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c  iitfV,  t.  •? 


HARVARD 
COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 


THEOLOGY ; 


EXPLAINED  AND   DEFENDED, 


SERIES  OF  SERMONS; 


TIMOTHY  DWir.HT,  S.  T.  D.  LL.  D 


LATE  PRESIDENT  OF  YALB  COLLKGB- 


MEMOIR 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


m  FOUR  VOLUMEa 


fflNTH  EDITION. 


NEW  HAVEN: 

PUBLISHED  BY  T.  DWIGHT  4.  SON, 

AND   SOLD   BY   LEAVITT,   LORD   &  CO, 


Cn 


n 


1 


[Enured  iccardinctoAciofCantreu.) 


I 


ttOK  h.  llEWtn».^filmiM. 


CONTENTS  OF  THE  THIRD  TOLU 


•ERBlON  LXXXVII.  Regcn 


.  IS. 


lis  CoiueqacDies :  Fer>«veraace 
.    1(9  evidences  :   WUtt  are  nol  E 


What  ■ 


lending  the 


SERMON  LXXXVlIt.  Regcne 

il((ice». — S  Cot.  vii.  b. 
SERMON  LXXXIX.   Kegenemlion.     lis  Evidence 

dencu- — 3  Cor.  liil.  6.       - 
SERMON  XC.  Re^neralimt.    Id  Evidences  :    DifficutlicB 

^licBlion  of  these  Evidences  to  ourselves.— S  Cor.  ilji. 
SEIUION  XCt.  The  Law  of  God.   lis  Perfect  CbaiBcter  :    Comprehended 

In  the  Two  Great  Cummandnienta. — Fmlm  xii.  7.  •  • 

SERMON  XCII.  TheLBwofGod.  The  First  Great  Commaiidmeal :  Love 

to  OoA^Mark  iil  26—30. 

SERMON  Xail.  The  Law  of  God.  The  First  Great  Commsndmeiit:  Rev- 

crence  of  God. — Job  iiviii.  38.  .  .  .  .  . 

SERMON  XCIV,  The  Law  of  God.    The  First  Great  Commandment :  Hn- 


Biliiy- 


Ptt.y 


SERMON  XCV.  The  Law  of  Gnd.    The  First  Great  Commandmeilt :  Re- 

lignation.— lu^t  Xiii.  41, 4i        -  -  -  -  -  -'     97 

JERMOn  XCVI.  The  Law  of  Gud.    Tbe  Second  Great  CommandineDt : 

LoTB  to  our  Neighbour.— .VortiJL  31.  -  -  -  •110 

SERMON  XCril.  The  LnwofGod.     The  Second  Greit  Commandmeat : 

The  Effects  of  Benevolence  on  Personal  Happiness.-Jclj  xi.  35.        -    121 
SERMON  XCV1II.  The  Law  of  God.    The  SecDod  Great  Command  men  I : 

The  Effecli  of  Benevolence  bn  Public  Happinesi.— ,dd(  ii.  3G.  .     ]3S 

SERMON  XCIX.  The  Law  of  God.    The  Second  Great  Commsnitment : 

Dlilii;  tlie  Foundation  of  Virtue.— Jcli  ii,  35.  •  •  -     160 

SERMON  C.  The  Law  of  God.    Comprehended  in  the  Decalogue  :    The 

Pint  CommandmenL — Ex,  ii.  3.  •  •  •  .  103 

SCRMON  CI.  The  Law  of  God.    The  Second  Commandment.— £z.  i«. 

4— «. 174 

SERMON  CII.  The  Law  of  God.    The  Third  CommendmeDt :  The  Na- 
ture of  Profaneness.- £i.  ii.  7.  ■  -  .  -  -     IBS 
SERMON  cm.  The  Law  of  God.    The  Third  Commandment :  The  Gnilt 

•rProfaneoesi.— El,  i».  7.         -  •  -  -  -  -    1P9 

SOtHON  CIV.  The  Law  of  God.  The  Third  Commandment :  The  Danger 

•f  Prafaoeness. — Ex.  ii.  7.  -  •  -  .    211 

SERMON  CV.  The  Foorth  CommsndmenL     The  Perpetait;  of  the  Sab- 

balh.— fir.  M.  e—ll.       -----..    223 
SERMON  CVL  The  Fourth  Commandment.    The  Perpstnity  and  Change 

of  Ihe  Sabbslh^-Ei.  IX.  8— It.  -  -  .  .  .333 

SnUON  CVIL  TbeFourthCommandment.   Objections  answered.— ift£. 

t»  •. Ml 


4  C0ITTENT9. 

F^ 
BERMON  CVin.  The  Foarth  CommBndinenl.   The  Manner  in  whkh  the 

SubbBth  is  10  be  obierved.— />.  1v)ii.  IS,  14.        -  -  -  -St 

lERMONCtX.  The  Fourth  Commaudmeiil.  Reaeetlonsonlhe  Ssbbatb.— 

Ei.  «.  n. ar 

lERMON  ex.  The  Fifth  CommHridment,    The  Dutf  of  Cbildreo.— £z. 

11.  12. Si 

SERMON  CXT.  The  Fifth  Commandmenl.    The  Duty  of  FareDti.— Pror. 

iiii.  6. 'a 

SERMON  CXII.  The  Fifth  Command  merit.    The  Duty  of  PMeBta— Pros. 

iiii.flL 8 

SERMON  CXIU.  The  Fifth  Commandment.    The  Duly  of  Buletj.— £*. 

11.12. a 

BERMON  CXIV.  The  Fifth  CommgndmenL    The  Duty  of  Subject].— Ez. 

II.  12 3: 

SERMON  CXV.  The  Siith  CommandmenL— Kitliog ;  when  Lawful ;  and 

when  Unlaivful.— El.  ii.  13. » 

SERMON  CXVI.  The  Sixlb  Com m and m em.    Duelling.— Ex.  ii.  13.         •  a 

SERMON  CXVII.  The  Siilh  CommRndrDenl.     Suicide._£z.  ii.  13.  3 

SERMON  CXV[[I.  The  Ei^lh  Commandmenl.  Druukenncsj.— I^A.  v.  18.  3 
SERMON  CXIX.  The  Seventh  Commandmenl.    The  Origin,  Nature,  and 

BeneBlsof  Marriage.— £z.  II.  14.           -           -           -           -           -  3 

SERMON  CXX.  The  Seventh  Commandmenl.  Lewdness.— Ei.  ii.  14.  4 
SERMON  CXXI.  The    Si-venlh  Comman,lmi-nl.      PolygBmy,    Divorce.— 

JlfdH.  lii.  3— 11.                  -             - 4 

.SERMON  CXXil.  The  Eighth  Comm,i...:iii"tLi.    Idleness.    Prodigalilv.— 

Ejt.  II.  16. 4 

SERMON  CXXnl.  The  Eighth  Commandment.     Fraud— Et.  h.  16.  4 

SERMON  CXXIV.  The  Eighth  Commandmenl.  Gaming.- El.  n.  IS.  4 
SERMO^  CXXV.  The  Ninth  CommaDdment.    Tbe  Nature  and  Importance 

ofTfulhanil  Veraiity— £t,  11. 16.  -  -  -  -  -  4 
SERMON  CXXVI.  The  Ninth  Commandment     The  Ntlure  and  Caosei  of 

Lying.-Ei.  «.  18. 4 

SERMON  CXXVII..  The  Ninth  Commandment     The  Hiichiefi  and  Pre- 

venlivea  of  Lying.— £i.  ii.  16.                 -             -             -             -             -  4 

■SERMON  CXXVUI.  The  Ninth  Commandmenl.     Slander.- Ei.  li.  16.  6 

SERMON  CXXIX   The  Tenth  Commandment.     ContentmenL- Ei.  ii.  IT.  S 

SERMON  CXXX.  The  Tenlh  Commandment.     Charily.- 1  Tim.  vi.  17—19.  £ 

SERMON  CXXXI.  The  Tenth  Commandment.     Avarice.— 1  Tim.  vi.  9,  in.  S 


i 


SERMON  LXXXVn. 


COVSBQUEVCES   OF   REGENERATION.— PERSBVXBAirCB. 


VmoTiMBi  iv.  18. — The  paih  ofthejutt  is  at  the  ihining  li^^  fohieh  Ainetk  mom 

ana  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 

In  the  preceding  discourse  I  observed  that  the  text  naturally 
teaches  us  tne  following  doctrines  : 

I.  That  the  holiness  of  the  Christian  is  a  beautiful  object  ^ 

II.  That  it  increases  as  he  advances  in  life} 
III*   That  it  continues  to  the  end. 

The  two  first  of  these  doctrines  I  have  already  examined.  I 
will  now  proceed  to  a  consideration  of  the  third. 

As  this  doctrine  has  been,  and  still  is,  vigorously  disputed ;  it 
will  be  necessary  to  make  it  the  subject  of  a  particular  examina- 
tion. In  doin^  this  I  shall  first  adduce  several  arguments  as  a 
direct  proof  ot  the  doctrine ;  and  shall  then  answer  the  principal 
objections. 

1st*  //  is  irrational  to  suppose,  tliat  God  would  leave  a  warkj  io^ 
wards  which  so  much  has  been  done,  unaccomplished* 

To  effectuate  the  salvation  of  such  as  believe  in  Christ,  God  has 
sent  him,  to  become  incarnate,  to  live  a  life  of  humiliation  and  suf- 
fering, and  to  die  upon  the  cross.     He  has  raised  him  from  the 
dead,  exalted  him  at  his  own  right  hand,  and  constituted  him,  at 
ODce,  an  Intercessor  for  his  children,  and  the  Head  over  all  things 
unto  the  Church.     He  has  also  sent  the  Spirit  of  grace,  to  com- 
plete, by  his  almighty  energy,  this  work  of  infinite  mercy,  in  sanc- 
tifying, enlightening,  and  quickening,  the  soul,  and  conducting  it 
to  heaven.     Now,  let  me  ask.  Is  it  not  in  the  nature  of  the  case 
incredible,  that  Jehovah  should  conunence,  and  carry  on,  this 
work,  wnth  such  an  amazing  apparatus  of  labour  and  splendour, 
and  leave  it  unfinished.'  Is  it  not  mcrcdible,  that  an  Omniscient  and 
Omiii potent  Being  should  form  a  purpose  of  this  nature;  should 
discover  in  this  wonderful  manner,  that  he  had  it  so  much  at  heart; 
and  should  yet  suffer  himself  to  be  frustrated  in  the  end  ?    Who 
can  reconcile  this  supposition  with  the  perfections  of  God  ? 

2dly.  The  continuance  of  saints  in  holifUii  follows  irresistibly 
from  their  Election. 

Ii  is  unnecessar}'  for  the  purposes  of  this  discourse,  that  I  should 
.inquire  into  the  metaphysical  nature  of  Election.  It  is  sufiicient 
for  my  design,  that  samts  are  declared,  abundantly  throughout  the 
Scriptures,  to  be  chosen  of  God.  Thus,  Rev.  xvii.  14,  the  Aneel 
declares  to  John  concerning  the  followers  of  the  Lamb,  that  tMy 


G  PERSETERANCE.  [SER.  LXXXVIL 

art  called^  choseuj  andfaithftd.  Thus,  Luke  xviii.  7,  Christ,  speak- 
'iDg  of  his  followers,  says,  And  shall  not  God  avenge  his  own  elect ^ 
TT  chosen  ?  Thus  St.  Patdj  Rom.  viii.  33,  Who  shall  lay  any  thing 
o  the  charge  of  God^s  elect F  Thus  St.  Peter^  in  his  first  Epistle, 
diap.  2d,  and  verse  9thy  Ye  are  a  chosen  generation:  and  thus, 
throughout  the  Scriptures. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  that  this  appellation  is  given  to  Chris- 
lans  universally.  In  the  passages,  already  quoted,  it  is  plain,  that 
'he  names  elect  and  chosen,  which,  you  know,  are  the  same  in  the 
3rrcek,  are  equivalent  to  Saints  or  Christians^  and  accordingly  are 
iddresscd  to  them  without  distinction.  The  same  observation  is, 
irith  the  same  truth,  applicable  to  the  numerous  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture, in  which  this  language  is  adopted. 

Of  all  these  persons  it  is  often  said,  that  they  were  chosen  from 
the  beginning ;  or  from  before  the  foundation  of  the  world.  Thus 
St.  Paul,  2  Thcss.  ii.  13,  addressing  the  members  of  that  Church, 
•ajs,  God  hath  from  the  beginning  chosen  you  to  salvation,  through 
tanctification  of  the  Spirit,  and  belief  of  the  truth.  Thus  also, 
ISph.  i.  4,  the  same  Apostle,  addressing  the  Christians  at  Ephesusj 
says,  According  as  he  hath  chosen  us  in  him  ;  that  is,  Christ ;  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  that  we  should  be  holy,  and  wif.houi 
blame,  before  him  in  love^  Having  predestinated  us  unto  the  adop* 
tion  of  children,  by  Jesus  Christ,  to  himself,  according  to  the  good 
pleasure  of  A?>  will.  From  these  passages,  and  from  many  others 
of  similar  import,  it  is  clear,  that  Christians  arc  chosen  by  God 
unto  salvation  from  the  beginning;  or  from  before  the  foundation  oj 
ike  zoorld.  But  can  it  be  supposed,  that  a  purpose  of  God,  thus 
forme  I,  will  be  frustrated?  As  this  is  declared  of  Christians,  as 
such;  ii  is  evident,  that  it  is  alike  applicable  to  all  Christians. 
If,  thcrerore,  any  Christian  ceases  to  be  holy;  this  purpose  of 
God,  solemnly  adopted,  and  declared,  will  in  one  instance  oe  frus- 
trated ;  and  in  every  instance,  in  which  this  event  takes  place. 
Thus  far,  then,  God  will  be  finally  disappointed  of  one  end  of  his 

S^verririieiit,  really  proposed  by  him,  and  expressly  announced  to 
e  Univorse.     Who  can  believe  this  concerning  the  Creator? 

3dly.  If  Christians  continue  not  in  holiness  unto  the  end,  the 
fnterci  yslon  of  Christ  will  be  frustrated. 

In  John  xvii,  20,  Christ,  after  having  prayed  for  his  Apostles, 
says,  \rv-r  20th,  Neither  pray  I  for  these  alone,  but  for  thtm  also, 
who  sJ-cil  believe  on  me  through  their  word;  that  they  all  may  be 
one;  c  than,  Father,  art  in  me,  and  I  in  thee:  that  they  also  may  be 
one  in  />.  In  this  petition,  Christ  prays  the  Father,  that  all  those, 
who  s:io;il(l  believe  on  him  through  the  word  of  the  Apostles ;  that 
is,  all  * -iiristians;  may  become  partakers  of  that  divine  union, 
which,  'ii  the  heavens,  is  the  most  perfect  created  resemblance  of 
the  in- tl-ihlc  union  of  the  Father  and  the  Son.  If,  then,  any  Chris- 
tian fill  Is  ( f  sharing  in  this  union,  the  prayer  of  Christ,  here  recited, 
will  not  be  answered. 


SER.  LXXXVa]  PERSEVfiRANCS.  7 

4thly.  If  the  holiness  of  Christians  does  not  continue  latto  the 
end,  the  joy  of  Heaven  over  their  conversion  is  groundless^  and  in 
vain. 

O'jr  Saviour  informs  us,  that  there  is  joy  over  one^  that  is,  over 
every,  dinner  that  repentethj  more  than  over  ninety  and  nine  just 
persons^  who  need  no  repentance.  No  error  exists  m  heaven. 
All  the  perceptions  of  its  inhabitants  are  accordant  with  truth:  all 
their  emotions  are  founded  in  truth.  The  joy,  excited  there  by 
the  continuance  of  ninety  and  nine  Just  persons  who  need  no  re* 
pcntiiicc,  (that  is,  persons  perfectly  just)  in  their  holiness,  is  a  J07, 
foun.i?d  on  the  everlasting  holiness  of  these  persons,  and  the  ev^^ 
erlasting  happiness,  by  which  it  is  inseparably  attended.  The  joy,  ^ 
excited  by  the  repentance  of  a  sinner,  is,  however,  greater  than 
even  this.  As  this  is  unconditionally  asserted  by  Christ ;  it  is  un- 
necessary for  me,  in  the  present  case,  to  inquire  into  the  reasons 
of  the  fact.  But  a  joy,  excited  by  the  repentance  of  a  sinner, 
whose  everlasting  holiness,  and  consequent  everlasting  happiness, 
is  uncertain ;  nay,  who  may  never  be  holy,  nor  happy,  at  all,  be* 
yond  the  first  and  feeblest  efibrts  and  enjoyments  01  a  Christian 
in  his  infantine  state  ;  cannot  be  founded  m  truth,  nor  dictated  by 
wisdoni.  Nay,  it  cannot  be  accordant  with  common  sense.  Upon 
the  plan  here  adopted,  the  object,  on  which  this  joy  is  founded,  al- 
thoagh  a  penitent  to-day,  may  be'  a  reprobate  lD*mofrow ;  may 
thus  finally  lose  both  his  holiness  and  his  happiness ;  and,  becom- 
ing a  more  guilty,  may  of  course  become  a  more  miserable  wretch^ 
than  if  he  had  never  repented.  In  this  case,  there  would  be,  upon 
the  whole,  no  foundation  for  joy  at  all ;  and  the  inhabitants  of  heav- 
en would,  in  many  instances,  instead  of  rejoicing  rationally,  and 
on  solid  grounds,  be  merely  tantalized  by  the  expectation  01  good, 
which  they  were  never  to  realize. 

What,  in  this  case,  would  be  the  conduct  of  rational  men  in  the 
present  world?  We  have  instances  enough  of  their  conduct,  in 
cases  substantially  of  a  similar  nature,  to  furnish  us  with  an  unerr- 
ing answer  to  this  question.  They  would,  as  in  all  cases  of  such 
uncertainty  they  actually  do,  indulge  a  timorous,  trembling  hope, 
that  the  case  might  end  well ;  that  the  penitent  might  persevere, 
and  finally  become  safe.  They  would  experience  a  degree  of 
satisfaction,  that  this  first  step  had  been  taken,  because  it  was  in- 
disp>cnsable  to  the  rest,  and  would  feel  a  continual, anxious  suspense, 
lest  others,  equally  indispensable,  should  not  follow.  What  wise 
and  gr>od  men  in  this  world  would  feel  on  such  an  occasion,  wiser 
and  oettcr  men  in  the  world  to  come  must  of  necessity  also  feel  5 
and  feel  much  more  intensely ;  because  they  comprehend  the  sub- 
ject in  a  manner  so  much  clearer,  juster,  and  more  perfect.  Of 
course  their  suspense,  their  anxiety,  must  exist  in  a  far  higher  de- 
gree. Such  a  suspense,  such  an  anxiety,  must,  one  would  think, 
embitter  even  the  happiness  of  heaven. 


8  PERSkTERAlf  CC.  fSER.  LXXXVn^ 

Frustrated  cncpectations  of  ff^i  good,  also,  arc,  in  this  worlds 
sources  of  extreme  sorrow.  The  same  fact  must  in  that  benev- 
olent world  be  a  source  of  the  same  sorrow.  But  how  often, 
according  to  this  scheme,  must  such  expectations  be  there  frus- 
trated !  Can  this  be  reconcilable  with  a  state  of  unmingled  hap- 
piness ? 

5thly.  That  the  holiness  of  Christians  should  not  continue  to  the 
end^  is  inconsistent  with  many  Scriptural  declarations* 

We  know  J  saith  St.  John^  that  we  have  passed  from  death  unto 
lifcj  because  we  love  the  brethren*  1  John  iii.  14.  It  is  impossible 
for  any  person  to  know,  that  he  has  passed  from  death  unto  life, 
unless  he  has  actually  thus  passed.  But  St.  John  declares,  that 
himself,  and  such  other  Christians  as  love  the  brethren,  have  this 
knowledge ;  or,  perhaps  more  conformably  with  the  Apostle's  real 
design,  ail  Christians  know  this,  who  know,  that  they  love  tjje  breth- 
ren. The  love  of  the  brethren  is  certain,  absolute  proof,  that  all 
those,  in  whom  it  exists,  have  passed  from  death  unto  life.  And 
this  proof  exists,  whether  perceived  by  him,  who  is  the  subject  of 
this  love,  or  not  perceived.  But  every  Christian  loves  the  brethren ; 
and  that,  from  the  moment  in  which  he  becomes  a  Christian. 
Every  Christian,  therefore,  has  actually  passed  from  death  unto 
life.  This,  however,  cannot  be  true,  unless  every  Christian  per- 
severes in  holiness  unto  the  end.  Every  Christian  does,  therefore, 
persevere. 

Being  confident,  says  St*  Paul,  of  this  very  thing,  that  he  which 
hath  begun  a  good  work  in  you,  will  perform  it  until  the  day  of  Jesus 
Christ*  The  word  here  rendered  perform,  signifies  to  finish,  or 
complete*  St.  Paul  was  confident,  therefore,  that  the  Spirit  of  God, 
who  had  begun  a  good  work,  viz.  the  work  of  sanctification,  in  the 
Philippian  Christians,  would  continue  to  complete  it  by  various 
steps,  until  it  was  brought  to  perfection.  But  St*  Paul,  under  the 
influence  of  inspiration,  could  not  mistake  concerning  this  sub- 
ject. His  confidence  was  founded  in  tiiith.  The  work,  begun  in 
the  Philippian  Christians,  was  completed*  Of  course  it  will  be  com- 
pleted in  all  other  Christians. 

Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  says  our  Saviour,  He  that  heareth 
my  word,  and  believeth  on  him  that  sent  me,  hath  everlasting  life, 
and  shall  not  come  into  condemnation ;  but  is  (hath)  passed  from 
death  unto  life*  John  v.  24.  In  this  passage  it  is  declared,  that  he 
that  heareth  the  word  of  Christ,  and  believeth  on  him,  by  whom  he 
was  sent,  has  passed  from  death  unto  life*  What  is  meant  by  this 
phrase  is  also  decisively  explained,  when  it  is  said,  "  Every  such 
person  hath  everlasting  life ;"  and  when  it  is  fiirther  said,  "  He 
shall  not  come  into  condemnation."  But  every  Christian,  when  he 
becomes  a  Christian,  hears  the  words  of  Christ,  and  believes  on  him 
that  sent  him.  Therefore  every  Christian  has  everlasting  life,  and 
shall  not  come  into  condemnation;  but  has  already  passed  from: 
death  unto  life* 


SOL  LXXXYD.]  PERSEVERANCS.  9 

Declarations  of  the  same  import  abomid  m  the  Scriptures.  It 
cannot  be  necessary  to  multiply  cniotations  any  farther.  If  these 
are  not  believed,  none  will  be  believed. 

6thly.  The  doctriruj  against  which  I  contend^  is  inconsistent  with 
many  Scriptural  promHes. 

Such  a  promise  is  contained  in  the  passage  last  recited.  Hi  thai 
heareth  my  wordj  and  believeth  on  him  that  sent  me^  shall  n&t  comt 
into  condemnation* 

Another  is  contained  in  the  following  words,  John  vi.  37,  Hkn 
that  Cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  Every  Christian  has 
come  to  Christ,  in  the  very  sense  of  this  passage.  Should  he,  then, 
be  rejected  afterward,  he  would  be  as  really  cast  out,  as  if  rejected 
at  first;  and  the  promise  would  not  be  pertormed. 

Another  example  of  the  same  nature  is  foimd  in  Mark  xvi.  16, 
He  that  believethy  and  is  baptized,  shall  be  saved*  Every  Christiaa 
has  believed :  every  Christian  will  therefore  be  saved. 

Another  is  found  in  John  x.  27,  28,  My  sheep  hear  my  voice,  and 
Iknozo  them,  and  they  follow  me :  And  I  give  unto  them  eternal  life  } 
and  they  shall  never  perish^  neither  shall  any  pluck  them  out  of  my 
hand* 

Another  in  the  9th  verse  of  the  same  chapter :  /  am  the  door: 
by  me  if  any  man  enter  in,  he  shall  be  saved* 

All  these  are  promises,  uttered  by  Christ  himself;  and  it  will  not 
be  denied,  that  he  understood  the  import  of  fais  own  promise^  nor 
that  he  will  faithfully  perform  it  to  the  uttermost. 

Finally ;  St*  Paul  has  declared  his  views  concerning  this  subject 
b  a  manner,  which  one  would  expect  to  terminate  the  controversy. 
Moreover,  says  this  Apostle,  whom  he  did  predestinate^  them  he  also 
called  ;  and  whom  he  called,  them  he  also  justified  ;  and  whom  he 
fustiftd,'  them  he  also  glorified*  This  is  both  a  declaration,  and  a 
promise  ;  and  in  both  respects  is  unconditional  and  universal.  In 
the  most  express  language  it  asserts,  that  every  one,  who  is  effectu 
ally  called,  is  justified,  and  will  in  the  end  be  glorified  also.  Bu 
every  Christian  is  thus  called. 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  consider  the  principal  objections  againsi 
the  perseverance  of  Christians. 

1st.  //  is  objected,  that  this  doctrine  is  inconsistent  zoith  Free 
agency* 

This  objection,  as  to  its  real  unport,  I  have  had  occasion  to  con-* 

sidcr  in  several  preceding  discourses.     If  the  answers,  made  to  it 

then,  were  just  and  sufficient ;  they  must  admit  of  a  satisfactory 

application  to  this  subject.     The  drift  of  the  objection  in  every 

case  is  against  the  doctrine,  that  God  can  create  a  firee  agent,  who 

shall  yet  De  a  holy  being.     If  he  can  create  such  an  agent,  and 

make  him  holy  fit)m  the  beginning ;  he  can,  undoubtedly,  with 

equal  ease,  and  equal  consistency,  render  such  an  agent  holy  after 

he  is  created.    But  it  cannot  be  bcripturally  denied,  that  our  first 

parents,  or  the  angels,  were  created  holy ;  nor  that  the  man,  Jesui 

Vol.  III.  3 


10  FERSEVEBANGE.  [SEE. 

Christ,  was  created  holy.  Nor  can  it  be  deqied,  that  all  these 
were  in  the  fullest  sense  free  agents.  The  very  acknowledgment, 
that  they  were  holy,  is  an  acknowledgment,  that  they  were  free  ^ 
agents ;  for  holiness  is  an  attribute  of  free  agents  only.  It  is  cer- 
tain then,  that  God  can  render  such  agents  hbly,  at  any  time  after 
they  are  created,  without  infringing  at  all  the  freedom  of  their 
agency.  In  other  words,  he  can  regenerate  them  ;  can  sanctify 
them  afterwards,  at  successive  perious  ;  and  can,  of  course,  con- 
tinually increase  their  holiness  to  the  end  of  their  lives. 

Further ;  Angels,  and  jglorified  Saints,  will  persevere  in  holiness 
throughout  eternity ;  andtheir  perseverance  is  rendered  absolute- 
ly certain  by  the  unchangeable  promise  of  God.  Yet  neither  this 
Serseverance,  nor  the  certainty  of  it,  will  at  all  diminish  the  free- 
om  of  their  agency.  The  perseverance  of  Saints  in  this  world 
may,  therefore,  exist  to  the  end  of  life,  and  may  be  absolutely  cer- 
tain, without  syiy  diminution  of  the  freedom  of  their  agency* 

2dly.  It  is  alleged^  that  the  Scriptures  promise  eternal  life  to 
Christians  conditionally  ;  and  that  this  is  inconsistent  with  the  stp^ 
position^  that  every  Christian  will  certainly  persevere  in  holinessm 
For  example  ;  He,  that  shall  endure  unto  the  endy  the  same  shall  be 
saved :  and  again  ;  For  we  are  made  partakers  with  Christy  if  we 
hold  the  beginning  of  our  confidence  steadfast  unto  the  end. 

There  are  many  passaeas  of  this  nature  in  the  New  Testament. 
As  the  import  of  them  all  is  exactly  the  same,  it  will  be  unneces- 
sary to  quote  any  more.  Their  universal  tenour,  whether  given 
in  the  form  of  promises,  cautions,  exhortations,  or  commands,  is 
this  :  that  eternal  life  will  not  be  allotted  to  any  of  mankind,  ex- 
cept those  who  continue  in  obedience  unto  the  end.  Hence  it  is 
argued,  that  a  discrimination  is  here  intentionally  made  between 
such  Christians  as  do,  and  such  as  do  not,  thus  continue  in  their 
obedience.  Otherwise,  it  is  observed,  the  condition  would  be  use- 
less, and  without  any  foundation  in  fact. 

To  this  I  answer,  first,  that  a  conditional  promise,  collateral  to 
an  absolute  one,  can  never  affect,  much  less  make  void,  the  ab- 
solute promise.  The  promises,  which  I  have  recited,  of  eternal 
hfe  to  every  Christian,  are  all  absolute ;  as  are  also  many  others, 
of  the  same  nature.  They  cannot,  therefore,  be  made  void  by  these 
conditional  ones. 

Secondly ;  it  is  still  true,  that  none,  but  those  who  endure  to  the 
end,  will  be  saved ;  and  equally  true,  that  every  Christian  will  en- 
dure to  the  end. 

It  is  elsewhere  said  in  the  Scriptures,  that,  if  we  do  not  believe^ 
706  shall  be  damned^  that,  if  we  do  not  repent,  we  shall  perish^  that 
if  we  do  not  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  be  anathema}  that 
wiihoui  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord}  that  he  who  hateih  his 
broiher  abideth  in  death;  and  that  toithout  love  we  are  nothing. 
FVom  these  passages  it  might  with  the  same  force  be  concludra, 
that  some  persons  believe^  who  do  not  repent ;  that  some  repeait 


anU  UCBflLJ  PfiRaSVERANCE.  1 1 

who  are  not  noiy ;  and  that  some  are  holy,  who  vet  hate  their 
brethren;  and  that,  thus,  a  discrimination  was  intended  to  be  made 
between  believing  Christians  and  penitent  oncSs,  and  between  both 
these  and  such  as  are  holy.  The  truth  is  :  every  Christian  does 
all  these  things.  These  several  descriptions  were  given,  partly  to 
thow  us  the  whole  nature  of  Christianity ;  partly  to  teach  us  all 
^ur  duty ;  partly  to  show  us,  that  all  of  it  is  indispensable ;  and 
Kirtly  to  furnish  us  with  useful  and  necessary  evidence  of  our 
Christian  character. 

At  the  same  time,  all  these  conditional  promises,  and  exhorta- 
tions, are,  and  were  intended  to  be,  powerful  means  of  the  very 
perseverance,  which  is  the  principal  subject  of  them.  We  are  not 
constrained,  or  forced,  to  persevere ;  nor  should  we,  on  the  other 
hand,  persevere,  were  we  wholly  left  to  ourselves.  Our  persever- 
ance is  owine  to  two  great  causes  :  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of 
God  on  our  hearts ;  and  the  various  means  furnished  in  the  word, 
ordinances,  and  providence,  of  God,  accompanied  with  the  divine 
blessing  upon  the  use  of  them.  Among  these  means,  the  very  con- 
dition, nere  suggested  in  so  many  impressive  forms,  is  of  high  im- 
portance; ananas  contributed  to  the  perseverance  of  Christians 
in  holiness  ever  since  the  Scriptures  were  published.  Although, 
therefore,  all  Christians  actually  thus  persevere;  yet  it  is  not  im- 
probable, that  without  the  aid  of  those  passages  of  Scripture,  here 
alluded  to,  multitudes  mieht  have  fallen  away.  Christians  have  no 
other  satisfiictory  knowledge  of  their  Christianity,  except  their  con- 
tinuance in  obedience.  The  earnest  desire  of  possessing  this 
knowledge  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  fear  of  being  found  destitute 
of  the  Christian  character  on  the  other,  cannot  but  serve  as  pow- 
erful motives,  (motives  too  powerful,  in  my  view,  to  be  safely  omit^ 
ted  in  the  Scriptural  system)  to  produce  in  the  Christian  pei*sever- 
ance  in  holiness* 

3dly.  It  is  objected,  that  this  doctrine  naturally  contribvies  to  Us* 
sen  the  diligence  of  the  Christian  in  his  duty. 

For  an  answer  to  this  objection  I  must  refer  you  to  the  observa- 
tions, made  in  a  former  discourse  on  the  same  Objection  to  the  doc- 
trine of  Justification  hy  faith.  In  that  discourse,  the  objection  was 
applied  to  the  doctrine  now  under  consideration ;  and,  if  I  mistake 
not,  was  satisfactorily  obviated. 

4thly«  It  is  objected,  that  seveml  passages  of  Scripture  teach  the 
contrary  doctrine. 

Among  these  is  Heb.  ii.  4 — 8,  For  it  is  impossible  for  those,  who 
were  once  enlightened^  and  have  tasted  of  the  heavenly  giftj  and 
were  made  partakers  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ^  and  have  tasted  the  good 
word  tf  God,  and  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come  ;  if  they  shall 
faUamayj  to  renew  them  unto  repentance:  seeing  they  crucify  to 
ihmuelnti  the  Son  of  God  afresh,  and  put  him  to  an  open  shame. 
For  Uu  earth,  whidi  drinketh  in  the  rain  that  cometh  upon  it,  and 
Megejkfifih  fcwi»  meet  far  them  by  whom  it  is  dressed,  receiveth 


1 2  PERSE  VERANCfi.  GBER.  LXZZVIL 

blesring  from  God;  ivA  tkatj  which  beareth  thorns  and  briersy  is  re- 
jected;  and  is  nigh  unto  cursings  whose  end  is  to  be  burned. 

It  will  be  unnecessary  for  me  to  determine,  here,  who  are  the 
persons,  meant  by  the  Apostle  in  this  passage.     He  himself  has 

i,  decided^  that  they  are  not  Christians.  Tneir  character  is  fully  ez- 
.;  pressed  in  the  8th  verse,  under  the  image  of  the  earthy  which  beareth 
'•  thorns  and  briers ;  while  that  of  Christians  is  expressed  in  the  7th 
verse^  under  the  image  of  the  earthy  which  bringeth  forth  herbs^  meet 
for  them  by  whom  it  is  dressed.  These  are  here  studiously  con-* 
trasted.  The  character  of  the  former  is,  therefore,  exhibited  by 
the  Aposde  as  a  direct  contrast  to  that  of  Christians ;  who,  it  is  to' 
be  remembered,  are  represented  every  where  in  the  Scriptures  as 
bringing  forth  good  fruit.  This  passage,  then,  teaches  nothing, 
opposed  to  the  doctrine  which  I  am  endeavouring  to  support. 

Secondly.  It  is  not  asserted  by  the  Apostle^  that  those^  of  whom 
he  speaks^  ever  actually  fall  away.  The  case  is  stated  only  in  the 
form  of  a  supposition,  and  he  declares  only,  that,  should  they  fall 
away,  there  is  no  possibility  of  renewing  them  unto  repentance. 
Whether  such  persons  do  in  fact  fall  away  is,  therefore,  left  un- 
certain. 

Should  it  be  thought,  that  the  expressions  in  this  passage  amount 
to  a  description  of  Christianity ;  and  that,  theretorc.  Christians 
are  meant  m  it :  I  answer ;  that  neither  of  the  expressions  taken 
separately,  nor  all  of  them  together,  involve  any  necessary  de- 
scription of  Christianity.  It  is  true,  that  Christians  sustain  all 
these  characteristics,  except  two ;  viz.  partaking  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  J  and  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come  :  faXXovroc  omjvo;,  the  fu^ 
lure  age,  that  is,  the  period  of  the  Christian  dispensation,  thus  de- 
nominated. These  phrases  indicate  the  miraculous  powers,  pos- 
sessed by  many  Christians,  when  this  passage  was  written,  but 
never  belonging  to  Christians  as  such.  They,  therefore,  denote 
no  part  of  Christianity.  Judas  possessed  these  characteristics. 
The  remaining  expressions  are  all  indefinite ;  and  as  truly  applica- 
ble to  men,  who,  sUll  continuing  to  be  sinners,  have  enjoyed  pe- 
culiar Christian  advantages,  as  they  can  be  to  Christians.  The 
whole  drift  of  this  passage,  therefore,  even  when  construed  most 
favourably  for  those  whom  I  oppose,  is  only  ambiguously  in  favour 
of  their  doctrine ;  and  is,  in  my  view,  decided  against  them  by 
the  Aposde  himself.  But  it  cannot  be  rationally  believed,  that  a 
doctrine  of  this  importance  woidd,  in  opposition  to  so  many  clear, 
decisive  declarations,  have  been  left  to  expressions  merely  am- 
biguous. 

Another  passage,  pleaded  for  the  same  purpose,  is  the  declara- 
tion of  Christ,  John  xvii.  12,  Those  whom  thou  gavest  me  I  have 
kepty  and  none  of  them  is  lost^  but  the  son  of  perdition.  To  dis- 
cover the  true  meaning  of  this  passage,  we  need  only  recur  to 
other  declarations  of  tne  same  glorious  Person.  Many  widows 
wert  in  Israel  in  the  days  of  Elias;  but  unto  none  of  themwasElioi 


SBR.LXXXVIL]  VDSEViaUNCE.  ,       43 

$€nij  savevnto  Sarepta^  a  city  of  Sidon^  unto  a  iDqman  that  was  a  wU 
iow.     The  widow  of  Sarepta  is  here,  by  the  very  same  phrase- 
ology, included  among  the  widows  of  Israel ;  as  Judas  was  included 
among  those  that  were  given  to  Christ.     Yet  we  know,  and  this  . 
passage  declares,  that  she  was  not  an  Israelitish,  but  a  Sidonian  ^ 
widow :  and  we  know,  equally  well,  that  Judas  was  never  given  to  - 
Christ,  as  a  Christian. 

Again ;  TTure  were  many  lepers  in  Israel^  in  the  time  of  Eliscsus  ,^ 
the  prophet ;  and  none  of  them  were  cleansed^  saving  Jfaaman^  the  *• 
Syrian,     ^aoman,  the  iSynan,  was  not  an /jrae/tii^A  leper;  though, 
in  the  first  apparent  meanmg  of  the  passage,  mentioned  as  such,  i 
Judas  was  noteiven  to  Christ,  although  apparently  mentioned  as 
thus  £:iven.     The  whole  meaning  of  this  phrase  would  be  com- 
pletely expressed  thus :  Those  whom  thou  gavest  me  have  I  kept  f 
and  uone  of  them  is  lost :  but  the  son  of  perdition  is  lost. 

That  Jtidas  was  never  given  to  Christ  we  know  from  his  whole 
history,  and  the  repeated  declarations  of  his  Master.  This  pas- 
sage, therefore,  has  not  even  a  remote  reference  to  the  subject  in 
deoate. 

Another  passage  of  the  same  nature  is  that,  1  Tim.  i.  19,  Hold^  * 
ing  faithj  and  a  good  conscience  ;  which  some  having  put  away^  cot^ 
cermrig  faith,  have  made  shipwreck.  The  meaning  of  this  passage 
may  be  easily  learned  from  a  correct  translation.  Holdmg  fast 
faiih^  faithfulness  or  fidelity,  and  a  good  conscience}  which  some^ 
that  is,  some  teachers,  having  cast  away,  concerning  the  faith^  ngf 
ntfinv.  that  is,  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  have  made  shipwreck. 

Generally,  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  doctrine,  against  which 
I  contend,  is  not  supported  in  a  sinjgle,  unequivocal  declaration  of 
the  Scriptures.  I  Know  of  none,  m  which  it  is  asserted  in  terms 
so  favourable  to  it,  as  those  which  I  have  considered.  What* 
ever  is  said  concerning  the  apostacy  of  any  Christian  professors 
is  decisively  explainea  by  St.  John.  They  went  out  from  us,  but 
they  7cere  not  0/  us :  for,  if  they  had  been  of  us,  they  would  hopot 
continued  with  us. 

REMARKS. 

1st.  The  faithfulness  of  God  is  highly  conspicuous  in  the  truthi^ 
wMck  have  been  now  discussed. 

Christians  provoke  God  daily ;  and  awaken  his  anger  against 
themselves  more  and  more  continually.    By  everv  sin,  they  peiv  - 
suade  him,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  to  desert  them,  and 
to  give  them  up  to  themselves.     Still  ne  preserves  them  from  de-< 
struction.     He  has  promised  them  life.     He  has  established  kii, 
covenant  with  them  for  an  everlasting  covenant}  and  it  shall  never 
heforgottm.    On  his  Immutability  their  safety  stands  immoveable* 
In  this  manner  is  it  exhiVited  by  himself.     For  /,  saith  he,  am  Jxr. 
BOY  AH  :  I  change  not :  therefore  ye  sons  of  Jacob  are  not  conhnhedi, 
This  attribute  is  the  seal,  the  certainty,  of  every  promise :  anct 


14  pnssvsRAim. 

iooner  ihall  heaven  and  earth  jxus  away^  than  one  jot  or  «ii  ititU  of 
that,  which  is  promised,  ihaUfaU. 

Sdly.  From  these  observations  we  leam^  that  the  promises  of 
the  Gospel  are  absolute^  necessary  for  the  hope^  and  stpport^  if 
Christians. 

Christians,  in  their  very  best  estate,  possess  such  a  character,  as 
to  say  the  most,  furnishes  a  very  feeble  and  distant  hope  of  their 
perseverance  in  hoUness,  and  their  final  success  in  obtaining  sal- 
yation*  In  better  language,  if  left  to  themselves,  there  is  no  ra» 
tional  hope,  that  diey  would  ever  arrive  at  the  kingdom  of  heaveiu 
If  God  did  not  preserve  them,  they  would  fall  daily,  certainly,  and 
finally.  Without  the  promises  of  God,  prone  as  Uhristians  are  to 
backslide,  they  would  feel  no  confidence  in  their  own  success ;  but 
would  sink  into  despondency  and  despair.  To  preserve  then^ 
from  this  despondency,  and  tne  ruin  which  would  result  fixnn  it| 
God  has  filled  his  Word  with  prcmiises,  which  yield  solid  and  sufli- 
cient  support,  consolation^  hope,  and  joy.  On  these  they  rest 
safely,  ana  cannot  be  moved. 

Soij.  We  here  learnj  that  the  Christian  life  is  a  life  far  remomoi 
from  glootn* 

Many  persons  hearing  often  of  the  selMenial,  repentance,  ajod 
mortificalioQ  of  sin,  connected  with  Christianity,  have  supposed  a 
life  of  Religion  to  be  only  gloomy  and  discouraging ;  and  h^yst 
thus  dreaded  it,  as  destitute  of  all  present  enjoyment.  In  tUs 
Opinion  Ihe^  have  been  confirmed  by  the  sad  countenances,  de- 
mure behaviour,  and  cheerless  lives,  of  some  who  have  professed 
themselves  Christians.  All  this,  however,  is  remote  from  the  true 
character  of  Relidon.  Real  Christianity  furnishes  the  fiedrest  and 
most  abundant  enjoyment.  It  is  delightful  in  itself;  and,  when  not 
die  inunediate  object  of  persecution,  finds  every  where  comfor^ 
friends,  and  blessings.  In  God  the  Christian  finds  a  sure,  an  eveiw 
present,  an  everlasting  fiiend ;  in  Christ,  a  Saviour  from  sm  and 
sorrow ;  in  the  divine  promises,  an  indefeasible  inheritance  of  ub- 
ceasmg  and  eternal  good. 

Let  none,  therefore,  particularly  let  not  those  who  are  youngi 
ind  who  are  easily  deterred  bo\a  approaching  that,  which  wears  a 
iftrbidding  aspect,  be  hindered  from  beccnning  religious  byany  ap* 
prehendra  gloominess  in  Rqli^on,  or  any  sorrowful  deportment  of 
dkose,  who  profess  to  be  Christians.  Uhnstianity  is  but  another 
i|ame  fi)r  joy.  It  can  spread  a  ^mile  even  ov^  this  melancholy 
world,  ana  lend  delightml  consolation  to  sufiering  and  to  sorrow* 
All  its  dictates,  all  its  emotions,  all  its  views,  are  cheerful,  serene^ 
and  supporting.  Here  it  is  safe ;  hereafter  it  will  triumph.  8iji 
only  is  misery.  Sinners,  in  this  world,  have  a  thousand  sufferinn| 
of  which  the  good  .man  is  ignorant;  and,  in  the  wprld  to  come^  inf 
1^  down  in  eternal. sorraw. 


« 


t 


SERMON  LXXXTin. 

STIDXHCS8   or  RXOEVERATION. WHAT   ARS   NOT    VyiDXVCtS* 


tComnmiiAVf  liil 6.— Examine yaurmhti  vhfither  wtiBmthe  faUk t  frw— ^    . 

m/tmuHtt;  knew  jfe  moi  your  nn  tektt,  how  IkM  Jum  CknM  u  m  mu  iaeetni  m 
htHfitkmiesf  '  ^ 

Having,  in  a  long  series  of  discourses,  considered  the  doc- 
trine of  Re^neradon,  its  Antecedents,  Attendants,  and  Conse* 
oaents ;  I  niall  now  proceed  to  another  interesting  subject  <rf 
flieol<^  9  ▼i^*  ^^  Evidences  of  Regenetatiaiu 

In  me  text,  the  Apostle  commands  the  CarnUhian  Christians  Id 
txaminej  and  prove  themselves ;  and  states  the  purpose  of  this 
examination  to  be  to  determine  whether  they  were  m  the  faith.  He 
then  inquires  of  them,  Know  ye  not  your  own  selves^  how  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  in  you  except  ye  be  reprobates  ?  in  the  original,  except  ye 
he  o^pqpMi,  unapproved;  unable  to  endure  the  trial  of  such  an  eX' 
amination.  From  this  passage  of  Scripture  it  is  plain,  that  it.iras 
the  duty  of  the  Corinthians  to  examine  themselves  concerning  their. 
Christian  character  ;  and  that  this  examination  was  to  be  pursued 
by  them  so  thoroughly,  as  to  prove,  so  far  as  might  be,  whether  they 
Isert,  or  were  not,  in  the  faith  ;  whether  Chrioi  md^  or  did  not,  dweU 
m  them  by  his  Holy  Spirit. 

That,  which  was  the  duty  of  the  Corinthians,  is  the  duty  of  aU 

other  Christians.     That,  which  is  the  duty  of  all  Christians,  it  is 

fte  duty  of  every  Minister  to  aid  them  in  performing.     To  unfoU 

Ae  Evidences  of  Religion  in  the  heart  is,  therefore,  at  tmies,  the  dutjr 

of  every  Minister ;  and,  to  learn  them,  that  of  every  Christian. 

In  attempting  to  perform  this  duty  at  the  present  time,  I  shall 
endeavour  to  point  out, 

I.  Some  <f  the  Imaginarv  Evidences  of  Religion  f 

n.  Some  of  its  Real  Evidences  ;  and  * 

ni.  Some  of  the  Difficulties,  which  attend  the  fgppliciMon  of  tko 
Real  Evidences  of  Religion  to  ourselves. 

I.  I  shall  enJectvour  to  point  out  some  of  the  Imaginary  Evidences 
of  Religion. 

By  maginary  Evidences  I  intend  those,  which  are  sometimes  stjH 
posed  to  be  proofs  of  its  existence,  but  have  this  character  through 
mitfakf  only :  evidences,  which  may  be,  and  often  are,  found  m 
Ae  hearts,  and  lives,  both  of  the  saint  and  the  sinner :  things,  on 
wbich  it  is  dangerous  to  rely,  because  they  do  not  evince,  m  any 
degree,  either  a  holy  or  an  unholy  character.  It  will  not  be  ex- 
pected, fliat  I  ahould  enter  into  a  minute,  and  detailed,  account  of 


i 


■>•/■'■' 

10  \        WHAT  ARE  NOT  EVIDKIfCES        [SEILLXXXVUL 

.    a  subject,  which  has  occupied  formal  treatises,  and  filled  vohimes. 

^Considerations  of  particular  importance  can  alone  find  a  place  in 

such  a  system  of  oiscourscs.     To  them,  therefore,  I  shall  confine 

myself;  and  even  these  I  must  necessarily  discuss  in  a  summary 

manner.     With  these  preliminary  remarks,  I  observe, 

1st.  That  nothing  in  the  Timtj  Place,  Manner,  or  other  circum' 
stances  of  a  supposed  conversion,  furnishes,  ordinarily,  any  solid 
evidence,  that  it  is,  or  is  not,  real. 

It  is  not  uncommon  for  persons,  and  for  Christians  among  oth* 
ers,  to  dwell,  both  in  then*  thoughts  and  conversation,  on  these 
subjects ;  and  to  believe,  that  they  fiurnish  them  with  comforting 
proofs  of  their  piety.  Some  persons  rest  not  a  little  on  their  con- 
sdousness  of  the  time,  at  which  they  believe  themselves  to  have 
tamed  to  God.  So  confident  are  they  with  regard  to  this  subject, 
that  they  boldly  appeal  to  it  in  their  conversation  with  others,  as 
evidence  of  their  regeneration.  "So .many  years  since,"  one  of 
them  will  say,  "my  heart  closed  with  Christ.  Christ  was  discov- 
ered to  my  soul.  The  arm  of  Mercy  laid  hold  on  me.  I  was 
stopped  in  the  career  of  iniquity.  I  received  totally  new  views 
of  divine  things."  Much  other  language,  of  a  similar  nature,  is 
used  by  them ;  all  of  which  rests,  ultimately,  on  their  knowledge  of 
,  the  time,  at  which  they  suppose  themselves  to  have  become  the 
subjects  of  the  renewing  grace  of  God. 

There  is  reason  to  believe,  derived  however  from  other  sources, 
that  these  apprehensions  may  sometimes  be  founded  in  truth  ;  in 
Other  instances,  there  is  abundant  proof,  tliat  they  are  founded  in 
falsehood.  But  that,  which  may  easily  be  either  false  or  true,  as 
in  the  present  case  it  plainly  may,  can  never  safely  be  made  the 
ground  of  reliance ;  especially  in  a  concern  of  such  moment. 

Other  persons  appeal  with  the  same  confidence  to  the  manner^ 
and  circumstances,  oi  their  supposed  conversion,  as  evidences  of 
its  reality.  Thus  one  recites  with  much  reliance  the  strong  con- 
victions of  sin,  under  which  he  was  distressed  for  a  length  of  time ; 
the  deep  sense,  which  he  had  of  deserving  the  anger  and  punish- 
ment of  God ;  his  disposition  readily  to  acknowledge  the  justice  of 
the  divine  law  in  condemning  him,  and  of  the  divine  government 
In  punishing  him ;  his  full  belief,  that  he  was  among  me  worst  oi 
sinners ;  and  the  state  of  despair,  to  which  he  was  brought  under 
the  apprehensions  of  his  guilt.  Of  all  these  things  it  may  be  ob- 
served, that,  althouigh  convictions  of  sin,  generally  of  the  nature 
here  referred  to,  always  precede  regeneration ;  yet,  in  whatever 
form  or  degree  they  exist,  they  are  not  regeneration.  They  can- 
not, therefore,  be  proofs  of  regeneration.  He,  who  has  the  m,  in 
whatever  manner  ne  has  them,  will,  if  he  proceed  no  farther,  be 
still  in  the  gall  of  bitterness. 

But  the  same  person,  perhaps,  goes  on  farther ;  and  declares, 
that,  while  he  was  in  this  situation  of  distress,  when  he  was  ready 
to  give  himself  up  for  lost,  God  discovered  himself  to  him  as  a 


4 


\ 


•  •> 

t 


asL  Lxxxnn.]  of  begeneration.  17 

reconciled  God ;  ami  filled  his  mind  with  new,  sodden,  and  un-  ^ 
speakable  joy ;  that  he  had  a  strone  and  delightful  sense  of  the' 
divine  mercy  in  Jesus  Christ,  of  the  wonderful  compassion  of' 
Christ,  in  consenting  to  die  for  sinners,  in  being  willine  to  accept 
of  sinners,  and  particularly  in  bein^  willing  to  accept  of  so  ereat  a 
sinner  as  himself:  that  he  found  his  heart  going  forth  in  love  to 
God,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  to  the  word  and 
ordinances  of  God,  and  to  the  Church  of  Christ :  and  that  this  state  * 
of  mind  was  new  to  him ;  being  constituted  of  emotions,  which  he 
never  felt  before.     On  these  things,  thercforc,  he  rcposes,  as  sup- 
porting evidences,  that  he  is  a  Christian. 

All  this  is,  in  my  own  view,  a  just  account  of  what  really  takes 
place  in  the  conversion  of  multitudes ;  and,  did  it  exist  in  no  o(her 
case,  would  undoubtedly  furnish  the  very  evidence,  here  relied  on 
without  any  sufficient  warrant.  The  defect  in  this  scheme  lies  in 
the  fact,  that  these  very  emotions  are  experienced  by  multitudes, 
who  are  not  Christians.  That  a  person,  who  has  been  the  sub- 
ject of  extreme  distress  under  convictions  of  sin,  and  the  fear  of 
perdition,  should,  whenever  he  begins  to  hope,  that  his  sins  are 
forgiven,  and  his  soul  secured  from  destruction,  experience  lively 
emotions  of  joy,  is  to  be  expected,  as  a  thing  of  course :  and  thatj 
whether  his  hopes  are  Evangelical,  or  false.  All  men  must  re- 
joice in  their  deliverance  from  destruction,  whether  truly,  or 
erroneously,  believed  by  them;  and  all  men,  who  have  had  a 
distressing  sense  of  their  guilt  and  danger,  will,  under  a  sense  of 
such  a  oeliverance,  experience  intense  emotions  of  joy.  All 
men  also,  who  really  believe,  that  God  is  become  their  niend,  will 
love  him.  All  will  love  the  word  of  God,  who  consider  it  as 
speakin?  peace  and  salvation  to  themselves.  This  joy,  and  this 
love,  it  is  evident,  are  merely  natural ;  and  are  felt,  of  course,  by 
every  mistaking  professor  of  Religion.  Love  to  God,  and  to 
divine  things,  is  a  delight  in  the  nature  of  these  objects j  indepen-* 
dendy  of  any  personal  benefit,  to  which  we  feel  etftitled  m)m 
them. 

Another  person  places  confidence  in  the  greatneh  of  the  effects, 
which  his  sense  of  sin,  and  his  hope  of  forgiveness,  produced  both 
on  his  body  and  mind.  He  will  mform  you,  with  plain  consola- 
tion to  himself,  that  his  distressing  apprehensions  of  his  guilt  sunk 
him  in  the  dust,  and  caused  him  to  cry  out  involuntarily ;  deprived 
him  of  his  strength,  and  for  a  time  perhaps  of  the  clear  exercise  of  . 
his  Reason ;  caused  him  to  swoon  ;  and  almost  terminated  his  life. 
Much  the  same  effects,  he  will  also  observe,  were  produced  in  him 
by  his  consequent  discoveries  of  the  divine  mercy.  These  over- 
Whehned  him  with  transport ;  as  his  convictions  did  with  agony. 
The  eztraordmary  nature,  and  especially  the  extraordinary  de- 
gree, of  these  emotions,  fiumishes  tnis  man  with  the  most  consola« 
lory  proof,  that  he  is  a  child  of  God. 

Vol.  III.  3 


HI  WHAT  4SE  NOT  £¥ID£SiC£S        [8SR.  LXXXVQL 

On  this  I  shall  only  observe,  that  as  these  emotions  may  be,  and 
often  are,  excited  by  natural,  as  well  as  £^vangelical,  causes ;  so, 
when  thus  excited,  they  may  exist  in  any  supposable  degree.  The 
agonies,  and  the  transports,  the  agitations  of  body,  ana  of  mind, 

5 rove,  indeed,  the  intensiiy  of  the  feelings  experienced ;  but  the^ 
o  not  in  the  least  degree  exhibit  eimer  their  fiafure,  or  their 
cawe  ;  and  cannot,  therefore,  be  safely  relied  on,  as  evidences  of 
Religion. 

A  third  person  will  tell  you,  that,  while  he  was  in  a  state  of 
absolute  carelessness,  and  goine  on  headlong  in  sin,  he  was  sud^ 
derdy  alarmed  concerning  his  gitUt  and  danger  by  a  passage  of  Scrips 
ture^  which  came  to  his  mind  in  a  moment ;  without  any  thought^  or 
contrivance  of  his  own  ;  and  perhaps  that,  afier  he  had  long  wearied 
himself  to  find  an  escape  from  the  wrath  of  Godj  another  text  of 
Scripture^  also  without  any  contrivance  of  his  oion,  came  as  suddenly 
to  his  mindj  conveying  to  him  bright  views  of  the  divine  mercy  and 
glorious  promises  of  salvation.  The  reliance  of  this  man  is  placed, 
especially,  en  the  fact,  that  these  texts  came  to  his  mind  witJumi 
any  effort,  on  his  part,  either  to  remember j  or  to  search  after  them. 
He  therefore,  concludes,  that  they  were  communicated  to  him, 
direcdy  by  the  Spirit  of  God ;  ana  that  they  conveyed  to  him  a 
direct,  personal  promise  of  eternal  Ufe.  This  is  mere  delusion* 
Passages  of  Scripture,  and  those  just  such  as  are  here  referred  to, 
come  often,  suadenly,  and  without  any  labour  of  theirs,  to  the 
minds  of  multitudes,  who  are  not  Christians :  and  God  is  no  more 
immediately  concerned  in  bringing  them  to  the  mind,  in  this  case, 
than  when  we  read  them  in  the  Bible,  or  hear  them  from  the  desk* 
What  God  speaks  in  the  Bible  he  always  speaks,  and  speaks  to 
us  ^  but  he  addresses  nothing  to  us,  when  we  remenwer,  any 
more  than  when  we  read, .  or  hear,  his  words.  If  we  rely  on  the 
true  import  of  what  he  says ;  we  rely  with  perfect  safety  :  but,  if 
we  place  any  importance  on  the  mode,  in  which  at  any  time  that, 
which  is  said,  comes  to  our  minds ;  we  deceive  ourselves.  The 
whole  of  our  recollection,  in  these  cases,  is  a  merely  natural  pro- 
cess ;  and  is  the  result  of  that  association  of  ideas,  by  which  mem- 
ory is  chiefly  governed,  and  which  brings  to  our  remembrance,  m 
the  very  same  manner,  thousands  of  other  things,  as  well  as  these 
texts  of  Scripture ;  of  which  however,  as  being  of  litde  importance 
to  us,  we  take  no  notice. 

Other  persons  depend  much  on  the  regularity  of  the  process  mih 
which  their  distresses  and  consolations  have  existed ;  and  in  the 
conformity  of  them  to  such  a  scheme,  and  history,  of  these  things,  as 
they  have  found  in  books,  or  received  from  the  mouth  of  acknow- 
ledged and  eminent  Christians.  In  the  Sermon  on  the  Antecedents 
of  Regeneration,  I  observed,  that  this  work  is  in  its  process  almost 
endlessly  various^  But,  in  whatever  manner  it  exist,  the  manner 
kself  is  of  no  consequence.  Should  we  have  exactly  the  same 
succession  of  distresses  and  consolations,  experienced  by  ever  so 


KR  LXXXnn.]  OF  REGENERAXION.  .  |f 

many  of  the  most  distinguished  saints,  and  yet  Vur  affections,  in- 
stead of  being  Evangelical,  be  merely  natural;  the  order  of  their 
existence  could  never  prove,  that  we  were  Christians:  foi'  we 
should  still  be  sinners.  The  naturt  of  these  affections,  and  not 
ike  order^  is  the  great  concern  of  all  our  self*examination. 

3dly.  Zeal  in  the  cause  of  Religion  is  no  evidence^  that  we  are^  or 
mre  not^  Christians* 

Men,  we  all  know,  are  capable  of  exercising  zeal  in  any  caae^ 
in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  interest,  which  they  feel  in  that  case. 
We  also  know,  that  there  is  a  zea/,  which  is  not  according  to  know 
ledge.  All  persons,  naturally  ardent,  become  zealous  about  every 
thing,  in  which  they  are  once  engaged;  and,  especially,  when 
they  are  opposed.  Christians  are  zealous  in  the  cause  of  Reli^ 
gion  :  Deists  and  Atheists,  in  the  cause  of  Infdelity :  Jews,  in  that 
of  Judaism :  Heathen,  in  that  of  Idolatry.  The  Ephesians  were 
sealous  for  the  worship  of  the  great  Goddess  Diana :  St.  Paid  and 
his  companions,  for  that  of  the  true  God :  the  Anabaptists  at  Mun- 
ster,  for  the  wild  reveries  taught  by  their  leaders  :  and  thus  con- 
cerning innumerable  others.  Nothing  is  more  evident,  than  that 
Eeal  was  not,  in  the  most  of  these  cases,  any  proof  of  piety  i^ 
chose,  by  whom  it  was  exercised. 

As  zeai  itself,  so  the  degree  in  which  it  exists,  is  no  proof  of  vital 
religion.  There  have  been  multitudes  of  persons,  whose  zeal 
has  prompted  them  to  court  persecution*  It  is  not  uncommon  for 
members  of  small  and  despised  sects  to  believe,  that  the  sufferance 
rf persecution  is  a  decisive  characteristic  of  the  true  ChiXrch  of  God} 
aikI  to  solicit  it,  as  decisive  evidence,  that  they  themselves  are 
members  of  this  Church.  With  these  views,  they  sedulously  con- 
strue all  the  kinds,  and  degrees,  of  opposition,  with  which  they 
meet,  into  persecution.  >  In  this  manner  they  regard  the  sober  ar- 
gumentation, with  which  their  opinions  are  refuted ;  the  most  dis- 
passionate exposures  of  their  folly  and  their  faults ;  the  most  just 
operations  of  law,  directed  either  against  then*  crimes,  or  to  the 
preservation  of  the  rights  of  others ;  nay,  even  that  abstinence 
nt>m  communion  with  them  in  their  worship,  and  that  refusal  to 
further  their  designs,  which  they,  on  their  own  part,  claim  as  in- 
defeasible rights  of  man.  Such  persons  ought  to  remember,  that 
all,  or  nearly  all,  classes  of  Christians,  even  those  whom  they  most 
appose,  nay,  that  Infidels,  and  Atheists,  have  been  persecuted,  and 
that  the  modern  Jews  have  been  more  persecuted,  than  any  other 
sea,  party,  or  people,  now  in  existence.  The  sufferance  or  perse- 
cution, therefore,  is  no  proof,  that  we  belong  to  the  true  Church. 
Still  more  oueht  they  to  remember,  that  St.  Paul  hath  said,  Though 
I  give  my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not  love,  itprofiteth  me  no* 
tUng. 

doly.  Jfo  Exactness  in  petforming  the  External  duties  of  Religion 
fitmiihes  any  evidence,  that  we  are,  or  are  not.  Christians. 


,20  WHAT  MOA  NOT  EVmENCES  [SJEB.  LXXXTIB. 

Few  persons  have  been  more  exact  in  this  respect,  than  the  an- 
cient Pharisees.  Yet  Christ  has  testified  of  them,  that  they  were 
a  generation  of  vipers.  Under  the  Christian  dispensation,  great 
multitudes  of  the  Jioman  Catholics,  notoriously  profligate  in  many 
parts  of  their  conduct,  have,  in  various  periods  of  Popery,  been 
remarkably  punctilious  in  the  performance  of  these  duties.  That, 
which  was  no  evidence  of  Christianity  in  them,  cannot  be  evidence 
of  Christianity  in  ourselves. 

Many  persons  are  exact  in  this  conduct  from  the  influence  of  edu- 
cation, and  example  ;  many,  from  habit ;  many,  from  the  desire  of 
religious  distinction;   many,  because  they  think  this  conduct  a 

Sroof  of  their,  piety,  and  are  uneasy  witmut  such  proof;  many, 
ecause  they  think  themselves,  in  this  way  only,  in  the  safe  path 
to  salvation ;  and  many,  from  other  selfish  reasons.  In  all  these 
things,  considered  by  themselves,  there  is  no  religion.  Of  course,  the 
conduct,  to  which  they  give  birth,  cannot  be  evidential  of  religion. 
4thly«  No  Exactness  in  performing  those,  which  are  frequently 
called  Moral  duties,  furnishes  any  evidence  of  this  nature. 

Multitudes  of  Mankind  place  great  confidence  in  their  careful 
perfonnance  of  these  external  duties,  as  being  evidential  of  their 
Evangelical  character;  just  as  other  multitudes  do  in  those  men- 
tioned under  the  preceding  head;  and  with  no  better  foundation. 
Justice,  tinith,  and  kindness,  in  their  various  branches,  and  ope- 
rations, are  so  important,  and  useful,  to  mankind,  tliat  we  all  readi* 
ly  agree  in  giving  them  high  distinction  in  the  scale  of  moral  char- 
acteristics. Those,  who  practise  them  uniformly,  and  extensively, 
aie  universally  considered  as  benefactors  to  the  world,  and  as  in- 
^  Tested  with  peculiar  amiableness,  and  worth.  Those,  who  violate 
them,  on  the  other  hand,  are,  from  the  mischiefs  which  they  produce, 
regarded  as  enemies,  and  nuisances,  to  the  human  race.  At  the  same 
time,  a  high  degree  of  importance  is  given  to  these  duties  in  the 
Scriptures.  They  are  greatly  insisted  on  in  the  Gospel ;  inculcated 
in  many  forms  of  instruction  ;  commended  in  the  most  forcible  lan- 
guage ;  and  encouraged  by  most  interesting  promises.  The  vio- 
lation of  them  is  condemned,  and  threatened,  in  the  most  pungent 
teKms,  and  under  the  most  glowing  images. 

It  cannot  be  surprising,  tnat,  influenced  by  these  considerations, 

parents  should  make  these  duties  a  prime  part  of  their  instructions, 

and  precepts,  to  their  children.     But  when  we  remember,  that  the 

.    practice  of  them  has  in  all  ages,  and  in  a)l  civiUzed  countries,  been 

^      considered  as  equally,  and  as  indispensably,  necessary  to  a  fair 

*  reputation,  and  to  success  in  the  common  business  of  life ;  we  shall 

l^adily  suppose,  that  these  must  be  among  the  first  things  imbibed 

by  the  early  mind,  from  parental  superintendence,  and  must  hold  a 

peculiar  importance  in  all  the  future  thoughts  of  the  man. 

*    Thus  taught,  and  thus  imbibed,  we  should  naturally  expect  to  see 

• '  them  practised,  during  the  progress  of  life,  aft  extensively  as  can 

consist  with  the  imperfect  character  of  human  beings.     When  thus 


r- 


VOL  LXXXVm.]  OF  BEOENERASIGN.  SI* 

practised,  and  especially  when  eminently  practised,  we  cannot 
wonder  to  find  those,  whose  lives  they  adorn,  regarded  as  persons 
of  real  virtue  and  excellence.  What  less  can  be  expected  ?   These 
are  the  very  actions,  towards  our  fellow-creatures,  required  by  Grod 
lumself ;  and  dictated  b^  Evanselical  virtue ;  a  paK  of  the  very 
fruits,  by  which  the  Christian  cnaracter  is  to  be  known.    Why  is 
not  he,  who  exhibits  them,  a  Christian  ?    Oftentimes,  also,  they  ap- 
pear with  high  advantage  in  the  conduct  of  persons,  distinguished 
oy  natural  sweetness  m  disposition,  peculiar  decency  of  charao* 
ter,  amiableness  of  life,  and  dignity  or  gracefulness  of  manners ; 
and  thus  become  delightful  objects  to  the  eye,  and  excite  the 
wannest  commendations  of  the  tongue.    It  is  not  strange  therefore, 
that  they  should  have  gained  a  high  and  established*  reputation'; 
and  should  be  extensively  regarded  as  unequivocal  prooii  of  an 
excellent  character. 

What  others  so  generally  attribute  to  them  we  not  unnaturally 
accord  with,  whenever  our  own  case  is  concerned :  and^  finding, 
that  we  are  believed  by  others  to  be  Christians,  on  account  of  our 
good  works  of  this  nature,  readily  believe  ourselves  to  possess  the 
character.  We  are  esteemed,  loved,  and  commended,  by  those 
around  us ;  and  cannot  easily  believe,  that  the  worth,  which  they 
attribute  to  us,  is  all  imaginary. 

Still,  such  a  performance  of  these  duties  fiimishes  no  proof,  that 
we  are  Christians.  For,  in  the  first  place,  tha/  may  6e,  and  often 
are^  all  performed  ffom  the  very  motivesj  mentioned  under  the  last 
head,  as  being  frequently  the  sources  of  exactness  in  the  extemai  dur 
ties  of  Religion.  Secondly,  they  are  often  performed  hy  men,  vkoi 
violate,  extensively,  or  grossly  neglect,  the  duties  of  piety,  and  M»•^  ^ 
perance,  and  who,  therefore,  are  certainly  not  Christians^  Thirdly,' 
they  appear  to  have  been  all  performed  with  uncommon  exactness  by 
the  Young  man,  who  came  to  Christ,  to  inquire  what  good  thing  hs 
should  do,  to  have  eternal  life.  Yet,  he  lacked  one  thing}  and  that 
was,  the  one  thing  needful. 

5thly«  Jfo  degrees  of  sorrow  or  comfort,  of  fear  or  hope^  expe^ 
rienced  by  any  person  about  his  religious  concerns,  at  seasons,  sue* 
ueding  the  time  of  his  supposed  conversion,  fwmish  any  evidence 
of  this  nature. 

Sorrow  springs  firom  many  sources,  besides  a  sense  of  our  sins  | 
and  from  such  a  sense  it  may  be  derived,  and  yet  not  be  the  sor* 
row,  which  is  after  a  godly  sort.  We  may  easily,  and  greatly, 
sorrow  for  our  sins,  b^use  we  consider  them  as  exposmg  us  to 
the  anger  of  God,  and  to  everlasting  ruin.  Our  comforts,  abo, 
may  flow  firom.  other  sources,  beside  those  which  are  Evanjgelical* 
Some  persons  derive  great  consolation,  and  even  exquisite  joy, 
from  a  belief,  and  that  whether  well  or  ill  founded,  of  their  accept- 
ance with  God :  some,  from  the  apprehension  that  they  are  emi- 
nent Christians :  some,  from  the  unexpected  influx  of  religioufc 
thoughts,  and  passages  of  Scripture,  coming  suddenly  into  their. 


fl  dr  RBeSKERAtlON^  |BI»  UQOCVIII. 

ItfiUctft:  some,  from  what  they  esteem  peculiar  tokens  of  divine 
gb'Odh^ss. to  them;  tokens,  which  they  regard  as  proofe  of  the pe* 
efdiaf  love  and  &v6tir  of  God :  some,  from  what  they  term  pecul- 
&r'  discoveries  of  the  glor^  of  God  and  the  excellency  of 
(be^  Hedec^ei*,  and  of  the  joys  of  the  blessed  in  heaven.  'All 
Aetie  they  ^ttssider  as  immednttely  communicated  by  God  to  the^n* 
MlVti^;  b^(Mi^  thtey  krt  his  favourites  among  mankind.  There 
k^'  (Ak>  dAier  states  of  mind,  in  which  consolations  are  ex* 
MH^ced  ttom  other  sources :  consolations,  which  may  exist  in 
Bl^fr  ^gtee^y  but  which  are  too  numerous  to  be  mentioned  at  the 
j^siBtit  iime^ 

WiDIt  is  GHi^  6f  die  sorrows,  and  comfoits,  excited  by  religious 
ebMsidbiMbns^  is  substantially  true  of  the  kindred  emotions  of 
ftlir'  and  h6pe^  These  can  also  arise  both  from  true  and  frilse  ap* 
fttehensions ;  and  can  be  either  merely  natural,  or  wholly  Evan- 
ftMtStilj  of  of  a  mixed  nature.  Ad  they  actually  exist  in  the  minds 
df  men,  they  at«,  to  say  the  least,  often  undistinguished,'  as  to  their 
i^al  nature,  by  those,  in  whom  the^  exist ;  and  are,  I  believd,, 
HHstny  times,  in  a  great  measure  undistinguishable.  Their  existence 
is  so  transient,  mey  are  frequently  mingled  with  so  many  other 
views  and  emotions,  and  the  eye  of  the  mind  is  often  so  engaged? 
by  the  objects,  which  give  birth  to  them,  that  it  becomes  extreme- 
ly difficult  to  fasten  upon  their  true  character. 

6thly.  J/o  evidence  of  our  SancHfic€Uwn  is  famuhtd  by  our  onm 
OMtdenee^ 

The  truth  of  this  declaration  may  be  easily  seen  in  the  fact,  that 
flftiititcftl^s  feel  the  utmost  confidence,  that  they  are  Christians,  who 
sAer^yds  pfove,  by  their  conduct,  their  entire  destitution  of 
GfMlsfi^ty.  All  Enthusiasts  usually  confide  with  undoubting  as- 
aStirttta^  hk  the  reality  of  their  own  religion ;  and  generally  pity, 
Itiid  dflkttk  dtes]^,  men  of  a  humUer  and  better  spirit ;  because' 
tt6y  d6^  n6€  e^y  such  peculiar  discoveries,  such  delightful  exer- 
cises of  devotion,  such  bright  hopes  and  heavenlv  anticipations  of 
ftMtfe  ^kityi  as  themselves^  The  Pharisee  boldly  said,  Oodj  t 
UhfHlf  MMfy  thM  I  am  not  09  other  msn^  or  even  as  this  publican.  Yet 
If^  IMS  a  Wdfrff^  man  thas  the  ^niblican.  A  collection  of  the  Pha- 
risees  said  to  Christ,  Are  we  blmd  also  F 

I  tlf€fp(Mt  hereafter  io  consider,  at  some  length,  what  is  coQi^ 
tUlhfy  called  fhs  Faith  of  Assurance^  It  will  be  sufficient  to  ob- 
iiiVtf,  at  Ae  present  time,  that  I  believe  some  men  to  be  really' 
i6d  BvaM^fically  thus  assured.  If  this  be  admitted,  as  it  un- 
doubtedly will  be  by  the  great  body  of  Christians,  it  foUows  of 
ecM^M,  dial  confidence  m  oxxt  good  estate  is  no  proof,  that  we 
tf6  not  Ctfirtstialis.  A  man  may  confide,  with  sufficient  evidence : 
te  Mft;f  tdm  confidie  without  it.  It  is  plain,  therefore^  that  his  con* 
Mfimcsi^  cottiklered  by  itself,  famishes  no  pnx4  that  it  is  well  or 

■IfMHKieCb^ 


■r 


> 


•  ^ 


I 


IBi.-UDBQBU  ^Qf  MOMKaMDKML  •• 

I  cannot,  however,  do  justice  to  m^  own  views,  nor,  as  I  be- 
lieve, to  the  subject,  without  observing  here,  that,  in  ordinary 
cases,  I  entertain  a  better  opinion  of  the  modest,  doubting,  feanfiu 
professor,  than  of  the  bold  and  assured  one.  The  life  ^  theior- 
mer,  as  it  seems  to  me,  is,  commonly  at  least,  more  watchfal^  m<ws 
careful ;  more  self-condemining ;  more  scrupulous  canccvnmg  ihe 
Gommissioa  of  sin,  and  the  omission  of  duty ;  more  indicative  of  ' 
dependence  on  God ;  more  inclined  to  esUem  others  better  ihu^ 
kimtelf^  more  declaratorv  of  the  spirit  of  lUUe  childr^en*  The 
^{nrit  of  the  latter,  even  when  he  is  admitted  to  be  a  Christian,  ap 
pears  to  me  to  be  often  fraught,  in  an  ynhappy  degree,  with  self* 
exaltation.;  with  censc^ousness,  as  well  as  contempt,  of  those 
who  differ  from  him ;  with  unchaiitableness ;  with  peremptoriness 
of  opinion ;  and  with  an  unwaniantable  assurance  of  the  rectitude 
of  whatever  he  believes,  says,  or  does.  These,  certainly,  are 
not  favourable  specimens  of  .any  character.  I  would  be  frir  fit>m 
ultimately  condemning  the  jurofession  of  all  those,  in  whom  these 
things  are  more  or  less  visible ;  yet  I  assert  without  hesit9tion„th^ 
tlieb  l^ki  would  $ku^  more  clearly  before  meti,  were  it  not  (^ 
agiured  by  these  clouds. 

It  is  not  tiU  degree  of  confidence,  but  the  M^mnce  whence  Uis  i^ 
rheijM^  the  objects  on  which  it  resis^  hj  which  its  nature  and  iQk> 
port  are  to  be  determined.  It  may  exist  in  the  highest  degree 
without  9fij  religion ;  and  religipn  may  exist  in  very  high  degress 
at  least,  wiUK^ut  %nv  confidence^ 

7thly.  7%e  belief  of  others^  th^  we  are  Christians^  furnishes  4W 
proof  ^  OUST  Christianity. 

All  persons,  who  make  a  profession  of  religion,  and  many  w]u» 
do  not,  whose  lives  at  the  same  time  are  exemplarv,  ficrupulous, 
spd  onblameable,  are  bv  most  charitable  persons  believed  to  be 
Christians*  Some  of  tnese,  however,  beyond  any  reasonable 
doubt,  are  not  Christians.  Some  we  know  to  nave  lived  in  this  mw^ 
ner,  aqd  to  have  sustained  this  character,  both  in.^cient  and  mod- 
em tinoes,  without  a  pretension  to  vital  religion*  Judas  was.  be* 
lievcd  by  huiiellow-9^postles,  for  a  length  of  time,  and  not  imprpbAp 
\kf  without  a  single  doubt,  to  be  a  true  follower  of  Christ.  Jfyme^ 
Hem,  and  PhUetm^  appear  to  haye  sustained  the  same  character: 
aod,  apparently  with  as  little  foundation.  All  these  were  believe4 
to.be  Cbristians  iy  Jhosiles}  inspired  men;  of  singular  underr. 
standing  in  subjects  ofthis  nature.  Yet  these  men  were  deceived^ 
No  woras  mre  necessary, to  prove,  that  ne,  and  aU  others^  are  liable 
to  deception  in  similar  cases.  If  the  belief  of  Peter  and  PotJ, 
that  the  objects  tf  their  charity,  \n  the.qases  specified,  were  Chris- 
tians,  was  no  evidence  of  their  Christianity ;  then  the  belief  of 
ochen,  tbat  me  ve  Chri8tiani|,.is  no  evidence  of.qHr  Christi^t^. 


V  ■  ."■    • 


^••■-  ;jr^    r- 


94  WHAT  IRE  90T  EVIDENCES         tBR.XXZZVIlL 

REMARKS. 

From  these  observations  we  learn, 

1st.    ITiat  we  aught  to  exercise  the  utmost  care  an^  caution  in  ex^ 
amining  the  evidences  of  our  Religion. 

How  many  professors  of  Christianity  have  considered  the  things 
which  I  have  specified,  as  decisive  proofs,  that  themselves  were 
good  men !  Yet,  if  I  mistake  not,  it  has  been  clearly  shown  that 
all  of  them,  miited,  furnish  no  solid  evidence  of  this  met.  We  are 
just  as  liable  to  be  deceived  as  others;  and,  unless  peculiarly 
guarded,  by  the  very  same  means.  Others  have  rested  their  hopes 
of  salvadOn  on  these  things,  as  proofs  of  their  religious  character, 
and  have  been  deceived.  If  we  rest  on  them,  we  shall  be  de- 
ceived also:  for  we  may  possess  all  these  things,  and  yet  not  be 
Christians.  In  a  case  of  this  moment,  nothing  ought  voluntarily 
to  be  left  at  hazard.  We  are  bound  by  our  own  supreme  interest, 
as  well  as  our  duty  to  God,  to  fulfil  the  command  of  the  text;  to 
examinej  and  to  prove^  ourselves^  whether  we  be  in  the  faith;  and 
in  doing  this,  to  make  use  of  the  best  means  in  our  power;  to  fasten, 
with  as  much  care  as  possible,  on  those  things  which  the  Scrip- 
tures have  made  tests  of  a  religious  character ;  and  earnestly  to 
pray  to  God,  that  we  may  not  be  deceived,  either  by  oiu'selves.  or 
oy  any  others. 

2diy.  From  the  same  source  we  learinfiilso^  the  impropriety^  and 
folly  ^  of  making  these  things  the  foundation  of  our  judgment  con» 
ceming  the  religious  character  of  others. 

Whenever  we  determine,  that  others  are,  or  are  not.  Christians, 
because  they  exhibit  these  as  evidences  of  their  Christianity;  we 
are  plainly  uable  to  gross  error  concerning  this  subject.  All  these 
things  may  be  truly  testified  concerning  himself  iy  a  Christian;  and 
with  equal  truth  by  k  person  destitute  of  Christianity.  They  are, 
therefore,  no  proofs  of  his  religion,  or  irreligion. 

Still,  a  great  multitude  of  professing  Christians,  many  of  whom, 
I  doubt  not,  are  really  Christians ;  and  all,  or  nearly  all,  enthusi- 
astic professors ;  make  these  very  things,  or  the  Want  of  them,  the 
foundations  of  their  favourable,  or  unfavourabie,  opinions  of  the 
religious  character  of  others.  They  resort  to  them,  as  to  an  ac- 
Imowiedged  and  Scr^)tural  standard,  which  they  do  not  expect  to 
find  disputed ;  and  to  question  which  would  not  improbaoly  be 
rerarded  by  them  as  a  proof  of  irreligion. 

What  is  still  more  unhappy ;  among  various  classes  of  Christians 
in  this  countrf,  these  very  thines ;  particularly  those,  mentioned 
under  the  first,  second,  ana  fifth  neads  of  this  discourse ;  are,  if  I 
tm  not  misinformed,  not  unfrequenlly  made  the  objects  of  a  pubUc 
examination  of  candidates  for  admission  to  Christian  communion, 
and  the  foundations  of  a  public  jud^ient  concerning  their  religious 
character.  To  be  able  to  rememoer  the  time,  when  convictions 
of  sin  began,  with  their  attendant  distresses,  and  the  time,  when 


SMB.  Lxxxfau  or  iBGVifEiiAimr. 


thej  were  followed  by  hopes,  consolations^  and  joys ;  to  have  had 
these  occasioned  by  the  sudden,  uncontrived,  and  une;cpectcd  in*< 
iux  of  certain  passages  of  Scripture  into  the  mind ;  especially,  if^ 
according  to  a  pre-established  and  acknowledged  sdheme  of  Re- 
generation among  themselves,  these  things  have  taken  place  in  a 
certain  order  of  successioii ;  stiU  more  especially,  if  the  sorrows 
and  consolations  have  risen  very  high ;  and,  most  of  all,  if  they 
are  succeeded  by  distinguished  zeal  about  things  pertaining  to 
Religion;  are  boldly  pronounced  ample  evidence  of  the  can- 
didate's piety.  In  this  manner,  there  is  reason  to  fear,  multi-* 
tudes  are  miserably  led  astray,  both  by  being  induced  beforehand 
to  labour,  that  these  things  may  be  truly  said  of  themselves  ;  and 
by  settUng  down  in  a  state  of  security  on  this  false  foundation 
t^erwards* 

Nor  is  the  case  less  unhappy,  when  persons  rest  their  hopes  on 
their  exactness  in  performing  the  external  duties  of  Religion  and 
Morality.  Yet  vast  numbers  of  mankind  repose  themselves  on 
thesc^  as  on  a  bed  of  down ;  and  feel  satisfied,  that  God  will 
not  finally  condemn  persons,  who  have  laboured  so  much  in  his 
service.  All  of  them  will,  however,  find  in  the  end,  that  to  such 
as  have  done  all  this,  and  nothing  more,  (me  thing  is  lacking: 
Yiz.  an  interest  in  Christ:  a  thing,  wMiout  which  they  cannot  be 
saved. 

Sdly.  We  see  the  dangit^  being  strongly  cor^dtrU  in  the  piety  of 
oursthts  or  others. 

All,  or  nearly  all,  such  confidence,  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  has 
been  derived  from  these  supposed  evidences  of  Religion ;  any  part, 
or  the  whole,  of  which  may  be  possessed  by  men  totally  destitute 
of  Christianity.  It  is  a  fatal  mark  on  them  all,  that  the  Scriptures 
have  no  where  alleged  them  as  proofs  of  reheion.  As  they  are  not 
Scriptural  proofs,  3iey  cannot  be  sound.  To  trust  in  them  is  to 
trust  in  a  nullity.  Acccndingly,  those  who  give  the  fairest  prooft 
of  Christianity  in  their  life  and  conversation,  never  make  these 
things  the  foundation  of  their  hope ;  and  are  very  rarely  found  to 
be  strongly  confident  of  their  acceptance  with  God. 

To  pronounce  boldly,  that  others  are  Christians,  is,  in  many 
cases  at  least,  equally  hazardous.     There  are  many  persons,  how- 
even  who  rounoly  declare  others,  of  whose  life  they  have  had  litde 
or  no  knowledge,  to  be  Christians ;  and  others  not  to  be  Christians, 
whose  conduct  and  conversation  give  them  at  least  as  fair,  and 
often  fairer  claims  to  this  character.    Nay,  they  will  peremptorily 
make  these  assertions  concerning  Ministers  oi  the  Gosnet ;  and 
pronounce  some  to  be  sanctified,  and  Others  unsttdetifiea,  from  a 
sermon  or  a  prayer ;  or  even  from  the  tones  of  voice,  with  which 
they  are  uttered.  Judgtnot^  saith  our  Saviour,  thatyebe  not  judged. 
For  with  what  judgment  ye  judge^  ye  shall  be  judged;  and  with  what 
measure  ye  mete^  it  shall  be  measured  to  you  again.     Who  art  thoUj 
saith  Si.  Paulf  thai  judgest  another  man^s  servant?     To  his  own 

Vol.  hi.  4 


A 


IIPAT  ABE  NOT  SYIDENCES,  ke.     USBSLLOXmL 

Matter  he  eianiethj  orfalUth*  It  is  sufficient,  to  show  the  impio 
*  priety  and  rashness  of  these  unwarrantable  decisions,  that  thej  are 
founaed  on  no  Scriptural  or  solid  evidence.  They  are  generally 
built  on  the  Very  thmgs,  exploded  in  this  discourse,  or  others,  of 
still  less  importance ;  all  of  which,  united,  go  not  a  smgle  step  to- 
wards provmg  a  religious,  or  an  irreligious  diaracter. 


I . 


•i' 


SERMON  LXXXIX. 

wriDurcES  of  regeneration* — ^what  are  real  evidences.    • 


S  Co&nrrBiAvs  xiiL  6. — ExamUu  yowndou  wheiher  m  6e  In  tit  fitUh  t  prow  fotr 
ownnlvet;  knov  ye  not  jfowr  own  telvUf  how  thai  JiiUi  CMd  u  in  jfou  exeipi  m 
henfTobattif 

IN  the  last  discourse,  I  attempted  to  point  out  several  things  which 
furnish  no  real  evidence  of  Regeneratum,  although  they  have  been 
supposed  to  furnish  it  by  multitudes  in  the  Christian  world*  I  now 
propose  to  mention  several  other  things^  which  attually  furnish  suck 
evidence. 

By  all  who  believe  the  doctrine  of  Regeneration,  as  formerly 
taught  in  these  discourses,  it  must  be  admitted,  that  the  disposition 
communicated  when  this  work  is  accompBshed  in  us,  is  new;  and 
something,  which  before  did  not  exist  in  the  soul.  If  it  were  the 
mere  increase,  or  some  other  modification,  of  the  former  disposition, 
man  could  not  be  said  to  be  bom  again;  to  be  created  anew;  to  be 
a  new  creature;  to  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  his  mind.  It  could 
not  be  sdidhy  St.  Paul  concerning  persons,  who  wei*e  the  subjects 
of  Regeneration,  thato/c/  things  were  passed  away  in  them^  ana  that 
all  tlungs  had  become  new. 

It  must  further  be  acknowledged,  that  this  new  disposition  is, 
m  its  nature,  opposite  to  that,  ^niich  before  existed  in  the  mind. 
The  former  disposition  is  Sin;  condemned,  and  punished,  by  the 
law  of  God:  the  new  disposition  is  Holiness;  required,  and  re- 
warded, by  the  same  law*  The  former  disposition  is  hatefiil  in 
the  sight  of  God:  the  new  one  lovely,  and  of  great  price. 

The  former  disposition  is  fircauently,  and  justly,  styled  Selfish^ 
ness  ;  as  beine  perpetually  employed  in  subordinating  the  interests 
of  any,  and  all,  others  to  the  private,  personal  interests  of  the  in- 
dividual, in  whom  it  prevails*  The  new  disposition  is  with  the 
same  propriety  styled  Disinterestedness  ;  Love;  Good-will;  Benev* 
olence;  a  spint,  inclining  him,  in  whom  it  exists,  to  subordinate  his 
own  private  mterest  to  the  general  welfare,  and  to  find  his  own 
happiness  in  the  common  prosperity  of  the  divine  kingdom*  The 
part,  the  place,  and  the  enjoyments,  which  God  assigns  to  him  as  a 
member  of  this  kingdom,  he  is  inclined  to  take,  not  with  submis- 
sion only,  but  with  cheeriubess ;  as  being  that,  which  is  ordered 
by  infinite  Wisdom,  and  is  therefore  the  best,  and  most  desirable* 

This  new  disposition  is  also  opposed  to  the  former,  particularly 
as  it  regards  our  Maker*  The  former,  or  carnal  mtnd  is  enmity 
against  God;  opposed  to  his  character,  and  to  his  pleasure :  tlie 


S8  WtiAfir  ARE  EVID£NC£8  [8ER.  LXXXB. 

new  one  is  conformed  to  his  pleasure,  and  delighted  with  his  char- 
acter. He^  in  wl^oizt  it  exists,  delights  in  the  law  of  God  afi^r  the 
innerman}  and  tsiuma  it  as  more  to  bt  chosen  than  the  most  fine 
gold,  and  sweeter  than  honey  and  the  honey-^comb. 
^  The  former  disposition  is  an  impenitent  devotion  to  sin ;  attend- 
ed, at  times,  and  after  some  of  its  grosser  perpetrations,  by  re- 
morse perhaps,  and  setf-oondemnation,  but  never  bv  a  real  loath- 
ing of  the  sin  itself,  nor  by  that  ingenuous  sorrow  for  it,  which  is 
after  a  Godly  sort.  The  new  disposition  is  a  real  hatred  of  sin ;  a 
smcere,  and,  if  I  may^  ao  term  it,  an  instinctive  sorrow  for  every 
transgression  of  the  divine  commands,  whenever  such  transgression 
is  present  to  the  view  of  the  mind. 

The  former  dispoaUion  was  a  general  spirit  of  unbelief,  or  dis- 
trust, towards  God,  his  invitations,  promises,  and  designs :  a  dis- 
trust, especially  exercised  towards  the  Redeemer,  and  towards  his 
righteousness  as  the  foundation  of  our  acceptance  with  God*  The 
new  one  is  a  humble,  stcadfiast,  affectionate  confidence  in  God,  his 
declarations,  and  designs ;  exercised  particularly  towards  Clmst, 
as  the  Saviour  of  mankind,  the  propitiation  for  sin,  and  the  true 
and  living  way  to  eternal  glory.  This  confidence,  or,  as  it  is  most 
usually  termed  in  the  New  Testament,  this/oiVA,  is  a  vital  principle 
in  the  soul,  producing  every  act  of  real  obedience ;  every  act,  in 
man,  which  is  pleasing  to  God« 

In  all  these  particulars,  united,  the  new  disposition  is  termed 
Godliness  or  Piety. 

The  former  disposition  is  incline. 1  to  the  indulgence  of  those  lusts, 
or  passions  and  appetites,  which  immediately  respect  ourselves ; 
such  as  pride,  vanity,  sloth,  lewdness,  and  intemperance.  The  new 
one  is  opposed  to  all  these ;  is  humble,  modest,  diligent,  chaste, 
and  temperate.  In  this  view,  it  is  styled  Temperaneej  Moderation^ 
or  Self-government. 

As,  in  all  these  things,  the  spirit,  communicated  in  our  regener- 
ation, not  only  differs  so  greatly  from  that,  which  we  possess  by 
nature,  but  is  so  directly  opposed  to  it;  it  must.be  admitted,  that, 
in  all  its  operations j  it  carries  with  it  some  evidence  of  its  existence  m 
the  same  manner,  as  our  sinful  disposition  carries  with  it  evidence  of 
its  existence.  He  who  denies,  that  holiness,  in  a  renewed  mind, 
can  be  evidenced  by  its  nature  and  operations,  must  also  deny, 
either  that  any  moral  character  whatever  can  be  perceived  to  ex- 
ist, or  that  a  holy  disposition  is  capable  of  the  same  proof  as  a  sin- 
ful one.  That  this  is  philosophy,  too  unsound  to  be  adopted  by 
a  sober  man,  is  so  evident,  as  to  need  no  illustration.  Indeed,  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  any  man  will  openly  aver  this  doctrine  5 
although  multitudes  assert  that  which  involves  it.  Certainly,  a 
Sinner,  who  examines  his  own  heart  and  life,  must  discern,  that  he 
is  sinful :  with  equal  certamty,  an  Angel  must  discern,  that  he  him- 
self is  holy. 


*  « 


*  ■  ■  » 

f 


8CR.  LXmX.]  OP  RSOUBUmON.  S9 

From  what  has  been  said  of  the  nature  of  the  renewed  disposi- 
tion it  is  clear,  that  the  man,  who  repents  of  hid  sins ;  who  believes 
in  Christ;  who  loves,  and  fears  God;  who  disinterestedly  Idves 
his  neighbour,  and  forgives  his  enemies ;  and  who  employs  himself 
daily  in  resisting,  and  subduing,  his  own  passions  and  appetites ;  « 
must  have  same  consciousness^  that  he  does  tk^P  things,  h  this  cott* 
sciousnessy  as  it  continually  rises  up  to  the  vUmofthe  mindj  consist  the 
primary  or  original  evidence,  that  we  are  Christians.  Indeed,  all 
the  evidence  of  this  nature,  which  we  ever  possess,  is  no  other 
than  this  consciousness,  variously  modified,  and  rendered  more  ex- 
plicit, and  satisfactory,  by  the  aid  of  several  things,  with  which, 
from  time  to  time,  it  becomes  connected. 

Having  made  these  general  observations,  I  shall  proceed  to  state  ^ 
the  following  particulars,  in  which,  I  apprehend,  this  evidence  will 
be  especially  seen. 

1st.  77lc  renewed  mind  relishes  all  Spirittial  Objects. 

Every  man  knows  what  it  is  to  relish  natural  objects  5  such  as 
agreeable  food,  ease,  warmth,  rest,  friends,  beauty,  novelty,  and 
grandeur.  Every  man  knows,  that  these  objects  are  reKshea^  alsoj 
tn  themselves  ;  for  their  own  sake  ;  as  being  in  themselves  peasant 
to  the  mindj  independently  of  consequences,  and  of  all  other  extra* 
neous  considerations.  In  the  same  manner,  according  to  what  is 
here  intended,  are  spiritual  objects  relished  by  the  renewed  mind,- 
A  Christian  regards  the  character  of  God,  the  character  of  Christ, 
the  divine  law,  the  Gospel,  and  his  own  duty,  as  objects  pleasing 
in  their  own  nature.  Thus  David,  of  the  religious  exercises  of 
whose  mind  we  have  a  more  detailed  account  than  we  have  of 
those  of  any  other  Scriptural  writer,  says  concerning  the  Statutes 
of  the  Lord^  that  they  are  right ^  rejoicing  the  hearty  more  to  be  de* 
sired  than  gold,  yea,  than  much  fine  gold^  sweeter  than  honey,  and 
the  honey-comb.  And  a^in ;  How  sweet  are  thy  words  unto  my 
taste  !  yea,  sweeter  than  honey  to  my  mouth.  I  love  thv  commana" 
ments  above  gold,  yea,  above  fine  gold.  And  again  ;  Whom  liave  I 
m  heaven  but  thee?  And  there  is  none  upon  the  earth,  whom  J  desire 
beside  thee.  Oh  taste,  and  see  that  the  Lord  is  good  I  Be  glad  in 
the  Lord,  and  rejoice,  ye  righteous  ;  and  shout  for  joy,  all  ye  upright 
in  heart!  With  these  expressions  of  David  correspond  all  the 
declarations  of  the  other  divine  writers,  wherever  they  arc  made. 
Thus  St.  Paul  says,  /  count  all  things  but  loss,  for  the  excellency  of 
the  knowledge  of  Christ.  Thus  also,  the  same  Apoistle  says,  Ide- 
light  in  thelaw  of  the  Lord  after  the  inward  man. 

This  doctrine  has  been  extensively  illustrated  in  the  sermon 
lately  delivered  on  the  subject  of  Joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost ^  and  there- 
fore, will  need  the  less  illustration  here. 

It  ought,  however,  to  be  remembered,  that  a  delight  in  these 
things,  oecause  of  some  benefit,  which  we  have,  or  imagine  our- 
selves to  have,  derived  from  them,  or  which  we  hope  to  derive 
from  them  immediatply,  or  from  the  relish  of  them ;  whether  it  be  ' 


^ . 


30  >WHAX  ARE  EVIDENCES  [SER.  LXXXOL 


the  fevour  of  Gdd,  comforting  evidence  of  ourchristianity,  or  any 
other  benefit  whatever ;  is  not  the  kind  of  relish,  of  which  I  speak. 
This  is  directed  towards  the  things  themselves ;  as  being  in  them- 
selves deUghtful  to  the  taste  of  the  tnind.     If  the  character  of  God 
is  excellent ;  it  cannot  but  be  supposed,  that  this  excellence  must 
*be  relished  by  a  person,  suitably  disposed ;  and  thaty  although 
#ihiis  person  were  to  be  ignorant  oi  any  manner,  m  which  he  him- 
-^self  was  to  derive  personal  benefit  from  it. 
'  *     .   Wherever  this  relish  exists,  it  will  ordinarily  show  itself  not 
•  only  in  the  manner,  in  which  the  mind  immediately  regards  spi- 

'•  r^  ritual  objects,  but  in  its  remoter  operation^     Thus,  if  a  man  real- 
'  '   ly  relishes  the  worship  of  God,  he  will  be  apt  to  be  regularly  em- 

-   ^ .    plo)red  in  it  at  all  proper  seasons.     He  will  find  himself  inclined 

'"\'-  to  ejaculatory  prayer;  to  pray  in  his  closet,  in  the  family,  and  in 
the  Church.  If  he  loves  tne  Scriptures ;  he  will  be  apt  to  read 
them  regularly,  much,  and  often.     If  he  relishes  the  company  of 

^  •    religious  persons  5  he  will  naturally  freauent  it ;  seek  it ;  and  de- 

.     .     rivQ  from  it  when  enioyed,  a  sensible  pleasure. 

To  secret  prayer  tnere  seems  to  be  hardly  any  allurement,  suf- 
,  ficient  to  keep  the  regular  practice  of  it  alive  for  a  great  length  of 

f  time,  beside  a  relish  lor  communion  with  God.  It  is  plain,  that 
secret  prayer  cannot  be  continued,  with  a  view  to  be  seen  of  men, 
or  the  nope  of  acauiring  reputation.  As  in  its  own  nature  it  can- 
.  not  but  be  disrelished  by  every  sinner ;  it  seems,  as  if  it  must,  of 
course,  be  soon  dropped,  where  piety  does  not  keep  it  alive. 
Thus  Job  seems  to  have  reasoned,  when  he  said  concerning  itu 
hypocrite^  Will  he  delight  himself  in  the  Almighty  ?  Will  he  always 
call  upon  God?  Job  xxvii.  10.  As  if  he  said,  "He  yrill  notdcr 
light  himself  in  the  Almighty  5  and  thei^efore,  will  not  always,  or 
throughout  life,  continue  to  pray  to.  God:  but  will  cease  from 
this  practice,  after  the  casual  feelings,  and  views,  which  gave 
birth  to  it,  have  ceased  to  operate."  A  continued  relish  for  se- 
cret prayer  furnishes,  thererore,  a  strong  and  hopeful  testimony, 
that  we  are  Christians. 

■  St.  John  informs  us,  that  the  love  of  Christians^  also,  is  a  satis- 
factory proof,  that  we  are  Christians.  Hereby  we  know,  that  we 
have  passed  from  death  unto  life^  because  we  love  the  brethren.  As 
this  subject  was  extensively  considered  in  tl^e  discourse  on  Bro» 
therly  Love  ;  it  will  be  unnecessary  to  dwell  upon  it  here.  It  will, 
however,  be  proper  to  observe,  that  we  are  not,  in  the  present ' 
case,  supposed  to  love  Christians,  because  they  are  our  personal 
friends  5  or  because  they  have  been,  or  are  expected  to  oe,  use- 
ful to  us ;  but  because  they  are  Christians ;  ana  on  account  of  the 
excellence  and  amiableness  of  the  Christian  spirit,  which  they 
possess  and  mamifest.  For  this  reason  God  loves  them ;  that  is, 
with  the  love  usually  termed  Complacency ;  and  for  this  reason 

*        jonly;  since  he  can  plainly  receive  no  benefit  from  them.    For  the 
9aiQ^  reason  they  are  loved  by  their  fellow-Christians. 


3 


SER.  LXXX1X.]  OF  REGENERATION.,  3] 

• 

In  order  to  know  whether  we  love  them,  it  will  be  proper  to  ask 
oursflvcs  the  questions,  mentioned  in  the  discourse  alluded  to. 
*•  Do  we  love  their  goodness  of  character?  Do  wc  seek  their 
crinpany  ?  Do  we  relish  their  conversation  ?  Do  we  lake  plea- 
^ure  in  their  Christian  conduct  ?  Do  we  pray  for  their  prospority, 
thrir  holiness,  and  their  salvation  ?" 

I  will  only  add,  under  this  head,  that  with  respect  to  all  spiritf^ 
uil  objects  wc  are  carefully  to  inquire,  whether  we  relish  them  at 
all ;  and  whether  we  relish  them  for  themselves ;  for  the  excellence,  ' 
which  they  possess  5  or  for  some  apprehended  benefit,  which  may 
be  derived  Irom  them  to  ourselves,  * 

2d\)\Rtal  religion  is  always  accordant  with  the  dictates  of  Reason^ 
enlightened  hy  Revelation. 

By  this  I  intend,  that  it  is  not,  on  the  one  hand,  the  mere  result 
of  nassion,  afiection,  or  impulse ;  as  in  every  case  of  Enthusiasm  5 
ana  that  it  is  not,  on  the  other,  the  result  01  mere  philosophy,  or 
the  decisions  of  human  Reason,  unenlightened  by  rcvtlabon ;  as 
is  the  case  with  the  professed  Natural  Rehgion  of  Deists.  The 
good  conscience  of  a  good  man  is,  on  the  one  hand,  purged  frmn 
these  dead  works;  and,  on  the  other,  exercises  such  a  control  . 
over  all  the  afiections,  as  to  direct  their  various  operations,  steadi- 
ly, towards  that,  which  the  Scriptures  have  pronounced  to  be  true 
and  right. 

Rciidon,  in  the  Scriptural  sense,  is  a  reasonable^  not  a  casual, 
nor  an  instincdve,  service.  Man  acts  in  it  not  as  an  animal,  un- 
der the  mere  impulse  of  animal  affections :  not  as  a  subject  of 
mere  passion;  not  as  a  creature  of  mere  imagination;  nor  as  a 
mere  subject  of  all  these  united,  but  as  a  rational  being,  in  whom 
the  understanding  governs,  and  in  whom  the  affections  only  aid, 
animate,  and  obey.  There  are  Christians  in  profession,  whose 
religion  seems  to  be  nothing,  but  a  compound  of  mere  impulses, 
and  affections.  There  are  others,  whose  religion  appears  to  be 
little  else,  beside  a  cold,  heardess  collection  of  propositions,  or 
doctrines,  quiedy  lying  side  by  side  in  the  understanding,  without  ^ 
any  influence  on  the  heart,  or  on  the  life.  In  the  Relijgion  of  the 
Gospel,  the  Heart  is  plainly  made  the  great  essential ;  but  it  is  /A4 
hearty  under  the  steady  direction,  and  rational  control,  of  the  under^ 
standing.  Real  Christianity  is  the  Energy,  or  Active  pomer,  of  the 
sold,  steadily  directed  to  that,  which. is  bdievedto  be  right j  anathtu 
directed  toii,  merely  because  it  is  right.  That,  which  is  aimed  at, 
is  loved,  and  pursued,  because  of  its  rectitude,  admitted  on  satis- 
fectory  and  solid  evidence. 

From  this  source,  the  renewed  man  is  furnished  with  important 
evidence  of  his  sanctification.  If  he  finds  in  himself  a  steady, dis* 
position  to  learn,  as  far  as  possible,  the  true  import  of  the  doctrines 
and  precepts  of  the  Gospel,  and,  in  this  manner,  the  real  nature 
ofhis  owD  duty:  if  he  loves  moral  rectitude  in  such  a  degree,  as 
anxiously  to  inquire  what  it  is ;  and  if,  when  he  has  learned  what- 


33  WHAT  ARE  EVIDENCES  [SSR.  LXXXEL 

> 

it  is,  he  is  disposed  to  yield  to  proof  and  conviction,  and  pursiie 
his  duty,  because  it  is  seen  to  be  his  duty  :  he  may  jusdy  be  satis- 
fied, that  he  is  really  renewed.  ^ 

9at  if,  on  the  contrary,  he  is  accustomed  to  obey  the  casual 
impulses  of  feeling  and  imagination :  if  he  is  disposed  to  think 
highly  of  passages  of  Scripture,  not  because  they  are  the  word  of 
God,  or  are  excellent  in  themselves ;  declaring  important  truths, 
or  enjoining  important  duties ;  but  because  they  have  come  into 
;  the  mind  siradenly,  accidentally,  and  without  any  forethought  of 
his  own  t  if  he  is  mclined  to  prize  such  texts  more  than  others,  or 
more  than  he  prized  the  same  texts  before:  if  he  is  disposed  to 
think  highly  of  sudden  starts  of  feeling,  of  thoughts,  and  purposes, 
unexpectedly  coming  into  the  mind,  and  to  regard  them  as  pro- 
duced by  an  extraordinary  divine  agency,  and  therefore  to  value 
them  highly  as  peculiar  tokens  of  the  favour  of  God,  and  as  au- 
thoritative and  safe  guides  to  his  own  duty:  if  he  is  fond  of  indulg- 
ing a  lively  imagination  about  the  things  of  religion :  of  forming  to 
himself  awful  views  concerning  the  world  of  misery,  and  the  suf- 
ferings of  its  inhabitants;  or  bright  and  beautiful  visions  of  the 
light  and  splendour  of  heaven,  and  the  glory  of  its  inhabitants ;  or 
charming  images  of  the  person  of  Christ,  as  beautiful  in  form,  rav- 
ishing in  aspect,  and  surrounded  with  radiance  5  or  as  meek,  gen- 
tle, looking  with  compassion,;  or  smiling  with  complacency,  on 
himself:  if  he  is  inclined  to  rest  on  these  feelings,  and  impulses, 
as  the  peculiar  foundations  of  his  hope,  consolation,  and  confi- 
^dence ;  or  as  any  foundations  of  hope  and  confidence  at  all :  I  will 
not  say,  that  such  a  man  is  not  renewed ;  but  I  will  say,  that  he 
trusts  without  evidence,  and  builds  upon  sand.    I  will  further  say, 
that  he  is  miserably  deluded  with  regard  to  this  great  subject ; 
that  he  feeds  on  wind,  and  not  on  ifooa ;  and  that  by  directing  his 
eye  to  false  objects,  from  which  he  never  can  derive  any  real 
good,  he  loses  the  golden  privilege  of  gaining  solid  support,  and 
Evangelical  comfort,  from  those  sources  whence  alone  God  has 
intended  they  should  be  derived. 

3dly.  The  prevalence  of  a  meek  and  humble  disposition  furnishes 
the  mnid  with  good  reason  to  believe^  that  it  is  renewed* 

The  natural  spirit  of  man  is  universally  proud  and  irritable. 
No  part  of  the  human  character  is  more  predominant,  more  plea- 
sant to  ourselves,  more  deceitful,  or  more  universal.  At  the  same 
time,  as  we  might  expect,  none  is  so  much  cherished  by  the  mihd« 
A  great  part  ot  the  perfection,  aimed  at,  and  delineated,  by  the 
wise  mea  of  heathen  antiquity,  was  formed  of  pride.  Stoical  pridt 
U  proverbial.  The  love,  of  glory,  according  to  Ctcero,.  was  yri^  • 
tue,  or  real  excellence  of  character. 

Devoted  as  we  are  to  the  indulgence  of  pride,  it  is,  perhap% 
of  all  passions  the  most  unwoilhy  and  mischievous ;  the  most  ir* 
ritable,  the  most  unforgiving,  the  most  wrathful,  the  most  coiiten*^ . 
tious,  and  the  most  oppressive.    The  world  has  been  iSUed  by  it 


1 ' 


f. 


LXXZO.]  OF  REGENERATION.  33 

with  private  quarrels  and  public  wars ;  with  wretchedness  aC  the 
firesiae ;  with  turmoil  in  me  neighbourhood ;  and  with  bloodshed 
and  desolation  in  the  great -scenes  of  national  activity.  It  has 
brought  forth  the  tyrant ;  and  nursed  the  conqueror. 

The  Religion  01  the  Gospel  has  laid  the  axe  at  the  root  of  this 
passion.  Christ,  the  glorious  Author  of  this  Religion,  has  exhib- 
ited, in  his  own  life,  a  character  perfectly  contrasted  to  pride,  ia 
every  degree,  and  in  every  exercise.  This  character  he  has 
beautifiiUy  expressed  in  that  memorable  and  delightful  declara- 
tion, subjoined  to  the  most  condoling  invitation,  and  the  happiest 
tidings,  ever  published  to  the  children  of  men.  Come  taUo  rnt^  all 
ye  that  labour^  and  are  heavy  laden  ;  and  I  wiU  give  you  rest.  Take 
my  yoke  upon  youj  and  learn  of  me^  for  J  am  meek,  and  lowly  m 
heart  /  aiw  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls^  In  conformity 
with  this  declaration,  nis  whole  life  was  a  life  of  meekness  and 
humility.  In  conformity  with  this  declaration  also,  he  has  every 
where,  in  the  Grospel,  preferred,  as  was  remarked  in  one  of  the 
discourses  on  his  character,  the  meek  and  lowly  virtues  to  the 
magnanimous  and  splendid  ones.  He  has  inculcated  them  often- 
er )  has  dwelt  on  them  more ;  has  enjoined  them  in  stronger  terms ; 
and  has  made  them  in  a  higher  degree  indispensable. 

As  these  wirtues,  then,  arc  such  a  prominent  and  essential  part 
of  Christianity ;  it  will  be  easily  seen,  that  thev  must  be  found  in 
(7ery  Christian.     So  long  as  pride  is  the  predominating  spirit  of 
nan,  he  must  know,  if  acquainted  at  all  with  himself,  tnat  he  is 
not  sanctified.  A  great  part  of  the  influence  of  the  l^irit  of  sancti- 
fication,  is  employed  in  annihilating  this  haughty^  self-dependent 
disposition.     One  of  the  first  perceptible  efiects  of  this  influence 
is  tnc  humilitv  of  the  Gospel.  A  humble  mind  is,  of  course,  meek, 
little  disposed  to  feel  provocations  deeply ;  uninclined  to  construe 
them  in  the  worst  manner ;  and  still  more  indisposed  to  requite 
them  with  wrath  and  revenge.    What  is  thus  the  natural  result  of 
the  Christian  spirit  is  continually  strengthened  by  the  genexai  dis- 
position of  the  Christian  to  obey  the  precepts,  and  to  follow  the- 
example,  of  his  Master ;  both  conspiring  to  enforce  on  him  the 
same  conduct  in  the  most  powerfiil  manner.    He.  biows,  that 
Christ  has  required  the  same  mind  which  was  in  himeM'j  (and  pe- 
culiar' in  this  respect)  to  be  in  all  his  followers.     He  sees  the 
beauty  and  gloir  of  the  disposition  in  his  great  example.    He 
knows,  that  notning,  without  it,  will  render  lum  acceptable  to 
God,  or  qualify  him  for  admission  into  his  kingdom.     With  these 
wiffttj  motives  m  view,  it  seenis  unpossible,  tnat  this  disposition, 
met  Deeun  in  the  soul,  should  fail  to  manifest  itself,  in  some  good 
dsgee,  oy  its  genuine  and  happy  efiects. 
^The  evidence,  which  it  funushes  to  the  mind  of  its  renovation, 
iifeiro4b|L    Its  former  dispositions  are  weakened ;  and  new  ones 
knre  bMtt^  to  prevail  in  their  place.    Pride  is  enfeebled  in  all  its 
operations ;  the'  propensity  to  wrath  is  lessened ;  and  humility  and 

vou  in.  5 


S4  WHAT  ARE  EVIDEIfaBS  [9SB.  LXXXQL 

meekness,  (not  an  insensibility  to  injuries,  but  a  serene  quiet  of 
soul  under  them)  Iiave,  like  beautiful  twin  sisters,  entered  the  mind, 
and  made  it  their  permanent  habitation. .  , 

He,  who  finds  this  his  own  state,  possesses  desirable  eiddence, 
that  he  is  a  Christian. 

4thly.  Without  a  prevailing  spirit  of  eentleness  towards  others^ 
we  cannot  have  sound  and  St^riptural  evidence  of  our  Christianity. 

This  is  a  kindred  subject  to  the  last.  The  natural  character  of 
man  is  rough,  revengeful,  and  unforgiving ;  disposed  to  overbear, 
to  carry  his  measures  by  force  and  violence,  to  Usten  Httle  to  the 
wishes  and  reasons  of  others,  and  to  arrogate  to  himself  and  his 
concerns,  an  importance,  which,  all  impartial  persons  see,  does 
not  belong  to  them. 

To  this  spirit,  also,  the  Gospel  is  directly,  and  equally  opposed. 
It  enjoins,  every  where,  a  spirit  of  gentleness,  moderation,  and 
forgiveness,  towards  all  men.  Its  author  was  wonderfully  distin* 
^shed  by  softness  and  sweetness  of  disposition.  Hie  never 
intruded  on  the"  rights  of  others.  He  usea  no  force,  nor  even 
wrought  a  single  miracle,  to  vindicate  his  own.  He  neither  criedj 
nor  t^ied.uoj  nor  caused  his  voice  to  be  heard  in  the  streets.  In  the 
garden  he  nealed  the  ear  of  Mq^lchus  ;  and  on  the  cross  he  prayed 
for  his  murderers.  At  the  same  time  he  reguired  all  hid  followers 
to  possess,  and  exhibit,  the  same  gentle  ana  forgiving  disposition, 
on  pain  of  not  being  otherwise  themselves  forgiven.  Nay,  he  has 
forbidden  them  to  ask  forgiveness,  of  God  upon  any  other  condi- 
tion.. The  servant  of  the  jLord^  saith  St.  Paulj  must  not  strive j  but 
' '  ht  g^^^  towards  ali  men. 

The  existCKDce,  and  influence,  of  this  part  of  the  Christian  char* 
acter,  are  especially  ieen  in  cases  where  we  have  been  injured, 
and  towards  those  who  have  injured  us.  If,  beside  ouietly  receiv- 
>ing  injuries,  we  exercise  a  benevolent  spirit  towaras  those  who 
nave  done  diem ;  if  we  can  lay  aside  all  tnoughts  of  retaliation  \  if 
we  can  show  them  kindness;  if  we  can  rejoice  in  their  prosperity; 
if  we  can  feel  and  relieve  their  distresses;  if  we  can  heartily  pray 
|br  their  well-being ;  we  have  good  reason  to  conclude,  that  (A« 
iomt.mindj  which  was  in  Christ j  is  also  in  us. 

5thly.  AwUlingness  to  perform^  accomtarded  by  the  actual  per* 
formance  of  the  duties^  required  by  the  Gospel^  is  an  indispensably 
evidence  of  Christianity. 

There  are  multitudes  of  persons  in  the  Christian  world,  who  ap- 
pear to  place  Religion  greatly^  if  not  wholly j  in  such  feelings  of  the 
mind,  as  are  rarely,  or  never,  followed  by  any  of  those  overt  acts 
of  obedience,  which  are  commonly  callea  Christian  duties.  Their 
for«,  contrary  to  the  injunction  given  by  St.  John,  appears  to  exist 
wdy  in  word,  and  in  tongue  ;  not  in  deed,  and,  therefore,  we  have 
reason  to  fear,  not  in  truth.  We  find  persons  of  this  character 
willing  to  converse  much  on  religious  subjects ;  to  dwell  on  the 
nature  of  religious  affections ;  to  canvass  abundantly  the  doctrines 


KR  LXXZn.]  (QF  REGENERATION.  35 

of  the  Gospel ;  to  explain  minutely  the  nature  of  its  precepts ;  to 
expose  such  tenets  of  others,  as  they  esteem  erroneous;  to  defend 
strenuously  such,  as  they  think  true;  and  often  to  mix  with  all 
these  things  not  a  little  censure  of  those,  who  differ  from  them  in 
opinion  and  character.  I  will  not  ^ay,  that  these  persons  are  des« 
titute of  Religion;  but  I  will  say,  that,  so  far,  they  furnish  litde 
reason,  why  others  should  believe  them  religious. 

Real  Relijdon  is  ever  active ;  and  always  inclined  to  do,  as  well 
as  to  sm.  The  end,  for  which  man  was  made,  and  for  which  he 
was  recieemed,  was,  that  he  might  do  good,  and  actively  glorify  his 
Creator.  To  this  end  all  the  instructions  and  precepts  of  the 
Gospel  were  ^ven ;  all  the  blessings  of  Providence ;  and  all  the 
influences  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  All  tnesei  therefore,  are  frustrated, 
and  are  without  efficacy,  where  men  do  not  thus  ftct.  The  busi- 
ness of  a  Christian  is  not  to  say  to  others.  Be  ye  warmed^  and  be  yt 
filled }  depart  in  peace  ^  but  to  feed  and  clothe  them.  This,  I 
acknowled^,  may  be  done  by  such  as  are  not  Christians ;  but  he, 
who  does  it  not,  cannot,  so  far  as  1  see,  be  a  Christian.  Active 
obedience  is  the  only  visible  fruit,  by  which  our  rieligious  character 
is  discovered  to  others;  and  the  fruit,  by  which,  in  a  maimer  pe- 
culiarly happy,  it  is  known  to  ourselves. 

To  render  this  evidence  of  our  sanctijication  satisfactory ^  it  should, 
in  the  first  place,  he  uniform. 

By  this  I  intend,  that  our  active  obedience  should  proceed  in  a 

mannery  generally  regular,  through  life.     I  intend,  tnat  it  should 

Dot  exist  by  fits  and  starts ;  be  cold  to-day,  and  warm  to-morrow  \ 

now  zealous,  now  indifferent ;  at  one  time,  animated^  by  a  strong 

sense  of  heavenly  things,  at  another,  absorbed  in  thotfie  of  earth  | 

at  one  time,  chantable,  perhaps  even  to  exciess,  at  another,  zoith' 

holding  mate  than  is  meet :  ana  all  this,  according  to  the  rise,  and 

prevalence,  of  different  natural  feeling3.   The  spirit  of  Christianity-  -> 

18  one  in  its  nature,  and  therefore  uniform  in  its  operations*  These, 

indeed,  are  diversified,  as  the  objects,  which  thev  respect,  varv«    . 

Thus  the  same  disposition  sorrows  for  sin,  which  rejoices  in  tne  .  \ 

Holy  Ghost ;  and  is  at  peace  with  itself,  while  it  contends  with  ill 

tpintual  enemies.    Still,  a  single  character  runs  through  them  all ; 

<fiffering  indeed  in  degree,  but  not  m  kind.     Under  its  influerce, 

the  life  will  wear  one  general  aspect.     By  ourselves,  therefore,  if 

we  exmine,  and  by  others,  who  are  attentive  to  our  conduct,  it 

will  be  seen  to  be  01  the  same  nature,  and  to  produce  the  same  ef-    , 

fects,  throughout  the  progress  of  life  I  do  not  mean,  that  we  shall 

not  backslide ;  or  that  we  shall  not  have  lukewarm,  uncomforta- 

Ue,  unprofitable,  and  unexemplary  seasons.     These,  unhappily, 

lecmr  but  too  often.    A  field  of  wheat  may  srow,  with  different 

rigour ;  may,  at  times,  be  checked  by  cold,  eind  stinted  by  droueht ; 

and  may,  at  other  times,  and  under  the  influence  of  refreshinir 

showers,  and  kindly  seasons,  flourish  with  strength,  verdure,  ana 


^  tnkkT  ARE  ETIDENCES  [SER.  T.YTTTg 

beauty.    Still  it  wilT  ahrays  be  a  field  of  wheat,  and  not  of  tares 
and  darnel. 

Secondly.  This  obedimct  must j  for  the  same  end^  be  Universal. 

By  this  1  intend,  that  it  must  extend  alike  to  all  those  duties^  which 
immediately  respect  God^  owrfellowcreatures^  and  ourselves.  Real 
firtue,  or  the  religion  of  the  Gospel,  never  exists  by  halves.  There 
is  no  such  thing,  30  being  pious,  and  not  benevolent;  or  being  be- 
nevolent, and  not  {nous ;  or  being  both,  and  not  self-governed. 
Religion^  in  this  sense^  is  a  spirit  of  obedience  to  God;  and  regards 
all  his  commands  alike. 

Vj  then,  we  would  derive  fix)m  our  obedience  that  satisfactory 
evidence  of  our  Christianity,  which  it  is  capable  of  furnishing ;  we 
should  examine  ourselves  concerning  our  whole  conduct,  and  in- 
/;ruire  how  fiaor  it  wears  this  universal  character.  We  should  in- 
quire  diligently  whether  we  regularly,  and  steadily,  employ  our- 
selves, at  all  proper  seasons,  m  the  worship  of  God ;  in  reading 
the  Scriptures;  m  communion  with  Christians;,  in  conmiunion 
with  our  own  hearts ;  in  watchine,  striving,  and  praying,  against 
our  Iust9  within,  and  our  enemies  without;  in  overcoming  the 
worlds  the  fleshy  and  the  devil ;  in  resisting,  especially,  the  fiu^ 
which  most  easily  beset  us  ;  in  raising  our  thoughts  ana  afiections 
to  Heavenly  objects ;  and  m  endeavouring,  effectuallv,  to  make  in 
the  present  life  preparation  for  eternity.  Universally,  we  should 
mquire  whether  *we  live  alwav  in  the  fear,  love,  and  service  of 
God ;  with  a  spirit  of  depend:ence,  confidence,  submission,  con- 
tentment, and  gratitude. 

Among  the  duties  to  which  we  are  summoned  by  the  Gospel, 
those,  which  we  owe  immediately  to  our  fellow-creatures,  ana  to 
ourselves,  are  there  exhibited  as  being  of  very  high  and  indis- 
pensable importance.  They  are  every  where  insisted  on  in  the 
plainest,  strongest,  and  most  affecting  manner ;  are  commended, 
ureed,  enjoined  and  promised  a  reward,  fi'om  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  the  Bible.  At  the  same  time,  the  neglect,  and  the  viola* 
tion,  of  them,  are  condemned  in  the  severest  terms ;  and  threaten- 
ed, under  the  most  glowine  images,  with  the  severest  punishment* 
Who^  says  the  Psalmist,  shall  aoide  in  thy  tabernacle  ;  who  shall 
dwell  in  thy  holy  hill  ?  He^  that  walketh  uprightly,  and  tborketh 
right co^isness,  and  speaketh  the  truth  in  his  heart ;  that  bacldnteth 
not  with  his  tor^uej  nor  doeth  evil  to  his  neighbour,  nor  taketh  tp  a 
reproach  against  his  neighbour  ;  in  whose  eyes  a  vile  person  is  con* 
temntd  ;  but  he  honoureth  them,  that  fear  the  Lord :  ne  that  sweafy^ 
eth  to  his  oron  hurt,  and  ehangeth  not :  He,  that  putteth  not  oui  hi$^\ 
money  to  usury,  rwr  taketh  a  reward  against  the  innocent.  He,  thai 
doeth  these  things,  shall  never  be  moved.  If  ye  forgive  men  their 
trespasses,  said  our  Saviour  to  his  disciples,  your  Heavenly  JPhf- 
tker  will  also  forgive  you :  But,  if  ye  forgive  fu>t  men  their  trU'* 
pOMes^  neither  wUl  your  Heavenly  Father  forgive  you  your  tres* 
pgsses.     The  servant,  who  owed  ten  thousand  talents  to  his  Lord, 


LxxxDL]  or  BMBKuufiadl  ar 

fed  his  debt  readily  fbrgiven.    But,  wbm  he  oppressed  his  fellow^ 
acTFant,  his  Lord  delivered  him  ortaf  to  the  tcmiieiitcvs,  till  he 
diocdd  pay  the  debt*    ^  any  man  wUl  not  work,  neither  let  Mm 
uU»     If  anjf  provide  not  far  his  own,  and  especially  for  those  ^ 
his  own  house;  he  hath  denied  the  faUh,  and  is  worse  than  an  im^ 
4d»    Be  not  deceioedy^Qj^  St.  Pavdj  neither  formeaitors^  noridoU»^ 
iersjnor  adulterers,  nor  thievesj  nor  covetousT^  nor  drunkards,  no0 
reoilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  Ood.    Bless*  ^ 
cily  says  David,  is  he,  thai  eonsidereth  the  poor  }  the  Lord  will  do» ' 
lEotr  him  m  time  of  troubled    And,  what  may  serve  instead  of  tf 
▼ohone  upon  this  subject,  Christ,  seated  on  the  throne  of  final 
jod^ment,  will,  as  he  declares,  say  to  them  on  his  right  hand,  Come^ 
ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  preparod  for  you  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world :  For  I  was  an  hmgered,  and  ye  gave  mo 
wseeU  ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink  ;  7  was  a  stranger,  mUl 
ye  took  meinf  naked,  ana  ye  clothedme}  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visiied 
mo:  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  wiinistered  unto  me :  and,  inasmuch  em 
yo  md  it  unto  ofte  of  the  least  of  these,  mp  brethren  ;  ye  did  U  unto 
me.     To  them  on  the  lefi  hand,  he  will  also  siUf,  Depart,  ye  cursed^  . 
Mto  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels*    Fottt 
wtf  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  no  meat}  I  was  thirsty,  and  yo 
gmoeme  no  drink}  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  not  in;  naked^ 
msd  ye  clothed  me  not;  sick,  asul  in  prison,  and  ye  visited  me  not  t 
mfd^  inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  to  the  least  of  these,  my  brethren  f  y^ 
Sdit  not  tome. 

From  these  passages  of  Scripture  it  will  be  seen  irresbtibljTtthii 
d^  duties  of  these  two  classes  are,  in  the  eye  of  God,  of  incal- 
criable  importance,  and  are  inditpensable  to  the  Christian  character 
mud  to  the  attabuneni  of  salvation. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  for  a  moment,  however,  that  I  intend  to 
nnefer  these  dudes  to  those,  which  immediately  respect  God* 
nitty,  certainly,  holds  the  first  place  in  a  virtuous  character :  bm 
logman  loves  God,  who  does  not  love  his  fellow-men,  and  control 
Ibb  own  passions  and  appetites.    M  the  body  without  the  spirit  i§ 
' ;  so  faith  toithout  good  works  is  dead  also.    He,  that  takeA 
his  cross,  and  followeth  after  me,  is  not  wsortlw  of  me. 
rhere  is  one  point  of  view,  in  which  these  outies  more  effect, 
tnally  evince  the  Christian  chapter,  and  prove  the  reality  of  ouf^ 
SddoD,  than  most  of  those,  which  are  classed  under  the  name' 
if  Rety.     It  is  this :  7%^  ordsnarHy  demand  a  greater  degru  of 
m^'denial.    A  man  may  ordinarily  practise  the  visible  duties  oF  - 
MCy,  widiout  anv  serious  sacrifice  of  his  worldly  inclinatiooik  . 
He  may  read  the  Scriptures ;  and  teach  theni  to  his  children*   Ha  « 
My  atteiki  the  w<xvhip  of  God  in  his  fiatmily,  and  in  the  sanctuary, 
■e  may  be  present  in  private  religious  assemblies.    He  may  con* 
Mne  much,  and  often,  on  religiotts  subjects*    He  may  be  ^^^ 
msJom  alxrat  all  diese  duties.    He  may  commune  s^  the  table  of 
Ckrist.    He  ma  J  prmdi  the  GoqpeL    Vet,  instead  of  crossing  Ur 


K 


S8  WQAf  ABE  HOT  EVIDElfCES  pen  rxTTif 

inclinations,  or  denying  himself,  he  may  feel,  that  he  is  purchasing 
a  Christian  character  at  a  cheap  rate ;  that  he  is  secunng  to  him- 
self the  best  friends ;  that  he  is  opening  an  easy  way  to  distin^- 
tion,  to  influence,  and  in  the  end,  to  wealth ;  and  that  he  is,  upon 
the  whole,  making  in  this  manner,  a  very  e;ainful  bargain.  liay, 
be  may,  in  this  manner,  more  easily  than  m  any  other,  quiet  his 
own  conscience;  persuade  himself,  that  he  is  a  Christian;  feel 
satisfied,  that  he  has  a  title  to  eternal  life ;  and  thus,  while  he 
thinks  he  is  performing  his  duty,  be  only  seeking  for  the  pleasure, 
firand  in  these  things ;  pleasure,  which,  though  derived  from  sacred 
objects,  is  merely  natural ;  and  diflfers  in  nothing  important  from 
that,  which  is  furnished  by  pleasant  food,  fine  weather,  or  a  beau- 
tiful landscape. 

But  when  a  man  is  called  to  resist  his  passions  and  appetites ; 
when  he  is  reauired  to  be  humble,  meek,  patient,  forgiving,  just, 
sincere,  mercinil,  sober,  chaste,  and  temperate ;  when  he  is  re- 
quired to  communicate  his  property  liberally  to  the  poor,  the 
stranger,  and  the  public ;  and  practically  to  remember  the  words  of 
the  LordJeiuSj  how  he  saidy  It  is  more  blessed  to  give^  than  to  re* 
uhe :  he  is  required,  of  course,  to  sacrifice  the  lust  of  the  fiesh^ 
AAe  lust  of  the  ejfesj  and  the  pride  ofljfe.  He  is  required  tb  give 
up  his  pride,  vanity,  ambition,  anger,  avarice,  and  sensuality. — 
These  darling  inchnations,  which  constitute  what  is  called  in  the 
Scriptures  the  love  of  the  worlds  together  with  all  the  objects,  on 
;  which  they  are  pampered,  he  is  obDged  to  yield  up  to  the  love  of 
^God. 

Mothine  more  strongly  evinces  the  sincerity  of  any  professions, 
dian  the  met,  that  they  are  followed  by  serious  self-deniaL  Ac- 
cordingly, the  Scriptures  have  placed  peculiar  stress  upon  self- 
denial,  as  evidential  of  the  genmneness  of  a  Christian  profession. 
ff  any  man  will  be  my  disciple,  said  our  Saviour,  Let  him  deny  hinh 
Hlfy  and  take  tw  his  cross,  and  follow  me.  If  any  man  wiu  sape 
kis  life,  he  shall  lose  it ;  and,  if  any  man  will  lose  his  life  for  my 
take,  he  shall  find  it.  Go,  and  sell  all  that  thou  hast,  said  he  to 
the  young  Ruler,  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  come,  and  follow  me; 
and  ttum  shall  have  treasure  in  heaven.  Love  not  the  world,  says  Sim 
John,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world.  If  any  man  love  the 
thrld,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him. 

When,  therefore,  we  find  the  love  of  the  world  actually  prevail- 
ing, and  clearly  manifested  m  the  life  and  conversation  of  persons^ 
who  make  a  profession  of  religion ;  the  evidence  of  their  piety,  of 
whatever  nature  it  may  be,  must  be  exceedingly  diminished  in  the 
eve  of  sober  charity.  Whatever  aseal  they  may  discover  in  at- 
t&ding  upon  public  or  private  worship ;  biowever  well  they  may 
eonverse  upon  religious  subjects ;  wnatever  feelings  they  inaj 
dtocover  in  sueh  conversation ;  and  whatever  bright  discoveries 
dbey  may  seem  to  enjoy  concerning  the  mercy  or  glory  of  God,  or 
the  love  and  excellence  of  Christ ;  if^  still,  they  are  greedy  of  ea^ 
elilQrbed  in  the  worid ;  peevish ;  discontented ;  wrathfiil;  slotnfiil) 


•    « 


8EB.  UXnZ.]  OF  REOfiNSRATIplf.   /  39 

sensual  ^  unfeeling ;  vain  of  their  attainments ;  uncharitable ;  par^  . 
ticulariy,  if  the^  are  eagerly  en^ged  in  the  pursuit  of  places 
power,  populanty,  and  fome ;  and  more  particularly  still,  if  they 
refuse  to  give  to  the  poor,  or  give  leanly  and  grudfi;mgly,  or  deny 
aid  to  others  in  other  distresses ;  there  will  be  httle  reason  left  to 
believe  them  children  of  God.  How  can  these  persons  expect 
Christ  to  say  at  the  final  judgment,  /  was  an  kungeredj  and  ye  gave 
me  meat ; .  I  was  a  stranger j  and  ye  took  me  in  ;  ruikedj  and  ye  cloth* 
edme;  sick,  and  ye  visited  me  ?  How  can  he  say,  Ye  did  it  tmio 
the  Udst  of  these^  my  brethren  ?  Were  he  on  earth,  and  should 
tell  them,  as  he  told  the.  young  Ruler,  Go^  and  sell  all  that  thm 
hast,  and  give  to  the  poor;  would  they  not  go  away  sorrowful t 
Would  they  not  feel,  that  even  to  have  treasure  in  neaven,  upon 
these  conditions,  would  be  a  hard  bargain  ? 

There  have  been,  there  are  still,,  mmtitudes  of  mankind ;  and  it 
is  to  be  feared,  that  in  this  land,  and  at  the  present  time,  the  num- 
ber is  not  small ;  of  those^  who  intend  to  go  to  heaven  with  a  cheap 
reli^on :  a  religion,  in  which  the  love  of  the  world  is  made  to  har- 
monize with  the  love  of  the  Father.  Thb  religion  consists  of  feel- 
ings, views,  discoveries,  conversation  about  mese  and  other  reli- 
g'ous  subjects,  and  zeal  in  attending  upon  external  religious  duties* 
tit  whoso  hath  this  world* s  good,  and  seeth  his  brother  have  needf 
andskutteth  up  his  bowels  of  compassion  from  him;  how  dwelleth  ths 
lave  of  God  in  him? 

It  is  easy  for  any  man,  who  thinks,  that  he  is  loved  of  God,  to  * 
love  Him  in  turn.  But  this  is  not  that  love  of  God,  which  he  re-  ^ 
quires.  The  feelings,  and  views,  which  do  not  prompt  us  to  vir- 
tuous conduct,  are  of  no  value.  If  we  would  prove  ourselves  to 
be  Christians;  we  should,  then,  diligently  ask  ourselves  whether 
we  aim  at  being  stricdy  just,  sincere,  and  faithful;  whether  we  ac- 
tually show  kindness  to  all  men,  whether  fiiends  or  enemies,  stran- 
gers or  neighbours;  whether  we  do  good,  and  lend,  hoping  for 
nothing  again;  whether  we  befriend,  and  promote,  public,  useful, 
and  charitable  designs;  employing  both  our  substance  and  efibrts, 
as  either  mav  be  needed ;  whether  we  love  the  souls  of  others,  op- 
pose their  sms,  and  promote  in  them  reformation  and  piety ;  and 
iHiether  we  are  watchfully  sober,  chaste,  temperate,  dihgentin  otir 
callings,  and  active  in  our  opposition  to  every  worldly  lust. 

Finally ;  concerning  all  these  ^things  we  should  carefiilly  ask 
whether  we  take  delight  in  such  a  life,  as  this ;  and  that  notwith- 
standing all  the  opposition,  ridicule,  and  contempt  of  the  world. 

Among  the  different  acts,  or  kinds,  of  obedience,  also,  particular 
attention  is  due  to  those  which  involve  peculiar  sf  If -denial.  When 
the  avaricious  man  becomes  generous  and  charitable ;  the  ambi- 
tious man  contented  with  his  circumstances ;  the  proud  man  hum- 
bled ;  the  wrathful  man  meek ;  the  revengeful  man  forgiving ;  and 
the  sensualist  sober,  chaste,  and  temperate ;  in  a  woid,  when  we 
drcqp  our  reigning  sins,  and  assume  the  contrary  virtues,  of  set  and    . 


t-l 


M  WHAT  ABB  BflDBNCES  {KB.  T.Trtll, 

corditl  purpose :  we  are  furnished  with  strong  reason  to  belieTe, 
Aat  we  are  Christians* 

'  Sthly*  TTu  Increase  of  all  these  things  in  the  mind,  and  life^  iiy 
perhaps,  the  clearest  of  all  the  evidences  of  Personal  Religion. 

St.  Paid  informs  us,  that  he  did  not  count  himself  to  have  appro* 
ktnded :  that  is,  he  did  not  consider  himself  as  havmg  attained  that 
degree  of  excellence,  which  belonged  to  his  Christian  profession. 
Bbtf,saith  he,  this  one  thing  I  do :  or  perhaps,  as  the  omission  in  the 
text  is  supplied  by  Doddndge,  this  one  thing  I  can  say :  Forgetting 
ike  things  which  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  to  those  which  are 
before,  (in  the  Greek,  reaching  out  eagerly)  I  press  toward  the 
jmark,for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  omr 
Lord.  What  was  the  conduct  of  Paul  is  the  duJtu  of  all  Christians; 
and  is  accordingly  enjoined  by  him  in  the  following  verse.  In 
greater  or  less  degrees  it  is  \ht\r  conduct  ako*  They  are  directed 
so  to  run,  that  they  may  obtain}  and  to  grow  m  grace,  and  in  the 
knowle^e  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christy  to  increase,  andabownd,  in  love 
ot^  towards  another,  and  towards  all  men. 

As  it  is  the  duty  of  Christians  to  fulfil  these  precepts  ;  so  it  is 
the  nature  of  Chnstianity  to  accord  With  them,  by  increasing,  from 
tone  to  time,  their  strength  and  vigour*  The  more  the  spirit  of  the 
Gospel  is  exercised,  the  more  we  love  to  exercise  it*  The  more 
the  pleasure  found  in  it,  is  enjoyed,  the  more  it  is  coveted*  Tlie 
more  habitual  its  principles  and  practices  become,  the  greater  it 
the  strength  which  they  acquire*  Indeed,  nothing  is  vigorous  and 
tpowerfiil,  in  man,  beside  that  which  is  habitual*.' 

Hence  it  is  plain,  that,  in  investigating  our  leligious  character^ 
we  should  examine  it  with  a  particular  reference  to  its  growth*  To 
flfow  is  its  propter  nature*    If  it  is  not  seen  to  grow,  then,  we  either 
A^  not  see  it  as  it  is ;  or  it  does  not  exist  in  us,  in  its  genuine  charac* 
ter ;  but  is  feeble,  fading,  sickly,  clogged  with  incumbrances,  and 
in  a  great  measure  hidden  from  view*    Man  is  never  for  any  length 
of  time  stationary*     Either  he  is  advancing  or  receding,  in  every 
tlung  which  pertains  to  him ;  and  in  Religion,  as  truly,  as  in  his 
natural  endowments,  or  acquisitions*    Declension  in  Religion,  I 
need  not  say,  furnishes  a  melancholy  evidence,  that  we  are  not 
religious*    It  is  no  less  obvious,  that  a  regular  progress  in  its  va- 
rious graces,  and  attainments,  must,  on  the  contrary,  become  a 
clear  and  delightful  testimony  of  our  Christian  character*     There 
^18  not  onljr  itiore  of  Religion  to  be  seen  in  ourselves ;  but  it  is  dis- 
cerned ^th  clearer  conviction,  and  certainty,  to  be  genuine; 
because  it  appears  as  real  Religion  naturally  appears,  in  its  own 
proper  character  of  growth  and  improvement*    He,  who  loves, 
ibsurs,  and  serves  God  more  and  more;  who  is  more  and  more  just, 
sincere,  and  merciful,  to  his  fellow-men ;  and  who  is  more  and  mora 
self-eovemod  in  all  his  appetites  and  passions,  weaned  from  tha 
world,  andildiEttiially  and  heavenly  minded ;  cannot  want  the  best 
reasons,  fiuntflied  in  our  present  state,  to  beHeve,  that  he  is  a  cbiM 
of  God. 


■  » 


■  t 

SERMON  XC. 

STIDSirCES  OF  REGKNERATION. — ^DIFFICULTIES,   ATTEVDIVQ  THt 
APPLICATION  OF   THESE   EVIDENCES    TO   OURSELVES. 


S  Cmuitriavs  xiii.  6. — ExmMinit  younehu  whether  w  be  in  the  fiUh  t  prove  yem 
•WW  adwu;  knfiw  ye  nof  ywr  own  eeleee,  how  thai  jeeut  Chriet  u  in  yra  exeepi  jis 
koreprokeAut 

In  the  last  discourse  but  one,  I  proposed,  from  these  words,  to 
examine, 

!•  Somt  of  the  Imaginary  evidences  of  Regeneration; 

IL  Some  of  the  Real  evidences  ;  and, 

III.  Some  of  the  Diffictdties^  which  attend  the  Application  qf  then 
real  evidences  to  ourselvesm 

There  has  been  much  debate  in  the  Christian  world,  concerning- 
the  fbith  of  Assurance  ;  or  as  it  <is  in  better  language  stvled  bv  St. 
Paul,  the  full  Assurance  of  hope.  The  Question  deoated  has,  how* 
ever,  not  been,  whether  men  felt  assured^  that  they  were  Christians^ 
hU  whether  this  assurance  has  been  evangelical,  or  built  on  satisfac" 
toryand  Scriptural  evidence*  That  such  a  faith  has  existed  I  have 
no  doubt ;  nor  do  I  see  how  it  can  be  rationally  doubted.  That 
die  Aposdes  were  evangelically  assured  of  their  own  piety,  and 
consequent  salvation,  must  be  admitted  by  all,  who  believe  the 
Scriptures*  /  have  fought  a  good  fight,  says  St.  Paul,  I  have  k^i\ 
Aefaithm  Henceforth  there  is  laid  iw forme  a  crown  of  righteous* 
ness.  For  me  to  live  is  Christ ;  to  die  is  gain.  We  know,  says  St. 
John,  that  we  have  passed  ffom  death  unto  life. 

From  the  accounts  given  us  concerning  tne  first  Mart)nrs,  I  think 
we  cannot  hesitate  to  admit,  that  they  also  were  the  subjects  of  the 
nme  faith.  Nor  is  the  evidence  concerning  a  number  of  those, 
who  have  lived  and  suffered,  in  modem  times,  less  convincing  to 
me.  These  men  have,  in  various  instances,  lived  in  a  manner  em« 
inendy  evangelical ;  have  devoted  themselves,  through  a  long  pe- 
riod, to  the  service  of  God,  with  so  much  humility,  self-denial, 
miifonnity,  steadfastness,  and  evangelical  zeal;  have  laboured  for 
the  ^ood  of  their  fellow-creatures  mth.  so  much  disinterestedhess, 
chanty,  and  constancy ;  have  lived  so  much  above  the  world,  and 
with  a  conversation  so  heavenly ;  that,  when  they  are  declaring 
themselves  possessed  of  this  faith,  and  have  died  widi  peace,  ana 
exultation,  which  must  be  supposed  to  result  from  it,  we  cannot, 
imless  by  wilful  rejection  of  evidence,  hesitate  to  admit,;  that  they 
were  possessed  of  this  enviable  attainment.  Indee^bi  wn  hardlr 
doabc,  that  any  man,  who  reads  their  history  with  ibiaour,  wiU 

Vol.  IIL  6 


* 


o 


'*  yl    ^  KVIDEIVCES  OF  REGENERATION.  [SSR.  Za 

<.'  '  teadily  admit  the  doctrine,  so  far  as  the  men,  to  whom  I  refer, 
i|re  concerned.  But,  if  these  things  be  admitted,  it  will  probably 
.,  lie  readily  conceded,  that  there  are,  in  every  country,  and  in  eye- 

aee^  where  Christianity  prevails,  some  persons,  who  enjoy  the 

lith,  jMf  Hope,  of  assurance. 

At  the  same  time,  I  am  folly  persuaded,  that  the  number  of  these 
persons  is  not  very  great.  If  the  Christians,  and  Ministers,  with 
,wlitai  I  have  had  opportunity  to  converse,  many  of  whom  have 
been  eminently  exemplary  in  their  lives,  may  be  allowed  (o  stand 
as  representatives  of  Christians  \n  general ;  it  must  certainly  be 
true,  that  tbe  faith  of  assurance  is  not  common. 

Indeed,  t  am  persuaded,  that  this  blessing  is  much  more  fre- 
quently experienced  in  times,  and  places,  of  affliction  and  [>erseeii- 
Uon,  than  in  seasons  of  peace  and  prosperity.  Severe  trials  aiiid 
sufferings  furnish,  of  themselves,  clearer  proofs  of  the  piety  of 
those  mio  are  tried,  than  can  ordinarily  be  furnished  by  circum- 
stances of  ease  and  quiet.  The  Faith,  which  will  patiently  sub* 
mit,  which  will  encounter,  which  will  endure,  which  will  overcome, 
in  periods  of  ereat  affliction,  has,  in  this  very  process,  both  ac- 
quired, and  exEibited,  peculiar  strength ;  and  furnished  evidence 
of  its  genuineness,  which  can  hardly  be  derived  from  any  othef 
source. 

At  the  same  time,  it  is,  I  think,  irresistibly  inferred  from  the  de- 
clarations, contained  in  the  word  of  God,  and  from  the  history  of 
his  providence,  recorded  both  within,  and  without  the  Scriptures, 
that  God,  in  his  infinite  mercy,  furnishes  his  children  with  peculiar 
support  and  consolation  in  times  of  peculiar  trial ;  and  that,  as 
their  day  is,  so  he  causes  their  strength  to  be.  Among  the  meana 
of  consolation,  enjoyed  by  Christians,  none  seems  better  adapt- 
ed  to  furnish  them  with  the  necessary  support,  under  severe  cus- 
tresses,  than  an  assurance,  that  they  are  Children  of  God.  Ac- 
cordingly, this  very  consolation  appears  to  have  been  given  to  the 
siiffering  Saints  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  as  a  peculiar  sop- 
,  port  to  them  m  their  peculiar  trials.  From  analogy  it  might  be, 
concluded,  and  from  the  history  of  &cts  it  may  with  the  strongest 
probability,  if  not  with  absdute  certainty,  be  determined,  that  die 

Sne  blessing  has  been  ^en,  in  times  of  eminent  affliction,  ta 
inls  in  every  succeeding  aee  of  the  Church. 
';  Still  there  is  ;io  reason  to  Uiink,  that  the  Faith  of  assurance  it 
generally  attained  among  eminent  Christians.  This  fact  has 
sometimes  been  called  in  (^estion;  sometimes  denied ;  and  oftenef 
wondered  at.  ^^  Why,"  it  is  inquired,  ^'are  not  Christians  oftener. 
nay,  why  are  they  not  generally,  assured  of  their  gracious  state  7 
There  certainly  is  a  difference  between  sin  and  holiness,  sufficiently 
broad  to  be  seen,  and  marked.  The  Scriptures  have  actual^ 
marked  this  difference  with  such  clearness,  and  exactness,  as  to 
ipye  US  ample  information  conc^ningbodi  the  nature,  and  thci 
uait%  of  ilMe  great  moral  liHributes*  They  have  separated  those 


4* 


Sn.XC)  KHDENCES  OF  RECffillERATIOli  ^.     ^. 

who  possess  themi  into  two  classes,  not  only  entirely  distinct,  but 
direcuy  opposite  to  each  other :  so  opposite,  that  the  one  class  if 
styled  in  them,  the  friends,  and  the  other  the  enemies,  of  God* 
Further,  they  present  to  us  various  means  of  judging,  by  which  we 
are  directed,  as  well  as  encouraged  and  enablec^  to  try^  asd  endr-. 
mate,  our  own  religious  character.    The  subject  is,  also,  so  spoten  * 
of  in  the  Scriptures,  as  naturally  to  lead  us  into  the  conclusion^ 
that  these  different  characters  may  be  distincdy  known ;  and  dbt "' ' 
it  is  our  duty  so  to  act,  as,  upon  the  whole,  to  form  satisfact<»y 
▼lews  concerning  our  moral  condition.    Finally ;  the  Writers  of 
the  New  Testament,  and  indeed  of  the  Old  also,  speaiE  of  them- 
selves, as  knowing  their  own  piety ;  and  of  others,  as  able  to  kttow      * 
tWn.'' 

To  these  observations  I  answer,  in  the  first  place,  that  holiness 
and  sin  aie,  in  themselves,  thus  clearly  distinguishable.  Angels 
cannot  but  know,  that  they  are  holy ;  and  fiends  that  they  are 
ttofiil. 

Secondly;  This  difference  is  sufficiendy  marked  in  the  Scrip- 
tures. If  we  saw  hoUness  in  ourselves,  exacdv  as  it  is  exhibited 
in  the  Scriptures;  that  is,  unmixed;  we  should  certainly  know 
ourselves  to  be  holy. 

Thirdly ;  Holy  and  Sinful  men,  are  just  as  different  fix)m  each 
other,  as  they  are  represented  in  the  Scriptures ;  but  this  does  not 
enable  uis  to  determine  which  they  are. 

Fourthly;  The  means,  furnished  us,  in  the  Scriptures,  of  judg- 
ing, concerning  our  reUgious  character,  are,  undoubtedlv,  the  best 
which  the  nature  of  our  circumstances  will  admit ;  ana  such,  as, 
if  correctly  applied  to  ourselves,  and  known  to  be  thus  applied, 
would  undoubtedly  decide  this  great  point  in  a  satisfactory  man- 
ner. Still,  this  does  not  infer,  that  it  usually  will,  or  can,  be 
thus  decided. 

Fifthly ;  We  are  undoubtedly  required,  in  the  Scriptures,  to  ex* 
amine  ourselves ;  and  the  penormance  of  this  duty,  while  it  is 
indispensable  on  our  part,  unquestionably  may  be,  and  is  of  great 
ioiportance  to  us ;  although  we  may  not,  as  a  consequence  of  it,  be- 
come possessed  of  the  Faith  of  Assurance. 

Sixthly ;  The  Writers  in  the  Old  a&l  New  Testament  did,  i^ 
many  instances,  certainly  know,  that  they  were  holy ;  but  they 
were  iniqpired.    It  will  not  therefore  follow,  that  others,  who  an  » 
munspired,  will,  of  course,  possess  the  same  knowledge  of  their 
own  state. 

Seventhly;  The  Scriptural  Writers  very  extensively  use  the 
words  ibioo,  and  knowledge^  not  in  the  sense  of  ahsolvU  science^ 
but  to  denote,  belief,  persuasianj  a  strong  hope,  &c. :  in  the  same 
manner,  as  these  terms  are  used  in  common  speech.  We  cannot^ 
therefiore,  certainly  conclude,  icom  the  use  of  these  terms  with  re- 
nect  to  this  subject,  that  the  divine  writers  expected  those,  to 
mom  they  wrote,  generally  to  possess  the  faith  of  Assuiance^ 


r 


V  "" 


44  ETIDfiNGES  OF  REOENERATION.  [8ER.  Xa 

Finally;  lti$  our  duty  to  possess  this  faith.  It  is  also  our  duty 
to  be  perfect.  Yet  St.  John  says  of  himself,  and  all  other  Chris- 
tians, If  we  saj/y  that  we  have  no  sin,  we  deceivt  ourseheSj  and  thi 
truth  is  not  in  us.  As  therefore,  notwithstanding  this  duty,  no 
man  is  perfect ;  so,  notwithstanding  the  duty  of  obtaining  the  faith 
.  of  Assurance,  few  persons  may  actually  possess  it. 

The  real  difficulty  is  chiefly  passed  6y,  in  all  the  observatunUf 
made  above;  and  lies  in  applying  the  Scriptural  evidences  ofhoU* 
ness  to  our  own  particular  cases.  This  subject,  I  shall  now  attempt 
to  examine  in  several  particulars. 

The  difficulties,  which  attend  the  application  of  these  evidences 
to  ourselves,  arise  from  various  sources.  Amonff  them,  the  fol« 
lowing  will  be  found  to  possess  a  very  serious  influence. 

1st.  The  vast  importance  of  the  case. 

A  case  of  great  moment  is,  at  all  times,  apt  strongly  to  adtate 
our  minds.  Men,  deeply  interested  by  any  concern,  are,  tnerc- 
fore,  considered  as  less  capable  of  discerning  clearly,  and  judging 
justly,  than  the  same  men,  when  dispassionate.  As  this  is  the  sub- 
ject even  of  proverbial  declaration,  it  cannot  need  proof.  Th^ 
case  in  hand  is  of  infinite  moment  to  each  individual.  Whenever 
he  brings  it  to  view,  he  is  prone  to  feel  a  degree,  and  often  not  a 
small  one,  of  anxiety.  It  is  therefore  seen,  together  with  the.  evi- 
dences which  attend  it;  by  the  mind,  through  tnc  medium  of  dis- 
turbed feelings.  Earnest  wishes  to  find  satisfaction,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  strong  apprehensions,  lest  it  should  not  be  found,  on  the 
other,  naturally  disorder  that  calm  temperament,  which  is  so  neces- 
sary to  clear  investigation,  and  satisfactory  conclusions.  In  this 
state,  the  mind  is  prone  to  be  unsatisfied  with  its  own  investigation ; 
fears,  that  it  has  not  acted  impartially;  suspects,' that  it  has  not 
viewed  the  evidence,  possessed  by  it,  in  a  just  light ;  and,  when  its 
iudgments  are  favourable  to  itself,  is  prone  to  tremble,  lest  they 
have  been  too  favourable,  and  the  result  of.  biassed  inclinationsi 
rather  than  of  clear  discernment.  A  presumptuous  decision  in  its 
favour  it  perfectly  well  knows  to  be  full  of  daftger ;  and  is  ready  to 
think,  almost  every  favourable  judgment  presumptuous.  In  this 
situation,  all  such  judgments  are  apt  to  be  regarded  with  a  general 
suspicion;  and  the  mind  chooses  rather  to  continue  unsatisfied, 
ana  to  undergo  the  distresses  of  anxiety  and  alarm,  than  to  hazard 
the  danger  of  ill-founded  conclusions  in  its  own  favour.  Most 
Christians  are,  I  believe,  so  .strongly  convinced,  that  a  state  of ' 
anxiety  will  contribute  to  make  them  alive,  and  awake,  to  the  dan- 

§er  of  backsliding,  to  quicken  them  m  their  duty,  and  to  secure 
lem  from  carelessness  and  sloth ;  and  that,  therefore,  it  will  have 
a  happy  influence  toward  renderinj^  them  safe ;  as  willingly  to  judge 
too  unmvourably,  rather  than  too  iavourably,  of  their  own  rehgious 
character.  An  unfavourable  judgment,  they  know,  does  not  ren- 
der the  character  itself  any  worse ;  but  only  deprives  them  of  the 
consolation,  which,  with  more  favourable  views  of  it,  they  qugjhl 


Se]  MMMMICM  OF  BMSiaEKtfmi  M 

tojoy :  wiiile  the  coDtrarj  opinion  might  natarall j  alacken  them 
in  tlietr  duty ;  and,  perhaps,  prevent  mem  finally  from  obtaimng 
lalvation. 

9dly.  Another  source  o/difficulUei  %$  found  m  the  Peculiar  Jio^ 
haral  Character  of  thoit^  who  are  employed  in  this  investigatunu 

Some  of  these  persons  are  naturally  inclined  to  hope ;  others  to  . 
fietr :  some  to  cneerfulness ;  others  to  melancholy.  Some  are 
cash :  others  are  cautious*  Some  are  ignorant:  others  are  weB 
infonned.  But  die  evidences,  which  establish^  or  diould  estaUish^ 
t  &Tourable  judgment  of  our  Christian  character,  are,  in  sub* 
nance,  alwavs  the  same.  As  applied  to  persons  of  these  difierent 
characters,  they  must,  however,  oe  seen  in  very  different  U^hts  ( 
because,  although  Religion  is  the  same  thing,  ye^t  so  much  of  the 
peculiar  natural  character  of  the  man  remains,  after  he  has  become 
religious,  as  to  render  him  a  very  different  man  from  every  other 

U^ous  man.     Pou/  and  John  were  both  eminently  reiigiotii* 

beir  religion  was  the  same  thing;  but  the  men  were  widely  dif^ 
fetent  from  each  other*  If  Christians,  so  eminent,  and  excellenti 
could  differ  in  this  manner ;  how  much  more  different  fix>m  each 
other  must  be  ordinary  Christians !  How  much  more  must  the 
natural  traits  oC  character  renuin  in  them :  particularly,  such  as, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  are  sinful !  The  whole  object,  there''. 
fore,  presented  to  the  judgment  of  the  individual,  must  differ,  and 
sften  greatly,  in  different  cases. 

For  examue ;  one  person  becomes  the  subject  of  piety  after  t 
wise,  careful,  religious  education ;  eariy  and  uninterrupted  habiH 
of  conscientiousness ;  in  the  possession  of  a  naturally  sweet  aifd 
laiable  temper;  in  an  original  and  renlar  course  of  filial  duty, 
fraternal  kindness,  and  exemplary  condiict  to  those  around  him  | 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  life,  generally  commendable  and  loveiy^ 
Another,  scarcely  educated  at  all,  possessed  6f  a  roagh,  gtoas^ 
and  violent  disposition;  and  shamefully  vicious  from  early  m,  it 
mnrtififrf  in  the  midst  of  scandalous  indulgendes,  and  tfuik  habits 
tf  nn. 
It  is  perfecdy  obvious,  that  these  two-persons  will  differ  i 

from  each  other  in  the  visible  degree  of  that  change  of  i , 

wUeh  flows  firom  their  Religion.  The  former  vml  perhaps  be 
scaETody  changed  at  all  even  to  an  ohstrnnz  ejre :  for  he  nas  hereto^ 
fctedone,  ana  in  a  certain  sense  loved  to  m,  ii|  many  particulaii^ 
the  rorj  thing!;,  whi^  Reli^on requires,  and  to  wUcA it  promptsl 
and  tbos  the  tenour  of  his  life  will  seem  to  those  around  him  muek 
the  same,  after,  as  before,  his  Ccmversion.  The  latter,  sanctifieJ 
is  the  same  degree,  will,  it  is  plain,  change  almost  the  whdNl 
course  of  Am  conduct ;  and  assume  a  Hie,  entirely  new,  and  dired" 
lyonposile  to  that  which  he  led  beflKnne. 

Nor  win  the  cfiffsreoce  be  small  in  the  mtemal  state  of  these  fas- 
dbidaab.  Theaancdfied  afieetioos,  and  purposes,  of  die  fotmef 
will,i9inanyinstanix%iofaleBdA«naeWWwidk  those,  which  hi* 


I 


4$  SflDENCES  OF  RXOSIIXEAflOff.  pKR.  Xa 

ins  derived  from  nature  and  habit,  as  to  be  t>ften  distinguished  with 
difficulty,  and  not  unfrequently  to  be  entirely  undistinguishable« 
Those  of  the  latter,  on  the  contrary,  will  be  wholly  opposite,  in 
most  instances,  to  9JI  that  he  has  heretofore  thought,  felt,  and  de- 
signed. 

,  As  the  internal  and  external  conduct  of  these  individuals  is  the 
sole  groottd,  on  which  each  must- jud^e  of  himself,  as  well  as  be 
judged  oL  by  others ;  it  is  pcfrfect^  obvious,  that  the  objects,  con* 
cermng  wmch  they  are  respectively  to  judge,  are  widely  different 
from  each  other.  But  this  is  not  all.  TTu  apticsj  with  which  these 
persons  judge  concerning  their  religious  state,  will  plainly  be 
widely  diffeiient.  Our  dispositions  naturally  influence  our  judg- 
ment;  and  usually  enter  much  more  largely  into  the  opinions 
which  we  form,  than  we  are  aware.  Thus  a  person,  strongly  in- 
clined to  hope,  will,  almost  of  course,  judge  tavourably ;  when  a 
person,  equally  inclined  to  fear,  wbulo,  in  the  very  same  case, 
judge  unfavourably ;  concerning  hunselif.  Cheerful  persons  nato- 
rally  entertain  comfortable  views  concerning  themselves ;  those, 
who  are  melancholy,  such,  and  often  such  omy,  as  are  uncomfort- 
ble,  discouraging,  and  distressing.  The  rash,  form  bold  and  pre- 
sumptuous opinions  without  hesitation :  the  cautious,  admit  opin-^ 
ions,  fiatyourable  to  themselves,  slowly ;  even  when  they  are  ad- 
mitted upon  acknowledged  evidence.  The  ignorant  must  be  very 
imperfectly  fitted  to  consider  the  various  means  of  evidence,  all  of 
which  ought  to  be  consulted,  in  forming  our  opinions  concerning 
this  important  subject :  while  the  enlightened  Christian  must  be 
much  more  competent  to  draw  up  a  well-founded  determination* 
Sdly.  T%e  similar  natwre  ofthosty  which  we  call  MUural  vtems 
and  ejections  J  to  those  which  are  Evangelical^  furnishes  another 
source  of  these  difficulties. 

Love  and  hatred,  hope  and  fear,  joy  and  sorrow,  confidence  and 
shame,  together  with  various  other  affections,  and  views  of  the 
mmd,  really  exist,  and  operate  in  the  Christian,  as  Jfatural  views 
and  affections  ;  and  not  merely  Evangelical.  The  objects,  which 
exteite  these  affections  in  both  senses,  are  often  the  same.  The 
eniotions  themselves  are,  also,  so  much  alike,  as  perceived  by  the 
mind,  that  mankind  universally,  and  the  Scriptural  writers  as  well 
as. others,  call  them  by  the  same  names.  When  both  are  described 
by  those,  who  are  the  subjects  of  them,  the  description,  to  a  great 
extent,  is  commonly  the  same.  It  will,  therefore,  be  easily  beliey- 
ed,  that  they  are  so  similar  in  their  nature,  s^,  when  they  arise 
firom  the  same  objects,  to  render  it  difficult  for  the  Christian  in 
whom  they  exist,  and  at  times  impossible,  to  distinguish  them  boas 
each  other.  It  will  be  also  easily  seen,  that  when  ne,  who  is  not  a 
Christian,  has  these  affections  ai^d  views  excited  in  his  mind  by  the 
objects,  which  excite  the  corresponding  Evangelical  affections  in 
the  mmd  of  a  Christian,  he  may,  m  many  instances,  fijid  it  very  dif^ 
ficnlt  to  discern,  that  they  are  not  EvangelicaL 


ZC.]  SnDSHCM  CMT  BSGENfiUTIOICi  47 

To  illustrate  this  subject,  clearly,  to  the  view  of  my  aiidiencei 
I  will  consider  it  more  particularly. 

A  Christian  loves  God,  his  Son,  his  Spirit,  hili  Law,  bis  Gospel, 
his  Sabbath,  his  Worship,  and  bis  Children.  Why  does  he  love 
diem  ?  For  two  reasons.  One  is ;  their  nature  is  agreeable  to  /Ae 
relish  of  his  mind*  The  other  is  ^  they  are  usefuly  and  therefore 
pleasing  to  himself.  For  both  these  reasons  he  is  bound  to  love 
diem.  But,  when  he  regards  all  the  objects  with  this  affection,  it 
will  be  often  difficult,  and  sometimes  impossible^  for  him  to  deter* 
mine  whether  his  emotions  are  merely  natural,  wholly  Evaingelicali 
or  mixed.  He  knows,  that  he  exercises  a  love  to  God,  but  may  be 
vnable  to  determine  whether  he  loves  the  character  of  God,  con- 
sidered by  itself;  whether  he  loves  the  ^ivine  perfections  for  what 
diey  are ;  or  whether  he  loves  God,-  because  he  regards  him  as  a 
&iaid  to  himself;  and  delights  in  his  perfections,  because  he  con- 
siders them  as  engaged,  and  operating,  to  i»t)mote  his  present  and 
eternal  good.  It  would  be  difficult  for  most  persons  to  determinei 
precisely,  what  views  they  would  form  of  this  glorious  Being,  if  it 
were  revealed  to  them,  that  He  was  their  Enemy. 

As  it  is  often  difficult  for  the  Christian  to  distinguish  his  natural 
affinrtions,  irfiich,  so  long  as  he  is  a  man,  he  will  always  continue 
to  exercise,  from  the  corresponding  Evangelical  ones,  which  he 
exercises  atf  a  Christian :  so  it  must,  evidently,  be  more  difficult 
for  mn  unrenewed  tnan^  who  has  never  had  any  other  beside  natural 
ifections,  to  discern,  that  these  are  not  Evangelical.  When  he 
loves  God,  and  other  divine  objects,  in  what  manner  shall  he  de- 
tennine,  that  he  loves  him,  only  because  he  believes  him  reconcil- 
ed to  himself?  When  he  delights  in  the  divine  perfections;  it  irill 
sot  be  easy  for  him  to  see,  that  it  is  only  because  he  supposes  them 
to  be  engs^^  to  promote  his  welfare.  When  he  loves  the  Scrip- 
tures ;  it  will  be  oifficult  for  him  to  perceive,  that  it  is  only  because 
rf  their  sublimity  ^nd  beauty;  the  good  sense,  which  they  con- 
tain; the  happy  influence,  which  they  have  on  mankind ;  and  the 
oomfcrting  promises,  which  he  considers  them  as  speaking  to  him- 
idL  When  he  loves  Christians ;  it  will  often  be  beyond  his  power 
to  deiemune,  that  it  is  not  because  of  their  natural  amiabieness 
of  character;  the  a^eableness  of  their  manners ;  their  friendshipi 
or  kind  offices,  to  himself;  and  their  general  usefulness  to  others, 
with  whom  he  is  connected. 

A  person  is  quiet  under  provocations.  This  may  arise  from 
meekness.  It  may  also  arise  from  a  sense  of  the  wisdom,  the 
lity,  and  the  usefulness,  of  this  spirit.     He  is  kind  to  enemies. 

lis  may  arise  from  the  desire  of  obtaining  the  peculiar  evidence, 
that  he  IS  a  eood  man,  fiimished  by  this  exercise  of  Christian  be- 
nevofence ;  Srom  a  sense  of  the  nobleness  of  forgiveness ;  or  fix>m 
Ae  dancer  of  not  finding  himself  forgiven. 

I  mi^t  extend  this  course  of  thought  through  all  the  objects  of 
•df^ffammatioD  I  and  show,  that  similar  di%ttltiet  attend  theflii 


«.'. 


4t '  mmmMMH  ov  mo: 

aK«  ICvery  Christian  must,  I  think,  hare  txperienced  them  in  his 
own  case ;  and  every  person,  accustomed  to  convene  much  with 
Qlhtrs  on  the  eraunJis  of  their  hope  concerning  themselves,  must 
hiftve  perceived  them  continually  occurring  in  the  progress  of  eve* 
Vf  such  conversation* 

4(hly.  Aniothtr  wurct  of  tkU  iificidh/  i$  found  m  the  tramimi 
IMPture  of  M  our  Emottom. 

By  this  I  intend,  that  every  exercise  of  our  affections  has  onlr  a; 
IKimentarv  existence  in  the  mind.  It  rises ;  is  indulged ;  and  is 
fooe.  AU  our  knowledge  of  Ue  nature,  in  the  mean  time,  exiete  m 
me  Conscimuneei  of  t<,  while  it  iepaseing  ;  t»  our  Sememkremee  ef 
ikat  comciouenees,  known  to  be  impeifict  f  and  in  our  JlcjuainU 
anee  with  its  tfftde,  often  of  a  character  more  or  lea  doubtfid*  » 
Few  words  can  be  necessary  to  show,  that  our  knowledge  at 
xkese  exercises,  ^uned  in  this,  manner,  must  be  attended  hj  umaf 
in^rfections.  Our  opportunity  for  viewing  it,  while  it  is  pass* 
tag, is  so  short,  and  often  so  carelessly  employed;  ourremem* 
Wunce  of  it,  when  it  is  past,  is  so  &r  removed  finom  certain  a^ 
curacy ;  and  its  effects  may  be  so  easily,  and,  for  aug^t  that  ap» 
]^aars,  so  jusdy,  attributed  to  various  causes ;  that  the  whole  view, 
UdEen  of  them  by  the  mind,  will  frequently  be  obscure,  and  its  de- 
cision unsatisfabctory. 

Hence  appears  the  wisdom  offaetening  tmon  acouree  of  euok 
oaercisee  ;  as  furnishing  far  better  means  of  determining  our  ieli« 
gpous  character,  rather  than  resting  it  upon  a  few.  A  characttf 
may  be  successfully  discerned  in  manjf  exercises  of  a  similar  kimlf 
wfcich,  usually,  we  shall  attempt  in  vain  to  discover,  to  our  satisfiM> 
lion,  in  a  small  number.  A  thousand  blades  of  grass  will,  in  the 
Spring,  give  a  green  and  living  aspect  to  that  feld,  which,  mftlk 
ackmStred^  would  still  retain  me  n;|Bset  appearance  of  absokrls* 
death. 

5thiy.  Another  fruitful  source  of  the  same  dMcuUies  is  fiamisth 
^bu  the  Imperfect  state  of  Religion  m  the  mind. 

Ijiis,  indeed,  mav,  in  an  extensive  sense,  be  considered  as  the 
gisneral  source  of  tnem  all.  I  have  heretofore  observed,  that  An* 
gek  cannot  but  know,  that  they  are  holy ;  and  fiends,  that  ther  are* 
wi^d^  Were  we  perfectly  holy,  then,  we  should  certainly  xnoir 
dik  to  be  our  character. 

But  there  are  particular  difficulties,  attending  this  subject,  whick 
dMerve  to  be  maijbcd. 

The  mind  of  emif  Christian  experiences  mang  altemaiians  ^ 
holiness  and  sin.  Temptations  often,  and  unexpectedfy,  intrude* 
The  objects,  which  engross  the  whole  heart  of  the  sinner,  unhap* 
nljr  engage  at  times,  m  igreaUr  or  less  degrees,  that  of  the  Christiaob 
Kor  is  their  influence  alwavs  transient.  David,  Solomon^  and 
odier  Saints  mentioned  in  tne  Scriptures,  smned  for  a  length  at 
lime.  «Nbt  a  small  numberof  sins  are  committed  in  thought,  word, 
MAactkMi,,in  the  bridUer  and  better  seasons  i  aajf^  in  the  liiia)lii> 


> 


8ER.  XC]  EVIDENCES  OF  REGENEIUTIOlf  •  49 

est  and  best.  "  I  sin,"  says  Bishop  Beveridge ;  "  I  repent  of  my 
sins,  and  sin  in  my  repentance.  1  pray  for  forgiveness,  and  sin  in 
my  prayers.  I  resolve  against  my  future  sin,  and  sin  in  forming 
my  resolutions.  So  that  1  may  say,  My  ^hole  life  is  almost  a' 
continued  course  of  sin."  This  is  the  language  of  one  of  the 
best  men  that  ever  lived.  A  still  better  man  has  said,  The  gopdj 
that  I  Tvouldj  that  I  do  not ;  hui  the  evil^  thai  I  would  not^  that  I  do. 
I  find^.thtn^  a  law^  ^haty  when  I  wovld  do  good,  evil  is  present  with 
me.  J[fier  the  inward  manj  I  delight  in  the  law  of  God.  But  I  set 
anothtr  lam  in  my  members^  warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind, 
and  bringing  me  tnto  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin,  which  is  in  my  mem^ 
hers.  O  wretched  man,  that  I  am  /  ]Vho  shall  deliver  me  from  the 
boAi  of  tkis  deaths 

flow,  the  whole  life,  not  of  such  men  as.these,  but  of  men,  who 
though  generally  of  a  similar  character,  are  greatly  inferior  to 
these  in  religious  excellence,  is  almost  always  the  real  object  of  a 
Christianas  examination.  This,  also,  is  to  be  cpntinually  examin- 
ed :  the  worst,  and  the  b^st,  parts  alike.  But  it  is  plain,  that  the 
comfortable  evidence  of  our  piety,  furnished  by  the  prevalence  of 
holiness  in  the  best  seasons,  will  be  always  impairea  by  contrary 
evidence,  in  periods  of  declension ;  will  sometimes  be  rendered 
obscure,  and  at  others  overbalanced.  It  is  further  evident,  that, 
as  our  whole  judgment  will,,  and  ought  to  be,  usually  made  up, 
partly  of  the  evidence  furnished  by  our  present  state,  and  partly 
of  our  past  judgments,  and  the  evidence  on  which  they  were 
founded  ^  evidence,  contradicting,  impairing^  and  obscuring  each 
other :  a  degree  of  confusion,  and  uncertainty,  in  the  views  of  the 
mind  concerning  its  religious  character,  \n\l  almost  necessarily  re- 
sult, in  many  instances,  from  this  complicated  and  perplexed  state 
of  things. 

6thly.  J^o  small  difficulties  are  often  thrown  in  our  way  by  the 
Backslidings  of  Others. 

Many  persons,  who  are  really  Christians,  decline,  at  times,  from 
holinf  >s  of  Hfe  so  gready,  and  so  long,  as  to  excite  not  only  the 
sneer-  and  contempt,  but  the  just  censures  also,  of  those  who  are 
not  Christians ;  and  the  extreme  regret,,  and  the  Christian  disci- 
pline. ')f  those  who  are.  Other  men,  in  cases  of  this  nature^  frc- 
ouenilv  question,  or  deny,  the  very  existenoe  of  Religion.  Chris- 
tians ill  not,  indeed,  go  this  unwarrantable  length;  but  they  can- 
not avoid  recollecting,  that,  frequendy,  the  persons,  who  have 
thus  declined,  were,  in  their  view,  better  thai)  themselves ;  and 
feeling   the  hopes,   which  they  have   entertained  of  their  own 

Eiety,  c^rcatly  lessened.     They  are  compelled  to  doubt  of  the  re- 
gion of  these  men ;  and  almost  irresistioly  question  the  reality  of 
their  own. 

There  are  other  persons,  who  strongly  believe  themselves  lo  be  ' 
religious ;  and  who,  at  the  same  time,  live  in  such  a  manner,  as  to 
wrsuade  others,  that  they  are  eminent  Christians ;  who  afterwards 

rVoL.  III.  7 


i' 


i 


go  EVIDEWCES  OF  REGENERATtOrt.  [SER.  XC. 

pro\-e  by  their  conduct,  that  ihey  are  not  Christians.  Juda»,  Hy- 
menizus,  Philtlua,  and  others,  were  of  lliis  character ;  and  multi- 
tudes more,  in  every  succeeding  age.  When  these  persons  fall ; 
all  [he  evidence,  which  convinced  either  thcmsftves,  or  others,  of 
their  piety,  is  plainly  proved  to  be  unsolid;  and  wc  are  naturally 
led  lo  ask  whether  uie  evidence,  on  which  wt  have  relied,  as  the 
foundation  of  our  own  hope,  be  not  the  very  same  ;  or,  if  it  is 
known  to  be  diflcrent,  whether  we  have  reason  to  think  it  at  all 
better.  In  this  way,  we  naturally  come  to  auspecl  the  grounds,  on 
'  which  the  belief  of  our  piety  has  rested ;  and  lo  doubt  whether 

•  we  are  not  equally  deceived  with  fAon. 

7ihly.  I  am  of  opinion,  Ikat  God,  for  wist  and  good 
ministers  Aw  Spiritual  Providence  m  suck  a  manner,  as  to  leave 
''  chiidren'deslilule  of  the  Faith  of  Assurance,  for  their  oion  GoixL   ^ 

This  opinion,  I  am  well  aware,  will  most  probably  be  doubted  ; 
although  I  entertain  not  a  doubt  of  it,  myself.     It  is  proper  there- 
fore, that  I  should  mention  some  reasons,  which  induce  me  lo 
.^         atfoptit. 
»■  •      First.  /( IS  perfectly  plain,  that  Ike  evidmce,  enjoyed  by  Chrit- 

IMfc  Hans  concerning  their  piety,  is  in  no  regular  manner,  or  degree, 

proportioned  in  their  real  excellence  of  character.     The  proof  ol 
this  position  is  complete,  both  from  our  own  observation,  and 
I  from  the  history  of  experimental  and  practical  religion,  given  us 

K  M  the  lives  of  great  multitudes  of  eminently  good  men.     Such 

'        •       men,  after  having  enjoyed,  for  a  long  time,  the  most  consoling  evi- 
dence of  their  good  estate,  have,  through  periods  also  long,  been 
distressed  with  doubts  and  darkness,  and  sometimes  with  deep  des- 
,  pondence ;  and  have  nevertheless  afterwards  obtained  the  same 

^^       ^  consolations  throughout  their  remaining  lives.     To  such  seasons 

I«^  |he  Psalmist  plainly  alludes  in  many  declarations,  descriptions, 
f       '    and  prayers.     These  are  the  seasons,  in  which  Ae  speaks  of  God 
i  (M  hiding  his  face  from  him  ;  and  of  himself,  as  disquietetf,  trou- 

bled, sorrowful,  mourning;  as  almost  gone  j  as  having  his  feet  in 
the  miry  pit ;  and  as  overwhelmed  by  the  billows  of  affliction. — 
Such  seasons  are,  also,  familiarly  spoken  of  by  Christians,  as  times 
of  darkness  and  sorrow,  in  which  the  light  of  God's  countenance 
is  hidden  from  ihem. 

*  Secondly.  There  b  not,  Ibelieve,  a  single  promise  in  the  Gospel, 
to  Christians,  as  such,  of  the  Faith  of  Assurance  ;  nor  any  direct 
intimation,  that  Ihey  sltall  possess  evideiuie  of  their  piety,  propor- 
tioned to  the  degree,  in  which  it  exists.  All  the  promises  of  this 
nature  seem  to  be  indefinite ;  and  to  indicate,  that  Christens  shall 
enjoy  some  evidence  of  this  nature,  rather  than  to  point  (ftt  the  de- 
gree, in  which  U  shall  be  enjoyed.  The  Spirit  testifies  with  their  spi- 
rits, in  a  degree  and  manner  accordant  with  his  pleasure,  that  Ih^ 
are  children  of  God,  It  is  indeed  said,  that  if  any  man  will  do  hit 
will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God.  But  the 
word  knon,  in  this  case,  plainly  means  no  other,  than  that  he  shall 


I 


EVIDENCES  OF  BEGENEBATJON. 


have  a  strong  and  saliafi/ing  pimataion :  for  it  cannot  be  said,  that 
knowledge,  in  the  proper  sense,  is  ever  attainable  with  regard  to 
this  subject.  And  tiiis  strong  persuasion,  that  tJie  Bible  is  the 
.  word  of  God,  may  exist  without  any  satisfactory  evidence  that  we 
are  his  children. 

Thirdly.  Tkcri:  srtms  lo  be  a  plain  and  important  reason,  wJiif 
.  most  Christians  akimid  he  Ifft  in  some  degree  of  imcertainti/,  con- 
\  amiing  this  siibject.  In  aJI  ihe  earlier  ages  of  their  piciy.  and  in 
:ill  other  cases  in  which  it  i^not  eminently  vigorous,  they  would  be 
prone,  if  they  possessed  Iiigh  consolatory  evidence,  especially  if 
tliey  possessed  full  sssunitice,  of  their  rendration,  imperfect  as 
tfae^Uien  always  are,  to  beat  ease;  to  settle  quietly  down  in  that 
imperfect  slate ;  and  in  this  manner  to  come  far  short  of  those  re- 
ligious attain  Clients,  which,  now,  they  actually  make ;  and  perhaps 
bnaUy  to  fall  awnv.  As  ihc  case  now  is,  their  fears  serve  to  quiclc-' 
ea  theai  no  less  than  their  hopes :  and  by  the  influence  of  both 
ihrv  contirmc  to  advance  in  holiness  to  the  end  of  life. 

Fourthly.  The  fact  ta,  unqueetiojiahly,  as  I  have  stated  it ;  and  it 
carmot  bt  rationuUy  denied  to  be  a  part  of  the  Spiritual  Providence 

REMARKS. 

Ul.  /Vooi/Aeje  ohstraations  ue  learn  tiie  necessili/  of  performing 
iaUu,  and  carefuili/,  the  dull/  of  Self-examination, 

If  such  difficulties  attend  this  duty;  we  are  bound  to  exercise 
proportionally  grealcr  care,  and  exactness,  in  performing  it. 

^cllv.  If'e  are  taught  to  rest  our  hopes  on  the  general  tenour  of  our 
Htporilions  and  conduct,  and  not  on  particular  views,  affections,  or 
utioTU.  These  may  be  counterfeited  ;  but  to  counterfeit  the  whole 
tenour  of  a  life,  seems  impassible. 

3dly.  IVe  perceive  the  necessity  of  inquiring, particular li/,  rahethtr 
me  mcrtast  in  holiness.  Evangelical  holiness  increases  by  its  own 
nature,  though  irregularly.  False  religious  affections  by  their  na- 
ture decline  at  no  very  late  periods. 

4thiy.  We  learn  the  necessilt/  of  searching  the  Scriptures,  contin- 
valhf.jor  that  evidence,  mhich  alone  is  genuine,  and  on  mhich  alone 
9t  can  safelif  rest.  In  the  Scriptures  only,  is  this  Evidence  to  be 
found. 

Slhly.  HoTB  conspicuous  are  the  ffisdom  and  Goodness  of  God  in 
cauiing  the  bachliaingSf  and  other  drfects  of  good  men,  to  be  n- 
eordtd,for  the  instruction  and  consolation  of  Christians  in  all  suc- 
aeding  ages.  These  evils,  and  the  distresses  and  doubts  which 
Aey  ocCksion,  aitendcd  Ihem.  Still  'hey  were  truly  pious.  They 
may  attend  ns  therefore ;  while  we  may,  nevertheless,  be  also  sub- 
jects of  piety. 

6lhly.  The  same  wisdom  and  goodness  are  still  more  conspicuous 
m  tKe  manner,  in  aliich  the  Psalms  are  viritttn.  The  Psalms  are, 
duefly,  an  account  of  the  experimental  religion  of  inspired  men. 


1 


52 


.  I 


EVIDENCES  OF  REGENERATION. 


[SER.1K:. 


In  this  account,  we  find  that  many  of  them,  particidarly  David,'iht 
principal  mriter,  experienced  all  the  doubts,  difficulties,  and  sor- 
rows, which  arc  now  suflfcred  by  good  inen.  It  is  highly  probahki 
that  vast  numbers  of  Christians  have  by  these  two  means  been 
preserved  from  final  despondence. 

7thly«  The  nAfectj  in  its  nature^  Jiirmshea  strange  though  incK- 
rect  Consolation  to  Christians-.  When  they  find  doubts,  and  con- 
sequent distress,  concerning  their  religious  character,  multiplied; 
they  here  see,  that  they  mat/  he  thus  iBll)tiplied,  in  perfect  consist 
tency  with  the  fact,  that  they  themselves  are  Christians ;  and  are 
thus  prevented  fi*om  sinking  into  despair. 

8thly«  We  here  learn  the  absolute  necessity  of  betaking  ourselves 
to  God,  in  daily  prayer,  for  his  unerring  guidance  in  this  difficuU 
path  of  duty.  If  so  many  embarrassments  attend  this  important 
employment ;  the  assistance  of  the  divine  Spirit  is  plainly  indis- 
pensable to  our  safety,  and  success.  If  this  assistance  be  faithfully 
sought ;  we  know,  that  it  will  be  certainly  granted. 

9thly.  We  here  discern  the  goodness,  manifested  in  that  indis^ 
pensamt  and  glorious  promise ';  /  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake 
.  thee.  For  creatures,  struggling  with  so  many  di£Sculties  to  be  IM 
at  a//,  would  be  inconceivably  dangerous :  to  be  forsaken  would  be 
fatal.  But  the  divine  presence,  in  the  midst  of  all  these,  and  even 
much  greater  dangers,  fundshes  coptiplete  and  final  safety  to  every 
ChUd  of  God. 


/i' 

I 


SERMON  XCI. 

THE   LAW  or   OOD. THE    LAW   PCEnCT. 


Pf ALII  xix.  7«f!»  Ae  Law  of  the  Lord  it  porfeet,  • 

IN  the  whole  preceding  series  of  discourses,  I  have  examined  J 
with  attention  the  principal  Doctrines,  contained  in  the  Scrip* 
tures.  Particularly,  i  have  exhibited  the  Existence  and  Perfections 
of  God,  and  his  works  of  Creation  and  Providence  ;  the  Character 
and  Circumstances  of  Man,  both  before  and  after  his  apostacy ; 
and  the  Impossibility  of  his  justification  by  his  personal  obedience. 
I  have  considered,  at  length,  the  Character  and  Mediation  of 
Christ,  and  the  Nature  of  Evangelical  Justification  through  his 
righteousness ;  the  Character  and  Agency  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  the 
necessity  and  Nature  of  Regeneration  5  it3  Antecedents,  Attend- 
ants, Consequents,  and  Evidences*  All  these,  united,  constitute ' 
the  bodjr  of  those  peculiarly  important  Truths^  to  which  the  Scrip- 
tures have  reauired  us  to  rencbr  our  religious  Faith. 

The  secona  great  division  of  subjects,  in  such  a  system,  is  form- 
ed of  the  Scriptural  Precepts,  reouiring  of  us  those  internal,  and 
external,  acts,  conunonly  termed  the  Dviy^  or  Duties^  of  mankind. 
Wt  are  notj  however^  to  suppose,  that  Faith  in  the  doctrines  of  the 
Scriptures  is  not  itself  a  prime  duty  of  man.  The  contrary  has,  I 
trust,  been  amply  proved.  J^or  are  we  to  suppose  that  any  one  of 
these  doctrines  has  not,  naturally,  an  important,  practical  influence 
m  mankind*  The  contrary  to  this,  also,  has,  it  is  presumed,  been 
extensively  shown.  Finally ;  toe  are  not  to  suppose,  that  Faith  in 
Christ,  and  Repentance  towards  God,  are  duties  of  fallen  beings^ 
less  real,  less  necessary,  less  essential,  or  less  acceptable,  than  any 
other  duties  whatever.  The  conformity  of  the  understanding  and 
the  heart  to  every  doctrine  of  the  Scriptures  is,  by  the  authority  of 
God,  made  equally  a  duty  with  obedience  to  every  precept.  All 
that  can  with  propriety  be  said  of  this  nature  is,  that  those,  which 
are  customarily  called  the  doctrines  of  the  Scriptures,  are  usually 
presented  to  us  rather  in  the  form  of  Truths  wnich  we  are  to  be- 
lieve, than  of  Commands  which  we  are  to  obey ;  and  that  the  pre* 
cepts  are  commmdy  given  to  us  in  their  own  proper  form,  requiring 
our  obedience  directly. 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  a  conformity  of  our 
hearts,  and  lives,  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  is  often  expressly 
enjoined  by  the  Scriptures.  To  repent  of  our  sins,  and  to  believe  in 
Christ,  are  the  inmiediate  objects  of  the  great  precepts  of  the 
Crospel.     It  is  further  to  be  observed,  that  every  Precq)t  becomesy 


54 


THE  LAW  OF  GOD  PERFECT. 


SER.  XGL 


hy  a  alight  alteration  in  the  phraseology j  a  Doctrine.     For  cxam- 


pie, 


-  pie,  Thoti  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  vnth  all  thy  hearty  is  easily 
/  altered  into  a  mere  Truth,  only  by  changing  the  phraseology  into 
"  It  is  right,  or  it  is  thy  duty,  to  love  the  Lord,  thy  God,  with  all 
thy  heart."  •  A  cordial  faith  in  this  declaration  is  here,  aswlh  re- 
spect to  every  other  precept,  the  spirit,  whence  is  derived  all  genu- 
ine obedience. 

.  Truth  is  commonly  divided  into  that  which  is  practical,  and  that 
wliich  is  speculativci  But  moral  truth  cannot,  in  the  strict  sense, 
be  justly  divided  in  this  manner.  Every  moral  truth  is  of  a  pi-acti- 
cal  nature.  Its  influence,  I  acknowledge^  is  in  some  cases  indirect ; 
while  in  others  it  is  direct.  But  it  can  never  be  truly  denied,  in 
any  case,  that  its  influence  is  really  of  this  nature. 

The,obWrvations,  whick  I  intend  to  make  on  the  several  sub- 
jects, included  in  the  second  great  division  of  the  system  of  theol- 
ogy, I  propose  to  preface  with  a  general  account  of  the  Divine 
Law.  The  doctrine,  which  I  mean  to  discuss  in  this  account,  is 
that,  which  the  text  expresses  in  the  very  best  terms,  which  can 
be  chosen;  viz. 

The  Law  or  Jehovah  is  perfect. 

In  proof  of  this  truth  I  allege  the  following  considerations. 

1st.  The  Law  of  God  is  the  result  of  his  Infinite  Wisdom  and 
Goodness. 

It  cannot  be  supposed,  that  Infinite  Wisdom  and  Goodness, 
would  form  a  rule  for  the  government  of  moral  beings,  which  did 
jiot  possess  such  attributes,  as  must  render  it  a  perfect  directory  of 
their  moral  conduct.  It  may  easily  be  believed,  tnat  God  may  make 
moral  beings,  of  many  different  classes :  some  of  superior,  and 
some  of  inferior,  capacities :  but  it  cannot  be  imagined,  that  he 
would  not  require  of  all  such  beings  a  character,  ana  condncf,  the 
best,  of  which  they  were  naturally  capable.  Inferior  wisdom  and 
goodness  might  be  unable  to  devise,  or  uninclined  to  require,  the 
best  conduct  and  character  in  moral  creatures;  or  to  point  out 
the  meansy  by  which  this  character  could  be  most  easily  and 
perfectly  formed,  oi*  the  conduct,  in  which  it  would  most  advan- 
tageously operate.  But  none  of  these  things  are  attributable  to 
infinite  Wisdom  and  Goodness,  thus  employed.  They,  of  course, 
must  require  the  best  character  and  conduct ;  must  point  out  the 
best  means  of  forming  it,  and  the  best  modes  in  which  it  can  ope- 
rate. To  suppose  a  law,  which  is  the  result  of  these  attributes, 
not  to  be  perfect,  is  to  suppose,  either  that  God  did  not  know  what 
would  be  the  best  character  in  his  moral  creatures,  or  did  not 
choose  to  require  it  of  them.  Both  parts  of  this  alternative  are  too 
obviously  absurd  to  need  a  refutation. 

Further ;  A  law  is  always  the  expression  of  the  will  of  the 
lawgiver;  and  is,  of  course,  an  expression  of  his  own  character. 
This  V  pre-eminently  applicable  to  the  Law  of  God.  In  forming 
It,  he  was  under  no  necessity,  and  could  have  no  motive,  beside 


w  . 


)  8£K.  XCI]  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  PEKFECT.  55 

what  is  involved  in  his  own  pleasure,  to  induce  him  to  form  it  in 
any  given  manner.     The  things,  which  it  requires,  are  the  things 
which  he  approves,  and  is  seen  to  approve ;  the  things,  in  which 
he  delights,  and  is  seento  delight ;  the  things,  therefore,  which  en- 
tirely show  his  real  character.     But  the  things,  actually  required, 
include  all,  which  are  due  from  his  mpral  creatures  to  Him^  to  each 
other,  and  to  themselves  ;  or,  in  other  words,  all  their  internal  and 
external  moral  conduct.     But  it  cannot  be  supposed,  that  God 
would  exhibit  his  own  perfect  character  imperfectly^  in  a  case  of 
this  mgignitudc.     That,  in  a  law,  expressing  thus  his  own  charac- 
ter, and  seen  to  express  it;  a  law,  from  which  they  must  of  neces- 
sity learn  his  character  more  certainly,  than  from  any  thing  else  5 
a  law,  which  regulated,  and  required,  all  the  moral  conduct  ever 
required  of  them;  he  should  not  prescribe  a  perfect  collection  of 
rules;  a  collection  absolutely  perfect ;  is  a  supposition,. amounting 
to  nothing  less  than  this  :  tnat  in  exhibiting  his  character  to  the 
Intelligent  Universe  he  would  present  it  in  a  false  Ught ;  and  lead 
them  by  a  solemn  act  of  his  own,  necessarily,  to  consider  him  cither 
as  a  weak,  or  as  an  immoral,  being. 

2dly.  The  Lazo  of  God  is  perfectly  fitted  to  the  State^  and  CapO" 
city,  of  Intelligent  Creatures. 

The  divine  Law  is  wholly  included  in  two  precepts :  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  ail  thy  heart ;  ana  thy  neighbour  as  thv" 
telf  These  are  so  short,  as  to  be  necessarily  included  in  a  single 
very  short  sentence  ;  so  intelligible^  as  to  be  understood  by  every 
moral  being,  who  is  capable  of  comprehending  the  meaning  of  the 
words,  God  and  Neighbour  :  so  easily  remembered,  as  to  render  it 
impossible  for  them  to  escape  from  our  memory,  unless  by  wan- 
ton, criminal  negligence  of  ours:  and  so  easily  applicable  to  every 
case  of  moral  action,  as  not  to  be  mistaken,  unless  through  indispo- 
sition to  obey.  At  the  same  time,  obedience  to  them  is  rendered, 
perfectly  obvious,  and  perfectly  easy,  to  every  mind,  which  is  not 
indisposed  to  obey  them.  The  very  disposition  itself,  if  sincere 
and  entire,  is  either  entire  obedience,  or  the  unfailing  means  of 
that  external  conduct,  by  which  the  obedience  is,  in  some  cases, 
completed.  The  disposition  to  obey,  is. also  confined  to  a  single  af 
fiction  of  the  hearty  easily  distinguishable  from  all  other  affections  : 
viz.  Love.  Love,  saith  St»  Paul,  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law,  The 
humblest  and  most  ignorant  moral  creatures,  therefore,  are  in  this 
manner  cflBcaciously  preserved  from  mistaking  their  duty. 

In  the  mean  lime,  these  two  precepts,  notwithstanding  their 
brevity,  are  so  comprehensive,  as  to  include  every  possible  moral 
action.  The  Archangel  is  not  raised  above  their  control ;  nor  can 
any  action  of  his  exceed  that  bound  which  they  prescribe.  The 
Child,  who  has  passed  the  verge  of  moral  agency,  is  not  placed 
beneath  their  regulation ;  and  whatever  virtue  he  may  exercise  is 
no  other  than  a  fulfihnent  of  their  requisitions.  All  the  duties, 
which  we  immediately  owe  to  God,  to  our  fellow-creatutes,  and  to 


5^  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  PERFECT  [SER.  »&  ^ 

ourselves,  are  uf  these  nrecepts  alike  comprehended,  and  rcqiup- 
cd.  In  a  word,  endlessly  various  as  mordl  action  may  be,  it  ex- 
ists in  no  form,  or  instance,  in  which  he  who  perfectly  obeys  these 
precepts,  will  not  have  done  his  duty,  and  will  not  find  himself  jus* 
tified  and  accepted  by  God. 

3dly.  The  Law  of  God  requires  the  best  possible  Moral  Char" 
acier. 

To  reauire  and  accomplish  this  great  object,  an  object  in  its  im- 
.jjortance  literally  immense,  is  supremely  worthy  of  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  this  glorious  Being.  To  make  his  moral  creatures 
virtuous  is  unquestionably  the  only  method  of  rendering  them  real- 
ly and  extensively  useful,  and  laying  the  only  solid  foundation  for 
their  enduring  happiness.  But  all  virtue  is  summed  up  in  the  ful- 
fument  of  these  two  Commands :  Thou  shall  love  the  Lord  thy  God 
toiiA  all  thy  heart  /  and  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  In  doing  this, 
every  individual  becomes  as  amiable,  excellent,  dignified,  and  use- 
ful, as  with  his  own  capacity  he  can  be.  Should  he  advance  iAhis 
•capacity  through  endless  duration,  all  the  good,  which  he  will  ever 
do  ;  all  the  honour,  which  he  will  ever  render  to  his  Creator ;  all 
the  excellence,  amiableness,  and  dignity,  which  he  will  ever  ac- 
quire ;  will  be  nothing  but  obedience  to  these  two  commands. 
The  beauty  and  glory  of  the  Evangelical  character;  the  rapturous 
flame  which  glows  in  the  breast  of  a  Seraph ;  the  transcendent  ex- 
altation of  an  Archangel ;  is  completely  included  in  loving  God 
with  all  the  heart,  and  Iiis  neighbour  as  himself  Nay,  the  infinite 
loveliness,  the  supreme  glory,  of  the  Godhead,  is  no  other  than  this 
disposition,  boundlessly  exerted  in  the  Uncreated  Mind,  and  pro- 
ducing, in  an  unlimited  extent,  and  an  eternal  succession,  its  prop- 
er and  divine  eflects  on  the  Intelligent  Universe.  God,  saith  St. 
John,  is  Love. 

4thly.  The  Law  of  God  proposes,  and  accomplishes,  the  beslpoS" 
Bible  End. 

The  only  ultimate  good  is  Happiness:  by  which  I  intend  Enjoy" 
ment^  whether  springing  from  the  mind  itself,  or  flowing  into  it 
from  external  sources.  Perfect  happiness  is  perfect  gooa;  or,  in 
other  words,  includes  whatever  is  desirable:  and  this  is  the  g(K)d, 
which  the  divine  law  proposes,  as  its  own  proper  and  supreme 
End. 

This  end  is  with  exact  propriety  divisible,  and  is  customarily  di- 
*vided,  into  two  ereat  parts:  the  first  usually  termed  the  Glory  of 
God:  the  second,  the  Happiness  of  the  Intelligent  Creation. 

The  original,  cmd  essential.  Glory  of  God  is  his  Ability,  and  Dw- 
position,  to  accomplish  perfect  happiness.  This  is  his  inherent,  un- 
changeable, and  eternal  perfection.  But  the  glory  of  God,  to 
which  I  refer,  is' what  is  often  called  his  declarative  glory;  and  i3 
no  other  than  this  very  perfectiok,  manifested  in  his  conduct,  imme- 
Aak^y  by  himself,  and,  midkMv  in  their  conduct,  by  the  Intelligeni 
Cre&tiofi*    In  this  sense,  the  glory  of  God  is  proposed,  and  ao- 


•  ■    * 


8Eft.  XCI.]  THE  LA#  OF  GOD  PERFECT. "  '.  •  53 

complished,  by  his  Law,  when  he  prescribet  ttt  ||it8  Intelligent 
Creatures,  and  produces  in  them,  a  dispcMition  to  Uyoe  Him  with  all 
the  hearty  and  each  other  as  themselves.  This  disposition  is,  be- 
yond all  estimation,  the  most  lovely,  the  most  excellent,  the  most 
glorious,  work  of  the  Creator's  hands ;  incomparably  the  greatest 
proof  of  his  sufficiency,  and  incHnation,  toeflfectuate  perfect  good; 
and,  therefore,  infinitely  honourable  to  his  character.  lii  the 
exercise  of  this  disposition,  on  their  part,  and  in  its  genuine 
effects,  they  render  to  him  also,  voluntarily,  and  directly,  all  the 
honour,  which  can  be  rendered  to  the  Infinite  Mind  by  Intelligent 
Creatures. 

At  the  same  time,  the  ditine  Law  is  the  source  of  perfect  Happi* 
ness  to  them.  Voluntary  beings  are  the  only  original  soui*ces  of 
happiness:  and  Virtue^  which  is  nothing  but  this  disposition,  isyin 
them,  the  only  productive  cause  of  happiness.  Under  the  influx 
ence  of  it,  all  beings,  in  whom  it  prevails,  unite  to  do  the  utmost 

food  in  their  power.  The  good,  therefore,  which  is  actually  done 
•y  them,  is  the  greatest  good  which  can  be  derived  from  the  efforts 
of  Intelligent  Creatures.  As  in  this  manner  they  become  perfect- 
ly lovely,  praiseworthy,  and  rewardable,  in  the  sight  of  God ;  he 
can^  with  tne  utmost  propriety,  and  therefore  certainly  rot//,  reward 
them,  by  actually  communicating  to  them  the  most  exalted  happi- 
i;iess,  01  which  they  are  capable.  Thfe  kingdom  of  glory  in  tne 
heavens,  with  its  endless  and  perfect  Providential  dispensations, 
will,  to  Saints  and  Angels,  constitute  this  reward. 

I  have  mentioned  the  Glory  of  God  as  the  first  great  division  of 
the  perfect  End^  proposed  hy  the  divine  law.  The  glory  of  God  is  thai 
in  which  his  happiness  consists  ;  the  object^  infinitely  enjoyed  by  thM 
Infinite  Mind^  the  Sufficiency  for  all  good, not  onlv  existing,  and* 
enjoyed  by  contemplation,  but  operatmg,  also,  and  enjoyed  in  its 
genuine  and  proper  effects.  . « 

It  ought  to  be  observed,  that  there  are  no  other  possible  means 
of  accomplishing  this  illustrious  end,  beside  this  disposition. .  In** 
telligent  beings  are  the  only  beings,  by  whom  God  qan  be  thus 
glonfied.  They  are  the  only  beings  who  can  understand,  either 
his  character  or  his  works  ;  or  perceive  the  glory,  which  he  direct- 
ly manifests  in  them.  They  are,  also,  the  onljrbeings  who  can  ren^lep 
to  him  love,  reverence,  or  obedieiice ;  and  thus  honour  his  character 
in  such  a  manner,  as  this  can  be  done  by  creatures.  Without  them 
the  Universe,  with  all  its  furniture  and  splendour,  would  still  be  a 
solitude. . 

At  the  same  time.  Intelligent  beings  alone  either  produce,  or  en- 
joy, happiness  in  any  great  degree. 

But  there  is  no  other  disposition  in  such  .beings,  besides  this, 
which  can  voluntarily  glorify  God,  or  produce  important  and  en- 
during happiness.  It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  observe,  that 
no  obedience,  and  no  regard  whatever,  rendered  by  rational. crea- 
tures to  God,  can  be  of  any  value,  or  in  any  degree  amiaUe,  or 

Vol.  hi.  .         8 


58  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  PERFECT.  [SER.  XCL 

acceptable,  exctpt  that  which  is  voluntary ;  or  that  towards  beings 
who  did  not  love  him,  he  could  not  exercise  any  Complacency. 
Itis  scarcely  more  necessary  to  observe,  that  beings,  who  did  not 
voluntarily  produce  happiness,  could  neither  enjoy  it  themselves, 
nor  yield  it  to  others.  The  seat  of  happiness  is  the  mind  ;  and 
the  orst,  or  original  happiness,  which  it  nnds,  is  ever  found  in  its 
own  approbation  of  its  conduct,  and  the  delightful  nature  of  its 
affections.  But  no  mind  can  be  self-approved,  which  does  not 
first  love  God  and  its  fellow-creatures ;  and  no  affections  can  be 
delightful,  except  those  which  spring  from  the  same  disposition. 
Its  views  of  God,  and  its  affections  towards  Him,  its  apprehensiom 
of  His  complacency  towards  itself  and  its  enjoyment  of  his  bles- 
sings ;  constitute  the  second  great  division  of  its  happiness.  But  no 
mind  can  have  delightful  views  of  God,  or  delightful  affections  to- 
wards him ;  or  be  me  object  of  his  complacency ;  except  that 
which  loves  him  supremely.  Tfte  third  great  division  of  this  subject 
consists  in  the  esteem,  the  love,  and  the  kind  offices,  mutually  inter- 
changed  by  Rational  beings.  It  is  perfectly  obvious,  that  these  can 
never  exist  in  any  material  degree,  where  the  second  command  of 
this  law  is  not  cordially  obeyed.  But  the  mind,  influenced  by  the 
love  which  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  is  self-approved,  approved 
bv  God,  and  approved  by  its  fellow-creatures.  All  its  affections, 
also,  towards  itself,  its  Creator,  and  the  Intelligent  Universe,  are 
delightful.  At  the  same  time,  all  its  actions  are  productive  of  glo- 
ry  to  the  Creator,  and  of  good  to  his  creation. 

Thus  the  law  of  God,  by  laying  hold  on  this  single  great  principle, 
has  directed  the  whole  energy  of  the  mind  to  the  production  of  the 
best  of  all  ends,  in  the  best  possible  manner. 

REMARKS. 

From  these  observations  it  appears, 

1  St.  That  the  Law  of  God  is,  and  must  of  necessity  be,  Unchangeable 
tmd  Eternal. 

Our  Savioiff  informs  us,  that  heaven  and  earth  shall  sooner  pass 
away,  than  one  jot,  or  one  tittle,  of  the  Law  shall  fail.    This  declar- 
ation has,  I  presume,  seemed  extraordinary  to  every  reader  of  the 
fK^ew  Testament.     To  many  it  has,  in  all  probability,  appeared  in- 
credible.    But,  if  I  mistake  not,  these  observations  furmsh  us  not 
only  with  ample  evidence  of  its  truth,  but  with  ample  reasons,  why 
'k  should  be  true.    A  law,  which  is  the  result  of  mfinite  Wisdom 
^and  Goodness ;  which  is  perfectly  fitted  to  the  state,  and  capacity. 
'of  Intelligent  Creatures ;  which  requires  the  best  possible  Moral 
^Character;  which  proposes  and  accomplishes  the  best  possible 
'  Ead ;  and  without  which  neither  the  Glory  of  God,  nor  the  Happi- 
ness of  the  Intelligent  Creation,  could  be  established,  or  perpetu- 
ated ^plainly  cannot,  and  ought  not  to  be  changed.    Were  God  to 
.(hange  it,  be  must  change  it  for  the  worse ;  from  a  perfect  law  to 
an  imperfect  eae*  Whatever  rule  he  should  prescribe,  in  its  places  ' 


SER.  XCL]  THE  LAW  W  GOD  PBRFBOT.  M 

for  the  conduct  of  his  moral  creatures,  must  recniire  something, 
which  is  wrong,  or  fail  to  require  something,  whicn  is  riefat.  Nei- 
ther of  these  could  be  ju&t,  or  wise,  or  good.  Mor  could  his  Wia- 
dom,  Justice,  or  Goodness,  be  manifested,  or  even  preserved,  in 
the  establishment  of  such  a  law ;  much  less  in  annulling  a  perfect 
law,  and  substituting  an  imperfect  one  in  its  place.  To  give  up 
this  law  would  be  to  sacrifice  his  own  flory,  and  the  happmess  of 
his  Intelligent  creation.  These,  united,  constitute  the  very  End, 
for  which  the  heavens  and  the  earth  were  made.  In  the  case  sup- 
posed, therefore,  the  heavens  and  the  earth  would  exist  to  no  pur- 
pose; that  is,  to  no  purpose  worthy  of  Jehovah. 

2dly«  T%ts  stdiject  furnishes  us  with  one  affecimg  view  of  the  EvU 

iffSiUm 

Sin  is  a  transgression  of  the  Law :  that  is.  Sin  is  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  heart,  and  the  conduct  of  the  life,  directly  opposed  to 
what  the  Law  requires.  It  is  directly  opposed  to  the  decisions  of 
infinite  wisdom  and  goodness ;  to  the  best  possible  character ;  and 
to  the  best  possible  end :  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  supreme  good 
of  the  Intelligent  Creation.  Of  all  these  the  Law  is  either  the 
transcript,  or  the  Indispensable  means.  So  far  as  sin  has  power  to 
operate,  it  operates  to  their  destruction  ;  and  its  native  tendency 
would  prevent  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  the  universe. 

The  evil  of  sin  does  not  lie  in  the  power  of  the  sinner  to  accom- 
plish his  evil  designs;  but  in  the  nature  of  the  designs  themselves, 
and  the  disposition  which  gave  them  birth ;  and  must  ever  bear 
some  general  proportion  to  the  extent  of  the  mischief,  which  it 
would  accomplish,  if  it  were  permitted  to  operate  without  re- 
straint. From  what  has  been  said  it  is  plain,  that  this  mischief 
transcends  all  finite  comprehension.  The  evil,  therefore,  which  is 
inherent  in  it,  must  be  incalculably  great 

V/e  see  this  truth  verified  in  the  present  world.  All  the  misery, 
fufiercd  here,  is  the  effect  of  sin.  Sin  blotted  out  the  bliss  of  Para- 
disc  ;  and  established  in  its  place  private  wretchedness  and  pub- 
lic sufiering.  The  smile  of  complacencv  it  changed  into  the 
rioomy  irown  of  wrath  and  malice.  For  the  embrace  of  fiiend- 
uip  it  substituted  the  attack  of  the  assassin.  The  song  of  joy  it 
converted  into  a  groan  of  anguish:  the  ascription  of  praise  it  corn*  ^ 
muted  for  the  bmsphemies  of  im{»ety.  What  then  must  be  the  • 
erflsi  whidi  it  would  accomplish,  were  it  let  loose  upon  the  uni- 
vene ;  were  it  to  invade  the  kingdom  of  glory,  as  it  once  intruded 
into  Eden ;  and  ravage  eternity,  as  it  has  ravaged  the  little  periods 
$(  time. 

3dly.   We  learn  from  this  subject  the  absurdity  of  AnHnomianism. 

Two  of  the  prominent  Antinomian  doctrines  are,  thai  the  Lam 
sfGod  isnot  anule  of  duty  to  Christians:  and  that  the  Transgress 
simu  ofii  by  Ouristians  are  not  sists. 

Sin^  saith  St.  John^  is  the  transgression  of  the  law.     It  is  a  bold  < 
iHertioii,  then ;  an  assertion,  deii^ding  a  warrant,  which  can  bt 


~»  4. 


60  ^1*H£  LAW  OF  GOD  PERFECT.  [SER.  XCL 

pleaded  by  no  man ;  that  them  is  such  a  thing,  or  that  tlurt  can  he 
such  a  thing,  as' a  transgression  of  the  law,  which  is  not  sinful.  Why 
are  not  thfe  transgressions  of  Christians  sinful  ?  Is  it  .because  they 
are  holy  beings  ?  Adam  was'  perfectly  holy  :  yet  one  trans^s- 
sion  of  his  ruined  the  world.     Angels  were  perfectly  holy,  in  a 

'  .state,  iar  superior  to  that  of  Adam:  yet  one  trans^ession  of  theirs 
turned  them  put  of  heaven!  Is  it  because  Christians  are  redeem- 
ed ?  The  mercy  of  God,  displayed  in  their  redemption,  only  in- 
creases their  obligation  to  obey,  and  therefore  ennances  every 
^  transgression.  Is  it  because  God  has  promised,  that  they  shall 
perse  V  ere,  and  that  they  shall  be  saved  ?  This  promise  is  an  ex- 
ercise of  divine  Mttcy ;  has  exactly  the  same  influence ;  and,  in 
the  case  supposed,  can  produce  no  other  eflfect.  Why  then,  are 
the  transgressions  of  Christians  not- sinful  ?  To  this  question  they 
will  ill  vain  search  for  an  answer. 

Why  is  the  law  no  longer  a  rule  of  righteousness  to  Qhristians  ? 
Is  it  because  they  are  no  longer  under  its  condemning  sentence  ? 
For  this  very  reason  they  are  under  increased  obligations  to  obey 
its  precepts.  Is  it  because  they  are  placed  under  a  better  rule,  or 
a  worse  one  ?    A  better  rule  cannot  exist :  a  worse,  God  would  not 

,  .  prescribe.  Are  not  Christians  required  to  glorify  God  ?  Are  they 
not  bound  to  promote  the  happiness  of  each  other,  and  their  fel- 
low-men ?  Are  they  not  required  to  conform  to  the  dictates  of  in- 
finite Wisdom  and  Goodness;  to  sustain  the  best  Moral  Character; 
and  to  fulfil  the  true  End  of  their  being  ?  To  love  God  zoith  all  the 
heart,  mid  their  neighbour  as  themselves,  is  to  do  all  these  things,  in 
the  muriner  most  pleasing,  and  in  the  only  manner  which  is  pleas- 
inff,toGod. 

To  remove  a  Christian  firom  the  obligation,  which  he  is  under  to 
obey  the  law  of  God,  is  to  remove  him  fi'om  all  obligation  to  per- 
form any  part  of  his  duty,  as  a  rational  being  to  God,  or  to  his  fel- 
low-creatures :  for  every  part  of  this  duty  is  required  by  the  divine 
law.  In  other  words,  it  is  to  discharge  him  from  all  obligation  to 
be  vi  It  nous.  What  end  must  we  then  suppose  Christians  are  in- 
tended to  answer,  while  they  continue  in  the  world?  C^tfamlyy 
none  worthy  of  God ;  none  worthy  of  thi  mediatioa  of  Christ ; 
none  worthy  of  the  Christian  character.   ^.  •' 

Anfinomians  forget,  that  he  who  is  bom  of  God,  laveih  Qod,  and 
knowoth  God;  that  he,  who  loveth  not,  knoweth  not  Qod;  and  that 
this  is  the  love  of  God,  that  we  keq^Jm  commandments.  They  for- 
get, that  Christ  died  to  purify  Unto  hiamlf  a  peculiar  people,  zealous 
of  good  works. 

4th  ly.  JVe  are  here  furnished  with  one  interesting  proof  of  the 
Divine  Revelation  of  the  Scriptures. 

It  is  perfectly  obvious  to  all  who  h^r  me,  that  a  book,  profess- 
ing to  be  a  Revelation,  must,  whetbcq^  false  or  true,  depend  in  a 
great  measure  on  its  own  internal  character  for  evidence  of  its  di- 
vine origin.     The  things,  which  it  contains,  must  be  such,  as  be-» 


■  m' 


8EB.  Xa.]  THE  LAW  OF  GOD  PERFECT.  ^61 

come  the  character  of  God.  Many  of  them  may  be  mysteriou?, 
and  inexplicable ;  because  the  nature  of  the  subjects  may  be  such, 
as  to  transcend  the  human  comprehension,  or  lie  beyond  the  reach 
of  human  investigation.  There  are  subjects,  also,  of  which  it  may. 
be  necessary  to  know  a  part ;  and  that  part,  though  sufBciently  dis- 
closed, if  considered  by  itself  only,  may  yet  be  connected  with 
others,  whose  existence  it  will  indicate,  but  yrhose  nature  it  will 
not  at  all  disclose.  When  subjects  of  this  kind  are  presented  to 
OS,  we  may,  if  we  are  disposed  to  inquire  into  them  extensively, 
be  easily  perplexed,  and  easily  lost. 

But  whatever  is  revealed  must  consist  with  the  character  of  God  ^  , 
or  it  cannot  be  admitted  as  a  Revelation.  S(Hiie  things  also,  con- 
tained in  a  real  Revelation,  must  be  plainly  worthy  of  their  Author^ 
and  not,  merely,  not  unworthy  ;  must  be  honourable  to  his  charac- 
ter ;  superior  to  the  discoveries  of  the  human  mind ;  and  such,  as 
cannot  be  reasonably  believed  to  have  been  the  inventions  of 
men. 

Perfectly  correspondent  with  aU  these  remarks  is  the  Law,  un- 
der contemplation.  This  truth  will  advantageously  appear  by  a 
comparison  of  it  with  the  most  perfect  human  laws.  I  snail  select 
for  I  his  purpose  those  of  Grca/ BnVam. 

The  statute  laws  of  that  kingdom  are  contained,  if  I  mistake  not, 
in  about  eighteen  or  twenty  folio,  or  about  fifty  octavo,  volumes.  ' 
The  common,  or  as  it  is  somctitnes  styled  the  unwritten  law,  occu- 
pies a  number  of  volumes  far  greater.  To  understand  them  is  a 
work  of  deep  science  ;  the  employment  of  the  first  human  talents ; 
and  the  labour  of  a  life.  The  great. body  of  them  can  never  be 
known  by  the  generality  of  men ;  and  must,  therefore,  be  very 
imperfect  rules  of  their  conduct. 

In  the  mean  time,  multitudes  of  cases  are  continually  occurring, 
which  they  do  not  reach  at  all.  Those,  which  they  actually  reach, 
they  affect  in  many  instances  injuriously  ;  and  in  many  more,  im- 
perfectly. The  system  of  happiness,  which  they  propose,  is  ex- 
treinelj  defective ;  a  bare  state  of  tolerable  convenience ;  and 
even  (hat,  attended  with  many  abatements.  They  also  extend 
their  inflq^ace  only  to  a  speck  of  earth,  and  a  moment  of  time* 
Yc!  these  laws  were  devised,  reviewed,  and  amended,  by  persons 
of  ihe  first  liuman  consideration  for  learning  and  wisdom. 

The  Law,  which  we  have  been  examining,  is  comprised  in  two 
coinmands  only :  is  so  short ;  so  intelligible ;  so  capable  of  being 
remembered,  and  applied,  as  to  be  perfectly  fittecl  to  the  under- 
standing, and  use,  of  every  Moral  bemg.  At  the  same  time,  it  is 
so  comprehensive,  as  to  reach,  perfectly,  every  possible  moral  ac- 
tion ;  to  preclude  every  wrong,  and  to  secure  every  right.  It  is 
efju;i)ly  fitted  to  men  and  anffeli^  to  earth  and  heaven.  Its  con- 
trot  extends  with  the  same  eBcacy,  and  felicity,  to  all  worlds,  and 
to  all  periods.  It  governs  the  Universe ;  it  reaches  through  Eter- 
nity.    The  system  of  happiness,  proi)osed,  and  accomplisned,  by 

.%% 


t 


THE  LAW  OF  GOD  PERFECT.  [SER.  XCL 

it,  is  perfect,  endless,  and  for  ever  progressive.  Must  not  candour, 
must  not  prejudice  itself,  confess,  with  the  Magicians  of  Egi/pt, 
that  here  is  the  fingtr  of  God? 

Bui  if  this  is  trom  God,  the  Scriptures  must  be  acknowledged  to 
have  the  same  origin.  In  the  Scriptures  alone  is  this  Law  contain- 
ed. Nay,  the  Scriptures  themselves  are,  chiefly,  this  Lav,  ex- 
panded into  more  minute  precepts,  and  more  multiplied  applica- 
tions ;  enforced  by  happy  comments,  and  illustrated  by  useful  ex- 
amples ;  especially  the  Ssample  presented  to  us  In  the  perfectand 
glorious  life  of  the  Son  of  God. 


■   1 


1 


SERMON  XCII. 

;    LAW   OF    OOD. THE    FIRST    ANfl    OBEAT    COMMAHDHMT. 


Miu  lii.  2S— 30.— .Ind  on;  of  Iht  SeriUi  came,  and,  hariag  Heard  them  Tt<M»- 
iag  togilhrr,  and perrcived  that  he  had  aniatrtd  them  well,  adtid  him,  IVhvA  it 
tki  Fira  Cvmmandmeat  of  all  f  And  Jriui  aancered  him,  the  FirU  0/  all  tht 
Cominan'IncnIj  ii,  Hear,  0  lirael ;  The  Lard  our  Gad  ii  one  Lord  ;  and  Ihav  thalt 
tmt  Iht  Lord  Ihy  God  icilh  alt  thy  heart,  and  tcith  all  thy  loul,  and  uith  all  tkg 
tunJ,  and  leith  all  %  itringlh :  ThU  t>  the  Firil  Commandment. 

In  tb^  last  discourse,  J  made  a  number  of  general  obs^vations 
on  she  perfection  of  the  divine  law.  I  shall  now  proceed  to  con- 
sider, somewhal  more  particularly,  (Ae  Milure  and  Import  of  the 
FirtI  and  Grtatett  Commandment  of  thai  Lam ;  the  Command, 
nkieh  rtguJatta  our  Picti/  to  God. 

Id  the  text  we  arc  irirormcd,  that  a  Scribe,  a  Man  learned  in  the 
Scnpitires,  and  accustomed  to  expound  them  to  others,  pleased 
with  Christ's  refutation  of  the  Sadducces,  and  ihe  proofe  wnich  he 
had  unanswerably  given  of  a  future  existence,  tij-kedhim,  Which 
SI  rt<  /m(  cammandmmt  of  alii'  that  h.  the  fir-l  1:1  ;-ank,  obliga- 
&ut,  and  importance.  Christ,  quoting  Deut.  vi.  4,  informs  him, 
thai  the  first  command,  in  this  sense,  is,  TJiou  shall  love  the  Lord, 
lAy  God.  milk  all  thy  hearlj  and  with  all  ihy  soul,  and  with  all  Iky 
mind,  and  with  all  thy  slrawth. 

In  this  command,  it  is  to  oe  observed,  there  is  one  thing  only  re- 
quired; andthfltia  Love,  it  is,  however, /.one  ma eompre^nme 
itnst ;  including  several  exercises  of  the  mind,  easily,  and  cus- 
tomarily, distinguished  from  each  other;  as  might,  indeed,  be  na- 
turally expected  from  tUe  phraseology  of  the  Command. 

It  is  further  to  be  observed,  that  the  Love,  here  enjoined,  is  re- 
quired 10  exist  in  such  a  degr*,  as  to  occupy  the  whole  heart,  the 
whole  soul,  the  whole  mind,  and  the  whole  strength.  The  word, 
bete  rendered  aoid,  seems  originally  to  have  been  used  to  denote 
tkt  principle  of  animal  life,  and  to  have  been  commonly  used  ia 
this  sense  by  the  Greeks ;  as  the  two  corresponding  words  of  theip 
respective  languages  were  by  the  Jews  and  Romans.  The 
word,  translated  mind,  is  commonly  used  to  denote  the  vnder- 
standing ;  and  seems  plainly  lo  have  been  used  in  this  manner 
here  ;  since  the  Scribe  expresses  this  as  the  meaning  of  it  in  his 
answer.  The  import  of  this  command  may,  then,  be  stated  thus. 
7hm  thail  love  the  Lord,  thy  God,  mth  ail  thy  heart,  with  all  thine 
Widtntanding,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  throughout  all  thy  life. 
In  other  words,  we  are  required,  under  the  influence  of  this  dis- 


64  I^OVB  TO  GOD.  [SER.  XCII. 

position,  to  devote,  throughout  our  lives,  all  bur  faculties,  and  scr^ 
vices,  to  the  glory  of  Jehovah.  Our  hearts  and  voices,  our  un- 
derstanding and  our  hands,  arc  to  be  entirely,  and  voluntarily, 
dedicated  to  his  service. 

i  iiave  already  observed,  that  Love^  in  this  comprehensive  senae^ 
includes  several  exercises  of  the  mind,  easily  and  customarily  dis- 
tinguished. It  will  be  one  object  of  this  discourse  to  exhibitlhem 
with  this  distinction. 

1  St.  Love  to  God,  as  required  by  this  command^  is  Good-will  to 
htm,  his  designs,  and  interests* 

By  Good-will,  in  this  case,  I  intend  the  very  same  Benevolence, 
formerly  described  as  one  of  the  Attendants  of  Regeneration,  and 
then  mentioned  as  extending  to  the  Creator  and  his  intelligent 
creatures.  Not  a  small  number  of  divines  have  supposed,  that 
Love,  in  this  sense,  is  neither  required,  nor  exerted,  towards  the 
Creator.  "  God,"  say  they,  "  being  supremely  and  .eternally 
blessed  ;  and  the  success  of  his  designs,  and  the  prosperity  of  his 
interests,  being  perfecdy  ?ecui-ed  by  his  power,  knowledge,  and 
presence  ;  there  can  be  no  necessity,  nor  room,  for  any  exorcise 
of  our  good-will  towards  him,  or  them*  Benevolence  is  witli  pro- 
priety exercised  towards  Man,  because  he  needs  it ;  but  cannot 
with  any  such  propriety  be  exercised  towards  God,  who  is  so  far 
from  needing  (jiny  thing,  that  he  gives  unto  all  life^  andhrtatlijOnd 
all  things.'*^ 

These  observations  arc  undoubtedly  .«;pecious.  Yet  the  reason- 
ing, contained  in  them,  is  totally  c  "-oneous ;  and  the  conclusion,  in- 
tended to  be  derived  from  them,  l.ilse  and  mistaken.  To  admit  it, 
is  to  give  up  the  first  duty  of  man. 

Benevolence  depends  not,  either  for  its  obligation  or  exorcise, 
on  the  supposition,  that  the  person,  to\vards  whom  it  may  be  di- 
rected, needs  either  our  benevolence,  or  its  effects.  Happiness, 
its  immediate  object,  is  alwavs,  and  every  where,  supremely  de- 
lightful and  desirable  in  itself;  delightful,  whenever  it  exists;  de- 
sirable, whenever  it  may  exist  hereafter.  The  greater  the  dt^gree 
in  which  it  exists,  or  may  exist  hereafter,  the  more  delightful,  the 
more  desirable,  must  it  be,  of  course.  It  is  desirable,  tl.i-  two 
persons  should  be  happy,  other  things  being  e(jual,  rathe  r  than 
one  ;  twenty  than  two ;  an  hundred  than  twenty.  It  is  in  p  con- 
tinually increasing  proportion  desirable,  that  a  person  shouUl  be 
twice  as  happy,  as  he  is  at  present ;  ten  times  ;■  an  hundred  rimes. 
On  the  same  grounds  it  is  delightful  to  find  happiness  (v:^ting 
in  one  degree ;  more  delightful  in  two ;  and  still  more  in  t»\>'nty, 
or  an  hundred.  To  delight  in  happiness,  in  this  manner,  "s,  in 
the  same  manner,  to  exercise  good- will  towards  the  being  ^\  ho  is 
thus  happy. 

The  happiness,  or  blessedness,  of  God,  as  it  is  more  com ^r only 
termed,  is  no  other,  than  his  Enjoyment  of  his  own  perfect  .  Ittrt' 
btdesj  and  of  the  effuts^  produced  by  them  in  tliat  glorious  sy;^trni  of 


SER.  XCn.]  LOVE    T9  GOD.  $5 

mood^  which  is  begun  in  the  work  of'  Creation^  and  will  he  completed 
m  the  work  of  Providence :  or,  in  other  words,  his  Sufficiency  for 
accomplishing,  the  Ckrtainty  that  he  will  accomplish,  and  the  Actual 
accomplishment  of  a  perfect  system  of  good*  This  is  an  object, 
infinitely  desirable  to  the  Divine  Mind.  Were  it  to  fail ;  this  de- 
sire would  be  ungratified ;  and  the  Divine  Mind  would  be  propor- 
tionally unhappy. 

To  this  it  will  be  objected,  as  it  often  has  been,  that  ^Hhis  doc- 
trine makes  God  dependent  for  his  happiness  on  his  creatures  J^^ 

This  objection  is  a  mistake.  The  doctrine  involves  no  such 
dependence.  The  independence  of  God  consists  not  at  all  in 
the  fact,  that  he  will  be  happy,  whether  his  designs  will  be  accom- 
plished or  not ;  but  in  his  Sufficiency  for  the  absolute  accomplish- 
ment of  them  all ;  and  in  the  absolute  certainty,  that  they  will  be 
thus  accomphshcd.  His  Power,  Wisdom,  and  Godness  are  this 
sufficiency  ;  and  yield  him  intuitive  certainty  of  this  accomplish^ 
ment.  These  things  constitute  the  most  perfect  possible  Indepen- 
dence. 

Were  God  without  desires ;  had  he  no  choice,  no  pleasure ;  he 
could  enjoy  no  happiness.     Were  he  unable  to  fulfil  his  pleasure, 
or  uncertain  whether  it  would  be  fulfilled ;  he  would  be  dependent. 
But,  accoitling  to  this  statement,  his  happiness  and  his  indepen-' 
dence  are  both  absolute. 

The  designs  of  God  are  infinitely  desirable,  because  they  in- 
volve the  display  of  his  infinite  perfections,  in  their  perfect  exer- 
cise, and  in  the  accomplishment  of  a  perfect  system  of  Good.  In 
this  manner  they  present  to  us  the  most  glorious  of  all  objects, 
operating  in  the  most  glorious  manner  to  the  production  of  the 
most  glorious  purpose.  This  object  is,  with  the  highest  evidence, 
infinitely  desirable  and  delighL^ul.  At  the  same  time,  the  happi- 
ness, which  God  enjoys  in  the  exercise  of  his  perfections,  and  in 
the  accomplishment  of  this  divine  End,  is  a  happiness  not  only  in- 
finitely desirable  and  delightful  to  himself,  but  aesirable  in  the  same 
manner  to  all  Intelligent  creatures.  All  Intelligent  creatures,  pos- 
sessed of  real  benevolence,  cannot  fail  to  rejoice,  that  God  is,  and 
ever  will  be,  thus  infinitely  happy ;  that  thei>e  glorious  designs  will 
certainly  be  accomplished ;  that  he  will  ever  tnus  act^  and  that  he 
will  ever  find  infinite  enjoyment  in  thus  acting.  It  is  as  truly  de- 
sirable, that  God  should  be  thus  happy,  as  it  is  that  any  of  his  In 
telligent  creatures  should  be  happy ;  and  as  much  more  desirable, 
as  he  is  happier  than  they. 

Bat  to  delight  in  this  happiness  is  to  exercise  towards  God  the 
benevolence  of  the  Gospel.  I  flatter  myself,  that  to  exeicise  this 
benevolence  has  been  amply  proved  to  be  an  unquestionable  and 
supreme  duty  of  man. 

2dly.  Love  to  God  is  Complacency  in  his  Character.  i. 

It  has  been  shown  in  several  former  discourses,  that  God  is 
infinitely  benevolent ;  in  other  words,  he  is  infinitely  disposed  to 

Vol.  III.  9 


66  M>VE  10  GOD.  [3E1 

desire,  and  perform,  that  which  is  good  in  the  highest  ilrgre 
In  other  words,  he  is  iiirinitely  just,  Taithful,  true,  kind,  broHHiAjfl 
and  merciful.     Such  a  character  is  infinitely  excellent  in 
and  demands  in  ihe  highest  possible  degree,  the  suprein 
prf^balion,  and  the  supreme  Complacency,  of  every  Inli  llJge< 
creffture.  ' 

Benevolence,  as  here  required,  is  o  delight  in  the  Happi'ii-st  ^ 
God:  Complacency  is  a  delight  inhU  Excellence.     The  Escrlience^ 
of  God  contains  in  itself  all  that  Wisdom  can  approve  ;  id!  that'l 
Virtue  can  love  ;  all  that  is  meant  by  the  excellence  and  auiinble' J 
ncss,  by  the  beauty  and  glory   of  Mind;  by  Moral  dignity  and.J 
greatness.     This  is  what  God  himself  esteems  hiaown  siipr'eme  ' 
perfection,  and  the  transcendent  glory  of  his  character.     Artord- 
mgly,  when  he  proclaimed  his  J^a-me  to  Mosts,  on  Mount  Sniui,  he 
proclaimed  this  part  of  his  character  only ;  and  styled  itthefiame, 
or  Glory,  of  Jehovah. 

1  know  not,  that  to  love  God,  m  this  senst,  has  ever  been  denied, 
or  doubted  to  be  a  Christian  duty,  by  such  as  have  beheved  in  the  ^ 
Scriptures.  On  the  contrary,  it  has  been  commonly  supposed^ 
that  Complacency  and  Gratitude  were  the  only  love  to  God  f  quir-  " 
ed  in  hU  Law.  The  happiness  of  God  has  usually  been  i  nnsid-  ' 
.ered  as  so  secure,  so  independent,  and  so  perfect,  as  thai,  win  le  he 
needs  nothing  from  the  hands  of  his  creatures  to  increase  ov  insure 
it,  he  also  may  be  justly  regarded  as  claiming  nothing  from  them, 
with  respect  to  this  suljtf  ct.  His  perfections,  at  the  same  tinie,  are 
so  manifest,  and  so  abM^ft^i  ^^  to  fill  the  mind  with  reverence  and 
amazement,  and  engi-os's  all  its  attention  and  thoughts.  In  ihia 
manner,  pr(ila|£i]y,  the  regard  of  mankind,  and  aven  of  wi-i  and 
good  men,  halbeen  so  efleclually  drawn  away  from  the-coiii^nlera- 
lion  of  the  happiness  of  God  to  the  consideration  of  his  i  XQ||f> 
lence,  that  they  seem  chiefly  lo  have  forgotten  the  former  of  \XfuB 
objects,  and  have  been  almost  wholly  occupied  by  the  latu  r.  At 
the  same  time,  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  to  delight  in  the  ex..'  Hence 
of  God  is  a  duu*  more  otivioiis  lo  the  mind,  than  to  delight  jii  his 
happiness.  Alittlc  reflection  will,  however,  convince  us.  'md  I 
hope  it  has  ali'eady  been  clearly  shown,  that  it  is  not  Sbi^rrr  indis- 
pensable duty.  It  is  plainly  not  our  original  duty.  Il  is  plainly 
not  Virtue,  or  Moral  Excellence,  in  the  original  aeme.  This  is, 
unquestionably,  (Ac  love  ofhappinrss.  Complacency  is  the  !<,ve  of 
this  Virtue,  or  moral  excellence.  But  that  excellence  mus^  '-sist, 
before  it  can  }>e  loved.  The  contrary  supposition  is  a  paljiable. 
absurdity;  to  which  all  those  reduce  themselves^' who  insi^L  that 
Complacency  is  original  virtue.         ^.  j 

3d\y.  7%e  Love  pf  God  is  GratHudt.         ^ 

Gratitude  is  love  to  God  for  the  particuiir  mmn/cstalions  "f  hii 
glorious  character  in  his  various  kindness  to  ns,  and  to  ours.  Wis, 
and  perhaitf  ail  other  Intelligent  beings,  are  so  formed,  as  'o  be 
able  more  clearly  to  see,  and  more  strongly  lo  feel,  blessin^i,  im- 


M-J  LOVX  TO'GOO.  67 

lately  brslowcd  on  ourselves,  and  on  those  mlimalely  cormtct- 
krllti  ua,  whose  characters  and  wants,  whose  sorrows  and  joya, 
~  DCiiiluHy  understand,  and  feel,  than  those  bestowed  on  others. 
t  feet,  universally,  what  is  ours,  Find  what  pertains  to  our  coa- 
Ku,  more,  other  things  being  equal,  than  what  periums  to 
^  whose  interests  we  less  understand,  and  in  whose  conrenia 
relets  in  the  habit  of  mingling;  so  we  feel,  of  course,  more 
jAj  tbc  blessings,  which  uc  and  they  receive  ;  the  deliverances, 
(Opcs,  comforts,  joys ;  than  we  do,  or  can,  those  of  others.  Our 
Dear  connexions  are  our  second  selves ;  and  there  is  sometimes  as 
tittle  ditFercnce,  and  sometimes  even  less,  between  us  and  ihtni  in 
our  views  and  feflings,  than  between  them  and  others.  Nay.  there 
are  cases,  in  which  we  feel  the  interests  of  our  connexions  no  feaa 
than  ourown.  A  parent  would  often  wiHingly  suffer  the  disircsses 
ofachild,  in  order  to  accomplish  relief  for  him ;  and  often  lejoices 
more  in  hia  prosperity,  than  if  it  were  his  own.    . 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  solid  reason  in  the  nature  of  things,  why 

(Sod  should  be  loved  more  for  the  manifestation  of  goodness  to- 

f  ifvds  one  being,  than  for  the  same  manifestation  towards  another. 

-  SliUi  with  our  present  dispositions,  those  acts  of  his  benevolence 

wBchreipect  ourselves,  will  always,  perhaps,  appear  moreaniiable 

than  those  which  respect  others. 

Gnititude,  therefore,  or  Love  loGod  for  the  communicatiims  of 
blessings  to  ourselves,  and  to  those  in  whose  well-being  we  find  a 
direct  and  peculiar  interest,  is  an  affection  oiAe  mind,  in  some  re- 
spects distinct  from  Complacency;  an  alfedKn,  which  mui,  and 
ougbl  10  exist  in  this  world.  As  wc  can  love  God  more  foi  bles- 
sings thus  bestowed^  than  for  those  bestowed  on  others  ;  >o  we 
Oi^t  to  seise  every  occasion'lo  exercise  this  love,  to  the  iitmoat 
oToWPOwer:  and  such  occasions  enable  us  to  exercise  it  in  a  su- 
perior See  re  e. 

Possibly,  in  a  future  world,  and  a  higher  state  of  exisletjre,  all 
the  blessings  of  God,  communicated  to  rational  beings,  may  affect 
ns,  a£  if  communicated  lo  ourselves  ;  and  our  Complacenci,  in  his 
flaractcrinaT  Mniversatly  become  possessed  of  the  whole  intense- 
OK  and  ardoarof  Gratitude. 

GratHuiitfttittitlcral  as  a  virtue,  it  is  always  to  be  ^ememi^ered, 
itLmt,  txtiiedby  kindness  cotnttmnicaled,  or  belitvtd  to  be  e-mmu- 
nicaledt  with  virttiotu  and  good  drsigns,  and  from  good  moliTu  ^ ;  not 
for  kindnesit  brsloncdfor  base  and  stlfsh  ends,  in  every  c;ise  of 
this  imture,  ibe  kindae'ss,  professed,  is  merely  prctendeil,  and 
bypocrilical.  The  Watowcr  terminates  all  his  views  in  hi*  own 
iiav^niagc  ;  and  has  no  ultimat©  regard  to  the  benefit  of  (lie  re- 
ceiver. 

The  kindness  of  Cod  is  invnriably  communicated  with  thi-  best 
ofall  designs,  and  moiives ;  designs  and  motives  infinitely  ;;ood; 
tnd  is,  therefore,  a  display  of  a  character  infinitely  exrtllent. 
Ucoce  it  is  always  to  be  regarded  with  Xiratitude.     The  gm  J  be- 


Si  mercy ;  as  displaji^d  la  his  wonu  antl  word,  in  his  law  aiid 
B     ■ 


gg  LOVE  TO  GODi 

stowedisalsoihcWgheslgood;  and  therefore  die  higbCfllGralimdj 
►  is  due  lo  die  besft)wer.  ■'" 

Ol'  preoepJBf  rcfiuiring  all  these  exercises  of  love,  and  prohibl 
ing  llie  want  of  them  ;  of  examples,  by  which  they  are  glorious^" 
■  illustraied ;  of  motives,  promises,  and  rewards,  by  whicn  ihey  are 
t  divinely  encoui-aged ;  the  Scriptures  are  full.     Particularly,  ihe 

Good'wil!  of  the  Psalmist  to  the  infinitely  great  and  glorious  Cre- 
ator, Preserver,  and  Benefactor,  of  the  Universe,  is  manifested, 
every  where,  throughout  his  sacred  songs.  Every  where  he  re- 
joices In  the  desi||lU,  and  actions,  of  Jehovah;  in  the  certain  ac- 
complishment or- his  designs;  in  the  infinite  glory,  which  he  will 
J  flenve  from  them  all;  in  the  prosperity  of  hiskingdom;  audinthe 

1^.      ■    joy,  which  he^expericnces  in  all  tne  works  of  his  hands. 
y    ,  E[[ua]ly  does  lie  express  his  Complacency  in  the  perfect  char- 

E'  .  '      acicr  of  God;  his  wisdom,  power,  goodness,  truth,  faithfulaess, 

utd  me 
\ '  QQspel, 

•  Nor  is  he  less  abundant  in  his  effusions  of  Gratitude  for  all 

J.  divine  goodness  lo  himself  and  his  family  to  the  people  of  /a 

I  anil  (he  Churcli  of  God.     In  expressing  these  emotions,  he  is  ar- 

dent, intense,  sublime,  and  1-aftui'ous:  an  illuslrious  example  lo 
*  \  all,;who  have  come  after  him,  of  die  manner,  jot  which  we  should 
IJ  feel^  And  in  which  wc  should  express,  our  love  to  God. 

K  Like  him,  the  Prophet  Isaiah,  the  Apostle  Paul,  and  generally 

f,  all  the  Scriptural  wjalers,  in  wovks  not  directly  devotional,  but 

W'  '       doctrinal  and  preceptive,  exhibit,  with  corresponding  ardour  and 
,    •      sublimityMflWjA  most  excellent  dispositions.     It  is  hardly  neces- 
,  sapy  to  add,  that  our  own  emotions,  and  expressions,  ought  lo  be 

of  the  same  general  nature.  ^ 
■  •  Having  thus  exhibited,  BiHroarily,  the  Nature  of  Love  to  God, 

in  these  three  great  exercises,  1  will  now  proceed  to  allege  several 
reasons,  which  demand  of  us  these  exercises  of  piety. 

1st.   Tliis  service  is  "hig/ili/ rtaaonable,  beautiful ,  and  amiablt,  in 
bUel/Mtnl  creaturts. 

God,  from  the  considerations  mentioned  in  this  discourse,  pre- 
sents to  us  in  his  blessedness,  in  his  excellence,  and  in  his  com- 
''  munications  of  g90d,  filll  possible  reasons,  in  all  possible  degrees, 

why  wc  should  exercise  towards  him  our  supreme  Benevolence, 
Complacency,  and  Gratitude.     His  enjoyment  is  the  sum  of  all 
happiness;  his  character  the  sum  of  all  perfection;  and  his  com- 
,'         munications  of  goo  J  the  amount  of  all  the  blessings,  found  ia  the 
universe.     These,   urutftd,  constitute  an  oHject,   assemblllte  in 
'^k^elf,  comparatively  speaking,  aD  naliu-al  and  moral  beauty,  gfory, 
and  excellence ;  whatever  can  be  desired,  esteemed,  or  loved. 
2dly.  God  injinileli/  lovti  kimnelf. 

The  conduct  of  God  is,  in  every  case,  the  result  of  views  and 
'  dispositions,  perfectly  wtte,  and  just,  and  good,  and  becomes, 

wherever  they  can  imitate  it,  a  perfect  rule  to  direct  the  conduct 


J 


Stai.  XCtt]  LOVE  TO  GOD.  69 

of  his  Intelligent  creatures.  In  this  case,  the  rale  is  as  perfect,  as 
in  any  other!  and  in  this  case,  as  well  as  every  other,  it  is  the 
highest  honour,  and  the  consummate  rectitude,  of  *U  Jnteliigent 
creatures,  to  resemble  iheir  Creator.  So  far  as  we  resemble  hia, 
we  are  secure  of  being  right,  excellent,  and  lovely. 

At  the  same  itriie,  so  far  as  we  are  hke  him,  we  are  assumed  of 
his  approbation  and  love,  and  of  receiving  from  his  hands  all  the 
good,  which  our  real  interests  require.     As  he  loves  himself;  he 
caDnot  but  love  his  resemblance,  wherever  it  is  found. 
Sdly.  tn  this  conduct  tuc  unitt  with  all  virtuous  beings. 
This  is  the  very  conduct,  which  especially  constitutes  them  vir- 
tuous, and  without  which  their  virtue,  in  eiitn/  other  sciifc,  would 
cease  to  exist.     For  this  they  love  and  approve  themselves :  for 
this  they  will  approve  and  love  us.     By  these  exercises  of  piety, 
then,  we  become,  at  once,  entirely,  and  for  ever,  members  of  their 
glorious  assembly ;  secure  of  their  esteem,  fiiendship,  and  Idnd 
.    offices;  and  entitled,  ofcourse,  toa  participation  of  their  divine 
r*and  immortal  enjoyment.     The  best  friends,  die  most  delightful 
cofflpantODs,  the  most  honourable  connexions,  which  the  universe 
contains,  or  will  ever  contain,   are  in   this  manner  made  ours 
throughout  the  ages  of  our  endlesHKing. 

4thly.  We  unite  with  God,  and  the  virtuous  universe,  in  voiunta- 
rHif  promoting  thai  tvpreme  good,  which  by  his  own  perjectiontf  and 
their  iTiitrumenlatily,  he  Jias  begun  to  accomplish. 

This  work  is  literally  divine :  the  supreme,  the  only,  display  of 
divine  escellence,  which  ever  has  been,  or  ever  will  be,  made :  an 
inunense  and  eternal  kingdom  of  virtue  and  happiness:  all  that 
wisdom  can  approve,  or  virtue  desire.  To  engage  in  it,  is  to  en- 
rage in  the  best  of  all  employmeafb  To  choose  it,  is  to  exhibit 
Uie  best  of  all  characters.  It  is  to  choose  what  God  himself 
chooses  ;  to  pursue,  what  he  pursues  ;  to  act,  as  he  acts  ;  and  to 
hefei/ow-workers  together  with  him  in  the  glorious  edifice  of  eternal 
fOod*  The  disposition  required  in  this  command,  is  the  same, 
which  in  trim,  and  in  all  his  virtuous  creatures,  originated,  advan- 
ces, and  will  complete,  this  divine  building  in  Its  ever-growing 
liability,  beauty,  and  splendour, 
fithly.  We  secure,  and  enjoy,  the  greatest  happiness. 
Love  lo  God  is  a  disposition  inestimably  sweet  and  delijghtful ; 
del^htful  in  itself;  delightful  in  its  oncrations;  delightful  In -its 
efiiscib  All  the  exercises  of  it  are  in  tlieu-  own  nature,  and  while 
theytflre  passing,  a  aeries  of  exquisite  enjoyments.  They  operate 
only  to  good ;  and  are,  therefore,  highly  pleasurable  in  all  their 
?ariou3  tendency.  Their,  cffecLu  both  within  and  without  the  soni, 
we  cither  pure,  unmingled  happiness,  directly  enjoyed  by  our- 
Klvea  ;  or  a  similar  happiness,  first  enjoyed  by  others,  and 
then  returning  to  ourselves  with  a  doubly  encleared  and  charming 
rerersion. 


70  LOVE  TO  GOD.  [3EB.  TLdL 

This  dispositioD  leads  us  unceasingly  to  contemplate  the  most 
exalted,  wonderful,  and  delightful  objects;  the  things,  which  God 
has  already  done,  is  daily  accompiislung,  and  has  disclosed  to  us 
in  his  promises  as  hereafter  to  be  accomplished.  Conlemplaiioo 
on  the  works  of  God,  when  they  are  regarded  as  being  his  works, 
is  capable  of  furnishing  us  with  dignified  and  intense  eiijoymeDL 
To  produce  this  effect,  however,  it  is  indispensable,  that  we  should 
view  them  under  the  influence  of  this  disposition.  The  mind  can 
experience  no  pleasure  in  contemplating  the  actions  of  a  being, 
whom  it  does  not  love.  Love  to  God  opens  the  galea  of  enjoy- 
ment ;  and  of  all  enjoyment,  furnished  by  the  works  of  creation 
and  providence,  so  lar  as  it  springs  from  the  consideration,  thai 
ihey  are  Ai*  work.  Through  tnis  enjoyment  it  conducts  the  mind 
to  others ;  and  to  others  stiU,  in  a  train  which  knows  no  end. 
Wherever  we  are,  or  can  be,  dehghled  with  displays  of  boundless 
wisdom  and  boundless  goodness,  with  the  perfect  efforts  of  a  per 
feet  character,  Love  to  God  is  the  guide  which  conducts  us  to  the 
divine  possession. 

Beyond  this,  He,  who  created  us  for  this  glorious  purpose,  and 
who  delights  lo  see  itaccomphshed,  cannot  fail  to  be  pleased  with 
us,  while  engaged  in  it;  and,  therefore,  will  not  fail  to  reward  us 
with  his  blessing.  In  this  path,  then,  we  ascend  lo  the  divine  fa- 
vour; ste  the  good  of  his  chosen  ;  enjoy  the  gladness  of  kia  nation  j 
and  share  the  glory  of  his  inheritance.  Eternal  glory,  then,  is  the 
natural,  the  necessary,  result  of  Love  to  God.  Indeed,  eternal 
■glory  is  nothing  but  his  eternal  and  unchangeable  love  to  us,  and 
our  eternal  and  unchanging  love  to  Him  ;  united  with  the  same 
love,  eitended,  and  reciprocated  among  all  virtuous  beings.  In 
the  world  to  come,  this  divine  disposition  will  become  more  and 
more  sweet  and  delightful ;  and  in  every  mind,  be,  in  the  beautiAi 
language  of  our  Saviour,  a  toell  of  aaler,  springing  up  unto  everUtt- 
ing  life. 

6thly.  Without  love  to  God,  there  can  be  no  Virtue,  or  Moral 
Exctllence, 

Love  is  a  single  character;  uniform  in  its  nature,  and  in  no  way 
separable,  even  in  contemplation,  except,  merely,  as  it  is  exercis- 
ea  towards  different  objects.  These  give  it  all  those,  which  are 
considered  as  its  different  forms.  In  aU  these  forms  it  is  exercised 
by  the  same  man,  in  exactly  the  same  manner.  If  it  be  found  in 
one  of  these  forms,  in  any  mind,  it  is,  of  course,  found  in  Ae  same 
mind,  in  every  other  form,  whenever  the  object,  which  gives  it  that 
form,  is  presented  to  that  mind.  Thus  he,  who  possesses  Bene-oo- 
lence,  when  happiness  is  the  object  present  to  him,  exercises 
Complacency  whenever  he  contemplates  Moral  Excellence  ;  aodf 
Gratitude,  whenever  he  turns  his  thoughts  towards  a  Benefactor, 
Thus  also,  he,  who  loves  God,  loves  his  fellow-creatures  of  couraei 
and,  of  course,  governs  himself  with  evangelical  moderation  ata 
celf-denial.     In  all  these  exercises  of  mind,  and  all  others  of  a  vir* 


SER.  XCU.]  LOVE  TO  GOa  7I 

tuous  nature,  a  single,  indivisible  disposition  exisis,  and  operates. 
This  disposition  is  Uie  Love,  retiuircd  by  the  divine  law;  the  Love, 
which  St.  Paul  declares  lobe  Ihe/vlJiUing  of  lk(  Lam  t  not  Love, 
of  various  kinds ;  not  a  train  or  dispositions,  diversified  in  their  na- 
ture, and  springing  up,  successively,  at  new  objects  are  presented 
(o  the  nilncl :  but  Love,  of  exactly  the  same  nature,  diversified  only 
by  being  exercised  towards  difierent  ot  jects. 

This  disposition  is  the  only  real  excellence  of  mind.     There  -4 

is  no  ultimate  good,  but  happiness;  and  no  disposition  originally  fl 

food,  but  that  which  rejoices  in  It,  and  voluntarily  promotes  it.        '  ■ 
lenevolence  is,   therefore,  the  only  original  excellence  of  mind;  ' 

and  13  the  foundation  of  all  the  real  excellence  of  Complacency 
and  Gratitude  ;  which  are  only  subordinate  forms,  or  exercises,  of 
the  same  character. 

7thly.  ji  higher,  nobler,  slale  of  being  is  enjoyed  bj/  him,  wA* 
Imts  God,  than  can  possibly  be  enjoyed  by  any  other. 

God  is  the  Origin,  and  Residence,  of  all  ihat  is  great,  or  good, 
in  the  universe.  All  other  greatness  and  goodness  are  mere  ema- 
nations from  the  greatness  and  goodness  of  Jehovah.  To  have 
no  delight  in  these  glorious  attributes,  boundlessly  existing  in  the 
lolinltc  Mind,  is  to  be  destitute  of  the  noblest  and  best  of  all  view3 
and  affections  ;  of  affections  and  views,  fitted  in  ihelr  own  nature 
to  improve,  ennoble,  refine,  and  enrapture,  the  mind  j  and  to  form 
it  into  a  most  honourable  resemblance  10  the  Sum  of  all  perfection. 
Without  this  disposition,  we  are  sinners ;  enemies  to  God  ;  spots 
in  his  kingdom ;  and  nuisances  to  the  universe :  are  debased, 
guilty,  and  hateful,  here ;  and  shall  be  endlessly  guilty  and  miser- 
able nereafter. 
8lhly.  In  this  manner  Kt  obey  God,  J 

God.  whose  me  are,  and  ickom  ;oe  are  btnind  to  serve,  has  been  M 

pleased  10  express  his  pleasure  to  the  Intelligent  universe  in  these        *  ■ 
two  commands.     He,  who  published  them,  is  our  Maker,  our  Pre-  ■• 

^  server,  and  our  Benefactor.  We  are  his  property ;  created  by  his 
band  ;  formed  for  his  use ;  ihade  for  his  glory.  His  right  to  dis- 
pose of  us  according  to  his  pleasure  is,  therefore,  supreme ;  and 
mch  as  cannot  be  questioned.  It  is  a  right,  of  course,  which,  al- 
Ihosgh  so  exercised,  as  lo  demand  of  us  very  great,  and  long-con- 
tinued self-denial,  is  ever  tube  submissively,  patiently,  and  cheer- 
ftilly,  icltnowledged  by  us.  Whatever  God  is  pleased  to  require 
lis  to  Aj,  or  to  suffer,  we  arc  to  do  with  delight,  and  suffer  with  ab- 
lofuie  resignation.  I  do  not  mean,  that  we  can  be  required,  either 
HJdi  justice  or  propriety,  to  do,  or  to  suffer,  any  thing  which  is  un- 
^Kl,  or  wrong.  To  require  this  of  Intelligent  creatures,  is  literally 
'  B^pcwsible  for  a  Mind  infinitely  perfect.  But  I  mean,  that  what- 
<  Mer  this  perfect  and  great  Being  actually  requires,  we  are  abso- 
httely  bound  to  do,  or  suffer,  in  this  manner. 

At  the  same  lime,  it  is  a  soui'ce  of  Unceasing  satisfaction  and  de- 
li^t,  to  ditcern,  from  the  nalurt  of  the  subject  itself,  that  all. 


LOVE  TO  GOD.  [SER.  XOL 

which  is  uctnalli/  reqtnred,  is  holy,  just,  and  good  ;  supremely  faon- 
ourable  to  Him,  and  supremely  beneficial  to  his  Intelligent  crea- 
tures. This,  I  flatter  myself,  has  been  sufficiently  shown  in  this 
and  the  preceding  discourses.  It  is  delightful,  while  we  are  em- 
ployed in  obeying  God,  to  perceive  immediately,  that  our  conduct 
IS  io  all  respects  desirable  ;  the  most  desirable,  the  most  amiable, 
the  most  delightful,  of  all  possible  conduct ;  in  a  word,  the  only 
conduct,  which  really  deserves  these  epithets. 

Obedience  to  a  parent,  possessed  of  peculiar  wisdom  and  good- 
ness, is,  to  every  dutiful  child,  delightful  in  itself;  not  only,  when 
the  thing,  required  by  bim,  is  in  its  own  nature  pleasing ;  but  also 
when  it  is  indifferent,  and  even  when  it  is  difficult  and  painful. — 
The  pleasure,  enjoyed,  is  in  a  great  measure  independent  of  that 
whicn  is  done  ;  ana  consists,  primarily,  in  the  delightful  nature  of 
those  affections,  which  are  exercised  in  obeying,  and  in  the  sa- 
tisfaction of  pleasing  Him,  whom  we  obey,  by  the  respect  and 
love,  manifested  in  our  obedience.  The  Parent  of  the  universe  is 
possessed  of  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness.  To  please  him,  there- 
rore,  is  supremely  desirable  and  delightful.  But  the  only  conduct, 
in  which  we  can  possibly  pileasc  him,  is  our  obedience  ;  and  our 
only  obedience  is  to  /oce  han  aith  all  the  heart,  and  our  neighbour 

Thus,  whetlier  we  regard  ourselves,  and  wish  to  be  virtuous, 
escellenl,  honourable,  and  happy  ;  or  whether  we  regard  ourjtl- 
law-ereatura,  and  wish  to  render  them  happy ;  to  unite  with  them 
iuapureand  eternal  friendship;  to  receive  unceasingly  their  es 
teem  and  kind  offices  ;  and  to  add  our  efforts  lo  theirs  for  the  pro- 
motion of  the  universal  good  ;  or  whether  we  regard  God ;  and 
desire  to  obey,  to  please,  and  lo  glorify  Him  ;  to  coincide  volun- 
tarily with  the  designs,  formed  by  his  boundless  wisdom  and  good- 
ness ;  and  to  advance  with  our  own  cordial  exertions  the  divine 
and  immortal  ends,  which  he  is  accomplishing ;  we  shall  make  it 
our  chief  object  to  love  iht  Lord,  our  God,  with  all  the  heart,  am' 
nilh  all  the  soul,  and  with  ail  the  strength,  and  with  all  the  u 
itandinir. 


SERMON  XCIII. 


In  (he  last  discourse,  I  examined  the  J'falure  o/LoTie  to  God^  as 
manifested  in  those  three  great  exercises  of  it,  which  are  com- 
monl)'  spoken  of  under  this  name :  viz.  Benevolence,  Complacent 
cy,  and  Gratitude.  1  shall  now  consider  another  exercise  of  this 
uectioQ,  of  sufficient  magniiude  to  claim  a  particular  discussion 
in  a  system  of  Theology.     This  is  Reverence  to  the  tame  glorious 

The  Context  is  an  eulogium  on  Wiidom ;  uttered  in  the  noblest 
spirit  of  poetry.  After  describing,  in  a  variety  of  particulars,  the 
surprising  effects  of  human  ingenuity,  and  declaring,  that,  extraor- 
dinary as  these  may  seem,  the  mgenuity,  which  has  produced  them, 
it  utlerlr  insufficient  to  discover  the  nature  of  this  glorious  attain- 
ment ;  Job  asserts  its  value  to  be  greater  than  any,  and  than  all, 
the  most  precious  things,  which  this  world  contains.  In  this  state 
of  human  insufficiency,  he  informs  us,  God  was  pleased  to  in- 
terfere, and  by  a  direct  Revelation  to  declare  lo  man,  that  the 
fear  of  the  Lord  u  Wiidom,  and  to  depart  from  evil  is  Under- 
itandaur. 

By  Wiidom,  throughout  the  Scriptures,  in  the  common  language 
of  such  men  as  understand  the  meaning  of  their  own  language,  is 
unJTersally  intended  that  Conduct,  in  mAi'cA  the  beat  Means  are  »e- 
Uettd  to  accomplish  the  best  Enda  ,■  or  the  Spirit,  which  chooses  thete 
Imdsy  and  celectt  these  Meanifor  their  acconwtiihment.  In  thejbr- 
tMrnuf,  the  name  refers  to  the  Conduct  only)  in  the  latltr,  to  tht 
Character.  The  best  of  all  Ends,  which  it  is  possible  for  Intelli- 
gent creatures  to  pursue,  is  the  combined  and  perfectly  coincident 
one  of  glorifying  God,  and  promoting  the  good  of  the  universe. 
TbeS[Mrit,  with  which  this  is  done  in  Oieonly  effectual  manner,  ia 
that,  which  is  here  styled  the  Fear  of  the  Lord.  The  Means,  by 
which  it  b  done,  are  partly  the  Spint  itself,  in  its  various  exercises 
and  operations ;  and  partly  extraneous  Means,  devised,  and  em- 
ployed, by  the  same  Spirit. 

A  subordinate,  but  still  very  important,  end,  which  is,  or  ought 
to  be,  proposed  to  himself  by  every  Intelligent  creature,  and  Tor 
wliicb  the  most  efficacious  means  ought  to  be  employed  by  him,  ii 

Vol.  m.  to 


1 


74  REVERENCE  OF  GOD.  [SER.  XCDL 

his  own  EUmal  Happiness.  The  Fear  of  the  Lord  is  equally  Wit- 
dom^  in  this  view ;  as  being  the  only  disposition,  which  can  either 
be  happy  in  itself,  or  receive  its  proper  reward  from  God. 

