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BX,.3IX37— ^113  7-  1034 

Hervey,  James,  1714-1758. 
The  whole  works  of  the  Rev 
James  Hervey,  A.  M. 


The  J«hn  M.  Krcbs  Donation. 


S  (L<^ 


p  IL.^'U 


Ff^. 


THE 


WHOLE  WORKS 


OF 


THE  REV.JAMESHERVEY,  A. 


RECTOR  OF  WESTON-FAVELL,  NORTHAMPTONSHIRE. 


CONTAINING 


MEDITATIONS  AiMONG  THE  TOMBS. — REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER  GARDEN. 

A  DESCANT  UPON  CREATION. 

CONTEMPLATIONS  ON  THE  NIGHT. — CONTEMPLATIONS  ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 

A  WINTER-PIECE. THERON  AND    ASPASIO. 

SERMONS. — MISCELLANEOUS  TRACTS,  AND  LETTERS. 


EDINBURGH : 

THOMAS  NELSON  AND  PP:TER  BROWN. 
1834. 


BUINBURGH  :   PRINTED  BY  A.  BAI.FOUR  AND  CO.    NIDDRY  STRBET 


PI- 


CONTENTS. 


MKDITATIONi  AND  CONTEMPLATIONS. 

Fapre 
The  Author's  Ijifc,  .  .  v 

DeiiirHtioii,  .  .  .      .vv 

Prt-f:ife,  .  .  .  xvi 

MeditMrimi'^  ainorifr  the  Tombs,  1 

Reflections  on  a  Flower-Garden,  2.5 

A  Des^CHHt  uooi)  Creation,  .  51 

Conreinpiati  )Ms  on  the  N'srht,         ,  6.5 

CoTitefnplatioMs  on  the  Starry  Heavens  9fi 
A  Winter-Piece,  .  .  128 

Therofi  and  Aspasio,  or, a  Series  of  Dia- 
logues and  Letters  upon  tlie  most  ini- 
poitant  a.-id  interesting  Suiijecls,  I?-! 

Aspasio  Vindicated,  .  .  ii'D 

Improvement  ot'  the  Doctrine  of  Justifi- 
cation, .  .  .  oGj 
A   Defence  of  Theron  and  Aspasio,       5(i9 
Amendments  of  Tlieron  and  A«pasio,    (ilG 
Mar'^hali  on  Sanctiiication  liecommend- 
ed,                  .              .                  .619 

ser.mons  on  several  important 
subjects. 

Serm. 
I.  &  II.   Many  made  rifjhteous  by  the 

obedience  of  one,  6?,5,  627 

III.  The  mimstry  of  reconciliation,  631 

IV.  The  cross  of  f^lirist  the  Chris- 

637 
643 
6.i3 
664 


tian's  glory, 

V.    The  time  of  ilan^er, 

VI.   The  means  of  safety, 

VII.   The  way  of  holiness, 

Mr.   Romaine's  Sermon  on   Mr 

vey's  death, 


Her- 


6721 


TRACTS  ON  SEVERAL   INTERESTING  j 

SUBJECTS. 

Remarks  on  Lord  Bolingl)roke's  Let- 
ters on  the  Study  and  Use  of  His- 
tory, .  .  .  .687 

Considerations  on  the  prevailing  custom 
of  visiting  on  Sundays,  .         704 


A  Treatise  on  the  Religious  Education 

of  Daughti-rs,  .  .  70S 

Preface  to  Burnham's  Pious  Memor- 
ials, .  .  ,  .  711 
Letter  on  Trail's  AVork«,  .  713 
Promises  to  be  pasted  on  Bibles,  .  714 
Letter  to  Richaid  Nash,  I'^sq.  .  715 
Rules  and  Orders  of  the  Assembly  for 

Christian  Improvement,  717 

Rules  and  Orders  of  a  Religious  Socie- 
ty at  Truro  in  Cornwall,  .        719 
Mints  for  promoting  Religion,  .      723 
Mr.  Hervey's  Preface  to  Jenks's  Medi- 
dations,              .              .          .  724 

A  COLLECTION  OF  RELIGIOUS  LETTERS. 

The  Preface,  containing  some   further 

anecdotes  of  the  Author,  .       729 

Let.   1.    On  human  frailty,  and  the  ex- 
cellency of  virtue,  .        733 

2.  On    the    advantage    of  afflic- 

tions, .  .  734 

3.  On  the   last  day,   pride,  and 

improvement   of  the  com- 
munion,        .  .  73o> 

4.  Reflections  on  the  assizes,       736 

5.  On  Spiritual  instruction  from 

natural  things,  •  736 

6.  Advice  to  one  looking  out  for 

a  trade,  .  .  739 

7.  The  character  and   duty  of  a 

gospel  minister,  .  741 

8.  On  attending  public  worship, 

and  the  tmcerlainty  of  life,  744 

9.  On  the  intercession  of  Christ,  745 

10.  On  the  wonders  of  creation,    745 

11.  Advice  to  new  married  per- 

sons, .  .  746 

12.  On  going  to  a  meeting  of  the 

clergy,  .  .       747 

13.  On  the  prospect  of  plenty,  and 

distance  from  relations,       747 
1 1.    On    preaching  the   fulness  of 

Christ,  .  .       74a 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Let.  1,5.   On  the  vanity  of  life,  .      749 

16.  Thoughts   on    different   sub- 

jects, .  .       749 

17.  On  the  nature  and  danger  of 

worldly  prosperity,  .     750 

18.  On  a  plentiful  harvest,  .  757 

19.  On  the  fulness  and  suitableness 

of  Christ,  .         .        758 

20.  Christ  the  believer's  refuge,    759 

21.  On   publishing   his    Medita- 

tions, .  .  760 

22.  The    advantage    of    religious 

conversation,         .  .    761 

23.  Thoughts   on   some    of    the 

Thirty-nine  Articles,  761 

24.  On  the  personality  and  divini- 

ty of  the  Holy  Ghost  766 

25.  Thoughts  on  some  books         770 

26.  Proofs     of    the    divinity    of 

Christ,  .  .  770 

27.  On  the  Holy  Spirit's  being  the 

object  of  divine  worship,     773 

28.  On  the  imputation  of  Adam's 

first  sin,  .  .        774 

29.  Remarks    on   a    passage    of 

Scripture,  .  .       774 

30.  Plan  of  his  contemplations  on 

the  night;  of  the  study  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  78ti 

31.  Of  promoting    the    spiritual 

improvement   of  infirmary 
patients,  .         .  788 

32.  On  the  same  subject,         .     789 

33.  On  the  death  of  friends,  and  a 

firm  faith,  .  .  789 

34.  His  dislike  of  controversy,       791 

35.  On    publishing    his    Medita- 

tions,        .  .  .792 

36.  On  the  plan  of  a   Christian 

Society,  .  .         792 

37.  On  levity  in  conversation,  and 

attendance  on  public  wor- 
ship,        .             .  .    792 

38.  On  his  Meditations,  .       793 

39.  On   a    poem,    entitled,  The 

Deity,         .         .        .       794 

40.  The     Christian's     duty    and 

triumph,         .  .         794 

41.  Of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  795 

42.  An  instance  of  Christian  deli- 

cacy, 

43.  Sympathy  with  distress, 

44.  A  narrative  of  conjugal  afilic 

tion,  .  . 

45.  The  Bible  to  be  chiefly  stu- 

died, 

46.  Of  sanctified  afilictions, 

47.  On  the  benefit  of  aflSictions, 

48.  Condolence  on  death, 

49.  Of  the  Puritan  doctrine, 

50.  Of  friendship, 

51.  An  hospitable  turn, 
&2,   The  evil  of  adulation. 


Let.  53. 

54. 
55. 

56. 

57. 

38. 

59. 

60. 
61. 
62. 
63. 
64. 

65. 

66. 
67. 

68. 

69. 
70. 
71. 

72. 


73. 


74. 

75. 
76. 

77. 
78. 
79. 

80. 
81. 

82. 

83. 


796 

84. 

796 

85. 

796 

86. 

797 

87. 

797 

88. 

797 

799 

89. 

800 

90. 

800 

91. 

800 

92. 

801 

Christ's  presence  at  the  mar- 
riage of  Cana  vindicated,     801 
Of  acceptance  with  God,         805 
Of  assurance  and  Charity,        805 
On    the    excellency    of    the 

Scriptures,  ,  806 

On  the  Sunday  Thoughts,       809 
Encouragement     to     one    in 

afHiction,         .  .         809 

The  duty  and  encouragement 

of  a  gospel  minister,         .  810 
On  hospitality,         .  .        811 

On  various  subjects,  .       812 

Of  Zimmermannus,  .     813 

His  method  of  catechizing,      814< 
Comfort  under  spiritual   dis- 
tress, .  .         814 
Application  of  salvation    the 

work  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  815 
On  diligence  in  the  ministry,  815 
The  laudable  strife  of  a  Chris- 
tian, .  .  816 
The   Christian  spirit  a   char- 

itable  one,  .         .         816 

Christian  conversation,  &c.      817 
Of  the  mystic  writers,  &c.       817 
Of  self-elevation    and    assur- 
ance .  .  818 
The  comforts  of  Christianity  a 
powerful   motive    to   holi- 
ness,            .             .           818 
Faith  in  a  suffering    Saviour 
the  foundation  of  a  believ- 
er's comfort,               .           819 
A  faithful  minister  to  be  en- 
couraged,                              819 
On  Christian  patience,              820 
On    presenting    his    Medita- 
tions,             .             .         820 
On  miscellaneous  subjects,      820 
On  the  improvement  of  time,  821 
A  caveat  against  desponden- 
cy,            .             .               821 
On  cleaving  to  Christ,         .    822 
A  caveat  against  the   fear  of 

death,  .  .         823 

Comfort  against   the   fear   of 

judgment,  .         •       824 

The    necessity    of    preaching 

Christ,  .  .       825 

On  supply  to  a  poor  Chris- 

tiian,         .  .         .       826 

On  persuasion  of  the  divine 

mercy,  •  .       826 

The  excellency  of  humihty,     827 
On  spiritual  sloth,  .       827 

On  ministerial  disesteem  and 

success,  ,  .     827 

Comfort  against  reproach,         828 
On  various  subjects,  .       828 

The  evil  of  unbelief,  .       828 

The    felicity  of    communion 
with  Christ,         .         .       829 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

'■•■■r-  0?,.  On  miscellaneous  subjects,    S29 
9t.  The    promise    of   God   the 

Christian's  shield,         .     830 
9j.   Deliverance     from     trouble 

matter  of  praise,        .  830 

9G.   Of  Christ  a  vicarious  sacrifice, 

&c.         .         .  .         831 

97.  On  boldness  in  Christ's  cause,  831 

98.  On  Christian  conduct,       .    832 

99.  On  what  is  called  honour,     832 

100.  On  his  father's  distress,         832 

101.  Christian  humility  exempli- 

fied, .  .  833 

102.  Christ  the  foundation  of  the 

Christian's  joy,         .         833 

103.  Reconciliation  to  God  pre- 

vious  to   our   performing 
holy  duties,  .  831 

lOi.   Of  a  companion  for  the  sa- 
crament, .         .       fSfi 
-      10.5.    Of  Taylor  on  Original  Sin,  837 

lOG.    On  the  success  of  books,       838 

107.  On  Marshall  on   Sanctifica- 

tion,  .  .  839 

108.  On  mindingrelision  in  health,  840 

109.  Sympathy  in  affliction,  840 

110.  On  obligations  to  a  friend,    841 

111.  Self-examination  recommend- 

ed, .  .  .        841 

112.  Additions   proposed    to    the 

Remarks  on  Lord  Boii'-ig- 
broke,  .     812 

113.  A  plan  of  Theron  and  Aspa- 

sio,  .  .  84G 

114.  A  criticism  on  Heb.  vi.  2.     847 

115.  On  various  subjects,  .     848 

116.  The  diiliculty  of  commenting 

on  Scripture,  .  849 

117.  On  esteeming  the  Bible,       850 

118.  On  different  subjects,  .  851 

119.  On  ancient  History,  .     851 

120.  Charity    to     be     prudently 

given,  .  .        852 

121.  Of  scriptural  criticism,  8j2 

122.  Of  publishing    Theron  and 

Aspasio,  .  .   853 

123.  On  miscellaneous  subjects,    853 

124.  On  the  same  subject,  854 

125.  On  his  Theron  and  Aspasio,854 

126.  On    a    chronological    manu- 

script,        .  .       855 

127.  On  Hodge's  Elihu,         .       855 

128.  On  Fowler's  Design  of  Chris- 

tianity, .  855 

129.  On  his  Theron  and  Aspasio,  856 

130.  On  different  books,         .       856 

131.  On  his  epistolary  insolvency,857 

132.  Mr.  Walker's  character,  and 

of  the  rules  of  his  religious 
society,         .  .         857 

133.  How  writings  are  successful,  858 
131.  Remarks  on  some  books,  8J8 
135.   On  the  same  subject,  .  859 


Lkt.  136. 

137. 
138. 

139, 
140. 
141. 

112. 

143. 
144, 

145, 
146, 
147. 


148. 
149. 

150. 
151. 

152. 
153. 

154. 

155. 
156. 

157. 

158. 

159. 

160. 
161. 
162. 


163. 
164. 
165. 
166. 


167. 


168. 


169. 
170, 


The  author's  wishes  for  him- 
self, .  .  .        8,59 
Scrijjtural  criticisms,         .     859 
A  specimeti  of  Houbigant's 

criticisms,  .  .  860 
On  the  same  subject,  .  861 
On  his  Theron  and  Aspasio,  863 
Comfort  and  advice   to  two 

malefactors,  ,  863 

Plan    of   a    supplement    to 

Theron  and  Aspasio,  865 
Advice  to  a  physician,  866 

On  the   state    of  the  saints 

after  death,  .  867 

On  various  subjects,         .     868 
Of  Saurin's  sermons,  ,  869 

Burnham's  behaviour  at  his 
death  censured.   The  con- 
version  of  a  libertine,         869 
The  value  of  life,         .  871 

Of  Marshall's  book.  Scrip- 
ture criticisms,  .  872 
On  different  subjects,  873 
On  Christ's  ability  and  wil- 
lingness to  save,  .  873 
How  to  manage  controversy,  874 
A  caution  against  the  fear  of 

man,         ,  875 

Why    many     learned    men 
treat  religion  with  indiffer- 
ence,        .         ,         ,        876 
On  Bogatzky's  Golden  Trea- 
sury, .  .         877 
On    not     remedying     some 
grievances  :  and  instances 
of  plain  dealing  about  reli- 
gious concerns,  .         878 
On     neglecting    to     preach 

Christ,         .  ,  879 

Some  remarks  on  not  preach- 
ing Christ,         .         .       880 
Plan    of    a    supplement    to 

Theron  and  Aspasio,  883 
On  different  subjects,  884 

On  assurance  of  salvation,    885 
A  doctrinal  tenet  censured. 
A     character     of    some 
books,         .  ,  885 

Character  of  some  writings,  886 
On  various  subjects,  .     887 

On  the  same  subject,  .  888 

On  courage  for  the  cause  of 
Christ.       The    benefit   of 
affliction  exemplified,         888 
A  sense  of  the  love  of  Christ 
a  strong  consolation  against 
the  fear  of  death,         .       889 
Unbelief  the  reigning  sin  of 

the  nation,  .  890 

Scriptural  difficulties,  890 

Character  of  Grey's  last  words 
of  David,  .  .891 


CONTENTS. 


Pag-e 
Let.  171.  A  character  of  some  scriptur- 
al poems,  .  S91 

172.  Marshall  defended,  •       892 

173.  Of  improving  time,         .       892 

174.  A  proof  of  a    future     state 

of  happiness.  Luther's 
hymn,  .  .       892 

175.  On  miscellaneous  subjects,    891- 

176.  On  the   Earnest   Invitation. 

A  solemn  prayer  suited  to 
it,         .  .  .    894 

1-77.  Comfort  under  afflictions.  A 
character  and  extract  of 
the  Battle  of  the  Sexes,    898 

17S.   Of    being     courageous     for 

Christ,  .  .     898 

179.  On  different  subjects,         .  899 

180.  The  hope  of  glory  a  strong 

incitement  to  duty,  900 

181.  On  different  subjects,  .  900 

182.  A  caution  against  despair,     901 
.183.  Gospel  doctrine  tends  not  to 

licentiousness.  Character 
of  one  not  fit  for  being  a 
companion,  .  902 

184.  On  giving  a  rose  to  a  lady,    905 

185.  On  different  subjects,  D05 

186.  On  the  same  subject,         .    906 

187.  Advice  to  physicians,  907 

188.  On  different  subjects,  908 

189.  Scripture  criticisms,         .       908 

190.  Thoughts  on  the  Ijetters  on 

Thcron  and  Aspasio,  909 

191.  A  Scripture  criticism,  909 

192.  On  different  subjects,         .  910 


Let.  193.  On  profaning  the  Lord's  day, 
reproof,  different  O[)inions, 
&c.  .  .  '-10 

194.   On  resignation,   and  an    in- 


V\2 
!I12 


tcnr!(.-d  visit, 

195.  On  different  subjects, 

196.  On     JMr.     Wesley's      u::^,; 

dealing. 

197.  On  Mr.  Wesley's  letter, 

198.  On  the  comforts  that  attend 

relij^ion.  .  .        013 

199.  On  Mr.  Wesley's  letter,         913 
20().    The  excellency  of  the  know- 
ledge of  (hi  ist.  .     9!4' 

201.  On  a  week's  preparation  for 

the  sacrament,  .       91-t. 

202.  On  his  answer  to  Mr.  Wes- 

ley, .  .  915 

203.  On  the  Letters  on    Theron 

and  As]ia*io,  .        915 

204.  On  Witherspoon's  Essay,      til'i 

205.  Scri])ture  criticisms,         .      916 

206.  On     Fletcher's    Purple     In- 

land, .  .        nr 

207.  On  Alsop's  Anti-Sozzo,       9:9 

208.  Caution    against    judging  of 

men  s  sl-ites,  .  i;2J 

209.  Gospel   doctrines  known  by 

their  fruits,  .         .       921 

Jacobi  Hervey  de  libro  Jobi  epis- 

tola  ad  Carolum  Thayer,  92.5 
A  translation  of  this  letter,  925 

On    the  death  of    the    Reverend 

Mr.  James   Hervey,         .  928 

Character  of  Mr.  Hervey's  Writ- 
ings, •  ...         923 


.s 


'?\ 


*'  Of  ' 


THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEY. 


A  REGARD  to  eminent  writings,  wliich  dis- ' 
pliiy  genius,  ler.rning,  oitliodoxy,  and  piety, 
iiatunilly  excites  a  desire  to  be  acquainted 
with  the  writer;  and  this  desire  is  the 
stronger,  when  these  vvri tings  are  not  only 
tniJy  excellent  in  themselves,  but  are  mii- 
versally  admired,  eagerly  read  by  good  peo- 
ple of  aJl  denominations,  and  calculated  to 
j)romote  the  best  interests  of  maiij<ind. 
Hence  one  desires  to  know  the  author  in 
private  life,  how  he  spent  his  time,  how  he 
sustained  his  character  as  a  public  teacher 
of  religion,  what  influence  the  doctrines  of 
grace,  which  he  so  warmly  inculcated  on 
others,  had  on  his  own  heart  and  conver- 
sation ;  and  finally,  how  he  closed  the  last 
scene.  Abundant  satisfaction  as  to  iiJl  these 
particulars  will  be  obtxiined  from  the  fol- 
lowing account. 

]Mr.  J.\jiES  Heuvey  was  born  on  Fri- 
day the  '26th  of  Februai-y  1713-14,  at  Hard- 
ingstonc,  a  country  village,  one  mile  from 
IVorthampton,  his  father  being  then  minister 
of  the  jjarish  of  Collingtree,  within  two 
miles  of  Hardingstone.  His  first  instruc- 
tion was  from  his  mother,  who  taught  him 
his  letters,  and  to  read.  Under  her  tuition 
lie  continued  till  he  was  seven  yeais  of  age, 
when  he  was  sent  as  a  day-scholar  to  the  free 
grammar-school  at  Northampton,  of  which 
the  Rev.  Air.  Clarice,  vicar  of  St.  Sepulchre's 
in  the  said  town,  was  at  that  time  master. 

At  this  school  he  remained  till  he  was 
seventeen  years  old,  and  learned  the  Latin 
and  Greek  languages  ;  in  which  his  genius 
and  memory  would  have  enabled  him  to  have 
made  a  much  earlier  progress,  if  it  had  not 
been  prevented  by  his  schoolmaster,  who 
would  not  suffer  him,  or  any  other  of  his 
scholars,  to  learn  faster  than  his  own  son. 
Whilst  Mr.  ilervey  was  at  school,  though 
he  showed  a  remarkable  dexterity  at  the 
innocent  games  usual  among  children,  yet 
he  had  a  i)crfect  indifrerenee  for  the  acqui- 
sitions he  made  by  his  skill  in  the.se  games, 
wiiich  he  i)ractibod  only  for  exercise  and 
amusement. 


In  the  year  1731,  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen,  he  was  sent  by  his  father  to  the  uni- 
versity of  Oxford,  and  entered  of  Lincoln 
college  there,  under  the  tuition  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Hutchins,  now  Doctor,  and  rector  of 
that  college.  He  resided  in  the  university 
seven  years,  and  took  the  degree  of  Bache- 
lor of  Arts.  The  first  two  or  three  years 
were  spent  by  him  with  some  degree  of  in- 
dolence, or  rather  less  application  to  his 
studies  than  he  afterwards  used.  But  in 
\7'3'3,  about  his  nineteenth  yevs,  becoming 
acquainted  with  some  persons  who  began 
to  distinguish  themselves  by  their  serious 
imjiressions  of  religion,  and  their  zeal  for 
the  promotion  of  it,  he  was  engaged  by  their 
influence  in  a  stricter  attachment  both  to 
piety  and  learning.  He  made  himself  mas- 
ter of  Dr.  James  Keill's  Anatomy,  Dr. 
Durham's  Phytico- theology  and  Astro- 
theology,  the  Spectacle  de  la  iVoifj^re  (  Nature 
Displayed)  as  translated  by  Mr.  Humph- 
reys ;  which  last  work  he  read  with  a  pe- 
culiar satisfaction.  Nor  was  he  less  de- 
lighted by  the  Essay  on  Pope's  Odyssey, 
written  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Spence,  now  pre- 
bendary of  Durham  ;  to  which  elegant  and 
judicious  discourse  Mr.  Hervey  often  ac- 
knowledged, that  he  owed  more  of  bis  im- 
jjrovement  in  style  and  composition,  than 
to  any  other  which  he  had  ever  read. 

In  17;J4,  at  the  persuasion  of  a  much 
valued  friend,  he  began  to  learn  the  He- 
brew language  without  any  teacher,  by  the 
Westminster  Grammar  itself:  but  soon 
found  that  Grammar  too  concise  and  diffi- 
cult for  the  instruction  of  a  learner  ;  and 
therefore  then  despaired  of  ever  attaining  a 
competent  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew, 
though  he  afterwards  made  himself  so 
thorough  a  master  of  that  sacred  language. 

It  ajjpears,  from  his  letters  to  his  sister  in 
1703  and  1734,  that  though  he  then  showed 
a  pious  and  serious  turn,  yet  these  letters 
either  speak  a  language  dilierent  from  free 
grace,  for  \vhich  ^^•e  find  he  was  afterwiirde 
so  powerful  an  advocate,  or  at  least,  they 
treat  very  confusedly  of  it.      The  truth  is, 


LIFE    OF     THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEY. 


he  was  tlien  a  stranger  to,  and  had  strong 
preposessions  against,  the  doctrine  of  justi- 
fication by  faith  in  imputed  righteousness  ; 
and  he  acknowledges,  in  a  note  on  his  Des- 
cant upon  Creation,  that  Mr.  Jenks's  excel- 
lent treatise,  entitled.  Submission  to  the 
Righteousness  of  God,  was  the  instrument 
of  removing  his  prejudices,  and  reducing 
him  to  a  better  judgment. 

He  entered  into  holy  orders  as  soon  as 
his  age  and  the  canons  of  the  church  would 
allow  ;  and  though  the  precise  time  of  his 
taking  orders  cannot  be  ascertained,  yet  it 
appems  to  have  been  in  the  end  of  the  year 
1766,  or  beginning  of  1737;  at  least,  it 
appears  from  one  of  his  letters,  that  he  had 
a  curacy  in  the  beginning  of  the  latter  year. 
Whilst  he  was  at  Oxford  he  had  a  small 
exliibition  of  about  L.20  a-year  ;  and,  when 
he  was  ordained,  his  father  pressed  him  very 
much  to  take  some  curacy  in  or  near  Ox- 
ford, and  to  hold  his  exhibition  ;  but  this  he 
would  by  no  means  comply  with,  thinking 
it  an  injustice  to  detain  it  after  he  was  in 
orders,  from  another  person  who  might  more 
want  the  benefit  of  that  provision.  On  his 
leaving  Oxford  in  1736,  he  went  to  his  fa- 
ther, and  became  his  curate.  He  afterwards 
went  to  London ;  and,  after  staying  some 
time  there,  became  curate  at  Dummer.  Here 
he  continued  about  twelve  months  ;  and 
upon  his  leaving  that  curacy,  in  the  year- 
1738,  he  was  invited  and  went  to  Stoke- 
Abbey,  in  Devonshire,  the  seat  of  his  wor- 
thy friend,  the  late  Paul  Orchard,  Esq. 
Here  he  lived  upwards  of  two  years,  in  great 
esteem  and  friendship  with  that  worthy  gen- 
tleman, who  valued  liim  very  much  for  his 
piety.  A  remarkable  proof  of  the  great 
regard  he  had  for  him  on  that  account,  he 
showed  on  the  following  occasion  : — When 
his  eldest  son,  the  present  Paul  Orchard, 
Esq.  to  whom  the  second  volume  of  the 
Meditations  is  dedicated,  was  to  be  baptized, 
he  insisted  that  Mr.  Plervey  should  be  one 
of  his  godfathers,  that  he  might  have  an  eye 
to  his  Christian  education  ;  and  this  he  did 
in  preference  to  many  gentlemen  of  large 
estates  in  the  neighbourliood,  who  would 
have  thought  themselves  honoured  to  have 
stood  sponsors  for  Mr.  Orchard's  son. 

In  the  year- 1740  he  undertook  the  curacy 
of  Blddeford,  fourteen  miles  from  Stoke- 
Abbey,  where  he  lived  gieatly  beloved  by 
his  people.  His  congregation  was  large, 
though  his  stipend  was  small ;  his  friends, 
therefore,  made  a  collection  yearly  for  him, 
which  raised  his  income  to  L.6U  a-yetu',  so 
highly  did  they  esteem  hiin.  At  Biddeford 
he  was  curate  about  two  years  and  a  half; 
and  remained  so  until  there  was  a  new  rec- 
tor of  that  church,  who  dismissed  Mr.  Her- 
vey  from  his  curacy,  against  the  united  re- 
quests of  his  parishioners,  who  offered  to 
maintain  him  at  their  own  expense.     Diu'- 


ing  the  time  that  Mr.  Hervey  lived  in  the 
west,  viz.  from  1738  till  the  latter  end  of 
1743,  his  family  heard  very  little  of  him,  by 
reason  of  the  great  distance  he  was  from 
them  ;  though  he  laboured  diligently  in  the 
service  of  his  Master.  Here  it  was  that  he 
planned  his  Meditations,  and  probably  wrote 
some  part  of  them.  He  says,  in  his  first 
volume  of  Meditations,  tliat  it  was  on  a  ride 
to  Kilkhampton,  in  Cornwall,  that  he  went 
into  the  church,  where  he  lays  the  scene  of 
his  Meditations  among  the  Tombs. 

In  August  1743,  or  thereabouts,  he  re- 
turned from  Biddeford  to  Weston- Favell, 
leaving  behind  him  many  disconsolate 
friends,  and  officiated  as  curate  to  his  fa- 
ther. Here  he  paid  the  greatest  attention 
to  his  duty,  and  faithfully  preached  the  gos- 
pel of  Christ. 

The  first  of  his  writings  which  rai.=ed 
the  attention  of  the  public,  was  his  Medita- 
tions among  the  Tombs,  Rellections  on  a 
Flower-garden,  and  a  Descant  upon  Crea- 
tion, published  in  February  174D-fj'.  Of 
this  kind  of  writing,  we  had  before  an  ex- 
ample from  no  less  a  man  than  the  great 
philosopher  Mr.  Boyle,  in  his  Occasional 
Reflections  on  several  subjects,  written  in 
his  younger  years. 

Mr.  Hervey's  performance  was  so  well 
received  by  the  public,  tliat  it  has  ali-eady 
passed  through  about  twenty  editions  in 
London,  besides  many  surreptitious  ones  in 
Scotland  and  Ireland.  A  second  volume, 
containing  Contemplations  on  the  Night 
and  Starry  Heavens,  and  a  Winter- Piece, 
was  published  in  December  1 747. 

In  June  1750,  his  health  being  much 
impaired  by  his  great  attention  to  duty,  and 
his  family  and  friends  judging  that  tht 
change  of  air  might  be  of  benefit  to  him, 
they  formed  a  design,  which  they  executed, 
of  conveying  him  to  London,  under  a  pre- 
tence of  Lis  riding  a  few  miles  in  a  friend's 
post-chaise,  who  was  going  thither  ;  and  of 
which  he  pleasantly  complains  in  a  letter, 
dated  June  iS,  1750,  to  a  friend,  upon  his 
arrival  there. 

He  staid  in  London  until  April  or  j\Iay 
1752;  during  which  time  he  was  visited 
with  a  severe  sickness,  which  had  well  nigh 
I)Ut  a  period  to  his  life.  But  he  recovered; 
and,  upon  his  father's  death  in  1 752,  he  re- 
turned to  Weston,  where  he  constantly  re- 
sided till  his  death. 

Air.  Hervey  took  his  degree  of  Master  of 
Arts  at  Cambridge  in  1752,  when  he  en- 
tered at  Chu'ehall ;  and  as  he  was  of  suffi- 
cient standing  at  Oxford,  he  staid  only  the 
few  days  required  by  the  statutes  to  perform 
the  university  exercise. 

It  may  be  thought  strange,  that  he  who 
had  refused  to  hold  his  exhibition  at  Ox- 
ford along  with  a  curacy,  should,  upon  his 
father's  death,  accept  of  the  two  liviiij;s  of 


LIFE   OF  THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEV. 


WestoTi-Favcll  and  Collingtree,  atid  hold 
tliem  during  his  lite.  It  was  very  far  from 
IjL'ing  liis  choice,  and  it  was  what  he  had 
for  a  long  time  refused  to  do.  He  was  de- 
tcnnined  against  being  a  [duralist  ;  and  not- 
withstanding his  father  kept  him  at  Oxford, 
\\ith  a  design  tlixit  he  should  take  his  degree 
of  Master  of  Arts,  and  constantly  urged  him 
to  do  it,  yet  he  could  not  be  persuaded  to 
yield  to  such  a  request,  though  he  was  of  a 
sulKcient  standing  to  have  taken  the  same, 
looking  u])on  tliat  step  as  a  qualification  in- 
tended for  his  future  holding  both  his  fa- 
thers livings.  When  his  father  died,  he 
remained  determined  to  have  Weston- Fa  veil 
only  ;  and  this  he  frequently  declared  to  his 
family  and  friends,  and  refused  to  accept  of 
Collingtree,  or  to  qualify  himself  for  the 
same ;  insonuich  that  it  was  in  danger  of 
lapsing  to  the  bishop.  But  at  length, 
through  the  earnest  and  constant  entreaties 
of  his  family,  and  of  his  friends,  who,  un- 
known to  him,  had  sent  to  and  prociued 
from  Oxford  the  necessary  certificates  of 
his  being  a  Bachelor  of  Arts,  in  order  to  his 
taking  his  Master's  degree  at  Cambridge,  he 
was,  after  much  importunity,  prevailed  on  to 
comply  with  their  requests,  hoping  that  he 
might  be  thereby  enabled  to  do  so  much  the 
more  good  :  and,  when  he  waited  upon  Dr. 
Thomas,  the  then  bishop  of  Peterborough, 
for  institution  to  C^ollingtree,  which  was 
near  six  months  after  he  had  been  inducted 
to  Weston-Favcll,  he  said  to  him,  "  I  sup- 
pose your  Lordship  will  be  surprised  to  see 
James  Hervey  come  to  desire  your  Lord- 
ship to  permit  him  to  be  a  jduralist ;  but  I 
assure  you,  I  do  it  to  satisfy  the  repeated 
solicitations  of  my  mother  and  my  sister, 
and  not  to  please  myself." 

In  November  ]75'2  he  published  his  Re- 
marks on  Lord  Bolingbroke's  Letters  on 
the  Study  and  Use  of  Histoiy,  so  far  as 
they  relate  to  the  History  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, and  especially  to  the  case  of  Noah 
denouncing  a  curse  upon  Canaan ;  in  a  Let- 
ter to  a  Lady  of  Quality. 

The  year  following,  having  been  called 
upon  to  preach,  on  the  10th  of  May,  the 
sermon  at  the  visitation  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
John  Browne,  archdeacon  of  Northampton, 
at  All-Sanits'  church  in  that  town,  he  per- 
mitted it,  the  same  year,  for  the  benefit  of 
a  poor  diseased  child,  to  be  printed,  under 
the  title  of  The  Cross  of  Christ,  the  ('hrist- 
ian's  Glory.  He  had  ])reached  before  this 
another  semion  at  the  same  (;hurch,  which 
lie  liad  been  solicited  to  print,  but  could  not 
then  be  prev;iiled  upon  to  do  it.  Since  his 
death,  it  has  been  published  under  the  title 
of  the  Mystery  of  Reconciliation,  &c. 

The  same  year  he  WTote  a  recommenda- 
tory preface  to  Burnham's  Pious  Memorial, 
or  the  Power  of  Religion  on  the  Mind  in 
Sickness  and  in  Death ;  exemplified  by  the 


experience  of  many  eminent  persons  at  those 
important  seasons. 

His  Thcron  and  Aspasio,  published  in 
January  1755,  in  three  volumes  octavo,  met 
with  the  same  approbation  from  the  public 
as  his  Meditations ;  and  the  demand  for 
tliis  work  likewise  was  veiy  uncommon,  it 
having  passed  through  tliree  editions  in  one 
year. 

In  1756,  Mr.  Hervey  being  informed  of 
the  design  of  reprinting  the  Gospel  Mystery 
of  Sanctification,  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Walter 
Marshall,  and  of  prefixing  to  it,  by  way  of 
recommendation,  what  he  had  said  in  its 
favour  in  Theron  and  Aspasio,  he  wrote  a 
letter,  dated  Nov.  5,  1756,  to  his  bookseller, 
giving  his  consent,  ajid  enlarging  on  that 
recommendation.  This  he  did  the  more 
readily,  as  Mr.  Marshall's  book  might  (lor 
so  he  has  declared)  be  looked  upon  as  no 
improper  supplement  to  the  dialogues  and 
letters  contained  in  Theron  and  Aspasio. 

His  Theron  and  Aspasio  was  attacked 
by  several  writers,  particularly  by  Mr.  Ro- 
bert Sandeman,  a  congregational  preacher 
at  Edinburgh,  in  a  book  entitled  Letters  on 
Theron  and  Aspasio  ;  wherein  the  doctrine 
of  the  gospel,  under  the  title  of  the  popular 
doctrine,  is  most  abominably  misrepresent- 
ed, and  its  tendency  aspersed.  The  Armi- 
nians,  too,  objected  to  that  work ;  and  Mr. 
.lohn  Wesley  in  particular  wrote  against  it. 
Mr.  Cudworth  wrote  a  defence  of  Theron 
and  Aspasio;  and  iMr.  David  Wilson,  mi- 
nister of  the  Scots  congregation  in  Bow 
Lane,  London,  published  a  book,  entitled 
Palsemon's  Creed  Reviewed,  &c.,  in  which 
he  vindicates  Mr.  Hervey's  doctrine,  and 
exposes  that  of  Mr.  Sandeman. 

Mr.  Hervey's  own  defence  of  Theron 
and  Aspasio  against  the  objections  of  Mr. 
John  Wesley,  was  transcribed  fair  for  the 
pre^s  from  his  short-hand  copy,  within  a  few 
pages  ;  and  would  have  been  published  in 
a  volume  of  the  same  size  with  Theion 
and  Aspasio,  had  he  lived  a  few  weeks 
longer.  The  manuscript  was  left  in  the 
possession  of  his  brother,  ]\Ir.  AVilliam 
Hervey,  wine  merchant  in  Miles'  Lane, 
London  ;  who  ])ublislied  it  in  1766,  for  the 
reasons  given  by  him  in  a  preface  prefixed 
to  it. 

In  August  1757,  Mr.  Hervey  obliged 
the  public  with  three  sermons,  preached  by 
him  on  the  late  public  fast-days  ;  to  which, 
in  the  third  edition,  in  1759,  were  added 
his  visitation  sermon,  j)reached  in  1753,  his 
posthumous  sermon  on  the  ministry  of  re- 
conciliation, and  his  considerations  on  the 
prevailing  custom  of  visiting  on  Sundays. 
In  a  posterior  edition  of  these,  were  given 
his  remarks  on  Lord  Bolingbroke's  letters, 
and  a  treatise  on  the  religious  education  of 
daughters. 

In  the  same  year,  likewise,  he  publisfaed 


LIFE  OF  THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEY. 


a  new  edition  of  liis  favourite  author,  Mr. 
Jenks'slMeditations,  in  two  volumes  octavo  ; 
to  wliich  be  wrote  a  very  strong  recommen- 
datory preface,  showing  the  use  of  those 
meditations,  and  tlie  reasons  for  suchi  re- 
publication.* 

He  intended  to  have  wrote  a  treatise  on 
gospel  holiness,  as  a  supplement  to  Theron 
and  Aspasio,  and  actually  wrote  a  very  ex- 
cellent and  judicious  plan  of  it,  which  he 
communicated  in  letters  to  some  of  Lis  cor- 
respondents ;  but  he  did  not  live  to  finish 
it,  to  the  very  great  loss  of  the  public. 

