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Shedd, William Greenough
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Sermons to the spiritual man^
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SERMONS
SPIRITUAL MAN.
BT
WILLIAM G. T. SHEDD, D.D.,
K003EVELT PROFESSOR OF SYSTEMATIC THEOLOGY IN UNION THEOLOGICAX
SEMINARY, NEW YORK.
NEW YORK :
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.
1884.
Copyright, 18S4, by
WILLIAM a. T. SHEDD.
TROWS
PniNTINQ AND BOOKBINOINQ COMPANY,
NEW YORK.
PREFATOEY NOTE.
This volume is complementary to another, published in
1871, under the title of " Sermons to the Natural Man." In
the earlier volume, the author aimed to address the human
conscience. In this, he would speak to the Christian heart.
The former supposed original and unpardoned sin, and en-
deavored to produce the consciousness of it. The latter
supposes forgiven and indwelling sin, and would aid in the
struggle and victory over it. The writer has had evidence,
both from this country and from abroad, that theological
sermonizing and the close application of truth are not so
unwelcome and unpopular, as they are sometimes represented
to be. This encourages him to hope that the present volume,
which takes a wider range, and brings to view the experi-
ences and aspirations of the regenerate believer, may find a
yet larger class of sympathetic readers. At the same time,
the author is well aware that both volumes are out of all
keeping with some existing tendencies in the religious world.
But these tendencies are destined to disappear, whenever
the blind guides shall cease to lead the blind, and honest
self-knowledge shall take the place of self-flattery and re-
ligious delusion. That this will happen, is as certain as that
the Holy Spirit has not forsaken the world for which God
incarnate died, but will, in His own way, again search and
illumine the human soul, as in " the times of refreshing from
the presence of the Lord."
Union THEOLooicAii Seminaky, Nkw York,
April 15, 1884.
..>-
CONTENTS.
SERMON I.
PAGE
Religious Meditation 1
SERMON II.
Christian Moderation 19
SERMON III.
The Supreme Excellence of God 34
SERMON IV.
The Fatherhood of God 50
SERMON V.
The Future Vision of God 69
SERMON VI.
God the Strength of Man 83
SERMON VII.
The Glorification of God 95
SERMON VIII.
The Duty of Reference to the Divine Will 116
SERMON IX.
The Creature has no Absolute Merit 129
iv CONTENTS.
SERMON X.
PAGE
Faith With, and Without Sight 153
SERMON XI.
The Reality of Heaven 167
SERMON XII.
Pure Motives the Light op the Soul 181
SERMON XIII.
The Law is Light 194
SERMON XIV.
The Law is the Strength of Sin 210
SERMON XV.
The Sense of Sin leads to Holiness, and the Conceit of
Holiness leads to Sin 225
SERMON XVI.
The Impression made by Christ's Holiness 241
SERMON XVII.
Christian Humility 256
SERMON XVIII.
Pride vitiates Religious Knowledge 272
SERMON XIX.
Connection between Faith and Works 286
SERMON XX.
The Christian Imperfect, yet a Saint 302
SERMON XXI.
Sanctification Completed at Death 315
CONTENTS. V
SEEMON XXII.
PAGE
Watchfulness and Prayerfulness 329
SERMON XXIII.
Unceasing Prayer 346
SERMON XXIV.
The Folly op Ambition 371
SERMON XXV.
Every Christian a Debtor to the Pagan 385
SERMON XXVI.
The Certain Success of Evangelistic Labor 400
SERMONS
SERMON I.
RELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
Psalm civ. 34. — " My meditation of Him shall be sweet.
There is no being with whom man stands in such close
and important relations as with the invisible God, and yet
there is no being with whom he finds it so difficult to
have communication. The earth he can see and touch.
His fellow-man he can look in the eye and speak to. But
" no man hath seen God at any time." Century after
century passes by, and the Highest utters no voice that is
audible to the outward ear. Thousands and millions of
human supplications are sent up to Him who dwells in the
heavens, but the heavens are not rent, no deity comes
down, and no visible sign is made. The skies are silent.
The impenetrable vail between man's body and God's
spirit is not withdrawn even for an instant.
As this continues to be the case generation after gener-
ation, and century after century, it is natural that those
who know of nothing but an external and visible commu-
nication between themselves and their Maker should be-
come sceptical concerning his actual existence. Like the
1
2 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
pagan idolater, they demand a God who can be seen and
handled. Like him, too, they hanker after prodigies and
wonders, and desire to be put into palpable communica-
tion with the Celestial Powers. " This generation seeketh
after a sign." It is not surprising, consequently, that the
natural man, finding no response to his passionate and
baffled attempts to penetrate the invisible and eternal by
the method of the five senses, falls into unbelief, and
concludes in his heart that a deity who never shows him-
self has no real being.
Thus the natural tendency of all men who hold no
prayerful and spiritual communication with their Maker
is to atheism, so long as they live in a world where he
makes no external displays of his person and his presence.
A time is indeed coming, when an outward vision of God
will break upon them so palpable and evident that they
will call upon the rocks and mountains to cover them from
it ; but until that time they are liable to a scepticism
which often renders it difficult, even when they make
some efforts to the contrary, to believe that there is a
God.
But the child of God — the believing, the spiritual, the
prayerful man — is delivered from this atheism. For he
knows of an intercourse with his Maker, which, though
unattended by signs and wonders, by palpability and tan-
gibility for the bodily senses, is as real and convincing as
anything outward or visible can be. He has experienced
the forgiveness of sin, and found the disquieting remorse
of his soul displaced by the peace of God in his conscience,
and the love of God in his heart. He has known the
doubts and fears of a sick bed to give way before God's
inward assurance of mercy and acceptance. He has been
in a horror of great mental darkness, and into that black
void of his soul God has suddenly made a precious prom-
RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 3
ise, or a comforting truth of his word, to shine out clear,
distinct, and glittering, like a star shooting up into a mid-
night sky. He has had love, and peace, and joy, and the
whole throng of devout and spiritual affections, flow in cur-
rents through his naturally hard and parched soul, at the
touch of a Spirit, at the breath of a Being, not of earth or
of time. And perhaps more convincing than all, he has
offered up prayers and supplications, with strong crying and
tears, for a strength that was not in himself but which he
must get or die, for a blessing that his hungry famine-
struck soul must obtain or be miserable, and has been
heard in that he feared. Thus the Christian's belief in the
Divine existence is a vital one. In a higher sense than
that of the poet, it is " felt in the blood, and felt along the
heart." It is part and particle of his consciousness, waning
only as his religious experience wanes, and dying only
when that deathless thing shall die.
Yet there are fluctuations in the Christian's faith and
sense of God. He needs to school and train himself in
this reference. God himself has appointed instrumentali'
ties by which to keep the knowledge of himself pure, clear,
and bright in the souls of his children, " until the day break
and the shadows flee away ; " and among them is the habit
of devout reflection upon his being and attributes.
The uses of religious meditation upon God, to which
we are urged by both the precept and the example of the
Psalmist, may be indicated in the three following propo-
sitions : 1. Meditation upon God is a lofty and elevating
act, because God is infinite in his being and perfections.
2. It is a sanctifying act, because God is holy in his nature
and attributes. 3, It is a blessed act of the mind, because
God is infinitely blessed, and communicates of his fulness
of joy to all who contemplate it.
I. In the first place, meditation upon God is a high and
4 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
elevating mental act, because of the immensity of the
Object. " Behold the heaven of heavens cannot contain
thee," said the awe-struck Solomon. " God is a most pure
spirit, immutable, immense," says the Creed. Reflection
upon that which is infinite tends of itself to enlarge and
ennoble. Meditation upon that which is immense produces
a lofty mood of mind. This is true even of merely material
immensity. He who often looks up into the firmament,
and views the great orbs that fill it, and the great move-
ments that take place in it, will come to possess a spirit
akin to this material grandeur — for the astronomical spirit
is a lofty one — while he who keeps his eyes upon the
ground, and looks at nothing but his little plot of earth,
and his own little life with its little motions, will be apt to
possess a spirit grovelling like the things he lives among,
and mean like the dirt he treads upon. Says the thought-
ful and moral Schiller : ' " The vision of unlimited dis-
tances and immeasurable heights, of the great ocean at his
feet and the still greater ocean above him, draws man's
spirit away from the narrow sphere of sense, and from the
oppressive stricture of physical existence. A grander rule
of measurement is held out to him in the simple majesty
of Nature, and environed by her great forms he can no
longer endure a little and narrow way of thinking. Who
knows how many a bright thought and heroic resolve,
which the student's chamber or the academic hall never
would have originated, has been started out by this lofty
struggle of the soul with the great spirit of Nature ; who
knows whether it is not in part to be ascribed to a less fre-
quent intercourse with the grandeur of the material world,
that the mind of man in cities more readily stoops to trifles,
and is crippled and weak, while the mind of the dweller
' Ueber das Erhabene.
EELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 5
beneath the broad sky remains open and free as the firma-
ment under which it lives." '
But if this is true of the immensity of Nature, much
more is it of the immensity of God. If the sight of the
heavens and the stars, of the earth and the vast seas, has a
natural tendency to elevate and ennoble the human intel-
lect, much more will the vision granted only to the pure in
heart — the vision of the infinite Being who made all these
things — exalt the soul above all the created universe. For
the immensity of God is the immensity of mind. The in-
finity of God is an infinity of truth, of purity, of justice,
of mercy, of love, and of glory. When the human intel-
lect perceives God, it beholds what the heaven of heavens
does not possess and cannot contain. His grandeur and
plenitude is far above that of material creation ; for he is
the source and the free power whence it all came. The
magnificence and beauty of the heavens and earth are the
work of his fingers ; and there is nothing which the bodily
sense can apprehend, by day or by night, however sublime
and glorious it may be, that is not infinitely inferior to the
excelling, transcending glory of God.
It is one of the many injuries which sin does to man,
that it degrades him. It excludes him from the uplifting
vision of the Creator, and causes him to expend his mental
force upon inferior objects — upon money, houses, lands,
titles, and " the bubble reputation." Sin imprisons man
within narrow limitations, and thus dwarfs him. And it
is one of the consequences of his regeneration that he is
enabled to soar again into the realm of the Infinite, and
' In a similar strain Cicero remarks: "Est animorum ingeniorumque
naturale quoddam quasi pabulum consideratio contemplatioque naturae :
erigimur ; elatiores fieri videmur ; humana despicimus ; cogitantesque
supera atque ccelestia, haec nostra, ut exigua et minima, contemnimus."
— AcademiccB QwestmieSf II., 41.
6 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
behold unlimited perfection, and thereby regain the dignity
he lost by apostasy. For it is a moral and spiritual differ-
ence that marks off the hierarchies of heaven from the
principalities of hell. Rational beings rise in grade and
glorious dignity by virtue of their character. But this
character is intimately connected with the clear, unclouded
contemplation of God. It is the beatific vision that ren-
ders the archangels so lofty. And it is only thi'ough a
spiritual beholding of God that man can reascend to the
point but little lower than the angels, and be crowned
again with glory and honor.
II. In the second place, meditation upon God is a sancti-
fying act, because God is holy and perfect in his nature
and attributes. The meditation of which the Psalmist
speaks in the text is not that of the schoolman, or the
poet, but of the devout, saintly, and adoring mind. That
meditation upon God which is " sweeter than honey and
the honey-comb" is not speculative, but practical. That
which is speculative and scholastic springs from curiosity.
That which is practical flows from love. This is the key
to this distinction, so frequently employed in reference to
the operations of the human mind. All merely speculative
thinking is inquisitive, acute, and wholly destitute of affec-
tion for the object. But all practical thinking is affection-
ate, sympathetic, and in harmony with the object. When
I meditate upon God because I love him, my reflection is
practical. When I think upon God because I desire to ex-
plore him, my thinking is speculative. None, therefore,
but the devout and affectionate mind truly meditates upon
God ; and all thought upon that Being which is put forth
merely to gratify the curiosity and pride of the human
understanding forms no part of the Christian habit and
practice which we are recommending. Man in every age
has endeavored " by searching to find out God." He has
RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 7
striven almost convulsively to fathom the abyss of the
Deity, and discover the deep things of the Creator. But
because it was from the love of knovrledge rather than
from the love of God, his efforts have been both unprofit-
able and futile. He has not sounded the abyss, neither
has his heart grown humble, and gentle, and tender, and
pure. His intellect has been baffled, and, what is yet
worse, his nature has not been renovated. Nay, more,
a weariness and a curse has come into his spirit, because he
has put the comprehension of an object in the place of the
object itself ; because, in his long struggle to understand
God, he has not had the first thought of loving and serving
him.
There is, indeed, for the created mind, no true knowl-
edge of the Creator but a practical and sanctifying knowl-
edge. God alone knows the speculative secrets of his own
being. The moral and holy perfections of the Godhead
are enough, and more than enough, for man to meditate
upon. " The secret things belong unto the Lord our God,"
said Moses to the children of Israel, " but those things
which are revealed belong unto us, and to our children
forever, that we may do all the words of his law."
True meditation, thus proceeding from filial love and
sympathy, brings the soul into intercourse and communion
with its object. Devout and holy reflection upon God in-
troduces man into the divine presence, in a true and solid
sense of these words. Such a soul shall know God as the
natural man does not, and cannot. " Judas saith unto him,
not Iscariot, Lord, how is it that thou wilt manifest thyself
unto us, and not unto the world? Jesus answered, and
said unto him, If a man love me, he will keep my words :
and my Father will love him, and we will come unto
him and make our ahode with him." In the hour of
spiritual and affectionate musing upon the character and
8 EELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
attributes of God — and especially upon their manifestation
in the Person and Work of Christ — there is a positive im-
pression upon the heart, directly from God. In what other
mode can we get near to the Invisible One, here upon
earth, than by some mental act or process ? In what other
way than by prayer and meditation can we approach God ?
We cannot see him with the outward eye. We cannot
touch him with the hand. We cannot draw nigh to him
with a body of flesh and blood. In no way, here below,
can we have intercourse with God, except " in spirit." He
is a pure Spirit, and that part of us which has to do with
him is the spirit within us. And in this mode of exist-
ence, the only ordinary medium of communication between
the divine and the human spirit is thought and prayer.
God, with all the immensity of his being, and all the in-
finitude of his perfections, is virtually non-existent for that
man who does not meditate and who never prays. For so
long as there is no medium of intercourse there is no inter-
course. The power of thought and of spiritual supplication
is all that God has given us in this life whereby we may ap-
proach him, and be impressed by his being and attributes.
Eye hath not seen him ; the ear cannot hear him. Nothing
but the invisible can behold the invisible. Here upon
earth, man must meet God in the depths of his soul, in the
privacy of his closet, or not at all.
The Christian life is so imperfect here below, that it is
unsafe to set it up as a measure of what is possible under
the covenant of grace. The possibilities and capacities
of the Christian religion are by no means to be estimated
by the stinted draughts made upon them by our unfaith-
fulness and unbelief. Were we as meditative and prayer-
ful as was Enoch, the seventh from Adam, we, like him,
should "walk with God." This was the secret of the
wonderful spirituality and unearthliness that led to his
RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 9
translation. Is there upon earth to-day any communion
between man and God superior to that between the patri-
archal mind and the Eternal ? Men tell us that the ancient
church was ignorant, and that it cannot be expected that
Seth and Enoch and David should be possessed of the vast
intelligence of the nineteenth century. But show me the
man among the millions of our restless and self -conceited
civilization who walks with God as Enoch did, and who
meditates upon that glorious Being all the day and in the
night watches as David did — show me a man of such
mental processes as these, and I will show you one whose
shoe latchets, even in intellectual respects, the wisest of
our savans is not worthy to stoop down and unloose. N^o
scientific knowledge equals, either in loftiness or in depth,
the immortal vision of the saint and seraphim. And were
we accustomed to such heavenly contemplation and musing,
the " fire would burn " in our hearts as it did in that of the
Psalmist, and our souls would "pant" after God. God
would be real to our feelings, instead of being a mere ab-
straction for our understandings. We should be conscious
of his presence with a distinctness equal to that with which
we feel the morning wind, and should see his glory as
clearly as we ever saw the sun at noonday. With as much
certainty as we know the sky to be overhead, and under-
neath the solid ground, should we be certain that " God is,
and is the rewarder of them that' diligently seek him."
There would be contact. " I want," said Kiebuhr, wearied
with seeking and not finding, " I want a God who is heart
to my heart, spirit to my spirit, life to my life." Such is
God to every soul that loves him, and meditates because it
loves.
True meditation, then, being practical, and thereby bring-
ing the subject of it into communion with the object of
it, is of necessity sanctifying. For the object is Infinite
10 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
Holiness and Purity. It is he in whom is centred and
gathered and crowded all possible perfections. And can
our minds muse upon such a Being and not become purer
and better ? Can we actually and affectionately commune
with the most perfect and high God in the heavens and
not become sanctified ? The spirit of a man takes its
character from the themes of its meditation. He who
thinks much upon wealth becomes avaricious ; he whose
thoughts are upon earthly glory becomes ambitious ; and
he whose thoughts are upon God becomes godlike.
Ill, In the third place, meditation upon God is a hlessed
act of the mind, because God himself is an infinitely blessed
being, and communicates of his fulness of joy to all who
contemplate it. Mere thinking, in and of itself, is not
sufficient to secure happiness. Everything depends upon
the quality of the thought, and this again upon the
nature of the object upon which it is expended. There
are various kinds and degrees of mental enjoyment, each
produced by a particular species of mental reflection ; but
there is no thinking that gives rest and satisfaction and
joy to the soul, but thinking upon the glorious and blessed
God. All other thought ultimately baffles and tires us.
Heaven comes into the human mind not through poetry,
or philosophy, or science, or art — not through any secular
knowledge — but through religion. "When a man thinks of
his wealth, his houses, his friends, or his country, though
he derives a sort of pleasure from so doing, yet it is not of
such a grave and solid species as to justify its being de-
nominated " bliss." No thought that is expended upon the
creature, or upon any of the creaturely relations, can
possibly produce that " sober certainty of waking bliss "
which constitutes heaven. If it can, why is not man a
blessed spirit here on earth ? If it can, why is it that man
in all his movements and strivings never reaches a final
RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 11
centre, at which he is willing to say to his soul : " This is
enough ; this is all ; here stand and remain forever ? "
Man is constantly thinking upon the things of earth, and
if they have the power to awaken calm and contented
thought, and to induce a permanent and perfect joy, why
is he so restless and unhappy ? And why does he become
the more wearied and soured, the more intensely he thinks
and toils ?
But there is higher and nobler thought than that of
trade and politics. Man can meditate upon purely in-
tellectual themes. He can expend intense reflection upon
the mysteries and problems of his own mind, and of the
Eternal Mind. He can put forth an earnest and graceful
effort of his powers within the province of beautiful letters
and fine art. But does even such an intellectual, and, so
far as it goes, such an elevating meditation as this produce
and preserve genuine tranquillity and enjoyment ? Are
poet and philosopher synonymous with saint and angel ?
Is the learned man necessarily a happy one ? Look
through the history of literary men, and see their anxious
but baffled research, their eager but fruitless inquiry, their
acute but empty speculation, their intense but vain study,
and you will know that the wise man spake true when he
said, "He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow."
Hear the sigh of the meditative Wordsworth :
"Me this unchartered freedom tires ;
I feel the weight of chance desires ;
My hopes no more must change their name,
I long for a repose that ever is the same."
No, all thought which does not ultimately come home
to God in practical, filial, and sympathetic communion, is
incapable of rendering the soul blest. The intellect may
find a kind of pleasure in satisfying its inquisitive and
12 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
proud desire " to be as gods, knowing good and evil," but
the heart experiences no peace or rest, until by a devout
and religious meditation it enters into the fulness of God
and shares in his eternal joy.
And here again, as in the former instance, our personal
experience is so limited and meagre that the language of
Scripture, and of some saints on earth, seems exaggerated
and rhetorical. Says the sober and sincere apostle Paul
— a man too much in earnest, and too well acquainted
with the subject, to overdraw and overpaint — " Eye hath
not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the
heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for
them that love him." There is a strange unearthly joy,
when a pure and spiritual mind is granted a clear view of
the divine perfections. It rejoices with a joy imspeakable
and full of glorying. All finite beauty, all created glory,
is but a shadow in comparison. The holy mind rapt in
contemplation says with Augustine : " When I love God,
I do not love the beauty of material bodies, nor the fair
harmony of time, nor the brightness of the light so glad-
some to our eyes, nor sweet melodies of varied songs, nor
the fragrant smell of flowers and perfumes and spices ;
not manna nor honey. None of these do I love, when I
love my God. And yet I love a kind of melody, a kind of
fragrance, and a kind of food, when I love my God — the,
light, the melody, the fragrance, and the food of the inner
man : when there shineth into my soul what space cannot
contain, and there soundeth what time beareth not away,
and there smelleth what breathing disperseth not, and there
tasteth what eating diminisheth not. This is it which I
love, when I love my God." '
We find it diflScult, with our sluggish and earthly tem-
' Confessions, X., 6.
RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 13
per, to believe all this, and to sympathize with it. Yet it
is simple naked truth and fact. There is a heaven,
whether we reach it or not. There is a beatific vision of
God, whether it ever dilate and enrapture our eyes or not.
God is infinite blessedness and glory, and no good being
can behold him without partaking of it. As he gazes, he
is changed into the same image from glory to glory. The
more clear and full his vision, the more overwhelming and
boundless is the influx of heaven into him. We may know
something of this here on earth. The more we meditate
upon God and divine things, the happier shall we become
in our own minds. There are at this moment, upon this
cursed and thistle-bearing earth, some meek and gentle
spirits whose life of prayer and holy communion streaks
the heavens with bars of amber, and apparels everything
in heavenly light. And the more this divine pleasure
enters the soul, the more will it hunger and thirst after it.
For this is the summum, honum / this is the absolute de-
light. This never satiates. This never wearies. This
joy in the vision of God has the power to freshen and in-
vigorate while it runs through the fibres of the heart ; and
therefore, even amidst the most ecstatic and satisfying
visions of heaven, the blessed still cry : " My soul pants
after thee, O God, as the hart pants after the water-
brook; my heart and my flesh cries out for the living
God."
Never will our minds reach a state in which they will
really be at rest, and never will they put forth an activity
which they will be willing to have eternal, until they ac-
quire the mental habits of the holy angels. In the saints'
everlasting rest, there is an unintermittent contemplation
and sight of God. Who of us is ready for it ? Who of us
is certain that he will not turn away, when he finds that
this, and this alone, is the heaven of which he has heard
14 EELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
SO much. Who of us has such a holy frame and such a
spiritual sympathy with God, that every deeper descent
into that abyss of holiness and purity will reveal new sights
of joy, and start out new feelings of wonder and love?
Who of us can be happy in heaven ? For this open vision
of God, this sight of him face to face, this beatific contem-
plation of his perfections, is the substance of paradise, the
jasper foundation of the city of God.
We have thus seen that religious meditation upon God
and divine things elevates, sanctifies, and blesses. But
though this Christian habit produces such great and good
fruits, there is probably no duty that is more neglected.
We find it easier to read our Bible, than to ponder upon it ;
easier to listen to preaching, than to inwardly digest it ;
easier to respond to the calls of benevolence and engage in
external service in the church, than to go into our closets.
And is not this the secret of the faint and sickly life in our
souls ? Is not this the reason why we live at a poor dying
rate ? Think you that if we often entered into the
presence of God and obtained a realizing view of things
unseen and eternal, earthly temptation would have such a
strong power over us as it does ? Think you that if we
received every day a distinct and bold impression from the
attributes of God, we should be so distant from him in
our hearts ? Can we not trace our neglect of duty, our
lukewarm feelings, and our great worldliness of heart, to
our lack of the vision of God ?
The success of a Christian mainly depends upon a uni-
form and habitual communion witli his God and Re-
deemer. No spasmodic resolutions into which he may be
exasperated by the goadings of conscience can be a sub-
stitute for it. If holy communion and prayer are inter-
rupted, he will surely fall into sin. In this world of
continual temptation and of lethargic consciences, we need
RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 16
to be awakened and awed by the serene splendor of God's
holy countenance. But we cannot behold that amidst the
vapors and smoke of every-day life. We must go into
our closets and " shut the door, and pray to our Father
who seeth in secret." Then shall we know how power to
resist temptation comes from fellowship with God. Then
shall we know what a sabbath that soul enjoys, which,
with open eye, looks long and steadily at the Divine
perfections. With what a triumphant energy, like that of
the archangel trampling on the dragon, does Moses come
down from the Mount into the life of conflict and trial.
With what a vehement spiritual force does a holy mind
resist evil, after it has just seen the contrast between evil
and God. Will the eagle that has soared above the
earth in the free air of the open firmament of heaven, and
has gazed into the sun with an undazzled eye, endure to
sink and dwell in the dark cavern of the owl and the bat ?
Then will the spirit which has seen the glorious light of
the divine countenance endure to descend and grovel in
the darkness and shame of sin.
It should, therefore, be a diligent and habitual practice
with us, to meditate upon God and divine things. Time
should be carefully set apart and faithfully used for this
sole purpose. It is startling to consider how much of our
life passes without any thought of God ; without any dis-
tinct and filial recognition of his presence and his char-
acter. And yet how much of it might be spent in sweet
and profitable meditation. The avocations of our daily
life do not require the whole of our mental energy and re-
flection. If there were a disposition ; if the current of
feeling and affection set in that direction; how often
could the farmer commune with God in the midst of his
toil, or the merchant in the very din and press of his busi-
ness. How often could the artisan send his thoughts and his
16 RELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
ejaculations upward, and the work of his hands be none
the worse for it. " What hinders," says Augustine,' " what
hinders a servant of God while working with his hands,
from meditating in the law of the Lord, and singing unto
the name of the Lord most high ? As for divine songs, he
can easily say them even while working with his hands,
and like as rowers with a boat-song, so with godly melody
cheer up his very toil." But the disposition is greatly
lacking. If there were an all-absorbing affection for God
in our hearts, and it were deep joy to see him, would not
this " sweet meditation " of the Psalmist be the pleasure
of life, and all other thinking the duty — a duty per-
formed from the necessity that attaches to this imperfect
mode of existence, rather than from any keen relish for
it ? If the vision of God were glorious and ravishing to
our minds, should we not find them often indulging
themselves in the sight, and would not a return to the
things of earth be reluctant ? Would not thought upon
God steal through and suffuse all our other thinking, as
sunset does the evening sky, giving a pure and saintly hue
to all our feelings, and pervading our entire experience ?
So it works in other provinces. The poet Burns was so
deeply absorbed in the visions, aspirations, and emotions
of poetry, that the avocations of the farmer engrossed
but little of his mind, and it has been said of him,
that " though his hand was on the plough his heart
was with the muse." Were the Christian as much ab-
sorbed in the visions, aspirations, and emotions of re-
ligion, it would be said of him, too : " His hand is on
the plough, but his heart is with his God ; his head is in
his worldly business, but his heart is with his God."
Finally, let us be urged up to the practice of this duty
' De Opere Monacliorum, XVIL
RELIGIOUS MEDITATION. 17
by a consideration which has most force, it is true, for un-
renewed men who know nothing of the Christian expe-
rience, but which still has much strength for us if we
consider our remaining sin and the slender amount of our
intercourse with God. We still find it too difficult to
delight in God. It is still not so easy and pleasant as it
ought to be to walk with God. Notwithstanding our
vocation and our expectation, it is still too difficult for us
to be happy in heaven. It is in this reference that the
subject we have been considering speaks with great
emphasis. Let us remember that a foundation for heaven
in our own minds is requisite in order to the enjoyment
of the heaven that is on high.' That rational being who
does not practise the meditations and enjoy the experiences
of heaven, will not be at home there, and, therefore, will
not go there. Every being goes to " his own place." Is
it supposable that a soul that never here on earth con-
templated the Divine character with pleasure, will see
that character in eternity, in peace, and joy ? Is it sup-
posable that a human spirit tilled with self-seeking and
worldliness, and wholly destitute of devout and adoring
meditations, will be taken among seraphim and cherubim
when taken out of time ? Is that world of holy con-
templation the proper place for a carnal mind filled through
and through with only earthly and selfish thoughts ? Can
the sensual Dives be happy in the bosom of Abraham ?
God is not mocked, neither can a man cheat and impose
upon his own soul when in eternity. Every one will then
be brought to his individuality. He will know then, if not
' " A human being, " says Channing, ' ' who has lived without God, and
without self-improvement, can no more enjoy heaven than a moulder-
ing body lifted from the tomb and placed amidst beautiful prospects,
can enjoy the light through its decayed eyes, or feel the balmy air
which blows away its dust." — Sermon on Immortality.
18 EELIGIOUS MEDITATION.
before, what he does really love and what he does really
loathe. And if in that other world there be only a pre-"
tended and hollow affection for God, with what a sigli
and long-drawn moan will the wretched being fling down
the harp with which he vainly tries to sing the heavenly
song. For whatsoever a man thinks of with most relish
here in time, he shall think of with most relish in eternity.
He who loves to think of wealth, and fame, and sensual
pleasure, and loathes to think of God, and Christ, and
heavenly objects, shall think of wealth, and fame, and
sensual pleasure in eternity, where all such thinking is
" the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not
quenched," But he who, in any degree, loves to think of
God and Christ, and abhors to think of sin in all its forms,
shall think of God and Christ in eternity — where all such
thought is music, and peace, and rest.
The destination of every man in another world may be
inferred and known from the general tenor of his thoughts
in this. He who does not love to think upon a particular
class of subjects here will not love to think upon them
there. The mere passage from time to eternity can no
more alter a man's likes or dislilies in this respect than the
passage of the Atlantic can alter them. And that rational
spirit, be it human, angelic, or arch-angelic, which iu
eternity cannot take positive delight in contemplating God,
but recoils from all such contemplation, is miserable and
lost, though it tread the golden streets and hear the rip-
pling murmurs of the river of the water of life. But if
our meditation upon God is sweet here, it will be sweeter
in eternity. And then our blessedness will be certain and
secure ; for no spirit, human, angelic, or arch-angelic, can
by any possibility be made unblest in any part of God's
vast dominions, if it really finds joy in the contemplation
of the ever-present God.
SEEMON n.
CHRISTIAN MODERATION.
Pkoverbs xvi. 32. — "He that is slow to anger is better than
the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."
The book of Proverbs is the best of all manuals for the
formation of a well-balanced mind. The object of Solo-
mon in composing it seems to have been to furnish to the
church a summary of rules and maxims by which the
Christian character, having been originated by regeneration,
should then be educated and made symmetrical. We do
not, therefore, go to this portion of Scripture so much for
full and definite statements of the distinguishing doctrines
of revealed religion, as for those wise and prudential
canons whereby we may reform extravagance, prune
down luxuriance, and combine the whole variety of traits
and qualities into a harmonious and beautiful unity. "We
do not find in this part of the Bible careful and minute
specifications of the doctrine of the trinity, of the apos-
tasy of mankind, of the incarnation of the Son of God,
of vicarious atonement, regeneration and justification.
They are hinted at, it is true — as when the Eternal Wisdom
is spoken of as being with the Lord " in the beginning of his
way, before his works of old ; as one brouglit up with him,
daily his delight, and rejoicing always before him." (Prov.
viii. 22, 30.) Here we have the same doctrine, germin-
ally, with that of the Apostle John, when he affirms that
20 CHRISTIAN MODERATION.
the Eternal Word, or Keason, " in the beginning was with
God, and was God." And what are such assertions, as
that " there is not a just man upon earth that doeth good
and sinneth not " (Eccl. vii. 20), and such questions as,
" Who can saj, I have made my heart clean, 1 am pure
from my sin " ? (Prov. xx. 9), but an indirect statement
of the doctrine of human depravity ? Still it is not the
main purpose of Solomon, in those two books of the
inspired canon which go under the name of Proverbs and
Ecclesiastes, to particularly enunciate the evangelical sys-
tem ; but rather to set forth those principles of ethics, and
religious prudence, which must always follow in the train
of evangelical religion. It is reserved for other portions of
the Bible — for the Gospels and the Epistles — to make the
-fundamental statements, and lay the foundations of Chris-
tian character ; while it remains for the wise Preacher to
follow up with those teachings which serve to develop and
beautify it. The book of revelation is, in this way, like
the book of nature. The scientific naturalist does not
claim that everything in nature is upon a dead level in re-
spect to intrinsic worth and importance — that a bit of
charcoal is just as valuable as a bit of diamond ; that a lily
is just as high up the scale of creation as a man. But he
does claim that one is as much the work of creative power
as the other, and in its own sphere and place is as indis-
pensable to the great sum total of creation as is the other.
And so, too, the scientific theologian does not claim that
everything in the Bible is upon a dead level in respect to
intrinsic value — that the book of Esther is as important
for purposes of regeneration and conversion as is the Epistle
to the Romans — but he does claim that both alike are the
product of Divine inspiration ; that both alike are a por-
tion of that Word of God, that sum-total of revealed truth
upon which, as a whole, the kingdom of God in the earth
CHRISTIAlSr MODERATION. 21
is to be founded and built up. Had the book of Esther
been lost out of the canon, it would not have been so great
a detriment to the church as the loss of the Gospel of
John, or of the Epistle to the Romans. If the missionary
were allowed to carry only a single fragment of Scripture
into a heathen population, and were compelled to make
his choice between the book of Proverbs or the Gospel of
St. Matthew, he would undoubtedly select the latter.
Isot, however, because one is less trustworthy than the
other; but because one contains more of the doctrinal
material which the missionary employs in laying the
foundation of the church ; because it gives more informa-
tion concerning the Lord Jesus Christ and the way of sal-
vation than does the other. The book of Proverbs, as we
have remarked, was composed not so much for the pur-
pose of originating a holy character, as of shaping and
polishing it ; and for this purpose it is indispensable, and
for this purpose it was inspired. And hence in mission-
ary fields, as well as in the church at large, the wise max-
ims and well-grounded ethics of Solomon will always
follow up the evangelical truths and doctrines of the
Apostle John, and the Apostle Paul.
" He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty ;
and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city."
In this concise sententious " proverb," the wise man des-
cribes and recommends a certain kind of temper which
should be possessed and cherished by the people of God.
We purpose, in the first place, briefly to describe this tem-
per ; in the second place, to mention some of the obstacles
that oppose its formation ; and in the third place, to point
out the true source and root of it.
The temper that is recommended in the text, to say it
in a word, is Christian moderation. St. Paul urges
the same thing with Solomon, when he writes to the
22 CHRISTIAN MODERATION.
Pliilippians : "Let your moderation be known unto all
men ; " when he writes to the Thessalonians : " Let us
watch and be sober ; " and when he writes to Titus, that
"the grace of God which bringeth salvation hath appeared
to all men, teaching us that denying ungodliness and
worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly
in this present world."
I. Li defining, in the first place, the nature of this tem-
per and disposition, it is evident that a man who is " slow
to anger," and who "ruleth his spirit," is characterized by
sobriety and equanimity. He is never driven to extremes,
in any direction. For anger is one of the most vehement
of emotions, and he who can control it can control any-
thing, can " take a city." Hence this particular passion
is selected as the specimen. He who reins in his own
impulsive wrath with such a strong and firm rein that it
never gets the mastery over him, will find it no difficult
task to rule and regulate the whole brood of passions
which have their nest in corrupt human nature. Such a
man is even-tempered, in the deepest sense. Such a man
stands in just and proper relations to both worlds. He lives
with contentment here upon earth, and at the same time
lays up treasure in heaven. He does not drown himself
in worldly lusts, like a voluptuary, and neither does he kill
out all human sympathies, like an ascetic. He uses this
world as not abusing it in either direction. He does not
abuse the good things of this life, by an immoderate in-
dulgence in them, or an immoderate desire and toil after
them ; and he does not abuse the legitimate enjoyments
of this existence, by a fanatical contempt and rejection of
them altogether. He is not so absorbed in the things of
time and sense, as to lose sight of eternal realities ; neither
is he so monkishly indifferent to the interests and objects
of this life, as to be either a drone or a malcontent. He
CHRISTIAN MODERATION. 23
responds to all the reasonable and proper demands of
domestic, social, and civil existence, while yet he never
becomes so extreme in his attachment, and so enslaved to
them, that it costs him murmurings and bitter pangs to be
called away from these circles into the immediate presence
of God.
This is indeed a wonderful temper to be attained by so
ill-governed, so passionate, impulsive, and unbalanced a
creature as man. It is no wonder that such a well-poised
and symmetrical character as this floated as an unattain-
able ideal before the minds of the better pagan philoso-
phers. This is the famous "temperance" which meets
the scholar so continually in the writings of Plato and
Aristotle — that golden mean between the extremes of
passion and apathy which the philosopher strives to reach.
" Quietly reflecting " — says Plato — " on the madness and
ungovernable passions of the multitude, and attending to
his own affairs, like a man sheltered under a wall in a storm
of dust and foam borne along on the wind, by which he
sees all about him overwhelmed in disorder, such an one is
content to pass his life free from violence and passion, and
to effect his exit hence with good hopes, cheerful and
serene." ' This is his description of the moderation, the
equanimity, the temperance of the philosophic mind. But
in other places this thoughtful pagan confesses that this
golden mean is never reached here upon earth, either by
the philosopher or the common man. He compares the
soul to a pair of horses — one of them erect, finely formed,
with high neck, aquiline nose, white-colored, black-eyed,
a lover of honor and temperance and true glory, driven
without the whip, by word of command and voice only ;
the other crooked, thick set, clumsily put together, with
' Republic, VI., 495.
24 CHRISTIAN MODERATION.
strong neck, short throat, flat face, black color, gray-eyed,
addicted to insolence and swaggering, scarcely obedient to
whip and spur together.' These two opposing creatures,
according to him, represent the present condition of the
human soul. There are aspirations that would lead it up-
ward, but there are appetites that drag it downward. The
white horse would pursue the path of honor and excellence ;
but the black horse draws away from the path, and plunges
madly downward. And the black horse is the strongest.
The appetite is too mighty for the resolution. There is
an infinite aspiration, and an infinitesimal performance.
Such is the mournful confession of the greatest thinker
outside of the pale of revelation ; and if a Plato could dis-
cover and teach to future generations the corruption and
helplessness of human nature, what shall we say of those
teachers under the full light of revelation, who would
have us believe that there is no corruption in man but
such as can be eradicated by man himself, and who would
dispense with the evangelical means and methods of heal-
ing and salvation.
II. And this brings us to consider, in the second place,
some of the obstacles that oppose the formation of such
a Christian sobriety and moderation. They spring from
two general sources — the sense, and the mind. They are
partly physical, and partly intellectual obstacles.
1. In the first place, this Christian sobriety and modera-
tion is opposed by the appetites and passions of the hody. St.
Paul, speaking of man before regeneration, says, " When
we were in the flesh, the motions [passions] of sins which
were by the law did work in our members, to bring forth
fruit unto death." It is one of the effects of apostasy, that
human nature is corrupted upon the physical side of it, as
» Phffidrus, XXV., 3.
CHRISTIAN MODERATION". 25
well as upon the mental and moral side. " Original sin,"
as the Westminster creed aflSrms, " is the corruption of the
tohole nature." The bodily appetites are verj different
now from what they would have been, had man remained
in his original and holy condition. When Adam came from
the hand of the Creator, his physical nature was pure and
perfect. All of his appetites and sensibilities were in just
proportion, and were exactly balanced and harmonized.
The original and holy Adam was no glutton, and no voluptu-
ary. Every appetite of the body was even-tempered, never
reaching beyond the just limits, and going as far, and only
as far, as the healthy and happy condition of the organism
required. Probably the brute creation approaches nearer
to the original Adam, in this particular of a sound
physical organization, than do his degenerate posterity.
How comparatively moderate all the physical appetites
are, in the low sphere of the dumb animals.' The ox and
the horse, for example, having satisfied the healthy and
natural cravings of hunger, demand nothing further.
They never gorge themselves to a surfeit, and they seek
no stimulants. The range of their appetite is narrow. A
few grasses, with the pure flowing water to drink, meet all
their wants. But man's physical appetites are multitu-
dinous, and, what is yet worse, they are exorbitant. They
are continually reaching out beyond the proper limits, and
beyond what the organism requires, and bring his higher
intellectual and moral nature into subjection to themselves.
The history of human civilization is to a great extent the
history of human luxury ; and the history of human lux-
ury is the history of bodily appetites growing more and
more inordinate, and growing by what they feed upon.
The very civilization of which we hear so much, and
' Compare Plutarch : On Natural Affection toward one's Oflfspring.
26 CHRISTIAN MODERATION.
which is so often represented as the unmixed glory of the
human race, the evidence and record of its advance to-
ward perfection, is in one of its aspects the record of its
shame, and the evidence of its apostasy. For it brings to
view the corruption of human nature upon the physical
side. It reveals acquired and unnatural appetites, fed and
satiated by ingenious supplies. The whole industry and
energy of entire classes of laborers and artisans is employed
in ministering to extreme cravings, and unhealthy wants,
that could have no existence if human nature were pos-
sessed of that physical sobriety and moderation which the
Bible enjoins, or even of that temperance which the Greek
philosopher praised and recommended.
That which is true of man generally, is true of the in-
dividual. There are great obstacles to that well-regu-
lated temper which Solomon recommends in the text, aris-
ing from flesh and sense. There is no need of entering into
any detail, for every man's own consciousness will testify
that every day, and every hour, " the body of this death,"
this "vile body," as St. Paul denominates it, stands in
opposition to that calm and equable frame of soul which is
" slow to anger." The corruption of nature is constantly
showing itself in a rush to an extreme. The natural ap-
petites, which were implanted in order to preserve the
body from weakness and decay, and which in their original
and pure condition were aids to virtue and holy living —
these very appetences, now extreme and disordered, are
strong temptations to sin, and the very worst obstacles to
holiness. " How is the gold become dim ! How is the most
fine gold changed ! " All that part of our being which
connects us with this glorious outer world, and which was
originally intended to subserve our spiritual interests, and
to assist in preparing us for a final blessed destination,
has by apostasy become subservient to our destruction.
CHRISTIAN MODERATION. 27
The physical appetites which in their pure state, as seen
in holy Adam and in the sinless humanity of our Blessed
Lord, contributed directly to a well-regulated and well-
governed frame of the soul, now tend directly to throw
it off its equilibrium, and to fill it with restlessness and
dissatisfaction — to make it a troubled sea whose waters
cast up mire and dirt.
2. But again, in the second place, this Christian sobriety
and moderation meets with an obstacle in man's disordered
mental nature. The prophet Isaiah, in describing human
sinfulness, remarks that the " whole head is sick." The
apostasy of Adam has affected the nobler and liigher part
of man, as well as his lower and meaner part. The dis-
order that now prevails in his intellectual and moral
nature opposes his most earnest endeavors to be "slow to
anger," and to " rule his spirit." Consider, for instance,
how lawless and ungoverned is the human imagination.
This is a faculty of a high order, and by it man is capable
of " thoughts that wander through eternity." But as it
now exists in fallen man, it is the source of the most way-
ward and perverse mental action. It fills the soul with
extravagant conceits, greedy desires, unreal joys, and un-
real sorrows. The believer is commanded by the Apostle
Paul, to " cast down imaginations, and every high thing
that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, and to
bring every thought into captivity to the obedience
of Christ." But he finds it one of his most difiicult tasks,
because the disorder and the lawlessness are so very far
within him. It is in some respects easier to control the
physical appetites than to rule an inflamed and extrava-
gant fancy. That youth, for example, who has stimulated
his imagination by the immoderate and long-continued
reading of fiction, has a harder task before him, in some
particulars, than the drunkard or the debauchee. He has
28 CHRISTIAN MODERATIOIT.
introduced extravagance and lawlessness into a faculty
■which in its best condition is liable to waywardness, and
he discovers, when he attempts to undo his own work, that
he has a life-long labor before him. How many there are, in
tliis age of voracious and indiscriminate novel-reading, who
will tell us that they have ruined their intellects by their
folly; that they have lost the power of sober, concatenated
thinking ; that they are carried along passively by the cur-
rents of fanciful imaginings that surge and dash within
them ; that they have no rule of tlieir own minds, and when-
ever the temptation presents they are swift to wrath, and
every other impulsive passion.
Again, the human understanding itself — that compara-
tively cool and nnimpassioned part of the human soul —
opposes obstacles to Christian sobriety and moderation. A
man's purely intellectual conclusions and convictions may
be so one-sided and extreme as to spoil liis temper. Fa-
naticism in every age furnishes examples of this. The
fanatic is generally an intellectual person. He is vehement
and extreme, not for the sake of a vice or a pleasure, but
for the sake of an opinion or a doctrine. His ungoverned
temper does not commonly spring out of sensual appetites
and indulgences. On the contrary, his blood is usually
cold and thin, and his life abstemious and ascetical. But
his passion runs to his brain. He holds an intellectual
opinion or an intellectual conviction that is but a half-
truth, with a spasmodic energy ; and the consequence is,
that he is swift to anger, and reckless of consequences in
that direction. No large and comprehensive vision, and
no moderate and well-balanced temper, is possible when
passion has in this manner woiked its way into the under-
standing. Every age of the world affords examples of this
kind. How many individual Christians, and how many
individual churches, have lost their Christian sobriety and
CHEISTIAN MODERATIOIT. 29
their charitable moderation, because they have "leaned
to their own understanding," and as a consequence their
understanding acquired a leaning and lost its equipoise.
From these sources, then, we find obstacles issuing that
oppose the formation of that temper which the Apostle
Paul has in view when he says : " Let your moderation be
known to all men," and which Solomon recommends when
he says : " He that is slow to anger is better than the
mighty, and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a
city." Our corrupt physical nature, and our disordered men-
tal constitution, are continually drawing us aside from that
true golden mean between all extremes which should ever
be before the eye of a Christian, and which he must attain
in order to enter the world where everything is symmetrical
and harmonious, like the character of God himself.
III. We are, therefore, led to inquire, in the third place,
for the true source of this Christian temperance and mod-
eration. Such a spirit as we have been speaking of must
have its root in love. The secret of such an even temper
is charity ; the " charity that suffereth long and is kind,
that vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, seeketh not her
own, thinketh no evil." No man can have this large-
minded, comprehensive, and unshaken equilibrium, who
does not love God supremely and his neighbor as himself.
We have already noticed that the wise pagan thinkers
had an idea of some such well-balanced temper and spirit.
They were painfully conscious of the passionateness of the
human soul, and its inclination to rush into extremes — ex-
tremes of physical license, and extremes of intellectual
license. But they knew no method of curing the evil, and
they never cured it. And there was a good reason. They
could not generate holy love in their own hearts, or in the
hearts of others. The human heart is carnal, and thereby
at enmity with God ; it is selfish, and thereby at enmity
30 CHRISTIAN MODERATION.
"with man. So long as this is the character of man, it is
impossible for him to be "slow to anger" and to "rule his
spirit." The physical appetite will be constantly break-
ing over its proper limits, the imagination will be lawless,
and the understanding proud and opinionated. But the
instant the enmity ceases and the charity begins, the sel-
fish passionateness and license disappear. You cannot
rule your impulsive spirit, you cannot curb and control
your lawless appetites, by a mere volition. You cannot
bring all your mental and physical powers into equilibrium
by a dead lift. The means is not adequate to the end.
Kothing but the power of a new affection ; nothing but
the love of God shed abroad in your heart, and the love
of Christ sweetly swaying and constraining you, can per-
manently and perfectly reduce all the restlessness and
recklessness of your nature to order and harmony. And
this can do it. There is something strangely powerful
and transforming in love. It is not limited in its influence
to any one part of the soul, but it penetrates and pervades
the whole of it, as quicksilver penetrates the pores of gold.
A conception is confined to the understanding ; a volition
stops with the will ; but an affection like heavenly charity
diffuses itself through the entire man. Head and heart,
reason, will, and imagination, are all modified by it. The
revolutionizing effect of this feeling within the sphere of
human relations is well understood. When the romantic
passion is awakened, it expels for the time being all others,
and this period of human life takes its entire tone and
color from the affection. Even the clown becomes gentle
and chivalrous under its influence.' But this is vastly
more true of the spiritual and heavenly love. When this
springs up in the soul, all the thoughts, all the purposes, all
' See Dryden's Cymon and Iphigenia.
CHEISTIAN MODERATION. 31
the passions, and all the faculties of the soul are changed
by it. And particularly is its influence seen in rectifying
the disorder and lawlessness of the soul. Pleavenly charity
cannot be resisted. Pride melts away under its warm
breath ; selfishness disappears under its glowing influence ;
anger cannot stand before its gentle force. Whatever be
the form of sin that offers resistance, it inevitably yields
before " love unfeigned ; love out of a pure heart." " Char-
ity never faileth," says the Apostle Paul. " Love con-
quers all things," says the pagan Ovid.
Our subject, then, teaches the necessity of the new hirth.
It corroborates our Lord's declaration : " Except a man
be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."
For, how is this heavenly affection, which is to subdue and
quell all the passion and wrath of human nature, to be
generated ? It is " not born of blood, or of the will of the
flesh, or of the will of man, but of God." There may be
outward self-control, without any inward self-government.
It is not enough that we do riot exhibit our anger and
our passion. It must be eradicated. It is not enough
that we rein in a restive spirit. The very spirit itself
must become mild and gentle. It is a weary, and in the
end a profitless, effort which that man puts forth, who
attempts to obey such an injunction as that of Solomon
in the text, without laying his foundation deep in a
renovated nature. In the opening of the discourse,
we alluded to the fact that the ethics of Solomon must
follow after the evangelical doctrines of the Gospels
and the Epistles. In like manner, the cultivation of a
symmetrical and beautiful moderation of both the bodily
appetites and the mental passions, in order to be successful,
nmst be preceded by a change of heart. Otherwise there
is nothing but the austere and ungenial attempt of a
moralist to perform a repulsive task. Love — holy and
32 CHEISTIAN MODERATION.
heavenly charity — must be generated, and then under its
spontaneous and happy impulse it will be comparatively
easy to rectify the lemaining corruption, and repress the
lingering excesses and extremes of appetite and passion.
When the Apostle John had become so far advanced in
years, that he could no longer exhibit the fire and force of
that earlier period when he was one of the sons of thunder,
he caused himself to be carried into the assemblies of the
Christians, and in weak and faltering accents said : " Chil-
dren, love one another ; children, love one another." This
tradition of the Early Church accords well with the tone
and teachings of those three Epistles which were among
the last utterances of the last of the apostles. Heavenly
charity, after a life prolonged nearly one hundred years,
had become the dominant affection of the soul. And
how almost impossible it would have been to have ruffled
that heavenly temper ! How easy it was for him to rule
his spirit ! How slow to anger must he have become !
In the days of his early discipleship, St, John was swift
to wrath, and upon one occasion sought to persuade the
serene and compassionate Redeemer to command the
lightnings to come down from the sky, and consume
the Samaritan village that would not receive him. But
in the last days of his apostleship and his pilgrimage, he
had breathed in the kind and compassionate spirit of his
Master, and his utterance was a very different one.
That which St. John needed is needed by human
nature always and everywhere. We are not better than
he. There are in every man the same inordinate pas-
sions, and the same need of a radical transformation. He
became a changed creature, the lion was converted into the
lamb, through faith in Jesus Christ — by an act of trust and
confidence in the Divine Redeemer. His own words are :
" Whosoever believeth that Jesus is the Christ — is lorn of
CHKISTIAN MODERATION. 33
God: and whatsoever is born of God overcometh the
world, and this is the victory that overcometh the world,
even our faith. We know that whosoever is born of God
sinneth not ; but he that is begotten of God keepeth him-
self, and that wicked one toucheth him not. And we
know that the Son of God is come, and hath given us an
understanding, that we may know him that is true ; and
we are in him that is true, even in his son Jesus Christ.
This is the true God and eternal life." Here is positive
affirmation and asseveration. "AVe hnowP It is the
utterance of a personal experience, and an infallible in-
spiration.
Confide then in the Son of God. Put your eternal des-
tiny into His hands. Do not look down into the dark
deep well of your own helplessness and guilt for pardon
and purification, but look up for these into the infinitude
and grace of Him " in whom dwells all the fulness of the
God head bodily." That look is faith 5 and faith is
salvation.
SERMON III.
THE SUPREME EXCELLENCE OF GOD.
Matthew xix. 16, 17. — "And behold, one came, and said unto him,
Good Master, what good thing shall I do, that I may have eternal life ?
And he said unto him, Why callest thou me good ? there is none good
but one, that is God. "
The eternal Son of God knew perfectly what was in
every man who came nnto him in the days of his flesh.
AVith far more accuracy and certainty than man can read
the character in the expression of the eye, or in the feat-
ures of the face, did the onmiscient Redeemer read the
character of the very soul itself, in its inward expression
and lineaments. Hence his answers to questions always
had reference to the disposition and temper of the ques-
tioner. "Our Saviour Christ," says Lord Bacon, "not
being like man, who knows man's thoughts by his M'ords,
but knowing men's thoughts immediately, he never an-
swered their words, but their thoughts." Thus, when the
chief priests and elders of the people came unto him as he
was teaching, and asked by what authority he did so, and
who gave him the authority, knowing that this question
was not put from any sincere desire to learn the truth re-
specting himself and his M'-orks, but from a wish to work
him evil, he answered their question by asking them a ques-
tion regarding the baptism of John — a question which,
however they answered it, would condemn their past treat-
SUPREME EXCELLEKCE. 35
ment of John, and their present refusal to acknowledge
himself to be the Messiah of whom John was the fore-
runner. Again, when one asked the question, "Are there
few to be saved ? " our Lord, knowing that an idle curiosity
had prompted it, answered by saying, " Strive to enter in
at the strait gate ; for many, I say imto you, will seek to
enter in, and shall not be able." So, also, in the answer of
the Saviour to the young man who had come asking, "What
good thing shall I do that I may have eternal life ? " refer-
ence is had to the state of the young man's opinions. Our
Lord knew that this youth did not look upon the person
whom he was addressing as God manifest in the flesh, but
as a wise human teacher in the things of the law ; and that
he applied to him not as the Truth itself, and the Life it-
self, but only as knowing, perhaps, some portion of infinite
truth, and as being able, perhaps, to point out the way to
eternal life. Hence our Lord begins his reply by inquir-
ing, " "Why callest thou me good ? " Instead of first cor-
recting the young man's erroneous view of the nature and
character of the person to whom he was speaking, he pro-
ceeds as if it were a true one. " You consider me to be a
mere man ; why do you call any mere man good ? Why
do you address a creature as the Holy One ? There is
none good but one, that is God."
By this reply the Saviour intended to bring into the light
the main error of the young man — the opinion, namely,
that any man is good in and of himself. He desired to
awaken in him a sense of sin, so that the self-righteous
youth might be delivered from his pride and self-satisfac-
tion, and be led to look away from himself and his own
works to God, the source and ground of all goodness ; and
more particularly to that Mediator between God and man
who then and there stood before him.
This text, then, invites us to contemplate the jpre-emir
36 THE SUPKEME
nence of the Divine excellence over that of creatures, and
to draw some inferences from the fact. What, then, are
the senses in which " there is none good but one, that is
God?"
I. In the first place, God is the only necessarily good
Being. We natm-ally shrink from applying the conception
of necessity to a free spirit ; but it is because we associate
with it the notion of external compulsion. God is not
forced to be holy by an agency outside of himself, and
other than his own ; and it is not in this sense that he is
necessarily good.
But there is a necessity that has its foundation in the
nature and idea of a thing, as when we say that a triangle
necessarily has three sides. We say that God is necessarily
existent, not because he is forced to exist by something out
of himself, but because the idea of an infinite and abso-
lutely perfect Being implies necessity of being. A being
who once did not exist, and who may become extinct, is a
finite and imperfect being, and consequently not God. In
like manner God is necessarily holy, because the concep-
tion of infinite excellence excludes the possibility of apos-
tasy and sin which attaches to finite virtue. Infinite holi-
ness is immutable, and therefore infinite sinfulness is
impossible. God's will is one with his reason in such a
mode that the supposition of a schism and conflict between
the two contradicts the idea of God. In the case of a finite
creature, we can conceive of a conflict between the con-
stitutional and the executive faculties without any altera-
tion in the grade of existence ; but if the infinite Creator
fall into collision with himself, he is no longer infinite.
Man's will may come into hostility to his conscience, and
he still remain human. Angels may fall, and still be
angels. Both continue in the same relative grade of ex-
istence as before the change — that of a finite and mutable
EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 37
creature. But if a schism and conflict should be intro-
duced into the Godhead, and he should fall into collision
with himself, he would by that single fact prove himself
to belong to a changeable and finite grade of being. It
could not be said of him : " Thou art the same from ever-
lasting to everlasting. With thee there is no variableness,
neither shadow of turning." At such a catastrophe, hell
from beneath would be moved with a more profound
amazement than that which greeted the fallen Lucifer,
and with a more awful surprise than heart can conceive of
there would burst from all the ranks of limited and nni ta-
ble intelligences the utterance: "Art thou, the Eternal,
become like one of us ? " The unique and transcendent
perfection, then, of an infinite Being precludes the possi-
bility of his becoming finite in any respect — and to become
evil is to become finite ; nay, more, is to become weak, and
miserable, and guilty.
But not only does the idea of the Deity imply his neces-
sary excellence, it is implied also in his position and rela-
tionships. From the very nature of these, the divine will
cannot be divorced from the divine reason and come into
hostility to it. " God cannot be tempted," says St. James,
and there cannot be sin without temptation. There is
nothing greater and better than the Infinite that can be an
inducement to apostasy. When man apostatized, there was
something above him which he was reaching out after.
He desired to become " as gods." He expected to attain
a higher position. But God is already God — infinite, self-
sufficing, and blessedly self-satisfied. There is nothing
higher than himself to reach after. I^o motive to sin can
assail the Supreme, and therefore sin is impossible to him.
In order to be tempted, God was compelled to become in-
carnate, and assume a finite, temptable nature.
Will and reason, then, in God are one and inseparable,
38 THE SUPREME
and he is necessarily good in the same sense that he is
necessarily existent. There is no compulsion from with-
out, but the necessity is implied in the idea of the Being.
God's pure and perfect nature is the law and principle of
God's pure and perfect character. Should the two become
contrary and hostile, the Infinite would become finite, the
Creator would become a creature. There is none good,
then, but God, in the sense that if he becomes evil he
loses his grade of being. The divine excellence, there-
fore, is as necessary and immutable as the divine existence.
Does God cease to be holy, he ceases to be deity.
II. In the second place, God is the only originally good
Being. All rational creatures, if they are good, derive their
goodness. They are not good in and of themselves as
the ultimate source. They look up to a yet better Being,
and confess that they are only reflections of a splendor and
glory that is above them. Hence the finite mind adores /
but the infinite mind never does or can. Hence the
angel lifts up his eye in the beatific vision, that his soul
may rest upon a deeper and firmer virtue than his own.
Hence the man prays and supplicates for an excellence that
is not aboriginal and necessarily connected with his own
being. But God is goodness, not merely has it. God is
love, not merely has it. God is light, not merely has it.
Will and reason are identical in him. He is not excellent
because his nature derives excellence from another's
nature, but because it is infinite excellence itself. Right-
eousness is not so much a particular attribute of God as it
is his essential quality ; the supporter of his attributes,
that which is the substrate of them all, that which pene-
trates them and makes them fair, lovely, and perfect. As
the earth is at once the bearer and nourisher of all trees
and fruits, and by its genial influence and nurture makes
them pleasant to the e3'e and good for food, so righteous-
EXCELLENCE OF GOD. d9
ness is tlie nnderljing ground of all the attributes of God.
Righteousness imparts to the divine justice its serene and
awful beauty, liighteousness regulates the divine mercy,
and prevents it from becoming mere indulgence. Right-
eousness enters into all the natural attributes of Jeho-
vah, and renders his onmipotence, and omnipresence — his
otherwise soulless and characterless traits — worthy of love
and reverence. The Platonists speak of an original light
that is the source of all the light of the sun and stars — a
light that is pureness itself, and gives to the sun its dazzle
and to the stars their sparkle. So righteousness is the
aboriginal rectitude from which all the qualities of
Jehovah derive their worth and perfection, and of which
all finite virtue is the faint reflection.
III. In the third place, God is the only self-suhsistently
good Being. His excellence does not depend upon the will
and power of any other than himself. All created spirits,
as we have already hinted, must look to God for the exist-
ence and perpetuity of righteousness within themselves ;
but God looks only to himself that he may be righteous.
As he is self-subsistent in his being, so he is in his char-
acter. The divine will needs no strengthening in order to
its continuing holy, because it is already an infinite force.
Its energy is omnipotent, and we have seen that it is so
blended and one with the divine reason that a separation
and antagonism is conceivable only upon the supposition
that God ceases to be infinite. The goings forth of the
divine will are without variableness or shadow of turning.
From eternity to eternity the decisions and determinations
of God are but the efflux of the divine essence, and partici-
pate in the immanent and necessary characteristics of the
divine constitution. The triune God, therefore, is indepen-
dently good. Though the finite creation should all aposta-
tize and become evil, yet God remains the same Holy One
40 THE SUPREME
for ever. Man is affected by the fall of man ; angels are
seduced from their allegiance by angels ; God alone is
unmoved and unaffected by all the change and apostasy of
creation. In the calm air of his own eternity he exists
unchangeably holy, because of a self-sufficient and self-sus-
taining power ; while angels and men fall away from holi-
ness and from him, and introduce sin and death into the
universe.
lY. And this leads naturally to the fourth position,
that God is the only immutably good Being. This is a
glorious truth for every created mind that is good, and de-
sires to remain so. The Supreme Being is unchangeably
excellent. The infinitude of his nature places him beyond
all the possibilities, contingencies, and hazards of finite exist-
ence. All the created universe may fall from goodness,
but God is no part of the universe. He created all the
worlds from nothing, and whatever they may be or do does
not in the least affect his nature and attributes. God is
the Being from whom other beings fall away into sin and
misery. As the essence of God would not be affected in
the least if the entire substance of the universe should be
annihilated, or if it had never been made f i-om nothing, so
the moral excellence of God would not be diminished in
the slightest manner though all the creatures of his power
should plunge into the abyss of evil. Amidst the sin of a
world, and in opposition to the kingdom and prince of
evil, God remains immutably holy, and by the intrinsic and
eternal immaculateness of his character is entitled to deal
out an eternal judgment, and a righteous retribution, upon
every soul that doeth evil. Though he sees in his universe
nnich iniquity, yet he is of purer ej'es than to look upon it
with any indulgence. Though sin has been the product of
the will of man for six thousand years, yet his moral anger
burns with the same steady and di'eadf ul intensity against
EXCELLENCE OP GOD. 41
it now, as when Adam heard the voice of the Lord God
walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and was
afi-aid, and hid himself. The same spiritual excellence in
God which caused the flood to destroy the old wicked
world, and which rained fire and brimstone upon filthy
Sodom and Gomorrah, causes him to be displeased with
the wicked this day, and every day.
ISTow, there is something indescribably cheering and
strengthening in this truth and fact. As we look abroad
over the world and see how full of sin it is ; as we reflect
upon the limited and feeble nature of all finite spirits,
though they be in the highest range of the heavenly hier-
archies ; as we consider the liability of everything within
the sphere of creation to undergo changes and fluctuations ;
it imparts a serene joy and a calm strength to the soul to
lift up the eye to the eternal hills, and to remember that
above all this sphere of finiteness and limitation and sin
there dwells One Being who is the same from everlasting
to everlasting, and who is not under any possibilities or
liabilities of change either in his existence or his charac-
ter. For the very thought that God might possibly be-
come like his creatures ; that he of whom his own word
asserts " it is impossible that he should lie," should yet be
false to his own nature and to his word ; that he, to whom
the seraphim in their trisagion, their thrice-repeated and
intensely emphasized " holy," ascribe an inherent and neces-
sary perfection, should yet become vile like the worms of
his footstool — the thought, we say, that the Supreme
Being, the first cause and last end of all other beings and
things, might possibly become unholy and unworthy, sends
a shrinking and a shudder through tlie human soul. All
sense of safety and security disappears, and the mind feels
that there is no difference between finite and Infinite ; be-
tween the creature and the Creator. Both alike are liable
42 THE SUPREME
to the contingency of apostasy. Both alike may grovel in
the dust. Kay, rather, let us fall back upon the immuta-
bility and intrinsic unchangeableness of the Divine charac-
ter, and with an upward-looking eye say with one of the
loftiest and lowliest of human spirits : " Lord, I have
viewed the universe over in which thou hast set me ; I
have tried how this thing and that thing will fit my spirit,
and the design of my creation ; and can find nothing in
which to rest, for nothing here doth itself rest ; but such
things as please for awhile, in some degree, vanish and flee
as shadows before me. Lo, I come to thee, the Eternal
Being, the Spring of Life, the Centre of Rest, the Stay of
the Creation ; I join myself to thee ; with thee I will lead
my life and spend my days, with whom I aim to dwell
forever, expecting, when my little, finite, fluctuating time
is over, to be taken up ere long into thy Eternity." *
Thus is it true, that ' ' there is none good but one, that
is God." There is but one Being in whom righteousness
and holiness are necessary, aboriginal, self-subsistent, and
immutable.
But who of us worthily apprehends this great truth ?
Who of us sees with the crystal clearness of a seraph's
vision that God's excellence is transcendent ; that, com-
pared with his immaculateness, angelic purity is not pure,
and the stainless heavens are not clean ? Did we with
open vision behold the infinite excellence of the Creator,
we should be awed like the prophet Isaiah when the pillars
of the temple moved at the voice of the wing-veiled
seraphim, and the house was filled with smoke. And if
our minds were pure, we should pass by all the holiness
and excellence of the creature, and gaze steadfastly upon
the increate and underived excellence of Jehovah, and by
' Howe : Vanity of Man as Mortal.
EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 43^
thus gazing we should be changed into the same image
from glory to glory in an endless succession. But we lan-
guish, we perish, from lack of vision.
That we may be moved to seek the vision granted to the
pure in heart, let us now attend to some of the conclusions
flowing from the truth that " there is none good but one,
that is God."
1. In the first place, then, if God alone is supremely
good, he alone is to be glorified and adored. Goodness is
intrinsically worthy to be magnified and extolled. Right-
eousness is fitted to awaken ascriptions of blessing, and
honor, and thanksgiving, and glory, and dominion, and
power. This accounts for the hallelujahs of heaven.
There is a quality in the increate and transcending excel-
lence of the most high God that dilates the holy mind,
and renders it enthusiastic. Hence the saints on high are
made vocal and lyrical by the vision of God's moral per-
fection, and they give vent to their emotions in " the seven-
fold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies."
There is much of this in the experience of the Psalndst.
He beholds the divine excellence, and glories in it. It is
a species of humble and holy boasting of the greatness and
glory of Jehovah. " My soul shall make her boast in the
Lord ; O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his
name together. In God we boast all the day long, and
praise thy name forever." There is that in the divine
character which, while it abases the creature in reference
to his own personal character and merits, exalts and sub-
limes him in reference to the excellence of his Maker.
This is that unearthly vision which visits the soul of the
dying, and makes his voice ring like a clarion in his pro-
clamation and heralding of what God is. " Praise him"
— said the dying Evarts, one of the coolest, and calmest,
and most judicial of minds, in his ordinary mood, and in
44 THE SUPREME
reference to all finite things — " praise him in a way you
know not of."
This inward glorying in the attributes of God is the
great duty and ultimate end of man. Man's chief end is
to glorify God. Obedience itself, or the performance of
an outward service, is second in rank to this inward service
of worship, when the soul is absorbed and lost in admira-
tion of the divine perfections. All that the creature can
do for God is little or nothing ; and the Almighty cer-
tainly does not need the labor and toil of any of his crea-
tures. But the service is a greater one when the soul ac-
knowledges what God is and does. In this instance, the
human agency acquires an added dignity and value from
the side of Divinity ; even as sin becomes an infinite evil
because of its reference to God. The recognition of the
divine excellence, and the inward adoration that accom-
panies it, is the last accomplishment of the Christian life;
and it is this which crowns, and completes, and thereby
ends, the Christian race and the Christian fight.
Such a feeling as this cannot properly go out toward
any being but the Supremely Good. The secondary re-
cipients from the primary source can never be the objects
of glory and exaltation. Saint-worship is irrational. For
there is none supremely good but one, and none but the
Supreme deserves the exaltation. As there is but one life
in nature, and the individual tree or plant is alive because
it partakes of it, so there is but one Eternal Excellence, and
individual spirits are excellent because tliey participate in
it. God alone, therefore, is worthy to receive all the
glory, and all the extolling, and all the magnifying that
belongs to excellence. To unfold the illustration — when
the naturalist looks upon the tree or the plant, he does not
ascribe the beauty of its form and foliage, and the richness
of its fruit, to that single isolated individual specimen, but
EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 45
to the great general life in nature which produced it ; to
that vast vegetative power which God has impressed upon
nature. In like manner when we see moral excellence in
the creature, we do not ascribe the glory and praise to the
individual, but to that Spirit of Good, the Holy Spirit, who
produced it in him. Neither men nor angels are worthy
to be magnified and extolled, because their virtue is not
aboriginal. The really good man or angel refers his char-
acter to God, and is filled with abhorrence at the thought
of glorifying himself, or of being glorified for it. And
there is no sin that so grieves him as his propensity to a
detestable self -idolatry. When Paul and Barnabas, after
healing the cripple, heard that the priest of Jupiter had
brought oxen and garlands unto the gates, and was about
to offer sacrifice with the people unto them as unto gods
come down in the likeness of men, they rent their clothes
and ran in among the people, crying out, and saying,
" Sirs, why do ye these things ? We also are men of like
passions with you." In like manner does every finite
spirit that really partakes of the Divine excellence recoil
at the thought of ascriptions of praise unto himself, and
says unto those who would forget the Creator in the ex-
cellence of the creature, " Why marvel ye at me ? or
why look ye so earnestly on me, as though by my own
ultimate power or holiness I am holy ?" Whatever, then,
we may think of man, and however we may regard him,
to God alone belong glory, and honor, and thanksgiving,
and blessing, and dominion, and power.
2. Secondly, if God alone is supremely good, it is sin,
and the very essence of sin, not to glorify him.
The ultimate form of moral evil consists in worshipping
the creature, and not exalting and adoring the Creator.
We can often reduce one form of transgression into
another. Theft is a species of selfishness — an attempt to
46 THE SCPREME
gratify personal desires at the expense of another's inter-
est. Ambition is a kind of rebellion — an endeavor to
overleap the limits which have been prescribed to the indi-
vidual by his Maker. And so it is easy to generalize
almost every transgression, and find its root in a wider and
deeper principle of evil. But what generalization is wider
and deeper than the indisposition to worship and magnify
God in the heart ? Hence the apostle Paul, after particu-
larizing the sins of the heathen, gathers and concentrates
the substance of all their sin and guilt in the one fact,
"that when they knew God, they glorified him not as
God " ; that " they worshipped the creature more than the
Creator." And in another place, when he would exhibit
the universal and generic quality in the sin of man, he
strengthens his affirmation that " all have sinned," by the
additional clause, " and come short of the glory of God."
This is an indictment to which every man must plead
guilty, and which stops the mouth of him who is " willing
to justify himself." For who has worshipped and served
the eternal God, in his body and spirit which are His, as
that Being is worthy to be worshipped ? Who of the
sons of men has not come short in this respect ? One of
the Greek words for sin signifies to fail of hitting the
mark by reason of the arrow's not coming up to the tar-
get. If this be the idea and visual image of sin, who of
us is not a sinner ?
There are some advantages, and there are also some dis-
advantages, in looking upon sin as consisting in disobeying
particular commandments; in not keeping this or that
separate precept; in swearing, or lying, or stealing. We
must begin with this, but we must not end with it. If we
stop at this point, we run the hazard of becoming self-
righteous. We are in danger of presuming that because
we do not lie, or swear, or steal, we are morally perfect.
EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 47
In the beginning of the Christian life, the eye is naturally
and properly fixed upon those separate acts of transgres-
sion upon which we can put our finger — that more exter-
nal part of our sinfulness which it is our first and easiest
duty to put away. But we soon learn, if we are progres-
sive, that all these particular transgressions are but differ-
ent modes in which the great and primitive sin of human
nature manifests itself ; are only varied exhibitions of that
disinclination and aversion to glorify God, and extol him
in the heart, which is the ultimate and original sin of man.
He, therefore, who does not, after putting away swearing,
lying, and stealing, look down a little lower into his iieart,
and detect the yet subtler ramifications of his corruption,
will be likely to degenerate into a mere moralist, instead
of becoming one of those spiritually-minded Christians
who become more lowly, and humble, and broken-hearted,
as they become more and more upright and obedient in
their external conduct. The biographies of men like
Leighton and Edwards must ever be a mystery, and a self-
contradiction, to those who do not see that the very essence
and inmost quality of sin consists in the lack of a heart to
magnify the Lord, and to exalt his holy name. Read the
diaries of such men, and witness their moaning in secret
over the vileness of their hearts ; hear the outbursting ex-
pression that " the sin is infinite upon infinite ; " and then
think of the pure and saintly course of their lives, when
those lives are tried by the tests of external and single
commandments, and does it not seem strange and para-
doxical ? These men were not hypocrites. J^o one can
suspect them of this. But were they not self-deceived
and mistaken ? So some critics say, who judge of human
character by the more superficial and outward criteria.
The key to the difficulty is found in the fact, that for
such men as Leighton and Edwards the substance and in-
48 THE SUPEEME
most quality of sin had come to be this continual fail-
ure to glorify God in the heart, in a manner worthy of
God's infinite excellence. Their character in this particu-
lar they felt to be imperfect. They were sinners in this
respect. When they prayed, their prayers were defective
from a lack of full faith in God's being and readiness to
bless ; and this was coming short of God's glory. When
they praised and worshipped, their emotions and utter-
ances were far below God's worthiness and desert ; and
this was coming short of God's glory. When they obeyed
the statutes and commandments of God, it was not with
that totality and completeness of service which is due to
such a perfect and excellent Being ; and this was to come
short of the Divine glory. They could not say, as did the
only perfect man that ever lived upon earth : " I have
glorified thee on the earth : I have finished the work thou
gavest me to do." And their apprehension of the sinful-
ness of this falling short of the chief end of man's crea-
tion was as painful as that which accompanies an ordinary
Christian's sense of guilt when he violates some particular
commandment of the decalogue. They had passed be-
yond the more common forms of sin, because they had, in
a great measure, overcome and subdued them. A class of
temptations which assail us, on our low position and with
our low degree of spirituality, had little or no influence
with them ; and hence we wonder that their expressions
of contrition and self-loathing should be so intense. We
think that if our lives could but reach the pitch of excel-
lence to which they attained, there would be but little
cause for the shame and lamentation which now accompa-
nies our review of our daily walk and conversation. But
with them we should discover that in respect to sin, as in
respect to hell itself, " in every deep there is a lower deep."
The supreme excellence of God, and the spirituality of
EXCELLENCE OF GOD. 49
his law, would dawn more and more upon our rainds ; the
sense of our obligation, as his creatures, to magnify and
glorify him in every act and every element of our exist-
ence, would grow stronger and stronger; our conscious-
ness of failure to render this perfect homage and fealty
would become deeper and deeper; and thus, while our
obedience of particular and single commandments was be-
coming more and more punctilious and uniform, our feel-
ing of defect at the fountain-head of character would
become more and more poignant and self -abasing. We
should see, as we had not before, that the very core and
essence of moral evil consists in " worshipping and serving
the creature more than the Creator." We should under-
stand that there is no sin so wearing and wearisome as
human egotism — as man's inveterate unwillingness to sink
self, and renounce all idolatry, in the liumble and adoring
recognition of God's infinite perfection. We should under-
stand, and sympathize with, that low and penitential refrain
which mingles with the jubilant music of all the saintly
spirits in the history of the Church.
Endeavor, then, to get into this mood and frame of
mind. Be impressed with the greatness, goodness, and
glory of God. Let the Divine attributes encompass you
like an atmosphere. Then you will put away all pride and
vain-glory, and can say in the language of that exquisite
psalm : " Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor mine eyes
lofty ; neither do I exercise myself in great matters, or in
things too high for me. Surely I have behaved and
quieted myself as a child that is weaned of his mother ;
my soul is even as a weaned child."
3
SERMON IV.
THE FATHEEHOOD OF GOD.
Luke xvi. 25. — "But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in
thy life-time receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil
things, but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented."
At first sight, it appears singular that the unbelieving
and impenitent Dives, in the very place of retribution,
should be addressed by Abraham " the father of believ-
ers " by the endearing title of " son." This word, how-
ever, as employed in the Scriptures, has more than one
signification. It may denote only the benevolent and
kindly relation existing between the Creator and the
creature, as when the apostle Paul quotes approvingly the
sentiment of the pagan poet : " We are his offspring ; "
or as when St. Luke, tracing up the genealogy of Christ
to the beginning of creation, calls Adam the "son of
God." And it may also mark merely the relation of de-
pendence and inferiority, in some particular, existing be-
tween man and man. In such connections as these, the
term does not necessarily imply any real filial feeling on
tlie part of the so-called son, or teach that the one to
whom it is applied is in affectionate and childlike sympa-
thy with the one who applies it. Joshua, for instance,
addresses the guilty Achan, who had stolen the Babylon-
ish garment and the wedge of gold, with this endearing
title. " My son, give, I pray thee, glory to the Lord God
THE FATHEEHOOD OF GOD. 51
of Israel, and make confession unto him ; and tell me now
what thou hast done ; hide it not from me." Achan was
not a son in feeling, and in truth. He loved neither God,
nor Joshua the servant of God. Hence, notwithstanding
this employment of the epithet, " Joshua and all Israel
with him took Achan, the son of Zerah, and the silver,
and the garment, and the wedge of gold, and his sons,
and his daughters, and his oxen, and his asses, and his
sheep, and his tent, and all that he had, and stoned him
with stones, and burned them with fire." In like man-
ner, in the text, Abraham who had been called " father "
by the sinful Dives — " Father Abraham, have mercy upon
me " — addresses the guilty creature of God as son : " Son,
remember that thou in thy life-time receivedst thy good
things, and likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is
comforted, and thou art tormented."
The phraseology employed in this parable of our Lord,
together with such a use of the term " son" as that made
by Joshua in reference to Achan, throws light upon the
doctrine of the Fatherhood of God. It is of the utmost
consequence that we make no mistake respecting this im-
portant truth. In what sense, then, is God the Father of
all men ; and in what sense is he not the Father of all
men ? For it is clear that God does not sustain the same
relation in every respect to all mankind equally and alike.