Every  person,  who  has  read  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, must  have  observed,  that  this  phrase,  the  Fear  of  the  Lord^ 
and  others  substantially  involving  the  same  words,  as  well  as  the 
same  meaning,  are  oftener  used  to  denote  the  moral  character, 
which  is  acceptable  to  God,  than  any,  perhaps  than  all,  oth^ 
phrase3  whateyjer.  It  must,  also,  have  struck  every  such  reader, 
that  this  plirase  is  often  used  to  denote  all  moral  excellence ;  par- 
ticularly, that  supreme  branch  of  this  excellence,  which  is  deno* 
minated  Piety.  This  is  plainly  the  drift  of  the  text ;  and  of  oiany 
other 'corresponding  passages  of  Scripture.  Thus  it  is  Md^  -T^t 
Fear  of  the  Lord  ts  the  beginnings  or  the  chief  part,  ofWuidomm 
PsaUn  cxi.  10.  TTu  Ftar  of  the  Lord  u  a  fountain  if  Vfk^  Pvov. 
xiv.  27.  The  Fear  of  the  Lord  is  his  treasure,  b.  zxzni.  6«-  Id 
these,' and  a  multitude  of  other,  deiclarations,  of  a  similar  inpoft,  it 
is  plsSnly  indicated,  that  the  Fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  sum^  and  sub^ 
stance^  of  that  morally  excellent  character,  which  is  the  obj«^  d 
the  divine  complacency. 

It  musft,  at  the  same  time,  be  equally  obvious  to  every  atteoCife 
reader  df  the  Bible,  that  Love  io  Uod  nas,  there^  exactlyr^hcf  BUm 
character:  being,  in  the  language  of  Sf.Poti/,  th^ftJfiilingbf.ihs 
lata  ;  ahd  in  that  of  Sf.  John,  the  same  thing,  as  bemg  bomofOoi 
andknoaii^  Ood)  in  thesehse,  in  which  such  knowle<%e  ni  de- 
clared by  pur  Saviour  to  bb  life  eternal.  ■ '  «<-' 

Buttner^  are  not  two  distinct  moral  characters,  sererally  fhus 
excellent ;  thus  the  objects  of  the  divine  complacency,-  amh  the 
foundations  of  eternal  fife.  Moral  excellence  is  one  thhig^j  sund 
moral  beinai  have  but  one  character j  which  recommends  Ibent  to 
God.  As  %is  IS  (bus  dififerendy  spoken  of tinderthe  names  of  lAt 
Love  of  Q^  s(nd  the  Ftar  of  God,  both  in  the  Old  andNeir  Tes« 
tament ;  it  is  sufficielitly  evident  to  a  miild,  even  sKghtly  atteetire^ 
that  fAe  Fear  ofCfod,  and  Love  ofOod,  are  but  Onecfaaracter^^ap^ 
pearihg  under  different  modifications.  'Accordingly  samts,  -or te- 
ly  persons,  ate  spoken  of  sometimes  aj^  those  ^o  fear  God^^  ttoA 
sometimes  as  those  who  love  God :  each  of  these  exerds^  hriSng 
cbnsidered  as  involving  the  other ;  and  both,  asparts  only  of  one 
character.  .    • 

"  That  this  view  of  the  subiect  is  perfectly  Just,  is  easily  tepWii* 
e4  by  a  c6ti8iqerati6ii  of  its  , Nature.  There  kre  tWo  tottdHy.  ds- 
tiAct  exercises,  which  in  the'  Scriptures,  as  well  as  in  tidmmoithkBh 
gulage,  are 'denoted  by  Fearing  God ;  which  may  be  call^  Arasd^ 
and  Reverence.  The  former  of  these  emotions  is  diiit,^'whieh  is 
^cjfierienc^  by  meti,,  consdotts  of  their  guilt,  feeKng'tet'  they 
liave  miiiv^  tne*&nger  of  God,  •  ^eoid  r^liahg  the  danMudf  ivfler* 
ing  from  his  hand  the  punishment  of  their  sins.  In  iku  it  is  plain, 
that  there  can  be  no  moral  excellence.    All  that  can  be  said  in 


XGOL]  AEYERENCE  OF  GOa  75 

fiiTOur  of  it  is,  that  it  may  serve  as  a  check  to  sin ;  and  prove, 
imong  other  means,  useful  to  bring  sinners  to  repentance.  In  tt« 
idf  itismene  tern»r;  and  in  the  language  of  the  Scriptures  only 
BMdces  lis  sMect  to  bondage.  The  Tatter  of  these  emotions  is  a 
oorapound  of  Fear  and  love,  usuallv  styled  Reverence ;  end  is 
oftfto  that  exercise  of  the  mind,  in  which  its  whole  attachment  is 
exerted  towards  God.  Fear^  in  this  sense,  is  a  strong  apprehend 
nan  of  the  greatness^  and  the  ferity ^  ofGod^  excited  in  the  mind  of 
apersonf  who  loves  him  supremely.  A  lively  example  of  a  similar 
emotion  is  presented  to  us  by  the  reverence,  with  which  a  dutiful 
^Id  regards  a  highly  respected  Earthly  P^ent.  Accordingly, 
the  feer  of  God,  m  this  sense,  is  commonlv  styled  ^/ta/;  in  the 
fiwmer  sense,,  it  is  often  termed  servile  or  slavish;  as  being  of  the 
s—e  uatufe  .with  the  dread,  which  a  mercenary  servant  stands  in 
of  an  imperious  master. 

:  It  18  perfectly  evident,  that  the  distinction  between  these  two 
enoCions  is  founded  entirely  on  the  character  of  thos^e,  by  whom 
they  aire  severally  exercised.  Reverence  to  God  is  experienced 
only  by  those  who  love  him ;  and  is  plainly  the  fear,  exercised  by 
an  affiectiooate  mind  only.  Were  Love  the  only  character  of  the 
mind.  Dread  could  not  possibly  find  a  place  in  it.  There  is  no 
fear  m  love^  says  St.  John ;  but  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear.  He 
ihaiftareih  is  not  made  perfect  in  love.  As  Christians  in  this  world 
are  not  made  perfect  in  love ;  the  fear,  spoken  of  in  this  passage,. 
viz»  that- which  I  have  called  dreadj  is,  in  greater  or  less  degrees, 
experienced  by  them.  Wipked  men  are  incapable  of  reverenc- 
JBgGod ;  and  only  feel  a  dread  of  his  anger  and  of  punis^erit. 

^The  Reverence,  which  is  the  immediate  subject  of  obnsidera- 
tion,  ordinarily  exists  in  the  mind  of  a  good  man,  wbepever  his 
contemplations  are  turned  towards  the  Creator,  or  towards  those 
directs,  which  are  peculiarly  his  and  in  which  he  is  peculiarly 
^  His  a  steaayj  solemn,  and  delightful  awCf  excited  in  th$ 
I  ij/  every  viem  which  it  takes  of  the  perfections,  and  i^eratiom. , 
dF4hi9 great  and  glorious  Being.  In  our  contemplatioi)S,  on  his'- 
Character,  He  lumself  becomes  immediately  the  object  of  our 
Ihonglits.  In  all  other  cases  we  see  him  through  the  medium  of  his 
.vcuks,  his  word,  or  his  ordinances.  In  all  these,  and  in  these 
•lone,  are  we  able  to  discern  his  real  character.  In  all  these  we 
Mold  him  awfully  great,  and  wise,  and  good.  In  his  Works,  we 
are  witnesses  of  that  boundless  benevolence  which  chose,  that 
boondless  knowledge  which  contrived,  and  that  boundless  power 
lAidi^MOduced,  their  existence ;  aR  of  them  seen,  daily,  in  every 
plMe^iadin  every  object.  It  is  impossible  for  the  mind,  whicn 
■••not  totally  destitute  of  Piety,  to  oehold  the  sublime,  the  aw- 
M,  tlie<  amazing,  works  of  Creation  and  Providence ;  the  heaveqs 
widi  Aeir  iomioaries,  the  mountains,  the  ocean,  the  storm,  the 
MrChqoike,  and  the  volcano :  the  circuit  of  the  seasons,  and  the 
nrohnons  of.  empire :  without  marking  in  them  all  the  mighty 


^r 


75  BEVEBENCE  OF  GOD.  [8SR.  ZCm. 


hand  of  God.  and  feeling  strong  emotions  of  Reverence  towards 
the  Author  oi  these  stupendous  works.  At  some  of  them  all  men 
tremble :  at  others  all  men  are  astonished.  But  the  sanctified 
mind,  while  it  is  affected  in  the  same  manner,  blends  its  fear  with 
love ;  and  mingles  delight  even  with  its  apprehensions ;  is  serene 
amid  the  convulsions,  which  only  terrify  others ;  and  encouragc^d, 
while  all  around  are  overwhelmed  with  dismay. 

In  thi  Word  o/God^  these  attributes  are,  in  some  respectSi  ex- 
hibited in  a  still  more  affectine  manner.  Here,  the  designs  of  this 
awftd  Being  are  unfolded,  ana  his  works  presented,  to  us,  as  a  vast 
system  of  means,  operating  in  a  perfect  manner  to  the  production 
of  the  most  divine  and  glorious  ends.  Here,  the  pure  and  per* 
feet  Rectitude  of  the  Creator,  his  unlimited  Wisdom,  and  overflow- 
ing Goodness,  are  still  more  divine^  manifested  in  the  Law,  by 
which  he  governs  the  universe,  and  in  the  scheme  of  restoring 
mankind  to  holiness  by  the  Redemption  of  his  Son,  disclosed  to 
us  in  the  Gospel.  The  boundless  nature  of  these  things  invests 
them  with  a  magnificence  and  sublimity,  wonderfully  mcreasing 
the  Reverence,  excited  by  the  things  themselves ;  out  nothing 
seems  to  me  more  fitted  to  awaken  this  emotion,  than  a  sense  of 
that  spotless  purity,  in  the  viow  of  which  the  heavens  are  imcleauj 
and  the  angels  chargeable  with  folly.  In  the  solemn  contempla- 
tion of  this  awfully  amiable  attribute,  it  seems  difficult  to  forbear 
exclaiming,  What  is  man^  who  drxnketh  iniqvity  like  water  f  The 
same  emotion,  mingled  with  stronger  feelings  of  alarm,  is  pro- 
duced, also,  by  a  contemplation  of  those  amazing  events,  wnich 
are  proclaimed  by  the  voice  of  prophecy  concerning  the  future  des 
tination  of  man :  the  Conflagration,  the  Judgment,  and  the  Retri- 
butions of  the  righteous  and  the  wicked. 

In  the  Ordinances  of  Religion^  the  very  same  things  are  present- 
ed to  the  view  of  the  mind,  which  so  deeply  affect  it  in  the  Works, 
and  especial!  V  in  the  Word  of  God)  and  are  presented  to  us  in.  a 
manner  peculiarly  interesting.  Here,  we  in  a  peculiar  manner  draw 
nigh  to  God }  and  apply  to  ourselves,  'with  unrivalled  force,  the 
great,  the  awfiil,  ana  the  glorious  things,  which  excite  our  Rever- 
ence. They  are,  of  course,  all  seen  in  the  clearest  lieht ;  and  felt 
with  the  deepest  impression.  Our  Reverence,  therefore,  is  apt  to 
be  here  felt  in  a  peculiar  de^ee ;  not  a  little  enhanced  by  the  sym- 
pathy, exercised  by  multitudes  feeling  the  same  impression. 

No  affection  of  the  mind  is  more  usefiil  than  this ;  especially, 
when  it  has  become  so  invi^rated  by  habit,  as  to  min^e  itself 
with  all  our  thoughts  and  feelings.  It  cannot  but  be  advantageous 
to  mention,  particularly,  some  of  the  happy  consequences,  which 
it  regularly  produces.  As  a  preface  to  this  subject,  it  will,  how- 
ever, be  proper  to  observe,  generally,  that  habitual  Reverence  to 
God  may  be  justly  regardea  as  being,  peculiarly,  the  spirit,  widi 
which  his  commandments  are  scrupulously  and  mithfully  obeyed. 
F%ar  Oodj  saith  Solomon^  and  keep  ku  commandments :  for  this  it  lAs 


* 

XCOL]  RETERfiNCE  OF  GOD.  77 


V* 


whole  duty  of  man:  or,  in  the  better  language  of  Hodgam^*  Ver- 
Boui  thi$  is  all  that  cohcemethman.  Here  we  have  presented  to  us 
the  twoereat  parts  of  humap  duty;  our  active  obedience,  and  the 

Sirit  wiui  which  we  obey.  This  spirit  is  announced  by  him  to  be 
•Terence.  He  does  not  say,  .Lave  God^  and  kttf  his  corrtfnand- 
menu  ;  but  gives  this  all-comprehensive  injunction  in  what  seems 
to  me  very  evidently  better  language.  If  we  suppose  ourselves  to 
love  God,  without  faring  him ;  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying,  we 
should  not  keep  his  commandments,  while  possessed  of  our  pre- 
sent imperfection,  either  to  such  an  extent,  or  with  such  exactness, 
as  we  now  do  when  under  the  government  of  evangelical  Rever- 
ence. Reverence  adds  new  motives  of  obedience  to  those,  whicli 
are  presented  by  love,  considered  by  itself:  Motives  pre-eminent- 
ly powerful  and  extensive;  niching  the  heart  immeaiately  *,  and 
extending  to  all  persons,  occasions,  and  times.  Hence  it  becomes 
a  most  powerful  prompter  to  universal  obedience :  and,  although 
love  is  Uie  disposition,  which  renders  this  emotion  excellent ;  and 
although  the  emotion  itself  is  only  one  modification  of  love;  yet, 
in  my  own  view,  and  if  I  mistake  not,  in  the  view  of  the  Scriptures 
also,  it  b,  at  least  in  such  beings  as  men  are,  a  more  energetic  prin- 
ciple, than  mere  love,  existing,  as  it  actually  does  exist  in  human 
minds«  Hence,  after  so  much  solemn  preparation  in  the  context, 
God  declares  in  the  text,  7%e  Fear  o/ihe  Lardj  that  is  Wisdom, 
Hence,  St.  Paid  says  to  the  Corinthiansj  Havings  therefore^  then 
fromieeMy  dearly  beloved^  let  us  cleanse  ourselves  from  all  flthiness 
oftkefieshy  ana  of  the  sj^rit ;  perfecting  holiness  in  the  Fear  of  God. 
In  this  passage  it  is  evident  that,  in  the  view  of  St.  Paul,  tne  Fear 
if  God  IB  the  primary  means  of  advancing  personal  holiness  to 
perfection.  It  is  in  this  view  also,  that  the  Prophet  Isaiah  declares 
tkt  Fear  of  the  Lord  to  be  his  treasure;  the  attribute,  which,  in 
man,  he  especially  prizes,  and  in  which  he  peculiarly  delights. 

lliese  ODservations  concerning  the  general  influence  of  this  at- 
tribute are  sufficient  for  the  present  purpose.  I  shall  now,  there- 
fere,  pfoceed  to  mention  its  particular  influence  on  the  Christian 
life. 

Ist.  Religious  Reverence  has  a  peculiar  tendency  to  render  our 
worship  acceptable  to  God. 

Wherefore^  says  St.  Paulj  we  receiving  a  kingdom  which  cannot  be 
wunedjkius  have  graccj  whereby  we  may  serve  him  acceptably  with 
reverence  tmd  goMv  fear.  In  this  passage,  the  grace  of  God  is 
exhibited  to  us  as  the  cause,  which  enables  us  to  worship  God  ac- 
ceptably ;  and  Reverence  and  £odly  Fear,  two  names  for  the  same 
dispositMm,  as  the  spirit,  with  which  acceptable  worship  is  perform- 
ed. ^Bj  this  spirit,''  says  Dr.  Owen,  ^^  the  soul  is  moved  and  ex« 
dted  to  spiritual  care  and  diligence,  not  to  provoke  so  great,  so 
holy,  and  so  jealous,  a  God  by  a  neglect  of  tnat  exerdse  of  ^race^ 
he  re4Dire8  in  his  service,  which  is  due  to  him  on  account  of  his  g|lo^ 
noas  excellencies.'' 


78  AEVCRENCE  OF  GOD.  [SER.  XGOL 

In  accordance  with  this  representation  of  th^  Apostle,  the  Psalm- 
ist  says,  Ps.  v.  7,  As  for  me,  IwUl  come  into  thy  hmse  in  the  mii/l»-. 
tude  of4ku  mercy  f  and  m  thf  fear  mil  I  worship  toward  thy  hobf 
temple.     Our  Saviour  aboy  speaking  in  the  33a  Psahn,  says,  n*^' 
that  fear  th^  Lord  praise  him;  all  ye  seed  of  JUcob  glorify  him'f^^ 
and  fear  him  alive  seed  of  Israel.     In  the  fonner  of  these  passagesi 
the  rsalmist  under  the  influence  of  inspiMtlon  teaches  us  that  the' 
Fear  of  God  is  prereminehtly  the  spirit  with  which  he  would  ch< 
to  prrfonn  his  worship  in  the  temple ;  and  the  spirit,  of  cov 
which  he  knew  would  render  that  worship  acceptable  to  G< 
In  the  latter  of  these  passages,  our  Savioui^  mentions  those,  who  *' 
fear  God,  as  the  proper  persons  to  be  employed  in  his  praiae ; 
and  teaches  us  therefore,  that  dus  is  the  spirit,  with  whicn  alone 
men  are  becomingly  occupied  in  this  solemn  and' delightful  act  of 
worship*    At  the  close  of  the  verse^  lie  exhibits  those,  who  fear 
God,  as  the  persons  who  glorify  him* 

A  [jrime  [Mtrt  of  the  character;  given  of  Joi,  is  that  he  feared 
God.     Perhap,  this  may  be  alleged  as  the  true  reason,  whv  his 
prayers  for  his  three  friends  were  accepted  on  their  behalf:  for 
we  find  him  immediately  before,  humbline  himself  in  the  presence 
of  God  with  expressions  of  the  most  profound  Reverence.     Cor- 
nelius^  also,  seems  to  have  had  his  prefers,  as  well  as  his  a/ihJr,  oc-,  ' 
cepted,  because  he  feared  Qod.  -  A  much  stronger  instance  than 
these ;  the  strongest  indeedj  which  can  be  supposed ;  is  riven  as 
in  Heb.  v.  7,  where  it  is  said  of  Christ,  Who  m  tht  days  of  nis  fleshy ' 
when  he  had  offered  vp  prayers  and  supplications^  with  strong  crying ^ 
and  tears  J  unto  him  that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death}  and  was 
heardj  in  that  he  feared.    If  this  translation*  of  the  passage  be  ad-. 
mitted,  as  the  natural  meaning  of  the  words  i*equureisj )  aha  as,  not- 
withstanding the  opinion  of  several -commentators,  seems  r6as6n« 
able ;  we  are  here  taught,  that  even  Chridt  himself,'  on  the  great 
occasion  referred  to,  was  heard  on  account  of  the  Reverence,  with 
which  his  supplications  were  presented.    Perhaps  this  extraordi-  . 
nary  declaration  was  made,  especially  to  teach  us,  that  Without  re- 
ligious Reverence  no  prayer  can  be  accepted  of  God ;  and  thus 
to  render  us  peculiarly  careful  not  to  approach  the  throne  of 
graee  without  emotions  m  a  high  degree  reverential.     '  ' 

I  will  only  add  to  these  observations  from  the^  Scriptures,  that  a 
great  part  of  the  worship,  transcribed  in  them  from  tne  mouths  of 
pious  men,  consists  in  reverential  sentiments  arid  expressions. 

What  the  Scriptures  thus  teach  is  perfectly  accordant  with  the 
dictates  of  our  Reason.    No  views^  no  emotioni^,  in  Us,  can,  be 
supposed  to  become  the  worship  of  God,  v^hich  are  not  either  di-   . 
rectiy  reverential^  or  such  as  flow  from  a  geli^rally  reverential  , 
state  of  mind.     If  we  remember  how  gr^at  a  Being  God  is ; '  that   ' 

he  is  Self-existent  and  Independent ;  that  her  Is  Abnighty  and  Om- 

niDresenf;  that  he  searches  the  hearts  and  tries  the  reins  ) '  that  heu  *  *] 
of  fmrer  tyes4km  to  behold  iniquUy: Md  ccifmof  todk  tAdnjinhm 


an.  xrni]  REVfciuufcx  of  qqd.      *  79 

Ud  with  abhorrence;  if  we  think,  at  the  same  time,  hoic  dependient 
wit  are  upon  him ;  how  little  we  are ;  how  ^ilty ;  how  ei posed 

rlSL^his  anger ;  how  imperfect  in  our  best  services ;  and  how.  unde- 
btfrving  of  anj  acceptance  :  if  we  remember,  that  he  is,  and  that 
Ikere  is  none  beside  him  /  and  that  not  only  ve,  but  all  nations  are  as* 
moikmg  before  him;  that  he  is  glorious  in  holiness^  Jtarfyl  m 
ftmses^  and  transcendently  awful  m  his  pmnty :  it  cannot  be  pos*- 
jAiat  for  lis  to  avoid  feeling,  that  no  thoughts,  afiections,  or  con-* 
^lAikt,  can  become  those  who  worship  him,  but  such  as  are  accom« 
paiued  by  solemn  awe,  and  profound  Reverence. for  his  perfect 
character ;  that,  as  his  name  u  Holy  and  Reverend^  so  his  worship . 
ahoy  Id  be  ever  celebrated  with  godly  Fear. 

9dly.  Religious  Reverence  is  peculiarly  the  means  of  exciting^ 
and  keeping  alive,  an  abhorrence  of  sin* 

The  Tear  of  the  Lord,  says  Solomonj  or  rather  Christ,  speaking  ' 
by  Solomon,  is  to  hate  evil;  Prov.  viii.  13  :  that  is,  it  is  a  part  of  > 
the  very  nature  of  religious  Reverence  to  hate  evil.  The  trans* 
gression  of  the  wicked  saith  in  my  heart,  there  is  no  fear  of  God 
before  his  eyes.  In  this  passage  the  Psalmist  declares,  that  the 
transgression  of  the  wicked  proved  to  his  satisfaction,  that  there  was 
no  fear  of  God  before  his  eyes.  Why  ?  Plainly,  because  the  wick- 
ed, if  he  feared  God,  woula  cease  to  transgress*  Of  Job  it  is  said. 
He  feared  God,  and  eschewed  evil.  In  this  passage  we  are  direct- 
ly taught,  that  he  eschewed  evil  because  he  feared  God.  After 
God  appeared  to  him  with  awful  ^lory  and  majesty,  his  views  of 
tU  hatenilness  and  vileness  of  his  sms  were  exceedingly  enhanced 
by  the  clear  apprehensions,  which  he  entertained  of  the  supreme 
neatness  and  excellency  of  his  Maker.  His  reverential  awe  of 
God  on  the  one  hand,  and  his  abhorrence  of  himself  and  his  sins 
on  the  other,  are  very  forcibly  exhibited  in  his  own  language.  Be*  -. 
hold  I  am  vile  ;  what  shall  I  answer  thee  ?  I  will  lay  my  hand  upon 
wy  mouih.  I  have  heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear ;  buH 
worn  mine  eye  seeth  thee,  nhertfore  I  abhor  myself,  and  repent  m 
iut  and  ashes. 

It  hardly  needs  to  be  observed,  that  nothing  can  impress  on  our 
minds  the  odiousness  of  sin  in  such  a  manner,  as  clear  and  affect- 
ing Tiews  of  the  Purity  of  Jehovah,  and  the  Reverence  for  him, 
with  which  these  views  are  attended ;  or,  in  better  lan^age,  of 
which  these  viewB  constitute  an  essential  part.    So  entirely  are 
mankind,  at  least  those  of  them  who  speak  our  language,  sensi- 
ble of  this ;  that,  in  judicial  processes  against  criminals,  the  law 
constantly  assigns  as  a  primary  cause  of  their  conunission  of 
crimes,  that  they  had  not  the  fear  of  God  before  their  eyes.^    This  is 
the  sSion^est  of  all  human  testimony,  that  the  Fear  of  God  is  the 
neai  and  controlling  cause  of  hating  and  abstaining  from  iniquity* 
Of  coarse, 
.    3dly*  Religious  Reverence  is  the  great  source  (^  Reformation,^ 


^ 


80  BBVERENCC  OF  GOD.  [SnLZCnL 

The  Ptar  of  the  Lord^  says  Soloinanj  is  to  hate  evU.  Prov.  viii» 
IS.     In  this  declaration  we  are  taught,  that  Rererence  to  God  » 
so  extensively  the  cause  of  departing  from  evil,  that  it  was  proper, '  ' 
in  the  view  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  to  declare  it  to  ber  the  sametm^';  »' 
with  departure  from  evil.    Substantially  in  the  same  manner  it^.  V 
this  trutn  exhibited  in  the  text ;  where  the  Fear  of  the  Lord  is  de-  . 
clak*ed  to  be  Wisdomy  and  depa^ifre  from  evil  Understanding.    By 
wisdom  and  understandings  nere,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,. 
the  same  thing  is  intended :  and  this,  in  the  former  part  of  the 
verse,  is  declared  to  be  the  Fear  of  the  Lord;  and  in  the  latter. 
Departure  from  evil.     Fear  the  Lord^  says  Solomon  to  his  Son, 
Prov.  iii.  7,  and  depart  from  evil.    And  again,  Prov.  xiv»  37,  T%€ 
Fear  of  the  Lord  is  a  fountain  of  life^  to' depart  from  the  snares  of 
death.    And  again,  in  language  somewhat  different,  Prov.xiii.  14, 
7%e  law  of  the  zoise  is  a  fountain  of  life^  to  depart  from  the  snares 
of  death.    Here  religious  Reverence,  styled  in  the  former  passage 
the  fear  of  the  Loral  and  in  the  latter  the  law  of  the  ivue,  is  oe- 
clared  to  be  a  fountain  of  life^  sending  forth  unceasing  streams,  of 
',  which  he  who  drinks,  .will  be  both  enabled,  and  inclined,  to  depart 
from  the  snares  of  death :  that  is,  from  sins,  which  are  fatal  snares 
to  all  who  practise  them. 

But  to  depart  from  evil  is,  necessarily,  to  do  gopd.  Moral  be- 
ings are  by  their  nature  always  employed  in  obedience,  or  disobe* 
dience.  He  therefore,  who  ceases  to  do  evilj  invariably  leartts  to 
do  well ;  is  invariably  employed  itl  the  great  business  of  reforming 
his  life,  and  endeavouring  to  glorify  his  Creator. 

'4thly.  Religious  Reverence  is  pecidiarlt/  the  source  of  rectitude  w 
our  dispositions  J  and  conduct^  towards  mankind. 

Th^re  was^  saith  our  Saviour,  in  a  certain  ct/y,  ajudge^  mho  ntt^ 
'\  'ther'fitfred  God,  nor  regarded  man.  This  account  of  the  ^ubfect 
*^*  IS  metaphysically,  and  universally,  just.  He,  who  does  not  fear 
God,  will  not  regard  man  in  any  such  manner,  as  reason  acknow- 
ledges to  consist  with  moral  rectitude,  and  as  all  men  declare  to  be 
d)ie  from  man  to  man.  He  may  indeed,  like  the  unjust  judge  in 
tm  parable,  for  the  sake  of  freeing  himself  from  importunity  and 
trouole,  for  the  sake  of  reputation,  convenience,  gain,  or  some 
other  selfish  object,  act  witn  propriety  in  his  external  conduct ; 
but  he  will  never  possess  any  real'  rectitude,  and  cannot  therefore 
act  under  its  influence. 

When  Jehoshaphat  set  Judges  in  l£e  land,  he  said  unto  them, 
Thke  heed  what  ye  do  :  for  ye  fudge  not  for  man^  but  for  the  Lordj 
who  is  with  you  in  tht  judgment.  Wherefore^  now,  let  the  Fear  of 
the  Lord  be  tmon  you  ;  fa£e  heed,  and  doit :  for  there  is  no  iniqidiy 
with  the  Lord  our  Ctod;  nor  respect  of  persons  ;  nor  taking  of  gifts. 
These  are  obviously  the  best  rules  ever  given  to  judicial  officers 
for  the  direction  of  their  moral  conduct ;  and  such  judees,  and 
such  rulers,  as  have  accorded  with  them,  have  nndouotealy  been 


■  * 


XCOL]  RKTBUENCB  W  GOD.  .     $1 

the  best,  when  prejudice  lias  not  operated  in  a  peculiar  manner^ 
which  the  world  nas  ever  seen.  In  all  these,  tne  Fear  of  Ood 
the  controlling  principle*  Concerning  those  rulers,  whose 
Rict  is  recorded  in  the  Scriptures,  the  subject  does  not  admit 

a  doubt :  for  the  divine  writers  have  marked  each  case  so  strong- 

as  to  put  it  Wholly  out  of  Question.    Concerning  such  men,  as 

•€«,  Samudj  Josim,  and  J^ekemUL  no  inan  is  at  a  loss.  There 
Jm  as  little  unceftamty  conbemin^  Alfred  the  Oreai,  Sir  MoUthew 
Bale,  aod  many  others,  in  later  tunes.  All  these,  and  all  other 
men  eta,  similar  character,  were  supremely  controUed  in  their  con- 
duct by  the  Fear  of  God ;  the  great  thing  insisted  on  by  JehothO' 
pkat  in  these  directions. 

Jfehemiak,  particularly,  informs  us  concerning  thb  subject,  as  it 
respected  himselC  The  former  Gavemarij  says  he,  who  nave  been 
be/ire  nu,  were  chargeable  unto  the  veople  :and  had  taken  ^  them 
bread  and  wine;  betidee  forty  shekels}  YeOj  even  their  ServamU 
bear  rule  over  the  people:  but  so  did  not  /,  becaiase  of  the  Fear  of 
Ood. 

Of  Hmaniahj  the  Ruler  of  the  Palace,  this  emmendy  worthy 
man  says,  chapter  vii.  3,  that  he  gave  him  charge  over  Jefuecdem, 
because  he  was  a  faithful  man,  ana  feared  God  above  many.     Of 
Cornelius  it  is  said,  he- feared  Ood,  and  gave  miuch  alms  to  thepeo- 
pie.     Of  Obadiah,  the  governor  of  Ahab^s  house,  it  is  declared, 
chat  he  feared  the  Lord  greatly  ;  and  thai,  he  had  thus  feared  him 
from  his  youth.    As  a  proof,  as  well  as  consequence,  of  this  spi- 
rit, we  are  informed,  that,  when  Jezebel  cut  off  the  prophets  of  tk$. 
Lord,  he  took  an  hundred  and  fifty  of  them,  and  hid  them  m  cavu  } 
where  he  kqft,  and  fed  them,  at  the  .daily  hazard  of  his  lifi^.  3f, 
St.  Paul,  reli^ous  Keverence  is  alleged  as  the  ground,  and  dreo* ' 
torv,  of  Christian  submission  to  lawful  authority,  E(iiu  t9*9irf~^ 
ina  by  Malachi,  cheipter  iii*  16,  as  the  cause  of  Christian  fel- 
lowship* 

Thus  we  find  this  spirit  extending  its  beni^  influence  to  the 
Tvious  branches  of  Christian  duty ;  and  provmff  a  peculiarly  eS^-,  • 
ficacious  cause  of  zeal,  and  exemplariness,  m  all  diose  parts  of  A  ' 
lehgious  life,  which  contribute,  immediately,  to  the  well-being  of 
oar  fellow-men. 

5thly.  Religious  Reverence  is  the  foundation  of  peculiar  Bless* 
tugs  to  the  present  world. 

The  secret  of  the  Lord,  says  the  Psalmist,  is  with  them  that  femr 
Urn.  Ps.  :cxv.  14.  He  hath  given  meat  to  them  that  fear  himm' 
Ps.  cxi.  5.  TTureis  no  want  to  them  that  fear  him.  Ps.  xzxiv.  9. 
Af  the  fear  of  the  Lord  are  riches  and  honour.  Prov  xxii.  4.  J%e 
angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth  about  them  that  fear  him.  Ps.  zzziv* 
7.  lie  will  fulfil  the  desire  of  them  that  fetffr  him.  Ps.  cxlv.  19« 
These  promises,  and  these  declarations,  furnish  complete  security 
to  those  who  fear  God,  that  they  shall  really  want  no  good  thing: 

Vol.  HI.  11 


r^ 


l,i^ 


33  REVERERCE  OF  OOD.  [3EB.  X 

Ihat  iheir  circumstances  shall  be  so  ordered,  as  that  all  Ikinga  shall 
tUK-k  Mgethtr  for  their  good.  They  may  indeed  be  troubled,  and 
pftseculed,  and  even  cut  off  by  a  violent  death.  But  these  evila 
will  take  place,  only  when  they  become  necessary ;  and  when 
they  themselves,  as  well  as  others,  will  become  more  happy,  in 
the  end,  by  means  of  them,  than  they  could  be  without  LQem. — ■ 
Ordinarily,  they  will  find,  in  limes  both  of  adversity  and  prosperi- 
.  ty,'  ways,  and  those  very  numerous,  in  which  God  vi\t  snow  nim- 
Veif  more  attentive  (o  their  real  good,  than  they  themselves  were ; 
artJ,  even  in  this  life,  will  often  see,  that  the  most  untoward 
events,  as  they  seemed  while  passing,  are  such  as  they  them- 
seives,  while  taking  a  retrospective  view,  would  choose  to  have 
had  bcfal  them.  At  the  same  time,  all  their  enjoyments  are 
hiMtirtgt;  and  not,  like  those  of  the  wicked,  enjoymtnta  mercltf. 
At' the  same  time  also,  while  the  sufferings  of  the  wicked  are  pun- 
iehments  dnd  curses,  the  afiLcUons  of  such  as  fear  God  are  only 
blessings  in  disguise. 
I  6thly,  Religious  Bevermet  U  especially  the  means  of  securing 
eternal  life. 

Swrel^,  saith  the  Psalmist,  his  salvation  is  nigh  lo  them  thai  fear 
hirm  Pa.  Izzzv.  9.  /  know,  saith  Solomon,  it  shall  be  welt  with 
them  that  fear  God,  which  fear  before  him.  But  it  shall  not  beaelt 
with  the  wicked,  because  hefearelh  not  btfan  God.  Eccles.  viii.  12, 
13.  And  again;  7%e  Fear  of  the  Lord  itndeth  to  life.  Prov.  lii. 
33.  And  again  ;  The  Fear  of  the  Lord  is  a  fountain  of  life  ;  and 
to  sum  up  all  in  a  single  declaration,  The  wicked  are  declared  by 
Christ  in  the  character  of  Wisdom,  Prov.  i.  29,  to  be  finally  given 
over  to  destruction  because  they  haled  knowledge,  and  did  not  choose 
the  /W  of  tht  Lord.  But  it  is  unnecessary  to  spend  time,  any 
finther,  in  illustraiing  a  doctrine,  which  necessanly  follows  froa 
■'     observations,  made  under  the  preceding  heads. 

REMARKS. 

From  these  observations  Glmstrans  are  taught,  fl 

Ist.  T7u  tvpreme  Importance  of  the  Fear  of  God.  "  | 

This  affection  is  indispensable  lo  the  acceptableness  of  thdr 
worship,  and  their  obedience ;  to  their  natred  of  sin  ;  their  safety 
in  temptation  ;  and  the  amendment  of  their  lives.  It  is  a  primary 
iftgredifent  of  their  piety.  It  is  the  well-spring  of  their  Dcnevo- 
lence,  justice,  faithfulness,  and  brotheriy  love ;  of  rectitude  ill 
thiftm,  when  rulers;  of  submission,  good  order, and  public  spirit, 
when  sirbjecta.  It  5s  indispensable  to  their  enjoyment  of  the  fa- 
vour of  God  in  this  life,  and  his  everlasting  kindness  in  the  life  to 
come.  Higher  motives  to  the  attainment  of  any  character  cannot 
be  alleged.  Let  every  Christian,  then,  cherish  and  cultivate  re- 
ligious Reverence  in  his  own  mind.  Let  him  often,  and  habitually, 
bring  before  his  eyes  the  awful  Being,  who  is  the  only  object  of 


SOL.  XCDL]  HEVEBENCE  OF  OOD.  S3 

this  affection,  and  whose  sole  prerogative  it  is  to  demand  it  of  his 
creaiures.  Lei  him  fasten  his  views  on  the  presence  and  great- 
ness, the  purity  and  glory,  of  Jehovah ;  and  solemnly  discern,  and 
confess,  tliat  he  himself  is  nolhing,  hit  than  nothing,  and  vanitu, 
la  the  incommunicable  splendour,  in  the  incomprehensible  majes- 
iy,j>f  tbe  Uncreated  Mind,  all  created  glory  is  lost  and  forgolteB* 
In  thc^cresence  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  every  star  hides 'its 
diminisoed  head.  Before  his  beams  the  lustre  of  angels,  and 
archangels,  fades  into  nothing.  In  the  presence  of  his  purity  t!u 
heaxeni  themselves,  spotless  as  they  are  to  a  created  eye,  art  tm- 
ciean.  Whal  then  w  man,  thai  God  should  be  mindpd  of  him; 
or  lAt  ton  of  man,  thai  he  should  visit  him?  What  indeed  are 
we ;  what  indeed  must  we  be ;  in  the  presence  of  such  a  being 
ai  this? 

Such  thoughts  as  these  ought  ever  to  be  present  in  the  mind* 
Whenever  it  turns  its  views  towards  the  Creator,  those  views 
ought,  from  motives  of  interest  and  duty  alike,  to  be,  invariably,  of 
the  BKist  reverential  kind.  They  most  become  the  character  of 
God;  an  eminently  pleasing  in  his  sight;  constitute  the  best  and 
happiest  &ame  of  mind ;  and  most  advantageously  influence  us  in 
all  oar  duly. 

3dly.  From  these  observations  it  is  clear,  that  habilaal  Bevifenet 
to  God  is  one  of  the  best  Evidences  oj"  Piety. 

After  what  has  been  said,  this  truth  needs  no  further  illustration. 
All  that  is  necessary  to  add  is,  that  we  are  bound  to  examine  our< 
idves  accordingly. 

3d]y.  ^s  Reverence  to  God  is  the  most  pmjitahle,  so  Irrtverenet 
ii  the  mosi  dangerous,  habit,  which  can  easily  be  conceived. 

As  I  shall  have  occasion  to  dwell  particularly  on  this  subject, 
when  1  come  lo  consider  the  third  command  in  the  decalogue;  I 
shall  not  dwell  upon  it  here.  It  is  sufficient  to  observe  at  iht 
present  time,  that  every  person,  who  is  the  subject  of  this  charac- 
ter, ought  to  tremble  at  the  danger,  to  which  he  is  daily  exposing 
Wseti.  There  is  no  manner,  in  which  he  can  more  effectually 
budea  his  own  heart,  or  provoke  the  anger  of  God. 

4tUy.  He,  who  does  not  reverence  God  liabitualli/,  is  here  tavght. 
Am  Ac  u  wholly  destitide  of  religion. 

There  is  a  state  of  mind,  in  such  persons  especially  as  have 
been  taught  to  fear  God  from  the  morning  of  life,  and  have  retain- 
ed a  strong  mflueace  of  these  impressions,  which  it  is  often  difficult 
to  distinguish  from  evangelical  Reverence.  Bnt  there  is  also  a 
»lBie  of  mind  very  extensively  existing,  which  is  wholly  destitute 
<^  this  attribute,  and  which,  if  examined  with  an  ordinary  degree  of 
hooesty  and  candour,  may  be  easily  discerned.  No  infidel,  no 
{vo&oe  person,  no  mere  sensualist,  or  worldling,  needs  to  hesi- 
tate, for  anK»ncnt,io  determining  that  he  is  destitute  of  Reverence 
to  God,  and  consequently  of  Religion.     Of  course,  he  ought  to 


1 


94  KETERETtCE  OF  GOD.  [SXB.  XCIIL 

regard  himself  as  plainly  an  object  of  divine  wrath  ;  and,  so  far  as 
he  has  bilherto  lived,  an  acknowledged  heir  of  perdition.  Thtftar 
ofQod  U  a  fountain  of  lift.  Irreverence  to  him  is  a  well-spring 
of  everlasting  death.  Let  every  irreverent  man  remember  there- 
fore, that,  to  such  as  he  is,  God  is  a  consuming  fire, 

I  have  dwelt  more  minutely  and  extensively  on  this  great  sub- 
ject of  Religion,  because  of  its  inherent  importance,  and  oecause  it 
It,  I  think  tmhappily,  a  rare  topic  of  discussion  from  the  desk. 


SERMON  XCIV. 

THl    LAV/   OF    GOD. THS    riHST    AND    QKEAT    COHHANDHeMT. 


IN  the  precedhig  discourse  I  considered,  at  some  length,  that 
exercise  of  love  to  God  which  is  styled  Rtverenct.  I  will  now 
proceed  to  examine  the  kindred  virtue  of  Hvmiiit^,  an  attribute 
which  seems  to  ciiifer  from  Reverence  not  so  much  in  its  nature  as 
in  its  object.  God  is  the  object  of  levereDcej  ourselves,  of  hu- 
mility. The  state  of  the  mind  in  the  exercise  of  these  Christian 
paces  seems  to  be  the  same.  It  is  hardly  possible  that  he,  who 
IS  now  employed  in  reverencing  his  Maker,  when  casting  his  eye 
towards  himself,  should  fail  of  being  deeply  humbled  by  a  view  cf 
his  own  circumstances  and  character. 

Before  I  enter  upon  this  examination,  however,  it  will  be  proper 
to  observe,  that  there  are  other  modes  in  which  love  to  Goa  is 
exerted ;  and  which,  although  not  demanding  a  particular  discus- 
sion here,  are  yet  of  high  imponance,  and  well  deserve  lo  be 
meniioncd.  They  deserve  to  be  mentioned  because  of  their  im- 
portance. The  reasons  why  ihey  do  not  claim  a  particular  dis- 
cussion are,  that  more  time  would  be  demanded  by  it,  than  can 
well  be  spared  from  the  examination  of  such  subjects  as  require 
a  more  minute  attention ;  and  that  they  may  be  sufficiently  under- 
stood from  the  observations  made  on  the  other  exercises  of  piciy. 
Among  these,  the  first  place  is  naturally  due  to  Admiration.  By 
this  I  mean  Iht  train  of  tmotions,  excited  in  a  gnod  mind  by  tht  won- 
derfal  nature  of  ike  various  viorks  of  God,  and  the  amazing  powtr, 
ana  ikill,  and  goodness,  which  thty  unfold.  God,  saith  Eliphaz, 
Jobv.  9,  (folA  great  things  and  unsearchable;  marvellous  things 
mUhoul  number.  These  things,  we  find  good  men,  distinguished 
in  the  Scriptures  for  their  piety,  observing,  and  commemorating, 
with  a  transport  of  Admiration.  Oh  sing  unto  the  Lord,  says  Da- 
vid, for  he  hath  done  marvellous  things.  I  aill  shew  forth  ail  Ihv 
marvellous  works.  Surety  I  will  remember  thy  viondeta  of  old. 
Boa  great  art  kis  signs,  says  Xebuchadnez^ar,  speaking  at  least 
the  language  of  a  good  man,  how  migkly  are  his  wonders!  What 
they  /ell,  they  called  upon  others  to  feel.  Remember,  says  David, 
Au  marvtUout  works  that  he  hath  done  ;  his  wonders,  and  the  judg- 
mtnttof  his  mouth.   I  Cbron.  xvi.  IS.     Declare  his  glory  among 


86  HuioLirfi  [smxcnr. 

the  heathen;  hit  wonders  among  the  peonle.  Ps.  XCTI.  3.  Oh  giv€ 
thanks  to  the  Lord  of  lords^  who  alone  doeth  great  wonders  ;  .for  his 
mercy  endurethfor  ever. 

Aamiration  is  a  combined  exercise  of  the  mind;  and  is  formed  of 
wonder  and  complacency.  It  is  an  exercise  eminently  aeligfatfiil ; 
and  is  every  where  presented  with  objects  to  awaken  it.  Both 
Creation  and  Providence  are  full  of  wonders,  presented  to  U8  at 
every  moment,  and  at  every  step.  Every  attribute  of  God  is  fitted 
to  excite  this  emotion  by  the  amazing  degree  in  which  it  exists ; 
tmd  by  the  degree  also,  m  which  it  is  very  often  displayed.  Thus 
the  Psalmist  speaks  of  the  marvellous  loving^kindness  of  God;  St. 
Peter^  of  his  marvellous  light.  KingDarius  says,  He  worketh  signs 
and  wonders  m  heaven  and  earth.  Thus  Dav/asays,  IwiUpfaise 
thee;  for  I  am  fearfully  and  wondetfully  made.  Thus  one  of  the 
Names  of  Christ,  whose  Redemption  is  the  most  marvellous  of  all 
tfie  works  of  God,  is  Wonderful. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  Religious  Admiration  is  entirely  distin- 
gtiished  from  wonder  in  the  ordinary  sense^  by  its  union  with  eon^kh 
esncy.  Ordinary  wonder  is  delightful,  but  is  totally  destitute  of 
nloral  excellence*  Religious  wonder  is  still  more  delightful.;  and 
Iftav  be  excellent  in  any  degree. 

secondly.  Dependence  is  also  an  exercise  of  the  same  sjurit. 
That  we  are  all  dependent  on  God  is  known  to  every  peraoiiy 
Possessed  of  reason ;  and  that  we  are  absolutely  dependent  on 
mtn  for  every  thing  which  we  enjoy,  or  which  we  neea.  A  WU' 
hngness  to  be  thus  dependent^  a  complacency  in  this  state  of  thisigs 
as  appointed  by  Oodj  accompanied  with  that  humble  frame  ofmrndj 
necessarily  attendarU  tpon  these  affections j  constitute  what  is  catted 
Religious  Dependence^  a  state  oi  mind,  exactly  suited  to  our  con- 
dition, and  eminently  useful  to  our  whole  Christian  character  and 
Hfe. 

To  these  may  be  added  Faiih^  Hopcj  and  Joy,  which  have  already 
been  subjects  of  discussion ;  and  to  these,  Submission^  which  wi6 
be  made  the  theme  of  a  future  discourse. 

The  text  contains  a  command,  addressed  to  all  those  to  irfiom 
St.  Peter  wrote,  requiring  that  they  should  be  clothed  with  humili- 
ty; and  enforces  the  precept  by  this  combined  reason,  that  CM 
resisteth  the  proud  and  giveth  grace  to  the  humble.  No  {>recept  of 
Revelation  nas  been  more  disrelished  by  infidels  than  this*  &sne 
attacks  it  in  form,  and  considers  the  disposition  enjoined  aa  bodi 
ticidus  and  contemptible.  Still  it  is  lai^ely  insisted  on  in  the 
Scriptures,  and  is  required  of  us  unconditionally  and  indSspensa- 
bly.  It  is  declared  to  precede  all  real  honour,  and  thus  to  oe  ne- 
tesary  even  to  its  existence.  It  is  pronounced  to  have  been  an 
ittiportaht  attribute  in  the  character  of  Christ  himself^  Learn  ^^ 
.^  says  the  Saviour  of  mankind, /or/ ammeefc  ami  iowly  qfhean. 
hi  the  text  itself  it  is  plainly  asserted  to  be  an  object  of  Divine 
fitvour  in  such  a  sense,  that  tne  grace  or  free  love  of  God  is  cdii* 


•* 


i 


mmicated  to  those  who  are  humble,  and  denied  to  those  who  are 
DoL  In  the  Scriptural  scheme,  therefore,  humility  is  invested  with 
an  unportance  wnich  cannot  be  measured. 

Il  must  indeed  be  confessed  that  nothing  is  more  unaccordant 
with  the  native  disjtosition  of  mankind.  Pride,  the  first  sin  of  our 
cttnmoQ  parents,  has  characterized  all  their  posterity.  It  is  not, 
Acrefinre,  to  be  wondered  at,  that  Humility  should  be  disesteemed 
9md  calumniated.  If  it  were  of  the  wwldj  the  world  wovld  undoubt- 
edly Unt  his  own}  out  because  it  is  not  of  the  worlds  therefore  the 
world  haitih  iu 

Of  this  attribute  of  the  human  mind,  as  it  is  exhibited  in  the 
SciipCnres,  I  observe, 

IsL  It  involves^  in  Us  nature^  a  just  sense  of  our  character  and 
mmditiamm 

We  were  bom  yesterdajr  of  the  dust,  and  to-morrow  return  to 
die  dust  again.  In  our  origin,  and  in  our  end,  there  is  certainly 
Ettle  to  awaken  our  pride.  In  both,  we  are  closely  allied  to  the 
beasts  that  Parish;  and  may  with  the  strictest  propriety,  st^  to 
compHon^  T%ou  art  our  father;  and  to  the  worm^  Jliou  art  our 
moihtr  and  our  sister.  How  stranee  is  it  that  a  bein^  should  be 
proud,  who  is  going  to  the  grave ;  wno  in  a  few  days  will  lie  down 
in  the  dust,  to  oecome  a  feast  of  worms,  and.  to  be  changed  into  a 
massof  earth!  Such  however  will  speedily  be  the  lot  of  the  haughd* 
est  monarch,  the  most  renowned  hero,  and  the  proudest  philosopher 
who  now  says  in  his  heart,  I  will  ascend  tp  to  heavenjfwill  be  lik$ 
iksMosiE^h. 

g  this  little  period,  we  are  dq^endent  creatures.  Nothing 
coveted,  nottung  more  eagerly  sought,  nothing  boasted  m 
wkk  more  complacency,  by  the  children  of  pride,  than  Indepen- 
dence. But  the  boast  is  groundless ;  and  the  opinion,  which  gives 
hMi  to  it,  &lse.  WTiat  hast  thou,  says  St.  Paul,  which  thou  hast 
mi  rteeioedf  From  God  we  derive  life  and  breath,  and  all  things. 
AD  of  them  are  mere  gifts  of  his  bounty ;  and  to  the  least  of 
thea  we  cannot  make  a  single  claim.  To  his  sovereign  pleas- 
ure, also,  are  we  every  moment  indebted  for  their  continuance. 
That  which  He  gives,  we  gather.  He  opens  his  hand,  and  we  are 
filed  with  good.  He  takes  away  our  breath ;  we  die  and  return 
tndnst. 
But  we  are  not  dependent  on  God  only.    To  a  vast  extent  we 

necessarily  indebted,  for  a  great  bouy  of  our  enjoyments,  to 

feUow«men.  We  can  have  neither  food  nor  raiment:  we  can 
nsilher  walk  nor  ride;  we  can  have  neither  sleep  nor  medicine; 
WB  can  neither  enjoy  ourselves,  nor  be  useful  to  others  without  the 
aid  of  multitudes  of  our  fellow-men.  Especially  is  the  pro^ 
■an  thus  dependent.  Life  to  him  is  only  a  scene  of  sufiering, 
tmitsn  he  is  continually  regaled  by  the  red!  or  imagined  respect 
oC  ihoM  around  him.    £&mage  is  the  food  on  wnich  he  lives* 


'r . 


88  HUBIILITT. 

and  appkt(se,    the  atmosphere  in  which  alone  he  is  able  to 
breathe. 

Among  those  on  whom  we  are  thus  dependent  sometimes  for 
life  itself  and  always  for  its  comforts,  are  to  be  regularly  number- 
ed the  poor,  whom  we  are  so  prone  to  despise ;  nay,  the  slaves 
whom  we  regard  As  having  been  created  merely  as  instruments  of 
our  pleasure.  To  what  a  lowly  condition  is  a  haughty  man  thus 
duced,  and  how  dilfcrent  his  actual  situation  from  that  which 
conversation  and  demeanour  would  induce  us  to  imagine ! 

Nor  is  our  situation  less  precarious  than  it  is  dependent.  The 
possessions,  the  comforts,  the  hopes,  which  we  enjoy  to-day,  may 
all  to-morrow  vanish  for  ever.  Our  riches  may  make  to  them- 
selves wings  as  an  eagle,  and  fly  away  towards  heaven.  Our  health 
may  be  wrested  from  us  by  disease,  and  our  comibrt  by  pain.  We 
may  become  decrepit,,  deaf,  or  blind.  Our  friends  and  fiBimilies 
may  bid  us  the  last  adieu,  and  retire  to  the  world  of  spirits.  Nay, 
ourselves  and  our  pride  may  be  buried  together  in  the  p^t^e.  What 
foundation  does  such  a  state  of  existence  furnish  on  which  to  build 
our  pride  ? 

We  are  also  ignorant.  Mw^h  indeed  is  said  of  our  learning  and 
science.  It  would  be  well  if  r.r  -  could  be  said,  and  said  with  truth 
concerning  our  wisdom.  Vvihall  our  boasts,,  how  little  do  we 
know !  How  many  objects  are  presented  to  us  every  day  of  which 
we  know  nothing  except  their  existence  !  How  many  questions  do 
even  little  children  ask,  which  no  philosopher  is  able  to  answer ! 
How  m^ny  subjects  of  investigation  say  to  every  inquirer^  "  Hith* 
erto  shalt  thoucomf,  but  no  further!" 

Every  thing  which  we  know  bnngs  up  to  our  view  the  many  nM»e 
which  we  cannot  know;  and  thus  daily  forces  upon  us,  if  welfe^  , 
open  our  eyes,  irresistible  conviction*  of  the  narrowness  of 
limits  by  which  our  utmost  researches  are  bounded,  of  the  ii  ^ 
nature  of  our  actual  attainments,  of  the  smallness  of  those 
are.  possible. 

Amone  the  subjects  which  display  this  ignorance  in  the  strongest 
degree,  tnose  of  a  moral  nature,  those  which  immediately  concern 
our  duty  and  salvation,  infinitely  more  important  to  us  than  any 
others,  nold  the  primary  place.     What  man  is  able  to  find  out  of 
himself  concerning  these,  we  know  by  what  he  has  actually  found 
out.     Cast  your  eyes  over  this  great  globe,  and  over  the  past  ages 
of  time,  and  mark  the  nature  of  the  religious  systems  invented 
by  man.     How  childish,  how  senseless,  now  self-contradictory, 
have  been  the  opinions ;  how  infatuated,  how  sottish,  the  precepts 
by  which  they  have  professedly  regulated  the  moral  conduct  of 
men ;  how  debased,  how  full  of  turpitude,  how  fraught  with  firenzyi 
the  religious  services  by  which  they  have  laboured  to  propitiate 
their  Gods,  and  obtain  a  future  happy  existence;  nay,  what  mere 
creatures  of  Bedlam  were  the  Gods  themselves,  and  their  delirious 
worshippers ' 


xcnr.]  bumhiit.  3^ 

But  for  the  Scriptures,  we  should  now  have  the  same  views,  which 
have  been  spread  over  the  whole  heathen  world ;  and  might  this 
day  have  been  prostrating  ourselves  before  stocks  and  stones,  and 
looking  to  drunkenness,  prostitution,  and  the  butchery  of  human 
victim3  as  the  means  of  obtainiiig  a  happy  immortality.  How  in- 
expressibly deplorable  is  this  ignorance!  How  humble  the 
character  of  those  of  whom   it  can  be  truly  predicated ! 

Far  our  exemption  from  all  these  errors,  wt^Bte  indebted  solely 
to  the  Bible.  But  with  this  invaluable  hipk  in  our  hands  we  re* 
luctantly  admit,  in  vo^ny  cases,  even  its  fundamental  truths :  truths 
of  su{»eme  importance  to  the  establishment  of  virtue  in  our  minds, 
and  to  the  acquisition  of  eternal  life  beyond  the  ^ve :  truths 
which  are  the  glorv  of  the  Revealed  System,  and  which  have  been 
the  means  of  conducting  to  heaven  a  multitude  which  no  man  can 
number.  In  the  place  of  these,  what  absurdities  have  not  been 
hnbibed !  absurdities  immeasurably  disgraceful  to  the  understand* 
mg,  and  absolutely  ruinous  to  the  soul.  How  long  these  absurdi- 
ties have  reigned  !  How*  widelv  they  have  spread !  What 
innumerable  mischiefe  they  have  done !  How  strongly  they  dis- 
cover  a  violent  tendency  in  our  nature  to  reject  truth  and  welcome 
error !  Who  with  this  picture  before  him  can  doubt  that  on  this 
account  we  have  abundant  reason  for  humility  ? 

In  addition  to  these  things,  we  are  sinful  creatures.  7%e  hearty 
says  the  Prophet  Jeremiah,  is  deceitful  above  all  things j  and  des* 
peraiely  wicked.  He  who  reads  the  three  first,  chapters  of  the 
jSpistle  to  the  Romans,  or  peruses  the  history  of  mankind,  or  at- 
tentively considers  the  conauct  ofhimself  ana  his  fellow-men,  will 
vidMHit  much  hesitation  adopt  the  decision  of  the  Prophet.  It  is 
■awjjijerful  that  sinful  beings  should  be  proud  of  their -character; 

Wicmarkable  that  pride  is  indulged  by  no  other  beings.  Of 
^  -shall  we  be  proud  ?  In  our  conversation  and  in  our  writings 
iS^-Aum  each  otner  endlessly  with  impiety,  profaneness,  perju- 
jj^  irreEeion,  injustice,  fraud,  falsehood,  slander,  oppression, 
cruelty,  &eft,  lewdness,  sloth,  gluttony,  and  drunkenness.  The 
charges  are  either  true  or  felse.  If  they  are  false,  they  are  in 
themselves  abominable  wickedness.  If  Uiey  are  true,  those  on 
whom  they  rest  are  abominably  wicked.  WImt  an  unhappy  foun- 
da&m  is  here  furnished  for  pride ! 

If  we  look  into  our  own  hearts,  and  into  our  own  lives,  and 
perform  this  duty  faithfully,  we  shall  find  ample  reason  fw  sel^ 
coniemnation ;  we  shall  see  that  our  own  hearts,  at  least,  answer 
to  the  declaration  of  Jeremiah ;  we  shall  see  ourselves  alienated 
6sfa.God,  revolted  firom  his  government,  opposed  to  his  law,  un- 
yHJTflil  for  his  blessings,  distrustful  of  his  sincerity,  and  discoo* 
tented  wkh  his  administradons.  With  all  these  sins  before  us,  we 
iball  fipd  ourselves  slow  of  heart  to  believe  or  repent. 

God  has  provided  for  us,  and  profiered  to  us,  deliverance  firooi 
oar  sins,  and  from  the  punishment  which  they  have  merited.    He 

Vou  in.  la 


4  90  HUMiLrnr.  [SEitxciv. 

has  sent  a  Saviour  into  the  world  to  redeem  us  from  under  the 
curse  of  the  law,  and  that  by  the  effusion  of  his  own  blood  5  but 
we  reject  him.  He  has  sent  his  Spirit  to  sanctify  us,  and  to  make 
us  his  children ;  but  we  resist  his  influence*  He  has  offered  to  be 
reconciled  to  us :  but  we  refuse  to  be  reconciled  to  him.  We  might 
be  virtuous,  we  might  be  happy ;  but  we  will  not.  What  causes 
for  humiliation  are  here  presented  to  oui:  view ! 

Finally.  We  are  miserable  creatures.  In  the  present  world  we 
are,  to  a  great  extent,  unhappy.  Cold  and  heat,  hunger  and 
thirst,  anxiety,  disappointment,  toil,  poverty,  loss  of  friends,  dis- 
grace^ sorrow,  pain,  disease,  and  aeath,  divide  among  them  a 
great  part  of  our  days,  and  leave  us  scarcely  more  than  a  few 
transient  gleams  of  ease,  comfort  and  hope..  How  often  are  most 
of  these  evils  doubled  and  tripled  by  similar  sufferings  of  such  as 
are  dear  to  us  in  the  bonds  of  nature  and  affection!  How  truly  does 
Job  declare  that  Man,  who  is  bom  of  a  vjoman^  is  of  few  days^  and 
full  of  trouble! 

From  these  calamities  our  only  way  of  escape  conducts  us  to 
the  ^ve.  Beyond  that  dreary  mansion  stands  the  last  tribunal, 
at  which  our  eternal  doom  will  be  iiTeversibly  fixed.  But  the 
only  reward  of  sin  is  perdition,  perdition  final  and  irremediable. 
This  is  the  deplorable  end  of  the  sins  and  miseries,  which  so  ex- 
tensively constitute  our  character  and  our  allotments  in  the  present 
world. 

Look  now  at  the  description  which  has  been  given,  and  tell  me 
for  which  of  these  things  we  shall  be  proud.  Is  it  our  origin,  pur 
dependence,  the  precariousness  of  our  life  and  its  enjojrments,  our 
ignorance,  our  errors,  our  sins,  or  our  miseries? 

In  the  mean  time,  let  it  be  remembered,  that  this  Tery  pride  is 
one  of  our  grossest  sins ;  whether  It  be  pride  of  birth,  of  wealth,  of 
beauty,  of  talents,  of  .accomplishments,  of  exploits,  of  place,  of 
power,  or  of  moral  character.  A  proud  look,  fi-om  whatsoever 
source  derived,  is  an  abomination  to  the  Lord,  Angels  by  their 
pride  lost  heaven.  Our  first  parents  by  their  pride  ruined  the 
world.  ,^ 

That  the  view  which  fes  been  here  given  of  the  state  and  char- 
acter of  man  is  just,  will  not,  because  it  cannot,  be  questioned. 
Conformed  to  it  are  all  the  views  entertained  of  the  same  subjects 
by  every  man  possessing  the  humility  of  the  Gospel.  On  these 
very  considerations,  especially  as  applied  to  himself,  is  his  humility 
founded. 

2dly.  Humility  involves  a  train  of  affections  accordant  with  such 
a  sense  of  our  character  and  conditions4 

It  mvolves  that  candour  and  equity,  which  dispose  us  to  receive 
and  acknowledge  truth,  however  numbling  to  our  pride,  or  painfiil 
to  our  fears,  in  preference  to  error,  however  soothing  or  flattering. 
Tlie  humble  man  feels  assured,  also,  that  it  is  his  true  interest  to 
koow  and  feel  the  worst  of  his  situation ;  that  a  just  sense  of  his 


8ER.  xcnr.]  humujtt.  91 

condllion  may  be  thfe  means  of  rendering  it  more  hopeful  and  more  * 
desirable;  that  false  conceptions  of  it,  on  the  contrary,  cannot  pos- 
sibly do  him  any  good,  and  will  in  all  probability  do  him  much 
harm ;  that  truth  is  a  highway,  which  may  conduct  him  to  heaven  5 
but  that  error  is  a  labyrinth  in  which  he  may  be  lost  for  ever, 

Etjually  disposed  is  he  to  do  justice  to  the  several  subjects  of  his 
contemplation.  Cheerfully  is  he  ready  to  feel  and  to  acKnowIedge 
that  he  is  Just  such  a  being  as  he  actually  is  ;  that  he  is  no  wiser, 
no  better,  no  more  honourable,  and  no  more  safe,  but  just  as  lowly, 
as"  dependent,  as  ignorant,  as  guilty,  and  as  much  in  danger,  as 
truth  pronounces  him  to  be.  With  the  humiliation,  dependence, 
and  prccariousness  of  his  circumstances  he  is  satisfied,  because 
they  ai*e  ordained  by  his  Maker.  His  guilt  he  acknowledges  to  be 
real ;  and,  at  the  sight  of  it,  willingly  takes  his  place  in  the  dust. 
His  sufferings  he  confesses  to  be  merited,  and  therefore  bows  sub- 
missively beneath  the  rod.  Claims  he  makes  none,  for  he  feels 
that  there  is  nothing  in  himself  to  warrant  them ;  and,  although  he 
wishes  ardently  to  escape  from  his  sin  and  misery,  he  never  thinks 
of  demanding  it  as  a  right ;  but,  so  far*as  he  is  permitted,  humbly 
hopes  it  as  a  gift  of  free  ^race,  as  a  mere  blessing  derived  from 
the  overflowing  mercy  of  nis  Creator. 

Among  the  subjects  which  his  sitiiation  forces  upon  his  mind, 
the  means  of  expiating  his  guilt  become  one  of  primary  impor- 
tance. Afler  surveying  it  on  every  side,  he  pronounces  the  at- 
tempt hopeless ;  ana  sees  with  full  conviction,  that,  if  God  should 
mark  iniquity,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  stand.  In  this 
melancholy  situation  he  does  not,  like  the  man  *cff  the  world,  rise 
up  in  haughty  rebellion  against  God  ;  he  does  not  say.  Who  is  the 
Almighty >i  that  I  should  serve  him  ;  and  what  profit  shall  Ihave^  if 
I  pray  imto  him?  He  does  not  insolently  exclaim.  Why  doth  he 
yetjind  fault,  for  who  hath  resisted  his  will  ?  On  the  contrary,  in 
the  language  of  Job,  he  modestly  cries  out.  Behold  I  am  vile,  what 
thall  I  answer  thee  ?  I  will  lay  my  hand  upon  my  mouth.  I  abhor 
myself  and  repent  in  dust  ana  ashes.  With  Daniel  he  sets  his 
&ce  unto  the  LtQfd  God,  to  seek  by  prayer  and  supplications,  with 
bstjngs,  and  sackcloth,  and  ashes  ;  and  he  prays  unto  the  Lord 
Us  God,  and  makes  his  confession,  and  says,  O  Lord,  the  great 
<mi  dreadful  God!  keeping  the  covenant  and  mercy  to  them  that 
love  thee,  I  have  sinned,  ana  have  committed  iniquity,  and  have  done 
wickedly,  and  have  rebelled  by  departing  from  thy  precepts  and 
from  thy  judgments. 

But,  although  in  himself  he  sees  no  means  of  deliverance  or  es-  • 
cape,  he  finds  in  the  Scriptures  of  truth,  ample  provision  made  for  * 
both.  The  provision  is  complete.  An  expiation  is  there  made 
for  the  sins  of  men  ;  and  a  deliverance  fix)m  the  miseries,  to  which 
they  were  destined,  effectuated ;  which  involve  all  that  the  most 
sanguine  mind  can  wish  concerning  both.  Still,  the  scheme  in- 
Tolves  an  absoliate  humilidtion  of  human  pride ;  for  it  represents 


If  Humurr.  pxB.  lor. 

i^an  as  totally  destitute  of  any  thing  in  his  native  character,  or  in 
b»  efforts,  which  can  recommend  him  to  God,  or  which  can  be  re- 
f;arded  by  the  £nal  Judge  as  any  ground  of  his  justification.  It 
18  a  scheme  of  mere  mercy ;  and  every  one,  who  is  to  receive  the 
bkssin^s  of  it,  must  come  in  the  character  of  a  penitent,  suppli« 
caling  tor  pardon  through  the  righteousness  of  a  Redeemer. 

Nothing  can  be  more  painful  to  pride  than  this  scheme  of  de» 
liverance ;  but  nothing  can  be  more  welcome  to  the  heiK  of  gen- 
uine humility.  God  in  the  great  work  of  forgiving,  redeeming, 
and  sanctifying  man,  appears  to  the  humble  penitential  mind,  in- 
Yested  with  peculiar  glory,  excellence,  and  loveliness.  6oi{,  says 
SL  Paul,  who  commanded  the  light  to  shine  out  ofdarhuiSj  hath 
$himd  into  our  heartSy  to  me  us  <Ae  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the 
glory  ofChdy  in  the  face  oj  Jesus  Christ.  In  the  work  of  Redemp- 
tion, accomplished  by  this  Divine  person,  the  character  of  God  is 
^  aeen  by  the  sanctified  mind  in  a  light  entirely  new,  and  more 
honourable  to  him  than  that  which  is  presented  bv  any  other 
vork  either  of  Creation  or  Providence.  His  benevolence  shines, 
here,  in  the  exercise  of  nprcy  towards  the  apostate  children  of 
■ten,  in  a  manner  which  it  jEiew  and  singular,  a  manner  in  which 
it  has  been  displayed  to  the  inhabitants  of  no  other  part  of  the 
Universe.  Here,  especially,  it  is  discerned  that  God  is  Love ; 
and  the  humble  penitent  is  so  deeply  affected  with  the  kindness 
manifested  in  expiating  and  forgiving  sin,  and  renewing  the  soul, 
./^  lEiil  he  is  ready  to  exclaim  with  the  rsalmist,  Mot  unto  me,  0  Lordj 
'  •.  mofwUo  me,  but  to  thy  name  give  glory  j  for  thy  mercy  ^  and  for  thy 
irutK^s  sake.  Ii\  the  midst  of  his  astonishment  that  such  mercy 
should  be  extended  to  him,  a  poor,  guiltv,  miserable  wretch,  un- 
worthy in  his  own  view  of  the  least  of  air  mercies,  the  pride  even 
of  self-righteousness  is  for  a  while  at  least  laid  asleep ;  and  his 
thoughts  and  affections,  instead  of  being  turned  towards  himself 
are  absorbed  in  the  condescension  ana  goodness  of  his  Father, 
Redeemer,  and  Sanctifier. 

It  is  impossible  for  the  man,  in  whom  this  attribute  is  found,  not 
io  turn  his  thoughts  from  time  to  time  to  the  perfect  purity  of  God. 
No  subject  of  contemplation  can  more  strongly  impress  upon  the 
woind  a  sense  of  its  own  impurity.  In  his  sight  the  heavens  them- 
aelves  are  not  clean,  and  tne  angels  before  nim  are  charged  wich 
fidly.  How  much  more  abominable  and  filthy  to  the  eye  of  the 
{MDitent  JAUst  pan  appeai:,  who  drinketh  iniquity  like  water !  In 
the  sight  of  Uiis  awful  and  most  affecting  object,  he  will  ahnost 
•  MCQjisanJy  exclaim,  with  /oi,  /  have  heard  of  thee  ly  the  heiuring 
$ftkfi  iflr^  bui  n4m  mine  eye  seeih  thte  !  Wherefore  I  abhor  myseff^ 
md  repenf'in  dust  and  asnes. 

When  sttch  a  man  contemplates  the  character  of  his  Christiaa 
keitfuren,  €«noCions  of  the  same  general  nature  will  necessarily  oc- 
•cnpy  his-i^iBd.  St.  Paul  has  directed.'  Christians  to  forbear  one  on- 
jmormM  UmUness  asid  m^^denen  ofmifidfOnd  to  esietm  oikon  ifjh 


.]  HUBOLRT.  93 

t€r  than  themselves.     This  precept,  which  to  a  man  of  the  world 
appears  absurd  and  incapsuble  of  being  obeyed,  involves  no  diffi- 
culty in  the  eye  of  him  who  is  evangelically  humble.     The  sins  of 
other  Christians  are  of  course,  imperfectly  known  to  him.    Their 
sins  of  thought  are  all  hidden  from  his  eyes  :  their  sins  of  action  he 
rarely  witnesses ;  and  of  those,  which  are  perpetrated  in  his  pres* 
cnce,  he  cannot  know  either  the  extent,  or  malignity,    iiis  own 
sins,  in  the  mean  time,  both  of  heart  and  of  life,  are  m  a  sense  always 
naked  before  him ;  and  he  can  hardly  fail  to  discern,  in  some  eood 
degree,  their  number,  their  aggravations,  and  their  guilt.     Hence 
other  Christians  will,  in  a  comparative  sense,  appear  to  hiln  to  be 
clean ;  while  himself  will  seem  unsound  and  polluted,  from  the 
crown  of  the  head  to  the  sole  of  the  foot.     In  this*  situation,  the 
difficulty  of  esteeming  others  better  than  himself  vanishes.  Impo8« 
sible  as  it  would  be  for  a  proud  man  to  think  in  this  manner ;  die 
only  difficulty  to  the  humble  man  is  to  think  in  any  other. 

ouch  at  all  times,  with  the  exceptions  for  which  the  human  char* 
acter  always  lays  the  foundation,  will  be  the  emotions  naturally 
imbibed  and  strongly  cherished  by  Chriidan  humility.     But  there 
are  certain  seasons,  in  which  they  will  be  excited  in  a  peculiar  de- 
erec.    Such  will  be  the  case  in  the  house  of  God.     Here  he  is 
brought  immediately  into  the  presence  of  his  Maker ;  here  he  ap- 
pears in  the  character  of  a  sinner  and  of  a  suppliant  for  mercy ; 
W  he  draws  nigh  to  his  Maker  in  the  solemn  ordinances  of  the 
Sanctuary ;  here  the  character  and  sufferings  of  the  Redeemer 
are  set  before  him  in  the  light  of  heaven  ;  here  he  witnesses  all  the 
wonders  of  redeeming,  forgiving,  and  sanctifying  love.   What  God 
is,  and  what  he  himself  is,  what  ne  has  done  to  destroy  himself,  and 
what  God  has  done  to  save  him  from  destruction,  are  here  present- 
^  to  his  eye,  and  brought  home  to  his  heart,. in  the  most  affecting 
manner.  In  this  solemn  place,  also,  he  is  in  the  midst  of  his  fellow- 
Chnstians,  uniting  with  them  in  their  pravers  and  praises,  and  sit- 
ting  with  them  at  the  table  of  Christ  to  celebrate  his  sufferings,  and 
the  love  wherewith  he  loved  us  and  gave  himself  for  us.     In  such 
a  situation,  how  great  and  good  must  his  Father,  Redeemer,  and 
Sanctificr  appear !    How  little,  how  unworthy,  how  sinful !    How 
strange  must  it  seem,  that  he,  who  is  unworthy  of  the  least,  should 
thus  be  put  into  the  possession  of  the  greatest  of  all  mercies! 
How  naturally,  how  often,  and  how  anxiously,  will  he  inquire, 
whether  it  can  be  proper,  for  such  a  being  as  himself,  to  unite  with 
the  followers  of  the  Redeemer  in  their  worship,  share  in  their  pri- 
▼ileges,  and  participate  in  their  hopes,  and  in  their  joys ! 

Feelings  of  the  same  general  nature  will  also  be  awakened,  and 
often  in  an  equal  degree,  when  he  retires  to  his  closet  to  pray  to  his 
Father  who  is  in  secret.  Here  he  withdraws  entirely  from  the  world, 
and  meets  his  Maker  face  to  face.  The  Divine  character,  and  his 
own,  must  be  brought  before  his  eyes  in  the  strongest  light,  while 
he  is  employed  in  confessing  his  sins,  and  supplicating  paraon  and 


■Uiclification ;  ^aicfiilly  ackDOwledging  the  blessings  which  he 
has  received,  and  humbly  asking  for  those  which  he  needs.     HoV  J 
naturally  would  be  exclaim,  Lord,  tekat  is  man,  that  thouart  rnin^'  1 
Jui  ef  him,  or  tht  son  of  man,  thai  thou  shouldtsl  vitit  him!  fl 

Such,  if  1  mistake  not,  are  the  views  formed  by  Christian  humi*^  1 
lity  j  and  such  the  affections  of  the  mind  in  which  it  prevails.  '  I 

REMARKS.  ■ 

From  these  observations  it  is  evident, 

1st.   That  Evangtlical  humility  is  exactly  conformed  to  ihi  nal 
ctrcwnjiBNCM  and  character  of  men, 

Th«  views,  which  the  humble  man  entertains  of  tumself,  and  of 
his  condition,  are  exactly  suited  to  both.     He  is  just  such  a  being 
as  he  supposes  himself  to  be,  and  in  just  such  a  condition.     His 
origin  is  as  lowly,  his  situation  as  dependent  and  precarious,  his 
mind  as  ignorant  and  erring,  his  character  as  guilty,  and  his  des£>  _ 
nation  fraught  with  as  mucn  distress  and  danger,  as  he  himself  reaU  ■ 
izes.     His  views  therefore,  are  absolutely  true  and  just,     if  suc^'a 
views  then  are  honourable  to  a  rational  being,  if  no  other  thougbts  1 
can  be  honourable  to  such  a  being,  then  the  views  entertained  bf  4 
humility  are  honourable  to  the  human  character.    On  the  conlrar^g 
the  views  of  pride,  or  as  Mr.  Hume  chooses  to  style  it,  self-valva- 
tion,  are  absolutely  unsuited  both  to  the  condition  and  character  of 
man.     They  are  radically  and  universally  unjust  and  false,  and  of 
course,  are  only  disgraceful  and  conlempiiblc. 

The  affections,  which  have  been  here  considered  as  involved 
in  humility,  are  evidently  no  less  iusl.  They  spring  irresistitJj^ 
fiiom  the  views ;  and  no  sober  mind  can  entertain  the  latter  with^ 
out  experiencing  the  former.  These  affections  are  all,  plainl]^ 
tbe  harmony  of  the  heart  with  the  dictates  of  the  understanding; 
dictates  seen  and  acknowledged  to  be  just  and  certain,  and,  whert' 
tbe  heart  is  governed  by  candour,  irresistible.  Whenever  thit' 
mind  sees  itself  to  be  thus  ignorant,  erring,  and  sinful,  and  its  sitii> 
ation  thus  dependent,  precarious,  and.  (hstrcssing ;  it  cannoL 
without  violence  done  to  itself,  fail  of  feeling  both  the  char* 
acter  and  condition,  and  of  feeling  them  deeply ;  for  they  art  IJ 
objects  of  immeasurable  importance  to  its  whole  well-being* 
Equally  just  are  the  affections,  which  he  exercises  towards  bi> 
maker  and  his  fellow-Christians.  The  difference  between  tbo 
cbaiQcler  of  God  and  his  own  character  being  seen  to  be  such ;  m 
eatire,  so  vast,  particularly  as  He  is  infinitely  holy  and  pun|^ 
while  himself  is  altogether  polluted  with  guilt ;  no  emotions  can  b^ 
proper  towards  this  CTeat  and  glorious  Being,  which  do  not  ii^ 
volve  a  Htronj;  sense  of  this  amazing  moral  difference  between  Him 
and  iUelf.  m  such  a  case,  where  there  is  no  humility,  there  can 
be  no  reverence  towards  God ;  and  were  there  is  no  reverence^ 
it  ia  impossible  (bai  there  should  be  any  thing  acceptable  towardi 
Him. 


J 


HBL,  Kit.] 

In  the  same  manner,  humility  enters  into  evwyuther  aibction 
of  a  sanctified  mind  towards  its  Maker.  Our  views  of  the  mercjr 
of  God  exercised  towards  us,  and  the  emotions  excited  by  them, 
«re  exactly  proportioned  to  the  apprehensions,  which  we  form  of 
-oor  own  unworthincss.  He,  to  whom  much  is  forgiven,  our  Sav- 
iour infonns  us,  will  love  much.  Pardon,  Mercy,  and  Grace,  are 
terms  which  mean  lillle,  if  they  have  any  meaning  that  is 
realized,  in  the  eve  of  him  who  is  not  humbled  for  his  sins,  and 
who  does  not  feel  hia  own  absolute  need  of  pardon.  The  Song 
of  the  redeemed  is  sung  only  by  those,  who  realize  the  love  of 
Christ,  because  he  has  washed  them  from  their  sins  in  his  own 
blood.     The  gratitude,  therefore,  exercised  to  God  for  his  un- 

rikabte  mercy,  in  forgiving  our  sins,  and  redeeming  us  from  on- 
ihe  curse  of  the  Law,  will  in  a  great  measure  be  created  1^ 
otir  fatmulity. 

la  the  same  manner  does  it  enhance  our  complacency  in  tbe 
Krine  character.  Of  dependence  it  is  the  essence  j  of  adora* 
tion,  and  indeed  of  all  our  worship,  it  is  the  substance  and  the 
■ouL. 

3dly>  From  thtit  obiervatxons  it  is  evidtnt,  thul  no  man  can  hopt 
for  ae£tptance  -aith  God  ■wilhovt  hmnility. 

Ood,  says  the  text,  rttistttk  the  proud,  but  givtth  grace  (or 
&7oiir)  lo  ikt  kumbU.  The  proud,  and  the  humble,  are  two  great 
classes  including  the  whole  of  the  human  race.  Of  which  class, 
does  it  seem  probable  tolhe  eye  of  sober  reason,  that  the  infinitely 
perfect  Author  of  all  things  will  select  his  own  fkmily,  and  the  oo- 
jccts  of  his  everlasting  love ;  those  who  possess  tiie  views  and 
the  spirit  here  described  ;  or  those  who  indulge  the  "  self-valua- 
tion'' so  grateful  to  Mr.  Hume :  those  who  boldly  come  before  him, 
with  God,  I  thank  tket,  that  I  am  not  as  other  men  ;  or  those  who 
dare  jvot  lift  up  their  eyes  to  heaven,  biU,  imiting  laion  their  breasts^ 
my,  God,  be  merciful  lo  me  a  sinner  ?  How  obvious  is  it  to  com- 
mon sense,  that,  if  he  accept  any  of  our  race,  they  will  be  such  as 
have  just  views  of  their  character  and  condition,  of  their  own  ab- 
toltite  unworthiness,  of  the  greatness  of  his  mercy  in  forgiving 
theirsios  and  sanctifying  their  souls,  of  the  transcendent  glory  of 
Ae  Redeemer  in  becoming  their  propitiation,  and  of  the  infinite  be- 
nSgnity  of  the  Divine  Spirit  in  renewing  them  in  the  image,  and 
iwtonng  them  to  the  favour,  of  God.  Who  else  can  possess  the 
ipiriL,  who  else  can  unite  in  the  employments,  who  else  can  bar 
nonite  in  the  pnuses,  of  the  first-born  T 

Let  me  ask,  is  it  possible  thai  a  proud  man  should  be  a  candidate 
fiir  bnmortal  life  ;  whether  proud  of  his  birth,  his  wealth,  his  «ta- 
fioD,  his  accomplishments,  or  his  moral  character  ?  Suppose  him 
Wairive  in  the  regions  of  life,  in  what  manner  would  his  pride  be 
rtijiloyed?  Which  of  these  subjects  wtwiW  he  make  the  theme  of 
bis  conversation  with  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect  T  How 
would  he  blend  his  pride  with  their  worship :  how  would  he  pre- 
•*"•  ••  before  th*  throne  of  God  f 


•Sdlj.  t\rmn  these  obeervatione  aUoj  we  learn  that  humUity  is  a  Us- 
position  emtnently  lovely. 

Learn  of  me,  says  tne  Saviour  of  mankind  to  proud  and  perish* 
ine  sinnerSi  for  I  am  meek  and  lomly  of  heart.  How  astonishing 
a  declaration  from  the  mouth  of  Him  who  controlled  the  elements 
with  a  word,  at  whose  coomiand  the  dead  were  raised  to  life,  and 
at  whose  rebuke  demons  trembled  and  fled !  Draw  nigh  ye  mise- 
rable worms  of  the  dust,  place  yourselves  by  the  side  of  this  glo- 
rious person,  and  recite  before  mm  the  foundations  on  which  your 
loftiness  rests ;  your  riches,  your  rank,  your  talents,  and  your  sta- 
tions. How  will  these  subjects  appear  to  his  eye  ?  How  will  those 
appear,  who  make  them  the  grounds  of  their  seff-valuation  ^— - 
Meekness  and  lowliness  of  heart  adorned  him  with  beauty  inex- 
pressible.    Can  pride  be  an  ornament  to  you  ? 

Would  you  be  amiable  in  the  sight  of  God,  you  must  essential- 
ly resemble  Him  who  was  ^'  altogether  lovely."  Even  you  your- 
selves cannot  but  discern,  that,  had  He  been  proud,  it  wbuld  have 
tarnished  his  character,  and  have  eclipsed  the  face  of  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness.  .      '  . 

In  the  mean  time  let  Christians  remember,  and  feel,  that  th^y 
themselves  will  be  lovely,  exactly  in  proportion  as  they  approxi- 
mate to  the  character  of  the  Redeemer  in  tneir  humility.  Tne  same 
mind^  says  St.  Paul  to  the  Philippians,  be  in  youy  which  was  also 
m  Christ ;  who^  being  in  the  form  of  Godj  thought  it  no  robbery 
to  be  equal  with  Crodj  but  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and 
took  ipon  him  the  form  of  a  servant^  and  was  made  m  the  likeness 
of  men  ;  and  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  humbled  himself, 
and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross*  From 
what  a  height  did  he  descend !  How  lowly  the  visible  station  which 
he  assumed ! 

Your  humility  towards  God  will  make  you  lovely  in  his  sight  j 
your  humility  towards  your  fellow-Christians  will  make  you  lovely 
m  theirs.  In  both  cases,  it  will  be  a  combination  of  views  and 
affections  conformed  to  truth,  exactly  suited  to  your  character  and 
circumstances,  and  equally  conformed  to  the  good  pleasure  of  God, 
and  to  the  perfect  example  of  his  beloved  oon.  It  will  mingle 
with  all  your  affections,  and  make  them  sweet  and  delightful.  It 
.will  operate  on  all  your  conduct,  and  make  it  amiable  in  the  sig^ 
of  every  beholder.  From  pride  and  all  its  wretched  consequences^ 
it  will  deliver  you.  Of  the  CTace  of  God  it  will  assure  you.  Far 
to  this  man  will  Hook,  says  tne  High  and  Lofty  One  that  inhabitdk 
eternity  J  even  to  him,  who  is  of  a  humble  and  contrite  spirit ;  to  re* 
we  the  spirit  of  the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the  contritOm 
It  will  accompany  you  through  life,  and  lessen  all  the  troubles, 
and  increase  all  the  comforts,  of  your  pilgrimage.  It  will  soften 
your  dying  bed,  and  enhance  your  hope  and  your  confidence  before 
tbe  last  trumnal. 


SERMON  XGV. 


m  LAW  OF   GOD. — TBI    FIRST   AND   ORBAT    COMMAVDUVT.-  -> 

RESIGNATION. 


tiUmmmmd  framed,  Smfing,  Fathtr^  if  VmubtwHUmg^rmm/o^lkk  09  fnmwktt 

The  next  exercise  of  love  to  God  in  our  progress  is  Resig- 
nation. 

Of  this  excellence  the  text  contains  the  most  perfect  example^ 
which  has  been  recorded  or  witnessed  in  tho  Universe.  Our  oav* 
ioar  while  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  having  withdrawn  from 
Am  diaeipUs  about  a  stone^s  casij  kneeled  dowrij  anaprayedj  under  an 
agonizing  sense  of  the  evils,  which  he  was  about  to  suffer.  His 
prayer  in  the  midst  of  this  agony  was,  Father ^  if  thou  be  willing j 
remope  tki$  eia>  from  me :  neverthelessj  not  my  willj  but  tkinej  be 
ifone  !  The  situation  of  Christ  was  much  more  trying  than  we  can 
conceive.  Yet  in  this  situation  he  bows  his  will  entirely  to  the  will 
of  God ;  and  prays  him  to  remove  the  cup,  only  on  the  condition 
diat  he  is  willing ;  and  that  not  his  own  will,  but  the  will  of  the  Fa* 
tber,  may  be  done.  The  occasion  was  wonderful:  the  Resiena* 
tioo  was  complete.  He  yielded  himself  entirely  into  the  han£  of 
his  Father ;  and  earnestly  desired,  that  his  will,  whatever  it  should 
cost  himself,  might  be  done.  Nothing  can  be  more  edifying,  than 
this  example :  nor  can  any  thing  be  more  instructive.  By  it  we 
are  taught, 

1  St.  7%al  ReKgious  Resignation  is  a  quiet  yielding  of  ourselves  to 
f&e  disposal  of  wd,  and  not  to  the  mere  sufferance  of  evil* 

Cbrist  prayed  earnestly,  and  repeatedly,  that,  if  it  were  possi- 
Ue,  the  evd,  or  the  eup^  might  pass  from  him.  That  this  was  per* 
feet  rectitude  on  his  part  will  not  be  questioned.  What  he,  with 
perfect  rectitude,  desured  to  escape,  we  may,  with  entire  rectitude 
also,  desire  to  escape.  As  he  was  not  willing  to  suffer  evil ;  it 
perfecthi  rightj  that  he  should  not  be  toilling.  It  is  entirely 
t,  thereiore,  that  we  should  be  equally  unwilDng. 
But  Christ  was  entirely  willing  to  do,  and  to  simer,  whatever  ' 
God  willed  him  to  do,  or  to  suffer.  He  was,  however,  disposed 
thns  to  do,  and  suffer,  merely  because  it  was  the  will  of  God ; 
lod  because  that  will  reauires  nothing,  but  what  is  perfectly  wise 
lad  good,  and  perfectly  aesirable.  As,  therefore,  the  perfect  Re* 
lignation  of  our  Saviour  was  a  yielding  of  himself  to  the  will  of 
God,  and  not  at  all  to  mere  suffering ;  so  it  is  clear,  beyond  a  de^ 
bile,  thatReUpoosResignationis,  in  every  case,  of  this  nature  ofl/j^ 
Vol.  IIL  13 


• 


I 


98    .  RESIGNATION.  [8ER.  XCF. 

Sdly.  Tliat  it  is  our  duty  to  resign  ourselves  to  the  mil  of  God 
entirely  ;  and  tliatj  in  all  situations  of  life. 

The  situation,  in  which  Christ  expressed  the  Resignation  in  the 
text,  was  certainly  much  more  trying,  than  any  which  men  expe- 
rience in  the  present  world.  At  the  same  time,  he  had  not  me- 
rited this  distress  by  any  £aiult,  or  defect,  of  his  own.  His  pure 
and  perfect  mind  was  free,  aUke,  from  error  and  from  sin.  Ac- 
cordingly, in  that  memorable  prayer,  contained  in  the  17th  chapter 
of  John,  and  uttered  just  before  his  agony  in  the  garden,  he  could 
say  with  perfect  confidence,  as  well  as  with  exact  truth  and  pro- 
pnety,  I  have  glorified  thee  on  the  earth :  I  have  finished  the  warkj 
which  thou  gavest  me  to  do.  And  novjy  O  Father  !  glorify  tJicu  me, 
with  thine  own  self  with  the  glory ^  which  I  had  with  thee  before  the 
world  was.  Yet  in  this  situation  of  peculiar  distress,  he  gELve  up, 
entirely,  every  wish  of  his  own  :  choosing  rather  to  suffer  these 
wonderful  afflictions,  if  it  was  the  will  of  God  that  he  should  suffer 
them,  than  to  escape  them,  if  it  was  not.  Whatever  afflictions  be- 
fyl  us,  we  are  ever  to  remember,  that  we  have  deserved  them ;  and 
that  they  are  always  inferior  in  intenseness  to  those,  which  were 
suffered  by  Christ.  Our  reasons  for  resigning  ourselves  entirely 
to  the  disposal  of  God,  therefore,  are,  in  some  respects,  greater 
t|ian  his.     In  all  situations,  it  of  course  becomes  us  to  be  stilly  omd 

IMPV  that  Ae  who  (Micts  us  is  God. 

To  render  our  Kesignation  entire,  it  is  indispensable,  that  it 
should  be  unmingled  with  murmuring,  impatience,  distrust  of  the 
goodness  of  God,  or  any  dissatisfaction  with  his  Providcfnce.  We 
may  lawfully  wish,  not  to  suffer  evil,  considered  by  itself;  but  we 
cannot  lawmlly  wish,  that  the  will  of  God  should  not  be  done. — 
Nor  can  we  lawfully  complain,  at  any  time,  of  that  which  is  done 
by  his  will.  He,  who  complains,  has  not,  if  he  is  resigned  at  all^ 
arrived  at  the  due  degree  of  Resignation.  Jeremiahj  with  irresisti- 
ble force,  asks,  Shall  a  living  man  complain}  a  num  for  thepwUsh^ 
ment  of  his  sins  F 

Sdly •  Religious  Resignation  is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  clears 
est^  and  strongest ^  sen^e  of  the  evils^  which  we  suffer}  and  wUk  th€ 
dupest  distress^  while  we  suffer. 

Christ,  as  I  have  observed,  was  perfectly  resigned.  Yet  Christ 
felt,  in  the  deepest  manner,  the  whole  extent  of  the  evils  which  he 
suffered.  This  wc  know,  both  because  he  prayed  to  be  delivered 
from  them,  if  it  were  possible ;  and  because  his  agonies  forced  the 
sweat  to  descend  upon  him  in  the  form  of  great  dbypt  of  blood. 
What  Christ  did,  in  this  respect,  it  is  lawml  for  us  to  do.  Christ 
felt  these  evils  t6  their  full  extent ;  and  yet  was  perfectly  resimed* 
We,  therefore,  may  in  the  same  manner  £eel  the  evils,  which  we 
experience ;  and  yet  be  the  subjects,  in  this  very  conduct,  of  true 
Evangelical  Resignation. 

4tlu)r.  Christian  Resiznation  is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  moH 
ffrvent  iUfplictUions  to  God  for  delioertmce  /roa^th$^  evils  which  «• 
st^en 


SMB.  XC7.]  RESIGNATION.  99 

The  evidence  of  this  is  complete  in  the  example  of  Christ* 
Christ  thus  prayed,  while  yet  he  was  perfectly  resigned :  we,  of 
course,  may  thus  pray,  without  lessening,  at  all  the  degree,  or  af- 
fecting the  genuineness,  of  oiir  Resignation. 

The  obligations,  which  we  are  under  to  exercise  this  spirit,  are 
founded  both  in  the  command  of  God,  and  the  nature  of  things. 
The  command  of  God  carries  with  it,  in  all  cases,  an  authority  land 
obligation,  which  are  without  limits.  With  this  authority  he  re- 
quires us  to  be  resigned  to  his  whole  will ;  asserting  it,  with  the 
most  perfect  propriety,  to  be  His  prerogative  alone  to  prescribe, 
and  our  duly  entirely  to  obey.  We  are  his  creatures  ;  and  are, 
therefore,  under  all  possible  obligation  to  do  his  pleasure.  At  the 
same  time,  his  will  is  perfectly  ri^ht ;  and  ought  exactly  to  be  obey- 
ed, even  if  there  were  no  authority  to  bind,  and  no  reward  to  retri- 
bute, our  obedience.  Our  own  supreme  eood  is  entirely  promoted 
by  our  obedience  only  ;  both  as  the  obedience  itself  is  aelightfiil-, 
and  as  it  is  followed  by  a  glorious  and  divine  reward. 

Retignation  is  not  merely  a  single  act,  but  a  general  couiise  of 
obedience ;  a  general  preparation  of  the  heart  to  yield  itself  to 
God's  known  will,  and  his  promised  dispensations.  1  here  include, 
and  have  all  along  includea,  what  is  commonly  called  Submission. 
Submission  differs  from  Resignation  in  nothing  but  this :  Submission 
iff  yielding  the  heart  to  the  divine  willy  in  that  which  has  alread^iakm 
plaeey  oris  now  taking  place;  and  Resignation,  yielding  the  hfcart 
to  that,  which,  it  is  foreseen,  may,  or  will,  hcrcaficr  take  place» 
The  spirit  is  exactly  the  same,  as  to  its  nature,  in  all  instances  ; 
and  the  difference  is  found  only  in  regarding  the  past,  present,  or 
fature,  accomplishment  of  the  divine  will.  This  distinction  is  so 
nearly  a  nominal  one  only,  that  both  names  are  used  indiscrimin- 
ately ;  and  of  80  little  importance,  as  to  preclude  any  necessary 
regard  to  it  in  tlus  discourse. 

This  dispoaftion  is  the  only  becoming  temper  in  suffering  crea- 
tures, so  far  as  their  sufferings  are  concerned.  The  suffenngs  of 
mankind,  in  the  present  world,  are  all  expressions  of  the  will  of 
God.  There  are  bXit  three  dispositions,  with  which  they  can  be 
regarded ;  impaliencej  indifference^  or  acquiescence^  It  cannot  be  ne- 
cessary for  me  to  show,  that  the  last  of  these  is  the  only  spirit  with 
which  we  can  receive  either  profitably,  or  becomingly,  the  chas- 
tisements, inflicted  by  the  hand  of  God. 

To  acquiesce  in  the  divine  pleasure  under  sufferings  is  a  strone, 
aaeminend/ excellent  exercise  of  Love  and  Reverence  to  Goa. 
It  is  not  esiy  to  conceive  how  we  can  give  a  higher,  or  more  deci- 
sive testimony  of  our  delight  in  the  divine  character,  or  our  appro- 
bation of  the  divine  government,  than  by  quiedy  yielding  to  that 
government  in  circuniitances  of  suffering  and  sorrow;  by  testifying 
with  the  heart,  that  we  have  such  a  sense  of  the  wisdom  and  goocU 
ness  of  God,  as  to  be  satisfied  to  undergo  whatever  afflictions  he  is  n 
plAsed  to  sefid  upon  us ;  and  to  give  up  our  own  wishes  and  com- 


•100  RESIGN ATION.  [SER-XCT. 

forts,  that  the  pleasure  of  God  may  be  done,  and  his  jjlory  pro- 
moted. This  is  an  exercise  of  love  to  our  Maker,  which  proves 
itself  to  be  genuine,  and  excellent,  by  the.willing  self-denial,  which 
it  encounters ;  and  by  the  victory,  which  it  gains  over  interest  and 
pleasure  powerfully  present. 

It  is  also  to  be  remembered,  that  the  Christian,  notwithstanding 
he  is  a  Christian,  is  still  a  sinful  being.  Afflictions  are  punishments 
of  his  sins,  incomparablv  less,  than  he  has  deserved.  Kcsienatioii 
to  them  is  a  candid,  equitable,  dutiful  acknowledgment  of  the  jus- 
tice of  God  in  sending  them,  and  a  humble  confession  of  the  sins, 
by  which  thev  have  been  deserved. 

By  this  spirit  the  general  selfishness  of  the  mind  is  gradually 
wasted  away ;  the  strength  of  passion  and  appetite  continually 
weakened;  its  impiety  prevented;  its  ingratitude  destroyed ;  and 
it0  rebellion  bfx>ken  down.  The  rebel  is  converted  into  a  child.  A 
fltotnity  and  quietness  of  disposition  take  possession  of  the  soul ; 
^Ilay  the  bitterness  of  its  distresses ;  sooth  all  its  tumults  into  peace ; 
mingle  comfort  in  the  cup  of  sorrow ;  and  happily  blend  with  all 
its  sufferings  the  inherent  aelight  of  Resignation ;  a  supporting  sense 
<f  the  approbation  and  favour  of  God. 

REMARKS. 

From  this  passage  of  Scripture,  thus  considered,  it  is  evident, 
1st.  TTuit  mllingness  to  suffer  Perdition  is  no  part  of  Christian 

Resignation. 

It  is  well  known  to  my  audience,  that  the  contrary  doctrine  to 

that  which  I  have  here  asserted,  lias  been  taught  by  men  of  distin- 

fuished  reputation  for  learning  and  piety :  and  it  is  equally  well 
nown,  that  no  human  learning  and  piety  will  furnish  a  sufficient 
securitv  from  error.  All  human  opinions,  therefore,  may  be  war- 
ran  tabfy  questioned ;  and  none  are  to  be  received  without  evidence, 
upon  the  mere  reputation  of  their  authors.  While,  therefore,  I  would 
treat  the  authors  with  becoming  respect ;  I  shall  take  the  liberty 

X         freelv  to  question  their  opinions. 

That  Christian  Resignation  does  not  at  all  involve  a  willingness 
to  suffer  perdition  is,  in  my  view,  unanswerably  clear  from  the 
text.  To  the  arguments  derived  from  this  source,  I  shall,  how- 
ever, add  a  few,  out  of  many,  suggested  by  the  nature  of  the  sub- 
ject. 

In  the  first  place,  ChrisHan  Resignation  is  Resignation  to  nothing 
but  the  will  of  God.  This  position  has,  if  I  mistake  not,  beei) 
proved  beyond  debate,  in  the  body  of  the  discourse.  The  will  of 
Uody  hy  which  we  are  to  he  governed,  is  plainly  that  which  is,  or  can 
&e,  known  to  us.     The  proof  of  this,  both  from  reason  and  Scrip- 

«*      ture,  is  complete.     Reason  teaches  us,  or  rather  we  know  by  in- 
tuitioQf  tjigil  A  is  impossible  for  us  to  be  governed  by  a  rule,  which 

*       we^canfioft  k9pw.     Revelation  informs  us,  that  secret  things  belong 
to  Chdj  and  that  only  the  things  which  are  revealed  belong  to  ia» 


»» 


SCR.  XOr.]  RESIGNATION.  101 

(tnd  to  our  children  for  ever  ;'that  we  may  do  all  the  words  of  hh  law* 
That,  then,  which  is  not  known  to  us,  cannot  belong  to  us,  in  any 
sense,  a£  a  rule,  or  part,  of  our  duty. 

But  it  is  not  known,  and  without  a  new  and  direct  revelation  it 
cannot  be  known,  to  any  man  living,  to  be  the  will  of  God,  that  he 
shoukl  suffer  perdition.     The  Scriptures  reveal  to  us,  that  the  im- 

Esnitent  and  unbeHeving  will  indeed  suffer  this  terrible  punishment* 
ut  they  do  not  reveal  to  any  man,  that  he  himself  will  be  impen- 
itent and  unbelieving,  when  he  leaves  the  world,  or  that  he  will, 
finally  be  condemnea.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  for  any  man  to 
know  in  this  world,  that  the  will  of  God  wiH  require  him  to  suffer 
perdition.  If,  th^n,  he  resigns  himself  to  this  dreadful  allotment, 
as  being  a  part  of  the  will  of  God ;  he  himself  presumptuously  es- 
tablishes by  his  own  contrivance,  and  conjecture,  something  as  the 
will  of  God,  which  God  has  not  declarea  to  be  such ;  which  t)iQ 
man  himself  cannot  know  to  be  such,  while  in  the  present  worklf 
and  which  he  cannot  lawfully  presume  to  be  such.  Instead,  there- 
fore, of  resigning  himself  to  the  divine  will,  he  resigns  himself  to 
a  will,  which  his  own  imagination  creates  for  God ;  and  is  guilty 
of  intruding  into  the  provmce  and  assuming  the  prerogatives  of 
his  Creator. 

2dly»  Every  sincere  Professor  of  Religion  either  knows  or  believes 
himself  to  be  a  Christian. 

If  he  knows  himself  to  be  a  Christian,  then  he  knows'  it  to  be 
contrary  to  the  will  of  God,  that  he  should  be  finally  condemned, 
or  that  he  should  suffer  the  miseries  of  perdition.  To  be  willing, 
in  this  case^  to  suffer  these  miseries,  is  to  be  willing  to  suffer  that 
which  is  known  by  him  to  be  contrary  to  the'will  of  God.  It  is  a 
consent  to  prevent  Christ  of  one  trophy  of  his  Cross,  one  glo- 
rious firuit  of  his  sufferings,  and  to  take  a  gem  fi*om  his  crown  of 
glory. 

It  the  Professor  believes  himself  to  be  a  Christian ;  then,  in  be- 
ing willing  to  suffer  perdition,  he  is  willing  to  suffer,  in  direct  con- 
tradiction to  what  he  believes  to  be  the  will  of  God.  His  belief 
here  ou^ht  to  have  exactly  the  same  influence  on  his  disposition 
and  conduct,  as  his  knowletlge  in  the  former  case.  Wherever  we 
have  not,  and,  at  the  time  when  we  are  to  act,  cannot  have,  certain^ 
fy,  we  are  under  absolute  obligation  to  be  governed  hjihe  highest 
probability.  In  this  case,  therefore,  the.auty  of  the  Professor  is 
exactly  tne  same  as  in  the  former. 

When  we  remember,  that  the  sufferer  becomes,  of  course,  the 
eternal  enemy  of  God  and  of  all  good,  and  that  the  Professor,  in 
thus  consenting  to  suffer,  consents,  in  the  same  act,  to  be  the 
eternal  enemy  of  God  and  of  all  gONod ;  and  when  this  consent  is 

Yielded  in  du*ect  contradiction  to  what  he  either  knowi^'  xit  be- 
eves, to  be  the  will  of  God ;  it  will,  I  think,  be  diffici^t  tufind  a 
leason  which  will  evhice  this  conduct  to  be  a  part  of  thefSburisdan's 
duty. 


if  n 
It  is 


]Q3  RESIGNATION.  [SER.  XCT« 

Sdly«  T^re  t>  no  precept  in  the  Scriptures  enjoining  this  c<m- 
duct. 

It  certainly  lAost  seem  strange,  that  a  dutjeo  extraordinnry^and 
so  fitted  to  perplex  the  minds  of  mere  men,  should,  if  it  be  really^ 
a  duty,  be  no  where  expressly  enjoined.  Certainly  it  is  not  likely 
to  be  easily  embraced  by  any  man.  It  can  hardly  be  supposeo, 
therefore,  if  it  be  really  a  part  of  the  Evangelical  system,  to  be 
left  to  inference,  philosophy,  and  supposition.  No  precept,  so  &r 
as^  we  are  able  to  judge,  needs  more  to  be  clear,  and  express,  than 
that  which  should  require  of  us  this  singular  mental  effort.  But  such 
a  precept  cannot  be  found. 

4thly.  There  is  no  example  of  such  Resigfuztion  recorded  in  th€ 
Scriptures. 

There  ire  two  examples,  which  are  alleged  in  support  of  the 
..  ResignatiOD  in  question.  The  first  is  in  Ex.  xxxii.  31,  32,  Jlnd 
Moses  returned  unto  the  Lord  ^  t^ndsaidy  Oh!  this  people  hare  m- 
ned  a  great  sin^  and  have  made  them  gods  of  gold.  Yet  71011;,  if 
thou  wilt,  forgive  their  sin :  and  if  noty  blot  me,  I  pray  thee,  out  of 
thy  hooky  which  thou  hast  written.  The  part  of  this  text,  which  is 
alleged  in  support  of  the  doctrine  here  conteilded  against,  is  con- 
tained in  these  expressions :  Yet  now,  if  thou  wilty  forgive  their  sin  : 

noty  blot  me,  /  pray  theey  out  of  thy  hooky  which  thou  hasi  written» 

is  supposed,  ihdii  Moses  prayed  to  God  to  make  him  joiiserdble,  on 
the  conoition  specified  throughout  eternity. 

Concerning  this  subject,  I't>bserve,  first,  that  the  expression  blot 
me  out  of  thy  book  which  thou  has  vftitteny  is  wholly  figurative ;  and, 
like  most  other  figurative  language,  is  capable  of  being  understood 
in  various  senses.  To  say  the  most,  then,  it  is  ambiguous  and  un- 
.  certain.  I  need  not  say,  that  such  a  doctrine  as  this,  ought  not  to 
be  founded  on  an  ambiguous  passage  of  Scripture,  nor  on  any  un- 
certainty whatever. 

Secondly.  It  will  be  admitted,  that  Mosesy  although  he  prayed 
m  a  violent  state  of  emotion,  yet  spoke  in  sqme  accordance  with 
common  sense.  But  the  interpretation  given  to  his  words  by  those 
who  teach  this  doctrine,  make  him  speak  the  most  arrant  nonsense. 
JHis  words  are.  Yet  now,  if  thou  wilty  forgive  their  sins :  and  ifnoi^ 
blot  me,  I  pray  theCy  out  of  thy  book  which  thou  hast  written.  Here, 
according  to  the  abbettors  of  this  doctrine,  Moses  prays,  that  God 
would  forgive  their  sin,  if  he  was  willing ;  and  if  he  was  unwilling, 
that  Bl^Vould  blot  him  out  of  the  book  of  life.  They  say,  that  the 
henievolenceoi Moses  was  so  great,  that  he  chose  rather  to  suffer 
endless'ntisenr,  in  order  to  obtain  the  forgiveness  of  his  country- 
men, thta  to  DC  endlessly  happy,  and  see  them  condemned.  But 
they  do  not  attend  to  the  words  of  Moses.  He  himself  says  ho  such 
*  ySaing.  On  the  contrary,  he  pravs,  that  God  would  blot  him  out  of 
his  book^  if  he  will  not  forgive  tneir  sin :  choosing  not  to  be  happy 
himself,  unless  they  may  be  happy  with  him ;  ^d  choosing  to  oe 
endlessly  miserable,  rather  than  to  hf  endlessly  happy,  unless  thej. 


SEE.  XCV.]  RESIGNATION.  103 

may  be  happy  also.  This,  it  must  be  acknowle<%ed,  if  it  hi  be* 
nevoience,  is  benevolence  of  a  very  extraordinary  kind*  Moses^ 
according  to  this  scheme",  is  desirous,  if  he  cannot  obtain  all  the 
good  which  he  wishes,  to  have  none ;  and,  if  his  countrymen  can* 
not  be  happy,  to  be  miserable  himself:  to  be  endlessly  misemble, 
without  the  least  expectation  of  doine,  without  a  possibility  of  d(y% 
in^,  any  good  whatever  to  them:  in  plain  langua^*  to  be  endlessly 
Duserable  for  the  sake  of  being  endlessly  miserable. 

It  is  also  Resignation  of  an  extraordinary  kind.  Instead  of  be- 
ing Resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  it  is  resignation,  directly  oppos- 
eo,  and  perfectly  known  by  Moses  hunself  to  be  directly  opposed, 
to  that  will.  Moses  certainly  knew,  that  he  was  destined  to  end* 
less  life;  and  therefore  certainly  knew,  that  this  was  the  will  of 
God.  To  this  will,  thus  known,  bis  prayer,  interpreted  acitmling 
Co  this  scheme,  is  direcdy  contradictory.  I  hesitate  not  to  isay,  that 
Moses  never  exercised  Resignation  of  this  nature. 

Thirdly.  The  real  meaning  of  this praj/er  is j  that,  on  the  condition 
specifitdj  God  would  take  away  his  life. 

After  the  rebellion  of  the  Israelites  at  the  foot  of  the  Mount,  in 
which  they  made,  and  worshipped,  the  golden  calf,  God  directed 
Moses  to  kt  him  alone^  that  he  might'  consume  them  ;  and  promised 
lo  make  f^  Moses  himself  a  great  nation.  Alluring  as  this  promise 
was,  Moses  loved  Israel  too  well,  to  forsake  them  on  this  pressing 
occasion.  He  therefore  besought  God  tg  forgive  them,  with  ^reat 
earnestness  and  anxiety ;  and  prayed  fervently  also.  that,  if  he 
would  not  forgive  them,  he  would  take  away  his  own  life;  proba- , 
bly,  that  he  might  not  witness  the  melancholy  sight  of  the  ruin  of  a 
people,  for  whom  he  had  done,  and  suffered,  so  much,  and  in  whose 
mterests  his  heart  was  so  entirely  bound  up.  The  book  here  cal- 
led the  hook  which  God  had  written^  is  a  figurative  allusion  to  a  re- 
gistery  m  which  were  recorded  the  names  of  living  persons  ;  and  in 
the  present  case,  is  considered  as  a  register,  written  by  God,  in 
which  were  enrolled  the  names  of  all  living  men.  To  blot  out  the 
name  is  equivalent  to  taking  away  the  life  of  the  person,  thus  regis- 
tered. Tnat  this  was  what  was  intended  by  Moses  must,  1  think, 
be  unanswerably  evident  fix)m  the  observations,  which  have  been 
already  made. 

A  smiilar  prayer  of  the  same  illustrious  man  is  recorded  m 
Numb.  xi.  14, 15,  /  am  not  able  to  bear  all  this  people  alane^  becmtse 
iiis  ioo  heavy  for  me.  And^  if  thou  deal  thus  with  me^  kill  me,  / 
pray  tkecj  out  ofhand^  if  I  have  found  favour  in  thy  sight}  and  lei 
me  not  see  my  wretchedness.  The  only  difference  between  the  two 
cases  seems  to  be,  that  in  the  former  case,  Moses  prayed,  that  he 
might  not  live  to  see  the  ruin  of  his  people ;  and  in  the  latter,  re-  .  -  . 
minted  to  be  released  fix)m  life,  because  he  was  unable  to  bear 
the  boiden  of  superintending,  and  providing  for  them. 

The  other  passage  is  Rom.  ix*  1 — 3,  Isay  the  truth m  Christ  f 
Ilktu>t;  my  conscience  also  bearing  me  zoitness  m  the  Holy  GhoH  / 


104  RESIGNATION.  [8ER.  XCT. 

that  I  have  great  heaviness^  and  continual  sorrow  in  my  heart.  For 
I  could  wish  that  myself  were  accursed  from  Christy  for  my  brethren, 
my  kinsmen  according  to  the  flesh.  Here  it  is  supposed,  that  St. 
Pau/ declares  himself  desirous,  or  at  least  capable  of  being  desir- 
ous, to  suffer  final  perdition  for  the  sake  of  rescuing  bis  brethren, 
the  Israelites,  irom  their  ruinous  condition.  But,  I  apprehend,  the 
Apostle  says  no  such  thing.     For, 

In  the  first  place,  the  declaration  in  the  Greek  is  not  I  could  wish, 
but  /  wished :  not  i)ux^i|xt]v,  in  the  optative  mode,  but  rfv/piMfij  in  the 
indicative.  The  Apostle,  therefore,  here  declares  a  foct,  which 
had  taken  place  ;  not  the  state  of  his  mind  at  the  time  present ; 
nor  a  fact,  which  might  take  place  at  that,  or  any  future  time.  I 
do  not  deny,  that  the  indicative  is  sometimes  used  for  the  optative, 
or,  as  it  ought  to  be  here  understood,  in  the  potential,  sense ;  to 
denote  what  could  be  done,  instead  of  what  has  been  done.  But  no 
case  of  this  kind  is  to  be  presumed:  nor  is  such  a  meanin?  to  be 
admitted,  unless  the  general  construction  of  a  passage  renders  the 
admission  necessary. 

Secondly.  The  admission  of  it  here  ruins  the  meaning  ofthepai* 
sage  altogether.  It  is  introduced  in  this  manner :  /  say  the  truth 
in  Christ  ;  /  lie  not ;  my  conscience  also  bearing  me  witness  in  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Now  what  is  the  assertion,  to  cain  credit  to  which, 
these  three  declarations,  two  of  them  attended  with  all  the  solem- 
nity of  an  oath,  were  made  ?  It  is  found  in  the  following  verse. 
/  have  great  heaviness  and  contintuzl  sorrow  of  heart.  Can  it  be 
imagined,  that  S/.  Paul  would  think  it  necessary,  or  proper,  to 
preface  this  assertion  in  so  solemn  a  manner  ?  Was  it  a  matter 
even  of  surprise,  that  a  person,  afflicted  and  persecuted  as  he  was, 
should  be  the  subject  of  such  sorrow  ?  Could  the  Apostle  need 
the  aid  of  a  triple  declaration,  and  a  double  oath,  to  make  this  as- 
sertion believed  ?  And,  if  these  were  not  necessary,  can  he  be 
supposed  to  have  used  them  for  such  a  purpose ;  or  for  any  pur- 
pose whatever  ? 

As  this  cannot  have  been  the  Apostle's  meaning  of  this  passage; 
so,  happily,  that  meaning  is  sufficiently  obvious.  St.  Paul,  it  is 
well  known,  was  considered  by  the  Jews  as  their  bitter  enemy  ;  as 
hating  their  temple,  worship,  and  nation ;  and  as  conspiring  with 
the  Gentiles  to  subvert  all  those,  which  they  esteemed  their  best 
interests.  This  prejudice  of  theirs  against  him  was  an  immense 
evil :  for  it  not  only  obstructed  powerfully,  and  often  fatally,  the 
success  of  his  evangelical  labours  among  tne  Gentiles;  but,  in  al- 
most all  instances,  prevented  the  Jews  from  receiving  the  Gospel* 
This  evil  the  Apostle  felt  in  its  full  force ;  as  he  teaches  us  on 
many  occasipns,  by  endeavouring  earnestly  to  clear  himself  of  the 
imputation.  The  present  is  one  of  those  instances  :  and  the  mean- 
ing of  the  passage  is  rendered  perfectly  clear,  and  highly  impor- 
tant,  when  it  is  considered  in  tnis  manner ;  and  the  propriety  of 
the  solemn  preface,  with  which  it  commences,  fully  evinced*   The 


SCR.  XCFJ  BESIGNATION.  |Qg 

wcMds,  rendered,  For  I  covld  roith  that  myself -were  accursed  from 
Christj  ougiit  to  be  included,  as  they  plainly  were  mtended  to  be, 
in  a  parenmesis.  The  passage,  truly  translated  in  this  manner, 
win  run  thus  :  /  say  the  truth  in  Chrtst ;  /  lie  not ;  my  conscience 
also  bearing  me  witness  in  the  Holy  Ghost ;  that  I  have  great  heavi- 
ness,  and  continual  sorrow  in  my  hearty  {for  I  also  wished  myself 
separated  from  Christ)  for  mv  brethren^  my  kinsmen^  according  to 
ike  flesh.  That  the  Aposde  nad  really  this  sorrow  and  heaviness 
for  nis  nation  he  knew  would  be  doubted  by  some,  and  disbelieved 
by  others.  He  therefore  naturally,  and  properly,  appeals  to  God 
for  the  reality  of  his  love  to  them,  and  for  the  truth  of  the  declara- 
tion, in  which  it  is  asserted.  To  show  his  sympathy  with  them  in 
their  ruined  state,  he  reminds  them,  that  he  was  once  the  subject  of 
the  same  violent  unbelief,  and  alienation  from  Christ ;  and  that 
then  he  earnestly  chose  to  be  what  he  here  calls  anathema^  justly 
rendered  in  the  margin  separated^  from  Christ,  just  as  ^Aey  now 
chose  it.  A  person,  once  in  this  condition,  would  naturally  be 
believed  to  feel  deeply  the  concerns  of  such,  as  were  now  in  the 
same  condition;  ana  would,  therefore,  allege  this  consideration  with 
the  utmost  force  and  propriety. 

It  will,  I  am  a^are,  be  here  said,  that  this  interpretation  derogates 
exceedingly  from  the  nobleness,  and  expansiveness,  of  the  Apos- 
tle's benevolence,  as  exhibited  in  the  construction  which  1  am 
opposing.  It  seems  to  me,  that  St.  PauPs  oion  meaning  is  as  really 
▼aloable,  as  any,  which  is  devised  for  him  by  his  commentators* 
There  can  be  no  more  daneerous  mode  of  interpreting  the  Scrip- 
tures, than  to  drop  their  obvious  sense ;  and  to  substitute  for  it 
one,  which  happens  to  be  more  agreeable  to  ourselves.  Were  I 
to  ccxnment  in  this  manner  on  the  passage  before  us,  I  should  say, 
that  the  meaning,  to  which  I  object,  is  absurd  and  monstrous ;  and 
that,  which  I  adopt,  becoming  the  Aposde's  character.  At  the 
same  time,  I  would  lay  no  stress  on  this  remark.  My  concern  js 
irith  the  real  sense  of  the  words.  St.  Paul  must  be  allowed  to 
have  spoken  good  sense  :  and  this  the  obvious  and  grammatical 
eonstruction,  here  given  to  his  language,  makes  him  speak*  Where- 
as, the  construction,  which  I  oppose,  makes  him  speak  litde  less 
than  absolute  nonsense. 

These  two  passages  therefore,  although  relied  on  to  support  the 
doctrine  whicn  I  oppose,  do  not  affect  the  question  at  all ;  and 
the  Scriptures  are  equally  destitue  of  examples,  as  of  precepts,  tor 
warrant  the  doctrine. 

5thly.  TTure  is  no  motive  to  induce  the  Mind  to  this  Resignation. 

By  mis  I  do  not  intend,  that  no  motive  is  alleged,  but  that  there 
k  none,  by  which  the  mind  of  a  rational  being  can  be  supposed  to 
be  influenced.  The  motives,  by  which  Christians  are  induced  to 
he  unwilling  to  suffer  perdition,  are :  1st,  the  loss  of  endless  and 
perfect  happiness  in  heaven;  2dly,  the  loss  of  endless  and  perfect 
rirtue,  or  noliness :  Sdly,  the  suffering  of  endless  and  perfect  sin ; 

Vol.111.  14 


'J 


-.1' 


1- 


Me  RSaiONATlON.  ISER.  XCT. 

4thl7,  the  suffering  of  endless  and  perfect  misery;  and  5thly,  the 
glory  of-  Crod  in  the  salvation  of  a  sinner.     The  motive,  which 
nttifit  produce  the  willingness,  in  question,  must  be  of  sufficient 
magnitude  to  overbalance  all  these :  each  of  them  infinite.     Now 
'  what  is  the  motive  alleged  ?    It  is  the  delight  experienced  by  the 
'  Christian  in  seeing  the  glory  of  his  Maker  promoted  bv.his  perdi- 
tion.    Without  questioning  the  possibility  of  being  influenced  bv 
this  motive,  as  iar  as  the  nature  of  tie  castj  merelvi  is  conceme<L 
I  observe,  that  the  willingness  to  glorify  God  in  this  manner,  ana 
the  pleasure  experienced  in  glorifying  him,  (which  is  the  same 
thing)  is  to  endure  but  for  a  moment :  that  is,  during  this  transient 
life.     The  pain,  through  which  this  momentary  pleasure  is  jgain* 
ed,  is,  on  the  contrary,  infinite,  or  endless,  in  each  of  the  methods, 
specified  abore;     Will  it  be  believed,  that,  if  every  volition  of  mm 
i$  at  the  greaUH  apparent  good,  there  can  be  in  this  case  a  voli- 
tion, nay,  a  series  of  volitionS)  contrary  to  the  ^eatest  apparent 
good :  a  good,  infinitely  outweighing  that,  by  which  these  volitions 
are  supposed  to  be  excited  ?     I  say  this  good  is  momentary,  be- 
cause the  subjects  of  perdition,  immediately  after  entering  upon 
their  sufferings,  hate,  and  oppose,  the  glory  of  God  throughout 
eternity.     Wnatever  good,  therefore,  the  Christian  can  enjoy  in 
glorifying  his  Creator,  he  can  enjoy  only  during  the  present  life. 

It  ought  to  be  observed,  that  the  Resignation^  here  required  of 
the  Chnstian,  extends  infinitely  beyond  that,  which  was  required 
of  Christ  himself.  He  was  required  to  undergo  only  finite  and 
temporary  sufferings.  The  Christian  is  here  required  to  be  wil- 
lilie  to  under^  innnite  sufferings.  The  sufferings  of  Christ  were, 
a&d  he  knew  they  were,  to  be  rewarded  with  infinite  glory  and 
happiness.  Those  of  the  Christian  are  only  to  terminate,  daily, 
in  mcreasing  shame,  sin,  and  wo,  for  ever.  Christ/or  ihejoy  set 
before  himy  endured  the  cross  and  despised  the  shame.  There  is  no 
joy  set  before  the  Christian. 

Ai  a  rule  of  determining  whether  we  are  Christians^  or  not^  it 
would  seem,  that  hardly  any  supposable  one  could  be  more  un- 
happy.    If  we  should  allow  the  doctrine  to  be  sound,  and  scrip- 
tural ;  it  will  not  be  pretended,  that  any,  unless  very  emment, 
saints  arrive  at  the  possession  of  this  spirit  in  such  a  degree,  as  to 
be  satisfied^  that' they  are  thus  resigned.    None  but  these,  there- 
fSm)  will  be  able  to  avail  themselves  of  the  evidence  derived  fix)m 
this  source*    To  all  others,  the  rule  will  be  not  only  useless,  but 
in  a  high  degree  perplexing,  and  filled  with  discouragement.     To 
be-thus  resigned  will,  to  say  the  least,  demand  a  vigour  and  energy 
of  piety,  not  often  found.     Rules  of  self-examination,  incompara- 
bly plainer,  and  nK>re  easy  of  application,  are  given  us  in  the 
Soriptures,  fitted  for  all  persons,  and  for  all  cases.     Why,  with 
thoie  in  our  possession,  we  should  re;sort  to  this,  especially  when 
Hit  -noirhere  found  m  the  Sacred  Volume,  it  would  be  diffTcult  to 


s 


■ 

explain.    Yet,  if  tUs  is  not  the  practioal  use,  to  be  made  of  this 
doctrine,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  assign  to  it  any  use  at  aftr . 

The  Resignation  of  the  Scriptures,  as  I  have  before  observed, 
is  either  a  cheerful  submission  to  the  evils,  which  we  actually  suf> 
for,  or  a  general,  undefinable  preparation  of  mind  to  suffer  such 
otl^rs,  as  God  may  choose  to  mflict.  In  the  Bible  this  spirit  is,  I  '^ 
believe,  never  referred  to  any  evils,  which  exist  beyond  the  erave^ 
If  this  remaric  be  just,  as  I  think  it  will  be  found,  tnere  can  be  np 
benefit  in  extending  the  subject  farther  than  it  has  been  extended 
by  Revelation.  If  1  mistake  npt,  every  good  consequence,  ex^ 
pected  teom  the  doctrine,  whibh  I  have  opposed,  will  be  derived 
Dom  the  Resignation  here  described :  while  the  mind  will  be  dis« 
embarrassed  of  the  very  numerous,  and  very  serious,  difficultieS|  ' 
wUch  are  inseparable  from  the  doctrine  in  question* 

3dly*  Resignatianf  as  here  described^  ii  an  indisprnMoble  duty  cf 

The  Government  of  God,  even  in  this  melancholy  world,  is  the 
result  of  his  perfect  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness.  Now  nothing* 
is  more  evident,  than  that  the  government,  which  flows  from  such 
a  source,  must  be  absolutdy  right ;  or  in  other  words,  must  be 
what  perfect  wisdom  and  virtue,  in  us,  would  certainly  and  entire- 
ly approve.  To  be  resigned  to  such  a  government,  therefore, 
woola  be  a  thing  of  course,  were  we  perfectlv  wise  and  virtuous. 
But  what  this  character  would  prompt  us  to  oo,  it  is,  now,  our  in* 
dbpensable  duty  to  do. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  only,  nor  the  most  affecting,  view, 
which  we  are  able  to  take  of  the  subject.  The  Govenunent  ci 
God  in  (his  world  is  a  scheme  of  Mercy ;  the  most  glorious  exhibi- 
tion, which  can  exist,  of  Infinite  Goodness.  Unless  our  own  per- 
verseness  prevent,  the  most  untoward,  the  most  afflicting,  dispen- 
sations, however  painful  in  themselves,  are  really  fitted  in  the  oest 
manner  to  promote  our  best  interests.  We  know,  says  Su  Pmd. 
thai  ail  ikingt  do  ioarik,'or,  as  in  the  Greek,  labour  together  for  good" 
to  them  that  love  God. 

"Good,^' says  JIfr.  Hcn)«y, 

M  Good,  when  H«  gives,  supremely  good, 
Nor  less,  when  he  denies ; 
fiyen  crosses  from  his  sov*reign  hand 
Are  bliMsings  in  disgaise.** 

Sorely  in  such  a  state  of  things  it  must  be  the  natural,  the  mstinc- 
tive,  conduct  of  Piety  to  acc;[uiesce  in  dispensations  of  this  nature* 
Under  the  afflictions  which  it  demands,  and  which  of  coarse  it  can- 
sot  but  involve,  we  may,  and  must,  at  times  smart ;  as  a  child  un« 
der  the  rod,  when  admmistered  by  the  most  affectionate  Parental 
hand :  but  like  children,  influenced  by  filial  piety,  we  shall  receive 
(he  chastening  with  resignation  and  love. 

3dly«  BesygneUion  it  also  a  moat  profitable  duty. 


-i, 


I 


i 


lOt  BSnONAlKm.  [SEILZCr. 

^e  profit  of  thiB  spirit  is  the  increase,  which  it  always  brings,  of 
virtue  and  happiness.  Oar  pride  and  passion,  by  which  we  are 
naturally,  and  of  choice,  governed,  conduct  us  only  to  guilt  and  suf- 
fering. So  long  as  tholr  dominion  over  us  continues,  we  daily  be- 
come more  sinful,  and  more  miserable,  as  children  become  during 
the  continuance  of  their  rebellion  against  their  parents*  The  first 
Step  towards  peace,  comfort,  or  hope,  in  this  case,  is  to  attain  a 
quiet,  submissive  spirit.  That  Goa  will  order  the  things  of  the 
world  as  we  wish,  ignorant  and  sinful  as  we  are,  cannot  be  for  a 
moment  believed.  The  only  resort,  which  remains  for  us,  there- 
fore, is  to  be  satisfied  with  what  he  actually  does ;  and  to  believe, 
that  what  he  does  is  wise  and  good,  and,  if  we  will  permit  it,  wise 
and  good  for  t».  To  be  able  to  say.  Thy  will  be  aont^  says  Dr. 
Foting,  '^will  lay  the  loudest  storm;"  whether  oi  passion  within, 
or  affliction  without. 

Children,  when  they  have  been  punished,  are  often,  and,'if  du- 
tifiil  cMldren,  always  more  affectionate,  and  dutiful,  and  amiable, 
Iban  before.  Just  such  is  the  character  of  the  children  of  God, 
lAen  they  exercise  Evangelical  Hesitation  under  his  chastenins 
hand.  Eveiy  one  of  them,  like  Davtdy  finds  it  good  for  khnstlf^ 
Ikff  he  hoi  leen  afflicted  ;  an  increase  of  his  comfort ;  an  ucrease 
of  his  virtue  and  loveliness. 

As  this  disposition  regards  events  not  yet  come  to  pass,  its  efifects 
are  of  the  same  desirable  nature.  For  thjs  wisdom  and  goodness, 
the  fitness  and  beneficial  tendency,  of  all  that  is  future,  the  pious 
mmd  will  rely  with  a  steadj^  confidence  on  the  perfect  character  of 
God.  With  this  reliance  it  will  regularly  believe,  that  diere  it 
eood  interwoven  with  all  the  real,  as^well  as  apparent,  evil,  which 
m>m  time  to  time  may  take  place.  With  this  habitual  disposition 
in  exercise,  the  resigned  man  will  be  quiet  and  satisfied,  or  at  least 
supported,  when  others  are  borne  down ;  and  filled  with  hope  and 
comfort,  when  worldly  men  sink  in  despair.  All  that  dreadful  train 
of  fears,  distresses,  and  hostilities,  which,  like  a  host  of  besiegers, 
assault  the  unresiened,  and  sack  dieir  peace,  he  will  have  finally 
put  to  flight.  Safety  and  serenity  have  entered  the  soul :  and  the 
Spirit  of  truth  has  there  found  a  permanent  mansion.  Whatever 
evils  still  remain  in  it,  his  delightful  influence  gradually  removes, 
•8  cold,  and  frost,  and  snow,  vanish  before  the  beams  of  the  vernal 
flon.  He  will  yield  God  his  own  place  and  province,  and  rejoice 
that  his  throne  is  prepared  in  the  heavens^  and  that  his  kingdom  it 
over  all.  His  own  station  he  will  at  the  same  time  cheerfully  take 
with  the  spirit  of  a  dutiful  and  faithfiil  subject,  or  an  ol)e<Sent 
child ;  and  confide  in  the  divme  Wisdom  for  such  allotments  as  are 
best  suited  to  make  him  virtuous,  useful,  and  happy.  In  this  man- 
ner he  will  disarm  afflictions  of  their  sting,  and  deprive  temptations 
of  their  danger,  and  his  spiritual  enemies  of  tneir  success,  by 
quietly  comoutting  himself  and  his  interests  to  the  cUsposal  of  his 


-^ 


*   » 


•>•* 


•4     /• 


4»^. 


xcr.] 


KBSIQNATION. 


IM 


Maker*  In  this  manner  he  will  become  effectoaUy  prepared  for 
that  glorious  and  happy  world,  in  which  fSi  these  evils  irill  have 
passed  awa^f  and  be  sucteeded  by  a^^^lwi  divine,  and  etemaL 
train  of  eniojrments.  In  this  manner  the  work  rf Righteousness^  '. 
Ub  mind  will  hepeace^  and  the  effect  of  .  Righteousness^  jmetness^  om 
kisumnee  for  ever. 


'•      V- 


•  ♦ 


.■^' 


"  I 


^. 


4 
■4' 


SERMON  XCYL 

TBB  LAW,  Of  dOD*— -THE  SBCOKD  ORB  AT  C0MMAB9«BVT«— 4i0fB 

TO  OUR  VEIOHBOUR* 


MAMKT^Bl^F^-AnitheteeonditHke;  namely  thu;  Thouahali  hot  thy  migkbtm 
at  thytitf,    Tkert  it  none  other  eommtmdtneni  greaier  them  Uut$ 

In  several  precediDg  discourses,  I  have  considered  the  great  da- 

ties  of  Love^  Reverence,  and  Humility,  towards  God,  and  Jitngtuh 

turn  to  his  will ;  and  given  a  summary  account  of  the  other  duties  of 

.  Piety.    I  shall  now  proceed  to  an  examination  of  the  Second  Com' 

mand* 

In  this  precept,  we  are  required  to  love  our  Jfeighbour  as  omt* 
selves.    In  canvassing  the  duty,  here  enjobed,  I  shdl  consider, 

L  ItsJfature}  an(^ 

n.  Its  Extent. 

I.  /  shall  make  a  few  observations  concerning  the  Jfature  Oj 
d/uitu 

Before  I  proceed  direcdy  to  this  subject,  it  will  be  proper  to  i 
mind  my  audience,  that,  in  the  discourse  concerning  JLove,  conaid* 
ered  as  anAttendani  of  Regeneration,  I  exhibited  it  at  length  as  a 
disinterested  disposition;  and,  in  this  particular  view,  exhibited  iff 
Kature,  so  feir  as.is  necessary  to  this  system.  Nothing  further  wQI 
be  needed  under  this  head,  except  an  explanation  of  the  degree^  in 
which  we  are  required  to  love  our  neighbour,  expressed  in  tht 
words  as  thyself. 

This  phraseology  has  been  very  differendy  understood  by  dif- 
ferent persons.  Some  have  supposed  it  to  contain  a  direction* 
that  we  should  love  our  neighbour  with  the  same  kind  ofLove^mUai 
is  exercised  towards  ourselves.  This  plainly  cannot  be  its  mean* 
ing.  The  love,  which  we  usually  ana  naturally  exercise  towards 
ourselves,  is  selfish  and  sinful,  ouch  a  love,  as  this,  may  be,  and 
4>ften  ia,  exercised  towards  our  children,  and  other  darling  connex* 
ions ;  and  wherever  it  exists,  is,  of  course,  sinful ;  and  cannot, 
therefore,  have  been  conunanded  by  God*  At  the  same  tune,  it  is 
phvsically  impossible,  that  we  should  exercise  it  towards  our 
tcllow-creatures  at  laivt;  the  real  objects  of  the  affection  required 
in  the  text;  as  I  shall  fa^vt  occasion  to  show  under  th#  second 
head.  Others  have  insisted,  thai  we  are  required  to  love  them  in 
lAe  same  manner^  as  ourselves.  This  cannot  be  the  meaning.  For 
we  love  ourselves  inordinateljr ;  unreasonably ;  without  candotVi 
Qt  ecpii^ ;  even  when  the  bnd  of  Love  is  really  EvangeliciL 


XC¥L]  LOVE  TO  ODSL  NEIOlfBOOB.  HI 

Others,  still,  have  supposed,  that  the  copunand  obliges  us  to  love 
our  neighbour  in  exactly  the  same  degree  in  which  we  ought  to  love 
ourselves.  This  interpretation,  though  nearer  the  truth  than  the 
others,  is  not,  I  apprehend,  altogether  aereeaUe  to  the  genuine 
meaning  of  the  text.  It  has,  if  I  mistake  not,  been  heretofore 
shown  satisfactorily,  that  we  are,  in  our  very  nature,  capable  of 
understanding,  realizing,  and  feeUng,  whatever  pertains  to  our- 
selves more  entirely,  than  the  same  things,  when  pertaining  to 
others ;  that  our  own  concerns  are  committed  to  us  by  God  m  a 

Seculiar  manner  j  that  God  has  made  it  in  a  peculiar  manner  our 
uty  to  provide  for  our  own;  especially  for  those  of  our  ozon  house-- 
holds;  and  that,  thus,  a  regara  to  ourselves,  ana  those  who  dixt 
ours,  is  our  duty  in  a  peculiar  degree.  To  these  things  it  mav  b^ 
justly  added,  tliat  we  are  not  bound  to  love  all  those,  included  un- 
der the  word  neighbour,  in  the  same  degree.  Some  of  these  per- 
sons are  plainly  of  much  greater  importance  to  mankind,  than 
others ;  are  possessed  of  greater  talents,  of  higher  excellence,  and 
of  more  usefulness.  Whether  we  make  their  I^ppiness,  or  their 
excellence,  the  oWect  of  our  love ;  in  other  words,  whether  we 
regard  them  with  Benevolence,  or  Complacency ;  we  ought  plainly 
to  make  a  difference,  and  often  a  wide  one,  between  them;  because 
they  obviously,  and  exceodindy,  differ  in  their  characters  and 
circumstances.  A  great,  excellent,  and  useful  man,  such  as  St. 
Paul  was,  certainly  claims  a  higher  decree  of  love  from  us,  than  a 
person  totally  inferior  to  him  in  these  characteristics. 

Besides,  ii  this  rule  of  entire  equality  had  been  intended  in  the 
command,  we  ought  certainly  to  have  been  enabled,  m  the  natural 
Mfue,  to  perform  mis  duty.  6ut  it  is  perfectly  evident,  that  no  man, 
however  well  disposed,  can  exactly  measure,  on  all  occasions,  the 
degree  of  love,  exercised  by  him  towards  his  neighbour,  or  to- 
wards lumself ;  or  determine,  in  many  cases,  whetner  he  has,  or 
has  not,  loved  himself  and  his  neighbour  in  the  same  degree.  It 
is  plain  therefore,  that,  according  to  this  scheme,  we  cannot,  how- 
ever well  inclined,  determine  whether  we  do,  or  do  not,  perform 
our  daty.  But  it  is  incredible,  th^t  God  should  make  this  conduct 
oar  duty  ;  and  yet  leave  us,  in  the  natural  sense,  wholly  unable  to 
perform  it* 

For  these  and  various  other  reasons  I  am  of  opinion,  that  the 
precept  in  the  text  requires  us  to  love  our  neighbour^  generally ,  and 
uukfinitelyj  as  ojJirselves.  The  love,  which  we  exercise  towards- 
him,  is  ever  to  be  the  same  in  kind,  which  we  ought  to  exercise 
towards  ourselves  ;  regarding  both  ourselves  and  him  as  members 
of  the  intelligent  kingdom ;  as  interested,  substantially,  in  the  same 
manner,  in  the  divine  favour;  as  in  the  same  manner  cs^pable  of 
liappness,  moral  excellence,  and  usefulness ;  of  being  instruments 
of  glory  to  €rod,  and  of  good  to  our  fellow-creatures;  as  being 
originally  interested  alike  in  the  death  of  Christ,  and,  with  the 
general  probability,  heirs  of  eternal  life.    This  explanadm 


1)9  £OTS  TO  OUR  NEIOHOBOUR.  [8DLXCTI. 


•t  t 


seems  to  be  exactly  accordant  with  the  language  of  the  text.  At 
does  not  alwajrs  denote  exact  equality.  Frequendy  it  mdicates 
equality  in  a  general,  indefinite  sense  \  and,  not  u^frequendy,  a 
strong  resemblance,  approximating  towiards  an  equality.  Tnere 
is  no  proof,  that  it  intends  an  exact  equality  in  the  text. 

In  many  cases ;  for  example  in  most  cases  of  commutatiye  jus- 
tice, and  m  many  of  distributiye  justice ;  it  is  in  our  power  to  ren- 
der to  others',  exacdy,  that  which  we  render  to  ourselves.  Here, 
I  apprehend,  exactness  becomes  the  measure  of  our  duty.  The 
love,  which  I  have  here  described,  is  evidently  disinterested  ;  and 
would,  in  our  own  case,  supply  motives  to  our  conduct  so  numer- 
ous, and  so  powerful,  as  to  render  selfish  affections  useless  to  us. 
Selfishness,  therefore,  is  a  principle  of  action  totally  unnecessary 
to  intelligent  beings,  as  sucn ;  even  for  their  own  benefit. 

11.  Tne  Love^  htrt  reqidredy  extends  to  the  whole  hUelligeni 
Creation. 

This  position  I  shall  illustrate  by  the  following  observations : 

1st.  TTiat  it  extends  to  our  Families^  FHends,  and  Cwmtrt/nun^ 
^  will  not  he  questioned.  . 

2dljr.  That  it  extends  to  our  Enemies^  and  bjf  consequence  to  alt 
Mankind^  is  decisively  taught  Ay  our  Saviour  in  a  variety  of  Scr^ 
iural  passages.  Ye  have  heard,  that  it  hath  been  said^  Thou  shali 
love  thy  neighbour j  and  hate  thine  enemy.  But  1  say  unto  you^ 
Love  your  m»mies  ;  bless  them  that  curse  you ;  do  good  to  them 
that  hate  yoiif  and  pray  for  them  who  despitefully  use  you,  Ondper^ 
sectUe  youj  That  ye  may  be  the  children  of  your  Father^  who'ts  in 
heaven :  for  he  maketh  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  evilj  and  on  the^  good} 
and  sendeth  rain  on  the  justy  and  on  the  unjust.  Matt.  v.  43,  &c. 
And  again ;  For  if  ye  love  them  who  love  you,  what  thank  have  ye  f 
for  sinners  also  love  those  that  love  them.  But  I  say  unto  ysiji,  Jov^ 
ye  your  enemies  }  and  do  good,  and  lend  ;  hoping  for  nothing  again  : 
and  your  reward  shall  be  great :  and  ye  shall  be  called  the  children 
of  the  Highest.  Luk^  vi.  32,  35.  The  term,  neighbour,  in  this 
precept,  is  explained  by  Christ,  at  the  request  of  a  Scribe,  in  the 

J)arable  of  the  ^ood  Samaritan :  Luke  x.  25  :  and,  with  unrivalled 
brce,  and  irresistible  conviction,  is  ^hown  to  include  the  worst  and 
bitterest  enenlies.  Concerning  this  subject  the  Scriptures  haye 
left  no  room  for  debate.  ' 

At  the  same  time,,  it  cannot  but  be  satisfactory,  and  useful,  to 
examine  this  subject,  as  it  appears  in  its  nature,  and  is  connected 
with  other  kindred  moral  suojects. 

It  is  well  known,  that  the  Pharisees  held  the  doctrine,  that, 
while  we  were  bound  to  love  our  neighbour,  that  is,  our  fi^iends,  it 
was  lawful  to  hate  our  enemies*.    It  is  equally  well  known,  tfaat^ 
multitudes  in  every  succeeding  age  have  imbibea  the  same  doctrine; ' 
and  that  in  our  own  age,  and  land,  enlightened  as  we  are  by  the 
sunshine  of  the  Gospel,  there  are  not  wanting  multitudes,  w* 
adopt  the  same  doctnne ;  and  insist,  not  only  tli^t  they  may  U 


80L  XCfL]  UO/fK  TO  OUR  IfEIOHBQDB.  Hg 

fkUy  hate  tkeir  enemieS|  but,  also,  reveDge  themselves  on  such^  as 
have  injured  them,  with  violent  and  extreme  retribution. 

On  this  subject  I  observe,      - 

1st.  JTuU  tke  ctmimandj  to  hve  our  entmiesy  u  enforced  by  tht 
Example  ofGodm 

This  18  the  very  argument,  used  to  enforce  this  precept  by  our 
Saviour*  Love  ye  your  enemUi }  and  do  good  to  them  that  haU 
you :  4md  ye  thau  he  called  the  children  6/  the  Highest :  for  he  i$ 
Kind  to  the  evil  and  unthankful.  Be  ye  therefore  merciful^  as  your 
Fatherj  tsho  is  in  heaven^  is  merdfid.  The  example  of  Qod  is 
possessed  of  infinite  authority.  We  see  in  it  the  conduct,  which 
infinite  perfection  dictates,  and  in  which  it  delights ;  and  learn  the 
rules  ofactioB,  by  which  it  is  pleased  to  govern  itself*  All  that  is 
thus  dictated,  and  done,  is  supremely  right  and  good.  If  we  widi 
ovr  own  conduct  to  be  right  and  ^ood ;  we  shall  become /bZ/overt 
ofGodyOs  dear  children^  in  all  his  imitable  conduct,  and  particu- 
larly in  that,  which  is  so  stronely  commended  to  our  imitation. 
Qinst  also,  who  has  presented  to  our  view  in  his  own  life  the 
conduct  of  God,  in  sucn  a  manner,  as  to  be  more  thoroughly  un- 
derstood, and  more  easilv  copied  by  us,  has  in  his  prayer  for  his 
morderers,  while  suspended  on  the  cross,  enforced  the  precept  in 
the  text  with  unrivalled  energy.  Nothing  could  with  greater 
power,  or  more  commanding  loveliness,  require  us  to  go  and  do 
Ukemise* 

To  hate  our  enemies  is  dir^tly  opposed  to  the  authority,  and 
the  glonr,  of  these  examples.  Tiie  examples  are  divinely  excel- 
lent and  lovely :  the  conduct  opposed  to  mem  is,  of  course,  alto* 
gether  vik  and  hateful.  Accordingly,  this  conduct  is  exhibited  to 
OS  for  the  purpose  of  commending  the  same  precept,  also,  to  our 
obedieaia,  as  the  conduct  of  the  worst  of  men.  These  love  their 
fiaends^  and  hate  their  enemies ;  even  publicans  and  sinners  do  this ; 
and  allf  who  do  this,  and  nothbg  more,  bear  a  moral  resemblance 
to  PuUkans  and  sinners. 

Stdljm  ^  we  are  hound  to  love  those  only^  who  are  friends  to  uSj 
me  art  mndor  no  obligation  to  love  Qod,  any  longer  than  while  he  is 
o$r  frieniL 

If  w^iire  not  bound  to  love  our  enemies ;  whenever  God  be- 
comes aoi  eoemv  to  us,  we  are  not  bound  to  love  Him.  Of  course, 
those  wbo  are  finallv  condenined,  are  fieed  from  all  obligation  to 
lore  God,  because  ne  is  their  enemy.  In  refusinj^  to  love  hini^ 
therefofe,  they  are  euilty  of  no  sin ;  but  are  thus  far  perfectly  in- 
nocent, and  perfecuy  excellent ;  because  they  do  that,  which  is 
perieetly  rijj^  Neither  the  happiness^  nor  the  excellence,  of 
God  fimiishea  any  reason,  according  to  this  scheme,  whv  we  should 
regard  him  either  with  benevolence  or  complacency,  in  the  same 
■WVif^  every  person,  in  the  present  world,  can,  by  committing 
A^ppeidoiiabie  sin,  release  nimself  from  all  obligation  to  love 
l.jflKka*$  becauise  in  this  manner  he  renders  God  his  enemj. 
rj^bcTui.  16 


jS- 


114  IiOVE  TO  OUR  NEIQHBOUB.  [8EB.  XCTL 

*  .  ^  ^ 

In  the- same  manner,  eVenr  person,  under  a  sentence  of  reptoba* 
^tion,  is  released  from  his  oohgation  to  love  God ;  and  persons  of 
both  these  characters  are  thenceforth  entirely  innocent  and  un- 
blameable*  According  to  this  doctrine  also,  sinners  can,  and  do, 
continually  lessen  their  obligation  to  love  God,  in  proportion  as 
,,  they  make  him  more  and  more  angry  with  them  day  b^  day.  By 
advaocihe,  therefore,  in  a  course  ov  opposition  and  disobedience 
to  God,  they  advance  yiearer  and  nearer  to  anttriblameable  life  and 
character. 

"Sdly.  According  to  this  doctrine^  good  men  are  not  boundj  mar' 
Unary  caies^  to  love  sinners. 

Tliat  sinners  are,  ordinarily,  enemies  to  good  men,  will  not  be 
questioned :  that  they,  often,  are  very  bitter  enemies,  cannot  be  de- 
lved.. If,  then,  this  doctrine  be  true ;  good  men  are,  plainly,  not 
bound  to  love  them,  nor,  of  course,  to  befriend  them;  to  relieve 
^leir  distresses ;  to  promote  their  happiness ;  nor  to  seek  their 
salvation. 

4thly.  Recording  to  this  doctrine,  sinners  are  not,  ordinarily,  ^otmd 
,  to  love  each  other. 

Sinners  are  not  only  enemies  to  good  men,  but  to  each  other. 
In  every  such  case,  they  are  relieved  from  all  obligations  to  love 
each  other ;  and  so  long  as  they  continue  to  be  enemies,  are  justi- 
fied not  only  in  the  sight  of  man,  but  in  the  sight  of  God  also,  m 
withholding  their  love,  and  the  expression  of  it,  from  each  other. 

Let  us  now,  for  a  moment,  attend  to  the  necessary,  and  ]nracti- 
cal,  consequences  of  this  doctrine.  A  moral  being,  whose  motal 
conduct  is  such,  as  to  justify  us  in  withholding  our  love  froM  hkaa^ 
cannot  be  regarded  with  indifference;  but  must  of  coani^  be 
hated ;  and,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  may  justifiably  be  hated,  because 
his  character  is  really  hateful.  But  if  it  be  right  to  hate  our  ene- 
mies, it  is  undoubtedly  right  to  exhibit  bur  hatred  of  them  in  its  pio» 
er  expressions;  such  as  censure,  punishment,  and  hostilities* 
In  this  principle,  mankind  would  contend  with  each  other,  in  their 
public  and  private  controversies,  on  the  ground,  that  it  was  rieht; 
oecause  it  was  dictated  by  conscience,  and  not  merely  by  pas8ion# 
He,  wlio  beheld  an  enemy,  would  be  justified  in  hating  him ;  and 
he,  who  was  thus  hated,  would,  on  the  same  ground,  be  justi^d  m 
reciprocating  the  hatred.  To  express  this  justifiable  hatred  m 
quarrels  would  be  equally  acccMrcUt  with  rectitude ;  and  men 
would  fight  each  other,  on  a  new  basis  of  principle.  Revenge 
would  be  accounted  doing  Ctod  set^e.  The  persecutor,  burning 
with  rage  against  the  miserable  victims  of  his  cruelty,  exulting  in 
his  successfiil  ravages  of  Mmian  happiness,  and  smiline  over  the 
tortures  of  the  rack,  atid  the  agonies  of  the  flame,  would  with  new 
confidence  say,  "^  Let  the  Lord  be  glorified.''  War,  instead  of 
being  the  conflict  of  pride,  avarice,  ambition,  and  wrath,  would  be 
changed  into  an  unive^^sal  crusade  of  piety :  and  new  Mohammedl 
would  stalk  through  the  worid,  to  execute  righteousness  bf 


^ 


\* 


9 


1  .  • 

8ER.  XCVI.]  LOVE  TO  OUR  IfEIGHBOUR.  ]]5 . 

batcherv,  and  plant  truth  with  the  sword*  Every  national  contest 
would  become  a  war  of  extermination.  Every  land  would  be 
changed,  by  a  professed  spirit  of  righteousness,  into  a  mere  field 
of  slaughter;  and  every  age,  by  the  mere  dictates  of  conscience, 
converted  into  a  period  of  unmineled  and  immeasurable  wo. 

The  contrary  principle,^  in  good  men,  wherever  they  are  found, 
is  an  extensive  source  of  the  peace  and  comfort,  actually  eojoy*  * 
ed  in  this  unhappy  vbild :  and  its  influence-  on  the  consciences  , 
even  of  wicked  men  is  such,  as  to  effectual  no  small  quiet  and 
comfort  for  themselves  and  others ;  and  to  prevent  mucn  of  the 
evil,  naturally  flowing  from  this  pernicious  doctrine. 

But  the  one  half  of  the  story  is  not  yet  told.  Had  God  adopt- 
ed this  doctrine  as  the  rule  of  his  own  conduct,  what  would,  long 
since,  have  become  of  mankind  ?  Sinners  never  love  God ;  but 
always  hate  him ;  and  of  consequence  rebel  against  his  govern- 
ment, violate  his  law,  and  oppose  his  designs.  In  other  words, 
they  are  uniformly,  and  unceasindy,  his  enemies.  Had  God, 
then,  been  governed  by  this  principle ;  had  he  hated  his  enemies , 
nay,  had  h^  exercised  no  love,  tenderness,  or  compassion,  for 
them;  he  must  immediately  have  exerted  his  infinite  power,  to  . 
render  them  only,  and  eternally,  miserable.  In  this  case,  no 
scheme  of  Redemption  would  ever  have  been  formed  for  our  miser- 
able race  by  the  infinite  Mind.  The  compassionate  and  glorious 
Redeemer,  instead  of  becoming  incarnate,  instead  of  living  and 
^ng  for  sinners,  would  have  clad  himself  only.  ZDith  vengeance  09 
&  doak;  and  arrayed  himself  with  anger  as  a  robe  and  a  diadem* 
bttlefli^  of  ascending  the  cross,  and  enterine  the  tomb,  he  would 
mereif  have  trcdden  the  toin^'prfss  alone,  anairatnpled  the  people  in 
kit  fury m  Their  blood  would  have  been  sprinkled  on  his  garments j 
ana  stained  all  his  raiment.  The  day  of  vengeance,  only,  would 
have  been  in  his  heart ;  and  the  year  of  his  redeemed  would  have 
nerer  camsm 

No  sun  would  now  rise  tpon  the  unjust :  no  rain  descend  upon  the 
ml  and  unthankful.  The  Word  of  life  would  never  have  been 
revealed  to  mankmd.  The  Sabbath,  with  its  serene,  peaceful,  iand 
dieering  beams,  would  never  have  dawned  upon'  this  melancholy 
wcrid ;  nor  th^  Sanctuary  unfolded  its  doors,  that  sinners  might 
enter  in,  and  be  saved.  The  voice  of  Mercy  would  never  have 
been  heard  within  its  hallowed  walls. .  God  would  never,  with  in- 
finiCe  tenderness,  have  called  rebels  and  apostates  to  faith,  repent- 
ance, ^nd  holiness,  in  the  Lord  Jesiis  Christ ;  nor  profiered  par- 
don, and  peace,  to  the  returning  penitent. 

Heaven  would  never  have  opened  thA  gates  of  life  and  glory  to 
this  ruined  world.  The  general  assembly  of  the  first-iom  would 
never  have  been  gathered;  nor  would  thiat  divine  lungdom,  which 
shall  for  ever  increase  in  its  peace  and  prosperity,  its  virtue  and 
glkrjr,  ever  have  begun* 


lis  MVXl  XO  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  (jNER.  XCVL 

-The  fairest  aXtribute,  the  peculii^  tecellence,  of  the  Godhead, 
thb  divine  Mercy,  would  neitoer  have  been  unfolded,  nor  existed. 
Angels  would  never  have  sung,  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest  ^  peace 
on  earthy  and  good-will  towards  men.  On  the  contrary,  sin  with- 
out bounds,  and  misery  without  end)  would  have  reigned  with  an 
uninterrupted  and  eternal  dominion  over  all  the  mmions  of  the 
race  ef  Adam. 

From  these  considerations  it  is  unanswerably  erfdent,  that  all 
Mankind  are  mcluded  under  the  word  neighbourm 

3dly.  This  term^  of  course,  extends  to  all  otlur  IniettigmU  beings^ 
so  far  as  they  are  capakU  of  being  objects  of  love  ^  or,  in  otber 
words,  so  far  as  they  are  capable  of  being  happy* 

To  desue  the  happiness  of  beings  wbo  cannot  be  happy,  is  to 
exercise  our  affections  in  vain.  To  desire  the  happiness  of  those, 
whom  God  has  doomed  for  their  sins  to  everlasting  suffering,  is  to 
oppose  his  known,  declared  will.  But  even  in  these  extreme 
cases,  it  is,  I  apprehend,  our  duty  to  feel  a  general  spirit  of  bene* 
volence  towards  the  miserable  sufferers.  God  has  informed  up, 
that  he  has  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked.  It  is  umjoubted- 
hr  right,  and  proper,  for  us  to  experience  the  same  disposition* 
This  doctrine  may  be  illustrated  in  the  following  manner.  Were 
we  to  receive  tidings  from  God,  that  these  unhappy  beings  would, 
at  some  future  period,  be  restored  to  holiness  and  happiness; 
every  beine,  under  the  influence  of  this  lovey  would  rejoice  with 
inexpressible  joy ;  and  would  find,  that,  instead  of  indulging  en- 
mity towards  them,  he  had  ever  been  ready  to  exercise  a  benevo- 
Ibnt  concern  for  their  welfare. 

That  virtuous  beings,  throughout  the  universe,  are  proper  ob- 
jects of  this  love,  will  hardly  be  disputed.  Of  these  oeings,  an- 
[els  only  are  known  to  us ;  and  their  character,  as  unfolded  in  the 
'  :riptures,  is  a  complete  proof  of  this  position.  To  mankind  they 
are  related,  merely,  as  intelligent  creatures  of  the  same  God.  Yet 
they  cheerfully  become  ministering  spirits  for  the  benefit  of  men ; 
inhabitants  of  a  distant  world ;  of  the  humblest  inteUijgenJ  clmr- 
actcr;  enemies  to  their  Creator;  and  enemies  to  themsewes.  Such 
an  example  decides  this  point  without  a  comment. 

4thly«  The  Love,  required  in  this  precept,  extends,  in  its  Optro^ 
turns,  to  all  the  good  offices,  which  vse  are  capable  of  rendering  le 
others. 

The  benevolence,  enjoined  b^  God,  is,  as  was  fonnerly  obserr* 
ed^  an  active  principle,  prompting  those,  whom  it  controls,  to  ex- 
ert themselves  in  an  the  modes  of  beneficence  which  are  m  their 
power,  and  are  required  by  the  circumstances  of  their  fellow-meiu 
Infinitely  different  irom  the  cold  philanthropy  of  modem  philoso* 
pikers,  which  spends  itself  in  thoughts  and  words,  in  sighs  and  tears, 
itB  whole  tendency  is  to  employ  itself  b  the  solid  and  usefiil  acts  of 
kindness,  by  which  the  real  eood  of  others  is  efficaciously  prontfK 
ted.   This  philanthropy  ovenooks  the  objects  which  are  around  it^ 


irel 
§ci 


f 

8n.XCfU  I4KrE  W.  Qim  |fSIGSm|D%  117 

and  within  its  reach ;  and  eidumsts  itself  m  pitymg  sufferers  in  fcxN 
eien  lands,  and  distant  a^es :  sufferers,  so  distant,  as  to  be  inca- 
paole  of  receiving  relief  &om  any  supposable  beneficence,  which 
It  might  exercise.  These  are,  indeed,  most  conrenien^  objects  ol 
such  a  philanthropy.  For,  as  it  is  impossible  to  do  th^m  gpod. 
by  any  acts  of  kijMiness,  which  are  m  our  power,  we  naturally  fj^elf 
oursehres  released  firom  the  obligation  to  attempt  any  such  Sicta ; 
and  thus  enjof^  with  no  small  self-complacency,  the  ttti^^tion^ 
of  believing,  that,  although  we  do  no  good,  we  are  still  yfiFj  be^ 
nevolent ;  and  are  contented  with  thinung  over  the  ^opd,  which. 
we  would  do,  were  the  objects  of  our  bencjvolent  wis)>^  yritfiia 
our  reach*  It  is  reniarkable,  that  all  kindness  of  thiq  natfifj^  la  ar- 
dent and  vivid  upon  paper,  and  flourishes  thriftly  in  conversa^on ; 
but,  whenever  it  is  summoned  to  action  by  the  sight  of  those,  whx^ 
it  ou^ht  to befiiend,  it  languishes,  sickens,  andoies.  \U  ft^&t  » 
only  in  the  imagination ;  and  unfortunately  it  has  no  connexion 
either  with  the  purse,  the  hand,  or  the  heart.  In  the  same  man- 
ner, professed  nospitality  is  often  struck  dumb  by  the  arrival  of  a 
guest ;  and  boasted  patnotisxti,  at  the  appearance  of  a  proposed 
subscription  for  some  beneficial  public  purpose. 

Such  is  not  die  love  of  the  Gospel.  The  happiness  of  others  it.' 
its  original,  commanding  object;  and  the  promotion  of  that  happi- 
ness its  employment^  and  delight*  The  objects  for  whom,  and  toe 
manner  in  which,  it  is  to  be  employed,  are  felt  to  be  of  no  conse- 
quence, if  good  can  really  be  done.  The  kind  of  good  is  also  a 
matter  of  indifference ;  provided  it  be  real,  and  as  extensive,  at 
the  nature  of  the  case  will  admit. 

It  will  be  useful  to  illustrate  this  subject  in  a  miinber  of  particu? 
lars,  suflKcient  to  exhibit  its  tendency  and  ejLtent,  in  the  variety  of. 
its  operations. 

First.  T%e  Love^  reamred  in  thii  prtcept^  vnU.prfvmt  u§  fram^ 
^Uunlarily  injuring  others. 

Love  morketkno  ill  to  his  neighbour^  ther^orejovf  is  thi.jyjlfil' 
Ing  of  the  lawm  The  stress,  here  laid  upon  this  cliaractenstic  of . 
jore,  is  remarkable.  For  St.  Paul  declares,  th^at  for  this  rf^8(%a. 
it  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law.  We  are  not,  indeed,  to  uiuier^taQ^ 
that  this  is  the  only  reason ;  but  that  it  is  one  very  imp^jcfanl,  r^  . 
ton*  At  the  same  time  we  are  to  remenlber,  that  voluntajry.  bein^., 
who  do  no  ill,  always,  and  of  course,  do  good. 

From  this  characteristic  of  Evangelical  love  we  learp,,  that  those,. 
I    who  are  controlled  by  it,  cannot  be  the  authors  of  falsehood,  fi^i^^i^ 
slander,  sophistrv,  seduction,  pollution,  quarrels,  oppres^iop^  plun*,' 
der,  or  war.    All  these,  in  wnatever  degree  they  exist^  are,  red^^ 
sod  usually  are  rndX  iQJJJfies  to  others.    These,  therefiv^  aire  m.^ 
no  sense  fifuits  of  love.  They  may,  and  do  indeed,;  exist  in  greater, 
or  less  degrees,  in  the  minds,  and  lives,  of  those,  who  are  Hif^^ 
siAjects  ofit ;  but  it  is  because  th^ir  Jlpye,  is  partiial  and  ioiperfect* 
Were  this  spirit  to  beonne  the  univenal,  and  the  only,  cf^^^tjar. 


tl8  LOra  TO  OUR  NEIGHBOUB.  [SEB.  XCTl 

of  mankind;  what  a  mighty  mass  of  human  calamities  would  van- 
ish from  the  world ! 

Secondly.  Among  the  positive  ads  of  beneficence,  dictated  by 
the  love  of  the  Gospel,  (Ae  contribution  of  our  proptrty  forms  an 
mieresting  part.  To  feed  the  hungry,  to  clothe  the  naked,  and 
to  perform  other  acts,  generally  of  the  same  nature,  have  by  man- 
kind at  lar^e  been  esteemed  such  eminent  and  important  specimens 
of  this  spirit,  as  to  have  appropriated  to  themselves  the  very  name 
oi  Charily;  that  is,  ofiore;  to  the  exclusion  of  other  efforts,  not 
less  truly  benevolent.  They  are,  at  the  same  time,  accompanied, 
more  obviously  than  most  other  communications  of  beneficence, 
by  the  appearance  of  self-denial,  and  of  doing  good  without  refer- 
ence to  a  reward. 

But  although  acts  of  this  kind  are  peculiarly  amiable,  and  pe- 
culiarly respected,  they  are,  still,  no  more  really  dictated  bj 
Evangelical  love,  than  the  contribution  of  our  property  to  the  pur- 
poses of  hospitality,  to  the  support  of  schools  and  colleges,  the 
erection  of  churches,  the  maintenance  of  ministers,  and  the  sup- 
port of  government.  All  these  are  important  means  of  human  hap- 
piness ;  and  he,  who  does  not  cheerfully  contribute  to  them,  is 
either  ignorant  of  their  nature,  and  his  own  duty,  or  is  destitute  of 
Evangelical  benevolence. 

Thirdly.  Lovt  to  mirneigkbour  dictatts,  also,  evtry  other  oj^ct  oj 
kindntsa  ahich  may  promote  hisprestiU  vielfart. 

Under  this  extensive  head  are  comprehended  our  Instruction  of 
Others;  our  Advice;  our  Countenance;  our  reproof;  our  Sympathy 
with  them  in  their  joya  and  sorrows ;  those  which  are  called  our 
Civilities;  our  obligingness  of  deportment;  our  Defence  of  their 

Sood  name ;  our  Profeaaional  assistance ;  our  peculiar  efforts  for 
leir  relief  and  comfort,  on  occasions  which  peculiarly  demand'    i 
them  ;  and,  especially,  those  kind  offices,  which  arc  always  needed    1 
by  the  sick  and  the  afflicted.     The  tendency  of  love,  lite  that  ti  ■ 
the  needle  to  the  pole,  is  steadily  directed  to  the  promotion  of  hajy 
piness,  and  of  course  to  the  relief  of  distress.     The  cases  in  which    ' 
this  object  can  be  obtained,  and  the  modes  in  which  it  can  be  ac- 
complished, are  of  no  consequence  in  the  eye  of  Love.     It  only 
asks  the  questions,  how,  when,  and  where  good  can  be  donef 
When  these  are  satisfactorily  answered,  it  is  ever  ready  to  act 
with  vigour  and  efficacy,  to  the  production  of  any  good ;  except 
that  it  is  regularly  disposed  to  devote  its  labours,  especially,  to  that 
which  Is  especially  necessary.     As  its  sole  tendency  is  to  pro- 
mole  happiness;  it  is  evident,  that  it  cannot  but  be  ready  to  act  for 
this  end,  in  whatever  manner  may  be  in  its  power.     He,  therefopt 
who  is  willing  to  do  good  in  some  cases,  ana  not  in  others,  will  find 
little  reason  to  beUeve,  that  he  possesses  the  benevolence  of  the 
Gospel. 

Fourthly.  Lovt  to  our  neighbour  u  etpedally  directed  to  the  good 
ofhia  Minu. 


As  the  soul  is  of  more  worth  than  the  body ;  as  the  inlerests  of 
eternity  are  more  important  than  those  of  time ;  so  the  immortal 
concerns  of  man  demand,  proporiionally,  the  good-will,  and  the 
kind  offices, of  his  fellow-men.  In  disaharglng  the  duties,  created 
by  this  great  object  of  benevolence,  wc  arc  required  to  instruct, 
counsel,  reprove,  rebuke,  restrain,  encourage,  comfort,  support,  and 
invigorate  them,  so  far  as  it  shall  be  in  our  power.  We  are  abo 
bound  to  forgive  cheerfully  their  unkindncss  to  us;  to  bear  with  their 
frowardness  ;  to  endure  patiently  their  slowness  of  apprehension, 
(X  refonnaiion ;  and  to  repeat  our  efforts  for  their  good ;  as  we  have 
opportunity,  unto  the  end.  For  this  punpose  we  are  bound  to  hopt 
cojicenting  them,  so  long  as  hope  can  be  exercUed;  that  neither 
we,  nor  they,  may  be  discouraged ;  and  to  pray  for  them  uilhout 
ceating.  All  these  offices  of  kindness  arc  the  immediate  dictates  of 
Evangelical  Love.  He,  therefore,  who  does  not  perfonn  tliem  id 
tome  good  measure  at  least,  can  lay  no  claim  to  the  benevolence  of 
ibe  Gospel. 

REMARKS. 

IsU  FVom  ihtie  observations  it  is  evident,  that  the  Second  great 
Command  of  the  Moral  Law  is,  as  tl  is  expressed  in  the  ttxl,  likt  the 
lint. 

It  is  not  only  prescribed  by  the  same  authority,  and  possessed 
of  the  same  obligation,  unallerable  and  eternal ;  but  it  enjoins 
exactly  the  exercise  of  the  same  disposition.  The  Love,  required 
in  this  command,  is  exactly  the  same  which  is  required  in  the  first : 
a  single  character,  operating  now  towards  God,  and  now  towards 
our  lellow-crea lures.  Equally  does  it  resemble  the  first  in  its 
importance.  That  regulates  all  our  conduct  towards  God  ;  [bis 
towards  other  Intelligent  beings.  Each  is  of  infinite  importance ; 
each  is  absolutely  indispensable.  If  either  did  not  exist,  or 
were  not  obeyed  ;  a  total  and  dreadful  chasm  would  be  found  in 
the  virtue  and  happiness  of  the  universe.  United,  they  perfectly 
provide  for  both.  The  duly,  prescribed  in  the  first,  is  undoubt- 
edly first  in  order :  but  that,  prescribed  by  the  last,  is  no  less 
indispensable  to  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  the  Intelligent 
creation. 

2dly.   Pielj/  and  Morality  are  here  shov>n  to  be  inseparable. 

It  has,  I  trust,  been  satlafactoriiy  evinced,  that  the  love,  required 
in  the  divine  law,  is  a  single  disposition ;  indivisible  in  its  nature ; 
diverdfied,  and  distlngulsnabte,  only  as  exercised  toward  different 
objects.  When  exercised  towards  God,  it  is  called  Piety ;  when 
exercised  towards  mankind,  it  is  customarily  styled  Morality. 
Wherever  both  objects  are  known,  both  are  loveo  of  course  by 
every  one,  in  whom  this  disposition  exists.  He,  therefore,  who 
lores  not  God,  loves  not  man ;  and  he  who  does  not  love  man,  does 
am  love  God. 


ffQ  u/n  TO  oor' usioHBoim.   ^^     pbm  jcti 

m 

Sdlj*  Wt  here  tee,  thai  tlU  Hel^pontfthe  Ser^harei  i»  the  irue^ 
midmhf^iwrcfi  of  all  the  duties  of  Ufe.  .#: 

On  tne  ..obedience  of  the  jfirstand  gre&t  anunandment  18  found' 
ed  the  x>bedience  of  the  second :  and  on  these  two  hang  all  the 
Lorn  and  the  Prophets :  the  precepts  of  Christ,  and  the  instructions 
tof  the  Apostles.  Religion  commences  with  Love  to  God;  and 
tehninates  Inr  love  to  man.  Thus  begun,  and  thus  ended,  it  ih- 
tolves  eyef/'duijr;  and  pcodiices  evle^  action,  which  is  Devard- 
able,  praiscrwordiy,  or  ittefiil.  There  is  nothinf^^  which  ought  to 
|be  done,  wtdch  it  does  not  effectuate :  there  is  nodiii^  which 
'Mght  ilot  to  be  dome,  wliidiit  does  not  prevents  It  makes  Intel* 
Bgent  creatures  inrtuous  an^  excellent.  It  makes  manldnd  eood 
^parents  and  cMl^n,  good  husbands  and  wives,  good  brouiers 
and  sisters^  good  neighbours  and  friends,  good  rSlers  and  sub- 
jects; and  renders  families,  neighbourhoods,  and  States,  orderly. 
I^eaceful^  hanktonious,  and  happy. .  As  it  produces  the  punctnii 
performance  of  all  the  duties,  so  it  effectually  secures  aB  the  rigfatt| 
of  mankind.  For  rights,  y%uSf  arenothingf  but  just  elabns  to  Ae 
performance  of  duties  In/  oMti.  Thus  the  Religion  of  the  Scrip- 
torei  is  the  frotf  aiid  onhr  source  6t  safety,  pc^ce,  and  prosperity, 
l^tk^wtellL 


« 


SERMON  XCVII. 

TBI    LAW   or   OOD» THE    SECOND   GREAT    COMMANDMENT. THE 

BPFECTS    or   BENEVOLENCE   ON   PERSONAL    HAPPINESS. 


Acts  ii.  36.—/  hme  the%Dtd  you  ail  ihing$^  how  thai,  so  labouring,  ye  ought  fo  «li|p- 
p0rtlh€  weak  ;  and  to  remtmbtr  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  how  he  said  ;  U  U 
MCTC  btessed  to  give  than  to  rueive. 

•  * 

In  the  preceding  discourse!  I  considered,  at  some  leneth,  that 
Love  to  bur  Neighbour,  which  is  required  in  the  Second  Command 
of  the  moral  law.  I  shall  now  attempt  to  show,  that  this  disposition 
i$  more  productive  of  happiness  j  than  any  other. 

The  speech  of  St.  raul,  recorded  m  this  chapter,  I  have  long 
considered  as  the  most  perfect  example  of  pathetic  elocjuence, 
ever  uttered  by  man.  Tne  occasion,  the  theme,  the  sentiments, 
the  doctrines,  the  style,  are  all  of  the  most  exauisite  kind,  wholly 
suited  to  each  other,  and  calculated  to  make  tne  deepest  impres- 
sion on  those  who  heard  him.  The  elders  of  the  Church  of  Ephesusy 
to  whom  it  was  addressed,  were  ministers  of  the  Gospel;  converts 
to  Christianity  made  by  himself;  his  own  spiritual  children,  who 
owed  to  him,  under  God,  their  deliverance  from  endless  sin  and 
misery,  and  their  attainment  of  endless  holiness  and  happiness* 
They  were  endeared  to  him,  as  he  was  to  them,  by  the  tenderest  of 
all  possible  tics;  presiding  over  a  Church,  formed  in  the  capital  of 
one  of  the  principal  countries  in  the  world;  at  a  period  when  here- 
sy, contention,  and  dissoluteness,  were  prophetically  seen  by  hhn 
to  be  advancing  with  hasty  strides,  to  rum  Christianity  in  that 
region.  This  address  was,  therefore,  delivered  at  a  time  when 
all  that  was  dear  to  him^  or  them^  was  placed  in  the  most  immi- 
nent hazard  of  speedy  destruction.  They  were  the  pereons,  from 
whom  almost  all  the  exertions  were  to  be  expected  which  might 
avert  this  immense  evil,  and  secure  the  contrary  inestimable  : 
good ;  the  Shepherds,  in  whose  warm  affection,  care,  and  faithfiJ- 
ness,  lay  the  whole  future  safety  of  the  flock.  He  .was  the  Apostle, 
by  whom  the  flock  had  been  gathered  into  the  fold  of  Christ,  ^j^ 
by  whom  the  shepherds  were  formed,  qualified,  and  appointed. 
He  had  n6w  come,  for  the  great  purpose  of  ^monisbii^g  them 
of  their  own  duty,  and  of  the  danger  of  the  floclj:,  committed  to 
their  charge.  He  met  them  with  the  tenderness  of  9h  parent,  visit- 
ing his  children  after  a  long  absence.  He  met  them  for  the  last 
time.  He  assembled  them  to  hear  his  last  f^eweH  on  this  side  the 
grave. 

Vol.  JII.  16 


•      I. " 

I-  • 


A 


t 


l^  EFFECTS  OF  BENEVOl^ENCB  [9ER.  XCTIL 

To  enforce  their  duty  in  the  strongest  manner,  fatfnbigins  his 
address  wilh  reminding  them  of  his  manner  of  life,  his  piety,  faith- 
fulness, zeal,  tenderness  for  them,  disinterestedness  of  oonduct, 
fortitude  under  the  severest  sufferings,  dihgence  in  preaching  the 
Gospel,  steady  dependency  on  God,  and  entire,  dev^On  to  the 
great  business  of  tne  salvation  of  men.  To  them,  as  ^ye  witness- 
es, he  appeab  for  the  truth  of  his  declarations.  7%em  he  charges 
solemnly,  before  God,  to  follow  his  example :  warning  them  of 
approaching  and  accumulating  evil ;  and  commending  them  to  the 
protection,  and  grace,  and  truth,  of  God,  for  their  present  safety, 
and  future  reward. 

With  this  extensive,  most  solemn,  and  most  impressive  prepa- 
ratibn,  he  closes  his  discourse,  in  a  word,  with  the  great  truth  which 
he  wished  to  enforce^  and  the  great  duty  which  he  wished  to  enjoin,  as 
the  sum,  and  substance,  of  all  his  instructions,  precepts,  ana  exam- 
ple ;  exhorting  them  to  remember  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  which 
said,  It  is  more  blessed  to  give,  than  to  rective. 
In  no  remains  of  Demosthenes,  or  Cicero,  can  be  found  the  same 
simplicity,  address,  solemnity,  tenderness,  and  sublimity,  united. 
Paul  was  a  man  immensely  superior  to  either  of  these  celebrated 
Orators  in  excellence  of  character ;  and  with  the  aid  of  Christian- 
ity to  influence,  and  Inspiration  to  direct,  rose  to  a  height,  and 
enlarged  his  views  to  an  extent,  of  which  no  other  man  was  ever 
capable.  His  eloquence,  like  the  poetry  of  Isaiah,  rises  beyond 
every  parallel ;  and  the  excellence  of  his  disposition,  seconded  in 
a  glorious  manner  the  greatness  of  his  views,  the  tenderness  of  his 
sentiments,  and  the  sublimity  of  his  conceptions.     He  speaks  as  if 

-  he  indeed  possessed  the  tongue  of  Angels ;  and  the  things  which 
lie  utters  are  such,  as  Angelsi  without  superior  aid,  if^fm  neyer 

.have  been  able  to  conceive.  ^-^ 

The  Words,  which  he  declares  to  have  been  spoken  byoM  &9- 

''four,  are  nowhere  recorded  in  the  Gospels,  as  having  been  uttered 
iu  the  manner  here  specified.     They  were,  however,  unouestiona- 

'Sly  the  words  of  Christ;  and  not  improbably  addressed  to  Pitul 
himself.  Be  this  as  it  may,  they  are  words  of  the  highest  possible 
import ;  and  may  be  justly  considered  as  the  language  of  all  oar 
Saviour's  preachmg,  and  of  all  his  conduct.     The  Spirit  by  which 

'he  was  governed,  they  perfectly  describe ;  the  actions  which  he 
performed,  and  the  sufferings  which  he  underwent,  they  perfectly 
explain.  Of  all  his  precepts  they  are  a  complete  summary ;  and 
of  nis  whole  character,  as  a  moral  being,  they  are  a  succinct,  bat 
Adi  and  glorious  exhibition. 

The  import  %f  them  cannot  be  easily  mistaken,  unless  finam 
choice.  To  give,  is  an  universal  descnption  of  communicating 
good}  to  receive,  an  equally  extended  description  of  gaining  it 
from  others.  The  former  of  these  two  kinds  of  conduct  is  pro- 
nounced here  to  be  happier  or  more  blessed  than  the  latter.  To  h 
blessed,  is  to  receive  happiness  from  God,  irom  our  fellow-crea- 


SSft.  ju;vii.j  un  rjbitdUjiAi.  tiAmfllte  ]33 

tures,  fl^Jirom  ourselves;  and  denotes,  therefore,  all  the  good, 
which  me  oo  moo,  or  ^Aa//  hereafter,  enjoy*  The  doctrine  of  the  text 
is,  therefore,  that. 

It  is  more  desirable  to  commitnicate  happiness^  than  to  receive  it 
front  othcrtm 

I  am  awire  that  the  selfishness,  which  dwells  in  every  human 
mind,  and  clouds  every  human  intellect,  as  well  as  biasses  every 
human  decision  concerning  moral  suhjects,  revolts  at  this  doctrine. 
To  admit  it,  is  a  plain  condemnation  of  our  ruling  character,  and  a 
judicial  sentence  of  reprobation  on  all  our  conduct.  In  a  worUt 
of  selfish  beings  J  where  one  universal  disposition  reigns,  and  rav- 
ages;  it  cannot  but  be  expected  by  a  man,  even  moderately 
versed  in  human  nature,  that  the  general  sufirage  will  be  gives,  in 
favour  of  the  general  character.  Every  man  knows,  that  his  own- 
cause  is  in  question ;  and  that  his  vote  is  an  acquittal,  or  condem- 
nation of  himself.  From  this  interested  tribunal  an  impartial  issue 
cannot  be  hoped.  In  a  virtuous  world,  instead  of  that  proverbial, 
and  disgraceful  aphorism,  that,  where  you  find  a  man^s  interest,  you 
find  the  man,  the  nobler  and  more  vindicable  sentiment,  that,  we 
should  find  the  man,  where  we  find  his  duty,  would  unquestionably 
|)revair*  If  the  united  voice  of  our  race,  therefore,  should  decide 
asainst  this  great  evangelical  doctrine,  the  innumerable  company 
of  Angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  may  be  easily 
expected  to  give  their  unqualified  decision  in  its  favour.  In  their 
happy  residence,  a  selfish  being  would  be  a  prodigy,  as  well  as  a 
monster. 

Even  in  our  own  world,  we  may,  however,  lay  hold  on  facts, 
which  fully  evince  the  doctrine  to  be  possible.  Parents  are  often 
found  {referring  the  happiness  of  their  children  to  their  own  per- 
sonal 8i|^  private  eood,  and  enjoying  more  satisfaction  in  commu- 
nicating nod  to  them,  than  in  gaining  it  from  the  hands  of  others. 
Friendn  fiaive  frequently  found  their  chief  happiness  In  promoting  ; 
the  weO-beine  of  the  objects  of  their  friendship.  Patriots  have, 
sometimes  at  least,  cheenully  forgotten  all  private  concerns,  ano'f 
neglected  the  whole  business  of  gaining  personal  gratification,  for 
the  sake  of  rendering  important  services  to  their  beloved  country. 
The  Apostles  also,  with  a  spirit  eminently  disinterested  and  heav- 
enly, cheerfully  sacrificed  every  private  consideration  for  the 
divine  purpose  of  accomplishing  the  salvation  of  their  fellow-men. 
Nothing  oi  this  nature  moved  them  ;  neither  counted  they  their  lives 
dear  unto  themselves;  so  that  they  might  finish  their  course  with  joy ^ 
and  the  ministry  which  they  had  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  to  tes» 
ttfy  the  Gospel  of  the  grace  of  God.  ^ 

Now,  what  forbids ;  what  I  mean,  in  the  nature  of  things ;  that, 
with  an  affection  as  tender  and  vigorous,  as  parents  feel  for  their 
children,  and  friends  for  their  friends ;  which  patriots  have  at  times 
felt  for  their  country,  and  which  the  Apostles  of  Christ  felt  for  the 
•ouls  of  their  fellow-men ;  we  should,  in  a  nobler  slate  of  exist- 


•» 


1^34       '^  '  EFFECTS  OF  BENETOLENOE  [SER.  XCVD. 

ence,  escape  from  the  bonds  of  selfishness,  and  send  finrth  our 
goo(J-will  to  every  intelligent  being  whom  we  know,  in  such  a 
manner,  as  to  take  delight  in  the  happiness  of  all  around  us,  and 
to  experience  our  first  enjoyment  in  communicating  good,  wherev- 
er we  could  find  a  recipient*  That  such  a  disposition  would  be  a 
desirable  one,  will  not  be"  disputed.  Why  may  it  not  ejtlst  ?  What 
is  there,  which  will,  of  necessity,  forbid  such  enlargement,  excel- 
lency, and  dignity,  of  moral  character  ?  Why  may  not  a  wprld 
bemled  with  Intelligent  beings,  devoted  to  this  great  and  God- 
like end,  and  gloriously  exhibiting  the  image  and  beauty  of  their 
.  Creator  ?  The  onlv  answer  to  tnese  questions,  which  an  oppo- 
nent can  bring,  is,  that  in  this  guilty,  wretched  world,  the  contrary 
spirit  universally  prevails.  On  the  same  ground,  the  tenants  of  a 
gaol  may  rationally  determine,  that  the  mass  of  fraud,  theft,  rape, 
and  murder,  for  which  they  are  consigned  to  chains  and  gibbets,  b 
the  true  and  only  character,  which  exists  in  the  palace  of  sove- 
reignty, the  hall  of  legislation,  the'  household  of  piety,  and  the 
Church  of  God, 

Admitting,  then,  that  such  a  disposition  is  possible  ;  admitting, 
that  it  has,  ^t  least  in  superior  worlds,  a  real  existence ;  admitting, 
still  farther,  as  all  who  really  believe  the  dictates  of  the  Gospel 
must  admit,  that  it  exists  in  every  sincere  Christian,  even  in  ihk 
world :  1  proceed  to  establish  the  doctrine  bv  observing, 

L  Tliat  all  the  happiness^  which  is  enjot/ea  in  the  Universe^  float 
originally  from  the  voluntary  activity  of  Intelligent  hevngs. 

AH  happiness  is  contrived^  and  i.^  brought  into  existence  by  car- 

jying  that  contrivance  into  execution*     Intelligent  beings  alone 

efim.  contrive,  or  execute.  From  them,  from  their  voluntary  agency, 

therefore,  all  happiness  springs*     God,  the  great  Intelligent, 

beean  this  wonderful  and  immense  work.     Intelligent  cr^tures, 

endued  with  the  faculties  necessary  for  this  purpose,  coincide  with 

him,  as  instruments,  in  carrying  on  the  vast  design.     On  the  part 

of  Him,  or  them,  or  both,  it  is  the  result  of  desien.     If  happiness, 

then,  is  to  exist  at  all,  it  must  flow  from  disposition  ;  and  plainly 

from  a  disposition  to  do  good :  this,  and  a  disposition  to  ao  evil, 

being  the  only  active  and  productive  principles  in  the  whole  nature 

of  things.     A  disposition  to  gain  happiness  from  others,  could 

plainly  produce  nothing ;  and  were  there  no  other,  the  universe 

would  be  a  blank,  a  desert,  in  which  enjoyment  could  never  be 

found.     The  capacity  for  it  would  indeed  exist ;  but  the  means  of 

filling  it  would  be  wanting.     The  channels  would  open,  and  wind ; 

but  the  living  fountain,  with  which  they  were  to  be  supplied,  would 

be  dry.  The  soil  would  be  formed;  and  the  seeds  might  be  sown; 

but  tne  life-giving  influence  of  the  rain  and  the  sunshine  would  be 

.  withholden.     Of  course,  no  verdure,  flowers,  nor  fruits,  would 

spring  up,  to  adorn,  and  enrich,  the  immense  and  desolate  surface* 

As  great,  therefore,  as  the  difference  is  between  the  boundless 

good  which  exists,  and  for  ever  will  exist,  in  the  great  kingdom  of 


t 

I 

*  * 


SER.  XCVa]  ON  PERSONAL  HAPPINESS.  ]f5^ 

Jehovah,  and  an  absolute  barrenness  and  dearth  throughout  this 
incomprehensible  field ;  so  great  is  the  difference  between  these 
two  dispositions. 

II.  virtue^  the  svpremt  excellence  and  glory  of  Intelligent  beings j 
is  merely  the  love  of  doing  good. 

No  attribute  of  a  rational  nature  is,  jwbbably,  so  much  com- 
mended, even  in  this  sinful  world,  as  Virtue;  yet  the  conuncnda- 
tions,  given  of  it,  arc,  in  many  instances  at  least,  unmeaning  aild 
confused  ;  as  if  those  who  extol  it  had  no  definite  ideas  of  its  na- 
ture, and  knew  not  in  what  its  real  value  consists. 

All  the  worth  of  Virtue,  in  my  own  view,  lies  in  this  ;  that  it  is  the 
original,  or  voluntary ,  and  universal,  source  of  happiness^  partly, 
as  its  affections  are  nappy  in  themselves,  and  partly,  as  they  are 
the  sources  of  all  other  happiness.  There  is,  originally,  nothing 
valwt&le,  but  happiness.  The  value  of  Virtue  consists  only  in  its 
eflScacy  to  produce  happiness.  This  is  its  value  in  the  Creator  : 
this  is  its  value  in  its  creatures.  Hence,  and  hence  only,  is  Vir- 
tue the  ornament,  the  excellency,  and  the  loveliness,  of  Intelligent 
beings. 

Virtue,  as  exercised  towards  the  Creator  is,  as  was  shown  in  a 
former  discourse,  summed  up  in  love  to  him  ;  in  Benevolence, 
Complacency,  and  Gratitude :  good- will  to  his  supreme  blessed- 
ness, and  to  the  accomplishment  of  his  glorious  designs ;  a  delight 
in  his  perfect  character,  which  fonns,  and  accomplishes,  the  bound-* 
less  good  of  his  Creation;  and  a  thankful  reception  and  acknow- 
ledgment, of  the  effects  of  his  goodness,  communicated  either  to 
ourselves,  or  to  others.  All  these  are  affections  in  the  highest  de-  -• 
gree  active ;  and  prompt  us  to  study  what  we  shall  render  to  tlU 
Lord  for  his  benefits,  and  to  co-operate  with  all  our  powers  in  the 
promotion  of  the  designs  which  ne  has  made  known  to  us.  All 
the  good,  indeed,  which  we  can  do  to  him,  if  it  may  be  called  by 
this  name,  is  no  other  than  to  please  him;  by  exhibiting  always  a 
disposition  like  his  own.  With  this  disposition  he  is  ever  delight- 
ed ;  and  he  has  been  pleased  to  inform  us,  that  in  his  sight  it  is  of 
great  price. 

Virtue,  as  exercised  towards  our  fellow-creatures,  is  the  same  love 
directed  to  them,  and  perfectly  active  in  promoting  their  well-being. 

In  all  the  forms  of  justice,  faithfulness,  truth,  kindness,  compa«* 
aion,  charity,  and  forgiveness,  in  every  act  of  self-denial  and  self- 
government,  this  is  still  the  soul  and  substance.  But  Virtue  is  a 
character,  beyond  comprehension  superior  to  any  other,  and  in  a 
literal  sense  mfinitely  more  desirable.  It  is  the  only  worth,  the 
only  excellence,  the  only  beauty,  of  the  mind ;  the  only  dignity; 
the  only  glory. 

To  the  spirit,  which  is  occupied  in  gaining  good  from  others,  or 
which  aims  at  enjoyment  merely,  it  is  transccndently  superior,  in 
nuincrous  particulars 

//  is  the  source  of  all  internal,  moral  good. 


4 


;• 


135  EFFECTS  OF  BENEVOLEQTCE  [SER  XCVII. 

The  imnd  is  a  worH  of  itself;  in  which  happiness,  of  a  high 
and  refined  kind,  can  exist :  a  happiness,  without  which  external 

food  can  be  but  of  little  value.  In  the  great  business  of  forming 
appiness,  its  first  concern  is  with  itself.  If  disorder,  tumult,  and 
tempest,  reign  within :  order,  pe^^  and  serenity,  from  without, 
wiU«find  no  admission.  The  first  stfep  towards  real  good  is  self- 
Bpprobation.  So  long  as  the  mind  is  necessitated  to  see  itself  de- 
fniiBj^d)  odious,  and  contemptible  ;  so  long  as  the  conscience  re- 
proaches and  stings  ;  so  long  as  the  affections  are  inordinate,  base, 
ibsincere,  rebellious,  impious,  selfish,  and  guilty  ;  so  long  as  fi^ud 
is  cherished,  truth  rejected,  sin  loved,  and  duty  opposed  ;  it  is  im- 
possible, that  quiet  consolation,  or  hope,  should  find  a  residence 
there.  Self-condemned,  self-abhorrea,  self-despised,  it  miist  fly 
of  design,  from  all  conversation  with  itself;  and  find  its  poor  and 
transient  pleasure  in  the  forgetfulness  of  what  it  is,  and  in  the  hur- 
ry and  busde  of  external  employments  and  companions.  From 
the  sweet  and  peaceful  fireside  of  harmonious  and  happy  affections 
and  purposes ;  fi*om  the  household  serenity  of  a  satisfied  con- 
science, and  of  a  blameless  life,  it  is  forced  abroad,  to  seek,  with- 
out success,  to  slake  its  thirst  for  happiness  in  streets  and  taverns, 
in  routs  and  riots.  Sickly,  pained,  and  languishing,  it  looks  for 
health  and  ease,  in  medicmes  which  cannot  reach  the  disease,  and 
turns  in  vain  for  relief  to  sports  and  sounds,  for  which  it  has 
neither  eye,  nor  ear. 

.  But  when  the  love  of  doing  good  has  once  gained  dominion 
over  the  man,  he  is  become  reconciled  to  his  Creator,  and  to  all 
his  commands.  This  ruling  disposition,  wholly  excellent  and 
lovely  in  itself,  is  of  course  seen  to  be  lovely  and  excellent.  The 
Conscience  smiles  with  approbation  on  all  the  dictates  of  the 
heart.  The  mind  becomes  at  once  assured  of  its  own  amiableness 
and  worth ;  and,  surveying  the  landscape  within,  beholds  it  form- 
ed of  scenes  exquisitely  beautiful  and  desirable.  The  soul,  bar- 
ren and  desolate  before,  is  clothed,  by  the  influence  of  the  Moral 
Sun,  and  the  rain  of  heaven,  with  living  verdure,  and  with  blos- 
soms and  fruits  of  righteousness.  All  is  pleasant ;  all  is  lovely  to 
the  eye.  No  tumult  ruflles,  no  storm  agitates.  Peace  sooths 
and  mishes  every  disordered  affection,  and  Danishes  every  uneasy 
purpose ;  and  serenity,  like  the  summer  evening,  spreads  a  son 
and  mild  lustre  over  the  cheerful  region.  Possessed  of  new  aikl 
real  dignity,  and  assuming  the  character  of  a  rational  being,  the 
man  for  the  first  time  enjoys  himself^  and  finds  this  enjoyment  not 
only  new,  but  noble  and  expansive ;  and,  while  it  furnishes  per- 
petually varied  and  exquisite  ^ood,  it  sweetens  and  enhances,  all 
other  good.  From  his  happmess  within,  the  transition  to  that 
which  ne  finds  without,  is  easy  and  instinctive.  Of  one  part  of 
this,  himself  is  the  immediate  parent.  When  he  surveys  tne  ob- 
jects, to  whom  he  has  communicated  happiness  by  relieving  their 
4isiresses,  or  originating  their  enjoyments  ;  the  first  thing,  which 


Ki  .  •  • 


S£ll.  XCVU.]  ON  PERSONAL  HAPPlNESa  1 37 

naturally  strikes  his  attention,  is,  thai  their  hcfymineas  is  thework  of 
his  own  hands^  In  the  exalted  character  of  a  oenefactor,  a  volun- 
tary nnd  virtuous  benefactor,  Jie  surveys  and  approves  him-^elf ; 
not  with  pride  and  self-righteousness,  but  with  humble  gratitude  to 
God,  for  vouchsafing  to  raise  M^Aip  to  such  exaltation  and  worth, 
and  to  make  him  a  willing  insffument,  in  his  hand,  of  the  g^oiltoi  . 
his  fellow-rreatures.  •■ 

la  this  character,  the  man,  who  seeks  happiness  in  gaining  ^b0%  f 
has  no  share,     A  child  of  sense,  a  mere  animal,. his  only  businiis 
has  been  to  taste  and  to  swallow;  while  nobler  and  mom  active 
beings  have  been  employed  in  producing  the  food,  on  which  he  re- 
gales his  appetite. 

In  this  character  of  a  common  benefactor,  the  virtuous  man  is 
seen,  and  acknowledged,  by  others,  as  well  as  by  himself.  By  all 
who  see  him  he  is  approved  ;  and  by  the  wise  and  good  he  is  be- 
loved. Conscience  owns  his  worth ;  Virtue  esteems  and  loves  ft; 
and  the  public  testimony  repeats  and  applauds  it.  To  the  world 
he  is  considered  as  a  blessing ;  and  his  memory  survives  the 
grave,  fragrant  and  delightful  to  succeeding  generations. 

In  the  mean  time,  those,  who  are  most  unlike  him  in  character, 
pay  an  involuntary  testimony  to  his  worth.  Whenever  they  seek 
esteem  and  commendation,  they  are  obliged  to  profess  his  charac- 
ter, and  to  counterfeit  his  principles  ;  to  pretend  to  do  good,  and  to 
seem  to  love  the  employment.  In  this  conduct  they  unwillingly 
declare,  that  there  is  no  honour,  and  no  worth,  even  in  their  view, 
beside  that^  of  which  his  character  is  formed. 

In  addition  to  these  things,  he  is  daily  conscious  of  the  appro* 
batioa  of  God ;  a  privilege,  a  blessing,  transcending  all  other  bless* 
ings ;  a  good,  which  knows  no  bounds  of  degree  or  duration. 
The  proofs,  given  of  his  approbation  to  this  character,  are  such,  as 
leave  no  room  for  doubt,  or  question.  It  is,  he  has  declared  it  to 
be,  his  own  character.  God  is  Love.  His  law  has  demanded  it, 
as  the  only  article  of  obedience  to  himself.  Love  is  the  fulfilling 
of  the.  Law.  To  this  character,  as  formed  in  the  soul  through  the 
redemption  of  Christ,  all  his  promises  are  made.  In  consequence 
of  the  existence  of  this  character,  sin  is  forgiven ;  the  soul  justifi- 
ed ;  and  the  man  adopted  into  the  divine  family  as  a  child  of  God, 
and  an  heir  of  eternal  life.  Of  the  approbatipn  of  God,  therefore, 
he  is  secure.  Think,  I  beseech  you,  of  the  nature  of  this  enjoy- 
ment. Think  of  the  character  of  him  who  approves.  Think  what 
it  is  to  be  approved  by  infinite  Wisdom.  Wnat  a  seal  of  worth ; 
what  a  source  of  dignity ;  what  a  foundation  of  honour !  How  vir- 
tuous an  ambition  may  oe  here  gratified ;  what  an  immense  capaci- 
tj  for  happiness  may  here  be  filled ! 

Beyond  the  grave,  his  excellence  will  find  a  complete  reward. 
There,  all  around  him  will  be  wise  and  good ;  and  will  joyfully  feel 
and  acknowledge,  will  esteem  and  applaud,  his  worth.  Of  their 
esteem,  and  love,  the  testimonies  will  be  sincere,  un^sguised,  un- 


4" 
* 


'^ 


i 


t 
« 


V. 


I    < 

4 


r 

•  •  * 

128  EFFECTS  OF  BENEVOLENCE  "^  [SER.  XCVII. 

« 

changed,  and  eternaK  There  he  will  be  acknowledged,  and  wel- 
comed, as  one  of  the  virtuous  and  happy  number,  who  have  volun- 
tarily glorified  God,  and  befriended  the  Universe,  during  iheir 
earthly  prilgrimage;  and  who  are  destined  to  the  same  delightful 
employments,  and  to  the  same  glorious  character,  for  ever.  His 
heavenly  Father  will  also  there  testify  hrs  own  divine  approbntion, 
ip^an  open,  full^*  and  perfect  manner ;  will  adorn  him  with  every 
grace ;  remove  from  him  every  stain ;  and  advance  him  through 
successive  stages  of  excellence,  which  shall  know  no  end. 

It  is  the  actual,  and  probably  the  necessary,  law  of  Intelligent 
nature,  that  we  love  those,  to  whom  we  do  good^  more  than  those 
who  do  good  to  us.  Thus  God  loves  his  Intelligent  creatures  in- 
comparably more,  than  they  can  love  him.  Thus,  the  Sa^iou^ 
loved  mankind  far  more  intensely,  than  his  most  faithful  disciples 
ever  loved  him.  Thus  parents  regard  their  children  with  a  strength 
of  affection  unknown  m  cbSRbren  towards  iheir  parents.  Tmii 
Jft^nds  love  those,  whom  they  have  befriended,  more  than  tboqil 
^o  have  befriended  them*  Thus  also  in  other,  and  probably  tP 
allj  cases.  According  to  this  undeniaSle  scheme  of  things,  he 
who  seeks  his  happiness  in  doing  good,  is  bound  to  his  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  to  the  universe,  and  will  be  eternally  bound,  by  far 
stronger,  and  tenderer  ties,  than  can  otherwise  exist.  II-'  will 
contemplate  every  fellow-creature,  primarily,  as  an  object  c-f  his 
own  beneficence ;  and,  while  he  feels  a  parental,  a  godlike,  at- 
tachment to  all,  will  enjoy  a  delight  in  their  prosperity,  not  unjust- 
ly styled  divine.  This  glorious  disposition  will  make  the  happi- 
ness of  every  being  his  own,  as  parents  make  that  of  their  chil  !ren. 
Even.ip  this  world,  he  will  thus  multiply  enjoyment,  in  a  manner 
unknoWR.to  all  others  ;  and  in  the  world  to  QQpi^y  will,  in  a  pro- 
gress for  ever  increasing  and  enlarging,  firia  the  most  pure  and 
exquisite  delight  springing  up  in  his  bosom,  wherever  he  dwells  and 
wherever  he  roves.  His  mind,  a  bright,  and  polished  mirror, 
will  receive  the  light  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  and  of  all  the 
.  stars  which  adorn  the  heavenly  firmament ;  and  will,  at  the  same 
time,  warm  and  brighten  within  itself,  and  return  the  enlivening 
beams  with  undiminished  lustre. 

111.  To  (/o  good  is  the  only  and  perfect  character  of  the  ever- 
blessed  Jehovah* 

When  God  created  the  universe,  it  is  most  evident,  that  he  could 
have  no  possible  view  in  this  great  work,  but  to  glorify  hims./fm 
doing  good  to  the  creatures  which  he  made*  Whatever  they  were, 
and  whatever  they  possessed,  or  could  ever  be,  or  possess,  must 
of  course  be  derivea  from  him  alone.  From  theiD,  therefore,  he 
could  receive  nothing,  but  what  he  had  given  them.  Accordingly, 
he  is  not  worshipped  as  though  he  needed  any  thing  ;  seeing  he  givetk. 
unto  all  If e^  and  breath,  and  all  things*  The  whole  system  nf  his 
designs  and  conduct  is  a  mere  system  of  communicating  goo'l ;  and 
his  whole  character  as  displayed  in  it,  is  exactly  siunmed  up  bjr 


SER.XCyiL]      •  ON  PERSONAL  lUPPINESS.  139 

I 

the  Psalmist  in  these  few  words :  Tliou  art  good^  and  ioH  goodj 
and  thy  tender  mercies  are  over  all  thy  works*  The  same  charac^- 
ter  was  anciently  proclaimed  by  himself  to  Moses,  on  Mount  Sinaij 
in  that  sublime  and  affecting  annunciation  :  the  Lord,  the  Lord  Godj 
merciful  and  gracious,  long-suffering,  sl0w  to  anger,  and  abundailii 
in  goodness  and  truth.  St.  John  has,  in  a  still  more  comprehen-' 
sive  manner  declared  his  character  in  a  single  word  :  God  is  Love. 
This  peculiarly  divine  and  glorious  character  was  still  more  illua^- 
triousiy  manifested  by  the  Son  of  God,  in  the  wonderful  work  of 
Redemption.  Infinitely  rich  in  all  good  himself,  for  our  sakes  h^ 
became  poor,  that  we  through  him  might  become  rich  ;  rich  in  holi- 
ness ;  nch  in  the  happiness  which  it  produces*  We  were  fallen, 
condemned,  and  ruined;  were  poor,  and  miserable,  and  blind,  and 
naked,  and  in  want  of  all  things.  To  do  good  to  us,  to  redeem 
as  from  sin,  and  to  rescue  us  from  misery,  ne  came  to  this  world ; 
and  while  he  lived,  went  about  doing  gpod  unto  all  men  as  he  had 
9fforiwuty,  and  ended  his  Ufe  onine  cross,  that  we  might  live  for 


On  the  third  da^  he  arose  from  the  dead,  and  ascended  intOt^  ^ 
heaven.  At  the  right  hand  of  God  the  Father,  while  he  sits  on 
the  throne  of  the  Universe,  he  makes  perpetual  intercession  for 
the  sinful,  backsliding  creatures,  whom  he  left  behind ;  and  with 
infinite  benignity  carries  on  the  amazing  work  of  redeeming  love, 
in  the  world  of  glory.  In  that  world  it  is  his  employment,,  and 
delight,  to  feed  all  his  followers,  and  lead  them  to  fountains  (f Jiving 
maters  ;  to  enlighten  them  with  wisdom,  to  improve  them  in  Virtue, 
to  adorn  them  with  strength  and  beauty,  and  to  dignify  them  with 
immortal  glorjr. 

All  these  things  ha^  flowed,  and  will  for  ever  flow,  from  his 
own  love  of  doing  godnr  Of  them,  he  could  not  possibly  stand  in 
need.  Of  the  stones  of  the  street,  he  could  raise  up  children  and 
followers,  beyond' measure  better,  wiser,  and  nobler,  than  they 
are,  and  in  numbers  incomprehensible.  For  him  they  can  do 
nothing;  for  them  he  does' all  things. 

But  God  is  infinitely  blessed.     Tnis  superior  and  unchangeable 
happiness  of  Jehovah  springs  entirely  from  this  glorious  disposition. 
As  he  can.  receive  notning,  his  happiness  must  lie  wholly  in  the 
conscious  enjoyment  of  his  own  excellence,  which  is  formed  of  this  • 
disposition,  and  in  the  communication  of  good  to  his  creatures.     . 

ff  we  would  be  happy  like  Km,  we  must  be  disposed  like  him : 
must  experience,  andf  exercise,  the  same  love  of  doing  good ;  and 
must  fina  our  own  supreme  enioynfient  in  this  exalted  communica- 
tion. Happiness  grows  out  of  the  temper  of  the  mind  which  enjoys. 
Us  native  soil  is  benevolence.  When  this  is  the  temperature  of  the 
soul,  it  springs  up  spontaneously,  and  flourishes,  and  blossoms, . 
and  bears,  witn  a  rich  and  endless  luxuriance,  and  with  beauty 
iapreme  and  transcendent :   but  when  selfishness  predomiuateSi 

Vol.111.  17 


f 


]gg  EFfCCTB  W  BENfiVOLXnCB  >  )IBOt  ZCTO. 


M  exotie  in  a  sterile  ground,  and  a  wintry  climate,  it  withen, 
fiides^  and  dies. 

In  the  mean  time,  God  loves,  and  blesses,  those,  whose  disposi* 
tion  and  conduct  resemble  his  own*  In  giving  this  character  to  his 
chiMren,  he  gives  them  the  first  of  all  blessings ;  the  source  of 
peace,  dignity,  and  enjoyment,  within,  and  the  means  of  relishing 
every  pleasure  from  without.  Thus,  in  the  possession  of  this  char- 
actef^  (A«y  havi^  in  the  scriptural  language ;  and  therefore,  toihenu 
ift  other  respects,  shall  he  largely  pven.  Their  internal  excellence 
and  enjoyment  shall  be  perpetually  improved,  and  their  external 
faapfrtness,  in  the  like  manner,  extended.  As  the  mind  becomes 
m<^  beneficent^  more  pure,  more  active  in  doing  good;  all  the 
sources  of  its  felicity  will  multiply  around  it ;  its  consciousness  of 
being  like  its  Father  and  Redeemer  will  Expand  and  refine  ;  virtu- 
ous beings  will  more  clearly  see,  approve,  and  love,  its  beauty  and 
MKSftXh  \  and  te  smiles  of  infinite  complacency  will  beam  upon  its 
character  and  conduct  with  inexpressible  and  transporting  glory* 

Having  thus,  as  I  flatter  myself,  shown  in'a  clear  light  the  XxvSSbl 
of  the  Doctrine,  contained  in  the  text ;  1  shall  now  close  the  db- 
course  with  two 

REMARKS. 

1st.  7hx8  doctrine  places  in  the  strongest  point  of  view  the  Supe^ 
fhriiy  of  the  Qospel  to  every  other  system  of  morals. 

There  are  two  classes  of  men,  Doth  very  numerous,  who  have 
employed  themselves  in  forming  moral  systems  for  mankind :  viz. 
the  ancient  Heathen  Philosophers,  and  modern  Infidels.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  observe,  that  in  all  moral  systems  the  Supreme 
GoodI,  or  highest  interest  of  Man,  and,  by  consequence,  the  Nature 
of  Virtue,  and  tbe  Nature  and  Means  of  Happiness,  become,  oi 
course,  prime  objects  of  inquiry.  Nothing  can  more  effectually 
teach  UB  the  insufficiency  of  the  human  mind  to  determine  the  na- 
ture of  the  Supreme  Good  than  the  decJaration  of  Varro  that  the 
heathen  Philosophers  had  en^racedy  within  his  knowledge^  two  Atm- 
drtd  and  eighty-eight  different  opinions  concerning  this  important 
stAject.  Nor  were  their  sentiments  concerning  the  natufe  of  Vir- 
tue and  the  nature  and  means  of  Happinea^  as  will  be  easily  sup* 
posed,  at  all  more  harmonious.  £ome  of  them  taught  that  sensual 
pleasure  is  the  chief  good  of  man;  that  it  consists  in  freedom  from 
trouble  and  pain ;  and  th||  business  and  cares  do  not  consist  with 
happiness ;  and  tiierefore,  that  a  man  ought  not  to  marry,  becaust 
a  ramily  wHl  eive  him  trouble ;  nor  engage  in  public  business ;  ncr 
meddle  with  tne  concerns  of  the  pubuc.  They  also  taught,  that 
nothing,  which  is  in  itself  pleasurable,  is  an  evil ;  and  that  when  it 
i8i9Vil,  it  is  ao,  oidy  becautc  it  brings  more  trouble  with  it  tbui 
pleasure;  that,  therefore,  injustice  is  not  an  evil  in  itself,  but  is  evfl 
mere4y  on  account  of  the  trouble  which  it  occasions  to  its  author. 
Some  of  them  placed  their  supreme  happiness  in  pride,  and  paw 


0  - 


XCTO.]   .  Olf  n»aOBrAL  BAFnOBOL  131 

sonal  independence  of  both  gods  and  men.  Apadiy,  or  an  absolute 
want  of  feeling  with  respect  to  our  own  troubles,  and  those  of  our 
fellow-men,  was  regarded  as  being  essential  to  this  independence. 
Some  of  them  placed  happiness  in  abstraction  from  the  world;  in 
study ;  in  contemplation ;  in  quietude  of  mind ;  in  indolence  of 
body ;  in  seclusion  from  human  society ;  in  wealth,  power,  fame, 
superiority  of  talents,  and  military  glory.  Of  Virtut  they  appear 
to  have  formed  no  distinct,  or  definite,  conceptions.  In  some  in- 
stances, they  spoke  of  it  with  propriety  and  truth ;  but,  in  others, 
with  such  confusion,  as  to  prove,  that  they  were  without  any  conhott 
and  satisfactory  apprehensions  concerning  its  nature :  the  sevend 
things  which  they  taught,  being  utterly  inconsistent  with  each  other. 
Different  Philosophers  placed  Virtue  in  the  love,  and  pursuit,  of 
most  of  the  things,  mentioned  above,  and  made  it  consist  with  injus- 
tice ;  impurity;  impiety ;  fraud ;  falsehood ;  the  desertion  of  parents 
in  their  old  age;  unkindness  to  children;  insensibility  to  the  dia- 
Iresses  of  our  fellow-creatures ;  and  generally  with  a  dereliction 
of  almost  every  thing,  which  the  Scriptures  have  declared  to  ht 
virtuous. 

These  observations  are  sufficient  to  show  how  infinitely  remote 
these  philosophers  were  from  just  conceptions  eoncerning  this  in- 
estimable subject; 

Infidels  have  left  this  important  concern  of  man,  substandalty  as 
diey  found  it.  I  cannot,  at  the  present  dme,  attempt  to  repeat 
their  various  doctrines.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  observe,  at  the  pres- 
ent time,  that  Mr.  Hume^  one  of  the  last  and  ablest  of  them,  has 
taught  us  in  fonn,  that  Modesty,  Humility,  Repentance  of  sin,  and 
the  forgiveness  of  injuries,  are  vices ;  and  that  pride,  therefore, 
inapudence,  resentment,  revenge,  and  obsUnacy  in  sin,  are  by  ne- 
cessary consequence,  virtues.  This  scheme  needs  no  comment. 
Virtue,  such  as  this,  would  lay  the  world  waste,  and  render  him 
who  possessed  it  a  fiend. 

From  what  a  glorious  height  do  the  Scriptures  look  down  on  this 
grovelling,  deformed,  self-contradictory  chaos  of  opinions !  How 
lobliroe  is  the  scheme  which  they  exhibit  concerning  this  amasing 
subject!  FtWti«,  they  inform  us,  it  ihe  love  of  doing  good:  an  ac* 
tive  principle ;  the  real  and  whole  Energy  of  an  Intelligent  mind, 
exerted  for  the  exalted  pur];>oseof  producing  happiness.  In  the 
exertions  of  this  principle,  in  the  enjoyment  whicn  attends  it,  and 
io  the  happiness  which  it  creates,  the  Scri|itures  place  the  supreme 
ffood  of  man,  and  of  every  other  Intelhgent  being.  Here,  and 
sere  only,  is  it  placed  with  true  wisdom,  and  immoveable  certainty* 
The  mind  in  this  manner  is  happy,  within,  by  its  self-approbation  t 
and,  without,  by  being  in  the  nighest  dmee  uscftil  to  others,  aM 
hj  receiving  from  the  hand  of  others  all  Uie  good,  which  the  san^ 
Usefulness  m  them  can  return  to  itself.  Here  all  the  provisioOf 
which  is  either  possible,  or  desirable,  is  made  for  enjoyment  uii- 
^od  complete*     The  character,  the  personal  characteri 


133  BFIXCTS  OF  BE|l£VOLENCE  [iaitlt^ 

becomes  glorious;  the fiffection3  delightful;  the  conduct dlriiifu  In 
a  community,  governed  by  this  principle,  every  individual,  howev- 
er gre4t,  or  however  small,  is  honourable  and  lovely,  both  in  his 
own  sight,  and  that  of  others  :  every  one  is  useful,  also :  f^ery  one 
is  happy. 

2aly.  The  great  practical  inference  from  this  doctrine  is,  that  do^ 
mg  good  is  the  only  proper  Ejmplojftnent  of  man. 

You,  my  Friends  and  Brethren,  were  created  for  this  great  pur- 
pose ;  oot  to  gain  reputation,  learning,  wealth,  knowledge,  power, 
Qonour,  or  pleasure ;  but  to  do  good  ;  not  to  gain  even  heaven  it* 
self,  or  immortal  life  ;  but  to  ascend  to  heaven,  and  to  acquire  im- 
mortal life,  that  in  that  happy  world  you  may  employ  the  immense 
of  duration  in  an  endless  difllusion  of  beneficence,  and  an  endless 
exercise  of  pie(y  and  praise.  Make,  then,  the  end  for  whichGod 
designed  your  existence,  and  your  faculties,  the  voluntary  and  prop- 
er end  of  all  your  wishes,  designs,  and  labours. 

With  sober  and  aiTecting  meditation  set  it  before  yourselves  in 
form,  and  system,  as  the  purpose  for  which  you  were  made,  en- 
dowed, preserved,  and  blessed  hitherto ;  as  the  purpose,  which  is 
prescribed  by  tlie  will  of  God ;  and  as  the  purpose,  to  which  you 
are,  therefore,  voluntarily,  and  supremely,  to  aevote  yourselves. 
Let  each  of  you  say  to  himself,  ^'  I  was  formed  for  the  great  and 
glorious  purpose  of  doing  good.  This  was  the  will  of  my  Maker; 
It  is  my  own  supreme  interest ;  it  is  the  supreme  interest  of  my  fel- 
low-creatures in  me.  Be  this,  then,  the  ultimate  end  of  all  my 
thoughts,  wishes,  and  labours;  and  let  nothing  hinder  me  from 
pursuing  it  always.  While  I  lawfully  seek  for  reputation,  proper- 
ty, learning,  eloauence,  power,.or  any  other  earthly  good,  1  am  re- 
solved to  seek  tnem,  only  in  subordination  to  this  great  purpose ; 
as  means,  merely,  to  this  end.  To  form,  and  to  execute,  this  res- 
olution, give  me  grace,  wisdom,  and  strength,  O  thou  Father  of  all 
mercies !  that  I  may  perform  thy  holy  will,  and  in  some  measure 
resemble  thy  perfect  and  glorious  character,  through  Jesus  Christ* 
Amen.'' 

This  solemn  proposition  of  the  subject  to  yourselves  would,  al- 
most of  course,  give  it  a  distinction  and  importance  in  your  view, 
which  would  induce  you  to  keep  it  supremely,  and  habitually,  in 
sight,  and  render  it  a  standard,  to  which  all  yoiu*  conduct  would  b^ 
referred  for  approbation  or  rejection;  a  moral  scale,  by  which  you 
would  measure  every  thought,  and  pursuit ;  a  touchstone  by  which 
you  would  distinguish  every  species  of  alloy  from  the  most  fine 
gold.  It  would,  also,  direct  your  aims  to  a  higher  mark ;  and  give 
your  eAbi*ts  a  nobler  character.  Men  usually,  even  gotid  men, 
•rather  compound  in  their  affections  with  conscience,  and  the  Scrip* 
.tores,  for  a  mixture  of  worldliness  an(}  virtue,  than  insist  on  observ- 
ing nothing,  but  the  dictates  of  virtue.  They  aim  at  being  virtuous, 
and  not  at  being  only,  and  eminently,  virtuous.  One  reason  for 
this  is,  they  take  it  for  granted,  that  they  shall  never  cease  to  sin,  in 


1  ■ 


■  .-* 


4 


XCyn.]  ON  PERSONAL  HAPPINESS.  I33 

the  piesent  world,  and,  therefore,  never  mistrust  either  how  practi- 
cable, or  how  important  it  is,  that  Ihey  should  vigorously  deterniine 
to  avoid  all  sin,  and  practice  nothing  but  virtue.  Their  designs  are 
divided  between  their  worldly  business  and  Religion,  Thesethey 
consider  as  two  separate,  and  in  a  degree  incoherent,  objects ; 
both  necessary,  but  still  clashing ;  when  they  ought  to  consider 
their  worldly  business  merely  as  one  great  dictate,  and  duty,  of  Re* 
ligion  ;  one  great  branch  of  the  virtue,  which  they  are  to  exhibit, 
and  of  the  good,  which  they  are  to  do.  Worldly  business  is  to  be 
doi^e ;  but  it  is  to  be  done  only  as  a  part  of  our  religion  and  duty. 
Even  our  amusements  are  always  to  be  regarded  in  this  manner; 
and  are  useful,  and  lawful,  only  lis  parts  of  our  duty,  and  as  means 
of  enabling  us  better  to  perform  other  duties,  of  higher  import- 
ance. From  etact  obedience  to  the  great  rule,  JVhether  ye  eat,  or 
drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  ail  to  tM  glory  of  God,  there  is  no 
exemption. 

Were  the  solemn  proposition  which  I  have  urged,  to  be  formed, 
and  habitually  kopt  in  sight;  the  character  of  man  would  soon 
be,  not  sinless  indeed,  but  incomparably  more  holy,  blameless, 
and  undefiled,  than  we  now  usually  find  it.  Human  Yirtoo  would 
be  less  cloudedy  would  assume  a  brighter  and  more  celestial 
aspect ;  and  would  be  gilded  with  a  clearer  and  more  genial  sun- 
shine. ' 

In  whatever  sphere  of  life  you  are  placed,  employ  all  your  pow- 
ers, and  all  your  means  of  doing  gooci,  asdiliffently  and  vigorously 
as  you  can.  Direct  your  efforts  to  the  well-being  of  those  who 
are  within  your  reach,  and  not  to  the  inhabitants  of  a  distant  age, 
or  country ;  of  a  future  generation,  or  of  China  ^r  Peru.  Neglect 
not  a  humble  kind  office  within  your  power,  for  a  vast  and  suWime 
one,  which  you  cannot  accomplish.  The  Scriptures  require  you 
to  feed  the  hungry,  and  to  clothe  the  naked;  to  instruct  the  igno- 
rant, and  reclaim  the  vicious.  Philosophical  philanthropy  calls  to 
the  commiseration  of  nations,  the  overthrow  of  governments,  the 
improvement  of  the  vast  society  of  M^n,  and  the  exaltation  of  this 
wretched  world  to  freedom,  science,  and  happiness.  The  only 
objection  to  your  labouring  in  fliis  magnificent  field  seems  to  be, 
that  your  labours  will  be  to  ho  purpose.  On  the  Scriptural  plan, 
you  will  at  least  do  something ;  -ancl  your  two  mites  will  notbo  for- 

Sotten.  Extend  your  effortb,  however,  as  far  as  you  can  extend 
lem,  to  any  effect ;  to  as  many,  and  as  great  objects,  as  Providence 
places  within  your  reach ;  and  as  many  ways  as  you  shall  find  in 
your  power,  rrombtc,  as  much  as  possible,  relief,  comfort,  liea I th, 
knowledge,  virtue,  and  happiness,  both  as  private  and  public  ob- 
jects* Promote  them  by  your  talents,  your  property,  your  influ- 
ence, your  labours,  and  your  example.  Let  every  day,  when  pas- 
sing in  review  before  the  .scrutinizing  eye  of  conscience,  prosont  a 
regular  series  of  beneficence,  which  will  softicn  the  bed  of  voup 
repose,  and  rise  as  a  sweet  memorial  before  God. 


^  134  EFFECTS  OF  BGNEVClLENCE  JfitSL  XCftL 

Ai  otjjecti  of  your  kindness^  always  select  the  most  deservtng. 
The  Scnptures  have  directed  you  to  do  good  tmto  all  men^  and  es* 
pecially  to  those  of  the  household  of  faith.  To  the  soundness  of  this 
*"**  •  precept  conunon  sense  bears,  also,  the  fullest  attestation.  It  was 
reserved  for  philosophy  to  discern,  that  the  true  and  proper 
scenes  of  employing  oenevolence  were  the  galley  and  the  gaol; 
and  that  its  cnief  aim  should  be  not  to  make  men  good  and  virtu* 
ous,  but  to  prevent  thieves,  mimlerers,  and  traitors  from  coming 
b  to  the  dungeon  or  the  gibbet,  which,  they  had  merited.     Let  your 

fiivourite  object  be  the  honest,  the  industrious,  the  sober,  the  virtu- 
ous ;  and  both  feel,  and  relieve,  their  distresses.  Refuse  not 
otheitli  but  give  to  these  an  universal  preference*.  When  you  re- 
lieve'QlFjViifl^ngs  of  the  vicious  and  mfamou8|i^c»e  your  oenefi- 
cence  iRth  solemn  reproof,  and  pungent  coudmI]  and  remember^ 
"  *•  if  you  withdraw  them  from  vice  to  virtue,  you  render  them  a  kind- 
ness, infinitely  greater,  than  if  you  elevate  them  to  wealth  and 
honour.  In  tnis  way  you  will  save  a  soul  from  death,  and  cover  a 
multitude  of  sins. 

With  all  your  resolutions  and  efforts,  you  will  need,  every  day, 
assistance  from  God.  Every  day,  ask  it  in  humble,  fervent 
prayer.  No  real  blessing  ever  descends  to  man,  but  as  an  answer 
to  prayer.  Particularly  this  rich  and  glorious  blessing  of  a  Kfe 
patiently  spent  in  well-doing,  cannot  be  expected  unless  it  be  ask- 
\ed  for.  Ihree  times  a  day  retire  with  Daniel  to  3rour  chambers. 
v^  God  will  be  there,  and  will  grant  you  a  glorious  answer  of  pMce. 
To  such  a  life  can  you  want  motives  ?  Let  me  remind  you,  that 
t(  iff,  and,  I  flatter  myself,  it  has  been  proved  to  be,  not  only  the 
most  honourable^  but  the  only  honourable^  character;  the  character, 
which  secures  the  secret  approbation  of  those  who  do  not  assume 
it ;  and  the  open  esteem,  love,  and  praise,  of  those  who  do :  that 
it  is  the  only  character,  which  is  truly  and  eminently  happy; 
which  possesses  peace  within,  and  enjoyment  without ;  whicn  is 
found  m  heaven,  and  constitutes  the  happiness  of  that  exalted 
world :  that  it  is  the  character  of  Angels,  of  Christ,  and  of  God; 
the  beauty  of  the  divine  kingdom,  the  glory  of  Jehovah,  and  the 
source  of  all  the  good,  wnich  is  enjoyed  in  Immensity  and 
Eternity. 

//  is  the  only  character^  which  vnll  endure.  TTiewdrld  passeth 
away,  and  the  lust  thereof;  but  he  who  doeth  the  will  of  God  aiidetk 
for  ever.  The  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes;  and  the  pride  of 
yme,  the  wretched  inventory  of  a  selfish,  worldly  mind,  find  aO 
tjneir  poor,  though  boasted,  gratifications  on  this  side  of  the  grave* 
Their  miserable  possessors  riot,  and  dig,  and  climb,  during  their 
passing  day ;  and  then  vanish,  and  are  seen  Ho  more :  where  tUll 
they  q^xt  be  found  ? 

noi  t)n  the  contrary,  who  by  patient  continuance  in  well^domg 

Hath  sought  forglortf,  honour,  and  immottaliUf,  will  lie  down  in 

'  .     die  bed  of  peace,  will  fall  asletp  ih  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  awnke 


•: 


XCVn.]  ON  PERSONAL  HAFPINES&  135 


with  new  life,  and  glory,  beyond  the  grave.  In  the  great  trial,  he 
will  be  found,  and  pronounced,  to  have  well  done^  ancfto  have  been 
m  good  and  faithful  servant  of  his  divine  Master;  and  will  be  di- 
rected to  enter  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord* 

In  the  ereat  and  final  day,  he  will  be  acquitted,  acknowledged, 
and  ^ori&d,  before  the  assembled  universe ;  because,  when  the 
least  of  Christ's  brethren  was  an  hungered^  he  gave  him  meat} 
when  he  wap  thirsty j  he  gave  him  drink  ;  when  he  was  a  stranger^  he 
took  him  in  ;  when  he  was  nakedj  he  clothed  him  ;  when  he  was  suJcy 
and  in  prison^  he  ministered  mUo  him.  Of  so  high  and  valuable  a  ^/ 
nature  will  he  £uid  this  beneficence,  that  it  will  be  received,  and 
rewazded,  by  Christ,  as  done  to  himself.  To  heaven  he  will  be 
an  acceptable  itibabitant ;  and  meet  with  an  open  and  (df^ifJUnt  en- 
trance  into  that  ll^py  world.  Glorified  saints  will  thei<iS|l  him 
at  their  brother;  Angels  will  welcome  him  as  their  cotflpanion. 
There,  also,  will  he  find,  that  he  has  begun  a  career  of  excellence, 
iriiich  will  never  end.  Endued,  there,  with  stronger  principles 
and  nobler  powers,  in  a  happier  field,  with  more  desirable  com- 
panions, and  forming  all  his  plans  of  beneficence  for  eternal  dura- 
tion; he  will  fill  up  the  succession  of  ages  with  a  glorious  and  im- 
mortal progress  of  doing  good ;  and  become  daily  a  brighter,  a 
more  perfect,  a  more  divine,  ornament,  and  blessing,  to  the  virtu- 
ous universe. 

And  now,  my  friends  and  brethren,  /  commend  you  to  God^  and 
io  ike  word  of  his  grace,  which  is  Me  to  build  you  tp  in  this  evan-  * 
geUcal  character,  and  to  give  you  an  inheritance  among  all  thtm 
mii  are  saneiijied.    Amen. 


4 

V. 


•  » 


'•»> 


^   f 


I 


SERMON  XCVIII. 


THE  LAW  OF  GOD* ^THE  SECOND  GREAT  COMMANDMENT* THE 

EFFECTS  OF  BENEVOLENCE  ON  PUBLIC  HAPPINESS. 


Acts  xi.  35. — I  have  Aewfd  you  all  thingSf  how  that  to  Idbouringf  ye  ought  to  ..^- 
port  the  weak  ;  and  to  remember  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jenu,  how  he  taid,  it  ii 
more  bleated  to  give,  than  to  receive. 

In  a  preceding  discourse,  I  considered,  at  length,  the  Influence 
of  a  disposition  to  do  good  on  the  personai  happiness  ofhimj  in  whom 
it  exists,  and  attempted  to  show,  that  this  disposition  is  more  pro* 
ditctive,  than  any  other ^  of  such  happiness.  It  is  now  my  design  to 
prove,  that  it  possesses  a  no  less  sxtperior  efficacy  in  producing  Ptdh 
lie  happiness.^  or  the  happiness  of  Society  in  all  its  various  forms. 

*     ^         Of  this  disposition,  commonly  styled  disinterested  Benevolence^ 
and  denoted  m  the  New  Tr  i;»?:  out  by  the  word,  Ayonj,  render- 
ed in  our  transhiiion  Love^  i.-d  C/\arily,  we  have  an  extensive, 
•  most  accurate,  and  most  beautiful,  description  in  the  13th  chapter 
of  the  first  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians.     In  this  chapter,  it  is  ex- 

ij|»  1  hibiied  to  be  superior  to  every  natural  and  supernatural  endow- 
ment, and  to  every  acquisition  made  by  man.  It  is  proved  to  be 
the  source  of  all  good,  natural  and  moral ;  or  rather  the  source  of 
all  natural,  and  the  substance  of  all  moral,  good.  It  is  shown  to 
be  the  only  real  excellence  of  intelligent  creatures  ;  the  means  of 
their  existence,  and  their  continuance,  in  the  kingdom,  of  God ; 
and  the  only  cause  of  his  complacency  in  their  character.  Final- 
ly, it  is  declared,  that  this  disposition  shall  endure  until  aH  other 
things,  which  are  admired  and  esteemed  by  men,  shall  be  forgot- 
ten ;  and,  when  they  shall  have  ceased,  together  with  theur  use  and 
importance,  shall  brighten  and  flpurish  for  ever. 

Generally,  it  is  declared,  if  I  mistake  not,  in  this  chapter,  that 
Love,  in  its  various  modifications  and  exercises,  is  the  amount  of 
all  those,  which  are  commonly  called  the  graces  of  the  Christian 
spirit ;  or,  as  they  are  often  styied,  the  Christian  virtues.  Par- 
ticularly, it  is  exhibited  to  us  as  long-suffering,  contentment,  mod- 
esty, humility,  decency,  disinterestedness,  meekness,  charitable- 
ness, hatred  of  iniauity,  love  to  truth,  patience,  faith,  hope,  arid 
fortitude.  With  tnis,  the  most  extended  and  the  most  detailed, 
account  of  the  subject,  furnished  by  the  Scriptures,  all  the  other 

^  exhibitions,  contained  in  the  sacred  volume,  perfectly  agree.'    In 

them  all,  when  connected  together  by  the  mind,  as  may  without 
difficulty  be  perceived,  this  great  truth  is  abundantly  shown :  viz* 


xcvm.]  on  fubuc  happinxss.  137 

chat  the  Love  of  the  Gospel,  or  the  spirit  of  doing  good,  b  the 
source  of  all  ha|>pines8,  public  and  private;  and  is  productive,  in- 
tentionally, of  no  unnecessary  evil. 

This  truth  is  generallv,  but  forcibly,  taught  in  the  text,  with 
regard  to  society,  as  well  as  with  regard  to  individuals.  If  we  re- 
member, that  all  societies  are  composed  of  individuals ;  we  cannot 
hesitate  to  admit,  that  whatever  renders  them  happy,  must  in  ex- 
actly the  same  manner,  and  degree,  be  the  source  of  public  hajH 
Jiness.  1ft/  is  more  blessed  to  give,  than  to  recsive,  if  it  %$  more 
lessed  to  cherish  a  spirit  of  doing  good  to  others,  than  a  disposition 
to  gain  it  from  ihem,.  in  individual  instances;  the  community,  in 
which  this  disposition  universally  reigned,  could  not  fail  to  enjoy 
this  superior  happiness  in  its  fullest  extent. 
Equally  manifest  is  it,  that  the  same  disposition  could  not  be 

Eroductive  of  evil.  Love,  saith  St.  Paid,  worketh  no  ill  to  his  neigh" 
our:  therefore  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  Law.  In  other  woras, 
this  great  and  glorious  characteristic  of  love,  that  it  is  productive 
of  no  ill,  rendered  it  an  object  of  such  excellence  to  the  view  of 
God,  that  he  framed  his  law  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  require  nothing 
of  his  intelligent  creatures,  beside  this  attribute  and  its  proper  ex- 
.  ercises.  We  are  not  indeed  to  suppose  this  the  only  reason,  why 
the  divine  law  was  framed  in  this  manner.  The  good,  of  which 
this  disposition  is  the  parent,  was,  as  we  are  abundantly  taught  in 
the  Scriptures,  a  commanding  reason  also,  why  it  was  required  by. 
the  law  of  God.  To  secure  this  good,  and  prevent  in  this  manner 
the  existence  of  the  evil,  which  would  necessarily  result  from  any 
•other  disposition,  was, at  the  same  time,  supremely  glorious  to  the 
Lifinite  Lawgiver. 

It  cannot  fail  of  being  an  interesting  employment  to  a  Christian 
•assembly  to  contemplate  the  operations  of  this  spirit  upon  human 
Bociety.  In  the  progress  of  such  contemplation,  so  many  blessings 
will  rise  up  to  our  view ;  and  will  be  so  easily  seen  to  flow  neces- 
sarily from  this  disposition  ;  that  we  cannot  tail  to  feel  deeply  the 
degraded,  mischievous,  miserable  nature  of  that  selfishness,  which 
is  so  directly  contrasted  to  it,  and  which  so  generally  controls  the 
affections  and  conduct  of  man.  With  scarcely  less  streneth  shall 
we  reaDze,  also,  the  excellence  and  amiableness  of  that  spirit,  from 
which  good  so  extensively  flows ;  which  makes  heaven  the  resi- 
dence of  supreme  enjoyment ;  and  which  might  make  even  this 
■lelancholy  world  no  unworthy  resemblance  oi  heaven. 

On  ^  theme,  so  extensive  as  this,  and  comprehending  such  a 
•  vast  multitude  ot  particulars,  it  would  be  easy  to  make  many  im- 
portant observations.     Those  which  fall  within  the  compass  of 
'.siy  design  must,  however,  be  all  included  within  the  limits  of  a 
aingle  cfiscourse.     They  will,  therefore,  be  few,  and  of  necessity 
ipeneral. 

Vol.  IIL  18 


\ 


f 


.*" 


«    13B  EFFECTS  OP  BENEVOLENCE  [8E1L  XCYIflL 

'"'*.■  •  • 

'^  ''If  ^joangi/H^  tovty  or  the  Spirit  of  communicating  happiness^ 
will^  of  eourH^%ndMCt  us  to  be  contented  with  our  own  Providential 
allolnunts^    . 

*  *    Love,  saith  St*  Paul,  envieth  not.     Love  seeketh  not  her  own* 

It  is  easily  demonstrated  by  Reason,  as  well  as  abundantly  dcr 
clarcd  in  the  Scriptures,  that  the  infinitely  wise  and  benevolent 
God  orders  all  things  aright.  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Let  not  the 
wise  man  glory  in  his  wisdom j  neither  let  ih^  mighty  man  glory  ih  hit 

•  •  might  ;  let  not  the  rich  man  glory  in  his  riches  :^  But  let  him  that 

florieth  glory  in  this  ;  that  he  understandeth  and  knoweth  me  ;  thai 
am  the  Lord  which  exercise  loving-kindness,  judgment,  and  rights 
eousness,  in  the  earth :  for  in  these  things  I  delight,  saith  the  Lord. 
With  such  a  government  as  this,  it  is  evident,  all  persons  ought  to 
Be  satisfied :  for  all  pei'sons  clearly  ought  to  wish,  that  that  which 
is  righteous,  wise,  and  benevolent,  sboujd  be  invariably  done.  He 
who  is  dissatisfied,  therefore,  cannot,  without  voluntary  blindness, 
fail  to  discern,  that  in  this  temper  he  is  guilty  of  sin.  At  the  same 
time,  the  good  man  is  taught,  and  will  from  interest  and  duty,  alike, 
remember,  that  all  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
Hod ;  and  therefore,  for  eood  to  him,  as  being  one  of  this  happy 
number.  Such  a  man,  with  tliis  conviction,  must  be  contented  of 
course.  His  understanding,  prepared  alway  to  admit  the  dictates 
of  truth,  and  his  heart,  always  ready  to  welcome  them,  demand, 
and  generate,  a  contented  spirit.  In  such  a  man  discontentment 
with  his  own  situation,  and  envy  on  account  of  the  superior  enjoy- 
^,  ments  of  others,  can  find  no  place,  unless  when  the  law  in  the  mem- 

bers,  warring  against  the  law  of  the  mind,  brings  him  into  captivity* 
Were  his  love,  therefore,  perfect ;  his  contentment  would  oe  also 
perfect. 

The  impprtance  of  this  disposition  to  the  happiness  of  man,  may 
be  advantageously  illustrated  by  calling  up  to  our  view  the  im- 
mense evils,  which  spring  from  discontentment.     How  vast  is  their 
number;  how. terrible  their  nature !    What  hatred  does  it  generate 
towards  our  fellow-creatures ;  what  wrath  ;  what  contention ;  what 
revenge !    How  many  slanders  does  it  produce  ;  how  many  frauds! 
What  a  multitude  of  pei juries,  litigations,  murders,  and  wars !  What 
*   a  mass  of  guilt  does  it  Create !    What  an  accumulation  of  misery ! 
Were  the  great  men  of  this  world,  alone,  to  be  satisfied  with  tie 
wealth,  splendour,  and  power,  allotted  to  them ;  were  they  to  thirst 
no  incre  for  the  enjoyments,  bestowed  on  their  rivals ;  the  whole 
;-    r\hcc  of  this  earthly  system  would  in  a  great  measure  be  chancred. 
'  ••'^  ^Oppression  would  break  his  iron  rod;  and  war  would  cease  to 
'■ '  ravage  the  habitations  of  men. 

In  producing  these  evils,  it  is  impossible  for  a  mind,  governed 
by  the  spirit  ofdoing  good,  to  take  any  share.  Such  a  mind  must 
of  necessity  rejoice  m  the  righteous  aiid  benevolent  dispensations 
of  God.  AH  these  it  would  regard,  as  springing  from  his  perfect 
character,  and  as  accomplisliing  his  perfect  designs.    Its  own  al- 


'« 


8ER  XCVni.]  ON  PUBLIC  HAPPINESS.  139    . 

lotm-^nts,  therefore,  it  would  consider  as  the  besl-^poiisible^  upon  ^  *' 
the  \Vholc,  for  the  time,  and  the  circumstances  ;  be<jpBe  they  were 
derr^rmined.by  this  wisdom  and  goodness.  If  a  man,  possessed  of 
8Ui  h  a  mind,  were  afflicted ;  he  would  noi  despise  the  chasUnins  of  ^ 
ihr  f^rdj  nor  faint  when  he  was  rebuked  of  him  ;  but  he  would  re- 
member, that  whom  the  Lord  toveth^  he  chasteneth  ^  and  that  he 
tcoff.'gtth  every  sOn  whom  he  rcceiveth.  In  this  character  of  a  son, 
with  filial  affection,  and  reverence,  to  the  Father  of  his  spirit^  while 
thus  employed  in  the  eminently  parental  office  of  chastening  him  ' 
for  his  good^  he  would  sustain  his  afflictions  with  patience,  forti- 
tude, and  submission ;  would  endeavour  to  derive,  and  would  cer<^ 
tai  nl  V  derive,  from  them,  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness.  His 
mifiLi  would  become  more  and  more  serene,  patient,  and  enduring ; 
more  sensible  of  his  dependence  on  God ;  niore  resigned  to  his 
dis|X)sal;  and  more  intimately  possessed  o(  fellowship  ioith  the 
Father  and  his  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Every  day,  and  by  means  of 
every  affliction,  he  would  become  more  weaned  from  the  world, 
more  spiritually-minded,  less  dependent  for  his  happiness  on  out- 
ward objects,  and  more  effectually  sustained  by  the  peace  and  joy 
of  the  Gospel.  In  such  a  mind,  passion  would  daily  lose  its  inor- 
dinate and  mischievous  dominion ;  and  reason,  conscience,  and 
piety,  daily  increase  theirs.  The  views,  and  feelings,  which  as- 
similate hini  to  an  animal,  would  gradually  lessen ;  and  those,  which 
constitute  him  a  rational  being,  continuafly  increase.  The  distinc- 
tion in  the  scale  of  moral  existence,  for  which  he  was  originally 
formed,  he  would  gradually  acquire ;  and  in  the  end  would  find 
Limself  an  inhabitant  of  heaven,  fitted  by  a  wholesome  disci- 
pline for  an  immediate  participation  of  its  pure  and  unfading  en- 
joyments.. 

ill  prosperity,  the  same  man  would  acknowledge  God  as  the 
giver  of  all  his  blessings.  The  enjoyments  allotted  to  him,  he 
wouH  regard  not  as  acquired  from  his  Maker  by  bargain  and  sale, 
purchased  by  works  which  himself  had  wrought,  and  eaifned  by 
nis  own  industry  and  ingenuity  j  but  as  gifts,  descending  from  ihe 
Author  of  all  eood,  as  sovereign  and  merciful  communications  from 
the  eternal  Benefactor.  To  this  Benefactor  all  his  affections, , 
prayers,  and  praises,  would  ascend :  and  the  character,  which  this  '. 
elorious  Being  would  sustain  in  the  view  of  such  a  mind,  would  be 
the  proper  and  transcendent  character  of  Jehovah. 

It  is  the  lot  of  all  men  to  be  more,  or  less,  injured  by  their  fcl-     , 
low-men*     In  the  sufferance  of  these  injuries,  most  men  become  ^'\^ 
impatient,  angry,  and  revengeful ;  and  usually  look  no  farther,';  * 
while  smarting  under  the  infliction,  than  to  the  hand,  from  which  it     ' 
is  immediately  derived.     But  such  a  mind  will  remember,  that  the 
injuries,  done  by  men,  are  also  Providential  chastipements  fi-om 
God,  directed  by  the  highest  wisdom,  and  accomplishing  the  most 
desirable  purposes.     However  untoward,  therefore,  however  pain- 
ful, his  suffenngs  niny  seem  for  a  season ;  he  will  consider  them, 


f  40  EFFECTS  OF  BENEVOLENCE     [8ER.  XCVIIL 

chicflv,  as  Aetfessary  parts  of  a  perfect  Providence,  and  as  real, 
though  mysterious  means,  of  accomplishing  perfect  good*  In  this 
,  view,  they  will  appear  comparatively  light;  and  will  be  sustained 
with  equanimity,  and  even  with  comfort.  The  promises  of  the 
Gospel,  ever  present,  and  ever  fresh,  will  steadily  furnish  addition- 
al and  abundant  consolation.  In  these,  he  will  find  his  own  good 
secured  beyond  defeat ;  and  will  both  hopcy  and  (piietlv  wait  for^ 
the  salvation  of  God.  Ftaishioned,  and  tempei*ed,  in  tnis  manner, 
into  submission,  patience,  and  meekness,  the  work  of  righteoustiess 
willy  in  such  a  mind,  be  peace  ^  arid  the  effect^  of  righteousness^  qui* 
etnessy  and  assurance  for  ever*  '* 

In  this  vast  particular,  therefore,  extending  to  so  many  objects, 
spreading  its  influence  over  all  the  days  and  hours  of  life,  man 
would  gam,  beyond  measure,  bv  assuming  this  divine  disposition* 
The  spirit  of  doing  good  would  be,  in  his  oosom,  a  well  of  water, 
f  owing  out  unto  everlasting  life.  The  delightful  nature  of  benev- 
olent affections,  the  animating  enjoyment  iimerent  in  beneficence* 
would  gild  with  sunshine  the  gloom  of  affliction,,  and  add  new  beau- 
ty and  splendour  to  seasons  of  prosperity.  Towards  God  it  would 
^*  be  exercised  in  the  whole  course  of  diversified  obedience;  partic- 

ularly in  coniplacency  and  gratitude,  reverence  and  resignation^ 
the  proper  efforts  of  a  good  mind  to  render  to  him  according  to  hu 
benefits.  Towards  man,  it  would  operate  in  the  pixxluction  of  hap 
piness,  and  the  relief  of  distress ;  the  employment  of  God  himsek 
and  peculiarly  the  source  of  his  own  infinite  happiness.  Thus 
would  it  unceasingly  do  good,  and  gain  good :  and,  while  he,  who 
was  the  subject  ofit,  diffused  enjoyment  through  his  own  bosom,  he 
would  extend  it  also  to  all  around  him. 

It  has  doubtless  been  observed,  that  I  have  illustrated  this  sub- 
ject, Ijitherto,  by  applying  it  to  the  circumstances  of  an  individtmL 
t  is  hardly  necessary  to  remark,  that  what  is  thus  true  of  one  man 
must  be  equally  true  of  all  others,  who  are  governed  by  the  same 
spirit.  This  conteilitment,  therefore,  this  serenity,  this  exquisite 
enjoyment,  would,  if  such  a  disposition  universally  prevaileti,  be 
felt  by  a  w'holc  community,  and  diffused  over  the  world.  Every 
man  would  thus  act;  thus  gain  ;  thus  enjoy.    What  a  mass  of  hap- 

Siness  would  in  this  manner  be  accumulated ;  and  how  would  the 
arkness  of  this  melancholy  world  be  changed  into  a  glorious  re- 
semblance of  everlasting  day ! 

II.   The  same  spirit  would  do  Justice  to  all  men. 

Love  rejoice  I  h  not  in  iniq^tity. 

Justice  is  either  Commutative,  or  Distributive..  Commutative 
justice  is  rendering  an  equivalent  for  what  we  receive^  whether  of 
property^  or  kind  offices.  Distributive  justice  is  the  rendering  of 
such  reroardsy  as  are  due  to  those  who  obey  law^  and  govemmentj 
and  of  such  punishments,  as  are  due  to  those  who  disobey  and  rebtU 
In  both  senses,  Justice  is  the  mere  measure  of  benevolence.  What 
a  change  would  be  wrought  in  this  world  by  an  exact  fulfiliuent  of 


8EfL  XCVm.]  ON  PUBLIC  HAPFINfiSS.  141 

Comrautatiye  Justice  only!  With  i^rhat  astonishn^tnt  should  we 
see  every  debt  paid  at  the  time,  and  in  the  manner,  in  which  it  was 
due!  every  promise  faithfully  fulfilled!  every  loan  of  money^  uten- 
sils, or  other  property,  relumed  without  injury  or  delay !  every 
commodity  sold  according  to  its  real  value,  and  that  value  truly 
declared !  every  character  carefully  and  justly  defended,  and  none 
unjustly  attacked !  every  kindness  gratefully  felt,  and  exactly  re- 

Siited!  Hdw  great  a  part  of  human  corruptions  would  cease ! 
ow  great  a  part  of  the  customary  litigations  would  be  swept 
away!  What  a  multitude  of  prosecutions  would  vanish!  What  a 
beet  of  hard  bargains,  cheats,  and  jockeys,  would  be  driven  from 
among  men!  How  soon  would  the  judge  find  himself  enjoying  a 
comparative  sinecure,  and  the  jail  crumble  into  ruin  for  want  of 
inhaoitants! 

But  this  mighty  chanee  would  be  still  increased  by  the  reign  of 
Distributive  Justice.  In  its  Laws,  the  Legislature  would  regard 
only  the  good  of  its  subjects.  In  his  decisions,,  the  Judge,  and 
in  his  administrations,  the  Executive  Magistrate,  would  be  gov- 
erned by  the  same  great  and  general  interest.  'Of  course  laws 
would  be  usefiilly  formed,  and  equitably  administered;  and  the 
public  peace,  approbation,  and  prosperity,  would  be  uniformly 
secured. 

To  the  government,  the  people  at  large  would  willingly  render 
the  same  justice,  as  being  influenced  by  me  same  principle.  Jus- 
tice,  in  an  important  sense,  is  due  from  the  people  to  their  rulers; 
and  can  be  either  rendered,  or  denied.  .  when  rendered,  much 
good,  and  when  denied,  much  evil,  is  always  done  to  the  communi- 
ty. If  the  Benevolence  of  the  Gospel  governed  men  of  all  classcsp^ 
this  justice  would  be  rendered  cheerfully,  and  universally.  Strong 
in  the  pubUc  confi.dence.  Rulers  would  be  at  full  liberty  to  devise, 
and  pursue,  every  useful  measure,  without  danger  of  slander  or 
opposition,  without  faetion  or  tumult.  The  community  would  be 
a  great  and  happy  family,  peaceful,  harmonUgMis,  and  safe ;  and,  at 
the  head  of  it,  Maeistrates  would  be  the  common  parents,  actuated 
by  no  design,  and  busied  in  no  employment,  but  to  render  them- 
selves as  useful,  and  the  people  as  happy,  as  was  in  their  power. 
How  different  such  a  nation  from  those,  that  have  hitherto  existed 
in  this  tumultuous  world ! 

HI.  The  saint  .spirit  would  invariably  speak  Truth. 

Love^  saith  St.  Pom/,  rejoiceth  in  the  truth. 

Truth  is  the  basis  of  society,  in  all  worlds  where  society  exists* 
Angels  could  ixot  be  spcial  without  it.  Thieves  and  robbers  sup- 
port their  dreadful  social  state  by  speaking  it  to  each  other.  To 
be  social  beings  at  all,  we  must  exercise  confidence.  But  we  can- 
not confide,  where  truth  is  not  spoken.  Lying,  in  all  its  forms,  is 
the  gangrene  of  society;  and  corrupts  the  mass  just  so  far  as  it 
spreads.  The  sense  of  falsehood  is  a  sense  of  danger ;  a  sense 
of  danger  is  distress.     Suspicion,  jealousy,  hatred,  malignant  de- 


« -.• 


143  EFFECTS  OF  BENEVOLENCE  [SER  XCVBL 

Signs,  and  the  dreadful  execution  of  those  designs,  grow,  succes- 
sively, out  of  deception.  Under  the  united  dominion  of  these 
evils,  the  mind,  in  wnich  they  exist,  becomes  craduaily  a  seal  of 
wo  ;  a  haunt  of  dreadful  passions  and  dreadful  cspcclations.  la 
the  progress  of  inteilectual  nature,  a  world  of  beings  thus  situated, 
would  be  acollection  of  fiends  ;  and  convert  their  residence  into  a 
hell.  On  this  globe,  where  much  truth  is  spoken,  and  wherelalse- 
hood  is  only  mixed  j  where  (he  spirit,  and  the  art,  of  deceiving  are 
imperfect ;  a  great  pan  of  our  sufferings,  as  well  as  of  outmds,  i^^ 
formed  by  viointJons  of  truth. 

What  a  mighty  and  glorious  change  would  at  once  be  acccND*  ■ 
plishcd  in  the  circumstances  of  mankind,  were  truth  to  become  their 
only  and  universal  language !  Were  no  false  facia  hereafter  to  be 
declared,  no  false  arguments  to  be  alleged,  no  false  doctrines  to  be 
taught,  no  false  pretentions  to  be  made,  no  false  Iriendsbipa  to  be 
professed,  and  no  felse  colourings  to  be  employed,  to  discourage 
and  deform  truth  ;  what  a  host  of  villains  would  vanish !  What  a 
multitude  of  impositions,  treacheries,  and  distresses,  would  fade 
out  of  the  picture  of  human  wo ! 

To  realize  the  nature,  and  extent,  of  this  mighty  change,  cast 


r  eyes,  for  a  moment,  over  the  face  of  this  melancholy  world, 
behold  all  the  interests  of  Man  exposed,  and  hazarded ;  his  peace 
invaded;  his  purposes  frustrated;  his  business  ruined;  and  Ins 
hopes  blasted,  by  the  various  votaries  of  falsehood :  his  private  af- 
fairs molested  by  lying  servants  5  his  friendship  abused  dv  treach- 
erous friends ;  his  good  name  dishonoured  by  slanderous  noghbourf; 
his  learning  and  science  perverted  by  philosophisls ;  his  nghls  and 
privileges  wrested  from  him  by  fraudulent  governments ;  and  \as 
salvation  prevented  by  religious  impostors.  How  iroaiense  is  the 
atusc,  which  he  suffers ;  howcomprehenwve;  how  minute:  spread- 
ing every  where,  and  reaching  to  every  thing,  which  is  important 
which  is  dear  to  the  heart !  Thieves  and  robbers  conceal,  and  ao 
complish,  their  malignant  invasions  of  property  and  happiness  un 
der  the  darkness  of  midni^l ;  and  fly  with  terror  anu  naste  lh< 
delecting  eye  of  day.  The  wretches,  of  whom  I  have  spokeOf 
shroud  themselves  in  moral  darkness,  and  eoually  dread  tbe  ot- 
plorlng  beams  of  truth.  Were  this  glorious  light  of  the  universe 
to  burst  the  clouds  which  envelope  our  darkened  world,  and  exhibat 
in  clear  and  distinct  view  ai)  things  as  they  are ;  what  a  host  of 
enemies,  what  a  crowd  of  spectres  would  fly  from  the  dreadful 
detection !  See  the  Tale-bearer,  hurrying  from  the  indignant  hisses 
of  those,  whom  he  has  pierced  into  the  innermost  parts  of  the  soul! 
The  Perjurer  shrinks  from  the  abhorrence  of  those  sacred  tribu- 
nals of  justice,  which  his  enormous  guilt  has  dishonoured  and  de- 
filed ;  and  trembles  at  the  expected  infliction  of  that  divine  wradi 
iHiich  he  has  impiously  invoked.  The  Liar  sneaks  (rom  the  haunta 
of  man,  while  infamy  pursues  his  flight  with  her  hiss  of  contemn^ 
and  her  whip  at  scorpions.     The  Sophist  immures  himself  in  na 


L  XCVm  ]  ON  FtJBUC  HAPWIEW. 


^ 


cell,  amid  ihe  foul  animals  wbo  are  its  propor  inhabitants  :  nhile 
fnslice  inscribes  over  the  entrance,  "  Here  u  hmtd  Ike  betrayer  of 
the  taitl»  of  men."  The  Seducer,  loathed,  execrated,  torn  by  a 
frenzied  conscience,  and  wrung  with  remorse  and  agony,  hurries 
out  of  sight,  to  find  his  last  refuge  among  his  kindred  fiends.  Be- 
hind them,  the  whole  train  of  deceivers,  appalled,  and  withered, 
vaiiiftb  from  the  searching  beams ;  and  sink  down  to  the  regions  of 
darkaess  and  despair.  The  earthly  creation,  which  An*  groaned, 
end  travailed  in  pain,  together,  until  nojo,  under  the  vast  miseries, 
which  these  enemies  of  God  and  men  have  wrought,  wherever  ihej 
have  roomed,  ia  lightened  of  the  inBupportable  burden.  The 
gloom  disappears ;  and  universal  nature  smiles  to  behold  its  Re- 
demotion  drawing  nigh.  Trftfunals  of  justice  are  purified  at  onpe. 
Individuals,  families,  and  neighbourhoods,  feel  their  wounds  close  ; 
their  breaches  vanish  J  and  their  peace  reltirn.  Religion  rides  in 
triuiBph  through  the  world ;  and  God  is  pleased  tadtaeU  anew  anotig 
mm. 

Think  not,  that  I  am  too  ardent  in  this  representation.  Falsehood 
is  the  first  enemy  of  Inlelligent  beings.  The  world  was  ruined,  the 
human  race  were  murdered  at  first  by  a  lie.  "  The  father  of  liet," 
is  the  appropriate  title  of  die  worst  of  all  beings ;  a  lillc  of  su- 
preme and  eternal  infamy,  branded  by  the  Almighty  h&nd.  All 
tfae  deceivers  who  have  followed  in  his  train,  partake  ol  his  char- 
acter ;  are  slaves,  self-sold  [o  toil  in  his  foul  and  malignant  drudge- 
ry, and' heirs  of  his  undying  infemy  and  wo.  There  tkull  m  no 
wiit  adtt  into  the  citif  any  iking  thai  defleth,  or  thai  lovelk  or  mak- 
€tka  lit;  but  on  the  contrary,  all  liars  shall  liave  ikeir part  in  the 
lake  ikat  bumelh  with  fire  and brimalone. 

Truth,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  foundation,  on  which  resli;  the 
Moral  Universe;  the  stability  of  the  divine  kingdom;  the  light 
of  heaven;  the  glory  of  Jehovah.  The  Truth,  is  one  of  the  pe- 
culiar names  of  Him,  who  is  the  brightneta  of  the  Father'3  glory, 
9nH  the  txpre$3  image  of  his  perion.  Truth  is  ijhe  great  nond, 
which  unites  angels  to  each  other,  and  to  iheir  God;  the  chain, 
which  binds  together  the  intelligent  system  ;  preserving  ail  the 
parts  in  harmony  and  beauty,  and  arranging  the  worlds,  of  which 
It  is  oomposed,  around  the  great  Centre  of  light,  happiness,  and 
glory. 

FV.  From  ike  tame  diipoailion  Toould  spring,  umvertally,  ikott 
Kind  Offices,  vikieh  are  its  immediate  offspring,  and  which  contlitvti 
the  peculiar  amiablentia  of  Intelligent  beings. 
Love  tuffereth  long  and  ia  kind. 

The  interchange'"  of  conduct  between  such  beings,  are  in  their 
Dftturr,  and  variety,  endless.  From  inferiora  to  auperion,  they  as- 
lume  the  name'  of  our  veneration,  homage,  respect,  reverence,  sub- 
mission, and  obedience;  logolher  with  many  others  of  the  same 
'  general  naiwe.  From  luoermra  to  inferiort,  they  are  !n  (lie  like 
varied  through  all   the  shades  of  authority,  govemmeuti 


'.     •  ^. 


144  KttlSCm  OF  BENEVOLENCE  [8ER  XCVOI 

precept,  regard,  countenance,  favour,  compassion,  forgiveness,  in- 
struction, advice,  reproof,  and  a  great  variety  of  similar  ofiiccs* 
Between  equals^  they  are  performed  in.  the  more  familiar,  but  not 
less  necessary,  acts  of  friendship,  esteem,  civility,  giving,  lending, 
aiding,  and  a  multitude  of  others.  These,  unitea^  cojsstitute  a  vast 
proportion  of  all  that  excellence,  of  which  Intelligent  beings  are 
capable  ;  and  of  all  that  duty,  for  which  they  are  designed  by  their 
Creator.  .  To  enjoyment,  kindness  is  no  less  necessary,  than  truth 
and  justice.  Truth  begins,  justice  regulates,  and  kindness  finishes, 
rational  happiness.  Truth  if  the  oasis,  justice  the  measure, 
and  kindness  the  substance.  All  are  aUke,  and  absolutely,  in- 
dispensable ;  and  of  all.  Benevolence  is  the  soul,  the  e^ence,  the 
amount. 

A  world  of  kindness  is  a  copy  of  heaven.  A  world  widtonii 
kindness  is  an  image  of  he'll.  Eden  originally  derived  its  beautjr 
and  glory  from  the  kind  and  amiable  character  of  its  inhabitants ; 
and  the  verdure,  the  bloom,  the  splendour  of  all  its  ornaments,  were 
merely  a  faint  resemblance  of  the  beauty  of  mind,  the  moral  life 
and  loveliness,  which  glowed  in  our  first  parents.  Had  they  pn^ 
served  this  character;  the  world  would  still  have  continued  to  floin^ 
.  ish  with  immortal  life  and  beauty;  and  the  character  itself  would 
have  furnished  one  natural  and  desirable  ingredient  in  the  happi- 
ness of  beings,  like  /Aem,  who  by  the  nature  of  their  dispositions, 
were  capable  of  being  happy.  , 

Were  the  same  chai-acter  to  revive  in  the  present  inhabitants  of 
the  world,  now  in  ruins  around  us ;  the  bloom  and  beauty  of  Para- 
dise would  spontaneously  return.  Three  fourths  of  the  miseries 
of  man  ar6  made  by  himself;  and  of  these  a  vast  proportion  is 
formed  by  his  unkindness.  Were  this  malignant  character  ban- 
ished f  were  sweetness  and  tenderness  of  disposition  to  return  to 
the  human  breast,  and  benevolence  once  more  to  regulate  human 
conduct  5  ^  lustre  and  loveliness,  hitherto  unknown,  would  be 
spread  over  the  inanimate  creation  ;  and  God  would  supply  to  our 
enjoyment  all,  which  would  then  be  lacking. 