His  labours  both  in  his  ministerial  ofhce 
and  in  his  study,  were  pursued  by  him  as 
long  as  possible,  under  the  disadvantage  of 
a  very  weak  constitution  of  body ;  which, 
together  with  the  severity  of  his  last  illness, 
he  supported  not  oidy  with  incredible  pa- 
tience, but  without  a  single  expression  of 
peevishness.  That  illness  had  long  been 
coming  on  him,  but  greatly  increased  in  the 
beginning  of  October  1738,  and  grew  very 
formidable  in  the  December  following.  For, 
on  Sabbath  the  third  of  that  month,  in  the 
evening,  after  prayer  in  his  family,  he  seemed 
to  be  arrested  by  the  messenger  of  death  ; 
go  that  the  united  assistance  of  his  sister 
and  sen'ant  with  dilhculty  enabled  him  to 
get  up  stairs  into  his  room,  from  whence  he 
never  came  down.  His  illness  gaining 
ground  every  day,  he  soon  became  sensible 
that  his  end  was  approaching.  He  had 
frequent  and  violent  returns  of  the  cram]), 
which  gave  him  most  acute  pain.  He  had 
likewise  a  hectic  cough,  which  afflicted  him 
so  grievously  in  the  night,  that  he  could 
seldom  lie  in  bed  till  fourf  m  the  morning  ; 
and  was  often  obliged  to  rise  at  two,  espe- 
cially as  opium  (how  much  soever  guarded 
by  other  medicines)  would  not  agree  with 
him.  On  the  15th  oSthat  month  he  com- 
plained of  a  pain  in  his  side  ;  for  Wuich.  at 
his  own  desire,  he  was  bled,  though  his 
physician.  Dr.  Stonehouse,  in  whom  he 
placed  the  greatest  confidence,  had  objected 
to  it,  apprehending  him  too  weak  to  bear 
any  evacuation  of  that  kind.  When  the 
surgeon  came,  he  could  scarcely  perceive 
any  pulsation,  and  tliercfore  took  away  no 
more  than  four  ounces  of  blood  ;  intimating 
to  his  relations  and  friends,  that  the  case 
was  desperate,  and  that  he  had  blooded  him 
very  unwillingly,  and  merely  to  satisfy  Mr- 
Hervey's  desire,  who  had  some  hope  that 
the  pain  might  ])ossibly  be  relieved  by  it. 
His  curate,  the  llev.  Rlr.  Abraham  Ttlad- 
dock,  being  much  with  him  in  the  afternoon 
of  that  day,   Mr.  Hervey  spoke  to  him  in 

«  This  Preface,  with  that  to  Burnham's  Pious  ^ie- 
morials,  his  letter  to  the  iii'hiisher  of  Jlarshall  on 
Sanctification,  one  to  the  publisher  of  Mr.  Traill's 
works,  &r.  are  ajinexed  to  his  tracts  in  this  edition. 

\  When  Mr.  Hervey  was  in  tolerable  health,  he 
rarely  lay  in  bed  after  six,  evn  m  the  winter;  auil 
rose  itill  earjitr  in  the  summer. 


strong  and  pathetic  terms  of  his  assumnfe 
of  faith,  and  of  the  great  love  of  God  in 
Christ.  "  Oh  !"  said  he,  "what  has  Christ, 
how  mucli  has  Christ  done  for  me  ;  and 
how  little  have  I  done  for  so  loving  a  Sa- 
viom- !  If  I  preached  even  once  a-week,  it 
was  at  last  a  burden  to  me.  I  have  not 
visited  the  people  of  my  parish  as  I  ought 
to  have  done,  and  thus  pleached,  as  it  were, 
from  house  to  house.  I  have  not  taken 
every  opportunity  of  speaking  for  Christ." 

These  expressions  being  accompanied 
with  tears,  which  were  too  visible  not  to  be 
observed  ;  and  lest  his  tears  should  be  mis- 
interpreted, as  they  had  been  conversing 
about  his  expected  end,  and  of  his  assurance 
of  happiness,  he  jjroceeded  thus  :  "  Do  not 
think  that  I  am  afraid  to  die.  I  assure  yoxi 
I  am  not.  I  know  what  my  Saviour  hath 
done  for  me,  and  I  wish  to  be  gone.  But 
I  wonder  and  lament  to  think  of  tlie  love  of 
Christ  in  doing  so  much  for  me  ;  ar.d  how 
little  I  have  done  for  him."  And  in  an- 
other conversation,  discoursing  likewise  of 
his  approaching  dissolution,  which  be  did 
v.-itli  the  utmost  calmness  and  serenity;  and 
of  the  little  which  we  know  of  Goo's  word, 
he  said,  "  Plow  many  precious  texts  are  there 
big  with  the  most  rich  truths  of  Christ, 
vi'hicli  'ive  cannot  comprehend,  which  vre 
know  nothing  of;  and  of  those  we  do  know, 
how  few  uo  we  remember  !  Bunvs  textua- 
riuis  est  bonus  the.u!o<ius — a  good  textuaiy  is  a 
good  divine ;  cuid  that  is  the  armour,  the 
word  of  God  is  tlie  sword.  Those  texts 
are  the  weapons  which  I  must  use  when  that 
subtle  spirit,  that  lU'ch  adversary  of  mankind, 
comes  to  tempt  and  sift  me  in  my  last  con- 
flict. Surely  I  had  need  be  well  provided 
with  these  weapons  ;  I  had  need  have  my 
quiver  full  of  them,  to  answer  Satan  with 
texts  out  of  the  word  of  God,  when  he  as- 
saults me.  Thus  did  Christ  when  be  was 
tempted  in  the  wilderness." 

On  the  ISth  the  pains  of  his  body  abated, 
and  he  grew  drowsy  and  lethargic  ;  but,  in 
the  night  following,  his  immediate  death 
was  apprehended. 

The  next  day,  the  iOth,  he  was  visited  by 
Dr.  Stonehouse,  wiio  declared,  that  in  his 
opinion  Mr.  Hervey  could  not  live  above 
three  or  four  days  ;  and  happening  to  spe;ik 
of  the  many  consolations  through  Christ 
which  a  good  n.;;n  enjoys  in  the  prospect 
of  death,  and  discoursing  on  the  emptiness 
of  worldly  honour  to  an  immortal,  and  on 
the  unprofitableness  of  riches  to  the  irreli- 
gious, Mr.  Hervey  replied,  "  True,  doctor, 
true,  the  oidy  valuable  treasures  are  in  hciu 
ven.  V/iiat  would  it  avail  me  now  to  lie 
archbishop  of  Canterbury?  l/isease  would 
show  no  respect  to  my  mitre.   That  prelate* 

*  The  '..tte  Ur.  Thomson  Seeker,  who  died  .\iigabt 
.1,  irtia. 


LIFE   OF  THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEY. 


is  not  only  voiy  great,  but,  I  am  told, 
he  has  religion  really  at  heart.  Yet,  it  is 
godliness,  and  not  grandeur,  tliat  will  avail 
him  hereai'ter.  The  pos])el  is  oflered  to 
me,  a  poor  country  i)arson.  the  same  as  to 
his  Grace.  Christ  makes  no  dillerence 
betweeen  us.  Oh  !  why  then  do  ministers 
thus  neglect  the  charge  of  so  kind  a  Saviour, 
fav\n  upon  the  great,  and  hunt  after  worldly 
preferments  with  so  much  eagerness,  to  the 
disgrace  of  our  order?  These,  these  are 
the  things,  doctor,  and  not  our  poverty  or 
obscurity,  whicli  render  the  cleigy  so  justly 
contemptible  to  the  woiidliiig-;.  No  wonder 
the  service  of  our  church,  grieved  I  am  to 
say  it,  is  become  such  a  formal  lifeless 
thing,  since  it  is,  alas!  too  generally  executed 
by  persons  dead  to  godliness  in  all  theii- 
conversation  ;  whose  indifrereiice  to  reli- 
gion, and  worldly-minded  behaviour,  pro- 
claim the  little  I'egard  tliey  j)ay  to  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Lord  who  bought  them." 

When  the  Doctor  was  going  away,  Mr. 
riervey,  with  great  tenderiiess,  observed  to 
him,  that  as  not  long  ago  he  had  a  danger- 
ous fall  from  his  horse,  by  which  he  was 
much  bruised,  and  as  he  had  been  lately  ill, 
and  then  looked  very  pale,  he  hoped  he 
would  think  on  these  narrow  escapes,  so 
often  fatal  to  others,  as  a  kind  of  warning 
froi'.i  God  to  him,  and  roineniber  theiri  as 
such;  adding,  "How  careful  ought  we  to 
be  to  improve  those  years  which  remain, 
at  a  time  of  life  when  but  few  can  remain 
for  us  !" 

The  day  before  his  death,  Sir.  Hervey 
went  a  few  steps  across  his  room  ;  but  im- 
mediately finding  his  strength  failing  him, 
he  sunk  rather  then  fell  dnw  n,  his  i'all  being 
broken  by  his  sister,  who,  observing  his 
weakness,  ran  and  caught  him  :  but  he 
fainted  away,  and  was  in  all  appearance 
dead,  it  being  a  considerable  time  before  any 
pulse  could  be  jierceived.  When  he  came 
to  himself,  his  brother,  Mr.  William  Her- 
vey, who  was  come  from  London  to  visit 
him,  said,  "  We  were  afraid  you  was  gone." 
He  answered,  "  I  wish  1  had."  And  well 
he  might  wish  so,  for  his  strength  was  quite 
exhausted,  his  body  extremely  emaciated, 
and  his  bones  so  sore,  that  he  could  not  bear 
any  one  to  touch  him,  when  it  v>as  necessary 
to  move  him  about.  Yet,  imder  all  this 
calamity,  he  was  ever  praising  God  for  his 
mercies,  and  ibr  enduing  liim  with  patience. 

On  the  25th  (( 'iuislmas-day,)  on  which 
he  died,  Mr.  Maddock  paying  him  his 
morning  visit,  Mr.  Hervey  lifted  up  his 
head,  and  opened  his  eyes,  as  he  sat  in  his 
easy-chair,  (for  he  could  not  lie  in  bed.)  to 
see  who  it  was,  and  said,  "  Sir,  I  cannot 
talk  with  you."  He  complained  much  all 
this  day  of  a  great  inward  contlict  which  he 
had,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  and 
s.iyir.g,    "  Oh  !    you  know  not  how  great  a 


conflict  I  have."  During  this  he  almost 
constantly  lifted  up  his  eyes  towards  heaven, 
with  his  hands  clasped  together  in  a  jiraying 
foiin,  and  said  two  or  three  times,  "  When 
this  great  contlict  is  over,  then — "  but  said 
no  more ;  though  it  M'as  understood  he 
meant  that  then — he  should  go  to  rest. 

Dr.  Stonehouse  came  to  him  aboiit  three 
hours  before  he  expired.  Mr.  Hervey  urged 
strongly  and  affectionately  to  the  Doctor 
the  importance  and  care  of  his  everlasting 
concerns,  as  here  is  no  abiding  place  ;  and 
entreated  him  not  to  be  overcharged  with 
the  cares  of  this  life,  but  to  attend,  amidst 
the  multiplicity  of  his  business,  to  •'  the  one 
thing  needful:" 

Which  done,  the  poorest  can  no  wants  endure. 
And  which  not  done,  the  richest  must  be  poor.* 

I'OPE. 

The  Doctor  seeing  the  great  difficulty 
and  pain  with  which  he  spoke,  (for  he  was 
almost  suflocated  with  phlegm  and  frequent 
vomitings,)  and  finding  by  his  i)ulse  that 
the  pangs  of  death  v.-ere  then  coming  oit, 
desired  that  he  would  spare  himself.  "  No," 
said  he,  "  Doctor,  no.  You  tell  me  I  have 
but  a  few  moments  to  live;  oh!  let  me 
spend  them  in  adoriiigour  great  Redeemer." 
He  then  repeated  the  '2Gth  verse  of  Psalm 
Ixxiii.  "  Though  my  llesh  and  my  heart  fail 
me,  yet  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart,  and 
my  portion  for  ever;"  and  he  expatiated  in 
a  most  striking  manner  on  these  words  of 
Paul,  1  Cor.  iii.  22,  23,  "  All  things  a:-e 
yours;  life  and  death,  for  ye  are  Christ's." 
"  Here,"  says  ye,  "is  the  treasure  of  a  Chris- 
tian. Death  is  reckoned  among  this  inven- 
tory ;  and  a  noble  treasure  it  is.  How 
thankful  am  I  for  death,  as  it  is  the  passage 
through  which  I  ])ass  to  the  Lord  and  Giver 
of  eternal  life  ;  and  as  it  frees  me  from  all 
the  misery  you  now  see  me  endure  as  long 
as  God  thinks  fit !  for  1  knov,'  he  will  by  and 
by,  in  his  own  good  time,  dismiss  me  from  the 
body.  These  light  afiiictions  are  but  for  a 
moment,  and  then  comesan  eternal  weight  of 
glory! — Oh!  welcome,  welcome  duath  I 
'i'hou  mayest  well  be  reckoned  among  the 
treasures  of  the  Christian.  To  live  is 
Christ,  but  to  die  is  gain."  After  which, 
as  the  Doctor  was  taking  his  final  le.ive  of 
him,  Mr.  Hervey  exj)ressed  great  gratitude 
for  his  visits,  though  it  had  b;en  long  out 
of  the  power  of  medicines  to  cure  him.  He 
then  paused  a  little,  and  with  great  serenity 
and  sweetness  in  his  countenance,  though 
the  pangs  of  death  were  upon  him,  being 
raised  a  little  ui  his  chair,  repeated  those 
words,  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant 
depart  in  peace,  according  to  thy"  most  holy 
and  comfortable  "  word,  for  mine  eyes  have 


*■  Mr.  Hervey  vised  frequently  torepcatthoselir.es 
with  such  an  emphasis,  and  sigiiificant  lock,  as  con- 
veyed their  important  meaning  in  a  manner  not  easil» 
to  be  ibrgot. 


LIFE  OF  THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEY. 


seen  tliy  precious  salvation."  "  Here,  Doc- 
tor, is  my  cordial  !  What  are  all  the  cor- 
dials given  to  support  the  dying,  in  compa- 
rison of  that  which  arises  from  the  promises 
of  salvation  by  Christ  ?  This,  this  supports 
me."  About  three  o'clock  he  said,  "  The 
great  conflict  is  over.  Now  all  is  done." 
After  which  he  scarce  spoke  any  other 
words  intelligibly,  except  now  and  then 
"precious  salvation!" 

During  the  last  hour  he  said  nothing,  but 
leaned  his  head  against  the  side  of  an  easy 
chair,  and  without  a  sigh,  groan,  struggle,  or 
the  least  emotion  in  the  world,  he  shut  his 
eyes,  and  died,  between  four  and  five  in  the 
afternoon,  on  Chrismas  day,  1758,  in  the 
forty-fifth  year  of  his  age.  God  grant  that 
we  may  all  live  the  life,  and  die  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  and  that  our  last  end  may 
be  like  his ! 

When  his  body  was  conveyed  to  church,  it 
was  covered,  by  his  express  desire,  with  the 
poor's  pall,  and  he  was  buried  under  the 
middle  of  the  communion-table,  in  the  chan- 
cel of  Weston-FavcU  church,  on  Friday, 
Dec.  28,  in  the  presence  of  a  numerous 
congregation,  full  of  regret  for  the  loss  of 
so  excellent  a  pastor.  His  funeral  \vas  in- 
deed a  most  awful  and  very  affectiiig  sight. 
Mr.  Maddock,  his  curate,  who  buried  him, 
was  himself  in  tears.  Some  were  wringing 
their  hands,  others  sobbing,  many  were  si- 
lently weeping,  but  all  were  inwardly  and 
sincerely  grieved,  as  their  looks  sufficiently 
testified ;  and  his  attendants  then  bore  a  vi- 
sible witness," that  he  had  not  been  altogether 
imserviceable  in  his  generation.  The  poor 
thankfully  acknowledged  it ;  and,  as  they 
looked  into  his  grave,  seemed  to  say  within 
themselves,  "  There  lies  the  man  whose 
tmwearied  kindness  was  the  constant  relief 
of  my  various  distresses  ;  who  tenderly  vi- 
sited my  languishing  bed,  and  readily  sup- 
plied my  indigent  circumstances."  Others, 
once  ignorant  and  ungodly,  looked  at  his 
grave,  and  seemed  by  their  expressive  sighs 
to  say,  "  Here  are  the  last  remains  of  that 
sincere  friend  who  watched  for  my  soul.  I 
tremble  to  think  into  what  irretrievable  ruin 
I  might  quickly  have  been  plunged,  had  not 
Lis  faithful  admonitions  and  repeated  ex- 
hortations, arrested  me  in  the  wild  career. 
I  was  then  unacquainted  with  the  gospel  of 
peace  ;  but  now,  enlightened  by  his  instruc- 
tions, 1  see  the  all-sufficiency  of  my  Saviour. 
His  discourses  are  still  warm  on  my  heart, 
and  I  trust  will  be  more  and  more  operative 
on  my  life. 

It  may  be  truly  said  of  Mr.  Hervey,  that 
few  lives  have  ever  been  more  heavenly, 
and  few  deaths  more  triumphant.  He  died 
in  the  Lord,  and  is  now  at  rest,  where  even 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling.  His 
name  is  recorded  in  the  annals  of  eternity  ; 
and  the  honours  conferred  on  him  by  Christ 


will  for  ever  continue  blooming  and   incor- 
ruptible in  the  world  of  glory. 

His  character,  both  in  his  public  and 
private  capacity,  was  of  the  most  exemplary 
kind. 

As  a  minister,  be  performed  all  the  duties 
of  that  office  with  the  greatest  strictness. 
In  the  pulpit  he  was  earnest  and  fervent, 
and  showed  that  he  felt  the  efficacy  of  what 
he  preached.  Nor  did  bethink  it  sufficient 
to  preach  on  the  Lord's  day  only,  but  set  up 
a  weekly  lecture  every  Wednesday  evening, 
at  Weston- Favell  church,  which  was  very 
well  attended.  His  zeal  for  the  performance 
of  his  duty  was,  however,  for  some  time 
before  he  died,  much  interrupted  by  the  ill 
state  of  his  health,  which  would  not  permit 
him  personally  to  take  due  care  even  of  the 
parish  of  Weston,  where  he  resided — a  cir- 
cumstance that  gave  him  inexpressible  con- 
cern. The  last  two  or  three  years  of  his 
life  he  could  scarce  do  any  thing  more  than 
preach  once  on  the  Lord's  day,  when  people 
for  many  miles  around  flocked  to  hear  him. 
His  Wednesday  evening  lecture  at  seven, 
he  discontinued  for  the  last  year.  He  had 
not  been  able  to  preach  for  some  time  at 
Collingtree,*  or  to  visit  his  parishioners  at 
their  own  houses,  as  his  custom  had  been  ; 
but  he  encouraged  them  to  come  to  him, 
and  to  converse  freely  on  the  subjects  re- 
lating to  their  eternal  interests  ;  and  on  such 
occasions  he  would  speak  with  a  force  and 
propriety  peculiar  to  himself.  He  would 
frequently  lament  his  inability  to  serve  his 
people,  comparing  himself  to  a  bleeding 
disabled  soldier,  and  only  not  slain. 

He  always  preached  without  notes,  ex- 
cept on  some  very  particular  occasion  ;  but 
his  method  was  judicious,  clear,  and  not  en- 
cumbered with  too  many  subdivisions.  His 
weakness  having  rendered  him,  for  several 
months  before  his  death,  incapable  of  speak- 
ing to  his  congregation  as  usual,  he  short- 
ened his  discourses,  and  took  a  most  useful 
method  of  inculcating  his  instructions  ;  for, 
after  he  had  expounded  his  text,  and  divided 
his  sermon  into  two  heads,  (rarely  into  more, 
ajid  never  exceeding  three,)  he  would  speak 
briefly,  and,  at  the  conclusion  of  each  head, 
enforce  what  he  had  said  by  a  pertinent  text 
of  Scripture,  desiring  his  congregation  (which 
was  generally  very  numerous)  to  tum  to 
their  Bibles,  and  double  down  that  text. 
"  Now,"  added  he,  "  my  dear  brethren,  if 
you  forget  my  sermon,  you  caimot  forget 
(rod's  word  in  this  text,  unless  you  wilfully 
throw  your  Bibles  aside.  Show  these  to 
your  children,  or  the  absent  part  of  your  fa- 
mily, when  you  return  home."     Then  he 


*  Weston-Favell  and  Collingtree,  the  two  family 
livings,  are  within  five  measured  miles  of  each  otlier ; 
which  Mr.  Hervey  and  his  curate  used  to  attend  al- 
ternately, till  his  ill  health  confined  him  entirely  to 
Weston-Favell. 


LIFE  OF  THE  REV-  JAMES  HERVEY. 


gave  a  striking  exhortation,  and  at  the  end 
of  it  another  text  for  them  to  double  down  ; 
so  that  they  had  always  three  texts  ;  in  order 
to  their  tindini;;  of  which,  he  paused  in  the 
pulpit  two  or  three  minutes.  This  method 
was  attended  with  another  good  effect ;  it 
obliged  the  generality  of  his  hearers  to  bring 
their  Bibles  along  with  them;  for  those  who 
were  without  a  Bible  lost  the  benelit  of  the 
texts,  and  were  imemployed,  while  the  ma- 
jority who  had  one  were  very  busy  in  look- 
ing for  the  passages  referred  to  in  his  ser- 
mon. 

He  endeavoured  as  much  as  possible  to 
divest  himself,  in  his  public  discourses,  of 
his  usual  elegancy  of  style,  and  to  adapt  his 
language  to  the  lowest  capacity.  In  this  he 
followed  the  example  of  Luther,  who,  in 
his  Table-talk,  says,  "  If  in  my  pleaching  I 
were  to  pay  a  regard  to  Philip  Melancthon, 
and  other  learned  divines,  then  I  should  do 
little  good.  I  preach  in  the  plainest  man- 
ner to  the  illiterate,  and  that  gives  content 
to  all.  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin,  I  spare 
till  we  learned  ones  come  together."  Mr. 
Hervey  thought  perspicuous  language  and 
evangelical  doctrine  of  much  more  import- 
ance to  his  parishioners,  than  elaborate  or 
ornamented  discourses  ;  though  few  men 
living,  perhaps,  were  more  capable  of  satis- 
fying a  polite  or  learned  audience. 

His  method  of  catechising  children  in 
church,  and  of  speaking  to  them  in  private, 
was  very  engaging  and  useful.  He  would 
put  little  questions  to  them,  after  they  had 
repeated  the  words  of  the  catechism  ;  as  for 
instance,  "  Well,  my  little  maid,  let  me  hear 
if  you  understand  what  you  said.  If  you  do 
understand  the  meaning  of  these  words,  you 
will  then  be  able  to  answer  the  questions  I 
shall  put  to  you."  He  would  at  these  times 
ask  not  only  such  questions  as  were  suitable 
to  the  words  of  the  catechism,  but  also  such 
as  would  strike  at  the  capital  vices  of  his 
parishioners,  yet  without  giving  personal  of- 
fence. 

He  did  not  forget  that  he  was  a  minister 
in  his  house ;  for  he  worshipped  God  with 
his  family  twice  a-day.  He  supped  at  eight 
every  night,  and  at  nine  he  expounded  a  text 
of  Scripture  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  seldom  longer,  except  when  some  friend 
was  present,  to  whom  he  thought  his  dis- 
course might  be  useful,  or  when  particularly 
requested  to  enlarge.  After  this  he  con- 
cluded with  prayer. 

He  breakfasted  at  nine  ;  and  about  eight 
he  called  his  family  together,  and  lequired 
each  of  his  servants  to  repeat  by  heart  the 
text  w'hich  he  had  explained  tiie  preceding 
evening,  and  then  he  would  recapitulate  his 
exposition  ;  by  which  method  both  his  text 
and  commentary  were  imjjrinted  on  their 
memories.      After  this  he  had  prayeis. 

In  the  aftcMiuon,  when    he    was    called 


down  to  tea,  he  used  to  bring  his  Hebrew 
Bible  or  Greek  Testament  with  him,  and 
would  speak  (as  he  was  ever  studious  how 
he  miglit  promote  the  glory  of  God  and  im- 
prove time)  either  upon  one  or  more  verses, 
as  occasion  offered,  in  the  most  instructive 
and  entertaining  manner  imaginable.  And 
in  the  summer  season  he  would  now  and 
then  drmk  tea,  when  his  health  would  per- 
mit him,  with  some  of  his  most  serious  pa- 
rishioners ;  and  then  five  or  six  of  the  neigh- 
bours were  invited,  and  Mr.  Hervey's  con- 
versation was  remarkably  affecting,  as  he 
had  a  hap])y  talent  at  spiritualizing  almost 
every  ijicident,  and  was  naturally  of  a  most 
obliging  and  cheerful  disposition. 

He  was  a  member  of  an  assembly  formed 
for  Christian  improvement,  which  was  es- 
tablished in  his  neighbourhood  on  the  7th 
of  July  1747,  and  constantly  attended  it  so 
long  as  he  was  able  to  ride  to  the  place  of 
meeting.  A  shoit  account  of  the  rules  of 
this  assembly  is  given  at  the  end  of  his 
Tracts,  together  with  two  j)rayers  composed 
by  him  for  the  use  of  the  members  thereof. 

In  the  exercise  of  his  charity,  Mr.  Her- 
vey chose  to  clothe  the  poor,  rather  than 
give  them  money  ;  and  he  would  get  some 
judicious  person  to  buy  linen,  coarse  cloth, 
stockings,  shoes,  &c.  for  them  at  the  best 
hand  ;  alleging,  that  the  poor  could  not  pur- 
chase on  such  good  terms  wliat  they  want- 
ed, at  the  little  shops,  and  with  small  sums 
of  money.  "  I  am,"  said  he,  "  God's  stew- 
ard for  the  poor,  and  I  must  husband  the 
little  pittance  I  have  to  bestow  upon  them, 
and  make  it  go  as  far  as  possible."  But 
when  money  would  be  really  serviceable  to 
a  family,. as  to  a  prudent  housekeeper  dis- 
tressed by  sickness  or  misfortunes,  he  would 
give  five  or  more  guineas  at  a  time,  taking 
ciue  that  it  should  not  be  known  whence 
the  money  came.  Pope's  com])liment  to 
ilr.  Allen  of  Bath  might  be  justly  applied 
to  him.  who  would 

Do  good  by  stealth,  and  blush  to  find  it  fame. 

He  was  particularly  desirous  of  getting 
the  advice  of  a))hysician  (or  at  least  of  some 
judicious  apothecary)  for  the  sick  poor ; 
and  was  very  ready  to  procure  them  the  best 
medicines — a  most  beneficial  sort  of  charity 
to  mankind,  and  in  which  it  were  to  be 
wished  he  had  many  imitators.  He  woidd 
frequently  petition  such  physicians  of  his 
acquaintance  in  diffi'rent  parts  of  the  king- 
dom, as  he  apprehended  thus  charitably  dis- 
posed, to  give  their  advice  occasionally, 
when  they  rode  through  a  town,  to  such 
poor  creatures  as  the  clergyman  of  the  place, 
or  some  substantial  inhaljitant,  should  re- 
commend as  real  objects  of  compassion. 
Mr.  Hervey  would  then,  with  great  plea- 
sure, and  with  as  much  gratitude  to  the  i)hy- 
sician  as  if  done  to  himself,  defray  the  ex- 
pense of  wliat  medicines  were  wanted-     lie 


LIIE   or  THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEY. 


greatly  disapproved  indeed  of  the  clergyV 
littemptiiig  to  give  ntediciiies  to  tlieir  j)a- 
risliioners  ;  as  he  judiciously  inferred,  tliat  it 
was  itiipo-;sible  for  them  to  do  it  with  tlie 
requisite  judgment.  "  Let  my  brethren," 
he  would  s;iy,  "  give  them  wine,  bread,  or 
beer,  and  get  good  spoon-meats  made  for 
them  ;  but  medieiiies  are  of  tuo  important  a 
nature  to  be  given  iiidisL-riminately."  He 
observed,  tliat  by  Ids  own  method  the  siek 
poor  had  the  viiy  best  medicines,  as  the 
physician  saw  them  himself,  and  bought 
them  very  cheap,  because  the  ajiothecary, 
knowing  they  were  for  charitable  uses, 
charged  the  jdiysician  for  them  no  more 
than  prime  cost,  with  some  little  allowance 
merely  for  his  trouble  in  com])ounding 
them  ;  and  as  the  physician  knew  what  dis- 
eases were  curable,  there  was  no  waste  of 
medicines  in  fruitless  attenipts  to  cure  cases 
which,  though  actually  incurable,  persons 
of  less  judgment  could  not  pronounce  to  be 
so. 

He  g;ive  away  a  great  number  of  good 
books,  witii  suitable  instructions  for  their 
use,  iind  especially  Bibles.  In  the  blank 
leaf  he  frequently  wrote  something  capable 
of  making  aib  impression,  or  else  stuck  in  a 
prijited  paper  relating  to  the  promises  of 
God  in  and  through  Jesus  Christ,  or  to 
creation,  preservation,  and  redemption.* 

All  the  future  profits  of  his  work's  he  has 
left  to  some  of  ihe  charitable  uses  above 
specified,  excejit  bis  ft'leditations  ;  the  copy 
of  which  he  had  sold,  after  it  had  passed 
through  several  editions  :  which  sale  of  the 
copy,  and  the  profits  of  the  former  impres- 
sions, amounted  to  about  L.700,  all  of  which 
he  gave  away  in  charity.  He  said,  that  it 
was  devoted  to  God,  and  that  he  would  on 
no  account  apply  it  to  worldly  uses-;  that 
he  wrote  not  lor  profit  or  fame,  but  to  serve 
the  cause  of  God ;  and  as  Providence  had 
blessed  his  atteinj)!:,  he  thought  himself 
bound  to  relieve  liie  distresses  of  his  fellow- 
creatures  with  It. 

In  any  expenses  relating  to  himself  he 
was  extremely  frugal,  tha.t  he  might  be  libe- 
ral to  others;  and  it  was  always  his  desire 
to  die  jit-t  even  with  the  world.  "  I  will 
be  my  owjM  executor,"  said  he ;  and,  as  he 
died  on  Christuias-day,  his  fund  ex])iied 
almost  with  Lis  life.  "What  little  remained, 
he  desired  might  be  given  in  \^■arm  clothing 
to  the  ])oor  in  that  severe  season. 

To  these  instances  of  his  charity,  we  may 
properly  add  an  incident,  which,  how  trifling 
soever  in  itself,  yet  affords  a  very  strong 
pr<;of,  not  only  of  the  benevolence  of  his 
heart,  but  of  his  regard  to  ])ract:eal  leligic  n, 
and  to  the  doing  of  every  j:ood  work  within 
his  power. 

A  day  or  two  before  his  death,  when  he 

*  bet  a  fi'i'V  ol'lh;?  ju'.iilni  iuici  ;nncp^'  his  Tr;;cl;. 


was  reduced  to  such  extreme  weakness  as 
to  be  unable  to  read,  and  could  with  difii- 
eiilty  speak,  a  little  account  being  settled 
with  him  by  a  friend,  on  the  balance  of 
which  he  received  I8s.  looking  on  the  money 
with  great  indifference,  he  exjiressed  him- 
self to  this  effect :  "  I  would  gladly  dispose 
oi"  this  small  sum  in  such  manner  as  may 
do  most  good.  It  is  the  only  act  which  I 
now  i.m,  and  probably  the  last  that  I  shall 
be,  able  to  perform.  Give  yt)urself  the 
trouble  of  looking  amongst  these  books, 
and  you  will  find  JNIr.  liichards'  pamphlet ; 
at  the  latter  end  of  which  are,  I  remember, 
some  Hints  concerning  the  means  of  pro- 
moting religiiju  in  ourselves  or  others,  which 
(even  with  some  additions  and  improve- 
ments which  you  might  easily  make)  will 
not  fill  more  than  a  sheet  of  paper,*  and, 
if  stuck  up  or  franied,  might  be  particularly 
useful  in  that  form.  Let,  then,  such  a 
number  of  them  be  printed  and  given  away 
as  this  money  will  admit  of."  His  orders 
weie  properly  executed  ;  aiid  the  evidences 
of  such  an  angelic  temper  were  equally 
matter  of  edification  and  comlbrt  to  his 
fi'iend,  as  this  charitable  legacy,  if  we  may 
so  call  it,  will  be  to  all  v\  ho  receive  and 
rightly  use  it. 

This  incident  affords  a  striking  evidence 
of  the  happy  fruits  and  effects  of  his  favour- 
ite doctrine,  and  strong  expressions  of  the 
all-sufiicient  righteousness  of  Christ  as  the 
sole  requisite  to  justification  before  God 
i;iKl  acceptance  with  him,  and  shows  that 
i;;dLtd  his  fuiih  wrought  by  love.  No  man 
liad  ever  a  greater  disregard  for  money, 
which  he  esteemed  unworthy  of  his  notice 
on  any  other  account  than  as  it  furni.shed 
him  with  the  means  of  doing  good.  Surely 
we  may  here  borrow  the  sentiment  and 
expression  of  the  celebrated  Mr.  Poi)e,  and 
justly  conclude,  that 

He  .tit  Ill's  ruling  passion  strong  in  de.ith. 

]\ii.  Kervey  M'as  indeed  too  negligent  of 
his  diess,  \a hich,  though  it  could  not  in  the 
least  lessen  the  resj)ect  paid  to  him  in  his 
own  parish  and  neighbourhood,  where  he 
was  so  well  known,  yet  he  would  unques- 
tionably have  avoided  it  if  he  had  lived  in 
a.  public  scene,  where  the  dicency  and  pro- 
liriety  of  aj;pearance  are  of  much  greater 
imjiortance. 

In  learning  be  was  inferior  to  few.  Greek 
was  almost  as  familiar  to  him  as  his  native 
language.  He  was  a  great  master  of  the 
classics  ;  and,  in  the  voimger  part  of  his 
life,  had  x^ritten  some  copies  of  verses, 
which  showed  no  contemi)tible  genius  for 
poetry.  He  had  a  critical  knowledge  of 
tlie  Hebrew  tongue,  and  delighted  in  it. 

With  respect  to  his  private  capacity,  he 
was  never  known  to  be  in  a  passion.      Ide 

'  Tlic  Hints,  &c.  arc  sul-juiiicJ  lo  the-  'J"r?.cis>. 


LIFE   01-    Till: 


?A:viIIS  IIERVEY. 


lived  as  in  heaven.  No  worldly  concern 
(though  he  sometimes  met  with  \evy  trvin;;^ 
oiks)  ever  affected  him.  His  humility 
rendered  him  invidnerable.  When  he  was 
misrepresented  and  calumniated,  he  would 
say,  "  Om'  enemies  are  sometimes  our  best 
friends,  and  tell  us  truths  ;  aiid  then  we 
should  amend  our  faults,  and  be  thankful 
for  such  information  ;  and  if  what  they  say 
be  not  true,  and  only  spoken  through  ma- 
lice, then  such  persons  are  to  be  con.^ide^ed 
as  diseased  in  their  minds,  and  we  should 
pray  for  them.  They  are  to  be  pitied," 
says  he,  "  and  I  might  be  as  justly  angry 
with  a  man  who  is  diseased  in  his  body." 

All  this  he  spoke  with  humility,  serious- 
ness, and  sweetness  ;  for  it  was  the  lan- 
guage of  bis  heart,  and  not  of  affectatioii. 
In  his  ordiiuuy  transactions  with  others,  he 
was  ever  cheerful,  punctual,  just,  and  can- 
did to  ))ersons  of  e\ery  denomination. 

He  frequently  wrote  religious  letters  to 
his  acquaintances,  according  to  their  diffe- 
rent circumstances,  in  the  most  an.iiable 
and  convincing  manner ;  and  he  seemed  to 
make  it  almost  an  invariable  rule,  not  to 
write  a  letter  on  any  occasion,  without  at 
least  one  pious  sentence*  in  it ;  and  that 
not  introduced  in  a  forced  and  awkward 
manner,  but  interwoven  so  as  to  appear 
naturally  to  arise  from  the  suijject.  Of 
this  kind  some  specimens  may  be  seen  in 
the  note  at  the  bctiom  of  the  l)age.-|- 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Hervey  lived  a 
very  holy  and  exemplarj'  life,  preaching 
Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified,  and  incul- 
cating the  practice  of  real  religion  and  holi- 
ness in  heajt  and  life,  yet  his  enemies  (for 
strange  as  it  is,  even  Air.  Hervey  hijnself, 
the  most  inoffensive  of  men,  had  enemies) 
have  not  scrupled  to  assert,  that  "  his  tenets 
were  dishonourable  to  (jod,  subversive  of 
all  gospel-holiness,  destmctive  even  of  com- 
mon morality,  and  very  injurious  to  society 
itself,  by  making  men  melancholy,  and  re- 
gardless of  business."  These  were  the 
very  words  of  an  abusive  and  anonj-mons 
letter  sent  to  him  by  the  post;  on  which 


*  Kiilla  dies  sine  linea,  nulla  epistola  sine  Christo, 
were  Mr.  Hervey's  maxims. 

+  These  specimens  are  Uiken  from  hasty  message- 
c.irr's,  or  billets,  to  some  of  his  intimate  friends. 

"  When  I  see  my  dear  friend,  we  will  Ui'k  about 
the  contents  of  his  last.  My  money  is  Christ's,  .ind 
I  only  desire  that  he  will  give  mc  benevolence  to  dis- 
pose of  it  willingly,  discretion  to  iK'Stow  itprudently. 
I  hope  you  have  quite  recovered,  and  adopted  tlie 
P&slmist's  resolution.  Psalm  cxvi.  8,  f).  What  do 
you  think  Is  the  meaning  of  th.-.t  remarkable  expres- 
sion, "  I  will  walk  before  the  Lord  ?  " 

In  another  billet  to  a  person  about  retiring  from 
business,  he  writw,— "  Thanks  for  your  VVitsius  de 
fficonomia  Kte/eviim.  The  time,  I  hope,  is  coming, 
when  you  will  h  ve  leisure  to  read,  a  heart  to  relisli, 
and  a  tongue  to  display  such  precious  doctrines." 