He is not the Father of Judas Iscariot and Nero, in the
identical sense in which he is of the apostle John and
archbishop Leighton. He is not the Father of an impeni-
tent Messalina, in the same way that he is of a broken-
hearted Magdalen. For in the former case there is no
affectionate filial feeling ; and God, by his prophet Mala-
chi, says to any and every man who would use the en-
dearing term while at the same time he does not cherish
the appropriate emotions: "A son honoreth his father;
52 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
if then I be a father, where is mine honor ? " If the
children of men, if any class of creatures, presume to de-
nominate the Eternal One their Father, certainly they
should evince their sincerity by the exercise of the cor-
respondent sentiment.
I. In answering the first question, we remark that God
is the Father of all men indiscriminately and without ex-
ception, in that he is their Creator. The author of any
being or thing is naturally denominated its father. " Have
we not one father ? Hath not one God created us ? "
(Mai. ii. 10). " Hath the rain a father ? And who hath
begotten the drops of the dew ? " (Job xxxviii. 28). When
the devil " speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own " — of
what he himself has invented and made — " for he is a
liar, and the father of it " (John viii. 44). " Every good
gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, and cometh
down from the Father of lights " — the originating author
of all illumination, physical or mental (James i. IT). " To
find the Maker and Father of the universe," says Plato,
" is a difficult task " (Timaeus, 28). In this sense, God is
the Father of all men indiscriminately. The hardened
transgressor who is to be sent to everlasting perdition,
and the penitent believer who is to be raised to heights
of glory, here stand upon the same plane. They are of
that " one blood " of which God made all mankind ; and
there is no difference between them. They are alike his
" offspring," and he is alike their Father. This is the com-
mon basis upon which all creatures appear. The rich and
the poor, the saint and the sinner here meet together, and
the Lord is equally the Maker and providential Father of
them all.
Such a common relationship as this to the Divine provi-
dence and benevolence justifies the use of the word " fa-
ther " in a secondary and qualified meaning. God, be-
THE FATHEEHOOD OF GOD. 53
cause he created the human soul, is profoundly interested
in it. He does not and cannot hate any substance that he
has made. That rational and immortal spirit which he
originated from nothing, and endowed with attributes re-
sembling his own, is very dear to him as its maker. This
is evinced by the care which he takes of it. He maintains
it in being by a positive act of omnipotence, and he is
continually supplying its multiplied wants. Were it not
for his perpetual benevolence and oversight, the soul and
body of man would sink into non-existence, or be over-
whelmed by suffering and pain. Now, such an interest in
the constitutional structure of his creatures on the part of
God, justifies his calling himself " the Father of the spir-
its of all flesh." And every human being, whatever his
moral character, is an object of benevolent and paternal
concern to his maker. Even when he is transgressing
the Divine law, the Divine hand that made him holds him
in existence, crowns his life with blessings, makes the sun
to shine upon him, and the rain to fall upon his broad
acres, as if he were a child in the high and tender mean-
ing of the word.
n. But while this is so, and should awaken sorrow in
every man for his rebellion and ingratitude, it is neverthe-
less a fact that God is not the Father of all men indis-
criminately in the highest and fullest sense of the term —
their Father by redeiivption and adojption.
For man in his unrenewed state is an enemy of God.
" The carnal mind is enmity against God " (Rom. viii. 7).
We are " by nature children of wrath " (Eph. ii. 3). This
is the attitude in which, by reason of apostacy, man stands
towards his kind and benevolent Creator. And this attitude
is incompatible with the relation of father and child in
the full, tender, and affectionate meaning of these terms.
With such an inimical feeling in the heart, it is impossible
54 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
to cry, "Abba, Father! " An enemy of God cannot sincerely
say, " Our Father which art in heaven." Hence the apostle
describes the change that is made by regeneration, in the
following language : " Ye have not received the spirit of
bondage again to fear ; but ye have received the spirit of
adoption whereby we cry Father, Father. The spirit itself
beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of
God." Previously to this, the parties have been estranged
from each other. Sinful man fears his holy Maker, and
his holy Maker frowns upon sinful man. And these words
are to be taken in their strict meaning upon both sides.
It is a false view that represents God as really complacent
towards every man irrespective of his character, and that
it is only the creature's groundless fear that stands in the
way of a pleasant and happy intercourse. God really and
truly makes a difference in his own mind and feeling be-
tween the man that obeys and confides in him, and the
man who disobeys and distrusts him. He is positively
displeased with the transgressor of his law, and the recon-
ciliation which is effected by the atonement of Christ is
mutual. God's holiness is reconciled to man, and man is
reconciled to God. When a penitent sinner trusts in the
expiatory sacrifice of Jesus Christ, then the triune God
becomes his Father in the high and endearing signification
of the term, and the man becomes a child of God in the
same signification. The relation which is now established
between the parties is not merely that of the creature to
the Creator — a relation that does not necessarily involve
love and obedience — but there is mutual affection, and
delightful intercourse and communion. On the evening of
the night in which Chalmers was summoned instantaneous-
ly from earth to heaven, he was overheard while walking
in his garden uttering in earnest and affectionate tones :
" My Father, O my heavenly Father." This is childhood
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 55
in the full sense ; and this is the Divine fatherhood in
its blessed truth and reality. " As many as are led by the
spirit of God, they are the sons of God " (Rom. viii. 14).
" I have often found," says Bunyan, " that when I can
say but this word Father^ it doth me more good than if I
called him by any other Scripture name. It is worth your
noting, that to call God by this title was rare among the
saints in Old Testament times. Seldom do you find him
called by this name — no, sometimes not in three or four
books ; but now, in New Testament times, he is called by
no name so often as this, both by the Lord Jesus himself,
and by the apostles afterwards. Indeed, the Lord Jesus
was he that first made the name common among the saints,
and that taught them, both in their discourse, their prayers,
and their writings, so much to use it ; it being more pleas-
ing to God, and discovering more plainly our interest in
God, than any other expression. For by this one name,
we are made to understand that all our mercies are the
offspring of God, and that we also that are called are his
children by adoption." '
Having thus briefly explained the senses in which God
is and is not the Father of all men, we turn to deduce
some practical lessons from the subject.
1. In the first place, we see how it is possible for God
to be both a Father and a Judge at one and the same
time, and to both love and abhor simultaneously. The
reader of the Bible observes sometimes with perplexity,
that God is represented as looking upon man with two
wholly diverse emotions. The Scriptures seem to be self-
contradictory. Sometimes God appears as yearning over
man in compassion ; and sometimes as consuming him with
the blast of the breath of his nostrils. Sometimes his utter-
' Bunyan : Come, and Welcome, to Jesus Christ.
56 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
ance is : " Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die ? As I live,
saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of
the wicked. The Lord doth not afflict willingly nor grieve
the children of men." And sometimes the declaration is:
" Thou hatest all workers of iniquity. God is angry with
the wicked every day. Who may stand in thy sight when
once thou art angry ! Who knoweth the power of thine
anger ! Even according to thy fear so is thy wrath. The
wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all un-
riofhteousness. He that believeth not the Son shall not
see life ; but the wrath of God abideth on him." How
can these two feelings co-exist in one and the same Being,
towards one and the same person ? How can blessing and
cursing proceed out of the same mouth ? How can the
same fountain send forth both sweet waters and bitter ?
Must we not assume that one or the other of these dec-
larations is figurative, and in this way harmonize the
Bible with itself ?
In the light of the distinction between God as the be-
nevolent creator and preserver of all men — their provi-
dential Father in the general sense, and God as the re-
deeming and reconciled Father of penitent believers — their
Father in the special sense, we find the clue to the diffi-
culty. The kindly and benevolent feeling of the general
paternity may co-exist with the holy displeasure of the
righteous Judge. Even an imperfect man is capable of
such a double emotion. A kind earthly father, or a gen-
tle mother, may be filled with most intense displeasure at
the hardened wickedness and profligacy of a child, and
yet at the same time would gladly lay down life to se-
cure his repentance and eternal welfare. By reason of
the father's or the mother's moral excellence and resem-
blance to God, there can be nothing but abhorrence of
the child's sin ; and if the parent should be informed from
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 57
an infallible source that the child would never repent, but
would continue a hardened and wilful transgressor through
all eternity, he would not only acquiesce in the judgment
of God that banished him from heaven, but would say
with all the holy, " Amen : so it must be, so it should be."
For sin is an evil and a terrible thing, and even the dear-
est earthly ties cannot induce a holy and spiritual mind to
approve of it, or desire that it should escape the merited
punishment. And yet that parent is ready for any self-
sacrifice that would deliver the rebellious and transgressing
child from sin, and the penalty of sin. He says with
David over the dead body of his wicked son : " O my son
Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had
died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son ! " And, with
David, he never presumes to question the righteousness
of the divine procedure in the punishment of a hardened
transgressor, even though that transgressor be bone of his
bone and flesh of his flesh.
The feeling of displeasure with which God regards sin
belongs to his pure and perfect nature, and it is impossi-
ble for him to exist without it. It is no more optional
with him to abhor iniquity, than it is to be omnipotent or
omnipresent. God must, from his very nature and idea,
be all-powerful, and in every place ; and for the same rea-
son he must react against evil wherever it exists. But at
the same time he has no malice in his nature. He wishes
well to every creature whom he has made. He cherishes
a benevolent, and in this sense a paternal feeling towards
every rational spirit. Even a little sparrow does not fall
dead to the ground without his taking an interest in it ;
and certainly, then, he cannot be inspired with any ma-
licious or unkind emotion toward the rational and immortal
spirits who are of more value than many sparrows. The
Creator can feel a natural and necessary abhorrence of the
68 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
sinner's sin, while yet he feels an infinite compassion for
the sinner's soul. Says Augustine : " It is written, ' God
commendeth his love towards us, in that while we were
yet sinners Christ died for us.' He loved us, therefore,
even when in the exercise of enmity against him we weie
working iniquity. And yet it is said with perfect truth :
' Thou hatest,* O Lord, all workers of iniquity.' Where-
fore, in a wonderful and divine manner he both hated and
loved us at the same time. He hated us as being differ-
ent from what he had made us ; but as our iniquity had
not entirely destroyed his work within us, he could at
the same time, in every one of us, hate what we had done,
and love what he liad created."
God loves man as a creature, while he is angry with
him as a sinner. He takes a deep and tender interest in
the soul which he has made and keeps in existence, while
he is filled with a deep displeasure at the sin which is in
that soul. Where is the inconsistency in the simultaneous
existence of these two emotions? Each is exercised to-
wards its proper object. The love goes out towards the
soul as such ; and the wrath goes out towards the sin as
such. The sin is in the soul and cannot be separated from
it except by the substitution of holiness in its place. If,
then, any man retains the sinfulness of his soul, he must
not expect that God's general benevolence and providen-
tial paternity will nullify his holiness ; that his interest in
the workmanship of his hands will overcome his regard
for truth and righteousness, and induce him to let sin go
unpunished. The providential paternity of God, and the
universal sonship of man, are consistent with the punish-
ment of incorrigible and hardened depravit3\
2. In the second place, we learn from this subject, that
it is our duty to exercise the same feelings towards the
soul of man, and the sin of man, that God does.
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 59
We are commanded to imitate God in his moral perfec-
tions. " Be ye holy for I am holy. Be ye perfect as your
Father in heaven is perfect." We cannot obey these in-
junctions without sympathizing with God in his benevolent
love for -the human soul, and his holy disapprobation of
human sinfulness. And this sympathy should be seen first
in reference to ourselves, and then in regard to others.
We have no right to treat other souls difiFerently from our
own. Religion must begin at home, and hence while we
cherish a rational love for our own souls, we should at the
same time sternly condemn and abhor our own personal
sin. A man should both love and hate himself. While
he says : " Skin for skin, yea, all that I have I will give for
my life," he should also say, " I abhor myself." While he
is deeply anxious for his own well-being here and here-
after, he should sympathize with his holy Maker in abom-
inating the iniquity of his own heart. These two feel-
ings are not incompatible. Nay, we never begin to love
ourselves aright, until we begin to condemn and hate our
sins.
And, certainly, if we deal in this manner with our own
souls and our own sins, we are entitled to deal in this
manner with the souls and sins of others. As we mingle
in society and come in contact with our fellow-creatures
and our fellow-sinners, we ought to feel the same desire
that God does for their soul's welfare, and the same ab-
horrence which he feels for their soul's sin. No malice, no
envy, no ill-will, towards any creature of God should ever
rise within us. We ought to wish well to the whole ra-
tional universe. Such was the angelic song : " Peace on
earth, and good will to men." As creatures simply, and
not taking their sinfulness into account, we should love all
men indiscriminately, and desire their happiness in time
and eternity. But when we leave out this characteristic,
60 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
and contemplate any man as an antagonist of God, and a
bitter enemy of that holy and perfect Being, we should be
filled with a righteous displeasure, and desire his punish-
ment. We should say with David : " Do not I hate them,
0 Lord, that hate thee ? I hate them with perfect hatred :
1 count them mine enemies " (Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22).
And if we have done all this in reference to ourselves
personally, mankind will not complain if we subject them
to the same tests, and treat them in the same manner.
Nay, more, we shall do them good by our impartiality and
sincerity. If we really love their souls, they will let us
hate their sins. If we labor and pray, that as creatures of
God, and capable of eternal purity and joy, they do not go
down to perdition, they will not object to the severest
denunciation of their iniquity.
It is the duty of the Church to sympathize with God
in all his feelings towards a world lying in wickedness.
Christians must not be inspired with any mere sentimental-
ism in reference to the sins and sorrows of man, for God
is not. With him they must look with a clear, impartial
eye, and remember that wherever there is suffering in the
universe of God, there is sin. These sorrows of humanity
are the consequence of the guilt of humanity, and when
we look upon them, either in our own case or that of
others, we are to say : " Just and righteous art thou, O
God, in all this punitive infliction. Man has transgressed,
and therefore he suffers. Death hath passed upon all
men, because all have sinned." And on the other hand,
we are to sympathize with God in his tender concern for
the soul, as distinguished from the sin. We are to see in
every fellow-man a spark of the Divine intelligence ; a
partaker, as St. Peter says, of a divine nature ; an immor-
tal spirit similar to the Eternal Spirit, and destined to live
forever. We are to remember that such an essence as this
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 61
is worth saving ; that it is an infinite loss when it goes to
perdition, and that no sacrifice is too great to save it.
God, who looks into the nature of things, saw its value,
and shrank not from the most costly sacrifice. He spared
not his own Son, but gave him up in order that the soul,
the rational deathless nature of man, might be saved.
What an increase of power would be imparted to the
Church, if every member of it M^ere filled with these two
emotions, pure and simple, which dwell in the bosom of
God. There would be no self-indulgence in sin, and no
weak and fond indulgence of sin in others. The eye
would be single, solemn, piercing, holy. A healthy con-
science would brace up and strengthen the entire man,
and he would go forth into the world, a terror to evil-
doers, and a praise to them who do well. And at the
same time, this Christian would be a very tender-hearted
creature. He would feel the worth of every soul in itself,
abstracted from the sin that is in it. His heart would
yearn towards it, as an emanation from God, and an im-
mortal thing for which Christ died. His works would
follow his faith, and he would labor and pray for its wel-
fare, with a solemnity, a persistence, and a holy earnest-
ness, that would certainly receive the Divine approbation
and blessing.
3. In the third place, this subject furnishes a test of
a renewed and spiritual mind.
A worldly mind is selfish in its love, and selfish in its
hatred. It is displeased with sin when it interferes with
its own enjoyment, and it is pleased with righteousness
when it promotes its own happiness. If the worldling
loses something in his own mind, body, or estate, by the
tlieft or the lie of a transgressor, he inveighs bitterly
against these particular sins. And if he is the gainer
in his worldly circumstances by the industry, honesty, or
62 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
godliness of a Christian man, he is profuse in his praise of
these virtues and graces. But he does not love holiness
for its own intrinsic excellence, neither does he hate sin
because of its abstract odiousness. If the sins of his fel-
low-men would promote his selfish purposes, he would en-
courage them, and be highly displeased at any attempt to
check or remove them. His character and feelings are
exactly the reverse of those of God. . He has no love for
the soul of his fellow-man as the workmanship of the
Creator, and no abhorrence of his sin as an evil thing in
itself and under all circumstances. He cares not what
becomes of the immortal part of his fellow-creature. He
never toils or prays for its welfare. And his feelings
towards the sins of a fellow-creature depend entirely upon
how his interests are affected by them. Terrible as is the
fact, it is nevertheless a fact, that the selfishness of the
natural heart hesitates not to sacrifice the very soul, the
very being itself, of a fellow-creature, in order to attain its
o\vn purposes. Alexander and Napoleon, in the prosecu-
tion of their plans, used the bodies and minds of millions
of their fellow-men as the potter uses the passive clay.
And how many there are, in narrower circles than those
of the conqueror and the monarch, who do the same
thing, and are madly rushing to the same condemna-
tion.
But not so with the true child of God. He loves the
Boul, and hates the sin. His feeling in each instance is
pure, spiritual, disinterested. He loves his own soul and
abhors his own sin. And he does by others as he does by
himself. He is not displeased with the transgressions of
men merely because they injure his private interests, lie
would gladly suffer that loss, if thereby he could secure
their repentance and reformation. He abhors their iniquity
for its own intrinsic quality, as God abhors it. His hatred
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 63
of moral evil is spiritual, disinterested, liolj, like that of
his Father in heaven, with whom he sympathizes, and
for whose honor he is jealous. And his love for the wel-
fare of every man indiscriminately partakes of the same
spirituality. He is ready to toil, give of his substance,
and pray for the salvation of fellow-creatures whom he
never- saw, and never will see, until he stands with them
at the judgment seat. He needs no introduction in order
to take an interest in a lost man. The heathen in the
heart of China or of Africa lie with as much weight upon
his heart and conscience, as do the impenitent in his ovni
neighborhood. Worldly men sometimes wonder, and some-
times scofP, at the interest which the Church of God is
taking in the millions of paganism who are thousands of
miles away from them. They tell us that the heathen are
at our own doors, and regard this great endeavor to obey
the last command of Christ to preach the gospel to every
creature, as quixotic and visionary. But they feel no
Divine love for man as the image of God ; as a creature
who came from the same plastic hand that they came from ;
as an immortal spirit possessing the same properties and
qualities that they are possessed of ; and above all, as the
object of the same Divine pity in the blood of Christ by
which they themselves must be saved, if saved at all.
They have no fellow-feeling with their race ; and what is
yet more, they have no sympathy with God the Redeemer
of man.
It is obvious that this is a very searching and a very
accurate test of Christian character. It is possible to
cherish a religiousness that is so selfish, so destitute of
warm and disinterested love for human welfare, as to de-
serve condemnation. This is the weak side, this is the
great defect, in some very interesting phases of religious
character. Look at the mediaeval monk and his severe spir-
64 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
itiial experiences. He is constantly occupied with the salva-
tion of his soul. He thinks of nothing else, and lives for
nothing else. And yet in finding his life he loses it. All
these experiences are a refined form of self-love. He has
merely transferred his self-seeking from time to eternity.
What he needs is, to love others as he loves himself ; to break
out from his seclusion and preach the gospel to his fellow-
men. Having freely received, he should freely give. Those
are truthful and discriminating remarks which the historian
of Latin Christianity makes respecting the famous treatise
on the " Imitation of Christ," in which this species of piety
finds its finest and most winning delineation. " Its sole,
single, exclusive object," he says, " is the purification, the
elevation of the individual soul, of the man absolutely
isolated from his kind, of the man dwelling alone in soli-
tude in the hermitage of his own thoughts ; with no fears
or hopes, no sympathies of our common nature : he has ab-
solutely withdrawn and secluded himself not only from
the cares, the sins, the trials, but from the duties, the con-
nections, the moral and religious fate of the world. Never
was misnomer so glaring, if justly considered, as the title
of the book, the ' Imitation of Christ.' That which
distinguishes Christ, that which distinguishes Christ's
apostles, that which distinguishes Christ's religion — the
love of man — is entirely and absolutely left out. Had
this been the whole of Christianity, our Lord himself (with
reverence be it said) had lived like an Essene, working out
or displaying his own sinless perfection by the Dead Sea :
neither on the mount, nor in the temple, nor even on the
cross. The apostles had dwelt entirely on the internal
emotions of their own souls, each by himself ; St. Peter
still by the lake Gennessaret, St. Paul in the desert of
Arabia, St. John in Patmos. Christianity had been with-
out any exquisite precept for the purity, the happiness of
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 65
social or domestic life ; without self-sacrifice for the good
of others ; without the higher Christian patriotism, devo-
tion on evangelic principles to the public weal ; without
even the devotion of the missionary for the dissemination
of gospel truth ; without the humbler and gentler daily
self-sacrifice for relatives, for the wife, the parent, the
child. Christianity had never soared to be the civilizer of
the world. ' Let the world perish, so the single soul can
escape on its solitary plank from the general wreck,' such
had been its final axiom." '
4. In the fourth place, we learn from this subject, how
sad must be the Jinal condition of those who never be-
come the "dear children" of God, and to whom God is
not a Father in the high and endearing sense of these
terms.
It is a frequent remark, that a blessing or a privilege
when abused or perverted becomes the greatest of curses.
And so it is in this instance. If we pervert and abuse the
relation which as creatures we sustain to our Creator — if
we live upon his bounty, and yet rebel against his authority
— the fact that we are his offspring will only increase our
condemnation. This paternal interest which God takes in
us as his workmanship — this care, this protection, this
providence which guards and guides us every day — if it
be accompanied with no suitable feeling and action upon
our part, will only result in a severer punishment. Unless
by faith and repentance we come to be more than the crea-
tures of God ; unless we become children and he becomes
a Father in the full and blessed sense, our God and Father
in Christ ; there is no peace or joy possible for us. It will
be no source of comfort to remember that he is the provi-
dential Father of all spirits by creation. The devils them-
'Milman : Latin Christianity, Book XTV., Chap, iii
66 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
selves share in this general fatherhood and benevolence
of the Supreme Being. There is no malice in the Eternal
Mind toward the arch-fiend himself. That fallen and
wicked spirit is as dependent as he ever was upon the
sustaining providence of the Most High. He is as much
as ever the offspring of the Almighty. In this sense, he
is still a son of the Highest. But this only renders him
the more intensely guilty and unhappy. He has abused,
and he is still and ever abusing the Divine benevolence,
the Divine beneficence, the Divine providence, the Divine
paternity. He has no filial feeling towards the Universal
Parent, and therefore God is not his God and Father. He
never says : " Our Father, hallowed be thy name. Thy
kingdom come. Thy will be done." And so it is and
must be in every instance of this kind. It is precisely so
with the impenitent, the unfilial, the alienated man. Un-
less the prodigal returns to his original relations, the fact
that by creation God is his Father M'ill render his con-
demnation more just and righteous, and his condition
more wretched. It will be embittered by the reflection,
that from first to last God was good and kind to him ;
that he never in the least injured the dependent creature
whom he called into being ; that he never felt the least ill-
will towards him, but on the contrary cared for him, and
did him good all the days of his life — in short, that he
exercised towards him all the paternal feeling that was
possible in the case. But there is one phase of a father's
feeling which it is impossible for God to exhibit in such
an instance as this. The creature has become his enemy.
He opposes his will to that of God ; his carnal mind is
not subject to the law of God. The tender and affection-
ate feeling of a father cannot be manifested under such
circumstances. All that God can do in this case is to con-
tinue to exhibit his general benevolence and providential
THE FATHEEHOOD OF GOD. 67
fatherhood, with the desire that it may soften the hard
heart, and that " the goodness of God may lead to repent-
ance." But if it all fails, if the creature to the end abuses
this kindness and persists in his enmity and hatred, then
the benevolent Creator must assume his function of Judge,
and when the final day arrives must sentence this wicked
and impenitent offspring of his to everlasting perdition, as
he has sentenced the rebellious angels before him.
Lay, then, this truth to heart. God cannot be a Father
to any man who cannot from the fulness of his heart cry
unto him, " My Father." His entreaty by his prophet is :
" Wilt thou not from this time cry unto me. My Father,
be thou the guide of my youth." This entreaty, though
primarily addressed to the young, is intended for all. God
desires to be more than our Creator. He is not content
with bestowing these temporal and providential blessings
with which he is crowning our life. He desires to impart
the richer gifts of his grace. He would give not merely
his gifts, but Himself to his creatures. But the creature
repulses him. How many a man is at this very moment
saying to his Maker : " Give me wealth, give me health,
give me worldly ease and pleasure, give me intellectual
power and fame, give me political influence and sway in
the land, but do not give me Thyself." Is such a heart
as this fitted for the world of light and love ? Is this
the utterance of a child ? Can God be a dear Father to
such an one? It is impossible from the nature of the
case.
Lay, not, then the flattering unction to your soul, that
the universal fatherhood of God is sufficient to secure
your eternal welfare. That is a great and glorious truth,
but if you never get beyond it in your religious experience,
to the doctrine of the special and endearing fatherhood
of God in Christ, it will minister to yom* condemnation
68 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
and everlasting woe. Seek, then, to enter into a truly
filial relation with your Maker. Rest not until you have
made your peace with God's holiness and justice by his
blood of atonement, and then you will "know with all
saints the height and depth " of his fatherly love in
Christ, " which passeth knowledge."
SEKMON V.
THE FUTURE VISION OP GOD.
2 Corinthians, iv. 18. — "The things which are not seen are eternal."
There is a difference between things that are not seen,
and things that are invisible. An object may not be seen at
this particular moment, or under the present circumstances,
and yet it may come into sight hereafter, or under a dif-
ferent set of surroundings. But an object that is strictly
invisible cannot be seen either now or hereafter ; from the
present point of view, or from any conceivable position
whatsoever. There are stars in the heavens that have
never yet been observed by any human eye, but which can
be brought into view by a higher power of the telescope.
They are unseen, but they do not belong to the class of
absolute invisibilities. But the spiritual essence of God,
and the immaterial substance of the human soul, are strictly
invisible. IsTot only are they not seen as yet, but they
never will be seen by any vision whatsoever.
This distinction is marked by the apostle Paul, and indi-
cated by the difference in the phraseology which he employs.
In the text, he uses the same form of words (/z^ ^Xeirofieva)
with that employed in Hebrews xi. 1, where it is affirmed
that faith is " the evidence [conviction] of things not seen "
{ov ^€7ro/ji€V(i}v). In this latter instance the writer refers
70 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD.
to objects that are not visible now, but which will be visible
hereafter. " Faith," he says, " is the conviction of things
not seen " in the present, but to be seen in the future. lie
cites in illustration the case of I^oah. The flood had not
yet come and was a " thing not seen," when the patriarch
exercised the act of faith ; but it afterward came, and was
both visible and tangible. But when St. Paul, in Rom. i.
20, declares that " the invisible things of God, from the
creation of the M'orld, are clearly seen, being understood
by the things that are made, even his eternal power and
godhead," he emploj^s a different word {aopara) which
denotes that these things are intrinsically invisible. The
eternal power and godhead — the Divine essence itself, with
its inherent attributes — cannot be seen with the bodily
eye. It can only be " understood," that is, illustrated and
interpreted, " by the things that are made."
The text, then, leads us to contemplate those objects
which we do not see now, but whicli we shall see here-
after. It does not call us to a metaphysical investigation
of those things which are absolutely beyond the reach of
finite cognition, because they are intrinsically invisible and
incomprehensible ; but it invites us to examine those real-
ities which we do not now see, or which at least we see
through a glass darkly, but which we shall hereafter see,
and see face to face.
The first and greatest of these realities is God. After
what we have remarked concerning the Divine essence,
it will of course be understood that we do not mean to
teach that we shall comprehend the mystery of the God-
liead in the future life. " No man hath seen God at any
time." No finite intelligence whatever, be it man or
angel, can penetrate the inscrutable abyss of the Divine
nature. This is an absolute invisibility, and neither in
this world nor the next will the created mind comprehend
THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 71
it. But there is a manifestation of God, whereby he puts
himself into relation and communication with his creatures,
so that they may know him sufficiently to glorify and en-
joy him. The apostle John alludes to this, when, after
saying that no man hath seen the invisible and unsearch-
able God at any time, he adds, " The only begotten God
who is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared him."
In the incarnation of the second trinitarian Person, the
deity steps out, as it were, from behind the thick clouds
and darkness that veil him from the human intelligence,
and shows himself. Think of the difference that has been
made in man's knowledge of God, by the Word's becoming
flesh and dwelling among us. Compare the view of God
which is enjoyed by all who have the four Gospels in their
hands, with that which was granted to the wisest and most
reflecting of the heathen. The little child in the Sabbath-
school knows more of the being and attributes, and par-
ticularly of the purposes of the Most High, than Plato
himself. For Christ, the God-Man, stands before his in-
fantile vision " the brightness of the Father's glory, and the
exact image of his person ; " so that the deity possesses
for this little child's mind in a Christian land a reality,
a distinctness, an excellence, and a beauty, that never was
revealed to the most serious, the most capacious, and the
most highly disciplined intelligence of pagan antiquity.
In the incarnate Word, that " unknown God " whom Paul
alluded to on Mars hill, whom the philosophers of Athens
were ignorantly worshipping, and after whom they were
blindly groping if haply they might find him, assumes a
corporeal human presence. He breaks through the sky,
he bursts the dim ether, and stands out like the sun on the
edge of the horizon a sublime and glorious Form. We
see his face, alas ! marred more than any man ; we hear
his voice. He is Immanuel — God with us. I tell you that
72 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD.
many sages and philosophers, many kings and prophets,
have desired to see those things which the little child now
sees, and have not seen them ; to hear those things which
the little child now hears, and have not heard them.
But the future manifestation of God that is to be made
in heaven is yet more impressive and refulgent than this.
The tabernacling of God in the flesh, eighteen centuries
ago, was only preparatory to the great final manifestation
of himself to his Church in the world of light ; and glo-
rious as was the former, yet far more glorious will be the
latter. " For even that which was made glorious had no
glory in this respect, by reason of the glory that excelleth.
For if that which is done away was glorious, much more
that which remaineth is glorious " (2 Cor. iii. 10, 11).
Christ upon earth in his state of humiliation was indeed
glorious ; but Christ upon the mediatorial throne, still
clothed in human nature but in his estate of exaltation,
is far more glorious.
It is not for us to say in what particulars God will be
manifested to the blessed on high, whereby his presence
will be far more impressive than it was in the theophanies
of the Old Dispensation, or even in the earthly incarnation
of the New. But we know the fact from the teaching of
Scripture. The appearance of Jehovah to Abraham,
when he was in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran ;
to Moses in the burning bush, and on Mount Sinai ; to the
child Samuel in the dim recesses of the temple ; to Isaiah
when he saw the Lord sitting upon a throne high and
lifted up, and his train filled the temple ; and last of all,
the actual residence of this second Person of the Trinity
on the plains of Palestine, and among the hills of Judea —
all these graduated and growing revelations of the deity
fall short of that which shall be in the future world. For
the future world is the final one. All the preparatory
THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 73
steps and stages in the religious education of the Church ;
all the gradual and growing revelations that have heen
employed to bring man into nearer and nearer communi-
cation with the unseen God ; will have accomplished their
purpose. The last wall of separation between the finite
and the infinite Spirit will have been broken down ; man
and God will meet face to face, and know even as they
are known. Hence the last manifestation must be the
crowning one. In heaven, God assumes a form more
glorious and distinct than he has before assumed upon
earth. He puts himself into a relation to human creatures
that will influence them, and affect them, more profoundly
and vividly than ever before.
There is one proof of this to which we invite attention.
It is the fact that the heavenly world is a world of perfect
worship ; and perfect worship supposes a resplendent mani-
festation and clear vision of the Object of worship.
We see the operation of this principle in the idolatries
of the world. The pagan requires some visible form be-
fore which he can bow down, and to which he can address
liis prayers. His error and his sin does not lie in the
fact that he craves an object to worship, but in the fact
that he selects a wrong object. No creature can offer
prayer or praise to a nonentity ; and the idolater is fol-
lowing a legitimate and constitutional conviction of the
human mind, when he seeks some being, real or imagi-
nary, toward whom his religious aspirations may go out,
and upon whom they may terminate. He cannot pray
into the air. His words need to strike upon some object,
and rebound to him in an answer All this is natural
and proper. But his error consists in substituting an
image of gold and silver, or the sun, moon, and stars, or
the forces of nature, for the Invisible Spirit. Reject-
ing that idea of an " eternal poww ^nd Godhead " which
4
74 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD.
St. Paul asserts to be innate in every man, and to be
" clearly seen and understood by the things that are
made," the idolater betakes himself to the notions of his
fancy, which are more in accordance with his vile affec-
tions. Leaving his reason, he takes lessons in theology
from his imagination. " Becoming vain in their imagina-
tions, their foolish heart was darkened ; professing them-
selves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the
glory of the incorruptible God into an image made like to
corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and
creeping things." Not, then, in seeking an object of wor-
ship, but in substituting a false for the true one, does the
sin and folly of the idolater consist. There must be an
object, in order to any worship.
We find this same principle operating in the minds of
believers themselves. What a craving there oftentimes is
in the heart of a child of God, to behold the Being whom
he has worshipped so long, but whom he has never seen.
It is true that he enjoys many aids to his faith and wor-
ship. The history of all these Divine manifestations to
the patriarchs, and prophets, and apostles, is before him,
and he reads it often and again. Still more, the story of
the incarnation, and of the residence of God the Son here
upon earth, he peruses over and over. These place the
object of worship very plainly before him, in comparison
with the dinmess of natural religion, and the darkness of
idolatry. Nevertheless, he desires a fuller manifestation
than this, and looks forward to one in the future. He
sees through a glass darkly, though living under the light
of revelation ; and says with David, " I shall be satisfied
[only] when I awake in Thy likeness." " If," says Rich-
ard Baxter, " an angel from heaven should come down on
earth to tell us all of God that we would know, and might
lawfully desire and ask him, who would not turn his
THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 75
back upon libraries, and universities, and learned men,
to go and discourse with such a messenger ? What travel
should I think too far, what cost too great, for one hour's
talk with such a messenger ? " This is the utterance of that
holy man when he was standing upon the borders of eter-
nity, and was about to go over into the " everlasting rest "
whose felicity he has described so well. This is one of his
" Dying Thoughts," and from it we see how ardently he
desired to behold God, the great Object of worship, face
to face. He had worshipped him long, and he had loved
him long. He had enjoyed a clearer mental vision, prob-
ably, than is granted to most believers. And yet he is not
satisfied. With the Psalmist he cries out : " As the hart
panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after
thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living
God : when shall I come and appear before God ? "
Now from these facts in the human constitution, and in
the Christian experience, we infer that there will be a
full and unclouded vision of God in the future life. This
is one of those " eternal things " which are not seen as
yet, but which will be seen hereafter. For the future
world is the world where worship reaches its perfection ;
and therefore it must be the world where the Object of
worship shines out like the sun. The Scripture figures
and representations imply this. "I saw a great white
throne," says St. John, " and him that sat on it, from
whose face the earth and the heaven fled away, and there
was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small
and great, stand before God." In this description of the
last judgment, the creature and the Creator meet face to
face. Who can doubt, from this statement, that when the
books are opened and the final reckoning is made, the
phenomenal appearance of the Deity will be far more
startling and striking than any previous manifestation that
76 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD.
he has made. "Behold he cometh with clouds; and
every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him."
Here we are told that the human eye looks directly into the
Divine eye. There is even a specification of individuals.
That Roman soldier who pierced the side of the Lord of
Glory on Mount Calvary with his spear, will, in the day of
doom, see that same Eternal One as distinctly as he saw
him when nailed to the cross. These passages relate to
the eternal judgment, and imply an immediate manifesta-
tion of God then and there ; a direct vision of him, face to
face. But with equal plainness do the representations of
St. John respecting the eternal worship teach the same
truth. "I saw," he says, " no temple in the heavenly Je-
rusalem ; for the Lord God Almighty, and the Lamb, are
the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun,
, neither of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of God
i did lighten it, and the Lamb is tlie light thereof. And
his servants see his face, and his name is in their fore-
heads." It is not possible, as we have before remarked,
to imagine or describe this glorious and final theophany.
We cannot draw a picture of that resplendent Form be-
fore which the heavenly hosts bow in reverence and love.
And all such attempts to go beyond what is written are
presumptuous. The Italian painters sometimes do this ;
and even our own Milton, in some of his attempts to delin-
eate the state and glory of the Eternal God, not only shows
a faltering pinion, but derogates from the Divine honor.
The subject is beyond human powers. Even the pen of
inspiration could not convey to such faculties as those of
man, and particularly to such an earthly-minded creature as
he is, an adequate and full idea of the " excellent glory."
Nevertheless, there is such a glory ; there is such a tran-
scendant manifestation of the great Object of worship.
And it is for us to think of it as we do of a star, or a sun,
THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 77
that is not yet within the range of our vision. We have
no doubt that Sirius is this moment shining witli a bril-
liancy beyond conception ; that he is throwing out beams
into universal space that glitter and gleam beyond any
light that ever was on sea or land. We do not now see
that star ; our eyes are not now blinded by its intolerable
brightness. But there are eyes that behold it ; and if it
should be brought within the range of our vision, wej
should be forced to shield our orbs from its glare. Just
so is it with the celestial manifestation of God. It does
not now strike upon our vision, because we are upon
earth. It is one of the " eternal things " which are not
seen as yet. But it is none the less a reality. The star
is shining in full effulgence within its own sphere ; and
there are creatures who behold and adore. " Beloved,
now are we the sons of God, and it doth not appear what
we shall be ; but we know that when he shall appear, we
shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." '
For it will not be possible to offer unto God a perfect
worship, until we see him as the angels and the spirits of
just men made perfect see him. Even here upon earth,
the fervency of our love and praise depends upon the
clearness with which we behold the Divine perfections.
When our spiritual perception is dim, our worship is
faint ; but when we are granted, in the sanctuary or in the
closet, some unusual views of our Maker and Redeemer,
our languid affections are quickened. Worship, as we
have repeatedly remarked, depends upon a sight of the
Object of worship ; and it rises or sinks as that comes into
our view, or recedes from it. The Persian Fire-Worship-
pers adored the sun. So long as that luminary was below
the horizon they were silent, and offered no worship ; but
' On the beatific vision, see Augustine's City of God, Book XXII.
Chap. xxix.
78 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD.
when the first streaks of light and the first bars of crimson
began to appear in the morning sky, they began to kindle
in their own minds. Yet their worship did not reach its
height, nntil
' ' Right against the eastern gate
The great sun began his state,
Robed in flames and amber light."
So is it with Christian worship. Here upon earth we
see some faint streaks of the Divine glory, and we offer
some faint and imperfect adoration. But when the full-
orbed glory of God shall rise upon our clear and purged
vision in another world, our anthems will be like those of
the heavenly host. Here upon earth, our praise is to
some degree an effort. We study, and we toil, to give
unto God the glory due unto his name. And this is right.
For here, in time, our religion must be to some extent a
race and a fight. There are obstacles to a perfect service
which arise from our own indwelling sin, and from the
unfavorable circumstances in which we are placed in a
world like this. And among these unfriendly circum-
stances is the fact, that here in time God does not reveal
himself in the fulness of his glory. We see him through
a glass darkly. But when we shall " come and appear be-
fore God"; when we shall behold the Object of worship
precisely as he is, it will cost us no effort to worship him.
Our adoration will become spontaneous and irrepressible.
For the Object itself prompts the service. We shall not
need to urge our hearts up to the anthem. They will be
drawn out by the magnetic attraction, the heavenly beanty
of the Divine Nature.
We have thus considered one of those eternal realities
which are not seen as yet. We have meditated upon that
special manifestation which God makes of himself to the
worshippers in the upper sanctuary. Guided by the state-
THE FUTUKE VISION OF GOD. 79
ments of Scripture, which are also confirmed by the in-
stinctive desires of the renewed heart, as well as bj the
constitutional workings of the human mind, we have seen
that the great object of our love and our worship will not
always be seen through a glass darkly. The Christian will
one day behold God face to face. Man was originally
made to live in the immediate presence of his Maker. The
account that is given us in the opening chapters of Gene-
sis shows that Adam's intercourse with God was much
like that which the angels enjoy. And is it reasonable to
suppose that when the Creator had produced a creature in
his own likeness, and had endowed him with holiness and
knowledge, and made him capable of a blessed companion-
ship with himself, he would then have thrust him away
from his presence and shut him out of his communion ? In
the pagan mythology, Saturn devours his own children ; but
that glorious and blessed Being " of whom the whole family
in heaven and earth is named," delights to communicate
the fvJn'^ss of his own joy to his offspring. Nothing but
apostasy and rebellion have interrupted this primeval in
tercourse between man and God. When guilty Adam
heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in
the cool of the day, he hid himself. Previously to this,
that voice had had no terrors for him. When, therefore,
the restoration shall have taken place, and man shall have
been reinstated in his original condition, the old inter-
course will be resumed. The same direct vision, the same
social converse, the same condescending manifestation, will
be granted and enjoyed. "1 heard a great voice out of
heaven, saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men,
and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people,
and God himself shall be with them, and be their God."
In concluding the examination of this passage of Scrip-
ture up to this point — for other important points still
80 THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD.
remain to be considered — we remark, that it is the duty
of the Christian to live in hojpe of the full vision of God
in_ heaven. The apostle Paul, after saying that " the
whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together "
— in other words, that there seems to be, even in the
material world, a craving expectation of something higher
and better — adds, that even those "who have the first
fruits of the Spirit groan within themselves, waiting
for the adoption, that is to say, the redemption of the
body" from death and corruption. And everywhere in
his Epistles, he represents the true believer as living in
hope. " We are saved by hope," he says, " but hope that
is seen is not hope ; for what a man seeth, why doth he
yet hope for ? "
This hope extends, of course, to everything compre-
hended in the Christian life and experience. It is a hope
that temptation will one day wholly cease ; that trials and
sorrows will all disappear ; that sin will be entirely cleansed
from t,.ii£ soul, and that perfect peace and joy w'll be its
portion. But our subject directs our thoughts to a single
particular — to the hope, namely, that we shall one day be-
hold God face to face. That good and gracious Being
whom we have never seen ; whose very existence we have
held to by an act of pure faith without sight ; who has
never spoken a word to us that was audible by the out-
ward ear ; who has never given us any visible sign or evi-
dence of his existence — that Being to whom we have com-
mitted our eternal interests, and our eternal destiny,
without having either seen his shape or heard his voice ;
to whom we have lifted up our hearts in the hour of afflic-
tion, and in the watches of the night, while yet no visible
ray has emanated from his throne and his presence ; to
whom in his temple, and in our own closets, we have
endeavored to render a reverential homage and service,
THE FUTURE VISION OF GOD. 81
though we have had no visible object to bow down be-
fore— that invisible, inaudible, intangible, and utterly un-
searchable Spirit, we shall one day behold face to face.. It
is not the intention or the desire of our God to keep his
children forever at this remote distance from him. He
cannot wisely make such miraculous manifestations of him-
self to his Church in every age, as he has made to them in
some ages ; and he cannot appear in celestial glory here
in these fogs and vapors of earth. A' perpetual miracle
would defeat its own end. The rejecters of the truth con-
nected with the miracle would soon become accustomed to
it, as they did under the miraculous dispensation ; " for
though Christ had done so many miracles before them, yet
they believed not on him " (John xii. 37). And even the
partially-sanctified people of God themselves would receive
a fainter and fainter impression from it. The celestial
manifestation of God is therefore in reserve, and we must
hope and wait for it. Let us, therefore, as Moses did,
"endure as seeing him who is invisible." For we shall
not be called to endure forever. There is a time coming
when faith shall be turned into sight ; when that star
whose beams have never yet fallen upon our vision, but
which has all the while been shining in its glory, shall
break through the dusky air, and we shall see it, and re-
joice in its everlasting radiance and gleam.
" Then ' Glory to the Father, to the Son,
And to the Holy Spirit,' rings aloud
Throughout all Paradise ; that with the song
The spirit reels, so passing sweet the strain.
And what it sees is equal ecstasy :
One universal smile it seems of all things ;
Joy past compare ; gladness unutterable ;
Imperishable life of peace and love ;
Exhaustless riches, and unmeasured bliss." '
•Dante: Paradise, XXVII. 1-9.
SERMON VI.
GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN.
Psalm Ixxxiv. 5. — " Blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee.
Power and enjoyment are reciprocally related to each
other. " To be weak is to be miserable," said Satan to
Beelzebub, as they lay weltering in the floods of tempes-
tuous fire, after their expulsion from heaven ; and it is a
truth, though falling from satanic lips. He who is filled
with a sense of weakness and danger is unhappy ; but he
who is conscious of inward power and security is blest. It
is a universal fact that the enjoyment of any being is pro-
portioned to his strength, and partakes of the nature of it.
If his is an inferior and uncertain strength, his is an in-
ferior and uncertain happiness. If his confidence is in
liis health and his wealth, then his enjoyment is of an
earthly nature, and will endure only while he lives upon
earth. If his is a superior and permanent strength, his is
a superior and permanent enjoyment. If the strength of a
man is the eternal God, and the immutable truth that is
settled in heaven ; if it is in spiritual and heavenly objects ;
then his happiness is heavenly, and will endure forever.
The Divine Word, however, throws all these lower
species out of the account, and calls no man strong unless
his strength is in God ; no creature happy unless he re-
GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 83
poses unwaveringly upon his Father in heaven. And this
judgment of the Word of God is true altogether. For
ought that pleasure to be denominated by so expressive a
term as blessedness, which depends upon the fragile objects
of sense and time, and which ceases altogether when the
soul passes into another world ? Does that man know any-
thing of true mental peace and satisfaction who merely
buys and sells and gets gain ? Has he anything of heaven
in his experience who makes himself his own end and his
own strength, and finds in the hour of real trial — of af-
fliction and of death, when flesh and heart fail — that God
is not the strength of his heart and his portion forever ?
The Bible does not look upon man and his happiness with
man's weak eye. It takes its stand in the skies, far above
the little theatre of this existence, and looks with the all-
surveying glance of God. It contemplates man as an im-
mortal creature who must live forever ; who needs com-
munion with God, and love to him and from him, and
trust in him, in order that the long eternity of his existence
may have something to repose upon, and not be an un-
supported aching void in which there is not a moment of
genuine happiness, not a single element of peace. Con-
sequently in giving an opinion and estimate, the Scriptures
pay little attention to this short life of threescore years
and ten. They measure by eternity. Man may deem
himself happy if he can obtain what this life oft'ers, but
the Bible calls him miserable — nay, calls him a fool — be-
cause the time is very near when this whole earthly life
itself will terminate. Man calls himself happy if he can
grasp and cling to the objects of this world ; but the Word
of God asserts that he is really wretched, because this
world will soon be melted with fervent heat. Man flatters
himself that all is well with him while he gratifies the
flesh, and feeds the appetites of his corrupt nature ; but
84 GOD THE STEENGTH OF MAN.
God asserts in thunder-tones that all is ill with him, be-
cause his spirit is not fed with the bread that cometh down
from heaven. God is on the throne, and looks down upon
all the dwellers upon the face of the earth, and from his
calm seat sees all their hurried, busy, and little movements
— like those of ants upon the ant-hill — and he knows, and
in his Word affirms, that however much they may seem to
enjoy in their low sphere, and in their grovelling pursuits,
they are nevertheless possessed of nothing like solid good
in any degree, unless they look up to him from amidst the
stir and dimness of earth, for a participation in the holi-
ness and happiness of their Creator. He knows and
affirms, that no man whose strength is not in Him, whose
supports and portion are merely temporal and earthly, is
blessed.
Man is a creature of time, and sustains relations in it.
He is also a creature made for eternity, and sustains cor-
responding relations. Let us then look at him in these
two different worlds, that we see how he is blessed in them
both if his strength is in God ; and how he is unblest in
them botli if his strength is not in God.
I. In the first place, man is in time, and in an earthly
and transient state of being ; how will he be unblest in
this life if his strength is not in God, and how will he be
blest in this life if his strength is in God ?
If man is ever to be happy without God, it must be in
some such world as this. It must be in a material world,
where it is possible to banish the thought of God and of re-
sponsibility, and find occupation and a species of enjoyment
in other beings and objects. If a creature desires to be happy
away from God, and in opposition to his commandment, he
must accomplish it before he goes into a spiritual world ;
he must effect it amidst these visible and temporal scenes.
This is his only opportunity. No sinful creature can be
GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 85
happy for a moment in the life to come. He must there-
fore obtain before he dies all the enjoyment he will ever
obtain. Like Dives, he must receive all his " good things "
here. If man can ever dispense with the help and favor
of God, and not feel his need of him, it must be w^hen he
is fully absorbed in the cares and interests of this life, and
when he can centre his affections on father and mother, on
houses and lands. Standing within this sphere, he can, if
ever, be without God and not be miserable. For he can
busy his thoughts, and exert his faculties, and send forth
his affections, and thus find occupation away from his
Creator. And hence it is, that there is so much of sinful
pleasure in this life, while there is none of it in the next.
In this material world a man can make himself his own
end of living, and not be constantly wretched. But in the
spiritual world where God and duty must be the principal
subjects of reflection, no man can be supremely selfish
without being supremely miserable. Take therefore your
sinful enjoyment in this life — ye who hanker after this
kind of pleasure — for it is impossible to find any of it in
the next life. "Rejoice, O young man, in the days of thy
youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy
youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight
of thine eyes : but know thou that for all these things God
will bring thee into judgment.''
Still, even this life, with all its sinful enjoyment, is not
a blessed life for a worldly man. There is a heaven-wide
difference between earthly pleasure and blessedness. The
worldling sees dark days and sad hours, when he is
compelled to say, even in the midst of all that this life
gives him : " I am not a blessed being ; I am not peaceful
and free from apprehension ; I am not right with God.
And I know that I never shall be, in this line of life.
Heaven is impossible for me, until I love God more than I
86 GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN.
love myself and the world." All serious reflection tends
to destroy the happiness of such a man. He cannot com-
mune an instant with his own heart, without beginning to
feel wretched. Thinking makes him miserable. He has
fastened his affections, which can really find no rest but in
an infinite good, upon gold, honor, and pleasure. But he
knows in his reflecting moments that liis gold will perish,
and if it did not, that he must ultimately grow weary of
it. He knows that worldly honor and sensual enjoyment
will flee away from his dying bed ; and that even if they
did not, they could be no solace to him in that awful crisis
of the soul. He knows in these honest and truthful hours
that the chief good is not his, because he has not made
God his strength and portion. And although, because of
his alienation from God and servile fear of him, and his
dislike of the warfare with selfishness and sin which the
gospel requires, he may rush away even fuither than ever
from God, and cling with yet more intensity to the objects
of this life, he is nevertheless attended with an obscure
feeling that all is not well with his soul. That old and
solemn question : " Is it well with thy soul ? " every now
and then peals through him, and makes him anxious. But
what kind of pleasure is that which can thus be inter-
rupted ? How can you call a being blessed who is standing
upon such a slippery place ? A man needs to feel not only
happy, but safety happy — happy upon solid and immov-
able grounds — in order to be truly happy. Probably
Dives himself sometimes had a dim intimation of the
misery that was to burst upon him when he should stand
before God. Probably every worldly man hears these
words said to him occasionally from the chambers of his
conscience : " You are comparatively at ease now-, but this
ease cannot be permanent. You know, or may know, that
you will have no source of peace in death and the judg-
GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 87
ment. Your portion is not in God, and therefore you
cannot rest upon liim when flesh and heart faih"
But there are other objects in this world in which man
endeavors to find strength and happiness, besides gold and
lionor and sensual pleasure. He seeks it in the delights
of home, and in the charities and sympathies of social life.
And we grant that the enjoyment which these bestow
upon him is great. But it is not the greatest, and it is not
eternal. Christ has said: "He that loveth father and
mother, son or daughter, more than me, is not worthy of
me, and cannot be my disciple." This affirmation of our
Saviour has its ground in the nature of the human spirit,
and its relation to God. However much we may love our
kindred and friends, they cannot take the place of God ;
they cannot be an object of supreme affection. However
much, in our idolatrous fondness, we may try to make them
our hope and portion, we shall discover sooner or later
that they cannot meet the higher and eternal demands of
our complex being — that they cannot satisfy that immortal
part which God intended should find its strength and
blessedness in him alone. There are capabilities of wor-
ship and adoration and heavenly service given us by crea-
tion, and they ought to be awakened, renovated, set in
action, and met by their appropriate object — God only
wise, God over all blessed forever. Conscience, moreover,
the law of our moral existence, is solemn in its command :
" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and
all thy might." It forbids us to live solely and absorbingly
in the lower sphere of social relations, and bids us to soar
above and expend our choicest affection upon the Father
of spirits — the Infinite One whose we are, and whom we
are bound to serve. The original constitution of our souls
interferes with the attempt to be happy in the social and
domestic circles without God ; and although conscience
88 GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN.
cannot conquer our folly and our sin, it can and does
disquiet and harass our minds.
But even if man could be perfectly happy in the strength
and solace springing from his domestic and social relations,
he would be so but for a short time. The enjoyment com-
ing from them is continually fluctuating. The lapse of
years produces great modifications of the family, even here
upon earth. The child grows up to manhood, and the
parent passes into old age. The child becomes a parent
himself, and is engrossed in new relations and cares;
while the parent dies more and more to earthly ties, and
when his spirit returns to God who gave it he is done with
earth and all its interests. In the kingdom of God they
neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the
angels of God. These temporal earthly relationships of
father and son, wife and child, cannot, therefore, be relied
upon as the everlasting foundation of trust and joy. They
are merely preparatory to the higher relationships which
we must sustain in a future life, or be miserable.
Furthermore, even in this life they are continually break-
ing up. Death comes. Friend after friend is continually
departing, and the grief at the loss is as poignant as the joy
in the possession. The happiness that is dependent upon
even a true and tried friend is transient and uncertain. It
lasts not long, for the grave removes him from our eyes,
and we are left to mourn. The world that was bright
because he was in it, has grown dark because he has left
it. We turn away in brokenness of heart, and feel in
these sad moments, if at no other time, that we need a
more abiding Friend ; that we need that friendship of God
by which earthly friendships are consecrated and ennobled ;
that we need him for the strength of our heart when he
putteth lover and friend far from us. And as we leave
the lesser circle of kindred and friends, and look forth into
GOD THE STRENGTH OP MAN. 89
that of society around us, we find that there is continual
change. If our happiness is entirely dependent upon the
world around us, and we have made its interests and pur-
suits our main support, we discover that the world itself
lias no permanency. One generation goes and another
comes. Where is the generation that crowded these streets,
transacting business and absorbed in earthly pursuits, fifty
years ago ? All that whirl is hushed in death ; and fifty
years hence, the same inquiry will be put respecting the
noise and bustle that now roars and chokes in these ave-
nues of business and pleasure. Man and man's life is the
shadow of a shadow. Everything in him and about him
is in a perpetual flux toward eternity, and the immediate
presence of God. He cannot, if he would, stop the course
of that upon which he has made his happiness to depend,
but is hurried along into a mode of existence where there is
no change, and but one engrossing Object, even God himself.
Can strength, peaceful strength, be predicated of us, then,
if we have no standing-place but that which is every in-
stant gliding like quicksand from under our feet ? Can
true happiness be afiirmed of our souls, if their supreme
good is in that which is leaving us every day, and which
we shall leave entirely behind us when we die ?
We have thus seen that it cannot be said : " Blessed is
the man whose strength is in wealth, or in reputation, or
in pleasure, or in kindred and friends, or in the inter-
ests and pursuits of social and civil life." That it can be
said of man even in this transient and sorrowful life,
and amidst these unsatisfying and fleeting relationships :
" Blessed is the man whose strength is in God," needs but
little proof. " Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose
soul is stayed on Thee," is the aflSrmation of one who
knew by his own personal experience. " Great peace have
all they that love thy law," says one who tried it for him-
90 GOD THE STEENGTH OF MAN.
self. He whose supreme strength is in God will be
happy in any relation that he sustains, and in any world
in which God may please to put him. He who is strong
in the Lord, and has him for his portion, cannot be made
miserable. If he should be seai, on an errand to the spirits
in hell, he would go fearlessly, arici^here would be nothing
in that world of woe that could disturb his holy and af-
fectionate trust in God. A man whose heart is fixed,
trusting in the Lord, is absolutely independent of the whole
creation. His wealth may take wings and fly away ; but
the cheering presence of his Maker and Saviour is in his
heart still. Worldly good he may, or may not have ; but
the approbation of God destroys all regard for it, and all
sense for it, even as the sunlight by its bright effulgence
annihilates moonlight and starlight. He may be very
happy in his domestic and social relations ; but this happi-
ness will have its deeper foundation and source in God.
It will not be a forbidden enjoyment that never goes be-
yond the earthly objects of his affection, and centres solely
and supremely in the wife or the child. As a father or a
son, as a neighbor or a citizen, he will look up to his
Heavenly Father — to his Father in Christ, " of whom the
whole family on earth and heaven is named " — as the
blessed ground of all these relationships, and in whose
glory they should all be merged. Therefore, amidst all
change which is incident to them, lie will be unmoved,
because God is immutable ; he will be strong as they reveal
their weakness and perishing nature, because his primal
strength is in God ; and he will be blessed as the sources
of his earthl}^ enjoyment fail, because God is his chief
good.
It is because man's hope and strength are not in God,
that his enjoyment of created good is so unsatisfactory and
uncertain. " Godliness hath the promise of the life that
GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 91
now is, as well as that which is to come ; " and if all men
were godly, the earth would be fairer around them, and
more full of promise and of hope. The elder Edwards
thus describes the change which came over the visible
material world after his coj^ersion, and as his sense of
divine things increase(i,^^The appearance of everything
was altered ; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm sweet
cast, or appearance of divine glory in almost everything.
God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed
to appear in everything ; in the sun, and moon, and stars ;
in the clouds and blue sky ; in the grass, flowers, trees ;
in the water, and all nature ; Avhich used greatly to fix my
mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for continu-
ance ; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the
clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these
things ; in the meantime singing forth with low voice, my
contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer. And scarce
anything among all the works of nature was so sweet to
me as thunder and lightning ; formerly nothing had been
so terrible to me. Before, I used to be uncommonly terri-
fied with thunder, and to be struck with terror when I saw
a thunder-storm rising ; but now, on the contrary, it re-
joiced me. I felt God, so to speak, at the first appearance
of a thunder-storm; and used to take the opportunity, at
such times, to fix myself in order to view the clouds, and
see the lightning play, and hear the majestic and awful
voice of God's thunder, which oftentimes was exceedingly
entertaining, leading me to sweet contemplations of my
great and glorious God." '
If the supreme and positive love of God pervaded and
gave color to our love of his creatures, the creation would
be a source of more heartfelt pleasure than it now is. We
' Life of Edwards. Works, I. p. 20.
92 GOD THE STEENGTH OF MAN.
should then cherish a subordinate and proper affection
for earth, and while it brought us the enjoyment that per-
tains to the lower sphere of the created and the finite, it
would be still more valuable as the means of introducing our
souls into the presence and enjoyment of God. Worldly
pleasure if experienced too keenly and too long renders
the heart intensely selfish. Beware of long-continued and
uninterrupted earthly happiness. There is no heart so cal-
lous, so flinty, so utterly impenetrable to holy impressions,
as that of a man of pleasure. Said Burns, who knew :
" I waive the quantum of the sin,
The hazard of concealing ;
But 0, it hardens all within,
And petrifies the feeling."
Merely earthly enjoyment, moreover, sates and disgusts
the rational mind of man. For this, notwithstanding its
apostasy, has at times a dim intimation that there is, some-
where and somehow, a higher enjoyment and a genuine
joy that never cloys, but which, as it runs through the fibres
of the soul, carries with it an invigorating and appetizing
virtue that produces a hunger and thirst after still more
enrapturing influxes. Man enters with too much hilarity,
and too absorbing a passion, into the enjoyment of this
life, unless he is tempered and tranquillized by a superior
affection for an Infinite Being. If without strength and
hope in God as his ultimate and highest good, he is often
filled with a happiness that is too tumultuous and stormy to
be enduring. A storm cannot continue long, either in the
world of matter or of mind. Hence, in these hours of
excited fermenting revelry, there is often a faint intimation
given to the soul, like the premonitory tremor before the
earthquake, that its enjoyment is short-lived. The deeper
part of the man, the solemn conscience, sends off tidings
that it has no participation in this pleasure ; that, on the
GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 93
contrary, moral indignation and moral fear are the emo-
tions down below, whatever may be the hilarity on the
surface. But if, while that part of our nature which was
made to take pleasure in temporal things is experiencing
it, that other portion of our nature whose appropriate ob-
ject is God is also having its wants met in Him, there is
a tranquil and rational enjoyment diffused through the
whole man. If the celestial world sends down its radiance
into the terrestrial, there is everywhere a serene and pleas-
ant light. Writers upon physical geography tell us that
the presence of a mountain renders the atmosphere cooler
in summer, and warmer in winter. A large mass of matter
equalizes the temperature. In like manner, if in the
horizon and atmosphere of our souls there is the presence
of the Infinite God, there will be serenity, and no violent
changes. In the summer of prosperity, the soul will be
soberly joyful ; in the winter of adversity, the soul will be
serenely content. For the presence of the Eternal will be
the main element of happiness in each instance ; and He
is always present and always the same. Though, therefore,
in the lower region of earthly objects and relations there
be darkness, and storm, and tempest, in the higher region
of spiritual objects and heavenly affections there is a still
air, and the light of the heaven of heavens is shining in
its strong effulgence. And even when the clouds gather
thick and black in the horizon of our mortal life, and there
is mourning because its objects are passing away, this lucid
light of heaven will steal into the black mass, and drive
out the blackness, and drench these clouds with its radiance,
and suffuse all along the horizon with the colors of the
skies.
II. We have thus considered man as belonging to time,
and found that he is miserable if his strength and hope
are in the creature, and that he is blessed if his strength
94 GOD THE STRENGTH OP MAN.
and hope are in God. Let lis now, in the second place,
contemplate man as belonging to eternity and sustaining
relations to the invisible world, and see that the same
assertion holds true, and commends itself with a yet
deeper emphasis to our reflections.
Although the hour of death is, strictly speaking, a part
of time, yet it is so closely joined to eternity that it may
practically be considered as belonging to it. Observation
proves that there are few conversions at the eleventh hour ;
and we may assume, as a general fact, that as a man is
when lying upon his death-bed, so will he be forever and
ever. For although it is possible, even at this late hour, to
have the relation of the soul towards God changed from
that of the rebel to that of the child, the possibility rarely
becomes a reality. In that solemn hour, even if there be not
the stupor of disease, but the soul is stung with remorse,
and the awful idea of eternity throws a horror of great
darkness over the whole inner man, it is extremely difficult
to collect the mental powers, and with a clear eye look at
sin, and with a sincere heart repent of it, and with an
energetic faith trust in Christ's blood. If the man has
gone through life, in spite of all the obstacles which a
merciful God throws in his path to perdition, and in op-
position to the repeated monitions of conscience and con-
victions by the Holy Spirit, without experiencing that
change which alone fits him for an entrance into the king-
dom of God, there is small hope that this great change
will be wrought amidst the weakness and languor of
disease, or the perturbation and despair of the drowzed
soul which has only half awaked to know its real condi-
tion and tlie brink where it stands. "We may therefore
affirm, generally, that as a man is when overtaken by his
last sickness, so will he. be forevermore. We may there-
fore affirm, that practically the hour of death is for man
GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN. 95
a part of the eternal state. Time and eternity here blend
in the experience and destiny of the soul.
How un blest, then, is a man, if in this last hour of
time which is also the first hour of eternity, his strength
is not in God. How wretched is he, if in these first
moments of his final state, the farm, or the merchandise,
or the book, or the father, or the child, or the wife, or the
pleasures of social life, or the interests of civil life, are his
only portion and support. He has enjoyed, it may be,
much that springs from these temporal relations, and life
in the main has gone well with him. Yet, as from the
vantage-ground of this death-bed he looks back upon life,
he sees as he could not while amidst its excitement and
fascination, that after all it has been a " fitful fever," and
that he is not to " sleep well " after it. He perceives with
a vividness and certainty that he never felt before, that
he has been a sinful man because in relation to God he
has been a supremely selfish and idolatrous man. And
now he feels that he is a lost man, because his strength is
not in God, in the slightest degree. * He finds that he has
no filial love for his Maker. In the Scripture phrase, he
is " alienated " from God, and " without " God, both in
this world and in the next. He finds that the account be-
tween himself and his Maker is closed, and that God is
entering into judgment with him, and bidding him look
for his portion and his strength where he has sought it all
the days of his sinful life. He hears those solemn and
righteous words which are addressed only to those who
have despised and rejected the offer of mercy : " Because
I have called and ye refused ; I have stretched out my hand,
and no man regarded ; but ye have set at nought all my
counsel, and would none of my reproof ; I also will laugh
at your calamity ; I will mock when your fear cometh.
Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer ; they
96 GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN.
8hall seek me early, but they shall not find me." * O my
fellow man, if in your dying hour you cannot look up to
God, and say : " Thou art the strength of my heart, and
my portion forever," you are an unblest creature, and there
is nothing but misery for you in eternity. Your spirit
when it leaves the body will begin an everlasting wander-
ing away from God. It will want to wander, and hide
from his sight. It does not love him here and now, and
therefore cannot abide his presence there and then. How
full of wretchedness must such a spirit be when it enters
the other world, where there is but one Object for any
creature to lean upon, and yet that Object in relation to it
is one of dislike, distaste, antipathy, and hostility. It
must, therefore, turn in upon its own emptiness and guilt,
because it has not made Christ its refuge, and God its
strength.
The impenitent death-bed is a dark scene, and the im-
penitent eternity is the blackness of darkness. Let us turn
from it to the believer's death-bed, which is a bright scene,
and to the believer's eternity which is light inacessible and
full of glory. When the soul V^iich has really made God
its strength is summoned to leave the body, and enter into
the endless life, it is strong — stronger than ever; and
happy — happier than ever. It is strong ; for it does not
rest upon anything that perishes, and tlie everlasting arms
are beneath. Though the fainting flesh and heart fail, yet
God is the strength of the heart. The soul knows that it
is departing from the objects amidst which it has liad its
existence, but not from the one great Being in whom it
has lived somewhat holily and tranquilly on earth, and
will now continue to live forever. Earthly relationships
are disappearing, and earthly bands are breaking away from
• Compare, also, Ps. lii. 7.
GOD THE STEENGTH OF MAN. 97
it, but the relationship of a child of God will ever belong
to it, and the hopes and aspirations of this relation which
it has been feebly but faithfully cherishing in an imperfect
state are to gather force and intensity forever. Such a soul
does not feel that its strength is waning, but that it is wax-
ing stronger and mightier ; and so with tranquillity, per-
haps with triumph — " a mortal paleness on the brow, a
glory in the soul " — it goes into the presence of God. As
in the hour of death, we have seen that the kindling
flashes of hell appear in the soul of the unpardoned, so the
first streaks and rays of celestial glory stream through the
penitent soul while it is leaving the body. It has a keener
sense of holy enjoyment, calmer peace pervades it, and the
endless heaven is begun. It feels, in the phrase of Leigh-
ton, that "the Eternal is now the internal," that the
glorious God is its strength and portion, and that the in-
finite heart of God is its home. It has discovered " the
beauty and excellency of foi'giveness — as it is with God,
as it is in his gracious heart, in his eternal purpose, in the
blood of Christ, and in the promise of the gospel." It has
no fear, and no wants unsupplied. With calmness, or witli
rapture, it commends itself into the hands of its God and
Redeemer, and " flights of angels sing it to its rest " in the
bosom of the Father.
To Christian believers, this subject is full of salutary in-
struction. If God really is our strength, we should not
look with fear and anxiety into eternity, and we should
not be unhappy here in time. It urges us, therefore, to a
careful examination that we may know where our strength
actually lies. And we need not seek long for this knowl-
edge. The current of our thoughts and afFections, if God
is our portion, will become daily a stronger flood. We
shall live as strauigors and pilgrims, looking for a better
country. Our b.Q^rts will not rest in houses, or lands, or
5.
98 GOD THE STRENGTH OF MAN.
honor, or friends, as their firmest resting-place, but in the
living God. AVe shall die daily to the power of earthly-
things, and live unto Christ. We shall be gradually
weaned from earth, and with more earnest desires look
for heaven. We shall enjoy this life with chastened and
sober pleasure, but our transport and exultation will be
awakened by the "power of an endless life," by the love
and glory of God.
SEKMON YII.
THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD.
Isaiah xlii. 8. — " I am the Lord; that is my name: and my glory
will I not give to another, neither my praise to graven images. "
The name of a thing, provided it is a true and adequate
one, denotes the essential nature of that thing. Wlien a
chemist has discovered a new substance, he is, of course,
compelled to invent a new name for it ; and he seeks a
term that will indicate its distinctive properties. When,
for instance, that gas which illuminates our streets and
dwellings was first discovered, it was supposed to be the
constituent matter of heat, and the name phlogiston was
given to it — a name that signifies inflammability. But
when Cavendish afterwards more carefully analyzed its
nature and properties, and discovered that it enters very
largely into the production of water, it received the name
of hydrogen. In each of these instances the term was in-
tended to denote the intrinsic nature and properties of the
tiling. We are informed, in the second chapter of Genesis,
that when the Lord God had formed every beast of the
field, and every fowl of the air, " He brought them unto
Adam to see what he would call them ; and whatsoever
Adam called every living creature, that was the name
thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the
fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field." This was
100 THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD.
before the apostasy of man, when the human mind pos-
sessed an intuition of both human and divine things that
was superior to its subsequent knowledge; and hence
those original denominations which Adam gave to the
objects of nature were expressive of their interior and es-
sential characteristics. Aristotle began the investigation
of natural history, and his successors, for two thousand
years, have diligently followed up the line of investigation ;
but that ethereal vision of the unf alien and sinless creature
who had just come from the plastic hand of the Creator,
and who possessed the unmutilated and perfect image of
the Deity, penetrated further into the arcana of nature than
have the toilsome investigations of his dim-eyed posterity.
That nomenclature which Adam originated at the express
command of God, and which the pen of inspiration has
recorded as a fact, though it has not specified it in detail,
must have been pertinent and exhaustive. The names
were the things, the natures, themselves.'
God also has a name — not given to him by Adam,
or any finite creature, but self-uttered, and self-imposed.
"When Moses, in Mount Horeb, after the vision of the
flaming bush, said unto God : "Behold, when I come unto
the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, the God
of your fathers hath sent me unto you ; and they shall say
unto me. What is his name ? what shall I say unto them ? "
the reply of God was : " I am that I am : and thus shalt
thou say unto the children of Israel, I am hath sent me
unto you." The denomination which God prefers for
himself, the name which he chooses before all others as
indicative of his nature, is I am, or its equivalent, Jehovah.
Whenever the word Jehovah is employed in the Old Tes-
' Plato (Cratylus, 390) represents Socrates as saying that ' ' the right
imposition of names is no easy matter, and belongs not to any and every-
body, but only to him who has an insight into the nature of things."
THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD. 101
tament as the proper name of God, it announces the same
doctrine of his necessary existence that was taught to Moses
when he was commanded to say to his people that I am had
sent him unto them. The English name for the Deity, our
word God, indicates that he is good — making prominent a
moral quality. The Greek and Latin world employed a
term (^eo<?, deus) that lays emphasis upon that characteristic
of the Deity whereby he orders and governs the universe.'
According to the Greek and Roman conception, God is
the imperial Being who arranges and rules. But the
Hebrew, divinely instructed upon this subject, chose a
term which refers not to any particular attribute or quality,
but to the very being and essence of God, and teaches the
world that God must be — that he not only exists, but can-
not logically be conceived of as non-existent.'
This idea comes up in the text. " I am Jehovah " — for
so it stands in the original Hebrew — " that is my name :
and my glory will 1 not give to another, neither my praise
to graven images." Here the Divine Being challenges
glory to himself upon the ground of his very nature and
being. He presents an exclusive claim to be supremely
honored, because of his independent, and underived, and
necessary existence. If, like creatures, he had once begun
to exist, or if, like creatures, he could be conceived of as
going out of existence, the foundation of such a claim
would fall away, and he would have no more reason to ar-
rogate supreme honor to himself than the angel Gabriel,
or than the weakest man upon earth. But before the
mountains were brought forth, or ever he had formed the
earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting,
* This etymology is given by Herodotus, II. 52.
' A being respecting whom there would be no absurdity in saying that
once he did not exist, or that he will cease to exist, is not infinite, but
finite. And the finite is not God.
102 THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD.
he is Jehovah — the I am — and therefore he of right sum-
mons the whole universe into his temple, and demands
from them the ascription of blessing, and glory, and wis-
dom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might,
forever and ever.
The text, then, leads ns to raise the question : What is
it to glorify God ? And the answer to it should certainly
have interest for us, not only upon those general grounds
which concern all men, but because we hold a creed which
opens with the affirmation, that it "is man's chief end to
glorify God, and enjoy him forever."
I. In the first place, it is implied in glorifying God, that
we think of him, and recognize his existence. " The duty
required in the first commandment," says the Larger Cat-
echism (104), " is to worship and glorify God, by thinking,
meditating upon, and remembering him."
!No higher dishonor can be done to any being, than to
forget and ignore him. In common life, if a man wishes
to express the highest degree of contempt for a fellow-
creature, he says : " I never think of him ; I do not recog-
nize his existence." But this is the habitual and common
attitude of man's mind toward the Everlasting God.
This Great Being who exists of necessity, and who is the
Creator and Preserver of all other beings, is ignored ' by
the world at large. God is not in their thoughts, and
practically he is reduced to nonentity. For so long as we
do not think of an object or a being, so long as we
do not recognize its existence, it possesses none for our
minds. Before Columbus discovered America, it could
' This word does not denote absolute ignorance, but the neglect to
use knowledge. "If there be any nations that worship not God, they
consist of brute and irrational barbarians who may be supposed rather to
igrwre the being of God, than to deny it." Boyle, quoted by Richard-
son in wee.
THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD. 103
not be an object of reflection for the people of Europe
and Asia, and therefore, in relation to the Old World,
America had no existence. It had existence for God, and
for higher intelligences. The sons of God knew of it, and
shouted for joy over it as a part of that glorious world
which rounded to their view upon the morning of creation.
But until the bold Genoese navigator revealed it to the
ken, to the thought, of Europe, it was a nonentity for
Europe. The whole continent, with its vast mountain-
ranges, and great rivers, and boundless plains, had scarcely
the substance of a dream for the people of the Eastern
world.
And just so is it in respect to the existence of God.
He verily is, and fills immensity with his presence ; but
how few of the children of men are constantly and habit-
ually aware of it. How few of them are busied with
thinking about him. How few of them make him real to
their minds by meditating upon his being and attributes.
Can you not recall some day in which you did not once
think of your Creator and Judge ; in which, therefore,
you wholly ignored his existence ; in which, to all intents
and purposes, he was a nonentity ? So far as you could
do it, you, on that day, annihilated the Deit3\ The
same spirit, if united with the adequate power, would not
only have dethroned God, but would have exterminated
him.
And it does not relieve the matter to say that this is
mere passive forgetfulness, and that there is no deliberate
effort to do dishonor to God. This passive forgetfulness
itself is the highest kind of indignity ; and is so repre-
sented in the Scriptures. " The wicked shall be turned
into hell, and all the nations that forget God. Now con-
sider this, ye that forget God, lest I tear you in pieces,
and there be none to deliver." This is fearful language,
104 THE GLOEIFICATION OF GOD.
and therefore the sin against which it is levelled must be
great. And when we come to examine it we perceive
that it is. For this unthinking forgetf ulness of the great-
est and most glorious Being in the universe betokens an
utter unconcern towards him. It implies an apathy so
deep, and so uniform, that the being and attributes of God
make no kind of impression. When a proud nobleman
passes by a peasant without bestowing a thought upon
him, without noticing his presence in the least, we do not
attribute this to any deliberate intention, any direct effort,
to put an indignity upon an inferior. It is the uncon-
scious dishonor, the passive forgetful n ess, the silent con-
tempt, which arises from an utter indifference and apathy
towards the person. And such is the kind of indignity of
which man is guilty in not thinking of God ; in forgetting
that there is any such being.
]^ow, whoever would glorify God must begin by rever-
sing all this. God must be in all his thoughts. He must
recognize, habitually and spontaneously, the existence of
his Creator and Judge. God must become as real to him
as the sun in the heavens. The idea of the Deity must
swallow up all other ideas, and dominate over them.
"Wherever he goes, the thought must be ever present
to his mind : " Thou God seest me." Instead of this
spontaneous forgetfulness, there must be a spontaneous
remembrance of him. God must constantly impress
himself upon the mind. Some of the early Christian
fathers were fond of speaking of the Deity as " impinging "
himself upon the human soul — as if he were some great
body or mass that loomed up, and forced himself down
upon the attention and notice of men. And such must be
the relation between man and God, before God can be glori-
fied. The first step towards the greatest of human duties,
the first step towards the chief end of man, cannot be taken,
^ .y.v/-<^ THE GLOEIFICATION OF GOD. 105
until the creature begins to think habitually of God, and
to recognize his eternal power and godhead. Ko man
has made even a beginning in religion, until he has said,
reverently, and feeling the truth of what he says : " Thou
art Jehovah, the Great I am ; that is thy name and thy
nature ; and thy glory thou wilt not give to another,
neither thy praise to graven images."
II. In the second place, it is implied in glorifying God,
that we think of him as the Jirst cause and last end of all
things.
Here again, as in the preceding instance, we can arrive
at the truth by the way of contrast ; by considering what
is the common course of man's thought and feeling. Man
-naturally thinks of himself as the chief cause, and the
final end. The charge which the apostle Paul makes - ^^v'-
against the apostate world is, that they worship and serve 'S^-^^
j I the' creature more than the Creator. And the particular ^
creature which every sinful man worships and serves more ^^
than the Creator, is himself. It is true that men pay re- _,
gard to their fellow-men, and in a certain degree worship sX-^
and serve them. But in every such instance it will be ^;
found, upon examination, tliat the worship and the ser- ^ -^\.
vice is only a means to an end. It is never an end. A
man, for example, flatters, and perhaps even fawns upon
a fellow-creature who is high in station, or in power, or in
wealth. But it is only in order to derive some personal
advantage thereby. The worship and service do not ul-
timately terminate upon the king or the millionaire, but
upon the worshipper ; upon the devotee himself. It is
not for anything that intrinsically belongs to the man of
power, or the man of wealth, that the honor is accorded
to him. Could the same personal advantage be secured <J^
by showing dishonor, as by showing honor, the selfish sin-
ful heart of man would " whistle " both nobles and kings
5*
106 THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD.
" down the wind." The ultimate idol is in every in-
stance the important ego, the dear self.