In  the  exercise  of  this  disposition.  Parents  would  be  tinily  kind 
to  their  children ;  and  would  labour  not  to.  gratify  their  pride,  ava- 
rice, and  sensuality,  but  to  do  them  real  and  universal  gooil ;  to 
form  their  minds  to  virtue  and  happiness,  to  obedience  and  end- 
less life,  to  excellence  and  loveliness  in  the  sight  of  ifJod.  In  the 
path  of  this  true  wisdom  they  would  walk  before ;  and  their  off- 
spring, following  cheerfully  after  them,  would  find  it  to  be  only 
pltaaantness  and  peace.  Brothers  and  sisters,  under  this  happy  in- 
fluence, would  become  brothers  and  sisters  indeed.  In  their 
hearts,  and  on  their  tongues,  would  dwell  the  law  of  kindneas  to 
each  other,  and  of  piety  to  their  parents..  ' Every  son  would  make 
a  glnd  father ;  no  daughter  would  be  a  heaviness  to  her  mother. 
Every  returning  day  would  assume  the  peace  and  scfenity  ol  the 


xarm.]  on  pubuc  happin£s&  145 

Sabbath ;  and  every  house  would  be  converted  mto  a  little 
heaven. 

From  the  house,  this  expansive  disposition  would  enlarge  the 
circuit  of  its  benefactions  so,  as  to  comprehend  the  neighbourhood. 
Happy  within,  every  family  would  delight  to  extend  its  happiness 
to  all  witBbut,  who  are  near  enough  to  know,  and  to  share,  its 
kind  offices.  The  beams  of  charity  would  shine  from  one  habita- 
tion to  another;  and  every  hamlet  and  village  would  be  formed 
into  a  constellation  of  beauty  and  splendour.  Peacey  the  sister  oC 
Love,  and  /ay,  the  third  in  that  delightful  family,  would  be  con- 
stant visitants  at  every  fireside  ^^Juod  spread  their  smiles,  and  their 
influence,  over  every  collection  of  human  dwellings. 

To  the  poor,  the  wanderer,  and  the  stranger,  every  door  would 
^  ^    be  open,  to  invite  them  in ;  every  heart  would  welcome  their  en- 
*"  *    trance ;  and    every    hand,    relieve  their  wants  and  distresses^ 
The  rich  would  be  rich,  only  to  bless ;  and  the  poor  would  ly 
poor,  only  to  be  blessed.   The  ereat  would  emplov  their  ten  talenit 
in  gaining  more  ;  and  the  small,  their  one  talent  m  the  same  hon- 
^  ourable  and  profitable  exchange.     Kings  and  rulers  would  be,  m- 
'  deed,  what  they  have  been  styled,  but  in  many  instances,  without 
m  claim  to  the  character ;  the  Fathers  of  their  country.     The  iron 
rod  of  oppression  would  be  finally  broken,  and  cast  away ;  and  the 
golden  sceptre  of  love,  and  peace,  and  t:harity,  would  be  extend* 
«d  for  the  encouragement,  and  relief,  of  all  who  approached. 
Bribery,  intrigue,  caballing,  and  the  whole  train  of  pubhc  corrup- 
tors,  would  be  hissed  out  of  the  habitations  of  men ;  and  the 
courts  of  rulers  become,  not  the  scenes  of  guilt  and  mischief,  but 
the  residence  of  honour,  dignity,  and  Evangelical  example. 

Nor  would  this  great  bond  of  verfectness  meiely  unite  the  mem- 
bers of  a  single  community  with  each  other ;  but  extending  its 
power,  like  the  attraction  of  the  sun,  would  join  all  nattfms  in  one 
common  union  of  peace  and  good-will.  No  more  wooU  the  trum- 
pet summon  to  arms ;  no  more  would  the  beacon  kindle  its  fires, 
to  spread  the  alarm  of  invasion ;  no  more  would  1^  instruments 
of  death  be  furbished  against  the  day  of  battle.  The  sword  would 
he  literally  beaten  into  a  ploughshare,  and  the  sptar  into  a  pruning 
hook  ;  nation  would  no  more  lift  up  sword  against  nation  ;  nor  king" 
dom  against  kingdom  ^  neither  would  thev  learn  war  any  more. 
The  human  wolf,  forgetting  all  his  native  ierocity,  would  cease  to 
thirst  for  the  blood  of  the  lamb ;  and  cruelty,  slaughter,  and  deso- 
^  lation,  to  lay  waste  the  miserable  habitations  of  men.  7%e  walUj 
within  and  without  which,  violence  resounded,  and  ravaeedy  mould 
he  called  Salvation;  and  the  gmtes,  before  which  alqfKruction 
fiowned  at  the  head  of  an  invading  host,  would  be  siamamed 

Pa  A  IS  E. 

V.  Th€  same  dispositum  would  manifest  itself  m  universal  OMid 
unceantig  piety  to  God* 
VouRl.  19 


«4 


f4$  EfTECnrS  OF  BENEVOLENCE  (BEB.  XCVIIL 

The  Infinite  Mind  is  the  Infinite  Benefactor  of  the  Univeree* 
ULb  the  Source  and  Centre  of  all  existence ;  as  the  great  Benefac- 
"^orof  all  beings ;  as  the  Subject  of  divine  blessedness,  and  excel* 
lence ;  God  would  be  regarded  by  such  a  disposition  with  supreme 
benevolence  and  complacency.  Piety  is  nothing  but  this  disposi- 
tion, directed  to  this  great  and  glorious  Being.  The  /ove,. which 
it  the  fulfilling  of  the  second  command  of  the  moral  Law,  is  also 
perfect  obedience  to  thefrst^  which  is  like  tmto  the  second*  With* 
out  love, /ear  becomes  a  base  and  pernicious  passion,  totally  des* 
titute  of  amiableness,  and  excellency ;  united  with  love,  or  in  a 
mind  where  love  reigns,  it  is  changed  into  the  sublime  character  of 
Reverence  ;  the  proper  and  filial  regard  to  God  fi*om  his  children. 
Dependence  without  love,  is  nothing.  Without  love.  Confidence  can- 
Dot  exist.  Hope  and  Joy  equally  suring  firom  it.  Gratitude  is  but 
one  manner,  in  which  it  is  exercisea. 

He,  who  loves  his  neighbour,  on  any  account,  with  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  Gospel,  will,  and  must,  of  course,  love  Us  Creator. 
If  he  exercises  evangelical  confidence  at  all ;  he  cannot  but  exer- 
cise it  supremely  in  God.  If  he  be  grateful  to  a  human  bene&a^ 
tor;  he  must  be  beyond  measure,  more  grateful  to  the  divine  Bene- 
fector.  If  he  love  moral  excellence  at  all ;  he  mvst,  more  than 
in  all  other  excellence,  delight  in  that,  which  glows  with  unceasing 
glory  in  the  Eternal  Mind. 

In  God,  therefore,  this  desirable  disposition  would  find  the  high- 
est object  of  all  its  attachments,  the  supreme  end  of  all  its  con^ 
duct.  To  him  the  devolien  of  such  a  spirit  would  be  complete, 
unceasing,  and  endless.  To  please,  obey,  and  eloriiy  him  woula 
be  the  instinctive,  and  the  commanding,  aim  of  &e  man,  in  whom 
it  was  found ;  and,  in  the  case  supposed,  in  all  men.  All  men 
would  be  changed  into  children  of  God.  The  earth  would  be- 
come  one  universal  temple,  fi*om  which  prayer,  and  praise,  anB 
faith,  and  love,  would  ascend  before  the  throne  of  God  and  the 
Lamb,  every  morning  and  every  evening.  Time,  hitherto  a  period  of 
'  sense  and  sm,  of  impiety,  and  rebellion,  would  be  converted  into 
an  universal  sabbath  of  peace  and  worship.  Holiness  to  the  Lord 
would  be  toritten  on  all  the  pursuits  and  employments  ofmanknUL 
Ziony  the  city  of  our  Oodj  would  extend  its  walls  from  the  rising 
r  to  the  setting  sun ;  and  comprehend  all  the  great  family  of  Adam 
within  its  circuit ;  while  on  its  gates  would  be  inscribed  in  immor* 
'    tal  characters,  Jehovah  is  herb. 

Let  me  now  ask,  whether  the  Love  of  the  Gospel,  the  spirit  of 
doing  eood,  is  not  in  the  view  of  all,  who  hear  me,  a  disposition 
more  desirable,  than  the  present  disposition  of  Man  f  Thmk  what 
the  world  now  is ;  and  what,  since  the  apostacy,  it  ever  has  beeiu 
Call  to  mind  the  private  wretchedness,  guilt,  and  debasement, 
which,  within  and  without  you,  deform  the  human  character,  and 
destroy  human  happiness.  Call  to  mind  the  public  sins,  whicli 
have  Uackened  tne  world  from  the  beginning ;  and  the  public 


I, 


8K9.  iCfUL]  ON  PUBUC  HAFPIIfESS.  I47 . 

miseries,  which  have  rune  with  groans,  and  shrieks,  throaghout  the 
whole  reign  of  time,  and  from  one  end  of  heaven  to  the  othei^ 
What  a  vast  proportion  of  these  evils  has  man  created  for  himselu^  ; 
and  his  fellow-creatures !    How  small  a  portion  has  God  creatend ! 
and  how  mild  and  proper  a  punishment  has  this  been  for  the  au- 
thors of  the  rest!    Ot  this  complication  of  guilt  and  wo,  every 
man  is,  in  some  degree,  the  subject,  and  the  author.    All  men  are 
daily  employed  in  complaining  of  others ;  and  none,  almost,  in  .- 
reforming  themselves.     Were  each  individual  to  begin  the  Qtsk  of 
withdrawing  from  the  common  mass  the  evils  which  he  occasions, 
the  work  would  be  easily  done.     Those,  produced  by  men,  would 
be  annihilated,  and  those,  occasioned  by  God,  would  cease;  be* 
cause,  where  there  were  no  transgressions,  God  would  not  exex^ 
cise  his  itrange  work  of  punithmerU. 

How  mighty  would  be  the  change !  Benevolence  would  take 
place  of  miali^nity,  friendship  of  contention,  peace  of  war,  truth  of 
ralschood,  and  happiness  of  misery.  This  dreary  world  would  be- 
come a  Paradise.  The  brutal,  deformed  character  of  man,  would 
give  place  to  .the  holiness  and  dignity  of  angels,  and  all  the  per* 
plezed,  melancholy,  and  distressing  scene  of  time  would  assume 
the  order,  beauty,  and  glory,  of  the  celestial  system. 

With  the  najture  and  effects  of  the  present  human  character,  the 
selfishness  of  man,  so  fondly,  proudly,  and  obstinately  cherished 
by  every  human  breast,  you  are  all,  at  least  in  some  decree,  ac- 
quainted. It  is  scarcely  necessary,  that  I  should  recall  to  your 
minds  the  universal  corruption  of  the  aniidiluvian  world;  ana  the 
violence  and  pollution,  wnich  rendered  this  earth  too  impure,  and 
deformed,  to  be  any  longer  seen  by  the  perfect  eye  of  Jehovah. 
It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remind  you  ot  the  premature  apostacy, 
which  followed  the  deluge ;  the  brutal  idolatry,  which,  like  a  cloud 
from  the  .bottomless  pit,  darkened  this  great  elobe  to  the  four  ends 
of  heaven ;  the  putrid  infection,  which  taintea  Sodom  and  Gotmt* 
rah  ;  the  rank  and  rotten  growth  of  sin,  which  poisoned  and  de- 
stroyed the  nations  of  Canaan  ;  the  deplorable  defections  of  Israel 
and  Judah;  the  bloody  oppressions  of  Assyriaj  Babylon^  and  Per* 
ria;  the  monstrous  ambition,  and  wild  ravages,  oi  Alexander  ;  the 
base  treacheries,  and  deformed  cruelties,  of  his  followers  ;  the 
iron-handed  plunder,  butchery,  and  devastation  of  Rome  ;  the  ter*  • 
rible  ravages  of  Mohammed  and  his  disciples  ;  or  the  fearful  waste 
of  man  by  Alaricj  Attihy  and  their  barbarous  companions  in 
daughter.  As  little  necessity  is  there  to  detail  the  wars,  and  ruins, 
of  modem  Europe  ;  the  massacres  of  the  Romish  Hierarchtf,  the 
tortures  of  the  Inquisition^  the  absolutions  and  indulgencies  issued 
from  the  Vatican^  to  pardon  sin,  and  to  sanction  rebellion  against 
God.  Your  minds  must  be  familiarized  to  the  lamentable  degra- 
dation, the  amazing  misc^ries,  the  death-like  slavery  of  the  nations, 
which  fill  the  continent  of  Africa.  You  cannot  be  unacouainted 
with  the  swinish  brutism  of  the  Chinese  i  the  more  brutal  oefonni- 


<r> 


148  EFFECTS  OF  BENEVOLENCE  [SEft.  ZCVIIL 

*:     ty,  tha  tiger-Uke  thirst  for  blood,  of  the  Hindoos  and  of  the  strari' 

ijits,  who  have  successively  invaded  Hindostan  ;  the  fell  and  fiend- 
ike  cruelty  that  has  macie  moderp  Persia  a  desert ;  the  stupid, 
,  but  furious  superstition,  and  the  tainted  impurity  of  Turkey.     To 
'^^    thes/e  monstrous  corruptions,  these  wonderful  sins  of  nations  claim- 
■     i^gj  generally,  the  name  of  civilized,  add  the  crimes  of  the  savage 
world ;  and  fasten  your  eyes  for  a  moment  on  the  wolfish  ra^e, 
w;hich  reigns,  and  riots,  in  the  human  animals,  prowling,  re^larly, 
Ibr  blood  and  havoc  around  the  deserts  of  America  and  Asia :  and 
•         jou  will  be  presented  with  an  imperfect,  but  for  my  purpose  a  suf- 
ncient,  exemplification  of  the  spirit,  which  rules  the  heart  of  man, 
lip^ctuates  the  vast  family  of  Adam. 
.  A?       ISut  this  spirit  is  unnecessary  to  man.     The  disposition,  which  I 
^    h^e  descrioed,  might  just  as  easily  inform  the  mind,  and  control 
the  conduct.     We  might  as  easily  be  benevolent,  as  selfish  ;  virtu- 
o&s  as/sinfuL     No  new  faculties  are  necessary  ;  and  no  change 
is  reauired,  but  of  the  disposition;     How  superior  is  the  disposi- 
tion, nere  illustrated,  to  that,  whose  eflects  have  been  so  uniformly 
dreadful !     Hitherto  1  have  used  the  language  of  supposition  only ; 
and  have  declared,  that,  if  such  were  tne  character  of  our  race, 
such  also  tpoiUd  be  the  stnie  of  this  unhappy  world.      Now  I 
inform  you,  that  such,  one  d  ; ,  will  be  the  true  character  ^nd  state 
/         of  man. 

The  "period  will  one  day  arrive :  the  penod  is  now  on  the  wing: 
the  day  will  certainly  daw;n :  the  morning-star  is,  perhaps,  even 
now  ascendine  in  the  east,  of  that  day,  in  which  Christ  will  return, 
and  reign  on  tne  earth.  1  neither  intend,  nor  believe,  that  he  will 
appear  in  person^  until  the  great  and  final  day,  which  the  Scrip- 
1^ .  tures  emphatically  call  his  second  coming ;  for  the  heavens  must 
receive  him  until  the  times  of  the  restitution  of  all  things.  But  he 
will  appear  in  his  Providence,  and  by  his  Spirit,  to  renew  the  face 
of  the  earth.  A  new  heart  and  a  right  spirit  will  he  create  witfiin 
them.  His  law  he  will  write  in  their  hearts  /  and  his  fear  will  he 
put  in  their  minds  ;  and  their  sins,  and  their  iniquities,  will  he  re^ 
member  no  more.  This  new  heart,  this  right  spirit,  will  beno  other 
than  the  disposition,  which  has  been  here  considered ;  the  very 
obedience  of  thef  Law,  which  will  be  thus  written  ;  the  new  crea- 
tion, which  is  thus  promised. 

By  the  implantation  of  this  holy  character  in  the  soul,  a  change 
will  be  accomplished,  which  is  exhibited  in  the  Scriptures  in  terms 
of  hyperbolical  and  singular  sublimity.  In  their  present  state  of 
Apostacy,  mankind  are  considered  in  this  sacred  volume,  as  being 
f(  all  buried  in  a  death-like  sleep.  From  this  benumbing  lethargy, 
hopeless  and  endless,  unless  removed  by  Almighty  power,  they  are 
represented  as  roused  anew  to  consciousness,  to  feeling,  and  to 
action,  by  the  awakening  voice  of  God.  In  the  present  state,  they 
are^declared  to  be  madmen  ;  groping  in  the  gloom,  wantoning  in 
the  excesses,  and  venting  the  rage,  of  Bedlam     In  the  new  one, 


•KB.  XCVm.]  ON  fUBUC  HAFFIlfBSS.  149 

Ihey  are  exhibited  as  restored  to  reason,  to  sobriety,  to  intellectu-    4 
al  dignity  and  usefulness,  and  as  introduced  again  to  the  social^,    ' 
converse,  and  esteem,  of  rational  beings.     Originally,  tney  are 
prisoners  to  sin  and  Satan,  the  victims  of  turpitude,  and  the  sport 
of  fiends :   yet  they  are  prisoners  of  hope*     In  their  renovation    ^ 
they  have  heard  liberttf  proclaimed  to  ihe  captive^  and  the  openit^  .  .• 
<(fth€  prison  doors  to  tkem  that  are  homd;  and,  at  the  sound  of 
these  elad  tidings,  they  have  shaken  oflf  their  chains,  and  escaped 
from  iBeir  dungeon  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  tlu  Sons  of  God.    <|j| . 
their  present  state;  thev  are  pronounced  to  be  dead,  and  falloii 
•  tc^ether  in  one  great  valley  of  the  shadow  o( death;  the  appM^ 
ed  and  immense  receptacle  of  departed  men ;  where  their  ^fMl 
are  dispersed  over  the  waste ;  dried,  whitened,  and  returning- to     . 
their  original  dust.    A  voice  from  heaven,  resounding  through  Ae    * 
regions  of  this  immense  catacomb,  commands  the  scatterea  fig- 
ments to  assemble  from  the  four  corners  of  heaven ;  to  re-onite  m 
their  proper  places  ;  and  to  constitute  anew  the  forms  of  men.    A 
noise,  a  shaking,  a  rustling,  is  heard  over  the  vast  Golgotha  ;  a 
eeneral  commotion  begins ;  and,  moved  by  an  instinctive  power, 
bone  seeks  its  kindred  oone ;  the  sinews  and  flesh  spontaneously 
arise,  and  cover  the  naked  form ;  and  the  Spirit  of  life  breathes 
with  one  divine  and  universal  energy  on  the  unnumbered  multi- 
tude.    Inspired  thus  with  breath,  and  life,  the  great  host  of  man- 
kind instinctively  rise,  and  stand  on  their  feet,  atid  live  again  with 
immortal  life.     The  great  world  of  death  is  filled  with  animated 
beings ;  and  throughout  its  amazing  regions,  those  who  were  dead 
are  alive  again,  and  those  who  were  lost  to  the  creation  are  found. 
This  resurrection  is  no  other,  than  a  resurrection  to  spiritual 
life ;  no  other,  than  an  assumption  of  this  new  and  heavenly  char- 
acter.    This  character,  this  disposition,  will  constitute  the  sum,       -'^ 
and  the  glory,  of  the  Millennial  state,  and  the  foundation  of  all  its 
blessings.     When  the  heavens  shall  drop  down  dew  from  above,  the 
skies  pour  down  righteousness,  and  the  earth  open,  and  bring  forth 
salvation;  all  the  external  cood,  all  the  splendour  and  distmction, 
of  that  happy  period,  will  follow  as  thin^  of  course ;  as  conse- 
quences, wnicn,  in  the  divine  system.  Virtue  draws  in  its  train. 

The  Lord  of  hosts  toill,  therefore,  make  for  all  nations,  a  feast  - 
rffai  things,  a  feast  of  wines  on  the  lees  well  refined.  '  The  Lord 
of  hosts  wUl  swallow  up  death  in  victory;  and  will  wipe  away  the 
tears  from  all  faces  ;  and  will  take  away  the  reproach  of  his  people 
from  all  the  earth.  He  vnll  lay  the  stones  of  Zion  with  fair  colours^ 
and  her  foundations  with  Sapphires  ;  toill  make  her  windows  of  agates^ 
her  gates  of  carbuncles,  ana  all  her  borders  of  pleasant  stones.  Jlnd 
ihe  ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return,  and  come  to  Zion  with  songe. 
and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  heads ;  they  shall  obtain  joy  turn 
gladness;  and  sorrow  and  sighing  shall  flee  amay. 


,♦ 


■'♦. 


I. 


SERMON  XCIX. 


THE   LAW   or   OOD. — THE    SECOND   GREAT   COMMANDMENT. UTIL* 

ITT   THE    FOUNDATION   OF    VIRTUE. 


Aert  DC.  96. — /  have  thewtd  you  all  ihingtj  homjM  to  JthAfing,  ye  ought  to  nqr- 
foti  the  weak;  and  to  remember  the  wordi jjgm' iMd  Jetiu^Jmg  he  said,  H  U 
more  bletted  to  givet  than  to  receive.  *  ^^  -j^^ 

A  I 

In  myCwolost'discourses,  I  endeavoured  to  show  by  a  variety 
of  argumeoQ)  Chat  a  disposition  voluntarily  employed  in  doing  goo(^ 
is  productive  of  more  rersonal  and  Public  happiness,  than  any 
other  can  be.  In  those  discourses,  and  in  several  fireceding  ones, 
it  has,  iflmili&ke  not,  been  sufficiently  proved,  that  the  same 
disposition  in  the  Creator  and  his  intelligent  creatures  is  the  source 
not  only  of  more  happiness  to  the  Creation  at  large,  than  any 
other,  but  of  all  the  nappiness. which  has  existed  or  will  ever 
exist. 

Virtue,  or  Moral  Excellence,  is  an  object  of  such  high  import, 
as  to  have  engaged,  in  every  enlightened  country,  and  period, 
the  deepest  attention  of  mankind,  ft  has,  of  course,  been  the  sub  • 
ject  of  the  most  laborious  investigations,  and  of  very  numerous 
discussions.  Inquisitive  men  have  asked  with  no  small  anxiety, 
«  What  is  Virtue  ?"  "  What  is  its  nature  ?"  "  What  is  its  excel- 
lence  ?"  And,  *'  What  is  the  foundation,  on  which  this  excellence 
rests  ?"  To  these  questions,  widely  different  and  directly  oppo- 
site onswers  have  been  given.  In  modern  times,  and  in  this  as  wcU 
as  other  countries,  much  debate  has  existed  concerning  f Ac  Fdnndo' 
Hon  of  ViriuBm  It  has  been  said  to  be  founded  in  the  Xaturt  oj 
things  ;  in  the  Reason  of  things ;  in  the  Fitness  of  things  ;  in  th$ 
Will  of  God  ^  and  in  dtiliti/.  My  intention  in  this  discourse  is  to 
examine  the  nature  of  this  subject. 

The  phrase,  the  foundation  of  Virtue,  has  been  very  differeillly 
understood  by  different  writers.  Indeed,  the  word,  foundation^ 
in  this  case  seems  to  be  a  defective  one ;  as  being  ambiguous ;  and, 
therefore,  exposed  to  different  interpretations.  When  Virtue  is 
said  to  be  founded  in  the  Will  of  God,  or  in  Utility^  some  writers  ap- 
pear to  intend  by  this  phraseology,  that  the  lull  of  God,  or  CZ/i/f- 
ijfj  is  the  Rule,  Measure,  ot  Directory,  of  virtuous  conduct*  Others 
evidently  intend,  tliat  one,  or  the  other,  of  these  things,  is  what  cor^ 
ititules  it  virliu ;  ihakes  it  valuable,  excellent,  lovely,  praiseworthy^ 
and  reioardable.  Ft  is,  therefore,  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to 
observe,  antecedently  to  entering  on  this  discussion,  that  /  use  th$ 


3ER.  XCIX,]  UTILITY  THE  FOUNDATION,  lui. 

pAni.T  in  the  sense  last  mentioned^  nnd  intend,  by  ike  FtMtiiialion  of 
y'lrliir.  thai  ■which  conslitules  ill  valuf  and  eiceilenrr.  It  js  ncccs- 
san,  :ilso,  to  premise  f.irtlicr,  that  by  the  word,  Ulildi/,  I  mean  a 
Te.  li.'iicy  toyroditct  Happinesi. 

lliiving  premised  these  tilings,  1  shall  endeavour,  in  the  follow 
iug  discourse,  to  support  this  Doctrine:  that  Virtue  is  rou»o- 
KE>  iv  Utility. 

'I'lic  Text  is  a  general  nnd  iadirccl  declaration  of  this  doctnne> 
Thi'  word,  blessed,  is  sometimes  used  to  denote  a  state,  happy  ia 
iis<li';  and  sometimes  a  stale,  made  happy,  or  blessed,  by  God. 
To  ^ice,  in  the  sense  of  the  text,  is  voluntarily  to  communicate  iiap- 
pinrM  ;  or,  in  O&eT  words,  (o  bt  voluntarily  useful.  As  we  are  in 
fact  made  happy  by  God,  whenever  we  arc  happy ;  it  is  evjdcnt, 
that  tho5emorafbcings,  who  are  most  happy,  being  mi^  so  by  Him 
as  a  reward  of  their  character  and  conduct,  and  not  nierely  by  the 
nature  of  that  character  and  conduct,  are  most  anprovre  by  him. 
Thai,  which  is  ipost  approved  by  God,  is  in  itself  most  excellent. 
But  ihe  text  informs  us,  that  voluntary  usefulness  is  ibohI  approved 
by  God,  because  it  is  peculiarly  blessed  by  himj  and  is,  there- 
fore, the  hichesl  excellence.  A  man  may  be  virtuous  in  receiving 
good  at  the  nands  of  his  fellow -ere  a  lures.  But  his  virtue  will  con- 
sist only  m  the  disposition,  with  which  he  receives  it:  his  grati- 
tude ;  his  desire  to  glorify  God  ;  and  his  wishes  to  requite,  when- 
ever it  shall  be  in  his  power,  his  created  benefactors;  This  is 
being  useful  in  the  only  way,  which  the  situation,  here  supposed, 
allon-s ;  and  the  only  thing  which  is  virtuous,  or  excellent,  in  the 
mere  state  of  receiving  good. 

To  give,  or  communicate  good,  is  a  nobler,  and  more  excellent 
(tatc  of  being,  than  that  of  receiving  good  can  be  ;  because  the 
giver  is  voluntarily  the  originator  of  happiness.  In  this  conduct 
ne  resembles  Goa  himself,  the  Giver  of  all  good,  in  that  characler- 
istic.  which  is  the  peculiar  excellence  and  glory  of  his  nature.  Ac- 
cordingly God  loves,  and  for  this  reason  blesses,  him,  in  a  pre- 
eminent degree.    The  proof  of  his  superior  excellence  is  complete 


in  ihc  fact,  that  he  is  peculiarly  blessed:  for  these  peculiar  bless- 
itigK,  which  he  receives,  are  indubitable  evidence  of  the  peculiar 
&«Mir  of  God ;  and  the  peculiar  favour  of  God  is  equal  evidence 


offMcitliar  excellence  in  him,  who  is  thus  blessed.  But  the  only 
excellence,  here  alleged,  or  supposed,  by  Christ,  is  the  spirit  of 
doing  good ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  spirit  of  voluntary  usefulness. 
In  this  spirit,  then,  Virtue  or  moral  excellence  consists;  and  the 
onlv  excellence,  here  sunnosed,  is  ofcourse  founded  in  Utility. 

To  the  evidence,  furnisned  by  the  text,  both  Reason  and  Rei-e- 
blion  add  ample  confirmation.  This,  I  trust,  will  sufficiently  ap- 
pear in  Ihe  course  of  ihc  following  Observations. 

1st.    yirlut  is  notftmnded  in  the  Will  of  God. 

Those  who  hold  the  doctrine,  which  I  have  here  denied,  may 
have  l>ccn  led,  unwittingly,  to  adopt  it  from  an  apprehension,  that 


i 


k 


■ 


||^2  imUtt  THE  FOUNDATION  [tOM.  XCOL 

they  could  not  ascribe  too  much  to  God.  This  apprehension  is, 
without  doubt,  generally  just ;  yet  it  is  not  just  in  the  absolute 
sense.  There  is  oeilher  irreverence,  nor  mistake,  in  saying,  that 
Omnipotence  cannoit  create  that,  which  will  be  self-contradictory ; 
make  two  and  two  fiye ;  nor  recall  the  existence  of  a  past  event; 
because  these  things  would  be  impossible  in  their  own  nature.  In 
the  same  manner,  to  ascribe  to  God  that,  which  is  not  done  by 
him,  though  the  ascription  may  AoYf  irom  reverence  to  his  charac- 
ter, is  not  yet  dictated  by  reverence.  That,  which  God  m  fact 
does,  is  more  honourable  to  him,  than  any  thing  else  can  be ;  and 
ncT  error  can  in  its  nature  be  reverential  towards  God,  or  reqiiired 
by  him  of  his  creatures. 

The  Doctrine,  that  Virtue  is  founded  in  tlu  will  ofGodj  supposes, 
that  that  J  which  is  now  virtue^  became  suchy  became  excelletU^  valua* 
bUy  praiseworthy,  and  rewardable,  because  God  willed  it  to  be  so  ; 
and,  had  he  not  willed  it  to  be  so,  it  would  not  have  been  virtue*  Of 
"  •/  ■  course,  if  we  were  to  suppose  Intelligent  beings  created,  and  left, 
without  iny  law,  to  choose  their  conduct;  or,  if  we  were  to  sup> 

Eose  the  universe  to  exist,  just  as  it  now  exists,  and  exist  thus  either 
y  chance,  or  necessity;  that,  which  u  now  virtuous,  excellent, 
and  praiseworthy,  would  at  the  utmost  possess  a  nature  merely 
indifferent ;  and,  although  all  other  beings  remained  just  as  they 
now  are,  would  cease  lo  be  excellent,  lovely,  and  deserving  of 
approbation.  According  to  the  same  scheme  also,  that,  which  is 
now  sinful,  or  vicious,  would  cease  to  be  of  this  nature;  and  no 
longer  merit  hatred,  blame,  or  punishment.  In  plainer  language, 
veracity  and  lying,  honesty  and  fraud,  justice  and  oppression, 
^  kindness  and  cruelty,  although  exactly  the  same  things  which  they 
no^w  are,  and  although  producing  exactly  the  same  effects,  would 
no  more  possess  their  present,  opposite  moral  character;  but 
would  equally  deserve  our  love  and  approbation,  or  our  hatred  and 
disesteem.  If  virtue  and  vice  are  such,  only  because  God  willed 
them  to  be  such  ;  if  virtue  is  excellent,  and  vice  worthless,  only 
because  he  willed  them  to  be  so ;  then  vice  in  itself  is  just  as  ex- 
cellent as  virtue,  and  virtue  just  as  worthless  as  vice.  Let  me  ask. 
Can  anv  man  believe  this  to  be  true  ? 

Further,  the  supposition,  that  virtue  is  founded  in  the  will  of 
God,  implies,  that  God  willed  virtue  to  be  excellent  without  any 
reason.  If  virtue  and  vice  had,  originally,  or  as  tliey  wei*e  seen 
by  the  eye  of  God,  no  moral  difference  in  their  nature ;  then  there 
was  plainly  no  reason,  whv  God  should  prefer,  or  why  he  actually 
preferred,  one  of  them  to  the  other.     There  was,  for  example,  no 

■•  reason,  why  he  chose,  and  required,  that  Intelligent  ci*caturei 

should  love  him,  and  each  other,  rather  than  that  they  shoidd  hate 
him,  and  hate  each  other.  In  choosing,  and  requiring,  that  they 
should  exercise  this  love,  God  acted,  therefore,  without  any  motive 

^  whatever.    Certainly,  no  sober  man  will  attribute  this  conduct 

Y  toGod« 


■t 


'         «Si 


SER.  XCnC]  OF  VIRTUB. 

This  supposition,  also,  is  inconsistent  with  the  Omniscience 
Gotl,  Every  thing  which  exists,  or  which  will  ever  c\isl,  was, 
ccceJeoily  to  its  existence,  or  in  other  words,  elernally  and  immu- 
(ably,  present  to  (he  divine  mind.  In  (he  saroe  manner,  ail  other, 
possible  things,  that  is,  things  which  God  could  have  created  if  he 
nad  pleased,  were  also  present  lo  his  view.  Every  man  knows, 
that  a  vast  multitude  of  such  things  are  successively  present  to  his 
own  Imagination  ;  and  that  hecftQ  tliink  of  new  worlds,  new  beings 
to  inhabit  them,  and  new  fui-niturc  to  replenish  them.  But,  unques- 
tionably, God  knows  all  things  which  are  known  by  his  creatures, 
and  inmiitely  more.  When  created  things  were  thus  present  lo  his 
eye,  antecedenily  to  ihar  existence,  they  were  exactly  the  same 
Inings  in  his  view,  which  they  afterwards  were,  when  they  begao 
to  exist ;  had  exactly  the  same  natures ;  sustained  exactly  the  same 
relations ;  and  were  just  as  good,  indifferent,  or  evil,  just  as  excel* 
lent  or  worthless,  as  amiable  or  hateful,  as  commendable  or  blame- 
worthy, as  rewardabie  or  punishable,  as  they  afterwards  were  in 
&ct.  This  may  be  illustrated  by  a  familiar  example.  Most  per- 
sons have  read  more  or  less  of  those  liciilious  histories,  which  are 
called  novels;  and  every  person  knows,  that  the  several  actors, 
exhibited  in  them,  never  had  any  real  existence.  Yet  every  one 
knows  equally  well,  that  the  characters,  which  they  severally  sus- 
tain, are  as  really  good  or  evil,  lovely  or  hateful,  praiseworthy  or 
hlamcable,  as  the  same  characters  of  the  same  persons  would  be, 
had  they  all  been  living  men  and  women.  It  is,  therefore,  imao- 
swerably  evident,  that  moral  characters, when  merely  seen  in  con- 
lemplaiion,  arc,  independently  of  their  actual  existence  in  living 
beicgs,  and  therefore  before  ihey  have  existed  in  such  beings,  as 
rell  as  when  they  never  exist  at  all  in  this  manner,  good  or  evil  to 
the  eye  of  the  mind.  Of  course,  they  are  good  or  evd  in  their 
own  nature.  Of  course,  they  were  seen  to  be  good  or  evil  by  the 
Omniscience  of  God.  It  is,  therefore,  inconsistent  with  the  doc- 
trine, that  God  is  omniscient,  to  say,  that  virtue  is  founded  in  the 
Till  of  God. 

Again ;  The  scheme,  which  I  am  controverting,  not  only  involves 
ID  ii,  that  mankind,  with  all  (heir  impiety,  injustice,  cruelty,  op- 
pression, wars,  and  butcheries,  are  in  their  naiure  equally  amiable, 
Bnd  excellent,  as  Angels,  with  all  their  truth  and  benevolence  j  but 
also,  that  the  character  of  Fiends  is  in  itself,  and  independendy  of 
ihe  fact,  thai  God  chose  i(  should  be  otherwise,  just  as  lovely,  ex- 
cellent, and  praiseworthy,  as  that  of  Angels.  If,  then,  God  had 
willed  the  character,  which  Satan  adopted^  and  sustains,  to  be  mor^ 
al  excellence,  and  that,  which  Gabriel  sustains,  lo  be  moral  worth- 
Icssness;  these  two  beings,  continuing  In  every  other  respect  the 
same,  would  have  interchanged  their  characters.  Satan  would 
have  become  entirely  lovely,  and  Gabriel  entirely  detestable* 
Huxl  not  he,  who  can  believe  this  doctrine,  as  easily  believe, 
that  if  God  had  willed  it,  two  and  two  would  have  become  Hve? 

Vol.  III.  20 


nc,  of       .  ^ 


154  imUTT  THE  FOUKDATION  [9I1IL  XCIX,^ 

Is  it  at  all  easier  to  believe,  that  truth  and  falsehood  can  inter- 
change their  natures,  than  that  a  square  and  a  circle  can  interchange 
theirs? 

Finally;  if  virtue  and  vice,  or  sin  and  holiness,  are  founded  only 
in  llie  will  of  God ;  then,  i  ask,  What  is  the  Nature  of  that  WilU 
We  are  accustomed  to  say,  ihe  Scriptures  are  accustomed  lo  say, 
that  God  is  holy,  righteous,  good,  and  glorious  in  holiness  :  expres- 
sions which,  together  with  many  others  of  the  same  nature,  indicate 
that  God  himself,  and  therefore,  that  the  will  of  God,  is  excellent, 
and  supremely  deserving  of  his  own  infinite  love,  and  of  the  highest 
love  of  all  intelligent  creatures.  Does  this  excellence  of  God 
de|>eniJ  on  the  fact,  that  he  willed  his  moral  character,  and  there- 
fore his  Will,  lo  be  excellent  ?  Or  is  the  character  of  God,  and  of 
consequence  his  will,  excellent  in  its  own  nature  ?  If  the  divine 
character  be  not  excellent  in  its  own  nature,  and  independently  of 
any  act  of  the  divine  Will,  determining  that  it  should  be  so ;  laea^ 
if  God  had  been  a  being  infinitely  malevolent,  and  by  an  act  of  hu 
will  had  determined,  that  his  character  should  be  infinitely  excet 
lent,  it  would  of  course  have  become  infinitely  excellent;  and  he 
himself  would  have  deserved  to  be  loved,  praised,  and  glorified, 
for  his  infinite  malice,  cruelty,  and  oppression,  just  as  he  now  does 
for  his  infinite  goodness,  truth,  faithfulness,  and  mercy.  According 
to  this  scheme,  therefore,  there  is  no  original  moral  difference  be- 
tween the  characters  of  an  infinitely  malevolent  being,  and  an  iiH 
finitely  benevolent  one;  because  this  difference  depends  on  a 
mere  arbitrary  act  of  will,  and  not  at  all  on  the  respective  natures 
of  Ihe  things  themselves.  That  a  malevolent  being  would  have 
made  this  determination,  there  is  no  more  reason  lo  doubt,  than 
that  it  would  be  made  by  a  benevolent  being:  for  it  cannot  be 
doubted,  that  a  malevolent  being  would  have  entirely  loved  and 
honoured  himself.  The  question,  whether  God  is  a  benevolentj 
or  malevolent,  Being,  seems,  therefore,  to  be  nugatory :  for  all  our 
inquiries  concerning  the  subject,  which  Have  any  practical  import  ■ 
tancc,  terminate  in  this  single  question :  What  has  God  chosenf 
We  have  of  course  no  interest  in  asking  what  is  his  moral  i " 

tUK. 

The  Scriptures  certainly  exhibit  this  subject  in  a  very  differ  _ 
light.  They  every  where  consider  moral  things,  that  is,  both  moq 
beings,  and  their  actions,  as  differing  altogether  in  their  sevetfl 
natures,  and  independently  of  any  act  of  the  divine  will,  deter^ 
mining  that  they  should  thus  differ.  Particularly,  they  exhibit  God 
himself  not  only  as  being  holy,  righteous,  just,  true,  faithful,  kind, 
jftnd  merciful,  but  as  excellent  on  account  of  these  things;  infinitely 
excellent;  infinitely  glorious;  infinitely  deserving  of  the  love,  that 
is,  the  Complacency,  (the  kind  of  love  every  where  intended  ia 
this  discnurse)  of  his  Intelligent  creatures.  Accordingly,  God  ji 
often  spoken  of  as  cxrellcnl;  and  as  excellena/,  tn  Ihe  abstrati 
Thus,  fie  is  styled  the  Exceltenci/  0/ Jacob.    Hit  namt  is  said  to  i 


Ito^ 


8ER.  XCtX]  or  VIRTUE. 

txcellent  m  all  the  earth.  How  txctlhnt,  saith  the  Psalmist,  i*  thtf 
loving  kindncas.  The  Lord  of  hoiU,  says  Isaiah,  is  txcellent  m 
working.  In  all  ihuse  passages  it  Is  plainly  declared,  thai  God  is 
excellent  in  his  own  natu'e.  In  ihe  same  manner,  the  Scrijitures 
assert,  that  his  lam  is  perfect,  and  his  commandment  pure  ;  thai  hit 
stattUes  are  right,  and  his  judgments  altogether  righteous  ;  and  that 
•  kit  commandment  is  holy,  Just,  and  good:  that  is,  that  these  things 
possess  the  several  kinds  of  excellence,  attributed  to  them, in  their 
own  nature.  For  if  the  Scriptures  intended  only,  that  they  were 
good,  because  God  willed  ihem  to  be  so,  when  they  were  before 
neither  good  nor  evil;  it  would  have  been  mere  tautology  to  have 
used  this  language.  It  would  have  bten  no  more,  than  saying, 
that  Ihe  lata,  the  commandments,  and  the  statutes,  of  God  were  hu 
law,  commandments,  and  statutes  ;  this  fact  being,  according  to 
^  ihc  scheme  here  opposed,  all  that,  in  which  iheir  excellence  lies, 
'  In  the  same  manner,  when  it  is  said,  Thou  art  good,  and  doest 
good;  it  ought  to  be  said,  Thou  art,  what  thou  art  ;  and  dorst  what 
(Ami  doest,  for  this  is  all  that  is  meant,  according  to  the  scheme  ia 
question. 

In  ihe  same  manner,  the  Scriptures  declare,  that  the  righttout 
Lord  loveth  righteousness ;  and  thus  teach  us,  that  there  is  in  right- 
eousness a  cause,  a  reason,  or,  in  other  words,  a  nature,  for  which 
it  is,  and  deserves  to  be,  loved.  They  also  assure  us,  that  he  hatet 
wiclctdnett,  and  that  it  is  an  abomination  to  him.  There  is,  there- 
fore, a  reason,  why  he  hates  it.  As  he  always  hated  the  lat- 
ter, and  loved  the  former;  and,  therefore,  before  the  onr  was  for- 
bidden, and  the  other  reouired,  of  his  Intelligeat  creatures;  it  is 
certain,  that  the  one  was  nateful,  and  the  other  lovely,  in  its  own 
nature. 

In  Jer.  ix.  24,  it  is  said.  Let  him  that  glorielk  glory  in  this  ;  that 
he  underttandeth,  and  knoaeth  me  y  that  I  am  the  Lotto,  which  ts- 
.     trcite  loving-kindness,  judgment  and  righteousntts,  in  the  earth  ;  for 
'     in  these  things  I  delight,  saiih  the  Lord.     In  this  passage  God  re- 
quires mankind  to  glory  not  merely  because  he  acts,  but  because 
be  acts  in  such  a  manner ;  because  he  exercises  lomng-kindntti^ 
mdgment,  and  righteousness,  in  the  earthy  and  informs  us,  that  be 
~  liiinself  delights  in  these  things :  in  other  words,  because  they  are 
lovely  in  his  sight. 

In  Hebrews  vi.  18,  it  is  said,  that  it  is  impottibU  for  God  to  lie. 
If  at  any  given  time  it  is  impossible  for  God  to  lie ;  it  has  been 
always  impossible.  For  what  reason  ?  If  truth  and  falsehood  ore 
in  their  own  nature  indiSerenl ;  then,  certainly,  it  was  once  just  as 
easy  for  God  to  lie,  as  to  speak  trnlh.  The  only  reason,  why  it  ii 
now  impossible  for  him  to  utter  falsehood,  is,  thai  he  is  ulierly  ia< 

reposed  lo  this  conduct.  But  if  falsehood  and  truth  have  the 
■ame  moral  nature  in  themselves  ;  there  can  be  no  reason,  why  he 
was  originally  disposed  to  speik  truth,  rather  than  falsehood.  Yet 
lie  is  ii&iitcly  disposed  to  speak  lrulh.u>^  infinitely  indisposed  to 


j|56  uTiLrnr  the  foundation  [ser.  xcol 

titer  falsehood.  Falij^hood  is  therefore  totally  odious  in  itself,  and 
truth  altogether  desirable. 

Every  thing  contained  in  the  Scriptures,  relative  to  this  subjecti 
is  of  the  same  tcnour,  so  far  as  I  nav^  been  ahfe  to  understand 
them,  with  the  passages  which  I  have  quoted.  Nor  have  I  found 
in  them  a  single  hint,  that  virtue  and  vice  have  not  in  themselves  a 
Jotally  different  moral  nature ;  or  that  they  depend  for  their  excel- 
lence, 4tnd  worthlessness,  on  an  act  of  the  divine  will.  On  the 
contrary,  the  whole  drift  of  the  Scriptures  is  to  exhibit  them,  as 
poisessed  of  these  characteristics  in  themselves ;  and  as,  for  this 
reason,  chosen  and  required  on  the  one  hand,  and  rejected  and  for- 
bidden on  the  other. 

There  are  persons,  who  speak  of  the  Will  of  God  as  constituting 
the  nature  of  things,  when  they  only  mean,  that  it  gives  them  ex- 
istence*   These  persons  appear  not  to  discern,  that  the  nature  of 
the  thiAg  is  exactly  the  same,  whether  it  exist,  or  is  only  seen  in 
contemplation.     The  Achilles  of  Horner^  the  JEnea$  of  Ptrgilj  the 
Lear  ot  Shakspeare^  and  the  Grandison  of  Richardson^  have  all  the 
same  character,  which  real  men,  answering  severally  to  the  de- 
scriptions of  tbiun,  would  possess.     The  will  of  God  gives  birth 
to  the  existence  of  all  things.    But  the  things  themselves,  as  seen 
'  by  the  divine  Mitid,  have  exacdy  the  same  nature,  and  sustain  the 
same  relations  to  each  other ;  have  the  same  value  or  worthless- 
ness, the  same  excellence  or  turpitude ;  which  they  have,  when 
thev  reallv  exist.     This  nature  is  what  makes  them  desirable,  or 
undesirable,  to  the  eye  of  God ;  and  induces  him  either  to  choose, 
or  reject  them.     While  it  is  true,  therefore,  that  the  will  of  God 
^ves  birth  to  all  things,  and  to  their  several  natures,  as  really  ex- 
isting in  fact ;  it  is  equally  true,  that,  as  seen  by  the  divine  ifind, 
the  same  things  had  exactly  the  same  nature  before  they  existed. 
>  A  house,  before  it  is  built,  and  when  formed  merely  in  a  plan,  has 
exactly  the  same  fieure  and  proportions,  as  seen  Jby  the  mind  of 
the  builder,  which  it  has,  after  it  is  built  according  ta  this  plan. 
Truth  and  falsehood,  right  and  wrong,  'in  creatures,  were  exactly 
the  same  things  to  the  eye  of  Omniscience,  before,  and  after,  they     < 
existed.  j 

From  these  considerations  it  is,  I  apprehend,  evident,  that  thi 

Fmmdation  of  virtue  is  not  in  the  Will  ojGodj  but  in  the  Jflature  if 

things.     The  next  object  of  inquiry,  therefore,  is,   Where  in  the 

nature  of  things  shall  wt  find  this  foundation  ?    I  begin  my  answer 

'  to  this  question  by  observing, 

3dly.  That  there  is  no  Ulttmate  Good  but  HiWffiness*  ' 

By  Ultifnate,  Good,  I  intend  that^  which  is  originally  denominated 
•  gooa.     Good  is  of  two  kinds  onl^  :  Happiness,  and  the  Causes, 
f'Or Means,  of  happiness.     Happiness  is  the  ulthnate  good:  the    -: 
'Causes,  or  means,  of  happiness,  are  good,  only  because  they  pro-    ■ 
^  duce  it.     Thus  fruit  is  good,  because  it  is  pleasant  to  the  taste*    ■ 
The  treci  on  which  it  grows,  is  good*  because  it  produces  iL    ■ 

I 

\ 


ZCIX]  OF  VIBTDE.  |» 

Health  is  good  in  itself:  a  medicine  is  goo^f  because  it  presenresi 
or  restores,  it. 

We  are  accostomed^o  hear  so  much  said,  and  truly  said,  con- 
cerning the  excellence,  beauty,  and  glory,  of  Virtue,  that  we  are 
readv  to  conceive,  and  speak,  of  it,  as  beine  Original,  or  Ultimate 
eood,  independently  of  the  happiness,  which  it  brings  with  it. 
Sfay,  we  arc  ready  to  feel  dissatisfied  with  ourselves  and  others^ 
for  calling  this  position  in  question ;  to  consider  this  conduct  u 
involving  a  kind  of  irreverence  towards  this  glorious  object ;  as  di« 
minishing  its  importance,  and  obscuring  its  lustre.  This,  however, 
arises  from  mere  misapprehension.     If  virtue  brought  with  it  no 
enjoyment  to  us,  and  produced  no  happiness  to  others ;  it  would 
be  wholly  destitute  of  all  the  importance,  beauty,  and  glory,  with 
which  it  is  now  invested.     Let  any  good  man  ask  himself  what 
that  is,  for  which  he  values  his  own  virtue ;  what  constitutes  the 
commendations  of  it  in  the  conversation  and  writings,  peflicularly 
the  sermons,  with  which  he  is  acquainted;  and  what  is  the  amount 
€i  all  that,  for  which  it  is  commended  in  the  Scriptures ;  and  he  will 
find  every  idea,  which  he  forms  of  it  distinctly  and  definitely,  com- 
pletely summed  up  in  these  two  things :  that  it  is  the  means  of  gliy- 
rv  to  God,  and  of  good  io  his  creatures.    I  have  shown  in  a  former 
dbscourse,  that  to  glorify  God,  that  is,  voluntarily,  (the  thing  which  ' 
is  here  intended)  is  exactly  the  same  conduct  towards  him,  which, 
when  directed  towards  creatures,  produces  their  happiness.    It  is, 
in  truth,  doing  all  that,  which  it  is  in  our  power  to  do,  towards  the 
happiness  of  the  Creator.     The  happiness  of  God  consists  in  the 
enjoyment,  finmished  partly  by  his  sufficiency  for  all  great  and  glo- 
rious purposes,  and  partly  by  the  actual  accomplishment  of  these 
purposes.     I  separate  these  things,  only  for  the  sake  of  exhibiting 
uem  more  distinctly  to  view ;  and  am  well  aware,  that  as  they  ex- 
ist in  the  divine  Mind,  they  are  absolutely  inseparable.    The  Lord^ 
nuth  the  Psalmist,  shall  rejoice  in  his  works.     Had  these  works 
Bever  existed ;  God  would  not  thus  rejoice.     God  is  also  said  to 
JkKght  in  the  upright ;  and  io  delight  m  Atf  Church.    Were  there 
BO  upright  persons ;  were  there  no  Church  $   this  delight  would 
ceMe.     It  is  therefore  true  in  the  proper  sense,  that  virtuous  per- 
tODS,  by  voluntarily  glorifying  God,  become  the  objects  of  his  de- 
]^t ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  means  of  happiness,  or  enjoyment, 
to  him.     It  will  not  be  supposed,  th^t  Goa  is,  for  this  reason,  de- 
ndent  on  his  creatures  for  his  happiness,  or  for  anv  part  of 
iW    These  very  creatures  are  absolutely  dependent  on  Him ;  and 
ve  made  by  himself  the  objects  of  his  delight :  and  suipb  they 
become  by  the  same  voluntary  conduct,  which  in  other  cases  pro- 
duces happiness  in  creatures.     When  we  consider  virtue,  as  it  re- 
elects creatures  only,  the  character,  which  I  have  given  to  it,  if 
BMNre  easily  seen,  and  more  readily  comprehended.     It  may  easily 
be  seen,  in  this  case,  that  all  its  value  consists  in  the  enjoyment 
wkieh  either  attendsi  or  follows  it*    All  the  exercises  of  virtue  are 


158  trriUTt  THE  FOONDATIOlf  [8KR.  XCUL 

delightful  in  themselves.  It  is  delightful  to  do  good  to  others ;  to  see 
them  happy,  and  made  happy  by  our  means ;  to  enjoy  peace  of 
conscience,  and  self-approbation*  These  and  the  like  enjoyments, 
may  be  said  to  attend  virtue  /  and,  it  is  well  known,  enter  largely 
into  every  account,  which  is  given  of  its'  excellence.  The  Qmse* 
quences  of  virtue  are  no  other,  than  the  ^ood,  which  it  produces  in 
originating,  and  increasing,  social  happmess:  and  these,  together 
with  the  articles  involved  in  the  two  preceding  considerations^ 
make  up  the  whole  amount  of  all  the  commendations  of  this  divine 
object,  given  either  by  the  Scriptures,  or  by  mankind.  The  ex- 
cellence of  virtue^  therefore,  consists  wholly  in  this :  that  it  is  the 
cause  of  good  J  that  is,  of  happiness^  the  Ultimate  good;  the  onfy 
thing,  for  which  virtue  is  valuable. 

Virtue  in  God,  or  Benevolence,  is  on  all  hands  considered  as  the 
|;lory,  and  excellency,  of  the  divine  character.  What  is  Benevo- 
lence ?  The  love  of  doing  good ;  or  a  disposition  to  produce  hap- 
piness. In  what  does  its  excellence  consist  ?  In  this :  that  it  it 
the  voluntary  cause  of  hapj^iness.  Take  away  this  single  attribute 
of  Virtue ;  and  it  will  be  easily  seen,  that  its  excellence  is  all  taken 
away  also. 

These  observations  prove,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  happiness  is  the 
only  Ultimate  good ;  and  that  virtue  is  termed  good,  only  as  being 
the  cause  of  happiness. 

3dly.  Virtue  is  the  only  original  cause  of  happiness* 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  that  Involuntary  beings  can,  of 
themselves,  produce  nothing ;  as  bein^  absolutely  inactive ;  and 
that  there  are  no  Active  beings,  beside  those  which  are  Voluntary* 
But  voluntary  beings  produce  happiness,  only  when  they  are  dis- 
posed to  produce  it :  and  the  onlv  disposition,  which  prompts  to 
the  production  of  it,  is  Virtue.  This  is  so  obvious,  after  what  has 
been  said,  as  to  need  no  further  illustration. 

Contrivance  and  Activity  are  the  original  sources  of  all  the  e^ 
fects,  or  changes,  which  take  place  in  the  Universe ;  particularly 
of  all  the  happiness,  which  it  contains.  Contrivance  and  Activity 
in  the  Creator  gave  birth  to  all  existence,  except  his  own.  Con- 
trivance and  Activity  in  Intelligent  creatures,  under  God,  give  birth 
to  all  the  happiness,  of  which  they  are  the  sources  to  themselves 
iind  each  otner. 

Minds  are  active,  only  by  means  of  the  power  of  Willing.  The 
two  great  dispositions  of  minds,  by  which  all  their  volitions  are 
characterised,  and  directed,  are  Benevolence  and  Selfishness.  Be- 
nevolence is  Virtue;  Selfishness  is  Sin.  Benevolence  aims  to 
promote  happiness  m  all  beings  capable  of  happiness :  Selfish- 
ness, at  the  promotion  of  the  private,  separate  happiness  ofansf 
subordinating  to  it  that  of  all  others,  ana  opposing  thett  0f  otherSp 
whenever  it  is  considered  as  inconsistent  witn  that  of  one's  selL 
Bcnevolcncej  therefore,  diruts  the  whole  active  power,  or  energy^  ^f 
M#  mmd^  jii  wAtcA  il  e«ifl#,  to  tks  production  of  the  most  sttosmm 


« 


SOL  ZCDL]  OP  yiBTUE.  ^  I59 

ktppiruss.  This  is  what  I  intend  by  the  Utility  of  Virtue;  and  that^ 
in  which,  as  it  appears  to  my  own  view,  all  its  excellence  is  found. 
Sin  is  naturally,  and  necessarily,  the  parent  of  misery ;  since  it 
anus  every  individual  against  the  interest  of  every  other. 

Were  sin  in  its  own  proper  tendencv  to  produce,  invariably^ 
the  same  good,  which  it  is  the  tendency  of  virtue  tp  produce ;  were 
it  the  means,  invariably,  of  the  same  glory  to  God,  and  of  the  same 
enjoyment  to  the  Universe ;  no  reason  is  apparent  to  me,  why  it 
would  not  become  excellent,  commendable,  and  rewardable,  in  the 
same  manner,  as  Virtue  now  is.  Were  Virtue  regularly  to  effectu* 
ate  the  same  dishonour  to  God,  and  the  same  misery  to  Intelligent 
Creatures,  now  effectuated  by  sin ;  I  see  no  reason,  why  we  should 
not  attribute  to  it  all  the  odiousness,  blameworthiness,  and  desert 
of  punishment,  which  we  now  attribute  to  Sin.  All  this  is,  I  cob* 
fess,  impossible ;  and  is  rendered  so  by  the  nature  of  these  things* 
Still  the  supposition  may  be  allowably  made  for  the  purposes  of 
discussion. 

The  great  objection  to  this  doctrine  arises  from  a  misapprehen- 
sion of  me  subject.  It  is  this  :  that  if  Virtue  is  founded  m  UtUitUj 
then  Uiiliiy  becomes  the  Measure  of  virtue^  andj  of  course j  the  Rmt 
of  all  our  moral  conduct.  This  is  the  error  of  GodwujL;  and,  in  an 
ifidefinite  degree,  of  Paley^  and  several  other  writers.  Were  we 
omniscient,  and  able  to  discern  the  true  nature  of  all  the  effects  of 
our  conduct;  this  consequence  must  undoubtedly  be  admitted* 
To  the  eye  of  God  it  is  the  real  rule.  It  will  not,  I  trust,  be  deni- 
ed, that  he  has  chosen,  apd  required,  that  to  be  done  by  his  Intelli- 
gent creatures,  which  is  most  useful ;  or,  in  other  worois,  most  pro- 
ductive of  eood  to  the  universe,  and  of  glory  to  himself;  rather 
than  that  wnich  is  less  so.  But,  to  us.  Utility,  as  judged  of  by  our- 
selves, cannot  be  a  proper  rule  of  moral  conduct.  The  real  use^ 
fulness  of  our  conduct^  or  its  usefulness  upon  the  whole,  lies  in  the 
nature  of  all  its  effects,  considered  as  one  aggregate.  But  nothing  is 
more  evident,  than  that  few,  very  few  indeed,  of  these,  can  ever 
be  known  to  us  by  our  own  foresight.  If  the  information,  given 
08  by  the  Scriptures  concerning  this  subject,  were  to  be  lost ;  we 
should  be  surprised  to  see  how  small  was  the  number  of  cases,  in 
which  this  knowledge  was  attainable,  even  in  a  moderate  degree ; 
and  how  much  uncertainty  attended  even  these.  As,  therefore,  we 
are  unable  to  discern  with  truth,  or  probability,  the  real  usefulness 
of  our  conduct ;  it  is  impossible,  that  our  moral  actions  should  be 
safely  guided  by  this  rule. 

Tne  Bible  is,  with  the  plainest  evidence,  the  only  safe  rule,  by 
which  moral  beings  can,  m  this  world,  direct  their  conduct.  The 
precepts  of  this  Sacred  Volume  were  all  formed  by  Him,  who 
alone  sees  fie  end  from  the  beginning,  and  who  alone,  therefore,  un- 
derstands the  real  nature  of  all  moral  actions.  No  other  being  is 
able  to  determine  how  far  any  action  is,  upon  the  whole,  usefuL 
m  noxious ;  or  to  make  Utility  the  measure  of  Virtue.    As  well 


% 


* 


^60  inriLIIT  THE  FOUNDATION  [SDL  XCOL 

might  a  man  determine,  that  a  path,  whose  direction  he  can  dit- 
cern  only  for  a  furlong,  will  conduct  him  in  a  straight  course  to  a 
city,  distant  from  him  a  thousand  miles,  as  to  determine,  that  an 
action,  whose  immediate  tendency  he  perceives  to  be  useful,  will 
therefore  be  useful,  through  a  thousand  years,  or  even  through  ten* 
How  much  less  able  must  he  be  to  perceive  what  will  be  its  real 
tendency  in  the  remote  ases  of  endless  duration*  It  is  impossible 
therefore,  that  utility,  as  decided  by  our  judgment,  should  oecome 
the  rule  of  moral  action* 

It  has  also  been  objected  to  this  doctrine,  that  if  Virtue  is  found* 

ed  in  Uiility,  eotry  things  which  is  useful^  tniust  so  far  be  virtuousm 

«     This  objection  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  answer.    Voluntary  use- 

^    fulness  is  the  only  virtue*    A  smatterer  in  moral  philosophy  knows, 

that  understanding  and  will,  are  necessary  to  the  existence  of  vb^ 

tue*    He  who  informs  us,  that,  if  virtue  is  founded  in  utility^  ani  • 

.    mals,  vegetables,  and  minerals,  the  sun,  and  the  moon,  and  the 

*     Mars,  must  be  virtuous,  so  far  as  they  are  useful,  is  either  dispot* 

ed  to  trifle  with  mankind  for  his  amusement,  or  supposes  them  to 

be  triflers* 

REMARKS* 

1st*  From  these  observations  we  learn,  in  an  interesting  numn^^ 
the  desirableness  of  virtue. 

The  whole  tendency  of  virtue  is  to  promote  happiness ;  and 
this  is  its  only  ultimate  tendency*  It  prefers,  of  course,  the  greater 
happiness  to  the  less,  and  the  greatest,  always,  to  that  which  can 
exist  in  a  subordinate  deeree*  It  difiuses  happiness  everywhere, 
and  to  every  being  capaole  of  receiving  it,  so  far  as  this  difiusion 
is  in  its  power*  In  this  respect  it  knows  no  distinction  of  family, 
country,  or  world ;  and  operates  to  the  benefit  of  those,  who  are 
near,  more  than  to  that  of  those,  who  are  distant,  only  because  its 
operations  will  be  more  efiectual,  and  because,  when  all  pursue 
this  course,  the  greatest  good  will  be  done  to  all*  Its  efficacy 
also  is  complete*  The  object  at  which  it  aims,  it  can  accomplisL 
It  can  contrive,  it  can  direct,  it  can  efiectuate*  To  do  good  is  its 
happiness^  as  well  as  its  tendency.  It  will,  therefore,  never  be  in* 
attentive,  never  discouraged,  never  disposed  to  relax  its  eflbrta* 
Thus  it  is  a  perennial  spring,  whose  waters  never  &il ;  a  spring, 
at  which  thousands  and  millions  may  slake  their  thirst  for  enjoy* 
ment,  and  of  which  the  streams  are  always  pure,  healthAil,  and 
refreshing* 

2dly*  ne  learn  from  the  same  observations  the  odious  nahare  of 
^n. 

Sin,  or  Selfishness,  aiming  supremely  at  the  private,  separate 
good  of  an  individual,  and  subordinating  to  it  the  good  of  all 
others,  confines  its  efibrts,  of  course,  to  the  narrow  sphere  of  onft's 
selfv  All  the  individuals  also,  in  whom  this  spirit  prevails,  havt^ 
each,  a  personal  good,  to  which  each  suboromates  every  othor 


SESL  XCIZ.]  OF  tmiTUS.  ]f  | 

rood.  There  are,  therefore,  as  manjr  separate  interests  in  a  col- 
tection  of  selfish  beings,  as  there  are  individuals ;  and  to  each  of 
these  interests  the  individual,  whose  it  is,  intends  to  make  those  of 
all  others  subservient*  Of  consequence,  these  interests  cannot 
Caul  to  clash ;  and  the  individuals  to  oppose,  and  contend  with,  each 
other*  Hence  an  unceasing  course  ot  hatred,  wrath,  revenge,  and 
riolence,  must  prevail  among  beings  of  this  character;  of  private 
quarrels,  and  public  wars.  All,  wno  oppose  this  darling  interest, 
are  regarded  by  the  individual  as  his  enemies :  and  thus  all  natur* 
ally  become  the  enemies  of  all.  Where  this  disposition  is  in  a 
great  measure  unrestrained,  it  makes  an  individual  a  tyrant,  and  a 
society,  a  collection  of  banditti.  Where  it  is  wholly  unrestrained, 
it  converts  Intelligent  beings  into  fiends,  and  their  habitation  into 
hell. 

The  ruling  principle,  here,  is  to  gain  good  from  others^  and  noi 
to  conuntmicate  it  to  them.  This  darling  spirit,  so  cherished  by 
mankind,  so  active  in  the  present  world,  so  indulged,  flattered,  ada 
boasted  of,  by  those  who  possess  it,  is,  instead  of  being  wise  and 
profitable,  plainly  foolish,  shameful,  ruinous,  and  deserving  of  the 
most  intense  reprobation.     Notwitstandine  all  the  restraints,  laid 

rn  it  by  the  good  providence  of  God;  notwithstanding  the 
rtness  of  life,  which  prevents  us  from  forming  permanent  plans, 
making  great  acquisitions  to  ourselves,  and  proaucing  great  mis- 
chiefs to  others  ;  notwithstanding  the  weakness,  firailty,  and  fear, 
which  continually  attend  us ;  notwitstandine  the  efficac;^  of  natural 
affei:tion,  the  powei  of  conscience  and  the  benevolent  influence  of 
Religion  on  the  afiairs  of  mankind ;  it  makes  the  present  world  an 
uncomfortable  and  melancholy  residence ;  and  creates  three 
fourths  of  the  misery,  suffered  by  the  race  of  Adam. 

All  these  evils  exist,  because  men  are  disinclined  to  do  good, 
or  to  be  voluntarily  useful.  Were  they  only  disposed  to  promote 
each  other's  happiness,  or,  in  other  words,  to  be  useful  to  each 
t>ther ;  the  worm  would  become  a  pleasant  and  desirable  habita- 
tion. The  calamities,  immediately  brought  upon  us  by  Provi- 
dence, would  be  found  to  be  few ;  those,  induced  by  men  upon 
themselves  and  each  other,  would  vanish ;  and  in  their  place  be* 
neficence  would  spread  its  innumerable  blessings. 

ddly.  These  observations  strongly  exhibit  to  us  the  miserable  staU 
of  the  world  of  Perdition* 

.  In  this  melancholy  region  no  good  is  done,  nor  intended  to  be 
done.  No  good  is  therefore  enjoyed,  ^till,  the  mind  retains  its 
original  activity ;  and  is  wise  and  vigorous  to  do  evilj  although  it  has  , 
neither  knowledge^  nor  inclination,  to  do  good.  Hiere,  all  the  pas- 
nons  of  a  selfish  spirit  are  let  loose ;  and  riot,  and  reign,  and  rav- 
8^.  Here,  therefore,  all  are  enemies.  Here,  the  wretched  indi- 
vidual, surveying  the  vast  redons  around  him,  and  casting  his  eyes 
fa-ward  into  the  immeasurable  progrefs  of  eternity,  sees  hio^lf 
aheolutely  alone  in  (he  midst  of  millions,  in  solitude  complete  and 

Vol.  III.  SI 


•. 


*  ^ 


*. 


«     ■ 


108  UTILITT  THE  FOUNDATION,  Im.     _       {SER.  XCQL 

endless*  HerC)  voluntary  usefulness  is  for  ever  unknown,  and  un- 
heaj^  of;  while  selfishness  in  all  its  dreadfiiHbnns  assumes  an  un- 
disputed, an  unresisted,  dominion,  a  terrible  despotism ;  and  filb 
the  world  around  her  with  rage  and  wretchedness,  with  tenor  and 
doubt,  with  desolation  anc^  despair. 

4thly*  Hum  idxghXfxd  a  view  do  these  observations  give  of  Heaven/ 
.Heaven  is  the  world  of  voluntary  usefulness.  The  only  disposi- 
lion  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect^  is  to  do  good ; 
their  on^  employment,  to  produce  hafipipess.  In  this  employ* 
ment  all  the  energy  of  sanctified  and  pcnect  minds  is  exerted  with* 
out  weariness,  and  without  end. .  How  vast,  then,  how  incompre- 
hensible, how  endlessly  increasing,  must  be  the  mass  of  happiness, 
jhrought  by  their  united  efforts  into  being !  How  ample  a  provision 
must  it  be  for  all  the  continually  expanding  wishes,  the  continual- 
,  ly  enlarging  capacities,  of  its  glorious  inhaoltants !  How  wonder- 
mlly,  also,  must  the  sum  of  enjoyment  be  enhanced  to  each,  when 
we  remember,  that  he  will  ezpenence  the  same  delieht  in  the  eood 
enjoyed  by  odiers,  as  in  that  which  is  immediately  ms  own!  Who 
would  not  labour  to  gain  an  entrance  into  such  a  world  as  thisf 
lyho  would  not  bend  all  his  efibrts,  exhaust  all  his  powers,  en« 
counter  any  earthly  sufiering,  and  resolutely  overcome  every  earth* 
ly  obstacle,  to  acquire  that  divine  and  delightful  character  of  vot 
untary  usefulness,  which  makes  heaven  such  a  world;  which 
limkes  it  the  place  of  God's  peculiar  presence,  the  means  of  his 
hishest  ^lory,  and  the  mansion  of  everlasting  life,  peace,  and  joy^ 
to  nis  children  f 


7*k   « 


4 


1 


0f 


SERMON  C. 


THE   LAW    OV    OOD. THE   DECALOGUE. TBI    TIMT    COMMAND- 
MENT. 


EioDOf  zi.  8  — Thou  akaii  have  no  oiher  Godt  htfltrt  aie. 

IN  the  series  of  discourses,  which  I  have  .lately  delivered  con- 
cerning the  two  great  commands  of  the  Moral  Law,  it  has,  if  I 
fliistake  not,  been  sufficiently  shown,  that  the  disposition,  required 
Ij  the  Creator  of  his  Intelligent  creatures  in  this  law,  is  Disinter" 
uitd  LovCj  or  the  Spirit  of  doing  gooJU     The  tendtnai  of  this  dis> 

CMition  is  always  to  do  what  is  right.  It  will  not,  however,  fol- 
w,  that  the  mind,  in  which  it  exists,  will  be  able  always  to  discern 
die  course  of  conduct,  which  it  ought,  upon  the  whole,  to  pursue. 
The  disposition  may,  with  absolute  correctness,  dictate  what  is 
absolutely  proper  to  be  done  in  a  case,  already  before  the  view  Qf 
die  mind ;  and  yet  the  mind  be  wholly  ignorant,  whether  that 
case,  or  the  conduct  in  question,  is  such,  as  would,  upon  the  whole, 
be  best  for  it  to  pursue ;  or  whether  superior  wisdom  would  not 
be  able  to  devise  for  it  other,  and  much  more  desirable,  courses 
of  action.  A  child  may  be  perfectly  holy ;  and  yet  possess  too 
fittle  understanding  to  know  in  what  way  ne  may  biest  acf ;  in  what 
way  he  may  most  promote  the  glory  of  Goc(,  the  good  of  his 
fellow-creatures,  or  the  good  of  nimself.  His  disposition  may 
prompt  to  that^  which  is  exactly  right,  m  all  the  conduct,  which  is 
within  the  reach  of  his  understanding.  Yet,  if  he  had  more  com- 
prehensive views,  be  mieht  discern  far  more  desirable  modes  of 
action,  in  which  he  might  be  much  more  useful,  than  in  any  which 
he  is  at  present  able  to  devise.  He  may  he  able  to  apply  the  two 
great  commands  of  the  Moral  Law,  which  have  been  so  extensive^ 
^considered,  with  exact  propriety  to  ail  such  cases,  as  are  acta* 
ally  within  his  view ;  ana  yet  be  utterly  unable  to  devise  for 
hmself  those  kinds  of  conduct,  in  which  his  obedience  to  llieae 
commands  might  be  most  profitably  employed. 

What  is  true  of  a  child,  is  true,  in  different  degrees,  of  all  Intel* 
figent  creatures.  God  only,  as  was  shown  in  a  former  discoursei 
it  able  to  discern,  and  to  prescribe,  the  conduct,  which|  upon  the 
whole,  it  is  proper  for  such  creatures  to  pursue.  He  nttfrom  tfu 
Uginning  to  the  end;  and  perfectly  unaerstands  the  nature,  and 
the  consequences,  of  all  Intelligent  action.  This  knowledge^ 
which  he  alone  possesses,  and  which  is  indispensable  to  this  pur- 
poee,  enables  him  to  accomplish  it  in  a  manner  absolutely  pertccC 


».  ** 


te4  FIRST  COMMANDMIENT.  [BER.C 

WTiat  is  true,  in  this  respect,  of  Intelligent  creatures  universally, 
IS  peculiarly  true  of  Sin/id  creatures.  The  disposiUon  of  sinnen 
leads  them,  of  course,  to  that  conduct,  which  is  wrong  and  mis- 
•  chievous.  They  are,  therefore,  always  in  danger  of  erring  from 
mere  disposition*  Besides,  sin  renders  the  mind  voluntarify  igruh 
rant;  and  in  this  manner,  also,  exposes  it  continually  to  error.  A 
great  part  of  all  the  false  opinions,  entertained  by  mankind  con- 
cerning their  duty,  are  to  be  attributed  solelj^tQ  the  biasses  of  a 
sinful  aisposition;  None  are  so  blind,  none  m>  erroneous,  as  those 
who  are  unwilling  to  see* 

From  a  mercifu^  regard  to  these  circumstances,  particularly,  of 
mankind,  God  has  been  pleased  to  reveal  to  them  his  pleasure, 
and  their  duty  ^  to  disclose  to  them  all  those  modes  of  moral  ac^ 
tion,  alt  those  kinds  of  moral  conduct,  in  which  they  may  most 

Eromote  his  glory,  and  their  own  good.  The  importance  of  this 
Revelation  is  evidenced,  in  the  strongest  manner,  by  the  moral  situ- 
ation  of  that  part  of  the  human  race,  to  whom  it  has  never  been 
published.  I  need  not  inform  you,  that  thoy  have  be^n  wholly  ig* 
norant  of  the  true  God,  and  of  a  great  part  of  the  principles  and 
precepts,  of  the  moral  system ;  that  they  have  worshipped  men, 
animals,  evil  spirits,  and  gods  of  gold  and  silver,  of  wood  dad  stone* 
I  need  not  inform  you,  that  they  have  violated  every  mohl  pre- 
cept, and  every  dictate  of  natural  affection.  I  need  not  inform 
you,  that  without  Revelation  we  should  have  been  heathen  also; 
and  should,  in  all  probability,  have  been  this  day  prostrating  our- 
selves before  an  ox  or  an  ape,  or  passing  children  through  tne  fire 
unto  Moloch. 

Among  the  several  parts  of  the  Revelation,  which  has  raised 
our  moral  condition  so  greatly  above  that  of  the  heathen,  the  Dec* 
alogue^  is  eminently  distinguished.     The  decalogue  is  a  larger 
summary  of  our  duty,  than  tnat  which  is  contained  in  the  two  great 
commands,  already  considered.     The  same^hings,  in  substance, 
are  required  in  it ;  but  they  are  branched  out  into  various  impor- 
tant particulars ;  all  of  them  supremely  necessary  to  be  known  by 
us.     To  enforce  their  importance  on  our  minds,  God  was  pleased 
to  utter  the  several  precepts,  contained  in  this  summary,  with  his 
own  voice ;  and  to  write  them  with  his  own  finger  on  two  tables 
of  stone,  fashioned  by  himselT.     They  were  published,  also,  anaid 
thf^  thunderings  and  lightnings  of  Mounl  Sinai,  from  the  bosom  of 
the  cloud,  by  which  it  was  enveloped,  and  out  of  the  flame,  which 
ascended  from  its  supimit. 

The  four  first  of  the  commands,  contained  in  the  decalogue,  reg- 
ulate our  immediate  duty  to  God ;  the  six  last,  our  duty  to  men* 
The  former  were  written  on  one^  properly  called  the  Jirst^  table  5 
the  latter  on  another^  usually  styled  the  second^  table. 

Two  of  these  commands,  one  of  the  first  and  one  of  the  second 
table,  are  positive^  that  is,  direct  injunctions  of  our  duty :  the  re* 
muining  eight  are  negative^  or  prohibitory.    Both  classes^  however. 


•*-■  •  ^- 


% 


\ 


c]  nsnr  oomiAmnflBrr.  Ml 

tre  of  exactly  the  same  extent:  tkose,  which  are  posithre,  forbid* 
dbg  the  conduct,  which  is  contrair  to  what  they  enjoin ;  and 
those,  which  are  negative,  requiring  that,  which  is  contrary  to  what 
they  forbid. 

f%e  first  of  these  commands  is  tks  text.  The  duty,  enjoined  in  "* 
it,  is  01  such  a  nature,  that,  to  a  mind  governed  by  the  dictates  i^ 
reason,  an  express  injunction  of  it  would  seem  in  a  great  measurt 
unnecessary,  if  nottiuogether  superfluous.  So  vast  is  the  diffiuw 
ence  between  dwi^  veal  Grod,  and  every  possible  substitute,  that 
sober  contemplation  would  scarcely  suspect  it  to  be  possible  ior 
a  man,  who  is  not  bereft  of  Reason,  to  put  any  other  beiBE  info 
his  place,  even  under  the  influence  of  the  most  wandering  mnctr« 
How  unfike  all  other  beings  must  He  evidently  be,  who  made  the 
heavens  and  the  earth;  whose  breath  kindled  the  sun  and  tht 
stars ;  and  whose  hand  rolls  the  planets  through  immeDsity  I  How 
infinitely  superior  does  he  obviously  appear  to  every  thing,  which 
he  has  maae ;  and  h6w  infinitely  remote  firom  any  rival,  or  any 
second !  Still,  experience  has  amply  testified,  that  mankind  havsi 
almost  without  ceasing,  substituted  other  Gods  for  Jehovah* 
Nay,  it  has  clearly  evinced,  not  only  that  we  need  to  be  taught  tht  ^ 
duty,  rs||||aired  by  him  in  the  text,  but  that  no  precepts,  no  instruc* 
tions,  ami  no  motives,  have  been  sufficient  to  keep  the  world  in 
obedience  to  this  first  and  j^atest  law  of  moral  conauct.  Nothin^^ 
indeed,  has  so  strongly  evinced  the  madness  of  the  human  hearL 
as  the  conduct,  which  it  has  exhibited  towards  the  Creator  ;  and 
the  idolatry,  which  it  has  rendered  to  a  vast  multitude  of  the  works 
of  his  hands. 

The  word,  goisj  in  tins  passa|;e,  may  be  rcgardsd  as  denoting 
not  only  the  vmrious  objects  of  reUgious  ssank^^ni  also  oU  the  sA^ 
jsets  of  svfTtmt  regard^  affection^  or  e^eem.  The  commandf  it 
will  be  observed,  is  expressed  in  the  absolute,  or  HBtversal^manaef^ 
and  may  be  foirly  considered  as  including  every  things  to  whiiA 
mankindf  render,  or  can  be  supposed  to  render,  swcfa  regard*  Tht 
phrase,  before  me,  is  eouivalent  to  the  expressions,  tn  isy  ^^^  tfl 
my  presence;  and  teacn  us  that  no  such  ^odsare  to  be  awitUcd 
witnin  the  omnipresence,  or  within  the  view  of  the  omniscionc^ 
of  Jehovah.  With  these  explanations,  k  witt  be  easily  seen, 
diat  the  text  indispensablv  requires  us  to  achumUdge  the  rttd 
Qodas  ourOod;  and  forbids  us  to  regard  msjf  sSlsr^mvtfi  this 
dkaracter.  -,   >  . 

To  acknowledge  Jehovah  as  our  God  is  to  lore  ham  supreaMljr^ 
to  fear  before  him  ivith  all  the  heart,  and  to  serve  him-  throughout 
all  our  days ;  in  absolute  preference  lo  every  other  being*  &  lki$ 
manner  we  testify,  tiiat  we  esteem  him  innnitely  move  OMclieiil^ 
venerable,  and  deserving  of  our  obedience,  than  all  other  bflinjjpSk 
After  the  observations,  which  I  have  heretofore  made  concerniag 
these  subjects,  it  will  be  unnecessary  to  expatiate  cm  them  at  die 
present  tune.    I  shall  o&ily  observe,  therefore^  that  this  is  ilia 


t 


lf$  F1B8T  OOlfMAIfDMEMT.  [BEE,  C 

lughest^  the  noblest^  and  the  best,  service,  which  we  can  render  lo 
any  being,  and  the  only  way  in  which  we  can  acknowledge  any 
being  as  God.  When  we  render  this  service  to  Jehovah,  we  ac* 
knowledge  him  in  his  true  character.  He  is  infinitely  the  g^'eatest, 
and  the  best,  of  all  beings;  and  we  are  under  infinitely  greater 
obligations  to  him,  than  to  any  other.  Of  course,  his  claims  to 
this  service  finom  us,  and  from  ill  other  Intelligent  creatures,  are 
Mpreme,  and  exclusive^  When  it  is  renderw  by  them,  God  is 
acknowledged  to  be  whiat  he  is ;  thus  divinely  great  and  excellent. 
At  the  same  tune,  and  in  the  same  manner,  we  declare,  that  by  his 
character,  and  by  his  blessings,  he  has  laid  us  under  the  highest 
obligations  to  such  conduct. 

As  this  is  the  only  true,  natural,  and  proper,  acknowledgment  of 
God;  so,  when  we  render  the  same  service  to  any  creature,  we 
acknowledge  thai  creature  as  our  God.  In  this  conduct  we  are 
guilty  of  two  gross  and  abominable  sins.  In  the  first  place,  we 
elevate  the  being,  who  is  thus  regarded,  to  the  character,  and  station, 
of  a  God:  and,  in  the  second  place,  we  remove  the  true  God,  in 
our  heart,  fipom  his  own  character  of  infinite  glory,  and  excellence, 
and  fit)m  that  exalted  station,  which  he  holds  as  the  infinite  Ruler, 
and  Benefactor,  of  the  H&iverse.  This  sin  is  a  complication  ct 
wickedness,  wonderfiilly  various  and  dreadful.  In  truth,  it  is  a 
comprehensive  summary  of  iniquity,  and  the  basis  of  all  the  crimes 
which  are  conunitted  by  Intelligent  creatures.  The  evil,  involved 
in  it,  may,  in  some  measure,  be  learned  from  the  following  obs^ 
Tations.  V 

1  St.  Wie  are  in  this  conduct  guilttf  of  the  grossest  Falsehood. 
We  practically  deny,  that  Jehovah  is  possessed  of  those  attii* 
butes,  which  alone  demand  such  service  from  Intelligent  creatures; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  assert  in  the  same  manner,  mat  the  bein{^ 
to  whom  we  render  this  service,  is  invested  with  these  attributes. 
No  falsehoods  can  be  so  gross,  or  so  abominable,  as  these.  Nor 
can  they  be  uttered  in  any  manner,  so  forcible,  so  provoking,  or  so 
guilty.  Our  practice  is  the  real  interpreter  of  our  thoughts.  The 
tongue  may  utter  any  thing  at  pleasure ;  but  the  heart  is  always 
disclosed  by  the  laneuage  of  the  life. 

3dly.  In  this  conauct^  also^  we  are  guilty  of  the  greatest  iyut* 
Km. 

This  evil  is  likewise  two-fold*  First ;  we  violate  the  riehtfol 
claim  of  Jehovah  to  the  service  of  Intelligent  creatures:  ana  sec* 
ondly;  we  render  to  a  creature  the  service  which  is  due  to  Him 
alone.  The  right,  which  God  has  to  this  cervice,  is  supreme,  and 
unalienable.  He  is  our  Maker,  and  Preserver.  We  are  in  the 
Host  absolute  sense  his  property ;  and  are  bound,  therefore,  by 
the  highest  obligation,  to  lie  voluntarily  his ;  cheerfully  to  resioi 
ourselves  to  his  pleasure,  and  to  be  employed  in  doing  his  wuL 
The  obligations,  arising  from  this  source,  are  not  a  little  enhanced 
hy  the  feet,  that  the  service,  which  he  actually  requires  of  us,  is  ift 


• 

V 


tn.  C]  FIRST  OOBmANDBIEiqEL  IS7.  i 

the  highest  degree  profitable  to  ourselves :  our  highest  ezceUence . 
our  greatest  honour,  and  our  supreme  happiness.  At  the  same  tune, 
these  obli^tions  are  wonderfully  increased  by  the  consideration, 
that  God  IS  infinitely  excellent  and  amiable,  and  therefore  claims 
this  testimony  of  the  heart  as  the  just  and  perfect  acknowledgment 
of  his  perfect  character.  Were  ne  not  our  Creator,  nor  our  Pre* 
server,  we  could  not  still  refiise  to  jeuder  him  this  regard,  without 
thegreatest  injury  to  so  glorious  a  Being. 

l%e  created  object,  to  which  we  actually  yield  this  service,  is 
destitute  of  all  claims  to  it.     In  rendering  it  to  him,  therefore,  we 
add  insult  to  injustice ;  and,  not  contented  with  denying,  and  violat- 
ing the  rights  of  the  Creator,  we  prefer  to  him,  in  this  manner,  a 
being  who  u  less  than  nothing^  and  vanity^ 
3aly.  We  are  also  guilty  of  the  vilest  Ingratitude. 
From  the  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness,  of  God,  we  derive  our 
being,  our  blessings,  and  our  hopes.  '  He  created  us,  he  preserves 
is;  amd  he  daily  icMkb  us  with  his  loving4cindness»    He  eave  his 
Son  to  die  for  us ;  and  sent  his  Spirit  to  sanctify  us.     It  is  unpossi- 
Ue,  that  we  should  be  in  any  circumstances,  which  demand  equal 
gratitude  towards  anv,  or  towards  all,  created  beings.    The  ser- 
vice, which  he  actuallv  requires  as  the  jequital  of  all  this  benefit 
eence,  is  no  other  than  in  our  thoughts,  mictions,  and  conduct,  to 
acknowledge  hun  to  be  what  he  is;  to  reverence  him,  as  being  infi* 
■iteiy  great;  to  love  him,  as  infinitely  excellent ;  and  to  serve  him 
as  the  infinitely  righteous  and  reasonable  Ruler  of  all  thines. 
What  in^titude  can  be  conipared  with  that  of  a  creature,  mio 
leiiises  thii  service  ?  Yet  even  this  ingratitude  is  mightily  enhanced 
by  the  wanton  wickedness  of  transferring  the  regard,  which  is  due 
lo  him  only,  to  one  of  his  creatures :  a  creature  like  ourselves  ; 
perhaps  inferior  to  ourselves :  a  being,  in  this  view,  of  no  worth ; 
to  whom  we  are  under  no  obligations ;  and  who  has  not  the  small- 
Sit  claim  to  any  such  homage.    What  crime  can  be  more  provok- 
mm,  or  more  guilty,  than  the  preference  of  such  a  creature  to  such 

It  was  observed  above,  that  the  sin,  forbidden  in  the  text,  is 
wickedness,  wonderfully  complicated.  Nothing  would  be  more 
ipsy,  than  to  show,  that  pride,  rebellion,  hatred  of  excellence, 
Uuphemy,  and  many  other  sins,  are  included  in  this  conduct.  It 
wwd,  however,  be  unnecessary  for  the  present  desi^,  and  the 
iHBe,  which  such  an  examination  would  demand,  will,  if  1  mistake 
BOt,  be  more  profitably  employed  in  attending  to  the  following 

REMARKS. 
lst«  Prom  these  observations  we  leam,  that  Idolatry  is  asin  ofAis 

That  a  sin,  which  combines  in  itself  Falsehood,  Injustice,  and 
Eigratitude,  pride,  rebellion,  and  blasphemy,  all  existing  in  the 
pissest  and  most  impudent  degree,  is  of  the  first  magnitime,  can* 


not  be  i|desti<med^  wid»  reason,  or  decencj.  BcpallT  evident  is  k, 
that  9l  stif,  which  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  other  wickeanessy  must  be 
peculiarly  enormous.  That  such  is  the  nature  of  Idolatry  b  oih 
onswerablj  proved  by  the  &ct,  that,  wherever  God  is  acknowledge 
ed  in  the  manner  above  described,  the  moral  character  is  of  coursci 
spotless  and  unblameable.  The  commencement  of  turpitude  in 
an  Intelligent  creature  is  his  alienation  finom  God,  and  his  prefer- 
ence of  some  other  object  to  Jehovah.  In  proportion  to  the  prev- 
alence of  this  spirit,  wickedness  of  every  Kind  prevails ;  and  m 
proportion  to  the  degree,  in  which  the  soul  overcomes,  and  re- 
nounces, this  preference,  it  becomes  possessed  of  moral  excellence 
in  all  its  forms.  This  truth  is  strongly  seen  in  the  character,  and 
conduct,  of  all  those  virtuous  men,  whose  history  is  recorded  in 
die  Scriptures.  In  a  manner  scarcelv  less  forcible,  or  cerlam,  it 
IS  also  seen  in  the  experience  of  mankind.  All  virtue  flourishes, 
i^erever  God  is  acnqMrledged  according  to  the  import  of  the 
text :  and  wherever  wis  not  thus  acknowledged,  all  virtue  de- 
cays, and  dies.  The  great,  open,  public  acknowledgment  of 
God  is  exhibited  in  the  solemnities  of  the  Sabbath,  and  me  Sanc- 
tuary. Wherever  these  exist  uniformly,  and  prosperously,  good 
ness  of  character,  and  of  life,  will  be  regularly  found  to  pcevaiL 
Wherever  they  decline,  or  vanish,  virtue  invariably  vanisncs  widh 
them. 

Nor  is  this  truth  less  evident  bom  the  personal  experience  of 
every  Christian.  Whenever  he  magnifies  in  his  heart  his  Father, 
Redeemer,  and  Sanctifi^ ;  all  his  affections  are  purified,  evangeli- 
cal, and  heavenly.  His  eonvertaHon  is  swh  as  btcameik  Modlmt»$f 
and  his  life  adorm  the  dacirine  of  Ood  his  Saviour  f  is  a  happy  re* 
semblance  of  the  celestial  character,  and  a  delightfiil  preparation 
for  celestial  enjovment.  But  when  he  ceases,  for  a  time,  to  yield 
this  glorv  to  his  Maker ;  when  the  importance  of  the  divine  char- 
acter is  lessened,  or  obscured,  in  his  eyes ;  when  God  becomes  to 
the  view  of  his  mind  less  venerable,  less  excellent,  and  less  love- 
ly ;  his  apprehensions  of  spiritual  obiects  are  clouded  and  dim ) 
Ins  virtuous  affections  are  cold,  inactive,  and  lifeless.  His  piv- 
poses  are  bounded  by  the  present  worid,  and  centered  in  hinvelf  | 
and  his  life  is  devested  of  its  former  beauty,  worth  and  enjoyment* 
Ood  is  the  Sun  of  the  Soul.  Wherever  be  shines ;  there  is  more 
moral  day,  warmth,  life,  and  energy.  There,  every  thing  exo^ 
lent  springs  up  beneath  his  quickening  beams ;  grows  unceasing 
with  vigour  and  beauty ;  and  ripens  into  userobess  and  enjoy* 
ment.  In  the  absence  of  this  divine  luminanr,  the  soul  is  darkened 
by^nijght^  and  chilled  by  a  moraF winter.  Its  views  become  diniy 
its  affections  frozen  and  torpid,  and  its  progress  through  life  a 
scene  of  desolation. 

Stily.  TTU  sawie  observalHmu  itmeh  uii  thai  aU  mankind  m^s  gml^ 
^  Idolatry. 
Coveioutnus  is  styled  idoUUry  by  Si.  Paul;  and  shMormmm 


SBLC]  FIRST  COIIMANDMENT.  |9f. 

• 

Dj  the  Propliet  SamueL  To  many  other  sms  this  title  is  obviously, 
«nd  to  all  sin  really,  applicable.  Sin,  universally,  is  no  other  than 
selfishness ;  or  a  preference  of  one's  self  to  all  other  beings,  and 
one's  private  interests  and  gratifications  to  the  well-bein^  of  the 
nniverse ;  of  God  and  the  Intelligent  creation*  Of  this  selfishness 
all  men  are  more  oc  less  the  subjects.  In  the  exercise  of  it,  they 
Jove  and  serve  themselves,  rather  than  the  Creator,  who  is  blessed 
for  ever,  Amen.  No  beings,  except  those  who  inhabit  the  world 
of  perdition,  are  probably  more  undeserving  of  this  high  regard. 
We  are  not  only  little  and  insignificant,  bom  of  the  dust  and  kin- 
dred  to  animals ;  but  we  are,  and  are  in  this  very  conduct,  odious 
and  abominable^  drinking  iniquity  like  water.  To  ourselves  we 
render  that  supreme  regard,  which  is  due  to  God  onlyl  Thus  we^* 
fiterally  idolize  ourselves :  and,  as  every  man  living  is  guilty  of 
this  conduct,  every  man  living  is  essentially  an  Idolater. 

This  spirit  manifests  itself,  however,  ia  an  almost  endless  variety 
of  forms.  The  parent  often  idolizes  HA  child;  the  beauty,  her 
£ice,  her  form ;  tne  man  of  genius,  his  talents ;  the  ambitious  man, 
his  fiaone,  power,  or  station  ;  the  miser,  his  gold ;  the  accomplished 
man,  his  manners ;  the  ostentatious  man,  his  villa ;  and  the  sensu* 
alist,  his  pleasures.  By  all  these,  however,  a  single  spirit  is  che- 
mhed,  and  discovered.  The  parent  doats  upon  his  child,  because 
k  is  his  child.  Had  it  been  oorn  of  oiher  parents ;  it  might,  in- 
deed, be  occasionally  agreeable  to  him,  but  would  never  have  be 
come  an  object  of  this  peculiar  fondness. 

This  is  unanswerably  evinced  by  experience :  particularly  by 
die  &ct,  that  much  more  promising  and  engaging  children  are 
nerer  thus  doated  upon,  when  they  are  the  chiloren  of  his  fellow- 
men.  What  is  true  of  this  instance  is  generally  true  of  the  others. 
Our  homage  is  rendered  to  our  own  talents,  possessions  and  enjoy- 
ments ;  not  to  those  of  our  fellow-men.  One  spirit,  therefore,  per- 
vades,  and  reigns  throughout,  all  this  varied  Idolatry. 

3dlj.  n^h  these  observations  in  view,  we  shall  cease  lo  wonder^ 
ikdst  mankind  have  been  so  extensively  guilt]/  of  continual  and  enor* 
wums  sint  against  each  other. 

Sin  is  one  undivided  disposition.  If  it  exists  in  any  Intelligent 
being,  it  exists,  and  operates,  towards  any,  and  every,  other  being, 
with  whom  he  is  concerned.  It  cannot  exist  towards  God,  and  not 
towards  man ;  or  towards  man,  and  not  towards  God.  It  is  a 
Wiong  bias  of  the  soul ;  and,  of  course,  operates  only  to  wrong ; 
wiiatever  being  the  operation  may  respects. 

That  those,  who  are  guilty  of  such  falsehood  towards  God, 
sliould  be  guilty  of  gross  falsehood  towards  each  other,  lo  whom 
they  are  under  far  less  obligations  of  every  kind,  is  certainly  to  be 
expected.  That  those,  who  with  such  gross  ir^ustice  violate  all 
lignts,  f  he  highest,  the  most  absolute,  should  without  remorse  vio- 
late rights  of  so  inferior  a  nature,  is  no  less  to  be  expected.  F«qual« 
ly  is  it  a  thing  of  course,  that  beings,  guilty  of  such  rnoraioiis 

Vol.  III.  22 


^  « 


'170  FIRST  COMBfANDMEirr.  (ipEB.  G 

ingratitude,  should  be  ungrateful  to  each  other,  whenever  this  con* 
duct  will  serve  a  purpose.  He  thai  is  unjust ^  m//,  in  thiifvense,  fte 
vnjust  still ;  and  he  that  is  filthy^  will  lie  filthy  still. 

In  this  manner  are  explained  the  monstrous  iniquities,  which 
filled  the  heathen  world.  These  evils  corameq^  in  their  Religion. 
They  forsook  Jehovah,  and  had  other  Gmfawi^t  him ;  Gods  of 
all  kinds,  natures,  and  descriptions.  A  ratioDa!  mind,  sufficiently 
astonished  at  their  defection  frbm  the  true  God,  is  lost  in  amaze- 
■  ment,  while  contemplating  the  objects  which  they  actually  wor- 
shipped. No  being,  real  or  imaginary,  was  excluded  fix>m  a  list 
of  their  Deities,  or  prevented  from  the  homage  of  their  devotions, 
by  any  decree  of  stupidity,  folly,  or  wickedness.  They  worshipped 
blocks :  they  worshippea  brutes  :  they  worshipped  men ;  psually 
the  worst  of  men :  thQT  worshipped  devils. 

Their  Religion,  ill  all  its  solemn  services,  was  exactly  suited  to 
the  character  of  their  Gods.  Beyond  measure  was  it  stupid,  silly, 
impure,  and  depraved.  It  was  replete  with  enormous  and  unnat- 
ural cruelty.  Specimens  of  this  wickedness,  and  those  innumera- 
ble, are  found  in  the  various  kinds  of  torture,  enjoined  as  a  religious 
penance  for  their  sins;  and  in  the  sacrifice  of  human  victims,  adopt- 
ed as  expiations  for  the  guilt  of  their  surviving  countrymen. 
'  Among  these,  youths  of  the  noblest  birth,  the  brightest  talents,  and 
the  most  promising  character,  were,  in  several  nations,  butchered, 
by  hundreds,  to  satisfy  the  vengeance  of  their  Gods.  In  Hindoe* 
tan^  beside  other  human  victims,  twenty  thousand  women  are  de- 
clared, with  unquestionable  evidence,  to  be  even  now  offered  up, 
annually,  as  victims  to  religion,  on  the  funeral  piles  of  their  deccas- 
.  ed  husbands.  Equally  replenished  was  this  religion  with  won- 
derful ^a/s«Aodd.  All  the  oracles,  divinations,  visions,  dreams, 
and  prophecies,  of  heathenism,  were  a  mere  collection  of  lies* 
'•Ae  same  spirit  of  falsehood  pervaded  their  mythology,  their 
mysteries,  their  doctrines,  their  worship,  and  the  n(ieans  of  preserv* 
,  ing  it.  As  their  Religion  had  no  founaation  in  Reason,  or  Revela* 
tion ;  they  were,  in  a  sense,  compelled,  if  it  was  to  be  preserved  at 
all,  to  resort  to  fraud  and  delusion,  for  the  means  both  of  supporting 
the  worship  itself,  and  the  authority  of  those  who  prescribed  it, 
among  the  infatuated  worshippers.  Thus  the  Gods  of  the  heathen 
were  vanity  and  a  lie:  they  that  made  them  were  like  unto  tliem: 
and  so  was  every  one  who  put  his  trust  in  them.  Nor  was  this 
scheme  less  deformed  hy pollution.  In  Egypt,  Syria,  Paphos,  Bath 
ylon,  and  Hindostan,  particularly,  both  matrons  and  virgins  were 
religiously  consecrated  to  impurity. 

By  the  cruelihr,  falsehood,  and  pollution,  acted  here,  the  heathen 
^[iations  were  eflfectually  prepared  to  perpetrate  the  same  wicked- 
ness elsewhere.  Here,  it  was  sanctioned  by  religion :  the  mind, 
therefore,  could  not  consider  it  as  very  criminal  elsewhere..  As 
all  were  thus  taught ;  these  nations  became  generally  corrupted 


SER.  CJ  FraST  COMMANDMENT.  I7I 

beyond  every  thing,  which  ihe  most  sanguine  imagi nation  could 
bave  conceived. 

All  this,  however,  is  naturally  the  result  of  Idolatry.  That,  which 
is  the  object  of  religious  worshijp,  is  of  course  tbe  most  sublime  and 
perfect  object,  which  ia  realized  by  the  devotee.  When  this  obr 
lect.  therefore,  is  lo*,  debased,  impure;  when  it  is  fraught  with 
falsehood,  injustice,  end  cruelty ;  sunk,  as  it  is,  immeasurably  be- 
low the  proper  character  of  a  god,  it  still  keeps  its  station  of  supe- 
riority ;  and  is  still  regarded  with  ihe  reverence,  due  to  the  highest 
known  object  of  contemplation.  Of  consequence,  all  things,  be- 
side, sink  with  it ;  and  hold  a  station  in  the  eye  of  the  mind,  pro- 
portionally depressed.  The  mind  itself,  pariicularly,  being  destj- 
luip  of  any  higher  conccpiioas,  than  those  which  respect  litis 
debased  object,  conforms  all  its  views,  affections,  and  conduct,  to 
the  character  of  its  deity;  and,  while  it  worriiips  him  with  a  mil- 
ture  of  folly  and  wickedness,  it  extends  the  same  folly  and  wicked- 
ness in  its  various  conduct  towards  all  other  beings,  with  which  it 
corresponds.  Thus  a  debased  God,  becomes  the  foundation  of  a 
debased  rehgion ;  and  a  debased  religion,  of  universal  turpitude  of 
character. 

4lhly.  Htnce,  we  s^c,  that  the  Scriptures  rtprescnl  Idolatry  jtullt/  j 
Unit  annex  lo  it  no  kighfr  punishmertl,  than  it  deserves. 

The  debased  and  miserable  chai-acler,  which  I  have  described, 
was  the  real  character  of  the  Canaanites.  They  were  guilty  of  all 
tbbw  ;>ii(i<iieicB  {  ond  were,  therefore,  justly  the  objects  of  the  di- 
vine indignation.  Innnuti^  i^«oi^  fmm  ih^i  iiiiip*:ence,  attributed 
10  them  by  InGdels,  [hey  had  grown  worse  and  worse,  under  the 
ordinary  influence  of  lilolatrj-,  from  the  beginning.  At  length 
their  iniifttitt/  became/u//,-  and  they  were  wiped  away  as  a  biot, 
as  a  stain,  upon  ihe  Creation  of  God. 

The  same  things  are,  with  some  qualifications,  true  of  theA* 
raelitei.  In  the  progress  of  dieir  various  defections  to  idolatry, 
ihev  became  corrupted  in  the  same  dreadful  manner,  were  guilty 
ot  t)ie  same  impiirity,  cruelty,  and  falsehood ;  butchered  each  other 
without  remorse ;  were  disloyal,  rebellious,  treacherous;  followed 
abandoned  villains,  to  overlurn  the  government,  established  by  God 
himself;  waged  furious  civil  wars  with  each  other;  and  made 
their  ions  past  through  Ihejirc  unto  Mvloch.  God,  with  wonderful 
patience  and  mo-*""  'tailed  long;  and  sent  many  prophets  lo  re- 
claim them.  Y  'r  ("'itiing  cured  them  of  their  Idolatry,  but  their 
£ml  overthrow,  and  their  deportation  to  Babylon. 

What  is  true  of  these  nations,  with  regard  to  this  subject,  is  true 
of  the  heathen  in  general.  All  the  nations,  who  have  been  devot- 
ed to  Idolatry,  have  addicted  themselves  In  these,  and  ail  other, 
rriin<'»  ;  and  have  been  dreadfully  oepraveil  m  their  whole  moral 
character.  Wherever  men  of  discernment  and  integrity  have  re- 
sided among  such  nations,  and  given  an  account  of  them  to  the 
public ;  this  melancholy  truth  has,  notwithstanding  all  the  atlega- 


J 


1^        173  FUtST  COMMANDMENT.  [SER  6 

r         tions  of  Infidels  lo  ihe  contrary,  been  evinced  beyond  every  de- 
!  cent  denial,  or  reasonable  doubt. 

dthly.   Thtse  observat'wns  teach  us  the  tuisdom  and  goodnttt  of 
'«  God  til  atparating  the  Jcjvs  from  mankind,  as  a  peculiar  people  to 

I  himtelf. 

All  the  preceding  experiment,  which  had  been  made  in  Ihe 
Providence  of  God,  for  the  purpose  of  preserving,  In  this  corrupt- 
ed world,  the  knowledge  and  worship  of  Jehovah,  had  failed  of 
accomplishing  the  end.  God  bad  revealed  himself  in  an  immedi- 
ate and  extraordinary  manner  lo  our  first  parents,  and  lo  their 
desceiidanli  through  many  generations.  All  these,  also,  he  had 
Ji^  planted  in  a  world,  which,  though  under  the  curse,  retained  stiH  so 
,  much  of  its  original  nature,  and  was  fi-aught  with  so  many  blei- 

sings,  as  to  continue  the  life  of  man  through  a  thousand  years. 
I*  Under  this  dispensation,  allfiesh  corrupted  his  way  upon  the  earth. 

The  woeiii  leai  Jtl ltd  with  violence ;  and  became  so  universally 
wofligalc,  that  i(  repented  the  Lord,  that  he  had  made  man.  The 
aelugi>„then,  emptied  it  of  its  inhabitants,  to  sweep  away  wicked- 
ness, which  could  no  longer  be  endured  from  under  the  whole 
y  heaven.     Even  this  did  not  cure  the  evil.     The  same  spirit,  not- 

withstanding the  remembraii'-f  til'  iliis  terrible  deslruelion,  revived, 
almost  immediately,  among  >  ■■  Ji'^rcndanis  of  Noah  ;  and,  ol  the 
time  y^Ucn  Mru/ii,, It  was  C3\li:d,  ull  nations  were  on  the  point  of*^ 
losing  the  knowledge  of  the  one,  living,  and  true  God.  Had  not 
the  fnas  been  separated  from  the  rest  of  majikindi  and  %,f  wwr- 
cies,  and  miracrea^of  a  eiognlar  nature,  recalled,  from  Ume  to 
time,  to  the  worship  of  Jehovah;  this  glorious  Being  would  lone 
since  have  been  forgotten  in  the  world.  We  ourselves,  and  aQ 
■  thff'inliabkants  of  this  happy  land,  should  now  have  been  bowing 

E  oureelycs  to  stocks;  offering  up  our  children  as  victims  to  Moloch; 

r       "    and  pmitituting  ourselves,  ana  our  families,  in  religious  and  regu- 
j"  lar  pollution  before  the  shrines  of  Idolatry.    The  only  knowledge, 

[■     ',   the  only  worship,  of  Jehovah,  at  this  day  existing  in  the  world, 
L  ja   dei'ivcd,    ultimately,    from    the  Revelation,  which  he  made  of 

himself  (b  the  Jews,  and  the  various  dispensations  by  which  it  was 
preserved. 

ethly.    fVt  learn  hence  also  the  malignnnt  nature  of  Atheism. 
I  Atheism,  like  Idolatry,  is  infinitely  remote  from  being  a  mere 

mnocent  speculation  ;  a  mere  set  of  harmless  opinions.     In  its 
.   very  nature  it  involves  the  grossest  falsehood,  injustice,  and  in- 
\\         gratitude;  and  is,  of  course,  the  parent  of  all  other  sins,  in  all 
;  \  pqjpible  degrees.     The  mind,  in  which  it  exists,  must,  in  order  to 

1  the  reception  of  it,  have  become  the  seat  of  wonderful  depravity, 

and  is  prepared  by  it  for  every  conceivable  pernelration.     Ido 
,  Qot  deny,    that  an    Atheist   may  live  decently  in  the  world.     BubH 

whenever  this  is  the  fact,  he  lives  in  this  manner,  solely  becaur^ 
the  commission  of  the  several  crimes,  to  which  he  finds  a  lemptJ 
tion,  is  accompanied  by  some  apprehended  danger,  some  senoi 


L.  C]  FIRST  COMM&KDUENT. 


178  M 


difficulty,  or  some  painful  inconvenience;  some  evil  sogrcat^asto 
overbalance  the  pleasure,  which  he  expects  from  committing  the 
crime.  But  he  never  lives  in  this  manner  from  principle  ;  hever 
from  ihe  want  of  disposition  to  sin.  Let  it  be  barely  convenient, 
and  safe,  for  him;  and  (here  is  no  iniquity,  which  his  head  will  not 
contrive,  his  heart  cherish,  and  his  hands  carry  into  execution. 
From  an  Atheist,  no  man,  no  people,  no  human  interest,  can  ever 
be  safe ;  unless  when  danger  to  Jiimself  preserves  them  from  the 
effects  of  his  profligacy. 

7thly.  fFe  set  jdHK  tahal  exact  propritli/  the  Scn'plures  have  rep- 
TttraUd  tht  violation  of  our  immediate  duty  to  God  as  the  source  of 
all  other  tin. 

IiriBifty  is  plainly  the  bemnfng,  the  fountain,  of  guilt,  from 
which  Hows  every  stream.  Those  who  arc  thus  false,  unjust,  and 
ungrateful,  to  God,  will  of  course  exhibit  the  same  conduct,  with 
respect  to  their  fcUow-crcaiures.  Virtue  is  a  single,  indivisible 
principle;  operating,  os  nXun,  towards  every  being,  with  whom 
It  is  concerned;  towards  God,  towards   our  neighbour,  and  to-  "■ 

wards  ourselves.  Towards  all,  it  operates  alike  ;  producing,  ia 
every  case,  the  fruits  of  virtue,  viz.  virtuous  atfeclions  and  virtu-, 
ous  conduct.  As  the  obligations  to  be  virtuous  towards  God,  or 
'in  other  words,  to  be  pious,  are  the  highest  possible ;  so  he,  who  ' 

ISs  insensible  to  these  obligations,  sod  violates  them,  will  be  in-  I 

sensible  to  all  other  obligations,  and  violate  them  also.     The  ap-  ^l 

prehension,  that  virtue  can  exist  partially,  that  ia,  that  we  can  be 
alsjrased  to  perform  our  duly  towards  God  and  not  towards  man, 
or  towards  man  and  not  towards  God,  is  chimerical;  the  result  of 
ignorance,  or  Jnconsidcration;  and  unsupported  either  by  facts  or 

Tments. 
iternal  virtue,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  that  is,  moral  good- 
ness, supposed  to  exist  in  external  conduct  only,  and  unsuppoited 
by  virtue  in  the  heart,  is  a  mere  dream ;  a  mere  shadow.  Instead 
of  virtue,  it  is  nothing  but  convenience;  nothing  but  a  pretence; 
nothing  but  a  cheat.  Virtue  is  inherent  in  the  soul;  in  the  dispo- 
sition; as  light  and  warmth  in  the  sunbeams;  and  is  the  energy  of 
an  Intelligent  being,  voluntarily  directed  to  that  which  h  right  and 
good,  if  piety,  therefore,  be  not  found  in  a  man ;  he  has  no  pre- 
tensions to  virtue  of  any  kind. 

Such  is  the  scheme  of  the  Siriptures.  How  plainly  is  it  true! 
In  laying  the  foundation  of  virtue  here,  how  evidently  have  they 
laid  the  only  possible  foundation !  And  how  strongly  do  they  ap- 
prove themselves  to  the  conscience,  as  truth;  and  as  deserving  the 
character  of  a  Itevelalion  from  God !  At  the  same  time,  how  evi- 
deiidy  are  all  other  schemes  of  Morality  visionary  and  vain; 
buildings  erected  on  sand;  and  destined,  &om  the  beginning,  lo  a 
^ccdy  and  final  overthrow! 


J 


SERMON  CI. 

'    GOD. THE    DECALOOUK. THE    SECOKD    COMVAXD 


ExoDijgii.4 — 6.— ThduiAall  fiDf  tiake  unfo  Iher  ang  grartn  Imagt,  nor  amy  Iil»- 
neu  ••/ anu  Ihinr,  lUal  ii  in  hiareit  abBVe,  or  lliat  ii  in  Ihe  tank  beneath,  or  that  ii 
inlheaalerMnderlhitarth.  Thomliall  not  baa  ihyitij  dovn  la  Ihem,  nornrM 
(Anil ;  for  I,  the  Lardths  Ood.  am  ajtalaui  Gad,  ruiliug  the  ii'iquUy  of  tlit  falhert 
man  lheehUdrin,unlB  the  third  ant  fourUigineTOliaa  of  then  that  hate  me;  awd 
ikeiBiHg  mtng  unto  thouiandiaf  Ihtm  Ihal  luce  me,  andktep  my  amnandmtrJt. 

Tub  Command  in  Ihe  texl,  differs  from  that  which  was  consid- 
ered ill  the  preceding  discourse,  in  ihis  maanrr :  That  t'orbade  tkt 
ackno-.dedgmtnl  of  falsi  Gads,  universalty  :  ihis  prohibits  iht  nDr> 
tinp of  Idols  ;  or  Idolalty, propcriif  so  calltd.  All  worship  rendered 
to  fal.-c  Gods,  is  not  uncojnraonly  styled  Idolatry  :  but  the  name,  io 
tbe  Strictsense.is  applicable  (o  the  worship  of  Idols  only;  or  of  those 
image.--,  pictures,  and  odier  symbols,  which  were  considered  by  the 
heathen  as  re  pre  senta  lions  of  iheirGods. 

In  the  preceding  discourse,  I  observeil,  that  ihe  duly  enjoined  in 
the  first  Command,  is  of  such  a  nature,  that,  to  a  mind  governed 
by  ibc  dictates  of  reason,  an  express  injunction  of  it  would  seem 
inagrfbit  raeasiire  unnecessary,  if  not  altogether  superfluous.  Of 
the  Command  in  the  lest,  it  may  with  etjoal  propriety  be  observed, 
that,  10  sudi  a  mind,  no  precept,  given  in  die  Scriptures,  could 
seem  more  unnecessary,  or  more  superfluous.  Nothing  to  ihe  eye 
of  reason  can  appear  more  wonderful,  or  more  improbable,  liian 
that  b'ings,  endowed  with  intelligence,  should  bow  themselves  be- 
fore liic  stock  of  a  tree,  or  acknowledge  an  image,  inolien  or  carv- 
ed by  themselves,  as  an  object  of  iheir  worship.  Experiniice  has, 
however,  in  the  most  ample  manner  refuted  these  very  natural^ 
and  vi-ry  obvious,  dictates  of  reason;  and  has  shown,  to  the  ever- 
lasting disgrace  of  the  human  name,  ihat  not  only  some,  but  almost 
all  men  have,  throughout  most  ages  of  the  world,  prostrated  them- 
selves before  these  miserable  objccU;  and  in  their  conversation, 
(heir  books,  iheir  laws,  and  their  religious  services,  acknowledged 
them  as  their  Gods.  The  importance,  ihc  absolute  neccssiiy,  of 
this  Command,  therefore,  are  evinced  beyond  every  reasonable 
question. 

Till-  observations,  which  I  propugp  (o  make  concerning  it,  I  shall 
comprise  under  the  following  ht;iidti: 

I.  The  History  of  Idol  lf\,r,hg,; 

II.  flsExlenl;  and, 

III.  7%e  Manner  in  nlach  it  haibeen  performed. 


SEB.  CI.]  SECOND  COMMA^DMEITT.  ]7g 

I.   IwillrteiU  to  you  a  brief ,  and  vtry  gtneral  JSiloTy  of  Idol 
Worship. 
We  rtre  not  inforiUGd  in  the  Scripluresof  the  precise  lime,  in 
L     whlrli  Idolatry  commenced.     It  is,  however,  abondaiiily  evident, 
k  that  iL  began  nol  long  afler  the  deluge.     According  to  (he  Chro- 
^^  oolo;;y,  commonly  received,  B^troAam  was  born  in  me  year  1997 
before  Christ,  and  in  the  year  of  the  world  2008:  three  hundred 
and  lifiy-lwo  years  after  the  flood;  and  two  years  only  after  the 
death  of  AonA.     Early  as  this  date  is,  the  ancestors  oi  Jibrahiim, 
seem  to  have  been  idolaters  for  several  generations.     Jofkva,  in  a 
solemn  assembly  of  the  tribes  of  hrael  at  Sheck^m,  addressed  the 
principal  men  of  that  nation  after  the  following  manner :  Thvt  saitk 
the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  your  fathers  dwell  on  the  other  side  ^f  the 
fiood,  in  old  time  ;  even  Urak,  the  father  of  Abraham,  and  thu  fa- 
ther nf  Kahor  ;  and  they  served  other  gods.     From  this  passage  it 
appears,  that  Terah  himself  was,  in  the  earlier  periods  of  life,  a 
wwahipper  of  false  Gods.     In  the  fifth  chapter  of  the  book  of  Ju- 
OTItUie  following  account  is  given  of  this  subject,  in  a  spt^ech  of 
Jmhr,  commander  of  the  host  of  the  Ammonites,  to  Holoftmu, 
^    Ctnera!  of  the  Assyrian  army.     "  This  people  are  descended  QJf 

rtne  Chaldeans  ;  and  they  sojourned  heretofore  in  Mesopotamia,  be- 
cause they  would  not  follow  the  Gods  of  their  fathers,  which  were 
n  ihe  land  of  Chaldea.  For  they  left  the  way  of  their  ancestors, 
■ad  worshipped  the  God  of  heaven,  whom  tnry  knew  :  so  they 
cast  them  ort  from  the  face  of  their  gods ;  and  they  fled  into  Met- 
opotamia,  and  sojourned  there  many  days."  Thi?  story,  which 
wag  probably  traditionary  among  the  Jews,  and  ne^hbouring  na- 
tions, and  is  not  improbably  true,  informs  us,  that  Terah,  and  his 
children  with  him,  worshipped  the  true  God,  before  they  quitted 
Uroi  the  Chaldces;  and  ttiat  they  were  driven  out  from  lliis,  their 
ori^nal  residence,  by  their  countrymen,  because  they  had  addict- 
ed themselves  to  the  worship  of  Jehovah.  It  would  seem,  there- 
fore, mat  the  Chaldeans  had  already  become  such  bigots  to  the 
worship  of  their  Gods,  as  to  persecute  Terah  and  his  family  for 
dissenting  from  what  had  become  their  established  religion.  This 
event  took  place,  four  hundred  and  twenty-lwp  years  only  after 
the  deluge.  Genlilism,  therefore,  or  the  worship  of  false  Gods, 
must  have  commenced  many  yearsbcfore  this  date  ;  both  because 
it  was  the  religion  of  Abraham''s  ancestoru,  and  because  it  had  be- 
came so  universal  in  Chaldea,  as  to  be  the  foundation  of  a  national 
pencciiiion  of  Terah  and  his  family. 

&>  William  Jones  has,  I  think  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner, 
[oorrd,  that  the  system  of  Gentiiisoi  among  all  the  ancient  nations, 
who  adopted  it,  was  the  same.  Ttua  remarkable  fact,  if  admitted, 
fitmislie.s  unanswerable  evidence,  thai  it  was  derived  from  a  single 
source.  For  it  is  impossible,  thai  different  and  distant  nations 
should  have  severally  invented  so  comphcated  a  system;  com- 
pcinni;  so  many  gods,  having  the  same  names,  having  the  same 


^ 


lyg  *  SECO^D  COMMANDMENT.  (SER.  CI 

febuimis  history  of  iheir  origin  and  character,  worshipped  with 

the  -:ime  numerous  and  diversified  riles,  and  having  the  same  va- 

I  riou-:  ;irid  peculiar  offices  assigned  lo  ihcm.     The  best  account  of 

r  this  rxtraordinary  fact,  which  1  have  met  with,  is  contained  in 

f  Bryaufs  Anali/sh  of  Ikt  ancient  ktalhtn  Muthoiogy.     This  learned 

1^  and  able  writer  has,  in  my  view,  rendered  it  highly  probable,  that 

L  this  religion  was  begun  by  the  Cuskiles,  or  that  mixed  multitude, 

who  attached  themselves  to  Mmrod,  according  to   the  common 

k  chrnnology,  about  the  year  of  the  world  1750  ;  and  formed  tbem- 

I  aelvi's,  seven  years  after,  into  a  nation,  or  body  pohtic,  under  hia 

doini'ilon.     These  people,  in  their  dispersion,  spread  over  many 

pans  of  the  earth  ;  and  by  their  enterprise,  heroism,  arts,  and  it^ 

geniiity,  appear  to  have  had  the  first  great  and  controlling  influence 

over  the  affairs  of  men,  both  secular  and  religious :  an  influence, 

the  I  Ifects  of  which  wonderfully  remain  at  (he  present  ijme. 

Ttie  objects,  and  the  rites,  of  worship,  adopted  by  these  peo- 
ple, seem  almost  all  to  have  been  found  in  the  history  of  (he 
I  delijij,e,  of  Abaft,  and  of  his  family.     At  first,  they  probably  ID 

tcniid  only  lo  commemorate,  in  a  solemn  manner,  this  awful  and 
djsa-^lrouB  event,  and  the  wonderful  prcservalion  of  this  family^ 
Th:(i  a  man  of  so  excellent  and  extraordinary  a  character;  a  man, 
I  finf.'lr(i  nut  by  the  voice  of  God  from  a  world,'on  account  of  hia 

I  pieiy  :    u  man,  who  was  the  only  pious  head  ofa  family,  amidst  ali 

ibe  iiJilhonsof  fhe  human  race;  a  man,  who  had  survived  the  rtirns 
IT"  '  of  one  H-orid,  and  begun  the  settlement  and  population  of  an- 
other; a  man,  who  had  been  miraculously  preserved  from  an  uni* 
veri.l  deluge;  a  man,  to  whom  the  postdiJuvians  owed  alt  iBcir 
rcL;,inn,  their  knowledge,  their  arts,  and  even  their  existence; 
rfiO'iil  be  coiqmemoraled  with  singular  fcehngs,  particularly  with 
singular  vcneniion,  was  a  thing  oi  course.  Equally  natural,  and 
necca-iary,  was  it,  that  the  most  solemn  remembrance  should  be 
rei;jiiied,  and  expressed,  of  such  an  amazing  event,  as  the  des true* 
tion  of  a  world.  High  veneration  for  any  being,  easily  slides,  if 
I  such^inds  as  ours,  into  religious  reverence :  especially  whtn  it  ia 

ir  publicly,  and  solemnly,  expressed  by  ceremonies  of  gfi  tiffeclfRi 
•wad  awful  nature.  When  ji'oak  particularly,  and  his  eC^tf  generaf 
ly,  h;id  been  often,  and  for  a  series  of  years,  commemorated  m 
qiis  manner;  the  history  of  man  has  amply  taught  us,  that  it  was 
no  f^irangc  thing  to  iind  them  ultimately  raised  lo  the  rank  and 
charjctcr  of  deities.  This  event  would  naturally  take  place  the 
sooner,  on  account  of  the  astonishing  facts,  included  in  their  a\a- 
gulnr  hifitory.  The  imagination,  wrought  up  to  enihusia&m  and 
terinr,  while  realizing  the  astonishing  scenes,  through  which  they 
haW  [i.i--ec),  could  hai-dly  fail  to  lend  iis  powerful  aid  towards  ihia 
i  aci  iirC.iDonization;  and  would,  without  much  reluctance,  aitri- 

biiii  lo  them  a  divine  character.    If  we  remember  how  much  more 
f  willingly  mankindhave  ever  worshipped  false  gods,  than  the  true 

One  ;  we  shall,  i  think  without  much  hesitation,  admit  the  prol:»> 


I  On 


t.]  SECOND  COMMANDMENT. 

)f  the  account,  which  has  here  been  given  concerning  lUi 
t. 

proofs,  that  the  authors  of  Gentilism  had  a  primary  refei^ 
1  JVoaA,  his  family,  and  their  history,  appear  to  me  lo  be  • 

;te  in  the  diiferent  symbols,  ceremonies,  objects  of  commc-, 
on,  and  names  of  persons  and  things,  together  with  the  whole 
logical  history  of  this  subject.  Multitudes  of  allusions  are 
in  all  these  things  to  jJoak  himself;  his  three  sons;  the  ' 

T  of  his  family ;  their  singular  history ;  the  deluge ;  the  i 

.he  dove ;  the  olive-branch  ;  and  various  other  particulars. 
of  these  are  too  explicit  to  be  mistaken;  and  many  others, 
ipiJcit,  yet  taken  together,  and  in  conneiion  with  these,  cor- 
Lte,  with  no  small  force,  the  account  which  has  here  been  | 

en  this  scheme  was  once  begun  ;  it  was  a  thing  of  course, 
should  be  rapidly  progressive.  When  mankind  had  depart- 
Ti  the  true  God;  it  was  natural  for  a  restless  imagination  to 
ly  the  objects  of  its  dependence,  and  worship.  Among  the 
B,  which  would  easily  engross  the  religious  attention  of  these 
*,  and  of  all  who  were  inclined  to  their  system,  the  sun,  i 

and  stars,  would  undoubtedly  be  some  of  the  first.     The 

tion,  splendour,  immutability,  and  beneficial  influence,  of  ■ 

glorious  luminaries,  are  so  affecting  lo  the  human  mind,  as  to 

-—•  •"  -  'i'-*''i<njished  place  in  its  contemplations.     Nothing 

!  13  more  fitted  to  t.»i.i.fe  o^^..-,  ..^„.^,^  „  ,^  .w?ke«j:"- 

and  astonishment ;  nor,  when  God  was  once  forgntien, -to 
;  religious  reverence.  Accordingly  we  find,  that  before  the 
>f  Job  the  worship  of  the  heaveniy  bodies  had  become  ex- 
e.  This  divine  Writer*  says,  chap.  xxxl.  26—28,  If  I  bt- 
\t  tvn,  when  it  skined,  or  the  moon,  walking  in  brighlnut ; 
\y  heart  hath  been  srcretly  enticed,  or  my  month  hath  kititd  my 
;  (Ai>  also  inere  an  iniquity,  to  be  punished  by  thijutigt  :  for  I 
I  have  denied  the  God  that  is  above.     Job  probably  lived  be- 

IGOOand  1700  years  before  Christ;  or  about  three  hundred 
fly  years  after  the  birth  of  Ahraliom ;  according  lo  the  cotu- 
:hroaology.     With  this  account  of  the  early  worship  of  ihest 
ial  objects,  profane  history  entirely  accords. 
'.  the  mind  was  unsatisfied  even  with  these  deities.     The  bu- 

ofmuttiplylng  them  was  carried  on  with  astonishing  rapidity, 
worship  of  deceased  men  had  already  been  rendered  to  J^oah 
is  family.  This  was  soon  extended  to  others;  and  then  to 
s  still ;  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  number  soon  became  enor- 
I  Hesiod  informs  us,  that  the  icufiMt,  or  demons,  v>  ho  ap- 
to  have  been  no  other  than  departed  men,  and  who  were  sujy 
I  to  mhabii  the  middle  regions  between  earth  and  heavenj  i 

nted  to  more  than  thirty  thousand.     In  opposition  to  iheat  "I 

*  1  ooniider  A6  u  Iha  lathor  of  tUi  bMk. 


••■t. 

178  SECOND  COMMANDBIENT.  [SER.  Cf^ 

deceased  betngs,  God  is  especially  called  m  the  StQ^  Volume  Hm 
living  God.*  From  deceased  men  the  tranailKNt  WaiS  easy  to  ani- 
mals ;  to  vegetables  ;  to  inanimate  objects ;  aad  to  the  visionvj 
beings  of  imagination.  Gods  were  soon  found  every  where  ;  ia 
mountains,  rivers,  springs,  the  ocean,  the  earth,  the  winds,  light, 
darkness,  groves ;  and  generally  in  every  thing,  which  was  particu- 
larly interesting  to  the  fancy. 

Among  the  reasons,  which  influenced  the  mind  to  this  restless 
and  endless  creation  of  deities,  the  first  place  is  due,  perhaps,  to  the 
apprehension^  that  this  conduct  was  an  evidence  of  peculiar  piety ; 
and  therefore  a  direct  mode  of  obtaining  blessings  from  some,  or  othevj 
of  the  objects  worshipped.  Another  reason  was,  the  complaisance 
of  one  nation  to  another,  which  led  them  to  adopt  their  respective  cbi- 
ties.  The  objects  of  worship  were,  to  a  great  extent,  the  same, 
in  different  nations :  yet,  being  called  by  different  names,  acxt 
worshipped  with  ceremonies,  dinering,  in  some  de^e  at  least,  ao 
cording  to  the  diversity  of  manners  in  different,  nations,  they  camei 
at  length,  to  be  considered  as  different  Gods.  The  Athenians,  un- 
der the  influence  of  both  these  causes,  appear  to  have  adopted 
most  of  the  deities,  of  whom  they  had  any  knowledge. 

Another  reason  for  this  conduct  judiciously  assigoM^^bj  Dn 
Blair,  is,  the  tendency  of  the  human  imagination  to  lend  miimatum, 
thought,  and  ^emy,  to  the  several  inanimate  objecii^  vnth  which  it  ii 

conversant,  antf  ftvtdktcA  it  ts  strongly  affected^-^^f^r*^^^^^  t-  ^'*** 
m^ki^k  ^-^  l^s^nm^f^mAwi^^^^ — ».^.«wi^ -^bxroiifansition  from  tbepto* 
gonincaiiuii  tif  nrom;  objects  to  tne  beliei,  that  tney  are  really  am* 
mated  by  an  indwelling,  conscious  principle,  and  to  a  consequent 
religious  reverence  for  them,  is  neither  unnatural,  nor  difficult, 
after  the  mind  has  once  become  devoted  to  Idolatry.  In  the  early 
stages  of  societVj  the  Imagination  is  eminently  strong,  active,  and 
susceptible.  AJwavs  ready  to  admire,  to  be  astonished,  to  be 
transported,  it  easily  acquires  an  ascendency  over  the  Reason^ 
then  always  weak ;  and,  together  with  the  passions,  directs  almost 
the  whole  conduct  of  man. 

It  is  scarcely  credible,  that  the  human  mind  originally  wor- 
shipped inanimate  objects  directly.  The  absurdity  of  believing, 
that  that,  which  had  no  life  in  itself,  and  therefore  no  agency,  nor 
consciousness,  could  hear  prayers,  or  answer  them ;  could  be  grat- 
ified with  praises,  or  sacrifices ;  could  inflict  judgments,  OK:i^ofer 
benefits ;  is  so  palpable,  that  even  a  savage  can  hardly  be  supposed 
to  have  admitted  it.  Much  less  can  those  people  have  adnutted  it, 
who  appear  to  have  been  the  originators  of  idolatry.  So  far  were 
ihe  Cushites  from  being  savages,  that  they  appear  to  have  been 
the  most  enlightened,  and  enterprising,  of  the  human  race,  at  the 
time  when  Gentilism  commenced.  It  is  highly  probable,  that  all 
these  objects  were  at  first  regarded  as  peculiar  manifestations  of 

*  Farmir  on  MInelts. 


t  _ 


tSKB.CI.]  SECOND  COMMANDMENT.  1 79 

the  real  Deity  t  fitted  especjally  to  display  his  attributes  to  man, 
and  to  make  oie-most  forcible  impressions  of  bis  agency.  In 
process  of  lirae,  however,  they  began  lo  be  considered,  especially, 
by  the  ignorant  multitude,  as  being  really  Gods  :  and  the  worship, 
originally  addressed  to  a  being,  supposed  lo  be  manifested  by  the 
symbol,  seems  ultimately  to  have  oeen  rendered  to  the  symbol 
itself.  The  stock  and  the  stone,  intended,  at  first,  to  bring  the  real 
Deity  before  (he  senses,  took,  al  length,  the  place  of  that  Deity ; 
and  became,  in  the  end,  the  real  objects  of  worship. 

It  is  evident  from  several  ancient  writers,  quoted  by  Shuckford, 
particularly  Clemens  Alexandrinus,  Herodian,  and  Paitsanius,  that 
piltan  of  stone,  and  after  them  rude  blocks  of  vmod,  were  ihc  Jirst 
sjfmbots,  made  by  mankind  of  their  several  deities.  Such,  it  is.sup- 
posed,  were  the  ttraphim  of  Laban,  stolen  from  him  by  his  daugh- 
ter :  and  such,  plainly,  were  the  religious  symbols,  fonned,  at 
early  periods,  by  the  Grtekt,  and  some  other  nations.  Stoues,  in 
their  native,  rude  stale,  such,  for  example,  as  that  erected  by 
Jacob  at  Bethel,  seem  extensively  to  have  been  set  up,  at  early 
periods,  with  various  religious  views,  and  designs,  by  the  worship- 
pers of  the  true  God.  The  pillars,  devoted  to  idolatrous  pur- 
Eoses,  seem  lo  have  been  derived  from  these.  They  were  not, 
owcver,  long  satisfied  with  these  unsightly  objects.  The  Eg^p- 
liarw  appear  to  have  had  carved  images,  devoted  to  the  purpose* 
^  of  religion,  and,  without  any  doubt,  molten  ones  siso,  before  the 
line  ofMoies  ;  for  we  find  Ine  children  of  Israel  forming  a  molleu 
calf,  at  the  fool  of  Mount  Sinai.  The  practice  of  forming  IdoU 
in  this  manner,  being  once  begun,  seems  to  have  spread  with 
great  rapidity,  among  the  nations,  who  maintained  a  muiuul  cor- 
respondence. In  the  more  distant  and  insulated  colonies  of  men, 
their  existence  began  at  much  later  periods.  In  Iiali/,  all  visible 
symbols  of  the  Deity  were  prohibited  by  Aamo  PompUius;  and 
were  not  introduced  into  Rome,  according  lo  the  testimony  of  P/w- 
tarck,  so  late  as  one  hundred  and  seventy  years  after  the  building 
of  that  city  :  that  is,  A.  M.  3426  :  in  the  time  o{ NebuchadnrziaT. 
Among  the  savages  of  this  country,  images  seem  to  have  been  lit- 
tle used. 

II.  I  shall  now  make  a  ftie  observalions  coTiceming  IheEiUnt  of 
Idol  worthip.  ' 

The  system  of  Gentilism  commenced,  as  has  been  already  re- 
marked, in  the  plain  of  Shinar.  The  Ctuhkes,  who  were  the  au- 
thors of  il,  ruled,  for  a  short  period,  mosi  of  their  brethren  in  the 
neighbouring  countries.  Soon  after  the  confusion  of  languages, 
an  event,  which  seems  to  have  been  chiefly  confined  to  thi'm  and 
their  associates,  and  which  entirely  disquahfied  them  for  nil  the 
efforts  depending  on  union  and  concert,  they  began  lo  di^jierse 
mlo  different  parts  of  ihe  earth.  Speedily  after  this,  ihcy  ajipear 
to  have  been  attacked  by  their  brethren  of  the  family  oi  S.'iem, 
•etUed  at  J^iluveh  and  its  neighbourhood,  and  beretofoi-e  reduced 


IfQ  SECOND   COMHAMJUEMT.  [SUni.  a 

under  their  dominion.     On  this  occasion,  the  Ctuhilei  were  com* 

!)Ieiely  routed,  and  forced  to  fly  with  great  expedition  into  dif- 
erent  parts  of  ihe  earth.  One  body  of  them  fled  into  Hin&;ilan  ; 
in  (he  records  of  which  country  various  events  of  their  hisiory  are 
gtill  found.  Another  made  their  way  into  Canaan;  when~  ihey 
were  again  attacked  by  the  same  people,  under  the  command  of 
Chedorlaomer,  and  again  overthrown.  Hence  they  fled  into  Egypt  f 
the  western  parts  of  Arabia  ;  and  the  northern  and  eastern  parts 
of  Abi/nsinia.  From  Egypt  they  were  again  driven  ;  and  went  into 
Phanicia  y  the  Les/er  Aa'ta  ;  Greece  ;  Thract ;  Italy ;  and  other 
countries,  bordering  on  the  Mrditerranean  and  Euxiiie  seaa. 
Whithersoever  they  went,  they  carried  with  ihem  llieir  enterpriie, 
arts,  learning,  and  religion.  Moat  of  the  countries  in  which  they 
settled,  embraced  their  idolatry  at  early  periods.  At  a  very  early 
period,  we  find  it  the  religion  of  the  ancestors  of  Abraham  in 
Chaldea,  These  were  descendants  of  Shem ;  who  outlived  Abra- 
Itam  himself;  and  who,  with  all  his  piety  and  authority,  was  still 
unable  to  prevent  this  senseless  desertion  of  the  true  religion.  In 
Hindostan  also,  it  spread,  at  a  very  early  date ;  as  it  did  :ilso  in 
the  western  countries  of  Asia,  in  Egypt,  and  most,  or  all,  nf  the 
eastern  parts  of  Europe.  The  worship  of  the  true  God  was,  how- 
ever, not  universally  renounced,  until  many  ages  after  the  com- 
mencement of  Genliiism.  Melchisedec,  Job,  his  friends,  and  un- 
doubtedly many  of  his  countrymen ;  the  people  of  the  Thtbait,  or 
Upper  Egypt,  and  probably  many  others  in  different  parts  of  the 
vorld  ;  still  retained  the  true  religion,  long  after  idolatry  had  been 
embraced  by  a  great  portion  of  Uie  human  race.  After  the  settle- 
ment of  the  Israelites  m  Caiujon,  we  find  few  traces  of  the  truere- 
.igion.  We  are  not,  however,  to  suppose  it  to  have  been  tvholty 
1}anishcd  from  all  other  countries,  till  some  time  afterward.  The 
precise  period,  when  the  whole  world,  beside  the  Jeics,  became 
idolatrous,  I  am  unable  to  determine. 

In  (he  fourth  century  after  the  birth  of  Christ,  a  new  kind  of 
idolatry,  or  rather  idolatry  in  a  new  form,  began  to  eiisl  in  tht 
Ckrittian  Church.  This  was  (Ac  vsorskip  of  Saints  and  Angeb; 
and,  afterwards,  of  imago,  pictures,  relics,  and  other  fantastical 
objects  of  devotion.  This  Idolatry,  though  at  first  vigoroiisly  op- 
posed by  the  body  of  the  Church,  and  afterwards  by  individuali 
and  small  collections  of  men,  spread  speedily  over  the  whole  of 
Christendom;  and  was  adopted  both  by  the  learned,  and  unlearn- 
ed, gf  every  country.  Thus  in  one  form,  and  another,  the  wor- 
ship of  false  Gods  has  prevailed  throuehoat  most  of  th<-  inhaUt- 
ed  world,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  reign  of  time.  I  shall  now, 

III.  Make  a/ew  observations  on  the  MarMtr,  in  which  lliis  ipmw 
$Km  has  been  perfomud. 

I  have  already  mentioned  Idols  as  being  intended  originatly  to 
be  mtani  nf  looTskipping  God;  symbols  of  the  Divine  CliuracUr 
and  AUribulet,  designed  to  impress  them  powerfully  on  the  scniM^ 


K    W^lli'i.^  [Q  excite  in  the  mind  animated  sentimcnls  of  awe  and  dc-  ' 

h 


L  CI]  tUCOND  COVHAMDMENT. 


«^l1i'i.^  [Q  excite  in  the  mind  animated  sentimcnls  of  awe  and  dc- 
^■Totioii.  Hcside  the  use  of  these  images,  Gcatilism  copied  closely, 
'in  its  wors-hip,  the  ritual,  originally  enjoined  by  God,  and  adopt- 
ed in  ihi-  [jure  worship.  Prayers,  Praists,  Sacrijicts,  and  Obla- 
tiotu,  wtrc  all  offered  up  to  its  various  deities.  FasHnga,  Ablu- 
liMu,  and  Ptnanct  of  many  kinds,  wepR  enjoined  on  their  infatua- 
b  ledvotsircs.  7«mp/M  were  erected  lo  them ;  Altars  biiill ;  Shrinca 
V  fonned  ;  ;md  regular  Orders  of  Priests  eslaljiahcd,  and  consecra- 
f  ted  to  an  occlusive  performance  of  llieir  Religious  Services.  Or- 
acle* also,  which  were  sometimes  pretended  expressions  of  the 
will  of  thfse  Gods  concerning  the  immediate  duties  of  men,  and 
someiimes  professed  predictions  of  future  events,  were  dehvered 
iomoii  or  all  of  the  countries,  ivhcre  idolatry  prevailed.  The 
Ftetirns  olVered,  were  to  a  great  extent  the  same,  which  were  pre- 
aG^)ed  in  die  law  oi Moses  :  probably  the  same,  which  had  been 
^mtcii  fi'orn  the  beginning  :  for  we  find  J^oah,  immediately  after 
the  delu^e,  offering,  of  every  clean  beast,  and  of  every  clean  fowl, 
hmt-ufftntigg  on  tfie  altar,  which  te  had  made.  Il  well  deserves 
to  be  rf narked,  that  in  all  the  records  of  heathen  worship,  which 
have  conn;  down  to  us,  the  votaries  appearnci'lAfr  lo  have  asked, 
ntr  given  thanks,  for  moral  good.  Secular  enjoyments,  of  every 
Idnd,  ihty  universally  solicited  ;  but  goodness  of  heart  seems 
Berer  to  liave  been  thought  of  as  a  gilt  coming  from  the  Gods. 
Accordinfjly,  Cicero,  who  must  have  been  well  acouainled  with 
dlis  subject,  says.  Who  ever  thanked  the  Gods  for  his  Virtue  ? 

Proeiisions  seem  also  lo  have  been  extensively  used  as  a  part 
attbc  religious  ceremonial  of  Gen'tihsm.  These,  logether  with 
'the  magnificence  of  its  temples,  (he  costliness  of  its  images,   and 

Spotnp  o.  Is  services,  were  all  intended  lo  affect  the  senses  in 
deepest  manner.  Indeed,  nothing  else  could  be  done  lo  keep 
Bvstrm  alive.  Argument  was  only  hostile  to  it.  The  li£ht  of 
aoona  Itca&on  would  nave  dispelled  its  darkness  in  a  moment. 
But  the  Senses,  and  through  them  the  Imaginaiion,  could  be  strong- 
ly addre'iscd  ;  and  these  could  entirely  govern  the  man. 

To  add  to  the  splendour  of  all  the  other  objects,  connected 
villi  this  service,  and  to  render  the  oblation  more  affecting  to  the 
■mtiiant,  as  well  as  more  acceptable  to  the  Deity,  offerings  ol 
crery  kind  were  made  more  and  more  expensive.     Gold,  silver, 
Mnu,  lix'  rhoicest  aromatics,  and  unguents  and  essences  made  ot 
tbein,  sUll  more  precious  than  gold  itself,  were  frequent  presents  ' 
to  tfie  God*  of  Molatry.     Hccaionibs  were  early  subsiituled  for  . 
ni^e  vfr.iims ;  and,  to  render  the  worship  still  more  propitiatory,  ' 
tbeflp  were  soon  exclianged  for  human  sacriiiccs.     To  complete 
the  efficacy  of  the  oUation,  these  sacrifices  were  selected  from  the 
hria^trsi  and  most  promising  youths  of  the  nation  j  the  sons  of  ihe 
BODle  and  princely,  and  infants  in  the  most  lovely  and  endearing 
|Mfiod  oflife.     Victims  of  this  kind,  also,  were  multiplied  lo  a 
.p  WlMricrful  degree.     Twenty  thousand  human  beings  are  supposed 


4 


I » 


>■ 


192  SECOND  COftlMANDBIEIfT.  [SOCtX. 

to  have  expired,  annually,  on  the  altars  of  Mexico  alone  ;  and  all 
these  were  offered  up  with  circumstances  of  cruelty  and  horror, 
which,  but  for  the  most  undubitable  tegtimony,  would  transcend 
belief.  To  these  dreadful  services,  violating  every  feeling  of  hs* 
manity,  but  wonderfully  affecting  the  Imagination,  were  added 
ablutions,  burdensome  on  account  of  their  frequency,  and  often 
on  account  of  the  great  distance  of  the  sacred  wafers  from  the  res- 
idence of  the  sunmiant ;  and  various  kinds  of  penance,  terrible 
and  excruciating!^  their  nature,  and  overwhelming  by  their  dura« 
tion,  were  customarily  added.  Thus,  though  Reason  and  Hu- 
manity were  wounded,  and  prostrated,  the  Imagination  was  com- 
pletely posseMed  by  the  demons  of  superstition :  and  miserable 
Man,  voluntaniy  losing  the  government  of  himself,  became  the 
sport  of  fiends  and  furies,  and  fitted,  only  for  the  gloom  and  chains 
of  bedlam. 

With  the  same  design,  and  under  the  same  impulse,  mankind 
sought  the  most  solitary,  and  the  most  awful,  recesses,  for  the 
celeoration  of  their  religious  rites.*  In  dark  and  lonely  groves, 
on  the  summits  of  lofty  eminences,  and  in  the  depths  of  awful 
caverns,  die  most  solemn  rites  of  Gentile  worship  were  performed 
at  early  p^ods.  These  scenes  of  stillness,  solitude,  and  terrofi 
were  perfectly  suited  to  rouse  the  imagination  to  ecstasy,  and  to 
enhance  the  gloomy  fervours  of  their  religion.  To  them  succeed* 
ed  temples,  of  astonishing  magnificence;  exhausting,  in  their  erec- 
tion, the  wealth  of  nations,  and  the  labour  of  ages.  These,  a!sO| 
were  ornamented  within,  an^  without,  with  every  thing  which 
riches,  ingenuity,  and  art,  could  supply  ;  or  which  was  calcula- 
ted to  impress  the  mind  of  the  votary  with  astonishment,  religious 
awe,  and  profound  reverence  for  the  beings,  to  whom  these  struc- 
tures were  consecrated. 

It  cannot,  I  think,  be  necessary  for  me  to  employ  any  argu- 
ments, for  the  purpose  of  enforcing  the  prohibition  in  the  text  OD 
the  minds  of  my  audience.  The  importance  of  it  to  the  Jews,  at 
the  time  when  it  was  eiven,  and  to  the  great  body  of  mankind, 
both  before  and  since,  is  abundantly  evident  from  the  observations, 
which  have  been  already  made.  6ut  in  this  land,  and  in  the  pre- 
sent state  of  religious  society  here,  no  transgression  is  less  likely 
to  exist,  than  that,  which  is  forbidden  in  this  passage  of  Scripture* 
Instead  of  attempting;  to  enforce  this  precept,  therefore,  on  those 
who  hear  me ;  I  shall  employ  the  remaining  time  in  making  a  few 
practical 

REMARKS. 

1st.  Mow  degrading  J  melancholy^  and  sinful  a  character  i$  hert 
prtsejUed  to  uSj  of  Man. 

•  See  Maurice's  AntSqoltieSy  Vol  iL 


CL]  SECOND  COMMANDMENT.  IgS 

This  subject^  perhaps  more  than  any  other,  holds  oat  to  our 
view  a  wonderful  exhibition  of  the  depravity  of  the  human  heart. 
What  sight  can  be  more  strange,  more  humiliating,  more  debasing, 
taran  Intelligent  nature,  than  that  of  rational  ana  immortal  minds, 
originally  virtuous  as  they  came  from  the  hand  of  Grod,  destined 
to  the  possession  of  endless  life,  and  formed  for  such  noble  and 
sublime  purposes,  prostrating  themselves  not  only  before  the  sun, 
and  moon,  and '  the  host  of  heaven^  but  before  men,  evil  spirits, 
visionary  beings,  animals,  vegetables,  blocks  qttrood,  and  figures 
of  stone  I  All  these  beings,  such  minds  have  converted  into  Dei-  ^  r, 
ties ;  and,  falling  down  before  them,  have  said  unto  them.  Deliver 
us :  for  ye  are  our  Gods.  Is  it  not  beyond  mtesuie  amazing,  to 
see  a  human  being,  a  rational,  immortal  being,  ed  into  a  forest; 
cut  down  a  tree ;  transport  it  home  on  a  wagon  ;  burn  one  part  of 
it  on  his  hearth ;  hew,  and  carve,  another  part  of  it  into  an  idol ; 
and  call  it  a  God !  Is  it  not  amazing,  to  see  such  a  tnan  confess* 
ing  himself  inferiof  to  a  stock,  fashioned  by  his  own  hands,  ac- 
knowledging his  dependence  on  it  for  life,  his  blessings,  and  his 
hopes ;  placing  his  trust  in  it ;  building  k)  it  temples ;  erecting 
altars ;  and  onering  up  to  it  prayers  and  praises !  Is  it  not  more 
unazing,  to  behold  tne  same  man  sacrincing  living  victims  to  a 
mass  ofwood ;  rational  victims  ;  nay,  more,  youths  of  (he  noblest 
families,  the  brightest  talents,  and  the  fairest  hopes ;  nav,  more  * 
still,  his  own  beloved  offspring ;  the  children  of  his  own  bowels ! 

What  shall  we  say  then,  what  shall  we  not  say,  when  we  behold 
kings,  heroes,  and  sages,  employed  in  this  manner  ?  When  we 
see  towns,  provinces,  countries,  and  continents,  nay,  the  whole 
earth,  all  unitine  in  this  infatuated  worsUp ;  with  an  universal 
forgetfulness  of  Jehovah,  the  Creator,  Preserver,  and  Benefactor 
of  all  beings ;  notwithstanding  the  hourly  demonstration  of  his 
perfections  and  agency  in  the  visible  universe ! 

Still  more  astonished  ought  we  to  be,  if  we  can  be  more  aston- 
ished, to  see  the  Israelites,  after  all  the  wonders  of  Egypt,  Sinai, 
and  Canaan,  in  the  midst  of  all  the  marvellous  blessings  civen  to 
their  nation ;  with  the  word  of  God  in  their  hands ;  while  his 
Prophets  were  daily  announcing  to  them  his  revelations;  while 
his  awful  oracles  from  the  mercy-seat  were  still  sounding  in  their 
cars ;  within  his  temple ;  before  his  altar ;  and  beneath  tne  awful 
splendour  of  the  Shechinah ;  forgetting  the  God  that  made  /Aem, 
and  lightly  esteeming  the  Rock  of  their  salvation  ;  wandering  after 
the  Idolatry  of  the  heathen ;  bowing  before  their  Gods ;  partaking 
in  their  sacrifices ;  absorbed  in  their  follies ;  and  embracing  their 
wickedness  with  all  their  heart. 

To  complete  this  dreadful  picture  of  human  depravity,  the 
whole  Christian  world,  with  few,  very  few  exceptions,  was,  for 
many  centuries,  buried  and  lost  in  this  stupid,  shameful,  monstrous 
w6rship.  The  progeny  of  J^oah,  who  began  this  unnatural  de- 
fection from'  their  Creator,  became  Idolaters,  while  the  waves  of 


IM  SECOND  COMMANDMENT.  [3ER.  Ct 

the  Deluge  had  scarcely  ceased  to  roar  around  this  wasted  world. 
The  Jews  became  Idolaters  at  the  fool  of  Sinai,  beneath  the  thun- 
ders of  the  Almighty.  The  Christian  world  became  Idolaters, 
when  the  Redeemer  was  in  a  sense  bleeding  on  the  cross  before 
their  eyes.  How  debased,  thea,  how  sinful,  how  miserable,  a 
being  is  man !  «. 

3dly.  These  observations  teach  w  the  indispensable  Jiecasity  of 
a  Revelation  to  such  a  world  as  this. 

It  has  been  shown,  that,  at  an  early  period  after  the  f.ood,  the 
whole  human  race  lost  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God,  iind  sunk 
into  the  moral  stupidity  and  wickeoness  of  Gentilism.  That  ra- 
tional beings  should  l)e  created,  or  exist,  for  any  End,  whicli  does 
not  involve  in  it  the  knowledge  and  worship  of  the  true  God.  is  a 
doctrine,  indefensible  by  a  smele  rational  argument.  \V  luit  pur- 
pose could  beings,  destitute  of  this  knowledge  and  worship,  be 
supposed  to  answer?  What  purpose,  1  mean,  which  God  could 
propose,  or  which  he  could  admit  as  useful,  as -desirable,  as  wor- 
thy of  himself?  Can  he  be  supposed  to  have  formed  ratiojiid  and 
immortal  beings,  to  be  ignorant  of  Him ;  the  only  Source  oi'  <^ood, 
of  wisdom,  excellence,  and  happiness?  Can  he  be  supjo.scd  to 
have  made  such  beings  capable  of  knowing  and  gloriiym^  him, 
for  the  debased  and  wi'eiched  end  of  worshipping  Gods  *)(  gold, 
silver,  wood,  and  stone  ?  Of  worshipping  them,  also,  wi.li  servi- 
ces deformed  with  falsehood,  cruelty,  and  impurity  ;  and  yiiended 
by  a  total  destruction  of  all  wisdom,  and  all  virtue  ?  Surh,  how- 
ever, to  a  vast  extent  has  been,  and  such,  without  Revc!  ilion, 
would  have  for  ever  been,  the  condition  of  mankind.  Revrhition, 
only,  has  taught,  and  preserved,  the  knowledge  and  worship  of 
the  true  God  m  this  guilty  world :  and  Mohammedans  ami  JnJiaelSf 
are  no  less  indebtea  to  Revelation  for  this  knowledge,  ti.ia  are 
Jews  and  Christians. 

Piety  has  been  heretofore  shown  to  be  the  foundation  (»r.dl  oth- 
er Virtue  ;  the  first  and  greatest  branch  of  this  glorious  ^li  ject; 
without  which,  the  virtue,  exercised  towards  our  fellow-cn mures, 
and  towards  ourselves,  cannot  exist.  But  piety  is  impose; Lie,  on. 
the  system  of  Gentilism.  The  great  constituents  of  this  divine  af- 
fection of  the  heart  arc  Love,  Reverence,  and  Rcsignaticn.  But 
how  can  love,  reverence,  and  resignation,  be  exercised  towards 
an  ox ;  a  crocodile ;  a  cat ;  a  frog  ;  a  fly,  an  onion ;  a  >iick  ot 
wood  ;  or  a  block  of  marble  ?  Here,  plainly,  there  is  nuii;ing  to 
be  loved,  reverenced,  or  regarded  with  resignation.  In  ihv  mean 
time,  perpetual  frauds,  falsehoods,  cruelties,  and  irapuridt  ,  udded 
a  total  corruption  of  all  the  affections,  and  conduct,  of  man  •«  wards 
himself,  and  his  fellow-men,  to  the  supreme  debasemer.:  o\  his 
character,  produced,  of  course,  by  the  acknowledgment  ami  wor^ 
ship  of  heathen  Gods.  This  system,  therefore,  oanishtd  moral 
excellence  from  the  mind ;  and  introduced  into  its  plac  e  every 
thing  that  was  despicable,  worthless^  and  wicked.     He,  wliu  does 


•^ 

•  Jt 


SDL  GL]      *  SSOOND  COBfMAia>BIENT.  ]M 

not  see  the  absolute  necessity  of^  a  Revelation  to  beings,  situated 
as  the  inhabitants  of  this  world  li^re,  must  be  voluntarily  blind, 
and  must  love  to  be  deceived.  You,  my  hearers,  are  now  in  the 
house  of  God.  You  know  his  existence,  presence,  charact^,  and 
agency.  You  are  employed  in  his  worship.  You  have  heaid  the 
glorious  tidings  of  foreiving,  redeeming,  and  sanctifying  love.  The 
Kedeemer  of  mankind,  and  the  ^iipiation  which  he  has  made  of 
sin,  have  been  announced  to  you,  from  the  cradle.  J%%s  house  is 
to  you  the  gate  of  heaven.  Here  the  hishway  commences,  which 
leads  to  that  glorious  world.  Immortal  Ufe  here  dawns  upon  you. 
A  voice,  from  amidst  the  throne  of  God,  invites  you,  here,  to  take 
fifthe  water  of  life  freely.  All  these  blessings  are  brought  to  you 
by  Revelation.  But  ior  Revelation,  you  would  have  been,  this 
day,  worshipping  a  demon,  or  an  ox ;  or  falling  down  before  the 
stock  of  a  tree.  But  for  Revelation,  you  might,  this.4fety,  have 
been  imbruing  your  hands  in  the  blood  of  one  of  yow  number, 
butchered  as  a  miserable  victim  to  Moloch.  Blessin^y  and  honour j 
m^  glory y  and  thanksgivings  be  unto  our  God  for  this  unspeakable 
g^  through  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord !    Amen. 


.1- 


Tou  IIL  U 


4      <ir 


9* 


SERMON  CII. 


X, 


# 


THE  LAW  OF  GOD. ^THE  DECAI^OOUE. THE  THfRD  COMMAIiD- 

MENT. THE  NATURE  OF  PROFANENESS. 


EioDut  XI.  7. — Thou  thiUi  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord,  thy  God,  in  vain  ;  for  (ftt 
Lord  will  not  hold  him  guiltlett,  that  takclh  hit  name  in  vain. 


^*  In  the  two  preceding  discourses,  I  have  considered,  at  some 
length,  the  nature  of  tlu  sins,  forbidden  in  the  first  and  second  Corn^ 
mands.of  the  DecmiJffilh  I  did  not  think  it  necessary,  after  the 
ample  discussion  of  'the  duties  6f  piety,  so  lately  dehvered  from 
this  place,  to  dwell,  anew,  upon  the  same  duties,  as  required  by  the 
former  of  these  Commands  ;  nor,  on  account  of  the  state  of  Chris- 
tian society  in  this  country,  to  insist  on  the  prohibition,  contained 
in  the  latter.  Considering  the  subjects  of  both,  as  suflScienily  can- 
vassed for  the  design  of  these  discourses ;  I  shall  now  proceed  to 
exaratae  the  Mature  of  the  precept,  given  to  us  in  the  Text, 

The  J^ame  of  God,  as  used  in  the  Scriotures,  has  by  djvines  of 
all  descriptions,  been  generally  regarded  as  denoting  his  J^ame 
literally;  his  Titles  of  every  kind ;  his  Perfections ;  and  generally, 
ercery  thing,  by  which  his  Character,  and  his  Pleasure,  are  modi 
known  to  mankind. 

To  take  the  name  of  God  in  vain  is  to  use  all,  or  either,  of  thestj 
to  no  valuable  purpose  ;  or  to  evil  purposes  ;  or  zoith  falsehood  j  or 
with  irreverlnce. 

Of  him,  who  does  this,  God  declares,  that  he  will  not  hold  him 
guiltless  :  that  is,  that  he  will  hold  him  guilty  ;  especially,  in  the 
great  day  of  trial  and  decision. 

In  discoursing  on  this  subject,  I  shall  examine, 

I.  The  Xalure  ; 

II.  The  Guilt ;  and, 

III.  The  Danger  of  this  Sin. 

I.  I  shall  examine  with  attention  the  Nature  of  this  Sin. 
The  Nature  of  this  Sin  may  Ije  advantagrously  unfolded  by  con- 

Bidering  it  as  it  respects  the  Mime,  and  the  Works  of  God, 

By  the  Name  of  God,  I  intend  the  several  names,  and  titles^  by 
which  he  has  been  pleased  to  distinguish  himself,  and  to  manifest  An 
character  to  mankind.  In  his  Works  I  shall  include  every  things 
which  he  has  wrought,  instituted,  and  declared,  as  an  especial  mani' 
festation  of  his  presence,  perfections,  and  agency. 

The  Name  of  God  is  profaned,  that  is,  treated  with  the  irrever* 
ence,  which  is  the  object  of  the  prohibition  in  the  text, 
Ist.  In  Ptrjury,  or  False  Swearing. 


IK.cn.]  THE  NATURE,  lu.  M» 

Ye  shall  not  sw far  by  my  name  falsely  ;  neither  shalt  thou  pro* 
fane  the  name  of  thy  God;  lam  Jehovah.  Lev.  xx.  12.  'J'o^^weap 
falsely  is  to  invoke  God  to  witness  a  lie.  1 1  is  scarcely  po.^.sjMe  to 
conceive  of  a  grosser  ifisult  to  the  Creator  of  the  Universe  than 
this.  He,  as  all  men  perfectly  well  know,  infinitely  loves  truth, 
and  infinitely  detests  falsehood ;  and  has  said,  that  then  sltull  in 
no  zDise  enter  into  the  heavenly  city  any  one^  who  loveth^  or  inaketh 
a  lie.  To  call  him,  then,  in  tnis  solemn  manner,  to  witiie.s>  a  false^ 
hood,  is  to  laugh  at  his  love  .of  truth,  his  disposition  and  power  to 
support  it,  and  that  glorious  purity  of  his  character,  before  which 
tlu  heavens  are  unclean^  and  the  Angels  charged  zoith  folly, 

2dlyi  When  the  Name  of  God  is  used  in  any  light,  imverent 
manner  ;  the  same  sin  is  committed.  *  a.^  v 

The  most  prominent,  and  most  udual,  modeii|S>l^transgr(  ssing,  in 
this  manner,  are  profane  cursing  and  swearing.  In  cases  ol  this 
nature,  the  Name  of  God  is  freciuently  employed  to  accompany, 
and  enhance,  diversion  ;  frequently  as  the  means  of  giving;  vent, 
with  peculiar  force,  to  the  violence  of  anger;  often,  also,  is  u  used 
to  aggravate  denunciations  of  revenge ;  and  very  often  disiionour- 
edby  unhallowed  lips  in  imprecations  of  evil  on  our  felloXv-men. 
In  every  one  of  these  methoa3,  the  Name  of  God  is  profaned,  times 
without  number,  every  day* 

I'his  glorious  and  awful  Being,  as  I  have  already  observed,  has 
all  possible  claims  to  the  highest  reverence.  Every  thing  lenches 
us  tnis  doctrine  :  the  Creation  and  the  Providence  of  God ;  Rea- 
son and  Revelation.  It  is  enforced  by  every  page  of  divine  truth ; 
and  by  every  dictate  of  the  human  conscience.  In  a  woid,  on 
all  things  within  and  without  us,  that  Won'ou^  and  fearful  Xame, 
Jehovah,  our  God,  is  written  in  sunbeams.  In  the  same  clear 
and  luminous  manner  is  every  where  displayed  the  indispe;i>:ible 
duty  of  reverencing  him  with  that  fear  of  the  Lord,  which  is 
Wisdom,  and  that  departure  from  evil,  which  is  undters landing. 
Nor  can  his  claims  to  the  performance  of  this  duty  be  ever  rclin- 
(joished. 

Indeed,  mankind  appear,  almost  universally,  to  possess  a  clear 
conviction  of  the  truth  of  this  doctrine,  and  of  the  indispensable 
oature  of  this  duty.  In  all  ordinary  circumstances,  the  worst  of 
men  acknowledge  both,  without  hesitation;  even  those,  wli  >  most 
freouenlly,  and  most  heinously,  commit  the  sin,  which  diedoe^rine 
pronibits.  Of  this  sin  God  seems  to  have  established  in  il.»"  con- 
idences  of  mankind  a  stronger  and  more  uniform  disapprobaiion, 
than  of  most  others.  In  few  cases  of  transgression,  is  there  so  htde 
lisagrecment  as  in  this.  Almost  all  other  sins,  men  labour  i.  jus- 
tify. I  know  not,  that  I  have  ever  heard  any  man  attempt  ^<  ■)  tIjt 
to  justify  j)rofaneness  of  this  nature.  He,  whose  tongue  is  ^l  .1  vi- 
brating with  cursing  and  swearing,  will  usually  acknowlrdg  ihat 
bis  conduct  is  inexcusable.  Arguments  to  prove  the  reality  ei  this 
ib,  are  therefore  unnecessary. 


ifig  THE  NATURE  [SER  Gtt 

3(11  y<  We  are  guilty  of  this  «n,  aUoj  when  we  invoke  the  J/ume  of 
Ood  I'g fitly  andirreverenily  in  prayer^  or  without  that  serioiut-iesSf 
humility^  and  religious  awe^  which  are  indispensable  to  the  acceptable 
performance  of  this  duty. 

At  all  times,  in  all  circumstances,  are  we  reauired  to  render  to 
Jehovah  our  supreme  reverence,  and  unfeigned  devotion,  whenever 
he  becomes  the  object  of  our  contemplation,  or  our  conduct.    His 
character  is  always,  and  immutably,  the  same  •  infinitely  great, 
awful,  holy,  and  excellent.     Our  relation  to  him,  also,  is  invariably 
the  same :  that  of  rational  and  dependent  creatures.     But  cspe* 
cially  is  this  reverence,  and  devotion,  to  exist  in  prayer.     In  the 
performance  of  this  duty,  so  solemn  in  its  nature,  and  bringing  us 
so  near  the  throne  of  majesty  and  mercy,  the  character  of  God,  our 
own  inferiority,  dependence,  obligations,  sin,  guilt,  danger,  and  in- 
finite necessity  of  the  divine  favour  and  blessing,  are  brought  up  in 
full  view,  and  forced  home  upon  the  heart.     Here,  therefore,  all 
inducements  to  reverential  thoughts  of  God,  and  all  advantages  foi 
entertaining  them,  are  presented  to  the  mind.     To  exhibit  irrev- 
erence, in  uiis  case,  therefore,  is  to  breakover  these  inducements, 
and  sottishly  to  neglect  these  advantages.     God,  here,  is  not  treat- 
ed irreverently  in  me  hourof  inconsideration,  of  strong  temptation 
and  surprising  sin ;  but  in  the  season  of  seriousness,  and  professed 
devotion.      We  taorship  God  acceptably,  when  we  worship  him 
with  reverence  and  godly  f ear.     God  is  greatly  to  be  feared  in  the 
assembly  of  his  saints,  and  to  be  had  in  reverence  by  all  them  that  an 
about  htm.     The  same  spirit  is,  in  the  same  manner,  demanded  in 
our  private  and  secret  aevotions.     When,  therefore,  the  mind  re- 
gards its  Maker,  in  this  act  of  devotion,  with  lightness  and  irrever- 
ence ;  it  is  not  only  clear,  that  it  is  guilty  of  the  sin,  forbidden  in 
the  text,  and  of  great  sin  ;  but  it  is  fearfully  probable,  when  this 
is  habitually  its  conduct,  that  it  is  at  all  times  the  subject  of  a  gen- 
eral spirit  of  profanation. 

4thly.  ^  still  mof%  heinous  transgression  of  tht  same  nature,  is 
Using  the  J^ame  of  God  Irreverently  in  the  solemn  act  of  Dedicating 
tht  Soul  to  hint'  in  the  Covenant  of  Grace. 

In  this,  the  most  solemn  transaction  in  which  man  is  ever  con- 
cerned on  this  side  of  the  grave,  all  things,  even  some  which  are 
not  appli(^able  to  the  taking  of  an  oath,  or  the  duty  of  prayer,  con- 
spire, id  the 'highest  degree,  to  make  it  affecting  to  the  mind.  The 
day,  the  place;  the  occasion,  the  transaction,  are  invested  with  pe- 
culiar solertihity  by  their  very  nature.  A  pre-eminent  solemnityi 
aWo,  is  ihrbwn  updlfe'^this  transaction  by  the  Character*  of  the  pe^ 
soti;  immediately  oMcerned ;  a  Sinner,  professedly  restored  to  the 
divine  favodt*:  the  subject  of  dedication;  an  immortal  mind:  the 
Being  to  whom  the  dedication  is  made;  a  pardoning  God:  the 
means  by  which  the  worship|)er  has  been  permitted  thus  to  dedi- 
cate himself;  the  righteousness  of  the  Redeemer :  the  end>,  for 
which  he  thus  offers  himself  up ;  the  glory  of  God,  and  his  own 


4 
t 


CD.]  OF  PBOFANENESS.  189* 

eternal  salvation.     All  these  things,  united,  plainly  render  this  the 
most  interesting  transaction,  in  which  the  soul  is  ever  engaged  ia  • 
the  present  world.     To  act  'lightly  and  irreverently,  then,  in  a 
concern  so  solemn,  so  eminently  affecting,  is  to  be  proiane,  against 
all  inducements  to  our  duty:  against  some,  not  existing  in  any  oth*  i 
er  religiousservice.     In  this  conduct,  all  these  mo6t  sacred  thines;  I 
God,  Christ,  the  work  of  Redemption,  forgiving  love,  the  Sabbafth, ! 
the  Sanctuary,  the  restoration  and  salvation  of  the  soul,  are,  if  it 
be  done  deliberately,  and  with  understanding,  treated  with   the 
grossest  contempt,  and  the  most  impious  mockery.     In  deliberate  ' 
conduct  of  this  nature,  the  mind  proves  itself  to  be  depraved  alto-  * 
eether  beyond  the  common  measure ;  and  the  conscience  is  evident*  ' 
ly  not  far  from  being  seared^  as  with  an  hot  tron. 

Generally,  he  who  regards  God  with  levity  and  irreverence,  in 
any  religious  service  whatever,  when  this  irreverence  is  directed 
inunediately  towards  his  character,  is  guilty  of  profanencss  in  the 
mode  specified  under  the  second  head.  In  other  words,  he  is  guilty 
of  profaneness  of  the  same  nature,  and  existing  substantially  under 
the  same  form^  with  that  which  is  found  in  profane  cursing  and 
smearing.  The  irreverence,  which  constitutes  the  peculiar  euilt  of 
this  latter  sin,  exists  also  in  the  former ;  and  in  both  is  immediately 
directed  against  God  himself.  Both,  therefore,  are  justly  consid- 
ered as  cases  of  the  same  nature. 

As  this  sin  respects  the  Works  of  God ;  or,  in  other  words,  what' 
ner  he  has  done^  declared^  or  instituted  ;  the  profoneness,  whenever 
it  e^sts,  is  exactly  the  same  in  its  nature,  but  different  in  the  mode 
if  its  existence,  from  that,  exhibited  under  the  former  general 
lead.  In  all  instances,  included  under  that  head,  it  is  Jirected 
igainst  God  immediately ;  but  mediately  in  those  now  rcfcTied  to : 
lie  irreverence  being  pointed  immediately  against  the  works  themr 
Hives  J  and  through  them  against  their  Author. 

God  is  often  treated  with  irreverence :  • 

1st.  In  the  works  of  Creation  and  Providence. 

The  works  of  creation  and  providence  are  merely  manifestations 
j{  their  Author.  In  all  of  them,  his  character  is  more  or  less  visi- 
ble ;  his  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness ;  his  self-existence,  and 
independence;  his  omnipresence,  and  omnipotence;  his  omni- 
idence,  and  immutability.  These  perfections  are  so  clearly,  and  . 
ID  extensively,  manifested  in  his  works,  that,  without  more  than  ' 
oommon  stupidity,  we  cannot  be  ignorant  of  them.  Of  conse- 
quence, we  clearly  perceive  them  to  be  the  works  of  God  :  and 
whenever  we  complain  of  them,  or  murmur  lit  them,  or  despise 
Aem,  or  ridicule  them ;  the  complaints,  the  munmtra,  the  contempt, 
and  the  ridicule,  are  intended,  ultimately,  not  against  the  works 
themselves,  but  against  their  Author,  ho  man  ever  thought  of 
treating  in  this  manner  inanimate  objects,  or  mere  events.  He, 
who  made  these  objects,  and  controls  these  events,  is  the  only 
hring,  against  whom  the  irreverence  is  intentionally  directed. 


»      . 

f 

1 

ft 

IffI    '  THfi  NATURE  pca.a|Lr 

'.  This  is  «o  obviously  true,  that,  probably,  it  was  never  serioudj. 
^questioned* 

The  same  sin  is  committ^  in  the  same  manner,  whenever  we 
assert,  or  insinuate,  that  these  worlu  were  made  to  no  end ;  or  to 
no-  end  worthy  of  their  Author.  In  such  a  case  the  character  oP 
God  is  profanely  impeached,  through  his  works;  because  we 
accuse  lum  of  weakness  and  folly.  No  folly  can  be'fliore  con- 
spicuous, than  that,  which  is  visible  in  doing  any  thing,  and  espe- 
cidly  very  great  thin^,  without  any  end  in  view,  or  without  any 
sveh'^ndy  as'is  suiteato  the  splendour  of  the  apparatus,  or  the 
chavader  of ;  the  workman.  Of  this  folly,  m  the  case  before  us, 
we  aeeuse  God. 

Profaneness,  of  an  exactly  similar  nature,  is  practised,  when,  io 
considering  ^  the  works  of  God,  we  intentionally,  or  negligendy, 
kktphit^gency,out  of  vuw,  dind  d^itiihuie  to  second  causes  tha^ 
which  plainly  /belongs  to  the  First  Cause.  There  are  philosophers, 
and  ever  have'  been,  who,  through  choice,  or  carelessness,  have 
considered  the  beings  and  events,  in  the  earth  and  the  visible 
heavens,  as  proceeding  in  a  manner,  and  from  a  cause,  resembling 
that  which  tne  heathen  attributed  to  fate.  Instead  of  supposing 
them  to  be  all  directed  by  an  Intelligent  Cause  to  purposes,  form- 
ed by  unerring  wisdom,  and  conducted,  regularly,  by  that  wisdom 
to  the  accomplishment  of  those  purposes  ;  they  are  I'egarded,  and 
spoken  of,  as  operating,  of  themselves  only;  without  any  direc- 
tion'; without  any^nd,  to  be  accomplished;  without  any  wisdom 
to  jnide,  or  intelliigent  agency  to  conUx)t» 

The  works  of  Grod  were  by  him  intended  to  be,  and  are  in  fact, 
ntenifestbtions  of  himself ;  proofs  of  his  character,  presence,  and 
agefi^.  •  In  this  light  he  requires  men  continually  to  regard  them; 
and  to  refine  this  regard  ^ifr  considered  by  him  as  grossly  wicked, 
and  highly  deserving  of  punishment.     Accordingly,  Davidy  says, 
Psalm  xxviii.  5,  Becattse  thejf  regard  not  the  works  of  the  Lordy  niof 
the  operation  of  his  hands\  he  shall  destroy  them,  and  not  build  thm$ 
vMi'-  AatdAv  also,  chap#  v.  12 — 14,  speaking  of  the  JewSj  sayi| 
Thep  regard  not  the  work  af  the  Lord;  neither  consider  the  cperth 
tibn  of  his  hands*     Therefore^  my  people  are  gone  into  captivity y  be- 
cause they,  have  no  knowledge  ;  and  their  honowtable  men  arefamist' 
edyand'^their  mulHtude  dridd  up  with  thirst.     TTiereforCy  hell  hath 
enlargedherself^  and  opened  her  mouth  without  measure  :  ana  their 
ghryi  and  Hheir  midtitudey  and  their  pompj  and  he  that  rejoicethy 
shall  descend  into  it. 

I  am  apprehensive,  that  even  good  men  are  prone  to  pay  less 
attention  to  the  works  of  Creation  and  Providence,  than  piety  de- 
OMnd^and  the  Scriptures  require.  We  say,  and  hear,  so  much 
ednccfning  the*  insufficiency  of  these  works  to  unfold  the  charac-* 
;er  bf  God,  and  thenaCure  of  genuine  religion;  and  find  the  irudi 
of -what' we- thus  say,  and  heir,  so  clearly  proved;  that  we  are  • 
pptoey  not  v&y  unnaturally,  to  coasider  them  at  almost  uninstruct* 


^Va^  or  ntOFANENESS.  191 

iTC  in  moral  things,  and  in  a  great  measure  useless  to  the  promo- 
lion  of  pieiy.  This,  however,  is  a  palpable  and  dangerous  error* 
The  works  alone,  without  ihe  aid  of  ihe  Scriptures,  would,  I  ac- 
koowlf  dgc,  be  far  less  insiniclivc,  than  they  now  are,  aod  utterly 
fDsuiIicient  lo  guide  us  in  the  way  of  rigtiieousness.  The  Scrip- 
tures were  designed  lo  be  a  Comment  on  these  works ;  lo  esplam 
their  naliire;  and  show  us  the  agency,  purposes,  wisdom,  and 
goodness,  of  God  in  ihcir  formation.  Thus  explained,  thus  illu- 
mined, they  become  means  of  knowledge,  very  extensive  and  pmi- 
nenily  useful.  He,  who  does  not  find  in  the  various,  beaulitW, 
sublime,  awful,  and  aslonishing  objects,  presented  to  us  in  crea-  » 
lioD  and  providence,  irresistible  and  glorious  reasons  for  admiring, 
idoria^,  loving,  and  praising,  his  Creator,  has  not  a  claim  lo  Evan- 
relical  piety.  £>aDicf  did  not  aci  in  this  manner.  All,  who,  like 
D^id,  feel  the  spirit  of  ihe  Gospel,  will,  like  him  also,  rejoice  ia 
thosr  works,  in  which  God  himself  rejoices  ;  will  delight  to  con- 
lemolaie  them  with  wonder,  reverence,  and  gratitude ;  will  Rnd 
Goa,  every  where,  in  the  works  of  his  hands ;  and,  passing  beyond 
iboae  second  causes,  which  are  merely  instruments  of  his  agency, 
vill  sec,  every  where  displayed,  the  unger,  and  character,  of  the 
&v\nc  Workman. 

2dly.  The  tame  Irreverence  ia  abundantly  eierciitd  toward*  the 
Wtffdo/God. 

Irreverence,  In  this  particular,  exists,  in  a  multitude  of  forms, 
ind  degrees;  altogether  too  numerous  lo  be  mentioned  on  this  oc- 
casion.    1  shall  select  a  few  from  this  number. 

First ;  77i<  Scriptures  are  not  unfreautnlly  made  the  object,  or  the 
mtant,  uf  sport  and  jesting.     David  says  of  himself,  Mi/  heart 


lUtndeth  m  awe  at  thy  jnord :  and  again,  addressing  his  Maker,. O 
io«  meet  are  Iky  Words  unto  my  taste !  God,  speaking  by  the 
Prophet  Isaiah,  says,  To  this  matt  will  /  look  ;  even  to  him  that  it 


fitr,  and  of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  that  tremblelk  at  my  fVord.  Hea 
0kmordo_fthe  Lord,  ye  thai  irevible  at  his  word.  He  shall  appear 
It  your  joy;  and  your  brethren,  that  haled  you,  fihall  be  ashamed, 
Sach  is  the  character  of  good  men  ;  and  such  are  ihe  promises  to 
tbosc,  who  tremble  at  the  viurd  of  God,  But  bow  diffrrenl  is  ihe 
ijn^t  of  those,  who  jest  with  this  sacred  and  awful  volume  ;  who 
can  find  sport  and  memmcnt  in  the  book,  which  unfolds  ihe  infi- 
tulHy  great,  solemn,  and  awful  character  of  Jehovah  ;  which  de- 
VQUncca  his  wraih  against  all  the  workers  of  iniquity  ;  which  opena 
to  our  view  the  Redeemer  of  mankind  on  the  cross  ;  which  dis- 
cJoses  to  us  all  the  glories  of  heaven,  and  the  straight  and  narrow 
w»y  !o  that  happy  world  ;  wbich  presents  to  ua  the  terrors  of  hell, 
witJi  ihe  drcaulul  road  tba;  leads  to  final  perdition;  and  which 
ibows  us  ourselves  as  objects  of  the  divine  indignation,  in  imminent 
wger  of  endless  ruin,  and  yet  as  prisoners  of  hope  ajid  canclw 
dUtes  for  life  eternal !  What  can  be  found,  here,  lo  excite  dive^ 
•ioo ;  u>  become  the  theme  of  gayeiy,  the  subject  of  laughter,  the 


1 

1 


193  THE  NATURfi  [BEB.  CB. 

foundation  of  amusement  and  trifling?  What  must  be  the  spirit  of 
him.  who  can  divert  himself  over  the  grave  ;  who  can  make  death 
'  the  topic  of  wit;  who  can  laugh  before  the  bar  of  the  final  judg- 
ment, and  sport  with  the  miseries  of  perdition?  He  must,  indeed, 
have  forgotten  the  God  that  made  him,  and  lightly  esteem  the  Rock 
of  his  salvation. 

Secondly;  T%e  same  irreverence  w  exercised,  when  the  Scriptwres 
are  rughcted.  Thou  hast  magnified  thy  word  above  all  thy  Jfamt. 
Psalm  csLxxviii*  2.  This  passage  is  thus  paraphrased  by  Dr. 
Watts : 

« 1*11  sing  thy  truth  and  mercy,  Lord ; 
rU  sing  tne  wonders  of  thy  Word  ; 
Not  ftll  thy  worluy  and  names,  below, 
So  mach  thy  power  and  glory  show." 

.  If  God,  then,  has  ma^ified  his  Word  in  this  manner ;  if  he  has 
rendered  it  the  means  of  displaying  his  character  so  much  more 
perfect  ly,  than  the  works  of  Creation  and  Providence  ;  if  he  has 
thus  rervlcred  it  inunenselv  important  to  mankind ;  if  he  himself 
appears  in  it  so  immediate! v,  so  clearly,  and  so  gloriously  ;  how 
inexcusable  must  we  be,  if  we  do  not  reeard  it  with  the  solemn 
concern,  the  deep  attention,  and  the  profound  reverence,  due  to 
his  infinite  majestv  ?  But  negligence  of  the  Scriptures  is  the  abso- 
lute [irovention,  the  certain  death,  of  all  such  emotions*  What 
veneraiion  can  he  possess  for  the  Bible,  or  for  the  Author  of  it, 
who  leaves  it  to  moulder  on  a  shelf;  or  who  reads  it,  when  he 
reads  it  at  all,  with  carelessness  and  stupidity ;  who  is  eaually  re- 
gardh  ss  of  its  doctrines,  and  its  precepts  ;  and  who  reaaers  to  it, 
univoi-sally,  less  respect  than  to  a  novel,  or  a  play  1 

Thir  Jly ;  The  same  irreverence  is  exercised  towards  the  Scriptures, 
when  we  do  not  duly  respect  their  authority.  When  the  Scnptures 
are  at  knowledged  to  be  the  Word  of  God,  an  end  is  put  to  all 
questions  concerning  the  truth  of  their  doctrines,  and  the  reasons- 
blenessi  of  their  precepts.  If  they  are  his  Word ;  every  thingi 
contained  in  them,  unless  it  be  some  error  of  a  transcriber,  or  print- 
er, is  true,  and  ri^ht.  Nor  is  this  all.  As  all  Scripture  is  mm 
hi  rnf/)! ration  of&d ;  so  he  has  declared  the  whole  t6  heprofilaUi 
for  duel  riney  for  reproof,  for  correction,  and  for  instruction  in  ngA^ 
tousnrss.  As  they  are  ;  he  has  declared,  that  they  are  the  genu- 
ine means  of  perfecting  the  man  of  God,  and  of  furnishing  him  tkot' 
oughli/  Hfito  every  good  work.  The  plain  duty  of  all  men,  there- 
fore, is  carefully  to  understand,  implicitly  to  believe,  and  exactly 
to  obey,  them.  If,  then,  we  find  some  doctrines  partially  revealed; 
tome  mysterious,  and  inexplicable  in  their  nature ;  and  these,  or 
others,  contradicting  our  own  pre-conceived  opinions  :  if  we  doubt, 
or  di>i)elieve,  such  doctrines,  because  our  own  philosophy  is  on- 
8atis!K{|  with  them,  opposed  to  them,  or  unable  to  explain  them: 
we  wholly  fail  of  the  reverence,  due  to  Him,  who  has  declared 


en.]  OP  PROFAmSNESS.  193 

tbem ;  and,  in  a  manner  highly  afirontiye,  impeach  his  wisdom  and 
Teracity. 

•  The  Bereans  received  the  word,  preached  by  the  Apostled,  with 
mU  rradiMss  of  mind :  and,  to  be  satisfied  whether  it  was  true,  did 
not  appeal  to  their  own  reason,  but  to  the  Scriptures;  which  they 
gtarched  daily,  for  this  end.  All,  who  possess  the  liberal  and  noble- 
minded  disposition,  ascribed  to  them,  will  pursue  exactly  the  same 
conduct ;  and  will  say,  with  St,  Paid,  Let  God  he  true,  but  every 
man  a  liar.  It  was  from  this  disposition,  that  they  believed,  in  the 
ETangclical  sense,  and  were  saved.  All,  who  possess  the  same 
spirit,  will  share  in  the  same  faith,  and  the  same  salvation.  What 
can  be  more  preposterous,  more  indecent,  more  irreverential  to 
God,  rhan  for  oeings  of  yesterday,  who  know  nothing,  to  question 
die  wisdom,  and  the  truth,  of  his  declarations ;  and,  instead 
of  believing  what  he  has  said,  upon  the  ground  of  his  veraci^ 
♦y,  to  insist  on  perceiving,  before  we  give  credit  to  it,  the  truth 
ttkd  reasonableness  of  the  doctrines  declared,  by  means  of  our 
own  philosophy.  To  men,  whose  sincerity  we  consider  as  prov- 
ed, we  rcaaily  yield  our  belief,  whenever  they  declare  such 
Afaigs,  as  they  have  had  opportunity  certainly  to  know.  God 
Ibiows  all  things  with  absolute  certainty.  Ought  he  not,  then,  to 
be  btlievod,  in  whatever  he  is  pleased  to  declare  ?  Is  not  his 
fieracity  greater  than  that  of  men  ?  If,  then,  we  receive  the  toitnesM 
§f  men^  the  witness  of  God,  saith  St.  John,  is  greater.  He,  that 
filievfth  not  God,  hath  made  him  a  liar.  What  wonderful  irrever- 
mte  is  this  towards  God !  What  an  impudent  insult !  How  tre- 
■endous«Q  profanation  of  his  glorious  character ! 

Fotirthly ;  Of  the  same  nature  is  the  Contempt,  Obloquy,  and 
Midiculc^  often  cast  upon  the  Scriptures.  The  Scriptures,  in  mstan- 
ces  not  very  unfrequent,  receive  this  treatment  from  those,  who 
jrofe.ssedly  believe  them ;  and  much  more  frequently  from  Infi- 
dels. A  man,  who  has  not,  hitherto,  seen  sufficient  evidence  to 
|Mvr  the  divine  origin  of  the  Scriptures,  may  be  fairly  considered 
il  warranted  to  withhold  fi*om  them  his  assent.  At  the  same  time, 
Im  is  iruli^pensably  bound  to  investi^te  this  evidence  as  fast,  and 
at  fer.  as  he  is  able ;  and  to  yield  himself  to  it,  whenever  it  is  per- 
dBive<l.  with  candour  and  equity.  But  nothing  can  justify,  or  even 
|oIliate.  flie  manner,  in  which  Infidels  have  conducted  iheironpo- 
■tioii  to  ihis  hook.  There  is  no  mode  of  attack,  which  they  nave 
Aought  too  gross  to  be  adopted  in  this  warfare.  The  fi*auds,  which 
Ihev  li:»vr  pi-dctised  upon  Christianity,  have  been  without  number, 
•Bcl;  without  limits.  All  the  weakness,  folly,  superstition,  and  en- 
iMi*?ia>;i,.  I. liferent  in  the  nature  of  man,  they  have  charged  upon 
il»  do(ii'r,,>. ;  although  these  very  doctrines  contradict,  and  con- 
demn ;l.":v  'til.  All  the  vices,  inwoven  in  the  human  character; 
•11  ih*'  J  r»rniiies,  perpetrated  by  the  pride,  injustice,  and  cruelty, 
of  n;:«.i  :  '.^»'V  have  charged  upon  its  precepts;  notwiihsianding 
Ae^^  ^<  ;'v  .  i*(re|)ts  prohibit  evervone  of  them,  and  threaicu  rhem, 

V.>.  .  Mli  '25 


I 


194  THE  NATURE  [SEB-  CO. 

Ufliversally,  with  endless  punishment;  The  Religion  itself  thej 
have  regularly  styled  Superstition,  Enthusiasm,  and  Fanaticism; 
and  hare  thus  endeavoured  to  prepossess,  and  to  a  vast  extent 
have  actually  prepossessed,  great  multitudes  of  mankind  against 
it,  under  the  mere  influence  of  Nicknames.  Where  they  could  not 
convince,  or  refute  ;  an  evil  which  has  universallv  attended  their 
efforts ;  they  have  succeeded,  at  least  equally  well,  by  i>erplexing4 
and  entanzlmg.  Instead  of  open,  direct  arguments,  fairly  statecT 
and  fully  aiscussed,  they  have  insinuated  doubts ;  started  difficul 
ties;  and  hinted  objections;  leaving  the  minds  of  the  young,  the 
ignorant,  and  the  unskilful,  to  embarrass  themselves  by  dwelling 
upon  these  subjects,  which  they  had  neither  learning  to  investi- 
gate, nor  capacity  to  understand.  In  this  situation,  such  minds 
are  as  effectually  overthrown,  from  a  consciousness  of  their  ina- 
^  bility  to  defend  themselves,  as  by  the  power  of  an  acknowledged 
demonstration. 

What  they  have  been  unable  to  effect  in  these  modes,  they  have 
endeavoured  to  accomplish  by  wit.  A  book,  professing  to  be  the 
Word  of  God,  to  communicate  his  Will  to  mankind,  and  to  dis- 
close eternal  life,  and  eternal  death,  to  every  human  being,  togetb* 
er  with  the  terms,  and  means,  by  which  one  of  these  may  be 
'  obtained ;  and  the  other  must  be  suffered ;  a  book  believed  truly 
to  sustain  this  character  by  a  great  part  of  those,  to  whom  it  has 
been  fairly  published;. particularly  oy  most  of  the  learned,  and 
b^  almost  all,  whom  tlieir  fellow-men  have  regarded  as  wise  and 
virtuous ;  has  unquestionable  claims  to  be  examined  with  solemn 
thought,  and  unbiassed  investigation.  The  question  concerning 
its  divine  Origin  is  of  infinite  moment  to  every  child  of  Adam.  He, 
who  can  sport  with  this  subject,  would  with  the  same. propriety 
laugh,  while  he  heard  the  sentence  of  death  pronounced  upon  him; 
anddance  around  the  grave,  which  was  dug  to  receive  him.  Sup- 

{»ose  the  Scriptures  are  in  fact  the  Word  of  God :  suppose  toe 
nfidel  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Sinai :  suppose  he  heard  the  trumpet 
sound,  and  the  thunders  roll;  saw  the  lightnings  blaze,  the  cloud 
embosom  the  mountain*,  and  the  flame  of  devouring  fire  reach  the 
heavens;  and  perceived  the  earth  to  tremble  beneath  his  feet: 
suppose  the  final  day  arrived,  and  the  same  Infidel  to  hear  the  call 
of  the  Archangel,  the  trump  of  God,  and  the  shout  of  the  heavenly 
.{  host ;  and  to  see  the  graves  open,  the  dead  arise,  the  Judge  de- 
scend, the  plains  and  the  mountains  kindled  with  the  final  confla- 
gration, and  the  heavens  and  the  earth  flee  away :  would  he  be 
mclined  to  jesting,  to  sport,  and  to  ridicule  ?  The  Scriptures  de- 
clare themselves  to  be  the  Word  of  the  glorious  Being,  who  spoke 
firom  Sinai,  and  who  will  again  come  to  Judge  the  qtdck  and  the 
dead.  The  very  terms,  by  which  the  Infidel,  and  all  his  fellow- 
men,  will  be  tried  on  this  cteadful  day,  the  Scriptures  profess  to 
unfold ;  the  very  terms,  on  which,  to  us,  are  suspended  both  heaven 
^nd  hell.    Should  the  Scriptures  be  indeed  the  Word  of  that  God; 


GIL]  OP  PROFANENESS.  ig^ 

what  will  become  of  the  Infidel?  Should  they  not;  what  will  he 
lose  by  believing  them  ?  Where,  then,  is  the  place  for  his  sport  ? 
where  the  foundation  for  his  trifling  ? 

Could  the  contempt,  or  the  ridicule,  which  he  employs,  really 
affect  the  question;  and  exhibit  it  in  any  new  light  to  the  under- 
itandine  ot  man;  something,  at  least, might  be  pleaded  in  extenu- 
ation of  this  conduct.  But  ridicule,  however  gross  the  banter,  or 
"efined  the  wit,  cannot  be  ])roof.  A  sneer  cannot  be  an  argument. 
^  ^  question,  after  every  effort  of  this  nature,  is  left  just  where  it 
was :  while  the  inquirer  is  ensnared,  deceived,  and  ruined.  How 
DEielancholy  an  employment,  to  destroy  a  soul  for  the  sake  of  utter- 
inga  jest! 

To  complete  this  wretched  pursuit  of  this  wretched  purpose, 
the  Infidel  assaults  the  Scriptures  with  obscenity.  In  periods  and 
places,  in  which  coarse  manners  prevail ;  when  the  animal  side  of 
man  is  left  naked ;  and  the  feelings  and  conduct  of  the  brute  ob-  *^ 
trade  themselves  without  a  blush ;  this  obscenity  breaks  out  in 
ROSS  ribaldry,  and  the  shameless  dialect  of  the  workhouse  and 
tne  brothel.  In  more  chastened  society,  the  impurity,  lest  it  should 
be  too  offensive,  is  veiled  by  decency  of  expression ;  steals  upon 
the  mind  in  an  innuendo ;  glances  at  it  in  a  nint,  and  peeps  from 
behind  an  obscure  suggestion.  What  a  shocking  mixture  is  here 
presented  to  the  thoughts  of  a  sober,  and  even  ol  a  decent,  man ! 
Obscenity,  blended  with  the  truths,  contained  in  the  Word  of  God. 
How  obviously  must  the  mind,  which  can  voluntarily,  which  can 
laboriously,  unite  these  things,  be  the  habitation  of  devih  ;  the  hold 
^  every  foul  spirit,  and  a  cage  of  every  unclean  and  hateful  bird! 
□low  irreverent,  how  profane,  how  abominable^  how  filthy y  must  it 
ippear  to  Him,  in  whose  sight  the  heavens  are  unclean! 

3dly«  This  irreverence  is,  perhaps,  not  less  exercised  toward  the 
huiituiions,  or  Ordinances,  of  God. 

God  has  instituted,  as  important  means  of  displaying  his  own 
ebaracter,  preserving  his  worship,  and  promoting  his  religion,  in 
the  world,  the  Sabbath ;  public  and  private  prayer  and  praise ; 
die  preaching  of  the  Gospel ;  public  and  private  humiliation  and 
bsting ;  the  Church  of  Christ ;  its  communion ;  its  sacraments ; 
ind  its  discipline.  As  all  these  are  his  Institutions ;  and  seen  to 
be  his ;  it  is  obvious,  that  irreverence  towards  them  is  irreverence 
towards  himself;  and  in  this  manner  has  the  subject  ever  been  "  « 
xinsidered  in  the  Christian  world.  It  will  be  easily  seen,  that  the 
rarious  ways,  in  which  this  numerous  train  of  sacred  things  is  pro- 
imed,  are  so  many,  as  to  render  it  impracticable  to  specify  tnem 
m  the  present  occasion.  I  shall,  therefore,  attempt  only  to  men- 
ion  such,  as  are  most  usual,  or  most  prominent. 

The  Scibbath  is  undoubtedly  the  great  support  of  Religion  in  the 
irorld  ;  for  wherever  it  is  unknown  or  unregarded.  Religion  is  un- 
known. Accordingly  God  has  been  pleased  to  make  it  the  sub- 
ject of  one  of  the  Commands  of  the  Decalogue.    This  holy  day  is 


»  ■ 

4 


]$6  '^^BR  NATUBE  [8£R.  C8. 

profaned,  and  the  Author  of  it  treated  with  gross  irreverence,  when- 
ever it  is  devoted  to  pleasure,  or  to  secular  business :  whenever  we 
ride,  or  walk,  when  neither  necessity  nor  mercj  demands :  when- 
ever we  read  books  of  amusement,  and  diversion;  or  devote  our 
conversation  to  any  topics,  unsuited  to  the  holy  nature  of  this  day* 
Nor  is  it  less  really  profaned,  when  we  spend,  its  sacred  hours  in 
idleness,  or  sleep ;  or  when,  in  any  other  manner,  we  refuse,  or 
neglect,  to  employ  them  in  the  great  duties  of  Religion.  Equally, 
and  more  obviously,  ai*e  we  guilty  of  this  profanation,  when  we 
^eak  of  the  Sabbath  with  contempt ;  and  ridicule,  or  laugh  at, 
others  for  regarding  it  with  the  reverence,  enjoined  in  the  Scrip- 
tures; decry  the  Institution,  as  useless  ;  as  injurious  to  the  interests 
of  mankind ;  and  as  deserving  the  regard  of  none,  but  weak  and 
enthusiastic  minds :  or  when,  with  direct  hostility,  we  deny  its  sa- 
cred nature ;  labour  to  weaken  its  authority ;  and  endeavour  to 
destroy  its  holy,  heavenly  influence  on  mankind.  In  all  these  cases, 
we  impeach  the  wisdom,  equity,  or  goodness,  of  its  Author ;  de- 
clare him,  when  instituting  it,  to  have  acted  unworthily  of  himself; 
and,  in  plain  language,  cast  contempt  on  Himj  as  well  as  on  his 
Institution.  No  man  ever  thought  ol  treating  with  contempt  this 
.  holy  day,  considered  merely  as  a  seventh  part  of  time ;  no  man 
ever  directed  the  shafts  of  ridicule  at  Monday.  Aside  from  the  fact, 
that  it  was  instituted  by  God  as  a  sacred  day,  the  Sabbath  would 
be  no  more  despised,  and  regarded  with  no  more  hostility,  than  any 
other  day  of  the  week.  The  hostility  and  contempt,  therefore,  ar« 
directed  against  the  Institution ;  against  its  sacrea  nature ;  against 
its  holy  and  glorious  Author. 

Tht  Worship  of  God  is  profaned,  whenever,  for  reasbns  plaiidy 
insufficient,  we  refuse  to  be  present  in  his  house,  upon  the  ffturlmth; 
or,  when  present,  neglect  cordially  to  unite  in  its  solemn  senrices; 
or  spend  the  time  allotted  to  them  in  sleep  or  diversion ;  or  whea 
we  sport  with  the  services  themselves ;  or  when  our  minds  rise  in 
hostility  against  the  faithful  preaching  of  the  Gospel ;  or  when  we 
make  the  worship  of  God  an  object  of  our  scorn  and  ridicule. 
Nor  are  we  less  really  guilty  of  this  crime,  whenever  we  allure  or 

Sersuade  others  to  tne  same  conduct.  The  worship  of  God  W9A 
esigned  to  be  the  ^eat  means  of  leading  us  to  eternal  life.  God  ap 
pears  in  it  as  a  forgiving  God ;  as  a  God  reconcileable  to  sinners ;  as 
redeeming  them  from  under  the  curse  of  the  law ;  and  as  re-instamp- 
ine  his  own  image  on  their  minds.  He,  who  will  not  come  to  meet 
Hun,  when  appearing  in  this  most  venerable  and  endearing  of  all 
characters,  or  who,  when  he  has  come,  will  treat  him  with  neglect* 
opposition,  and  contempt,  is  euilty  of  an  insult  on  the  Creator,  at 
which  the  stoutest  heart  ought  to  tremble.  What  an  acQount  of 
this  conduct  must  he  expect  to  give  at  the  final  day ! 

Tht  Christian  Sacraments  are  nol  often  openly  profaned.  The 
elements  employed  have,  indeed,  been  touched  with  unhallow^ 
hands ;  and  t)ie  ordinances  themselves  hav^i  in  solitary  ij^^tancM^ 


8ER.  Cn.]  OF  FB0FANENE8S.  I97 

been  insulted  by  blasphemous  mimicry.  But  the  cases  have  been 
so  rare,  and  have  been  regarded  by  those,  who  knew  them,  with 
such  abhorrence  ;  as  scarcely  to  need  any  reprobation  from  me* 
I  shall,  therefore,  only  say,  that  according  to  the  first  feeliogs  of 
the  human  mind,  feelings,  which  seem  never  to  have  been  mate* 
rially  weakened,  unless  by  absolute  profligacy,  they  are  univei^ 
sally  held  in  the  most  reverential  estimation ;  and  all  disregard, 
thoughtlessness,  and  levity,  are  not  only  by  the  Scriptures,  but  by 
common  sense  also,  proscribed  in  our  attendance  upon  them*  If 
we  arc  not  wonderfully  insensible  ;  we  cannot  fail  of  exercising  a 
profound  reverence,  when  in  this  peculiarly  solemn  and  affecting 
manner  we  draw  so  near  to  a  forgiving  God. 

Private  and  secret  Worship  is  much  more  frequently  the  object 
of  levity,  and  contempt.  Family  prayer,  peculiarly,  has  been  at- 
tacked, on  all  sides,  by  loose  and  light-minded  men ;  and,  I  doubt 
not,  has  been  hunted  out  of  many  a  family,  and  prevented  from 
entering  many  others,  by  the  sneers  of  scorn,  and  the  jests  of  de- 
rision. Why  should  not  men  pray?  Why  should  not  families 
pray  ?  Are  we  not  dependent  creatures  T  Do  we  not  need  every 
thing  at  the  hand  of  God  ?  Who  beside  God,  can  supply  our 
wants  ?  Has  he  not  required  us  Iq  pray  ?  If  we  do  not  pray,  will 
he  bless  us  ?  Has  he  not  mdide  mskmg  the  indispensable  condition' 
of  receiving  F  The  mauy  who  will  not  pray,  is  a  madman.  The 
family  J  which  will  not  pray,  arc  lunatics. 

God  has  required  us  to  pray  always  with  all  prayer  j  and,  there- 
fi)re,  to  perform  regularly  the  duties  of  both  private  and  secret  de- 
▼otion«  When  we  ourselves  neglect  either ;  or  when  w,e  oppose 
the  performance  of  them  in  our  fellow-men ;  we  neglect,  or  op- 
p0W|  the  command  of  Jehovah.  He,  who  laughs  and  sneers  at 
■Btatt  and  family  prayer,  points  his  jests,  his  contempt,  and  his 
mockery,  against  his  Creator.  Where  can  folly,  or  frenzy,  be 
found,  more  absolute  than  this  ?  The  wretch,  who  is  guilty  of  it, 
is  a  helpless,  sinful,  miserable,  creature ;  dependent  for  existence, 
for  enjoyment,  and  for  hope,  on  the  mere,  sovereiiii  mercy  of  God; 
is  promised  all  blessings,  which  he  needs,  if  he  will  pray  for  them ; 
tod  is  assured,  that,  if  he  will  not  pray,  he  not  only  will  be  enti- 
ded  to  no  blessines  whatever,  but  tliat  those,  which  he  regards  as 
blessings,  and  which,  if  he  faithfully  performed  this  duty,  would 
prove  such,  will  be  converted  into  curses.  This  wretch  not  only 
refuses  to  pray  himself,  but  with  gross  impiety,  insults  his  Maker 
anew,  by  preventing  his  fellow-men  from  praying  also. 

I  shall  only  add,  that  Irreverence^  the  same  in  substance  with  thatj 
MJUcA  has  been  here  specified^  may  exist  in  thought^  and  in  action^  as 
ifell  as  in  words.  In  some  of  the  cases,  which  I  have  mentioned, 
i  has  been  indeed  supposed  to  terminate  in  thought*.  It  may  thus 
herminate  in  all  cases,  which  do  not  involve  our  intercourse  with 
rar  fellow-men.  In  this  intercourse  it  may  be  exhibited  in  ac« 
Sons ;  and  those  of  very  various  kinds.     Of  these  a  very  lew 


^1 


IM 


vmi47U18il^« 


DHdlgh. 


have  been'mentioneiL  ;%h  only  D^cessaiyto  observe,  that^  wheop 
ever  our  hearts  teem  mvlpreverent  thoughts  towards  God,  or  to- 
wards any  thioft  because  it  is  his,  it  makes  little  difference,  whether 
we  express  difl^npiety  by  the  ton^e,  or  by  the  bands*  The  iiw 
reverence  is  tbo'Jame :  the  design  is  the  same  :  the  moral  action 
k  the  same*  It  is  the  rising  of  pride,  enmity,  md  rebellion, 
aeainst  God ;  the  open,  impudent  contention  of  a  creature  against 
his  Creator;  the  struggle,  the  swelling,  the  writhing,  of  a  wonn 
tgpinst  Jehovah* 


f 


<i 


* 


4  .* 


SERMON  Citl. 


THS    LAW   or   OOD. — THE   DECALOGUE. THE   T^I&D    COMMAND- 
MENT.  THE    OUILT    OF   PR0FANBNE8S. 


EiODVt  iz.  7. — Thou  ahalt  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  Qod  im  vain :  far  Ike 
Lord  will  not  hold  him  guiltlettf  that  taketh  hit  name  in  vain, 

IN  the  preceding  discourse,  I  proposed,  after  making  several 
introductory  remarks,  to  examine, 
L  Tlu Nature; 

II.  The  Gvilt ;  and, 

III.  The  Danger  ;  of  the  Siriy  forbidden  in  this  Command. 
The  first  of  these  I  considered,  at  length,  in  that  discourse.     I 

shall  now  proceed  to  make  some  observations  concerning  the  le* 
cond ;  viz.  the  Guilt  of  this  sin.     The  guilt  of  this  sin  is  evident, 

1st.  From  the  tenour  of  the  Command. 

Profaneness  is  one  of  the  eight  great  crimes,  which  God  thought 
proper  to  make  the  express  subjects  of  prohibition  in  the  Deca- 
lo^e.     In  the  order,  in  which  he  was  pleased  to  speak,  and  to 
write,  them,  it  holds  the  third  place.     All  the  importance,  which 
this  wonderiul  Law  derived  from  being  uttered  by  the  voice,  and 
being  written  with  the  finger,  of  God ;  from  his  manifest  appear- 
ance in  this  lower  world;  and  from  the  awful  splendour,  and 
amazing  majesty,  with  which  he  appeared ;  this  precept,  eoually 
with  the  others,  challenges  to  itself.     In  addition  to  these  tnings, 
it  Ls  the  only  precept  in  the  whole  number,  which  annexes  an  ex- 
press threatening  to  the  crime,  which  is  prohibited.   From  all  these 
circumstances  it  is  abundantly  evident,  that  the  Guilt  of  this  sin  is 
of  no  common  dye  in  the  sight  of  Jehovah.    All  these  circumstan- 
s  were  intended  to  be  significant,  and  are  obviously  significant) 

a  manner  pre-eminently  solemn  and  affecting.  How  should  we 
ourselves  feel,  if  the  Creator  of  the  Universe  were  to  inform  us  by 
the  mouth  of  an  acknowledged  prophet,  that  he  would  appear  in 
tiiis  work!  on  an  appointed  aay,  to  publish  his  awful  pleasure  to 
najakind !  With  what  anxious,  tremoling  expectation  should  we 
nait  for  the  destined  period!  With  what  solemnitjr  and  apprehen- 
9im  should  we  behola  the  day  dawn !  With  what  silent  awe  should 
W  see  the  cloudy  chariot  descend ;  and  hear  the  Archangel  pro- 

«U  the  approach  of  his  Maker !  How  should  we  shudder  at  the 
Id  of  the  trumpet,  and  the  quaking  of  the  earth !  Would  not 
%£arts  die  within  utf,  when  the  thunders  began  to  roll;  the  light- 
Vngs  to  blaze ;  and  the  flames  of  devouring  fire  to  rise  up  to  the 
tMvefis?  la  the  midst  of  these  tremendous  scenes,  irilb  what  sip 


•^- 


*  •    1 


/ 


200  Ttffi  GUILT  [SER.  aa 

lent,  dearh-like  amazemfent  should  we  listen,  to  hear  the  voure  of 
the  Almighty !  Would  it  not  seem  wonderful ;  would  it  not  ippear 
delirious;  for  any  man  to  call  in  question'the  authority  of  his  com- 
mands, or  the  absolute  rectitude  of  his  pleasure  ;  to  refuse  the  du- 
ties, which  he  enjoinedy^^r  to  perpetrate  the  crimes,  which  he  for- 
ixade?  Who,  after  hearing  from  the  mouth  of  God  the  awful  pro- 
hibition. Thou  shall  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy  God  in  vain  ; 
and  the  fearfuj  threatening,  annexed  to  it, /or  the  Lord  will  not  hold 
him  guiltless^  who  taketh  his  name  in  vain^  would  not  quake  with 
terror  at  the  very  thought  of  committing  a  srn,  thus  alarmingtjr 
forbidden  ?  Who  would  demand  an  argument  to  convince  him,  that 
such  a  sin  was  eminently  evil  in  the  sight  of  his  Maker? 

2dly.  TTiis  sin  is  cm  Immediate  Attack  on  God  himself ^  and  it, 
therefore^  peculiarly  guilty  * 

The  hostilities  of  man^ild  against  any  Intelligent  being  may  be 
carried  on  mediately^  or  immediately:  Mediately^  against  bis  prop- 
eriy^  if  he  be  a  human  being,  or  against  his  other  external  interests : 
*  'jmrnediately^  against  his  character^  and  person.  In  the  same  man- 
.  ifirirc  may  attack  our  Maker  by  attacking  our  fellow-creatures; 
atid  violatmg  such  commands  of  his,  as  regulate  our  duties  to 
them;  appropriately,  and  usually,  styled  the  duties  of  Moratitv, 
Or  we  may  attack  him,  immediately,  by  violating  those  commanos 
which  respect  his  person  and  character,  and  enjoin  the  various  du- 
ties of  piety.  All  the  transgressions,  which  I  have  recited,  arc 
directed  against  objects,  confessedly  belonging  to  God,  and  known 
to  be  hisy  in  immediate  possession :  his  r^ames,  his  Titles,  his 
Works,  his  Word,  and  his  Institutions.  As  Ai5  only,  do  they  be- 
come the  objects  of  irreverence  at  all.  In  all  these  cases,  there- 
fore, as  here  described,  we  attack  God  in  the  most  direct  manner, 
which  is  in  our  power.  A  king  or  a  parent,  may  be  insuUed  by  an 
affront,  offered  immediately  to  his  officer ;  his  messenger ;  or  any 
other,  acting  under  his  authority.  No  person  will  deny  the  affront, 
here,  to  be  real ;  nor,  as  the  case  may  be,  to  be  very  serious. 
Still  it  was  probably  never  questioned,  that,  when  this  same  afiiront 
.  was  offered  directly  to  the  parent,  or  the  king,  himself,  it  became 
fikrmore  gross;  an  insult  of  greater  magnitude,  and  greater  guilt 
Accordingly,  such  affronts  have  been  always  more  seriously  re* 
sented,  ana  more  severely  punished. 

In  all  the  cases,  mentioned  in  the  preceding  discourse,  God  is 
necessarily,  and  most  solemnly,  present  to  the  mind  of  man. 
Whatever  impiety,  therefore,  whatever  irreverence,  whatever  pro- 
ianeness,  is  exhibited  in  these  cases,  is  directed  immediately  against 
him  ;  against  his  character ;  against  his  person.  He,  who  is  the 
subject  of  it,  stretcheth  out  his  hand  against  God;  and  strengthmh 
eth  himself  against  th^  Almighty.  He  runneth  on  him,  even  on  kk 
neck  /  upon  the  thick  bosses  of  h%s  buckler.  How  can  the  man  who 
is  summoned  to  take  a  solemn  oath,  who  is  employed  in  the  em- 
ineotly  solemn  duty  of  prayer,  or  in  the  pre-eminently  solemn  duty 


*• 


.]  OF  FBOTAMMESS.  fff^ 

of  dedicating  himself  to  God  in  the  covenant  of  peace^  foil  to  have 
a  livdjr  and  affecting  sense  of  the  presence  of  his  Mak^r  ?  How 
ean  he  fail  to  realize,  that  all  the  levity,  thoughtlessness,  insinceri- 
ty, and  irreverence,  of  which  he  is  guilty,  is  levelled  direcdy 
against  God?  Who  else  is,  who  else  ean  be,  the  object  of  this 
conduct?  Who  else  is  concerned  with  it?  Whose  name  is  here 
mocked?  Whose  institutions  ere  set  at  nought?  If  the  criminal 
be  weak  enough  to  suspect  that  he  is  not,  in  this  case,  trifling  with 
his  Maker ;  and  wickecfly  profaning  his  glorious  name ;  he  is  prob- 
ably the  onl V  being  in  the  universe,  sufficiently  bewildered  to  adopt 
this  unsouna  and  unhappy  opinion. 

What  is  true  of  these  acts  of  worship,  is  true  with  Utile  variation 
of  every  other* 

In  that  light-minded  use  of  the  names  and  titles  of  God,  which 
is  appropriately  called  profeneness,  tte  circumatances  are,  I  ac- 
knowledge, in  some  respects  materially  different*  It  seems  won- 
derful indeed,  that,  whenever  the  name  of  God  is  mentioned,  any 
mind  should  not  be  filled  with  awe,  and  afiectinely  realize  the  funef- 
ence  of  this  majestic  Being.  The  Jews  would  not  pronounce  the 
incommunicable  name  Jehovah  except  in  one  peculiarly  solemn 
act  of  religious  worship.    Such  of  the  Mohammtdansj  as  cannot 


chat  multitudes,  and,  probably,  that  most  or  all  those,  who  are  ha- 
bitually profane,  use  this  glorious  and  fearful  name  without  even  a 
thought  that  God  is  present  to  hear  them* 

In  his  own  proper  character  of  the  glorious  and  eifmtti  Jshavakj 
mho  haih  prepared  his  throne  m  the  heavens j  and  whose  kingdom  nd' 
eii  over  all^  it  is  impossible  to  regard  him  with  serious,  or  wich  even 
•ober  thought,  and  not  be  filled  with  profound  and  reverential  awe* 
It  is  impossible  to  realize  who,  and  what,  and  where  Hn  is,  and  not 
be  filled  with  fear  and  trembling.  He  called  into  being  the  heav- 
ens and  the  earth ;  upholds  them  hy  the  word  of  his  power  ;  mles 
them  widi  an  irresistible  hand ;  gives  life,  and  death,  to  whomsoar- 
er  he  pleases ;  is  present  wherever  we  are ;  looks  with  an  intuttlfe 
eervey  into  the  secret  chambers  of  the  soul  $  records  all  our 
thoughts,  words,  and  actions,  in  the  book  of  his  remembrance ; 
and  will  brine  them  before  our  eyes  at  the  final  day*  On  his 
bounty  and  forbearance  we  live*  When  he  sives,  we  receive* 
•When  he  withholds,  we  die.  His  smile  makes  heaven  s  his  frown 
creates  hell.  Those,  who  fear,  and  love,  and  serve  him,  he  wiU 
bless :  those,  who  rebel  aeainst  him,  he  will  destnqr*  Who  then} 
■ttless  lost  to  sense  and  decency,  will  not  tremble  eU  his  presen/oej 
and  lie  low  in  the  dust  before  him? 

But  in  this  deplorable  trans^ssion,  the  profane  swearer  brin|S 
God  into  his  thoughts,  (if  he  think  at  all)  ana  into  his  conversation* 
with  a  character  altogether  familiar,  and  with  copakieratjons,  Ma 

Vol.  III.  26 


2Qg  THE  GUILT  PSB.  Cllt 

'news,  of  the  most  debasing  vulgarity.  The  same  man,  when  in 
the  presence  of  his  fellow-men,  acknowledged  by  him  to  be  of  re- 
spectable characters,  would  set  a  guard  on  his  conduct ;  particu- 
larly on  his  tongue ;  and  would  speak  of  them,  and  to  them^  and 
before  them,  wiSi  sobriety,  care,  and  decorum ;  and  would  watch- 
fully give  them  every  reasonable  proof,  that  he  regarded  them,  only 
with  respect.  From  this  decency  in  civilized  li£,  a  departure  can 
scarcely  be  found;  unless  under  the  influence  of  strong  passion,  or 
pressing  interest. 

Surely  the  Creator  of  all  things  has  as  powerfiil  claims  to.  vener- 
ation, as  the  worm,  which  he  has  made.  But  notwithstanding  his 
glorious  and  awful  character,  notwithstanding  we  know  that  he  is 
present  to  all  our  conduct ;  notwithstanding  we  know  that  he  hears 
whatever  we  say,  and  sees  whatever  we  think,  or  do ;  we  make 
this  great  and  terrible  Seine  the  subject  of  the  most  irreverential, 
impudent  thoughts,  and  of  ue  most  vulgar,  affrontive,  contemptu- 
ous language.  Nay,  all  this  is  done  by  the  profane  person,  for  no 
purpose,  but  to  affiront  and  insult  him ;  and  to  induce  others  to  at 
front  and  insult  him  also. 

All  this  is  done,  not  once,  twice,  or  in  a  few  solitary  instances 
only ;  not  in  the  season  of  forgetiulness,  the  unguarded  hour  of 

Sassion,  or  the  moment  of  pecuDar  temptation,  merely ;  but  eveiy 
ay,  in  every  place,  and  on  every  familiar  occasion.  In  thi$  man- 
ner, God  is  hahituallv  brought  up  to  view,  and  continuailjf  insuhed. 
Thus  familiarized,  thus  habituated,  to  such  thoughts,  and  to  such 
language,  the  profane  person  soon  becomes  unable  to  -think,  or 
speak  concerning  his  Maker  in  any  other  manner.  All  his  thoughts 
concerning  him  oecome  a  regular  course  of  irreverence  :  ana  all 
his  language,  a  tissue  of  impudence  and  insult.  God,  the  grea 
and  terrible  God,  m  whose  hand  his  breath  is  ;  in  whom  he  lives  and 
movesj  and  has  his  bein^ ;  the  God,  by  whom  he  is  soon  to  be 
judged,  and  rewarded  with  endless  life,  or  endless  death;  becomes 
speedily,  to  him,  a  mere  object  of  vulgar  abuse  and  gross  derision. 
With  what  views  must  this  awful  Being  regard  the  miserable 
wretch,  who  thus  degrades  his  character !  Wnat  must  be  the  ap- 
pearance of  this  wretch  at  the  final  day ! 

From  God,  the  source,  and  substance,  of  every  thing  sacred, 
the  transition  to  all  other  sacred  things  is  easy ;  and,  in  a  sense, 

'-  instinctive.  From  him  Religion  derives  its  existence,  its  obligation, 
its  power,  its  hopes,  and  its  rewards.  Separated  from  him,  there 
can  be  no  piety.  Separated  from  him,  there  can  be  no  morality. 
Who  does  not  see,  that  without  God  there  could  be  no  Bible,  no 
Sabbath,  no  worship,  no  holiness,  and  no  heaven.    He,  therefcMre, 

*  who  is  accustomed  to  profane  the  name  of  God,  cuts  off*  his  con- 
nexion with  all  things  serious  and  sacred.  But  nothing  else  is, 
comparatively,  of  any  use  to  man.  Whatever  is  gay  and  amusing, 
and  at  the  same  time  innocent,  and  in  some  sense  useful,  is  useful 

'.only  to  refresh  the  mind  for  a  more  vigorous  application  to  things 


•l  • 


SEiL  cm.]  OF  FROFANENESS.  SQS 

of  a  serious  and  sacred  nature.  In  these,  lie  all  the  real  and 
substantial  interests  of  man ;  the  foundation  of  a  virtuous,  useful, 
and  happy  life,  and  a  glorious  immortality.  To  lose  our  con« 
nexion  with  them,  therefore,  is  to  lose  our  all.  Of  course,  the 
profane  person  voluntarily  squanders  the  blessines  of  time  and 
eternity ;  and  with  a  portentous  prodigality  makes  tumself /)oor,  ami 
wretchedj  and  miserable  ;  a  nuisance  to  the  world,  and  an  outcast 
from  heaven. 

3dly.  Profaneness  15,  in  most  instances^  a  violation  of  peculiarly 
eUar^  and  peculiarly  solemn^  inducements  to  our  duiy. 

I  have  already  remarked,  under  the  preceding  head,  that,  in 
many  of  the  cases,  specified  in  the  former  discourse,  it  is  impossi- 
ble that  the  presence  and  character  of  God  should  not  be  realized 
by  the  profane  person.  But  the  character  and  presence  of  God, 
onited,  present  to  every  mind,  not  wholly  destitute  of  sobriety,  a 
combination  of  the  most  solemn  and  powerful  motives  to  the  per- 
formance of  its  duty.  The  Being,  by  whom  we  were  created, 
and  on  whom  we  depend  for  life,  together  with  all  its  blessings 
and  hopes,  who  will  bring  every  workj  with  every  secret  thing j  inio 
jmdgmeni^  and  who  will  reward  every  man  according  to  the  deeds^ 
don€  m  the  body^  with  a  retribution  final  and  endless,  is  an  object 
so  a wfiil,  so  interesting,  so  overwhelming,  that  one  would  naturally 
think  no  sacrifice  too  great,  no  duty  too  difficult  or  discouraging,  if 
tbeperformance  would  secure  his  favour.  ^ 

To  the  considerations  which  have  been  here  mentioned,  others 
of  singular  importance  are  always  to  be  added,  when  we  are  ex- 
amining almost  ail  the  cases  of  profaneness,  specified  in  the  pre- 
ceding discourse.     In  the  Word  and  Institutions  of  Gody  and  in  all 
file  Religious  services^  rendered  to  hhn  according  to  the  dictates  of 
the  Gospelj  he  is  presented  to  us  as  the  Father,  the  Redeemer,  and 
the  Sanctifier,  of  mankind,  in  the  most  endearing  and  venerable  of 
all  offices,  the  offices  of  accomplishing  an  expiation  for  sin,  re- 
newing the  soul,   pardoning  its  transgressions,  and  entiding  it 
again  to  the  blessings  of  infinite  love.     These  blessings,  literally 
iuBite,  flowing  only  from  the  sovereign  and  boundless  mercy  of 
JehovaJi,  are  profiered  to  a  mind  apostatized,  rebellious,  and  ruin- 
ed ;  a  mind  incapable  of  renewing  itself,  and,  therefore,  if  left  to 
itself,  hopeless  of  the  divine  favour ;  and  an  outcast  fix>m  the  vir- 
tuous  and  happy  universe.      In  such  a  situation,  how  deeply 
should  we  naturally  suppose  it  must  be  afiected  with  a  sense  of  the 
infinite  goodness,  engaged  so  wonderfully  in  its  behalf;  by  the 
^orious  blessings,  proffered   to  its  acceptance ;  and  by  its  own 
infinite  need  of  a  share  in  these  blessings.     If  it  will  not  be  in- 
Saenced  by  the  presence  of  Jehovah,  appearing  in  these  amiable 
iiid  wonderful  characters ;  if  it  will  not  be  moved  by  the  proffer 
of  these  invaluable  and  immortal  blessings;  what  inducements  can 
persuade  it  to  perform  its  duty  ?    If  the  pleasure  of  such  a  God, 
if  the  attainment  of  such  a  salvation,  will  not  lay  hold  on  the  heart; 


HQf  THB  GUILT  JVMR,  ORL 

wliere  shall  we  look  for  motires  g[  sufiicieBt  weight  to  engage  its 
obedience  ? 

But  the  fHTofane  person  4klJes  not  merely  disobey  }  as  we  com* 
gsdnly  understand  this  term :  He  disobeys  in  the  most  provokiing 
marmer.  He  treats  his  lAaker  as  the  Jews  treated  Christ;  Thej 
did  not  merely  reject  this  divine  Saviour.  lliey  did  not  merely 
dHMcify.lmB.  They  rejected  him  with  scorn:  they  crucified  htm 
with  inftdt  Thorns  they  ^ave  him  for  a  crown  ;  and  a  reed  for  a 
tceptnu  '/*The  respect,  which  they  professedly  paid  him,  was  con- 
tempt :  and  A||  homage,  mockery*  Such,  for  substance,  is  the 
manner  in  wmch  tfie  profane  person  treats  his  God.  With  all 
the  solemn  hkluceiiients,  which  have  been  mentioned,  before 
his  eyes,  he  not  ofily  rejects  this  glorious  Being,  and  his  be- 
nevolent offers  of  eternal  life  to  perishing  sinners;  but  accom- 
panies his  rejection  with  irreverence,  despite,  aiid  insolence ;  and 
cries,  Who  is  the  Almighty,  that  I  should  senre  him  ?  If  the 
vMijfs  of  God  were  not  higher  than  our  ways^  as  the  heavens  are 
higher  than  the  earth;  what  would  become  of  thif  audacious, 
BHserable  being? 

4thly.  Profaneness  is  a  sin^  to  whieh  there  is  scarcely  cnty  lemp- 
Mton. 

In  the  commission  of  most  sins,  mankind  usually  ez|p^t,  and 
believe,  they  shall  obtain  some  natural  good :  and  this  is  almost 
always  the  prime  object  ofc  their  sinful  pursuit :  good,  forbidden, 
indeed,  and  therefore  unlawful ;  yet  stiU  really  good  in  the  appre- 
hension of  the  sinner.  Thus  persons  commonly  lie,  and  cheats  for 
the  sake  of  some  gain ;  become  intoxicated,  on  account  of  the 
l^easure  experienced  in  the  use  of  strong  drink ;.  are  gluttons,  to 
6moy  the  delightful  taste  of  dainty  food:  and  thus  in  almost  sH 
Otner  cases  of  transgression. 

Bi;t  in  [profaneness  there  seems  to  be  no  good,  eithe|E*enjoyed, 
or  expected,  beside  that,  which  is  found  in  the  mere  love,  ahcf  in* 
dulgence  of  sin.  No  person  ever  acquired  propert]%  heslth,  repu* 
tation,  place,  power,  nor,  it  wouM  seem,  pleasure,  firom  pro&ne- 
ness.  Those  particular  movements  of  the  tongue,  which  articulate 
profaneness,  produce,  so  far  as  I  am  able  to  conjecture,  no  more 
agreeable  sensations,  than  any  other*  The  words,  which  embody 
profane  thoughts,  are  neither  smoother,  nor  sweeter,  than  any 
other  words.  If,  then,  profaneness  were  not  sinful ;  i^ch  worn 
would  be  pronounced  no  oftener  than  any  other.  The  pleasure^ 
found  in  profaneness,  such  as  it  is,  is  therefore  found,  chiefly  if  not 
wholly,  in  the  wickedness,  which  it  involves,  and  expresses.  The 
sin  is  the  good ;  and  not  any  thing  peculiar  to  the  manner,  fai 
which  it  is  committed ;  nor  any  thing,  which  the  profeneness  is  ex- 
pected to  be  the  means  of  acquiring.  It  may  be  said,,  that  the  pro^ 
rane  person  recommends  himself  to  his  companions  ;  person^ 
with  whom  he  is  pleased,  and  whom  he  wishes  to  please ;  and 
that)  at  the  same  time,  he  secures  himself  from  their  contempt  and 


8ER.  cm.]  OF  FEOFAI^ENESS.  205 

ridicule  ;  to  which  otherwise  he  would  be  exposed.     This,  with  • 
out  doubt,  is  partially  true  ;  and  comes  nearer  than  any  thing  else, 
which  can  be  allegea,  to  a  seeming  fteception  to  the  justice  of  the 
remark  under  consideration.   Yet  it  is  hamly  a  seeming  exception. 
Nothing  but  the  wickedness  of  this  conduct^  recommends  the  pro-' 
&ne  person  to  his  companions :  and  those,  to  whom  he  is  recom 
mended,  are  sinners  only.   But  for  the  love  of  ^wickednef s  in  /Aef^ 
he  could  not  become  agreeable  to  them  by  this  evil  prac(|d|f :  a^d^ 
but  for  the  love  of  wickedness  in  Airr?,  he  could  not  wist^lSve  thus 
agreeable.     Can  it  then  be  good ;  can  it  be  g^tkti  will  it  be 
alleged  to  be  gain  ;  to  recommend  ourselves  t^  stntikrs  by  the  per- 
petration of  sin  ?  Is  »ot  the  end,  which  wc^propose ;  are  not  the 
means,  which  we  use ;  altogether  disgrtitcelul  both  to  ourselves 
and  them?  Instead. of  being  beneficiap  to  either,  are  they  not  the 
means  of  corruption,  and  ruin,  to  both  ?  Is  the  favour  of  men,  who 
love  sin  ;  and  so  ardently  love  it,  as  to  love  us  merely  for  sinning ; 
desirable,  or  useful,  to  us  ?  Is  it  worth  our  labour?  Does  it  deserve 
our  wishes !.  Can  it  prove  a  balance  for  the  guilt,  which  we  incur  ? 
Can  it  be  of  any  value  to  us,  although  in  desiring  and  obtaining 
It  we  were  to  incur  no  guilt  ? 

But  the  profane  pereon  is  not  esteemed^  even  by  his  sinful  com- 
panioni*  They  may  desire  him  as  an  associate ;  and  they  may 
relish  his  wickedness  ;  but  they  approve  of  neither.  Such  per- 
sons have  repeatedly  declared  to  m^ihat  they  approved  neither 
of  themselves,  nor  others,  when  cuilty  of  this  sin  ;  but  regarded 
it  as  a  stain  upon  the  character  of  both.  The  companions  of  such 
a  man  may  be  pleased  with  him^  and  his  wickedness  ;  because  both 
may  contribute  to  keep  them  in  countenance  ;  or  make  them  di- 
version. They  may  wish  to  see  him  af^  bad,  or  worse,  than  them- 
selves ;  that  the  deep  hues  of  their  own  guilt  may  fade  at  his  side. 
Still,  thlPy  will  make  him,  when  he  is  not  present,  an  object  of 
their  contempt  and  derisfon.  In  the  same  manner,  men  Kne  trea- 
son, and  ti'eachcry ;  and  in  this  manner,  also,  despise  the  ti-^itor. 
If  the  profane  person  will  take  pains  to  learn  the  real  opinion  of 
his  companions;  he  will  find,  that  they  invariably  condemn  his 
character  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  hold  it  in  contempt. 
In  the  mean  time,  he  exposes  himself  uniformly  to  the  abhorrence 
of  virtuous,  and  eveti  of  sober,  men.  Of  this  no  proof  is  neces- 
sary. The  experience  of  every  day  informs  us,  that  proliuie  per- 
sons are  a  kind  of  Helots  in  society :  men,  whom  youth  \\vv  ad- 
monished to  dread,  and  avoid:  men,  pointed  out  to  children  as 
warnings  against  iniquity  ;  branded  as  nuisances  to  so(  kiv  ;  and 
marked  as  blots  upon  the  creation  of  God. 

Virtue  is  acknowledged  to  be  distinguished,  and  exec  I  lent,  in 
some  general  proportion,  at  least,  to  the  disinter  est  td  ma  s^  with 
which  it  :s  exercised.  Sin,  committed  without  moti\  rs  of  such 
magnitncJe  as  to  be  properly  styled  temptations,  m:i\  ^>e  justly 
tewnerl  flisinltrested  sin:  sin,  committed  only  from  tlu    !<Af  ol'siUi 


■  >    ■  V 


30e  THE  GUILT.  *  [SER.  COL 

and  not  with  a  view  to  any  natural  good,  in  which  it  is  to  terminate. 
This  must  undoubtedly  be  acknowledged  to  be  wickedness  of  a 
dye  peculiarly  deep,  of  a  nature  eminently  guilty ;  and  the  author 
of  it  must,  with  as  little  doubt,  be  eminently  vile,  odious,  and 
abominable,  in  the  sight  of  God. 

5thly.  Profaneness  is  among  the  most  distinguished  means  ofcor* 
rupting  our  fellow-men. 

TUs  observation  I  intend  to  apply  exclusively  to  the  profane- 
ness of  the  tongue.  It  is  indeed  applicable,  with  much  lorce,  to 
profaneness,  manifested  in  various  kinds  of  action ;  but  it  is  pe- 
culiarly applicable  to  the  kind  of  profaneness,  which  I  have  par- 
ticularly specified* 

Sins  of  the  tongue  are  all  social  sins ;  necessarily  social,  and 
eminently  social.  They  are  practised,  only  where  men  are  pre- 
sent to  hear,  and  to  witness ;  and  they  are  practised,  wherever 
men  are  prtient  to  hear.  Thus  a  man  is  profane  before  his  fami- 
ly ;  swears,  and  curses,  and  ridicules  sacred  things,  in  the  social 
club ;  in  the  street ;  before  his  neighbours  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  a 
multitude.  Persons  of  all  ages  become  witnesses,  and  learners. 
Thus  children  learn  to  Usp  the  curse  ;  and  the  grey-haired  sinner, 
to  mutter  the  faltering  oath. 

No  man  was  ever  profane  alone  ;  in  a  wilderness,  or  in  his 
closet.  To  the  very  natm'e  of  this  sin,  the  presence  of  others 
seems  so  indispensable,  that  we  cannot  realize  the  commission  of 
it  by  any  man,  unless  in  the  midst  of  society.  All  the  mischief  of 
evil  example  is  found  in  the  social  nature  of  man  ;  and  in  the  so- 
cial nature  of  those  sins,  to  which  the  whole  power  of  evil  exam- 
ple is  confined.  Where  sin  is  in  its  nature  solitary,  and  the  per- 
petration of  course  insulated  ;  whatever  other  guilt  it  may  involve, 
the  sinner  plainly  cannot  be  charged  with  the  guilt  of  corruptiDg 
others.  In  order  to  follow  us  in  wickedness,  others  must  know, 
that  we  are  wicked.  When  they  hear  of  our  wickedness  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  they  are  always,  perhaps,  in  greater  or  less  danger  of  be- 
ing corrupted ;  because  sympathy  is  always  a  powerful  propensi- 
ty of  the  mind,  and  because  we  nave  always  a  strong  tendency  to 
imitation.  But  when  they  are  present  to  see  sin  in  our  actions, 
and  to  hear  it  from  our  tongues  ;  it  becomes  the  means  of  the  most 
certain  and  efficacious  corruption ;  because  then  the  impression  is 
ordinarily  the  strongest  possible. 

There  is,  however,  one  case,  in  which  this  corruption,  though 
usually  less  efficacious  in  particular  instances,  is  yet  much  more 
dreadfully  operative,  because  it  is  much  more  extensively  difiTused. 
An  author,  when  possessed  of  sufficient  ingenuity,  can  spread  this 
malignant  influence  wherever  his  writings  can  penetrate  ;  and  ex- 
panof  the  force  of  an  evil  example  over  many  countries,  and  through 
a  long  succession  of  ages.  Millions  of  the  human  race  may  owe 
to  such  a  man  the  commencement,  and  progress,  of  iniquity  in 
their  minds ;  and  may  imbibe  pernicious  sentiments,  which,  but 


t' 


*. 


SER.  cm.]  '       OF  PROFANENESS  §07 

for  him,  they  would  have  never  known,  or  would  have  regarded 
only  with  abhorrence.  In  this  respect,  what  will  Infidels,  especi- 
ally those  of  distinguished  talents,  nave  to  answer  for  at  the  $nul 
day? 

but  this  evil  mav  be  very  widely  diffused  without  the  aid  of  the 
press,  or  the  circulation  of  volumes.  The  tongue  is  an  instrument 
more  than  sufficiently  adapted  to  this  unhappy  end.  One  profane 
person  makes  multitudes ;  corrupts  his  professed  fnends,  ms  daily 
companions,  his  near  relations,  and  all  with  whom  he  corresponds, 
$o  far  as  they  are  capable  of  being  corrupted.  They  again  corrupt 
others :  and  thev,  in  their  turn,  spread  tne  contagion  mrough  suc- 
cessive circles  oi  mankind,  increasing  continually  m  their  numbers, 
ind  their  expansion.  Thus  a  profane  inhabitant  of  this  land  may 
extend  the  mischiefs  of  his  evil  example  to  other  countries,  and  to 
future  ages :  and  a  profane  student  of  this  seminary,  may,  and 
probably  will,  be  the  cause  of  handing  down  profanenftss  to  stu- 
dents yet  unborn. 

The  mischiefs  of  evil  example  are  always  great:  in  the  present 
case  they  are  dreadful.  The  tongue  is  obviously  the  prime  instru- 
nent  of  human  corruption;  of  diffusing,  and  perpetuating  sin ;  of 
preventing  the  eternal  life  of  our  fellow-men ;  of  extending  perdi- 
tion over  the  earth ;  and  of  populating  the  world  of  misery..  Be- 
hold^  saith  Si.  Jamts^  hovj  great  a  matter  (in  the  original,  how  great 
B  forest)  a  little  fire  kindltth  !  Small  at  first  to  the  eye,  it  catches 
au  the  combustible  materials  within  its  reach,  and  spreading  its 
ravages  wider  and  wider,  consumes,  in  the  end,  every  thing  before 
it  with  an  universal  conflagration.  Among  all  the  evil  examples, 
which  I  have  heard  mentioned,  or  which  have  been  alluded  to  with- 
in my  knowledge,  I  do  not  remember,  that  a  dumb  man  was  ever 
named  as  one.  No  person,  within  my  recollection,  ever  attributed 
hb  own  sins  to  the  example  of  such  a  man.  Speaking  men  are  the 
corrupters  of  their  fellow-men :  and  they  corrupt,  pre-eminently, 
by  their  speech.  No  individual  ever  began  to  swear  profanely  by 
himself:  and  few,  very  few,  ever  commenced  the  practice,  but 
from  imitation.  Like  certain  diseases  of  the  human  body,  pro- 
bneness  descends  from  person  to  person ;  and,  like  the  plague,  is 
regularly  caught  by  infection.  Let  every  profane  person,  then, 
solemnly  remember  how  much  evil  will  be  charged  to  him  in  the 
great  day  of  account :  how  many  miserable  wretches  will  date 
meir  peculiar  sinfulness  of  character,  and  a  vast  multitude  of  their 
actual  transgressions,  from  the  power  of  his  example :  how  many 
of  his  fellow-creatures  he  will  contribute  to  plunge  into  eternal 
perdition :  and  how  dreadfully,  as  well  as  justly,  all  these  may 
wreak  their  insatiable  vengeance  on  his  head,  for  producing  theur 
final  ruin :  while  he  will  oe  stripped  of  every  excuse ;  and  be 
forced  by  an  angry  conscience  to  say.  Amen.  Let  him  remem- 
ber, that  in  this  respect,  if  not  in  many  others,  he  is  a  pest  to  hu- 
man society,  and  a  smoke  in  the  nostrils  of  his  Maker*     Finally ; 


's 


303  '  THE  GUILT  [SEH.  CUL 

let  him  summon^this  character,  and  this  guilt,  before  his  eyes,  when- 
ever lie  repeats  his  profaneness,  with  a  full  conviction  that,  how- 
ever ne  may  flatter  himself,  all  around  him,  as  a  vast  and  upright 
1'ury,  sit  daily  on  the  trial  of  hi%,€rimes,  and  with  an  unanimous  and 
lonest  verdict  pronounce  him  guilty. 

6thly,  Profaneness  prevents^  or  destroys,  all  Reverence  towards 
God;  together  with  all  those  religious  exercises^  and  their  happy 
consequences,  of  which  it  is  the  source. 

In  the  discourse,  which  I  formerly  delivered  on  this  pre-eminent- 
ly important  religious  attribute,  I  showed  by  a  numerous  train  of 
Scriptural  passages,  that  it  is  pectdiarly  the  means  of  rendering  our 
worship  acceptable  to  God ;  of  exciting,  and  keeping  alive,  an  oi- 
horrence  of  sin ;  the  great  source  of  reformation-f  eminently  the 
source  of  rectitude  in  our  dispositions  and  conduct  towards  manxind; 
the  foundation  of  peculiar  blessings  in  the  present  world;  and  erni' 
nently  the  means  of  securing  eternal  life  in  the  world  to  come* 
,  These  blessings,  as  an  aggregate,  are  infinitely  necessary,  and  in 
finitely  valuable,  to  every  human  being.     To  prevent  them,  or  to 
destroy  them,  that  is,  to  prevent  ourselves,  or  others,  from  be- 
coming the  subjects  of  them,  is  an  evil,  to  which  no  limits  can  be 
assigned.     But  this  dreadful  vcrk  is  efiectually  accomplished  by 
proianeness.     Profaneness  ii-  !•*  is  nothing  but  a  high  degree  of 
irreverence  to  Go  J.     But  no  worJs  are  necessary  to  prove,  that 
reverence  and  irreverence  cannot  exist  together  in  the  same  mind; 
or  that,  where  reverence  does  not  exidt,  its  happy  efiects  cannot 
be  found. 

It  is  plainly  impossible,  that  he,  who  indulges  a  spirit  of  pro- 
faneness, should  ever  worship  God  in  an  acceptable  manner.  This 
spirit,  once  indulged,  soon  becomes  habitual ;  and  will  be  present, 
and  predominate,  at  all  times,  and  on  all  occasions.  It  will  ac- 
company him  to  the  house  of  God ;  and,  if  we  co|]ld  suppose  such 
a  man  to  attend  private  or  secret  devotion,  would  mmgle  itself 
with  his  family  prayers,  and,  entering  with  him  into  his  closet, 
would  there  insult  his  Maker  to  his  faceJ^  But  the  truth  is ;  he  will 
neither  pray  in  his  family,  nor  in  his  closet.  These  exercises  of 
piety  he  will  only  ridicule ;  and  regard  those,  who  scrupulously 
pertorm  them,  as  the  pitiful  slaves  of  fear,  voluntarily  shackled  by 
the  chains  of  superstition.  To  the  sanctuary,  he  may,  at  times, 
go,  firom  curiosity,  a  regard  to  reputation,  and  a  remaining 
sense  of  decency.  There,  however,  all  his  seeming  devotion  wifl 
be  merely  external ;  an  offering  of  the  blind  and  the  lame  ;  a  sac* 
rifice  of  swine'* s  flesh  ;  an  abomination  which  God  cannot  away  with  ; 
a  dead  form,  a  corpse  without  a  soul ;  without  Ufe ;  corrupted ; 
putrid ;  sending  forth  a  savour  qf  death  unto  death. 

Instead  of  exciting,  and  keeping  aUve,  an  abhorrence  of  sin  i 
his  mind,  the  profane  person,  by  the  very  irreverence  which  h 
cherishes,  excites,  ana  keeps  ahve   all  ms  other  tendencies  t 


W  4 


SKR.  COL]  OF  FROFANENESa  ^  S09 

iDiquity.  God,  the  only  object  of  obedience,  imperfectly  obeyed 
by  the  best  mind  which  ever  inhabited  this  sinful  world,- soon  be- 
comes Co  him  by  this  very  disposition  familiar,  insignificaai  and 
despised.  Who  would  obey  a  Bttng,  regarded  in  this  manner  ? 
What  anxiety  can  be  occasioned  jf^  the  thought  of  disobeying 
him  ?  Who  can  be  solicitous  concerning  the  evil  of  sin,  when 
luch  is  in  his  view  the  object,  aeainst  which  sin  is  to  be  commit- 
ted ?  Which  of  us  could  be  at  all  apprehensive  of  either  the  guilt, 
or  the  danger,  of  sinning  against  a  Being,  whom  we  regarded  only 
with  contempt. 

The  reformation  of  a  profane  person  is  out  of  the  question. 
His  progress  is  only  downward.  Profaneness  is  the  mere  flood- 
gate of  miquity ;  and  the  stream,  once  let  out,  flows  with  a  cur- 
rent, daily  becoming  more  and  more  rapid  and  powerful.  There 
is  no  crime,  to  which  profaneness  does  not  lend  efficacious  and 
malignant  aid.  It  is  the  very  nurse  of  sin ;  the  foster  parent  of 
rebellion,  ingratitude,  and  impiety. 

Tilt  unjust  judge^  who  f  tared  not  God^  regarded  not  man*  Such> 
will  be  the  conduct,  whenever  temptation  invites,  of  all  who  do 
not  fear  God.  Persons  of  this  description  may,  I  acknowledge, 
liave,  originally,  the  same  natural  affections  with  other  men.  out 
even  these,  so  far  as  they  are  of  any  real  use  to  others,  will,  if  I 
bave  observed  the  conduct  of  mankind  with  success,  be  gradually 
worn  away  by  the  spirit  of  irreverence  ;  and,  while  they  last,  will 
&il  of  producing  their  most  proper  and  valuable  effects.  A  pro* 
frne  person  cannot  long  pray  with  his  family.  He  cannot  teach 
his  children  their  duty.  He  cannot  reprove  them  for  sin.  He 
cannot  set  them  an  example  of  piety.  He  cannot  exhort  them  to 
seek  salvation.  He  cannot  take  them  by  the  hand,  and  lead  them 
to   heaven. 

What  blessbgs  can  he  expect  from  the  hand  of  God  in  th^^ 
present  world  f    He  may,  indeed,  be  rich.     Oft,  says  the  poet, 

^  Oft  on  the  vileft,  riches  are  bestowed, 

To  show  their  meanness  in  the  sight  of  Ood." 

Should  he  be  rich  ;  his  wealth  will  be  a  curse,  and  not  a  ^bless- 
bg ;  the  means,  merely,  of  increasing  his  pride,  of  hardeni  ng  his 
heart,  and  of  inclining  him  to  treasure  up  wrath  against  the  day  o/* 
vra/A,  and  the  revelation  of  the  righteous  judgment  of  God.  He 
may  on  account  of  his  talents,  his  heroism,  or  some  othor  cause, 
be  held  in  estimation  amone  his  fellow-men.  But  whatever  repu- 
tation he  may  acquire  in  this  manner ;  this,  like  his  wibalth,  will 
prove  only  a  curse  to  him  :  for,  although  highly  esteemed  among 
men,  he  will  be  an  abomination  m  the  sight  of  God. 

Beyond  the  grave  he  can  expect,  and  can  receive,  nothing  but 
indignation  and  wrathj  tribulation  and  anguish^     His  profancnesa     ^ 

Vol.  III.  27 


SIO 


t 


THE  GUILT,  Im. 


[8I3LCSIL 


is  an  unceaslne  and  fearful  provocation  of  his  Maker,  and  a  terri- 
ble pceparatim  for  a  future  life  of  eternal  blasphemy.    All  the 
ruin  df  mturity,  and  all  the  guilt  and  wretchedness  of  tins  '**'  * 
voluntarily  brin^  upon  himself  by  the  indulgence  of  this 
senseless,  causeless  sin ;  and  thus  quietly,  and  coolly,  prop^Bi 
A  himself  to  be  destroyed  for  even    In  sinning  against  Goo,  m  dis 
*      manner,  he  eminently  wrongs  his  tmn  s<ml }  and /ove#,  invites,  and 
"^      solicits,  everlasting  death*  .  "^ . 


V. 


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SERMON  CIV. 


VbB    law   or   OOD. THE    DECALOGUE. THE   THIRD   C0IIIIAlf1>- 

M&NT. THE    DANGER   OF   PR0FANENES8. 


EzoDU9  XX.  7. — T/iou  *kaU  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lardf  thy  Ood,  in  ooIk;  for  (A| 
Lord  will  not  hold  himguiUUitf  thtU  takeihhiiuame  mi mimi. 

In  the  two  preceding  discourses,  I  considered,  at  lengthi 
lAe  Aa/tire,  and  the  Guilty  of  Profaneness.  I  shall  now  proceed, 
iccording  to  the  plan  originally  proposed,  to  examine  with  some 
ittention  the  Danger  oi  this  sin. 

All  sin  is  dangerous.  But  there  are  different  kinds,  and  de- 
j;recs,  of  danger  m  different  sins.  On  those,  which  especially  at* 
tend  this  sin,  or  which,  though  common  to  other  sinful  habits,  are 
connected  with  profaneness  in  a  remarkable  manner,  1  mean  to 
insist  in  the  following  discourse. 

,  1st*  Profaneness  is  eminently  the  Source  of  Corruption  to  the 
mhote  Character. 

That  there  is  an  intimate  connection  between  the  thoughts,  and 
the  tongue,  is  perfectly  well  known  to  all  men  of  consideration, 
rhc  nature  of  this  connection  is,  however,  misapprehended,  if  I 
mistake  not,  by  most  men.  AH  persons  perceive,  that  tneir 
thoughts  give  birth  to  their  words :  while  few  seem  to  be  aware, 
that  their  words,  to  a  vast  extent,  originate,  and  modify,  their 
thoughts.  Almost  all  moral  attributes,  and  employments,  operate 
mutually  as  causes  and  effects.  Thus  irreverence  of  thought  gen- 
erates profaneness  of  expression  ;  and  profaneness  of  expression, 
in  its  turn,  generates  and  enhances  irreverence  of  thoughts.  Thus, 
oniversally,  the  mind  moves  the  tongue ;  and  the  tongue,  again,  in 
its  turn,  moves  the  mind.  i      ' 

The  person,  who  speaks  evil,  will  always  think  eVil.  By  this  I 
do  not  mean,  that  evil  thoughts  must  predede  evil  speaking :  and 
that  the  man  must,  therefore,  have  been  the  subject  of  evil  thoughts, 
b  order  to  have  spoken  evil.  I  mean,  that  evil  speaking, Vthough 
an  eflect  of  evil  thoughts,  is,  in  its  turn,  a  cause  of  new,^and  other, 
evil  thoughts.  He,  who  thinks  ill,  will  undoubtedly  fp^&k,  and 
act,  ill.  This  all  men  readily  acknowledge.  It  is  e^ially  cer- 
tain, although  not  equally  well  understood,  that  evil  sjieech,  and 
evil  actions,  directly  corrupt  the  mind ;  and  render  it  more  sinful, 
than  it  would  ever  become,  if  it  were  not  to  speak,  amLacii  in  this 
manner. 


L.» 


4 


i  '^ 


912  I'HE  DANGER  [8ER.  Of. 

A  fijmiliar  example,  or  two,  will  advantageously  illustrate  this 
8ul)j  rt.  An  angry  man  becomes  at  once  more  violent  and  wrath- 
ful, when  he  begins  to  vent  his  passion  by  woi-ds.  What  before 
was  anger,  soon  becomes  fury.  Before,  he  was  able  to  retain  bis 
spir:  wiihin  some  bounds  of  decency  ;  but  as  soon  as  his  tongue 
is  let  ir>ose,  hi;)  countenance  will  be  distorted,  his  eyes  flash,  and 
his  sentiments  be  the  mere  effusions  of  frenzy.  A  revengeful 
man  kindles,  Lke  a  furnace,  from  the  moment,  in  which  he  be- 
gins to  execute  his  revenge.  What  before  was  the  revenge  of 
a  human  heart,  is  speedily  changed  into  the  fell  malignity  of  a 
fiend.  , 

Si.  Ja77i€5  has  exhibited  this  tendency  of  the  tongue  to  corrupt 
the  mind,  in  language  remarkable,  exact,  and  forcible.  He  styles 
it  an  unruly  member  ;  a  fire  ;  a  world  of  iniauity  ;  and  declares, 
dint  i7  defileth  the  whole  hody^  and  setteth  on  Jire  the  course  of  na- 
ture. Its  influence  on  the  mind  itself,  as  well  as  on  the  afiuirs  of 
mankind,  he  describes  in  this  strong  exclamation :  Behold^  how 
great  a  matter  a  Utile  fire  kindleth  I  That  the  eye  of  St.  James 
«'Sras  directed  to  the  profaneness  of  the  tongue  is  obvious  from  what 
he  says  in  the  two  succeeding  verses.  Therewith  bless  we  God; 
and  therewith  curse  we  men.  Out  of  the  same  mouth  proceedetk 
blessing  and  cursing.  Cursing,  one  dreadful  kind  of  profaneness, 
was,  according  to  his  own  account,  in  the  eye  of  the  Apostle,  a  kind 
of  profaneness,  mingled  always  with  every  other,  ana  inseparable 
from  every  other.  In  this  very  sense,  then,  the  tongue  is  full  of 
deadly  poison  ;  afire  that  kindles  the  whole  course  of  nature  j  in  the 
soul ;  and  defiles  the  whole  body,  and  the  whole  mind. 

Of  the  correctness  of  these  Apostolic  declarations,  experience 
furnishes  ample  proof.  Among  all  the  multitude  of  persons,  who 
have  borne  tne  cnaracter  of  profaneness,  not  one  was  ever  be- 
lieved, on  account  of  his  other  conduct,  by  any  competent  judge, 
acquainted  with  him,  to  be  a  virtuous  man.  Many  persons  have 
begun  to  be  profane  from  mere  inconsideration  ;  and,  at  the  com- 
menrvment  of  their  career,  were  no  more  depraved,  than  such  of 
their  companions  as  abstained  from  this  sin.  In  their  progress 
however,  they  became  corrupted  much  more,  extensively  withm  tfat 
8am(  period ;  increased  generally  in  wickedness,  and  particularly 
in  luirdness  of  heart ;  and  lost  every  serious  and  even  sober 
thouj^ht :  all  that  course  of  thought,  whence  moral  good  might  be 
deri\  cd,  or  whence  might  spring  any  hopeful  efforts  towards  salva- 
tion. This  is  a  case,  whicn  must,  I  think,  have  frequently  met  the 
eye  of  every  man,  who  is  seriously  attentive  to  the  moral  conduct— 
of  liis  fellow-men  ;  and  strongly  shows,  that  the  practice  has,  itself^ 
deplorably  corrupted  them  in  other  respects,  and  set  on  fire  the 
.  whole  course  of  nature  in  their  minds  and  lives.  Hence,  instead  o: 
bein^  accounted  virtuous  on  account  of  any  thing  in  their  othei 
con*luct,  persons,  addicted  to  this  sin,  have  been  regardad  by  coo 
mon  sense  as  gross  sinners  of  course*    ^^  A  projmu  penrntf^^  i 


SDL  CIT.]  OF  FBOFA!f£!f£88.  SIS 

therefore,  as  you  well  know,  proverbial  language,  nsed  regularly 
to  de.'iote  a  wicked  vicious  wretch. 

The  truth  plainly  is,  and  all  men  discern  it  to  be  truth,  that  ir 
reverence  to  God  is  a  general  source  of  wickedness.  As  I  r^ 
marked  in  a  former  discourse,  Religious  Reverence  is  the  directj 
and  peculiar^  source  of  reformation.  Irreverence,  its  opposite,  is 
in  the  same  manner  the  direct  source  of  degeneracy.  This  is  in- 
deed true  of  most  sins,  when  habitually  and  allowedly  practised. 
He,  who  practises  one  sin  in  this  manner,  will  almost  necessarily 
relish  other  sins  more.  As  the  body  when  corrupted,  and  weak- 
ened, by  sickness,  is  more  prepared  for  the  admission  of  any  dis- 
ease which  may  arrest  it ;  so  the  soul,  corrupted  by  sin  of  any 
kind,  becomes  more  fitted  for  the  admission  of  every  kind  of 
wickedness,  which  seeks  admission.  The  conscience  becomes 
less  tender,  less  awake,  less  alarmed  at  the  apprehension  of  goQu 
The  motives  also,  which  should  induce  us  to  abstain  from  iii* 
quity.  gradually  lose  their  power.  The  love  of  sinning,  the  evQ 
passions  and  appetites,  gain  strength  by  indulgence  ;  anid  tempta- 
tion, having  repeatedly  vanquished  us,  more  easily  vanquishes  nt 
again. 

But  irreverence,  more  than  almost  any  other  evil,  brines  us  into 
this  danger.  Whenever  God  becomes  an  object  of  little  impor- 
tance, or  estimation,  in  our  view ;  the  evil  of  sinning  vanishes  of 
course.  The  danger^  also,  speedily  recedes  from  our  view.  The 
only  great  and  solemn  Object  in  the  universe,  the  only  Being, 
who  is  of  ultimate  importance  to  us,  loses  all  his  awfiilness  and 
sanctity.  The  great  and  commanding  motive  is,  therefore,  gone ; 
and  there  is  notliing  left,  to  restrain  us,  but  reputation  or  con- 
venience. In  this  situation,  the  mind  is  prepared  for  fiitnre  per- 
petrations, not  only  by  an  increased  love  to  sinning,  bat  by  a 
strong  and  habitual  feeling,  operating  with  much  more  power 
than  mere  conviction,  that  sin  is  neither  guilty  nor  daneerous ;  or 
at  the  worst  as  a  thing  of  small  moment.  The  soul  is  thus  left 
free  to  the  indulgence  of  its  evil  propensities ;  and  the  restraints 
t  which  once  operated  with  no  small  efficacy,  lose  their  hoU  on  the 
^  Bund. 

An  affecting  exemplification  of  this  doctrine  is  seen  in  the  ten- 
dency of  one  exercise  of  profaneness  to  produce  another.  Per- 
sons addicted  to  profane  swearing  are,  I  apprehend,  nuch  more 
prone  than  most  others,  to  the  conunission  of  penury.  An  oath  is 
an  eminently  solemn  act  of  religious  worship.  The  person,  who 
takes  an  oath,  calls  God  to  witness  the  manner,  in  which  he  shatt 
speak,  or  act,  under  the  obligation  which  it  imposes.  If  he  shall 
speak  truth,  and  nothing  else  ;  if  he  shall  act  faithfully  in  the  of- 
fice, or  trust,  which  he  is  then  assuming ;  he  implores  God,  to  Meat 
him  here  and  hereafter.  If  he  shall  speak  fiailscly,  or  act  unfaicb- 
fidly ;  he  in  the  same  solemn  manner  invokes  on  his  head  the  di* 
vine  Tengeance  through  time  and  eternity 


"> 


THE  DANGER 


[SER.  cnu| 


Now  it  is  plain  beyonda  doubt,  that  llie  solemn  and  awful  char- 
,  acter  orGod  constitutes  all  the  solemnity  of  an  oalh.  If  he  is 
.  considered  by  the  person,  who  lakes  i(,  as  holy  and  sin-hating,  as 
the  unchangeable  Enemy  of  faithlessness  and  falsehood  ;  if  he  is 
realized  as  a  present  and  awfui  Witness  both  of  the  oath  and  the 
subsequent  conduct ;  If  he  is  beheved  to  be  the  future  and  dread- 
fill  Avenger  of  perjury  and  unfaithfulness ;  then  we  cannot  but 
suppose,  that  the  person,  who  has  thus  sworn,  will  deeply  feel  his 
obligation  to  be  sincere,  and  faithful ;  will  with  deep  anxiety  speak 
the  truth  exactly,  or  discharge  the  duties  of  the  assumed  offi^  in 
the  fear  of  God. 

But  if,  on  the  contrary,  the  juror,  whether  in  evidence  or  in  of- 
fice, regards  God  as  an  object  of  little  importance  ;  as  being  either 
too  weak,  or  too  regardless  of  rectitude,  to  take  any  serious  con- 
cern in  the  moral  conduct  of  his  creatures ;  as  destitute  of  sacrett 
neSs  of  character,  and  hatred  of  sin;  as  indifFercnt  to  truth  i 
falsehood,  faithfulnew  and  treachery;  as  wilUng  to  be  mod 
with  impunity,  and  abused  without  resentment;  as  existing,  o 
to  be  a  mere  caterer  to  the  wants  and  wishes  of  his  creatures,  ana 
a  mere  object  of  profanation  and  contempt :  then,  plainly,  the 
oath,  in  which  he  is  invoked,  can  have  little  solemnity  in  the  eyes, 
little  influence  on  the  heart,  and  little  efficacy  upon  the  conduct  of 
the  juror.   To  every  such  person  it  will  become  a  thing  of  course 
a  mere  wind-and- weather  incident,  an  empty  mockery  of  solei 
soundt  on  a  thoughtless  tongue.     Its  obligation  he  will  iieid 
feel,  nor  see.     The  duties,  which  it  requires,  he  will  not  perfoi 
There  will,  therefore,  be  no  difference  of  conduct,  in  this  case, 
faeen  him  that  saearelh,  and  Aim  that  stoearelh  not. 

Buthoff  evident  is  it,  that  persons,  who  swear  profanely,  speedir 
ly  lose  'bU  sense  of  the  awful  character  of  the  Creator,  f  roiA 
ttiflin^  with  him  in  this  wonderful  manner,  they  soon  learn  toioD* 
sider  nim  as  a  mere  trifler.  From  insulting  him  daily,  thef  sooa 
regard  him  as  a  proper  object  of  insult.  From  mocking  him  with 
such  impious  effrontery,  they  speedily  think  of  him  in  scarcely  any 
other  character,  than  that  of  a  mere  butt  of  mockery.  Thus  God 
is  first  degraded,  in  the  view  of  the  mind,  by  its  own  profaneness, 
and  then  mtruded  upon  by  perjury.  He,  who  swears  profanely, 
will,  in  ordinary  cases,  soon  swear  falsely.  Accordingly,  custom- 
house oaths,  proverbially  false,  are  usually  taken  by  profane  men. 
Nay,  such  men  have  by  their  own  perjuries  renderea  these  oallu 
proverbially  false.  Oaths  in  evidence,  also,  taken  by  such  men,  arP 
justly  regarded  as  lying  under  a  general  imputation ;  as  contribnt- 
1  ing  not  a  little  to  unhinge  the  confidence  of  mankind  in  this  their 
last  reliance  for  truth  and  safely. 