In  another  he  writes, — 

"  Let  us  all  remember,  my  dearfriend,  that  time  is 
wpon  the  ^ving;  eternity  is  at  our  door;  therefore 
what  we  do  for  cur  blessed  Master  we  must  do 
((uickly." 


that  meek  and  most  excellent  mnn  observed 
to  an  intimate  friend,  with  all  his  usiial 
mildness,  "  Indeed  this  gen-l'.'man  may  be 
said,  I  think,  to  write  at  random.  Surely 
he  has  never  read  my  work  If  I  knf^w 
wiiere  to  direct  to  him,  I  should  desire  him 
to  tm-n  to  what  I  have  advanced  in  the 
ninth  paragraph  of  my  Contemplation  oa 
i  the  Starry  Heavens ;  and  such  a  reply,  I 
would  hope,  niiglit  convince  him  of  his 
mistake-" 

Some  of  Mr.   Hervey's  friends  thouErht 
he  carried  the    Calvinistical  tenets  so  tar, 
that  consequences  disadvantageous  to  reli- 
gion might  be  deduced  from  them,  and  which 
he  himself,  instead  of  assenting  to  them, 
would  have  startled  at  and  rejected  with 
abhorrence.     The  fact  is,  the  doctrine  he 
delivered  in  his  writings  is  innely  scriptural, 
and  agreeable  to  that  contained  in  all  tl;e 
confessions  of  the  reformed  chv.rches  ;  and 
is  so  far  from  having  a  tendency  to  \veukeji 
the  obligations   to  pmity  and   holiness  of 
life,  that  it  promotes   them    in    the  most 
effectuai  manner,  and  has  the  most  happv 
influence  on  morality.      When  persons  of 
judgment   have  pointed  out  to  him   some 
expressions  that  were  liable  to  be  misunder- 
stood in  that  respect,  he  always  disavowed 
any  such  meaning ;   and  afiirn;ed,  that  the 
fault  was  not  in  the  evangelical  doctrines  so 
much  insisted  on  by  him,  but  in  the  misap- 
prehension,  ignorance,    or    inattention,    of 
those  who  abused   them  to  licentiousness. 
He  woidd  then  add,  he  was  I'eady  to  alter 
or  retract  any  sentiment  or  expression  whith 
he  apprehended   to  be  really  objectionable  ; 
but  that  to   make   things   equally  clear  lo 
every  one's  apprehension,   or  to  have  the 
same  effect  upon  every  one's  mind;  was  an 
impiT.ttticable   attempt ;    tluit  he  professed 
himself  a  Calnnist,  and  that,  consequently, 
the  Arminians  would  not  relish  some  things 
he  advanced,   though   what  he  wrote  was 
exactly  conformable  to  the  church  articles, 
which  are  Calvinistical ;  yet  he  hoped  they 
woidd  not  reject   the  whole,  because  they 
could  not,  in  every  point,  concur  with  him  ; 
at'.d  that  his  writings  in  general  might  be 
useful,  how  much  soever  some   of  liis  par- 
ticular (though  truly  scriptural)    opinions 
might  be  doubted  or  censured.    And  on  this 
head  let  us  hear  Mr.  Hervey  himself    He, 
in  a  letter  written  by  him  a  very  little  before 
his  happy  death,   thus   expresses  himself: 
"  Do  tliey  who  deny  faith,  and   extol   their 
good  works,  distinguish  themselves   by  the 
l)ractice  of  tbcm  ?     I  will  be  bold  to  say, 
that,  on  an  impartial  examination,   the  ma- 
jority will   be  foimd  on  the  side  of  th(>se 
who  embrace   the  doctrine  of  the  imputa- 
tion of  Christ's  righteousness,  aiid  who  ex- 
pect salvation  by  him  alone." 

Of  the  compliments  publicly  paid  to  h's 
j)iety  and  genius,  it  will  be  suificient  to  i/i- 


LIFE  OF  THE  REV.  JAMES  HERVEY. 


scrt  a  paragraph  from  the  Northampton 
jMercury,  which  may  be  seen  at  the  bottom 
of  the  page;*  and  the  following  eulogium 
extracted  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dodd's  poem 
on  the  Epiphany. 

Thou  HerveT,  too, 

Whose  pa<;e  and  soul  alike  breathe  humblest  love 

To  thy  adored  liedeemer,  thou  hast  shown 

That  piety  and  polish'd  elegance 

May  well  together  suit;  and  while  remains 

Or  piety  or  elegance,  thy  works, 

Like  genuine  gold,  the  touchstone  will  abide. 

And  grateful  to  thy  countrymen  remain: 

Oh  !  may  I  to  my  lowly  strains  derive 

Some  merit  from  the  friendship  of  thy  name; 

Strains,  whose  exalted  subject  fills  thy  heart 

So  constant  with  delight ;  and  from  thy  tongue 

In  converse  pours  such  streams  of  eloquence. 

That  the  wrapt  hearer  wonders  at  his  fears 

Of  death  ere-while,  and  glowing  with  the  love 

Of  Jesus,  caught  from  thee,  longs  to  behold 

His  Saviour  in  the  clouds:  for  who  can  stand 

Amidst  the  sweetness  of  Arabian  groves. 


*  On  Christmas-day,  in  the  afternoon,  died,  in  the 
45th  year  of  his  age,  the  Rev.  Mr.  James  Hervey, 
rector  of  Weston-Favell,  near  Northampton,  and  au- 
thor of  the  Meditations  among  the  Tombs,  Flower 
Garden,  &c.  He  was  one  of  the  most  eminent  in- 
Btances  of  the  power  of  Christianity  upon  the  human 
mind.  In  his  ministerial  province  he  was  pious,  fer- 
vent, and  indefatigable.  In  his  ordinary  connexions 
with  the  community  he  was  ever  cheerful,  conscien- 
tiously punctual  m  all  his  dealings,  and  amiablv  can- 
did to  persons  of  every  denomination.  To  his  chari- 
ties he  set  no  bounds,  scarcely  leaving  himself  the 
mere  requisites  of  his  station.  Under  the  severest 
trials  of  infirmity,  for  several  years  he  displaved  the 
highest  example  of  fortitude,  serenity,  patience,  and 
an  entire  resignation  to  the  divine  will.  His  writin-'s 
most  abundantly  evidence  his  learning  and  ingenuity  • 
But,  reader,  it  is  not  the  acquisitions  of  hFs  under- 
standing, but  the  improvements  of  his  heart,  and  his 
confiderice  in  the  great  Redeemer,  which  will  now 
avail  this  most  excellent  man. 


And  not  bear  thence  jome  fragrance  ?— Valued  friend. 
Proceed  ;  and  (thy  too  feeble  strength  renew'd) 
May  to  hoar  age  thy  jonrney  be  prolong'iU 
And  strew'd  each  step  with  blessings  to  mankind  ! 

We  -shall  close  this  account  of  Mr-  Her- 
vey's  life  with  the  following  elegy  on  him. 

Urania,  speak  !  in  pensive  numbers  tell 
How  Zion  trembled  when  great  Hervey  fell : 
When  fail'd  his  strength,  and  when  his  pulse  beat  low. 
Tell  how  she  moum'd  to  see  the  imiiending  blow  ! 
O  thou,  to  whom  all  sacred  themes  belong. 
Pour  forth  the  sweetly  melancholy  song ! 

"  Alas  !  grim  death  hath  shot  the  fatal  dart. 
Which  long  seem'd  pointed  at  his  languid  heart ; 
The  insatiate  tyrant,  crown'd  with  funeral  gloom. 
In  triumph  drags  him  to  the  hollow  tomb  ! 
Who  now  so  well  can  paint  the  blooming  flower. 
Or  preach  from  sepulchres  at  midnight  hour  ? 
Who  now  so  well  the  starry  heavens  scan. 
And  read  the  lectures  nature  meant  for  man  ? 
No  more  his  voice  a  careless  world  can  move. 
Or  tell  the  wonders  of  redeeming  love ; 
No  more  shall  thousands  round  his  pulpit  throng. 
To  hear  the  heavenly  precepts  of  his  tongue ; 
For  lol  above  this  gross  impurer  air, 
Released  from  every  pain  and  every  care. 
He  soars  aloft  (angelic  hosts  his  guide) 
On  wings  new  plumed,  which  ne'er  before  he  tried. 
With  rapid  speed  his  golden  pinions  rise 
Through  starn'  planes,  and  skim  the  empyrean  skies. 
And  now,  where  sparkling  portals  wide  display 
The  blissful  regions  of  eternal  day. 
His  Lord  receives  him  'midst  celestial  choirs. 
Who  crown  his  head,  and  strike  their  golden  lyres : 
Through  heaven's  glad  courts  the  greeting  anthems 

roll, 
.\nd  joys  new  blooming  feast  his  ravish'd  soul; 
Joys  which  to  tell  all  eloquence  is  faint. 
And  which  the  loftiest  muse  can  never  paint." 

*  The  reader  may  be  assured,  that  these  verses 
were  wrote  by  a  very  serious  and  well-disposed  young 
man,  apprentice  to  a  Jersey  comber,  in  the  town  of 
Northampton,  in  a  low  station  of  life,  and  of  no  li- 
bera! education  ;  whosemind,  by  Mr.  Hen'ey's preach- 
ing and  writings,  had  been  very  early  impressed  with 
the  sacred  ardour  of  piety  and  poetry. 


TO 


MISS  R- 


Madam, 

These  Reflections,  the  one  on  the  deep- 
est, the  other  on  the  gayest,  scenes  of  Na- 
ture, when  they  proceeded  privately  from 
the  pen,  were  addressed  to  a  Lady  of  the 
most  valuable  endowments,  who  crowned 
all  her  other  endearing  qualities  by  a  fervent 
love  of  Christ,  and  an  exemplary  conformity 
to  his  divine  pattern.  She,  alasl  lives  no 
longer  on  earth,  unless  it  be  in  tlie  honours 
of  a  distinguished  charactiT,  and  in  the 
bleeding  remembrance  of  her  acquaint- 
ance- 
It  is  impossible.  Madam,  to  wish  you  a 
richer  blessing,  or  a  more  substantial  happi- 
ness, than  that  the  same  spirit  of  unfeigned 
faith,  the  same  course  of  undefiled  religion, 
which  have  enabled  her  to  triumph  over 
death,  may  both  jmimate  and  adorn  your 
life.  And  you  will  permit  me  to  declare, 
that  my  chief  inducement  in  requesting  your 
acceptance  of  the  foUoAving  Meditations, 
now  they  make  a  public  appearance  from 
the  press,  is,  that  they  are  designed  to  cul- 
tivate the  same  sacred  principle,  and  to  pro- 
mote the  same  excellent  practice. 

Long,  Madam,  may  you  bloom  in  all  the 
vivacity  and  amiableness  of  youth,  like  the 
charming  subject  of  one  of  these  Contem- 
plations. But,  at  the  same  time,  remember, 
that  with  regard  to  such  inferior  accom- 
plishments, you  must  one  day  fade  (may  it 
prove  some  very  remote  period  !)  like  the 


mournful  objects  of  the  other.  This  con- 
sideration will  prompt  you  to  go  on  as  you 
have  begun,  in  adding  the  meekness  of  wis- 
dom, and  aU  the  beauties  of  holiness,  to  the 
graces  of  an  engaging  person,  and  the  re- 
tiiiements  of  a  polite  education. 

And  might — O  !  might  the  ensuing  hints 
furnish  you  with  the  least  assistance  in  pro- 
secuting so  desirable  an  end  ;  might  they 
contribute  in  any  degree  to  establish  your 
faith,  or  elevate  your  devotion  ;  they  would 
then  administer  to  the  author  such  a  satis- 
faction as  applause  cannot  give,  nor  censure 
take  away — a  satisfaction  which  I  should 
be  able  to  enjoy,  even  in  those  awful  mo- 
ments when  all  that  captivates  the  eye  is 
sinking  in  darkness,  and  every  glory  of  this 
lower  world  disappearing  for  ever. 

These  wishes.  Madam,  as  they  are  a 
most  agreeable  employ  of  my  thought,  so 
they  come  attended  with  this  additional 
circumstance  of  pleasure,  that  they  are  also 
the  sincerest  expressions  of  that  very  great 
esteem  with  which  I  am, 

Madam, 

Yom-  most  obedient  most  humble  servant, 

JAMES  HERVEY. 


Weston-Favell,  near  Northampton, 
May  20,  174ft 


PREFACE. 


Tiir.  tirs^t  of  these  opcnsioral  Mpditation^ 
begs  leave  to  remind  my  reader*  of  their 
latter  end ;  and  would  invite  them  to  set, 
not  their  houses  only,  but,  which  is  inex- 
pressil.ly  more  need/'ul,  tlicir souls  in  order; 
thnt  they  inKV  be  able,  through  a]l  the  in- 
termediate ^tages,  to  look  forward  upon 
their  approaching  exit  without  ajiy  anxious 
a;)prehensions  ;  and  when  the  great  change 
commences,  may  bid  adieu  to  terrestrial 
things,  with  all  the  calmness  of  a  cheerful 
resignation,  with  all  the  comforts  of  a  well- 
grounded  faith. 

The  other  attempts  to  sketch  out  some 
little  traces  of  the  all- sufficiency  of  our 
Redeemer  ior  the  grand  and  gracious  pur- 
poses of  everlasting  salvation  ;  that  a  sense 
of  his  unutterable  dignity  and  infinite  per- 
fections may  incite  us  to  regard  him  with 
sentiments  of  the  most  profound  veneration, 
to  long  for  an  assured  interest  in  his  merits 
with  all  the  ardency  of  desire,  and  to  trust 
in  his  powerful  mediation  with  an  affiance 
not  to  be  shaken  by  any  temptations,  not 
to  be  shared  with  any  performances  of  our 
own. 

I  flatter  myself,  that  the  thoughts  con- 
ceived among  the  tombs  may  be  welcome 
to  the  serious  and  humane  mind ;  because, 
as  there  are  few  who  have  not  consigned 
the  remsuns  of  some  dear  relations,  or  ho- 
noured friends,  to  those  silent  repositories, 
so  there  are  none  but  must  be  sensible,  that 
this  is  the  house  appointed  for  all  living, 
and  that    they  themiselves    are    shortly  to 


remove  into  the  same  solemn  mansions. 
Aud  vKo  woidd  not  turn  aside  for  awhile 
from  the  most  favourite  amusements,  to 
view  the  place  where  Iiis  once  loved  com-' 
pariions  lie?  who  would  not  soinetiints 
survey  those  apartments,  where  he  himself 
is  to  lake  up  an  abode  till  time  shall  be  no 
more  ? 

As  to  the  other  little  essay,  may  I  not 
humbly  presume,  that  the  very  subject  it- 
self will  recommend  the  remsu-ks  ?  For 
who  is  not  delighted  with  the  prospect  of 
the  blooming  creation,  and  everi  charmed 
with  the  delicate  attraction  of  flowers  ? 
Wlao  dees  not  covet  to  assemble  them  in 
the  gaiden,  cr  wear  them  in  a  nosegay? 
Since  this  is  a  passion  so  universal,  who 
would  not  be  willing  to  render  it  produc- 
tive of  the  sublimest  improvement  ?  1  his 
piece  of  hoiy  tiiigulity  I  have  ventured  to 
suggest,  and  endeavoured  to  exemplify,  in 
the  second  letter ;  that  while  the  hand  is 
cropping  the  transient  beatifies  of  a  flower, 
the  attentive  mind  may  be  enriching  it^eif 
with  solid  and  lasting  good.  And  I  cannot 
but  entertain  some  pleasing  hopes,  that  the 
nicest  taste  may  receive  and  relish  rebpious 
impressions  when  they  are  conveyed  by 
such  lovely  monitors  ;  when  the  instnictivt 
lessons  are  found,  not  on  the  leaves  of  some 
formidable  folio,  but  stand  legible  on  the 
tine  sarcenet  of  a  niucissus  ;  when  they 
savour  not  of  the  lamp  and  recluse,  but 
come  breathuig  from  the  fragrant  bosom  o( 
a  jonr^uU. 


MEDITATIONS 


AMONG 


THE    TOMES, 


LETTER  TO  A  LADY. 


Madaji, 
Travellimg  lately  into  Cornwall,  I  hap- 
pened to  aliglit  at  u  considerable  village  in 
that  comity  ;  where,  finding  myself  under  an 
unexpected  necessity  of  staying  a  little,  I 
took  a  walk  to  the  chiu'ch.*  The  doors, 
like  the  heaven  to  which  they  lead,  were 
\'ii(le  open,  and  readily  admitted  an  unv.or- 
thy  stranger.  Pleased  with  the  opportunity, 
1  resolved  to  spend  a  few  minutes  under  the 
sacred  roof. 

In  a  situation  so  retired  and  awfid,  I 
coidd  not  avoid  falling  into  a  train  of  medi- 
tations, serious  and  mournfully  pleasing  ; 
which,  I  trust,  were  in  some  degree  profita- 
ble to  me,  wliile  they  possessed  and  warmed 
my  thoughts  ;  and  if  they  may  administer 
any  satisikction  to  you,  Madam,  now  they 
are  recollected,  and  committed  to  writing,  I 
shall  receive  a  fresh  pleasure  from  them. 

It  was  an  ancient  pile  :  reared  by  hands, 
that  ages  ago  were  moiddered  into  dust — 
Situate  in  the  centre  of  a  large  burial-ground, 
remote  from  aU  the  noise  and  hurry  of  tu- 
multuous life. — The  body  spacious,  the 
structure  lofty  ;  the  whole  magnificently 
])lain.  A  row  of  regular  pillars  extended  them- 


•  1  had  named,  in  some  former  editions,  a  particu- 
lar churcli,  viz.  Ivilkhampton  ;  where  several  of  the 
rnoiiunitnts,  ilcscribeJ  in  ilie  following  pages,  really 
exist.  Lut,  as  1  thought  it  convenient  to  mention 
some  cases  liere,  wliich  we  not,  according  to  the  best 
oi'my  remembiauce,  rcfdrcil  to  in  any  inscriptions 
there :  1  have  nqw  o.nitied  the  name,  that  imagination 
might  operate  inore  freely,  and  the  improvement  of 
the  reader  be  consulted,  withoutany  thingthat  should 
look  tilu:  a  vartaticu  from  truth  and  tact. 


selves  through  the  midst,  and  supported 
the  roof  with  simplicity  and  with  dignity — 
The  light  that  passed  through  the  windows, 
seemed  to  shed  a  kind  of  luminous  obscuri- 
ty ;    which  gave  every  object  a  grave  and 

venerable  air The  deep  silence  added  to 

the  gloomy  aspect,  and  both  heightened  by 
the  loneliness  of  the  place,  greatly  increased 
the  solemnity  of  the  scene — A  sort  of  re- 
ligious dread  stole  insensibly  on  my  mind, 
while  I  ad\'anced  aU  pensive  and  thoughtful, 
along  the  inmost  aisle.  Such  a  dread  as 
hushed  every  ruder  passion,  and  dissipated 
all  the  gay  images  of  an  alliu-ing  world. 

Having  adored  that  eternal  Alajesty,  who, 
far  from  being  confined  to  temples  made 
with  hands,  has  heaven  for  his  throne,  and 
the  earth  for  his  footstool ; — I  took  particu- 
lar notice  of  a  handsome  altar-piece,  present- 
ed, as  I  was  afterwards  informed,  by  the 
master-builders  of  Stow;*  out  of  gratitude, 
I  presume,  to  that  gracious  God,  who  carri- 
ed them  through  their  work,  and  enabled  them 
to  "bring  forth  their  top-stone  with  joy." 

O  !  how  amiable  is  gratitude !  especially 
when  it  has  the  supreme  Benefactor  for  its 
object.  I  have  always  looked  upon  grati- 
tude, as  the  most  exalted  principle  that  can 


*  The  name  of  a  noble  seat  bclon;jing  to  the  U'.e 
Earl  of  Bath,  remarkable  formerly  lor  its  exctl.cijt 
workmanship  and  elegant  furniture;  once  the  piiiici- 
pal  resort  of  the  quality  and  gentry  of  the  wesi ;  but 
now  demolished,  laid  even  with  the  ground,  and  sciirce 
one  stone  left  upon  anothir. — So  that  corn  ir.-.y  ffow, 
or  nettlts  spring  where  Stow  Ij.tely  stood, 

B 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG   THE   TOMBS. 


actimte  the  Iie.ivt  of  man.  It  has  something 
noble,  disinterested,  and  (if  I  may  be  allow- 
ed the  term)  generously  devout.  Repen- 
tance indicates  our  nature  fallen,  and  prayer 
tiu-ns  chiefly"  upon  a  regard  to  one's  self. 
But  the  exercises  of  gratitude  subsisted  in 
j)aradise,  v.-hen  there  was  no  fault  to  dej)lore ; 
and  will  be  perpetuated  in  heaven,  when 
"  God  shall  be  all  in  all." 

The  language  of  this  sweet  temper  is,  "  I 
am  imspeakably  obliged  ;  what  return  shall 
I  make  ?" — And  surely,  it  is  no  improper 
expression  of  an  unfeigned  thankfulness  to 
decorate  our  Creator's  courts,  and  beautify 
"  the  place  where  his  honour  dwelleth."  Of 
old,  the  habitation  of  his  feet  was  glorious  ; 
let  it  not  now  be  sordid  or  contemptible.  It 
must  grieve  an  ingenious  mind,  and  be  a  re- 
proach to  any  people,  to  have  their  own 
houses  wainscotted  with  cedar,  and  painted 
with  Vermillion,  while  the  temple  of  the 
Lord  of  hosts  is  destitute  of  every  decent 
ornament. 

Here  I  recollected  and  was  charmed  with 
Solomon's  fine  address  to  the  Almighty,  at 
the  dedication  of  his  famous  tcm]5le.  With 
immense  charge,  and  exquisite  skill,  he  had 
erected  the  most  rich  and  finished  structure 
that  the  sun  ever  saw.  Yet  upon  a  review 
of  his  work,  and  a  reflection  on  the  trans- 
cendent perfections  of  the  Godhead,  how  he 
exalts  the  one,  and  abases  the  other  !  The 
building  was  too  glorious  for  the  mightiest 
monarch  to  inhabit  ;  too  sacred  for  unhal- 
lowed feet  even  to  enter,  yet  infinitely  too 
mean  for  the  Deity  to  reside  in.  It  was, 
and  the  royal  worsliipper  acknowledged  it  to 
be,  a  most  marvellous  vouchsafement  in  un- 
created excellency,  to  "  jjut  his  name  there." 
The  whole  passage  breathes  such  a  delica- 
cy, and  is  animated  A\dth  such  a  sublimity  of 
sentiment,  that  I  cannot  jjersuade  myself  to 
pass  on  without  repeating  it.  *    But  will  God 


*  1  Kings  vii.  27.  But  will. — A  fine  abrupt  begin- 
ning, most  significantly  describing  the  amazementand 
rapture  of  the  royal  prophet's  mind  ! — God :  he  uses 
no  epithets  where  writers  of  inferior  discernment 
would  have  been  foud  to  raultiplv  them  ;  but  speaks 
oi"  tlie  Deity  as  an  incomprehensible  Being,  whose  per- 
fections, and  glories  are  exalted  above  all  praise — 
Dwell:  To  bestow  on  sinful  creatures  a  propitious 
look,  to  favour  them  with  a  transient  visit  of  kindness, 
even  this  were  an  unutterable  obligation :  Will  he  then 
vouchsafe  to  fix  his  abode  among  them,  and  take  up 
his  stated  residence  with  them  ? — Indeed  ;  A  word  in 
this  connexion,  peculiarly  emphatical ;  expressive  of 
a  condescension  wonderful  and  extraordinary,  almost 
beyond  all  credibility. — Behold  :  intimating  the  con- 
tinued or  rather  the  increasing  surprise  of  the  speak- 
er, and  awakening  the  attention  of  the  hearer. — Be- 
hold !  the  heaven.  The  spacious  concave  of  the  fir- 
mament, that  wide  extended  azure  circumference,  in 
which  worlils  unnumbered  perform  their  revolutions, 
is  too  scanty  an  apartment  for  the  Godhead. — Nay  the 
heaven  of  heavens;  those  vastly  higher  tracks  which 
lie  far  beyond  the  limits  of  human  survey,  to  which 
our  very' thoughts  can  hardly  soar;  even  these  (un- 
bounded as  they  arc)  cannot  afford  an  adequate  habi- 
tation for  Jehovah  ;  even  these  dwindle  into  a  point 
when  compared  with  the  infinitude  of  his  essence  ! 
even  these  "  are  as  nothing  before  him." — How  much 
less  proportionate  is  this  poor  diminutive  speech, 
which  1  have  been  erecting  and  embellishing,  to  so 
august  a  Presence,  so  immense  a  Majesty, 


indeed  d\vell  on  earth?  Behold !  the  heaven 
and  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain  thee  ; 
how  much  less  this  house  that  I  have  build- 
ed  ? — Incomparable  saying,  worthy  the 
wisest  of  men.  \Vlio  woidd  not  choose  to 
possess  such  an  elevated  devotion,  rather 
than  to  owai  all  the  glittering  materials  of 
that  sumptuous  edifice? 

We  are  apt  to  be  struck  with  admiration 
at  the  stateliness  and  grandeur  of  a  master- 
ly performance  in  architecture,  and  perhaps,^ 
on  a  sight  of  the  ancient  sanctuary,  should 
have  made  the  superficial  observation  of  the 
disciples,  "  What  mamier  of  stones,  and  what 
buildings  are  here  !" — But  what  a  nobler 
turn  of  thought,  and  juster  taste  of  thing;* 
does  it  discover,  to  join  with  Israel's  king, 
in  celebrariiig  the  condescension  of  the  divine 
Inhabitant !  That  the  high  and  lofty  One, 
who  fills  immensity  with  his  glory,  shoidd, 
in  a  pecidiar  manner,  fix  his  abode  there  f 
shotdd  there  manifest  an  extraordinary  de- 
gree of  his  benedictive  presence  ;  permit  sin- 
ful mortals  to  approach  his  majesty,  and  pro- 
mise "  to  make  them  joyfid  in  his  house  of 
prayer!" — This  shoidd  more  sensibly  affect 
om-  hearts,  than  the  most  curious  arrange- 
ment of  stones  can  delight  our  eyes. 

Nay  the  everlasting  God  does  not  disdain 
to  dwell  in  our  soids  by  his  holy  Spirit,  and 

to  make  even  our  bodies  his  temple Tell 

me,  ye  that  frame  critical  judgments,  and  ba^ 
lance  nicely  the  distinction  of  things :  "  is 
this  most  astonishing  or  most  rejoicing  ?" — 
He  humbleth  liimself,  the  scripture  assures 
us,  even  to  behold  the  things  that  are  in 
heaven.*  It  is  a  most  condescending  fa- 
vouT,  if  HE  pleases  to  take  the  least  approv- 
ing notice  of  angels  and  archangels,  wheii^ 
they  bow  down  in  homage  from  their  celes- 
tial thrones  ;  will  he  then  graciously  regard, 
will  he  be  united,  most  intimately  united,  to 
poor,  polluted,  breathing  dust? — O  !  unpar- 
alleled honom- !  Invaluable  privilege !  Be 
this  my  portion,  and  I  shall  not  covet  crowns, 
nor  envy  conquerors. 

But  let  me  remember  what  a  sanctity  of 
disposition,  and  uprightness  of  conversatioti, 
so  exalted  a  relation  demands ;  Remember 
this,  "  and  rejoice  with  trembling." — Durst 
I  commit  any  iniquity,  while  I  tread  these 
hallowed  courts  ?  Coidd  the  Jewish  High- 
Priest  allow  himself  in  any  knowai  trans- 
gression, wliile  he  made  that  solemn  yearly 
entrance  into  the  holy  of  holies  ;f  and  stood 
before  the  immediate  presence  of  Jehovah  ? 
No,  truly.  In  such  circimistances,  a  think- 
ing person  must  shudder  at  the  most  remote 
.solicitation  to  any  wifid  offence.  I  shoidd 
now  be  shocked  at  the  least  indecency  of  be- 
haviour, and  am  apprehensive  of  every  ap- 
pearance of  ev'il.  And  why  do  we  not  car- 
ry this  holy  jealousy  into  all  our  ordinary 


*  PiaUn  exii.  G. 


t  Heb.  ix.  7 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE   TOMBS. 


3 


life  ?  Why  do  we  not  in  every  place  rever- 
ence ourselvos  ;*  as  persons  dedicated  to  the 
Divinity,  as  living  temples  of  the  Godhead  ? 
P^or,  if  we  arc  real,  and  not  merely  nominal 
Christians,  the  God  of  y;lory,  according  to 
Lis  own  promise,  dwells  in  us,  and  v.alks  in 
usf — O  !  that  this  one  doctiine  of  our  reli- 
gion might  operate,  with  an  abiding  eflicacy, 
upon  our  consciences ;  it  would  be  instead 
of  a  thousand  laws  to  regidate  oiu"  conduct ; 
instead  of  a  thousand  motives  to  quicken  us  in 
Lis  holiness.  Under  the  influence  of  such  a 
connction,  we  should  study  to  maintain  a 
purity  of  intention  ;  a  dignity  of  action  ;  and 
to  walk  worthy  of  that  transcendently  ma- 
jestic Being,  who  admits  us  to  a  fellowship 
with  Limseif,  and  with  his  Son  Jesus 
Christ. 

The  next  thing  which  engaged  my  atten- 
tion, was  the  lettered  floor :  the  pavement 
somewhat  like  Ezekiel's  roll,  was  written 
over  from  one  end  to  the  other.  I  soon  per- 
ceived the  comparison  to  hold  good  in  ano- 
ther respect ;  and  the  inscriptions  to  be  mat- 
ter of  "  mourning,  lamentation,  and  woe."| 
They  seemed  to  comt  my  observation  ;  si- 
lently inviting  me  to  read  them And  what 

would  these  dumb  monitors  inform  me  of? 
— "  That  beneath  their  little  circumfcrer.ces 
were  deposited  such  and  such  pieces  of  clay, 
which  once  lived,  and  moved,  and  talked  ; 
that  they  had  received  a  charge  to  ])reserve 
their  names,  and  were  the  remaining  trustees 
of  their  memoiy." 

Ah  !  said  I,  is  such  my  situation  ?  The 
adorable  Creator  around  me,  and  the  bones 
of  my  fellow  creatures  under  me  !  Surely, 
then,  I  Lave  great  reason  to  cry  out,  with 
the  reveling  patriarch.  How  dreadfid  is  this 
place  !]|  Seriousness  and  devotion  become 
this  house  for  ever :  May  I  never  enter  it 
lightly  or  irreverently  ;  but  with  a  profound 
awe,  and  godly  fear  ! 

Oh  !  that  they  were  wise  :  §  said  the  in- 
spired penman.  It  was  his  last  wish  for  his 
dear  people  ;  he  breathed  it  out,  and  gave  up 
the  ghost But  what  is  wisdom  ?  It  con- 
sists not  in  refined  speculations,  accurate  re- 
searches into  nature,  or  an  imiversal  acquaint- 
ance with  histoiy.  The  divine  lawgiver  set- 
tles this  important  point  in  his  next  aspira- 
tion :  Oh  !  that  they  understood  this  !  That 
they  had  right  apprehensions  of  their  spiritual 
interests,  and  eternal  concerns  !  that  they  had 
eyes  to  discern,  and  inclinations  to  pursue 


*  PANTAN  DE    MALIS   AISCHIITREO   SE 

AVTON ,  was  the  favourite  maxim  of  Pythagoras,  and 
supposed  to  be  one  of  the  btst  moral  precepts  ever 
given  to  the  Heathen  world.  With  what  superior 
force,  and  very  singular  advantage,  does  the  argument 
take  place  in  the  Christian  Scheme  !  where  we  are 
taught  to  regard  ourselves,  not  merely  as  intellectual 
beings,  that  have  reason  for  our  monitor,  but  as  con- 
secrated creatures,  wlio  have  a  God  of  the  most  con- 
siuiuiiate  perfection  ever  wiUi  us,  ever  in  us. 

t  2  Chron.  vi.  lo.  t  Kzek.  ii.  10. 

1  Gen.  xxviu.  l/-  §  Deut.  xxx.  29. 


the  things  which  belong  to  their  jjcace  I  — 
But  how  shall  they  attain  this  valuable  know- 
ledge ?  I  send  them  not,  adds  the  illustrious 
teacher,  to  turn  over  all  the  volumes  of  litefr 
ature  :  they  may  acfiiiire,  and.  much  more 
expeditiously,  this  scene  of  life,  by  consider- 
ing their  latter  end.  This  spark  of  heaven 
is  often  lost  under  the  glitter  of  pompous 
erudition,  but  sliines  clearly  in  the  gloomy 
mansions  of  the  tomb.  Drowmed  in  this  gen- 
tle whisper  amidst  the  noise  of  mortal  affairs, 
but  speaks  distinctly  in  the  retirements  of 
serious  contemplation — Behold  !  Low  provi- 
dentially I  am  brought  to  the  school  of  wis- 
dom !.*  The  grave  is  the  most  faithful  mas- 
ter ;f  and  these  instances  of  mortality,  the 

most  instructive  lessons Come  then  calm 

attention,  and  compose  my  thoughts  :  come, 
thou  celestial  Spirit,  and  enlighten  my  mind ; 
that  I  may  so  peruse  these  awful  pages,  as 
to  "  become  ^\^se  unto  salvation." 

Examining  the  records  of  mortality,  I 
found  the  memorials  of  a  promiscuous  mul- 
titude.! They  were  huddled,  at  least  they 
rested  together,  without  any  regard  to  rank 
or  seniority.  None  were  ambitious  of  the 
uppermost  rooms,  or  chief  seats  in  this  house 
of  momiiing.  None  entertained  fond  and 
eager  expectations  of  being  honourably  greet- 
ed in  their  darksome  cells.  The  man  of 
years  and  experience,  reputed  as  an  oracle  in 
his  generation,  was  content  to  lie  down  at 
the  feet  of  a  babe.  In  this  house  appointed 
for  all  living,  the  servant  was  equally  accom- 
modated, and  lodged  in  the  same  stoiy  with 
his  master.  The  poor  indigent  lay  as  soft- 
ly, and  slept  as  somidly,  as  the  most  opulent 
possessor.  All  the  distinction  that  subsist- 
ed, was  a  grassy  hillock,  boun-d  witL  osiers  ; 
or  a  sepulclirai  stone  ornamented  with  im- 
agery. 

Why  then,  said  my  working  thoughts, 
Oh  !  why  should  we  raise  such  a  mighty 
stir  about  superiority  and  precedence,  when 
the  next  remove  will  reduce  us  all  to  a  state 
of  equal  meanness  ?  Why  shoidd  we  exalt 
ourselves,  or  debase  others  ;  since  we  must 
all  one  day  be  upon  a  common  level,  and 
blended  together  in  the  same  undistinguished 
dust  ?  Oh  !  that  this  consideration  might 
humble  my  o\\7i  and  other's  pride ;  and  sink 
our  imaginations  as  low  as  our  habitation 
will  shortly  be ! 

Among  these  confused  rtlics  of  humanity, 
there  are  without  doubt,  persons  of  contrary 
interests,  and  contradicting  sentiments  :  But 


*  The  man  who  wise,  who  sick  of  gaudy  sceaes. 
Is  led  by  choice  to  take  his  fav'rite  walk 
Beneath  death's  gloomy,  silent,  cypress  shades, 
Uupicrc'd  by  vanity's  fantastic  ray  ! 
To  read  his  monuments,  to  weigh  his  dust, 
Visit  his  vaults,  and  dwell  among  the  tombs ! 

Mght  ThuunMs. 

t  Wait  the  great  teacher,  death.  i'upe. 

X  Jlistasenumac  juvenum  densantur  funerr.. 

Hit 


:Mf:L)ITATIOXS  AMONG  T[IE  TOMBS. 


•ieath,  like  some  able  days-man,  has  laid  his 
hands  on  the  contending  parties,  and  brought 
all  their  differences  to  an  amicable  conclu- 
sion.* Here  enemies,  sworn  enemies,  dwell 
together  in  unity.  They  drop  every  embit- 
tered thought,  and  forget  that  they  once  were 
foes.  Perhaps  their  crumbling  bones  mix 
as  they  moulder  ;  and  those  ^\■'ho,  while  they 
lived,  stood  .doof  in  irreconcilable  variance, 
here  fall  into  mutual  embraces,  and  even  in- 
corporate with  each  other  in  the  grave — 
Oh  !  that  we  might  learn  from  these  friend- 
ly ashes,  not  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of 
injuries ;  not  to  foment  the  fever  of  resent- 
ment ;  nor  cherish  the  turbulence  of  pas- 
sion ;  that  there  may  be  as  little  animosity 
and  disagreement  in  the  land  of  the  living 
as  there  is  in  the  congregation  of  the  dead  ! 
— But  I  suspend  for  a  while  such  general 
obsen-ations,  ami  address  myself  to  a  more' 
particidar  inquiry. 