It is snrprising to see, and no man sees it until he en-
deavors to get rid of the evil, how intensely the soul of
man revolves upon itself, and how difficult it is to desert
itself and revolve around another. You, for example,
give a sum of money to a poor and suffering family. The
external act — what the schoolman would denominate the
"matter" of the act — is good. And yonr fellow-men,
who can see only the outward appearance, praise you as an
excellent person. But let us look into the heart, and see
if there really be the moral excellence, the true holiness
before God, that is supposed. When the gift had been
bestowed, did you not begin to congratulate yourself upon
what you had done ? Did not the left hand begin to know
what the right hand had been doing ? In other words,
did not pride and self -worship begin to fill the heart, and
was not the act, so far as the iliward nature of it — what
the same schoolman would call the " form " of it — is con-
cerned, an egotistical one ? Did you not worship and
serve the creature more than the Creator, in this act —
which yet was one of the best that you ever performed ?
Was there not a " sin " in this " holy thing ? " Did not
the " dead fly " spoil the " apothecaries' ointment ? " For
if the inward disposition had corresponded entirely to the
outward act, in this transaction ; if the act were a really
holy one ; it would have been done to the glory of God,
and there would not have been a particle of self- worship
in your experience. You would not have had the least
proud thought of self in the affair, but would have hum-
bly thought only of God. After giving the gift, you
would have said as David did in reference to the gift
which he and the people of Israel had made to God in
the building of the temple : " But who am I, and what is
THE GLOEIFICATION OF GOD. 107
my people, that we should be able to offer so -willingly,
after this sort ? for all things come of thee, and of thine
own have we given thee." You would have acknowledged
that it is God who gives both the willingness to give, and
the means of giving ; that He is both the first cause and
the last end of all things. But, by the supposition, you
did neither. You gave the sum of money as something
which your intellect and hands had originated, and you
took the merit of the gift to yourself. You worshipped
and served the creature more than the Creator,
This, we affirm, is the natural, spontaneous bent of the
human heart. The Christian confesses it, and mourns
over the relics of it in himself, and longs for the time
when his mixed experience shall end, and all these linger-
ing remnants of idolatry shall be cleansed away, and he
shall lose himself in the glory of God. And we are not
afraid to submit the matter to the testimony and judg-
ment of the natural man himself. 'No candid person will
say that he naturally and spontaneously worships and
serves his Creator more than he does the creature — more
than he does himself. No truthful man will deny that
his first thought is for himself, and his after-thought is
for his neighbor and his Maker. And it is the very spon-
taneousness and unconsciousness of the selfishness that
proves its depth and inveteracy. If a man were obliged
to summon up his reflections and resolutions, every time
that he worshipped and served the creature more than the
Creator ; if it were such a difficult matter for him to be
selfish and proud, that he must be continually thinking
about it, and contriving how he could compass it ; if it
cost him as much thought and eifort to glorify himself as
it does to glorify God, this would prove that the egotism
is not so deep-rooted and total. But what a man is spon-
taneously and unconsciously, that he is in the very roots
108 THE GLOEIFICATION" OF GOD.
of his being; that he is intensely and entirely. This
very naturalness and uniformity with which every unre-
generate man makes himself his own centre, and termi-
nates everything there, proves that this disposition is not
on the surface, but is " the hidden man of the heart."
]^ow, whoever would glorify God must reverse all this.
In the first place, he must think of and recognize God as
the first cause of all things. If he possess a strong intel-
lect, or a cultivated taste, instead of attributing them to
his own diligence in self-discipline and self-cultivation, he
must trace them back to the Author of his intellectual
constitution, who not only gave him all his original en-
dowments, but has enabled him to be diligent in the use
and discipline of them. If he possess great wealth, instead
of saying in his heart : " My hand and brain have gotten
me this," he should acknowledge the Providence that has
favored his plans and enterprises, and without which his
enterprises, like those of many men around him, would
have gone awry, and utterly failed. In brief, whatever
be the earthly good which any one holds in his possession,
its ultimate origin and authorship must be carried back
to the First Cause of all things. Every man upon earth
should continually say to himself, in the language of St.
Paul, " What hast thou that thou didst not receive ? Now
if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory as if thou
hadst not received it ? "
And this, too, must become the natural and easy action
of the mind and heart, in order perfectly to glorify God.
It is a poor and lame service that we render to the Most
High, when we do it by an after-thought. If, for in-
stance, when I have performed some action, or made some
acquisition that is creditable, my first thought is a proud
one, and my first feeling is that of self-gratulation ; no
second thought, no after-feeling, that has reference to God
THE GLORIFICATIOlSr OF GOD. 109
can be a high and perfect homage. The very first thought,
the very first emotion, should have terminated upon Him ;
and only the second thought, the secondary feeling, should
have referred to myself — if, indeed, there should have been
any such reference at all. If man were as holy as he was
by creation ; if he stood in his original unf alien relation ;
the very firstlings of his mind and heart would be of-
fered to his Maker. But as matters now stand, his first
instinctive reference is always to his own power, and his
own agency. And even when, as in the instance of the
Christian, there is an endeavor to remedy the evil, to
correct the error ; when after the proud feeling of self
has arisen, the believer treads it down, and mourns over
it, and endeavors to acknowledge God as the first cause and
author ; how imperfect and unworthy is the homage that
is rendered. It is true that our merciful and condescend-
ing God does not spurn such a service away, but sprinkles
it with the blood of Christ, and accepts it as a sweet -
smelling savor in Him ; but this does not alter the fact
that this is not the absolute and perfect homage and honor
which is due from a creature. Suppose that the seraphim
and cherubim should be compelled to rectify their service ;
suppose that for an instant they should lose sight of the
transcending glory and excellence of the Creator, and
their regards should drop down and terminate upon them-
selves as the authors and causes of their own excellences
and endowments ; what a " coming short " of the glory of
God this would be ! 'No, it is the directness and imme-
diateness of the heavenly service that makes it a perfect
one. Kot even the thought of worshipping and serving
themselves enters into the mind of those pure and holy
spirits who live in the blaze, the unutterable light of God.
Again, it is implied in glorifying God, that we recognize
him as the last end of all things. Every being and thing
110 THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD.
must have a final end — a terminus. The mineral kingdom
is made for the vegetable kingdom ; the vegetable king-
dom is made for the animal kingdom ; the animal kingdom
is made for man ; and all of them together are made for God.
Go through all the ranges of creation, from the molecule
of matter to the seraphim, and if jou ask for the final
purpose of its creation, the reply is, the glory of the
Maker. And this is reasonable. For God is the greatest
and most important, if we may use the word in such a
connection, of all beings. That which justifies man in
putting the dumb animals to his own uses, is the fact that
he is a grander creature than they are. That which
makes the inanimate world subservient to the animate —
that which subsidizes the elements of earth, air, and water,
and makes them tributary to the nourishment and growth
of the beast and the bird — is the fact that the beast and
the bird are of a higher order of existence than earth, air,
and water. It was because man was the noblest, the most
important, of all the creatures that God placed upon this
planet, that he subordinated them all to him, and said to
him in the original patent by which he deeded the globe
to him : " Behold I have given you every herb bearing
seed ; have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the
fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth
upon the earth."
Now, this principle holds good of the relation between
the whole creation and its Creator. He is a higher and
greater being than the whole created universe. The mass
of his being, so to speak, outweighs all other masses. He
never has created, he never can create, anything equal to
himself in infinity and in glory. And therefore it is that
he is the final end, the cause of causes, the absolute ter-
minus where all the sweep and movement of creation must
come to a rest. It is an objection of the skeptic, that this
THE GLOEIFICATION OF GOD. Ill
perpetual assertion in the Scriptures that God is the chief
end of creation, and this perpetual demand that the crea-
ture glorif J him, is onlj a species of infinite egotism ; that
in making the whole unlimited universe subservient to him
and his purposes, the Deity is only exhibiting selfishness
upon an immense scale. But this objection overlooks the
fact that God is an infinitely greater and liigher Being
than any or all of his creatures ; and that from the very
nature of the case the less nmst be subordinated to the
greater. Is it egotism, when man employs in his service
his ox or his ass ? Is it selfishness, when the rose or the
lily takes up into its own fabric and tissue the inanimate
qualities of matter, and converts the dull and colorless ele-
ments of the clod into hues and odors, into beauty and
bloom ? There would be egotism in the procedure, if man
were of no higher grade of existence than the ox or the
ass. There would be selfishness, if the rose and the lily
were upon the same level with the inanimate elements of
matter. But the greater dignity in each instance justifies
the use and the subordination. And so it is, only in an
infinitely greater degree, in the case when the whole crea-
tion is subordinated and made to serve and glorify the
Creator. The distance between man and his ox, between
the lily and the particle of moisture which it imbibes, is
appreciable. It is not infinite. But the distance between
God and the highest of his archangels is beyond computa-
tion. He chargeth his angels with folly. And therefore
upon the principle that the less must serve the greater, the
lower must be subordinate to the higher, it is right and
rational that " every creature which is in heaven, and on
the earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea,
and all that are in them, should say, Blessing, and honor,
and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the
throne, and unto the Lamb, forever and ever."
112 THE GLOEIFICATION OF GOD.
All this a man is to think of and to acknowledge, if he
would glorify God. This must be his spontaneous habit
of mind, as natural and easy to him as his present selfish-
ness and pride, before he can mingle in that celestial com-
pany who stand on the sea of glass, and have the harps of
God, and sing the song saying, " Great and marvellous
are thy works. Lord God Almighty : just and true are thy
ways, thou King of Saints."
1. In the light of this doctrine, as thus far expounded,
we see, in the first place, the need of the regeneration of
the human soul. It is difficult to convince the natural
man of the necessity of such a radical change as the Biblical
theory of the new birth, and the constant reiterations of
the pulpit imply. Testing himself by the statutes of
common morality, he does not see the need of such an
entire revolution within him. But how stands the case,
in the light of the truth which we have been discussing ?
Is it true that every human creature ought to sustain such
an adoring attitude towards God as has been described ?
that he ought habitually to think of him, and acknowledge
him as the first cause and last end of all things, and honor
him as such ? Is it true that it is man's chief end to glorify
God, and that no man can be released from the obligation
to attain the chief end of his existence? If so, then is
there not absolute need of being " born of water and the
Spirit ? " Look into the existing character and disposition
and see how strongly and totally everything terminates
upon self ; how even religion is tinged with subtle and
selfish references, and how destitute the human heart is of
all spontaneous and outgushing desires to exalt and honor
the Creator ; and say if there is not perishing need of a
new heart and a right spirit. All spiritual excellence re-
solves itself, ultimately, into a desire to render unto God
the glory due unto his name — into a desire to worship.
THE GLOEIFICATION OF GOD. 113
Keligion is worship ; and no creature, be he man or angel,
who is destitute of a worshipping disposition, is religious.
Morality, or the practice of virtue, is only the shell of re-
ligion. Keligion itself, in its pure, simple nature, is adora-
tion— the revering praise of God. The shell is good and
needful in its own place ; but it can never be a substitute
for the living kernel and germ. It may protect it, and
shield it, and adorn it; but it can never take its place.
Try yourself, then, by this test ; search and see what is the
inclination and tendency of your heart in this particular,
and we will leave it for you to say whether the human
heart does or does not need the great change of the new
birth ; whether any man can see the kingdom of God
without it ; whether any man is fit to enter the upper tem-
ple with no outgushing homage, adoration, and worship in
his soul,
2. In the second place, we see in the light of this subject
why the individual Christian is irrvperfectly hlest of God.
His service is imperfect. There is much worship of self
in connection with his worship of God. How many of
our prayers are vitiated by unbelief; but unbelief is a
species of dishonor to God. It is a distrust of his power
and his promise. How many of our feelings, even our
religious feelings, are tinctured with selfishness; but just
so far as self enters, God is expelled. The Christian ex-
perience is a mixed one. It lacks the purity, and sim-
plicity, and godly sincerity which admit but one object,
and that is the Blessed God ; but one absorbing desire
and purpose, and that is to glorify him. It is impossible,
therefore, in this condition of the soul, that we should ex-
perience the perfection of religious joy. " I am Jehovah,"
saith God ; " that is my name, and my glory will I not
give to another." God will not share homage and honor
with any creature ; and therefore it is, that when he sees
114 THE GLOKIFICATION OF GOD.
one of his cliildren still lingering about self, like Lot's
wife about Sodom — still anxious about his own worldly
interests and his own worldly honor — he does not com-
municate the entire fulness of his blessing upon him. He
hides his countenance from him ; he keeps back many of
the joys of his salvation ; nay, he afflicts him and disci-
plines him, until he learns more thoroughly to make God
the sole strength and portion of his heart, and to give
unto him the glory due unto his name.
3. And thirdly, this subject discloses the reason of
languid vitality in the Church, and its slow growth in
numbers and influence. The Christian life is in low tone,
because the Church gives glory to another than God. We
do not say, and we do not believe, that the Church is des-
titute of a desire to acknowledge God as the first cause
and last end of all things, and to render him homage and
honor. The Church of the living God, with all its faults,
is " the pillar and ground of the truth," and is dear to
him as the apple of the eye. Nevertheless, every child of
God will confess that there is much ambition, and vain
glory, and creature-worship, mingled with the spiritualit3^
Grace is hindered and hampered by indwelling sin. The
plans and purposes of God's people are corrupted and
damaged by a mixture of the lust of the flesh, and the
lust of the eye, and the pride of life. In connection with
their dependence upon God, they depend somewhat upon
the arm of flesh. They rely in part upon theii- zeal, upon
their excellences real or reputed, upon their position in the
eyes of men. But God says unto his Church in every
age and place : "Not by might nor by power, but by my
Spirit," are believers to live and grow, and sinners to be
converted. " Neither he that planteth, nor he that water-
eth, is anything, but God that giveth the increase. The
wisdom of this world is foolishness with God ; therefore
THE GLORIFICATION OF GOD. 115
let no flesli glory in his sight." The particular point to
be noticed is, that this mixture of self-love and self-wor-
ship with the love of God, and the worship of God, must
be reduced down to a mininnun, before the Church will
see great manifestations of the Divine presence. In the
ordinary state of the Church, there is too mucli of it to ad-
mit of such a blessing. When the people of God become
uncommonly humble and self -abased ; when they feel
very profoundly that their covenant God is the Great I
AM, and that he will neither give his glory to another nor
share it with another, and that he alone will be exalted in
the earth ; then they lie low in the dust before Him, and
cry with Daniel : " O our God, hear the prayer of thy
servants, and their supplications, and cause thy face to
shine upon thy sanctuary that is desolate, for the Lord's
sake. O our God, incline thine ear and hear ; open thine
eyes and behold our desolations, and the city which is called
by thy name : for we do not present our supplications be-
fore thee for our righteousness, but for thy great mercies."
This is a prayer in which the creature retreats entirely,
and the Creator comes solely into view. Here is no self-
worship and vain glory ; but a pure outgushing recogni-
tion of God as Jehovah, the Being of whom, through
whom, and to whom, are all things. And hence the imme-
diateness of the answer which that prayer received. "For,"
says the prophet himself, " whiles I was speaking, and
praying, and confessing my sin and the sin of my people
Israel, and presenting my supplication before the Lord my
God for the holy mountain of my God ; yea, lohiles I was
speaking in prayer, even the man Gabriel, whom I had
seen in the vision at the beginning, being caused to fly
swiftly, touched me about the time of the evening obla-
tion."
SEKMON VIII.
THE DUTY OF REFERENCE TO THE DIVINE WILL.
James iv. 13-15. — "Go to now, ye that say, To-day, or to-morrow,
we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell
and get gain : Whereas, ye know not what shall be on the morrow :
For what is your life ? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little
time, and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say : If the Lord
will, we shall live, and do this, or that. "
The movements of linman society are like those of the
ocean ; cahn and storm, light and darkness, level surfaces
and mountain billows, succeed each other in swift and
sudden contrast. Human life like a wave of the sea is
driven of the wind and tossed. Men are constantly form-
ing new plans, beginning new enterprises, and entering
upon new and uncertain experiences. Hence it behooves
them reverently to acknowledge their relation to the
Almighty Being who inhabits eternity — their Maker, their
Sovereign Ruler, their Judge, and their God. From amid
the vicissitudes and uncertainties of this mortal life, it is
their duty and privilege to look up to Him " with whom
is no variableness or shadow of turning," that He may
be the strength of their heart in their frailty and im-
potence. As the years of time lapse one after another,
dying men should be reminded of the eternal years of
God, and of their own destination to another world and
an endless life. That we may be thus impressed, let us
REFEKENCE TO THE DIVINE WILL. 117
attend to some reflections suggested by the text, relative
to the duty of depeoidence ujpon God, and reference to Him,
in all the undertakings and experiences of life.
I. The first remark suggested by the words of St.
James is, that mankind naturally do not feel and acknowl-
edge their dependence upon their Maker. The language
of the natural heart is that which is rebuked by the Apostle :
" To-day, or to-morrow, I will go into such a city, and con-
tinue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain." God
is not spontaneously in the thoughts and plans of men, and
human enterprises have little reference to the sustaining
and controlling power of the Almighty. Schleiermacher
defined the essence of religion to be the sense of depend-
ence upon the Infinite Being. Tried by this test, multi-
tudes of men are destitute of religion.
We shall find this practical atheism, whether we scru-
tinize the narrow life of the individual, or the broader
life of the nation or the race. How rare it is to meet a
man imbued with the Old Testament spirit, saying, with
Moses, in the outset of every undertaking, " If thy pres-
ence go not with me, carry me not up hence." How few ,
possess the spirit of the patriarchs, who were bold as lions ^^^^^
provided that God led the way, but timid as lambs when
they could not see his footsteps. Many men rely upon
second causes, and never fall back upon the great First
Cause. They calculate upon a long life, because they in-
herit a good constitution ; they fear an early death, be-
cause their frame is slender ; they expect a successful issue
of their plans, because they are regarded by others as
shrewd and far-reaching men. In each of these instances,
the dependence is placed upon something this side of God.
The mind does not penetrate beyond all secondary causes
and agencies, and say, when " He taketh away our breath
we die," and " Except the Lrn'd build the house they labor
118 DUTY OF EEFEEENCE
in vain that build it : Except the Lou'd keep the city the
watchman waketh but in vain." How few are in the
habit of looking to God that they may be assisted and
guided. Many men live as if there were no presiding
mind in the universe ; as if all the actions of mankind,
and all the events of earth, were but the chance move-
ments of an endless series controlled by no overruling
power. If we should translate human conduct into words,
would it not say: "All things are moving on aimless
and without a guide ; I will cast myself upon the current
and trust to fortune for success. I am not a steward, and
there is no account to be given hereafter. I will follow
\\\<& inclination of my heart. Time is all and everything.
Earth is the sum and substance. Man is his own centre,
and ultimate end. I will look only to myself for resources
of action, and will depend upon my own right arm for the
accomplishment of my purposes. I will go into that great
and prosperous city, and continue there twenty years, and
buy, and sell, and get gain."
Though he might start back at the thought of deliber-
ately uttering such language as this, yet does not every
jprayerless man utter the substance of it in his daily and
hourly conduct? And there are millions of prayerless
men in the world. Actions are louder and deeper-voiced
than words, and does not a self-seeking, self-reliant, and
prayerless life continually say to Almighty God, "I have
no need of thee ? " As we look back over the past years
of our lives, do we not see that some of them have gone
into eternity with no proper sense of dependence upon our
Creator ? Have we not planned and executed, toiled and
studied, bought and sold, without any filial reference to
our Maker and our Maker's will ?
And what is true of the individual is true of mankind
at large. We are not an humble, submissive, and trustful
TO THE DIVINE WILL. 119
race of beings. Though created in the image of God,
and living, moving, and having being in him, mankind
have not acknowledged their relationship, and have not
looked up to the Infinite Euler of the universe for guid-
ance and support. There is no fact taught by the history
of the world more plain, and more sad to a right mind,
than this. The nations of the earth, when left to them-
selves and uninfluenced by the truth and Spirit of God,
have uniformly forgotten the Supreme Governor, and
national life, like that of the individual, has not been
marked by a humble confidence in Him before whom
" the nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted
as the small dust of the balance." Had this been an un-
fallen world, and had righteousness been its stability and
harmony, it would in all ages, with one heart and mind,
have acknowledged its enthe dependence upon the King
of kings. The universal human species, like the angelic
host, would have looked upwards with a reverential eye, and
sought the illumination that radiates from the Father of
lights, and the counsel of Him who cannot err, and the
strength of the Lord God Omnipotent. Such, however,
has not been the attitude which man has taken before his
Maker. He has founded and destroyed empires without
a single glance of his eye upwards ; he has enacted laws
and abrogated them without taking counsel of the Supreme
Law-Giver ; he has gone to battle without reference to the
will of the God of Battles, and has concluded peace with
no offering of thanks to the Prince of Peace.
The thoughtful and Christian reader is struck with the
atheism that pervades the secular history of man. Look,
for example, at those great ancient empires : the As-
sjanan, the Macedonian, and the Roman. These immense
bodies rose slowly, reached their culminating point, and
declined gradually below the horizon, without any refer-
120 DUTY OF EEFEEENCE
ence to the living and true God, so far as the aims and
purposes of their founders, and lieroes, and monarchs, were
concerned. It is true that God controlled thera, and em-
ployed them for his own wise purposes, and so he does
the vast masses of inanimate and unconscious matter that
crowd the material heavens. But what cared Ninus,
Romulus, and Alexander for that Being who sat upon the
circle of the earth while they M^ere prosecuting their
ambitious designs, and who has since judged them, these
thousands of years, according to the deeds done in the
body ? The conduct of Nebuchadnezzar is a specimen of
the conduct of the kings and kingdoms of the earth.
" The king walked in the palace of the kingdom of
Babylon, and spake and said. Is not this great Babylon
that I have built for the house of the kingdom, by the
might of my power, and for the honor of my majesty ? "
11. The second reflection suggested by the text is, that
the ignorance ?i,n^ frailty of man is a strong reason why
he should feel his dependence upon his Maker. " Ye
know not what shall be on the morrow : for what is your
life ? It is even a vapor that appeareth for a little time,
and then vanisheth away."
Man is a very ignorant being. Philosophers are dis-
puting whether the human mind can have a "positive"
knowledge of the Infinite as well as of the Finite. In
the discussion, a positive perception is sometimes con-
founded with an exhaustive and perfect one. It is as-
sumed that man's knowledge of the Finite is exhaustive
and perfect, and the conclusion follows that his knowledge
of the Infinite must be different. But man has no ex-
haustive and perfect understanding of any finite thing.
His knowledge in this direction, too, has limits as much as
in the other. The blade of grass which he picks up in his
fingers, and subjects to the microscope and chemical anal-
TO THE DIVINE WILL. 121
ysis, contains an ultimate mystery which he can no more
completely clear up, tlian he can the mystery of the Divine
eternity, or trinality. For the constitution of the small-
est atom of matter involves such baffling questions as,
What is matter ? and, How is it created from nothing ?
In reference, then, to a perfect comprehension that ex-
cludes all mystery, the Finite is as really beyond the
reach of the human mind as the Infinite. In relation to
both of them alike, we may concede a positive and valid
apprehension, but not an exhaustive and perfect one. In
respect to all beings and things alike, be they finite or be
they infinite, men must say, " "We see through a glass
darkly, and we know in part."
Again, man's knowledge is limited by time, as well as
by the nature of objects. His knowledge of the pres-
ent is imperfect, and he has no knowledge at all of the
future. The past and present are the only provinces
into which he can enter. The future is an inaccessible
region, and he can know nothing of it until the provi-
dence of God guides him slowly into its secret and dark
recesses. The morrow is separated from us by only a few
hours, and yet we cannot predict with absolute certainty
what the morrow will bring forth, any more than what
eternity will bring forth. If by knowledge we do not
mean mere probability, but absolute certainty, we are as
ignorant of what will be on the morrow, as we are of
what will be a million of years from now. Living in the
sphere of change and experience, we ai"e of necessity igno-
rant of all that time has not brought to our view. We
wait in order to know, and we live to learn.
But God is in eternity, and the terms past and future
do not apply to his existence. There is no succession
of events in his omniscient consciousness. All that has
been, is now, and ever shall be — the whole mass and
13
122 DUTY OF REFEKENCE
amount of all history, so to speak — is constantly before
his eye. Hence his omniscience is a fixed quantity. It
is a cognition that is the same yesterday, to-day, and for-
ever. It undergoes no increase, and no diminution.
There is no future that is to disclose any new thing to
him ; and there is no past out of Avhicli his memory can
bring anything forgotten by him. That part of our ex-
istence which we have not yet lived, is now as well known
to his mind, as what we are thinking and doing this very
moment.
It is not so with our knowledge. We have forgotten
much that we once knew. It is probable, that in some
instances more has been lost out of the memory than the
faculty contains at any one time. An excursive student
ranging from his youth over the whole field of knowledge,
yet having an unretentive memor}'', at the close of life
is not in conscious possession of one-half of the sum-total
of all his acquisitions. The past is thus very inadequately
known by us. The present glides by with so noiseless
and insensible a motion, and we are so unreflecting, that
we have but a partial knowledge of that. It is before
our very eyes ; yet seeing, we see not. And the future we
do not know at all. Verily, man is of yesterday, and
knows nothing.
Is not this ignorance of ours a strong reason why we
should rely upon the all-knowing God ? Though we know
nothing in an exhaustive and perfect manner ; though
mystery enwraps us like a cloud ; though the future is all
uncertain, and we cannot even conjecture what it has in
store for us ; yet we are not shut up to the unhappiness
that would result from such a sense of ignorance if unre-
lieved by other considerations. For a profound conscious-
ness of human ignorance, taken by itself, has a direct
tendency to render man desponding and despairing. This
TO THE DIVINE WILL. 123
is the cause of the misanthropy and atheism which too often
meet us in the world of letters. The enterprising and
self-confident thinker believed that he could speculate his
way through all the mystery, and attain a perfectly clear
understanding and mastery of the problems of human life.
Baffled and repulsed at a hundred points, he became the
subject of an awful reaction, and sank into the belief that
there is no such thing as truth, and no such being as God.
But there is no need of this. Trust in God's wisdom,
power, and goodness, cheers up the mind in these hours
when the immensity and complexity of the universe is
weighing upon it. Every man may say : " It is true that
I am a being of limited powers. The ultimate essence of
everything is beyond my ken, and I know not what will
be on the morrow. But I am the creature of the great
and wise God, and he graciously permits me to take hold
of his strength, and to ask for his wisdom. He is the
Father of lights, and giveth to all men liberally, and up-
braideth not." By thus resting upon God, amidst all the
ignorance and mutability of this existence, man derives to
himself some of the calm wisdom and immutability of the
Eternal One. If we were possessed of a simple and con-
stant trust in Jehovah, our little life would repose upon
his unchangeable existence, and would be embosomed in it.
And although it would still have its changes, its ignorance,
and its motion, yet these would occur in a region where
there is no change, and in which there is perfect security.
Our globe has its complex and swift motions, but the
serene and ancient heavens contain it and all its orbit. Go
where it may, it is still within a sphere of order and safety.
It can never get beyond the reign of law. That immensity
in which it moves is the dwelling-place of God, and " He
who stretcheth out the heavens like a curtain, who layeth
the beams of his chambers in the waters, and maketh the
124 DUTY OF REFEEENCE
clouds his chariots," will impart harmony and regularity
to all its movements. In like manner, if man would con-
sciously live, move, and have his being in God, he would be
filled with a glad and cheerful sense of security, firmness,
and power, amidst the violent and rapid changes incident
to this life, and the dark mystery that overhangs it. " He
that trnsteth in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, that can-
not be moved."
Again, the brevity and uncertainty of human life is
another strong reason why man should feel his dependence
upon God. " For what is your life ? It is even a vapor
that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."
To employ the language of the Psalmist : " Men are as a
sleep : in the morning they are like grass which groweth
up. In the morning it flourisheth and groweth up : in
the evening it is cut down and withereth." The longest
life here in time seems short, and there is no one, however
his years may have been lengthened out, who will not say
with the aged Jacob in the one hundred and thirtieth year
of his age, " Feio and evil have the days of the years of
my life been." Any length of life upon earth must appear
brief to beings who like man were made to live in eter-
nity. If our years were prolonged to the longevity of those
who lived before the flood, the same sense of their brevity
would possess us upon our death-beds, that will soon fill
our souls as we come individually to lie down and die.
Nothing but a fixed and unalterable existence can be free
from the sensation of shortness and transitoriness.
But not only does human life seein short : it is so in
reality. It has the transiency of the morning vapor,
which hangs upon the edge of the horizon for a few mo-
ments, and then is dissipated by the wind and the sun.
In thinking of human life, we are apt to think of the
whole life of the entire race of man. The millions that
' ' '' -^^v*,'/ 1.. ,J^
TO THE DIVINE WILL. 125
have walked the earth for six thousand years become a
single individual for us, and thus we are not so vividly
impressed with the transiency of man's existence as we
are when a friend or neighbor is struck down by our
side, or when we are ourselves summoned to die. Yet
every individual of the human family lived only his brief
hour, was occupied with only his few personal interests,
and then dropped a solitary unit into the abyss of eter-
nity. One after one, for six thousand years, men have
been living short lives, and the aggregate of them all is
not a second of time, when compared with that endless
dui-ation which is the residence and the fixed state of each.
" The whole time of the world's endurance," says Leigh-
ton, " is as but one instant or twinkling of an eye, betwixt , jt^
eternity before and eternity after." What then is man,-^^,,^
and what is man's life ? " He dwelleth in houses of clay ;
his foundation is in the dust ; he is crushed before the
moth ; he is destroyed from morning to evening; he per-
isheth for ever, without any regarding it."
III. The third remark suggested by the text is, that the
proper way for men to acknowledge their dependence upon
God is to refer to his will, in all their plans and under-
takings. " Ye ought to say : If the Lord will, we shall
live, and do this or that."
It is right and reasonable that the will of God should
prevail everywhere, and in all time. The will of some
being or other must be supreme and ultimate ; otherwise
the universe would be a theatre of contending factions.
The old doctrine of dualism has always been regarded as
uncommonly irrational, and never has had much currency.
That there should be two eternal wills in everlasting con-
flict has appeared so very absurd, that errorists have been
much more ready to adopt pantheism than dualism, and
to absorb all wills into one. The chief work consequently
126 DUTY OF EEFEEENCE
for a creature is, to subject his purposes to those of the
one Supreme Will. He must not for a moment suppose
that he is at liberty to proceed without any reference to
any one but himself. No such license as this is granted
to him. It may be wickedly taken, but it is not granted.
Man may have his own will only as it harmonizes with that
of God. An arbitrary choice is not conceded to any sub-
ject of the Divine government. By the law, he is shut to
one course, and one only. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy
God with all thy heart. I have set before you life and
death : choose lifeP That creature, therefore, be he angel
or man, who claims the right to do as he pleases ; to
choose either life or death ; to have his own way without
reference to the law and will of the Creator, sets up an
unlawful claim. It is like the claim w^hich a tyrant sets
up to arbitrary power. "He have arbitrary power ! "—said
Edmund Burke, in reference to "Warren Hastings — " my
lords, the East India company have not arbitrary power
to give him ; the king has not arbitrary power to give
him ; your lordships have not ; nor the commons ; nor
the whole legislature. We have no arbitrary power to
give, because arbitrary power is a thing which neither any
man can hold nor any man can give. No man can law-
fully govern himself according to his own w^ill. We are
all born in subjection to one great immutable pre-existent
law, prior to all our devices, and prior to all our contriv-
ances, parajnount to all our ideas, and all our sensations,
antecedent to our very existence, by which w^e are knit
and connected in the eternal frame of the universe, out of
which we cannot stir." Subjection ,to God's will is not
the destruction of man's voluntariness ; but if it were, he
would be obligated to come under it. For God's suprema-
cy is of more consequence than any attribute of a creature,
however noble and precious it may be in itself. " Let
TO THE DIVINE WILL. 127
God be true, and every man a liar ! " cries the apostle in
his inspired zeal for God. " Let God be supreme, though
all finite wills should be annihilated."
But there is no necessity that all men should be liars,
in order to save the veracitj'' of God ; and there is no
necessity that they should be forced to obedience, in order
to save his supremacy. Obedience is free agency. The
self -subjection of ourselves to the claims and plans of
God is one of the freest, most genial, most joyful acts
of which we are conscious. Most of our misery, nay, all of
it, arises from our asserting our own wills. The instant
we yield the point, and submit to our Maker, we are at
rest. And this is proof that we are free ; for wherever
there is any compulsion, there is dissatisfaction and rest-
lessness.
Man must, therefore, in his plans and purposes, refer
first of all to the Divine Will. His prayer, and the real
desire of his heart, must be : " Thy will be done on earth,
as it is in heaven." This is the way in which he best
shows his dependence upon his Maker. If he does not
take a step without consulting God, and would not for the
world form a purpose in opposition to Him, he is un-
questionably a submissive and reliant creature. He is also
a happy one. For God's will is the only firm ground to
stand upon. All events occur in conformity with it, and
whoever falls in with it is truly blessed. It is a remark
of Lord Bacon, that if man would rule over nature he
must first obey nature ; that if he would be benefited by
the great laws and forces of the material world, he must
live and work in conformity with these laws ; that if he
attempts to resist or force nature, he brings failure and
ruin upon himself. It is equally true, that if man would
obtain happiness and peace from the Divine Government,
he must conform to it. If he opposes and resists the will
128 EEFERENCE TO THE DIVHSTE WILL.
of God, he will in the end be ground to powder as it
moves on in its eternal, irresistible, and wise course.'
Let us, then, learn to say in all the circumstances of life :
"If the Lord will we shall live, and do this, or that." It
is a lesson slowly learned by proud and selfish man.
Oftentimes it must be beaten into him by repeated blows
from a severe yet kind Providence. If such blows fall
upon us, we must be dumb with silence because it is God
that does it, and because we need it for our soul's good.
But by a wise and thoughtful course, we may preclude
the necessity of such a severe process. If we start with
the doctrine that " no man liveth to himself, and no man
dieth to himself ; " if we fix it in our habits of thought
that we are creatures of God, and not sovereigns in our
own right ; if we work upon this theory of human life ;
we shall be likely to keep ourselves in such a docile and
dependent attitude that stern methods will not be needed.
But even if severe trials should come upon us, we shall be
the better prepared to bear them, and we shall find it
easier to kiss the rod, and say, " Thy will O God, and not
mine, be done."
' " The Christian mind hath still one eye to this, above the hand of
man and all inferior causes : it looks on the sovereign will of God, and
sweetly complies with that in all things. Neither is there anything
that doth more powerfully compose and quiet the mind than this. It
feels itself invincibly firm and content, when it hath attained this self-
resignation to the vM, of Ood : to agree to that in every thing. This is
the very thing wherein tranquillity of spirit lies. It is no riddle nor
hard to be understood, yet few attain it. And what is gained by our
reluctances and repinings, but pain to ourselves ? God doth what he
tcill, whether we consent or not ; our disagreeing doth not prevent his
purposes, but our own peace. If we will not be led, we are drawn. We
must suffer, if he will ; but if we will what he wills, even in suffering,
that makes it sweet and easy : when our mind goes along with his, and
we willingly move with the stream of his providence." — Leightou : On
1 Pet. iii. 17.
SERMON IX.
THE CREATURE HAS NO ABSOLUTE MERIT.
LtJKE xvii. 10. — "When ye shall have done all those things which
are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants : we have done
that which it was our duty to do."
In this direction which our Lord gave hia apostles, he
announced a truth that is exceedingly comprehensive and
far-reaching. It involves the whole subject of human
agency as related to the Divine. It throws a flood of
light upon the question whether a creature can perform
good works in his own strength, and thereby bring God
under obligation to him. Though a simple and unmeta-
physical proposition, though so plain that a little child can
understand it, this instruction of Christ to his disciples
contains the key to the whole subject of human merit. It
is the passage of Scripture which, perhaps more than any
other, settles the dispute between the Protestant and the
Papist ; between the advocate of grace and the advocate
of works.
Our Lord takes the ground that there can be no merit,
in the absolute meaning of the word, in the creature be-
fore the Creator. !No man can perform a service in such
an independent, unassisted style and manner, as to make
God his debtor. "Which of you," he says, "having a
servant ploughing, or feeding cattle, will say unto him
6*
130 THE CREATUEE HAS
immediately, when he is come from the field, Go and sit
down to meat ? and will not rather say unto him, Make
ready wherewith I may sup, and gird thyself, and serve
me, till I have eaten and drunken : and afterward thou
shalt eat and drink. Doth he thank that servant because
he did the things that were commanded him ? I think
not. So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those
things which are commanded you, say. We are unprofitable
servants : we have done [only] that which was our duty
to do." The force of this illustration will not be com-
pletely felt, unless we call to mind the relation which an
Oriental servant sustained to an Oriental master. In this
Western world, where democratic ideas prevail, and the
extremes of human society are brought upon a level, it
would not be regarded as singular, if a servant, in return
for his service, should be addressed with the courteous
phrase: "I thank 3'ou." But in that despotic Oriental
world, where distinctions were carefully kept up, and the
relation of the servant to the master had been established
from time immemorial, and no one thought of disputing
it or of overleaping it, it would have seemed singular had
the master expressed his thanks for services which, accord-
ing to the whole theory and structure of Eastern society,
were rigorously due from the inferior to the superior ; and
still more, if he had proposed to exchange places with his
servant, girding himself in servile apparel, and waiting
upon him at table. Our Lord spoke to Orientals, and
all his illustrations, nay, even his cast of thought and
modes of speech, issued from the Oriental intuition ; and
in order, therefore, to receive their full impression, we
must divest ourselves of many of our Occidental ideas,
and merge our individuality in that of the morning-
land.
The servant is an absolute debtor to his master, and his
NO ABSOLUTE MEEIT. 131
master owes him nothing for his service. This is the
theory of Oriental society and civilization. The creature
is an absolute debtor to his Creator, and his Creator comes
under no obligations to him by anything that he can do.
This is the theory of morals and of merit, for the Orient
and the Occident ; for the angels in heaven and the devils
in hell ; for the whole rational universe of God, We find
it woven into the whole warp and woof of Revelation. In
the very twilight of the Patriarchal Church, we hear Eli-
phaz the Temanite asking : " Can a man be profitable unto
God, as he that is wise may be profitable unto himself ?
Is it any pleasure to the Almighty [any addition to his in-
finite blessedness], that thou art righteous? or is it gain
to him that thou makest thy ways perfect ? " (Job xxii.
2, 3). Elihu repeats the thought in the inquiry : " If
thou be righteous, what givest thou him ? or what receiv-
eth he of thine hand ? Thy wickedness may hurt a man
as thou art ; and thy righteousness may profit the son of
man " (Job xxxv. Y, 8). The Psalmist, bringing to mind
the independence and infinitude of God-, feelingly says in
reference to his own graces and virtues : " My goodness
extendeth not to thee, but to the saints that are in the
earth, and to the excellent in whom is all my delight "
(Ps. xvi. 2, 3). St. Paul flings out his voice in that confi-
dent and challenging tone which accompanies the percep-
tion of indisputable truth, and asks : " Who hath first
given to God, that it should be recompensed unto him
again ? For of him, and through him, and to him, are all
things" (Pom. xi. 35, 36). And with reference to the
preaching of the gospel itself, and the long train of trials,
and sorrows, and sufferings which it brought with it — even
with reference to that wonderful self-dedication which St.
Paul made of all that he had and all that he was, that
whole burnt-offering of body, soul, and spirit, which he
182 THE CREATURE HAS
offered upon tlie altar of God — lie says: "For though I
preach the gospel, I have nothing to glory of : for neces-
sity is laid upon me ; yea, woe is unto me if I preach not
the gospel " (1 Cor. ix. 16). From beginning to end, the
teaching of Revelation is, that when the creature has done
his whole duty perfectly and without a single slip or fail-
ure, if he boast, it must not be in the presence of God.
Before creatures, and in reference to creatures, such a
perfection might challenge admiration and lay under
bonds ; but not before the Great God and in reference to
the Supreme Being. " If Abraham were justified by
works, he hath whereof to glory; but not before God"
(Rom. iv. 2).
We propose to mention the grounds and reasons of this.
Why must every man, when he has done all those things
which are commanded him, say, in reference to God, " I
am an unprofitable servant ; I have only done that which
it was my duty to do ?''
I. In the first place, he must so say, and so feel, because
he is a created being.
If a man originated himself, sustained himself in exist-
ence, arranged and controlled all his circumstances, and
then by his own independent power should perfectly
obey the moral law, he would perform a service for which
lie could demand from God a suitable compensation.
Having out of his own resources, and without any assist-
ance from the Supreme Being, rendered unto him a
perfect character and a perfect life, he would bring the
Supreme Being under obligations corresponding to the
worth and worthiness of such a character and such a life.
In this case, man and God would stand in the same rela-
tion to each other that any two creatures do ; and what-
ever one of the parties should do in accordance with the
wish or will of the other, would be a " profitable" service,
NO ABSOLUTE MEEIT. 133
and would bring the other nnder bonds to him. If one
man, for example, complies with the desii-e of another
man, and performs the service which he requests, the
latter is a " profitable " servant to the former, and the
former nmst " thank " the latter for it, and must render
him an equivalent, unless he is willing to be under con-
tinual obligation to him. And this for the reason that
men in relation to one another are independent agents.
If I perform a service for a fellow creature, he is not up-
liolding me in existence, ordering and controlling all my
circumstances, and rendering me a continual assistance at
the very time that I am at work for him. He had noth-
ing to do with my origin, my continued existence, and the
conditions under which I live and act. In relation to him,
I am an independent agent ; and therefore what I do for
him I do of myself, and what I give to him I give out of
my own resources ; and therefore I am a " profitable "
servant to him, and he must " thank " me for what I have
done, and for what I have given.
But this is not the state of the case between man and
God. He made us, and not we ourselves. We do not
sufficiently consider what is implied in the stupendous
fact of creation from nothing ; and how utterly dependent
a creature must be from the nature of the case. When
an artisan manufactures a product of skill, say a watch or
a plough, we call it his, because he fashioned the materials
and put them together. A watch is very dependent upon
its maker ; and we cannot conceive of its bringing the
watchmaker under obligations, or in any manner becoming
a " profitable " servant to him deserving of thanks. But
God does not merely fashion materials and put them
together, in the act of creation. He calls the very ele-
ments themselves into being from nonentity. He orig-
inates the creature from nothing, by a miracle of onmip-
134 THE CREATURE HAS
otence. How then can a creature bring the Creator
under obhgations ? How can he from an absolutely in-
dependent position reach out to God a product, or a
service, that merits the thanks of the Almighty ? The
very hand by which he reaches out the gift is the creation
of the Being to whom the gift is offered. The very soul
and body that stands up before God and proposes to be-
stow upon him a gift, is itself the pure make of God's
sheer fiat. Its very being is due to his omnipotent power.
The prophet Isaiah asks : " Shall the axe boast itself
against him that heweth therewith ? or shall the saw
magnify itself against him that shaketh it ? as if the rod
should shake itself against them that lift it up, or as if
the staff should lift itself, as if it were no wood " (Is. x.
15). Mere dead matter cannot exert any living functions.
The saw cannot saw the sawyer. The axe cannot chop
the chopper. They are lifeless instruments in a living
hand, and must move as they are moved. It is im-
possible that by any independent agency of their own
they should act upon man, and make him the passive sub-
ject of their operations. But it is yet more impossible
for a creature to establish himself upon an independent
position in reference to the Creator. Every atom and
element in his body and soul is originated, and kept in
being, by the steady exertion of his Maker's power. If
this were relaxed for an instant, he would cease to be.
Nothing, therefore, can be more helpless and dependent
than a creature ; and no relation so throws a man upon
the bare power and support of God as the creaturely rela-
tion. A miracle might endow the saw with a power to
saw the sawyer; and the axe with a power to cut tlie
cutter. But no miracle could render the creature self-
existent and self-sustaining, so that he could give to God
something strictly from and of himself ; something which
NO ABSOLUTE MERIT. 135
he had not received ; something whereby he could be
" profitable " to God and merit his thanks.
II. In the second place, man cannot make himself
" profitable " unto God, and lay him under obligation,
because he is constantly sustained and wpheld by God.
" O Lord," says the Psalmist, " how manifold are thy
works ! in wisdom hast thou made them all : the earth is
full of thy glory. So is this great and wide sea wherein
are things creeping innumerable, both small and great
beasts. These wait all upon thee, that thou mayest give
them their meat in due season. That thou givest them,
they gather ; thou openest thine hand, they are filled with
good. Thou hidest thy face, they are troubled ; thou
takest away their breath, they die and return to their dust.
Thou sendest forth thy spirit, they are created ; and thou
renewest the face of the earth " (Ps. civ. 24-30). This is
an accurate and beautiful description of the great process
that is continually going on in the universe of God. Crea-
tion, preservation, and, when it pleases Him, destruction —
these are the functions which the Supreme Ruler is un-
ceasingly exerting in his boundless kingdom. The same
power that calls the creature into existence from nothing
is employed in keeping him in existence. It requires om-
nipotence to preserve the creature and provide for his
constant wants, as much as it requires omnipotence to
speak it into being in the outset ; and some theologians
have therefore defined preservation to be a constant crea-
tion. The divine energy that produced that leviathan
which swims the ocean stream must be perpetually exerted,
in order that he may not fall back into the abyss of non-
entity from which he came. Wherever that sea-monster
goes ; whether he rushes league after league through the
waters of the Atlantic or Pacific ; whether he is skimming
the seas in pursuit of his food, or whether like Milton's
136 THE CEEATUEE HAS
Satan he lies "prone on the flood, extended long and
large, floating manj a rood " — in every inch of space, and
at every point of time, he is upheld by creative power.
And so it is with the billions of billions of creatures of all
ranks and sizes, that crowd the material universe. Each
and every one of them is just as truly supported as if a
material hand were placed beneath it, and we could see
the exertion of the upholding force. " The young lions
roar after their prey, and seek their meat from God."
This is true of man. He goeth forth unto his work,
and to his labor until the evening. But wherever he goes,
and whatever he does, he stands, in Banquo's phrase, in the
great hand of God. He draws every breath by a Divine
volition ; he takes every step by a Divine permission ; he
lives, moves, and has his being in his Creator. What an
impression would this truth make upon us, did we but
comprehend its significance and realize it. Should we see
a superhuman hand suddenly reach down from the sky,
and pick up a sinking sailor in the middle of the ocean
from the engulfing billows, or snatch a little infant from
the sea of flame in a great conflagration, we should believe
that neither of them saved himself, but that God saved
him. We should understand what is meant by preserva-
tion by the hand and power of the Almighty. We could
not refer it to a law of nature, nor to the operation of
chance. By the supposition, we saw the very hand that
grasped the sinking sailor, or the burning infant, and no
reasoning whatever could deaden the impression which
that miraculous occurrence would make upon our minds.
Now, similar ought to be the impression made by the
whole daily course of Divine Providence. Though con-
stant and unceasing ; though new every morning, fresh
every evening, and repeated every moment ; noiseless as
the light, and ever-present as the atmosphere ; yet if man
NO ABSOLUTE MERIT. 137
were what he should be, he would be unceasingly conscious
of God's supporting presence and power. He would not,
as he now does, place something between God and his
works so that God cannot be seen. He would not refer
his own health, strength, wealth, poverty, sickness, weak-
ness, happiness, sorrow, to the operation of merely natural
causes, but ultimately to the direct will and power of his
Maker. He would say and feel that when God sends
forth his spirit, creatures are created ; and that when he
taketh away their breath, they die and return to their dust.
This is the Biblical view of Divine Providence. In the
Bible everything is very close to God. Not only the
miracle, but the' ordinary occurrences and operations of
nature are referred immediately to him. God thunders
in the heavens. God lightens along the sky. "The
voice of the Lord is upon the waters: the God of
glory thundereth ; the Lord is upon many waters. The
voice of the Lord is powerful ; the voice of the Lord
is full of majesty. The voice of the Lord breaketh
the cedars" (Ps. xxix. 3-5). This is the inspired de-
scription of an ordinary thunderstorm. And it is the
truest statement that can be made. For if the man of
science tells me that the lightning and the thunder are the
result of electricty, I must complete his statement by tell-
ing him that electricty itself is a creation of God. If
he tells me that two clouds, each charged with its own
positive or negative electricity, when meeting together
produce the detonation that shakes the heavens and the
earth, I must add to his explanation the still further state-
ment, that these two clouds, and everything in or about
them, are formed, and are made to sail together, by God's
will. By everything in this thunderstorm, we are causally
and ultimately carried back to the Divine decision. For
why should the two clouds meet together just at this par-
138 THE CEEATURE HAS
ticular moment, and not a half hour later ? Because of
the will of Him who " raaketli a decree for the rain, and
a way for the lightning of the thunder " (Job. xxviii. 26).
Why at any spot in the greensward do just so many spires
of grass shoot up — no more and no fewer ? Because of
the will of Him who numbers the hairs of the human head,
and makes one hair black and another white.'
This, we say, is the doctrine of the Bible concerning the
preserving and sustaining providence of God. According
to the Scriptures, no being is so close to man, and so close
to nature, as the Author of man, and the Author of nature.
One man may come very near to his fellow man. He may
hear his words, feel his breath, touch his hand. But God
is nearer to him than this. Every man is very close to
himself. There are thoughts and emotions which no
creature knows but himself. But the Searcher of the
heart is closer to him than this. The forces of nature are
very near to the objects of the natural world. The prin-
ciple of vegetable life is inside of the tree and the flower ;
the principle of gravitation operates within the mass of
rock or the planetary orb. JSI^othing, it would seem, could
be nearer to nature than the life of nature. But God is
nearer than this ; because he is the maker and upholder
of these very invisible principles, and this very indwelling
life itself.
Keturning now to the course of our argument, we say
that the fact that man is so utterly and wholly dependent
upon the immediate presence and unceasing support of
God, renders it impossible that he should ever bring God
under bonds to him, and merit his thanks, hy anything
that lie can do. He is a receiver at every point, and at
' Matter is destitute of self-motion, and therefore cannot be eitlier a
prime mover, or a first cause.
NO ABSOLUTE MERIT. 139
every instant. He cannot give out a thing that has not
first come in to him. " What hast thon," says St. Paul,
" that thou hast not received ? " There is therefore no
starting-point in the attempt of man to be a " profitable "
servant unto God, and to merit his thanks. He cannot
take the first step. Before he can make a beginning, he
must get outside of the providence of God ; he must take
his stand upon some position where he is no longer pre-
served and upheld by his Creator. So long as he occupies
his present position, and all his powers and faculties are
maintained in existence and operation by the power of
God, so long he owes to God all that he is, and all that he
can do ; and, therefore, when he has done all things that
are commanded him, there must not be the faintest rising
of pride in his heart, and he must say, " I am an unprofit-
able servant, I have done [only] that which it was my
duty to do."
HI. In the third place, man cannot be " profitable " to
God, and merit his thanks, because all his good works de-
pend upon the operation and assistance of the Holy Spirit.
Our Lord's doctrine of human merit is cognate with the
doctrine of Divine grace.
Says the prophet Isaiah : " Lord, thou wilt ordain peace
for us : for thou also hast wrought all our works in us "
(Isaiah xxvi. 12). The original Hebrew here does not per-
mit us to affirm that the prophet spake these words pri-
marily with reference to spiritual exercises. He had in
view providential dispensations; the protection which
God had granted his people in the days that were past, and
which was a pledge of favor in the future.' At the same
time, however, these words are applicable to the inward
agency of God in the human soul, and they have been so
' Alexander : On Isaiah xxvi. 13.
140 THE CREATUEE HAS
generally applied to this agency, that probably this is the
reference that comes first into the mind of the mass of
readers. This text is understood to teach the same that
St. Paul teaches, when he says that it is " God that work-
eth in us to will and to do."
Now, we find in the fact that all good works are the
product of the Holy Spirit in the human heart, a strong
reason why the renewed man, though a faithful servant, is
not a " profitable " one. It is because God works all our
good works in us, that after we have done all things which
are commanded us, we must say: "We are unprofitable
servants ; we have by God's grace done that which it was
our duty to do."
When a man does wrong, he receives no assistance from
God. A wicked person cannot say, " By the grace of God
I am what I am." A sinful man cannot adopt Paul's
words and affirm, " I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in
me." Sin in all its forms, be it original or actual, be it
the inclination of the heart or the single act, is not the
product of God " working " in the creature " to Avill and
to do." On the contrary, it is a self-willed and hostile
action on the part of man. When you think an evil
thought, you may be certain that your Maker did not
inspire it in your mind. Wlien your heart swells with
pride, malice or envy, you may know infallibly that God
did not infuse it into your heart. When your will is
determined to selfish and disobedient purposes, it is im-
possible that the Holy Ghost should have impulsed such
a purpose. No sinful creature can look into the face of
his Creator and say with Isaiah, " O Lord, thou hast
wrought all our works in us." Sin is differentiated from
holiness by this, among other modes, that it is purely the
work of man. God is not the author of sin. It is true
that the sinner is created and upheld by God, as entirely
NO ABSOLUTE MERIT. 141
as is the saint. In respect to the great functions of
creation and providence, all mankind, the good and the
bad, stand upon the same level, and there is no difference
among them. But when we pass to the use and operation
of these created powers and faculties, we discover a heaven-
wide difference. Some men lean upon God, ask for his
inward presence and assistance, and in reliance upon his
grace, think their thoughts, form their purposes, and per-
form their actions. They work good works, because their
deeds, in our Savior's phrase, " are wrought in God."
But other men, and at present they are the majority, think
their own thoughts, form their own selfish and independent
purposes, and perform corresponding outward actions,
with no reliance upon God's assistance, and no prayer for
his indwelling presence. And all such thoughts, purposes,
and actions are evil. You cannot define sin any better than
to say that it is the creature's sole work ; the creature's
self-will. It is a species of moral agency that is not ex-
ercised in humble dependence upon God, but in opposition
to him. It is an attempt to be wholly independent of the
Almighty. The sinner works his own wicked works with-
out any influence, impulse, or assistance from his holy
Maker. It is true, that in the very act of sinning, God
sustains in existence the faculties themselves — the very
mind, the very heart, the very will by which the sinner
sins — but he does not prompt the wicked thought in the
mind; he does not produce the wicked feeling in the
heart ; he does not inspire the wicked purpose in the will.
The faculty by which a man sins is created and every
instant upheld by the Creator, but the sinning itself is the
work of the faculty itself. Hence, sin cannot be chai-ged
upon God. We cannot impute our transgressions to him.
But it is not so with holiness. When we pass over to
this side, and consider the relation which God sustains to
142 THE CREATUEE HAS
righteousness, we find that he is not only the creator and
preserver of our powers and faculties, but he also influences,
prompts, inspires, and actuates them. He does not merely
create a human will and maintain it in existence, and then
leave it to itself to work out righteousness. He does not
dismiss his people to their own independent and unas-
sisted efforts. He well knows how weak and mutable
the strongest human will is in reference to holiness ; how
liable it is to fall, even under the most favorable circum-
stances, as Adam fell in paradise ; and how constantly it
needs his almighty power, his eternal and self-subsistent
goodness, to rest upon. And therefore it is, that while
the shame and guilt of sin must be referred to the creature
always and alone, the glory and honor of holiness must be
referred to the Creator always and alone. When I have
done wrong, I must say: "I am the guilty author of this
sin ; to me, and to me only, does the guilt and condemna-
tion attach." But when I have done right, I spontaneously
cry : " O Lord, thou hast wrought all my good works in
me ; the glory and the honor of this righteousness be-
longeth unto thee. Not unto man, not unto the creature,
do I give the glory."
Now, is it not plain that if these representations are
correct ; if this is the relation which all holiness in the
creature sustains to the Creator ; if God really does work
in every good man or good angel to will and to do ; that
man or that angel cannot bring God under obligations to
him by any or all of his righteousness ? The same prin-
ciple of reasoning applies here that applies in the case
of creation and providence. Create yourself and sustain
yourself, and then do something which God requires, and
you become a "profitable" servant. Perform a single
good act without any assistance from God ; think a single
holy thought, feel a single holy emotion, without any in-
NO ABSOLUTE MERIT. 143
flnence or impulse fi'om the Holy Comforter ; and then
you may demand a reward from your Sovereign upon the
principle of abstract right. But so long as you are what
you are, by the grace of God ; so long as he enables you to
keep his commandments ; say unto him from the depths
of a humble and a filial heart : " I am an unprofitable
servant. 1 have done that which it was my duty to do ;
but I have done it in thy strength, and by thy gracious
assistance."
The subject is fertile in inferences and practical conclu-
sions, and to some of these we now devote the remainder
of the discourse.
1. In the first place, we see in the light of our Lord's
theory of human merit, why it is impossible for a crea-
ture to make atoneinent for sin.
There are only two classes of actions possible to man.
He must either do right or do wrong. That the perform-
ance of sinful works will atone for sin, has never entered
the head of the wildest visionary that ever rejected the
evangelical method of forgiveness, and invented a theory
for himself. No, men propose to satisfy Divine justice
for the sins that are past, by good works. They have done
wrong, and they would set themselves right with their re-
proaching consciences, and their holy Sovereign, by hence-
forth doing right. In this very attempt, so natural and
spontaneous to man, we find an evidence of the rationality
of the doctrine of atonement. The fact that a transgres-
sor feels himself bound to do something to "make amends
for having heretofore done nothing, or for having done
wrong, is proof that the idea of satisfying for sin is not
so foreign and alien to the human reason as some theorists
assert.
But the good works of a creature cannot be an atone-
ment, because they are not his own independent and self-
144 THE CREATURE HAS
sustained agency. If God works these holy works in my
soul, how can I offer them to him as a satisfaction to his
justice for my sin in the past ? How can I take money
out of the purse of my creditor, to pay my debt to him ?
An atonement, from the nature of the case, must be an
original and self-sufficient performance. Whoever makes
one, must be able to furnish entirely from himself, and
wholly out of his own resources, a full equivalent for
the penalty that is due to sin. He must be a "profita-
ble" servant, in reference to the great Divine attribute of
justice. Little does that man understand the natm'e of an
atonement, who supposes that he himself can make it.
None but a Divine Being — a Being of creative energy,
and self-subsistent position — can reach out to the eternal
nemesis of God, a good work that is purely his own, be-
cause performed by an independent and self-sustaining
power.
But, returning to the good works of the creature, let us
see beyond all dispute that they cannot discharge the
office of a satisfaction, and make him " perfect in things
pertaining to conscience." We have observed that every
good work in man or angel, is the effect of a Divine in-
fluence and impulse. Take the instance of an imperfectly-
sanctified man, and see what you find. He puts up to
God a prayer that is earnest and sincere, though mixed
with sin — sinful unbelief, and sinful references to self.
What of good there is in this "good work," as it is de-
nominated, is due to the influence of the Holy Spirit,
The warmth, the fervor, the importunity, and the spirit-
uality in this exercise, are all owing — and the praying
person is the first to say so — to the gracious impulses and
promptings of God in the soul. Now, supposing tbrt
there were the inclination to do so, how could this prayer
be employed as an offset for any past imperfection or sin
NO ABSOLUTE MERIT. 145
of the soul ? It is God's work in the Christian heart ;
how, then, can the creature arrogate it as his own,
and claim to be a "profitable" servant thereby, and
bring the everlasting justice of God under bonds to
him by it ? And so it is with every service or work of
man, that is worthy of the epithet " good." All this por-
tion of human agency is rooted and grounded in the Di-
vine agency, in the most thorough manner conceivable.
It is dependent not only by reason of creation and preser-
vation, but of direct and immediate influence. The powers
and faculties of a Christian are not only originated and up-
held by their Creator, but they are directed, actuated, and
assisted by Him, at every instant, and in every experience
and action. Never, therefore, was there a greater contra-
diction and absurdity than that involved in the theory of
justification by good works. If the good works were ab-
solutely perfect works, and were performed by the crea-
ture by his own independent and unassisted agency, there
might be some color of reason for the theory.' But the
good works are not perfect. The best of men confess
that their best experiences are mixed with remaining cor-
ruption ; that they never did a single deed which they
dare to say was absolutely sinless ; and that, more than all,
what of goodness there is in these imperfectly sanctified
souls and lives is due wholly to the energy and grace of
God. And therefore it is, that they never adopt the
theory of justification by works. They are, indeed, liable
to this legality and self -righteousness ; and they hate, it,
' Yet no adequate ground for it; since even an independent and sin-
less obedience of the law for the future by one who has broken it in the
past, would not be a complete fulfilment of the law. Because the whole
of this obedience is due in the present and future, and there is no over-
plus left for the past failure. Ready money for new purchases, says
Owen, cannot pay old debts.
7
146 THE CEEATURE HAS
and struggle against it. But they never make it a dogma,
and insert it in their theological system.
Now, surely, the natural man is not better than they.
The sinful secular world, to say the very least, is no better
qualified to furnish its own atonement than is the Christian
Church. The doctrine of justification by good works will
no more prove a solid foundation, in the day of adjudica-
tion, for the worlding or the moralist, than for the self-
denying and struggling Christian. M the disciple of
Christ did not create and sustain himself, and cannot
perform good works in his own strength, neither did the
man of the world create himself, or sustain himself ; and
neither can he perform good works without the same in-
ward grace and assistance. All men, without exception,
are shut up to the atonement of the God-man, if any
atonement for sin is to be made and accepted. There is
no other being but the Eternal Son of God who can stand
up, having life in himself, having power to lay down his
life and power to take it again, and from this self-existent
and self-sustaining position can reach out to the triune
Godhead an oblation for human guilt that is really and
truly meritorious and cancelling. No being except one
of the three Divine Persons can be " profitable " unto God.
And He can. When the Son of God in human nature
suffers for sin, then he strictly earns remission of sins for
those who believe in him ; he absolutely merits the ac-
quittal at the bar of justice of all guilty sinners who trust
in his sacrifice. When the elders of the Jews came to
Jesus beseeching him that he would come and heal the
servant of a certain centurion, they added " that he was
worthy for whose sake he should do this, for he loveth
our nation, and hath built us a synagogue." This Roman
officer had brought the Jewish people under obligations to
him, by the favor which he had extended to them from his
NO ABSOLUTE MEEIT. 147
purely independent position as a Koman citizen, and an
agent of the Roman emperor. As a Roman, he was
under no obligation to buUd a Jewish synagogue. Thus
is it in respect to the Lord Jesus Christ, and his relations
to God and man. He is an independent Being. He owes
nothing to eternal justice, and sinful man, certainly, has
no claims upon him. When, therefore, such a Being
voluntarily takes man's place, and suffers in his stead, and
endures the full penalty which eternal justice demands,
he becomes meritorious for man's salvation ; he becomes
a " profitable " servant, because he has done tnore than it
was his duty to do; he gives to the Eternal Godhead
something out of his own resources which he was not
obliged to give, and which is, therefore, cancelling ; and
every guilty and lost sinner, as he comes before the bar
of justice, may ask for the forgiveness of his sins and
plead as a sufficient and all-prevalent reason, the argument
employed by the Jewish elders : " For He is worthy for
whose sake this should be done."
2. In the second place, we see in the light of this sub-
ject why the creature, even though he be sinlessly per-
fect, must be humble.
Our Lord said to his disciples, " When ye shall have
done all those things which are commanded you, say, we
are unprofitable servants." Even supposing that there
has been an absolute conformity to the Divine command,
there must not be egotism and pride in a creature's heart.
For there has been no independent and self-supporting
agency. Everything that the pure and perfect archangel
does, is done in reliance and dependence upon the in-
finite and adorable Jehovah, And there is no humility in
the universe of God deeper than that which dwells in the
heart of the serapli before the throne. He possesses a
virtue whicJi> if compared with that of the holiest man
148 THE CEEATURE HAS
that ever lived, is ethereal, slry-tempered, and able to re-
sist the severest assaults of temptation and of Satan.
Milton represents the ruined archangel as starting back
abashed, at the sight of the pure and stainless chernbs
whom God had placed to guard our first parents from the
Aviles of their adversary. " Abashed the devil stood, and
felt how awful goodness is." These cherubim before a
fellow-creature, and in relation to a fellow-creature, were
indeed strong and mighty. But in relation to the infinite
and eternal God, they were nothing. Their ethereal and
wondrous virtue, in comparison with the ineffable and tran-
scendent excellence of the Supreme, was vanity. "He
chargeth his angels with folly." This, these holy and
blessed spirits feel ; and they too, like the weakest man
upon earth struggling with temptation and faint with
fatigue, humbly adore that God only wise, and only good,
and only mighty, " of whom, and through whom, and to
whom are all things."
But how slight is our humility, in comparison with that
of these high and blessed spirits before the throne of God !
Pride is continually rising in our hearts over a holiness
that is exceedingly imperfect, being mixed with sin ; over
a holiness that from beginning to end is the product of
God's grace within our souls. How elated we sometimes
are over one meagre, shrivelled excellence ! If we per-
fectlv obeyed the mandate of our Lord in the text, such
an emotion as vain-glory would never be experienced by
us. Let us then ponder our Savior's theory of creature-
merit more than ever. We are " unprofitable," servants,
even if we should render a perfect obedience. If our
faith in Christ's atonement were so perfect that it should
consume us with zeal for him and his cause, we should be
unpi-ofitable servants, and bring him under no obligations
to us. If our dependence upon the grace of his Holy
NO ABSOLUTE MERIT. 149
Spirit were so implicit and entire, that it sliould enable us
to keep perfectly all his statutes and commandments, we
should still be unprofitable servants. We should still be un-
der an infinite obligation to him for his life-blood poured
out for the expiation of our guilt, and for the gracious in-
fluence of the Holj Spirit bj which our sanctification is
effected.
But we have not done all that is commanded us. Our
faith in our Redeemer is very weak and imperfect. We
know comparatively little, of the virtue there is in his
blood to cleanse the guilty soul, and to impart to it the
calm confidence of justification before God. We know
little, comparatively, of the power of the Divine Com-
forter to strengthen the will, to sanctify the heart, and to
bring the whole soul into captivity to the obedience of
Christ. Our experience of the gospel is very stinted and
meagre, in comparison with the fulness, richness, and
freeness of its provisions. Such servants as we, so far
from being " profitable," can with difficulty be called
" faithful." Suppose that the Master should address us
with the words, " Well done, good and faithful servant,"
should we not feel like saying to him, " Lord, when have
we been faithful ; what hast thou seen in us that renders
us worthy of such an address ? "
3. And this leads to a third and final inference from
the subject, namely, that God does not require man to be
a "profitable" servant, but to be b. faithful servant.
In the last great day, Christ will say to his true disciples,
" Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the
joy of thy Lord." God does not demand from his creatures
a service that must be rendered from an independent
position, that must be performed by a self-subsistent
power, and that will bring him under obligation to the
person so rendering it. Everywhere his command to the
150 THE CREATURE HAS
creature is : " Be strong in the Lord, and the power of his
might. Trust in the Lord, and do good. Work out your
salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God that work-
eth in you both to will and to do. He that trusteth in
his own heart is a fool. Cursed is the man that trusteth
in man, and maketh flesh his arm." Such injunctions
and declarations as these imply that man must serve God
by leaning upon him ; and that he must give back to God
that which God has first given to him. The servants, in
the parable, did not first create the five talents, or the ten
talents, independently of their lord, and then make them
over to him. He gave them the talents, and required
simply a right use and improvement of them. Thus is it,
in a still higher sense, in reference to man and his Maker.
Not only are the talents created and bestowed, but, as we
have seen, the very inclination and ability to make a right
employment of them issues from the same boundless source.
" We are not sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as
of ourselves ; all our sufficiency is of God."
It is, therefore, a true and proper supplication that
Augustine puts up, when he says to God : " Give what
thou commandest, and command what thou wilt." This
corresponds with the Psalmist's promise : " I will run in
the way of thy commandments when thou shalt enlarge
my heart." The "faithful" servant is one who, feeling
his entire dependence and helplessness, does not propose
to labor in his own strength, and to proudly offer to God
something from his own independent resources, but simply
desires to lean upon God continually, to take hold of his
strength, and thereby keep all his commandments, and
glorify him in his body and spirit which are His.
And what an easy task is this. The yoke is easy, and
the burden is light. Our Maker does not command us to
be strong in ourselves ; but to be strong in Him. He does
NO ABSOLUTE MEEIT. 151
not require us to originate our own existence, to maintain
ourselves in being, to labor upon an isolated and indepen-
dent position, and to give unto him something that shall
add to his essential happiness and essential glory. He
furnishes everything, and only requires that we be faithful
in employing his gifts. We are stewards of the manifold
gifts of God ; and it is required of a steward, simply and
only, that he be found faithful.
Are we " faithful " servants ? Since we cannot be
" profitable " servants, the only thing that remains for us is
to employ the innumerable gifts and bounties of God with
fidelity. Our time, faculties of mind and body, wealth,
opportunities of influence — everything that goes to make
up our personality, and everything that is connected with
our existence here upon earth — the whole man, body, soul,
spirit, possessions, and influence in every direction, must
be conscientiously used to honor God and benefit man.
This, too, in reliance upon God.
Whoever is thus faithful, will be rewarded with as great
a reward as if he were an independent and self-sustaining
agent. Nay, even if man could be a " profitable " servant,
and could bring God under obligation to him, his happi-
ness in receiving a recompense under such circumstances
would not compare with that under the present arrange-
ment. It would be a purely mercantile transaction be-
tween the parties. There would be no love in the service,
or in the recompense. The creature would calmly, proudly,
do his work, and the Creator would calmly pay him his
wages. And the transaction would end there, like any
other bargain. But now, there is affection between the
parties — filial love on one side, and paternal love on the
other ; dependence, and weakness, and clinging trust, on
one side, and grace, and almighty power, and infinite fulness
on the other. God rewards by jpromise and by covenant,
162 THE CEEATUEE HAS NO ABSOLUTE MEEIT.
and not because of an absolute and original indebtedness
to the creature of his power. And the creatui*e feels that
he is what he is, because of the grace of God. There is
no pride or boasting of heart, on his side. And the in-
finite Creator, who needs nothing, and cannot be brought
under bonds by any of the works of his hands, pours
out the infinite fulness of his being and his blessedness
upon a creature who rejoices in the thought that all that
he is, is the work of Divine providence and grace, and
all that he has accomplished, is the effect of God " work-
ing in him to will and to do of his good pleasure."
SERMON X.
FAITH WITH AND WITHOUT SIGHT,
John XX. 29. — "Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast
seen me, thou hast believed : blessed are they that have not seen, and
yet have believed."
This is one of the most comforting and encouraging
passages in the whole Scripture, to a doubting and anxious
Christian. There is one instance upon record, in which
it proved a strong support and consolation in an hour of
great need. The late Dr. Arnold of Rugby, one of the
most serious-minded and earnest men which England has
produced in this century, was suddenly summoned to meet
death and judgment. In the midst of perfect health he
was attacked with spasm of the heart, and learned that in
a moment he would be called into the infinitely holy
presence of his Maker. He knew what this meant ; for
the immaculate purity of God was a subject that had
profoundly impressed his spiritual and ethical mind. He
felt the need of mercy at the prospect of seeing God face
to face ; and as he lay upon his death-bed, still, thought-
ful, and absorbed in silent prayer, all at once he repeated,
firmly and earnestly : " And Jesus said unto him, Thomas,
because thou hast seen me thou hast believed : blessed are
they who have not seen, and yet have believed." ' Here is
« Stanley : Life of Arnold, II. 283.
154 FAITH WITH AND
an actual case in which a single text operated like a
cordial ; and a case, too, in which there was no fanaticism
or self-delusion. For Arnold's mind was highly intel-
lectual, and its natural tendency apart from the influences
of Christianity was to criticism and skepticism. He was
an Aristotelian in his mental type, and in all his scholar-
ship and culture. But after an earnest Christian life, in
the hour of sudden death, from which the litany of the
Church which he honored and loved prays, " Good Lord,
deliver us," he pillowed his head upon this blessed decla-
ration of the Redeemer, and went to his rest. Let us,
therefore, approach this text and this subject as no mere
abstraction, but as one that has actually been efficacious
and consoling in the supreme hour of a celebrated man.
This passage of Scripture suggests a comparison between
faith aided by sight, and faith independent of sight. How
does the faith of the Church in an age of miracles differ
from its fajth when miracles have ceased ? In answering
this question, we propose, in the first place, to notice some
of the advantages that were enjoyed by those who dwelt
under the miraculous dispensation ; and in the second
place, to consider the advantages experienced since the
days of miracles.
1. In the first place, then, what were some of the ad-
vantages enjoyed by those who lived and served God in
the times of miracle f
They may all be summed up in the remark, that to a
considerable extent the pious patriarch, and the pious Jew,
and the first Christians, walked by sight. They believed
because they saw. By this we do not mean that the
ancient believer walked wholly by sight. I^oah was
" warned of God of things not seen as yet." Abraham
went out of his old home " not knowing whither he
went." And that long list of worthies mentioned in the
WITHOUT SIGHT. 155
eleventh chapter of Hebrews, is represented as acting
without assistance from the objects of time and sense,
in the particular instances that are specified. But we
mean to say that, comparing these forerunners of ours
with ourselves, and taking into the account the whole
course of their lives, they were much Tnore aided by sight
than we are.
For it was an age and dispensation of supernaturalism.
God was frequently breaking in upon the ordinary course
of events, and proving his existence by his visible pres-
ence. Who could doubt the doctrine of the Divine exist-
ence, who could be an atheist, as he stood under Mount
Sinai and heard a voice that shook the earth and heavens
saying : " Thou shalt have no other gods before me ? "
Who could query respecting the possibility of miracles,
when he saw the waters of the Red Sea rising up like a
wall upon each side of him ; when he saw a dead man re-
vived to life upon touching the bones of Elisha ; when he
saw, as Hezekiah did, the shadow go back ten degrees
upon the sun-dial ; when he heard Christ call up Lazarus
from the tomb, and when he looked down into the vacant
sepulchre of the crucified Son of God ?
Now there was something in this, unquestionably, that
rendered faith in God's existence and God's power com-
paratively easy to the ancient believer. The senses, when
appealed to in this striking manner, by the exhibition of
supernatural energy, are a very great aid to faith. Seeing
is believing, Jacob, for example, must have found it no
difficult thing to believe and trust in a Being who was
every now and then speaking to him, directing him into
new paths and places, watching over him, and delivering
him from difficulties and dangers. Such a communica-
tion as that which he received from the mouth of God in
the wonderful dream at Bethel, must have filled him with
166 FAITH WITH AND
an unwavering belief in both the existence and the kind-
ness of God.
How differently the believer of the present time is situ-
ated, in this respect, it is needless to say. If we suppose
miracles to have ceased with the age of the Apostles, then
for eighteen hundred years there has been no exertion of
miraculous power upon the part of God in the affairs of
his Church. Generation after generation of Christians has
come and gone, but no celestial sign has been given to
them. They have believed that God is, and is the re-
warder of those that diligently seek him, but they have
never seen his shape nor heard his voice. They have had
strong faith in the immortality of the soul, and the reality
of a future life, but no soul has ever returned from the
invisible world to give them ocular demonstration, and
make their assurance doubly sure. In some instances, this
reticence upon the part of God, this silence century after
century, has produced an almost painful uncertainty, and
wakened the craving for some palpable evidence of unseen
realities. That interesting man, John Foster, is an example
of this. " They never come back to tell us ; they never
come back to tell us," was his passionate ejaculation upon
thinking of the impenetrable cloud which envelops those
who have departed this life. And all these spasmodic
and baffled attempts of the false spiritualism of this day,
and of former days, are another testimony to the craving
natural to man for some miraculous tokens and signs.
Skeptics contend that the miracle is irrational. But, cer-
tainly, nothing is irrational for which there is a steady and
constant demand upon the part of human nature. The
hankering which man, in all ages and in all varieties of civ-
ilization, has shown for the supernatural, proves the super-
natural— as the universal hunger for bread proves that
there is bread, and as the steady and continual thirst for
WITHOUT SIGHT. 157
water proves that there is water. Otherwise, there is
mockery in creation. Man as a religious being expects
and must have some sensible signs from another world ;
and therefore there has never been a religion of any gen-
eral prevalence which has not had its miracles, pretended
or real. The ancient Paganism, and the modern Moham-
medanism, equally with the Jewish and Christian religions,
claim authority upon the ground of celestial credentials.
Our brethren, then, of the Patriarchal, the Jewish, and
the Early Christian times, enjoyed this advantage over us.
The aids of the senses were granted to them in the exer-
cise of faith. They were not shut up as we are to a purely
mental and spiritual act. " Because thou hast seen me,
thou hast believed," might have been said to them all, as
Christ said it to Thomas.
II. But our Lord said to his doubting disciple : " Bles-
sed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed."
In this remark, he evidently implies that those who believe
in him and his word without the aid of those sensible
manifestations which were enjoyed by Thomas and his
fellow-disciples, receive a greater blessing than they did.
Let us then consider, in the second place, some of the
advantages which the Church of God experiences in these
latter days, when there is no miracle to assist their faith.
1. In the first place, believing without seeing is a stronger
faith than believing because of sight ; and the stronger
the faith, the greater the blessedness. If Thomas had
put credit in the affirmation of the other disciples that
they had seen the Lord, and had not insisted upon seeing
for himself the print of the nails, and putting his finger
into the print of the nails, it is evident that his faith in
the Divine person and power of Christ would have been
greater than it actually was. For Christ had foretold
him, in common with his fellow disciples, that he was to
158 FAITH WITH AND
be crucified, and on the third day after his cnicifixion
would rise from the dead. Thomas had ah'eadj witnessed
the crucifixion, and knew that this part of his Lord's
prophecy was fulfilled. If, now, he had exercised an im-
plicit confidence in the remainder of Christ's prophecy,
the instant that the other disciples informed him that they
had seen the Lord, he would have believed them. But
his doubt, and his demand to see and touch the risen
Lord, evinced that his faith in the power of Christ to rise
from the dead, and make his promise good, was weak and
wavering. It needed to be helped out by sight, and there-
fore was not of so high and fine a type as it might have been.