What  is  true  of  profane  cursing  and  swearing,  as  to  its  corrupt- 


ing power,  is  true  of  irreverence  ia  every  form.  Disregard  to 
God  is  the  flood-gate  to  all  moral  evil,  ife,  who  enters  upon  ihit 
conduct,  ought  to  consider  himself  as  then  entering  upon  an  unirei^ 


Si3t  CIT.]  OF  FROFANENESS.  216 

sal  course  of  iniquity;  and  as  then  yielding  himself,  as  a  slave,  to 
do  the  whole  drudgery  of  Satan. 

2d]y.  Profaneneas  is  a  sin,  which  is  rapidly progrtsaivi. 
This  truth  cannot  hut  be  discerned,  extensively,  in  the  obaer- 
vations  already  made.  Every  act  of  profaning  Ihe  name,  perfec- 
tions, works,  word,  and  worship,  of  God,  is  obviously  a  bold,  pre- 
sumptuous attack  upon  this  glorious  Being.  The  sinner,  having 
once  dared  so  far,  becomes  easily  more  dapng ;  and  passes  rapitf 
ly  from  one  stale  of  wickedness  to  another,  until  he  becomes  final- 
ly harJened  in  rebellion  against  his  Maker.  That  most  necessair 
'fear  of  God,  which  is  the  great  restraint  upon  sinful  men,  is  speed- 
lUy  lost.  The  sinner  is  [hen  left  without  a  check  upon  his  wicked- 
ness ;  and  voluntarily  induces  upon  himself  a  flinty  obstinacy, 
which  is  a  kind  of  reprobation  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 

At  the  same  time,  the  longuc  is  a  most  convenient  instrument 
of  iniquity,  always  ready  for  easy  use.  We  cannot  always  sin 
with  the  hands ;  and  are  not  always  sufficiently  gratified  by  mere 
sins  of  thought.  Much  as  it  is  to  be  lamented,  there  is  no  small 
source  of  pleasure,  found  by  wicked  men  in  communicating  their 
sinful  thoughts  and  feelings  to  each  other.  The  slanderer  is  never 
satisfied  with  merely  thinking  over  slander.  The  liar  would  soon 
be  discouraged  if  he  could  not  utter  his  lies.  The  profane  swearer 
could  hardly  fail  of  becoming  a  reformed  man,  were  it  not  for  the 
pleasure,  litde  as  it  i^,  which  he  Gnds  in  uttering  his  profanenr'ss  to 
Others.  The  sins  of  the  tongue  are  perpetrated,  alike,  wilh  lase, 
Jod  delight,  every  day;  and  m  everyplace,  where  even  a  soliiaiy 
'Bidividual  can  be  found  to  listen.  Hence  transgressions  of  this 
kind  are  multiplied  wonderfully.  The  thief  steals,  and  the  cheat 
aefraudH,  occasionally  only.  But  the  slanderer  will  slander  every 
day.  The  liar  utters  falsehood  unceasingly.  The  profane  person 
■wears sod  curses  every  where ;  and  multiplies  his  iniquities  as  the 
drops  ofHu  morning.  From  the  mind  of  such  a  person  it  is  ressona- 
Mk  believed,  that  llie  Spirit  of  that  God  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to 
lBu/(j  iniquity,  will  in  a  peculiar  manner  withdraw  his  influence, 
tan  it  be  rationally  supposed,  Uiat  this  celestial  Visitant  will  stay 
,lrith  man,  to  be  a  witness  of  irreverence  and  profanation  ?  Ought  not 
*rery  profane  person  to  feel,  that  he  is  forcing  away  from  himself 
titose  benevolent  restraints  upon  his  wickedness,  which  constitutes 
lis  onlf  security,  and  the  only  rational  foundation  of  his  hojlws  ot 
eternaThfe  ? 

Sdly.  Profaneness,  particularly  that  of  the  tongue,  naturally  intro- 
ittces  men  to  evil  companions,  and  shuts  them  out  from  (he  enjoy- 
WtenI  of  those  who  are  virtuous. 

All  men  love,  all  men  seek,  companions,  of  their  own  character. 
Sinners  herd  with  sinners  instinctively.  Virtuous  men  seek  the 
company  of  those  who  are  virtuous.  Men  of  learning  consort 
»ith  men  of  learning ;  philosophers  with  philosojihei-s;  merchanta, 
knaen,  mechanics,  and  seamen,  seek  the  company  of  those  of 


t% 


^G  ^™B  DAMQER  pSSL  OY. 

their  own  class :  the  mere,  incidental  circumstances  of  pursuing 
the  same  kind  of  business  alluring  them,  regularly,  to  the  society 
of  each  other.  Still  more  poweriul  arc  moral  indutements.  This 
is  a  fact  so  extensively  observed,  that  mankind  have  proverbially 
remarked,  that  a  man  is  known  by  the  company  which  he  keeps. 

Profane  persons  are  shut  out  from  the  company  of  virtuous  men 
by  a  variety  of  considerations.  They  totally  disrelish  the  charac- 
ter of  virtuous  men ;  their  pursuits ;  their  sentiments ;  their  con- 
versation ;  and  usually  shun  their  society  on  this  account.  They 
also  dread  their  inspection ;  and  fear  to  have  them  witnesses  of 
their  own  character,  language,  and  opinions.  For  this  reason, 
whenever  they  are  in  their  company,  they  feel  obliged  to  guard 
themselves;  to  bridle  their  tongues;  and  to  take,  care,  that  their 
language  and  sentiments  be  not  offensive  to  their  conapanions,  and 
dishonourable  to  themselves.  This  restraint,  like  all  otiiers,  is 
painful;  and  they  are  unwilling  to  subject  themselves  to  it,  when- 
ever it  can  be  avcHded. 

Virtue,  also,  is  in  its  own  nature  awful  to  all  sinners  :  and  proud 
as  they  are  of  themselves,  and  their  sins,  they  cannot  fail,  in  the 
hauf<tf  sober  consideration,  to  feel  their  inferiority;  and  accord-  J 
ingly*  to  be  humbled,  mortified,  and  abashed.     Cfnrist  informs  us  J 
that  he  who  doeth  evil  hateth  the  light,  neither  cometh  to  the  light,  lat   \ 
kii  deeds  should  be  reproved.     For  the  very  same  reason,  profane 
persons,  and  other  sinners,  hate  the  company  of  religious  men ; 
Mteuse  their  character  and  conduct  are  a  direct  contrast  to  their 
own,  and  hold  them  out  in  a  stronger  light  of  unworthiness  and  de- 
basement.    This  contrast,  few  wicked  men  are  willing  to  bear. 
Almost  all  of  them  shrink  from  it,  as  a  wounded  patient  shrinks 
firom  the  probe  of  the  surgeon. 

At  the  same  time,  virtuous  persons  loath,  of  course,  the  com- 
pany, and  conversation,  of  all  open  and  obstinate  sinners.  But 
profane  persons  are  among  the  most  open  of  all  sinners.  Their 
sin  is  ever  on  their  lips,  and  continually  proclaimed  by  iheir 
tongues.  It  is  impossible  therefore,  that  their  characters  should 
not Tbe  known.  Persons,  so  directly  opposed  in  feelings  and  pu^ 
suits,  can  never  unite  with  that  mutual  agreement  of  heart,  or  con-  < 
versation,  which  is  indispensable  to  the  pleasantness,  and  even  to  j 
the  continuance,  of  famihar  society.  The  virtuous  man  will,  at  the 
same  time,  find  every  thing  lacking  in  such  persons  which  he  seeb 
for  in  company  ;  whether  it  be  pleasure,  or  profit. 

In  addition  to  these  things,  his  reputation  oecomes  stained,  and 
yery  deeply,  if  he  consorts,  voluntarily,  with  such  comprinions.  \ 
"  Why,"  it  will  naturally  be  asked,  "does  he  frequent  such  com-  *■" 
pany  ?"  "  Certainly,"  it  will  be  answered, "  not  for  profit.''  The  *- 
necessary  inference  is,  therefore,  that  he  frequents  it  for  the  sake  of  "^ 
pleasure.  Of  course,  he  must  find  pleasure  in  sin ;  and  in  this  fc 
peculiarly  odious  sin.  But  to  find  pleasure  in  any  sin  is  a  direct  ' 
contradiction  of  his  religious  profession ;  a  direct  denial  of  his    ^ 


I 


Cnr.]  OF  PROFANSNESS.  317 

Christian  character.  In  this  manner,  then,  he  wounds  hinriBelf ; 
he  wounds  the  church ;  he  wounds  the  cause  of  God.  What  Chris- 
tian can  be  supposed  to  make  such  a  sacrifice,  for  the  sake  of  any 
thing  which  he  can  gain  from  sinful  companions? 

But  the  dangers  from  evil  companions  are  continual,  extreme,  and 
in  a  sense  infinite.  They  are  found  every  moment,  and  in  every 
place :  especially  in  the  haunts,  customarily  firequented  by  men  of 
this  character.  Here  all  the  means  of  sinning  are  gathered  to- 
gether. The  companion  of  fools,  or  wicked  men,  saith  God,  shall 
6e  dtitrm/edm 

The  advantages  of  virtuous  company,  on  the  contrary,  are  great 
and  unspeakable.  Their  sentiments  and  conduct  are  such  as 
their  consciences  approve ;  and  such  as  God  approves.  Their 
sentiments  are  all  conformed  to  the  Scriptures.  Their  conduct  is 
the  natural  fruit  of  their  sentiments :  not  perfect  indeed  ;  but 
sincere,  amiable,  and  excellent.  In  this  character  is  presented  a 
powerful  check  upon  sin,  and  a  powerful  support  to  virtue.  No 
persons  can  give  so  alarming  an  exhibition  of  the  evil,  guilt,  and 
danger  of  sin,  as  they.  No  persons  can  place  virtue  in  so  allur- 
ing a  light.  They  have  felt  the  evils  of  sin,  the  foret|fties  of 
immortaUty,  and  the  pleasures  of  holiness.  They,  thei«fore, 
can  enter,  with  the  heart,  into  both  subjects  ;  and  can  speak  of 
both  with  feelings,  unknown  to  other  men,  and  incapable  of  being 
known,  until  they  become  virtuous.  Hence  good  may  be  gain^Boj 
and  evil  avoided,  by  means  of  their  company,  by  means  pecttBa^ 
to  them,  which  is  often  unattainable,  or  unavoidable,  in  any'dHnp 
manner.  -  * 

By  shutting  himself  out  from  this  company,  the  profane  person, 
therefore,  voluntarily  relinquishes  one  of  the  chief  blessings  of  .^ 
life;  one  of  the  great  means  of  securing  life  eternal.    Nothing/  .  ' 
perhaus,  beside  me  worship  of  God,  and  a  religious  education,  < 
contributes  more  fi'equently,  or  more  certainly,  to  bring  men  inio 
the  strait  and  narrow  way ;  to  keep  them  in  it,  after  they  have  once 
entered  ;  or  to  aid,  and  quicken,  them  in  the  journey  towards  heav- 
en.    Nothing,  on  the  other  hand,  seems  more  readily,  or  regularly 
to  withdraw  them  from  danger,  guilt,  and  ruin.     All  this  good  the    . 

Srofane  person  voluntarily  casts  away.  Other  sinners,  of  more 
ecent  characters,  often  enjoy  this  blessing;  and  find  it  a  blessing 
indeed.  But  the  profane  person  carries  with  him  the  label  of  rejec- 
tion; the  mark  of  oudawly  from  virtuous*  society ;  a  label,  volun- 
tarily worn;  a  mark,  branded  by  himself. 

At  the  same  time,  he  is  consigned  in  the  same  voluntary  manner. 
to  the  company  of  wicked  men.     Here  virtue  and  hope  are  blasted 
together.     Here,  all  the  curses,  opposed  to  the  blessings  above  re- 
cited, multiply,  and  thrive.     Here,  his  life  is  wasted;  and  his  soul 
hazarded,  assassinated,  and  destroyed  for  ever. 

4thly.  Profaneness  exposes  men  to  the  terrible  denunciation  of  the 
Uxt. 

Vol.  III.  28 


t-  ■ 


•  • 

• 

» 

» 

•♦. 

THE  DANGER 

[SER.CIT 

318 

• 

The  occasion  on  which  this  threatening  was  pronounced,  the 
Person  by  whom,  and  |j|e  manner  and  circumstances  in  which  it 
was  pubhshed  to  mankind,  oueht  to  render  it  peculiarly  alarming 
to  every  man,  who  i^  guilty  of  this  sin.  Thou  shah  not  take  the  nami 
of  the  Lord  J  thfOod,  in  vain^  said  the  Creator  of  all  things,  witfi 
an  audible  voice  fipom  Sinai,  while  the  world  was  trembling  beneath 
him ;  for  the  Lord  will  not  hold  him  guiltless^  who  taketh  his  name 
in  vain.  This  ^vas  the  declaration  of  Him,  who  is  thus  profaned, 
and  thus  mocked  ;  of  him,  who  is  an  ear-witness  of  all  this  pro- 
faneness  and  mockery ;  of  him,  by  whom  the  wretch,  guilty  of  this 
fearful  transgression,  will  be  judged  and  condemned,  at  tie  final 
day.  The  threatening  is  denounced  against  a  single  transgression 
of  this  nature.  What,  then,  must  Ifj^  the  guilt,  and  the  danger,  of 
profane  persons,  deformed  as  they  usually  are  with  transgressions, 
scarcely  numerable  by  man !  What  a  chain  of  profanations,  of 
oaths  and  curses,  will  every  such  person  drag  after  him  to  die 
throne  of  God!  How  will  he  tremble  at  the  retrospect;  shrink 
from  the  dread  tribunal,  before  his  cause  is  heard ;  and  realize  the 
sentence  of  condemnation  before  it  is  pronounced ! 

The  threatening,  here  declared,  is  a  sentence,  gone  forth  before- 
hand from  the  triounal  of  eternal  Justice,  against  this  particular 
transgression :  a  doom,  already  pronounced,  and  hastemng  to  its 
execution,  by  the  hand  of  Him,  from  whom  no  sinner  can  escape 
It  is  a  sentence,  which  cannot  be  misunderstood ;  against  a  crime, 
which  cannot  be  doubted.  Many  sins  are  of  such  a  nature,  that 
the  sinner  may  question  the  reaUty  of  his  guilt.  Here,  the  crime 
is  perfectly  known,  and  the  sentence  absolutely  decisive.  The 
profane  person,  therefore,  may  consider  himself  as  tried,  judged, 
and  condemned,  already;  judged,  and  condemned,  from  amid.sl  die 
thunders  and  lightnings  of  the  mount  of  God :  and  wo  "be  to  him, 
who  does  not  believe,  and  tremble. 

REMARKS. 

1st.  TTiese  observations  exhUnt  in  a  strong  light  the  depravityrf 
the  human  heart. 

In  the  progress  of  these  discourses,  it  has  been  clearly  evinced, 
that  profaneness  is  a  sin,  perpetrated  in  an  almost  endless  variety 
of  forms;  that  it  is  a  sin,  attended  with  enormous  guilt,  and  expos- 
ing the  perpetrator  to  immense  danger.     It  has  also  been  shown, 
that  the  inducements  tdit  are  very  few,  and  very  small:  while  ihc 
motives,  opp<»(Bd  to  it,  are  very  many,  and  very  great.     Yet  how 
•  evident  is  it,  that  th^^  very  sin  is,  and  ever  has  been,  practised  by 
incomprehensible  multitudes  of  mankind !     The  Jews  were  pro- 
fane :  the  Mahommedans  are  profane :  the  Christian  nations  arc 
profane  :  and  the  Heathen  nations  are,  and  ever  were,  profane  to 
such  Gods,  as  they  acknowledged.     Among  all  these  nations,  or, 
in  other  words,  throughout  the  whole  earth,  and  throughout  the 
whole  reign  of  time,  innumerable  individuals  have  ever  been  pro* 


( 


SER  CIV.]  OF  TBOFUfXNESS.  219 

fane.  Indeed,  in  one  form  and  another,  no  man  bas  been  guili- 
less  of  [hat  irreverence  towards  God,  IB  which  the  essence  of 
profaneness  consists.  The  evil,  therefore,  spreads  over  the  world ; 
and,  in  one  form,  or  another,  attaches,  itself  to  every  child  of 
Adam. 

How  wonderful  a  specimen  of  human  comiplion  is  nresenleU 
in  the  so  general  profanation  of  the  Name  of  God,  exhibiieJ  in 
light-minded  cursing  and  swearing!  How  perfectly  at  a  loss  is 
Reason  for  a  motive  to  originate,  and  explain,  itiis  conduct ! 
Why  should  the  Name  of  (he  Creator  be  treated  with  irreverence  ? 
Why  should  not  any  thing  else  be  uttered  by  man,  if  we  consider 
him  merely  as  a  rational  oeing,  without  recurring  at  all  to  his  moral 
and  accountable  character,  rather  than  latiguage  of  this  nature? 
Certainly,  it  contributes  not,  in  the  least  degree,  to  the  advance- 
ment of  any  purpose,  cherished  by  the  mind  of  the  profane  per- 
son ;  unless  that  purpose  is  mere  profaneness.  I  know  well,  that 
patiion  is  ofttn  pltaded  for  the  use  of  this  language.  But  why 
should  passion  prompt  lo  profaneness  ?  Anger,  one  would  sup- 
pose, would  naturally  vent  itself  in  expressions  of  resenlmenl 
against  the  person,  who  had  provoked  us.  But  this  person  is  al- 
ways a  fellow-creature;  a  man  like  ourselves.  In  what  way,  or 
in  what  degree,  is  God  concerned  in  this  matter  ?  What  has  the 
passion,  what  has  the  provocation,  to  do  with  Him,  his  name,  or  his 
character?  Whydowf  ai;l-ont  and  injure  him,  because  a  creature, 
infinitely  unlike  nim,  has  affronted  and  injured  us?  1  know  that 
Cvflom,  also,  is  pleaded,  as  an  extenuation,  and  perhaps  as  an  ex- 
planation, of  ibis  crime.  But  how  came  such  a  custom  to  exist? 
How  came  any  rational  being  ever  to  think  of  profaning  (he  name 
of  God  ?  How  came  any  other  rational  being  to  follow  him  in  this 
wickedness  ?  Whence  was  it,  that  so  many  millions  of  those,  who  ■ 
ought  to  be  rational  beings,  have  followed  them  both?  What  end 
can  it  have  answered?  What  honour,  gain,  or  pleasure,  can  it 
have  furnished?  What  taste  can  it  have  gratified?  What  desire, 
what  affection,  can  it  have  indulged  ?  What  end  can  the  profane 
person  have  proposed  to  himself? 

Can  any  explanation  be  given  of  this  conduct,  except  that  it 
springs  from  love  to  wickedness  itself?  From  a  heart  fixedly  op- 
posed to  its  Maker  ;  pleased  with  affronting  him  ;  loving  to  abuse 
nis  character,  and  to  malign  his  glorious  agency  ?  A  heart  in 
which  sin  is  gratuitous  ;  by  whicn  in  juster  language  naihing 
is  gained,  much  is  plainly  lost,  and  every  thing  'a  nazai-ded  ? 
What,  beside  the  love  of'^srnning;  what,  but  the  peculiar  turpi- 
tude of  the  character ;  can  be  the  source,  or  the  explanation  of  tnii 
conduct  ? 

Sdly.  Thtse  obseroaltorut  teach  us  the  Goodness  of  God  in  alarm- 
mgnumkind  concerning  this  sin  in  so  solemn  a  vumner. 

The  gmlt  of  profaneness  cannot  be  questioned  :  nor  can  there 
be  any  more  question  concerning  the  danger  to  which  the  pcrpc- 


•• 


230  THE  DANGER  [8EB.  GIT. 

trator  exposes  himftelf.  In  such  a  situation,  how  kindJ^Hbas  the 
Lawgiver  of  the  universe  warned  mankind  against  the  perpetra- 
tion, by  announcing  to  them,  in  this  affecting  manner,  the  evil  to 
•  which  it  would  expose  them.  He  saw,  perfectly,  their  tendency 
to  this  wickedness ;  and  with  infinite  mercy  has  been  pleased  to 
provide  those  means  for  their  safety,  which  are  best  calculated  to 
msufy  it. 

If  a  child  were  advancing  towards  the  brow  of  a  precipice; 
how  kindly  would  he  and  his  parent  regard  a  friend,  wno  should 
announce  to  him  his  danger,  direct  him  with  sure  guidance,  and 
influence  him  with  efficacious  motives,  to  avoid  it.  The  threat- 
ening, contained  in  this  command,  and,  together  with  it,  all  those 
which  are  found  in  the  Scriptures,  are  calculated  for  this  very 
purpose.  They  warn  us  of  approaching  gpilt  t  they  declare  to 
us  approaching  danger.  Thousands  ana  millions  of  the  human 
race  have  been  actually  'saved  by  them  from  impending  destruc- 
tion. Terrible  are  they  indeed  to  obstinate  sinners,  because  they 
disturb  them  in  their  beloved  course  of  sinning,  and  because  they 
intend  not  to  cease  from  sin.   Still  they  are  not  the  less  mercifully 

fiven.  They  are  the  very  means,  by  which  immense  multitudes 
ave  been  plxicked^  as  brands,  mil  of  the  burning. 
3dly.  Let  merp^rn  all  thd^  .  ii-Uo  hear  me,  to  shun  prof anenesi. 
To  this  end,  j7r  in  your  nuiida  a  solemn  and  controlling  sense  of 
the  evil  and  danger  of  this  sin*  Make  this  sense  habitual  in  sudi 
a  manner,  that  it  may  be  always  ready  to  rise  up  in  the  mind,  and 
present  itself  before  your  eves.  Feel,  that  you  will  gain  nothing 
riere,  and  lose  every  thing  hereafter. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  views,  keep  the  evil  always  at  a 
great  distance.  Mark  the  men,  who  are  profane  ;  and  avoid  their 
company,  as  you  would  avoid  the  plague.  Shun  the  places  where 
profancness  aoounds,  or  where  it  may  be  expected  to  abound,  as 
you  would  shun  a  quicksand.  Avoid  them;  pass  not  by  them; 
turn  from  them  ;  pass  away.  Remember,  that  tnese  places  are  the 
way  to  hell ;  going  down  to  the  chambers  of  death. 

Unceasingly  say  to  yourselves.  Thou  God  seest  me.  Unceas- 
ingly say  to  yourselves.  The  Lord  will  not  hold  him  guiltless j  that 
taketh  his  name  in  vain.  Remember,  that  he  is  most  mercifully 
disposed  to  be  your  Father^  and  everlasting  friend  ;  that  he  cannot 
be  your  friend,  unless  you  regai*d  him  with  reverence  and  Godly 
fear;  and  that,  if  He  be  not  your  friend,  you  will  throughout  ete^ 
nity  be  friendless,  and  helpless,  and  hopeless.  What  then  will 
become  of  you? 

Carefully  avoid  mentioning  his  great  Name  on  any^  except  solemn^ 
occasions ;  and  in  any  manner  which  is  not  strictly  reverential. 
Never  speak,  never  think,  of  God,  his  Son,  his  Spirit,  his  Name, 
his  works,  his  Word,  or  his  Institutions,  without  solemnity  and 
awe.  Never  approach  his  House,  or  his  Word,  without  rever- 
ence.   Prepare  yourselves  by  solenm  consideration  and  humble 


8SIt  CSV.}  OF  FR0FANENE8&  ^1 

prayer  lOr  his  Worship.  Shun  all  that  language  which,  though 
not  directly  profane,  is  merely  a  series  of  steps  towards  profane- 
ness ;  and  all  those  thoughts  of  sacred  things,  which  are  tinctured 
with  levity.  At  the  same  time,  daily  beseech  him  to  preserve 
you;  and  let  your  unceasing  prayer  be,  Setawatch^  OLiOrd!  bc" 
fare  my  mouth :  keep  the  door  of  my  lips. 

4thly.  Let  me  solemnly  admonish  the  profane  persons^  JA  this 
OMsemblyj  of  their  guilt  and  danger.  ^ 

You,  unhappily  for  yourselves,  are  those,  who  take  the  name  of 
God  in  vain  ;  and  of  course  are  now,  or  soon  will  be,  subjects  of 
all  the  ^ilt  and  danger,  which  I  have  specified.  .AToio,  therefore, 
thus  satth  the  Lord^  Consider  your  ways.  Remember  what  you 
are  doing ;  against  whom  your  evil  tongues  are  directed ;  who  is 
the  object  of  yoUr  contempt  and  mockery. 

Ask  yourselves  what  you  gain ;  what  you  expect  to  gain ;  what 

iou  do  not  lose.  Remember,  that  you  lose  your  reputation,  at 
^ast  in  the  mindi^  of  all  the  wise  and  good,  and  all  the  blessings 
of  their  company  and  friendship ;  that  you  sacrifice  your  peace  of 
mind ;  that  vou  break  down  all  those  principles,  on  whicn  Virtue 
may  be  grafted,  and,  with  them,  every  rational  hope  of  eternal 
Bfe ;  that  you  are  rapidly  becoming  more  and  more  corrupted, 
day  by  day ;  and  that,  with  this  deplorable  character,  you  are 
preparing  to  go  to  the  judgment.  Think  what  it  will  be  to  swear, 
and  curse,  to  mock  God,  and  insult  your  Redeemer,  through 
life ;  to  carry  your  oaths  and  curses  to  a  dying  bed ;  to  enter 
eternity  with  blasphemies  in  your  mouths ;  and  to  stand  before 
the  final  bar,  when  the  last  sound  of  profaneness  has  scarcely  died 
upon  your  tongues. 

If  tnesc  considerations  do  not  move  you  ;  if  they  do  not  make 
you  tremble  at  the  thought  of  what  you  are  doing ;  if  they  do  not 
force  you  to  a  solemn  pause  in  the  career  of  iniquity  ;  if  they  do 
not  compel  you  to  retrace  your  downward  steps,  and  return, 
while  it  is  in  your  power,  to  reformation  and  safety ;  I  can  only 
tay,  that  you  are  hurried  by  an  evil  spirit  to  destruction ;  that 
you  are  maniacs  in  sin,  on  whom  neither  reason  nor  religion  has 
any  influence ;  and  that  you  will  soon  find  yourselves  in  me  eter- 
nal dungeon  of  darkness  and  despair* 


Jr^X 


SERMON  CV. 

.    THE  rOCRTH  COMMANDMSITT. THE  PERPETUITr  OF  THE  SABBATH. 


'*• 


Exodus  IX.  8 — 11. — Remember  the  Sabbath  day,  to  keep  it  holy.    Six  dayi  Matt 
thou  labovr,  and  do  alt  thy  work :  But  the  seventh  day  is  the  Sabbath  of  the  Lari 
*  thy  God;  in  U  thou  thalt  not  do  any  toork,  thou^  nor  thy  ion,  nor  thy  HnughteTf  Ihy 

mail  servant,  nor  thy  maid  serraiU,  nor  thy  cattle,  nor  thy  stranger  thai  is  unthim 
'thy  pates  ;  For  in  six  days  the  Lord  made  hear  en  and  earth,  the  sea,  and  ait  that  m 
them  is,  and  rested  the  seventh  day  ;  wherefore  the  Lord  blessed  the  SabbeUh  day^ 
and  luUlowed  it. 

The  Command,  which  is  given  us  in  this  passa'ge  of  Scripture, 
requii'cs  no  explanation.  I  snail,  therefore,  proceed  immediately 
to  the  consideration  of  the  great  subject,  which  it  presents  to  bur 
view^  under  the  following  heads  : 

L'  The  Ferpetual  Establishment  of  the  Sabbath :  and 
•.  II.  Tlu  Manner^  in  which  it  is  to  be  observed, 

'^■'  I.  /  shall  endeavour  to  prove  the  Perpetual  Establishment  of  the 

■i        Sabbath  in  the  Scriptures. 

This  $ubject  I  propose  to  consider  at  length  j  and,  in  the  course 
of  my  examination,  shall  attempt  to  offer  direct  proof  of  its  Perpe* 
tuity^  and  then  to  answer  Objections. 
In  direct  proof  of  the  Perpetuity  of  this  institution  I  allege, 
1.   The  Text. 

Th*'  text  is  one  of  the  commands  of  the  Moral  Law.  Now  it  is 
acknowledged,  that  the  Moral  Law  is,  in  the  most  universal  sensCi 
binding  on  men  of  every  age,  and  every  country.  If,  then,  this 
command  be  apart  of  tnat  Law;  all  mankind  must  be  under  im- 
moveable obligations  to  obey  the  injunctions,  which  it  contains. 

That  it  is  a  part  of  the  Moral  Law  I  argue  from  the  fact,  that  ii 
is  united  with  the  other  commands ,  which  are  acknowledged  to  be  of 
this  nature.  It  is  twice  placed  in  the  midst  of  the  decalogue  ;  in 
the  context,  and  in  the  fifth  of  Deuteronomy.  This  fact,  you  will 
remember,  was  the  result  of  design,  and  not  of  accident :  a  de- 
sign, lormed  and  executed  by  God  nimself,  and  not  by  Moses. 

I  argue  it,  also,  from  the  fact,  tl^it  this  command,  together  Toith 
the  remaining  nine,  was  spoken  with  an  awful  and  audible  voice  from 
the  midst  of  the  thunders,  and  lightnings,  which  enveloped  Mount  St- 
^»  nai.  The  splendour  and  Majesty  of  this  scene  were  such,  that 
all  the  people,  who  were  in  the  ^amp,  trembled.  And  when  they  saw 
the  thunderings,  and  lightnings,  and  the  noise  of  the  trumpet,  and  the 
mountain  smoking,  they  removed,  and  stood  afar  off:  and  said  unto 
Moses,  Speak  thou  with  us  ;  and  we  will  hear^  but  let  not  God  speak 
with  us,  lest  we  die.  Even  Moses  himself  exceedingly  feared  and 
quaked. 


4 


Ji 


IZn.  CV]  OF  THE  SABBATR  933 

I  .ir^ue  this  doclrine  also  from  the  faol  that  thu  command  wai 
ttrillr'i  by  tht  Jingtr  of  God,  on  one  of  Ike  two  tables  of  itone,  origin- 
atti/  ji^ipand  by  himself,  and  drslintd  lo  contain  nothing,  bill  thtt 
and  thr  other  precepts  of  the  Decalogvc.  ll  was  aflerwa^s  written 
again  Ity  the  same  hand,  after  these  tables  were  broken,  on  ojie  of 
two  similar  tables,  prepai-ed  by  Moies,  A  table  of  sioiie,  and  dl 
pillar  "f  stone,  were,  in  ancient  limes,  direct  symbols  of  the  nerpcjf 
tuity  "I"  whatever  was  engraved  on  them.  This  very  natural  sym- 
bol diiJ  was  pleased  to  adopt  in  the  present  case,  to  show  the 
Eerp''iiidl  obligation  of  these  commands.  The  remainder  of  the 
iw,  given  by  Moses,  was  all  written  in  a  book  ;  and  was  here  in- 
tenlio^iallv,  and  entirely  distinguished,  as  to  its  importance,  from 
the  D'cafogue,  The  tables  of  stone  on  which  these  commands  were 
vrilltn,  were  fashioned  by  the  hand  of  God  himself.  This  also, 
fqijais^a  peculiar  article  of  distinction  between  the  Decalogue,  and 
tKe  TPSt  of  the  Jewish  law.  Nothing  but  the  Decalogue  ever  re- 
ceived such  an  honour,  as  this.  It  was  written  on  one  of  these  ta- 
bles by  the  &ngcr  of  God.  This  also  is  a  distinction  peculiar  to 
the  Decalogue. 

Wfien  Moses,  in  his  zeal  to  destroy  the  idolatry  of  the  hraelitet, 
had  broken  the  two  tables  of  stone,  fashioned  and  written  upon  in  / 

this  manner ;  God  directed  him  to  make  two  other  tables  of  stone, 
Uke  ih^  first.  On  these  he  was  pleased  to  write  the  same  commands 
a  ttrond  time.  In  this  act  he  has  taught  us,  that  he  was  pleased 
to  bffome,  a  second  time,  the  recorder  of  these  precepts  with  his 
own  [1  ind,  rather  than  that  the  entire  distinction  between  these 
precpts,  and  others,  should  be  obliterated. 

Ev-ry  part  of  this  solemn  transaction,  it  is  to  be  remetnbercd, 
iras  till  result  of  contrivance  and  design  i  of  contrivance  and  design, 
m  ihf  part  of  God  himself.  Every  part  of  it,  therefore,  speaks  a 
Ungu.i^e,  which  is  to  be  esarained,  and  interpreted,  by  us.  Now 
let  m^'  .isk,  whether  this  language  is  not  perfectly  intelligible,  and 
_perii.'i:ily  unambiguous.  Is  il  not  clear  Iwyond  every  rational  dc- 
faaie,  itiat  God  designed  to  distinguish  these  precepts  from  every 
<rthpr  piirt  of  the  Moiaic  law,  both  as  to  their  superior  importance, 
and  ihfir  perpetuity  '.  Is  it  not  incredible,  that  God  should  mark, 
fin  so  toiemn  a  manner,  this  command,  together  with  the  remaining 
nipe.  unless  he  intended,  that  all,  to  whom  these  precepts  should 
^WDc,  that  is,  all  Jews  and  Christians,  or  all  who  should  afterwards 
>%ad  the  Scriptures,  should  regard  these  Commands  as  possessing 
tliai  V'Ty  importance,  which  he  thus  significantly  gave  them ; 
^oiil  1  consider  them  as  being,  in  a  peculiar  sense,  his  law ;  and 
lioW  iiicm  as  being  perpetually,  and  uiiiversally,obligaiory? 
'  Il  n  fiirther  lo  be  remembered,  that  Mrs  command  ti  delivered  in 
1  t3itt,i,/„nb»olule  manner,  as  the  other  nine.  There  is  no  limitation 
I  toi}i-  i-hrascology,  in  which  it  is  contained.  Honour  thy  father 
I  fcrf  (^  mother,  is  obligatory  on  all  children,  to  whom  this  precept 
llhOcuiite.      7%ou  «/u)/f  not  steal,  is  a  precept,  probibiiing  the 


2124  1^^  PERPETunr  [SER.  cr. 

5        stealing  of  every  man,  who  shall  know  it.     Every  Gentile^  as  well 

as  every  Jeto,  who  sinneth  under  the  law,  will,  according  to  the  spirit 

»•    of  the  Apostle's  declaration,  be  judged  by  the  law.     Agreeably  to 

this  equitable  construction,  every  person,  to  whom  this  precept 

shall  come,  is  bound  to  remember  the  Sabbath  day,  to  keep  it  holy. 

But  it  is  acknowledged,  that  ^^  all  the  remaining  commands  are 
indeed  universally  obligatory ;  being  in  their  own  nature  moral, 
and  having  therefore  an  universal  application  to  mankind.  This, 
however,  is  plainly  a  Command  merely  positive,  and  therefore 
destitute  o(  tnis  universality  of  application.  It  may,  of  course, 
be  dispensed  with ;  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  delivered  to 
the  Jews  only,  like  their  ceremonial  and  judicial  law ;  may  have 
been  destined  to  continue,  so  long  as  their  national  state  continu- 
ed ;  and,  thus  may  have  been  designed  to  be  of  neither  universal, 
nor  perpetual,  obligation." 

To  this  objection,  which  I  have  stated  at  full  length,  that  I  itaight 
be  sure  of  doing  justice  to  it,  I  give  the  following  anbwer. 

•First ;  it  appears  to  me  evident,  that,  so  far  as  my  information 
extends,  the  distinction  between  moral  and  positive  commands  has 
been  less  clearly  made  by  moral  writers,  than  most  other  distinc- 
tions. It  will  be  impossible  for  any  man  clearly  to  see,  and  to 
limit,  exactly,  what  they  intend  when  they  use  these  terms.  To 
remove  this  difficulty,  so  far  as  my  audience  are  concerned,  and  to 
enable  them  to  know  what  I  design,  while  I  am  using  these  words, 
I  will  attempt  to  define  them  with  some  particularity. 

^  moral  precept,  is  one,  which  regulates  the  moral  conduct  of 
Intelligent  creatures,  and  binds  the  will  and  the  conscience.     It  is 
either  limited,  or  universal :  it  is  universal ;  or,  in  other  words,  is 
obligatory  on  the  conscier.ces  of  Intelligent  creatures,  at  all  times, 
and  in  all  circumstances,  when  their  situations  and  relations  are 
universally  such,  as  to  render  the  conduct  required  in  these  pre- 
cepts their  duty  invariably,  and  in  the  nature  of  things.     Of  this 
kind,  the  number  of  precepts  is  certainly  very  small.     We  are 
bound  to  love  God,  and  our  neighbour,  invariably.     But  the  fjlh 
command,  in  its  obvious  sense,  can  have  no  application,  where  the 
relations  of  parent  and  child  do  not  exist ;  the  sixth,  where  rational 
beings  are  immortal ;  the  9$vmth,  where  the  distinction  of  sex  is 
not  found.     To  these  preceptt,  therefore,  the  criterion  of  unive^ 
sality,  generally  regarded  as  the  principal  mark  of  the  moral  na- 
ture of  precepts,  is  plainly  inapplicable  ;  and  it  is  altogether  pro- 
bable, that  these  precepts  will  nave  no  existence  in  any  world,  but 
this.     Limited  moral  precepts  are  those,  which  require  the  duties, 
arising  from  such  relations  and  circumstances,  as  exist  only  for 
.        limited  periods,  or  among  certain  classes  or  divisions  of  Rational 
beings.     Thus  various  moral  precepts  found  in  the  judicial  law  of 
Mosts  obligated  to  obedience  none  but  the  people  of  that  nation, 
and  strangers  dwelling  among  them.     Thus,  also,  he,  who  has  no 
I>arents,  is  not  required  to  perform  the  duties,  enjoined  upon  a 


i 


C7.]  OF  THE  SABBATH.  225 

child ;  *he,  who  has  no  wife,  those  required  of  a  husband ;  and  he, 
who  has  no  children,  those  demanded  of  a  father. 

Positive  precepts  are  such,  as  require  conduct  of  moral  beines, 
which,  antecedently  to  the  promulgation  of  them,  was  not  their  du^ 
ty ;  and,  independently  of  them,  would  never  have  become  their 
duty ;  but  would  have  remained  for  ever  a  matter  of  indifference. 
It  oueht  to  be  observed  here,  that  some  precepts  are  considered  as 
merely  positive,  because  the  duties,  enjoined  by  them,  were  un- 
known, and  would  have  continued  unknown,  to  those,  of  whom 
they  are  required,  independently  of  the  publiQation  of  the  pre- 
cepts. These  precepts,  however,  are  no  less  «f  a  mofal  naturei 
than  if  the  duties,  which  they  enjoin,  and  the  relations  from  which 
those  duties  spring,  had  always  been  perfectly  known.  A  precept 
of  a  merely  positive  nature  creates  a  duty,  which,  but  for  tne  pre- 
cept, would  not  exist ;  which  dpes  not  depend  for  its  existence  oq 
the  nature  of  the  relations,  sustained  by  the  suliject  as  a  Rational 
bein^ ;  but  is  intended  to  promote  some  useful,  incidental  purpose, 
and  IS  not  due,  nor  demanded  from  the  subject  in  other  cases,  al- 
though sustaining  exactly  the  same  relations.  Thus  the  precept, 
requiring  the  building  of  booths  at  the  passover,  may  be  considered 
as  a  positive  precept.  Thus  also  many  others,  enjoining  particular 
parts  of  the  Jewish  ritual. 

Secondly ;  The  precept  contained  in  the  text  is  accordinfl;  to 
these  definitions  a  moral,  and  not  a  positive,  precept*  The  Sabbath 
was  instituted  for  the  following  ends. 

It  was  intended  to  give  the  laborious  classes  of  mankind  aa  op- 
portunity of  resdng  from  toil* 

It  was  intended  to  be  a  commemoration  of  the  wisdom,  power, 
and  goodness  of  God  in  the  Creation  of  the  universe. 

It  was  intended  to  furnish  an  opportunity  of  increasing  holmeas 
in  man,  while  in  a  state  of  innocence. 

It  was  intended  to  furnish  an  opportunity  to  fiilen  man  of  ae- 
qoiring  holiness)  and  of  obtaining  salvation. 

In  every  one  of  these  respects,  the  Sabbath  is  equally  usieAiL 
important,  and  necessary,  to  every  chiM  o(  Aiam.  it  was  no 
more  necessary  to  a  Jew  to  rest  after  the  labour  of  six  days  waft 
ended,  than  to  any  other  man.  It  was  no  more  necessary  to  a 
Jew  to  commemorate  the  perfections  of  God,  displayed  in  the 
work  of  creation  ;  it  was  no  more  necessary  to  a  Jew  to.  gain  holi- 
ness, or  to  increase  it;  it  is  no  more  necessary  to  a  Jem  to  seek, 
or  to  obtain,  salvation.  Whatever  makes  either  of  these  things 
interesting  to  a  Jew  in  any  degree,  makes  then^  in  the  same  d^. 
eree  interesting  to  every  otner  man.  The  nature  of  the  commandi 
Uj^refore,  teacnes,  as  plainly  as  tiie  nature  of  a  command  ca* 
teach,  that  it  is  of  universal  application  to  mankinds  It  has  ihea 
this  great  criterion  of  a  moral  precept :  viz*  univenality  of  appli- 
catioiu 

Vol.  m.  29 


226  ^^"^^  P£RP£TUnT  [SIB.  Cf . 

That  it  is  the  duty  of  all  men  to  commemorate  the  perfections 
of  God,  displayed  in  the  work  of  creation,  cannot  be  questioned. 
Every  living  man  is  bound  to  contemplate,  understand,  and  adore, 
these  perfections.  But  we  cannot  know  them  in  the  abstract ;  or 
as  they  exist  merely  in  Him.  We  learn  them^  only  as  displayed 
in  his  Works,  and  in  his  Word.  We  are  bound,  therefore,  to  learn 
them,  as  thus  displayed ;  and  that  in  proportion  to  the  clearness 
and  glory  of  the  display.  The  clearness  and  glory,  with  which 
these  perfections  are  manifested  in  the  work  of  creation,  are  tran- 
scendently  CTeat ;  and  demand  from  all  creatures  a  contemplation 
proportionally  attentive,  and  an  adoration  proportionally  exalted. 
To  commemorate  this  glorious  work,  therefore,  is  a  plam  and  im- 
portant duty  of  all  men  :  this  being  the  peculiar  service  demanded 
of  them  by  his  character,  and  his  relation  to  them  as  their  Creator. 
But  this  commemoration  was  the  original  and  supreme  object  of 
the  command.  It  cannot  be  denied,  that  this  is  a  moral  service  ; 
nor  that  the  precept  reauiring  it,  is  a  moral  precept. 

To  perform  this  service  in  the  best  manner,  is  also,  as  much  a 
moral  duty,  as  to  perform  it  at  all.  If  any  duty  be  not  performed 
in  the  best  manner ;  it  is  only  performed  in  part :  the  remainder 
being  of  course  omitted.  But  no  words  can  be  necessary  to 
prove,  that  we  are  equally  obliged  to  perform  one  part  of  a  duty 
as  another. 

If  we  know  not,  and  cannot  know,  the  best  manner ;  we  are 
invariably  bound  to  choose  the  best  which  we  do  know.  If,  how- 
ever, the  best  manner  be  made  known  to  us ;  we  are  invariably 
obliged  to  adopt  it,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  others. 

Tne  best  manner,  in  the  present  case,  is  made  known  to  us  in 
this  Command.  We  are  assured,  that  it  is  the  best  manner,  by 
the  fact,  that  God  has  chosen  it.  No  man  can  doubt  whether 
God's  manner  is  the  best ;  nor  whether  it  is  his  own  duty  to 
adopt  it  rather  than  any  other.  This  manner  is  a  commemora- 
tion of  the  perfections  of  God,  thus  disclosed,  on  one  day  in 
seven. 

That  a  particular  day,  or  set  time,  should  be  devoted  to  this  im- 
poilant  purpose,  is  inuispensable.  The  duty  is  a  social  one ;  in 
which  theRational  creatures  of  God,  in  this  world,  are  universaUy 
to  unite.  But  unless  a  particular  day  were  set  apart  for  this  duty, 
the  union  intended  would  be  impossible. 

It  is  of  the  last  importance,  that  the  day  should  be  appointed  by 
God.  Men  would  not  agree  on  any  particular  day.  If  they  should 
agree,  it  would  always  be  doubtful  whether  the  time  chosen  b^ 
them  was  the  best ;  and  the  day  appointed  by  men,  would  have 
neither  authority,  sacredness,  nor  sanction.  In  a  matter,  merely 
of  human  institution,  all,  who  pleased,  would  dissent ;  and  in  such 
a  world  as  ours,  most,  or  all,  would  choose  to  dissent.  The 
whole  duty,  therefore,  would  be  left  undone ;  and  the  glorious  per* 
fections  of  God,   unfolded  in  the  work  of  Creation,  would  be 


9* 


SER.  CV.]  OF  TH£  8ABBATB.  t^f 

wholly  forgotten.  This  precept  is,  also,  entirely  of  a  moral  na- 
ture,  as  to  the  whole  End,  at  which  it  aims,  so  fiatr  as  man  is  con- 
cerned. This  End,  is  the  attainment,  and  the  increase,  of  holi- 
ness. Of  every  man  living,  and  of  every  man  alike,  this  is  the 
highest  interest,  and  the  highest  duty.  To  this  end,  as  to  the  for- 
mer, which  is  indeed  inseparably  united  with  this,  the  Sabbath  is 
indispensable. 

The  Sabbath  is 'eminently  moral,  also,  as  the  indispensable  means 
of  preserving  in  the  world  a  real  and  voluntary  ooedience  of  all 
the  other  commands  in  the  Decalogue.  Wherever  the  Sabbath 
is  not.  Religion  dies  of  course ;  and  Morality  of  every  kind,  except . 
so  far  as  convenience  and  selfishness  may  keep  the  forms  of  it 
alive,  is  forgotten.  But  all  those  means,  which  are  indispensable 
to  the  existence  of  Morality,  or,  in  better  language,  Religion,  are 
themselves  of  a  moral  nature,  and  of  universal  obligation ;  since 
without  them,  nothing  moral  could  exist. 

It  makes  no  diflference,  here,  whether  we  could  have  known^ 
without  information  from  God;  that  one  day  in  seven  would  be  the 
best  time ;  and  furnish  the  best  manner  of  performing  these  things, 
or  not.     It  is  sufficient,  that  we  know  it  now. 

Thus  the  fourth  Command  is  of  a  really  moral  nature,  no  less 
Aan  the  others  ;  and  as  truly  of  incalculable  importance,  and  in- 
dispensable obligation,  to  all  the  children  of  Adam.  Its  place 
in  the  decalogue,  therefore,  was  given  it  with  consummate  pro- 
priety :  and  what  God  liath  joined  together,  let  not  man  put 
astuider» 

If  it  were  intended  to  abolish  a  conunand,  given  so  plainly,  and 
with  circumstances  of  such  amazing  solemnity ;  the  abrogation 
would,  undoubtedly,  have  been  communicated  in  a  manner, 
eoually  clear  with  that,  in  which  the  command  itself  was  origin- 
ally given.  But  the  Scriptures  contain  nothing,  which  resembles 
an  abrogation  of  it,  communicated  either  clearly,  or  obscurely. 
When  Christ  abolished  the  ceremonial  and  civil  laws  of  the 
Jews^  so  far  as  they  mieht  be  thought  to  extend  to  the  Gentiles  ;  and 
taught  the  true  moral  system  of  the  Old  Testament ;  and  when 
the  Apostles  afterwards  completed  the  Evangelical  account  of 
this  subject :  it  is,  I  think,  incredible,  that,  if  this  precept  were 
to  be  abolished  at  all,  neither  he,  nor  they,  should  give  a  single 
hint  concerning  the  abolition.  As  both  have  left  it  Just  where 
they  found  it,  without  even  intimating,  that  it  was  at  all  to  be  an- 
nulled ;  we  may  reasonably  conclude,  that  its  obligation  has  never 
been  lessened. 

In  the  mean  time,  it  ought  to  be  observed,  that  many  other  pre- 
cepts, comprised  in  the  Mosaic  law,  which  are  universally  acknowl- 
edged to  be  of  a  moral  nature,  were  nevertheless  not  introduced 
into  the  Decalogue  ;  were  not  spoken  by  the  voice  of  Go^l ;  nor 
written  with  his  nnger ;  nor  placed  on  the  tables  of  stone,  fashioned 
by  himself.     Why  was  this  supreme  distinction  made  in  favour  off 


jgg  THE  PERFETVITT  [SER.  CV 

the  precept,  now  under  discussion  ?  This  question  I  may  perhaps 
answer  more  particularly  hereafter.  It  Is  sufficient  to  observe  at 
present,  that  it  arose  solely  from  the  superior  importance  of  the 
precept  itself. 

2.  Thr  Perpttual  Establishment  of  the  Sabbath  U  evident  fromilt 
Original  Inatilittion. 

Of  [his  we  have  the  following  account  in  Genesis  ii.  1 — 3.  T/aa 
thi  .hcavejts  and  the  earth  mere  finished,  and  all  the  host  iif  them. 
And  on  the  seventh  day  God  tnaed  his  work,  lehich  he  had  madt. 
And  God  blessed  the  seventh  dmf  and  tanctijifd  it  ;  because  that  in  U 
he  had  reated/rom  all  his  viorlc,  tahtch  God  created  and  made.  The 
proofs  which  this  passage  affords  for  the  perpetuity  of  the  Sabbatii, 
Kspect  the  lime,  and  the  end,  of  the  Institution. 

The  time  of  the  Institution  was  the  seventh  day,  after  the  crea- 
tion was  begun,  and  the  first  day,  after  it  was  ended.  At  this 
time,  none  of  the  human  race  were  in  being,  but  our  first  parents. 
For  them  the  Sabbath  was  instituted  ;  and  clearly,  therefore,  for 
€l11  their  posterity  also.  If  it  was  not  instituted  for  all  their  poster- 
ity, it  was  not  instituted  for  any  of  them :  for,  certainly,  there  can 
be  no  reason  given,  why  it  was  instituted  for  one  more  than  anoth- 
er. The  Jews,  particularly,  were  no  more  nearly  connected 
with  Adam,  than  we  are  ;  and  no  more  interested  in  any  thing, 
commanded  to  him,  than  are  the  Gentiles.  Accordingly,  it  it, 
so  far  as  I  know,  universally  conceded,  that,  if  the  Sabbath  vra* 
instituted  at  this  time,  it  is  obligatory  on  all  men  to  the  end  df  the 
world. 

The  resting  of  God  on  this  day,  alleged  in  the  text  as  a  primary 
and  authoritative  reason,  why  the  Sabbath  should  be  kept  holy, 
is  a  reason  extending  to  all  men  alike.  In  my  own  view  it  iS  in- 
credible, that  God  shouldrest  on  this  day,  to  furnish  an  example, 
to  the  Jeioish  nation  merely,  of  observing  the  Sabbath  ;  or  that  so 
solemn  a  transaction,  as  this,  in  its  own  nature  aifecting  the  whole 
human  race  alike,  should  be  intentionally  confined  in  its  intlueoce 
to  a  ten  thousandth  part  of  mankind.  The  example  of  God,  so  (ar 
as  it  is  iniitable,  is  in  its  very  nature  authoritative,  and  obligatory 
on  everv  Inlelligenlcreature  ;  and  in  the  present  case,  plaiiHy,  on 
lie  whole  human  race.  For  man  to  limit  it,  where  God  himself  has 
■i»t  been  pleased  (o  limit  it,  is  evidently  unwarrantable,  and  inde- 
fensible. 

The  End  of  the  institution  plainly  holds  out  the  same  universality 
of  obligation.  I  have  already  observed,  that  this  is  two-fold  ;  viz« 
to  commemorate  the  glory  of  God,  displayed  in  the  creation ;  and 
to  attain,  and  increase,  holiness  in  the  soul  of  man.  I  have  also 
abserved  that  all  men  are  alike  interested  in  both  these  objecU- 
Nor  can  there  be  a  single  pretence,  that  any  nation,  or  any  person* 
s  more  intcreslcd  in  either,  than  any  other  person  or  nation.  Every 
.ndividual  stands  in  exactly  the  same  relations  to  God ;  is  under 


or  THE  SABBATH-  22g 


eiacdf  ihe  same  obligationt :  and  is  bound,  in  ihis  case,  to  duties 
exaclly  the  same. 

3.  The  PiTpttuity  of  tht  Sabbath  M  clearly  taught  in  Isaiah  Ivi. 
6—8. 

Aho  the  tons  of  the  strangtr,  thai  join  themsthts  to  the  Lord,  to 
terce  him,  and  (o  lovt  tht  name  of  the  Lord,  to  be  hi)  servants  ;  every 
one  thai  kecpelh  the  Sabbath  from  polluting  H,  and  laketh  koldofmy 
covenant ;  Even  them  jdUI  I  bring  to  my  holy  mountain,  and  make 
thtmjoyftti  in  my  home  of  prayer ;  their  bumt-offtrings  and  their 
gaerifiees  shall  be  acceptable  on  mg  altar  :  for  my  house  shall  be  call- 
ed. An  house  of  prayer  for  all  people.  The  Lord  God,  who  gather- 
tth  the  outcasts  of  Israel,  saith,  Yet  will  I  gather  others  to  him,  beside 
those  that  are  gathered  unto  him. 

From  this  passage  it  is  evident,  that,  when  the  house  of  God  shall 
become  a  bouse  of  prayer  for  all  people,  and  when  the  outcasts  of 
krael,  and  others  beside  them,  shall  be  gathered  unto  him,  that  is, 
Christ;  then  the  Sabbath  shall  continue  a  divine  institution;  that 
it  shall  be  a  duty  to  keep  it  from  polluting  it;  and  that  those  who 
keep  it,  particularly  the  sons  of  the  stranger ;  or  the  Gentile  na- 
tions; shall  be  accepted  and  blessed  in  thus  keeping  it,  and  shall 
be  made  joyful  in  God's  house  of  prayer. 

But  the  house  of  God  was  never,  in  any  sense,  called  An  house 
of  prayer  for  all  people,  until  after  the  dispensation  of  the  Gospel 
began:  viz.  until  the  house  of  God  was  found  wherever  tmo  or 
three  met  together  in  the  name  of  Christ ;  until  the  periodj  when 
mankind  were  to  worship  God,  neilher  in  Jerusalem,  nor  in  the 
vumritain  of  Samaria,  but  wherever  they  worshipped  in  spirit  and  in 
truth.  Under  this  dispensation,  therefore,  the  Sabbath  was  still 
to  continue  a  divine  institution ;  was  to  be  kept  free  from  pollu- 
tion; and  the  keeping  of  it  was  to  be  blessed,  according  to  the 
declarations  of  the  unerring  Spirit  of  prophecy. 

This  prediction  is  a  part  of  the  uncnangeable  counsels  of  Jeho- 
T»B.  It  could  not  hove  been  written,  unFess  it  had  been  true.  It 
could  not  have  been  true,  unless  fulfilled  by  this  very  observation 
of  the  Sabbath.  The  Sabbath  could  not  have  been  thus  observed, 
and  men  could  not  have  been  thus  blessed  in  observing  it,  ujiless, 
«  the  very  time  of  this  observance,  it  had  still  remained  an  Insti- 
lation  of  God.  For  God  himself  has  declared,  that  mankind  ihtM 
not  add  to  his  words,  nor  diminish  ought  from  thejn;  and  thai,  ii^ 
Stead  of  blessing  those,  who  add  to  the  words  written  in  the  Scrip- 
lures,  he  will  add  to  them  the  plagues,  which  are  written  in  the 
Scriptures,  But  to  add  to  the  Institutions  of  God  is  to  add  to  his 
fFord  in  die  most  arrogant  and  guilty  manner.  If  the  Sabbath  be 
ntrt  now  a  divine  institution ;  be,  who  observes  it  aa  such,  adds  to 
the  Institutions  of  God,  and  is  grossly  guilty  of  this  arrogance. 
He  may,  ther-fore,  certainly  as  well  as  justly,  expect  to  find  a 
cuise,  and  not  a  blessing  ;  to  be  destroved  with  a  more  terrible 
destruction,  than  that  which  J^adab  ana  Abihu  experienced,  fcg- 


i 


1 


m 

m 

fSO  THE  PERPETUmr    '.  [SER.  (Bl. 

'  adding  to  the  Institutions  of  God  one  of  their  owir,  of  a  hi  less 
extraordinary  and  guilty  nature. 

But  how  different  irom  all  this  has  been  the  fact !  How  exact- 
ly, as  well  as  gloriously,  has  this  prediction  been  fulfilled  I  God 
has  really  gathered  unto  Christ  others,  beside  the  outcasts  of  Israel, 
The  Gentiles,  the  sons  of  the  stranger,  have,  in  immense  multitudes, 
joined  themselves  to  the  Lord.  They  have  served  him.  They  have 
loved  his  name.  They  Iiave  kept  the  Sabbath  from  polluting  it. 
They  have  taken  hold  of  his  covenant.  They  have  been  made  jot/' 
ful  in  his  house  of  prayer :  and  their  sacrifices,  and  their  burnt- 
offerings,  have  been  accepted  upon  his  altar :  and  his  house  fias  been 

.  called  an  house  of  prayer  for  all  people.  Thus,  as  Isaiah  predicted, 
there  has  actually  been  a  Sabbath  under  the  dispensation  of  the 
Gospel,  remaining  now  for  almost  eighteen  hundred  years ;  and 
this.  Sabbath  has  been  attended  with  the  peculiar  blessings,  pre- 
dicted by  this  Evangelical  Prophet. 

4.  The  Perpetuity  of  the  Sabbath  is  fairly  argued  from  Psalm 
cxviii.  1 9 — 26. 

Open  to  me  the  gates  of  righteousness  :  I  zoill  go  into  them  ;  and 
I  will  praise  the  Lord.  This  gate  of  the  Lord,  into  which  the  right- 
eous shall  enter.  I  will  praise  thee  :  for  thou  hast  heard  me,  and 
art  become  my  salvation.  The  Stone,  which  the  builders  refused,  is 
become  the  head-stone  of  the  comer.  This  is  the  Lord?s  doing  ;  and 
it  is  marvellous  in  our  eyes.  This  is  the  day,  which  the  Lord  hath 
made.  We  will  rejoice,  and  be  glad,  in  it.  Save  now,  I  beseech 
thee,  0  Lord :  0  Lord,  I  beseech  thee,  send  now  prosperity  !  Bless- 
ed be  he,  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  We  have  blessed  you 
out  of  the  house  of  the  Lord. 

This  Psalm,  particularly  the  prophecy  contained  in  these  words, 
is  explained  by  St.  Peter,  as  referring  to  Christ ;  the  true  head- 
stone of  the  corner,  rejected  by  the  Jewish  builders  ;  and,  of  course, 
as  referring  to  the  times  of  the  Christian  dispensation.  In  these 
times,  then,  there  was  to  be  a  day,  which  the  Lord  had  made) 
not  in  the  literal  sense  ;  for  in  this  sense  he  had  made  all  days; 
but  in  the  spiritual  sense;  that  is,  a  day,  which  he  had  sanctified; 
consecrated  to  himself;  devoted  fo  his  own  worship ;  of  a  common 
and  secular  day,  made  into  a  holy  and  religious  one.  It  was  a  dajj 

i  on  which  the  gales  of  righteousness  were  to  be  opened :  that  is,  tne 
gates  of  the  sanctuary,  or  house  of  God  ;  and  styled  the  gate,  or 

fates,  of  the  Lord.  It  wis  a  day,  on  which  the  righteous,  as  a 
ody,  were  to  enter  into  th  m.  It  was  the  day,  on  wnnich  the  Lord 
became  their  Salvation.  1 1  was  the  day,  on  which  the  Stone,  ^^ 
jected  by  the  builders,  became  the  headstone  of  the  comer.  It  was  a 
day,  on  yvh'ich  prayers  were  to  be  offered  up,  and  praises  to  be  swfig 
to  God.  Finally,  it  was  a  day,  in  which  the  righteous  were  to  f»" 
ceive  blessings  from  the  house  of  the  Lord. 

All  my  audience  must  have  anticipated  the  conclusion,  as  flow- 
ing irresistibly  even  from  this  slight  examination  of  the  passage* 


i 


SIB.  CV.J 


OF  THE  SABBATH. 


331 


thai  ikU  no*  a  day,  dfooted  to  religious  employments,  and  parlicu- 
larly  to  thepvhtic  tporship  of  God.  It  is  equariy  evident,  thai  il  is 
t/w  dar/,  on  akick  Christ  argse  from  the  dead,  or,  in  other  words, 
iecame  tfu  head-stone  oflhecomer.  It  is,  therefore,  ()tt  Sabbathf 
ike  only  day,  ever  devoted  to  purposes  of  this  natiTre  by  the  au* 
thorily  of  Inspiration.  It  is  a  Sabbath,  also,  existing  vnder  the  Goi- 
pel  or  ajler  the  resurrection  of  Christ.  Of  course,  il  is  to  continue 
10  the  end  of  the  world ;  for  ail  the  insiiiutions,  which  exist  under 
the  Gospel,  arc  perpetual. 

5.   The  Perpetual  Establishment  of  the  Sabbath,  is  evident  from 
Revelation  i.  W,  I  vias  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord^i  day. 

The  book  of  Revelation  was  probably  wrilien  about  the  year 
96,  and  of  course  many  years  after  the  resurrection  of  Chrisl.     At 
this  time,   there  was  a  day,  generally  known  to  Christians  by  the 
name  of  the  Lord^s  day.     Il  was  also  enlilled  the  Lord's  day  by 
the  pen  of  St,  John,  under  the  immediate  influence  of  Inspiration. 
It  was,  therefore,  so  called  with  the  approbation  of  the  Spirit  of 
truth.     But  this  could  not  have  been,  unless  it  had  been  originally 
instituted  by  God  himself.     That  the  Apostle,  in  this  manner  of 
ffleDtioaing  it,  accords  intentionally  wilh  this  denomination,  as  be- 
ing the  proper  one,  will,  I  presume,  not  be  disputed ;  because  ihe 
contrary  supposition  would  make  him  lend  his  own  sanction  to  a 
fulse,  as  well  as  an  unai;thorizcd,  denomination  of  this  day,  and  to 
thefalte  doctrine  invalid'  d  m  it  ;  viz.  that  there  was  a  day,  con$e- 
erated  aith propriety  to  Ike  Lord,  or,  in  other  words,  consecrated  ijy 
divmt  appointment :  since  no  other  consecration  of  it  would  have 
any  propriety.     If  this  doctrine  was   false,  as  according  to  the 
sopposition  it  must  be,  it  could  not  fail  to  prove  in  a  high  degree 
dangerous  ;  as  it  would  naturally  lead  all,  who  read  this  book,  to 
hola  a  Religious  Institution  as  established  by  God,  which  he  had 
not  in  fact  aiipointed;  and  thus,  by  worshipping  him  according  to 
the  commandments  of  men,  to  worship  him  m  vain.     The  guilt,  and 
the  mischiefs,  of  this  doctrine,  thus  received  and  obeyed,  would  be 
incomprehensible.   The  Spirit  of  truth,  who  directed  the  pen  of  St. 
JitAn,  cannot  have  sanctioned  this  doctrine,  unless  it  was  true ;  nor 
liSTe  given  this  denomination  to  the  day  spoken  of,  unless  it  was 
giren  by  the  will  of  God. 

There  was,  therefore,  at  the  period  specified,  and  under  the  Gos- 

Sil,  a  day  holden  by  the  Apostle,  by  Christians  generally,  and  by 
od  himself,  as  the  Lord's  day ;  or  a  day,  peculiarly  consecrated 
to  Christ,  the  Lord  mentioned  by  St.  John  in  this  passage.  There 
U  now,  there  has  always  been,  but  one  such  day;  and  but  one 
manner,  in  which  a  day  can  be  the  Lord's.  This  day  is  the  Sab- 
bath ;  a  holy,  heavenly  rest  from  every  sinful,  and  every  secular 
concern.  It  is  his,  by  being  authoriialively  appropriated  to  his 
we  by  himself;  and  by  his  requiring  mankind,  whenever  it  reluma, 
lo  consecrate  their  time,  their  talents,  and  themselves,  to  his  im- 


,#.. 


.^- 


^933  THE  PERPETUITT  m.  [SER.  CT. 

mediate  service  and  reFigious  worship.    As,  then,  there  was  such  a 
day,  a  day  consecrated  to  the  Lord,  a  Sabbath,  at  the  time  when 
the  Revefation  of  St.  John  was  written ;  sf  this  day  is  perpetually 
established.     For,  every  institution  under  the  Gospel,  the  last  dis- 
pensation of  God  to  mankind,  will  remain  in  full  force  to  the  end 
of  the  world. 


"^ 


i»» 


f 


« 


•»^^-*x 


^> 


» ■• 


SERMON  CVI. 

rOURTH   COMMANDMENT. THE   PERPETUITT   AND   CHAVOB 

or  THE 'sabbath. 


t. 


II.8— 11. — Remember  the  Sabbaih  day,  to  k^  U  /kd|MMfc  dloyt  aktS* 
ilMor,  and  do  all,  thy  work :  But  the  seventh  day  it  the  tfMM  of  the  iAfd 
d;  in  it  thou  thalt  not  do  any  worky  thou,  nor  thy  ton,  nor  thy  daughter^  tfty 
tnantf  nor  thy  maid  servantf  nor  thy  cattle,  nor 'thy  etranger  that  it  wHi& 
ttt;  For  in  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  tea,  and  alt  that  w 
L  dad  retted  the  teventh  day  ;  wherefore  the  Lord  bletHd  the  Sabbath  day^ 

he  preceding  discourse,  from  these  words,  I  propose^  to 
r. 

le  Perpetual  EstahlUhmtnt  of  the  Sabbath;  and, 
\e  Manner,  in  which  it  is  to  be  observed* 
Brst  of  these  propositions  I  examined,  at  some  length,  in 
M)urse  :  and  snail  now  go  on  to  offer  some  additionahitier^ 
ionceming  the  same  subject*     If  ihave  proved,  as  I  flatter 
I  have,  that  the  Sabbath- is  an  Institution^  designed  to  last  to 
of  the  world  ;  it  will  naturally  occur  to  my*  audience,  as  a 
.  of  prime  importance  in  the  consideration  of  this  subject, 
8  it,  that  you  and  other  Christians,  instead  of  observiigih^ 
originally*  instituted,  keep  another  day  as  the  SabbfS;  a  ' 
which  no  mention  was  made;,  in  the  Institution,  and  f6r  the 
\  observation  of  which  we  find  no  express  command  either 
Id  or  New  Testament  ?*'  .  .:g;. 

question  is  certainly  asked  with  uixd>jectionable  propriety; 
Ainly  demands  a  candid  and  sadsractory  answer.  Such, 
er  I  will  now  endeavour  to  give. 

nquestionably  true,  that  the  .Institution,  whatever  it  is,  is 
:en  as  we  find  it  in  the  Scriptures ;  and  that  men  are  in  no 
JO  change  it.  He,  who  made  it,  is  the  only  bein^  in  the 
I  who  has  the  right  to  abrogate,  or  to  alter,  that  wnich  he 
e.  As  we  find  it,  then,  in  tne  Scriptures,  we  are  bound  to 
whether  agreeable  to  our  own  ideas  of  wisdom  and  pro- 

pnot.  ... 

er  to  explain  my  own  views  of  this  subject^  it  will  be  use- 
serve,  that  this  institution  obviously  consists  of  two  ports  ; 
Uhj  or  holi/ rest ;  and  the  Day,  on  which  it  is  holdm.  Theses 
ly  alluded  to,  as  distinct  from  each  other,  in  the  text ; 
is  said,  The  Lord  rested  the  seventh  day,  and  blessed  the 
day,  and  hallowed  it*  This  language  is  chosen  of  design  ; 
II.  30 


r. 


.  *. 


.■  ,  234  THE  rERFETUrrr  AND  '^oAl  CVL 

and  as  I  apprehend,  with  a  propriety,  intentionally  instructive  tout, 
God  did  not  bless  the  seventh  day,  nor  hallow  it  as  the  seventh  day; 
hut  only  as  being  the  day  on  which  the  Sabbath,  or  tlie  Iwly  rest,  was 
to  be  kept*  Were  the  Sabbath,  then,  warrantably  to  be  kept,  at 
different  periods,  cm  each  of  the  days  of  the  week ;  the  blessing 
would  follow  it,  on  whatever  day  it  was  holden. 

It  was  plain  then,  that  the  Sabbath,  being  a  thing  entirely  distinct 
firom  the  dEow  on  which  it  is  kept,  may  be  a  perpetual  institution ; 
and  yet  be  Kept,  if  God  should  so  order  it,  on  any,  or  successive- 
'  ly  on  all,  the  davs  of  the  week.  If,  then,  the  diay,  on  which  the 
Sabbath  was  to  be  holden,  should  by  divine  appointment  be  a  dif* 
ferent  one  from  that,  which  was  originally  ^tablished ;  the  Sab- 
bath itself,  the  substance  of  the  Institution,  might  still  remain  the 
same.  All,  that  would  be  changed,  would  plainly  be  a  given  day 
of  the  week ;  a  thing  perfectly  circumstantial ;  and  of  no  other 
importance  than  that,  which  circumstances  gave  it. 

The  day,  I  say,  might  be  altered  without  altering  at  all  the  svb- 
stance  of  the  Institution.  Still  it  could  be  altered  only  by  divine 
appointment.  The  same  authority,  which  instituted  the  Sabbath, 
appointed  also  the  day,  on  which  it  was  to  be  holden :  and  do 
other  authority  is  competent  to  change  either  in  any  degree.  Ifl 
then,  we  cannot  find  in  the  Scriptures  plain  and  ample  proofs  of 
an  abrogation  of  the  original  day ;  or  the  substitution  of  a  new  one; 
the  day  undoubtedly  remains  in  full  force  and  obligation,  and  is 
now  religiously  to  be  celebrated  by  all  the  race  of  Adam.  It  shall 
be  the  business  of  this  discourse  to  collect  to  a  point  the  light, 
which  the  Scriptures  afford  us  concerning  this  important  subject. 

1.  The  nflture  of  the  subject  furnishes  room  to  suppose,  that  th 
day,  on  which  the  Sabbath  was  to  be  celebrated  under  the  Christian 
dispensation,  might  be  a  different  one  from  that,  which  was  origin^ 
ally  appointed. 

The  End  of  tKe  Institution,  mentioned  in  the  text,  is  the  Com- 
memoration of  the  glory^inf  God  in  the  Creation  of  the  world.  The 
reason,  why  God  chose,  that  the  manifestation  of  himself  in  that 
wonderful  work  should  be  commemorated,  rather  than  that  which 
was  made  in  the  Deluge,  or  the  deliverance  of  the  Israelites  fix© 
the  bondage  of  Egypt,  was,  it  is  presumed,  the  peculiar  ^reatnest 

Xthe  work  itself,  and  of  the  display,  which  it  furnished  of  his  per* 
:tions.  If  this  be  admitted,  as  it  probably  will  be  by  evciy 
sober  man ;  it  must  also  be  admitted,  that  we  ought,  according 
to  this  scheme,  to  expect  any  other  work  of  God,  of  still  greater 
importance,  and  more  glorious  to  the  divine  character,  than  the 
Creation  itself  to  be  commemorated  with  equal  or  greater  solem- 
nity. But  the  Work  of  Redemption,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  styled 
in  the  Scriptures,  the  Kew  Creation,  is  a  more  glorious  work,  than 
that  of  creating  the  heavens  and  the  earth.  This  doctrine  WSXJ 
be  elucidated  by  the  following  considerations. 


CHANGE  OF  THE  BABBATH. 

In  liie  first  place,  The  agtnt  m  both  these  morh  is  the 


^ 


In  (tie  hrst  place,  J  he  agent  m  both  these  morks  u  the  same.  St. 
Paul  expressly  declares,  Thai  Christ  in  the  beginning  laid  the 
fminiliHiom  ofthecarlhi  thai  the  heavens  are  the  vtirk  of  bis  hands  ; 
Heb.  i.  lG;Aa<l  thai  all  things,  visible  and  tnsisible^  wtre  created 
by  hun.  and  for  him.  Col.  i.  IG.  St.  John,  also,  leaches  us,  ihai 
all  things  were  ntade  by  him;  and  that  without  him  there  jeas  noi 
one  thing  made,  which  has  existed.  John  i.  3.  Tht'tame  Person 
therrfore,  it  honoured  in  a  commemoration  of  both  these  wonder- 
ful norks. 

Secondly;  The  End  of  a  work,  that  is,  the  reason  for  which  His 
dmu,  is  of  more  importance,  than  the  work  itielf,  1  his  Inith  will 
be  admitted  on  all  hands.  No  Intelligent  being,  who  claims  the 
chaiacter  of  wisdom,  ever  iiiidETiakeB  a  work  without  an  end  suf- 
ficiently important  to  justify  the  means,  adopted  for  its  accomplish- 
meni.  Much  less  will  tliis  be  supposed  of  God.  But  the  End  of 
Creation  is  Providence ;  and  of  ail  the  works  of  Providence,  the 
work  of  Redemption,  or  the  Kew  Creation,  is  incalculably  the  most 
importani ;  llie  hinge,  on  which  aif  the  rest  turn;  the  work,  to- 
ward>  the  completion  of  which  all  the  rest  ai-e  directed :  in  a  word, 
the  End  of  ihem  all.  Accordingly,  St.  Paul  says,  Who  created 
all  things  hy  Jesus  Christ,  to  the  intent,  that  now  unto  Principali' 
titi,  and  powers,  in  heavenly  places,  might  be  known,  hy  the  Church, 
4ke  manifold  wisdom  of  God.  The  display  of  the  Wisdom  of  God, 
by  the  Church,  in  the  work  of  Redemption,  was  therefore,  the  inlrnt, 
or  End,  for  which  all  things  were  created  by  Jesus  Christ.  "With- 
oot  the  work  of  Redemption,  then,  the  purpose  of  God  in  crealin|r 
all  things,  and  the  real  use  of  the  things  themselves,  would  have 
been  prevented. 

Thirdly  ;  The  superior  importance  of  the  Aeio  Creation  is  evident 
m  this  fact;  that  the  old  creation,  by  its  unceasing  changes,  con' 
ttnually  decays  and  degenerates,  while  the  .Affw  Creation  becomes  by 
it*  omn  changes  unceasingly  brighter  and,  belter. 

Fourthly;  The  old  criation  is  a  tnmaitory  work,  made  for  con- 
nanption  by  fre  :  whereas  the  ^ew  is  intended  for  elernttl  duration. 

Thus  from  the  Nature  of  the  case  there  la  ample  room  to  sup- 
pose, that  the  work  of  Redemption  might,  by  divine  appointment, 
be  commemorated  preferably  lo  ihe  work  of  creation. 

2.  It  is  expressly  foretold  by  the  Prophet  Isaiah,  that  the  Wort  i/ 
Redemption  ihall  be  commemorated  in  preference  to  the  work  of 
Creation.   Is.  '^v.  17,  18. 

For  behold,  sailh  God,  /  create  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth; 
.  and  the  former  shall  not  be  remembered,  neithtr  shall  it  come  into 
mind.  But  be  ye  glad,  and  rejoice  for  ever,  in  that  which  I  create  : 
for  lifhold  I  create  Jerusalem  a  rejoicing,  and  my  people  a  joy.  In 
dkis  passage  of  Scripture  we  are  informed,  that  God  designed  to 
create  what  in  the  first  of  these  verses  is  called  new  heavens  and  a 
new  earth.  This,  in  the  second  verse,  is  explained  in  simple  lan- 
f^uagc  ;  and  is  saw  to  be  creating  the  pee^le  of  God  a  joy  and  a  re* 


356  THE  PEBFETUITT  AND  [SEIL  GYL 

jotcing.     In  Other  words,  it  is  no  other  than  redeeming^  and  sanctu 
fyinff^  the  souls  of  men  ;  by  means  of  which  they  become  a  rejoictng 
to  God^  and  to  each  oiher. 

Ill  this  declaration  of  the  Prophet  there  are  two  things,  particu- 
larly claiming  our  attention.  The  first  is,  that  the  New  Creation, 
or  the  Work  of  Redemption,  is  of  far  croater  importance  in  the 
eye  of  God,  <han  the  former  creation.  The  second  is  an  express 
prediction,  that  the  former  creation  shall  not  be  remembered  by 
the  Church,  nor  come  into  mind ;  or,  in  other  words,  shall  not  hi 
commemorated.  This  I  understand,  as  almost  all  similar  Jewish 
phrases  are  to  be  understood,  in  a  comparative  sense  ;  ^nd  sup- 
pose the  Prophet  to  intend,  that  it  shall  be  far  less  remembered^ 
and  commemorated ;  as  being  of  far  less  importance. 

That  this  passage  refers  to  the  times  of  the  Evangelical  dispen- 
'  nation  is  certain  from  the  prediction  itself:  since  the  new  Creatiob 
IB  the  very  subject  of  it,  and  the  commencement  of  that  dispensa- 
tion.    It  is  equally  evident,  also,  from  the  whole  strain  of  the 
chapter. 

This  passage  appears  to  me  to  place  the  fact  in  the  clearest  light, 
that  a  particular,  superior,  and  extraordinarv  commemoration  of 
the  Work  of  Redemption  by  the  Christian  Church,  in  all  its  vari- 
ous aees,  was  a  part  of  the  good  pleasure  of  God  ;  and  was  de- 
•igiiod  by  him  to  oe  accomplished  in  the  course  of  his  providence." 
But  there  neither  is,  nor  ever  was,  any  public,  solemn  commemo- 
ration of  this  work  by  the  Christian  Church,  except  that,  which  is 
holdoji  on  the  first  day  of  the  week ;  or  the  day,  in  which  Christ 
completed  this  great  work  by  his  resurrection  from  the  dead. 
This  prophecy  has,  therefore,  been  unfulfilled,  so  far  as  I  see,  un- 
less it  has  been  fulfilled  in  this  very  manner.  But  if  it  has  been  ful- 
filled in  this  manner ;  then  this  manner  of  fulfilling  it  has  been  agree- 
able to  the  true  intention  of  the  Prophecy,  and  to  the  good  jilea- 
sure  of  God  expressed  in  it  5  and  is,  therefore,  that  very  part  of 
the  system  of  his  Providence,  which  is  here  unfolded  to  mapkini 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  the  former  Insti- 
tution is  still  substantially  preserved.  The  Sabbath  still  returns 
upon  one  day  in  seven.  The  great  fects,  that  in  six  days  the  Lord 
made  heaven  and  earthy  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  them  is,  and  rested 
the  seventh  day,  are  still  presented  to  the  mind  in  their  full  force* 
The  work  of  creating  the  heavens  and  the  earth  is,  therefore,  re- 

gilurly  commemorated,  according  to  the  original  institution  of 
otf:  while  the  New  Creation,  as  its  importance  demands,  and  as 
this  prophecy  directly  foretels,  takes  its  own  superior  place  in  the 
commemoration.  Thus  the  Institution,  instead  of  being  abrogated 
in  every  respect,  is  only  changed  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  enlarge 
its  usefulness  and  importance  to  mankind,  and  to  become  a  solemn 
memorial  of  two  wonderful  works  of  God,  instead  of  one.  Hie  Salh 
bath  itself  is  unchanged.  It  still  returns  at  the  end  of  seven  dajrs. 
It  is  still  a  memorial  of  the  Creation.   But  the  Institution  is  enlarg- 


CVL]  CHANGE  OF  THE  SABBATH.  337 

sd  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  commemorate,  also,  the  work  of  Re- 
iemntion. 

With  this  Prophecy  facts  have  corresponded  in  a  wonderful 
tnann<  r.  All  Christians  commemorate  tne  work  of  Creation  in 
their  prayers  and  praises,  their  religious  meditations  and  discourses, 
from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath.  But  every  Christian  perfectly  well 
knows,  that  the  work  of  Redemptipn  holds  a  far  higher  place  in 
every  private,  and  in  every  public,  religious  service  ;  and  that,  ac- 
cording to  the  declaration  of  God  in  this  passage,  the  former  is 
comparatively  not  remembered^  neither  does  it  come  into  mind.  At 
the  same  time,  the  Work  of  Redemption  is  not  merely  the  chief^ 
but  the  only,  meaniS  of  originating  holiness  in  the  soul,  and  alto- 
gether the  principal  means  of  advancing  it  towards  perfection.  In 
every  respect,  therefore,  the  Christian  Sabbath  is  now  better  suit- 
ed to  the  great  ends  of  the  Institution,  than  the  original  day.  Until' 
the  time  of  Christ's  resurrection,  the  seventh  day  commemwated 
the  most  glorious  work,  which  God  had  ever  accomplished,  and 
the  most  wonderful  display  of  the  divine  perfections.  But  by  the  ' 
resurrection  of  Christ,  a  new,  and  far  more  glorious,  work  was 
finished.  While  the  Sabbath,  therefore,  was  by  divine  appoint- 
ment kept  on  the  seventh  day,  it  was  exactly  suited  to  the  purpose 
of  commemorating  the  most  glorious  work  of  God,  which  had  ever 
taken  place.  But  after  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  the  first  day  of 
the  week  was  plainly  better  fitted,  than  any  other  day,  to  become 
a  religious  memorial  of  both  these  wonderful  works,  by  being  the 
day,  on  which  Christ  arose  fix)m  the  dead,  and  by  returning  reg- 
ularly at  the  end  of  every  six  days.  Whatever .  other  opmions 
we  adopt  concerning  this  subject,  it  must,  I  think,  be  readily  ao* 
knowledged,  that  no  other  day  could  possibly  combine  all  thpse 
advantages. 

This  important  consideration  seems  to  be  plainly  intimated  in 
the  text.  Remember  the  Sabbath  day,  to  keep  it  holy.  The  seventh 
iay  is  the  Sabbath.  In  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earthy 
Hu  sfa  and  all  that  in  them  is  ;  wherefore  the  Lord  blessed  the  StJh 
hath  day^  and  hallowed  it.  It  cannot  escape  the  notice  of  every 
leader  of  this  passage,  that  the  duty  of  remembering  the  Sabbath, 
to  keep  it  holy,  enjoined  at  the  bednning,  and  the  blessing  and 
consecration  mentioned  at  the  end,  are  applied  to  the  Sabbath, 
Ind  not  to  the  day ;  and  that  the  seventh  day  is  declared  to  be  the 
^abbalh  day^  or  the  day  on  which  the  Sabbath  is  to  be  holdcn. 
rhe  meaning  of  this  is  obviously,  that  the  seventh  day  is,  or  Waa 
Lt  that  time,  the  existing  day  of  the  Sabbath ;  without  determiniog 
low  long  it  should  continue  to  possess  this  character.  God  es- 
ablished  it  indefinitely ;  and  unless  he  should  be  pleased  to  change 
t,  perpetually,  as  the  day  of  the  Sabbath.  But  on  whatever  day 
le  should  think  fit  to  establish  the  Sabbath,  it  was  to  be  remember- 
nI,  and  kept  hoi  v.  The  blessing,  also,  and  the  sanctification, 
vere  annexed  to  the  Sabbath  day,  and  not  to  die  seventh.     In  thia 


>ii 


manner  tfta^Christian  Church  became  informed  of  their  duty,  when- 
ever the  day  should  be  changed ;  and,  if  they  perfonnea  it  faith- 
fully, were  assured  of  this  peculiar  blessing.  Thus,  also,  they 
were  preserved  firom  the  fears,  which  might  otherwise  arise,  of 
losing  the  blessing  annexed  to  the  Sabbath,  whenever  the  day,  on 
which  it  should  be  holden,  should  be  changed*  Had  the  blessing, 
in  this  command,  been  axvnexed  to  the  seventh  day,  it  would  prob- 
ably have  occasioned  an  inmiovable  perplexity  to  the  Chnstian 
Church,  bad  they  foiuid  the  present  account  of  the  Sabbath  con- 
tained in  the  New  Testament* 

3.  The  fyundredand  eighteenth  P^alm  ii  a  direct  prediction^  that 
the  dav  of  Christ^ s  resurrection  wai  4q  be  the  day  on  which  the  Sabbath 
ihovldht  holden  under  the  Goepeti^ 

iln  the  14tb  verse  of  this  Psahn  the  divine  writer  declares,  that 
the  Lord  is  his  strength^  and  hts  song  ;  and  is  become  his  salvation^ 
This  fact  we  know  was  accomplished,  when  Christ  rose*  from  the 
dead.  In  consequence  of  this  great  event,  he  hears  the  voice  of 
rejoicingj  and  of  salvation^  in  the  tabernacles  of  the  righteous  /  or  in 
the  house  of  God.  In  the  1 9th  verse,  he  says,  Open  to  me  the  gata 
of  righteousness  •  Iwillpraise  thee  ;  for  thou  hast  heard  me^  and  art 
become  my  salvation*  This  event  he  again  describes  in  a  new  and 
under  a  very  different  image  :  The  Stone  which  the  builders  refusedf 
is  become  the  headstone. of  the  comer.  He  then  subjoined.  This  it 
the  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made :  thait  is,  the  day  which  Christ 
consecrated,  or  made  into  a  holv  day,  when  he  became  the  head- 
stone  of  the  comer :  that  is,  when  he  arose  from  the  dead.  He  then 
adds,  We  will  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it:  that  is.  We,  the  Righteous; 
the  Church  of  God ;  (for  in  their  name  he  speaks  throughout  aO 
the  latter  PBit  of  this  rsahn,  whether  speaking  in  the  singular,  ot 

flural.)  In  their  name  he  says,  in  the  lollowing  verse.  Save  novy 
beseech  ih^j  O  Lord  !  0  Lord  !  J  beseech  thee^  send  now  prosperi- 
fy.  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Tne  words 
of  the  two  last  mentioned  verses  are  applied  directlv  to  Christ  by 
the  multiludes  who  accompanied  him  in  his  triumphal  entry  into 
Jerusalem.  The  multitudes j  saith  St.  Matthew j  cried^  ^aying^  Bsh 
Htnna  to  the  Son  of  David  I  ,  JSlessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of 
.  the*  Lord!  •  fhaanma  in  the  highest  I  The  words  of  the  last  verse 
are  also  applied  by  Cl^ist  to  himself,  Matt.  xxiv.  39,  For  I  say  unto 
youj  ye  snail  not  see  me  henceforth^  ^^[j/^  ^Aa//  say.  Blessed  is  hi 
that  cometh  in  the  name  pf  the  Lord.  The  comment  of  the  multi- 
tudes ia  reasonably  supposed  to  be  that  of  the  Jewish  Church  in 
general.  That  of  Christ,  and  that  of  St.  Peter,  mentioned  in  the 
TO^ecediog  discourse,  are  the  decisive  law  of  interpretation  to  the 
Christian  Church.  We  are,  therefore,  warranted  toconclude,that 
ibo  Psahnist  here  declares  not  only  the  joy  and  gladness  of  the 
Qmstian  Church  in  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  but  in  the  day  on 
which  he  arose :  for  he  says,  TTiis  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  halh 
WMtde^  we, wilt  rejtmp  a^nd  be^  glad  in  it.    Tms  day  he  also  declares 


SES.  TTL]  CBAnsGOf  -ttOl  SABb&TH.  339 

to  bt  a  (lay  of  public  worship  ;  a  day,  on  which  tht  gates  of  right- 
towntss  were  to  be  opened,  and  the  Righteous,  or  the  Churcli  as  a 
body,  were  to  eittet  ihem,  and  on  which  the  ministers  of  ihe(''spel 
were  to  6/<ss(A*m,  (in  the  J(tci«A  language,  or lancuogc  of  ibi  Tern- 
pie  service)  out  of  the  house  of  the  Lord;  or  in  latiguage  ;iil.if)ted 
to  the  Christian  mannerof  worship,  in  the  house  of  the  Luh!.  The 
substance  of  this  comment  is  beautifully  given  byUr.  H'uli-  m  the 
two  following  stanzas. 

The  norli,  O  Lard,  !■  tbine, 


Thii  ii  the  ^orioua  itj, 

IbM  oiir  Rf  decmer  made  ; 
Lei  us  rFJiilce,  md  sing,  and  Dnv; 

Let  all  (b«  CbD.Th  be  gled. 

4.  Christ  has  mdicattd,  that  the  Seventh  day  should  cease  to  he  the 
Sabbath  after  his  resurrection. 

In  Matthew  ix.  14,  we  are  informed,  thai  the  disciples  of  Join 
came  to  him,  and  inquired  of  him  why  his  disciples  did  not  fast,  as 
wel!  as  themselves,  and  the  Pharisees.  Christ  replied,  Can  ih* 
children  of  the  bride-chamber  tnoum,  as  long  as  the  bridegroom  it 
with  them  f  But  the  dat/s  mill  come,  when  the  bridegroom  shall  bt 
taken  from  them,  and  then  shall  I hrv  fast.  Christ  was  crucified, 
and  buried,  on  Friday.  At  the  close,  then,  of  ihis  day  he  was 
taken  from  the  children  of  the  bride-chamber;  that  is,  from  tus 
disciples.  Throughout  Saturday  he  by  in  the  gi-ave.  On  thtRrit 
day  of  the  aeek,  the  Christian  Sabbath,  he  was  restored  to  ihem 
■gain.  This,  then,  became  to  them  the  proper  season  of  fasting, 
according  to  his  own  declaration.  But  the  Sabbath  was  aftsti-oat 
from  the  beginning.     Such  it  continues  to  be  unto  the  end.     That 


it  was  to  be  such  to  the  Ciiristian  Church  is  amply  proved  by  the 
passage,  formerly  quoted  from  Is.  Ivi.  6,  7,  and  from  the  express 
deciaratioijs,  just  aovl  quoted  from  the  1 1 8th  Psalm.     Fasnug  OQ 


is  day  can,  therefore,  ncvcraccord  with  its  original  and  universal 
design.  Bui  on  the  seventh  day,  the  day  during  which  ho  lay  ia 
-the  grave,  as  he  informs  us,  it  was  proper  that  they  should  fa^I.  Id 
diis  declaration  it  is  indicated,  not  obscurely,  thai  the  sevenih  day 
Irould  soon  cease  to  be  a  season,  fitted  for  the  observance  of  the 
Sabbath. 

It  must  be  obvious  to  the  least  reflection,  that  this  season  of 
Christ's  extreme  humiliation  is  the  most  improper  period  conceiva- 
ble _/br  commemorating,  tcith  joy  and  gladness,  the  tBonderful  work 
^Rtdempti«n.  Every  thing,  in  this  season,  must  appear  10  a 
Christian  to  demand  humiliation  and  mourning,  rather  ilian  csulta- 
lion.  During  this  period  the  enemies  of  Christ  prevailed  against 
warn ;  and  the  Serpent,  according  to  the  first  prophecy  ever  giv«ii 


\ 


> .    .. 
S40     V^^  ^™^  PERPETUITY  AND  [8EB.CfL 


•v 


concerning  him  to  this  world,  bruised  his  hteL    To  rejoice  oo  this 

day  would  DC  to  lay  hold  on  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  greatest  sui^ 

ferings,  and  deepest  humiliation,  as  the  proper  season  for  our  great' 

.  est  exultation.     This,  certainly,  was  not  the  conduct  of  the  ApoA- 

.  ties.     They  mourned  in  the  most  melancholy  and  distressio; 

- .  manner.    Nor  do  they  appear  ever  to  have  regarded  the  Siventn 

^  day,  afterwards,  as  the  holy,  joyful  rest  of  GocL   On  the  contrary, 

they  transferred  this  festival  to  another  day. 

5*    The  Apostles^  by  their  examples ^  Iiave  decisively  taught  itf, 
that  the  day  of  Christ'* s  Resurrection  was  to  be  the  Christian  Salh 
.  bath. 

On  the  first  day  of  the  week,  the  day  of  his  resurrection,  Chiist 
met  his  disciples,  assembled  together.  On  the  first  day  of  the 
week  following,  he  met  them,  again  assembled  together.  On  the 
first  day  of  the  week,  at  the  feast,  called  Pentecost j  the  Spirit  de- 
scended in  a  miraculous  and  glorious  manner  upon  the  Ajx^stles. 
On  the  first  day  of  the  week,  the  disciples  assembled  together 
customarily,  to  break  breads  and  to  make  charitable  contrihutions 
for  their  suffering  brethren.  From  the  three  first  of  these  facts, 
it  is  plain  that  Cnrist  thought  fit  to  honour  this  day  with  pecul 
iar  tokens  of  his  approbation.  From  the  last,  that  the  Apoe 
•ties  thought  themselves  warranted  to  devote  it  to  religious  piff- 
poses. 

I  have  already  shown  above,  and  sufficiently,  that  God  has  ab- 
solutely prohibited  all  men,  under  severe  denunciation^,  and  ivith 
terrible  expressions  of  his  anger,  cither  to  form  Religious  histiiUF^ 
tions^  or  to  substitute  their  own  Institutions  for  his.     It  is  clearly 
impossible,  that  the  Apostles,  who  have  taught  us  this  very  doc^ 
trine,  should,  under  the  influence  of  Inspiration,  disobey  liim  io 
this  interesting  particular  by  forming  so  remarkable  a  KcligiwB 
Institution ;  abohshing  that  of  God ;  and  substituting  their  own  io 
its  place.     Nothing  is  more  evident  to  me,  than  that  this  example 
has  all  the  weight,  which  can  be  attached  to  any  precept  wjiatef- 
er.     This  will  especially  appear,  if  we  remember,  that  Peter  with 
the  eleven  Apostles  celebrated  the  first  day  of  the  week,  ami  that 
Paul  and  his  followers  did  the  same.     Paul  received  his  Gospel 
immediately  from  Christ ;  and  informs  us  in  Galatians  i.  2,  that 
the  Apostles  at  Jerusalem  added  nothing  to  him.     For  three  yeais 
he  never  saw  one  of  them ;  and  had  not  the  remotest  correspon- 
dence with  them.     All  the  doctrines  therefore,  which  Paul  ac- 
knowledged, he  received  directly  from  Christ;  and  was  indebted 
for  none  of  them  to  his  companions  in  the  Apostleship.     Yet  Pei^ 
and  his  followers  observed  the  first  day  of  the  week  as  tijc  ret 
gious  day ;  and  Paul  and  his  followers  observed  the  same.-    This 
©evident  from  his  direction  to  the  Churches  at  Galatia  and  Co- 
nnth  to  lay  by  them  somewhat  on  the  first  day  of  the  week^  f(3r  the 
poor  Saints  at  Jerusalem.     The  reason,  why  the  first  day  of  the 
treck  is  ^pitched  upon  for  this  purpose,  is  obviously  this  :  that  thfj 


•i 


i' 


1.  en.]  CHANGE  OF  THE   SABBATH.  34} 

•mblcd  customarily  on  the  first  day  of  the  week  for  religious 
tarposcs.  Accordingly,  in  Acls  xx.  7,  we  are  Inrormed,  itiat  the 
mtcipUi  in  Troas  camt  together  on  the  Jiist  day  of  the  week,  to 
break  bread;  and  that  Paul  preached  unto  them,  continuing  his  , 
speech  until  midnighl.  Bui  whence  did  these  persons,  thus  sepa- 
rated, derive  this  agreement  in  their  observance  of  the  first  day  of 
the  week  ?  The  only  answer,  which  can  be  given  to  this  ques- 
tion, is.  From  the  Inspiration  which  guided  them  both.  Had  they  ; 
"been  uninspired ;  their  agreement  in  a  case  of  this  nature,  where  i 
they  acted  independently  of  each  other,  would  have  proved,  that 
they  derived  the  doctrine,  and  the  practice  grounded  on  It,  from  a 
voromon  source.  Their  character  as  inspired  men,  and  Apostles, 
jDTOves  beyond  debate,  that  the  common  source,  from  which  they 
Vhus  hannoniously  derived  a  religious  Institution,  was  God. 

6.  Tie  same  doctrine  is  proved  from  the  already  cited  passage, 
Kev.  i.  10 ;  Iioai  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord's  day. 

From  this  declaration  it  is  evident,  that  in,  or  about  the  year 
S6,  when  the  Apocalypse  was  written  and  published,  there  was  a 
<iay,  known,  and  observed,  by  Christians,  generally,  as  the  Lord'* 
«3ay.  This  appellation  was,  I  presume,  derived  from  the  passage, 
fcefore  quoted  from  the  118lh  Psalm.  In  which  it  is  said  con- 
«;eming  the  day  of  Christ's  resurrection.  This  is  the  day,  which  tha 
-tjord  imth  made :  that  is,  hath  made  of  a  common  into  a  holy 
<3ay;  or,  in  other  words,  consecrated  to  htmscir.  But  the  day, 
pointed  out  in  this  passage,  is  the  day  on  which  Christ  rose  from 
die  dead. 

That  this  was  in  fact,  the  day,  styled  by  St.  John  the  Lord's 
JDay,  is  unanswerably  evident  from  the  history  of  the  Church :  and 
■X  is  equally  evident,  that  the  Sabbath,  or  holy  rest,  together  with 
r  ^»il  the  religious  services  pertaining  to  it,  were  celebrated  by  the 
'  ^Zlhurch  on  this  day.  Every  one,  who  has  read  with  attention  the 
^^ew  Tealament,'  must  have  observedi  that  there  is  no  hint,  as  well 
^»*  no  precept,  directing  Christians  to  celebrate  the  seventh  day  as 
I^oly  lime.  The  ancient  Christians,  particularly  the  Jewish  Chris- 
*ian9,  when  they  had  occasion  10  preach  to  the  Jems,  or  to  assera- 
fcle  with  them,  entered  into  their  synagogues  on  the  seventh  day, 
^-nd  undoubtedly  worshipped  with  them  in  their  manner  ;  but 
*i»cre  is  not  the  feast  reason  to  believe,  either  from  the  Acts,  or 
from  the  Epistles,  that  they  ever  assembled  of  their  own  accord, 
^«  that  day,  for  religious  services,  in  a  regular,  or  customary 
Xkanner. 

Ignatiut,  a  companion  of  the  Apostles,  says,  in  so  many  words, 
** Let  us  no  more  sabbatize;"  that  is,  keep  the  Jewish  Sabbath, 
"but  lei  us  keep  the  Lord's  day,  on  which  our  Life  arose." 
'»lin  Martyr,  who  lived  at  the  close  of  the  first  and  the  begin- 
of  the  second  century,  says,  "  On  the  day,  called  Suniay,  is 
nssembly  of  all,  who  live  in  the  city  or  country ;  and  the  me- 
wn  of  the  Apostles,  and  the  writings  of  the  Piophets,"  that  is^ 
Vou  III-  31 


1 


i 


J 


336  THE  PERPETUITT  AND  [SEIL  CVi 

jotcing.     In  Other  words,  it  is  no  other  than  redeeming^  and  sancti* 
fyin<!^.  the  souls  of  men  ^  by  means  of  which /Acy  become  a  rejoicing 
to  God^  and  to  each  other* 

In  ihis  declaration  of  the  Prophet  there  are  two  things,  particu- 
larly claiming  our  attention.  The  first  is,  that  the  New  Creation, 
or  the  Work  of  Redemption,  is  of  far  greater  importance  in  the 
eye  of  God,  <han  the  former  creation.  The  second  is  an  expres* 
prediction,  that  the  former  creation  shall  not  be  remembered  by 
the  Church,  nor  come  into  mind ;  or,  in  other  words,  shall  not  be 
commemorated.  This  I  understand,  as  almost  all  similar  Jewish 
phrases  are  to  be  understood,  in  a  comparative  sense;  and  sup- 
pose the  Prophet  to  intend,  that  it  shall  be  far  less  remembered^ 
and  commemorated ;  as  being  of  far  less  importance. 

Thnt  this  passage  refers  to  the  times  of  the  Evangelical  dispen- 
*  Mition  is  certain  from  the  prediction  itself:  since  the  new  Creation 
1b  the  very  subject  of  it,  and  the  commencement  of  that  dispensa- 
tion.    It  is  equally  evident,  also,  from  the  whole  strain  of  the 
fehapter. 

This  passage  appears  to  me  to  place  the  fact  in  the  clearest  light, 
that  a  particular,  superior,  and  extraordinair  commemoration  of 
the  Work  of  Redemption  by  the  Christian  Church,  in  all  its  vari- 
ous a^es,  was  a  part  of  the  good  pleasure  of  God  ;  and  was  dc- 
•ignod  by  him  to  oe  accomplished  in  the  course  of  his  providence." 
But  there  neither  is,  nor  ever  was,  any  public,  solemn  commemo- 
ration of  this  work  by  the  Christian  Church,  except  that,  which  is 
holdoji  on  the  first  day  of  the  week ;  or  the  day,  in  which  Christ 
completed  this  great  work  by  his  resurrection  from  the  dead. 
This  prophecy  has,  therefore,  been  unfulfilled,  so  far  as  I  see,  un- 
less it  has  been  fulfilled  in  this  very  manner.  But  if  it  has  been  ful- 
filled in  this  manner ;  then  this  manner  of  fulfilling  it  has  been  agree- 
able to  the  true  intention  of  the  Prophecy,  and  to  the  good  jilea- 
sure  of  God  expressed  in  it;  and  is,  therefore,  that  very  part  of 
the  system  of  his  Providence,  which  is  here  unfolded  to  mapkini 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  the  former  Insti- 
tution is  still  substantially  preserved.  The  Sabbath  still  returns 
upon  one  day  in  seven.  The  great  facts,  that  in  six  days  the  Lord 
made  heaven  and  earthy  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  them  is.  and  rested 
the  seventh  day,  are  still  presented  to  the  mind  in  their  full  force. 
The  work  of  creating  the  heavens  and  the  earth  is,  therefore,  re- 
gularly commemorated,  according  to  the  original  institution  of 
Gorf:  while  the  New  Creation,  as  its  importance  demands,  and  as 
tMs  prophecy  directly  foretels,  takes  its  own  superior  place  in  the 
commemoration.  Thus  the  Institution,  instead  of  being  abrogated 
in  every  respect,  is  only  changed  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  enlarge 
its  usefulness  and  importance  to  mankind,  and  to  become  a  solemn 
memorial  of  two  wonderful  works  of  God,  instead  of  one.  The  SaJh 
bath  itself  IS  unchanged.  It  still  returns  at  the  end  of  seven  days. 
It  is  still  a  memorial  of  the  Creation.   But  the  Institution  is  enlarg- 


8EB.  CVL]  CHANGE  OF  THE  SABBATH.  337 

cd  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  commemorate,  also,  the  work  of  Re- 
demption. 

With  this  Prophecy  facts  have  corresponded  in  a  wonderful 
maniK  r.  All  Christians  commemorate  the  work  of  Creation  in 
their  prayers  and  praises,  their  religious  meditations  and  discourses, 
from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath.  But  every  Christian  perfectly  well 
knows,  that  the  work  of  Redemption  holds  a  far  higher  place  in 
every  private,  and  in  every  public,  religious  service  ;  and  that,  ac- 
cording to  the  declaration  of  God  in  this  passage,  the  former  is 
comparatively  not  remembered^  neither  does  it  come  into  mind.  At 
the  same  time,  the  Work  of  Redemption  is  not  merely  the  chief^ 
but  t}ie  only,  mcaniS  of  originatii^  holiness  in  the  soul,  and  alto- 
gether the  principal  means  of  advancing  it  towards  perfection.  In 
every  respect,  therefore,  the  Christian  Sabbath  is  now  better  suit- 
ed to  the  great  ends  of  the  Institution,  than  the  original  day.  Until  r 
the  time  of  Christ's  resurrection,  the  seventh  day  commemwated 
the  most  glorious  work,  which  God  had  ever  accomplished,  and 
the  most  wonderful  display  of  the  divine  perfections.  But  by  the  ' 
resurrection  of  Christ,  a  new,  and  far  more  glorious,  work  was 
finished.  While  the  Sabbath,  therefore,  was  by  divine  appoint- 
ment kept  on  the  seventh  day,  it  was  exactly  suited  to  the  purpose 
of  commemorating  the  most  glorious  work  of  God,  which  had  ever 
taken  place.  But  after  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  the  first  day  of 
the  week  was  plainly  better  fitted,  than  any  other  day,  to  become 
a  religious  memorial  of  both  these  wonderful  works,  by  being  the 
day,  on  which  Christ  arose  from  the  dead,  and  by  retumine  reg- 
ularly at  the  end  of  every  six  days.  Whatever. other  opmions 
we  adopt  concerning  this  subject,  it  must,  I  think,  be  readily  ao* 
knowledged,  that  no  other  day  could  possibly  combine  all  thpse 
advantages. 

This  important  consideration  seems  to  be  plainly  intimated  in 
the  text.  Remember  the  Sabbath  day^  to  keep  it  holy.  The  seventh 
day  is  the  Sabbath.  In  six  days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earthy 
the  s^a  and  all  that  in  them  is  ;  wherefore  the  Lord  blessed  the  Sab^ 
bath  day,  and  hallowed  it.  It  cannot  escape  the  notice  of  every 
readnr  of  this  passage,  that  the  duty  of  remembering  the  Sabbath, 
to  keep  it  holy,  enjoined  at  the  be^nning,  and  the  blessing  and 
consecration  mentioned  at  the  end,  are  applied  to  the  Sabbath, 
and  not  to  the  day ;  and  that  the  seventh  day  is  declared  to  be  the 
Sabbath  day,  or  the  day  on  which  the  Sabbath  is  to  be  holdcn. 
The  meaning  of  this  is  obviously,  that  the  seventh  day  is,  or  Wfta 
at  that  time,  the  existing  day  of  the  Sabbath ;  without  determiniQg 
how  long  it  should  continue  to  possess  this  character.  God  es- 
tablished it  indefinitely ;  and  unless  he  should  be  pleased  to  change 
it,  perpetually,  as  the  day  of  the  Sabbath.  But  on  whatever  day 
he  should  think  fit  to  establish  the  Sabbath,  it  was  to  be  remember- 
ed, and  kept  holv.  The  blessing,  also,  and  the  sanctification, 
were  annexed  to  the  Sabbath  day,  and  not  to  the  seventh.     In  thia 


fgg  THE  £ERF£TUITT  ASa>  [8KR.  OTI. 

manner  littt*Chri8tian  Church  became  informed  of  their  duty,  when- 
ever the  day  should  be  changed ;  and,  if  they  perfoiTnea  it  faith- 
fully, were  assured  of  this  peculiar  blessing.  Thus,  also,  they 
were  preserved  firom  the  fears,  which  might  otherwise  arise,  of 
losing  the  blessing  annexed  to  the  Sabbath,  whenever  the  day,  on 
which  it  should  be  holden,  should  be  changed*  Had  the  blessing, 
in  this  command,  been  annexed  to  the  seventh  day,  it  would  prob- 
ably have  occasioned  an  inmiovable  perplexity  to  the  Chnstian 
Church,  bad  they  foirnd  the  present  account  of  the  Sabbath  con- 
tained in  the  New  Testament* 

3.  The  l^undredand  eighteenth  P^alm  ii  a  direct  prediction^  that 
the  dau  of  Christ'^ s  resurrection  wat^t^  ^Ae  day  on  which  the  ScAbath 
ihoulabe  holden  under  the  Gospel^ 

iln  the  14tb  verse  of  this  Psalm  the  divine  writer  declares,  that 
the  Lord  is  his  strength,  and  hts  song  ;  and  is  become  his  salvation. 
This  fact  we  know  was  accomplished,  when  Christ  rose  from  the 
dead.  In  consequence  of  this  great  event,  he  hears  the  voice  of 
rejoicing  J  and  of  salvation^  in  the  tabernacles  of  the  righteous  ;  or  in 
the  house  of  God.  In  the  1 9th  verse,  he  says,  Open  to  me  the  gates 
^righteousness*  Iwillpraise  thee  ;  for  thou  hast  heard  me  j  and  art 
become  my  salvation.  This  event  he  again  describes  in  a  new  and 
under  a  very  different  image  :  The  Stone  which  the  builders  refused, 
iff  become  the  headstone, of  the  comer.  He  then  subjoined.  This  is 
the  day  which  the  Lord  hath  made  :  ihaLt  is,  the  day  which  Christ 
consecrated,  or  made  into  a  holv  day,  when  he  became  the  head- 
stone of  the  comer :  that  is,  when  he  arose  from  the  dead.  He  then 
adds,  We  will  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it:  that  is,  We,  the  Righteous; 
the  Church  of  Uod ;  (for  in  their  name  he  speaks  throughout  all 
the  latter  part  of  this  Psahn,  whether  speaking  in  the  singular,  or 
plural.).  In  their  name  he  says,  in  the  following  verse,  Save  now, 
J  beseech  th^j  0  Lord  !  0  Lord  I J  beseech  thee,  send  now  prosperi' 
fy.  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Tne  words 
of  the  two  laAtjnentioned  v^s^s  are  applied  directlv  to  Christ  by 
the  multiludes  who  accompanied  him  in  his  triumphal  entry  into 
Jerusalem*  The  multitudesj  saith  St.  Matthew,  cried,  saying,  Ho* 
9anna  to  the  Son  of  David  I  .Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of 
,ihe*LordI  i  Hosanna  in  the  highest  /  The  words  of  the  last  verse 
are  also  applied  by  Cl^ist  to  himself.  Matt.  xxiv.  39,  For  I  say  unto 
you,  ye  shall  not  see  me  henceforth,  tUly^  shall  say.  Blessed  is  he 
that  cometh  in  the  name  pf  the  Lord.  The  comment  of  the  multi- 
tudes ia  reasonably  supposed  to  be  that  of  the  Jewish  Church  in 
general*  That  of  Christ,  and  that  of  St.  Peter,  mentioned  in  the 
nreceding  discourse,  are  the  decisive  law  of  interpretation  to  the 
Qiristiap  Church.  We  are,  therefore,  warranted  to  conclude,  that 
ibo  Psalmist  here  declares  not  only  the  joy  and  gladness  of  the 
Qmstian  Church  in  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  but  in  the  day  on 
which  he  arose :  for  he  says.  This  is  the  day  which  the  Lord  hath 
wmde^  wej^ilfr^okf,  a^^  be^  glad  in  it.    This  day  he  also  declares 


SER.  CTl]  CSATTG£<V  tHE  3ABSATa  939 

to  be  a  day  of  public  worship ;  a  day,  on  which  1^  ffUtt  of  rtgkt- 
touanegs  wtre  to  be  opened,  and  the  Rtghleow,  or  the  Church  as  a 
body,  mere  to  enter  iheni,  and  on  which  ihe  ministers  of  lhet.i^spel 
were  to  bless!  hem,  (\n  the /«jdi>/i  language,  or  language  of  the  Tem- 
ple service)  out  0/  the  house  of  the  Lord;  or  in  language  ininpied 
to  the  Christian  mannerof  worship,  in  the  house  of  (tie  Lonl.  The 
flubMance  of  this  comment  is  beautifully  given  by  Dr.  Wall.'  m  the 
two  following  stanzas. 

The  work,  0  Lord,  li  thme,  .     . 


Let  all  (be  Cho.xh  be  gW. 

4.  Christ  has  indicated,  that  the  Seventh  day  should  cttut  to  be  the 
Sabbath  after  his  resurrection. 

In  Matthew  ix.  14,  we  are  informed,  that  the  disciples  of  John 
came  to  him,  and  inquired  of  liim  why  his  disciples  did  not  fast,  as 
well  as  themselves,  and  the  Pharisect.  Christ  rephed,  CVin  the 
children  of  ike  bride-cliamber  mourn,  as  long  as  the  bridegroom  U 
with  them  ?  But  the  days  will  come,  when  the  bridegroom  shall  bt 
taken  from  them,  and  then  shall  they  fast,  Christ  was  crucified, 
and  buried,  on  Friday.  At  ihe  close,  then,  of  this  day  he  was 
taken  from  the  children  of  the  bride-chamber;  that  is,  from  his 
disciples.  Throughout  Saturday  he  lay  in  the  gi-ave^  On  Ihrfint 
day  of  the  meek,  the  Chri$tian  Sabbath,  he  was  restored  to  them 
again.  This,  then,  became  to  them  the  proper  season  of  fasting, 
according  to  his  own  declaration.  But  the  Sabbath  was  afstival 
from  the  beginning.  Such  it  continues  to  be  unto  the  end.  That 
it  was  to  be  such  to  the  Christian  Church  is  amply  proved  hy  the 
passage,  formeriy  quoted  from  Is.  Ivi.  6,  7,  and  from  the  express 
Oeclarations,  just  novJ  quoted  from  the  llSdi  Psalm.  Fasting  on 
this  day  can,  therefore,  never  accord  with  its  original  and  universal 
design.  But  on  the  seventh  day,  the  day  during  which  he  lay  io 
the  grave,  as  he  informs  us,  it  was  proper  that  they  should  fast.  In 
this  declaration  it  is  indicated,  not  obscurely,  that  the  seventh  day 
would  soon  cease  to  be  a  season,  fitted  for  the  observance  of  the 
Sabbath. 

It  must  be  obvious  to  the  least  reflection,  that  this  season  of 
Christ's  extreme  humiliation  is  the  most  improper  period  concciva- 
hle  for  commemorating,  with  joy  and  gladness,  the  loonderful  work 
9f  Redemption.  Every  thing,  in  this  season,  must  appear  to  .a 
Christian  to  demand  humiliation  and  mourning,  rather  tnan  exulta- 
tion. During  this  period  the  enemies  of  Chnst  prevailed  againil 
faim }  and  the  Serpettt,  according  to  the  first  prophecy  ever  giv«o 


i 


.  S40    -"^t^y  .  ^1^  PERPETUITY  AND  [8ER.  CVL 

concerning  him  to  this  world,  bruised  his  heek-  To  rejoice  on  this 
day  would  DC  to  lay  hold  on  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  greatest  suf- 
ferings, and  deepest  humiliation,  as  the  proper  season  for  our  great* 
.  est  exultation.     This,  certainly,  was  not  the  conduct  of  the  Apos- 
.  ties.     They  mourned  in  the  most  melancholy  and  distressing 
V.  manner.     Nor  do  they  Appear  ever  to  haive  regarded  the  Seventh 
* .'  day,  afterwards,  as  the  holy,  joyful  rest  of  God.   On  the  contrary, 
they  transferred  this  festival  to  another  day. 

5f    TTie  Apostles^  hy  their  examplesy  Iiave  decisively  taught  tii, 
that  the  day  of  Christ'* s  Resurrection  was  to  be  the  Christian  Sab- 
..-  bath. 

On  the  first  day  of  the  week,  the  day  of  his  resurrection,  Christ 
met  his  disciples,  assembled  together.  On  the  first  day  of  the 
week  following,  he  met  them,  again  assembled  together.  On  the 
first  day  of  the  week,  at  the  feast,  called  Pentecost j  the  Spirit  de- 
scended in  a  miraculous  and  glorious  manner  upon  the  A]>ostles. 
On  the  first  day  of  the  week,  the  disciples  assembled  together 
customarily,  to  break  breads  and  to  make  charitable  contributions 
^  for  their  suffering  brethren.  From  the  three  first  of  these  facts, 
it  is  plain  that  Christ  thought  fit  to  honour  this  day  with  pecul 
iav  tokens  of  his  approbation.  From  the  last,  that  the  Apos 
*t!es  thought  themselves  warranted  to  devote  it  to  religious  pu^ 
poses. 

I  have  already  shown  above,  and  sufficiently,  that  God.  has  ab- 
solutely prohibited  all  men,  under  severe  denunciation^,  and  with 
terrible  expressions  of  his  anger,  either  to  form  Religious  histitU' 
tions^  or  to  substitute  their  ovm  Institutions  for  his*  It  is  clearly 
impossible,  that  the  Apostles,  who  have  taught  us  this  very  doc- 
trine, should,  under  the  influence  of  Inspiration,  disobey  him  in 
this  interesting  particular  by  forming  so  remarkable  a  Religious 
Institution ;  abolishing  that  of  God ;  and  substituting  their  own  in 
its  place.  Nothing  is  more  evident  to  me,  than  that  this  example 
has  all  the  weight,  which  can  be  attached  to  any  precept  whater- 
er.  This  will  especially  appear,  if  we  remember,  that  Pettr  with 
the  eleven  Apostles  celebrated  the  first  day  of  the  week,  and  that 
Paul  and  his  followers  did  the  same.  Paul  received  his  Gospel 
immediately  from  Christ ;  and  informs  us  in  Galatians  i.  2,  that 
the  Apostles  at  Jerusalem  added  nothing  to  him.  For  three  yean 
he  never  saw  one  of  them ;  and  had  not  the  remotest  correspon- 
dence with  them.  All  the  doctrines  therefore,  which  Paul  ac- 
knowledged, he  received  directly  from  Christ;  and  was  indebted 
for  none  of  them  to  his  companions  in  the  Apostleship.  Yet  Peter 
and  his  followers  observed  the  first  day  of  the  week  as  t!je  reli- 
gious day ;  and  Paul  and  his  followers  observed  the  same.-  This 
IS  evident  firom  his  direction  to  the  Churches  at  Galatia  and  Co' 
nnth  to  lay  by  them  somewhat  on  the  first  day  of  the  week^  fOr  the 
poor  Saints  at  Jerusalem.  The  reason,  why  the  first  day  of  the 
Week  is  jfitched  upon  for  this  purpose,  is  obviously  this :  thai  th^ 

Y 


■  * 


nOL  CVL]  CHANGE  OF  THE  SABBATH.  S4| 

■ 

assembled  customarily  on  the  first  day  of  the  week  for  religious 
purposes.     Accordingly,  in  Acts  xx.  7,  we  are  informed,  that  iht 
disciples  in  TVoas  came  together  on  the  Jirst  day  of  the  week^  to 
breaJc  bread }  and  that  Paul  preached  unto  them,  continuing  his  , 
speech  until  midnight*     But  whence  did  these  persons,  thus  sepa- 
rated, derive  this  agreement  in  their  dlwenrance  of  the  filrst  day  of 
the  week  ?     The  only  answer,  which  can  be  given  to  this  ques*  -  * 
tion,  is.  From  the  Inspiration  which  guided  them  both*     Had  they  i 
been  uninspired ;  their  agreement  in  a  case  of  this  nature,  where  \ 
they  acted  independently  of  each  other,  would  have  proved,  that 
they  derived  the  doctrine,  and  the  practice  grounded  on  it,  from  %;r  ■. 
conmion  source.     Their  character  as  inspired  men,  and  Apostles, 
proves  beyond  debate,  that  the  common  source,  from  which  they 
thus  harmoniously  derived  a  religious  Institution,  was  God. 

6.  77l«  same  doctrine  is  proved  from  the  already  died  passage^ 
Rev.  i.  10 ;  I  was  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord?s  day. 
,  From  this  declaration  it  is  evident,  that  in,  or  about  the  year 
96,  when  the  Apocalypse  was  written  and  published,  there  was  a 
day,  known,  and  observed,  by  Christians,  generally,  as  the  Lord'f  ■ 
day.  This  appellation  was,  I  presume,  derived  from  the  passage, 
before  quotea  from  the  118th  Psalm.  Jn  which  it  is  said  con- 
cerning the  day  of  Christ's  resurrection,  This  is  the  day,  which  Ms. 
lA>rd  hath  made :  that  is,  hath  made  of  a  common  mto  a  holy 
day ;  ory  in  other  words,  consecrated  to  hin^elf.  But  the  day, 
pomted  out  in  this  passage,  is  the  day  on  which  Christ  rose  from 
the  dead. 

That  this  was  in  fact,  the  day,  styled  by  St.  John  the  Lord?s 
Day,  is  unanswerably  evident  from  the  history  of  the  Church :  and 
it  is  equally  evident,  that  the  Sabbath,  or  holy  rest,  together  with 
all  the  religious -services  pertaining  to  it,  were  celebrated  by  the 
Church  on  this  c^ay.  Every  one,  who  has  read  with  attention  the 
New  Testament,*'  must  have  observed^  that  there  is  no  hint,  as  well 
as  no  precept,  directing  Christians  to  celebrate  the  seventh  day  as 
holy  time.  The  ancient  Christians,  particularly  the  Jewish  Chris- 
tians, when  they  had  occasion  to  preach  to  the  Jews,  or  to  assem- 
ble with  them,  entered  into  their  synagogues  on  the  seventh  day, 
and  undoubtedly  worshipped  with  them  in  their  manner ;  but 
there  is  not  the  least  reason  to  believe,  either  from  the  Acts,  or 
from  the  Epistles,  that  they  ever  assembled  of  their  own  accord, 
on  that  day,  for  religious  services,  in  a  regular,  or  customary 
manner. 

Ignatius,  a  companion  of  the  Apostles,  says,  in  so  many  words^ 
''Let  us  no  more  sabbatize  ;"  that  is,  keep  the  Jewish  Sabbath, 
**  but  let  us  keep  the  Lord's  day,  on  which  our  Life  arose." 

Justin  Martyr,  who  lived  at  the  close  of  the  first  and  the  begin- 
ning of  the  second  century,  says,  *'  On  the  day,  called  Sun  Jay,  is 
an  assembly  of  all,  who  live  in  the  city  or  country ;  and  the  me- 
moirs of  the  Apostles,  and  the  writings  of  the  Piophets,''  that  is^ 

Vol.  Ill-  31 


.«. 


24s!  ™K  FERPETUirr  AND  [ttaU'Cft' 

the  Old  and  New  Testament,  <<  are  read.''    For  this  be  tiniyn  * 
the  reasons  of  the  Christians ;  viz.  '^  that  it  was  the  day  on  wkidi 
the  Creation  of  the  world  began,  and  on  which  Christ  arose  froB 
the  dead." 

IreruBuSj  a  disciple  of  Poll/carp^  the  disciple  of  St.  John  hin- 
self,  who  lived  in  the  second  century,  says,  '^On  the  LionPs 
day  every  one  of  us,  Christians,  keeps  the  Sabbath ;  medhat* 
ing  in  the  law,"  or  Scriptures,  '^  and  rejoicing  in  the  works  of 
God." 

Dyonysius,  Bishop  of  Corinth^  who  lived  in  the  time  of  Irenam^ 
that  is,  m  the  second  century,  says  in  his  letter  to  the  Church  at 
Rome^  "  To-day  we  celebrate  the  Lord's  day,  when  we  read  your 
Epistle  to  us." 

Tertullian,  who  also  lived  in  the  second  century,  speaks  of  the 
Lord's  day  as  a  Christian  solemnity.  •• 

Petavius  declares,  that  ^'  but  one  Lord's  day  was  observed  in  the 
earliest  times  of  the  Church." 

It  is  indeed  true,  that  in  that  miserable  forgery,  which  professes 
itself  to  have  been  written  by  the  Apostles,  and  is  styled,  Tlu 
Apostolical  Constitutions  /  but  which  was  plainly  the  work  of  some 
impostor,  living  in  the  latter  end  of  the  fourth,  or  the  beginning  of 
the  fifth,  century,  certainly  not  earlier,  it  is  directed,  that  Uhristiant 
should  keep  both  the  Jewish  Sabbath  and  the  Lord's  day,  as  re- 
ligious festivals ;  and  that  every  Sabbath,  but  one,  in  the  year,  and 
every  Lord's  day,  should  be  observed  in  this  manner.  It  is  also 
true,  that,  in  the  fiflh  century,  both  these  days  were  kept  in  this 
manner  by  Christians  generally,  except  the  Churches  of  Rome^  and 
Alexandria  ;  who  did  not  observe  the  Jewish  Sabbath  as  a  reli|^  . 
ous  day.  This  appears  by  the  testimony  of  both  Socrates  aikj' 
Sozomen.  Concerning  this  subject  Petavius  declares,  that  '^  the 
most  holy  fathers  agreed,  that  the  Apostles  never  ordained  any 
thing  of  this  nature."  He  also  remarks,  that  the  council  of  Lao^ 
dicea^  which  probably  sat  about  the  year  363,  f(»*bade  in  their 
S9th  canon,  tnat  Christians  should  rest  from  labour  on  the  Sab- 
bath or  Seventh  day.  For  they  say,  "  Christians  ought  not  to 
Judaize,  nor  to  rest  on  the  Sabbath,  that  is,  the  seventh  day ;  but 
preferring  the  Lord's  day,  to  rest,  if  indeed  it  should  be  m  their 
power,  as  Christians."* 

From  these  observations  it  is  plain,  that,  although  in  the  fifth 
i  century  many  Christians  had  reverted  to  the  observation  of  the 
Jewish  Sabbath,  while  yet  they  universally  celebrated  the  Lord's 
day ;  yet  the  practice,  even  in  this  period  of  miserable  declension, 
was  by  no  means  universal.  The  Churches  of  Rome  and  Alex*  — 
andria  never  adopted  it  at  dl;  and  others  plainly  adopted  it 
a^  they  did  a  great  multitude  of  other  corruptions  at  the  same  time 
merely  from  meir  own  construction  of  the  Scriptures*    We 


\ 


tSf).]    '  GHAlffGBOF.THE  AABBATH.  ftiS 


kr  ftt  tb6se,  especially  when  we  find  amon^  them  cele- 
JmaiLjBiniBters  of  religion,  who  admitted  the  protection  and  invo 
ctlMfi  of  Saints  and  Martyrs^  should  admit  any  other  corrup- 
tion ;  and  that  they  should  construe  those  passages  of  Scripture, 
whidi  speak  of  the  Sabbath,  as  erroneously  as  they  construed 
ochers* 

7.  The  tame  truih  appears  in  this  great  fact ;  that  God  has  pet' 
petualljf  and  gloriously  annexed  his  blessing  to  the  Christian  Sab' 
baih. 

If  this  day  be  not  divinely  instituted ;  then  God  has  suffered 
his  Church  to  disuse,  and  annihilate,  his  own  Institution,  and  sub- 
stitute one,  of  mere  human  device,  in  its  stead*  Will  this  be  be- 
lieved f  But  this  is  not  all :  he  hs^  annexed  the  blessing,  which 
he  originally  united  to  the  Sabbath,  instituted  by  himself,  to  that, 
which  was  the  means  of  destroying  it,  and  which  was  established 
.by  human  authority  merely.  After  reauiring,  that  men  should  add 
nothing  to  his  words,  and  forbidding  tnem  to  diminish  ought  from 
them;  after  threatening  the  plagues,  denounced  in  the  Scriptures, 
to  him,  who  should  add  unto  the  words  which  they  contain ;  and 
declaring,  that  he  would  take  away  out  of  the  book  of  life  the  part 
of  him,  who  should  take  away  from  the  words  written  in  the  Scrip- 
iures :  can  any  man  believe,  that  he  would  forsake,  iliaihe  has  for^ 
taken,  his  own  Institution  ;  an  Institution  of  this  magnitude ;  an 
Institution,  on  which  have  depended,  in  all  lands  and  ages,  the  ob- 
servation, influence,  and  existence,  of  his  holy  Law  ?  Can  any  man 
believe,  that  He  who  so  dreadfully  punished  •Yadaft  and  Mihu  for 
forsaking  his  own  Institution,  in  a  case  of  far  inferior  magnitude, 
and  settmg  up  one  of  their  own  in  its  stead,  would  not  only  not 
*funishf  but  abundantly  and  unceasingly  blessy  the  Christian  Church, 
while  perpetrating,  and  persisting  in,  iniquity,  of  exactly  the  same 
nature,  and  far  greater  in  degree  ?  The  Christian,  who  can  be- 
lieve this,  must  be  prepared  to  believe  any  thing. 

Had  men  known  nothing  concerning  the  Institution  of  God  ;  the 
charity  of  their  fellow-men  might  be  naturally  enough  extended  to 
them,  while  employed  in  religiously  commemorating  Christ's  res- 
urrection. The  appearance  of  pioty  in  such  a  commemoration, 
and  their  freedom  from  the  impiety  of  intruding  upon  a  divine  In- 
stitution, might  induce  others  to  think  favourably  of  their  conduct. 
But  in  the  case  in  hand,  the  Institution  was  begun  by  the  Apos- 
tles ;  men  inspired ;  chosen  followers  of  Christ ;  and  the  erectors 
of  his  kingdom  in  the  world.  If  they  sinned,  they  sinned  wilfully, 
and  in  defiance  of  their  inspiration.  With  them,  however,  the 
blessing  began  to  be  annexed  to  this  day  in  a  most  wonderful  and 
glorious  manner.  From  theyn  it  has  been  uninterruptedly  contin- 
ued to  the  present  time.  To  this  day,  under  God,  as  a  primary 
mean,  manicind  are  indebted  for  all  the  Religion,  which  has  beea 
in  the  world  from  the  days  of  the  Apostles.  If,  then,  the  Christian 
Sabbath  is  not  a  divine  Institution ;  God  has  made  a  device  of  man 


244  THE  PERPETtnTT,  Lc. 

a  more  powerful  support  to  his  spiritual  kingdom,  a  more  effica- 
cious instrument  of  diffusing  truth  antl  righteousness,  than  most, 
rerhaps  than  all,  others :  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  has,  so  far  as 
am  abie  to  discern,  wholly  neglected,  and  forgotten,  a  most  sol- 
emn Institution  of  his  own.  Thus  a  human  tfevice  has  been  a 
peculiar,  if  not  a  singular,  means  of  accomplishing  the  greatest 
glory  to  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost:  and  men,  it 
would  seem,  will,  in  the  end,  have,  inkereoflo  glory  before  God. 

This  blessing  has  hecn  too  evident,  too  uniform,  and  too  long 
continued,  to  admit  of  a  douht ;  too  great,  and  too  wonderful,  to  be 
passed  over  in  silence.  On  this  day,  the  perfections  of  God,  man- 
ifested in  the  amazing  works  of  Creation  and  of  Redemption,  have, 
more  than  on  all  others,  been  solemnly,  gratefully,  and  joyfully,  re- 
membered and  celebrated.  On  ihisday,  millions  of  the  numan  race  , 
have  been  born  unto  God.  On  this  day.  Christians  have  ever  found 
their  prime  blessings.  From  the  Word  and  Ordinances  of  God, 
from  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  from  the  presence  of  Christ 
in  his  Church,  Christians  have  derived,  on  this  day,  more  than  on 
all  others,  the  most  delightful  views  of  the  divine  character,  clear 
apprehensions  of  their  own  duty,  hvely  devotion  to  the  service  of 


God,  strength  to 


temptations,  and  glorious  anlicipatiotU 
of  immortaTiiy.     Take  this  day  from  the  Calendar  of  the  CbristiaD, 
and  all  that  remains  will  be  cloui'y  and  cheerless.     Religion  »™^ 
instantly  decay.     Ignorance,  erroi,  and  vice,  will  immediately  trK^ 
umph  j  the  sense  of  duty  vanish  ;  morals  fade  away ;  the  acknowli 
edgmeni,  and  even  the  remembrance,  of  God  be  far  removed  froM 
mankind;  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  cease  to  sound;  and  tho  ,■ 
communication  between  earth  and  heaven  be  cut  off  for  ever. 


SERMON  CVU. 

rODKTB   COKM^IIDlieNT. OBJECTIONS    i 


Hitunt  iv.  9r~ntTe  rtmaintth,  ihtnfart.  Rat  to  the  ptaph  b/  Ood. 

I  In  [he  two  preceding  discourses,  I  have,  according  lo  the 

'       scheme  originally  proposed,  endea  voured  to  prove  tkt  Pcrpdval  Et- 

labliihmtnl  of  the  Sabbath,  as  a  divine  Imtittitionj  and  (o  show, 

that  t/ie  day,  oninhich  it  it  by  divine  appotjUmtnt  to  bt  htidtnig/  the 

Christian  Church,  is  thtday  ofCkrisfs  Rtsurrection. 

In  the  following  discourse,  I  shall  proceed  to  consider  ikt  Ob- 
jtclions,  which  hate  been  made  to  this  doctrine.  As  all  ihe  impor- 
tant objections,  within  my  knowledge,  are  adduced  by  the  late 
Archdeacon  Paley,  it  is  my  design  lo  reply  to  this  respectable  wri- 
ter in  form :  such  a  reply  being,  in  my  own  apprehension,  all  that 
is  necessary  with  respect  to  the  subject  at  large. 

The  text  I  consider  as  a  direct  assertion,  tnat  there  is  a  Sabbath 
in  the  Ckriiiian  Church,  explained  by  the  verse  following  to  be 
/mended  on  ike  fact,  that  Christ  rested  from  his  labours  in  the  work 
k  of  Redemption  ;  as  the  seventh  day  Sabbath  nas  founded  on  the  facl^ 
^  that  God  rested  on  that  day  from  his  labours  in  the  work  of  Creation, 
For  he,  that  hath  entered  into  his  rest,  evtn  he  hath  rested  from  his 
works,  as  God  did  from  his  own.  The  word,  translated  Rest,  in 
the  text,  is  Xat&irxTpe.  Ainsvsorth,  a  man  eminently  qualified  to 
judge  of  this  subject,  translates  Ex,  xvi.  23,  thus;  This  is  that, 
which  Jehovah  hath  spoken:  To-morrow  is  the  Sabbatism,  tkt  Sab- 
bath of  holiness,  to  Jehovah,  in  the  same  manner  he  translates 
Ex.  zxxi.  15,  Lev.  xxiii.  3,  and  xxv.  4.  Ii.  commenting  on  Ex. 
ivt.  23,  he  says,  ^'Sabbatism,  Rest :  that,  is.  Rest,  or  cessation. 
But  as  the  Hebrew  Sabbath  Is  retained  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  the 
Greek  laSSufov,  so  the  Hebrew  Shabbathon,  here  used,  is  by  the 
Apostle  latSariftun,  in  Heb.  iv.  9."  The  verse  ought  therefor**  to 
be  rendered,  There  remaineth,  therefore,  a  Sabbatism,  or  Holy  S  ib- 
6ath  to  the  people  of  God :  and  this  day  the  folloiving  verse  proves 
to  be  (lie  day,  on  which  Christ  rose  from  the  dead. 

The  reason,  why  I  have  not  adduced  this  passage  of  Scripture, 
together  with  those  immediately  connected  with  it,  in  proof  of  the 
^oclrine  under  debate,  is,  that  a  comment  on  a  paragraph,  so  ob- 
'ttcurely  written,  and  demanding  so  particular  an  explanation,  must 
"^e  very  long ;  and  would  probably  be  very  tedious  to  many  of  my 
Audience. 

I.  The  first  and  great  objection  of  Dr.  Paley  'o  the  Perpetuity 
'^S  the  Sabbath  is,  that  the  account  of  its  original  InsiJlution  ii 


•^ 

4 

^ 

^ 


fi. 


346  raUKTH  COMMAIOniKMT.  [SBB.  CTH 

« 

found  in  the  following  passaee  :  Ex.  xvi.  22 — 30*    ^nd  U  came  to 

passj  that  on  the  sixth  day  they  gathered  twice  as  much  breads  tzoo 

V    omers  for  one  man  ;  and  all  the  rulers  of  the  congregation  came  and 

\  told  Moses*     And  he  said  unto  them^   This  is  tltat  which  the  Ijord 

I  hath  saidj  To-morrow  is  the  rest  of  the  holy  Sabbath  unto  the  Lord : 

I  Bake  that  which  ye  will  bake  to-day ^  and  seethe  that  ye  will  seethe  ; 

/  and  that  which  remaineth  over,  lay  up  for  yoUj  to  be  kepi  mUil  the 
morning.  And  they  laid  it  up  till  the  morning  as  Moses  bade*  And 
Moses  saidj  Eat  that  to-day ^  for  to-day  is  a  Sabbath  tmto  the  Lord: 
to-day  ye  shall  not  find  it  in  the  field.     Six  days  ye  shall  gather  it} 

V  but  on  the  seventh  day  which  is  the  Sabbath^  in  it  there  shuul  be  none. 

■  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  there  went  out  some  of  the  people  on  the 
seventh  day  for  to  gather,  and  they  found  none.  And  the  Lord  said 
unto  Moses  J  How  lone  refuse  ye  to  keep  my  statutes  and  my  laws? 
See,  for  that  the  Lord  hath  given  you  the  Sabbath,  therefore  he  giveth 
you  on  the  sixth  'day  the  bread  of  two  days  :  abide  ye  every  man  in 
his  place  }  let  no  man  go  out  of  his  place  on  the  seventh  day.  So 
the  people  rested  on  the  seventh  day. 

The  argument,  here,  is  wholly  derived  from  this  phraseoloi 
To-morrow  is  the  rest  of  the  holy  Sabbath  unto  the  Lord.  To-i 
is  a  Sabbath  unto  the  Lord :  ana,  TU  Lord  hath  given  you  the 
bath.  In  these  expressions  Dr.  Paley  thinks  he  finds  the  first  In- 
stitution of  the  Sabbath.  In  ray  view,  however,  after  examining 
long,  and  often,  the  arguments  of  this  respectable  Writer,  they 
appear  to  lead  to  the  contrary  conclusion.  It  is  to  be  observ^ 
that  the  whole  argument  depends  on  the  first  of  these  passages ; 
because,  t/iat  being  once  introduced,  the  rest  would,  in  the  case 
supposed,  follow  it  of  course ;  and  because  they  refer  directly  to 
it,  and  are  erounded  upon  it. 

As  a  preface  to  the  answer,  which  I  intend  to  make  to  this  argu- 
ment, I  remark,  that  the  words  of  Moses  are  addressed  to  the  £t 
ders  of  Israel,  who  had  complained  to  him  of  the  improper  conduct 
of  their  couutrirmen,  for  gathering  twice  as  much  bread  on  the 
sixth  day,  as  they  customarily  gathered  on  other  days.  As  Moses 
had  forbidden  them  to  leave  of  it  till  morning;  and  undoubtedly 
by  divine  Inspiration ;  the  Elders  supposed  their  countrymen  to 
have  trespassed,  in  collecting  this  douole  quantity  upon  the  sixth 

day.     Upon  this  part  of  the  story  }  observe, 

1 .  7%a/  the  division  of  time  into  Weeks  was  perfectly  knoton  to  the  ^ 
Israelites.  This  is  proved  by  the  phrases,  the  sixth  day^  ^nd  Uu^ 
seventh  day  ;  obviously  referring  to  the  days  of  the  week,  and  notS 
to  the  days  of  the  month.  Now  I  ask,  Whence  had  these  peoples 
this  scheme  in  dividing  time,  unless  from  the  history  of  the  Crea^ 
tion,  traditionarily  conveyed  down  to  them  ?  This  tradition,  it 
will  be  observed,  could  come  to  them  from  Adam,  through  six  i 
ions :  Methuselah,  Shem,  Abraham,  Isaac,  Joseph,  and  Amramm 

2.  Although  in  the  fifth  verse  God  informed  Moses,  that  the 
gregation  shotdd  gather  twice  <u  much  on  the  sixth  day ;  it 


t 


•  1 

SEiLcm]  ;  dBrecnoNs  ANSWAtaED.  S47 

■ 

highly  probable^^  not  absolutely  certainty  that  Moses  did  not  inform 
THEM  :  for^  we  find^  iliat  the  Elders j  who  would^  I  think^  certainly 
have  received  this  information  firsts  were  plainly  ignorant  of  itm 
The  people,  therefore,  seem  to  have  supposed  the  ensuing  day  to 
be  the  Sabbath,  of  their  own  accord ;  and  for  this  reason  to  have 
ventuttd  to  gather  a  double  quantity  of  manna,  from  an  apprchep- 
sionjflprt  the  labour  would  be  improper,  and  unlawful,  on  that  day. 
Some  of  them,  indeed,  went  out,  from  a  spirit  of  rebellion  and  un* 
belief,  and  probably  under  the  influence  of  an  idle  curiosity,  to 
learn  whether  the  manna  would  descend  on  that  day,  contrary  to 
the  prediction  of  Moses,  or  not.  But  this  fact  affects  not  the  ar- 
gument in  hand. 

L^t  me  now  ask,  whether  tlu  first  of  these  declarations  of  Moses, 
TTus  is  that^  which  the  Lord  hath  saidj  To-morrow  is  the  rest  of  the 
holy  Sabbath  unto  the  Lord^  is  the  language  of  a  man,  speaking  of  a 
thing  altogether  newj  and  unheard  of  ^  of  a  thing,  totally  different 
firom  all  other  things,  hitherto  known  in  the  world ;  or  the  lang*iage 
f^fa  man  referring  to  something  already  known^  and  speaking  to 
persons,  who,  although  acquainted  with  the  Institutbn  itself,  had 
an  imperfect  knowleoge  of  the  proper  day,  on  which  it  was  to  be 
holden  ;  and  were,  therefore,  uncertain  with  respect  to  this  point  ? 
Were  two  of  us  to  appoint  a  future  day  of  the  month,  (say  the 
second  of  December)  for  the  transaction  of  certain  business ;  a 
third,  who  was  present,  would  naturally  obser\'e,  if  such  was  the 
&ct,  that  the  second  of  December  will  be  the  Sabbath.  Or  were 
we  conversing  upon  the  same  subject,  on  the  first  of  December^  the 
same  person  would  naturally  say,  "  To-morrow  is  the  Sabbath.'' 
These,  you  will  observe,  are  the  very  words  of  Moses.  Here  we 
are  unmindful,  and  through  forgetfulness  ignorant,  that  the  Sabbath 
is  to  take  place  on  that  day.  Yet  we  are  perfectly  acquainted 
with  the  Institution,  generally;  and  that  we  are  acquainted  with  it, 
this  phraseology  is  direct  proof:  because  it  springs  from  these 
very  circumstances ;  and  would,  in  the  case  stated,  Be  used  by  all 
men. 

But  if  the  Institution  was  wholly  unknown,  would  not  the  reply 
be  made  in  terms  equivalent  to  the  following :  ^^  We  cannot  meet 
on  the  morrow,  or  the  second  of  December,  for  this  business :  be- 
cause the  Legislature  has  by  law  forbidden  all  the  inhabitants  to 
do  business  on  that  day ;  and  has  required  them  to  assemble  for 
the  worship  of  God,  and  to  abstain  from  every  secular  pursuit.'' 
To  this  answer  would  naturally  succeed  inquiries  concerning  the 
fact ;  the  time,  and  the  end,  of  passing  tne  law ;  the  motives, 
which  led  to  it ;  the  terms,  in  which  it  was  couched ;  its  ^quisi* 
tions,  and  its  penalties.  No  instance,  it  i3  presumed,  can  be  found, 
in  which  the  conversation  concerning  a  new  subject  of  this  nature 
would  be  such,  as  is  here  recorded  by  Moses  }  or  in  which  it  would 
not  be  substantially  such,  as  1  have  recited.     On  the  contrary,  tht 


'  248  MORTH  COBlMANDMEIfT.  [SER."rirH. 

conversation,  in  the  case  >vhich  I  have  supposed  to  be  that  of  the 
Israelites^  is  always  exactly  that  of  Moses. 

In  this  opinion  I  am  established  by  the  remarkable  fact,  that  the 
Israelites  make  no  inmiiry  concerning  this,  supposed,  novel  Institu- 
tion ;  although  so  eminently  important,  and  so  plain  an  object  of 
rational  curiosity.  The  Elders  themselves,  notwithstanding  their 
zeal  against  the  supposed  transgression  of  the  people,  ask  no  ques- 
tions, and  make  no  reply.  If  the  Institution  was  new,  and  now 
first  made  known  to  them  ;  this  conduct  is  unaccountable,  fiut  if 
they  were  acquainted  with  the  Institution,  and  doubtful  concerning 
the  day,  it  was  perfectly  natural. 

The  reckoning  of  time,  at  this,  as  well  as  mapy  preceding  and 
succeeding  periods,  it  Is  well  known,  was  extremely  lame  and 
confused.  The  Israelites^  with  respect  to  this  subject,  laboured 
under  peculiar  disadvantages.  They  had  been  long  in  a  state  of 
itude  ;  and  were  of  course  ignorant,  distressed,  and  naturally 
tentive  to  this  and  other  subjects  of  a  similar  nature*  A  reck- 
orthe  would,  indeed,  be  kept  among  them,  however  ignoiTtnt. 
But  It  must  almost  necessarily  be  imperfect,  doubtful  and  oisputcd. 
DifTcTcnt  opinions  concerning  time  would  of  course  prevail. 

Should  it  be  said,  that  the  causes  which  I  have  specified,  would 
make  them  forget  the  Institution  itself:  I  answer,  that  other  nations, 
as  will  be  seen  hereafter,  did  not  foreet  it ;  but  consecrated  the 
seventh  day  to  religious  worship ;  althougk-vm^ny,  perhaps  all, 
became  ignorant  of  the  day  itself.  We  ourselves  often  forget 
the  day  of  the  month,  and  week  ;  while  yet  we  are  possessed 
of  the  most  exact  reckoning  of  time,  and  a*  perfect  calendar;  aod 
are  reminded  of  our  time  By  so  many  books,  papers^  and  other 
means. 

Dr.  Paley  lays  much  stress  on  the  words,  contained  in  the  third 
declaration  of  Moses ^  which  I  have  specified :  The  Lord  hath  given 
you  the  Sabbath.  In  the  23d  verse,  when  the  Elders  had  reported 
to  him  the  supposed  transgression  of  their  countrymen,  in  gathering 
a  double  portion  of  manna  on  the  sixth  day  of  the  week,  he  an- 
swers :  This  is  that  which  the  Lord  hath  said ;  To-morrow  is  ths 
.  Rest  of  the  holy  Sabbath  unto  the  Lord :  that  is,  God  declares  to 
'  you,  that  the  holy  rest  ufito  himself  is  to  be  holden  on  the  mor- 
row. Bake  that^  "Ahich  ye  will  bake^  to^ay  ;  and  seethe  thatj  which 
ye  will  seethe^  and  that,  which  remaineth  over,  lay  up  for  you,  tobi 
Kept  until  the  morning..  The  next  day  he  renewea  the  same  mo-  — 
nition ;  and  informed  them  further,  that  there  would  be  no  manna^ 
on  that  day;  nor  on  the  seventh  day,  at  any  future  periqd,- 
They  wer^,  therefore,  to  gather  it  on  six  days  of  the  week  only^ 
and  on  every  sixth  day  to  provide  the  necessary  supply  for  th» 
seventh. 

Some  of  the  people,  however,  went  out  to  gather  manna  on  that 
very  dav;  but  round  none..  Upon  this,  Goa  says  to  Moses,  Hm 
hng  refuse  ye  to  keep  my  commandments  f    See,  for  that  the  hord 


SER  CVn.]  OBJECTIONS  ANSWERED.  $49        %. 

kath  given  you  the  Sabbath^  therefore  he  giveth  you  on  the  sixth  day 
the  bread  of  two  days.  The  words,  the  Lord  hath  given  you  the 
Sabbath^  are  perfectly  explained  by  the  original  declaration  of 
Mosfs  on  this  subject,  made  the  preceding* day.  To-morrow  is  the 
rest  of  the  Holy  Sabbath  unto  the  Lord.  This  is  the  giving  of  the 
Sabbath,  here  referred  to ;  and  this,  I  flatter  myself,  has  been 
shown  to  be  something,  widely  different  from  originally  institutmg  ^ 
the  Sabbath. 

The  obvious  explanation  of  these  words,  here  given,  equally 
explains  a  passage  in  Ezekiel  xx.  12,  and  another  in  Nehemiah 
ix.  14,  quoted  by  Dr.  Paley  for  the  same  purpose.  The  former 
of  these  is.  Moreover^  also^  I  gave  them  my  Sabbaths  :  the  lattir^ 
T%ou  modest  known  unto  them  thy  holy  Sabbath.  If  the  passage  in 
Ezekiel  refers  to  the  Sabbath  at  all ;  which  may  be  douoted ;  it  is 
merely  a  repetition  of  the  words  oi Moses.  If  it  refers  to  the  various 
fasts  and  feasts  of  the  Jews,  frequently  denominated  sabbaths ;  k 
nas  no  connexion  with  the  subject.  The  latter  of  these  passami 
accords  more  naturally,  and  obviously,  with  the  account  which.  ^ 
has  been  here  given,  than  with  that  oiDf^Paley*  Neither  of  them, 
it  is  perfectly  plain,  furnishes  the  least  additional  support  to  his 
opinion. 

Another  argument  for  the  same  purpose  is  derived  hj  this  re- 
spectable writer  from  the  following  declaration,  Ex.  xxxi.  16, 17.  .^ 
if,  that  is,  the  Sabbath,  is  a  sign  between  me  and  the  children  of 
Israel  for  ever.  The  same  thing  is  also  mentioned  by  Ezekiel 
in  nearly  the  same  terms.  Upon  this  Dr.  Paley  observes,  "  Now 
it  does  not  seem  easy  to  unaerstand  how  the  Sabbath  could  be  a 
sien  between  God  and  the  people  of  Israel,  unless  the  observance 
OI  it  was  peculiar  to  that  people,  and  designed  to  be  so." 

The  only  question  of  importance,  here,  is,  whether  the  fact,  that 
the  Sabbath  is  made  a  sign  between  God  and  Israel,  made  it  cease 
to  be  a  memorial  of  the  display  of  the  divine  perfections,  accom- 
plished in  the  Creation.  If  not ;  then  the  Sabbath  still  remained 
at  that  time,  and  remains  now,  such  a  memorial.  But,  I  presume, 
neither  Dr.  Paley  himself,  nor  any  other  man,  would  say,  that 
God,  in  making  the  Sabbadi  a  sign  between  him  and  Israelj  intend- 
ed to  release  them  from  commemorating,  on  that  day,  his  perfec-  ' 
tions,  thus  displayed  in  the  work  of  creation,  and  his  own  solemn 
commemoration  of  them,  when  he  rested  at  die  close  of  this  work 
upon  the  seventh  day.  But  if  the  Israelites  were  not  released  from 
this  commemoration  by  the  passage  in  question ;  the  rest  of  man- 
kind could  be  affected  by  it  in  no  manner  whatever. 

The  truth  is,  that  the  ordinance  which  made  the  Sabbath  a  sign 
to  the  Israelites  was  subsequent  to  the  promulgation  of  the  Deca- 
logue; and  cannot  affect  that  law,  even  remotely;  as  I  sball 
soon  demonstrate.  In  the  same  manner  the  Sabbadi  was  made 
a  memorial  of  the  deliverance  of  the  Israelites  from  the  bondage 
of  Egypt^  and  a  type  of  the  promised  rest  in  Canaan.  These 
Vol.  III.  32 


SUO  rOOBTH  COBfBfANDMBft:  J/tBL  OIK 

■'•  ^  r  T     .  '•■•2 

.were  all  merely  additional  uses  of  the  Sabbftdi,  lo  '^pvlachltllto'i 
happily  applied,  because  they  perfectly  harmonizeil  Wilb  iti  orifcllB  f' 
design. 

In  Deuteronomy  vi«  8,  Moses^  after  reciting  the  Deciilogne,  anH  |j 
the  summary  of  it  contained  in  the  two  great  commands  of  the  Moi^ 
al  law,  says  to  Israel,  Thau  shall  hind  them,  for  a  sign,  ifon  Ihim 
hand.  A  sign  which  the  Israelites^  by  the  command  of  GK)d,  were 
to  bind  upon  their  hands,  was  a  sign  between  God  and  them,  inthe 
same  manner  as  was  the  Sabbath.  Now  I  ask  whether  it  would 
be  proper  to  say,  that ''  it  does  not  seem  easy  to  understand  how 
the  decaloeue,  and  the  two  great  commands  in  which  it  is  summed 
up,  could  be  a  sign  between  God  and  the  people  of  Israel^  unless 
the  observance  of  them  was  peculiar  to  that  people,  and  dlesigned 
to  be  so.'' 

What  was  intended  by  making  the  Sabbath  a  sign  betwefn.God 
and  Israel  is  declared  by  God  himself  in  Ezekief  zx»  iWj^^igni 
them  my  sabbaths,  to  be  a  sign  between  me  and  them^  ihat^f^ 
know,  that  lam  Jehovah,  who  sanctify  them.  It  will  not  be 
that  the  whole  human  race  are  equally  interested  with  the  Innel- 
ites  in  this  knowledge.  All  that  was  peculiar  to  them  was  this : 
they  alone,  for  many  ages,  had,  and  it  was  foreseen  by  God  that 
.they  would  have,  the  knowledge  in  Question ;  and  would  be  the 
only  medium  of  communicating  it  to  otner  nations.^  The  Sabbath, 
therefore,  was  so  far  peculiarly  a  sign  to  them,  but  is  obviously  in 
its  nature,  and  necessarily,  a  sign  also,  in  a  general  sense,  of  the 
same  knowledge  to  every  nation,  afterwards  acquainted  with  the 
Sabbath.  From  this  very  declaration  in  Ezekiel,  in  which  the  ob- 
ject of  rendering  the  Sabbath  a  sign  to  the  Israelite^,  is  pointed 
out,  it  is  clear  that  ^^  the  observance  of  it  was  not  d^siened  to  be 
peculiar  to  tha^  people,"  unless  the  knowledge  of  Jehovah  was 
also  to  be  perpetually  confined  to  them. 

Dr.  Paley  further  observes,  "  If  the  sabbath  be  binding  upon 
Christians  ;  it  must  be  binding  as  to  the  day,  the  duties,  and  the 
penalty  :  in  none  of  which  it  is  received." 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  the  Sabbath,  and  the  day  on  whieh 
.  it  is  kept,  are  separate  parts  of  the  Institution ;  so  separate,  that 
.  the  Sabbath  itself  may  oe  perpetual,  and  yet  the  day  oe  changed, 
I  successively,  through  every  part  of  the  week.  The  Institution  of 
^.the  day  I  have  already  acknowledged  to  be  no  less  obligatory,  than 
!.that  of  the  Sabbath  itself;  unless  it  can  be  fairly  shown  to  have 
:.been  changed  by  the  same  Authority.  Whether  this  has,  in  fact, 
j  been  shown  in  the  preceding  discourse,  must  be  left  for  those  who 
rbeard  it,  to  determine. 

!     With  regard  to  the  duties  of  the  Sabbath,  I  shall  only  observe, 
ithat  this  point  will  be  examined  in  a  future  discourse. 
«.    As  to  the  penalty,  it  will  be  remembered,  that  it  is  not  contained 
'in  the  Decalogue  ;  but  is  merely  a  part  of  the  civil  law,  and  intc^ 
tOal  police^  of  the  Jewish  nation*    Still,  it  may  be  usefcii  to  trylhis 


cvn.]  dBJEcnoNS  amswkrkd.  251 

reasonine  with  other  commands  of  the  Decalogue.  In  the  twojtrtt 
jprecfptSj  It  is  acknowledged,  that  we,  as  well  as  the  Israelites,  are 
^  •  Torbidden  to  worship  idois,  or  other  Gods,  beside  Jehovah.  Now 
it  is  well  known  that  the  Israelites^  who  disobeyed  these  commands, 
were  by  the  law  of  Moses  to  be  put  to  death.  It  is  presumed, 
chat  Dn  Paley  would  not  believe  this  penaUy  to  be  binding  upon 
as ;  and  that  he  would  still  acknowledge  the  commands  them- 
selves to  be  no  less  obligatory  upon  u^,  than  upon  them.  It  is 
presumed  also,  that  he  would  acknowledge  the  fifth  command  to  be 
equally  binding* upon  all  men.  In  Deut.  xxi.  18 — 21,  and  in  Prov. 
XXX.  17|  it  is  required,  that  children,  disobeyine  this  command, 
shall  be  pat  to  death.  Would  Dr.  Paley  acknowledge  this  penal- 
ty to  be  binding  upon  ust  Ov  would  he  deny  our  obligation  to  obey 
the  cominand  ? 

Dt.  Mii  asserted  by  this  writer^  that  Genesis  ii.  1 — 3,  does  fu4 
tOtUimim  account  of  the  original  Institution  of  the  Sabbath. 

TUl  assertion  he  supports  by  the  following  reasons  :  ^^  that  the 
observation  of  the  Saboath  is  not  mentioned  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  before  the  call  of  Abraham :  that  it  is  not  mentioned  in  the 
history  of  Abraham^  Isaac  and  Jacob}  which,  he  says,  is  in  many 
parts  sufficiently  circumstantial  and  domestic:  that  in  Exodus 
xvi.  no  intimation  is  given,  that  the  Sabbath,  then  appointed,  was 
only  the  revival  of  an  ancient  Institution,  which  had  been  neglect- 
ed or  forgotten  :  that  no  such  neglect  is  imputed  to  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  old  world,  or  to  any  part  of  the  family  of  Xoah  :  and 
that  there  is  no  record  of  any  permission  to  dispense  with  the  In- 
stitution, during  the  Egyptian  bondage,  or  on  any  other  public 
emergency.'' 

With  regard  to  the  last  of  these  reasons,  I  answer  only,  that 
there  is  no  record  of  any  neglect  of  the  Institution,  either  during 
the  Egyptian  bondage,  or  during  any  other  public  emergency. 
During  tne  Babylonish  captivity,  we  have  no  record  of  any  such 
permission,  nor  of  any  observance  of  the  Sabbath.  Yet,  as  J^ehe- 
miah  and  his  companions  plainly  observed  it  after  their  return 
from  that  captivity,  it  is  presumedl.  Dr.  Paley  will  not  deny,  that  it 
was  observed  bv  the  Jewish  nation  during  that  whole  period. 

That  no  negligence  of  the  Sabbath  should  be  charged  to  the 
Aniediluviansj  to  J/oahj  or  to  any  others,  in  cases,  where  the  Sab- 
bath is  not  even  mentioned,  can  occasion  no  surprise  *,  and  it  is 
presumed,  can  furnish  no  argument)  relative  to  this  or  any  other 
question.  It  deserves,  however,  to  be  remarked  as  an  answer  to 
every  observation,  which  can  be  made  of  this  nature,  that  the  first 
censure  for  any  impropriety  in  the  observation  of  the  Sabbath,  ut- 
tered concerning  tne  Israelites  in  the  Scriptures,  isfcundin  the 
prophet  Isaiah :  about  seven  hundred  and  sixtv  years  before  Christ, 
and  seven  hundred  and  thirty-one  years  after  the  events  recorded  In 
Exodus  xvi.  The  second  is  found  in  Egekiel;  written  about  fiv^ 
Irandred  and  ninety-three  years  before  Christ,  and  eight  hundred 


'k 


S^2  FOOpXH  COMMAMDMrar.  [SER.  C?IL 

and  ninety-seven  years  after  these  events.  Can  it,  then,  be  sur- 
prising, when  we  know  from  these  very  passages,  that  the  Israel 
ties  merited  not  a  little  censure  for  their  profanations  of  the  Sab- 
bath ;  and  when  we  yet  find  thefl0  to  be  the  first  icensures,  casf 
upon  them  in  the  Scriptures ;  that  JVbaA,  his  family,  and  the  Ante- 
diluvians, should  not  be  censured? 

The  third  of  these  reasons  cannot,  after  what  has  been  said  m 
the  former  part  of  this  discourse,  need  any  answer.  I  shall,  there- 
fore, direct  the  following  observations  to  the  two  remaining  reasons  f 
perhaps  with  more  propriety  considered  as  one;  viz.  the  silence  of 
the  Scriptures  concerning  the  observation  of  the  Sabbath  by  ihostj 
who  lived  before  the  call  of  Abraham^  and  by  the  three  first  patrh 
archs*     Concerning  ^!ife  subject  I  observe. 

In  the  first  place,  If  all  these  persons  did  in  fact  neglect^  or  for- 
getj  the  Institulionj  it  would  not  alter  the  case  at  all.  The  InstitU' 
tionof  booths  is  declared,  in  Sehemiah  viii.  17,  to  have  been 
neglected)  and  forgotten,  from  the  time  of  Joshua,  the  son  of  JMm, 
until  aftnr  Nehemiah  and  his  companions  returned  from  the  captivi- 
ty :  a  period  of  nine  hundredtftnd  eighty  years.  Neither  Sasnudj 
David,  Solomon,  Hezekiah,  nor  Josiah,  observed  itS  and  let  it  be 
remembered,  that  no  censure  is  cast  upon  them  for  their  neglect; 
nor  any  hint  given,  that  they  were  euilty  of  such  neglect,  until  the 
close  of  this  long  period,  nor  even  then  was  any  other  notice  taken 
of  this  subject  but  what  is  contained  in  this  declaration  of  Jfehe* 
miah.  Yet  ^ehemiah  revived  this  solemnity ;  and  has  declared 
it  to  be  obligatory  upon  that  generation,  ana  vpon  those  of  suc- 
ceeding ages,  in  the  same  manner  as  if  it  had  never  been  disused. 

2.   There  is  no  reason  to  suppose,  that  this  fact  would  have  been 
mentioned,  if  the  Sabbath  had  been  exactly  observed  by  the  Patri" 
archs,  and  by  all  who  preceded  them.     If  Sabbaths,  in  the  plural, 
be  supposed  to  denote  the  Sabbath ;  then  the  first  mention  pf  this 
subject,  made  after  the  time  of  Moses,  occurs  in  1  Chron.  xxiii.  31, 
in  tne  instructions  of  David  to  Solomon  concerning  building  the 
temple,  at  the  distance  of  near  five  hundred  years.     The  same 
''Word  occurs  thrice  in  the  same  book  :  viz.  in  the  8th  and  31st 
chapters  :  in  the  two  former  of  these  instances,  as  a  repetition,  or 
allusion  to,  the  words  of  David ;  and  both  in  the  history  of  Solo* 
mon.     The  latter  instance  is  in  the  history  of  Hezekiah,  seven 
hundred  and  sixty-five  years  after  the  period  above-mentioned. 
The  same  word  occure  in  Isaiah  ;  about  seven  hundred  and  thirty 
jrears  from  that  period.     The  word  Sabbath,   is  mentioned  five 
times  in  the  history  of  the  Jewish  Church  before  the  Captivity.^ 
The  first  of  them  is  a  mere  note  concerning  the  business  of  the  Ko^ 
hathites ;  which  was  to  prepare  the  shew  bread  every  Sabbath.  Th^ 
time,  when  it  watf  written,  was  that  of  David ^  near  five  hundreds 
years  after  this  period.     See  1  Chron.  ix.  32.     The  second  is  th^ 
speech  of  the  Sfaunamite's  husband :  //  is  neither  new  mowi^  nof 
Sabbath :  not  referring,  in  my  opinion,  to  tlu  Sabbath  at  all :  al* 


•aiOL  cm.]  OBIECTIONS  ANSWBBia  t*s 

most  six  hundred  years  from  the  above  period.  The  third  is  in  2 
Kings  xi. ;  a  part  of  the  speech  oiJehoiada  to  the  rulers  oiJudah. 
A  third  pari  ofyouj  that  enter  in  on  the  Sabbath^  shall  even  be  keep* 
en  of  me  King^e  house  ;  and  imp  parts  of  all  you,  that  go  forth  on 
the  Sabbath,  even  they  shall  be  iuepers  of  the  watch  of  the  house  of 
the  Lordm  Immediately  after  this  speech  it  is  also  subjoined,  that 
the  rulers  took  every  man  his  men,  that  were  to  come  m  on  the  S(A» 
bath,  with  them,  that  should  ^o  out  on  the  Sabbath,  and  they  came  to 
Jehmada  the  priest.  These  it  will  be  remembered  constitute  but  a 
single  instance  of  mentioning  the  Sabbath ;  an  instance  occurring  at 
the  distance  of  more  than  six  hundred  years.  Another  instance 
occurs  in  the  history  of  Ahaz ;  and  is  the  following :  The  covert 
for  the  Sabbath  turned  he  from  the  house  tif,4he  Lord,  for  the  king 
cf  Assyria:  seven  hundred  and  fifty-two  years.  The  word  is 
also  mentioned  in  Isaiah  Ivi.  Iviu*  and  Ixv.  about  seven  hundred 
and  eighty  years.  These  are  all  the  instances,  in  which  the 
W€rd  occurs  either  in  Prophecy,  or  History,  from  the  time  of  JUb- 
n$  till  after  the  return  of  ihe  captivity :  a  period  of  one  thousand 
years. 

Of  this  account  it  is  to  be  observed, 

First ;  That  the  word,  sabbatlu,m'the  plural,  is  mentioned  four 
limes  in  the  history  of  the  Jewish  Church,  and  twice  in  the  proph- 
ecy of  Isaiah,  within  a  period  of  seven  hundred  and  eighty  yesun^ 
Tne  first,  second,  and  third,  occurring,  incidentally,  in  me  mention 
of  the  duty  of  the  priests  in  the  orders  of  David:  the  second,  a 
repetition  of  them  oy  Solomon :  the  third,  in  an  account  of  their 
execution.  These,  together,  really  constitute  but  one  instance* 
The  fourth  occurs,  incidentally  also,  in  a  sentence,  giving  in  almost 
the  same  words,  an  account  of  the  same  duty  of  the  priests  in  the 
time  ofHezekiah,  The  fifth  is  a  censure  of  the  Jews  for  the  pollu- 
tion of  the  new  moons  and  sabbaths,  uttered  by  the  prophet  tsaiah* 
The  three  first  of  these  instances  occur  at  the  distance  of  about 
.five  hundred  years,  the  others  between  seven  and  eight  hundred 
fiKmi  the  time  of  the  supposed  institution.  In  but  one  of  these, 
and  that  the  last,  is  there  any  thing  like  an  account  of  the  man- 
ner, in  which  the  Sabbath  was  kept,  or  neglected.  All  the  rest 
.are  merely  incidental ;  and  teach  us  no'hinj;  more,  than  that  sab- 
baths were  in  existence,  and  were  involved  in  the  JeoitA  ritual. 

Secondly ;  As  the  Sabbath  appears  to  be  regularly  distinguished 

firom  Mobbaths  ;  and  as  Sabbatns  are  regularly  joined  with  the  new 

.emaosu,  and  other  holidays  of  the  Jews,  whicn  the  Saibaih  never 

is;  it  is  clear  to  me,  that  the  Sabbath  is  not  alluded  to  in  any  of 

-ilhese  instances. 

Thirdly ;  The  phrase,  The  Sabbath,  occurs  in  ikree  satloiMit, 

itfcalling  those  in  the  account  oiJehoiada  one)  in  Ihe  history  of  the 

Jewish  Church,  before  the  captivity :  all  of  them,  however,  entirely 

^■icidental ;  and  containing;  no  account  of  the  Sabbath  as  an  Insti* 

lation;  nor  of  the  observance  of  it;  aorof  the  aegket«    Thisii 


r-. 

254  ^        FOURTH  C0MMAND]4SRT»  [8ER.  CVIL 

all,  which  is  said  of  it- before  the  return  from  the  Babvlonish  Cap- 
tivity, except  what  is  said  by  the  Prophet  haiah :  and  there  is  but 
a  single  passage  in  this  Prophet,  in  which  this  phrase  is  used  with 
reference  to  the  times  of  the  Jewish  dispensation. 

We  are  thus  come  to  this  conclusion,  that  there  are  h\xi  five  pas' 
sages,  in  which  the  Sabbath  is  mentkkied  in  the  Jewish  writings, 
from  the  time  of  Moses  to  the  return  of  the  captivity :  one  thousand 
yeai*s.  Two  of  them  are  found  in  prophecy,  aitad  three  of  them  in 
their  history.  The  first  of  these  is  mentioned  about  five  hundred 
years,  the  second  six  hundred,  and  the  third  seven  hundred  and 
fifty-two ;  and  the  two  remaining  ones,  which  are  found  in  prophe- 
cy, near  eight  hundred ;  from  the  time  of  the  supposed  Institution. 

Now  let  me  ask.  Can  any  person  wonder,  that  in  an  account  so 
sunmiary,  as  the  history  of  tne  three  first  Jewish  patriarchs,  ^lere 
should  be  no  mention  of  the  Sabbath  ;  when,  also,  during  a  period 
of  about  five  bmdred  years,  containing  the  histories  of  JoskuOj 
of  the  Judges,  particularly  Samuel,  and  of  Saul,  it  is  not  once 
mentioned  ?  The  question  certainly  cannot  need  an  answer*  The 
only  wonder  is,  that  so  sensible  a  Avriter  should  have  thought  this 
an  argument. 

3.  God  himself  has,  I  apprehend,  declared,  that  the  Sabbath  was 
instituted  at  this  time. 

For  in  the  first  place,  this  is  the  true  and  only  rational  interpre* 
tation  of  the  second  of  Genesis.  Dr.  Paley  supposes,  that  the 
words  of  the  historian :  And  God  rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  all 
the  work,  which  he  had  made  ;  and  God  blessed  the  seventh  day,  and 
sanctified  it ;  because  that  in  it  he  had  rested  from  all  his  works, 
which  God  created  and  made  ;  declare  only  the  reasons,  for  which 
God  blessed  and  sanctified  the  Sabbath,  and  not  the  time,  at  which 
this  was  done ;  and  that  it  was  mentioned  at  this  time,  only  an  aC' 
count  of  its  connexion  with  the  subject,  and  not  because  the  blessing 
and  sanctifcation  took  place  at  this  period.  To  this  I  answer,  JIfo- 
ses  has  written  this  story  exactly  in  the  manner,  in  which  he  has 
written  the  whole  history  of  the  creation,  paradisiacal  state,  and 
the  apostacy  :  nay,  almost  the  whole  of  the  nistory,  contained  in  the 
book  of  Genesis.  There  is  as  much  reason  to  believe,  that  the 
Sabbath  was  blessed  and  sanctified  at  this  time,  from  the  manner, 
in  which  the  story  is  written,  as  there  is  to  believe,  that  our  first 
parents  were  turned  out  of  Paradise  before  the  birth  of  Cain  and 
Abel.  The  order  of  lime  is,  I  apprehend,  exactly  observed  in  the 
history,  except  where  the  historian  has  taken  up  aeain  a  particu- 
lar part  of  the  history,  for  the  purpose  of  detailing  it,  (Uid  has,  for 
this  end,  interrupted  the  general  course  of  his  narrative.  Of  the 
justice  of  this  observation  the  bare  reading  of  the  story  will,  I 
think,  convince  any  person,  who  has  not  a  pre-conceived  opinion 
to  support.  * 

Wnat  is  thus  suliiciently  evident  bora  the  narrative,  God  ap- 
pears to  me  to  teatve  decided  to  the  following  words  of  the  text :  ior 


SER.  CVn.]  OBJECTIONS  AN3WERED.  255 

in  six  dayt  the  Lord  made  heaven,  and  tarlh,  ihe  aea,  and  all  thai  in 
ihem  M  ;  and  reattd  the' seventh  day  :  wherefore  Ihe  Lard  blessed  the 
Sabbath  day,  and  halloatd,  or  sanctified,  it.  Here,  God,  repeating 
the  very  words  of  the  narrative,  declares,  that  he  had  already 
blessed  and  sanctified  the  Sabbalh,  at' some  time  preceding  that, 
at  which  this  cotnaiand  was  promulgated.  The  Sabbalh,  there- 
fore, was  blessed  and  sanctified  before  this  command  was  given. 
That  this  was  not  dona  at  (he  lime,  when  Dr.  Paley  supposes  the 
Sabbath  to  have  been  instituted,  nor  at  any  period  between  Ihe 
first  Sabbath,  and  the  giving  of  (he  law,  seems  to  me  clear  fi^m 
this;  that  there  is  not  a  single  hint  given  of  the  subject,  either  al 
the  lime  of  the  supposed  Institution,  or  in  any  other  part  of  the 
Mosaic  dispensation,  except  that  in  (he  second  of  Genesis.  That 
the  blessing  was  then  given  must,  I  think,  be  concluded,  because 
God  himself,  relating  this  great  transaction,  adopts  the  same  lan- 
guage ;  and  says,  Wherefore  the  Lord  blessed  tlu  Si^bath  day,  and 
hallomed  it.  That  the  blessing  of  the  Sabbath  was  a  past  transac- 
tion, is  unquestionable.  There  is  no  hint  concerning  the  existence 
of  it,  but  in  these  two  instances :  and  in  both  these  it  is  immedi- 
ately connected  with  God's  finishing  the  Creation,  and  resting  on 
the  seventh  day. 

4.  That  itteasinstit'itrAal  the  beginning  is  evident  from  the  fact, 
that  other  nations,  mho  cuuIJ  not  have  derived  it  from  Moses,  regard- 
ed the  aetenlh  day  an  holy. 

Hesiod  says,  "  ESStiut  'ifjov  ijfiaj :"  "  The  seventh  day  is  holy." 

Homer  and  CalUmachus  give  it  the  same  title. 

TTuophiliis  of  Jnlioch,  says  concerning  the  seventh  d^y,  "  The 
day,  which  all  mankind  celebrate." 

Porphyry  says,  "  The  Phisnicians  consecrated  one  day  in  seven 
as  holy." 

Linus  says,  "  A  seventh  day  is  observed  among  saints,  or  holy 
people." 

Liuian  says,  "  The  seventh  day  is  given  to  school-boys  as  a 
holy  day." 

Efisebius  says,  "  Almost  all  the  philosophers,  and  poets,  ac- 
knowledge the  seventh  day  as  holy." 

Clemens  Alcxandrinus  says,  "  The  Greeks,  as  well  as  the  He- 
brews,  observe  the  seventh  day  as  holy." 

Josephus  says,  "  No  city  of  Greeks,  or  barbarians,  can  be 
found,  which  does  not  acknowledge  a  seventh-day's  rest  from 
labour." 

Philosijs,  "  The  seventh  day,  is  a  festival  to  every  nation." 

Tibulf\u  says,  "  The  seventh  day,  which  is  kept  holy  by  the 
Jews,  is  also  a  festival  of  the  Roman  women." 

The  several  nations,  here  referred  to,  cannot,  it  is  plain,  have 
follenupon  this  practice  bv  chance.  It  is  certain,  they  did  not 
derive  it  from  the  Jews.     It  follows,  therefore,  that  they  received 


358  FOOttTH  COBtMANDiaflhl  [SBK  CfB* 

it  hy  tradition  from  a  common  source :  and  that  source  must  have 
been  Xoak  and  his  family. 

III.  To  the  argument  from  the  insertion  of  this  command  in  the 
decalogue,  Dr.  raley  answers,  that  the  distinction  between  po9iiiv$ 
and  moral  precepts^  or  in  his  language,  hetween  positive  and  nahh 
ral  dutiesj  was  unknown  to  the  simplicity  i^ ancient  language :  mean- 
ing, I  suppose,  that  it  was  unknown  to  theancients^  md  among  oth' 
ers^  to  Moses :  otherwise  I  cannot  see  how  the  observation  is  ap- 
plicable to  the  question. 

I  confess  myself  surprised  at  this  answer.  Did  not  God  under 
stand  this  distinction,  when  he  wrote  the  decalogue  ?  Did  he  not 
know,  that  this  distinction  would  afterwards  be  made,  and  under> 
stood,  in  all  its  influence  ?  Was  not  the  decalogue  written,  for  all 
who  should  read  the  Scriptures  ?  Was  it  not  so  written,  as  to  be 
adapted  to  the  use  of  all,  for  whom  it  was  written  ?  Did  not  God 
discern,  that  this  distinction  was  founded  in  the  nature  of  things ; 
and  did  he  not  foresee,  that  although  the  Israelites  should  not  per- 
ceive it  during  any  period  of  their  national  existence,  yet  it  still 
would  be  perceived  by  innumerable  others  of  mankind  ?  Did  he 
not  proviae  effectually  for  this  fact,  whenever  it  should  happen ; 
and  for  all  the  difficulties,  a^  i  lo^jbts,  which  might  arise  frx>m  the 
want  of  such  a  distinction  ? 

From  this  observation,  and  several  others,  Dr.  Paley  appears 
to  consider  the  decalogue  as  written  by  Moses  in  the  same  manner 
as  the  other  parts  of  the  Pentateuch  ;  and  as  having  no  more  au- 
thority, than  the  civil  and  ceremonial  law  of  the  Israelites  ;  unless 
where  this  authority  is  discernible  in  the  nature  of  the  commands 
themselves.  As  this  opinion  appears  not  only  erroneous,  but  dan- 
gerous, I  shall  oppose  it  with  the  following  reasons. 

First;  The  Law  of  the  Israelites,  both  Civil  and  Ceremonial, 
is  distinguished  from  the  Decalogue,  in  this  great  particular :  tActf 
was  written  by  Moses  in  a  book :  this  was  first  spoken  by  the  voice 
of  God,  and  then  twice  written  by  his  finger  on  tables  of  stone, 
amid  all  the  awful  splendours  of  Mount  Sinai. 

Secondly ;  Moses^  after  reciting  the  decalogue  in  Deuteronomy 
V.  immediately  subjoins  these  words :  The  Lord  spake  unto  all 
your  assembly  in  the  Mounts  out  of  the  midst  of  thtfire^  of  the  cloud 
and  the  thick  darkness,  with  a  great  voice  :  and  he  added  no  more4 
And  he  wrote  them  on  two  tabUs  of  stone,  and  delivered  them  unte 
me.  And  it  came  to  pass,  when  ye  heard  the  voice  ouJt  of  the  midst 
of  the  darkness,  {for  the  mountain  did  bum  with  f  re)  that  ye  earns 
near  unto  me,  even  all  the  heads  of  your  tribes,  and  your  eUers : 
and  ye  said,  Behold,  the  Lord,  our  Uod,  hath  shewed  us  his  MhtJ/i 
and  his  greatness,  and  we  have  heard  his  voice  out  of  the  mm0  if 
the  fire.  We  have  seen,  this  day,  that  God  doth  talk  with  nian ; 
ana  he  liveth.  Jfow,  therefore,  why  should  we  die  ?  for  this  great 
Jtre  will  consume  us.  If  we  hear  the  voice  of  the  Lord,  our  Ood^ 
any  more,  we  shall  die.     For  who  is  there  of  all  fleshj  that  hath 


8CR.  CVn.]  OBJECTIONS  ANSWERED.  337 

heard  the  voice  of  the  living  God,  speakmg  out  of  the  midst  of  the 
fire,  and  hath  lived  f 

To  this  petition  God  consented ;  and  promised  to  deliver  his  re- 
maining precepts  to  Moses^  and  through  him  to  Israel.  Why  was 
this  distinction  made?  Why  was  the  Decalogue  spoken  by  the 
voice,  and  written  by  the  finger,  of  God?  and  why,  in  the  em- 
p&atical  language  of  Mosts^  did  he  add  no  more  ?  The  only  i*6ason 
which  can  be  alleged,  is  the  transcendent  dienity  and  importance 
of  these  commands.  The  view  which  Jlfo«f«  nimself  had  of  the  to- 
tal distinction  between  the  decalogue,  and  the  rest  of  the  law  writ- 
ten by  him,  is  evident  from  this  fact,  that  he  commanded  the  Israel' 
ties  to  write  them  plainly,  after  they  had  passed  over  Jordan^  upon 
great  stones,  plastered  with  plaster,  and  set  up  by  the  Congregation 
near  the  altar,  which  they  were  directed  to  build.*  Why  were  they 
thus  distinguished  here  ? 

Thirdly ;  Christ  has  distinguished  them  in  a  similar  manner* 
When  the  young  Ruler  came  to  Christ,  and  asked  wliat  good  thing 
he  should  do,  tliat  he  might  have  eternal  life  ;  Christ  said  to  him, 
T%ou  knowest  the  Commandments.  The  ydung  man  asked  which. 
Christ,  in  reply,  repeated  five  of  the  Commands  in  the  second  table, 
and  the  summary  which  contains  them  all.  This  shows  beyond  a 
dcmbt,  that  the  Commandments  was  a  name  appropriated  to  the 
Decalogue;  and  denoted  the  same  superiority  to  all, other  com- 
mands, as  the  name,  the  Bible,  or  the  Book,  denotes  with  respect  to- 
all  other  books. 

Again ;  Chiist,  in  answer  to  the  Scribe,  who  asked  him,  Which 
is  the  first  and  great  Commandment,  recites  the  two  great  com- 
mands, which  Moses  had  made  the  sum  of  the  Decalogue ;  and 
adds.  On  these  two  Commands  hang  all  the  law  and  the  rropheism 
In  other  words.  On  these  two  Commands  is  suspended  the  whole  voU 
ume  of  the  Old  Testament.  What  can  be  a  stronger  testimony 
of  the  superiority  of  the  decalogue  to  every  other  part  of  that 
volume  ? 

Fourthly ;  St.  Paul,  Rom.  xiii.  9,  says.  For  this,  thou  shalt  not 
commit  adultery,  thou  shalt  not  kill,  thou  shalt  not  steal,  thou  shalt. 
not  bear  false  witness,  thou  shalt  not  covet,  and  if  there  be  any  other 
commandment,  it  is  briefly  comprehended  m  this  saying  /  namely, 
TTum  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  Here,  the  Apostle,  after 
reciting  five  of  the  commands,  contained  in  the  second  table  of  the 
Decalogue,  adds,  If  there  be  any  other  commandment.  Is  not  this 
direct  proof,  that  he  regarded  the  Decalogue  as  containing  all 
those  which  were  by  way  of  eminence  the  commandments  ofGodj 
aii4  M  separated  by  a  broad  line  of  distinction  firom  every  other 

I  II  II    \Mmik  f 

preccpii 

Fifthly ;  It  is  well  known,  that  the  Jews  always  considered  the 
Decalogue  as  entirely  separated  firom  every  other  part  of  the  Okl 

See  Kennieott'i  DinertatioBfb 

Vol.  III.  33 


■  -^ 


^8  FOimH  COMBfANDBfENi:  [8ER.  CVa 

Testament.  The  prophets,  who  succeeded  Motesj  did  nothing,  as 
moral  teachers,  but  explain  and  enforce  it.  Christ  declared,  that 
toaner  shall  ktaven  and  tarth  pass  away^  than  one  jotj  or  one  tUtUy 
of  this  law  shaUfpasSj  until  all  be  fulfilled.  The  Aposdes  have  en« 
iorced  no  other  precepts,  as  obligatory  upon  Christians.  TheJeot 
have,  at  this  day,  these  commands  written  out  in  large  letters,  and 
hung  lip  in  their  Synagogues,  as  solemn  monitors  to  all,  who  enter 
them,  of  their  duty.  In  a  manner,  correspondent  with  this,  have 
they  ever  been  regarded  by  Christians.  They  are  at  this  day 
proverbially  known  by  the  name  of  the  Ten  Commandmenis^  aiid 
the  Moral  Law* 

St.  Paul,  in  a  passage  which  ought  not  to  be  omitted  on  this  oc- 
casion, Eph.  vi.  1 — 3,  reciting  the  fifth  command,  says,  TM$  is  the 
first  commandment  joith  promise.  But  God  had  given  to  JVooA,  to 
Abraham^  to  Jacobs  to  Moses^  and  to  the  Israelites^  many  commands, 
and  annexed  to  them  many  promises,  before  the  Law  was  deliv- 
ered from  Mount  Sinai*  In  what  sense,  then,  was  the  fifth  com- 
mand the  firsts  to  which  a  protnise  was  annexed  F  Plainly  in  this 
sense  only ;  that  it  is  the  first  in  the  Decalogue,  which  has  this 
mark  of  distinction.  In  the  eye  of  S(.  Paul,  merefore,  the  Deca- 
logue contained  all  those  which  he  thought  proper  to  call  the 
Commandments ;  and  was,  in  his  view,  of  a  character  totally 
distinct,  and  totally  superior  to  every  other  part  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament. 

As  the  Apostle  recites  this  command  to  the  Ephesians,  who  were 
Gentiles,  as  obli^tory  on  them  no  less  than  on  the  Jews ;  it  is 
clear,  that  the  whole  Decalogue,  unless  some  part  of  it  has  been 
plainly  disannulled,  is  entirely  obligatory  on  Christians.  Had 
there  been  anv  distinction  in  this  respect  between  the  different 
precepts  of  this  law ;  St.  Paid  must,  it  would  seem,  have  made  it 
on  this  occasion.  He  would,  at  least,  have  made  it  somewhere; 
and  not  have  left  so  important  a  subject  without  a  single  note  of 
illustntion. 

IV.  Dr.  Paley  says,  that  St.  Paul  evidently  appears  to  consider 
the  Sahhnth  as  a  part  of  the  Jewish  ritual,  ana  not  binding  upon 
Chfiitiuns,  as  such  :  Let  no  man,  therefore,  judge  you  in  meat,  or  in 
drink^  or  in  respect  of  an  holy  day,  or  of  the  new  moon,  or  of  the 
Sabbath  days  ;  which  are  a  shadow  of  things  to  come^  but  the  body  tr 
of  Christ.   Col.  ii.  16,  17. 

To  this  observation,  I  answer,  first,  that  this  passage  refers  noC 
ip  any  sense  to  the  Sabbath;  but  merely  to  the  ordinary  holidays 
of  the  Jews.  The  burden  of  proving  the  contrary  lies  upon  tne 
^ciples  of  Dr.  Paley. 

Secondly  ;  If  this  oe  denied ;  I  assert,  that  it  refers  to  the  ae- 
v^th  day  only,  and  not  at  all  to  the  Christian  Sabbath.  Until  the 
ci^thiry  is  p![V>v«!d,  I  shall  txmsidcr  this  answer  as  sufficient ;  espe* 
cially,  as  the  Christian  Sabbath  is  not  in  the  Scriptures,  and  was 


8£IL  CFTI.]  OBJECTIONS  ANSWERED.  gj^ 

not  by  the  primitive  Church,  called  the  Stdfbath;  but  the  first  da^ 
of  the  jveekj  and  the  Lor(Ps  day. 

V.  The  same  writer  says,  that  the  observation  of  the  Sabbath  was 
not  one  i)f  the  articles^  enjoined  by  the  Apostles^  in  Acts  xv.  upon  ths 
Christia7i  Gentiles. 

1  answer;  Neither  was  abstinence  from  theft j  murder^  lyings  co* 
vetingy  profanenesSj  or  idolatry. 

Vi.  Dr.  Paley  asserts  that  the  observation  of  the  Sabbath  is  noi 
expressly  enjoined  in  the  New  Testament. 

To  this  I  answer,  first,  that  the  text  is  in  my  own  view  an  ex- 
plicit injunction  of  this  duty.  But  as  this  opinion  has  been  con- 
tested ;  as  the  paragraph,  in  which  it  is  contained,  is  confessedly 
obscure  ;  it  would  require  one  whole  discourse  of  this  nature  to 
consiMcr  it  sufficiently ;  and  as  the  text  was  written  many  years 
after  the  Christian  Sabbath  was  efiectually  established ;  I  ob- 
serve. 

Secondly ;  That  the  Christian  Sabbath  was  originally  introduced 
into  the  Church  much  more  successfully,  and  happily,  tnan  it  could 
have  been  done  by  ^n  express  injunction. 

In  order  to  judge  of  this  subject,  it  is  necessanr  to  bring  tip  to 
our  view  the  situation  of  those,  to  whom  the  Gospel  was  first 
preached.     These  were  all  Jews ;   intensely  bigoted  to  every 

En  of  their  religion,  and  peculiarly  to  their  Sabbath.  The  day 
d  been  appointed  by  God  himself;  and  was  acknowledged  to 
be  divinely  appointed,  by  Christ  and  his  Apostles.  The  experi- 
ment of  interfering  with  the  feelings  of  the  Jews  concerning  the 
Sabbath,  even  in  tne  most  lawful  manner,  had  been  sufficiently 
tried  by  Christ  to  discourage  the  Apostles  from  every  unnecessary 
attempt  of  this  nature.  Accordingly,  the  Apostles  pursued  a 
peaceful  and  unobjectionable,  method.  They  celebratea,  at  times, 
and  probably  always,  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  when  they  were  among 
Jews.  The  Jews  at  the  same  time,  without  any  objection,  yielct 
ed  to  their  example,  and  authority,  in  celebrating  the  Christian 
worship  on  the  day  of  Christ's  resurrection.  They  were  circum- 
cised ;  but  they  were  also  willingly  baptized.  They  celebrated  the 
Passover ;  but  willingly  added  to  it  the  Lord*s  Supper.  They 
prayed  in  the  temple;  but  they  willingly  united,    also,  in  the 

Erayers  and  praises  of  Christian  assenoDiies,  holden  in  private 
ouses,  or  in  tne  fields.  While  the  Jewish  service  was  neitner  at- 
tacked, nor  neglected,  they  made  not  the  least  objection  to  that  of 
the  Christian  Unurch.  In  this  manner,  all  these  ordinances  grew 
mto  use,  veneration,  and  habit ;  and,  in  the  end,  gained  such  a  pos- 
session of  the  mind,  and  such  a  strength  of  authority,  as  could 
neither  be  overthrown,  nor  weakened. 

When  the  Aposdes  came  to  declare  in  form,  that  the  Jewish 
worship  was  to  cease ;  the  minds  of  the  Church  were  so  well 
prepared  to  receive  this  declaration,  that  it  was  carried  into  a  ge« 
neral  execution.    Difficulties,  and  divisions,  arose,  indeed,  about 


•  f 


« 


« 


FOURTH  COMMANDMENT. 


[SER.  CVtt 


this  subject  in  several  Churches  ;  parlicularly  about  circumcision: 
and  produced  a  course  of  serious  conlention.  What  would  have 
been  the  case,  had  this  piirt  of  the  syslem  been  begun  at  an 
earlier  period  ? 

About  the  Christian  Sabbalh  do  dispute  appears  to  have  exist- 
ed, during  the  three  first  centuries.  All  the  Churches  appear  to 
have  adonted  it,  and  to  have  neglected  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  with- 
out any  difficulty.  Was  not  this  method  of  introducing  so  impoi^ 
lant  a  change  dictated  by  true  wisdom ;  and  a  better  method  thaa 
any  other? 

The  esample  of  the  Aposllca  is  an  example  to  all  Chtistians. 
Were  we,  then,  to  give  up  the  point,  contested  in  the  objection ;  we 
have  still  such  a  law  in  this  Example  ;  and  so  efficacious  that  pro- 
bably no  doctrine  has  been  more  generally  received,  than  that  of 
the  (Jhristian  Sabbalh,  and  no  duty  more  generally  performed,  than 
the  observation  of  it,  down  to  the  present  time. 

The  absolute  necessity  of  establishing  the  doctrines  and  du- 
ties of  Christianity  among  the  Jews,  in  the  infancy  of  the  Church, 
has  been  shown  in  a  former  discourse.  I  shall  only  add,  that  it 
seems  impossible  to  have  introduced  among  that  people  the  Chris- 
tian Sabbalh  in  any  other  manner,  than  that  which  was  adopted  by 
the  Apostles,  unless  their  whole  character  had  been  miraculously 
changed. 


1 


SERMON  CVin. 


rODRTH    CONMAKDMKNT. THE    MANNER    IN    WHICH    THf    SABUTK 

18    TO    BE    OBaBRVEO. 


Uaias  l»ia.  13,  14.—lflh<iv  turn  oicoy  My  faot/nm  Iht  Sabbath,  from  doing  th» 
Vluuurc  on  mg  Ao/y  day,  and  call  the  Sabbath  a  Detighl,  Iht  Hal)/  »f  Ike  Urd, 
SmiaHrable  ;  and  iliall  honour  him,  not  dmngthiae  oim  ifoyi,  it»r  finding  thutt 
ntnaUanre,  nor  peaking  Mine  nun  uordt ;  Then  ihatl  thou  dttigU  thgul/in  t&« 
l^4j  and  I  uill  tauie  thee  lo  ride  upon  the  high  plaeci  of  Ihct^h,  and  feed  Ihet 
WM  Ac  heritegt  of  Jaiob,  ihg  Fathtr;  for  Iht  mouth  a/ the  Lard  hath  ipoktn  it 

In  the  first  of  the  discourses,  which  I  have  delivered  concent 
iog  the  fourth  Command,  I  proposed, 

J.  To  consider  the  Perpetual  Establishment  of  iht  Sabbath  ;  and, 

!l.  The  Manner,  in  tchich  it  ii  to  be  observed. 

The  former  of  these  doctrines,  together  with  the  objections 
against  it,  has  been  made  the  subject  of  the  three  preceding  ser- 
mons.    The  latter  ^hall  be  the  theme  of  the  present  discourse. 

The  text  is  the  most  minute,  and  perfect  summary  of  the  duties, 
incumbent  on  mankind  with  respect  to  this  holy  day,  which  is 
contained  in  the  Scriptures.  It  is  a  prediction  to  the  Jetm,  an- 
nouncing, (hat  if  they  will  perform  these  duties,  God  will  greatly 
prosper  them  with  spiritual  and  temporal  blessings,  in  the  land  ot 
their  lathers.  In  my  own  opinion,  it  especially  respects  a  period, 
yei  to  come.     In  examining  this  subject,  1  shall  endeavour, 

I.  To  point  out  the  Jfature,  and  Extent,  of  thest  duties  }  and, 

II.  To  ekow  that  Ihry  are  binding  upon  us. 

1.  J  shall  endeavour  to  point  out  the  J\'ature,and  Extent^  ofihtM 

In  examining  this  subject,  I  abaU  adopt  the  scheme  of  (heteKti 
aid  mention, 

I.   The  things,  from  which  we  are  to  tAttain;  and, 

3.   The  Ikingt  which  we  are  loperform. 

I .  IVe  are  bound  to  abstainfrom  sin,  in  thought,  convtrsationf  and 
cwnducl. 

All,  who  read  the  Gospel,  know,  or  may  know,  perfectly,  that 
sin  may  be  as  easily,  and  as  extensively,  committed  in  ihoucht,  as 
in  word,  or  action  ;  and  that  the  real  seat  of  sin  is  in  the  neart. 
With  the  reformation  of  our  hearts,  then,  we  are  always  to  bcgla 
our  duly.  We  may  as  ^yfiily,  and  grossly,  profane  the  Sabbath, 
so  far  as  ourselves  only  are  concerned,  by  thoughts,  which  are 
UDSuiicd  to  its  nature,  as  we  can  by  any  actions  whatever.  If  OUT 
tniods  are  intent  on  our  business,  or  our  pleasures ;  if  otir  aflec- 


983  THE  BfANTVER  01  WHICH  THE  [SER.  CfM 

tions  wander  after  them ;  if  we  are  cold,  or  lukewarm,  wid|  le- 
spect  to  our  religious  duties  ;  if  we  are  negligent  of  a  serioot  nd 
cordial  attention  to  tbem ;  if  we  regard  witn  impatience  the  in- 
terruption, occasioned  to  our  secular  concerns ;  if  we  wish  the  insti- 
tution had  not  been  appointed,  or  the  time,  in  which  it  is  to  be  kep^ 
lessened  ;  then,  plainly,  we  do  not  esteem  the  Sabbath  a  Delight^ 
nor  abstain  from  finding  our  own  pleasure.  So  long  as  this  is  the 
state  of  our  thoughts  ;  all  our  outward  conformity  to  this  precept; 
(for  such  is  really  the  nature  of  the  text)  will  be  merely  hypocriti- 
cal. Every  oblation  from  such  a  mind  will  be  Tarn  ;  and  all 
its  incense  an  abomination.  '  The  Sabbaths^  and  the  calling  of  as' 
Mmblies,  among  persons  who  act  in  this  manner,  will  be  sucll,  as 
Cfod  cannot  away  with;  and  their  solemn  meeting  will  be  iniqmhf. 
.  The  heart  gives  birth  to  all  the  movements  of  the  tongue.  We 
pro&ne  the  Sabbath,  whenever  we  employ  the  time  in  Worldly 
thnversation.  Such  conversation  is,  in  the  text,  denoted  by  the 
phrase,  speaking  thine  own  words :  thine  own  being  supplied  by  the 
translators.  I  think  this  supplement  rational ;  since  in  the  two 
preceding  clauses  we  find  doing  thine  qwv  way s,  diud  Jinding  thine 
own  pleasure.  Bishop  Lowth^  from  similar  phraseology  m  the 
ninth  verse,  supposes  it  should  be  vain  words.  The  meaning,  how- 
ever, will  difier  immaterially. 

Such  conversation  is,  like  our  thoughts,  directed  indifferently  to 
subjects  of  business,  and  of  pleasure ;  and  in  both  cases  the  oab- 
bath  is  subverted,  and  so  far  as  this  conversation  extends,  is  chang- 
ed from  a  holy,  into  a  secular,  day.  God  is  robbed  of  his  riehts, 
and  of  his  service:  and  we  are  prevented  from  attaining,  and  rnxn 
a  disposition  to  attain,  the  holiness,  which  is  indispensaole  to  sal- 
vation. 

There  is  no  way,  in  which  the  Sabbath  is  more  easily,  more 
insensiblvy  more  frequently,  and  more  fatally  violated,  than  this. 
Temptations  to  it  are  always  at  hand.  The  transgression  always 
seems  a  small  one ;  usually  a  dubious  one  at  the  worst;  and,  oilen, 
no  transgression  at  all.  Multitudes  of  persons,  of  sober  and  well- 
meaning  dispositions,  nay,  multitudes,  as  there  is  but  too  much 
reason  to  fear,  of  professing  Christians,  beginning  with  religious 
subjects,  slide  unperceptibly  towards  those,  which  are  considered 
as  moral  in  such  a  degree,  as  scarcely  to  differ  from  religious  ones; 
thence  to  secular  themes,  bordering  upon  these;  and  thence  to 
mere  matters  of  business,  or  amusement.^Such  persons,  before 
they  are  aware,  find  themselves  occupied  in  conversing  about  the 
affairs  of  the  neighbourhood ;  the  strangers,  who  are  at  Churchy 
the  new  dresses ;  fashions  ;  business  ;  diversions ;  news,  and  pol- 
itics. To  these  they  are  led  by  mere  worldly  conversation  con- 
cerning the  pravers ;  the  psalmody ;  or  the  sermon ;  as  having 
been  well  or  ill  devised,  written,  spoken,  or  performed ;  by  a  his- 
tory, merely  secular,  of  the  sickness  and  deaths  in  the  neighbour- 
hoody  or  elsewhere,  or  of  the  dangerous  or  fatal  accidents,  which 


V 


CVin.]  SABBATH  18  10  B£  0B8ERVID  S6S 

haev^hlely  happened ;  the  state  of  the  weather ;  the  season ;  the 
cropt}  the  prospects  ;  the  affairs  of  the  family ;  and  by  innumer- 
able other  tnings  of  a  similar  nature.  The  next  step  is,  ordinarily, 
an  habitual  employment  of  this  holy  day  in  open,  cool,  and  self- 
satisfied,  conversation  about  business ;  schemes  of  worldly  pur- 
suits ;  bargains ;  gains,  and  losses.  It  is  not  to  be  understood, 
that  Christiaru  go  all  these  lengths.  It  is  my  r^al  belief,  however, 
that  they  go  much  farther,  than  they  can  jusdfy ;  and  fail,  in  this 
manner,  of  their  duty ;  their  improvement  in  the  Christian  lifd ; 
their  proper  exemplariness  of  character;  the  evidence  of  their 
piety,  which  would  spring  from  these  sources ;  the  hope,  which  it 
would  inspire  ;  the  peace,  which  would  accompany  them ;  and  the 
joy,  ia  which  they  would  delightfully  terminate.  Many  sober 
men,  however,  who  but  for  this  very  conduct  might  probably  be- 
come Christians,  go  all  these  lengths  ;  and  thus  lose,  insensiUj) 
their  tenderness  of  conscience;  their  soberness  of  mind  ;  and  their 
desire,  as  well  as  their  hope,  of  eternal  life.  Men  less  well-prin- 
cipled start,  orieinally,  at  ike  end  of  this  career ;  and  thus  annihi- 
late the  Sabbath  at  once  :  bidding,  without  anxiety,  a  final  adieu  to. 
the  Sabbath  itself,  and  to  its  rich,  exalted,  and  immortal  blessings^ 
The  profanation  of  the  Sabbath  by  Actions  is  seen,  and  acknow-i 
ledged,  by  all  decent  men,  who  acknowledge  it  as  a  day,  conse- 
crated by  God  to  himself.  Actions  are  so  open  to  the  view  of 
mankind ;  are  so  definitive  a  proof  of  the  disposition ;  and,  when 
riolations  of  a  known  rule  of  duty,  constitute  so  gross  a  proof  of 
impiety ;  that  all  doubts  concerning  the  true  construction,  to  be 

g'ven  of  them,  vanish  whenever  they  appear.  The  common  and 
vourite  modes  of  profaning  the  Saboath,  in  this  way,  are  spending 
our  time  in  dress  ;  in  niinisterine  to  a  luxurious  appetite  ;  in  walk- 
ing, or  riding,  for  amusement ;  m  writing  letters  of  friendship ;  in 
visiting ;  ana  in  reading  books,  which  are  not  of  a  religious,  but 
merely  of  a  decent,  character;  and,  ultimately,  those  which  are 
formed  to  be  the  means  of  amusement  and  sport.  The  end  of  thl^ 
progress,  generally  esteemed  more  gross,  though  perhaps  in  manjn 
mstances  not  more,  and  in  others  less,  sinful ;  is  the  devotion  of 
diis  sacred  day  to  downright  business.  Persons,  who  go  thisj 
length,  occupy  the  time  in  writing  letters  of  business ;  posting 
their  accounts  ;  visiting  post-offices  ;  making  bar^ins ;  transmit-^ 
tmg  money  to  their  correspondents  ;  going  or  senaing  to  markets ; 
maRing  journeys,  at  first  with,  and  afterwards  without,  pretences  of 
necessity ;  and,  ultimately  labouring  openly  in  the  ordinary  em-- 
ployments  of  life.  This  is  what  is  called  in  the  text  doing  our  azon 
ways,  A  mav?8  way^  in  scriptural  language,  is  the  customary  course 
of  his  life. 

All  these  things,  whether  existing  in  thought,  word,  or  action^ 
are  called  our  own^  in  contradistinction  to  those  which  are  God^t: 
that  is,  to  those,  which  are  required  of  us  by  God :  and-  every 
one  of  them  is  prohibited  in  the  text. 


^■84  VHB  MAlfHSR  UTVHICEB  9BB  PSR.  OIPL 

S«  ITe  art  required  to  abstain  frmkJdlenen* 
Although  the  Sabbath  is  never  to  be  spent  in  secular  businessi  or 
amusement;  it  is  still  to  be,  invariably,  a  day  of  industrious  exe^ 
tion.  There  are  some  persons,  who  feel  too  much  regard  to  the 
dictates  of  their  consciences,  to  public  opinion,  to  the  commands 
of  God,  or  to  ail  of  them,  to  consume  the  Sabbath  in  business,  or 
amusement.  Slil^  liaving  no  relish  for  the  duties  of  the  day,  they 
spend  it  in  idlenchls  satisfied  with  abstaining  from  Aose,  which 
they  esteem  the  grosser,  and  more  direct,  violations  of  this  divine 
Institution.  Accoldingly,  they  lounge  about  their  houses,  gardens, 
or  ftums ;  and  waste  the  season  of  salvation  in  sloth,  sleep,  or  such 
a  coune  of  existence  as  resembles  that  of  the  oyster :  a  sote,  bor- 
dering upon  the  line  which  separates  animate!!  beings  Ann  those 
•which  are  inanimate.  This  course  jof  conduct  is  an  anniunstion  of 
^tbe  Sabbath ;  the  death  of  the  day ;  and  a  frustration  of  all  the  de- 
signs, and  blessings,  of  God,  connected  with  this  heavenl3r  Institu- 
tion. The  Sabbath  was  intended  to  be  the  meansof  honouring  Grod, 
•nd  of  saving  the  souls  of  men.  But  idleness  is  always  cfishoD- 
ourable  to  God,  and  hostile  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul.  Both  of 
these  great  objects  are  accomplished  by  him  only,  who  is  110/  slotk' 
fid  m  Inumtss^  but  fervent  in  spirit ,  serving  the  Lord. 

3.  We  are  bound  to  abstain^  with  peculiar  cautionj  firommBkmm 
lodged  sins  if»on  this  holy  davm  - :  - ' 

The  abs^nence,  which  I  nave  hitherto  specified,  regards  busi- 
ness and  amusement,  ordinarily  lawful  on  other  days*    From  that 
conduct,  and  those  thoughts,  which  are  umveriaUy  ^infill,  we  are 
bound  to  abstain,  with  peculiar  care,  upon  the  Sabb^l.}  because, 
then,  they  are  peculiarly  henious.    The  sacred  nature  of  this  day, 
and  the  solemn  consecration  of  it  by  God  to  himself,  together  with 
all  the  advantages,  which  we  enjoy  for  religious  instruction,  and 
for  all  the  duties  of  piety,  fiimish  such  a  body  of  motives  to  oar 
abstinence  firom  sin,  as  cannot  be  resisted  without  peculiar  guilta 
Every  sin,  committed  upon  this  day,  is  aggravated  by  the  fact,  tk|t  > 
we  have  resisted  these  motives.  *  At  the  same  time,  we  are,  byJIl  ^j 
very  nature,  so  withdrawn  fi*om  the  world,  so  secured  agaifft   I 
temptation,  and  so  much  at  leisure  for  solemn  meditation,  and  lor    ^ 

rlbe  establishment  of  firm  resolutions  of  obedience  in  our  miodi) 
that,  if  we  sin  upon  this  day,  we  sin  with  fewer  inducements  to  the 

.iniquity,  than  upon  other  occasions.    He,  who  indulges  his  wick* 

ifidness  on  the  Sabbadli,  will  be  m  danger  of  rioting  m  it  on  the 
other  days  of  the  week. 

It  hardly  needs  to  be  remarked,  that  sinful  ways  are  peculiailf 

<mtr  <ND»,  and  esEMnently  opposed  to  those,  which  are  required  qf 
Qod. 
^ In  all  the. above  recited  particulars,  those,  who  are  guil^ of 

4bsBi,  openly  violate  the  law  of  God ;  squander  the  accepted  tiine; 

<iraste,  ^fiuad  abuse,  the  means  of  grace ;  and  lessen^  Sabbath  l|f 

Shtbbath,  their  hopes  of  eternal  life. 


> 


8EX.  CTQI.]  SABBATH  IS  TO  BE  OBS£Rr£D. 

The  Duties  vhich  vie  are  to  perform,  art,  gtntrally,  all  Ike  vari' 
om  ^ces 'if  Religion.  Good  lueii,  in  aiicieiil  times,  entered,  on 
the  Sabbath  day,  into  the  house  of  the  Lord  with  praise  and  prayer. 
The  Law,   the  Psahns,  and  the  Proplicts,  were  read  in  the  Suna- 

Sruet  evert/  Sabbath  day.  They  feared  God  in  the  assemblu  of 
tainU  :  they  praiaed  him  for  his  mighty  ads  ;  'Mlered  abunmnt- 
iv  the  memory  of  his  great  goodness  ;  and  sungjffhis  righteousness. 
TVity  wait  on  from  strength  to  strength  j  every  ont  ijfthcm  inZion 

Z earing  before  God.  They  esteemed  a  day  m  )ftttourts  as  better 
n  a  thousand.  Their  souls  longed^  yea,  ivtn  fainted,  for  the 
courts  of  the  Lord  ;  their  heart  and  their  fesh  cried  out  for  the  liv- 
%ng  God.  Accordingly,  Vie  Lord  God  i^as  to  them  a  sun,  and  a 
shield,  Ht  gave  xhera  grace  and  glory  ;  and  withheld  from  them 
no  gooS  thing.  In  the  same  manner  the  early  Christians  esteemed 
the  Sabfiath  a  delight,  and  the  holy  of  the  Lord  konourabU.  In  the 
times  of  the  Apostles,  they  continued  in  felloieship,  in  prayer,  and 
in  breaking  of  bread.  They  sung  psalms,  and  hymns,  and  spiritual 
songs.  Thej^  prophesied  ;  taught  the  doctrines  of  the  Scriptures ; 
uttwed,  and  interpreted,  Revelation ;  and  collected  alms  for  such 
saints  as  nere  in  peculiar  circumstances  of  distress.  All  these 
examples  abundantly  show  us,  that  good  men,  during  the  ages  of 
inaauration,  steadily  accorded,  and  thought  it  ihcir  duty  to  accord, 
with  the  reciuisitions,  contained  in  the  text.  What  was  their  duly 
is  ours.  All  these  solemn  services,  therefore,  and  others  connect- 
ed with  them,  it  is  Incumbent  on  us  to  perform  in  spirit,  and  in 
truth.  We  are  to  join  ourselves  to  the  Lord,  to  serve  him,  according 
to  the  prediction  o^ Isaiah  concerning  us,  and  the  other  Gentiles; 
lo  love  the  name  of  the  Lord  ;  to  keep  the  Sabbath  from  polluting  it  ; 
and  to  Inke  hold  of  his  covenant.     Particularly, 

I.   IVe  are  lo  perform  all  the  duties  of  Public  fVorshio. 

The  S-ihbath,  as  has  been  observed,  was  originally  appointed 
for  the  commemoration  of  the  divine  glory,  manifestecf  in  creating 
the  world  ;  and  for  the  attainment,  and  improvement,  of  holiness 
JB  man.  The  manner,  in  which  we  should  commemorate  the  glory 
•^God  in  (he  work  of  Creation,  on  this  day,  is  sufficiently  taught 
us  by  the  manner,  in  which  the  first  Sanbath  was  celebrated. 
T6en,  we  are  informed,  the  Morning  Stars  sang  together,  and  all 
the  Sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy.  In  the  same  manner  was  the  work 
of  the  New  Creation,  and  the  divine  glory  displayed  in  it,  cele- 
brated by  the  Same  illustrious  beings,  according  to  the  prophetical 
account  given  in  the  sisiy-eiehth  Psalm,  of  this  wonderful  event : 
an  account,  expressly  applie'lto  it  by  the  Apostle  Paul  in  the  third 
chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians.  The  Chariots  jf  God  are 
Inenly  thixtmnd  ;  even  thousands  of  Angels.  TH»  Lord  is  among 
tktm,  as  in  Sinai ;  as  in  the  holy  place.  The  very  hymn,  which 
ihey  stuf^.  seems  to  be  trans.nitted  to  us  in  the  following  words: 
T^u  liiKl  ascended  on  high;  thou  hast  led  captivity  captive  ;  th<ni 

Vol..  111.  34 


'./ 


366  THE  BIAKNER  IN  WH1€»  THS  [SER.  C?nL 

hast  received  gifis  for  men  ;  yea^  for  the  rebellicibf  also  ;  thai  the 
Lord  God  might  dwell  among  them. 

The  manner,  in  which  holiness  and  salvation  are  to  be  obtained, 
is  every  where  taught  in  the  Gospel.  The  truth  of  God,  in  the 
hands  of  the  divine  Spirit,  is  the  great  instrument,  by  which  we 
are  madt  free  from  the  bondage  of  corruption*  Faithj  we  know, 
Cometh  by  hearing  ;  and  hearing ,  by  the  Word  of  God.  This  Word 
is,  therefore,  to 'be  faithfully  explained,  and  enforced,  by  the 
Preacher ;  and  feathfully  received  W  those  who  hear  him.     The 

f)rayers,  and  the  praises,  of  every  religious  assembly,  are  to  spring 
rom  the  heart ;  and  are  to  ascend  up  before  the  throne  of  infinite 
mercy,  with  dependence,  with  confiaence,  with  love,  with  rever- 
ence, with  gratitude,  with  hope,  and  with  joy.  Our  prayers,  and 
our  praises,  are  also  to  be  presented  in  the  name  of  Christ,  as  the 
great  and  glorious  Propitiation  for  the  sins  of  men^  and  the  true  and 
Jiving  way  of  access  to  God.  They  are  to  be  presented  with  faith 
in  his  name ;  that  faith  which  occupies  the  whole  heart,  and  alone 
interests  us  in  the  blessings  of  Redemption. 

Christians,  at  the  same  time,  are  to  unite  in  the  administiMraiiy 
and  celebration,  of  the  Evangelical  ordinances ;  Baptism  and  the 
Lord's  Supper :  ^nd  are  thus  in  a  peculiar  and  most  afiecting  man- 
ner to  commemorate  the  glory  of  Christ,  manifested  in  the  wonder- 
ful work  of  the  new  Creation. 

Jill  these  things  are  to  be  done  decently^  and  in  order*     At  the 
same  time,  they  are  to  be  performed  with  plainness,  simplicity, 
and  no  unnecessary  rites.     The  Jewish  worship  was  intended  by 
its  ceremonious  magnificence  to  strike  the  imaeinatioa  during  the 
earlv  and  ignorant  periods  of  society.     To  this  end  it  was  pe^ 
fectfy  fitted.    All  its  services  were  calculated  to  affect  the  senses 
in  the  deepest  manner,  and  to  find,  through  them,  access  to  the 
heart.     The  Gospel,  on  the  contrary,  is  addressed  directly  to  the 
Understanding;  and  makes  its  way  to  the  heart  by  means  of  the 
power  of  Conscience.     Unnecessary  rites  are,  here,  both  useless 
and  noxious :  since  they  allure  the  thoughts  away  from  the  doc- 
trines and  precepts,  which  are  inculcated,  to  the  ceremonies  by 
which  they  are  surrounded.     In  this  manner,  the  spiritual  worship 
of  the  Gospel  is  ever  in  danger  of  becoming  a  mere  bodily  exercise^ 
unprofitable  in  itself,  and  oestructive  of  piety.     The  ceremonies 
of  the  Romish  Church  exterminated  itb  devotion;  and  became, 
extensively,  the  cause,  as  well  as  the  effect,  of  that  corruption, 
which  by  men  of  real  religion  has  been  justly  regarded  as  a 
prodigv. 

%  On  this  holy  day^  alsoj  we  are  bound  to  perform  the  variouM 
Private  duties  of  Religion. 

The  worahip  of  the  familjr,  and  that  of  the  closet,  are  the  duty 
of  all  families,  and  of  all  individuals,  every  day  they  live.  Equal- 
ly is  it  the  duty  of  all  men  to  sp<*nd  a  part  of  every  day  in  self- 
examination  ;  in  religious  meditation ;  and  in  contemplation  on  the 


M 


SOL  CVni]  SABBATH  IS  TO  BE  OBSERVEU  267 

perfections  and  works  of  God,  on  the  chaircter  of  Christ  and  the 
wonders *of  Redemption.  The  Scriptures  especially,  and  other 
religious  books  generally,  are  toi>e  read,  ponaered,  and  cordially 
received.  The  amendment  of  the  soul,  and  victory  over  sin  and 
temptation,  are  to  be  planned,  resolved  on,  and  achieved.  We 
are  to  humble  ourselves  before  God;  to  devote  ourselves  anew  to 
his  service ;  to  cherish  the  duties  of  religion ;  and  universally  to 
cultivate  the  Christian  character. 

At  the  same  time,  children  and  servants  are  to  be  carefully  in 
structed  in  the  great  and  plain  doctrines  and  duties  of  religion  ;  to 
be  restrained,  in  the  same  manner  as  ourselves,  from  all  worldly 
pursuits ;  and  to  be  presented  by  us  with  such  persuasive  examples! 
of  piety,  as  may  engage  them  to  reverence,  and  embrace,  the 
Gospel. 
ys^tJniversally,  our  time,  our  thoughts,  our  conversation,  and  our 
actions,  are  all  to  be  devoted  to  God.  This,  indeed,  is,  in  a  sense, 
true  of  every  day.  But  on  other  days  it  is  our  duty  to  labour  in 
019^  worldly  business;  and,  whilo  our  thoughts  are  engaged  i>y 
panuits  of  this  nature,  it  is  impobsible  that  they  should  be  also 
engaged  by  religious  subjects  with  sufficient  intenseness,  and  con- 
stancy, to  fulfil  all  the  demands,  either  of  our  interest,  or  of  our 
duty.  On  the  Sabbath,  we  are  withdrawn  from  all  worldly  pur- 
suits. A  solemn  pause  is  made  in  the  business  of  life.  A  happy 
season  of  leisure  is  furnished  to  us  for  obtaining  our.  salvation. 
Then  no  worldly  business  is  to  intrude ;  no  worldly  pleasure  to 
solicit;  no  worldly  thought  to  interfere.  The  holy  nature  of  the 
day,  and  the  peculiarly  solemn  nature  of  its  services,  conspire, 
with  eminent  felicity,  to  render  all  the  duties,  which  have  been 
specified,  easy,  undisturbed,  solemn,  impressive,  and  profitable. 
This,  then,  is  to  be  carefully  seized,  and  anxiously  husbanded,  as 
a  golden  opportunity  for  performing  them  all. 

3.  The  Sabbath  is  to  be  employed^  so  far  as  circumstances  demand^ 
in  performing  works  of  Necessity  and  Mercy. 

Oar  authority  for  this  assertion  is  complete  in  the  declaration  of 
God :  /  will  have  mercy ^  and  not  sacrifice.  In  the  illustrations  of 
this  precept  by  our  Saviour  and  in  his  example,  it  is  equally  com- 
plete. What  these  works  are,  beyond  the  direct  import  of  this 
example,  we  are  to  judge  as  carefully  and  conscientiously  as  we 
can.  Generally,  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  as  litde  of  our  time,  as 
the  nature  of  the  case  demands,  is  to  be  employed  in  these  works ; 
and  the  remainder  to  be  devoted  to  those  duties  of  Religion,  which 
were  the  original  objects  of  the  Sabbath.  Wherever  the  time 
required  is  so  great,  as  to  be  disproportioned  to  the  value  of  the 
necessity  in  question ;  it  is  to  be  given  up.  That  necessary  workf 
which  requires  but  a  moment,  may  be  lawful ;  when  it  would  be- 
come unlawful,  if  it  renuired  an  hour.  All  works,  both  of  neces 
sitjr  and  mercy,  are  to  oe  regarded  as  Duties,  which  we  are  bound 


r/^ 


268  T^^^  BIAICNER  IN  WHICH  THE  [SER.  CVIIL 

to  perf(»nn ;  and  never  as  indulgencies,  which  we  are  permitted 
to  take. 

The  Tlfme,  at  which  the  peculiar  duties  of  the  Sabbath  are  to  com- 
mence is,  in  my  opinion^  the  time,  when  darkness  commences  on  the 
evening  of  Saturday.  For  this  opinion,  the  following  reasons  may 
be  alleged. 

First ;  T/ie  natural  day  commenced  with  darkness.  After  God 
had  created  the  chaos,  darkness  rested  upon  it  for  a  certain  period. 
This  darkness,  and  the  light  which  succeeded  it,  are  declared  to 
have  constituted  the  first  day.  In  the  same  manner,  are  reckoned 
the  five  succeeding  days  of  the  Creation. 

Secondly ;  The  Sabbath,  at  its  original  institutiofi,  was  a  natural 
day.  This  is  clear,  because  we  are  told,  that  God  rested  the  sev" 
enth  day :  and  from  the  manner,  in  which  the  six  preceding  days 
were  reckoned,  we  have  the  fullest  proof,  that  He,  who  by  his  own 
choice  reckoned  them  in  this  manner,  reckoned  the  seventh  day  in 
the  same  manner. 

Thirdly  ;  When  the  Sabbath  was  renewedly  enjoined  upon  the  It* 
raelites  ;  it  was  required  to  be  kept  as  a  Natural  day.  This  we 
know,  because  no  alteration  of  the  original  Institution  is  specified 
in  the  fourth  command  ;  and  because,  in  Lev.  xxiii.  32,  God  says 
to  that  people  concerning  the  great  day  of  Atonement,  From  even 
unto  even  snallye  celebrate  your  S(,':bath. 

Fourthly ;  2%c  Jewish  Sabbath  commenced  with  the  darkness  ;  or 
with  the  time,  which  we  denote  by  the  word.  Candle-lighting.  This 
is  evident  from  Xehem.  xiii.  1 9,  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  when  the 

fates  of  Jerusalem  began  to  be  dark  before  the  Sabbath,  &lc.  It  ia 
ere  evident,  that  the  Sabbath  had  not  commenced  on  Friday  eve- 
ning, when  the  gates  of  Jerusalem  began  to  be  dark ;  or,  in  our 
customary  language,  when  the  dusk  of  the  evening  commenced  in 
that  city.  The  Sabbath  also,  as  a  natural  day,  began  originally 
at  the  same  time  :  the  first  day  of  the  Creation  having  commenced 
with  absolute  darkness.  The  time  of  darkness,  to  us,  is  the  time, 
when  we  can  no  longer  see,  so  as  to  transact  business  by  the  light 
of  the  sun. 

Fifthly ;  The  Christian  Sabbath  is  the  first  day  of  the  week  ;  and 
a  natural  day  ;  because  there  is  no  hint  given  us,  in  the  J^ew  Testa- 
ment, of  any  alteration  made,  or  to  be  made  in  this  respect.  Dr. 
Macknight  informs  us  that  the  ancient  Christians  began  their  Sab- 
bath on  the  evening  of  Saturday.  Some  Christians  have  suppos- 
ed, that  the  time,  when  our  Lord  arose  from  the  dead,  is  that,  at 
which  the  present  Sabbath  ought  to  be  begun.  This  is  evidently  an 
error ;  because  that  time  is  not  declared  in  the  New  Testament,  and 
therefore  cannot  be  known  by  us.     Accordingly  these  Christians  be- 

f^in  the  Sabbath  at  midnight :  a  time  of  human  appointment  mere- 
y.     This  seems  to  me  unwarrantable. 

II.  I  shall  now  attempt  to  show,  that  the  Duties  of  the  Sabbath  are 
all  binding  upoji  us. 


8ER.  CTOL]  SABBATH  IS  TQ  BE  OBSfiEYED  359 

On  this  subject  I  observe, 

1  •  That  the  example  of  God  in  resting  from  his  work  of  Creation^ 
and  of  Chnst  in  resting  from  the  work  of  Redemption^  is  authorita^' 
tively  binding  upon  us;  and  requires  us  to  rest  from  our  own  lawful 
labours  in  a  similar  manner. 

3*  The  fourth  Command^  which  has^  I  trusty  been  shown  to  ie. 
equally  obligatory  on  all  men,  requires  the  same  rest  from  us^  which 
it  required  from  the  Israelites. 

3.  The  original  Institution^  the  examples  of  God^  the  Father^  and 
the  Son,  and  the  injunctions  of  the  fourth  Command,  require,  in  sub- 
stance,  all  these  duties. 

The  duties,  which  they  expressly  require,  cannot  be  performed 
to  any  valuable  purpose,  unless  all  the  duties,  specified  in  this  dis- 
course, are  also  performed.  The  true  meaning,  and  real  tetent, 
of  these  examples  and  injunctions,  as  they  respected  the  Jews,  are 
explained  in  the  comments  of  the  Prophets,  particularly  of  the 
Prophet  Isaiah,  concerning  this  subject.  The  text  is  the  most  co- 
pious, and  definite,  exhioition  of  this  nature,  contained  in  the 
Scriptures.  In  chapter  Ivi.  of  the  same  prophet  is  found,  also,  a 
comprehensive  account  of  the  duties:  and  we  have  several  other, 
less  particular,  and  less  impressive,  explanations,  in  other  passages 
of  the  Scriptures.  These  injunctions  and  examples,  then,  demand- 
ed, in  the  view  of  the  Spirit  of  Inspiration,  all  these  duties  of  the 
Israelites.  Of  course,  this  was  the  true  tenour  of  these  examples 
and  injunctions.  But,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  have  proved  both  to  be 
no  less  obligatory  on  Christians,  than  on  the  Israelites.  The  same 
examples  and  injunctions  have,  therefore,  the  same  tenour  with  re- 
spect to  us,  and  bind  us  to  exacdy  the  same  duties. 

4.  The  New  Testament  has  no  where  dispensed  with  any  part  of 
these  duties. 

It  has  been  oflen  thought,  that  Christ  has  released  his  followers 
firom  some  part  of  the  duties  of  the  Sabbath,  and  in  some  degree 
from  that  strictness  of  observing  it,  which  were  originally  required 
of  the  Jews.  Observations  to  this  amount  I  have  not  unfirequendy 
seen,  and  heard ;  but  exclusively  of  the  things  observed  by  Dr. 
Paleyy  and  mentioned  in  the  last  discourse,  I  have  never  been  in- 
formed of  the  particulars,  from  which  Christians  are  thus  supposed 
to  have  been  released ;  nor  do  I  know  in  wiiat  passages  of  the 
New  Testament  they  are  supposed  to  be  contained.  Dr.  Paley 
believes  that  the  Sabbath  was  never  at  all  obligatory  on  Christians. 
According  to  this  scheme,  therefore,  it  was  impossiole  for  Christ  to 
release  them  from  these  duties ;  because  they  were  never  incum- 
bent on  them.  Where  those,  who  make  this  supposition,  find  their 
warrant  for  it  in  the  discourses  of  Christ,  or  of  nis  Apostles,  I  con- 
fess myself  unable  to  determine.  The  observations,  which  our 
Saviour  makes,  as  an  exposition  of  several  parts  of  the  Decalogue, 
m  his  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  he  prefaces  with  these  remarkable 
declarations :  Think  not  that  I  am  come  to  destroy  ihe  law,  or  iho 


270  '^^^  BIANNER  IN  WHICH  THE  [SE|L  CVIIL 

prophets :  I  am  not  come  to  destroy ,,  but  to  fulfil :  for  verily^  I  say 
yntoyou^  Till  heaven  and  earth  pass  ^  one  jot,  or  one  tittle,  shall  in 
nb  wise  pass  from  the  law;  till  all  be  fulfilled.  After  these  declar- 
ations it  is  impossible,  that  Christ  should  be  rationally  believed  to 
have  altered  at  all  the  duties  of  the  Sabbath,  much  less  to  have 
annihilated  it,  unless  he  has  done  it,  somewhere,  in  plain,  unequiv- 
ocal language.  But  no  such  language,  on  this  subject,  can  be 
found  in  the  New  Testament.  Until  something  of  this  nature 
shall  be  definitely  pointed  out ;  the  duties  of  the  Sabbath  must  be 
acknowledged  to  have  been  left  by  Christ,  and  his  Apostles,  ex- 
actly as  they  found  them :  and  all  declarations  to  the  contrary  must 
be  regarded  as  merely  gratuitous  and  presumptive. 

5.  Jis  the  religious  privilegzs  of  Christians  are  declared  to  be  sur 
perior  io  those  of  the  Jews,  they  cannot  be  supposed  to  be  lessened  wUh 
respect  to  the  Sabbath,  unless  this  fact  is  directly  asserted. 

if  the  duties  of  Christians  on  the  Sabbath  are  lessened,  either  m 
number,  or  degree ;  then  their  r(?ligious  privileges  are  rendered 

{"ust  so  far  inferior  to  those  of  the  Jews.     The  duties  of  the  Sab- 
)ath  are  all  privileges  of  a  high  and  glorious  nature ;  and  cannot 
fail  to  be  accounted  such  by  every  good  man.     I  speak  not,  here, 
of  the  regulations  of  the  civil  laws  of  the  Jews :  these  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  the  subject  of  the  present  discussion.     I  speak  of 
the  Sabbath,  as  instituted  on  the  seventh  day  5  as  institutea  imme- 
diately after  the  creation  was  finished ;  as  enjoined  anew  in  the 
fourth  Command  of  the  Decalogue ;   and  as  explained,  and  en- 
forced, by  the  Prophets ;  particularly  by  Isaiah.     It  was  a  high 
religious  privilege  to  a  Jew  to  have  one  whole  day  in  seven  divine- 
ly consecrated  to  the  duties  of  Religion  ;  to  be  required  to  esteem 
the  Sabbath  a  delight,  and  the  holy  of  the  Lord  honourable  ;  atid  to 
turn  away  his  foot  from  finding  his  own  pleasure  on  that  sacred 
day.     It  was  a  combination  of  glorious  privileges  to  a  Jew  to  keep 
the  Sabbath  from  polluting  it ;  to  join  himself  on  that  day  to  the 
Utord  y  to  be  his  servant ;  to  take  hold  of  his  covenant ;  to  b^  brought 
to  the  holy  mountain  of  God  ^   to  be  made  joyful  in  his  house 
of  prayer  ^  to  delight  himself  in  tlie  Lord;  and  to  find  his  vari- 
ous solemn  services  accepted  by  his  Creator.     But  if  these  duties, 
or  any  of  them,  be  lessened  in  number,  or  degree;  just  so  far  are 
the  privileges  of  a  Christian  inferior  to  those  of  a  Jew.     Which  of 
these  privileges  would  a  Christian  be  willing  to  give  up  ?     Which 
of  them  does  the  Gospel  require  him  to  relinquish  ? 

1  shall  conclude  this  discourse  with  a  summary  enumeration  of 
several  Motives,  which  strongly  solicit  our  exact  observance  of  the 
Sabbath. 

1 .  Such  an  observance  of  the  Sabbath  is  required  by  the  Command 

of  God.  I 

2.  //  is  enforced  by  the  Divine  Example. 

God  rested  ^n  the  seventh  day ;  the  day  after  the  Creation  was 
ended.    Chnst  rested  on  the  nrst  day ;  the  day  sifter  the  New 


8£R  CVni.]  SABl^TH  IS  TO  BE  OBSERVED.  S71 

Creation  was  finished.  This  two-fold  Example  of  Jehovah  is  of 
infinite  authority ;  and  enjoins,  in  the  most  expressive  ian^ii.igc,  the 
faithful  imitation  of  all  mankind. 

3.   The  J^atun  of  the  Duties^  enjoined  upon  the  Sabbath,  demands 
9fia  such  an  observance. 

The  duties  of  the  Sabbath  are  all  of  a  religious  and  holy  nature. 
3uch  duties  can  never  be  successfully,  or  profitably,  informed, 
Hrhen  mingled  with  secular  business,  or  amusements.     Tijcse  will 
ix)th  distract  the  attention  of  the  mind,  and  withdraw  it  from  that 
:lear,  strong,  affecting  sense  of  spiritual  and  divine  objects  in  which 
he  peculiar  benefit  of  the  Sabbath  is  found.     The  soul,  in  this 
»se,  will  be  divided  between  God  and  Mammon,  between  the 
ove  of  the  world  and  the  love  of  God.     The  consequence  can- 
lot  but  be  foreseen.     The  world  will  predominate  :  God  will  be 
Drgotten  ;  and  dishonoured,  if  not  forgotten  :  the  soul  will  cease 
rom  a  heavenly  character ;  debase  its  pure  and  exalted  u (lections; 
386  those  refined  and  noble  views  of  celestial  objects,  which  are 
tted,  both  to  inspire,  and  to  cherish,  devotion ;  cease  to  stretch  its 
rings  towards  heaven  ;  and  fall  down  to  earth,  loaded  witii  a  bur- 
en  of  gross  cares,  and  dragged  to  the  ground  by  an  incumbering 
ias8  of  sensual  gratifications. 
At  the  same  time,  it  is  far  easier  to  observe  the  Sabbath  wholly^ 
\an  to  observe  it  in  part.     He,  who  intends  to  divide  it  between 
aurthly  and  spiritual  pursuits,  will  never  know  where  to  draw  the 
ne  oi  division.     Perpetually  will  he  find  himself  wandering,  now 
awards   Religion,   and  now  towards  the  world ;  while  his  con- 
nence  will  be  unceasingly  embarrassed  by  fears,  that  he  has 
eglccted  his  duty,  and  by  doubt  concerning  what  it  is.     There 
no  such  things  as  a  half  wai/ performance  of  our  duty.     If  such 
performance  had  in  fact  been  required,  or  allowed  ;  we  should 
ave  been  distressed  by  unceasing  perplexity.     Happy  is  it  for 
B,  that  an  ordinance  of  this  nature  cannot  be  found  in  the  Scrip- 
ires. 

4.  7%e  blessing  of  the  Sabbath  is  promised  to  such  an  observance. 
The  text  is  an  illustrious  proof  of  this.     If  thou  do  all  the  things^ 

ays  God,  required  in  the  first  verse  ;  then  shalt  thou  delight  thyselj 
\  Jehovah  ;  and  I  will  cause  thee  to  ride  upon  the  high  places  oj  th$ 
9rth.  Not,  if  thou  do  a  part  of  these  things.  There  is  no  prom* 
le  to  a  divided  service  :  there  is  no  blessing  connected  with  it* 
Ic,  therefore,  who  wishes  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his  reli- 
ious  labours,  must  look  for.  it,  only  in  the  strict  ana  faithful  ob- 
nvance  of  the  duties,  which  He  has  required. 

5.  It  is  demanded  by  our  own  highest  Interest. 

The  Sabbath  is  eminently  the  dau  of  salvation.  On  Zion  the 
orrf  commanded  the  blessings  even  life  for  ever  more.  On  that  holy 
liy,  and  in  the  holy  place,  this  incomprehensible  blessing  is  stiu 
»be  found.  Where  that  day  is  not  observed,  and  that  place  is 
H  frequented,  this  blessing. ceases  to  descend.    If  we  love  our 


279  THE  HANNER'  Df  WBH/^j^j^ ,  [SEB.  CVnL 

.  pelves,  then ;  if  we  love  our  families ;  if  ^M^bve  our  country ;  if 
^  '*  we  love  mankind;  we  shall  exert  ourselves,  to  the  utmost,  to  up- 
hold the  SabbalJSl  in  its  purity,  in  our  hearts,  in  our  conversation, 
and  in  our  conduct.  We  shall  keep  the  Sabbath  from  polluting  it; 
shall  observe  it  with  the  most  faithful  exactness ;  and  by  precept, 
and  example,  solemnly  recommend  it  to  the  exact  observance  of 
1\      others. 


» 


« 


4.. 


*r 


\ 


SERMON  CIX. 


rOiniTH    roHUANDllENT. RETtECTtONS    OK   THB    SABBATS. 


^^^^^    EiODDS  IX.  11. —  When/art  Iht  Z-onf  Jiurtd  (A«  Sabtalh  4tg. 

In  the  four  preceding  discourses,  I  have  corisidered  Ike  Ptr- 
fttual  Establishment  of  (he  Sabbath,  and  Ihf  Manner  in  jnhich  U  i» 
(d  bt  obttrved ;  and  have  endeavoured  to  annncr  suck  Objtttiom, 
u  occurred  lo  me  against  the  doctrines,  which  1  have  fell  myself 
bound  lo  maintain,  concerning  these  subjects.  I  shall  now  close 
BT  observations  on  the  Sabbath,  with  some  of  Ikost  R.jiicliont, 
inich  this  very  solemn  and  interesting  aubjeci  naturally  suggesU 
toa  serious  mindi 

The  First  Consideration  whiek  strikes  sitch  a  mini!,  whtn  conlem- 
jtaling  the  Sabbatkjia  the  pre-eminent  Wisdom  of  this  diviiir  Iwilitur 
&m. 

Wisdom,  as  applied  to  conduct,  denotes  the  choice  of  desirable 
•nds,  and  the  selection  of  happy  mea'ns  for  their  accomplishment. 
The  ends,  aimed  at,  in  the  institution  of  the  Sabbath,  arv  numer- 
ous, and  all  of  them  eminently  desirable.  The  means,  by  which 
they  are  accomplished,  are,  at  the  same  lime,  eminenilj  happy. 
The  Sabbath,  and  iht  things  immediately  connected  with  il,  are 
Uie  amount  of  them  aQ. 
Among  these  ends  Itt  me  remark;  since  God  himself  has  been 
,  pieaaed  to  mention  it,  ind  to  mention  it  in  the  fourth  command  of 
•fce  decalogue;  the  prooiaion,  jukick  this  holy  day  furni\bta,  of  a 
I  *«fiM  of  rest  to  labouriiq  Animals, 

A  riehUous  tnan  rtga-ds  the  life  of  his  beast,  says  the  wisest  of  all 
*»en:  Prov.  X.  12.  In  this  fact  we  behold  a  strong  rcs'.-rnblance 
^  a  righteous  man  to  hii  Creator.  The  goodness  of  this  glorious 
Bfing  IS  forcibly  displayed  in  the  provision,  which  he  h;i3  made, 
Or  the  rest  and  comfort  of  labouring  animals,  in  the  Moral  Law. 
Wlhe  hands  even  of  pndent  and  humane  masters,  it  is  clearly 
fcen,  that  such  animals  Ere  sufficiently  employed  when  they  labour 
■»  iiys  of  the  week,  and  are  released  to  rest  and  refreshment  on 
be  seventh.  God,  who  perfectly  knew  what  their  sucngth  was 
)Ie  10  bear,  and  who  perfectly  foresaw  how  greatly  iliry  would 
oppressed  by  avarice  and  cruelly,  was  pleased,  in  tins  solemn 
r,  and  at  this  early  period,  to  provide  for  their  relief,  by  se- 
^  10  them  the  quiet  and  restoration  of  one  day  in  seven.  la 
merciful  provision,  the  divine  lenderoess  is  displayed  in  a  most 
ible  and  edifying  manner.  The  humble  charact'T  (if  even 
""  '        did  not  place  them  below  the  compassionate  care  of 


riif 


35 


274  REFLECTION  ON  [SER.  dX. 

God.  Elsewhere,  he  has  commanded  us  to  supply  them  with  food. 
Here,  he  has  commanded  us  to  furnish  them  with  rest.  In  both 
cases,  he  has  taught  us,  that  the  Lord  is  good  and  kind  to  allj  and 
that  his  tender  mercies  are  over  all  the  zoorks  of  his  hands*  This 
indulffence  to  aaimals  is  enjoined  with  infinite  authority  ;  and  se- 
cured fay  the  same  sanction,  which  enforces  justice  and  beneficence 
towards  mankind.  By  bringing  up  this  subject,  also,  in  form,  thus 
solemnly,  regularly,  and  often,  he  has  formed  our  regard  towards 
these  creator  iotp  a  habit ;  and  prevented  us  firom  the  possibility 
of  being  inattentive  to  this  duty. 

In  the  same  manner  are  Rest  and  Refreshment  secured  to  mankmL 
Children  and  servants,  particularly,  are  by  this  institution  preserv- 
ed firom  the  oppression  of  severe  masters,  and  the  unfeeling  de- 
maqds  of  ynnatural  parents.  Every  industrious  man  will  teU  yoa 
firom  his  own  experience,  that  the  season  of  labour  is  sufficiendy 
long,  and  this  return  of  rest  absolutely  necessary  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  health,  and  strength,  and  life  ;  that  greater  toil  would  fit- 
tigue  the  bodily  powers  into  decay ;  and  that  the  weekly  cessation 
firom  business  is  not  more  firequent  than  our  worldly  interests 
clearly  demand.  Hence,  unless  when  under  the  dominion  of  ava- 
rice, ne  will  consider  the  Sabbath  as  a  benevolent  provision  for 
his  true  worldly  interest.  What  will  thus .  be  approved  by  (he 
man,  who  labours  voluntarily,  and  for  himself,  cannot  fail  to  be 
cordially  welcomed  by  him,  who  is  compelled,  through  indigence^ 
to  toil  for  others  :  the  servant  drudging  for  a  hard  master,  and  the 
child  trembling  under  the  rod  of  an  unfeeling  parent. 

Jfor  is  the  usefulness  of  the  Sabbath  less  visible  in  thepromotitm 
of  Jfeatness  and  Cleanliness  ^  especially  amcne  the  inferior  classts 
ofmtmkind.  Nq  person  is  willing  to  appear  in  a  religjious  assem- 
bly, unle^  cleanly  and  decently  dressed.  So  true  is  this,  that 
pr(!i)ably  in  aU  countries,  where  the  Sabbath  is  observed,  every 
one,  not  prevented  by  absolute  poverty,  his  what  is  proverbially 
called  a  aunday  suit  of  clothes.  The  spirit  of  cleanliness  and  de- 
cei]i,cy^  awakened  by  the  return  of  this  hcly  day,  is  alwaus  thus 
aw^^ned^  Ezcitea  every  week,  it  is  of  course  excited  tnrough 
th^  week ;  becomes  an  immoveable  habit ;  extends  its  inffuence 
through  all  the  concerns  of  human  life ;  and,  in  the  end,  constitutei 
the  standing  character.  Individuals  are  ibus  prevented  fit>m  be- 
co^lin^  brutes  in  their  appearance  ;  and  a  nation  is  fashioned  into 
an  entire  and  delightful  contrast  to  the  native  dirt  and  slovenliness 
o/ man,  always  exhibited,  in  so  humiliating  a  manner  by  Savages. 
Vke  influence  of  this  single  fact  on  the  comfort  of  human  life,  can- 
not be  calculated. 

iueparablif  connuted  nith  this  article^  u  the  Softness  and  GvUiljl 
ofMomcr^y  to  which  the  Sabbath,  more  than  any  thing  else,  alluies 
m^nlMnd.  Every  thing  pertaining  to  the  Sabbath  generates,'  of 
course,  this  desirable  conduct.  The  neatness  of  jdress,  and  the 
d^ffxcj  of  9j>pearaAce,  justinentioned,  8trongl|;||in|uade  to  iu' A 

■  ■'"i 


8£1L  GDL]  THB  SABBATH.  875 

Eerson,  better  dressed  than  in  the  ordinaiy  manner,  wiU,  reeularly, 
ehave  with  more  than  ordinary  decency,  unless  kabittiaTiy  thus 
dressed.  The  association  in  our  thoughts  between  the  dress 
and  the  manners,  (both  of  which  are  intended  to  make  us  appear 
with  advantage)  is  instinctive,  and  inseparable.  Every  thing  con- 
nected with  the  Sabbath,  also,  inspires  such  views  and  aflfections,  • 
as  contribute  to  the  manners  in  question.  We  are,  of  course, 
united  to  a  respectable  assembly ;  on  a  sacred  day ;  in  a  sacred 
^place ;  upon  a  most  affecting  occasion ;  and  for  ends  the  most 
solemn  and  important  in  the  universe.  We  are  immediately  be- 
fore God,  and  are  employed  in  his  worship ;  in  confessing  our  sins, 
in  seeking  the  forgiveness  of  them,  and  io  labouring  to  obtain  an 
interest  in  his  favour.  We  cannot,  here,  fail  to  feel  our  needy,  frail, 
guilty,  dependent,  character;  to  see  bow  little  and  insignificant  we 
are ;  how  unbecoming  are  pride,  unkindness,  and  insolence ;  how 
becoming  humility,  modesty,  condescension,  and  gentleness  ;  how 
amiable,  in  the  sight  of  God,  is  the  omumini  of  a  meek  and  qtiiet 
tpirit  ;  and  how  necessary  for  every  puijjose  for  which  we  have 
assembled,  the  establishment  of  these  things  in  our  hearts.  From 
these  considerations  must  spring,  of  course,  in  every  man,  who  is 
not  void  of  all  propensity  to  that  which  is  good,  both  gentleness  of 
mind,  and  sweetness  of  manners. 

I  have  already  glanced  at  ilu  tendency  of  the  Sabbath  to  abase  our 
pride^  and  to  remove  our  native  ruggednesn  of  disposition.  This  part 
of  the  subject  deserves  a  further  consideration.  One  of  the  cnief 
deformities  of  character  in  the  rich,  the  learned,  and  the  great,  is 
that  haughtiness  of  mind,  which,  on  account  of  their  peculiar  ad- 
vantages, they  are  ever  ready  to  feel ;  and  one  of  the  chief  causes 
of  sunering  to  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  and  the  powerless,  is  that  in- 
solence of  oehaviour,  which  from  this  haaehtiness  they  are  com- 
pelled to  endure.  But  when  the  superior  classes  of  mankind  as- 
semble in  the  house  of  God,  they  sink,  at  once,  even  in  th^ir  own 
eyes,  if  they  open  them,  down  to  the  same  level  with  their  fellow- 
worms.  In  the  presence  of  Him,  before  whom  all  nations  are  as 
nothings  the  glare  of  splendour,  the  pride  of  wealth,  the  self-suffi- 
ciency of  learning,  and  the  loftiness  of  power,  are  annihilated  in 
a  moment.  Those,  who,  a  little  while  before,  felt  themselves  to  be 
rich,  and  wise,  and  ereat,  find  that  they  are  ]>oor,  ignorant,  little, 
^ilty,  odioss  to  Goa,  exposed  to  his  wrath,  and  hopeless,  except 
m  the  mere  character  of  suppliants  for  mercy. 

When  a  great  man,  in  the  Sanctuary,  looks  around  him  on  a 
Buxed  asseinoly  of  his  equals  and  inferiors  ;  he  will  be  compelled 
often  to  feel,  and  secredy  to  confess,  that  his  poor  neighbour,  whom 
perhaps  he  woiUd  have  disdained^  on  other  occasions,  to  set  witk- 
the  dogs  of  his  iock^  is,  in  all  probability,  more  excellent,  more 
wise,  more  lovely,  and  in  every  sense  greater,  in  the  sight  of  the 
&ghest^  than  himself.  Nothing  can  humble  pride  more  than  the 
dievation  above  itself  of  those,  whom  it  despises.    This  elevation 


V 


•■■    L- 


S75  REFLECTIONS  ON  [8ER.  COL 

of  the  humble,  this  useHil  depression  of  the  haughty,  is  no  where 
more  perfect  than  in  the  house  of  God. 

Here,  as  will  be  realized  from  what  has  been  already  said,  the 
poor  and  lowly  rise,  of  course,  above  their  usual  level.     The  rich 
and  the  poor^  says  Solomon^  meet  together  ;  the  Lord  is  the  JIUur 
of  them  all.     In  the  house  of  God  they  meet  together  in  a  manner 
wholly  peculiar ;  are  placed  exactly  on  the  same  level ;  and  are 
more  strongly,  than  any  where  else,  reminded,  that  tlu  Lord  it  the 
Maker  of  them  all.    Here,  they  assemble  as  creatures  of  the  same 
God  merely.     Here,  all  their  earthly  distinction*,  vanish ;  and  a 
new  distinction,  formed  only  of  sin  and  holinifn,  commences; 
which,  unless  terminated  in  the  present  world,  will  endure,  and 
widen,  for  ever.    Here,  then,  the  poor  man  rises  to  his  proper 
independence  and  distinction,  forgets  the  depression  of  his  circum- 
stances ;  and,  without  the  aid  oi  pride,  assumes  an  elevation  of 
character,  not  less  necessary  to  him  for  the  faithful  discharge  of 
his  duty,  than  the  humility  of  the  Gospel  to  the  lofty-minded. 
Thus  the  Sabbath,  like  its  Author,  putteth  down  the  mighty  fr(m 
their  seats j  and  exalteth  them  of  low  degree.     How  perfect,  in  this 
important  particular,  is  an  institution,  which  produces  these  oppo- 
site and  inaispensable  benefits  in  those,  whose  situation  so  plainly 
and  loudly  demands  them ! 

Another  immense  benefit  of  the  Sabbath  is  the  Imtructionj  wUck 
it  furnishes  in  Morals  and  Religion. 

The  value  of  knowledge  is  admitted  by  all  civilized  men.  It 
will  usually,  and  ought  ever,  to  be  admitted,  also,  that  moral  and 
religious  knowledge  is  of  far  more^value  than  any  other.  It  ii 
more  necessary,  more  practical,  more  useful,  more  enlarging  to  the 
mind,  more  refined,  and  more  exalted.  The  least  acquaintance 
with  the  subject  will  place  this  assertion  beyond  a  doubt. 

As  the  knowledge  itself  is  more  valuable  ;  so  the  Sabbath  fur- 
nishes  means  for  obtaining  it,  which  are  far  cheaper,  and  far  more 
eflBcacious,  than  were  ever  furnished  by  any  other  institution. 
Here,  on  a  day  devoted  to  no  employment  but  the  gaining  of  this 
knowledge,  and  the  performance  of  those  religious  dul*»ps  which 
unite  with  it  in  perfect  harmony ;  in  a  place  convenient  and  sa- 
cred; on  an  occasion  infinitely  important;  and  with  the  strong 
power  of  sympathy  to  aid  and  impress ;  a  thousand  persons  are 
taught  the  best  of  all  knowledge ;  the  most  useful  to  themselves, 
and  the  most  beneficial  to  mankind ;  for  a  less  sum,  tkan  must  be 
expended  by  a  twentieth  part  of  their  number,  in  order  to  obtain 
the  same  instruction  in  any  other  science.  No  device  of  the  heath- 
en Philosophers,  or  of  modern  Infidels,  greatly  as  they  have 
boasted  of  iheir  wisdom,  can  be  compared,  as  to  its  usefulness,  with 
this.  The  Sabbath,  particularly,  is  the  only  mean^  ever  devised,  of 
communicating  important  instruction  to  the  great  mass  of  mankina. 
Here,  all  may  assemble,  all  may  learn,  from  the  prince  to  the  beg- 
gar, from  the  man  of  grey  hairs  to  the  infaiU  of  days.     Had  the 


r 


8ER.  CO.]  THE  SABBATH.  377 

Sabbath  been  a  device  of  man,  men  would  be  able  to  boast  of  im- 
mensely ercater  ingenuity  and  wisdom,  than  they  have  hitherto 
display  ca;  and  would  be  justly  pronounced  to  have  forn^ed  a  more 
successful  and  more  patriotic  institution,  for  the  benefit  of  man- 
kind, than  any  which  is  found  on  the  page  of  history.  Here,  a 
real  and  glorious  equality  of  privileges  is  established,  not  only 
without  confusion  and  discord,  but  with  strong  enforcements  of 
peace  and  good  order.  In  these  great  blessings,  all  are,  here, 
alike  interested,  and  all  partake  alike. 

To  the  blessings  of  Peace  and  Good  order^  universally^  the  Sab- , 
bath  contributes,  also,  in  a  pre-eminent  denree.  Moral  and  reli- 
^ous  knowledge  is  the  knowledge  of  our  duty,  and  of  the  rewards, 
which  God  will  give  to  such  as  perform  it.  To  this  knowledge 
the  Sabbath  adds  the  highest  motives  to  the  performance,  which 
are  found  in  the  universe.  All  good,  internal,  and  external,  in 
time  and  eternity,  allures  to  it,  as  a  direct  and  certain  reward.  All 
evil  compels  to  it  as  a  threatening,  and  deters  from  the  omission  as 
a  punishment  inevitable  and  endless.  This  knowledge,  and  these 
motives,  the  Sabbath  furnishes,  with  a  solemnity  ana  force  alto- 
gether unrivalled.  From  the  house  of  God  they  are  carried  with 
us  into  every  concern  of  life,  where  duty  is  to  be  performed ;  and 
duty  is  to  be  performed  in  every  concern.  With  the  influence  of 
the  Sabbath  on  his  mind,  man  every  where  feels  himself  ac- 
countable to  his  Maker ;  and  in  darkness  and  solitude,  in  the 
secrecy  of  thought,  as  well  as  in  the  conduct  inspected  by  the 
public  eye,  realizes,  that  the  ^-searching  God  is  a  constant  wit- 
ness of  whatever  he  thinks,  speaks,  or  ooes.  From  this  consi- 
deration, more  than  from  the  dread  of  the  dungeon  and  the  halter, 
most  men  are  inchncd  to  restrain  their  hands  from  injustice  and 
violence,  from  tumult  and  confusion.  In  the  mean  time,  the  peace 
and  good  order  of  religious  assemblies,  on  the  Sabbath,  furnish 
the  highest  specimen  of  this  happy  conduct,  that  was  ever  seen  in 
the  present  world.  Fifty-two  oabbaths,  every  year,  is  this  con- 
duct repeated.  Hence,  it  becomes  a  powerful  as  well  as  desirable 
habit ;  and  clings  to  him,  who  steadily  visits  the  house  of  God, 
through  the  remainder  of  every  week.  In  this  manner,  it  is  dif- 
fused through  the  life ;  and  influences  the  thoughts,  words,  and 
actions,  towards  men  of  every  class  and  character.  The  magis- 
trate and  the  subject,  the  parent  and  the  child,  the  master  and  the 
servant,  the  friend  and  the  neighbour,  are  benefitted  by  it  alike. 
All  of  them  acquire  more  peaceful  dispositions ;  exhibit  a  more 
amiable  deportment ;  pursue  a  more  orderly  conduct,  and  fill  their 
respective  stations  with  greater  propriety,  than  either  would  do 
under  the  influence  of  every  other  cause,  except  the  immediate 
agency  of  God. 

It  will  not  be  denied,  that  each  of  the  things,  which  I  have  spe- 
dfied.  is  an  important  benefit  to  mankind,  nor  that  all  of  them 
united  are  of  advantage  inestimable.     But  the  Sabbath  has  bless- 


273  REFLECTIONS  ON  [S£R.  CK 

ings  to  give,  of  a  still  higher  nature.     Among  them  this  is  one,  of 
supreme  moment ;  that  ike  Sabbath  is  the  great  mean  of  preserving 
in  the  world  the  Knowledge^  and  the  Worships  of  the  one  living  and 
true  God.     Wherever  the  Sabbath  is  not,  there  is  no  worship,  no 
religion.     Man  forgets  God  ;  and  God  forsakes  man.    The  moral 
worJd  becomes  a  desert,  where  life  never  springs,  and  beauty  never 
smiles.  The  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  never  dawn  upon 
tl|8 .miserable  waste;  the  rains  of  heaven  never  descend.     Putrid 
witb  sin,  and  shrunk  with  ignorance,  the  soul  of  man  loses  its  ra- 
tional character ;  and  prostrates  itself  before  devils,  men,  beasts, 
and  reptiles,  insects,  stocks,  and  stoned.     To  these  man  oifcrs  his 

Srayers,  his  praises  and  his  victims ;  to  these,  he  sacrifices  his  chil- 
ren ;  and  to  these,  he  immolates  the  puritv  and  honour  offals  wife. 
A  brutal  worshipper  of  a  brutal  God,  he  nopes  for  protection  and 
blessing  from  the  assumption  of  every  folly,  and  the  perpetration 
of  every  crime. 

If  his  mind  becomes  enlightened  by  science,  and  these  absurdi- 
ties, as  they  sometimes  may,  become  too  eross  and  too  naked  to 
be  received  by  him  ;  he  becomes  an  infidel,  a  sceptic,  an  atheist. 
The  absurdity,  here,  is  not  indeed  less,  but  greater.     The  only 
material  difference  is,  that  it  is  less  palpable,  less  exposed  to  vul* 
gar  eyes,  less  susceptible  of  ridicule.   The  former  is  the  madness 
oT  a  biockfaead ;  the  latter  of  a  man  of  learning  :  that  the  folly  oi 
the  clown ;  this  of  the  man  of  fashion.  In  this  case,  the  votary  wan- 
ders through  all  the  labjrrinths  of  subtile  disquisition  ;  proves  right 
to  be  wrone,  and  wrong  to  be  right ;  and  demonstrates,  that  there 
is  nothing  either  right  or  wrong.     Freed  from  these  incumbrances, 
men  of  this  character  cast  their  eyes  towards  the  enjoyments  oi 
this  world,  and  covet  their  neighbour's  house,  and  their  neigh- 
bour's wife;  his  man-servant,  and  his  maid-servant;  his  ox,  and 
his  ass  ;  and  every  thing  that  is  their  neighbour's.    Nothing,  now^ 
intervenes  between  themselves  and  the  objects  coveted,  but  the 
apprehension  of  resistance,  and  the  dread  of  punishment.     Ele- 
vate them  to  power,  and  the  Sabbath  is  changed  into  the  decade^ 
and  the  hoiise  of  God  into  a  stable ;  the  Bible  is  paraded  through 
the  streets  on  an  ass,  and  consumed  upon  a  bonfire ;  immortal  ex- 
istence is  blotted  out  of  the  divine  Kingdom ;  the  Reedeemer  is 
postponed  to  a  murderer ;  and  the  Creator  to  a  prostitute,  styled 
the  Goddess  of  Reason.    The  end  of  this  progress  might  be  easily 
foreseen.     Legalized  plunder,  legislative  butchery,  the  prostitu- 
tion of  a  kingdom,  fields  drenched  in  human  blood,  and  cities  biunt 
by  human  mcendiaries,  fill  up  the  tremendous  measure  of  ini- 

Suity ;  bewildering  the  gazing  world  with  astonishment ;  awaken 
le  shouts  of  fienos  ;  ana  cover  heaven  itself  with  a  robe  of  sack- 
cloth. 

But  for  the  Sabbath,  this  assembly  had  now  been  prostrate  be- 
fore the  stock  of  a  tree,  or  sitting  round  the  circle  of  a  pawaw ;  or, 
frantic  with  rage  and  frenzy,  had  been  roaming  the  mountains  b 


SER  CO.]  THE  SABBATa  JTg 

honour  of  Bacchus  ;  or  drowning  with  shouts  and  screams  the  cries 
ofa  human  victim,  offered  up  to  appease  the  wralh  ol'an  imagina- 
rv  Dcily. 

"  But  thanks  he  lo  God  for  this  unsptakahU  gift .'  The  Sabbith, 
according  to  his  abundant  mercyt  returns,  at  the  close  of  every 
week,  ID  shine  upon  us  with  Its  peaceful  and  benevolent  beams. 
Al  the  close  of  every  week,  with  a  still,  small  zoiee  it  summons  us 
lo  the  house  of  God,  Here,  we  meet,  and  find,  and  know,  and 
serve,  our  glorious  and  blessed  Creator,  Redeemer,  and  SanctiSer< 
Here,  on  thr  mercy-neat,  he  sits" enthroned,  to  hear  our  complaints. 
and  petitions,  to  receive  our  praises,  to  accept  our  repeiilance,  and 
lo  forcive  our  sins  for  the  saice  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Here, 
he  maltes  known  his  pleasure  and  our  duty.  Here,  he  promises  to 
those,  who  obey,  divine  and  eternal  rewards ;  and  threatens  those, 
who  disobey,  with  terrible  and  never-ending  punishments.  Seen 
every  week  in  these  awful  and  amiable  characters,  God  cannot  be 
unknown  nor  forgotten.  Accordingly,  throughout  the  ages  of 
Christianity,  liis  presence  and  ago.ji.-y  are  understood  everywhere, 
and  by  every  person,  who  frequeiii--  ihc  house  of  God.  The  little 
child  is  as  famiharly  acquainted  with  them,  as  the  man  of  grey 
hairs  ;  the  peasant,  as  the  monarch.  All,  in  this  sensn,  /mota  God, 
from  Ike  least  lo  the  greatest ;  and  there  is  no  occiiiio.i  for  a  man 
to  taif  to  his  neighbour.  Know  the  Lord.  ^^ 

Intimately  connected  with  this  vast  and  interestiiig  subject,  and 
in  an  important  sense  the  effect  of  the  Sabbaih  only,  u  the  Attain- 
meni  of  holiness  and  salvation. 