Yonder  white  stone,  emblem  of  the  inno- 
cence it  covers,  informs  the  beholder  of  one, 
who  breathed  out  its  tender  soul  almost  in 
the  instant  of  receiving  it.  There  the  peace- 
fid  infant,  without  so  much  as  knowing  what 
iaboiu-  and  vexation  mean,f  "  lies  still  and 
is  quiet ;  it  sleeps,  and  is  at  rest."  Staying 
only  to  wash  away  its  native  impiu-ity  in  the 
laver  of  regeneration,  it  bid  a  speedy  adieu 
to  time  and  terrestrial  things — \VTiat  did  the 
little  hast}'  sojourner  find,  so  forbidding  and 
disgustful  in  our  upper  world,  to  occasion  its 
precipitant  exit?  It  is  written,  indeed,  of  its 
suffering  Saviour,  that  when  he  had  tasted 
the  vinegar  mingled  with  gall,  he  would  not 
drink  : \  And  did  our  new comestranger be- 
gin to  sip  the  cup  of  life  ;  but  perceiving  the 
bitterness,  turn  away  its  head,  and  refuse  the 
draught  ?  Was  this  the  cause  why  the  wary 
babe  only  opened  its  eyes ;  just  looked  on 
the  light ;  and  then  withdrew  into  the  more 
inviting  regions  of  undisturbed  repose  ? 

Happy  voyager ;  no  sooner  launched,  than 
arris'ed  at  the  haven.  § — But  more  eminently 
happy  they,  who  have  passed  the  waves  and 
weathered  all  the  storms  of  a  troublesome 
and  dangerous  world  ;  who,  "  tlirough  many 
tribulations  have  entered  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven  ;"  and  thereby  brought  honour  to 
their  di\'ine  Convoy,  administered  comfort 
to  the  companions  of  their  toil,  and  left  an 
instructive  example  to  succeeding  pilgrims. 

Highly  favoured  probationer  !  accepted 
without  being  exercised !  It  was  thy  pecu- 
liar privilege  not  to  feel  the  slightest  of  those 


•  Hi  motus  animorum,  atque  htec  certamina  tanta, 

Pulveris  cxigui  jactu  compressa  quiescent. 

J'irg. 

t  Job.  iii.  la 

i  Matt,  xxvii.  34. 

5  Happy  the  babe,  who  privilep'd  by  fate 
To  shorter  labour  and  a  bghtcr  weight, 
Heceiv'il  but  yesterday  the  gift  of  breath ; 
Oriler'J  tomorrow  to  return  to  death. 

Prior's  3ol. 


evils  which  op])ress  thy  sun'iving  kindjvd  r 
which  frequently  fetch  groans  from  the  most 
manly  fortitude,  or  most  elevated  faith  ;  the 
arrows  of  calamity,  barbed  with  anguish,  are 
often  fixed  deep  in  our  choicest  comforts. 
The  fiery  darts  of  temptation,  shot  from  the 
hand  of  hell,  are  always  tl\'ing  in  showers 
around  oiu-  integrity.  To  thee,  sweet  babe, 
both  these  distresses  and  dangers  were  alike 
unknown. 

Consider  this,  ye  mourning  parents,  and 
dry  up  your  tears.  Why  should  you  lament 
that  your  little  ones  are  crov/ned  with  vic- 
tory, before  the  sword  was  dra^^'n,  or  the  con- 
flict begun  ? — Perhaps  the  supreme  disposer 
of  events  foresaw  some  inevitable  snare  of 
temptation  forming,  or  some  di-eadful  stonii 
of  adversity  impending.  And  why  shoidi 
you  be  so  dissatisfied  with  that  kind  pre- 
caution, Avhich  housed  your  pleasant  plant, 
and  removed  into  shelter  a  tender  flower,  be- 
fore the  thunders  roared ;  before  the  liglit- 
nings  flew ;  before  the  tempest  poured  it;i 
rage  ? — O  remember,  they  are  not  lost,  but 
taken  away  from  the  evil  to  come.* 

At  the  same  time  let  sundvors,  doomed 
to  bear  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day,  lor 
their  encouragement,  reflect — that  it  is  more 
honourable  to  have  entered  the  lists,  and  to 
have  fought  the  good  fight  before  they  couic 
off  conquerors.  They  who  have  borne  ths; 
cross,  and  submitted  to  afilictive  provi 
dences,  with  a  cheerful  resignation,  hava 
girded  up  the  loins  of  their  mind,  and  per, 
formed  their  Master's  will,  with  an  honest 
and  persevering  fidelity  ; — these,  having  glo- 
rified their  Redeemer  on  earth,  will  ])roba- 
bly  be  as  stars  of  the  first  magnitude  in 
heaven.  They  will  shine  with  bi'ighter 
beams,  be  replenished  with  stronger  joys,  in 
their  Lord's  everlasting  kingdom. 

Here  lies  the  grief  of  a  fond  mother,  and 
the  blasted  expectation  of  an  indidgent  far 
ther — -The  youth  grew  up  like  a  well  wa- 
tered plant :  he  shot  deej),  rose  high,  and 
bid  fair  for  manhood;  but  just  as  the  cedar 
began  to  tower,  and  promised  ere  long  to  be 
the  pride  of  the  wood,  and  prince  among 
the  neighbouring  trees  : — behold  the  axe  is 
laid  imto  the  root ;  the  fatal  blow  struck  ; 
and  all  its  brandling  honours  tumbled  to  tht 
dust, — and  did  he  faD  alone  ?  No  :  the  hopes 
of  his  father  that  begat  him,  and  the  plea^- 
sing  prospects  of  her  that  bare  him,  fell,  and 
were  crushed  together  with  him. 

Doubtless,  it  woidd  have  pierced  one's 
heart  to  have  beheld  the  tender  parents  fol- 
lowing the  breathless  youth  to  his  long  home, 
perhaps  drowned  in  tears,  and  all  overwhelm- 
ed with  sorrows,  they  stood  like  weeping 
statues,  on  tliis  very  spot, — methinks,  I  see 
the  deeply  distressed  mourners  attending  the 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  TiiE  TOMBS.' 


5*3  Rolerniiity  ;  liow  they  wring  their  hands, 
afid  pour  floods  from  tlieir  eyes  ! — -Is  it  fan- 
cy ?  or  do  I  roiiliy  hear  the  passionate  mo- 
ther, in  an  ac^ony  of  Rfliiction,  takinj:;  her  li- 
nal  leave  of  the  darling  of  her  sonl  i  Dumb 
she  remained,  M'hile  the  fiwfnl  obsequies 
Were  performing  ;  dumb  with  grief,  and 
Iraiiing  upon  tlie  partner  of  her  woes.  But 
now  the  inward  anguish  struggles  for  vent ; 
it  grows  too  big  to  be  repressed.  She  ad- 
vanees  to  the  brink  of  the  grave.  All  her 
soul  is  in  her  eyes.  She  fastens  one  look 
more  upon  the  dear  dolcfid  object,  before 
the  pit  shuts  its  mouth  u])on  him,  and  as 
she  looks  she  cries ; — in  broken  accents,  in- 
terrupted by  many  a  rising  sob,  she  cries  ; 
— "  Farewell,  my  son  !  my  son  1  my  only  be- 
loved !  Would  to  God  I  had  died  for  thee  ! 
—Farewell  my  child  !  and  farewell,  all  my 
esirthly  happiness — I  shall  never  more  see 

good  in  the  land  of  the  living Attempt 

not  to  comfort  me I  will  go  mourning  all 

my  days,  till  my  gray  hairs  come  down  with 
sorrow  to  the  grave." 

From  this  affecting  representation,  let 
p-areats  be  convinced  how  higldy  it  concerns 
them  to  cultivate  the  morals,  and  seciu'e  the 
immortal  interests  of  their  children.  If  you 
really  love  the  offspring  of  your  own  bodies  ; 
if  your  bowels  yearn  over  those  amiable 
jdedges  of  conjugal  endearment ;  spare  no 
}Xiins,  give  all  diligence  ;  I  entreat  yoii  to 
"  bring  them  up  in  the  nurture  and  admoni- 
tion of  the  Lord."  Then  may  you  have 
joy  in  their  life,  or  consolation  in  their  death. 
If  their  span  is  prolonged,  their  unblama- 
ble and  usefid  conduct  will  be  the  staff  of 
your  age,  and  a  balm  for  declining  nature. 
Or,  if  the  number  of  their  years  be  cut  off  in 
tJie  midst,  you  may  comn'.it  their  remains  to 
the  dust,  with  much  the  same  comfortable 
espectations,  and  with  infinitely  more  exalt- 
ed views,  than  you  send  the  survivors  to 
places  of  genteel  education.  You  may  com- 
mit tliem  to  the  dust  with  cheering  hopes  of 
receiving  them  again  to  yom-  arms,  inexpres- 
sibly improved  in  every  noble  and  endearing 
accomplishment. 

It  is  certainly  a  severe  trial,  and  much 
more  afllictive  than  I  am  able  to  imagine,  to 
resign  a  lovely  blooming  creature,  sprung 
from  your  own  loins,  to  the  gloomy  recesses 
of  corruption.  Thus  to  resign  him  after 
liaving  been  long  dandled  upon  your  knees, 
united  to  your  affections  by  a  thousand  ties 
of  tenderness,  and  now  become  both  the  de- 
light of  your  eyes,  and  the  support  of  your 
family  ! — to  have  such  a  one  torn  from  your 
bosom,  and  thrown  into  darkness,  doubtless 
it  must  be  \\kc  a  dagger  in  your  hearts, — 
But,  O !  how  much  more  cutting  to  you, 
and  confounding  to  the  child,  to  have  the 
soul  sej)arate(l  from  (Jod  ;  and  for  shameful 
ignorance  or  early  impiety  consigned  over  to 
places  of  eternal  torment!     ilow  would  it, 


aggravate  your  distress,  and  add  a  districting 
emphasis  to  all  your  sighs,  if  you  should  fol- 
low the  pale  corpse  with  these  bitter  reflec- 
tions ! — "  This  dear  creature,  tliough  long 
ago  capable  of  knowing  good  from  evil,  is 
gone  out  of  the  world  before  it  had  learned 
the  great  design  of  coming  into  it.  A  short- 
lived, momentary  existence  it  received  from 
me :  but  no  good  instructions,  no  holy  ad- 
monitions, nothing  to  further  its  well-being 
in  that  everlasting  state,  upon  which  it  is 
now  entered.  The  poor  body  is  consigned 
to  the  coffin,  and  carried  out  to  consume 
away  in  the  cold  and  silent  grave.  And 
what  reason  have  I  to  suppose  that  the  pre- 
cious soul  is  in  a  better  condition  ?  May  I 
not  justly  fear,  that,  sentenced  by  the  righte- 
ous Judge,  it  is  going,  or  gone  away  into  the 
pains  of  endless  punishment  ! — Perhaps, 
while  I  am  bewailing  its  untimely  departure, 
it  may  be  cursing  in  utter  darkness,  that  ever 
to  be  deplored,  that  most  calamitous  day, 
when  it  was  born  of  such  a  cai'eless  ungodly 
parent  as  I  have  been." 

Nothing,  I  think,  but  the  gnawings  of 
that  worm  which  never  dies,  can  equal  the 
anguish  of  these  self-condemning  thoughts. 
The  tortm-es  of  a  rack  must  be  an  easy  suf- 
fering compared  with  the  stings  and  horror 

of  such  a  remorse How  earnestly   do   I 

wish  that  as  many  as  are  entrusted  \vith  the 
management  of  children,  would  take  timely 
care  to  prevent  these  intolerable  scourges  of 
conscience,  by  endeavouring  to  conduct  their 
mnids  into  an  early  knowledge  of  Christ, 
and  a  cordial  love  of  his  tnith  ! 

On  this  hand  is  lodged  one  whose  sepid- 
chral  stone  tells  a  most  pitiable  tale  indeed  I 
Well  may  the  little  images,  reclined  over  the 
sleeping  ashes,  hang  down  their  heads  with 
that  pensive  air  !  None  can  consider  so 
mournful    a    story    without    feeling    some 

touches  of  sympathizing  concern His  age 

twenty-eight ;  his  death  sudden  ;  himself  cut 
downi  in  the  prime  of  life,  amidst  all  the  vi- 
vacity and  vigour  of  manhood,  while  "  his 
breasts  were  full  of  milk,  and  his  bones 
moistened  with  marrow." — Probably  he  en- 
tertained no  apprehensions  of  the  evil  hour. 
And  indeed,  who  could  have  susi)ected  that 
so  bright  a  sun  should  go  down  at  noon  ? 
To  human  appearance,  his  hill  stood  strong. 
Length  of  days  seemed  written  in  his  san- 
guine countenance.  He  solaced  himself 
with  the  prospect  of  a  long,  long  series  of 
earthly  satisfactions When  lo  !  an  unex- 
pected stroke  descends  !  descends  from  that 
mighty  arm,  v,-hich  "  ovcrturneth  the  moun- 
tains by  their  roots  ;  and  crushes  the  ima- 
ginary hero,  before  the  moth  ;"*  as  quick- 


*  Job  iv.  19.- 


-Ad  instar,  ad  modum,  tina 


I  retain  this  interpretation,  both  as  it  is  mostsuit- 
able  to  my  purpose,  and  as  it  is  patronized  by  nome 
oniiiient  commentators ;  especially  the  celebrated 
Sch-iiltens.    Thoiigli  i  cannot  but  give  Uie  preference 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE   TOMBS. 


ly,  and  more  easily,  than  our  fingers  press 
sHch  a  feeble  fluttering  insect  to  death. 

Perhaps  the  nuptial  joys  were  all  he 
thought  on.  Were  not  such  the  breathings 
of  his  enamoured  soul  ?  "  Yet  a  very  little 
while,  and  I  shall  possess  the  utmost  of  my 
wishes.  I  shall  call  my  charmer  mine ;  and 
in  her  enjoy  whatever  my  heart  can  crave." — 
In  the  midst  of  such  enchanting  views,  had 
some  faithful  friend  but  softly  reminded  him 
of  an  opening  grave,  and  the  end  of  all 
tilings  ;  how  unseasonable  would  he  have 
reckoned  the  admonition  !  Yet,  though  all 
warm  wth  life,  and  rich  in  visionary  bliss, 
be  was  even  tlien  tottering  upon  the  brink  of 
both." — Dreadful  \'icissitude  !  to  have  the 
bridal*  festivity  turned  into  the  funeral  so- 
lemnity. Deplorable  misfortune  !  to  be  ship- 
wrecked in  the  very  haven !  and  to  perish 
even  in  sight  of  happiness ! — What  a  me- 
morable proof  is  here  of  the  fraility  of  man, 
in  his  best  estate !  Look,  O,  look  on  this 
monument,  ye  gay  and  careless  ?  Attend 
to  this  date ;  and  boast  no  more  of  to-mor- 
row ! 

Who  can  teU,  but  the  bride-maids,  girded 
with  gladness,  had  prepared  the  marriage- 
bed  !  had  decked  it  with  the  richest  covers, 
and  dressed  it  in  pillows  of  do^vn  ?  When, 
-^Oh !  trust  not  in  youth  or  strength,  or  in 
sniy  thing  mortal !  for  there  is  nothing  cer- 
tain, nothing  to  be  depended  on,  beneath  the 
unchangeable  God. — Death,  relentless  death, 
is  making  him  another  kind  of  bed  in  the 
dust  of  the  earth.  Unto  this  he  mv.st  be 
conveyed,  not  ■with  a  splendid  procession  of 
joyous  attendants  :  but  stretched  in  the 
gloomy  hearse,  and  followed  by  a  train  of 
mourners.  On  this  he  must  take  up  a  lone- 
ly lodging,  nor  ever  be  released,  till  "  the 
heavens  are  no  more." — In  vain  does  the  con- 
senting fair  one  put  on  her  omaments  and 
expect  her  spouse.  Did  she  not,  like  Si- 
sera's  mother,  look  out  of  the  lattice  ;  chide 
the  delay  of  her  beloved ;  and  wonder  "  M'hy 
his  chariot  was  so  long  in  coming  ?"     Dit- 


to the  opinion  of  a  judicious  friend,  who  would  rpn- 
der  the  passage  more  literally,  "  Before  the  face  of  a 
moth,"  making  it  to  represent  a  creature  so  exceed- 
ingly frail,  that  even  a  moth  flying  against  it  may 
dash  it  to  pieces. — Which  besides  its  closer  correspon- 
dence witn  the  exact  import  of  the  Hebrew,  presents 
us  with  amuch  finer  image  of  the  most  extreme  imbe- 
cility. For  it  certainly  implies  a  far  greater  degree  of 
weakness,  to  be  crushed  by  the  feeble  flutter  of  the 
feeblest  creature,  than  only  to  be  as  easily  crushed  as 
that  creature,  by  the  hand  of  man. — The  French  ver- 
sion is  very  expressive  and  beautiful,  a  la  rencontre 
d'un  vennisseau. 

*  A  distress  of  this  kind  is  painted  in  ver^'  affecting 
colours,  by  Pliny,  in  an  epistle  to  Mercellinus:  O 
triste  plane  acerbumque  funus  ?  O  morte  ipsa  mortis 
tcmpus  indignius  !  Jam  destinata  erat  egregio  juveni, 
jam  electus  nuptiarum  dies;  jam  nos  advocati.  Quod 
gaudium  quo  moerore  mutatum  est  !  Non  possum 
expirmere  verbis,  quantum  animo  vulnus  acceperim 
(luum  audivi  Fundanum  ipsum  (ut  multa  luctuosa 
dolor  invenit)  praecipientim,  quod  in  vestes,  mar- 
ganitas,  gemmas,  ftierat  erogaturus,  hoc  in  thura,  at 
unituenta,  et  odores,  impenderctus. 

rtiii.  lAb.  V.  Kpist.  26 


tie  thinking,  that  the  intended  bridegroom  . 
had  for  ever  done  wath  transitory  things : 
that  now  everlasting  cares  employ  his  mind,  . 
without  one  single  remembrance  of  his 
lovely  Lucinda ! — Go,  disappointed  virgin  ! 
go,  mourn  the  uncertainty  of  aU  created 
bliss  ?  Teach  thy  soid  to  aspire  after  a  siu"e 
and  immutable  felicity !  For  the  once  gay 
and  gallant  Fidelio  sleeps  in  other  embraces, 
even  in  the  icy  arms  of  death !  forgetful, 
eternally  forgetful,  of  the  world — and  thee. 
Hitherto  one  is  tempted  to  exclaim  against 
the  king  of  terrors,  and  call  him  capricious- 
ly cruel.  He  seems,  by  beginning  at  the 
\\Tong  end  of  the  register,  to  have  inverted 
the  laws  of  nature.  Passing  over  the  couch 
of  decrepit  age,  he  has  nipped  infancy  in  its  . 
bud  ;  blasted  youth  in  its  bloom  ;  and  torn  up 
manhood  in  its  full  maturity Terrible  in- 
deed are  these  providences,  yet  not  unsearch- 
able the  counsels ; 

For  us  they  sicken,  and  for  us  they  die.* 

Such  strokes  must  not  only  grieve  the  rela- 
tives, but  surprise  the  whole  neighbourhood. 
They  sound  a  powerfid  alarm  to  heedlesa 
dreaming  mortals,  and  are  intended  as  a  re- 
medy for  our  carnal  security.  Such  pass- 
ing bells  incidcate  loudly  our  Lord's  admo- 
nition :  "  Take  ye  heed  ;  watch,  and  pray  ; 
for  ye  know  not  when  the  time  is." — We 
nod  like  intoxicated  creatiu'es,  upon  t!ie  very 
verge  of  a  tremendous  precipice.  These 
astonishing  dispensations  are  the  kind  mes- 
sengers of  heaven,  to  rouse  us  from  our 
supineness,  and  quicken  us  into  timely  cir- 
cumspection. I  need  not  surely  accommo- 
date them  with  language,  nor  act  as  their 
interpreter.  Let  every  one's  conscience  be 
awake,  and  this  will  appear  their  an-ful 
meaning  : — "  O  ye  sons  of  men,  in  the 
midst  of  life  you  are  in  death.  No  state, 
no  circumstances,  can  ascertain  your  preser- 
vation a  single  moment.  So  strong  is  the 
tyrant's  arm,  that  nothing  can  resist  its 
force  ;  so  true  his  aim,  that  Tiothing  can 
elude  the  blow.  Sudden  as  lightning,  some- 
times is  his  arrow  launched :  and  woimds 
and  kills  in  the  t\\'inkling  of  an  eye.  Never 
promise  yourself  safety  in  an  expedient  but 
constant  preparation.  The  fatal  shafts  fly  so 
promiscuously,  that  none  can  guess  the  next 
victim.  Therefore,  "  be  ye  always  ready  ;  for 
in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think  not,  the  final 
summons  cometh." 

Be  ye  always  ready  ;  for  in  such  an  hour 
as  ye  think  not.  Important  admonition ! 
Methinks  it  reverberates  from  sepidchre  to 
sepulchre ;  and  addresses  me  wth  line  upon 
line,  precept  upon  precept.  The  reiterated 
warning,  I  acknowledge,  is  too  needful ;  may 
co-operating  grace  render  it  effectual !    The 


»  Night  Thoughts. 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


«itn>rilentous  trutli,  thoui^h  woilliy  to  be  en- 
tp'fivcd  on  the  tables  of  a  most  tenacious  me^ 
tnory,  is  but  slightly  sketrlied  on  tlie  tran- 
sient flow  of  passion.  We  sec  oxir  neigh- 
l)ours  fall,  we  turn  pale  at  the  shock ;  and 
feel,  perhaps,  a  trembling  dread.  No  soon- 
vr  are  they  removed  from  our  sight,  but 
•driven  in  the  whirl  of  bnsiness,  or  kdled  in 
the  languors  of  pleasiu'c,  yve  forget  the  pro- 
vidence, and  neglect  its  errand.  Tlie  im- 
pression niade  on  our  unstable  minds,  is  like 
the  trace  of  an  arrow  through  the  penetrat- 
ed air,  or  the  path  of  a  keel  in  the  furrowed 
wave.  Strange  stupidity  I  To  cure  it,  ano- 
ther monitor  bespeaks  me,  from  a  neighbom- 
ing  stone.  It  contains  the  narrative  of  an 
nnhappy  mortal,  snatched  from  his  friends, 
and  hmried  to  the  awfid  bar ;  witliout  leisirrc, 
t'ither  to  take  a  last  farewell  of  the  one,  or 
to  put  up  so  much  as  a  single  prayer  prejia- 
ratory  for  tlie  other  ;  killed,  accoi-ding  to  tlie 
4isnal  expression,  by  a  sudden  stroke  of  casu- 
alty. 

Was  it  then  a  random  blow  ?  Doubtless 
the  stroke  came  from  an  aiming,  though  in- 
visible liiir.d.  God  prcsideth  over  the  ar- 
mies of  heaven  ;  God  ruleth  among  the  in- 
liabitants  of  the  eartli ;  and  God  conductcth 
what  men  call  chance.  Nothing,  nothing 
comes  to  ])ass  through  a  blind  and  inidis- 
ceming  fiitality.  If  accidents  happen,  they 
happen  according  to  the  exact  foreknow- 
ledge, and  conformably  to  the  determinate 
counsels  of  eternal  wisdom.  The  Lord, 
with  whom  arc  the  issues  of  death,  signs  the 
v/arrant,  and  gives  the  high  commission. 
The  seemingly  fortuitous  disaster,  is  only 
the  agent,  or  the  instrument  appointed  to  ex- 
<ecute  the  supreme  decree.  When  the  im- 
pious monarch  was  mortally  wounded,  it 
seemed  to  be  a  casual  shot.  A  certain  man 
drew  a  bow  at  a  venture.* — At  a  venture  as 
he  thought.  Uut  his  hand  was  strengthen- 
ed by  an  omnipotent  aid,  and  the  shaft  le- 
velled by  an  imcrring  eye.  So  that  what  we 
term  casualty,  is  really  providence,  accom- 
plishing deliberate  designs,  but  concealing  its 
own  interposition. — How  comforting  tliis 
reflection  !  Admirably  adapted  to  soothe  the 
throbbing  anguish  of  the  mourners,  and  com- 
pose their  spirits  into  a  quiet  submission  ! 
Excellently  suited  to  dissipate  the  fears  of 
godly  survivors  and  create  a  ciilm  intrepidity 
«ven  amidst  iiiinnnerable  perils  ! 

How  tlnn  is  tlie  partition  between  tliis 
world  and  another  !  How  short  the  transi- 
tion from  time  to  eternity  '  Tlie  partition 
nothing  more  than  the  breath  in  our  nos- 
trils ;  and  the  transition  may  be  made  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye. — Poor  C'hrcumylus,  I 
remember,  arose  from  tlie  diversions  of  a 
card-table,  and  dropt  into  the  dwellings  of 


!  Kings  xxii.  'Vt. 


darkness.  One  night  Corinna  was  all  gaie- 
ty in  her  spirits,  all  finery  in  her  apparel,  at 
a  magnificent  ball.  The  next  night,  she 
lay  pale  and  stiff,  an  extended  coi-pse,  and 
ready  to  Ix;  mingled  with  the  mouldering 
dead.  Young  Atticus  lived  to  see  his  am- 
I)le  and  connnodious  seat  completed,  but  not 
to  spend  one  joyous  hour  under  the  stately 
roof.  The  sashes  were  hung  to  admit  the 
day  ;  but  tlie  master's  eyes  were  closed  in  end- 
less night.  The  apartments  were  furnished 
to  afford  refreshment  or  invite  repose  ;  but 
their  lord  rests  in  the  more  peaceful  cham- 
bers of  the  tomb.  The  gardens  were  plan- 
ned, and  a  thousand  elegant  decorations  de- 
signed ;  but,  alas !  their  intended  possessor 
is  gone  down  to  "  the  place  of  skulls  ;"  is 
gone  down  to  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death. 

Wliile  I  am  recollecting,  many,  I  question 
TiOt,  are  experiencing  the  same  tragicid  vicis- 
situde. The  eyes  of  that  sublime  Being — 
Who  sits  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth,  and 
views  all  its  inhabitants  with  one  compre- 
hensive glance — even  now  behold  many  tents 
in  affliction  ;  such  affliction  as  overwhelm- 
ed the  Eg}-ptians  in  that  fatal  night,  when 
the  destroying  angel  sheathed  his  arrows  in 
all  the  pride  of  their  strength Some  sink- 
ing to  the  floor  from  their  easy  chair ;  and 
deaf  even  to  the  most  piercing  shrieks  of 
their  distracted  relations. — Some  gi\ing  up 
the  ghost,  as  they  sit  retired,  or  lie  reclined 
under  the  shady  arboiu"  to  taste  the  sweets 
of  the  flowery  scene Some  as  they  saij,  as- 
sociated with  a  party  of  pleasure,  along  the 
dancing  stream,  and  through  tire  laughing 
meads.  Nor  is  the  grim  intruder  mollified 
though  wine  and  music  flow  around.  Some 
intercepted  as  they  are  returning  home  ;  and 
some  iiiternipted,  as  they  enter  upon  an  im- 
portant negotiation Some    arrested    with 

the  gain  of  injustice  in  their  hands:  and 
some  surprised  in  the  very  act  of  lewdness, 
or  the  attempt  of  cnielty. 

Legions,  legions  of  disasters,  such  as  no 
jirudence  can  foresee,  and  no  care  ]irevent. 
He  in  wait  to  accomplish  our  doom.  A 
starting  horse  may  throw  his  rider ;  may  at 
once  dash  his  body  against  t!ie  stones,  and 
fling  his  soul  into  the  invisible  world.  A 
stack  of  chimneys  may  tumble  into  the  street, 
and  crush  the  unv.'aiy  passenger  under  the 
ruins  :  even  a  single  tile,  drojiping  from  the 
roof,  may  be  as  fatal  as  the  fall  of  the  whole 
structure — So  frail,  so  veiy  attenuated  is 
the  thread  of  life,  tliat  it  not  only  bursts  be- 
fore the  storm,  but  breaks  even  at  a  breeze. 
The  most  common  occurrences,  those  from 
v.'liich  we  suspect  not  the  least  harm,  may 
prove  the  weapons  of  our  destruction.  A 
grape-stone,  a  despicable  fly,  may  be  more 
nun  ti:i  than  Goliath,  with  all  his  fonnidahlo 
armour.  Nay,  if  God  give  comiiKUid,  oin- 
very  comforU  become  killing.      Tiie  ai>-  we 


8 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


breathe,  is  our  bane  !  and  the  food  we  eat, 
the  vehicle  of  death That  hist  enemy  has 

■  unnumbered  avenues  fur  his  approach  :  yea, 
lies  entrenched  in  our  verj'  bosom,  and  holds 
his   fortress   in  the   seat  of  our  life.      The 

•crimson  fluid,  which  distributes  health,  is 
impregnated  with  the  seeds  of  death.*  Heat 
may  inflame  it,  or  toil  oppress  it,  and  make 

'it. destroy  the  parts  it  was  designed  to  cher- 

•ish.  Some  unseen  impediment  may  obstruct 
its  passage,  or  some  unkTlo^\^l  violence  may 
divert  its  course  :   in  either  of  which  case  it 

•acts  the  part  of  a  poisonous  draught,  or  a 
deadly  stab. 

Ah  !  in  what  perils  is  vain  life  en^n.'^'d ! 

^Vhat  sliftht  neglects,  what  trivia!  faults  destro-y 

The  hardiest  frame !  of  indolence,  of  toil, 

We  die ;  of  want,  of  superfluity. 

The  all  surrounding  heaven,  the  vital  air, 

Is  big  with  death. 

Since  then  we  are  so  liable  to  be  dispossess- 
ed of  this  eartlily  tabernacle,  let  us  look  upon 
ourselves  only  as  tenants  at  ■will ;  and  hold 
ourselves  in  perpetual  readiness  to  depart  at 
a  moment's  \varnir.g.  Without  such  an  ha- 
bitual readiness,  we  are  like  wretches  that 
sleep  on  the  top  of  a  mast,  \\'hile  a  horrid 
gidf  ya^^^ls,  or  fiu'ious  waves  rage  bclo\^'. 
And  where  can  be  the  peace,  what  the  satis- 
faction of  such  a  state  !  Whereas,  a  prepar- 
ed condition  M'ill  inspire  a  cheerfulness  of 
temper,  not  to  be  displayed  by  any  alarming 
accident,  and  create  a  firmness  of  mind,  not 
to  be  overthro\^ii  by  the  most  threatening 
dangers.  "WTien  the  city  is  fortified  -with 
walls,  furnished  with  pronsion,  guarded  by 
able  and  resolute  troops ;  what  have  the  in- 
habitants to  fear  ?  what  may  they  not  enjoy? 
So,  just  so,  or  rather  by  a  much  surer  band, 
are  connected  the  real  taste  of  life,  and  the 
constant  thought  of  death. 

I  said,   our   very  comforts   may  become 

killing And  see  the  truth  inscribed  by  the 

hand,  sealed  with  the  signet  of  fate.  The 
■marble,  which  graces  yonder  pillar,  informs 
me,  that  near  it  are  deposited  the  remains 
of  Sophronia  ;  the  much  lamented  Sophro- 

nia,    who    died   in    child-bed -How  often 

docs  this  calamity  happen  ?  The  branch 
fhocts,  but  the  stem  vvithers.  The  babe 
springs  to  light  ;  but  she  that  bare  him 
breathes  her  last.  She  gives  life,  but  gives 
it  (O  pitiable  consideration  !)  at  the  ex- 
pense of  her  o%m  ;  and  becomes  at  once  a 

mother  and  a  corjose Or  else,  perhaps,  she 

expires  in  severe  pangs,  and  is  herself  a 
tomb  for  her  infant ;  while  the  melancholy 
complaint  of  a  monarch's  woe  is  the  epitapli 
for  them  both  ;  '  The  children  are  come  to 


*  As  man,  perhaps  the  moment  of  his  breath, 
Receives  the  lurking  principles  of  death. 
The  young  disease,  that  must  subdue  at  length, 
tirows  with  his  growth,  and  strengthens  with  his 
strength.  fnpiis  El/iics. 


the  birth,  and  there  is  not  strength  to  bring 
forth,'* — Less  to  be  lamented  in  my  opin- 
ion, this  misfortime  than  the  other.  Better 
for  the  tender  stranger,  to  be  stopped  in  the 
porch,  than  to  enter  only  to  converse  \^'ith 
affliction.  Better  to  find  a  grave  in  the 
womb  than  to  be  exposed  on  a  hazarlous 
world,  without  the  guarrlian  of  its  infantile 
years,  without  the  faithfid  guide  of  its 
youth. 

Tills  monument  is  distinguished  by  its 
finer  materials,  and  more  delicate  append- 
ages. It  seems  to  have  taken  its  model 
from  an  affluent  hand,  directed  by  a  gene- 
rous heart,  ■\'\diich  thought  it  coidd  never  do 
enough  for  the  deceased.  It  seems,  also, 
to  exhibit  an  emblematical  picture  of  So- 
phronia's  person  and  accomplishments.  Is 
her  beauty,  or,  what  is  more  than  beauty, 
her  white  robed  innocence,  represented  by 
the  snowy  colour?  The  smface  smootldy 
polished,  like  her  amiable  temper,  and  en- 
gaging manners.  The  whole  elegantly  adorn- 
ed, without  either  extravagant  pomp,  or  sor- 
did negligence  ;  like  her  undissembled  good- 
ness, remote  from  the  least  ostentation,  yet 
in  all  points  exemplaiy.  But  ah  !  how  vain 
were  aU  these  endearing  charms  !  How  vain 
the  lustre  of  thy  sprightly  eye  !  How  vain 
the  bloom  of  thy  bridal  youth  !  How  vain 
the  honours  of  thy  superior  birth  !  How  un- 
iible  to  secure  the  lovely  possessor  from  the 
savage  violence  of  death  J  How  inefiectua 
the  universal  esteem  of  thy  acquaintance ;  the 
fondness  of  thy  transported  husband  ;  or 
even  the  spotless  integrity  of  thy  character, 
to  prolong  thy  span,  or  jirocure  thee  a  short 
reprieve  ! — I'he  conciu-rence  of  all  these 
circumstances  reminds  me  of«  those  beauti- 
ful and  tender  lines, 

How  lov'd  how  valu'd  once,  avails  thee  not  : 

To  whom  related,  or  by  whom  begot. 

A  heap  of  dust  alone  remains  of  thee : 

'Tis  all  thou  art ! — ar,d  all  the  proud  stall  be  if 

Pope's  Miacell. 


*  Isaiah  xxxvii.  3. 
t  These  verses  are  inscribed  on  a  small,  but  elegant 
monument  lately  erected  in  tlie  great  church  at  Nor- 
thampton ;  which,  in  the  hierogyjihical  decorations, 
corresponds  wilh  the  description  introduced  above.  In 
tliis  circumstance  particularly,  that  it  is  dedicated  to 
tlie  memory  of  an  amiable  woman,  Mrs.  ANNtSTO.VE- 
noys£,  the  excellent  wife  of  ray  wortliy  friend.  Dr. 
Storehouse;  who  has  seen  all  the  power  of  that 
healing  art,  to  v.hich  I,  and  so  many  others,  havebeen 
greatly  indebted,  failing  in  their  attempts  to  preserve 
a  life  dearer  to  him  than  his  own. 

Nee  prosunt  domino  que  profunt  omnibus,  arte*. 

Ovid, 

No  longer  his  all-healing  art  avails ; 
But  every  remetfy  its  Master  fails. 

In  the  midst  of  histender  distress,  he  has  sought  some 
kind  of  consolation,  even  from  the  sepulchral  marble, 
by  te.-.diing  it  to  speak,  at  once  his  esteem  for  her  me- 
mory ;  and  his  veneration  for  that  rehgion,  which  slie 
so  eminently  adorned.  Norfould  this  be  more  signi- 
ficantly done,  than  by  summing  up  her  character,  in 
that  concise,  but  ro.iiprehensivc  sentence,  A  sirjcERB 
cHiusTiAw.     Concsi-  ei.oi.^h  to  be  the  motto  for  a 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


■  Yet  tboiigli  unable  to  divert  the  stroke, 
Cliristianity  is  sovereign  to  ])liick  out  the 
pXiiig  of  death.  Is  not  this  the  silent  language 
frf  those  hiinps  v.'hich  hurn  ;  and  of  that 
heart  v.'hich  llames  ;  of  those  palms  which 
f^.u^lrish;  and  of  that  crown  which  glitters, 
in  the  Avell  imitated  and  gilded  marble?  Do 
they  not,  to  the  discerning  eye,  describe  the 
\'igilaiice  of  her  faith  ;  the  fervency  of  her 
devotion  ;  her  \-ictory  over  the  \A'orld  ;  and 
the  celestial  diadem,  which  the  Lord,  the 
righteous  Judge,  shall  give  her  at  that  day.* 
How  happy  the  husband,  in  such  a  sharer 
of  his  bed,  and  partner  of  his  fortunes  !  their 
inclinations  were  nicely  tuned  unisons,  and 


rtioumin;;  ring ;  yet,  as  comprehensive  as  the  most  en- 
l-irjieil  sp^iereof  porsrmal,  social,  and  religious  worth. 
'.'  For  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things 
r.ve  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report ;"  are 
they  not' all  included  in  tliat  grand  and  noble  aggre- 
gate— ASin.-?re  Christian ! 

The  first  lines,  connidered  in  such  a  connexion,  are 
vonderi'ully  plaintive  and  pathetic; 

Plow  lov'd,  how  valu'd  once,  avails  thee  not ; 
To  whom  related,  or  by  whom  begot. 

They  sound,  at  least  in  my  ears,  like  the  voice  of  sor- 
row mitigled  with  admiration.  The  speaker  seems  to 
have  been  lost,  for  a  while  in  melancholy  contempla- 
tion ;  suddenly  breaks  out  in  this  abrupt  encomium, 
then  melts  into  tears,  and  can  proceed  no  farther.  Vet 
in  this  case,  how  eloquent  is  silence !  While  it  hints 
the  universal  esteem  which  attended,  and  the  superior- 
ity of  birth  which  distinguished  the  deceased  wife  ;  it 
expresses  beyond  all  the  pomp  of  words,  the  yearning 
aRection,  and  heart-felt  aftliction,  of  the  surviving 
husband.  Amidst  the  ^oup  of  monumental  marbles, 
v/hich  are  lavish  of  their  panegyric,  this,  1  think,  re- 
sembles the  incomparable  address  of  the  painter  ;  who 
Jiaving  placed  round  a  beautiful  expiring  virgin,  her 
friends  in  all  the  agonies  of  grief,  represented  the  un- 
equalled anguish  of  the  father  with  far  greater  liveli- 
ness and  strength,  or  rather  with  an  inexpressible  em- 
phasis, bv  drawing  a  veil  over  his  face. 