If we examine the Scriptures, we shall find that that
faith is most pleasing to God, and is regarded by him as of
the best quality, which leans least upon the creature, and
most upon the Creator. Whenever man rests his whole
weight upon God ; whenever the Christian trusts the bare
word of his Lord and Master without any aid from other
sources ; God is most honored. Take the case of Abra-
ham. We have already noticed that in some respects he
was not called to exercise so simple and entire a trust in
the Divine word as we are. He lived in a period of
miracle, and was the subject of miraculous impressions.
But there were some emergencies, or critical points, in his
life, when his faith was put to a very severe trial — times
when, in the Scripture phrase, God "tempted" him.
These were the instances in which his experience resem-
bled more that of the modern than that of the ancient be-
liever, and it is with reference to them that he is styled
the " father of the faithful." Consider the trial of his
faith when commanded to sacrifice Isaac. This child had
been given to him by a miracle ; for Isaac was born as
truly against the ordinary course of nature as Christ him-
self. Abraham did indeed manifest doubt when God
WITHOUT SIGHT. 159
promised him this son — showing that his faith at that
point was infirm. But when the promise had been ful-
filled, and Isaac was growing up before him in beauty and
in strength, then he certainly knew that God is almight}^
and faithful to his word. Here, up to this point, the faith
of the patriarch was resting very much upon sight and sen-
sible things. But when he is suddenly commanded to
take this very child who had been given to him by a
miracle, and whose death would apparently nullify the
Divine promise that in his seed all the kindreds of the
earth should be blessed — when he is commanded, without
a word of explanation, to sacrifice the son of promise, to
obey was the highest conceivable act of pure faith. It
did not rest at all upon any thing that could be seen. It
was mere and simple confidence in the authority and
power of God. He only knew that it was the Eternal
Jehovah who had given him the awful order to put the
sacrificial knife to the heart of his child, and the Eternal
Jehovah must be obeyed at all hazards. This was the
crowning act of faith upon the part of Abraham, and God
put great honor upon him for it, because Abraham had
put great honor upon God in hoping against hope, and
following in the path of the Divine command without a
ray of earthly light.
Now, it is to this uncommon species, this high degree
of faith, that the modern believer is invited. We have
never seen a miracle. We have never witnessed the man-
ifestations of God's supernatural power. We have only
read the record of what He did, in this way, thousands of
years ago. It is indeed an authentic record, yet it cannot,
from the nature of the case, make such a startling impres-
sion upon us as would the very miracles themselves — as
would the very plagues of Egypt, the passage of the Eed
Sea, the thunders of Sinai, the resurrection of Lazarus,
160 FAITH WITH AND
the darkness, the quaking of the earth, the rending of the
rocks and opening of the graves, that accompanied the
Crucifixion. As Horace long ago said : " That which
conies in by the ear does not affect us like that which
comes in by the eye." Our faith must therefore rest more,
comparatively, upon the simple authority of God. As an
act, it must be more purely mental and spiritual. Inas-
much as we see less with our outward vision, we must be-
lieve more with the very mind and heart. And here is
the greater strength and superiority of the modern faith.
The inward powers of the soul are nobler than the five
senses ; and their acts have more worth and dignity than
the operations of the senses. Keason is a higher faculty
than sense. If I believe in the power and goodness of
God only because, and only when, I see their operation in
a given instance, I do not give him any very high honor.
There is no very great merit in following the notices of
the five senses. An animal does this continually. But
when I believe that God is great and good, not only when
I have no special evidence from material phenomena, but
when these phenomena seemingly teach the contrary ;
when my faith runs back to the nature and attributes of
God himself, and is not staggered in the least by any-
thing that I see, then I give God great honor. I follow
higher dictates than those of the five senses. I believe
with the mind and heart; and with the mind and heart I
make confession unto salvation. My faith is not sensuous,
but spiritual. I rectify the teachings of mere time and
sense, by the higher teachings of revelation and the spir-
itual mind.
That bold and eloquent North-African father, Tertul-
lian, speaking of miracles, remarks : "I believe the mira-
cle because it is impossible." ' This remark has been a
' Credo quia impossibile est.
WITHOUT SIGHT. 161
theme for the wit of the unbeliever, because he under-
stood Tertullian to say that he believed an absolute impos-
sibility. This is not the meaning of the celebrated dictum.
Tertullian means that he believes that a thing which is
relatively impossible — which is impossible with man — is
for this very reason possible with God. The Creator must
have the power to work a miracle, from the very fact that
the creature has no such power. For if God can never rise
above the plane upon which a creature acts, then it is a
natural inference that he is nothing but a creature himself.
If a thing that is impossible for man is impossible for God
also, what is the difference between God and man? "I
believe, therefore," says Tertullian, " that the Creator is
able to work a miracle, for the very reason that the crea-
ture cannot. Its impossibility in respect to finite power,
makes it all the more certain in respect to infinite. I be-
lieve the thing in reference to God, because in reference
to man and man's agency it is an utter impossibility."
This is sound reasoning for any one who concedes the
existence of God, and believes that he differs in kind from
his creatures. Tertullian only utters in a striking paradox
the thought of St. Paul, when he says to King Agrippa :
" Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you
that God should raise the dead?" and the affirmation
of our Lord : " The things which are impossible with men
are possible with God."
]^ow, this is the kind of faith that does not lean upon
the five senses, but goes back to the rational idea and in-
trinsic nature of God. The Supreme Being can do any-
thing ; and whatever he does is wise and good. This is
faith in its higher and stronger actings. The mind re-
poses upon God simply and alone. It does not ask for
the ways and means. All that it requires is, to be certain
that the Divine promise has been given ; that God has
162 FAITH WITH AND
pledged his word in a given instance ; and then it leaves
all to Him. Whether the laws of nature work for or
against the promised result is a matter of not the slightest
consequence, provided that the Author of nature, who
taketh up the isles as a very little thing, and holds the
waters in the hollow of his hand, has said that it shall
verily come to pass. This is the simplest and strongest
form of faith. " Blessed are they who have not seen, and
yet have believed." And this is the form of faith to
which we are invited.'
2. In the second place, faith without sight honors God
more than faith that is assisted by sight. We cannot show
greater respect for any one than to take his bare word.
In human circles it is the highest praise that can be ac-
corded, when it is said of a person : " I have his word for
it, and that is enough." If we are compelled in a given
instance to go back of the man's word or promise, and scru-
tinize his integrity or his pecuniary ability ; if we must
doubt the person and look into his character or circum-
stances, our faith in him is not of the strongest kind, and
we do not put the highest honor upon him. There are
comparatively few men of this first class and standing ;
comparatively few of whom the whole community with
one voice will say: "We want no examinations and no
guarantees ; we trust the Qnan,' we have his word and
promise, and this is sufficient." But when such men do
stand forth year after year, strong and trustworthy because
they fear God and love their neighbor as themselves, what
an honor is put upon them by the implicit, unquestioning
' " To bottom ourselves upon the all-sufficiency of God, for the accom-
plishment of such things as are altogether impossible to anything but
that all-sufficiency, is faith indeed, and worthy of our imitation." —
Owen's Sermon, on the Steadfastness of God's Promises,
WITHOUT SIGHT. 163
confidence which is felt in them — by the faith in the mere
person, without the sight of his ways and means.
Precisely so is it with faith in God. Just so far as we
withhold our confidence in him until we can see the wis-
dom of his ways, just so far do we dishonor him ; and just
in proportion as we trust in him because he is God, whether
we can perceive the reasons of his actions or not, do we
give glory to him. Suppose a sudden sorrow is sent from
his hand, that appears wholly dark and inexplicable — that
a missionary is cut down in the bloom of life, and in the
midst of great usefulness among an unevangelized and de-
graded population ; that a wise and kind father is taken
away from a family that leans entirel}'^ upon him. If in
these instances no questions are asked, and no doubts are
felt or expressed ; if the Church and the children of God
say with David : "I am dumb with silence because Thou
didst it," what an honor do they render to God by such
absolute confidence. And he so regards it, and accepts it,
and rewards it.
For the faith in such cases terminates upon the very
personality and nature of God. It passes by all secondary .
causes and agencies, and reposes upon the First Cause.
Oftentimes our faith is of such a mixed character, that it
honors the creature as much as the Creator. We exercise
confidence, partly because God has promised, and partly
because we see, or think we see, some earthly and human
grounds for faith. For example, if we expect that the
whole world will be Christianized, partly because of the
Divine promises and prophecies, and partly because the
wealth and civilization and military power of the earth
are in the possession of Christian nations, we honor the
creature in conjunction with the Creator ; and this is to
dishonor him, for he says : " My glory will I not give to
another." The faith of the Church is of the purest, high-
164 FAITH WITH AND
est kind, only when she trusts solely and simply in the
promise and power of her covenant God, and looks upon
all the favoring earthly circumstances as results, not as
supports, of this promise. The fact that Christian mis-
sions are being aided very materially by the wealth, and
civilization, and military power of the Protestant world,
is not an independent ground of confidence that Christian
missions will ultimately evangelize the earth. We must
not put any earthly and human agency into equality and
co-ordination with the Divine. The creature in itself is
nothing ; and it derives all its efficiency from God, who is
the first cause and last end of all things. Take away the
promises, and purposes, and controlling agency of God,
and where would be the wealth, the civilization, and mili-
tary power of Protestant Europe and America ? If we
rest our faith in a glorious future for our wretched world,
upon what these can accomplish by an independent agency ;
if we rest upon two arms, the arm of God, and the arm of
flesh, our faith is infirm, and it does no real honor to our
Maker. " Sufficient is Thine arm alone, and our defence
is sure." And it will be one of the signs of that mightier
faith which will herald the dawn of the millennium, when
the Church, leaving its mixed confidence in the Creator and
creature ; leaving its partial trust in wealth, civilization,
arts, sciences, commerce, armies, and navies, shall settle
down once more upon the one immutable ground of confi-
dence— the word, and the power, and the pity of the Ever-
lasting God. This was the mighty faith of the Early
Church. The civilization of the Greek and Roman world
was arrayed against them, and they could not lean upon it
in conjunction with God, if they would. They were shut up
to the mere power and promise of the Most High. They
leaned upon God's hare artn. And what honor did they
give Him in this ; and how did he honor them in return !
WITHOUT SIGHT. 165
We see, then, as the result of this discussion, that while
our brethren of the Patriarchal, Jewish, and Early-Chris-
tian eras found it easier, in some respects, to believe in
God and unseen realities, by reason of the supernatural
manifestations that were granted to them, we of these last
times enjoy the privilege of exercising a faith that is more
robust and firm because more purely spiritual, and a faith
that puts more honor upon God. Provided we do rise
above the clogs of the body and of sense ; provided we do
exercise a simple unwavering confidence in God as God,
in spite of all the outward infidelity of the day, and the
more dangerous inward infidelity of our imperfect hearts ;
we shall hear him saying to us : " Others have believed
because they have seen : blessed are ye, because ye have
not seen, and yet have believed."
From this subject, it is evident that God is the sole object
of faith. There is a difference between belief and faith ;
between believing, and believing ^n, and on^ and u^on.
We may believe a man ; we may believe an angel ; but
we may believe in and on God alone. Faith is the re-
cumbence, and resting, of the mind ; and the mind can
find no rest in a creature. All creatures stand upon a
level, so far as self-sufficiency is concerned ; and if we can-
not find rest in ourselves, how can we in a fellow-worm.
As we look into our own natures, and discover that they
are ignorant, weak, and sinful, and then look around for
what we lack, we shall never find it in a creature. All
creatures are ignorant, weak, and finite. Only God is wise,
mighty, and infinite. " Put not your trust in princes, nor
in the son of man in whom there is no help. Happy is
he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is
in the Lord his God."
Furthermore, if God is the sole object of faith, then we
must beware of a inixed or partial faith. We must not
166 FAITH WITH AND WITHOUT SIGHT.
trust partly in God, and partly in his creatures. He will
receive no divided honors. As in our justification by the
atonement, we cannot trust partly in the blood of Christ,
and partly in our own good works, so in our more general
relation to God, our confidence must not rest upon any
combination or union between Him and the works of his
hands. We are told by St. Paul, and we well know, that
Christ must be our sole atonement, and that we must not
attempt to add to his finished oblation by our own suf-
ferings, or deeds. Our absolution at the bar of justice
must be no composite affair ; depending partly upon what
our Substitute has done, and partly upon what we have
done. The whole, or none, is the rule here. And so must
be our faith in God. We must repose our whole weight
upon Him alone. Anything short of this, dishonors that
exalted and infinite Being who never enters into part-
nership with his creatures ; that All-sufficient Being, of
whom, and through whom, and to whom are all things.
We know these things, happy are we if we do them.
It is the highest accomplishment of the Christian life,
actually and perfectly to believe in God in Christ. We
are continually pulled back from this blessed and this
mighty act of faith, by our detestable pride and creature-
worship. It is a great art to desert the creature in all its
forms, and live and move in our Creator and Redeemer.
Especially is it a great, a divine art, to do this in reference
to our sin and guilt. Who shall teach us, when remorse
bites, and anxiety respecting the last account weighs us
down — who shall teach us how to believe in Christ, the
Lamb of God, without a scintilla of doubt, with an abso-
lute and undivided confidence ? He Himself must do this.
He is the author and the finisher of faith.
SERMON XI.
THE REALITY OF HEAVEN.
John xiv. 2. — "In my Father's honse are many mansions: if it
were not so, I would have told you."
All Scripture is profitable, and conduces to the growth
of the Christian. But some portions of it seem to be
more particularly adapted than others to certain stages of
his growth in the divine life, and certain experiences in
his history. In the season of affliction, the heart loves to
give itself utterance in the mourning and plaints of the
afflicted Psalmist. In the hour of joy, it pours forth the
flood of its thanksgiving and praise in the songs and an-
thems of the joyful Psalmist. If the believer feels the
need of instruction and exhortation, he turns to the ful-
ness and earnestness of the apostolic Epistles. If he needs
encouragement and hopefulness in view of the sin and mis-
ery of the human race, he listens to the voice of the
Prophets saying : " As the earth bringeth forth her bud,
and as the garden causeth the things that are sown in it to
spring forth : so the Lord God will cause righteousness and
peace to spring forth before all nations."
If, however, a singular interest attaches to any one por-
tion of the Bible more than to others, it is found in the
Gospels. These parts breathe a peculiar spirit, and exert
168 THE REALITY OF HEAVEN.
an uncommon influence upon the soul. The Christian
often resorts to them, for they bring him into the personal
presence of his Lord, and his spirit burns within him as
Christ talks with him on the way to heaven. He enters
into the house with his Master, and walks with him by
the sea shore, and hears words that come directly from the
month of God incarnate. He is thus brought near to the
Infinite Being without trembling or terror, because the in-
finitude and glory are enshrouded in the garments of
meekness and condescension. That awful fear of God as
the Dread Unknown, which throws such a sombre color
over the religions of the pagan world, is banished ; for
Christ is the only begotten of the Father, and full of grace
and truth. By means of the Gospels, the believer con-
verses with the Eternal One, as a man converses with his
friend.
And of the Gospels, that of John is the most full of
this kind of influence. He was the beloved disciple, and
his is the beloved Gospel. He seems to have had granted
to him a more direct and clear vision of the heart of the
Redeemer, than was allowed to the other disciples. He
leaned upon his breast at supper, and appears to have at-
tained a fuller knowledge than did the others, of the mys-
terious and fathomless nature of the God-man.
l^ot only does this Gospel present to the contemplation
of the believer themes of love and grace, but it everywhere
offers to the human intellect the highest themes of truth
and unsearchable wisdom. Its exordium is mysterious;
revealing, in a way that no other part of Scripture does,
the doctrine of the Triune God, and giving the fullest un-
folding of the mystery that has yet been granted to the
finite mind. And, running through the whole narrative,
there is a series of high and deep disclosures concerning
the being of God, and the problems of human destiny, that
THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. 169
renders this Gospel the most profound of all books.' At
the same time, while it is unsearchably mysterious, it is
wonderfully soothing in its influence upon the soul. Like
the Holy Ghost, it may well be called the " Comforter."
Full of deep wisdom, and full of deep love ; full of mys-
tery, and full of quickening instruction ; full of the awf ul-
ness and infinitude of Deity, and full of the beauty and
winning grace of a perfect humanity ; the Gospel of John
will ever be the solace and joy of the Christian in his lofti-
est and lowliest moods. He will always feel the truthful-
ness of the language in which the childlike Claudius de-
scribes his emotions while perusing this Gospel : " I have
from my youth up delighted to read the Bible, but
especially the Gospel of John. There is something in it
exceedingly wonderful ; twilight and night, and through
them the quick flash of lightning ; soft evening-clouds,
and behind the clouds, the full-orbed moon. There is
something, also, so high, and mysterious, and solemn, that
one cannot become weary. It seems to me in reading the
Gospel of John, as if I saw him at the last supper leaning
upon the breast of his Master, and as if an angel were
holding my lamp, and at certain passages wished to whis-
per something in my ear. I am far from understanding
all that 1 read ; yet it seems as if the meaning were hover-
ing in the distance before my mind's eye. And even when
I look into an entirely dark passage, I have an intimation
of a great and glorious meaning within it which I shall
one day understand." ^
Among the varied moods that are addressed and
comforted by the teaching of the Gospel of John, is that
' Bengel remarks of Johu xvii. : *• This chapter, of all the chapters in
Scripture, is the easiest in reg^r4 to the words, the most profound in re-
gard to the ideas meant."
2 Claudius; Werke, Bd. I. 9.
8
170 THE REALITY OF HEAVEN.
timorous and desponding temper which is produced by the
fear of an exchange of worlds. Nothing contributes more
directly to calm and assure the mind, than meditation
upon those last discourses of our Lord which speak in such
a majestic and sublime tone, and yet breathe a gracious,
benign, and tranquillizing spirit. In them, the Eternal
and Divine is strangely blended with the Finite and
Human ; so that the soul which receives their warm im-
pression is both inspired with confidence in the Almighty
Teacher, and love for the human friend. It is related
that a strong and mighty mind on drawing near to the
confines of eternity, and feeling the need of some unearthly
and celestial support when flesh and heart were failing,
was reminded by a friend of the beauty of the Scriptures,
and of those general characteristics of revelation which so
often blind the eye to the more special and peculiar truths
of Christianity. He made answer — hastily interrupting
his friend — " Tell me not of the beauties of the Bible. I
would give more for the seventeenth chapter of John's
Gospel than for all of them."
In meditating upon the utterance of our Lord recorded
by St. John in the text, let us notice, in the first place, the
familiar acquaintance with the heavenly world which is
indicated by the words : " My Father's house ; " secondly,
the definiteness of this world denoted by the words:
" Many mansions ; " and, thirdly, its reality taught in the
assertion : " If it were not so, I would have told you."
I. In the first place, the words, " My Father's house,"
betoken the most 'n\i\n\2iie fmniliarity with heaven. It is
the home of Christ, Nothing more conclusively evinces
the difference between Jesus Christ and other men who
have lived and died upon the earth, than the confidence
and certainty with which he spoke of the invisible world.
Not only is there no doubt or hesitation in his views as
THE EEALITY OF HEAVEN. 171
expressed in his language, but there is no ignorance. He
never says : " Now I know in part," On the contrary, we
feel that he knew much more than he has disclosed ; and
that if he had chosen to do so, he could have made yet
more specific revelations concerning the solemn world be-
yond the tomb. For all other men, there are two worlds
— the one here and the other beyond. Their utterances
respecting this visible and tangible sphere are positive and
certain ; but respecting the invisible realm they guess, and
they hope, or they doubt altogether. But for our Lord,
there was, practically, only one world. He is as certain in
respect to the invisible as to the visible ; and knows as fully
concerning tlie one as the other. No mind unassisted by
revelation ever reached the pitch of faith in the unseen
and eternal that was attained by Socrates. But he was
assailed by doubts ; and he confesses his ignorance of the
region beyond the tomb. After that lofty and solemn
description in the Phsedo (113, 114) of the different places
assigned after death, to the good, the incorrigibly bad,
and those who have led a middle life between the two, he
adds : " To affirm positivel}^, indeed, that these things are
exactly as I have described them, does not become a man
of discernment. But that either this or something of the
kind takes place in regard to our souls and their habitation
— seeing that the soul is evidently immortal ' — appears to
me most fitting to be believed, and worthy of hazard for
one who trusts in the reality. For the hazard is noble,
and it is right to charm ourselves with such views as with
enchantments." How different is the impression made
upon us by these noble but hesitating words, from that
which was made upon John the Baptist by our Lord's
' ^aiVerai oZaa iddvarov. SaysVigerus, in loco, (paivofiai often has a
signification of certainty.
172 THE BEALITY OF HEAVEN.
manner and teaching upon such points, as indicated in his
testimony : " He that cometh from above, is above all : he
that is of the earth is earthly, and speaketh of the earth :
he that cometh from heaven is above all : and what lie
hath seen and heard, that he testifieth." Howj^ifferent is
Plato's dimness of perception, and only hopeful conjecture
respecting another life, from the calm and authoritative
utterance of Him who said to Nicodemus : " We speak
that we do know, and testify that we have seen. And no
man hath ascended up to heaven but he that came down
from heaven, even the Son of man who is in heaven." How
different is the utterance of the human philosopher from
that of Him who said to the cavilling Jews : " I am from
above, ye are from beneath ; I go my way, and whither
I go ye cannot come ; I proceeded forth, and came from
God ; Doth this offend you ? What and if ye shall see the
Son of man ascend up where he was before ? " How dif-
ferent are the words of Socrates from the language of Him
who in a solemn prayer to the Eternal God spake the
words, blasphemous if falling from the lips of any merely
finite being : " O Father, glorify thou me with thine own
self, with the glory which I had with thee before the
world was." Christ, then, speaks of heaven and immortal
life as an eye-witness. The eternal world was no " dim,
undiscovered country " for him ; and therefore his words
and tones are those of one who was "native, and to the
manner born."
There are periods in the believer's life when he needs
to cling hold of this fact, that his perturbation may be
calmed. The viewless world of spirit has never been en-
tered by any mortal who has been permitted to return
and divulge its secrets. So long as man is in the ilesh,
and accustomed only to objects of sense, it is a most baf-
fling and mysterious world for him, and a shadowy solem-
THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. 173
nity invests it. He is not familiar with its scenes and
objects. Nay, he is so habituated to that which can be
seen and handled, that the very terms " spirit " and " spir-
itual " have come to denote the vague, the unknown, the
unfamiliar, and the fearful. Without Revelation, the
world beyond is eminently a " dim, undiscovered country."
The Ancients, it is true, peopled it with the shades of the
departed, and divided it into the regions of the blest and
the regions of the unblest ; but they still felt it to be an
unknown land, and a dark, mysterious air veiled it from
their vision. The dying heathen, notwithstanding the
popular faith and the popular teachings respecting the
future life, dreaded to go over into it, not merely because
of the guilt in his conscience which caused him to fear a
righteous retribution, but also because of his uncertainty
and ignorance. He turned his glazing, dying eye back to
the visible world, and longed for the continuance of a life
which, though it was full of unsatisf action and wretched-
ness, was yet invested with clearness and familiarity.* He
recoiled at the prospect of being hurried away from the
bright sunlight, and the ' green earth, into the obscurity
and darkness of the world of shades. The pagan or in-
stinctive view of death, and the future world, is vividly
delineated by the great dramatic poet in the feeling utter-
ance of Claudio :
" Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit
' Says Achilles to Ulysses in the lower regions : "Speak not auothi^T
word of comfort concerning death, O noble Ulysses ! I would far rather
till the field as a day laborer, a needy man without inheritance or prop-
erty, than rule over the whole realm of the departed. " — Odyssey XI.
488.
174 THE KEALITY OF HEAVEN.
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ;
To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and uncertain thoughts
Imagine howling ! 'tis too horrible !
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death."
Although man enlightened by Revelation has a much
more definite knowledge respecting the future life, he is
not entirely divested of this sense of uncertainty about his
future existence. Though the gospel has brought life and
immortality to light ; has shot some rays into the gloom
of eternity ; man still feels that it is an unfamiliar world.
How and what he shall be when his spirit is disembodied,
he knows not. He is ignorant of the mode of existence
upon the other side of the tomb. Living in the light of
Christianity, knowing certainly that there is another world
than this, and that Christ came out from it and dwelt for
a time in this world, and then " ascended up where he was
before," man is still filled with some of the dread that
overshadows the heathen, and like liim clings with earnest-
ness and nervousness to this visible and diurnal sphere.
And for many men dwelling in Christendom, the other
reason for dread that exists in the case of the pagan is also
existing. The merely nominal Christian, like the pagan,
knows that there is unpardoned sin upon the soul, and the
pale realms of eternity are therefore, as were the gates of
paradise for the departing Adam and Eve,
" With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms."
Though the believer ought to be raised by his faith
THE KEALITY OF HEAVEINT. 175
above all these fears, and the future life should be familiar
as his own home to him, yet he is often conscious of un-
certainty and misgiving when he thinks of an exchange of
worlds. He cannot at all times confidently say : " It is
my Father's house." He has little positive hope and
desire to enter it. He does not steadily and habitually
seek a better country, even a heavenly. He, too often,
clings to life with anxiety, and the summons to depart
sends perturbation and trembling through his soul. It is
a mysterious world, and although he professes to have a
God and Kedeemer within it, yet he fears to enter.
'Now the words of our Savior : '• My Father's house,"
should calm and encourage us. We should believe with a
simple and unquestioning faith, that they really indicate
the nature of the spiritual world for the Christian — that
eternity for the disciple of Christ is Jiome. They should
also invest the future world with clearness and familiarity.
It should not be for us a vague and mystical realm, but
our most cheerful home-thoughts should gather around it ;
we should cherish the home-feeling regarding it ; and to
our inward eye, it should present the distinctness and at-
tractions of a father's house. That this may be the case
with us, it is not in the least necessary to know the exact
mode of our future existence. It is enough to know that
the " Lord Jesus Christ shall change our vile body, that it
may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to
the energy whereby he is able even to subdue all things
unto himself." It is enough to know that " when he shall
appear, we shall be like him : for we shall see him as he
is." We need only to believe the words of our Savior :
" In my Father's house are many mansions." We need
nothing but that unquestioning spirit which rests upon the
word and power of an omniscient God and Redeemer, and
which commends itself to the guardianship of Him who
176 THE REALITY OF HEAVEN.
has promised to be with his Church, and with every mem-
ber of it, " always, even unto the end of the world."
II. In the second place, we are to notice the definiteness
of the spiritual world, indicated by the words : " Many
mansions." This language does not denote a dim, airy im-
mensity ; an unlimited ether in which the disembodied
spirits shall wander ; a shadowy realm in which ghosts
pale and silent shall flit to and fro, like bats in twilight.
Our spirits are finite and individual, and we start back at
the thought of a dreamy existence diffused through a
vague and indefinite infinitude. We recoil at the thought
of a fluctuating and unfixed mode of being. Though flesh
and blood cannot enter the kingdom of God, and we ought
not to look for the material objects of this planet in a
spiritual world, yet both Scripture and the profound in-
stincts of our minds affirm a body for the clothing of our
spirits, and a definite residence adapted to it. There is
that within us which dreads a slumbering and uncertain
mode of being. We are persons, and we instinctively de-
sire the existence of a person, and a dwelling-place amidst
personal relationships and circumstances.
The phrase " many mansions " denotes that there is a
definite and appropriate residence beyond the tomb, for
our finite and distinctly personal spirits ; a residence in
which they can unfold their powers in a well-defined and
self-conscious manner ; in which they can think, and know,
and feel as vividly as they do here ; in which as happy
individualities they can look upon the face of a personal
God and worship him ; in which as blessed intelligences
they can apprehend his excellence, and glorify him for-
evermore.
With all the spirituality with which the Word of God
describes the abodes of the blest, there is imited a remark-
able clearness. In all other books, the great hereafter
THE REALITY OF HEAVEN. 177
looks dim, strange, and forbidding ; but in the Bible it
appears real, natural, and life-like. In representing the
kingdom of God as spiritual, Kevelation keeps in view the
wants of a finite creature, and therefore heaven is where
the face of God shines with a more effulgent brightness
than elsewhere, and where there is the most marked and
impressive consciousness of his presence. There are
times, even in the Christian life upon earth, when the veil
is partially withdrawn, and that august Being whom man
is prone to picture to himself as like the all-pervading air,
or the mystic principle of life in nature, reveals speaking
lineaments, and a living eye that meets his eye ; moments
when the finite spirit meets the Infinite face to face, and
glances of Divine love and approbation send ineffable
peace through it. And such, only in a perfect degree,
will be the relation which the believer will sustain to God
in the future life. He will see Him as He is. He will be
a child, and God will be a Father. His existence will
be that of distinct and blessed self-consciousness. He
will dwell in " mansions."
III. In the third place, we are to note the reality of the
heavenly world, denoted by the remark of our Lord : " If
it were not so, I would have told you."
Man, here below, lives so entirely among sensible things,
and meditates so little upon spiritual objects, that he comes
to look upon that which is spiritual as unreal, and upon
material things as the only realities. For most men,
houses, and lands, and gold are more real than God and
the soul. The former address the five senses, whereas
" no man hath seen God at any time," and the soul is not
apprehensible by any sensuous organ. Yet the invisible
God is more real than any other being, for he is the cause
and ground of all other existence. It was an invisible
Mind that made the material chaos from nothing, and
8*
178 THE KEALITY OF HEAVEN.
brooded over it, and formed it into an orderly and beauti-
ful cosmos. The invisible is more firmly substantial than
the visible. " The things which are seen were not made
of things which are seen ; the things which are seen are
temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal."
Still, it cannot be denied that mankind reverse all this, and
look upon spiritual things and the invisible world as very
unreal and phantom-like. They do not have sufficient
faith in an unseen future life, to live for it ; and they do
not regard it as so real and important, that their whole
earthly existence should be devoted to a preparation for it.
Kow, it is from such a mass of earthly and sensuous men,
holding such views of the invisible, that the Christian is
taken. He is born into the new spiritual kingdom, and
professes to believe that God is, and that the soul verily
is, and that heaven and hell are everlasting realities ; but
still the views and mental habits of the old carnal nature
cling to him. He finds it difficult to live habitually with
reference to eternity, to be continually conscious of the
presence of God, and to act with an unwavering certainty
of heaven. He is still much possessed by the spirit of this
world, too frequently he finds his home among its vanities,
and he attaches too much value to its objects. Hence,
when the prospect of an entrance into eternity opens be-
fore him, he feels unprepared. He needs time that he
may fix his thoughts upon God and invisible things, in
order to realize that God is, and feel that he is going into
a world more solid and satisfying than the one he is leav-
ing. He has lived too carnal a life ; he is not so spirit-
ually minded as he should be, and his conversation has not
habitually been in heaven; and therefore it seems to him
as if he were entering a cheerless and ghostly realm.
Thus the unfaithful Christian is surprised by death, and
perturbation comes over him as he lies down to die. He
THE EEALITY OF HEAVEN. 179
is not so much at home in eternity as he is in time ; and
hence he is in bondage to the fear of death, and shrinks
from the exchange of worlds.
One remedy for such a state of mind, for such a practi-
cal unbelief in God and heaven, is to be found in medita-
tion upon the words of Him who came down from heaven,
and who is in heaven. " If it were not so," says our Lord,
" if there were not many mansions in heaven ; if it were
not my home, and the home of my Father, and of the holy
angels, and of the spirits of just men made perfect; I
would have told you, I would have undeceived you." This
is the language of the Redeemer to his disciples, spoken
that they might not be troubled or afraid at the prospect
of his departure from them to God, or at the thought of
their own departure out of this world. This voice of his
sounds encouragement, through all ages, to the body of
believers. It issues from the " mansions " of heaven, and
for aU who hear it, it is a voice that cheers and animates.
It comes forth from the invisible world, and bids the
Christian prepare to enter it ; to expect the entrance with
a hopeful and cheerful temper ; nay, to be longing for the
time when he shall go into the presence of God unclothed
of the mortal and sinful, and clothed upon with the im-
mortal and the holy.
It is evident from this unfolding of the subject, that the
Christian needs an increase of faith. If he profoundly be-
lieved that God is his Father, and loves him ; that Christ
is his Saviour, and intercedes for him ; that the Holy
Spirit is his Sanctifier, and dwells in his heart — if he pro-
foundly believed what the Word of God commands him to
believe, that all the mercy and power of the triune God-
head is working out the eternal salvation of his soul, and
that the Godhead dwells in a real and blessed world, and
is preparing him for an entrance into it that he may be a
180 THE REALITY OF HEAVEN.
priest and a king there forever — if he believed this with
an undoiibting and abiding faith, he would go through this
life "tasting the powers of the world to come." And
when the hour came to depart hence, he would leap for
joy because his salvation draws nigh ; because he is soon
to experience the truth of that glowing declaration : " Eye
hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into
the heart of man to conceive the things that God hath pre-
pared for them that love him."
We should therefore pray, as did the disciples of our
Lord, for an increase of faith ; and we should cultivate
this particular habit and grace. Let us fix these particu-
lar truths and facts in our minds, and habitually ponder
them : That heaven is a reality, if it were not, Christ
would have told his followers so ; that the dwelling-place
of God must be an actual and happy abode ; that our
Father'a^. house is adapted to the wants and capacities of
our finite personal spirits; and that its " mansions " are
open to receive them when they leave the body. Let us
believe and doubt not, that for all who are in Christ there
is an ineffable blessedness in reserve, and that it will never
end ; that all who sleep in Jesus shall " with open eye be-
hold the glory of the Lord, and be changed into the same
image from glory to glory by the Spirit of the Lord."
SEEMON XIL
PUEE MOTIVES THE LIGHT OF THE SOUL.
Matthew vi. 22. — " The light of the body is the eye ; if therefore
thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light."
The human eye is the most striking and expressive
feature in the human constitution. Of all the physical
organs, it is the one that is closest to the soul. Though
composed of flesh and hlood, of muscles and tissues — the
toughest of muscles, and the most reticulated of tissues —
it nevertheless seems to be half spiritual and immaterial.
A man's hand, a man's foot, is hard matter, is solid stupid
flesh and blood ; but a man's eye gleams with ethereal fire,
and his very soul radiates from it. The science of phren-
ology seeks the mind in the skull ; but it would have been
more successful in deducing human character from the
physical structure, if it had studied that organ of vision
which is always instinct with the soul and the soul's life.
The skull of some animals approximates in its form to
that of man ; as the many attempts to trace a connection
between man and the brute prove. But no brute's eye
approximates in its expression to that of the human being.
The eye of the ox is large, liquid, and soft ; and the old
Greek called the queen of the Olympian heavens the " ox-
eyed Juno." But there is no morality, no human intelli-
gence, and no human affection, in it. The ideas of God,
182 PUEE MOTIVES THE
and law, and conscience, are not written in the eje-ball of
the ox as they are in that of every living man. Look
into the eye of the faitliful dog, or the patient ox, and
you perceive a blank in reference to all that higher range
of being, and that higher class of ideas, which lies at the
basis of accountability and religion. But look into the
eye of the African or the Esquimaux, and through all
the d Illness and torpor there gleams out upon you an ex-
pression, a glance, that betokens that this creature is not a
mere animal, but is moral, is rational, is human.
" The light of the body," says our Lord in the text, " is
the eye." This is a strong statement. Our Lord does
not say that the eye is the instrument by which light is
perceived, but that it is the light itself. And there cer-
tainly is a striking resemblance between the nature of the
eye and that of light. The eye is adapted and precon-
formed to the solar ray. The crystalline lens, the watery
humor, the tense silvery coating — everything that enters
into the structure of this wonderful instrument of vision —
has resemblances and alBnities with that lucid shining ele-
ment, the light of the sun. Plotinus long ago remarked
that the eye could not see the sun, unless it had some-
thing solar, or sun-like, in its own composition. Mere
opaque flesh and blood has no power of vision. We can-
not see with the hand or the foot. In this sense, then,
the eye is the light of the body. The original Greek word
{Xv^i^os:) in the text, which is translated light, litei-ally
signifies a lamp. The human eye is a burning lamp placed
inside of the human body, like a candle behind a trans-
parency, by which this " muddy vesture of decay," this
dark opaque materialism of the human frame is lighted
up. " The lamp of the body is the eye ; therefore when
thine eye is single, thy whole body also is full of light;
but when thine eye is evil, thy body also is full of dark-
LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 183
ness. If thy whole body, therefore, be full of light,
having no part dark, the whole shall be full of light, as
when the bright shining of a candle doth give thee light."
(Luke xi. 34, 36.)
But in employing this illustration it was not the pur-
pose of our Lord to teach optics. It is true that his words
agree incidentally with optical investigation ; even as all
the incidental teachings of Revelation concerning the
material universe will be found to harmonize with the
facts, when they shall finally be discovered by the groping
and disputing naturalist. But the Son of God became in-
carnate for a higher object than to teach the natural
sciences. Our Lord's casual allusions to the structui-e of
earth, and of man, are made only for the purpose of
throwing light upon a more mysterious organization than
that of the human eye, and of solving problems infinitely
more important than any that relate to the laws and pro-
cesses of the perishing material universe.
The great Teacher, in his Sermon on the Mount from
which the text is taken, had been enjoining it upon his
disciples to live not for time but for eternity. " Lay not
up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and
rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and
steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven,
where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where
thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your
treasure is, there will your heart be also." (Matt. vi. 19-
21.) This devotion to the concerns and realities of another
and better world than this, Christ also tells his disciples,
must be single-minded and absorbing. " No man can
serve two masters ; for either he will hate the one, and
love the other, or else he will hold to the one, and despise
the other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon." (Matt,
vi. 24.) The illustration borrowed from the human eye
184 PURE MOTIVES THE
comes between these two thoughts, in St. Matthew's re-
port of our Lord's instructions to his disciples ; showing
that by it, he intended to ilhistrate and enforce the neces-
sity of singleness of purpose in the Christian life and
profession. As the eye must not see double, but must be
" single," in order that the body may be full of light ;
so there must be no double-mind, no wavering purpose,
no impure motive, if the Christian would not walk in
darkness.
We are, therefore, led by the connection of thought in
our Lord's discourse, to consider the clear, luminous, and
crystalline eye as a symbol of a pure, sincere, and single
motive. And we propose in two particulars, to show that
as the eye is the light of the body, BOjmre motives are the
light of the soul.
By a pure motive is meant one that is founded in a sin-
cere desire to honor God. Christian men are sometimes
troubled to know whether their purposes and intentions
are upright. They fear that they are sinister, and mixed
with corruption. But the test is easy and sure. Let the
person ask himself the question : " Do I in this thing
honestly seek to exalt ray Maker, and advance his cause
in the world ? " IE this can be answered in the affirm-
ative, it precludes both pride and sensuality — the love of
human applause, and the love of worldly enjoyment —
which are the two principal lusts that vitiate human
motives. By a pure motive, then, is meant one that is
founded in the sole desire to glorify God ; and of such an
one we confidently affirm that it is the light of the soul.
I. In the first place, it is the light of the soul, because
it relieves the mind of doubts concerning the path of
duty.
The single-eyed desire to please and honor God is a sure
guide to a Christian, when he is perplexed in regard to the
LiaHT OF THE SOUL. 185
course of action that he ought to pursue. There are many
instances in which it is difficult to decide what is the path
of duty. There is nothing in the nature of the thing, or
of the case, that settles the question ; and, therefore, the
only mode in which it can be settled is to raise the ques-
tion respecting the personal intention.
Suppose, for illustration, that a Christian man, by that
course of events which is the leading of Providence, is
called to consider the proposition to change his place of
residence, or to engage in another occupation or line of
business. There is nothing intrinsically right or wrong
in either of these measures. There is no moral quality in
them; and therefore he cannot determine in respect to
them from their intrinsic character, as he can when the
proposition to lie, or to steal, or to do an act that is evil
in itself, is presented to him. He must, therefore, if he
would carry his Christianity into his whole life, and have
it penetrate all his plans and movements — he must, there-
fore, in deciding what is duty in such instances as these,
raise the question : How shall I most exalt God in the
promotion of his cause in the world ?
Suppose, again, that a young Christian is called upon to
decide what his course in life shall be ; whether he shall
devote it to secular or sacred pursuits ; whether he shall go
into the market-place and buy and sell and get gain, or
whether he shall go into the pulpit and preach the gospel
to sinful men. Now, there is nothing in the mere prose-
cution of trade or commerce that is intrinsically right or
intrinsically wrong ; and neither is there anything holy,
per se, in the calling of a clergyman. Everything depends
upon the motive with which each is pursued. And the
question by which this young Christian shall decide
whether he shall be a layman or a clergyman, is the ques-
tion : In which calling can I most glorify God ?
186 PURE MOTIVES THE
These are specimens of an unlimited number of cases in
which the Christian is called to decide respecting the path
of duty, when the cases themselves do not furnish the
clue. This whole wide field is full of perplexity, unless
we carry into it that clear, crystalline eye which fills the
body full of light ; that pure motive which is a suie guide
through the tangled pathway. The Romish casuist has
dug over this whole field, but it has yielded him very little
good fruit, and very much that is evil. Instead of put-
ting the conscience upon its good behavior; instead of
telling his pupil to settle all such perplexity by the simple,
evangelical maxim: "Whether therefore ye eat, or drink,
or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God ; " instead
of insisting first and chiefly upon the possession and the
maintenance of a pure motive and a godly intention ; the
Romish casuist has attempted to discover an intrinsic mo-
rality in thousands of acts that have none, and to furnish a
long catalogue of them all, in which the scrupulous and
anxious soul shall find a rule ready made, and which he
shall follow mechanically and servilely.
Perhaps there is no part of this field of human duty and
responsibility, that more needs the clear shining light
of a pure motive and intention, than that which includes
the intercourse between religious men and the men of the
world. The Church of Christ is planted in the midst of
an earthly and an irreligious generation. It cannot escape
this. St. Paul told the Christians of his day, that they
could not avoid the temptations of pagan society except
by going out of the world ; and it is still as true as ever,
that the Church must be exposed to the lust of the flesh,
and the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, so long as it
dwells here in space and time. And this fact renders it
necessary for the Christian to decide many difiicult and
perplexing questions in morals and religion. They arose
LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 187
in the days of the apostles. Sincere and scrupulous be-
lievers were in doubt whether they should eat of meat
that had constituted a part of a sacrificial victim offered in
an idol's temple ; and whether they should observe, or
should not observe, the sacred days of the old Jewish dis-
pensation. These things had in them no intrinsic moral-
ity ; while yet the questions that were involved in them
affected the purity and whole future growth of the Church.
St. Paul laid down the rule by which they were to be
settled. " Meat commendeth us not to God : for neither
if we eat are we the better ; neither, if we eat not, are we
the worse. But take heed lest by any means this liberty
of yours become a stumbling-block to them that are weak."
The Christian must beware lest, by insisting upon his own
personal rights, he hinder the progress of the gospel.
There was nothing good or bad, in itself considered, in
this partaking of food that had come into external connec-
tion with the abominations of idolatry and paganism.
But if a Christian, by asserting and using his unques-
tionable right and liberty in a matter like this, should
either directly or indirectly injure the cause of Christ, he
must forego his personal right and yield his personal lib-
erty. Says the noble and holy apostle Paul : " If my eat-
ing of meat — which is both my right and my liberty, so
far as my own conscience is concerned — if my eating of
meat interferes in any way with the spirituality and growth
in grace of any professing Christian, I will eat no meat
while the world stands." He decides the right and the
wrong in such instances, not by the intrinsic quality of the
act, nor by his own right and liberty as a private person
to perform it, but by the moral and religious influence
upon others, and thus, ultimately, by his own personal
motives in the case. He desires and intends in every ac-
tion to glorify God, and promote his cause in the world ;
188 PURE MOTIVES THE
and this pure intention guides him unerringly through
that field of casuistry which, without this clue, is so per-
plexing and bewildering.
Now, how beautifully does all this apply to the inter-
course which the Church must hold with the world, and
to that class of questions that arise out of this intercourse.
A Christian man must mingle more or less in unchristian
society. He is brought in contact with the manners and
customs, the usages and habits, the pleasures and amuse-
ments of a generation that is worldly, that fears not God,
and is destitute of the meekness and spirituality of Christ.
A thousand perplexing inquiries respecting the path of
duty necessarily arise ; and they must be answered. Let
him now look at them with that clear, honest, open eye,
which is the light of the body. Let him decide upon the
course which he shall pursue, in any given instance, by
the illumination of a simple, single purpose to honor the
Lord Christ and promote the Christian religion in the
world. If this be in him and abound, he cannot go
astray. To him it may be said, as the prophet Nathan
said to David : " Do all that is in thy heart " — act as you
please — " for the Lord is with thee."
It is easy to perceive that the application of such a
maxim as that of the apostle : " Whether therefore ye eat,
or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God,"
would pour a light upon any possible question of duty that
could not lead astray. No man will run much hazard of
taking a wrong step in morals, or religion, whose eye is
single, and steadily directed toward the honor of his
Maker. It is possible, indeed, for him to err in judg-
ment, for he is human and uninspired, but it is not very
probable. And even if, owing to human infirmity, he
should be mistaken in a perplexing and difficult case, it will
be an error of the head and not of the heart. If it was
LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 189
really his desire and intention to please God and promote
his cause in the world ; if the Searcher of the heart saw
that he meant well ; then the will will be accepted for the
deed. " For where there is a willing mind, it is accepted
according to what a man hath, and not according to what
he hath not." But errors of judgment will be very rare
on the part of one who is actuated by a pure motive. He
will walk in the light, and be one of the children of light.
" He that loveth his brother," says St. John, " abideth in
the light, and there is none occasion of stumbling in him."
It is the effect of a genuinely benevolent and fraternal feel-
ing toward a fellow-man, to prevent all misunderstand-
ings, or to remove them if they exist. There can be no
double-dealing where there is brotherly love. In like
manner, if the soul is full of pure affection for God, and
of a simple desire to honor him, there can be no occasion
of stumbling in the path of duty. Such a soul walks un-
der the broad, bright light of noon-day.
II. In the second place, a pure motive is the light of
the soul, because it relieves the mind of doubts concern-
ing religious doctrine.
In every age of the world, there is more or less per-
plexity in men's minds respecting religious truth. Pilate's
question : " "What is truth ? " is asked by many a soul in
every generation. Although Christianity has been a dom-
inant religion in the world for eighteen centuries ; although
it has left its record and stamp upon all the best civiliza-
tion and progress of mankind ; although it has conducted
millions of souls, through the gloom and sorrow of earth
and time, to a peaceful death and a hope full of immor-
tality ; and although there is confessedly nothing else to
take its place, in case it be an imposture and a lie ; yet
some men still doubt, and are in perplexity to know if it
really be the way, and the truth, and the life. This is
190 PURE MOTIVES THE
skepticism in its extreme form. But it may assume a
milder type. There may be no doubt in regard to the
truthfulness of Christianity so far as its principles agree
with those of natural religion, and there may still be a
strong doubt in regard to the evangelical doctrines. A man
may believe that there is a God ; that right and wrong are
eternal contraries ; that the soul is immortal ; that virtue
will be rewarded, and vice will be punished in another
world ; and yet doubt whether there is a triune God ;
whether man is apostate and totally depraved ; whether
the Son of God became man, and died on the cross to
make atonement for human guilt ; whether a man must be
born again in order to a happy eternity. Many are per-
plexed with doubts upon these evangelical doctrines, as they
are called, and at times would give much to know if they
are in very deed the absolute and eternal verities of God.
Now we say that a pure motive, a single sincere pur-
pose to exalt God, will do much toward clearing away
these doubts. " If any man," says our Lord, " will do his
will, he shall know of the doctrine." It is impossible in
a single discourse to take up these truths of revealed re-
ligion one by one, and show how a pure motive will flare
light upon each and every one of them, and teach a man
what he ought to believe and hold. We will, therefore,
select only one of them, and make it the crucial test by
which to try them all.
There is no doctrine about which the doubts and skep-
ticism, nay, the sincere perplexity of men, hovers more
continually, than about the doctrine that man is by nature
depraved and deserving of eternal punishment. Prob-
ably, if the world of unbelievers could be convinced of the
truth of this particular tenet, their doubt and unbelief
upon all the other doctrines would yield. This is the cit-
adel in the fortress of unbelief.
LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 191
'Now let a man look at this doctrine of the gnilt and
corruption of man, as it is stated in the Christian Scrip-
tures, and as it is presupposed by the whole economy of
Redemption, and ask himself the question, whether he will
most honor God by adopting it, or by combating and re-
jecting it. Let him remember that if he denies the doc-
trine of human guilt and corruption, he nullifies the whole
Christian system, because he who nullifies the sin of man
nullifies the redemption of the Son of God. St. Paul
told the Corinthians, that if there were no resurrection of
the dead, then Christ had not risen ; and if Christ had not
risen, the faith of every one who had believed in him was
vain. In like manner, if man is not a lost sinner, then
there is no Divine Saviour and no eternal salvation, for
none is needed. There are no superfluities in the universe
of God. Whoever, therefore, denies the reality of a sin
in the human race which necessitated the incarnation and
atoning death of the Son of God, puts upon God that great
dishonor of disputing his veracity which is spoken of by
St. John : " If we say that we have not sinned, we make
him a liar, and his word is not in us. He that believeth
not God, hath made him a liar, because he believeth not
the record that God gave of his Son." (1 John i. 10 ; v.
10.) But the " record " spoken of is the doctrine that man
is a lost sinner — so utterly lost that no one but the eternal
Son of God can save him ; and even He can do this only
by pouring out his atoning life-blood. Now can any man
desire and purpose to glorify God, while disputing Divine
Revelation and denying the apostasy and sin of mankind,
respecting which God has left such a clear record in his
Word, and which constitutes the only rational ground for
the death of the Lord Jesus Christ ?
No, it is the confession and not the denial of human de-
pravity that glorifies God. Two men went up into the
192 PURE MOTIVES THE
temple to pray, one of whom acknowledged the guilt and
corruption of man, and the other denied it ; and we are
informed by the highest authority that the prayer of the
former was well-pleasing to the Most High, and that of
the latter was an abomination to Him. The men who
glorify God are possessed of the publican's spirit. They
do not adopt the pharisee's theory of human nature.
They cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner." And the
declaration concerning them from the lips of the Eternal
is : " To this man will I look, even to him that is poor,
and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word." (Is.
Ixvi. 2.)
In settling the question, therefore, respecting the unwel-
come doctrine of human depravity and its endless punish-
ment, a pure motive will pour a flood of light. If this one
thing alone could but be introduced into the heart of the
doubter himself, we have small fear that the most humbling,
and in some respects the most difficult, truth in the Chris-
tian system, would be accepted. If the mind of the skeptic,
or of the groping and really perplexed inquirer, could but
be filled with an absorbing concern for the Divine honor ;
if every such one could but be brought to sympathize with
St. Paul when he cried : " Let God be true, and every
man a liar ; " we would leave it with him to say which is
the absolute and indisputable truth — the doctrine of human
virtue, or the doctrine of human sin.
Employ, then, this test and criterion of religious doc-
trine. Ask yourself the question, in reference to any
and every tenet that challenges your attention, or solicits
your credence, " Does its adoption glorify God ? " The
arguments for the Christian system — and by the Chris-
tian system we mean evangelical Christianity — are strong,
and grow stronger as the ages wear away. But there is
one argument too often overlooked, or underestimated.
LIGHT OF THE SOUL. 193
It is the fact that this system exalts God, and properly
abases man. We find an evidence of its divinity in this
very thing. All the natm-al religions, all the wild re-
ligions of the globe, reverse this. They exalt the creatm*e,
and abase, yea debase, the Creator. Like the old Ptole-
maic astronomy, like their own absurd theories of the ma-
terial world, they place the little world of man at the
centre of the boundless universe. Christianity, like the
Copernican system, restores everything to its right rela-
tions, and arranges everything about its real and true
centre. God is first, last, and midst. Of him, through
him, and to him, are all things. The first question, there-
fore, to be asked concerning every doctrine, and every
system, is the question : " Does it promote the Divine
glory ? " The great and first maxim for human action,
and human speculation, is the maxim : " Whether, there-
fore, ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the
glory of God."
This then is the eye with which we are to pierce through
all the doubts and darkness of earth and time. This pure,
motive is the light of the soul. How simple, and how
beautiful it is — simple as the light of heaven ; beautifui
as the crystalline eye itself. Only carry with you this de-
sire and longing to exalt the great and wise Creator, and
you cannot go astray. You cannot go astray in the actions
of your daily life. You cannot go astray in, the thoughts
and opinions of your own mind. The very motive will en-
velop you, always and everywhere, like an atmospliere.
Your whole soul " shall be full of light, having no part
dark ; as full of light as when the bright shining of a
candle doth give thee light."
9
SEEMON XIII.
THE LAW IS LIGHT.
Proverbs vi. 23.—" The law is light."
The fitness and beanty of this comparison of the law of
God with light are seen immediately. If we consider the
nature of law, we find that it is like the nature of sun-
light. There is nothing so pure and clean as light, and
there is nothing so pure and stainless as the divine law.
We cannot conceive of a mixture of light and darkness,
and neither can we conceive of a mixture of holiness and
sin. The one may expel the other, but they can never so
mingle with each other as to form one compound substance,
or quality. Light is always a bright and shining element ;
the law of God is always a perfectly pure thing.
Again, there is nothing so ubiquitous as the light. It
is everywhere. Our earth and all the heavenly bodies
swim in it. Its universal presence is necessary, in order
that there may be order and beauty in the material uni-
verse. When God would change the void and formlesa
chaos into a world, he first created, not life, as we should
have anticipated, but light, and shot it through the gloom.
How penetrating an element it is, and how wonderfully
does it search out all the secret places in nature, and take
up its dwelling in them. It enters with a gentle yet a
powerful entrance into the hard diamond, and gives it its
THE LAW IS LIGHT. 195
gleam and sparkle. It tenderly feels its way into the del-
icate pupil of the human eye, and lights it up with a bright
and radiant glow. It melts with a serene and mellowing
effect into the firmament above us, and makes it a fit can-
opy and pavilion for the globe. Its going forth is from
the end of the heaven, and its circuit unto the end of it,
and there is nothing hid from the radiance thereof.
How very like this light in the material universe is the
law of God in the rational. How naturally does the one
suggest and symbolize the other. Hence the Psalmist,
after alluding to the sun, the great bearer of light, and to
his running like a strong giant through the heavens, ab-
ruptly, yet by a very natural transition, begins to speak of
" the law of the Lord " as perfect ; of the " statutes of the
Lord" as right; of the "commandment of the Lord" as
pure ; of " the judgments of the Lord" as true and right-
eous altogether.
Again, to follow the resemblance, the moral law is the
ordinance which establishes and governs the moral uni-
verse. The command, " Let there be light," founded and
sustains the material world ; and the command, " Let there
be supreme love of God," founds and sustains the rational
and responsible world. And as the proclamation of the
physical law was requisite in order to the existence of the
physical world, so was the proclamation of the spiritual
law requisite in order to the existence of the spiritual
world. Both commands are universal and all-pervading.
The law of God, therefore, like the light, is ubiquitous.
Within the rational and responsible sphere, law is every-
where. Not, indeed, in the same degree, but in the same
species. For there are different degrees of moral light, as
there are different degrees of natural light. As there is
the twilight of the morning, and the brightness of the
noonday, and the many degrees of light between these
196 THE LAW IS LIGHT.
all running into each other by insensible gradations, so
there is the dim light of finite reason in the imbruted pa-
gan, and the light of supreme reason in the infinite God
shining in its strength and intolerable brightness, and
the infinite number of degrees between these extremes.
Everywhere in this rational world does this legal light, in
a fainter or a brighter manner, shine ; for a being without
a spark of moral intelligence, without a particle of con-
science, is a brute. Everywhere in this responsible world,
does this law, with greater or less power, manifest its
presence. It may be a law written only upon the fieehy
tablet of the heart, as in the instance of the heathen. It
may be written on the heart, and in the revealed word of
God, as the dweller in a Christian land has it. It may be
written on the heart, and read again in the countenance of
that God who " is light, and in whom is no darkness at
all," as spirits in eternity have it. But everywhere its
presence in some degree is presupposed in a responsible
world — " for where no Idw is, there is no transgression."
Its presence, moreover, is a penetrating one, like that of
light. It pierces where we should not expect to find it.
It is witnessed in the remorse v^hich it awakens when it
has pierced through the thick and dark degradation of pa-
ganism. It is seen in the blood of the victims by which
the pagan attempts to expiate the guilt of having violated
law, and resisted light. It is revealed in the uneasy con-
sciences of men living in a Christian land, which can be
pacified only by the blood of Him who was " made a curse
for man." It is found in hell, and creatures dread it and
feel its terrible power, because it is light divorced from
life ; mere law without love. It is found in heaven, and
the saints enjoy it, because for them it is light, and life,
and love, all in one. Wherever the omnipresent God is,
there is his law. Wherever there is a creature possessing
THE LAW IS LIGHT. 197
the sense of responsibility to God, there is also a knowl-
edge, in greater or less degree, of that commandment by
which its conduct toward him should be regulated. Issu-
ing from God, then, moral law flows out into all places of
his dominion, as light radiates from the sun, and consti-
tutes a clear, crystal element in which all accountable be-
ings live, either as light or lightning ; either as the light
that rejoices them if they obey, or the lightning that blasts
them if they disobey — even as the natural light is the
dwelling-place of all material things ; though sometimes it
is the benign light of an autumnal noon, or the soft light
of a summer evening, and sometimes it is that chemical
incandescence which, in the old geological eras, burned up
the primeval forests, of which the coal-beds are the cin-
ders. How truly, then, " the law is light," if we consider
the purity of its nature, or the universality and penetration
of its presence.
But our main object is to show the similarity between
the moral law and the material light, by looking at its
influences and effects in the soul, rather than by analyz-
ing its intrinsic nature. And the subject naturally divides
into two parts, when we remember that there are two
classes of beings, the evil and the good, who sustain rela-
tions to this law.
We shall, in this discourse, direct attention to some
effects produced by the Divine law in the Christian be-
liever, that are like the effects of light in the world of
nature.
I. In the first place, the moral law reveals like sunlight.
It makes the sin which still remains in the Christian a
visible thing. The apostle Paul notices this point of sim-
ilarity, when he remarks : " All things that are reproved
are made manifest by the light, for whatsoever doth make
manifest is light." And our Lord implies the same resem-
198 THE LAW IS LIGHT.
blance, when lie says : " This is the condemnation, that
light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather
than light, because their deeds were evil. For every one
that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the
light, lest his deeds should be reproved. But he that
doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be
made manifest that they are wrought in God."
Believers are continually urged in the Scriptures to
bring their hearts into the light of God's law, that they
may see the sin that is in them. It is as necessary, in
order to know our characters, that we should scrutinize
them by this illumination, as it is that the naturalist should
bring the plant, or the insect, whose structure he would
comprehend, into the bright daylight. And if we would
thoroughly understand our intricate and hidden corrup-
tion, we must by prayer and reflection intensify the light
of the moral law, that it may penetrate more deeply into
the dark mass, even as the naturalist must concentrate the
light of the sun through the lens, if he would thoroughly
know the plant or the insect.
How wonderfully does the holy searching law of God
reveal our character ! In the silent hour of meditation,
■when we are alone with it, and carefully compare our con-
duct with its requirements, how unworthy and guilty do
we find and feel ourselves to be, and how earnestly do we
look unto Him " who is the end of the law for righteous-
ness, unto every one that believeth." Truly the law is
" the candle of the Lord, searching all the inward parts."
It discloses, when its light is thus brightened by medita-
tion, much sin which in the carelessness of daily life es-
capes our notice. The light, in the hour of self-examina-
tion, goes down to a lower plane, and reveals a lower and
more hidden sin. It makes its way in among the motives,
the propensities, the desires and affections of the heart,
THE LAW IS LIGHT. 199
and brings into clear view the plague-spot itself — the evil
nature and disposition. Sin is a sallow plant of darkness,
and grows best in the night, like the nightshade and other
poisonous plants. Hence it avoids the light, and will not
come to the light, lest it be reproved. But when we reso-
lutely throw open the soul, and permit the light of God's
truth to shine in, then we come to know the deadly growth
which has been springing up rankly and luxuriantly within
us — a growth of which we had not been distinctly awai'e,
and which is difficult to root up. Every Christian who is
at all faithful to himself, and to God, has experienced
these illuminating and revelatory influences of the law.
It has frequently dazzled him by its pure white light, and
he has felt himself to be exceedingly depraved. He has
been astonished at his corruption, as the dying saint was
when he sighed : " Infinite upon infinite is the wickedness
of the heart." With the Psalmist, he has cried out to
God : " The entrance of thy words giveth light ; I have
seen an end of all perfection, thy commandment is exceed-
ing broad."
We cannot leave this head of the discourse without di-
recting particular attention to the fact, that for the believer
the law makes these disclosures of character in a hopeful
and salutary manner. In their own nature they are terri-
ble. The unbeliever cannot endure them, and hence he
avoids them as the criminal avoids the officer of justice.
But the believer, by virtue of his union with Christ, and
appropriation of his vicarious atonement, has been deliv-
ered from the condemning power of the law. The " curse "
of the law, Christ his Surety has borne for him. The de-
mands of justice have been completely satisfied by the Son
of God, his High Priest. This fact places him in a new
and secure position in respect to the Divine law and gov-
ernment. His legal status, or standing, is safe. There is
200 THE LAW IS LIGHT.
no condemnation to liiin as in Christ Jesus. Hence, when-
ever he searches his lieart, and compares his character and
conduct with the requirements of the Divine law, and finds
that he has incurred its condemnation, he does not fall into
servile terror and despair, like the impenitent unbeliever.
By reason of his faith in Christ's oblation, he is prepared
for these revelations. From his high evangelic position, he
cries out : " Let the disclosure of character come : let me
know the full depth and extent of my guilt and corruption.
Christ is my atonement, and his blood cancels everything.
Let the righteous law smite me ; it shall be a kindness, in
that it leads me to my Redeemer." Hence this light of the
Divine law is of a cleansing and illuminating, and not of a
burning and blasting nature for the believer. He makes use
of the law only for preceptive purposes, in order to know
his moral state and condition. And he has no further use
for it. He does not expect, or look, to be justified by it.
When it demands penalty for the sins that are past, as it
righteously does, and he most cordially concedes the right-
eousness of the claim, he points it to the satisfying death
of Christ. And when it demands a perfect performance
of its commands, as it justly does, he looks to Christ for
grace, inclination, and power, to render such an obedience.
In this way, the believer stands upon a high vantage-ground
in reference to law. He enjoys all the beneficent and edu-
cating influences of the law, without any of those dreadful
judicial and retributive impressions which are experienced
by the legalist, the moralist, the unbeliever, upon whom
the entire law, both as precept and penalty, weighs down
as an intolerable burden, because he has not cast himself
and his burden upon Christ. For the legalist has appealed
to Caesar, and to Csesar he must go ; the unbelieving, un-
evangelic man has referred his ease to justice, and to jus-
tice it must go.
THE LAW IS LIGHT. 201
Tims is the moral law like the material light, in reveal-
ing, in bringing to liglit. And for the believer it is a mild
and radiant light which he does not fear, and which his
soul loves more and more. Like the cup of a flower, his
heart opens itself to the pure ether and element, and
drinks it in with eagerness and joy. And as the flower
by thus turning towards the light becomes like the light
itself in some degree, and acquires an airy and almost im-
material texture in the process, so does the Christian's
heart come to be a pure and holy thing like the law. The
law is in his heart, and appears more and more in his ac-
tions, until at length, when that which is perfect is come,
his whole nature and entire being is transmuted into a
living spontaneous law of righteousness.
II. In the second place, the law, for the believer in
Christ, attracts like the light. Light in the material world
universally attracts. If the smallest pencil of light, through
the smallest possible aperture, fall upon the plant in a dark
place, it immediately shoots towards it. And when the
sun rises up and bathes the world in light, how all nature
rises up to meet it. The very leaves of the trees look up,
and the flowers spread out with a richer bloom, to welcome
its coming. A more vigorous and spirited life circulates
throughout nature, and the whole landscape seems as if it
were ascending like incense to the God of light. Just so
does the moral law attract the world of holy beings. They
love the law for jts intrinsic excellence, and seek it with
the whole heart. They cannot live without it, and would
not live without it if they could. They see in it a tran-
script of the character of God whom they adore, and
therefore they gaze at it, and study it. " O how I love
thy law, it is my meditation all the day," is the utterance
of their hearts. And yet more than this. Their very
natures are pure like the law ; and like always attracts like.
202 THE LAW IS LIGHT.
If there be in any soul even the least degree of real holi-
ness, there is a point of attraction upon which the law of
God will seize and draw. Holiness is never an isolated
thing in any creature. It came from God, and it goes
back to God, and returns again increased and strengthened.
Hence there is a continual tendency and drift of a holy
soul towards the holy Ofie. As the power of gravitation
draws with a steady stress all things to the centre, so do
truth and righteousness, inhering in the Divine nature,
like a vast central force attract all pm*e and holy creatures
towards their seat. Have you not, in the more favored
hours of your religious life, experienced what the Scrip-
ture denominates the " drawing " — the attraction — " of the
Father," when by the illumination of his Spirit he dis-
closed to you the excellence of his statutes and command-
ments, and you panted after conformity with them as the
hart panteth after the water-brooks ? Did not the beauty
of holiness attract your ardent gaze, and prompt the prayer
that it might be realized and seen in your own personal
character? As angelic purity dawned more and clearer
upon your vision, and you saw how desirable and blessed
it is to be spotless and saintly, how glorious the law that
disciplines, and regulates, and purifies, appeared to you.
You wished that your soul might cast off its old garments
of sin and earth, and might go up and bathe forever in the
pure, limpid waters of heaven — that your heart might be-
come a perfectly clean heart, ever gently yet powerfully
drawn by the commandment toward the Sovereign. You
said with the Psalmist : " Thy word is very pure, there-
fore thy servant loveth it. The law of the Lord is per-
fect ; more to be desired is it than gold, yea than much fine
gold : sweeter also than honey and the honey-comb,"
This view of the Divine law as an attractive energy is
an encouraging one to the believer. It affords good
THE LAW IS LIGHT. 203
grounds for the perseverance of the saints. For this oper-
ation of the law of God in a renewed heart is ceaseless and
constantly augmenting. As well might we suppose the
power of attraction in the material world to be an inter-
mittent one, and subject to interruption and cessation, as
to suppose it in the spiritual. The great force of gravita-
tion never becomes tired and weary in the planets and
molecules of matter ; and neither do the truth and Spirit of
God within the believer's soul. As the Christian is drawn
nearer to God, the influence of the Divine law is greater
and greater. It obtains a more complete mastery over his
appetites and passions ; it dwells with a more constant res-
idence in his affections ; it actuates his conduct with a more
delightful and easy power. What a cheering view of the
future career of a redeemed spirit does this way of con-
templating the moral law present. Forever increasing in
its influence, as it is forever drawing the creature nearer
its Father and God. The goal is an infinitely distant one,
and yet as he is passing along this limitless line he feels
an allurement at each and every one of the innumerable
points, as powerful and as entirely master of his soul as
if he were at the end of the infinite career.
III. In the third place, the law, for the believer in
Christ, invigorates like light. This point of resemblance
between the moral law and the light of the sun is plain,
though somewhat less obvious at the first glance. For al-
though we more commonly think of the air as the invig-
orating element in nature, yet it is true of the light, that
its presence is necessar}'^ in order that the spirits of a man
may be lively and in vigorous action. That plant which
grows up in the darkness is a pale and weak thing. The
season of repose and inactivity is the night time. In the
hours of darkness, the living powers of the body go to
rest, and their instruments, the limbs, are as still and mo-
204 THE IjA^v is light.
tionless as wlien death itself has set its seal upon them.
But when the world again " covers itself with light as
with a garment," man feels its awakening and stimulating
power. The living currents of his frame circulate more
quickly, spring and buoyancy are imparted, and he " goeth
forth unto his work and to his labor until the evening."
And not only does man feel the invigoration of light, but
nature does also. Mere air is not all that is necessary in
order to growth ; the clear shining effulgence of heaven
must be poured abroad, that there may be freshness and
bloom in the natural woi-ld.
Similar to this is the effect of the moral law upon one
who is resting upon Christ, both in respect to the law's
condemnation and the law's fulfilment. For we cannot
but again remind you, that the believer sustains a totally
different relation to the Divine law froin that which the
unbeliever sustains, and it casts a very different light upon
him from that which it darts and flashes into the impeni-
tent soul. The steady, cheerful light of a summer's day is
very different from the wrathful, fitful lightning of the
black thunder-cloud. The power of law to condemn, to
terrify, and to slay, as we have before remarked, is de-
parted, because Christ has received the stroke of justice
upon himself. For the disciple of Christ, the law is no
longer a judge, but only an instructor. The terrors of the
law have lost their power, and he is relieved from that
weakening, benumbing fear of judgment which utterly
prevents a cheerful obedience. Fear hath torment ; and
no creature can love and serve God while he is in torment.
The disciple of Christ is a free and vigorous man spirit-
ually^, because his Redeemer has released him from the
bondage and anxiety which the law, as a condemning
judge, and an inexorable, unhelping exactor, causes in
every unbeliever. Take away fear, and take away bond-
THE LAW IS LIGHT. 205
age, and you impart energy and courage at once. As soon
as a criminal is released from the sentence of death, and
his chains are knocked off, his old vigor and life return
again ; his frame dilates once more, his eye kindles, and
his heart swells and beats again, because he is no longer
under sentence of death, and no longer a bond slave.
Not only does the law impart spiritual vigor to the be-
liever because it has ceased to be his condemning judge,
and has become a wise and good schoolmaster to lead him
to Christ, but it invigorates him because by virtue of his
union with Christ it has become an inward and actuating
principle. It is no longer a mere external statute, with
which he has no sympathy, and which merely terrifies
him with its threat. His heart has been so changed by
grace that he now really loves the law of God. The apos-
tle Paul, speaking of the sinner and of the sinner's rela-
tion to the law, affirms that for such an one " the law is
the strength of sin." In case the heart is at enmity with
God's commandment, the commandment merely provokes,
elicits, and stinmlates the inward depravity, but does
nothing towards removing it. The commandment which
was ordained to life — which, in a right state of things, was
adapted to fill the human soul with peace and joy — is
found to be unto death, and actually fills it with despair
and woe. But for the believer, this very same law is the
strength of holiness. The Psalmist remarks of the right-
eous man : " The law of God is in his heart ; none of
his steps shall slide." When the human soul is regener-
ated, the Divine law is written not merely on but in the
tablet of the heart. It becomes a feeling, an affection,
an inclination, a disposition within it. Have you ever
seen a Christian in whose active and emotional powers
the law of God had come to be a second nature ? Have
you ever seen one whose actions were easily and sweetly
206 THE LAW IS LIGHT.
controlled by the Divine commandment, and whose cen-
tral and inmost experiences were but expressions and man-
ifestations of it ? And was not that Christian a strong
and vigorous one ? Did he not run the race, and fight the
fight, with a firm and determined bearing ; calm in adver-
sity, equable and serenely joyful in prosperity ; wending
his way faithful and fearless into eternity ? Never is the
spirit of a man in such a vigorous condition, and its ener-
gies in such a healthful and active play, as when it is im-
pelled and actuated by law ; and who but the renewed
man is thus actuated ? Never is man such a free and spir-
ited creature, as when he spontaneously listens to the voice
of truth and duty. As the apostle says: He is "filled
with the spirit of jyowerP The poet Wordsworth,' per-
sonifying the law of order which prevails in the natural
world, and which prevails inwardly as all the laws of na-
ture do, addresses it thus :
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds ;
And fragrance in thy footing treads ;
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ;
And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh and strong.
So is it, in a far higher sense, with the law of God in
the spiritual world. Wherever it prevails inwardly as a
principle, and not outwardly as a threat, there is order,
vigor, beauty, and strength. Creatures who listen to it in
this spontaneous style are strong in the highest of strength
— in the strength of holiness, in the " confidence of rea-
son " and righteousness.
lY. In the fourth place, the law, for the believer in
Christ, rejoices like the light. This feature of resemblance
is evident at the ver}'^ first glance. " Truly the light is
sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the
» Ode to Duty.
THE LAW IS LIGHT. 207
sun." In nature, the hour of joy is the morning hour.
All creatures and things are filled with gladness at the up-
rising of the light.' It is related in ancient story that the
statue of Memnon, when the first rays of the morning
gilded it, began to tremble, and thrill — the hard por-
phyritic rock began to tremble, and thrill, and send forth
music like a swept harp. Thus does nature thrill under
the first touch of light, and warble forth its harmonies.
And such, too, is the joy-giving influence of righteous law
in the heavenly world, and such is its effect in the indi-
vidual believer. What rapture the contemplation of the
Divine commands imparted to the heart of the royal
harper. How his soul accompanied his harp, in singing
with jubilance the praises of its Author. Hear him:
" Thy testimonies have I taken as an heritage forever ;
for they are the rejoicing of my heart. I rejoice at thy
word as one that findeth great spoil." Joy in the law of
the Lord — positive, blood-felt delight in having it rule
over and in the soul — is the sure sign of a right state.
Miserable is that creature of God for whom obedience to
law is a task and a disgust. There are no hirelings in
heaven. Service there is its own reward. The law of
God is to be our companion forever, either as a joy or a
sorrow, either as bliss or bale ; and we must, therefore,
come into such an inward and affectionate relation to it, as
to make it bliss and not woe. We must rejoice in its holy
presence, when with a severe and just eye it rebukes our
sin, and leads us to the Cross for pardon. We must be
gladdened with its benign and enrapturing presence, when
with a calm peace in the conscience it rewards us for obe-
dience. We must find our heaven in our conformity to
' Compare Schiller's WiUielm Tell, Act I., Scene iv. ; and Milton's
Sanason Agonistes, 90-93.
208 THE LAW 18 LIGHT.
God. It must be our meat and drink to do the Divine
will. For eternity is not lighted by the light of the sun,
nor by the light of the moon ; but the Loi'd God himself
is the light thereof. The happiness of our spirits, if they
are saved, will not be found in material things. It will
not issue from the streets of gold, from the gates of pearl,
from the jewelry and adornments of a material city. These
are but emblems and faint foreshadowmgs. The bliss of
the blest will be righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy
Ghost — the consciousness of perfectly loving God, and of
being beloved by Him. The creature can have no higher
joy than to dwell in God's holy presence, a holy being for-
ever. There is no emotion so ecstatic as that which swells
the heart that can sincerely say with St. Paul : " I am
Christ's, and Christ is God's." Truly the law will be light
in that perfect world ; the great sun of the system. It
will send out its invigorating and gladdening rays, which
will penetrate, like the tremulous undulations of the solar
beam, into the inmost spirit. It will warm and quicken
the whole heavenly world into life — into holy life, into
pure activity, into serene enjoyment.
It follows from this unfolding of the subject, that the
great act of the Christian is the act oi faith; and the great
work of the Christian is to cultivate and strengthen his faith.
" This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom
he hath sent." We have seen that the moral law, like the
material light, reveals, attracts, invigorates, and rejoices,
only because the soul sustains a certain special relation to
it — only because it is trusting in Christ for deliverance
from its condemnation, and for grace to fulfil it in future.
What then should we do, but with still more energy obey
the great command, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ
with a more childlike and entire trust. If the holy law of
God has ever cast any cheering and pleasant light upon us.
THE LAW IS LIGHT. 209
it has been by virtue of this faith. If the law shall ever
become all-controlling within us, it will be through this
faith. Faith in the Redeemer is the alpha and omega,
the first and the last, the beginning, middle, and end, in
the religious experience. This alone renders the moral
law an operative and actuating principle within us. By
no other method can we ever fulfil the law.
We have compared the law to the sun of our system.
It is a disputed opinion of some astronomers, that far
beyond our sun, and all other suns, there is a point in
immensity around which, as the ultimate centre of cen-
tres, these myriad suns of myriad systems all circle.
That point one has asserted to be the throne of God.
So, too — if it be allowable to borrow an illustration from
a doubtful physics — if the Divine law, and whatever else
there may be in the great immensity of truth, is ever to
become an eflScient force and centre of motion for the lost
soul, it must all of it revolve around the final centre and
power, namely, simple and hearty faith in the Son of God.
Faith in Christ sets up the throne of God in the soul, and
when this is done, all things come into right relation to it,
and move in proper order round it. Let us then pray :
"Lord, increase our weak faith." Let us then toil — by
reading and meditating upon God's "Word, and by constant
supplication for the teaching of the Holy Spirit — after a
bolder, firmer, and more operative faith.
SEEMON XIV.
THE LAW IS THE STRENGTH OF SIN.
1 Corinthians xv. 56. — " The strength of sin is the law."
Any man who thinks or feels at all about the sin that
is in him, knows that it is strong ; and, also, that it is the
strongest principle within him. His will is adequate for
all the other undertakings that come up before him in
life, but it fails the moment it attempts to conquer and
subdue itself. He rules other men, but he does not rule
himself ; and, in more senses than one, "he that is slow to
anger is better than the mighty, and he that ruleth his
spirit than he that taketh a city."
The experience of the Christian, likewise, demonstrates
that sin is the most powerful antagonist that man has to
contend with. That great struggle through which the
believer passes, in order to be freed from the bondage of
corruption, summons the strongest energies of the soul,
and stretches the cords of the inner man to their utmost
tension. Nay, more, this heat and stress of the Christian
race and fight evinces that man must be " strong in the
Lord," in order to overcome sin. " The power of God's
might" must descend and dwell in the human soul, or
else it will sink in the struggle. And when the finite
spirit is endued with this power from on high ; when it is
THE LAW IS THE STRENGTH OF SUST. 211
laden, as it were, with the omnipotence of God ; how does
it tremble and reel under the burden. When the human
soul is pervaded by the presence of its Maker, in the hour
'of searching convictions, and especially of severe struggle
with long-indulged habits of sin, how does it stagger to
and fro like a drunken man. Were it not that the influ-
ences of the Divine Spirit, while they press the soul down,
at the same time hold it up, and prevent it from being
utterly cast down, the frail creature would not be able to
endure such a strain. If the man were all permeated by
a power that convicts but does not renovate ; that wakens
a sense of guilt, but does not apply the atoning blood ;
that sets the whole inward being into commotion, but does
not tranquillize it with the sense and assurance of forgive-
ness and love ; like the person in the Gospel possessed
with a dumb spirit, he would be " torn, and be as one
dead." ]^ay, he would be dead with that death of the
spirit which is a vitality of anguish. These pangs and
throes, attending that process which our Lord denominates
a " birth " of the soul, show how stubborn and inveterate
is the sin which it subdues and eradicates.