Man,  an  apostate,  guilty  and  condemned,  infinitely  needs  a  ren- 
ovation of  his  character,  a  reversal  of  his  sentence,  an  escape  from 
his  punishment,  and  a  reinstatement  in  the  glorious  privileges  from 
which  he  has  fallen.  To  accomplish  these  inestimable  and  be- 
nevolent ends,  God,  according  to  the  language  of  the  text,  has 
halloaed,  and  blessed,  the  Sabbath.  Througli  every  age,  and  through 
every  land,  where  the  Sabbath  has  been  kept  holy  unto  the  Lord, 
ihis  blessing  has,  regularly,  and  uninterruptedly,  descended. 
There,  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  have  been  published,  and  re- 
ceived. There,  men  nave  sought,  and  found,  Jehovah,  their  God  j 
rejjented  of  their  sins ;  believed  on  the  Lord  Jesu.s  Christ;  renew- 
-  cd  their  allegiance  to  iheir  rightful  Sovereign  ;  obtained  the  par- 
don of  their  sins,  and  the  justification  of  their  souls  }  triumphed 


i 


r death  and  the  grave;  ascended  to  heaven;  and  liegun  the 
session  of  everlasting  joy.      iPherever  even  two  or  three  have 
met  together  in  the  name  of  Christ,  there  he  has  been  in  the  midst  of 


them,  and  blessed  them  with  his  peculiar  blessing.  This  holy, 
heavenly  season  has  regularly  opened  the  correspondence  between 
this  miserable  world,  and  the  world  of  life  and  glory,  and  preserv- 
ed the  connexion  between  God  and  men.  To  it,  earth  owes  its 
chief  blessings ;  and  heaven  no  small  part  of  its  inhabitants,  and 
of  its  Lnfadiiig  joys. 


A 


REFLECTIONS  Olf  [8ER.  CO. 

But  where  mankind  have  forsaken  the  assembling  of  themstlvti 
together^  as  the  manner  of  some  is^  all  these  blessings  have  ceased. 
The  fruitful  land  has  been  converted  into  marshes,  and  miry  placesy 
which  could  not  be  healed,  and  were  therefore  given  to  salt.  In  such 

E laces,  the  world,  and  sin,  and  Satan,  take  entire  possession  of  the 
eart,  and  leave  no  room  for  God.     All  the  thoughts  and  desires 
the  offspring  of  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the 


prifU  of  life.  Like  Mab,  men  sell  themselves,  to  work  wickedness: 
:  like  Jeroboam,  they  sin,  and  make  all  around  them  to  sin.  There, 
no  prayers  ascend  to  heaven  ;  no  voice  of  mercy  is  heard  from 
^  that  happy  world,  inviting  sinners  to  faith  and  repentance  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  God  is  neither  sought,  nor  found.  None  ask 
for  mercy ;  and  none  receive  it.  Noneknock  at  the  door  of  life; 
and  to  none  is  it  opened.  All  enter  into  the  broad  and  crooked  road, 
and  go  down  to  the  chambers  of  death  ;  while  God,  with  an  awful 
voice,  proclaims,  concerning  them,  Ephraim  is  joirud  to  Idols :  let 
him  alone. 

Pause  now,  for  a  moment,  and  recollect  the  number,  the  great- 
ness, the  glory,  of  these  Ends ;  and  tell  me  if  the  Institution,  which 
unites  and  accomplishes  them  all,  in  perfect^ harmony,  is  not  su- 
premely wise,  and  worthy  of  God.  How  easily  does  it  accomplish 
them;  how  perfectly ;  how  wonderfully !  How  happy  is  the  fre- 
Quent,  convenient,  necessary  return  of  this  holy  day !  After  how 
desirable  mtervals ;  with  what  usciul  regularity ;  with  what  sweet 
serenity !  How  necessary  is  it  to  the  sinner,  to  call  him  off  from 
the  world,  from  stupidity,  from  sottishness !  How  necessary  to 
awaken  his  attention  to  God,  to  holiness,  and  to  heaven ;  to  en- 
gage his  thoughts  on  spiritual  and  divine  objects ;  to  begin  his 
repentance,  faith,  and  love  ;  and  to  place  his  feet  in  the  path,  which 
leads  to  immortal  life  !  How  necessary  to  the  saint,  to  rouse  him 
from  sloth ;  to  recall  him  from  sin ;  to  remind  him  of  his  duty  ;  to 
increase  his  faith  and  holiness,  and  to  help  him  forward  in  his  jour- 
ney towards  heaven!  How  necessary  to  Adam  in  his  innocence; 
how  infinitely  necessary  to  all  his  ruined  offspring !  In  a  word,  how 
plainly  has  the  Sabbath  been  blessed,  as  well  as  hallowed!  bless- 
ed, from  the  beginning  to  the  present  time;  blessed,  in  a  multitude 
of  particulars ;  olessed,  in  every  land,  where  it  has  been  known, 
with  the  immediate  and  peculiar  favour  of  God,  with  the  nearest 
resemblance  to  the  blessings  of  immortality ! 

2.  The  mind  of  a  gdbd  man  cannot  fail,  also,  to  be  deeply  affect" 
ed  with  the  Solemnity  of  this  Institution. 

When  God  had  ended  the  glorious  work  of  Creation,  he  rested 
the  seventh  day  from  all  the  work,  which  he  had  made.  The  crea- 
tion was  now" fresh  from  the  forming  hand  of  Jehovah.  The  creat 
Architect  had  builded  his  stories  in  the  heaven  ;  had  numbered  the 
Stars,  and  called  them  all  by  their  names  ;  had  appointed  the  moon 
for  seastyns,  and  caused  the  sun  to  ktww  his  going  down.  He  had 
filled  the  world  with  beauty  and  fragrance,  with  glory  and  grand- 


V 
« 
f 


8EIL  COL]  THE  SABBATH.  JQI 

eur,  with  life  and  immortality.  In  the  full  view  of  this  transport- 
ing, this  amazing  scene ;  in  the  strong  apprehension  of  the  infinite 
•  perfections,  which  it  unfolded;  the  horning  Stars  sang  togtiher^ 
and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy  :  while  the  Autnor  of  all 
thinp  beheld  the  works,  which  his  hands  had  made,  and  pronounc- 
ed them  vert/ good.  The  praise,  begun  by  Angels,  our  first  pij  rents 
reiterated,  on  the  first  morning  of  their  existence ;  and  made  ihetr 
delightful  residence  vocal  with  hymns  to  their  Creator.  The  first 
employment  of  Paradise,  tfce  first  work  done  by  man,  was  the  wor- 
ship of  God.  Thus  the  dawn  of  human  existence  was  opened  by 
the  same  divine  employment,  which  will  unceasingly  occupy  the 
everlasting  day  of  heaven.  When  the  command  to  remember  this 
day  was  given,  there  were,  in  the  morning,  thunders,  and  light- 
nings  ;  and  a  thick  cloud,  upon  Mount  Sinai,  and  the  voice  of  the 
trumpet  exceeding  loud,  fb  that  all  the  people  who  were  in  the  camp 
tremhled.  And  Mount  Sinai  was  altogether  on  a  smoke  ;  because 
the  Lord  descended  upon  it  in  fire,  and  the  smoke  thereof  ascended 
as  the  smoke  of  afur^iace,  and  the  whole  Mount  quaked  greatly.  In 
the  midst  of  this  amazing  grandeur,  in  the  midst  of  these  awful 
terrors,  God,  with  his  own  voice,  spoke  this  command,  and  wrote 
it  with  his  own  finger.  With  this  example,  and  with  these  solem- 
nities, was  one  day  in  seven  consecrated  to  Jehovah. 

When  the  new  Creation  was  finished,  the  Creation  of  holiness  in 
the  soul  of  man,  the  creation  of  a  Church,  comprising  imrnonse 
multitudes  of  immortal  minds,  as  a  holy  and  eternal  kingdom  unto 
God  ;  Christ  arose  from  the  dead  to  endless  life  and  glory,  became 
the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept^  and  their  forerunner  into  the  Inav- 
ens.  On  this  divine  occasion,  the  same  exalted  beings ;  who  sang 
together,  when  the  heavens  and  the  earth  were  made,  an^l  pro- 
claimed glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  peace  on  earth,  good  will  Uh 
wards  men,  when  the  Saviour  of  the  world  was  born ;  now  renew- 
ed their  songs,  and  entered  with  Christ  into  the  highest  heavens, 
with  all  the  pomp  and  splendour  which  invested  Sinai,  at  the  pro- 
mulgation of  the  law. 

On  this  day  the  Spirit  of  grace  and  truth  desciended  upon  the 
Apostles  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour;  baptized  them  with  fire;  endu- 
ed them  with  inspiration,  the  gift  of  tongues,  and  the  spirit  of 
prophecy ;  gave  them  to  understand  the  Gospel  in  its  glorious 
mysteries;  and  enabled  them,  with  wonderful  miracles,  to  prove 
its  divine  origin,  and  thus  to  erect  the  spiritual  kingdom  of  God  in 
^  .the  world. 

All  these  examples,  the  most  august,  the  most  amazing,  wl.ich 
the  universe  ever  beheld,  leave  their  whole  weight,  their  infinite 
authority,  upon  this  institution  Every  Christian,  therefore,  while 
he  keeps  the  Sabbath  holy  unto  God,  ought,  in  order  to  cjuick- 
en  himself  in  his  duty,  to  rem?  nber,  that  on  this  sacred  day  (iod 
rested;  that  his  Redeemer  rested ;  that  the  Spirit  of  Grace  de- 
scended ;  and  that  angels  repeatedly  united  together  in  eni*aptiired 
Vol.  III.  36 


283  REFLECTIONS  ON  [SER.  COL 

pituse*     Nor  ought  he,  in  any  wise,  to  forget  that  no   institution 
can  plead  so  many,  and  so  great  things,  done  to  solemnize   and 
,  consecrate  it  as  holy  unto  God,  and  as  indispensably  biqding  upon 
man. 

.  3.   We  learn  from  the  observations  already  made^  with  what  emo* 
tions  the  Sabbath  ought  to  be  regarded  by  its. 

We  assemble  in  the  house  of  God,  to  glorify  him  in  the  religious 
worship  which  he  has  appointed ;  to  seek  the  everlasting  life  of 
our  own  souls;  to  obtain  and  increase  hoHness  in  our  hearts;  to 
remember,  admire^  and  celebrate,  the  wonderful  works  of  ihe  old 
and  new  creations,  and  the  glorious  perfections  of  the  Creator  and 
Redeemer.  What  emotions  ought  we  to  feel  while  engaged  in  this 
divine  employment?  Such,  unquestionably,  as  Angels  experi- 
enced, when  these  works  were  done,  and  these  perfections  were 
displayed.  • 

Particularly,  the  Sabbath  demands  of  all  men  profound  Reverence 
and  solemn  Awe.  All  the  things  which  have  been  mentioned  are 
supremely  great,  sublime,  and  wonderful.  The  most  awful  of  all 
beings  is  brought  near  to  our  hearts,  and  presents  himself  before 
our  eyes,  in  manifestations  of  the  most,  majestic  and  astonishing 
nature.  Had  we  been  present  at  the  work  of  creation,  and  heard 
the  awful  command  which  brought  into  being  the  immense  mass  of 
original  elements :  had  we  seen  the  light  at  the  bidding  of  die 
groat  Workman,  disclose,  and  involve  the  formless  confusion  ;  the 
sea  and  the  dry  land  separate ;  the  grass,  the  heibs,  and  the  trees^ 
instantaneously  arise,  and  clothe  the  earth  in  one  universal  robe  of 
life  and  beauty  ;  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars  lighted  uj»  in  the 
heavens;  the  various  animals  filling  the  world  with  Jiving  beings; 
^d  man  the  lord,  the  crown,  and  the  glory  of  the  whole,  formed  a 
tetional  and  immortal  being,  to  understand,  enjoy,  and  C(  K  brate, 
the  divine  work :  could  we  have  failed  to  experience  the  most  pro- 
found awe,  amid  this  complication  of  infinite  wonders,  and  lo  glo- 
rify the  great  Author  of  them  with  that  fear  of  the  Lord^  zvhick  is 
the  beginning  of  wisdom  1 

Had  we  again  been  present  at  the  Crucifixion  of  our  divine 
Redeemer,  and  beheld  the  earth  tremble,  the  rocks  rend,  ihe  veil 
of  the  temple  part  asunder,  the  graves  open,  the  saints  ari>e,  and 
tbe  sun  hicle  his  face  in  darkness ;  had  we  accompanied  his  body 
to  the  tomb,  and  watched  the  descent  of  the  Angel,  ihe  convul- 
sions of  the  second  earthquake,  the  lightnings  which  siieamed 
from  his  countenance,  and  the  swooning  of  the  guards  who  kept 
the  sepulchre  ;  had  we  seen  our  Lord  resume  his  life,  come  forth 
from  the  grave  to  his  doubting,  trembling  disciples  ;  had  we 
seen  him  rise  from  the  earth,  enter  the  bosom  of  the  cloud  of 
glory,  and,  with  a  solemn  and  magnificent  progress,  ascend  to  the 
neaven:? ;  must  not  the  same  awful  emotions  have  been  instinctively 
renewed? 


•  * 


SER.  CTX]  THE  SABBATH.  933 

But  all  these  things,  this  sacred  day,  this  divine  festival,  plitces 
before  our  eyes.  It,  at  the  same  time,  we  further  remeni her,  that 
we  are  in  the  house  of  God  ;  that  hither  he  comes  to  meet'  us  oa.', 
designs  of  infinite  love  ;  to  forcive  our  sins,  to  renew,  receive,  and  ' 
rfave  our  souls  ;  that  we  stand  before  him  as  sinners,  as  ap.ostates, 
coiKiemned,  ruined,  helpless,  and,  in  oursqlves,  hopeless,  "also ; 
that  we  are  suppliants  for  mere  mercy,  dependent  on  the  obedience 
of  another,  and  without  any  righteousness  of  our  own ;  must  we 
not  feel  our  littleness  and  our  guilt  ?  Must  we  not,  insiiiK  lively, 
lav  our  hands  on  our  mouths,  and  our  mouths  i»the  dust,  and  cry, 
"  Unclean  ?"  Can  we  fail  to  fear  that  glorious  and  /earful  nanUj 
Jehovah,  our  God?" 

This  emotion  every  thing  in  the  Scriptures  conspires  to  improve 
and  strengthen.  The  Law  of  God,  with  all  its  commands,  promises 
and  threatenings,  its  divine  rewards  and  amazing  penalties;  the 
Gospel,  with  its  splemn  estabhshment  of  ihe  Law,  its  remedies  for 
the  nn perfections  of  the  Law,  as  the  means  of  life  for  sinners,  its 
glorious  invitations,  suj)reme  allurements,  and  heavenly  promises; 
conspire  with  infinite  force  to  persuade  Ub  to  fear  the  Lord  our 
God^  and  to  tremble  at  his  word.  He,  who  is  thoughtless  and  irrev- 
erent here,  ought  to  have  considered  how  he  would  have  felt  amid 
the  thunders,  the  lightnings,  the  earthquake,  the  sound  of  tiie  trum* 
pet,  and  the  flame  of  devouring  fire,  irom  which  tlie  Creator  said, 
Kemember  the  Sabbath  day ^  to  keep  it  holy.  To  this  mail,  inope  than 
to  almost  any  other  sinner,  is  addressed  that  humbling  rebuke, 
The  ox  knoweth  his  owner^  and  the  ass  his  master^s  crib  ;  but  Israel 
dcth  not  know  ;  my  people  doth  not  consider. 

At  the  same  time,  the  Sabbath  is  to  be  regarded  with  peculiar 
Joy. 

All  things  relating  to  the  Sabbath,  are  not  only  solemn,  but  JMi» 
fill,  things.     At  the  Creation,  a  new  Universe  started  up  inta)Mh 
ing ;  and  life,  reason,  virtue,  and  immortality,  were  given  to  an 
endless  multitude  of  creatures.    At  the  New  Creation,  an  endless 
multitude  of  perishing  sinners,  destined  to  eternal  sin  and  eternal 
wo,  were  recalled  from  the  melancholy  regions  of  death  and  de- 
pravity to  immortal  holiness,  life,  and  glory.   On  these  stupendous 
occasions  all  the  Sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy.     We  are  siill  more 
interested  in  the  last  of  them,  than  they  could  be  :  for  we  amfte 
miserable  beings,  who  are  redeemed,  and  saved.     On  the  Sab- 
bath, the  great  body  of  the  Church  has  been  brought  into  the    , 
kingdom  of  grace,  and  prepared  for  the  kingdom  of  glory.    On 
tlic  first  Sabbath,  upon  which  began  the  great  work  of  erecting 
the  kingdom  of  Christ  in  the  worla  by  the  Aposdes,  three  thousand 
souls  were  added  unto  the  Lord.     On  the  first  Sabbath,  the  Apostles 
were  baptized  with  the  Holy  Ghost^  and  with  fire,  and  divinely  em- 
powered to  spread  salvation  through  the  world.     On  the  Sabbath, 
the  souls  of  men  liave  ever  since  been  flocking  into  the  kins;dom  of 
Christ,  and  taking  possession  of  immortality*    The  Sabbath  has 


*■-• 


'  fe4  R£F£ECnONS  ON  [SER.  GDL 

been  the  great  means  of  preserving  that  kingdom.  To  the  Sab- 
bath it  is  owing,  that  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  are  now  heard  in 
this  desolate  world.  To  the  Sabbath  it  is  owing,  that  in  this  land, 
where,  ever  since  the  deluge,  nothing  was  heard  but  the  bowlings 
of  wild  beasts,  the  war-screams  of  savages,  or  the  groans  of  tor- 
ture and  death,  now  through  a  thousand  Churches  is  weekly  re- 
sounded tlie  music  of  heaven,  and  the  proclamation  of  life  eternal 
to  mankind.  The  Sabbath  is  appropriately  the  accepted  time^  it  is 
eminently  the  day  of  salvation.  To  the  Sabbath  will  our  salvation 
be  owed,  if  we  attain  salvation.  On  the  Sabbath,  all  Christian 
assemblies  meet  to  offer  up  their  humble  prayers  ;  to  send  up  their 
hymns  of  praise  to  \hm  Father  who  is  in  heaven^  to  teach,  and  re- 
ceive, the  words  of  eternal  life  ;  to  be  baptized  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  to  receive  the  body 
and  blood  of  their  crucified  Redeemer.  On  the  Sabbath,  the 
Christian  world  bears,  in  this  manner,  no  unhappy  resemblance  of 
heaven ;  and  a  little  part  of  the  melancholy  hours  of  time  becomes 
a  fair  image  of  the  pure  and  never-ending  Sabbath  beyond  the 
grave. 

^Yilh  these  delightful  things  in  view,  can  we  fail  to  unite  with 
the  Church  ofthefrst-born^dnid  the  innumerable  company  of  Angels^ 
and  repeat  and  respond  their  divine  exultation  ?  Shall  not  our 
sons  bear  an  hi^ble  unison  with  theirs?  Shall  not  the  joy  which 
-  they  fc*l  V|l4he  '^at  business  of  this  day,  the  repentance  and  re- 
turn of  sinners,  fmd  a  welcome  admission  to  our  hearts  ?  Shall  we 
not  rejoice  in  Him  that  made  us  ;  shall  not  the  children  of  Zion  be 
joyful  in  their  King  ? 

God  on  this  day  rejoiced  over  the  creation,  which  his  hands  had 
made.  Angels  rejoiced  in  the  wonders  of  the  work,  and  in  the 
i/divine  Workman.  Christ  rejoiced  over  the  Church,  which  here- 
.  fleemod  with  his  own  blood.  Heaven  has  rejoiced  at  every  return 
of  this  delightful  season ;  and  renewed  its  transports  over  all  the 
sons  of  Adam,  whom  this  day  has  with  divine  eflScacy  raised  from 
death  to  life.  The  Lord  God  is  now  our  Sun,  and  our  Shield, 
Now  he  gives  grace  and  glory.  This  day  he  withholds  no  good 
thing  from  them  that  walk  uprightly.  Let  mortals  behold  mesc 
things  with  wonder  and  gratulation ;  and  anticipate  the  pure  and 
permanent  transports  of  the  everlasting  Sabbath  in  the  heavens. 

Nor  is  this  holy  day  to  be  less  regarded  with  Gratitude, 

All  the  benevolent  things,  which  God  has  done  for  us,  this  day 
brings  before  our  eyes.  Our  being,  our  daily  blessings,  our  Re- 
-demption,  our  Salvation,  the  resumed  character  of  holiness,  the 
title  to  endless  life,  the  final  escape  from  sin  and  misery,  this  heav- 
enly  season  proclaims  with  an  unceasing  voice.  At  this  seasoO) 
God  comes  aown  to  dwell  among  men,  devested,  with  respect  to 
all  who  are  willing  to  receive  him,  of  the  awful  frowns  of  an  of- 
fended Juvlge,  clothed  with  the  smiles  of  an  eternal  benefactor,  and 
adorned  with  the  endearing  titles  of  the  Father,  the  Redeemesr, 


h 


8ER.  COL]  THE  SABilTH.  t35 

and  the  Sanctificr,  of  man.  Here,  the  calls  to  ^titiide  are  all 
united.  The  blessings  of  earth  and  heaven,  of  tune  and  eternity, 
here  invite  us  to  love,  and  praise,  the  Author  of  all  our  mercies. 
Can  we  fail  to  render  to  him  according  to  his  benefits  ?  Can  we  fail, 
this  day  to  ascribe  blessings  and  honour,  and  glory ,  0nd  power, 
to  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb,  for  ever  and 
ever. 

4.  How  ought  the  Christian  Church  to  bless  God  for  this  Insti- 
tution^ 

To  this  Institution  we  owe  far  the  CTeater  part  of  the  spiritual 
blessings,  which  we  enjoy  ;  and  in  a  nigh  sense,  we  owe  them  all* 
But  for  this  day,  we  should  peither  have  sought,  nor  secured,  eter- 
nal life :  for  where  no  Sabbath  is,  there  is  no  religion.  But  for 
this  day,  earthly  things  would  have  engrossed  all  our  thoughts* 
Honour,  wealth,  and  pleasure,  are  the  real  Syrens,  which  charm 
mai\kind  to  shipwreck  and  death.  To  their  songs  the  eiair  of  man 
is  by  nature  attuned,  and  the  heart  beats  in  regular  response* 
But  for  this  day,  the  world,  as  a  canker,  would  rust,  corrupt,  and 
consume  all  the  disposition  to  piety,  and  all  the  hopes  of  heaven. 
The  soul  would  be  oenumbed.  Keligion  would  die.  God  would 
be  forgotten.  The  death  of  Christ  would  be  vain.  Mankind, 
would  cease  to  be  saved  :  and  heaven  would  fail  of  her  destined 
inhabitants.  How  desolate  the  prospect !  How  strongly  would 
this  world  resemble  the  regions  of  final  despak}  Td^||lMl9r<Sab- i< 
bath  dawns ;  where  no  prayers  nor  praises  ascend ;  no  sermons 
proclaim  pardon  and  peace  to  sinners  ;  the  voice  of  mercy  never 
sounds ;  and  the  smiles  of  forgiving,  redeeming,  and  sanctifying 
love  never  illumine  the  dreary  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 

All  things,  pertaining  to  salvation,  are  social  things  ;  ilnnes  of 
general  participation  and  powerful  sympathy.  They  exist  chiefly 
m  multitudes.  Without  the  Sabbath,  there  is  no  reason  to  believe, 
that  they  could  exist  at  all.  Not  where  one  is  employed  in  reli- 
gious worship,  merely,  nor  principally ;  but  where  two  or  thrts 
are  met  together  in  the  name  of  Christ  ;  is  his  presence  promised* 
Not  in  the  closet,  the  recess,  or  the  solitude,  out  on  Zion,  whither 
the  tribes  go  up,  has  the  Lord  commanded  the  blessing,  even  life 
for  evermore. 

5.  IVhat  an  illustrious  type  is  the  Sabbath,  of  the  everlasting  resl^ 
enjoyed  by  the  Children  of  God  ! 

The  Sabbath  is  a  rest  from  sin,  business,  and  pleasure ;  a  day. 
in  which  God  is  worshipped,  divine  knowledge  improved,  and 
holiness  attained  and  increased ;  a  day,  in  which  saints  delight* 
fully  commune,  and  joyfully  celebrate  the  wonders  of  Creation, 
anci  the  sublimer  wonders  of  Redemption.  On  the  Sabbath,  God 
is  peculiarly  present,  reconciled,  forgiving,  and  sanctifying ;  and 
the  spirit  of  truth  eminently  communicates  comfortable  evidence 
of  divine  love,  whispers  peace,  and  inspires  joy.  The  Sabbath 
is,  therefore,  the  day  of  nope  and  consolation,  of  enjoyment  and 


% 


Si6  4'         RSnECnONSi  fce.  [8EB.C0L 

triumph  ;  the  foret^te  of  heaven ;  the  entrance  to  the  glorious  as- 
sembly of  the  bleiMicl. 

The  future  rest  of  the  children  of  God  is  ^vinely  formed  of 
these  delightful  ingredients.  Here  eternal  peace  begins  its  undis* 
tUrbed  reign  over  all  the  great  kinsdom  of  Jehol^ah.  Here,  im- 
mortal minds  are  consummated  in  uat  hqlness,  which  is  (^  imagt 
of  thdheavenlif  Jldamm  Here,  those  minds,  in  the  exercise  oi 
that  hi^ness^.'<mth  ezalfed  friendship,  and  pure  vnbosome^  illter- 
course,  commence  their  everlasting  joy.  Here,  God  is  allifalL 
Here^  be  unvtils  l^s  face,  and  discloses  the  amiles  of  infinitii  Jove 
to*  the  assembly  of  4he  first  bom.    And  hereMk  Lamb,  the 


tf  Godj  and  tlU  ii^ht  of  heaven/illumines  alf  dieir  thoughts,  (;piclt-  J 
ens  all  their  affections, /«e(if  (Aem  «u<A /tvuijg  brecut^  leads  them  U  ^ 
•fowUams  of  living  waters^  Had  awakens  into  transport^  their  hj/nmt 
f^neter-^fidifig  praise. 


SERMON  ex. 


FIFTH   COUHiNDMENT. DOTY    OF    CHILDREIT. 


noKT  Uyjattirr  anil  llivmoihCT,lhat  thydayi 
\t  land  v/liicli  Ike  Lordlhn  Gadgitclk  tlite. 

T.HE  four  first  Commands  of  the  Decalogue  enjoin  ihose  which 
'e  called  the  Ditties  of  Pieli/.  These  were  written  on  (he  first  ta- 
le; and  were  summed  uphy  Moses,  and  by  Christ,  in  this  general 
le  :  7'hou  skalt  lote  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thf  heart,  mil/t  all 
y  soul,  icUh  all  thy  mind,  and  jcilh  all  thy  strength.  \Vc  are  now 
liering  ujwn  the  consideration  of  the  fix  last;  directing  what  are 
loimonly  called  the  duties  of  Morality,  or  our  dtUies  tooiards  man' 
nd.  These  were  written  upon  the  second  table,  and  are  summed 
)  by  Moses,  by  Christ,  and  by  St.  Paul,  in  the  second  great  com-  1 

and,  styled  by  St.  Jam'.a,  the  Royal  law  :   Thou  shall  love  thy  t^- 

ighhmir  as  thyself.     The  first  of  these  Commands  is  the  text.  A 

i  a  general  preface  to  the  observations,  which  I  propose  (omake,  *    ■ 

ccessively,  on  these  Commands,  it  will  be  proper  lo  remark,  that  ft^ 

ey  are  universally  to  be  extended  according  to  the  interpretation,  # , 

ren  by  our  Saviour  of  the  sixth  and  seventh,  in  his  Sermon  on  the  i 

ount.  In  commenting  on  the  former  of  these,  Christ  teaches  us, 
It  to  be  angry  mth  our  brother  icilkout  a  cause,  lo  say  unto  him 
tea,  or  thou  fool,  is  to  be  guilty  of  a  breach  of  this  command.  | 

commenting  on  the  seventh,  he  declares  thai  whosoever  looktih  \ 

a  woman,  to  lust  after  her,  the  same  hath  commUted  adultery  mtK  . 

r,  already,  in  his  heart.  Generally,  all  these  precepts  are  to  be 
videred  as  directing  our  duly,  in  all  respects,  which  by  inference 
analogy,  can  be  fairly  arranged  under  them.     Accordingly,  (lo  .  j 

re  an  example)  1  Bhall  consider  this  command  as  regulating  tie  M 

lies,  reciprocally  owed   by  parents  and  children,  magistrates  " 

d  subjects,  and  by  other  classes  of  mankind  in  'heir  several 
alions.  Thai  I  am  warranted  in  this  mjde  of  explaining 
!se  precepts,  is,  I  think,  evident  from  the  conduct  of  our  Sav-  I 

ir.     1  shall  only  add,  that  in  this  manner  they  have  been  gen-  I 

lily  understood  by  divines,   and  extensively  declared  in  Gate-  j 

isma  :  For  example,  in  that  of  the  iVestmitister  Asapmh\y,  that  H 

Dr.  XoKell,  and  that  of  King  Edward.     In  the  examination  of  ' 

I  subjects,  involved  in  this  command,  1  shall  begin  with  that, 
lich  IS  directly  expressed :  rus  duty  or  Childrcn  to  their 

BE  UTS. 


1 


J 


T^i- 


339  DUTT  OF  CHILDREIi  [8ER  CXi 

The  word  honour^  by  which  this  duty  is  here  enjoined,  is  chosen 
with  supreme  felicity;  as  being  sufficiently  comprehensive,  and 
suflBcionily  definite,  to  express  with  as  much  exactness,  as  can  easi- 
ly be  compassed,  all  the  several  branches  of  duty,  which  parents 
can  equitably  demand  of  their  children.  Particularly,  it  is  ex- 
plained by  Christ,  commenting.  Matt.  xv.  3,  on  the  vile  fetch,  by 
which  the  Pharisees  released  meir  disciples  from  obedience  to  this 
precept,  to  involve  the  obligation  of  .children  to  support  their  pa- 
rents  in  tlieir  indigence^  ana  old  age*  It  is  also  explained  by  SU 
Paul,  as  enjoining  the  universal  obedience  of  children*  In  its  own 
primary  sense,  also,  it  denotes  all  the  affectum,  and  veneration^ 
which  children  owe  to  their  parents^  and  which  constitute  so  exten- 
sive and  important  a  part  of  filial  piety. 

Filial  duties  are  so  numerous,  that  many  volumes  mieht  be  writ- 
ten on  this  subject  only,  without  particularizing  them  an.  Within 
the  limits  prescribed  to  these  discourses,  it  is  obvious,  nothing  more 
can  be  done,  than  to  exhibit  briefly  the  prominent  things,  included 
in  this  and  the  following  precepts.  Nothing  nnore,  therefore,  will 
be  attempted.  According  to  this  plan,  Filial  Duty  may  be  ad- 
vantageously comprised  under  the  following  heads. 

I.  Children  are  bound  to  regard  their  parents  with  respect  and 
reverence  at  all  times. 

Particularly,  these  exercises  of  filial  piety  are, 

1 .   To  exist  in  the  Thoughts. 

Keep  thy  hearty  said  David  to  Solomon,  with  all  diligence  ;  for 
out  of  it  are  the  issues  of  life.  All  good  proceeds  from  this  source, 
as  well  as  all  evil.  In  vain  will  children  labour  to  perform  their 
duty  in  any  other  manner,  if  they  neglect  it  in  this.  Here,  the 
whole  course  of  filial  piety  begins  ;  and,  if  not  commenced  here, 
will  never  be  pursued  with  any  success.  Thoughts  are  the  soul, 
the  living  principle  of  all  duty.  Every  thing  else  is  a  lifeless  body 
without  a  soul,  a  shadow  without  a  suDstance. 

Every  child  is  bound  to  entertain  the  most  respectful  and  rev- 
erential thoughts  concerning  his  parents,  and  concerning  the  pa- 
rental character.  He  is  to  remember,  and  regard  his  parents,  as 
standing  in  the  most  venerable,  and  the  most  endearing,  of  all  earth- 
ly reunions  to  him;  as  those,  to  whom,  under  God,  he  owes  his 
being,  and  the  great  mass  of  his  blessings.  He  is  to  regard  them 
as  the  [)'^rsons,  to  whose  kindness,  care,  and  government,  he  has 
been  cc>mmitted  by  God  himself.  He  is  to  consider  them  as  the 
best  or  all  friends;  the  most  affectionate,  the  most  faithful,  the 
most  confidential,  the  most  persevering,  the  most  watchful,  the  most 
unwearied. 

Hif>  afections  towards  them  ought  ever  to  be  reverential,  grateful, 
warm,  and  full  of  kindness.  Whatever  his  plans  or  purposeiare, 
he  ought  invariably  to  feel,  that  they  will  be  most  safely,  and  in 
ever}'  case  of  any  importance  should  be  regularly,  entrusted  to 
them  for  advice  and  direction.     Parents,  unless  when  under  the 


t. 


M 


SER.  CX]  HUTT  OF  CHILDREN.  289 

immediate  influence  of  some  strong  passion  or  prejudice,  very 
rarely  oppote,  of  design,  the  real  interests  of  their  children.  AI« 
most  all  the  counsels,  injunctions,  and  reproofs,  which  they  give, 
and  which  the  children  at  times  consider  as  unkind,  are  given,  in- 
tentionally  at  least,  for  their  good;  and  ought  to  be  regarded  only 
in  this  manner.  Children  arc  bound  to  fix  in  their  minds  a  habit- 
ual sense  of  the  superior  station,  and  wisdom,  of  their  parents,  and 
of  their  own  inferiority  in  all  these  respects.  Their  tnoughts  and 
affections  towards  them  ought,  universally,  to  spring  from  this  sense 
of  their  superiority :  a  superiority,  originated  oy  the  creating  hand 
of  God,  and  consummated  by  his  most  holy  law.  To  this  serse 
ought  all  their  views  to  be  conformed,  llie  beginnings  of  irrev- 
erence, the  first  tendencies  towards  disadvantageous,  hght,  disre- 
spectful apprehensions  concerning  them,  they  are  bound  to  crush 
in  the  bud,  and  to  cultivate  with  watchful  care  every  affectionate 
and  respectful  emotion. 

By  the  Providence  of  God  it  is  frequently  brought  to  pass,  that 
parents  are  in  humble  life ;  uneducated;  ignorant;  little  regarded 
oy  the  world ;  irreligious ;  not  unfrequently  openly  vicious,  and 
sometimes  plainly  scandalous.  Here,  filial  piety,  it  must  be  ac- 
knowledged, becomes  a  harder  task;  and  especially  in  the  last 
mentioned  cases,  is  attended  with  serious  difficulty  in  its  various 
duties.  Children  are,  however,  to  ropembcr,  that  God  has  given 
even  the  children  of  such  parents  no  dispensation,  with  respect  to 
their  filial  duties.  The  Command  in  the  text  is  addressed  to  thtm 
no  less  absolutely  than  to  other  children.  As  their  case  is  more 
difficult ;  they  are  required  to  make  more  careful  and  vigorous  ex- 
ertions; to  forget  the  personal  character,  and  to  remember., only 
the  parental.  The  children  may  be  better  educated ;  may  know 
more ;  may  have  better  dispositions;  and  may  sustain  better  char- 
acters. Let  them  remember,  that  to  God  in  the  first  place,  and 
ordinarily,  to  these  verj  parents  in  the  second,  they  owe  these 
blessings  :  and  let  them  show  their  gratitude,  their  superior  under- 
standing, to  the  eye  of  Him,  from  whom  they  derive  their  all,  by 
cultivatmg  the  sentiments  which  I  have  urged!,  and  by  resisting  ef- 
fectually those  which  I  have  condemned.  He  who  gave  tnem 
parents,  he  who  made  them  children,  he.  who  said  to  them,  Honour 
thy  father  and  thy  mother j  has  an  indisputable  right  to  require  this 
conduct  at  their  hands.  If  the  duty  is  difficult ;  it  is  proportional- 
ly excellent,  honourable,  and  lovely. 

2.  The  same  exercises  of  filial  piety  art  to  be  manifested  in  th$ 
Words  of  children* 

The  words,  uttered  by  children,  which  respect  their  parents  in 
any  manner,  are  to  correspond  with  the  thoughts,  which  nave  been 
here  recommended,  and,  if  effectual  care  is  taken  to  make  the 
tlionghts  right,  the  words  will  be  right  of  course. 

\V  ncn  children  speak  to  their  parents,  they  are  required  ever 
to  speak  modestly,  submissively,  and  respectfully.     Whatever 

Vol.  111.  37 


290  '  -  D^^TT  OF  CHILDREN.  [SER.  CX 

opinions  children  may  entertain,  which  may  differ  from  those  of 
their  parents  in  any  case,  it  is  their  duty  to  propose  with  humility, 
meekness,  and  respect.  They  are  to  address  them,  not  as  dispu- 
tants ;  not  as  equals ;  but  as  children ;  as  modest  inferiors.  Both 
their  words,  and  their  manner  of  uttering  them,  should  bear  une- 
quivocal evidence,  that  they  are  conscious  of  this  character. 

When  children  speak  of  their  parents  to  others,  they  are  bound 
to  speak  with  the  most  exact  cautipn,  and  with  similar  respect; 
and  never  to  say  any  thing  concerning  them,  which  they  would  be 
unwilling  to  say  to  them,  when  present.  It  is  their  duty  invaria- 
bly to  endeavour,  so  far  as  truth  and  propriety  will  admit,  to  ren- 
der tboHiharacter  of  their  parents  respectable  in  the  eyafjof  others. 
The  iaults  of  their  parents  it  is  their  duty  to  conceal ;  uieir  excel- 
lencies always  readily  to  admit ;  and  to  experience,  and  manifest, 
their  satisfaction,  when  others  admit  them.  They  are  not  indeed 
to  boast  of  the  good  <{ikalities  of  their  parents ;  as  they  are  not  to 
boast  of  any  thing  else ;  but  with  modesty  and  propriety  to  wel- 
come them,  when  mentioned  by  others ;  and,  when  they  have  a 
becoming  occasion,  to  speak  of  them  themselves. 

Sometimes  children  are  compelled  to  the  mortification  of  hear* 
ing  their  parents  ill  spoken  of  by  others.  Their  duty  then  requires 
them,  w&enever  they  can  do  it  with  success,  to  repel  the  ungener- 
'  Otis  attack,  and  to  defend  the  character  of  their  parents.  If  this 
is  not  in  their  power ;  they  are  bound  to  manifest  their  indigna- 
tion and  disgust,  by  such  aeclarations  as  the  nature  of  the  case 
demands  ;  and  at  least  to  prevent  themselves  from  the  pain,  and 
mischief,  produced  by  such  conversation,  by  withdrawing  finally, 
^  fixMii' persons  of  this  unreasonable  and  abusive  character. 

S*  The  same  spirit  ought  to  appear  in  all  the  Deportment  of 
Children. 

The  deportment  of  children,  when  their  parents  are  present, 
ought  to  exhibit  every  mark  of  respect.     The  honour,  required  in 
the  text,  ought,  in  the  literal  sense,  to  be  here  invariably  render- 
ed, without  qualification,  without  reserve,   without  reluctance. 
However  humole  the  station,  the  circumstances,  the  education  or 
the  manners  of  parents  may  be;  the  child,  instead  of  discovering, 
that  he  is  ashamed  of  theniy  or  of  assuming  to  himself  airs  of  impor- 
■  tance,  is  bound  cheerfully  to  acknowledge  their  proper  superiori- 
ty ;  to  exhibit  towards  them  a  respectful  deference ;  and  always  to 
Srevent  even  a  remote  suspicion,  that  he  is  reluctant  to  give  them 
leir  proper  place. 
\     II.  Children  are  bound  to  obey  the  Commands  of  their  parents. 
'■    ^  That  it  is  the  province  of  parents  to  govern,  and  that  of  Chil- 
ian to  obey,  will  not  be  questioned.      Nor  will  it  be  doubted, 
that  children  are  equally  hound  to  abstain  from  things,  prohibited 
by  their  parents,  as  to  perform  those,  which  they  enjoin.     Of  this 
obedience  it  may  be  observed, 

1.  TTiat  tt  ought  to  be  uniform  andfaithfuL 


r 


L  ex.]  DUTY  OF  CHILDREJI. 


ChildrtTi,  says  Si.  Pom/,  obey  jfonr  parents  in  all  things  ;  for 
this  it  right,  and  niell'pleaaing  to  the.  LotH.  To  the  universality 
of  this  precept  there  is  but  one  escpptlon  ;  and  that  is  when  the 
injunction  is  contrary  to  the  Law  of  God.  The  obedience  of  Ut- 
ile children  ought  undoubtedly  to  be  implicit.  They  are  plainly- 
incapable  of  directing  their  own  conduct ;  and  parents  are  appoint- 
ed by  God  himself  to  direct  it.  While  il  is  the  duly  of  the  parent 
lo  instruct  his  child  in  the  nature  of  moral  conduct,  and  the  rea- 
sonableness, and  rectitude  of  his  own  commands,  as  fast  as  the 
understanding  of  the  child  will  permit ;  and  to  give  no  commands, 
which  are  not  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God  :  il  is  undoubtedly  ine 
duly  of  itechilalo  obey  every  parental  precept,  except  Boch  as 
are  of  this, nature.     To  this  rule  I  know  of  no  exception. 

Filial  obedience  is  commonly  rendered  without  much  difficulty, 
when  parents  are  present.  Every  child  should  remember,  that 
his  obligations  to  onedicnce  arp  not  lessened  by  their  absence; 
that  God  is  then  present ;  that  he  has  required  iliem  not  to  obey 
with  eye-service ;  and  that  he  records  all  ibcir  conduct  in  the  book 
of  his  remembrance. 

They  are,  also,  ever  to  keep  in  mind,  thai  they  are  required  to 
obey  difficuU  commands,  as  well  as  those  which  are  easy;  those 
which  require  much  scl  ."-denial,  labour,  and  Irouble,  M  well  as 
those  which  are  altendc.i  only  with  pleasure ;  those  in  wtuch  their 
disobedience  will  never  be  delected,  as  well  as  those  in  which  it 
will  certainly  be  known.  No  other  obedience  deserves  the  name 
of  faithful. 

2.  Pdial  Obedience  ought  to  he  ready  and  cheerful. 
This  is  the  only  obedience  which  commends  itself  to  the  com*" 
mon  sense  of  mankind,  or  which  is  of  any  value  in  the  sight  of 
God.  In  this  obedience  the  heart  is  concerned,  and  the  child  ac- 
tive. Every  thing  else,  which  goes  under  this  naiue,  is  constrain- 
ed ;  hypocritical ;  a  cheat ;  a  sin.  No  other  is  regarded  \a  the 
Scriptures.  To  suslain  this  character,  the  obedience  of  children 
should  be  rendered  without  opposition,  and  without  delay.  A  great 
part  of  the  value  of  Filial  Obedience  arises  from  the  manner,  in 
which  it  is  rendered.  God  himself  lovei  the  cheerful  giver.  Man- 
kind have  esaclly  the  same  views  of  this  subject ;  and  universally 
consider  that,  which  is  done  grudgingly,  as  little  better,  and  often 
worse,  than  if  it  had  not  been  done  at  all. 

ill.  Children  are  bound  to  do  wkatevtr  viilt  reasonably  contribvla  I 

to  the  happiness  of  their  parents,  whether  commanded  or  not. 

The  modes,  in  which  this  part  of  filial  duly  is  to  be  rendered, 
are  so  numerous,  that  it  is  impossible  to  reciie  them.  It  will  be 
fiulficient  to  observe,  at  the  present  lime,  that  no  filial  piety  is  mora 
lovely,  or  more  accordant  with  the  text,  than  that  which  attentive- 
ly prevents  the  wants,  the  commands,  and  the  wishes,  of  parents  ; 
.    which  adds  to  their  comforts,  and  lessens  their  troubles,  in  a  thou- 


292  DUTY  OF  CHILDREX  [SER.  CXL 

sand  indescribable  ways,  readily  ofiering  themselves  to  the  mind 
of  a  dutiful  child. 

One  of  the  happiest,  modes  of  obeying  the  text  is  found  in  the 
discreet^  amiable^  and  virtuous^  behaviour  of  children.  Parents  are 
delightfully  honoured,  when  their  children  exhibit  excellent  con- 
duct before  mankind ;  and  thus  acquire  the  apj^robation  and  good- 
will of  those  around  them.  In  this  case  they  render  a  very  pleas- 
ing, and  very  honourable,  tribute  to  the  parental  wisdom,  care, 
and  faithfulness,  employed  in  their  education ;  and  show  in  the 
strongest  manner,  tnat  the  precepts,  by  which  they  have  been 
trained  up,  have  been  received  by  thera  with  such  reverence  and 
piety,  as  to  have  a  commanding  influence  upon  their  lives.  In  this 
manner  children  become  the  gtory  of  their  parents j  and  the  crovm 
of  grey  hairs. 

The  deities  of  children  obviously  change  with  the  change  of  agt 
and  circumstances.  When  they  are  very  young,  their  obedience,  as 
I  remarked,  must  be  implicit.  They  are  to  obey  without  investi- 
gation, inquiry,  or  doubt;  for  this  plain  reason,  that  they  are  inca- 
pable, altogether,  of  judging  for  themselves.  But  they  are  to  be 
S ^  ^^  J"^S^'  ^^  early  as  thoir  years  and  understanding  will 
t.  This  is  indispensal  !  ^ :  !  ?cause  by  learning,  habitually, 
lasoDS  on  w:  :;^h  their  j  .••  jiiio'  commands  are  founded,  they 
will  soon  learn  to  think,  that  they  are  all  reasonable ;  and  obey 
'  them  with  more  readiness,  and  exactness,  on  this  account ;  and  be- 
*     cause  many  cases  will  occur,  in  which  their  parents  cannot  be 

Present,  and  in  which,  therefore,  they  must  judge  for  themselves, 
'his,  it  is  plain,  they  cannot  do,  unless  they  are  taught.  Jls  they 
advance  in  years  and  understanding,  the  nature  of  their  obedienCC 
will  vary,  chiefly  from  this  circumstance,  that  they  understand  their 
duty,  and  the  reasons  on  which  it  is  founded ;  and  are  therefore  re- 
quired to  perform  it  from  a  due  regard  to  its  nature  and  importance, 
to  the  law  of  God  which  established  it,  and  to  the  character  and 
kindness  of  their  parents  which  demand  it  from  their  reverence 
and  their  gratitude.  In  other  respects,  their  obedience  is  found- 
ed on  the  same  principles,  during  the  whole  period  of  their 
non-age. 

Nor  do  the  same  rules  apply  to  them  in  a  very  different  man- 
ner, after  they  have  arriSea  at  adult  years ;  so  long  as  they  con- 
tinue in  their  father's  house,  and  are  members  of  his  family.  In 
this  situation,  however,  the  circumstances  of  both  parents  and 
children  vary  so  much,  that  the  relations  and  duties  of  both  are 
usually  modified  by  some  plan,  or  compact,  between  them,  suf- 
ficiently understood  to  serve  as  a  rule,  by  which  the  conduct  of 
the  child  is  to  be  directed.  I  shall,  therefore,  think  it  necessary 
only  to  observe,  that,  when  children  have  faithfully  performed 
their  duty  to  this  period,  they  rarely  fail  of  performing  it  after- 
wards. 


8£R.  (XI  DOIY  OF  CHILDREN.  ^iS 

When  children  have  left  their  father^s  house  ;  (heir  circumstan- 
ces become  more  materially  changed,  and  with  them,  in  sctc- 
ral  respects,  their  duties.  They  then  have  separate  interests,  and 
business  of  their  own  ;  and  usually  families  also.  When  God  iti^ 
stituted  marriage,  he  authorized  children  to  leave  the  house,  and 
government,  of  their  parents.  For  this  cause,  said  the  Creator,  " 
shall  a  man  leave  his  father  and  mother,  and  shall  cleave  unto  his 
wife.  Matthew  xix.  4,  5.  In  this  situation,  then,  children  become 
parents,  heads  of  families,  invested  with  all  the  authority,  possessed 
of  all  the  rights,  and  subjected  to  all  the  duties,  pertaining  to  their 
own  fiarents.  It  is  impossible,  that  in  these  circumstances  they 
should  fulfil  their  former  duties,  as  children  under  the  government 
of  their  parents,  unless  they  neglect  those,  which  are  indispensable 
in  their  present  situation.  From  many  of  these  duties,  tnerefore, 
they  are  released. 

Still ;  as  they  are  more  indebted  to  their  parents  than  to  any  other 
human  beings,  and  incomparably  more  indebted,  at  least  in  ordi- 
nary cases  ;  their  remaining  duties  to  their  parents  are  numerous 
and  important.  In  this  situation,  more  frequently  than  any  other, 
they  are  required  to  contribute  to  the  maintenance  of  dieir  pa- 
rents. This  is  made  by  our  Saviour  to  be  so  important  a  oranclt 
of  the  command  in  our  text,  that  he  declares  the  Pharisees^^yfho 
by  a  fraudulent  comment  on  this  precept  had  released  men  from' 
the  duty  in  question,  to  have  made  this  command  of  God  of  none  ef* 
feet  hu  their  tradition.  \n  this  period,  also,  they  are  bound  as  much  as 
may  be,  to  nurse  and  sooth  their  parents  in  pain  and  sickness  ;  to 
bear  patiently  and  kindly  their  infirmities  of  body  and  mind  ;  to 
alleviate  their  distresses ;  to  give  them  the  cheermg  influence  of 
their  company  and  conversation ;  and  in  these  and  various  other 
ways  to  serene  and  brighten  the  evening,  but  too  frequently  a 
melancholy  one,  of  old  age. 

The  children  of  sinful  parents  have  always  a  difficult  task  to 
perform.  To  a  pious  child,  a  parent,  visibly  going  down  in  the 
broad  and  crooked  road  that  leads  to  destruction,  is  a  sight  be- 
yond measure  distressing.  That  a  child,  thus  situated,  is  bound 
m  every  discreet  and  efficacious  manner  to  prevent,  as  far  as  may 
be,  the  awful  catastrophe,  will  not  be  Questioned,  unless  by  an 
atheiht.  What  is  to  be  done  in  so  dreadful  a  case,  it  will  be  im- 
possible to  prescribe  here,  unless  in  very  general  terms.  Every 
child  will  know  indeed,  without  information,  that  his  prayers  are  to 
be  offered  up  for  his  parent,  and  his  own  pious  example  pre- 
sented to  him,  without  ceasing.  Every  child  also  knows,  that  all 
his  own  measures,  whatever  they  may  oe  in  other  respects,  are  to 
be  obedient,  modest,  and  reverential.  No  other  measures  can,  in 
these  circumstances,  be  hopefully  followed  by  any  good  conse- 
quences. Still,  they  may  be  sufficiently  plain  and  unequivocal  M 
to  their  meaning. 


^ 


*. 


••>■ 


094  DUTY  OF  CHILDREN.  [SER.  CX. 

Among  the  efibrts,  made  by  such  a  child  in  addition  to  his  own 
.  discrc'tri  personal  conduct  and  conversation,  few  seem  better  fitted 
^  Joiapswer  the  end  in  view,  than  inducing  persons,  possessed  of 
/  XtoQWri  wisdom  and  piety,  especially  those  of  an  engaging  deport 
mtnt.  frequently  to  visit  the  parent,  and  persuading  him  also  ofieo 
to  visit  them;  placing  books  of  a  religious  nature,  written  in  a 
plea'iiiii;  and  interesting  manner,  within  his  reach ;  alluring  him 
reguLirly  to  the  house  of  God,  and  to  private  religious  assem- 
blies ;  and  introducing  without  any  apparent  design,  religious  topics, 
especi;»lly  those  which  are  peculiarly  interesting,  as  often  as  may 
be  with  propriety.  In  my  own  view,  the  child  is  also  b6und  mod- 
estly, submissively,  and  discreetly,  to  remonstrate  against  the 
visiDle  wickedness  of  the  parent.  1  can  see  no  reason,  which  will 
justify  a  child'  in  the  omission  of  this  duty ;  although  I  am  not 
unaware  of  the  peculiar  difficulties  which  attend  it,  nor  unapprised 
of  the  peculiar  delicacy,  and  prudence,  which  it  demands.  Re- 
prooi',  even  from  equals,  or  superiors,  requires  more  skill,  and 
care,  in  order  to  render  it  successful,  than  fall  to  the  lot  of  most 
men.    In  a  child  to  a  parent  it  must  be  singularly  embarrassing. 

A  l|ss  delicate  task,  yet  still  attended  with  many  difficulties,  lies 
in  avoiilin^  the  influence,  naturally  presented,  and  often   but  too 
efficaciously,  by  the  sentiments,  precepts,  and  examples,  of  evil 
parenis.  The  parental  character  is  so  venerable,  so  authoritative, 
so  endearing,  and  so  persuasive,  that  the  child,  who  escapes  its 
mali^^.'iant  influence,  when  employed  to  encourage  sin,  may  well 
be  considered  as  eminently  the  object  of  the  divine  favour.     Still 
it  is  possible  ;  and  has  existed  in  multiplied  instances.  Abijah  es- 
caped even  in  the  house  of  Jeroboam;  Hezekiah  in  that  of  Ahaz; 
and  Josiah  in  that  of  Amon.  Thus,  also,  has  the  fact  often  been  in  all 
succeeding  ages  of  time.    Children,  therefore,  instead  of  despair- 
ing, should  gird  themselves  with  watchfulness  and  resolution,  suit- 
ed to   their  circumstances ;   should  continually,  and   fervently, 
beseech  God  to  guard  them  by  his  good  Spirit  from  the  dan- 
gers, in  which  they  stand;  should  watch  their  own  conduct  with 
peculiiir  anxiety;  should  seek  for  wisdom,  and  direction,  from 
religious   books,    especially   from   the    Scriptures;   and   should 
ask  a' 1  vice,  countenance,  and  assistance,  from  those  among  their 
friend-i  who  are  persons  of  piety.     The  company  of  such  per- 
sons counteracts,  in  a  manner  invaluable,  the  influence  of  evil 
eXamj;lc.     He  that  walketh  with  wise  men,  says  God,  shall  be 
wise. 

Having  thus  given  a  summary  account  of  the  Duties  of  chil- 
dren, i  shall  now  proceed  to  mention  several  Reasons  to  enforce 
them. 

1 .  /JiYry  considerate  child  will  feel  his  filial  duty  strongly  urged 
by  thi  Excellence  of  this  canductj  and  the  Odioasness  of  filial 
impittj. 


»        •     1 

1 


8ER.  ex.]  UUTT  OF  CHILDREN.  295 

Tbi^  is  one  of  the  few  moral  siibjects,  concerning  which  all  men 
are  a^uctl.  Tne  writers  of  all  ages  and  of  all  couniries,  hive'  f 
taught  \!>  with  a  single  voice,  that  to  the  coqimon  eye  of  manfcin^.  * 
no  oi>j<  ( t  is  more  amiable,  or  more  delightful,  than  a  dutiful  am  - 
virtuuj>  child.  TIjis  charming  object  commends  itself,  at  first 
view,  i'>  ihc  natural  feelings,  the  judgment,  and  the  conscience, 
of  all  ii.ciu  It  commends  itself  at  once,  without  dehbei*ation,  and 
without  doubt.  It  has  commended  itself  to  persons  of  every  char- 
acter, ill  every  age,  and  in  every  country.  It  is  esteemed  :  it  is 
loved.  The  afibction  which  it  excites,  and  the  reputation,  which 
it  protiuces,  are  sincere,  solid,  and  permanent.  Nothing  more 
certainly  generates  esteem:  nothing  more  uniformly  creates  friends. 
It  is  a  kind  of  glory,  surrounding  the  <:hild,  wherever  he  goes, 
seen,  foit,  and  aclcnowledged,  by  all  men,  and  conferring  a  distinc- 
tion, otherwise  unattainable.  All  persons  presage  well  of  such  a 
child  :  and  he  is  expected,  of  course,  to  fill  every  station,  to  which 
his  talents  are  suited,  with  propriety,  and  honour. 

An  uhdutiful  child,  on  the  contrary,  brands  his  own  character 
urith  odiousncss  and  infamy.  No  person  sees  him,  or  thinks  of 
him,  without  pain  and  disgust.  No  parent  is  willing,  that  his  own 
children  should  become  his  companions.  The  vilest  persons  re- 
gard him  with  contempt  and  abhorrence ;  the  best,  with  pity  and 
indignation.  A  parent,  on  his  death-bed,  hardly  knows  how  to  ask 
a  blessing  for  him:  and  those,  who  survive,  are  still  more  unable 
to  believe  it  will  descend  upon  his  head. 

2.  Considerate  children  will  find  another  powerful  reason  for 
filial  dutij  in  the  Pleasure^  which  it  gives  their  parents. 

Nothing,  which  takes  place  in  human  life,  creates  a  higher,  more 

S?nuine,  or  more  unmingled,  pleasure  in  the  minds  of  parents,  than 
e  pious  and  dutiful  conduct  of  their  children.  It  is  indeed  inx- 
i)ossible,  that  a  child  should  form  adequate  conceptions  of  the  de- 
ight,  which  such  conduct  awakens  in  tne  parental  heart.  Experi- 
ence only  can  completely  teach  the  nature  of  this  emotion.  Still, 
children  cannot  but  know,  that  their  parents  in  this  manner  find 
exquisite  enjoyment ;  nor  can  they  be  ignorant,  that  to  produce  it 
is  one  of  their  own  chief  blessings,  as  well  as  one  of  their  indispen- 
sable duties.  Filial  Piety  is  a  continual  feast;  an  ample  reward 
for  every  parental  care,  toil,  watching,  anxiety,  and  prayer.  It 
sweetens  all  the  bitterness  of  human  life ;  and  adds  an  exquisite 
relish  to  every  comforL  The  burdens  of  life  it  makes  light  and 
easy ;  and  is  the  most  supporting  stay,  on  this  side  of  heaven,  to  the 
weary  stops  of  declining  age. 

An  undutiful  child,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  broken  reed^  on  whichj 
if  a  man  Ican^  it  shall  thrust  through  /tis  hand^  and  pierce  him.  A 
foolish  son  '^  a  heaviness jaiWke  to  his  father  and  his  mother^  a  spot 
on  their  character;  a  trial  of  their  patience ;  a  blast  upon  their 
hopes  ;  a  nuisance  to  their  family ;  and  a  thorn  in  their  hearts. 


'■  .»• 


.  \t  : 


S96 


DUTY  OF  6HlLDRESr. 


[SER.  CX 

J: 

3.  Tfu  demands  of  Gratitude  present  a  combination  of  such  lM» 
eons  to  every  such  child^for  the  same  conduct.  .  ^^ 

.    Parental  love  is  unrivalled  by  any  affection  of  the  human  br^k 
in  its  strength,  its  tenderness,  its  patience,  its  permanency,  and  its 
cheerful  self-denial.     The  labours  which  it  undergoes,  and  the 
willingness  with  which  it  undergoes  them,  are  unexampled  in  the 
concerns  of  man.     Mo  other  affection  toils  with  the  same  readiness 
and  patience,  or  voluntarily  encoujiters  the  same  waichings,  cares, 
pains,  and  anxieties.     None  prompts  so  many  prayers ;  none 
awakens  so  many  tears*    Most  of  , human  life,  after  we  arrive  at 
adult  age,  is  spent  in  providing  for  the  wants,  alleviating  the  suf- 
ferings, removmg  the  diseases,  furnishing  the  education,  guarding 
the  conduct,  securing  the  safety,  accomplishing  the  settlement, 
and  promoting  the  salvation,  of  children.     More  is  done  by  pa- 
rents, and  daily  done,  than  children  can  ever  realize,  until  they  are 
called  to  do  tne  same  things  for  their  own  offspring.     All,  at  the 
same  lime,  are  efforts  of  tenderness  merely.     These  eflTorts  are 
almost  without  number;  this  tenderness  almost  without  degree. 
What  child,  who  remembers  that  he  is  indebted  to  his  parents  for 
his  being,  and  under  God  for  almost  every  blessing  which  he  en- 
joys, for  almost  all  that  he  is,  and  almost  all  that  he  has,  can  fail  to 
feel,  and  to  acknowledge,  that  the  utmost,  which  he  can  do  in  the 
proper  course  of  filial  piety,  is  an  imperfect  requital  for  such  affec- 
tions, and  such  blessings,  as  these  ?     That  there  are  such  beings  I 
am  reluctantly  compelled  to  confess.     Children  they  ought  not  to 
be  callcHJ.     They  are  unworthy  of  the  name*    They  are  monstrous 
productions,  out  of  the  course  of  nature  ;  and,  like  all  such  pro- 
ductions, fill  the  mind  only  with  loathing  and  horror.     Let  suck. 
children  remember,  that  thev  are  objects  of  still  more  abhorrem 
to  God,  than  to  men.     Let  tnem  remember,  that  this  gi*eat  and  aw- 
ful Being,  who  has  styled  himself  the  Father  of  mankind,  and  who 
has  imaged  his  own  tenderness  for  his  creatures  by  that  of  a  father 
to  his  children,  will,  at  the  final  day,  vindicate  the  parental  rights  in 
a  terrible  manner  by  inflicting  the  severest  punishment  on  undutiful 
children* 

4.  The  great  Advantages  of  filial  piety  present  strong  reasons 
for  the  practice  of  it  to  children  of  every  character* 

Of  the  text  St.  Paul  observes,  when  enjoining  the  duties  of  it 
upon  the  children  of  the  Ephesian  Christians,  that  it  is  the  first 
Commandment  with  promise.  Accordingly,  he  urges  their  obe- 
dience to  it  upon  the  very  ground  of  this  promise,  that  their  dmjt 
also  might  be  long  upon  the  land^  which  the  Lord  their  God  had  giv- 
en  them.  This  promise,  therefore,  to  such  an  extent,  that  an  Apos- 
tle thought  proper  to  urge  it  upon  the  Ephesian  Christinns,  extends 
to  the  Gentiles.  The  promises  to  the  Jews,  in  most  instances,  an- 
nounced temporal  blessings  only.  Those,  which  are  made  to 
.£^istians,  chiefly  convey  spiritual  blessings.  But  that,  which  ifl 
tontained  in  the  text,  conveys  temporal  blessings  also*    In  ooit 


L  CX.J  DUTY  OP  CHtLDREN. 


TWSing  wilh  ihe  plain  people  of  this  country,  distingaished  for 
Ibetr  good  sense,  and  careful  observaiion  of  facts,  I  have  found 
them,  to  a  great  extent,  firmly  persuaded  of  the  verification  of  thig 

firomise  in  our  own  days ;  and  ready  to  produce  a  variety  of  proofs 
rom  cases,  in  which  they  have  seen  the  blessing  realized.  Their 
opinion  on  ihis  subject  Is  mine ;  and  with  their  experience  my  own 
has  coincided. 

Indeed,  no  small  measure  of  prosperity  seems  ordinarily  inter- 
roonen'wiih  a  course  of  filial  pieiy.  The  comfort  which  ii  insures 
to  parents,  the  harmony  which  it  produces  in  the  family,  Ihe  peace 
which  it  yields  to  the  conscience,  are  all  esseniiai  ingredients  of 
happiness.  To  these  ii  adds  the  approbation  of  every  beholder, 
the  possession  of  a  fair  and  lasting  reputation ;  the  confidence, 
and  good-will  of  every  worthy  man ;  and,  of  consequence,  ani  op- 
portunity of  easily  gaining  those  useful  employments,  which  wor- 
thy men  have  to  give.  Beyond  this,  it  naturally  associates  wilh 
itself  that  temperance,  moderation,  and  sobriety,  which  furnish  a 
solid  foundation  for  health  and  long  life.  In  my  own  apprehen- 
sion, however,  these  are  not  all  its  blessings.  I  do  not  believe, 
that  miracles  are  wrought  for  its  reward.  Neither  will  1  say,  that 
purer  gales  breathe,  to  preserve  its  health;  nor  that  softer  suns 
arise,  or  more  timely  rains  descend,  to  mature  its  harvests;  nor 
that  more  propitious  winds  blow,  to  waft  its  ships  home  in  safety. 
But  I  will  say,  that  on  the  tide  of  providence  multiplied  blessings 
are  borne  into  its  possession,  at  seasons  when  ihey  are  unexpect- 
ed, in  ways  unforeseen,  and  by  means  unprovided  by  its  own 
|_  forecast,  which  are  oCten  of  high  importance  ;  which  altogether, 
^^^tituie  a  rich  pfo'portion  of  prosperity ;  and  which,  usually,  are 
not  found  by  persons  of  the  contrary  character. 

At  the  same  time,  those,  who  act  well  as  children,  almost  of 
course  act  well  as  men  and  women ;  and  thus  have  taken,  without 
design,  the  cion  of  happiness  from  the  parental  Adck,  and  grafted 
it  upon  other  stems,  wnich  bear  fruit  abundantly  to  ibeusclTea. 
Here,  in  the  language  of  Dr.  Watts, 


It  IS  also  never  to  be  forgotten,  that  filial  piety,  if  derived  from 
an  evangelical  source,  is  entitled  to  the  peculiar  favour  of  God  in 
the  present  world,  and  to  the  everlasting  blessings  of  the  world 
to  come. 

b.  Tkt  DeclaralioTis  of  God  coTtcerning  this  important  tnihitct, 
fumiih  reasons  at  once  alluring  and  azn/ul,  for  the  exerdse  ofjilial 
pull/. 

The  text  is  an  illustrious  example  of  this  nature,  of  the  most 
persuasive  kind.     Deut  xxi.  18,  gives  us  a  terrible  one  concern- 
me  the  slubboro  and  rebellious  son.     The  eye,  says  jigur,  that 
Vol.  111.  38 


197  ■ 


>< 

t 

398  DUT7  OF  CHELDREN.  [SEK  CX^ 

•  "i 
mocketh  at  his  father ,  and  refuseth  to  obey  his  mother  ^  the  ravens  rf 
the  valley  sluill pick  it  out^  and  the  young  eagles' sliall  eat  it. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  accounts  of  this  subject  to  be  found 
in  the  Scriptures,  as  it  has  struck  my  mind,  is  exhibited  in  the 
d5th  ChapUEr  of  Jeremiah*  Jonadab^  the  son  ofRechaby  command- 
ed his  children,  and  their  posterity,  neither  to  drink  wine,  nor  to 
build  houses,  nor  to  sow  seed,  nor  to  plant  vineyards,  btd  to  dwell  m 
tents  from  generation  to  generation.  The  Rechabites  obeyed  his 
yoice ;  and,  at  the  time  of  Jeremiah,  had,  for  three  hundred  years, 
liyed  in  the  manner  which  their  Ancestor  enjoined.  As  a  reward 
of  their  filial  obedience,  the  Prophet  Jeremiah  was  sent  unto  tlie 
Rechabites  with  this  remarkable  message.  Thus  saith  Jebotah 
of  hosts,  the  God  of  Lrael ;  because  ye  have  obeyed  the  command' 
ment  of  Jonadah,  your  father,  and  kept  all  his  precepts,  and  done 
according  to  all  that  he  hath  commanded  you  ;  there/ore  thus  saiA 
JEHoyAH  of  hosts,  the  God  of  Israel,  Jonadab  the  son  of  Rechab, 
shall  not  want  a  man  to  stand  before  me  for  ever. 

6.  The  Example  of  Christ  is  a  reason,  of  the  highest  import^  to 
compel  the  exercise  of  filial  piety. 

This  wonderful  persotk,  notwithstanding  his  ^eat  and  glorioog 
character,  and  sublime  destination,  was  the  fairest  specimen  oT 
obedience  to  parents,  eyer  seen  in  the  present  world.  Let  chil- 
dren remember,  that,  if  they  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  they  art 
none  of  his.  He  was  subject  to  his  parents,  as  a  child  of  their  &m- 
ily,  until  he  was  thirty  years  of  age ;  and  forgot  not,  when  he  hung 
on  the  cross,  to  proyide  an  effectual  support  and  protection  for  his 
Mother.  Let  aU  children  remember,  when  they  are  weary  of  la- 
bouring for  their  parents,  that  Christ  laboured  for  his  ;  when  they 
are  impatient  of,iheir  commands,  that  Christ  cheerfully  ol^ed; 
when  they  are  liRuctant  to  proyide  for  their  parents,  that  0ffist 
forgot  himselfiOnd  proyided  for  his  mother,  amid  the  agoiMifcof 
crucifixion.  llieMectiotiate  language  of  this  Diyine  exainpNto 
every  child  is,  Go  thou,  and  do  likewise. 


>*. 


SERMON  CXL 

riFTH  COMMANDMENT. — DUTY  OF  PARENTS* 


pBOTsmBt  xxii.  6. — TVotn  t^  a  ehUd  in  the  way  he  should  go  ;  andt^en  heitoidh$ 

mil  not -depart  from  it. 

In  the  preceding  discourse,  I  gave  a  brief  account  of  the  Du" 
Har  ^  Children,  1  shall  now  proceed  to  consider  the  Duties  of 
Parents.  This,  also,  I  must  consider  in  a  very  summary  manner, 
notwithstanding  the  copiousness,  and  importance,  of  the  subject. 

In  this  passage  of  ocriptore,  parents  are  directed  to  train  ta> 
ikeir  children  in  the  way  in  which  they  should  go  :  and,  to  encour- 
age them  to  this  duty,  a  promise  is  given,  that  their  children,  if 
trained  in  this  way,  will  not  depart  from  it.  The  word,  train^  orr- 
ginally  denotes  to  draw  along  by  a  regular  and  steady  course  of  eX' 
trtians ;  and  is,  hence,  very  naturally  use<f  to  signify  drawing  from 
me  action  to  another  by  persuasions^  promises  avM  other  efforts^  con- 
tismallu  repeated.  In  a  loose  and  general  sense,  therefore,  it  may 
easily  mclude  all' the  duties  of  Parents  to  their  children. 

Tne  way  in  which  a  child  should  go,  is  undoubtedly  the  way, 
in  which  it  is  best  for  hind  to  go,  with  respect  both  to  his  temporal 
and  eternal  well-being. 

These  duties  are  customarily,  and  justly,  distributed  under  three 
keads: 

The  Maintenance  ; 

Tht  Education  ;  znA^ 

-J^' Settlement  ;  of  Children. 

Tke  Maintenance  of  Children  must  unqu^stionaUy  be  such,  a» 
tbe  circumstances  of  the  parents  will  admit,  consistently  witb  the 
dictates  of  prudence ;  and  such  as  will  secure  comfort  to  their 
children.  Their  food  and  raiment,  their  employments  and  grati- 
fications, ought  to  be  all  such,  as  to  promote  their  health.  They 
are  carefiilly  to  be  nursed  in  sickness,  and  yarded  from  danger. 
Their  enjoyments  of  every  kind  ought  invariably  to  be  innocent ; 
reasonable  in  their  numoer  and  degree ;  evident  testimonies  of 
parental  wisdom,  as  well  as  of  parental  affection ;  such  as  shall 
prevent  them  from  suffering  unnecessary  mortification  ;  and  such 
as  shall  not  flatter  pride,  foster  avarice,  or  encourage  sloth  or  sen- 
suality. They  ought  also  to  be  such,  as  to  pkce  them  upon  the 
same  level  with  the  children  of  other  discreet  parents  in  similar 
circumstances. 

77ie  education  of  children  involved  their  Instruction^  and  Goveny* 
ment. 

The  Instruction  of  children  includes, 


300  DUTY  OF  PARENTS  [SER.  GXL 

Tht  Things,  which  they  are  to  be  taught^  and, 

J%«  Manner  of  leaching  them. 

The  Things,  which  Children  are  to  be  taught,  may  be  distributed 
under  the  two  heads  of  Natural  Knowledge ;  and  Moral  Knaah 
ledge. 

Natural  Knowledge  includeS| 

L  Their  Learning. 

By  this  I  intend  every  thing,  which  they  are  to  gain  from  books: 
^  whether  it  be  Learning,  appropriately  so  called,  or  the  knowledge  of 

Arts  and  Sciences.  Of  this  subject  I  observe,  generally,  that,  like 
the  Maintenance  of  Children,  it  must  comport  with  the  circum- 
stances of  the  Parents.  It  ought,  also,  to  be  suited  to  the  char- 
acter, talents^ and  destination,  of  the  Child.  But  an  acquaintance 
with  Readine,  Writing,  and  Arithitfelic,  is  indispensably  necessary 
.  to  everu  Child.  It  is  indispensable,  that  every  child  should  read 
the  Scriptures ;  highly  important,  that  he  should  read  other  reli- 
^6us  l^ooks  ;  and  very  useful,  that  he  should  enlarge  his  mind  by 
such  diversified  knowledge,  as  may  render  him  beaeficial  to  him- 
self and  to  mankind. 

2.  Natural  Knowledge  includes,  also,  an  acquaintance  with  at 
least  some  one  kind  of  useful  Business. 

Ordinarily,  this  acquaintance  can  be  gained  only  in  the  practical 
manner  ;  that  is,  by  placing  the  child,  at  an  early  period  of  life, 
in  the  business,  which  is  to  be  learned.  After  he  has  been  instruct- 
ed in  Reading,  Writing,  and  Arithmetic,  which  are  indispensable 
to  the  advantagebiiis  prosecution  of  every  kind  of  business,  he 
should  be  required  to  do  the  very  business,  in  which  he  is  to  be  edu- 
cated. 

There  is  no  greater  mistake  on  the  part  of  rich  parents,  than 
their  neglect  of  educating  their  children  to  the  thorough  knowledge 
of  some  useful  business.  It  is  often  observed,  and  generally  felt, 
that  such  an  education  is  unnecessary,  because  their  children  are 
to  inherit  fortunes.  The  children  also  feel  and  are  taught  by  their 
parents  to  feel,  that  such  an  education  is  utterly  unnecessary  for 
themselves.  Both,  at  the  same  time,  are  but  too  apt  to  consider 
active  employments,  and  even  the  knowledge  necessary  to  direct 
.them,  as  humiliating,  and  disgraceful,  to  the  children.  These  are 
very  great  mistakes;  the  dictates  of  pride  and  vanity,  and  not  of 
good  sense.  Were  nothing  but  the  present  prosperity  of  childien 
to  be  regarded ;  they  ought  invariably  to  be  educated  in  the  know- 
ledge of  useful  business.  Almost  all  the  wealth  in  this  countjyis 
in  the  hands  of  those,  who  have  acquired  it  by  their  own  industry: 
and  almost  all  those,  who  inherit  fortunes,  dissipate  them  in  early 
life;  and  spend  their  remaining  days  in  poverty  and  humiliation. 
Ignorance  of  business ;  and  its  consequences,  idleness  and  profu- 
sion ;  will  easily,  and  in  a  short  time,  scatter  any  estate.  A  fortune 
iS  a  pond,  the  waters  of  which  will  soon  run  out :  well-directed  in- 
dustry is  a  spring,  whose  streams  are  perenniaL 


SER.  Cn.]  DUTY  OF  PAREIfTa  50| 

Besides,  the  man,  who  pursues  no  useful  business,  is  without 
significance,  and  without  reputation.  The  sound  coirmon  sense 
oi  mankind  will  never  annex  character  to  useless  hfe.  He  who 
merely  hangs  as  a  burden  on  the  shoulders  of  his  fellow-men ; 
who  adds  nothing  to  the  common  stock  of  comfort,  and  merely 
spends  his  time  in  devouring  it;  will* invariably,  as  well  as  justly, 
be  accounted  a  public  nuisance. 

Beyond  all  this,  eveiy  parent  is  bound  by  his  duty  to  God,  and 
his  children,  to  educate  them  to  useful  business,  in  order  to  enable 
them  to  perform  their  own  duty ;  to  become  blessings  both  to 
themselves  and  mankind ;  and  to  possess  the  rational  enjoyments, 
furnished  by  a  life  of  industrious  activity  j^  in  their  very  nature  in- 
comprehensibly superior  to  sloth  and  profusion. 

Moral  Knowledge  is  all  included^  as  well  as  enjoinedj  in  the  Scrip* 
tures.  It  is  also,  in  its  own  nature,  Jfcither  direcdy,  or  indirectly^ 
all  practical. 

Knowledge  of  this  kind  is  naturally  distributed  under  the  fbU 
lowing  heads : 

1.  Pitty. 

To  this  head  belongs  Reverence  to  God.  Every  child  should  be 
taught,  from  the  beginning,  to  fear  that  great  and  glorious  Being, 
to  whom  he  owes  his  existence,  his  blessings,  and  his  hopes.  This 
knowledge  is  indispensable  to  all  rectitude  of  character.  As  I  have 
considered  the  general  nature  of  this  subject  in  a  former  dis- 
course ;  I  shall  only  observe  here,  that  nothing  will,  in  an  equal 
degree,  secure  a  child  from  sin ;  strengthen  him  against  the  force 
of  temptation ;  or  fix  his  feet  immoveably  in  the  path  of  righte- 
ousness. 

Inseparably  connected  with  this  subject  is  a  sense  ofAccounta' 
hleness.  Every  child  should  know,  as  soon  as  he  is  capable  of 
knowing,  that  he  is  a  Moral  being  in  a  state  of  probation,  for  his 
conduct,  in  which  he  will  be  hereafter  judged  and  rewarded;  that 
God  is  an  eye-witness  to  all  his  secret  and  open  conduct  alike ; 
and  that  every  thing,  which  he  speaks,  thinks,  or  does,  will  be  the 
foundation  of  his  final  reward.  Proper  impressions  of  these  two 
great  subjects,  habitually  made  in  the  early  periods  of  childhood, 
will  influence  the  life  more  than  any  other  considerations  ;  will  re* 
vive,  after  they  have  been  long  thought  to  have  been  forgotten ; 
and  will  produce  happy  eflfects,  when  all  other  causes  have  lost 
their  power. 

With  the  same  care,  should  children  be  accustomed  to  read  the 
Scriptures^  whenever  they  have  become  able  to  read.  Here  they  will 
find  these  great  subjects,  as  well  as  all  others  of  a  similar  nature, 
placed  in  tne  strongest  light,  and  taught  in  the  most  perfect  man- 
ner :  a  manner  suited  to  every  mind,  capable  of  understanding 
such  subjects  at  all.  Here,  particularly,  facts,  and  charactei^,  of 
a  moral  nature,  are  exhibited  with  a  felicity  altogether  unrivalled. 
With  both  of  these,  children  are  dehgtited ;  and  &8teu  on  both 


» « 


302  DOTY  OF  PARENTS.  [SfiR.  CXL 

with  that  peculiar  earnestness,  which  prevents  them  from  being 
ever  obliterated.  As  they  are  presented  in  the  Scriptures,  they 
are  eminently  entertaining  to  children ;  and  to  a  great  extent,  are 
set  in  so  obvious  a  light,  as  to  be  easily  understood  even  by  very 
young  minds. 

Every  child  should  he  taughi,  al§o,  that  he  is  a  sinner;  and^  as 
such^  exposed  to  the  anger  of  God.  The  eflScacy  of  this  instruction 
upon  the  early  mind  is  of  the  most  desirable  nature.  Nothing 
more  successfully  checks  the  growth  of  pride  ;  the  mpst  universal 
the  most  pleasing,  the  most  operative,  and  the  most  mischievous, 
of  all  the  human  passions.  Without  this  instruction,  also,  all 
other  religious  teaching  will  be  in  vain.  He,  who  is  not  conscious 
that  he  is  a  sinner,  will  never  take  a  single  step  towards  salva*ion. 
Happily,  children  very  easily  receive  and  admit,  this  instruction. 
In  the  earlier  periods  of  life  the  conscience  is  so  far  unbiassed,  and 
possesses  so  great  power,  as  to  indiuce  the  heart,  however  reluctant 

'if^  itself,  regularly  to  acknowledge  the  truth  of  this  important  doc- 

*tnne. 

As  sotim  as  A  is  practicable^  every  child  should  be  conducted  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  Saviour.  On  the  infinite  importance  of  this  indis- 
pensable knowledge  I  need  not  here  dwell.  Suffice  it  to  obsenrei 
that  children  will  sooner  imbibe  this  knowledge,  than  parenti 
are  usually  aware  ;  and  that  childhood  is,  often,  the  only  oppor- 
tunity for  obtaining  it,  which  they  ever  enjoy. 

Finally,  children  should  be  carefully  instructed  in  all  the  exiemai 
dtUies  of  Piety.     They  should  be  effectually  as  well  as  unci0isine- 

•  ly  taught  to  mention  the  name  of  God,  and  every  thing  obviousFy 
related  to  this  awful  Being  with  profound  Reverence  only;  to  ob- 
serve the  Sabbath,  from  tne  begmning  to  the  end,  with  religious 
exactness ;  to  be  present  punctilicusly  at  the  public  worship  of 
God,  and  to  attend  to  all  the  ordinances  of  it  with  reverence  and 
care;  to  attend  in  the  same  manner  upon  family  worship;  and  in 
the  same  manner  to  perform,  regularly,  every  morning  and  every 
evening,  the  duty  of  secret  prayer. 

All  tnese  things  should  be  explained  to  children  in  such  a  man- 
ner, as  to  render  their  views  of  them  just,  and  rational,  and  their 

*  practice  of  them  Evangelical,  and  not  a  mere  matter  of  form. 

2.  Morality  ;  or  the  jDutieSy  which  respect  our  fellow-men. 

Among  these,  Truth  should  hold  the  first  place.  As  I  expect 
.  speedily  to  examine  the  nature  and  importance  of  this  subject,  as 
well  as  most  others  ^hich  will  be  mentioned  in  this  discussion  ;  it 
will  be  unnecessary  to  expatiate  upon  thpm  at  present.  It  will  be 
sufficient  to  say  here,  that  a  profound  and  reverential  regard  to 
truth  should  be  awakened  in  the  mind  of  a  child,  from  the  moment 
when  he  begms  to  assert  any  thing ;  that  no  variations  from  it, 
either  in  jest  or  in  earnest,  should  ever  be  permitted  to  pass  with- 
out animadversion ;  that  its  natui^  and  importance  should  be  ex- 
plained to  the  child,  as  soon  as  be  is  able  to  understand  them ;  that 


^^ 


SER.  CXL]  DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  303 

resistance  to  falsehood  and  prevaricaliori  should  invariably  be 
made  unconditionally,  and  without  any  abatement ;  that  this  re- 
sistance should  be  made  in  every  hopeful  manner,  and  to  every 
necessary  degree,  and  should  never  cease,  until  the  veiacily  of  the 
child  shall  be  effectually  secured ;  that  every  encouragement  to 
veracity,  which  prudence  can  suggest,  should  be  holden  out  to^ 
him  continually  ;  and  that  a  rigid  example  of  speakine  truth,  arid  . 
fulfilling  promises,  should  be  set  before  him  by  all,  with  whom  he 
corresponds,  especially  by  the  parents  and  the  family,  without  any 
variation  from  it,  either  in  reality  pr  appearance  ;  that  all  seeming 
departures  from  it  should  be  carefully  explained  to  him  ;  and  that 
.  he  should  be  obliged  to  fulfil  all  his  promises,  if  not  unlawful, 
however  inconvenient  the  fulfilment.may  be  to  the  parents,  or  to 
iiim* 

Justice^  by  which  I  intend  Commutative  Justice,  is  a  kindred  vir- 
tue to  truths  and  should  be  tausht.  from  the  same  period,  with  the 
same  care.  Every  child  should  be  taught  to  pay  all  his  debtA  was^ 
fulfil  all  his  contracts,  exactly  in  the  manner,  completely  in  tlio 
value,  and  punctually  at  the  time.  Every  child  should  be  discour- 
aged from  tnc  propensity  to  make  bargains  ;  so  eariy,  so  strong- 
ly, and  so  universally,  visible.  He  snoiild  be  discouraged,  also, 
mm  every  wish  to  make  what  is  called  a  good  bargain  /  the  com- 
mon source  of  all  cheating ;  and  should  be  taught,  that  he  is 
bound  to  render  an  equivalent  for  what  he  receives.  Every  bar- 
gain, disadvantageous  to  himself,  he  should  be  bound  scrupulous- 
ly to  fulfil.  Every  thine,  which  he  has  borrowed,  he  should  be 
obliged  to  return,  uninjured,  at  the  time :  and  every  thing  be- 
longing to  others,  which  he  has  lost,  he  should  be  required  to 
replace.  In  this  manner  he  will  grow  up  to  that  sense  of  justice, 
without  which  it  is  impossible  for  virtue  to  exist. 

Morality,  begun  in  truth,  and  advanced  in  justice,  is  finished  in 
Kindness.  The  minds  of  children  may  be  easily  rendered  kind 
by  a  wise  cultivation  ;  and  by  the  want  of  it  will  easily  become 
unfeeling  and  cruel.  Children  should  be  taught,  the  first  moment 
they  are  capable  of  being  taught,  a  lively  tenderness  for  the  feel- 
ings, the  sufferings,  and  the  happiness,  of  all  beings,  with  whom 
they  are  conversant.  The  Emperor  Domitian  has  proved,  thql 
cruelty,  when  it  cannot  satiate  itsislf  on  human  misery,  can  be 
gratified  even  with  the  death  of  flies.  Every  child  should  be  in-  • 
variably  instructed  to  exercise  kindness  towards  animals,  and  to 
shun  cruelty  even  to  an  insect.  The  plundering  of  birds'  nests, 
and  the  capture  of  their  young,  is  in  all  ordinary  cases,  notwith- 
standing it  is  so  generally  allowed,  an  employment,  fitted  only  to 
harden  the  heart,  and  prepare  it  to  be  insensible  to  human  sufler- 
ings.  Still  worse  is  the  deplorable  practice,  extensively  allowed 
also,  of  setting  up  poultry  as  a  mark,  to  be  destroyetl  by  gradual 
torture.  Worse  still  is  tne  practice,  so  widely  ana  shamefully  ex- 
tended in  some  parts  of  this  country,  of  cock-fighting;  abomina- 


S04, 


DDTT  OF  PAREKT3. 


bic  Tnr  il^  rnielty,  and  dcfeelablc  for  Its  fraud.     Children  should 
never  injure  animals  wiibouL  reproof  solemnly  adminisiered,  nor, 
I  as  Ihe  case  may  be,  wiihoul  punishment.     All  their  unkindness  to 

1  each  other,  and  alt  the  unkindness  of  others  which  falls  wilhin 

■^  their  knowledge,  should  bo  strongly  and  unconditionally  repro- 

bated. At  the  same  time,  every  instance  of  ihcir  spontaneous 
tenderness,  and  beneficence,  should  be  strongly  commended  ;  and, 
as  prudence  may  direct,  followed  by  suitable  rewaras ;  whiio 
every  instance  of  cruelty  should  be  treated  with  efficacious  dis- 
countenance, and  strenuous  opposition ;  and  should  be  seen  (o 
awaken  in  the  mind  of  the  parent  detestation  and  horror.  Among 
the  exercises  of  kindness,  which  are  of  prime  importance,  one  ol 
M  the  most  difficult  to  learn  is  tbe  forgiveness  of  injuries.     On  this 

r  account  it  should  be  taught  early,  unceasingly,  and  strenuously, 

f  with  powerful  persuasion,  and  distinguishing  rewards.     An  unfor- 

giving and  revengeful  spirit,  on  the  contrary,  should,  however 
diCicuU  and  discouraging  (he  task,  be  ai  all  events  broken  down ; 
and  no  attempt  should  be  omitted,  until  this  work  ts  cH'ccluaJly 
aaComplished. 

3.  Self-Governmenl. 
^  Children  should.' from  Ike  ' '■;""■! "iVig,  bt  taught  to  be  mduti 

f  The  value  of  tiiT!-  shoulii  L    .  .|  1  mied  to  ihem,  as  the  m^ 

all  usefulness  ainl  enjoyment,  of  duty  and  salvation.  Tcj 
them  to  employ  it  in  the  best  manner,  they  should  be  ( 
customed  to  methodize  it  by  useful  divisions;  allotting f  ^ 
one  period  to  devotion,  another  to  business,  and  anotner^to  r**  * 
creation.  Their  business,  also,  should  be  mcihotlized  by  s^bo^ 
dinate  divisions  :  one  period  being  regularly  destined  to  one  em- 
ployment, and  another  to  another.  In  this  manner  they  will  soon 
see,  thnt  far  more  can  be  accomplished,  than  by  loose  and  desul' 
tory  eiibrts.  industry,  naturally  disagreeable,  may  be  rend 
^  pleasing  by  address  and  habituation,  advi(.'e  and  example.     4 

this  is  the  fountain,  under  God,  of  all  human  attainments,  ande^ 
joymenis;  no  wceitions  should  be  leTl  untried  to  establish  it,  at,*! 
very  early  t^t'^  in  the  minds  of  children.  jL 

Upon  Industry,  in  his  child,  every  parent  should  grafi  EconorMi. 
Jo  economy,  the  human  mind  is  more  reluctant,  than  even  to  in* 
dustry.  In  order  lo  relish  it,  two  great  difficulties  must  be  ovei^ 
came.  One  Is  the  powerful  relish  for  the  graiificalions,  which  oc- 
casion our  expense.  The  other  is  the  constant,  laborious  atten- 
tion, so  necessary  to  the  practice  of  that  br.uich  of  economy  whicf 
is  employed  in  preserving  the  various  kinds  of  property.  "^ 
latter  of  these  is  usually  the  greater  difficulty  ;  but  may,  as  ..-^, 
as  the  other,  be  overcome  by  long-continued,  prudent,  and  unrt^  a 
milted  exertion.  \ 

Thf  children  of  the  honest  and  industrious  poor,  and  of  persoiis  I 
in  midorale  circumstances,  arc  usually  taught  economy  from  ne?  f 
Qcssiiy  ;  in  moat  instances,  however,  not  so  thoroughly,  and  haj^  f 


SKR.  CH.]  DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  gOj 

pUy,  as  ought  to  be  wished.  The  children  of  opulent  parents, 
anu  of  the  idle  poor,  arc,  to  a  great  estcnl.,  sadly  neglected,  as  10 
this  necessary  pari  of  ihcir  education.  The  cotisciju^nce  is,  that 
the  children  of  ihe  one  arc  kept  poor,  and  the  children  of  the 
other  frecjuently  reduced  to  poverty.  Economy  is  at  least  as  nev 
.  cessary  lo  nrospcrily,  even  in  a  moderate  degree,  as  Industry  iU 
self.  Equally  necessary  is  it  to  furnish  us  the  power  oC  doing  justice  , 
to  others  ;  safely  from  temptations  to  fraud,  falsehood,  and  innu- 
merable other  evils;  support  in  sickness,  and  old  age;  the  educa- 
tion, and  comfortable  settlement,  of  our  families ;  and  a  host  of 
other  blessings.  It  is,  therefore,  an  indispensable  duly;  apd  is 
made  such  by  the  example,  and  precept,  of.our  Saviour.  When  he 
had  fed  a  mullllude  by  a  creative  act  of  his  own,  he  directed  bis 
disciples  10  galkfr  tip  tht  fragments,  ihal  nolh'tng  might  be  hit. 
What  was  their  duty,  in  such  a  case,  is  certainly  the  duly  of  all 
men,  in  all  cases :  and,  however  it  may  be  despised  by  the  proud, 
and  the  prodigal,  or  however  forgotten  by  the  thoughtless,  will  be 
found  of  incalculable  importance  to  iheir  children. 

At  the  same  time,  they  should  be  carefully  guarded  against  alt 
tendencies  to  coveiousness,  and  to  every  other  exercise  of  a  mean 
MS  narrow  mind.  Economy  furnishes  us  with  the  ability  to  per* 
qpil^geiierousacls.  Meanness  prevents  their  existence;  and  de- 
stEpVS  the  spirit,  from  which  they  spring.  Meanness,  also,  roots 
up,  in  whatever  form  it  may  esist,  all  the  tendencies  to  virtue  ; 
every  stem,  pn  which  it  may  be  hopefully  grafted. 

Another,  thing,  which  ought  to  be  cultivated  with  great  care  in 
the  early  minds  of  children,  and  which  may  be  properly  ranged 
under  this  head,  is  Me  exercise  of  the  Gentle  afftctiona.  Violent 
affections  seem  to  be  the  chief  preventives  of  virtue,  and  its  chief 
enemies.  Gentle  atfeclions  are  the  best  preparation  for  it;  and  the 
best  friends  to  it,  which  are  furnished  by  human  nature.  All  the 
affections  of  virtue  are  ordinarily  gentle  ;  the  most  amiable  ones  al- 
ssys.  This  is  probably  one  powerful  reason,  why  so  many  more 
Christians  are  usually  found  in  the  female  sex,  thaa'^fn  ours ;  viz. 
that  the  softness  and  sweetness  of  thtHraifeclions  naturally  coincide 
■with  religious  jmpressions  ;  while  the  violence  of  ours  naturally 
Raist  them.  Children  should  regularly  be  checked,  and  subdued,  in 
every  ebullition  of  passion  ;  particularly  of  pride  and  anger.  Nor 
should  they  be  less  carefully  opposed  in  ihc  more  unobserved  pro- 
gress of  avarice  and  ambtlion.  The  mischiefs  of  these,  and  of  all 
other  inordinate  passions,  are  known,  and  acknowledged,  by  all 
men.  !t  will  be  only  necessary  to  remark  concerning  them  here, 
that,  while  they  continue  id  full  sircnf;th,  they  absolutely  forbid  all 
access  of  Religion,  and  fix  the  mind  in  immoveable  hostility  to  the 
divine  pleasure.  He,  who  wishes  his  children  to  become  the  sub- 
jects of  piety,  should  make  it  a  jirime  object  in  their  education,  lo 
check  all  their  inordinate  passions  with  an  etficacy  of  resistance, 
proportioned  to  the  demands  of  each  case ;  and  should,  with  equal 
Vol.  III.  39 


i 


306 


DUTY  OF  PARENTS. 


[SER  CXI. 


jnxifii'.  icaoh  ihem  to  check,  restrain,  anJ  subdue,  ihcnisclvcs, 
^ai).i!fy,  jhls  work  may  in  cfirly  ctuIdilvH.J  be  easily  dour ;  but 
unh»|<|<ily  is  Looofirn  nrgleclcH.  The  pa^sloasin  ihc  niind,  like 
Vecil-  m  a  garden,  Bufficieully  lender  and  feeble  ai  first,  i 
sti'CJu'ilieh  tneoiselvcs  to  such  a  degree  by  rankness  of  gro 
that    I"   subdue  ihem  beconies  difGcuIt,  If  nol  Impossible. 

Eersfiii   have,  then, fltiHIclciii  resolution  to  undenakc the  lask; : 
av  •iillicieiit  [jcrseveryiite  lo  cxcculc  ll.  When  begua  in  seas* 
r'  it  is  (ir.*inarily  atle:idcd  with  Utile  ditKcully. 

Gertie  aRecliotis  should  be  eMAUT^ged  m  children!)]' all  tl 
inea>i,-i  tn  our  power.  They  sbotiH  coftslamly  iviiness  them  in  i 
Theftx-'irise  of  them,  in  lliemsclves,  should  from  lime  to  lime  1 
comyi' ■iided;  the  amiaMeness  of  them  explained,  and  enforc 
Com:i;iiiion3,  pos?'?3sed  of  such  affections, sbould  be  selecicd  1 
thcnn,  and  books,  containing  persuasive  examples,  and  illtuUI 
*, ,  tion>^-  ■-'I  (his  character,  Itould  be  put  inlo  tlicir  hands. 

1/1  "Miely  coniiecled  with  this  subject  is  CiviUly  and  Sairlnt 
of  m  iiitri.  Lord  C/icj[ei/cW  justly  ol»erres,  that  such  o 
are  >  ncctly  required  by  our  Siiviour's  pUftctical  csposilion  of  ti 
secoi.'' ..reat  Confloaiid  of  the  moi-al  law:  Tliat  we  should  do  \ 
olhc  '  irhalfontfttiviould  t/iat  ibty  abfuld  do  lous.  All  men  l( 
to  br  /n'Cfet/ with  civility ;  and  are  bdund,  therefore,  by  the  1 
of  G  "1,  to  eshibil  sucn  Ireaimcnt  to  others.  The  Chinese  pr»-' 
vertj'  ifj',  and  justly,  observe  that  a  man  without  civility  is  a  man 
withi  :,i  common  sense.  Such  manners  are  the  proper  pohsb  of 
that  i.i'isi  beautiful  of  all  diamonds,  Virtue;  and  enable  it  to 
ahlne  with  lis  own  peculiar  lustre.  They  render  the  cbaracier 
lovelv  ;  increase  exceedingly  ihe  power  of  those  who  possess 
thciri^  lO  do  good  ;  and  secure  lo  tncm  a  thousand  kind  offices, 
to, vMs..  coarse,  rough,  and  brutal  men  are  utterly  strangers. 
CIiil(wt),  in  order  to  be  taught  such  manjiers,  be^des  being  paN  •■ 
ticuLifly  instruct(^d  in  their  natlMPe,  should,  especially,  be  accus-  " 
tome  I  (1  the  company  of  those.ibom  whom  they  may  be  success- 
fiillv  '  "picd. 

Tim  ic  ia.jqarcely  a  fault,  to  which  childri^n  arc  prone,  which  is 
mon-  'l.iBcuK  to  be  prciented,  than  ihe  Imprudence  <^  the  Tongw 
Pa'-.:  ■     prompts  ihem  to  expressions  of  rashness  Tind  violencjj 
ex.111  .  '.'',  to  profanencsa ;  the  love  of  being  Mstened  to,  to  ihe 
tr,i_\u  ^  of  uerets,  the  telling  of  marvellous  si'ories,  the  rccilatiofl 
of  jir.iiie  Mfi)j>ry,  and  the  utterance  of  slander.     In  these  ai 
other  =inrlar*liys  they  often  wound  their  own  character,  and  ^ 
•  peaci    'loth  of  tocmselvcs  and  their  connexions.     Every  atle 
of  ev  ry   such  kind  ought  to  be  repelled  at  once,  and  elTectu) 
erosJj.  '.      Neglect,  here,    Is  countenance  ^    inaltonlion,  encoid 
ageii'    It.      Whal.  then,  shall  be  said    of  parcnW,  who  directljj 
lisic],  o  their  children,  while  thus  employed;  and  in  this  manW 
BOliciVlbeDi  lo  transgr^jsj     Few  evils  need  to  be  more  sti     '" 
watBH^dj'or  mor^OTrfiffjjajIy  resisted,  than  Uiis.     A  prude t 


DUTY  OB  PABENT?. 

wpll-^ncrned.  tongue  is  aninvnluiible  posspssion  ;  whclher  we 
roiisf'l'i-  the  peace  of  ihe  possessor,  ihpcimiforl  of  his  family,  or 
the  /|ii  ■■liipaftof  his  neighbourhood.  W  biKif-bod}/  m  o/At  nun's 
insert  is  classed  by  Si.  Pettr  with  murderita,  lliitvM,  and  male- 

Un  ■-  r>;illy,  children  shottid be  gttarded,  and  laiiftht  lo  guard 
kttm  ■'  i  1,  n'llk  lltetUnosi  lart,  a^auisl  Icinplationt.  Tiicy  -siiouid 
"he  cnjiifincci  not  to  go,  mid  rcsiriincd  from  goiiii;,  lo  places  of 
evil  rcttirt*  Tlicy  should  be  anxiously  pieventcd  from  ihe compa- 
ny ot  tfw^fld  children ;  andfiu^ch  ;is  may  be,  fnim  that  of  all 
oihcr  persons,  from  whom  ibtr^iriU  hear  dangerous  seniimciits,  or 
who  will  set  before  them  dangetous  conduct.  Tbey  should  also 
be  never  brought,  when  it  can  be  avoided,  into  contact  with  dan- 
gerous und  fascinating  objects.  From  such  objects  indeed,  and 
from  such  company,  they  cannot  be  entirely  secluded,  in  such  a 
world  us  this.  By  watchful  and  faithful  ifiarents,  bowfiv^'much 
toay  be  done :  it  is  impossible  to  say  how  much  :  bal  probably  so 
much,  Ks,  in  ordinary  cases  at  least,  perhaps  in  al),  lo  aCCure  (he 
child  from  the  evil,  to  i^ch  be  is  exposed.  One  impoHant  mean 
of  security,  never  to  be  forgolten,  is  an  early,  strong,  and  habitual 
impression  of  their  exposure  lo  temptation,  accotoipanicd  by  ex- 
plicit iirid  thorough  iulonnafion  of  the  evils,  which  will  certainly 
result  from  yielding  to  its  influence.  This  will  prove  a  safeguara 
to  ihc  child,  when  the  parent  cannot  be  present,  to  warn  hmi  of 

b  tia  dani'cr. 

f  It  win  be  remembered,  that  I  originally  proposed  to  mention 
apart  only  of  those  things,  which  are  lo  be  taught  lo  children. 
Those,  which  have  been  mentioned,  are,  if  i  mistake  not,  pos- 
sesscrl  of  distinguished  importance;  and  will,  1  suppose,  be  ac- 
knowledged lo  claim  a  primary  place  in  parental  instruction.     I 

I  shall  MOW  proceed  to  consider  Ihe  Manner,  m  loAic/i  thei/  should  be 

t   taught, 

1,   Tlie  Instruction  of  Chiidrm  should  be  begun  in  -ce.ry  Early 

Hf,. 

Very  young  children  are  capable  of  learning  matiy  things  of 
_incalcubble  importance  to  themselves.  All  parents  appear  to  aie 
vto  labuur  under  serious  mistakes  with  regard  to  this  subject ;  and 
begin  to  teach  their  children  many  things,  al  least,  at  a  later  pcii- 
od  dian  that  ia  which  l^r^y  would  advantageously  begin  1«  rcceivtt 
ibcm.  The  infant  mind  opens  faster,  than  we  are  apt  10  be  aware. 
ThJ4  is  the  troe  reason,  why  very  young  children  are  almost  al- 
i>lln4hought  peculiarly  bright  and  promisit.^.  We  customarily 
attnbnie  this  opinion  to  parental  fondneES ;  in  Gome  degree  per- 
haps, jiisily ;  but  it  arises  extensively  from  the  feci,  that  the  intel- 
lect of  iittle  children  outruns  in  its  progress  our  utmost  expecta- 
tions: the  goodness  of  God  intending,  1  suppose,  to  provvde  by 
this  constitution  of  things  the  means  of  receiving  the  insifvctlnn,  so 
itidispciisable  to  cliildren  at  diat  period.     Of  Uiis  advuiUage  every 


i 

1 

{ 


;houId 
siong.  J 

;r  w 
ssed, 
thai  _ 

mai^H 


DUTT   OF  BARE>rrS.  [SER.  C 

parent  -hoiilJ  carefully  avail  himself.     At  the  same  lime  he  should 
rememl)cr,  thai  this  is  the  season  foriHaking  lasting  impressloag.. 
The  irilaru  mitid  lays  strong  hold  of  every  thing,  which  it  is 
I  Bolh  iti  understanoing  aiicfaflcctions  arc  then  unoccupied, 

i^  atfeciioiis  are  then,  also,  remarkably  susceptible,  tender,  and     ^ 

orous.     Every  person  knows  the  peculiarly  impressive  power  i^ 
novelty.     On  iheinfanl  mind  every  thing  is  powerfully  impressed, 
f»  ■  because  every  thing  is  new.     From  ihese  causes  is  derived  thal^ 

remarkable  fact,  so  commonly  observed,  that  early  impressions '" 
fluenCf  llie  character  and  the  life  beyond  all  others  ;  and  rem: 
strong  and  vivid,  after  most  others  are  worn  away. 

From  these  remarks  must  be  seen,  with  irresistible  evidence,  ibe 
immense  importance  of  seizing  this  happy  period,'  to  make  reli- 
k  gious  iinpi-essiona  on  ihe  minds  of  our  offspring.     He,  who  lose* 

this  season,  is  a  husbandman,  who  wastes  the  spring  in  idleness, 
f  and  soivs  in  midsummer.     How  can  such  a  man  rationally  ex] 

a  crop ,'     To  the  eflbrts  of  the  parent,  at  this  period,  the  profe: 
Inslrucier  is  bound  to  add  his  own.    The  luslructer,  who  in 
school,  a  college,  or  an  university,  does  not  employ  the  opporl 
A  ties,  wliich  he  enjoys,  of  making  religioas  impressions  on  ihe'm 

L  of  his  pupils,  neglects  a  prime  part  of  bis  duty  ;  and  so  far  wraj 

m  his  tali':it  in  a  napkin,  and  buries  it  in  the  earth. 

2.  Children  should  be  Gradually  instrucled. 
Knowledge  plainly  should  be  communicated  in  that  progressii 
course,  m  which  the  mind  is  most  capable  of  receivinj,  it.     Tl 
ft  first  tilings  which  children  attain,  are  words,  and  facts.     To  th( 

m  succeed,  after  no  great  interval,  plain  doctrines,  and  precepts, 

r  they  advance  in  years  and  understanding,  ihey  gradually  coinj .  _ 

i  hend,  and  therefore  reUsh,  doctrines  of  a  more  complicated  and 

difficuk  nature.     This  order  of  things,  being  inwrought  in  the  con- 
J  stitution  of  the  hunian  mind,  should  be  exactly  followed.     When 

it  is  counteracted,  «■  forgotten,  thplaskof  instruction  will  everbc 
^  difficult;  and  the  progress  of  the  pupil  slow  and  discouraging.  '  « 

A  Ioosl'  and  general  attention  to  this  great  rule  of  instruction  seen*  ^| 
^       to  have  prevailed  in  most  enlightened  countries,  but  a  far  less  a&-jfl 
•  cii|ate  nne,  than  its  importance  deserves.  "^   ■ 

*  Among  the  facts  and  doctrines,  suited  to  the  early  mind,  none 

are  imbil)ed  with  more  readiness,  or  fastened  upon  with  more 
I  atrengtii,  than  the  existence,  presence,  perfection,  and  providence, 

1^  of  Goi ;  the  Creation  of  all  things  by  his  power ;  its  own  accounU 

Iabjenpss  to  him ;  and  the  immense  importance  of  his  favour,  i 
therefore,  of  acting  in  such  a  manner  as  to  obtain  his  approbal 
H  These  ihings,  then,  together  with  such  as  are  inseparably  com 

■  ed  with  them,should,  without  fail,  be  always  taughlat  tliedav 

theurnK'rstanding. 

t3.   The  imprtisions,  which  are  useful  to  children,  should  be 
ContimaUy. 


■». CXJ]  DUTT  OP  VARSNT3.  ]^^  '■ 

Children,  morelhan  any  other  persons,  naed  ^'ne  vpim  line,  and 
rteept  upon  precept;  here  a  little,  and  there  a  litUt.  ll  js  in  ao 
Eiise  sulBcient  lo  oave  laoght  them  either. Iniths,  or  dulics.  The 
weal's  duty  is,  tlun,  only  begun.  He  is  not  only  lo  leach,  but  lo 
^Icate  ;  to  recall  what  has  been  forgolten;  lo  explain  what  laas 
een  imperfectly  apprehended ;  to  rectify  what  liae  been  misun- 
erstood,  to  illustrate  what  has  been  obscure  ;  and  to  enforce  what 
as  been  unfelt.  A  few  minds  are,  indeed,  so  happily  susceptible, 
s  readily  !o  understand,  deeply  to  feel,  and  pennanenilylo retain, 
lost  of  thai,  which  they  are  taught.  But  such  raiads  are  rare, end 
iklitary.     Almost  all  children  demand,  and  ought  to  receive,  in-  ' 

truction  in  the  manner  here  recommended. 

4<  InMlructittn  should  be  communicated  lo  children,  tcilh  unaatried  *^ 

alienee,  ] 

'Christ,  in  this  and  many  other  respects,  has  left  Instruclcrs  a  , 

erfect  example.     Although  his  disciples  wendtiUof  hearing,  and  I 

low  of  heart  to  believe;  although  they  had  many,  and  those  often 
ery  unreasonable,  prejudices;  his  patience  was  never  lessened. 
[e  taught  ihem  in  the  gradual  manner,  which  I  have  recommended;  | 

I,  in  his  own  language,  ihey  were  able  to  bear.  JIc  taught  ihem, 
Iso,  without  weariness,  without  frelfulness,  without  discourage-  ^ 

lent,  withoU  reproaches,  and  without  intermission.     At  times,  in-  I 

leed,  he  reproved  ihem,  and  with  some  degree  of  severity ;  but 
Iways  with  tenderness  and  good-will. 

In  this  manner  should  parents  k-ach  their  children ;  should  be 
latieiit  wiih  iheir  ignorance,  their  backwardness  lo  receive  instruc- 
ioQ,  their  mistakes,  their  Jbrgcifulncss,  the  necessty  of  icacbing 
bem  again  and  again,  and  the  doubts  and  dillicullies,  which  from 
ime  lo  lime  they  suggest.  In  all  this,  the  parents  should  manifest 
ot  only  (juictness  of  mind,  but  cheerfulness,  and  wilUngncss  to 
epeat  their  instructions. 
5.  fnslruclions  ihoidd  be  given  Persim»ivthf, 
Children  are  often  discouraged  from  learning  by  being  compel- 
•d  to  this  employment,  and  punished  for  not  learning;  by  the 
looiny  countenance,  morose  temper,  and  forbidding  manners,  of 
le  Instrucler  ;  by  being  unreasonably  confined,  and  unreasonably 
ebarrcd  from  those  harmless  gratifications,  which  are  necessary 
>  preserve  their  health  and  spirits;  and  not  unfrcquenlty  by  the 
nposiiion  of  harder  tasks,  than  they  are  able  lo  perform.  If  I 
ipposed  such  persons  to  act  understandingly ;  I  should  believe, 
lat  ihey  intended  to  prevent  children  from  learning ;  and  that 
leir  measures  were  skilfully  contrived  for  this  purpose.  But  to 
le  end,  for  which  they  are  professedly  adopted,  they  coidd  scarcely 
c  fitted  in  a  more  unhappy  manner. 

To  most  children  learning  may  be  made  an  alluring  objocL 
leasantness  of  disposition,  aHabilily,  condescension,  serenity  of 
mntenance,  and  sweetness  of  manners,  in  the  Inslructer  ;  cngag- 
g  books,  moderate  tasks,  reasonable  confinement  to  study,  a 


310  vapc  OF  pabeMts.  [ser.  en' 

rfxroper' allowance  of  ||fitreation,  commendation  kindly  given  when 
men  ted,  and  well-ditlbcted  rewards  for  improvement  ^  are  usually 
sufficient  persuasives  to  engage  children  in  a  spontaneous  ana 

f)leasurabie  course  of  learning.     THe  Instructer,  who  will  not  (bl- 
ow this  course,  must  be  very  imperfectly  fitted  for  his  employment 
6m'  Children  should  be  taught  by  Example. 
Ally  men  will  admh^^'that  the  moral  branches  of  education  can 
never  be  taught  successfully  without  the  aid  of  Example.     Exam- 
ple has,  in  a  ^eal^oneasure,  the  same  influence  on  every  othef 
part  of  education.     Children  do  little^  beside  imitating  others.     Pa- 


'"qoence  in  this  important  concern. 

7.  Children  should  be  taught  in  such  a  manneryas  to  be  prompted 
unceasingly  to  the  most  vigorous  exertion  of  their  own  talents. 
.  The  human  mind  is  not  a  mere  vessel,  into  which  knowledge 
is  to  be  poured.  It  is  better  compared  to  a  bee,  fed  during  toe 
first  periods  of  its  existence  by  the  labours  of  others ;  but  intend- 
ed, ere  long,  to  lift  its  wings  in  the  active  employment  of  collecting 
sweets  from  every  field  within  its  reach*  To  such  excursions,  and 
to  the  accomplishment  of  such  purposes,  the  mind  sht^ld  be  early 
and  sedulously  allured.  This  is  the  only  way  to  give  it  energy 
and  strength.  Without  the  active  exercise  of  its  powers,  neither 
body,  nor  mind,  can  acquire,  vieour.  Without  bodily  exertions, 
Qoltathy  six  cubits  high,  would  nave  been,  only  a  gigantic  boy: 
without  mental  eflbrts,  Newton  would  have  been  merely  an  inftad 
tf  days. 


» 


• 

* 

■•:*■ 

•                                                                                                                                                                                     •                 ■ 

■>• 

• 

SKRMQN    CXn. 

• 

• 

FIFTH  COMMANDMENT. DVTY   OF    PARENTS. 

1 

• 
■ 

Proyebbs.  xxii.  6.— TVoin  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  thquld  go  ;  a$id  w/icn  he'isMki 

will  rwl  depart  from  it.        ^ 

IN  the  preceding  discourse,  I  distributed  the  duties  of  pareoti^ - 

under  three  heads :  ^  ]^TJ ' 

:  The  Maintenance^  '-i^ti- 

The  Education^  and  **" ' 

The  Settlement^  of  Children. 

The  Education  of  Children  I  [Nrojx)sed  also  to  consider  under 
the  two  heads  of 

Instruction^  and 

Government. 

The  first  of  these  general  heads,  together  with  the  former  divis- 
ioD  of  the  second,  were  examined  in  that  discourse.  I  shall  now 
proceed  to  make  some  observations  on  the  remaining  subjects  pro- 
posed for  discussion  at  that  time. 

The  Parental  Duty,  which,  according  to  the  plan  mentioned^ 
next  demands  our  attention,  is  Me  Government  of  Children*  The 
observations,  which  I  shall  make  concerning  this  subject,  will 
respect, 

The  Nature, 

The  End,  and, 

The  Importance  of  this  Government ;  and. 

The  Manner,  in  which  it  is  to  be  administered.  • 

Concerning  the  Nature  of  Parental  Government,  its  End,  and  iU 
Importance,  my  observations  must  be  very  summary. 

The  Nature  of  all  government  is  justly  defined  to  be  the  control 
of  one  being  over  the  actions  of  another.  This  control  in  the 
hands  of  parents  over  their  children  \s  at  once  the  most  absolute, 
perhaps,  and  clearly  the  most  gentl6  and  indulgent,  dominion,  . 
which  is  exercised  by  mankind.  The  parentis  will  is  the  only 
law  to  the  child;  yet,  being  steadily  regulated  by  parental  affec- 
tion, is  probably  more  moaerate,  equitable,  and  pleasing  to  hiSi, 
than  any  other  human  government  to  any  other  subject.  It  Ire- 
sembles  the  divine  government  more  in  its  nature,  anc^  when  wise^ 
ly  administered,  in  its  eflScacy,  than  any  other.  Correction,  som&p 
times  esteemed  the  whole  of  it,  is  usually  the  leastp^ :  a  part, 
indispensable  indeed,  and  sometimes  efiicacious,  ^mjfk  all  others 
have  failed.  Beside  correction  it  includes  advice,  cqAmendation, 
blame,  reproof,  rebuke,  admonition,  expostulation,  influence,  re* 


812  I>UTT  OF  PARENTS.  [S£R.  GUI 

Btraint,  confinement,  rewards,  the  deprivation  of  enjoyments,  the 
infliction  of  disgrace,  the  denial  of  favour,  and  various  other  things : 
each  possessing  peculiar  efficacy ;  and  all  of  them  efficacious,  not 
only  m  themselves,  but  also  by  the  variety  of  administration,  which 
they  furnish,  and  the  relative  power,  which  they  derive  merely 
from  the  fact  of  succeeding  each  other. 

The  End  of  parental  govemmerU  is  undoubtedly  the  good  of  cAt/- 
*dren.  The  end  of  all  government  is  the  good  of  the  governed. 
Children  are  given  to  parents,  not  to  be  a  convenience  to  ihemj 
but  that  they  may  become  blessings  to  the  children.  In  this  way, 
and  ordinarily  in  this  alone,  will  the  children  become  blessings  to 
t)ie  parents.  Every  parent  should  fix  in  his  mind  a  strong,  habit- 
ual sense  of  this  end.  The  good,  to  be  accomplished  for  the  child, 
should  be  the  object  of  inquiry  in  every  administration  of  this  na- 
ture. The  kind,  the  degree,  and  the  continuance,  of  the  punish- 
ment, and  the  reward,  should  be  all  determined  by  it.  In  a  word, 
it  should  absolutely  govern  ^11  the  conduct  of  the  parent  towards 
the  child. 

The  importance  of  parental  government  will  demand  very  few 
remarks;  since  no  man  will  question  it  in  earnest.  Every  parent 
ought  to  remember,  that  hiscnildis  committed  to  Atm;  that  all  his 
interests  are  put  into  his  hands;  and  that  to  train  up  his  family  for 
usefulness,  and  for  heaven,  is  ordinarily  the  chief  duty,  which  God 
requires  him  to  perform;  the  chief  good,  which  he  can  ever  accom- 

f^lish.     If  he  neglects  this  duty  ;  he  ought  to  expect  that  it  will  be 
eft  undone  :  for  no  other  person  will  usually  undertake  it.     If  Ae 
does  not  accomplish  this  ffood ;  he  ought  to  believe,  that  it  will 
never  be  accomplished.,  v^n  the  contrary,  the  child  will  be  left  to 
himself;  to  evil  companions  ;  to  men,  whose  business  it  is  to  cor- 
rupt the  young ;  to  unbridled  lusts ;  to  unrestrained  iniquity ;  to 
Satan,  and  to  ruin.     He  ought  also  to  remember,  that  childhood, 
is  the  seed-time  for  all  good  ;  the  season,  when  every  useful  im- 
pression is  most  happily  made ;  the  time,  when  almost  all  that, 
which  can  be  done  for  the  child,  is  to  be  done.     He  should  remem- 
ber, that   the   encouragement  is  very  great.     Experience  abun- 
dantly proves,  that  well  governed  children  are  almost  always  well 
behaved;  and  that  almost  all  religious  persons  are  of  this  num- 
ber.    What  experience  declares,  the  Scriptures  ratify.     The  text, 
if  not  an  absolute  promise,  is  yet  a  glorious  encouragement  to  this 
parental  duty.     In  the  mean  lime,  tne  peace  and  pleasantness  of 
nis  family ;  the  filial  piety,  amiable  conauct,  and  fair  reputation,  of 
his  children  ;  furnish  a  rich  hope,  that  he  will  in  the  end  assemble 
around  him  his  little  flock,  and  be  able  to  say  with  exuluition  and 
transport,  Behold^  here  am  /,  and  the  children^  whom  thou  hast 
given  me. 

The  Manner  inwhichparental government  ought  to  be  administered^ 
demands  a  more  extensive  consideration. 


8XR.  CXII.]  DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  31 3 

The  observations  which  I  propose  to  make  concerning  it,  I  shall' 
arrange  under  the  following  heads. 

1  •   The  Government  of  Children  should  begin  with  the  d^n  of 
their  reason. 

I  have  already  applied  this  observation  to  parental  Instruciion:' 
It  is  stUl.more  forcibly  applicable  io  parental  government.  The 
habit  of  submission  can  never  be  eiiectuated  without  difficulty, 
unless  commenced  at  the  beginning.  The  first  direction  of  the 
infant  mind  has  been  often,  and  justly,  compared  to  the  first  figure, 
assumed  by  a  twig ;  which  is  ordinarily  its  figure  during  every 
subsequent  period  of  its  growth,  if  children  are  taught  effectu- 
ally to  obey  at  first ;  they  will  easily  be  induced  to  obey  ever  af- 
terwards. Almost  all  those,  who  are  disobedient,  are  such  as 
Lave  been  neglected  in  the  beginning.  The  twig  was  suffered 
to  stiffen,  before  an  attempt  was  made  to  bend  it  mto  the  proper 
$bape.  Then  it  resumed,  as  soon  as  the  pressure  ceased,  its 
former  figure.  If  begun  in  season,  the  task  of  securing  filial 
obedience  will  usually  be  easy,  and  the  object  effectually  gained. 
If  then  neglected,  it  will  be  attended  by  a  multitude  of  difficul- 
ties, and  discouragements  ;  and  its  efficacy  will  be  doubtful,  if  not 
finiitless. 

2.  Parental  Government  should  be  administered  with  Constancy. 

The  views  manifested  by  the  parent  concerning  the  conduct  of 
the  child,  should  ever  be  the  same.  His  good  conduct  should  be 
invariably  approved;  his  bad  conduct  invariably  disapproved.  The 
measures  of  the  parent,  also,  should  be,  universally,  of  the  sam^. 
tenour.  All  proper  encouragement  should  be  regularly  holden  out 
to  obedience,  and  all  rational  opposition  be  steadily  made  to  dis- 
obedience. 

The  active  superintendance  of  the  child  should  be  unremitted. 
He  should  feel,  that  he  is  ever  an  object  of  parental  attention  ; 
ever  secure,  when  his  behaviour  ments  it,  of  parental  favour;, 
and  ever  conscious,  that  his  faults  will  expose  him  to  fi*owns  and 
censures.  This  unremitted  consciousness  of  the  child  can  never 
be  produced,  but  by  the  unremitted  care,  and  watchfulness,  of  the 
parent.  The  Roman  maxim,  Obstaprincipiis^  Resist  the  beginnings 
of  evil ;  is  in  all  cases  replete  witn  wisdom ;  but  is  applicable 
to  no  case,  perhaps,  with  such  force,  as  to  those  of  cnildren. 
All  thoir  tenaencles  should  be  watched.  Every  commencement 
of  evil,  every  tendency  towards  it,  should  be  observed,  and  re- 
sisted. 

The  efforts  of  parents  in  this  employment  should,  also,  be  xm" 
wearied.  Discouragement  and  Sloth  are  two  prime  evils  in  the  con* 
duct  of  parerJal  Government.  The  parent,  seeing  so  many,  and 
so  unceasing,  exertions  necessary  for  the  accomplishment  of  his 

Eurpose,  usually  feels,  either  earlier  or  later,  as  if  it  could  never 
e  accomplished  ;  and  hence,  from  mere  discouragement,  at  first 
relaxes,  and  finally  gives  over,  his  endeavours.     Frequently,  also. 
Vol.  111.  40 


9  'V 


314  Tnjrr  of  parents.  [ser.  cxn 

he  becomes,  after  a  moderate  number  of  trials,  wearied  of  a  duty, 
which  he  finds  so  burdensome  ;  and  through  mere  indolence  desists 
from  every  strenuous  attempt  to  discharge  it.  Such  parents  ought 
to  remember,  that  they  are  labouring  for  the  salvation  of  their  chil- 
dren ;  that  this  mighty  object  is  pre-eminentlv  committed  to  them; 
and  that  these  reasons  for  their  negligence  will  be  unhappily  alleged 
at  the  final  day. 

(l  have  elsewhere  compared  the  mind  of  a  child  to  a  rude  mass 
of  silver,  in  the  hand  of  the  silversmith.  A  single  stroke  of  the 
hammer,  a  hundred,  or  even  a  thousand,  change  its  form  in  a  very 
imperfect  degree;  and  advance  it  but  little  towards  the  figure,  and 
beauty,  of  the  vessel  which  is  intended.  Were  he  to  stop,  nothing 
valuable  would  be  acconiplished.  A  patient  continuance  of  these 
seemingly  inefficacious  efi(3rts,  however,  will,  in  the  end,  produce 
the  proposed  vessel  in  its  proper  form,  and  with  the  highest  ele- 
gance and  perfection.  )  With  the  same  patience  and  perseverance 
should  parental  exertions  be  made,  when  employed  in  forming 
the  minds  of  children.  Thus  made,  they  will  usually  find  a  similar 
issue.  ^ 

3.   17ie  government  of  children  should  be  uniformly  Kind. 
Parents  not  unfi^equently  administer  discipline  to  their  children, 
because  they  feel  themselves  obliged  to  it  by  conscience ;  or  to 
gratify  anger ;   or  to  retaliate  some  offence  ;   or  to  compel  their 
children  to  accomplish  some  pleasure  of  their  own.     Whenever 
they  act  under  the  proper  influence  of  conscience,  they  are  certain- 
ly so  far  to  be  commended.     But  whenever  they  intend  merely  to 
unburden  their  consciences,  and  feel,  that  this  is  done  by  merely 
punishing  their  children,   whether  the  punishment  be  wise,  just, 
and  useful,  or  not;  either  their  consciences  must  be  very  ill  in- 
formed, or  they  must  be  very  little  inclined  to  satisfy  their  demands. 
In  the  other  three  cases  the  discipline  is  merely  selfish ;  and  par- 
takes as  little  of  the  true  nature  of  family  government,  as  that  of 
a  den  of  thieves.     There  are  parents,  who  frankly,  biit  foolishly, 
declare,  that  they  cannot  correct  their  children,  unless  when  they 
are  in  a  Passion.     Such  parents  I  should  advise  never  to  correct 
them  at  all.     Children,  even  at  an  early  age,  easily  understand  the 
nature  of  such  government,  and  indeed  almost  always  discern  more 
perfectly  the  nature  of  our  improper  conduct,  than  we  either  wish 
or  suspect.     He,  who  thinks  his  child  incapable  of  undenstanding 
his  open  infirmities,  will  almost  of  course  be  deceived.     The  fijov- 
ernment  of  Passion^  children  will  always  perceive  to  be  ra«iMjless, 
variable,  weak,  and  sinlul.     The  parent,  who  administers  ity  will 
be  dreaded  by  them,  indeed  ;  but  ho  will  only  be  dreaded  in  the 
same  manner,  as  a  wild  beast.    He  will  neither  be  reverenced,  nor 
loved.     His  commands,  so  far  as  they  cannot  be  avoided  without 
danger,  will  be  fc^wed  by  obedience :  so  far  as  they  can,  they 
will  be  neglected.     The  obedience  will  be  a  mere  eye-service  | 
and  never  spring  firom  the  heart.    When  the  parent  is  abseot. 


8EB.  CXIL]  DUTY  OF  PAHENTS.  3I5 

therefore,  the  child  will  pursue  his  own  inclinat^nsf  and  will  gen- 
erally counteract  his  parent's  pleasure,  whenever  his  own  safety 
will  permit.  Such  a  government  prompts  the  wickedness  of  chil- 
dren ten  times,  where  it  restrains  it  once. 

The  government  of  Retaliation  is  the  govemrpent  of  revenge ; 
and,  therefore,  not  the  government  of  a  parent,  but  that  of  an  en- 
emy. In  this  manner  it  will  be  regularly  regarded  by  the  child* 
Accordingly,  he  will,  as  far  as  possible,  prevent  its  effects  by  con- 
cealing his  faults  in  every  way,  which  his  ingenuity,  or  circumstan- 
ces, can  suggest.  In  pursuit  of  this  object,  he  will  practise  every 
trick,  and  fetch,  and  fraud,  which  his  cunning  can  devise ;  and  ul- 
timately utter  every  equivocation,  and  every  direct  falsehood, 
which  the  necessity  of  extricating  himself  may  require.  Nor  will 
it.be  long,  before  he  will  consider  his  parent  as  one  party,  and  him-  . 
self  as  tne  other.  He  will  then  begin  to  retaliate  in  turn.  In  this 
ipanner,  a  controversy  will  be  instituted,  in  which  it  will  be  the 
business  of  each  to  provoke,  and  injure,  the  other.  The  child  will 
not,  indeed,  be  able  to  meet  his  oniagonist  in  the  open  field;  but 
he  will  endeavour  to  supply  this  defect  by  watching  every  op- 
portunity to  do  mischief  secretly,  pnd  by  making  up  in  cunning 
what  he  wants  in  power.  A  species  of  Indian  hostilities  will  thus 
be  carried  on  by  him;  and  frequently  for  such  a  length  of  time,  as 
to  embitter  the  peace  of  the  parent,  and  to  ruin  the  character  of 
the  child. 

The  government,  which  is  employed  merely  in  making  a  child 
.tubstrvient  to  the  Caprice^  and  Convenience,^  of  a  parent^  is  too  ob- 
viously selfish,  and  sordid,  ever  to  be  misunderstood :  and  it  needs 
only  to  be  understood,  to  be  detested.  From  parents,  certainlji^ 
if  from  any  human  beings,  we  look  for  disinterestedness ;  especial- 
ly in  the  management  of  their  children.  But  there  are  parents, 
who  regard  their  children,  as  hard  masters  regard  their  slaves  ^^ 
and  value  them,  only  as  they  hope  to  derive  profit  from  their  la- 
bour, or  convenience  from  their  subserviency  to  their  selfish  wish- 
es. No  words  are  necessary  to  show,  that  such  views,  feelings, 
and  conduct,  are  contradictions  to  the  parental  character,  and 
duties,  alike.  Equally  hostile  are  they  to  the  good  of  the  child; 
and  are  calculated,  only  to  destroy  all  his  tendencies  towards  be- 
coming a  useful  man.  Persons,  who  act  in  either  of  these  modes, 
have  never  set  before  their  eyes  the  true  End  of  parental  govern- 
ment ;  and  have  no  conceptions  of  the  real  nature  of  that  great 
duty,  to  which  they  have  been  called  by  their  Maker.  A  little  at- 
tention to  this  subject  would  convince  them,  that  all  their  govern- 
ment is  to  be  administered  under  the  controlling  influence  of  kind- 
ness only ;  kindness,  directed  solely  to  the  good  of  their  children. 
They  are,  indeed,  to  reprove,  and  to  punish,  them :  but  this  is  to 
be  done  only  for  their  good;  and  never  toiptify  the  resentment, 
nor  to  promote  the  selfish  purposes,  of  tnr  parent.  It  is  to  he 
done,  because  their  faults  are  to  be  repressed,  and  because  these 


3ie  DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  [SER.  CXDL 

are  the  proper  means  of  repressing  them  ;  because  it  is  necessary, 
that  the  children  should  be  sober,  discreet,  virtuous,  and  useful; 
and  because  these  are  the  proper  means  of  preparing  them  to  be- 
come so.  As  such  means,  only,  is  all  discipline  to  be  used.  In 
every  other  view  the  nature  of  discipline  is  subverted.  '  Reproof 
becomes  reproach,  advice  contumely,  and  ccrrection  an  assault. 
Instead  of  rendering  the  child  what  he  ought  to  be,  the  parent  will, 
in  this  way,  destroy  all  the  worth,  which  ne  at  present  possesses; 
and  prevent  that,  which  he  might  acquire. 

Among  the  modes  of  exhibiting  kindness  in  governing  our  chil- 
dren. Calmness  and  Moderation  in  reproving,  and  correcting,  are 
indispensable.  He,  to  whom  this  office  falls,  ought,  more  than  in 
almost  any  other  case,  to  be  in  perfect  possession  of  himself.  Ev- 
ery thing,  which  he  does,  or  says,  ought  to  prove,  ths  t  he  is  so. 
His  countenance  ought  then  to  be  mud ;  his  accent  gentle ;  his 
*  words  free  from  all  unkindness ;  and  his  conduct  such,  as  to  prove, 
that  he  is  compelled  to  this  unwelcome  office  by  duty  only. 

With  this  spirit,  parents  will  naturally  be  led  not  to  govern  their 
children  too  much.  Like  certain  Mohammedans,  \vho  estimate  the 
degree  of  their  devotion  by  the  number  of  prayers,  which  they 
utter,  some  persons  suppose  their  duty  of  governing  their  children 
to  be  performed  meritoriously,  merely  because  they  reprove  and 

Eunish  their  children  very  often ;  and  accordingly  make  it  their 
usiness  to  find  fault  with  them  ivy.n  morning  to  night,  and  to  pun- 
ish them  fr.om  week  to  week.  In  Liiis  way,  both  reproof  and  pun- 
ishment lose  all  their  power ;  and  only  serve  to  case-harden  the 
child  against  his  duty.  Children  are  as  easily  injured  by  too  much 
government,  as  by  too  little.  Children  ought  always  to  be  watdi- 
ed  with  attention  and  tenderness,  but  not  to  be  harassed. 

Another  important  office  of  kindness  is  to  administer  reproof,  and 
punishment.  Privately,     Children  sometimes  commit  their  foults 
before  others,  when  the  parent  is  present ;  and  necessity  may  then 
demand,  that  they  should  be  reproved  on  the  spot,  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  those,  who  witness  the  fault.     Whenever  this  is  not  the 
case,  it  will,  in  almost  every  instance,  be  desirable  to  administer 
the  proper  discipline  in  private.     In  this  case  the  child  will  feel, 
that  his  character  is  saved ;  and  will  be  solicitous,  in  future,  to 
preserve  his  own  character  by  good  conduct.     He  will  feel  also, 
that  he  is  treated  kindly;  ancl  will  be  grateful  for  the  kindness. 
His  mind  will  be  left  free  for  the  undivided  exercise  of  veneration 
for  his  parent.     The  parent  at  the  same  time,  will  enjoy  the  best 
possible  opportunity  for  reproving  him  freely,  largely,  pungently, 
and  solemnly;  without  that  embarrassment,  which  will  necessarily 
arise  from  the  presence  of  others.     In  the  presence  of  others,  the 
child  will  feel  his  pride  wounded,  his  chai^acter  sacrificed,  and 
himself  disgraced ;  and  all  this  without  any  visible  necessitv-     He 
will,  therefore,  be  angry,  stubborn,  pert,  and  not  improbably  dis- 
posed to  repeat  his  former  faults,  ancl  to  perpetrate  others.  These 


r 

S£R.  CXU.]  DUTY  OF  PARENTS.  3I7 

emotions  and  these  designs,  he  will,  not  unnaturally,  disclose  to 
his  companions ;  and  they,  not  less  unnaturally,  will  enhance  and 
encourage  them.  Thus  the  whole  force  of  the  parental  adminis- 
tration will  always  be  weakened,  and  most  frequently  destroyed. 

4.  Tkt  Government  of  Children  should  always  be  accompanied  by 
Proofs  of  its  reasonableness  and  Equity. 

Many  parents  err  through  too  much  indulgence;  and  many 
through  too  little.  Both  extremes  are  unhappy,  as  well  as  unrea- 
sonable. Every  child  ought  clearly  to  see,  that  his  parent's  cen- 
sures are  not  unkind ;  and  that  his  indulgence  is  not  foolish.  To 
this  end,  he  ought  regularly,  and  as  soon  as  his  capacity  will  admit, 
to  be  taught  the  reasons,  on  which  the  conduct  of  his  parent,  from 
time  to  time,  is  founded  :  not  as  a  piece  of  respect  to  him,  which 
he  may  demand ;  but  as  wisely -directed  information,  which  will  be 
eminently  useful  to  both  parent  and  child.  To  the  parent  it  will 
be  useful,  by  establishing  his  character  in  the  eyes  of  his  child,  as 
a  ruler  whose  measures  are  all  originated,  and  directed,  by  solid ^ 
reasons  and  sound  wisdom,  steady  equity  and  unfailing  kindness  : 
as  a  ruler,  whose  government  is  to  be  reverenced,  whose  corn- 
man  is  are  to  be  obeyed,  and  whose  wishes  are  to  be  accorded 
with,  from  their  reasonableness,  as  well  as  their  authority ;  from 
the  benefit,  as  well  as  the  duty,  of  obeying ;  and  from  the  plea- 
sure, universally  experienced  in  conforming  to  the  will  of  such 
a  ruler.  In  this  case  the  parent  is  secured  of  the  obedience  of  the 
child,  when  he  is  absent,  (as  for  the  greater  part  of  the  time  he 
must  necessarily  be,)  no  less  than  when  he  is  present;  and  is  as- 
sured also,  that  his  obedience  will  be  voluntary,  and  exact,  and  on 
both  these  accounts,  delightful.  To  the  child  this  information  will 
be  highly  advantageous,  because  it  will  early  accustom  him  to 
obey  Irom  the  reasonableness  of  obedience  ;  and  will  insensibly 
lead  him  to  examine,  feel,  and  submit  to, ^predominating  reasons; 
lot  only  in  cases  of  filial  duty,  but  in  all  Olhcrs.  Thus  ne  will  ha- 
oitually  grow  up  to  a  general  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  rea- 
son, and  the  representations  of  conscience ;  will  sustain  a  far  more 
elevated  and  desirable  character,  than  a  child  governed  by  mere 
authority ;  and,  when  absent  abroad,  or  arrived  at  the  years  of 
self-direction,  will  be  incomparably  more  safe.  The  family,  in  this 
case,  will  exhibit  the  delightful  spectacle  of  rational  beings,  go- 
verned by  rational  bemgs  ;  and  not  the  humiliating  one  o[  slaves, 
struggling  under  the  domination  of  a  master. 

5.  The  government  of  children  should  be  Self -consistent. 

Every  parent  ought  to  possess  himself  of  a  scheme  of  govern- 
ing his  cnildren,  before  he  commences  the  practice.  In  this 
scheme  the  same  things  should  be  uniformly  aimed  at;  the  same 
things  required  ;  and  the  same  things  prohibited.  The  chamcter 
of  the  parent,  also,  as  displayed  in  the  execution  of  this  scheme, 
should  invariably  be  the  same  ;  and  that  s/iould  be  the  character, 
formed  of  reasouaod  principle  only.    In  all  the  parent's  measures 


i 


318  I>UTY  OF  PAREN1&  [SER.  CXD. 

the  child  should  sec,  uniformly  and  irresistibly,  that  the  parent 
hates  vice  above  all  things,  and  above  all  things  loves  virtae. 
This  hatred  to  vice,  and  love  to  virtue,  ought  to  appear  to  be  in- 
wrought in  the  very  constitution  of  the  parent's  mind ;  to  be  in- 
separable from  his  habitual  views  and  feelings  ;  and  to  be  the  first, 
the  unvarying,  and,  as  far  as  may  be,  the  only,  movements  of  his 
soul,  with  respect  to  these  great  subjects.  Of  course,  all  1ms  con- 
duct ought  to  present  the  unauestionable  proof  which  practice  and 
example  foonish,  that  this  is  his  real  characters 

In  consequence  of  this  consistency,  children  will  unifornily  ex- 
pect the  same  parental  opposition  to  their  faults,  and  tl-e  same 
countenance  to  their  virtuous  conduct.  Few  motives  will  Gj>erate 
more  powerfully,  than  such  expectations,  eitheivto  persuade  them 
to  virtue,  or  to  restrain  them  from  sin.  Fewer  crimes  will,  there- 
fore, be  committed  by  them ;  and  of  course  the  parent  i^ill  have 
fewer  ti'ansgressions  to  reprove,  or  punish.  In  this  maimer,  a 
great  part  of  the  parent's  labour  will  be  prevented ;  and  not  a 
small  part  of  his  pain.  What  remains  to  be  done  will .  be  in- 
comparably more  pleasant.  His  encouragement  to  proceed  will, 
also,  be  unspeakably- greater.  To  see  the  efficacy  ol  our  endeav- 
ours is  the  most  animating  of  all  earthly  inducements  to  continue 
them. 

Besides,  cliildren  will,  in  this  case,  regard  their  parents  with  far 
more  veneration  than  any  other.  Consistency  of  character  is  es- 
sential to  all  dignity.  A  changing  man,  even  when  not  a  laulty 
one,  is  almost  necessarily  regarded  as  a  trifler.  A  man,  on  the  con- 
trary, exhibiting  unifonn  views,  and  principles,  in  a  life,  uniformly 
directed  by  them,  governed,  and  governing,  by  the  same  rules, and 
an  unchanging  regard  to  them,  is  always  possessed  of  dignity; 
and,  when  seen  to  be  steadily  opposed  to  sin  and  folly,  and  at- 
tached to  wisdom  and  virtue,  is  possessed  of  high  dignity.  This 
character,  seen  in  a  parent,  will  invariably  engage  the  highest  filial 
veneration. 

When  children  become  satisfied,  that  the  restraints  and  correc- 
tions, which  they  experience  from  their  parents,  spring  only  from 
a  conviction,  that  they  are  right,  and  necessary  ;  their  consciences 
will  almost  always  acquiesce.  What  is  remarkable,  and  would, 
were  it  not  common,  be  surprising  ;  they  love  the  parent,  who  ad- 
ministers them,  much  more,  than  nim  who  neglects  them.  Between 
parental  government,  conducted  in  this  manner,  and  that  which 
is  passionate,  desultory,  and  fraught  with  inconsistencies,  the  dif- 
ference can  scarcely  be  calculated. 

At  a  general  conclusion  of  my  observations  concerning  the  edu- 
cation of  Children,  I  add  that  all  the  efforts  of  the  parent  ought  to 
hf.  uecompanitd  wiA  Prayer  to  God  for  his  blessing.  It  is  ihc  in- 
dispensable duty  of  mankind  to  pray  always  with  all  prayer.  Few, 
very  few,  are  those  employments  in  human  life,  which  so  loudly 
pall  for  thi9  foithful  performance  of  this  duty,  as  that,  which  has 


8£R  CXil.]  AifTT  OF  PARENTS  310 

been  under  discussion.  Wisdom,  patience,  faithfulness,  kindness, 
and  constancy,  are  rarely  demanded  of  man  in  any  concern,  either 
so  unceasingly,  or  in  so  great  a  degree,  as  in  this.  All  these  quali- 
fications, are  indispensable  to  our  success ;  and  we  need  them  indis 
pensably  from  the  Father  of  lights  who  alone  can  furnish  these  aikd 
all  other  good  gifts.  If  we  possessed  them  all ;  we  should  equally 
need  his  blessings  to  give  an  eflBcacious  and  happy  issue  to  our 
exertions.  Both  ibe  qualifications,  and  the  l)les$mgs,  then,  are  to 
be  asked  of  God  wiho  giveth  liberally  unto  all ;  and  wfea  hath  as- 
sured us,  that  every  one  who  asketh  shall  receive.  The  [)arent, 
who  educates  his  children  with  the  greatest  care,  and  yet  fails  to 
invoke  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his  labours,  has  done  but  half  his 
duty  ;  and  is  entitled  to  no  promise  of  success. 

III.  /  shall  now  make  a  few  obsermiU>ns  xonceming  the  Settle   • 
ment  of  Children. 

The  parent's  duty  with  respect  to  this  subject  will  b6  principal- 
ly concerned  with  the  following  things. 

1 .   The  choice  of  that  Business j  in  which  he  is  to  spends  princv' 
pally,  his  life. 

In  selecting  this  object,  a  parent  is  bound  to  regard  the  state  of 
his  own  circumstances  ;  the  reasonable  expectations  of  his  child ; 
his  talents ;  his  inchnations ;  the  probability  of  his  obtaining  a 
competent  subsistence  ;  the  prospect  of  his  usefulness ;  and  the 
security  of  his  virtue.  It  will  be  easily  seen,  that  all  these  are  dis- 
cretionary things  ;  to  be  judged  of  as  well  as  we  are  able,  and  re- 
ducible to  no  precise  general  rule.  Where  children  are  not  peculiarly 
froward,and  parents  not  peculiarly  prejudiced,  the  advantage  of  the 
child  will,  in  ordinary  cases,  be  sufficiently  consulted.  The  prin- 
cipal difficulty,  here,  will  usually  be,  to  determine  how  far  regard 
is  to  be  had. to  his  inclinations.  A  degree  of  indulgence  is  always 
to  be  given  them.  When  they  direct  to  a  prudent  and  profitable  em- 
ployment, there  can  be  no  controversy ;  nor  when  they  direct  to  a 
dangerous  one.  All  the  real  perplexity  will  spring  from  ca^es  of 
a  doubtful  nature.  Here  the  child's  inclinations  are  supposed  to 
lean  one  way,  and  the  judgment  of  the  parent  another.  If  the  pa- 
rent apprehends  the  bias  of  the  child  to  be  iovincible ;  it  will  be 
both  prudent,  and  right,  to  yield  his  own  inclinations  :.If  not;  he 
may  lawfully  require  the  child  to  make  an  experiment  of  the  busi- 
ness, which  he  has  preferred.  The  child  is  then  bound  to  submit 
quietly  to  the  choice  of  the  parent ;  and  to  endeavour  faithfully  to  .„ 
subdue  his  own  opposing  inclinations.  If,  after  sl  fair  trial,  he  finds 
them  unconquerable ;  the  parent  is,  in  my  view,  bound  to  yield  the 
contested  ppmt.  The  happiness  of  the  child  ought,  here,  to  be  the 
commanding  object ;  and  no  child  can  be  happy,  who  is  prevented 
from  following  the  business  which  he  loves,  ana  compelled  to  pur- 
sue that  which  he  hates. 

Universally,   the  parent's  duty  demands  of  him   to  ploce  his 
child,  so  far  as  the  case  will  permit,  in  that  employinent,  which  up- 


V. 


920   «  .  DUTY  OF  PAR£NTS.  ^MQL  CZD. 

on  the  whole  is  best ;  which  will  probably  be  most  prodcictive  of 
his  comfort,  reputation,  usefulness,  and  piety.     To  some  children, 
on  account  of  their  peculiar  dispositions,  certain  employments  are 
sufficiently  safe,  which  for  others  arc  to  be  regarded  as  eminently 
dangerous.     The   business,  in  which  children  are  to  be   placed, 
when  they  are  exposed  by  their  dispositions  to  peculiar  tempta- 
tions, should,  as  far  as  may  be,  always  be  such,  as  to  counteract 
their  dispositions.     The  employments,  which  awaken  a  moderate 
ambition,  and  a   moderate  desire  of  wealth  and  pleasure,  and 
which  yet  disappoint  no  reasonable  expectations  of  children,  are 
usually  preferable  to  all  others.     Those  of  a  contrary  nature, 
and  those,  particularly,  which   are  expected  to  produce  sudden 
opulence,  and  speedy  aggrandizement,  or  which  conduct  to  volup- 
tuousness, are  fraught  wito  infinite  danger  and  mischief.    They  that 
will  be  rich^  or  great,  or  voluptuous,  fall  into  temptation^  and  a 
snare,  and  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  that  drown  men  in 
destruction  and  perdition.     The  love  of  these  things  is  the  root  of 
all  evil :  and  those,  roho  covet  after  them,  pierce  themselves  through 
with  many  sorrows.     Most  parents  wish  these  things  for  their  chil- 
dren ;  but  they  know  not  what  spirit  they  are  of     Most    parents, 
also,  wish  their  sons  to  be  geniuses,  and  their  daughters  to  be 
beauties.     How  unfounded,  how  self-deceiving,  are  all  these  de- 
sires !     I  do  not  deny,  that  many  men  of  high  office,  and  of  great 
wealth,  men  who  have  .possessed  in  abundance  all  those,  which 
are  called  the  enjoyments  of  life,  have  been  pious ;  and,  so  far  as 
this  world  permits,  happy.     I  do  not  deny  that  such  has  been  the 
j character,  and  state,  of  many  men,  remarkable  for  their  talents; 
>;and  of  many  women,  distinguished  for  their  beaatj.     I  do  not  de- 
ny, that  all  these  things  arc,  in  their  nature,  to  be  regarded  as 
blessings  ;  or  that  they  sometimes  are  actually  blessings.     But  to 
most  of  mankind  they  are  plainly  curses;  and  probably  to  all  who 
ardently  desire  them.   What  a  melancholy  history  would  the  whole 
history  be  of  beauties,  geniuses,  and  men  in  high  ofl5ce,  of  great 
wealth,  and  determined  sensuality! 

2.  Marriage. 

With  respect  to  this  subject,  children  are  usually  governed  by 
inclination  only,  or  chiefly :  their  parents  sometimes  by  judgments; 
sometimes  by  avarice  ;  sometimes  by  ambition;  sometimes  by  ha- 
tred to  the  family,  or  person,  with  whom  the  child  is  intended  to  be 
connected;  and  sometimes  by  favouritism  for  other  persons,  or 
families.  The  parent  ought  to  be  influenced  by  his  unbiassed 
judgment  only.  By  every  thing  else  he  will,  without  suspecting 
It,  be  deceived ;  and  sometimes  in  a  degree  which  can  neither  be 
foreseen,  nor  limited,  render  both  himself,  and  his  child,  unhappy 
through  life. 

Parents  can  never  lawfully  compel  their  children  to  many  pe^ 
sons,  who  are  objects  of  their  dislike ;  nor  use  at  all  for  such  a 
purpose  that  influence,  or  those  persuasives,  whiclLoperate  upon 


« 


391         ^ 


SER.  era.]  DDTT  OF  PAKEMT9. 

tender  and  susceptible  minds  as  the  worst  kind  of  compulsion. 
The  reasons  are  plain.  The  child  would  be  made  miseitibic ;  and 
could  not,  in  any  event,  without  a  prevarication,  of  the  same  na- 
ture with  perjury,  lake  upon  himself  the  marfiage  vows.  But, 
during  the  minority  of  his  children,  he  may  be  required  by  indis- 
pensable duty  to  restrain  them  from  marrying,  in  certain  cases. 
This,  however,  is  an  extreme  exercise  of  aulhority;  and  should 
take  place,  only  where  the  cases  are  extreme;  cases,  for  example, 
in  which  the  intended  partner  Is  an  infidel ;  or  grossly  vicious ;  or 
of  a  family,  scandalous  for  vice;  or  in  some  other  case  of  a 
similar  importance.  In  all  inferior  cases,  the  parent's  duty  is,  in 
my  view,  confined  to  information;  to  persuasion,  kindly  and  rea- 
sonably conducted;  and  to  such  delays  of  the  intended  connexion 
as  will  furnish  opportunity  to  give  these  dissuasives  their  full  ope- 
ration. In  these  cases,  children  are  bound  to  listen  with  the  ut- 
most wilhngness,  and  impartiality,  to  the  parent's  reasons;  and 
deeply  to  ieel,  and  lo  respect  his  pleasure.  If  the  reasons  are 
solid  ;  ihey  ought  to  be  influenced  by  their  whole  force  ;  and,  as 
far  as  may  be,  to  overcome  their  own  inclinations  :  remenjbering, 
that,  ahhough  their  own  happiness  is  xhe^rst  thing  to  be  regard- 
ed in  forming  such  a  connexion,  thai  of  their  parents  is  the  si  candj 
and  that  parental  opposition  to  their  wishes  can  rarely  aim  [iiany 
thing  but  their  own  good.  When  children  have  useci  all  reasona- 
ble expedients  to  bend  their  inclinations  to  the  wishes  of  ilieir  pa- 
rents, and  are  yet  unable  lo  subdue  them,  their  non-compliance  can 
lawfully  neither  be  punished,  nor  resented. 

3.  Assistance  towards  acquiring  a  compettnl  living. 

When  children  commence  their  settlement  in  life,  they  ofipn  nee4 
assistance,  at  least  as  much  as  in  earlier  periods.  This  assistance 
is,  however,  principally  confined  to  two  articles;  giving  advice, 
and  furnishing  pecuniary  aid.  All  parents,  perhaps,  are  sullicienl- 
ly  willing  to  give  advice ;  and  most,  I  believe,  are  wdlinif  lo  be- 
friend iheir  children  with  pecuniary  assistance,  in  such  a  decree, 
as  is  not  felt  to  be  inconvenient  to  themselves.  There  arc  those, 
however,  who  imparl  sparingly  enough;  and  there  are  others,  still, 
who  are  disposed  to  give  little  or  nothing.  Avarice  sometimes  in- 
fluences the  parent's  conduct  in  this  respect;  and  oftencr,  I  be- 
lieve, a  reluctance  lo  lessen  the  heap,  which  we  have  been  long 
eathering;  and  oftener,  still,  ihe  wound,  which  pride  feols  at 
being  thought  to  possess  less  wealth,  than  the  utmdBI  of  what  we 
have  amassed.  These  are  always  wretched  reasons ;  and,  in  this 
case,  reasons  for  wretched  conduct.  A  child,  when  selling  out  in 
the  world,  finds  himself  surrounded  by  a  multitude  of  diliJcullies; 
to  struggle  with  which  he  must  be  very  imperfectly  prepared. 
Unexperienced,  alone,  suddenly  plunged  into  many  pcrplc lilies, 
and  unacquainted  with  the  means  of  relieving  themselves,  children 
are  often  distressed,  discouraged,  and  sometimes  broken  down; 
when  the  hoping  hanil  of  a  parent  would,  with  no  real  inconven- 

VoL.  HI.  41 


i 


I  1  4 


S^3 


> 


mm  OF  PARENTS. 


|BCR. 


Gxn 


ience  to  himself,  raise  them  to  hope,  resolution,  and  comfort.   That 

Sarents,  so  situated,  are  bound  oy  plain  duty  to  assist  tbeir  chil- 
ren  in  these  circumstances  can  need  np^itoof.  He,  who  will  not 
thus  relieve  the  offspring  of  his  own  bowels,  even  at  the  expense 

.  of  being  thought  less  rich,  or  of  being  actually  less  rich,  deserves 
not  the  name  of  a  parent ;  and  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  show  his 

,  ikce  among  those  wno  do.  F'or  my  own  part,  I  cannot  conceive, 
that  a  man,  who*  will  not  deny  himself  a  little,  to  befriend  bis  own 
children,  can  have  ever  compassed  the  self-denial  of  forgiving  his 
enemies;  nor  understand  how  he  can  possess  sufficient  confidence 
to  stand  up  in  morning  and  evening  worship,  at  the  head  of  his 

'  funily,  and  say,  in  his  own  name  pr^  ♦KpJr«  Our  Father^  ».**,  /r^ ;. 


^' 


*  • 


./ 


'  r 


'W» 


..■v< 


iStelkMON  CXIIL 


rirTH   COMMAirDllCNT. — dOUTT    OF  RULIKS*  ^ 


•DVt  n.  12. — BwMwr  thy  father  and  thy  iMihetf  that  thy  day$  9My  te  long 

the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God  gweth  thee* 

m 

Beside  the  direct  import  of  this  precept,  it  has  been  general- 
and  justly,  considered  as  by  a  very  obvious  analogy  including 
>se  duties,  which  are  reciprocally  to  be  rendered  by  men  in  va* 
us  other  relations :  particularly  those  of  superiors  and  inferiors, 
atever  may  be  the  basis  of  their  relative  characters.  To  an 
amnination  of  all  these  duties  it  might  fairly  lead.  I  shall,  how- 
sr,  make  it  my  guide  to  the  investigation  of  one  claA  of  them 
ly:  viz.  TTie  Duties  of  Magistrates  and  Subjects. 
The  relations  of  Magistrate  and  Subject  are  so  obviously  9nal- 
)us  to  those  of  parents  and  children,  that  Magistrates  have  been 
en  styled  the  fathers  of  their  people  ;  and  their  people  often  call-* 
their  children.     No  lan^a^e  of  commendation  is  with  more 

Juency,  or  with  more  emphasis,  applied  to  a  prince,  distinguish- 
br  his  wisdom,  justice,  and  benevolence,  than  that  he  wa§  afa^ 
r  to  his  subjects.     In  this  manner  mankind  have  acknowledged 

similairity  of  these  relations;  and  from  a  similarity  of  relations, 
TV  man  knows,  must  arise  a  similarity  of  duties.    Accordingly, 

dfuty  to  magistrates  is  enjoined  in  the  very  same  terms,  as  wkt 
ich  is  owed  to  parents. 

?ear  God^  says  St.  Peter;  honour  the  king.  We  are  also  di- 
ted  by  St.  Paul  to  render  reverence^  honour^  custom^  and  In6- 
to  the  several  orders  of  magistracy,  as  from  time  to  time  ikej 

due. 

t  is  my  design  in  this  discourse  to  state,  in  a  summary  manner, 
Jfdture  of  civil  government ;  and  the  respective  duties  of  Rulen 
I  Subjects.  This  I  shall  do  without  even  a  reiQOte  reference 
«r  to  the  past,  or  present,  state  of  our  own  government.  I 
er  preached  what  is  commonly  called  a  political  sermon,  on 

Sabbath,  in  my  life:  and  I  shall  not  begin  now;  although  to 
ach  such  sermons  is  unquestioiAbly  the  rieht,  and  in  certain 
BS  as  unquestionably  the  duty,  of  every  Minister  of  the  Gospel* 

that  I  shall  attempt  to  perform,  is  to  exhibit  some  of  the  prima- 
)rincip1es,  and  duties,  which  pertain  16  government,  as  a  branch 
loral  science.     The  knowleage  of  these  is  in  some  degree  ne- 


324  DUTY  OF  RULERS.  [BER.  CXm 

cessary  to  every  man,  who  wishes  to  discharge  either  the  duties  of 
a  ruler,  or  those  of  a  subject. 

Hie  foundation  of  all  government  w,  undoubtedly^  the  Will  of  God. 
Government,  since  the  days  of  Mr.  Locke,  has  been  extensively 
supposed  to  be  founded  in  the  Social  Coinpact.     No  opinion  is  more 
groundless  than  this.     The  great  man,  whom  I  have  mentioned, 
was  probably  led  to  adopt  it,  from  his  zeal  to  omose  the  ridicu- 
.  lous  whims  of  Sir  Robert  Ftlmer ;  who  taught,  that  kings  had  a 
divine,  hereditary  right  to  their  thrones,  hy  virtue  of  the  original  gift 
of  universal  dominion  to  Adam.     In  opposing  this  monstrous  ab- 
surdity, Mr.  Locke  fell  into  another  not  a  \vnit  more  rational,  or 
defensible.     This  doctrine  supposes,  that  mankind  were  originally 
without  any  government  j  and  that  in  an  absolute  state  of  nature 
they  voluntarily  came  together,  for  the  purpose  of  constituting  a 
body  politic,  creating  rulers,  prescribing  their  functions,  and  mak- 
ing laws  directing  their  own  civil  duties.     It  supposes,  that  they 
entered  into  grave   and   philosophic   deliberations;  individually 
consented  to  be  bound  by  the  will  of  the  majority ;  and  cheerfully 
gave  up  the  wild  life  of  savage  liberty,  for  restraints,  which,  how- 
ever necessary  and  useful,  no  savage  could  ever  brook,  even  for 
a  day.     Antecedently  to  such  an  assembly,  and  its  decisions,  this 
doctrine  supposes,  that  men  have  no  civil  rights,  obligations,  or 
duties,  and  of  course,  that  those,  who  do  not  consent  to  be  bound 
by  such  a  compact,  are,  now,  not  the  subjects  of  either  :  such  a 
compact,  in  the  apprehension  of  the  abettors  of  this  doctrine,  be- 
ing tliut,  which  creates  all  the  civil  rights,  obligations,  and  duties, 
of  man. 

The  absurdities  of  this  doctrine  are  endless.  He,  who  knows 
any  thing  of  the  nature  of  savages,  knows  perfectly,  that  noiavage 
toas  ever  capable  of  forming  such  a  design;  and  that  civiUt^  life 
is  indispensably,  necessary  to  the  very  perception  of  the  thiDes, 
pre-su()posed  by  this  doctrine,  and  absolutely  pre-requisite  to  the 
very  existence  of  such  an  assembly.  Every  one,  acquainted  at 
all  w:ih  savages,  knows  equally  well,  that,  if  they  were  capable 
of  all  this  comprehension,  nothing,  short  of  omnipotence,  coidd  per- 
suade  them  to  embrace  such  a  scheme  of  conduct.  There  is  nothing, 
which  a  savage  hates  more,  than  the  restraints  of  civilized  life; 
nothing,  which  he  despises  more,  than  the  civilized  character, 
its  refinements,  its  improvements,  nay,  its  very  enjoyments.  To 
have  formed  such  an  assembly,  or  even  to  have  proposed  suck 
a  system,  men  must  have  already  been  long  governea,  and  cifHfj 
ilized. 

At  the  same  time,  there  is  no  fact,  more  clearly  evinced  by  the 
history  of  man,  than  that  such  a  compact  never  existed.  This  even 
the  abettors  of  it  are  obliged  to  confess  ;  and  this  cuts  up  the  doc- 
trine by  the  roots.  For  if  the  social  compact  was  not  a  fact  5  it  is 
nothing* 


;.  CXIU.]  DUTT  07  RULERS. 


But  i[  is  alleged,  that,  a/iAow|'A  ihis  compact  watnneran 
presi  one,  i(  may,  still,  bi  fairly  considered  as  a  ladl  and  implied 
compact.  To  the  very  existence  of  a  compact  it  is  indispensable, 
that  the  coritracling  parly  should  be  conscious,  that  the  subject  of 
the  compact  is  proposea  10  him  for  his  dchberalion,  choice,  and 
consent;  and  that  he  does  actually  deliberate,  choose,  and  con- 
sent. But  there  is  not  even  the  shadow  of  a  pretence,  that  any 
man,  considering  himself  as  being  In  a  state  of  nature,  and  subject 
to  no  civil  government,  was  ever  conscious  of  being  invited  to  be- 
come a  party  to  such  a  compact,  and  of  having  this  question  ever 
proposed  to  him  for  such  deliberation,  or  such  consent.  There  u, 
ihere/ort,  as  liult  foundation  fur  the  supposition  of  a  tacit,  at  for  that 
of  an  express,  social  compact. 

It  is  further  alleged,  that  this  schtme,  although  confessedly  ima- 
gtnary,  may  yet  be  advantageously  employed  to  illustrate  the  nature 
of  civil  govcmmenl.  In  answer  to  this  allegation,  !  shall  only 
observe,  that  the  philosopher  who  believes  falsehood  (o  be  neces- 
sary, or  useful,  to  the  illustration  of  truth,  must  be  very  hardly 
driven  by  his  own  weakness,  or  by  the  erroneousncss  of  his 
system. 

If  it  were  indeed  true,  that  government  is  thus  founded,  then 
these  fatal  consequences  would  follow. 

Everu  despotism  on  earth  must  stand  as  long  as  ike  world  conhn- 
MM.  Every  subject  of  despotic  power  is  by  this  doctrine  suppos- 
ed to  promise  his  obedience  to  it ;  and  no  man  can  ever  withoraw 
himself  from  the  obligation  of  his  own  promise.  A  new  govern- 
ment can  never  upon  this  scheme  be  substituted  for  a  former,  but 
by  the  choice  of  the  majority  of  those,  who  are  subject  to  it:  and 
as  mja  come  into  the  world,  there  never  can  be,  in  any  country, 
a  majority  of  inhabitants,  who  have  not  already  promised  obetii- 
ence  to  the  existing  government.  A  minority,  therefore,  must 
always  comprise  the  whole  number  of  those,  who  can  lawfully  act 
in  the  business  of  modelling  the  government  anew.  Nor  could 
even  these  act  in  concert,  without  Dcing  guilty  of  rebellion.  Nor 
couU  those,  who  had  already  promised  obedience,  be  released 
from  their  promise.  I^  therefore,  a  new  government  were  to  be 
constituted ;  there  must  be  two  sets  of  inhabitants,  every  where 
intermingled  throughout  such  a  country,  and  obeying  two  distinct 
and  hostile  governments. 

If  any  man,  in  any  country,  declines  his  consent  to  the  compact} 
'"Ae  IS  wider  no  obligation  to  ob'y  Ike  existing  government.  Personal 
consent,  according  to  this  scheme,  is  all,  that  constitutes  such  ob- 
ligation. Such  a  man  may,  therefore,  Sijl  himself  in  a  slate  of 
nature.  If  he  attacks  others,  indeed ;  they  may  attack  hira  in 
turn  :  but  the  government  cannot  lawfully  meddle  with  him,  nor 
irith  his  concerns. 

If  the  niier  should  violate  any,  fvcn  the  least  part  of  his  own  m- 
gagemtntt;  then  the  subjects  are  relett4td  from  their  engagements  i 


3S5         I 


i 


*  ' 


326  DUTY  OF  RULERS.  [SER.  CXIlt 

and  of  course^  from  all  obligation  to  obey  the  laws.  In  other  words, 
from  the  least  violation  of  the  ruler's  engagements,  a  state  of  an- 
archy lawfully  and  necessarily  ensues.  If  the  subjects  pass  by 
such  violation  in  silence ;  their  consent  to  it  is  equally  implied  with 
their  supposed  original  compact.  Of  course  the  ruler  may  law- 
'  fully  commit  the  same  violation  again  as  often  as  he  pleases  ;  nor 
can  the  subjects  lawfully  complain  ;  because  they  have  consented 
to  it  in  the  sapie  manner  as  to  the  pre-existing  government.  Ev- 
ery such  violation,  therefore,  which  is  not  openly  resisted,  is  fiuaal- 
ly  sanctioned* 

Od  llk^l{|rf4her  band,  if  a  subject  violate  any  of  his  engagements^ 
however  '9lhall ;  the  ruler  may  lawfully  make  him  an  Outlaw  y  ani 
deprive  him  of  every  privilege^  which  he  holds  as  a  eiiigtn* 

Jl  foreigner  J  passing  through  such  a  country  j  can  ie  under  no  ob- 
ligation  to  obey  its  laws  ;  ana^  if  he  does  any  things  which  may  ic 
construed  as  an  outrage^  must  either  be  suffered  to  do  it  with  impih 
nityj  or  must  be  attaclUd  by  private  violence.  Such  attacks,  a  few 
times  repeated,  would  convert  any  people  into  a  horde  of  robbers. 

J>fo  man  could^  in  such  a  government^  be  punished  with  death} 
however  enormous  might  be  his  crimes  }  because  no  man  ever  thought 
of  making,  or  has  any  right  to  make,  a  surrender  of  his  own  Sfe 
.  into  the  hands  of  others. 

All  these,  '$Lnd  a  multitude  of  other,  deplorable  consequences 
follow,  irresistibly  follow,  from  the  doctrine,  that  government  is 
founded  on  the  social  compact. 

Government^  as  I  have  already  remarked,  is  founded  in  the  WiU 
of  God.  The  evidence  of  this  position  is  complete.  That  God 
made  mankind  in  order  to  make^tliem  b^ppy,  if  they  themselves 
will  consent  to  be  so,  cannot  b^  questioned.  As  little  can  it  be 
questioned,  that  government  is  indispensable  to  their  happiness, 
and  to  all  the  human  means  of  it ;  to  the  safety  of  life,  liberty,  and 
property  ;  to  peace  ;  to  order ;  to  useful  knowledge  ;  to  morals; 
and  to  religion.  Nay,  it  is  necessary  to  the  very  existence  of  any 
considerable  numbers  of  mankind.  A  country  without  government 
would  speedily,  for  want  of  those  means  of  subsistence  and  comfort, 
to  the  existence  of  w  hich  it  is  indispensable,  become  an  Arabian 
desert ;  and  that,  however  fruitful  its  soil,  or  salubrious  its  cUmate. 
Mankind  have  never  yet  been  able  to  exist  for  any  length  of  time 
in  a  state  of  anarchy.  What  reason  so  completely  evinces,  the 
Scriptures  decide  in  the  most  peremptory  manner.  TTie  powers 
that  6e,  says  St.  Paid,  are  ordained  of  God :  in  other  words ; 
Government  is  an  ordinance  of  God. 
K^  ^  It  is  not  here  to  be  intended,  that  God  has  ordained  a  given  forwi 
iff  government.  This  he  has  never  done,  except  in  a  single  in- 
stance. He  gave  the  Israelites  a  system,  substantially  of  tne  re- 
1)ublican  form.  This  fact  may,  perhaps,  afford  a  presumptioo  fal 
avour  of  such  a  form,  wherever  it  is  capable  of  existing,  out  can 
do  ndthing  more.    Nothing  more  is  here  intended,  than  ihat  God 


8X21.  CXUl  ]  DUTY  OF  KULER3.  337 

hus  teilUd  ike  existence  of  Government  itself.  He  hns  undouhlcd- 
ly  left  it  to  nations  to  institute  such  modes  of  it,  whenever  (his  is 
in  iheir  power,  as  should  best  suit  their  own  state  of  society. 

As  God  willed  the  existence  of  govern rp en  1  for  the  happiness  of 
mankind;  it  is  unanswerably  certain,  that  every  government  is 
agreeable  to  his  will  jusl  so  far,  aa  it  promotes  that  bapniness; 
ibat  that  government,  which  promotes  it  most,  is  most  agreeable  to 
his  will;  and  that  that  government,  which  opposes  human  happi- 
Bc&s,  is  equally  opposed  to  his  will.  From  these  undeniable  prin- 
ciples both  rulera  and  subjects  may  easily  learn  most  of  iheir 
own  duty.  Whatever  is  conformed  to  ihem  is  right:  whatever 
is  contrary  Co  ihem  is  wrong  of  course.  This,  it  wtU  be  remem- 
bered, is  the  dictate  both  of  common  sense,  and  of  the  Scriptures. 
Every  ruler  is  accordingly  bound  to  remember,  that  he  is  raised 
to  the  chair  of  magistracy,  solely  for  the  good  of  those  whom  he 
governs.  His  own  good  he  is  if  Imd  in  the  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing jiromoted  that  of  others;  tu  I  in  the  support,  affection,  and 
respect,  which  they  render,  and  ure  bound  to  render,  him  for  dis- 
charging this  important  duty.  Tiicre  is  no  greater  mistake,  there 
is  no  more  anti-scriptural,  or  contemptible,  absurdity,  than  the 
doctrine  of  millions  made  for  one  ,■  of  a  ruler,  raided  to  the  chair 
of  magistracy,  to  govern  for  himself;  to  receive  homage  ;  to  roll 
io  splendour ;  to  riot  in  luxury ;  to  gratify  pride,  power,  and  ambi- 
tion, at  the  expense  of  the  toils  and  sufierings  of  Us  fellow-men. 
Such  a  ruler  is  only  a  public  i-obber.  Every  man  in  office,  how- 
ever elevated,  is  bound  to  remember,  as  a  being  equally  account- 
able to  God  with  his  fellow-men,  that  his  personal  rights  are  by 
the  divine  constiiution  and  pleasure  the  same,  as  those  of  others  ; 
that  his  personal  gratification  is  of  no  more  importance,  and  can 
claim  no  greater  sacrifices,  than  that  of  others;  that  peculation, 
fraud,  falsehood,  itijustice,  ojipression,  drunkenness,  gluttony, 
lewdness,  sloth,  profanencss,  irreligion,  and  impiety;  in  a  word, 
every  crime;  is  accompanied  by  greater  guilt  in  him,  than  in  men 
St  large ;  because  of  his  superior  advantages  to  know  ;  and  his 
superior  inducements  to  perform,  his  duly.  Forsaking  all  private 
gratifications,  then,  so  far  as  they  are  inconsistent  wiln  the  public 
happiness,  just  so  much  more  important  than  his,  as  those  wno  en- 
joy It  are  more  numerous,  he  is  required,  indispensably,  to  see, 
that  his  government  has  that  happy  and  glorious  influence  upon 
his  people,  which  is  described  by  a  man,  thoroughly  versed  in  this 
subject,  in  the  following  beautiful  language ;  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
tpake  by  me  ;  and  his  laurd  mat  in  m;/  tongue.  The  God  of  Israel 
iM  taid,  the  Rock  of  Israel  spnke  lo  me,  He  that  rvlelh  over  men  must  be 
jutl,  ruling  in  the  fear  of  God ;  and  he  shall  be  as  the  light  of  tht 
morning,  when  the  svn  ristlh,  even  a  morning  tvilhoul  clouds  ;  ailhe 
tender  grass,  springing  out  of  the  earth  bg  clear  shining  afler  ram, 
•  S  Sam.  xiiii.  2 — 1 


4 


I 


533  DUTT  OF  RULERS.  [SER.  CXm 

To  possess  this  beneficent  influence ;  like  this  glorious  luminary 
to  diffuse  light,  and  warmth,  and  animation,  and  nappiness,  to  all 
around  him ;  a  Ruler  ought, 

1 .  To  be  a  man  of  absolute  Sincerity  • 

Or  the  ruler  x^f  the  Universe  it  is  said,  that  it  is  impossHbUy  that 
he  should  lie.  Mercy  and  trulhy  said  the  wisest  ruler  that  ever 
lived  in  this  world,  preserve  the  king.  The  lip  of.  tfuthj  says  the 
same  prince,  shall  be  established  for  ever.  "  If  truth,"  said  King 
John  of  France^ "  were  to  be  banished  from  the  world  ;  it  ought 
still  to  find  a  residence  in  the  breast  of  Princes."  On  the  impor- 
tance of  truth  I  shall  have  occasion  to  dwell  hereaflen  It  ought, 
however,  to  be  observed  here,  that  truth  is  the  basis,  on  which 
rest  all  the  natural  and  moral  interests  of  Intelligent  beings  ;  that 
neither  virtue  nor  happiness  can  exist  without  it ;  and  that  false- 
hood, generally  diffused,  would  ruin  not  only  a  kingdom  or  a 
world,  but  the  universe ;  i^ould  change  all  rational  beings  into 
fiends,  and  convert  heaven  itself  into  a  hell. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  government;  that  of  force}  and  that  of 
persuasion.  A  government  of  persuasion  is  the  only  moral,  or  fi4e 
government.  A  government  of  force  may  preserve  order  in  every 
case,  which  that  force  can  reach ;  but  the  order  is  that  of  a  church- 
yard; the  stillness  and  quiet  of*  death.  The  inhabitants  of  a 
Kingdom,  goferned  in  this  manner,  are  tenants  of  the  grave :  mov- 
ing masses,  indeed,  of  ilesh  and  bones :  but  the  animating  princi- 
ple is  gone.  The  soul  is  shrivelled,  and  fled ;  and  nothing  re- 
mains, but  dust  and  putrefaction. 

A  government  of  persuasion  subsists  only  in  the  mutual  canfdenct 
of  the  nJer  and  the  subjects.  But  where  truth  is  not,  confidence  is 
not.  A  deceitful  niler  is  never  believed  for  a  moment.  If  we 
could  suppose  him  desirous  to  do  good  ;  he  would  want  the  pow- 
er: for. none  would  trust  either  his  declarations,  or  his  promises. 
The  only  feelings,  excited  in  the  minds  of  the  community,  towards 
him  and  his  measures,  would  be  jealousy  and  hatred.  Even  fools 
know,  that  upright  and- benevolent  measures  not  only  need  no 
support  from  falsehood,  but  are  ruined  by  it.  The  very  connec- 
tion of  falsehood,  therefore,  with  any  measures,  proves  Irresistibly 
to  all  men,  that  the  measures  themselves  are  mischievous,  and  that 
the  Author  of  them  is  a  villain.  Where  confidence  does  not  exist, 
voluntary  obedience  cannot  exist.  A  lying  ruler,  if  his  govern- 
ment is  to  continue,  makes  force,  or  despotism,  indispensable  to 
his  administration.  So  sensible  are  even  the  most  villainous  ma- 
gistrates of  these  truths,  that  they  leave  no  mea&ure  untried  to  per- 
4suade  their  subjects,  that  themselves  are  men  of  veracity.  Nay,  all 
sagacious  despots  carefully  fulfil  their  promises  to  such  of  their 
suBjects,  as  they  think  necessary  to  the  support  of  their  domination, 
and  to  the  success  of  their  measures.  Falsehood  may,  indeed,  in 
the  hands  of  a  man  of  superior  cunning,  succeed  for  a  time ;  but  it 


SER.  CXni.]  DUTY  OF  RULERS.  339 

can  never  last  long :  and,  whenever  detection  arrives,  it  draws  af- 
ter it  a  terrible  train  of  avengers. 

Besides,  lying  is  the  most  contemptible  of  all  sins.     Ye  are  of 

your  father^  the  devily  said  our  Saviour  to  the  Jews  ^  for  he  was  a 

liar  from  the  beginnings  and  the  father  of  it.     This  contemptible 

resemblance  to  the  vilest  and  most  contemptible  of  all  beings,  tlje 

source  of  complete  debasement  to  every  one  who  is  the  subject 

^of  it,  is  pre-eminently  contemptible  in  a  ruler.     He  is,  of  course, 

the  object  both  of  public  and  private  scorn.     No  degradation  is 

more  indignantly  regarded,  than  that  of  being  governed  by  a  liar. 

-  If  a  ruler  hearken  to  lies  ^  says  Solomon,  all  his  servants  are 

wicked*     Such  a  magistrate  will  be  served  by  none  but  profligate 

men.     The  evils  ot  his  government  will,  therefore,  spread,  by. 

means  of  his  subordinate  officers,  into  every  nook  and  corner  of 

the  land.     Like  the  Simoon  of  Jfubioj  he  spreads  poison,  death, 

and  desolation,  over  the  wretched  countries  subjected  to  his  sway. 

2.  ^  Ruler  is  bound  to  be  a  Just  man. 

He  that  ruleth  over  men,  saith  God,  must  be  just.  This,  indeed, 
is  united,  of  course,  with  the  preceding  character.  He  that  speak* 
tth  truth,  saith  Solomon,  sheweth  forth  righteousness.  The  impor- 
tance of  justice  in  government  is,  like  that  of  truth,  inestimable; 
and,  as  it  respects  the  divine  governrpent,  is  exhibited  with  won- 
derful force  in  that  declaration  of  Moses,  He  is  the  ^ck  ;  that  is, 
the  immoveable  foundation,  on  which  the  universe  rfets.  Why? 
The  answer  is,  His  work  is  perfect :  for  all  his  ways  are  judgment, 
or  justice  ;  a  God  of  truth,  and  without  iniquity,  just  and  right  is  He. 
On  the  truth  and  justice  of  the  infinite  Mind  the  universe  is  built, 
as  a  house  upon  a  rock.  "  Fiatjustitia  ;  ruat  coelum;^^  is  an  ad- 
age, proverbially  expressing  the  judgment  of  Common  sense,  con- 
cerning this  subject.  Let  Justice  be  doAe,  although  heaven  itself 
should  tumble  into  ruin. 

This  comprehensive  attribute  demands  in  the 
First  place,  Of  the  Legislator,  that  he  enact  just  laws. 
Laws  are  the  rules,  by  which  rulers  themselves,  as  well  as  the 
people  at  large,  are,  or  ought  to  be  governed.  If  these  are  unjust  5 
the  whole  system  of  administration  will  be  a  system  of  iniquity  ; 
and  the  mass  of  guilt,  thus  accumulated,  will  rest  primarily  on  the 
head  of  the  Legislator. 

Secondly;  Of  the  Judge,  that  all  his  Interpretations  of  law,  and 
all  his  Decisions,  founded  on  it,  be  just.  Wo  unto  them,  saith 
Isaiah,  who  justify  the  wicked  for  a  reward,  and  take  away  the 
righteousness  of  the  righteous  from  him.  Ye  shall  do  no  unright-- 
tousness  in  judgment ;  saith  God  to  Israel,  thou  shall  not  respect 
the  person  of  the  poor,  nor  honour  the  person  of  the  mighty  :  but 
in  righteousness  shalt  thou  judge  thy  tuighbour.  It  is  not  good, 
says  Solomon,  to  have  respect  of  persons  in  judgment.  He  that 
saith  unto  the  zoicked,  that  is,  in  a  judicial  sentence,  JTiou  art  right- 
eous /  him  shall  people  curse :  nations  shall  abhor  him.  But  to 
Vol.  in.  42 


390  ^^'^^  ^^  RULERS.  [SER.  CXIIL 

them  that  rebuke  him  shall  be  delight ;  and  a  good  blessing  shall 
come  upon  them.  Tribunals  of  justice  bring  laws  to  every  man's 
fireside ;  and  apply  them  directly  to  his  property,  Kberty,  person, 
and  life.  How  just  soever,  how  reasonable  soever,  laws  may  he\ 
an  iniquitous  tribunal  may  prevent  all  their  good  effects;  and  ren- 
der a  country  as  miserable  by  its  decisions,  as  it  could  be  by  the 
operations  of  original  tyranny  in  the  legislator*  When  God  estab- 
lished the  government  of  Israel,  he  himself  formed  the  constitution, 
and  enacted  the  laws.  .  All  the  political  evils,  which  that  people 
suffered,  therefore,  were'  effectuated  by  the  unjust  applications  oi 
those  laws.  They  were,  however,  oppressed,  at  times,  as  intense- 
ly, as  the  nations,  who  have  been  unaer  despotic  dominion.  The 
guilt,  and  the  mischiefsj  of  this  oppression,  are  in  the  Scriptures 
charged  wholly,  and  truly,  to  the  judicial  and  executive  magistra- 
cy. The  same  evils,  in  the  same  degree,  may  be  derived  to  any 
people  from  the  same  sources.  A  wise  and  upright  judiciarj'  is  a 
public  blessing,  which  no  language  can  adequately  exhibit ;  which 
no  people  can  too  highlv  prize,  and  too  strenuously  vindicate  ;  and 
without  which  no  people  can  be  safe,  or  happy. 

TJiiTdly ;  Of  the  Executive  magistrate,  that  he  execu'e  the  laws 
faithfully,  invariably,  and  exactly.  This  is  so  plain  a  truth,  and 
so  universally  acknowledged,  as  to  need-no  illustration.  The  end 
of  ajl  legislative  and  judicial  efforts  is  found  here;  and,  if  thb 

freat  duty  is  unaccomplished,  both  legislative  and  judicial  efforts, 
owever  wise,  and  just,  and  good,  they  may  be,  are  a  mere  pup- 
pet-show. 

3.  A  Ruler  must  be  a  Benevolent  man. 

Of  the  Universal  Ruler  it  is  said,  God  is  love.  Of  the  same 
character  ought  all  his  earthly  delegates  to  be  possessed. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  spirit,  mfinitely  important  to  the  hap 
piness  of  intelligent  beings.  Riders  are  bound  to  make  the  public 
good  their  sole  object  in  governing.  Their  own  personal  interests, 
compared  with  the  general  interest,  are  an  unit  to  many  millions ; 
and  are  immensely  better  promoted  by  securing  the  common  good, 
than  by  any  possible  pursuit  of  that,  which  is  private  and  selfish. 
If  they  think  otherwise ;  it  is  either  because  they  cannot,  or  will 
not  discern  the  truth. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  spirit  also,  he  is  bound  to  administer 
justice  with  mercy.  In  th^  conduct  of  such  beings,  as  men,  there 
^e  very  many  cases,  in  which  a  rule,  generally  just,  becomes  un- 
just by  a  rigid  apphcation.  For  these  cases*  wise  governments 
nave  endeavourea  to  provide  by  entrusting  the  proper  magistrate 
with  a  discretionary  authority ;  in  the  exercise  of  which,  clemency 
may  be  extended  wherever  it  mav  be  extended  with  propriety. 
Even  where  a  strict  application  of  law  is  right,  and  necessaiTi 
there  may  be  a  harshness  and  unkindness  in  tne  manner  of  appli- 
cation, sometimes  scarcely  less  cruel,  than  injustice  in  the  appiica* 


Siat  CXIII.]  DUTY  OF  RULERS.  33I 

lion  itself.     A  benevolent  ruler  will  never -administer  government 

in  this  manner.  ..f 

Universally,  a  bene-polent  Ruler  will  prevent^  redress^  reliete^  and 
remove^  the  wrongs  both  of  the  public  and  of  individuals,  as  far, 
and  as  soon,  as  it  shall  be  in  his  powor.  He  will  cast  an  affection- 
iite  eye  on. all  the  concerns  of  his  countrymen ;  and,  w^herever  he 
sees  calamities  arise,  will  kindly  interpose  with  those  means  of  re- 
lief, which  God  has  placed  in  his  hands.  .  The  extensive  power 
of  doing  good,  with  which  he  is  entrusted  by  his  Creator,  he  will 
consider  as  thus  entrusted,  only  that  he  may  do  good ;  and  will 
fbel  himself  delightfully  rewardfed  by  having  been  selected  as  the 
honourable  instrument  for  accomplishing  so  glorious  a  purpose.  '. 
That  all  this  is  demanded  by  his  duty,  it  is  unnecessary  even  to 
assert. 

4.  A  Ruler  is  bound  to  respect  the  Laws  of  his  Country^ 

By  this  I  intend,  particularly,  that  he  is  bound  to  conform  to  them 
in  all  his  conduct,  personal  and  public.  The  laws  of  every  free 
country  prescribe  alike  the  conduct  of  the  ruler  and  the  ruled. 
The  official  conduct  of  all  magistrates,  whatever  be  their  office,  is 
directed  by  particular  laws.  To  every  one  of  these,  so  far  as  his 
own  duties  are  marked  out  by  it,  each  magistrate  is  bound  to  con- 
form with  absolute  exactness:  not  generally  and  loosely  only, 
but  with  respect  to  every  jot  and  tittle.  The  personal  conduct  of 
the  ruler  is  prescribed  by  the  same  laws,  which  direct  th%t  01  his 
iellow-citizens.  These  laws,  also,  it  is  his  duty  faithivrtly  and 
scrupulously  to  obey :  a  duty  enforced  by  higher  obligations,  than 
those,  which  respect  men  in  general ;  because  he  is  fairly  supposed 
to  understand  more  perfectly  the  duty  and  importance  of  obeying; 
and  because  in  violating  law,  his  evil  example  will  weaken  the 

S>vernment,  and  prompt  others  to  the  same  violation,  more  than 
at  of  any  private  individual.  The  ruler,  who. violates  the  laws 
of  the  land,  and  yet  attempts  to  compel,  or  persuade,  others  to 
obey  them,  labours,  with  the  Danaides,  to  fill  with  water  a  tub  full 
of  holes. 

Concerning  the  king,  whom  God  foresaw  the  Israelites  would 
one  day  elect  to  govern  them,  Moses^  by  his  direction,  says  to 
Israel,  //  shall  6e,  when  he  sitteth  upon  the  throne  of  his  kingdom^ 
that  he  shall  write  him  a  copy  of  this  law  in  a  book^  out  of  that  which 
is  before  the  priests,  the  Levites  ;  and  it  shall  be  with  him  ;  and  he 
shall  read  therein  all  the  days  of  his  life  ;  that  he  may  learn  to  fear 
the  Lord  his  God^  to  keep  all  the  words  of  this  law,  and  these  statutes, 
to  do  them :  that  his  heart  be  not  lifted  up  above  his  brethren^  and 
that  he  turn  not  aside  from  the  commandment  to  the  right  hand  or  to 
the  left.  Deut.  xvii.  19,  20. 

5.  ^  Ruler  ought  to  be  a  rnan  of  Piety. 

That  a  ruler  is  bound  to  sustain  this  character  by  all  the  obliga- 
tions, which  are  incumbent  on  other  men,  will  not  be  questioned. 
I  intend  something  more.    A  ruler  b  under  peculiar  obiigaticns  to 


532  DUTY  QF  RULERS  [SER.  CXm, 

susflaiitihis  character,  beside  those,  which  are  common  to  other 
men.     As  a  private  citizen,  he  was  under  all  the  common  obliga- 
tions to  sustain  this  character.     As  a  ruler,  he  is  under  new  ones. 
His  duties  arc  become  more  iniportant,  and  arduous  ;  and  drinand, 
in  an  eminent  degree,  the  blessing  of  God  to  enable  him  to  jj^riorm 
them  aright.     He  has  greater  means  of  doing  good  put  into  his 
hands,  and  needs,  in  a  peculiar  degree,  the  divine  assistance,  ta 
enable  him  to  use  them.    If  he  should  be  left  to  unwise,  or  wicked 
measures;  they  will  be  far  more  mischievous  to  his  countr^mco, 
than  any  thing,  which  he  could  formerly  have  done,  when  he  was  a 
'  private  citizen.     His  persomU  conduct,  also,  cannot  fail  to  be 
much  more  beneficial,  or  much  more  noxious,  to  his  country,  thao 
if  he  had  not  been  invested  with  a  public  character. 

In  accordance  with  these  observations,  the  Scriptures  infoimus, 
that  the  rulers  of /yrae/and  Judah  were  eminent  blessings,  or  emi- 
nent curses,  to  the  people,  over  which  they  presided,  DaTid^  Je- 
hoshaphni ^Hezekiah^  afid  Josiali^  arc  remarkable  example:?  «;f  the 
glorious  influence,  which  a  ruler  may  possess,  towards  reforming 
a  nation,  and  rendering  it  happy.  Jtrohoam  and  j?Ac6  aro  terri- 
ble proofs  of  the  power,  which  a  ruler  may  exert,  to  changf'  a  na- 
tion into  a  horde  of  profligates.  What  magistrate,  except  sj:ch  as 
Ahub  and  Jcrobvam^  would  not  covet  the  cnaracter,  and  inr.ucncc, 
of  iho  four  first  of  these  princes  ?  Whatman  of  common  t;(;brie- 
ty  woijld  not  shrink  with  horror  from  the  thought  of  rcscij)bling 
the  two  last?  But  the  lour  first  were  men  pf  exemplary  piety: 
while  the  two  last  were  impious  beyond  example. 

At  the  same  time,  God  usually  blesses  a  nation  for  the  snke  of 
pious  rulers :  whereas  an  impious  one  cannot  fail  to  become  a 
curse.  But  all  blessings  ore  given  in  answer  to  prayer.  Jlsk^  and 
ye  shall  receive^  is  the  only  promise  of  good  to  man;  in\olviDg 
the  condition,  without  which,  it  is  never  promised.  If  rulers, 
then,  would  obtain  blessings  either  for  thc^mselves,  or  their  people; 
they,  like  all  other  men,  must  pray  for  them.  Rut  Ike  sacrifice  of 
the  wicked^  and  of  wicked  rulers  as  well  as  of  other  wicked  men, 
is  an  abomination  to  the  Lord :  while  the  prayer  of  the  upright  is  hit 
delight.  Which  of  these  men  ought  we  here  to  suppose,  tnai  God 
will  answer,  and  bless  ? 

6,  ji  Ruler  is  bound  to  become  a  blessing  by  his  Example. 

The  chanicter  of  a  good  Ruler  is  forcibly,  and  perfect Iv,  de- 
scribed by  St.  Paul,  wnen  he  styles  him  a  Minister  ofG('d,for 
good  unto  his  people.  This  is  his  whole  business;  and,  while  he 
pursues  it,  he  is  acting  in  his  only  proper  character.  To  form 
this  character,  every  thing  which  I  have  mentioned,  contributes, 
as  an  essential  part.  But  every  thing,  which  has  been  sal:],  ex- 
cept what  was  observed  concerning  his  personal  obedience  to  the 
laws  of  the  land,  and  his  piety,  respects  his  official  duties.  The 
observation,  now  to  be  illustrated,  respects  his  conduct,  as  a  man. 


BBt  CZm.]  DUTT  OF  RULERS.  SJS 

As  a  man,  he  is  peculiarly  reouired  to  be  an  example  of  all  the 
Christian  virtues.  Whatever  ne  does,  others  will  do,  because  he 
does  it :  and  many  more  will  imitate  him,  than  if  he  were  a  private 
person.  The  weight  of  power,  and  the  splendour  of  office,  give 
to  the  example  of  the  ruler,  especially  in  an.  elevated  station,  an 
anthority,  a  persuasiveness,  a  cnarm,  which  fascinates  multitudes. 
If  his  example  be  virtuous ;  it  will  ereatly  discountenance,  and 
check,  vice ;  and  ercatly  encourage,  diffiise,  and  strengthen  virtue* 
If  vicious;  it  will  oecome  pestilential ;  and  spread  contagion,  de- 
cay, and  death,  through  all  around  him.  No  man  can  be  so  great 
a  blessing,  or  so  great  a  curse,  in  this  respect,  as  a  ruler :  and  the 
example  of  every  man  in  high  office  will  invariably  be  either  a 
public  curse,  or  a  public  blessing.  Jeroboam  and  Ahab  were  in- 
comprehensible curses  to  the  Israelites,  through  cveiy  succeeding 
age  of  their  national  existence.  What  man  of  common  sense,  in 
sach  an  alternative,  can  balance  a  moment  concerning  the  choice, 
which  he  shall  make  ? 

7.  Every  ruler,  vested  with  the  appointment  of  subordinate  officers^ 
w  under  indispensable  obligations  to  select  men  of  the  very  same  char^^ 
meter,  which  has  been  already  described* 

Moreover,  thou  shalt  provide,  said  Jethto  to  Moses,  out  of  all  the 
peepUj  able  men  ;  such  as  fear  God  ;  men  of  truth  ^  liating  covetouS'^ 
netf  ;  and  place  such  over  them,  to  be  rulers  of  thousands,  aiid  rul* 
er»  of  hundreds,  rulers  of  fifties,  and  nders  of  tens;  and  let  them 
judge  the  people  at  all  seasons.  Judges  and  ojjicers,  said  Moses  to 
the  Israelites,  shalt  thou  make  thee  in  all  thy  gales,  which  the  Lord 
ihf  God  giveth  thee  throughout  thy  tribes  ;  ana  they  shall  judge  the 
pt^le  with  just  judgment.  Thou  shalt  not  wrest  judgment ;  thou 
fkalt  not  respect  persons  ;  neither  take  a  gift;  for  a  gtft  doth  blind 
the  eyes  of  the  wise,  and  pervert  the  words  of  the  righteous.  Him^ 
says  David,  speaking  oi  this  very  subject,  him,  tluU  hath  an  high 
look,  and  a  proud  heart,  I  will  not  suffer.  Mine  eyes  shall  be  upon 
the  faithful  of  the  land;  that  they  may  dwell  with  me  ;  he  that  walk-' 
dA  in  a  perfect  way,  he  shall  serve  me.  He  that  worketh  deceit  shall 
not  dwell  within  my  house  ;  he  that  telleth  lies  shall  not  tarty  in  my 
oight.  These  passages  need  no  comment.  The  voice  of  God  has 
here  determined  this  point,  in  a  manner  which  cannot  be  misunder- 
stood. 

With  this  decision  exacdy  accords  that  of  Experience  and  that 
of  Common  sense.  Subordinate  officers  are  eyes,  and  ears,  and 
liands,  and  feet,  to  their  superiors  in  office.  They  are  the  means 
of  furnishing  them  with  the  most  necessary  information  ;  that  of 
the  wants^  circumstances,  dangers,  and  sufierings,  of  the  nation ; 
that  of  the  real  influence  of  governmental  measures,  whether  ben- 
e&cial  or  mischievous ;  and,  generally,  all  that,  on  which  future 
Regulations  ought  to  be  grounded.  They  are  the  immediate 
aieaos  of  executing  every  law,  and  carrying  into  effect  every 


'».»• 


334  OUTT  OF  FAR&NTS.  fSESL.  CZDL 

measure  of  administration.     Their  own  conduct,  example,  and 
influence,  reach  every  neighbourhood,  every  fireside,     ffations 
have  almost  almttis  sunered  incftinparably  more  from  a  multitude 
"^  of  little  tyrants,  than  from  a  single  great  one;  axid  have  been  im- 

\^  *        ^lensely  more  coniipted  by  a  host  of  evil  examples,  than  by  a  sol- 
itary pattern  of  wickedness,  however  great  and  splendid.     In  vain 
.^    .        will  tne  wisest,  most  upright,  and  most  benevolent  ruler,  labour  to 
S  promote  public  happiness ;  if  he  conunits  the  administration  of  his 

measojres  to  profligates  and  villains.  It  is,  however,  to  be  re- 
membered, that  a  ruler  will  of  course  appoint  to  subordinate  offi- 
ces, men,  mrbose  character  corresponds  with  his  own.  A  wise  and 
^  good  ruler,  so  far  as  his  information  extends,  will  choose  none 
bat  wise  and  eood  men,  to  aid  him  in  the  business  of  governiD^. 
A  bad  ruler  will  find  none  but  bad  assistants,  convenient  for  his 
purposes. 

8.  A  Ruler  is  under  the  highest  obligations  to  be  industrious* 
Industry  is  the  duty  of  all  men,'  and  pre-eminently  that  of  a  ruler. 
The  vaiiious,  complicated,  and  arduous  business  of  governing  de- 
mands the  full  exertion  of  all  the  talents,  and  the  full  employment 
of  all  the  time,  allotted  to  man.     Persons  in  high  offices,  particu- 
larly, are  bound  to  improve  their  talents  by  every  well-directed 
•efibrt.     They  are  under  indispensable  obligations  to  gsiin,  so  bi 
as  is  in  their  power,  the  most  enlarged,  and  exact,  information  of 
their  official  duties,  and  the  best  modes  of  discharging  them ;  of 
/the  interests  of  the  people,  and  country,  over  which  they  preside^ 
ko{  the  means,  by  which  their  rights  may  be  most  efifectually  secur- 
ed ;  of  the  dangers,  either  at  home,  or  abroad,  to  which  they  are 
•exposed,  and  of  the  ways,  in  which  those  dangers  may  be  avert- 
ed; of  the  b^st  means  of  private  safety,  and  national  defence; 
and,  in  a  w(^,  of  all  those  measures,  by  which  may  be  insured 
the  safety,  peace,  good  order,  and  universal  happiness,  of  the 
nation* 

On  this  information  ought  to  be  founded  a  course  of  unremitted 
.    industry  in  eflfectuating,  by  the  most  useful  measures,  all  these 
great  and  good  purposes.    A  weak  and  ignorant  ruler  may  de- 
serve pity :  a  lazy  one  can  only  merit  abhorrence.     Both  are,  of 
course,  public  nuisances.     When  God  was  about  to  punish  the 
Jews  in  a  terrible  manner,  for  their  sins,  he  announced  the  alarm- 
,'  ing  judgment  in  this  remarkable  prediction :  Behold  the  Lord,  ih 
Lord  oj  hosts  J  doth  take  away  from  Jerusalem,  and  from  Judak,  th 
stay  and  the  staffs  the  zohole  stay  of  bread,  and  the  whole  stay  of 
'■'  water ;  the  mighty  man,  and  the  man  of  war  ;  the  judge,  ana  tht 
'  prophet,  and  the  prudent,  and  the  ancient^  the  captain  of  fifty,  and 
,  tht  honourable  man,  and  the  counsellor,  and  the  cunning  artificer,  and 
the  eloquent  orator.     And  I  will  sive  children  to  be  their  princes  y  and 
babes  shall  rule  over  them.     And  the  people  shall  be  oppressed,  evtrj 
one  by  another j  and  every  one  by  his  neighbour.     The  child  shall  ie- 


X 


SEB.  GXDL] 


DOTT  OF  RULERS. 


SS5.  i.;. 


Aave  himself  proudly  against  the  andetUj  and  the  oase  against  the 
honourable.  In  the  view  of  God,  therefore,  thekMS  of  wise  and 
able  rulers,  and  the  government  of  weak  ajid  focmflh  ones,  such  as 
indolent  men  in  Qjfice  always  are,  are  both  terrible  judgments  upon 
a  nation,  and  severe  inflictions  of  the  divine  vengeance  il|x>a.  guill^ -• 
of  no  common  die. 


N 


v^  ; 


^. 


?ii .'. 


^  \p  '  •  ^ 


SERMON  CXIV. 

PtFTH  COMMANDMENT.^ — THE   DUTY   Or   8UBJXCTS. 


BioDOi  XX.  12. — Himour  thy  father  and  thy  mothttf  thai,  thy  day»  wum  ie  ham  flia 

th€  land  which  the  Lord  thy  Ood  gipelh  Uu€.  ^ 

In  the  last  discourse,  I  considered  at  some  length,  the  Dukf  ^ 
HultTu  I  shall  .now  go  on  to  examine  thai  of  SiAjecU.  As  a 
free  Government  is  that,  with  which  alone  we  nave  any  practical 
concern  ;  my  observations  will  be  especially  referred  to  a  govern- 
ment of  this  kind.  All  Subjects  have,  indeed,  rn^ny  duties  in 
common ;  but  there  are  some,  which  are  peculiar  to  men.  fiving 
under  despotic  dcmiinioa.  These  I  shall  not  think  it  necessary  to 
particularize. 

Every  free  eovemment  is  more,  or  less,  elective.    The  privi] 
of  choosing  those,  who  are  to  govern  them,  is,  to  every  pe< 

Eossessing  it,  a  blessing  of  inestimable  importance ;  and  like  ol 
lessings,  brings  with  it  the  corresponding  duties.    Out  of  it  pa^ 
ticularly  arises  the 

1  •  Ureat  duly  of  free  citizens  j  which  is  to  Elect  always  j  as  far  as 
may  be^  Riders j  possessing  the  several  characteristicsj  mtntioruiin 
the  preceding  discourse:  such  as  are  sincere;  just;  benevcrfent; 
disposed  to  respect  the  laws  of  Xheir  countrv ;  pious ;  ezemphiy; 
indusirious ;  and  thus  prepared  to  select  K)r  subordinate  offices, 
whenever  vested  with  the  power  of  selecting,  men  of  the  same 
character. 

That  such  Rulers  are  agreeable  to  the  Will  of  God ;  and  that 
he  has  required  all  Rulers  to  be  such;  cannot  be  questioned.  J!fo 
more  can  it  be  questioned,  that  one  great  reason,  why  He  has  re- 
quired them  to  pe  of  this  character,  is  the  establishment,  in  this 
way,  of  the  happiness  of  the  people,  whom  they  rule.  In  every 
orcfinance  of  this  nature,  God  has  directly  consulted  the  happiness 
of  his  creatures  ;  and  has  undoubtedly  chosen  the  very  best  means 
of  accomplishing  it.  The  establishment  of  national  hnppiness, 
then,  demands  indispensably,  that  Rulers  be  of  this  character. 
&ut  in  the  case  supposed,  the  people  themselves  elect  their  Rulers* 
Thoy  are  therefore  bound,  indispensably,  to  elect  such,  and  such 
only,  as  are  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God,  as  unfolded  in  his  Word; 
such,  and  such  only,  as  will  contribute  directly  to  the  establishment 
of  Piii^lic  happiness. 

Evrry  People  ought  to  remember,  that  in  this  ccwe,  the  marulro- 
cyis  of  their  opm  citation;  that  just  such  men  are  introduced*into 


8VIL  CXIV.]  TOE  DUTY  OF  SUBJECTS.  937 

it,  as  thej  please;  and  that,  if  tjhey  are  not  men  of  wisdom  an4 
Tirtue,  the  electors  are  the  sole  and  blameworthy  cause.  In  die 
very  act  of  electing  weak  and  wicked  men  to  places  of  magistra- 
cy, they  testify  publicly  to  God,  and  the  world,  that  they  choose  to 
have  weak  and  wicked  men  for  their  rulers.  All  the  evils  of  a  yeak 
and  wicked  administration  of  government  are,  therefore,  charge- 
able, in  the  first  instance,  and  in  Che  prime  degree,  to  themselves 
only.  By  what  solemn  obligations,  then,  ai*e  they  bound  to  take 
the  most  effectual  care,  that  those,  whom  they  elect,  be  men  of  ac- 
'..'Vnowledged  wisdom  and  virtue!  To  choose  men  of  the  contraiy 
character  is  to  rebel  against  the  known  Will  of  God ;  to  sport 
with  their  own  happiness ;  and  to  hazard  that  of  .their  posterity* 
The  only  part  of  tnis  subhct,  about  which  a  question  will  be  rais- 
ed, and  the  part,  about  wnich  no  question  can,  consistently  either 
with  the  Scriptures  or  Common  Sense,  be  ever  raised,  is  the  de- 
claration, tluU  a  Ruler  ought  to  he  a  virtuous  man.  To  the  ques- 
tion concerning  this  subject  the  scriptural  answer  is  short :  As  a 
roaring  /ton,  and  a  racing  bear  ;  so  is  a  wicked  Ruler  over  the  poor 
people.  This,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  is  the  decision,  not  of  00/9- 
mon  only,  but  of  God.  Common  sense,  directed  by  its  own  uner- 
ring rule  of  experience,  has  regularly  given  the  same  decision ; 
ana  mustered  before  the  eyes  01  mankind  a  long  host  of  tyrants 
and  public  plunderers,  of  profligate  legislators  and  abandoned 
magistrates,  whose  names  have  been  followed  by  the  hisses,  and 
loaded  with  the  execrations,  of  mankind.  Virtuous  Rulers,  on  the 
contrary,  have  always,  unless  in  times  of  peculiar  violence,  and 
prejudice,  been  seen,  and  acknowledged,  to  be  public  blessings. 
Indfeed,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  general  proposition,  now 
under  consideration,  was  ever  seriously  questioned  by  a  sober  man. 
All  the  doubts  concerning  it,  all  the  opposition  which  it  has  met 
with,  seem  to  have  arisen  in  seasons  01  party  and  dissension ;  frqm 
the  wish  U>  carry  some  favourite  point,  or  the  desire  of  advancing 
to  place  and  power  some  favourite  person. 

In  the  preceding  discourse,  I  have  illustrated  this  subject,  in  a 
aummary  manner,  from  the  political  history  ofJudah  andisraelj  r«- 
corded  m  the  Scriptures.  This  illustration,  corresponding  exactly 
with  every  other  of  the  same  nature,  and  in  the  light  and  convic- 
tion, whicn  it  conununicates,  totally  superior  to  them  all,  deserves 
lobe  resumed  in  this  place,  and  to  be  insisted  on  particularly: 
much  more  particularly,  indeed,  than  the  present  occasion  will 
permit.  Every  virtuous  prince  of  Judah  was  regularly  a  public 
Diessing ;  beloved  of  his  people ;  devoted  to  the  advancement, 
and  seoulously  engaged  in  employing  the  means  of  accomplishing 
the  actual,  and  extensive,  advancement,  of  their  happiness ;  the 
acknowledged  object  of  peculiar  Divine  favour ;  the  cause,  in  this 
manner,  for  which  peculiar  blessings  descended  on  lus  nation; 
and  the  honourable  instruinent  of  producing  a  sudden,  gcneraU  and 
ipiportant  reformation,  not  only  in  his  court,  but  throughout  his 
'  Vol.  hi.  43 


•• 


# 


338  ''^^  DUTY  OF  SUBJECTS.  fSOL  CXI?. 

kinedom.  Whenever  such  a  Prince  ascended  the  throne,  piety 
andmorality  immediately  lifted  up  their  heads,  and  began  to  find 
firiends  to*exert  their  influence^  to  abash  vice,  to  silence  murmors, 
to  diminish  sufierings,  and  to  create,  what  they  always  create, 
public  and  individual  happiness.  Such  Princes,  also,  regularly 
appointed,  so  far  as  it  was  in  their  power,  men,  resembling  them- 
selves, to  the  subordinate  offices  of  government ;  and  thus  station- 
ed public  benefactors  in. every  comer  of  their  country.  For  all 
these  reasons,  their  names,  as  a  sweet  memorial,  have  been  wafted 
down  the  stream  of  time  with  distinctio^i  and  honour,  and  have 
commanded  the  esteem  of  every  succeeding  gener^tioh.  Such 
Rulers  were  Moaesj  JoshuOj  Gideon^  Deborah^  Samuel^  David^  Sobh 
mon  before  his  declension,  Jehoshaphat  Hezekiah^  Josiah^  and  .ATc- 
hemiah.  Such,  also,  were  the  brave  and  virtuous  Maccahett.  I 
shall  only  add,  that  these  Rulers  strenuously  defended  the  coun- 
try; which  they  coverned. 

Take,  now,  the  reverse  of  this  picture.  The  wicked  Princes, 
to  whose  dominion  these  nations  were  at  times  subjected,  blasted 
both  their  virtue  and  their  happiness.  Ahaz^  Manasseh^  Amorij  and 
the  three  last  Kings  of  Judah^  were  malignant,  and  aif«  cting,  exam- 
ples of  this  truth.  Weak,  as  well  as  wicked,  these  Princes  rained 
their  people  at  home,  and  provided  no  means  for  their  defence 
against  enemies  abroad.  With  an  unobstructed,  and  terrible  ra- 
pidity, the  nation,  which  they  ruled,  slid  down  the  steep  pf  declen- 
sion^ and  plunged  suddenly  mto  the  gulf  at  the  bottom. 

Still  more  instructive  is  the  account,  giyen  us  concerning  the 
Kings  of  brael.  Of  Jeroboam^  the  first  of  these  princes,  the  most 
dreadful  of  all  characters  is  communicated  to  us  in  this  remarka- 
ble declaration  ;  that  he  sinned,  and  made  Israel  to  sin.  A  pol- 
luted, and  profligate  wretch  himself,  he  converted  all  around  him 
into  profligates ;  and  began  a  corruption  of  religion  and  morals, 
which,  extending  its  baleful  influence  through  every  succeeding 
age,  terminated  in  the  final  ruin  of  his  country.  The  evils  intro- 
duced by  him'  operated  with  a  commanding  and  universal  efficacy; 
and  they  were  cherished  and  promoted  by  Mtdab  his  son,  BaasM 
his  murderer,  Elah  his  son,  and  Zimri  his  murderer ;  and  by  Omri^ 
Ahabj  and  every  one  who  followed  them.  By  their  pestilential  ex- 
ample, and  under  their  deadly  influence,  the  nation  became  aban- 
doned. Truth,  Justice,  and  Piety,  sighed  their  last  farewell  to 
the  reprobated  race,  and  took  their  final  flight.  A  nuisance  to  the 
world,  and  an  object  of  the  Divine  abhorrence,  the  unhappy  na- 
tion became  lost  to  every  hope  of  recovery ;  and  was  finally  given 
up  as  a  prey  to  the  Assyrian  /  at  that  time  the  general  scourge, 
and  destroyer,  of  mankind. 

It  is  impossible  for  any  people,  with  its  eyes  open,  to  wish  for 
such  Rulers,  as  these.  When  it  is  remembered,  that  this  testi- 
mony concerning  evil  Rulers  is  the  testimony  of  God  Himself: 
that  the  same  causes  vrill  always  produce  the  same  effects ;  and 


,v 


SEB.  cxnr.] 


THE  DUTY  OF  SUBJECTS. 


339 


• 

that  evil  Rulers  were  no  more  injurious  to  Itrael^  th^  they  will  'he 
to  every  other  People,'  governed  by  them  4  it  is  plain,  that  no  peo- 
ple can  elect  iBuch  Rulers,  without  assuring  themselves,  that,  in  this 
eery  act,  they  are  accomplishing  their  own  iniin.  A  nation,  which 
elects  .wicked  Rulers,  it  ought  ever  to  be  r^niembered,  is  charge- 
able, not  only  with  the  ^uiU  of  being  corrupted,  as  Israel  was,  but 
irith  the  additional  and  peculiar  guilt,  also,  of  originating  the  means 
of  its  own  corruption,  it  not  only  becomes  wicked,  but  makes  itself 
wncked^  by  giving  to  evil  men  the  power  and  influence  which  (enable 
them  to  spread  the  plague  of  vice  through  every  part  of  the  poUti- 
calbody.  Whatman  of  common  sense,  and  sober  reflection,  can 
consent  to  make  himself  chargeable  with  these  evils  ? 

But  it  may  be  sa^d,  that  those,  who  elect,  will  often  be  unable  to 
distinguish  virtuous  men  from  such  as  are  not  virtuous.  I  answer, 
that  .Churches  of  Christ  are  also  unable  to  make  this  (discrimination 
widi  certainty ;  yet,  wherever  they  are  faithful  and  vigilant,  they 
find  no  serious  mfficulty  in  keening  themselves,  to  a  good  degree, 
pure,  and  safe  from  gross  and  unhappy  mixtures.  T  answer  iur- 
ther,  that  a  steady,  regular  aim,  ou  tne  part  of  a  whole  nation,  or 
otbef  body  politic,  to  choose  virtuous  Rulers,  and  none  but  such 
BUI  are  virtuous,  will  ordinarily  accompfish  this  invaluable  purpose. 
Should  it. fail  in  any  instance ;  the  nation  will  still  have  done  its 
3uty.  As  to  extreme  cases  ;  such  as  those,  in  which  no  virtuous 
man  can  be  found  to  fill  the  office  contemplated ;  they  must  occur 
BO  rarely,  as  hardly  to  require  rules  of  direction.  It  will  always 
be  in  the  power  of  a  people  to  select  from  th^  candidates  the  best 
man  ;  ana  such  a  selection  will  undoubtedly  answer  the  demands 
of  duty  in  a  case  of  this  nature.  The  true  difficulty  does  not  lie 
in  our  inability  to  determine  who  are  virtuous  men  ;  nor  in  their 
irant  of  the- proper  qualifications  for  office  ;  but  in  the  want  of  a 
fixed  and  general  determination  to  choose  them  ;  in  our  dfsfective 
estimate  of  the  importance  of  virtue  to  public  office  ;  in  our  pre- 
ference of  o/Aer  qualifications  to/ Ai^;  in  p&rty  attachment ;  inper- 
lonal  favouritism  ;  and  in  gross  and  guilty  indifference  to  the  rub- 
lie  Good.  .  All  these  are  deplorable  prejudices,  and  palpable 
orimes ;  miserably  weak,  as  well  as  dangerously  sinfiil ;  fraught 
•rith  innumerable  evils,  not  always  immediate,  perhaps,  but  always 
near,  certain,  and  dreadful. 

3.  Subjects  are  bound  faithfully  to  Obey  their  Rulers. 

Concerning  this  truth,  in  the  abstract^  there  will  probably  be  no 
debate,  except  what  is  excited  either  by  passion  or  by.  frenzy. 
The  only  serious  questions,,  which  can  rationally  be  made  here 
are:  How  far  is  this  obedience  to  extend?  and  What  are  the  cases^ 
in  which  it  may  be  lawfully  refused  ?  The  importance  of  these 
questions  must  be  deeply  felt  by  every  man.  tiy  St.  Paulj  every 
mnd  is  required  to  be  subject  to  the  higher  powers  ;  because,  as  he 
informs  us,  the  powers^  that  be^  are  ordainea  of  Godi  By  the  same 
Apostle  we  are  further  told,  that  whosoever  resisteth  the  power j  re* 


S' 


'M 


*• 


340  THE  MTT  OF  SUBJECTS.  pfiB.  CUT. 

sisteth  the  ordinance  of  Godj  and  skill  receive  to  himself  damnaiuM  } 
that  is,  not  damnation  in  the  proper  sense,  ot*  as  the  word  is  now 
understood,  but  the  condemnation,  denounced  by  the  law  of  God 
against  all  sin.  By  St.  Peter  we  are  directed  to  submit  to  ever/ 
ordinance  of  man,  for  the  Lord^s  sake :  whether  it  be  to  the  Ktngj  as 
Supreme;  or  tmto  Governors,  that  is,  generally,  to  all  persons  pos- 
sessing lawful  authority ;  for  such,  he  declares,  tr  the  will  of  God. 
With  these  precepts  m  Ms  hand,  no  Christian  can  fail  to  believe 
the  questions,  mentioned  above,  to  be  of  incalculable  importance 
to  him,  and  his  fellow-men.  It  is  as  really  the  duty  of  a  Minister 
to  explain  this  part  of  the  Gospel  to  his  congregation,  and  to  en- 
force upon  them  these  precepts,  as  any  other.  Nor  can  he  be  at 
all  excused  in  passing  tnem  by.  I  shall,  therefore,  exhibit  toyoa, 
on  the  presetit  occasion,  my  own  views  concerning  this  long,  and 
vehemently  disputed  topic. 

In  the  first  place :  Subjects  are  not  hound  to  obey  the  commandi  of 
magistrates,  as  such,  when  they  are  not  warranted  bv  IMw. 

The  law  creates  magistrates;  and  defines  all  their  powers,  and 
rights.  Whenever  they  require  that,  which  is  not  warranted  by 
law,  they  cease  to  act  as  magistrates ;  and  return  to  the  character 
of  mere  citizens.  In  this  character  they  have  plainly  no  authority 
over  their  fellow-citizens.  It  is  not  the  man,  out  the  magistrate, 
whom  God  requires  us  to  obey. 

Secondly.  Subjects  are  hound  to  ohey  magistrates,  when  acting 
agreeably  to  the  laws,  in  all  case^  not  contrary  to  the  toiUofOod,  n 
unfolded  in  the  Scriptures. 

This  I  take  to  be  the  true  import  of  the  directions,  given  by  SL 
Pc/cr  and  St.  Paul.  These  Apostles  cannot,  I  think,  be  rationally 
supposed  to  enjoin  upon  subjects  obedience  to  those  commands  of 
a  Kuler,  which  contravene  the  laws  of  the  land;  or  which  lie  be* 
yond  the  limits  of  his  lawful  authority.  They  require  our  obedi- 
ence to  the  magistrate,  acting  as  a  magistrate,  or  within  the  limits 
of  his  lawful  authority;  and  not  to  the  magistrate,  transgressing 
the  bounds  of  law,  and  acting,  merely  as  a  private  individual,  ac- 
cording to  the  dictates  of  his  own  discretion,  caprice,  or  whim. 
Much  less  can  thev  be  supposed  to  require  our  obedience  to 
those  commands  of  a  Ruler,  which  are  opposed  to  the  Law  of 
God.  Whether  we  should  obey  God  rather  than  men,  can  never 
be  seriously  made  a  question  by  Common  sense,  any  more  than  by 
Pietv. 

There  may  be,  there  often  are,  cases,  in  which,  from  motives  of 
prudence  and  expediency,  we  may  feel  ourselves  bound  to  obey 
magistrates,  for  the  time  at  least,  when  acting  beyond  their  au- 
thority, and  aside  from  law.  This  subject  is  too  extensive,  to  be 
particularly  considered  on  the  present  occasion.  I  shall  only  ob- 
serve, therefore,  that  we  are  bound  to  fix  in  our  minds  a  high  sense 
of  the  duty,  and  importance,  of  obeying  rulers  ;  and  of  the  dan- 
ger, alwajj^i  threatening  the  public  peace,  and  prosperity,  ttok 


t 


SER.  CXIV.]  THE  DUTT  OF  SITBIECTS.  34I 

unnecessary  disobedience.  Such  a  sense  will,  it  is  believed, 
prevent  most  of  the  real  difficulties,  to  be  apprehended  in  cases 
of  this  nature. 

The  observations,  already  made  concerning  this  general  subject, 
will  prepare  the  way  for  settling  our  opinions  concerning  a  par- 
ticular Question,  involved  in  it,  which  is  of  high  importance  to  man- 
kind. It  is  this :  Whether  a  nation  is  warranted  to  resist  Rulers^ 
when  seriously  encroaching  on  its  liberties  ?  It  is  my  intention  to 
confine  the  answer,  which  will  now  be  given  to  this  question,  to 
lAe  Ittwfidness  of  such  resistance.  The  expediency  of  it,  1  shair  sup- 
pose to  be  granted ;  so  far  as  the  safety,  and  success,  of  the  re- 
sistance is  concerned.  In  other  words,  I  shall  suppose  the  People, 
immediately  interested  in  the  question,  to  have  as  fair  an  oppor- 
tunity, as  can  be  reasonably  expected,  of  preserving,  or  acquiring 
political  liberty ;  and  of  establishing,  after  the  contest  is  ended, 
a  free  and  happy  government.  In  this  case,  the  resistance  in 
question  is,  in  my  own  view,  warranted  by  the  Law  of  God.  It 
is  well  known,  that  this  opinion  has  been  adopted  by  some  wise 
and  good  men,  and  denied  by  others.  But  the  reasons,  alleged 
by  both  classes  for  their  respective  doctrines,  have,  so  far  as  they 
have  fallen  under  my  observation,  been  less  satisfactory,  than  I 
wished., 

A  nation,  already  free,  ought,  whenever  encroachments  upon 
its  freedom  are  begun,  to  reason  in  some  such  manner,  as  the  fol- 
lowing : 

^'  Despotism^  according  to  the  universal  and  uniform  experience 
of  man,  has  regularly  been  fatal  to  every  human  interest.  It  has 
attacked  private  happiness,  and  invaded  public  prosperity.  It 
has  multiplied  sufferings  without  number,  and  beyond  degree.  It 
has  visited,  regularly,  the  nation,  the  neighbourhood,  and  the  fire- 
side ;  and  carried  with  it  public  sorrow,  and  private  anguish.  Per- 
sonal Liberty  has  withered  at  its  touch ;  and  national  safety, 
peace,  and  prosperity,  have  faded  at  its  approach.  Enjoyment 
nas  fled  before  it;  lite  expired;  and  hop^  vanished.  Evils  of 
this  magnitude  have  all  been  suffered,  also,  merely  to  gratify  the 
caprice,  the  pride,  the  ambition,  the  avarice,  the  resentment,  or 
the  voluptuousness,  of  one,  or  a  few,  mdividuals ;  each  of  whose 
interests  is  of  the  same  value  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  no  more, 
than  those  of  every  other  individual  belonging  to  the  nation. 
Can  there  be  a  reason ;  do  the  Scriptures  furnish  one  ;  why  the 
millions  of  the  present  generation,  and  the  more  numerous  mil- 
lions of  succeeding  generations,  should  suffer  these  evils,  merely 
to  gratify  the  lusts  of  ten,  twenty,  orotic  hundred,  of  their  fellow- 
men  ?" 

*'  If  an  affirmative  answer  should  be  given  to  this  question  ;  let 
it  be  remembered,  that  the  same  despotic  pomer  has,  tnth  equal  reg^ 
fdarity,  cut  off  from  subjects  the  means  of  usefuhuss  and  duty* 
•Mankind  are  sent  into  the  world,  to  serve  God  U$^do  good  tp 


rr.. 


^  241^  iMt:  -oon  OF  SUBJECTS.  [SKR.  cn?. 

each  other.  If  tlhese  things  are  not  done ;  we  live  in  vain,  and 
worse  than  in  vain.  If  the  means  of  doing  them  are  taken  away; 
we  are  prevented,  just  so  far,  from  answering  the  end  of  our  crea- 
tion. In  vain  is  mental  and  bodily  energy,  in  vain  are  talents,  op- 
portunities, and  privileges,  bestowed  by  our  Creator,  if  they  are 
to  be  wrested  from  us  by  our  fellow-men  ;  or  the  means  of  exert- 
ing, them  taken  away.  In  vain  are  we  constituted  Parents,  if  we 
are  precluded  fipom  procuring  the  comfortable  sustenance,  pro- 
viding for  the  education,  and  promoting  the  piety  and  salvation,  of 
our  onspring.  In  vain  are  we  made  children,  if  we  are  forbidden 
to  perform  the  filial  duties.  In  vain  are  we  placed  in  the  other 
relations  of  life,  if  we  are  prohibited  from  performing  the  duties, 
to  which  they  give  birth.  Take  away  usefulness  from  man ;  and 
there  is  nothing  left,  which  is  good;  biit  every  thing  which  is  bad. 
This  usefulness,  however.  Despots  have  in  a  dreadful  manner 
either  prevented,  or  destroyed.  They  have  shrunk  the  talents, 
and  palsied  the  energy,  of  the  mind  ;  have  shut  the  door  of  knowl- 
edge, and  blocked  up  the  path  of  virtue  ;  have  wilted  the  human 
race  into  sloth  and  imbecility,  and  lowered  the  powers  of  man 
•  almost  to  the  level  of  brutism.  The  little  spot  of  Greece  exhibited 
more  energy,  and  more  specimens  of  mental  greatness,  in  one  hun- 
dred and  nfty  years,  than  the  Chinesian  World  has  exhibited  in  two 
thousand." 

^'  But  this  is  not  all.  Despotic  Rulers  have  exercised  a  most  mor 
lignant  influence  upon  the  Virtue  of  mankind.  They  have  assum- 
ed the  prerogatives  of  Heaven ;  and  prescribed  as  the  will  of  God, 
a  system  of  religious  doctrines,  and  duties,  to  their  subjects. 
This  system  has  invariably  been  absurd,  gross,  and  monstrous. 
The  Morality,  which  it  has  enjoined,  has  been  chiefly  a  code  of 
crimes,  fitter  for  the  regulation  of  banditti,  than  of  sober  men. 
The  Religion,  which  it  has  taught,  has  been  a  scheme  of  impiety. 
Yet  this  system  they  have  enforced  by  the  most  terrible  penalties; 
by  the  loss  of  property,  libeHy,  and  life ;  by  the  gaol  and  d» 

fibbet,  the  wheel  and  the  rack,  the  faggot  ana  the  cross.     Blood 
as  stained  the  sceptre ;  martyrs  have  surrounded  the  throne.'' 
"Even  this  is  not  all.     Despots,  bad  men  themsehesy  must  be 
served  by  bad  men.     The  baleful  and  deleterious  influence  of  the 
head  and  the  members  united,  has  extended  every  where ;  even  to 
the  corner  and  the  cottage  ;  and,  like  the  deadly  damp  of  the  cav- 
ern, has  imperceptibly,  and  silently,  extinguished  lignt,  and  life, 
wherever  it  has  spread.     Virtue  has  fallen  amid  the  exhalation, 
unobserved  and  unknown.     In  its  place  has  arisen,  and  flourished, 
a  train  of  monstrous  corruptions,  which,  with  continually  increas- 
ing strength,  have  finally  gained  an  entire  possession  oi  the  land. 
Degenerated  beyond  recaill,  and  polluted  beyond  hope,  a  peoplei 
under  this  influence,  has  sunk  into  remediless  ruin;  and  only  con- 
tinued to  exist,  until  Mercy  was  wearied  out  by  their  profligacyi 
tad  reluctantly  gave  the  sign  for  Vengeance  to  sweep  them  awiff* 


1      » 


SER,  CXrV  ]  THE  DUTY  OF  SUBJECT&  343 

One  regular  and  complete  example  of  all  these  evils  is  eiven  us  by 
the  voice  of  God  Himself  in  the  kingdom  of  Arae/.  rrofano  his- 
tory records  a  multitude.  Is  there  any  principle,  either  scrijitural, 
or  rational,  which  demands  of  any  nation  such  a  sacrifice  ?" 

"  But^  were  we  to  admit,  that  such  a  sacrifice  might  lawfully  be 
made  by  us,  so  far  as  ourselves  only  are  concerned^  it  is  further  to 
be  remembered,  that  we  are  entrusted  with  all  the  possessions^  priwi' 
leges^  blessings^  and  hopes^  of  our  offst/ring  through  every  succeeding 
generation.  Guardians  appointed  oy  God  himself,  how  can  we 
fail  of  discharging  punctiliously  this  sacred  trust?  The  deposit  is 
of  value,  literally  immense.  It  involves  the  education,  the  com- 
fort, the  safety,  the  usefulness,  the  religious  system,  the  morals,  the 
.  piety,  and  the  eternal  life  of  millions,  which  can  neither  be  known 
nor  calculated.  This  is  a  trust,  which  cannot  lawfully  be  given 
up,  unless  in  obedience  to  a  known  and  unquestionable  command  ' 
of  God :  and  no  such  command  can  be  pleaded.  Equally  impor- 
tant is  it,  that  we  prevent,  (for,  under  God,  none  but  we  can  pre- 
vent) the  contrary  innumerable  and  immeasurable  evils." 

"  At  the  same  time,  it  is  ever  to  be  remembered,  that,  under  a 
free  government,  all  the  blessings,  which  I  have  mentioned,  so 
for  as  they  are  found  in  the  present  world,  live  and  prosper. 
Such  a  government  is  the  soil  and  the  climate,  the  rain  and  the 
sunshine  of  human  good.  Despotism,  on  the  contrary,  is  the 
combined  drought  and  sterility  of  Kubia^  the  frost  and  darkness 
of  Zembla  ;  amid  which,  virtue,  comfort,  and  safety,  tan  never 
spring." 

With  these  considerations  in  view,  It  is  unquestionably  evident 
to  me,  that  nations  arc  bound,  so  far  as  it  is  possible,  to  maintain 
their  fireedom,  and  to  resist  every  serious  encroachment  upon  it, 
with  such  efforts,  as  are  necessary  for  its  preservation. 

Thirdly.  Subjects  are  bound  to  obey  Every  Magistrate j  acting  law* 
yU/fy,  in  the  same  manner. 

The  Constable  and  Tithing-man  are,  in  their  own  sphere,  as  tru- 
ly armed  with  the  authority  of  the  State,  as  the  Governor  and  the 
rrince  :  and  the  Divine  Command  is.  Submit  to  every  ordinance  of 
majij  that  is,  to  governmental  authority  in  every  department,  for 
the  Lord^s  sake.  To  resist  Rulers  in  high  stations  may  be  produc- 
tive of  more  mischief  than  to  resist  those  in  low  ones.  In  other 
respects  the  guilt  of  the  resistance  is  the  same. 
3.  Subjects  are  bound  to  Honour  their  Rulers. 
TTiey  are  bound  to  treat  them  with  all  the  becoming  marks  of  re* 
spect  and  reverence.  Rulers,  when  treated  with  little  external  re- 
spect, will  soon  cease  to  be  respected. 

They  are  bound  to  support  them  honourably.  This  is  one  of  the 
few  doctrines,  in  which  all  ages,  and  nations  have  united.  Avarice 
alone  has,  in  any  case,  prompted  men  to  believe  the  contrary  doc- 
tnike^  or  hindered  them  from  carrying  thi$  into  proper  ejiecutioB. . 


344  .  T^^  DUTY  OF  SUBJfECra  [SER.  CXSf. 

An  honourable  support  to  Rulers  is  that,  Which  the  general  sense 
of  propriety  pronounces  to  be  of  this  nature. 

Subjects  are  bound  also  to  Speak  Resptctfidly  of  their  Rulin. 
On  this  subject  it  will  be  necessary  to  oe  somewhat  more  par- 
ticular. 

Thou  shalt  not  speak  evil  of  the  Ruler  of  thv  People j.  is  certainly 
a  precept,  dictated  by  Reason,  as  well  as  Revelation.  Still,  it 
cannot,  I  think,  be  denied,  that  the  faulty  of  Rulers  are,  on  certain 
occasions,  to  be  exposed,  as  well  as  those  of  private  individuals. 
The  Prophets  frequently  exposed  the  faults  of  their  Rulers  ;  and 
Christ  and  his  Apostles,  those  of  the  magistrates  of  their  day.  The 
question.  When  and  in  what  manner  this  may  be  done  by  us,  be- 
comes, therefore,  a  serious  topic  of  investigation. 

Concerning  this  subject  the  following  thoughts  have  occurred 
to  me. 
.    First.  Censures  of  Riders^  in  order  to  be  lawfulymust  be  true* 

Secondly.  There  must  be  a  real  and  solid  reason  for  tdtering 
them* 

It  is  not  enough,  that  a  Ruler  has  done  evil.  In  order  to  be  jus- 
tified in  publishing  it,  we  mUst  be  assured,  that  some  important 
good  will,  with  high  probability,  spring  from  tHe  publication.  The 
evil,  arising  from  this  source,  is,  in  the  abstract,  alwaiys  real  and 
important.  Where  there  is  no  good,  sufficiently  probable,  and  suf- 
ficiently important,  to  balance  this  evil,  we  cannot  be  vindicated  in 
bringing  it  into  existence. 

TliiixJly.   fVe  must  sincerely  aim  at  doing  this  good* 

A  watchful  and  faithful  determination  of  this  kind,  accompanied 
by.  a  scrupulous  and  conscientious  sense  of  its  high  importance,  as 
a  part  of  our  duty,  will  ordinarily  preserve  us  from  the  danger  of 
transgression.  He,  who  in  the  prqper  and  Evangelical  m^ner 
^vhas  formed  such  a  determination,  and  made  it  an  habitual  part  of 
his  character,  will  almost  always  perform  his  duty  with  respect  to 
this  subject ;  and  rarely,  or  never,  censure  a  Ruler,  unless  on 
solid  grounds.  * 

Fourthly.  Such  censures  slwuldin  all  ordinary  cases  be  uttered  in 
the  language  of  Moderation,  and  ndt  of  Invective,  or  Ridictde. 

A  "great  part  of  the  evils,  done  in  this  way,  flow  from  the  Mm- 
ner,  in  which  the  Censure  is  conducted.  Where  this  is  sober  and 
temperate,  there  is  usually  little  room  to  fear.  Where  it  is  not, 
the  Censureris  always  exposed  to  the  danger  of  Criminality. 

4.  Subjects  are  bound  to  Defend  their  Rulers* 

This  duty  equally  includes  opposition  to  private  and  civil  vio- 
lence, and  resistance  to  open  hostility ;  and  is  so  obvious  and 
acknowledged,  as  to  need  no  illustration.  In  defending  their 
Rulers,  subjects  are  only  employed  in  ultimately  defending  them- 
selves. 

5.  Subjects  are  bound  to  furnish  all  necessary  stgpjdies/or  the  ix« 
igencee  of  Government. 


JTor  ^Aif  cati^e,  says  SU  Paulj  that  is, /or  conacimee  nAt^  j)ay  y$ 
itSmte  aUc^  For  thty^  that  is,  Rulers,  are  God^s  ministers  ;  attend^ 
ing  continually  upon  this  very  thing*  Render^  therefore^  to  allj 
their  dues  ;  tribute  to  whom  trilnUe  is  due,  and  custom  to  whom 
custom.  Taxes  ai^,  ordinarily,  the  only  national  supplies*  Ev- 
ery public  object,  almost,  demands  some  expense ;  in  peac^ 
not  a  little ;  in  war  much  more.  If  the  necessary  supplies  be  * 
not  furnished ;  these  objects  must  either  languish,  (»:  fail.  God 
has,  therefore)  wisely  and  benevolently  required  mankind  to 
render  tribute  and  custom,  when  lawfully  demanded.  It  is  to  be 
remembered,  that  this  requisition  is  made  by  Infinite  authority:; 
and  can  no  more  be  dispensed  with,  than  any  other  command  or 
Opd. 

6.  Suhjuts  are  bomid  to  Pray  for  their  Rulers. 

To  the  performance  of  this  duty  no  virtnons  subject  can  €V€t 
want  motives.     The  arduous  nature  of  those  duties,  to  which  Rnl* 
ers  are  called;  the  responsibility  of  their  stations ;  the  difficulties- 
which  they  have  to  encounter ;  and  the  discouragements,  under  * 
which  they  labour;  te^ch  us  in  the  strongest  manner,  that  they 
daily,  and  eminently,  need  the  Divine  Blessing.     This  blessing,. 
fike  aH  others,  will  be  given  only  in  answer  to  prayer:  to  the 
Prayers,  indeed,  of  the  Rulers  themselves ;  and  still  more  to  the 
united  prayiers  of  both  Rulers  and  people.    Mere  benevolence 
then^  mere  compassion  for  men,  struggling  with  peculiar  difficul- 
ties in  their  behalf,  demands  this  duty  From  subjects. 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  loudly  called  for  by  the  regard,  which  we 
owe  to  the  Public  Welfare.  National  blessings  are  given  in 
answer  to  national  prayers.  Of  these  blessings  Rulers  are  the 
chief  instruments.  But  they  cannot  be  the  means  of  good  to 
a  nation,  unless  their  efforts  are  crowned  with  the  Divine  bless* 
ing.  If  nations,  then,  would  receive  public  blessings;  tky  ape 
bound,  indispensably,  to  supplicate  for  their  Rdlers  the  fe'VUir 
of  God. 

Finally.  God  has  required  such  prayers  at  our  hands.    lexhort^ . 
therefore,  says  St.  Paul,  that  first  oj  all,  supplications,  prayers,  tn- 
tercessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be  made  for  all  men:  for  kings j. 
and  for  all  that  are  in  authority,  that  we  may  lead  a  quiet  andpeace* 
able  life  in  all  godliness  and  honesty  ;  for  this  is  good  and  accespta^ 
hie  in  the  sight  of  God  our  Saviour. 

The  only  remark,  which  I  shall  annex  to  this  discourse,  is;; 
that,  connected  with  the  preceding  one,  it  shows,  unanswerably,  the 
gr&undlessness  and  folly  of  an  observation,  repeated  proverbially  ly 
multitudes  of  men  in  this  and  other  countries,  viz.  that  <<  Iteligienf 
has  nothing  to  do  with  Politics,  or,  m  other  words,  with  Govern'^ 
ment.^^ 

These  discourses,  summarily  as  the  subjects  of  them  have  beeo 
€X>nsidered,  prove  beyond  all  reasonable  debate,  that  th6  whole 
vindicable  conduct  of  Rulers  towards  their  Subjects,  and  oif  Sub* 
Vol.  III.  44 


•  ■ 


34(t  Ttt  DUTY  Of ,J|pWKCT8.  {SKELCJJf. 

m 

jects  towiards  their  Rukrs^  is  nothing  but  a  mere  collection  of  da- 
t'  ties,  objects  of  moral  obligation,  required  by  God,  and  indispen- 
sably owed  to  Him .  by  men.  The  Christian  Reli^fjm  theretore, 
the  rule  of  all  duty,  and  involving  all  moral  obli^tibn,  is  so  &r 
ctopn  having  nothing  to  do  with  this  subject,  that  it  is  inseparably 
ini  erwoyen  with  every  part  of  it.  Accordingly,  the  Bible  regulates, 
ttoa«  werelt  not  sinfully  prevented  from  its  proper  iniluenpe,  would 
exactly  and  entirely  control,  all  the  political  doctrines,  and  actions 
of  men.  It  is  indeed  as  easy,  and  as  common,  to  deny  truth  and 
f^fuse  to  perform  our  duty,  to  disobey  Ood and  injure  men,  inpo- 
lltical  concerns,  as  in  any  other.  In  trutk,  there  bas  been  no  neU 
«of  iniquity,  more  extensive  than  this :  none,  in  which  more  eno^ 
mous  crimes,  or  more  terrible  sufferings,  have  existed.  All  these 
•  crimes,  ^nd  sufferings,  have  sprung  from  the  ignorance,  or  the  dis- 
'•^  k>bedience,  of  the  iM^riptures.  Were  <&ey  allowed  to  govern*  the 
political  .conduct  of  mankind ;  both  the  crimes,  and  the  suffering, 
would  vanish;  eVery  duty  both  of  Rulers  and  jsubjects  would  M 
|)erformed ;  and  every  interest  would  be  completely  secured.  In 
what  manner  the  doctrine  against  which  I  am  contending^  ever 
<:ame  to  be  received  by  any  man,  who  was  not  peculiarly  weak, 
•or  wicked,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  determine.  It  would  seem,  {pat  evoi 
•the  careless  and  gross  examination  of  the  most  heedless  reflector 
I  must  have  evinceid  both  its  folly  and  falsehood.  A  dream  is  not 
more  unfounded :  the  decisions  of  frenzy  are  not  more  wild*  To 
villains  in  power,  or  in  pursuit,  of  power,  office,  and  public  plunder, 
lit  istundoubtedly  a  most  convisnient  doctrine;  as  it  will  quiet  the 
ifeprbaches  of.conscien*  e,  where  conscience  has  not  ceased  to  re- 
iproacrr-  :  and  throw  the  gate,  which  opens  to  every,  crime,  and  scl- 
^sn  ^'-^nfication,  from  it^  hinges.  To  Subjects,  to  a  State,  to  a 
l^jihiM,  t  is  literal!)  fatal  The  people  which  have  adopted  it, 
imay  o«  c  t*rtainly  f  t>>nounu-d  to  have  bidden  a  final  adieu  to  iti 
peace  a^h  <tsitfipp  ..r-bs,  !tsvj«*tue  and  its  safety. 


• . 


■  %v 


f 


J\  ■  ■ 


?  SERMON  CXV. 

SIXTH   COMMANDMENT. — ^KILLING  ;  WHEN   LAWrttL|  AND  WHJ 

UNLAWrUL*  > 


In  the  five  preceding  discourses,  I  have  considered  summarily . 
several  ckuses  of  duHeSj  involved  in  the  Jifth  Command.  Had! 
no  other  object  before  me,  beside  the  examination  of  this  precept,^ 
I  should  feel  mjrself  obliged  to  investigate,  also,  (he  mutual  duties 
of  men  in  various  other  relations  of  life ;  particularly  those  of  hus- 
bands and  wives,  masters  and  servants,  tninister^  and  their  con- 
gregations. All  these,,  together  with  the  duties  of  firiends  and 
neighbours,  6{  the  aged  and  the  youne,  are,  I  think,  obviouslv  in- 
cluded ig  this  precept ;  and  are  of  sufficient  importance  to  claim, 
not  only  a  discussion,  but  a  more  extensive  and  minute  investigation, 
than  I  have  dven  to  those,  already  examined.  But  a  Work  of 
tlus  nature,  although  it  may  seem  large,  must  necessarily  be  com- 
pendious. The  field  is  too  vast  even  to  be  wandered  over  By  any 
single  effort ;  and  many  parts  of  it  must  be  left  unexplored  by 
anytraveller. 

The  command,  which  is  given  us  in  the  text,  is  expressed  in  the 
most  absolute  manner :  Thou  shall  not  kill.  7\>  kilt^  is  the  thing 
forbiddep ;  and  by  the  words  it  is  forbidden  in  all  cases  whatever. 
Whenever  we  kill  any  living  creature,  therefore,  we  are  guilty  of  a 
transgression  of  this  command;  unless  we  are  pstaittea  to  take 
away  the  life  in  question  6y  an  excepiionj  which  Ood  Himself  htts 
made  to  the  rule. 

This  consideration  of  the  absolute  imiversality  of  the  command 
in  the  text  ought  invariably  to  be  remembered  in  dl  our  comments 
up6n  it.  These,  it  is  ever  to  be  remembered,  are  the  words,  which 
God  Himself  has  chosen.    They  accord,  therefore,  with  the  dic- 
tates of  Infinite  Wisdom  concerning  this  subject ;  and  bind  us  with 
^Infinite  authority.     Man  cannot  alter  them.    Man  cannot  lawfully 
originate  an  exception  to  them,  nor  in  any  other  manner  limit  their 
jMort.     Every  comment  upon  them  must,  of  course,  be  derived 
from. the  words  themselves ;  or  from  other  precepts ;  or  firom  com- 
ments on  this  precept,  found  in  otfa(|r  parts  of  the  Scriptures.    At 
'  the  same  time,  a  scrupulous  attentioa  to  the  words  themselves  will, 
if  I  mistake  not,  remove  several  difficulties  concerning  this,  subject, 
and  contribute  not  a  litde  towards  settling,  finally,  some  important 
doctrines  of  Morality* 


348  KILLINGS  WHEN  LAWFUL,  JBKBL  CXf. 

In  ezaioiDing  this  subject  I  shall  endeavour  to  point  out, 

L  7%o«e  instances  in  which  life  fnav  be  lawfully  taken  awoy,  ogrt^ 
My  to  scriptural  exceptions  under  this  law  ; 

II.  Same  of  those  instances j  in  which  life  is  destroyed  in  contnh 
diction  to  this  law* 

L  /  shall  mention  those  instances^  in  which  life  may  be  btwftdfy 
taken  away  under  scriptural  exceptions  to  this  law. 

1.  The  life  of  Animals  msif/  be  lawfully  taken  away  in  h»o  cases: 
when  they  are  necessary  for  war  food;  and  when  they  art  hostile  and 
dangerous  to  us* 

In  Genesis  ix.  3,  God  said  to  Noah  and  his  sonSy  Every  thing  tkU 
moveth  shall  be  meat  for  you :  even  as  the  green  herb  have  I  gipsm 
you  ail  things.  That  this  permission  was  QKessary  we  know,  be- 
cause it  was  given.  But  it  it  was  necesssuy  f  men  nad^  right  to 
eat  the  flesh  of  animals  before  it  was  givcm*  The  »ame  ttung  ii 
evident,  also,  from  the  terms  of  the  permission,  Even  as  the  grem 
herb  have  I  given  you  all  things.  If  God  gave  men  all  things,  that 
is,  all  anfanaL,  to  be  their  food ;  then  men  have  no  original,  natural, 
or  previous  right  to  use  them  for  food.  Accordingly,  the  Antediluvi- 
ans, abandon^  as  they  were,  appear,  plainly,  never  to  have  eaten 
animal  food.  Jfoah  and  his  descendants  be^n  this  practic^  udder 
this  permission.  Here  is  found  the  only  right  of  mankindf  to  this 
food.  Animals  belonsed  originally,  ana  solely,  to  their  Creator. 
We,  therefore,  could  nave  no  right  to  their  lives,  unless  He,  who 
alone  possessed  that  right,  had  transfeirec^it  to  us. 

From  these  observations  it  is  plain,  thai  Infidels,  who  deny  the 
Divine  revelation  of  the  Scriptures,  can  plead  no  right  to  eat  the 
flesh  of  animals.  The  only  being,  who  can  possibly  communi- 
cate this  right  to  us,  is  God :  since  He  is  the  only  Being,  who  pos- 
sesses the  right  to  dispose  of  them.  But  God  has  no  where  com- 
municated this  right  to  mankind,  unless  He  has  done  it  iothe 
Scri  I  )tures.  But  this  communication  they  deny  to  have  been  made ; 
and  are,  therefore,  without  any  warrant  for  the  use  of  animal  fi)od« 
Nov  can  they  ever  make  use  of  it,  without  contravening  the  dic- 
tates of  a  good  conscience,  and  violating  the  plainest  principles  of 
justice  and  humanity. 

The  arguments,  by  which  Infidels  have  endeavoured  to  defend 
this  conduct  in  themselves,  are,  in  mv  view,  miserable  fetches 
of  a  disingenuous  mind,  struggling  hard  to  justify  itself  in  a  prec* 
tice.  which  it  is  loth  to  give  up ;  and  not  the  honest  reasons  of  fiur 
con\  irtion.  They  are  these.  ''  It  is  the  analogy  of  nature,  that 
the  stronger  should  prey  upon  the  weaker:  that  we  feed  animalSf 
and  have,  therefore,  a  right  to  their  lives,  and  their  flesh,  as  a  re- 
tribution for  our  kindness  to  them:  and  that,  if  we  did  not  destroy 
them,  tliey  would  multiply  in  such  a  manner,  as  ultimately  to  de- 
stroy «*. 

These  reasons  are  characteristically  suited  to  the  mouth  of  a 
wolf  or  a  tiger;  but  proceed  with  a  very  ill  grace  frqm  the  moulh 


IS&CZF.]  iND  WHEN  UNLAWIXTL.  349 

of  a  fnan.    Were  a  savage,  of  supgrior  force,  to  attack  an  Infidel, 

Slunder  his  property,  and  destroy  his  Ufe,  in  order  to  cmir^rt  his 
esh  into  food ;  andf  were  he,  beforehand,  to  allege,  as  the  justify- 
ing reason  for  this  conduct,  that  it  was  the  analogy  of  nature  vxt 
the  stronger  to  prey  upon  the  weaker;  the  argument,  it  is  be- 
lieved, would  scarcely  satisfy  the  Infidel.    Were  the  Ox  endued 
with  speech,  he  might  unanswerably  reply  to  the  allegation,  drawn, 
from  the  kindness  of  men  to  oxen,  that  their  labour  was  an  ample 
compensation  for  their  food ;  and  that  men  fed  them  for  their  own 
benefit,  and  not  theirs.    With  respect  to  the  third  argument,  he 
might  ask,  without  fearing  any  reply :  Where,  and  when,  did  oxen 
ever  multiply  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  become  dangerous  to  -man- 
.Idnd?    If  Infidels  can  be  satisfied  with  these  arguments  for  the 
use  of  flesh ;  we  can.no  longer  wonder,  that  they  are  e(}ually  well 
.  satisfied  with  similar  arguments  against  the  Kevelation  of  the 
.  Scriptures. 

Tne  truth  is ;  they  are  not  thus  satisfied  with  either  'the  one 
or  the  other.  Inclination,  and  not  conviction,  is,  probably,  the 
-  source  of  their  conduct  in  both  cases.  Were  they  as  scrupu- 
lous, as  all  men  ou^ht  to  be ;  they  would,  like  the  Hindoos,  and 
even  the  Antediluvians,  abstain  entirely  from  eatmg  the  flesh  of 
animals. 

Animals,  hostile  and  dangerous  to  men,  God  has  not  only  permit- 
ted, but  commanded,  us  to  put  to  death ;  at  least  whenever  they 
'  have  intentionally  destroyed  human  life.     In  Genesis  ix.  be  sjblvs 
to  Noah  and  his  Children,  Surely  your  blood  of  your  livesj  wilt  1 
•  require  ;  at  the  hand  of  every  beast  will  I  reauire  U  ;  arid  at  the  hand 
>  of  man.    Agreeably  to  this  law,  which  makes  animals  in  this  situ- 
<.ation  punishable  with  death,  the  ox,  whichgortdamiai^orwoman^ 
was  commanded  to  be  stoned.    As  the  beast,  which  had  perpetrated 
this  act,  could  be  punished  only  by  men  *,  men  were  recjoired  to  put 
him  to  death.    It  will  not,  I  suppose,  be  contended,  that  we  are  not 
;-- warranted  to  anticipate  this  nuschief,  and  prevent  the*  tim  from 
\  shedding  human  blood,  as  well  as  to  destroy  him  after  lus  depreda- 
tions are  completed. 

In  all  other  cases  we  are  unwarranted  to  take  away  the  life  of 
.-  animals,  because  God  has  given  us  no  warrant. 

There  are  persons,  who  destroy  their  domestic  animals  by  com- 
\  pellio^  them  to  labour  beyond  their  strength,  or  their  capacity  of 
^  endunog  fatiffue.   .There  are  others,  who  beat  them,  under  the 
■  influence  ot  furious  passions,  in  immoderate  degrees ;  or  afflict 
them  by  other  exertions  of  violence  and  cruelty.    There  are  dth- 
ers,  who  den^  them  die  necessary  food,  and  keep  them,  continual- 
ly, half  £unished  through  hunger.    There  are  others^  who:  titke 
'«%away  the  lives  of  birds,  fishes,  and  other  small  animhlS)'  for  the 
;rinere  purpose  of  indiflging  the  pleasure  of  hunting,  or  fishing*  'And 
f  ithere  are  others  still,  who.  find  an  inhuman  pleasure  in  inerely^s- 
««^ressin^and  torturing  this  .humble  and  defenclJess  clasi  of  crea 


r 

m 

1 

(SMysni 

350  K1LLIN6;  WHEN  LAWFUL, 

tures.  Of  the  first  of  these  modes  of  cruelty,  h<>rseracuig  n  a 
scandalous  example.  A  brutal  specimen  of  the  last  is  presentCNi 
to  us  in  cockfightmg* 

^     A  righteous  many  says  Solifnum^  rtgardtih  th$  l^ft  of  his  beatt; 
'  Proverbs  zii.  10* ;  that  is,  a  righteous  man  realS|es,  in  a  just  man- 
ner, the  value  of  the  life  of  his  beast,  entertains  a  Steady  oonvio 
.  tion,  that  he  has  no  right  either  unnecessarily  to  shorten,  or  emhil* 
ter  it ;  and  feels  the  solemn  obligation,  which  he  is  under,  to  me 
all  the  means,  dictated  by  humanity  and  prudence  .for  preaerviog 
.  the  life  of  those  aninials,  which  are  under  his  care,  and  tor  rendo^ 
.  ing  them  comfortable* 

In  all  these  instances  of  crueltv  the  life  of  animals  ia  not  im* 
mediately  taken  away*  But  in  all  of  them  it  is  either  suddenlj, 
or  gradually,  destroyed;  and  often  with  greater  cruelty,  aol 
more  abominable  wickedness,  where  the  process  is  slow,  thai 
where  it  is  summary.  The  spirit  of  this  command  is  violated  ii 
them  all. 

Children,  who  are  either  taught,  or  permitted,  to  exercise  cni^ 
ty  towards  animals  in  early  Ufe,  are  efficaciously  fitted,  in  thisma* 
ner,  to  exercise  cruelty  towards  their  fellow-m^n.  If  they  escaR 
die  dungeon,  or  the  gibbet,  they  will  be  little  indebtedT  for  tm 
.  privilege,  to  those,  who  had  the  charge  of  their  education.  It  i 
remarkable,  that  the  law,  which  punished  murder  with  deatk 
was  immediately  subjoined  to  the  permission  to  take  the  Eft 
aQd  eat  the  flesh,  of  animals.  In  this  feet,  if  I  mistake  not,  tb 
Creator  has  taught  us,  that  the  transition  from  shedding  Am 
blood  to  shedding  /Ao/  of  man  is  so  short,  and  obvious,  as  to  refr 
der  a  new  law  necessary  for  the  prevention  of  murder :  a  law. 
which,  it  would  seem,  had  not  been  demanded  by  the  circomstao 
ces  of  preceding  ases. 

2.  The  life  ofJmn  tmiy,  also,  be  lawfully  taken  a;may  in  certai 
cases  J  according  to  the  Scriptures. 

TTiis  may  be. done,  in  the  first  place,  when  this  act  is  necessary  fr 
our  own  defence.  A  sufficient  warrant  for  this  is  given  us  m  A 
case  of  the  thief  mentioned  Exodus  xxii.  ^.  If  a  thief  be  fmm 
breaking  t/p,  and  be  smitten  that  he  die  ;  there  shall  no  blood  be  shtk 
^  for  HIM.  In  this  case,  the  thief  was  luHed  in  the  defence  of  amai 
and  his  family :  and  the  act  of  killing  him  is  plainly  warranted 
By  parity  of  reason  the  warrant  extends  to  all  cases,  which  in 
aubstance  compare  with  this.  In  other  words,  we  are  justified  in 
putting  to  death  the  person,  who  assails  the  life  of  ourselves,  or 
others,  wrongfully,  wheneve?  our  own  defence,  or  theirs,  makes  it 
;  necessary* 

'  In  every  case  of  ihis  nature,  we  are,  however,  indispeflsably 
bound  to  oe  sure,  tha  we  act  only  in  the  defence  of  ourselves  or 
others ;  jomd  that  there  are  no  perceptible  means,  beside  this  ex- 
treme one,  of  wardine  off  the  threatened  evil.  Wherever  soch 
Bcans  exist;  it  is  our  mdispensable  duty  to  employ  thenu  We  are 


SER.  CXV.]  AND  WHEN  UNLAWFUL.  35 1 

bound,  also,  in  no  case  to  take  away  life  for  an  injury,  already 
done ;  and  in  the  indulgence  of  anger,  malice,  or  revenge.  At  the 
tame  time,  if  the  right  invaded,  or  the  injury  to  be  done,  is  of  mod- 
erate importance;  we  are  prohibited  from  proceeding  to  this  ex- 
tremity. 

OtfCihiigroundalonej  that  it  is  an  act  ofBtlfrdefence,  can  War  be 
hutted*  Aggressive  war  is  nothing  but  a  complication  of  rob- 
Dery  and  murder.  Defensive  war  is  merely  the  united  efforts  of 
several  persons  to  defend  themselves  against  a  common  inroad,  or 
enemy.  It  is,  therefore,  equally  lawful  with  self-defence  in  an  in- 
dividual.  By  aegressive  war,  nere,  I  do  not  intend  that,  which  is 
first  coaunenced  under  the  name  of  war ;  but  the  original  outrage, 
or  series  of  outrages,  out  of  which  the  war  has  lawfully  arisen,  on 
tiie  part  of  the  injured  nation. 

A  numerous,  and  on  many  accounts  respectable,  class  of  Chris- 
tians, the  Friends^  have  denied  the  lawfulness  of  war.  It  is  to  be 
wished,  that  the  world  would  universally  adopt  the  practice  of 
these  padfic  men.  But  so  long  as  the  present  disposition  of  man- 
Idod  predominates ;  so  long  as  men  will  attack,  and  destroy,  the 
life,  liberty, .and  property,  of  their  fellow-men;  defensive  war  is 
absolutely  necessary,  and  absolutely  lawful.  A  nation,  wluch 
should  adopt  the  contrary  doctrine,  would  be  undone.  This  soct' 
sly  of  Christians  could  not  possibly  exist  in  a  national  state.  The 
province  of  Pennsylvania,  and  perhaps  the  rest  of  the  British  Ckir 
ooies  together  with  it,  came  very  near  being  finally  destroyed  by 
di^  prevalence  of  this  very  doctrine  in  its  House  of  Representa- 
tives. Such  a  nation  would  publicly  proclaim  itself  an  unresisting 
prey  to  the  rest  of  mankind;  and,  like  the  deer,  would  become  a 
victim  to  the  fangs  of  the  wolf  and  the  tieer. 

That  War  is  lawful  in  the  abstract  we  Know  with  certainty ;  be- 
cause it  has  been  directly  commanded,  unequivocally  approved, 
and  miraculously  prospered,  by  God.  He  commanaed  Israel  to 
make  war  upon  Amcdeic,  until  the  name  of  that  guilty  nation  should 
be  blotted  out  from  under  heaven.  In  the  same  manner.  He  com- 
manded them  to  make  war  upon  the  inhabitants  oi  Canaan;  and 
approved  of  their  conduct  in  makine  war  upon  that  people.  In  the 
same  manner  He  commmanded  i\iQ  Israelites  to  make  war  repeat- 
edly upon  Midian  and  upon  Hazor ;  censured  the  tribe  of  /{«u- 
kn,  and  by  his  Angel  commanded  the  Israelites  to  curse  Merozy 
because  they  neglected,  or  refused,  to  make  active  exertions  in  this 
war.  He  also  miraculously  aided  the  Israelites  against  Midian^ 
Jlmalekj  the  Philistinesj  and  others.  See  Exodus  xvii.  8.  Judges 
vii.  1  Samuel  vii.  and  3  Samuel  v. 

But  all,  that  has  been  commanded,  approved,  and  miraculously 
prospered,  bjr  God,  is  in  itself  right.  For  it  is  impossible,  that 
God  should  either  conunand,  or  approve  of,  that  which  is  wron^. 
The  only  question,  therefore,  which  can  be  rationally  made  in  this 


S52'  KnxnfO;  WHENXAWI19I{  [8SBf*GKil^ 

caae,  is,  In  what  circumstances  is  war  lawful?  With  this  question  it. 
cannot  be  supposed,  that  I  have  here  any  concern. 

Secondly*  The  life  of  man  may  be  lamully  taken  ovoy,  whtn  hf^ 
crimes  it  has  been  forfeited  to  the  law  of  the  land. 

Mankind  are  commanded,  in  the  orignal  law  concemingmur- 
der,  dven  us  in  Gen.  ix«  to  put  the  murdeKer  to  death.  IVhos^ 
»hedaeth  mav?s  bloody  bt/  man  shall  his  blood  be  shed.  In  the  Jfe^ 
saic  code  the  same  punishment  is  annexed  to  a  variety  of  crimes; 
such  as  adultery,  filial  stubbornness,  idolatry,  and  several  others* 
In  each  of  these  cases  men  are  required  to  take  away  human  life| 
as  the  proper  punishment  of  a  crime,  bv  which  it  has  been  forfeit* 
ed ;  and  are  not  merely  warranted  to  do  this  by  a  permission,  far 
the  former  case,  the  command  is  addressed  to  all  men.  According- 
ly 9.6  find  it  repeated  by  Solomon,  as  an  universal  precept,  in  tM 
ni#t  absolute  terms.  ^  man,  that  doeth  violence  to  the  blood  cf 
ai^i  person,  he  shall  fiee  to  the  pit :  let  no  man  stayhim.  It  is  also 
made  a  part  of  the  Jewish  law  in  various  places.  Exodus  xxi.  19^ 
14.^  Lev.  xxiv.  17.;  and  very  comprenensively,  liumK  zxxr* 
16,  &c.  In  the  latter  cases,  the  command  is  addressed  to  the  h» 
raelites.  The  Jewish  law  is  binding  upon  other  nations  only  in 
those  cases,  .whoso  nature  is  nnchangeable  and  universal ;  or  in 
those,  in  which  tlie  circumstances  arc  precisely  the  same.  Still, 
this  law  is  a  complete  proof  of  the  absolute  rectitude  of  that  con- 
duct, which  it  prescribes.  For,  God  cannot  possibly  prescribe 
that  which  is  wrong.  The  same  law  also  teaches,  that,  in  the  same 
circumstances,  the  same  conduct  may,  with  the  strictest  propriety, 
be  pursued  by  us.     For,  God  cannot  command  that,  which,  in  the 

gVen  circumstances,  is  unwise.    It  is  evidently  lawful,  therefore^ 
r  other  nations,  as  well  as  the  Jews,  to  put  men  to  death  for  oth- 
er crimes  beside  murder. 

But  in  every  case  of  this  nature,  we  are,  in  my  view,  forbidden 
by  the  general  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  and,  as  I  apprehend,  by  the 
plain  dictates  of  Reason,  also,  to  take  away  life,  wherever  a  m9d« 
er.punishment  may  be  safely  substituted.  Murder,  we  are  bound 
invariably  to  pimish  with  death.  For  ever}*  other  crime,  a  milder 
penalty  may,  and  ought  to  be,  adopted,  whenever  it  will  answer 
the  proper  ends  of  punishment.  All  evils,  which,  are  suffered 
beyond  the  necessary  purposes  of  penal  jurisprudence,  are  sut 
fered  gratuitously ;  or,  in  other  words,  without  any  justifying  cause- 
In  this  case,  the  infliction  ceases  to  be  justice ;  and  becomes  op* 
pression. 