If  the  last  lines  are  a  wild  departure  from  the  beaten 
tract  of  our  modern  epithets,  and  the  very  reverse  of 
their  high-flown  compliments, 

A  heap  of  dust  alone  remains  of  thee  ! 

'Tis  all  thou  art !  and  all  i\\e proud  shall  be,— 

they  are  not  without  a  precedent,  and  one  of  the  mo?t 
consummate  kind.  Since  they  breathe  the  very  sijirit 
of  that  sacred  elegy,  in  which  all  the  heart  of  the  iiero 
and  the  friend  seems  to  be  dissolved ;  "  How  are  the 
mighty  fallen,  and  the  weapons  of  war  perished  !" 
2  Sam.  i.  27.  Tliey  remind  the  reader  of  that  awful 
lesr.on  which  was  originally  dictated  by  the  supreme 
Wisdom;  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt 
return."  Gen.  iii.  19. — They  inculcate,  with  all  the 
force  of  the  most  convincing  evidence,  tliat  solemn  ad- 
monition delivered  by  the  prophet;  "Cease  ye  from 
man,  whose  breath  is  in  his  nostrils ;  for  v/herein  is 
he  to  be  accounted  of  ?"  Isa.  ii.22. 

That  no  reader,  however  inattentive,  miglit  mistake 
the  sense  and  design  of  this  part  of  the  last  line, 

'Tis  all  thou  art ! 

it  is  guarded  above  and  beneath. — Above  is  an  expand- 
ed book,  that  seems  to  be  waved  with  an  air  of  tri- 
umph, over  the  emlilem  of  death  ;  wliich  we  cannot 
but  suppose  to  be  the  volume  of  ins|iiration,  as  it  ex- 
hibits a  sort  of  abridgment  of  its  whole  contents,  in 
those  animated  words,  "  lie  ye  not  slothful  but  follow- 
ers of  them,  who  through  faith  and  jiatience  inherit 
the  promises,"  Heb  vi.  12. — Beneath,  that  every  part 
mi<jht  be  pregnant  with  instruction,  are  these  striking 
reflectioTis ;  worthy  the  consideration  of  the  highest 
proficient  in  Imowledge  and  piety,  yet  obvious  to  the 
understanding  of  the  most  untaught  reader:  Life,  how 
short !  r.ternity,  how  long ! — May  my  eouI  learn  the 
forcible  purport  of  this  short  lesson  in  her  contracted 
span  of  time  !  and  al)  eternity  will  not  be  too  lor.g  to 
rejoice  in  having Icnnied  it. 

*  Ti.Ti.  iv,  0. 


all  their  conversation  was  harmoiry.  How 
silken  the  yoke  to  such  a  pair,  and  what 
blessings  were  t\nsted  ^vitli  such  bands  ? 
Every  joy  was  heightened,  and  every  care 
alienated.  Nothing  seemed  wanting  to 
consummate  their  bliss,  but  a  liopeftd  ])ro- 
geny  rising  aromid  them  ;  that  they  might 
see  tlicmselves  midtipliedin  their  little  ones  ; 
see  tlieir  mingled  graces  transfused  into  their 
oifspring ;  and  feel  the  glow  of  their  affec- 
tion augmented,  by  being  reflected  from  their 
children.  "  Grant  us  tliis  gift,"  said  their 
united  ])rn)'ers,  "  and  our  satisfactions  are 
crownied,  we  request  no  more." 

Alas !  how  blind  are  mortals  to  future 
events  ?  how  unable  to  discern  what  is  real- 
ly good  !*  Give  me  children,  said  Rachel, 
or  else  I  die.f  An  ardour  of  impatience  al- 
together imbecoming,  and  as  mistaken  as  it 
was  unbecoming.  She  dies  not  by  the  disap- 
poiritm.ent,  but  by  the  accomplishinent  of 
her  desire.  If  children  are  to  parents,  like 
a  flovv-ery  chaplet,  whose  beauties  blossom 
with  ornament,  and  whose  odours  breathe  de- 
light ;  death  or  some  fell  misfortime,  may 
find  means  to  ent\nne  themselves  with  the 
lovely  wreath.  Whenever  our  souls  are 
poured  out,  with  passionate  importunity,  af- 
ter any  inferior  acquisition,  it  may  be  truly 
said,  in  the  words  of  our  divine  Master,  Ye 
know  not  what  ye  ask — Does  Providence 
withhold  the  thing  that  we  long  for  ?  It  de- 
nies in  mercy ;  and  only  withholds  the  ec- 
casion  of  our  misery,  if  not  the  instrument  of 
our  ruin.  With  a  sickly  appetite  we  often 
loatlie  what  is  wholesome,  and  hanker  after  our 
bane.  Where  imagination  dreams  of  unmin- 
gled  sweets,  there  e.\perience  frequently  finds 
the  bitterness  of  woe. 

Therefore  may  we  covet  immoderately, 
neither  this  nor  that  form  of  earthly  felici- 
ty ;  but  refer  the  whole  of  oiu-  condition  to 
the  choice  of  unerring  wisdom.  May  we 
learn  to  renoinice  oiu-  omi  will,  and  be  ready 
to  make  a  sacrifice  of  oiu-  warmest  wishes, 
whenever  they  run  counter  to  the  good  plea- 
sure of  God.  For  indeed,  as  to  obey  hi.s 
laws  is  to  be  perfectly  free,  so  to  resign  oiu- 
selves  to  liis  disposal,  is  to  establish  our  own 
happiness,  and  to  be  secure  from  fear  of 
evil. 

Here  a  small  and  plain  stone  is  placed 
upon  the  ground,  jiurehased,  one  would  ima- 
gine, from  the  little  fund,  and  formed  by  the 
hand  of  frugality  itself.  Nothing  costly  ; 
not  one  decoration  added  ;  oidy  a  very  short 
inscription  ;  and  that  so  effaced,  as  to  be 
scarcely  intelligible — Was  the  dejjository 
unfaithful  to  its  trust  ?    Or  were  the  letters 


*  Nescia  me!is  hominum  fati,  foitisque  futura! 
Tuino  tempus  erit,  magno  cu  -i  optaverit  cmptum, 
Inf.ictum  I'allant.'.,  et  cum  siijila  ista  diem<iue 
Oidcrit 


f  Gten-  XXX.  1. 


'«■• 


10 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


worn,  by  tlie  frequent  resort  of  the  eiirviviiig 
family,  to  moum  over  tlie  grave,  and  revive 
the  rpmom))rance  of  a  most  vahiableand  be- 
loved relative  ? — For  I  perceive  upon  a 
closer  inspection,  that  it  covers  the  remains 
of  a  father — A  religious  father,  snatched 
from  his  gro\«ng  offspring,  before  they  were 
settled  in  the  world,  or  so  much  as  their  prin- 
ciples fixed  by  a  thorough  education. 
.  This,  sure,  is  the  most  complicated  dis- 
tress, that  has  hitherto  come  under  cur  con- 
fiideration.  The  solemnities  of  such  a  dj-ing 
chamber,  are  some  of  the  most  melting  and 
melancholy  scenes  imaginable — There  lies 
the  affectionate  husband ;  the  indulgent  par- 
ent ;  the  faithful  friend ;  and  the  generous 
master.  He  lies  in  the  last  extremities, 
and  on  the  very  point  of  dissolution.  Art 
has  done  its  all.  The  raging  disease  mocks 
the  power  of  medicine.  It  hastens  with  re- 
sistless impetuosity,  to  execute  its  dreadful 
errand;  to  rend  asunder  the  silver  cord  of 
life,  and  the  more  delicate  tie  of  social  at- 
tachment and  conjug.d  affection. 

A  servant  or  two,  from  a  revering  dis- 
tance, cast  many  a  wishful  look,  and  condole 
their  honoured  master  in  the  language  of 
sip'hs.  The  condescending  mildness  of  his 
commands  ^^•as  wont  to  produce  an  alacrity 
of  obedience,  and  render  their  service  a 
pleasure.  Now  the  remembrance  of  both 
embitters  their  grief,  and  makes  it  trickle 
plentifully  down  their  honest  cheeks — His 
friends,  who  have  so  often  shared  his  joys, 
and  gladdened  his  mind  with  their  euliven- 
inf  converse,  are  now  miserable  comforters. 
A  sympathizing  and  mourning  pity  is  all  th.e 
relief  they  are  able  to  contribute,  uidcss  it 
be  augmented  by  their  siler.t  prayers  for  the 
divine  succour,  and  a  v.'ord  of  consolation 
suggested  from  the  scriptures.* — Those 
poor  innocents,  the  children  croud  around 
the  bed  ;  drowned  in  tears,  and  ahnost  fran- 
tic with  grief,  they  sob  cut  their  little  souls, 
and  passionately  07,  "  Will  he  leave  us? 
leave  us  in  a  helpless  condition  !  leave  us  to 
an  injurious  world  !" 

These  separate  streams  are  all  united  in 
the  distressed  spouse,  and  overwhelm  her 
breast  with  an  impetuous  tide  of  .sorrows.  In 
her,  the  lover  weeps,  the  wife  mourns,  and 
all  the  mother  yearns.  To  her,  the  loss  is 
beyond  measure  aggravated,  by  months  and 
years  of  delightful  society,  and  exalted  friend- 
ship  Where,  alas  !  can  she  meet  with  such 

unsuspected  fidelity,  or  repose  such  unreserv- 
ed confidence  ?  where  find  so  discreet  a  coun- 
sellor, so  impronng  an  example,  and  a  guard- 


»  Texts  of  scripture  proper  for  such  sn  occasion, 
fontaining  promises — nf  support  under  affiiction,  Lam, 
iii.",!.  lleb.  xii.  (J.  2  Cor.  iv.  I7.— nf  pardiw,  Isa. 
i.  18.  Isa.  liii.  .'>.  1  .lolm  ii.  1,  2.  Acts  x.  43— of 
iustification,  Rom.  v.  I).  Horn.  viii.  .■?;),  .U,  2  Cor.  v. 
21  —of  victory  over  tleatli,  Psil.  xxiii.  4.  Psal.  Ixxiii. 
efi.  1  Cot  XV.  ."in,  57. — ofahappv  rrsunecUona  John 
\  i.  40.     2  Tor.  v.  1      Uev.  vii.  IC,  I7. 


ian  BO  sedulously  attentive  to  the  interests  of 
herself,  and  her  children  ?  See  !  how  she 
hangs  over  the  languishing  bed  ;  most  tender- 
ly solicitous  to  prolong  a  life,  important  and 
valuable,  far  beyond  her  own  ;  or,  if  that  be 
impracticable,  no  less  tenderly  officious  to 
soothe  the  last  agonies  of  her  dearer  self. 
Her  hands,  trembling  under  direful  appre- 
hensions, wipe  the  cold  dews  from  the  livid 
cheeks  ;  and  sometimes  stay  the  sinking 
head  on  her  gentle  arms,  sometimes  rest  it 

on    her  compassionate   bosom See  !  how 

she  gazes,  with  a  speechless  ardour  on 
the  pale  countenance,  and  meagre  features  ! 
Wliile  all  her  soft  passions  beat  unutter- 
able fondness,  and  her  very  soul  bleeds  with 
exquisite  anguish. 

The  sufferer,  all  patient  and  adoring,  sub- 
mits to  the  divine  will ;  and,  by  submission, 
becomes  superior  to  his  affliction.  He  is 
sensibly  touched  with  the  disconsolate  state 
of  his  attendants,  and  pierced  with  an  anxi- 
ous concern  for  his  ^\^fe  and  his  children  ; 
his  wfe,  who  wiU  soon  be  a  destitute  wi- 
dow :  his  children,  who  %vill  soon  be  help- 
less orphans.  Yet,  "  though  cast  downi, 
not  in  despair."  He  is  greatly  refreshed  by 
his  trust  in  the  everlasting  covenant  and  his 
hope  of  approaching  glory.  Religion  gives 
a  dignity  to  distress.  At  each  interval  of 
ease,  he  comforts  his  very  comforters ;  and 
suffers  with  all  the  majesty  of  woe. 

The  soul,  just  going  to  abandon  the  totter- 
ing clay,  collects  all  her  force,  and  exerts  her 
last  efforts.  The  good  man  raises  himself 
on  his  pillow ;  extends  a  kind  hand  to  his 
servants,  who  are  bathed  in  tears  ;  takes  an 
affecting  farewell  of  his  friends ;  clasps  his 
vvife  in  a  feeble  embrace  ;  kisses  the  dear 
pledges  of  their  mutual  love  ;  and  then  pours 
all  that  remains  of  life  and  strength,  in  the 
following  words  ; — "  I  die,  my  dear  child- 
ren :  But  God,  the  everlasting  God,  will  be 
with  you Though  you  lose  an  earthly  pa- 
rent, you  have  a  P'ather  in  heaven,  who 
lives  for  evermore. — Nothing,  nothing  but 
an  unbelie\'ing  heart,  and  irreligious  life,  can 
ever  separate  you  from  the  regards  of  his 
providence — from  the  endearments  of  his 
love." 

He  could  proceed  no  farther.  His  heart 
was  full  ;  but  utterance  failed — After  a 
short  pause,  prompted  by  alfectionate  zeal, 
with  difliculty,  gi'cat  dilHculty,  he  added — 
"  You  the  dear  partner  of  my  soul ;  you  are 
now  the  only  protector  of  our  oqihans — I 
leave  you  under  a  weight  of  cares — But 
God,  who  defendcth  the  cause  of  the  iddow, 
. — God,  whose  promise  is  faithfulness,  and 
truth — God  hath  said,  I  will  never  leave 
thee,  nor  forsake  thee.* — This  revives  my 
drooping  spirits,  let  this  support  the  wife  of 


Ileb.  xiii.  & 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


II 


my  bosom. — And  now,  O  Father  of  com- 
passions, into  tliy  hands  I  commend  my  spi- 
rit  Encoimised  by  thy  promised  goodness, 

I  leave  my  fatherless " 

Here  he  fainted ;  fell  back  upon  the  bed  ; 
and  lay  for  some  minutes,  bereft  of  his  sen- 
ses. As  a  taper  upon  the  Aery  point  of  ex- 
tinction, is  sometimes  suddenly  rekindled, 
and  leaps  into  a  quivering  flame  ;  so  life,  be- 
fore it  totally  expired,  gave  a  parting  strug- 
gle, and  once  more  looked  abroad  from  the 
opening  eye-lids.  He  would  fain  have  spoke ; 
fain  have  uttered  the  sentence  he  began. 
More  than  once  he  essayed  ;  but  the  organs 
of  speech  were  become  like  a  broken  vessel, 
and  nothing  but  the  obstructing  phlegm  rat- 
tled in  his  throat  ;  his  aspect,  hov>'ever, 
spoke  affection  inexpressible.  With  all  the 
lather,  all  the  husband,  still  living  in  his 
1  )oks,  he  takes  one  more  view  of  those  dear 
children,  whom  he  had  often  beheld  with  a 
parental  triumph.  He  turns  his  dying  eyes 
on  that  beloved  woman,  whom  he  had  never 
Ifcheld  but  with  a  glow  of  delight.  Fixed 
in  this  posture,  amidst  smiles  of  love,  and 
under  a  gleam  of  heaven,  they  shine  out 
their  last. 

Upon  this,  the  silent  sorrow  bm-sts  into 
loud  laments.  They  weep,  and  refuse  to  be 
comforted.  Till  some  length  of  time  had 
given  vent  to  the  excess  of  passion  ;  and  the 
consolations  of  religion  had  staunched  their 
bleeding  woes.  Then,  the  afllictcd  family 
search  for  the  sentence,  which  fell  uiifinisli- 
ed  from  those  loved,  those  venerable  and 
pious  lips.  They  find  it  recorded  by  the 
prophet  Jeremiah,  containing  the  direction 
of  infinite  wisdom,  and  the  promise  of  un- 
l)ounded  goodness  :  "  Leave  thy  fatherless 
children  :  I  will  preserve  them  alive  :  and 
let  thy  vvidows  trust  in  me."* — This  now  is 
the  comfort  of  their  life,  and  the  joy  of  their 
heart.  They  treasure  it  up  in  their  memo- 
ries. It  is  the  best  of  legacies,  and  an  inex- 
haustible fund.  A  fund,  which  will  supply 
all  their  wants,  by  entailing  the  blessing  of 

heaven  on  all  their  honest  laboin-s They 

are  rich,  they  are  happy,  in  this  sacred  pledge 
of  the  divine  favour.  They  fear  no  evil ; 
they  want  no  good ;  because  God  is  their 
portion  and  their  guardian  God. 

No  sooner  turned  from  one  memento  of 
Tny  own,  and  memorial  of  another's  decease, 
but  a  second,  a  third,  a  long  succession  of 
these  melancholy  monitors  crowd  upon  my 
sight.f — That  which  has  frxed  my  observa- 
tion, is  one  of  a  more  grave  and  sable  aspect 
than  the  former.  I  suppose  it  preserves  the 
relics  of  a  more  aged  person.  One  would 
conjecture,  that  he  made  somewhat  of  a  figure 
ill  his  station  among  the  li\dng,  as  his  monu- 


Jer   xlix.  11. 

riurima  mortis  imago. —  f'hg. 


ment  does  among  the  funeral  marbles.  Let 
me   draw  near,  and  inquire    of  the    stone. 

"  Who  or  what  is  beneath  its   surface  ?" I 

am  informed,  he  was  once  the  owner  of  a 
considerable  estate  :  which  was  much  im- 
proved by  his  own  application  .and  manage- 
ment :  that  he  left  the  world  in  the  busy 
period  of  life,  advanced  a  little  beyond  the 
nieridian. 

Probably,  replied  my  musing  mind,  one  of 
those  indefatigable  drudges,  who  rise  early, 
late  take  rest,  and  eat  the  bread  of  careful- 
ness, not  to  secure  the  loving-kindness 
of  the  Lord,  not  to  make  provision  for  any 
reasonable  necessity,  but  only  to  amass  to- 
gether ten  thousand  times  more  than  they 
can  possibly  use.  Did  he  not  lay  schemes 
for  enlarging  his  fortune,  and  aggrandizing 
his  family  ?  Did  he  not  puq)ose  to  join 
field  to  field,  and  add  house  to  house,  till  his 
possessions  were  almost  as  vast  as  his  de- 
sires? That,  then,  he  would*  sit  do\\Ti  and 
enjoy  what  he  had  acquired,  breathe  a  while 
from  his  toilful  pursuit  of  things  temporal, 
and,  perhaps,  think  g,  little  of  things  eter- 
nal. 

But  see  the  folly  of  worldly  wisdom  !  How 
silly,  how  childish  is  the  sagacity  of  (what 
is  called)  manly  and  masterly  pnidence,  when 
it  contrives  more  solicitously  for  time,  than 
it  provides  for  eternity !  How  strangely 
infatuated  are  those  subtile  heads  which 
weary  themselves  in  concerting  measures 
for  phantoms  of  a  day,  and  scarce  bestow  a 
thought  on  everlasting  realities  ! — when  every 
wheel  moves  on  smoothly ;  when  all  the 
well-disposed  designs  are  ripening  apace  for 
execution ;  and  the  long  expected  crisis  of 
enjojTnent  seems  to  approach  ;  behold  !  God 
from  on  high  laughs  at  the  Babel-builder. 
Death  touches  the  bubble  and  it  breaks  ;  it 
drops  into  nothing.  The  cob-web,  most 
finely  spun  indeed,  but  more  easOy  dislodg- 
ed, is  swept  away  in  an  instant ;  and  all  the 
abortive  projects  are  buried  in  the  sfime 
grave  with  their  projector.  So  true  is  that 
verdict  which  the  wsdom  from  above  passes 
on  these  succcssfid  unfortunates,  "  They 
walk  in  a  vain  shadow,  and  disquiet  them- 
selves in  vain."f 

Speak  ye  that  attended  such  a  one  in  his 
last  minutes  ;  ye  that  heard  his  expirhig 
sentiments,  did  he  not  cry  out,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  disappointed  sensuality,  "  O  death  I 
how  terrible  is  thy  a]iproach  to  a  man  im- 
mersed in  secular  cares,  and  void  of  all  con- 
cern for  the  never  ending  licreafter?  Where, 
alas  !  is  the  ]u-ofit,  where  the  comfort  of  en- 
tering deep  into  the  knowledge,  and  of  being 
dexterous  in  the  dispatch  of  earthly  aflairs  ; 


•  —  Mar  mcntelaborem, 
Scse  sevrp,  spnee  ut  in  otia  tutii  reecdant, 
Aiut,  rum  sibi  fint  congcsta  citiaiia. — Hor, 
i  I'salix  xxxix.  C. 


12 


MEDITATIONS  A.MONG  THE  TOMBS. 


Eirice  I  bave  alt  the  while  neglected  tlie  one 
.thing  needful  ?  Destructive  mistake  !  I  have 
been  attentive  to  eveiy  inferior  interest.  I 
have  laid  myself  out  on  the  trifles  of  a  mo- 
.ment,  but  have  disregarded  heaven  ;  have 
forgot  eternal  ages  !    Oh  !  that  my  days." — 

•  Here,  he  was  going  on  to  breatlie  sotne  fruit- 
less wishes,  or  to  form  I  know  not  what  in- 
effectual resokitions.      But  a  sudden  convul- 

■;sion  shook  his  nerves  ;  disabled  his  tongue; 

and,  in  less  than  an  lioiu",  dissolved  his 
.frame. 

]\Iay  the  children  of  this  world  be  warned, 

by  the  dying  words  of  an  nnhappy  brother  ; 
.and  gather  advantage  from  his  misfortune 

•  Why  should  they  pant  with  such  impatient 
ardour:  after  white  and  yellow  earth,  as  if 
the  universe  did- not  afford  sufficient  for  eveiy 
one  to  take  a  little  !    Wliy  should  they  lade 

.themselves  \nth  thick  clay,  when  they  are 
to  "run  for  an  incorruptible  crowni,  and 
])ress  towards  the  prize  of  their  high  calling  ?" 
VVliy  should  they  overload  the  vessel,  in 
which  their  everlasting  all  is  embarked  ;  or 

.fiU  their  arms  with  superfluities,  when  they 
are  to  swim  for  their  lives  ?   Yet  so  prepos- 

-  terous  is  the  conduct  of  those  persons,  who 
are  all  industry,  to  heap  up  an  abundance  of 
the  wealth  which  ]>erisheth,  but  scarce  so 
much  as  ftiintly  desirous  of  being  rich  to- 

■  wards  Go<l. 

O  that  we  may  v/alk  from  henceforth 
through  all  these  glittering  toys,  at  least 
mth  a  wise  indifference,   if  not  with  a  su- 

•  jierior  disdain  !  Having  enougli  for  the  con- 
.  veniencies  of  life,  let  us  only  accommodate 

•  ourselves  with  things  below,  and  lay  up  our 
treasures  in  the  regions  above — Whereas, 
if  we  indulge  an  anxious  concern,  or  lavish 
an  inordinate  care,  on  any  transitory  posses- 
sions, we  shall  rivet  tliem  to  our  affections 
with  so  firm  an  union,  that  the  utmost  sever- 
ity of  pain  must  attend  the  separating  stroke. 
By  such  an  eager  attachment  to  what  \\ill 
certainly  be  ravished  from  us,  we  shall  only 
ensure  to  ourselves  accumulated  anguisli, 
against  the  agonizing  hour,  we  shall  plant, 
aforehand,  our  dying  pillow  mth  thorns.  * 

Some,  I  perceive,  arrived  at  threescore 
years  and  ten,  before  they  made  their  exit  : 
nay,  some  few  resigned  not  their  breaths, 
till  they  had  numbered  fourscore  revolving 
harvests. — These,  I  would  hope,  "remem- 
Ijered  their  Creator  in  the  days  of  their 
youth,"  before  their  strength  became  labour 
and  sorrow  ; — before  that  lo\v  ebb  of  lan- 
guishing nature,  when  the  keepers  of  the 
.house  tremble,  and  those  that  look  out  of 
the  windows  are  darkened  ;f  when  even  the 


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

A  broken  reed  at  best,  Imt  oft  a  spear ; 

On  its  sharp  point  peace  bleeds,  andhon?  expires, 

\ii.'ht  Tlimifi-ht.iy'^io.  III. 

+  Kcc\.  xii.  3,  5.  I  npod  not  remind  my  rrad?r,  th.nt 

by  the  former  of  thess  figunrtive  expn.ssioiis  is  sigiii- 


lightiiig  iowii  of  the  grasshopper  is  a  burden 
on  the  bending  shoulders,  and  desire  itself 
faUs  in  the  listless  lethargic  soul  ; — before 
those  heavy  horn's  come,  and  those  tiresome 
moments  draw  nigh  in  which  there  is  too 
much  reason  to  say,  "  We  have  no  pleasure 
in  them  ;  no  improvement  from  them." 

If  their  lamps  were  unfurnished  with  oil, 
how  unfit  must  they  be,  in  such  decrejnt  cir- 
ciunstances,  to  go  to  the  market  and  buy  !* 
For,  besides  a  variety  of  disorders  arising 
from  the  enfeebled  constitution,  their  cor- 
ruptions must  be  surprisingly  strengthened, 
by  such  a  long  course  of  irreligion.  Evil 
habits  must  have  struck  the  deepest  root  ; 
must  lia\e  twisted  themselves  with  every  fi- 
bre of  the  heart,  and  be  as  thoroughly  in- 
grained in  the  disposition,  as  the  soot  in  the 
Ethiopian's  comple.xion,  or  the  spots  in  the 
leopard's  skin.  If  such  a  one,  under  such 
disadvantages,  surmounts  all  the  difficulties 
which  lie  in  his  v.'ay  to  gloiy,  it  nuL-^t  be  a 
great  and  mighty  salvation  indeed.  If  such 
a  one  escapes  destruction,  and  is  saved  at 
the  last,  it  must,  without  all  pcradventiu'e, 
be — so  as  by  fire.f 

This  is  the  season  which  stands  in  need  of 
comfort,  and  is  very  improper  to  enter  upon 
the  conflict.  The  husbandman  should  now 
be  putting  in  his  sickle  or  eating  the  fruit  of 
liis    labours  ;    not  beginning    to    break    up 

the  groimd  or  scatter  the  seed Nothing,  it 

is  true,  is  impossible  with  God  ;  he  said, 
"  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light"  in- 
stantaneous light,  diffused  as  quick  as  thought 
through  all  the  dismal  dominion  of  prime- 
val darkness.  At  his  command  a  le})rosy, 
of  the  longest  continuance,  and  of  the  ut- 
most inveteracy,  dejiarts  in  a  moment.  He 
can,  in  tlie  greatness  of  his  strength,  quicken 
the  wretch,  \\lio  has  lain  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins,  not  four  days  only,  but  fourscore 
years.  Yet  trust  not,  O  trust  not,  a  jjoint 
of  such  inexpressible  importance,  to  so 
dreadful  an  uncertainty.  God  may  suspend 
his  power ;  may  wthdraw  his  help  ;  may 
swear  in  his  wrath,  that  such  abuses  of  his 
long-suffering  shall  "never  enter  into  his  rest." 

Ye  therefore,  that  are  vigorous  in  health, 
and  blooming  in  years,  improve  tbepiecious 
opportunity.  Improve  your  golden  hoiu-s  to 
the  noblest  of  all  purposes ;  such  as  may 
render  you  meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the 
saints  in  light,  and  ascertain  your  title  to  a 
state  of  imuKjrtal  youth,  to  a  crown  of  eter- 
nal glory Stand  not  all  the  prime  of  your 

day  idle  ;  trifle  no  longer  with  the  offers  of 
this  immense  felicity  j  but  make  haste,  and 


(led  the  enervated  state  of  the  hands  and  arms ;  by 
the  latter,  the  dimness  of  the  eyes,  or  the  total  loss  of 
sight ;  that  taken  in  connexion  with  other  parts  of 
the  chapter,  they  exhibit  in  a  series  of  bold  snd  lively 
metaphors,  a  description  of  the  vaiious  infianljies  at- 
tendant on  old  a;;e. 

»   Matt.  XXV.  !).  f  1  r<n-  iii.  15. 


MEmTATlOSS  ArxIONG  THE  TOMBS 


\n 


delay'  i;ol  the  Uiiie  to  kcc))  (iod'scommand- 
meiits.  AVhile  you  are  loiteiiii,!i;  in  a  gay  in- 
sensibility, death  may  be  bending  his  bow, 
and  marking  you  out  for  speedy  victims — 
Not  long  ago,  I  happened  to  spy  a  thought- 
less jay.  The  poor  bird  was  idly  busied  in 
dressing  his  pretty  plumes,  or  hopping  care- 
lessly I'rom  spray  to  spray.  A  sportsman 
coming  by,  observes  the  feathered  rover. 
Immediately  he  lifts  the  tube  and  levels  his 
blow.  Swifter  than  wliirhviiid  tlics  thelea^ 
den  death  ;  and  in  a  moment,  lays  the  silly 
creature  breathless  on  the  ground — ^^Such, 
such  may  be  the  fate  of  the  man,  who  has  a 
fair  occasion  of  obtaining  grace  to-day,  and 
wantonly  postpones  the  improvement  of  it, 
till  to  morrow.  He  may  be  cut  off  in  the 
midst  of  his  folly,  and  ruined  for  ever  while 
he  is  dreaming  of  being  wise  hereafter. 

Some,  no  doubt,  came  to  this  their  last  re- 
treat fidl  of  piety,  and  full  of  days  ;  "  as  a 
shock  of  com,  ripe  with  age  and  laden  with 
plenty,  cometh  in,  in  his  season. "f — These 
were  childi-en  of  light  and  wise  in  their  ge- 
neration ;  wise  with  that  exalted  wisdom 
which  cometh  from  above ;  and  ^\^th  that 
enduring  wisdom  which  lasts  to  eternity. — 
Rich  also  they  were,  more  honourably  and 
permanently  rich  than  all  the  votaries  of 
mammon.  The  wealth  of  the  one  has  made 
itself  wings,  and  is  irrecoverably  gone  ;  while 
the  wretched  acquirers  are  transmitted  to 
that  place  of  penury  and  pain,  where  not 
so  much  as  one  drop  of  water  is  allowed  to 
cool  their  scorching  tongues,  the  stores  of 
the  other  still  abide  with  them  ;  will  never 
depart  from  them  ;  but  make  them  glad 
for  ever  and  ever  in  the  city  of  their  God. 
Then-  treasures  'were  such  as  no  created 
power  could  take  away,  such  as  none  but  in- 
tinite  beneficence  can  bestow,  and  (comfort- 
able to  consider  ! )  such  as  I,  and  every  in- 
digent longing  sinner  may  obtain  treasures 
of  heavenly  knowledge,  and  saving  faith  ; 
treasures  of  atoning  blood  and  imputed  right- 
eousness. 

Here|  lie  their  bodies  in  "  peaceful  ha- 


bitations, and  quiet  resting  places."  Here 
they  have  tlu-own  off  every  burden,  and  are 
escaped  from  every  snare.  The  head  aches 
no  more  ;  the  eye  forgets  to  weep  ;  the  flesh 
is  no  longer  racked  with  acute,  nor  wasted 
with  lingering  distemper.  Here  they  re- 
ceive a  final  release  from  pain,  and  an  ever- 
lasting discharge  from  sorrow.  Here  dan- 
ger never  threatens  them  with  her  terrifying 
alarms  ;  but  tranquillity  softens  their  couch, 
and  safety  guards  theirrepose. — Rest  then,  ye 
precious  relics,  within  this  hospitable  gloom  ; 
rest  in  gentle  slumbers,  till  the  last  trumpet 


•  May  I  be  permitted  to  recommend,  as  a  treasure 
of  fine  sentiments,  Dr.  Lucas'  Inquiry  after  Hapjii- 
ness;  and,  as  a  treatise  particularly  appositeto  my  sub- 
ject, that  part  of  his  inquiry  which  displays  thcmethod, 
and  enumerates  the  advantages  of  improving  life,  or 
living  much  in  a  little  time.  Chap.  iii.  p.  159. — An 
autlior,  in  whom  the  gentleman,  the  scholar,  and  the 
Christian  are  remarkably  united. — A  performance, 
which  in  point  of  solid  argument,  unatt'ected  piety, 
and  a  vein  of  thought  amazingly  fertile,  has  few  su- 
periors. Insomuch  that  I  know  not  how  to  wish  my 
reader  a  more  refined  pleasure,  or  a  more  substantial 
Ijlcssina,  than  to  have  the  maxims  of  this  entertain- 
ing and  pathetic  writer's  little  piece,  wove  into  the 
very  texture  of  his  heart.  Unless  I  might  be  allowed 
to  wish,  that  the  writer  himself  had  interspersed  the 
glorious  peculiarities  of  the  gospel  (on  which  our  hap- 
piness so  much  depends)  a  little  more  liberally  through 
all  his  works. 

+  Job  v  CI). 

;;  Some,  I  know,  are  offended  at  our  burying  corpses 
within  the  church,  and  exclaim  against  it  as  a  very 
«roat  impropriety  r.nd  indecency.    But  this,  I  imagine, 


proceeds  from  an  excessive  and  mistaken  delicacy. 
Let  proper  care  be  taken  to  secure  from  injury  the 
foundations  of  the  building,  and  to  prevent  the  exhal- 
ation of  any  noxions  effluvia  from  the  putrefying 
flesh  ;  and  I  cannot  discoter  any  inconveniences  attend- 
ing this  practice. 

The  notion,  that  noisome  carcases  (as  they  are  call- 
ed) are  very  unbecoming  a  place  consecrated  to  religi- 
ous purposes,  seems  to  be  cferived  from  the  antiquat- 
ed Jew  ish  canon  ;  whereby  it  was  declared,  that  a  dead 
body  imparted  defilement  to  the  person  who  touched 
it,  and  polluted  the  spot  where  it  was  lodged.  On 
which  account  the  Jews  were  scrupulously  careful  to 
have  their  sepulchres  built  at  a  distance  from  their 
houses,  and  made  it  a  point  of  conscience,  not  to  suf- 
fer burial  places  to  subsist  in  the  city.  I  ut  as  this 
was  a  rite  i.ureiy  ceremonial,  it  seems  to  be  entirely 
superseded  by  the  gospel  dispensation. 

1  caimot  forbear  tliinking,  that  under  the  Christian 
economy,  there  is  a  propriety  and  usefulness  in  the 
custom.— Usefulness,  because  it  must  render  our  so- 
lemn assemblies  more  venerable  and  awful.  For, 
when  we  walk  over  the  dust  of  our  friends,  or  kneel 
upon  the  ashes  of  our  relations,  thisav;akening  circum- 
stance must  strike  a  lively  impression  of  our  own  mor-: 
tality.  And  what  consideration  can  be  more  efiectual 
to  make  us  serious  and  attentive  in  hearing,  earnest 
and  importunate  in  praying. 

As  for  the  fitness  of  the  usage,  it  seems  perfectly, 
suitable  to  the  design  of  those  sacred  edifices.  They 
are  set  apart  for  God  :  not  only  to  rcceiv  e  his  worshijW 
pers,  but  to  preserve  the  fumiture  for  holy  ministra- 
tions, and  what  is  in  a  peculiar  manner  appropriated^ 
to  the  divine  Majesty.  Are  not  the  bodies  of  the  saints 
the  Almighty's  property  ?  Were  they  not  once  the  ob- 
jects of  his  tender  love  ?  Are  they  not  still  the  objects 
of  his  special  care  ?  Has  he  not  given  commandmenc 
concerning  the  bones  of  his  elect.;  and  charged  the 
ocean,  and  enjoined  the  grave,  to  keep  them  till  that 
day?  When  rocks  bright  with  gems,  or  mountains 
rich  with  mines,  are  abandoned  to  the  devouring  flames, 
will  not  these  be  rescued  from  the  fiery  ruin  !  will  not 
these  be  translated  into  Jehovah's  kingdom,  and  con- 
jointly with  the  soul,  made  "  his  jewels,"  made  •'  his 
peculiar  treasure;"  made  to  "  shine  as  the  brightness 
of  the  firmament  and  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever." 

Is  not  Christ  the  Lord  of  our  bodies  ?  Are  they  not 
bought  with  a  price;  bought  not  with  x-orruplible 
things,  as  silver  and  gold,  but  with  his  divinely  pre- 
cious blood?  And  if  the  blessed  Jesus  purchased  the 
redemption  of  our  bodies  at  so  infinitely  dear  a  rate, 
can  it  enter  into  our  hearts  to  conceive,  that  he  should 
dislike  to  have  them  reposed  under  his  own  habitation  ? 
— Onceroore;  Are  not  the  bodies  of  thefaithful  "tem- 
ples of  tke  Holy  Ghost?"  and  is  there  not  upon  this  sup- 
position, an  apparent  propriety,  rather  than  the  least 
indecorum,  in  committing  those  tenij)lcs  of  flesh;  to 
the  temples  made  with  hands  ?  They  are  vessels  of 
honour;  instruments  of  righteousness;  and,  even  when 
broken  by  death,  like  the  fragments  of  a  golden  bowl, 
are  valuable,  are  worthy  to  be  laid  up  in  the  safest, 
most  honourable  repositories. 

Upon  the  whole,  since  the  Lord  Jesus  has  purchas- 
ed them  at  the  exjiense  of  his  blood ;  and  the  blessed 
Spirit  has  honoured  them  with  his  indwelling  pre- 
sence ;  since  they  are  right  dear  in  the  sight  of  the 
adorable  Trinity,  and  unch)ubied  heirs  of  a  glorious 
immortality;  w-hy  should  it  be  thought  a  thing  im- 
proper to  admit  them  to  a  transient  rest  in  therr 
iieavenly  Father's  house?  Why  may  they  not  lie 
ilown  and  sleep,  in  the  outer  courts;  since  they  are 
soon  to  be  introduced  into  the  inmost  mansions  of 
everlasting  honour  and  joy  I 


14 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE   TOMBS. 


b-hiJl  give  the  welcome  signal,  and  sound 
aloud  through  aU  your  silent  mansions, 
"  Arise,  shine ;  for  your  light  is  come,  and 
the  glory  of  the  Lord  is  risen  upon  you." 
(Isa.  Ix.   1.) 