What is the cause of this mighty strength of sin ? The
apostle in the text asserts, somewhat remarkably, that it is
the law of God. " The strength of sin is the law."
By the law is meant the sum of all that a rational being
ought to do, under all circumstances, and at all times. It
is equivalent to duty — using this term to denote the col-
lective body or mass, if we may so say, of all the require-
ments of conscience upon a man. It includes all that is
implied in the word right, and excludes all that we mean
by wrong. At first sight, it appeai-s passing strange that a
law of this description should, in any sense, be said to
be the strength of sin. Yet such is the explicit assertion
of an inspired apostle. And elsewhere the same apostle
212 THE LAW IS THE
seems to vilify the ten commandments. He tells ns that
" when the commandment came, sin revived ; " and that
" sin, taking occasion by the commandment, deceived him,
and wrought in him all manner of concupiscence." (Rom.
vii. 8, 9, 11.)
We caunot understand these statements, unless we take
into view the difference in the relation which a holy and
a sinful being, respectively, sustains to the moral law.
The assertion in the text is only a relative one. St. Paul
does not lay down an absolute and universal proposition.
He means that the pure and holy law of God is the
strength of sin for a sinne7\ For the saint, on the con-
trary, it is the strength of holiness ; and had the apostle
been speaking of the holy, he would have said this. The
law is identically the same thing in both cases, and there-
fore the difference in its effects must be attributed to the
different attitude which the natural and the spiritual man,
respectively, holds toward it. In the instance of the holy
being, the law of righteousness is an inward and actuat-
ing jp7'incij)le. It is his own loved and chosen law, and he
obeys it because it is one with his inclination, and he
would not do otherwise. But for a sinful being, the law
of God is only an outward rule, and not an inward prin-
ciple. Law does not work sweetly and pleasantly within
the sinner, but stands stern and severe outside of, and over
him, commanding and threatening. The moral law is not
internal and spontaneous to the natural man. If he
attempts to obey it, he does so from fear, or self-interest,
and not from the love of it. It is not his own chosen law
in which he delights, but a hated statute, to which his heart
and inclination are in deadly opposition. The " law of
sin " is the sole inward principle that rules him, and his
service of sin is spontaneous and willing. In short, the law
of righteousness is the strength of sin for the sinner, be-
STEENGTH OF SIN. 213
cause it is extraneous, and hostile, to his will and affections.
It is written upon his conscience, but not written into his
heart. God's law and the human conscience are one and
harmonious ; but God's law and the human will are diverse
and antagonistic. Hence the Scriptures describe regenera-
tion as the inwardizing of the moral law. " This shall be
the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel :
After those days, saith the Lord, I will put my law in their
inward parts, and write it in their hearts ; and 1 will be
their God, and they shall be my people." (Jer. xxxi. 33.)
According to this description, to regenerate a man is to
make the law of God internal, impulsive, and spontaneous,
where before it has been external, compulsory, and threat-
ening ; it is to convert duty into inclination, so that the
man shall know no difference between the commands of
God and the desires of his own heart.
Before proceeding to unfold and illustrate the truth
taught in the text, let us notice the fact, that the two
principles, or in St. Paul's phrase " laws," of holiness and
sin, which operate in the moral world, in order to have
efficiency must be within the heart and will. If the law
of righteousness, for example, does not abide and work in
the inclination and affections of a man, the mere fact that
it is inlaid in his conscience will not secure obedience.
The ten commandments may be cut into the hard, unyield-
ing stone of the moral sense, but unless they are also written
in the soft, fleshy tablet of the heart, they will be in-
operative, except in the form of conviction and condemna-
tion. The moral law must be " in the members," in St.
Paul's phrase — that is, it must be wrought into the feel-
ings and disposition of the person — before it can be effect-
ual and productive.
The laws or principles of holiness and sin may fitly be
compared with the great fruitful laws that w^ork and
214 THE LAW IS THE
weave in the world of nature. All these laws are internal.
They start from within, and work outward. They per-
meate and pervade, and not merely affix and attach them-
selves to, the products of nature. The principle of life in
the tree is not dropped down upon the tree like dew from
without, but rises up from within it like an exhalation.
How wonderfully productive and mighty, because internal,
are the movements of the law of vegetable life, which car-
pets with bright flowers the meadows of half a continent,
and sends the sap through every twig of every tree in its
vast forests. This law lives, and develops itself, within
these productions.
All this holds true of the mental world, equally with «
the physical. In the upper blessed realm of heaven, the
law of holiness works as an inward and spontaneous force
in every one of its inhabitants. Issuing from the infinite
and glorious Fountain of purity, it takes its course through
all the happy spirits, producing the fruits of holiness
throughout its bright track, and building up a beautiful
world of order, light, and purity. And it is equally true,
that throughout the realm of hell, the law of sin as an in-
ward principle of life and action — self-chosen, it is true,
and not forced upon any one, yet internal to the will, and
thoroughly inwrought into the affections — is working
within every individual member of that world. And the
fact that there is such a realm, where the principle of evil in
antagonism to the principle of good is unfolding itself, and
multiplying its unsightly and deadly products, should make
every man thoughtful, and lead him to inquire most ear-
nestly : " Am I in and of this realm ? am I, in Christ's
phrase, ' from beneath ' ? is the law of sin the inward and
actuating principle of my will ? "
In the light of this illustration, let us now look more
closely at the attitude which the unrenewed will maintains
STKENGTH OF SIN". 215
toward the Divine law. The law of righteousness, con-
fessedly, is not the inward, actuating force in a sinner's
will. It is the law of sin which is " in his members " —
which is internal to him — and which, consequently, is the
only one that can bear fruits. And how rank and luxuri-
ant they are ; with what ease are they produced ; how
willingly and spontaneously does he sin. There is nothing
artificial or mechanical in man's iniquity. There are no
spurious and " dead " works on the side of transgression.
Sin is always alive and genuine. Man is never a formal-
ist, or a hypocrite, in his disobedience. This work is
hearty, and springs from an inward principle. Yet the
law of holiness is the one that ought to bear the fruit.
But it cannot, until it ceases to be external and threaten-
ing, and becomes internal and complacent. So long as the
existing inimical relation continues between the moral law
and the voluntary faculty ; so long as the law of God is a
letter on the statute-book of the conscience, but not a let-
ter written in the fleshy tablet of the heart ; so long must
it be inoperative, except in the way of death and misery.
The law of holiness must cease to be outwardly commina-
tory and dreadful, and become inwardly attractive and be-
loved, before any fruits of righteousness can spring up.
Is not this righteous law " the strength of sin " in us, so
long as it merely weighs down with a mountain's weight
upon our enslaved wills? so long as- it merely holds a whip
of scorpions over our opposing inclination, and lashes it
into anger and resistance ? so long as it merely presents
the sharp goads of duty that stab our unwillingness ? How
can there be any moral growth, in the midst of such a
hatred and hostility between the human heart and the
moral law ? Cicero tells us that the laws are ineffectual in
war-time — '"''silent leges inter armaP And neither can
flowers and fruits grow on a battle-field. As well might
216 THE LAW IS THE
we suppose that the vegetation which now constitutes the
coal-beds grew up in that geological era when fire and
water were contending for possession of the planet, as
to suppose that the fruits of holiness can spring up when
the human will is in obstinate and deadly conflict with the
human conscience. So long as the heart of man sustains
this outside and hostile relation to holiness, and righteous-
ness comes before it as the hated quality and the stern
command of another's will, and is not in the least its own
sweet inclination, obedience is impossible. The law of
righteousness can produce no effects in character and con-
duct until it is obeyed from an inward impulse and spon-
taneity, as the law of sin now is.
We have thus, in a general way, noticed that the Divine
law is " the strength of sin," whenever it is an external
commandment coupled with a threatening, and not an in-
ternal principle coupled with an affection. Let us now
consider some particulars which illustrate and explain
more fully this doctrine of the text.
I. In the first place, so long as the law sustains this ex-
traneous relation to the heart and will, there is no genuine
obedience. For genuine obedience is voluntary, cheerful,
and spontaneous. The child does not truly obey its pa-
rent, when it performs an outward act, outwardly insisted
upon by its superior, from no inward genial impulse, but
solely from the force of fear. So also the moralist, in
whom the law has not become a hearty principle of willing
action, does not truly comply with it. He may perform
some outwardly moral acts, but he does them mechanically
and insincerely ; and neither mechanism nor insincerity is
of the nature of obedience.
It is here that we see the difference between a moral
man and a religious man. The moralist attempts, from
considerations of prudence, fear, and self-interest, to ex-
STRENGTH OF SIN. 217
ternally obey the external and comminatory law of God.
It is not a law that he loves, but one which he would keep
because of the penalty attached to it. And yet, after all
his attempts at obedience, he is conscious of utter failure.
In his moments of reflection, he sees that it is no genuine
compliance and submission which he renders, and that it
is not valid before Him who looketh not on the outward
appearance, but upon the heart. And at times, perhaps,
he would wish that this selfish attempt to square accounts
with his Maker might be supplanted by a free, filial im-
pulse of the soul — that his conscience might be converted
into his will. But the renewed and sanctified man, so far
as he is such, " obeys from the heart the form of doctrine
that is delivered " unto him. The holy law, though im-
perfectly, yet predominantly, has become his inclination,
and overfiows in holy feelings and acts. " The law," in
the phrase of the Psalmist, " is within his heart, and none
of his steps shall slide." The Holy Spirit has inwardized
it. The law has become his natural disposition, and when
he acts naturally he acts holily, and when he sins he is
uneasy, because sin is unnatural to a renewed heart.
Again, we may perceive that the obedience rendered to
the law by one who does not feel it to be his own law, is
not real and genuine, by noticing the appearance which it
exhibits. Everything that is genuine, spontaneous, and
voluntary, wears the garb of grace and beauty ; while that
which is false, protended, and constrained, has the look of
deformit}'. That alone which is alive, and the product of
an inward principle, is beautiful. The growing plant,
with the dew fresh upon it, immediately attracts our gaze ;
but we turn away from the splendid artificial flower. So
is it with the appearance which the moralist and the be-
liever, respectively, presents. The one is rigid, hard, and
formal. "We feel instinctively that he is a precise and un-
10
218 THE^LAW IS THE
happy person ; that he rather endures his religion than
enjoys it. The other is a free, cheerful, pliant creature.
The Son hath made him free, and he is free indeed. His
is the obedience of love and of natui-e ; not of fear and
compulsion. The principle of spiritual life — the moral law
now made internal, and one with his heart and will — is
warm and plastic within him, and carries warmth, vigor,
and robustness through the whole system. All his acts of
obedience to the Divine commands are what we expect
from him. They suit him, and wear no forced look. In
fine, the difference between the fruits of the law of holi-
ness when it is in the heart, and those of the same law
when it is merely in the conscience, is like that between
those fruits into which the vegetative principle has infused
cooling juices, rich flavors, and pleasant odors, and those
imitations of fruit which are lifeless and tasteless.
Another criterion of genuine obedience is love. But so
long as the law sustains this extraneous and hostile relation
to the heart and will, there is no love of it, or its Author.
Examine the feeling of the unrenewed though perhaps
moral man, and do you find that calm, settled affection for
the statutes and commandments of God which evinces that
they are wrought into the very fibre and texture of the
soul ? Have they not been expelled from the affections,
and does not the man sometimes wish that he could expel
them also from his conscience ? And even if he some-
times attempts to obey them because he fears to transgress
them, yet does he not, in the depths of his soul, wish that
he could free himself from their everlasting restraint?
And although, from the same motives of fear or selfish
prudence, lie may repress violent outbreaks of passion and
rebellion, yet is all within him calm and serene ? Is there
not a noiseless friction and wearing within ? Is he not at
schism with himself ? Are not conscience and will con-
STEENGTH OF SIN. 219
tinually at war ? Even if the surface be placid, and there
is not a ripple upon it, yet far down in the fountains of
his soul ; in those depths where the feelings, and propen-
sities, and all the main and primal agency of the man has
its source ; in those lowest recesses, where the real charac-
ter of the man is to be sought for ; is there not a restless
eddying and whirl ? No man can love God's law in this
state of things. No man can have a cordial affection for
it, until it becomes the inward and actuating principle, the
real inclination of his will ; until his will is renewed, and
he obeys the law because he would not do otherwise. Yet
the law overhangs him all this while, and since it cannot
produce the fruits of peace and holiness, it betakes itself
to its other function, and elicits his corruption, and exas-
perates his depravity. And thus the law, for the sinner,
is the stimulus and strength of sin.
II. In the second place, so long as the extraneous relation
spoken of continues between law and will, there not only is
no true obedience, but obedience is iiivpossHle. For the law
is entirely outside of the executive faculty. It is in the
conscience, but not in the heart. It consequently gives no
impulse and aid to right action, but only passes a penal,
damning sentence, the effect of which is paralyzing. The
law sternly tells the man that by his own determination and
fault he is " dead in trespasses and sins," and condemns
him therefor ; but so long as it is merely didactic and
comminatory, and not impulsive and indwelling, he derives
from it none of that strength which empowers to right-
eousness. The man in chains is not animated and assisted
to freedom, by being merely informed that he is chained,
or by being sternly commanded to tear off his chains.
Until the law has become the loved and chosen law of the
will, as well as the organic law of the conscience, it cannot
be obeyed. God's law follows man like God's oranipres-
220 THE LAW IS THE
ence, and if he ascend into heaven it has authority there,
and if he descend into hell even there conscience affirms
that it must be obeyed ; but wheresoever it follows him,
if he does not love it he cannot obey it, if it is not in his
will it can produce no fruits of holiness. The tree cannot
bear fruit, if the principle of life is outside of it. The
tree is dead.
But in the Christian, the law of holiness, by virtue of
his regeneration and union with Christ, has become in-
ward, spontaneous, and voluntary. It is no longer a mere
fiery letter in his conscience, giving him knowledge of his
sinfulness, and distressing him therefor ; but it is a glow-
ing and genial impulse in his heart. His duty is now his
inclination, and his now holy inclination is his duty. The
two are one, and undivided in his consciousness. The
schism in the soul is healed. Through the renewing in-
fluences of the Spirit of God, the commandment has again
become a vital force in the soul, as it was before the fall.
As the apostle calls it, it is " the law of the Spirit of life
in Christ Jesus " — the living spirit of law. And this is
the reason why the Christian, in proportion to the close-
ness of his union to Christ, and the simplicity of his faith
in Him, finds it easy, pleasant, and natural to keep the
Divine law. The law in a Christian is spontaneous and
self-executing. Says an old divine: "The law of the
Spirit of life within the renewed will is as if the soul of
music should incorporate itself with the instrument, and
live in the strings, and make them, of their own accord,
and without any touch or impulse from without, dance up
and down and warble out their harmonies." '
1. This subject as thus unfolded shows, in the first
place, that it is an immense worh to make such an entire
■ Cudworth : Sermon before the House of Commons.
STRENGTH OF SIN. 221
change and reversal in the relations that now exist between
man's will and the Divine law. The problem is, to trans-
mute the law of God into the very inclination of a man,
so that the two shall be one and the same thing in the
personal experience, and the man shall know no difference
between the dictates of his conscience and the desires of
his heart. The investigation has demonstrated that there
is now, not only no such unity and unison between will
and conscience in man, but that the former is deadly hos-
tile to the latter, and wholly extraneous to it. It shows,
moreover, that until the right harmonious relation is es-
tablished again between these two fundamental parts of
man ; until the constitutional and the voluntary are once
more in unison ; all other adjustment is useless, so far as
the eternal world is concerned ; that it is in reality no ad-
justment at all ; that the man must, in our Lord's phrase,
" make the tree good, and so the fruit good, or else let it
remain corrupt, and its fruit corrupt."
"We appeal to the daily experience of every thinking
person, whether this is not the truth. Are we not aware,
that if our will and affections do not undergo such a
change in their central determination and inmost bent,
that the law of holiness becomes spontaneous to them,
and vital within them, all of our desultory attempts under
the goadings of conscience to keep it are in vain ? Do we
not know that unless our heart is in the work of obedience,
we do not and cannot obey ? When the law of God,
reaching to every thought, and to every word, merely stands
over us, and above us, commanding and threatening, and
our wills and affections are hostile and resistant, instead of
being sweetly blended and accordant, do we not see that
nothing holy and spiritual can be done in this state of
things ? So long as our executive and affectionate powers
stand in this alien and outside relation to the law, can
222 THE LAW IS THE
there be any geniality or complacency toward it ? Until
we can say with the Psalmist : " I delight to do thy will,
O my God ; yea, thy law is within my heart," can we ren-
der the Psalmist's obedience ?
The change in the human soul which establishes this
inward relation and accordancy between will and con-
science, is denominated in Scripture a "birth," a "new
creation," and is the most marked change which a rational
spirit can undergo, with the exception of that great catas-
trophe by which it falls from the heavens to the hells.
Without such a change, the being is in continual antago-
nism and war with himself, and with God. " There are
times," says Tholuck, " in the life of the natural man,
when he seems to be possessed with a demon that tears
and weakens him. When, with the swelling power of
passion circling in his veins, and the whole world with its
enjoyments opens itself wide for his gratification, he hears
the solemn voice of law saying : ' Deny thyself, deny thy-
self,' what commotion rises within him ! What wonder is
it, if, when excited to madness by this holy commandment
which he hates but fears, he cries out : ' Let me tear ofE
these bands ; let me cast away these cords ' ? " ' Such a
commotion and ferment, which more or less violent arises
in the soul of man in some periods of his life here on
earth, and will last forever if it is not stilled by a work of
grace within, evinces that in our natural state we are not
in right relations ; for where right relation exists there is
harmony and peace. This fact must be acknowledged to
ourselves, and receive our earnest attention. This renova-
tion of the affections and the will — this production of new
character — must occur here in this world, or it will never
occur. And after its occurrence, it will still be a slow and
> Tholuck : Predigten, IL 54.
STRENGTH OF SIIS". 223
toilsome process to root out the remainders of sin, and re-
move the last elements of discord and dissension from the
soul.
2. The second inference from this subject must have
been already anticipated — that this inwardizing of the
Divine law ; this " putting the law in the inward parts,
and writing it in the heart " (Jer, xxxi. 33) ; is the work
and office of the Holy Ghost. It is the result of God's
" working in man to will and to do." Sinful man is spir-
itually impotent, and feels himself to be so, particularly
when he undertakes to become the very contrary of what
he is ; when he tries to make himself as totally holy as he is
totally sinful. Let a man look into his own soul, and see
how spontaneously he now does wrong, and how delicious it
now is to indulge himself in that which is forbidden ; and
then let him remember, that in order to heavenly perfec-
tion and blessedness he must come into such an exactly
contrary moral state, that it will be just as spontaneous for
him to do right, and just as delicious for him to keep the
commandments of God — let him, we repeat, look into his
heart and see what the character now is, and what it must
become in order to heaven, and then say if he does not
need the operation and aids of Divine grace. Nothing so
throws a man upon his knees, and prompts the utterance :
" I am the clay, be thou the potter ; turn thou me and I
shall be turned ; purge me with hyssop and I shall be
clean ; create within me a clean heart, O God " — nothing
so drives man away from himself to his Maker and Sa-
viour, as a clear understanding of the immensity of the
work that must be done within his own soul before it is fit
for the heavenly state.
The subject clearly demonstrates the necessity of the
new birth, and of the sanctification of body, soul, and
spirit, that follows it. " Except a man be born again, he
224 THE LAW IS THE STRENGTH OF SIIST.
cannot see the kingdom of God." We have seen from the
unfolding of the text, and human experience will corrob-
orate it, that so long as the Divine law is not an inward
principle of willing and cheerful action for us, and we do
not love it from the heart, it can only be " the strength of
sin " for us. It only accuses of sin ; it only revives and
stimulates the inward corruption ; it only detects and
brings sin to light. This is all the law can do for us as
sinners. The Word of God informs us of a method by
which this state of things can be changed, and we can
stand in the same relation to the law of righteousness that
God himself does, and the holy angels. It is by the wash-
ing of regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost.
If we ask for this we shall receive it. If we seek it, we
shall find it. " For if ye being evil know how to give
good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your
heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask
him." We must pray importunately and incessantly for
renewing and sanctifying grace. When God answers that
prayer — and, in the parable of the widow and the unjust
judge, Christ commands every man to pray until he gets
an answer — when God answers that prayer, the law of ho-
liness shall be made the strength of holiness in our heart
and in our will. It shall become a living principle within
us forever, gathering strength and acquiring settled firm-
ness as we pass on through the ages of a blessed eternity,
and producing in richer and richer bloom the fruits of
holiness and love.
SERMOK XY.
THE SENSE OF SIN LEADS TO HOLINESS, AND THE CONCEIT
OF HOLINESS LEADS TO SIN.
John ix. 41. — "Jesus said unto them, If ye were blind, ye should
have no sin : but now ye say, We see ; therefore your sin renaaineth."
Some of the most striking and significant teachings of
Christ are put into the form of a verbal contradiction.
Taking them literally, they not only contain no sense, but
are not even self -consistent. Such, for example, is the
declaration that " he that findeth his life shall lose it, and
he that loseth his life shall find it." If we read this text
in its connection, so as to understand the intent of our
Lord's teaching, we not only comprehend it, but we per-
ceive that he could not have adopted a more terse and
effective mode of conveying his meaning. The apparent
and verbal contradiction : " He that finds his life shall
lose his life, and he that loses his life shall find his life,"
only serves to impress the lesson all the more vividly upon
the mind. The same remark holds true of such sayings
as these : " Whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken
away even that he hath. Therefore speak I to them in
parables ; because they seeing, see not ; and hearing, they
hear not." In these instances the impressiveness of the
truth taught is all the greater, from its being couched in
terms that would nonplus a mere verbal critic. For such
10*
226 THE SENSE OF SIN.
a critic would begin his analysis and ask : " How can any-
thing be taken away from one who has nothing ? How
can a man see and not see ; how can he hear and not hear;
at one and the same time ? "
The passage of Scripture which we have chosen for a
text is another striking example of the same sort. " Jesus
said unto them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin :
but now ye say, We see ; therefore your sin remaineth."
This startling statement had been preceded, and called
out, by another equally startling and apparently self -con-
tradictory. For Christ had said to the Pharisees : " For
judgment I am come into this world, that they which see
might be made blind." Here, if we interpret the language
in a bald and literal manner, the Son of God represents
his mission to be one of darkness and not of light. He
who calls himself the light of the world, here speaks of
himself as coming into it, not for the purpose of illumi-
nating the human soul, but of darkening it. The Pharisees
were perplexed by such a statement, and asked : " Are
we blind also ? " To whom our Lord made the reply :
" If ye were blind, ye should have no sin : but now ye
say. We see ; therefore your sin remaineth." That is to
say : "If ye Pharisees felt yourselves to be blind ; if
ye were conscious of your mental darkness ; ye would open
your hearts to me, the light of the world, and the sin of
unbelief, which is the greatest of sins, would no longer be
chargeable upon you. But ye are self-satisfied ; ye feel no
need of my teachings ; ye say in the pride of your minds,
We see ; therefore the sin of unbelief remains and rests
upon you."
We condense the teaching of this passage of Scripture
in the proposition, that the sense of sin leads to holiness^
and the conceit of holiness leads to sin.
I. In the first place, the sense of sin conducts to holi-
THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 227
ness, upon the general principle of demand and sujpply.
We are in the habit of saymg, in respect to earthly affairs,
that the demand will always create a supply. If one
nation requires grain from abroad, another nation will
plant, and sow, and reap, to meet the requisition. If
America needs certain manufactured fabrics which it can-
not well produce, the artisans of Paris and Lyons will toil
to furnish them. From year to year, in the world of
trade and commerce, the wants of mankind are met by
the operation of this principle. Though there may be
a temporary dearth, and the demand may go unsupplied
for a time, yet this does not continue long. The rise in
value stimulates production, and the empty markets are
filled again, perhaps to repletion.
The same fact meets us in the operations of Divine
Providence. The goodness of God is over all his works.
He opens his hand, and satisfies the desire of every living
thing. He gives to the beast his food, and to the young
ravens when they cry. The supply equals the demand.
This is the ordinary and common course in the physical
world, under the government and providence of God.
Famines are the exception, and not the rule. Seed-time
and harvest fail not from century to century. The de-
mand for food is supplied. And there is no surplus to be
wasted. There is a wonderful adjustment between the
physical wants of man and the physical objects that meet
them. Though harvests of grain wave over the whole
globe, and millions of mouths are to be fed, the com and
wheat of the world never falls alarmingly short, and, what
is equally remarkable, never rots in large amounts in the
granaries. How wonderful is that eye which sees the end
from the beginning, and though there is an infinitude of
elements that enter into the problem — millions of hungry
mortals, and billions of bushels of grain — yet, as in the
228 THE SENSE OF SIN.
instance of the manna, " he that had gathered much had
nothing over; and he that had gathered little had no
lack." Under the ordinary care of Providence, every
man, in the phrase of Malthus, finds a cover laid for him
at the table of nature ; and those are the exceptions in
which the craving creature is sent empty away ; in which
the demand is not met by the supply.
Much more is this ti-ue within the kingdom of religion
and grace. If God is ready and desirous to meet a demand
within the physical sphere ; if his benevolence leads him to
feed the ravens, and " providently cater for the sparrow ; "
his mercy and compassion render him still more ready and
willing to supply the spiritual wants of his sinful creatures.
We do not Realize it, and perhaps we do not believe it, but
it is a blessed and actual fact that God takes greater
pleasure in filling the hungry soul, than the hungry mouth ;
in feeding the immortal spirit, than in feeding the mortal
body. His declaration is explicit, that he is more willing
to give the IJoly Spirit to them that ask him, than an
earthly parent is to give bread to his children. If there
were only a deinand upon the part of man for the
heavenly food, as urgent and importunate as there is for
the earthly food, the supply would be immediately forth-
coming, and in infinite abundance. If man craved grace
as much as he craves wealth, or honor, the heavens would
drop down and dissolve in a rain of righteousness. Were
mankind as hungry for holiness and purity as they are for
bread ; did the human soul pant for God as it does for
pleasure and fame ; the consequences would astonish men
and angels. For no sinful creature, so long as he is under
an economy of grace, can come to know his religious neces-
sities without crying out for a supply. Can a man hunger,
without begging for food ? Can he thirst, without pleading
for water ? Neither can a sinner become conscious of his
THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 229
corruption, without praying : " Create within me a clean
heart O God, and renew within me a right spirit." And
whenever this is done, it is absohitely certain that the
necessities of the soul will be supplied from God, their ap-
propriate source ; that the supply will equal the demand.
The promises of God are more explicit and unconditional
in respect to heavenly blessings, than in reference to
earthly. We are permitted, for example, to pray for our
earthly bread, for physical health and strength, for the
divine blessing upon our worldly affairs. And there is no
doubt that such requests are often granted. But it is not
so surely certain that God will answer the prayer for daily
bread, as it is that he will answer the prayer for the for-
giveness of sin. You may beg God to restore you to
health from sickness ; to give you competence instead of
poverty ; and he may see fit not to grant your prayer.
But if you put up the publican's petition : " God be mer-
ciful to me a sinner ; " if you entreat with David : " De-
liver me from blood-guiltiness O God, thou God of my
salvation ; " you will certainly obtain an answer. For the
forgiveness of sin is a spiritual blessing, and it can never
do you any injury to grant it. Your prayer for health or
earthly prosperity, if answered, might harm your soul for
time and eternity. But there is no danger to your soul in
pardoning its sins ; and now that Christ has made an
atonement for sin, there is no danger to the Divine govern-
ment in such a remission. You may be uncertain, there-
fore, whether in the instance of a supplication for tem-
poral blessings you will obtain them ; and whenever you
pat up such a petition, you must couple it with the proviso ;
" If it seem good unto thee, O God ; and if not, then thy
will and not mine be done." But when you ask God to
be merciful unto you, and sprinkle your conscience with
the blood of Christ ; when you beseech him to change
230 THE SENSE OF SIN.
your earthly and corrupt nature into liis own pure and
holy likeness ; you need not put in this proviso. For God
has expressly informed you that it is always his will that
a sinner repent of his sin, and seek the Divine mercy in
the blood of Christ ; that it is always his desire that the
" wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his
thoughts ; " and that he is always inclined to have mercy
upon a penitent man, and to abundantly pardon him. Hear
the declaration upon this point, precisely as it stands
in the fifty -fifth chapter of Isaiah. " Seek ye the Lord
while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near.
Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man
his thoughts : and let him return unto the Lord, and he
will have mercy upon him ; and to our God, for he will abun-
dantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the
heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher
than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."
In all this cordial invitation and generous promise, there
are no limitations specified. Our merciful God and Sa-
viour does not tell us that he will forgive sin, and sanctify
the sinful &o\x{, provided he sees it to be compatible with
the attributes of his own nature, with the administration
of his government, and with the best interests of the crea-
ture so to do. All this is provided for. The death
of Christ has already made the pardon of sin compati-
ble with the Divine attributes, and the Divine govern-
ment; and the pardon of sin never had anything in it
that conflicts with the best interests of the sinner. The
invitation is : " Come, for all things are ready." Having
given his Son, God can now with him give all spiritual
blessings. The greater includes the less. There are now
no limitations, or obstructions, in the way of granting these
spiritual gifts to any sinner who wants them ; and we may
THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 231
approach the throne of the heavenly grace, and ask for
them " without an if or an and." Whoever goes to God
asking, in the name of Christ, such gifts as the remission
of sin and the sanctification of his heart, needs put in no
proviso. To bestow such gifts as these always promotes
the glory of God, and always promotes the eternal welfare
of the creature. Therefore this prayer is always heard, if
it be presented through the Mediator. " This is the con-
fidence that we have in him, that if we ask anything ac-
cording to his will [i.e., in accordance with his method of
salvation in Christ] , he heareth us : and if we know that
he hear us, whatsoever we ask [i.e., if we know that our
petition belongs to the class that is invariably granted] , we
know that we have the petitions that we desired of him."
1 John V. 14, 15.
Bnt all this abundant supply supposes a demand. All
this free grace postulates a sense of sin. No man can pray
this prayer for a spiritual blessing ; this prayer which is
always answered ; this prayer which is not hampered by
provisos ; unless he hungers for mercy, and hungers for
holiness. And he cannot hunger for mercy and holiness
unless he feels his destitution. The penitent conscious-
ness of sin is always attended with a spiritual craving ;
and the spiritual craving always finds the spiritual supply
in the gospel ; and thus we see the truth of the first part
of our proposition, that a sense of sin leads indirectly and
ultimately to holiness.
II. We are now ready to show, in the second place, that
the conceit of holiness leads to sin. And here we are met
in the very outset with the fact, that a conceit is in its
oton nature sin. It is self-deception ; an imaginary opin-
ion, founded upon no real basis. A conceited man is, in
so far, a bad man. His self-flattering opinion may relate
to a matter of minor importance, or of major importance
232 THE SENSE OF SIN.
— to the features of his face, or the qualities of his char-
acter— but just so far as in either instance his judgment is
warped and false, there is moral obliquity in him. There
is pride ; and pride in all its forms is sin.
A conceit of holiness, then, is sin and leads to more sin.
The disposition of the Pharisee — the disposition to say,
" We see " — is an insuperable obstacle to every good and
gracious affection in the heart. Christianity is eminently
a religion for the poor in spirit ; for those who have no
self -flattering confidence. Conceit, therefore, in all its
modes and degrees, utterly prevents the rise and progress
of holiness within the soul. But more than this, the con-
ceit of holiness exerts a positively corrupting influence upon
the heart. Its effect is not merely negative. It not only
prevents a man from becoming meek and lowly, but it
puffs him up with pride, and fills him with sin. Let us
examine this point somewhat in detail.
Religion is both a matter of the understanding, and of
the heart. It consists in a true knowledge of Divine
things, and a proper feeling in view of them. Spiritual
perception in combination with spiritual emotion consti-
tutes the sum and substance of practical holiness. If
either is lacking, or deficient, the character is lacking, or
deficient. What now is the effect of a conceit of holiness
upon a man's knowledge of God and himself ? The apos-
tle Paul answers this question very flatly, when he says :
" If any man think that he knoweth anything, he knoweth
nothing yet, as he ought to know." Self -flattery is fatal
to all spiritual discernment. In the first place, it prevents
a true knowledge of one's own heart. The Pharisee who
said in his self-complacency : " God I thank thee that I
am not as other men are," was utterly ignorant of his own
character. He imagined that he knew everything in re-
spect to himself, but he knew absolutely nothing as he
THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 233
ought to have known. Wrapped up in a false opinion
and estimate of his own righteousness, he was not only
blind, but utterly impervious to the light. And in the
second place, self-conceit precludes all true knowledge of
God. The apostle John tells us, that " he that loveth not
knoweth not God, for God is love." There must be some
holy affinity between the heart of man and the Divine
nature, in order that the former may apprehend the latter.
And there must be humility also, in order to a spiritual
discernment. God repulses a proud intellect. He will
not permit it to enter the secret penetralia of his being.
He shuts himself up from all haughty scrutiny on the part
of his creatures ; and the history of human speculation is
the record of the baffled attempts of man's pride of under-
standing to comprehend the Infinite and Eternal. " To this
man will I look, saitli the Lord, even to him that is poor,
and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word."
Whether, therefore, we have reference to the knowledge
of self, or to the knowledge of God, we see that a conceit
of holiness conducts to sin. That spiritual discernment
which is one whole side and phase of holiness is utterly
vitiated by it. So long as it exists, a man can know
neither himself nor his Maker. And without knowledge
religion is impossible.
The other side of holiness consists in the aifections of
the heart. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all
thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." The injurious
influence of a conceit of holiness upon the emotions is even
more apparent than upon the perceptions. Our feelings
are shy and retiring, and hence it is more difficult to feel
than it is to understand. How often does a man say : " I
perceive the truth, but I do not realize it." And nothing
is more deadening to emotion than pride. In everyday
life, we observe the hardening effect of this vice. Let
234 THE SENSE OF SIN.
man or woman be carried, bj prosperity, out of the circles
in which pure tastes and moderate desires rule, into the
circles of frivolous and ambitious life, and how rapidly do
the feelings die out of the soul. The ingenuous and beau-
tiful emotiveness which marked the early life disappears,
and a cold, unemotional self-coUectedness takes its place.
The flush and bloom of the soul is dried up by the arid
breath of artificial society ; by the " pride of life ; " and
all that is substituted in the place of it is a thin, hard var-
nish, or a still harder enamel. But bad as this is in the
social sphere, it is yet worse and more fatal in the prov-
ince of religion. If you would extinguish all religious
sensibility within yourself, become a pharisee. " The
leaven," says our Lord — the characteristic quality — " of
the pharisee, is hypocrisy." Not necessarily deliberate
and intentional hypocrisy, but any self-deception, any false
conceit or opinion. A man may be hypocritical without
deliberately putting on the cloak of false appearances. It
is not necessary that he should take a trumpet, and go out
into the street and sound the trumpet, and make a long
prayer. This is only the extreme of the sin. Any degree
of self-complacency, any degree of false estimate of our
own character, belongs to the species. So long as I do not
smite upon my breast and cry, " God be merciful to me a
sinner ; " so long as I cherish any grade of self-righteous-
ness, any false conceit of myself ; I am pharisaical. Our
Lord undoubtedly intended to make but two general
classes, by relating that story of the publican and pharisee ;
and his searching eye sees in every individual man, either
the spirit of the self-righteous, or the spirit of the self-
condemned. The leaven of the pharisee is the leaven of
human nature — the disposition to think more highly of
ourselves than we ought to think, and the indisposition to
think soberly, humbly, and truthfully. And this leaven
THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 235
of the pharisee accounts for the absence of religious sensi-
bility which everywhere meets us. So long as this false
estimate is characteristic of men, it is impossible for them
to feel seriously and tenderly the claims of God, and the
plague of the heart. Here, too, as in every other prov-
ince, pride hardens and deadens the emotions. Here,
too, the conceit of holiness, the false self -estimate, leads
to sin.
The practical lesson derivable from this text, as thus
unfolded, is a plain and serious one. We learn from it,
the necessity of obtaining the sense of sin. Our Lord said
to the Pharisees : " For judgment I am come into the
world, that they which see not might see, and that they
which see might be made blind." One great purpose of
his mission was to make a discrimination of character, by
the searching tests which he should apply. If, therefore,
we would obtain any eternal benefit from his mission, we
must enter into the spirit of it, and work in accordance
with it. And the only mode in which we can do this, is
to acquire the consciousness of sin. It is our first duty, to
become " blind." So long as we think that we " see," or
say that we " see," we are out of all saving relations to the
gospel, and cannot become Christians.
It was the remark of a thoughtful philosopher, that the
beginning and foundation of true science is a willingness
to be ignorant. By this he meant, that if the human
mind proudly insists upon a perfect comprehension of
everything, it will comprehend nothing. He advocated,
therefore, a moderate and modest estimate of the powers
of the human understanding, an acknowledgment and
recognition of the mysteries of religion and of nature, and,
generally, a reverent and humble attitude of the mind to-
ward all truth. But with how much more truth can it be
said, that the beginning and foundation of religion is a
236 THE SENSE OF SIN.
willingness to be ignorant, and poor, and blind, and naked.
Though, therefore, the teaching is old and oft-repeated,
let us urge it once more upon you, to seek a sense of pov-
erty, of ignorance, and of sin, that you may be prepared
for the riches, the knowledge, and the holiness of the gos-
pel. The instant a vacuum is produced, the atmospheric
air will rush into it. And the instant any human soul be-
comes emptied of its conceit of holiness, and of its self-
righteousness ; the instant it becomes an aching void, and
reaches out after something purer and better ; it is filled
with what it wants.
The sense of sin operates very much like an instinct in
the physical world. An instinct is an uneasy feeling of
want, that leads to some action or movement. The young
bird, for example, that has never yet left the nest, when
its wings and feathers have reached the proper point of
maturity, begins to be restless. It wants to fly. Instinct,
that most mysterious characteristic which the Creator has
impressed upon the entire animal world, is drawing the
little creature away from the narrow house in which it
was hatched, into the wide and boundless firmament of
heaven. And it will never be freed from this restlessness,
until it actually spreads its wings, and soars away never
to come back. Now, a sense of sin — a true and penitent
sense of sin — operates in the same manner. It is a rest-
less and uneasy feeling in the human soul, that leads to
some action or movement. It is true that it differs from
a healthy physical instinct, in that it is a token of disease,
and not of health. The instinct of the little bird, leading
it to fly, is a part of its original created nature ; a part of
that primal creation which God pronounced " good ; "
while the sense of sin in apostate man results from moral
disease, and is indicative of a perversion of man's original
constitution. Still the result is the same, in each instance.
THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 237
The penitent sense of sin fills man with a dissatisfaction
with his present condition, and an aspiration after a better
one. He becomes weary of the narrow nest of time, and
earth, and sense, and sin. He longs to soar out of it, and
beyond it, into the firmament of God.
Can you wonder, therefore, that the preacher, in all
ages of the Church, has said so much concerning the sense
of sin ? that he is so constantly urging upon his hearers,
the importance and necessity of becoming conscious of the
plague of the heart? He knows that when this point
is reached, the principal part of the work, so far as his
agency is concerned, is accomplished ; and that so long as
his hearers are destitute of this experience, nothing has
been done, and nothing can be done, toward their spir-
itual welfare. There must be awakened within them a
spiritual instinct, an internal uneasiness, a restless craving
for something different, and something better. They
must cease saying, " We see," and begin to confess and
cry out, " "We are blind, and poor, and miserable, and
naked, and in want of all things."
Get, then, a conviction and sense of personal unworthi-
ness before God. Dismiss all other aims and enterprises,
and direct your thoughts, and efforts, and prayers, to this
one thing. It would be worth the toil of many years, if
you could thereby induce into your hearts such a sense of
sin as that to which David gives utterance in the fifty-first
psalm ; to which the publican gave expression when he
smote upon his breast, and cried, " God be merciful to me
a sinner ; " to which the prodigal son gave expression when
he said, " Father, I have sinned against heaven and before
thee." The devotee of mammon will toil for years to ac-
quire a fortune ; the devotee of art will " scorn delights,
and live laborious days," to become a great painter, or a
great sculptor. Each of these men can say : " This one
238 THE SENSE OF SIN.
tiling I do." Each of them is a man of one idea. Bat
there is something more important than wealth and art.
The everlasting peace and pnritj of the soul is of infi-
nitely greater moment than any painting or statue, than
mountains of gold and silver. And the way to this peace
and purity is through the consciousness of corruption. We
get the beatific vision, b}'^ first becoming " blind." It is
the sense of sin that leads to holiness. We urge you to
become a devotee to this subject, a man of this one idea.
Determine to know yourself, whether you know anything
else or not. Dare to be ignorant of many things, if
thereby you can acquaint yourself with God and be at
peace. Toil for a knowledge of your own heart, as you
would toil to understand chemistry, if your aspiration
were to become a chemist ; to understand the Greek lan-
guage, if it were your ambition to become a Grecian.
With what cheering emotions would the people of God,
and the angels of God, view such an earnestness upon the
part of the unregenerate. How hopeful would the Chris-
tian Church become, if it should suddenly discover that
men were betaking themselves to the study of their own
corrupt natures, and were determined to find out how sin-
ful they actually are in the sight of God.
As an encouragement to this endeavor, we remind you,
in conclusion, that in it you may confidently rely upon the
aid and influence of the Holy Spirit ; upon the teaching
and illumination of the Third Person in the Godhead.
Should you propose to yourself to become merely a chem-
ist, or a Greek scholar, or a sculptor, or a millionaire, you
would not necessarily rely upon any such aid or influence.
You might work with the ordinary powers and faculties of
the human soul, sustained by the ordinary power of Di-
vine Providence. A man does not need the supernatural
influences of the Holy Ghost, in order to become either
THE CONCEIT OF HOLINESS. 239
learned or wealthy. And too generally scholars and mil-
lionaires toil on in their own strength, without even know-
ing whether there be any Holy Ghost.
But in everything pertaining to religion, and the wel-
fare of the soul, we are entirely dependent upon gracious
influences and impressions. And in urging you to this toil
and effort to obtain a humble sense of personal unworthi-
ness before God, we say unto you in the language of the
apostle : " Work, for it is God that worketh in you." We
remind you of the great and cheering motive which you
have to commence the study of your own heart, in the fact
that the Holy Spirit is the Searcher of the heart, and his
enlightening influences are promised and proffered. Were
you to be isolated from God, and to be compelled to ac-
quire this salutary self-knowledge by your own unaided
scrutiny, we should have no hope of your succeeding. The
human heart is deceitful above all things, and its innumer-
able devices and self -flatteries would be too much for you.
The very heart which is to be searched, and whose corrup-
tion is to be discovered, would persuade you that all is
well, and that your anxiety is needless, or greatly exagger-
ated. But God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all
things. He understands the devices and deceits of the
human soul, and will conduct every man safely through
them who submits to his guidance.
From this time forth, then, scrutinize your personal
character, in reliance upon the inward illumination of
the truth and Spirit of God. Your first and indispen-
sable work and duty is, in our Lord's phrase, to become
" blind " — to become conscious of mental darkness and
ignorance. Christ has " come into the world, that they
which see not might see, and that they which see might
be made blind." One would think it to be an easy
and a simple matter, to comply with such a requisition.
240 THE SENSE OF SIN.
"We are not commanded or expected to furnish the
light ; but merely to become sensible of our darkness.
God does not oblige us to create the food by which our
souls live, but simply to hunger after it. We have only to
open our mouths, and he will fill them. By his prophet
he says : " Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it. Come,
buy wine and milk, without money and without price."
All spiritual blessings, from first to last, are gifts of God,
without any equivalent being expected from us. This
knowlege of our hearts, of which we have been speaking,
is one of these gratuities. Any man can have it for the
asking. If, therefore, any man neglects it, and does not
come into possession of it, it is because he dislikes it. He
does not want to know his own heart. He prefers to con-
tinue in ignorance. And for a soul that desires to remain
in the ignorance of sin ; that prefers the darkened under-
standing of the state of nature, to the enlightened mind of
the state of grace ; there is no hope. If there is no de-
mand, there is no supply. To such a soul must be ad-
dressed those solemn words of our Lord : " Light has
come into the world ; but thou lovest darkness rather than
light, because thy deeds are evil."
SEEMON XVI.
THE IMPRESSION MADE BY CHRIST'S HOLINESS.
Luke V. 8. — "When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus'
knees, saying : Depart from me ; for I am a sinful man, O Lord."
The occurrence which called forth this at first sight sin-
gular request from Peter, is one of the many interesting
incidents which throw such a charm over the narratives
of the Evangelists. Christ had entered into the fishing-
boat of his newly called disciple, that, free from the press-
ure of the people who thronged to hear him, he might
teach them those truths which are spirit and life to all
who receive them into good and honest hearts. Having
ended his discourse, he requested Peter to move his boat
into deeper water, farther from the shore, and to " let
down his net for a draught." The disciple complied with
the request, more, it would seem, from respect to his Mas-
ter, than from any expectation of a successful result, for
he says : " Master, we have toiled all the night and have
taken nothing ; nevertheless at thy word I will let down
the net." But that word was the word of " Him by whom
all things were made, and without whom was not anything
made that was made." Though the disciple did not at
that moment realize it, yet God Almighty was standing be-
side him in the little fishing-boat — that infinite Being who
possesses a mysterious power over all the world of natural
n
242 THE IMPRESSION MADE
as well as spiritual life. Hence the miraculous draught of
fishes which followed the obedience of Peter. This won-
derful event came unexpectedly upon him. The certainty
that he was in the presence of a higher Being than man,
then flashed upon him. "With this knowledge, a sense of
his own sinfulness arose within him, and the spontaneous
utterance of his heart was : " Depart from me, O Lord, for
I am a sinful man."
This is the natural effect of all immediate and startling
manifestations of the Deity to fallen man. The flash of
lightning produces a twinge of conscience ; the roll of
thunder makes the guilty tremble.' Should God instan-
taneously rend the heavens and come down, as he will in
the day of doom, every eye would see him, and every
soul would be conscious of sin. When the same dread
Being, by a series of searching and significant questions
respecting the wonderful movements and processes in the
world of nature, had brought into clear light his own great-
ness and majesty. Job, the sinful man, answered the Lord
and said : " Behold, I am vile ; what shall I answer Thee ?
I will lay my hand upon my mouth." Those questions
which God put out of the whirlwind : " Where wast thou
when I laid the foundations of the earth ? Hast thou
commanded the day-spring to know its place ? Hast thou
entered into the springs of the sea, or hast thou walked in
the search of the depth ? Doth the hawk fly by thy wis-
dom, and stretch her wings towards the south ? Doth the
eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on
high ? " — these significant questions were, for the patriarch,
what this miraculous draught of fishes was for the apostle.
And hence the like result in each instance — an abasing
sense of sin in the more immediate presence of God. In
that hour when the fingers of a man's hand came forth
' Compare Horace, Odes, I. xxxiv.
BY cheist's holiness. 243
and wrote incandescent letters upon the wall of the palace,
the countenance of Belshazzar, the guilty Babylonian
monarch, was changed, and his thoughts troubled him, so
that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees smote
one against another. (Dan. v. 6.) "When Daniel, the man
greatly beloved of God, yet not freed from the taint of
mortal corruption, saw the vision of the contending em-
pires, and heard the explanatory words of the archangel
Gabriel, " he fainted and was sick certain days." And
when he afterwards saw, upon the banks of Hiddekel, One
clothed in linen, whose loins were girded with fine gold of
Uphaz, his body like the beryl, his face as the appearance
of lightning, his eyes as lamps of fire, his arms and his
feet like in color to polished brass, and the voice of his
words like the voice of a multitude, " there remained no
strength in him : for his comeliness was turned into cor-
ruption, and he retained no strength." (Dan. viii. 27 ; x. 8.)
There are various modes in which the Divine character
is brought vividly before the mind, and thus the feeling of
sinfulness educed. There are many objects which are the
occasion of directing attention to the holiness and immac-
ulateness of God, and thus, by contrast, of disclosing the
imperfection and pollution of man. Material nature is
full of symbols, which are a kind of language by which
the soul is told of spiritual truths. " The heavens declare
the glory of God." The clear cerulean sky speaks of God's
purity to the soul that desires and strives to be pure, and
sorrowfully feels its corruption. The crimson of the clouds
that gather round the rising sun reminded the guilt-smit-
ten and lowly Cowper, of the blood which cleanses and
atones :
" Light appears with early dawn
While the sun makes haste to rise ;
See His bleeding beauties drawn
On the blushes of the skies. "
244 THE IMPRESSION MADE
But while the manifestation of God in the works of his
hands has power to display the Divine excellence, and by
contrast, human corruption, the manifestation of God in
the flesh, the incai'nation of the Deity, has a far greater
power. Many a man has had fleeting emotions called up
by the former that have produced no abiding effect.'
' Many a man, amidst the glorious or terrible scenes of the
material world, has had transient feelings of awe, and per-
haps an evanescent sense of ill-desert. But these influ-
ences from nature, though when made effective by higher
ones they may form a part of the current which bears the
spirit back to God, are not the primary and most effica-
cious influences. It is the view of God manifest in the
flesh, alone, which produces a salutary sense of sinfulness.
Christ assures his disciples in his farewell discourse to
them, that he will send them the Holy Ghost who will
glorify Him ; for he should receive of His, and should
show Him unto them. (John xvi. 14.) The Divine Spirit,
in this promise, is represented as tributary to Jesus Christ.
Through this heavenly teaching, they should obtain a view
of the Son of God and the Son of man that would be as
palpable for the mind and heart, as his bodily form had
been for their senses. This knowledge of Christ's person
and work is impossible to the natural man. " The world,"
that is, the worldly mind, says Christ, " cannot see me, nor
know me ; but ye see me, for I am in you, and will be
' Whether nature teaches any religious truth, depends altogether
upon the moral condition of the pupil. Justus Moser, in his "Letter
to the Savoyard Vicar," in which he refutes Rousseau's theory that nat-
ural religion, or the religious sentiment, is sufficient for mankind, and
that there is no need of doctrines and creeds, remarks that "the
preaching of the works of God which we have daily before our eyes is
like the chattering song of a canary bird, which the owner at length
ceases entirely to hear or notice, while every one who comes into the
room is deafened by it." — Hagenbach : Vorlesuugen, I. 217.
BY Christ's holiness. 245
with yoTi." (John xiv. 17-19.) Let us, then, turn onr re-
flections to some features in this portraiture of the Re-
deemer bj the Holy Ghost, which are fitted to cause the
imperfectly sanctified Christian to cry out with the apos-
tle Peter : " Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O
Lord."
I. In the first place, a view of the character of Jesus
Christ awakens the feeling of sinfulness. It is absolutely
perfect. Sanctity both in mind and heart is found at its
height in it. Even he who has contemplated it long, and
carefully, feels that but little of its fulness and richness
has been seen. For Christ is the brightness of the Father's
glory, and the exact image of his person ; and therefore
cannot be found out to perfection. The character of Jesus
is fathomless ; and what has been remarked of Christianity
by one of the early Roman bishops, may with equal truth
be said of the character of its Author : " It is like the
firmament; the more diligently you search it, the more
stars will you discover. It is like the ocean ; the longer
you regard it, the more immeasurable will it appear to
you." When the characteristic qualities of Christ are
distinctly beheld in their holy and spotless beauty by a
sinful man, the contrast is felt immediately. The instant
that his eye rests upon the sinlessness of Jesus, it turns
involuntarily to the sinfulness of himself. He realizes that
he is a different man from " the man Christ Jesus ; " and
that except so far as he is changed by Divine grace, there
can be no sympathy and union with him. In this clear
light, he is conscious that his is a defiled and polluted na-
ture, and that it is not fit to come in contact with the purity
of the Son of God. His own forebodings and fears of judg-
ment have nothing in common with the innocence and
serenity of Jesus. He feels that he is not worthy of com-
panionship with so spotless a Being, or to enter that pure
246 THE IMPRESSION MADE
world where Christ sitteth at the right hand of the Hoi j
Father, and where all the spirits that surround him are
immaculate. Though he knows that unless he is ulti-
mately a constant companion of the Redeemer, he must
be shut out from him, and be " filthy still," yet the sense
of unworthiness thus awakened by contrasting himself
with the Saviour prompts him instinctively to say : " De-
part from me, O Lord, for I am a sinful man." Seeing
no spot or wrinkle upon the soul of Christ, and comparing
his own spotted and wrinkled soul with it, a sense of
amazement rises within him that he should become the
temple of the Holy Ghost, and that his unclean spirit
should be selected by the Eternal Father and the Eternal
Son to make their abode in.
This is a proper and blessed mood for an imperfectly
sanctified Christian. It corresponds with the facts of the
case. When he obtains this clear view of Christ's per-
fections, he becomes truly meek — the most difficult of the
graces — and is filled with that penitential lowliness of
heart which keeps him at the foot of the cross. How can
pride, the essence of sin, dwell in such a spirit ? It is ex-
cluded. For the believer is absorbed in this view of his
immaculate Redeemer, which shames him, yet rouses him
to action and imitation. He has "the ornament of a
meek and quiet spirit," because the holy eye of the Master
is upon him, and he knows himself to be an unworthy dis-
ciple— yet a disciple, and not an enemy of the Lord.
II. Intimately connected, in the second place, with a
view of Christ's character, is that of Christ's daily life.
When this with its train of holy actions passes before the
mind of the believer, it produces a deep sense of indwell-
ing sin. For the every-day life is the unfolding and accent
of the character ; and the same elements of power that are
found in the one appear yet more clearly in the other.
BY Christ's holiness. 247
That celestial spotlessness in the inmost nature and dis-
position of Christ, which awakens the consciousness of sin,
when reappearing in the daily conduct of Christ produces
the same effect. Or rather its effective power is enhanced,
inasmuch as it comes into our notice active and working
amidst the ordinary relations and circumstances of human
life. It was only an internal principle before ; it is now
an external product, bright and beaming with energy, and
displaying itself in the very midst of men and things.
The dark root has become a brilliant flower. Every ob-
server knows the additional force which a moral principle,
or attribute, acquires as soon as it takes up its residence
in a man, and is shown out in a man's conduct. What
wonderful energy, for example, did the abstract doctrine
of justification by faith gain to itself, when it became in-
carnate in Martin Luther ; incorporated into the substan-
tial mass of his feelings and moral wants. The moment
that it ceased to be a mere letter upon the page of Scrip-
ture, where it had been through all the papal centuries,
and became a vivid principle of belief and action in the
heart of the reformer, that moment it acquired a power
under God to make the falling Church stand up in the
pristine vigor of its youth. It became a possessing spirit,
as it were, dwelling in Luther's mighty and passionate
nature, and sending though his instrumentality a reforming
influence through the Church, and through the world. Or,
to take another instance, let the principle of avarice, the
abstract vice, twine itself into the moral nature of a man,
and become a concrete working force within him, and how
it turns all that he touches into gold ; how it transforms
the very man himself, so that it issues from him like black
rays, and throws an air of miserliness and hard-hearted-
ness over him in all the relations of life.
Kow, the attribute of Divine holiness appears in this
248 THE IMPEESSION MADE
vivid biographical way, in the daily conduct of Christ.
Our Saviour was God with all his attributes manifested
in the flesh — a perfect and blameless man, therefore, in
all the varied relations of human life ; knowing both the
weakness and the strength of humanity, yet in all cases
without sin. And what a holy phenomenon is his life in
the flesh ! The human nature Avhich he assumed is trans-
figured and glorified by this indwelling of Divinity, and
becomes its white and glistening raiment.
If, now, we obtain a clear view of Christ's daily life, and
let our own worthless life be seen in its light, we shall feel
deeply that we are fallen creatures. When we witness his
constant holiness and love, appearing wherever he appears,
be it before a friend or an enemy ; * when we never for an
instant see the placid surface of his soul ruffled by passion,
but always find spiritual objects mirrored in quiet beauty
there ; when we notice the absolute control which he pos-
sessed over all the energies and impulses of his spirit ;
how even his most fleeting thoughts were all pure, and
even his most evanescent feelings were suffused with the
righteous and holy love which was his nature — when we
behold all this exhibited in a life among wicked men, and
virulent enemies, and amidst strong temptations, are we
not painfully reminded of our passionate, impetuous, un-
govemed, and sinful life ? If we would but study with
humble earnestness the biography of Christ, as detailed
in the Gospels, we could not fail of becoming convinced
of sin ; and as in this way we carried ourselves back to the
time when he was upon earth, and placed ourselves within
the circle of his influence along with his first disciples, we
should, through grace helping us, acquire that constant
' It is a tradition of the Church, that "Peter wept whenever he re-
membered the sweet mildness of Christ which he showed in his daily
conyersation." — Luther on Galatians v. 21.
BY cheist's holiness. 249
sense of unworthiness, in comparison with Him, which
runs through their narratives. His whole pure life would
disclose our corruption ; and we should receive a healthful
influence from many a slight incident in the Gospel narra-
tives which now escapes oiu* careless eye, even as a healing
virtue was once experienced by touching the mere hem of
his garment.
In what has thus far been said, it has been assumed that
there is remaining sin even in the most spiritual and ex-
cellent of Christ's disciples, and that if fitting objects are
presented, the feeling of unworthiness will rise up as natur-
ally as the power of a magnet will exhibit itself when its
appropriate eliciting object is brought near it. But the
consciousness of sin takes on two forms, which may be
distinguished but not divided from each other. Only one
form — that of a sense of corruption, and of unconformity
with the law of God — has been principally in view, in
what has thus far been said respecting the character and
life of Christ, The other form which the consciousness
of sin assumes, is that of a sense of guilt, and of merited
exposure to punishment. The feeling which prompts a
transgressor to say : " I have disobeyed the law of God,
and deserve to suffer for it," is plainly distinct from the
feeling which leads him to say : " I am carnal and corrupt
in my propensities, and desire to be made pure and spirit-
ual." The reference in the first instance is an external
and objective one — namely, to the majesty of God, and the
claims of his law. In the last instance, the reference is an
internal and subjective one — namely, to the condition and
wants of the human heart. The feeling of guilt goes away
from self, and terminates upon another Being, even God,
the Holy, and the Just. It is, therefore, less liable to be
mingled with selfish elements than is the feeling of inward
corruption. This latter is blended with a sense of personal
11*
250 THE IMPRESSION MADE
unrest and nnhappiness, and hence needs to be watched
lest it degenerate into a refined selfishness. The two
feelings are clearly distinguishable, although they exist
side by side in the soul ; and both are equally necessary in
order to a complete evangelical experience. The conscious-
ness of culpability, or of crivne, is one of the most radical
and profound phases of human consciousness ; and it can
be removed only by the most strange and wonderful of
agencies. It is easier to provide for man's corruption, than
for man's guilt. The Holy Ghost, by a sanctifying agency,
can remove the soul's pollution ; but only the substituted
passion and agony of incarnate Deity can remove the soul's
guilt. Spiritual influences can purify, but they cannot ex-
piate. Had there not been this crimson tincture of crim-
inality in human depravity, the incarnation and passion of
the Second Person in the Godliead would not have been
necessary. Had there been no guilt to atone for, the Tri-
une God could have sat in the heavens, and by an inward
influence have turned the human heart to righteousness,
even as the rivers of water are turned.
It is this guilt-consciousness which gives itself vent in
the sacrifices of Heathenism, as well as those of Judaism.
It is this emotion, working, it is true, in an obscure, yet
in a powerful manner, and filling him with that anxious
foreboding of a coming retribution of which St. Paul
speaks, that causes the pagan to yearn after a sacrifice of
" richer blood " than that of bulls and goats, and makes
the blood of Christ so grateful to his anguished spirit,
when the missionary says : " Behold the Lamb of God —
behold the real and true atonement for sin." Much as
man fears punishment, his moral nature is so constituted
that it demands it, in order to its own satisfaction. Man's
heart hates the penalty of sin ; but man's conscience in-
sists upon it. And it opens to us a very solemn view of
BY cheist's holiness. 251
the final state of a lost soul, when we consider that that
very judicial infliction which is the cause of its distress, is
felt by itself to be just and necessary under the govern-
ment of God. So deeply has the Creator implanted the
judicial principle in man, that wherever he may be, it de-
mands, by an instinctive action that is altogether indepen-
dent of the wishes of the heart, that law and justice take
their course, even if he be miserable to all eternity. And
it is to provide for this dispassionate and impartial sense
of ill-desert, which is so distinct from the sense of corrup-
tion and misery, that Christ's atoning death on the cross
is so distinct from the Holy Spirit's work within the heart.
One thing is set over against another, in the plan of Re-
demption. Christ's blood expiates my guilt. Christ's
Spirit purifies my corruption.
This sense of sin as related to justice should hold a
prominent place in the Christian experience ; and in pro-
portion as it is first vividly elicited by the operation of the
law, and then is completely pacified by a view of Christ as
suffering " the just for the unjust," will be the depth of
our love towards him, and the simplicity and entireness of
our trust in him. Those who, like Paul and Luther, have
had the clearest perception of the iniquity of sin, and of
their own criminality before God, have had the most lu-
minous and constraining view of Christ as the " Lamb of
God ; " while, at the same time, the life of Christ in the
soul, the process of sanctification, has reached its highest
degree, and matured the fruits of holiness in their richest
bloom. The experience was not one-sided, and thus neither
side suffered.
HI. Having thus directed attention to the fact that there
is such a distinct feeling as guilt, we remark, in the third
place, that the contemplation of the suffe7'ings and death
of Christ both elicits and pacifies it, in the believer, Christ's
252 THE IMPRESSIOTiT MADE
whole life upon earth was a continuous state of humilia-
tion and suffering, but his last anguish and death are rep-
resented as eminently the atoning sacrifice for the sin of
the world ; inasmuch as at this point the flood of his sor-
rows reached its height, and gathered and settled upon
Calvary, like a tarn of deep and black water in a volcanic
crater. Hence a clear view of those scenes in the Garden,
and on the Cross, will arrest the believer's attention, and
fix his thoughts upon that particular quality in himself,
that specific element in sin, which rendered the agony and
death of such a Being necessary. As he becomes a wit-
ness of that mysterious distress under the olive trees — that
inward shrinking of One who never shrank before, and
who never shrank afterwards — which wrung from him the
earnest yet submissive prayer : " O my Father, if it be
possible let this cup pass from me ; " as he follows him
through his trial of mockings and scourgings, and sees the
consummation of his Passion upon the cross, and hears the
words : " My God, why hast thou forsaken me ? " betoken-
ing greater anguish in the soul than the body was under-
going— as the believer obtains a clear understanding of all
these events, he is instinctively prompted by the feeling
of personal ill-desert which now rises within him, to say :
" The punishment which I deserve was assumed by that
innocent God-man. He, then and there, was wounded for
my transgression, was bruised for my iniquity." He sees
in the death of Christ a manifestation of God's righteous
displeasure against sin, and says to himself : " If it was
not possible to let that cup pass, and if Eternal Justice
could throw no lenitive into the bitter potion which the
sinner's Substitute voluntarily put to his own lips, does
not the real criminal himself deserve to 'drink of the wine
of the wrath of God, which is poured out without mixture
into the cup of his indignation?'" Absorbed in the con-
BY cheist's holiness. 253
templation of this great Divine sacrifice for the sin of the
world, the feeling that retribution is what a sinner deserves
swallows np for the time all others ; and the believer
stands before the bar of justice taking sides with the law
against himself, and heartily confessing that his condem-
nation is righteous. Whoever beholds human trans-
gression in the light of the Cross, has no doubts as to the
nature and character of the Being nailed to it ; and he has
no doubts as to his own nature and character. The dis-
tinct and intelligent feeling of culpability forbids that he
should omit to look at sin iij its penal relations, and en-
ables him to understand these relations. The vicarious
atonement of Christ is well comprehended because it is pre-
cisely what the guilt-smitten conscience craves, in its rest-
lessness and anguish. The believer now has wants which
are met in this sacrifice. His moral feelings are all awake,
and the fundamental feeling of guilt pervades and tinges
them all ; until, in genuine contrition, he holds up the Lamb
of God in his prayer for mercy, and cries out to the Just
One : " This oblation which Thou Thyself hast provided is
my propitiation ; this atones for my sin." Then the expiat-
ing blood is applied by the Holy Ghost, and the conscience
is filled with the peace of God that passeth all understand-
ing. "Then," to use the language of Leighton,' "the
conscience makes answer to God : ' Lord, I have found
that there is no standing in the judgment before thee, for
the soul in itself is overwhelmed with a world of guilti-
ness ; but I find a blood sprinkled upon it that hath, I am
sure, virtue enough to purge it all away, and to present it
pure unto thee. And I know that wheresoever thou find-
est that blood sprinkled, thine anger is quenched and
appeased immediately upon the sight of it. Thine hand
cannot smite when that blood is before thine eye.' "
' Commentary on 1 Peter iii. 21.
254 THE IMPRESSION MADE
We have thus considered the effect, in awakening a
sense of sin, produced by a clear view of the character,
life, and death of Christ, But how dim and indistinct is
our vision of all this ! It should be one of our most dis-
tinct and earnest aims, to set a crucified Redeemer visibly
before our eyes. " I determined," said St. Paul, " to know
nothing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him cruci-
fied." There are other aspects of the God-man which we
may contemplate in their own time and place ; but he is
not upon a high and firm evangelic position, who finds it
difiicult to account for the deaiA of the God-man ; who
detects in himself the secret query whether there really is
anything in the nature of sin, and the character of God,
that renders it rational and necessary. For, such doubt
and querying originate in a defective knowledge of sin.
Only bring out into vividness the consciousness of guilt ;
only fill the soul with a sense of utter ill-desert, and there
will be the uplifting of the despairing eye to that central
Cross, and the simple looking will be the explanation of
the mystery, as it stills the throbbing conscience. This
accounts for the immediateness with which Christ on the
Cross is beheld, if beheld at all ; and the reason why he
cannot be seen by indirection, and roundabout. Like a
flash of light ; like an explosion of sound ; the peace of
God takes the place of remorse, when guilt and atonement
come together in the personal experience.
It is our duty, and our wisdom, to cultivate a purer and
more spiritual conviction of sin, that we may feel that
spiritual hunger, and that spiritual thirst, which makes
Christ's atonement vital to the soul. His own words
are : " Except ye eat my flesh and drink my blood, ye have
no life in you." But how can the full-fed and self -satiated
be famine-struck ? How can the self-indulgent and lux-
urious know anything of burning thirst ? How can torpid
BY Christ's holiness. 255
sin feel guilt ? We need to experience the keen incisive
force of God's truth, and God's law, cutting into our proud
flesh, and by its probing preparing us for the balsam and
the balm.
Let us, then, lift up our hearts, and seek this preparation
for the sprinkling of the blood of expiation. Let us by
every means in our power — by prayer, by self-examina-
tion, and by absorbing meditation upon Christ's character,
daily life, and last sufferings — awaken a pure and poig-
nant sense of unworthiness and ill-desert, so that when
we give utterance to it in the words of Peter : " Depart
from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord," the Lord him-
self shall say to us : " Be of good cheer, thy sins are for-
given thee."
SERMON XYII.
CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.
1 Peter v. 5. — " Be clothed TPith humilitj."
Humility is a grace that pertains exclusively to the
Christian religion. The better codes of pagan morality
recommend some of the virtues of our religion — such as
benevolence, justice, truthfulness, and the like — but this
quality of meekness, which is so prominent in the Scrip-
tures, and with which we are commanded to be " clothed "
as with a garment, escaped the notice of the heathen
sages. They do not appear to have distinguished be-
tween a reverential and proper prostration of soul, and a
cringing, cowardly meanness of temper. Hence the Greek
word {Ta7r€t,vo(f)po(Tvv'r)) employed by the Kew Testament
writers to denote this grace, which is one of the fairest
fruits and distinctive marks of the religion of the gospel,
in its original classical meaning signified a servile pusilla-
nimity. The man who possessed this quality, in the
opinion of the proud Greek, was a man of small soul.* So
that in this instance, as in many others, a single word, by
being brought into the service of Christian doctrine, and
' Trench (Synonyms of the New Testament) shows, however, that
Plato, and particularly Aristotle, sometimes approached the borders of
the truth in respect to this moral trait.
CHEISTIAN HUMILITY. 257
employed as the vehicle of Christian truth, is thereby en-
nobled, and becomes the exponent of a higher and better
idea ; a specimen of what Christianity does for everything
that comes to be in any way connected with it. Man,
when he has become a Christian, is a higher style of man
than he was before. JSTature, when viewed by a Christian
eye, and mused upon with a Christian contemplation, is
transfigured, and sounds forth a deeper music, and shows
a richer bloom than meet the ear and eye of the world-
ling. So true is it, that "godliness is profitable for all
things."
In looking for a moment into the nature of humility, we
discover, as has been remarked, that it does not involve
meanness or servility. It is not pusillanimity. It con-
tains no element that degrades human nature, or exposes it
to legitimate contempt. It is not the quality of a slave,
but of kings and priests unto God. It is a necessary trait
in all finite character, and therefore it is perfectly consis-
tent with an inviolable dignity and self-respect. Look at
it as it appears in living beauty in the pattern-man, the
model of humanity — in Him who was "meek and lowly
of heart." Christ was the ideal of man. Our nature
reached its acme of perfection in him. But throughout
his entire human life upon earth, he was a lowly and con-
descending being. Not a scintilla of pride or arrogance
ever flashed in his actions. The sweetest and most gentle
meekness pervades the whole appearance which he presents
in the Gospels. It casts its silver, softening light over all
his life ; it is the serene element in which he lived, moved,
and had his being. And yet, how dignified was the Son
of man. The potentates of the world are fond of arrogat-
ing to themselves the title of " serene highness." By it,
they would indicate that their exaltation is so lofty, that it
is unaffected by the contests and turmoil of the lower re-
258 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.
gion in which the common mass of men live. Their posi-
tion is wholly inaccessible, and therefore their temper is
perfectly calm. But what a " serene highness " envelops
the character of Christ, like a halo. What greatness ac-
companies the gentleness. Even Rousseau, who had no
meekness, and no love for the trait, acknowledged that the
character of Christ is the most lofty one in history. He
thought it so sublime as to say, that if it had been the
mere idealizing and invention of the unlettered evangel-
ists, they would have performed a greater miracle than
even the character itself was.
And do we, in contemplating the character of Jesus,
find that the humility which he exhibited lowers it in the
least in our estimation ? Look at that scene in which this
trait appears in a very striking manner — the washing of
his disciples' feet. " Jesus [though] knowing that the
Father had given all things into his hands, and that he
was come from God, and went to God " — this Divine
Being, while holding all things in his power, and issu-
ing from Eternity, and returning to it when he chose —
[yet] " riseth from supper and laid aside his garments,
and took a towel, and girded himself. After that, he
poureth water into a bason, and began to wash the disci-
ples' feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he
was girded." Connected with this in itself menial act, is
there even the slightest thought of self-degradation ? We
may be astonished at the condescension, as Peter was when
he cried : " Lord, dost thou wash my feet ? " But the
idea that Christ forfeited his personal dignity ; that he
forgot his human position, and did an improper act, out
of keeping with it; never for an instant enters our minds,
as we read this narrative and ponder upon it. Does not
this menial office, which would excite pity if performed
by a slave from fear or compulsion, cause us involuntarily
CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 259
to bow in reverence? When the Roman pontiff, sur-
rounded by his cardinals and announced by a salvo of
artillery, with great pomp and external show apes this
beautiful and dignified condescension of the Son of man,
and washes the feet of a Roman beggar, the spectator looks
on with scorn, or turns away in pity. But not so with the
original, of which this is the poor and blasphemous mim-
icry. The blending, in the God-man, of a divine dignity
and majesty, with a human and affectionate condescension
towards his disciples and his brethren, will ever waken ad-
miration in him who is possessed merely of a cultivated
taste, like Rousseau ; much more must it waken revering
love, and a desire really to imitate it, in the believer who
feels his own unworthiness, and beholds in Christ the
" brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image
of his person."
These considerations are sufficient to indicate the true
nature of humility, in contradiction to the pagan concep-
tion of it. We are certain that there is nothing in it
kindred to servility, or pusillanimity, when we see it lend-
ing a charm to the most perfect and symmetrical life that
was ever lived upon earth. We can form a very safe esti-
mate of any quality or trait, by looking at it in actual
daily life ; by seeing it as it weaves itself into the web of
human actions and relations. If it look lovely and admir-
able there ; if we find it, in Wordsworth's phrase,
" not too good
For human nature's daily food,
And yet a spirit still and bright,
With something of an angel light,"
then it must be so in its abstract, intrinsic nature. Hu-
mility, therefore, must be a worthy and noble trait ; for it
was an attribute of the noblest of beings; it nms like a
260 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.
bright silken thread through the holiest and most beauti-
ful life.
"We are commanded, in the text, to be " clothed " with
this grace ; to wear it as a garment that wraps the wearer
all over like a cloak ; to appear in it as a habit or dress
wherever we go. Let us notice some of the reasons for
this command. And inasmuch as the light of the gospel
first disclosed this grace, which had escaped the notice of
the wisdom of this world, let us view it in this light. Let
us take our stand upon Christianity, and from what it
teaches concerning the nature of God and the nature of
man, and their mutual relations, let us see that there are
conclusive reasons why every man, without exception,
should be humble.
I. In the first place, humility is becoming to man, be-
cause he is a creature. There is no difference so great as
that between the Creator and the creature. The distance
between man and the house which he builds, or the cloth
which he manufactures, is very great, but it is not equal to
that between God and man. The house and the cloth are
made out of existing materials ; but God made man out of
the dust of the earth, and the dust of the earth he made
out of nothing. In this creaturely relation, therefore,
there is not the slightest opportunity or ground for pride.
Shall a being who was originated from nonentity by
almighty power, and who can be reduced again to non-
entity by that same power — shall a being who a little
while ago had no existence, and in an instant might
vanish into non-existence, swell with haughtiness ? Surely,
humility is the fitting emotion for a created being. " Talk
no more so exceeding proudly : let not arrogancy come
out of your mouth ; for the Lord is a God of knowledge,
and by him actions are weighed " (1 Sam. ii. 3).
The distance between man and his Maker is so great,
CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 261
that the instinctive feeling which is elicited is that of
dread. If we examine the pagan religions, we discover
that a vague and oppressing terror before the Deity is the
predominating emotion in them all. Thej denominate
him the " Unknown God," and Panl found even the cul-
tivated Greek bowing down in abject fear. But such an
emotion as this is destructive of true humility. It is too
tumultuous and terrifying, to allow of such a gentle, such
a quiet, and such an affectionate feeling as the gospel low-
liness and meekness. If the human soul be filled with a
shadowy and anxious dread before an agnostic God, and it
ignorantly worships him under the suffocating influence of
this feeling, there can be none of that intelligent and calm
self -prostration which the text enjoins. We must have
some truthful and definite apprehension of God ; he must
be something more for us than a dark abyss of being into
whose vortex the little atom is swallowed up and lost ; in
order to bow down before him with filial reverence, and
entire submission. Revelation gives man this clear and
intelligent view. It darts a bright beam of light through
the infinite distance which separates the creature from the
Creator. It reveals him as " the high and lofty One that
inhabits eternity ; " and also as " dwelling with him that
is of an humble and contrite heart, to revive and to bless."
It describes him as the august Being whose name is " I am,"
the " Holy Lord God Almighty which was, and is, and is
to come ; " and also as " the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ," through whom we have the forgiveness of
sins, and the hope of everlasting life. In combining the
infinite majesty with the infinite condescension, the Bible
lays the foundation for a genuine humility that is heaven-
wide from the servile terror of the pagan devotee. It is a
tender and gentle emotion. Well does our Lord say, that
he who carries it as a yoke, finds it an " easy " one ; that
262 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.
he who bears it as a burden, feels that it is a "light"
one. Well does he say, that that soul which learns of him,
and becomes meek and lowly of heart, "finds rest."
Humility, again, is an ennobling emotion, because it
brings man into his right position before God. That be-
ing belittles himself who gets out of his place, and occupies
one that does not belong to him. In our Lord's parable,
the man who took the highest seat in the synagogue dis-
graced himself in the very act. He went where he was
not entitled to go, and he was put back where he properly
belonged. But he who took the lowest room, he who did
not claim the highest place as his proper position, was re-
warded for his humble and just estimate of himself by the
invitation to "go up higher." Precisely so is it with the
creature's relations to God. He who is conscious of his in-
significance before his Maker, and in comparison with his
Maker, is thereby exalted to a height that can be reached
ill no other way. We see this in the act of worship. When
we adore the Infinite Jehovah, and give him the glory that
is due unto his name, our whole mood and temper is lowly.
And we are in our right place. We ought to lie low at
the footstool of the Eternal. And having done this ; hav-
ing worshipped the King eternal, immortal, and invisible ;
we are exalted in the very act. Our feeble, finite, created
nature is never clothed with such dignity, as when we are
showing reverence to our Sovereign. Why is it that the
very posture of worship, the posture of humility, elicits
respect from all beholders ? JSTo one can look upon the
devotions of even an ignorant papist before a crucifix at
the corner of the street, or of an ignorant Mohammedan
with his face towards Mecca, without a degree of consider-
ation. There is a fellow-creature who, in attitude at least,
is bending before the infinite majesty of. heaven ; and
though we know that his worship is blind and super-
CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 263
stitious, it would shock our sensibilities should he be in-
sulted, or interrupted in his prayer. There is dignity in
worship. " Those thoughts," says Lichtenberg, " elevate
the soul which throw the body upon the knee." The act
of adoration, in which the spirit of humility reaches its
height, is the sublimest one of which the creature is capa-
ble. And this, because it is that act in which he confesses
and feels himself to be a creature — a being who was origi-
nated from nothing by the fiat of the Creator, and who
possesses nothing that he has not received.
II. In the second place, humility is becoming to man
because he is a dependent being. He who is independent,
and does not owe his existence, or the continuance of it,
to any other than himself, is not called upon to be humble.