It  is  ever  to  be  remembered,  that,  even  when  the  punishment  of 
death  is  lawfully  to  be  inflicted,  it  can  be  warrantably  executed 
only  by  the  magistrate  ;  and  by  him,  only  when  acting  according 
to  the  decisions  of  law.  Private  individuals  have  no  more  right 
to  interfere,  than  if  the  man  condemned  were  innocent ;  and  were 
they  to  lay  violent  hands  on  him,  although  proved  to  be  guilty, 
and  rightfully  condemned,  they  would  themselves  become  mui^ 


8KR  QXV.]  AND  WHEN  UNLAWFUL.  353 

dcsrera.  Nor  can  the  Judge  lawfully  condemn  an^  man,  whatever 
lie  may  think  concerning  the  rectitude  of  the  decision,  unless  up- 
on adequate  legal  testimony,  fairly  exhibited  in  open.court,  and 
in  exact  conformity  to  the  modes  of  trial,  by  law  established* 
Neither  can  the  Executive  Magistrate  warrantably  do  any  thing, 
in  a  case  of  this  nature,  beside  merely  executing  the  sentence  ot 
the  Judge;  whether  he  esteems  that  ientencc  justy  or  unjust. 
The  time,  the  manner,  and  the  circumstances,  or  execution,  or- 
dered bylaw,  he  is  bound  exactly  to  observe.  A  crimmal.  al- 
though condemned  to  death,  may,  instead  of  being  executed,  be 
murdered ;  and  that  as  truly,  as  any  other  man.  The  Sheriff,  also, 
can  easily  lay  aside  the  character  of  a  Magistrate,  and  assume  that 
of  a  Murderer. 

At  th6  same  time,  ail  magistrates,  in  whatever  station  they  act^ 
are  indispensably  prohibitea  from  the  exercise  of  hatred,  or  re- 
▼enge,  in  every  form,  and  degree,  against  the  criminal.  Maris* 
trates  here,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  are  Ministers  of  God  for  ^ooa  to 
his  people.  In  the  awful  employment  of  executing  penal  justice, 
it  18  their  unalterable  duty  to  exercise  the  benevolence  of  the  Gos- 
pel; to  be  exactly  just,  and  faithful;  and  to  ride  in  the  fear  of  God. 
As  instruments  in  His  hand,  disposed  conscientiously  to  do  that, 
and  that  only,  which  is  required  by  his  will,  and  demanded  by  the 
Pliblic.safety,  they  will  be  approved  by  Him ;  and  ought  ever  to  be 
highly  honoured  by  their  fellow-citizens.  But,  if  they  turn  aside 
from  theur  duty ;  and  indulge  their  own  passions,  instead  pf  obey- 
ing the  dictates  of  public  justice ;  they  assume  the  character  of 
oppressors,  and  lay  aside  that  of  rulers ;  merit  the  severest  cen- 
sures of  their  fellow-men ;  and  prepare  a  terrible  account  of  their 
stewardship  against  the  final  day. 

H.  J  shall  mention  several  instances,  in  which  life  is  destroyed  in 
contradiction  to  this  command. 

Of  these  J  the  only  one  which  I  shall  mention  at  the  present  time,  i$ 
ikatj  which  is  appropriately  called  Murder  ;  usually  defintd  to  he  kill' 
mg  owr  neighbour  with  premeditated  malice.    . 

On  this  subject,  so  long,  so  often,  and  so  thoroughly,  canvass- 
ed, so  perfecdy  understood,  and  so  harmoniously  considered  by 
manktna,  it  cannot  be  necessary  to  dwell.  I  shall  dismiss  it, 
therefore,  with  this  single  observation  :  that  the  very  necessity  of' 
forbidding  this  crime,  a  necessity  daily  and  unanswerably  manifest- 
ed, is  a  most  dreadful  proof  of  the  excessive  depravity  of  man. 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  make  several  observations,  more  neces* 
sary,  and  more  instructive  to  this  Audience,  concerning  several 
crimes,  more  or  less  intimately  connected  with  this  subject. 

First.  Ml  those  actions,  whtch  involve  murder,  are  undoubtedly  of 
Ae  same  nature. 

Such  are  the  burning  of  a  house,  supposed  by  the  Incendiary  to 
be  inhabited ;  making  a  dangerous  leak  in  a  ship,  having  men  on 
board ;  shooting,  or  casting  me  instruments  of  death  into  a  crowd, 

Vol.  hi.  46 


r 


>  S54  XP^UNG;  WHEN  LMmti,  [SER.  CZf- 

Treason ;  Rebelfion ;  and  other  acts  of  a  similar  nature.  It  is  to 
no  purpose,  here,  for  the  perpetrator  to  allege,  that  death  may^ 
pdtosibiy,  not  be  the  consequence  of  his  nefarious  conduct.  Had 
he  any  other  reeard  to  the  value  of  human  life,  and  to  the  sacred 
obligtiiion,  which  he  is  under,  not  only  not  to  invade,  but  to  pre- 
serve, it,  beside  What  a  murderer  feels;  he  would  never.be  guilty 
of  thf  conduct,  nor  think  of  this  reason  as  a  iustification  of  it.  A 
bare  possibility  of  this  nature  must  be  alleged,  if  alleged  at  all,  not 
to  convince,  but  to  affiront,  the  understanding. 

Secondly.  Under  this  head  are  also  included  all  those  actions^ 
&y  which  the  life  of  man  is  destroyed  through  a  criminal  Jfegli' 
gence. 

There  are  many  cases,  in  which  we  may  easily  foresee,  that  the 
death  of  others  will  be  a  consequence  of  our  negligence.  A  sacred 
regard  to  the  value  of  human  life,  duly  felt  by  us,  would  necessarily 
produce  that  attentive  care,  which,  so  far  ais  is  in  our  power,  would 
msure  safety  to  the  lives  of  our  fellow-men. 

Thirdly.  To  contrive  the  death  of  others  is  a  crime  of  lAe  same 
general  nature* 

The  criaie  of  murder  lies  in  the  dispositions,  and  designs,  of 
the  heart.  To  constittite  us  murderers  in  the  sight  of  God,  it  is 
Aot  necessary,  that  we  shoulci*  be  guilty  of  any  overt  act  whatev- 
er«  //  is  fistipljf^snMcient  to  contrive  the  dealh  of  others.  Sp  plain 
b  this  truth,  that  ifhas  been  generally  acknowledged  byoiiDkiod. 
The  real,  and  the  prime,  guilt,  probablv,  almost  always  Sfcv  here. 
The  Providence  of  God  not  unmquentfy  prevents  the  contrivdice 
from  being  executed.  But  the  contriver  is  still  a  monlerer  in  his 
sight. 

Fourthly.  To  toish  the  death  of  others^  although  we  form  nopkms 
for  accomplishing  tV,  is  a  crime  of  the  same  general  nature* 

He,  who  lookfth  on  a  woman  to  lust  after  her^  saith  our  Savioiir, 
hath  committed  adultery  with  her  already  in  his  heart.  "By  parity 
of  reason,  wishes  indulged  against  the  life  of  our  neighboiu*,  are 
the  commission  of  murder.  There  are  probably  many  pefsons,. 
who  sccredy  wish  the  death  of  their  fellow-men,  and  who  yet,  nev- 
er form,  nor  think  of  forming,  any  plan  to  accomplish  their  death. 
Most,  if  not  all,  of  these,  perhaps,  feel  litde  remorse  at  the  re* 
membrance  of  their  conduct ;  and  probably  rarely  suspect  them- 
selves of  being  even  remotely  concerned  in  transgressine  this  coo- 
mand.  Every  such  person  is  grossly  deceived;  and  will  be  found 
charged  with  the  guilt  of  murder  at  the  final  Judgment. 

Fiftiily.  To  wound  our  neighbour,  and  deprive  mm  of  the  use  ^ 
his  limbs,  or  faculties,  is  a  crime  of  the  same  nature  ;.  though,  I  ac« 
knowledge,  of  inferior  guUt. 

Although  to  destroy  another's  limbs  is  not  to  take  away  his  life;; 
it  is  yet  to  take  away  a  part  of  the  usefulness,  andcomfort,  which 
make  life  desirable.  We  may  continue  to  Uve,  when  we  are  nxt^ 
diered  chiefly  useless,  and  unhappy.    But  life  itself,  so  fiur  as  thiii 


BSSLCXy,y  and  when  UNIJlWntef/  38|r. 

world  is  concerned,  must  be  of  little  value  to  the  possessor.  Nor 
can  it  easily  be  believed,  that  be,  whose  malevolence  can  be  gcati* 
fied  by  depriving  his  neighbour  of  his  limbs,  or  other  pecayiLrly 
important  blessings,  would,  under  a  little  additional  provocatioat 
be  reluctant  to  take  his  life. 

Sixthly.  Quarrelling  and  Fighting  are  crimes,  evidently  of  th$ 
tame  nature.  -<. 

A  great  part  of  the  murders,  coknmitted  in  this  world,  are  merehy 
Ae- conclusions,  or  catastrophes,  of  these  crimes.  So  evident  is 
this,  that  nothing  is  more  common,  with  respect  to  an  existing 
quarrel,  than  to  hear  the  persons,  who  mention  it,  express  their 
apprehensions,  that  it  may  terminate  in  murder.  Indeea,  the  spirit, 
whicb  begets  contentions  of  this  nature,  is  only  an  inferior  degree  of 
tbat,  which  malignantly  destroys  the  life  of  man.  TTie  beginmM 
afttrife,  says  Solomon,  is  as  when  one  letteth  out  water:  an  evil|, 
ine  de^ee,  the  mischiefs,  and  the  end  of  which  can  never  be  anti-  ' 
ctpated  by  the  human  mind. 

Seventhly.  All  violentj  unreasonable  anger,  envy,  and  hatred,  ait 
ivils  of  the  same  nature. 

Christ,  commenting  on  the  Sixth  Conunand,  saytf  Whosoever 
shall  be  angry  with  his  brother,  without  a  ettsse,  shall  ii  in  danger  of 
ike  judgment ;  and  Whosoever  shdtl  say  to  his  brother,  Raea,  shsit 
bo  in  danger  of  the  camcU;  but  whosoever  shall  Hty,  TTkmfool,  or^ 
as  Doddridge  seems  inclined  to  render  it,  **  T&m  villaih,^\  shall  be 
in  danger  of  Hell-Jire.  St.  John^  in  a<manner  more  summary,  and 
still  more  explicit,. obseryes,  He  thathateih  his  brother  is  a  murder* 
tr.  From  thete  passages  it  is  evident,  that  all  the  several  things, 
which  I  have  considered  as  involved  in  the  general  crime  of  mur- 
der, or  as  acts  of  disobedience  to  this  precept,  are  actuallv  of  this 
general  nature.  They  are  not,  indeed,  all  marked  with  the  same 
malignity,  as  the  crime,  usually  known  by  this  name.  But  they 
all  partake  of  the  same  nature ;  and  are  either  murder  in  the 
proper  sense ;  or  steps,  which  lead  directly  to  it ;  seeds,  impreg- 
nated with  that  very  poison,  which,  more  perfectly  concocted  in 
the  future  growth  of  tne  plant,  becomes  so  rank,  and  so  fatal,  to 
the  life  of  man. 

Finally.  I  hesitate  not  to  pronounce  that  unkindness,  which,  espe- 
daily  when  exercised  towards  inferiors  and  dependants,  wears  upon 
the  spirits  y  and  often  breaks  the  hearts  of  our  fellow-creatures,  to  be 
U  crime  of  the  same  nature. 

In  order  to  shorten  human  life,  it  is  not  necessary  to  use  a 
bludgeon,  nor  a  pistol.  Servants  may  be  easily  brought  toan  un* 
timely  grave  by  stinting  them  with  respect  to  their  necessary  food^ 
clothes,  lodging,  or  fuel;  or  by  a  repetition  of  tasks,  unreasonably 
burdensome.  A  delicate,  and  susceptible,  child  may  be  easily 
driven  into  a  consumption  by  parental  coldness,  fretfulness,  se- 
rerity,  the  denial  of  necessary  indigencies,  or  the  exaction  of 
undue  compliances.    Mere  conjugal  indifference  may  easily  break 


4 

4' 


v» 


KQXQrO;  WHEN  LAWFUL, 


[SUtCIf. 


the  heart  of  an  affectionate  wife.  Faithless  fnendship  may  de- 
stroy, at  once,  the  life  of  a  friend.  Ungrateful  subiects  have 
shortened  the  life  of  an  affectionate  Ruler  by  their  ingratitude 
merely.  Rulers  have,  probably,  in  millions  of  instances,  put 
their  subjects  to  deaths  without  any  immediate  violence,  by  the 

\^  gradual,  but  sure,  operations  of  a  comprehensive  and  haid-haod- 

^  ed  oppression. 

From  these  observations  it  is  evident,  that  Murder  in  the  proper 
sense,  is  begun  in  unkindness :  and  that  unkindness  is  begun  in  the 
early  and  unrestrained  indulgent  of  human  passions.  This  in- 
dulgence, therefore.  Parents,  and  all  other  Guardians  of  childreO| 
are  bound  faithfully  to  restrain,  from  the  beginning.  The  first  toi- 
dencies  towards  cruelty,  the  first  evidences  of  an  unfeeling  dispo* 
sition,  should  be  repressed,  discouraged,  and,  as  far  as  may  be,  de* 
stroyed.  Tenderness,  on  the  contrary,  a  spirit  of  general  bene- 
volence, and  an  active,  affectionate  beneficence  to  others,  should  be 
cultivated  in  every  child  with  care,  sedulousness,  and  constancj) 

^  resembline  that,  with  which  an  impassioned  florist  watches,  nurseSi 
and  cherishes,  a  choice  flower;  procured  with  great  expense  from  a 
distant  climate ;  his  own  favourite  possession ;  pre-eminent  for  its 
fragrance  and  beauty ;  and^^resanied  by  him  as  die  pride«  and 
boast,  of  the  country,  iA  whieh  he  lives. 


>   • 


I 

4 


SERMON  CXYL 

SIXTH  ^  C(MntJjrDIISVTtf--DnBLLU«tf 


mS  th«  preceding  diacoimei  from  these  words,'  l>  proposed  to 

MDt  oat, 

I;  Tlum  mskmeesj  in  which  lift  may  it  km^idiif  iakm^  «Mj^ 

'fki&bli/  to  Scrwhural  txception*  under  thk  Uuo  f 

IIj  Some  of  tko9€  hutancesj  in  which  l^tuduiroytiin  eonltm^ 

ftiun  to  this  ktm. 

i%ie  first  of  these  heads  I  discussed  at  that  time;  and  made  se« 

Ml  observations  under  the  Second*        The  remaining  subjectSy 

difeded  in  this  division,  are  Dwlling^  Suicide^  and  Dnmkennett. 

bb-first  of  these,  viz.  Duelling,  shall  be  the  topic  of  immediate 

restigation. 

That  Duelling  is  a  violation  of  the  ifcmtMnd  in  the  teiKl  is  en- 

li  From  the  words  of  the prec^  iiiilff 
Thou  shalt  not  kill* 

V  have  alreadjr  observed,  that  these  words  contain  a  command 
tirely  absolute,  without  either  condition,  or  exception.     I  abo 
served,  that,  as  this  is  a  command  of  God,  man  cannot,  witb- 
€  impious  presumption,  attempt  to  limit  it;  and  that  no  other 
:teptions^  tnerefore,  can  be  made  to  it,  beside  those  which  God 
iiluelf  has  made.    But  God  has  made  no  exception,  which .  the 
^t  ingenious  mind  can  so  construe^  as  to  render  it,  even  jn  the 
M -remote  deeree,  fiivourable  to  Duelling.    As  tUs  s^JsJBrtiesfc 
■  flieither  be  aenied  nor  doubted;  it  will  onl^be  necessary  te^' 
iL'thit  this  precept  stands  in  full  force  against  DueUiiig^j.aiid' 
irfcirery  Duel  is  a  gross  violation  of  its  whole  authorifJ;« 
lidr  is  this  all.    Duelling  is  a  violation  of  this  precept,  of  the  ^ 
Tf  worst  kind ;  superior  in  its  guilt  to  most  other  crimes  of  tbiS 
iie  nature,  and  inferior  to  none*    Fcv, 
9;  Jl  Duel  is  alwm/s  the  result  of  a  design  to  Idto  etsHotki^nem-^ 

I  say  always^  It  is  not,  however,  my  intention  to  deny,  that 
ere  may  be  exceptions  to  this  general  declaration.  But  these- 
e  prol)ably  as  few,  as  toan^  general  rule  concerning  human- 
naucu  The  challenge  orieinaUy  contains  a  proposition  to  kill; 
'to  be  killed.  It  is  accepted  with  an  expectation  of  killing,  or  <^ 
irig  killed.  Each  of  the  combatants,  dso,  takes  his  aim  at  the 
it  of  life,  and  intends  to  destroy  his  antagonist,  if'  he  can.^:  Nk 


♦■ » 


358  DUELURG;  pOt  dVL 

Sretence,  therefore,  is  more  unfounded,  than  that  duellists  do  boI 
esign  to  kill  each  other.    .. 

3.  Duelling  always' involves  Efforts  to  destroy  life. 

The  wtepons,  used  in  it,  are  always  the  proper  instruments  of 
^death ;  and  they  are  used  with  the  utmost  skill,  and  care,  which 
the  parties  possess,  for  the  direct  purpose  of  producing  this  dread- 
fill  catastrophe. 

4.  Men  are  put  to  death  in  Duels  with  more  DeHberaticn^  thanim 
aknost  any  other  case  whatever. 

The  ChaUenger  has  always  ample  opportunity  to  deliberate,  be- 
fore he  gives  the  Challenge.  This  opportunity,  also,  it  is  reasoii- 
fUy  supposed,  he  extencb  as  far  as  he  pleases ;  both  because  the 
case  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to  himself,  flld  because  he 
manages  it  according  to  his  own  choice.  To  iim  it  is  entirely 
optional,  whether  he  will  fight  at  all ;  and,  when  he  has  determined 
this  point,  at  what  time  he  shall  give  the  challenge.  Whatevw 
time,  therefore,  he  chooses  to  take  for  consideration,  he  actually 
takes;  and  this  he  himself  will  not  deny  to  be  a  sufficient  time* 
During  this  period  also,  the  subject,  being  of  the  highest  im- 
portance, ana  necessarily  makine  the  strongest  imprtesi(Hi8,mail 
oe  often,  if  not  always,  in  his  mind ;  must  therefore  be  viewed  in  its 
various  lights ;  and  must  receive  all  the  examination  which  such  a 
mind  is  capable  of  giving  to  subjects  of  the  highest  consequenctr 
Of  course,  a  duel  is  invariably  the  result,  if  it  be  not  the  Chal- 
lenger's own  fault,  of  the  most  ample  deliberation.  It  must  be  Us 
own  fault  also,  if  this  deliberation  oe  not  cool  and  thorough.  AD 
these  observations,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  are  applicable,  with  the 
siame  force,  to  the  person  challenged. 

Duelling  is,  probably  j  always  perpetrated  with  a  spirit  of  Rtoeng^ 
I  say  probably  always.  For  that  this  is  usually  the  met,  no  so- 
ber man  can  doubt  for  a  moment.  Tome  it  seems  inconceivable^ 
that  any  man,  whatever  may  have  been  his  feelings  in  the  earlier 
parts  of  this  transaction,  should  go  into  the  field  and  employ  him- 
self in  the  several  measures,  adopted  by  duellists  for  the  purpose  oC 
taking  awa^  each  other's  lives ;  and  not  be  under  the  influence  ot 
predominatmg  passions.  These  passions  can  be  no  other  than  Ha- 
tred and  Revenue.  If  we  trace  this  subject  with  even  a  moderate 
degree  of  attention,  from  its  coounencement  to  its  close ;  it  will,  I 
think,  be  impossible  for  us  to  adopt  any  other  opinion.  The 
Challenger  receives,  or  at  least  believes  himself  to  have  recdvedi 
an  injury,  (of  what  kind  is  a  matter  of  perfect  indifierence)  suffi- 
ciently great  to  demand  of  him  the  exposure  of  his  own  life  to 
probable  destruction ;  and  the  death,  so  far  as  he  is  able  to  coah 
pass  it,  of  the  injurer.  Now  let  me  ask,  and  let  every  sober  man 
answer  the  question,  whether  an  injury,  felt  to  be  of'^  this  magni- 
tude, was  ever  regarded,  or  can  possibly  be  regarded,  by  such 
men,  as  duellists  always  are,  without  strong  feeliiigs  of  wrath  and 
revenge?    Duellists,  every  one  knows,  are  men  pre-«ninently 


'  SBR.  CXVL]  BUBLUXIG.  .   jf  g 

proud,  haughty,  insolent,  and  proverbially  irritable ;  jealous  to  an 
extreme  of  What  they  call  their  own  rights;  disdaining  to  have 
tbem  determined,  as  tnose  of  other  men  are,  by  tribunals  of  jus- 
tice. They  regard  the  forgiveness  of  injuries,  and  all  the  peace* 
iul  and  gentle  virtues  of  man,  with  supreme  contempt ;  and  claim 
to  themselves,  in  opposition  to  the  laws  of  "God  and  their  countryi 

*  the  adjudication  of  their  own  disputes,  and  the  retribution  of  their 
own  injuries.  What  should  hinder  a  man  of  this  character  firom 
indul^ng,  or  executing,  revenue  in  any  case:  especially  in  a  case 
cf  this  importance  ?  The  rectitude  of  revenge  is  a  prime  prin- 
ciple of  his  creed:  a  principle,  to  which  he  adheres  with  sucn  te- 
nacity, and  uniformity,  as  in  a  better  cause,  would  do  honour  to  the 
most  exemptarjf^Christian.  He  does  not  come  to  the  consideration 
of  this  subject  with  doubts  concerning  the  rectitude,  or  a  conviction 
of  the  sinfulness,  of  revcnec;  but  with  m  determination,  long  since 
established,  and  never  called  in  question,  that  H  is  right:  a  determi- 
nation, to  which  he  gives  the  extensive  and  commanding  influence 
of  a  Maxim.  From  the  indulgence,  and  the  execution,  of  revenge, 
lie  is  restrained,  therefore,  by  no  moral  consideration  whatever. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  sanctioned  by  the  very  first  principles  of  his 
MoraHty.  Of  course,  it  becomes  his  boast;  and  is  regarded  by 
him  as  a  part  of  his  moral  worth ;  as  the  ornament,  ana  glory,  of 

'  his  character.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  there  is  ncdnng  to  hinder 
Um  from  the  indulgence  of  this  passion  in  any  case ;  especially  in 
a  case,  to  which  he  attaches  this  high  importance. 

Should  it  be  said,  that  the  injury  in  question  is  not  considered 
Bs  being  of  such  magnitude ;  but  that  th^  laws,  prescribed  by  du- 
ellists to  themselves,  compel  a  man  of  "honour  to  resent  injuries, 
which  they  themselves  esteem  small,  in  this  manner:  I  answer i 
that  the  injury,  how  insignificant  soever  it  ma]^  be  in  reality,  is  still 
such  in  ^e  estimation  <m  duellists,  as  to  subject  the  challen^, 
unavoidably,  to  this  exposure,  and  to  all  the  evils,  by  which  it  is 
followed.  In  this  view  onflv  it  is  regarded  by  him ;  and  all  the  re- 
sentment, all  the  feelings  of  revenge,  naturally  flowing  from  aa  in- 
jury of  this  magnitude,  will  be  awakened  it  his  breast. 

in  the  mind  of  the  Challenged,  the  same  emotions  will  be  rous- 
ed, of  course,  by  the  challenge  itself.  The  challenge,  m  his  view, 
infers  the  same  obligation  on  nis  pait  to  expose  his  own  life ;  and 
either  to  lose  it,  or  destroy  that  of  his  antagonist.  Aeainst  his 
antagonist,  'therefore,  all  that  hostility  will  be  excited  in  his  mind, 
which  is  die  natural  result  of  such  an  injury.  Now,  let  me  ask 
any  man  of  common  candour,  whether  it  is  credible,  that  in  two 
men,  thus  circumstanced,  strong  feelings  of  revenge  vrill  noC  of 
course  be  kindled  f  They  are  men,  not  only  wraihfiil  and  revenge-  . 
fill  in  their  nature,  but  glorying  in  the  indulgence  of  wrath  and  re-  . 
Tenge.  They  openly  declare  the  exercise  of  these  passions,  in 
this  extreme  manner,  to  be  right,  honourable  to  themselves,  and 
4iniamental  to  <he  human  charader.    For  this  veiy  exercise  of 


.^J60  .DDSUUIO.  .IBOLjCan. 

tliese  paasioiis  they  esteem  themselves  superior  to  other  men ;  stjle 

themselves  ^^^mve,"  ^^rnen  of  honour ^^^  and  **  gentlemen  $^^  and 

•  name  others  ^^  comards^^  ^^  ecoundrels,'*^  and  "  nucob*"    k  it  poi- 

dble,  that,  habitually  entertaining  these  opinions^  and  habituflllf 

'  indulging  these  passions,  they  should  not  exercise  them,  peciilttf- 

.'  I7,  on  such  an  occasion  ? 

I  well  know,  that  duellists  profess  themselves  to  be  free  fron 
these,  passions  in  cases  of  this  kind ;  and  declare,  that  they  pro- 
ceed to  these  horrible  rencounters  with  entire  coolness  and  good 
•nature*    These  professions,  however,  have  not  the  most  distsot 
'  claim  to  credit.   All  men,  who  feel  themselves  exposed  to  the  ces- 
sures  of  mankind,  endeavour  to  rebut  them  in  the  best  manner  in 
their  power.    Fair  professions  are  the  most  obvious  m^uis  of  ^^ 
butting  them.    In  the  same  manner  the  bully  conceals  his  oowiiid- 
ice,  and  the  hypocrite  his  irreligion ;  and  both  have  as  good  cUds 
"to  be  believeo,  as  the  duellist.    Cool,  indeed,  he  may  be  in  some 
•instances ;  that  is,  not  a^tated  by  fear :  but  every  thing  in  Im 
situation,  and  in  his  conduct,  proves,  that  he  is  angry^  and  r^ 
-^  vengeful. 

6.  DueUiiti  take  theuimoit  pains  to  prepare  themeelvee  far  Hit 
^.Areadftd  etrqflojment. 

In  places,  where  duelling  is  generally  practised,  it  bas  become 
'  a  regular  employment;  ana  may  be  fau*ly  considered  as  a  brsnch 
'  of  the  regular  education  of  children  and  youths,  to  acquire,  skill 
and  adroitness  in  the  art  of  destroying  human  life  by  this  spedcs 
« of  violence.    Children,  at  a  very  early  period,  employ  themselvei 
•daily,  and  yearly,  through  lon^  periods  of  time,  m  snooting  .vitk 
f pistols;  and  acquire  skill  by  this  practice,  just  as  penmansnin  is 
-acquired ;-  with  as  much  coolness,  and  with  as  much  success.  Hen 
^  also,  who  have  not  received  this  education  in  early  life,  eropky  tbe 
t' sober  years  of  maturer  age  in  learning  the  same  horrid  art.   To 
i  excel  in  it,  is  re^rded  by  the  adept  himself,  and  his  fellows,  as  ao 
^attainment  of  hi^h  distinction.    To  be  able  to  split  a-  beJI  upoo 
the  edge  of  a  knife,  or  extinguish  a  candle,  with  a  pistol  boll,,  at 
the  distance  of  the  utmost  goal  of  duelling,  is,  in  the  view  ofthne 
i^Bieuf  to  have  arrived  at  glory,  not  a  little  resemblbg  that  ^'A- 
TTeniUf  or  Mniboraugh. 

•  In  all  this  conduct  is  seen,  urith  the  slightest  glance,  a  deGboite 
^design,  a  cold-blooded  system,  of  taking  away  the  life  of.iaan 
ymth  the  hand  of  violence :  a  design,  a  system,  begun  in  chOd- 
^hood,  and  cherished,  cultivated,  and  perfected,  through  every  UK- 
"^eeeding  period.  What  dupe  of  credulity  can  be  so  absotaCdjf 
*  blind  to  the  whde  nature  of  evidence,  as  not  to  see,  in  this.doD- 
iduct,  designs  equally  hostile  against  human  life,  more  delibente, 
^mnd  certainly  not  less  guilty,  than  those  o(  the  prqfeseed  aaa^f 
7.tI%o  DmUitt  tahee^ama^  4UMfe  jfkie  MtgUmr  t^Om^t  i 


In  this  respect,  the  murderer  in  the  appropriate  sense,  nay,  the 
professed  assassin,  can,  in  many  instances  at  least,  more  specious- 
^  justify  himself,  than  the  duellist.  The  murderer  attacks  his  vic- 
tun  under  the  domination  of  furious  passion;  at  the  moment,  when 
he  has  lost  the  possession  of  reason,  and  conscience,  and  the  con* 

auent  government  of  himself;   under  the  consciousness  of  a 
I  and  mtense  injury ;  or  with  the  hope  of  delivering  himself 
from  a  persecutor.    Bruius  expected  to  free  his  country  from  a 
Tyrant :  Charlotte  Corde^  to  deliver,  hers  from  another.     These,  I 
acknowledge,  are  far  from  being  solid  or  justifying  reasons ;  yet 
Ibey  Hre  sficcious.    They  are  such,  as,  in  the  moment  oJfprDvoca* 
tioa  and  lutterness,  would  have  great  weight,  and  go  far,  in  the 
finsnetic  mind  of  a.man  violently  in  a  passion,  towaras  vindicating 
JiiiD  to  himself.    But  the  duellist  is  roused  to  batde  by  a  contemp* 
htauM  loakj  a  slight  wordy  or  some  other  wound,  given  to  mere 
pride.    All  these  and  the  like  things  are  perfectly  harmless,  if 
|Nissed  by  with  serenity  and  self-possession.    At  the  worst,  they 
are  mere  expressions  of  the  opinion,  which  the  jirovoking  person 
entertains  ot  our  character;  an  opinion,  which,  if  we  are  raithful 
•to  ourselves,  can  do  us  no  harm ;  and  which  usually  merits  noth- 
ing but  disregard,  contempt,  or  pity.    This  the  duellist  has  ample 
"time  to  investigate,  and  to  know :  for  the  very  manner  of  execut- 
ing his  resentiiient  postpones  the  execution  beyond  the  ordinary 
|»eriod  of  violent  passion.    Every  duellist  must  confess,  unless  he 
!«ill  acknowledge  nis  whok  life  to  be  a  paroxysm  of  rage,  that 
the  seasons,  in  which  he  acquires  the  skill  of  directing  surely  the 
jpeapoos  of  death;  in  which  he  determines  to  become  a  professed 
duellist ;  in  which  he  settles  the  principles,  and  learns  the  rules 
•#f  his  profession ;  in  whidi  he  fixes  in  his  mind  the  proper  causes 
■of  a  challenge,  the  proper  motives  for  fighting,  and  the  proper 
.nodes  of  conducting  it ;  are  not  seasons  of  violence  and  provoca- 
'lion.    He  will  confess  that  the  time  of  bis  future  life,  independent- 
ly of  the  little  periods  of  actual  combat,  which  he  spends  in  avow- 
edly professing  his  deliberate  inuntion  of  acting  as  a  duellist  on 
iBFery  occasion,  which  he  thinks  a  proper  one,  is  not  a  time  of  agi- 
iation,  wrath,  and  partial  insanity. 

Nor  is  the  duellist  more  happy  with  respect  to  the  Fmql  Cmue 
^  hii  eondmty  or  the  End,  which  he  expects  to  accomplish  by  this 
species  of  controversy* 

Reparation  for  an  injun/  received  it  commonly  alleged  at  thit  end. 
But  the  death  of  his  Antagonist  furnishes  no  such  reparation.  Hit 
neighbour's  loss  of  life  lessens  in  i^o  manner,  nor  degree,  any  inju- 
fj,  which  he  hfks  reoeired  from  him;  and  cannot  possibly  restore 
"io  him  lost  property,  or  lost  reputation.  The  lact,  that  he  has 
tfhajleaged,  and  Killed,  a  man,  will  wke  him  neither  richer,  nor 
fliore  honourable,  nor  more  happy.  He  may,  indeed,  acquire 
'honour  io  tbfi  opinion  of  a  few  soyeD,  ^  foolish,  unprincipledi 
»iid  abaodowdf  as  biomli.  Aut  .ijbe  gpod  optfuw  of  thcsye  jqba 
Vol.111.  46 


J03  DI7CLLIN0  '  [nSL  ClfL 

b  diserace.  Tn  the  view  of  eveiy  wise  and  good  man  he  renden 
himself  deeply  shameful,  and  supremely  guilty.  He  may,  pe^ 
haps,  enjoy  what  men  of  furious  passions  sometimes  call  happi- 
ness ;  VIZ.  the  fell  pleasure,  foundTbv  such  men  in  revenge.  Turt 
revenge  is  sweet  to  the  taste  of  a  oad  man,  I  am  not  disposed 
to  question.  But  it  is  bitter  and  dreadful  in  the  end.  Let  the 
duellist  remember,  that  God  hath  said.  To  me  belcngeth  uih 
gtance  and  recompense  ;  that  He  has  forbidden  us  to  avenge 
selves  ;  or  to  bear  any  ^ritdge  against  our  neighbour ;  subjo 
this  solemn  and  authontative  reason.  Vengeance  is  mme^  Iwittri 
pay  t/.  Let  him  read,  and  ponder,  the  parable  of  the  Servmil^ 
who  owed  ten  thousand  talents;  and  when  he  finds  that  semnt 
thrust  into  prison  and  delivered  over  to  the  tormentors,  as  hia  fiml 
and  irrevocable  doom;  let  him  ask  himself.  What  will  become  of 
hinij  who,  instead  of  imprisoning  his  fellow-servant,  puts  him  to  t 
violent  death,  and  sends  him  into  eternity,  with  all  his  sins  upoohii 
head  ?  Then  let  him  further  ask,  whether  the  pleasure  of  revoige 
is  sufficiently  ereat  to  balance  the  immense  hazard,  whidh  he  in- 
curs for  the  saKe  of  thiis  gratification  ? 

In  the  mean  lime,  a  duel,  allowing  that  it  should  termisutie  m  As 
death  of  him  who  gave  the  provocation,  alters  not,  in  the  leasts  As 
state  of  the  supposed  injury,  nor  of  him  who  received  t7.     If  he  has 
been  charged  with  cowardice,  and  is  really  a  coward ;  he  will  stiE 
remain  so.    If  he  is  not;  the  charge  will  not  make  him  a  coward. 
If  he  has  been  charged  with  lying,  and  has  really  lied ;  he  wiD 
still  remain  a  liar;  unless  he  becomes  an  honest  man  by  repent- 
ance and  reformation.     If  he  has  not  lied ;  the  charge  can  nerer 
seriouslv  affect  his  repi^tation,  nor  persuade  a  sinele  sober  man  (0 
believe  him  a  liar.    Men,  in  this  country  at  least^liave  usually  lit- 
tle to  fear  fi^m  such  charges  as  these.     If  they  will  be  faithnil  lo 
themselves ;  if  they  will  exhibit  the  virtues,  which  are  denied  to 
them,  on  all  such  occasions,  as  call  them  into  exercise,  and  re- 
nounce, or  avoid,  the  opnosite  vices ;  the  world,  bad  as  it  is,  wiD 
almost  always  discern  tneir  true  character;  and  will  most  gene- 
rally do  justice  to  it.    Sometimes,  I  acknowledge,  they  may,  even 
-while  they  exercise  a  good  degree  of  patience,  smart  under  thi 
lash  of  unmerited  censure.    These  seasons,  however,  can  rarelf 
be  of  long  continuance :  and,  while  they  last,  will,  to  a  wise  man, 
;  in  most  cases,  be  eminently  profitable,  by  teaching  him  to  mode- 
^^  rate  the  inordinate  attachment,  so  commonly,  so  foolishly,  and  so 
.  dangerously  indulged,  to  the  applause  of  mankind.     This  is  one, 
^.  and  m  my  view  the  chief,  exercise  of  that  love  to  the  wwrld,  which 
.  the  Scriptures  dcclsrs  to  be  incompatible  with  /ove  lo  God*    Ths 
.  efiectual  mortification  of  this  attachment,  strange  as  it  may  seem 
lo  the  duellist,  would  yield  him  more  serene,  unmingled,  and  endor^ 
ing  pleasure,  than  all  that,  which  has  been  found  in  all  the  grat- 
ifications, furnished  by  duelling    since    the  beginning  of  tine. 
Let  the  duellist  Also  remember,  uiat  in  this  very  act  df  attempting 


GZ?14  DUfiLLUIQ.  3|fS 

to  destroy  his  neighbour's  life,  he  more  grossly  injures  his  own 
character,  than  ten  thousand  charges,  such  as  those,  which  he 
^us  fMriously  resents,  could  possibly  do.  In  the  view  of  evei^ 
Snan  of  sober  reflection,  he  brands  upon  his  character  the  stamp 
>f  murder,  the  blackest  mark  of  infamy  which  can  be  worn  by 
Ban. 

But  it  will  be  replied  to  these  observations  by  the  duellist,  that 
the  anguith^  which  Ju  mfftrt^  is  such^  as  he  cannot  possibly  If  ear  f 
and  thai  there  is  no  »ay,  in  which  he  can  render  life  even  sv^orta* 
ble  under  such  an  imputation  on  his  character j  without  tahn^  th€ 
life  of  the  slanderer.  This  plea  has  heen  often  seriously  made.  I 
will  .therefore  examine  it. 

In  the  f*irst  Place,  The  allegation^  contained  in  it,  is  untrue*  The 
anguish,  complained  of,  might  be  easily- supported,  without  the 
death  of  its  Author.  There  are  no  wonls,  which  more  frequently 
delude  those,  who  use  them,  than  can  and  cannot,  possible  and  m-> 
passible.  We  often  say,  and  believe,  that  we  cannot  do  that,  which 
we  merely  will  not;  and  frequendy  pronounce  that  conduct  to  be 
impossible,  which  is  only  very  disagreeable.  The  Apostles,  and 
the  Christian  Martyrs  of  every  age,  were,  iii  many  instances,  pos- 
sessed of  as  much  understandm^  and  sensibility,  and  therefore  un- 
derstood the  nature  of  die  injunes,  which  they  received,  as  weU, 
at  least,  as  the  duellist  in  question ;  and  felt  them  as  deeply.  Yet 
tliey  bore  slanders  more  gross,  more  frequently  repeated,  more  ex- 
tensively believed,  and  continued  through  a  much  longer  dura- 
tion. They  bore  them,  also,  without  repining,  often  without  com- 
plaining, and  always  without  sinking.  Women,  also,' of  extreme 
delicacy,  and  exquisite  sensibility,  nave  sustained,  not  with  pa- 
tience only,  but  with  fortitude  also,  the  most  brutal  accusations. 
Certainly  a  man,  who  boasts  so  much  of  his  firmness  of  character, 
as  a  duellist  always  does,  must  be  ashamed  of  possessing  less  har- 
dihood, than  women  and  Christians. 

Secondly.  This  anguish,  chiefly,  is  voluntarily  created  by  himself 
It  ia  nothing  but  the  pain  of  wounded  pride :  a  passion  more  inju- 
rious to  his  peace,  and  more  hostile  to  his  moral  character,  than 
the  slander,  which  he  feels  so  deeply :  a  passion,  which,  if  he 
were  a  wise  and  good  man,  he  would  use  every  hopeful  exertion 
to  mortify  and  subdue.  Independently  of  the  feelings,  occasioned 
by  this  passion,  the  slander,  of  which  he  complains,  would  do  hun 
very  litUe  harm. 

But  he  has  been  called  a  coward.  So  have  thousands  and  mil- 
lions of  others,  who  regarded  the  imputation  only  with  sport.  But 
he  6as  been  called  a  liar.  So  have  vast  numbers  of  the  best 
.  qien  who  have  ever  lived ;  who,  though  not  insensible  of  the 
Blander,  have  nevertheless  passed  quietly  on  through  lifp  in  much 
the  same  manner  as  if  it  had  never  been  uttered.  Were  the  du- 
ellist possessed  of  the  same  spirit ;  he  would  feel  as  little  anguish 


364  Dditttiito.  ijstlk-9t^ 

firom  this  soime  as  they  felt.  The  whole  dtSereiice  betni^Mfi  him 
and  them,  is  created,  both  foolishly  and  sinfully,  by  \ii  owh  pride. 
Thirdly.  The  murderer,  in  the  appropriate  sense,  can  tmisftf 
make  the  same  plea  in  his  own  hchatf^  and  with  more  force.  K 
cannot  be  doubted,  that  in  the  hour  of  extreme  provocation  and 
abuse ;  such  abuse,  as  awakens,  for  the  first  time,  the  dreadiui 

i>ur|}ose  of  murder ;  an  agitation  must  be  felt,  and  an  anguish  snf- 
ered,  far  more  intense,  than  that,  which  is  ordinarily  experienced 
by  the  duellist.  He  has  made  it  a  part  of  his  eeneral  systenii  and 
a  deliberate  purpose,  to  destroy  human  life. '  To  a  mind,  tbiu  pre- 
pared, no  event  tf  this  nature  can  come  whollv  unlooked  for ;  tf 
De,  as  in  the  other  case,  a  matter  of  mere  and  absolute  snrpriseb 
A  mind,  thus  circumstanced,  can  hardly  suffer,  in  the  same  degree, 
from  the  very  same  provocation.    But  the  provocation's,  usoallj 

S'ven  to  the  duellist,  are  injuries  far  inferior,  in  their  degree,  to 
ose,  which  ordinarily  excite  in  the  human  breast  a  purpose,  so 
new  to  it,  and  so  horrible,  as  murder.  The  Duellist  has  beeo 
disciplined  to  this  object;  and  comes  to  it  with  the  cool  feelings  of 
a. veteran.  The  murderer  is  a  raw  adventurer,  who  has  neret 
seen  this  terrible  object  in  a  noar  view  before.  He  is,  thcreiior^ 
ur^cd  to  the  conflict  by  extroMir*  provocatives  only;  with  intense 
agitation ;  and  wiih  an  impellii.^  anguish,  sufficiently  great  to  over- 
come his  dread  and  horror. 

Fourthly.  The  laws  of  the  landptovide,  in  the  mean  ttme,  a  re^ 
sonahle  reparation  for  all  those  injuries,  which  the  wisdom  of  LifpS' 
lators  has  thought  it  proper,  or  been  able,  to  redress  ;  and  mt  lemi 
as  ample  revarati<m  for  him,  as  for  his  fellow-citizens.  With  thii 
reparation  ne  is  bound  to  be  contented,  until  the  Legislature  shaB 
provide  further  redress.  If  he  has  a  right  to  adjudicate  his  own 
cause,  and  redress  his  own  injuries ;  every  other  citizen  has  the 
same  right.  But  if  this  pretended  right  were  to  be  universally  ez^ 
ercised,  government  would  be  at  an  end.  Anarchy,  the  real  bet 
of  Pandora,  would  empty  all  its  miseries  upon  mankind  $  and  the 
nation  be  converted  into  a  band  of  murderers.  He,  who^  in  thii 
plainest  of  all  cases,  will  not  submit  to  the  ordinances  of  man  fif 
the  Lord?s  sake,  will  certainly  receive  the  ccnJkmnalian^  wUch  he 
has  threatened. 

Fifthly.  There  are  innumerable  other  cases,  in  which  grtaier  m 
juries  are  done  to  mankind,  than  those  which  are  done  to  the  duetKstf 
and  in  their  nature  far  more  distressing.  Those  who  have  suffered 
them,  have  therefore,  according  to  this  argument,  a  right  to  relieve 
themselves  of  their  distress,  by  taking  away  the  lives  of  those  who 
have  occasioned  it.  My  neighbour,  for  example,  has  ejected  me 
from  my  farm  by  an  injurious  lawsuit ;  and  left  me  and  my  family 
beggars.  He  has  accused  me,  as  a  merchant,  of  neglieencei 
fraud,  or  bankruptcy ;  and  by  bringing  my  creditors  sudc^nTy  up- 
on me,  has  not  only  stripped  me  of  my  property,  but  precluded 
me  from  acquiring  any  more.    He  has  negligently  brought  the 


pEB.  CZVI.]  DUELLDia  305 

imall-pox  into  my  family ;  and  has  thua  produceit,  the  death  of  my 
jhild*  He  has  impeached  my  Christian  character ;  and  has  thus 
floured  my  excommunication  from  the  Church  of  Christ.  All 
Uhese  injuries  are  incomparably  greater  th^n  those,  which  usually 
■ccasion  duels.  But  who,  that  has  any  conscience,  or  any  common 
sense,  will  say,  that  I  am  warranted,  for  any,  or  all,  of  them,  to  put 
my  neighbour  to  death  ?  Who  does  not  see,  that  were  these  and 
oUier  injuries,  of  a  similar  nature,  to  be  retributed  in  this  manner,  a 
nation  would  be  converted  into  banditti,  and  their  country  into  a 
fieldofblood? 

8.  The  Duellist  acts  against  the  most  powerAd  and- persuasive 
rtafam;   unanswerably,  obliging  him  to  abstain  from  Mm  guiltg  ^ 
conduct* 

In  the  first  place,  He  most  wickedly  exposes  his  own  life  to  destruc* 
Hon.  On  this  subject  I  shall  not  dwell  at  present,  because*  I 
expect  to  consider  the  subject  of  suicide  in  the  succeeding  dis- 
course. 

Secondly.  He  wickedly  deserts  the  duties,  which  he  owes  to  hi$ 
family  ana  friends.  If  ne  h^s  parents}  he  owes  them  reverence  j 
gratitude;  strong  affection;  filial  care  in  sickness,  and  old  age, 
support  if  they  need  it;  and  the  innumerable  consolations,  which 
that  evil  day  so  aifectingly  demands,  and  which  none  but  a  child  is 
other  able  or  willing  to  give.  Particularly,  he  owes  them  that 
exGuisite  enjoyment,  which  is  found  in  the  affectionate,  virtuous, 
ana  amiable,  conduct  of  our  beloved  offspring.  If  he  has  a  Wife} 
he  owes  her  all  that  provision  for  her  wants,  and  for  her  comfort} 
the  consolations  in  sickness,  and  in  sorrow;  the  kindness  and  ten- 
derness; the  faithful  and  affectionate  attention  to  her  happiness  ; 

bich  he  has  engaged  in  the  marriage  covenant :  a  covenant,  in- 

jiving,  substantially,  the  same  obligations  with  those  of  an  oath. 
If  he  has  Children  ;  he  owes  them  sustenance,  cducatioji  in  knowl- 
edge, business,  and  religion ;  his  ibstructions,  and  his  government; 
his  example,  and  his  prayers.  But  all  these  duties, .  required  by 
die  Infinite  Authority  of  God,  and  in  the  two  last  cases  voluntarily 
assumed  also  by  himself,  he  basely  deserts ;  and,  by  entering  the 
field  of  riftughter,  cuts  tkum.  off  from  the  possibility  of  receiving, 
imd  himsHf  from  the  power  of  performing,  them.  At  the  same 
time,  he  leaves  them  all  buried,  through  life,  in  the  hopeless  agonies 
of  remembering,  and  feeling,  that  he  voluntarily  went  a«  on  ox  to 
ike  sktuglUer}  died  as  a  fool  dieth}  and  in  the  combined  perpetra- 
tion of  Suicide  and  Murder,  entered,  without  a  prayer,  and  without 
a  hope  of  forgiveness,  into  the  presence  of  his  Judge. 

But  should  he,  (a  thing  which  he  has  no  right  to  expect)  sur- 
vive the  conflict;  he  survives  only  to  present  to  his  Pasents  a 
ion,  to  his  wife  a  husband,  and  to  his  cnildren  a  &ther,  blacken- 
ed with  the  guilt  of  cold,  deliberate,  murder.  In  the  mean  iime^ 
'he  has  tempted  his  neighbour  to  the  same  enormous  8in{  and 


*. 


3e§  DUSLUKO.  [SEB.  CXVL 

entailed  vpon  Atr  ftimify  and  firtends,  also,  the  same  tremendoas 

evils. 

Thirdly.  He  does  inealeidable  and  irreparable  injuriei  to  hii 
Omntry.  He  weakens  the  Government  ot  his  countrv  by  practi- 
cally adopting  a  principle,  which,  if  right  in  Aim,  would  be  equally 
right  in  Ml  others^  anq  which,  if  adopted  by  them^  would  destroy 
social  order  in  a  moment:  viz.  that  an  individual  is  to  be  his  own 
Judge  in  his  awn  cause.  He  injures  his  country,  also,  by  robbing 
itof  ihe  services  and  life  of  one  of  its  members ;  in  all  probability, 
more  important,  as  the  case  may  be,  and  has  been,  to  its  safety 
and  welfare,  than  those  of  millions,  like  himself.  Finally,  he  in- 
rares  his  country  boundlesslv,  as  well  as  irreparably,  in  contributing 
by  his  opinions,  and  example,  to  authorize,  extend,  and  perpetuatCi 
the  same  baleful  iniquity  in  his  fellow-men* 

REMARKS. 

1.  The  observations^  made  in  this  Discourse^  present  to  %ii  one  tf 
the  strongest  examples  of  human  depravity. 

Life,  to  man,  is  his  all.  On  it  every  thing  is  suspended,  which 
man  can  call  his  own  :  his  enjovments,  his  hopes,  his  usefulness, 
and  liis  salvation.  Our  own  life  is  to  us,  therefore,  invalyable. 
As  V  0  are  most  reasonably  required  to  love  our  ntUfibour  as  owr» 
selvci! ;  his  life  ought,  in  our  estimation,  to  possess  the  same  value. 
In  conformity  to  these  views,  mankind  have  universally  regarded 
those  who  have  violently  deprived  others  of  life,  with  supreme  ab- 
horrence, and  branded  their  names  with  singular  iBftmy.  Mu^  ^ 
derers  have  been  punished,  in  every  age  and  country,  with  the  most 
awful  expressions  of  detestation,  with  the  most  formidable  array  of 
terror,  and  with  the  most  excruciating  means  of  agony.  On  the 
heads  of  murderers,  at  the  same  time,  mankind  have  heaped  curses 
without  bounds.  The  city  of  Refuge ;  nay,  the  Altar  itself,  a 
strong  tower  of  defence  to  every  other  crimmal-;  has  lost  its  hal- 
lowed character,  at  the  approach  of  a  murderer ;  and  emptied  fann 
oat  of  its  sacred  recesses  mto  the  hands  of  the  Avenger  of  bUod* 
God  hath  daid,  A  man  that  doeth  violence  to  the  blood  of  any  person^ 
he  shall  fiee  to  the  pit :  let  no  man  stay  him.  In  solenm  responsei 
the  world  has  cried,  Amen. 

But  all  these  sentiments,  all  these  rights,  all  the  obligations  of 
this  law,  the  Duellist  has  violated.  Nay,  he  has  violated  them  in 
cold  blood ;  with  the  deliberation  of  system ;  in  the  season  of  se* 
rtnity;  in  the  tranquillitv  of  the  closet.  This  violation  he  has 
made  a  part  of  his  creed,  and  settled  purpose  of  his  life  ;  a  gor- 
eniing  rule  of  his  conduct.  All  this. he  has  done  amid  the  vanous' 
advantages  of  birth  and  education ;  under  the  lieht  of  Science; 
wiill  the  jBible  in  his  hand ;  and  before  the  altar  of  his  God.  He! 
has^one  it  all,  also,  in  the  face  of  arguments,  which  have  caai-\ 
nianded  the  conviction  of  all  mankind^  except  hkuself ;  and  whid^' 
would  have  convinced  him^  had  his  mind  been  honestly  open  to 


ClfL]  DMUUIW 

life  force  of  aigument.  His  opiatons  have  been  athoudand  tiraea 
exposed :  his  arguments  have  beiln  a  thousand  times  refuted* 
A|faii2st  him  have  been  arrayed,^  in  cfferj  Christian  country,  the 
oammon  sense  of  mankind,  the  feelings  of  humanity,  the  solemn 
voite  of  Law,  and  the  Infinitely  awful  command  of  the  Eternal 
GkKl.  With  ai  moral  hardihood,  not  often  exampled  even  in  tUs 
world,  he  encounters  them  all ;  overcomes  them  all)  «od  goes  coed* 
ly  oil  ward  to  the  work  of  destruction :  as  coolly,  as  if  he  were  only 
performing  a  duty.  How  sinful  must  that  heart  be,  which  can  act 
mthis  manner! 

3.  The  GovemmerU  of  every  country  is  boundy  indispensabltfj  to 
nunish  Duelling  with  exemplary  severity^  and,  wherever  death  hoi 
Qun  the  conseauencej  toiih  aeath. 

From  the  ODservations  which  have  been  made  in  this  discoursei 
it  is  clear,  tha*  few  cases  of  murder  occur  among  mankind,  equally 
atrocious,  w  equally  deserving  of  death,  with  tnat,  which  is  com- 
mitted in  a  duel.  Every  thing,  pertaining  to  this  subject,  aUo, 
tends  towards  this  issue,  as  regular  and  uniform  means  towards 
their  projper  ends.  The  crime  being  as  gross  and  heinous,  as  mur- 
der in  other  cases ;  deserves  the  same  punishment.  It  is,  also,  far 
■lore  dangerous  to  a  community,  than  murder  in  the  customary  ac- 
ceptation. The  persons,  whom  Duelling  especially  threatens,  are, 
in  many  instances,  persons  of  distinction ;  formidable  obstacles  to 
die  ambition  of  Duellists ;  persons,  who  by  their  influence  and  tal- 
ents would  naturally  become  important  instruments  of  the  Public 
good  ;  |iersobs,  against  whom  the  vulgar  assassin  rarely  aims  the 
itrokc  of  his  dagger.  At  the  same  time,  the  ravages  of  Duelling 
are  far  more  wioely  extended ;  and  the  number  of  its  victims  is  of 
course  far  more  multiplied. 

The  manner,  in  which  God  has  judged  concerning  this  subject, 
is  awfully  displayed  in  the  following  passage  i  If  a  man  smite  any 
person  with  an  iristnanent  of  tVon,  so  that  he  die  ;  he  is  a  murderer  ; 
ike  murderer  shall  surely  be  put  to  death.  And  if  he  smite  him  zoith 
ikrazoing  a  stone  wherewith  he  may  die^  and  he  die;  he  is  a  fnuf' 
Jkrer :  the  murderer  shall  surely  be  ptU  to  death.  Or  if  he  smite 
hbn  with  an  hand-weapon  of  wood^  wherewith  he  may  ate,  and  he 
die ;  he  is  a  murderer :  the  murderer  shall  surely  be  put  to  deaths 
2%e  revenger  of  blood  himself  shall  slay  the  murderer ;  when  he 
nueteth  him^  he  shall  slay  him.  And  if  he  thrust  him  of  hatred^ 
or  hurl  at  him  by  lying  of  waity  that  ne  die;  or  in  enmity  smite 
Atfi  with  his  handj  that  he  die ;  he  that  smote  him  shall  surely  he 
jntf  to  death :  for  he  is  a  murderer.  TTu  Revenger  of  blood  niatt 
slay  the  murderer^  when  he  meeteth  him.  Whoso  killeih  my  per* 
son,  the  murderer  shall  be  put  to  death  by  the  mouth  of  witnesses: 
tut  one  witness  shall  not  testify  against  any  person^  to  cause  Km 
io  die*  Moreover^  ye  shall  take  no  satisfaction  for  the  life  of  a 
nsurderery  which  is  guilty  of  death :  but  he  shall  be  surely  put  to 
death.    And  ye  shtul  take  no  satisfaction  for  hi$n  that  is  Jled  to 


36S 


[SEB.C 


the  city  of  hU  rtfttge,  that  he  ghotdd  come  again  to  dwelt  in  t)U 
land,  unlit  the  dtalh  of  the  high  priest.  So  ye  shall  not  pollute 
the  land,  wherein  ye  art :  for  hlood  it  defihlh  the  land  ;  and  the 
land  cannot  he  cleansed  of  the  blood,  that  is  shed  therein,  but  iy  tlu 
blood  of  him  that  shed  it.  Dejile  not,  therefore,  the  land  which  vt 
shall  inhabit,  wherein  I  dwell:  for  I,  Jebovah,  dwell  among  at 
ekildren  ofhrael. 


1 


SERMON  CXVn. 

SIXTH   OOHHAKDICBIIT. — SUICIE 


EioDui  II.  13.— Th«u  rtoUnol  Mt 


^ 


The  next  violation  of  this  Command,  which  I  shall  have  oe- 
canion  to  consider,  is  Saicidt,  or  Stlf-Murder.  In  examining  thia 
suliic^ct  1  shall, 

I.  ConsidtT  tht  principal  arguments,  wgtd  in  Jtatijication  of  Sti^ 
cide :  and, 

II.  Shall  allegt  several  Proofiof  ilt  Criminality i. 

Before  1  proceed  to  ihe  consideration  of  the  arguments,  which 
have  been  supposed  to  justify  Suicide,  it  will  be  necessary  to  ob- 
serve, that  there  arc  two,  totally  distinct  classes  of  mankind,  by 
which  this  crime  is  committed :  those  who  are  labouring  under  the 
disease  of  melancholy,  or  that  of  derangement ;  and  tlioae,  who 
act,  in  the  same  manner,  in  the  full  possession  of  their  faculties. 
In  the  former  of  these  claEses  the  mental  powers  are  so  much  dis- 
oMered,  as  greatly  to  change,  if  not  absolutely  lo  annihilate,  the 
criminality.  The  latter  are  guilty  of  this  crime,  in  the  same  sense 
as  of  any  other.  To  the  former  class,  it  is  obvious,  arguments  on 
this  ur  aqy  Other  topic  can  be  of  no  use ;  if  addressed  lo  them 
whilu  under  ihe  influence  of  these  infirmities.  An  habitual  con- 
viction of  Ihe  turpitude  of  this  crime,  establisi 
vrbfin  possessed  of  their  full  strength  and  sount 
and  not  improbably,  so  far  influence  them,  as  b 
ble  catastrophe.  In  their  diseased  stale,  such 
fallen  under  my  observation,  have  been  incapabli 
trolled  by  the  force  of  argument.  The  observations, 
shall  make  concerning  this  subject,  will,  therefore,  be  directed  to 
those  of  the  latter  class:  to  men,  who,  in  the  full  posseasion  of 
their  reason,  from  sudden  passion,  from  disappointment  in  ibe 
pursuit  of  some  darling  object ;  such  as  Fame,  Power,  Weolih, 
or  Pleasure;  the  loss  of  some  important  enjoyment ;  the  sufifer- 
ance  of  some  severe  disgrace ;  or  the  dread  of  some  expected 
efril ,  put  an  end  to  their  lives.  These  men,  though  acting  thus 
irrationally  under  the  pressure  of  violent  feeling,  may  y»l  be  rea- 
soned with  in  their  cooler  moments.  In  these  moments  a  convte- 
lioD  may,  perhaps,  be  wrought,  and  principles  established  in  their 
''minds,  which  may  control  the  distempered  thoughts,  and  prevent 
tjie  dangerous  decisions,  too  naturally  springing  up  in  seasoiu  of 
violent  agitation. 

Vol.  fil.  47 


i    tic 

Kmi 

UvU 

L 


sons  oi  I 


^  8UICID&  JSttLCSm 

The  general  doctrine,  insisted  on  by  Mr*  Hume^  ihe  only  writer 
iHiom  I  shall  attempt  to  answer,  or  whom  I  consider  as  ha  vine  any 
slaim  to  answer,  on  this  subject,  is,  that  man  hat  a  right  to  dupoa 
9f  his  own  life.  This  he  asserts  in  various  forms  of  expression; 
all  of  them  contributing  to  show,  that  he  considered  this  right,  ai 
lo  be  exercised  according  to  the  pleasure  of  the  individuaC  In- 
deed, if  such  a  right  exists ;  the  exercise  of  it  cannot  be  limited 
in  any  other  manner ;  unless  the  limitation  be  directly  expressed 
by  Him,  who  alone  can  give,  or  limit,  the  right.  But  no  such 
limitation  has  been  expressed  by  Him.  In  the  Scriptures  this  ii 
not  even  alluded  to ;  and,  whatever  proof  the  Light  of  Natut 
may  fiimish,  that  God  has  given  us  this  right,  there  cannot  be  t 
pretence,  that  it  discovers  to  us  any  such  limitation.  The  rieht 
Itself,  therefore,  is  to  be  exercised  according  to  every  man's  ju^- 
ment ;  or,  what  will  in  this  case  be  exactly  ue  same,  according  to 
every  man's  pleasure. 

But  where  is  the  proof,  that  God  has  given  this  rieht  to  man- 
kind ?  The  arguments,  which  Mr.  Hunu  adduces  to  uus  purpose 
are  chiefly  the  following. 

1.  That  we  were  created  for  the  end  (f  effectuating  our  €wn  ei^ 
joyment  m  the  present  life.  *^  Men,"  he  says,  '^  are  intrusted  to 
their  own  judgment  and  discretion,  and  may  employ  every  faculty, 
with  which  they  are  endowed,  to  provide  for  their  ease,  happiness, 
or  preservation." 

In  a  former  discourse  I  have  explained  the  end,  for  which  man 
was  made ;  and  have,  I  trust,  satisfoctorily  proved,  that  man  was 
created  to  glorify  his  Maker  hy  knowings  reverencing^  lovingj  leir- 
tn^,  and  enjoying,  him  for  ever.  The  accomplishment  of  uis  end 
in  the  Creation  of  man  I  have,  unless  I  have  been  deceive(^ 
shown  to  be  in  the  bighest  deeree  honourable  to  God,  and  in  the 
highest  degree  productive  of  nappiness  to  map.  That  this  enc^ 
whether  the  real  end,  for  which  man  was  created,  or  not,  is  incom- 
oarably  nobler,  better,  and  more  worthy  of  God,  than  the  end 
proposed  by  Mr.  Hume,  which  is  no  other  than  the  enjoyment  of 
the  pleasures  of  sense  in  this  world,  cannot  be  denied.  No  more 
can  it  be  denied,  that  of  the  ends,  which  were  capable  of  being 
answered  by  the  creation  of  man,  God  selected  that,  which  was 
noblest,  best,  and  most  worthy  of  His  character;  unless  it  be  also 
denied,  not  only  that  He  is  Infinitely  Wise  and  Good,  but  that  He 
is  Wise  and  Good  at  all.  As,  therefore,  there  are  ends,  for  which 
man  might  be  created,  nobler,  and  better,  than  that  alleged  by  Mr. 
Himu  ;  as  one.  Infinitely  nobler,  and  better,  has  been  pointeaout; 
it  is  certain,  that  that,  proposed  by  him,  is  not  the  true  end  of  the. 
creation  of  man. 

Besides ;  the  enj[oyment  of  this  pleasure  in  the  manner,  exhibit- 
ed  by  JIfr.  Hume  himself,  is  inconsistent  with  the  existence  of  vir- 
tue in  man ;  and  much  more  with  the  existence  of  perfect  virtue. 
But  to  be  virtuous  is  to  render  more  honour  to  our  Cktsator,  to  be 


s 


flBR.  cm.]  SUICIDE.  871 

• 

more  conformed  to. His  pleasure,  and  to  enjoy  more  happineasy 
than  is  possible,  if  we  are  destitute  of  virtue.  To  be  perfectly 
Tirtuous  IS  to  render  the  highest  honour  to  our  Creator ;  to  be  per- 
fectly conformed  to  his  pleasure ;  and  to  berjperfectly  happy.  If, 
then,  God  regarded  either  Himself^  or  us ;  He  did  not  propose,  as 
the  end  of  creating  man,  the  enjoyment  of  the  happmess,  men- 
tioned by  Mr*  Hiane* 

3.  Mr.  Hume  altegesj  as  another  argument  for  tkU  right,  the  /n- 
sign^kance  of  human  lift.  ^^  In  the  sight  of  God,"  he  says,  ^'  every 
eveift  is  alike  important :  and  the  life  of  a  man  is  of  no  greater  im- 
portance to  the  Universe,  than  that  of  an  oyster." 

Our  Saviour  informs  us,  on  the  contrary,  that  men  are  of  more 
vahu  m  the  sight  ofOod  than  manu  narrows.  Common  sense  ir- 
resistibly subscribes  to  the  truth  of  tnis  declaration.  It  is  impos- 
'iible  to  believe  the  contrary  declaration.  God  unquestionably 
^ee^  things  as  they  are.  But,  as  unquestionably,  a  mind,  possess- 
ed of  the  powers  of  thought,  volition,  and  motivity ;  a  mmd,  ca- 
pable of  knowing,  and  in  many  instances  actually  knowing,  lov- 
ing, serving,  and  glorifying,  its  Creator;  a  mind,  which  can  origin- 
ate, and  diffuse,  important  good  to  its  fellow-creatures ;  a  mind, 
formed  for  Immortal  being,  and  destined  to  an  ^ndless  improve- 
ment in  knowledge,  virtue,  and  enjoyment ;  is  certainly  oi  more 
Talue  than  manv  oysters.  All  this,  however,  depends  on  the  life 
of  man.  The  life  of  man,  thi^^fore,  is  of  more  value  than  that 
of  an  oyster.  Were  it  not;  parents,  so  far  as  the  light  of  nature 
teaches  us,  might,  in  agreement  with  the  doctrine  o(  Diogenes,  and 
other  Cynics,  lawfully  roast,  and  eat,  their  clTildren ;  as  lawfully, 
as  they  mav  now  roast,  and  eat,  oysters.  A  man  of  common 
sense  would  hardly  be  persuaded,  that  Moses,  Paul,  Louis  the 
Good,  the  two  Chistavuses,  Alfred  the  Great,  and  IVdshington,  were 
of  no  more  importance  to  the  Universe,  than  oysters.  With  a  view, 
probably,  to  strengthen  this  allegation,  Mr.  Mime  asks,  ^^  iVhere  is 
the  crime  of  turning  a  few  ounces  of  blood  out  of  their  channel  /" 
By  this  question  he  undoubtedly  intends,  that  his  readers  shall  sup- 
pose Suicide  to  be  nothing. more,  than  merely  diverting  the  coursa 
of  a  few  ounces  of  blood.  If  Mr.  Hume  believed  this ;  he  'de- 
ferved  very  little  of  that  reputation,  which  he  has  acquired  for  un- 
derstandins;.  If  he  did  not  believe  it ;  the  question  does  very  little 
honour  to  his  candour,  or  sincerity.  It  is  no  crime  to  turn  a  few 
ounces  of  blood  out  of  the  channel.  Often  it  is  a  duty ;  because 
it  is  the  means  of  preserving,  or  restoring,  health.  IMkny  ounces 
of  blood  may  be  thus  diverted  from  their  course;  and  life  be  not 
only  continued,  but  invigorated,  and  prolonged.  In  this  case,  the 
sphere  of  man's  usefulness,  and  duty,  and  comfort^  may  in  this 
world  be  enlarged;  and  his  happiness  in  the  world  to  come  secure 
ed,  and  increased.  3ut  the  destruction  of  human  life,  by  what- 
ever means  it  is  accomplished,  terminates  usefulness,  duty,  and 
comfort,  in  the  present  world ;  and,  if  voluntarily  accomplishedt 


^nrweMi  Hm  eziittoce  of  happineM  in  the  world  to  eooie.  The 
^Stftnce  between  these  thinss,  at  intended  by  JMr.  Uumt^  is  d 
i^m^ne  infinite.  The  phraseologyi  which  apjiropriately  exprciies 
the  po6|  oannot,  thererore,  be  employed,  consistently  with  propiie- 
1^1  nor  with  even  vulgar  bonestVi  to  denote  the  other* 

3*  I%s  sonie  wriiw  argues  tku  right  from  the  Smalhu99  rffh» 
Objects,  and  AccidentSj  hy  which  the  life  of  man  is  frtfmtnti^  4^ 
strojfed  mithoui  his  concurrence.  ^*  A  hair,"  he  sajs,  ^  a  fly,  an  in- 
••ect,  is  able  to  destroy  this  miehty  being,  whose  life  is  of  «uch  in- 
|K>rtance»  Is  it  an  absurdity  then,"  he  asks,  '^  to  suppose,  th^t  hu- 
man prudence  may  lawfully  dispiose  of  what  dependa  on  aacb  ioiif- 
.nificant  causes  ?" 

To  this  question  the  reply  is  easy,  and  complete. 

The  destruction  of  human  life  by  a  fly,  an  insect,  or  a  bail,  ii 
,#ecoro|Jj#hed,  ajs  everv  man  jMrfecUy  well  knows,  and  as  even 
Man  baUtualiy  says,  b^  the  immediate  Providence  of  Grod*  b 
the  case  of  Suicide^  it  is  destroyed  by  the  will  of  man  hiuMeU^ 
God,  who  save  life,  has  an  unquestionable  right  to  take  it  awaj. 
It  is  yet  to  oe  proved,  that  man,  who  has  only  received  it  finm 
God,  has  a  right  to  destroy  it  without  the  known  penmsaioD  of  itt 
Author. 

4.  This  assertion  isj  however^  denied  by  Mr*  Hume  f  smd  he  iK- 
rectly  declares j  that  Stdcide  is  as  absolutely  the  work  ^f  GM,  ms  rm 
nf  those  6v<n^,  specUied  under  the  precedtng  head*  ^  When  I  fMl 
upon  my  own  sword ;"  he  says,  *^  i  receive  my  death  equally  fiw 
tfie  hands  of  the  Deity,  as  if  it  had  proceedea  from  a  iion,  a  pie- 
eipice,  or  a  fever.'' 

JMr.  Hume  does  not,  in  this  Essay,  any  where,  in  form,  dacan 
die  question.  Whether  man  is  amoral  agent,  in  such  a  sense,  as  to 
be  accountable  for  his  actions,  and  to  Be  deserving  of  praise  er 
.  blame,  punishment  or  reward.  But  it  is  evident,  that  he  all  along 
proceeas  upon  the  supposition,  that  man  is  not  such  an  agent.  Of 
this  he  has  given  very  numerous,  and  very  plain,  indications.  A 
wry  clear  and  decisive  one  is  found  in  the  declaration,  whidil  im 
'BOW  considering.  If  man  is  not  such  an  agent ;  all  the  obsonrii- 
tions  in  this  Essay  might  have  been  spared.  For,  plainly,  no  ac- 
tion of  man  could,  in  this  case,  be  ot  a  criminal,  because,  it  corid 
'Mt  be  of  a  moral,  nature.  In  this  case,  it  would  be  equally  Mit 
\lo  censure  a  post,  or  a  wall,  for  falling  upon  a  man,  and  kiui^ 
Jmh,  as  to  censure  an  assassin,  fii>r  producing  the  same  catastioplie 
by  an  act  of  murder.  If  a  man  be  not  such  an  agent ;  idl  inqsi- 
•fies  concerning  the  moral  nature  of  his  actions  are  nugaloiy  jbe- 
^Muse  they  are  unmeaning.  Mr.  Hume,  particnlariy,  on^  oeftr 
.  Mohave  written  the  numerous  things,  which  he  has  so  atreanouslv 
Wged  concerning  right  and  wronj;,  in  the  difepent  parts  of  Ins 
Irorks.  Neither  rectitude,  nor  its  opposite,  aie  predicable  d 
imUss.  yfhyt  Because  they  are  not  moral  agenU.  If  Mos^affe 
.Mt  monk  luteals;  aeilber«wottkl  tjiete  attiibatea.  be aiqr  mwa  pse- 


8KR.  CXVIL]  SUICmS.  |||^ 

dicable  of  them.  But  if  men  are  moral  agents ;  then  those,  whUh  • 
are  called  human  actions,  are  not  in  any  such  sense  the  acts  of  God^ 
as  to  prevent  men  from  being  accountable  for  them,  or  to  prevent- 
them  from  being  truly  commendable,  and  rewardable,  for  one  class 
of  such  actions,  and  blameworthy,  and  punishable,  for  the  opposite. 
All  nations,  in  all  ages,  have  accordingly  censured,  and  punished, 
such  as  were  guilty  of  one  class  of  these  actions,  and  praised,  and 
rewarded,  such  as  performed  the  other.  On  this  foundation  rests 
all  human  intercourse,  and  all  human  discipline.    The  child  is 

Eunished  at  home,  and  at  school ;  because  he  is  considered  af 
aving  done  that  which  is  wrong ;  and  rewarded  in  both,  because 
he  is  considered  as  having  done  that  which  is  right.  On  the  sam^ 
grounds  men  are  disesteemed,  hated,  censured,  and  punished  even 
with  death ;  or  approved,  loved,  applauded,  and  have  their  merit 
acknowledged  by  the  most  ample  reward.  As  this  has  been  the 
universal  conduct  of  men  from  the  beginning;  it  is  a  clear  and 
full  testimony  of  the  views,  entertained  by  tne  human  mind  con- 
cerning this  subject.  It  is  further  to  be  observed,  that  men  can- 
not act  in  any  other  manner.  The  admission  of  the  doctrine,  that 
mankind  are  not  such  agents,  would  ruin  the  world.  Nor  ought  it 
to  be  forgotteg,  that,  almough  many  persons  have  thought  proper 
to  assert  this  doctrine,  not  an  individual  among  them  has  ever  been 
fbund,  who  acted  in  conformitv  to  it :  not  one,  who  did  not  as  bit- 
terly complain  of  what  he  called  wrones,  or  vindicate  as  stren- 
uously what  he  called  his  rights,  as  his  fellow-men.  But,  should  we 
admit  this  argument,  it  wiliproye  more,  than  either  we,  or  even 
Mr.  Htune,  may  be  aware  of ;  at  least,  more  than  he  intended.  If 
men  are  not  moral  agents;  if  their  voluntary  actions  are  merely 
the  acts  of  God ;  then  it  will  follow,  that  equally  with  Suicide, 
their  frauds,  lies,  oppressions,  and  murders,  are  acts  of  God* 
Should  a  swindler  cheat  Mr.  Hume  out  of  his  estate ;  or  an  assas- 
sin plunge  a  poniard  into  his  bosom ;  it  would,  I  think,  be  a  very 
odd,  a  very  unsatisfactory,  consolation  to  him,  to  be  told  by  the 
villain,  that  he  ought  to  be  perfectly  contented  with  the  villainy, 
since  it  was  only  an  act  of  his  Creator. 

5.  Another  argument^  alleged  by  Mr.  Hume  for  the  right  m  ques^ 
turn,  is,  that  Suicide  does  not  disturb  the  Order  of  the  Universe. 
"  There  is  no  being,"  he  says,  "which  by  ever  so  irregular  an  ac- 
tion can  encroach  upon  the  plan  of  the  Creator's  Providence,  or 
disorder  the  Universe.'' 

If  Mr.  Hume  intended  by  this  declaration,  that  God  rules  all 
things  with  such  an  universal  and  absolute  dominion,  as  that  non^  . 
can  stM  His  Hand,  nor  any  being  lawfully  say  vnto  Him,  What 
doest  'Aou  ?  as  that  he  wifl  bring  ^*  eood  out  of  the  evil,  and  or- 
der out  of  the  confusion,"  occasioned  by  sin ;  he  has  undoubf  cdly 
declared,  here,  a  truth  of  high  importance.  Unfortunately  for 
him,  however,  this  truth  will  contribute  nothing  to  the  support  of 


g74  StnGOMB. 


is  cause*  No  being  can,  indeed,  resist  the  hand  of  God.  But 
every  sinner  wishes  to  resist  it ;  aiul  in  this  wish  becomes  gqik]^ 
l^teful,  and  deserving  of  punishment. 

In  this  declaration,  and  many  others,  contained  in  the  sass 
Treatise,  the  Author  studiously  avoids  mentioning,  what  he  ee^ 
every  where  to  have  strongly  insisted  on,  Ihe  broody  and  o6vioii», 
disiinciion  bMaun  ike  Providential^  and  the  Prscepltve,  Will  of  GfsA 
It  is  unquestionably  a  part  of  the  Providentiikt /Jji  ill  of  God,  to  po^ 
mit,  for  reasons,  (inscrutable  by  us,  at  least  Wk  nost  instances,  but 
undoubtedly  sufficient  in  themselves)  the  existence  of  sinful  ac- 
tions. But  it  is  no  part  of  his  Preceptive  Will,  either  to  require, 
or  to  allow,  them.  His  preceptive  Will,  or  in  other  words  tke 
Moral  Law,  requires  of  all  Intelligent  beings  perfect  holiness :  a 
disposition,  perfectly  loving  what  He  loves,  and  hating  what  He 
hates.  So  evident  is  this  truth,  that  all  nations,*  not  absohtfrl^ 
sunk  in  ignorance,  have  discerned  it,  to  a  considerable  extent,  bj 
the  mere  light  of  nature.  The  Savages  of  the  Western  WUdtamm 
have  acknowledged,  equally  with  the  Greeks  and  /Zomiiiu,  thai  R^ 
verepce  and  Gratitude  were  due  to  their  Gods ;  and  thait  they  le* 

Suired  of  men  justice,  truth,  and  kindness,  to  their  fellowHSCik 
ir.  Hume  himself  would  not  dare  to  say,  that  God  .does  not  low 
these  things ;  nor  that  he  does  not  require  them  of  his  creature^ 
any  more  than  He  loves,  and  requires,  impiety,  ingratitude,  injoiF 
tice,  falsehood,  and  cruelty.  He  would  not  say,  £at  God  st  aU 
loves,  or  requires,  the  things  last  mentioned.  Loose  as  his  appn- 
liensions  concerning  Religion  and  Morality  were,  he  would  not  say, 
that  God  does  not  hate  the  crimes,  which  1  have  specified^  nor 
that  He  has  not  forbidden  them  to  mankind.  He  would  not  sav, 
that  these  crimes  are  equally  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God,  equally 
pleasing  to  Him  as  actions  of  his  Intelligent  Creatures,  witn  tk!e 
virtues^  mentioned  above. 

But  all  this  he  must  say,  in  order  to  make  this  allegation  an  ar- 
gument to  his  purpose. 

If  no  action  of  any  being  can  be  so  irre^Iar,  as  to  be  opposed 
to  the  Preceptive  Will  of  God ;  then  it  will  follow,  that  impiety^ 
ingratitude,  profaneness,  atheism,  fraud,  lying,  oppression,  injus- 
tice, adultery,  rape,  and  murder,  are  equally  agreeable  to  the  drea^ 
tor  with  impiety,  justice,  truth,  benevolence,  purity,  and  mercy* 
Then  it  wiU  follow  al^o,  that  God  is  wholly  indifferent  to  aU 
these  objects ;  and  that  all,  which  is  meant  by  right  and  wrofi|^ 
holds  exactly  the  same  place  in  His  estimation,  and  pleasure. 
In  other  words,  it  will  £d11ow,  that  the  Creator  of  the  Univent 
is  wholly  regaidless  of  the  moral  character  and  conduct  of  Ififr 
creatures. 

6.  Mr.  Hume  insists^  that  SMcide  does  no  harm  to  Society^  or,  it 
ike  least,  thai,  as  iy  cutting  off  Us  life  in  this  manner  he  m^ 
:e  do  good^  hedges  the  least  supposable  harm  to  Societ]f» 


CXfIL]  SUICIPB.  370 

To  this  I  answer,  that  if  he  has  friendt ;  he  compels  them  to 
lament  his  death,  witli  views  peculiarly  distressing  by  their  per- 
plexity, and  with  feelings  of  agony  and  despair,  rerhaps  no 
object,  unless  the  person,  who  is  cut  off  in  tne  unrepentea  guilt 
gf  murdering  another,  is  regarded  with  more  painful  emotions, 
then  a  beloved  friend,  who  has  voluntarily  terminated  his  own 
life.  The  minds  of  those,  whom  he  leaves  behind  him,  sink  un- 
der the  remembrance  of  what  he  has  done  in  this  world,  and  trem* 
Ue  to  follow  him  la*  another.  Keen  indeed  must  be  the  edge  d 
that  distress,  which  finds  its  only  consolation,  and  its  only  hopei 
in  the  doubting  belief,  perhaps  in  the  faint  conjecture,  tnat  tht 
friend,  whom  it  deplores,  was  hurried  out  of  life  oy  the  impulse  oi 
delirium. 

If  the  Suicide  had  a  family^  he  has  robbed  them  of  all  that  ad* 
vice,  consolation,  sympathy,  and  those  kind  offices  universailyi 
which  he  owed  to  llum  in  a  peculiar  manner.  All  these  he  haf 
Towed  to  his  Wift.  God  has  made  it  his  duty  to  render  them  to 
his  Children.  To  both,  also,  he  is  bound  by  the  same  obligations 
lo  furnish  support.  This,  perhaps,  he  may  have  provided.  If  he  . 
haA;  he  has  still  robbed  his  children  of  tnat  parental  instnictioii^  «;. 
^▼emment,  habituation,  and  example,  which,  together,  constitute^ 
in  most  cases,  far  the  most  arduous,  the  most  important,  and  the 
most  useful,  labour  of  man ;  and  the  chief  duty,  wnich,  ordinarily, 
he  has  it  in  his  power  ever  to  perform. 

Sockly  a/  largA  he  robe  of  one  of  its  members ;  and  of  all  the 
<lutie8  wnich  that  member  owed  to  society. 

At  the  same  time,  he  has  presented  to  all  these  an  Exampte, 
which  if  followed  by  them,  would  destroy,  at  once,  the  family,  the  , 
community,  and  the  world.  Yet,  if  he  has  acted  rijght,  it  would 
be  equally  right  for  them  to  follow  him.  No  rule  can  be  formed 
concerning  this  subject,  but  an  universal  one.  JIfr.  Hwne  has  iiliade 
it  such.  If  his  rule  be  right,  then ;  by  merely  adhering  to  recti- 
fade,  the  present  inhabitants  of  the  world  may  exterminate  the 
race  of  man  in  a  moment.    But, 

7.  JIfr.  Uunu^  itpposing  that  men  would  not  make  me  of  thi$ 
righty  unless  in  circumstances  of  distress,  considers  TTUs^  at  leasi^ 
a$  a  justifying  cause  for  Suicide* 

*^  Most  people,  ^^  he  says,  '^  who  lie  under  any  temptation  to 
abandon  existence,  are  in  some  such  situation ;  tnat  is,  in  age,  or 
under  infirmities ;  incapable  of  promoting  the  interest  of  Society ; 
a  burden  to  it ;  or  afflicted  in  some  manner  or  other." 

On  this  subject  I  observe. 

First.  TTuLt  this  situationj  whatever  it  may  ie,  is  one,  m  whidi  Qod 
h¥  His  Providence  has  placed  the  man.  It  is,  therefore,  a  situa* 
hon,  of  which  we  cannot  reasonably,  or  lawfully,  complain;  unless 
We  can  lawfully,  and  reasonably,  complain  ot  the  Dispensations 
ofGod 


370 


[SER.  CXTIL 


Secondly.  It  ha  situation,  in  which,  if  me  ptrform  our  duly,  wt 
may  glorifu  our  Makrr,  bu  volunlarili/  jvlJiUing  such  desigm,  at  h- 
finitt  Wisdom  and  Goodness  has  thought  proper  to  acconwliah  bu 
our  instramentalili/,  and  has  put  it  into  our  power  to  accomplish,  ft 
may  be  said,  thai,  should  m"!  put  an  end  to  our  lives,  God  ioiti  Hill 
be  glorified.  I  grant  It.  But  wc  shall  not  be  voluntary  inslru- 
menls  of  his  Glory.  This  is  our  duly,  and  our  only  duly.  If 
this,  then,  be  not  done  ;  our  whole  duly  is  left  undone.  If  we  re- 
fuse to  do  this  duty ;  we  refuse  to  obey  the  will  of  our  Maker, 
rebel  against  His  government,  and  voluntarily  oppose  his  de- 
signs. This  is  sin;  and  the  only  sin.  What  the  duties  are,  la 
which  we  are  called  in  cases  of  affliction,  common  sense,  even 
without  the  aid  of  Revelation,  might,  one  would  think,  determine 
with  no  great  difficulty.  They  are  obviously  the  duties  of  sub- 
mission, dependence,  patience,  and  fortitude ;  prayer  for  our  sup- 
port, and  deliverance;  and  such  efforts  for  this  end;  as  arc  coo- 
flislent  with  the  spirit  here  specified.  By  this  character,  God  is 
as  really,  and  certainly  glorified,  as  by  any  other,  which  man  can 
exhibit.  It  scarcely  needs  the  aid  of  Revelation  to  discern,  that 
submission  to  God  must  be  an  acceptable  olTering  lo  him.  But 
if  we  put  an  end  lo  our  lives,  brcaiise  we  are  afflicted ;  we  de- 
clare, in  the  decisive  language  of  action,  that  we  will  not,  or  can* 
not,  bear  what  God  has  been  pleased  to  lay  upon  us.  In  the  for- 
mer case,  we  declare,  that  we  will  not  submit  to  his  dispensation]: 
in  the  latter,  we  moreover  declare,  that  iho  burdens,  which 
he  lays  upon  us,  are  such,  as  we  cannot,  and  therefore  such  as 
we  ought  not  to  endure  :  of  course,  that  they  are  oppressive,  and 
unjust. 

Thirdly.   The  Case  is  falsrly  stated  by  Mr.  Hume. 

There  is  no  situation,  which  is  intolerable,  escept  those,  I 
which  life  is  brought  to  an  end  without  our  intervention  :  and  tl 
are  Incapable  of  being  referred  to  the  case  in  hand.  In  c 
other  case,  we  can  sustain  our  afflictions,  if  wc  please.  That  it 
our  duty  to  siuiain  them,  and  to  sustain  them  willingly,  cannot  I 
denied,  unless  by  him,  who  also  denies,  that  it  is  our  duty  to  obi' 
God  in  any  case.  ' 

Fourthly.  Tke  position  of  Mr.  Hume,  that  we  are  useless  Jo  S 
citty,  in  any  sitxiation,  in  which  we  can  become  guilty  of  Suicide,  ■ 
also  false. 

It  will  be  remembered,  that  I  all  along  except  cases  of  Melu 
choly  and  Delirium.     It  is  however  ti-uc,  that  even  in  these  call 
no  man  can  know,  that  he  will  not,  at  some  future  time,  be  used 
to  his  fellow-men.     In  every  other  case,  a  man,  possessed  of  d 
power  of  contriving  and  executing  his  own  destruction,  may S 
and  can  know  that  ne  may  be,  useful  to  the  world.     I  can  thin' 
rto  case,  more  favourable  to  the  position  of  ^.  Hume,  than  ih 
a  person,  confined  for  a  long  period  to  bis  bed;  or,  as  it  is  c 
monly  termed,  btd-rid.     A  man,  even  m  this  situatioD,  maV)  f 


«EK.  CXVir.J  SUICIDE.  377 

pleases,  be  extensively  useful.  The  patience,  fortilude,  and  piety, 
with  which  he  may  sustain  this  trying  affliction,  may  be  among 
the  most  edifying,  and  persuasive,  proofs  of  the  reality,  pow- 
er, and  excellence,  of  tlie  religion  which  he  professes,  and  the 
efficacious  means  of  conversion,  and  salvation,  to  muhitudes.  Mr. 
Hume  himself  says,  that  the  damnation  of  one  man  is  an  infinitely 
grealpr  evil,  than  the  subversion  of  a  thousand  millions  of  king- 
doms." This  evii,  the  man,  who  is  bed-rid,  may  prevent  wiUi 
regard  to  himself,  and  with  regard  to  others;  and  may  also  be 
the  means  of  accomplishing  the  contrary  inestimable  good.  It 
cannot  be  said,  that  such  a  man  is  useless.  At  the  same  lime,  it 
is  a  false  supposition,  that  a  man  can  be  useless,  who  acts  as  be 
ought,  or,  in  other  words,  does  his  duty  in  any  situation,  in  which 
God  is  pleased  to  place  him.  God  does  nothing  in  vain.  Still 
less  can  it  be  supposed,  that  he  places  an  Intelligent  being  in 
any  situation,  in  which  his  obedience  to  the  Divine  Will  must  be 
useless. 

Fifthly.  J^tilhtr  is  it  true,  that  any  man  u  necessarily  a  burden  to 
Sociely. 

A  vicious  man  is,  I  acknowledge,  often  such  a  burden.  But  he 
is  not  necessarily  vicious.      His   sloth,   prodigality,  insincerity, 

Erofaneness,  falsehood,  fraud,  cruelty,  or  whatever  vice  he  may 
e  guilty  of,  is  wholly  the  result  of  his  own  choice.  The  mo- 
ment he  renounces  these  evils,  he  will  become  not  a  burden,  but 
a  blessing. 

A  virtuous  man  may  become  unable  to  support  himself;  may 
be  incurably  sick,  or  hopelessly  bereft  of  his  most  useful  faculties ; 
and  in  either  of  these  situations  may  be  esteemed  a  burden  to  So- 
ciely  by  the  lazy,  the  covetous,  and  the  unfeeling.  But  he  will 
be  esteemed  such  by  no  virtuous  man.  He,  who  remembers,  that 
ministrations  of  kindness  to  the  least  of  Chriat^s  brelhrtn  will  be  ac- 
cepted as  offerings  to  himself,  will  never,  unless  in  some  unhappy 
moment  of  sloth,  or  worldliness,  think  the  performance  of  it  bui^ 
densome.  Christ  has  informed  his  disciples,  that  the  poor  they 
nill  alioayi  have  nith  thtm.  On  His  part  the  legacy  was  not  un- 
kind :  to  us,  it  is  obviously  a  blessing.  Nothing  more  enlarges 
the  heart,  refines  the  affections,  or  improves  the  character,  than 
kindness,  freely  rendered  to  the  afflicted.  Nothing  more  excites 
a  spirit  of  dependence  on  God ;  or  awakens  gratitude  for  his  bless- 
ings to  us  j  or  expands  the  feelings  of  benevolent  sympathy ;  or 
endears  to  us  our  fellow-men,  parlicularly  our  fellow-chrisiians ; 
or  assimilates  our  disposition  to  that  of  the  Redeemer.  Ht  to 
whom,  without  any  fault  of  his  own,  mankind  are  indebtetl  for 
these  benefits,  cannot  be  a  burden  lo  Society. 

1  have  now  reviewed  every  argument  of  Mr.  Hume,  whi  •}l,  in 
Uy  opinion,  merits  an  answer:  and  bis  arguments,  so  far  as  I  It  low, 
are  all,  of  any  importance,  which  have licen  hitherto  *Ile^[(d  in 
favour  of  Suicide.     1  shall  only  add  one  obserradon  to  rhose, 

Vou  III.  4S 


1 


378  SUICIDE.  [8£R.CXni. 

which  I  have  already  made  under  this  head.  It  is  this :  All  the  £$• 
tresses^  almost^  which  give  birth  to  this  wanton  destruction  of  human 
l^kt  ore  the  mere  effects  offniominant  wickedness  m  the  mind  ^ 
the  Suicide,  losses  at  the  gadiiiie-tabic,  disappointments  of  am- 
bition, mortified  avarice,  woundea  pride,  and  frustrated  hopes  of 
sensuality,  are  usually  the  immediate  sources  of  this  CrioM;.  In- 
stead of  killing  himself  for  such  reasons  as  these,  the  true  interest 
of  the  unhappy  man  demands  of  hini,  with  Infinite  force,  that  he 
should  live,  repent,  wd  reform. 

II.  I  shall  now  eUlege  several  Proofs  of  the  Criminalitjf  of  Suiditj 
in  addition  to  those,  which  have  been  unmoidably  specified  in  aiy^ 
swering  the  arguments  of  Mr.  Hume.     Of  these,  the 

1  •  Which  I  shall  mention,  is  f  At  Text. 

In  the  first  discourse  fi*om  this  passage  it  was  observed,  that 
the  command,  which  it  contains,  is  expressed  in  the  most  abso- 
*i  lute  manner.  Thou  shalt  not  kill ;  that  to  kill  is  the  thing  forbid- 

den, and  by  the  woixls  is  forbidden  in  all  cases  whatever ;  that 
the  words  were  chosen  by  God  Himself,  and  binds  us,  therefore, 
with  Infinite  Authority;  and  that  man  cannot  lawfully  originate  an 
exception,  nor  in  any  other  manner  limit  their  import.  These 
observations,  it  is  presumed,  cannot  be  denied  to  be  true.  Bat 
if  they  are  true,  the  text  forbids  Suicide  in  the  most  absolute 
manner. 

'Mr.  Hume  indeed  observes,  thst  the  law  of  Moses  is  aboliihei, 
except  so  far  as  it  is  established  by  the  Law  of  Nature.  A  Chxis- 
tian  will  probably  be  satisfied  of  the  Authority  of  the  Decalogm, 
without  this  condition ;  when  he  finds  it  expressly  established  hj 
Christ. 

2.  In  addition  to  this  decisive  proofs  a  proof  so  decisive,  as  to 
need  no  addition  ;  I  observe,  that  the  Suicide  hurrui  himself  to  the 
judgment  in  the  commission  of  a  gross  crime,  of  which  he  cannot 
repent.  If  we  should  even  allow,  that  the  criminality  of  this  act 
was  not  capable  of  being  proved,  so  far  as  the  act  itself  only  is 
concerned ;  it  tannot.  be  denied,  that  he,  who  commits  it,  is,  m 
some  degree  at  least,  uncertain  whether  it  be  lawful,  or  not.  To 
abstain  from  it,  he  at  the  same  time,  knows  to  be  lawful.  In 
this  case,  to  commit  Suicide  is  a  gross  sin ;  because  the  perpe- 
trator refuses  to  do  that,  which  he  knows  to  be  right ;  ana  does 
that,  of  whose  rectitude  he  has  no  assurance. 

Further.  No  person,  who  thus  puts  an  end  to  his  life,  is  assured 
that  his  salvation,  independently  of  this  act,  is  secured.  Of  course^ 
even  on  the  most  favourable  supposition,  he  puts  his  eternity  at 
hazard ;  and  ventures,  in  an  inexcusable  and  dreadful  manner, 
upon  perdition. 

Finally.  There  are,  to  say  the  least,  strong,  and  hitherto  imoi- 
iwered,  reasons  to  prove  Smcide  a  crime  ;  and  that^  of  enomum 
magnitude^ 


•tC 


S79  1 


SEB.  CXVn.]  SUICIDE. 

These  reasons  will  never  be  answered.  It  will  always  be  true 
that  (here  are  important  ends  to  be  accomplished  by  every  man 
during  the  whole  period,  through  wUch  his  life  would  extend,  did 
he  not  lay  violent  hands  on  himself.  These  ends  are  constituted, 
and  set  before  him,  by  God  Himself.  In  refusing  to  accomphsh 
them,  |the  Suicide  violates  the  highest  obligations,  under  whicn  he 
is,  or  can  be  placed.  He  is,  according  to  the  supposition,  in  af- 
fliction. This  affliction  both  reason  and  Revelation  declare  lo  be 
sent  by  his  Creator.  It  is  sent  for  the  very  purpose  of  amending 
his  character ;  awakening  in  him  patience  and  submission;  failh 
and  fortitude,  enabhng  him  to  feel  his  dependence  ;  softening  his 
heart  with  tenderness  towards  his  fellow-creatures;  exciting  in 
him  a  spirit  of  universal  obedience ;  and,  thus,  preparing  him  for 
endless  life.  1  need  not  say,  that  these  designs,  on  the  part  of 
God,  are  pre-eminently  benevolent ;  nor  that  in  refusing  to  ac- 
complish tuem,  nor  that  in  sinning  against  God,  in  this  manner,  he 
supremely  inrongs  his  own  soui. 

Human  life  is  plainly  intended  by  the  Creator  lo  be  a  mere 
course  of  duty  and  obedience.  This  is  the  direct  apjjointment  qf 
the  Creator.  To  wish  to  frustrate,  nr  reverse,  this  appointment, 
auch  more  to  attempt  the  frustration,  or  reversion,  of  it  by  overt 
acts,  is  sinful  of  course.  How  sinful,  then,  must  be  this  violent  at- 
teopt  to  oppose  the  Divine  Will  I 

But  the  Suicide  cuts  himself  off  from  every  opportunity,  from  the 
verj  possibility,  of  repenting  of  these  mullipliea  crimes.  Hurried ' 
iota  eternity  by  his  own  hand,  he  appears  before  the  bar  of  God| 
with  all  his  guilt  upon  his  head.  Should  it  be  said,  that  he  may 
secure  himself  an  opportunity  of  repentance  by  a  gradual  death ; 
I  ansver  ;  that  neither  the  temper  of  mind  with  which  he  destroys 
his  life,  nor  theviews  which  God  cannot  but  entertain  of  this  violent 
act  of  rebellion,  furnish  him  with  any  hope,  that  he  will  become 
pen  i  let.  t. 

3.  Tf.e  Scriptures  expressly  forbid  us  voluntarily  to  sink  under  any 
affliction. 

Ml)  son,  despise  nal  ihou  the  cltastening  of  the  Lord,  neither  faint 
when  ihou  art  rebuktd  of  him. 

Christ  has  said  lo  all  his  disciples.  In  Ike  world  ye  shall  have 
tribulation.  But  be  has  most  benevolently  subjoined,  In  me  ye  shall 
have  peact :  that  is,  peace,  awakened  in  ihe  midst  of  your  afflic- 
tions, or  flowing  from  them,  as  a  regular  consequence  of  your  sub- 
mission and  Sanctis  cation.  Accordingly  St.  Paul  declares  that. 
Although  no  affliction  is  for  the  present  joyous,  hut  all  are  grievous  ; 
yet  nevertheless  ihey  afttrmards  yield  the  peaceable  fruits  of  rightt- 
oumut. 

In  these  passages  we  are  required,  unconditionally,  to  sustain  our 
afflictions  with  submission,  patience,  and  fortitude.  Thiscommand 
we  cannot  disobey,  even  in  thought,  without  sin ;  much  less  in  so 
violent  an  act  of  opposition.     Suicide  is  th'.e  result,  not  only  of  a 


1 


SUICIDE.  [8ER.  CXra. 

total  want  of  lubmission,  but  of  direct  and  violent  hostility  against 
the  will  of  God.  It  is  a  declaration,  ihai  we  will  not  enttmt  iht 
chastening  of  Ood;  and  ihat  the  afflictions,  with  which  He  is  pleased 
to  visit  us,  are  intolerable  ;  and  that  they  are,  therefore,  unreason- 
able, and  unrighteous  specimens  of  oppression  in  His  admrnii^tra- 
tions.  Ao  charge  can  be  more  obviously  blasphemous,  than  this; 
more  dnsuiled  to  ihe  character  of  the  Creator;  or  more  unbe- 
coming the  mouth  of  a  creature. 

4.  The  Suicifle  w  alviays  bound  to  prolong  At»  life,  by  personal 
Dulif.s,  which  are  indispeniable. 

He  is  bound  to  secure  his  own  salvation.  He  is  bound  to  provide 
for  his  family.  If  he  performs  not  these  so  long  as  they  need  thop. 
tnd  so  long  as  it  is  in  his  power,  he  denies  Ihe  faith,  and  it  ttom 
than  an  injtdel.    He  is  bound  to  train  up  his  children  in  the  nurtun 


ness  and  salvation  of  those  around  hin 


I,  generall; 


low-men.     Universally,  whatever  is  his  situation,  he'  may,  rf  H'l 
lives,  do  good  to  himself,  and  to  mankind ;  and  this  good  hsil'' 


remote  the  hapjii- 
nerally,  of  his  ^  . 

in,  he  may,  rf  Hj 
]  this  good  htk' 
Lound  to  do,  so  long  as  God  is  pleased  to  spare  his  life.     WheB 
he  destroys  himself;  he  is  gtiilty  of  gross  rebellion  against  God  in 
*  refusine  to  perform  these  duties. 

6.    The  Scripture!  never  exhibit  Suicide  as  the  conduct  of  any,  W  , 
very  zcicked  men. 
J  ' .  Job,  David,  Elijah,  Jeremiah,  Daniel,  and  his  three  Companimij  1 

'  Christ,  and  the  Apostles  ;  underwent  afflictions,  incomparably  motf  ' 

severe  than  those,  for  which  the  Suicide  destroys  nis  life.  YH 
neither  of  these  thought  it  proper  voluntarily  to  terminate  his  own 
life.  Daniel  and  his  Companions,  Christ  and  his  Apostles,  were, 
m  most  instances,  however,  destined  to  a  violent  and  scandalous 
(Jeath :  one  of  the  very  cases  which  Mr.  Hume  has  selected,  to 
'  show  the  lawfulness  of  suicide.     This  they  perfectly  well  knevi 

but  not  one  of  ilicm  appears  to  have  thought  of  preventing  the 
pain  and  disgrace  by  laying  violent  hands  on  himself.  Thi*  case 
IS  plainly  an  estrenif  one.  None  can  be  more  so.  Yet  the  pei^ 
feci  piety  of  Christ,  ai>d  the  exemplary  piety  of  these  virtuom 
men,  instead  of  dictating  Jhis  desperate  course  of  conduct  to  lAoii, 
U>*^*  (aught  them,  severally,  to  wait  with  humble  resignation  for  the 
Y  Wfl  of  God,  and  patiently  to  receive  their  destiny  from  his  hutlL 

'  '•  The  example  of  Incse  persons  will  be  followed  by  every  virtuon 

man. 

Sard,  an  open  rebel  against  his  Maker,  and  the  intenfional  mii» 
derer  of  David  and  Jonathan  1  Akithophel,  a  traitor  to  bts  lawffl 
•  sovereign;  and  Judas,  a  traitor  'o  his  Redeemer ;  were  Suicide*. 

L  This  conduct  in  them  was  the  re.sult  of  their  dispositions;  the 

Wr  Woducl  of  such  principdea,  as  controlled  these  abiindor"d  moi. 

K  ft  is,  therefore,  ralion'ally  ai^cd,   that  Suicide,  in  the  viewrf 

"     '       die  Divine  Mind,  is  thf ;  moral  conseouence  of  the  worat  principle* 
ttnly.    On  the  contr?jy,  it  is  equally  clear,  that  Virtttt  in  the 


1.  cxra.] 


381 


Evangelical  Sense  is  totally  incompatible  with  the  perpetration  of 
this  act ;  and  absolutely  forbids  the  voluntary  destruction  of  our 
QVn  lives.  He,  who  raeditates  the  voluntary  tenninalion  of  hia 
o*n  life,  ought  solemnly  to  remember,  that  he  is  indulging  a  spirit 
which  is  directly  opposed  to  that  ofChrist,  aod  strongly  assimilated 
to  that  o{Saui,  Akilkophel,  and  Judas. 


SERMON  CXVm. 


, DHUNKIHNZat* 


r.  IB. — Jn4  bt  net  drunk  uUh  trine,  ithirtai  fa 


In  the  preceding  discourses  I  have  considered  leverat  mttl  , 
in  which  life  it  destrojftd,  in  oppoeilion  to  the  Sixth  Command  o/Ha 
Decalogue.  In  this  discourse  1  shall  make  some  observation) 
concerning  another  of  thest  methods ;  viz.  Drunkenness. 

Drunkenness  is  nearly  allied  to  Suicide.  It  Is  equally  certain 
means  of  gbortening  life.  The  principal  difference,  so  far  as  the 
termination  of  life  is  concerned,  lies  m  the  mode.  What  is  ap- 
propriately called  Suicide,  is  a  niddtn,  or  immediate,  Urminatitn 
of  life.  Drunkenness  brings  il  gradual  It/ to  an  end.  The  df- 
struclion,  in  both  cases,  is  equally  certain ;  and  not  materialli 
different  in  the  degree  of  turpiiudt.  In  many  instances,  indeea, 
this  catastrophe  is  brought  to  pass  at  least  as  suddenly  by  drunk- 
enness, as  by  Suicide.  There  is,  also,  another  difference  between 
these  crimes.  The  Suicide  intends  directly  to  destroy  his  life, 
and  makes  this  hia  prime  purpose.  The  Drunkard  think*  of 
ifiothii  g  iess.  The  prime  objert  in  bis  view  is  the  gratification  ti 
his  fehsh  for  strong  (Innk,  united  with  that  bewildered  elevatioii 
of  spirits,  which  he  feels  in  the  hour  of  intoxication. 

In  the  text  we  are  expressly,  and  universally,  forbidden  to 
commit  this  sin.  The  penalty,  incurred  by  the  commission,  isas 
expressly  declared  in  1  Cor.  vi.  10;  where  it  is  said,  that  jDfWii- 
arda  shall  not  inherit  the  Kingdom  of  God.  This  threatening  we 
are  not  indeed  to  consider  as  absolute,  any  more  than  others,  ex- 
pressed in  a  similar  manner.  Undoubtedly,  no  person,  who  en- 
ters eternity  in  the  character  of  a  drunkard,  will  inherit  the  kingdom 
•fGod.    But  1  know  of  no  reason  to  conclude,  that  he,  who  though 

j  once  a  drunkard,  has  become  a  penitent,  will  not  be  accepted. 

I     This  interesting  subject  I  design  to  consider  at  large  uiid»  iht 
following  heads. 

1     I.  ThtJfatwre; 
II.  Tht  Cauta  ; 

j     III.  TTit  Evilt ;  of  Drunkennett ;  and, 

J     IV.   The  Mtana  ;  of  avoidirig  it, 

I.  I  ihall  make  a  f  em  obiervatioM  concerning  the  natur*  of  Sb 
•Jn. 

Drunkenness  is  that  singular  state  of  man,  in  which  he  loMii 
either  partially,  or  wholly,  the  use  of  his  bodily  and  mental  po^ 


i 


m.  eXTW.J  U9WNKENRBS& 

•rs,  under  the  operation  of  spirituous  drink,  op'nan,  of  odter  meant 
of  intoiication. 

Dmiikeiiness  is  either  occasional,  or  habitual. 

Occasional  Drtenkenneas  exists  only  in  irregular,  separate,  soU- 
tary,  or  cveo  single  instances ;  Qnd  is  produced  aometimcs  by  de* 
sign,  and  Eometimes  by  accident. 

Habitval  Drunktnn^a  is  a  frequent,  and  usually  a  regular,  in- 
toxication ;  occasioned  by  that  increased  and  peculiar  love  of 
strong  drink,  which  is  generated  by  Occasional  drunkenness. 

Haoitoal  Drunkenness  will  be  the  principal  subject  of  this  dis- 
course. It  will  only  be  necessary  to  remark  concerning  Occasion- 
al Drunkenness,  that  all  the  observations,  almost,  concerning  Ha- 
bitual Drunkenness,  will  be  applicable  to  it,  although  in  an  infe- 
rior degree  ;  and  that,  wherever  the  subiecl  shall  appear  to  de- 
mand any  serious  discriminations,  I  s  ha  If  endeavour  to  make  them 
in  the  progress  of  the  discussion. 

11.  The  Causes  of  this  Sin,  by  wliich  I  intend  not  the  immedi- 
ate, and  properly  efficient,  causes  ;  such  as  those  already  men- 
tioned :  but  those,  which,  although  more  remote,  are  yet  deeply 
concerned  in  the  production  of  it ;  are  principally  the /olloming. 

1.  ETample. 

By  this  I  intend,  that  we  gradually  acquire  a  habit  of  Drunk- 
enness, by  seeing  others  drink ;  and,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  ex- 
pression, catching  the  practice  merely  from  the  fact,  that  we  often 
witaess  it  in  others.  Wherever  the  character  of  those,  who  s«l 
the  example,  is  the  object  of  particular  affection,  esitem,  or  re- 
verence, the  influence  of  the  example  becomes  proportionaUy  great 
and  dangerous.  Parents,  in  this  manner,  become  peculiarly,  and 
other  relations  and  friends  generally,  powerful  means  of  seduction , 
and  ruin  to  their  children,  and  other  relatives.  In  this  case  I  sup- 
pose nothing  but  the  example,  and  the  veneration,  and  endear- 
nent,  by  which  it  is  accompanied,  to  produce  the  corruption  of 
those,  to  whom  it  is  exhibited. 

2.  Frtqutnting  those  places,  where  ulrong  drink  is  conveniently 
vbtainrd, 

A  Tavern,  especially  a  vulgar  one,  or  a  dram-shop,  or  an  ale- 
house, newly  opened,  usually  exhibits  strongly,  as  well  as  clear- 
ly, the  efficacy  of  this  cauae.  Each  of  them  soon  begins  to  attract 
[ts  train  of  drinking  customers ;  and  within  a  moderate  j)eriod  be- 
comes surrounded  ny  its  circle  of  drunkards.  There  is  scarcely  a 
greater  nuisance  to  society,  than  houses  of  this  nature;  in  which 
srariluous  liquors  are  sold,  in  small  quantities,  to  the  neighbour- 
ly inhabitants.  Millions  of  the  human  race  have  in  these  Daleful 
taUints  taken  the  first  fatal  step  towards  perdition. 

3.  Evil  Companiont, 

These  usually  combine  all  the  efficacy  of  the  former  causet^ 
with  many  additional  temptations.  They  present  the  example: 
they  provide  the  retreat,  and  the  conrcntmct.     At  the  same  time^ 


J 


[aEB.CXTIq| 


384  DRDNICENNESS. 

they  0(1(1  to  these  the  force  of  direct  antl  power^l  solicitations:, 
the  sprighlliness  of  wit ;  the  gayety  of  sports,  and  songs  ;  the  pun- 
gency of  ridicule  ;  the  influence  of  good  nature,  and  affection; 
and  the  power  of  thai  sympathy,  which  is  always  found  in  social 
festivity.  Such  a  combination  is  loo  powerful  lo  be  resisted  by 
common  minds  j  perhaps  by  any  mind,  which  is  voluntarily,  for 
any  length  of  time,  witiin  its  reach.  He  who  (requents  ihe 
ety  oljovial  companions  in  an  habitual  manner,  may  fairly  ci 
er  himself  as  destined,  in  the  end,  lo  become  a  sot. 

4.  Cwtamary  and  regular  drinking. 

Multitudes  of  persons  accustom  themselves  to  take  a  moderall 
quantity  of  strong  drink,  day  by  day,  at  regular  periods  :  in  ihe 
morning,  immediately  before  dinner,  or  in  the  evening.  Labow- 
ing  men,  in  this  country,  are,  to  a  great  extent,  accustomed  to  use 
nraenl  spirits  at  certain  given  times  of  the  day;  considering  them 
as  necessary  to  recruit  their  strength,  which  is  supposed  to  be 
wasted  by  toeir  toil.  Some  of  them,  less  atlenlive  to  pailii^lar 
times  of  drinking,  demand  stated  quantiliefi  of  strong  drink^ 
which  they  regard  as  indispensable  to  enable  them  to  pursue  ibi' 
daily  labour.  Men  of  wealth  and  fashion,  with  nearly  the  sai 
regularity,  consume  large  (juantities  of  wine,  at,  and  after,  dinner. 
In  these,  and  in  all  other  cases  of  regular  drinking,  an  habiiual'st 
tachment  to  strong  drink  is  insensibly  begun,  sirengihencd,  and 
confirmed.  The  man,  who  drinks  spirits  regularly,  ought  to 
consider  himself  as  having  already  entered  the  path  of  habilud 
intoxiration. 

fi.  Jlffiiction,  also,  is  notun/rtqucnllT/,a  Cawie  of  Drunkenntu. 

The  affliction,  here  referred  to,  is  both  bodily  and  meuIaL 
Certain  diseases  of  the  body,  it  is  well  known,  bring  with  them 
lownessof  spirits,  discouragement,  atid  melancholy.  The  patient 
oftentimes  resorts  to  the  use  of  strong  drink,  as  a  remedy  for  these 
evils;  and  finds  in  it  a  temporary  relief  from  the  pressure.  Of- 
tentimes the  physician  prescribes  this  remedy  in  form  ;  and  thus 
adds  the  sanction  of  his  skill,  and  character,  to  the  patient's  incli- 
nation. In  every  case  of  this  nature,  a  degree  of  pain  is  usuallr 
experienced  in  that  part  of  the  stomach,  which  is  sometimes  called 
the  "  Second  Sensory."  This  is  commonly  relieved,  at  least  io 
some  degree,  by  the  use  of  strong  drink,  taken,  at  first,  in  moder- 
ate quantities.  The  remedy,  however,  leaves  the  disease  worse 
than  it  found  it.  To  produce  the  desired  effect,  a  greater  quantilT 
is  soon  necessary ;  and  then  a  greater  still.  In  diis  manner  mul- 
titudes of  persons  become  Drunltards. 

The  mental  evils,  which  give  birth  to  this  unhappy  habit,  aie 
numerous.  Most,  or  all,  of  them,  however,  arc  such,  as,  instead 
of  exciting,  waste,  or  destroy,  the  energy  of  the  mind.  Of  tiui 
nature  are  a  strong  sense  of  irretrievable  disgrace ;  a  painful  con- 
■ciousness  of  perplexed,  or  desperate,  cii-cumstances ;  merited  lost 
of  esteem  ana  anection,  highly  valued  by  ourselves ;  lon^-coutifr 


ued  suspense  concerning  some  imporianl  interest;  final  discour- 
agernent  of  ardent  wishes,  or  favourite  pursuits;  togetliCT  with 
several  other  very  anxious,  and  hopeless,  situations  of  the  mindi 
From  the  distress,  suffered  iu  these  and  the  like  cases,  it  often  be 
takes  itself  for  relief  to  spirituous  liquors.  The  relief  is  necessari  t 
K  transient ;  and,  in  order  to  be  enjoyed  to  any  great  extent,  must, 
therefore,  be  often  repeated.  By  this  repeiition  the  sufferer  sooa 
'becomes  of  course  habitually  intemperate. 

6.  ^  small  number  of  persoM  Jind  a  Caiiss  of  Drunkenness  in  an  ' 
anginal,  native  appetite  for  strong  drink. 

The  number  of  these  is  so  small,  and  the  Cause  itself  so  little 
needs  explanation,  tliat  it  Is  unnecessary  to  dwell  on  lliis  part  of 
tbe  subjecL 

111.    Theprincipal  Evils  of  Drunkenness  are  tkefolloTning. 

1.  It  exhibits  the  subjtct  of  it  in  the  light  of  extreme  Odioitmess, 
and  Degradation. 

Drunkenness  always  deprives  a  man,  either  partially  or  wholly 
of  his  reason;  and  very  often  of  his  bodily  faculties.  A  man 
without  reason  is  either  a  maniac,  or  a  brute  ;  and,  for  the  time, 
fireseiils  the  eye  with  a  spectacle,  more  sunk,  than  the  brute,  and 
more  painful  than  tbe  maniac.  The  loss  of  Reason  is,  to  man,  the 
loss  of  all,  which  rendei's  him  either  comfortable,  respectable,  or 
useful.  How  painful,  how  busiiliating,  is  the  sight  of  an  Idiot ! 
How  excruciating  the  appearance  of  a  Lunatic !  How  lowerinc 
to  human  pride  and  independence,  to  sober  contemplation,  and 
real  dignity,  a  respectable  man,  transformed  by  age,  or  sicknesi, 
into  a  Driveller!  Such  a  transformation  the  Drunkard  accom- 
plishes for  himself,  during  every  period  of  his  intoxication  ;  and 
adds  to  all  the  other  circumstances  of  degradation  the  pecul- 
iarly humbling,  and  hateful  one,  that  he  has  voluntarily  degraded 
himself. 

Ja  this  situation  the  Drunkard  becomes,  in  the  literal  and  most 
emphaiical  sense,  a  fool.  His  conversation  is  that  of  a  tongue, 
vibrating  without  a  mind ;  moving,  because  it  has  been  accustomed 
to  move  (  lisping  and  babbling  an  imperfect,  cluttered,  and  drag- 

£'ng  articulation  :  a  kind  of  instinctive  effort,  resembling  that  of 
c  Idiot,  who,  having  teamed  to  count  the  strokes  of  a  Clock, 
continued  to  count,  after  the  Clock  had  ceased  to  go.  , 

In  the  mean  time,  many  Drunkards,  who  partially  lose  their  rea- 
son, set  their  passions  on  fire.  All  restraints,  iii  this  case,  vanish 
with  their  reason.  The  mind  becomes  a  furnace  of  frenzy ;  and 
the  bodily  powers,  stimulated  to  more  than  ordinary  vigour,  are 
employed  only  as  tbe  instruments  of  rage  and  violence.  In  the 
ibrmer  case,  the  man  sunk  down  to  the  level  of  a  Swine.  In  this, 
he  converts  himself  into  a  Tiger.  In  the  former  case,  he  became 
loathsome  and  despicable,  In  this,  he  becomes  equally  the  object 
of  hatred  and  terror. 

Vol.  hi.  49 


DBDNKENNE88.  [8EB.  CXTBI 

There  is,  however,  a  stage  in  the  proCTess  of  both,  at  which  dier 
lose  alike,  and  absolutely,  the  powers  of  both  body  and  mind.  Eadi 
then  becomes  absolutely  stupid:  a  mass  of  flesn,  in  which  a  soul 
once  lived,  thought,  animated,  and  controlled  ;  but  from  which  it 
has  fled,  indienant  at  the  brutal  abuse,  which  it  has  suffered.  It  has 
become  palsied,  lifeless,  and  for  the  period,  extinct,  under  a  shock 
which  it  was  unable  to  sustain. 

2.  Drunkenness  exposes  the  Subject  of  it  to  many^  and  thost  ofim 
^treme,  Dangers* 

The  Drunkard  is  always  exposed  to  be  overreached,  and  de- 
frauded, during  the  seasons  of  his  partial  insanity.  At  these  sea- 
cons,  many  persons,  devoted  to  the  use  of  strong  drink,  are  pe- 
culiarly inclmed  to  manage  business,  and  make  bargains.  The 
weakness,  the  want  of  self-control,  and  the  incapacity  of  forming 
just  estimates  of  men  and  things,  always  vfisible  at  these  seasons  in 
such  men,  mark  them  out  as  prey  for  :he  cheat  and  the  sharper. 
Accordingly  they  often  take  such  measures,  to  produce  in  them  such 
a  degree  of  intoxication,  as  they  well  know  will  effectually  answer 
their  own  purposes.  Without  any  such  preconcertion,  there  are, 
however,  always  sharpers  enoujgh,  ready  to  arrest  the  Drunkard 
in  his  intoxication,  and  Drunkards  enough  to  furnish  them  with 
victims.  At  almost  all  such  periods,  the  losses  incurred  are  ma^ 
terial,  frequently  they  are  CTcat ;  and  sometimes  they  are  fatal. 

At  other  seasons,  when  the  intoxication  is  complete,  the  subject 
of  it  is  exposed  to  extreme  personal  dangers.  Few  men,  in  this 
situation,  are  aware,  so  long  as  they  retain  a  partial  use  of  their 
limbs,  and  some  faint  glimmerings  of  understanding,  how  incom- 

Sitcnt  they  have  become  to  direct  their  own  conduct  with  safety 
f  course,  they  venture  without  apprehension  into  such  situationsi 
as  demand  the  full  exercise  of  their  bodily  and  mental  powers. 
Hence  one  of  them  has  fallen  from  his  horse ;  and  broKen  his 
jimbs,  or  his  neck.  Another  has  fallen  into  the  fire  ;  and  either 
terminated;  his  life,  or  made  himself  through  the  remainder  of  it 
a  miserable  cripple.  A  third  has  lost  himself  in  a  wintry  storm ; 
and  perished,  because  he  could  not  find  the  way  to  his  own  house. 
A  fourth  has  fallen  overboard,  and  been  drowned.  A  fifth  has 
killed  himself  by  swallowing  a  larger  quantity  of  ardent  spirits, 
than  he  was  aware,  or  than  ms  nature  could  sustain.  By  these^ 
and  many  other  accidents,  to  some  or  other  of  which  the  Drunk- 
ard is  almost  always  exposed,  multitudes  have  come  to  an  untimelf 
end. 

Nor  is  the  dan|;er  much  less  to  the  intoxicated  person  of  doingi 
without  any  design,  and  even  in  contradiction  to  his  prevailinf 
wishes,  serious  injuries  to  those  around  him.  Not  a  small  number 
of  dwelling-houses  have  been  consumed  by  these  undesigning  in* 
ceodiaries.  In  the  conflagration,  the  inhabitants,  whoever  thej 
oiay  have  been«  most  fi^equently  his  family,  andjperhaps  as  fre- 
qupntly  the  Drunkard  hinutelf,  have  perished.     Who  that  has  the 


GXVIIL]  DRU1«KENNE8&  SB? 

Iwst  share  of  sober  reflection,  or  common  sense,  left,  would  not 
tremble  at  the  first  approach  towards  this  terrible  catastrophe  ? 

3«  The  Drunkard  exposes  himself  to  many  Temptations^  and  many 
Sins* 

Of  this  nature,  indeed,  are  all  those  things,  which  have  been 
mentioned  under  the  preceding  heads.     But,  beside  these  evils,  the 
use  of  spirituous  liquors  produces  many  others.  It  excites  to  a  high 
degree  of  intenseness  most  of  the  vehement  pasiions  of  man  ;  paxv* 
ticularly  anger  and  lust.    As  the  government  of  reason  is  lost,  anA^' 
the  power  of  conscience  laid  asleep ;  the  passions,  at  all  timt§! 
sufficiendy  strong,  assume,  with  increased  strength,  the  absolatif;^ 
control  of  the  man;  and  spur  and  goad  him  on  to  everv  crime 
withia  his  reach.     In  this  situation,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  he  is 
rarely  alone.     Other  Drunkards  are  usually  around  him;  whose 
reason  is  equally  enfeebled,  and  whose  passions  are  equally  awake* 
Among  men  of  strong  passions,  and  little  reason,  disputes  cannot 
&il  to  arise.     In  such  men  disputes  generate  anger  of  course*^ 
Anger,  here,  regularly  issues  in  quarrelling ;  and  quarrelling  ter-' 
minates  in  maimed  limbs,  bloodshed,  and  death.     A  large  part  of 
the  murders,  which  have  existed  in  this  world,  have  grown  out  of 
Intoxication. 

4.  A  Drunkard  necessarily  Wastes  his  own  Property* 

This  he  often  does,  as  I  have  alreadv  observed,  by  the  foolish 
and  mischievous  bargains,  which  he  makes  during  the  hours  of  in- 
toxication. But  this  is  far  from  being  all.  In  the  mere  purchase 
of  strong  drink  he  expends  greater  sums,  than  any  man,  without 
an  arithmetical  calculation,  would  suspect;  and  obviously  greater, 
than  moderate  property  can  bear. 

.  Nor  is  this  all.  A  great  part  of  his  time  is  spent  in  preparing 
the  means  of  intoxication ;  in  the  haunts,  to  which  he  resorts  for 
k ;  among  his  drinking  companions ;  and  in  sleepine,  and  wearing 
o^  its  immediate  efiects.  All  this  time  would,  otncrwise,  hat^  * 
been  employed  in  useful  business ;  and  would  have  thus  been  Una 
means  oi  increasing,  instead  of  diminishing,  his  property. 

Nor  is  he  less  a  sufierer  bv  that  gradual  diminution  of  bodily 
and  mental  powers  mentioned  above.  His  frame,  and  limbs,  are 
•f  course  diseased.  In  this  manner  he  becomes,  at  times,  disabled 
from  pursuing  his  business  at  all;  and,  at  other  times,  obliged  to 
pursue  it  to  very  little  purpose.  What  he  does  in  this  situation  i» 
out  half  done ;  and  would  often  have  been  as  well  or  much  better 
omitted.  His  judgment  also,  and  skill,  are  equally  impaired ;  and^ 
instead  of  directing  his  business  with  success,  are  wasted  on  fee* 
ble,  fruitless  plans,  miserably  executed.  As  these  powers  c^^cay, 
he  becomes  careless,  lisdess,  and  negligent  of  his  concerns ;  and 
sees  them  continually  declining,  and  himself  daily  approaching  to- 
wards beggary,  without  either  the  power,  or  the  will,  to  stay  the 
deplorable  progress* 


.^ 


c  ■ 

•      I 


ggg  nRJCEtVNESB.  {BSILCZVK 

Thus  he  voIuntsMIy  robe  himself  of  a  comfortable  sapport  in 
old  age,  and  injthe  sickness,  to  which  he  is  so  eminently  exposed; 
and,  at  an  untimely  period,  withers  the  power,  and  wastes  the 
means  of  enjoyment. 

5.  The  Drunkard  destroys  his  Health. 

No  Constitution  is  able  to  resist  the  scorching  efficacy  of  that 
liquid  fire,  which  this  slave  of  sense  and. sin  incessantly  swallows. 
Pain,  sorrow,  and  disease,  are  its  inevitable  effects.  The  stomal 
becomes  speedily  too  much  weakened  to  receive,  and  the  appetite 
.  tb  relish,  food  *,  until  both  have  been  stimulated  by  a  new  diPMf||ht 
Speedily,  the  limbs  complain,  and  decay ;  the  senses  beooMiiili^ 
tuse ;  and  all  the  energy  of  the  body  gradually  wastes  awa|v' 

In  this  situation,  also,  the  skill  of  the  Physician,  and  the  ffovcr 
of  Medicine,  are  rendered  useless.  A  large  proportion  of  all  the 
useful  medicines,  those,  particularly,  which  the  aiseasct  of  drink^ 
ing  men  chiefly  demarfd,  arc  stimulants.  But  these  men'have  \aei 
one  of  the  most  powerful  of  all  stimulants  so  often,  and  so  long 
that  medicines  ot  this  nature  cease  to  operate  upon  their  constitn- 
tions  with  their  proper  sanative  power.  They  are  left,  therefcnv^ 
in  a  pecular  degree,  to  the  ravages,  and  sufferings,  of  disease,  with- 
out the  usual  means  of  cure,  alleviation,  or  hope. 

6.  The  Drunkard  wastes  his  Reputation. 

A  good  name  is  better  than  great  riches.     It  would  be  no  small 
consolation,  therefore,  to  a  man  of  this  description,  ander  the  \&m 
of  his  property  and  his  health,  if  he  could  at  the  same  time  pre^ 
serve  his  Character.     But,  unhappily  fc^  him,  hi»  reputation  ir 
squandered  faster  than  his  property,  and  destroyed  more  suddenly 
than  his  health.    Drunkenness  is  a  sin,  which,  after  it  has  once  be- 
come habitual,  is  so  rarely  relinquished,  as  hardly  to  admit  the 
feeblest  hope  of  reformation.     In  a  very  early  part  of  his  uro^ 
gress,  therefore,  he  becomes  branded  with  the  mil  and  entire  char^ 
acter  o{i  Drunkard.     His  reputation,  of  course,  is  lost  at  an  im- 
timely  period ;  and  his  infamy  is  of  a  premature  growth.    BM 
what  character  can  be  more  degrading,  more  indicative  of  the  loss 
of  virtue,  and  conmion  sense,  and  of  the  voluntary  assumption  of 
folly  and  self-pollution?    What  name  is  more  scandalous;  more 
evidential,  that  a  man  has  left  his  proper  rank  in  the  Creation,  am! 
sunk  himself  down  to  the  level  of  orutes ;  than  that  of  a  Solt 
But  on  this  reputation,  thus  wantonlv  and  profligately  wasted^ 
hangs  almost  all  the  comfort  and  usefulness  of  men.     To  preserre 
it  fresh  and  untainted,  therefore,  is  alike  their  interest  and  their 
,  duty  :  a  duty  indispensable ;  an  interest,  which  cannot  be  estima- 
ted.    He,  who  does  not  highly  value  it,  is  a  fool.     He,  who  wan* 
tpnly  throws  it  away,  is  a  madman. 

7.  27k«  Drunkard  destroys  his  Reason. 

Reason  has  been  often,  and  justly,  styled  "  the  Kght  of  die 
mindJ^^  Mr.  Locke  with  great  force  and  beauty  styles  it  "  rte 
jcandle  of  the  Lord^  shining  within  man.^^     It  is  our  only  ultimata 


SER.  CXvm.]  DRUNKENNESS.  339 

directress.  Even  (he  doctrmca  and  precepts  of  Revelation  can  be 
nothing  10  us,  until  Reason  has  first  discerned  k  to  be  a  Revela- 
tion i  and  determined  the  real  import  o(  its  precepts  and  doctrines. 
Still  more  absolutely  is  it  the  Arbiter  of  all  oup  ordinary  concerns. 
For  these  we  have  no  other  guide,  and  can  submit  them  to  no  other 
control.  In  a  word,  Reason  makes  us  men;  and  without  it  we 
should  be  brutes. 

But  this  invaluable  possession,  this  essence  of  his  character  as 
a  human  being,  himself,  his  all,  the  Drunkard  rapidly  wastes  away. 

8.   The  Drunkard  dtstroifi  his  Uacfutnrss. 

This  Evil  is  dreadfully  involved  in  the  loss  of  his  property, 
healA,  reputation,  and  reason.  The  perpetual  degradation,  with 
which  be  daily  appears  to  the  eyes  of  those  around  him,  not  only 
forbids  the  esteem,  and  confidence,  which  are' indispensable  to  the 
attainment  of  useful  business  ;  but  rendci-s  him  an  object  of  abhor- 
rence and  loathing.  Thus,  without  reputation  to  recommend  him 
lo  others,  or  property,  or  even  inclination,  to  befriend  them  ;  with 
health  and  Reason  so  decayed,  as  to  be  unable  to  befriend  himself; 
he  ceases  to  be  of  any  serious  use  lo  either.  Of  course,  he  be- 
comes a  burden,  a  nuisance,  a  calamity,  to  the  world.  Good  mindd 
U  have  btefi/or  this  man,  if  he  had  never  been  bom. 

In  the  mean  time,  sunk  and  lost  as  he  is,  he  continues,  and  usu- 
ally for  a  length  of  time,  to  be  a  merry  and  jovial  haunter  of  lav- 
ems  and  dram-shops :  and,  like  a  vessel  of  variolas  matter  occa- 
sionally opened,  spreads,  from  day  to  day,  a  pestilential  contagion 
through  the  clusters  of  miserable  wretches,  who  frequent  these  dan- 
gerous resorts.  Few  men  injure  a  community  more  dreadfully 
than  a  drunkard.  The  sin,  which  peculiarly  constitutes  his  char- 
acter, is  almost  wholly  derived  from  example.  Ev^ry  such  exam- 
ple therefore,  is  the  real  cause  of  extending  the  evil  lo  succeeding 
generations,  as  well  as  of  corrupting  his  contemporaries.  Were 
the  injurers  of  mankind  to  receive  their  realdetertsj  Newgale 
would  exchange  many  of  its  present  tenants  for  the  mischievous 
slaves  of  strong  drink. 

9.   The  Drunkard  niins  hii  Family. 

In  this  comprehensive  and  affecting  article,  several  particulars 
merit  the  most  serious  consideration. 

First ;  Ht  spreads  through  his  family  Iht  habit  of  Intoxication. 

The  influence  of  parental  example,  especially  when  an  evil  ex- 
ample, I  have  already  had  occasion  particularly  to  unfold.  In 
the  present  melancholy  case,  all  the  power  of  such  an  example 
is  felt  to  the  utmost.  It  Is  an  example  seen  daily,  in  the  house, 
and  in  the  parent.  It  is  seen  by  children  so  soon  as  they  can  see 
any  thing ;  and  long  before  their  minds  are  capable  of  distinguish- 
ing its  nature,  or  its  tendency.  The  parent  visibly  regards  spir- 
ituous liquors  as  a  peculiarly  interesting  enjoyment  of  sense,  at  a 
time  when  they  know  no  enjoyments  but  those  of  sense.  Of 
course,  they  cannot  but  think  it  eminendy  valuable.     The  meau 


390  DRUNKIINNESS.  [SER.  CXVm 

of  intoxication  are  also  provided  to  their  hand ;  and  their  own 
home,  so  far  as  a  dangerous  and  malignant  influence  is  concerned, 
is  changed  into  a  Dtam-shop.  The  mother,  in  the  mean  time,  not 
unfrequently  contracts  the  same  evil  habit  from  the  father;  and 
thus  both  rarents  unite  in  the  unnatural  and  monstrous  employ- 
ment of  corrupting  their  children.  What  a  prospect  is  here  pre- 
sented to  our  view !  A  husband  and  wife,  to  whom  God  has  given 
children,  to  be  trained  up  by  them  for  Heaven,  united  together  in 
taking  them  by  the  hand,  and  leading  them  coolly  to  perdition. 
What  heart,  not  made  of  stone,  can  look  at  such  a  family,  without 
feeling  exquisite  distress,  and  the  most  terrible  forebodings  ?  Con- 
template, for  a  moment,  the  innocent  helpless  beings,  perfecdy 
unconscious  of  their  danger,  and  incapable  of  learmng  it,  thus 
led  as  victims  to  the  altar  of  a  Modern  Moloch,  less  sanguinary  in- 
deed, but  not  less  cruel,  than  the  heathen  god,  before  whom  the  Is- 
raclitish  Parents  burnt  their  own  Offspring ;  and  say,  whether  you 
most  pity  the  children,  or  detest  the  parents. 

Secondly.  By  squandering  his  property  he  deprives  them  of  both 
Comfort  and  Respectability. 

The  comfort,  which  we  enjoy  in  the  present  world,  so  far  as  the 
world  itself  is  concerned,  is  principally  found  in  realizing  the  ex- 
pectations,  which  we  have  rationally,  and  habitually,  formed,  con- 
cerning our  future  circumstances  in  life.  These  expectations  are, 
of  course,  grounded  on  the  circumstances  of  our  rarents.  We 
expect  what  we  are  thus  taught  to  expect ;  and  this  naturally  is, 
that  we  receive  such  an  Education,  and  pass  through  life  in  such 
a  manner,  as  is  common  to  the  children  of. those,  who  are  in  simi- 
lar circumstances.  These  expectations  the  drunken  parent  grad- 
ually fritters  away  with  the  gradual  diminution  ot  his  Estate. 
The  mind  of  the  Child  sees,  with  more  and  more  discourage- 
ment, one  expected  gratification  vanish  after  another,  till  it  ceases 
to  expect  at  all ;  and  sinks  down  into  sullen,  or  broken-hearted 
despair. 

Among  the  evils,  which  children  suffer,  a  prime  one  is  the  loss 
of  Education,  of  that  Education,  I  mean,  which  is  suited  to  their 
condition  in  life.  The  instructions,  which  children  receive,  are 
a  debt,  which  no  parent  can  without  extreme  guilt  refuse  to  dis- 
charge ;  and  of  which  no  child  can  be  prevented,  but  by  robbery, 
as  well  as  fraud.  They  are  the  chief  means  of  his  future  com- 
fort, and  his  future  usefulness.  They  take  him  out  of  the  list  of 
Savages ;  and  place  him  in  the  rank  of  Men.  They  form  biro  tQ 
wisdom,  to  wortn,  and  to  honour.  Beyond  this,  tbev  open  to  \m 
tlie  gates  of  virtue,  glory,  and  immortality ;  and  point  to  him  th( 
path  to  Heaven. 

.  The  most  important  of  these  instructions  the  Parent  himself  19 
able,  and-  therefore  bound,  to  give ;  the  instructions  especially  of 
a  moral  and  religious  nature,  which  are  given^  and  received,  witb 
iacoflipajrably  the  greaxest  ^efficacy  in  im  mornin|;  of  I^e.    But 


8ER.  CXmi  J  MU7Xa[£NNn&.  S§1 

what  instructions  can  a  drunkard  comaKmicate  ?  What  must  be 
the  efficacy  even  of  Truth  itself,  proceeding  from  disturbed  rea^ 
son,  a  reeling  frame,  and  a  babbling  tongue  ?  With  this  image 
before  him,  what  child  can  sufficiendy  withdraw  himself  from 
shame,  and  anguish,  to  learn  at  all  ?  With  what  a  contradictory, 
and  monstrous  deformity  of  character,  must  religious  truths  and 

Srecepts  be  inculcated  on  his  child  by  a  man,  imbruted  by  strong 
rink! 

The  Government  of  Children  is  obviously  of  no  less  importaocey 
than  their  Instruction.  But  what  must  be  the  Government,  exer- 
cised by  a  Sot?  A  mixture  of  contradictions,  imbecility,  and 
rage ;  a  mixture,  which  every  child,  six  years  old,  perfectly  under^ 
stands ;  and  which  no  child  of  that  age  can  respect,  or  love.  How 
can  he  reprove  them  for  their  faults  ?  His  own  life  is  nothing  but 
a  tissue  of  faults.  How  can  he  enjoin  upon  them  virtuous  con- 
duct ?  His  own  life  is  a  perpetual  war  upon  Virtue.  How  can  he 
recommend  to  them  religion  ?  His  whole  character  is  an  insult 
.  upon  religion.  All  this  his  children  perfectly  know ;  and  tkeir 
meaning  eyes,  if  he  will  look  into  them,  will  tell  him  the  story  ia 
language  unutterable. 

Thirdly.  He  breaks  their  hearts  by  subjecting  them  to  insupportO' 
ble  MortUication. 

The  Drunkard  presents  his  family  with  the  melancholy  sight  of 
an  intoxicated  Parent:  an  image -always  before  their  eyes:  an 
imaee,  which  sinks  them  in  the  dust:  an  image,- which  over- 
whelms them  in  despair.  What  Child  can  look  at  such  an.  ob- 
ject, and  remember  tnat  this  object  is  his  Parent,  without  a  brokea 
heart  ? 

The  distsesses,  thus  experienced,  he  renders  double-edged  by 
his  own  fretful  and  passionate  temper.  All  Drunkards,  almost^ 
assume  this  temper,  of  course ;  and  in  this  manner  become  intoU 
erable  nuisances  to  those,  with  whom  they  are  most  intimately 
connected.  The  house  of  a  Drunkard  is  always  the  seat  of  dis- 
content, and  turmoil.  The  sufferings  of  his  family  soon  become 
too  great  to  be  borne  with  patience.  Complaints,  which  nature 
cannot  stifle,  beget  criminations,  reproaches,  abuses,  and  quar^ 
rels ;  terminating,  not  unfrequently,  in  wounds,  bloodshed,  ai)(i 
death. 

In  this  manner  the  temper  of  his  family  is  ruined*  They  are 
taueht,  and  in  a  sense  forced,  to  become  hostile  to  each  others 
and  prepared  to  become  enemies  to  mankind.  At  the  same  tim^e^ 
they  are  rendered  uncomfortable  to  themselves ;  and  should  they 
have  families  of  their  own,  are  made  curses  to  thepa  also. 

Their  £pirits,^  in  the  mean  time,  are  broken  down  by  an  un- 
ceasing consciousness,  which  they  cannot  escape,  that  their  dis- 
grace, in  all  its  complication,  is  known,  and  published,  wherev- 
er they  are  known.  The  heady  at  least,  of  their  domestic  body 
if  not  only  distressingly,  but  scandalously  sick  ;  and  sick  wiU^  a 


"x 


"^ 


3fS  DmrifKEI^I^HI.  [SEB.  CXJHL 

hopeless,  as  well  as  shBi0pl6I  disease.  The  membtn^  in  greater 
or  less  deCTees,  sufftr  with  the  head ;  and,  for  it  at  least,  suflTcr 
inexpressibly. 

To  all  these  things  ought  to  be  added  their  continual  apfwe- 
hension,  that  their  husband,  and  parent,  will  come  to  some  dread- 
ful disaster,  or  to  an  untimely  end,  by  some  one  of  that  numeroni 
train  of  accidents,  to  which  he  is  daily  exposed ;  and  the  teni- 
ble  conviction,  that,  should  he  even  escape  tnese  evils,  he  is  still 
going  regularly  onward  to  final  [perdition.  This  consummatioa 
of  evils  tt^ey  are  compelled  to  expect,  with  an  assurance  little 
short  of  absolute  knowledge;  and  cannot  fail  to  tremble  in  the 
morning,  lest  the  dreadful  event  should  arrive  before  the  close  of 
the  day. 

1 0.  The  Drunkard  desirovs  his  Life. 

The  Drunkard  is  as  really  a  Suicide,  as  if  he  compassed  hit 
death  by  the  pistol,  or  the  halter.  The  difference  is,  principally, 
that  the  destruction  is  slower,  and  accomplished  by  a  long  suc- 
cession of  sins,  and  not  by  one  bold  and  desperate  effort  of  tar{H- 
tnde ;  and  thdt  th^  Drunlcard,  instead  of  aiming  at  his  life,  ainii 
merely  at  the  gratification  of  his  appetite :  while  the  Suicide  maket 
his  own  destruction  his  prime  purpose.  The  Drunkard  is  a 
negligent,  the  Suicide  an  intentional  Self-Murderer.  Often,  iiK 
tleed,  the  Drunkard  -destroys  himself  in  a  moment.  Often,  as 
I  have  already  observed,  he  falls  from  his  horse-^  or  into  the  fifej 
or  into  the  water ;  or  is  brought  to  an  untimely  end  by  some  other 
fhtal  accident.  Most  usuaily,  however,  he  wastes,  graduallTi 
the  taper  of  life  before  the  time ;  and  thus  cuts  off  one  fourtb| 
one  third,  or  one  half,  of  his  accepted  time  :  even  while  he  lives, 
by  his  desperate  progress  in  sin  he  terminates  all  his  hopes  of  sal- 
ration. 

1 1 .  The  Dnmkard  rmns  his  SouL 

It  has  been  heretofore  observed,  that  the  Drunkard  destroys  his 
Reason.  In  this  manner  he  is  unfitted  for  all  profitable  use  of 
the  means  of  Grace,  and  for  all  attention  to  eternal  life.  Every 
call  of  mercy  finds  him  stupid  and  regardless.  To  every  threat- 
ening, his  ears  are  deaf:  to  every  promise  his  heart  is  insensible. 
The  power  of  Motives  he  knows  not  how  to  feel :  and  even  their 
nature  he  cannot  comprehend.  To  temptations,  on  the  contrarj, 
he  is  always  exposed,  alive,  and  awake.  Around  him,  therefore, 
temptations  throng,  and  every  tempter  fastens  on  him  as  his  prey. 
Sin,  of  course,  becomes  his  business :  and  he  draws  inifwtyiuw^ 
d  cart-rope. 

In  the  mean  time,  he  is,  beyond  most  other  men,  hopeless  of  re* 
fbfmation.  The  hopeless  condition  of  a  Sot  is  proverbial.  Amend- 
ment in  this  case  is  so  rare,  as  scarcely  to  admit  belief.  Indeed, 
Heaven  seems  to  have  stamped  this  sin  almost  always  with  rewo- 
bation.  To  complete  his  miserable  condition,  he  is  cut  off  mm 
prayer.    No  person,  who  intends  to  sin,  can  pray.     No  persoDf 


wtn  exvfli  J  innMEiiinBW. 

wlio  intends  to  tempt  himself,  as  the  Dliitokard  always  does,  <mn 
say,  Lead  me  not  inio  temptation^  but  deliver  me  from  ettil :  audi- 
no  person,  who  cannot  pray,  can  be  saved.  Thus  the  Dninkaidi 
holds  out  to  his  family,  iaind  to  the  world,  the  deplorable  spectade" 
of  a  sinner,  hardened  beyond  the  common  measure ;  exposing  him»' 
self  to  sin,  of  every  kina^  and  in  every  degree,  and  yet  voluntarily^ 
depriving  himself  of  the  usual  means  of  repentance;  hastening  tO) 
perdition,  and  yet  closing  his  eyes  to  the  aangers  of  the  precipice; 
on  which  he  stands,  and  to  the  terrors  of  the  gulf,  which  opens; 
beneath.  ;. 

IV.  I  shall  now  endeavour  summarUy  to  pond  out  the  Mtam  q^ 
Avoiding  this  dreadful  EviL 

1.  Among  thee&MeanSj  ttviU  be  readibf  seen,  must  be  theavoiJt* 
once  of  the  Causes,  by  which  Inioxication  is  soUdied^  or  encowV' 
aged. 

Most  of  these  causes  mav^  ordinarily,  be  avoided  by  a  little  can^ 
and  a  little  resolution^  No  persons,  except  the  family  of  the^ 
drunkard,  are  obliged  to  be  present,  unless  casually,  to  ezamplea 
of  this  nature.  I^  person  is  necessitated  to  freouent  the  placer 
in  which,  or  company  of  the  persons  by  whom>  tnis  evil  habit  ir 
encouraged^  Every  man  can  avoid  reffular  drinking.  That  all) 
lUs  is  the  duty  of  every  man,  a  duty  of  the  most  pressing  kind,  will 
not  be  questioned.  Every  thing,  here,  depenos  on  resisting,  oc« 
avoiding,  the  beginnings  ofevii* 

Peculiarly,  is  it  the  duty,  and  wisdom,  of  all  men  to  abstain) 
from  the  haunts  of  drunkenness,  iix>m  drinking  companions,  and) 
from  regular  Arinkin?.  Almost  all  habits  of  intooycation  are  one* 
inated  by  one,  or  otner  of  these  causes.  He,  who  becomes  m- 
miliar  with  these  temptations,  ia  advancing-  to  perdition  with  hit 
eyes  open. 

2.  jTAe  man,  who  finds  in  hinmelf  any  peculiar  relish  for  spiritu^ 
&US  liquors,  is  bound  to  abstain  from  thmn  wholly. 

The  relish  for  these  increases,  invariably,  with  every  instance^, 
and  degree,  of  indulgence*  To  cherish  it,  therefore,  is  to  make 
ourselves  drunkards ;  and  it  is  cherished  most  efficaciously  by.  ros 
peated  drinking.  No  man  will  do  this,  who  is  not  a  tsir  candidate' 
for  bedlam. 

3.  All  persons,  who  have  already  begun  the*  hdrii  of  mtoritaiionf. 
are  bound  to  desist,  absolutely,  from  all  we  of  strong  drink. 

Every  etfbrt  at  gradual  refesmation  will  only*  dieal)  him,  wlu> 
makes  it.  At  first,  it  may  seem  to  promise  something  ;•  butf  ill 
will  soon  be  fnind  to  perform  nothing  of  any  use*  T£e  candk 
date  for  reformation  will  M>eedily  find  himself  more  entangled  tfaan^ 
ever,  and  at  a  greater  oistance  from  the  reformation  mtended* 
Hard  as  the  case  may  be,  he  must  break  off*  at  once,  or  be  ruined*  ' 

4.  Persons,  not  peculiarly  in  danger  of  this  evil,  are,  nevertheless^ 
botmd  scrupulously  to  guard  against  it. 

Vol.111.  M 


DBomEEnmEsa*  [SBRiCxnOhr 

Mo  reputation,  no  wisdom,  nor  hardly  any  worth,  will  secure 
'ftv  against  Drunkenness.  This  sin  is  found  in  the  cottage,  and 
1  the  palace ;  in  the  study  of  the  Philosopher,  and  in  the  Sacred 
esk ;  in  the  hall  of  council,  and  on  the  bench  of  Justice  ;  and, 
contrary  to  what  would  seem  the  dictatei*'of  nature,  as  well  as 
deKca^,  in  the  female  sex  ;  even  in  instances,  where  distinction, 
understHiding,  amiableness,  and  refinement  would  appear  to  for* 
bid  even  the  suspicion.  In  most,  if  not  all,  of  these  cases,  the  evil 
creeps  insemibly  on  the  unhappy  subject ;  and  overcomes  him 
before  he  is  aware.  A  prime  object,  to  be  here  regarded,  is,^ 
therefer^v  t9  ketp  ilu  itmger  always  befort  our  eyesm  We  are  ever 
to  feel,  that  we  ourselves  are  in  danger;  and  to  consider  a  habit» 
dif  Uvely,  dread  of  it  as  our  first  safety.  We  are  to  form,  also^ 
viwnrDiis  and  siKndine  resolutions,  that  we  will  not  be  overcome^ 
These  we  are  invariably  to  form  in  the  fear  of  God ;  witB*  ft  aok 
emreaoUection  of  his  presence;  with  a  humble  dependence  oo 
Him  to  bless  us ;  and  with  fervent  supiriicatioas  for  Vis  blessiagr 
Toi  streagthen  our  resolutions,  and  to  Keep  our  ttdirs  awake,  we 
•re  to  marie  the  miserable  victims  of  this  sin  wi(h  anxiety  and  ter* 
ror ;  to  reeard  the  sin  itself  as  the  higkmajf  to  Hell ;  and  to  realizCi 
that  in  yielding  to  it  we  seal  our  own  reprobation. 

To  all  this  conduct  motives  can  never  be  wanting.     MuItitudeS| 
of  the  highest  import,  and  the  most  commanding  efficacy,  have 
been  already  suggested  in  the  progress  of  this  discourse*     Evenr 
heart  in  this  house,  which  is  not  formed  of  adamaat,  must  have  fett 
their  force*.    Nothing  pleads  for  it,  except  the  mere  appetite  for 
strong  drink  ^  ao appetite,  usually  unnatural,  and  createa  oy  casual 
indulgence'^    Ali  things  else  in  Heaven,  and  in  Earth,  exclaim 
againM  it  wkir  a  sbgie  voice.     Our  health,  our  reputation,  our 
safety,  our  reason,  our  usefulness,  our  lives,  our  souls,  our  fami- 
lies, and  oat  firiends^^in  solemn  and  affecting  union,  urge,  entreaty 
and  persuade,  us  tO^AbsfeamV'    Grod  commands;  Christ  solidts; 
themijl  of  Grade  infhiences^p  us  to  abstain*.    Angels  and  Glnri- 
fied  SaiitS'  behold  our  cotiduct  with  such  anxiety  and  alarm,  as 
happy  beiwp  eaii  feel ;  and  wateh,  and  hope,  to  see  our  escape* 
The  Law  with'  a  terrible  voice  thunders  in  our  ears  that  dreaoM 
denunciation,  ^^  Drunkards  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God.*^ 
Even  Hett  mmtf  hostile  as  it  isMo  our  salvation,  follows  the  rest  of 
the  UnivMsiWf  asd^  in  spite*  of  its  own^  malevolence,  subjoins  its 
dieadful  adnMtiitiODv  by  marahaUiM  before  us  the  innumerable 
ho^»  of  miectfabie  wretches,  whom  *this  sin  has  driven  to  its  man- 
mmm  of  (fespair.    Who,  that  does  not  already  sleep  the  sleep  of 
dbath,  can  Mfase  to  hear^  awake,  and  live  ? 


SERMON  CXIX. 


EiaDDi  II.  14.—Tkaa  Mhall  ntt  commit  aduUajf. 


1 


dEFORE  i  enter  upon  the  direct  consideration  of  the  precept 
in  the  Text,  it  will  be  useful,  for  the  purpose  of  illuatrating  and 
enforcing  it,  to  examine  the  nature  of  Marriage.  The  Sin,  rmme- 
diaiely  forbidden  in  the  Text,  derives,  in  some  respects,  its  exis- 
tence from  this  Inalitulirm  ;  and  is,  in  all  reapecls,  intimately 
connected  with  it,  in  whatever  manner,  or  degree,  the  Sin  may 
exist.  Such  an  Examination,  also,  derives  particular  importance 
from  the  fact,  that  it  has  been  rarely  made  in  the  Desk.  Indeed, 
I  do  not  know  where  it  has  been  made,  in  such  a  maoaer,  as  to 
satisfy  my  own  wishes. 

In  discussing  this  Subject  I  shall  consider, 

I.  The  Origin ; 

II.  The  /future  ;  and, 
in.    The  Bentjits  ;  of  Marriage. 
I.    The  Origin  of  Marriage  is  from  God. 
In  other  words.  Marriage  ts  a  Divine  InsliluiioTi, 
The  proof  of  this  position  is  complete  in  the  following  passage. 

■Malth.  xix.  3 — 6.  The  Pharisiea  aUo  came  vnto  him,  tempting 
him,  and  saying  unto  him,  h  it  latcful  for  a  man  to  put  ateau  hu 
wife  for  every  cmue  ?  And  he  answered,  and  said  unto  ibtm,  Have 
j)i  not  read,  that  He,  ahich  made  them  al  the  beginning,  made 
Ihem  male  and  female;  And  said.  For  thii  cause  shall  a  man 
leave  father  and  mother,  and  sltali  cleave  to  his  wife  ;  and  thty 
twain  shmll  bt  one  flesh.  Wkrrrfore  thiy  are  no  more  tmtin,  hut 
one  jleih.  tVhat,  therefore,  God  hath  Joined  together,  let  not  man 
put  asunder.  * 

In  this  passage  of  Scripture  our  Saviour  declares,  that,  when  I 

God  had  created  man  tnale  and  female,  he  said,  For  thii  cause  ihall  ^ 

a  man  leave  his  father  and  mother,  and  shall  eUave  unto  his  xife  ; 
and  they  twiun  shall  be  one  flesh.  Thetie,  il  is  ever  to  be  remem- 
bered, are  the  words  of  God  Himself;  as  they  are  hefe  declared 
to  be  by  Christ;  and  not,  as  they  have  often  been  enoneously 
supposed  to  be,  the  words  of  Adam.  God  made  man  male  and 
female  for  (his  end ;  and  in  these  words  delivered  his  own  Ordi- 
nance to  mankind ;  at  once  permittine,  and  dircciin?,  that  a  man, 
henceforth,  should  leave  bis  father  and  mother;  andfAof  lawfully, 
notwithstanding  his  high,  and  otherwise  indissoluble,  obligations 


396  THE  ORIOUV,  NATURE,  [8ER.  GZOL 

to  them ;  and  be  united  to  his  wife.    Accordingly,  He  declares 
them,  henceforth,  to  be  no  more  twain,  but  one. 

That  these  words  contain  an  Institution  of  God,  and  that  this 
Institution  is  Marriage,  cannot  be  doubted  for  a  moment.  The 
only  question  which  can  be  asked  concerning  the  subject,  dft,  fisr 
whom  was  this  institution  designed? '  jPlainly  it  was  not  designed 
for  Adam  and£ve:  for  they. had  neither  father  nor  mother;  and 
were,  therefore,  not  included  in  the  terms  of  the  Ordinance  ;  and, 
being  already  married  by  God  Himself,  were  necessarily  excluded 
from  any  Ordinance,  succe^ing  that  event.  ThexQrdinancc,  then, 
respected  their  posterity  only  :  and,  as  it  is  delivered  in  absoluteij 
indefinite  terms,  terms  unrestricted  to  anyindividuak,  or  coUsofiooi 
:of  mankind  it  respected,  all  their  posterity  alike. 

In  this  manner  it  is  directly  explained  by  our  Saviour,  in  tk 
•|HU9sage  quoted  above.  The  Pharisees  asked  Him,  wkeihw  i 
^Dras  Ivmful  for  a  tnan  to  put  awav  his  wife  for  entry  chum.  Cbiiit 
leplies,  that,  in  consequence  of  tnis  Institution,  a  man  and  hiswUe 
Bieno  more  twain,  but  one;  that  is,  a  man  and  his  wife,  at  4k 
.time  in  which  he  was  speakings  and  from  the  Itme,  when  this  orA 
*nanee  woas  .wade^  are  no.  more  twain,  but,  from  the  day  of  thev 
marriage,  are  by  this  Ordinance  constituted  one.  Accoraingly,k 
subjoins.  What  God  hath  joined  toigether^  let  not  manjpni  anmitr* 
As  if  he  had  said,  ^^God  hath  joined  together  by  this  Ordiaance 
all  men  and  wowen,  who  are  lawfully  married;  or,  in  other  wonb, 
every  lawfully  married  pair."  Man,  therefore,  cannot  lawfidly 
disjoin  them.  Here  it  is  evident  beyond  a  debate,  that  our  Sav- 
iour pronounced  men  to  be  married^  or  joined  together ,  ai  the  Hnw, 
^ehen  He  made  these  declarations^  by  God  Himself  in  ihis  OrA' 
nance.  Of  course,  the  Ordinance,  extends  to  all  lawfully  maniad 
persons. 

II.  The  JAUure  of  Marriage  may  be  explained  in  the  fottewiHg 
Momier. 

Marriage  is  an  tmton  between  too  persons  of  the  different  esses,  it 
is  carefully  to  be  remembered,  that  the  drdinance  of  God  which 
'gave  birth  to  itj  limits  the  Union  to  two.     God  said,  for  this  aniN 
ehall  a  man  leave  father  and  mother  y  and  shall  cleave  to  his  w^e^  no^ 
Men  shall  leave  their  fathers  and  mothers^  and  shall  cleave  wUothek 
aetfe  ;  nor,  A  man  shall  leave  his  father  and  mother  and  shall  cleavi 
msUo  hirwivesy  And  they  twain  shall  be  one:  Not,  they  indefinttelfy 
without  declaring  how  many;  nor  they  three  jfovr^  or  Jive  j  but  tk^ 
teMn.     The  Ordinance,  therefore,  on  which  alone  Marriage  ishv- 
fiilly  founded,  limits  this  Union,  in  the  most  express  and  definite 
ttanner,  to  two  persons.    What  God  has  thus  established,  mas 
nnnot  alter. 

Jt  is  the  most  Intimate  Union  which  exists  in  the  present  werUL 
The  persons  who  are  thus  united,  are  joined  together  in  a  moit 
iitimate.  relation,  than  any  other,  which  exists,  or. can  exist,  araoi^ 
msnlrinil.    No  attachment  is -so  strong.;  no  tenderness  is^sO:gleat 


SfiR.  CXDL]  AND  BENEFITS  OF  IIABRUOS.  397 

as  that,  which  is  originated,  and  cherished,  by  this  Institution. 
This  is  directly  predicted,  and  very  forcibly  declared,  in  the  pas- 
sage, which  I  nave  quoted  from  St.  Matthew.  For  this  cause  shall 
a  man  leave  his  father  and  mother^  and  shall  cleave  to  his  wife,  and 
ihiy  twain  shall  be  one.  Accordingly,  the  union  of  affections,  in- 
terests, labours,  and  life,  heve  existing,  has  no  parallel  in  the  pres- 
ent world. 

It  is  also  a  Perpetual  Union.  The  connexion  is  entered  into  by 
both  parties  for  life.  God  has  constituted  it  by  joining  the  parties 
with  his  own  Infinite  Authority ;  and  has  forbidden  man  to  put  them 
asunder.  It  is  indissoluble,  therefore,  on  any  ground,  but  that  of 
Crime :  a  crime  of  one  kind  only ;  and  in  its  nature  fatal  to  all  the 
blessings,  and  hopes,  intended  by  the  Institution. 

It  is  an  Uniony  also,  formed  by  a  most  solemn  Covenant*  In 
this  Covenant  God  is  appealed  to,  as  a  Witness  of  the  sincere 
affections,  and  upright  designs,  of  the  parties ;  both  of  whom  en- 

Sige,  mutually,  tne  exercise  of  those  affections,  and  the  pursuit  of 
at  conduct,  which,  together,  are  the  most  efficacious  means  of 
their  mutual  happiness.  This  Covenant  plainly  approaches  very 
near  to  the  solemnity,  and  obligation,  of  an  Oath;  and,  exclusive- 
\y  of  that,  in  which  Man  gives  himself  up  to  God,  is,  without  a 
doubt,  the  most  solemn,  and  the  most  important,  ever  entered  into 
by  Man.  When  the  duties  of  it  are  faithfully  performed ;  they 
furnish  a  fair  foundation  for  the  best  hopes,  that  tne  Union  will  be 
immortal. 

III.  The  Benefits  of  this  Institution  are  incalculably  numerous^  ami 
inestimably  important. 

This  truth  is  clearly  evident  firom  the  observations,  already  made, 
concerning  the  Origin  and  Nature  of  Marriage.  It  is  ako  forcibly 
evinced  by  the  manner,  in  which  the  subject  is  elsewhere  exhibited 
in  the  Scriptures. 

The  violation  of  the  Marriage  Covenant  was  of  such  consequence 
in  the  view  of  the  Divine  Mind,  that  it  was  made  the  subject  of  one 
of  riie  Commands  in  the  Decalogue. 

)n  the  laws  concerning  this  subject,  riven  to  the  Israelitesj  curses 
irere  pronounced  in  form  against  the  oirect  violations  of  the  Mar- 
riage vow ;  and  the  violaters  were  punished  with  death. 
/  Of  Adulterers,  and  all  other  transgressors  of  the  Seventh  Com* 
mand,  it  is  declared,  in  the  New  Testament,  that  they  shall  have 
iheirpart  in  the  lake  which  bumeth  mth  fire  and  brimstone.  Jfone 
of  those  who  go  in  to  the  strange  woman,  says  Sobmoui  ham  again  f 
miiher  take  they  hold  of  the  paths  of  life. 

The  relation  between  Christ  and  his  Church  is,  throughout  the 
Scriptures,  exh*bited  as  a  Marriage.  God  says  to  His  Church, 
7%y  Maker  is  thy  Husband:  Jkbovah  of  Hosts  is  His  name.  The 
Angel  ui  the  Revelation  styles  the  Church  the  Bride^  the  LambU 
Wife. 


From  these  and  other  similar  ezhibitionfl  of  this  snitjecl  b 
the  Scriptures,  It  must  necessarily  be  supposed,  that  God  rcgaid' 
ed  Marriage  as  pre-eminently  important,  and  beneficial,  to  mas' 
kind. 

The  Benefits  of  Marriage,  however,  like  those  of  every  oiba 
practical  concern,  are  chiefly  to  be  learned  from  facts.  I  sbaD, 
therefore,  apply  directly  to  that  extensive  source  of  infomalica; 
and  exhibit  with  a  brief  survey,  such  of  these  benefits,  unfolded 
by  human  experience,  as  the  present  opportunity  will  peilnil.        i 

1.  Marriage  is,  exUnsivet^,  the  meatis  of  Comfort  to  the  manvi    \ 
Pair. 

This  was  originally  proposed  by  God  as  an    imporlanl  ctl 
of  the  Institution.     And  the  Lord  God  taid,  It  ia  not  good,  lU    , 
the  man  should  be  alone  ;  I  will  make  him  an  help  meet  for  lu», 
Accordingly,  this  end  has  been  regularly  accomplished  from  ih 
beginning. 

Licentious  men,  both  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  have  carried  I 
on  a  course  of  open,  and  incessant,  hostility  against  this  Insiitutioo; 
Bs  they  have,  indeed,  against  al!  the  real  interests  of  mankind,  bi 
the  progress  of  this  warfare,  they  have  arraigned  the  wisdoo, 
and  denied  the  bencfiu,  of  it;  charged  upon  it  evib,  which  it  doo 
not  produce ;  and  enhanced  those,  wnich  are  incident  to  ibe 
Marriage-state.  The  unhappy  marriages,  which  have  been  cofr 
tractcd  in  violation  of  the  law  of  our  nature  and  of  the  Scnpiuns, 
comparatively  few  in  number,  and  only  exceptions  to  the  geneni  i 
truth  under  discussion,  they  have  multiplied  without  considenuco, 
orintegrity;  and  have  brought  them  up  to  public  vievas  just  n- 
faibitiona  of  the  Marriage-state  in  general.  In  a  word,  dteyhave 
treated  this  subject,  as  they  customarily  treat  others  of  a  serioui 
nature.  They  have  misstated  facts  ;  they  have  sophisticaied  ar- 
guments ;  and,  where  neither  would  answer  their  purpose,  ihev 
have  endeavoured  to  accomphsh  it  by  contempt,  saen?,  and  ridi 
cule. 

This  conduct,  censurable  and  mischievous  as  it  is,  is,  peHiapi, 
not  to  be  wondered  at  in  men  of  such  a  character.  But  k  is  w 
be  wondered  at,  that  men  of  a  far  better  character  should  have  fol- 
lowed their  steps.  A  man  of  even  moderate  reflection  mus!  be 
equally  surprised,  and  wounded,  to  see  how  many,  otherwise  re- 
apeclaole,  writers  in  the  peculiarly  enhghtened  Kingdom  of  Gmt 
Britain  have,  in  s  greater  or  less  degree,  lent  their  names,  to  fosnr 
the  wretched  calumnlei  and  faliehoods,  heaped  so  undeservedlr 
upon  this  subjecL 

That  there  ar'.  BL.happy  marriages,  and  that  the  number  ol 
them  is  consideraWe,  I  am  not  disposed  to  question.  There  are 
many  persons,  whote  paisions  are  loo  violent,  or  whose  temper  ii 
too  sordid,  to  permit  them  to  be  happy  in  anv  situation.  Person* 
marry,  at  times,  whose  dispositions  are  whofly  incompatible  <" 
cacii  other.     There  arc  vicious  persons,  who  will  neither 


-  witb  J 
erbe 


8Eit  cnx] 


AND  BENEFITS  OF  MARRIAGE. 


399 


happy  themselves,  nor  suffer  others  lo  be  happy.  All  these, 
it  is  readily  conceded,  will  find  liule  happiness  m  the  Marriage- 
State. 

The  propensities,  inwrought  into  our  nature  as  a  law,  and  the 
'leclaralLOns  of  Scripture,  leach  us  alike,  and  irresistibly,  that  this 
Union  is  lo  be  formed  only  on- the  ground  of  affection,  regulated 
by  prudence.  On  this  plan,  and  on  this  only,  can  Marriage  be 
reasonably  expected  lo  be  happy.  We  are  [lot  therefore  to  won- 
der, that  persons,  who  marry  for  the  purposes  of  allying  them- 
Mlves  to  families  of  distinction  i  acquiring,  or  repairing,  fortunes ; 
■btaining  rank ;  or  gratifying,  in  any  manner,  ambition,  avarice,  or 
Kasualily;  should  afterwards  find  themselves  unhappy.  These 
Ersons  ' 
itbey  n 


grsons  do  not,  intenLionally,  marry  either  husbands  or  wives. 
If  marry  distinction,  fortunes,  titles,  villas,  luxury,  and  grand- 


Ur.  The  objects,  lo  which  they  intentionally  unite  themselves, 
■ihey  acquire.  It  CBnnot  be  wondered  at,  that  they  do  not  gaia 
those,  which  ihey  never  sought;  nor  that  ihey  do  not  find  the 
Uessmgs  of  marriage,  following  plans  and  actions,  which,  unless 
Ipcidcntally,  have  no  relation  to  Marriage.  These  persons,  it  is 
Bue,  find  the  objects,  to  which  they  are  really  wedded,  incum- 
oer«?d  by  beings,  who  stand  in  the  places  of  husbands  and  wives. 
iBtillf  they  can  act  form  even  a  pretence  for  complaining;  since, 
with  their  eyes  open,  they  voluntarily  subject  themselves,  for  the 
lake  of  such  gratifications,  lo  all  the  evils,  arising  out  of  the  in- 
icombrance.  The  person,  who  wishes  to  obtain  the  blessings, 
^designed  by  this  or  any  other  Institution  of  God,  must  intenlioa- 
:ally  conform  to  the  nature  and  spirit  of  the  Institution  itself;  and 
to  all  the  precepts  concerning  it,  by  which  He  has  manifested  His 
own  pleasure. 

1  have  lived  in  very  many  families  ;  and  these,  often  in  plain,  as 
well  as  polished  life.  With  very  many  more,  extensively  diversi- 
fied in  character  and  circumstances,  I  have  been  intimately  ac- 
riinted.  By  the  evidence,  arising  from  these  facts,  1  am  convinced, 
t  the  great  body  of  married  persons  are  rendered  more  happy  by 
this  Union;  and  are  as  happy,  as  their  character,  and  their  circum- 
itances,  could  permit  us  lo  expect.  Poverty  cannot,  whether  in  the 
inarried  or  single  state,  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  wealth;  avarice, 
those  of  generosity ;  ambition,  those  of  moderation  ;  ignorance, 
ilfaose  of  knowledge  ;  vulgarity,  those  of  refinement;  passion,  those 
of  gentleness  ;  nor  vice,  in  whatever  form,  those  of  virtue.  The 
erils,  here  specified.  Marriage,  it  is  true,  cannot  remove.  Nor  are 
ihey  removable  by  Celibacy  :  and,  where  these  evils  exist,  nei- 
ther Celibacy,  nor  Marriage,  can  confer  the  contrary  blessings. 
Qrapti,  kere,  inill  not  grow  upon  thorns,  nor  Jigs  upon  ihiilles, 
Notning  but  folly  can  lead  us  to  expect,  thai  this  Institution  will 
fibange  the  whole  nature  of  those  wno  enter  into  it :  and,  like  a 
magical  spell,  confer  knowledge,  virtue,  and  loveliness,  upon 
■iieings  who  have  neither. 


i 


400  '■HE  ORICLV,  NATURE, 

9,  Another  end  of  this  InttUuiion  is  Ike  Preservation  and  C 
of  Children. 

The  experience  of  all  ages,  and  countries,  so  far  a 
tended  lo  (his  subject,  has  uniformly  shown,  thai  the  offspring  o 
licit  concubinage  suffer  innuiucniblc  evils,  to  which  those  bora  ii 
wedlock  are  not  subjected.  Inaprodfgiousmultilude  of  inslancet, 
ihey  perish  before,  or  immediately  aftoi',  ihey  are  bom.  In  a  vast 
mullilude  of  others,  they  die  in  the  early  periods  of  childhood. 
They  suffer  from  hunger,  cold,  nakedness,  ncghgence,  the  want  of 
nursmg,  watching,  medicine,  and  every  other  comfort  of  life.  The 
peculiar  affection  of  Manied  Parents,  and  the  peculiar  efforts  to 
which  it  gives  birth,  have  ever  been  indispensable  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  children  from  these  evils,  the  estabhshment  of  their  heaiili, 
Dnd  the  continuance  of  ibcir  lives.  Children  need  ten  thousand 
supplies,  cares,  and  tendernesses,  which  nothing  but  this  effcclic 
will  ever  furnish ;  and  without  which,  they  either  die  suddenly,] 
waste  away  with  a  lingering  dissolution. 

This  work   of  raising  up  children  from  jnfancy  to  manhi 
is  the   most  laborious  of  all  our  worldly  concerns  ;  and  requires 
more  efforts  of  both  body  an'!  mind,  more  toil,  care,    patici>ce, 
and  perseverance,  ihan  any  i  .\  <\:     To  most  men,  indeed,  tt  is  a 
great  part  of  all,  wiiich,  ordiii;;iily,  iliey  find  to  do  in  their  sei  ' 
Business. 

For  this  great  work,  God,  with  Wisdom,  which  can  never  f 
sufficiently  admired,  has  made  effectual  provision  by  the  parenfl 
tenderness,  always  existing,  and  flourishing,  in  Married  Farenti, 
with  so  few  exceptions,  as  to  demand  no  attention  here ;  but  al- 
ways withered,  and  commonly  destroyed,  by  promiscuous  conciy 
binagc.  This  tenderness,  neither  time  nor  toil,  neither  care  nor 
anxiety,  neither  trouble  nor  disappointment,  neither  filial  ingrati- 
tude nor  filial  profligacy,  can  overcome,  exhaust,  or  discourage* 
Other  affections  become  cold,  wearied,  and  disheartened ;  and  arc 
oflen  converted  into  negligence,  or  hatred.  But  this,  like  the  Ce- 
lestial Fire  in  the  Jewish  Temple,  burns  by  night  and  by  day ;  aud 
is,  through  this  world,  an  everlasting  flame  which  cannot  be  eilio- 
guished.  Without  il,  what  would  become  of  Children  in  povertji 
in  their  rebellion,  and  in  their  profligacy  ?  Who  would  watch  o»er 
them ;  who  relieve,  supply,  endure,  and  forgive  ? 

In  promiscuous  concubmage,  children  would  be  left  to  the  ir:iey 
of  the  world ;  to  the  supplies  of  accident ;  to  the  charity  of  at 
street;  lo  the  bleak  ana  desolate  waste;  to  the  frozen  hospital! 
and  lo  the  inclemencies  of  the  sky  :  to  pine  with  hunger;  to  cbilr 
with  nakedness ;  to  shrivel  with  unkindness  ;  to  consume  with  pH 
mature  disease ;  to  die  an  untimely  death  :  and,  denied  a  gran 
now  ihe  privilege  even  of  beggars,  to  feed  the  beasts  of  ihe  t  " 
and  the  fowls  of  Heaven. 

3.   Thi>  Intlxiulion  it  iht  source  of  all  Ike  J^alural  RttoHoia  ^  i 
mankind. 


cliqfl 

loojj™ 
uires 
'i>ce, 
is  a 
iecubjH 

rer  nH 


I  CXEK.]       '      AND  BENEFITS  OF  HABBIAGE.  4Q1 

By  these  I  mean  the  relations  of  husband  and  wife,  (which  in  a 
subordinate  sense  may  be  called  natural)  those  of  Parents  and  chil- 
dren, of  brothers  and  sisiers,  together  with  many  others,  which  are 
at  considerable,  although  of  inferior,  importance.  These  relations 
are  immensely  more  interesting,  and  useful,  to  the  world,  than  anjr, 
nay,  than  all,  others.  They  connect  mankind  by  bonds,  far  more 
intimate,  delightful,  and  enduring ;  resist  incomparably  more  the 
irregular,  evil,  and  stormy  passions  of  man,  soften  his  rugged  na- 
ture ;  overthrow  his  violent  purposes ;  and  spread  through  the 
world  a  degree  of  peace,  and  moderation,  which  without  them 
would  be  impo5siblie> 

4.  This  Instiltilion  it  the  source  of  all  the  gentlt,  and  vsrful,  }^at- 
ural  Affections. 

These  are  Conjugal  Tenderness,  Parental  Love,  Filial  Piety, 
and  Brolherly  and  Sisterly  Attachment :  far  the  most  amiable, 
endearing,  permanent,  and  useful,  native  atfeciiona  of  man.  No 
other  affections  have,  originally,  any  softness,  sweetness,  or  loveli- 
ness ;  but  all  owe  to  these  every  thing,  which  is  of  this  nature. 
All  our  native  amiableness  is  awakened  by  the  ppesonce  of  those 
whom  we  love:  and  we  originally  love  those  only,  who  form  the 
domestic  circle,  within  which  we  were  born ;  those,  from  whom  we 
.  early  received  the  offices  of  tenderness.  Here,  Natural  Affection 
first  springs.  Here,  also,  it  grows  and  flourishes ;  and  from  Its 
idem,  deeply  rooted  here,  sends  abroad  its  boughs  and  branches, 
its  blossoms  and  fruits.  The  mind,  here  strengthened,  and  refined, 
begins  to  wander  abroad  into  the  neighbourhood,  lo  6nd  new  ob- 
jects for  Btlachment  in  other  families.  Relations,  less  near,  easily 
tUde  into  its  affections ;  and  are  enrolled  by  it  in  the  hst  of  those 
wbom  it  loves.  To  these  succeed,  in  their  turns,  a  train  of  friends, 
neighbours,  and  countrymen :  until  the  sphere  swells  beyond  the 
limits  of  its  comprehension.  What  would  this  world  be  without 
"  these  affections ;  and  without  the  conduct,  to  which  they  give 
binh?  Nothing  good  would  ever  be  begun  ;  much  less  be  carri- 
ed on,  and  conJucled  to  a  prosperous  conclusion.  But  these  af- 
fections commence,  are  cherished,  and  confirmed,  in  families  only ; 
and  without  them  would  either  never  exist  at  all,  or  be  mere  abor- 
tions. 

5.   thii  Instilulion  is  the  source  of  all  Industry  and  Economy. 

Industry  is  the  source,  and  Economy  the  preservation,  of  all  the 

i'   comfortable  subsistence  of  man.     But  Industry,  as  is  proverbiallT 

f    observed,  Is  not  natural  (o  (he  human  race.     On  (he  contrary,  it  n 

k    die  result  of  education,  and  habit,  only.    Accordingly,  the  Savascf 

.  of  all  Countries,  being  uneducated  lo  industrious  exertion,  are 

lazy  in  the  extreme ;  and  are  roused  lo  toil,  only  by  the  calls  of 

Hunger.     This  habit  cannot  even  be  begun,  as  the  education, 

whence  it  is  derived,  cannot  exist  to  any  considerable  extent,  but 

in  ^milies  j  nor  by  any  other  persons,  except  ParenU ;  nor  at  any 

other  period,  beaide  cnildhood.     Without  families,  indeed,  Indus- 

Vol.  III.  51 


403  THX.f|aGIN,  NAlUKIb,  fBESL  CXQ 

j'-  ■  ■;■'.>■ 

try  would  not  exist :  and  without  Industry  the  woitd  trould  be  a 
desert. 

Economy  is  not  less  necessary  to  human  comfort,  than  Industry; 
and  is  siill  more  unnatural  to  man.  It  demands  the  attention  of 
every  clay  to  those  things,  which  we  are  to  preserve ;  and  this  at- 
tention is  more  irksome,  than  labour  itself.  Fewer  persons  over- 
come liieir  reluctance  to  it.  Savages  are  always  Squanderers. 
Exposed  as  they  perpetually  are  to  want  and  mmine ;  and  fre- 

auenily,  and  distressingly,  as  they  suffer  from  these  evils ;  such  is 
leir  reluctance  to  this  employment,  that  they  go  on  fix>m  age  to 
age,  wasting,  suffering,  and  perishing. 

flarly,  watchful,  and  long-continued  Education  will  alone  esta- 
blish a  habit  either  of  Industry,  or  Economy.  The  attention,  the 
authority,  and  the  example,  of  Parents,  are  all  equally,  and  indis- 
pensably,  necessary  to  the  creation  of  this  habit:  and,  without 
them  all,  it  cannot  in  any  extensive  manner  exist.  Savages,  in- 
deed, have  families ;  and  are  married  parents.  It  may,  therefwe, 
be  asked,  why  their  children  are  not  educated  to  these  habits. 
The  answer  I  have  already  given.  Neither  the  attention,  authori- 
ty, nor  example,  of  Savage  rarents  are  at  all  exerted  for  this  end, 
so  far  as  their  male  children  are  concerned ;  and  very  imperfectly 
with  respect  to  those  of  the  other  sex.  Of  these,  however,  both 
the  Industry  and  Economy  fully  answer  to  the  degree  of  Educa- 
tion, which  they  receive ;  and  to  the  opportunities,  which  they  en- 
joy of  exercising  them.  My  position  is,  that,  without  a  domestic 
eaucation,  these  things  would  never  exist :  not  that  that  education, 
be  it  wliht  it  may,  or  that  a  mere  domestic  existence,  will  give  them 
birth.  Besides,  Savage  Parents  neither  understand,  nor  perform, 
the  great  body  of  duties,  created  by  this  Institution.  Yet  even 
they.  In  these,  as  well  as  in  other  important  particulars,  derive 
real  and  considerable  advantages  from  the  domestic  state. 

Without  Industry  and  Economy,  what  would  become  of  man- 
kind /  Their  enjoyments,  their  improvements,  their  virtues,  and 
their  hopes,  would  all  vanish  at  once :  nay,  their  very  subsistence 
would  disappear.  The  earth,  within  a  few  years,  would  be  empti- 
ed of  ninety-nine  hundredths  of  its  inhabitants.  Europe  would  be 
changed  into  a  Lapland  waste ;  and  these  States  into  a  Patagonian 
forest. 

G.  This  Institution  is  the  source  of  all  Education  to  useful  Knum- 
tedge^  and  to  Civility  and  Sweetness  of  Manners*  * 

rarents  are  the  only  persons,  who  love  children  sufficiently  well 
to  be  anxious  about  their  Education  in  any  thing.  Nor  would  any 
others  support  them,  while  obtaining  their  Education.  No  others 
would  teach  them  tilose  indispensable  things,  which  they  learn  at 
home.  By  whom  are  schools  built  f  By  a  Collection  of  families* 
By  whom  are  the  Instructers  supported  ?  By  a  Collection  of  fe-  • 
milies,  assembled  in  a  neighbourhood.  By  whom  are  Colleges 
erected;  Instructers  sustained;  Libraries  mrnished;   and  otoer 


•• 


8ER.  CXSL}^  AlfD  BEIfEITrS  OF  l^lpttUOB.  4O3 

means  of  superior  education  supplied?  By  larger  Collections  cf 
families  :  such  Collections  as  have  actually  raised  these  buildings; 
stocked  them  with  all  their  furniture  ;  and  sent  hither  the  youuis, 
who  are  now  before  me,  for  Education. 

Education  occupies  a  great  part  of  chil  Ihood  and  youth;  and 
is  a  long-continued,  laborious,  expensive,  and  often  a  discourag- 
ing, concern.  Ordinary  feelines  would  supply  neither  the  labour, 
nor  the  expense.  Parents,  only,  experience  the  necessary  affec- 
tion.    Tamilies,  only,  could  sustain  the  necessary  expense. 

Much  of  the  Education  of  Children  is  furnished  by  Example ; 
and  is  dependent  on  the  propensity  to  imitation.  This  principle 
operates  powerfully  upon  children  in  the  early  periods  of  life,  fee* 
cause  it  is  stronger  at  that,  than  at  any  future,  age ;  and  because 
they  arc  continually  in  the  midst  of  those,  whose  example  they  are 
most  disposed  to  follow,  both  from  peculiar  affection,  and  irom 
the  fact,  that  it  is  always  before  them. 

.  But  the  efficacy  of  this  principle  operates  powerfully,  also,  in 
another  way.  Parents  love  to  be  like  other  Parents,  and  to  have 
their  children  like  other  children.  When,  therefore,  the  children 
of  one  family  are  furnished  with  .the  advantages  of  Education: 
the  Parents  of  other  children,  in  the  neighbourhood,  are  prompted 
to  e<lucate  them  also;  not  only  by  ambition,  but  by  the  general 
disposition,  which  we  have  to  be  like  others. 

At  the  same  time,  and  under  the  same  authority  of  Parents,  Ci- 
vility and  Softness  of  Manners  are  begun,  and  established,  in  fami- 
lies. Here,  only,  arise  the  affections,  out  of  which  this  ornamental 
part  of  the  human  character  springs.  In  no  other  place,  among 
DO  other  persons,  and  in  no  otner  circumstances,  can  these  affec- 
tions find  their  proper  objects,  or  their  proper  motives.  Of  course^ 
in  no  other  place  can  they  begin  to  exist.  Much  less  can  they  else- 
where find  room  for  that  continual  exercise,  that  delightful  inter- 
change, which  is  absolutely  necessary  to  their  strength  and  perma- 
nency. From  families  only,  therefore,  can  the  world  derive  the 
innumerable  blessings,  flowing  from  these  sources. 

7.  This  Institution  is  the  source  of  all  Subord'nation^  and  Govern^ 
ment ;  and,  consequently ,  of  all  Order j  Peace,  and  Safety j  in  th$ 
world. 

In  a  family.  Children  are  taught,  as  soon  as  they  are  taught  any 
thine,  to  obey ;  and  to  obey  those,  who,  loving  them  tenderly,  arc 
the  nt,  and  the  only  fit  persons  to  i^overn  them,  or  to  teach  them 
submission  and  obedience.  Others  would  rule  them  only  with  the 
rod  of  power ;  with  a  despotism,  from  which  they  would  think  it  a 
privilege  to  escape ;  a  dominion,  from  which,  as  soon  as  possible, 
they  would  revolt ;  an  authority,  which  they  Wduld  hate ;  and  sub- 
mission to  which  would  be  sucn  an  evil,  as  naturally  to  make  them 
hate  all  other  authority. 

But  Parents  rule  with  tenderness  and  love  5  and  usually  engage 
the  strong  affection  of  Children  to  the  authority,  which  they  exeiw 


404  ftt  ORIGIN,  NATURE,  PKR.  OgBL 

cise,  and  to  themselves,  while  exercising  it.  The  Children  learn 
to  obey  from  choice ;  and  are  pleased  with  the  very  employment 
of  obeying. 

Obedience  is  also  taught,  here,  in  that  early  period  of  life,  at 
which  it  is  impressed  so  deeply,  as  never  to  be  effaced.  Impres- 
sions of  every  kind,  made  at  this  period,  are,  it  is  well  known,  in- 
deUble  ;  and  survive  all  others  ;  especially,  when  made  by  those, 
in  whom  tenderness  and  authority  are  united,  and  to  whom  rever- 
ence and  affection  arc  rendered  m  the  highest  degree.  This,  how- 
ever, is  not  all.  These  impressions  are  daily  and  hourly  repeat- 
ed ;  and  by  this  repetition  are  gradually  wrought  into  an  immove- 
able habit.  In  this  manner  they  become  the  only  visible  nature 
of  the  child ;  and  constitute  his  chief,  and  often  his  only,  character. 

In  this  manner,  and  only  in  this  manner,  are  children  effectually 
prepared  to  submit  to  all  other  lawful  authority.  In  this  manner 
they  become  peaceful,  and  orderly,  through  Uie ;  imbibe  a  spirit 
of  respect  and  kindness  towards  others;  are  formed  into  good 
members  of  society,  and  fitted  to  sustain  the  character  of  good 
neighbours  and  good  friends.  Equally  necessary  is  this  discipline 
to  make  them  good  Subjects,  and  good  Magistrates.  Few  persons 
are  good  Subjects  of  Civil  Government,  wno  have  not  been  train- 
ed to  this  character  by  a  wise  domestic  administration :  and  not 
one  of  these  would  sustain  this  character,  but  for  the  example  of 
those,  who  have  been  thus  trained.  It  is  proverbially  true,  also, 
that  none  are  qualified  to  govern,  except  those,  who  have  eariy 
learned  to  obey. 

In  hardly  any  thine  is  the  Institution  of  Marriage,  and  the  con- 
sequent formation  of  Families,  exhibited  as  more  necessary,  or 
more  wise,  than  in  this  origination,  and  establishment,  of  good  or- 
der in  the  world.  "  Order,"  as  Mr*  Pope  has  justly  observed,  "is 
Heaven's  first  law."  The  great  task  oi  establishing  it  among  such 
beings,  as  we  are ;  selfish,  revolting,  and  refractory ;  God  has  as- 
signed to  an  innumerable  multitude  of  hands :  a  multitude  suffi- 
ciently great  to  receive  it  in  portions,  so  small  and  so  circumstanc- 
ed, as  to  insure  both  the  ability,  and  the  inclination,  to  accomplish 
it  effectually.  These  portions  are  so  small,  as  to  involve  only  the 
children  of  a  single  family.  To  this  little  flock  are  eiven,  regu- 
larly, two  Rulers,  better  disposed,  and  better  qualified,  in  almost 
all  instances,  than  any  other  persons,  found  in  the  world.  The 
circumstances,  in  which  those  are  placed,  who  are  to  be  governed, 
are  more  favourable  to  the  accomplishment  of  this  great  end,  than 
any  others  can  be.  Their  infancy,  childhood,  and  youth,  in  suc^ 
cession;  their  ignorance,  feebleness,  dependence;  the  affection, 
superiority,  care,  and  kindness,  of  the  Parents ;  and  the  instinctive 
love,  and  reverence,  of  the  children ;  together  with  their  necessary 
and  long-continued  residence  in  the  parental  mansion ;  present  to 
the  contemplative  eye  a  combination  of  things  evidencing,  by  their 
supreme  and  singular  adaptation  to  this  important  purpose,  a  gloii- 


OU8  work  of  the  Wisdom  of  God.  Fewer  hand^^^ould  notpo8ti« 
biy  accomplifth  this  mighty  task.  All  the  wisdom  of  Lejgislatiotv 
all  the  energy  of  Despotism,  would  be  spent  u[>on  it  inyain.  MU- 
Uons  of  minds,  and  tongues,  and  hands,  are  indispensable  to  it, 
eyen  in  a  single  Country.  It  is,  beyond  calculation,  a  greater 
and  more  arduous  work  than  all  the  labours  of  all  Rulers,  jLegis^ 
lative,  Executiye,  and  Judicial,  united.  Nor  could  those,  to  whom 
it  is  intrusted,  accomplish  it  in  any  other  circumstances.  Children^ 
grown  up  to  manhood  without  government,  could  neyer  be  goveriK 
ed.  A  generation  of  such  children  would  set  at  defiance  all  the 
laws  ana  madstr^tes  in  the  Universe ;  and  would  never  yield  to* 
any  control,  but  that  of  the  sword.  Were  Parents  to  intermit  their 
labours,  during  a  single  generation,  no  Government  could,  thence- 
forth,  exist  in  that  Country,  until  terrible  necessity  should  force 
upon  it  a  military  despotism.  Anarchy,  until  that  period^' woukl 
rear  its  wild  misrule,  ravage  every  human  interest,  and  rase  every 
human  dwelling.  In  this  very  land,  flourishing  aad  wantoning  in 
all  the  blessings  of  Liberty,  the  musket,  the  dungeon,  and  the 
gibbet,  would  be  the  only  means  of  public  peace,  ordkr,  and  safety. 

8.  Marriage  is  the  source  of  all  the  Religion  which  exists  in  the 
world. 

This  important  truth  is  completely  evident  from  the  following 
particulars. 

In  the  first  place.  Persons^  living  in  promiscuous  c<mcubinagef  ar$ 
never  themselves  religious. 

There  never  was  a  single  instance,  of  this  nature,  since  the 
world  began.  The  very  first  step  towards  Religion,  whenever 
they  have  ultimately  become  religious,  has  invariably  been  repent 
ance,  and  reformation,  of  this  enormous  sin.  Sucn  persons  can, 
therefore,  never  teach  theur  children  Religion,  either  by  precept 
or  example.     Therefore, 

Secondly,  Their  Children  grow  tm,  of  course^  in  Irreligion. 

There  are  two  primary  Means  of  Grace :  the  Preacmne  of  the 
Gospel ;  and  the  Religious  Education  of  Children.  Of  these^ 
Baxter  supposes  Religious  Education  to  be  probably  the  principal, 
as  to  its  efficacy,  wherever  the  Gospel  is  regularly  established. 
But,  whatever  be  their  comparative  importance,  it  is  sufScient  to 
say,  what  cannot  be  denied,  that  children,  who  are  not  educated 
religiously,  rarely  become  relieious,  even  in  the  midst  of  those^ 
who  are  thus  educated ;  and  tnat  a  generation  of  such  children 
would,  of  course,  be  a  generation  of  profli^tes.  But  married 
persons,  only,  ever  educate  their  children  rebgiously ;  or  present 
to  them  that  example,  without  which  theur  instructiofns  would  be 
given  to  no  purpose. 

Thirdly.  Norit  hU  rnarritd  Parenis  Imld  Chwrckis^  s^ifpwi  Ms^ 
tstersy  orfreouent  the  Worship  of  God* 

That  the  irreligion  of  persons,  living  in  promiscuous  concubin- 
^e,  would  never  give  birth  to  these  thmgs,  nor  to  any  of  theni| 


K. 


*. 


* 


400  *  THE  raiOIN,  NATUBEi  Iml  [8ER.  dDL 

needs  no  proof.  But  without  all  these  things,  Relirion,  as  the 
irorld  is  constituted,  cannot  exist.  The  loss  of  the  Saobath  alone 
toon  becomes,  every  where,  the  loss  of  Religion.  The  Preaching 
of  the  Gospel,  united  with  the  Ordinances  of  PubFic  Worship,  is 
the  only  effectual  mean  of  keeping  Religious  Education  alive  in 
the  world.  Religious  Education,  m  its  turn,  dves  existence  and 
life  to  Public  Worship :  and  both  united,  are  the  great  and  eflSca- 
cious  means  of  continuing  the  Kingdom  of  God,  and  producing 
the  Salvation  of  Man. 

Such,  in  a  sunmiary  view,  *are  the  Ongtn,  the  Nature^  «nd  th^ 
BerufitSj  of  Marriage,  No  man  of  common  sobriety,  can  hesitate 
to  acknowledge,  that  these  benefits  are  inestimable  and  immense. 
Of  course,  the  Institution,  whence  they  were  derived,  and  without 
which  thev  would  not  exist,  Iri^'of  iucomprehensibll|.  importance 
to  mankjna.  How  worthy  of  the  Wisdom  of  the  Infinite  Mind  is 
the  erection  ^  so  vast,  and  s6  ^orious,  a  £aibric,  upon  a  founda- 
tion so  simple,  apparently  so  inadequale,  and  yet  proved  by  all 
the  experience  ot  Man  ta  be  sufficiently  extensive,  solid,  and  en- 
during !  How  small  a  cuse,  to  the  human  eye,  is  here  seen  to 
duce  effects,  innumevpble  in  their  multitude,  and  supreme  in 
importance !  What  serious  mind  can  hesitate  to  acknowledgiei 
such  a  Wofk is  wilMight  by  the  Counsel  of  God  f 


•• 


SERMON  CXX. 


■  ETZNTH    COHHANDMENT. LKWDNISSt 


EioDDi  II.  14— 71Wu  j&oU  *•(  conuHtl  MtuUny; 

Having  in  the  preceding  discourse  considered  the  Origin, 
J/alure,  and  Benrfits  of  Mamagt  f  the  Institution,  which  is  the 
basis  of  the  prohibition  in  the  Text ;  I  shall  now  proceed  to  ex- 
amine Ihe  ProhMtion  itstlf. 

The  thing,  which  is  hei-e  universally  prohibited,  is  Ltwdneui 
Lewdness  in  every  form;  in  thought,  word,  and  action.  This  is 
unanswerably  evident  from  our  Saviour's  connncnt  on  this  precept. 
Ht,  thai  lookelk  on  a  woman,  to  liul  afier  her,  katk  commitltd  adul' 
terywilh  keralreadif  in  hit  heart. 

Before  I  begin  the  immediate  discussion  of  this  subject,  I  shall 
premise  a  few  General  Observations. 

Itis  universally  known,  that  there  is,  and  for  a  great  length  of 
time  has  been,  a  riveted  prejudice  against  the  introduction  of 
this  subject  into  the  Desk.  When  the  peculiar  delicacy,  attending 
it,  is  considered ;  it  cannot  be  thought  strange,  that  such  a  preju- 
dice  should  in  some  degree  exist.  Even  the  roost  chaste  and 
correct  observations  concerning  it  are  apt  to  give  pain;  or  at 
least  lo  excite  an  alarm  in  a  refined  and  apprehensive  mind.  What 
I4ature  itself,  perhaps,  dictates.  Custom  and  Manners  have  not 
a  htile  enhanced.  The  opinions,  and  feelings,  to  which  I  have 
referred,  have  been  carried  to  a  length  unwarranted  eilher  by  the 
Scriptures,  or  Common  Sense.  Tlic  subject  seems,  in  fact,  to 
have  been  banished  from  the  Desk:  and  Ministers,  by  their 
general  and  profound  silence  concerning  it,  appear  to  have  sanc- 
tioned the  conclusion,  that  there  is  one,  and  that  not  a  small,  part 
of  Scripture,  which,  so  far  as  Preaching  is  concerned,  is  not  profit- 
able for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  norfor  imlruclionin 
righteoutnttt. 

But  let  me  solemnly  ask  every  religious  man,  whether  this  con- 
duct can  be  justified.  The  rejoicing  of  Si.  Paul,  at  the  close  of 
his  life,  yns  the  testimont/  of  a  good  conscience,  that  not  btf  fleshltf 
misdorn,  but  by  ike  Grace  of  God,  he  had  his  converiatioii  in  tfU 
world;  the  tutimony  of  a  good  eonicience,  that  kt  tnai  pure  from  the 
blood  of  all  men,  because  he  had  not  ihunned  to  declare  the  mholt 
Counsel  of  God.  Is  it  not  a  plain,  and  prominent,  pan  a(  the 
Counsel  of  God,  to  forbid,  to  discourage,  to  prevent,  this  proRjgale 
conduct  of  mankiod '     Why  else  was  this  precept  inserted  in  the 


^^♦v^. 


40§  '    LEWmUS.  [8ER. 

Decalogue ;  and  promulged  amid  the  lightniMS  of  Sinai  f  Why 
else  is  it  throughout  the  &:ripture8  made  the  subject  of  such  forci- 
ble prohibitions,  and  the  object  of  such  awful  threatenines  ? 

What  reason  can  be  given,  why  it  should  not  be  introouced  into 
die  Desk  ?  Can  common  sense  either  prove,  or  discern,  the  use- 
fulness of  excluding  it  ?  Is  it  fit,  is  it  safe,  is  it  not  preposterous, 
is  it  not  ruinous,  to  the  best  interests  of  mankind,  to  leave  die 
whole  management  of  it  to  loose  and  abandoned  men  ^  and  to  sui^ 
fer  them  from  vear  to  year,  and  from  century  to  century,  to  go  od 
in  a  course  of  corruption ;  seducing,  and  destroying,  thousands 
and  millions,  especially  of  the  young,  the  gay,  and  the  giddy : 
while  we.  Ministers  of  Christ,  divinelv  appointed  to  watch  Tor  the 
souls  of  men,  quietlv  sit  by,  and  see  them  hurried  on  to  perdiuon! 

'  Shall  we  be  awed  by  the  cry  of  indelicacy,  originally  raised  by 
the  most,  indelicate  of  mankind,  only  to  keep  the  field  open  for  its 
own  malignant  occupancy?  Shau  we  not  infinitely  rather  lay 
hold  on  every  opportunity,  and  all  the  means  furnished  here,  as 
well  as  ebewhere,  to  rescue  our  fellow-creatures  firom  destruc- 
tion? 

And  shall  not  the  House  of  God,  and  this  Sacred  Day ;  bodi 
divinely  consecrated,  not  only  to  His  worship  at  large,  but  to 
this  very  end,  that  the  wicked  may  be  warned  of  the  error  of  hit 
voy,  tMt  he  turn  from  t/,  and  save  his  soul  alive  ;  shelter  this 
subject,  a  solemn  prominent  subject  of  his  own  express  commands, 
awful  exhortations,  and  terrible  threatenings,  from  misconception, 
sport,  and  sneer  ?  Shall  not  the  known  presence  of  this  Tre- 
mendous Being  in  His  House  silence  everv  unscriptural  com- 
plaint; check  every  wayward  thought;  forbid  every  roving  of 
an  unhallowed  imagination ;  and  appal  every  light-minded  sinner; 
however  prone  he  may  be  to  forget  the  presence  of  his  Maker;  or 
unwilling  to  remember,  that  this  Great  Being  is,  at  the  ver}'  time, 
searching  his  heart,  and  trying  his  reins,  to  reward  him  according  t$ 
his  works? 

But  why,  it  may  be  asked,  may  not  the  evil  be  left  to  other  co^ 

'  rectives  ?  Why  is  it  necessary,  that  Ministers  of  the  Gospel 
should  make  it  the  theme  of  their  public  discourses  f  Why  may 
not  the  business  of  reformation  be  entrusted  to  the  Satirist,  m 
Poet,  and  the  Moralist;  to  private  conversation,  and  to  the  Reli- 
gious Instruction  of  Parents  ?  The  answer  to  these  questions  is 
at  hand.  God  h^  required  Ministers  to  crgaloudund  sport  not, 
(o  lift  vp  their  voices  as  a  trumpet,  and  to  shew  his  f^^l^  ^hat 
transgressions.  He  has  declarea  to  Ministers,  that  if  they  tmii% 
not  the  wicked  of  his  way,  the  wicked  shall  die  in  his  sinsf  Inii  Ui 
blood  He  will  require  at  their  hands.  The  point  in  debate  must,  I 
think,  be  allowed  to  be  here  finally  settled ;  unless  some  argu- 
ment can  be  devised  to  show,  that  a  Minister  is  bound  to  laSkt 

'  himself  answerable  for  the  blood  of  those  sinners,  to  whom  he 
preaches.    Besides,  the  Satirist^  the  Poe^ -and  the  Moialist,  in  a 


•\ 


M; 


8ER.  CXX.]  LEfflWKSS. 

multitude  of  instances,  have  been  enlisted  on  the  side  of  Vice ;  and 
have  endeavoured  lo  stimulate,  rather  than  repress,  the  evil  under 
examination.  Where  ihcy  are  not;  how  few  persons  read  (heir 
books,  compared  with  (he  number  of  those,  who  are  present  at 
ibe  preaching  of  the  Gospel !  Probably  iwo-ihirds  of  a  million  of 
persons  hear  the  Gospel  preached,  weeltly,  mJ^ewEngland,  Not 
one  In  a  thousand  of  these,  perhaps,  has  ever  read  a  book,  seri- 
ously exposing  (his  unhappy  part  of  ibe  human  character.  Even 
where  (heir  books  are  read,  and  read  with  attention,  they  are  little  ^ 
regarded,  and  produce  little  effect.  The  Desk  possesses  means 
of  appalling,  and  overthrowing,  vice,  and  upholding  morality, 
which  nothing  else  can  boast.  The  Day,  (ne  Place,  the  Cir- 
cumstances, of  the  Assembly ;  the  Purposes,  for  which  they  are 
^(bered;  and  (he  solemn  Commission  of  Jehovah;  furnish  Min- 
isters with  advantages  for  this  great  end,  unrivalled,  and  unex- 
ampled. Accordingly,  their  Office  has  been  more  efficacious  in 
"iroducing  real  reformation,  than  alt  the  other  means,  employed 
ly  man.  *'  The  Pulpit,"  says  a  Poet  of  distinguished  excellence 
and  wisdom, 

"  The  Fulpit,  nhen  Ihe  Mi'riil  hu  at  lul, 

Slrullinc  snd  vap'ring  in  an  einply  ichool, 

Spenl  all  lib  torce  tai  made  no  proselyle, 

I  nj  (he  Pulpi),  in  the  sober  ute 

or  ill  legitimate,  pcctiljar  poiverg, 

Mud  iiand  scknowlpilgd,  while  the  world  ih«H  a\aaS, 

The  moil  important  and  effectual  guard, 

Support,  snd  oraament,  of  Virtue'i  eauie  ' 

With  these  things  in  view,  1  consider''  as  my  own  duty  to  brine 
this  Subject  into  the  Desk  wiiliou>  hesitation ;  and  to  trea(  it 
ir.hesarae  delinitc  and  earnest  [Fanner,  which  is  demanded  by 
Uu  precepts  of  the  Gospel.  loball  make  it  my  business,  how- 
cer,  to  treat  it  in  such  a  tpanner,  that,  if  any  of  my  Audience 
siall  entertain  thoughts  coicerning  it,  forbidden  by  their  Creator, 
if  shall  be  their  own  fauk,  and  not  mine. 

With  these  prelimipiiry  remarks,  I  proceed  to  obsen-e, 

I.  That  this  CoTiv'M'na  forbids  ail  impure  Thoughts, 

The  proof  of  ikis  1  have  already  given,  in  our  Saviour's  com- 
nent  or  this  precept. 

Impure  thoughts  are  the  immediaie,  and  only,  sources  of  fcipure 
conversttion,  and  ^an  impure  hfe.  If  the  thoughts  be  cleansed; 
the  man  will  be  clean,  of  course. 

Then  is  scarcely  a  more  dangerous  employment,  than  the  in- 
dulgence of  a  licentious  Imagination.  This  Is  an  evil,  to  which 
youths  ire  peculiarly  eiposed.  The  peculiar  strength  of  every 
passion,  and  (he  peculiar  want  of  watchfulness,  and  self-restraint, 
render  ifcein  an  easy  prey  (o  every  vice,  which  solicits  admission. 
£till  ^ea(er  Is  the  danger,  when  vice  approaches  under  a  form, 
especially  alluring:  andrtBl  (he  same  (Imc,  steals  gradually,  and 

Vol.  III.  -as 


J 


^^*^^*^ 


410  LEWDNESS.  [SER;  CnU 

therefore  'msensibly,  upon  the  mind.  By  all  thcst  evils,  is  the  sin 
under  consideration  accompanied.  It  rises  in  the  minds  of  the 
young,  instinctively  ;  surrounded  with  many  allurements,  and  un* 
accompanied  by  that  loathing  and  horror,  with  which  the  mind 
naturally  rogaros  vice  of  many  other  kinds.  At  the  same  tim^, 
the  mind  is  prone  to  be  utterly  unconscious  of  any  transgression, 
and  of  any  clanger.  The  imagination,  thoughtless  and  unrestrain- 
ed, wanders  over  the  forbidden  ground,  often  without  thinking  that 
it  is  forbidden ;  and  has  already  been  guiltv  of  many  and  periloas 
transgressions,  when  it  is  scarcely  aware  of  having  transgressed  at 
all.  In  this  manner  its  attachment  to  these  excursions  continually 
gains  strength.  Continually  are  thev  repeated  with  more*  eager- 
ness,  and  with  more  frequency.  At  length  they  become  habituah 
and  scarcely  any  habit  is  stronger,  or  with  less  difficulty  over* 
come.  In  every  leisure  season,  the  mind,  if  it  will  watch  its  own 
movements,  will  find  itself  roving  without  restraint,  and  often  with- 
out being  aware  that  it  has  begun  to  rove,  on  this  interdicted 
ground ;  and  will  be  astonished  to  perceive,  after  a  sober  compt^ 
tation,  how  great  a  part  of  all  its  thinking  is  made  up  of  these  B» 
centious  thoughts. 

Most  unhappily,  aids,  and  allurements,  to  this  licentious  indul- 
gence are  never  wanting.  Genius,  in  every  age,  and  in  every, 
country,  has,  to  a  great  extent,  prostituted  its  elevated  powers  for 
the  deplorable  i»irpose  of  seducing  thoughtless  minds  to  this  sin. 
The  unsuspectine  imagination,  ignorant  of  the  danj^rs,  which 
spread  before  it,  nas  Ly  this  gay  and  £ery  serpent,  ghttering  with 
spots  of  gold,  and  painttd  wim  colours  of  encnantment,  been  il- 
lured  to  pluck  the  fruit  o5  this  forbidden  tree,  and  hazard  tbe 
death,  denounced  against  the  vransgression.  The  numbers  of  tke 
Poet,  the  delightful  melod v  of  Suig,  the  fascination  of  the  Chisd, 
and  the  spell  of  the  Pencil,  have  toen  all  volunteered  in  the  sei- 
vice  of  Satan,  for  the  moral  destruuion  of  unhappy  man.  Td 
finish  this  work  of  malignity,  the  Stage  h\s  lent  all  its  splendid  ap- 
paratus of  mischief;  the  Shop  been  converted  into  a  snow-box  of 
temptations ;  and  its  owner  into  a  pander  ^f  iniquity.  Feeble, 
erratic,  and  giddy,  as  the  mind  of  man  is  in  its  nature ;  prepared 
to  welcome  temptation,  and  to  bail  everv  passing  sUi ;  can  we  won- 
I  der,  that  it  should  yield  to  this  formidable  train  of  seducers' 
To  a  virtuous  mind  scarcely  any  possession  is  of  more  value, 
or  more  productive  of  enjoyment  or  safety,  than  a  chastionM)  Im- 
agination, regularlv  subjected  to  the  control  of  the  Confidence. 
Wherever  this  faculty  is  atfder  this  control,  the  mind  has  adiieved 
a  power  of  keeping  temfitaiion  at  a  distance,  of  resisting  i:  when 
approaching,  and  of  overcoming  it  when  invading,  attpfauibk  in  no 
other  manner.  Its  path  towards  heaven  becomes,  dtetefoR,  com- 
paratively unobstructed,  easy,  and  secure.  Sin  does  not  emily  ie- 
»etU:  and  its  moral  improvement,  while  it  is  on  the  one  hand 
tukdisturbed)  is  on  the  other  rapid  and  deli^tfuL 


I 


L  CXX.] 


E.   lif  Ike  tttmt 


II.  This  Command  forbids  all  licentious  Words,  of  the  lame 
nature. 
-.  Impure  thoughts  beget  impure  words ;  and  impure  words,  in  their 
turn,  generate,  enhance,  and  muiliply,  impure  thoughts.  This 
•«tro-aclive  influence  of  the  tongue  upon  the  heart,  by  means  of 
which,  sinful  conversation  becomes  the  means  of  producing  sinful 
thoughts,  I  have  had  occasion  to  explain  at  large  in  a  former  dis- 
course. It  will,  therefore,  be  unnecessary  to  dwell  upon  it  here. 
No  serious  observer  of  human  life  can  doubt,  that  by  our  own  lan- 
guage, as  well  as  thai  of  others,  whenever  it  is  impure,  impure 
thoughts  are  awakened;  a  licentious  imagination  set  on  fire;  end 
Ucenlious  designs,  which  otherwise  would  never  have  entered  the 
mind,  called  up  into  existence,  and  execution. 

In  this  employment,  also,  our  fellow-men  unite  with  us  in  the 
strange,  and  melancholy,  purpose  of  mutual  corruption.  All  the 
dangerii  and  mischiefs,  all  the  temptations  and  sins,  presented  to 
each  other  by  evil  coinpanions,  are  to  be  found  here.  Here,wicA- 
*d  men  and  stducera  wax  worse  and  taorat;  deceiving,  and  being  dt- 
eeivr.d  ;  mutually  seducing,  and  being  seduced. 

The  only  safety,  with  respect  to  ihjs  part  of  the  subject  in  hand, 
is  found  in  an  exact  conformity  to  the  very  forcible  precept  of  St. 
Paul:  But  J!llhiness,foo!ish  talking  and  jesting,  lei  it  not  be  so  muck 
as  named  among  yow.  The  original  words  arc  aKt)(pn)t,  obscenity} 
fiAigiiKnyta,  impure  scurriliti/ ;  and  mrfamXia,  when  used  in  a  bad 
sense,  as  here,  answering  to  double  entendres,  or  seemingly  decent 
netckts  teith  double  meanings.  Of  all  these  the  Apostle  says  not, 
Ltt  them  not  be  used,  but,  Ut  iketn  not  be  so  much  as  named  among 
you,  as  btcomelh  saints.  Let  no  foundation  be  furnished  by  your 
conversation  even  for  mentioning  it  as  a  fact,  that  such  language 
has  ever  been  uttered  by  you.  For,  no  conversation,  beside  that, 
which  is  thus  pure,  can  become  your  character  as  Christians.  See 
Eph.  V.  3,  4.  Strict  and  virtuous  delicacy  in  our  language  is  not 
only  indispensable  to  decency,  and  dignity,  of  character,  but  to  all 
purity  of  heart,  and  all  excellency  of  hfe. 

II 1.    This  Command  forbids  all  licentious  Conduct  of  this  nature. 

As  this  position  will  not  be  questioned ;  and  as  this  conduct,  in 
every  form,  is  prohibited,  elsewhere,  in  a  multitude  of  Scriptural 
passages ;  I  shall  spare  myself  the  labour  of  proof;  and  shall 
proceed  to  suggest  several  Reasons  for  our  obedience  to  this  precept ; 
or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  to  mention,  several  Evils  arising  from 
disobedience, 

\.  The  Licentious  Conduct,  forbiditn  by  this  precept,  discourages, 
and  prevents  Marriage. 

This  discouragement,  and  prevention,  regularly  take  place  in 
exact  proportion  to  the  prevalence  of  the  conduct ;  and  arethere* 
fore  chargeable  upon  it,  whenever,  and  wherever,  and  however,  it 


f*   •       ' 


^♦> 


4ft  V  LEWDNESS.  PER.CSI, 

The  inxminemble,  and  immense,  blessings  of  the  Marriage  Insti- 
tution hare  been  summarily  recited  in  the  preceding  discourse. 
They  are  the  blessings,  which  keep  the  Moral  World  in  being,  and 
secure  it  from  an  untimely,  and  most  terrible,  dissolution.  They 
are  the  blessings,  without  which  life,  in  instances  literally  innu- 
merable, would  be  blasted  in  the  bud ;  without  which,  whenit  es- 
caped this  premature  destruction,  its  continuance  would  prove  a 
curse ;  without  which,  Natural  affection,  and  amiableness,  would 
not  exist;  without  which,  domestic  Education  would  be  extinct; 
Industry  and  Economy  never  begin  ;  and  man  be  left  to  the  pre- 
carious subsistence  of  a  savage.  But  for  this  Institution,  Learn- 
ing, Knowledge,  and  Refinement,  would  expire ;  GovernmeDt 
sink  in  the  gmf  of  Anarchy ;  and  Religion,  hunted  from  the  hab- 
itations of  men,  hasten  baclc  to  her  native  heavens.  Man,  in  the 
mean  time,  stripped  of  all  that  is  respectable,  amiable,  or  hopefid^ 
in  his  character,  and  degraded  to  all  that  is  odious,  brutal,  and  di^ 
perate,  would  prowl  in  solitudes  and  deserts,  to  satisfy  his  rage 
and  hunger.  The  correspondence  between  heaven  and  earoi 
would  cease;  and  the  celestial  inhabitants  would  no  longer  expect, 
nor  find,  new  accessions  to  their  happy  society  from  this  miserable 
world.  r 

To  all  these  evils  every  lewd  man  directly  contributes.  Were 
his  principles,  and  practices,  adopted  universally  by  his  fellow- 
men  ;  all  these  evils  would  universally  prevail.  That  they  do  not 
actually  thus  prevail  is,  in  no  sense,  owing  to  him.  To  the  utnuNt 
of  his  power  ne  labours  to  introduce  them  all. 

2.  This  Conduct  J  in  almost  all  cases^  presupposes  Sedttctioru 
Seduction,  in  its  very  nature,  involves  fraud  of  the  worst  land. 
It  is  probably  always  accomplished  by  means  of  the  most  solemn 
promises,  and  often  with  oaths  still  more  solemn.  Both  the  prom- 
ises and  oaths,  however,  are  violated  in  a  manner,  supremelr 
profligate  and  shameful.  The  object,  to  which  they  are  airecte(( 
IS  base,  malignant,  and  treacherous,  in  the  extreme ;  and  the  man- 
ner, in  which  it  is*  prosecuted,  is  marked  with  the  same  treacheij 
and  baseness.  He,  who  can  coolly  adopt  it,  has  put  off  the  char- 
acter of  a  man,  and  put  on  that  of  a  fiend;  and,  with  the  spirit  of 
a  fiend  alone,  he  pursues,  and  accomplishes,  the  infernal  purpose. 
The  ruin  sought,  and  achieved,  is  immense.  It  is  not  the  filching  of 
property*  It  is  not  the  burning  of  a  house.  It  is  not  the  depriv- 
ation of  liberty.  It  is  not  the  destruction  of  life.  The  Seaucer 
Elunders  the  wretched  victjp  of  character,  morals,  happiness, 
ope,  and  heaven ;  enthrals  her  in  the  eternal  bondage  of  sin ; 
consumes  her  beyond  the  grave  in  endless  fire ;  and  murders  her 
soul  with  an  ever-living  death.  With  the  same-comprehensive, 
and  terrible  malignity,  ne  destroys  himself;  callSTdown  upon  his 
own  head  the  vengeance  of  that  Almighty  Hand,  which  will  suf- 
fer no  sinner  to  escape ;  and  awakens  the  terrors  of  that  undying 
conscience,  which  will  enhance  even  the  agonies  of  perdition. 


SER.  CXX.]  LEWDNESS.  4I3 

All  ihis  h  perpetrated,  in  the  mean  time,  under  strong  professions 
of  nocuiiar  atfeciion  ;  with  the  persuasive  language  of  tendernessi 
ana  with  ihe  Bmiles  of  gentleness  and  complacency.  For,  the 
Seducer 

"  Can  imile,  and  imile,  and  he  a  Tillain." 

3>  ft  brings  Incomprehensible  Wretchedness  upon  the  devoted 
objfct. 

No  human  being  can  support  the  pressure  of  infamy ;  a  degrad- 
ation below  the  level  of  mankind;  and  the  envenomed  slings  of 
reproach,  sharpened  by  a  guilty  conscience.  I  well  know,  that 
Philosophy  prates,  and  vapours,  on  topics  of  this  nature,  with  a 

S)rou(l  self-complacency;  and  an  ostentatious  display  of  patience, 
iarlitudc,  and  serenity.  But  I  also  well  know,  that  Philosophy  is, 
v^thcsc  respects,  a  mere  pretender;  a  bully,  and  not  a  hero, 
rfiilosophy  never  furnished,  and  never  will  furnish,  its  Catalogue 
of  Martyrs.  All  its  votaries,  like  P'o^faiVe,  intend  only  to  rule, and 
triumph  ;  not  to  suffer,  nor  even  lo  submit.  As  cool  and  parading 
reflertiona  on  subjects  of  a  calamitous  nature  are  uttered  in  the 
peaccof  the  closet;  the  possession  of  ease  and  safely  ;  the  con- 
viction of  acknowledged  reputation;  and  theenjoyment  of  friends, 
comfnrts,  and  hopes ;  Philosophy  rarely  encounters  real  sufferings. 
Her  hardihood  is  all  premature;  and  is  all  shown  in  idling  the 
worli  I  what  she  would  do,  and  what  others  ought  to  do ;  and  not  in 
the  history  of  what  she  has  done. 

The  escruciating  anguish,  to  which  the  miserable  female  victim 
is  reduced,  is  dreadtully  exemplified  in  the  unnatural  and  enormous 
wickedness,  to  which  she  is  driven  in  the  desertion,  and  the  con- 
sequent destruction,  of  her  helpless  offspring.  Can  a  wovion/or- 
get  her  sucking  child;  that  she  should  not  have  compassim  on  the 
ton  of  her  womb  ?  is  a  question  which  points  out  the  strongest 
affection,  the  highest  tenderness  of  human  nature  ;  the  attachment, 
which  outruns,  survives,  and  triumphs  over,  every  piher.  To  this 
question,  the  exposure  lo  a  merciless  sky,  the  drowning,  the  stran- 
gling, the  smothering,  of  illegitimate  cmldren,  returns  a  terrible 
and  excruciating  answer.  What  must  be  the  igoniea  of  despond- 
ence, and  degradation,  which  can  force  the  susceptible  heart  of  a 
female  parent  lo  the  contrivance,  and  execution,  of  a  design  like 
tiiis?  Yet  such  is  the  dreadful  catastrophe  of  the  wickedness  m 
question.  It  is  worse  than  trifling,  for  :he  author  of  all  these  evils 
to  allege,  that  this  catastrophe  is  neither  contrived,  nor  accomplish- 
ed, by  himself.  They  are  all,  aM  all  are  known  by  him  to  be, 
the  frequent,  as  well  as  naturp^  consequences  of  this  iniquity. 
They  are  chargeable  (o  him,  !herefore,  as  the  legitimate  results  of 
his  own  conduct:  results,  which  by  every  obhgalion,  human  and 
divine,  he  was  bound  to  foresee,  and  prevent.  Both  the  Murder 
itself,  and  the  miseries  which  give  birth  lo  it,  are  slains  of  that 
crimson  guilt,  in  which  he  i^  so  deeply  dyed. 


1 


1 


414 


LEWDNESS 


[SOL  CIS, 


4.    Thii  Licentima  Character  soon  becomes  Habitual. 

Tn  a  person,  moderaicly  acquainted  wiih  human  conduct, 
Bttemi'i  lo  prove  [his  asserlion  would  be  mere  Iriiling.  All  traii^ 
IS  of  this  cast  soon  become  lized,  obstinate,  and  irrcclaiior*' 
The  w<tfld  U^ems  with  evidence  of  ihie  humihaiing  posJtioDg 
whol^  progress  of  lime  has  dwlr  accumulated  a  mountain^ 
i  of  facts,  evincing  its  ceriaiQ(y  m  &  more  and  more  hum3>  - 


gress 
able. 
and 


ladn^  II 

or  ■ 


the  mtMl  humiliating  and  dreadful  collection   is   fouul' 
th  im;-  baleful  tenements  of  rroslitution,  and  Profligacy,  wliiiA 


final  r. 
iastgiii- 
aneii  r' 
God. 
theVo 


deform,  >o  far  as  ray  information  extends,  every  populous  City  M 
the  fill  lie;  and  stand  publicly  as  the  gateway  to  Hetl;  opening! 
to  th'-ir  miserable  inhabitants  a  broad  and  beaten  road  to  peraJtiooi; 
Into  lilt -e  deplorable  mansions,  the  polluted  female,  cast  oS  }ilf' 
mankind  as  an  outlaw  from  human  society,  lorn  even  fromtl" 
sid«  Kt(  Njtural  affection,  and  parental  mercy,  betrayed  by  tlic  TJ 
lany  of  ,i  second  Jvdas,  and  nurried  by  shame,  remorse,  and  ai^ 
guish.  >  liters,  never  lo  escape.  Here,  from  the  first  moment,  shQ, 
closc>  ixT  eyes  upon  friends,  kindness,  and  compassion  ;  takes  boT 
I'eil  of  earthly  comfort ;  and  sees  wiih  a  dying  eye,  lite  i 
iiinerings  of  hope  go  out  in  eternal  night.  Here,  sbebidi' 
I  '-(ingadieu  to  the  Sabbath,  the  House,  and  the  Word,of. 
ro  her,  ihe  calls  of  Mercy  are  made  no  more.  To  hcb  . 
te  of  the  Redeemer  sounds  no  more.  The  Spirit  of  Tnila 
cannot  be  supposed  to  enter  the  haunts  of  sin  and  death ;  nor  to  ■ 
shed  llif  dew  of  life  upon  these  voluntary  victims  of  corrupticu^ 
by  wh.'ui  they  are  inhabited.  Immortal  life  here  becomes  extinct. 
Hithii-  liic  "  Aope"  of  heaven  "  nerer  conifs,  that  comes  to  alii" 
aiidt-*ln  ivretchcd  throng  embosomed  by  these  baleful  walls,  cntef 
upon  inpiir  perdition  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  M 

WKo,  \|)at  is  not  lost  lo  candour,  and  buried  In  maaothropwB 
could  '"  liete,  unless  fee  were  forced  lo  believe,  that  princes,  ^Sm 
other  nilcrsof  mankind,  have  taxed,  and  licensed,  tbcsBe  houMrfl 
of  ruin  :  and  tliaj,  in  countries  where  the  Gospel  beams,  and  imM 
voice  ut  ^aivatioq  is  heard  in  the  streets?     Who  could  beliew^l 
that>iN  »oUd  be  ibus bartered  in  the  market;  and  damnaii<mbc 
faoldcii  ii|),  as  a  comnodity,  for  bargain  and  sale;  thai  the  deatruc- , 
tion  iif  the  human  sotj  would  be   publicly  announced,  gi-anle^' 
and  iiialiorized,  as  a  privilege  ;  and  that  patents  would  be  made 
out,si,'iii-d,  and  sealed,  for  populating  more  extensively  the  World 
of  wo? 

In  1  !ic  niesn  time,  It  is  ever  to  be  remembered,  that  the  betrayer 
acconijiiiiiies,  to  the  same  dreadful  end,  the  victim  of  his  treachery. 
Abru,  ji/io  go  into  ihpse  ouicr  chawbei-s  of  perdition,  titm  agaOf 
nallur  iuKt  Ihev  hold  of  the  paths  of  life. 

6.  This  Conduct  dettroyi  all  Mural  Principle.  "  However  it  be 
iccoiiiii'd  for,"  says /Jr.  Po/cy. '•  the  criminal  commerce  of  the 
Jezes  toiTupis,  and  depravcs,inemind,and  moral  character,  more 


SER  CXX.]  LEWDNESS.  4I5 

than  iiity  single  species  of  vice  whatsoever.  That  ready  percep- 
tion "i  f^uili,  that  prompt  and  decisive  resolution  against  it,  which 
con.siiiiites  a  Virtuous  character,  is  seldom  found  in  persons,  addict- 
ed ii>  ihese  indulgences.  They  prepare  an  easy  admission  for 
evevy  sm,  that  seeks  it;  are  in  low  life,  usually  ilie  first  stnge  id 
men's  ijrogress  to  the  moaKJesperaie  vilianies  ;  and,  in  high  life, 
totlKii  lamented  dissoluteness  of  principle,  which  manifests  itself 
in  a  |>rr)(1igacy  of  public  conduct,  and  a  contempt  of  the  obliga- 
tions 1.1  religion  and  moral  probity." 

W  hut  is  here  asserted  by  this  very  able  writer,  forced  itself 
upon  my  mind,  many  years  before  I  saw  the  Work,  containing 
thesv  ubserwtions,  as  a  strong,  and  prominent,  feature  in  the  char- 
acter if  idan.  These  very  declarations  I  have  long  since  seen 
amjilv  verified  in  Hving  examples.  This  progress  if>w"-'|6  abaa- 
doiiiMi'iit  cannot  be  very  easily  described,  much  less  thoroughly 
eipliiiiied,  except  in  a  detailed  account  of  the  subject.  Sucn 
an  iicrount  cannot  here  be  given.  Yet  the  following  observa- 
tions »il],  if  1  mistake  not,  contribute  to  illustrate  the  point  in 
questmn. 

Aiiu'ist  all  persons,  perhaps  all,  derive  from  early  instruction, 
and  ii:i  Situation,  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  conscientiousness;  a 
reverfiice  for  God;  a  sense  of  accounlableness;  a  fixed  expecta- 
tion ol  future  rewards,  and  punishments;  a  veneration  for  Truth, 
and  Justice;  and  an  estabhshed  conviction  of  the  excellence  of 
kindniss.  These,  united,  constitute  that  lemperameat  of  ound, 
on  nliich  Evangelical  Virtue  is  usually,  as  well  as  happily,  grafted; 
and  In  exterminate  them,  is  to  destroy  what  is  here  meant  by  all 
mor:il  principle. 
^.      PeiMons,  who  commit  the  crimes,  which  forra  the  principal  sab-  . 

■feet  of  ihis  discourse,  always  commit  ihem  in  secret.    Alter  they  J 

^Bjtc  committed,  the  same  secrecy  is  indispensable  to  the  safety  of  ■ 

^^■•prrpeirators.     There  must  be,  however,  there  are  unavoidably,  V 

■Wfme  persons,  who,  at  times,  and  in  one  niauncr  and  another,  be-  ■ 

f  come  ncquainled  with  the  wickedness.     These  must  be  engaged,  at  I 

*    all  events,  to  conceal  what  they  know.   To  efTeciuale  this  purpose,  .M 

the  perpetrators  are  qften  driven  lo  employ  the  grossesl  corrup-  ■ 

lion,  and  the  basest  and  most  profligate  measures.  Agents,  also, 
are  oi<rn  absolutely  necessary  lo  the  successful  accomplishment 
of  th'  crimes  themselves.  None,  but  abandoned  men,  can  be- 
com<-  ^uch  Bgents ;  and  none,  but  abandoned  mensures,  can  be 
emplo;.  od  with  respect  to  iheir  agency.  As  tbe  principal  crimin- 
al m:ikcs  progress  in  (his  Iniquity ;  such  persons  become  more  and 
more  necjssary  to  him,  and  familiar  with  him:  and  as,  during  his 
progress,  he  renders  himself  an  object  of  detestation  to  all  decent 
(ocieiy;  these  profligates  soon  become  his  only  companions,  and 
these  measures  nis  only  conduct.  He,  who  devotes  himself  to  such 
eompinlons,  and  such  conduct,  will  always  debase  and  corrupt  his 


^■. 


jfig  ISWDIIBSS. 

own  miitd  faster  than  he  is  aware ;  and,  with  an  unexpected  rapid- 
ity in  guilt,  ifvill  very  soon  become  a  mere  profligate. 

Nor  will  he  be  less  rapidly  corrupted  by  the  innumerable  vile 
expedients,  base  fetches,  treacherous  plans,  abominable  briberies, 
and  foul  perjuries,  to  which  he  resorts  for  the  successful  perpetra- 
tion of  his  villanous  designs.  To  aH  these  must  be  added  the 
putrefactive  influence  of  impurity  itself;  which,  as  the  pestilence 
through  the  body,  difluses  mortification  and  rottenness  throogh- 
out  the  soul ;  and  converts  it  into  a  mere  mass  of  death  and  ccv- 
ruption. 

Ubnformably  to  these  observations,  we  see,  in  the  ordinaij 
course  of  things,  that  impurity  manures,  and  waters,  every  other 
growth  of  sin.  Wherever  it  prevails,  all  crimes  become  gross, 
nmk,  and  premature.  Impiety,  blasphemy,  treachery,  dninken- 
Mss,  peijury,  and  murder,  flourish  around  it.  How  justly  then,  as 
Veil  as  how  solemnly,  did  the  Divine  Writer  declare,  concemii^ 
'  the  strange  woman,  Her  house  is  the  way  to  hett^  going  down  to  tlu 
chambers  of  death* 

6.    Whenever  this  condtict  assumes  the  flagrant  character  tf 
.Mkdtery^  it  mohes  a  nmnerous  and  dreadpd  train  of  additional 

It  involves  the  ^tt  open  and  gross  violation  of  the  Marrkgt 
Covenant;  and  exposes^  guilty  person,  therefore,  to  the  peculiar 
wrath  of  that  tremendous  Being,  invoked  as  a  witness  of  it;  and 
incomprehensibly,  as  well  as  most  impudently,  affronted  by  the 
violation. 

//  accomplishes  the  greatest  injury,  which  the  imocent  party  to 
that  covenant  can  receive^  on  this  side  of  the  Orave,  This  injaiy 
is  formed  of  a  vast  combination  of  sufierings,  reaching  every  im- 
portant interest  in  this  world,  always ;  and,  often,  in  ue  world  to 
come;  exquisitely  keen  and  poignant,  piercing  the  very  s^t  of 
thought;  and  sense,  and  feeling,  and  awakening  m  long  succession 
throes  of  agony  and  despafir.  The  husband,  for  example,  is  forc- 
ed to  behold  his  wife,  once  and  alway  beloved  beyond  expression, 
not  less  affectionate  than  beloved,  and  hitherto  untarnished  even 
,  with  suspicion,  corrupted  by  fraud,  circumvention,  and  viUany; 
seduced  from  truth,  virtue,  and  hope ;  and  voluntarily  consigned 
to  irretrievable  ruin.  His  prospects  of  enjoyment,  and  even  of 
comfort,  in  the  present  world,  are  overcast  with  the  blackness  of 
darkness.  Life,  to  him,  is  changed  into  a  lingering  death.  His 
house  is  turned  into  an  empty  dreary  cavern,  nimself  is  widow- 
ed. His  children  are  orpnans ;  not  by  the  righteous  providence 
of  God  ;  but  by  the  murderous  villany  of  roan.  Cloi»^ed  with 
wo,  and  hung  round  with  despair,  his  soul  becomes  a  charnel- 
house,  where  life,  and  peace,  and  comfort,  have  expired  ;  a  tomb, 
dark  and  hollow,  covering  the  remains  of  departed  enjoyment,  and 
opening  no  more  to  the  entrance  of  the  living. 


LODE.] 


*"     J 

not  cal-  ' 


It  involves  injunes  lo  the  children,  v-hich  numbers  cannot  cal- 
culate, and  which  the  tongue  cannot  describe.  The  hand  of  vil- 
lany  has  robbed  of  all  their  peculiar  blessings  ;  Che  blessings  of 
maternal  care  and  tenderness  ;  the  rich  blessings  of  maternal  in- 
Struciion  and  government ;  the  delightful  and  most  persuasive  bless- 
ings of  maternal  example;  the  exalted  privilege  of  united  parental 
prayers;  and  the  exquisite  enjoyments  of  a  peaceful,  hannnnious, 
and  happy  fireside ;  once  exquisitely  happy,  but  now  to  be  happy 
no  more. 

To  this  most  affecting  and  pitiable  train  of  mourners,  a  numer- 
ous and  additional  train  of  friends  unite  themselves,  to  deplore 
the  common  wo.  A  singular,  an  agonizing,  procession  is  form- 
ed, ai  the  funeral  of  departed  virtue.  Tears  stream,  which  no 
hand  can  wipe  away.  Groans  ascend,  which  no  comforter  can 
charm  to  peace.  Bosoms  heave  with  anguish,  which  all  the  b»ln 
of  Giiead  cannot  sooth.  The  object  of  lamentation  is  gone  for 
ever ;  and  all  that  remains  Is  a  mass  of  living  death,  soon  to  be 
buried  in  the  eternal  grave. 

7.  This  wickedness,  vihen  it  becomes  exUnsive,  oversprtadi  <t 
Courilni  -with  final  ruin. 

It  is  the  nature  of  this  evil,  not  only  to  become  greater,  and 
greater,  in  individuals,  but  to  extend  continually,  also,  lo  great- 
er, and  greater  numbers  of  individuals.  The  corruption  of  Sodom^ 
and  Ihc  neighbouring  cities  of  tkt plain,  was  rapid,  and  complete. 
Within  a  short  period  after  they  were  built,  ten  righteous  persons 
could  not  be  found  in  them  all.  What  was  true  of  these  cities,  is 
true  of  others  la  similar  circumstances.  To  the  Israelites  before 
they  entered  info  Cdniian,  God  prescribed  a  long  series  of  laws, 
requiring  absolute  purity  of  conduct;  prohibiting  in  the  most  solemn 
manriei^  lewdness  of  every  kind ;  and  enacting  against  it  the  most 
dreadful  penalties.  Do  not,  said  Jehovah,  prostitute  tkif  daugh- 
ter ;  I'll  the  land  become  full  of  wickedness.  Ye  shall  not  commit 
any  of  these  abominations,  that  the  landspew  not  you  out,  also,  when 
jfe  drfle  it, as  it  speivedout  the  nations  thai  were  before  you.  In  the 
sight  of  God,  therefore,  this  sin  is  peculiarly  the  source  of  corrup- 
tion to  a  land ;  a  source  whence  il  becomes  full  of  wickedness ; 
and  vomits  out  its  inhabitants,  as  being  unable  to  bear  them. 
Those  who  practise  it,  and  the  nation,  in  which  the  practice  pre- 
vails, are,  he  declares,  abhorred  by  him,  and  shall  be  finally  de- 
stroyed. For  whosoever,  saith  he,  shall  commit  any  of  thtse  abom- 
inations, that  soul  shall  be  cut  off  from  his  people. 

As  crimes  of  this  nature  become  less  and  less  unfrequent ;  they 
become  less  and  less  scandalous ;  and  by  all,  who  are  inclined  lo 
perpetrate  them,  are  esteemed  less  ana  less  sinful.  Of  course 
they  Hre  regarded  with  decreasing  reluctance  and  horror.  The 
fether  practises  them ;  and  with  his  example  corrupts  his  son.  The 
husband  in  the  same  manner  corrupts  his  wife ;  the  brother  hit 
brother ;  the  friend  his  friend ;  and  the  neighbour  his  neighbour. 

Vol.  III.  53 


V  ,■       .   Soon  the  Brothel  raises  ils  polluted  walls  ;  and  becomes  a  8cm- 

|ii  inary  of  Satan,  where  crimes  are  provided ;  taught;  perpettated; 

(,•  -TnuUiplied  without  number,  and  beyond  degree;  aoa,  lo  a  grew 

^'  ,  extent,  concealed  from  the  public  eye.     To  one  of  these  cavenu 

>•  of  darkness  and  death,  another  succeeds,  and  another  ;  until  the 

city,  and  ullimatety  the  whole  land,  becotnes  one   vast  Sodoa. 

Lost  to  every  thought  of  refonualion,  and  to  every  feeling  of  Coo- 

Iscience  ;  an  attimiskmmt,  and  a  hissing,  to  TJiankmd  }   a  reprobate 

of  Heaven  ;  it  invokes  upon  the  heads  of  its  putrid  inhabitants  a 

.'  }jiew  tempest  of  fire  and  brimstone.     Morals,  life,  and  hope,  lo 

tauch  a  community,  have  expired.     They  breathe,  indeed,  aod 

move,  and  act ;  and  to  the  careless  eye  appear  as   living  beinp. 

But  the  life  is  merely  a  counterfeit.  They  are  only  a  host  of  movmg 

corpses ;  an  assembly  of  the  dead,  destined  to  no  future  resut- 

Tection.     Disturbed  and  restless  spectres,  they  haunt  the  sur&a 

■of  the  earth  in  material  forms,  filling  the  sober  and  cootempb- 

^ve  mind  with  alarm  and  horror ;  until  they  finally  disappear,  and 

iturry  through  the  gloomy  mansions  of  the  grave  to  everiaitiiig 


% 


>• 


SERMON  CXXI.  ^  V. 

SEVENTH    COUMANDMENT. POtlTaAHr. DIVOKCE. 

HiTTBiw  lix.  3 — II  —Tht  Pharittu  alio  tamt  nnfv  him,  templing  him,  and  toying 
•Mo  Ain,  h  il  iaufulfor  a  man  la  put  aiB^kii  ai/e  /or  every  tauK  /  ^nd  ht 
•MtKi-uf,  dnd  Miri  unio  then,  Hant  gt  (ud  IM^  lAat  Hr,  ahith  tmult  lliem  at  the 
belcinniHg,  made  Ihtm  malt  ami  Jinale  ;  and  (airf.  For  Ihii  came  ihail  a  man 
ttart  JiilheT  and  mother,  <md  ihall  tttact  la  hii  v\fe  ;  and  Ihey  [vain  ihall  be  sni 
JItihr  Ifha-i/ort  they  art  iu>  tnort  (Main,  bvionefleA.  What,  therefore,  God 
hath  joined  li^ktr,lel  notmanfultmirultr.  Titeyny  unto  him,  H'hy  did  Motel, 
Ihtn,  canimaad  to  giBe  a  WTitinglifdijiorctment,and  tepalhtr  aicayf  UeiaitK 
imiD  them,  Moat,  httauH  oflhi  htrdneii  of  your  htarli,  lugtrtd  you  la  put  atnoy* 
jrour  tnrei ;  but  from  Iht  M^'iining  j(  wai  nal  lo.  And  I  lay  unto  ysu,  li'hotoeter 
ihall  put  avayhu  iB^t,emetptit  be  for  /arniealion,  and  Mhalt  marry  another,  earn- 
Biitttth  adulUri/:  auk  wtoM  marriahher,  tahieh  it  put  away,  dolh  aimnut  adul- 
ttry.  Uii  diteiplei  MUyulo  him.  If  the  rate  of  the  man  btia  vjilk  hiiutfti  it  it 
nal  good  U  marry.  Bui  fic  und  unle  them,  ill  men  cannot  neetve  Ihit  tayingt 
latt  they,  lo  tehmn  il  it  giKB. 

The  next  violation  of  the  Seyenlh  Command,  which  I  shall 
think  il  necessary  lo  examine  at  large  in  this  system,  is  Divorce. 

Wert- 1  delivering  a  formal  course  of  Ethical  Lectures ;  I  Hhould 
feel  myself  obliged  to  extend  the  same  examination  lo  Polygamy. 
As  a  practical  subject  in  this  Country,  it  demands,  indeed,  iitiie 
consiaeration.  But  from  its  inherent  intportaDce,  and  its  exteneive 
prevalence  ia  the  world ;  and  sliil  more  from  the  fact,  that  it  has 
been  either  partially,  or  wholly,  defended  by  some  grave  men  ;  it 
deservci  to  become  a  subject  of  serious  consideration.  Thinking 
men  ought  on  suih  a  subject  to  have  their  opinions  settled.  For 
these  rea£  ms,  alUough  1  cannot  expiate,  I  feel  myself  bound  to 
make  a  few  observwjons  upon  it  in  a  summary  manner. 

Polffgami/  it  tada^iful,  becaiue  God  in  the  original  Irulilution  of 
Marriage  conjtnfi  il  lo  Ike  union  of  one  man  with  one  vontan,  Fbt 
thit  cause,  said  He,  toko  created  them  tTiale  and  female,  shall  a  man 
ieav»  Ml  father  and  mother,  and  shall  cleave  vnlo  kis  wife,  and  they 
twOMnhall  be  onejltsk.  ffAont  Ood,  therefore,  hath  joined  together, 
let  Nol  man  put  asunder,  God  bath  joined  tvso.  This  is  the  only 
Authority,  under  which  Mtrriage  lawfully  exists.  Polygamy  is, 
therefore,  a  violation  of  the  institution  of  God. 

Polygami/  appears  lo  bt  dirtctlif  Jorbiddm  in  ihe  Moiaic  Lam, 
Lev.  iviii.  18.  TTwa  shall  not  take  awife  («  her  Sister,  lo  vex  her, 
in  her  life  time :  or,  as  it  ia  in  vhe  Margin,  TTiou  shall  nut  lake  oiu 
wife  to  another.  The  words  "  a  wife  lo  her  sister,"  Dr.  Edaiards 
observes,  arc  found  in  the  Hebrew,  if  1  remember  right,  eight 
limes.  In  every  other  passage,  except  that  just  quoted,  (hry  refer 
to  inanimate  objccls:  such  as  tht  wingi  of  Ihe  Cken^im,  Tenonif 


4f0  POLTGAMT.  [SER.  CXXL 

JSortict!,  &c.  They  seem  lo  denote,  principally,  the  exact  like- 
ness of  one  thine  to  another;  and  here  forbid,  as  the  margin  ex- 
presses il,  iht  taking  of  out  icife  to  another  in  her  lift  time, 

Poij/gamy  is  forbidden  in  the  Prt^ke^y  of  Malachi.  The  Lord 
hath  been  mlneu  between  thee  and  the  inife  of  thy  youth,  ngaiiut 
vthoDi  thou  hast  dealt  Ireachtrmisly  :  yet  is  she  thy  companion,  and 
the  wift  of  thy  covenant.  And  did  not  he  make  one  ?  Yri  had  it 
the  residue  of  Ike  Spirit.  And  -mherefoTt  ont  ?  Thai  he  might  tuk 
a  godly  seed.     Mai.  ii.  14,  15. 

The  prophet,  in  this  passage,  although  speaking  of  all  the  wivei 
in  the  nation  of  Israel,  yet  mentions  the  word  in  the  singular  inimirr 
only.  Of  (he  union  of  one  husband  with  one  wife  he  declares 
God  to  have  been  witness;  and  thus  plainly  indicates,  thai  iJjis 
union  lawfully  extended  lo  no  more.  In  the  second  verse  tjuoled, 
he  asks,  Did  He  not  make  one  ?  That  is,  one  vife,  when  lit  had 
the  residue  of  the  Spirit,  and  could  with  the  same  ease  have  created 
many,  if  he  had  pleased.  And  wherefore  one  ?  To  tliis  queslica 
he  answers,  That  he  might  seek  a  godly  sted.  In  other  words,  he 
created  one  man  and  one  woman,  and  united  them,  and  them  onlv, 
in  the  Marriage  Institution;  because  one  husband  and  one  wile, 
thus  united,  would  by  religious  education,  and  example,  prcii 


ety  in  their  offspring.    This  is  an  implicit,  but  clear  and  decisive, 

:c[aralion,  that  in  a  state  of  Polygamy,  pious  children   nould 

very  rarely  be  found.   Polygamy,  therefore,  cannot  be  lawful ;  as 


being  hostile  to  the  design  of  God  in  this  InstllutioD,  and  lo  the 
highest  interest  of  mankind. 

Polygamy  is  expressly  forbidden  in  the  Tt3:t.  Here.  ih< 
who  putft  ftway  his  wife,  and  marries  another,  is  declared  to  ci 
mit  adultery.  In  what  docs  this  adultery  consist  ?  Certainly 
in  putting  away  the  former  wife.  A  man  may  obvijusly  leave 
wife,  or  a  woman  her  husband,  and  yet  neitlier  o'  ihem  be  at 
guilty  of  this  sin.  The  adultery,  then,  consists  ib  the  fad,  that  i 
man  marries  a  second  wife,  v>hcle  the  first  is  livitg'  But  this  is  a^ 
ways  done  in  Polygamy,  Polygamy  is,  therefore,  a  continued 
slate  of  Adultery. 

There  is  not  a  passage  in  the  Scriptures,  in  vhick  the  Institution  of 
Marriage,  or  the  relation  ickich  it  creates,  ii  spoken  of  in  ikt  fo\ 
titker  ^doctrine,  or  precept,  which  gives  teen  a  remote  hint  of 
lawful  union  of  more  than  two  persons.     Husband  and  Wife 
the  terms,  invariably  used  in  every  case  of  this  nature. 

A  Bishop  and  a  Deacon,  in  an  age,  wien  Polygamy  mat  common, 
ore  expressly  required,  each,  lo  be  a  hniband  of  one  wift,  Ycl  Por- 
ridge is  declared  to  be  honouralle  in  a.l.  If  Polygamy,  thrn,  were 
at  all  the  marriage  spoken  of,  jr  the  Scriptural  Marriage;  it  would 
be  honourable,  and  tnereforc  becom'ng,  and  proper,  in  Bishops  and 
Deacons;  and  no  reason  appears  for  this  restriction  on  ihem,  ai^ 
more  than  on  other  men. 


noj 


^ 


SEK  CXXL]  DIVORCE.  43J 

The  only  inslance  of  Polygamy,  recorded  in  the  Scriptures,  during 
the  Jint  two  Ihoueana  years  after  the  Inalitulion  0/ Marriage,  wet 
that  "fLamech;  and  this  appears  to  have  been  considered  by  him- 
self, 'tnd  tkfite  around  him,  as  li^vl.  Aba/t  and  his  ihrcc  sons,  bad 
but  one  wife  each.  . 

^it  the  instances  of  Polygamy  nf  which  the  history  is  given  in  the 

julureii,  to  any  extent,  teere  sources  of  many  and  bitter  calamities, 

(f  to  the  Parents  and  Children. 

^tially  hostile  lo  this  practice  is  the  slate  offactt- 
'Ht  numbers  of  the  sexes,  born,  and  living  to  adull  years,  in  all 
'  nations  and  ages,  have  been  so  nearly  equal,  as  lo  indicate  plainly  the 
will  if  the  Author  of  our  being,  that  one  man  and  one  woman,  only, 
mere  to  be  united  as  parties  in  Marriage.     This  equality  is,  indeed, 
denied  by  Mr.  Bnat,  with  respect  to  S^na  and  Jlrabia ;  and  with 
DO  small  appearance  of  being  founded  on  evidence.     But  when  I 
rememlicr,  that  it  is  a  contradiction  to  the  law  of  our  nature  in  all 
aees,  and  in  all  other  places ;  that  the  fact  is  mentioned  by  no  an- 
cient or  modern  hisloriai) ;  that  Mr,  Bruce,  so  far  as  my  informa- 
i  tion  rxlends,  is  the  only  traveller  who  has  mentioned  it ;  particu- 
'^fcrij-,  that  it  escaped  the  observations  of  Shaip,  Russel,  Maundrel, 
' '  ^Rf  especially  Kuburhi.  1  cannot  help  believing,  that  this  respect- 
able Writer  was  misJed-in  his  apprehensions.     It  ought  to  be  add- 
ed, that  the  knowledge,  Jn  question,  must,  if,  attained  at  all,  be 
front  ih";  existing  state  of  Society  in  those  countries  attained  with 
extreme  difficulty,  and  accompanied  with  not  a  little  uncertainty. 
This  -.tory  is  also  expressly   coniradicied  by  Lord  ValerUia,  who 
has  litely  travelled  in  Arabia. 

Polygamy  is  unfriendly  lo  population. 

When  the  World  was  to  be  replenished,  under  an  immediate 
command  of  God,  with  human  beings  ;  a  single  pair  was  chosen  to 
be  the  means  of  accomplishing  this  design. 

When  the  same  design  was,  under  the  same  command,  to  be  ac- 
complished anew  j  God  chose  the  three  sons  ofAtiaA,  and  their 
three  wives,  as  ihfr  proper  means  of  fulfilling  it. 

The  Turks  are  Polygamists.  They  possess  all  the  power,  al- 
most all  the  wealth,  and  therefore  almost  all  the  means  of  subsist- 
ence, found  in  their  empire.  Yet  they  are  few  in  number,  com- 
pared with  the  Greeks ;  who  marry  but  one  wife,  and  who,  subject- 
ed to  iron  bondage  under  the  despotism  of  these  hard  masters,  are 
contiiiuiilly  imppverished,  and  plundered  of  a  precarious  subsist- 
ence, by  their  rapacious  hands. 

Pol'jgamy  degrades  from  their  proper  rank,  privileges,  and  en' 
joymetils,  lo  an  almost  animal  level,  one  half  of  ihe  huntan  race. 
This  enormous  injustice  no  consideration  can  excuse,  or  pal- 
liate. 
*  Po!\igamy  has  regularly  introduced  domestic  broils  of  the  moat 
hittrr  kind,  terminating  in  the  most  fatal  manner,  and  involving  in 
their  deplorable  consequences  both  the  Parents  and  the  Children* 


i 


POIiTOAIIT.  CNDt 

Of  this  truth  complete  proofs  are  found  in  the  few  historical  ac- 
counts, which  have  reached  us,  of  the  Turkish  and  Persian  royal 
&milies. 

These  considerations,  if  I  mistake  not,  amply  prove,  that  Pohg" 
ttmv  is  wdawfudy  and  a  direct  violation  of  the  Seventh  Comnutnai 

I  shall  now  proceed  to  consider  the  proper  subject  of  the  Teit, 
This  1  shall  introduce  under  the  following  General  Observatioii,as 
directly  expressing  the  principal  doctrine  in  the  Text ; 

That  Divorcesj  for  any  other  cause,  except  Ineoniinenee^  art  urf 
lawful. 

This  important  Scriptural  Truth  I  shall  endeavour  to  support 
by  arguments,  derived  both  from  Scripture,  and  Beason* 
From  the  Scriptures,  I  allege, 

L  7%a/  Marriage  is  a  Divine  Institution  ;  and  if,  therefore,  wh 
alterable  by  Man. 

That  Marriage  is  a  Divine  Institution  has,  I  apprehend,  been 
made  abundantly  evident  from  several  parts  of  this  passage,  exam- 
ined in  the  Discourse  on  the  Origin  of  Marriage.  It  was  there 
C'oved,  if  I  mistake  not,  that  God  has  really  joined  together  eveiy 
wfuUy  Biarried  pair  among  the  children  of  Adam.  That  dM 
Ood  hath  thus  joined  by  his  Infinite  Authority,  man  cannot  lawfiilly 
mil  asunder,  needs  no  illustration.  God  has  made  the  hMm  one 
Bian  cannot  make  them  twain  again,  unless  with  the  evident  per 
mission  of  God. 

It  is  to  be  observed  here,  that  the  translation  exactly  expresses 
the  meaning  of  the  original  m  this  part  of  the  text :  LfCt  not  num 
put  asunder.  The  Greek  word  is  a^futos,  without  the  article :  the 
most  absolute,  and  unlimited,  expression,  ii)  that  language,  to 
denote  man  universally,  vnthoiU  any  respect  to  age,  sex,  or  conO- 
tion*  The  prohibition,  therefore,  is  not,  that  the  husband,  as 
among  the  Jews,  Greeks,  and  others ;  nor  that  a  judicial  trAunal, 
as  among  ourselves ;  nor  that  a  legislature,  as  in  some  other 
Communities ;  may  not  sunder  this  union ;  but  that  Man,  in  ne 
condition,  place,  or  time ;  Man,  possessed  of  no  attthoriiy  what* 
ever  ;  may  sunder  this  union,  without  an  express  permission  from 
God. 

3.  I  allege  as  a  decisive  arpment,  the  Guilt,  which  is  directhf 
charged  by  Christ  upon  all  the  parties  in  the  Divorce^  and  the  cmt 
sequent  Marriages. 

in  the  Text,  Christ  declares,  that  the  man,  who  divorces  hb 
wife,  and  marries  another,  and  the  man,  who  marries  the  divorced 
wife,  are  both  guilty  of  adultery  in  this  transaction.  The  same 
crime,  in  Matth.  v.  32,  is  charged  upon  the  divorced  woman.  It 
mil  not  be  questioned,  that  the  woman,  who  marries  the  divorced 
"  husband,  is  guilty  in  exacdy  the  same  manner.  Neither  of  these 
Marriages,  therefore,  can  possibly  take  place,  without  involring 
/he  crime  of  adultery  in  both  the  married  parties.  Consequently. 
>  Divorce,  except  for  Incontinence,  is  here  for  ever  barred,    k 


v  law-  ■ 


Dirorce  professedly  sets  the  parties  free ;  so  that  they  may  law- 
fully marry  again.  Bui  it  is  plain  from  these  observations,  that 
they  cannot  be  thus  set  free,  and  can  never  lawfully  marry  again. 
Whatever  husbands,  judges,  or  leeislators,  may  think,  or  declare, 
or  do ;  all  these  parties  will  by  their  subsequent  Marriages  become 
guilty  of  adultery.  Thus  Christ  has  pronounced;  and  thus  He 
certainly  will  pronounce  at  the  final  day. 

It  is  here  to  be  remarked,  that  this  decision  of  Christ  was  totally 
contrary  to  the  views,  enlerlaitied  by  his  Apostles.  This  tbey  direct- 
ly declare  in  the  following  words:  If  Ike  case  of  Ike  man  be  lo  wUh 
his  uife;  it  ia  not  good  to  marry.  Christ,  however,  does  not  qual- 
ify, nor  soften,  the  decision  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  he  leaves  it 
eiaclly  where  he  had  left  it  before.  All  men,  he  replies,  cannoi 
receive  this  saying ;  save  ihey,  lo  whom  it  is  given  ;  and  again  ;  He, 
that  is  able  to  receive  it,  let  him  receive  il, 

3.  St.  Paul  has  determined  the  $ame  potnl  anew  ;  and  in  the  mo$t 
txplicit  manner  conceivable. 

Unto  the  married  I  command  ;  yet  not  I,  but  the  Lord  ;  Let  not 
the  wife  depart :  ^ujiffiijuu,  be  separated  ;  that  is,  by  a  divorce ; 
voluntarily  accomplished  by  herself;  from  ktr  hiuband ;  this  be- 
ing the  only  command,  which  could  be  addressed  to  the  Wife  with 
any  meaning.  But  and  if  she  ih-part ;  Eav  &t  wu  x"fif*fl  i  J5wi  even 
ifshe  be  separated;  that  is,  by  rncLins  of  a  divorce,  accomplished 
by  him ;  let  her  remain  unmarried,  or  be  reconciled  to  her  husband: 
and  let  not  the  husband  put  aaay  his  wife;  vuavi^a.  ^voiica  fi^et^msi, 
and  I  also  command  the  husband  not  to  put  niua^  hi.i  wife.  This 
also  is  a  part  of  the  Command,  given  by  Christ  in  the  Text;  and 
18  quoted,  not  as  I  apprehend  from  the  Text  itself,  which  it  is  very 
possible  St.  Paul,  at  this  time,  may  not  have  seen ;  but  from  that 
immediate  Revelation,  which  this  Apostle  received  of  the  Gospel 
from  the  mouth  of  Christ, 

We  have  here  the  decision  of  Christ  concerning  this  subject  re- 
cited, and  declared  to  he  his  decision  by  St.  Paul ;  and  therefore 
know  the  manner  in  which  this  command  of  our  Saviour  was  un- 
derstood by  an  inspired  commentator.  The  same  precept  is 
here  given  in  all  its  latitude.  A  Divorce,  on  both  sides,  is  abso- 
lutely prohibited;  and,  in  case  of  a  Divorce,  the  injured  party, 
the  person  divorced,  is  forbidden  expressly,  and  absolutely,  to 
marry  again. 

The  Apostle  then  goeson,  £m<Jo  the  rest:  that  Is,  I o  those  whose 
cases  were  not  contemplated  by  the  command  of  Christ,  because 
they  had  not  existed,  when  that  command  was  given  ;  Bui  lo  the 
rest  I  command,  not  the  Lord.  If  any  Brother,  that  is,  a  Christian, 
hath  a  wife,  who  ia  an  infidel,  and  she  be  well  pleased  to  dwell  with 
Aim  ,■  let  him  not  put  her  away :  and,  if  any  woman,  that  is,  any 
Christian  woman,  hath  an  husband,  who  is  an  infidel,  andhe  be  wett 
phased  to  dwell  wilk  her  {  let  kernotput  himaway. 


484  FOLTGABfY.  [8EB.  CJOL 

The  case  here  meivtioned  by  the  Apostle  was  a  new  one.  Wbfle 
Christ  was  on  eartkj  there  were  no  Christians,  who  had  infidel, 
that  is  heathen,  husbands^  or  Mrives.   For  the  peculiar  circumstan- 
ces of  persons,  thus  situated,  Christ  had,  therefore,  made  no  di- 
rect, explicit  provision.     Doubts  concerning  the  proper  conduct 
of  such  persons,  with  regard  to  the  duties  of  the  married  state,  ajp- 
pear,  evidently,  to  have  arisen  in  the  Church  of  Corinth.    Toe 
great  evil,  felt  by  these  Christians,  con^cillin^  which  they  clearly 
appear  to  me  to  have  written  to  St.  Paul  for  his  directions,  seems 
to  have  consisted  in  these  two  things :  the  difficulties,  to  which  Iheg 
were  subjected  hy  their  infidel  husbands  ana  wiveM^  with  respect  to 
their  attendance  on  the  Ordinances  of  the  Gospel  j  end  their  fean^ 
lest  their  cUUfun,  having  one  irfidel  parent,  should^   on  accmai 
of  this  fact,  a  excluded  from  the  Christian  Churchy  and  demei 
the  Ordinance  of  iBaptism.     The  latter  of  these  evils  the  Apostle 
removes,  together  with  the  apprehensions  of  it,  in  the  following 
verse*     For  the  unbelieving  husband  is  sanctified  by  the  believing 
wife  ;   and  ihe  unbelieving  wife   by  the  husband :   else  were  your 
children  latclean  ;  but  now  are  they  holy.     Thtt  is,  the  unbeliey- 
ing  party  in  the  marriage-slate  is,  by  means  of  this  connexion 
with  the  believing  party,  sanctified,  in  such  a  sense,  that  the  chil- 
dren are  not  put  out  of  the  covenant,  but  may  be  offered  up  to 
God  in  Baptism. 

*The  former  of  these  difficulties  the  Apostle  obviates  in  the 
verse,  next  succeeding.     But  if  the  unbelieiring  depart ;  let  him 

depart »  Ei  di  aftitfros  X"f*|^^'  X^f'^^^^"*  ^^  ^^^  infidel  separate 
himself,'  let  him  separate  himself.  A  brother,  or  a  sister,  is  not  m 
bondage  in  such  things.  But  God  hath  called  us  to  peace.  The 
Apostle,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  had  no  control  over  tne  Heathen. 
He  says  therefore,  If  the  Infidel  separate  himself;  let  him  separate 
himself.  This  is  a  case,  over  which  I  have  no  control ;  in  which 
you  can  obtain  no  relief;  and  to  which  you  are,  therefore, 
oound  to  submit  with  patience  and  resignation.  But  a  Brother, 
or  Sister,  is  under  no  obligation  to  follow  the  Infidel  Party ;  what- 
ever may  oe  thought  concerning  the  extent  of  the  marriage-vow; 
nor  to  forsake  the  Worship  ot  God,  or  its  Ordinances;  nor  to 
consent,  that  his  or  her  children  should  be  withdrawn  from  the 
privileges  of  religion.  Such  a  case  involves  the  deepest  bon- 
dage ;  and  to  this  Dondage  no  Christian  brother,  or  sister,  is  sub- 
jected. The  Verb,  here  rendered  is  in  bondage,  is  6s&zKurm ;  lit- 
erally rendered  hath  been  reduced  to  the  deepest  servitude.  The 
servitude,  intended  by  the  Apostle,  is,  in  my  apprehension,  un- 
questionably the  submission  of  a  Christian  to  an  infidel  husband, 
or  wife,  so  hostile  to  the  Christian  Religion,  as  to  refuse  to  contimu 
in  the  marriage  relation,  and  perform  the  duties  involved  in  tV,  toi- 
less  the  Christian  partner  will  consent  to  give  up  the  privilege  of 
the  Gospel.     This  would,  indeed,  be  a  deploraole  bondage ;  and 


8KR.  CXXI.]  DIVORCK.  ig^ 

deserving  of  being  expressed  by  the  strong  term,  which  St.  Paul 
has  selected. 