To  those,  how  calm  was  the  evening  of 
life  !  In  what  a  smiling  serenity  did  their 
sun  go  do^\Ti !  \Vhen  their  Hesh  and  their 
heart  failed,  how  reviving  was  the  remem- 
brance of  an  all-sufficient  Redeemer  ;  once 
dying  for  their  sins,  now  risen  again  for  their 
justification !  How  cheering  the  well  gromid- 
ed  hope  of  pardon  for  their  transgressions, 
and  peace  wth  God  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord  !  How  did  this  assuage  the  agonies, 
and  sweeten  the  bitterness  of  death ! — Where 
now  is  wealth,  with  all  her  golden  moun- 
tains? "Where  is  honoiu-  with  her  proud 
trophies  of  reno^^Tl  ?  Where  are  all  the  vain 
pomps  of  a  deluded  world  ?  Can  they  inspire 
such  comfort,  can  they  administer  any  sup- 
port in  this  last  extremity  ?  Can  they  com- 
pose the  aifrighted  thoughts,  or  buoy  up  the 
departing  soul,  amidst  all  the  pangs  of  dis- 
solution ? — The  followers  of  the  Lamb 
seem  pleased  and  triumjjhant  even  at  their 
last  gasp.  "  God's  everlasting  arms  are  im- 
demeath"  (Deut.  xxxiii.  27. )  their  fainting 
heads.  His  spirit  whispers  peace  and  con- 
solation to  their  consciences.  In  the  strength 
of  these  heavenly  succoiu-s,  they  quit  the 
field,  not  captives  but  conquerors  ;  with 
"  hopes  full  of  immortality." 

And  now  they  are  gone — The  struggles 
of  reluctant  natiu-e  are  over.  The  body 
sleeps  in  death,  the  soid  laimches  into  the 
invisible  state. — But  who  can  imagine  the 
delightful  surprise,  v^hen  they  find  them- 
selves surroimded  by  guardian  angels,  instead 
of  weeping  friends  ?  How  seciu-ely  do  they 
wing  their  way,  and  pass  through  unkno^^^l 
worlds  under  the  conduct  of  those  celestial 
guides — The  vale  of  tears  is  quite  lost. 
Farewell,  for  ever,  the  realms  of  woe,  and 
range  of  malignant  beings  !  They  amve  on 
the  frontiers  of  inexpressible  felicity.  They 
"  are  come  to  the  city  of  the  living  God ;" 
while  a  voice,  sweeter  than  music  in  her 
softest  strains,  sweet  as  the  harmony  of 
hymning  seraphim,  congi-atulates  their  arri- 
val, and  bespeaks  their  admission  :  "  Lift  up 
your  heads,  O  ye  gates  ;  and  be  ye  lift  up, 
ye  everlasting  doors,  that  the  heirs  of  gloiy 
may  enter  in." 

Here  then  let  us  leave  the  spirits  and  souls 
of  the  righteous,  escaped  from  an  entang- 
ling wilderness,  and  received  into  a  paradise 
of  delights  !  escaped  from  the  territories  of 
disquietude,  and  settled  hi  regions  of  unmo- 
lested security  !  Here  they  sit  dov/n  with 
Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom 
of  their  Father.  Here  they  mingle  with  an 
iimumerable  company  of  angels,  and  rejoice 
around  the  throne  of  the  Lamb  ;  rejoice  in 
the  fruition  of  i)resti!t  felicity,   and  in   the 


assm-ed  expectation  of  an  inconceivable  ad- 
dition to  their  bliss  ;  when  God  shall  call 
the  heavens  from  above,  and  the  earth,  that 
he  may  judge  his  peojjle.* 

Fools  account  their  life  madness,  and  their 
end  to  be  without  honour ;  but  they  are 
numbered  among  the  children  of  God,  and 
their  lot,  their  distinguished  and  eternal  lot, 
is  among  the  saints  !f  However,  therefore, 
an  imdisceming  world  may  despise,  and  a 
profane  world  vilify  the  truly  religious  ;  be 
this  the  supreme,  the  invariable  desire  of  my 
heart !  "  Let  me  live  the  life,  and  die  the 
death  of  the  righteous.  Oh  !  let  my  latter 
end,  and  future  state  be  like  theirs." 

What  figure  is  that  which  strikes  my  eye, 
from  an  eminent  part  of  the  wall  ?  It  is  not 
only  placed  in  a  more  elevated  situation 
than  the  rest,  but  carries  a  more  splendid 
and  sumptuous  air  than  ordinary.  Swords 
and  spears,  murdering  engines,  and  instru-' 
ments  of  slaughter,  adorn  the  stone  with  a 

formidable  magnificence It  proves  to  be 

the  monument  of  a  noble  warrior. 

Is  such  respect,  thought  I,  paid  to  the 
memory  of  this  brave  soldier,  for  sacrificing 
his  life  to  the  public  good  ? — Then  what 
honoiu's,  what  inmiortal  honours,  are  due  to 
the  great  captain  of  our  salvation  ?  who, 
though  Lord  of  the  angelic  legions,  and  su- 
preme commander  of  all  the  heavenly  hosts, 
\viUingly  ofi"ered  himself  a  bleeding  propitia- 
tion for  sinners. 

The  one  died  being  a  mortal,  and  only- 
yielded  up  a  life  which  was  long  before  for-' 
feited  to  divine  justice  ;  which  must  sooti 
have  been  sun-endered  as  a  debt  to  nature,  if 

it  had  not  fallen  as  a  prey  to  war But 

Christ  took  flesh  and  gave  up  the  ghost, 
though  he  was  the  great  I  am  ;  the  fountain 
of  existence,  who  c.dls  happiness  and  im- 
mortality all  his  own.  He  who  thought  it 
no  robbeiy  to  be  equal  wth  God,  he,  whose 
outgoings  were  from  everlasting  ;  even  he 
was  made  in  the  Hkeness  of  man,  and  cut  ofT 
out  of  the  land  of  the  living.  Wonder,  O 
heavens  !  be  astonished,  O  earth  !  He  died 
the  death,  of  whom  it  is  witnessed,  that  he 
is  "  the  tme  God,  and  eternal  life."  (1  John 
V.  20.) 

The  one  exposed  himself  to  peril  in  the 
service  of  his  sovereign  and  his  country  ; 
which,  though  it   was   glorious  to  do,  yet 


*  Seneca's  reflections  upon  the  state  of  holy  souls 
delivered  from  the  burden  of  the  flesh,  are  sparkling 
and  fine;  yet  very  indistinct  and  empty,  compared 
with  the  particulars  mentioned  above,  and  with  many 
others  that  might  be  collected  from  scripture.  In  hoc 
tam  procelloso,  et  in  omnes  tempestates  exposito  navi- 
gantibus  mari  nullus  portus,  nisi  mortus  est.  Ne 
itaque  invideris  fratri  tuo ;  quiescit.  Tandem  liber, 
tandem  tutus,  tandem  eternus  est.  Fruitoi:,  nunc 
aperto  et  libero  coelo;  ex  humili  et  depresso  in  cum 
em  cuit  locum  qui  solutas  vinculis  animus  beato  reci- 
pit  sinu;  et  nunc  omnia,  rerum  natura  hona  cum 
sumraa  voluptatepercipit.    Sen.  ad  Polyb. 

t  Wisdom  V.  4,  '5. 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS; 


15 


W'ciild  Iiiive  boeii  ignominious,  in  such  rir- 

cunisuineos  to  have  declined But   Christ 

took  the  field,  though  he  was  the  blessed 
and  only  potentate,  the  King  of  kings,  and 
Lord  of  lords.  Christ  took  the  field,  though 
be  was  sure  to  drop  in  the  engagement ;  and 
put  on  the  harness,  though  he  knew  before- 
hand that  it  must  reek  with  his  blood.  That 
prince  of  heaven  resigned  his  ro3'aI  person, 
not  barely  to  hazard  but  to  the  inevitable 
stroke  ;   to  death,   certain   in   its  apjiroach, 

and  armed  with  all  its  hoiTors And  for 

whom  ?  Not  for  those  who  were  in  any  de- 
gree desernng  :  but  for  his  own  disobedient 
creatures  ;  for  the  jjardon  of  condemned 
malefactors,  for  a  band  of  rebels,  a  race  of 
traitors,  the  most  obnoxious  and  inexcusable 
of  all  criminals ;  whom  he  might  have  left  to 
perish  in  their  iniquities,  without  the  least  im- 
peachment of  his  goodness,  and  to  the  dis- 
jjlay  of  his  avenging  justice. 

The  one,  it  is  probable,  died  expeditious- 
ly ;  was  suddenly  wouiided,  and  soon  slain. 
A  bullet  lodged  in  his  heart,  a  sword  sheath- 
^  in  his  breast,  or  a  battle-axe  cleaving  the 
brain,  might  put  a  speedy  end  to  his  misery  ; 
dispatch  him  "  as  in  a  moment." — Whereas 
the  divine  Redeemer  expired  in  tedious  and 
protracted  torments.  His  pangs  were  as 
lingering,  as  they  were  exquisite.  Even  in 
the  prelude  to  his  last  suffering,  what  a  load 
of  sorrows  overwhelmed  his  sacred  humani- 
■ty !  till  the  intolerable  pressiu-e  ■\\Tung  blood, 
instead  of  sweat  from  every  pore  ;  till  the 
crimson  flood  bathed  his  body,  stained  all 
his  raiment,  and  tinged  the  very  stones. — 
But  when  the  last  scene  of  the  tragedy  com- 
menced ;  x-ihen  the  executioner's  hammer  had 
nailed  him  to  the  cross,  O  !  how  many  dis- 
mal hours  did  that  amiable  and  illustrious 
sufferer  hang  ;  a  spectacle  of  woe  to  God,  to 
angels,  and  to  men !  his  temples  mangled  with 
the  thorny  cro\^ai !  his  hands  and  feet  cleft 
with  the  nigged  irons  !  his  flesh  covered  with 
wounds  smarting  and  agonizing  in  every 
nerve  !  and  his  soul,  his  very  soul,  pierced 
with  pangs  of  unutterable  distress  ! — So  long 
he  hung,  that  nature,  through  all  her  domin- 
ions, was  throv\'n  into  sympathizing  commo- 
tions. The  earth  could  no  longer  sustain 
such  barbarous  indignities  without  trembling, 
nor  the  son  behold  them  without  hoiTor. 
Nay,  so  long  did  he  hang  in  this  extremity 
-of  torture,  that  the   alarm  reached  even  the 

remote  regions  of  the  dead Never,  O  my 

sold,  never  forget  the  amazing  truth  -.  The 
lamb  of  God  was  seized,  was  bound,  was 
slaughtered  with  the  utmost  inhumanity, 
and  endured  death  in  all  its  bitterness,  for 
-thee  !  His  mm-dcrers,  studiously  cruel,  so 
guided  the  fatal  cup,  that  he  tasted  every 
drop  of  its  gall,  before  he  di'aiik  it  off  to  the 
very  dregs. 

Once  again  :  the  one  died  like  a  hero,  and 
fell  -gallantly  in  -the    field    of  battle.     But 


died  not  Christ  as  a  fool  dieth  !  *  Not  on 
the  bed  of  horiom-,  with  scars  of  glory  on  his 
breast ;  but  like  some  execrable  miscreant,  on 
a  gibbet !  with  lashes  of  the  vile  scourge  oii 
his  back !  Yes,  the  blessed  Jesus  bowed  hi* 
expiring  head  on  the  accursed  tree,  suspend- 
ed between  heaven  and  earth,  as  an  outcast 
from  both,  and  unworthy  of  cither. 

What  suitable  returns  of  intiamcd  and 
adoring  devotion,  can  we  make  to  the  Holy 
One  of  God,  thus  d)-ing,  that  we  might  live  ? 
dj-ing  in  ignominy  and  anguish,  that  we 
might  live  for  ever  in  the  heights  of  joy,  and 

sit  for  ever  on  thrones  of  gloiy Alas  !  it 

is  not  in  us,  impotent,  insensible  mortals,  to 
be  duly  thankful.  He  only  who  confers 
such  inconceivable  rich  favours,  can  enkirt 
die  a  proper  warmth  of  gratefid  affection. 
Then  biuld  thyself  a  monument,  most  gra- 
cious Immanuel,  build  thyself  an  everlasting 
monument  of  gratitude  in  our  soids.  In- 
scribe the  memory  of  thy  matchless  benefi- 
cence not  with  ink  and  pen,  but  v.ith  that 
precious  blood  which  gushed  from  thy 
wounded  veins.  Engrave  it,  not  with  the 
hammer  and  chisel,  but  with  that  sharpened 
spear,  which  pierced  thy  sacred  side.  Let  it 
stand  conspicuous  and  indelible,  not  on  out, 
ward  tables  of  stone,  but  on  the  very  inmost 
tables  of  our  hearts. 

One  thing  more,  let  me  observe  before  I 
bid  adieu  to  this  entombed  warrior,  and  his 
garnished  sepidchre.  How  mean  ai-e  those 
OKtentatious  methods  of  bribing  the  vote  of 
fame,  and  purchasing  a  little  posthumous  re- 
nown !  What  a  poor  substitute  for  a  set  of 
memorable  actions,  is  polished  alabaster,  or 
the  mimicry  of  sculptured  marble  !  The  real 
excellency  of  this  bleeding  patriotf  is  writ- 
ten on  the  minds  of  his  countiymen  ;  it 
woidd  be  remembered  with  a|3plause,  so 
long  as  the  nation  subsists,  without  this  ar- 
tificial   expedient  to    perjjetuate   it And 

such,  such  is  the  monument  I  would  wish 
for  myself.  Let  me  leave  a  memorial  in 
the  breasts  of  my  fellow-creatures.  Let 
survinng  friends  bear  witness  that  I  have 
not  lived  to  myself  alone,  nor  been  alto- 
gether unserviceable  in  my  generation.      O  1 


*  2  Sam.  iii.  33.  Of  this  indignity  our  Lord  com- 
plains, "  Are  ye  come  out  as  against  a  thief?"  Matlti. 
xxvi.  55. 

t  Sir  !  evil  Granville,  slam  in  the  civil  wars  at  an  en- 
gagement with  the  rebels. — It  may  poi-siblv  be  some  en- 
tertainment to  the  reader,  to  subjoin  Sir  lievil's  char- 
acter, asit  is  drawn  by  that  celebrated  [len  which  \vrote 
the  history  of  those  unfortunate  times.— "  That  which 
would  have  clouded  any  victory,  says  the  noble  histor- 
ian, and  made  the  loss  of  others  less  spoken  of,  was  the 
death  of  Sir  BevU  Granville.  He  was  indeed  an  excel- 
lent person,  whose  activity,  interest,  and  reputation, 
were  the  foundation  of  what  had  been  done  in  Corn- 
wall :  his  temncr  and  atfections  so  public,  that  no  ac- 
cident which  haii))ened,  could  make  any  impression 
upon  him  ;  and  his  example  kejit  others" from  taking 
any  thing  ill,  or  at  least  seeming  to  do  so.  In  a  word, 
a  brighter  courage,  and  a  gentler  disposition,  were 
never  married  together,  to  nydcethe  most  cheerful  .'Uid 
innocent  conversation.— CVai-.  Hist,  Hcb.  ml.  li. 


16 


MEDITATIONS  AMONTJ   THE   TOiMliS. 


let  an  uninterrupted  series  of  beneficent  ofB- 
ces  be  the  inscription,  and  the  best  interests 
of  my  acquaintance  the  plate  that  exhibits 
it. 

Let  the  poor,  as  they  pass  by  my  grave, 
point  at  the  little  spot,  and  thankfully  ac- 
knowledge,— "  There  lies  the  man,  whose 
unwearied  kindness  was  the  constant  relief  of 
my  \-arious  distresses  ;  who  tenderly  visited 
my  languishing  bed,  and  readily  supplied  my 
indigent  circumstances.  How  often  were 
his  counsels  a  guide  to  my  perplexed  thoughts, 
and  a  cordial  to  my  dejected  spirit!  It  is 
owing  to  God's  blessing  on  his  seasonable 
charities,  and  prudent  consolations,  that  I 
now  live,  and  live  in  comfort." — Let  a  per- 
son, once  ignorant  and  ungodly,  lift  up  his 
eyes  to  heaven,  and-  say  within  himself,  as  he 
walks  over  my  bones,  "  Here  are  the  last 
remains  of  that  sincere  friend,  who  watched 
for  my  soul.  I  can  never  forget  with  what 
heedless  gaiety  I  was  posting  on  in  the 
paths  of  perdition  ;  and  I  tremble  to  think, 
into  what  irretrievable  ruin  I  might  quickly 
have  been  plunged,  had  not  his  faithfid  ad- 
monitions met  me  in  the  wild  career.  I  was 
unacquainted  with  the  gospel  of  peace,  and 
had  no  concern  for  its  imsearchable  trea- 
sures ;  but  now,  enlightened  by  his  instruc- 
tive conversation,  I  see  the  all-sufficiency  of 
my  Saviour  ;  and,  animated  by  his  repeated 
exliortations,  I  count  all  things  but  loss  that 
I  may  win  Christ.  Methinks,  his  discourses, 
seasoned  with  religion,  a-nd  blessed  by  grace, 
still  tingle  in  my  ears ;  are  stiU  warm  on  my 
heart ;  and,  I  trust,  will  be  more  and  more 
operative,  till  we  meet  each  other  in  tlie 
house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens." 

The  only  infallible  way  of  immortaliz- 
ing our  characters,  a  way  equally  open  to 
the  meanest  and  most  exalted  fortinie,  is 
"  to  make  our  calling  and  election  sure  ;" 
to  gain  some  sweet  evidence,  that  our  names 
are  written  in'  heaven.  Then,  however 
they  may  be  disregarded,  or  forgotten  among 
men,  they  will  not  fail  to  be  had  in  everlast- 
ing remembrance  before   the    Lord This 

is  of  all  distinctions  far  the  noblest  j  this 
wiD  issue  in  never  dying-reno\\ni.  Am- 
bition, be  this  thy  object,  and  every  page  of 
-scripture    wiU    sanctify   the  passion  ;    even 

grace    itself  will    fan    thy   flame As    to 

earthly  memorials,  yet  a  little  wliile,  and 
they  are  all  obliterated.  The  tongue  of 
those,  whose  hajjpincss  we  have  zealously 
promoted,  must  soon  be  silent  in  the  coffin. 
Characters  cut  with  a  pen  of  iron,  and  com- 
mitted to  the  solid  rock,  will,  ere  long, 
cease  to  be  legible.*"  But  as  many  as  are 
inrolled  "in  the  Lamb's  book  of  Life,"  he 
himself  declares,  shall  never  be  blotted  out 


'  Data  sunt  ipsis  quoque  fata  scpiilchris. — Jiiv. 


from  those  aimals  of  eternity.  (Rev.  iii.  5.) 
When  a  flight  of  years  has  mouldered  the 
triumphal  column  into  dust ;  when  the  brazen 
statue  perishes,  imder  the  corroding  hand  of 
time ;  those  honours  still  continue ;  still 
are  blooming  and  incorru])tible,  in  the  world 
of  glory. 

Make  the  extended  skies  your  tomb  : 

Let  stars  record  your  worth  ; 
Vet  know,  vain  mortals,  all  must  die. 

As  nature's  sickliest  birth. 

Would  bounteous  heav'n  indulge  my  prayr, 

I  frame  a  nobler  choice ; 
Nor  living,  wish  the  pompous  pile; 

Nor  dead,  regret  the  loss. 

In  thy  fair  book  of  life  divine. 

My  God,  inscribe  my  name  ; 
There  let  it  fill  some  humble  place. 

Beneath  the  slaughter'd  Lamb. 

Thy  saints,  while  ages  roll  away, 

In  eudlessfame  survive; 
Their  glories  o'er  the  wrongs  of  time. 

Greatly  triumphant  live. 

Yonder  entrance  leads,  I  suppose,  to  the 
vault.       Let   me   turn  aside   and  fctke    one 

view  of  the  habitation,   and  its  tenants 

The  sullen  door  grates  upon  its  hinges  ;  not 
used  to  receive  many  visitants,  it  admits  me 

with  reluctance  and  murmurs What  mean- 

eth  tliis  sudden  trepidation,  while  I  descend 
the  steps,  and  am  visiting  the  pale  mansions 
of  the  dead  ? — Be  composed  my  spirits : 
there  is  nothing  to  fear  in  these  quiet  cham- 
bers ;  here,  even  "  the  wicked  cease  from 
troubling." 

Good  heavens !  what  a  solemn  scene ! 
how  dismal  the  gloom !   Here   is  perpetual 

darkness,  and  night  even  at  noon-day How 

doleful  the  solitude  !  Not  one  trace  of  cheer- 
ful society ;  but  sorrow  and   terror  seem  to 

have  made  this  their  dread   abode Hark! 

how  the  hollow  dome  resounds  at  every 
tread.  The  echoes,  that  long  have  slept, 
arc  awakened,  and  whisper  along  the  walls, 

A  beam  or  two  finds  its  way  through  the 
grates,  and  reflects  a  feeble  glimmer  from  the 
nails  of  the  coffins.  So  many  of  those  sad 
spectacles,  half  concealed  in  shades,  half 
seen   dimly  by  the  baleful   twilight,   add  a 

deeper  horror  to  these  gloomy  mansions I 

pore  upon  the  inscriptions,  and  am  just  able 
to  pick  out,  that  these  are  the  remains  of 
the  rich  and  reno^^Tled.  No  vulgar  dead 
are  deposited  here.  The  most  illustrious, 
and  right  honourable,  have  claimed  this  for 
their  last  retreat.  And  indeed,  they  retain 
somewhat  of  a  shadowy  pre-eminence.  They 
lie,  ranged  in  mom-nful  order,  and  in  a  sort 
of  silent  pomp,  under  the  arches  of  an  ample 
sepulchre :  while  meaner  corpses,  without 
much  ceremony,  "  go  Aowa.  to  the  stones  of 
the  pit." 

]\Iy  apprehensions  recover  from  their  sur- 
prise. I  find  here  are  no  phantoms,  but 
sucli  as  fear  raises.  Ho\vever,  it  stil! 
amazes  me,  to  observe  the  \\'onders  of  thii 


MEDITATIONS   AMONG   THE   TOMBS. 


17 


nctluT  world.  Those  who  received  vast 
revenues,  and  called  whole  lordshijjs  their 
own,  are  here  reduced  to  half  a  dozen 
feet  of  earth,  or  confined  in  a  few  sheets  of 
lead.  Rooms  of  state  and  sumptuous  fur- 
niture, are  resigned  for  no  other  ornament 
than  the  shroud,  for  no  other  apartment 
than  the  darksome  niche.  Where  is  the 
star  that  bHzed  upon  the  hreast ;  or  the 
coronet  that  glittered  round  the  temples  ? 
The  only  remains  of  departed  dignity  are, 
the  weather-beaten  hatchment,  and  th.e  tat- 
tered escutclieo7i.  I  see  no  s])lendid  re- 
tinue siHTOunding  this  solitaiy  dwelling. 
The  lordly  equipage  hovers  no  longer  about 
the  lifeless  master.  He  has  no  other  at- 
tendant than  a  dusty  statue ;  which,  while 
the  regardless  world  is  as  gay  as  ever,  the 
sculptor's  hand  is  taught  to  weep. 

Those  N^ho  gloried  in  high  born  ances- 
tors, and  noble  pedigree,  here  drop  their 
lofty  pretensions.  They  acknowledge  kind- 
red with  creeping  things,  and  quarter  arms 
with  the  meanest  reptiles.  They  say  to 
corruption,  Thou  art  my  father ;  and  to 
the  worm,    Thou  art  my  mother  and  my 

sister Or  should  they  still    assume    the 

style  of  distinction,  alas !  how  impotent 
were  the  claim  !  how  ap])arent  the  ostenta- 
tion !  it  is  said  by  their  monument,  here  lies 
the  great!  how  easily  is  it  replied  by  the 
spectator  ? — False  marble  !  Where  !  No- 
thing but  poor  and  sordid  dust  lies  here. 
Mortifying  truth !  sufficiQiit,  one  would 
think,  to  wean  the  most  sanguine  appetite 
from  this  transitory  state  of  things  ;  from 
its  sickly  satisfactions,  its  fading  glories,  its 
vanishing  treasures. 

For  now,  ye  lying  vanities  of  life ! 

A'e  ever  tempting,  ever  cheating  train  I 

Where  are  ye  now,  and  what  is  your  amount  ?• 

Wliat  is  all  the  world  to  these  poor 
breathless  beings? — What  are  their  plea- 
sures ?  A  bubble  broke.— What  their  ho- 
nours?   A  dream  that  is  forgotten 'WTiat 

the  sum-total  of  their  enjoyments  below  ? 
Once,  perhaps,  it  appeared  to  inexperience 
and  fond  desire,  something  considerable ; 
but  now  death  has  measured  it  M'ith  his 
line,  and  weighed  it  in  his  scale ;  what  is 
the  upshot?  Alas  !  it  is  shorter  than  a  span, 
lighter  than  the  danchig  spark,  and  driven 
away  like  the  dissolving  smoke. 

Indulge  my  soul,  a  serious  pause.  Re- 
collect all  the  giiy  things  that  were  wont  to 
dazzle  thine  eyes,  and  inveigle  thy  affections. 
Here  examine   those  baits   of  sense  ;  here 

form  an  estimate  of  their  real  value.      Sup-   •  ,      ,  i«-     t  , 

pose  thyself  first  among  the   favourites  of  'l^g  Prom«"torys  craggy  cliff;   I  have  some- 
fortmie,  who  revel  in   the  lap  of  pleasure, 


how  soon  woidd  the  passing-bell  procLiini 
thy  exit '  and  when  once  that  iron  call  La,s 
summoned  thee  to  thy  future  reckoning, 
where  would  all  these  gratifications  be? 
At  that  period,  how  will  all  the  pageantry 
of  the  most  affluent,  conspicuous,  or  lux- 
urious circumstances,  vanish  into  empty 
air  ! — And  is  this  a  happiness  so  passion- 
ately to  be  coveted  ? 

I  thank  you,  ye  relics  of  sounding  titles, 
and  magnificent  names  ;  ye  have  taught  me 
more  of  the  littleness  of  the  world,  than 
all  the  vohmies  of  my  library.  Your  no- 
bility, arrayed  in  a  winding-sheet  ;  your 
grandeur,  mouldering  in  an  urn ;  are  the 
most  indisputable  proofs  of  the  nothingness 
of  created  things.  Never,  surely,  did  Pro- 
vidence write  this  important  point,  in  such 
legible   characters,   as  in   the  ashes  of  my 

Lord,   or  on  the  corpse  of  his  Grace.* 

Let  others,  if  they  please,  pay  their  obse- 
quious court  to  your  wealthy  sons  ;  and  ig- 
nobly fawn,  or  anxiously  sue  for  prefer- 
ments ;  my  thoughts  shall  often  resort,  in 
pensive  contemplation,  to  the  sepulchre  of 
their  sires  ;  and  learn  from  their  sleeping 
dust — to  moderate  my  expectations  from 
mortals ;  to  stand  disengaged  from  every 
undue  attachment  to  the  little  interests  of 
time — to  get  above  the  delusive  amuse- 
ments of  honour,  the  gaudy  tinsels  of  wealth, 
and  all  the  empty  shadows  of  a  perishing 
world. 

Hark !  what  sound  is  that  ? — In  such  a 
situation,  every  noise  alarms — Solemn  and 

slow  it  breaks  again  upon  the  silent  air It 

is  the  striking  of  the  clock,  designed,  one 
v.ould  imagine,  to  ratify  all  my  serious  me- 
ditations. Methinks  it  says  Amen,  and 
sets  a  seal  to  every  improving  hint.  It  tells 
me.  That  another  portion  of  my  appointed 
time  is  elapsed.  One  calls  it,  "  The  knell 
of  my  dei)arted  hours."  It  is  the  watch- 
word to  vigilance  and  activity.  It  cries,  in 
the  ear  of  reason,  "  Redeem  the  time. 
Catch  the  favourable  gales  of  opportunity  : 
O  !  catch  them  while  they  breathe ;  before 
they  are  irrecoverably  lost.  The  span  of 
life  shortens  continuaUy.  Thy  minutes 
are  aU  upon  the  wing,  and  hastening  to  be 
gone.  Thou  art  a  borderer  upon  eternity, 
and  making  incessant  advances  to  the  state 
thou  art  contemplating."  ]May  the  admo- 
nition sink  deep  into  an  attentive  and  obe- 
dient mind  !  ]\Iay  it  teach  me  that  heaven- 
ly arithmetic  of  "  numberhig  my  days,  and 
apj)lying  my  heart  unto  wisdom  I" 

I  have  often  walked  beneath  the  impend- 


M'ho    shine   in 
swiin   in   tides 


the    robes   of  honour,    and 
of  inexhausted  riches  ;  yet 


Thomson's  Winter,  line  210   last  edit. 


times  trod  the  vast  spaces  of  the  lonely  de- 
sert, and  penetrated  the  inmost  recesses  of 


•  — Mors  sola  satetur 

Quantuia  sint  hoininum  corpuscula.— .7ii 


18 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


the  dreary  caveni ;  but  never,  never  beliekl 
nature  lowering,  with  so  tremendous  a 
form  ;  never  felt  such  impressions  of  awe, 
striking  cold  on  my  heart,  as  under  these 
Uack-browed  arches,  amidst  these  moiddy 
M^lls,  and  surrounded  by  such  rueful  ob- 
jects: where  melancholy,  deepest  melan- 
choly, for  ever  spreads  her  raven-wings — 
Let  me  now  emerge  from  the  damp  and 
dreadful  obscurity. — Farewell,  ye  seats  of 
desolation,  and  shades  of  death  ! — Gladly  I 
revisit  the  realms  of  day. 

Having  cast  a  superficial  view  upon  these 
receptacles  of  the  dead,  curiosity  prompts 
my  inquiry  to  a  more  intimate  survey. 
Could  we  draw  back  the  covering  of  the 
tomb ;  could  we  discern  what  those  are 
now,  who  once  were  mortals  ; — oh  !  how 
would  it  surprise  and  grieve  us  !  Surprise 
us,  to  behold  the  prodigious  transformation 
which  has  taken  place  on  every  individual ; 
grieve  us,  to  observe  the  dishonour  done  to 
our  nature  in  general  within  these  subter- 
raneous lodgments  ! 

Here  the  sweet  and  mnning  aspect,  that 
wore  perpetually  an  attractive  smile,  grins 
horribly  a  naked,  ghastly  skull. — The  eye, 
that  outshone  the  diamond's  brilliancy,  and 
glanced  its  lovely  lightnings  into  the  most 
guarded  heart,  alas  I  where  is  it  ?  Where  shall 
we  find  the  rolling  sparkler  ! — How  are  all 
its  sprightly  beams  eclipsed,  totally  eclipsed  ! 
— The  tongue,  that  once  commanded  all  the 
sweetnessof  harmony,  and  all  the  powers  of 
eloquence,  in  this  strange  land  has  "  Torgot 
its  cunning."  Wliere  are  now  those  strains 
of  melody,  which  ravished  our  ears  ?  Where 
is  that  flow  of  persuasion,  which  carried 
captive  our  judgments?  The  great  master 
of  language,  arid  of  song,  is  become  silent 
as  the  night  that  sun-ounds  him. — The 
pampered  flesh,  so  lately  clothed  in  purple 
and  fine  linen,  how  is  it  covered  rudely  with 
clods  of  clay  !  There  was  a  time  when 
the  timerously  nice  creature  would  scarce 
"  adventure  to  set  a  foot  upon  the  ground, 
for  delicateness  and  tenderness,"  (Dent. 
XK\dii.  53.)  bat  is  now  enwrapped  in  clam- 
niy  earth,  and  sleeps  on  no  softer  a  piUow 
tlian  the  nigged  gravel  stones — Here  "  the 
string  men  bow  themselves  ;"  the  nervous 
iirm  is  unstrung :  the  brawny  sinews  are 
relaxed  ;  the  limbs,  not  long  ago  the  seats  of 
vigour  and  activity,  lie  down  motionless ; 
and  the  bojies  which  were  as  bars  of  iron, 
are  crumbled  into  dust. 

Here  the  man  of  business  forgets  all  his 
favourite  schemes,  and  discontinues  the 
jnirsuit  of  gain.  Here  is  a  total  stand  to 
the  circulation  of  merchandize,'  and  the  hur- 
ry of  trade.  In  these  solitary  recesses,  as 
in  the  building  of  Solomon's  temple,  is 
heard  no  sound  of  the  hammer  and  axe. 
The  winding-sheet  and  the  coflin  are  the 
utmost  bound  of  all  earthly  devices  ;  "  Hi- 


therto may  they  go,  but  no  farther." — Here' 
the  sons  of  pleasure  take  a  final  farewell 
of  their  dear  delights.  No  more  is  the 
sensualist  anointed  with  oil,  or  cro\vned 
with  rosebuds ;  he  chants  no  more  to  the 
melody  of  the  viol,  nor  revels  any  longer  at 
the  banquet  of  wine.  Instead  of  sumptu- 
ous tables  and  delicious  treats,  the  poor 
voluptuary  is  himself  a  feast  for  fattened 
insects  ;  the  reptile  riots  in  his  flesh,  "  the 
worm  feeds  sweetly  on  him."  (Job  xxiv.20. ) 
— Here  also  beauty  fails  ;  bright  beauty 
drops  her  lustre  here.  O  !  how  her  roses 
fade,  and  her  lilies  languish  in  this  bleak 
soil !  How  does  the  grand  leveller  pour 
contempt  upon  the  charmer  of  our  hearts  ! 
How  turn  to  deformity,  what  captivated  the 
world  before  ! 

Could  the  lover  have  a  sight  of  his  once 
enchanting  fair  one,  what  a  startling  aston- 
ishment woidd  seize  him  ! — "  Is  this  the  ob- 
ject I  not  long  ago  so  passionately  admired  ! 
I  said  she  was  divinely  fair,  and  thought  her 
somewhat  more  than  mortal.  Her  form  was 
symmetry  itself ;  eveiy  elegance  breathed  in 
her  air ;  and  all  the  graces  waited  on  her  mo- 
tions  It  was  music  when  she  spoke,  but 

when  she  spoke  encouragement,  it  was  little 
less  than  rapture.  How  my  heart  danced 
to  those  charming  accents  ! — And  can  that 
which  some  Aveeks  ago  was  to  admiration 
lovely,  be  now  so  insuflferably  loathsome  ! — 
Where  are  those  blushing  cheeks :  where  the 
coral  lips  ;  where  that  ivory  neck,  on  which 
the  curling  jet  in  such  glossy  ringlets  flow- 
ed ;  with  a  thousand  other  beauties  of  per- 
son, and  ten  thousand  delicacies  of  action  ?* 
— Amazing  alteration  !  delusory  bliss  ! — 
Fondly  I  gazed  upon  the  glittering  meteor  ; 
it  shone  brightly,  and  I  mistook  it  for 
a  star,  for  a  permanent  and  substantial  good. 
— But  how  is  it  fallen  !  fallen  from  an  orb 
not  its  oAvn !  and  all  that  I  can  trace  on- 
earth,  is  but  a  putrid  mass." 

Lie,  poor  FloreUo,  lie  deep  as  thou  dost 
in  obscure  darkness.  Let  night  with  her 
impenetrable  shades,  always  conceal  thee. 
May  no  prying  eye  be  witness  to  thy  dis- 
grace ;  but  let  thy  survi\dng  sisters  think 
upon  thy  state,  when  they  contemplate  the 
idol  in  the  glass.  When  the  pleasing  images 
rise  gracefully  to  view,  surrounded  M-ith  a 
world  of  charms  -.  and  flushed  with  joy  at 
the  consciousness  of  them  all  ; — then,  in 
some  minutes  of  temptation  and  danger, 
when  vanity  uses  to  steal  into  the  thoughts  ; 
—then  let  them  remember  what  a  veil  of 
horror  is  drawn  over  a  fiice,  which  was  once- 
beautiful  and  brilliant  as  theirs.  Such  a 
seasonable  reflection  might  regulate  the  la- 


*  Quo  fugit  Venus  !  Heo!  quove  color  ?  dcCKis 
Quo  motis?  Quid  ha'jet  illius,  illius, 
(,1ua>  sjiirabat  amores, 
yi.!£s  me  surpuerat  mih:  ? — Hoi'- 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


I 'J 


bonis  of  the  toilet,  aiifl  create  a  more  earn- 
est solieitiide  to  polish  the  jewel,  than  to 
varnish  the  casket.  It  iiiij,dit  then  become 
their  highest  ambition,  tu  have  the  mind 
decked  with  divine  virtues,  and  dressed  after 
the  amiable  pattern  of  their  Redeemer's  ho- 
liness. 

And  would  this  prejudice  their  persons, 
or  depreciate  their  charms  ? — Quite  the  re- 
verse :  it  would  spread  a  sort  of  heavenly 
glory  over  the  finest  set  of  features,  and 
heighten  the  loveliness  of  every  other  en- 
gaging accomplishment And  what  is  yet 

a  more  inviting  consideration,  these  flowers 
would  not  wither  with  nature,  nor  be  tar- 
nished by  time  :  but  would  open  continual- 
ly into  richer  beauties,  and  flourish  even  in 
the  winter  of  age But  the  most  incom- 
parable recommendation  of  these  noble 
qualities  is,  that  from  their  hallowed  relics 
as  from  the  fragrant  ashes  of  the  phoenix, 
win  ere  long  arise  an  illustrious  form,  bright 
as  the  -wings  of  angels,  lasting  as  the  light  of 
the  new  Jerusalem. 