Humility would be unbefitting in the Great God. He must
of necessity possess the calm consciousness of independence,
and self -subsistence. And yet this is not pride. God can-
not be proud, any more than he can be humble. For pride
supposes a comparison with another being of the same
species, and a degree of rivalry with him. But with whom
can God compare himself ; and towards what other being
can he feel the least emotion of emulation ? He dwells in
the solitude of his own unapproachable excellence, and
therefore he can neither be lifted up with haughtiness, nor
bowed down in lowliness. But man is not such a being.
All his springs are in God. He is dependent for life,
health, and all temporal things. He is dependent, above
all, for spiritual life and health, and all the blessed things
of eternity. In the strong Scripture phraseology, he
" lives, moves, and has his being " in God. He is kept in
existence, and watched over by the minute, the microscopic
providence of God, with more kindness than the mother
guards her infant, and therefore the least that he can do,
is to look up .with an adoring eye and meekly acknowledge
264 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.
his dependence. Certainly, that creature ought to be very
lowly who is finite and helpless, and yet has an eternity
depending upon the life he leads here. Standing as man
does on the shore of an illimitable sea, upon which he is
to embark, with no power in himself to support and guide
over its dark expanse, he should be very humble and very
trusting. The sound of those " waters rolling evermore "
should send far into his heart a feeling of weakness, and
dependency. His whole life upon the raging billows of
time ought to be one continued act of lowly trust, one con-
tinued state of meek reliance.
But this does not exhaust the subject under this
head. Man is dependent not only upon his Creator,
but also upon his fellow-creature. He is part of a
great whole, and is therefore in a state of connection
and interdependency. No man can stand up alone,
and sustain himself without any assistance from his
fellow-men. Even he who practically denies his depen-
dence upon God, acknowledges either directly or indirectly
his dependence upon man. How many men are humble,
nay, are abject, before a fellow-worm, because they are in
some way dependent upon him, but are proud in the sight
of God, by whom both they and their fellow-creatures are
sustained. Thus does man, even in his sin, confess his own
weakness. In a life and world of sin, he clings to his frail
fellow-sinner for support. The thought of being cut off
from all connection with others alarms him. Were the
whole human family to be removed from the planet by
death, with the exception of a single individual, and this
single person were to be reprobated by God, and thus cut
off from all connection and intercourse with any being
human or divine, he would be a terror to himself. What
fear would settle like a cloud upon him, if having no trust
in the Almighty he found no fellow-creature to run to,
CHRISTIAN HUMILITY. 265
though only for a temporary solace and stay. Standing in
sucli absolute loneliness in the middle of the universe,
with neither God nor man to lean upon, methinks he would
desire annihilation. So firmly and profoundly implanted
in human nature is the instinctive longing for social inter-
course with a fellow-being, and the desire to rest upon
some other than self. And ought not this species of de-
pendence, also, though it be a minor one when compared
with the creature's dependence upon God, to minister to a
lowly heart ? Should not every man esteem others better
than himself, be thankful for the benefits which he is con-
stantly receiving either directly or indirectly from others,
and, in the end, looking up to the great First Cause, humbly
adore him as the Being who sits above all these minor
agencies, upholding and controlling as they work and inter-
weave among themselves far beneath him? Since men
are all walking together in this state of existence as it were
in a starless night, and their feet stumble among the dark
mountains, they should mutually recognize their obliga-
tions to each other, and there should be no boasting. The
sense of their dependence would render them meek and
lowly ; and this meekness and gentleness would naturally
beget that hve of their neighbor as themselves, which is
the sum of the second table of the law.
in. In the third place, man should be humble because
he is a sinful being. What has been remarked of man as
created and dependent will apply to all beings but God.
The first two reasons which we have assigned for humility
are valid for the angels and the archangels. They are
creatures, and they are dependent. And if we would find
the deepest humility in the universe, the most profound
lowliness of heart, we must seek it in the shining ranks of
heaven ; in the wing-veiled faces of the seraphim. But
there \^ another special reason why man should be humble
12
266 CHRiSTiAisr humility.
which has no application to the holy angel. Man is a
sinner. When Jehovah appeared " sitting upon a throne
high and lifted np," the seraph cried and said, " Holy,
holy, holy is the Lord of hosts ; the whole earth is full of
his glory." But the prophet Isaiah upon seeing the very
same vision said, " Woe is me ! for I am undone ; because
I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a
people of unclean lips ; for mine eyes have seen the King,
tlie Lord of hosts." The seraph was humble as a creature
merely. The man was humble as a sinner as well as a
creature.
The fact that we are transgressors before God should
abase us in the dust before him. The heart of a criminal
is no place for pride, and he ought to stand afar off, and
cry, " God be merciful." Considering the peculiar atti-
tude in which guilty man stands before God, self-abase-
ment ought to be the main feeling in his heart. For in
addition to the infinite difference there is originally be-
tween himself and his Maker, he has rendered himself yet
more different by apostasy.- The first was only a difference
in respect to essence ; but the last is a difference in respect
to character. How strange it is that he should forget this
difference, and entering into a comparison of himself with
his fellow-men should plume himself upon a supposed
superiority. The culprits are disputing which shall be
the greatest, at the very instant when their sentence of
condemnation is issuing from the lips of their Judge !
How poor a thing it is, to see a little creature over-
estimating himself for qualities, the possession of which
he owes to the very Being against whom he is in rebellion.
How vain and futile a thing it is, for a little atom to at-
tempt to isolate itself from everything else and float alone
ill immensity, endeavoring, contrary to great laws, to lead
a separate existence by itself and for itself, and, in this
CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.. 267
attitude of rebellion against the Creator and Kuler of all,
boasting with exultation and self-complacency. It is ab-
surd, on the very face of it.
"Proud man,
Drest in a little brief authoritj,
Plays such fantastic tricks before Mgh. heaven
As make angels weep."
There is still another consideration under this head
which strengthens the motive for humility. "We have seen
that the fact of sin furnishes an additional reason for self-
abasement, because it increases the distance between man
and God ; it has also made him still more dependent upon
God. There is no helplessness like that of a convicted
and imprisoned criminal. He cannot stir hand or foot.
He cannot say a word in his own defence, for he has been
tried, and proved guilty. He cannot employ force to de-
liver himself, for he is shut up behind solid walls and iron
grates. He is utterly dependent upon the sovereign power
which has sentenced and imprisoned him. Such is sinful
man in relation to the Divine government. He is the
most helpless of the helpless. Nothing but pure and mere
mercy can deliver him. But nothing interferes with the
exercise of mercy like pride in the criminal. A proud man
cannot be forgiven. It involves a self-contradiction. If
there be self-asserting haughtiness in the heart, God can
neither bestow grace nor man receive it. There can be
no forgiveness, unless there be confession of sin, and godly
sorrow. Mere remorse furnishes no opportunity for the
exercise of clemency. The devils are full of this feeling,
and yet are as antagonistic to the Divine mercy as fire is
to water. It is not the " sorrow of the world," the sorrow
of hell, but the " godly sorrow," which prepares the soul
to receive the sweet and blessed absolution of heavenly
268 CHEISTIAN HUMILITY.
pity. But this feeling is a humble one. Penitence is very
lowly. In fact, the difference between the two sorrows —
the sorrow of the world, and the godly sorrow — is due to
the presence or the absence of humility. The sense of
sin takes its character from the temper of the soul. When
it wakes up in a proud and hard heart, it wears and tears
it. It becomes remorse — that " sorrow of the world which
worketh death," the main element in eternal death, the
" worm " and the " fire." But when the sense of sin is
wakened in a humble and broken heart, there is no lacera-
tion. It becomes that " godly sorrow which worketh re-
pentance unto life." It produces that subdued, tender,
chastened tone of feeling which leads man in lowly faith
to the foot of the Cross.
*' Kemorse is as the heart in which, it grows :
If that be humble, it drops balmy dews
Of true repentance ; but if proud and gloomy,
It is a poison-tree that, pierced to the inmost,
Weeps only tears of poison." '
If, therefore, we would have the sense of sin produce
any salutary and blessed -results within us, we must obtain
a meek and lowly spirit — one that does not proudly fight
against the convictions of conscience, and thus rouse that
faculty to vengeance and despair, but which acknowledges
and confesses the justice of its charges, and humbly waits
for the mercy of God, who pours the oil of joy into such a
heart. If, then, you ever have your attention directed to
your transgressions, and the conviction of sin and the feel-
ing of ill-desert is roused, do not proudly try to smother
and quench it, for it will prove to be a fire shut up in your
bones that will ultimately burn to the lowest hell. On the
'Coleridge: Eemorse, Act I., Scene i.
CHEISTIAN HUMILITY. 269
contrary, be humble ; confess the sin with meekness, and
look to the blood of Christ for its pardon. Then you will
understand how it is that when you are humble then you
are exalted, and when you are weak then you are strong.
"When the sinner's stout and self-righteous heart yields,
and he meekly acknowledges his sin, by this very act he
takes hold of the justifying righteousness of the Redeemer,
and then he is exalted, and then he is safe.
rV. A fourth, and most powerful reason, why man should
be clothed with humility, is found in the vicarious suffer-
ing and atonement of Christ in his behalf. The apostle
Paul, directing Titus to enjoin upon his hearers " to
speak evil of no man, to be no brawlers, but gentle, showing
all meekness unto all men," assigns as a special reason the
fact, that the " kindness and love of God our Saviour has
appeared toward man, in the washing of regeneration
and renewing of the Holy Ghost through Jesus Christ
our Saviour." The Cross of Christ is the great motive to
a meek and lowly temper. He who has a vivid view of
those dark scenes in the innocent life of the Blessed Re-
deemer, and considers the purpose for which he was in an
agony and sweat great drops of blood, cannot cherish pride
in his heart, unless his heart is the heart of Judas. Feel-
ing himself to be a condemned sinner, and beholding the
Lamb of God " made a curse for him," and bearing his
sins in His owti body on the tree, all self-confidence and
self-righteousness will die out of his soul. Coming down
from Calvary, he cannot straightway forget what he has
seen, and return as did the malignant Jews to the pomp
and vanity of the earthly Jerusalem, and live a proud and
sensual life. On the contrary, he finds in the sufferings
and death of Christ a motive both for self-abasement, and
for hope — a motive for self-abasement, because in the
bright light around the Cross he sees his sins to be scarlet
270 CHRISTIAN HUMILITY.
and crimson ; a motive for hope, beeanse of the free and
full forgiveness that is offered. Nothing subdues a haughty
spirit like the passion and agony of the Saviour for the
sin of the world. There is a strangely softening power in
the blood of Christ. The fabled Medusa's head was said
to turn every one who looked upon it into stone ; but the
Cross and the Holy Sufferer upon it is a sight that converts
the beholder from stone into flesh.
Such, then, are the conclusive reasons and motives for
Christian humility. We are creatures ; we are dependent
creatures ; we are guilty creatures ; and we are creatures
for whom the Son of God has suffered and died. It is a
grace much insisted upon by our Lord, and very difficult
for our proud natures to acquire and cultivate. But it
must be acquired. Pride is the inmost substance of sin.
Adam desired to be " as gods, knowing good and evil."
Lucifer, the Son of the Morning, aspired to the throne
of the Eternal. Both the angel and the man fell by pride.
Humility is the opposite grace and virtue. It is the slow-
est and latest of any to take root again in our apostate
nature. Even when we have bowed down in true low-
liness of heart, the very first emotion, oftentimes, that
springs up after the act, is the emotion of pride. We are
proud because we have been humble! So subtle and
inveterate in our souls is that " old serpent," that prim-
itive sin whereby the angels fell, and whereby man trans-
gressed.
We must, therefore, cultivate this particular grace as we
would cultivate a choice exotic flower in an unkindly soil
and clime. We must toil to " be clothed with humility."
We must habitually feel our entire dependence upon God,
and also our secondary dependence upon man. We must
cherish a deeper sense of personal unworthiness. And
above all, we must behold the suffering Lamb of God, and
CHEISTIAlSr HUMILITY. 271
remember the deserved damnation from wliicli he has
saved us. " Put on, therefore, as the elect of God, holy
and beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness
of mind, meekness, long-suffering, forbearing one an-
other, and forgiving one another, if any man have a
quarrel against any ; even as Christ forgave you, so also
do ye."
SEEMON XYm.
PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE.
1 Corinthians viii. 2. — "If any man think that he knoweth any-
thing, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know. "
In reading this text, we must lay a strong emphasis
upon the word " think," if we would feel the force of it.
St. Paul would teach certain members of the Corinthian
Church, who were inclined to place a high estimate upon
a philosophical comprehension of religious truth, and who
therefore were liable to a spurious kind of knowledge,
that if any one of them conceitedly supposed or imagined
liimself to comprehend the gospel mysteries, he was in re-
ality utterly ignorant concerning them. This party in the
Church claimed to possess a more profound apprehension
of Christian truth than the rest of the brotherhood. They
were filled with an intellectual pride and ambition that
blinded them to the real and sanctifying meaning of the
Gospel. They thought they knew. The apostle tells them
that such knowledge as this puffs up, but that real Chris-
tian love builds up; and adds, that "if any man ihinh
that he knoweth anything, he knoweth nothing yet as he
ought to know." The doctrine of the text, therefore, is,
that pride vitiates religious knowledge. We proceed to
mention some particulars in respect to which this appears.
PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 273
I. In the first place, pride injures our religious knowl-
edge in respect to its quantity or extent. If this feeling be
in the heart, we shall not see so much, nor so far. The
apostle refers to that disposition which leads a man, when
he has made some addition to his stock of knowledge, to
stop and review it, and boast of it. He has in mind that
self-complacent spirit which is not content with the appre-
hension of truth, but which must sally forth and tell the
world how much it knows. These Corinthian disciples
were anxious to make an impression by their supposed su-
perior insight into Christian doctrine. They gloried in
their attainments, real or reputed ; and hence St. Paul
says to them : " If any man among you seemetli to be wise
in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise.
For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.
Therefore let no man glory in men." Let no man plume
himself upon his own personal acquisitions, or upon the
knowledge of that particular human teacher — that Paul,
or Apollos, or Cephas — whom he calls his master.
Such a self-complacent spirit as this tends to diminish
the quantity or extent of a man's knowledge, because it
prevents him from surveying and travelling over the whole
field. Having obtained a partial view, he stops to con-
gratulate himself upon his discovery, and to inform others
how much he has seen. His self-gratulation blinds his
eye to the vast spaces that still stretch away in every direc-
tion, and that still remain to be explored. He is like a
traveller among the Alps, who, having ascended the first
range of hills, and seeing the lower valleys, should imagine,
or " think," that he had exhausted Switzerland — had taken
up into his senses and soul that whole vast expanse of
mountains, valleys, lakes, streams, chasms, verdure, and
eternal snow, Mdiich constitutes the physical heart of Eu-
rope. That tarrying upon the heights already reached,
12*
274 PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE.
and that self -congratulation upon the scanty view that first
broke upon the eje, was fatal to a comprehensive vision.
This man who " thinks " that he knows Switzerland, knows
nothing yet as he ought to know.
This is especially true of the apprehension of divine
things. The instant a Christian begins to dwell upon his
knowledge of God, or of himself, with any degree of self-
complacency, he begins to stop his growth in knowledge.
Take, for illustration, the knowledge of his own heart — of
its corruption and its plague. So long as the Christian
perceives indwelling sin with a simple and enlightened
perception of its turpitude, and humbly mourns over it
and confesses it, so long he makes advance in this species
of knowledge. One shade or aspect of sin conducts him
to the next, and so on in indefinite progression, until he
becomes widely learned in the human heart, and pro-
foundly abased before God. But the instant he begins to
think of the extent to which he has gone in self-inspec-
tion, and to glory in his self-knowledge, that instant he
brings the whole process to a stand-still. He creates an
eddy in the flowing stream of his self- reflection, and wliirls
round and round, instead of moving onward and onward.
And unless the volume of water starts once more, and gets
out of this whirlpool ; unless the Christian ceases to think
of how much he knows, and to boast of it ; unless he re-
turns to that simple perception that is accompanied with
humility and sorrow; he will never know any more of his
own heart than he now knows. And even this degree of
knowledge will not stay by him. " To him that hath shall
be given, and he shall have more abundance ; but from
him that hath not, shall be taken even that he hath."
These slight measures of self-knowledge, over which he
has boasted, will themselves be absorbed in the pride of
the heart, and disappear entirely from the experience.
PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 275
"We might select other features in the Christian experi-
ence, and apply the same reasoning to them, with the
same result. He who contemplates the character of God,
with no side glances at himself in the way of pride at his
fancied wisdom ; he who simply beholds the glory of the
Holy One, and bows down before it in reverence and awe ;
is carried forward from one vision to another. But the
instant he begins to admire the results of his contempla-
tion and study in this direction, the charm is dissolved.
The face of God is veiled, and he sees it no longer. He,
again, who, having perceived the adaptation of the atone-
ment of the Lord Jesus Christ to the guilty conscience,
begins to be proud of his perception, destroys the per-
ception. If having seen the Lamb of God, he begins to
feel meretorious because he has seen Him, and to glory in
his spiritual discernment, his soul fills up with darkness,
instead of a clearer and purer light. The knowledge of
these divine things cannot be chased after, and boasted
over in this style. If you would see your shadow dis-
tinctly, stand still and look at it. The instant you begin
to run after it, or grasp at it, you set it to wavering ; you
destroy its sharp outlines, and its exact parts and propor-
tions. So, too, the instant you snatch at, and try to seize
hold of your religious experiences and perceptions, that
you may hold them up triumphantly before the eyes of
men, and flaunt them before the world to your own praise
— the instant you begin to review your knowledge for self-
gratulation, you damage and vitiate it. You injure it in
its quantity. You do not see so far, or so comprehen-
sively, as you would had you the meekness of wisdom.
II. In the second place, pride vitiates our religious
knowledge in respect to its quality, or depth. Knowledge
seems to have two properties that correspond with two of
the geometrical dimensions. It extends out in every di-
276 PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE.
rection like a plane surface ; and it runs downward, and
reaches upward, like a right line. How natural it is to
speak of a superficial knowledge — a knowledge that runs
to the superficies or surface of things. And it is equally
natural to speak of high thinking, and deep thinking — of
a species of reflection that penetrates above and below the
surface. In the first head of the discourse, we w^ere en-
gaged with knowledge as spreading out sidewise in all di-
rections, and we saw that it was circumscribed and limited
by the disposition to be conceited and boastful. Pride
vitiated it, by reducing its compass and extent. "We have
now to notice how the same sin renders it less profound ;
preventing it from reaching up into the heights, and sink-
ing down into the depths of divine truth.
The moment the mind begins to compute the distance
it has gone, it stops going. It cannot do two things
together at the same instant. If, therefore, under the in-
fluence of pride, it pauses to see how profound it has
become, to congratulate itself upon its profundity, and to
tell the world its success, it adopts a suicidal course. It
damages its knowledge in respect to quality. It ceases to
be as pure and deep as it was while the mind was wholly
absorbed in the contemplation of truth. Take an example,
for illustration. Suppose that a sinful man directs his
thoughts to liis own sinfulness. Suppose that he flxes his
attention upon some one sinful habit, say covetousness, to
which he is inclined, and begins to see plainly its odious-
ness in its own nature, and in the eye of God. The
longer this process continues, the more intent and absorb-
ing the application of his mind to this one subject, the
deeper is his view. He goes down lower and lower into
his own heart, and his knowledge becomes purer and more
profound in its quality. Now suppose that his attention
is diverted from his sin itself, to the consideration of the
PEIDE VITIATES EELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 277
fact that he has been exploring and probing his sin ; sup-
pose that he begins, as it were, to look over his own
shoulder, and see what he has been doing ; is it not evi-
dent that his sense of the iniquity of his sin will begin to
grow more shallow, and that he will come up to the sur-
face of his heart again, instead of penetrating its recesses ?
The sin of covetousness will not appear so odious to hiin,
because he begins to " think " that he understands all about
it ; and in the end the assertion of the apostle is verified
in his case : " If any man think that he knoweth anything,
he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to know."
III. In the third place, pride vitiates our religious
knowledge, in respect to its practicality. This is perhaps
the greatest injury that is done to our apprehension of
divine things, by our self-conceit and egotism. It is a
great evil to have our knowledge diminished in its quan-
tity and quality, in its extent and depth, but it is an even
greater evil, to have its practical character and influence
injured. The only purpose for which we ought to wish to un-
derstand religious truth is, that we may be made better by
it. We ought not to desire to know God, except that we
may become like him. We ought not to make any scrutiny
into our own sin, except for the purpose of getting rid of
sin. There is no species of truth or knowledge that is so
purely practical, as religious truth and knowledge. The
very instant, therefore, it loses this practicality, by any
fault or wrong method of our own, it loses its most impor-
tant element for us. It degenerates into mere speculation,
and hardens the heart, instead of melting it into sorrow
and love.
The first duty incumbent upon a man when he has ob-
tained some new view of divine truth is, to ajpjplij it. But
there is nothing that so interferes with such a personal ap-
plication as pride, or self-gratulation. He who seeks to
278 PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE.
understand the doctrines of Scripture only that he may
admire himself, or be admired by others because of his
knowledge of Scripture, will never bring them home to
himself ; will never employ them for purposes of self-
improvement. A French rhetorician relates the following
anecdote, to show how impenetrable the vainglorious mind
is to the sharp arrows of truth, and how exceedingly diffi-
cult it is to induce such a mind to allow any practical turn
or application of a moral idea. " One day," he says, " the
Ahh6 de St. Cyran happened to touch, in the presence of
Balzac, upon certain religious truths which he developed
with great force. Balzac, intent upon gaining from this
some beautiful thought to enshrine at some future time in
a page of his own, could not help exclaiming, ' That is ad-
mirable;' contenting himself with admiring, without apply-
ing anything to himself. ' Balzac,' said the Abbe, ' is
like a man who, standing before a superb mirror which
shows him a stain on his face, should content himself with
admiring the beauty of the mirror, without removing the
stain.' Balzac was delighted more than ever with this,
and still forgetting the practical lesson altogether, in his
attention to the pertinence of the illustration, cried in a
yet louder tone, ' Ah, this is more admirable than all the
rest.' " '
" Seest thou a man wise in his own conceit," says Solo-
mon, "there is more hope of a fool than of him." When
a man is destitute of knowledge, and feels himself to be
so, he can be approached by a teacher, and instruction can
be imparted. But when it is the thought of his heart
that he comprehends the whole subject, and that no one
can teach him, the prospect of his becoming enlightened is
liopeless. Precisely so is it in regard to the practical ap-
' Bungener : Preacher and King, 38, 39.
PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 279
plication of divine truth. He who listens to the teach-
ing of the sanctuary, with the notion or imagination that
he has completed the work of applying it to himself^ and
therefore hears merely for others, or for merely intellect-
ual improvement, is in a most unfavorable position to re-
ceive salutary impressions. This is the hazard that accom-
panies a steady attendance upon public worship, without
faith, repentance, and a Christian profession. The mind
of such a person becomes filled with the doctrines of the
gospel, and they command his unhesitating assent. They
are so true for his intellect, that he never thinks of disput-
ing them. And, at the same time, he never thinks of ap-
plying them to himself practically. There is a species of
mental pride, a pride of knowledge, perhaps a pride of
orthodoxy, that hinders him from listening with a tender
conscience, and a meek and lowly heart. Perhaps it would
be better, if such a hearer might, for a time, be brought into
skeptical conflict with the truth. Perhaps there might be
more hope of his conversion, if, instead of this cold and un-
disturbed assent to the Christian sj'stem which is accom-
panied with so much self-complacency, and so little self-
application, there might rush in upon him some of those
obstinate questionings that would destroy his ease of mind,
and bring him into serious collision with the law and truth
of God. He might then, perhaps, realize that the Word
of God is the most practical, because it is the most truth-
ful and searching, of all books ; that there is not a teach-
ing in it that does not have a bearing upon the most mo-
mentous interests of the human soul ; and that the question
which every man should put to himself, whenever he reads
it, and whenever he listens to it, is the question : " What
is it to r^ie ? What shall / do in reference to it ? "
Thus have we seen, that " If any man think that he
knoweth anything, he knoweth nothing yet as he ought to
280 PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE.
know " — that pride vitiates our knowledge of religious
truth, in respect to its quantity, its quality, and its practi-
cality.
That is a very instructive chapter in the Old Testament
history which records the punishment that came upon
David, because he numbered the people. We are not in-
formed, by the sacred historian, what was the particular
wickedness of which the king of Israel was guilty, in this
instance. It was not the mere taking of a census. Moses
had twice numbered the people, without any rebuke from
God ; and upon the face of the transaction, there does not
seem to lie any harm. It was well, that the ruler of a
kingdom should know the number of his army ; it was well,
that the shepherd of Israel should count up his flock.
The most probable explanation is, that the monarch took
this census of his kingdom from pride, as Ilezekiah showed
the treasures of his palace to the ambassadors of the king
of Babylon. Therefore God punished him. It is the
same spirit that numbers up spiritual attainments, and the
same disapprobation of God attends it. What is the moral
difference between showing the heathen king the silver,
and the gold, and the spices, and the precious ointment, in
order to make an impression upon him for purposes of
self-aggrandizement, and showing to one's own self, or to
others, the mental treasures, for purposes of pride and
vanity ? What is the difference in the motive, between
David's boastful counting up of his men of war, and the
Christian's boastful counting np of his knowledge, his
graces, and his good deeds?
1. In deducing, therefore, the lessons which this subject
suggests, we remark, in the first place, that spiritual pride
is the most suhtle of sins. " Now the serpent was more
subtle than any beast of the field which the Lord God had
made." The species of sin which is rebuked in the text,
PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 281
and which we have been considering, does not approacli
the Christian from the outside. It does not issue from
flesh and sense, but from the intellect itself. It is the sin
of Lucifer, the Son of the Morning. That archangel was
not tempted to revolt against the authority and govern-
ment of the Most High, by the low and flesh-born solicita-
tions which are continually assailing the sons of men. His
substance was incorporeal, and his nature ethereal. The
five senses, which are the avenues through which many
enticements to sin approach the children of Adam, formed
no part of his constitution. He fell from a purely intel-
lectual temptation, and his wickedness was what the apos-
tle denominates '■'•spiritual wickedness." The sin of pride,
to which the believer is liable, is a sin of the same species
whereby the angels fell. In wrestling against it, we
" wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against princi-
palities, £\gainst poM'ers, against the rulers of the darkness
of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places."
(Eph. vi. 12.) There is every reason to believe, that when
the child of God becomes sinfully self-conscious, and ego-
tistic ; when he ceases to be an actor, and converts himself
into a spectator ; when he reviews his conduct with self-
complacency, and is puffed up with knowledge, instead of
built up with charity ; when he thinks more highly of
himself than he ought to think ; he is particularly the
victim of the wiles of Satan, that Old Serpent, that subt-
lest of the creatures of God. When other artifices fail ;
when the believer proves to be on his guard against the
more common and outward temptations of earth; then
the Arch Deceiver plies him with one that is purely men-
tal, and spiritual. He fills him with the conceit of holi-
ness, and the conceit of knowledge. This puffs him up,
and leads him to commit that great sin which is condemned
in the declaration of God, through the prophet Isaiah : " I
282 PRIDE VITIATES RELIGIOIJS KNOWLEDGE.
am Jehovah, that is mj name, and my glorj I will not
give to another." Under the impulse of this temptation,
the creature defrauds the Creator of the glory which is
his due, and comes short of the chief end of his own crea-
tion. Spiritual pride is thus the last resort of the Tempter,
and whoever is enabled by divine grace to foil him at this
point, will foil him at all points. " That which first over-
comes man," says St. Augustine, " is the last thing man
overcomes." The pride by which the angels fell, and
which was the principal quality in the Adamic transgres-
sion, lingers longest and latest in the experience of the
Christian. "Some sins," remarks an old divine, "may
die before us, but this hath life in it as long as we. It is,
as it were, the heart of all other sins ; the first to live, and
the last to die. And it hath this advantage, that whereas
other sins are fomented by one another, this feeds even on
virtues and graces, as a moth that breeds in them, and
consumes them, even in the finest of them, if it be not
carefully looked into. This hydra, as one head of it is
cut off, another rises up ; it will secretly cleave to the best
actions, and prey upon them. And therefore is there so
much need that we continually watch, and fight, and pray
against it ; and be restless in the pursuit of real and deep
humiliation — to be nothing, and desire to be nothing ; not
only to bear, but to love our own abasement, and the
things that procure and help it." '
' Leighton : On 1 Pet. v. 5. The same testimony respecting the na-
ture of spiritual pride is borne by Ricliard Baxter. " For my part, when
I consider the great measure of pride, self-conceitedness, self-esteem,
that is in the greater part of Christians that ever I was acquainted with
— we of the ministry not excepted — I wonder that God doth not afflict
ns more, and bring us down by foul means, that will not be brought
down by fair. For my own part, I have bad as great means to help me
PKIDE VITIATES RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 283
2. And this carries us to the second lesson suggested by
the subject, which is, that spiritual pride especially requires
the aid and influence of the Holy Ghost to overcome it.
No spirit is a match for the subtlety of Satan but the
Eternal Spirit. When the mystery of iniquity worketh ;
when " that Wicked is revealed whose coming is after the
working of Satan, with all power, and signs, and lying
wonders, and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness;"
St. Paul tells us that " the Lord shall consume him with
the Spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy him with the
brightness of his coming," (2 Thess. ii. 7-10.) The be-
liever will fall a victim to these arts of the Deceiver, un-
less he is both enlightened and empowered. His very
virtues and graces themselves are, oftentimes, the egg out
of which spiritual pride is hatched. With Cowper he can
say:
" When I would speak what thou hast done
To save me from my sin,
I can not make thy mercies known,
But self-applause creeps in."
against this sin as most men living ever had ; first, in many years'
trouble of mind, and then in near twenty years' languishing and bodily
pains, having been almost twenty years at the grave's mouth, and living
near it continually ; and lastly and above all, I have had as full a sight
of it in others, even in the generality of the professors, and in the dole-
ful state of the Church and State, and heinous, detestable abominations
of this age, which one would think should have fully cured it. And
yet, if I hear but either an applauding word from any of fame on one
side, or a disparaging word on the other side, I am fain to watch my
heart as narrowly as I would do the thatch of my house when fire is put
to it, and presently to throw on it the water of detestation, resolution,
and recourse to God. And though the acts through God's great mercy
be thus restrained, yet the constancy of these inclinations assures me
that there is still a strong and deep root. " Baxter : The Right Method
for Spiritual Peace and Comfort.
284 PEIDE VITIATES RELIGIOITS KNOWLEDGE.
The believer, therefore, needs to have that singleness of
eye which is never dazzled with any of the flatteries of
either his own heart, or of Satan himself. He needs to
have his whole body full of that heavenly light which will
chase out every lingering remnant of darkness, and of
egotism. And who but the unerring Spirit of God is the
author of such a spiritual illumination as this ? The dis-
courses of our Lord are full of solemn injunctions to be
single-eyed, single-minded, and not to let the left hand
know what the right hand doeth. Simplicity and godly
sincerity, he continually emphasizes ; and these are the ex-
act contraries of self-deception and pride. But who can
attain to this, as a steady and spontaneous habit and frame
of soul, without the teaching of the Holy Ghost ? And
by that teaching it can be attained. There is a power in
God, the Creator of the human soul, and the Searcher of
the human heart, to produce within it a guileless simplicity
— that beautiful trait which Christ saw and praised in
Nathanael, when he said : " Behold an Israelite indeed, in
whom there is no guile." It is that holiness which is so
simple, childlike, and ingenuous, that it is unconscious of
itself. It is that divine knowledge which is so pure, and
deep, that it never reviews itself, and never inflates in the
least. It is that mental absorption in God and divine
things, of which the Old Mystics say so much, whereby the
will of the creature and the intellect of the creature are so
completely subject to those of the Creator, that the differ-
ence between them cannot be distinguished in the religious
experience. It is that union with Christ which is so inti-
mate and central, that the instant the believer says with
St. Paul, " I live," he is obliged with him to add imme-
diately, "yet not I, but Christ liveth in me." Such a
union as this, resulting in the extinction of self-assertion
PEIDE VITIATES EELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE. 285
and vainglory, is the product of the Holy Spirit work-
ing in us to will, to feel, to think, and to act. It results
from walking in the Spirit, and praying in the Spirit 5
yea, praying that prayer of which the apostle remarks:
" The Spirit helpeth our infirmities ; for we know not
what to pray for as we ought ; but the Spirit itself mak-
eth intercession for us, with groanings which cannot be
uttered."
SERMON XIX.
CONNECTION BETWEEN FAITH AND WORKS.
James ii. 24. — "Ye see then how that by works a man is justified,
and not by faith only."
This affirmation of the inspired apostle James seems to
flatly contradict that famous assertion of the inspired apos-
tle Paul which is so often quoted, as containing the pith
and substance of the evangelical system. St. Paul, in his
Epistle to the Romans, after proving that all mankind are
guilty before the law, and consequently cannot be acquit-
ted by it, draws the inference : " Therefore, we conclude
that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the
law." (Rom. iii. 28.) This doctrine has come down from
age to age, as the cardinal truth of Christianity. The
Church has been pure or corrupt, according as it has
adopted or rejected it. Protestant as distinguished from
Papal Christianity rests upon it as its proof text. Men
are evangelical or legal, according as they receive or reject
it. And yet St. James, in the text, affirms distinctly and
positively, that " by works a man is justified, and not by
faith only."
There is certainly a verbal contradiction between these
two apostles. Should these two isolated passages of Script-
ure be read to an inhabitant of Saturn ; should they be
FAITH AND WOEKS. 287
taken out of their connections, and be made known to any-
one who was utterly unacquainted with the Scriptures as
a whole ; should they be found, like some old Greek or
Sanskrit inscription, cut into a marble tablet, with nothing
going before them to explain, or following after to illus-
trate, their meaning, thej must undoubtedly be set down
as conflicting with each other. The words in the one
statement contradict the words in the other.
But a verbal contradiction is not necessarily a real con-
tradiction. Inconsistency in words is compatible with
consistency in ideas. In order to charge a contradiction
in the thought, or doctrine, we must evince something
more than a contradiction in the language. The letter
sometimes kills the sense, but the spirit makes it alive. It
is the ulterior meaning, which must be gathered from the
intention of the writer as seen in other parts of his dis-
course, and especially from the immediate context, that
must interpret the phraseology. Human language is an
imperfect instrument to express so subtle a thing as
thought. Hence we shall find that, oftentimes, it labors
under the idea or truth which is sought to be conveyed by
it, and this laboring appears in a verbal contradiction.
Some of the very highest truths, owing to the poverty of
human language, can be expressed only in phraseology
that involves an utter inconsistency if taken according to
the mere letter. Consider, for example, the schoolman's
definition of the Divine omnipresence. " God," he said,
" is a circle whose circumference is everywhere, and its
centre nowhere." This diction is utterly self-contradictory.
Read it to a mere mathematician, who should have no
inkling of the great truth that was sought to be conveyed
by it ; who should look at it as a purely verbal and mathe-
matical statement; and he would tell you that there is and
can be no circle whose centre is nowhere, and its circum-
288 CONNECTION BETWEEN
ference everywhere, and that the terms of such a proposi-
tion are absurd. And yet it is one of the best definitions
that have been given of the omnipresence of God. It im-
presses the inscrutable immensity of the Deity, the mys-
terious boundlessness of his being, upon the mind, in a
very vivid and striking manner. And it is the impression
made, which is the truth and fact in the case. Take,
again, the famous statement, that " the soul is all in every
part of the body." The purpose of this verbal contradic-
tion is, to show that the immaterial spirit of man cannot
be localized in a section of space. The soul of a man is
not seated in the hand, or in the foot ; in the heart, or
in the head. It is not contained and confined in any one
part of the human body, for it causes the movements of
every part. It thinks through the brain ; it feels through
the nerves ; and it lifts weights through the hand. It ex-
ists, therefore, in one part as much as in another ; and
therefore no one organ can be asserted to be its sole local-
ity, and residence. And yet, on the other hand, it would
not be correct to say that the soul is diffused through the
whole body, and has exactly the same form and figure as
the body. The soul has no extended form, or figure ; as it
would have if it were spread out through the whole ma-
terial structure. It is not correct to say that a part of the
soul is in the head, and another part is in the foot, and
another part is in the hand. The soul cannot be subdi-
vided and distributed in this manner. The whole soul is
in the hand, when the hand is lifted up ; and in the foot,
when the foot is set down. The whole soul, the entire
conscious ego, is in each nerve, and at every point of it,
when it thrills ; and in each muscle, and at every point of
it, when it contracts. And to express these truths and
facts, so mysterious and yet so real and true, the philos-
opher invented the verbal contradiction, that " the soul is
FAITH AND WOEKS. 289
all in every part of the body." And the same use of lan-
guage meets us in everyday life, as well as in the specula-
tions of the philosopher. When, for instance, you are
mourning the loss of a beloved friend, and you wish to
convey the truth, that his death was gain to him but loss
to you, you say, in concise and pointed, yet verbally con-
tradictory phrase : " It is the survivor that dies." When,
again, you desire to express the truth, that indiscriminate
praise is worthless ; that a critic who pronounces every-
thing presented for his judgment to be good and excellent,
deserves no regard ; you do it in the sententious, but ver-
bally contradictory proverb : " He who praises everybody,
praises nobody." Again, would you express the truth
which Solomon conveys in his question : " Hast thou found
honey ? eat so much as is sufficient for thee, lest thou be
filled therewith, and vomit it," you do it in the homely
verbal contradiction : " Too much of a good thing, is good
for nothing." These examples might be multiplied indefi-
nitely. The proverbs of a nation — which are the con-
densed and pointed sense of the people, the truest of
truths — are very often couched in phraseology that, if
taken in a literal signification, is absurd.
Before we conclude, therefore, that two writers are in
conflict with each other, we must first determine their gen-
eral aim and purpose, and interpret particular individual
statements accordingly. Two questions always arise, in this
comparison of one author with another. First, are they
looking at the same thing ; and, secondly, if so, do they
occupy the same point of view. The perspective point is
everything, in judging of the correctness of a picture.
And this is specially true of religious objects, and truths.
The spiritual world is so comprehensive and vast, that no
observer can see the whole of it at once, and from a single
point of vision. He must pass from point to point, and
13
290 CONNECTION BETWEEN
obtain view after view. He must walk about Zion, before
he can tell the towers thereof. It is because of the in-
finitude of divine truth, that there are so many apparent
contradictions — so many " paradoxes," as Lord Bacon de-
nominates them — in the Christian system. It is for this
reason, that there are more verbal contradictions in the Bible
than in any other book. In one place we read : " Answer
a fool according to his folly"; and at another : "Answer
not a fool according to his folly." Upon one page we are
told that, " Whosoever is born of God doth not commit
sin " ; upon another that, " If we say we have no sin,
we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." These
propositions are verbally contradictory, and yet when read
in their connections, and explained in the light of the gen-
eral drift of Scripture, they convey the highest truth in
the most striking and impressive manner. The several
authors of the inspired volume look at the great system of
religious truth from many points of view, and each sees
and depicts a different side of it. And he is the wise man
who, instead of employing the microscopic vision of a fly
crawling over a cornice, or some small ornament of the
great temple of truth, is able to survey with the eye of an
architect all their individual representations, and to com-
bine them into one grand and all-comprehending scheme.
These remarks prepare us to consider the verbal con-
tradiction between the apostles Paul and James, and to
determine whether it is a real and irreconcilable one. The
two waiters are contemplating the same thing — the sinner's
justification before God. Paul asserts that "a man is
justified by faith, without the works of the law" — that is,
by faith only. James affirms that " by works a man is
justified, and not by faith only." Both are speaking of the
sinner's justification ; but not to the same class of j>ersons,
and, therefore, not from the same point of view. One is
FAITH AND WORKS. 291
arguing against sincere legalists, and the other against
hypocritical believers. This explains, and harmonizes, the
difference between them.
I. St. Paul is addressing legalists — a class of errorists
who maintained that man's works of morality are the
ground of his justification ; are a satisfaction of the law
for past transgressions, and entitle him to the rewards of
the future life. The religionist of this class makes the
same use of his own virtues, acts, and merits, that the
evangelical believer makes of the blood and righteous-
ness of Christ. He rests in them for justification and ac-
ceptance before God. Now to this class of persons, the
apostle Paul says: "By the works of the law, shall no
flesh be justified ; by the deeds of the law, there shall
no flesh be justified ; a man is justified by faith, without
the deeds of the law." (Gal. ii. 16 ; Kom. iii. 20, 28.) It
was with reference to their particular opinion, that a man's
own works could atone for sin and merit heaven, that the
apostle asserts that man's works are worthless and useless.
Standing upon this position, and addressing moralists and
legalists, he could say without any qualification, that a
sinner is justified by mere and simple faith in Christ's vi-
carious sacrifice, without the addition to it, or combination
with it, of any of his own works, good or bad. The ex-
piatory work of Christ is in and of itself a complete satis-
faction, and there is no need of completing the complete.
There is no need of gilding refined gold, or painting the
lily. There is no need, even if it could be done, of sup-
plementing or perfecting the Divine provision for the
forgiveness of sin, by a human agency. The oblation of
Christ is suflScient, alone, and by itself, to satisfy the
broken law ; and he who trusts in it as the sole ground and
reason of pardon, need not bring with him a single jot or
tittle of his own work. And when any sinner begins to
292 CONNECTION BETWEEN
look around for something wherewith to appear before the
awful Eternal Justice, and answer its demands, he discov-
ers the worthlessness of even the best of human works.
There is nothing expiatory in human virtue. There is no
judicial suffering in it. Good works do not bleed ; and
" without the shedding of blood there is no remission."
To attempt, therefore, to expiate sin by performing good
works, is not an adaptation of means to ends. It is like
attempting to quench thirst, by eating bread. Bread is
necessary to human life considered as a whole, but it can-
not slake thirst. So too, good works are necessary to hu-
man salvation taken as a whole, but they cannot accom-
plish that particular part of human salvation which consists
in satisfying the law for past transgressions. Without
personal holiness no man shall see the Lord, and yet no
amount of personal holiness can wash out the stain of
guilt. All this, which tallies exactly with St. Paul's dec-
laration, is understood by the sinner, the instant he sees
guilt and atonement in their mutual relations. While he
perceives very clearly, that in reference to other points,
and other purposes, Christian character is indispensable,
and good works must be performed, yet having respect to
the one single, momentous particular of deliverance from
the penalty of the law, he very clearly perceives that good
works are good for nothing. They cannot enter into the
account, for purposes of justification, even in part. The
atonement for sin is not partly the death of Christ, and
partly the merits of the sinner. It is the death of Christ
alone, without any works of the law. "I feel" — says
Chalmers — "that the righteousness of Christ unmixed
with baser materials, untempered with strange mortar, un-
vitiated by human pretensions of any sort, is the solid
resting-place on which a man is to lay his acceptance be-
fore God, and that there is no other ; that to attempt a com-
FAITH AND WOKKS. 293
position between grace and works is to spoil both, and is
to deal a blow both to the character of God, and to the cause
of practical holiness." ' Such is the doctrine of the apostle
Paul respecting justiiication, as enunciated from his point
of view, and having reference to the moralist and legalist.
II. We are now, in the second place, to examine the doc-
trine of the apostle James, upon the same subject, as
stated from his point of view, and with reference to a
wholly different class of persons. For, the errorists whom
St. James was combating were hypocritical helievers, and
not sincere legalists. They did not deny the doctrine of
justification by faith. They did not, like the moralist
whom St. Paul opposed, affirm that man could be justified
by the works of the law, either wholly or in part. On the
contrary, they were orthodox in theory, evangelical in
phraseology, and profuse in their declarations that works
were useless, and that nothing but faith could save the
soul. This is evident from the course of the apostle's
reasoning with them. " What doth it profit, my brethren,
though a man say [pretend] he hath faith, and have not
works ? Can [such] faith save him ? If a brother or sister
be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of you say
unto them. Depart in peace, be you warmed and filled :
notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are
needful to the body : What doth it profit ? Even so faith,
if it hath not works is dead, being alone." This reasoning
implies, that the opponents of the apostle James were not
in the least tinctured with the Judaistic theory of justifica-
tion by works, but were using the evangelical doctrine of
justification by faith in such a way as to abuse it. They
were not zealous sticklers for the law, but hypocritical and
false professors of the gospel.
' Chalmers' Memoirs, II. 190.
294 , CONNECTION BETWEEN
Accordingly, St. James combats, not St. Paul's time
faith, but the spurious faith of these errorists. He attacks
what he denominates " dead faith." Probably there is an
allusion here to St. Paul's use of the word, when he speaks
of " dead works," and of being " dead to the law." James
tells these hypocrites, who are boasting of their faith, and
making it the cloak of licentiousness, that as there is a
dead work, spoken of by St. Paul, so there is a dead faith,
such as they are professing ; and neither the dead work
nor the dead faith can save the soul. The class of errorists
whom he opposes "5a^<^" they had faith. They pretended
to trust in the person and work of the Son of God ; but
they had never been truly convicted of sin, had never felt
godly sorrow, and had never exercised an evangelical
peace-giving confidence in atoning blood. They were hyp-
ocrites. Their faith, in James's phraseology, was " alone."
It had no connection with works. It was not an active and
operative principle in the heart, but the mere breath on
their lips. It was a counterfeit, and not the genuine thing
of which St. Paul speaks. !Now, in disparaging such a
hypocritical non-working faith as this, and affirming that
it could not justify a sinner, St. James is not disparaging
sincere and true faith, and falls into no real contradiction
with St. Paul. Standing upon the position of James, and
called to address the same class of persons, Paul would
have spoken in the same manner. He would have plainly
told hypocritical men who were professing an inoperative
and spurious faith, and making it an opiate for their con-
science, and a cloak for licentiousness ; who were saying to
the naked and destitute Christian brother, "Depart in
peace, be thou warmed and filled," but were doing nothing
for his relief — he would have plainly and solemnly told
them that such faith could not save them. He would have
asked the same question with James : " What doth it
FAITH AND WOEKS. 295
profit, though a man say he hath faith, and have not
works ; can faith [that has not works] save him ? " Tliere
would have been no danger of legalism, or of misconception ;
for they would have understood that by " faith," he meant
their faith — their non-working and hypocritical profession.'
And standing upon the position of Paul, and called to ad-
dress an altogether different class of errorists, who expected
to atone for sin by their own works and merit, the apostle
James, with his Old Testament conceptions of law and ex-
piation, and his stern uncompromising view of sin as guilt,
would have spoken of a living and true faith in the sacri-
fice of the Lamb of God — " our Lord Jesus Christ, the
Lord of glory," as he affectionately and reverently calls
him — as the only act whereby a sinner can be delivered
from his guilt, and the curse of the violated law.
There are two proofs of this latter assertion, to which
we direct attention for a moment. In the first place, the
apostles James and Paul both alike accepted that state-
ment of the essential principles of the gospel which was
formulated in the Apostolic convention. In the fifteenth
chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, there is an account of
an assembly of the apostles and elders, to discuss the ques-
tion in dispute between the converted Jews and the con-
verted Gentiles, whether obedience to the Mosaic law was
necessary in order to salvation, or whether a simple faith
in the person and work of Christ was sufficient. The de-
cision was unanimous, that faith in Christ was the only
essential requisite. This decision was sent out in a letter
to all the churches, and has gone down from century to
century, as an inspired declaration of the real nature of
' In the original (James ii. 14), the hypocrisy of the faith is indicated
by the presence of the article in one instance, and its absence in the
other. The hypocrite says that he has faith— ir/o-Tii/ anarthrous ; the
apostle asks if r\ tt/o-tij — this kind of faith — can save him.
296 CONNECTION BETWEEN
Christianity. James advocated, in the convention, the
same views with Peter and the other apostles, and lent
the weight of his authority and influence, in favor of
the doctrine of justification by faith without the works
of the law.
In the second place, there is proof in this very Epistle,
which St. James addresses to " the twelve Jewish tribes
which are scattered abroad," that he considered faith, and
not works, to be the cardinal truth of Christianity. In
the course of the discussion, the supposition is made, that
faith and works can be separated, and exist the one with-
out the other : " Yea, a man may say. Thou hast faith,
and I have works." (James ii. 18.) The apostle, in his
answer to this, so shapes his statement, as not only to deny
the possibility of any such divorce between the two, but
also to show that he considered faith to be the root
and principle, and works only the fruit and evidence,
of justification. For although he is laying a very strong
emphasis upon works, yet he does not say, in reply
to this supposition that faith and works can be sepa-
rated : " Shew me thy faith without any works, and I will
shew thee my works without any faith." But his answer
is one that Paul himself would have given in a similar
case : " Shew me thy faith without thy works " — a thing
that is impossible — " and I will show thee my faith hy my
works." The implication of this answer is, not only that
true and living faith cannot exist without showing itself in
good works, but that good works are secondary to faith, as
being its effect and evidence. Works are not the root, but
the branches. And in dealing with a legalist, we can
easily imagine St. James to accommodate the language of
St. Paul, used in another connection : " Boast not of the
branches. But if thou boast, remember that the branches
bear not the root, but the root bears the branches. Boast
FAITH AND WORKS. 297
not of your works ; but if jou boast, remember that works
do not produce faith, but faith produces works."
The doctrine of St. James, then, to say it in a word, is,
that a man is justified by a working faith. In some pas-
sages of his Epistle, " works " signifies " true faith." The
text is one of them ; and it might be read : " Ye see, then,
how that by a working faith a man is justified, and not by
a faith that has not works." In order to present, strongly
and impressively, the truth at which he was aiming, he
resorts to a well-known rhetorical figure, and puts the
effect for the cause — the works of faith, for faith itself.
" Works " stand for " working faith," when he asserts
that "Abraham was justified by works, when he had of-
fered up Isaac his son ;" and that " Kahab was justified
by works, when she sent the messengers out another way."
In these instances, the term " works " denotes the genuine
faith that works, in contradistinction to the spurious faith
that does not work. Dead faith has no energy, and no
work in it. Living faith is full of energy, and full of
work ; and therefore, by the metonymy of effect for cause,
may be denominated " work " — as Christ so calls it, when
he says : " This is the work of God, that ye believe on
him whom he hath sent." (John vi. 29.) This also ex-
plains the meaning of St. James, when he says, that
" Abraham's faith wrought with his works, and by works
was faith made perfect." Abraham's act of obedience to
the Divine command to sacrifice his son, was a work that
proved beyond all doubt that his faith was sincere and
" perfect," and not spurious and hypocritical. This " work,"
therefore, might well stand for, and represent, the mighty
" faith " that produced it. In saying that Abraham and
Eahab were " justified by works," St. James is conceiving
of, and describing faith as an active and working jprincijyle^
like that which St. Paul has in mind, when he speaks of
13*
298 CONNECTION BETWEEN
" faith which worketh bj love " (Gal. v. 6) ; when he
thanks the Thessalonians for their " work of faith " (1
Thess. 1. 3) ; and when he urges Titus to preach in such a
manner, that " they which have believed in God might be
careful to maintain good works " (Titus iii. 8). The con-
tradiction between the two apostles is, therefore, verbal
only, and not real. Both hold the same evangelical doc-
trine.'
This exhibition of the agreement between Paul and
James leads us to notice, in closing, the importance of
guarding the doctrine of gratuitous justification against
abuse, by showing the natural and necessary connection
between it and sanctification. St. James, in his day, found
a class of persons in the church who made Christ a min-
ister of sin, and who " sinned," knowingly and wantonly,
" that grace might abound." Because the blood of Christ
cleanseth from all sin, they inferred that they might indulge
in sin. If they stained themselves, it was easy to wash
the stain out. Because good works could not avail, either
wholly or in part, to atone for transgression, therefore they
need not perform them for any purpose whatever. The
righteousness of Christ was suflficient for their justification,
and therefore they need not follow after holiness, or seek in-
ward sanctification. In this way, they abused the grace of
God, and converted that truth which is a savor of life unto
life, into a savor of death unto death. It is often remarked,
* The Westminster Confession, XI. ii., admirably sums up the whole
truth, in the following proposition : " Faith is the alone instrument of
justification ; yet it is not alone in the person justified, but is ever ac-
companied with other saving graces." The first half of this proposition
contains St. Paul's statement, that " a man is justified by faith without
the deeds of the law ; " and the second half of it contains St. James's
statement, that "faith, if it hath not works is dead, being alone." To
say that a man is justified by " faith alone," is not the same as to say
that he is justified by *' faith that is alone."
FAITH AND WOEKS. 299
that the greatest of blessings when perverted becomes the
greatest of evils. And so it is with the doctrine of gratui-
tous justification. If any man makes use of it as an
opiate to his conscience, and a means of indulging himself
in sin, or ease in Zion, he becomes fearfully selfish, and
fearfully hardened. He treads the atoning blood under
foot. There is evidence in the Epistle of James, that those
who were thus maltreating the gospel, and abusing the
doctrine of free grace in Christ, were very far gone in
earthliness and sin. The kind of sins which the apostle
rebukes, and the style in which lie does it, evince this.
He severely reproves them for their regard for human dis-
tinctions, in exalting the man with a gold ring and goodly
apparel, and humbling the poor man in vile raiment ; for
their reckless use of the tongue, in slandering and boast-
ing ; for their grasping after office and authority, in en-
deavoring to be " many masters ; " for their quarrelling,
envying, and even " fightings " — moving the apostle to
address them sternly : " Ye adulterers and adulteresses,
know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity
with God ? " for their inordinate avarice, which led them
to " keep back the hire of the laborer by fraud, and to
heap up treasure for the last days ; " for their sensuality,
in " living in pleasure and wantonness on the earth, and
nourishing their hearts as in day of slaughter." (James ii.
1-9 ; iii. 1-v. 6.) These sins, thus specified and rebuked,
seem to have crept into the Jewish-Christian churches to
whom St. James addressed his Epistle ; for there is no
reason to suppose that he would have thus particularized
them, had they not been in existence. And they are ag-
gravated transgressions. It was no ordinary corruption
that had come into these scattered churches, by the abuse
of the doctrine of free grace.
Human nature is the same now that it was then ; and it
300 CONNECTION BETWEEN
becomes necessary, therefore, for the believer to guard
against even the slightest tendency to live at ease in the
Churchjbecause the Church is not under law but under grace.
If the blood of Christ is a complete atonement for our sin,
this is a reason why we should resist unto blood striving
against sin, and not a reason why we should supinely yield
to sin. If there is no condemnation to them that are in
Christ Jesus, this is a reason why we should dread to incur
any new condemnation, and not a reason why we should
add to the already immense debt which Christ has assumed
for us.
The effectual preservative against such a tendency as
this, is to remember the wholesome doctrine of St. James,
that a man is not justified by a dead faith, but by a work-
ing faith. A dead faith has no justifying efficacy, be-
cause, as St. Paul remarks of a heathen idol, " it is nothing
in the world." It is a nonentity. A dead faith — a faith
that does nothing, and produces nothing — is nothing. It
is a pretence. It is sheer hypocrisy. It can no more save
the soul, than sin can save it.
Try yourself, then, by this test. Does your faith in
Christ's atonement worli, f When you have trusted in the
blood and righteousness of Christ for acceptance with the
holy God, do you find that this reliance of your heart then
goes out into acts ? Does it go out in love, peace, joy,
long-suffering, meekness, hope ? These are internal acts
of the mind and heart ; and they are the fruit, and evidences
of faith. Does it go out in external acts — in prayer, praise,
labor for the good of souls, discharge of the various duties
of a Christian profession ? If this is your happy case,
yours is a working faith, and a justifying faith. Notice
that these works — this peace, joy, hope, prayer, praise,
Christian benevolence, and discharge of duty — are not the
ground and reason of your justification, but only the effect
FAITH AND WOKKS. 301
and fruits of it. You are accepted of God, and acquitted
by him, solely and simply because you confide in Christ's
death for sin. You are justified by this one act of faith in
Christ's atonement, apart from any of these resulting
works. And being thus justified, you then act out your
faith in and by these works — internal and external. There
is no legality in your experience, and yet you keep the
law with great particularity. While you do not look to
the law in the least for justification, you nevertheless
magnify and honor the law by your obedience to its re-
quirements. You do not obey the law in order to obtain
the forgiveness of your sins. They are already forgiven
for Christ's sake. That part of your salvation is secure.
But you obey the law because you are forgiven ; because
you love to obey ; and because it is the command of God
to obey. You obey it because your faith in Christ's blood
is living, and not dead ; is working faith, and not in-
operative faith ; is sincere faith, and not hypocritical faith
— the genuine principle which St. Paul praises and de-
fends, and not the counterfeit which St. James condemns
and attacks.
SERMON XX.
THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT, YET A SAINT.
COLOSSIANS iii. 12. — '* Put on, therefore, as the elect of God, holy and
beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness,
long-suffering."
It appears singular to the reader of St. Paul's Epistles,
that the apostle in one passage speaks of Christians as
perfect, and in another as imperfect. At one time, he
describes them in terms that would lead us to infer that
they are holy as God is holy ; and at another, he speaks of
them as full of sin and corruption. In the text, he de-
nominates them " the elect of God holy and beloved," and
yet immediately proceeds to exhort them to the possession
and practice of the most common Christian graces — such
as humility and forgiveness. In a preceding paragraph,
he tells the Colossians that they " are dead to sin, and their
life is hid with Christ in God," and then goes on to urge
them to overcome some of the most gross sins in the whole
catalogue — " mortify, therefore, your members which are
upon the earth ; fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affec-
tion, evil concupiscence, and covetousness which is idola-
try." (Coloss. iii. 3-5.)
This characteristic is very strikingly exhibited in St.
Paul's Epistles to the Corinthians. We know from both of
the letters which he wrote to this church, that there was
THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT, YET A SAINT. 303
much corruption within it. Planted in the midst of one
of the most vicious cities of the pagan world, the converts
to Christianity had been drawn forth from a very unclean
paganism, and after their conversion they were exposed to
the strongest temptations. Some of their number yielded to
them. The apostle calls upon the Corinthian church to dis-
cipline one of its members for incest ; he rebukes them for
their shameful abuse of the Lord's Supper ; for their party
spirit, and jealousies, that led them to take sides with men —
with Paul, and Apollos, and Cephas ; and for the bicker-
ings and litigations that arrayed Christian against Chris-
tian, even in the courts of the idolatrous pagan. And yet,
in the opening of his first Epistle, St. Paul addresses such
a church as this, in the following terms : " I thank my
God always on your behalf, for the grace of God which is
given you by Jesus Christ ; that in everything ye are en-
riched by him, in all utterance, and in all knowledge ; even
as the testimony of Christ was confirmed in you ; so that
ye come behind in no gift ; waiting for the coming of our
Lord Jesus Christ ; who shall also confirm you unto the
end, that ye may be blameless in the day of our Lord
Jesus Christ." (1 Cor. i. 4-8.)
How are we to explain such opposite representations ?
Is the Christian " holy and beloved," and yet at the same
time vile and polluted ? Is he " dead to sin and his life
hid with Christ in God," and also a wretched man " tied
to the body of this death," and crying out, " Who shall
deliver me ? " Can he say with the Psalmist, " Preserve
me, O ray God, for I am holy," and with Isaiah, " I am un-
done, I am a man of unclean lips ? " Does St. Paul cor-
rectly describe the experience of a renewed man, both
when he utters himself in the confident phrase : " I live,
yet not I, but Christ liveth in me ; " and when he expresses
his anxieties in the afiirmation, that he struggles daily
304 THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT,
with indwelling corruption, and " keeps his body under,
lest he should be a cast-away from God ? " It is even so.
This is one of the paradoxes of Christianity, as Lord Bacon
calls them. " A Christian," he says, " is one that believes
things his reason cannot comprehend, and hopes for things
which neither he nor any man alive ever saw ; he believes
three to be one, and one to be three, a father not to be
older than his son, and a son to be equal with his father ;
he believes himself to be precious in God's sight, and yet
loathes himself in his own ; he dares not justify himself
even in those things wherein he can find no fault with him-
self, and yet believes that God accepts him in those ser-
vices wherein he is able to find many faults ; he is so
ashamed as that he dares not open his mouth before God,
and yet he comes with boldness to God, and asks him any-
thing he needs ; he hath within him both flesh and spirit,
yet he is not a double-minded man; he is of ten led captive
by the law of sin, yet, it never gets dominion over him ;
he cannot sin, yet can do nothing without sin ; he is so
humble as to acknowledge himself to deserve nothing but
evil ; and yet he believes that God means him all good."
These are contradictions to the carnal mind. These things
are foolishness to the Greek. Richard Porson, one of the
most learned classical scholars that England ever saw, and a
profound admirer of Lord Bacon, tells his reader that he
knows not what to make of this list of paradoxes, and
actually raises the query, whether Lord Bacon might not
have been laboring under a momentary fit of skepticism,
at the time he penned them. This " specification of the
characteristics of a believing Christian," by the most so-
ber and sagacious of English philosophers and statesmen,
which the believing Christian cannot peruse without pro-
found admiration at the depth of its evangelical insight,
and tender emotion for the comfort it gives him — this de-
YET A SAINT. 305
lineation of the inmost heart of the gospel, and of the
Christian experience, actually raised doubts in the mind of
a learned man of this world, whether Bacon of Yerularn
was not the subject of a lurking skepticism ! "We preach
Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and
unto the Greeks foolishness." (1 Cor. i. 23.)
These paradoxes are not self-contradictions. The decla-
ration : " When I am weak, then I am strong," does not
afiirm and deny the same thing. It affirms that when the
sinful and helpless man feels and confesses his utter impo-
tence, then the holy and almighty God comes to his rescue
and salvation. The affirmation that the Christian " be-
lieves himself to be precious in God's sight, yet loathes
himself in his own ; that he is often led captive by sin, yet
it does not get dominion over him;" is self -consistent and
true, because one side of the proposition does not conflict
with the other side. Verbally contradictory it is logically
harmonious.
In the light of these remarks, let us proceed to explain
how it is, that the apostle Paul can address a very imper-
fect church like the Colossian, with the title of " holy and
beloved ; " and why the Word of God calls an imperfectly
sanctified believer a " saint ? "
The reason why a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, al-
though struggling with sin here on earth, is designated by
the very same term employed to describe the pure and
perfect spirits in heaven, lies in the fact that he is a new
creature. " If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature ;
old things have passed away, and all things have become
new." If a man's moral nature has undergone a radical
change, it is proper to speak of him with reference to such
a transformation, and to employ language that in another
connection and reference would be both strange and un-
true. Suppose, for illustration, that the genius of John
306 THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT,
Milton, by the miraculous power of God, should have been
converted in the fourth year of his age into the genius of
Isaac Newton. Suppose that the poetical nature of the
author of the Paradise Lost, should have been transformed
into the scientific nature of the author of the Principia, at
an early period in life, before the maturity of the mental
powers had arrived. In this case, would it not be correct
and proper to employ concerning this " new man " within
the man Milton, this new basis for thought and investiga-
tion, all the phraseology which we now apply to Sir Isaac
Newton ? Though only four years old, and though the
relics of the old poetical nature might be still lingering in
him, like fragments of rich crimson tapestry in an old
royal palace, still we could say of this youthful convert
from poetry to science, that he was a perfect mathemati-
cian ; that the law of gravitation was within his ken ; that
the theorems of the Principia were all scored in his young
brain. That which is inlaid in man by the power of God
is destined to a development ; and the unfolding cannot be
thwarted. And therefore it is, that we may describe a
morally renewed man, in the very opening of his career,
by terms and phraseology derived from the close of it.
We may call him a " perfect " man, because he is destined
to become such. We may call him a " saint," because God
has elected him to be one, and will carry out his purpose.
We may call him a citizen of the kingdom of heaven on
high, because a principle of holiness has been implanted
within him that will bring him there.
Such application of language is spontaneous and natural
to us, in daily life. Whenever we discover an inward
basis for a particular result, we do not hesitate to speak of
the result as if it had already occurred. You see, for il-
lustration, a man lying upon a bed in a hospital, and are
told that he is sick with pulmonary consumption. The
YET A SAINT. 307
hollow cheek, the hectic flush, the emaciated flesh, the
gasping inspiration, all show that the man is in the last
stages of that terrible disease concerning which Machia-
velli remarks, that " in the beginning it is easy to cure but
difficult to understand, but in the end, is easy to under-
stand and difficult to cure." ' As you look upon him, you
say to yourself : " He is a dead man." You spontaneously
anticipate the natural result. The breath of life is still in
him. He looks into your eyes with the glance of human
intelligence. He is not cold and silent in death. He
speaks to you, and you to him. Yet you say : " He is a
dead man." There is a basis for death in him. The prin-
ciple of mortality, the power of death, is within him, and
you merely ante-date, by a few days, weeks or months, its
inevitable consequences and results.
The Scriptures reason in the same manner, concerning
the state and condition of the unrenewed man. They call
him dead, long before his body actually dies, and long be-
fore his soul feels the pangs of the second death. Though
the sinner is apparently happy and well, engaged in the
business and pleasures of earth, the blood coursing vividly
in his veins, and his spirits bounding and free, yet the
solemn and truthful Word of God describes him in terms
that are borrowed from the dust and crumble of the tomb.
They never regard him, or call him, a living man. " Awake,
O sleeper, and Christ shall give thee life," is the startling
tone in which they speak to the impenitent man of busi-
ness, and man of pleasure. Christ everywhere represents
it as his mission, to impart life. The Son of man is lifted
up upon the atoning cross, " that whosoever believeth in
him should not perish, but have eternal life. He that be-
lieveth not the Son shall not see life. Except ye eat the
flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no
» Machiavelli : The Prince, Cli. III.
308 THE CHRISTIAN IMPERFECT,
life in you. If one died for all, then were all dead."
This is the view which the Scriptures take of every unre-
generate man, because they perceive in him a principle of
sin, and spiritual disease, that will just as surely develop
into the death and woe of hell, as the principle of physical
disease will expand and unfold into the pangs and dissolu-
tion of the body. As in the instance of the renewed man,
the Scriptures ante-date the natural and certain conse-
quences of the new birth, and anticipate the natural and
certain results of the new principle of spiritual life, and de-
nominate the Christian a saint, holy and beloved, long
before he reaches the heavenly world, and long before he
attains to sinless perfection, so upon the same principle,
they ante-date the sure and unfailing development of sin
in the natural man, and, long before he actually enters the
sad world of woe, speak of him as dead and lost. On the
side of sin, as well as on the side of holiness, it is natural
and proper to see the fruit in the seed, and to attribute to
the little seed, all the properties and qualities of the ripe
and perfected fruit. " Whatsoever a man soweth, that also
shall he reap."
Let us now consider some of the lessons, that are taught
by the fact that God denominates his imperfectly sancti-
fied people, " holy and beloved," the " saints of the Most
High God."
I. The first lesson to be derived from this subject is,
that the child of God should not be ducouraged because he
discovers indwelling sin, and imperfection, within himself.
A believer in the Lord Jesus Christ ought never to be dis-
couraged. He ought to be humble, watchful, nay, some-
times fearful, but never despondent, or despairing. David,
Paul, and the Colossian church were imperfect. But they
were new men in Christ Jesus, and they are now perfectly
holy and happy in heaven.
YET A SAINT. 309
The duty of the Christian is, to assure himself upon
scriptural grounds of his regeneration, and then to " work
out his salvation with fear and trembling, because it is
God that worketh in him to will and to do." The fact
that he is a new creature, if established, is a proof that
God is helping him in the struggle with indwelling sin ;
and when God helps, victory is sure in the end. Believers
are commanded to " examine themselves," not for the pur-
pose of seeing whether they are perfectly sanctified,
but "whether they be in the faith." We may make our
self-examination minister to our discom-agement, and hin-
drance in the Christian race, if, instead of instituting it for
the purpose of discovering whether we have a penitent
spirit, and do cordially accept Christ as our righteousness,
we enter upon it for the purpose of discovering if we are
entirely free from corruption. Remainders of the old
fallen nature may exist in connection with true faith in
Christ, and a new heart. Paul bemoans himself, saying :
" The good which I would I do not ; but the evil which I
would not that I do." But Paul was certain that he
trusted in the blood of Christ for the remission of sin ;
that he was a new man in Christ Jesus, and influenced
by totally different motives from those that actuated him
when he persecuted the Church of Christ ; that he loved
Christ more than the whole universe, and " counted all
things but dung that he might win Christ," and become a
perfect creature in him.
The .first and chief thing, therefore, which the Christian
should have in his eye, in all his self-examination, is, to
determine upon scriptural grounds whether he is a renewed
man. The evidences of regeneration are plain, and plainly
stated. We have already hinted at them. A sense of
guilt and cordial acceptance of Christ's atonement, a desire
to be justified by his precious blood, a peaceful confidence
310 THE CHEISTIAN IMPERFECT,
in God's righteousness and method of justifying a sinner —
this is the first and infallible token of a new heart, and a
right spirit. Then, secondly, a weariness of sin, " a groan-
ing, being burdened " under its lingering presence and re-
maining power, a growing desire to be entirely delivered
from it, and a purer simpler hungering after holiness —
these are the other evidences of regeneration. Search
yourselves to see whether these things be in you, and if
you find them really, though it may be faintly and feebly,
in your experience, do not be discouraged because along
with them you discover remaining corruption. Remember
that as a man struck with death is a dead man, so a soul
that has been quickened into life is a living soul, even
though the remnants of disease still hang about it and
upon it. The " new man " in Christ Jesus will eventually
slay stone-dead the "old man" of sin. The "strong
man " has entered into the house, and bound the occupant
hand and foot, and he will in time " spoil his house."
The truth that God will carry forward his work in the
renewed soul, and that the principle of piety implanted by
Divine grace will develop to perfection, may indeed be
abused by the false Christian ; but this is no reason why
the genuine child of God should not use it for his en-
couragement, and progress in this divine life. One of the
evidences of regeneration, however, if considered, will pre-
vent all misuse of the doctrine of the saint's perseverance.
A " groaning, being burdened " by the remaining presence
of sin, is a sign of being a new creature. How can a man
have this grief and sadness of heart at the sight of his in-
dwelling corruption, and at the same time roll sin as a
sweet morsel under the tongue ? How shall one, whose
great burden it is, that he is tied to the body of sin and
death, proceed to make that burden heavier and heavier,
by a life of ease, indifference and worldliness ? " How
YET A SAINT. 311
shall we that are dead to sin live any longer therein ? "
No, my brother, if you really groan, being burdened be-
cause you are still so worldly, so proud, so selfish, so sinful,
you are a new creature. You never did this in the days
of your impenitency. You were " alive without the law,"
then. You did not feel the heavy, weary, weight pressing
down upon you. You did not say with the Psalmist, as
you now do : " My sin is ever before me." This very im-
perfection which you now painfully feel, is the very evi-
dence that you are on the way to perfection ; it is the sign
that there is a new principle of holiness implanted in your
soul, one of whose effects is this very consciousness of re-
maining corruption, and one of whose glorious results will
be the final and eternal eradication of it, when the soul
leaves the body and enters paradise.
II. The second lesson taught by the subject, is the duty
of the Christian to cultivate the new nature, and develop
the new principle of holiness.
" Put on," says St. Paul, " as the elect of God, holy and
beloved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind,
meekness, long-suffering." By this, it is not to be under-
stood, that mercifulness, kindness, humility, meekness, and
patience, are graces that are to be originated by the Chris-
tian, and added to his character by his own agency. These
are traits that belong intrinsically to the "new man" in
Christ Jesus. These are qualities that issue from the
" new heart," and the " right spirit," which the regenerat-
ing power of God has originated. To " put them on,"
therefore, is to put them forth ; to elicit them ; to draw
them out from within, and exhibit them in daily life.
They are all contained germinally in the regenerate mind ;
and the particular duty which is devolved upon the believer
is that of training them.
Do you ask, How ? We answer : By taking every oc-
312 THE CHEISTIAN IMPERFECT,
casion to exercise them. One of the graces is " kindness "
— a gentle, affectionate, benevolent feeling towards every
fellow-creature. Every opportunity that you seize to give
expression to such a sentiment, elicits what is within you ;
it draws upon the reserve and strength of your religious
character in that particular direction, and trains it. Why
is it that these " bowels of mercies," as St. Paul phrases
it ; this yearning compassion for the human soul ; is so
striking a characteristic of devoted teachers in church
schools and mission schools, in home and foreign mission-
aries, and in all that class of Christians who are engaged
in personal efforts for the salvation of men ? It is because
they " put on " this particular grace, by exerting it in
daily life. Strain day after day upon a particular muscle,
and it will begin to swell and rise above the flesh. You
do not create the muscle by this effort, but you stimulate
and strengthen it.
There is too much Christian character lying dormant,
and latent, because there is so much neglect of self-culture
in the Church. We have no confidence in the attempt to
cultivate an unrenewed man into piety. He must be boiTi
again, in order that there may be something to cultivate
— something to educate, to elicit, in St. Paul's phrase, to
" put on." But we have great confidence in the endeavor
to cultivate a really renewed man. When a new heart has
been formed, a new character has been produced, a new
principle of religious life has been implanted by the Holy
Spirit, then no process is more successful and beautiful
than the process of cultivation. It is like cultivating a
garden full of living things. Every prudent use of the
pruning-knife ; every ministry of earth, air, water, and nour-
ishment ; contributes to elicit the vital powers and princi-
ples. Just so it is in the garden of the Lord. If Chris-
tians were only as diligent in self-cultivation as many an
YET A SAINT. 313
ambitious student is, nay, as many an ascetic papist or pa-
gan devotee is, their growth would surprise even them-
selves. The secular scholar shuts himself from business
and pleasure ; he " scorns delights, and lives laborious
days;" in order that he may gain renown, and "leave
something so written to after-times as men will not will-
ingly let die." Suppose that every professing Christian
should devote himself with an equal assiduity, to the
training of his own soul in divine knowledge and piety.
Suppose that, like the scholar, he should make business
and pleasure second and subservient to the one ruling
principle of his mind and heart. Would not that princi-
ple— and he has professed before angels and men, that it
is the principle of faith in Christ's blood — be as power-
fully stimulated, and as vigorously elicited, as is the prin-
ciple of literary ambition in the ardent and toiling stu-
dent ?
Suppose, again, that every member of the Christian
Church should spend as many hours in prayer, as many a
Papist or Mohammedan does in his daily devotions, would
not the religious character of the Church be stronger,
deeper, and purer than it now is ? Suppose that all the
myriads and millions in the visible Church were as self-
sacrificing as the Hindoo ascetic who walks, perhaps creeps,
hundreds of miles, to pay his devotions at a pagan shrine ;
who swings himself round and round upon the sharp
hooks, or mortifies his body even to mutilation — suppose
that there were the same readiness to make an effort to be
highly religious, in the average of professing Christians,
that there is in these select few of the Papal Church, or
the Mohammedan world, would not the I'esults and fruits
be remarkable ?
For you will bear in mind, that a given amount of power
applied from a sanctified motive, and principle, will ac-
14
314 THE CHRISTIAN IMPEEFECT, YET A SAINT.
complish vastly more than when applied from an unsancti-
fied motive and principle. If at heart you are a moralist,
or a worldling, your attempt to be holy and obedient to
God will accomplish nothing in the long run, because your
heart is not right with God. All your effort to be good,
and to do good, from an unregenerate position, is a dead
lift. But if you are renewed in the spirit of your mind,
then all your endeavors to cultivate yourself in holiness ;
all your self-denial, mortification of the body, and devotion
to duty ; is like the application of mechanical power at the
end of a long lever, and over a firm fulcrum. The re-
newed man possesses what the mechanic terms a "pur-
chase." His lift is not a dead lift, like that of the Pagan
or Mohammedan devotee ; like that of the Roman Catholic
ascetic ; like that of the Protestant moralist.
" Put on, therefore, as the elect of God, holy and be-
loved, bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind,
meekness, long-suffering." As those who have been re-
newed by Divine grace, and who possess a different spirit
and character from that which belonged to you in the days
of your impenitence, educate and elicit every Christian
grace. Cultivate your Christianity. It is worth cultivat-
ing. It is worth protecting from the cold blasts, and rude
assaults of earth. Fence in the vineyard of the Lord.
Put a hedge around it. Then the wild-boar of the wood
shall not ravage it ; then the soil shall not be trodden
down to hardness and barrenness, by the feet of the
passers-by.
SERMON XXI.
SANCTIFICATION COMPLETED AT DEATH.
1 Corinthians ii. 9. — " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither
have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared
for them that love him. "
These words primarily refer to the higher knowledge
which is in reserve for the Christian in heaven. St. Paul
is speaking to the Corinthian church of " the wisdom of
God in a mystery, even the hidden wisdom which none of
the princes of this world knew." He tells them that they
know something of it here, but shall know far more of it
hereafter. Upon earth, they see " through a glass darkly,"
but in heaven they shall see " face to face." In the next
M^orld, all doubts and perplexities shall be removed from
the understanding, and the mind shall enjoy clear and sat-
isfactory perceptions of divine things. All the previous
views upon such subjects will seem so dim, in comparison
with the final vision and disclosure, that it may be said
that eye has never seen, nor ear ever heard, nor heart ever
conceived of it before. Not that the spiritual man while
here below has had no inkling of the eternal vision, and
no glimpse of the eternal truth ; but his knowledge is so
inferior to what is poured into the mind when it enters
heaven, that it seems nothing in comparison.
But although the primary reference of the text is to an
316 SANCTIFICATION
intellectual perception, rather than to an emotional enjoy-
ment ; though the apostle directs attention rather to the
soul's knowledge, than to the soul's happiness ; yet it is
natural to refer these words, as we so generally do, to the
blessedness of the redeemed in heaven. Probably the ma-
jority of readers suppose that " the things which God hath
prepared for them that love him " — those particular things
which the apostle had in mind, as not visible by the earthly
eye, not audible by the mortal ear, and not cognizable in
this mode of existence — are the same that are described
under the glowing imagery of the sea of glass, the sapphire
pavement, the jasper foundations, and the gates of pearl.
It is the heavenly happiness, i-ather than the heavenly
knowledge, which commonly comes into mind when this
text is quoted. And this, we have said, is natural and
proper. ISTo violence is done to the apostle's teaching,
when his words are followed in to their implication, and
followed out to their full significance. For, heavenly
knowledge produces heavenly happiness. To see, with a
clear calm perception, the truths and the facts of eternity,
is joy. Much of the dissatisfaction and unrest of the
Christian life, upon earth, arises from indistinct and inad-
equate perceptions. The soul " sees through a glass dark-
ly," or, as the original signifies, " looks, through a mir-
ror, into an enigma." It gropes its way in twilight, and
a thick atmosphere. Like the mariner in a fog, it peers
into the distance, and strains the eye, but sees no distinct
object. In such a condition, though there may not be
positive unhappiness, because there is hope that the winds
and the sun will dispel the mist, yet there is no full and
complete satisfaction. Not until the sun actually shines,
and the long line of the coast quivers in the liquid light,
and the mountain ranges lift themselves into bold view,
are the eye and the heart of the mariner at rest.