Several  very  respectable  CommentajiKSy  and  among  them  Poolt^ 
Doddridge^  diiid,  Micknight^  have,  I  am  aware,  supposed  this  bon* 
dage  to  consist  in  the  obligation^  under  which  the  Christian  party 
might  be  imagined  to  lie,  to  continue  still  unmarried.  I  acknowl- 
edge myself  surprised  atlUi  explanation,  and  at  the  reasons,  by 
which  it  is  professedlyjlQi^orted.  Dr.  Mackmight^  afier  allegii^ 
that  this  is  the  Apostle^s  meaning,  declares,  that  his  decision  is 
just ;  because  there  is  no  reason^  why  the  innocent  partly  through 
the  fault  of  the  guilty  party ^  should  be  exposed  to  the  danger  of 
committing  aMtery. 

Pooh  says,  <*  Such  a  person  hath  broken  the  btmdjf.  marriage} 
and  Christians  are  not  under  bondage^  by  the  (qpt  ^Ood,  to  keep 
themselves  unmarried^  on  account  of  the  pervenfeness  of  such  par^ 
ties  to  the  marriage  covenant*^^ 

To  this  opinion,  and  these  reasons,  I  answer,  that  CAm<  has  ex- 
pressly  forbidden  the  divorced  wife^  however  innocent,  to  marry 
again  ;  and  has  declared,  that  if  she  does  marry,  she  will  be  an 
ndulteress.  Certainly,  the  divorced  wife  may  be,  and  often  is,  as 
innocent,  as  the  deserted  wife  ;  and  in  the  nature  of  the  case  is  as 
probably  innocent.  With  equal  justice,  then,  may  it  be  said  in^ 
this  case,  as  in  the  case  of  the  deserted  wife,  t^at  there  is  no  rea- 
son, why  the  innocent  party,  through  the  fault  of  the  gtdltyparh/^ 
should  be  exposed  to  commit  adultery, 

Aeain.  The  divorced  wife  is  more  injured  than  the  deserted  wife. 
She  IS  not  only  deprived  of  all  the  privileges,  and  blessings,  lost 
by  the  deserted  wife,  but  of  many  more.  She  is  forced  by  vio- 
lence from  her  husband,  her  children,  and  her  home.  She  is 
turned  out  with  disgrace ;  as  a  woman,  with  whom  her  husband 
could  not  continue  to  live ;  and  usually  with  little  provision,  made 
for  her  subsistence.  The  wife,  who  is  deserted,  is  on  the  contra- 
ry, almost  always  leil  in  the  possession  of  her  house,  her  children, 
lier  character,  and  tolerable  means  of  subsistence  for  herself  and 
her  family.  She  may  be,  and .  most  usually  is,  deserted  for  rea- 
sons, involving  no  disgrace  to  her.  Her  husband  may  have  con- 
tracted an  unwarrantaole  attachment  for  another  object ;  indulged 
a  spirit  of  roving,  and  adventure  ;  disgraced  himself  by  his  pre- 
vious conduct;  or  fled  from  some  exposure  to  punishment  fcx* 
some  crime,  or  from  creditors,  whom  he  cannot,  or  will  not,  pay* 
Accordingly,  deserted  wives  are  probably  as  generally  persons  of 

Sood  reputation,  as  others  of  their  sex.  On  all  these  accounts, 
le  case  of  the  divorced  wife  is  incomparably  harder,  than  that  of 
the  deserted  wife.  Can  it  be  possible,  that  Christ  has  rescued 
the  deserted  wife  from  this  deepest  boqdaee ;  as  these  writers  un- 
derstand it ;  and  have  left  the  divorced  wife,  amid  so  many  more, 
and  severer,  hardships,  yet  equally  innocent,  to  suffer  the  whole 
extent  of  this  thraldom  f 

Vol.  III.  64 


I 


430  POLTGAMY.  [SER.  CXXL 

m  •' 

w 

Mr.  Pooh  says,  the  deserter  hath  broken  the  bond  of  Marriage, 
and  thus  released  the  deserted  party  from  the  laws  of  God  (on- 
cerning  it;  so  far  as  they  require  abstinence  from  Marriage. 

I  answer:  The  Divorcer  has  broken  this  bond  still  more  vio- 
lently ;  and  made  the  infraction  more  complete.  Of  coursr.  he 
has,  according  to  this  scheme,  in  a  higher  degree  made  it  lawful 
for  the  divorced  wife  to  marry  again.  This  reasoning,  thcrel'ore, 
equally  with  that  of  Dr.  Macknightj  makes  the  decision  of  Clirist 
both  unwise,  and  unjust. 

t    Besides,  this  scheme  renders  the  precept  concerning  Divorce 
Y)*niirely  fruitless.     The  man,  who  wishes  to  divorce  his  wife,  is 
?^Jby  this  scheme  entirely  released  from  all  the  trouble  and  ex- 
pense, and  generally  also  from  the  scandal,  usually  attendant  up- 
on this  iniquitous  proceeding.     He  cannot,  indeed,  free  himself 
from  the  sin  of  deserting  his  wife,  and  all  those  sins  which  are 
involved  in  it.     But  he  may  give  his  wife  the  opportunity  of  nla^ 
rying,  innocently,  another  husband.     When  this  is  done ;  he  him- 
self may,  for  aught  that  appears,  marry  innocently  another  vife. 
Thus,  by  undergoing  an  absence  of  three  years,  the  time  htn 
.lin.ited  for  this  object,  he  may  without  any  peculiar  scandal,  and 
'    without  the  sin  oi  adultery,  accomplish  the  very  object,  aimed 
at  in  cases  of  this  nature  by  licentious  men :  viz.  a  second  ma^ 
riaee. 

St.  Paul  in  the  mean  time,  has  in  this  very  chapter  determined 
the  point  in  question  against  these  Commentators.  Unto  the  mar' 
ried  I  command^  yet  not  /,  but  the  Lord;  Let  not  the  wife  be  scpih 
rated  from  her  husband.  But^  even  if  she  be  separated,  let  hern- 
main  unmarried^  or  be  reconciled  to  her  husband.  The  word,  here 
translated  separated,  is  the  same  which  is  used  in  the  15th  verse; 
the  subject  of  this  inquiry.  Is  it  credible,  that  an  inspired  man 
should  at  all,  or  that  any  man  of  sober  sense  should  within  the 
compass  of  five  sentences,  give  two  contradictory  precepts  con- 
cernmg  any  subject  j  especially  a  subject  of  this  importance  ? 
Peculiarly  it  is  incredible,  that  St.  Paul,  immediately  after  reciting 
a  solemn  command  of  Christ,  and  declaring  it  to  be  his^  should 
subjoin  a  contradictory  command! 

To  me  it  appears  equally  incredible,  that  an  Apostle  should  de- 
signate the  situation,  in  which  Christ  had  placed  an  innocently 
divorced  woman,  innocently  I  mean,  on  her  part,  by  the  word 
ifi^^XwToj ;  and  thus  style  it  the  deepest  bondage.  It  is,  I  think,  im- 
possible, that  the  spirit  of  God  should  call  any  state  produced  by 
obedience  to  the  commands  of  Christ,  by  the  name  of  bondage; 
and  still  more  evidently  impossible,  that  he  should  denote  it  by 
a  name,  expressing  the  most  suffering  and  disgraceful  bondage. 
How  can  such  an  appellation  consist  with  that  phraseolog)',  in 
which  the  whole  situation  of  Christians  is  by  tne  same  Spirit 
styled  the  giorious  liberttj  of  the  Sons  of  God  ?  If  the  deserted 
wife  is  brought  under  this  bondage,  by  being  denied  the  liberty 


8ER.  CXXI  ]  DIVORCE.  497 

•4 

■  T 

of  marrying  again  ;  the  divorced  wife  is,  by  the  same  dcnh^' 
brought  under  this  bondage  in  a  still  more  distressing  degree.' 
Yet  to  this  situation  she  k  reduced  by  the  express  command  of 
Christ. 

Finally.     St.  Paul  himself  has  clearly  shown,  that  this  was  not 
his  meaning,  by  the  words  immediately  following  the  passage  in 

2uestion.     But  God  hath  called  us  to  feact*     For  how  knowtbi  ihouj 
^  zD(/e,  whether  thou  shall  save  thy  husband?    Or  how  knowesl  ihouy 

0  man,  whether  thou  shalt  save  thy  wife  ?  Surely  the  second  mar- 
riage, contended  for,  cannot  ordinarily  be  the  means  of  the  peace 
here  mentioned :  that  is,  peace  or  concord  between  the  divorcedL 
pair.  Much  more  is  it  improbable,  that  a  husband,  or  a  w9l|^. 
should  by  means  of  second  marriages  become  instruments  of  salva- 
lion  to  each  other.  This  desirable  event  may  be  fairly  hoped  for, 
if  they  continue  unmarried,  from  their  future  reconciliation  to  each 
other ;  but  cannot  be  even  remotely  hoped  for  from  their  divorce, 
and  their  consequent  final  separation. 

Should  it  be  said,  that  the  case  of  the  deserted  wife  is  a  hard  one : 

1  acknowledge  it.  The  sins,  both  of  ourselves  and  others,  create 
none  but  *vird  cases.  That  of  the  divorced  wife  is  still  harder«r; 
The  reaoori,  why  this  law  ia  established,  is  undoubtedly  found  in 
the  immense  importance  of  the  Marriage  Institution,  It  is  incom- 
parably better,  that  individuals  should  suffer,  than  that  an  Institu- 
tion, which  is  the  basis  of  all  human  good,  should  be  riiakeii,  or 
endangered. 

1  have  dwelt  thus  minutely  on  this  abused  passage,  because  it  it 
the  strong  hold  of  those,  with  whom  I  am  contending.  If  they 
cannot  find  support  for  their  opinions  here;  they  can  find  it  no 
where.  That  they  cannot  find  it  here  has,  I  trust,  been  shown  be- 
yond a  reasonable  doubt. 

What  the  Scriptures  teach  us  concerning  the  subject  of  divorce, 
is  abundantly  established  by  Reason.  This  I  shall  attempt  to  evince 
in  the  following  Observations. 

It  is  acknowledged  by  the  Advocates  for  this  system,  that  the 
Scriptures  do  indeed  forbid  a  divorce  for  any  other  reason^  beside  /n- 
continence^  or  something  equivalent.  The  things,  which  they  con- 
sider as  equivalent,  are  Obstinate  Desertion^  Gross  Personal  Jibuse^ 
Incompatibility  of  Temper^  Confirmed  Madness,  &c.  I  do  not  in- 
tend, that  they  are  all  agreed  with  respect  to  this  class  of  things ; 
but  that  some  or  other  of  these  they  actually  propose  as  reasons 
for  divorce  equivalent  to  Incontinence. 

Concerning  this  subject  I  observe, 

1  *  That  there  is  no  such  thing,  as  an  Equivalent  in  this  case. 

No  crime,  no  injury,  affects  the  happiness  of  wedlock,  or  wounds 
so  deeply  every  domestic  interest.  None  so  entirely  terminates 
every  enjoyment,  and  every  hope,  as  the  crime,  mentioned  by  our 
Saviour.  As  this  is  sufficiently  evident  from  the  preceding  dis- 
course ;  it  would  be  useless  to  spend  time  in  considering  it  any 


> 


128  POLTOAMT.  (SKR.  COL 

farther.  T  shall  only  observe,  therefore,  that  Incontinence  not 
only  destroys  connubial  happiness,  and  hopes;  but  annihilates,  so 
far  as  it  extends,  the  very  Institution,  from  which  they  spring. 

2.  What  is  at  least  equally  important^  the  Scriptures  hate  no 
where  mentioned  any  thing  as  an  e^valent. 

It  must,  I  think,  ne  admitted  without  a  question,  that,  if  the  Di- 
vine Lawgiver  hau  intended,  that  any  thing  should  be  considered, 
in  the  case  in  hand,  as  an  equivalent  to  Incontinence,  He  certainly, 
would  have  expressly  mentioned  it.  Certainly,  He  must,  at  least, 
be  Supposed  to  have  hinted  it,  or  alluded  to  it,  in  some  manner  or 
other.  But  this  He  has  not  done.  Unanswerably,  then,  it  was 
tio  part  of  his  intentions.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be  assumed  as  sod 
by  us.  We  are  here,  as  well  as  in  other  cases,  bound  absolutely 
to  see,  that  we  add  not  to  his  words^  lest  he  reprove  ttf,  and  we  it 
found  liars,  I  know  of  no  pretence,  that  there  is  any  thing  of 
this  nature  found  in  the  Scriptures,  except  the  desertion,  mention- 
ed in  the  passage,  which  has  been  so. long  the  theme  of  discussion: 
and  this,  it  is  believed,  has  been  clearly  shown  to  have  not  eyeii 
the  remotest  reference  to  the  subject  now  under  consideration. 
But, 

3.  It  is  urged^  that  the  evils j  involved  in  the  things^  here  -mentionsi 
as  equivalents  f  are  intolerable  ;  and  demand  relief  from  hmsianjw' 
risppidence. 

To  this  I  answer, 

In  the  first  place,  Thatj  although  these  evils  were  tmwA  greeitr 
than  they  are  m  fact ;  and  I  acknowledged  them  to  be  very  great} 
yet^  if  God  has  not  thought  proper  to  allow  us,  and  still  more  if  Hi 
has  forbidden  us^  to  escape  from  them  in  the  manner  proposed^  tinsj 
must  be  alleged  in  vain  as  arguments  for  Divorce. 

The  Government  of  his  creatures  belongs  only  to  God :  and 
nothing  but  impiety  can  induce  us  to  interfere  with  eith^  the 
modes,  or  the  principles,  of  his  administration.  If  He  has  peimit- 
ted  Divorce  on  either  of  these  grounds ;  it  is  lawful.  If  He  has 
not ;  however  numerous,  or  great,  may  be  the  evils  which  we  suf- 
fer, they  will  not  contribute  at  all  towards  rendering  it  lawfuk 

Secondly.  All  these  evils  may  be  relieved  more  ptffectfyj  tkasL  by 
Divorce  ;  and  as  perfectly^  as  human  Governments  can  relieve  them, 
by  the  Separation  a  mensa  et  thoro. 

In  this  process,  the  parties,  though  not  released  from  the  bonds 
of  Marriage,  are  separated  from  each  other  so  far,  that  the  inno> 
cent  party  is  no  longer  bound  to  live  with  the  euilty.  The  com- 
mon property  is  so  ctisposed  of,  also,  as  to  fiirnisn  provision  for  tbe 
wants  of  both.  The  Children,  at  the  same  time,  are  distributed 
by  public  justice  in  the  best  manner,  which  the  case  will  admit. 
Here,  all  the  means  are  furnished,  which  can  be  furnished,  ftw  the 
relief,  and  future  safety,  of  the  aggrieved  party ;  and  incompara 
bly  better  means  than  any,  which  Divorce  can  offer* 


8ER.  CXn.]  DIVORCS.  4S9 

Thirdly.  Divorce j  instead  of  remedifing,  enhances  these  evils  6€- 
jfond  comprehension. 

A  Lawy  permitting  Divorces^  except  where  personal  worth  and 
wisdom  prevent^  produces  an  immediate  separation  of  interests  among 
all  the  married  persons  in  a  community.  With  a  complete  convic- 
tion of  their  liability  to  Divorce,  for  the  causes  alleged,  every  mar^ 
ried  pair  begin  their  connexion.  For  this  event,  then,  comnion 
prudence  requires  them  to  make  such  provision,  as  maybe  in  their 

{>ower.  The  wife,  the  feebler  and  more  dependent  party,  atrong- 
Y  realizing,  from  the  beginning,  her  danger  of  being  left  to  preca- 
nous  means  of  subsistence,  at  a  time  always  uncertain,  and  there- 
fore always  felt  to  be  near,  will  be  driven  by  common  prudence, 
and  powerful  necessity,  to  lay  lip  something  in  store  against  the 
,  evil  day.  The  husband,  aware  of  this  state  of  things  from  the 
beginning,  will  be  irresistibly  led  to  oppose  it  in  every  part  of  its 
progress.  This  he  will  do  by  placing  nis  property,  so  far  as  it 
may  be  in  his  power,  beyond  the  reach  of  his  wife ;  and  by  con- 
tending strenuously  for  the  preservation  of  the  remainder. 

A  separation  of  interests  is,  in  all  Intelligent  beings,  necessanly  a 
separation  of  affections.  Heaven  itself  would  cease  to  be  a  world 
of  love,  were  its  inhabitants  no  longer  to  feel  a  common  interest. 
Oneness  of  interests  makes  their  oneness  of  mind,  life,  and  la- 
bours. Separate  the  interests  of  a  married  pair ;  and  you  sepa- 
rate, at  once,  all  their  affections.  Show  them  the  promibility,  or 
even  the  possibility,  of  a  future  Divorce ;  and  yoju  show  them  its 
certainty.  From  this  moment  a  separation  of  interests  is  begun* 
From  this  period,  however  affectionate  they  may  oridnally  have 
been,  their  affection  will  cease.  The  consciousness,  mat  their  in- 
terests are  opposed,  will  immediately  beget  coldness,  alienation, 
jealousy,  and  in  the  end,  riveted  hatred. 

Between  persons,  living  together,  causes  of  dispute  can  never 
fail  firequently  to  arise.  Among  persons,  whose  interests  general- 
ly  harmonize,  and  who  are  governed  by  principle  and  mooeratioq, 
such  causes  produce  little  enect.  But  between  persons  in  the  situ- 
ation, which  I  have  described,  they  never  fail  to  operate  with  their 
fullest  efficacy.  Their  minds  are  ready  to  take  nre  on  every  oc- 
casion, and  to  construe  in  the  worst  manner  every  real,  or  suppos- 
ed, provocation;  every  seeming  neglect;  every  slight  word; 
every  unpleasant  look.  They  are  dissatisfied  with  almost  every 
thin^,  that  is  done,  or  left  undone.  A  spark  will  kindle  such  com 
bustible  materials  into  a  flame. 

Among  persons,  thus  circumstanced,  dispositions,  naturally 
kind,  soon  cecome  unkind :  tempers,  before  sufficiently  compati- 
ble, soon  become  utterly  incompatible.  Where  offices'of  kindness 
would  have  naturally  multiplied,  and  flourishedj  jars  are  multipli- 
ed ;  bitterness  flourishes ;  disputes  are  generated ;  personal  vio- 
lence follows ;  and,  not  unnaturally,  murder  itself.  Thus  the  very 
evils,  which  Divorce  professes  to  relieve,  it  only  creates ;  and 


^^*^^=»^- 


roLTOiinr.  puL 

wealM  tkett  in  aiiUions  of  instances,  where  it  designs  to  reliefe 
them  in  one.     Thus  plain  is  it,  to  use  the  language  of  Drydgn^  that 

**  God  netor  made  hii  work  for  iiMB  t04i|ad.** 


Wert  a  Dwwct  inpofiibU  ;  the  interests  of  every  married  ^ 
moM  be  otm,  ■  through  i^u  This  fact  would  so  far  unite  their  al^ 
fectiona,  as  to  prevent  a  great  part  of  the  debates,  of  which  I  hare 
bpen  spealoM ;  «nd  in  most  cases  to  terminate  the  rest  without 
•nj  serious  <£fficukv«  Persons,  who  know  that  their  contentiooi 
are  hopeless,  and  that,  however  desirable  their  separation  midtf 
•mm,  It  is  impossible  to  effect  it,  will,  almost  always,  so  fieir  nuDtt 
the  best  of  their  circumstances,  as  to  sit  down  in  a  tolerable  staH 
of  content*  The  absolute  union  of  their  interests  cannot  fail  is 
ftcur,  unceasingly,  to  their  minds ;  nor  to  operate  on  them  wiL 
fK.werfiil  efficacy.  Their  affection,  though  occasionally  intemiiKr 
ted,  will  return  with  its  former  strength.  The  neceaaity,  which 
•tach  feels  of  the  other's  good  offices,  will  daily  be  reafised.  Thi 
superior  happiness  of  former  harmony  will  be  remembered.  Their 
children  also,  for  whom  their  cares  have  been  so  often  kindly 
fliingled,  will  plead  in  the  most  interesting  manner  for  the  contiio- 
ance  of  their  mutual  good  will.  Thus  hfe,  although  not  without 
its  alternations  of  disquiet,  will,  in  the  main,  go  on  pleasantly, 
where,  in  millions  of  instances,  the  knowledge,  that  Ditorce  was 
-attainable,  would  have  produced  discord,  hatred,  separation  and 
fUin. 

It  is  well  known  to  every  observer  of  human  nature,  that  i 
ipominent  part  of  this  nature  is  the  love  iff  novelty  and  variei^  m 
aM  iUpwrmdts.  In  no  case  is  this  propensity  m  ire  predominsmti 
Ifaan  in  the  case  in  hand.  Polygamists  have  endeavoured  to  satis* 
fy  this  propensity  by  replenishing  their  harams  with  a  multitude  of 
friv€s.  Profligates  have  attempted  to  compass  the  same  object  by 
ii  ^BTomiscttOtts  concubinage.  The  endeavours  of  both,  howerei^ 
kave  been  equally  fruitless.  David  hy  this  disposition  was  seduo- 
'td  to  adultery.  Solomonj  in  the  multiplication  of  wives  and  coQ* 
cnbines.  Las  shown,  that  it  knows  no  limits ;  and  that  its  effects 
are  nothing  but  corruption  and  ruin.  By  Divorce,  this  disposition 
it  let  loose ;  and  the  spirit  of  licentiousness  has  the  sim  given  to 
loam,  and  ravage,  without  control.  The  &mily,  which  all  the 
causes  <ef  wretchedness,  ahready  mentioned,  would  not  have  mads 
onhappy,  will  be  ruined  by  this  cause :  a  cause  sufficiently  powtt^ 
ftil,  and  sufficiently  malignant,  to  ruin  a  world. 

0h  the  ChUdrenj  such  a  Mate  tf  things  is  a  regular  somree  ofabs^ 
hde  dsetrmotion.  During  the  contentions  of  the  Parents,  whiii 
frill  «raaUy  be  generatea  by  the  mere  attainableness  of  a  J)ivoi(0^ 
mui  which  beeome  ultiaiately  the  occasion  of  granting  it,  thtwU^ 
skmn  mil  mtiur  btfovwoUen^  or  forced  to  take  stdes  with  the  pareidM^ 
inix>th  cases,  then*  whole  education  to  useful  purposes  wiH  oe  neg* 
holed.    Atfticialtriy*  ihey  will  never  be  iroiM^tfp  miia  meriun 


LCXJO.J 


■ill  hr  * 


and  admonition  of  the  Lord.  Jarring  parents ;  and  there  will  br 
millions  of  such  parents  wherever  Divorce  prevails,  to  one  wbern 
itdoes  not  j  can  never  leach  their  children  religion,  either  by  pre- 
cepi,  or  example.  Amid  their  own  irreligious  contentions,  the 
iarce  would  be  too  gross  for  impudence  itself  to  act,  and  too 
ridiculous  to  be  received  seriously  even  bychildren.  They  would 
be  left,  therefore,  to  grow  up  Atheists,  or  Nihilists,  without  religion, 
without  a  God,  without  a  hope. 

In  ihtformtr  coat,  all  their  other  interests;  their  support,  their 
comfort,  their  preparation  for  business,  and  their  hopes  of  future 
usefulness,  reputation,  and  enjoyment;  would  be  neglected.  Pa- 
rents, whose  minds  were  in  a  continual  state  of  irritation,  and  hoB- 
lility,  could  never  unite  In  any  thing  of  this  nitture;  and  nothing 
^  of  this  nature,  in  which  they  did  not  unite,  i,^  Jdever  be  done  to 
Biiy  purpose* 

In  tilt  lalUr  cate,  the  children  would  be  taught  to  join  one  Parent' 
in  contending  against  the  other.  Here,  they  would  be  taught,  lome 
I*  dislionour  iheir  father,  and  tome  to  dishonour  their  mother  j  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  Moral  Law;  and  taug^ht  by  those,  whom 
God  had  appointed  to  leach  them  this  law.  Filial  impiety  is  the 
most  unnatural  and  monstrous  wickedness,  of  which  cnildren  are 
ordinarily  guilty.  We  cannot  wonder,  therefore,  that  it  should 
conduct  them  to  every  other  wickedness ;  that  it  should  etid 
in  impiety  to  God,  or  injustice  to  mankind.  The  children, 
here,  are  directly  taught  by  one  parent  to  hate  and  despise  the 
other.  Their  contentions  and  calumnies,  tlieir  mutual  scorn  and 
haired,  will  force  the  children  to  despise  both.  Children,  vrtio 
recard  their  parents  with  habitual  direspecl,  will  soon  respect 
Deilhcr  man,  nor  God.  Devoid  of  principle,  destitute  of  every 
good  habit,  trained  up  to  insubordination  and  rebellion,  and  wit- 
Desses,  from  their  infancy,  of  discord  only,  malignity,  abuse,  and 
slander;  they  are  prepared  to  be  mere  villains,  nuisances,  and 
p«ls,  in  the  world. 

I  have  all  along  supposed  the  parents  to  continue  together,  until 
tbe  children  have  grown  up  to  some  degree  of  maturity  and  reflec- 
tion. This,  however,  would  by  no  means  be  the  common  case ; 
and  would  esist  less  and  less  frequently,  as  Divorces  multiplied. 
The  conseauences  of  an  earlier  separation,  such  as  would  gener- 
ally take  place,  would  be  still  more  dreadful.  Such  of  the  chit- 
drtn,  at  foHoaed  the  mothrr,  however  affectionate  might  be  her 
disposition,  would  share  in  all  the  calamities,  necessarily  springing 
from  her  unprotected,  suflcring  condition.  Women  are  constitu- 
tionally unfitted  to  encounter  the  rude,  toilsome,  and  discouraging 
scenes,  every  where  presented  by  this  unkind,  untoward  world,  and 
allotted  by  the  Creator  only  to  the  robust  hardihood  of  man.  A 
divorced  female  is  almost  necessarily  an  outcast.  Her  children, 
who  follow  her  fortunes,  must  be  outcasts  also.  Defenceless  her- 
••If,  she  cannot  defend  tktm.     Unable  to  supporlhcrself,  she  will 


.<. 


499  POLTGAMT.  [8ER.  GUI 

be  still  more  unable  to  support  them.  Even  the  spirit  of  moder- 
ation will  regard  Ker  as  unworthy  and  disgraced.  The  common 
feelings  of  me  world  will  mark  her  as  the  mere  butt  of  sconi 
and  infamy.  Why  was  she  divorced?  ^'  Because  she  was  unfit 
to  sustain  the  character  of  a  wife,"  will  be  the  answer,  eveij 
where  hissed  out  by  the  tongue  of  contempt.  In  all  this  con- 
tempt, and  in  all  the  evils,  which  this  wolfish  spirit  draws  in  its 
train,  the  children  will  necessarily  share ;  and  will  be  regarded, 
like  the  spurious  offspring  of  beggars,  bom  under  a  hedge,  and 
buried  in  a  ditch. 

Such  of  them,  as  survived  their  multiplied  sufferings ;  and  these 
would  be  comparatively  few ;  would  be  solitary,  deserted  beines ; 
without  a  home  ;  without  a  father ;  without  education;  without  in- 
dustry ;  without  employment ;  without  comforts ;  and  without 
hopes ;  residing  no  where,  and  related  to  nobody.  Like  ike  wild 
men,  said  to  be  found  at  times  in  the  Forests  of  Germamf  and  Po- 
landy  and  supposed  to  be  nursed  by  bears^  they  would  sustain  the 
character  of  mere  animals.  At  war  with  every  thing,  and  bj 
every  thing  warred  upon ;  when  out  of  sight,  forgotten  ;  and  wh^ 
seen,  regarded  only  with  horror ;  they  would  live  without  a  friend; 
without  a  name  ;  nay^  sunk  beneath  the  cattle  wandering  in  the 
same  deserts,  without  a  mark,  to  denote  to  whom  they  belonged 
Thus  they  would  prowl  through  life ;  and  putrefy  on  the  spot, 
where  they  were  seized  by  death. 

•ATor  would  the  children,  who  followed  the  father  ^  inmost  instancei^ 
bi  at  all  more  comfortable.  The  cold-hearted  cruelty  of  step- 
mothf  rs  is  proverbial.  Palpable  iniustice  has,  I  doubt  not,  been 
extensively  done  by  the  unkind  opmions  of  the  public  to  persons 
of  this  denomination.  I  have  myself  known  multitudes  of  persons 
fill  this  station  with  great  integrity,  tenderness,  and  excellence. 
Yet  <  ven  in  this  enlightened,  refined,  and  Christianized  country,  I 
believe  there  are  few  mothers,  who  leave  the  world  while  their 
famili*  s  are  young,  without  very  serious  anxieties  concerning  the 
treatrncMit,  which  their  children  will  receive  from  their  future  step- 
mothers. This,  and  every  thing  else,  dreaded  or  complained  o{^ 
with  respect  to  the  class  of  persons  in  question,  exists  in  the  midst 
of  a  community,  made  up  of  Parents,  married  according  to  the 
Laws  of  God.     Their  families,  also,  live  in  the  midst  of  civilizatioD, 

SeniiiMiess  of  manners,  and  the  mild  influence  of  Religion  ;  where 
le  \\  bole  tide  of  things  flows  favourably  to  humanity,  justice,  kind- 
ness, and  all  the  interests  of  the  unprotected. 

Far  different  would  be  the  situation  of  children,  under  this  su- 

Eericitendence,  in  regions  where  divorce  prevails.  The  Father, 
avin^  released  himself  from  one  wife,  and  married  another,  wouU 
soon  forsake  the  second  for  a  third  ;  this  for  a  fourth  ;  this  for  a 
fifth ;  and  thus  onward,  without  any  known  limit.  A  French  soldier 
lately  declared  before  a  judicial  tribunal  in  Paris  that  he  had  mar- 
ried eleven  wives,  in  eleven  years;  and. boasted  of  this  fact  as 


SBBi  GXXL]  BIVOBOBii  43^ 

honourable  and  meritorious.  The  scandal  would  soon  vanish  ^ 
and  mere  convenience,  whim,  or  passion,  control  the  conduct* 
What,  then,  would  become  of  those  children  of  the  first  wife,  who 
fell  under  the  management  of  such  a  succession  of  stepmothers ; 
absolute  strangers  to  their  family,  their  interests,  and  even  their 
legitimacy:  their  mothers,  only  for  a  year,  a  month,  or  a  dayf 
mothers,  before  whom  they  would  only  pass  in  review,  rather  than 
with  whom  they  would  live :  mothers,  distracted  in  their  affections^ 
if  they  had  any ;  certainly  in  their  thoughts,  cares,  and  labour% 
distributed  to  so  many  childreD  of  so  many  sorts,  havmg  so  many  \ 
interests,  and  distracted,  themselves,  by  so  many  contentions  f  i 
Who  does  not  see  with  a  glance,  tha^  even  where  humanity  and 
principle  reigned,  these  friendless  beings  would  soon  be  neglected 
Dy  the  stepmother  in  &vpur  of  her  own  offspring?  What  must 
be  their  &te,  where  lewdness  had  succeeded  to  pnnciple,  and  hu- 
manity had  ahready  been  frozen  out  of  the  hearth  Soon,  very 
toon,  must  they  become  mere  and  miserable  outcasts ;  like  those, 
who  wandered  away  from  their  father's  house  with  their  divorced 
mother. 

Divorces,  once  authorized,  would  soon  become  ntunerous,  apd 
in  most  countries  would,  in  a  moderate  period  of  time,  control  the 
whole  state  of  society.  Even  in  tku  Sto/e,  where  the  dde  of  man* 
ners  and  morals  is  entirely  against  them,  and  where,  for  some* 
what  more  than  a  century,,  they  have  blackened  the  public 
character  with  a  strange,  and  solitarv,  but  dreadful,  spot,  they 
were,  indeed,  for  a  long  time,  rare,  ^he  deformity  of  the  object 
was  so  great,  the  prevalence  of  vital  Religion  was  so  general, 
and  the  power  of  Conscience  and  of  public  opinion  so  efficacious, 
that  few,  very  few  comparatively,  had  sufficient  tmrdihood  to 
apply.  The  Law,  also,  allowed  of  less  latitude  to  applications. 
At  the  present  time,  the  progress  of  this  evil  is  alarming  and  ter« 
rible.  In  this  town,*  within  five  years,  more  than  fifty  divorces 
have  been  granted:  at  an  average  calculation,  more  than  four  hun- 
dred in  the  whole  State  during  this  period :  that  is,  one,  out  oi 
every  hundred  married  pairs.  iVhat  a  flaming  proof  is,  here,  of 
the  baleful  influence  of  this  corruption  on  a  people,  otherwise  re- 
markably distinguished  for  their  intelligence,  morals,  and  religion! 
Happily,  a  strenuQus  opposition  is  begun  to  thi^  anti-scriptural  law^ 
whicn  It  may  be  fiauriy  hoped,*  will  soon  terminate  in  its  final  ro* 
irocation. 

In  Francty  within  three  months  after  the  Law,  permitting  Di» 
Torces,  was  enacted  by  the  National  Assembly,  there  were,  in  th« 
City  of  Paris  almost  as  many  Divorces  registered,  as  Marriages. 
In  the  whole  Kingdom,  there  were,  as  reported  by  the  Abbe  Grc- 
jfotVe,  Chairman  of  a  Committee  of  the  National  Assembly  on  that 
subject,  upwards  of  twenty  thousand  Divorces  registered  within 

*ll«w*HaTta 

Vol.  III.  5S 


494  DOrOBCB. 

about  a  year  and  an  half.  '<  This  Law,''  added  the  Abbe^  ^ 
soon  ruin  the  whole  nadon."  .^; . 

From  these  facts,  as  well  as  firom  the  nature  of  the  case,  it  is 
clearly  evident,  that  the  piogress  of  Divorce,  though  different  in 
different  countries,  will,  in  all,  be  dreadful  beyond  conception. 
Within  a  moderate  period,  the  whole  community  will  be  thrown, 
by  laws  made  in  open  opposition  to  the  Laws  of  God,  into  a  geoe> 
'  ral  prostitution.  No  difference  exists  between  this  prostitution,  and 
that  which  customarily  bears  the  name,  except  that  the  one  is  li* 
f  censed,  the  other  is  unlicensed,  by  man.  TotheEyeof  God,those^ 
who  are  polluted  in  eich  of  these  modes,  are  alike,  and  emiallji 
impure,  loathsome,  abandoned  wretches  \  the  oflspring  of  Sodom 
and  Chmorrah*  They  are  divorced  and  undivorced,  adohefea 
and  adulterteses ;  of  whom  the  Spuit  of  Tiuth  hath  said,  that  not 
one  of  them  shall  enter  inio  the  Kingdom  of  Qod.  Over  SQcbt 
country,  a  virtuous  man,  if  such  an  one  be  found,  will  search  is 
vain,  to  find  a  virtuous  wife.  Wherever  he  wanders,  nodung  w3  ' 
meet  his  eye,  but  stalking,  bare&ced  pollution.  The  reeJm  aroand 
him  has  become  one  vast  Brothel;  one  ereat  province  of  Ihi 
World  of  Perdidon.  To  that  dreadful  world  the  only  passan  ant 
of  it  directly  leads :  and  all  its  mhabitants,  throtiring  this  omd 
and  ctooIdm  way,  hasten  with  one  consent  to  uat  itmcbme  if 
dmrknoiif  which  envelops  it  for  ever* 


SERMON  CXXn. 


V 


llttBTH  COKKAHDKXNT. — IDLEVEB8* — ^PEODIttAUTT^ 


EioDVt  IS.  1ft.— TUii  tkmU  mti  MuL 

.  JL  HE  preceding  Command  prohibits  all  trespasses  against  jnvi* 
Ijy;  this  aeainst /)roper(y. 

To  steaT,  is  to  take  privately  the  property  of  others j  with  an  inimif* 
Han  to  convert  it  to  our  own  use.  To  A)\  is  to  take  the  same  property^ 
fit  the  same  purpose^  openly^  and  with  violence.  There  can  be  little 
necessity  of  expatiat^g  upon  a  crime,  so  well  nnderstoodi  and  so 
universally  infamous,  as  stealing,  before  an  assembly,  whose  edu- 
cation, principles,  and  habits,  funiir^h  so  strong  a  bairier  against  it. 
It  may,  however,  be  useful  to  observe,  that  this  crime  has  its  ori- 
gin in  that  spirit  of  covetousness,  which  prompts  us  to  wish,  in* 
ordinately,  for  the  enjoyments,  and  possessions,  of  others.  This 
spirit,  when  indulged,  continually  acquires  strength ;  and  in  many 
instances  becomes,  ultimatel]^,  so  powerful,  as  to  oreak  over  every 
bound  of  right,  and  reputation.  The  object  in  contemplation  is 
seen  to  be  desirable.  As  we  continue  to  contemplate  it,  it  be- 
comes more  and  more  desirable.  While  fhe  attention  of  the  mind 
is  fixed  upon  it,  it  will  be  turned,  comparatively,  very  litde  to 
other  objects ;  particularly  to  those  moral  restraints,  which  hinder 
us  from  acquiring  what  we  thus  covet.  The  importance,  and  obli- 
gation, of  these  restraints,  CTadually  fade  from  before  the  eye.  The 
man,  engaged  only  in  the  business  of  obtaining  the  intended  gra^ 
fication,  naturally  finds  little  leisure,  or  inclipatipn^  to  dwell  upon 
the  danger,  shame  or  sin,  of  seizing  on  Us  neighbour's  posses- 
sions. Thus  he  becomes  unhaopily  prepared  to  put  fmlh  a  bold 
and  rash  hand,  and  to  pluck  tne  tempting  enjoyment,  in  spite  of 
the  awful  prohibitions  of  nis  Makes.  He,  who  does  not  covet,  will 
never  steal.  He,  who  indulges  covetousness,  will  find  himself  in 
danger,  wherever  there  is  a  temptation. 

In  examinine  this  precept,  it  will  be  my  principal  design  to 
consider  the  subject  of  PraM. 

That  Fraud  is  implicitly  forbidden  in  this  Precept  will  not,  I 
suppose,  be  (questioned.  The  Catechism  of  the  Westminster  As^ 
senily  of  Divines  explains  the  Command  in  this  manner.  <<  It  re- 
quires," mj  they,  "  the"  lawful  procuring,  and  furthering,  .the 
wealth  and  outward  estate  of  ourselves,  andothers ;"  and  '^  forbids 
whatsoever  doth,  or  may,  unjustly  hinder  our  own,  or  our  neigh* 
Vour's  wealth,  or  outward  estate.'' 


456  IDTIHMW  pSESLCHaL 

In  the  Catechism  of  King  Edward  it  is  thus  explained.  '<  It 
commandeth  us  to  beguile  no  man ;  to  occupy  QC^jmbwfiil  wares; 
to  en?y  no  man  Us  wealth;  and  to  think  nothtng  profitable,  that 
either  is  not  just,  or  differeth  from  right  and  honesty •''  In  this 
manner  we  are  abundantly  warranted  to  understand  it  by  our  Sa- 
viour's Conunentary  on  the  other  Commands,  in  his  sermon  on  the 
Mount.  Accordinglyi  it  has  been  generally  understood  in  the 
same  comprehensive  manner  by  divines.  To  this  inteipretation, 
the  utufe  of  the  subject  gives  the  fullest  warrant.  Jill  thaiy  whkk 
it  sinful  m  ihtft^  is  the  taking  of  our  neighbour's  property j  wiihoid 
his  knowledge  or .  consent^  and  converting  it  to  our  onm  use.  In 
every  fraud  we  do  exactly  the  same  thing,  althofigh  in  a  different 
manner.  Every  fraud,  therefore,  whatever  be  the  form  in  which 
it  is  practised,  partakes  of  the  very  same  sinful  nature,  which  is 
found  in  theft. 

Fraud  is  in  aU  iqitances  a  violation  of  what  is  commonly  calUi. 
Honesty,  or  ComnndiUive  Justice.  Honesty,  in  the  Scriptural  senm^ 
is  a  disposition  to  rentier ,  or  the  actual  rendering  of  an  equivedud 
for  what  we  receive,  in  our  dealings  with  others.  This  equivalent 
may  consist  either  of  property,  or  ol  services  ;  Honesty  being  equal- 
ly concerned  with  both.  At  the  same  time,  there  is  such  a  thinj^ 
as  defrauJSnng  ont?s  self.  '<  Whatsoever  doth,  or  may  unjust^ 
hinder  our  own  outward  estate,''  or,  in  other  words,  that  eon^kri, 
and  benefit,  which  we  might  derive  from  our  property^  or  from  owr 
opportunities  of  acquiring  it,  is  of  this  nature  j  ami- is  aceordsnghf 
forbidden  by  this  Commandment. 

With  these  introductory  observations,  I  shall  now  proceed  to 
consider  the  prohibition  in  the  Text,  under  the  following  heads : 

I.  The  Fraudulent  Conduct,  which  respects  Ourstlvesj  and  awt 
Families;  and, 

II.  TTuxt,  which  respects  others. 

I.  /  shall  mention  several  kinds  of  fraudulent  conduct,  wkidi 
most  immediately  respects  ourselves,  and  our  families. 

All  the  members  of  a  Family  have  a  common  interest ;  and  are 
so  intimately  united  in  every  domestic  concern,  that,  if  one  mem- 
ber suffer^  all  the  members  suffer  with  it ;  or  if  one  member  be  Aon- 
oured,  all  the  members  rejoice  with  it.  Whatever  affects  the  head 
must  affect  the  whole  body.  If  a  man  defraud  himself,  either  cE- 
rectly,  or  indirecdy,  he  cannot  fail,  therefore,  of  defrauding  his 
family.  For  this  reason,  I  have  thought  it  proper  to  consider  the 
Family  of  a  man,  as  united  with  himself  in  this  part  of  my  Sub- 
ject.    The 

1.  Specimen  of  fVaud,  which  I  shall  mention  under  this  head,  is 
Idleness. 

That  Idleness  hinders  our  own  wealth,  or  outward  estate,  will 
BOt  be  questioned.  I  went  by  the  field  of  the  slothful,  says  Sobh 
mon,  and  by  the  vineyard  of  the  man  void  of  understandings  and 
lo  !  it  was  all  grown  over  with  thorns  ;  and  nettles  had  covert  th$ 


SER.  CUn.]  PROMQALITT.  437 

fac'  ihtTiofi  and  tht  itont-viall  thtreofwai  broken  down.  TTien  I 
»aiD  and  contidtnd  it  wtll.  I  looked  upon  it,  and  received  initruc- 
lion.  Ytt  a  Utile  ileep,  a  little  slumber,  a  Uttte  folding  of  the  kandi 
to  ileep.  So  mIuiU  thy  poverty  come  as  one  that  travelleth,  and  th/ 
want  as  an  armed  man. 

Idleness,  at  the  same  time,  is  obviously  a  fraud.  The  lazy 
Dan  cheats  himsell'  of  good,  which  God  hath  eiven  to  him ;  of  en- 
joymenls,  put  into  his  hands  by  the  bounty  ofhis  Creator.  These 
blessings  he  barters  for  the  love  of  case.  The  price,  which  he 
pays,  is  very  great :  that,  which  he  gets  in  return,  is  drost  and 

Jft«  Mischiefs  of  Idltntss  are  numerous,  and  important. 

in  the  first  place.     Idleness  is  a  sinful  waste  of  our  Time. 

Our  time  is  a  possession,  of  inestimable  value.  The  best  em- 
ployment of  it,  that  is,  such  an  employment  of  it  as  the  Scriptures 
xei]nire,  involves  all,  which  is  meant  by  our  doiy.  The  loss,  or 
iTBBte,  of  it,  is,  therefore,  no  other  than  the  loss  or  omission  of  all 
our  duty ;  the  frustration  of  the  purpose  for  which  we  were  cre- 
ated. 

Secondly.  Idleness  is  a  sinful  waste  of  our  Talents. 

By  the^e  I  mean  all  ihe  powers  of  body  and  mind ;  and  the 
means,  which  God  has  furnished  us  in  his  Providence,  of  employ- 
ing ihem  for  valuable  ends.  Our  Time  and  Talents,  united,  con- 
stitute our  whole  capacity  of  being  useful;  our  worth ;  our  all. 
The  idle  man  wastes  them  both ;  wraps  them  up  in  a  napkin,  and 
buries  them  in  ihe  earth.  In  ihir  manner  he  robs  God  of  the  end 
for  which  he  was  made  ;  and  becomes  a  burden  upon  the  shoul- 
ders of  his  fellow-men.  He  eats  what  others  provide :  and,  while 
they  are  industriously  engaged  in  labour,  his  business  is  only  to 
devour.  Thus  he  is  carried  by  mankind,  as  a  load,  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave  ;  is  despised,  loathed,  and  eiecrated,  while  he 
lives  ;  and,  when  ho  dies,  is  bitried,  like  the  carcass  of  an  animal, 
to  fulfil  the  demands  of  decency,  and  merely  to  get  rid  of  a  nui- 
sance. 

In  the  mean  time,  his  drowsiness  clothes  himself  and  his  familv 
nith  rags;  prevents  them  from  the  enjoyments,  common  to  all 
around  them;  disappoints,  without  a  reason  perceivable  by  them, 
all  ihcir  iust  expectations ;  and,  as  was  formerly  observed  con- 
cerning tne  drunkenness  of  a  Parent,  sinks  ihem  below  the  com- 
mon level  of  mankind.  Want  in  every  form,  and  all  the  miseries 
of  want,  arrest  them  daily,  and  through  life.  Their  food  is  poor 
and  scanty.  Their  clothes  are  rags.  They  arc  pinched  with 
cold,  through  the  destitution  of  fuel ;  and  deprived  of  refreshing 
sleep,  because  their  bed  is  the  earth,  and  because  their  dwelling, 
a  mere  sieve,  admits  without  obstruction  snow  and  rain,  the  frost 
and  the  storm.  Thus,  while  they  see  almost  all  others  around 
them  possessed  in  abundance,  not  of  (he  necessaries  only,  but  of 
all  the  comforts,  and  most  of  the  conveniences,  of  life ;  they  them- 


438  IDLENESS.  [SJEKUCXXSL 

selves  are  forced.to  look  on,  and  thirst,  anid  pine,  for  the  tempting 
enjoyments :  while,  like  Tantalus^  they  are  uniHdden  by  an  iroii- 
handed  necessity  to  taste  the  ^ood. 

At  the  same  time,  the  man  is  forced  to  feel,  while  his  family 
also  are  compelled  by  him  to  feel,  that  he,  their  husband,  and 
their  father,  is  the  subject  of  supreme  folly,  and  insignificance, 
and  of  gross,  unremitted,  and  hopeless  sin ;  of  folly,  which  is 
causeless ;  insignificance,  voluntarily  assumed ;  sin,  unnecessary 
and  wanton ;  and  that  he  is  an  object  of  general  and  extre.me  con- 
tempt. The  contempt,  directed  immediately  to  him,  is  of  course 
extended  to  his  family,  also ;  and  they  are  compelled,  at  their 
first  entrance  into  the  world,  to  encounter  the  eye  of  scorn,  and 
the  tongue  of  derision.  All  these  evils  are  sustained,  also,  only 
that  the  man  may  lead  the  life  of  a  sluggard,  be  assimilated  to  the 
sloth  in  his  character,  and  rival  the  swme  in  his  £aiyourite  mode  of 
life,  and  his  most  coveted  enjoyments. 

Thirdly.  Idleness  exposes  a  man  to  many  temptations^  andmanjf 
sins. 

A  lazy  man  is,  of  course,  without  any  useful  engagement :  hb 
mind  is  therefore  vacant,  and  ready  for  the  admission  of  any  sin, 
which  seeks  admission.  To  such  a  man  temptations  may  be  said 
to  be  always  welcome.  They  are  guests,  lor  which  he  is  regu- 
larly prepared :  and  he  has  neither  company  nor  business,  to 
hinder  him  fi*om  yielding  to  them  whatever  attention,  or  entertain- 
ment, they  may  demand.  The  proverbial  adage,  that  ^  Satan 
will  employ  him,  who  does  not  nnd  employment  for  himself,'' 
is  founded  in  experience,  and  good  sense.  The  mind,  even  of 
the  idlest  man,  will  be  busy  ;  and  the  mind,  which  is  not  busied 
in  its  duty,  will  be  busied  in  sin.  On  such  a  mind  every  temp- 
tation is  secure  of  a  powerful  influence ;  entices  without  oppo- 
sition ;  and  conquers  without  even  a  struggle,  or  a  sigh.  Hence 
we  find  such  a  man  devoted,  not  only  to  the  general  sin  of  idle- 
ness, but  to  all  the  other  sins  which  he  can  conveniently  practise. 

The  Slitggard^  says  Solomon,  t^  wiser  in  his  own  conceit^  than 
seven  men,  that  can  render  a  reason.  From  this  miserable  vanity, 
of  which  their  deplorable  mismanagement  of  their  own  a&irs 
ought  to  cure  them  at  a  glance,  it  arises  that  Sluggards  so  com- 
monly become  the  professed  counsellors  of  mankind.  Hence  it 
arises,  that  so  many  of  them  are  politicians j  pettifoggers j  and  t €pa- 
ratical  preachers.  They  know  nothing,  it  is  true,  except  what  an 
abecedarian  knows,  of  either  Divinity,  Law,  or  Govemtneni.  Still 
they  feel,  and  declare,  themselves  to  be  abundantly  able  to  teach 
the  way  to  Heaven,  which  they  have  never  learned ;  and  to  ex- 
plain Laws,  which  they  never  studied.  The  afiairs  of  a  Nation, 
to  numerous,  so  complicated,  and  so  extensive,  as  to  be  compre- 
hended only  bv  minas  peculiarly  capacious,  and  to  demand  the 
laborious  study  of  a  life,  these  men  understand  instinctively; 
without  inquiry,  information,  or  thought.     Their  own  a&irs*  it 


SEH.  CIXB.]  PRODIQALITT.  439 

is  true,  they  manage  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  conduct  them  only 
to  ruin ;  yet  they  feel  perfectly  competent  to  manage  the  af- 
fairs of  a  Nation  with  pre-eminent  skill,  and  certain  success* 
Every  thing  in  the  concerns  of  the  public,  if  you  will  believe 
them,  goes  wron^ ;  and  will  never  be  set  right,  if  jjpa  will  be- 
lieve them  a  litde  further,  by  any  body  but  themaores.  These 
men  are  smoke  to  the  eyes^  and  vinegar  to  the  teeth,  of  persons 
possessing  real  understanding.  To  the  public  they  are  mere 
nuisances,  living  on  the  earnings  of  others ;  fomentors  of  dis- 
content ;  active  agents  in  riots  and  broils ;  incendiaries,  who  con- 
sume the  peace  and  comfort  of  all  around  them,  and  who  well  de- 
serve to  be  the  by-word  and  the  hissings  of  every  upright  and 
benevolent  citizen.  Such  were  the  men,  whom  the  Jews  of  7%€f- 
salonica  gathered  into  a  company  against  Paul  /  who  set  all  the 
City  in  an  uproar  ;  and  attemptea  to  destroy  the  Aposde,  and  his 
Religion,  by  the  violence  of  a  mob.  They  were  ayopuu ;  trans- 
hiiea  lewd  fellows  of  the  baser  sort }  literally,  idle,  lounging  Aotm/- 
trs  of  market  places. 

It  ought  particularly  to  be  remembered,  thdii  persons  of  this  diar^ 
acter  rarely  become  converts  to  Christianity.  Among  all  those, 
who,  within  my  knowledge,  have  appeared  to  become  sincerely 
penitent  and  reformed,  f  recollect  only  a  single  lazy  man :  and 
this  man  became  industrious  from  the  moment  of  his  apparent,  and, 
I  doubt  not,  real  conversion.  The  sinful  prostitution  of  his  time 
and  talents  by  idleness,  and  his  ready  admission  of  temptations  to 
his  heart,  fix  the  idler  in  a  regular  hostility  against  all  the  promis- 
es, and  threatenings,  of  Rehgion :  while  his  self-conceit  makes 
him  too  wise,  willingly  to  receive  wisdoiA  even  from  God.  Few 
cases  in  human  life  are,  in  this  respect,  more  desperate,  than  that 
of  the  Idler.  A  Preacher,  destined  to  address  an  assembly  of 
such  men,  might,  with  nearly  the  same  hope  of  success,  exchange 
his  Desk  for  the  Church- Yard ;  and  waste  his  eloquence  upon 
the  tenants  of  the  grave. 

In  the  mean  time,  ever?  lazy  man  ought  steadily  to  remember, 
that  his  very  subsistence  is  founded  on  Fraud.  If  amf  man  will 
not  work,  saith  the  Proprietor  of  all  things,  neither  let  Asm  eat.  For 
him  to  eat  is  to  rob ;  to  rob  his  Maker  orAu  property,  and  his  fel- 
low-men of  theirs. 

2.  Prodigally  is  another  Fraud,  of  the  same  general  nature. 
There  are  various  modes  of  Prodigality,  rroperty  may  be 
wasted  by  negligence ;  by  foolish  bargains ;  by  tne  injudicious 
management  of  business ;  by  bold  adventures,  and  by  direct  m>- 
fusion.  The  guilt,  in  the  difl(erent  cases,  may  vary  somewhat.  The 
general  nature  of  the  conduct,  its  folly,  and  its  end,  are  substan- 
tially the  same.  There  will,  therefore,  be  no  necessity  of  distin- 
guishing it,  here,  with  any  particular  attention. 

The  effects  of  Prodigality  are,  in  many  respects,  exacdy  the 
same  with  those  of  Idleness.    By  both  of  these  vices  property  is 


g^  IDLENBSS.  PODL  CXIBL 

•flfecttially  wasted.  The  nc^Heent  waster  of  property  is  influenc- 
ed by  the  same  motives,  which  govern  the  Idler ;  and  shuns  the 
labour  of  preserving  it,  as  the  Idler  the  labour  of  acqtdrmg  it,  from 
the  mere  love  of  ease.  The  Spendthrift  sauanders  it,  from 
a  foolish  fondness  for  the  several  enjoyments,  or  which  he  makes 
it  the  price ;  from  the  love  of  show ;  the  indulgence  of  whim; 
and  the  relish  for  luxurious  and  voluptuous  gratification.  The 
objects  of  his  expense  are,  either  in  their  degree,  or  their  kind, 
always  unnecessary  to  his  true  interest,  ana  his  real  comfort. 
Passions,  which  oueht  not  to  be  indulged ;  whims,  which  ou^ 
not  to  exist,  much  less  to  be  cherishea ;  govern  his  mind  with 
despotic  sway;  and  make  him  their  absolute  and  miserabk 
slave.  Unsatisfied  with  what  he  is,  and  what  he  has,  he  pines 
incessantly,  with  a  sickly  taste  for  some  new  gratificati<Hi ;  ibr 
objects,  in  which  he  supposes  happiness  to  lie,  and  in  which  he 
expects  to  satisfy  a  relisn,  too  restless,  craving,  and  capricious, 
ever  to  be  satisfied.  His  appetite  is  canine ;  not  merely  eatinr 
and  drinking,  but  devouring ;  and,  although  daily  cranmiea,  is  stiU 
hungry. 

\^nity  and  pride  are  also  perpetual  prompters  to  the  Prodigal; 
vanity,  which  cries  with  an  unceasing  voice,  "  Give,  give  /**  jnide, 
whicn  never  saith,  ^^  It  is  enough.^^    Goaded  by  these  passions, 
he  struggles  with  unceasing  anxiety  to  outrun  those  arouad  him 
in  the  splendour  of  dress,  equipage,  houses,  gardens,  and  other 
objects  of  expense.     The  contest  of  one  with  many  is  almost  ne> 
cessarily  unequal.    It  is  scarcely  possible,  that  some  of  his  com- 
petitors should  not  excel  him  in  one  thing,  and  some  in  another; 
or  that,  whenever  he  is  excelled,  he  should  not  be  unhappy.    In 
its  nature,  the  strife  is  unwise,  and  fruitless ;  because  neither  the 
spirit,  nor  the  efforts,  of  rivalry,  ever  made  any  man  happy.    In 
its  progress,  it  necessarily  disappoints  all  his  eager  wishes,  and 
fond  hopes.     When  he  succeeds,  the  expected  enjoyment  expires 
in  the  very  moment  of  success  :  when  he  fails,  the  disappointment 
makes  him  miserable.     With  all  this,  he  is  prepanng  himself 
insensibly  for  more  accumulated  misery.     No   Prodie;al  ever 
looks  into  his  affairs  ;  ^  nor  conjectures  the  extent  ot    Ins  ex* 
penses.     Of  course,  no  Prodigal  ever  perceives  the  rapidity  with 
which  his  property  declines.     To  men  of  this  sort  ruin  is  saways 
nearer,  than  tney  mistrust ;  and  hastens  with  a  celerity,  of  n^ch 
they  never  dreamed.    While  the  means  of  expense  are  supposed 
to  last,  the  whole  host  of  sharpers  fasten  on  him  as  their  prey. 
Xhe  jockey  cheats  him  in  a  oargain.     The  swindler  borrows, 
and  runs  away  with  his  money.     The  usurer  furnishes  him  with 
loans,  at  an  enormous  interest.    Heedless  of  expense,  and  greedy 
of  the  enjoyments  which  it  procures,  every  manufacturer  of  frip- 
pery, every  owner  of  a  toy-shop  selects  him  as  his  own  best  cus- 
tomer; and  exchanges  the  merchandize  of  Vanity-fair  for 
money  and  his  lan^*. 


SOL  cm.]  nomajkvm  441 

Such  a  career  Providence  never  suffers  to  last  long.  Unsus- 
pected hj  himself,  but  foreseen  by  all  around  him,  Ruia,  hastening 
with  rapid  steps,  knocks  at  his  door  in  an  evil  hour.  The  host 
of  wretches,  who  pamper  themselves  on  his  extravagance  while 
they  secretly  laugh  at  his  folly,  startled  at  the  sound,  are  out 
of  sight  in  a  moment.  They  have,  indeed,  rioted  at  Us  ex- 
pense ;  and  might  be  expected  to  be  grateful  for  what  he  has 
E'ven.  But  gratitude  is  rarely  createa  by  profiasion:  and  the 
sarts  of  such  men  were  never  susceptible  of  eratitooe.  They 
have  feasted  on  enjoyments j  which  he  fomishea :  but  they  came 
only  to  feast ;  not  to  sympathize.  Thevhave  encouraged  his  ex- 
pense; praised  his  generosity ;  admired  his  taste;  and  professed 
a  deep  interest  in  his  happiness.  But  their  whole  business  termi- 
nated in  enjoying,  praising,  admiring,  and  professing.  They  are 
harpies,  who  gathered  around  him,  to  revel  on  his  profusion ;  and 

Scophants,  wno  flattered  him,  that  they  mi^ht  be  admitted  to 
e  revel.  For  him,  for  any  other  human  being,  they  never  ex- 
ercised a  generous  thought ;  a  sympathising  feeling ;  an  honest 
Good-will.  The  house  of  suffering  has  no  charms  for  thtm.  They 
came  only  to  get ;  and,  when  they  can  get  no  longer,  they  come 
no  more. 

When  they  have  taken  their  flight ;  instead  of  being  grateful  to 
him  for  the  enjoyments,  on  which  they  have  io  long,  and  so  riot- 
ously feasted  at  his  expense,  they  are  among  the  first,  most  inces- 
sant, and  most  clamorous,  of  those,  who  load  him  with  censure. 
Instead  of  pitying  his  calamities;  calamities,  into  which  they 
have  persuaded,  urged,  and  flattered  him ;  they  make  both  him. 
and  them,  the  butt  of  ridicule ;  a  mark,  for  scorn  to  shoot  at ;  and 
persuade  the  world  to  forget,  that  they  have  been  eminently 
the  causes  of  his  destruction,  by  vociferating  their  contempt  of 
Us  folly. 

In  (he  mean  time,  his  door  is  thronged  by  a  mob  of  duns,  and  a 
host  of  bailiffs.  His  houses  and  lands  pass  away  to  the  sharpers, 
who  have  been  long  fattening  upon  his  spoils.  His  equipage,  his 
furniture,  even  the  venr  bed  on  which  he  nas  slept,  is  struck  off  to 
the  highest  bidder.  The  sprightly  sound  of  the  viol,  and  the  harp- 
sichord, is  succeeded  by  the  rude  hammer  of  the  Auctioneer. 
Broken  in  fortune,  and  broken  in  heart,  the  miserable  squanderer, 
and  his  miserable  family,  quit  their  luxurious  mansion,  and  she)-  , 
ter  themselves  in  a  solitary  novel.  > 

TTiis  wretched  career  is  rendered  more  sw^ulj  and  mare  wnhappm^ 
hy  the  avarice^  which  regularly  haunte  the  prodigal*  Addison^  m 
a  beautiful  allegory,  informs  us,  that  Luxury  and  Avarice  were  v 
formerly  at  war ;  that,  after  various  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  they 
agreed,  at  length,  to  a  permanent  peace ;  on  the  condition,  that 
Luxuiy  should  dismiss  rlenty  from  nis  service,  and  Avarice,  Pov- 
erty ;  their  respective  Ministers  of  State ;  and  that  Avarice  should 
become   the  Minister  of  Luxury,  and  Luxury  of  Avarice,  bf 

Vol.  III.  66 


tnnii.  Since  that  period,  he  infcMrms  us,  Loxurj  miiusten  to 
Avarice,  and  Avarice  to  Luxury.  Every  prodigal  ia,  in  in- 
lantion  at  least,  a  luxurious  man.  Every  prodigal,  almost,  ii 
avaricious*  He  {;raflps  at  money  eaeerly,  that  he  may  find  the 
means  of  continuing  nis  darling  protusion ;  and  covets  with  is 
craving  an  appetite,  that  he  may  spend,  as  the  miser,  that  he 
may  board.  JLike  the  miserable  sufferers,  described  by  Isaiah, 
he  wilt  not  ipart  tven  hi$  own  iroUur ;  but  will  inaick  on  Ik 
rigki  handf  mnd  itiU  be  kmngry  ;  and  devimr  on  the  lefi^  emd  wiB 
noi  U  eoiitfied. 

EfmUy  evpoeei  is  he  to  the  sin  (^  Proud;  as  ptfaeUrmitd  vpon  tie 
fMom^men.  Peculiarly  is  he  of  the  number  of  tnose  wiekedj  wke 
borrow  emd  nooerpoj/*  No  man  is  more  lavish  of  promiaes,  note% 
and  bonds ;  and  no  man  more  stinted  in  discharging  his  hooeiC 
debts*  The  farmer,  mechanic,  and  manufocturer,  are  pecoharlj 
the  .objects  of  his  fraud*  The  debts,  which  he  pays  at  all,  aie 
those,  which  he  is  pleased  to  style  debts  of  honour;  the  debti 
of  luxury ;  debts,  contracted  to  furnish  the  means  of  splenchmr 
and  voluptuousness.  The  necessaries  of  life  are  objects,  loo 
humble  to  be  ranked  in  the  list  of  his  enjoyments.  iDsijniificaiit 
in  themselves,  that  is,  as  he  estimates  them,  they  are  not  ielt  to  be 
deserving  of  his  attention.  Those,  who  furnish  them,  also,  are 
too  modest,  and  too  quiet,  to  compel  his  regard*  Those,  who 
gratify  the  demands  of  show  and  pleasure,  are,  in  hb  view,  pe^ 
pons  of  higher  consecj^uence ;  and  are  usually  too  clamorous,  ami 
too  persevering,  in  their  demands,  to  suffer  them  to  be  turned  away 
hgr  a  mere  succession  of  empty  promises*  Their  claims  are  of 
course  first  satisfied*  Not  the  nch,  but  thepoor^  and  the  kemgrg^ 
are  here  eent  oway  emptMm 

The  eome  neeeesitj/j  wMeh  drives  him  to  promiee^breakieut^  iarges 
him  also  into  its  twin  vice  oflyin^.  He  wants  money  daily ;  and 
as  the  oEdinary  means  of  obtaimng  it  fiul,  he  resorts  to  eiorf  art, 
and  fetch,  and  fialsehood,  to  supply  his  pressing  necessities*  A 
true  account  of  his  circumstances,  and  designs,  would  prevent 
every  supply*  To  falsehood  therefore,  and  to  trick,  ht  betaka 
himself,  as  the  most  obvious  means  of  relieving  his  immediate 
wants*  Ia  this  manner  he  becomes,  within  a  moderate  period,  a 
common  cheat,  and  a  common  liar* 

Mor  is  the  prodigal  much' less  m  danger ^rom  drunkenness.  TIm 
peculiar  distress,  which  attends  the  consciousness  of  embarrassed 
H^birs,  made  up  of  the  strong  pressure  of  wants,  without  the  meani 
of  relieving  them,  a  continual  apnrehension  of  approaching  niii^ 
muted  with  an  insunnountable  reluctance  to  make  any  efforts  Uh 
yfude  preventing  it,  edged,  and  pointed,  by  a  succession  of  dons, 
mortified  pride,  vanishing  pleasures,  and  clamorous  appetites  $  this 
pecnliav  oistreiM  is  a  powerful  and  firequent  cause  of  habitual  in- 
mticatien*  The  unhappv  being,  who  is  the  subject  of  such  db- 
Ipess,  instiactively  hunts,  but  hunts  in  vain*  for  relief,  and  even  iac 


I 

\ 


ooBsolatioii.  Despair  meets  Urn  at  everjr  corner*'  Ofteta,  Ike 
only  alleviation,  which  presents  itself  to'Ius  aflKded  ere,  ia  the 
terrible  resort  to  the  transient  stupdhction  of  stroa|;.drinK.  lUi 
the  forlorn  wretch,  with  a  varied  indeed,  but  alwajrs  dowofwaid^ 
course,  n^es  his  situation  worse  and  worse ;  and  borries  himsell 
to  final  rtnn  by  the  very  means,  on  which  he  ftistens  for  relief. 

M^  is  tke  prodigal  in  imaU  damger  of  becoming  a  Smeidt*  He 
has  lived,  for  a  len^  of  time,  in  the  gratification  of  Pridej  the 
enjoyment  of  conscious  superiority,  and  an  uninterrupted  course 
oT  voluptuous  indulgence.  When  the  dreams  of  greatness  are 
over ;  and  the  riot  of  pleasure  has  ceased ;  the  chuige*  to  waol 
and  degradation  is  often  too  sudden,  and  almost  always  too  greaf^ 
to  be  borne  with  equanimity.  In  the  eariier  moments  of  desperft» 
lion,  it  is  not  uncommon  to  see  the  prodigal  betake  himseli^  for  re^ 
fofe  from  the  load  of  humiliation  and  despair,  to  poison,  the  pift« 
tei,  or  the  halter.  Ammig  thoitj  wko  bieom$  ndciois  in  At  ponii^ 
tion  of  (Aetr  retuon,  a  more  numeroui  list  if  no  whore  foundj  them 
lAel,  wUeh  ie  composed  of  ruined  prodinU.  Few  men  have'  siIm 
ficient  fortitude  to  sustain,  without  uirinking,  the  ezcruciadng' 
evils,  to  which  persons  of  this  description  rerularly  hurry  themn 
lelves :  excruciating,  I  mean,  te  fiicA  hmti.  We  do  indeed  m^et, 
at  times,  beinss,  wfo,  like  disturbed  ghosts,  haunt  plaoes  of>  nnb^ 
lie  resort ;  ana  labour  to  ke^  in  the  remembrance  of  mankina  the 
shadows,  shreds,  and  tatters,  of  their  former  eayetv  and  splendeuB^ 
end  serve,  as  way-marks,  to  warn  the  traveOer  of  his  approeifth  Xat 
a  quamire,  or  a  precipice.  But  ftr  more  commonly  they  ehrink 
fiom  tne  public  eye,  and  fii^om  the  neglect,  and'  cont^pt,  wUdii 
they  are  conacious  of  havine  merited ;  and,  not  unfireqMatly,'hide 
themselves  for  ever  from  tne  sight  by  huryiog  into  the  fiituie: 
world* 

The  prodigal  is,  also,  dreudfldh  exfoeed  to  hardnue  ofheaM 
ShooM  he  continue  to  live^  should  he  oeoome  neither  a  seicidB|^ 
por  a  drunkard ;  still  the  love  of  expense  and  pleasure,  nown  bw 
indulgence  into  an  obstinate  htbit^  the  long-continued  forgetful- 
ness  of  God,  the  total  negligence  of  religion  and  all  its  duties,  the 
entire  absorption  in  the  present,  a»d  the  absolute  disregard  4f  the 
fiiture,  universally  attenoant  on  this  eiode  of  life^  naturally  rendbr 
the  hcsart  callous  to  every  divine  impressioo.  A  man,'  whe  thus 
e^riy  fomts  God,  cmf^X  certainly  to  expect,  that  God  will  fixw 
gel  him*  For,  no  man  says  to  the  Ahnignty  nmre  firequentlv,  oe 
moie  uniformly.  Depart  from  me^far  Iduim  fiel  the  kntomUJ^o  ^ 
ikf  mm/e.  From  the  house  of  God,  firom  the  Scriptures,  nay,'eveii 
from  prayer,  the  last  hope  of  miserable- many 'he  volenlanly  cutr 
hkaself  o£  What  prospects  must  he  then  fciaconceroing  his  to 
toiPeberogi 

The  Family  of  the  ProcigiA  share  aecessarilT  in  moat  of  bis  ea^^ 
lamilies,  aad  ahnost  necessarily  in  many  of  ma  sins.  A  gieaft' 
pert  of  the  same  tenytatikmi  atiest  thifli»  of  course*    A  fpmk^ 


part  of  the  wis  are  provided  for  theoiy  and  reguhily  senred  up. 
Should  thejr  escape  from  moral  ruin,  the  event  would  be  litue 
abort  of  a  miracle,  unless  it  should  be  accomplished  by  an  early, 
and  timely,  fiulure  of  the  means  of  sin.  The  sufierings,  to  which 
they  are  exposed,  are  numberless.  The  prodigal,  mscinated  hj 
show  and  pleasure,  cannot  attend  to  the  education  of  hi^  children. 
He  cannot  spare  from  his  own  enjoyments,  m  his  view  indispensa- 
ble, the  means  of  education  abroad ;  particularly  an  educatJoo, 
at  all  suited  to  their  original  circumstances,  we  expectations 
which  he  has  forced  them  to  form,  and  the  wishes  which  they  have 
reasonably,  as  well  as  naturally,  cherished.  Religious  instruct 
tion,  admonition,  and  reproof;  a  prodigal  never  can  give.  He, 
who  does  not  pray  for  himself,  cannot  be  expected  to  pray  for  his 
&mily.  The  parent,  who  does  not  fiiequent  the  house  of  God, 
will  soon  see  it  forsaken  by  his  children.  Thus  the  education  of 
his  children  will  be  deserted  by  the  prodigal.  The  invaluabk 
season  of  childhood  and  youth  will  be  lost,  and  those  early  im- 
pressions, both  economical  and  relisious,  those  important  bbits, 
OD  which  the  eood  of  this  life,  and  of  the  life  to  come,  is  in  a  great 
measure  founded,  are  never  establishei  in  tjieir  minds. 

To  their  comfcMlable  setdement,  whatever  may  be  his  wishes, 
he  has  voluntarily  lost  the  power  to  contribute.  Before  the  pe* 
riod  arrives,  at  which  this  imp(»rtant  object  is  to  be  accomplished, 
his  wife,  if  she  has  not  died  of  a  broken  heart,  and  her  cnildre% 
usually  see  him  a  benar ;  and  follow  him  to  the  hovel,  which  hss 
become  his  onlv  shelter*  Hence,  if  they  survive  the  ruin  of  their 
hopes,  the  chiUroi  are  soon  turned  into  the  world,  to  make  their 
way  throodi  all  the  thorns  and  briers,  which  regukrly  embarrssi 
die  path  of  persons  in  such  a  situation.  The  Hand,  which  feedi 
the  young  ravens,  when  they  cry,  does,  indeed,  usually  feed  ikem* 
Earthly  nriends,  at  times  also,  they  may  find;  and  sometimes 
may  be  regarded  by  strangers  mih  compassion  and  tenderness, 
which  they  never  experienced  firom  him,  who  gave  them  birth* 

REMARKS* 

1*  By  these  eoniideraiitm^f  Parenii  an  iaugki  the  mcatcuUtU 
impariance  t^eAicating  their  children  to  Industry  emd  Economy. 

Kevolve  lor  a  moment  the  miserable  character,  drcumstancei^ 
and  end,  of  those,  who  have  been  the  subjects  of  this  discourse* 
Who  would  be  willmg,  who  wodd  not  shudder  at  the  thought,  that 
ioch  would  be  the  character,  such  the  circumstances,  and  such 
die  end,  of  his  own  children  f  How  shall  this  dreadful  catastrophe 
be  prevented  1  Under  God,  only  by  a  fruthful  education  erf"  cnil- 
dfeo  to  Industry  and  Economy;  by  habituation  to  some  useful, 
active  business ;  or  some  diligent,  sedentary  employment ;  hj 
thorough  instructions,  and  a  persuasive  example.  These  are  the 
fountains  of  sustenance  to  human  life.  A  fortune,  bequeathed  to 
children,  or.  provided  for  them  at  an  earlier  period,  instead  of  be- 


Sm.  CXZIL]  FBODIOAUTT.  4^ 

ing  a  secure  provision  for  their  future  wants,  is  commonly  a  mere 
incitement  to  ruin;  a  bounty,  given  to  idleness;  a  watchword  to 
begin  the  career  of  confusion. 

The  Jews  are  said,  during  some  periods,  at  least,  of  theur  ezbt- 
ence  as  a  people,  to  have  educatea  their  children,  universally,  in 
active  business ;  and  to  have  adopted,  proverbially,  this  aphorism, 
that  Ae,  who  does  not  bring  vp  his  child  to  useful  industry y  brings 
kirn  up  to  be  a  beggary  and  a  nuisance.    It  is  to  be  fervendy  wished, 
that  all  Christian  Parents  would  adopt  the  same  maxim,  and  thus 
prepare  their  children  to  become  blessings  both  to  themselves  and 
mankind.    It  has  been  repeatedly  observed  in  these  discourses, 
that  Industry  and  Economy  are  not  natural  to  man,  and  can  only 
be  established  by  habituation.    These  habits  must  both  be  begun 
in  the  morning  of  life ;  or  there  is  danger,  that  they  will  never  be 
begun  successfully.    As  no  man,  consistently  with  his  plain  duty, 
can  be  excused  from  being  industrious  and  economical,  himself; 
80  no  man  can  be  justified  km:  a  moment,  who  does  not  effecUiaUy 
communicate  both  Industry  and  Economy  to  his  children.    He, 
who,  at  the  first,  made  labour  the  employment  of  mankind ;  and 
^  who  afterwards  commanded  to  gather  up  the  firagments,  that  no- 
"  thing  might  be  lost;  will  admit  no  excuse  for  the  neglect  of  these 
duties,  whether  they  respect  ourselves,  or  our  offipring.    In  this 
•  subject,  Parents  and  children  of  both  sexes  are  eoually  concern- 
ed.   Both  parents  are  bound  to  teach  their  chiloren;  and  their 
children,  of^both  sexes,  are  bound  to  learn,  to  be  industrious,  and 
to  be  economical ;  to  fill  up  their  time  with  useful  employments ; 
to  methodize  it,  that  it  may  be  thus  filled  up ;  and  to  feel,  that  the 
loss  of  time,  the  neglect  of  talents,  and  the  waMe  of  property,  are 
all  serious  violations  of  their  duty  to  God*    The  parents  are  bound 
to  inspire,  and  the  children  to  imbibe,  a  CQptaBipt,  an  abhorrence, 
fpr  that  silly,  worthless  fnvolity,  to  idua  so  manjr  children,  of 
fitshionable  parents  especially,  are  trained ;  that  smful  waste  of 
the  golden  hours  of  life ;  that  sickly  devotion  to  amusement ;  that 
shameful,  pitiable  dependence  on  trifling,  to  help  them  along,  even 
tolerably,  through  their  present,  tedious,  dragging  existence.   Few 
Dersons  are  more  to  be  pitied,  as  certainly  lew  are  more  to  be 
olamed,  than  those,  who  find  their  enjoyment  only  in  diversions; 
and  clin^  to  a  ride,  a  dance,  a  visit,  a  play,  or  a  novel,  to  keep  them 
finom  sinking  into  gloom  and  desponaence.    Industrious  persons, 
who  spend  Uieir  time  in  useful  pursuits,  are  the  only  persons  whose 
minds  are  serene,  contented,  and  cheerful.    If  we  wish  happiness 
for  our  children,  then ;  we  shall  carefully  educate  them  to  an  in- 
dustrious life. 

Let  no  parent,  at  the  same  time,  forget  what  alarming  tempta- 
tions, and  what  ffo^  sios,  surround  idleness  and  profusion.  This 
oonsideration  will,  if  any  thing  will,  compel  parents  to  educate  their 
children  in  this  manner.  The  parent's  fortune  is,  here,  of  no  sig- 
ijificafics.    The  heir  of  a  fortune  is  far.more  exposed  to  all  thest 


446  IDLENESS.  pEK.  GZDL 

evils,  than  he,  who  has  none.  If  he  is  to  go  through  life  with  a 
fortune ;  he  is  to  be  taught  to  earn,  and  to  preserve,  properly. 
Without  .^s  instruction,  he  will,  probably,  ere  lonr  be  beggared, 
tempted  without  any  defence  to  multiplied  sins,  ara  become  a  liar, 
'  a  cheat,  a  drunkard,  and  perhaps  a  suicide.  What  parent  would 
not  tremble  at  the  thought,  that  his  own  negligence  would  entafl 
these  evik  upon  his  ofispring  ? 

2.  Young  persons;  whatever  may  have  been  their  education^  an, 
herejfarcmy  taught  to  pursue  an  industrious  and  economical  Kfe. 

The  children  of  wealthy  parents  are  generally  prone  to  believe, 
that  they  are  destined,  not  to  usefulness,  but  to  enjoyment ;  and 
that  they  may  be  idle,  therefore,  without  a  crime.  No  opinion  is 
more  grounoless ;  and  very  few  are  more  fatal.  God  made  aD 
mankind  to  be  useful.  This  character  he  requires  of  them  widioot 
conditions.  He,  who  does  not  assume  it,  will  be  found  inexciua- 
ble  at  the  final  day.  Every  human  ear  ought  to  tingle,  and  every 
heart  to  shudder,  at  the  doom  of  the  unprofitable  servant  in  tble 
Gospel. 

Still  more  prone  are  youths  to  believe,  that  profusion  is  honoo> 
able ;  and  to  shrink  from  the  imputation  of^  niggardly  conduct. 
There  is  no  more  absolute  absmxlity,  than  the  supposition,  that 
prodigality  and  generosity  are  the  same  thing.  They  are  not  even 
allied.  Generosity  consists  in  giving  freely,  when  a  valuable  pu^ 
pose  demands  it ;  and  with  a  disposition,  benevolently  inclined  to 
promote  that  purpose.  Prodigality  is  the  squandering  of  prop- 
erty, not  for  valuaole,  but  base  and  contemptible  purposes ;  for 
the  mere  ^tification  of  voluptuousness,  vanity,  and  pride.  All 
these  gratifications  are  mgan,  selfish,  and  despicable.  The  gen- 
erous man  feels  the  value  of  property.  The  prodigal  has  no 
.  sense  of  this  value.  The  generous  man  gives,  because  what  he 
gives  will  do  real  good  to  the  recipient :  the  prodigal,  because  he 
cares  nothing  about  property,  except  as  it  enables  him  to  acquire 
reputation,  to  gratify  his  [mde,  to  make  an  ostentatious  display 
of  wealth,  or  to  outstrip  and  mortify  a  rival.  In  all  this  there  is 
not  an  approach  towards  generosity.  On  the  contrary,  the  mo- 
tives are  grovelling  and  contemptible ;  and  the  manner,  in  which 
they  are  exhibited  to  the  eye,  is  disingenuous  and  hypocriticd ; 
a  gaudy  dress  upon  a  loathsome  skeleton.  But  the  prodigal  faib 
ot  the  very  reward,  which  he  proposes  as  the  chief  object  of  hb 
expense.  In  spite  of  all  his  wishes,  and  efforts,  even  weak  men 
perceive,  that  he  is  totally  destitute  of  generosity ;  and  those 
who  most  flatter,  are  the  nrst  to  forsake,  Jiim :  while,  to  sheher 
their  own  meanness  and  treachery,  they  proclaim,  more  loudly 
than  any  others,  his  weakness,  faults,  ana  miseries,  to  mankind. 

Let  every  youth,  then,  fasten  his  eye  on  this  wretched  character, 
this  pernicious  conduct,  and  this  deplorable  end.  His  own  ex- 
^ure  let  him  strongly  feel.  Let  him  realize  with  solemn  emo- 
tfams  of  mind ;  that  Idleness  and  Profusion  are  Inroad  and  beaten 


m.  GzziL]  fbodiqalitt;  .^.'  447 

roads  to  ruin,  both  in  this  world  and  that  which  is  to  come. 
^  With  these  views,  let  him  dievote  all  his  time  to  some  useful  and 
'  upright  emplo^ent ;  ahd  thus  make  every  day  vield  its  blessings* 
What  he  acquires  by  commendable  industry,  let  him  liaiithfully  pre- 
serve by  prudent,  watchful  care.  In  this  manner  he  will  become 
nonourable  in  the  sight  of  wise  and  good  men,  a  blessing;  to  him- 
self, to  his  family,  and  to  mankind :  while  1^  will,  at  the  same 
time,  fulfil  one  important  end  of  his  being* 


'I 


*■ 


SERMON  CXXm. 

XtOBTH   COXMANDMENT. — TKAUDm 


i 


EioDvt  u.  16.— TTkotf  Aali  nol  J<e«IL 

Having  considered  the  Frauds^  w%ich  men  praeHse  t^mi 
TTiefnsehesy  and  their  Families^  I  shall  now  proceed  to  examine 
the 

11.  Head  of  discourse^  proposed  at  that  time  :  viz.  The  Fnniit 
which  we  practise  tpon  others • 

Of  these,  the 

1.  Classywhich  I  shall  mention^  is  those  which  respect  Borrotomg 
the  property  of  others » 

Frauds  of  this  kind  are  so  numerous,  that  it  is  impossible  here 
to  mention  them  all ;  and  so  common,  that  most  persons  practise 
them  without  even  suspecting  themselves  to  be  criminal.  Still  they 
are  frauds ;  and  crimes,  which  admit  of  no  excuse. 

Of  this  transgression  persons  are  guilty,  whenever  they  svfftr 
thaty  which  has  been  loaned  to  them^  to  be  injured  through  their  own 
Negligence.  This  evil  is  extremely  common ;  and  by  a  great  part 
of  mankind  is  scarcely  regarded,  unless  when  the  injury  is  consid- 
erable, as  being  censurable  at  all.  Still  it  is  obviouslv  a  violation 
of  confidence ;  a  falsification  of  the  terms,  upon  which  the  loan 
was  given,  and  received.  No  man  ever  lent  any  thing,  of  any 
value,  with  an  agreement  on  his  part,  that  it  should  be  injured, 
unnecessarily,  by  the  borrower.  No  man  ev6r  received  a  loan, 
with  a  profession  on  his  part,  that  he  expected  to  injure  the  thing 
lent,  unless  in  cases,  where  the  nature  of  the  transaction  obviouslv 
involved  the  injury,  and  a  consequent  compensation.  This,  it  will 
be  observed,  is  a  case,  properly  arranged  under  the  head  of  har^ 
gainsj  and  not  of  loans.  Persons  are  guilty  of  this  kind  of  Fraud, 
also,  when  they  return^  instead  of  a  consumable^  or  perishable^  arfi- 
c/e,  which  they  have  borrowed^  what  is  of  inferior  value.  We  often 
borrow  those  things,  which  perish  in  the  use.  In  this  case,  not  a 
small  number  of  individuals  satisfy  their  consciences,  if  they  re- 
turn the  same  thing  in  kind,  and  quantity,  although  plainly  inferior 
in  its  value.  A  scrupulous  spirit  of  integrity  would  induce  us 
rather  to  return  somewhat  more,  in  value,  man  we  have  received ; 
that  we  mzj  make  due  satisfaction  for  the  properf  y  loaned,  and 
for  the  particular  convenience  which  it  has  furnisned  %  % 

Anotner  Fraud  of  the  same  nature  is  practised,  xkenever  we 
unreasonably  detain  in  our  possession  vrhatever  has  beet,  \oaned  tous* 


8ER.  CXXnL]  FRAUP.  44^^ 

lost  persons,  probably,  are  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  chargeable 
ith  this  fault.  A  want  of  punctualitfr  in  this  respect  is  a  seriquB 
evil ;  extending  very  far ;  and  often  intruding,  not  a  little,  upon 
the  peace  and  comfort  of  eood  neighbourho^.  But  there  are 
persons,  who  go  through  life,  borrowing  without  thinking  of  re- 
turning that  which  they  borrow ;  and  who  thus  doubly  i^  the 
good  nature  of  those  around  them.  This  conduct  is  totally  con- 
trary to  good  faith,  and  to  plain  justice.  Every  borrower,  in  his 
application  for  every  loan,  is  unaerstood,  and  knows  that  he  is 
unaerstood,  by  the  lender  to  engage,  not  only  to  return  that  which 
he  borrows,  but  to  return  it  withm  a  reasonia^ble  time.  It  is  unjust, 
and  unkind,  to  retain  the  property  of  the  lender  beyond  his  consent ; 
to  use  it  beyond  his  permission;  and  thus  to  reward  his  kindness 
with  injury. 

Of  a  similar  Fraud  are  we  guilty,  when  we  employ  that^  which  is 
lent,  for  purposes^  and  in  modes,  not  contemplated  by  the  lender.  Mul- 
titudes of  mankind  are  guilty  of  this  crime ;  and  in  ways  almost 
innumerable.  All  our  right  to  the  use  of  the  loan,  not  ok)ly  as  to 
the  fact,  but  also  as  to  the  manner,  and  the  degree,  is  derived  sole- 
\y  from  the  consent  of  the  owner.     To  that,  which  he  has  not 

Siven,  we  have  not,  and  cannot  have,  any  right.  We  are  bound, 
lerefore,  scrupulously  to  use  what  we  borrow,  within  the  limits  of 
his  permission.  When  we  transgress  these  limits,  we  obviously 
violate  the  plain  dictates  of  cfbmmon  justice  j  and  are,  therefore, 
inexcusable. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  fraud,  of  which  youths,  sent  abroad  for 
their  education,  are  so  frequently  guilty,  or  to  which  they  are  so 
strongly  solicited  by  temptation,  as  one  strongly  resembhng  this, 
which  I  have  described.  They  are,  of  course,  entrusted  by  their 
parents  with  property,  necessary,  or  supposed  to  be  necessary, 
to  defray  the  expenses  of  their  education.  Every  parent  has  his 
own  views  concerning  the  manner  in  which  this  property  is  to 
be  expended.  This  manner  the  Parent  usually  prescribes  to  his 
child ;  and  has  an  absolute  right  to  prescribe  it.  The  property 
is  his  own  :  the  chUd  is  his  own.  Both  the  manner,  therefore, 
and  the  expense,  of  the  child's  education  he  has  an  absolute 
right  to  control.  The  parent's  prescription,  then,  the  child  can- 
not escape  without  fraud;  nor  can  he  violate  it  without  filial 
impiety. 

W  hen  such  a  Youth  expends  the  property,  entrusted  to  him  by 
his  Parents,  in  any  manner,  or  to  any  degree,  beyond  his  parent's 
choice ;  so  far  as  that  choice  is  maae  known  to  him ;  he  is  guilty 
of  fraud;  and  violates  the  Command,  which  I  am  discussing.  Nay, 
if  he  is  reasonably  satisfied  concerning  what  his  parent's  choice 
would  he,  although  it  has  not  been  explicitly  declared,  he  is  bound 
scrupulously  to  re^rd  it  in  all  his  conduct ;  and  to  expend  no 
more,  and  for  no  omer  purposes,  than  those,  which  are  involved  in 
his  parent's  pleasure.  Nor  can  he,  consistently  with  his  plaia 
Vol.  III.  57 


• 


.  A 


^tr 


4f0  FRAUD.  [SER.  CXXDl 

daty,  pursue  different  objects,  and  conduct  himself  in  a  different 
manner,  from  what  his  parent  has  prescribed,  without  being  guiltj 
of  similar*  fraud. 

The  parent  may  not  indeed,  and  probably  will  not  often,  punisk 
his  chila  for  these  transgressions.  Often  he  ma^  quietly  acquiesce 
in  the  wrong.  Still  the  conduct  is  not  the  less  sinful ;  nor  the  child 
the  less  guilty.  Human  tribunals  fail  of  punishing  many  crimes; 
but  they  do  not,  for  this  reason,  cease  to  be  crimes.  If  a  child 
would  avoid  sin ;  if  he  would,  in  this  respect,  be  blameless  in  tbe 
fight  of  God ,  he  must  direct  all  his  expenses,  and  regulate  aO 
his  conduct,  conscientiously,  according  to  the  will  and  prescriptioa 
of  his  parents.  To  this  end,  hp  must  limit  his  wants  to  the  allowed 
measure  of  his  expenses ;  and  act,  scrupulously,  as  he  would  ac^ 
if  his  parents  were  continually  present. 

2.  Another  species  of  Frauds  is  practised  in  what  is  called  7Vef« 
passing  on  the  property  of  others. 

Frauds  of  this  nature  are  very  numerous,  and  greatljr  diversified. 
Many  persons,  without  being  sensible  of  doing  any  injustice,  walk 
through  the  inclosures  of  others,  and  tread  down  their  grass,  eraio, 
and  other  valuable  productions  of  their  labour.  Others  leave 
open  the  entrances  to  their  inclosures ;  and  thus  expose  the  fruits 
of  the  earth  to  damage,  and  often  to  destruction.     Others  still, 

f blunder  their  gardens,  orchards,  and  fields,  of  such  fruits,  particn- 
arly,  as  are  delicious.  Others  plunder  their  forests  of  wood,  both 
for  their  own  consumption,  and  for  the  market.  Both  these  acts 
are,  however,  falsely  called  Trespasses.  No  actions  of  man  are 
more  obviously  thefts^  in  the  full  sense.  Accordingly,  they  are 
spoken  of  in  the  language  of  common  sense,  and  common  custom, 
only  under  the  name  of  Stealing.  Others  suffer  their  cattle,  accus* 
tomed  to  break  through  inclosures,  to  go  at  large  in  their  own 
fields  ;  and  thus,  in  reality,  turn  them  into  the  fields  of  their  neigh- 
bours. To  dwell  no  longer  on  this  part  of  the  subject,  multitudes 
habitually  neglect  to  repair  their  own  walls,  and  fences ;  and  in 
this  manner  leave  a  continual  passage  for  their  cattle  into  the  fields 
of  their  neighbours. 

A  verv  different  set  of  Trespasses,  (1  do  not  mean  in  the  legal 
sense  ;  for  I  know  not  what  name  Law  would  give  them)  and  un- 
dertaken with  very  different  views,  is  found  in  the  operations  of 
that  spirit  of  vulgar  mischief  which  through  cnry,  or  some  other 
base  passion,  cherishes  a  contemptible  hostility  against  the  improot- 
ment,  and  beauty,  of  building,  fencing,  and  planting,  formed  by  its 
prosperous  neighbours.  This  spirit  prompts  the  unworthy  minds,  in 
which  it  dwells,  to  mar  and  deface  handsome  buildings  and  fences; 
to  root  up,  or  cut  down  trees  and  shrubs,  planted  for  shade,  and  for 
ornament.  This  spirit  is  no  other,  than  that  of  fAe  dog  in  the 
manger.  It  will  neitner  enjoy  the  good  itself;  nor  suffer  any  others 
to  enjoy  it.  One  would  think,  that,  in  the  view  of  such  minds, 
beauty  and  elegance  were  public  nuisances ;  and  that  to  have  con- 


*• 


w 


>  : 


** 


flfit  cxxnt.3  nuLUD.  4jl 

tributed  to  adorn  one's  country  with  the  delightful  productions  of 
nature,  and  art,  is  a  trespass  upon  the  common  good. 

Another  class  of  Frauds,  possessing  the  same  nature,  is  seen 
in  most  places,  at  least  in  this  country,  in  the  abuses  ofpvhlic  pro* 
perty,  r ublic  buildings  are  almost  every  where  injured  and  de- 
faced ;  the  windows  are  broken ;  the  doors,  wainscoting,  pillars, 
and  other  appurtenances  formed  of  wood,  are  shamefully  carved, 
and  hacked;  the  courts,  balustrades,  and  other  vulnerable  articles, 
are  mangled,  and  destroyed.  In  a  word,  injuries  of  this  nature,  are 
endless ;  and  all  of  them  are  scandalous  frauds ;  useless  to  the 
perpetrators ;  wounding  to  every  man  of  integrity  and  taste  ;  dis- 
couragements to  public  improvement ;  and  sources  of  public  de- 
formity, and  disgrace. 

Another  class  of  these  Frauds  is  denoted  by  the  general  Dame, 
Peculation* 

It  will  be  useless  for  me  to  dwell  on  what  Nations  have  so  long, 
and  so  loudly,  complained  of:  the  plunder  of  the  Public  by 
statesmen,  commissioners,  and  contractors ;  men,  who  appear  to 
feel  a  prescriptive  right  to  fatten  themselves  on  the  spoils  of  the 
community.  There  are,  I  fear,  but  few  men,  comparatively,  who 
feel  themselves  bound  to  deal  with  the  public^  or  with  any  body  of 
their  fellow-men^  agreeably  to  the  same  strict  and  equitable  prin- 
ciples, which  most  persons  acknowledge  to  be  indispensable  in 
dealing  with  individuals.  For  services,  rendered  to  public  bodies, 
almost  all  men  demand  a  greater  reward,  than  they  would  dare  to 
claim  from  individuals.  For  commodities,  sold  to  them,  they  charge 
a  higher  price.  In  settling  accounts  with  them,  they  olaim  greater 
allowances  :  and  in  every  transaction  plainly  intend  to  get  more, 
than  custom  and  equity  have  permittea  in  the  private  business  of 
mankind.  The  single  article  of  Perauisitet  \^  a  gulf  of  voracity, 
which  has  no  bottom.  The  only  rule,  by  which  this  undefined 
class  of  demands  seems  to  be  controlled,  is  to  claim  whatever  the 
person  indebted  can  be  expected  to  give. 

The  common  doctrine  among  all  the  claimants,  to  whom  I  have 
referred,  appears  to  be,  that  there  is  no  wrong  in  demanding  more 
of  public  bodies  for  the  same  service  j  or  the  same  commodity^  than  of 
inaividuals^  because  public  bodies  are  more  able  to  pay.  Justice,  on 
the  contrary,  aflBxes  the  same  value  to  the  same  thing.  This  val- 
ue will  be  affixed  by  every  honest  man ;  and  will  be  nis  only  rule 
of  cofinpensation  for  his  commodities,  or  his  labours,  whoever  may 
be  the  purchaser,  or  the  employer. 

In  every  one  of  the  cases,  which  I  have  specified,  the  persons 
concerned  defiraud  their  fellow-men  of  their  property,  and  cheat 
themselves  out  of  their  dutv  and  their  salvation.  But  they  can- 
not cheat  their  Maker.  The  all-searching  Eye  surveys,  with  a 
terrible  inspection,  these  workers  of  iniquity ;  and,  at  the  final 
day,  will  be  found  to  have  traced  every  secret  winding,  eveiy 
snaky  path,  every  blse  pretence,  and  every  flattering  self-justi* 


459  FRAUD  [8ER.CXXI1L 

fication,  of  frattdk  At  that  awful  period,  how  many  persons  will 
be  found  to  be  cheats,  who  in  this  world  sustained  the  character 
of  fair  dealers ;  and  were  regarded  by  all  around  them  as  honest 
men! 

3.  Another  clasi  of  Frauds^  %$  attendant  vpcn  Bargains. 

These,  like  the  former  classes,  are  very  numerous ;  and  are  va- 
ried continually  by  the  circumstances  of  the  Bargain,  and  the  inge- 
nuity, negligence,  and  dishonesty,  of  the  parties. 

^n  honest  bargain  is  that,  ana  that  only,  in  which  an  Eqttivaleni 
is  given,  and  received  ;  in  which  the  value  of  the  commodities  in 
each  case  being  supposed  to  be  known,  the  fair,  market  price  is 
mutually  allowed.  The  market  price  is,  in  all  ordinary  circum- 
stances, the  equitable  price;  and,  wherever, it  is  known,  will  be 
cheerfully  paid  by  an  honest  man.  Where  it  cannot  be  known, 
such  men  will  settle  their  contracts  as  equitably  as  they  can :  each 
designing  faithfully  to  render,  an  equivalent  for  what  he  receives. 
Every  bargain,  aot  formed  on  these  principles,  is  unjust;  and,  if 
thus  formea  intentionally,  is  dishonest.  But  how  dufierent  from 
these  are  the  principles,  upon  which  bareains  are  very  extensively 
made  in  this  country,  and  but  too  probaoly  in  others  also! 

Among  the  innumerable  frauds,  practised  in  this  vast  field  of 
human  business,  I  shall  specify  the  following. 

Multitudes  of  persons,  when  forming  bargains,  misrepresent,  or 
conceal,  the  state  of  the  markets*  Most  men  profess  to  be  willing 
to  be  governed  in  their  dealings  by  the  market  price.  But  great 
numbers  of  these  very  men  intend  to  buy  for  less,  and  sell  for 
more.  Hence  they  carefully  conceal  thw  price  from  those  with 
whom  they  deal ;  and  thu?  buy  at  diminished,  and  sell  at  enhanc- 
ed, prices.  This  conduct  is  plain  dishonesty;  and  would  not 
deceive  even  the  subject  of  it,  were  he  not  blinded  by  his  own 
tfarice*  He  perfectly  knows,  that  his  neighbour  would  not  buy, 
nor  sell|  on  these  terms,  except  from  his  ignorance ;  and  that  the 
advantage,  which  he  gains,  is  gained  only  from  his  neighbour's 
misapprehension  of  the  commodities  in  question.  Can  an  honest 
man  take  this  advantage  ?  Would  any  man  of  reputation  justify 
himself  in  taking  it  of  a  child  ?  Why  not  of  a  child,  as  well  as  of  a 
man?  Because,  it  will  be  answered,  the  child  knows  not  the 
worth  of  what  he  buys,  or  sells.  Neither,  in  the  case  specified, 
does  the  man.  Would  he,  who  takes  this  advantage,  be  willing 
'that  his  neighbour  should  take  it  of  him?  The  answer  to  this 
question  needs  not  be  given.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  the  conduct 
referred  to  is  unjust  and  fraudulent. 

There  are  ipany  other  persons,  who  directly  misrepresent  tks 
market  price.  These  men  feel  satisfied,  if  they  do  not  palpably 
lie ;  if,  for  example,  they  report  what  this  price  has  lately  been; 
what  they  have  heard  someoody  declare  it  to  be ;  or  what  price 
has  been  given  by  an  individual,  who  has  sold  at  a  high|  or  bought 
at  a  low  price ;  both,  very  different  from  the  Reneid  ooe.    All 


SER  CXXnt]  FRADD.  4g^ 

these  are  mere  fetches,  used  by  a  dishonest  mind  ta  deceive  itself 
and  lo  defraud  others. 

Another  palpable  fraud  of  this  class  is  the  use  0/ false  weighit 
and  measures.  These  are  ofleti  used,  when  ifaey  are  known,  and 
often  when  they  are  inspected,  to  be  false ;  and  more  frequently 
Still,  when  they  are  mffer'd  to  become  drfective  Ihrwtgh  inallention. 
In  (his,  the  man  is  apt  to  feel  himself  escused,  because  he  is  not  in- 
tentionally fraudulent ;  not  remembering,  that,  whenever  it  is  id 
his  power,  God  has  required  him  to  do  jwlly,  and  not  merely  not 
to  design  lo  do  tmJMlly.  He  has  given  him  no  permission  to  sin 
through  negligence.  Weights  and  measures  are  often  formed  of 
such  materials,  as  to  ensure  decay,  and  diminution.  Whenever 
this  is  known  lo  be  the  case,  the  proprietor  is  unpardonable,  if  he 
does  not  by  frequent  examinations  prevent  ihe  injustice.  The 
wrong  he  cannot  but  foresee  ;  and  ihe  remedy  is  always,  and  en- 
tirely, in  his  power.  If  we  love  justice  as  we  ought,  we  shall  take 
all  those  measures,  which  are  necessary  to  accomplish  it.  He,  who 
is  resolved  to  do  to  others  what  he  would  thai  others  ihovld  do  to 
him,  will  never  suffer  it  lo  remain  undone  for  want  of  exertions, 
which  demand  so  little  self-denial. 

Whenever  a  man  begins  to  do  wrong  through  negligence,  he 
will  soon  do  it  through  design.  Indifference  lo  sin  is  ihe  next  step 
(o  the  love  of  it.  The  only  safety  in  this  case,  and  all  others  of 
the  like  nature,  is  to  resist  Iht  beginnings  of  evil.  If  our  opposi- 
tion to  it  be  not  begun  here,  it  will  never  be  begun.  Every  small- 
er transgression  prepares  the  way  for  a  greater.  Every  gross 
villain  has  become  such  by  small  beginnings.  "  No  man,"  saya 
the  Latin  proverb,  "  becomes  abandoned  at  once."  He,  who  be- 
gins lo  backslide  without  compunction,  will  6nd  his  remaining 
course  only  downward ;  and  will  descend  with  continually  in- 
creasing velocity  lo  the  bottom. 

Another  prominent  iniquity  of  this  class  is  Selling  eommoA- 
ties,  ahith  are  unsowul  and  defictivt,  under  direct  prqfetriont, 
that  they  are  sound  and  good.  This  is  sometimes  done  with  pal- 
pable lying;  sometimes  with  indefinite  and  hypocritical  insmu- 
ations.  Agents,  and  men  who  buy  lo  sell  again,  often  assert 
their  wares  to  be  good,  because  those,  of  whom  they  received 
them,  have  declared  ihem  to  be  good.  These  declarations  are 
often  believed,  because  the  agent  professts,  or  at  least  appears, 
to  believe  them ;  while,  in  truth,  he  does  not  give  them  ihe  least 
credit. 

One  of  the  grossest  impositions  of  this  nature  is  practised  upon 
the  public  in  advertising,  and  selling,  nostrums  as  safe  and  valua- 
ble medicines.  These  are  ushered  into  newspapers  with  a  long 
train  of  pompous  declarations,  almost  always  false,  and  always  de- 
lusive. The  silly  purchaser  buys,  and  uses,  the  medicine,  chiefly, 
or  only,  because  it  is  sold  by  a  respectable  man,  and  under  the 
sanction  of  a  splendid  advertisement*  to  which  that  respectable 


4i4f  FRAUD.  pBB. 

man  lends  his  countenance.  Were  such  men  to  decline  tlus  un- 
fortunate and  indefensible  employment,  the  medicines  would 
probably  fall  into  absolute  discredit;  and  health,  and  limbs,  and 
life,  would  in  many  instances  be  preserved  from  unnecessary  de- 
struction. 

Another  specimen  of  similar  fraud  is  practised  in  conceatmg  Ik 
defects  of  what  we  sell.  This  is  the  general  art,  and  villany,  of 
that  cldss  of  men,  who  are  customarily  styled  Jockeys  :  a  dan, 
unhappily  comprehending  multitudes,  who  would  receive  the  ap- 
pellation with  astonishment  and  disdain.  The  common  subto- 
luge  of  these  men  is  this :  ^^  that  they  give  no  false  accounts  cos- 
ceming  their  commodities ;  that  the  purchaser  has  eyes  of  his  own, 
and  must  judge  for  himself.^^  No  aefence  can  be  more  lame  and 
wretched ;  and  scarcely  any,  more  impudent.  A  great  prope^ 
tion  of  vendibles  are  subject  to  defects,  which  no  purchaser  can 
descry.  Every  purchaser  is,  therefore,  obliged  to  depend  os 
the  seller  for  mformation  concerning  them.  All  this  tne  seller 
perfecdy  knows ;  and,  if  he  be  an  honest  man,  will  certainly  ^n 
the  information  to  the  purchaser ;  because  in  the  same  utuadoo 
he  would  wish  it  to  be  given  to  himself.  At  the  same  time,  do 
purchaser  would  buy  mese  articles,  if  he  knew  their  defects, 
unless  at  a  diminished  price.  The  actual  purchaser  is,  thoe- 
fore,  in  colloquial  language,  taken  in  ;  and  taken  in  by  palpabk 
lUlany. 

Another  specimen  of  the  same  nature  is  furnished  by  thepru- 
iicfi  of  depreciating  the  value  of  such  commodiHes^  as  we  wish  to  bwf* 
^  It  is  naughty  it  is  naught^'^^  saith  the  buyer  ^  butj  when  he  hathgom 
his  roay,  he  boasteth.  Such  was  the  conduct  of  men  in  the  days  of 
Solomon.  We  have  ample  proof,  that  human  nature,  now,  is  not 
in  this  respect  altered  for  the  better.  The  ignorant,  the  mod- 
est, and  the  necessitous ;.  persons,  who  should  be  the  last  to  suffer 
from  fraud ;  are  in  this  way  often  made  its  victims.  A  dedsive 
tone,  and  confident  airs,  in  men  better  dressed,  and  supposed  to 
know  better,  than  themselves,  easily  bfiar  down  persons  so  cir- 
cumstanced, and  persuade  them  to  sell  their  commodities  for  less 
than  they  are  pl&inly  worth.  The  purchaser,  in  the  mean  time,  as 
soon  as  they  are  out  of  hearing,  boasts  of  his  gainful  bargain ;  and 
trumpets,  without  a  blush,  the  value  of  the  articles,  which  he  had 
before  decried. 

4.  Another  class  of  frauds  is  connected  with  the  Caniractiony  mi 
Ptmnentj  of  Debts. 

The  first  transeression  of  this  nature,  which  I  shall  mention,  tr 
the  contraction  of  debtSy  zoith  clear  convictiony  that  we  possess  M 
Oieofw  of  discharging  them;  and  that  we  shiUlyin  all probahiUtj^ 
possess  no  such  means  hereafter  ;  at  leasty  within  any  reasonable  p^ 
fiod  of  payment.  Multitudes  of  persons  covet  enjoyments,  in  the 
jpossession  of  others,  to  such  a  degree,  that  they  are  willing  to  ac- 
quire them,  if  they  can,  without  troubling  themselves  about  pay- 


.'IBBLGZXIIL]  '^    .  FRAUD.  /^gj 

•  ■  ■ 

ing  for  them.  Such  persons  arc  often  professed  cheats ;  and  triumph 
in  the  success  of  their  impositions.  But  there  are  others,  who  re- 
gard themselves  as  honest  men ;  and  would  be  not  a  little  sur- 
prised, as  well  as  wounded,  at  the  suspicion  of  fraudulent  designs 
in  their  conduct.  Most,  or  all,  of  these  men  form  some  loose,  inde- 

.  IBnite  design  of  paying  their  debts;  but  instead  of  providing  the 
necessary  means  for  this  purpose,  trust  to  some  future  casualty. 
They  will  tell  the  creditor,  who  charges  them  with  dishonest  con- 
duct, that,  although  they  did  indeed  know  themselves  to  be  desti- 
tute of  property,  and  of  any  rational  expectations  of  future  proper- 
ty, when  the  debt  was  contracted,  yet  they  hoped  that  in  the  course 
of  events,  they  should,  in  some  manner  or  other,  become  able  to 
discharge  it.  In  this  case,  the^  will  add,  they  should  have  dis- 
charged it,  both  willingly  and  faithfully.  What  they  thus  alleee 
18,  probably,  in  many  instances,  true.  The  persons  m  question  ao 
not  form  a  direct  intention  to  defraud  their  creditors.  Thus  far  their 
honesty  goes.  But  here  it  stops.  They  form  no  design,  direct  or 
indirect,  to  take  effectual  measures  to  ao  their  creditors  justice. 
They  do  not  conscientiously  abstain  from  contracting  debts,  until 
they  know,  that  they  shall  be  able  to  cancel  them  by  fair  payment. 
On  the  contrary,  they  contract  them,  when  they  know  themselves 

.  to  be  unable,  and  to  be  unpossessed  of  any  fair  probable  means  of 
being  able  at  a  future  time.  In  all  this  they  are,  although  often 
without  suspecting  it,  grossly  dishonest. 

Another  sin,  very  nearly  akin  to  thiis,  is  contracting  debts^  witk^ 
out  perceiving  any  nuarn  of  payfnent  to  be  in  our  power.  Those, 
who  transgress  in  this  manner,  feel  satisfied,  if  tkey  do  not  hum 
themselves  to  be  %mable  to  pay.  Were  they  evangelically  honest, 
they  would  take  effectual  care  to  see  whether  they  were  able,  or 
not.  Often,  by  overrating  their  property,  their  efforts,  or  the 
markets,  they  feel  a  loose  conviction,  that  they  shall  possess  this 

Kwer ;  but  take  no  pains  to  render  the  fact  cert^,  or  even  pro- 
ble.  Such  morality  can  result  only  from  absolute  insensibility 
of  mind  to  Uie  great  duty  of  doing  jusdy ;  an  entire  ignorance  of 
what  it  demands ;  and  a  total  foreetfubess  of  exposure  to  the  Di- 
Tine  indiniation.  We  are  bound,  oefore  we  receive,  before  we  be- 
come willing  to  receive,  bur  neighbour's  property,  to  know,  that  we 
have  means,  clearly  probable,  of  payine  him :  otherwise,  we  wan- 
tonly subject  him  to  the  loss  of  it ;  ana  differ  very  litde,  as  moral 
•  beings,  from  thieves  and  robbers.  If  we  are  in  doubt  concerning 
either  the  probability,  or  the  sufficiency,  of  these  means ;  it  is  our 
duty  to  detail  them  fairly  to  the  person,  with  whom  we  ar^  deal- 
ing. If,  in  this  case,  he  is  disposed  to  entrust  us  with  his  property, 
and  we  afterwards  make  fiutnful  efforts  to  cancel  the  debt ;  I  oo 
not  see,  that  we  are  chargeable  with  fraud,  although  we  should 
fril.  He  who  contracts  a  debt,  without  discerning  that  he  hat 
probable  means  of  dischamug  it,  differs  in  no  material  respect 
mm  a  Swindler.    He  plunders  his  neighbour  frt>m  indifference  to 


^Uff  numx  pnL 

justice ;  Ai  Smtmiltr  fron  contempt  of  it*    In  the  view  of  con- 
Bion  sense*  in  the  sight  of  God,  the  moral  character  of  both  is  ei- 
tentiallv  the  same. 
Anoiber  trans^jrssion  of  the  same  general  nature,  is  negle€img 
•*  ^pm^  our  diktJ  at  iki  time.     There  are  many  persona,  whose  ge- 
!  aenf  character,  as  honest  men,  is  &jr ;  who  yet,  in  this  respect, 
'  Me  extremely  desening  of  censure.    They  contract  debts,  wiuch 
thev  en^ce  to  discharge  within  a  given  time.    This  time  is,  theie* 
fere«  a  part  of  the  contract ;  a  ground  on  which  the  ba^ain  is  made; 
a  cv>ndition«  on  which  the  pnce  was  calculated.     This  obviois 
tru:h  is  understood  by  all  men ;  and  makes  a  part  of  the  langiage 
of  eveiT  baig^Dy  in  which  credit  is  ^ven.    To  the  expectation, 
ferm^nl  Dy  the  Creditor,  of  receiving  his  debt  at  the  time  specified, 
the  Debtor  has  voluntarily  given  birth.  It  is  an  expectation,  the^^ 
fere,  which  he  is  bound  to  fulfil.     If  he  does  not  take  every  law- 
ful measure  in  his  power,  to  enable  hnnself  to  fulfil  it ;  or  if  he 
does  not  fiilfil  it,  when  it  is  in  his  power;  he  is  guilty  of  fraud;  of 
depriving  his  neighbour,  not  peniaps  of  design,  but  by  a  guitj 
negligence,  of  a  part  of  his  property. 

The  delay  of  payment  beyond  the  appointed  thne,  is,  in  afanoit 
all  instances,  injurious,  and,  in  some,  almost  as  iniurious  to  the 
credited,  as  an  aosolute  refusal  to  pay  would  originally  have  beeiu 
The  real  value  of  a  debt,  where  the  security  is  sufficient,  is,  amoD{ 
men  of  business,  estimated  according  to  the  time,  v?hen  the  pay- 
vent  is  reasonably  expected.  Thus  notes,  bonds,  and  other  ob- 
ligations for  money,  when  given  by  men,  known  to  be  punctual  ia 
the  discharge  of  their  debts,  pass  in  the  market  for  their  nomiotl 
value ;  and  are  received  in  payments  with  no  other  discoimt,  than 
that  which  arises  from  the  aistance  of  the  period,  when  they  be^ 
come  due.  Those  ^ven  by  negligent  men  are,  on  the  contraiTy 
considered  as  depreciated,  fix>m  the  be^nning ;  and  that,  exactrjr 
in  proportion  to  the  negligence  of  the  sjener.  Of  this  sum,  be  it 
what  it  may,  the  negligent  man  defrauds  nis  creditor. 

The  Law  of  God  required,  in  accordance  with  the  doctrine, 
which  I  am  urging,  that  tne  sun  should  not  be  sufiered  to  go  down 
upon  the  hire  of  the  labourer.  The  Spirit  of  punclnfity,  here 
enjoined,  ought  to  be  found  in  all  men.  The  engagements,  whkh 
we  make,  we  are  bound,  as  honest  men,  to  fiilfil.  The  expetfl* 
i  Hons  which  we  knowingly  excite  in  the  minds  of  those,  with  iHioB 
we  deal,  we  are  requir^  to  satisfy :  and,  when  we  &1I,  either  vo- 
luntarily or  negligently,  we  are  inexcusable. 

The  last  iniquity  of  this  species,  which  I  shall  mention,  is  (b 
fttynwU  i^JUbti  with  tonutkmg  rf  Ua  valve,  than  thai  wUdi  m 

It  has  been  doubtless  observed,  that  I  have,  all  along  threorii* 

Ml  this  discourse,  chiefly  passed  over  in  silence  those  gross  fiaini» 

^  *  "^  are  the  direct  objects  of  criminal  prosecution.    Such  is  nj 

here,    1  shall  pass  by  the  gross  iniquities  of  pasiisc 


I 


t 


CXWLl  ftUDlX  457 

counterfeit  currency ;  forging  obligations,  and  endorsements;  and 
others  of  the  like  nature.  To  reprove  these  crimes  canilot  be 
necessary  in  this  place.  I  have  therefore  confined,  and  shall  still 
confine  myself,  to  those  which  are  esteemed  smaller  transgrea* 
sions,  and  are  less  observed,  and  less  dreaded,  by  mankind.    :       f 

There  are  some  kinds  of  currency,  whose  real  value  is  inftirior  \ 
to  that,  which  is  nominaL  Coin  is  in  some  countries,  and  at  some  ( 
times,  alloyed  below  the  common  standard.  It  is,  ako,  very  often  i 
worn  down  below  the  standard  weight.  Paper-currency  is,  also,  ^ 
in  many  instances  subjected  to  a  discount,  wherever  its  true  value '.. 
b  understood.  Debts  are  very  often  paid  with  this  depreciated^ 
currency,  without  any  notice  given  by  the  debtor  of  its  deprecia- 
tion. 

Debts  are  paid,  also,  to  a  considerable  extent  in  commodities. 
In  these  there  are  often  defects,  in  kind,  or  quantity,  not  readily 
perceivable  by  the  creditor,  and,  what  is  much  more  unhappy, 
concealed,  or  not  disclosed  by  the  debtor. 

Often,  debts  are  paid  by  labour  and  services.  These,  not  un- 
firequently,  are  stinted  with  respect  to  the  time,  through  which  the 
labour  oueht  to  extend ;  the  skill,  and  thorough  execution,  which 
ought  to  be  employed ;  the  care,  which  ought  to  be  used ;  and, 
universally,  the  completeness  of  the  service  engaged,  and  therefore 
justly  expected,  by  the  creditor.  In  every  case  of  this  nature,  it 
18  the  design  of  the  debtor  to  ^in  something  by  the  means,  and 
mode,  of  payine  the  debt,  which  he  would  not  have  gained,  had 
he  paid  it  in  undebased  coin ;  and  which  he  would  not  have  gained 
by  a  ftiir,  honest  fulfilment  of  the  orieinal  terms  of  the  contract* 
whenever  the  debtor  feels,  that  in  discnarging  his  debts  he  has  ac- 
quired something  from  the  creditor,  not  involved  in  the  plain  termi 
of  the  contract,  ne  may  be  assured,  that  his  mode  of  payment  has 
involved  in  it  a  fraud,  and  that  he  has  acted  the  part  of  a  cheat. 

All  these  may,  and  often  do,  seem  to  the  perpetrators,  crimes  of 

little  moment :  and  it  will,  perhaps,  be  no  easy  matter  to  convince 

them  of  the  contrary.     I  wish  such  persons  to  remember  the  great 

maxim,  taught  by  the  unvarying  experience  of  man ;  that  he,  who 

*  allows  himself  to  be  dishonest  in  one  thing,  will  soon  be  dishonest 

^^'itk  all  things.    I  wish  them  still  more  solemnly  to  remember,  that 

'    €k>d  is  a  witness  of  all  their  fraudulent  conduct,  however  it  may 

be  concealed  from  mankind ;  and  that,  although  they  may  cheat 

men,  they  cannot  cheat  God.  * 

5.  Another  enormous  ''.kue  offraudi  u  composed  of  Breaches  of  ] 
Trust. 

Upon  this  unlimited  subject  my  observations  must  be  few,  and 
summary.  Frauds  of  this  kind  are  found  in  the  servant  and  the 
monarch,  and  in  all  the  intervening  classes  of  mankind.  They 
fill  with  complaints  everv  mouth ;  and  haunt  every  human  concern. 
To  describe  them,  would  demand  the  contents  of  a  library :  to 
name  them,  would  be  to  recount  most  of  the  business  of  man.    As 

Vol.  hi.  68 


45S  FRAUD  £SER.  dm 

they  exist  evenr  where ;  so  all  men  are  iamiliariEed  to  them.  Of 
course,  it  is  the  tess  necessary  to  detail  them  here.  There  is, 
p>Jso,  but  one  opinion  concerning  them,  and  concerning  their  au- 
thors. They  are  all  by  the  universal  voice  pronounced  to  be 
frauds ;  and  their  authors  to  be  knaves  and  villains.    / 

He.  who  assumes  an  employment,  engages  in  the  very  aitamp- 
tion  to  discharge  the  duties,  which  it  obviously  involves.  If  he'&iu, 
he  fails  of  his  duty ;  if  he  negli&;ently,  or  voluntarily,  fails ;  he  is, 
palpably,  a  dishonest  man.  The  expectat^tfte,  which  we  knoi^ 
m^Iy  eicite  in  others,  we  are  indispensaUy Jtfoand  to  fulfil.  No- 
thmg  less  than  this,  will  satisfy  the  commands  of  God^tOr  the  dic- 
tates of  an  unwarped  Conscience.  Nothisor  less  will  ever  ac- 
^ire,  or  secure,  a  mir  reputation.  I  shall  omy  add,  that  there  is 
no  easy  or  sure  method  of  accomplishing  this  invaluable  object^ 
but  to  legin  t^rly^  and  to  go  on  with  inflexible  persevenmct. 

REMARKS. 

1.  The  Subject  J  which  has  been  under  consideration,  presenis  ns 
with  a  very  humiliating  and  painful  specimen  of  human  comptimu 

The  duty  of  rendering  justice  to  our  neighbour,  is  one  of  tbe 
plainest  dictates  of  the  law,  written  on  the  hearts  of  men  ;  one  of 
the  fifftl  demands  of  conscience ;  one  of  the  prime  injunction  of 
God.  Accordingly,  no  duty  has  been  more  readily,  universallj, 
or  absolutely,  acknowledged,  or  demanded,  by  mankind.  The 
bounds,  also,  which  separate  justice  from  injustice,  are  often  de* 
fined  with  mathematical  exactness,  almost  always  clearly  known, 
and  rarely  capable  of  being  mistaken.  Yet  in  how  many  ways, 
forms,  and  varieties,  is  this  duty  violated  !  By  how  many  mdivid* 
uals !  Of  how  many  classes !  Who,  however  wise,  honourable, 
or  excellent,  however  reverenced,  or  beloved,  is  not,  at  times,  the 
victim  of  fraud,  and  the  dupe  of  cunning !  The  known  instances 
are  innumerable.  What  enaless  multitudes  are  probably  unknown, 
except  by  the  Omniscient  Eye !  How  great  a  part  of  human  time 
and  talents  has  been  employed  only  in  Fraud !  One  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  persons,  in  the  City  of  London  alone,  are  declar- 
ed by  the  judicious  Calhoun  to  derive  the  whole,  or  the  chief  part, 
of  their  subsistence  from  fraudulent  pactices.  Here,  villany  of 
diis  nature  has  become  a  science ;  and  is  pursued,  not  merely 
without  remorse,  but  with  system ;  with  a  coolness,  which  laugiw 
at  morality ;  an  ingenuity,  which  baffles  detection  ;  and  indubtry, 
which  would  do  honour  to  virtue ;  and  a  success,  which  over- 
whelms the  mind  with  amazement.  All  these  thin^  exist  in  the 
Capital  of  that  country,  which  has  been  more  distmguished,  than 
any  other,  for  knowledge,  morality,  and  Religion. 

But  London  is  not  alone  concerned  in  this  miquity.  It  prevails 
wherever  rights  are  claimed,  or  property  exists.  In  our  own 
eountry,  so  young,  and  distinguished  beyond  most  others  for  the 
moral  character  of  its  inhabitants,  it  prevails  in  a  manneri  which 


BEE.  cxmL]  nULUD.  459 

ought  to  co?er  us  with  shame,  and  sorrow*  Frauds,  .of  all  the 
kinds  which  have  been  mentioned,  are  not  only  practised,  but 
avowed*  Nay,  many  of  them  have  ceased  to  wear  the  name  of 
firauds.  Oppressive  bargains  are  customarily  styled  bv  those, 
who  make ^k^  good  bargains;  and  boasted  of  as  specimens  of 
ingenidty,  sRill,  and  success.  Debts,  in  multiplied  instances,  are 
contracted  without  honesty )  and  withholden  by  mere  fraud* 
Even  the  settlement  of  estates  furnishes,  often,  gross  exhibitions 
of  oppression  and  a|ttating ;  and  the  widow  and  the  &therless  are 
made  a  prey.  Whjsis  this  done  ?  Because  the  deceased  is  gone, 
and  cannot  detect  the  iniquity ;  because  those,  whom  he  has  left 
behind,  arc  without  4ftfence,  and  without  remedy* 

A  CTeat  part  of  the  business  of  Legislators  is  the  prevention  of 
fraud*  To  detect  and  punish  it,  is  the  chief  employment  of  Judi- 
cial tribuAals*  How  immense  have  been  the  labours  of  both; 
and  to  how  vast  an  extent  have  they  laboured  in  vain ! 

How  frequently  do  we  ourselves  see  character,  safety,  and  the 
soul,  all  hazarded  for  a  pittance  of  gain,  contemptible  in  itself; 
and  of  no  consequence  to  him  who  cheats  his  neighbour,  and 
sells  himself,  to  acquire  it!  Wiih  what  unceasidg  toil,  and  un* 
der  what  hard  bondage,  does  the  miser  wear  and  waste  bis  life, 
to  filch  from  those  around  him  little  gleanings  of  piopertfy^flMrely 
to  b*'^y  it  in  his  chest,  and  without  daring  to  use  it  for  bimseu 
or  his  family!  How  freauently  do  swindlers,  and  gamblers, 
like  the  troubled  ghosts  ot  antiauity,  haunt  places  of  public  re- 
sort ;  and  stare  in  open  day,  ana  in  circles  of  decent  men,  until 
the  hour  of  darkness  arrives;  when  they  may  again,  like  their 
kindred  vampyres,  satiate  themselves  upon  rottenness  and  cor- 
ruption ! 

How  often  is  war  made ;  how  often  are  oceans  of  blood  spilt; 
lives  destroyed  in  millions;  and  immense  portions  of  human 
happiness  extinguished ;  merely  to  plunder  others  qf  their  prop- 
erty! 

To  all  these  evils,  instruction,  example,  laws,  punishments, 
conscience,  the  Word  of  God,  and  the  prospect  of  damnation,  op- 
pose their  force  and  terror  in  vain*  rruaence  and  policy  con- 
tend against  it  with  as  litde  success*  All  nations  have  pronounced 
honesty  to  be  more  profitable  than  any  other  conduct*  Poverty 
on  the  one  hand,  ana  infafny  on  the  ouier,  have  ever  threatened 
the  intentional  knave  with  a  whip  of  scorpions*  Still,  he  walks 
onward  coolly,  and  steadily,  unmoved  either  by  the  remonstrances 
of  earth  and  Heaven,  or  the  dangers  of  Hell* 

2*  These  observations  show  the  vast  importance  of  fixing  in  out 
own  mindsy  and  in  the  mindt  of  our  children^  the  strongest  sense^  and 
the  most  vigorotu  habits^  of  exact j  Evangelical  Integrity » 

He,  who  wishes  to  live  well  here,  and  to  be  happy  hereafter, 
must  in  all  his  intentional  dealings  ask,  as  an  all-controlling  ques- 
tion, What  is  right?  and  make  all  things  bend  to  the  answer*  *^  Fiak 


t.* 


4M  FRAUD  pER.  CXXIIL 

• 

jtutUiafjf'imi  calum^^^  onght  to  be  the  governing  maxim  of  private 
as  well  as  public  life.  Of  all  virtues,  Justice  and  Truth  are  the 
first  in  Older,  the  first  in  importance.  To  them  every  thin^  ought 
to  give  way.  If  they  are  permitted  to  rule,  man  cannot  fail  to  oe 
virtuous,  amiable,  and  happy. 

But  every  moral  truth,  and  every  moral  precept,  is  of  more  con- 
sequence to  children^  and  may  be  made  of  more  use  to  them,  than 
it  can  be  to  others.  Good  seed,  sown  in  the  spring-time  of  life, 
•^ cannot  ordinariljr  fiyl  to  produce  a  harvest;  which  will  be  vainly 
^  eipteted,  if  it  St  sown  in  the  autumn.  The  parent,  who  values 
J^m  comfort,  character,  or  salvation,  of  his  child,  will  impress  on 
his  young  and  tender  mind,  in  the  most  affecting  manner  possible^ 
the  incalculable  excellence  and  importance  of  integrity,  and  the 
inestimable  worth  of  an  unblemished  character,  and  an  unsullied 
life.  At  this  hopeful  period,  the  parent  should  inweave  into  the 
mind  of  the  chila,  as  a  part  of  his  constitutional  thinking,  a  strong 
conviction,  that  property  itself,  according  to  the  usual  dispensa- 
tions of  God,  is  to  oe  acquired  only  by  uprightness  of  conduct ; 
and  that  fi*aud  is  the  highway  to  beggary,  as  well  as  to  shame. 
Peace  of  conscience,  he  should  be  taught  from  the  first,  can 
■  never  dwell  in  the  same  soul  with  injustice  :  and  without  peace  of 
conscience,  he  should  know,  the  soul  will  be  poor  and  miserable. 
Habitually  should  he  remember,  that  the  Eve  of  God  looks  alwaj 
upon  the  heart;  and  that  every  dishonest  design,  word,  and  act, is 
recorded  in  that  book,  out  of  which  he  will  be  Judged  at  the  ereal 
day.  Finally,  he  should  learn  the  unvarying  met ;  that  one  fraud 
generates  another  of  course  ;  and  that  thus  the  dishonest  man  cor- 
rupts, unceasingly,  his  heart  and  his  life,  and  is  seen  by  all  around 
him  to  be  a  vessel  of  wraths  daily  fitting  for  destruction.  All  these 
instructions,  example  should  enforce,  and  sanction:  and  on  them 
all  prayer  should  invoke  its  efficacious  blessings. 

3.  i%ese  observations  teach  us  how  greatly  siichj  as  are  custonuh 
rilu  stvled  Moral  men,  deceive  themselves. 

Multitudes  of  men,  who  sustain  this  character,  censure  Preach- 
ers for  dwelling  so  frequently  on  the  Doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  and 
for  not  introducing,  oftener,  its  moral  precepts  into  their  Sermons. 
These  persons  regard  themselves  as  being  moral  in  the  proper 
sense ;  and  wish  preachers  to  inculcate  j  ist  such  morality,  as  they 
themselves  practise.  They  pay  their  Jebts,  and  wish  other  men 
to  pay  theirs ;  keep  true  accounts;  sell  at  the  market  prices  ;  make 
%M  good  bargains  as  they  can  ;  and  get  as  much  money  as  they 
can,  in  this  manner.  These  are  the  things,  which  {hey  wisn 
preachers  to  inculcate. 

Such  persons  are  yet  to  learn,  that  the  Morality  of  the  Gospel 
IB  wonderfully  difierent  from  all  this.  It  includes  whatever  1  have 
said,  in  this  and  the  preceding  discourses,  concerning  the  Law  of 
God ;  whatever  I  shall  say  in  the  succeeding  ones ;  and  more  than 
I  have  said,  or  can  say,  in  both.     The  Morality  of  the  Gospel  be* 


4 


IBB.  CXXUL]  WtJJttk  461  '. 

gins  in  an  honest  and  good  heart,  disposed  to  rmd&r  wltfWi  and 
exactly,  to  our  neighbour  the  things  that  are  our  nei^blidMir s,  and 
to  Ooathe  things  that  are  Ood?s.    It  knows  not,  it  dhdains,  it 
abominates,  the  tricks,  the  fetches,  the  disguises,  the  conceahnents,    - 
the  enhancements,  the  delays  of  payment,  the  depreciated  pay* 
ments,  the  base  gains,  and  the  double-minded  character,  always 
found  in  the  coarse-spun  morality  of  this  world.    Worldly  Moral- 
ity aims  supremely,  and  only,  at  being  rich}  ETBDjrelical  Morality 
at  doing  that,  which  is  rijght.    Every  persoDr.ffriifnid  with  worldly  J . 
morality,  who  hears  this  sermon,  will  proba1)IJmf|r%way  fi^^^^^' 
displeased  with  what  he  will  call  its  ngidnew;  and  disconteidScr 
to  find,  that  what  he  has  been  accustomed  to  diink  his  own  strong* 
hold,  furnishes  him  with  so  Uttlc  either  of  safety  or  ^ii^Hifort.    But 
let  him  remember,  that,  whether  he  is  pleased  or  displeased,  no  Mo> 
rality,  short  of  this,  will  answer  the  demandb  of  die  Law  of  God* 


i" 


\  • 


•*• 


SERMON  CXXIV. 


SIOHTH   COHKARDHENT. — GAKINO. 


I  ExoDviii.  15. — TheuiliaU  net  Heal. 

The  Frauds  practised  by  men  upon  tkemsthes,  anil  (A«r_ 
Hits  ;  and  a  variety  of  Frauds,  perpelraltd  by  mankind  upon 
Other,  have  occupied  tie  two  preceding  discourses. 

1  shall  DOW  pTOceed  lo  the  consideralioa  of  anoiher  Fraud 
this  lailer  claLS ;  viz.  Gaming". 

Multitudes  of  persons  professedly  believe  Gaming  to  be  inno- 
cent; and  accordingly  labour  not  a  liltle  to  justify  it  toothers. 
As  they  aim  to  clear  it  from  all  imputations  of  criminality ;  it  mQ 
be  boiii  proper,  and  necessary,  to  consider  the  subject  generalij 
that  its  advocates  may  perceive,  that  It  is  not  only  fraudulent, ' 
sinful  in  many  other  respects. 

The  Observations,  wnich  I  shall  make  on  this  subject,  will 
aAunged  under  the  following  Heads. 

I.  7%e  Evils  of  Gaming,  which  immediately  respect  Others  ;  an^ 

II.  TTiose,  which  immedialtli/  respect  Ourselves. 
Among  the  evils,  -which  respect  others,  I  observe, 
1.   Tiutl  Gaming  is,  in  allinstances.  Fraud. 
By  Gaming,  here,  1  intend  that  only,  by  mhich  properly  it 

or  tost ;  and  this  properly,  by  which  parly  soever  acquire4|  ^ 
assert  to  be  acquired,  invariably  by  fraud- 

There  are  but  two  possible  methods,  by  which  we  can  acquire  prt* 
perty  from  others  honestly  ;  viz.  either  by  free  gift;  or  by  rendtr* 
ing  an  equivalent  for  what  we  receive,  I  need  not  say,  thst  pro- 
perty, won  by  Gaming,  is  not  obtained  in  either  of  these  tnyn 
That,  which  IS  acquired,  neither  Is,  nor  is  intended  to  be,  given 
and  instead  of  an  equivalent,  the  Gamester  renders  nothing  ft 
what  he  has  receivecl. 

God  in  the  Decalogue,  has  absolutely  bound  us  not  to  cow 
any  thing,  which  is  our  neighbour"'!.  This  sin  of  coveting,  cva 
Gamester  is  guilty  of,  when  he  sits  down  to  win  the  property  < 
his  neighbour.  Of  this  truth  he  gives  imanswerable  evidence  i 
many  ways.  To  win  the  property  in  question,  is  the  only  motiTi 
for  which  he  spends  his  hours  at  the  card-table,  and  the  oice-ba 
At  the  same  time,  be  sees  his  companion  afflicted,  suffering,  ai 
even  ruined,  by  the  loss  of  his  property,  without  restoring,  < 
thinking  of  restoring,  to  him  any  part  of  what  he  has  lost.  Q! 
he  not  covet  this  property,  the  most  vulgar  humanity  would  inda 


SER  CXXIV.]  GAMllTC.  4gg 

bim  to  relieve  distresses,  the  relief  of  which  would  demand  only 
the  S&cniice  of  what  he  did  nol  wish  lo  retain.  Instead  of  this, 
bowevcr,  we  always  find  him  speak  of  his  winnings,  when  valua- 
tle,  with  self-graiulaiioii  and  triumph ;  and  plainly  considering 
them  as  acquisitions  of  no  small  importance  lo  nis  own  hap})iiiess. 
The  Gamester,  therefore,  ainfully  covets  ihe  property  of  his  neigh- 
bour. The  desien  to  obtain  it  without  rendering  an  equivalent,  is 
in  its  nature  fraudulent ;  and  will  be  admitted  into  his  mind  by  no 
honest  man.  But  this  design  every  Gamester  cherishes;  and  the 
indulgence,  and  execution  of  it,  spends  the  principal  pan  of  hia 
life.  His  life  is,  therefore,  an  almost  uninterrupted  course  of  fraud. 
To  render  this  career  complete,  the  Gamester  spends  a  great  paH 
of  his  time  in  contrivances,  and  labours,  to  get,  and  in  actually 
getting,  the  property  of  others  for  nothing.  This  is  the  very 
crime  of  the  cheat,  the  swindler,  and  the  '.hief.  If  the  ihlel^ 
when  he  stole  ;  the  cheat,  when  he  bargained;  and  the  swindler, 
when  he  borrowed  his  neighbour's  property,  voluntarily  left  an 
equivalent;  how  obvious  is  it,  that  his  crime,  though  1  acknow- 
ledge he  might  even  then  be  in  some  degree  criminal,  would  hard- 
ly be  mentioned,  and  scarcely  regarded  as  an  immorality.  The 
main  turpitude  in  every  one  of  these  cases  is  plainly  the  desiring, 
and  the  taking,  of  our  neighbour's  properly  without  an  equivalent. 
But  this  turpitude  is  entirely  chargeable  to  the  Gamester. 

It  may,  however,  be  said,  that  all  the  other  persons,  mention- 
ed, take  the  property  in  question,  covertly ;  while  the  Gamester 
takes  it  openly^  and  therefore  fairly.  So,  I  answer,  does  the 
robber. 

It  will  be  further  said,  that  these  persons  take  the  properly  wifA- 
*>«(  the  consent  of  the  owner :  whereas  the  Gamester  wins  it,  only 
«i(/t  his  consent.  As  I  supi>ose  this  to  be  the  strong-hold  of  all, 
who  advocate  the  lawfulness  ofGaming,  it  will  be  proper  to  con- 
sider il  with  some  attention. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  thit  eonir.nt  ij  never  given  in  tfie  manner, 
proftssedly  alleged  by  those  who  defend  the  practice. 

No  man  ever  sat  down  to  a  game,  with  an  entire  consent,  that 
his  antagonist  should  win  his  property.  I  speak  of  those  cases 
only,  in  which  the  property  stakea  is  considered  as  of  some  seri- 
ous importance.  Every  person,  who  is  a  party  in  a  game  of  this 
nature,  intends  to  win  the  properly  of  his  antagonist,  and  not  to 
lose  his  own.  His  own  he  stakes,  only  because  the  stake  is  Ah- 
aolutely  necessary  to  enable  him  to  win  that  of  his  anlagonisL 
Thus,  instead  of  consenting  to  lose  his  own  property,  each  of  the 

?arlies  intends  merely  to  obtain  that  of  his  neighbour  for  nothing. 
"his  is  the  only  real  design  of  both  ;  and  this  design  is  as  unjust, 
and  as  fraudulent,  as  any,  which  respects  properly,  can  be.  That 
such  is  ihc  only  real  design,  the  loser  proves,  in  me  clearest  man- 
ner, by  deeply  lamenting  his  loss;  and  the  winner,  in  a  manner 
little  less  clear,  by  exulting  in  his  gain. 


4 


464  QAMING.  [SER.  GSOf. 

Secondly*  Eiach  of  Ihe parties  expects  only  io  win}  either  Jn/s^ 
perior  s/cill^  or  svperior  eood'fortune. 

No  man  ever  heard  o?  a  Gamester,  who  sat  down  to  play  widit 
decided  expectation  of  losing. 

Thirdly.  Xo  man  has  a  right  to  yield  his  property  to  mother  m 
this  condition*  * ' 

The  property  of  every  man  is  given  to  him  by  his  Creator,  ai 
to  a  stewara ;  to  be  employed  only  in  useful  purposes.  In  sach 
purposes  he  is  indispensably  bound  to  emplov  it.  Every  other 
mode  of  employing  it  is  inexcusable.  This  aoctrine  I  presume 
the  Gamester  himself  will  not  seriously  question.  Tbe  man  must 
be  lost  to  decency,  and  to  common  sense,  who  can  for  a  moment 
believe,  that  his  Creator  has  given  any  blessing  to  mankind  fiv 
any  purposes,  except  those  which  are  useful ;  or  that  himself,  and 
every  one  of  his  feltow-men,  are  not  unconditionally  reauired  hj 
God  to  promote  useful  purposes  with  all  the  means  in  their  power; 
and  with  their  property,  eoually  with  other  means  at  all  times. 
But  it  will  not  oe  pretended,  that  staking  ))ix>perty  on  the  issue  of 
a  game,  is  an  employment  of  that  property  to  any  purpose,  which 
God  will  pronounce  to  be  useful.  In  his  sight,  therefore,  no  man 
can  lawfully  emplov  his  property  in  this  manner.  Of  course  both 
parties,  in  thus  staking  tneir  money,  are  guilty  of  sin  :  while  each 
also  invites,  and  seduces,  the  other  to  sin. 

Fourthly.  Every  man  is  plainly  hound  to  devote  his  property  is 
that  purpose^  whichy  all  things  considered^  appears  to  be  the  best  of 
thosej  which  are  within  his  reach* 

By  this  I  do  not  mean  that,  which  is  best  in  the  abstract ;  hot 
best  for  Atm,'  in  the  sphere  of  action,  allotted  to  him  by  his  Ma- 
ker. In  other  words,  every  man  is  bound  to  do  with  his  prope^ 
ty,  as  well  as  his  other  talents,  the  most  good  in  his  power.  I  am 
well  aware,  that  this  subject  cannot  be  mathematically  estimated ; 
that,  in  many  cases,  the  mind  of  a  wise  and  good  man  may  be  at 
a  loss  to  determine;  and  that  the  determination  must  be  left  to 
personal  discretion.  But,  in  the  present  case,  there  can  be  nei- 
ther difficulty,  nor  doubt.  No  man  will  pretend,  that  losing  his 
money  to  a  Gamester,  is  disposing  of  it  in  such  a  manner,  as  to 
promote  the  best  purpose  in  his  power.  If  he  needs  it  himself;  it 
will  be  more  useful  to  him  to  keep  it  still  in  his  possession.  If  he 
does  not  need  it ;  it  will  be  incomparably  better  to  give  it  to  those 
who  do.  To  inipart  it,  thud,  to  a  Gamester,  always  a  vicious 
man,  often  a  profligate,  and  always  a  squanderer ;  a  man  known 
to  employ  his  money  for  sinful  purposes  only ;  can  never  be  useful, 
nor  even  vindicable,  in  any  sense.  The  proof  of  this  is  complete. 
No  man  ever  thought  of  making  a  Gamester,  as  suchj  an  object 
of  alms-giving.  To  other  promgals,  to  idlers,  and  even  to  drunk- 
ardk  alms,  at  times,  are  given.  But  the  most  enlarged  charity 
nevor- dreamed  of  finding  a  proper  object  of  its  bounty  in  a  game- 
ster.   To  stake  money  in  this  manner,  therefore,  is  so  fiu*  bom 


8ER.  CXZnr.]  QABmfO.  46A 

employing  it  in  the  best  manner  which  is  in  the  owner's  power, 
that  it  is  employing  it  in  a  manner,  indefensible,  and  in  every  re* 
spect  sinful. 

From  these  considerations  it  is  plain,  that  this  arrament  in  fa- 
Tour  of  Gaming  cannot  avail  to  the  purpose,  for  which  it  is  ad- 
duced. On  the  contrary,  it  only  contributes  to  exhibit  the  sinful- 
ness of  Gaming  in  a  new  light. 

It  often  happens,  and  almost  always  in  the  beginning .  of  this 
practice,  that  the  Gamesters  are  youths ;  and  that  the  property, 
which  they  stake,  belongs  to  their  parents.  This  property  is 
never  entrusted  to  children  for  the  puri>ose  of  Gamidg.  They  re-  ' 
ceive,  and  their  parents  communicate,  it  for  some  vduable  end; 
in  which  the  promotion  of  their  comfort  and  welfare  was  concern- 
ed. In  receiving  it,  the  children  engaged,  either  expressly,  or 
implicitly,  to  use  it  for  this  end.  In  staxin^  it,  therefore,  at  the 
Gaming-table,  the  child  is  guilty  of  a  gross  breach  of  good  faith; 
and  literally  robs  his  parents  of  their  property.  And  Ae,  says 
Solomon,  who  rohheih  his  father^  or  his  mother^  and  saith  it  is  no 
sin,  is  the  Jit  companion  oja  murderer^* 

2.  The  Gamester  nuns  multitudes  of  his  fellow'menj  and  injures 
deeply  multitudes  more. 

6y  this  I  intend,  that  he  plunders  them  of  their  property,  and 
reduces  them  to  beggary.  The  whole  history  of  Gaming  is  a  mere 
record  of  this  ruin.  It  is  also  completely  evinced  by  daily  observa- 
tion. The  bankruptcies,  continually  brought  upon  mankind  in  this 
manner,  are  innumerable ;  particularly  upon  the  youne,  the  ienor- 
ant,  the  thoughtless,  and  the  ^.ddy.  He,  who  can  coolly  sit  down 
to  the  ruin,  or  even  to  the  sendos  injury,  of  one  of  his  fellow-men, 
b  an  arrant  villain ;  equally  destitute  of  common  good-will,  and 
common  honesty. 

3.  The  Gamester  corrupts  others  by  his  Example  ;  and  thus  entaUs 
tfon  them  moral  nisn. 

One  sinner^  saith  the  Wise  man,  de^troyeth  much  good.  In  na 
manner,  is  this  terrible  mischief  accomplished  so  extensively,  and 
so  effectually,  as  by  an  evil  example.  Uamesters  are  always  wick- 
ed men,  totally  destitute  of  principle,  and  sunk  far  below  the  corn- 
mob  level  of'^  corruption.  To  this  degree  of  turpitude  every 
Gamester  reduces  all  those,  who  become  his  companions.  Hie 
ruin,  here  accomplished,  is  infinitely  more  dreadful  than  that,  men- 
tioned under  the  preceding  head,  it  is  the  endless  ruin  of  the  soul; 
the  destruction  of  every  enjoyment,  and  every  hope.  All  other 
injuries,  compared  with  it,  are  nothings*  and  less  than  nothing. 
TYith  the  guilt  of  accomplishing  this  stupendous  evil,  the  Gamester 
b  wholly  chargeable ;  and  for  this  guilt  he  will  be  compelled  to 
answer  at  the  final  day.  What  sober  man,  nay,  what  profligate, 
would  not  tremble  at  the  thought  of  assuming  this  responsiboiljr  t 

•  Prov  uiU  S4. 

Vol.  III.  59 


466  OAifflf a 

But  the  Gamester  coolly  and  quietly  makes  himself  answeraUe, 
not  for  the  ruin  of  one  soul,  but  of  multitudes. 

4.  The  Gamester  rtdru  his  family. 

The  Gamester  voluntarily,  and  causelessly,  exposes  himself  to 
beggary.  In  this  conduct  he  sets  afloat,  without  any.  security,  and 
against  every  rational  hope,  the  property,  on  which  his  wife  and 
children  are  to  be  supported,  and  oy  which  his  children  are  to  be 
educated,  and  settled  for  life.  Almost  every  Gamester  is  rained 
by  play.  By  this  disaster,,  both  the  comforts  and  the  hopes  of  hit 
&mily  are  destroyed ;  their  spirits  broken,  and  lost ;  ana  all  thdr 
efforts  to  gain  character  and  subsistence,  prevented.  But,  tf  amj 
fnan  provide  not  for  his  otdtij  especially  those  of  his  awn  house^  b 
hath  denied  thefaiih^andis  worse  than  an  Infidel.  What  then  shall 
be  said  of  the  man,  who  squanders  in  this  useless  andgiiilty  man- 
ner, all  that  himself  or  his  ancestors  have  provided  f  To  the  mere 
lustof  Gaming  he  sacrifices  the  propertv,  on  which  his  bjrStj 
might  subsist  with  comfort  and  reputation,  by  which  they  might  be 
educated  to  usefulness  and  honour,  and  by  which  they  might  be 
settled  advantageously  in  life.  To  this  lust,  therefore,  he  sacrificei 
their  subsistence,  their  hopes,  their  all. 

In  the  mean  time,  he  performs  fi^w,  or  none,  of  the  great  dudci 
of  a  parent.  He  does  not  instruct:  he  does  not  govern :  he  canooC 
reprove :  he  cannot  pray  with  his  children :  he  cannot  pray/^r 
them.  t 

His  example  is  only  pernicious.  He  keeps  the  worst  hoon; 
frequents  the  worst  places ;  attaches  himself  to  the  worst  company; 
and  thus,  taking  his  children  by  the  hand,  conducts  them  to  the 
same  certain  means  of  destruction. 

His  character,  therefore,  contemptible  and  odious  in  itself,  must 
be  seen  by  them  to  be  contemptible.  Instead  of  the  privilege,  and 
blessing,  always  enjoyed  in  beholding  a -worthy,  pious,  and  vene^ 
able  father,  they  suffer  the  deplorable  calamity  of  seeing  him,  who 
#tands  in  this  anecting  relation,  a  curse  to  themselves,  and  a  nuis- 
ance to  mankind. 

II.  /  shall  now  consider  those  etils  of  Cramingj  which  tmmecKaf  ely 
respect  Ourselves. 

These  evils  are  very  numerous,  as  well  as  very  important 
The 

1 .  Which  I  shall  mention^  u,  that  it  is  a  waste  of  THmcm 

The  only  light,  in  which  Gaming  is  commonly  regarded  as  justi- 
fiable, is  tliat  ol Amusement.  Amusenients  mankind  certainly  need; 
and  what  they  need  is  Jawiul.  But  Gaming  is  not  rendered  lawfal 
by  this  consideration. 

Every  lawful  amusement  is  of  such  a  nature,  as  to  refiresh,  and 
mvigorate,  either  the  body,  or  the  mind.  But  Gaming  does  neither. 
That  it  does  not  refi:«sh  the  body  is  too  obvious  to  demand  either 
proof,  or  assertion.  Equally  certain  is  it;  that  it  does  not  refi'esh, 
nor  invigorate  the  mmd**    It  fiumishes  no  valuable  infomiation :  it 


8EB.  GXHT.]  QAlOIfO.  •  4$J 

adds  no  strength  to  the  reasoning  powers.  So  for  as  it  has  influ* 
ence  at  all,  it  wearies  the  intellectual  foculties ;  and  is  attended 
with  all  th^  fotigue,  but  with  no  part  of  the  benefit,  which  is  expe- 
rienced in  severe  study. 

It  neither  sweetens,  nor  enlivens,  the  temper.  On  the  contrary, 
it  is  a  grave,  dull,  spiritless  employment ;  at  which  almost  all  per- 
sons lose  their  cheerfulness,  and  impair  their  native  sweetness  of 
disposition ;  in  which  the  temper  is  soured ;  and  in  which  gloom 
ana  moroseness,  and  frequently  envy  and  malice,  are  not  only 
created,  but  strengthened  into  immoveable  habits.  Gamesters,  1 
know,  herd  together.  But  it  is  without  good-will,  or  social  feel- 
ings ;  and  merely  because  Gaming  makes  it  necessary.  Their 
minds  are  engrossed,  but  not  invigorated.  Their  time  is  ardently, 
and  anxiously,  but  not  cheerfully,*  employed.  They  flock  to  the 
Gaming-table,  just  as  the  hermit  and  the  thief  return  to  their  re- 
spective employments ;  because  habit  has  made  these  employments 
necessary  to  them :  although  the  hermit,  if  he  would  make  the 
experiment,  would  be  happier  in  society ;  and  the  thief,  as  an 
honest  man. 

All  the  real  pleasure  found  in  Gaming,  except  that  which  arises 
from  the  love  of  sin,  is  found  in  the  acauisition  of  money ;  or  the 
pride  of  victory,  and  the  superior  skill ;  ot  the  fortunate  chance, 
mm  which  it.  is  derived.  All  these  are  base  and  sordid  sources 
of  pleasure.  Gaming,  then,  is  not  an  useful,  and  of  course,  not  a 
justifiable,  amusement. 

In  the  mean  while,  all  the  time,  employed  in  it,  is  wasted  and 
lost.  This  loss  is  immense.  No  man  can  answer  for  it  to  his 
Maker :  no  man  can  repair  the  injury,  which  is  done  to  himself. 
It  cannot  be  too  often  said,  nor  too  strongly  realized,  that  lime  is 
the  most  valuable  of  all  things :  since  on  the  proper  employment 
of  it  depends  every  blessing,  which  we  are  capable  of  receiving. 
He,  who  wastes  it,  as  every  Gamester  does,  is  guilty  of  a  prooi- 
gality,  which  cannot  be  estimated.  All  men  are  bound  by  the 
most  solemn  obligations  to  redeem  their  time ;  that  is,  to  make 
the  most  profitable  use  of  every  day.  But  Gaming  is  profitable 
for  nothing.  For,  if  it  is  useless  as  an  amusement,  it  is  aosolutely 
useless. 

3.  Oaming  is  a  warUtm  waste  of  our  Faculties^  and  PrieMeges. 

Everv  faculty,  and  every  privilege,  was  given  to  us,  only  that 
we  might  promote  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  real  good  of  ourselves 
and  our  fellow-men.  From  labouring  alway  to  these  ends,  there 
is  no  exemption,  and  no  excuse.  Whether  ye  eat^  ordrinkj  saithA* 
Poti/,  or  whatsoever  ye  doy  do  all  to  the  Olory  of  Ood.  To  him^  who 
by  a  patient  continuance  in  well^datng^  seeks  for  glory,  honour ,  and 
immortality y  and  to  him  only,  is  promised  etemtulife.  Our  focul- 
ties  are  our  understanding,  our  afiections,  and  our  energy.  Our  ' 
privileges  are  the  means  of  education,  knowledge,  virtue,  useful- 
ness, and  eiyoyment.    But  none  of  our  foculties  is  benefited  by 


V 


^*«^^.V*w^_ 


^: 


4$%  OAMDia     .'v'- 


Gaming*  The  andentaiiding  is  not  enlarged :  ibe  ai^fections  are 
not  improved :  the  energy  is  not  invigorated :  wUle  all  these 
privileges  are,  at  the  same  time,  abased  and  thrown  away.  How 
neat  a  waste  of  what  mightv  blessings  is  here !  How  entire  a 
Snstration  of  the  end  of  our  being!  With  a  due  improvement  of 
his  feculties  and  privileges,  every  man  may  become  wise  and  vir- 
tuous. How  incalculable  is  the  difference  between  such  a  man, 
and  a  Gamester ! 

A  glorious  privilege,  the  result  of  all  those  which  have  been 
mentioned,  is  thai  of  doing  our  duiy.  But  Gaming  is  in  itself^ 
and  in  its  consequences,  an  entire  omission  of  all  duty.  With 
industry  and  economy,  the  whole  life  of  a  Gamester  is  at  war. 
His  prime  employment  cherishes,  unceasingly,  gross  appetites, 
and  gross  passions ;  and  forces  hun  to  be  a  stranger  to  Mtlf-gov' 
emmeni.  Into  the  heart  of  a  man,  engrossed  bv  schemes  of  ac- 
quiring the  property  of  his  neighbour  by  the  throwing  of  dic& 
and  the  shuffling  of  cards,  it  is  impossible,  that  hemvolenee  should 
enter.  In  acts  of  btneficenctj  hands,  which  have  so  long  been 
made  the  instruments  oi  covetousness  and  plunder,  can  never  be 
employed. 

No  Gamester  was  ever  a  man  of  jroely,  so  long  as  he  was  t 
Gamester. 

Of  no  Gamester  can  it  be  said.  Behold  he  jntyeth!  The  veij 
first  step  toward^  the  assumption  of  this  character  must  be  deep 
repentance  for  his  ctoss  and  guilty  life,  accompanied  by  an  entire 
self-abhorrence,  and  followed  oy  a  vigorous  reuMination. 

3.  Oammg  is  a  jnanion  and  wicked  vhuU  ofPmperijf. 

The  end,  for  which  our  property  was  given,  is  the  same,  to  whick 
€ur  faculties  and  privileges  are  destined.  To  this  end,  to  some 
purpose,  really  acceptable  to  God,  and  really  useful  to  ourselves 
and  others,  it  can  always  be  applied.  There  never  was  a  situa- 
tion in  which,  there  never  was  a  man  by  whom,  all  his  j»operty 
could  not  be  devoted  to  some  useful  purpose  within  his  reach. 
But  squandering  money  at  the  Guning-table  is  of  no  use  either  to 
the  loser,  or  the  winner.  If  the  loser  has  common  sense  -,  he  can 
take  no  pleasure  in  his  losses.  If  the  winner  has  common  hon- 
esty ;  he  can  take  no  pleasure  in  his  gains.  Beside  the  suffering, 
involved  in  his  immediate  losses,  the  foser  fonns  a  pernicious  haht 
of  undervaluing  property ;  and  cuts  himself  off  both  firom  doings 
and  enjoying,  Uiat  goo^  which  the  property  lost  ought  have  fMO* 
cured.  Nor  is  the  winner  more  bappil;^  affected.  From  winning 
often,  especially  when  in  straitened  circumstances,  he  soon  ac- 

Siires  fuU  confidence,  that  he  shall  win,  whenever  it  is  necessaij. 
ence  he  expends  what  he  has  gained  on  objects  of  no  value* 
^  Jfa/e  porta  male  dHahniurj^^  b  probably  a  maxim  in  every  oa* 
tioo ;  and  is  verified  by  all  human  experience. 

With  habits  of  this  nature,  we  cannot  wonder,  that  Gamestos, 
inch,  I  meaiii  as  devote  themselves  to  this  employment,  universally 


.  « 


8EB.  CtMttj^  ^  ^'>       CUkimiO*  469^ 


become  beegan.  HTeaftA,  sajs  Sohnumj  gotten  by  vimiiyj  ii  <fi- 
minished:  u^t  is,  wealth  acquired  by  vain  and  dishonest  courses 
of  life.  Drowrinessy  says  the  same  profound  observer  of  human 
life,  and  manners,  will  clothe  a  man  with  rags.  Drowtinettj  here, 
intends  that  course  of  conduct,  which,  in  opposition  to  the  steady 
energy,  and  vigorous  efforts,  of  industry,  aims  at  obtaining  a  sub-  * 
sistence  by  dishonest  and  low-minded  arts.  Such  were  the  facts 
three  thousand  years  ago.  Such  are  the  fects  at  the  present  hour. 
In  the  whole  list  of  jockeys  and  sharpers  it  is  rare,  in  this,  and. 
probably  in  all  other  countries,  that  we  find  a  man,  possessed  of 
even  moderate  property.  Those,  who  are  most  successful,  ac- 
quire such  habits  of  expense,  such  expectations  of  supplying  their  ^ 
wants  by  playing,  at  any  time,  and,  conscauendy,  sucn  a  contempt 
for  economy,  and  even  for  conunon  pruoence,  that  they  become 
poor,  of  course.  The  old  age  of  a  Gamester  is  the  cold  and 
comfortless  evening  of  a  forlorn  and  miserable  day. 

4.  Oarnmg  it  the  dtttructUm  of  Character. 

A  good  namey  says  Solotnon,  i$  better  than  great  richesj  and  loving 
favour^  than  silver  and  gold,  A  iiur,  unblemished  reputation  is 
one  of  the  chief  blessings  of  man :  one  of  his  prime  enioyments; 
one  of  his  principal  means  of  usefulness.  Without  it  ne  can  ob- 
tain neither  influence,  nor  confidence;  neither  profitable  employ- 
ments, nor  real  friends.  But  no  Gamester  was  ever  respected,  a$ 
such.  Whatever  talents,  or  advantages,  he  mav  otherwise  have 
possessed,  his  character  has  been*  always  sunk  by  his  gaming. 
Look  around  the  world,  and  judge  for  yourselves.  You  never 
knew,  and  therefore  never  wul  know,  a  Gamester,  who,  in  this 
character,  was  regarded  by  his  neighbours  with  esteenu  Common 
sense  steadily  attaches  disgrace  to  the  name.  So  conscious  dC 
Chis  fact  are  tne  whole  class  of  Gamesters,  that  jthey  usually  take 
effectual  pains  to  carry  on  their  wretched  employment  in  scenes  of 
solitude  and  secrecy,  where  they  are  effectually  hidden  finom  the 
eyes  of  mankind. 

But  who,  that  possesses  common  sobrietv^  or  even  sanity  of 
mind ;  who,  that  is  not  a  fair  candidate  for  bedlam ;  would  voluntas 
lily  destroy  the  blessings  of  hb  own  good  name  ?  The  Slanderer^ 
who  blasts  the  reputation  of  another,  is  universally,  and  justly, 
regarded  with  abhorrence.  What  the  slanderer  does  for  another. 
the  Gamester  does  for  himself.  The  slanderer  is  a  vile  ana 
abominable  wretch,  in  whit  respect  is  the  Gamester  less  vile 
and  abominable  f  The  slanderer  is  an  assassin :  the  Gamestet  is 
a  suicide. 

5.  Chtming  h  the  dinei  road  to  manjf  other  iinim 

Every  Gamester,  with  too  few  exceptions  to  deserve  notice, 
becomes  a  sharper,  of  course.  High  expectations  of  acquiring 
property  suddenly,  distressi.*ig  disappointments,  mat  gains,  ana 
great  lossi*s  instantaneously  experienced,  strong  hopes  altematec* 
with  strong  fears,  and  boUing  the  mind,  habitually,  in  a  state  o^ 


"^^ 


^'^'^tr^ 


470 .  GAlflNG. 

r 

anxioos  suspense,  regularly  prove  too  powerful  for  the  honesty  of 
eveiy  man,  who  has  not  too  much  virtue  to  be  a  Gamester.    By 
what  is  called /atr/?/ay  he  fails  of  being  successful.    A  series  of 
ill  success  tempts  him  to  play  unfairly.    Ultimately,  he  is  chained 
with  it.     He  denies  it;  and  is  thus  guilty  of  falsehood.     The 
charge  is  reiterated.    He  swears  to  the  truth  of  his  denial ;  and  is 
thus  guilty  of  perjury.    His  oath  is  doubted.    He  becomes  angry, 
profane,  and  turious ;  and  not  unfrequently  engages  in  a  quarrel, 
to  vindicate  his  wounded  honour.     At  times,  the  oispute  is  termin- 
ated by  a  duel.     In  all  ordinary  circumstances,  his  affections  be- 
come sour,  and  his  mind  envious  at  the  success  of  his  companions, 
and  malicious  towards  their  persons.    At  the  same  time,  he  is 
prompted  to  murmur  at  his  ill-success ;  to  curse  what  he  calls  his 
luck,  but  what  is  in  truth  a  dispensation  of  God ;  and  to  adopt  a 
course  of  profane,  blasphemous,  and  fiend-like  language.     To 
close  this  wretched  detail ;  the  Gamester  very  often  terminates  his 
miserable  career  with  drunkenness,  and  not  unfirequently  with  self* 
murder.    Who,  that  is  not  lost  to  every  hope  of  virtue;  who,  that 
is  not  lost  to  common  sense  and  common  feeling ;  can  be  willing  to 
thrust  himself  into  a  course  of  life,  or  into  tne  entrance  upon  a 
course  of  life,  which  presents  at  the  very  gate,  most  formidable 
temptations  to  these  enormous  sins  ?    Who  would  be  willing  that  a 
fiither,  a  husband,  a  brother,  or  a  son,  should  be  guilty  m  these 
ains,  or  exposed  to  these  temptations  ?    This  question  will,  jprob 
ably,  never  be  answered.  Will  it  then  be  said,  that  men  are  found, 
who  love  these  relations  better  than  themselves  ?    It  will  not  be 
said.    But  it  must  be  said,  because  it  is  true,  that  multitudes  of  men 
resort  to  the  Gaming-table  with  an  infantine  giddiness  of  mind ;  a 
hare-brained  spirit  of  adventure;  a  ereedy  avarice ;  and  a  treach- 
erous confidence  in  their  own  watchmlness  a^inst  temptation ;  in 
that  prudent  care,  which,  always  seen  with  microscopic  eyesj  they 
consider  as  abundandy  suflScient  to  secure  themselves  from  every 
danger.     Thus,  while  the  really  prudent  manforeseeth  the  evil,  and 
kideth  himself  J  these  nmpfe,  self-deceived  beings, /Nitf  trnjOnd  are 


From  these  considerations  it  is,  if  I  mistake  not,  evident  beyond 
debate,  that  Gaming  is  a  gross  firaod ;  that  in  many  other  points  of 
view,  it  is  an  enormous  sin;  and  that  it  is,  in  an  alarming  degree, 
fatal  to  all  the  real  interests  of  man.  There  are,  however,  persons, 
;who,  because  they  escape  some  of  the  dangers,  and  avoid  some 
of  the  iniquities,  connected  with  this  practice,  will  flatter  them- 
selves, that  they  are  scarcely  chargeable  with  the  rest.  They 
may  not  claim  the  character  of  virtue ;  but  they  will  insist,  thai 
theur  conduct  is  almost,  if  not  entirely,  innocent ;  and  will  at  least 
believe  themselves,  if  guilty  at  all,  to  be  guilty  only  in  a  very  mi- 
nate  degree.  To  these  persons  let  me  seriously  address  the  fid- 
lowing  considerations. 


In  ihe  first  place.  Gaming  it  an  apprarance  of  evil. 
Abitain  from  all  appearand  of  evil,  is  a  coiumand  of  the  same 
God,  who  said,  Thou  shall  love  the  Lord,  thy  God,  mtk  all  thy 
htart ;  and  is,  lliercfore,  armed  with  the  same  authority.  But 
every  person  of  piety,  and  almost  every  sober  man,  pronounces 
Gaming  to  be  an  evil.  It  canriol,  Uiercfore,  be  denied  to  be  an  ap- 
pearance of  evil.  By  (he  arguments  here  advanced,  it  has  been 
shown,  unless  I  am  deceived,  to  be  a  real,  and  iireadful,  evil.  That 
every  man,  therefore,  is  bound  to  abstain  fi:-om  il,  cannot  be  ques- 
tioned. 

Secondly.  Every  Gamester  feeh  it  to  be  an  evil. 
In  all  [he  early  parts  of  his  addiction  to  this  course  of  life,  he 
will  And  himself  frequently  employed,  if  he  has  any  moral  princi- 
ples at  all,  in  devising  arguments,  and  excuses,  to  quiet  his  own 
conscience,  and  justify  himself  lo  others.  This  Is  not  the  con- 
duct of  a  man,  who  feels  himself  innocent.  No  person  ever 
sought  an  excuse  for  prayer ;  for  honest  industry  ;  for  the  pious 
education  of  children;  or  for  a  faithful  allendance  on  the  public 
worship  of  God.  Most  persons,  at  the  Gaming-table,  arc  sensibly 
disturbed  by  the  unexpected  presence  of  a  wise  and  good  man. 
But  such  persons  create  no  disturbance  in  the  minds  of  those, 
who  believe  themselves  to  be  virtuously  employed.  Were  the 
Redeemer  of  mankind  agiin  upon  earth ;  no  person,  who  acknowl. 
edged  his  character,  woald  be  willing  lo  be  found  by  him  at  a 
Gaming-table. 

Thiruly.  Gaming  cannot  be  prayed  for. 

Nothing  can  be  right,  or  innocent,  for  which  we  cannot  pray. 
In  all  pursuits,  which  he  believes  to  be  justifiable,  every  man  can 
without  difficulty  ask  for  the  blessing  of  God.  But  no  man  ever 
asked,  no  man  ever  will  ask;  that  is,  seriously  and  solemnly,  or 
in  other  words,  really;  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon  the  employ- 
ment of  Gaming.  But  that,  which  cannot  be  prayed  for,  is  sinful. 
Fourthly.  Neither  Gaming,  nor  the  circitTnslanccs  lehich  regularly 
attend  it,  can  be  recited  at  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

I  call  upon  every  Gamester  solemnly  lo  consider,  whether  he 
will  be  able  to  come  before  the  Judge  of  the  quick  and  the  dead, 
and  declare  to  Him  with  confidence,  or  even  with  hope,  that  he 
has  spent  life,  or  any  part  of  it,  in  the  business  of  Gaming.  But 
the  conduct,  which  cannot  be  rehearsed  then,  cannot  be  right  now. 
Who  can  soberly  approve,  in  this  world,  of  that,  which  will  con- 
demn him  in  the  world  to  come  ? 

There  are  many  persons,  who  condemn  what  is  called  Gam- 
bling, or  Gaming  for  money,  and  who  yet  appear  lo  think  them- 
selves justified  in  Gaming  for  mere  amusement.  Let  me  exhort 
all  such  persons  lo  remember,  that  whatever  influence  this  conduct 
may  have  upon  themselves,  it  mil,  as  an  example,  be  pemtcioui  to 
etkert.  Multitudes  will  know  thai  they  game,  v.ho  will  never 
know  that  they  do  not  ^me  for  money.     Multitudes,  also,  will  be 


*^?<?*9— 


47S  QAimfa 

either  unable,  or  uninclined,  to  make  any  serious  distinction  be- 
tween these  kinds  of  conduct.  All  these  will  directly  plead  the 
example  as  a  justification  of  themselves,  or  at  least  as  a  palliatioo 
of  their  own  guilt.  This  will  peculiarly  be  the  feet,  where  the 
persons  concerned  arc  persons  of  reputation :  and,  unfortunately, 
a  considerable  number  of  those,  who  employ  themselyes  in  Gam- 
ing for  amusement,  are  of  this  character.  The  example  of  one 
such  person  will  be  pleaded  by  all  who  know  it.  Under  the 
wing  of  one  such  man,  a  multitude  of  Gamblers,  ahnost  all  of  whom 
are  without  reputation,  and  great  numbers,  low,  contemptible  be- 
ings, will  gather;  and  feel  themselves  brooded  in  safety,  and  se- 
cured from  the  dreaded  intrusions  of  public  censure.  Were 
Gambling  unfurnished  with  reputable  and  fashionable  examples,  it 
would,  I  think,  be  easily  exterminated  from  the  world.  £yeiy 
person,  possessed  of  a  generally  fair  character,  may  therefore  fed 
assured,  that,  if  he  games  for  amusement,  he  is  one  of  the  means, 
and  not  a  small  one,  of  keepine  Gambling  alive  among  mankind; 
and  that  he  contributes,  efficaciously,  to  the  existence  of  all  tbe 
sin,  and  all  the  misery,  which  it  will  produce  at  future  periods. 

To  these  observations  it  will  probably  be  replied,  "  Must  Idem/ 
myself  an  innocent  pleasure^  because  my  neighbour  is  pleased  to  mab 
a  bad  use  of  my  example  .^"    St.  Paul  has  long  since  answered  this 

auestion.     For  meat,  destroy  net  the  work  of  God.     All  things  «•• 
ted  are  pure  ;  Imt  it  is  evil  for  that  man^  who  eaieth  with  ofence* 
It  is  good  neither  to  eat  fleshy  nor  to  drink  wine^  nor  any  thing  where^ 
by  thy  brother  stumbleth^  oris  offended,  or  is  made  wecikm  Rom.  xiv. 
30,  21.     And  a^in,  1  Cor.  viii.  13,   Wherefore,  if  meat  make  nq 
brother  to  stumble,  I  will  eat  no  flesh  while  the  world  standeth  ;  lest 
I  make  my  brother  to  offend.   However  innocent  Gaming  for  amuse- 
ment may  be,  it  cannot  be  more  innocent  than  eating  flesh,  than 
doing  that,  which  the  Apostle  has  pronounced  pure.     Yet  the 
Apostle,  and  God  who  inspired  him,  have  declared,  that  whatever 
occasions  our  brother  to  stumble,  or  fall  into  sin,  it  is  good  not  to 
do,  however  innocent  it  may  be  otherwise :  and  the  Aposde  has  de- 
clsured,  that  he  would  not  do  this,  even  though  eating  fleshy  so  in- 
nocent, so  direcdy  allowed  by  God,  and  so  important  as  food  for 
man,  were  the  thing  in  question  ;  no,  not  while  the  world  stanielOu 
Nay,  he  has  further  declared  in  the  verse  preceding  that,  last  Quot- 
ed, that,  when  in  such  cases  we  wound  the  weak  conscience  of  oust 
brother,  we  sin  against  Christ.     All  this  he  declares  concerning  eat- 
ing flesh,  and  concerning  every  other  innocent  thing.     If  then  ow 
Oamingfor  amusement  be  what  it  cannot  fail  to  be,  a  cause  of  in- 
ducing others  to  Game  for  money,  to  become  Gamesters,  and  to 
fell  into  any  or  all  of  these  sins  ;  th^n  in  Gaming  for  amusement 
we  sin  against  Christ  by  wounding  the  conscience  of  our  weaker 
brethren,  and  becoming  the  direct  means  of  tempting  them  to  sin. 
The  supposition  here  made  is,  however,  false.    Gaming  for 
amusements  m  such  as  art  either  partially^  or  wholly^  Games  ^ 


SER.  CXXIV.]  GAMUfO.  473 

chance^  partictdarly  with  cards  and  dice^  is  not,  and  canno.  be  in- 
nocent* It  is,  almost  of  course,  a  sinful  waste  of  time.  As  an 
amusement  it  is  unnecessary  and  useless.  It  refreshes  neither  the 
mind,  nor  the  body ;  and  fails,  therefore,  essentially  of  being  a 
lawful  amusement.  Better  amusements  can  always  be  substituted 
for  it ;  particularly  exercise^  reading,  and  conversation^  and  among 
amusements,  as  well  as  amone  employments,  we  are  bound  to  se- 
lect the  best  in  our  power.  The  controversy,  the  hope  of  victory, 
the  reluctance  to  be  vanquished;  and,  universally,  that  continual 
state  of  suspense  and  anxiety,  always  experienced  in  Gaming ; 
have,  although  in  a  less  degree,  substantially  the  same  influence  on 
the  mind,  and  are  furnished  with  the  same  temptations,  which  are 
found  in  Gaming  for  money.  In  addition  to  these  things,  Gambg 
for  money  is  almost  always  the  consequence  of  an  -addiction  to 
Gaming  for  amusement.  The  expectation,  that  we  shall  be  able 
to  withstand  the  allurements,  by  which  others  have  fallen,  is  a 
mere  and  ruinous  presumption  ;  the  presumption  of  a  many  wise  in 
his  own  conceit;  of  whom  there  is  less  hope  than  of  a  fool.  The 
probabilities,  that  we  shall  fall  where  so  many  have  fallen,  are 
millions  to  one ;  and  the  contrary  opinion  is  only  a  dream  of  luna- 
cy. At  the  same  tune,  no  man  can  stand  up  in  his  closet,  before 
his  Maker,  and  thank  him  for  the  privilege  of  Gaming  to-day,  or 
ask  his  blessing,  to  enable  him  to  game  to-morrow. 

But  the  influence  of  example  is  abundantly  sufficient  to  prove 
the  sinfulness  of  Gaming  for  amusement.  Call  to  mind  the  extent, 
to  which  this  evil  has  spread.  Think  what  amazing  multitudes 
have  been  corrupted,  distressed,  and  ruined,  by  it  for  this  world, 
and  that  which  is  to  come.  Think  how  many  femilies  have  been 
plunged  by  it  in  besrgary,  and  overwhelmed  by  it  in  vice.  Think 
now  many  personsXave  become  liars,  at  the  Gaming-table  ;  how 
many  perjured ;  how  maiw  drunkards ;  how  many  blasphemers  ; 
how  many  suicides,  "/r  JEuropc,"  said  Montesquieu^  "tt  to  be 
ruined;  it  will  be  ruinea  btf  Gaming.^^  Remember,  that,  unless 
persons  of  reputation  gamed  for  amusement,  persons  without  le* 
putation  woula  soon  cease  to  game  for  money.  Then  call  to  mind, 
that  your  example  is  one  of  the  means,  which  produce  all  these 
evils,  and  continue  the  practice,  together  with  its  miserable  conse- 
quences, in  the  world.  Remember,  that  you  set  the  snare,  spread 
me  corruption,  and  effectuate  the  ruin ;  that  you  help  to  fill  the 
world  witn  wretchedness  and  sin,  and  both  allure,  and  lead,  your 
fellow-men  to  final  perdition.  With  these  plain  and  solemn  truths 
in  full  view,  look  up  to  God ;  and,  if  you  can,  declare  dbat  there 
is  no  sin  in  Gaining  for  Amusement. 


m.  so 


^^v=*v. 


A 


SERMON  CXXV* 


■nrTB  COMM AVDMSVT. — THE  NATURE  AlTD  IMPORTAVCB  OF  TRUTI 

AND  y  BR  AC  ITT. 


KioDVt  IS.  Id.— IVii  ikaU  n&i  bem'fiUt  wUnmtgllmiUilf  ad|gA&MR 

The  preceding  Command  was  iatended  to  securef'  ^tttie$  to 
mankind :  this  was  intended  to  estabKsh  TnUlu 
The  word  Truth  denotes,  among  other  things, 

I.  Such  DeclarationSj  a$  art  accordant  with  the  real  state  of 
thing t: 

3*  That  iivisian  of  TVuA,  which  id  called  Morale  or  Evangelical : 

3.  Veractty  ^  or  a  disposition  to  speak  Thsth : 

4.  Faithfulness ;  or  a  disposition  to  fulfil^  exactly^  PramisUf 
Trusts^  and  Covenants* 

Under  this  Command  are  properly  ranged  the  following  Sok 
jects. 
L  Truths 

II.  lyin^^ 

III.  Perjurtf }  and 

IV.  Slander. 

These  I  propose  to  consider  in  the  order  specified* 
The  first  of  them,  viz.  Tmthy  shall  occupy  tne  present  discourse. 
In  examining  it,  it  is  my  design  to  consider  the  jtature  and  ImpW' 
tance  of  Truthj  and  the  Importance  of  Veracity. 
Concerning  the  former  of  these  Subjects  I  observe, 
1.  That  Truth  is  an  account  of  the  real  state  of  things. 
Mathematical  TnUl^  is  an  account  of  the  real  state  of  Number, 
and  Quantity,  together  with  their  various  relations ;  Philosophical 
Truth,  understood  in  the  natural  sense,  of  Material  bodies,  and 
their  operations ;  and  Moral  Trulh,  of  Intelligent  beings,  their  re- 
lations, their  duties,  and  their  actions. 

The  real  state  of  things  is  that,  with  which  only  we  have  any 
concern :  and  with  this  our  concern  is  infinite.  In  the  present 
world,  so  far  as  the  present  world  is  concerned,  our  whole  interest 
is  involved  in  the  real  state  of  ourselves,  our  business,  and  the 
knbjjects  of  it ;  our  families,  our  country,  and  mankind.  The  cd- 
lection  of  truths,  which  we  receive  concerning  these  and  other 
lubjects,  is  what  is  called  knowledge :  our  guide  to  all  that  con* 
duct,  which  may  be  useful  to  us,  and  our  security  against  that, 
which  may  be  noxious.  The  truth,  that  bread  is  wholesome  food, 
enables  us  to  eat  it  with  safety.  A  fiailsehood,  in  this  case,  might 
lead  ua  to  swallow  poison.    A  knowledge  of  the  true  state  of  our 


\'>- 

■SB.  CXZV.]  THE  NATURSy  ^'      ^^  .  475 

fsurmsj  and  of  agriculture,  enables  us  to  cultmite  our  farms  with 
profit.  A  knowledge  of  the  real  state  of  the  markets,  enables  us 
to  trade  with  safety  and  success*  A  knowledge  of  the  real  char- 
acters of  men,  enables  us  to  choose  those,  who  will  be  our  real 
friends ;  and  secures  us  from  inviting  to  our  friendship  base  and 
treacherous  men.  Misapprehension  in  these  respects,  would  ruin 
both  our  business  and  ourselves. 

In  the  Moral  World,  the  truth  cunpeminjg  God,  his  pleasure,  our- 
selves, the  relatiiM  wliich  we  sustain  to  him  and  to  each  other,  and 
the  duties  spriD|SA*feK>m  these  relations,  enables  us  to  obey  him ; 
to  become  blessinn  to  each  other ;  and  to  obtain  the  blessings 
of  immortality.  Jidsehood,  in  these  respects,  would  lead  us  in- 
finitely astray.  False  apCMhensions  of  God  have  led  a  great 
part  of  mankind  to  worship  devils,  men,  beasts,  trees,  stocks,  and 
stones ;  to  mistake  sin  for  virtue,  and  ruin  for  safety.  No  man 
ever  dreamed,  that  his  interests  lay  in  the  regions  of  fiction,  or 
that  his  sober  correspondence  should^  be  earned  on  with  fairies 
and  eenii.  But  the  man,  who  embraces  falsehood,  and  is  gov- 
erned by  it,  places  his  interests,  so  fiau*,  in  a  world  equally  vis- 
ionary ;  and  corresponds  not  with  real  beings,  but  with  crea- 
tures of  fancy.  As  happiness  can  never  come  to  us  from  the 
regions  of  fiction,  or  tneir  imaginary  inhabitants;  so  happiness 
never  sprang,  and  never  will  spnne,  from  false  views  of  the  real 
world,  and  its  real  inhabitants.  Our  only  connexion  with  these 
objects  is  through  the  medium  of  truth,  or  the  knowledge  of  the£r 
real  state. 

2.  Truth  19,  m  itself y  a  rich  source  of  Enjcymeni. 

By  this  I  intend,  that  it  is  an  object  immediately  enjoyed ;  and 
that,  when  presented  to  the  mind,  it  communicates  pleasure  of 
course. 

Fiction  may  be,  in  this  sense,  and,  I  acknowledge,  often  is,  a 
source  of  real  enjoyment  to  die  mind.  God,  to  raise  our  views  to 
a  better  world  than  that  which  has  been  ly^ined  by  our  apostacy, 
and  to  awaken  in  us  desires  for  a  nobler  happiness  than  any  which 
this  world  supplies,  has  made  us  capable  ot  forming  many  delight- 
fiil  objects  in  our  imagination ;  manj,  which  are  beautiful ;  many, 
which  are  sublime;  and  many,  which  are  wonderful.  On  these 
the  mind  rests  with  pleasure,  during  short  periods ;  especially  in 
youth ;  and,  so  long  as  they  are  regarded  as  objects  of  imagina- 
tion merely,  they  are  sources  of  pleasure,  which  may  be  really 
enjoyed,  and  to  a  considerable  extent.  But  when  any  fiction 
is  changed  into  a  falsehood ;  when  it  ceases  to  be  an  object  of  the 
imagination,  and  becomes  an  object  of  belief;  it  is  always,  soon- 
er or  later,  a  source  of  suffering,  and  not  of  enjoyment*  Even  in 
the  character  of  fiction,  it  gradually  loses  its  power  to  please. 
As  we  advance  in  years,  Uie  love  of  Truth,  <:onsiderea  as  a 
source  of  pleasure  merely,  takes  its  place ;  and  the  mind  seeki 


^^*v*=»^-- 


I7Q  THE  NA'TIJRE'AHD  IMPORTANCE  pKB^CXXf. 

fcnr  enjoyment  in  knowledge,  and  not  in  thie  exercises  of  imag- 
ination. 

But  Truth  is  always  capable  of  yinlding  more  delieht  to  the 
mind,  than  fiction :  or,  in  other  words,  intellectnal  enjojment  is 
always  capable  of  being  superior  to  that,  which  flows  m  by  the 
foncy.     The  actual  state  of  thines,  which  God  has  made,  is,  in 
every  respect,  more  beautiful,  glorious,  and  desirable,  than  any 
which  the  mind  can  imagine,    bvery  person,  who  understands  the 
modes,  in  which  the  mind  is  actively  endployed  in  forming  complex 
ideas,  whether  of  the  Intellect,  or  the  Imagination,  knows,  that 
all  such  ideas  are  made  out  of  those,  which  it  receives  from  objects 
really  existing.    These  it  can  compound,  and  compare ;  but  can 
add  to  them  nothing,  but  what  it  nas  already  perceived.    Nev 
beauty,  new  sublimity,  new  loveliness,  it  can  form  only  by  bring- 
ing together,  in  new  unions,  the  perception  of  beauty,  sublimity, 
and  loveliness,  which  it  has  derived  either  from  the  actual  state 
of  things,  or  from  Revelation.     In  the  objects  formed  by  the  fon- 
cy,  therefore,  there  can  be  nothing,  in  degree,  more  sublime, 
bMeautiful,  or  lovely,  than  that,  which  it  has  already  received. 
In  conformity  with  these  observations,  no  object  was  ever  de- 
scribed by  the  pen  of  man,  so  as  to  make  the  impression  of  sub- 
limity equally  with  the  object  itself.    No  images  in  human  writ- 
ings were  ever  so  sublime,  as  those  of  Inspiration.    No  character, 
■Jymed  by  the  imagination,  was  ever  to  be  compared  with  that  of 
TShrist. 
^.      When  I  speak  of  the  actual  stale  of  things,  which  God  has 
made,  as  in  every  respect  more  beautiful,  glonous,  and  desirable, 
than  any,  which  the  mind  can  imagine,  I  mean  the  whole  state  ol 
things.    The  Universe  is  a  single  system.     Every  thing,  belong- 
ing to  it,  is  a  necessary,  and  proper,  part  of  the  system :  such  a 
part,  as  Infinite  Wisdom  thought  it  best  to  make;  and,  there- 
fore such,    as  was  more  desirable,  than  any  thing  else,  in  its 
place.    The  whole,  taken  together,  is  a  f)erfect  system :  the  re- 
sult of  the  perfect  views  of  the  All-Perfect  Mind.     In  such  a 
sense  is  it  perfect,  that  it  is  truly  said,  Jehovah  shall  rejoice  in  hU 
Works:  that  is,  because  all,  united,  are  such,  as  to  accomf&h,  to 
the  utmost,  the  good  pleasure  of  his  boundless  Wisdom.    The 
Truth  concerning  this  system,  or  the  knowledge  of  its  real  state, 
will  for  ever  delight^  as  well  as  enlarge,  the  mmds  of  vutuous  and 
immortal  beings. 

In  the  present  world,  imperfect,  prejudiced,  and  narrow,  as  oar 
minds  are,  the  exhibitions  of  Truth  concerning  this  subject  in  the 
Scriptures,  are  not  only  superior  to  every  thing,  conceived  by  the 
human  imagination,  but  more  delightful  to  every- virtuous  being; 
move  delightful  beyond  comparison,  as  well  as  superior  beyond 
degree.  The  Character  of  God ;  the  Mediation  of  tne  Redeemer; 
the  Agency  of  the  Divine  Spirit ;  the  dispensations  of  infinite  me^ 
cj ;  the  restoration  of  sinners  to  virtue  and  happiness ;  the  con- 


.]  Ct  THDTH  AKD  rWMkCtlt:  477 

suoimatioD  of  all  things;  the  blessmes  of  immortality;  the  glory 
of  Heaven ;  and  the  future  union  of  sanctified  minds  in  that  de- 
lightful world ;  leave  out  of  sight,  and  out  of  remembrance,  all  the 
creations  of  Poetry ;  all  the  splendid  excursions  of  Imagination* 
hUo  these  thingSj  Jlngeh  desirer  to  look.  All  those,  whose  minds 
are  attuned  to  the  disposit*  >n  of  Angels,  love  to  follow  them  in 
this  divine  employment.  Nay,  God  Himself  regards  this  combi* 
nation  of  wonderful  objects  as  a  slorious  picture,  an  illustrious 
emanation,  of  his  own  Wisdom,  which  he  beholds  for  ever  with 
the  smiles  of  infinite  complacency. 

3.    That  great  division  (^  Truth,  which  is  called  Moral,  or 
*   Evangelical  Truth,  is,  in  an  important  sense,  the  foundation  of  aU 
Virtue. 

Sanctify  them  through  thy  TruHh!  thy  Word  is  truth:  said  our 
Saviour  in  his  intercessory  prayer,  John  xvii.  17.  Of  his  owm 
''will  htffat  He  us,  with  the  Word  of  Truth,  James  i.  17.  The  Truth, 
said  Christ  to  the  Jews,  shall  mcuce  you  free.  From  these  declara* 
tions  it  is  completely  evident,  that  Evangelical  Truth  is  the  means 
of  that  mighty  change  in  the  human  soul,  by  which,  according  to 
the  strong  language  of  the  Scriptures,  it  is  turned  from  darkness  tin- 
to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  Ood. 

The  Law  of  the  Lord,  says  David,  is  perfect,  converting  the  soul. 
But  the  Law  of  God  is  nothing  but  Trutn,  communicated  in  the 
perceptive  form.  All  its  influence  on  the  soul  is  derived  bct^, 
this  fact :  and,  were  it  not  conformed  to  Truth,  or  were  it,  in  otb^^ 
er  words,  founded  on  falsehood,  its  moral  influence  would  cease* 
Particularly,  its  influence  to  produce  this  conversion  would  be 
annihilated.  Truth,  then,  is,  in  this  point  of  view,  of  just  as 
much  importance  to  the  happiness  of  mankind,  and  to  the  glory 
of  God,  as  the  salvation  of  all  the  millions,  who  have  been,  or  wiU 
be,  saved. 

Falsehood,  or  error,  has,  in  the  mean  time,  never  had  the  least 
influence  towards  the  accomplishment  of  this  glorious  purpose* 
From  the  erroneous  moral  systems  of  men,  no  individual  ever 

S lined  the  least  tendency  towards  real  virtue.  Truths,  indeed, 
ese  systems  have  always  involved :  and  the  influence  of  these 
truths  has  so  far  been  felt  by  mantdnd,  as  to  prompt  them  to 
many  commendable  actions,  and  to  prevent  them  fix>m  becoming 
as  aoandoned,  as  they  would  otherwise  have  been.  The  errorsi 
which  they  containe<l,  have,  so  &r  as  they  were  believed,  been 
the  means  of  sin  only.  Of  cordial  and  thorough  reformation  they 
have  been  absolutely  barren.  Truth  and  Falsehood  have  been 
blended  in  them  with  such  confusion,  as  to  be  inseparable  by  the 
men  who  embraced  them,  without  very  difierent  efibrts  firom  ^ 
those,  which  they  have  been  inclined,  and  in  most  cases  able,  Co 
make.  They  have,  therefore,  been  swallowinl  whole ;  and  luive 
produced  just  such  efiects,  as  a  mind,  enlightened  by  Revelation,^ 
could  not  fail  to  foresee.     ErrcNr  became  the  predominating  rule  of 


^^^♦'i*-^ 

5   V^y 


47g  1BBNA1imEiAlfI>tIlir€MB41iCaB  [Bfl^.CIIV. 

action  to  all  their  votaries ;  and  the  Truth  was  duefly  lost,  and 
foi^otten. 

but  Moral  Truth  is  not  merely  a  rule,  to  teach  us  what  Virtue 
is,  and  to  euide  us  ultimately  to  this  glorious  attainment.  To  dis- 
cern it  wi£  the  understandmg,  and  to  welcome  it  to  the  heart,  is 
virtue  itself,  as  existing  in  the  soul ;  and,  when  carried  out  into  acp 
lion,  conformed  also  to  its  dictates,  is  all,  which  is  included  in  the 
name  of  Virtue*  In  other  words,  Virhu  is  nothings  iui  volunimy 
^Aedienee  to  truth. 

Error,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  foundation  of  all  iniquity.  It 
leads  the  soul  only  away  from  duty,  from  virtue^  from  salvation, 
and  from  God.  To  the  Divine  Kingdom  it  is  only  hostile.  To 
the  Reformation,  and  happiness,  of  man,  it  is  ruinous.  It  promotei 
10  cause,  but  that  of  Satan :  it  forms  no  character,  but  that  of  Sis. 
AH  the  just  definitions  of  Sin  are  involved  in  this :  that  it  it  natkmgj 
hui  voluntary  obedience  to  Error*  - 

In-  the  mean  time,  all  the  Motion  ioVvrUu  are  found  in  the  gene- 
-rel  system  of  Truth :  as  all  the  motives  to  sin  are  found  in  syi- 
tems  of  Error.  Error  contains  nothing  in  it,  to  prompt  us  to  obej 
God,  to  perform  our  duty,  or  to  seek  the  salvation  of  ourselres 
and  others.  As  a  Motive,  or  combination  of  motives.  Error  con- 
tains nothing,  but  inducements  to  sin ;  and  Truth  nothing,  bat  in- 
ducements to  holiness.  In  all  these  important  particulars,  Trath 
is  the  basis  of  Virtue. 

It  cannot  be  thought  strange,  then,  that  Love,  or  Evangelical 
excellence,  or  in  other  words,  real  Virtue,  should  rejoice  oi  (ii 
Truth;  that  Holiness  should  be  styled  by  St.  Paul,  hoKnus  ^ 
Truth ;  or  that  thoet^  who  know  not  God^  and  obey  not  the  Go^elf 
or  Truth,  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  should  be  classed  together  in 
the  ruin  of  the  Pinal  Day. 

By  these  views  of  the  Importance  ot  Truth,  we  are  natnraHj 
led  to  the  second  subject  of  discourse,  viz.  Veracity. 

The  Importance  o/*  Verocily  will  suflBiciendy  appear  from  the  fol- 
lowing Considerations. 

1  •  Almost  all  the  Truth,  which  we  know,  we  derive  from  Comfin** 
nication;  and,  ofcoursej  almost  all  the  benefits  of  Trutk^  midckws 
enjoy. 

A  man,  deprived  of  the  conunnnication  of  others,  and  left  wbot 
Iv  to  his  own  observation,  would  possess  litde  more  knowkdJEe 
than  a  brute.  It  would  be  no  easy  matter  to  explain  how  Ee 
could  subsist.    If  ?Fe  suppose  him  to  subsist  through  the  ordinaij 

Criod  of  human  life;  it  is  certain,  that  he  would  Jknow  nothipc^  1 
side  his  own  feelings ;  and  the  little  number  of  objects,  whid 
iisin  under  his  observation.  Even  of  these  he  would  rather  fom 
ideas,  than  possess  knowledge.  Of  the  relations  between  them  he 
must  remain  almost  absolutely  ignorant.  Nor  would  he  easily  ac* 
^uire  the  skill,  necessarv  to  construct  even  the  simplest  proposi- 
tions.   Still  less  would  he  be  able  to  leasoo,  to  illustialew  and  to 


flDL'CKV.]  -'  'f^  IBDTH  KKD  ▼BUCRf.  47f 

prove.  In  a  word|  his  mind  would  risei  in  very  few  things,  abort 
that  of  a  dog,  or  an  elephant;  while,  in  almost  all,  he  would  ftll 
br  below  them. 

As  he  would  know  scarcely  any  thing  concerning  the  present 
world ;  so,  it  is  plain,  he  would  know  nothing  of  the  world  to 
come*  Of  God,  of  duty,  of  virtue,  and  of  immortality,  he  would 
not  form  a  single  idea.  Nor  could  he,  without  manifest  improprie- 
ty, be  styled  a  rational  being.  How  could  such  a  man  enjoy  the 
benefits  of  Truth  at  all  f 

The  difference  between  this  man  as  an  intelligent  being,  and 
Aeolon,  Berkeljfj  or  Lociuj  is  made  by  Communication.  The  mass 
of  ideas,  accumulated  by  an  individual,  is  communicated  toothers; 
tad  those  of  a  preceding  generation,  to  the  generation  which  fid- 
lows.  By  the  labours  of  many  individuals,  and  in  the  progrestrlqf 
successive  generations,  the  knowledge,  formed  out  of  these  ideai| 
has  increas^  to  that  heisht,  and  extent,  which  exists  at  the  pre- 
sent period.  Every  kina  of  business,  art,  and  science,  has  been 
thus  Drought  to  the  perfection  in  which  we  possess  it;  and  all  the 
benefits,  which  these  things  confer  upon  the  present  race  of  man- 
kind, are  derived  solely  (rom  communication.  For  our  knowledge 
of  the  future  World,  we  are  indebted  wholly  to  conmiunications 
firom  God.  To  the  same  source  we  are  indebted  for  the  chief 
knowledge,  which  we  possess  concerning  the  Moral  system.  ■  All 
this  knowledge  is,  indeed,  contained  in  the  Scriptures :  yet  a  part  of 
it  may  be,  and  has  been,  acquired  without  their  assistance.  To  this 
knowledge  we  are  indebted  for  the  direction,  comfort,  and  hope, 
which  we  enjoy  in  the  character  of  moral  beings ;  as  we  are  to 
natural  knowledge  for  the  necessaries,  and  conveniences,  of  the 
present  life.  To  communication,  therefore,  we  owe  almost  every 
thing,  whether  present  or  fiiture,  which  can  be  called  desirable. 

But  the  whole  value,  the  whole  usefulness,  of  communication,  it 
derived  solely  from  the  truths  which  it  conveys.  False  informa- 
tion can  be  of  no  use  to  us.  As  our  own  concern  lies  with  the 
real  state  of  things ;  and  the  good,  or  evil,  which  we  are  to  enjoyi . 
or  suffer,  i^  dependent  on  our  knowledge  of  that  state,  and  the  con- 
duct, dictated  by  this  knowledge ;  it  is  evident,  that  the  informa- 
tion which  leads  us  to  conceive  erroneously  of  the  things  with  which 
we  are  connected,  will  both  hinder  us  from  the  acquisition  of  gopd, 
and  expose  us  to  the  sufferance  of  evil.  The  measures,  bv  which 
we  design  to  acquire  good,  and  to  avoid  evil,  will,  in  both  cases, 
«ail  of  meir  effect ;  because,  being  founded  on  erroneous  appre* 
hensions,  diey  will  be  unsuited  to  the  existing  state  of  things,  and 
therefore  to  the  accomplishment  of  the  intended  purpose.  If  we 
are  fekely  informed  of  business,  we  shall  conduct  it  unhappily; 
if  of  the  markets,  we  shall  buy  and  sell  with  loss ;  if  of  our  duty, 
we  shall  perform  it  amiss,  or  not  at  all ;  if  of  the  means  of  salva* 
tibn,  we  shall  fail  of  it ;  if  of  the  character  and  pleasure  of  Ood« 
we  shall  offend  him  in  all  our  attempted  services.   Thus  it  is  plaiiii 


'I 


410  THE  HATOBB  ilND  QIFOBTAIIGB  pEE.Cm, 

that  all  the  benefits  of  Communication  are  dependent  on  its  tnitk; 
and  that  almost  every  benefit  of  truth,  experienced  by  lattoml 
beings,  is  derived  fix>m  their  mutual  veracity. 

3.  VeracUy  is  the  (mly /(mndatum  of  Canjidencem 

Confidence  is  the  great  bond  of  Society  among  IntelUgent  k- 
ings.  Intelligent  creatures  are  supremely  dejpendent  on  their  Cret- 
tor,  and|  to  a  vast  extent^  on  eacn  other.  From  Him,  ultimstdji 
they  derive  all  the  good,  which  they  enjoy :  and  without  his  pe^ 
petual  protection,  and  blessing,  they  must  not  only  be  miservile, 
out  must  perish.  A  great  part  of  these  blessings  He  has  Ix«i 
pleased  to  communicate  to  us  through  the  instrumentality,  and 
agency,  of  his  rational  creatures.  To  them,  immediately,  we  ait 
indebted  for  blessings,  innumerable  in  their  multitude,  incaloolabk 
in  their  importance,  and  indispensable  to  our  daily  safety,  peace 
and  comfort,  and  not  unfi*equently  to  the  continuance  of  our  lives 
So  numerous,  and  so  continual,  are  these  blessings,  that  they  aie 
generally  regarded  as  things  of  course ;  and  pass  by  us,  unoodc- 
ed,  and  unseen. 

Ori^nally,  all  these  blessings  are  unpossessed  by  us :  all  of  thai 
firom  time  to'  time  being  future.  It  is  necessary,  therefore,  that  we 
should  provide  for  the  acquisition  of  them  by  such  means  as  are 
in  our  power.  As  for  almost  all  of  them  we  must  be  indebted  to 
the  agency  of  others ;  we  are  compelled,  unavoidab/y,  to  rely  oa 
their  engagements  to  supply  them.  Here  the  field  opens,  in  iriiick 
confidence  is  to  be  exercised;  and  almost  at  our  very  entrance  in- 
to life,  it  becomes  boundless.  We  are  obliged  to  trust  to  narentii 
and  others,  for  protection,  food,  raiment,  and  ionumerabl^  other 
things,  indispensable  to  our  subsistence,  as  well  as  our  comfixt, 
firom  infancy  to  manhood.  The  oflSces,  for  which  we  rely,  are 
necessary,  and  are  rendered ;  the  benefits  are  indispensable,  and 
are  communicated ;  every  day,  hour,  and  moment.  Confidence  ii 
thus  difiused  every  where,  and  at  all  times.  We  trust  as  natinal- 
ly,  and  unceasingly,  as  we  breathe ;  and  with  as  litde  conscious- 
ness of  the  faict.  In  the  same  manner  is  the  same  confidrace  ex- 
tended through  life ;  exercised  every  moment ;  placed,  in  a  mater 
or  less  degree,  on  every  person,  with  whom  we  correspooQ ;  and 
employed  about  every  object,  with  which  we  have  any  concern. 
If  we  could  not  confide ;  we  should,  in  a  sense,  know  nothing,  ac- 
quire nothing,  and  do  nothing,  to  anv  valuable  purpose. 

Equallv  indebted  are  we  to  confidence  for  almost  the  whole  of 
our  happiness.  The  emotion  is  delightful  in  itself,  and  indispens- 
able to  every  other  deliehtfiil  emotion.  It  is  equally  pleasant  to 
trus^t,  and  to  be  trusted,  rfo  supposable  union  of  esteem  and  good- 
will is  more  pleasing,  more  elevated,  and  more  refined*  Acoord- 
uiglyy  it  is  thus  regarded  by  those,  who  exercise  it,  and  bf 
those,  towards  whom  it  is  exercised.  Parents  are  never  more 
delighted}  than  in  the  entu^  confidence  of  their  children.    (3i3- 


'4 


flKR.  CUV.]  OP  TBim  AND  VKRAGRT.  431 

dren  are  never  more  happy,  than  when  they  entirely  confide  in 
their  parents. 

Equally  necessary  is  confidence  to  the  existence,  and  operations, 
of  government*  Indeed,  Government,  without  it,  would  be  a  nullity. 
Even  the  despot  himself  must  rely  on  a  numerous  train  of  agents  \ 
for.  the  accomplishment  of  his  purposes*    Without  their  co-opera« ; 
tton,  he  could  do  nothing  towards  the  control  of  his  subjects,  be- 1 
yond  what  he  could  accomplish  by  his  own  physical  strength.  Ac-i 
cordingly,  he  is  always  compelled  to  buy  the  assistance  of  suck' 
agents  with  extensive  gratuities  of  wealth  and  honour,  as  well  as , 
to  force  it  by  terror. 

Virtuous  Rulers,  who  govern  a  free  people  by  hws,  and  by  in- 
fluence, stand  only  on  the  mutual  confidence  of  themselves  and 
their  subjects.  Wimdraw  this  confidence ;  and  the  Government  is 
annihilated  at  once.  The  Rulers  become  powerless,  and  the  So- 
ciety is  lost  in  anarchy. 

A  state  of  absolute  distrust  is  a  state  of  absolute  misery*  Like 
the  cold  hand  of  death.  Distrust  would  dissolve  the  whole  firame 
and  texture,  of  the  social  body ;  the  joints  and  the  ligaments, 
the  energy  and  the  life.  A  country  could  no  longer  contain  its 
inhabitants;  nor  even  the  den  its  banditti.  Such  a  state  of 
things  in  this  world  has,  hitherto,  never  existed  in  the  absolute 
sense. 

Without  confidence,  God  himself  would  cease  to  be  the  Moral 
Governor  of  Intelligent  creatures.  As  I  have  elsewhere  consi- 
dered this  subject ;  it  will  be  the  less  necessary  to  insist  upon 
it  here.  Still,  a  few  observations  concerning  it  cannot  be  im- 
proper. 

It  is  clear,  even  to  a  verv  limited  and  obtuse  apprehension,  that, 
without  confidence  in  a  ruler,  voluntary  obedience  can  never  ex- 
ist ;  that,  without  voluntary  obedience,  God  can  never  be  pleased 
with  his  Intelligent  creatures ;  since  no  other  can  be  honourable 
to  Him ;  and  that,  without  the  same  obedience,  those  creatures 
can  never  be  amiable  in  his  sight ;  since  no  other  can  render  them 
virtuous.  Distrust  is  an  absolute  separation  of  those  beines,  in 
whom  it  exists,  from  those,  towards  whom  it  is  exercised.  A  beine 
distrusted  can  never  be  loved,  reverenced,  nor  voluntarily  obeyed. 
Of  such  obedience,  confidence  is  the  commencement,  the  soul,  and 
the  substance.  But.  where  there  is  no  truth  in  the  ruler,  there  can 
be  no  confidence  iq  the  subject.  However  great,  however  know-  . 
ing,  the  Divine  Ruler  might  be  supposed,  or  perceived  to  be ;  hiii  ' 
greatness  and  knowledge  would,  unless  accompanied  by  veracity, 
only  inspire  suspense  and  terror ;  suspense  and  terror  pervading 
the  Inteili^nt  Universe,  distracting  every  heart,  and  filline  every 
world  with  agitation  and  anguish.  Omnipotence  would,  indeed, 
enable  him  to  compel  an  external  conformity  to  his  Pleasure ;  but 
the  obedience  rendered  would  be  the  obedience  of  slaves,  and  not 
of  children.    It  is  a  plain  moral  impossibility,  that  a  Being  without 

Vol.  III.  61 


'A 


vcndly  tbodd  be  Ktpected  or  lored.  HoweTw  mat  and  spkaF 
did  an  earthly  Ruler  may  be ;  however  successful  in  hit  deaiapi: 
ibowever  magDificent  in  his  mode  of  Iivin|( ;  however  dislinguiaea 
jht  ii$  talents ;  and  however  liberal  in  his  largesses ;  he  would,  if 
%  liar,  be  still  a  base  and  contemptible  being*  Falsehood  in  m 
Infinite  Being  would  render  him  infinitely  fsontenytible>  Even  tht 
(ienevolence  of  the  Gospel,  without  T^th,  (if  it  were  posaible  la 
-  aaparate  them)  would  oe  changed  into  a  kind  of  amiaUe  wcab 
mtBM ;  a  siUy,  wavering  good  nature,  and  would  cease  to  riMnmsad 
lespect* 

A  Ruler,  without  truth,  could  offer  no  motives  to  Us  8llbjec|[^ 
idiich  ccmld  induce  them  to  obey.  Should  he  enact  laws,  pramiae 
pewards,  and  threaten  penalties;  it  would  be  very  unceitaii 
whether  the  law  prescribe  the  conduct,  which  would  be  amcaUt 
to  him ;  whether  the  rewards  would  be  eiven  to  such  as  fiithfiiBf 
obeyed ;  or  whether  the  penalties  would  oe  inflicted  on  such  asdi^ 
obeyed.  Whatever  he  promised ;  whatever  he  threatened }  no 
reliance  could  be  placea  on  his  declarations  $  and  they  oook^ 
therefore,  hold  out  no  motives  to  obedience*  ^t  a  moral  govern- 
ment  is  a  government  operating  by  motives ;  and  withoiU  nodvn 
cannot  exist. 

Thus  it  is  completely  evident,  that  the  Kingdom  of  God,  or  iii 
Government  of  tne  Intelligent  Universe,  rests  upcm  Truth,  as  its 
fiMindatioo* 

3*  Veraeiijf  it  ike  90ure€  ofnuiUnuMe  Pertanml  g09d» 

Veraciljf  it  the  firtt  constituent  of  an  konourahUj  emd  emmefm 
fmTj  npuiatum.  A  bad  man,  who  is  known  always  to  speak  tratk, 
will  always  command  a  considerable  share  of  respect ;  but  a  liar 
it  despised  of  course.  So  contemptible  is  falsehood,  that  to  charge 
9BJ  man  with  this  vice  is  universally  regarded  as  the  last  affitmt, 
wmch  scorn  and  ill-nature  are  able  to  offer;  as  an  injury,  for 
#hich  an  atonement  can  scarcely  be  made* 

VttAoMl  Feracttv,  RrlMc,  as  has  been  heretofore  remarked,  cm  m 
M  eeme  exiet.  To  the  existence  of  virtue,  then,  in  our  own  mindS| 
Veracity  is  indispensable* 

Equally  inJUepemabU  u.  it  to  Self-mrobatimu  Consdeace,  likt 
God,  always  delights  in  truth ;  and  always  approves  cMf  speaking 
truth*  This  approbation  it  faith&Uy,  and  invariably,  whispers  la 
the  soul*  Few  emovmenU  can  be  compared  with  self-approha- 
tion.  It  is  delightnu ;  it  is  foil  of  peace,  comfort,  and  hope ;  it  is 
independent  of  time  and  accident,  of  friends  and  eacBiies.  lU 
world  eanmi  give  it :  the  world  cannot  IsJkt  it  SMy. 

Conscience,  on  the  other  hand,  abhors  a  he)  and  soleainlT,  and 
dnadfully,  reproaches  the  Liar.  Wherever  falsdrnxl  is  lovcd^ 
tnd  uttered.  Conscience  pierces  the  sool  with  stiaga  of  agony;  and 
koklsup  to  the  culprit  a  dreadfiil  mirror,  by  whica  all  hiadefcna* 
ky  and  euilt  are  forced  upon  his  view*  The  teirible  lUceness  he  ia 
fanpiflad  to  own.    Ai  tbe  a^  of  this  awfol  imagp  he  tnmUes 


dxv^  Of  mm' AMD  vubmstt.  iiH 

ftlten ;  and'  reluctantly,  bat  iiresiitibly,  sbks  beneatb  the  pmiMli^ 
ttrel  of  his  nature. 

Fertfaly  it  ike  ioureej  aUo,  ofaUpernmalDigmhi.  There  is  ii# 
dignity  without  consistency  of  character.  A  merel?  ficklei  disn^ 
aiUe  man,  although  intentionally  sincere,  is  at  the  best,  but  a  meva 
tfifler ;  and  can  never  be  the  subject  of  real  respectability.  Montl^ 
inconsistency  is  still  more  hostile  to  dignity.  The  subject  of  it  ji& 
to  every  eye,  not  only  contemptible,  but  odioufc  To  himsd^* 
nrticalarly,  he  appears  of  necessity  base  and  dtapitiMe ;  and  it' 
meed  to  (eel,  that  oy  his  own  crimes  he  has  soiAl^  hiBself  below 
the  proper  character  and  rank  of  man. 

VtmcUy  makti  us  like  to  OoJU  This  glorious  Being  styiiir 
himself  a  OodofTnOh;  and  declares  it^to  be  impossible,  that  Ikt 
sHould  lie.  Truth  is  the  moral  immutability  of  Asi  chatacteiS  aflnd 
tife  moral  consistency  of  finite  intelligences.  Him,  Truth  surrouDdr 
Hith  dignit}[  infitiite.  Them,  it  exalts  to  a  resenblanee  of  HfaiiL'« 
which  is  divine  and  eternal ;  an  image  of  Supreme  excellence  aiM|i 
Ueauty. 

Veracitj/  ii  no  Use  the  towree  of  Usefiilneto.    Men  never  volmv- 
tarily  employ  those,  in  whom  they  cb  not  j^ce  confidence.    ^' 
vinegar  to  theieeik^  and  as  emoke  to  the  egei,$oit  tkehiienrtokhm^ 
iksU  eenieth  kinu    The  fear  of  being  deceived,  the  suspense  anA) 
a&ziety,  wtiich  we  necessarily  feel,  when  our  aflbin  are  in  thtf. 
hands  of  un&ithfiil  men,  soon  forbid  a  repetition  of  the  same  ei^ 
periment.    Equally  unwilling  are  we,  in  all  ordinary  cases,  to  fat- 
employed  by  men  of  this  dmracter.    Such  men  dmand  firom  m^'* 
services,  expect  firom  us  compliances,  and  propose* tons  tecnsi 
inconsistent  both  with  comfort,  and  integrity ;  and^  wkn  our' 
services  are  performed^  they  will  usually,  so  fitf  as  safety  will  poN' 
■it,  and  their  own  comrenience  may  require,  definMid  us  ofow- 
proper  reward.    1  know  of  but  oneexception  to  tlMse  remarks 
baa  men  do,  I  acknowledge,  employ  bad  men  to  promole  abad^i 
cause  2  but  even  they  confide  useful,  nonourable  employment,  onI|^/ 
to  persons  of  mtemty.     Equally  necessary  is  this  attribute  tii^.' 
the  production,  and  establishment,  of  that  influence,  which  conu  • 
Hitutes  a  great  part  of  the  usefulness  of  every  usefol  man.    A^^ 
Kar  can  neither  convince  others,  nor  persuade  others*    Otheta^* 
cannot  engage  with  him  in  any  serious,  useful  design.    They  can* 
not  enter  into  his  service,  nor  employ  him  in  theirs,  with  safety,  or 
liope.    His  felsehood  is  a  blast  upon  his  character,  and  upon  his 
interests,  alike.    He,  who  is  connected  with  him,  lives  in  continual 
lear  of  bemg  betrayed ;  and  be  c^y,  who  shuns  him,  is  either  hap- 
py or  safe. 

Finally ;  Veradijf  i$  iniitpeniable  to  awr  Acee^mee  wilh  OoJL 
The  Psalmist,  when  he  inquires.  Who  ekattateenainio  ike  tabenm^ 
eUoftke  kutkeett  solemnlv  answers.  He  tkai  epeakeik  truik  m  kie 
heart ;  ke  thai  emearetk  to  me  owm  kurt,  and  amngetk  not*  ^  Such 
%  the  universal  lamcnaae  of  the  Scriptures.    Lgimglipej  saith  ib^^ 


THB  RATUBIi  1m.  (SKI.  GODT. 

iriseman,  anonabinninaiionwUo  the  Lord*  There  shall  innowiu 
enter  into  the  city  any  thing  that  dtfikth;  nor  he  that  loveth,  and 
makethy  a  lie.  Every  liar,  therefore,  knows,  that  he  is  in  a  state 
of  condemnation ;  that,  hitherto,  he  has  no  title  to  endless  life, 
nor  a  single  hope  of  final  acceptance  with  God.  Before  these 
blessings  can  be  begiuit  his  ruling  character  mast  be  renounced. 
He,  who  requireth  fnifk  m  the  inward  parte^  can  turn  no  eye,  but 
that  of  indignation  and  abhorrence,  upon  a  soul,  polluted  with 
felsehood,  and  enstamped  with  the  foul  image  of  him,  who  mu  a 
liar  from  the  begimingj  and  the  father  of  it.  In  Heaven  a  liar 
wouid  be  a  gasing-stock ;  a  spot  on  the  beautiful  and  glorious 
aspect  of  that  happy  world ;  a  curse  to  himself;  and  a  nuisance  to 
its  exalted  inhabitants. 

There  is  one  world  in  the  Universe,  and,  so  far  as  we  are  infom- 
ed,  but  one,  in  which  Truth  is  unknown,  and  falsehood  reigns,  and 
ravages.  Here  all  liars  have  their  part }  and  all,  who  dwell  here^ 
are  liars.  Here,  to  deceive,  and  to  be  deceived,  is  the  base  em- 
ployment, and  the  wretched  lot.  Truth,  here,  is  never  spokeOi 
unless  to  deceive;  and  confidence  is  never  exercised.  Friend- 
ship, sociality,  the  union  of  hearts,  and  the  interchange  of  affec- 
tions, are  never  found  in  this  drearv  and  dreadful  region.  In  the 
midst  of  millions,  every  individual  is  alone.  A  gloomy  and  terri- 
ble solitude  broods  over  the  desolate  vast;  and  the  eye  of  suffering 
and  sorrow,  stretching  its  look  of  anguish  above,  aromid,  beneath, 
finds  no  fiiend,  in  whom  it  may  confide ;  no  boftam,  on  which  it 
may  repose  with  comfort,  peace,  or  hope. 

How  different  is  that  delightful  residence,  where  all  who  love, 
and  speak,  Truth,  are  by  the  boundless  goodness  of  the  Creator 
united  in  a  divine  and  blissful  assembly.  Here,  Truth,  by  everr 
member  of  this  vast  and  happv  family,  is  loved,  studied,  embraced^ 
and  spoken,  for  ever.  Conndfence,  here,  enters  the  soul ;  and  takes 
up,  in  this  unsullied  mansion,  its  eternal  residence.  Friendshipb 
the  twin  sister  of  Confidence,  dwells,  and  smiles,  by  her  side ;  and 
sheds  upon  the  purified  mind  her  immortal  enjoyments :  while  God 
with  infinite  complacency  beholds  this  illustrious  work  of  lus  own 
hands ;  and  showers  around  it  ^th  eternal  profusion  the  evci^ . 
glowing  blessini^  of  his  unchangeable  love* 


SERMON  "OXSn* 

mmrm  commAMDmEMT*"  the  vatubx  amd  cawm  ^tNP ,  xtom^ 


In  the  precediDg  diBcoarse  I  comidered,  at  some  lensthi  Itr 
Jfaiure  and  /if^Mrrlance  ^TVulAomf  Feroeily;    These  are  me&oijf ; 
<tfihe Precept  in  the  text.    I  shall  now  moa  to  examine  the  uv> 
Bfdiate  ni&^ecl  of  the  Text,  vix.  AbcAooS^iiiiderthetitvMlowifi^ 

Under  the  former  of  these  heads  I  shall  include  Plrgmlu  hn&k^ 
tw,  and  Pefjwry* 

In  discoursing  on  this  satgecti  I  propose  to  conridsTi ' 
ne  Jfaiure} 
TheCamtff 
neMuekiAj  and, 


7%$Pr€V€MH$f  oflMmg* 

Concerning  the  first  of  these  subjects,  via.  Thk  JMmtot  LjihfUf 
I  ohserve  generallvt  that  a  Lie  is  a  fain  ieetaraiwn  o/^gtii,  mt^ 


finfymai^f  w  maaej  as  is  sometimes  the  case,/fiMi  m^yfilmics  Is 
A  False  Promttt  is  a  crime,  substantially  of  the  same  natote 


with  a  LU^  m  the  proper  eeme.    A  lie  is  a/ahe  detUtrmUtm-of  e9* 
•    A  fiise  promise  is  a^/^e  deoaftrtjon^/i^ 
Peijury  is  afaUe  deelaratum  either  rf  preeeni  Imt  fiaw^'faei$f 


ittmgfactiM 


mmfa,  aeeommuUed  ty  m  meIA«  Perjurjf  in  evUemee  is  a 
leclaration,  imaer  oath>  of  existing  fiicts.  Perjwf  vnder  on*  *» 
ealh  of  ojke  or  truei  is  a  fiJse  declarauon  of  iiiture  fects*  TM- ' 
Ibfive  fiaicts,  here  referred  to,  are  miiiveraalhr  such  as  are  supposed 
to  be  under  our  own  eontrd ;  and  itre  chiefly  such  is  are  inyolved'^'^ 
m  omr  own  conduct.  Such  at  least  is  die  case,  wAsn  lAs  'Sali^  ar -^ 
promm^  it  lawjidlywuide. 

Mankind  are  guuty  of  Lyings  that  is,  aabstantiaffy  goBqri  faihr  < 
Mldwing  wajTSt 

If  la  vpKmltffy  ibdbMJbiu  offaeUfWkkk  wo  hmmn  tolfei* 

For.  example }  cTerir  iiaiTatiQii,^  kbowir  to  W 'frb^  'b  a  WtT- 
E(jual]y  such  is  eyerydescripdon,  of  a  sunthtf  naturst 

^//nieeUnrirngthaiUteirwe^  mkUkm  Miias  lais  aiXniiiiy '  - 
Miough^  talks  ifd;irfibiMieyWm[;  tM  IM^^ 


4M  THE  NATURE  iJID  fJSEBL  CXXfL 

To  our  mindB  that  is  tnie,  or  false,  which  after  careful  examina- 
tion we  believe  to  be  so.  Before  we  make  our  declaitttions,  we 
are  bound  to  examine  as  impartially,  and  as  thoroughly,  as  we 
can*  After  such  an  examination,  if  we  declare,  agreeably  to  the 
best  knowledge  which  we  are  able  thus  to  obtain,  and  with  no 
more  confidence  than  such  an  examination  warrants,  our  veracity 
is,  1  apprehend,  unimpeachable.  We  may  indeed  mistake  ;  but 
are  in  no  sense  guilty  of  lying.  But  if  we  declare  that  which  is 
contrary  to  our  beUef^  although  the  declaration  should  be  exactly 
true,  we  are  still  intentionally,  and  therefore  in  the  criminal  sense, 
liars. 

3.  In  nuhly  asserting  what  is  not  f  me,  when  the  assertion  springs 
from  a  sinful  JfegUct  of  Examining. 

Inconsiaerate  and  rash  men  assert  roundly,  although  they  do 
not  know  that,  which  they  assert,  to  be  true ;  and  have  no  suffi- 
cient reasons  for  believing  it  to  be  true.  This  conduct  is  derived 
only  from  the  want  of  a  just  sense  of  the  importance  of  Truth,  and 
the  value  of  Veracity.  Such  a  sense  will  prompt  every  man,  i^ 
possesses  it,  to  examine  before  he  asserts ;  to  assert  with  watdh 
fulness  and  caution;  and,  where  he  does  not  feel  himself  warranted 
to  make  unqualified  declarations,  to  express  his  belief,  his  opinion, 
or  his  apprehension. 

No  excuse  can  be  given  for  this  indifference  to  truth.  To 
ankind  its  importance  is  infinite.  The  sacrifice  of  it  is,  in  all 
instances,  an  injury  which  can  neither  be  repaired,  nor  recalled. 
Every  man  is  bound  to  regard  it  in  this  manner,  to  enable  himself 
to  speak  truth  only,  whenever  he  speaks  at  all.  He  therefore, 
who  b^  a  voluntary  negligence  is  led  rashly  to  make  false  asser- 
tions, IS  without  excuse. 

4*  In  professing  to  declare  the  whole  truthj  and  yet  concealing  a 
part  ofit^  with  an  intention  to  deceive. 

A  wilful  deception  is  here  intended,  and  accomplished:  the 
very  thing,  which  constitutes  the  essence  of  Lying.  The  means, 
indeed,  cuffer ;  but  the  spirit,  the  guilt,  and  the  purpose,  are  the 


I 


There  is,  I  acknowledge,  a  prudent  and  justifiable  concea1ment| 
as  well  as  a  guilty  one.  What  others  have  not  a  right  to  know, 
we  are  not  bound  to  declare.  Nor  are  we,  of  course,  bound  to 
disclose  the  whole  of  a  subject  in  many  cases,  where  we  may  be 
willing  to  communicate  a  part.  But  in  every  case,  our  disclosures, 
and  our  concealments,  must  be  exacdy  accordant  with  our  profes- 
sions. The  writer,  who  professes  to  record  the  whole  of  a  stoiy, 
is  inexcusable,  if  he  narrate  only  a  part ;  although  every  thing 
^uch  he  actually  declares,  mav  be  true.  The  ^tness,  who^ 
nnoer  the  oath  of'^evidence,  irithholds  any  thing  which  he  knowif 
pertaining  to  the  subject  in  debate,  is  perjured* 

^  &  Jk  Volouring  the  subjut  of  owr  declarations  so  as  to  give  it  i 
iifermU  aspect  from  the  true  one* 


snt  cjoLvui  CMxmEB  or  vnmk  48T 


This  is  an  extensive  field  of  fiabehood ;  too  ezteosivei  indeed,  to 
be  thorougbly  explored  at  the  present  time. 

A  common  mode  of  transgressing,  in  the  way  here  generally  de* 
scribed,  is  to  reprueni  the  coiiduct  of  others  iruhf^^  perhaps,  m 
to  ike  principal  factSj  and  to  surround  it  with  such  circumstance$| 
annex  to  it  such  appendages,  and  attribute  it  to  such  motives,  as, 
taken  toeether,  will  ^ive  it  an  appearance  either  partially,  or 
wholly,  lalse ;  and  as  is  common  in  instances  of  this  nature,  very 
injurious  to  thenu 

Another  mode  of  transgressing  in  this  way  is  to  exhibit  the  opin- 
ions, or  doctrines  of  others,  not  m  language  which  they  would  ac- 
knowledge, but  in  languafi;e  of  our  own  choice ;  selected  for  the 
purpose  of  rendering  such  opinions  or  doctrines,  absurd  and  de- 
formed, and  of  rendering  those,  who  hold  them,  odious  to  others. 
This  is,  almost  of  course,  accompanied  with,  what  is  exactly  of  the 
same  nature,  charging  upon  them  consequences,  which  we  make, 
and  thejf  disclainu 

The  doctrinet  of  the  Reformation  have,  in  a  very  remarkable 
nmnner,  been  followed,  and  persecuted,  with  this  species  of  blse- 
hood.  It  is  at  least  extraorainary,  if  not  singular,  that  these  doc- 
trines are  never,  or  very  rarely  if  ever,  represented  by  those  who 
oppose  them,  in  such  terms,  as  are  used  by  those  who  profeu 
them ;  but  in  terms,  which  materially  varv  the  nature  of  the  doc- 
trines. In  this  manner  it  is  plainly  intenaed  to  make  them  objects 
of  alarm,  and  abhorrence,  to  others ;  and  to  engaee  by  this  obli- 
quity of  representation  the  passions  of  mankind  in  a  course  of 
hostility  against  their  defenders.  Every  class  of  men  have  un- 
doubtedly a  right  to  express  their  own  opmions  in  their  own  terms ; 
and  to  admit,  or  r^ect,  such  consequences  of  their  opinions,  as  thcT 
think  proper.  The  doctrines  may  indeed  be  fiurly  impeachea, 
and  by  argument  shown  to  be  absurd,  if  it  can  be  done ;  and  any 
consequences  may,  so  far  as  it  can  be  shown  by  reason,  be  proved 
to  follow  from  them.  But  to  vary  the  terms,  in  which  the  doctrine 
b  exhibited,  fiom  those,  in  which  it  is  declared  by  its  defenders, 
and  to  charge  them  with  holding  it  in  such  a  manner,  as  we  are 
pleased  to  express  it :  to  draw  conse<}uences  from  it  at  our  own 
pleasure,  and  exhibit  them  as  the  opinions  of  those,  with  whom  we 
contend,  although  disclaimed  by  them;  is  plably  disingenuous, 
false,  and  criminal. 

Another  example  of  the  same  nature  is  presented  to  us  by  CW 
iiructive  Jfarration. 

By  this  I  intend  that  Jfarration,  in  which  the  writer^  or  tpeaJur^ 
eon$tr%u9  evetUt,  together  with  the  actiom^  niotiveij  and  characters f  ^ 
those,  concerned  in  them,  in  such  a  manner,  as  he  pleases  ;  that  is,  m 
a  manner,  accordant  wUh  his  own  views,  interests,  passions  andpre- 
judices  ;  and  interweaves  his  constructions  in  the  recital,  witkmd 
giving  any  notice  of  this  fact,  so  as  to  make  them  an  insqMrabh 
part  of  the  Jfarrative.    The  reader,  here,  is  unable  to  tell  what  is 


tetf  «nd  wbit  »  CMslrvclioB  9  and  of  come,  iibIch  metervtd 
from  it  by  superior  discemiBent,  is  betrayed  into  a  beliet  ^  aU  the 
enora,  created  by  the  prejudices  of  the  writer.  A  great  part  of 
modem  historv  is,  if  I  mistake  not,  written  in  this  uofortniiate  man* 
Bart  and,  in  tJm  respect,  differs  essentially,  and  unhappilv,  frooL 
the  ancient  manner  of  Narration*  Falsehood  is  here  taagnt  in  a 
mode,  which  seems  often  to  defy  detection,  and  which,  at  least  m 
mj  view,  b  inexcusable* 

The  ridicule  of  what  is  true,  just,  good,  honourable,  or  aacre^ 
IS' an  evil  of  the  same  nature.    The  things,  represented  by  him 
1H10  uses  the  ridicule,  are  commoidy  real ;  and,  were  tber  reprs- 
sented  in  their  own  native  and  true  cokws,  would  not  oe,  and'- 
could  not  be,  made  ridiculous.    But  they  are  folsely  coloured  ;  arer 
violendy  connected  with  appendages,  with  which  Uiey  have  nali^ 
rally  no  connexion;  are  distorted,  maimed,  and  forced  into  eveiT* 
unnatural  and  monstrous  attitude.  The  ridiculousnesaaod  absui^  - 
ity,  which  cannot  be  found  in  the  things  themselves^  aro-featened*^ 
upon  them.    When  presented  to  the  eye,  once  ia  this  aaaociatios, 
created  by  the  hand  of  ill->natuped  ingenuity,  it  will  be  diflEkult  Ar* 
the  mind  to  div^n  them  afterwards.    In  this  manner,  things  of  the  - 
most  important,  solemn  and  •venerable  nature,haraig  been  onee* 
seen  in  the  light  of  .absurdity  through  an  artificial  aasociatieoy 
are  often  regarded  as  absurd,  and  contemptible,   through  lilb^' 
No.  excuse  can  be  pleaded  for  this  unworthy  and  diaiBgenooaS'^ 
conduct. 

Of  the  same  nature  are,  ako^  what  are  called  Marvtlhm  H0rm%: 
Persons  of  a  livelv  imagination  are- prone  gready  to  admire  ahnosi'! 
every  thing,  whitm  they  see  or  hear,  and  to  find  an  exceaaire  plea^^ 
fu^  in  wbtever  is  really  wonderfiil.    With  this  diqmaition  they-' 
ait  led  to  represent  almost  all  things,  which  they  relallf  aa  extras- 
oiidinary  and  surprising.    Were  we  to  rive  fiiU  credit  to -what  thev- 
aav;  we  should  oe  ready  to  believe,  that  their  lives  had  passea  ■' 
only  through  scenes  of  a  marvellous  kind,  and  that  tlMv  had  haidly -  ^ 
ever  met  with  ordinary  beings,  or  ordinary  events.   Tne  bngui^  •  - 
of  these  persons  is,  to  a  great  extent,  nmde  up  of  superlatives  oa^-v 
ly ;  and  their  images  are  drawn  only  in  the  strongeat-and  mosfr^i 
glowing  coloursr 

Such  persons  have,  I  acknowledge,  as  little  intendon  to  deceivt'' 
in  many,  periiaps  in  most,  instances,  as  other  men.    Sdll,  thnnq;^ 
an  ea^mess  to  enhance  every  thing,  which  they  relate^  the  repie- 
aentations,  which  thev  give,  are  continually  untrue;  and  the  ajH* 
pi^hensions,  which  they  excite,  are  regularly  erroneoos«    Thera 
BBW  be,  there  often  is,  no  intentional  deception*  in  their  thoughtSi' 
SdU,-  they  continually  deceive;  and  that  of  choice  |  that  they-** 
m^]r eigoy  th^  pleasure,  foundia  the  indulgence  ofaacager ' 


9m '  Ja  *#p0ffcffy  ama  C^fatan^ 


.  v:i 


GxzvL]  •  GAmsB  w  oom.  4(9 

Flattery  is  the  ascription  of  good  qualities  to  others,  which  thejr 
do  not  possess,  or  in  greater  degrees  than  they  possess  thenu 
Sometimes,  this  ascription  is  the  result  of  the  mere  warmth  of  af« 
fection ;  and  is  then,  thoueh  not  wholly  undeserving  of  censure^ 
undoubtedly  less  criminal  man  in  other  cases.    No  warmth  of  af-  _ 
fection,  and  no  worth  in  the  object  of  it,  will  however  justify  us  f 
in  speaking  that,  which  is  not  true*     Usually,  it  is  dictated  by/ 
sinister  views,  and  intended  to  be  th6  means  of  accomplishing  un*  • 
worthy  purposes.    In  this  case,  the  author  of  it  is  a  palpable^ 
though  a  very  pleasine  liar.    The  purpose,  which  he  has  in  view, 
is  a  smful  one ;  and  the  means,  wnich  he  adopts  to  compass  it, 
are  always  sinful  and  contemptible*.  Accordingly,  mankind  have 
proverbially  declared  the  flatterer  to  be  an  odious  and  despicable 
wretch. 

Censure  is,  often,  just  and  vindicable ;  often  a  duty ;  and  not 
unfrequently  a  proof  of  superior  worth.  This,  however,  invaria* 
biy  supposes,  that  the  censure  is  deserved ;  that  it  is  demanded  by 
the  nature  of  the  case ;  and  that  it  is  administered,  solely  to  pro-, 
mote  the  good  of  the  censured,  and  not  to  ^ratify  the  pnde,  or  ill 
nature  of^the  censurer.  But  as  the  word  is  used  above,  it  is  in- 
tended to  denote  a  false  denial  of  good  qualities,  or  a  £dse  ascrip- 
tion of  bad  ones,  adopted,  to  gratify  our  own  unworthy  feelings,, 
and  to  wound  those  of  another.  Falsehood  of  this  nature  is 
too  well  understood,  and  too  generally  detested,  to  need  any 
comment. 

7.  In  alleging  to  ngjtpori  a  doctrine^  or  a  eaiuej  ammients,  whidk 
m  our  won  view  are  unsound}  or  alleging  tho$ey  which  have  iom^ 
degree  of  ioundnest  and  weighty  ai  having  more  weight  than  w€ 
beiieve  ;  or  alleging  them  with  more  confiaencej  than  we  really  ex^ 
perience  in  cur  mtnof  • 

Veracity,  at  it  reepecte  argumenttj  demands,  that  we  allege  such, 
as  in  our  view  are  really  sound;  tliat  we  attribute  to  them  ex- 
actly the  weight,  which  we  believe  them  to  possess ;  and  that  wt 
advance  them  with  expressions  of  no  more  confidence .  in  then 
than  we  actually  feel.  No  reason  can  be  alleged,  why  we  may 
wilfully  deceive  in  our  Arguments,  anv  more  than  in  our  De* 
clarations ;  or  why  Sophist^  irless  guilty,  than  what  is  appropn* 
ately  called  Lying.  The  conduct  in  Doth  cases  is  the  same ; .  via. 
a  wilful  deception.  The  design  is  the  same.  The  mischiefe,  also^ . 
are  as  mat  m  the  former  case,  and  often  greater,  thsui  in  the  laU 
ter.    Nor  can  any  reason  be  alleged,  to  prove  the  guilt  less. 

Of  the  same  nature  is  the  concealment  of  eueh  argumentij  at  me 
pottetty  when  the  support  of  truth  and  justice  demands  them,  or  tha  ■ 
overthrow  of  falsehood  and  injustice. 

8.  In  Promite-ireaking*  i 
A  promise  is  an  engagement  to  do,  or  eAttain  from,  tomethiyf^ 

either  absolutely^  or  conditionalh*     When   this  engagement  la 
made  to  God,  it  is  termed  a  Powf  when  to  our  ftilow-men,  a 
Vol.  III.  6S 


4111^  imkVAr!a»Mm 


Ubt:  h^n  o|:  nuNrality,  which,  regulate  both,  are  in 

mbilanGa  the  M^Pie«  When  a  rromise  is  mde  absolutely,  or 
when  the  conditions,  on  which  it  is  made,  are  perfonned,  we  am 
l^ound'to  fhlfil  it,  ea^/actly,  according  to  its  tenour.  Nor  can  we  be. 
ralnsedfioB  thU  obligation,  unless  the  performance  is  either  im- 
possible, or  anlawM;  or  unless  by  the  consent  of  him  to  whom 
3|e  premise  is  made*  In  every  other  case,  the  violation  of  the 
piomiseia  A  lie;,  at  least  as  criminal,  base,  md  detestable,  as  any^ 
other. 

Our  MigaHfrn-  im.Vintgiijf  am  greail^  tnhameid  iy  ait  Oalh: 
qee  of.  the  most  solemn  and  affecting  transactions,  in  which  man 
ia  ever  coooemed*  Ir. this  transaction,  God,  our  CreatiM',  Jo^^ 
and/ Rewarder;  God,  who  rcfuurcli  fmli  mlAs  mmmrdfwrU} 
God,  who  it€ik  fwi  oi  man  ieeth,  but  who  todUih  an  ike  heari;  i| 
iavoUedias  ao.awfiil  Witness  of  the  manner,  in  which  we  speak. 
If ?we  speak  treth ;  me  declare  ourhqpe  of  His  Mercy;  ifwespeak 


frlsely,  we  imprecate  His  Vengeance.  What  rational  bein^ 
hitherto  ignorant  of  the  perjuries,  which  deform  this  guilty  worl^ 
emiU  believe,  that  any  man,  thus  situated,  would  £ul  to  apeak  tntth 
wjik  the  deepest  soliatude,  and  the  most  perfect  exactness !  Tct 
pmrfury  is  in  the  list  of  human  crimes ;  and  fonns  no  inciaishkii 
able  part  of  that  dreadful  Catalogue. 

The  gdlt  of  every  species  of  lying,  when  perpetrated  undtr 
t^  solemnities  of  an  oath,  is  enhanced  by  these  conaideralions. 
Tie  sin  in  almost  all  cases  is  more  deliberately  conunitted.  This 
penon  to  whom  an  oatk.isadministered,  has  every  opportunity, 
which  he  can  wish,  for  summoning  up  to  the  view  ot  hu  nund 
every  motive  te  the  pertem^ce  of;  hu  duty,  and  every,  induce 
maatio  abatain  from  falsehood.  These,  iwucemeata,  slIso,  are 
the  strongest  conceivable*  God  in  a  peculiar  i  manner  ia.  present 
tp-his  thmighlax .  the  0Mt//.3^^ 

sfatf  Aevs  lastV jRarf  inih$ilakh  wkicMwrmik  miktra  and  Mm^ 
Hfnu  Hn  joelia  put  at  haawrdpnbis  utterance  ottnith  or  false* 
haedi  If  ^healleflLks  fclichogd,  )ie  voluntarily  roesigna  himself  to 
fCaditioa.  If  neiisguiltgroffpeijuigrr  he^is  nuned,r  aho,  for  thia. 
werkL  The  ;Stain  is  too  deep,  ever  ito.  be  -wiped  away.  At  tk^ 
aem^  li^i^.he  does  what  ia  i4Aiappwer  to»cot  up  confidence  by  the 
rpecs.  4e<MlA/fr  eei|^<iiie(tee,i^sayf  Su  D^yi^  m  io  mm  Ae  mi 
^mU  eamimmmtjfm .  HeU  vU  1(«  If  the  confidence^  repQied  in.aa 
eilh,  could  hfcifpesedLiKMegie^  ;hiw>an  diiButes^must  either  ha 
unsettled,) oei^limmatedtby>tte'»l»wgth  of  the  ann;  and  to  thi!, 
eedbe,  wiio papymi hipielfttdoaaall  ia Jiia..power  to  condect 


^  At  die  same  time,  it  is  ever.t»,bfrrtmambtiedr  that  God  Hlfc. 
adf  has  been  pleased,  on  various  wxatiml^J^^€fS|fipm^ki9  om 
mfdljeanafli  U»ihkmannar  hrMft  testified  to  us.  dmt,  in  lis 
niwvaaie«lil/iiddiA  peeeGur  taimim,4o.dmt,  whiall^kM  bem. 
mkimam^JImtik  Ualrwil^,  htb.wiM>.ut|9nfa,fiaidiwi 


ttilifiM,  Whkh  can  be  c<»ceit^  to  iaiacH^  yufalfc» 

fence  «f  1m  duty. 

JTUCmitts9fLjimgfii»  tfecdnd  dmg  propOied  i&AhMlieiai 
«f  this  Dwcofine,  rnn,  gtmrmth^  M  lAt  nm/mtHmu^  ^Mch  mm 
IWf  Id  lAti  wJUgiffg  musHce.  MeK  mter  AdBriioed,  wiensrrd^ 
nir  tbe  acqaimtion  or  wealth,  liohoar,  powM,  and  plnuBure^  lo  a» 
fance  the  purposes  of  party;  to  ensane  aneceM  m  a  cottarbt«mr) 
la  gain  a  &fourite  point ;  to  laortifTa  rival,  ^  aa  eaennr ;  Md  Mr 
iammieiable  other  purposes.  In  like  discourse,  arWch  I  defitetall 
•a  the  subject  of  llhMb,  pr&dfmi  an  9ut/kUom4im^  uunertfli 
IjMciiBens  of  this  nature  were  either  alhided  to,  or  expressly  lUM^ 
iMmed.  Similar  spedmens,  petliaps  equaflr  Buneroaa,  are  acteni^ 
ant  apoB  the  eager  pursuit  c«  an  those  workilygrBtificiMieB^ 
aien  ardently  coret.  /  hwm  of  no  mm,  4%  ^kkk  l^iig  iMM 
afoaiMb,  than  lAal  ^  veAemeal  jmfijf  ecK^eniim.  Uaiv^vsaHy^ 
men,  embarked  in  unworthy  desicns,  as  I  shall  hate  eccasioa  l# 
mention  more  particularly  hereafter,  find  fidselMfod  exceeddiglj 
eootenient,  if  not  indispensable  to  their  swscesb.  Deptared  llr 
iMflkind  are,  abad  cause  cannot  be  caitied  oi  UMi  sacceas,  whki 
Ml  the  aid  either  of  fiJsehood,  or  the  swoid. 

All  these  are  tmmedSof  e  Causes  of  Lyings  TlMe^  to  whteh  I 
kate  originally  referred,  are  mori  ttmoU.  Th^  are  SUchf  aH 
aabrert  tSe  original  tendency  to  speak  Trdth,  wMeh  we  ragalarhr 
find  in  the  eariiest  ages  of  life.  The  influence  of  these  eauaes  n 
peculiarly  exerted  upon  the  minds  of  such  as  are  young  \  and  dlejf 
are  led  into  haUts  of  Lying,  before  they  afe  capable  of  aAdel^ 
standing  either  their  guilt,  or  their  dai^|er.  These  causes  SM 
princirally  the  followmg* 

1.  Chiidren  an  often  taugki  to  lie  ijf  Etmr^i. 

Few  persons  of  adult  years  are,  perhaps,  sutflciently  tensiUa 
haw  soon  children  begin  to  understaiul  the  nature  of  those  thingai 
wUch  they  see,  and  near ;  especially  the  nature  ot  human  cOQi 
dttcu  From  l^s,  as  well  as  from  other  causes,  it  frequently  hap 
pens,  that  many  things  are  done,  and  said,  htfott  yery  yoafig  chdi 
oren,  which  would  not  be  said,  or  done,  if  it  were  well  undei^ 
stood,  that  die  children  wouM  clearljr  comprehend,  and  regularly 
copy,  them.  By  this  misapprehension  the  memberi  of  many  ft 
fimiily,  and  unhapiMly  the  parents  also,  are  Often  induced  to  Dim* 
their  children  witnesses  of  palpable  fehM»hoods,  when,  bad  w§ 
themselyes  are,  they  would  not  corrupt  their  childrea  in  this  mdth 
ner,  were  they  aware,  tl»t  their  conduct  would  thua  becoibe  tbi 
means  of  corruption.  Often,  these  fltlsehoods  afe  ottered  in  eartn 
eac :  often,  they  are  utteied  in  jf»t.  In  both  cases  theif  htfueoea 
is  alike  pmicious. 

The  power  of  all  example  \i  giMf;  eapetiaMt  of  eyil  eaanrtdaf 
bat,  j)erhaps.  in  no  case  greater  Aan  iH  ttat  of  Madbodr  HieM^ 
1h(t  falsehood  is  broi^thome  to  the  child  with  an  influence  whol« 


491  1BB*NATUB1»  ARD  fSMBL  GZZfl 

ly  peculiar*  It  U  uttered  by  those,  whom  he  loves ;  bj  thoie 
whom  he  venerates ;  hj  those  of  whom  he  has  never  formed  a 
disadvantageous  suspicion.  It  is  calmly  and  coolly  told  to  othen 
in  his  presence,  without  a  doubt,  expressed,  of  its  rectitude ;  and 
as,  at  times,  accompanied  by  a  direct  explanation  of  the  advan- 
tages, which  are  hoped  from  it.  At  other  times,  it  is  uttered  in 
the  seal  of  dispute,  and  the  warmth  of  passion.  At  other  times, 
a  multitude  of  iUsehoods  are  combined  together  in  a  marvellow 
story,  and,  in  many  fomilies,  such  stories  fonn  no  small  part  of  the 
domestic  conversation.  At  other  times  still,  and  instances  iDnunle^ 
able,  the  private  history  of  persons,  and  fiBimilies  in  the  neighboo^ 
liood,  furnishes  an  almost  endless  tissue  of  interwoven  truth  and 
fiJsehood  I  and  constitutes  the  chief  entertainment  of  the  heusc 
Families,  composed  of  sipriehdy  members,  make,  also,  innumcr 
able  assertions  in  jest,  whicn  are  untrue ;  which  the  child,  wk 
hears  them,  perceives  to  be  untrue ;  and  for  the  fidsehood  of  wUd 
he  does,  not  perceive  the  sport  to  j^ield  an]r  justification. 

All  these,  even  very  young  children  wiU  usually  discern  to  be 
fidsehoods.  No  person  can  wonder,  that  they  should  be  induced 
to  adopt  this  conduct,  when  he  remembers,  that  it  is  set  before 
them,  continually,  in  so  many  modes,  by  those  who  are  so  mock 
the  objects  of  anection  and  reverence.  That  children  derive  thii 
turpitude  in  very  many  instances,  originally,  and  chiefly,  froin  such 
an  example,  diey  themselves  abundantly  prove.  The  reasoo, 
which  they  almost  always  give,  and  first  give,  for  the  conumssion 
of  this  crime,  is,  that  others  have  done  the  same  thing. 

In  multiplied  instances,  falsehoods  are  directly  told  to  children,  pa^ 
ticularly  very  young  children,  to  persuade  them  to  acquiesce  chee^ 
ftdly,  in  things  which  are  disagreeable.  Children,  like  older  persoos, 
have  many  wishes,  the  gratification  of  which  is,  in  their  view,  Jmpo^ 
tant  to  their  happiness ;  but  which  others  know  to  be  fraught  with 
danger  and  miscnief.  To  persuade  them  Quietly  to  rive  up  such 
gratifications.  Parents,  and  others,  frequently  aJopt  Uie  easy  and 
convenient  method  of  deceiving  them.  Thus  parents,  who  wish 
to  go  abroad,  and  to  persuade  their  young  children  to  remain  at 
home,  often  declare,  that  they  are  goine  out,  to  return  immediate- 
ly:  while  the  children  clearly  discern,  tnat  the  declaration  is  false. 
When  parents,  also,  or  others,  are  abroad,  whose  absence  is  very 
painful  to  children ;  servants,  and  others  to  ^uiet  them,  declare, 
often,  that  the  parents  are  returning ;  are  in  sight ;  or  will  return 
within  a  very  short  time.  To  persuade  them  to  take  medicines, 
the  children  are  assured,  that  thev  are  sweet  and  pleasant ;  when, 
in  truth,  they  are  bitter  and  loatnsome.  To  conceal  from  them 
designs  also,  and  facts,  which  it  is  undesirable  that  they  should 
know,  many  artful  and  insidious  declarations  are  made  to  them ; 
which,  together  with  all  those  mentioned  above,  the  children,  in 
spite  of  the  address,  employed  to  prevent  it,  discern  to  be  (hise. 


V 

flBIL  GSCVL]  CADBXS  OP  LTIIftt.  4f9. 

Thus,  to  quiet  them  for  a  moment,  they  are  often  taught  to  be- 
come liars  through  life.  *    ^ 

In  a  similar  manner,  children  are  deceived,  and  corrupted,  iy.*"^ 
false  promises.    They  are  sick ;  are  reluctant  to  take  medicines^ 
are  peevish,  and  fretful ;  are  wished  by  their  parents  to  make  lit** 
tie  efforts  to  display  their  talents,  and  accomplishments,  for  the 
entertainment  of  visiters,  and  the  gratification  also  of  parental 
pride.    To  overcome  their  reluctance  to  these  efforts,  sooth  their 
sufferings,  and  to  quiet  their  fretfulness,  they  are  promised  money ; 
new  clothes ;  the  possession  of  tojrs,  and  pnvileges ;  and,  particu- 
larly, the  privilege  of  eoing  abroad.    But  the  performance  of 
sucn  promises  will  usually  occasion  either  trouble  or  expense. 
Very  often,  therefore,  they  are  not  performed.    In  this  work  of 
fedsehood,  parents,  brethren,  sisters,  friends,  and  servants,  fre- 
quently all  unite;  and  the  unfortunate  children,  who  perfectly 
comprehend  the  deceit,  find  sometimes  the  whole,  and  sometimes  a 
part,  of  the  family  thus  combined  for  their  destruction. 

Equally  unhapj^  are  they  in  the  examples  which  they  find  abroad^ 
Children,  thus  corrupted,  carry  the  miserable  contagion  to  school. 
All  their  companions,  who  have  been  educated  with  happier  care, 
and  under  better  examples,  are  here  exposed  to  the  disease ;  ana 
in  many  instances  become  infected  and  leprous  through  Ufe. 

At  the  same  time.  Children  are  often  permitted  to  f re fuent  places j 
to  which  vile  and  unprincipled  persons  resort ;  and  there  become 
witnesses  of  all  their  abominable  sentiments,  and  conduct.  Here, 
Lies  are  not  only  told,  but  are  made  the  subjects  of  jest  and  diver- 
sion. Successful  falsehoods,  and  impositions,  are  not  only  repeat- 
ed, but  repeated  with  explanations,  merriment,  and  triumph^  and 
exhibited  as  proofs  of  superior  address,  and  honourable  ingenuityr 
What  child  can  fail  of  corruption  ia  such  haunts  of  sin,  and  amid 
such  examples  of  villany  ? 

2.  Children  are  taught  to  lie  by  Infiuence. 

In  very  early  life,  children  discover  a  strong  tendency  to  talk 
abundantly,  to  repeat  marvellous  stories;  to  renearse  pnvate  his- 
tory ;  and  to  recount  the  little  occurrences  of  the  neighbourhood. 
In  the  multitude  of  words  there  wanteth  not  sin.  Every  tendency 
to  loc|uacity  ou^ht,  therefore,  to  be  vigorously  repressed.  The  dis- 
position to  recite  marvellous  stories,  to  g*ve  characters,  and  to 
recount  private  history,  and  the  occurrences  of  the  neighbourhood, 
increases  by  every  indulgence ;  and  soon  becomes  both  habitual 
and  enormous. 

Instead  of  checking  these  propensities,  however,  no  small  num*^ 
ber  of  parents,  unaware  of  the  danger,  and  forgetful  of  their  duty, 
directly  listen,  and  inquire ;  and  in  many  instances  repeat  wlml 
has  been  said  in  this  manner  by  their  children.  In  this  conduct^ 
the  children  perceive  that  they  aerive  consequence,  in  the  parental 
eye,  from  the  fact,  that  they  utter  things  of  this  nature  ;  and  are 
emcaciously  taught,  that  what  they  have  said,  instead  of  being 


•  ♦ 


t  I 


494  1VE  H AtOKE  AND  [8Bft.^ 

.  criminal,  odious,  and  disgraceful,  is  right,  and  pleasing.  They 
are  naturally,  and  powerfully,  led,  ihl^mbre,  to  increaa^^y  instead 
.•» '  of  slackening,  their  efforts  ;  and  to  maltiply  their  tales  of  these 
unfortunate  kinds.  From  repeating,  they  go  on  to  exaggerating ; 
from  rehearsing,  to  inventine ;  and  from  inventing  such  parts, 
•  ai  the  memory  does  not  supply,  to  inventing  the  whole. '  In  this 
manner,  they  become,  after  no  great  lengtn  of  time,   absolute 

lisgrs* 

?ln  multitudes  of  instances,  also,  children,  to  gain  favourite  ob- 
jects, and  interesting  compliances,  from  their  companions,  are  in- 
duced to  make  promises,  of  vafiouf  kinds.  These,  afterwards,  they 
are  often  disinclined  to  fulfil.  The  parent,  whose  duty  it  is  to 
compel  the  periformance,  finding  the  child  reluctant,  because  it 
involves  some  sacrifice  of  his  playthings,  his  property,  or  his 
convenience,  neglects  this  duty,  and  sufiers  the  promise  to  go  un- 
fulfilled. In  this  manner,  he  gives  his  own  sanction  to  a  direct 
breach  of  faith,  infinitely  more  mischievous  to  the  child,  than  the 
loss  of  all  the  gratifications  which  he  ever  possessed.  Nay,  in 
some  instances,  the  child  is  even  encouraged,  and,  in  some,  directly 
'  commanded,  not  to  fulfil  his  promise ;  because,  perhaps,  the  fulfil- 
ment will  be  very  painful  to  the  child,  or  in  some  degree  incon- 
venient to  the  parent.  In  all  such  cases  as  I  hs^  mentioned, 
nothing  can  be  expected,  but  that  the  child  should  grow  up  without 
truth,  and,  of  course,  without  any  moral  principle. 

3.  Children  are  often  driven  to  falsehood  by  Passion^ 

%  There  are  parents,  whose  whole  life  is  an  almost  continual  seem 
of  passion.  There  are  others,  who  often  break  put  into  paroxyso^! 
of  rage.  Among  these,  the  number  is  not  small  of  those,  who  ex- 
ercise this  furious  spirit  towards  their  children ;  not  unfrequentlf 
because  their  faults,  whether  real  or  supposed,  disturb  their  own 
quiet,  and  make,  or  seem  to  make,  it  necessary  for  them  to  under- 
take, what  they  equally  hate  and  dread,  the  task  of  parental  disci- 
pline* The  unhappy  children  are,  in  such  cases,  conimonly  as- 
sailed with  the  looks,  and  language,  of  a  Fury,  instead  of  those  of 
a  Christian  parent.  Terrified  at  this  §tonn  of  wrath  and  rage,  the 
children  are,  in  a  sense,  compelled,  under  the  influence  of  me  se- 
verest threatenings,  to  lie,  in  order  to  conceal  their  faults,  and 
escape  the  dreaded  infliction.     Passion,  manifested  towards  chil- 

,;  dren,  whatever  may  have  been  their  transgressions,  is  madness; 
shameful  to  the  parent,  and  ruinous  to  the  child.  The  parent,  who 
exercises  it,  can  expect  nothing,  but  that  his  child  should  become 
a  liar. 

4.  Children  are  often  forced  to  lie  by  Punishment* 

Parents,  in  many  instances,  feel  satisfied,  that  they  have  done 
their  duty,  when  they  have  corrected  their  children  for  this  crime.* 
Accordingly,  as  often  as  the  children  repeat  the  crime,  they  repeat 
the  punishment.  Hardly  any  mistake,  with  respect  to  the  govern^ 
ment  of  children,  can  be  more  unhappy  than  this.    So  far  as  my ' 


'M 


V    #  .  .  ^ 

faWfnVI]  CAUSES  OF  LTIKO.  495 

own  experience  may  be  n^Iied  on,  the  same  punishment  can  never 
be  safehL  repeated,  in  anufteat  number  of  mstances,  for  the  same 
£aiult«  Usually,  when  admtiistered  once,  if  administered  wisely,  it.^, 
it  will  produce  its  whole  efficacy  on  the  child.  All  the  supernu- 
merary inflictions  appear,  ordinarily,  to  terminate  in  hardening  the 
child  ;  and,  so  far  as  my  observation  extends,  in  no  case  more  ef- 
fectually, than  in  that  of  lying.  Perhaps,  the  rod  is  oftener  used 
for  the  purpose  of  extirpating  this  fault  than  any  other ;  and  in 
no  case,  I  suspect,  with  smaller  success.  The  propriety  and  use- 
fulness of  correction,  at  early  periods  of  childhood,  are  sanctioned 
by  abundant  experience,  ana  by  God  Himself.  But  reiterated 
correction,  I  mean  often  reiterated,  has,  I  believe*,  rarely  cured  a 
child  of  falsehood .:  while  it  has  confirmed  multitudes  in  this  sin 
beyond  every  rational  hope  of  reformation. 

The  consciousness  of  having  been  often  corrected,  produces,  of 
course,  in  the  mind  of  every  child,  who  is  the  subject  of  this  disci- 
pline, an  habitual  sense  of  degradation.  A  sense  of  deCTadation 
IS  more  nearly  allied,  than  mankind  are  usually  aware,  to  nardness 
of  heart.  When  punishment  fails  of  producing  repentance,  it  is 
commonly  followed  by  indifference  to  the  crime  ;  often,  by  a  de- 
termination to  repeat  it ;  and  usually,  by  feelings  of  revenge  to- 
wards the  author  of  the  infliction.  A  child  has  told  a  lie.  The 
parent  has  been  provoked  by  it.  The  child  has  been  corrected ;. 
out  has  not  become  a  j)enitent.  On  the  contrary,  he  feels,  that 
.'  be  has  been  injured ;  and,  instead  of  regarding  the  he  as  a  crirn^ 
-t-.  tensiders  it  only  as  an  unfortunate  cause  of  his  own  sufreriQg^,f " 
"•  '  The  turpitude  of  the  act  is  therefore  forgotten,  and  lost,  in  the 
sense  of  sufferine.  To  retribute  the  abuse  will  naturally  seem,  in 
this  case,  a  gratincation,  of  no  contemptible  importance.  A  new 
crime  is  therefore  committed,  as  soon  as  his  own  safety  will  permit* 
He  is  accused  of  it ;  and  a  new  lie  is  told,  to  shield  him  from  anoth- 
er correction.  In  this  manner,  he  will  soon  oegin  to  believe,  that 
both  his  lies,  and  his  other  crimes,  are  merely  a  balance  for  a  giv^ 
en  measure  of  punishment ;  and  will  calculate  how  many  blows  it 
.  will  be  prudent  to  hazard  for  the  pleasure  of  committing  a  fault,  and 
the  convenience  of  telling  a  lie.  The  parent,  who  governs  his 
child  in  this  manner,  takes,  in  my  opinion,  well-directed  measures 
to  make  him  a  villain. 


I 


a 


SERMON  CXXVn. 

tfXVTH   COMMAirDKfiNT. — ^MISCHIfiFB  MIk  PBBVfiNTIVKS    OV 


EioDVf  zs.  1& — Hum  ikaU  not  bearfalM  wUtutt  againd  tk^  weJjgfcftjM^  * 

In  the  preceding  discourse  I  proposed  to  consider 

The  Nature  ; 

Tkt  Causes^ 

The  Mischiefs  ;  and 

The  Preventives  f  ofLjfingm 

The  two  first  of  these  subjects  I  discussed  at  that  time.  I 
shall  now  proceed  to  discuss  the  two  last.    The 

1  •  Mischief  of  Lying  is  the  great  and  general  oru  f  thai  Uu€ 
Sin  against  Uoa. 

There  have  not  been  wanting  persons  in  every  age,  who  have 
holden  the  doctrine,  that  Lying  is  in  some  cases  lawful.  Among 
these,  harfribeen  many  professed  Moralists,  and  at  least  some 
Divines*  Particularly,  the  very  respectable  Writer,  whose  opi- 
.nions  I  have  several  times  qn optioned,  Archdeacon  Paley  bu 
taught  this  doctrine  in  form  in  his  system  of  Moral  Philosophy. 
At  the  head  c^  these  men  we  fijid  the  celebrated  name  of  Origesu. 
This  Fathefi  with  an  indistinctness  of  discernment,  which  charac* 
Prizes  not  affnall  number  of  early  writers  in  the  Christian  Church, 
as  well  as  most  others  at  the  same  period,  appears  to  have  beUeved,. 
that  a  falsehood  might  be  lawfully  told,  in  order  to  promote  the 
cause  of  Christianity*  This  scheme,  universally  extended,  is  no 
other  than  the  funaanfiental  and  detestable  maxim  of  lUumiDism; 
that  the  End  sanctions  ihe  Means  ;  a  maxim,  on  which  St.  Paul  has 
pronounced  a  terrible  sentence  of  condemnation ;  while  cbmmoii 
sense,  and  common  honesty  subjoin  their  united  Amenm 

Dr*  Paley^  who  strongly  reprobates  the  doctrine  of  Origeii,  has, 
in  my  opinion,  fallen  into  an  error,  as  really,  though  not  so  ex* 
tensively,  mischievous.  He  declares  those  falsehoods^  where  liU 
person^  to  whom  you  speak^  has  no  right  to  know  the  truth  ;  or,  more 
properly,  where  little  or  no  Inconveniency  results  from  the  luant  of 
confidence ;  in  such  cases,  not  to  be  lies  ;  that  is,  not  to  be  criminal 
falsehoods.  The  instances,  by  which  he  illustrates  the  doctrine, 
are  those  of  madmen  and  robbers  :  persons  who,  in  the  cases  sup- 
posed, have  no  right  to  know  the  truth  ;  and  to  deceive  whom,  he 
remarks,  in  these  cases,  will  either  very  little,  or  not  at  all,  injure 
the  confidence  of  mankind. 