For  my  part,  the  remembrance  of  this 
sad  revolution  shall  make  me  ashamed  to 
pay  my  devotion  to  a  shrine  of  perishing 
flesh,  and  afraid  to  exi)ect  all  my  happiness 
from  so  brittle  a  joy.  It  shall  teach  me, 
not  to  think  too  highly  of  well  proportion- 
ed clay,  though  formed  in  the  most  elegant 
moidd,  and  animated  with  the  sweetest  soul. 
'Tis  heaven's  last,  best,  and  cro\«nng  gift, 
to  be  received  with  gratitude,  and  cherished 
with  love,  as  a  most  valuable  blessing  ;  not 
worshipjied  with  the  incense  of  flattery,  and 
strains  of  fulsome  adoration,  as  a  goddess. 
— It  will  cure,  I  trust,  the  dotage  of  my 
eyes  :  and  incline  me  always  to  prefer  the 
substantial  "  ornaments  of  a  meek  and  vir- 
tuous spirit,"  before  the  transient  decora- 
lions  of  white  and  red  on  the  skin. 

Here  I  called  in  my  roving  meditations 
from  their  long  excursion  on  this  tender 
subject.  Fancy  listened  a  while  to  the  so- 
liloquy of  a  lover  ;  now  judgment  resumes 
the  reins,  and  guides  my  thoughts  to  more 
near  and  self-interesting  inquiries. — IIow- 
e\'er,  upon  a  review  of  the  whole  scene, 
crowded  with  sitectacles  of  mortality  and 
trophies  of  death,  I  could  not  forbear  smit- 
ing my  breast,  and  fetching  a  sigh,  and  la- 
menting over  the  noblest  of  all  visible  be- 
ings, lying  in  ruins  uiuler  the  feet  of  "  the 
pale  horse,  and  his  rider."  (Rev.  vi.  8.) 
I  could  not  forbear-  tliat  pathetic  exclama- 
tion, "  O  !  thou  Adam,  what  hast  thou 
done  !"  (2  Esdr.  vii.  41.)  What  desolation 
has  thy  disobedience  wrought  in  the  earth  ! 
See  the  malignity,  the  ruinous  malignity, 
of  sin  !  Sin  has  demolished  so  many  stately 
structiu'es  of  flesh;  sin  has  made  such  havoc 
among  the  most  excellent  ranks  of  Gud's 
lower  creation  ;  and  sin  (that  deadly  bane  of 
our  nation)  would  have  plunged  our  better 


part  into  the  execrable  horrors  of  the  nether- 
most hell,  had  not  our  mercifLd  Mediator  in- 
terposed, and  given  himself  for  our  ransom. 
— Therefore,  what  grateful  acknowledg- 
ments does  the  whole  world  of  penitent  sin- 
ners owe  ;  what  ardent  retiu-ns  of  lo\e  will 
a  whole  lieaven  of  glorified  believers  pay  to 
such  a  friend,  benefactor  and  deliverer ! 

JMusing  upon  these  melancholy  objects, 
afaithfid  remembrancer  suggests  from  v/ith- 
in — "  JVIust  this  sad  change  succeed  in  me 
also  ?  Am  I  to  draw  my  last  gasp,  to  be- 
come a  breathless  corjjse,  and  to  be  what  I  de- 
plore ?*  Is  thei-e  a  time  approacliing,  when 
this  body  shall  be  carried  out  uj:>on  the  bier, 
and  consigned  to  its  clay-cold  bed  ?  while 
some  kind  acquaintance,  perhaps,  may  drop 
one  parting  tear  ;  and  cry,  alas  !  my  brother, 
— Is  the  time  approaching  ?" — Nothing  is 
more  certain.  A  degree,  much  surer  than 
the  law  of  the  Medes  and  Persians,  has  ir 
revocably  determined  the  doom. 

Should  one  of  these  ghastly  figures  burst 
from  his  confinement,  and  start  up  in  fright- 
ful deformity  before  me  ; — should  the  hag- 
gard skeleton  lift  a  clattering  hand,  and 
point  it  full  in  my  \-iew  ; — shoidd  it  open, 
the  stifl!ened  jaws,  and  with  a  hoarse  tre- 
mendous miu'mm-,  break  this  profound  si- 
lence ; — should  it  accost  me,  as  Samuel's 
apparition  addressed  the  trembling  king — 
"  The  Lord  shall  deliver  thee  also  into  the 
hands  of  death ;  yet  a  little  wldle,  and  thou 
shalt  be  with  me."f — The  solemn  warning, 
delivered  in  so  striking  a  manner  :  must 
strongly  impress  my  imagination  ;  a  message 
in  thunder  would  scarce  sink  deeper.  Yet 
there  is  abundantly  greater  reason  to  be 
alarmed  by  that  express  declaration  of  the 
Lord  God  Almighty,  "  Thou  shalt  surely 
die." — Well  then,  since  sentence  is  passed, 
since  I  am  a  condemned  man,  and  know  not 
wheii  the  dead  warrant  may  arrive  let  me 
die  to  sin,  and  die  to  the  world,  before  I  die 
beneath  the  stroke  of  a  righteous  God.  Let 
me  employ  the  little  uncertain  interval  of 
respite  from  execution,  in  preparing  for  a 
happier  state  and  a  better  life  !  that,  wheii. 
the  ratal  moment  comes,   and   I  am  com- 


*  I  pass,  with  melancholy  state. 

By  all  these  solemn  heaps  of  fate; 

And  think,  as  soft  anil  sad  1  tread. 

Above  the  venerable  dead. 

"  Ti;ne  was,  like  me,  they  life  possess'd , 

And  time  will  be  when  I  shall  rest."  Pwnel. 
t  1  Sam.  xxxviii.  li).  On  this  place,  the  Dutch 
translator  of  the  Meditations  has  added  a  note;  to 
correct,  very  probably,  what  he  supposes  a  mistake. 
On  tlie  same  supposition,  I  presume,  the  compilers  of 
our  rubric,  ordered  the  last  verse  of  Kcclus.  xlvi.  to  be 
omitted,  in  the  daily  service  of  the  church.  But  that 
the  sentiment  hinted  above,  is  strictly  true  ;  that  it 
was  Samuel  liimself  (not  an  infernal  spirit,  personat- 
ing the  prophet)  who  appeared  to  the  female  necro- 
mancer at  Kndor :  appeared  not  in  compliance  with 
any  diabolical  incantation,  but  in  pursuance  of  the  di- 
vine commission  ;  this,  I  think,  is  fully  proved  in  the 
Historical  .vccount  of  the  life  of  David,  Vol.  1.  chap. 


5a> 


MEDITATIONS   AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


nianded  to  shut  my  eyes  upon  all  things 
here  below,  I  may  open  them  again,  to  see 
my  Saviour  in  the  mansions  above. 

Since  this  body,  \vhich  is  so  fearfully 
and  Avonderfiilly  made,  nuist  fall  to  ])ieces  in 
the  grave  ;  since  1  nnist  soon  resign  all  my 
bodily  powers  to  darkness,  inacti\aty  and 
corruption  :  let  it  be  my  constant  care  to 
use  them  well,  while  I  j)ossess  them  ! — Let 
my  hands  be  stretched  forth  to  relieve  the 
needy,  and  always  be  "  more  ready  to  give 
than  to  receive." — Let  my  knees  bend  in 
deepest  humiliation  before  the  throne  of 
grace  ;  while  my  eyes  are  cast  down  to  the 
earth  in  penitential  confusion,  or  devoutly 
looking  u])  to  heaven  for  pardoning  mercy  ! 
— In  every  friendly  interview,  let  the  "law 
of  kindness  dwell  on  my  li]js  ;"  or  rather  if 
the  seriousness  of  my  acquaintance  permits, 
Jet  the  gospel  of  peace  flow  from  my  tongue. 
O  !  that  I  might  be  enabled  in  every  public 
concourse,  to  lift  up  my  voice  like  a  trum- 
pet ;  and  jjour  abroad  a  more  joyful  sound 
tluin  its  most  melodious  accents,  in  ])ro- 
clainiing  the  glad  tidings  of  free  salvation  ! 
— Be  shut,  my  ears,  resolutely  shut,  against 
the  malevolent  whispers  of  slander  and  the 
contagious  breath  of  filthy  talking  ;  but  be 
swift  to  hear  the  instructions  of  wisdom,  be 
all  attention  when  your  Redeemer  speaks  ; 
imbibe  the  precious  truths,  and  convey  them 

carefully  to  the  heart Carry  me,  my  feet, 

to  the  temple  of  the  Lord  ;  to  the  beds  of 
the  sick,  and  houses  of  the  poor.  May  all 
my  members,  devoted  entirely  to  my  divine 
Master,  be  the  willing  instruments  of  pro- 
moting his  glor\-. 

Then,  ye  embalmers,  you  may  spare  your 
pains  ;  these  works  of  faith  and  labours  of 
love  ;  these  shall  be  my  spices  and  perfumes. 
Enwrapped  in  these,  I  would  lay  me  gently 
down,  aiid  sleep  sweetly  in  the  blessed  Je- 
sus ;  hoping  that  God  will  "  give  command- 
ment concerning  my  bones  ;"  and  ojie  day 
letch  them  up  from  the  dust,  as  silver  from 
the  fiuiiace  piuilied, — "  I  say  not  seven 
times,  but  seventy  times  seven." 

Here  my  coiiti;inplation  took  wing  ;  and, 
in  un  iiistant  alighted  in  the  garden  adjoin- 
ing to  Mount  Calvary.  Having  viewed  the 
abode  of  my  deceased  fellow-creatures,  me- 
thoiight  I  longed  to  see  the  place  where  our 
Lord  lay.  And,  oh  what  a  marvellous 
spectacle  was  once  exhibited  in  this  memor- 
able i^epukhre  !  He*  "  who  clothes  him- 
self with  light,  as  with  a  garment  ;  and 
walks  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind  ;"•)•  He 
was  pleased  to  wear  the  habiliments  of  mor- 


•  Darkness  !iis  curtain  and  his  bed  the  dust, 

Tlio'  sun  and  stars  are  dust  beneath  his  throne. 

NiiCht  Tlioiiffht.i. 

i  The  sacred  scriptures,  speaking  of  the  supreme 

Being,  say— He  walketh  upon  the  waves  of  the  sea,  to 

denote  hu  uu^'OiiuoLablc    power.   Job.  ix.  U.— Me 


tality,  and  dwelt  among  the  prostrate  dead. 
— Who  can  repeat  the  wondrous  truth  too 
often  ?  Who  can  dwell  upon  the  transport- 
ing theme  too  long?  He  who  sits  enthron- 
ed in  glory,  and  diffuses  bliss  among  idl  the 
heavenly  hosts,  was  once  a  pale  and  bloody 
corpse,  and  pressed  this  little  spot. 

O  death  !  how  great  was  thy  triumph  ia 
that  hour !   Never  did   thy  gloomy  realms 

contain  such  a  prisoner  before Prisoner, 

did  I  say  ?  No  ;  he  was  more  than  conquer- 
or. He  arose  far  more  inightily  than  Sam- 
son, from  a  transient  slumber,  broke  down 
the  gates,  and  demolished  the  strongholds 

of  those    dark    dominions And    this,    O 

mortals,  this  is  our  only  consolation  and 
security.  Jesus  has  trod  the  dreadful  path, 
and  smoothed  it  for  our  passage. — Jesus 
sleeinng  in  the  chambers  of  the  tomb,  has 
brightened  the  dismal  mansion,  and  left  an 
inviting  odour  in  those  beds  of  dust.  The 
dying  Jesus  (never  let  the  comfortable  truth 
depart  from  your  minds)  is  your  sure  protec- 
tion, your  unquestionable  passport  through 
the  territories  of  the  grave.  Believe  in  him,, 
and  they  shall  prove  a  "highway  to  Sion  ;" 
shall  transmit  you  safe  to  paradise.  Believe 
in  him ;  and  you  shall  be  no  losers,  but  un- 
speakable gainers,  by  your  dissolution.  Fot 
hear  what  the  oracle  of  heaven  says  uj)on 
this  important  point.  Whoso  believeth  in 
me,  shall  never  die."  (John  xi.  26.) — What 
sublime  and  emphatical  language  is  this  ! 
Thus  much,  at  least,  it  must  import  ; — 
"  The  nature  of  that  last  change  shall 
be  siu'iJiisingly  altered  for  the  better.  It 
shall  no  longer  be  inflicted,  as  a  punish- 
ment ;  but  rather  be  vouchsafed  as  a  bless- 
ing. To  such  persons,  it  shall  come  attend- 
ed with  such  a  train  of  benetits,  as  will  ren- 
der it  a  kind  of  hajjpy  impropriety,  to  call  it 
dying.  Dying  !  No  ;  'tis  then  they  truly 
begin  to  live.  Their  exit  is  the  end  of  their 
frailty,  and  their  entrance  uj)on  perfection^ 
Their  last  groan  is  the  prelude  to  Life  and 
immortality." 

O  ye  timorous  soids,  that  ai'e  terrified  at 
the  sound  of  the  passLUg-bell ;  that  turn  pale 


walketh  in  the  circuit  of  heaven,  to  expres*  the  in:- 
mensiiy  of  his  presence.  Job  xxii.  14. — He  walkc;h 
upon  the  winps  of  the  wind,  to  signify  the  araaziny 
swiftness  of  his  ojieration,  Psal.  civ.  3. — In  which 
last  phrase,  there  is,  I  think,  an  elegance  and  em- 
phasis, not  taken  notice  of  by  our  commentators,  and 
yet  unequalled  in  anv  writer.'— Not  he  flielh  ;  he  run- 
neth ;  but  he  walketh ;  and  that  on  the  very  wings  of 
the  wind  ;  one  of  the  most  impetuous  elements,  rous- 
ed into  its  utmost  rage,  and  sweeping  along  with  in- 
conceivable rapidity.  A  tumult  in  nature,  not  to  be 
described,  is  tne  composed  and  sedate  work  of  the 
Deity.  A  speed  not  to  be  measured,  is  (with  rever- 
ence I  use  the  expression,  and  to  comport  with  our 
low  methods  of  conception)  the  solemn  and  majes.ic 
foot-pace  of  Jrhovah.— How  fiat  are  the  following 
lines,  even  in  tli£  great  master  of  lyric  song, 
Ocyor  cervis,  et  agente  nimbos 
Ocyor  Furo, 
when  compared  with  this  inimitable  stroke  of  divine 
poetry  I — He  walkuth  upon  the  win^-s  of  the  wiud. 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE   TOMBS. 


21 


nt  the  sight  of  an  opened  grave  ;  and  can 
scarce  behold  a  coffin,  or  a  skull,  without  a 
shuddering  horror  ;  ye  that  are  in  bondage  to 
the  grisly  tyrant,  and  tremble  at  the  shak- 
ing of  his  iron  rod  ;  ci-y  mightily  to  the  Fa- 
ther of  your  spirits,  fur  tailh  in  his  dear 
Son.  Faith  will  free  you  from  your  sla- 
very.* Faith  will  embolden  you  to  tread 
pii  (this  fiercest  of)  serpents,  (Lukex.  19.) 
Old  Simeon,  clasi)ing  the  child  Jesus  in  the 
arms  of  his  flesh,  and  the  glorious  Mediator 
ill  the  arms  of  his  faith,  departs  with  tran- 
(juillity  and  peace.  That  bitter  persecutor 
Saul,  having  won  Christ,  being  found  in 
Christ,  longs  to  be  dismissed  from  cum- 
brous clay,  and  kindles  into  rapture  at  the 
prospect  of  dissolution,  (Phil.  i.  23.  2 
Tim.  iv.  7,  8. )  Methiiiks  I  see  another 
of  Immanuel's  followers,  trusting  in  his  Sa- 
viour, leaning  on  his  Beloved,  go  down  to 
the  silent  shades  with  composure  and  alac- 
rity, (2  Pet.  i.  14.)  In  this  powerful  name, 
an  innumerable  company  of  siiifid  creatures 
have  set  up  their  banners  ;  and  "  overcome 
through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb."  i\uthor- 
ized  by  the  Captain  of  thy  salvation,  thou 
also  mayest  set  thy  feet  upon  the  neck  of 
tins  king  of  terrors.  Furnished  with  this 
antidote,  thou  also  mayest  play  around  the 
hole  of  the  asp,  and  put  thy  undaunted  hand 
on  this  cockatrice  den,  (Isa.  xi.  8.)  Thou 
mavest  feel  the  viper  fastening  to  thy  mor- 
tal j)art,  and  fear  no  evil  :  Thou  slialt  one 
day  shake  it  off  by  a  joyful  resurrection,  and 
suffer  no  harm,  (Acts  xxviii.  35.) 

KesuiTcction  !  that  cheering  word  eases 
my  mind  of  an  anxious  thought,  and  solves 
a  most  momentous  question.  I  was  going 
to  ask,  "  Wherefore  do  all  these  corjjses  lie 
here,  in  this  abject  condition  ?  Is  this  their 
final  state  ?  Has  death  conquered  ?  and 
M ill  the  tyrant  hold  captivity  caj;tive  ?  How 
long  wilt  thou  forget  them,  O  Lord  ?  For 
i'\cr  ?" — No,  saitli  the  voice  from  heaven, 
the  word  of  divine  revelation:  The  riglite- 
<)us  are  all  "  prisoners  of  hope  ;"  (Zech.  ix 
12.)  There  is  an  hour  (an  awful  secret 
that,  and  known  only  to  all-foreseeing  wis- 


•  neatli's  terror  is  the  mnuntain  faith  removes  ; 
'Tis  faith  disanns  (icstiucLion — 
Believe,  ami  looii  wilix  tiiumph  on  the  tomb. 
These  ami  some  oilier  quotations  1  am  proud  to  bor- 
row from  the  Night  Thoughts,  especially  from  Night 
the  Fotrth  ;  in  which  energy  of  langu  ge,  sublimity 
of  stn.imcnt,  and  the  most  exquisite  beauties  of  poe- 
try arc  the  least  perfections  to  be  admired.  Almost 
every  line  glows  with  devotion,  rises  into  the  most 
exalted  apprehensions  of  the  adorable  'iedecmcr,  and 
is  animated  with  the  most  lively  faith  in  his  all-suffi- 
cient mediation.  The  author  of  this  excellent  per- 
formance h.is  the  peculiar  felicity  of  ennobling  all  the 
strength  of  style,  and  every  delicacy  of  imagniation, 
¥.■1111  the  grand  and  momentous  truths  of  Christiani- 
ty. These  thoughts  give  the  highest  entertainment 
to  the  fancy,  and  impart  the  nobiesl  improvement  to 
the  mind  ;  they  not  only  refine  our  taste,  but  prepare 
lis  for  death,  and  lipen  us  for  glory.  1  never  take  up 
this  admirable  piece,  but  1  am  ready  to  cry  out, — Te- 
cum vivcre  amein,  tecum obeam  lihens.  i.e.  "Inspire 
me  with  sue!)  a  spii  it,  and  life  sliall  be  delightful,  nor 
dialh  itse  f  unwelcome." 


dom)  an  appointed  hour  there  is,  when  an 
act  of  grace  will  pass  the  great  seal  above, 
and  give  them  an  universal  discharge,  a  ge- 
neral delivery  from  the  abodes  of  corrup- 
titjii.  Then  shall  the  Lord  Jesus  descend 
from  heaven,  with  the  sh  ut  of  the  archan- 
gel, and  the  tnnnp  of  God.  Destruction 
itself  shall  hear  his  call,  and  the  obedient 
grave  give  up  her  dead.  In  a  moment,  iu 
the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  they  shake  off  the 
sleep  of  ten  thousand  years,  and  spring 
forth,  like  the  bounding  roe,  "  to  meet  their 
Lord  in  the  air." 

And,  O  !  with  what  cordial  congratula- 
tions, what  transjiorting  endearments,  do  the 
soul  and  body,  those  affectionate  compan- 
ions, re-unite  !  But  with  how  much  greater 
demonstrations  of  kindness,  are  they  both 
received  by  their  compassionate  Redeemer  ! 
The  Ancient  of  days,  who  comes  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven,  is  their  friend,  their  fa- 
ther, their  bridegroom.  He  comes  with 
irresistible  power,  and  infinite  glory.  But 
they  have  nothing  to  fear  from  his  majestic 
appearance.  Those  ti'cmendous  solemni- 
ties, which  spread  desolation  and  astoni.-h- 
ment  through  the  universe,  serve  only  to  in- 
flame their  love,  and  heighten  their  hopes. 
The  Judge,  the  awful  Judge,  'midst  all  his 
magnificence  and  splendour,  vouchsafes  to 
confess  their  names,  vouchsafes  to  comme- 
morate their  fidelity,  before  all  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  skies,  and  the  whole  assembled 
world. 

Hark !  the  thunders  are  hushed.  See  ! 
the  lightnings  cease  tlieir  rage,  the  angelic 
armies  stand  in  silent  susjiense  ;  the  whole 
race  of  Adam  is  wrapt  in  pleasing  or  an.x- 
ious  expectation. — And  now  that  adorable 
person,  whose  favour  is  better  than  life, 
whose  acceptance  is  a  crown  of  glory,  lifts 
up  the  light  of  his  countenance  upon  the 
righteous.  He  speaks ;  and  what  ravish- 
ing words  proceed  from  his  gi-acious  lips  ! 
What  ecstasies  of  delight  they  enkindle  in 
the  breasts  of  the  faithful !  "  I  accejit  you, 
O  my  people  !  Ye  are  they  that  believed 
in  my  name.  Ye  are  they  that  renounced 
yourselves,  and  are  complete  in  me.  I  see 
no  spot  or  blemish  in  you  :  for  ye  are 
washed  in  my  blood,  and  clothed  with  my 
righteousness.  Renewed  by  my  Spirit,  ye 
have  glorified  me  on  earth,  and  have  been 
faithful  inito  death.  Come,  then,  ye  ser- 
vants of  holiness,  enter  into  the  joy  of  your 
Lord.  Come,  ye  children  of  light,  ye  bless- 
ed of  my  Father,  receive  the  kingdom  that 
shall  never  be  removed  ;  wear  the  crown 
which  fadcth  not  away,  and  enjoy  pleasures 
for  evermore  !" 

Then  it  will  be  one  of  the  smallest  privi- 
leges of  the  righteous,  that  they  shall  hin- 
guish  no  more  ;  thiit  sickness  will  never 
again  show   her   pale  countenance  in  their 


22 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


dwelliiigs.  *  Death  itself,  will  be  "  swallow- 
ed up  in  victory."  That  fatal  javelin  which 
has  drank  the  blood  of  monarchs,  and  finds 
its  way  to  the  hearts  of  all  the  Fons  of  Adam, 
shall  be  utterly  broken.  That  enormous 
scythe,  which  has  struck  empires  from  their 
root,  and  swept  ages  and  generations  into 
oblivion,  shall  lie  by  in  perpetual  useless- 
ncss.  Sin  also  which  filled  thy  quiver, 
thou  insatiate  archer! — sin,  which  strung 
thy  arm  with  resistless  vigour,  which  point- 
ed all  thy  shafts  with  inevitable  destruc- 
tion— sin,  vrill  then  be  done  away.  What- 
ever is  frail  or  depraved,  will  •  be  thrown 
off  with  our  grave-clothes.  All  to  come 
is  perfect  holiness,  and  consummate  happi- 
ness ;  the  term  of  whose  continuance  is 
eternity. 

O  Eternity  !  eternity!  how  are  ournobles, 
our  boldest,  our  strongest  thoughts  lost  and 
overwhelmed  in  thee  !  Who  can  set  land- 
marks to  limit  thy  dimensions,  or  find  plum- 
mets to  fathom  thy  depths  !  Arithmeticians 
have  figures  to  compute  all  the  progressions 
of  time ;  Astronomers  have  instruments 
to  calculate  the  distances  of  the  planets ;  but 
what  numbers  can  state,  what  lines  can 
gauge,  the  lengths  and  depths  of  eternity? 
"  It  is  higher  than  heaven  ;  what  canst 
thou  do?  deeper  than  hell  ;  what  canst 
thoulinow?  The  measure  thereof  is  long- 
er than  the  earth,  broader  than  the  sea." 
(Job  xi.  8,  9.) 

Mysterious,  mighty  existence  !  A  sum 
not  be  lessened  by  the  largest  deductions  ; 
an  extent  not  to  be  contracted  by  aU  possi- 
ble diminutions  !  None  can  truly  say,  after 
the  most  prodigious  waste  of  ages,  "  So 
much  of  eternity  is  gone."  For  when  mil- 
Uo'ns  of  centuries  are  elapsed,  it  is  but  just 
commencing;  and  when  millions  more  have 
run  their  ample  round,  it  wiU  be  no  nearer 
ending.  Yea,  when  ages,  numerous  as  the 
bloom  of  spring  increased  by  the  her- 
bage of  summer,  both  augmented  by  the 
leaves  of  autumn,  and  all  multij)lied  by  fhe 
drops  of  rain,  which  drown  the  A^-inter — 
when  these,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten 
thousand  more — more  than  can  be  repre- 
sented by  any  similitude,  or  imagined  by 
any  conception  ; — when  aU  these  are  revolv- 
ed and  finished,  eternity,  vast,  boundless, 
amazing  eternity,  will  only  be  beginning. 

Wliat  a  pleasing,  yet  awi'ul  thought  is 
this  !  full  of  delight,  and  full  of  dread.  O 
may  it  alarm  our  fears,  quicken  oiu-  hopes, 
and  animate  all  our  endeavours  !  Since  we 
are  soon  to  launch  into  this  endless  and  in- 
conceivable state,  let  us   give  all   diligence 

•  Isaiah,  speakin;;  of  the  new  Jerusalem,  mentions 
this  as  one  ofits  impunities,  Tlie  inhabitants  there- 
of shall  no  more  say,  I  am  sick.  Another  clause  in 
its  royal  charter  runs  thus,  God.  shall  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  their  eyes;  and  there  shall  be  no  more 
death,  neither  sorrow  nor  crying;  neither  shall  there 
bo  aity  more  pain.     Isa.  xxxiii.  24.    Rev.  xxi.  1. 


to  secure  our  entrance  into  bliss Now  let 

us  give  all  diligence,  because  there  is  no 
alteration  in  the  scenes  of  futurity.  The 
wheel  never  turns ;  all  is  steadfast  and  im- 
moveable beyond  the  giavc.  Whether  we 
are  then  seated  on  the  throne,  or  stretched 
on  the  rack,  a  seal  will  be  set  to  our  con- 
dition, by  the  hand  of  everlasting  mercy, 
or  inflexible  justice. — The  saints  always 
rejoice  amid  the  smiles  of  heaven :  their 
harps  are  perpetually  tuned  ;  their  triumphs? 
admit  of  no  interruption. — The  ruin  of 
the  wicked  is  irremediable.  The  fatal  sen- 
tence, once  passed,  is  never  to  be  repealed. 
No  hope  of  exchanging  their  dolefid  ha- 
bitations. But  all  things  bear  the  same 
dismal  a?pect  for  ever  and  ever. 

The  wicked — My  mind  recoils  at  the 
apprehension  of  their  misery.*  It  has 
studiously   waved    the  fearfid  subject,  and 

seems  unwilling  to  pursue  it   even   now 

But,  'tis  better  to  reflect  upon  it  for  a  few 
minutes,  than  to  endure  to  eternal  8f  es. 
Perhaps,  the  consideration  of  their  aggra- 
vated misery  may  be  profitably  terrible ; 
may  teach  me  more  highly  to  prize  the  Sa- 
viour, who,  "  delivers  from  going  down  to 
the  bottomless  pit ;"  may  drive  me,  like 
the  avenger's  sword,  to  this  only  city  of 
refuge  for  obno>aoiis  sinners. 

The  wicked  seem  to  lie  here,  like  male- 
factors in  a  deep  and  strong  dungeon,  re- 
served against  the  day  of  trial. — "  Their 
departure  was  without  peace."  Clouds  of 
horror  sat  lo\ATing  upon  their  closing  eye- 
lids, most  sadly  foreboding  "  the  blackness 
of  darkness  for  ever."  When  the  last  sick- 
ness seized  their  frame,  and  the  inevitable 
change  advanced  ;  M-hen  they  saw  the  fatal 
arrows  fitting  to  their  strings  ;  saw  the  dead- 
ly archer  aiming  at  their  heart ;  and  felt 
the  envenomed  shaft  fastened  in  their  vi- 
tals.— Good  God!  \\hat  fearfidness  came 
upon  them  !  what  hon'ible  dread  over- 
whelmed them.  How  did  they  stand  shud- 
dering and  aghast  upon  the  tremendous 
precipice  ?  excessively  afraid  to  plunge  into 
the  abyss  of  eternity,  yet  utterly  unable  to 
maintain  their  standing  on  the  verge  of  life. 

O !  what  pale  reviews,  what  startling 
prospects  conspire  to  augment  their  sor- 
rows !  They  look  backward,  and  behold, 
a  most  melancholy  scene  !  Sins  imrenented 
of,  mercy  slighted,  and  the  day  oi  grace 
ending. — They  look  forward,  and  nothing 
presents  itself  but  the  righteous  Judge,  the 
dreadful  tribunal,  and  a  most  solemn  reck- 
oning  They  roll    around  their  affrighted 

eyes  on  attending  friends. — If  accomplices 
in  debaueheiy,  it  sharpens  their  anguish, 
to  consider  this  further  aggravation  of  their 
guilt,  that  they  have  not  sinned  alone,  but 


•  Animus  meminisse  horret  luctuque  refufiit. — 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE  TOMBS. 


23 


.«lra\'^Ti  others  into  the  snare.  If  religious 
acquaintances,  it  strikes  a  fresh  gash  into 
their  hearts  to  think  of  never  seeing  them 
any  more,  but  only  at  an  unapproach- 
able distance  separated  by  the  unpassable 
gulf. 

At  last,  perhaps,  they  begin  to  pray.  Find- 
ing no  other  possible  way  of  relief,  they  are 
(Constrained  to  fii'ply  unto  the  Almighty; 
with  trembling  lips  and  a  faltering  tongue, 
tliey  cry  unto  that  sovereign  Being,  "  who 
kills  and  makes  alive." — 13ut  why  have 
they  deferred,  so  long  deferred,  their  ad- 
dresses to  God  ?  Why  have  they  despised 
all  his  counsels,  and  stood  incorrigible  un- 
der his  incessant  reproofs  ?  How  often 
have  they  been  forewarned  of  these  terrors, 
and  most  importunately  entreated  to  seek 
the  Lord,  Avhile  he  might  be  found  ? — I 
wish  they  may  obtain  mercy  at  the  eleventh, 
at  the  last  hour.  I  wish  that  they  may  be 
snatched  from  the  jaws,  the  opened,  the 
gaping,  the  almost  closing  jaws  of  damna- 
tion. But,  alas  !  v.-ho  can  tell,  whether  af- 
fronted Majesty  will  lend  an  ear  to  their 
complaint  ?  whether  the  holy  One  will 
Mork  a  miracle  of  grace  in  behalf  of  such 
transgressors  ?  He  may,  for  aught  any  mor- 
tal knows,  "  laugh  at  their  calamity,  and 
mock  when  their  fear  cometh." 

Thus  they  lie,  groaning  out  the  poor 
remains  of  life  ;  their  limbs  bathed  in 
sweat ;  their  hearts  struggling  with  con- 
vulsive throes  ;  pains  insupportable  throb- 
bing through  every  pulse ;  and  innumer- 
able darts  of  agony  transfixing  their  con- 
science. 


In  that  dread  moment  how  the  frantic  soul 
Raves  round  the  walls  of  her  clay  tenement : 
Runs  to  each  avenue  ;  and  shriclcs  for  help  ; 
Rut  slirieks  in  vain  !  how  wishfully  she  looks 
On  all  she's  leaving,  now  no  longer  hers  ! 
A  little  lonf;8r,  yet  a  little  longer, 
O  !  might  she  stay,  to  wash  away  her  crimes. 
And  fit  her  for  her  passage !  Mournful  sight ! 
Her  very  eyes  weep  blood  ;  and  every  groan 
."^he  heaves,  is  hig  with  horror;  but  the  foe, 
Like  a  staunch  murd'rer  steady  to  his  purpose, 
Purbues  her  close  through  every  lane  of  l.fe, 
Nor  misses  once  the  track,  but  presses  on  ; 
Till  forc'd  at  last  to  the  tremeuaous  verge. 
At  once  she  sinks.* 


If  this  be  the  end  of  the  ungodly,  "  My 
soul,  come  not  thou  into  their  secret !  Unto 
their  assembly,  mine  honour,  be  thou  not 
iniited  !" — How  awfuUy  accomi)lished  is 
that  prediction  of  inspired  wisdom  !  "  Sin, 
though  seemingly  sweet  in  the  commission, 
yet  at  last  it  biteth  like  a  serpent,  and  sting- 
eth  like  an  adder." 

Happy  dissolution ;  were  this  the  pe- 
riod of  their  woes,  But,  alas  I  all  these 
tribulations  are  only  the  "  beginning  of 
sorrows  ;"  a  small  drop  only  from  that  cup 
of   trembling,  which  is   mingled    for  their 


•  Ste  a  va;;i.-'l)lc  I'ocm,  el. titled  Tiii'  Grave. 


future   portion No    sooner  has    the   last 

pang  dislodged  their  reluctant  souls  but 
they  are  hurried  into  the  presence  of  an  in- 
jured angry  God ;  not  under  the  conduct- 
ing care  of  beneiicent  angels,  but  exposed 
to  the  nisults  of  accursed  spirits,  who  lately 
tempted  them,  now  upbraid  them,-  and  will 
for  ever  torment  them. — Who  can  imagine 
their  confusion  and  distress,  Avhen  they  stand, 
guilty  and  inexcusable,  before  their  incensed 
Creator  ?  They  are- received  with  frowTis  : 
"  The  God  that  made  them,  has  no  mercy 
on  them."  (Isa.  xxvii.  11.)  The  Prince 
of  peace  rejects  them  with  abhorrence.  He 
consigns  them  over  to  chains  of  darkness, 
and  receptacles  of  despaii-,  against  the  se- 
verer doom,  and  more  yniblic  infamy,  of  the 
great  day.  Then  all  tlie  vials  of  wrath 
will  be  emptied  upon  these  wretched  crea*- 
turcs.  The  law  they  have  violated,  and  the 
gospel  they  have  slighted  ;  the  power  they 
have  defied,  and  the  goodness  they  have 
abused ;  will  all  get  themselves  honevr  in 
their  exemplary  destruction.  Then  God, 
the  God  to  whom  vengeance  belongeth, 
will  draw  the  arrow  to  the  very  head,  and 
set  them  as  the  luark  of  his  inexorable  dis- 
pleasure. 

Resurrection  will  be  no  privilege  to  them  ; 
but  immortality  itself  their  everlasting  curse. 
— Would  they  not  bless  the  grave,  "  that 
land  where  all  things  are  forgotten  ;"  and 
wish  to  lie  eternally  hid  in  its  deepest 
gloom  ?  But  the  dust  refuses  to  conceal 
their  persons,  or  to  draw  a  veil  over  their 
practices.  They  must  also  av.ake  ;  must 
arise  ;  must  appear  at  the  bar  :  and  meet 
the  Judge  :  a  judge  before  whom  "  the  pil- 
lars of  heaven  tremble,  and  the  earth  melts 
away ;"  a  Judge  once  long-suffering  and 
very  compassionate,  but  now  unalterably 
determined  to  teach  stubborn  offenders, — r 
what  it  is  to  provoke  the  Omnipotent  Godr 
head  ;  what  it  is  to  trample  upon  the  blood 
of  his  Son,  and  offer  despite  to  all  the  gra- 
cious overtiu-es  of  his  Spirit. 

O  !  the  perplexity  !  the  distraction  !  that 
must  seize  the  impenitent  rebels,  when  they 
are  summoned  to  the  great  trilnmal !  What 
will  they  do  in  this  day  of  severe  visitation  ! 
this  day  of  final  decision. — Where?  how  ? 
whence  can  they  find  help  ? — To  which  of 
the  saints  vdll  they  turn  ?  whither  betake 
themselves  for  shelter  or  for  succour  ? 
Alas  !  it  is  all  in  vain  ;  it  is  all  too  late. 
— Friends  and  acquaintances  know  them 
no  more  ;  men  and  angels  abandon  them 
to  their  approaching  doom ;  even  the  Me- 
diator, the  Mediator  himself  deserts  then? 
in  this  dreadfid  hour.— ;■  To  fiy,  it  will  be 
impracticable  :  to  justify  themselves,  still 
more  impossible ;  and  now  to  make  any 
su]ij)lications,  utterly  unavailable. 

Behold  !  the  books  are  opened  !  the  se- 
crets of  all  hearts  are  disclosed  !   the  hid- 


24 


MEDITATIONS  AMONG  THE   TOMBS. 


den  tilings  of  darkness  are  brought  to  light ! 
How  empty,  how  ineffectual  now,  are  all 
those  retined  artifices,  vAith  which  hj'po- 
crites  imposed  upon  their  fellow  creatures, 
and  preserved  a  character  in  the  sight  of 
men  ! — the  jealous  God,  who  has  been 
about  tlw?ir  path,  and  about  their  bed,  and 
espied  out  all  their  ways,  "sets  before  them 
the  things  that  they  have  done."  They 
cannot  answer  him  one  in  a  thousand,  nor 
stand  in  the  awful  judgment.  The  heavens 
reveal  their  iniquities,  and  the  earth  rises 
up  against  them.  (Job  xx.  27.)  They  are 
speechless  with  guilt,  and  stigmatized  with 
infamy  before  all  the  armies  of  the  sky, 
and  all  the  nations  of  the  redeemed. — What 
a  favour  would  they  esteem  it,  to  hide 
their  ashamed  heads  in  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean,  or  even  to  be  buried  beneath  the 
ruins  of  the  tottering  world  ! 