COMPLETED AT DEATH. 317
Spiritual knowledge, tlien, in its influence and effects, is
spiritual enjoyment, and the words of the apostle may
therefore be understood to teach, that the hwppiness which
a believer will experience in heaven is so surpassingly great,
in comparison with what he has experienced upon earth,
that it may be said that his eye has not seen, nor his ear
heard, nor his heart conceived of it.
In order to understand this truth, and feel its impression,
we must remember that the Christian life upon earth is a
race and a fight, and consequently cannot be a rest and a
paradise. The Scriptures uniformly represent the course
and career of a believer, this side the grave, as one of con-
flict, toil, and effort. " Except a man take his cross daily,
he cannot be my disciple. In the world, ye shall have
tribulation." These are the declarations of the Founder
of Christianity, and they enunciate the real nature of his
religion, as it must exist in a world that is sinful, full of
temptation, and unfriendly to holiness. " "We are troubled
on every side ; we are perplexed ; we are persecuted ; we
are cast down. We continually bear about in the body,
the dying of the Lord Jesus. We are always delivered
unto death, for Jesus' sake." These are the assertions of one
of the most eminent and successful of Christ's disciples ;
and although he was called to experience more of external
opposition and persecution than the Church at large, it
is probable that he had his compensation, in being freer
than most Christians from internal conflict and trouble.
Whether, then, we consider the direct declaration of
Christ himself, or the complaints of his people, we find
that the life of a believer, so long as he is upon earth, is
one of effort and struggle.
For those who live in the peaceful times of the Church,
this struggle and endeavor is chiefly of an inward kind.
The life of a Christian, in more senses than one, is a hid-
318 SANCTIFICATION
den life. What a subterranean current of temptation, and
resistance, is silently running at this very instant in millions
of human hearts. The world sees none of it ; but the un-
seen combat with the invisible foe is every moment going
on. How unceasingly is the conflict between the new man
and the old man, the conscience and the will, the spirit
and the flesh, the grace of God and the indwelling cor-
ruption, waging in the soul of every child of God. In the
market-place, in the house of God, in the privacy of the
closet, in the intercourse of the household, how incessantly
is the temptation presenting itself, and how constantly by
the grace of God is it repulsed. Sometimes the wish
arises that the temptations of this earthly course might be
concentrated, and that the destiny of the soul might be de-
cided by a single terrible conflict, instead of by this slow,
pertinacious, life-long warfare. The acquisition of holiness,
by a renewed man, resembles the ancient wars which were
prolonged sometimes for more than a generation. The
Dorians of Laconia fought seventy-six years with the Dori-
ans of Messene, for the supremacy of that little patch of
earth, the Peloponnesus. The Roman contended thirty
years with the Samnite, for the possession of Italy, and
forty years with the Carthaginian, for the dominion of the
world. And the Christian fights his fight with the world,
the flesh, and the devil, not in a day or a year, but through
all his days, and all his years.
Now it is plain, that such a state of things cannot last
forever. " There remaineth a rest, for the people of God."
Man was not designed by creation, to be eternally running
a race, and eternally fighting a fight. He was intended
for harmony, for peace, for joy. Nothing but sin has in-
troduced such a condition of affairs. This struggle, and
effort, results from the endeavor to get free from an un-
lawful and wrong state of the soul. Had man not fallen,
COMPLETED AT DEATH. 319
his career would have been the serene and unhindered one
of the angels of God. It was his original destination, to
be conformed to law without any struggle of opposing
desires ; without any collision between will and conscience.
As created, and unfallen, there was in man not the slight-
est conflict between his duty and his inclination, and con-
sequently there was no need, so far as the Divine intention
was concerned, of any race, or any fight. When, there-
fore, the grace of God quickens the " spirit," and slays the
"flesh," in any individual man, and thus initiates that
conflict between the two which St. Paul describes in the
seventh chapter of Konians, it is not for the purpose of
continuing the conflict through all eternity. It is a strug-
gle only for time, and is to cease when time is over.
The intention is, to bring in that perfect and blessed con-
dition of the soul, in which all the powers are in right
relations ; in which the higher shall firmly rule the lower,
and the lower shall submissively obey the higher.
Accordingly, the text teaches that the Christian who
has been patient and faithful in running the race, and
fighting the fight, will finally be relieved from the necessity
of strain and effort. " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which
God hsitliprepared for them that love him. " The believer's
experience here upon eartli has been trying and painful,
and must not be taken as a specimen of the heavenly life.
God has provided a blessed calm, and rest, beyond the tomb.
It is something far beyond what the eye has seen here,
what the ear has heard, what the heart has conceived of.
The believer is sometimes disheartened, from imagining
that his life in eternity will be much like his life in time.
As he throws his glance forward, he seems to see stretch-
ing before him an endless series of temptations and resist-
ances, of successes and failures. As it is here, so he thinks
320 SANCTIFICATION
it will be there — a perpetual race, an everlasting fight.
But he should remember that the great God his Saviour
intends to "perfect that which concerneth him ; " to com-
plete the work of sanctification in his soul. And this, too,
bj a direct intervention, when the soul leaves the body.
As, at the new birth of his soul, God the Holy Ghost re-
generated him by an instantaneous efficiency that was
supernatural, and not a mere link in the ordinary move-
ments of nature and providence, so, at death, the remain-
ing corruption which the race and the fight have not
succeeded in purging away, shall be removed by a corre-
sponding decisive energy on the part of the Great Sanctifier.
This must be so. For our text tells us of a " preparation "
— a personal and direct arrangement upon the part of God.
And how is the sin which the holiest of men are conscious
of in their very dying hour to be cleansed away, except by
the finishing strokes of Divine grace ? They have struggled
with their inward corruption for many long years. They
have not been idle in keeping the heart. They have not
been unsuccessful ; for they have grown more saintly, to
the close of life. And yet, like St. Paul, although "hav-
ing the first fruits of the Spirit they still groan within
themselves, waiting for their adoption, to wit, their com-
plete redemption." (Rom. viii. 23.) At the same rate of
progress as in the past, it would require years ; it might
require one whole life-time after another ; to extirpate en-
tirely the remaining depravity. How shall it be cleansed
away, and the soul stand a spotless soul in the presence of
Him who cannot endure the least taint of depravity, ex-
cept by that crowning and completing act of grace, by
which the imperfectly sanctified believer, in a moment, in
the twinkling of an eye, becomes a "justified man made
perfect ; " by which, when the believer beholds his Lord,
" he shall be like him, for he shall see him as he is."
COMPLETED AT DEATH. 321
"We live in a world of natural laws and operations, and
for this reason find it difficult to get out of the circle of
slow and gradual processes. Our Christian character, here
below, forms and matures very much like the fruits of the
earth — first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in
the ear. The oak builds up its fabric, by a slow assimila-
tion of the nutritive elements, and compacts its fibre, by a
long conflict with the winds and the storms ; and we, too,
strengthen our moral force, and confirm our virtue, by a
similar method. We are in the habit, consequently, of
supposing that there is no other method than this gradual
one, and limit the Divine efficiency by it. We forget that
God is the sovereign of both realms — the natural and the
supernatural — and that he is able and free to work in either
of them. Even in our own personal history, he has so
wrought. That act by which, when we were dead in tres-
passes and sins, he made us alive unto righteousness, is not
explainable upon natural principles. It was not by the
gradual method of growth and education, that we made
the passage from nature to grace. We were " created
anew " in Christ Jesus. After the passage was made, we
did indeed find that a process was commenced within our
hearts that bore all the marks of a gradual, a continuous,
and, alas ! a very slow movement. Our inordinate and
earthly affections declined very gradually. Our envy, our
pride, our malice, waned away so slowly, that we sometimes
queried whether it was a waning, or a waxing. On the
other hand, our devout and spiritual affections — our love,
joy, peace, faith, hope — grew so slightly and feebly, that we
could be certain that they had grown, only by comparing
ourselves with ourselves after long intervals. Our sanctifi-
cation has been progressive, and not instantaneous ; and in
these respects finds its parallel in the leaven that gradually
pervades the whole mass, and in the mustard-seed which re-
14*
322 SANCTIFICATION
quires months and years for its expansion. But our regener-
ation was instantaneous. "We have, therefore, within the
sphere of our own experience, the proof that God works
both instantaneously and progressively ; by a method that
is startling, and a method that is uniform. He begins a
work by a fiat, and then he carries it forward by a culture.
He instantaneously creates us new men in Christ Jesus,
and then he gradually educates us towards the stature of
perfect men in Christ Jesus.
We are not, therefore, to limit the Divine efficiency either
to a creating, or to an educating function, solely. We ought
not to suppose that because our regeneration was instantane-
ous, the development and maturing of Christian character
must be so likewise, and that therefore we may neglect
the means of grace and of growth. And on the other
hand, we ought not to think that because our sanctification
proceeds so gradually, and is worked out by the trial,
temptation, and discipline of a whole life-time, therefore
all rapid changes are forever excluded from our future his-
tory, and God will never intervene with a more determined
and decisive influence.
Our text helps us out of our proneness to err, by direct-
ing attention to what God is intending to do in the souls
of his children, when in his providence they shall be sum-
moned before him. No one can appear in his presence
with remaining sin. "Without holiness no man shall see
the Lord." But we know that so long as we are in the
flesh, the " motions of sins in our members " do continue to
molest, and sometimes to foil us. Between the last mo-
ments upon earth, and the first moments in heaven, there
must, therefore, pass upon us that transformation by which
the imperfect believer becomes the perfected saint. It is
not a radical change, like that which introduced us into
the kingdom of God. It is not the formation of a new
COMPLETED AT DEATH. 323
heart, and a riglit spirit. But it is the completion, by a
swift and mighty act of the Holy Spirit, of a process that
was commenced it may be long years ago, and which has
lingered and fluctuated with our feeble and hesitating ef-
forts after holiness. He who upon earth has run the race,
and fought the fight, will discover in that supreme moment
when he first stands face to face with the Holy One, that
Divine grace has been sufiicient for him. He will find
himself to be perfectly holy, and perfectly happy. All
that he has heretofore experienced of peace and joy is as
nothing, in comparison with the blessedness which now
fills his soul. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart
conceived of it before. In comparison with the past im-
perfection, the present spotlessness, and purity, and com-
plete deliverance from all corruption, will appear almost
incredible. Undoubtedly the feeling of surprise will mingle
with the other emotions that will distend the redeemed
soul, when it enters heaven. And this surprise will spring
from the strange consciousness of being sinless. That
moral corruption which was born with the soul ; which
grew with its growth, and strengthened with its strength ;
which received, indeed, its death wound by the sword of
the Spirit, in regeneration, yet continued to show signs of
lingering vitality down to the very hour of bodily dissolu-
tion— that sin which has been a steady element in the con-
sciousness of the man, never leaving nor forsaking him so
long as he was upon earth, is now gone forever. Well may
" the redeemed of the Lord come to Mount Zion, with
singing and everlasting joy." Well may they say : " Eye
hath not seen, ear hath not heard, neither hath it entered
into the heart of man to conceive of the wonderful trans-
formation which the final act of sanctifying grace produces
in the soul."
It was owing to the opinion that the complete sanctifica-
324 SANCTIFICATION
tion of the Christian must be brought about by the ordi-
nary influences of the Spirit, in the use of the common
instrumentalities, that the doctrine of a cleansing in the
intermediate state crept into the Church. Thoughtful
and spiritual minds, like Augustine for example, perceived
that indwelling corruption attends the Christian up to the
very hour of death. They knew that no sin, however slight,
can appear before God. Hence they supposed that the
last stages of sanctification must occur beyond the tomb.
They imagined that a certain period must be allotted in
the future life to the imperfectly sanctified Christian, in
wiiich his remaining corruption should be removed by the
ordinary method of trial and discipline, and he thus be
made " without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing," pre-
paratory to going into the light of the Divine countenance.
But upon their own principles, there was no need of such
an intermediate cleansing. Their view of grace ought to
have precluded it. Augustine and his followers held, with
great decision, the doctrine of iy'resisiible grace — the
doctrine of an immediate and powerful energy of the Holy
Spirit, by which the most marked changes can be wrought
instantaneously in human character. Had they applied
this theory of Divine influence to the completion of the
work of sanctification, as they did to its inception, the
notion of a gradual purgation beyond this life would
not have arisen in their minds.
The text, then, has turned our attention to that final
act of God's redeeming grace, spoken of in the Westmin-
ster Shorter Catechism (37), by which, " at death, the
soul of a believer is made perfect in holiness, and im-
mediately passes into glory." The eye hath not seen its
operation, the ear hath not heard it, and the heart of man
cannot comprehend it. Yet it is one of " the things which
God hath prepared for them that love him." Having
COMPLETED AT DEATH. 325
begun a work of grace in the fallen sonl, he will carry it
forward unto " the day when he makes up his jewels " —
the day of the perfecting and final act of grace — and every
child of God may say confidently with the apostle: "I am
persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have com-
mitted to him against that day."
I. In view of this truth, we remark, in the first place,
that Christians should encourage themselves in their con-
tinual race and warfare upon earth, by the recollection that
they are not destined to run, and to Jight forever. A time
is coming when will and conscience, duty and inclination
will be perfectly identical. This conflict between the
flesh and the spirit is eventually to cease, and holiness will
be the natural and irrepressible activity of the soul. We
know, by bitter experience, how easy and effortless the
process of sinning is to a sinner ; we shall one day know,
how easy and effortless the process of obedience is to a
saint. There is a time coming, when the sorrow and fear
by which God is now educating us will end, and we shall
never grieve or be anxious again. Afl[liction will have
accomplished its work within us, and then God will wipe
away all tears. There is a time coming, when the weak
and struggling human will is to be no more solicited and
staggered by temptation ; when there will be no remaining
corruption to send up its appetites, and no unfriendly
world of outward objects to seduce the soul from God.
The race and the fight are not for eternity, but only for
time.
II. In the second place, the Christian should drive off
sluggishness, by recollecting that " a man is not crowned^
except he strive lawfully.''^ (2 Tim. ii. 5.) He must not
fold his arms, and neglect the keeping of his heart here
upon earth, because there is such a power in God to per-
fectly sanctify the human soul. Sanctifying influences are
326 SANCTIFICATION
granted to man, not absolutely and unconditionally. They
come to him in connection with the covenant of grace.
They are a part of an economy. He therefore who has
not entered into that covenant, and is not living under the
economy as a whole, cannot participate in the benefits of
a part of it. The whole or none, is the rule in spiritual
things. He, therefore, who does not daily take up his
cross on earth, must not expect to be the recipient of that
crowning grace of the Holy Spirit which perfects the soul
in holiness. This is the fatal error in the Sacramentarian
theory of grace. The Papist supposes that a person may
live an earthly and unspiritual life, and yet that by virtue
of the merely outward baptism of the Church, the cleans-
ing influence will be imparted. He forgets the apostolic
dictum : " That a man is not crowned, except he strive
lawfully " — that only he who carefully observes the rules
of the game, and of the arena, is entitled to the rewards of
the victor. He who attempts surreptitiously to obtain the
prize ; he who would steal the garland or the crown ; will
be repulsed ignominiously, and with contempt. He who
thinks to secure those great and lofty things which God
has prepared for them that love him, without passing
through the antecedent and preparatory steps and stages,
will in the last day meet with a terrible rebuke for his
presumption, and his selfishness, and his worthlessness.
This consideration is enough to drive off sluggishness,
and urge the Christian to constant activity. The com-
pleting of any work implies that it has been commenced,
and has passed through some stages of progress. If there
be nothing begun, it is absurd to speak of a finishing
stroke. Every sin, therefore, that is resisted, every tempta-
tion that is repulsed, and every grace that is strengthened
in the daily struggle, brings the work so much the nearer
to its conclusion. By these efforts we evince that we " love
COMPLETED AT DEATH. 327
God " — that we prefer his service, yearn after his holiness,
and aspire after his blessedness. And " for those that love
God," there " is prepared what the eye hath not seen, nor
the heart conceived of."
III. In the third place, the Christian, in view of the fact
that God will eventually complete the work of sanctifica-
tion, ought never to he discouraged, or despair of the result.
If tlie doctrine of the text be true, the believer is certain
to succeed. Let him " not be weary in well-doing, for in
due season he shall reap, if he faint not." That is a fine
sentiment which Plutarch puts into the mouth of Coriola-
nus. In a battle with the Yolscians, the Romans under
Coriolanus had charged with fury, and broken the enemy's
centre, and put them to a total rout. As they were start-
ing upon the pursuit, they begged of their general, who
was shattered and half-dead with wounds and fatigue, that
he would retire to the camp. "It is not for the victor to
tire of the battle," was the reply of Coriolanus, as he
joined in the onward rush and sweep of his army. It is
not for a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ ; it is not for
one who has been sprinkled with the expiating blood, and
has been born of the Holy Ghost ; to tire of the battle be-
tween the flesh and the spirit. Though the conflict may con-
tinue for many long years ; though very often " the spirit
is willing, but the flesh is weak ;" though sometimes "the
Borrows of death compass the soul, and the pangs of hell
get hold of it ; " still, the victory is sure in the end. Upon
such terms we can well afford to fight. Who would hesi-
tate to enlist in a war, if he knew infallibly that he shoidd
survive, that he should conquer, and that he should obtain
everything that he fought for ? Yet such is the state of
the case, with those that " love God," and are " the called
according to his purpose." Every soul of man which here
upon earth daily takes up the cross, is rapidly nearing that
328 SANCTIFICATION COMPLETED AT DEATH.
point where it shall lay it down. Every disciple of Christ
who here in time walks with him in tribulation, and
temptation, is approaching that serene and sheltered spot
where temptation and tribulation are absolutely unknown.
One thing is as certain as the other. Does a man know
that he is daily tighting the fight ; he may know infallibly,
then, that one day he shall as victor cease the conflict, and
lay down his armor.
SERMOK XXII.
WATCHFULNESS AND PKAYERFULNESS.
1 Peter iv. 7. — "Watch unto prayer."
In explaining this injunction of St. Peter, we shall show
the importance of a watchful and prayerful spirit, by con-
sidering the innate disposition of the human heart. We
shall find the argument derived from the fact that man is
naturally inclined to sin ; or, in the phrase of Scripture, is
'' horn in sin and conceived in iniquity ; " is of the strongest
kind for obeying the command : " Watch unto prayer."
The inborn disposition of any creature whatever is a
fundamental and most important part of it. It lies at the
centre, and is at once the fountain whence the whole ex-
ternal conduct flows, and the cause of its being what it is.
The innate disposition of a tiger is the source of his fierce
and ravenous actions ; that of the lamb, of its gentle,
harmless, and timid demeanor. The great difference in
the outward behavior of these two creatures is due to the
difference in the inward nature, or disposition.
Man also possesses an innate disposition ; and it is the
fountain whence issue all his outward acts. His every-day
life ai3t<i conduct is as true an exhibition of the human dis-
position, as the brute's every-day life is of the brute's dis-
position. We can predict with as much certainty what
330 WATCHFULNESS AND PEAYERFULNESS.
the conduct of a man with a sinful disposition will be, if
he is not deterred by fear, or shame, or some other selfish
motive, from acting it out, as we can what the conduct of
a tiger will be if he is struck. " Out of the heart," says
our Lord, " proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, for-
nications, thefts, false witness, blaspliemies. A good man,
out of the good treasure of the heart, bringeth forth good
things ; and an evil man, out of the evil treasure, bringeth
forth evil things." (Matt. xii. 35 ; xv. 19.)
The connection between the outward conduct and the
inward disposition is so invariable and certain, that the
Scriptures do not hesitate to pass even below the range of
animal life, for illustrations. Our Lord compares the re-
lation which a bad life bears to a bad heart, to that which
exists between the vegetable principle and its products.
" Every good tree bringeth forth good fruit ; but a corrupt
tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring
forth evil fruit ; neither can a corrupt tree bring forth
good fruit." (Matt. vii. 17, 18.) And hence he lays it
down as a general principle that the only way in which
mankind can be really improved is by a change of the
heart, or natural disposition. " Either make the tree good,
and his fruit good ; or else make the tree corrupt, and his
fruit corrupt." (Matt. xii. 33.) The conduct inevitably
follows the character ; and therefore there can be no total
change of conduct, except by a radical change of character.
But the purpose for -which the innate disposition of a
man is compared with that of a brute, and even with the
unconscious vital principle in a tree, is merely to illustrate
the truth that the outward flows from the inward, all the
world over. Go where we will ; pass through all the ranges
of matter and of mind ; we shall find it to be a universal
fact, that that which is without emanates from that which
is within. But the comparison cannot be pressed any fur-
WATCHFULNESS AND PKAYERFULNESS. 331
ther than this. While the inborn and natural disposition
of a man is analogous to that of an animal, and even to the
noxious principle in a plant or tree, in respect to the single
particular of its being the source of external products, the
analogy stops here. The sinful nature of man differs from
the ravenous nature of a lion, or the deadly virus of the
upas tree, in many respects ; and especially in regard to
the immensely important feature of resjionsibility to law.
The innate disposition of a fallen man is self-willed, and
culpable. Man is accountable at the bar of God, for his
wicked heart, as well as for his wicked actions. St. Peter
said to Simon the sorcerer : " Thy heart is not right in
the sight of God. Repent therefore of this thy wicked-
ness, and pray God, if perhaps the thought {iirivoio) of thy
heart may be forgiven thee." (Acts viii. 21, 22.) He
called him to repentance, not merely for the sin of propos-
ing to purchase the miraculous power of the Holy Ghost
with money, but for the avaricious, worldly, and ungodly
disposition that lay under it. But the brute is responsible
neither for his disposition, nor his actions. The lion's car-
nivorous nature is not a guilty one, because the lion had
nothing to do with its origin. It is not self-willed, but
created by God. It is as much a part of the original crea-
tion as the gem in the mine, or the poisonous life of the
deadly tree. The evil heart of man, on the contrary, out
of which proceed the evil thoughts, the murders, and the
adulteries, was no part of the six days' creative work upon
which God looked down, and pronounced it " good."
Man's sinful disposition, though innate because transmitted
from Adam, was not created by Almighty God. It is not
man's first and original disposition as he came from his
Maker's hand, but a second and subsequent disposition
originated by man himself. God made man upright, and
all the " treasure of the heart " — all the inward disposition
332 WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYEEFULNESS.
— was " good." The present " evil treasure of the heart "
— the existing sinful disposition of the will and affections —
began after the Creator's work was ended. It is the pro-
duct of the creature. This carnal mind, this sinful heart,
this selfish inclination, this wicked disposition, from which
all wrong acts issue, is the consequence of human apostasy.
It came in with Adam's fall. It is both self-will, and ill-
will. It is unforced and spontaneous self-determination
in every man, deserving to be punished because " it is
enmity towards God, is not subject to the law of God,
neither indeed can be." St. Paul has it in view, when he
affirms that " we are by nature the children of wrath."
(Eph. ii. 3.) And the Westminster Creed repeats this in-
spired declaration, when it asserts that " every sin, both
original and actual, being a transgression of the righteous
law of God, and contrary thereunto, doth in its own nature
bring guilt upon the sinner, whereby he is bound over to
the wrath of God, and curse of the law, and so made subject
to death, with all miseries spiritual, temporal, and eternal."
It was a position of the English deists, that man is exactly
as God made him ; and that therefore he is as irresponsible
as the brute, for the evil inclination of his heart. They
denied the free fall of man in Adam, and contended that
he comes by his so-called sinful nature as the animal does
by his carnivorous propensity — namely, by the creative act
of the Deity — and that consequently he is no more blame-
worthy for being murderous, or envious, or selfish, in his
inclination, than is the tiger for being ravenous. Says
Lord Herbert of Cherbury, one of the most moral of this
school of thinkers : " Men are not hastily to be condemned
who are led to sin by bodily constitution. The indulgence
of lust and anger is no more to be blamed than the thirst
occasioned by dropsy, or the drowsiness produced by
lethargy."
WATCHFULNESS AND PEAYEEFULNESS. 333
But this theory is refuted by human consciousness. No
man ever felt that it is true ; and millions of men have
felt that it is false. Millions have confessed the guilt of
their hearts, and mourned over it. If this position were
the real truth and fact, it must sooner or later have be-
come a matter of conscious experience for some portion of
the human family. An actual and stubborn fact cannot
be perpetually hid under a bushel. But who of the sons
of Adam was ever really and positively conscious of in-
nocency, for his malignant and murderous inclination ? for
his envious and selfish spirit ? for his sensual and cruel
disposition ? "Who ever had the abiding and unassailable
conviction, that human character is a wholly irresponsible
matter ? Furthermore, what does remorse signify and
teach upon this point ? A man may assert that he is
not accountable to God for either his character, or his con-
duct ; but there are certain moments, when an internal
moral anguish makes him conscious that he is. Else why
the anguish ? Why this moral tortui-e, as the man reads
his own heart, and studies his own character ? Is the brute,
with whom the theorist compares himself, and puts him-
self on a level, ever distressed because he has a fierce and
ravenous disposition ? Remorse of conscience which ap-
pears at times in every man, and which has made the
death-bed of some of these theorists a dreadful scene, is
conclusive that man comes by his sinful disposition in a
responsible manner — by free-will, and not by God's crea-
tive act. For, does the wise and good God torture his
creatures wantonly, and for nothing ? Does God put man
upon the rack of conscience in this life, and punish him
in the next life, knowing — as he must know, if it is a fact
— that there is no just ground for it in the voluntary agency
of man ? There is, indeed, a mystery surrounding the
free fall of all men in Adam, and the responsible origin of
334 WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYERFULNESS.
linman depravity — as much mystery as there is in the
origin of the soul itself, and no more — but something more
than mystery is requisite to establish the position, that
man is now exactly as God made him, and that he is not
guilty for his selfish disposition and malignant inclination.
Here is this remorse, which is a species of vital logic.
Arguments against it are like arguments to prove that fire
does not burn, when live coals are heaped upon a man's
head, and the fire is eating into the flesh.
With this brief notice of the fundamental importance,
and the culpability of man's sinful inclination, we proceed
to notice the call that is made by it upon the Christian, for
watchfulness and prayerfulness. For although the be-
liever has the new heart, or holy inclination, produced by
liis union with Christ, he still has the remainders of the
old evil inclination proceeding from his union and fall with
Adam. These relics furnish a great and strong reason for
the apostle's injunction : " Watch unto prayer ; " and for
the Saviour's urgency : " Watch and pray lest ye entet
into temptation ; the spirit truly is willing, but the flesh is
weak."
I. The first characteristic of man's sinful disposition, re-
quiring watchfulness upon the part of a Christian, is its
spontaneity. This is that quality in a thing which causes
it to move of itself. The living spring, speaking meta-
phorically, spontaneously leaps up into the sunlight, while
standing water must be pumped up. Living matter, in
animate existence, moves spontaneously, of its own accord,
while the corpse must be moved mechanically — must be
lifted and carried out. The feelings of the heart, when it
is full of life and hope, burst forth spontaneously, while
the manifestation of feeling by a sad and hopeless heart
is forced. Spontaneity, then, is the power of self-motion.
The spring, in a figure, lifts itself up ; living matter moves
WATCHFULNESS AND PRATEEFULNESS. 835
of itself ; and warm buoyant feelings require nothing but
their own force to set them in play.
Now, the sinful inclination, or disposition, or heart of
man is spontaneous in its action. Sin in all its forms,
original or actual, is unforced. Its motion is self-motion.
But a thing that can move of itself is able to move at any
moment, and is liahle to move. Did the movement de-
pend upon something other than self, and on the outside,
there would not be so much liability. Were man reluctantly
urged up to sin by some other agent than himself, there
would be less call for watchfulness. But the perfect ease,
and pleasure, and spontaneity with which he does his own
sinning, calls for an incessant vigilance not to do it. The
imperfectly sanctified Christian needs not to make a special
effort, in order to transgress. If he simply remains care-
less and unwatchful, the self-moving inclination will do its
own work without any struggle on his part. Hence, he is
liable to sin at any instant. Within him, there are the
relics of an evil disposition which by its very nature, and
quality, as easily and readily sends up evil thoughts, feel-
ings, and desires, as the fire of a furnace sends up smoke
and sparks.
Let us look into our own breasts, and see if there are
not remainders of our original depravity which, if not
watched, will lead us into disobedience at any and every
moment. Are there not propensities which are constant-
ly able, and liable to start into action ? How liable we
are to be proud, angry, vain, impure. Or, to specify
less evanescent feelings, how liable we are to worldliness,
to languor and deadness respecting heavenly objects, to
carnal-mindedness. And, except as we " watch unto
prayer," have we any security that they will not spontane-
ously rise into exercise at any instant, and take possession
of us altogether ?
330 WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYERFULNESS.
Our success in overcoming sin depends very nmch upon
our suspiciousness, and apprehensiveness — upon our fear-
ing that sin may get the mastery at any time. If we felt,
as St. Paul did when he feared lest he should be a cast-
away, that underneath, in the depths of the heart, there are
spontaneous inclinations constantly liable to come up to the
surface and acquire power by having a free exercise, we
should watch and pray as unceasingly as he did. For,
these sinful propensities, if kept down in the regenerate
soul, will finally die out. It is not so with the unre-
generate. He who substitutes morality for religion, and
attempts to regulate and repress his sinful inclination
without crying importunately to God for a clean heart, and
a right spirit — he who tries to make the fruit good, without
first making the tree good — this man labors in vain. For
though he bury his evil propensities for a time, they will
live underground. Toiling hard, he may choke down his
pride for this hour, but in the verj^ next it comes up in
ten-fold strength. By dint of great effort, he may wrestle
down his envy and ill-will as he meets this fellow-man,
but it rises before he thinks of it, on seeing the next man
that he dislikes. There is nothing within the unrenewed
man that can cope with, and subdue the evil inclination —
no faith, hope, love, and peace ; no new heart and right
spirit, with which to wage war with the sinful nature.
Hence, it is a fight without armor ; a dead lift without
any purchase. But the believer has been born of the
Spirit. There is within him a positive principle of faith,
and love, and holy life, implanted by the Holy Ghost in
the depths of the soul, which will ultimately slay all sin,
provided only that sin be kept down. If, by watching the
remainders of our wrong disposition, we will prevent
them from coming forth into thoughts, words, and acts ;
if we will confine them, and keep them side by side with
WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYERFULNESS. 337
the " new man," and compel them to stay down in the
depths of the soul, the sword of the Spirit will eventually
pierce them and kill them with a total and everlasting
death. If, on the contrary, we are unwatchf ul and prayer-
less, and allow indwelling sin to have free play and exer-
cise, we have no reason to expect that it will ever be
slain. Can religion in the heart conquer sin in the heart,
if we do not bring the two into close contact, and conflict ?
How can godliness get the victory, if we allow sinfulness
to flee away and rush out into life and action, and give it
a fair field ? No, we must watch these remains of our
sinful nature which are so liable to move, and which unless
repressed move of themselves. We must compel them to
stay down, until God the Spirit by constantly coming
into contact with them has killed them stone dead, never
to stir again. If we repress the outbursts of sin, we shall
discover with joy and courage that the sinful inclination is
really becoming weaker and weaker, and the new principle
of divine love stronger and stronger. We shall find the
dying spasms of sin becoming more and more feeble, until,
O wonderful event ! sin is completely and forever dead in
the soul.
11. A second characteristic of man's sinful disposition,
requiring watchfulness and prayerf ulness in the Christian,
is the fact that it can be tenvpted and solicited to move, at
any moment.
We have, thus far, spoken of the power which sin pos-
sesses of moving of itself, spontaneously ; of that quality,
by virtue of which it does not need any particular solicita-
tion, in order to its exercise. Our sinful inclination pos-
sesses this characteristic ; for do we need any particular
urging, or tempting, to be worldly minded, and to live away
from God? Is it not our natural disposition to do this ;
and must we be specially provoked to it ? But we are now
15
338 WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYERFULNESS.
to speak of that additional characteristic of man's sinful
disposition, by virtue of which it is capable of being stim-
ulated and elicited bj temptations ; and if we should
watch unto prayer because sin can move of itself, most
certainly should we because it can be solicited to move,
and we live in a world full of such solicitations. If gun-
powder were liable to self -explosion by virtue of its own
inherent properties, we should watch it most carefully even
if we were to keep it like truth at the bottom of a well ;
but if we were compelled to store it in a forge continually
full of sparks, there would be no limit to our vigilance lest
it should be ignited by some one of them.
How easily is the remaining sin in us tempted and
drawn out into exercise by tempting objects, and how full
the world is of such objects. A hard word, an unkind
look, a displeasing act on the part of another, will start sin
into motion, instanter. Wealth, fame, pleasure, fashion,
houses, lands, titles, husbands, wives, children, friends —
in brief, all creation — has the power to educe the sinful
nature of man. He is continually coming in contact with
things that allure him to transgress God's law. He is
surrounded by them. He is buried in them. He is
touched at a million points by the temptations of earth.
Look at our own situation, as we find it eveiy day of our
lives. See how we are encircled by objects, every one of
which is competent to start the old carnality into vigorous
action. See what temptations come from our business,
and how many they are. See what solicitations come from
our families, and how many and strong they are. Con-
eider what inducements to forget God, and to transgress
his commandments, come from the worldly or the gay so-
ciety in which we move. Is not the powder in the midst
of the sparks ? If unwatchful and prayerless, it is certain
and inevitable that we shall yield to these temptations.
WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYERFULNESS. 339
How can we prevent sin from breaking forth, tempted and
allured as it is at all points, if we do not " watch unto
prayer ? " Why, but because we do not soberly watch like
soldiers on guard, are we so much under the power of
temptations ? Why, but because we do not importunately
pray, have the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye,
and the pride of life, such a disastrous influence at this
very moment upon our professed piety ?
The fact, then, that temptations are liable to elicit the
remaining corruption in the Christian's heart, is a strong
reason why he should obey the apostle's injunction in the
text. Says the saintly and " white-robed " Leighton :
" The children of God often find to their grief, that cor-
ruptions which they thought had become cold dead, stir,
and rise up again, and set upon them. A passion or lust
that after some great stroke lay a long while as dead,
stirred not, and therefore they thought to have heard no
more of it, though it shall never recover fully again to be
lively as before, yet will revive in such a manner as to
molest and possibly to foil them yet again. Therefore it
is continually necessary that they live in arms, and put
them not off to their dying day." '
III. A third characteristic of man's innate disposition
requiring watchfulness and prayer, is the fact that it ac-
quires the habit of being moved by temptation.
It is more difficult to stop a thing that has the habit of
motion, than one that has not, because habit is a second
nature and imparts additional force to the first one. This
is eminently true of sin, which by being allowed an habitual
motion becomes so powerful that few overcome it. The
great majority of wrong habits that have been formed in
human hearts were never broken up — are everlasting things.
' Leighton : On 1 Peter iv. 1.
340 WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYEEFULNESS.
The drunkards who have left their cups, the gamblers who
have reformed, the thieves who have become honest men,
the liars who have ceased lying, the unchaste who have be-
come pure, and the profane who have forsaken their oaths,
are very greatly in the minority. Miserable indeed is that
soul which allows sin to strengthen and fortify itself by
constant exercise. Even if it is eventually overcome by the
grace of God, it will only be by resisting unto blood.
" Because," says an old divine, " the nature of habits is
like that of crocodiles ; they grow as long as they live ; and
if they come to obstinacy or confirmation, they are in hell
already, and can never return back. For as Pannonian
bears, when they have clasped a dart in the region of their
liver, wheel themselves upon the wound, and with anger
and malicious revenge strike the deadly barb deeper, and
cannot be quit from that fatal steel, but in flying bear
along that which themselves make the instrument of a
more hasty death, so is every vicious person struck with a
deadly wound, and his own hands force it into the enter-
tainments of the heart, and because it is painful to draw it
forth by a sharp and salutary repentance, he still rolls and
turns upon his wound, and carries his death in his bowels,
where it first entered by choice, and then dwelt by love,
and at last shall finish the tragedy by Divine judgments
and an unalterable decree." '
Inward sin, in an unwatchful and prayerless person,
inevitably acquires the habit of being moved by tempta-
tion. He falls gradually into such a state, that whenever an
object solicits his remaining corruption he yields uniformly,
and with little or no resistance. He who is in such a case
is on most dangerous ground. For says the apostle John,
" Whosoever sinneth hath not seen God, neither known
' Jeremy Taylor's Sermon, on Growth in Sin.
WATCHFULNESS AND PEAYERFULNESS. 341
him " — by which is meant, as the context shows, " Who-
soever sinneth hahitually hath not seen God, neither
known him." We may be surprised once into sin as Peter
was ; we may fall once into sin as David did ; and upon
weeping bitterly as did the first, and crying for mercy out
of a crushed heart as did the last, the atoning blood of
Christ shall cleanse our conscience again. But we cannot
self-indulgently sin on, and on, and commit the very same
wicked thing day after day, and feel that we are forgiven,
or hope to be forgiven.
The chances, if we may use such a word, are against the
conquest of habitual sins, because of the strong power
which they acquire over the voluntary faculty. The more
usual a sin becomes in a man's experience, the weaker the
will to resist it becomes ; and hence in the drunkard, for
example, habit, even in this life, has almost annihilated
will to good. Just so fast as the habit of intoxication
gains upon him, just so fast does he lose his power of self-
control. The one force is antagonistic to the other, and
one exists in inverse proportion to the other. The inebri-
ate gradually ceases to be his own man, and comes to belong
to the appetite for rum. This owns him, and uses him. It
starves him with hunger, and pinches him with cold, and
strips him of character, and deprives him of the common
human feelings, and does with him just as it pleases.
For a thoughtful observer, there is something strictly
awful in beholding the paralyzing and destructive power
which sin, when habitually indulged, acquires over the hu-
man will. The self -gratifying propensity, by being allowed
to develop itself unwatched and unhindered, slowly but
surely eats out all virtuous moral force as rust eats out a
steel spring, until the being in the terrible bitter end be-
comes all habit and all sin. " Sin when it is finished
bringeth forth death." (James i. 15.) In the final stage of
342 WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYERFULNESS.
this process, the guilty self -determining agent reaches that
dreadful state where resistance to evil ceases altogether,
because he has at length entirely killed out the energetic
and resolute power of resistance which God gave him, and
meant that he should use, and which if he had used would
have grown stronger and stronger, through Divine assist-
ance, until it reached the state of confirmed and eternal
holiness. The cravings and hankerings of unresisted sin at
length become organic, as it were, and drag the man, and
" he goeth after them as an ox goeth to the slaughter, or
as a fool to the correction of the stocks, till a dart strike
through his liver." For though the will to resist sin
may die out of a man, the conscience to condemn it never
can. This remains eternally. And when the process is
complete, and the responsible creature in the abuse of free
agency has perfected his own self-destruction, and his will
to good is all gone, there remain these two in his immortal
soul : sin and conscience, or, in the Scripture metaphor,
" brimstone and fire."
The " ruin " of an immortal soul is no mere figure of
speech. There is no ruin in the whole material universe
to be compared with it, for transcendent awfulness. The
decline and fall of the Roman Empire was a great catas-
trophe, and inspires a thoughtful and solemn feeling ; but
the decline and eternal fall of a moral being, originally
made in the image of God, is a stupendous event. When
it happens ; when the Apocalyptic angel descends, and
cries mightily with a strong voice saying, " Babylon the
great is fallen, is fallen ; " the kings of the earth, and the
merchants of the earth, " stand afar off to see the smoke of
her burning, and tremble for the fear of her torment."
This event, thus symbolically shadowed forth, is the final
result of sin in a self-determining will — the finished con-
sequence of permitting a sinful inclination to compact and
WATCHFITLlSrESS AND PRAYERFULNESS. 343
confirm itself by habitual indulgence, until it destroys the
power of resistance, and the being is hopelessly ruined and
lost.
We have thus mentioned and illustrated three reasons
derived from the intrinsic nature of sin, why Christians
should " watch unto prayer." Sin is spontaneous, and
therefore is able to move at any instant. Sin can be
solicited by temptation, and therefore is liable to move at
any instant. Sin can become habitual, and habit is a second
nature destroying the power of resistance. Much that has
been said applies to sin in its general aspects, as pertaining
to man universally ; but so far as this point is concerned
we must dismiss it with the single remark, that from the
very nature of sin and of the soul, except a man get rid of
sin, he must perish. Sin is the slow, and sure, and eternal
suicide of a human will.
But let us make an application of this subject to our-
selves, as imperfectly sanctified believers. We cannot
think of entering heaven with a mixture of sin in our
hearts. We must acknowledge that the relics of a very
profound and powerful sinful nature are still within us,
which interfere with our peace, keep us distant from God,
and are hostile to spirituality and a heavenly mind. How
do we expect that these remainders of corruption are to be
destroyed ; and how do we expect to obtain that holiness
without which no man shall see the Lord ? Do we fre-
quently raise these important questions ; and are we prop-
erly anxious to become pure and saintly ?
Perhaps we are in a careless state, and are indulging in
some particular sin with little or no compunction. If so,
we do well to remind ourselves that anxiety, and even dis-
tressing doubts, would be a more hopeful condition than
is this state of lethargic indulgence. For, " seest thou a
man wise in his own conceit ? there is more hope of a
344 WATCHFULNESS AND PRAYEKFULNESS.
fool than of him." And, seest thou a church member
habitually committing and enjoying a particular sin, and
carelessly deeming himself to be safe ? the angels looked
down upon him with more hope when he was an inquiring
and self-despairing man, than they ^o now.
But perhaps we do feel our sinfulness, and yet do not
make the effort that results in its conquest. Perhaps we
indulge in known sin, and experience a certain kind and
degree of sorrow regarding it, but do not cut off the right
hand, and do not pluck out the right eye. This moral
condition, also, is one of great danger. Christ, it is true,
does not " break the bruised reed." " He knoweth our
frame, he remembereth that we are dust, he is very pitiful
and of tender mercy." But we must not suppose that the
feeling of mere regret, with no active resistance, is all that
he demands from us. We must not lay the flattering
unction to our souls, that God commiserates our indolence
and ineffectual efforts. These efforts are ineffectual, be-
cause we are not sufficiently in earnest, and are unfaithful
in seeking Divine help. We restrain prayer. We let down
our watch. We must not deceive ourselves into the belief
that God indulgently pities our unfortunate condition, as
we may call it in our hearts. Sin is guilt. All sin is
guilt. Christ poured out his blood to atone for it — all of
it — and we must resist unto blood in order to overcome it
— all of it. The path of duty and safety is plain. All
will be well, if we watch more than we have, lest we fall
into temptation ; if we pray more than we have, for power
over sin. Vigilance and supplication must pervade our
whole life as believers. The Christian must stand constantly
braced, and expecting to meet a foe at every step. Every
nerve should be tense, and every muscle tight drawn. And
this, with an eye ever looking "up to the hills from
whence cometh his help," should be his attitude through
WATCHFULNESS AND PEAYEEFULNESS. 345
life. True, it will be a life of sweat, and toil, and some-
times of aching pain ; but there will be some lulls in the
fight, and some ely slums in the pilgrimage, and the ever-
lasting rest will be all the sweeter for the unceasing effort.
That is a blessed moment for the Christian, when after his
long watch, and weary conflict, and fatiguing strain, he is
suddenly called into that walled city, " at once a fortress,
and a temple," over whose safety God watches ; where he
can lie down beside the peaceful river of the water of life
without any solicitude, and where the grapple and tug of
spiritual warfare are over for eternity.
" Watch and pray lest ye enter into temptation. Watch
therefore : for ye know neither the daj'- nor the hour,
wherein the Son of man cometh. Blessed," says the
Saviour — and this word has a world of meaning coming
from his Divine lips — " blessed are those servants whom
the Lord when he cometh shall find watching."
15*
SEEMON XXni.
UNCEASING PRAYER.
1 Thessaloniaks v. 17. — "Pray without ceasing."
The apostle Paul, in enjoining the duty of unceasing
prayer upon all Christians, does not bind upon them a
heavy burden which he himself will not move with one of
his fingers. He does not regard it as a burden but a
privilege, and he presents them an actual example of con-
tinual supplication to a faithful and prayer-hearing God,
in this world of temptation and this valley of tears. He
tells the Roman brethren, that " God is his witness, whom
he serves with his spirit, in the gospel of his Son, that
without ceasing he makes mention of them always in his
prayers." To the Thessalonian church he says : " We give
thanks to God always for you all, making mention of you
in our prayers, remembering without ceasing your work of
faith, and labor of love, and patience of hope." And in
another paragraph of this same Epistle, he assures them
that he " thanks God without ceasing, because when they
received the word of God, which they heard first from
him, they received it not as the word of men but of God."
To his dearly beloved pupil Timothy, he writes : " I thank
God, whom I serve from my forefathers with pure con-
science, that without ceasing I have remembrance of thee
in my prayers day and night."
UNCEASING PRAYER. 347
A man who could bear such testimony respecting him-
self, in the matter of prayer, surely can speak out in bold
and stimulating tones to all Christians, as he does in the
text : " Pray without ceasing." He has done so himself.
He knows the preciousness of the privilege. He has
" tasted and seen that the Lord is good. In the day when
he cried, God answered him, and strengthened him with
strength in his soul."
The subject of Prayer, which is suggested by the text,
is a comprehensive one. The theme is fertile. Perhaps
no topic has engrossed more of the thought of wise and
good men, than the communion which the soul of man
is permitted to hold with its Maker. We purpose to
consider two aspects of the general subject : First, that
prayer must be incessant from its very nature ; and, second-
ly, that unceasing prayer is feasible.
I. Observe, in the first place, that prayer must be un-
ceasing, from the nature of the act. Prayer is intercourse
with God, and God is the being in whom the creature lives
and moves. To stop praying, therefore, is to break the
connection that is established between the feeble and de-
pendent worm of the dust, and the almighty One. "We
perceive immediately that a man must breathe without
ceasing, because by the function of breathing his lungs,
and thereby his whole physical system, are kept in right
relation and connection with the atmosphere. His body
lives, moves, and has its being, in atmospheric air, and
therefore the instant the process of inspiration and ex-
piration is stopped, it is cut off from the source of physical
vitality and dies. For this reason, if a man breathe at all,
he must breathe all the while. From the very nature of
breath, we infer the necessity of constant breathing.
We are too apt to forget that such comparisons as these,
instead of losing their force when applied to religious and
348 UNCEASING PRAYER.
spiritual subjects, are truer than ever. When I say to you,
that a man's body lives, moves, and has its existence in
atmospheric air, and that it must swim in it as a fish swims
in the sea, in order to live and breathe, you take me liter-
ally. You believe and are certain, that continual com-
munication must be kept up between the human lungs and
tlie outward air, in order to human life. But when the
apostle Paul tells you, as he did the philosophers of Athens,
that the human soul lives, moves, and has its being in God,
why are you, and why are all men so much inclined to take
him figuratively, and to put such an interpretation upon
the language as shears it of its full and literal force ? It is
as strictly true that the religious being and the eternal
wants of the soul depend upon communication with God,
and will suffer and die without it, as that the physical
nature and needs of the body depend upon communication
with the vital air, and will suffocate without it. Each state-
ment is literally true within its own sphere, and with ref-
erence to the specific things to which it refers.
But it may be objected that if such is the fact, why is it
that mankind do not invariably and constantly suffer dis-
tress, when this communion with God ceases to take place ?
Why are not prayerless men in unceasing anguish of mind ?
If the human body is removed from the free open air of
heaven, and shut up in the Black Hole of Calcutta, the re-
port comes instantaneously from the entire physical organ-
ization, that the established relation between the fieshly
nature and the material world has been interfered with.
The lungs begin to heave and pant, the perspiration oozes
out of every pore, the face is fiushed with crimson, and
the eyes glare and stare in their sockets. But the human
soul exists from day to day without intercourse with its
Creator, and yet we perceive no indications of mental dis-
tress. The worldling puts up no prayer, and is out of all
UNCEASING PEAYER. 349
communication with God ; but we do not see in his mental
experience any signs or tokens of spiritual agony, corre-
sponding to those which we have mentioned in the in-
stance of physical suffocation. This worldling, in the
Scripture phrase, is " without God in the world," and yet
for aught that appears he is enjoying existence, and would
be willing to live on in this style indefinitely. Ask
this carnally minded man, if he would take a lease of
prayerless, godless life for one hundred years, and he
answers, Yea. How does this tally with the doctrine that
the human soul needs intercourse with God, with as press-
ing and indispensable a necessity as the lungs need air ?
To this we reply, that as man is composed of two
natures, so he is capable of living two lives. By his body
he is connected with earth and time ; by his soul he is
connected with God and eternity. He is capable there-
fore, and it is his original destination, to be associated with
both of these worlds at one and the same time, in a just
and proper manner, cherishing a pure, and temperate, and
happy life in the body, and a holy and blessed life in the
soul. This would have been his condition had he not
apostatized ; and in this case his double and complex being
would have been thoroughly alive, in all its parts. There
would have been no death of any kind in him, and no
death could have assailed him.
But for the very reason that he possesses two natures,
and can live two lives, it is possible for him to gratify the
desires of only one nature, and to lead only one life, here
upon earth. It is possible in this state of existence, for
the flesh to live on and enjoy itself, while the spirit is
dead in trespasses in sins. It is possible for three-score
years and ten, for a man to put himself in absorbing com-
munion with earth and time, and to cut himself loose from
all intercourse with God and heaven, and yet not be in
350 UNCEASING PRAYER.
mental distress, for the reason that the lower nature is
living on and enjoying itself. One life temporarily takes
the place of the other, and thus it is that a human crea-
ture, here upon earth, can pamper his body while he
starves his soul; can live in worldly pleasure, while the
nobler part of him is out of all connection with its appro-
priate objects.
There is a class of animals that are amphibious. They
are capable of living both in the sea and upon the land.
They are related by theu* physical structure both to the
air and the water. If therefore the beaver, for example,
is for a season debarred from the river, he can exist upon
the shore ; or if he is temporarily driven from the shore,
he can live in the river. These amphibious creatures can
dispense with communication with one of the worlds with
which they are constitutionally connected, because they
have communication with the other one. So is it with
man here in time. If he can absorb his lower nature in
the objects and pursuits of sense, he is able to dispense
with intercourse between God and his higher nature, with-
out distress. If the amphibious animal can breathe upon
the land, he need not gasp and pant upon the land, like
the fish when taken from his native element.
But while this is so, it is none the less true, that the
soul of man is the principal part of him, and that there-
fore he c&nnot ^ermcmetitly escape distress, if out of com-
munication with God and heaven. This half-way life, of
which we have spoken, is not possible in eternity. No
man can live happily in sense and sin forever and ever.
These amphibious animals, to which we have alluded,
cannot dwell year after year in only one element. This
half-way life of theirs is possible only for a short time.
The whale can exist for a while in the unfathomed depths
to which the harpoon has driven him, but he must
UNCEASING PEAYEE. 351
sooner or later come to the surface to blow. The beaver
cannot, like the fish, remain permanently in the watery
element to which he has fled from his pursuer. Each
nature asserts its rights ultimately, and if its wants are
not met ultimately, suffocation and agony are the con-
sequence.
And so it is with man's double nature, and the two
worlds to which they are related. For a few short years,
man can live a half-way life without great inconvenience
or distress. For three-score years and ten, he can restrain
prayer and stifle the soul, and not feel misery, because the
body is thriving and happy. But he cannot live in this
way in only one of his natures, and that the lowest and
meanest, forever and ever. He must at some time or other
come to the surface for breath. The wants of the im-
mortal spirit must ultimately make themselves felt, and
no gratification of the bodily desires can then be a sub-
stitute.
It is in this manner, that we prove that the soul of man
needs God in the same organic, and constitutional way,
that his body needs air. It will not do to judge of the
primitive and everlasting necessities of a rational being, by
looking at his pleasures and pains in this brief and transi-
tory mode of existence. We must take him into eternity,
in order to know whether he can suffocate his soul and be
happy, while he gives only his body light and air. We
must look at him beyond the tomb, if we would know
whether he can be blessed while he is alive to sin, and
dead to righteousness. We must remove him altogether
from earth, to see whether he can live in only one of his
natures and that the lowest of them.
Returning now to the subject of prayer, we see, after
this brief discussion of the true relation that exists between
the soul of man and the Everlasting God, that prayer is
352 UNCEASING PRAYER.
its vital breath, and that therefore it must be unceasing
from its very nature. We cannot appeal to the experience
of a prayerless person upon the point, because he has
none ; but we appeal confidently to the consciousness of
a Christian, and ask him whether a complete and final
cessation of prayer, in his own case, would not work the
same disastrous consequences in his mental condition, that
the stoppage of breath would in his physical. Suppose
that a cloud should overshadow you, and a voice should
come out of the cloud, saying : " Pray no more ; the ear
of God is heavy and cannot hear ; " suppose, in other
words, that that calming, sustaining, strengthening, and
comforting intercourse which your spirit has been per-
mitted to enjoy with God, in the time that is past, were
absolutely foreclosed and shut off. Would not your soul
begin to gasp and struggle, precisely as your body does
when the atmospheric air is expelled, or vitiated by a
deadly gas ? Blessed be the mercy of God, we have never
been put to the trial, and therefore can only conjecture
what our mental distress would be, if we were absolutely
precluded from prayer and supplication. What a sinking
sensation would fill the heart of a mourning believer, if,
at the very moment when death had come into his house-
hold, and cut down a life to save which he would gladly
have given up his own, he should find it impossible to
pray ; if he should discover that the heavens above him
were brass, and the earth beneath him was iron, and that
no cry from his wailing, sorrowing spirit could ever pierce
the heavens again. What an agony would swell the soul
of a convicted sinner, if, at the very instant when the
moral law was coming in upon him, and the convictions of
guilt and the fears of judgment were rising and surging
within him like waves lashed by the storm, he could not
cry out : " God be merciful to me a sinner," because there
UNCEASING PRAYER. 353
was no longer any intercourse between the creature and
the Creator. Man has become so accustomed to this bless-
ing and privilege, that he does not know the full meaning
and richness of it. Like other gifts of God, nothing but
the complete and absolute deprivation of it would enable
him to apprehend the infinity of the good which is granted
to a feeble, helpless creature, in permitting him to enjoy
the society and intercourse of the great and glorious
Creator.
A second and further proof that prayer is unceasing in
its nature is found in the fact, that God is continually the
hearer of prayer. An incessant appeal supposes an in-
cessant reply. God does not hear his people to-day, and
turn a deaf ear to them to-morrow. He who prays to God
without ceasing, finds that God hears without ceasing.
Such is the declaration of God himself, upon this point.
When Solomon had erected the temple, and had dedicated
it as a house of prayer, the Most High, so to speak,
localized Himself in it, and promised to give continual
audience to all sincere worshippers and suppliants there.
" The Lord appeared to Solomon by night, and said
unto him, I have chosen this place to myself for an house
of sacrifice. Now mine eyes shall be open, and mine
ears attent unto the prayer that is made in this place.
For now have I chosen and sanctified this house, that
my name may be there forever^ and mine eyes and mine
heart shall be there jperpetually T (2 Chron. viii. 12-16.)
Had there been from that time to this an unceasing
volume of sincere supplication ascending unto God with-
in that temple, there would have been an unceasing
audience upon the part of God within that temple from
that time to this. Jehovah is faithful to his promise,
and had the Jewish nation been faithful to the covenant
which God made with Abraham ; had they continued to
354 UNCEASING PEAYER.
observe the statutes and cominandments of the Lord, and
to worship in his temple in the beauty of holiness down to
the present time ; they would in that very temple, down
to this very moment, have found that God is immutably
the hearer of prayer. There is not, now, one stone left
upon another, of that magnificent structure which Solomon
built for the honor of Jehovah, and the Jewish nation
are scattered to the four winds of heaven ; but this does
not disprove the Divine faithfulness in the least. If there
is no prayer, there can of course be no answer to prayer.
If the creature ceases to pray, God of necessity ceases to
hear. If the worshipper ceases to go into the temple,
God, of course, goes out of it. But so long as the Jew, or
the Gentile, pours out his soul in supplication, he will find
that God is the constant hearer of supplication, and that
he changeth not. And had that chosen and highly favored
people continued to pray like Moses, and Samuel, and
David, and Nehemiah ; had they remained true to the teach-
ings of the Law and the Prophets ; had they known the
day of their visitation from the Most High, when the
promised Messiah, the Incarnate God, came down among
them ; had they welcomed the Redeemer, and found in the
gospel of the New Testament only the blossom and bright
consummate flower of the religion of their fathers ; their
temple would be still standing, and prayer would still be
offered in it as of old. They would have been preserved
a chosen generation and a royal priesthood, down to the
present time. Jehovah himself would have kept them as
the apple of the eye, amidst all the mutations and down-
fall of empires. The stars in their courses would have
fought for them. Persia, Macedon, Rome, and all other
kingdoms, might have gone to ruin, but Israel would have
stood, to show that the Lord is upright, that he is a rock,
and that there is no unfaithfulness in him.
UNCEASING PEAYEE. 355
It is this trutli that enables us to interpret rightly those
positive and unqualified declarations in the Old Testament,
concerning the everlasting continuance of the Jewish Church
and State. Consider the following, which is a part of the
message that Nathan the prophet was commissioned to
deliver to David the King : " Thus shalt thou say unto
my servant David, thus saith the Lord of Hosts, 1 took
thee from the sheepcote, even from following the sheep,
that thou shouldest be ruler over my people Israel ; and 1
have been with thee whithersoever thou hast walked, and
have cut off all thine enemies from before thee, and have
made thee a name like the name of the great men that are
in the earth. Also I will ordain a place for my people
Israel, and will plant them, and they shall dwell in their
place, and shall be moved no more : neither shall the
children of wickedness waste them any more as at the
beginning. And it shall come to pass when thy day shall
be expired, that thou must go to be with thy fathers, that
I will raise up thy seed after thee which shall be of thy
sons ; and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build
me an house, and I will establish his throne forever. 1 will
settle him in mine house, and in my 'kingdom, forever : and
his throne shall be established forevermore.^^ (1 Chron. xvii.
7-14.) The primary reference in all this is to the spiritual
kingdom of the Messiah, who was to be born in the line of
David and Solomon, and the prophecy in this particular
is in the process of fulfilment, and will be fulfilled. But
there is also a secondary promise of a temporal kingdom,
and a continuance of the Jewish people in power and honor
to the end of time. And had they been faithful to the
covenant with their fathers, every jot and tittle of this
positive and unqualified promise of perpetual earthly pros-
perity would have been performed. The spirit of prayer,
had it inspired the heart of the Hebrew nation down to
356 UNCEASING PEAYEK.
the present time, as it inspired Moses, Samuel, Daniel, and
Nehemiah, M^ould have met with a continual answer from
Him who sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and who has
revealed Himself as the hearer of prayer. That answer
would have related to the temporal as well as the eternal
welfare of the covenant-keeping people — for godliness
has the promise of the life that now is, as well as of the
life that is to come — and whatever changes might have oc-
curred in other nations of the earth, Israel would have
remained a standing monument of the Divine power and
faithfulness, and Jerusalem would still have been the city
of the Great King. Nay, in this case, the whole history
of the world would have been altered. Jerusalem upon
earth, like the Jerusalem which is above, would then have
been the " mother of us all." The worship of the true
God, and of Jesus Christ his Son, would have overcome
the idolatry of the secular monarchies and emperors, and
the world would have been evangelized many centuries
since.
And what is true of a people is true of an individual.
The believer who prays without ceasing finds that God
hears without ceasing. In his own experience, he dis-
covers that the Divine ear is constantly attent to the voice
of his supplication. The faintest desire meets a response.
The Being with whom he seeks intercourse stands per-
petually waiting. The immutability of God is demon-
strated to him in the fact, that go whenever he will to the
throne of grace he finds a listening ear, and an outstretched
hand. " The young lions do lack, and suffer hunger ; but
they that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing.
The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears
are open unto their cry." God as the Creator has estab-
lished such a relation between the body of man and the
vital air, that there must be a continual supply of air ; and
UNCEASING PRAYER. 357
therefore he has encompassed him with a whole atmos-
phere which is surrounding him upon all sides, and press-
ing upon him at every point. The instant he inhales with
his lungs, he finds the invigorating element ready for him.
And God as the Saviour has established such a relation
between the renewed soul and himself, that there must be
an unceasing intercommunion ; and therefore, in the gospel
of his Son, he proffers himself to his redeemed creature,
and whenever the heart pants out its desire, it finds its
ever-present supply. The unceasing prayer is met by the
unceasing answer.
II. We pass now, in the second place, to inquire into
\hQ feasibility of unceasing prayer. How is a man to pray
without ceasing ?
Before proceeding to the immediate answer to this in-
quiry, it is obvious to remark, that the fact that prayer is
the only mode by which the creature here upon earth can
hold intercourse with his Maker, goes to prove that such
an intercourse must be practicable. It must be a possible
thing for man to enter into communication with God.
It cannot be, that the great and wise Creator has called a
finite and dependent creature into existence, and cut him
off from all access to Himself. So far as God is con-
cerned ; so far as the original arrangements in and by
creation are concerned ; it must not only be possible, but
a duty for the human soul not only to converse with God,
but to hold an uninterrupted converse with him. We
can no more suppose that our Creator would have
made a rational and immortal spirit in his own image and
likeness, without any power and privilege of communing
with his Maker, than that he would have created a pair of
lungs without any atmosphere in which they could ex-
pand. One of the most profound and spiritual divines,
of one of the most thoughtful and spiritual periods in the
358 UNCEASING PRAYER.
history of the Church — we mean John Howe — has written
at length upon what he denominates the " conversable-
ness " of God ; namely, those characteristics in the Deity
that incline him to hear prayer, to listen to praise and
adoration, and to receive from the whole rational universe
the homage which is due to his infinite and glorious nature
and name.' He shows conclusively that the Creator, from
his very constitutional qualities, delights to put himself in
communication with his rational creation ; that he does
not shut himself up in the isolation of his trinity, and his
eternity, and enjoy his own absolute self-sufficiency, but
overflows, with the fulness of his being, into the craving
and recipient natures of angels and men. This he does,
not because he is dependent upon his creatures for his
own enjoyment, but simply that he may make them holy
and happy. • St. Paul taught this to the philosophers of
Athens. " God that made the world, and all things
therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth,
dwelleth not in temples made with hands ; neither is
worshipped with men's hands, as though he needed any-
thing, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all
things. And hath made of our blood all nations of the
earth, for to dwell on all the face of the earth ; and hath
determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of
their habitation ; that they should seeh the Lord, if haply
they might feel after him and find him, though he be not
far from any one of us : for in him we live, and move,
and have our being." (Acts xvii. 24-28.) This "con-
versableness ; " this benevolent and condescending willing-
ness to hold intercourse with a race of finite creatures who
cannot by any possibility do anything to benefit God, and
add either to his happiness or his power, and who can-
• Howe : Living Temple, Ch. VI.
UNCEASING PRAYER. 369
not by any possibility make themselves profitable to the
Most High ; this spontaneous and generous readiness to
give to the creature everything beneficial, and receive from
the creature nothing that is beneficial in return, is shown
by this most excellent thinker to be the very nature and
character of the Infinite and Eternal Godhead.
This being so, it follows of course, that so far as God is
concerned, and so far as all his arrangements in the original
constitution and character of man are concerned, prayer is
not only feasible, but feasible in the highest degree. If the
intercourse is broken off, it cannot be by any action upon
the part of God. If man finds it difficult or impossible to
pray, and to pray without ceasing, it must be owing to some
change that has taken place in his own nature and inclina-
tion. God is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. He
is just as conversable, just as friendly, and just as ready to
give out everything while he receives nothing in recom-
pense, as he ever was. It is apostasy and sin, alone, that
have stopped the intercourse between man and his Maker ;
and apostasy and sin are man's work and agency.
1. Taking up, then, the question. How is a man to pray
without ceasing ? it is obvious, in the first place, that he
must have an inclination to pray. Constant supplication
implies a habit of the mind and heart, and this implies a
steady disposition to hold intercourse with God. We do not
suppose it to be possible to perform any act, and especially
any religious act, continually and unceasingly, by the mere
exercise of volitions without any inclination. A man does
not follow even an earthly calling, day after day, and with-
out interruption through his whole life, unless his heart is
in the work. How long, think you, would the merchant
continue to prosecute a line of business which he utterly
disliked, and to which he must force himself by a voilent
resolution every time that he engaged in it? Nothing is
360 UNCEASING PRAYER.
done in this world for any great length of time, that is not
done spontaneously, easily, and from a settled inclination.
The distinction between a man's volitions and his in-
clination is very great and important, and many errors
both in the theory and practice of religion arise from over-
looking it. They differ from each other, as the stream
differs from the fountain ; as the rays of the sun differ
from the solid orb itself ; as the branches differ from the
root of the tree. A man's volitions, or resolutions, spring
out of his disposition, or inclination, and in the long run
do not go counter to it. The stream cannot be sweet, if
the fountain be bitter ; and a man's resolutions cannot be
holy, if his heart or inclination is sinful. The stream can-
not change the character of the source from which it flows,
and neither can a man's volitions alter the natural disposi-
tion from which they all issue, and of which they are the
executive and index.
Our Lord directs attention to the difference between an
inclination and a volition, when he says : " Out of the
heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, thefts,
and such like ; a good man out of the good treasure of his
heart bringeth forth that which is good, and an evil man
out of the evil treasure of his heart bringeth forth that
which is evil." Here he represents the particular act of
murder or theft, which is performed by a particular res-
olution or decision of the man's will, as issuing out of a
deep central disposition of his will lying back of it. If
there be no murderous inclination, then no single act of
murder can be committed. So long as there is nothing
but a " good treasure of the heart," full of love to God and
man, no single wrong act can be done ; and so long as
there is nothing but an " evil treasure of the heart," full of
selfishness, and enmity towards God and man, no single
right act can be performed. "A good tree," says our Lord,
UNCEASIJ^G PRAYEE. 361
" cannot bring forth evil f riiit ; neither can a corrupt tree
bring forth good fruit." The inclination determines all
the particular volitions and choices ; and hence Christ
teaches his disciples, and all mankind, that the change
from sin to holiness must begin at the centre and source
of all individual transgressions — must begin, not by mak-
ing a resolution, but by receiving a new inclination from
God the Spirit. " Either make the tree good, and his fruit
good ; or else make the tree corrupt, and his fruit corrupt."
As if he had said : " It is vain and futile to attempt to
produce a moral change, by altering the volitions of the
will ; the inclination of the will, out which these all spring
and by which they are all determined, must be entirely
converted and reversed."
And among the many reasons that might be assigned
for this, is the fact that there can be no steady and unceas-
ing action in religion, unless there be an inclination. And
here we are brought back again to our subject, and see
the bearings upon it of this brief discussion of the dif-
ference between an inclination and a volition. We are
asking how a man can pray without ceasing. We desire
to know, in what method he can keep up a continual in-
tercourse with God. It is plain that if there is no founda-
tion for it in the tendency of his mind, and the disposition
of his heart, such an incessant prayerf ulness as we have
been speaking of — a praying that is as uniform and un-
broken as breathing itself — cannot be maintained. Sup-
pose an entire destitution of the inclination to draw near
to God, and then ask yourself the question : " Can I pray
without ceasing, by lashing myself up to the unwelcome
service ; by sternly forcing my will up to the disagreeable
work, by dint of resolutions and volitions ? " Even sup-
posing that the prayer, so far as its quality is concerned,
could be made acceptable upon this method ; even suppos-
16
362 UNCEASING PRAYER.
ing that God would listen to a prayer in which there was
no spontaneous inclining of the heart and affections ; could
the prayer become an unceasing one by this method ?
"Would not the man grow inexpressibly weary, and soon
end the useless effort ?
We lay it down, therefore, with all confidence, that
nothing but a praying disposition of the heart can enable
any one to obey the apostle's injunction to pray without
ceasing. And if this do exist, supplication will be con-
stant and uniform. If it be true that an evil tree cannot
bring forth good fruit, it is equally true that a good tree
cannot hut bring forth good fruit. Can you prevent a
living, thriving tree from putting forth its buds and blos-
soms in the spring ? You may employ all the mechanical
appliances within the reach of human power, and in spite
of them all the sap will rise in the tubes, and run out to
the rim of every leaf, and the bud will swell, and the blos-
som will put forth, and the fruit will mature, because it is
the nature of a good tree so to do. And this process
will be repeated year after year ; the tree will bud, blossom,
and fructuate " without ceasing ; " because there is a foun-
dation laid for all this in the root and heart of the tree.
In like manner, if the human soul craves intercourse with
God ; if it is inclined and drawn towards him as its best
friend, its support at all times, and its eternal portion ; no
power in heaven or eartli can prevent it from approaching
nigh to him. Nothing can separate between a praying
heart, and tlie Hearer of prayer. Neither death, nor life,
nor principalities, nor powei'S ; neither lieight, nor depth,
nor things present, nor things to come ; are able to pre-
clude and shut off the intercourse between such a soul and
its Maker. This has been the strength and joy of God's
people in all time. They have been shut up in dungeons,
like Paul and Silas at Philippi ; but they have found God
UNCEASING PKAYEE. 363
nearer than ever to them. They have been plunged into
earthly trial and sorrow ; but this only caused them to take
yet greater delight in prayer. They have drawn near to
death, and have gone down to the grave ; but the ear of
their Maker and Hedeemer was open and sensitive to their
cry. And therefore the people of God pray on, pray ever,
and pray without ceasing.
2. But this inclination to prayer may be strengthened
by cultivation, and the use of means ; and it is to this
second part of the answer to the question that we direct
attention.
It is of great importance to understand the appointed
connection between an implanted principle in the heart,
and the use of means, and to act accordingly. Because
religion is the product of the Holy Spirit within our souls,
and consists in a new inclination or disposition, it does not
follow that we may neglect those instrumentalities that
are adapted to strengthen and develop it. It is indeed
true that no human power can originate the principle of
spiritual life in the natural man, but after it has been orig-
inated by the Spirit of God, it can be cherished and
nourished by human faculties aided by divine grace. The
flower that hangs in the sunlight in your window contains
a mysterious principle of vegetable life which you could no
more originate, or call into being, than you could create the
planet Saturn. But having been originated by the Maker
of all things, you can then supply it with the earth and mois-
ture which its roots require, with the light and heat which
its leaves drink in, and can protect it from the frost and
the insect, and make it a thing of beauty and of joy in
your dwelling. Should this ministry of yours be with-
drawn ; should you cease to apply to the mysterious germ
and principle of vegetable life which dwells in the rose or
camellia the appropriate nutriment, it would wane away
364 UNCEASING PRAYER.
and finally die out. It would indeed continue for a little
while to show its wonderful vitality, by endeavoring to
endure the drought, or the sterility, or the darkness, which
your neglect had thrust upon it. But there would be a
limit to its power of endurance, and that beautiful life
which neither you nor the highest angel could summon
into being would eventually be quenched in death, by your
carelessness.
Precisely so is it with the life of God in the soul of man.
The new heart, the obedient disposition, the heavenly affec-
tion, the praying inclination — all that is included in that
principle of spiritual vitality which is originated in there-
generation — will wane away, without the use of the ap-
pointed means of growth in grace. And if we should
suppose a final and total cessation of Christian culture in a
given instance ; if we could suppose as an actual fact that
a renewed person forever ceases to pray, forever ceases
to meditate upon the truth of God, forever ceases to dis-
charge any of the duties of a Christian profession ; then we
might suppose a final and total cessation of the Christian
life within him.
All this applies with force to our subject. The founda-
tion for intercourse with God, which has been laid in re-
generation, must be built upon. The disposition to draw
nigh to God, which has been wrought in the believer's
heart, must be strengthened by cultivation and the use of
means. We briefly notice two of them.
In the first place, the Christian deepens and strengthens
his inclination to pray, by 7'egularity in the jpi'actice of
prayer. The Psalmist says : " As for me I will call upon
God ; evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and
cry aloud." When Darius the king had made it a capital
offence to offer any petition to any god or man save him-
self, Daniel " went into his house, and his windows being
UNCEASING PRAYEK. 365
open in his chamber toward Jerusalem, he kneeled upon
his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks
before his God, as he did afore time." These holy men
observed stated times and seasons of prayer. Man is a
creature of habit and routine, and therefore whatever he
leaves to the chances of time, place, and opportunity, is
very certain to be either ill- performed or neglected alto-
gether. He who has no particular time for winding up
his watch will find it very often run down. The man of
business who should select no particular hours for his
transactions, but should attempt to conduct them at any
time in the day or the night, would discover that the
world does not agree with him. It is here, that we per-
ceive the fallacy of those who would abolish the Sabbath
as a day of special religious worship, upon the specious
plea that every day ought to be a Sabbath, because the
whole of human life should be consecrated to God. What
would be thought of a banking institution that should
adopt this theory ; that should announce to the public, that
inasmuch as it was their desire to accumulate wealth un-
ceasingly, at one time as much as at another, therefore
they should set no particular time for banking, but leave
the transaction of business to their own convenience, and
that of their customers ? In the secular world, he will ac-
complish the most who does not allow his affairs to drag
their slow length along through all the hours of the day,
subject to accident and caprice, but concentrates them in
definite portions of time. And in the religious world, he
will make swiftest progress in the divine life who observes
times and seasons ; upon the principle of the wise man,
that there is a time for everything — a time to weep, and
a time to laugh ; a time for religious duties, and a time
for secularities. That man, therefore, will be most likely
to make every day a holy day, who makes every seventh
366 UNCEASING PRAYER.
day a Sabbath day, as he is commanded to do. And that
Christian will be most likely to pray without ceasing, and
to breathe through his whole daily walk and conversation
the blessed and elevated spirit of heaven, who at certain
particular times, like David and Daniel, enters his closet
and shuts the door, and prays to his Father who seeth in
secret.
Intimately connected with this, in the second place, is
the practice of ejaculatory prayer. This also tends to
deepen and strengthen the believer's inclination to draw
nigh to God. Prayer does not depend so much upon its
length, as its intensity and importunity ; and hence a few
moments of real absorbing address to God, in the midst of
worldly avocations, and particularly in the midst of sharp
temptations, will accomplish wonders in the way of arm-
ing the Christian with spiritual power. Sometimes in a
single moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the eye of the
believer catches the eye of his Saviour, and glances are
exchanged, and the Divine grace flows down in a rill into
his heart. It is this direct vision of God, and this direct
instantaneous appeal to him, which renders the brief
broken ejaculations of the martyr so supporting, and so
triumphant over flesh and blood, over malice and torture.
There is a power in prayer that is beyond any other power.
Heading and meditation are invaluable in their own time
and place, but they cannot be a substitute for supplication.
The martyr might reflect never so profoundly, and long,
upon the omnipotence and wisdom of God, and still be
unable to endure the flame and the rack. But the single
prayer : " Lord Jesus receive my spirit," lifts him high
above the region of agony, and irradiates his countenance
with the light of angelic faces.
The church of the present day, and particularly those
churches in whose membership the reserved English nature
UNCEASING PRAYER. 367
prevails, are shorn of much power by an undue suppres-
sion of their religious feeling. " My li^s shall utter praise ;
my lips shall greatly rejoice when I sing unto thee ; O
Lord open thou my Ivps, and my mouth shall show forth
thy praise." Such is the determination, and such the de-
sire of the Psalmist. How frequently does he call upon
his tongue, which he denominates the " glory " of his
frame, to awake and give utterance to prayer and praise.
"Awake up, my glory ; awake psaltery and harp." In
this, the Psalmist has been followed by the great and
devout men who have been called, in the providence of
God, to " stand in the gap, and fill up the hedge," in times
of great moment to the church. Martin Luther was noted
for the urgency and frequency of his prayers, and particu-
larly of his ejaculatory petitions. So easy and natural,
nay, so irrepressible was it for him to cry out to God, that
even in company with friends, and in the midst of social
intercourse, he would break forth into ejaculations. This
was often the case in times of trouble to the cause of the
Reformation. God was then constantly present to his
anxious and strongly exercised soul, and he pleaded with
him as a man pleads with his friend.
And this power is within the reach of every believer.
In the house and by the way, in the crowd or in soli-
tude, the Christian may whisper in the ear of the Almighty.
How marvellous it is that at any instant, and though sur-
rounded by hundreds of his fellow-creatures, a child of
God may carry on the most private and secret transaction
with his Father who seeth in secret. Standing in the
market-place, and hearing the busy hum of men all around
him, the Christian can nevertheless hold communication
with that Being who is sovereign over all, and take hold of
that hand which moves the world. What a privilege is
this, did we prize it and use it as we ought. We are not
368 UNCEASING PRAYER.
compelled to go to some central point, some Jerusalem
or Mecca, to hold intercourse with heaven. " The hour
Cometh, and now is," says our Lord, " when ye shall
neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship
the Father. The hour cometh, and now is when the true
worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in
truth. God is a Spirit." In any section of space, and at
any point of time, the ejaculation of the soul may reach the
Eternal Mind, and be rewarded by the Hearer of prayer.'
This discussion strongly urges upon the Christian, the
sedulous cultivation of the spirit of prayer. If he be in-
deed a Christian, a renewed man, he has already received
this spirit. It is not to be originated ; but it is to be nur-
tured and developed. Culture is the great work before
are generate person. That holy thing which has been
wrought within his heart by the renewing grace of God
is now made over to him, to take care of and cherish by
God's assisting grace. Cultivate therefore the spirit of
prayer and supplication, by uniformity and regularity in
private devotions, and by frequent ejaculations to God.
Do not be afraid of system and particularity, in this mat-
ter of learning to pray. Thei-e is little danger of undue
' "Ejaculations," says Thomas Fuller, " take not up any room in the
soul. They give liberty of callings, so that at the same instant one
may follow his proper vocation. The husbandman may dart forth an
ejaculation, and not make a balk the more ; the seaman never the less
steer his ship right in the darkest night. Yea, the soldier at the same
time may shoot out his prayer to God, and aim his pistol at his enemy,
the one better hitting the mark for the other. The field vrherein bees
feed is no whit the barer for their biting ; when they have taken their
full repast on flowers or grass, the ox may feed, the sheep fat on their
reversions. The reason is, because those little chemists distil only the
refined part of the flower, leaving only the grosser substance thereof.