This  is  one,  among  various  other  unhappy  specimens  of  the 
unhappy  influpnr.fi  of  me  Rule,  prescribed  oy  Dr.  Po/ey,  for  di- 


SER.  CXXVIL]  MISCHIEFS,  ke. 

reeling  the  moral  conduct  of  men ;  viz.  thai  the  rectitude  of  our 
moral  actions  is  to  be  measured  by  their  Expediency,'  or  tjlHity. 
That  Utility  is  the  Foundation  of  Virtue  has,  it  is  believed,  been 
sufficiently  shown  in  a  former  discourse.  That  it  cannot  be  ihe 
Crilcnon  of  virtue  has  alao,  if  i  mistake  not,  been  proved  to  be 
equally  certain.  Indeed,  nothing  is  more  evident,  man  that  the 
moral  actions  of  beings,  who  cannot  possibly  know  what  their 
Consequences  will  be,  cannot  be  safely  directed  by  those  conse- 
quences. In  the  present  case,  however.  Dr.  Pa(ey^t  own  doc- 
trine will  refute  his  position.  His  declaration  is,  that  "falsehoods 
are  npl  lies,  where  the  person,  to  whom  you  speak,  has  no  right  to 
know  the  truth;  or  more  properly,  inhere  Utile  or  no  Inconvtmency 
residtsfrom  the  want  of  confidence  in  such  cases :  as  vihere  you  tell  « 
faliehood  to  a  madman,  for  his  omn  advantage  ,■  to  a  robber,  to 
conceal  your  property  ;  to  an  assassin,  to  defeat,  or  to  divert,  him 
from  his  purpose,"  "  In  each  of  these  cases,"  the  Author  says, 
^' the  particular  good  consequence  will  overbalance  the  general  evil 
consequence  ,■"  and  thence  he  concludes  the  falsehood  to  be 
lawful. 

Two  cases  are  here  staled,  in  v/hich  a  wilful  falsehood  is  pro- 
nounced lo  be  lawful.  One  is  that,  in  which  the  person  in  question, 
has  no  right  lo  know  the  truth.  The  other,  when  little  or  no  incon-at- 
nience  will  result  from  the  falscjtood. 

On  the  first  of  these  I  observe,  that  the  person,  who  is  lo  uller 
the  falsehood,  or  the  truth,  in  the  case  supposed,  is  always  to  de- 
termine whether  the  pereon,  lo  whom  he  speaks,  Mha  right  to 
know  the  truth,  or  not.  This  determination,  also,S|ver  to  be 
made  under  the  influence  of  such  passions,  and  bianes,  as  may 
then  happen  lo  operate.  It  is  impossible,  that  the  decision  should 
fail,  at  least  in  most  cases,  of  being  a  prejudiced,  and  therefore  an 
unsound  one.  The  person,  who  is  entangled  with  a  madman, 
or  assailed  by  a  robber,  or  an  assassin,  must,  at  Ihe  time,  be  a 
very  imperfect  moralist;  and  in  a  very  im|Hb^er  situation  lo  de- 
cide justly  concerning  a  question  of  this  nicety  and  importance. 
What  is  true  in  this  case,  is  equally  true  of  an  infinity  of  others. 
Passion  and  prejudice  would  operate  boundlessly  on  this  subject, 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  human  afiiiiirs  ;  and,  wnerever  ihcy  op- 
erated, would  control.  On  this  very  principle  it  has  been  deci- 
ded by  the  Romish  Church,  that  it  is  lawful  to  lie  to  Huguenots  ; 
because  Huguenots  are  such  enemies  to  God,  as  to  have  no  right 
to  know  the  truth :  a  doctrine,  which  has  probably  done  more'to- 
■wards  corrupting  that  Church,  than  any,  perhaps  than  all,  the 
enormous  errors,  by  which  it  has  been  disgraced.  The  conse- 
quence, as  may  be  easily  seen  in  the  history  of  this  very  fact, 
would  soon  be,  that  few  or  none  of  those,  with  whom  we  had  in- 
tercourse after  this  doctrine  had  become  general,  would,  in  our 
new,  have  a  right  lo  know  the  truth. 
Vol.  m.  63 


,  any 


[  Hu 

Thei 


^QQ  MISCHIEFS  AND  [SER. 

That  there  are  persons,  who,  in  certain  cases,  have  not  a  rigl 
to  know  ihe-lnith  from  uj,  I  readily  grant.     But  it  will   be  difl 
rult  to  show,  tint  we  have  a  ridil  to  ulter  falsehood  to  ihem,  any 
norc  than  to  olhtri.    Wc  may  lawfully  be  silent  in  many  ca» 
we  may  lawfully  conceal  the  truth ;  but  we  can,  in  no  case, 
justified  in  uttering  a  wilful  falsehood. 

With  regard  to  the  other  rule  of  Dr.  Patty,  that  voluntary  fa 
hoods  ctase  to  bt  litSy  when  very  lilllc  inconvenience  tdUI  result  Jr 
»fte  leant  of  confidtnct  vihichfoilows  them  ;  I  observe,  that  it  is  even 
oore  unhappy  than  the  other.  The  degree  of  inconvenience  which 
n  this  case  will  result  to  others,  will  always  be  estimated  by  com- 
paring it  with  the  convenirncf-,  which  the  lalsehood  will  promise  to 
ourselves.  The  convenience,  which  will  overcome  the  natural 
reputfnance  of  conscience  to  wilful  falsehood,  must,  yor  the  Unit, 
be  felt  to  be  considerable.  In  a  comparison  with  a  considerable 
convenience  of  our  own;  an  inconvenience,  experienced  either 
wholly,  or  at  least  chiefly,  by  others,  will  naturally  be  regarded 
as  inconsiderable.  In  almost  all  instances,  therefore,  to  use  the 
words  of  Dr.  Paley,  "  little  or  no  inconvenience  will  result ' 
the  falsehood,"  in  the  view  of  him  who  is  to  utter  it,  and 
makes  this  comparison.  Of  course,  in  almost  all  instances, 
falsehood  will  be  uttered. 

Bill  when  a  man  has  once  accustomed  himself  to  utter  fal 
hood  so  long,  as  to  render  the  practice  familiar,  all  that  appiVi 
hensiveness  of  guilt,  that  ready  susceptibility  of  alarm  at  the  a] 
pearance  of  criminality,  which  constitutes  the  chief  safety  of  " 
in  the  mom«fit  of  temptation,  will  be  extinguished.     The  : 
will  be  no  longer  agitated  at  the  thought  of  sin,  nor  awake  to 
sense  of  danger.     In  this  situation,  the  convenience  of  uttei 
falsehood  to  ourselves  will  always  be  great ;  and  the  inconveni' 
cy,  which  will  result  to  others,  will  be  always  small.     He 
has  uttered  the  first  falsehood  under  the  influence  of  ten  dc^ 
of  temptation,  will  as  readily  utter  the  second,  under  the  infiuencC, 
of  eight ;  the  third,  of  six  ;  the  fourth,  of  four;  the  fifth,  of  two; 
and  the  sixth  without  any  temptation  at  all.     The  obliquity  of  h' 
judgment,  will  now  prevent  him  from  discerning,  that  others  s\ 
lerany  inconvenience  from  his  conduct.     In  this  manner, 
man  living,  ihay  easily  become,  in  a  short  time,  a  conlirmed  „ 

Thus  tne  adoption  of  either  of  these  rules,  and  still  more 
both  of  them,  will  prove  a  complete  destruction  of  that  confidence 
without  which  such  society  cannot  eiisl.  I  need  not  say,  that  ibis 
evil  would  more  than  counterbalance  all  the  good,  which  a  licen- 
tious imagination  has  ever  supposed,  or  can  suppose,  to  be  capa- 
ble of  resulting  from  all  possible  falsehoods,  in  a  degree,  wtuch 
no  nmnbers  can  estimate,  and  no  finite  mind  conceive.  Utilitj 
Itself,  therefore,  absolutely  forbids  the  adoption  of  these  rules. 

But  this  view  of  the  subject  is  imperfect,  and  so  far  error 
The  old  distinction  of  crimes  into  what  are  styled  by  jurists 


PREVENTIVES  OF   LYING.  49g 

n  if,  and  ma/a  prohtbUa,  li  entirely  just,  as  well  as  incalculably 
impririanl.  The  mala  in  it,  are  ikote,  tekich  are  ahsolultly  forhid' 
den  III/  Godj  because  iheyareuniversally  noxious  to  the  Inlelligcnt 
creation,  andunivcrsallydisbonourable  lo  the  Creator.  He,  who 
sees  from  ibe  beginning  to  the  end,  and  discerns  all  the  possible 
consequences  of  all  moral  conduct,  has  thus  pronounced  them  lo 
be  universally  malignant  rn  their  influence  on  Intelligent  beings. 
Main  Proliibita,  are  such  tvils,  as  art  forbidden  m  certain  circwn- 
atances,  which  render  them  tvils  ;  or  for  the  accomplishment  of  cer- 
tain iuifulpurpoica,  which  could  not  otherwise  be  so  well  accom- 
plished. These,  in  the  ordinary  stale  of  things,  would  be  matters 
of  iiiili (Terence ;  and,  unless  prohibited,  would  either  not  be,  or  not 
be  known  to  be,  evils.  Such,  for  example,  was  ihe  eating  of  un- 
clean meats ;  the  assumption  of  the  priest's  office  by  those,  who 
were  not  descendants  of  Aaron ;  and  many  others,  found  in  the 
Jewish  Law. 

Lying  is  a  pre-eminent  evil,  o/'lAe/ormer  c/fl«s.  Accordingly, 
it  is  absolvlily  forbidden  by  God.  The  proof,  that  it  is  such  an 
evil,  furnished  in  the  discourse  on  the  Nature  and  Importance  of 
I.  Truth  and  Veracity,  (the  first  delivered  on  the  TextJ  is,  if  1  mis- 
take not,  complete.  Truth,  and  the  Utterance  of  it,  werethne 
shown  to  be  the  foundation  of  all  society,  and  the  basis  of  all  vir- 
tue and  happiness.  If  this  be  admitted ;  Lyingis  plainly  a  radi- 
cal evil;  tnrealening  the  very  existence  of  the  Divme  Glory,  and 
the  whole  interest  of  the  Intelligent  Universe.  In  the  Scriptures, 
it  is  unconditionally  forbidden,  deeply  censured,  and  teriibly 
threatened.  Whosoever  lovelh,  and  maketk  a  lie,  God  has  said, 
shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  the  heavenly  City ;  but  shall  have  hit 
part  in  the  lake,  mhich  bumtth  with  fire  and  brimstone.  Lying, 
then,  is,  in  this  respect,  infinitely  mischievous;  as  peculiarly  pro- 
voking the  anger  of  God,  and  being  eminently  the  means  of 
eternal  wo.  It  is  to  be  remembered,  that  the  Scriptures  no 
where  relax  on  this  subject;  furnish  no  indulgence  to  the  prac- 
tice; contain  not  a  single  hint  that  Lying  can  never  be  lawful; 
and  are  absolutely  silent  concerning  that  want  of  right  lo  know 
the  truth,  and  tnat  smallness  of  inconvenience  resulting  from 
falsehood,  which  will  make  a  falsehood,  wilfully  uttered,  cease  to 
be  a  lie. 

The  case  is  often  put,  that  a  lie  may  save  ont^s  own  life,  or  the 
I.  lives  of  others.  The  objection,  involved  in  this  case,  is  answered 
^  in  many  forms  by  the  Scriptures.  St.  Paul  declares,  that  the  con- 
demnation of  those,  who  only  reported,  that  be  and  his  companions 
taught  the  doctrine  of  doing  evil,  that  good  might  come,  was  Just, 
What  would  he  have  said  of  those,  who  themselves  taught  this 
doctrine.  But  Lying,  to  save  life,  is  doing  evil,  that  good  may 
come.  Let  no  man  think  this  a  hard  case,  Christ  has  repeatedly 
told  us,  that  Ae,  who  will  save  his  life  by  violating  his  duty,  shall 
lose  il;  and  that  he,ahe  shall  lose  his  life  for  his  sake,  that  is,  by 


I 


^*^*V*=j*^ 


^100  lOSCHIErS  AMD  ppOLCZXfB. 

doing  his  duty,  «Aa//  find  it  in  the  heavens.  With  this  declaratioo 
in  view,  no  man,  it  is  presunM,  will  think  himself  required  to  ut- 
ter  a  lie  for  the  sake  of  saving  his  life.  Had  the  AposUes,  and  the 
Martyrii  thought  proper  to  lie,  they  might  not  only  have  saved 
their  lives,  but  avoided,  also,  all  the  horrors,  and  sufieriugs,  of  ma^ 
lignant  persecution. 

It  has  been  alleged,  ^nd  supposed  to  afford  some  degree  of 
countenance  to  this  sin,  mat  it  was  coorunitted  by  Abraham^  ItmaCj 
Jacobj  and  some  oihA  saiftts  of  ancient  times.  Without  attempt- 
ing to  determine  how  far  the  faults  of  these  eood  men  may  have 
been  diminished  by  their  imperfectly  critical  acquaintance  with 
the  proper  nature  of  moral  conduct,  I  shall  answer  the  allegatioo 
by  this  question  only.  Will  your  sin  be  lessened,  or  fail  of  be- 
ing punished,  because  the  same  sin  was  committed  by  a  jpatii- 
arch  ? 

2.  Lying  produces  incomprehennblt  mischief  to  the  PtMic  coii- 
cems  of  Nations. 

All  eood  government,  asl  have  heretofore  observed,  is  founded 
in  confidence ;  and  all  oppressive  government,  in  forcCi  or  fiaud. 
Governments,  constitutionally  free,  jQpsort  invariably  to  fraud, 
whenever  they  wish  to  oppress.  Even  Despotism  itself  is  com- 
pelled, universally,  to  the  same  resort ;  and  is  afraid,  and  unwil- 
ling, to  rely  on  mere  physical  strength  for  the  accomplishment 
of  its  tyrannical  designs.  It  has  recourse,  therefore,  to  an  un- 
interrupted series  of  art,  and  management,  to  ensure  the  sub- 
mission of  its  subjects.  Of  this  management,  deceit  is  not  mere- 
ly the  chief,  but  in  a  sense  the  only^  means.  All  tyrants  lie ;  and 
he  unceasingly.  All  their  subordinate  agents  are  abandoned 
liars.  Were  the  tyi*ant  himself,  and  the  instruments  of  his  tyran- 
ny, to  lay  aside  their  deception,  the  tyranny  would  tumble  to  the 
ground. 

If  the  Rulers  of  a  nation,  possessing  liberty,  were  invariably  to 
utter  truth ;  it  would  be  impossible  that  the  Government  should 
not  be  well  administered.  Should  such  rulers  fonn  evO  designs 
against  public  or  private  happiness;  an  honest  disclosure  of 
their  purposes  would  defeat  them  of  course.  This  every  ruler, 
who  forms  such  designs,  knows  perfecdy  well ;  and,  therefore, 
he  artfully  misrepresents,  or  studiously  conceals,  them.  But  no 
design  of  any  extent  can  be  executed  without  a  disclosure  to  all 
those,  who  are  necessarily  employed  in  the  execution.  Were 
llese  men  of  integrity,  they  would  disclose  it,  of  course,  to  the  pub- 
lic. Such  men,  therefore,  are  never  voluntarily  employee  by 
rulers  to  accomplish  evit'designs.  Men  of  falsehood  are  invaria- 
bly sought  for  such  purposes,  and  invariably  employed  in  accom- 
plishing them. 

The  person,  who  has  not  read  political  history  with  an  eye  to 
thi^bject,  is  an  incompetent  judge  of  the  immense  extent  to  which 
fiJsaliobd  is  employed  lor  the  purposes  of  oppression,  and  of  the 


«CR.  cxxnL]  PREVcimvEsr  of  rhNo.  5^ 

innumerable  forms,  in  which  it  has  been  played  off  upon  the  u: 
happy  race  of  men  for  their  destruction.    Art  and  trick,  pri 
tence  and  sophistry,  false  declarations  and  false  promises,  ha\ 
ever  been  a  more  formidable  host  of  enemies  to  publlcT  Hbert\ 
safety,  and  happiness,  than  the  sword  and  the  musket,  tHe  duf 
geon  and  the  gibbet.    Falsehood  has  ever  been  the  mine,  b 
which  the  enemies  of  freedom  have  blown  up  her  citadel,  and  bu 
ried  her  votaries  in  the  ruins.     Falsehood  mined  the  freedom  o 
Greece  and  Rome ;  and  overturned  all  the  Republics  of  Mbderi 
Europe.      Without    this  terrible  engine,  the  Romish  Hlerarch} 
would  never  have  raised  its  head  to  Heaven ;  nor  trodden  down 
in  the  dust  the  suflering  nations  of  men.     Without  this  tremendous 
assistant,   the   French  Republic  would  never  have  sprung  int6 
existence ;    nor  offered  up  half  Europe  as  an  holocaust  to  the 
powers  of  darkness.     Banish  falsehooci  from  the  world ;  and  you 
will  redeem  it  from  three-fourths  of  its  sins,  and  from  almost  all 
its  suiTcrings. 

Nations  nave,  in  most  cases,  eagerly  watched  against  the  intru* 
sions  of  power,  and  the  establishment  of  internal  force.  So  far 
they  have  acted  wisely.  But,  without  the  aid  of  falsehood,  no 
force,  beside  that  of  a  foreign  conqueror,  ever  destroyed  public 
liberty.  Against  this  enemy  they  ought  to  watch  with  the  eyes  of 
Argus;  a  creeping,  serpentine  enemy;  advancing  silently,  and 
imperceptibly  ;  equally  unseen,  and  unsuspected.  If  they  were 
willing  to  become  wise  by  the  miserable  experience  of  those,  who 
have  goQre  before  them ;  thejr  would  know,  that  their  supreme 
danger  lies  here ;  that  every  ruler  who  flatters  them,  that  every 
demagogue,  is  a  liar ;  that  he  deceives  them  for  his  own  advantage, 
not  for  theirs  ;  for  the  overthrow  of  their  liberty,  not  for  its  est^ 
lishment ;  for  the  ruin  of  their  interests,  not  for  their  peace,  pros- 
perity,  or  safety. 

If  a  ruler  hearken  to  liesj .  says  Solomon,  all  his  servants  at 
wickecL  Judementj  saith  the  prophet  Isaiah,  is  turned  away  back 
xoard ;  and  Justice  standeth  afar  off.  What  was  the  source  ( 
these  calamities  ?  Let  the  prophet  himself  answ-er.  Truth  \ 
f alien  in  the  streets^  and  therefore  Equity  cannot  enter.  It  is  th' 
Glorious  Character  of  Him,  whose  Dominion  is  as  the  light  of  th 
ff^orningj  of  a  morning  withoiU  clouds,  and  as  the  clear  shining,  oj 
tk€  sun  after  rain  tftm  the  tender  herb  of  the  field,  that  He  shal 
hidge  the  people  with  Truth.  It  is  a  divine  characteristic  of  th' 
infinite  Ruler,  that  his  paths  are  Mercy  and  TnUhi  Such  mus ' 
be  the  character  of  earthly  Rulers,  if  they  would  be  Ministers  of; 
God  for  gt/odj   or  if  their  subjects  are  to  be  either  safe,  o 

But  we  need  not  appeal  to  a  numerous  train  of  Scriptural  texti 
f<K' instruction  on.  this  subject.  In -the  144th  I^salm  there  is  the 
sUongest,.  and  perhaps  the  moat  com^ehensive,  exhibition  of  ltd 
importance,  which  can  be  found  even  in  the  Scriptural  pagesi'iind 


f^  IDSCHIErS  ANI>  [SER.  CXXVIL 

which  ever  will  be  found  in  the  language  of  men.  In  this  portion 
of  the  sacred  canon,  David^  contemplating  the  wars,  in  which  he 
had  been,  and  more  probably  those,  in  wmch  he  was  at  that  yeij 
time,  engaged ;  remembering  the  usual  care,  and  good  provideDce, 
of  God,  exercised  towards  nim  in  his  contests  with  his  enemies; 
and  feeling,  that  this  was  amply  sufficient  for  his  safety,  and  suc- 
cess, in  every  case  of  hostility,  waged  by  open  force  ;  breaks  oat 
in  a  joyful  song  of  exultation  for  these  blessmgs,  as  already  mrtlj 
received,  and  as  partly  secured  to  hlin  for  the  time  to  come.  BUu- 
ed  be  Jehovah,  my  strength^  who  ieacheth  my  hands  io  war^  ad 
my  fingers  to  Jight :  My  goodness j  and  my  fortress^  my  high  timer 
ana  my  deliverer ^  my  shield,  and  he,  in  whom  I  trust  /  mho  sttbdudk 
my  people  under  me. 

After  some  short  reflections  on  the  humble,  and  undeserving, 
character  of  man,  naturally  excited  by  the  contemplation  of  these 
{  mercies,  he  turns  his  eye  to  the  state  of  his  own  kingdom,  pro- 

bably convulsed  at  that  time  by  the  rebellion  of  Absalom  ;  a  Rebel- 
lion, generated,  and  supported,  by  falsehood ;  he  exclaims,  Bw 
thy  hitiens,  0  Jehovah,  arid  come  down  ;  to%itch  the  mountains,  tad 
they  shall  smoke :  cast  forth  lightnxns,  and  scatter  them  :  shoot  cvt 
thine  arrows,  and  destroy  them :  send  thine  hand  from  above :  rd 
me,  and  deliver  me,  out  of  the  great  waters,  from  the  hand  ofstranp 
children  /  whose  mouth  speaketh  vanity,  (that  is,  lies)  and  their  right 
hand  is  a  right  hand  of  falsehood.  To  this  great  man,  the  ordina- 
ry blessings  of  God's  providence  to  him  and  his  [>eopIe  appea^ 
ed  a  defence  amply  sufficient,  and  sources  of  victory  sure  and 
abundant,  against  the  violence  of  ^hr,  and  enemies  in  arms.  But, 
«  when  he  came  to  consider  the  danger,  which  threatened  his  go- 
vernment and  nation  from  the  insidious  attacks  of  deception,  he 
fell,  that  a  new  and  singular  interference  of  God  was  necessary 
fat  the  deliverance  of  himself,  and  his  people.  Then  it  became  ne- 
cessary, that  God  should  bow  the  heavens,  and  come  down;  thai  be 
should  set  the  mountains  on  fire  ;  that  he  jhould  cast  forth  his 
lightning,  to  scatter,  and  shoot  out  his  arrows,  te  Astray  these  chil' 
dren'of  falsehood.  Such  in  his  view  was  the  danger  to  the  peo- 
ple of  Israel  from  the  deceptions,  practised  upon  them,  that  no- 
thing less  than  these  wonderful  exertions  of  Divine  Power  would 
insure  their  safety.  *'  ;*    ^ 

At  the  same  time,  he  infprms  us  in  the  strongest  terms,  that  a 
deliverance  from  this  terrible  kind  of  waRare,  from  the  spirit 
which  generated  it,  and  from  the  persons  by  whom  it  was  ca^ 
ried  on,  was  indispensable  to  the  internal  prosperity  of  the  nation, 
both  moral  and  secular.  Rid  me,  he  exclaims  again,  and  deliver 
me  from  the  hand  of  strange  childr^,  whose  mouth  speaketh  lies, 
ana  whose  right  hand  is  a  right  hand  of  falsehood:  that  our  sons 
may  be  as  plants,  grown  up  in  their  youth  l  that  our  daughters  may 
he  as  corner-stones,  polished  after  the  sinmittMe  of  a  palace  /  that 
our  gamers  may  be  full^  affording  all  manner  of  store  ;  that  our 


8ER.  CXZVn.]  PREVEimVES  OF  LTDIQ.  503 

sheep  may  bring  forth  thousands  and  ten  thousands  in  owr  streets  f 
shot  our  oxen  may  be  strong  to  labour  ;  that  there  be  no  breaking  m, 
nor  going  out ;  that  there  be  no  complaining  in  our  streets.  Happy^ 
he  subjoins,  is  that  people^  that  is  in  such  a  case^  yea^  happy  is  that 
people^  whose  God  is  Jehovah. 

These  are  blessings,  which  cannot  be  found  in  a  nation,  among 
whom  falsehood  prevails.  There,  men  will  not  labour  to  produce 
them  :  there,  God  will  not  cive  them.  They  are  blessing  whicB 
Truth  leads  in  her  train ;  bie^ings,  whidh  God  showers  upon  a 
people,  who  love  truth*  But  at  the  approach  of  falsehood  they 
shrink,  languish,  and  expire. 

All  this,  It  is  to  be  remembered,  was  written  by  David;  one  of 
the  greatest  and  wisest  men,  whom  the  world  has  ever  seen.  He 
knew  by  experience  every  danger  from  war ;  from  open  enemies^ 
embodied  in  powerful  armies.  By  the  same  experience  he  was 
perfectly  acquainted,  also,  with  the  evils,  which  spring  from  false- 
nood.  The  evils  of  the  latter  class  he  perceivea,  by  actual  trial, 
to  be  immensely  greater  than  those  of  tne  former.  In  these  ob- 
servations he  has  barely  told  us  what  passed  under  his  own  eye, 
and  constituted  his  own  case.  Nay  more,  he  has  told  all  this  di- 
rectly to  his  Maker;  and  in  a  Psalm,  addressed  directly  to  him, 
has  poui*ed  forth  the  praises,  which  he  esteemed  due,  and  prayed 
for  the  assistance,  which  he  deemed  necessary.  In  these  circum- 
stances, the  sincerity  of  the  suppliant  cannot  be  questioned. 

But  it  is  further  to  be  remembered,  that  this  Psalm  was  dictated 
by  the  inspiration  of  God.  It  is  all,  therefore,  exacdy  just,  and 
true.  Nothing  is  diminished :  nothing  is  exaggerated.  Falsehood 
is  just  so  much  more  dangerous,  in  the  ordinary  circumstances  of 
mankind,  than  war;  it^  evils  .are  just  so  much  more  terrible;  and 
peculiar  interpositions  of  Gpd,  to  deliver  mankind  from  their  effi- 
cacy, are  in  this  very  manner  indispensable.  Truth,  also,  is  accoo^ 
panied,  and  followed  by  all  these  blessings;  blessings  which,  fairly 
understood,  involve  the  whole  prosperity  of  a  people.  At  the  same 
time,  falsehood  either  prevents,  or  destroys,  tnem  all :  or,  in  other 
words,  ruins  the  nation  in  which  it  prevails. 

3.  Falsehood  is  equally  pernicious  to  the  Private  interests  ofman^ 
kind. 

A  great  proportion  of  all  their  miscarriages  in  the  pursuit  of 
happiness  are  suffered  by  mankind  from  Intentional  Misinforma^ 
iion  only.  A  man  is  falsely  informed  of  the  state  of  the  markets ; 
and  conveys  his  property  to  a  ruinous  sale.  He  wishes  to  employ 
an  aeent,  to  manage,  his  business  ;  to  instruct  his  children ;  or  to 

J)lead  his  cause,  lie  wishes  to  employ  a  physician,  to  attend  his 
amily  in  cases  of  sickness,  or  a  clergyman  to  preach  for  himself, 
and  his  neighbours.  The  character  of  each  of  these  men  is  repre- 
sented to  him  falsely.  Of  consequence,  hi^  ^business  is  misman- 
aged; his  children  are  half-taught ;  his  cause  is  lost  by  ignorance, 
or  treachery ;  hi]}  family  are  hastened  to  the  grave  by  an  empiric ; 


und  himself,  and  his  neighbours,  by  false  exhibitions  of  the  Gospd, 
are  led  to  perdition.  The  beg^  cheats  him  by  a  Baise  tale  of 
wo.  The  false  friend  betrays  hafuterests,  and  his  secrets.  A  £aLbe 
witness  swears  away  his  rights:  and  a  fiaJse  judge  perverts  the  law  to 
his  ruin.  A  flatterer  deceives  him  into  fatal  apprehensions  concern* 
ing  his  own  excellencies.  A  censurer  breaks  his  spirits  by  unfoood- 
ed,  and  malignant,  representations  of  his  defects  :  and  a  sopiutt 
cheats  him  out  of  truth,  virtue,  and  heaven.  The  frauds  practise!^ 
on  our  fellow-men,  which  were  either  recited,  or  alludea  to,  int 
preceding  discourse  on  that  subject,  are  all  perpetrated  by  the  in- 
,  strumentality  of  falsehddd.  This  Harpy  seizes  on  every  human  ea- 
joyment,  and  on  everv  human  interest ;  destroys  whatever  ii  in 
ner  power;  and  pollutes,  and  distresses,  wherever  she  is  unable 
to  destroy. 

4.  Ilqutdly  ptrnicious  is  Falsehood  to  the  PersonalintertsU  of  iU 
Imt  himself. 

The  importance  of  this  truth  will  appear  in  the  following  parti- 
culars. 

In  the  First  Place.  Lying  is  always  followed  by  Reproaehes  tf 
CimsfMnee. 

Mankind  with  a  single  voice  have  pronounced  Lying  to  be  a 
gross  and  enormous  sin.  This  is  the  dictate  of  every  other  reli- 
gion, and  every  other  law,  as  well  as  of  the  law  and  the  religjoe 
of  God.  To  this  universal  testimony,  the  conscience  of  eveij 
individual  unites  its  own  solemn  accord ;  and  whenever  a  lie  is  ot- 
tered, proclaims  the  guilt  of  the  criminal  with  an  affecting  and  aw- 
ful voice.  At  the  sound  of  this  remonstrance,  the  soul  trembles, 
and  shrinks ;  and  before  the  bar  of  this  severe  judge,  is  compelled 
to  plead  guilty,  without  a  hope  of  escape. 

Ifor  is  it  compelled  only  to  acknowledge  its  gyedt^  but  also 
clearly  to  see,  and  deeply  to  feel,  its  peculiar  iehaseratnX.  A  liar 
is  obliged  irresistibly  to  feel  that  he  is  sunk  below  the  level  of 
men.  His  mind  is  a  house  of  pollution ;  a  haunt  of  every  des* 
picable  purpose,  and  every  degrading  thought.  Thus  his  char- 
acter, as  seen  by  himself,  lies  upon  him  like  a  heavy  hcitim,  too 
grievous  to  be  borne  ;  a  load,  which  he  can  neither  carry,  nor  lay 
down. 

In  the  mean  time,  Conscience,  faithful  to  her  oflSce,  holds  up 
to  his  view  in  terrible  forebodings  the  anger  of  God  against  ly- 
ing lips;  and  presents  to  him  alarming  anticipations  of  the  dread- 
ful account,  which  he  will  be  obliged  to  give  at  the  future  Judg- 
>  ment.  Such,  I  mean,  is  the  fact,  unless,  through  the  want  of  a  re- 
ligious education,  he  is  destitute  of  moral  principle ;  or  by  a  repe- 
tition of  crimes,  his  Conscience  has  become  seared^  as  with  an  kst 
iron. 

Secondly.     Tlu  Liar  is  continually  tormented  by  the  /ear  of  ds^ 
tectionm 


8EK.CXXVIL]  PREYENTiyES.OF  LYING.  .  ^gQ^ 

A  liar  is  never  safe.  It  is  so  much  the  interest  of  mankind  to  ex- 
pose this  crime ;  and  it  is  so  often  actuallj^  exposed ;  that  the  danger 
IS  always  great,  and  always  felt  by  the  criminal.  Should  a  detection 
take  place ;  the  consequences,  he  knows,  must  be  distressing.    The 
shame,  the  hatred,  the  contempt,  and  the  punishment,  which  in  this  [ 
case  will  arrest  him,  he  knows  not  how  to  meet  with  a  steady  eye.  ', 
His  terrified  mind  is,  therefore,  in  a  perpetual  alarm ;  and  sees  [ 
these  evils  always  at  the  door.     The  path  of  life,  therefore,  is  to 
him  a  hedge  of  thorns* 

Thirdly.     Should  he  be  detected^  as  he  invariably  will  be,  he  is  , 
compelled  to  suffer  many  excruciating  eviUm 

rarticularly,  he  is  necessitated  to  invent  many  falsehoods,  to 
gain  the  object,  or  prevent  the  evils,  of  one. 

Truth  is  always  plain  and  consistent ;  the  highway,  in  which 
the  loau-faring  man,  though  a  fooly  need  not  err.  Falsehood  is  a 
by-path  ;  crooked,  perplexed,  and  blind ;  in  which  every  travel- 
ler is  soon  bewildered  and  lost.  No  liar  can  possibly  foresee  either 
the  nature,  or  the  number,  of  the  diflBculties,  into  which  he  will 
plunge  himself  by  a  single  lie.  These  difficulties  he  will  often 
feel  himself  compelled  to  obviate,  by  such  means  as  are  in  his 
power.  Usually,  no  other  means  will  offer  themselves  to  him  for 
this  purpose  beside  a  succession  of  lies.  Thus,  one  falsehood,  in 
a  sense,  necessarily  draws  after  it  another,  and  another.  Nor  is 
any  mind,  which  begins  this  CQurse,  sufficiently  comprehensive  to 
know  w  here  it  will  end. 

Those,  whom  he  has  deceived,  also,  will  often  resent,  and  often 
severely  revenge,  the  abuse.  In  one  manner,  and  another,  he  is 
not  unfrcquently  punished  with  severity.  Always  he  is  disgraced, 
reproached,  stung  with  contempt,  and  insulted  with  derision.  De- 
cent men  shun  his  company.  Parents  warn  their  children  to  be- 
ware of  him.  The  finger  of  scorn  points  him  out,  the  hiss  of  in- 
famy follows  him  in  the  street.  Even  villains,  of  most  other  sorts, 
feel  themselves  superior  to  him. 

His  reputation,  of  course,  is  lost.  Those,  whom  he  has  de- 
ceived, will  take  sure  and  exemplary  vengeance  in  publishing  the 
deception  to  the  world.  His  rivals  will  trumpet  it,  to  rise  above 
him  :  his  kindred  villains,  to  turn  the  eyes  of  mankind  from  their 
own  guilt.  Should  they  even  be  silent,  he  will  disclose  it  himself. 
The  safety,  and  success,  which  he  has  found  in  uttering  one  false- 
hood, will  embolden  him  to  utter  another,  and  another,  uniil  he  is 
detected.  When  this  is  done,  he  sinks  speedily  into  absolute  con- 
tempt. The  proverb,  "  once  a  liar  and  always  a  liar,^^  will  meet 
him,  as  a  label,  from  every  mouth  in  the  street. 

In  this  character,  all  persons  will  feel  themselves  to  be  his  su- 
periors ;  and  will  take  effectual  care  to  announce  this  superiority. 
The  tongues  of  multitudes  will  proclaim  it  in  the  most  stinging 
terms.  The  eyes  of  more  will  look  down  upon  him  with  haughti- 
ness and  scorn :  while  the  conduct  of  all  will  attest  his  degrada- 
VoL.  III.  64 


I^yg  BaSGHIRFS  AlVD  {BEB^  dUL 

tion  with  a  visible  mixture  of  pity  and  abhorrence.  Of  coiffse, 
he  will  be  obliged  to  feel,  as  well  as  to  appear,  only  in  the  cha^ 
tCter  of  a  mean,  debased  wretch ;  inferior  to  his  kind  ;  and  to  ad 
an  under,  servile  part  in  every  scene  of  life.  He  can  maintaii 
no  cause ;  assert  no  fact ;  make  no  promise  ;  face  no  man ;  and 
meet  no  eye  :  but  is  forced  to  falter,  and  fall,  even  before  those, 
with  whom  he  would  once  have  disdained  to  acknowledge  ao  ac- 
quaintance. 

As  he  loses  all  confidence;  he  loses,  with  it,  eveiy  opportuiHtr 
of  acquiring  useful  and  reputable  employment.  Kone  will  trust 
him  with  their  property ;  none  will  commit  to  him  their  business; 
because  all  will  expect  to  be  rewarded  by  him  with  baseness  aod 
treachery. 

But  all  men  are  dependent  on  their  fellow-men.  PecuUailrii 
this  true  of  those,  who  are  young.  Every  youth  is  necessitaMb 
lean  in  no  small  degree,  on  those,  who  are  already  in  possoMi 
of  the  great  business  of  mankind.  Veracity,  to  them,  is  the  door 
to  confidence  ;  confidence,  to  useful  employment ;  and  useful  ca- 
ployment,  to  property,  reputation,  influence,  and  a  prosperous  and 
useful  life.  This  door  the  liar  has  voluntarily  shut  against  hia- 
self ;  and  can  be  admitted  neither  to  the  good  offices,  nor  even  to 
the  company,  of  those,  on  whom  he  chiqpy  depends,  under  God, 
for  every  worldly  blessing. 

Thus  he  involves  himself  in  innumerable  distresses ;  and  ex- 
poses himself  to  innumerable  temptations.  He  is  poor,  almost  of 
course.  Honest  poverty  is  always,  and  most  deservedly,  respect- 
able. But  poverty,  which  grows  out  of  vice,  ensures  contempt 
and  abhorrence ;  and  is  encircled  by  numberless  temptations, 
which  honest  poverty  never  knew.  I  have  already  observed,  that 
the  liar  is  almost  irresistibly  prompted  to  a  succession  of  hht- 
hoods,  in  order  to  escape  the  dangers  of  the  first.  To  these  be  is 
strongly  solicited  to  add  perjury  ;  to  corrupt  others,  that  be  may 
countenance  himself;  to  cheat,  that  he  may  acquire  what  he  can- 
not gain  by  lying ;  and  to  steal,  that  he  may  possess  himself  d 
what  he  cannot  gain  by  cheating. 

All  these  scandalous  vices  are  soon  fixed  into  habits :  and  these 
habits,  every  day,  acquire  new  accessions  of  strength.  His  cfc- 
clension,  therefore,  is  rapid  and  dreadful.  From  the  company, 
conversation,  and  example,  of  good  men,  indulged  more  or  less  to 
most  sinners,  he  is  excluded  of  course.  Virtue  may  pity,  but  can- 
not consort  with  him.  His  touch  is  contagious ;  and[  his  very 
breath  carries  infection  with  it,  wherever  he  goes.  By  this  cicfci- 
sion,  he  loses  a  blessing  of  more  value,  than  all  the  good,  which 
falsehood  ever  sought,  or  found. 

In  this  manner  he  goes  on,  hardening  his  heart,  and  pollotiog 
his  life.  His  conscience  becomes  seared ;  and  sooner  than  k 
could  have  originally  mistrusted,  he  is  given  over  to  a  reprohate 


8i3t  CXZVn]  FREVENnVES  Of  LTINQ.  507 

mind.    In  the  end,  he  dies  a  bitter  death ;  and  closes  a  shamefuli 
wretched  life,  with  a  miserable  eternity. 

The  Preventives  of  this  deplorable  vice  may  be  advantaceously 
considered  a5  they  respect  children  under  the  education  of  their  pa*  ' 
rents  J  and  persons  arrived  at  years  of  discretion. 

The  foundation  of  all  moral  good  is  best  laid  in  childhood. 
This  season,  therefore,  is  to  be  regarded  as  of  supreme  import- 
ance, and  husbanded  for  this  great  purpose  with  supreme  solici* . 
ttide.  I  shall  address  my  observations  on  this  subject  directly  to 
Parents.  To  accomplish  this  invaluable  end,  so  indispensable  to 
the  present  and  eternal  welfare  of  your  children.  Teach  them, 

1.  Always  to  speak  truth,  by  precept  and  example. 

Inculcate  on  them,  from  the  moment  in  which  they  are  able  to 

fik  at  all,  and  inculcate  daily,  the  immense  importance  of  speak- 
truth.  Truth  is  so  much  more  easily^  and  so  much  more  natural- 
spoken  than  falsehood,  that  children  usually  speak  truth  or 
course.  Facts  always  present  it ;  the  mind  always  perceives  i! ; 
the  tongue  always  utters  it ;  without  effort  or  contrivance.  False- 
hood, on  the  contrary,  must  ever  be  invented,  and  continually  la- 
boured into  existence.  Before  this  labour  has  commenced,  truth 
must  be  effectually  impressed  on  the  conscience,  and  instamped 
on  the  heart. 

leach  ihem,  that  Veracity  is  inestimably  useful ;  that  it  will 
make  them  lo«red,  trusted,  honoured,  and  befriended ;  and  will  save 
them  from  shame,  neglect,  reproach,  and  poverty,  from  extreme 
humiliation,  and  the  terrors  of  a  condemning  conscience.  Teach 
them,  that  Lying  will  prevent  all  these  blessings,  and  entail  upon 
them  all  these  sufferings ;  that  it  will  wither  their  reputation,  their 
comforts,  and  their  hopes  ;  that,  deformed  with  this  sin,  they  will 
he  pitied  by  every  good,  and  insulted  by  every  bad,  man ;  that 
their  enemies  will  tread  them  under  foot,  while  their  friends  can- 
not protect  them;  and  that  their  character,  when  once  habitually 
blackened  by  falsehood,  can  never  be  made  white  again. 

Teach  them,  that  every  eauivocal,  every  prevaricating,  every 
evasive,  expression,  every  tning  wUch  partakes  of  duplicity,  is 
radically  a  lie  ;  and  that,  if  they  indulge  themselves  in  these  hum- 
bler efforts  of  falsehood,  they  will  soon  sink  to  the  lowest  degra- 
dations of  villany* 

Teach  them,  that  the  Eternal  God,  the  God  of  Truth,  to  whom 
sving  lips  are  an  abomination,  hears,  marks,  and  recoids,  every 
tning,  which  they  speak  ;  and  that  this  record  will  be  the  founda- 
tion of  their  final  sentence  at  the  Great  Day. 

Discourage  in  them,  at  all  times,  a  propensity  to  idle  talk ;  to 
story-telling ;  particularly  to  the  telling  ot  marvellous  stories ;  the 
recital  of  private  history ;  the  news  of  the  neighbourhood ;  and 
the  giving  of  characters.  Lead  them  carefully,  whenever  they 
converse  concerning  others,  to  such  conversation,  and  such  onlyy. 
as  is  prudent,  and  kind:  and  accustom  them  to  feel.  'h»t    •-v  * 


508 


IflSCHIEFS  AlfD  [SEEL  CXXm 


they  cannot  speak  of  others  in  this  manner,  it  is  usually  both  thrir 

duty,  and  their  interest,  not  to  speak  at  all.     Teach  them  faith- 

'  fully  to  keep,  and  never  to  betray,  the  secrets  entrusted  to  them, 

^'  and  effectually  repress  in  them  a  disposition  to  pry  into  the  pe^ 

sonal  and  domestic  concerns  of  others. 

What  you  thus  communicate  by  your  instruction,  endeavour  to 
complete  by  your  example.  Show^  on  all  occasions,  the  most 
solemn,  and  the  most  intense,  regard  to  truth.  Speak  truth  to 
them  exactly,  on  every  occasidn,  whether  in  earnest,  or  in  jest. 
Promise  them  nothing,  which  you  do  not  faithfully  resolve  to  fulfil 
*  Fulfil  faithfully  all  that  you  promise,  however  difiBicult,  or  incon- 
venient, may  be  the  fulfilment.  If  at  any  time,  and  by  any  cir- 
cumstances, they  are  led  to  suppose,  that  you  have  failed  to  per- 
form your  promise  exactly ;  or  if  the  performance  has  at  any  tmie, 
subsequent  to  the  promise,  become  unlawful,  or  impossible ;  care- 
fully remove  every  suspicion,  which  they  may  entertain  concerning 
your  veracity,  by  a  diligent  explanation  of  every  doubtful,  or  un- 
known circumstance  ;  and  show  them,  that  your  conduct  has  been 
strictly  conformed  to  the  rigid  dictates  of  truth. 

At  the  same  time,  oblige  them  to  fulfil  all  their  own  promises, 
however  self-denying  the  fulfilment  may  be  to  them,  and  however 
expensive,  or  troublesome,  to  you.  This  discipline  will,  ere  long, 
teach  them  not  to  promise  rashly,  and  to  regard  every  promise, 
which  they  make,  as  sacred  and  unalterable. 

Universally,  make  the  establishment  of  an  unwarping  veracity 
in  their  minds,  a  prime,  and  ever-present,  object  of  your  parental 
labours  ;  and,  until  this  object  is  accomplished,  devote  to  it  the 
energy  of  your  minds,  and  the  efibrts  of  your  lives. 

2.  Prevent  then^from  keeping  Company  with  deceitful  persons.   * 
Forbid  them  absolutely  to  consort  with  those,  who  are  known  to 

be  of  this  character.  Restrain  them  from  every  place,  frequented 
by  such  persons;  from  taverns;  from  public  corners  ;  from  iiorse- 
races ;  and,  universally,  from  every  loungine  idle  resort.  The 
)lague  is  usually  taken  by  infection.  He,  therefore,  who  is  on 
lealthy  ground,  will  be  safe.  Sufier  your  children,  then,  on  no 
occasion  to  become  the  companions  of  loose,  immoral  persons.  Of 
them  your  children  will  learn  to  lie,  of  course ;  and  that^  however 
faithful  may  be  your  instructions,  and  however  unspotted  your  ex- 
ample. Remember,  yourselves,  and  teach  them,  tnat  the  company 
ion  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed. 

3.  If  your  children  are  at  any  time  guilty  of  deceit ;  endeavmir  by 
the  best  means  in  your  power  to  prevent  every  future  transgression  of 
the  same  nature. 

Rehearse  to  them,  solemnly  and  kindly,  all  the  interesting  con- 
siderations, which  I  have  mentioned,  and  every  other  useful  thought, 
which  your  own  minds  may  suggest.  Present  to  them,  particular- 
ly, clear,  affecting  views  of  their  guilt,  and  their  danger;  and 
forcibly  exhibit  to  them  the  ruinous  efficacy  of  falsehood  on  every 


h( 


«  - 


• 


8EB.  CXXVIL]  FREVENTIVES  OF  LTDfQ.  5()Q 

interest  of  time,  and  eternity.  If  the  transgression  demands  a 
punishment ;  never  administer  it  in  a  passion.  Delay  the  admin- 
istration, not  only  until  you  are  firee  from  every  resentful  emotion,  ^ 
but  until  you  are  secure  of  preserving  your  equanimity  in  spite  of  '" 
any  incidental  provocation,  and  are  absolutely  collected,  and  self- 
controlled.  In  this  state  of  mind,  accompany  the  discipline  with 
solemn  instructions,  calm  reproofs,  and  affectionate  testimonies  of 
the  mingled  pain  and  pity,  with  which  you  regard  the  guilty  trans- 
action 

If  one  punishment,  if,  for  example,  correction,  fails  of  producing 
a  reformation ;  vary  your  inflictions,  successively,  through  the 
several  modes  of  discipline,  until  you  have  gained  the  object. 
Shame,  or  confinement,  will  often  accomplish  what  correction  can- 
not. If  these  prove  ineffectual ;  the  denial  of  favourite  indulgences, 
and  the  deprivation  of  customary  privileges,  will  often  produce 
Information.  A  string  may  almost  always  be  struck,  which  will 
accord  with  the  state  of  the  heart ;  an  effort  made,  which  will  ensure 
a  victory. 

In  the  mean  time,  if  your  child  is  charged  with  some  other  fault, 
ahd  frankly  tells  the  truth  concerning  it ;  remit  either  the  whole, 
or  a  part,  of  the  punishment,  due  to  his  crime,  discretionarily ;  as  m 
proof  of  the  hign  value  which  you  place  upon  his  veracity. 

4.  Commend  them  to  the  constant  care  and  blessing  of  God. 

Except  the  Lord  keep  the  city^  the  watchman  waketh  in  vain*  As 
God  alone  can  preserve  them ;  so,  if  you  ask  Him  in  earnest,  you 
have  every  reason  to  hope  that  He  zoilL 

I  shall  now  address  tne  subject  to  all  such  persons  as  have  ar- 
rived at  that  period  of  Ufe,  in  which  they  are  capable  of  taking 
some  useful  care  of  themselves.  To  such  persons  the  following 
directions  may  be  means  of  guarding  against  this  fatal  evil. 

1 .   Watch  faithfully  over  your  speech* 

Consider,  before  you  speak,  whether  what  you  are  about  to  say  is 
true,  right,  kind,  and  useful ;  or  false,  unkind,  and  mischievous ; 
and  determine  to  utter  nothing,  until  you  are  satisfied.  Steadily 
resist  a  propensity  to  talk  much;  remembering,  that  in  a  multitude 
of  words  there  wanteth  not  sin :  and  never  speak  at  all,  unless  some 
good  purpose  be  answered ;  unless  some  useful  information  be  giv- 
en ;  some  innocent  pleasure  communicated ;  or  some  other  lawful 
end  accomplished. 

Resist  a  disposition  to  give  characters  ;  to  recite  family-news  }  to 
expose  private  failings  ;  and  to  ridicule  personal  imperfections. 
Ask  yourselves  whether  you  would  be  willing,  that  your  own 
feilings  should  be  published,  repeated,  and  ridiculed.  Remember, 
that  others,  thus  attacked,  will  feel  as  you  would  feel ;  and  that, 
as  you  would  resent  such  a  base  intrusion  upon  your  peace,  so 
they,  when  in  the  same  manner  wounded  by  you,  will  become 
yoiu*  enemies ;  and  will  sooner  or  later  find  an  opportunity  of 
making  you  feel  their  resentment.    Remember  further,  that  even 


*     m 


.      *» 


8ER.  CXXVn.]  FBEVENnVES  OF  LYING.  ^]1 

ence  of  such  a  man  shall  force  your  eyes,  when  they  meet  his,  to 
labour,  linger,  and  fall. 

Resolve  firmly  never  to  flatter  any  man*     Speak  that,  which  is 

ffood,  of  others,  when  you  can  ;  and  when  you  cannot,  speak,  at 
east  in  ordinary  cases,  nothing.  Remember,  that  a  flattering 
mouth  worketh  ruin  for  him  who  flatters,  as  well  as  for  him  who  is 
flattered.  Be  able,  therefore,  with  Elihu  nobly  to  say.  Let  me  not^ 
Iprayyouy  accept  anyman^s  person^  neither  let  me  give  flattering 
titles  unto  man.  For  I  know  not  to  give  flattering  titles :  in  so 
doins  my  Maker  would  soon  take  me  away.  To  strengthen  your 
resolutions,  remember  alway,  that,  when  you  are  once  embarked 
in  deceit,  you  are  wholly  afloat;  will  be  driven  you  know  not 
whither  without  either  compass  or  pilot ;  and  will  be  environed  by 
rocks  and  shoals,  threatening  you  unceasingly  with  irremediable 
destruction. 

3,  Frequent  the  Company  of  Wise  and  Good  men  only. 

In  this  society  you  will  nnd  temptations,  not  spread  before  you, 
but  taken  away  ;  examples,  which  will  not  corrupt,  but  strengthen 
you  in  virtue.  Here  you  will  always  find  honour,  peace,  and  profit, 
instead  of  shame,  anxiety,  and  ruin.  If  you  will  seek  this  society, 
and  this  only ;  you  will  be  welcomed  to  their  esteem,  and  good 
offices  ;  and  will  gain  fi'om  their  precepts  and  example,  wisaom, 
truth,  noble  sentiments,  and  the  most  excellent  conduct.  These 
they  will  enforce  by  ten  thousand  motives,  unthought  of  by  licen- 
tious men,  instinctively  rising  up  to  view,  presented  in  strong 
lights,  and  exhibited  with  powerful  persuasion.  The  excellency, 
usefulness,  and  glory,  of  virtue  they  will  unfold  to  you  in  many 
ways,  of  which  loose  men  never  entertain  a  thought,  and  of  which 
you  yourselves  have  probably  not  formed  a  conception.  This 
aivine  object,  also,  they  will  commend  to  your  adoption  by  the 
charms  of  an  amiable,  honourable,  and  delightful  Example,  Their 
sentiments  you  will  imbibe,  even  before  you  are  aware.  Their 
exalted  spirit  you  will  catch.  Their  dignified  life  you  will  make 
your  own. 

Here,  you  will  soon  learn  to  wonder,  to  be  astonished,  that 
yourselves,  that  any  being  who  possesses  a  rational  mind,  could 
ever  frequent, .  or  ever  (Sink  for  a  moment  of  firequenting,  the 
haunts  ot  licentious  men ;  the  scenes  of  profaneness,  gaming, 
fraud,  and  falsehood ;  where  darkness  spreads  her  funeral  pall ; 
where  oaths  and  obscenity,  lies  and  blasphemies,  furnish  a  dread- 
ful prelude  to  a  more  enormous  perpetration  of  the  same  foul  sins 
in  tne  world  of  perdition.  To  exchange  the  society  which  I  have 
recommended  for  these  haunts,  would,  in  your  own  view,'  be  to 
quit  the  splendours  of  a  palace  for  the  loathsome  horrors  of  a  jail ; 
to  wander  from  the  sweets  of  Eden  into  the  gloom,  the  chains,  and 
the  madness,  of  a  dungeon. 

4.  To  strengthen  yourselves  in  all  the  conduct^  which  I  have  r€- 
commended^  labour  to  fix  in  your  minds  a  strongs  solemn^  and  ha- 
bUual^  sense  of  the  amazing  importance  of  speaking  truth  alway. 


^^^v^ 


^19  IHBCIIIEFS  AND  [8EB. 

Truth  is  the  foundation  of  all  virtue,  and  of  all  permanent  hap- 
piness. Establish  this  great  doctrine  in  your  minds  so,  that  it 
shall  never  be  forgotten ;  so,  that  it  shall  be  a  part  of  your  whole 
train  of  thinking,  and  inwoven,  as  an  habitual,  commanding  prin- 
ciple, in  all  your  conduct.  Bring  it  home  to  your  hearts ;  and 
spurn  at  the  thought  of  regarding  it  even  with  a  momentary  indif- 
ference. 

Remember,  that  Confidence  is  the  foundation  of  all  good ;  that 
unless  you  can  confide  in  others,  you  cannot  live  a  single  day  with 
comfort,  or  even  with  safety ;  that  you  can  confide  no  farther  than 
otliers  speak  truth,  and  fultil  promises  ;  and  that  universal  distrust 
would,  to  yourselves  and  others,  be  universal  misery ;  would  un- 
hinge every  expectation,  and  every  hope ;  would  annihilate  all  the 
busmess  oi  intellicent  beings ;  would  set  them  at  variance  with 
each  other,  and  with  God ;  and  would  make  the  Universe  a  soli- 
tude and  a  desert. 

Remember,  that  every  human  concern  is  decided  by  testimony; 
that  he,  who  weakens  it,  is  an  enemy  to  mankind,  and  makes 
havoc  of  human  happiness.  Realize,  that,  if  by  influence,  or 
example,  you  destrov,  or  diminish,  the  confidence  of  men  ;  if  you 
lessen  the  sense  of  the  obligations  to  veracity ;  you  will  become 
pests  of  the  Universe,  and  foes  of  every  intelligent  being,  which  it 
contains. 

Call  to  mind,  that  by  falsehood  you  will  debase  yourselves  be- 
yond measure  ;  cut  ofi*  all  your  hopes  of  becoming  virtuous  ;  arm 
your  consciences  against  your  peace  ;  and  make  yourselves  ob- 
jects of  contempt,  indignation,  and  abhorrence. 

Recollect  daily,  that  the  first  step,  which  you  take  in  falsehood, 
is  the  commencement  of  this  boundless  evil ;  that  the  way  to  be- 
come an  abandoned  liar  is  to  conceal  truth;  to  equivocate;  to 
evade  ;  to  utter  sportive  falsehood ;  to  rehearse  marvellous  sto- 
ries ;  to  recite  the  tales  of  private  history ;  and  to  colour  what 
you  recite  with  hues,  and  stains,  mixed  by  yourselves.  In  all  these 
things  you  may  feel  at  your  ease ;  may  profess  yourselves  to  be, 
and  may  often  actually  be,  in  sport.  So  is  the  madmanj  who  scat' 
ttrs  firtbrandt^  arrows^  and  death. 

Remfmber,  last  ofall^  that  the  timt^  in  which  your  lot  i»  castj  it 
pre-eminently  a  time,  in  which  tlu  sense  of  truth  is  weakened^  and 
the  consciousness  of  moral  obligation  to  a  wonderful  degree  forgot* 
ten.  In  this  day,  falsehood  has  come  forth  to  the  puoiic  eye  with 
her  brazen  front  unveiled ;  her  cheek  without  even  a  tinge ;  and 
her  snaky  tongue  newly  dipt  in  poison.  Her  professed  enemies 
arc  changed  into  friends ;  her  friends  into  worshippers.  The  whole 
world  wonders  after  her.  Afraid,  no  loneer,  of  the  contempt  of 
society,  or  the  brand  of  public  justice,  she  enters  familiarly  into 
the  study  of  the  philosopher,  the  hall  of  deliberation,  and  the  pal- 
ace of  power ;  and  dictates  instructions,  laws,,  edicts,  and  mani- 
festoes, to  nations,    lii  her  train,  parties,  princes,  and  nations,  are 


^' 


aSR.  CXXVIL]  FREVENnVES  OF  LTING«  5I3 

proud  to  be  enrolled.  How  immense,  then,  -liow  unceasing,  how 
universal,  is  the  danger  to  you.  Awake  to  that  danger,  and  feel, 
that  you  are  struggling  for  your  all. 

Move  all  things^  commit  yourselves  to  God  in  prayer*  Ask  him ; 
and  he  will  make  fou  watchful,  wise,  and  steadfast  in  your  duty. 
Ask  him ;  and  he  will  teach  you  to  love,  and  enable  you  to  speak, 
truth  only ;  until  you  arrive  at  that  glorious  world,  where  truth 
only  is  spoken  by  its  happy  inhabitants,  and  where  all  i*^  bless- 
ings are  realized  with  increasing  delight,  throughout  ages  which 
know  no  end, 

Vol.  Ill  65 


I    —^ 


*^=«^ 


u 


SERMON  CXXVin. 

SUTTH    COMMANDMBNT. ^SLANDER. 


EioDDi  u.  l6^^Tkou  Aait  not  btarfiUn  wUne$t  againii  thy  neighbour. 

i 

In  the  last  discourse,  but  one,  I  proposed  to  consider  FaUe* 
hood  under  the  two  Heads  of 

Luing^  and, 

Slanaer. 

The  former  of  these  I  have  discussed  at  leneth.  I  shall  now 
proceed  to  the  consideration  of  the  latter ;  ana  shall  arrange  my 
Observations  under  the  following  heads. 

L  The  Nature  of  Slander  ; 

IL  The  Modes  in  which  it  is  practised  ^ 

in.  The  Evils  of  it;  and, 

IV.  Dissuasives  from  it. 

I.  Slander  may  be  thus  defined.  It  is  that  Conductj  which  tn/ic- 
Txously  lessens^  or  destroys^  another'^s  Reputation. 

In  most  cases,  Words  are  made  the  vehicle  of  Slander*  It  may, 
however,  be  accomplished  without  words.  When  we  are  reason- 
ably expected  to  give  a  fair  character  of  another,  we  may  easily, 
and  deeply,  slander  him  by  our  Silence.  We  may  atso  accom- 
plish  the  same  purpose  by  our  Actions :  as  when  we  withhold  our 
countenance  from  a  man,  who,  in  ordinaiy  circumstances,  might 
fairly  expect  to  enjoy  it ;  withdraw  frc»n  him  business,  with  which 
he  has  heretofore  been  entrusted ;  or  turn  him  out  of  our  sei^ 
vice  without  alleging  any  reasons  for  our  conduct.  In  these 
and  the  like  cases,  we  give  such  proofs  of  suspecting  him,  our- 
selves, as  to  entail  upon  him,  in  greater  or  less  degrees,  the  suspi- 
<:ion  of  others. 

Slander  is  perpetrated  sometimes  with  design,  and  sometimes 
through  inattention.  In  the  former  case,  it  is  perpetrated  with 
van  intention  to  destroy  happiness;  m  the  latter  from  indifference 
;  to  it.  In  the  former  case  it  springs  from  malice;  in  the  latter, 
[•^  from  that  sordid  insensibility  to  the  interests  of  others,  which  is 
\'  little  less  censurable.  It  will  be  unnecessary  to  distinguish  them 
{.   apy  farther. 

i:  I     II.  Slander  is  most  fr^quentljr  practised  in  the  following  Modes. 
-i  ^        1.  Jn  direct  and  false  Aspersions. 

The  Slanderer  commences  this  malignant  emplotpneni  by  invtnt' 
ingj  and  fabricating  J  tales  of  falsehood  concerning  the  person,  wh» 
ds  either  the  object  of  his  hatred,  or  the  subject  of  his  dioersimu 


'to 


nsiL  cnvm.]  oamder.  515 

To  the  fabricator  of  these  tales  all  the  subsequent  mischief,  which 
arises  firom  them,  is  supremely  chargeable. 

The  second  step  is  the  rehearsing  of  such  stories^  after  they  have 
been  told  to  us  by  others*  In  this  step,  we  do  not  participate  in 
all  the  guilt,  which  is  attendant  on  the  first*  But  both  the  guilt, 
and  the  mischief,  are  often  greater.  The  spirit,  with  which  we 
rehearse  tales  of  slander,  may  be  more  malignant  than  that 
which  gave  birth  to  them ;  and  the  consequences  may  be  incom- 
parably worse*  The  inventor  may  have  been  a  thoughtless,  ig- 
norant, giddy-minded  man;  without  consideration,  and  without 
character.  We,  on  the  contrary,  may  possess  reputation,  fore- 
cast, and  a  correct  knowledge  of  human  concerns  ;  may  compre- 
hend the  whole  efficacy  of  me  tale ;  may  perceive  its  falsehood ; 
and  may  enjoy  a  base  pleasure  in  giving  it  the  most  effectual 
operation.  Thus,  although  not  chargeable  with  the  guilt  of  fab- 
ricating falsehood,  we  may  become  much  more  criminal  than  the 
fabricator. 

Whatever  is  our  situation,  we  lend,  in  this  case,  our  own  weight 
to  the  story ;  and,  in  this  manner,  we  sometimes  do  all,  and  not 
unfrequently  most,  of  the  mischief,  of  which  the  story  becomes  the 
instrument.  The  inventors  of  such  tales  are  usually  persons  of 
no  reputation ;  and,  if  reputable  at  first,  they  soon  destroy  their 
character  by  this  very  employment.  Were  they,  then,  disregard- 
ed, and  their  tales  not  repeated ;  both  would  sink  at  once  into  ab- 
solute contempt.  But  when  persons  of  a  fair  character  take  up 
such  stories,  and  soberly  rehearse  them ;  the  fabehood  acquhres 
new  strength,  and  spreads  with  a  new  and  moat  unhappy  influ- 
ence. This  base  coin  they  have  not,  indeed,  made ;  but  they 
have  passed  it ;  and  given  it  a  currency,  which  it  could  never  have 
derived  firom  the  maker.  liCt  no  person,  then,  think  himself  at  all 
justified  in  reciting  a  tale  dF  slander  by  the  very  common  indeed, 
but  very  wretched,  excuse,  dictated,  and  adopted,  only  by  the 
coarsest  and  most  vulgar  morality ;  that  they  heard  it  from  others. 
Guilt  fastens  on  every  traveller  in  this  base  and  by-path,  and  at 
every  step  in  his  progress. 

Some  persons  perpetrate  this  iniouity  with  designs  directly  ma- 
licious. Some,  from  a  busy,  medaling  disposition,  always  unsat- 
isfied, unless  when  interfering  in  the  concerns  of  others  :  and 
some,  firom  a  msh  to  be  thought  extensively  acquainted  with  pri- 
vate history.  All  these  are  characterized  in  the  Scriptures  by 
the  significant  names  of  busy-bodies^  and  tale-bearers^  and  are 
considered  there,  and  every  where  else,  as  the  disturbers  and 
pests  of  society.  They  are  characterized  in  the  most  disadvan- 
tageous manner,  Levit.  xix.  16.  Thou  shalt  not  go  up  and  down 
as  a  tale-bearer  among  thy  people  /  neither  shalt  thou  stand  against 
the  blood  of  thy  neighbour.  I  am  the  Lord.  And  again,  in  rrov. 
zxvi.  20,  &c.  The  words  of  a  tale-bearer  are  as  wounds.  Where 
no  wood  isj  there  the  fire  goeth  out.     They  are  classed  with  the 


■.  • 


^10  SLANDER.  PER.  CXTHB. 

worst  of  manldad,  1  Pet  iv.  15.  Let  none  of  you  tufftr  as  a  mur- 
derer^ or  as  a  thief  or  as  an  evil  doer,  or  as  a  husy-hody  in  other 
men^s  matters 

The  character,  given  of  them  in  the  Scriptures,  is  the  charac- 
ter, given  of  them  by  Common  sense.     In  every  age,  and  coun- 
try, they  have  been  objects  of  contempt  and  abhorrence.     Pru- 
I  dent  men  have  every  where  shunned  them  ;  and  pointed  them  out 
'  to  their  friends,  and  children,  as  enemies,  as  gins  and  snares, 
which  they  were  ever  cautiously  to  spy  out,  and  eagerlv  to  avoid. 
>  JEvery  company,  into  which  they  enter,  after  their  character  is 

*  known,  feels  a  sudden  pressure  upon  its  thoughts,  and  an  alarm 
for  its  peace  and  safety.  The  aspect  is  changed  at  once.  The 
features,  relaxed  by  ease,  friendship,  and  confidence,  are  suddenly 
contracted,  and  fixed.  The  eye  quits  its  smile  of  serenity  and 
pleasure ;,  and  settles  itself  in  the  attitude  of  vidlance,  apprehen- 
sive and  ill-boding ;  and  the  conversation,  which  sprang  from  the 
heart,  reciprocated  friendship,  and  awakened  delight,  is  chilled 
down  in  a  moment  into  general,  unmeaning  observations ;  adopt- 
ed, only  because  they  have  no  meaning,  and  because  no  tale 
of  mischief  can  be  tola  about  them.  When  such  a  man  resides 
in  a  neighbourhood;  a  thick  cloud  hangs  over  all  its  enjoy- 
ments. When  he  removes ;  it  is  again  covered  with  cheerfulness 
and  sunshine. 

With  a  criminality^  often  greater^  we' slander  others  by  giving  ac- 
counts concerning  them,  which  are  true*  No  excuse  is  more  fre- 
quently, or  more  confidently,  pleaded  as  an  ample  justification  ot 
malignant  stories  concerning  others,  than  this  ;  that  they  are  true. 
The  author  of  ill-natured  tales,  or  remarks,  is  not  indeed  charge- 
able, in  this  case,  with  the  crime  of  falsehood.  Still  he  may  1)C 
really,  and  eminently,  criminal.  If  the  good  name  of  our  neigh- 
bour be  injured ;  the  great  evil  ia  question  is  done.  If  it  be  injur- 
ed by  us  ;  the  evil  is  done  by  us*  If  we  have  injured  it  with 
Pleasure ;  our  malevolence  is  real ;  and  therefore  our  guilt  is  real* 
'hat  guilt  also  may  be  as  ereat,  or  greater,  in  the  eye  of  God,  ihaa 
any,  which  even  we  ourselves  have  attributed  to  the  inventorof  a 
slanderous  story. 

Be  it  so,  that  our  neighbour  has  slipped :  and  that  he  has  simied 
against  God.  Still,  if  his  sin  remain  with  him,  he  may  repent ; 
and  his  r  p/^ntance  may  render  his  character  better,  and  his  hopes 
brighie  nan  ours.  Still,  his  talents  may  be  employed  for  the  ben- 
efit o''  !  fns'jlf,  his  family,  and  mankind.  All  this  benefit,  and  all 
the  Cdfin.  i-t,  which  he,  and  his,  might  enjoy,  we  may  thus  prevent, 
anii  b^^^t  for  ever. 

My  neighbour  is  a  merchant.  In  a  course  of  honest  industry,  he 
is  re'iuced  by  misfortunes  to  failing  circumstances.     The  fact  is 

•  known  to  me.  I  publish  it.  His  creditors,  anxious  to  secure,  as 
for  as  may  be,  their  own  property,  seize  upon  his  effects;  and  per- 
naps  connne  him  in  a  prison.     Thus  he  may  be  completely  ruin- 


SER.  cxxvni.] 


SLANDEJEL 


517 


ed  by  a  story,  which  I  have  told ;  and  a  story,  which  is  true.  Thus, 
also,  his  family  are  reduced  to  want;  and  see  their  hopes  of  sup- 
port, education,  usefulness,  and  comfort,  finally  destroyed. 

Had  I,  with  the  prudence  and  benevolence  which  Christianity 
inspires,  confined  this  secret  within  my  own  breast ;  the  industry 
of  my  neighbour,  his  skill  in  business,  his  integrity,  and  the  credit 
which  he  nad  merited,  and  gained,  by  these  qualifications,  would 
have  enabled  him  to  continue  in  trade  without  interruption  ;  and 
probably  to  acquire  all  the  necessary  means  of  comfort  and  pros- 
perity for  himself  and  his  family.  These  blessings  1  have^pre-: 
^nted ;  and  am  chargeable  with  the  prevention.  *  I  have  not, 
indeed,  told  a  falsehood;  but  I  have  done  mischief,  which  is  incal- 
culable, and  which  a  falsehood,  in  the  case  supposed,  could  not 
have  done. 

Why  have  I  done  this  mischief?  There  was  no  necessity,  that 
my  neighbour  should  be  injured;  that  his  failings  should  be  pub- 
lished ;  that  his  character  should  be  lowered ;  that  his  misfortunes 
should  be  announced  to  the  world;  that  the  peace  of  his  family 
should  be  wounded,  their  enjoyments  cut  off,  and  their  hopes  blast- 
ed in  the  bud.  In  all  this  there  is  no  profit  to  me,  nor  to  mankind : 
nor,  unless  1  am  possessed  of  the  spirit  of  a  fiend,  can  there  be 
any  pleasure. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  beyond  debate,  that  he,  who  tells  \^ 
mischievous  story,  and  that  he,  who  by  declaring  his  belief  oi 
a  mischievous  story,  told  by  others,  lends'  it  ine  credit  and 
sanction  of  his  own  authority,  are  essentially,  and  alike,  guilty 
of  slander.  In  the  conduct  specified,  both,  also,  are  without 
excuse. 

So  long  as  persons  of  reputation  will  either  repeat  the  false 
stories  of  others,  invented  for  the  purpose  of  lowering,  or  destroy- 
ing, character ;  or  will  publish  malignant  truths,  concerning  oth- 
ers ;  the  peace,  the  good  name,  and  the  comfort,  of  mankina  will 
be  invaded  and  destroyed. 

S.  Slander  may  be  practised  without  inventingj  or  repeating  ma* 
lignani  stories,  zohether  true  or  false* 

This  may  be  done,  in  the  first  place,  by  listening  to  the  slander* 
ouB  stories  of  others* 

He,  who  listens  to  a  story  of  this  nature  without  expressing  his 
disapprobation,  declares  by  his  conduct,  the  strongest  of  all  attes- 
tations, that  he  considers  it  as  meriting  his  attention,  and,  in  some 
degree,  his  belief.  This  belief,  and  even  this  attention,  from  per- 
sons of  respectability,  will  give  the  slander  a  weight,  and  currency, 
which  it  could  never  have  derived  from  the  inventor.  Those 
who  see  us  listen  in  this  manner,  will  conclude  of  course,  that  the 
slander,  in  our  view,  has  foundation,  and  importance.  Hence  the| 
will  be  induced  both  to  believe,  and  to  report,  what,  otherwise^ 
they  would  have  disregarded. 


w 


? 


513 


[SER  cximt 


The  inventor  of  slander  derives  all  his  consequence,  and  all  his 
encouragement,  from  the  countenance,  lent  to  him  by  others.  Bui 
to  believe  ia  to  countenance  him :  to  listen  is  to  countenance  him. 
Bv  listening  to  him,  tijercforc,  wc  give  life  and  activi^  Jo  his  mis- 
chievous fabrications;  and  lend  them  most  of  their  ptfSver  lo  dn 
hkt;  Besides,  by  doing  iliis  we  keep  the  spirit  of  slander  alive 
in  nia  breast ;  and  make  him  feel  secure  of  the  consequence,  wUcb 
he.  hopes  to  gain  by  this  course  of  conduct :  the  consequence, 

' "  "  is  his  principal  motive  to  sin.  In  this  manner,  we  conln- 
thc  existence  of  future  slanderers,  and,  in  a  manner  pos- 
-qT  no  contemptible  cfBcacy,  aid  the  dilfusion  of  calumny 
the  world.  This  niuiBnce  to  society,  this  pest  to  mankind, 
tin,  cherish,  and  send  abroad,  to  destroy  the  pwce  of  those 
ground  us.  How  pUlnly  is  he,  who  acts  in  this  manner,  a  nuis- 
ance to  his  fellow-men'! 

Both  Reason  arid  Revelation,  both  common  sen;e  and  common 
good  naturei*d9Mnd,  on  the  contrary,  that,  whenever  our  neigh- 
'.bour's  char^Ier  is  attacked,  we  should  appear  openly  in  his  de- 
fence.    In  very  few  ways  can  we  bo  often,  or  so  greatly,  befriend 
others,  as  by  supporling  their  good  name ;  and  in  very  few  cases 
will  oiir  kincfness  oe  so  deeply,  oi-so  gratefully,  felt.     The  pe^ 
son,  thus  attacked,  is  absent  of  course;  and  cannot,  therefore,  de- 
fend himself.     If  we  do  not  defend  him ;  he  is  left  naked  to  ibe 
attack,  wa^  to  allf^  malignant  consequences.    Our  silence  cannot 
but  iniure  him  scntfusly.     It  may  be  (he  means  of  his  ruin.    Who 
wouki  not  wish,  in  such  a  case,  lo  have  his  own  character  defend-     , 
ed  ?    Who,  then,  is  not  boand  to  defend  thai  of  another  ?    Were   J 
this  great  Law  of  righteousness  duly  felt ;  were  its  injunctions,as  J 
ttb^itspccl  the  case  under  consideration,  faithfully  obeyed ;  what  ™ 
a  horde  of  busy-bodies,  tale-bearers,  and  calumniators,  would  be 
broken  down!    What  an  endless  multitude  of  base  and  snaky  ef- 
forts against  the  peace  of  society,  and  the  comfort  of  famdies, 
would  m  this  way  be  crushed  at  once ! 

Secondly.  If  our  silence,  when  tales  of  slander  are  rmrttd,  a 
thu  injurious  to  others :  the  declaration,  that  we  believe  Ihtm,  u 
still  wore  criminal. 

A  multitude  of  persons  not  only  suffer  slander  to  pass  without 
censure,  or  opposition,  but  readily  believe  it  j  and  without  hesita- 
tion declare  this  behef.  If  they  do  not  repeat  it  lo  others;  their 
consciences  appear  to  be  satisfied.  Even  when  they  give  it  no 
credit,  they  suBefOthers  quietly  to  repeat  it,  not  only  without  ani- 
madversion, but  without  even  hinting  their  disbelief.  Througha 
company  of  such  pcrsona^a  calumny  rolls  on  without  an  irapedi- 
tneni ;  without  a  single  generous  effort  to  dwck  its  progress.  On 
the  tonli-ary,  it  fares  like  aSpy  in  a  venal,  mercenary  army,  whom 
none  will  detect,  and  whose  escape  all  will  favour,  bi^caune  all  ai 
hollow-hearted  and  false.  If  it  is  attended  with  evidence  mode-J 
ralely  plausible,  they  declare  their  belief  of  it ;  and  ||tefrh*ipJI 


I 

\ 


onward  lo  the  belief  of  others.  If  it  be  supported  liy  no  evidence 
whatever,  they  will  not  declai-e  (heir  dJsbehef  of  it :  ibus  suffering 
it  lo  proceed  without  interruption,  and  to  gain  credit  wherever  it 
may. 

There  i'»in  the  human  breast  a  strong  propensity  to  Censorious 
ness.  We  need  no  instruction  to  teach  us,  that  our  fel low-men -^re 
l)y  every  censure,  which  adheres  to  ihem,  lowered  beneath  tHeir 
customary  level.  Nor  do  we  _discern  with  less  readiness,  that 
whatever  sinks  those  around  us,  raises  comparatively  ourselves. 
Witli  ihis  self-exaltation,  despicable  as  are  the  means  by  which  it 
is  achieved,  we,  whenever  we  become  ihc  authors  of  it,  are  des- 
picable enough  to  be  gratified;  and  the  graiification,  base  and 
coniemplibU  as  it  is,  is  still  eagerly  sought,  and  highly  enjoyed, 
by  many  such  minds,  as  are  found  in  ihe  present  world. 

When  these  persons  hear  the  characters  of  others  aspersed,  they 
hear  it  with  pleasure;  and  with  pleasure  bcltevp  the  aspersion. 
Their  faith,  oere,  is  not  given  to  evidence  :  it  does  not  wait  for 
evidence.  If  evidence  be  furnished,  indeed,  it  is  so  much  ihe  bet- 
ter; because  it  is  expected  to  command  the  faith  of  others  also. 
But  no  evidence  is  necessary  to  ensure  [he  faith  of  these  persons. 
The  talc  pleases,  because  it  iavolvcs  the  degradation  of  a  neigh- 
bour ;  a  rival ;  a  superior ;  or  some  other  object  of  jealousy.  It 
is  believed,  because  they  wish  it  to  be  true.  Still,  many  sucn  per- 
■ons  are  too  cautious  to  rehearse  it  a^ain ;  and  with  i^Ir  avoid- 
ance of  this  additional  injury,  their  cofd,  heartless  consciences  are 
BlilSsfied. 

III.   The  Evih  of  Slander  arf  either  Personal,  or  Public. 

I.  The  Personal  Evils  of  Slander,  by  which  I  intend  the  suffer- 
ings experienced  from  it  by  Individuals,  are  the  pain  felt,  arid  the 
mjuritt  dtrived,  from  the  lossofa  Goodname, 

A  good  name  is  the  Eslimacion,  in  which  wt  d¥e  holden  by  others 
on  account  of  our  good  qualities,  and  our  good  conduct.  Such  a 
name  is  declared  by  God  Himself  to  be  better  than  precious  oin(- 
ment.  Eccles,  vii.  I.  And  in  Proverbs  isii.  I,  a  good  name  is  said 
to  be  better  than  great  riches,  and  Ihving-favour,  that  is,  ihe  favour- 
able emotions,  exercised  towards  such,  as  possess  a  good  ^ame, 
better  than  silver  and  gold.  Silver  and  gold,  particularly  when 
possessed  in  such |[pcumulations  as  constitute  great  riches,  are, 
proverbially,  the  supreme  objects,  which  this  world  furnishes,  of 
numan  desires.  As  such,  they  are  customarily  used,  as  objects  of 
comparison,  to  illustrate  the  value  of  things  eminently  precious. 
Thus,  in  the  Scriptures  themselves,  we  are  informed,  that  the  tats 
of  Ike  Lord  is  more  to  be  chosen  than  the  most  fine  gold.  Thue, 
also.  Job  says  of  the  Wisdom,  which  is  the  obedience  of  that  Law, 
that  it  cannot  be  gotten  for  gold  ;  neither  ihall  silver  be  weighed  far 


Pr^ckm^intmenl,  as  intended  by  a  Jewish  PTlter,  probably  de-  ^ 

"'  -  Mcb  was  used  to  anoint  the  High  Friesti  and  the  kiogt^^B 


thcpria  thertuf. 

lent,  as  intended  b\ 

t  the  High  Friest, 


[3ER.CXIFUL 


of  ihe  Jtmlsh  nation.  The  materials,  of  which  it  was  composed, 
are  well  known  to  have  been  pre-eminently  costly  and  valuable; 
far  more  so,  than  the  most  fine  gold.  In  this  point  of  view,  pre- 
vious oinlmeni  was  in  the  mouth  of  an  Israelite,  periiaps,  the 
jlrongcst  conceivable  illustration  of  the  value  of  a  good  name. 
Al  the  same  time,  this  ungueni,  being  composed  of  the  richest  and  ■ 
most  elegant  aromatic  substances,  aifl'useu,  extensively,  the  most 
delightfuf  fragrance,  wherever  il  was  employed.  With  reference 
to  this  fine  cfiaractcr,  the  Psalmist  adopts  it  as  a  charming  illus- 
tration of  one  of  the  most  charming  ol^jecls,  ever  seen  in  the  pre- 
sent world.  Behold,  lie  exclaims,  koto  good,  and  how  pleasant,  it 
U/or  brethren  to  dioell  together  m  unilt/.  Il  it  like  the  precious  oint- 
ment  upon  Ike  head  of  Aaron,  that  went  down  to  the  sktrta  of  his  gar- 
ment f  as  the  devi  of  ilermon,  that  descended  upon  the  mcnmtaini  of 
Zion:  fo^  there  the  Lord  commanded  the  blessing;  even  life  fcr 
evermore,  A  more  exquisite  illustration  of  the  delightful  impres- 
'  sion,  made  by  a  fair  character,  could  not  be  given. 

Such  a  character  is  of  inestimable  value  to  the  possessor,  if 
considered  merely  as  a  source  of  Enjoyment.  The  esteem  of  oor 
fellow-men  is,  probably,  regarded  by  the  great  body  of  mankind, 
as  standing,  in  the  list  of  enjoyments,  next  to  self-approbation. 
Common  sense,  as  well  as  trie  Scriptures,  pronounces  lovingfa- 
vour  to  be  better  th  i<i  silver  and  r"/d.  The  opinion  of  wise  and 
good  men  may  be  cvasidered, , :  .  '1  ordinary  cases,  as  the  best 
criterion  cf  worth  on  this  side  n'  iIjo  grave;  and  their  good-will, 
which  always  accompanies  their  esteem,  as  the  richest  possession, 
which  docs  not  descend  immediately  from  Heaven.  Even  in  that 
happy  world,  the  uninterrupted,  and  intense,  complacency  of  iu 
glorious  inhabitants  will,  after  the  favour  of  God,  and  the  peace 
of  a  self-approving  mind,  constitute  the  prime  ingredient  of  eler- 
nal  joy. 

In  the  world  of  miscir,  on  the  contrary,  all  the  inhabitants, 
ing  destitute  of  all  good  character  in  the  eyes  of  each  other, 
be  the  subjects  of  perpeluat  shame,  and  the  objects  of  mutual  ai 
everlasting  contempt.     These  ingredients  of  suffering,  so  terrible 
even  in  the  present  world,  will  there  become  the  means  of  inex- 

Eressible  wo.  They  will  be  despised  by  themselves  :  ihcy  will 
e  despised  by  each  other :  they  will  be  objects  of  abhorrence  lo 
God,  and  lo  tne  whole  virtuous  Universe.  The  anguish,  inflicted 
by  this  engine  of  torture,  so  completely,  in  that  melancholy  world, 
is  often  excruciating  in  this.  In  now  many  instances,  has  tke  cmf 
sciousness  of  contempt,  even  from  a  single  person,  driven  its  iniie^ 
rable  victim  to  suicide  ! 

Nor  is  a  good  name  less  indispensable  to  the  attainmtnt  of 
fidence,  and  of  all  the  blessings,  hi)  which  Confidtnce  is  folk 
If  we  are  unpossessed  of  a  fair  character;  no  one  will  confide 
us.     Without  confidence,  beside  losing  the  serene  and  hiffbgei. 
menL  whir>  ■*  *«'nmiinii-au>s-  we  shall  be  prevented  frobi  til 


il  and^ 


8ER.  CXXVm.]  SLAND£R.  521 

fill  employment,  and  from  all  the  benefits,  which  would  flow  from 
such  employment,  to  ourselves,  and  through  us  to  others. 

A  fair  character  is  also  essential  to  personal  Usefulness.  A  man 
destitute  of  reputation,  is  of  course  destitute  of  Influence :  and 
virtuous  influence  is  the  principal  mean  of  usefulness.  The  good, 
which  we  can  individually  do,  must  ever  be  small :  that,  which 
we  may  influence  others  to  do,  can  be  very  great.  If  we  are  des- 
titute of  this  instrument  of  beneficence,  we  can  never  persuade 
others  to  unite  with  us  in  any  valuable  purpose ;  and  must  on 
every  occasion,  however  important,  stand  alone.  Our  talents  are 
thus  in  a  great  measure  rendered  useless  :  and  our  power  of  con- 
tributmg  to  the  welfare  of  our  fellow-men,  and  promoting  the 
cause  of  righteousness,  is  shrunk  and  withered. 

In  the  loss  of  our  reputation  also,  and  in  all  its  miserable  con- 
sequences ;  our  connexions  necessarily  partake ;  partictdarly  our 
friends,  and  our  families.  Whoever  wishes  well  to  the  suficrer 
feels  the  wound.  Thus  the  evils,  instead  of  being  suffered  by  us 
only,  are  felt  by  midtitudes ;  and  often  with  anguish,  not  inferior 
to  our  own. 

Whenever  the  persons,  whose  character  is  thus  injured,  are  in 
public  stations,  or  arc  otherwise  possessed  of  superior  conse- 
quence ;  the  mischief  becomes  more  extensive,  and  more  impor- 
tant. Thus  a  slander,  directed  against  a  Minister  of  the  Gospel, 
is  a  wound  to  the  Church  :  a  calumny,  branded  upon  a  Magistrate 
of  distinction,  is  felt  by  the  whole  community. 

Finally.  The  loss  of  reputation,  both  in  itself,  and  especially 
In  its  consequences ;  the  prevention  of  confidence,  employment, 
and  usefulness  ;  brings  with  it  a  multitude  of  temptations,  and  pre^ 
pares  the  mind  for  a  ready  perpetration  of  sin,  in  every  form,  and 
extending  to  every  degree.  Regard  to  character  is  a  powerful  mo- 
tive to  every  species  of  good  conduct ;  and,  when  duly  felt,  is  an 
Evangelical  motive.  Whatsoever  things  are  honest,  lovely,  and 
of  good  report,  St.  Paul  enjoins  upon  christians  as  their  duty.  A 
Bishop,  also,  the  same  Apostle  teaches  us,  must  have  a  good  report 
of  them,  who  are  without  the  Church,  as  one  indispensable  qualifi- 
cation for  his  election  to  the  Ministry  of  the  Gospel.  Those,  who 
were  without  the  Church,  when  this  was  written,  were  Jews,  and 
Heathen.  Yet,  even  among  these  men,  a  bishop  was  required  to 
sustain  an  unblemished  reputation.  Danger  to  character  is,  also, 
a  prime  restraint  from  all  open  wickedness,  a  restraint,  felt  by 
every  decent  man  every  day  of  his  life.  He  who  is  unconscious  of 
it,  has  already  become  almost  desperate.  He,  who  discovers^  that 
be  disregards  it,  will  be  pronounced  by  his  fellow-men  abandoned. 

In  accordance  with  these  observations,  the  Scriptures  have 
solemnly  guarded  personal  reputation  in  various  ways.  They 
have  taught  the  hign  value  of  a  good  name;  declared  the  guilt, 
and  odiousness,  of  slander,  and  tale-bearing ;  prohibited,  strong- 
ly, the  practice  of  these  crimes ;  and  thetaLtened  the  perpetrators 

VoL  III.  66    /- 


532  3LANPER.  [SER.  C 

with  exemplary  punishment.  Municipal  Law,  also,  has  hcdgi 
the  [irivaie  eharactrr  of  every  irian  with  a  strong  enclosure  ;  ai 
denounced  again&l  every  Irespasaer  heavy  pcnaliies. 

From  these  con  si  derations  it  ismanircst,  thai  the  mischiefs,  i 
volvcd  in  the  loss  of  reputation,  fire  lo  individuals  incomprcbon! 
biy  great.  Rarely  does  ihc  ihicf,  or  the  cheai^^rob  his  felloi 
men  of  grtat  riches.  The  slanderer,  ilicrefpre,  accomplishes  a 
greater  injury  than  either  of  these  villainsj  for  a  good  name  i 
ielUrlhan  greal  riches.  It  is  of  no  conseqBence  whether  his  ei 
Ibrts  succeed,  or  not.  The  thief  is  not  the  less  a  thief,  because  ht 
jrops  his  booty ;  nor  ihc  cheat  the  less  a  cheat,  because  he  is  de^ 
leclcdin  his  fraud.  If  then  the  slanderer  is  not  more  despised  ai 
abhorred,  than  either;  it  is  because  reputation  is  not  esteemed Bi 
cording  toils  value. 

2.   The  Public  Evih  of  Slander  are  loo  nianerout  to  permit,  M 
too  obvious  lo  need,  a  discussion  in  this  place, 

1  have  already  remarked,  thai,  when  persons  of  consequence 
are  attacked  by  calumny,  the  mischief  is  extensively  sprea<M 
The  slandering  of  private  individuals  is  capable,  also,  of  eximdrf 
ing  far,  and  of  harassing  not  a  little,  the  peace  of  society.  Thece' 
is,  in  many  places,  a  kind  of  indulgence,  often  given  lo  that  pe»-' 
tilential  class  of  mankind,  the  retailers  of  private  history.  In  v3^ 
lagcs,  precluded  by  iheir  size,  or  their  situation,  from  beioc) 
theatres  of  public  news,  a  strong  propensity  is  often  discovereo' 
,  -  u  listen  to  those  who  employ  their  lime  in  prying  into  the  pri-j 
+^6te  concerns  of  their  neighbours.  Encouraged  by  this  kina^' 
approbation,  as  well  as  urged  onward  by  restless  curiosity,  and)' 
an  eager  spirit  of  meddling,  persons  of  this  description  muldply' 
without  number  their  suspicions,  their  innuendoes,  their  prcdicdooi' 
of  evil,  and  their  tales  of  mischief.  Speedily,  jealousies  are  ex- 
cited hetweentleighbour  and  neighbour,  between  friend  and  friend. 
Speedily  the  offices  of  good-will,  and  good  neighbourhood,  ate* 
withdrawn.  Social  visits  arc  interdicted.  Kindness,  both  in  opioioQ ' 
and  in  conduct,  ceases :  and  a  village,  in  which  peace  and  good' 
order  have  long  prevailed,  is  thrown  into  an  uproar.  The  gener- 
al conversation  is  made  up  of  ridicule,  invective,  and  threatening  ji 
and  ;i  c|uiel  life  gives  place  lo  quarrels  and  litigations.  Even  UT 
the  House  of  God,  the  inhabitants  find  themselves  scarcely  ableW 
unite  with  each  other  in  the  worship  of  their  Maker. 

But  the  spirit  of  Slander  is  not  confined  lo  villages,  nor  lowiii|-< 
nor  cities.  It  often  Hies  at  higher  obiects;  and  boldly  intrudes  up*' 
on  the  Hall  of  Justice,  the  Senate-House,  and  the  chair  of  State** 
No  life  is  too  spotless ;  no  character  is  loo  sacred ;  to  be  assautle^^ 
and  destroyed,  by  this  evil  genius  of  man.  A  single  calumny,  et- 
pecially  in  seasons  of  violent  parly,  has  set  a  nation  in  a  flam6|* 
and  for  a  season  consumed  ils  peace,  and  wasted  its  prosperitfV' 
The  evils,  suffered  in  ihis  case,  arc  numberless,  and  incompreheon 
siblc.     One  of  the  chief  sources  of  the  unprecedented  crimev^ 


SER.  CXXVIII.] 

and  sufferings,  attendant  upon  the  French  Revolution,  wfis  the 
slan<-icr  of  distinguished  men,  both  in  pubhc  and  private  hfe. 
Misrepresentation  and  obloquy.^ve  been  more  fatal  enemies  to 
the  cause  of  Christianity,  than  lto»  feggot  and  the  rack. 

IV.  Among  tk^diasuasi-eta  from  this  sin  J  shall  briefi/  suggest  the 
followmg.  "./ 

1 .  Ilis  rmmmlly  ot&'oits  in  the  sight  of  God. 

The  great  body  of  slanderers  arc  liars  ;  and  are,  therefore, 
chargeable  with  all  tho  gross  wickedness,  altribuicdio  men  of  this 
character,  and  cxposecTto  all  the  awful  threatenings,  denounced 
against  them,  in  the  Scriptures.  Whoso  privily  slandrrrlh  hh 
neighbour,  says  Davidf  under  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit  of  Truth, 
directing  his  duty  as  the  Ruler  of  Israel,  him  will  I  cut  off.  In 
that  kingdom,  therefore,  this  crime  was  made  capital  by  a  divine 
decision.  The  slanderer,  also,  and  that,  when  he  is  not,  as  well 
as  when  he  is,  the  inventer  of  a  false  calumny,  is,  in  the  15th 
Psalm,  excluded  from  the  favourable  presence  of  God.  Lord, 
saith  the  Psalmist,  Who  shall  abide  in  thy  tabernacle,  mho  shall  dwell 
m  thy  holy  hill  ?  One  answer  to  this  inquiry  is  the  following.  He 
that  backbitetk  not  with  his  tongue,  nor  laketh  up  a  reproach  against 
his  neighbour. 

2.  Every  person  guilty  of  this  sin,  exposes  himself,  also,  to  the 
hatred,  and  contempt  of  mankind. 

A  slanderer  is  a  common  enemy.  All  considerate  persons  know, 
and  feel  this  truth;  andguard  themselves  with  watchful  care  again! j 
his  attacks.  So  far  as  their  circumstances  will  permit,  they  shun/  ' 
and  warn  their  children  and  friends  to  shun,  his  company.  Not 
mere  suspicion,  but  a  well-founded  and  deeply-fell  conviction,  of 
his  hostility  (o  the  common  interests  of  men,  meets  him,  wherever 
he  goes.  His  presence  creates  only  pain.  His  tongue  is  a  blast 
upon  human  comfort ;  and  his  name  is  an  additional  spot  upon  the 
human  character. 

No  member  of  this  audience,  I  presume,  feels,  that  he  is  pre- 
pared to  encounter  an  evil  of  this  magnitude.  It  is  a  terrible  con- 
sideration, that  mankind  are  less  afraid  to  offend  their  God,  than 
to  provoke  the  resentment  of  their  fellow-men.  Still,  it  furnishes 
some  consolation,  that  the  dread  of  public  odium,  and  contempt, 


523  ^ 


a  powerful  hindrance  of  open  iniquity,  and  a  forcible  restraint 
3n  evil  dispositions.     If  any  individual,  present,  feels  adventur- 
ous enough  to  hazard  this  evil,  or  is  indiSbrenl  about  it ;  let  him 


recollect  with  what  agitation  he  has  sustained  even  slight  attacks 
upon  his  character ;  how  tremblingly  apprehensive  he  has  been, 
lest  a  few,  or  even  one,  of  those  around  him  should  believe  the 
calumny,  and  lest  he  should  be  regarded  with  hatred  and  conlempi, 
on  a  speck  of  earth,  and  by  a  handful  of  mankind.  If  he  could 
not  sustain  this  shofk  ;  how  unprepared  must  he  be  to  meet  the 
common  assault  of  the  human  race !  How  must  he  shrink,  and 
falter,  and  fall,  when  indignation  burns  against  him  in  every  breast; 


J 


1^24  9LANDEIL  [SER.  CtXHU 

contempt  flashes  on  him  from  every  eye ;  and  a  sentence  of  final 
condemnation  is  pronounced  on  him  by  every  tongue  !  How  will 
he  boar  to  be  shunned  by  all  decent  society  ;  pointed  at  by  the 
finger  of  prudence,  as  well  as  of  scorn ;  ana  hissed,  wherever  he 
appears,  not  by  vulgarity,  ill-nature,  and  enmity,  only,  but  by 
decency,  delicacy,  and  common  sense !  How  will  he  bear  to 
spend  his  days  in  a  kind  of  solitude,  in  the  midst  of  mankind ;  to 
be  welcomed  cordially  to  no  man's  bosom ;  to  be  regarded  as  a 
public  nuisance ;  to  be  suspected,  and  dreaded ;  and  to  have  his 
presence  regarded  as  a  burden,  and  his  character  as  a  brand,  upon 
the  human  race  !  Especially,  how  will  he  bear  all  this,  and  feel  at 
the  same  time,  that  in  all  this  no  injustice  is  done  to  him  ;  since  he 
has  merited  it  all  by  his  own  vile  and  infamous  conduct! 

3.  The  immense  mischiefs  occasioned  by  Slander  ought  to  deter 
every  man  who  has  notj  and  to  stop  every  man  who  hasj  entered 
upon  this  guilty  career. 

There  are  persons  to  whom  I  should  scarcely  think  of  ad- 
dressing this  consideration.  But  to  this  audience  it  may  surely 
be  addressed  with  success.  It  cannot  for  a  moment  be  admitted, 
even  with  decency,  that  those,  who  are  before  me,  can  be  indif- 
ferent to  the  thought  of  doing  such  mischiefs  to  their  fellow-men» 
Think  what  it  will  be  to  slab  the  character,  to  destroy  the  peace 
and  the  usefulness,  even  of  one  of  your  fellow-creatures.  Re- 
member, how  tenderly  you  regard  your  own  reputation ;  how 
deeply  you  have  been  pierced  even  by  the  darts  of  ridicule  ;  how 
'suddenly  you  have  shrunk  from  the  eye  of  scorn  ;  and  how  you 
have  trembled  under  a  tale  of  slander,  or  a  foul  aspersion.  Re- 
member, that  others  have  their  feelings  also.  Remember,  thai 
reputation  is  to  them  as  dear ;  calumny  as  unwelcome ;  contempt 
as  oppressive ;  and  disgrace  as  full  of  anguish ;  as  to  you*  Then 
ask  yourselves,  whether  you  can  consent  to  be  the  authors  of  these 
evils. 

All  this,  however,  is  only  the  first  stage  of  the  mischiefs,  which 
you  will  accomplish.  Extend  your  views  from  individuals  to  fam- 
ilies. How  mucn  happiness  in  these  little,  delightful  circles,  is  often 
destroyed  by  a  single  calumnious  tale !  How  often  are  the  hearts 
of  parents  broken,  and  the  peace  of  their  children  destroyed,  by 
false  imputations  of  dishonesty  to  a  son,  or  impurity  to  a  daughter! 
How  often  is  the  domestic  group  clustered  together  with  terror 
and  anguish,  by  false  charges  upon  the  good  name  of  the  parent! 
Before,  they  were  happy.  Wny  are  they  not  happy  now  ?  Be- 
cause a  fiend,  in  the  shape,  and  with  the  tongue,  of  a  man,  has 
Hasted  all  their  emoyments. 

But  the  mischiels  do  not  stop  here.  Families  are  set  at  variance 
"i^ith  each  other :  friends  are  converted  into  enemies ;  and  neigh- 
lours  into  strangers.  Harmony,  hospitality,  and  peace,  sicken,  and 
die,  before  the  foul  breath  of  slander.  Every  office  of  kind- 
3i6SA  15  int9rr-ir*tod:  as''  ^^^  snirit  of  ChrwtJpnWv  ifc»irn*«^'>-o<j 


9 

SER.  CXXVm.]  SLANDER   .  535 

plexed,  bewildered,  looks  around  in  vain,  or  almost  in  vain,  to  find 
proper  objects  of  its  beneficence,  and  means,  and  modes,  of  ad- 
ministering it  with  success.  To  the  happiness  of  good  neighbour- 
hood, succeeds  a  train  of  grovelling,  base,  serpentine  hostilities :  de- 
praving all  who  practice  them,  and  distressing  all  against  whom 
they  are  practised.  Anxiety  and  dismay  haunts  every  fireside ;  and 
a  funeral  gloom  settles  upon  every  prospect,  and  broods  over 
every  hope. 

4.  The  Slanderer  ought  to  be  deterred  from  hts  purpose  hy  the  tn- 
calculable  mischiefs^  which  he  will  do  to  himself. 

It  cannot  be  supposed,  that  in  such  a  course  of  hostilities  against 
his  fellow-men,  the  Slanderer  will  escape  from  the  common  resent- 
me^of  those  whom  he  has  injured.  As  he  is  an  enemy  to  all  men; 
all  men  become  at  length  enemies  to  him.  Such  as  have  smarted 
severely  from  his  tongue,  will  usually  take  effectual  care  to  make 
him  smart  in  Tiis  turn.  The  vengcvance,  executed  upon  him,  will 
often  be  exemplary.  Sometimes  he  will  be  chastised.  Sometimes 
he  win  be  prosecuted.  Sometimes  he  will  be  excluded  from  all 
decent  society :  and  often,  if  not  always,  he  will  be  openly  insult- 
ted  with  indignities,  which  he  knows  not  how  to  brook,  and  yet 
dares  not  resist.  The  consciouness  of  his  guilt  will  make  him  a 
coward :  while  a  painful  conviction,  that  his  sufferings  are  a  mere 
and  Just  retribution  of  his  crimes,  will  point  every  sting,  and  give 
a  double  force  to  every  blow. 

Still  more  ought  he  to  be  alarmed  at  the  certain  prospect  of  de- 
praving himself.  Slander  is  a  compound  of  ifalsehood,  injustice, 
unkindness,  and  meanness  ;  forming  in  itself  a  character  eminently 
depraved.  What  is  so  unhappily  begun,  proceeds  with  a  rapid  and 
dreadful  declension.  All  the  designs,  which  he  forms  in  the  in- 
dulgence of  this  characteristical  propensity;  all  the  measures, 
which  he  feels  obliged  to  employ ;  all  the  instruments,  which  he 
'an  summon  to  his  assistance  ;  all  the  gratification,  which  he  can 
•xperience  in  his  success ;  are  such,  and  such  only,  as  contribute  to 
shrink,  debase,  and  pollute  his  mind.  In  such  a  soil,  a  noble,  ge- 
nerous thought  would  instantly  wither.  To  such  a  bosom,  honour- 
able friendship  cannot  approach.  At  the  door  of  such  a  heart, 
Christianity  knocks  for  admittance  in  vain.  His  career  is  the  career 
of  abandonment  only,  through  a  path  of  steep  and  rapid  descent^ 
going  down  to  the  chambers  of  death. 


r 


SERMON  CXXIX. 


TENTH    COHHANIIlieMT. CONTENTMEKT. 


Exonoin.  17. — Thmihall  nBltBrtHhi/neiKhlhuir'ihBVK,  Iheu  ihall  not  eatel  Uy 
neiglibour't  icifi,  nor  liU  tnan-itTeanl,  nor  ha  maut-ienaal,  lar  liiiox,  norhiiaa, 
lur  any  thing  Ihal  ii  tlii/  neighbour'i. 

The  preceding  Precepis  of  Ihe  Decalogue,  so  far  as  the  la* 
guage  in  which  tney  are  written  is  concerned,  are  appareniiy 
intended  to  regulate,  chiefly,  the  eilemal  conduct  of  mankina. 
Had  they  not  oeen  explained  by  the  Prophets,  who  followed 
Mosti,  and  still  more  by  our  Saviour  and  his  Apostles,  plausible 
reasons  might  be  alleged,  why  all  of  them,  even  the  fourth,  might 
be  satisfied  by  external  observances.  But  the  Precept  in  the  Text 
is  directed  immediately,  and  only,  lo  Ike  heart;  and  is  intended 
supremely  lo  control  the  disposition.  The  propensity,  forbiddea 
in  it,  is  Covelousnefs :  an  inordinate  desire  of  worldly  enjoyments; 
and,  particularly,  an  inordinate  desire  of  such  enjoyments,  when  in 
the  possession  of  others.  We  may  lawfully  desire  the  enjoyments' 
furnished  by  this  world ;  and  that,  even  when  they  belong  W  our 
fellow-men  ;  if  the  desire  is  confined  within  due  bounds.  We  may 
desire,  lawfully,  the  lands  and  houses  of  others,  when  Ifity  are 
willing  to  part  with  them,  and  me  are  equally  willing  to  purchase 
them  at  an  equitable  price.  We  may  lawfully  wish  to  obtain  any 
share  of  worldly  good,  with  which  God  may  crown  our  honest  and 
industrious  efforts,  and  which  we  may  be  prepared  lo  enjoy  with 
a  spirit  of  gratitude,  beneficence,  anci  moderation.  I  knoai,  says 
Solomon,  that  there  is  no  good  in  them,  (that  is,  in  the  creatures 
which  God  has  made  in  this  world,  or  the  things  created  here)  but 
for  a  vtan  lo  rejoice,  anil  lo  do  good  in  his  life  ;  and  also,  that  evtry 
man  should  tat,  and  drink,  and  enjoy  the  good  of  all  his  lahour  :  tl 
w  the  gift  o/"  God. 

Aninorainatt  Desire  ofJ^atwralgood,  teems,  in  the  order  of  thingi, 
to  be  the  Commencement  of  stn  in  a  virtuous  being.  Our  first  pa- 
rents began  their  apostacy  by  coveting  the  forbidden  fruit  as  an 
enjoyment,  and  wishing  to  become  as  goda,  knowing  good  and  eviL 
In  this  disposition  seem  naturally  to  be  involved,  Ambition,  Avarice^, 
and  Voluptuous  wishes  for  its  attainment :  and  out  of  it  to  springs 
as  consequences,  Pride,  Vanity,  and  criminal  Sensuality,  in  itt' 
enjoyment;  Envy  towards  those,  who  possess  more  of  it  thaa, 
ourselves;  Anger  and  Malice  towards  those,  who  hinder  us  fi^io 
acquiring  it ;  Revenge  towards  those,  who  have  deprived  us  of  itj 


'SER.  CXnZ]  CONTENTMENT.  }^€gj 

Falsehood,  as  the  means  of  achieving  and  securing  it ;  Forgetful- 
ness,  and  therefore  Ingratitude,  with  respect  to  such  as  £ive  it; 
and  Impiety,  and  consequent  Rebellion,  Repining,  and  ftofane- 
ness,  towards  Him,  from  whom  we  receive  less  of  it,  than  our  un- 
reasonable wishes  demand.  In  a  word,  to  this  disposition  may  be 
traced,  with  no  great  difficulty,  most,*  if  not  all,  of  the  sins,  com- 
mitted by  mankind.  The  Text,  therefore,  appears  to  be  levelled 
at  the  root  of  bitterness  ;  at  a  sinful  disposition  in  its  original  form, 
and  in  the  very  commencement  of  its  existence.  If  we  obey  this 
Precept  with  the  heart ;  and  it  cannot  otherwise  be  obeyed ;  that 
Obedience  will  immediately  fulfil  all  the  demands  of  the  other 
Precepts,  belonging  to  the  second  table,  or  those,  regulating  our 
duty  to  mankina;  and,  consequentially,  will  fulfil  those  of  the  first* 
The  Tenth  Command,  therefore,  may  be  regarded  as,  in  an  exten- 
sive sense,  a  Summaty  of  our  duty. 

This  Command  directly  prohibits  Coveting;  or,  in  other  words, 
Ambition^  Avarice^  and  Voluptuous  Desires.  Of  course,  it  requires, 
universally.  Contentment^  and  by  easy  implication.  Charity.  Of 
consequence,  also,  it  forbids  Discontentment  and  Envy.  Content' 
ment^  the  Virtue  required  in  this  Precept,  shall  be  the  principal 
subject  of  the  present  discourse.  With  this  subject,  I  shall  con- 
nect some  observations  concerning  DiscorUentment  and  Envy. 
Concerning  Voluptuous  desires  I  shall  not,  here,  enter  into  any 
discussion. 

In  examining  this  subject  I  shall 

I.  Describe  the  Mature ;  and, 

II.  Mention  the  Benejits  ^  of  Contentment. 

The  Nature  of  Contentment  has  been  very  often  misapprehended* 
Persons  often  suppose  themselves  to  be  contented,  when  they  are 
merely  gay^  or  glad^  when  a  native,  or  accidental,  sprightliness  of 
mind  excludes  sorrow  and  gloom  ;  or  when  a  multiplicity  of  en- 
joyments, the  gratification  of  a  darling  wish,  or  the  success  of  a 
favourite  enterprize,  or  the  arrival  of  some  unexpected  benefit, 
fills  the  heart  with  pleasure.     Others  mistake  Indifference  and 
Phlegm  for  Contentment :  and  others,  still,  that  kind  of  dull  EauO'    , 
nimity^  which  springs  from  uniform,  grave,  and  spiritless,  employ- 
ments ;  destroying  all  the  elasticity  of  the  mind,  and  getllin^% 
down  in  an  immoveable  stagnation.     The  Contentment)  Vhicn  ii 
the  object  of  this  Precept,  difTers  radically  from  all  these  disposi-  ' 
tions.     A  man  may  be  gay,  or  glad ;  and  yet  be  totally  destitute ' 
of  this  virtue.     His  natural  disposition  may  incline  him  to  flutter 
firom  one  amusement  to  another,  without  suficrine  him  to  settle  se- 
riously upon  any*     StSl,  the  disposition,  whicn  he  mistakes  for 
Contentment,  is  only  Sportiveness.     But  no  man  will  mistrust  thai 
sportiveness  is  the  disposition  required  by  this  Precept.     A  matt  *  • 
may  be  greatly  delighted  with  his  present  enjoyments.     But  no 
person,  beside  himself,  will  mistake  nis  pleasure  for  Contentment :  ,  . 
and  a  reverse  of  fortune  may  convmce  even  him,  that  there  is  a 


w 


«28 


CONTEMTMEjT, 


[SER.  CXXIl 


wide  difference  between  these  two  stt;tes  of  mind.  Much  less  can 
ihe  othw  atlribules,  which  I  have  meniioncd,  lay  a  claim  to  this 
tille.  There  is  noUling  cxccllcnl,  nor  amiable,  in  being  merely 
grave,  insensible  lo  sulTcrings,  or  indifferent  about  them. 

The  JVords.  used  in  th*  Scriplures  lo  denote  Conlcnlmcnl,  itvcohe, 
.  as  one  of  tbeir  significaCiDllS,  ihc  restraining  of  oursthea  ;  and,  as 
. .  anollier.  the  supporting  of  luch  burdens,  as  are  incumbtnl  on  ui, 
ll  incluaes,  thereiore,  the  supposition,  that  the  contented  person  is 
placed  in  circumstances,  which  demand  the  restraint  of  nJs  incti' 
nations,  and  the  sustcniaiion  of  difficulties.  Such,  plainly,  arc 
,  the  circumstances  of  every  being,  who  can,  with  strict  proprieiv, 
be  said  to  be  contented.  To  say,  that  an  Angel  mas  cotiUnli'd, 
would  certainly  be  incorrect  phraseology,  ^n  Angel  ia  happg; 
all  his  circumstances  being  completely  gi-atifying  lo  his  desires. 
^  man,  whom  many  troubles  befal,  and  many  burdens  press,  muy, 
by  steadily  restraining  his  inchnations  to  murmur  at  the  former, 
and  serenely  supporting  the  latter,  bt  contented.  Such  is  always 
ihe  situation  of  man,  upon  the  whole.  He  is  never,  for  any  length 
of  lime,  in  a  situation  entirely  agreeable  to  him.  On  the  contra- 
ry, he  is  always  required,  in  some  degree,  and  at  short  intervals, 
to  suffer.  If  he  possess  a  contented  spirit,  he  will  suffer  with 
quietness  and  serenity. 

Having  premised  these  general  remarks,  1  observe,  thai  Evan- 
gelical ConUntmtnt,  the  object  of  the  Command  in  the  Text, 

1.  4  fixed  belief  of  the  RtaUly,  and  Excellency,  of  the  Divi 
Government. 

The  Divine  Government  is,  throughout  the  Scriptures,  made  the 
foundation  of  every  delightful,  and  even  every  comfonable, 
ihought.  This  Scheme  is  perfectly  accordant  with  the  dictates  ol 
Reason.  Both  the  views,  and  prospects,  of  the  Atheist,>as  1  have 
heretofore  shown  at  large,*  are  gloomy  and  desolate,  fuU. of  pov.— 

Elcxily  and  discouragement,  and  destitute  alike  of  comJon  aodT 
ope.  The  Lord  reignctk,  let  the  earth  rejoice  :  is  a  declaraiigo,  j 
and  a  precept  founded  on  it,  which  a  very  limited  understanding  3 
will  show  us  to  be  just;  and  a  very  moderate  degree  of  rectiludft  J 
incline  us  to  obey. 

It  is  not,  however,  sufficient  to  insure  our  obedience,  honeys 
well  disposed,  that  we  believe  in  the  superintendence  of  some  A", 
.controlling  Agent.  It  is  the  Government  of  Jehovah,  in  whichi) 
are  required  to  rejoice;  the  result  of  the  Wisdom,  Power, 
Goodness,  which  constitute  the  Perfect  Character  of  this  gloriog 
Being.  No  man  can  be  contented,  who  does  not  believe,  thai  If 
administration,  by  which  all  his  own  interests,  both  personal  a. 
£ocial,  are  ultimately  lo  be  decided,  is  both  just  and  benevolel 
The  stale  of  things,  with  which  w  c  are  immediately  concerned,  id^ 
'  See  Sermon  III. 


ti,  tn- 


OONTEimiXlfl.  5^ 

mysterious  and  distressing.  The  mysteries  we  cannot  unraTel :  the 
distresses  we  often  find  it  difficult  to  bear.  Both,  united,  most  frft-, 
quently  be  insupportable,  unless  we  could  confide  in  the  Wbdom 
and  Goodness  of  Him,  who  controls  the  Universe,  as  furnishing 
sufficient  assurance,  that  they  are  right  and  good  in  themselves, 
and  will  in  the  end  be  shown  to  be  right  and  good.  The  reality, 
and  excellence,  of  the  Divine  Government,  therefore,  must  indis- 
pensably be  objects  of  a  steady  faith  to  a  contented  mind. 

2.  ContentmerU  involves  a  humble  Hope^  generally  existing,  that 
We  are  interested  in  the  Divine  Favour, 

We  suffer  many  evils  in  the  present  world.  Philosophy  bids  us 
suffer  them  with  firmness ;  since  they  cannot  bo  avoided ;  and 
since  impatience  and  sinking  under  them  will  only  make  them 
heavier.    I  am  not  disposed  to  deny  the  prudence,  or  even  the 

i)ropriety,  of  this  precept.  It  may  be,  it  usually  is,  true,  that  we 
essen  the  degree  of  our  sufferings  by  resolving  firmly  to  endure 
them.  But  it  is  equally  true,  that  the  immoveable  nature  of  evils 
is  no  cause  of  Contentment.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  always  the 
most  distressing  consideration,  which  can  attend  them.  This,  how- 
ever, is  the  only  support,  which  Philosophy  can  give  to  the  sufferer. 
No  motive  can  rationally  make  us  willing  to  suffer.  There  is 
no  virtue  in  suffering  evil  for  its  own  sake.  All  rational  submission 
to  evil  arises  from  tne  consideration,  that  God  wills  us  to  suflfer,  as 
the  proper  reward  of  our  sins,  and  as  the  means  of  promoting  hia 
Glory,  and  the  good  of  ourselves  or  others ;  of  others  alway,  and 
of  ourselves,  if  we  do  not  prevent  it  by  our  disobedience  to  his 
pleasure.  This  motive  to  Contentment,  Christianity  holds  out  to 
Its  disciples,  invariably,  by  pointing  their  attention,  and  their  faith, 
to  the  government  of  God.  The  hope  of  an  interest  in  his  favour, 
Christianity,  also,  regularly  inspires,  by  presenting  to  them  all  the 
promises  of  infinite  Mercy  through  the  Mediation  of  Christ.  With- 
out such  a  hope,  the  ills  of  life  would  often  overcome  the  equanimi- 
ty of  such  minds,  as  ours.  The  outcast  would  be  feebly  support- 
ed by  an  assurance,  that  he  could  obtain  no  relief  for  his  suffer- 
ings ;  and  the  martyr,  by  being  told,  that  his  flames  could  not  be  ex 
tinguished.  In  the  hope  of  the  divine  mercy,  a  remedy  is  found  for 
every  present  evil ;  and  he,  who  exercises  it,  will  naturally  sum- 
mon ail  his  powers  to  sustain,  with  serenity,  distresses,  which* 
although  ^ievous  for  the  present,  will  operate  as  the  means,  and 
terminate  m  the  enjoyment,  of  everlasting  good. 

3.  Contentment  involves  a  Convictumj  that  it  is  both  our  Duty 
Mnd  our  Interest,  to  acquiesce  in  the  divine  dispensations. 

With  the  dispositions,  already  mentioned,  it  may  be  remtled  ai 
a  thine  of  course,  that  such  a  conviction  will  prevail  in  ue  mind 
If  God  is  the  universal  Ruler;  if  his  government  is  the  result  ol 
infinite  excellence ;  if  what  he  does,  or  permits  to  be  done,  is  right 
in  itself,  and  will  hereafter  appear  to  be  right ;  if  we  are  fumisnw 
iHth  a  humble  kope  of  an  interest  in  his  fieivour ;  then,  however 

^-    1"  67 


^^^^-1*^ 


530  CORBfTMEHT.  [8ER.  CZXDL 

mysterious  and  perplexing  the  events  of  Divine  Providence  mav 
be,  and  however  clistressine  to  usj  we  still  shall  see,  and  feel, 
abundant  reason  to  be  satisfied.  We  shall  readily  adnoit,  that  the 
most  untoward  events,  the  most  difficult  to  be  reconciled  with  our 
apprehensions  of  wisdom  and  goodness,  are  difficult  only  in  the 
view  of  creatures  whose  minds  are  limited,  Uke  ours*  We  shall 
believe,  that  they  are  perplexing,  only  because  we  cannot  explain 
them ;  that  they  seem  wrong,  only  because  we  cannot  understand 
them.  With  such  views,  we  shall  cheerfully  resign  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  Universe  into  the  hands  of  its  Maker,  and  wait  for  the 
removal  of  our  own  perplexities,  until  the  day  when  the  mystery 
shall  be  finished,  when  God  shall  appear  just  in  judging,  and  clear 
even  in  condemning. 

4.  Contenimeni  implies  a  Cordial  Acknowledgment^  that  we  an 
unworthy  of  the  mercies  which  we  receive. 

There  are  in  the  present  world  many  afflictions.     If  we  are 

Siiltless  beings  ;  our  sufferance  of  them  must  be  unmerited ;  and 
e  communication  of  them  to  us  by  our  Creator  is  irreconcileable 
with  all  our  ideas  of  equity.  If  we  admit  God  to  be  just ;  we  are 
obliged  also  to  admit,  tnat  ourselves  are  sinners*  If  we  are  not 
sinners,  but  are  unjustlv  distressed ;  there  4s  no  reason,  why  we 
should  be  contented  with  our  situation.  No  beine  can  be  bound 
to  be  contented  with  injustice.  But  if  we  are  smners ;  we  can 
have  no  claim  to  any  favour*  If  we  are  conscious,  that  we  are  sin- 
ners ;  we  shall  see,  that  we  have  no  such  claim*  We  shall  see, 
that,  however  small  our  blessings  may  appear,  God  hath  not  dealt 
with  us  after  our  sins,  nor  rewarded  us  according  to  our  irnqviiies. 
Enjoyments,  in  the  view  of  a  mind  thus  attempered,  will  all  ap 

Eear  to  be  mere  gifts  of  Sovereign  Goodness,  mere  emanations  oi 
enevolence,  to  a  being,  destitute  of  any  claim  to  the  favour  of 
God.  Without  such  views,  seated  in  the  heart,  and  controlling  iti 
affections,  it  appears  to  me  impossible,  that  sucha  bebg,  as  a  man, 
should  be  contented. 

5.  Contentment  involves  a  disposition  steadily  to  mark  the  daily 
mercies  of  God. 

The  great  body  of  mankind  seem  to  regard  their  enjoyments 
either  as  thines  of  course ;  or  as  acquisitions,  made  by  their  own 
ingenuity,  and  efforts.  With  such  views  it  seems  impossible,  that 
they  should  consider  them  as  blessings.  Their  afflictions,  on  the 
contrary,  they  appear  to  consider  as  mere  hardships ;  partly  as  in- 
juries, done  to  them  by  their  fellow-men,  and  partly  as  vexatious 
'  and  unluckv  events,  brought  upon  them  bv,  they  know  not  what, 
untoward  chance,  or  evil  destiny*  Accoroingly,  in  their  hours  of 
complaining,  they  customarily  pronounce  themselves  to  be  ill-sta^ 
red;  unlucky;  unfortunate;  persecuted  by  ill-fortune ;  plagued; 
•nd  harassed ;  and,  what  is  very  remarxable,  never  speak  of 
themselves  as  chastised  or  afflicted  by  God.  According  to  their 
own  accounti  their  enjoyments  are  acctdentS|  and  acquisitions ;  not 


.  V 


;♦•. 


f 


\ 


8BR.C3CZDL]  .  ooinxriil||ffr**  53t 

blessings :  and  their  sufferings  are  calamities ;  not  judgments  of  . 
God. 

Multitudes  also,  who  do  not  go  all  this  length,  suffer  the  mer- 
cies, which  they  daily  receive,  and  these  both  invaluable  and  num- 
berless, to  pass  by  them  in  a  great  measure  unre^rded*  Con* 
verse  with  tnese  men  on  this  subject ;  and  they  will  readily  ac- 
knowledge, that  all  their  enjoyments  are  gifts  of  God,  and  in  no 
sense  merited  by  themselves.  Still,  from  their  ordinary  conversa- 
tion, and  conduct,  it  is  evident,  that  such  acknowledgments  are  no 
Sart  of  the  current  state  of  their  minds.  From  their  obvious  in- 
ifference,  from  their  regardless  inattention,  amid  the  common  and 
most  necessary  blessings  of  life,  it  is  undeniably  certain,  that  they 
are  scarcely  conscious  even  of  the  existence,  much  less  of  the 
Source,  of  these  blessings*  Were  these  persons  to  number  their 
enjoyments ;  they  would  be  astonished  to  nnd  their  amount*  Were 
they  to  estimate  them ;  they  would .  be  equally  astonished  to  per- 
ceive their  value*  Were  they  to  examine  their  own  character; 
they  would  be  amazed,  that  blessings  of  such  value,  and  of  such 
an  amount,  were  bestowed  on  themselves. 

The  man,  who  actually  adopts  this  conduct,  will  soon  discern  in 
the  importance,  and  number,  of  his  enjoyments,  and  in  his  own  un- 
deserving character,  ample  reasons,  not  onlv  for  being  satisfied, 
but  also  for  being  grateful.  On  the  one  hand,  he  will  admire  that 
Divine  Goodness,  which  is  manifested  to  him  every  hour  in  so  ma- 
ny forms ;  and  will  wonder,  on  the  other,  that  it  should  be  mani- 
fested to  so  guilty  and  undeserving  a  creature.  So  long  as  we  do 
not  perceive  these  facts ;  and,  unless  we  mark  them,  we  shall  not 
perceive  them ;  it  seems  impossible,  that  wc  should  possess  a  con- 
tented spirit. 

6.  Contentment  involves  the  Moderation  of  those  desires j  which 
are  directed  to  worldly  enjoyments* 

There  are  two  modes,  in  which  mankind  seek  happiness :  £i- 
dulging  their  wishes,  and  seeking  to  find  objects,  sufficient  in  their 
nature  and  number  to  gratify  them  ;  and  confining  their  wishes  by 
choice,  and  system,  to  a  moderate  number  of  objects,  and  thus  pre" 
paring  themselves  to  find  their  enjoyment  in  such  objects,  as,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  things,  they  may  rationally  expect  to  obtain*  * . 
The  former  of  these  modes  is  generally  pursued  by  mankind. 
Still,  it  is  palpably  unwise ;  full  of  danger ;  and  regularly  attend- 
ed by  disappointment,  mortification,  and  distress.     Every  man, 
who  adopts  it,  will  be  compelled  to  learn,  that  the  state  of  this 
world  is  altogether  unsuitea  to  satisfy  numerous  and  eager  de- 
sires.    The  enjoyments,  which  it  furnishes,  are  comparatively 
few,  and  small.     They  are  incapable,  therefore,  of  fulfilling  the 
demands  of  numerous  and  extensive  desires.    At  the  same  time, 
he  will  find  his  desires  enlarging  incomparably  more,  and  ii|p 
creasing  incomparably  faster,  than  their  gratification.     A  rich' 
man  covets  property  with  far  more  greediness  than  the  posses 


^**^*¥*^-^ 


* 


mfSt  OQNTXNTBfEIfT.  [BSR.  CXnt. 

sor  of  moderate  weaUi*  He,  who  has  entered  the  chase  for 
&me,  power,  or  pleasorei  will  find  his  wishes  become  more  ve- 
hement, as  well  as  more  expanded,  by  every  new  instance  of 
luccess ;  and  will  soon  perceive,  that,  what  he  once  thought  to 
le  sufficient  good,  has  ceased  to  be  cood  at  all*  If  he  gains  all 
that  he  pursues ;  he  will,  therefore,  be  continually  less  and  less 
satisfied ;  and,  while  he  snatches  on  the  right  handj  and  devours 
on  the  leftj  he  will  still  be  hungry  in  the  midst  of  his  gluttony  and 
plunder. 

Incomparably  more  wise,  and  hopeful,  is  the  latter  of  these 
modes*  The  wishes,  which  are  directed  to  worldly  enjoyments, 
can  be  controlled,  to  an  indefinite  degree,  by  reason,  firmness,  and 
regular  pre-concertion.  In  this  case,  the  mind,  demanding  only 
moderate  enjoyments,  may  ordinarily  be  in  a  good  measure  satis- 
fied :  for,  moderate  enjoyments  not  only  exist  in  our  present  state, 
but  arc  commonly  attainable,  without  much  difficulty,  by  the  great 
body  of  mankind.  Our  wishes,  in  this  case,  are  suited  to  our  cir- 
cumstances. As,  therefore,  our  enjoyment  is  commensurate  to 
the  satisfaction  of  our  wishes ;  so,  when  our  wishes  are  moderate, 
the  moderate  enjoyments,  which  this  world  supplies,  will  furnish 
us.  with  sufficient  gratification. 

Without  this  moderation  of  our  desires,  contentment  cannot  ex- 
ist. An  eager  pursuit  of  earthly  good  would  make  an  Angel  dis- 
contented. Veneiiie>t  desires,  iinj^nuificd,  arc  sure  and  copious 
-sources  of  misery.  The  deman  ^  ♦  i)\  (Mijoyment,  in  the  mind  which 
•cherishes  them,  are  too  high  to  be  satLsfied  by  any  thing,  which 
this  world  has  to  give.  The  mind  seeks  for  enjoyment,  not  with 
the  spirit  of  a  rational,  industrious  man.  but  with  that  of  a  miser; 
'ind  cries  unceasingly,  "  Give^  give  ;'^  but,  whatever  may  be  its 
acquisitions,  is  never  sufficiently  satisfied  to  be  able  to  say,  ^^It  is 
enough,'*^ 

7.  Contentment  involves  Self-approbation. 

All  enjoyment  commences  in  the  state  of  the  mind  itself*  When 
that  is  dUturbed,  no  external  gratifications  can  be  relished,  or  re- 
.earded.  No  seasoning,  no  daintiness,  will  enable  him,  who  is 
languishing  under  a  fever,  to  relish  even  the  choicest  viands.  But 
to  ease  of  mind,  self-approbation  is  indispensable*  Unless  the 
Conscience  approve,  and  smile ;  serenity  can  never  overspread 
the  world  within.  So  long  as  the  Conscience  reproaches,  wounds, 
and  terrifies ;  the  soul  must  be  perturbed,  restless,  and  unhappy* 
That  Contentment  should  exist  in  such  a  mind,  can  neither  be 
proper,  nor  possible.  But,  whenever  the  man  begins  to  submit 
to  be  controlled  by  his  Conscience,  he  begins  to  be  approved  by 
himself.  The  tumult  of  the  soul  then  begins  to  subside:  the 
storm  ceases  to  lower,  and  to  threaten  :  the  violence  of  the  blast 
is  hushed :  the  angry  clouds  disperse.  A  summer  evening  ove^ 
spreads  the  soul ;  calm,  serene,  bright ;  the  promise  of  a  future^ 
peaceful,  and  delightful  day. 


CIAULJ 


OONTENTlfElfT. 


539 


II.  /  shall  rum  briefly  mention  same  of^  benefits  of  Content" 
ment. 

1.  Jliis  disposition  of  mind  seoures  to  us  the  Favour  of  God. 
The  preceding  Observations  make  it  evident,  that  Contentment 

is,  in  an  extensive  sen^,  obedience  to  the  Divine  Will.  It  is  also 
directly,  and  repeatedly,  commanded  in  the  Scriptm'es.  To  Tim- 
othy^  St.  Paid  writes,  Having  food  and  raiment^  let  us  be  therewith 
content.  To  the  Hebrews  he  says,  universally.  Be  content  with 
such  things  as  ye  have.  This  injunction  he  also  enforces  by  the 
best  of  all  reasons :  viz.  that  God  hath  saidj  I  will  never  leave  thee 
nor  forsake  thee.  That  God  is  pleased  with  obedience  to  his  com- 
mands, needs  no  illustration.  Equally  unnecessary  would  be  an 
attempt  to  show,  that  a  state  of  mmd,  formed,  as  Contentment  o1> 
viously  is,  chiefly  of  faith,  submission,  humility,  gratitude,  and 
self-government,  must  be  obedience  eminenUy  acceptable.  But 
him,  whom  God  approves,  He  will  bless.  The  promises  of  the 
divine  favour  to  sucn,  as  cordially  obey  the  divine  will,  are  spread 
every  where  throughout  the  Scriptures ;  and  not  one  of  them  will 
fail  of  being  accomplished.  But  the  favour  of  God  is  the  sum  of 
all  benefits,  and  the  source  whence  every  other  proceeds.  Con- 
tentment begins  with  a  hope  of  the  divine  favour;  and,  as  a  contin- 
ued course  of  obedience  to  the  commands  of  God,  originates  un- 
ceasingly new  hopes,  and  makes  sure  of  new  communications  of 
the  same  invaluable  blessing. 

2.  Contentment  enables  him^  who  possesses  t<,  to  perform  his  du- 
iy  with  more  exactness^  and  more  pleasure^  than  he  can  otherwise 
attain. 

The  contented  mind  is  unincumbered  by  many  cares,  and  many 
hindrances,  which  usually  obstruct,  and  retard,  men  in  the  per- 
formance of  their  duty.  The  serenity  of  its  disposition  leaves  it  at 
full  leisure  calmly  to  examine,  and  therefore  clearly  to  understand, 
and  thoroughly  to  feel,  the  nature,  direction,  ana  amount,  of  its 
duty.  Satisfied  with  the  divine  dispensations,  and  assured  of  the 
approbation  of  Him,  whose  dispensations  they  are,  it  is  prepared, 
beforehand,  to  accord  with  their  tenour,  and  to  perform  whatever 
they  may  require.  In  this  case,  its  obedience  ooviously  becomes 
easy,  cheerful,  and  of  course  delightful ;  as  well  as  uniform,  and 
exact.  It  is  the  punctilious  and  cheerful  obedience  of  a  chUdf 
compared  with  which  the  occasional  and  reluctant  performances 
of  a  discontented  man,  are  merely  the  mercenary  dnideery  of  an 
unfaithful  servant.  But  to  perform  our  duty  with  pleasure,  is 
to  lead  a  life  of  enjoyment :  for,  our  duty  returns  every  moment 
of  our  lives.  To  perform  our  duty,  also,  with  exactness,  is  not 
only  delightful  in  itself;  but  is  a  continual  source  of  self-approbtt- 
tion  and  peace ;  and  the  only  source,  whence  these  blessings  can 
be  derived. 

3.  The  manj  in  whom  this  spirit  prevails^  is  secured  from  mang 
Temptatums  0ndmany  Sins^  to  which  others  are  exposed. 


SER.  CXXVm.]  SLANDER   .  535 

plexcd,  bewildered,  looks  around  in  vain,  or  almost  in  vain,  to  find 
proper  objects  of  its  beneficence,  and  means,  and  modes,  of  ad- 
ministering it  with  success.  To  the  happiness  of  good  neighbour- 
hood, succeeds  a  train  of  grovelling,  base,  serpentine  hostilities :  de- 
praving all  who  practice  them,  and  distressing  all  against  whom 
they  are  practised.  Anxiety  and  dismay  haunts  every  fireside ;  and 
a  funeral  gloom  settles  upon  every  prospect,  and  broods  over 
every  hope. 

4.  The  Slanderer  ought  to  be  deterred  from  hts  purpose  hy  the  tn- 
calculable  mischiefs^  which  he  will  do  to  himself* 

It  cannot  be  supposed,  that  in  such  a  course  of  hostilities  against 
his  fellow-men,  the  Slanderer  will  escape  from  the  common  resent- 
me^of  those  whom  he  has  injured.  As  he  is  an  enemy  to  all  men; 
all  men  become  at  length  enemies  to  him.  Such  as  have  smarted 
severely  from  his  tongue,  will  usually  take  effectual  care  to  make 
him  smart  in  bis  turn.  The  vengcvance,  executed  upon  him,  will 
often  be  exemplary.  Sometimes  he  will  be  chastisea.  Sometimes 
he  win  be  prosecuted.  Sometimes  he  will  be  excluded  fi*om  all 
decent  society :  and  often,  if  not  always,  he  will  be  openly  insult- 
ted  with  indienities,  which  he  knows  not  how  to  brook,  and  yet 
dares  not  resist.  The  consciouness  of  his  guilt  will  make  him  a 
coward :  while  a  painful  conviction,  that  his  sufferings  are  a  mere 
and  just  retribution  of  his  crimes,  will  point  every  sting,  and  give 
a  double  force  to  every  blow. 

Still  more  ou^ht  he  to  be  alarmed  at  the  certain  prospect  of  de- 
praving himself.  Slander  is  a  compound  of  falsehood,  injustice, 
unkindness,  and  meanness  ;  forming  \n  itself  a  character  eminently 
depraved.  What  is  so  unhappily  begun,  proceeds  with  a  rapid  and 
dreadful  declension*  All  the  designs,  which  he  forms  in  the  in- 
dulgence of  this  characteristical  propensity;  all  the  measures, 
which  he  feels  obliged  to  employ ;  all  the  instruments,  which  he 
'an  summon  to  his  assistance  ;  all  the  gratification,  which  he  can 
•xperience  in  his  success;  are  such,  and  such  only,  as  contribute  to 
shrink,  debase,  and  pollute  his  mind.  In  such  a  soil,  a  noble,  ge-> 
nerous  thought  would  instantly  wither*  To  such  a  bosom,  honour- 
able friendship  cannot  approach*  At  the  door  of  such  a  heart, 
Christianity  knocks  for  admittance  in  vain.  His  career  is  the  career 
of  abandonment  only,  through  a  path  of  steep  and  rapid  descent^ 
going  down  to  the  chambers  of  death. 


* 


SERMON  CXXIX. 


TMtH   COMMANDMENT. CONTENTMElTTi 


B10DU8  Tt,  17. — Thou  shall  not  covet  thy  neighbour*t  houH,  (hou  dutli  nol  covet  tkf 
neighbour*t  mfif  nor  hit  man-tervant,  nor  hu  maid-ttrvant,  nor  kU  ox,  nor  kit  omb, 
nor  any  thing  that  u  thy  neighbour^ t, 

JL  HE  preceding  Precepts  of  the  Decalogue,  so  far  as  the  lan- 
guage in  which  they  are  written  is  concerned,  are  appafently 
intended  to  regulate,  chiefly,  the  external  conduct  of  mankind 
Had  they  not  oeen  explained  by  the  Prophets,  who  followed 
Moses^  and  still  more  by  our  Saviour  and  his  Apostles,  plausible 
reasons  might  be  alleged,  why  all  of  them,  even  the  fourth,  might 
be  satisfied  by  external  observances.  But  the  Precept  in  the  Text 
is  directed  immediately,  and  only,  to  the  heart }  and  is  intended 
supremely  to  control  the  disposition*  The  propensity,  forbidden 
in  it,  is  Covetousnesa :  an  inordinate  desire  of  worldly  enjoyments ; 
and,  particularly,  an  inordinate  desii*e  of  such  enjoyments,  when  in 
the  possession  of  others.  We  may  lawfully  desire  the  enjoyments 
furnished  by  this  world ;  and  that,  even  when  they  belong  to  oht 
fellow-men  ;  if  the  desire  is  confined  within  due  bounds.  We  may 
desire,  lawfully,  the  lands  and  houses  of  others,  when  they  are 
willing  to  part  with  them,  and  we  are  equally  willing  to  purchase 
them  at  an  eauilable  price.  We  may  lawfully  wish  to  obtain  any 
share  of  worldly  good,  with  which  God  may  crown  our  honest  and 
industrious  efibrts,  and  which  we  may  be  prepared  to  enjoy  with 
a  spirit  of  gratitude,  beneficence,  ancf  moderation.  /  know,  says 
Solomon^  that  there  is  no  good  in  theniy  (that  is,  in  the  creatures 
•  which  God  has  made  in  this  world,  or  the  things  created  here)  but 
^011  a  man  to  rejoice,  and  to  do  good  in  his  life  ;  and  alsOj  that  eztry 
mam  should  eat,  and  drink,  and  enjoy  the  good  of  all  his  labour  :  it 

^    is  ^gifij^  God. 

.    ♦    iSn  inormnate  Desire  of  Natural  good,  seems,  in  the  order  of  ihingSf 

1    ib  be  fJifi  Commencement  of  stn  in  a  virtuous  being.     Our  first  pa- 

^"  Vents  began  their  apostacy  by  coveting  the  forbidden  fhiit  as  an 

enjoyment,  and  wishing  to  become  as  gods,  knowing  good  and  evil. 

In  this  disposition  seem  naturally  to  be  involved.  Ambition,  Avarice, 

and  Voluptuous  wishes  for  its  attainment :  and  out  of  it  to  spring, 

fi  consequences.  Pride,  Vanity,  and  criminal  Sensuality,  in  its 

^ijoyment;  Envy  towards  those,  who  possess  more  of  it  than 

ourselves ;  Anger  and  Malice  towards  those,  who  hinder  us  fix)m 

acquiring  it ;  Revenge  towards  those,  who  have  deprived  us  of  it; 


-SER.  CXnZ]  CONTENTMENT.  5I27 

Falsehood,  as  the  means  of  achieving  and  securing  it ;  Forgetful- 
ness,  and  therefore  Ingratitude,  with  respect  to  such  as  cive  it  5 
and  Impiety,  and  consequent  Rebellion,  Repining,  and  ^ofane- 
ness,  towards  Him,  from  whom  we  receive  less  of  it,  than  our  un- 
reasonable wishes  demand.  In  a  word,  to  this  disposition  may  be 
traced,  with  no  great  difficulty,  most,*  if  not  all,  of  the  sins,  com- 
mitted by  mankind.  The  Text,  therefore,  appears  to  be  levelled 
at  the  root  of  bitterness ;  at  a  sinful  disposition  in  its  original  form, 
and  in  the  very  commencement  of  its  existence.  If  we  obey  this 
Precept  with  the  heart ;  and  it  cannot  otherwise  be  obeyed ;  that 
Obedience  will  immediately  fulfil  all  the  demands  of  the  other 
Precepts,  belonging  to  the  second  table,  or  those,  regulating  our 
duty  to  mankind;  and,  consequentially,  will  fulfil  those  of  the  first. 
The  Tenth  Command,  therefore,  may  be  regarded  as,  in  an  exten- 
sive sense,  a  Summaty  of  our  duty. 

This  Command  directly  prohibits  Coveting;  or,  in  other  words, 
Ambition^  Avarice^  and  Voluptuous  Desires.  Of  course,  it  requires, 
universally.  Contentment^  and  by  easy  implication.  Charity.  Of 
consequence,  also,  it  forbids  Discontentmeni  and  Envy.  Content- 
mentj  the  Virtue  required  in  this  Precept,  shall  be  the  principal 
subject  of  the  present  discourse.  With  this  subject,  I  shall  con- 
nect some  observations  concerning  Discontentment  and  Envy. 
Concerning  Voluptuous  desires  I  shall  not,  here,  enter  into  any 
discussion. 

In  examining  this  subject  I  shall 

I.  Describe  the  Mature  ^  and, 

II.  Mention  the  Benefits;  of  Contentment. 

The  Nature  of  Contentment  has  been  very  often  misapprehended* 
Persons  often  suppose  themselves  to  be  contented,  when  they  are 
merely  gay,  or  glad;  when  a  native,  or  accidental,  sprightliness  of 
mind  excludes  sorrow  and  gloom  ;  or  when  a  multiplicity  of  en- 
joyments, the  gratification  of  a  darling  wish,  or  the  success  of  a 
favourite  enterprize,  or  the  arrival  of  some  unexpected  benefit, 
fills  the  heart  with  pleasure.  Others  mistake  Indifference  and 
Phlegm  for  Contentment :  and  others,  still,  that  kind  of  dull  Eoua^ 
nimity^  which  springs  from  uniform,  grave,  and  spiritless,  employ- 
ments ;  destroying  all  the  elasticity  of  the  mind,  and  getlling'nt 
down  in  an  immoveable  stagnation.  The  Contentment^- Vhicn  ii 
the  object  of  this  Precept,  difiers  radically  from  all  these  dispo^-  • 
tions.  A  man  may  be  gay,  or  glad ;  and  yet  be  tot^ly  destitute ' 
of  this  virtue.  His  natural  disposition  may  incline  him  to  flutter 
from  one  amusement  to  another,  without  sunerine  him  to  settle  se- 
riously upon  any.  Still,  the  disposition,  whicn  he  mistakes  for 
Contentment,  is  only  Sportiveness.  But  no  man  will  mistrust  th^ 
sportiveness  is  the  disposition  required  by  this  Precept.  A  mail  ^ 
may  be  greatly  delighted  with  his  present  enjoyments.  But  no 
person,  beside  himself,  will  mistake  nis  pleasure  for  Contentment : 
and  a  reverse  of  fortune  may  convmce  even  him,  that  there  is  a 


I   k 


:^28  \  GONT£NTM£^.  [S£R. 

wide  difference  between  these  two  stc^tes  of  mind.     Much  less  can 
^the  oth«r  attributes,  which  I  have  mentioned,  lay  a  claim  to  this 
^.    fitle«v   There  is  noUunjg  excellent,  nor  amiable,  in  being  merely 
grare,  insensible  to  sunerings,  or  indifferent  about  them. 
,       The  Wordsj  used  in  the  Scriptures  to  denote  Contentment j  invohe, 
.  as  one  of  their  significatiOBSi  the  restraining  of  ourselves  ;  and,  as 
i^P another,  the  supporting  of  euch  burdens^  as  are  incumhtnt  onus. 
It  includes,  therefore,  the  supposition,  that  the  contented  person  b 
I  placed  in  circumstances,  which  demand  the  restraint  of  his  iDcli- 
^  nations,  and  the  sustentation  of  difficulties.      Such,  plainly,  are 
.  the  circumstances  of  every  being,  who  can,  with  strict  proprietv, 
be  said  to  be  contented.     To  say,  that  an  Angel  was  contented^ 
would  certainly  be  incorrect  phraseology.     An  Angel  is  happ^; 
all  his  circumstances  being  completely  gratifying  to  his  desires. 
A  man^  whom  many  troubles  befal,  and  many  burdens  press,  nwiy, 
by  steadily  restraining  his  inclinations  to  murmur  at  the  former, 
and  serenely  supporting  the  latter,  be  contented.     Such  is  always 
the  situation  of  man,  upon  the  whole.     He  is  never,  for  any  length 
of  time,  in  a  situation  entirely  agreeable  to  him.     On  the  contra- 
ry, he  is  always  required,  in  some  degree,  and  at  short  intervals, 
to  suffer.     If  he  possess  a  contented  spirit,  he  will  suffer  wiih 
quietness  and  serenity. 

Halving  premised  these  general  remarks,  I  observe,  that  Eztor 
gelical  Contentment,  the  object  of  the  Command  in  the  Text,  m- 
vohes, 

1.  A  fixed  belief  of  the  Reality,  and  Excellency,  of  the  Divim 
Government, 

The  Divine  Government  is,  throughout  the  Scriptures,  made  the 
foundation  of  every  delightful,  and  even  every  comfortable, 
thought.  This  Scheme  is  perfectly  accordant  with  the  dictates  of 
Reason.  Both  the  views,  and  prospects,  of  the  Atheist*  as  I  have 
heretofore  shown  at  large,*  are  gloomy  and  desolate,  full  of  per 

Elexity  and  discouragement,  and  destitute  alike  of  comfort  and 
ope.     The  Lord  reigneth,  let  the  earth  rejoice  :  is  a  decJaratioD, 
and  a  precept  founded  on  it,  which  a  very  limited  understanding 
will  show  us  to  be  just  5  and  a  very  moderate  degree  of  rectitude 
.   mchne  us  to  obey. 

It  is  not,  however,  sufficient  to  insure  our  obedience,  however 
well  disposed,  that  we  believe  in  the  superintendence  of  some  AU- 
.controlling  Agent.  It  is  the  Government  of  Jehovah,  in  which  wc 
are  required  to  rejoice;  the  result  of  the  Wisdom,  Power,  and 
Goodness,  which  constitute  the  Perfect  Character  of  this  glorious 
Being.  No  man  can  be  contented,  who  does  not  believe,  that  the 
administration,  by  which  all  his  own  interests,  both  personal  and 
social,  are  ultimately  to  be  decided,  is  both  iust  and  benevolent. 
The  state  of  things,  with  which  we  are  immediately  concerned,  is 

*  See  Sermon  m. 


SOL.  CXXUL]  CONTEniMEMT.  539 

mysterious  and  distressing.  The  mysteries  wc  cannot  unravel ;  the 
distresses  wc  often  And  it  difficult  to  bear.  Doth,  united,  must  fre- 
quendy  be  insupportable,  unless  we  could  confide  in  the  Wisdom 
and  Goodness  of  Him,  who  controls  the  Universe,  as  furnishing 
sufficient  assurance,  that  they  are  right  and  good  in  themselves, 
and  will  in  the  end  he  shown  to  be  right  and  good.  The  reality, 
and  excellence,  of  the  Divine  Government,  therefore,  must  indis- 
pensably be  objects  of  a  steady  faith  to  a  contented  mind. 

2.  Conlenlment  involves  a  humble  Hope,  gentrally  existing,  thai 
We  are  interested  in  the  Divine  Favour. 

We  suffer  many  evils  in  the  present  world.  Philosophy  bids  us 
suffer  them  with  firmness;  since  they  cannot  be  avoided;  and 
since  impatience  and  sinking  under  them  will  only  make  them 
heavier.     I  am  not  disposed  to  deny  the  prudence,  or  even  the 

firoprieiy,  of  this  precept.  It  may  be,  it  usually  is,  true,  that  we 
essen  the  degree  of  our  sufferings  by  resolving  firmly  to  endure 
them.  But  it  is  equally  true,  (bat  the  immoveable  nature  of  evils 
is  no  cause  of  Contentment.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  always  [he 
most  distressing  consideration,  which  can  attend  them.  This,  how- 
ever, is  the  only  support,  which  Philosophy  can  give  to  the  sufferer. 
No  motive  can  rationally  make  us  wilhng  to  suffer.  There  is 
no  virtue  in  suffering  evil  for  its  own  sake.  All  rational  submission 
to  evil  arises  from  the  consideration,  that  God  wills  us  to  suffert  at 
the  proper  reward  of  our  sins,  and  as  the  means  of  promoting  hij 
Glory,  and  the  good  of  ourselves  or  others  ;  of  others  alway,  and 
of  ourselves,  if  we  do  not  prevent  it  by  our  disobedience  to  his 
pleasure.  This  motive  to  Contentment,  Christianity  holds  out  to 
Its  disciples,  invariably,  by  pointing  their  attention,  and  their  faithf 
to  the  government  of  God.  The  hope  of  an  interest  in  his  favour, 
Christianity,  also,  regularly  inspires,  by  presenting  to  them  all  the 
promises  of  infinite  Mercy  through  the  Mediation  of  Christ.  With- 
out such  a  hope,  the  ills  of  life  would  often  overcome  the  equanimi- 
ty of  such  minds,  as  ours.  The  outcast  would  be  feebly  support- 
ed by  an  assurance,  that  he  could  obtain  no  relief  for  his  suffer- 
ings ;  and  the  martyr,  by  being  told,  that  his  flames  could  not  be  ex 
tinguished.  In  the  hope  of  the  divine  mercy,  a  remedy  is  found  for 
every  present  evil ;  and  he,  who  exercises  it,  will  naturally  sum- 
mon all  his  powers  to  sustain,  with  serenity,  distresses,  which, 
although  grievous  for  the  present,  will  operate  as  the  means,  and 
terminate  in  the  enjoyment,  of  everlasting  good. 

3.  Contentment  involve)  a  Conviction,  thai  it  is  both  our  Duly 
gnd  our  Interest,  to  acquiesce  in  the  divine  disptnsations. 

With  the  dispositions,  already  mentioned,  it  may  be  re^rdedai 
a  thing  of  course,  that  such  a  conviction  will  prevail  in  the  mind 
If  God  is  the  universal  Ruler;  if  his  government  is  the  result  sA 
infinite  excellence ;  if  what  he  does,  or  permits  to  be  done,  is  right 
bi  itself,  and  will  hereafter  appear  to  be  right ;  if  we  are  furnished 
Hitfa  a  humble  hope  of  an  interest  in  his  favour ;  then,  however 

w„    III  g7 


\ 


■11 


■•''   ,5- 


4 

V 


•  • 


530  ^XmlWiBIEllT.  [8ER.  CZXCL 

mysterious  and  pciplekm^  the  events  of  Divine  Providence  mat 
be,  and  however  oistressing  to  us,  we  still  shall  see,  and  feel, 
abundant  reason  to  be  satisfied.  We  shall  readily  admit,  that  the 
most  untoward  events,  the  most  difScult  to  be  reconciled  with  oar 
apprehensions  of  wisdom  and  goodness,  are  difficult  only  in  the 
view  of  creatures  whose  minds  are  limited,  like  ours.  We  shall 
believe,  that  they  are  perplexing,  only  because  we  cannot  explain 
them ;  that  they  seem  wrong,  only  because  we  cannot  understand 
them.  With  such  views,  we  shall  cheerfully  resign  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  Universe  into  the  hands  of  its  Maker,  and  wait  for  the 
removal  of  our  own  perplexities,  until  the  day  when  the  nysiery 
shall  be  finished,  when  God  shall  appear  just  in  judging,  and  clear 
even  in  condemning. 

4*  Contentment  implies  a  Cordial  Acknomledgment^  that  wt  an 
unworthy  of  the  mercies  which  we  receive. 

There  are  in  the  present  world  many  afflictions.     If  we  are 

Siiltless  beings  ;  our  sufferance  of  them  must  be  unmerited ;  and 
e  communication  of  them  to  us  by  our  Creator  is  irreconcileable 
with  all  our  ideas  of  eouity.  If  we  admit  God  to  be  just ;  we  are 
obliged  also  to  admit,  tnat  ourselves  are  sinners.  If  we  are  not 
sinners,  but  are  unjustlv  distressed ;  there  <is  no  reason,  why  we 
should  be  contented  with  our  situation*  No  being  can  be  bound 
to  be  contented  with  injustice*  But  if  we  are  smners ;  we  can 
have  no  claim  to  any  favour.  If  we  are  conscious,  that  we  are  sin- 
ners ;  we  shall  see,  that  we  have  no  such  claim.  We  shall  see, 
that,  however  small  our  blessings  may  appear,  God  hath  not  itah 
with  us  after  our  sins,  nor  rewarded  us  according  to  our  iniquitits. 
Enjoyments,  in  the  view  of  a  mind  thus  attempered,  will  all  ap 
pear  to  be  mere  gifts  of  Sovereign  Goodness,  mere  emanations  of 
benevolence,  to  a  being,  destitute  of  any  claim  to  the  favour  of 
God.  Without  such  views,  seated  in  the  heart,  and  controlling  iti 
affections,  it  appears  to  me  impossible,  that  such  a  being,  as  a  man, 
should  be  contented. 

5.  Contentment  involves  a  disposition  steadily  to  mark  the  daily 
mercies  of  God. 

The  great  body  of  mankind  seem  to  regard  their  enjoyments 
either  as  thines  of  course ;  or  as  acquisitions,  made  by  the'u*  own 
ingenuity,  and  efforts.  With  such  views  it  seems  impossible,  thai 
they  should  consider  them  as  blessings.  Their  afflictions,  on  the 
contrary,  they  appear  to  consider  as  mere  hardships ;  partly  as  in* 
juries,  done  to  them  by  their  fellow-men,  and  partly  as  vexatious 
>  and  unluckv  events,  brought  upon  them  by,  they  know  not  whal^ 
untoward  chance,  or  evil  destiny.  Accoraingly,  in  their  hours  of 
complaining,  they  customarily  pronounce  themselves  to  be  iIl-sta^ 
red;  unlucky;  unfortunate;  persecuted  by  ill-fortune ;  plagued; 
•nd  harassed ;  and,  what  is  very  remarkable,  never  speak  of 
themselves  as  chastised  or  afflicted  by  God.  According  to  their 
own  accounti  their  enjoyments  are  acctdentSi  and  acquisitions ;  not 


f 

blessings :  and  their  sufTerings  are  calamities ;  not  judgments  of  . 
God. 

Multitudes  also,  who  do  not  go  all  this  length,  suffer  the  mer- 
cies, which  they  daily  receive,  and  these  both  mvaluable  and  num- 
berless, to  pass  by  them  in  a  great  measure  unre^rded.  Con* 
verse  with  these  men  on  this  subject ;  and  they  will  readily  ac- 
knowledge, that  all  their  enjoyments  are  gifts  of  God,  and  in  no 
sense  merited  by  themselves*  Still,  from  their  ordinary  conversa- 
tion, and  conduct,  it  is  evident,  that  such  acknowledgments  are  no 
Sart  of  the  current  state  of  their  minds.  From  their  obvious  in- 
ifierence,  from  their  regardless  inattention,  amid  the  common  and 
most  necessary  blessings  of  life,  it  is  undeniably  certain,  that  they 
are  scarcely  conscious  even  of  the  existence,  much  less  of  the 
Source,  of  these  blessings.  Were  these  persons  to  number  their 
enjoyments ;  they  woulcf  be  astonished  to  nnd  their  amount.  Were 
they  to  estimate  them ;  they  would .  be  equally  astonished  to  per- 
ceive their  value.  Were  they  to  examine  their  own  character; 
they  would  be  amazed,  that  blessings  of  such  value,  and  of  such 
an  amount,  were  bestowed  on  themselves. 

The  man,  who  actually  adopts  this  conduct,  will  soon  discern  in 
the  importance,  and  number,  of  his  enjoyments,  and  in  his  own  un- 
deserving character,  ample  reasons,  not  only  for  being  satisfied, 
but  also  for  being  grateful.  On  the  one  hand,  he  will  admire  that 
Divine  Goodness,  which  is  manifested  to  him  every  hour  in  so  ma- 
ny forms ;  and  will  wonder,  on  the  other,  that  it  should  be  mani- 
fested to  so  guilty  and  undeserving  a  creature.  So  long  as  we  do 
not  perceive  these  facts ;  and,  unless  we  mark  them,  we  shall  not 
perceive  them ;  it  seems  impossible,  that  we  should  possess  a  con- 
tented spirit. 

6.  Contentment  involves  the  Moderation  of  those  desires^  which 
are  directed  to  worldly  enjoyments* 

There  are  two  modes,  in  which  mankind  seek  happiness :  ^ 
dxdging  their  wishes  J  and  seeking  to  find  objects^  sufficient  in  their 
nature  and  number  to  gratify  them ;  and  confining  their  wishes  by 
choice,  and  system,  to  a  moderate  nitmber  of  objects,  and  thus  pre-- 
paring  themselves  to  find  their  enjoyment  in  such  objects,  as,  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  things,  they  may  rationally  expect  to  obtain.  « . 
The  former  of  these  modes  is  generally  pursued  by  mankind. 
Still,  it  is  palpably  unwise ;  full  of  danger ;  and  regularly  attend- 
ed by  disappointment,  mortification,  and  distress.  Every  man, 
who  adopts  it,  will  be  compelled  to  learn,  that  the  state  of  this 
world  is  altogether  unsuited  to  satisfy  numerous  and  eager  de- 
sires. The  enjoyments,  which  it  furnishes,  are  comparatively 
few,  and  small.  They  are  incapable,  therefore,  of  fulfilling  the 
demands  of  numerous  and  extensive  desires.  At  the  same  time, 
he  will  find  his  desires  enlarging  incomparably  more,  and  iik* 
creasing  incomparably  faster,  than  their  gratification.  A  rich' 
man  covets  property  with  far  more  greediness  than  the  posses^ 


* 

< 

•         i 

* 

099 

OONTXNTBfEIfX. 

[BSCU  CV4. 

sor  of  moderate  weal^.  He,  who  has  entered  the  chase  for 
&me,  power,  or  pleasuri^^  will  find  his  wishes  become  more  ve- 
hement, as  well  as  more  expanded,  by  every  new  instance  of 
luccess ;  and  will  soon  perceive,  that,  what  he  once  thought  to 
le  sufScient  good,  has  ceased  to  be  eood  at  all.  If  he  gains  aD 
that  he  pursues ;  he  will,  therefore,  be  continually  less  and  less 
satisfied ;  and,  while  Ae  snatches  on  the  right  hand,  and  devows 
on  the  left  J  he  will  still  be  hungry  in  the  midst  of  his  gluttony  aixl 
plunder. 

Incomparably  more  wise,  and  hopeful,  is  the  latter  of  these 
modes.  The  wishes,  which  are  directed  to  worldly  enjoyments, 
can  be  controlled,  to  an  indefinite  degree,  by  reason,  firmness,  and 
regular  pre-concertion.  In  this  case,  the  mind,  demanding  only 
moderate  enjoyments,  may  ordinarily  be  in  a  good  measure  satis- 
fied :  for,  moderate  enjoyments  not  only  exist  in  our  present  state, 
but  arc  commonly  attainable,  without  much  difficulty,  by  the  great 
body  of  mankind.  Our  wishes,  in  this  case,  are  suited  to  our  d^ 
cumstances.  As,  therefore,  our  enjoyment  is  commensurate  to 
the  satisfaction  of  our  wishes ;  so,  when  our  wishes  are  moderate, 
the  moderate  enjoyments,  which  this  world  supplies,  will  fiimish 
us  with  sufficient  gratification. 

Without  this  moderation  of  our  desires,  contentment  cannot  ex- 
ist. An  eager  pursuit  of  earthly  good  would  make  an  Angel  dis- 
contented. Veheiiirit  desires,  mii^ratificd,  arc  sure  and  copious 
, sources  of  misery.  The  demaii  ' »  o\  enjoyment,  in  the  mind  which 
•cherishes  them,  are  too  high  to  be  satisfied  by  any  thing,  which 
this  world  has  to  give.  The  mind  seeks  for  enjoyment,  not  with 
the  spirit  of  a  rational,  industrious  man.  but  with  that  of  a  miser; 
^nd  cries  unceasingly,  "  Gtrc,  give  ;'^  but,  whatever  may  be  its 
acquisitions,  is  never  sufficiently  satisfied  to  be  able  to  say,  ^^Itis 
enqugh.^^ 

7.  Contentment  involves  Self-approbation. 

All  enjoyment  commences  in  the  state  of  the  mind  itself.  When 
that  is  difiturbed,  no  external  gratifications  can  be  relished,  or  re- 
.garded.  No  seasoning,  no  daintiness,  will  enable  him,  who  is 
languishing  under  a  fever,  to  relish  even  the  choicest  viands.  But 
to  ease  of  mind,  self-approbation  is  indispensable.  Unless  the 
Conscience  approve,  and  smile ;  serenity  can  never  overspread 
the  world  within.  So  long  as  the  Conscience  reproaches,  wounds, 
and  terrifies ;  the  soul  must  be  perturbed,  restless,  and  unhappy. 
That  Contentment  should  exist  in  such  a  mind,  can  neither  be 
proper,  nor  possible.  But,  whenever  the  man  begins  to  submit 
to  be  controlled  by  his  Conscience,  he  begins  to  be  approved  by 
himself.  The  tumult  of  the  soul  then  begins  to  subside:  the 
storm  ceases  to  lower,  and  to  threaten :  the  violence  of  the  blast 
is  hushed :  the  angry  clouds  disperse.  A  summer  evening  over- 
spreads the  soul ;  calm,  serene,  bright ;  the  promise  of  a  future^ 
peaceful,  and  delightful  day^ 


y\ 


•  • 


.J  COHTENTBfENT.  533 

IL  /  shall  now  briefly  mention  some  o/fk^  benefits  of  Content' 
ment* 

1*  TTiis  disposition  of  mind  seoures  to  us  the  Favour  of  God. 

The  preceding  Observations  make  it  evident,  that  Contentment 
is,  in  an  extensive  sen^,  obedience  to  the  Divine  Will.  It  is  also 
directly,  and  repeatedly,  commanded  in  the  Scriptures.  To  IVm- 
o/Ay,  St.  Paul  writes,  naving  food  and  raiment j  let  us  be  therewith 
content.  To  the  Hebrews  he  says,  universally,  Be  content  with 
such  things  as  ye  have.  This  injunction  he  also  enforces  by  the 
best  of  all  reasons  :  viz*  that  God  hath  said^  I  will  never  leave  thee 
nor  forsake  thee.  That  God  is  pleased  with  obedience  to  his  com- 
mands, needs  no  illustration*  Equally  unnecessary  would  be  an 
attempt  to  show,  that  a  state  of  mmd,  formed,  as  Contentment  ob- 
viously is,  chiefly  of  faith,  submission,  humility,  gratitude,  and 
self-government,  must  be  obedience  eminently  acceptable.  But 
him,  whom  God  approves.  He  will  bless.  The  promises  of  the 
divine  favour  to  sucn,  as  cordially  obey  the  divine  will,  are  spread 
every  where  throughout  the  Scriptures ;  and  not  one  of  them  will 
fail  of  being  accomplished*  But  the  favour  of  God  is  the  sum  of 
all  benefits,  and  the  source  whence  every  other  proceeds.  Con- 
tentment begins  with  a  hope  of  the  divine  favour;  and,  as  a  contin- 
ued course  of  obedience  to  the  commands  of  God,  originates  un- 
ceasingly new  hopes,  and  makes  sure  of  new  communications  of 
the  same  invaluable  blessing. 

2.  Contentment  enables  Atm,  who  possesses  it^  to  perform  his  Jti- 
ty  with  more  exactness^  and  more  pleasure^  than  he  can  othenoise 
attain. 

The  contented  mind  is  unincumbered  by  many  cares,.and  many 
hindrances,  whTch  usually  obstruct,  and  retard,  men  in  the  per- 
formance of  their  duty.  The  serenity  of  its  disposition  leaves  it  at 
full  leisure  calmly  to  examine,  and  therefore  clearlv  to  understand, 
and  thoroughly  to  feel,  the  nature,  direction,  ana  amount,  of  its 
duty.  Satisfied  with  the  divine  dispensations,  and  assured  of  the 
approbation  of  Him,  whose  dispensations  they  are,  it  is  prepared, 
beforehand,  to  accord  with  their  tenour,  and  to  perform  whatever 
they  may  require*  In  this  case,  its  obedience  olbviously  becomes 
easy,  cheerful,  and  of  course  delighiful ;  as  well  as  uniform,  and 
exact.  It  is  the  punctilious  and  cheerful  obedience  of  2l  child  f 
compared  with  which  the  occasional  and  reluctant  performances 
of  a  discontented  man,  are  merely  the  mercenary  drudgery  of  an 
unfaithful  servant.  But  to  perform  our  duty  with  pleasure,  is 
to  lead  a  life  of  enjoyment :  lor,  our  duty  returns  every  moment 
of  our  lives*  To  perform  our  duty,  also,  with  exactness,  is  not 
only  delightful  in  itself;  but  is  a  continual  source  of  self-approba- 
tion and  peace ;  and  the  only  source,  whence  these  blessings  can 
be  derived. 

3*  The  manj  m  whom  this  spirit  prevails^  is  secured  from  mang 
Temptations  find  maty  Sins^  to  which  others  are  exposed. 


5^  t  CONTENTMENT.  [Si3L  CX3QQL 

A  discontented  num  naturally  indulges,  and  is  always  liable  to, 
the  sin  of  murmuring  against  God,  arraigning  his  Justice,  Wisdom, 
and  Goodness,  and  hardening  his  heart  against  his  Mercy ;  be- 
cause he  is  impatient  under  his  own  allotments,  and  unwilling  to 
accord  with  any  proposals  from  a  Being,  whose  Character  he 
^   disrelishes,  and  whose  Conduct  he  regards  as  the  source  of  bis 
troubles.     The  envious  man  is  prompted  by  his  ruling  disposi- 
tion to  repine  at  the  blessings  of  others ;  to  accuse  God  of  pai^ 
;f  tiality  in  bestowing  them ;  to  wish  them  lessened;  to  resort  not 
mfrequently  to  active,  insidious,  and  malignant  exertions  for  the 
purpose  of  lessening  them ;  and  to  exercise  a  kind  of  infernal 
joy,  when  they  are  taken  away.     Such  a  man  turns  a  gloomj, 
misanthropic  eye  on  all  those,  who,  he  tliinks,  are  richer,  great- 
'  er,  wiser,  or  happier,  than  himself.     From  these  rebellious  and 
fiendr.like  dispositions,  from  the  temptations  which  they  create,  and 
,  the  sins  to  which  they  lead,  the  contented  mind  is  delightfullj 
,-fi:ee.     Satisfied  with  its  own  lot,  it  feels  no  anxiety,  mortification, 
•  ^'ir  opposition  to  its  Maker,  because  others  are  possessed  of  supe- 
*rior  good.     Particularly,  it  is  undisturbed  by  the  si^hl  of  supe- 
rior wealth  in  the  possession  of  others  ;  of  superior  power,  pleas- 
ures, reputation,  and  influence.     On  all  these  splendours  it  can 
look,  as  the  eagle  on  the  Sun,  \Vith  a  steady  and  serene  eye;  aod 
can  iind  its  happiness  not  lessened,  but  increased,  because  others 
are  happy.     The  disposal,  both  of  its  own  concerns  and  theirs,  it 
is  willing  to  leave  wnolly  to  God ;  and  prepared   to  enjoy  any 
good,  which  He  is  pleased  to  bestow,  whoever  may  be  the  re- 
cipient.    Thus, 

4.  //  is  a  disposition  eminently  Peaceful  and  Comfortable. 

On  the  one  hand,  it  is  preserved  from  many  troubles,  suffered 
by  others ;  and  on  the  other,  finds  many  pleasures,  which  others 
never  know.  The  distress,  experienced  in  an  unceasing  course 
of  disappointments,  by  all  discontented,  covetous,  and  ambitious 
men,  is  chiefly  unknown  to  him,  who  has  acquired  this  delightful 
spirit.  Equally  free  is  he,  also,  from  the  pain  of  ungratified  de- 
sires, and  from  continual  fears,  that  his  desires  will  be  ungratifi- 
ed. Nor  is  he  less  secure  from  that  complication  of  wo,  which 
springs  incessantly  from  distrust  of  the  goodness  and  faithfulness 
of  God ;  from  murmuring  against  his  providence  :  from  reluc- 
tance to  obey  his  pleasure ;  and  from  the  consciousness  of  not 
having-  faithfully  obeyed  at  all.  At  the  same  time,  he  is  delivered 
from  those  fears  of  future  wo,  which  so  often  harass  the  minds  of 
guilty  men. 

It  is  not  here  intended  to  insinuate,  that  the  Contented  man  is 
free  from  affictions :  but  that  he  is  comparatively  free  from  them, 
is  unquestionable.  Contentment  will  not  remove  the  thorns  and 
briers,  spread  over  this  unhappy  world  by  the  apostacy ;  and  re- 
new u])on  its  face  the  bloom,  the  beauty,  and  the  fragrance,  of 
Eden.    But  it  wiU  blunt  the  point  of  many  a  thorn,  and  convot 


SS9U  CXXIX.]  CONTENTlffilfT.  535  ' 

many  a  wilderness  into  a  fruitful  field*  The  sorrows,  which  it 
feels,  will  be  all  allayed  by  the  remembrance,  that  they  come  from 
the  hand  of  the  Infinitely  Good ;  and  by  the  hope  that  they  will 
all  tc  rminate  in  the  promotion  of  its  own  best  interests.  To  the 
blast  of  calamity,  also,  it  yields,  like  the  willow ;  and  is,  there- 
fore, not  rooted  up  and  destroyed.  In  the  mean  time,  whenever 
troubles  arrive,  however  numerous  or  great  they  may  be,  their 
distressing  eflficacy  is  always  allayed  by  the  soothing,  balmy,  in- 
fluence of  peace  and  self-approbation.  ■  * 

This  dehghtful  influence,  also,  is  regularly  difiused  over  every 
enjoyment.  The  enjoyments  of  the  contented  man  are,  in  his 
view,  all  gifts,  and  blessings ;  not  acquisitions,  made  by  his  own  in- 
genuity and  efforts.  As  gifts,  they  are  relished  with  gratitude  to 
their  Glorious  Author.  The  light,  in  which  they  are  seen  by 
this  grateful  disposition,  is  always  dossy  and  brilliant ;  and  the 
taste,  which  they  furnish,  is  singularly  sweet.  Thus  the  content- 
ed man  finds  pleasures,  where  others  find  only  troubles.  Thudx.  - 
when  troubles  arrest  him,  their  bitterness  is  allayed :  and  thus  alt 
the  pleasures,  which  he  finds,  are  enhanced  by  his  own  happy 
disposition.  Even  in  seasons,  when  darkness  overspreads  the 
world ;  and  such  seasons,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  there  are ; 
when  the  gloom  overshadows  his  mind,  as  well  as  the  minds  of 
those  around  him  ;  and  when  the  face  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
is  eclipsed,  to  the  eyes  of  mankind ;  hope,  humble  and  serene, 
will  lift  up  her  exploring  eye,  and  behold  the  divine  luminary 
still  visible,  and  environing  the  intervening  darkness  with  a  circle 
of  Glory. 

5.  ContentmerU  renders  its  possessor  eminently  Pleasing  and  Com* 
fortahle  to  others. 

Uniform  serenity,  cheerfulness,  and  sweetness  of  disposition^ 
constitute  that  character  in  man,  which  to  his  fellow-men  is  more 
agreeable  than  any  other.  Religion  itself,  however  pious  and  be- 
nevolent the  mind  may  be,  is  despoiled,  if  sensibly  destitute  of 
this  disposition,  of  its  peculiar  burnish  and  beauty.  It  will  in- 
deed be  approved,  ana  esteemed.  But  it  will  not  be  entirely 
relished.  Gravity,  existing  beyond  a  certain  degree,  may  ren- 
der it  forbidding.  Reserve  may  render  it  suspicious ;  and  a  sor- 
rowful, melancholy  aspect  may  excite  a  sympathy,  so  painful,  a9> 
to  make  it  unwelcome.  But  a  sweet,  serene,  and  cheerful,  tem- 
per is  the  object,  not  only  of  esteem,  but  of  delight.  The 
presence  of  a  person^  who  manifests  this  temper^  is  universally 
coveted;  and  diffiises  a  kind  of  lustre  over  every  circle.  He 
is  accordingly  welcomed  to  every  bouse,  and  to.  every  compa- 
ny. Even  men,  destitute  of  Religion,  will  strongly  relish  nis 
company ;  and  will  never  mention  nis  character  wiUiout  pointed 
commendation.  • 

Beside  the  immediate,  and  extensive,  pleasure,  which  sucb  a 
person  communicates  to  those  with  whom  be  oonverses,  this  dis- 


jjgg  CONTENTMENT,  [SER  CXXX 

posilion  recommends  his  opinions,  his  rules  of  life,  his  various  con- 
dact,  and  the  several  plans,  which  he  proposes  for  the  beneCt  of 
mankind.  Multiludes  will  embark  wilti  readiness  aod  ardour  in 
the  promotion  of  purposes,  which  he  recommends  ;  because  they 
are  recommended  oy  Aim;  because  [hey  think  favourably  of  what- 
ever he  proposes,  and  love  to  unite  with  him  in  any  pursuit. 
Thus,  this  spirit,  beside  rendering  him  eminently  agreeable  to 
others,  gives  him  an  influence  with  mankind,  whicb  he  could  not 
otherwise  possess;  and  in  the  happiest  manner  increases  bis  po«- 
er  to  do  good.  It  deserves  particular  consideration,  that  some  of 
the  most  popular  men,  who  have  ever  lived  in  this  country,  have 
not  been  distinguished  for  brilliancy  of  genius,  extensiveness  of 
views,  or  profoundness  of  research ;  but,  while  they  possessed 
respectable  talents,  were  remarkably  distinguished  by  the  dispo- 
sition, which  I  have  here  described. 

Of  this  disposition,  Contentment  is  the  uniform,  and  the  only 
efficacious,  source.  By  a  discontented  man,  it  can  be  assamed 
only  by  effort,  and  for  a  moment ;  and  must  speedily,  and  chatac- 
teristically,  give  way  to  the  uneasy,  fretful  spirit,  which  has  taken 
possession  of  his  mind.  There  is,  indeed,  a  native  good  bunoar, 
which  is  pleasant  to  the  possessor,  and  very  agreeable  lo  thiw 
with  whom  he  converses.  But  this  desirable  disposition,  although 
possessing  many  advantages,  is  radically  defective,  because  it  it 
a  mere  propensity,  and  not  a  moral  principle.  Too  frail  to  sustain 
the  rude  shocks,  or  the  long-continued  pressure,  of  adversity,  it  a 
prone  to  g^ve  way  in  seasons  of  severe  trial;  and  is  incapable  of 
the  serooc  and  steady  endurance,  so  characleristical  of  a  conteoK 
ed  mind.  Such  a  mind  may  bend  ;  but,  while  life  lasts,  it  will 
break.  Where  native  good  humour  would  shrink,  and  fly,  & 
the  conflict,  on  innumerable  occasions;  the  Contented  mind  i 
firmly  brave  the  danger ;  sustain  the  assault ;  and,  with  a  co 
noiseless,  unruffled  energy,  in  the  end,  overcome.  At  the  saj 
time^  such  a  mind  will  always  find  at  hand  a  Divine  Auxiliary, 
Almighty  Friend,  ever  present,  ever  watchful,  ever  extending  1 
arm  to  protect,  strengthen,  and  give  the  victory.  This  indispc 
sable  aid,  native  good  humour  cannot  claim.  All  its  ultimate  n 
ance  is  fixed  on  this  world.  Its  eye  is  never  hfled  upward ;  I 
fastens  on  earth,  and  time,  for  all  its  resources.  Contentment, 
the  contrary,  while  she  finds  more  sweetness  in  earthly  eojoymi 
than  good  humour  can  ever  find,  and  far  more  effectually  lighu 
the  pressure  of  calamity  by  the  assistance,  which  this  world  p 
aents,  fixes  her  eye  on  the  Heavens  for  superior  aid ;  and  sees  I 
thickest  darkness  of  suffering,  and  even  of  death,  delightfully 
lumined  by  beams  of  Glory,  shining  from  beyond  the  grave ! 


J 


SERMON  CXXX. 

TBlfTH    COmiANOMENT* — CHAZITT* 


I  TwoTHr  vL  n—li^-Charge  Ihem  that  are  rich  in  IhU  warU—lhat  Ouif  da  gptd, 
thai  Ihiy  bt  rich  in  gnod  icorki,  ready  to  ditlrilnitc,  willing  la  ammunicale  ;  Jay- 
ing  up  in  ilort  fir  IhcHuclFei  a  good  foandalion  agaiiat  Iht  lime  la  coma,  thai  iAi^ 
■My /ay  A«U  on  tttrnat  lift. 

J/HERE  are,  as  I  have  heretofore  observed,  two  attributes  of 
the  human  mind,  in  the  indulgence  of  which,  we  especially  dis- 
obey the  Tenth  Command,  viz.  Ambition  and  Avarice.  Content- 
ment is  opposed  to  both,  particularly  to  the  former.  What  in 
modern  times  is  called  Charilv,  that  is,  a  disposition  cheerfully  to 
impart  our  property,  and  kind  oRices  to  the  poor,  and  suffering,  is 
especially  opposed  to  the  latter.  Of  course,  it  naturally  becomes 
the  next  subject  of  our  consideration,  in  our  progress. 

In  examining  it,  I  propose  briefly  to  point  out, 

I.  The  Xature  of  Ihis  duly  ; 

II.  The  Persons,  to  whom;  and, 

III.  The  Manntr,  in  which,  it  is  to  be  performed  ;  and, 

IV.  The  Motives  to  Ihc  performanct, 

J.  I  will  endeavour  to  explain  Ike  Mature  of  this  duty. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  as  a  general  deliniuon- of  Chari- 


ty, as  an  attribute  of  the  human  mind,  thai  il  is  a  disposition  cheer- 
fiilly  to  impart  our  properly,  and  our  kind  offices,  to  the  poor  and 
iuflering.     But  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  every  cheerful  commu- 


nication of  these  benefits  to  persons  of  this  description,  merits  the 
name  of  Charity  in  the  evangelical  sense. 

Persons  often  aid  the  suffering  merely  from  ostentation.  Tbew 
will  not  be  suspected  of  Charity. 

Oihera  do  the  same  thing  merely  to  free  themselves  from  the 
imiJortunate  applications  of  those,  by  whom  it  is  solicited.  This 
will  not  be  mistaken  for  Charily. 

Some,  and  those  not  a  few,  impart  their  property  to  the  distress- 
ed, because  they  place  little  value  upon  property.  Neither  will 
this  be  soberly  considered  as  charitable  conduct. 

Some  perform  charitable  acts  to  free  ihcmsclves  from  those  re- 
proaches of  conscience,  which  they  are  assured  will  follow  the  re- 
lusal  of  such  acts. 

Multitudes  perform  offices  of  this  nature  from  the  hope  of  a9- 
quiriiig  the  esteem  of  others,  and  the  various  benefits  which  it  is 
expected  to  confer. 

Other  multitudes  extend  relief  to  sufferers  from  a  native  spirit 
of  generosity.     This  is  amiable ;  but  is  not  even  an  iAentionat 

Vou  HI.  68 


539  CHABirr.  {SEB. 

performance  of  any  duty,  and  ^to  tberefore  possess  no  evangeli- 
cal character. 

Others  still  do  the  same  things,  under  the  influence  of  constitu- 
tional compassion,  or  native  tenderness.  This  also  is  amiable, 
but  for  the  same  reason  does  not  partake  of  an  evangelical  nature. 

Some  perform  actions  of  this  class,  because  they  have  been 
taught  and  habituated  in  early  life  to  perform  them  as  a  duty. 
Though  they  merit  and  obtain  the  esteem  of  those  around  them, 
yet  they  never  with  the  heart,  or  in  the  evangelical  sense,  perfocn 
any  duty. 

Others  do  works  of  this  nature,  because  they  have  been  accos* 
tomed  to  commend  them  highly,  and  are  thus  compelled  to  charit- 
able exertions,  for  the  sake  of  mamtaining  consistency  of  cha^ 
acter. 

'  Finally ;  Not  a  small  number  pursue  a  charitable  course  of  Gfisy 
because  they  think  actions  of  this  nature  the  sum  and  substance  of 
religion,  and  expect  by  them  to  recommend  themselves  to  the  fa- 
vour of  God,  and  to  obtain  the  blessings  of  a  happy  immortality 
These  men,  whether  aware  of  it  or  not,  are  intenoing  to  purchase 
neaven  by  paying  the  price,  which  they  suppose  to  be  set  upon  it 
in  the  Gospel. 

It  must  undoubtedly  be  admitted,  that,  in  several  of  these  cases, 
that  which  is  actually  done,  is  done  cheerfully,  tfod  that  propeitj 
and  kind  oflSces  are  really  imparted  to  the  distressed  ;  yet  in  none 
of  them,  at  least  in  my  opinion,  is  there  any  degree  of  evangelical 
charity. 

Charity,  in  the  evangelical  sense,  is  no  other  than  the  Benefi- 
cence required  by  the  Gospel,  administered^  with  the  dispositioa 
which  it  requires,  to  a  particular  class  of  mankind,  viz*  those  who 
are,  or  without  this  administration,  would  be,  in  circumstances  of 
distress.  The  disposition,  which  is  here  intended,  is  that  Love 
which  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  the  genuine  source  of  every  other 
duty. 

If  this  account  of  the  subject  be  admitted,  it  must  also  be  con- 
ceded, that  all  acts  of  real  charity  are  performed  from  a  sense  of 
duty,  and  with  an  intention  to  obejrGod  in  the  performance,  and 
that  this  is  indispensable  to  its  very  existence.  It  cannot  theref(»e 
be  the  result  of  "native  tenderness  or  compassion.  No  virtue  is  in 
the  proper  sense  an  exercise  of  any  human  passion.  Virtue,  in 
all  instances,  is  the  energy/  of  the  mind  directed  to  that  which  is  righty 
or,  in  other  words,  agreeable  to  the  will  of  God  and  conducive  to 
the  good  of  the  universe,  because  it  is  believed  to  be  of  this  nature. 
The  native  affections  of  the  mind  are  in  several  instances  amiable, 
and  often  contribute  to  enhance  and  adorn  the  real  exercise  of 
virtue ;  but  in  themselves  they  are  never,  in  the  evangelical  sense, 
virtuous.  That  which  is  done  without  any  sense  of  duty,  and  with- 
out an  intention  to  perform  a  duty,  can  never  sustain  the  character 
of  virtue." 


BEB.  czzx]  CHAimnr.  539 

Further;  It  is  plain,  if  the  ati^  observations  be  admitted,  that 
Charity,  in  the  sense  of  the  Gosp^,  is  disinterested.  The  design, 
in  every  act  which  is  entitled  to  this  name,  is  to  do  real  eoodto 
those  who  are  its  objects.  The  intention  of  the  author  of  it  will 
invariably  be  to  promote  the  happiness,  or  to  relieve  the  distresses 
of  the  sufferer ;  not  to  advance  his  own  reputation,  to  promote  his 
own  selfish  purposes,  nor  even  to  prevent  the  reproaches  of  his 
own  conscience.  In  a  word,  Selfishness,  of  whatever  kind,  and 
in  whatever  form  it  may  exist,  is  not  Charity. 

In  addition  to  these  things,  it  may  be  observed,  that  evangelical 
charity  demands,  essentially,  that  we  take  delight  in  doing  the  good 
which  is  to  be  done.  //  is  more  blessed^  in  the  original,  it  is  mare 
happy  ^  to  give  than  to  receive;  that  is.  It  is  an  employment,  a  char- 
acter, attended  of  course  with  a  higher  degree  of  happiness :  or' 
to  declare  the  same  truth  in  a  more  universal  form  \  It  is  a  happief 
state  to  communicate  good  to  others  j  than  to  gain  it  from  their  hands. 
He,  who  does  not  find  some  degree  of  this  happiness  in  bestowing 
alms  and  other  kindnesses  upon  his  suffering  fellow-creatures,  has 
not  yet  begun  to  be  charitable. 

if.  The  Persons  to  whom  these  offices  of  kindness  are  to  be  per- 
formed^  are  various. 

These  are,  universally,  such  as  already  suffer,  or  have  become 
liable  to,  some  distress ;  to  relieve  or  prevent  which,  the  kind 
offices  included  under  the  name  of  charity,  are  necessary.  It 
will  readily  occur,  that,  within  this  broad  description,  there  must 
be  not  only  many  persons,  but  many  classes  of  persons,  differing 
very  materially  in  their  character  and  circumstances,  and  having 
therefore  very  different  claims  upon  the  kind  offices  of  their  fellow- 
men.  Among  these  are  found  ail  gradations  of  character  and  ox 
suffering. 

The  class,  which  first  obtrudes  itself  upon  the  eye,  is  that  of  the 
common  wandering  Beggars ;  seen  in  every  country,  and  particu- 
larly in  the  streets  of  every  city.     There  are  not  wanting  persons, 
ana  those  of  a  fair  reputation,  who  hold  that  alms  ought  not  to  be 
given  to  this  miserable  class  of  mankiid.     In  their  view,  charity 
administered  to  them  answers  scarcely  any  other  purpose  than  to 
encouraee  idleness,  intemperance,  and  other  vices  to  which  these 
degradea  beings  are  so  generally  addicted.    Whatever  is  done  for 
them,  it  is  observed,  is  ordinarily  useless,  and  worse  than  useless 
to  themselves ;  and  might  always  be  bestowed  on  more  deserving 
objects,  and  with'liappier  effects.     That,  to  a  great  extent,  these 
ODservations  are  just,  cannot  be  questioned.    But  it  may  be  ques- 
tioned, whether  tney  are  capable  of  so  universal  an  application- 
Some  of  these  persons,  and  the  number  is  not  small,  are  unable  to 
labour ;  and  are  yet  without  firiends  or  home.    To  wander,  scemr 
necessary  for  the  preservation  of  their  health,  and  even  of  theis 
lives.    It  is  not  true  of  all  of  them,  that  they  are  vicious,  nor  that 
▼ice  has  been  the  means  of  reducing  them  to  their  present  suffsr 


•  * 


1^  cREunrnr.  '',         j^eb-gxu 

iiigs*  I  know  of  no  evangeliGal  principle,  which  warrants  us  to 
leave  thetn  to  perish,  or  to  refuse  the  proper  means  of  alle?iatiDg 
their  distresses. 

We  pwmanded  you,  says  St  Paul  to  the  Thessalomans,  that  if 
mijf  mwdd  not  work^  ntUhtr  should  ke  iat.  But  it  will  not  be  sap* 
posed,  that  the  Apostle  intended  to  include  in  this  prohibidoo 
those  who  are  unable  to  work,  man^  of  whom  are  found  in  this 
class  of  the  indigent.  To  these,  subsistence,  comforts,  medidoes, 
and  whatever  kind  offices  are  necessary,  cannot  be  denied.  Were 
no  person  suffered  to  wander  in  this  manner,  but  such  as  I  have 
described,  probably  objections  never  would  have  been  started 
against  adnuttins  them  within  the  pale  of  charity. 

As  to  the  really  idle  and  vicious  members,  of  which  almost  tk 
whole  of  this  class  is  apparently  composed,  it  is  in  my  opinioo  the 
duty  of  every  government  to  mce  them,  by  every  yindicable  and 
necessary  measure,  to  labour  for  their  own  subsistence. 

Individaak  are  often  unable  to  distinguish  amone  the  wande^ 
ing  applicants  for  charity,  which  are  proper  objects  of  their  boontj. 
In  this  uncertainty,  it  seems  to  be  a  good  rule  to  relieve  the  dtt- 
tresses  occasioned  by  hunger  and  nakedness,  whenever  we  cannot 
satisfactorily  prove  imposition  on  the  part  of  the  applicant.  Moaej 
is  given  to  such  persons,  when  given  at  all,  without  answering  any 
Tamable  end. 

Concerning  the  administration  of  charity  to  sufferers  of  eveiy 
other  description,  there  will  be  no  dispute. 

Among  these,  those  whom  Providence  has  stationed  in  our  ovn 
neighbourhood  seem,  in  ordinary  cases,  to  have  superior  claims  for 
relief  upon  us  for  three  reasons ;  viz.  that  it  is  in  our  power  to  do 
them  more  good  than  we  can  do  to  others,  because  they  are  withm 
our  reach ;  that  the  poor  who  are  at  a  distance  from  us  will  find 
other  benefactors  in  their  vicinity ;  and  that,  if  we  do  not  take  a 
charitable  care  of  those  who  surround  us,  thev  vnll  ordinarily  be 
without  relief.  It  may  be  generally  said,  tnat  Providence  has 
[^aced  them  under  our  eye  for  the  very  purpose  of  awakening 
our  beneficence  towards  them ;  and  has  thus,  in  a  manner  which 
mav  be  called  express^  required  this  service  at  our  hands. 

A  distinction  ought  to  be  made  amone  these,  on  the  score  of  that 
modesty  which  prevents  some  of  them  m)m  soliciting  benefactions, 
and  even  from  making  known  their  sufferings ;  on  account  of  the 
industry  and  faithfulness,  with  which  some  of  them  labour,  amid 
many  discouragements,  to  supply  their  own  wants;  as  well  as  with 
regard  to  the  uprightness  of  tneir  dispositions  and  the  blame- 
lessness  of  their  lives.  All  these  are  obvious  reconunendations 
to  evangelical  charity.  We  are  to  do  good  unto  all  men  as  we 
have  opportunity,  but  especialhf  to  tkem  who  are  of  the  houiekM 
of  faith.  The  poor  ana  suffering,  who  belong  to  this  household^ 
&ive  the  first  of  all  claims  to  the  good  which  we  are  able  to  do. 
To  reUeve  the  distresses  of  these  men,  when  the  relief  8prin|i 


SEB.  CXXX^  CHAWIY.  ^| 

from  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  is  conduct  so  excellent,  that  as 
Christ  has  eipressly  informed  us,  he  will  remember  and  distinguisk 
It  at  the  linal  day,  and  will  regard  the  chaiity  as  being  administered 
to  Himself. 

Universally,  the  belter  the  character  of  the  sufferer,  the  hi^wr  [ 
will  be  bis  claims  upon  ua  for  our  beneficence.  I 

III.  I  will  now  endeavour  to  point  out  the  Manner  in  which  tim : 
duly  should  be  ptrformtd. 

Concerning  this  subject  I  observe,  j, 

I.  Out  brneficence  should  obviously  be  nich  as  to  annser  iht  tttd,, 
ahich  is  proposed.  I 

The  sufferings  of  this  world  are  almost  endlessly  diversified. 
The  modes  of  administering  charity  ought  plainly  to  be  varied,  bo 
as  to  suit  the  varieties  of  distress.  A  large  proportion  of  the  evils 
of  life  arise  from  want.  The  communication  of  property,  in  some 
decree,  and  form,  or  other,  is  the  proper  means  of  removing  those 
which  belong  to  this  class.  Others  are  derived  from  sickness,  pain, 
disgrace,  the  loss  of  friends,  the  want  of  friends,  the  want  of  en- 
couragement in  the  business  of  life  ;  often  from  the  fact  that  we 
are  strangers;  often  from  unkindness,  contempt, and  contumely, 
often  from  ignorance,  want  of  advice ;  and  from  very  many  other 
sources.  There  are  also  distresses  merely  of  a  moral  nature,  such 
as  spring  from  unhappy  errors  concerning  the  doctrines  and  duties 
of  religion,  from  ignorance  of  the  way  of  salvation,  from  splritnai 
prejudices,  from  stupidity,  from  temptations,  and  universalty  Irom 
sin  in  all  its  forma  and  degrees.  Now  it  is  evident,  that  very  dif- 
ferent modes  of  relief  must  be  applied  to  these  numerous  and  di< 
versified  cases  of  suffering.  That  mode  only  is  of  any  value, 
which  is  fitted  to  accomplish  the  end.  To  employ  ourselves  in 
giving  grave  advice  to  a  person  famishing  with  hunger,  would  be 
not  merely  idle,  but  ludicrous ;  and  to  offer  food  to  a  i>erson  labour- 
ing under  the  pangs  of  a  broken  heart,  would  be  a  specimen  of 
folly  equally  contemptible. 

3.  Our  chanty  should  be  administered  in  such  a  degree  as  actually 
to  accomplish  the  end. 

It  is  not  enough  to  mitigate  a  calamity,  when  it  is  in  our  power 
to  remove  it;  to  assuage  a  disease,  when  we  are  able  to  complete 
the  cure  ;  to  give  advice  or  consolation  to  a  youth  whose  spinis  ai« 
sinking  for  want  of  employment,  when  it  ia  in  our  power  to  put  him 
into  useful  business  -,  to  pity  a  backsliding  Christian,  when  we  arm 
able  to  restore  him  to  hts  duty,  to  pray  for  the  conversion  of  the 
heathen,  when  we  can  send  them  the  Word  of  God  and  mission- 
aries to  preach  it.  Particularly,  it  is  never  enough  to  eipend  our 
benevolence  to  the  distressed  in  talking,  however  wisely,  however 
affectionately,  however  evangelically,  concerning  their  suffering! 
and  the  proper  means  of  reheving  them  ;  or  in  breathing  sighs, 
or  shcdaing  tears,  or  uttering  good  wishes  over  their  distresses. 
ffe  brother  or  titter  be  naked,  or  destilutt  of  daily  ffnd,  and  one  of 


043  GHABITT. 

you  Bay  \mio  f  Aem,  Depart  inpeactj  be  ye  warmed  and  filled  ;  nol- 
withstanding^  ye  give  them  not  those  things  which  are  needful  to 
the  body  ;  what  doth  it  profit  ?  Nothing  is  more  absurd,  nothing  is 
more  contemptible,  than  the  charity  which  evaporates  in  wards 
and  wishes* 

3*  It  is  our  duty^  so  far  as  it  is  in  ourpoaer^  to  relieve  greater  du- 
iresses  in  preference  to  those  which  are  small. 

The  smaller  sufferings  of  those  around  us,  are  by  no  means  to 
be  neglected  ;  and  they  have  this  recommendation  to  our  particu- 
lar attention,  that  we  can  almost  always  relieve  them,  when  such  as 
are  greater  may  demand  efforts  beyond  the  limits  of  our  ability. 
When  this  is  not  the  case,  a  greater  suffering  prefers  a  propor- 
tionally stronger  claim  to  our  charitable  exertions. 

4.  When  we  have  objects  of  charity  in  our  neighbourhood  for  whoH 
relief  we  propose  to  contribute  with  regularity ^  it  is  ordinarily  better 
to  furnish  them  with  a  Considerable  Sum  at  once^  than  to  commtau- 
cate  to  them  the  same  aid  in  a  nun^er  of  smaller  sums* 

Small  sums  are  not  only  of  little  value  in  reality;  but  are  usuat- 
ly  regarded,  especially  by  persons  of  this  class,  aB  being  still  less 
,  yaluaole.  Improvidence  is  almost  alwavs  a  prominent  feature  in 
'  the  character  of  those,  who  permanently  need  charity.  They 
neither  have  a  just  sense  of  the  value  of  property,  nor  just  appre- 
hensions of  the  modes  in  which  it  may  be  laid  out  in  the  best  mao- 
ner.  Little  sums  will  in  their  view  be  incapable  of  answering  any 
important  purpose ;  and  they  rarely  think  of  hoarding  them,  unui 
the  accumulation  shall  become  considerable.  They  will  there- 
fore, usually  expend  them  on  objects  of  small  consequence  even 
*|o  themselves.  On  the  contrary,  if  the  bestower  will  become 
their  treasurer  and  accumulate  for  them,  and  thus  convert  the  shil- 
lings, which  he  might  otherwise  distribute,  into  a  single  benefac- 
tion of  a  guinea ;  they  would  rarely,  probably  never,  break  so 
considerable  a  sum  for  any  of  those  trifling  objects  upon  which  the 
shillings  separatelv  given  would  all  have  oeen  expended. 

It  will  commonly  add  much  to  the  benefit  of  such  a  distribution, 
if  it  should  also  be  made  at  stated  and  expected  times,  so  that  the 
object  of  the  beneficence  might  calculate  beforehand.  In  this 
case  he  would,  on  the  one  hand,  endeavour  to  supply  his  interme- 
diate wants,  and  on  the  other,  would  regularly  nx  upon  an  im- 
portant purpose  for  which  the  expected  benefaction  would  be  laid 
out.  In  this  manner  they  will  learn  to  overcome  their  own  want  of 
economy,  and  acquire  a  degree  of  prudence  in  the  management  of 
their  pecuniaiy  concerns,  to  which  otherwise  they  would  be  stran- 
gers through  life. 

5«  7%e  best  mode  of  communicating  pecuniary  assistance  to  svd 

sufferersy  as  Iiave  sufficient  health  anacapacitUj  is  to  Employ  them> 

By  this  I  intend,  that  we  should  furnish  them  with  such  means 

and  such  directions,  as  may  be  necessary  to  enable  them  to  earn 

80  much  of  their  subsistencei  as  can  be  brought  within  their  radi 


8ER.  CXX3L]  CHARITY  543 

by  their  own  industry*    Most  of  the  poor  would  choose  to  support 
themselves,  if  it  were  in  their  power.    He,  who  puts  it  in  ineir 

Sower,  delivers  them  firom  the  painful  consciousness  of  being  bur- 
ensome  to  others ;  places  them  in  a  degree  of  independence, 
which  is  rationally  pleasant ;  and  in  many  instances,  enables  them 
ultimately  to  earn  more  than  a  mere  subsistence ;  and  thus  teaches 
them  in  the  only  effectual  manner  how  to  provide  for  themselves* 
In  addition  to  all  this,  he  brings  them  within  the  pale  of  character 
and  reputation,  and  renders  them  useful  to  themselves  and  to  man- 
kind. In  this  particular,  men  of  active  and  extensive  business,  are 
furnished  by  Providence  with  peculiar  advantages  for  becoming 
important  benefactors  to  mankind  as  well  as  to  individuals* 

5.  Our  beneficence  is  often  rendered  to  others  mttch  more  usefully 
hy  Personal  Exertions  in  their  behalf  than  by  mere  contribution  of 
money. 

There  are  innumerable  cases  of  suffering,  of  which  property 
cannot  become  the  relief.  Of  this  nature,  are  those  of  sickness, 
pain,  sorrow,  disgrace,  decrepitude,  friendlessness,  the  necessity 
of  countenance,  a  broken  heart,  and  all  that  variety  of  anguish  at 
spirit  which  respects  our  salvation.  In  all  these,  and  in  many 
other  cases,  the  kindness  needed  is  not  pecuniary  bounty,  but  those 
good  offices  which  are  suited  to  the  nature  of  the  suffering.  Very 
LiCLny  pcr??ns,  perhaps  almost  all  those  who  are  in  easy  circum- 
stances, much  more  willingly  contribute  their  property  than  their 
personal  services.  To  give  a  small  sum  of  money,  is  often  con- 
sidered as  an  easy  piece  of  self-denial ;  when  a  personal  effort  i8 
regarded  as  a  senous  sacrifice.  •■ 

but  it  is  to  no  purpose  to  contribute  money  for  the  relief  of  dii»* ' 
tress,  where  we  know  that  it  will  not  produce  the  relief.  The 
duty  demanded  by  our  circumstances,  the  benefit  needed  hj  those 
whom  we  profess  to  befriend,  is  always  that,  of  course,  which  will 
effectuate  relief  for  the  calamity  actually  endured*  Every  thing 
else,  h6re,  is  comparatively  of  no  value* 

Let  it  also  be  remembered,  that  the  benefit  communicated  in 
these  cases,  by  our  good  offices,  is  real,  while  that  intended,  by 
our  bounty,  is  imaginary ;  and  that,  in  proportion  to  the  self-denial 
which  our  kindness  may  demand,  will  be  the  amiableness  and  the 
worth  of  the  disposition  by  which  it  is  rendered.  Even  in  cases 
where  the  relief  of  suffering  is  to  be  accomplished  by  pecuniary 
bounty,  it  will  often  be  true  that  he,  who  in  his  own  person  solicits 
contributions,  is  a  greater  benefactor  than  any  of  tnose  who  fur- 
lush  them,  even  without  supposing  him  to  contribute  at  all* 

But  in  a  great  multitude  of  cases,  some  of  which  have  been  speci- 
fied, property  cannot  be  the  means  of  relief.  Property  cannot  watch 
with  the  sick,  nor  administer  remedies  for  ther  diseases,  nor  heal 
a  wounded  spirit,  nor  comfort  mourners,  nor  restore  resolution  to 
the  discouraged,  nor  withdraw  a  wanderer  from  vice  and  ruin,  nor 
place  his  feet  in  the  way  of  life*    If  we  are  really  cbaritablci  we 


1144  GHAun:.  [aB& 

shall  endeavour  to  do  all  these  and  the  like  kind  offices.  If  vc 
are  unwilling  to  do  them,  it  is  because  we  are  destitute  of  charitj. 

7*  We  are  bound  to  make  this  communication  ofbeneficmet  apart 
of  our  System  of  life. 

When  once  it  is  determined  by  us,  that  the  performance  of  this 
duty  is  one  ^at  end  for  which  we  live,  and  that  a  consideraUe 
part  of  our  tune,  our  labours,  and  our  substance,  is  to  be  empbj- 
ed  in  this  manner,  much  of  our  native  reluctance  to  it  mav  be  re- 
garded as  being  overcome.  Whatever  we  do  habitually,  howerer 
irksome  it  may  be  at  first,  will  in  the  end  be  willingly  done.  At 
first  we  think  of  little  beside  the  difSculties,  which  will  attend  the 
performance.  As  we  proceed,  the  employment  itself  gradually 
oecomes  pleasant ;  ana  we  also  realize  more  and  more  the  varioas 
pleasures  by  which  it  is  attended.  At  the  same  time,  whenerer 
any  conduct  becomes  part  of  our  system  of  action,  as  we  regular- 
ly expect  to  adopt  it,  we  make  a  regular  and  constant  preparation 
for  the  performance.  In  the  present  case,  for  example,  when  it 
has  become  an  habitual  object  to  bestow  upon  the  poor  pecuniary 
bounty ;  we  shall  so  regulate  our  expenses  as  continually  to  be  ia 
possession  of  the  means  of  this  bounty,  and  shall  not  be  unprovid- 
ed, when  the  occasions  for  charity  occur.  If  personal  assistance 
is  the  beneficence  demanded ;  we  shall  so  adjust  our  business,  as 
to  be  able,  without  serious  inconvenience,  to  perform  the  kind  ot 
,  fices  which  this  duty  may  require.  Universally,  of  whatever  na- 
ture the  ^ood  to  be  done  may  be,  we  shall  in  this  case  be  prepa^ 
ed  to  do  It,  and  that  as  a  part  of  the  business  of  life. 

— ^  -On.  the  Contrary,'  he  who  performs  acts  of  charity  onfy  in  a  de- 
sultory and  occasional  manner,  will  find  himself  unready  to  fulfil 
such  of  its  demands  as  he  will  acknowledge  to  be  real  and  obliga- 
torr,  will  halt  between  the  dutv  and  the  sacrifice  which  it  will  cost, 
ara  will  often  persuade  himself  in  opposition  to  the  first  dictates 
of  his  conscience,  that  in  the  existing  case  he  may  be  lawfully 
excused. 

In  addition  to  what  has  been  said,  it  ought  to  be  diligently  re- 
membered, that  we  are  not  made  for  ourselves,  that  we  were  made 
for  the  glory  of  our  Creator  and  the  good  of  our  fellow-creatures, 
and  that  it  is  our  supreme  interest,  as  well  as  our  indispensable 
duty,  to  fulfil  this  exalted  end  of  our  being.  We  are  ever  to  keep 
before  our  eyes,  that  it  is  always  unnecessary  and  usually  unde^ 
able  for  us  to  be  rich ;  that  wnen  in  the  course  of  honest  industry 
we  become  rich,  we  are  peculiarly  obligated  to  do  good,  to  be  rick 
in  good  works,  ready  to  distribute,  willing  to  communicate^  and  that, 
in  this  manner,  we  shall  lay  up  in  store  for  ourselves  a  good  foiui- 
dation  against  the  time  to  come.  Still  further,  we  are  bound  Is 
realize  that  our  property  belongs  to  God,  that  to  us  it  is  a  mere  gift 
of  his  bounty,  that  there  is  no  good  in  it,  unless  we  gratefully  !«• 
joice  in  the  loving-kindness  of  Uic  Giver,  and  do  good  in  our  life, 
and  that  then  only  we  are  entitled  to  enjoy  the  good  of  all  6ar  la* 


ttULCXXX.]  GHABITT.  545 

bour.    Finally,  we  are  to  realize  that  God  is  especially  glorified 
when  good  is  done  to  mankind. 

If  tnese  interesting  considerations  are  continually  kept  in  view 
and  brought  home  to  the  heart,  it  seems  hardly  possible  that  we 
should  not  be  well  prepared  to  perform  all  those  actions,  which  are 
included  under  the  comprehensive  name  of  Charity. 

IV.  Among  the  numeroiu  motives  to  the  performance  of  this  duHf^ 
I  shall  select  the  following. 

1 .  We  shall  preserve  ourselves  from  the  deplorable  passion  ofava* 
rice^ 

Cast  back  your  eyes  for  a  moment  on  the  exhibition  made  of 
this  attribute  in  the  preceding  discourse,  and  tell  me,  Which  of 
you  is  willing  to  subject  himself  to  the  miserable  bondage  of  its 
domination?  Which  of  you  is  willing  to  sustain  the  character,  which 
of  you  to  perform  the  actions,  which  to  receive  the  reward  ?  Can 
any  character  be  more  unfit  for  a  rational  being,  more  odious  or 
more  contemptible  in  itself,  or,  in  proportion  to  its  means,  more 
mischievous  to  mankind  ?  How  emphatically  true  is  it,  that  the 
love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil ;  that  those  who  love  \ijfall  tn- 
to  temptation  and  a  snare^  and  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts 
TBohich  drown  men  in  destruction  and  perdition  ;  that  they  are  seduc- 
ed from  the  faith,  and  pierce  themselves  through,  or,  as  in  the  ori* 
einal,  all  around^  with  many  sorrows !  Let  every  one  of  you  who 
IS  a  child  of  God,  let  every  one  of  you  who  intends  to  become  m 
child  of  God,  flee  these  things,  and  follow  after  righteousness, 
godliness,  faith,  and  love. 

But  nothing  seems  better  fitted  to  prevent,  or  to  root  out,  this.- 
wretched  passion,  than  an  habitual  performance  of  the  duties  of 
charity.  He,  who  accustoms  himself  to  give  freely  and  to  act 
kindly  to  others,  especially  to  the  poor  and  sufiering,  from  whom 
he  can  rationally  hope  for  nothine  again,  can  scarcely  fail  in  the 
end  of  being  willing  to  give,  and  to  give  liberally.  For  a  truly 
charitable  man  to  be  covetous,  is  impossible. 

Let  me  add^  that  in  this  manner  also  we  shall  be  secured  from 
the  imputation  of  avarice.  Nothing  will  sooner  or  more  perfectly 
destroy  a  good  name,  than  this  imputation,  nothing  more  certainly 
awaken  the  hatred  and  the  scorn  of  our  fellow-men,  nothing  more 
certainly  preclude  us  from  any  rational  or  desirable  influence  over 
them. 

3.  By  a  faithful  performance  of  these  duties  j  we  shall  secure  to 
mtrselves  the  Esteem  of  our  fellow-men. 

A  good  nanuj  says  Solomon,  is  better  than  great  riches.  Among 
all  the  things  which  are  done  by  man,  nothing  more  certainly  as- 
fnres  us  of  the  best  reputation,  Uian  a  regular  and  cheerful  per- 
formance of  charitable  offices.  Not  only  go  the  wise  and  gooc|^' 
but  men  of  all  inferior  descriptions,  also,  readily  acknowledge  the 
worth  of  beneficence,  peculiarly  when  administered  to  such  as  are 
in  distress.  Excellence  in  other  forms  is  often  doubted,  denied^ 
Vol.  III.  69 


546  CHABITT.  .   [8EB.CXXL 

disrelished,  and  calumniated.  In  this,  it  seems  «bvays  to  be  le^ 
sjpected.  The  character  acknowledged  is  not  merely  good :  it  is 
tne  best.  The  hardest  heart  acknowledges  its  worth ;  and  tl^ 
most  niggardly  tongue  vibrates  in  its  pmse.  How  often,  when 
the  eye  is  wandering  over  published  accounts,  even  fictitious  ones, 
of  beneficence  admmistercd  to  the  poor  and  friendless,  does  the 
tear  of  tenderness  and  sympathy  start,  and  the  bosom  wann  witk 
pleasure  at  this  display  of  evangelical  excellence !  Whose  voice 
does  not  delight  to  sound  the  praises  of  Howard  ;  and  how  little 
do  nobles,  heroes,  and  princes  appear  at  his  side ! 

In  the  possession  of  such  a  cnaracter,  w^  of  course  acqukea 
happy  influence  over  our  fellow-men;  and  this  influence  is  the  chief 
tneans  of  our  usefulness.  An  indvidual  acting  alone  can  do  little 
towards  promoting  the  well-being  of  his  fellow-men ;  while  the  same 
individual,  by  means  of  extensive  influence,  may  become  an  im- 
portant public  blessine.  Although,  therefore,  reputation,  consid- 
ered merely  as  a  gratincation  of  our  pride,  is  of  little  consequence*, 
its  value,  as  the  means  of  usefulness,  is.  inestimable*  ■  In  this  view, 
a  good  name  is  indeed  rather  to  be  chosen  than  greai  riches^  aid 
loving-favour  tlian  silver  and  gold. 

3.  In  the  performance  of  these  dutiei^w^  insure  to  ourselves  tlu 
approbation  of  our  own  Consciences. 

This  is  always  the  consequence  of  performing  our  duty;  yet 
there  are  some  duties,  from  which  it  springs  in  a  peculiar  deme. 
*  Among  these,  the  administration  of  charity  obviously  holds  a  high 
station.  As  there  is  something  eminently  lovely  in  Deneficence  to 
the  eyes  of  those  who  look  on,  so  it  is  seen  to  be  thus  lovely  by  the 
eye  of  the  benefactor.  It  is  ^  glorious  character  of  God  that  he  is 
good,  that  he  doeth  good,  and  that  his  tender  mercies  are  overall 
his  works.  This  character  we  never  so  directly  and  peculiarly 
resemble,  as  when  we  do  good  with  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel.  Of 
this  resemblance,  and  the  beauty  of  it,  the  mind  is  conscious  of 
course  ;  and  surveying  the  Divine  image  instamped  upon  itself,  be- 
holds its  lustre  and  loveliness  with  a  delight  which  is  independent, 
serene,  and  incomparably  superior  to  every  thing  which  the  world 
is  able  to  give  or  to  take  away. 

4.  It  secures  the  approbation  of  God. 

Concerning  this  truth  there  can  be  no  debate.  Multitudes  indeed 
suppose  nothing  else  to  be  necessary  for  this  purpose  ;  and  seem 
willing  to  consider  it  as  supplying  all  deficiencies  of  rc^pentance, 
faith,  and  love  to  God,  even  when  their  beneficence  is  that  of  the 
hands,  and  not  that  of  the  heart.  This  undoubtedly  is  an  error, 
and  a  very  dangerous  one.  Still  it  is  certain,  that  Evangelical 
beneficence  will  secure  to  us  the  Divine  approbation ;  for  he,  in 
whom  it  is  found,  will  certainly  possess  every  other  evangelical 
attribute.  In  an  eminent  degree,  is  it  obedience  to  very  numerous 
commands  of  die  Gospel ;  and,  in  a  degree  no  less  eminent,  is  it 
ma  object  of  Scriptural  promises.    Blessed  is  he  that  considtrelh  the 


8ER.  CXXX]  CHABrrr.  547 

poor:  the  Lorimll  deliver  him  in  time  of  trouble ;  the  Lord  wUl 
preserve" him^  and  keep  him  alive,  and  he  shall  be  blessed  ipon  the 
earth :  the  Lord  wilt  strengthen  him  tpon  the  bed  of  languishing. 
He  hath  dispersed  ^  he  hath  given  to  the  poorj  his  righteousness  en- 
durethfor  ever. 

5.  It  is  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  character  of  the  Redeemer. 
Jesus  Christ,  saith  St.  Peter,  a  man  wlio  went  about  doing  good. 

How  exact  a  description  is  this  of  our  Saviour's  life !  To  pass 
by  the  divine  doctrines  which  he  taught,  how  entirely  were  all  his 
BliraQles  directed  to  this  single  end !  He  healed  the  sick ;  he  fed 
the  llungiT ;  he  comforted  the  sorrowful ;  cleansed  the  leprous, 
cast  out  devils,  and  restored  soundness  to  the  lame,  sight  to  the 
blind,  hearing  to  the  deaf,  and  life  to  the  dead :  and  still  more 
wonderful  were  his  suflferings.  All  the  contradiction  which  he 
endured  from  sinners,  all  the  agonies  of  the  garden  and  the  cross, 
and  all  the  humiliation  of  the  grave,  he  endured  solely  for  the 
purpose  of  itfcuing  wretched  apostates,  condemned  and  ruined, 
from  final  penfidon.  How  lovely,  how  glorious  a  character!  Mine 
elect,  saith  God  the  Father,  in  whom  my  soul  deliglUeth  ;  mv  beloved 
Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased.  What  Angel  would  not  delight  to 
make  such  a  character  hit  pattern !  What  Christian  would  not 
follow  his  example ! 

6.  //  will  secure  a  Divine  reward. 

It  is  a  iQost  remarkable  fact,  that,  in  our  Saviour's  account  of 
nis  administrations  at  the  final  day,  he  has  founded  his  approbation 
of  sood  men  and  their  everlasting  reward,  upon  their  performance 
of  the  duties  of  charity.  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  wHl  the 
Judge  of  the  quick  and  the  dead  say  to  them  on  his  right  hand, 
inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world  ^  for  I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty^ 
and  ye  gave  me  drink  ;  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in  ;  naked^ 
and  ye  clothed  me;  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me  :  I  was  in  prison^ 
ar^  ve  came  unto  me.  Then  shall  the  righteous  answer  him,  sayings 
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  ; 
naked,  and  clothed  thee;  or  when  saw  we  thee  sicki  and  inprison^ 
and  came  unto  thee  ?  And  the  King  shall  answer  and  say  unto  them^ 
Verily,  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. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  cause,  expressly  assigned  for  the  coih 
demnation  of  the  wicked  at  the  same  awful  day,  is  their  omission 
of  these  very  duties.  How  delightful,  then,  will  it  be,  to  go  from 
diis  world  with  a  consciousness  that  the  duties  of  charity  hfre 
been  all  performed  by  ourselves !  How  melancholy,  howdreadful^ 
to  stand  before  the  Judge  with  a  conviction  that  they  have  all  been 
neglected ! 


SERMON  CXXXI. 


TENTH   COMMANDMENT. ^AYARICK 


1  TiMOTHT  vi.  9, 10. — They,  that  wiU  be  rich,  faU  inio  ten^ialwnf  mti  m  man, 
and  into  many  fooUth  and  hurtful  hutt,  fDhieh  drawn  men  in  desUueiiam 
dition.    For,  the  love  of  money  it  the  root  of  all  m/  ;  yohith  while  jma 
after,  they  have  erred  from  the  faith,  and  pierced  thewuelvee  iAravgk  wiik 
aorrowt. 

In  the  two  preceding  discourses,  I  examined  the  Nature,  and 
Benefits  of  Contentment ;  the  immediate  object  of  Injunction  in  the 
Tenth  Command  :  and  of  Charity;  a  duty  whicb  it  obviously  im- 
plies. The  subject,  which  next  offers  itself  to  consideration,  is  ik 
CovetousnesSj  which  is  the  immediate  object  of  Prohibition  in  this 
precept.  This  I  shall  discuss  under  tne  two  general  heads  o( 
Avarice  and  Ambilion. 

The  former  of  these  shall  occupy  the  present  discourse. 
The  spirit  of  Covetousncss  extends,  indeed,  both  its  views,  and 
desires,  to  the  objects  of  Sensuality,  as  well  as  to  Wealth,  and 
Distinction.  But,  beside  that  these  are  not  commonly  considocd 
as  the  proper  objects  of  covetousncss,  I  have  already  discoursed 
so  extensively  concerning  several  sensual  gratifications,  as  to  ren- 
der it  unnecessary  again  to  bring  them  into  a  particular  examina- 
tion. 

In  the  present  discussion,  it  is  my  design  to  consider, 
1.  The  Folly; 
IL  The  Guilt ;  and, 
III.  The  Mischief  s  ;  of  Avarice. 

All  these  subjects  are  directly  mentioned  in  the  Text.     Of  those, 

"who  will  be  rt'cA,  it  is  said,  that  they  fall  into  many  foolish  lusts. 

These  lusts  are  also  said  to  be  hurtful,  and  to  drown  men  in  cfcilmc- 

tion  and  perdition.     It  is  further  said,  that  the  love  of  money  is  this 

root  of  all  evil.    Some,  who  had  coveted  after  it,  in,  or  before,  the 

<fciys  of  Si.  Paul,  he  declares,  erred,  or  were  seduced,  from  ikt 

j'aith;  and  pierced  themselves  through;  vtspsfesipn,  pierced  them- 

Me,  hes  all  around  ;  wilh  many  sorrows.     Here,  we  find  the  Folly, 

Gi  lilt,  and  Mischiefs,  of  Avarice  asserted  in  the  strongest,  as  well 

as  \  *iie  most  explicit,  terms.    What  is  thus  testified  by  St.  Paul,  the 

com  \mon  sense  of  mankind  has,  in  everv  age  and  country,  attested 

in  th  e  most  ample  manner.    All  nations,  wherever  wealth  has 

exist  ed,  have  declared  Covetousness  to  be  eminently ybo/uA,  shh 

fiil^  a  'nd  mischievofis.    A  stronger  specimen  of  this  testimony  can 


hardly  he  ffiven,  thaa  in  the  appropriatioEi  of  the  name,  MUerj  • 
mretckj  to  tne  avaricious  man. 

The  proofis,  which  I  shall  give,  at  the  present  time,  of  the  Foll^ 
of  ^variety  are  the  following. 

1.  The  pursuits  of  the  Avaricious  Man  are  attended  bjf  manjf  wk^ 
necessary  anxieties^  labours^  and  distresses. 

The  mind  of  an  avaricious  man  is  always  the  seat  of  eager  dt* 
sire.  So  peculiarly  is  this  the  fact,  that  the  words  Covetous  Bsui 
Covetousnessy  although  originally  signifying  any  inordinate  desire^ 
denote  in  common  usage,  when  unoualinea  by  other  phraseology^ 
the  inordinate  desire  of  wealth  ;  ana  are  equivalent  to  the  woraf- 
Avaricious  and  Avarice.  This  feet,  more  strongly  than  any  rea^ 
soning  could,  proves,  that  the  love  of  riches  is,  usually,  in  av 
eminent  degree,  inordinate.  But,  whenever  our  desires  sustaiii 
this  character,  the  mind  becomes  proportionally  anxious.  Our 
attainment  of  the  coveted  object  is,  in  most  cases,  necessarily 
uncertain.  Between  the  fear  of  losing,  and  the  hope  of  acquiring, 
it,  the  mind  is  necessarily  suspended.  As  these  desires  are  conr 
tinually  exerted,  the  suspense  becomes,  of  course,  continual  also. 
A  state  of  suspense  is  always  a  state  of  anxiety.  Here,  the  anxi- 
ety is  regularly  great,  and  distressing ;  because  the  desires  are 
incessant,  eager,  and  sufficiently  strong  to  control  all  the  powers  of 
the  mind. 

But  this  anxiety  is  unnecessarily  suffered.  All  the  prudence 
and  industry,  which  can  be  lawfully  exerted  for  the  acquisition  of 
wealth,  may  be  employed,  and  all  tKo  prGucTtj,  which  can  bt> 
kwfully  acquired,  iHZV  b?  ^IH^ed,  without  the  exercise  o/a^single 
avaricious  feeling,  ana  without  the  sufferance  of  a  single  avaricious 
anxiety.  The  contented  man  often  becomes  rich,  to  every  de* 
sirable  degree,  amid  the  full  possession  of  serenity,  peace,  and 
self-approDation. 

Nor  are  the  Labours  of  the  avaricious  man  of  a  less  unfortunate 
nature.  His  mind  is  continually  strained  with  effort.  The  iftrengdk 
of  his  desires,  goads  him  into  an  unceasing  course  of  contrivances 
to  gratify  them.  His  thirst  for  popefty  dnves  him  to  an  incessant 
formation  of  plans,  by  which  he  nopes  to  acquire  it.  The  fear 
of  lessening  what  he  has  acqohred,  hurries  htm  kito  an  endles^ 
and  wearisome  train  of  exertions,  to  secure  Umself  firom  loss^ 
Thus,  a  course  of  mental  toil  is  voluntarily  assumed  by  bhn,  rcK 
sembling,  not  the  independent  labours  of  a  fireeman,  but  the  drudge^ 
iy  of  a  slave.  The  mind  of  an  old  miser  is  thus  in  a  conttmial 
state  of  travail;  and  struggles  through  life  under  the  pressu^  of 
an  iron  bondage. 

A  mind,  hurried  by  eaeer  schemes  of  effort,  is  always  a  tyraM 
l6  the  body.  Accofdingly,  the  bodily  labours  of  die  miser  coBl- 
mence  before  the  dawn ;  worry  him  through  the  day ;  and  scarcely 
]>ennit  him  to  lie  down  at  night.  A  mere  dray-horse,  he  is  destin* 
ed  lb  a  courde  of  incessant  toil.    The  only  changes  of  Hfe.  to  UH 


^gO  ATABICE.  [SER.  CXXL 

are  from  dragging  loads,  to  bearing  burdens;  and  like  those  of 
the  dray-horse,  tney  are  all  borne,  and  dragged,  for  the  use  o{ 
others. 

To  ibe  pains,  springing  hourly  from  this  unintermitted  toil,  are 
added  the  daily  reproaches  of  conscience  ;  the  sufferings  of  disease, 
and  accident,  to  which  such  a  life  is  peculiarly  exposed  ;  the  con- 
tempt of  those  around  him;  the  denial  of  their  pity  to  his  sufferings; 
and  their  univeirsal  joy  in  his  mortification. 

2.  The  wishes  of  the  avaricious  man  are  followed  by  innunuratk 
Disappointments. 

Tne  property,  which  he  covets,  he  often  foils  to  acquire.  Us 
plans,  although  formed  with  his  utmost  sagacity,  and  with  ex- 
treme care,  are  not  unfrequently  frustrated.  His  debtors  be- 
come bankrupt.  His  hard  bargains  are  avoided.  His  deeds, 
or  other  obligations,  are  defective.  His  agents  are  often  oosidl- 
ful ;  often  unfaithful ;  and,  while  they  are  employed  merely  be- 
cause they  will  serve  him  at  a  cheap  rate,  frequently  make  their 
service  distressingly  expensive,  otorms,  also,  will  blow,  in 
spite  of  his  wishes.  Shelves  will  spread ;  and  rocks  will  stand 
in  the  way  of  his  ships,  as  well  as  m  the  way  of  others.  The 
gain,  which  he  looks  for,  will,  often,  only  appear  to  excite  his 
most  anxious  desires,  and  mock  him  with  the  most  painful  disap- 
pointment. 

Scarcely  less  is  he  wounded,  when  the  gain  in  view  is  partially 
acquired.  The  advantage  of  a  bargain,  the  amount  of  a  crop,  or 
the  profits  of  a  voyage,  are  less  than  his  expectations  have  prooi- 
'  bed.  As  his  calculations  are  all  set  hig.h,  and  made  by  the  JKsiMf 
of  ardent  desire ;  they,  of  course,  overrun  his  success.  But  mod- 
erate success  frustrates  immoderate  desire  Uttle  less  than  absolute 
disappointment. 

Should  we  even  suppose  his  success  to  equal  his  expectations; 
he  will  be  still  disappointed.    He  covets  wealth,  for  the  good, 
which  he  supposes  it  will  confer.    This  good,  is  not  the  supply 
of  his  wants,  the  conmiunication  of  conveniences,  or  the  ministra- 
tion of  luxuries.    Luxuries  and  conveniences,  he  has  not  a  wish  to 
eirjoy ;  and  his  wants  might  be  supplied  by  a  tenth,  a  twentieth, 
or  even  a  hundredth,  part  of  what  he  possesses.     Personal  im- 
,  JMOrtance,  influence,  and  distinction,  constitute,  eminentlv,  the 
\  good,  which  the  miser  expects  from  his  gains.    But  this  object  he 
I  often  fails  to  accomplish ;  and,  in  the  measure  which  he  expects, 
\  always.     Some  of  those  around  him  will,  in  spite  of  both  his  wish- 
^  es,  and  labours,  be  richer  than  himself.     Otners  will  possess  so- 
;  perior  understanding:  and  others  superior  excellence.    Some,  (v 
^^  all,  of  these  will  acquire  more  reputation,  weight,  or  influence, 
than  himself.    Thus  he  is  compelled  to  see  men,  who  are  his  ri- 
vals, whom  he  hates,  or  whom  he  either  dreads  as  being  more, 
or  despises  as  being  less,  rich  than  himself,  raised  above  him  ia 
the  £iiblic  estimation :  while  his  own  mind  is  left  to  the  ranklings 


* 


an.  jcxxxL]  avarice.  551 

of  envy,  and  the  miseries  of  disappobtment.  At  the  same 
time,  oe  is  frequently  stune  by  the  severities  of  well-founded 
censure,  lashed  by  the  hana  of  scorn,  and  set  up  as  a  mark  for 
the  shafts  of  derision.  He  is  also  without  friends ;  without  com- 
miseration ;  without  esteem.  He,  who  would  gain  esteem,  must 
deserve  it.  He,  who  would  have  friends^  must  show  himself 
friendly*  He,  who  would  find  commiseration,  must  conunise- 
rate  others. 

3.  The  Goodj  which  the  avaricious  man  actually  gainSy  is  Vn- 
certain* 

Wealth  is  the  only  good,  which  he  seeks.  If  this,  then,  is  lost ; 
he  loses  his  all.  Nothing  can  be  more  unwise,  than  to  center  all 
our  views,  wishes,  and  labours,  in  uncertain  good.  But  the 
good  of  the  miser  is  eminently  uncertain.  No  trutn  is  more  attest- 
ed by  the  experience  of  man,  than  that  riches  make  to  themselves 
wings  as  an  eagUj  and  fiy  away  towards  heaven.  The  dangers, 
to  which  wealth  is  exposed,  are  innumerable.  The  schemes  of  its 
possessor,  in  spite  of  all  human  sagacity,  will  at  times  prove  abor- 
tive. Flaws  will,  at  times,  be  found  in  the  written  securities,  with 
which  he  attempts  to  guard  his  gains.  The  formation  of  them 
will  often  be  conmiitted  to  unskilful,  because  they  are  cheap, 
hands.  Incompetent,  and  unfaithful,  persons  will,  at  times,  be 
trusted,  because  they  ofier  peculiarly  advantageous  terms.  Hous- 
es, notes,  bonds,  and  deeds  will,  at  times,  be  consumed  by  fire. 
Crops  will  fail.  Cattle  will  die.  Ships  will  be  captured,  or  prov- 
identially lost.  The  owner  and  his  family  will  be  sick.  Debtors 
will  abscond,  or  become  bankrupt ;  and  swindlers  will  run  away 
with  loans,  which,  in  spite  of  avaricious  prudence,  they  have  ob- 
tained. In  every  case  of  such  a  nature,  the  miser's  regrets 
are  throes ;  his  disappointments  are  agonies.  The  instinctive 
language  of  his  heart  is,  Ye  have  taken  away  my  gods  /  and  what 
have  I  more? 

But  Avarice  often  amasses  wealth  for  its  heirs.  Solomon  hated 
all  the  labour^  which  he  had  undergone,  to  acquire  riches,  be- 
cause he  should  leave  them  to  the  man  who  should  come  after  him  ; 
and  knew  not  whether  he  would  be  a  wise  man,  or  a  fooL  .  Tki^ 
uncertainty  attends  every  man,  who  amasses  wealth.  His  des*! 
tined  heir,  or  heirs,  may  be  wise,  and  prudent ;  inclined  to  such 
expenses  only,  as  are  useful ;  and  prepared  to  preserve  their  in*. 
heritance,  undiminished,  for  those  who  shall  come  after  them* 
But  they  may  die  before  they  receive  their  patrimony ;  and  leave 
it  to  the  possession  of  prodigals ;  to  men,  wno  will  expend  it  for 
purposes,  which  the  original  owner  most  abhorred;  and  in  a 
manner  so  rarpid  and  wanton,  as  would,  if  he  were  living,  scarce* 
ly  leave  him  the  possession  of  his  reason.  The  intention  of  all 
men,  who  lay  up  property  for  their  children,  is  unquestionably 
to  do  them  gooa.  How  often  is  this  intention  defeated !  The 
property  accumulated  is  designed  to  make  them  rich.    How  <^ 


1 


«  . 


ten  b  it  the  very  means  of  making  thtjn  poor !  It  is  bequeathed, 
tamake  them  nappy.  How  ofm  is  it  the  cause  of  dieir  nun! 
How  often  is  a  quendid  inheritance  the  source  of  idleness,  pro- 
lusion, neriieenoQii  gambUag,  rash  adventure,  and  speedy  beg- 
gary !  To  narass  one's  self  through  life,  merely  to  prooiole 
uese  miserable  ends,  is  eertaibly,^  if  any  thing  is^  vaniijf  and  vu- 
aiion  ofipirii. 

4.  ITu  avaricums  man  incapacitates  himsdf  to  enjoy  the  urj 
good  which  he  ntks. 

In  order  to  enjoy  any  kind  of  good,  it  is  indispensable,  that  nt 
should  experience  some  degree  of  contentment ;  at  least,  dmug 
the  period  of  enjoyment.    BtU  Ae,  that  loveth  Mvevj  will  never 
be  satisfied  with  silver ;  nor  Ae,  that  loveth  ahundanctj  with  m* 
crease.    The  desire  of  gain  enlarges  faster,  than  the  most  suc- 
cessful and  romantic  acquisitions  ;  and,  were  pounds  to  be  ac« 
cumulated  as  rapidly,  as  the  most  fiaivoured  children  of  fortnne 
multiply  pence ;  the  eager  mind  would  still  overleap  the  limits 
of  its  possessions,  and  oemand  new  additions  to  its  wealth  witk 
accelerated  avidi^.    As  these  desires  increase ;  the  fear,  the  re- 
luctance,  to  enjoy  what  is  accumulated,  are  proportionally  in* 
creased.     The  miser,  instead  of  furnishing  mmself  with  more 
gratifications,  and  enjoying  ihem  more  highly,  as  his  means  of 
mdulgence  are  increased,  lessens  them  in  number  and  degree; 
and  tastes  them  with  a  more  stinted,  parsimonious  relish.    His 
habitation,  his  dress,  his  food,  his  equipage,   all  become  more 
decayed,  mean,  and  miserable,  continually ;   because  he  feeb 
less  and  less  able  to  afford,  first  conveniences,  then  comforts,  and 
then  necessaries.    Alihowh  he  wanteth  nothing  for  his  soul  of 
all  that  he  desireth ;  yet  Ood  giveth  him  the  power  to  eat  thereof. 
A  rich  miser,  who  lives  like  a  beggar,  is  only  a  beggar,  dreaming 
tliit  he  is  rich. 

II.  The  Ouilt  of  Avarice  may  he  illustrated  m  the  follotm^ 
manner. 

1.  7%e  disposition  is  in  itself  grossly  sinful. 

This  truth  the  Scriptures  have  exhibited  with  peculiar  fofce* 
OovetousnesSj  saith  St.  Pauly  is  Idolatry.  Every  person  who  has 
read  his  Bible,  knows  that  idolatry  is  marked  in  the  Scriptures 
as  pre-eminent  sin  ;  as  peculiarly  the  abominable  things  which 
Goa  says,  Mf  soul  hates.  Its  enormity  I  have  illustrated  in  a 
former  discourse.  It  will,  therefore,  he  unnecessary  to  capa- 
tiate  upon  it  here.  I  shall  only  observe,  as  we  are  taught  \jj  St. 
Paul  J  that  no  whoremonger^  nor  unclean  person^  nor  covetous  tmrn, 
who  is  an  idolater,  hath  any  inheritance  in  the  iingdom  of  Ouni, 
and  of  (hd. 

Common  sense  has  long  since  pronounced  the  avaricious  man 
to  be  an  idolateri  in  the  ad&ge,  proverbiallv  used  to  describe  fail 
dmracter ;  that  he  ^  medces  gold  his  god.^^  Plainlv,  he  prefefs 
wealth  to  every  oCtor  object;  and  consecrateb  fan  neartt  ms  td» 


8ER.  CXXZ.]  AVARICE.  553 

ents,  and  his  time,  to  the  single  purpose  of  becoming  rich.  To 
this  object  he  evidently  postpones  the  real  God ;  and  neither  ren- 
ders to  him,  nor,  while  avarice  predominates,  can  render,  his  af- 
fections, or  his  services.  With  such  love  of  the  world,  the  love  of 
the  Father  cannot  be  united*  But  how  sordid,  how  shameful,  how  I 
sinful,  is  it  thus  to  worship  and  serve  a  contemptible  creature  more  \ 
than  the  Creator,  who  is  blessed  for  ever!  Amen.  \ 

By  this  disposition  he,  in  whom  it  dwells,  is  unfitted  for  all  his  , 
duty  to  God.     Our  duty  to  God  is  performed,  if  performed  at  all,  f 
from  that  supreme  love  to  him,  which  is  enjoined  in  the  first,  and  . 
greatest,  command  of  the  Moral  Law.     But  the  heart  of  the  ava-  ' 
ricious  man  cannot  thus  love  God,  because  he  renders  this  love  to 
the  world.     He  cannot  worship  God,  because  he  worships  gold. 
He  cannot  serve  God,  because  he  serves  Mammon.     Thus,  his 
heart  is  alienated  from  his  Maker ;  and  his  life  employed  in  a 
continual  and  gross  impiety. 

2.  Avarice  speedily  destroys  the  tenderness,  both  of  the  Heart,  and 
of  the  Conscience. 

To  be  without  natural  affection  is,  in  the  estimation  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, as  well  as  that  of  common  sense,  to  be  eminently  and  hope- 
lessly sinful.  But  nothing  sooner  hardens  the  native  feelings  of 
the  heart,  than  the  love  of  riches.  Open  to  them,  the  soul  is 
sealed  up  to  every  thing  else  ;  and  bves  nothing  in  comparison 
with  them.  Soon,  and  easily,  it  becomes  callous  to  all  the  ob- 
jects of  tenderness,  and  endearment. ;  forgets  the  neighbour,  the . 
poor,  and  the  distressed ;  and  neglects  even  its  nearest  friends, 
and  relations.  To  such  a  heart,  poverty  petitions,  distress  pleads, 
and  nature  cries  in  vain.  Its  cars  arc  deaf;  its  eyes  blina ;  and 
its  hands  closed.  In  vain  the  unhappy  petitioner  approaches 
with  the  hope  of  finding  relief.  Instead  of  meeting  witn  the  tear 
of  sympathy,  and  the  gentle  voice  of  compassion,  he  is  driven  from 
the  gate  by  the  insults  of  a  slave,  and  the  erowl  of  a  mastiiT. 

With  tenderness  of  feeling,  vanishes,  also,  tenderness  of  con- 
science :  that  inestimable  blessing  to  man  :  the  indispensable  means 
of  piety,  and  salvation.    The  continual  increase  of  the  appetite  for 
wealth,  continually  overcomes  its  remonstrances,  and  gradually 
diminishes  its  power.  Conscience,  often  vanquished,  is  vanquished 
with  ease.   Avarice  accomplishes  this  defeat  every  day,  and  every  . 
hour.  Soon,  therefore,  its  voice,  always  disregarded,  ceases  to  oe 
heard.     Then  Religion  and  duty  plead  with  as  litde  success,  as  . 
friendship  and  sufiering  pleaded  before.    All  the  motives  to  re-  > 
pentance,  faith,  and  obedience,  lose  their  power ;  and  might  with 
equal  efficacy  be  addressed  to  blocks  and  stones. 

To  the  miser,  nothing  is  of  any  value  but  wealth.  But  wealth, 
Conscience  cannotprotfer ;  the  Scriptures  do  not  insure;  God 
does  not  promise.  Therefore  Conscience,  the  Scriptures,  and  God, 
are  of  no  value  to  him.   To  riches,  to  bargains,  to  loans,  to  amass- 

Vol.  III.  70 


ing,  to  preserving,  he  is  alive.    To  reformation,  to  pJely,  lo  salva- 
tion, he  is  dead. 

Tht  life  of  the  avaricious  man  is  an  unceasing  courtt  of  Injui- 
(ice. 

It  is  an  unceasing  coarse  of  Prautt.  Few  such  men  fail  rf 
being  guilty  of  open  dishonesty  :  tbe  natural  and  almost  nee» 
sarj-  consequence  of  a  covetous  disposition.  Should  we  suppose 
him  to  escape  this  iniquity,  and,  fixing  his  standard  of  moraJitr 
as  high  as  any  avaricious  man  knows  how  to  fix  it,  to  make  the  law 
of  (he  land  his  rule  of  righteousness ;  he  will  still  live  a  life  of  fiawL 
His  only  scheme  of  action  is,  uniformly,  to  get  as  much,  as  tlui 
law  will  permit  :  and  it  will  permit,  because  it  cannot  prevent, 
frauds  innumerable.  Every  hard  bargain,  as  I  have  formerly 
observed,  is  a  fraud :  and  the  bargains  of  this  man,  unless  u 
weakness  forbids,  or  Providence  prevents,  are  all  bard.  Bui  bs 
life  is  spent  io  making  such  bargains ;  and  is  therefore  spenl  id 
fraud. 

It  is,  also,  an  unceasing  course  of  oppression.  The  bargains, 
which  I  have  already  specified,  are  not  fraudulent  only  ;  they  an 
cruel.  They  are  made,  in  innumerable  instances,  with  the  poor 
and  sutfering;  and  fill  his  coffers  out  of  the  pittance  of  want,  and 
llje  gleanings  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.  With  an  iron  band, 
he  grasps  the  earnings  of  the  necessitous ;  and  snatches,  and  dt- 
f  our«,  071  the  right  hand,  and  on  the  Itfl. 

In  this  oppression,  Aw  tmn  family  take  their  full  short.  Hii 
coffers,  indeed,  are  rich.  But  himself  and  his  family  are  pot*. 
Often  are  they  denied  even  the  comforts  of  life ;  and,  alirays, 
that  education, land  those  enjoyments,  which  wealth  is  destined 
to  supply.  Their  food  is  mean  and  stinted.  Their  clothes  are  _ 
the  garb  of  poverty.  The  education,  which  they  receive,  is  sm  * 
as  forms  a  menial  character ;  and  fits  them  only  for  a  menial  o 
dilion.  Their  comforts  are  measured  out  to  ihcm,  not  in  streai 
but  in  solitary  drops.  When  they  arc  settled  in  life  ;  the  meai 
of  business  and  enjoyment  are  supplied  to  them  with  SO  pan' 
monlous  a  band,  as  to  cut  them  otl  fi-om  every  useful  plan,  ait 
every  comfortable  expectation.  If  hope  at  any  lime  shines  up( 
them ;  it  shines,  only  to  be  overcast.  By  their  parent,  they  t 
continually  mocked  with  the  cup  of  Tantalus ;  which  they  are  pi 
raitted,  indeed,  to  touch,  but  not  to  taste.  When  he  leaves  d 
world,  and  is. compelled  to  impart  his  possessions  lo  them ;  ll 
find  themselves,  by  a  stinted  education,  and  shrivelled  habits,  n 
dered  wholly  unable  either  to  enjoy  their  wealth  themselves,  a 
make  ii  useful  to  others. 

4.   The  Covetous  man  is  almost  of  course  a  Liar. 

The  great  design  of  the  avaricious  man,  which  fills  bis  bei. 
spreads  through  his  life,  and  controls  all  his  conduct,  is  lo  gel  I 
much  as  he  can ;  at  least,  so  far  as  it  can  be  done  legally,  at 
safely.     This  is  the  utmost  point  of  honesty,  ever  aimed  at  by  | 


SOL.  CXXn.]  AVARICE. 

avaricious  man.  If  ihls  be  attained  ;  such  a  man  always  regards 
himself  as  being  really  honest.  But  in  this  he  is  wonderfully 
deceived.  His  favourite  principle  conducts  him,  regularly,  lo 
unceasing  firaud;  and  regularly  issues  in  a  course  of  lying.  As  it 
is  his  aim  always  to  sell  for  more,  and  buy  for  less,  than  justice 
will  permit ;  he  of  course  represenls  the  value  of  his  own  commod- 
ities lo  be  greater,  and  that  of  his  neighbour's  lo  be  less,  tlian  the 
truth.  As  he  spends  moat  of  his  life  in  buying  and  selline,  or  in 
forming  schemes  to  buy  and  sell,  in  this  manner;  he  em^oys  no 
small  part  of  it  cither  in  actual,  or  intentional,  lying.  To  com- 
pass the  same  object  also,  he  is  equally  tempted  lo  misrepresent 
his  own  circumstances;  the  stale  of  the  markets;  the  quality  and 
quantity,  the  soundness,  weight,  and  measure,  of  the  commodi- 
ties, which  he  sells ;  and,  so  far  as  may  be,  of  those  which  he 
buys.  Thus  the  horse,  the  house,  or  ihe  land,  which  he  is  about 
to  buy,  is,  according  to  his  own  account,  poor,  defective,  and  of 
httle  value.  But  as  soon  he  chooses  to  sell  it,  it  has,  according  to 
his  own  account,  also,  wonderfully  changed  its  nature ;  and  become 
excellent,  free  from  every  defect,  and  of  very  superior  value. 
Yet,  with  this  chain  of  falsehoods  always  hanging  about  his_neek, 
the  miserable  wretch  is  frequently  so  blind,  as  not  lo  mistrust  that 
he  is  a  liar. 

5.  ^2^1  :.'.~se,  and  alt  olhtr,  sins  of  Ihe  avaricious  man,  spttdilt/ be- 
come gross  and  rank  Habits. 

Iknowof  no  disposition,  which  sooner  or  more  effectually  makes 
a  man  blind  to  his  own  characl . . .  than  Avarice.     The  Miser  rare- 
ly, if  ever,  mistrjsts  that  he  is  a  si  ni.er.    He  thinks  himself  only  ai 
nch  man.     He  does  not  dream,  that  he  is  an  oppressor,  aHiar,  and 
a  cheat;  but  merely  supposes  himself  to  bcprosprro'is,  sagacious,       ^ 
and  skilled  in  business.     With  these  views  he  will  naturally  enters 
tain  no  thoughts  of  repentance ;  n  nd  no  suspicion,  ihat  it  is  ueces-     ».  ■ 
sary  for  him.     His  conscience,  it  is  lo  be  remembered,  has,  in  the      ^ 
mean  time,  lost  its  power  to  remtin^'lrate,  and  to  alarm.     His  heart,      V 
also,  is  so  entirely  engrossed  by  schemes  of  accumulating  wealth, 
or  is  rather  so  absolutely  possessed  by  the  demon  of  avarice,  as      ♦ 
to  have  neither  time,  nor  room,  for  the  admission  of  a  thought       I 
concerning  reformation.     He  is  left,  therefore,  to  the  domination        f 
of  this  wretched  appetite ;  and  becomes  fixed,  and  hardened,  in 
all  his  sms,  without  a  check,  and  without  resistance.     There  is, 
probably,  no  more  obdurate  heart,  than  that  of  avarice ;  and  no 
more  hopeless  character.   Every  passage  to  it  appears  to  be  closed 
up,  except  one  ;  and  that  is  opened  only  lo  gain. 

in.  The  Misckitfa  of  Avarice  are  innvmtrabU.  A  few  of  them 
only  can  be  even  mentioned  at  the  present  time.  These  I  shall 
consider  as  Personal,  Private,  and  Public. 

Among  the  Personal  Mischiefs  of  Avarice,  are  lo  be  reckoned 
all  the  nllies,  and  all  the  Sins  which  have  been  already  tipecilied; 
BO  fitr  as  their  influence  terminates  in  the  avaricious  man  himself. 


556  AVARICE.  PESL  CXXXL 

They  are  not  sins  and  follies  only;  they  are  mischiefs  ako;  as 
indeed  is  every  other  sin  and  folly.  As  mischiefs,  their  combiDed 
efiScacy  is  yery  great,  malignant,  and  dreadful ;  such  as  would  be 
deUberately  encountered  by  no  man,  but  a  profligate ;  such  ds 
would  make  a  considerate  man  tremble. 

Ta  these  let  me  add  the  guilt,  and  misery,  of  Di^con/enfm^n/ and 
Envy*  However  fast  the  wealth  of  the  avaricious  man  may  in- 
crease ;  to  whatever  size  the  heaps  may  swell ;  his  accumulatioos 
always  lag  behind  his  wishes.  Indeed,  they  never  keep  pace 
with  what  he  feels  to  be  Aw  due.  In  his  own  view  he  has  a  right 
lobe  rich:  and  he  regards  the  Providence  of  God  as  under t 
species  of  obligation  to  make  him  rich.  To  these  claims,  his 
wishes  furnish  tne  only  limit :  and,  whenever  they  are  not  satisfied; 
as  is  always  the  case,  unless  in  the  moment  of  some  distinguished 
success ;  he  becomes  fretful,  impatient,  and  angry,  at  the  dispensa- 
tions of  Providence.  He  may  not,  indeed,  accuse  God  of  injus- 
tice, face  to  face.  But  he  murmurs  at  His  Providence  under  the 
names  of  fortune j  chance,  luck,  the  state  of  things,  and  the  count  tf 
events.  Against  these,  and  through  these,  against  God,  his  com- 
plaints are  loud,  vehement,  bitter,  full  of  resentment,  and  full  of 
mipiety* 

Amid  the  troubles  derived  from  this  source,  he  cannot  fell, 
whenever  he  looks  around  him,  to  find  some  men  happier,  as  well 
as  more  prosperous,  at  least  in  some  respects,  than  himself.  This 
loan  may  be  richer.  That,  though  inferior  in  wealth,  may  possess 
a  piece  of  land,  a  house,  a  servant,  which,  although  a  darling  ob- 
ject of  his  covetous  desires,  he  m:.y  be  unable  to  obtain.  A  third 
may  have  more  reputation.  A  lourth  may  have  more  influence. 
A  fifth  may  be  better  beloved.  Towards  any,  or  all,  of  these,  his 
.  envy  may  be  directed  with  as  malignant  a  spirit,  as  his  murmuring 
against  God.  It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  of  a  mind  more  wretched, 
or  more  odious,  than  that,  which  makes  itself  miserable  at  the  sight 
of  happiness,  enjoyed  by  others  ;  and  pines  at  the  thought  of  en- 
joyments, which  are  not  its  own.  This  spirit  is  the  vulture  of 
Prometheus,  preying  unceasingly  upon  his  liver ;  which  was  for 
ever  renewed,  that  it  might  be  lor  ever  devoured. 

With  Envy,  Discontentment,  its  twin-sister,  perpetually  dwells. 
The  wretch,  whose  heart  is  the  habitation  of  both,  is  taught,  and 
influenced,  by  them  to  believe,  that  God  is  his  enemy,  because  He 
does  not  administer  to  his  covetousncss ;  and  that  men  are  his  ene- 
mies, because  they  enjoy  the  eood,  which  God  has  given  them. 
Even  happiness  itself,  so  delightful  wherever  it  is  seen,  to  a  be- 
nevolent eye,  is  a  source  oi  anguish  only  to  him,  unless  when 
locked  up  in  his  own  cofiers. 

The  grovelling  and  gross  taste  of  the  miser,  is  in  my  view  also 
eminently  pernicious.  To  be  under  the  government  of  such  a 
taste,  is  plainly  to  be  cut  ofi*  from  all  rich  and  refined  enjoyment. 
.The  miser  endeavours  to  satiate  himself  upon  the  dross  of  happi- 


r 


ness.  But  he  neilher  discerns,  nor  seeks  for  thejlne^o/j.  The 
delicious  viands  pro^cred  lo  intetligcnt  and  immortal  minds  by 
the  bcnclicence  of  God,  are  lost  upon  a  palate  which  can  satiaia 
itself  upon  garbage.  The  delightful  emoltons  of  contentment. 
gratitude,  and  complacency  towards  his  Maker;  the  sweets  of  a 
self-approving  minci;  ihe  charming  fruition  of  tenderness  and  sym- 
pathy ;  the  refined  participation  of  social  good ;  and  the  elevalen 
satisfaction,  which  springs,  instinctively,  from  the  beneficent  pre 
motion  of  that  good  ;  can  never  find  an  entrance  into  the  heart,  al. 
the  avenues  to  which  are  barred  up  by  the  hand  of  Avarice.  Bu. 
to  lose  these  blessings  is  to  lose  infinitely. 

At  the  same  time,  tke  miser  masles  of  course  his  day  of  Probation, 
His  life  is  wholly  occupied  by  the  pursuit  of  wealth.  Of  sin  and 
ruin,  of  holiness  and  Heaven,  he  1ms  not  time  even  to  think.  His 
life  is  too  short  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  main  object.  Suns, 
for  him,  rise  too  late ;  and  set  too  soon.  Too  rapidly  do  his  days 
succeed  each  other ;  and  too  early  do  they  tenninate  their  career. 
His  last  sickness  arrests  him  while  he  is  counting  his  gold  :  and 
death  knocks  at  his  door,  while  he  is  in  the  midst  of  a  gainful 
bargain.  Thus  he  is  hurried,  and  goaded,  through  the  journey  of 
life,  by  his  covetousneas;  and  finds  no  opportunity  to  pause,  and 
think  upon  the  conrctna  o£  his  soul ;  no  moment,  in  which  he  can 
withdraw  his  eye  from  gain,  and  cast  a  look  toward  Heaven.  /( 
is  easier,  saith  our  Saviour,  for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a 
needle,  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

Thus  it  is  evident,  that  thetf,  that  will  be  rich,  fall  into  temptation, 
and  a  snare,  and  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown 
men  in  destruction  and  perdition;  that  (Ae  love  of  money  is  the  root 
of  all  evil ;  and  that  sue  A  as  covet  after  it,  pierce  themselves  through 
with  many  sorrovis. 

The  Private  J^ischiefs  of  Avarice  are  those,  which  affect  tinhappiiy 
the  interests  of  families,  andneiglibourhoods. 

To  these  little  circles,  formed  to  be  happy,  and  actually  the 
scenes  of  the  principal  happiness,  furnished  by  this  world,  the 
miser  is  a  common  nuisance.  To  his  family  he  presents  the  mis- 
erable example  of  covetousness,  fraud,  oppression,  falsehood,  and 
impiety  ;  and  the  most  humiliating  and  distressing  living  picture 
of  an  abandoned  worldling,  forgetting  his  God,  and  forgotten  by 
Him ;  worshipping  gold ;  ever  craving  and  devouring,  but  never 
satisfied ;  denying  himself,  and  his  household,  the  comforts  of  life ; 
and  imparting  to  them  the  necessaries  only  in  crumbs  and  shreds; 
living  a  life  of  perpetual  meanness  and  debasement ;  wasting  the 
day  of  probation ;  treasuring  up  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath  f 
advancing  onward  lo  his  final  account  without  an  eflori,  or  a 
thought,  of  preparation  for  this  tremendous  event :  and  all  thii. 
while  irresistibly  endeared  to  them  by  the  strong  power  of  naturtl 
affection. 


568 


AVABICE. 


[SESLCXXU 


On  tht  neighbourhood  iht  miser  inflicti  the  complicattd,  hann- 
ing,  and  tniense  fBih,  of  continually  reptaled  fraud  and  oppretiigt. 
Wherever  such  a  man  plants  himself,  sufferings  spring  up  all 
wound  him.  To  the  yomig,  the  ignorant,  the  thoughtless,  and 
the  necessitous,  he  lends  money  at  exorbitant  interest,  and  with 
teofold  security.  The  paymcui  he  discourages,  until  the  amouni 
has  become  sufficient  to  enable  htm,  with  a  suit,  to  enclose  liitit 
whole  possessions  in  his  net.  To  the  poor  and  suffering  aUo,  be 
sells,  at  unconscionable  prices,  the  necessaries  of  life.  Note, 
bonds,  and  mortgages,  given  by  persons  of  the  same  description, 
he  buys  at  an  enormous  discount.  Of  estates,  left  intestate,  it 
watchfully  seeks,  and  with  art  and  perseverance  obtains,  the  id- 
ministration.  WiieD  others  arc  obliged  to  buy,  he  sells  :  andwtiea 
others  are  obliged  to  sell,  he  buys.  In  this  manner  his  loans  an 
almost  instantaneously  doubled ;  and  property  mortgaged  to  lum 
for  a  lenth  part  of  its  value,  is  swallowed  up.  "Oie  tsiafti  of 
widows  and  orphans  melt  away  before  his  breath,  as  the  sdqw 
beneath  the  April  sun.  The  possessions  of  all  around  him  mow 
only  towards  his  den.  The  farm  and  the  house,  the  garden  and 
the  cottage,  the  herd  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  widow's  cow  and 
ten  sheep  on  the  other,  go  down  logeilier  into  this  open  sepulciiFe. 
Over  the  miserable  beings,  who  cannot  escape  his  fangs,  hereieu 
with  a  despotic  and  wolnsb  dominion.  All  around  him  tremue 
at  his  nod  :  and,  should  any  one  retain  sufficient  energy  to  quo- 
tton  his  pleasure,  or  dispute  his  control,  he  points  his  eyes  to 
the  jail,  and  hushes  every  murinur  to  silence,  and  every  tDaugbl 
to  despair. 

J^or  does  he  less  injure  SocUly,  although  the  injury  is  ordinari- 
ly less  observed,  as  being  less  felt,  by  corrupting  both  hii  fam^ 
and  his  neighbourhood.  His  example  emboldens,  liis  skill  insinicft 
and  his  success  allures,  those,  who  are  witnesses  of  his  life,  lo 
pursue  the  same  course  of  villany  and  oppression.  All  the  saga- 
cious, sharpen  their  cunning  by  his  practical  lessons.  The  i> 
trepid,  become  daring  by  his  example.  The  greedy  become  lar-  ' 
ennusbyhis  success.  Thus  the  spirit  of  Avarice  is  caught;  id 
vilianies  are  multiplied ;  and  a  poisonous  coin  engraftS  uoqd 
every  stock  in  the  neighbourhood.  His  own  sons,  if  not  broken 
down  by  his  hard-handed  parsimony,  or  Induced  by  their  suffer 
ings  to  detest  it,  and  rush  into  the  opposite  extreme  of  profusion, 
become  proficients  in  all  the  mysteries  of  fraud  and  oppressioa: 
not  instructed,  and  led,  only,  but  drilled,  into  the  eager,  shrewdy 
and  gainful  pursuit  of  wealth.  From  him  they  learn  lo  undErvJu 
all  rules  of  morality,  except  the  law  of  the  land  :  tn  violate  the 
dictatefi  of  compassion  ;  to  burst  the  bonds  of  conscience ;  and  l> 
regard  with  indifference,  and  contempt,  the  Will  of  God.  Jn  \m 
house,  ai  in  a  second  Jftwgale,  young  men  soon  become  old  ii 
villany ;  and  with  a  heart  premature^  hardened  into  stooe,  mi 


¥ 


IIEB.  CXXXl.]  AVARICE,  559 

nands  trained  to  mischief  by  tronsrerred  experience,  are  tamed 
loose  to  prey  upon  the  vitals  of  Society. 

The  Public  Mischiffs  of  Avarice  are  not  less  numerotis ;  and 
*pe  of  incomprehensible  magnitude.     It  was  one  of  the  glorious 
chafacterisiics  of  the  men,  recommended  by  Jctkro  to  JWojm  to  fill 
the  station*  of  Rulers,  that  Ikci/ kaltd  ctvetomness :  a  characteris- 
tic indispensable  to  him,  who  would  rulejuslli/,  and  be  a  minisUr 
(^  God  for  good  to  his  people.    When  Avarice  ascends  the  chair  of 
_    state,  mingles  with  the  councils  of  princes,  seals  herself  on  the 
'  bench  of  justice,  or  lakes  her  place  in  the  chamber  of  legislation ; 
nay,  when  she  takes  possession  of  subordinate  departments,  par- 
ticularly of  those,  which  are  financial,  in  the  aa ministration  of 
,   eovernment ;  her  views  become  extended,  and  her  ravages  terrible. 
I  The  man,  over  whom  she  has  established  her  dominion,  sees,  even 
•in  the  humblest  of  these  stations,  prospects  of  acquiring  wealth 
opening  suddenly  upon  him,  of  which  he  before  never  formed  a 
conception.     In  the  mysterious  collection  of  revenues,  the  mazy 
management  of  taxes,  the  undefined  claims  for  perquisites,  the 
opportunities  of  soliciting  and  receiving  customary  bribes,  and  in 
the  boCindless  eulf  of  naval  and  military  contracts,  he  beholds 
new  means,  and  new  motpves,  fiir  the  exercise  of  all  his  talents, 
fraud  and  rapacity,  and  fur  the  speedy  acquisition  of  opulence, 
crowding  upon  him  at  once.     The  alluring  scene  he  surveys  with 
the  same  spirit  with  which  a  vulture  eyes  the  field  of  blood. 
Every  thing,  on  which  he  can  fasten  his  talons,  here  becomes  his 
I    prey.     The  public  he  cheats  without  compunction :  individuals 
P    ne  oppresses  without  pity.     There  is  sufficient  wealth  in  the  world 
I     to  supply  all  Its  inhabitants  with  comfort.     But  when  some  be- 
^.  come  suddenly,  and  enormously,  rich,  multitudes  must  sink  into 
t    the  lowest  depths  of  poverty.     To  enable  a  single  farmer  of  reve- 
K  Hues,  or  a  single  contractor,  to  lodge  in  a  palace,  to  riot  at  the 
•  table  of  luxury,  and  to  roll  on  wheels  of  splendour,  thousands 
'    have  sweat  blood,  and  wrung  their  hands  in  agony.     But  what  is 
.    all  this  to  him ?    He  is  rich;  whoever  else  may  be  poor.     He 
f    is  fed;  whoever  else  may  starve.    The  frauds  and  ravages  of  pul^ 
I    lie  ag-iits,  which  find  palliation,  co'jntenancc,  and  excuse,  from 
I    the  fail,  that  they  have  become  customary,  constitute  no  small 
,    partoT  that  oppression,  which  has  awakened  the  groans  and  cries 
of  the  liuman  race,  from  the  days  of  J^mrod  to  the  present  hour. 
But  Avarice  is  not  confined  to  subordinate  agents.     Often  it  as- 
I   cends  iKe  throne,  and  graaps  the  sceptre.     The  evils,  of  which  It 
I    is  the  parent  in  this  situation,  ate  fully  ]jroportioned  to  its  power ; 
aod  outrun  the  most  excursive  wanderings  of  imagination.     A 
large  i-.irt  of  the  miseries,  entailed  on  mankind  by  oppressive  tax- 
es at  linine,  and  ruinous  wars  abi-oad,  are  created  by  the  lust  for 
iltindcr.    This  fiend  hurried  the  Spaniard!  to  America ;  and  stung 
i "  hem  into  the  perpetration  of  all  those  cruelties,  which  laid  waste 
'•*  Empires  of  .Mdicoand^tru,     The  same  foul  spirit  steered 


MO 


[SEa.  cnuOTl 


the  alave-ships  oiAmtrka  and  Europe  lo  the  African  shores  -,  ton  I 
from  their  friends,  children,  and  parents,  (en  millions  of  ihe  mhrl 
offending  natives ;  transported  ihem,  in  chains,  across  the  A(ia^ 
tic:  and  hurried  them  to  the  grave  by  oppressive  toil,  tflfflirf, 
and  death.  Every  where,  and  in  every  age,  she  has  n-aslcd  (be 
happiness,  wrung  the  heart,  and  poured  out  the  blood,  of  Biii. 
Relentless  as  death,  and  insatiable  as  the  grave,  she  has  cono^ 
vaWy  opcntd  htr  mouth  wilhoul  measure  i  and  the  glory,  the  viatic 
tude,  and  tht  pomp  o[  ckieSf  stales,  and  cm pircs,  have  descended 
into  the  abyss ! 


r 


END  OF  VOL  DL 


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