So ejaculations bind not men to any bodily observance, only busy the
spiritual half, which maketh them consistent with the prosecution of
any other employment."
UNCEASING PRAYER. 369
formality, in our free Protestant methods. The whole
Protestant world might learn something from the Papist,
and even from the Mohammedan, in respect to the faith-
ful observance of set times and seasons of prayer. More
of conscientious attention to the offices of private and pub-
lic devotion, in our churches, would beyond all question
deepen and strengthen their piety. And were the closet
more regularly entered, the habit of ejaculatory prayer
more common, the private worship in the family and the
public worship in the sanctuary more uniformly rendered,
the spirit of supplication, and the inclination to pray,
would be developed in a manner that would surprise and
bless the impenitent world.
After the death of that remarkable English writer. Sir
Thomas Browne, the following resolutions were found in
one of his common-place books ; and we here cite them, as a
specimen of the piety of that seventeenth century which
has left the world such a rich legacy of profound and devout
literature, and as an example for a Christian man in all
time. This thoughtful and God-fearing person resolves :
"To be sure that no day pass, without -calling upon God
in a solemn prayer, seven times within the compass thereof ;
that is, in the morning, and at night, and five times be-
tween ; taken up long ago from the example of David and
Daniel, and a compunction and shame that I had omitted
it so long, when I heedfully read of the custom of the
Mahometans to pray five times in the day. To pray and
magnify God in the night, and my dark bed, when I could
not sleep : to have short ejaculations whenever I awaked.
To pray in all places where privacy inviteth ; in anj'^ house,
highway or street ; and to know no street or passage in
this city which may not witness that I have not forgot
God and ray Saviour in it ; and that no parish or town
where 1 have been may not say the like. To pray daily
16*
370 UNCEASIKG PRAYER.
and particularly for sick patients, and in general for others,
wheresoever, howsoever, and under whose care soever ;
and at the entrance into the house of the sick, to say, The
peace and mercy of God be in this place. After a ser-
mon, to make a thanksgiving, and desire a blessing, and
to pray for the minister. In tempestuous weather, light-
ning, and thunder, either night or day, to pray for God's
merciful protection upon all men, and his mercy upon
their souls, bodies, and goods. Upon sight of beautiful
persons, to bless God in his creatures, to pray for the
beauty of their souls, and to enrich them with inward
graces, to be answerable unto the outward. Upon sight
of deformed persons, to send them inward graces, and en-
rich their souls, and give them the beauty of the resurrec-
tion."
Such unceasing supplication as this must result in great
spirituality. The growth of a Christian is in nothing
more apparent, than in the tone of his prayers. An in-
creasing humility, earnestness, comprehensiveness, concise-
ness, and heavenly glow in the devotions of a believer, are
a sure sign that he is drawing nearer to glory, honor, and
immortality — that he is rapidly preparing for a world
where every spiritual want will be fully supplied, and
where consequently prayer will pass into praise. There-
fore, " pray without ceasing," that you may hereafter wor-
ship and adore without ceasing.
SERMON XXIV.
THE FOLLY OF AMBITION.
Jeremiah xlv. 5. — "Seekest thou great things for thyself? seek
them not."
Man is a creature of aspirations. His constant question
is : Who will show me any good ? It matters not whether
we try him in the highest or the lowest ranges of society,
we find him always and everywhere reaching out after
something. It is an error to suppose that ambition is con-
fined to the Alexanders and Napoleons of the world. The
most retired hamlet has its village aspirants, whose minds
and hearts dilate with the same emotions in kind that
urged on " Macedonia's madman " in his career of conquest
from the Euxine to the Indus, and that stimulated the
French emperor through his hundreds of battles from Lodi
to Waterloo. To the human eye, there is, indeed, a great
difference between the aspirations of a Julius Caesar and
the aspirations of a county politician ; but to the Divine
eye there is no difference at all. Mathematicians tell us
that all finite numbers are reduced to the same level, when
compared with infinity ; that ten thousands or ten millions
are just as far from infinitude as ten hundred, or as ten,
or as one. So is it in morals. The ambition and aspi-
rations of an earthly monarch, or an earthly conqueror,
in the sight of Him who is from everlasting to everlasting,
372 THE FOLLY OF AMBITION.
are just as insignificant as the struggles of a village poli-
tician to acquire a village office, or the toils of a millionaire
to add a few more thousands to his treasures.
" Our lives through various scenes are drawn,
And vexed with trifling cares ;
While Thine eternal thought moves on
Thine undisturbed affairs."
If we could but look at human life from the position
of eternity, and measure it by the scale of infinity, we
should perceive that the common distinction which we
make between the great things and the small things of
earth is not a real one ; and that all human ambition, be it
that of a king or a peasant, is the same poor and futile at-
tempt of a creature to pass a line which the decree of the
infinite and eternal God has made it impossible for him
to pass. "Men of low degree are vanity, and men of
high degree are a lie ; to be laid in the balance, they are
altogether vanity."
The prophet Jeremiah, in the text, recognizes thisprone-
ness of man to inordinate and ambitious aspirations, and
warns against it. " Seekest thou great things for thyself?
seek them not." The putting of such a question implies
that this is the common weakness and sin of man. As if
he had said : " Are you one of the common mass of man-
kind, and is your eye dazzled with visions of glory, or
pleasure ? Are you reaching out after an unlimited meas-
ure of earthly good ? Are you seeking the praise of men,
and not the praise of God ? worldly enjoyment, and not
lieavenly blessedness? Cease this struggle and attempt
to find solid good in the creature." Let us, therefore, con-
sider some of the reasons for not aspiring after the " great
things " of earth and time ; some of the dissuasives from
worldly ambition.
THE FOLLY OF AMBITION": 373
I. The first reason for not seeking the great things of
earth and time is, that they will not he attained. We do
not deny that the energy and perseverance of an ambitious
man will accomplish great results, but we affirm confidently
that he will never attain what he desires. For his desires
are continually running ahead of his attainments, so tliat
the more he gets the more he wants. He never acquires
the " great thing " which lie is seeking, in such a way as to
sit down quietly and enjoy contentment of heart. Alexan-
der, we are told, having conquered all the then known
world, wept in disappointment because there were no more
worlds for him to overrun and subdue. The operation of
this principle is seen very clearly in the narrower sphere of
private life. A young man begins life with the aspiration
after wealth. This is the " great thing " which he seeks.
This is the height of his ambition. We will suppose that
he limits the sum which he seeks to one hundred thousand
dollars. After some years of toil and economy, he acquires
it. But this sum is no longer a " great thing " for him.
]N'ow that it is actually in his hands, it looks small, very
small. The limit is enlarged, and he aspires to be a
millionaire. The " great thing " which he now seeks is
one million of treasure. This too is secured, but with the
same result. The " great thing " shrivels up again now
that it is actually in his possession, and he once more en-
larges his limit, only to meet the same disappointment,
unless death interrupts him with the stern utterance:
" Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee,
and then whose shall those things be which thou hast
provided ? "
In this way, it is apparent that he who is seeking great
things here upon earth will never obtain them. He is
chasing his horizon. He is trying to jump off his own
shadow. As fast as he advances, the horizon recedes f roni
374 THE FOLLY OF AMBITION.
him ; the further he leaps, the further his shadow falls.
His estimate of what a "great thing" is continually
changes, so that though relatively to other men he has
accumulated wealth, or obtained earthly power and fame,
yet absolutely, he is no nearer the desire of his heart — no
nearer to a satisfying good — than he was at the beginning
of his career, Nay, it is the testimony of many a man,
that the first few gains that were made at the beginning of
life came nearer to filling the desires of the mind, and
were accompanied with more of actual contentment, than
the thousands and millions that succeeded them.
" As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." The value
of all earthly good depends entirely upon the views and
feelings which we entertain concerning it. There is no
fixed and unchangeable worth in temporal things, as there
is in eternal. Hence that which appeared great and
desirable to us yesterday, appears small and midesirable
to-day. Like the chameleon, it changes its color according
as we Vend over it, and cast light or shade upon it. He
who loves God and truth, loves an object that is the same
yesterday, to-day, and forever. But he who loves wealth,
or pleasure, or fame, loves a continually shifting and vary-
ing object. God is always great, and alwa3's good ; and
the heart that has made Him its supreme portion never
finds Him falling short of its expectations. But he who
fixes his affections upon the things that are seen, and tem-
poral, is subject to a constant series of disappointments.
As fast as one thing is attained, it proves to be different
from what was anticipated, and gives way to another,
which in its turn is chased after, and in its turn is flung
away in disgust when reached.
"We find, then, that a really great thing cannot be secured
within the sphere of earth, and sense, and time, because
there is no really great thing within this sphere. There
THE FOLLY OF AMBITION. 375
are many things that seem great while the struggle for
them is going on ; but there is not a single thing in the
wide realm of creation that is absolutely great. God alone
is great. Nothing but the infinite and adorable excellence
of God is large enough for the desires of an immortal
being like man. Well, therefore, may the prophet say to
every ambitious and aspiring man, whether his aspiration
reaches out after wealth, pleasure, or power : " Seekest
thou great things for thyself ? seek them not."
II. A second reason for not seeking great things is, that
if they could be attained they would ruin the soul. It is
fearful to observe the rapidity with which a man's char-
acter deteriorates as he secures the object of his desire,
when the object is a merely earthly one, and the desire is
a purely selfish one. Take, for illustration, the career of
that military genius to whom we have already alluded.
Napoleon Bonaparte sought " great things." He aimed at
a universal empire in Europe. And just in proportion as
he approached the object of his aspirations, did he recede
from that state of mind and heart which ought to char-
acterize a dependent creature of God. We do not allude
so much to outward vices and crimes — though the life of
the great captain will not bear inspection in this particular
— as to that gradual deadening of the humane emotions,
and that Lucifer-like self -exaltation, which transformed the
young Corsican of comparatively moderate desires and
purposes, into the most grasping and imperious soul that
ever lived upon earth. Meekness and humility are traits
that properly belong to every finite and dependent crea-
ture ; and He who came upon earth to exemplify the per-
fection of human nature said to all the world : " Take my
yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly
of heart." But who can think of meekness and humble
dependence upon God, in connection with the character of
376 THE FOLLY OF AMBITION.
Napoleon ? On the contrary, we always associate him
with those pagan demi-gods, those heaven-storming Titans,
who like the Lucifer of Scripture are the very impersona-
tion of pride and ambition. But such a spirit as this is
the worst species of human character. It is the most
intense form of idolatry — that of egotism and self -worship.
It is the most arrogant and defiant form of pride. It
would scale the heavens. It would dethrone the Eternal.
The same effect of mere worldly success is seen also in the
walks of every-day life. Cast your eye over the circle in
which you move, and select out those who are the most
greedy of earthly good, and are the most successful in ob-
taining it, and are they not the most selfish persons that
you know ? Docs not their character steadily deteriorate
as the years roll away ? They do not become any the less
grasping and avaricious, for their success ; but, on the
contrary, their appetite grows by what it feeds upon. The
fact which we have alluded to obtains a remarkable ex-
emplification, in their case. The instant the "great
thing " which they have been seeking after has actually
come into their possession, it seems a small one ; they are
not satisfied with it, and enlarge their limits. This in-
tensifies their cravings ; and this stimulates them to yet
more convulsive efforts. They override everything that
stands in their way, and opposes them in the attainment
of their projects, and thus acquire an arrogant and exact-
ing temper that renders them hateful and hated.
It is here, that we see the moral benefit of failures and
disappointments. Were men uniformly successful in their
search after " great things ; " did every man who seeks
wealth obtain wealth, and every man who grasps after
power obtain power, and every man who lusts after fame
become renowned ; the world would be a pandemonium,
and human character and happiness would be ruined.
THE FOLLY OF AMBITION. 377
Swollen by constant victory, and a sense of superiority, suc-
cessful men would turn their hands against one another,
as in the wars of the giants before the flood. There would
be no self-restraint, no regard for the welfare of others,
no moderate and just estimate of this world, and no atten-
tion to the future life, Nothing but the failures and dis-
appointments that so crowd the career of man on the earth,
prevents the world from becoming a theatre of contend-
ing factions that would ultimately destroy each other. This
man is reduced from affluence to poverty, and he is made sub-
missive, and moderate, and reasonable in his temper. That
man fails to reach the summit of his ambition, and quietly
settles down into a useful and.happy sphere of labor. Thus
the providence of " God only wise " educates ambitious and
grasping man into sobriety, and a judicious estimate of
both the great things and the small things of this transitory
existence.
Ill, A third reason for not seeking " great things " lies
in the fact, that " great things," so far as they are attained
at all in this world, are commonly attained indirectly.
Saul the son of Kish was sent out by his father to find the
asses that had strayed, but he found a kingdom instead.
Disappointed in his search for the lost animals, he betook
himself to the prophet Samuel for information, and Samuel
anointed him king over Israel, He did not obtain what
he went for, but something greater and better. This illus-
trates the manner in which " great things " are generally
acquired in this world. They come indirectly.
Look into literary history, and see how this is exempli-
fied. The most successful creations of the human reason
and imagination have rarely been the intentional, and fore-
seen products of the person. The great authors have been
surprised at their success ; if, indeed, success came to them
during their life-time. But more commonly their fame
378 THE FOLLY OF AMBITION.
has been posthumous, and their ears never heard a single
note of the paean that went up from the subsequent genera-
tions that were enchanted with their genius. Shakspeare
and Milton never read a single criticism upon their own
works; and to-day they neither know anything of, nor care
for the fame that attends them upon this little planet.
Wordsworth writes to a friend who had congratulated him
upon the estimation in which his poetry was held : " I am
standing on the brink of the vast ocean I must sail so soon ;
I must speedily lose sight of the shore ; and I could not,
once, have conceived how little I am now troubled by the
thought of how long or short a time they who remain on
that shore may have sight of me." Speaking generally,
the great authors left something so written to after times
as men would not willingly let die, not because they aimed
deliberately, and with a straining effort, at such a result,
but because in the prosecution of other aims — in following
their own tastes and impulses, or their desire to be useful
to their fellow-men — ^this result came to them in the provi-
dence of God. Said one of the most celebrated of modern
poets — one who sprang into notoriety during his life-time,
without any preconceived purpose, or any laborious effort
to this end — " I woke up one morning and found myself
famous."
Look, again, into the circles of trade and commerce, and
observe how often great and lasting success comes inci-
dentally, rather than as the consequence of preconceived
purposes and plans. The person aimed simply at the dis-
charge of his duties to his family, to the state, and to his
Maker. He laid out no plans for the acquisition of a
colossal fortune, but endeavored to provide for the present
and prospective wants of those dependent upon him, with
prudence and moderation. He obtained, however, far
more than he calculated upon. Wealth came in upon him
THE FOLLY OF AMBITION. 379
with rapidity, and that which he did not greedily seek, and
which he never in the least gloated upon with a miser's
feeling, was the actual result of his career in the world.
The words of our Lord are true in reference to secular,
as well as sacred things : " He that findeth his life shall
lose it ; and he that loseth his life shall find it." If we
directly seek " great things," we shall fail of their attain-
ment. There are a few exceptions to this general rule, it
is true ; but a careful observation of the common course
of events will show, that reputation, wealth, and secular
blessings generally, fall to those who are not specially
anxious concerning them — who pursue the ends of life
with wisdom and moderation, and are rewarded by Divine
Providence with an overplus of temporal good that formed
no part of their original purposes and expectations. The
great majority of those, on the contrary, who set up fame,
wealth, or pleasure, as their idol, and made everything
subservient to its attainment, have been miserably disap-
pointed. They were destined to fail inevitably. For, in
case they obtained the glittering object they aimed at, it
grew pale and dnll in their possession, like that radiant
little insect which the child chases in the summer evening,
and grasps in his hands, only to find a black and repulsive
bug. And in case they failed altogether, in securing the
prize which they sought, their anxious and spasmodic
efforts after it only left them tired, and disgusted with
human life.
Seekest thou, then, great things for thyself? seek them
not. They will not come by this method. Seek first of
all the kingdom of God, and his righteousness ; and then
all these minor things, which the world and the deluded
human heart denominates " great things," shall be added
unto you. Be faithful to your duties in the family, in the
state, and in the church, and then that measure of secular
380 THE FOLLY OF AMBITION.
blessings which will accrue to you of itself, will exceed
all that you will be likely to attain even by the most en-
grossing and violent efforts devoted to the sole purpose
of obtaining them. If you will lose your life, you shall
find it ; but if you insist upon finding your life, you shall
lose it.
TV. A fourth reason for obeying the injunction of the
text is found in the fact, that great sorrow springs from
great aspirations, when those aspirations are unattained.
There is only one species of aspiration that does not weary
and wear the soul, and that is, the craving and cry of the
soul after God. "As the hart panteth after the water
brooks, so panteth my soul after thee O God." The
desire expressed in these words of the Psalmist can never
satiate, or disgust the human spirit, for the reason that God
is the real and true portion, the substantial, eternal good
of the creature. But all other aspirations dispirit and dis-
courage in the end. " He that increaseth knowledge in-
creaseth sorrow." The sadness and melancholy of the
man of letters is well known. One of the most equable
minds in literary history, singularly calm and balanced by
nature, and remarkably free from passionate and stormy
impulses, confessed at the close of a long life of eighty
years that he had never experienced a moment of genuine
repose.' Humboldt, who had surveyed the cosmos, and
who had devoted a long existence to placid contemplation
of the processes of nature, and had kept aloof from the
exciting and passionate provinces of human literature, said
in his eightieth year : " I live without hope, because so
little of what I have undertaken yields a satisfactory re-
sult." This is the penalty which ambitious minds pay for
seeking "great things." There is an infinite aspiration,
' Goethe : Conversations by Eckermann, p. 58.
THE FOLLY OF AMBITION. 381
and an infinitesimal performance. The hour of death, and
the falling shadows of an everlasting existence, and an
everlasting destiny, bring the aspiration and the perform-
ance into terrible contrast. Most impressively do such
facts and experiences in the history of marked men re-
iterate the prophet's injunction: " Seekest thou great
things for thyself ? seek them not."
Go down, once more, into the sphere of active life, and
see the same sorrow from the same course. Look at that
man of trade and commerce who has spent his life in
gigantic, and, we will suppose, successful enterprises, and
who now drawls near the grave. Ask him how the aspira-
tion compares with the performance. He has generally
accomplished, we will assume, what he undertook. The
results of his energy and capacity are known, and visible
to all in his circle and way of life. His associates have
praised him, and still praise him ; for he has done well for
himself, and for all connected with him. But he writes
vanity upon it all. When he thinks of all the heat and
fever of his life, all his anxious calculation and toil by day
and night, all his sacrifice of physical comfort and of
mental and moral improvement, and then thinks of the
actual results of it all — the few millions of treasure, the
few thousands of acres, or the few hundreds of houses —
he bewails his infatuation, and curses his folly. He per-
ceives that great sorrow springs out of a great aspiration,
when that aspiration terminates upon things seen and
temporal.
Such, then, are the dissuasives to ambition. These are
the reasons for heeding the injunction of the prophet, not
to seek the great things of earth. They will not be at-
tained, because as fast as they come into possession they
lose their value. If they could be attained, they would
ruin the soul, by inordinate pride and self -exaltation. So
382 THE FOLLY OF AMBITION.
far as they are partially and approximately attained, it is
by indirection, and not by preconceived aims and purposes.
And, lastly, a great sorrow always springs out of a great
aspiration that is unfulfilled.
1. In the light of this subject and its discussion, we per-
ceive, in the first place, the smfulness of ambition. Some
speak of a " holy ambition ; " but there is no such thing,
any more than a holy pride, or a sanctified avarice. Am-
bition, as the etymology of the word denotes, is a circuit-
ous method (ambio). It is not the straightforward search
after a good thing, simply because it is good ; but it is
the roundabout endeavor to obtain a " great thing," for the
sake of the personal advantage which it yields. If the
student toils after knowledge, not for its own sake but be-
cause it brings fame and worldly gain with it, he is an
ambitious student. He does not proceed straight to the
mark, and acquire learning because it is good in itself, but
that he may convert it into a mere means to some ulterior
end. If a man seeks religion, not because it is intrinsically
excellent, but that his standing in society may be advanced,
he is actuated by an ambitious motive. He does not move
straight and direct towards the good thing, and choose it
for its own pure excellence. It is impossible that such a
spirit as this should be virtuous, or of the nature of virtue.
On the contrary, it is sinful in the utmost degree, because
it is the very essence of selfishness and pride. Such a per-
son employs all the good things, and all the great things,
of this world and the next, as mere means for the accomplish-
ment of his private and ambitious ends. It was by this sin,
that the angels fell. They were not content with loving
God because he is lovely, and obeying law because the law
is holy, just and good. They desired to obtain some private
and personal advantage, separate from, and over and above
the joy, peace, and blessedness of serving God for his own
THE FOLLY OF AMBITIOIST. 383
sake. And the fallen archangel plied our first parents,
with the same motive. He promised them that if they
would eat of the forbidden tree, they should "be as gods."
He wakened in them the feeling of ambition, and by
ambition they, too, fell.
2. In the second place, we see in the light of this sub-
ject, the complete and perfect blessedness of those who are
free from all ambitious aims and selfish purposes ; who
can say : " Whom have I in heaven but Thee ? and there
is none upon earth that I desire besides Thee. Thou, O God,
art the strength of my heart, and my portion forever."
We cannot find a perfect happiness upon earth, because we
cannot find a soul that is perfectly unambitious and un-
selfish. The best of men will confess that the lingering
remains of this Adamic sin, this desire to be as gods, this
straining after superiority, are continually stirring within
them, and interfering with their spiritual peace and joy.
And they long for the time when they shall be satisfied
with the Divine likeness ; when they shall not be envious
in the least of the happiness and the privileges of others ;
nay, when they shall not be disturbed in the least to see
others placed above them. For such will be the state of
feeling in the heavenly world. The spirit of a just man
made perfect, who is satisfied from himself because he is
satisfied in God, does not envy the exaltation of the angel
above him ; the angel feels no pang of jealousy on seeing
the cherub higher than himself ; the cherub does not be-
grudge the seraph his glory and joy ; and none of all these
have the slightest desire to drag down the archangel from
his lofty place in the celestial hierarchy. Each and all of
these ranks of happy intelligences know that God is in-
finitely greater and more glorious than his universe, and
in liim they all delight according to the measure of their
powers and capacities.
384 THE FOLLY OF AMBITION".
And only as this spirit animates the hearts of Chris-
tians here below, does the Church resemble the heavenly
state. But, alas ! Ephraim envies Judah, and Judah vexes
Ephraim, and the kingdom of the meek and lowly Re-
deemer is torn with intestine struggles. And the heart
of the individual believer is also torn with an intestine
struggle. How difficult it is to obey the injunction of St.
James : " Let the brother of low degree rejoice in that he
is exalted, but the rich in that he is made low," How
difficult to desist from seeking " great things," and in the
simple, godly, conscientious discharge of daily duties, seek
first of all the kingdom of God and his righteousness, free
from all pride and all ambition.
But " to this complexion must we come at last." To
this frame of mind we are summoned by our Redeemer,
and to this must we attain. Therefore cultivate this meek
and lowly temper. By prayer and supplication ; by con-
stantly remembering that tlie things which are seen are
temporal; by frequent meditation upon the vanity of earth
and of man as mortal, and upon the glory and eternity of
heavenly objects ; by such methods as these, and only by
such methods, can we rid ourselves of our pride and am-
bition, and obey the command of God by his prophet :
" Seekest thou great things for thyself ? seek them not."
SERMON XXY.
EVERY CHRISTIAN A DEBTOR TO THE PAGAN.
Romans i. 14. — "I am debtor both to the Greeks, and to the Bar-
barians; both to the wise, and the unwise."
This is the reason whicli the apostle Paul assigns for his
readiness to go to Rome, or to the ends of the earth, to
preach the gospel of Christ which is the power of God
unto salvation to every one that believes it. He is a debtor.
He owes the gospel to the world. But St. Paul was not
under any such special and peculiar indebtedness, in this
particular, as to make his position different from yours
and mine. We are too apt to regard the prophets, and
apostles, and martyrs, as holding a different relation to
the work of evangelizing the world from that which or-
dinary Christians sustain ; and that therefore the Great
Steward will not require of the Church at large such an
entire self-sacrifice in this behalf, as he did of the first
preachers of Christianity. How ready the sluggish dis-
ciple is to conclude that he is not called upon to exercise
a self-denial for Christian missions that costs him, and
tasks him, merely because he is not himself a missionary.
Had he decided to devote his life to preaching the gospel
to the heathen, there would then be a special obligation
resting upon him ; but not having so decided, his relation
to the great work of missions, he thinks, is distant and un-
17
386 EVEEY CHRISTIAN A
important. Such is the unconscious reasoning of too many
within the Christian Church ; and hence it is, that the
work which is dearest of all to the heart of Christ makes so
little progress in the world, compared with the great num-
bers and the immense resources of the Christian Church.
But there is no distinction of Christians, anj more than
of persons, with God. All Christians stand upon the same
position, in regard to the work of evangelizing the world.
They are all of them debtors. Every individual member
of the Christian Church owes the gospel to mankind.
Each and every disciple of Christ must say with St. Paul :
" I am debtor both to the Greeks and the Barbarians, both
to the wise and the unwise." Let us then in the first
place consider the nature and strength of that particular
motive to labor for the spread of the gospel which is pre-
sented in the text.
The feeling of indebtedness, in an honorable mind, is a
powerful one. It lies under all the trade and commerce
of the world, and is the spring which impels all the wheels
of secular business. Men owe one another sums of money,
and the endeavor to discharge these obligations makes up
the sum and substance of agricultural, manufacturing, and
mercantile life. Hence it is, that anything that injurious-
ly affects the sentiment of pecuniary obligation strikes a
blow at the pecuniary prosperity of a nation ; while every-
thing that contributes to deepen and strengthen this sen-
timent promotes national wealth. Suppose that by reason
of some false theory in morals, or some strong workings of
human selfishness, the entire mercantile community should
lose its respect for contracts, and promises, and obligations
of every kind ; suppose that the feeling of indebtedness
should die away, and an utter indifference to debts should
take its place ; what a total paralysis in all departments of
trade and commerce would ensue. This is sometimes seen
DEBTOR TO THE PAGAN. 387
upon a small scale, at some particular crisis. A commer-
cial revulsion sometimes occurs within a certain country,
or a certain section of a country, because mercantile honor
has declined. Men lose confidence in each other, because
they see, or think they see, a lax morality, a false theory
of indebtedness, creeping in and influencing their fellow-
men ; and the consequence is a refusal either to buy or
to sell. And thus all the wheels of business are blocked.
But the power of this sentiment is seen very clearly in
the instance of the individual. When a high-minded and
strictly honorable man has legitimately come under certain
obligations, there is a wholesome pressure upon him which
elicits all his energies. He is in debt. He feels the respon-
sibility, and acknowledges it. He proceeds to meet it.
His time is sacredly devoted to his business. He econo-
mizes his expenditures. He engages in no rash or specula-
tive transactions. He keeps his affairs under his own eye,
and bends all his energies with sagacity and prudence to
the extinguishment of his indebtedness. Never are all the
merely secular abilities of a man in better tone, or braced
up to a more vigorous and successful activity, than when,
under the sense of obligation, he proceeds with perfect in-
tegrity to obey the injunction, " Owe no man anything."
Like a well- built and tight ship, with no gay display of
streamers, but with sails well bent, cordage new, strong,
and taut, a skilful pilot at the helm, and a thoroughbred
master in command, such a man is a master-spirit. Though
the gales increase, and the billows roll, " and the rapt ship
run on her side so low that she drinks water, and her keel
ploughs air," yet there is concentrated and well-applied
energy on board, and she weathers the storm.
But not only does this sentiment of indebtedness con-
stitute a powerful motive to action : it is also a cheerful
and an encouraging motive. The species of indebtedness
388 EVERY CHRISTIAN A
of which we are speaking, supposes the possibility of pay-
ment. It implies a proper proportion between the talents
and resources of the person, and the amount of his
liabilities. In case his debt becomes so vast, and out of
all relation to his present and prospective means of ex-
tinguishing it, as to render its payment hopeless, then the
sentiment of indebtedness operates like an incubus. The
proposition to pay a debt as large as that of a nation, like
the proposition to lift a mountain, would be paralyzing
upon any one man's energies. He could not lift a finge*.
towards the impossible task.
But we are speaking of a kind of indebtedness that stands
in practicable proportion to individual ability. And in
this reference we affirm, that he who feels the stimulation
of such a moderated obligation is under a pressure that
strengthens, rather than weakens him. He finds in his
very indebtedness a cheerful and encouraging motive to
" go forth to his work, and his labor, until the evening."
Every hour of faithful effort, every well-contrived plan,
all his sagacity, prudence, and economy — the whole labor
of the day — tends directly and surely to the extinguish-
ment of the claims that lie against him. Men distinguished
in the monetary world have described the sense of satis-
faction, nay, the gush of pleasure, which they experienced
in the earlier days of their career, from the excitement
incident to a gradual but certain overcoming of their
liabilities. Though later years brought with them vast
wealth, yet they confessed that their earlier years were
their happiest — the most marked by energy, a sense of
power, and the feeling of buoyant hopefulness.
Such is the general nature and influence of that senti-
ment to which St. Paul gives utterance, when he says :
" I am debtor both to the Greeks, and to the Barbarians ;
I owe the gospel to the wise, and to the unwise." And we
DEBTOR TO THE PAGAN. 389
proceed now to apply what has been said, to the Christianas
indebtedness to the xinevangelized pagan.
I. In the fii'st place, every Christian owes the gospel to
the pagan, because of the deep interest which Christ takes
in the pagan. In the account of the last judgment, we are
taught that all neglect of human welfare is neglect of
Jesus Christ ; that he who cares nothing for unevangelized
man cares nothing for the Son of God. Our Lord identi-
fies himself with those who have never heard of his
gospel, and represents all discharge of duty to them as dis-
charge of duty to Him, and all dereliction of duty to them as
dereliction of duty to Him. When those on the right hand
shall ask : " Lord, when saw we thee an hungered and fed
thee ? or thirsty and gave thee drink ? When saw we thee a
stranger and took thee in ? or naked and clothed thee ? Or
when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee ?
the King shall answer, and say unto them, Yerily I say
unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the
least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."
And when those on the left hand shall ask : " Lord, when
saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or
naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee ?
then shall he answer them, saying, Yerily I say unto you,
inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye
did it not to me." In these remarkable words, the Divine
Redeemer indicates his profound interest in every sinful
man without exception. Anything that is done for hu-
man salvation, in any nation or age, is done for Him.
And the awful curse of the merciful Saviour falls upon
those who do nothing for human welfare. Jesus Christ
compassionates lost men universally, and intensely desires
their deliverance from sin. His compassion is so tender,
and his desire so strong, that any one who labors to save a
human soul from sin labors for Him. He who spiritually
390 EVEEY CHRISTIAN A
feeds, clothes, and medicines any sinner, feeds, clothes,
and medicines the Saviour of sinners. Our Lord thus
identifies himself with the sinful and lost world for which
he died. We have no conception of the immensity of that
1 Divine sympathy and compassion for man which moved
the second Person of the Godhead to become the Man of
sorrows, and, in the phrase of the prophet, to " take our
infirmities and bear our sicknesses." When he was upon
earth, the sin and suffering of the children of men im-
mediately and uniforml}'^ affected his heart, and we never
detect in him the least indication or exhibition of weari-
ness, or indifference, towards human woes and wants. So
absorbed was he in his merciful work, that " his friends
went out to lay hold on him, for they said, He is beside
himself." When, upon that last and sorrowful journey to
Jerusalem, he had reached the summit of the Mount of
Olives, and the whole city burst upon his view, his eyes
filled with tears at the thought of its guilt and misery.
Look through the world, look through the universe, and
see if there be any sorrow like unto his sorrow — so pro-
found, so spontaneous, so unceasing, so commiserating.
This sympathy and compassion originated partly from
his Divinity, and partly from his humanity. As God, he
understood as no created mind can understand what sin,
and guilt, and hell are ; and as man, he was bone of man's
bone, and flesh of man's flesh. The doctrine of the in-
carnation explains this profound interest, and this entire
identification. The Divinity in his complex person gave
the eye to see, and the humanity gave the heart to feel and
suffer ; and when such an eye is united with such a heart,
the sorrow and the sympathy are infinite. As God, the
Redeemer was the creator of men, and as man, he was
their elder brother ; and therefore it is, that he can so
unify himself with the world of mankind, as he does in
DEBTOK TO THE PAGAN. 391
these wonderful utterances which will constitute his rule
of judgment in the last great day. " Inasmuch as ye have
done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have
done it unto me. Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the
least of these, ye did it not to meP
II. In the second place, every Christian owes the gospel
to the unevangelized pagan, because of his own personal
indebtedness to Christ. That every Christian is indebted
to Christ will not be denied for an instant. There is no
claim equal to that which results from delivering an im-
mortal soul from eternal death. Language fails to express
the absoluteness of the right which the Redeemer has to
the service of his redeemed people. The right to man's
service which he has by virtue of his relation as a Creator
is immeasurable. To originate a being from nothing, and
then to uphold him in existence, lays the foundation for a
claim that is complete and indefeasible. And did man-
kind realize how entirely they belong to their Maker, by
virtue of being his workmanship in a sense far more literal
than that in which we say that a watch belongs to the
artisan who made it ; did they feel the force of the fact
that God made them, and not they themselves ; they would
not dare to set up a claim to those bodies and spirits, those
talents and possessions which are His. " I have made the
earth, and created man upon it ; I, even my hands, have
stretched out the heavens, and all their host have I com-
manded. Every beast of the forest is mine, and the cattle
upon a thousand hills," saith the Almighty.
But this claim which God as Redeemer possesses upon
a human being whom he has saved from eternal death is
even greater than that of God as Creator. " Ye were not
redeemed with corruptible things as silver and gold, but
with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without
blemish, and without spot." The Christian Church, many
392 EVERY CHRISTIAN A
centuries ago, was agitated with the question whether it is
scriptural and proper to saj that Maiy was the " mother
of God," and that sinners are redeemed by the " blood of
God." The phrases, " mother of God," and " blood of
God," were condemned by the Church represented in gen-
eral council, because those "who contended for their use
were understood to employ them in a sense inconsistent
with the Divine attributes. They were taken to mean that
Mary was the mother of imincarnate God ; and that the
blood spoken of was the blood of wmncarnate God. This
is incompatible with the impassibility of the Divine Es-
sence. But the Church was willing to affirm, and did
affirm, that the Yirgin Mary was the mother of incarnate
God, and that the blood spilled upon Calvary was the
blood of incarnate God. There is a mother of the God-
man, and a blood of the God-man. In this latter state-
ment, the birth and the blood are confined to the human
nature of Jesus Christ, while, at the same time, this birth
and this blood are infinitely exalted and dignified above
the birth and blood of an ordinary man, by the union of
the humanity with the Divinity. This makes the sacrifice
of Christ more than finite, and more than human. It be-
comes an infinite and divine oblation. And to indicate
this, the Scripture itself employs the phraseology which by
a wrong interpretation led to the Nestorian controversy.
St. Paul, addressing the elders of Ephesus at Miletus,
says : " Take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all
the flock over which the Holy Ghost hath made you over-
seers, to feed the Church of God, which he hath purchased
with his own blood." (Acts xx. 28.)
If this language be explained as the Church explained
it, by the union of two distinct natures in the one person
of the Lord Jesus Christ, so that he is at once truly God
and truly man, then it teaches the Christian that he has
DEBTOR TO THE PAGAN. 393
been redeemed by no merely common and finite sacrifice ;
that his sin has been expiated by the blood of a God-man,
the " pi'ecious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blem-
ish and without spot." And it is this great fact which
brings every redeemed sinner under an infinite indebted-
ness to his Saviour. He has been purchased by the blood
of God incarnate. It was this truth that filled the Apostle
Paul with such an overwhelming sense of his duty to Jesus
Christ. This it was, that made him say : " I am debtor
both to the Greeks and to the Barbarians. I owe the
knowledge of this great atonement which my Redeemer
has made for the sin of the whole world, to every human
creature, wise or unwise, high or low, rich or poor." The
stupendous fact that God Almighty imites himself with
the sinner's nature, and dies in the sinner's stead, lays
upon that sinner an immeasurable obligation to live and
labor for the same world and the same object for which,
in the phrase of the hymn, " God the Mighty Maker
died."
We have thus considered the nature of the feeling of in-
debtedness, and the foundation upon which it rests, with
reference to the duty of every Christian to obey the great
command of his Redeemer, to preach the gospel to every
creature. As to its source and foundation, it springs out
of the fact of Christ's deep interest in the salvation of men,
and of the believer's personal redemption by the blood of
incarnate God ; and as to its nature and operation, it is a
powerful and a cheerful motive, and principle of action.
We now proceed to draw some conclusions from the
subject.
1. We remark, in the first place, that every Christian
should look upon the work of evangelizing the world as a
debt which he literally and actually owes to Christ, and to
his fellow-man. He should heartily acknowledge this debt,
17*
394 EVEEY CHRISTIAN A
and not attempt to free himself from it, by explaining it
away as a figure of speech.
It is a great honor and privilege to be allowed to labor
together with Go^ in anything. When we consider how
imperfect and unworthy our services are, it is strange that
the Infinite One, who is excellent in working, and who
doeth all things well, should admit us into a fellowship of
toil with him. Yet so it is. " We are laborers together
with God," says the Apostle. If we felt the full signifi-
cance of this truth, we should need no further motive to
self-sacrifice in the work of preaching Christ. The honor
and privilege would be enough. But, alas! we do not.
And therefore we need to stimulate ourselves to greater
activity, by the consideration of our serious and solemn
duty in the premises.
" Freely ye have received, freely give." This was the
command which our blessed Saviour gave to his twelve
disciples, when he sent them out as his commissioned her-
alds. He had endowed them with miraculous powers —
"power against unclean spirits to cast them out, and to
heal all manner of sickness and all manner of disease."
This endowment laid them under obligation to employ it
faithfully^ and scrupulously^ in his service. Suppose now
that, like Simon the sorcerer, they had attempted to use
this supernaturalism for their own selfish purposes; sup-
pose that instead of giving health to the sick, and sight to
the blind, freely and without price, they had sold miracles,
and taken money for the marvellous cures. How instan-
taneously would the wrath of the Lamb, the merciful Re-
deemer who had endowed them and commissioned them,
have fallen upon them. But the case would have been
the same, had they neglected to make any use at all of
their supernatural gifts. By being thus selected by the
Redeemer, and clothed with miraculous virtues, they were
DEBTOR TO THE PAGAN. 395
constituted debtors to the inhabitants of Jndea. They
owed these healing mercies to the sick and the dying, and
the mere non-use of them would have been a sin and a
crime.
Precisely such is the relation which every individual
Christian sustains to that power of healing spiritual mala-
dies, and saving from spiritual death, which is contained
in the gospel of Christ. Having himself freely received
this gospel, he is now under a solemn duty to give it to
others. If he should formally refuse to impart the gift ;
if he should deliberately decry and oppose Christian mis-
sions ; if he should put obstacles in the way of those who
are endeavoring to evangelize the nations ; he would of
course incur the Divine condemnation. But so he will, if
he simply neglects to discharge his indebtedness ; if he
merely non-uses the precious and the marvellous treasure
which has been committed to him in virtue of his own
discipleship. That Christian, if we can call him such,
who should trust in the blood of the God-man for personal
justification in the great day of judgment, and yet never
commend this same method of salvation to the acceptance
of his fellow-creatures, either himself personally or by
proxy through some missionary, would be precisely like
that Judas who carried the bag and what was put therein,
but who expended the contents upon his own traitorous
and worthless self.
We cannot too carefully remember that the work of
missions is not an optional matter, for a disciple of Christ.
It is a debt. "Woe is me," said St. Paul, "if I preach
not the gospel." The "treasure" which "has been com-
mitted to earthen vessels" must be made over to those
for whom it is intended, or it will prove to be a poison
and a curse. It is like the manna which God bestowed
upon the Israelites in the desert. So long as they used it,
396 EVERY CHRISTIAN A
it was the bread of heaven and angels' food ; but when
they hoarded it, it became corruption and putrefaction in
their very hands. If the Church looks upon the gospel,
and the preaching of it, as a gift which it has freely re-
ceived and from which untold blessings have come upon
herself, and heartily acknowledges her obligation to im-
part this gift to others ; if she does not regard this evan-
gelizing work as an optional matter, but a most solemn
debt to her redeeming God and her perishing fellow-crea-
tures ; she will go forward, and by the grace of God fulfil
her obligations. But if this sentiment of indebtedness de-
clines in her mind and heart, then she will lapse back into
indifference and apathy, and these are the liarbingers of a
corrupt Christianity, which will be buried in one common
grave with Paganism, Mohammedanism, and all forms of
human sin and error.
2. In the second place, we remark in view of this sub-
ject, that Christians should labor zealously to discharge
this debt to Christ, and to the world of sinners for whom
he died.
In speaking of the influence of the feeling of indebtedness,
we had occasion to remark that it is always a stimulus to
effort, in case the payment of the debt is within the com-
pass of possibility. Such is the fact in the instance before
us. The debt which the believer is to pay is not his debt to
eternal justice. That he can never discharge. That is be-
yond all created power. Christians are not to send the
gospel to the Greek and the Barbarian, for the purpose of
making an atonement for their sins, and thereby cancelling
their obligations to law and justice. That debt Christ
himself has paid ; and paid to the uttermost farthing.
But this is the debt which you, and I, and every pro-
fessed disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ owes, and which
we must discharge. It is the obligation to do here upon
DEBTOR TO THE PAGAN. 397
earth, in our own little period of time, and our own little
section of space, all that in us lies to " preach the gospel
to every creature." If the providence and Spirit of God
indicate that we are to go in person, then we are to go in
person. If the providence of God has forbidden this, but
has placed in our hands the silver and the gold by which
we can send our representative, then we are to give our
silver and our gold, with our prayers for the Divine bless-
ing upon it. One or the other of these two courses must
be pursued, in order to discharge our indebtedness to our
Redeemer and our fellow-sinners.
And, by the grace of God, this can be done. The labor
to which we are called by our Lord and Master is not of
that immense, and infinite kind which he undertook when
he veiled his deity in our flesh, and sweat great drops of
blood under the burden of God's wrath, in our stead. It
is that moderate and proportioned species of labor, which
consists in giving back to Christ what we have received
from him. This is all, "We are to provide salvation for
the destitute, out of resources which God has first bestowed
upon us. If God has given us the requisite mental and
moral powers, and the means of education and discipline,
these we are to employ in personal evangelistic service,
if such be the leadings of his grace and providence. God
has given us personal influence more or less, and a portion of
this world's goods more or less, and these we are to employ
in making the world better. We repeat it ; the disciple
of Christ, is to " give to God the things that are God's ; "
to pay his debt out of God's own purse and treasury. And
therefore it is, we say again, that this indebtedness is not
of that infinite and superhuman nature which puts it
entirely beyond the reach of a mortal. It is simply to
employ, to the best of our opportunity, our talents, our
time, our wealth, om- prayers, in extending the knowledge
398 EVERY CHRISTIAN A
of Christ to the whole world. Each and every one of
these things comes to ns, ultimately, from God, And is
it not a deep and selfish sin that refuses, or neglects to
employ in his service even a portion of his overflowing
bounty, but squanders it upon the pampered and worldly
creature ?
3. The third and final observation suggested by the
subject is, that the faithful Christian will be rewarded for
his discharge of his obligations to the un evangelized world.
In that memorable picture which our Lord draws of the
final day, he represents himself as saying to those who
have fed the hungry, clothed the naked, and visited the
prisoner : " Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the
kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of
the world," God rewards his own grace. His people,
who in this world have been enabled by him to discharge
their duty with measurable fidelity, will be crowned with
glory and honor in the next. It is not by an absolute
merit that the disciple acquires this immense compensation.
He has done what he has, only in the strength of Christ,
and therefore his reward is a gracious reward. Hence we
find that the faithful disciples are surprised to learn, in the
great day, that their imperfect services have been so highly
estimated by the Lord and Judge. They cannot imagine
that they deserve such an amazing recompense. " When
saw we thee an hungered and fed thee ; or thirsty and
gave thee drink ? When saw we thee a stranger and took
thee in ? or naked and clothed thee ? Or when saw we
thee sick or in prison and came unto thee ? " It will in-
deed be a surprise, and a joy unspeakable, when the be-
liever, who is deeply conscious of his imperfect services,
shall yet hear from the lips of the Infallible One : " Well
done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of
thy Lord." But he will hear this plaudit, because God
DEBTOR TO THE PAGAN. 399
gives " grace for grace," and by grace the believer is en-
abled to discharge the debt which he owes to Christ, and
to his fellow-men. And he will say with St. I'aul, who in
our text confesses himself to be a debtor to the Greek and
the Barbarian : " I have fought a good fight, I have kept
the faith, I have labored more abundantly than they all,
yet not 1 but the grace of God that was in me. Hence-
forth there is a crown of righteousness laid up for me, and
not for me only, but for all who love his appearing."
SERMON XXVI.
THE CERTAIN SUCCESS OF EVANGELISTIC LABOR.
Isaiah Iv. 10, 11. — "For as the rain cometh down and the snow
from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and
maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and
bread to the eater ; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my
mouth : it shall not return unto me void ; but it shall accomplish that
which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it."
It is the duty of the Christian Church to preach the
gospel to everj creature, because Christ the Head of the
Church has commanded it so to do. It follows from this,
that every individual member is obliged to contribute to
this result, in proportion to his means and opportunities.
No one believer is charged with the performance of the
whole work. St. Paul was not bound to evangelize the
entire globe, but only to preach as far and as wide as he
could. The work that is assigned to the Church as a
whole cannot be devolved upon a few persons, and no single
generation is required to perform the service of all the
generations of believers. On the contrary, each and every
disciple of Christ has laid upon him a certain portion of
this Christian service which he is solemnly bound to
render. The command to the single Christian : " Go
work this day in my vineyard," is as imperative as the
command to the whole Church : " Go preach my gospel to
SUCCESS OF EVANGELISTIC LABOR. 401
every creature." The entire labor of evangelizing the
globe is thus distributed among the generations of Chris-
tians, and among the innumerable individuals composing
them, and if each one were as faithful in his own sphere
and time as was the apostle Paul, this sinful and miserable
world would present a far different appearance from what
it now does.
Inasmuch as each and every disciple of Christ is thus
bound to contribute his share towards the evangelization of
the globe, it becomes an interesting and important ques-
tion, whether the work is feasible. May it not be that
the Church is attempting too much ? The larger part of
the world is still pagan, and totally ignorant of God in
Christ ; and a considerable part of nominal Christendom
consists of unrenewed men who are as distant from heaven
as the heathen, so far as the new birth is concerned. In
comparison with the entire human family, the Church of
Christ, as the hymn tells us, is still
" ' A little spot enclosed by grace,
Out of the world's wide wilderness."
How can the Church at large, and the individual Chris-
tian, be certain that they are not undertaking a work that
is intrinsically impossible of performance? I^o laborer
desires to spend his strength for nought. It was one of
the torments of the pagan hell, perpetually to roll a stone
up a hill, and just as it reached the summit, perpetually
to see it slip from the hands and roll back to the bottom.
It was another of the torments of Tartarus, to draw water
in a sieve forever and forevermore. These futile labors of
Sisyphus, and the daughters of Danaus, are emblematic
of that species of effort which cannot succeed, by reason
of an intrinsic infeasibility. N^o man can conquer the
force of gravitation. He may resist it, but he cannot con-
402 THE CERTAIN SUCCESS
quer it ; the stone and the drop of water will eventually
fall to the ground, in spite of the most persevering efPorts
to the contrary. Is the endeavor to preach the gospel
everywhere, and instrumentally to convert the souls of all
men, a labor of this kind ? Is the Church engaged in
the toil of Sisyphus ? If so, it is work without hope, and
" Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve,
And hope without an object cannot live."
Unless the people of God have sure and strong reasons for
believing that the enterprise in which they are engaged — ■
the endeavor to put a Bible into every man's hand, and to
impress its truths upon his heart — is within the compass of
possibility, they ought to cease from their labors. And
if, on the other hand, they have in the purposes, promises,
truth, and power of God, an infallible certainty of success
in this endeavor, then they ought to toil with a hundred-
fold more energy, and a hundredfold more courage.
We propose to mention some of the reasons that make
it certain that evangelistic labor will succeed ; that the
effort of the Church to preach Christ crucified will no more
fail of its effect, than the rain will fail to water the earth,
and cause the seeds that are sown in it to germinate.
I. We argue and derive the certainty of success in evan-
gelistic labor, in the first place, from the nature of Divine
truth. There is something in the quality and characteris-
tics of the doctrine which we are commanded to preach to
every creature, that promises and prophesies a triumph.
The word of God is both living, and quickening. This is
implied in the figure which the prophet Isaiah employs in
the text. " As the rain cometh down from heaven, and
returneth not thither, but watereth the earth and maketh
it to bring forth and bud, so shall my word be that goeth
forth out of my mouth." This is the declaration of God
OF EVAIiGELISTIC LABOR. 403
himself, who understands the intrinsic nature of his own
Revelation ; and by it he teaches us that there is no greater
adaptedness in moisture to fructify the ground, and ger-
minate a corn of wheat, than there is in Biblical doctrine
to renew and convert a human soul.
For the truth which the evangelist scatters upon the
printed page, or teaches from his own lips, is superhu-
man. It does not originate within the sphere of man,
and man's reason. The Bible contains a mass of informa-
tion that issues from an inspired sphere and circle, and
therefore differs in kind from all other books. We know
very well the difference between the truths of mathematics,
and the truths of poetry. They proceed from two different
species of perception. The poet's intuition is so diverse
from that of the man of science, that we never confound
poetry with science. On the contrary, we know that the
one destroys the other ; and it has passed into a proverb,
that he who is made for a poet is spoiled for a mathema-
tician. From a college of savans, we do not look for a Para-
dise Lost ; and from the " laureate fraternity " of poets, we
do not expect a Mecanique Celeste. This inadequately
illustrates the immense diversity between Divine Revela-
tion, and human literature. The former issues from the
mind of God ; from an intellectual sphere infinitely higher
than that of the human mind. That inspired circle, with-
in which the Scriptures of the Old and Kew Testaments
took their origin, differed from all other intellectual cir-
cles, be they schools of religion, or of philosophy, or of
poetry, or of science, by a difference to which that between
the mind of a Milton and the mind of a Laplace is only
the faintest approximation.
This fact we need to keep in view, if we would see any
ground of certainty for the success of the Christian evan-
gelist. Unless he is commissioned to teach something that
404 THE CERTAIN SUCCESS
is superhuman ; something that did not take origin within
the sphere of earth and of man ; something that is not
found in the national literatures of the world ; he will
spend his strength for nought. The apostles of human
reason, the inventors of human systems, and their disciples,
have labored for six thousand years without radically
changing a single individual man, or converting any of the
sin and misery of earth into the holiness and happiness of
heaven ; and if the Christian herald does not go entirely
beyond their sphere, and proclaim truths from another and
higher world, he will only repeat their futile endeavor.
He must teach the word and commandments of God ; a
higher doctrine than the commandments of man, and a
wisdom superior to that of any people, Hebrew or Hin-
doo, Greek or Eoman.'
' The erroneous postulate of all rationalistic Biblical Criticism is, that
the Bible is a national literature, and not a Divine Revelation — that the
books of the Old Testament are the natural development of the Hebrew
mind as the poems of Homer, the dramas of ^schylus, and the dia-
logues of Plato are of the Greek mind. From this it follows, that Moses,
Samuel, David, and Isaiah were not above the level of their nation, but
thought, felt, and taught in harmony with the common national senti-
ment of their day. This view makes the Hebrew nation to be the real
source of the Old Testament doctrines and miracles (myths) ; and the
Hebrew Bible to be the Hebrew literature. If this be so, the Old Testa-
ment is no more infallible than the Vedas, and its antiquated truths
may fitly be compared to " Hebrew old clothes."
A recent writer who tries to retain the doctrine of the inspiration of
Scripture while surrendering that of its infallibility, adopts a modifica-
tion of this view. He says that "the nation is inspired. This is the
primary fact. The inspiration of Moses, Isaiah, or Ezekiel, is the sec-
ondary fact." (Ladd's Sacred Scripture I. 117; II. 483.) But this is
refuted by the fact, that the history of Israel is that of a continual con-
flict between the national sentiment and opinions, and the inspired doc-
trines. Tlie Old Testament Scriptures teach monotheism, the fact of
sin and guilt, and promise a spiritual and Divine Redeemer ; but the
nation, whenever left to its own natural development, substituted in
OF EVANGELISTIC LABOK. 405
In this fact, there is great encouragement to diligence
and perseverance, npon the part of every disciple of Christ,
to proclaim Divine truth in every form and manner pos-
sible. Revealed truth is immortal. It can never perish.
You may educate a child or a man by the choicest secular
methods, and may put him in communication with the
ripest lore of the ancient and the modern world ; he may
become a highly disciplined scholar, and may leave behind
him an illustrious name in the annals of literature ; but
the knowledge which he acquires, and which he transmits,
shall all pass away. "Whether there be tongues they
shall cease ; whether there be knowledge it shall pass
away." It ought to extinguish all the proud ambition of
a merely earthly scholarship, to consider how transitory
is all knowledge that is not divine, religious, and in-
spired. It is strictly true, that no truth, no doctrine,
shall abide for millenniums, shall abide for eternity, but
the truth and doctrine of God. Consider Shakespeare for
example. This was the most comprehensive, capacious,
original, creative intellect that ever inhabited a human
body. Take him all in all, he possessed more power of
intuition, and of expression, than any other human being ;
and the addition which he made to the stock of uninspired
human literature, and culture, is greater, more original,
more quickening and fertilizing to the mind of man, than
that of any other author, ancient or modern. John Dry-
den was within the bounds of moderation, when he pro-
nounced " that Shakespeare was the man who of all mod-
their place polytheism, self-righteousness, and an earthly Messiah. Had
the nation, like its small circle of " holy men," been " moved by the
Holy Ghost," there would not have been these two contradictory sys-
tems. The only reason why the Hebrew people did not become a nation
of idolaters, was the restraining presence among them of a college of in-
spired prophets and legislators — a wheel within a wheel.
406 THE CERTAIN SUCCESS
em, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most
comprehensive soul." But where will the Shakespearian
drama be, ten million years from now ? "Who will read
the play of Hamlet, marvellous as it is, in the eternal
years of God ? Far are we from despising the really grand
achievements of the human intellect, in literature, art, and
science. They have their function, and appropriate work
to perform in the education of the human race. But they
are finite, mixed with error, unrelated to the salvation and
destiny of the human soul, and therefore transitory. Ex-
cepting those elements in them which have been derived
from the eternal fountain of truth, and which therefore
harmonize with the kingdom of God, they are all of them
to disappear, when that which is perfect is come. They
are all to give place to that higher intuition, that beatific
vision of truth and of beauty, which is in reserve for the
pure in heart. And therefore it is, that human art, hu-
man science, and human knowledge — all that the fallible
and imperfect human intellect has wrought out, in these
centuries of dimness and of sin — like
" The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
shall dissolve,
And leave not a rack behind."
But not so, with Divine truth. That species of knowl-
edge which the Christian Church possesses in the Scrip-
tures of the Old and New Testaments, and of which it is
the appointed depositary and teacher, has in it nothing
fallible, nothing transitory. That Christian disciple, or
missionary, who is instrumental in teaching a single hu-
man soul, either in America or in Africa, in the ninth
century or in the nineteenth, that " God so loved the
world, that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever
OF EVANGELISTIC LABOE. 407
believeth in him might not perish, but might have ever-
lasting life," announces a truth that will be of as momen-
tous importance ten million years hence, as it is at this
very moment. Schools of literature have their day, lose
their interest, and give place to others that are subject to
the same vicissitudes. But Christian doctrines never have
their day. They are subject to no fashions. Sin is as
real and as hateful now, as it ever was. Hell is as lurid
and awful now, as when Satan and his host were hurled
into it. Tlie blood of Christ is as precious, the doc-
trine of the divine clemency is as peace-giving, now, as it
was when our Lord said to the sinful woman, " Thy sins
are forgiven." Instead of waning in truthfulness and im-
portance, the doctrines of Revelation acquire a deeper
truthfulness and a more solemn significance, as the cen-
turies roll away. Those truths relating to God, Man,
and the God-man, which the Scriptures have now made
the common heritage of the beggar on the dung-hill and
the king on the throne ; those doctrines relating to human
apostasy and human redemption, which the Church is
commanded to teach to every creature ; are the word of
God "which liveth and abideth forever;" they are the
immortal seed of a life everlasting.
Here, then, is a ground of certainty that the work of the
Christian evangelist will succeed. In lodging the truths
of the Bible in any human soul, you are placing some-
thing there which is literally eternal ; which will have the
same value millions and billions of ages from now. No
lapse of time can destroy its truthfulness, or its import-
ance. The work which you do when you put the few
pages of a tract in the hands of an unrenewed man, and
by your prayerful earnestness are instrumental in its being
wrought into the texture of his mind and heart, will
endure forever. You may build a pyramid ; but it will
408 THE CERTAIN SUCCESS
one day be part and particle of the sands that are blown
and sifted by the winds of the desert. You may com-
pose an Iliad or a Macbeth ; but it will lose its interest,
and disappear from the memory of mortals, when they
stand before the judgment-seat of God. But if you teach
to any human creature the words of Jehovah ; if you
mortise the law and the gospel into the framework of the
human mind ; you erect a structure which it is not in the
power of man, or of everlasting time, to tear down and
destroy.
Not only is Divine truth immortal in its nature, but it
can never be expelled from the mind. Teach a child or a
man, for example, the true Biblical doctrine of sin ; ^x it
in his mind that God abhors wickedness, and will punish it
everlastingly ; and you have imparted something to him
which he can never get rid of. He may lose sight of it for a
week, or a month, or a year, or ten years, but he cannot lose
sight of it for eternity. It will sooner or later, and with
more than the certainty of a planet's motion, emerge within
the horizon of his consciousness, and fill him with terror if
he is an impenitent sinner. In imparting to his mind this
truth concerning the holy nature of God, and the wicked-
ness of sin, you have imparted to him something like a
fatal secret, which will haunt and waylay the soul through
all the years of open or of secret transgression. One of
the most powerful of modern fictions ' is founded upon the
accidental discovery, by a servant, of a fatal secret belong-
ing to his master. The discovery fills his whole life with
fear and apprehension, and drives him to the borders of
insanity. He would give worlds, if he had not made that
discovery ; he would give the universe, if he could forget
it. But the secret has come to his knowledge, and he
' Godwin's Caleb Williams.
OF EVANGELISTIC LABOR. 409
cannot erase it from his memory. There is an art of re-
membering, but no art of forgetting. The secret stays
with him and by him lilco a fiend, and he cannot get
from under its black shadow. Are there not on record
many instances in which the solemn declarations and
warnings of the Divine law, which had been wrought into
the mind perhaps in earliest youth, still clung to it, and
punished it with fears and forebodings, during the after-life
of license and f orgetfulness of God ? Human knowledge
is soon forgotten ; the images of the human poet are fading
and fugitive as the colors of the frescos in the Vatican ;
but the knowledge of the Divine law, and the awful
imagery of the Scriptures relating to it, are indestructible,
and burn themselves into the texture of the soul like the
colors of encaustic tiles.
And on the other side of Revelation, all this is equally
true. The peace-speaking promises of mercy, the doctrine
of the Divine pity, of the forgiveness of sins and the
preparation for eternal life — all this portion of Divine truth
when once imparted is never again expelled. And when
in the years of sin the law makes itself felt, and the trans-
gressor is brought into consternation, the doctrines of
grace which had been conveyed to the mind many long
years ago by the Christian teacher are all that save it from
everlasting despair, and everlasting perdition. And even
if this is not the happy result, owing to the inveteracy of
vice, or the torpidity of the conscience, or the obstinacy
of the proud heart, and the soul goes into the presence of
God unforgiven, still the truths of the gospel are not ex-
pelled from the understanding. They will be a portion of
the soul's knowledge through all eternity ; the evidence
of what it might have secured, and the index of what it
has lost.
II. We argue and derive the certain success of evangel-
18
410 THE CERTAIN SUCCESS
istic labor, in the second place, from the fact that God
feels a special interest in hts own Word.
The Scriptures warrant us in asserting, that God is more
profoimdly concerned for the success of that body of truth
which he has revealed to mankind in the Scriptures, than
he is for the spread and influence of all other ideas and
truths whatsoever. This is the only species of truth which
he personally watches over, and accompanies with a Divine
influence. He leaves human knowledge to itself, to make
its own way without any supernatural aid or influence from
him ; but the doctrines of the Bible are not dismissed
from his hand with this indifference. We have seen that
they have an intrinsic adaptation to the wants and woes of
the soul, and that in this particular they possess a vast
superiority over all earthly knowledge ; but this is not their
sole, or their highest prerogative. They are not only re-
lated to man, but they are related to the Holy Ghost.
Trom the very depths of the Divine Essence, there issues
an energy that adds to the intrinsic energy of Kevelation,
and makes it a two-edged sword quick and piercing.
Powerful as the Word of God is in itself, it would fail to
touch and soften the flinty human heart, were it not that
God personally watches over it, and effectually applies it.
Men go into ecstasies over the discovery of a new fact in
science, or a fresh and original creation of the poet and
artist. There is joy and pride in all educated circles, when
a new addition is made to the literature of the nation, or
to the sum of human arts and inventions. But there is
no corresponding and equal joy in the Eternal Under-
standing, at such events. The Deity never becomes thus
profoundly interested in a poem or a painting ; in the tele-
graph or the steam-engine. The " wisdom of this world,"
we are told, is " foolishness " with him. But there is a
species of truth, a form of doctrine, in which the entire
OF EVANGELISTIC LABOR. 411
energy of the Godhead is engrossed, and whose spread and
triumph fills him with deep eternal joy. It is that which
he has deposited in the Scriptures, and has commanded his
people to teach and preach from generation to generation,
until the whole world is leavened with it.
This fact is clearly taught in the text. " My word,"
says God by his prophet, " shall not return unto me void ;
but it shall accomplish that which / please, and it shall
prosper in the thing whereto / sent it." Here is personal
interest, and personal supervision. These doctrines relat-
ing to the salvation and destiny of man, are not sent forth
from heaven lonely messengers, to make their way as they
best can. The third Person of the Trinity goes with them,
and exerts an influence through them that is undefinable,
but as almighty and irresistible, within its own sphere and
in its own way, as physical omnipotence itself. For there
is not a human heart upon the globe, whose hardness is
impenetrable to the combined operation of the "Word and
Spirit of God. There is not a human will upon the planet,
so strong and stubborn as to be able to overcome the union
of the Scriptures and the Holy Ghost.
In this fact, then, we find a second ground of certainty
of success for evangelistic labor. You may proclaim all
your days, your own ideas, or those of your fellow-men,
but you will say with Grotius, at the close of a long and
industrious career which had by no means been exclusively
devoted to humanistic learning : "I have spent my life in
laboriously doing nothing." But if you have passed your
days in teaching the unevangelized, and conveying into
their dark and blinded understandings the truths of the
law and the gospel, you may say, at the close of life, as you
sum up your work, with a clearer consciousness than that
of the pagan Horace : " I shall not wholly die. I have
erected a monument more durable than brass. I have
412 THE CEETAIN SUCCESS
taught the word of God that liveth and abideth forever,
to many human souls."
III. A third ground of certainty that evangelistic labor
will succeed, is found in the actual instances of success fur-
nished by the annals of such labor. Men are continually
writing upon the evidences of Christianity, but there is no
demonstration like that which proceeds from the practical
work of the Church and the ministry, in bringing this
religion home to the business and bosoms of men. This
was the argument which the Primitive Church employed,
to prove to the pagan the Divine origin and power of the
new religion. Christianity must be from God, argued
Justin Martyr and Tertullian, "because it makes the
voluptuous man chaste, the avaricious man liberal, the man
of cursing a man of prayer, the implacable enemy a for-
giving friend, converts wrath into gentleness, debauchery
into temperance, and vice of manifold form into manifold
virtue." The fruits evince the reality, and the quality of
the tree. There is always great force in a fact. It is tlie
element of reality. Men are realists, and they love reality
wherever they find it. In this element, lies the great
power of a certain class of poets and novelists. Why is it
that Dante, and Chaucer, and De Foe, so impinge them-
selves upon the minds of their readers, and make the same
kind of impression upon them that is made by actually
going through the wards of a hospital, or over the acres
of a battle-field, or out into the warm sunlight of a June
landscape ? It is because of the intense realism, the matter
of fact, that pervades the poem or the novel. It is a work
of the imagination, so far as plot and costume are concerned,
but the imagination is employed with such stern and intense
truthfulness, that all fanciful and unnatural qualities are
purged out, and the result is a product that is veritable
like actual life, and actual experience itself. Kobinson
OF EVANGELISTIC LABOK. 413
Crusoe is the prodnct of the imagination, and yet every
reader knows and feels that it is as real as his own daily
existence. But when we pass from poetry and fiction, to
the very life itself of man — to the tears which we see him
drop, to the pain and bereavements which we see him suf-
fer, and to the joys which we see mantling upon his coun-
tenance— we understand still better how powerful is plain
truth and reality.
Now we find what we may call the realism of Chris-
tianity, in the evangelizing operations of the Church. So
long as we know the gospel only by book and theory, we
do not know it in its most impressive and convincing form.
A Church, or an age of the Church, that carries on no mis-
sionary work, will be liable to latent and increasing skep-
ticism. The facts and forces of Christianity do not smite
upon it, and make the gospel real. Suppose that I have
never myself felt the revolutionizing power of Christian-
ity, or have never seen an instance of it in another person :
will not the theoretical belief which I may have in this
religion be likely to wane away, in the lapse of time ? If a
power is not exerted, we begin to doubt its existence. And
if an individual or a Church witnesses no effusions of the
Spirit, and no actual conversions of the human soul, it will
inevitably begin to query whether there be any Holy Ghost,
and whether the gospel is anything more than ethics.
This has occurred in the history of the Church. The
eighteenth century in England was an age of infidelity
outside of the Church, and of very inadequate faith within
it. And it was because the Christian religion showed little
of its power, in visibly converting and transforming the
human soul. Men were not actually born again, and it
was an easy and ready conclusion that the doctrine of the
new birth is fanaticism. And whenever this notion enters
either the individual or the general mind, unbelief in the
414 THE CEETAIN SUCCESS
essential and energetic truths of Christianity comes in
apace. The same remark holds true of the German
Church. Its rationalism, which has exerted so wide an
influence, was the consequence of a decline of faith in
evangelical doctrines ; and this decline of faith in evan-
gelical doctrines was owing very greatly to the absence of
striking impressions from these doctrines. In the age
of the Reformation, the popular mind felt the truth of
such dogmas as original sin, and forgiveness through aton-
ing blood. These truths evinced their power in thousands
of actual instances, and therefore they could not be dis-
puted or denied. But when the energy and fervor of the
Reformation period had declined, and men within the vis-
ible Church itself lived on from year to year with little or
no consciousness of the corruption of the heart, and of the
pacifying efficacy of Christ's blood and righteousness, it
was no wonder that the dogmatic belief of the Church
should change, and in the place of the warm evangelism
of Luther, there should rise the cold rationalism of Paulus
and Wegscheider.
In the actual success, then, of endeavors to convert the
Bouls of men, we find the striking instances, the matters of
fact, the living Christian verities, that brace up our de-
clining faith, and warm our cooling piety. The preacher
goes into a destitute town upon the borders of our Western
or our Southern country, teaches the condemning law, and
proclaims the saving gospel, to a soul steeped in sin. His
prayer of faith, and labor of love, are rewarded and crowned
with the descent and personal presence of the Holy Ghost.
That soul is converted. It undergoes a revolution as great
and momentous as that by which Adam fell ; for regen-
eration is as great a change as apostasy. That fact, that
actual exertion of Divine power, is known in the heavens,
and the angels rejoice over it ; and it enters into the ar-
OF EVANGELISTIC LABOR. 415
chives of the Church here upon earth, and exerts an influ-
ence. It is another instance of the actual exercise of per-
sonal power on the part of God the Redeemer, and tends
to deepen and strengthen the faith of Christians in that
species of power, wherever it is known. But the annals of
missions are full of such instances, so that from year to
year an intense and mighty Christian realism is issuing
out from all evangelizing enterprises, and by a reflex action
is refreshing the faith, and consolidating the doctrine of
the Churches that set them in motion.
The power of Biblical truth even when not proclaimed by
the voice of the evangelist is continually receiving demon-
stration, from this same source. The records of Bible and
Ti-act Societies are full of instances in which the bare text
of Scripture led to the conversion of a human soul. Con-
sider the following. A distributor gave a tract to a young
man, accompanying it with some words expressive of a
serious and affectionate desire for his salvation. The
young man, upon the departure of the missionary, threw
the pages into the fire; but as they curled up in the
flame, his eye caught the words : " Heaven and earth
shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away." As
these words turned to ashes in the fire, they turned to fire
in his mind. He found no rest, until he found it in the
blood of atonement. Now, this was an actual occurrence.
It is not a story invented for the purpose of exciting in-
terest in the mind of a reader or a hearer. There is not
the slightest mingling of imaginative elements in it. That
thirty-first verse of the thirteenth chapter of St. Mark's
gospel was thus impressed upon the mind and conscience
of a human being, in a certain section of space, and at a
certain point of time. The time and the place could have
been specified under oath. Lord Bacon, in laying down
the rules by which the materials for composing a history
416 THE CERTAIN SUCCESS
should be collected, says : " We would have our first his-
tory written with the most religious particularity, as
though upon oath as to the truth of every syllable ; for it
is a volume of God's works, and, as far as the majesty of
things divine can brook comparison with the lowliness
of earthly objects, is, as it were, a second Scripture." Of
this kind are the materials that are collected and edited by
the evangelizing associations of the Church ; and of this
kind is this incident which we have recited. And it de-
monstrates that there is a converting power accompanying
divine truth, similarly as an explosion proves that there is
an explosive power in gunpowder. How much more vivid
is such an evidence of Christianity as this, than many of
the volumes that have been written for the laudable pur-
pose of demonstrating the divinity of the Christian Re-
ligion. We by no means undervalue or disparage that
fine body of apologetic literature, which the attacks of in-
fidelity have called forth, from the second century to
the nineteenth. But we do affirm that it all needs to be
filled out, and corroborated, by the actual instances in
which Divine truth and the Divine Spirit have exerted
their power. When the doctrines of the gospel evince
themselves to be mighty, by showing their might, and trans-
forming, by actually producing transformations ; when
the theory is verified by the stubborn fact ; we have the
perfection of evidence. This is what the evangelistic
agencies of Christendom are doing. By their steady,
quiet, oftentimes subterranean labors among the poor, the
ignorant, and the vicious of teeming populations, and by
the record in their annals of what God has wrought
through their instrumentality, they are proving to the
doubter and the skeptic that God is personally interested
in his own word and watches over it ; that there is a se-
cret spiritual energy at work, of which they know nothing.
OF EVAISTGELISTIC LABOR. 417
God is hiding himself from the glare and tinsel of a luxu-
rious civilization, but he is revealing himself to "the
poor of this world, rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom
which he hath promised to them that love him." As we
look over the surface of society, we do not find the strong-
est evidence that God is present among his creatures, and
is interested in them, in the fact that he is raining down
upon them physical happiness and prosperity. He indeed
comes near to man in these methods of his providence,
and this providential care and goodness should lead to re-
pentance. But the closeness of his proximity to man, is
seen chiefly in the operations and methods of his grace.
When he says to a soul : " Thy sin is forgiven thee," he
comes infinitely closer and nearer to his creature, than when
the corn and wine are increased. ]^ay, how do I know
that there is a God ; how do I know it with living cer-
tainty • unless he touches me, and moves me to cry : " My
Father, my Heavenly Father?" Carefully scrutinized,
there is no argument for the Divine existence and agency
in this lower world, that is equal to the very sense of God,
and feeling of God, which is granted to a soul when it
mourns over sin, and experiences pardoning mercy. "I
have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now
mine eye seeth thee," may be said of the Christian's con-
scious faith, as contrasted with the worldling's hearsay be-
lief.
There is no surer evidence that the truths of the
gospel are destined to prevail, than the fact that they do
prevail. Only as the individual Christian, and the Church
at large, feel the influence of the ocular demonstration of
the power of the gospel, will they know that evangelistic
labor is not ^e spilling of water upon the ground which
cannot be gathered up again ; is not the eternal drawing
of water in a sieve ; is not the everlasting rolling of the
18*
418 THE CERTAIN SUCCESS
stone to the verge of the summit, and its everlasting fall-
ing back to the abyss.
We have thus argued the certaintv that all evangelistic
labor will succeed, from the nature of the truth which is pro-
claimed ; from the fact that God himself watches over and
effectually applies it; and from the actual examples of suc-
cess which fill tlie annals of the Church. He who teaches, or
is instrumental in teaching, the law and the gospel, teaches
a truth that is superhuman in its origin and nature, and in-
eradicable from the rational mind. He who teaches, or is
instrumental in teaching, the law and the gospel, teaches
the only truth in which the Godhead is profoundly in-
terested, and the only truth which He accompanies with
a supernatural energy and influence. And he who teaches,
or is instrumental in teaching, the law and the gospel, will
see the truth accomplishing its purpose, and doing its
blessed work before his very eyes.
From the subject as thus discussed, we infer the duty of
great courage^ and confidence^ in the work of evangelizing
men. "We have seen that there is a strong and settled
foundation for such a feeling upon the part of the Church.
God himself has laid it in promises, oaths, and blood. If,
therefore, we would possess it, and feel its inspiriting in-
fluence, we must look intently and continually at \h.Q foun-
dation. We must keep in mind, the superhuman quality
of Divine truth, the profound interest of God in it, and
the fact that it is making progress and conquests. When
an individual Christian is cast down and dispirited by
doubts respecting his good estate, we bid him look at the
ol)ject of faith, and not lose sight of his Redeemer in his
sight of himself. In like manner, if the Church would
be courageous and confident in this immense^vork of home
and foreign evangelization, she must cease to dwell upon
the difficulties and obstacles, and look intently and solely
OF EVANGELISTIC LABOR. 419
at the power and promise of God. Too many Christians,
from year to year, contribute of their substance, and even
of their labors, and put up supplications for the conversion
of the world, in a half -despairing temper. It is their duty ;
and they perform it with something of the hireling's spirit,
who looks longingly for the going down of the sun that
the unwelcome task may be over. They forget the al-
mightiness of the Being in whose service they are em-
ployed, and whose plans they are carrying out. When
that eminent and successful missionary. Dr. Morrison, some
fifty years ago, was about to sail to China, the kind-hearted
but unbelieving merchant who had offered him a passage
in one of his vessels, with good-humored raillery said to
him : " And so you really expect to make an impression
upon tl}e Chinese Empire." " No, sir, but I expect that
God will," was the calm and confident response. In that
spirit he labored, and in that sign he conquered. He did
not himself see the conversion of the Chinese race ; but
that sight is as certainly destined to bless the vision of the
Christian Church at the time appointed by God, as Enke's
or Biela's comet is destined to be a reappearing meteor
in the heavens.' If the planets are punctual, and dawn
upon our vision with certainty and regularity, though we
do nothing towards wheeling them in their orbits, think
you that tJie conversion of nations and races for which the
promise of God is pledged, and for which the blood of in-
carnate God has been spilt, will fail ? Let us take this
lofty. Biblical theory of missions, and we shall be confident
and courageous. Look not at the hardness of the human
heart, but look at the hammer and the fire that break it
in pieces. I^ook not at the stubborn will and the carnal
' "Behold these shall come from far ; and lo, these from the north
and from the west ; and these from the land of Sinim." Isa. xlix. 12.
420 THE CERTAIN SUCCESS
mind, but look at Jehovah who says : " I will take away
the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a
heart of flesh." Look not with a despairing vision upon
the hundreds of millions that are outside of Christendom ;
upon the tens of millions within Christendom who never
open a Bible or enter the house of God ; upon the crowded
streets and alleys of vast cities, in themselves as horrid and
hopeless as the lazar-house which Milton describes — look
not at this immense mass of human sin and misery, but
look to Him who died for it all, who has power to pardon
and purify it all, and who commands you to scatter the
good seed of the word broadcast, and trust Him for the
harvest.
The same law prevails in the larger sphere of missions,
that rules in the individual experience. There mi;st be a
ceasing to look at the creature, and an absorbing, empower-
ing looking to the Creator and Redeemer. No sinner ob-
tains peace, until he sees that the Divine clemency is
greater than his sins. So long as his sins look larger than
the Divine mercy, so long he must despair. Precisely
so is it with efforts to save the souls of men. The Church
will not be instrumental in evangelizing the globe, unless
it believes that God the Holy Spirit is more mighty than
man's corruption. So long as the work looks too great to
be accomplished ; so long as the ignorance, vice, brutality,
and apathy, of the sinful masses all around seem insuper-
able by any power human or divine ; so long there will
be no courageous and confident labor for human welfare.
ISTot a missionary would ever have gone upon his errand
of love, had his eye been taken from God, and fixed solely
upon man, and man's hopeless condition. Think you that
the apostles would have started out from the little corner of
Palestine, to convert the whole Grseco-Roman world to a
new religion, if their vision had been confined to earth ?
OF EVANGELISTIC LABOR. 421
Apart from the power and promise of God, the preaching
of such a religion as Christianity, to such a population as
that of paganism, is the sheerest Quixotism. It crosses
all the inclinations, and condemns all the pleasures of
guilty man. The preaching of the gospel finds its justifica-
tion, its wisdom, and its triumph, only in the attitude and
relation which the infinite and almighty God sustains to
it. It is His religion, and therefore it must ultimately
become a universal religion.
Go forth, then, to evangelistic labor of any and every
variety, with cheerfulness, with courage, and with con-
fidence. And when the vastness and difficulty of the
work threaten to discourage, and dishearten you, look away
entirely from earth and man's misery, to God's throne, and
recall his own word which is settled in heaven : " My
thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my
ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than
the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my
thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain cometh
down and the snow from heaven, and returneth not
thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth
and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to
the eater ; so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my
mouth : it shall not return unto me void ; but it shall ac-
complish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the
thing whereto I sent it."
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