If  the  contempt  poured  upon  them  be 
thus  insupportable,  how  will  their  hearts 
endure,  when  the  sword  of  infinite  indigna- 
tion is  unsheathed,  and  fiercely  waved 
around  their  defenceless  heads,  or  pointed 
directly  at  their  naked  breasts  !  How  must 
the  wretches  scream  with  wild  amazement, 
and  rend  the  very  heavens  with  their  cries, 
when  the  right  aiming  thunderbolts  go 
abrocTd !  go  abroad  with  a  dreadful  commis- 
sion, to  drive  them  from  the  kingdom  of 
glory  ;  and  plunge  them — not  into  the  sor- 
rows of  a  moment,  or  the  tortures  of  an 
hour,  but  into  all  the  restless  agonies  of  un- 
quenchable fire,  and  everlasting  despair.* 

Misery  of  miseries  !  too  shocking  for  re- 
flection to  dwell  upon.  But  if  so  dismal 
to  foresee,  and  that  at  a  distance,  together 
with  some  comfortable  expectation  of  es- 
caping it — O  !  how  bitter,  inconceivably 
bitter,  to  bear  without  any  intermission,  or 
any  mitigation,  through  hopeless  and  eter- 
nal ages ! 

Who  has  any  bowels  of  pity  ?  "WTio  has 
any  sentiments  of  compassion  ?  Who  has 
any  tender  concern  for  his  fellow  creatures  ? 
Who?  in  God's  name,  and  for  Christ's  sake, 
let  him  show  it  by  warning  every  man,  and 
beseeching  every  man,  to  seek  the  Lord 
while  he  may  be  found  ;  to  throw  down  the 
arms  of  rebellion,  before  the  act  of  indem- 
nity expires  ;  submissively  to  adore  the 
Lamb,  while  he  holds  out  the  golden  scep- 
tre.-— Here  let  us  act  the  friendly  part  to 
mankind  ;  here  let  the  whole  force  of  our 
benevolence  exert  itself :  in  exhorting  rela- 
tions, acquaintance,  neighbours,  whomso- 
ever we  may  probably  infiuence,  to  take  the 
wings  of  faith  imleigned,  or  repentance  un- 


delayed,  and  flee  away  from  this  VTatb  to 
come. 

Upon  the  whole,  what  stupendous  disco- 
veries are  these  !  Lay  them  up  in  a  faithful 
remembrance,  O  my  soul.  Recollect  them 
with  the  most  serious  attention,  when  thou 
best  down,  and  when  thou  risest  up.  When 
thou  walkest  ;  receive  them  for  thy  com- 
panions ;  when  thou  talkest,  listen  to  them 
as  thy  prompters  ;  and  whatever  thou  dost, 

consult  them  as  thy  directors Influenced 

by  these  considerations,  thy  views  will 
greaten,  thy  affections  be  exalted,  and  thou 
thyself  raised  above  the  tantalizing  power 
of  perishing  things.  Duly  mindful  of  these, 
it  will  be  the  sum  of  thy  desires,  and  the 
scope  of  thy  endeavours,  to  gain  the  appro- 
bation of  that  sovereign  Being,  who  will 
then  fill  the  throne,  and  pronounce  the  de- 
cisive sentence.  Thou  wilt  see  nothing 
worth  a  wish,  in  comparison  of  having  his 
will  for  thy  rule ;  his  glory  for  thy  aim  ; 
and  his  Holy  Spiiit  for  thy  ever  actuating 
principal. 

Wonder,  O  man  ;  be  lost  in  admiration, 
at  those  prodigious  events,  which  are  com- 
ing upon  the  universe  ;  events,  the  great- 
ness of  which  nothing  finite  can  measure  ; 
such  as  will  cause  whatever  is  considerable 
or  momentous  in  the  annals  of  all  genera- 
tions, to  sink  into  littleness  or  nothing. 
Events  (Jesus  prepare  us  for  their  ap- 
proach !  defend  us,  when  they  take  place  !) 
big  with  the  everlasting  fates  of  all  the  liv- 
ing and  all  the  dead* I  must  see  the  graves 

cleaving,  the  sea  teeming,  and  swarms  un- 
suspected, crowds  unnumbered,  yea,  multi- 
tudes of  thronging  nationa,  rising  from  both. 
— I  must  see  the  world  in  flames,  must 
stand  at  the  dissolution  of  all  terrestrial 
things  :  and  be  an  attendant  on  the  burial  of 
natiu'e.  I  must  see  the  vast  expanse  of  the 
sky  wrapt  up  like  a  scroll ;  and  the  incar- 
nate God  issuing  forth  from  light  inacces- 
sible, with  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
angels,  to  judge  both  men  and  devils — I 
must  see  the  curtain  of  time  drop  ;  see  all 
eternity  disclosed  to  view,  and  enter  upon  a 
state  of  being,  that  will  never,  never  have 
an  end  ! 

And  ought  I  not  (let  the  vainest  imagin- 
ation determine  ;  ought  I  not)  to  try  the 
sincerity  of  my  faith,  and  take  heed  to  my 
ways  ?  Is  there  an  inquiiy,  is  there  a  care, 
of  greater,  of  equal,  of  comparable  impor- 
tance ? — Is  not  this  an  infinitely  pressing 
call,  to  see  that  my  loins  are  girded  about, 
my  lamp  trimmed,  and  myself  dressed  for 
the  Bridegroom's  appearance  :  that,  wash- 
ed in  the  fountain  opened  in  my  Saviour's 


Regions  of  sorrow,  doleful  shades,  where  peace 
Ana  rest  can  never  dwell ;  hope  never  comes, 
That  comes  to  all ;  but  torture  without  end 
Still  urges,  and  a  fiery  deluge  fed 
With  MCT  burning  sulphur  unconsumed. — Miltnn. 


Great  day  of  dread  decision,  and  despnir' 
At  thought  of  thee,  each  sublunary  wish 
Let  J  go  Its  eager  grasp  and  quits  the  hold. 

Nijfht  Tlwrtghtn. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


25 


sitlc,  and  clad  with  the  marriage-garment, 
\vove  by  his  obedience,   I  nuiy  be  found,  in 

))iMre,   unblameable,   and  unreiiroveable 

Otherwise,  how  shall  I  stand  witli  boldness, 
when  the  stars  of  heaven  fall  from  their 
orbs  ?  how  shall  I  come  forth  erect  and 
courageons,  when  the  earth  itself  reels  to 
and  fro  like  a  drunkard  ?  ( Isa.  xxiv.  '20. ) 
how  shall  I  look  up  with  joy  and  see  my 
salvation  drawing  nigh,  when  the  hearts  of 
millions  and  millions  fail  for  fear. 

Now,  jNIadam,  lest  my  meditations  set  in 
a  cloud,  and  leave  any  unjjleasing  gloom  upon 
your  mind  ;  let  me  once  more  turn  to  the 
brightening  prospects  of  the  righteous.  A 
\'iew  of  them  and  their  delightful  expecta- 
tions, may  serve  to  exhilarate  the  thoughts 
which  have  been  musing  upon  melancholy 
subjects,  and  hovering  about  the  edges  of 
infernal  darkness  !  just  as  a  spacious  tield, 
arrayed  in  cheerful  green,  relie\es  and  re- 
inNHgorates  the  eye  which  has  fatigued  it- 
self by  poring  upon  some  minute,  or  gazing 
upon  some  glaring  object. 

The  righteous  seem  to  lie  by  in  the  bo- 


som of  the  earth,  as  a  wary  pilot  in  some 
well  sheltered  creek,  till  all  the  storms, 
which  infest  this  lower  world,  are  blown 
over.  Here  they  enjoy  safe  anchorage,  are 
in  no  danger  of  foundering,  amidst  the  waves 
of  prevailing  iniquity,  or  of  being  ship- 
wrecked on  the  rocks  of  any  powerful  temp- 
tation. But  ere  long  we  shall  behold  thcin 
hoisting  their  dag  of  hope  ;  riding  before  a 
sweet  gale  of  atoning  merit,  and  redeeming 
love  ;  till  they  make  ^\^th  all  the  sails  of 
an  assured  faith,  the  blessed  port  of  eternal 
life. 

Then  may  the  honoured  friend  to  whom 
I  am  writing,  rich  in  good  works,  rich  in 
heavenly  tempers,  but  inexpressibly  richei 

ill  her  Saviour's  righteousness Oh  !   may 

she  enter  the  harbour,  like  a  gallant  stately 
vessel,  returned  successful  and  victorious 
from  some  grand  expedition,  with  acclama- 
tions, honour  and  joy  !  while  my  little  bark, 
attendant  on  the  solemnity,  and  a  partaker 
of  the  triumpli,  glides  humbly  after  ;  and 
both  rest  together  in  the  haven, — the  wish- 
ed-for  blissful  haven,  of  perfect  security, 
and  everlasting  repose. 


REFLECTIONS 

ON  A 

FLOWER-GARDEN, 

IN   A 
LETTER  TO  A  LADY. 


Madam, 

SoMK  time  ago,  my  meditations  took  a  turn 
among  the  Tombs  ;  they  \'isited  the  awiul 
and  melaiuiioly  mansions  of  the  dead  ;*  and 
you  was  pleased  to  favom"  them  with  your 

attention May  I  now  beg  the  honour  of 

your  company,  in  a  more  inviting  and  de- 
lightful excursion,  in  a  beautiful  Flower- 
Garden,  where  I  lately  walked,  and  at  once 
regaled  the  sense,  and  indulged  the  fancy  ? 


*  "  Discourses  on  the  vanity  of  the  creature  which 
represent  the  barrenness  of  every  thing  in  this  world, 
and  its  incapacity  of  producinir  any  solid  or  substan- 
tial happiness,  are  useful. — Those  speculations  also 
which  show  the  bright  side  of  things,  and  lay  forth 
th"se  innocent  entertainments,  which  are  to  be  met 
with  among  the  several  objects  that  encompass  us, 
are  no  less  beneficial,"  Spect.  vol.  v.  No.  393.  Upon 
the  plan  of  these  observation*,  the  preceding  and  fol- ' 
lowing  reflections  are  formed. 


It  was  early  in  a  summer-moming,  when 
the  air  was  cool,  the  earth  moist,  the  whole 
face  of  the  creation  fresh  and  gay.  The 
noisy  world  was  scarce  a\^'ake.  Business 
had  not  quite  shook  off  his  soimd  sleep  ;  and 
riot  had  but  just  reclined  his  giddy  head. 
All  was  serene,  all  was  still,  ever}'  thing 
tended  to  inspire  tranquillity  of  mind,  and 
invite  to  serious  thought. 

Only  the  wakefid  lark  had  left  her  nest, 
and  was  mounting  on  high,  to  salute  the 
opening  day.  Elevated  in  the  air,  she 
seemed  to  call  the  laborious  husbandman  to 
his  toil,  and  all  her  fellow  songsters  to 
their  notes — Earliest  of  birds,  said  I,  com- 
panion of  the  dawn,  may  I  always  rise  at 
thy  voice  !     rise  to   offer  the  matin-song. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


and  adore  that  beneficent  Being,  "whomak- 
cih  the  outgoings  of  the  morning  and  even- 
ing to  rejoice." 

How  charming  to  rove  abroad  at  this 
sweet  hour  of  prime  !  to  enjoy  the  calm  of 
nature,  to  tread  the  dewy  hiwns,  and  taste 
the  imrifled  freshness  of  the  air  ! 

Sweet  is  the  breath  of  morn,  her  rising  sweet, 
With  charm  of  earliest  birds.* 

"What  a  pleasure  do  the  sons  of  sloth 
loose  !  Little,  ah  !  little  is  the  sluggard  sen- 
sible how  delicious  an  entertainment  he 
foregoes,  for  the  poorest  of  all  animal  grati- 
fications.f 

The  greyness  of  the  dawn  decays  gra- 
dually. Abundance  of  ruddy  streaks  tinges 
the  fleeces  of  the  firmament ;  till  at  length 
the  dappled  aspect  of  the  east  is  lost  in  one 
ardent  and  boundless  blush Is  it  the  sur- 
mise of  imagination,  or  do  the  skies  really 
redden  M-ith  shame  to  see  so  many  supinely 
stretched  on  their  drowsy  pillows  ?  Shall 
man  be  lost  in  luxurious  ease  ?  Shall  man 
waste  these  precious  hours  in  idle  slumbers  ! 
while  the  \'igorous  sun  is  up,  and  going  on 
his  Maker's  errand  ?  while  all  the  feathered 
choir  are  hymning  their  Creator,  and  paying 
their  liomage  in  harmony  ? — No.  Let 
him  heighten  the  melody  of  the  tunefid 
tribes,  by  adding  the  rational  strains  of  de- 
votion. Let  him  improve  the  fragrant  ob- 
lations of  nature,  by  mingling  with  the  ris- 
ing odours  the  more  refined  breath  of  praise 
It  is  natural  for  man  to  look  upward,):  to 
throw  his  first  glance  upon  the  objects  that 
are  above  him. 

Strait  toward  heav'n  my  wondering  eyes  I  turned. 
And  gaz'd  awhile  the  ample  Skv.§ 

Prodigious  theatre  !  where  lightnings 
dart  their  fire,  and  thunders  utter  their  voice ; 
where  tempests  spend  their  rage,  and  worlds 
unnumbered  roll  at  large  ! — O  !  the  great- 
ness of  that  mighty  hand,  which  meteth 
out  this  amazing  circumference  with  a  span  ! 
Oh  !  the  immensity  of  that  wonderful  Be- 
ing, before  whom  this  unmeasurable  extent 
is  no  more  than  a  point !  And,  oh  !  (thou 
pleasing  thought !)  the  unsearchable  riches 
of  that  mercy  which  is  greater  than  the  hea- 
vens !  (  Psal.  cnii.  4. )  is  more  erdarged  and 
extensive,  in  its  gracious  exercise  than  these 


»  Milt.  Par.  Lost.  Book  iv.  line  641. 
■f  See !  how  revelation  and  reason,  the  scriptures, 
and  the  classics,  unanimously  exhort  to  this  most  be- 
neficial practice.  Theyboth'invite  us  to  early  rising, 
by  the  most  engaging  motives,  and  the  most  alluring 
representations. 

Come  my  beloved,  let  us  go  forth  into  the  fields  ; 
let  us  lodge  in  the  villaires.  Let  us  get  up  early  to  the 
vineyards:  let  us  see  if  the  vine  flourish,  whether  the 
tender  grape  appear,  and  the  pomegranates  bud  forth, 
Son-;  vii.  11,  1:?. 

Luciferi  primocum  sidcre,  frigida  ru'a 
f;flrp^mus,  dum  mnnenovum  dum  gramina  canent, 
Et  ros  in  tenera  pecoii  gratissimus  herba  est. 

*  O3  nomini  sublime  dedit,  crrlumque  tiieri 

.I'issit,  et  erectos  ad  sidera  tollere  niltus. — OvitI, 
•4  T><  lit.  Par.  Lost,  book  viii.  line  2.>7. 


illimitable  tracts  of  air,  and  sea,  and  firma- 
ment !  which  pardons  crimes  of  the  most 
enormous  size,  and  the  most  horrid  acrgra- 
vations :  pardons  them  in  consideration  of 
the  Redeemer's  atonement,  with  perfect 
freeness  and  the  utmost  readiness  !  more 
readily,  if  it  were  possible,  than  this  all-sur- 
rounding expanse  admits,  within  its  cir- 
cuit, a  ridge  of  mountains,  or  even  a  grain 
of  sand. 

Come  liither,  then,  ye  awakened  trem,, 
bling  sinners.  Come*  weary  and  hca\y 
laden  with  a  sense  of  your  iniquities.  Con- 
demn yourselves.  Renounce  all  reliance 
on  any  thing  of  your  own.  Let  your  trust 
be  in  the  tender  mercy  of  God,  for  ever  and 
ever. 

hi  them  hath  he  set  a  tabernacle  for  the 
sun,  (Psal.  xix.  4.)  Behold  him  coming 
forth  from  the  chambers  of  the  east.  See  ! 
the  clouds,  like  floating  curtains,  are  throMTi 
back  at  his  approach.  With  what  refid- 
gent  majesty  does  he  walk  abroad  !  How 
transcendently  bright  is  his  countenance, 
shedding  day  and  inexhaustible  light  through, 
the  universe  !  Is  there  a  scene,  though  fin- 
ished by  the  most  elaborate  and  costly  re- 
finements of  art,  "  comparable  to  these  il- 
lustrious solemnities  of  opening  sunshine  ? 
Before  these  all  the  studied  pageantry  of  the 
theatre,  the  glittering  economy  of  an  assem- 
bly, or  even  the  heightened  ornaments  of  a 
royal  palace,  hide  their  diminished  heads,  and 
shrink,  into  nothing." — I  have  read  of  a  per- 
son so  stnick  \'\-ith  the  splendours  of  this  no- 
ble luminarj',  that  he  imagined  himself  made 
on  purpose  to  contemplate  its  glories.  O  ! 
that  Christians  would  adopt  this  persuasion, 
and  transfer  it  to  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  ! 
Thus  applied,  it  would  cease  to  be  a  chi- 
merical notion,  and  become  a  most  impor- 
tant truth.  For  sure  I  am,  it  is  the  su- 
preme happiness  of  theeternjd  state.  And 
therefore  may  well  be  the  ruling  concern 
of  this  present  life,  to  know  the  only  true 
God,  and  Jesus  Christ  M'hom  he  hath  sent. 


*  The  lines  which  follow  are  admirably  descriptive 
of  the  spirit  and  practice  hinted  above.  In  them  de- 
sire pants;  prayer  ivrestles;  and  faith,  as  it  were, 
grasps  the  prize: — I  take  leave  to  transplant  them 
mto  this  place ;  and  I  could  wish  them  a  better,  a  more 
conspicuous  situation  than  e\en  their  own  or  their 
native  soil.  Their  native  soil  is  no  other  than  the 
lamentations  of  a  sinner,  written  by  Mr.  Sternhold. 
Notwithstanding  the  unpromising  genius  of  the  per- 
formance, I  think  we  may  challenge  the  greatest 
masters  to  produce  any  thing  more  spirited  and  im- 
portunate ;  more  full  of  nature,  or  more  flushed  with 
life. 

Mercy,  good  Lord,  mercy  I  crave; 

This  is  the  total  sum  ; 
For  mercy.  Lord,  is  all  my  suit; 
Lohd,  let  thy  mercy  come. 
The  short  sentences; — not  a  single  copulative; — 
the  frequent  repetition  of  the  Divine  name; — the 
almost  incessant  reiteration  of  the  blessing,  so  pas- 
sionately desired,  and   inexpressilily  needed  : — Thi.; 
is  the  genuine  language  of  ardour :  these  are  boaiUics 
obvious  to  every  eye,  and  cannot  fail  either  to  please 
I  ilie  juvlicious  taste,  or  to  edity  the  gracious  heart. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A   FLOWER  GARDEN; 


— Nor  do  I  stand  alone  in  this  opinion. 
The  very  best  judge  of  whatever  is  valuable 
in  science,  or  perfective  of  our  nature ;  a 
judge  wlio  formed  his  taste  on  the  maxims 
of  paradise,  and  received  the  finishings  of 
his  education  in  the  third  heavens ;  this 
judge  determines  to  know  nothing  but  Je- 
sus Christ,  and  him  crucified.  He  possess- 
ed, in  his  own  person,  the  finest,  the  most 
admired  accomplishments  ;  yet  pronoimces 
them  no  better  than  dung,  in  comparison 
of  the  super-eminent  excellency  of  this 
saving  knowledge.  (Phil.  iii.  8.) 

Methinks  I  discern  a  thousand  admirable 
properties  in  the  sun.  It  is  certainly  the 
best  material  emblem  of  the  Creator. 
There  is  mere  of  God  in  its  lustre,  energy, 
and  usefulness,  than  in  any  other  visible  be- 
ing. To  woi'ship  it  as  a  deity  was  the  least 
inexcusable  of  all  the  heathen  idolatries. 
One  scarce  can  wonder,  that  fallen  reason 
should  mistake  so  fair  a  copy  for  the  ador- 
able original.  No  comparison  in  the  whole 
book  of  sacred  wisdom,  pleases  me  more 
than  that  which  resembles  the  blessed  Jesus, 
to  yonder  regent  of  the  day  ;*  wlio  now  ad- 
vances on  his  azure  road,  to  scatter  light 
and  dispense  gladness  through  the  nations. 

What  were  all  the  realms  of  the  world, 
but  a  dungeon  of  darkness,  without  the 
beams  of  the  sun  ?     All  their  fine  scenes, 

hid  from  oiu"  view,  lost  in  obscurity In 

vain  we  roll  around  our  eyes  in  the  mid- 
niglit  gloom.  In  vain  we  strive  to  behold 
the  features  of  amiable  nature.  Turn  whi- 
ther we  will,  no  form  or  comeliness  appears. 
All  seems  a  dreary  waste,  an  undistin- 
guished chaos,  till  the  returning  hours  have 
imbarred  the  gates  of  light,  and  let  forth 
the  morn.  Then  what  a  j)rospect  opens  ! 
the  heavens  are  paved  with  azure,  and  strew- 
ed with  roses.  A  variety  of  the  liveliest  ver- 
dures array  the  plain.  The  flowers  put  on 
a  glow  of  the  richest  coloiu's.  The  Mhole 
creation  stands  forth,  dressed  in  all  the 
charms  of  beauty.  The  ravished  eye  looks 
round,  and  wonders. 

And  what  had  been  the  condition  of  our 
intellectual  nature,  without  the  groat  Re- 
deemer, and  his  divine  revelation? — Alas  ! 
what  absurd  and  unworthy  apprehensions 
did  the  Pagan  sages  form  of  God  !  AVhat 
idle  dreams,  what  childish  conjectures,  were 
their  doctrines  of  a  future  state  ! — How 
did  the  bulk  even  of  that  favOLUed  nation, 
the  Jews,  weary  themselves  in  very  vanity, 
to  obtain  peace  and  reconciliation  witli  their 
oHViided  Jehovah  !  till  .Tesus*  arose  u])on 
our  benighted  minds,  and  brought  life  and 
iunnortality  to  light :  till  He  arose,  to  en- 
lighten the  wretched  (Jentiles,  and  to  be 
the  glory  of  his  people  Israel. 


'  Unto  yoil  that  fear  my  name,  shall  the  Sun  of 
Iii^,i\leoiisness  arise  with  litaiine  in  his  wint;s.  Mnl. 
p..  2. 


27 


Now,  we  no  longer  cry  out  with  a  rest- 
less impatience.  Where  is  God  my  Maker? 
for  we  are  allowed  to  contemplate  the 
brightness  of  liis  glory,  and  the  express 
image  of  his  person,  in  the  face  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Now,  we  no  longer  inquire,  with  an 
utisatisfied  solicitude,  "  which  is  the  way  to 
bliss  ?"  because  Jesus  has  marked  the  path, 
by  his  shining  example ;  and  left  us  an  un- 
erring clue  in  his  holy  word Now,  we  have 

no  more  reason  to  proceed  with  misgiving 
hearts  in  our  journey  to  eternity,  or  to  ask 
anxiously  as  we  go,  "  Who  will  roll  away 
the  stone,  and  open  the  everlasting  doors? 
Who  will  remove  the  flaming  sword,  and 
give  us  admission  into  the  debghts  of  para- 
dise ?"  Yvix  it  is  done,  all  done  by  the  Cap- 
tain of  our  salvation.  Sin  he  has  expiated, 
by  the  unblemished  sacrifice  of  himself. 
The  law  he  has  fidfilled,  by  his  perfect 
obedience.  The  siinier  he  transforms,  by 
his  sanctifying  spirit.^^-^In  a  word,  he  hath 
both  presented  us  with  a  clear  discovery  of 
good  things  to  come  ;  and  administered  to 
us  an  abundant  entrance  into  the  final  en- 
joyment of  them. 

Whenever,  therefore,  we  bless  God  for  the 
circling  seasons,  and  revolving  day,  let  us 
adore — thankfidly  adore — him,  for  the  more 
precious  appearatice  of  the  Sun  of  Righ- 
teousness, and  his  glorioirs  gospel.  With- 
out whicli,  we  shoidd  have  been  groping 
even  to  this  hour,  in  spiritual  darkness,  and 
the  shadow  of  death  ;  without  which  we 
must  have  wandered  in  a  maze  of  inextrica- 
ble uncertainties  ;  and  have  "  sttunbled  up- 
on the  dark  mountains"  of  error,  till  we  fell 
into  the  bottomless  pit  of  perdition. 

Witliout  that  grand  culii'cning  principle, 
what  were  this  earth,  but  a  lifeless  mass? 
a  rude  lump  of  inactive  matter?  The  trees 
could  never  break  forth  into  leaves,  nor  the 
plants  spring  up  into  flowers.  We  should  no 
more  behold  the  meadows  mantled  over  with 
green,  nor  the  vallies  standing  thick  with  corn. 
Or,  to  speak  in  the  beautitul  language  of  a 
pro])het,  (Hab.  iii.  17.)  "  No  longer  would 
the  fig-tree  blossom,  nor  fruit  be  in  the 
vine  :  The  laboui-  of  the  olive  would  fail, 
and  the  fields  could  yield  no  meat  :  The 
flocks  must  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and 
there  woidd  be  no  herd  in  the  stalls — The 
sun  darts  its  beams  among  all  the  vegeta- 
ble tribes,  and  paints  the  spring,  and  enriches 
the  autumn.  This  pierces  to  the  roots  of 
the  vineyard  and  the  orchard ;  and  sets 
afloat  these  fermenting  juices,  which,  at 
length,  bmst  into  floods  of  wine,  or  bend 
the  boughs  with  a  mellow  load. — Nor  are 
its  favours  confined  to  the  upper  regions, 
but  distributed  into  the  deepest  recesses  of 
creation.  It  penetrates  the  beds  of  metal, 
and  fnuls  its  way  to  the  place  of  sapphires. 
It  tinctures  tlie  seeds  of  gold  that  are  ripen- 
ing into  ore  ;  and  throws  a  brilliancy  into 


28 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


the  water  of  the  diamond,  that  is  hardening 
on  its  rocks.  In  short,  the  beneficial  agen- 
cy of  this  magnificent  luminary  is  inexpres- 
sible. It  beautifies  and  impregnates  univer- 
sal nature.  "  There  is  nothing  hid  from  the 
heat  thereof." 

Just  in  the  same  manner  were  the  ra- 
tional world  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins, 
without  the  reviving  energy  of  Jesus  Christ. 
He  is  "  the  resurrection  and  the  life  : "  the 
overflowing  fountain  of  the  one,  and  the 
all-powerful  cause  of  the  other.  The  se- 
cond Adam  is  a  quickening  spirit,  and  all 
his  saints  live  through  him.  He  shines  up- 
on their  affections,  and  they  shoot  forth  in- 
to heavenly  graces,  and  abound  in  the  fi-uits 
of  righteousness.  Faith  unfeigned,  and  love 
iindissembled,  those  noblest  productions  of 
the  renewed  nature,  are  the  eifect  of  his 
operation  on  the  mind.  Not  so  much  as 
one  divine  disposition  could  spread  itself, 
not  one  Christian  habit  unfold  and  flourish, 
without  the  kindly  influences  of  his  grace. 

As  tlicre  is  no  fruitfulness,  so  likewise 
110  cheerfulness,  without  the  sun.* — When 
that  auspicious  sovereign  of  the  day  diffuses 
the  mildness  of  his  morning-splendour,  he 
creates  an  universal  festival.  Millions  of 
glittering  insects  awake  into  existence  and 
bask  in  his  rays.  The  birds  start  from 
their  slumbers,  and  pour  their  delighted 
souls  in  harmony.  The  flocks,  with  blcet- 
ing  accents  hail  the  welcome  blessing.  The 
herds,  in  lowing  murmurs,  express  their 
hoarser  acclamations.  The  valleys  ring 
with  rural  music  ;  the  hills  echo  back  the 
artless  strains.  All  that  is  vocal,  joins  in 
the  general  choir  ;  all  that  has  breath,  exults 
in  the  cheering  influence  : — Whereas,  was 
that  radiant  orb  extinguished,  a  tremendous 
gloom  would  ensue,  and  hon'or  insupporta- 
ble. Nay,  let  it  only  be  eclipsed  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  all  nature  assumes  an  air  of 
sadness.  The  heavens  put  on  a  kind  of 
mourning.  The  most  sprightly  animals 
hang  down  their  dejected  heads.  The  song- 
sters of  the  grove  are  struck  dumb.  Howl- 
ing beasts  roam  abroad  for  prey  ;  ominous 
birds  come  forth  and  screech  ;  the  heart  of 
man  fails,  or  a  sudden  pang  seizes  the  fore- 
boding mind. — So,  when  Christ  hides  away 
his  face,  when  faith  loses  sight  of  that  con- 
solation of  Israel !  how  gloomy  are  the  pros- 
pects of  the  soul  !  Our  God  seems  to  be  a 
consuming  fire,  and  our  sins  cry  loudly  for 
vengeance.  The  thoughts  bleed  inwardly, 
the  Christian  walks  heavily  ;  all  without  is 
irksome,  all  within  is  disconsolate,  l^ift 
up  then,  most  gracious  Jesus,  thou  nobler 
day-spring  from  on  high  ;    O  lift  up  the 


light  of  thy  countenance  upon  thy  people  ! 
Reveal  the  fulness  of  thy  mediatorial  suffi- 
ciency ;  make  clear  our  title  to  this  great 
salvation  :  and  thereby  impart 

What  nothing  earthly  gives,  or  can  destroy. 
The  soul's  cahn  sun-shine,  and  the  heart-felt  joy. 
Pope's  Eth.  E'p. 

In  one  instance  more,  let  me  pursue  the  si- 
militude. The  sun,  I  obser\'e,  pours  his  lus- 
tre all  around,  to  every  distance,  and  in  every 
direction.  Profusely  liberal  of  his  gifts,  he  il- 
luminates and  cheers  all  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
and  the  whole  compass  of  the  skies.  The  east 
reddens  with  his  rising  radiance,  and  the  west- 
em  hills  are  gilded  with  his  streaming  splen- 
dours. The  chilly  regions  of  the  north  are 
cherished  by  his  genial  warmth,  while  the 

southern  tracts  glow  with  his  fire Thus 

are  the  influences  of  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness, diffusive  and  unconfined.  The  gener- 
ations of  old  felt  them,  and  generations  yet 
unborn  will  rejoice  in  them.  The  merits 
of  his  precious  death  extended  to  the  first, 
and  udll  be  propagated  to  the  last  ages  of 
mankind.  ]\Iay  they,  ere  long,  visit  the  re- 
motest climates,  and  darkest  comers  of  the 
earth  !  Command  thy  gospel,  blessed  Jesus, 
thy  everlasting  gospel,  to  take  the  wings  of 
the  morning,  and  travel  with  yonder  sun. 
Let  it  fly  ujion  strong  pinions  among  every 
])eople,  nation,  and  language  ;  that  where 
the  heat  scorches,  and  the  cold  freezes,  thou 
mayest  be  known,  confessed,  and  adored  ; 
that  strangers  to  thy  name,  and  enemies  to 
thy  doctrine,  may  be  enlightened  with  the 
knowledge,  and  won  to  the  love  of  thy 
truth  !  O  !  may  that  best  of  eras  come  ; 
that  M'ished-for  period  advance,  when  all  the 
ends  of  the  world  shall  remember  them- 
selves, and  be  turned  unto  the  Lord ;  and  all 
the  kindreds  of  the  nations  worship  before 
him!  (Psal.  xxii.  27.) 

From  the  heavens  we  retire  to  the  earth. 
— Here  the  drops  of  dew  like  so  many  li- 
quid crystals  sparkle  upon  the  eye.  *  How 
brilliant,  and  unsullied,  is  their  lustre  ! 
How  little  inferior  to  the  proud  stone,  which 
irradiates  a  monarch's  crown  ?  They  want 
nothing  but  solidity  and  permanency  to  equal 
them  with  the  finest  treasures  of  the  jewel- 
ler's  casket But  here,    indeed,   they  are 

greatly  deficient  ;  short-lived  ornaments, 
possessed  of  little  more  than  a  momentary 
radiance.  The  sun  that  lishts  them  up, 
will  soon  exhale  them.  Within  another 
hour,  we  may  "  look  for  their  place,  and 
they  shall  be  away."  O  !  may  every  good 
resolution  of  mine,  and  of  my  flocks  ;  may 
our  united  breathings  after  God,  not  be  like 
these  transient  decorations  of  the  morniiis'. 


*  "  The  sun,  which  is  as  the  great  soul  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  (iroduces  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  has  a 
^'articular  influence  in  clictring  the  mind  of  man, 
nnd  making  the  heart  glad."-  &f  er^.  f'ot.  v.  Su.  3Si'. 


•   Now  morn,  her  rosy  steps  in  eastern  climf 
Advancing,  sow'd  tlie  earth  with  orient  )i"arl. — 
Mil  Inn. 


REFLECTIONS  OxN  A   FLO  W'ER-O.A  RDEN. 


29 


but  like  the  substantial  glory  of  the  grow- 
ing day !  The  one  shines  more  and  more 
with  augmented  splendours  :  while  the 
other,  having  glittered  gaily  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, disappear,  and  are  lost. 

How  sensibly  has  this  dew  refreshed  the 
vegetable  kingdoms  !  The  fervent  heat  of 
yesterday's  sun  had  almost  parched  the  face, 
and  exhausted  the  sweets  of  nature.  But 
what  a  sovereign  restorative  are  these  cool- 
ing distillations  of  the  night  !  How  they 
gladden  and  invigorate  the  languishing  herbs ! 
Sprinkled  with  these  reviving  drops,  their 
verdure  deepens  ;  their  bloom  is  new-flush- 
ed :  their  fragrance,  faint  or  intermitted,  be- 
comes potent  and  copious. — Thus  does  the 
ever  blessed  Spirit  revive  the  drooping  trou- 
bled conscience  of  a  sinner.  When  that  al- 
mighty Comforter  sheds  his  sweet  influence 
on  the  soul,  disi)lays  the  all-sufficient  sacri- 
fice of  a  divine  Redeemer,  and  "  witnesses 
with  our  si)irit,"  that  we  are  interested  in 
the  Saviour,  and,  by  this  means  are  children 
of  God  ;  then  what  a  pleasing  change  en- 
S'ues  !  Former  anxieties  are  remembered  no 
more.  Every  uneasy  apprehension  vanishes. 
Soothing  hopes  and  delightful  expectations 
succeed.  The  countenance  drops  its  deject- 
ed mien  ;  the  eyes  brighten  with  a  lively 
cheerfulness,  while  the  lips  express  the 
heartfelt  satisfaction  in  the  language  of 
thanksgiving  and  the  voice  of  melody. — In 
this  sense,  merciful  God,  be  as  the  dew  un- 
to Israel  !  "  Pour  upon  them  the  continual 
dew  of  thy  blessing."  And,  O  !  let  not 
my  fleece  be  dry,  while  heavenly  benedic- 
tion descends  upon  all  around. 

Who  can  number  these  pearly  drops  ? 
They  hang  on  every  hedge  ;  they  twinkle 
from  every  spniv,  and  adorn  the  whole  her- 
bage of  the  field.  Kot  a  blade  of  grass,  not 
a  single  leaf,  but  wears  the  watery  pendants. 
So  vast  is  the  profusion,  that  it  baffles  the 
arithmetician's  art Here  let  the  benevo- 
lent mind  contemplate  and  admire  that  em- 
phatical  scripture,  Avliich  from  this  elegant 
similitude  describes  the  increase  of  the 
]\Iessiah's  kingdom.  The  royal  j)rophet, 
speaking  of  Christ,  and  foretelling  the  suc- 
cess of  his  religion,  has  this  remarkable  ex- 
pression,*  "  The  dew  of  thy  birth  is  of  the 


•  Psalm  ex.  3.  The  most  exact  translation  of  this 
difficult  passage,  is  I  apprehend  as  follows ^  Prae 
rore  mere  aurorae,  tibi  (st  res  juventutis  vel  prolis 
tua?.  i.H.  The  dew  oftliy  birth  is  larf;er,  more  copious, 
than  thedew  which  pr'nrteds  from  the  womb  of  the 
morning. — I  cannot  ac(iuiesce  in  the  new  version,  be- 
cause that  disjoins  tlie  womb  of  tlie  morning  from 
the  dew  of  thy  birth  :  whereas  they  seem  to  nave  a 
clear  alHnity,  and  a  close  connexion.  The  womb  of 
tne  morning  is,  with  the  utmost  pertinency  applied 
to  the  conception  and  production  of  dews;  agreeably 
to  a  delicate  line,  in  that  great  master  of  just  de- 
scription and  lively  painting,  Mr.  Thomson. 

The  meek  ey'd  morn  ajipears,  mother  of  dews. 

SiiiiiJiin: 

We  meet  with  a  fine  expression  in  the  hook  of  Job, 
whuli  may  ser\e  to  confimithis  rvnuark,  and  may  il- 


womb  of  the  morning  ;"  that  is,  As  tlr.? 
morning  is  the  mother  of  dews  ;  jirodiices 
them,  as  it  were,  from  a  prolific  womb  ;  and 
scatters  them  with  the  most  lavish  abun- 
dance, over  all  the  surface  of  the  earth,  so 
shall  thy  seed  be.  O  thou  everlasting  Fa- 
ther !  by  the  preaching  of  thy  word,  shall 
such  an  iiituimcrable  race  of  regenerate  chil- 
dren be  born  imto  thee,  and  prove  an  orna- 
ment and  a  blessing  to  all  ages.  IMillions, 
millions  of  willing  converts  from  every  na- 
tion luider  heaven,  shall  crowd  into  thy  fa- 


lustrate  the  propriety  of  the  phrase  used  in  this  con- 
nexion ;  "  Hath  the  rain  a  tather,  or  who  hath  be- 
gotten the  drops  of  dew  ?"  It  seems  the  oriental  wri- 
ters delighted  to  represent  the  dew  as  a  kind  of  birth, 
as  the  otispring  of  the  morning.  And  if  so,  surely 
there  could  be  no  image  in  the  whole  compass  of  the 
universe  better  adapted  to  the  Psabnist's  purpose,  or 
more  strongly  significant  of  those  niultiludes  of  jn'o- 
selvtes,  which  were  born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the 
will  of  the  tiesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God, 
by  the  powerful  energy  of  his  word  and  spirit.  Upon 
this  supjiosition  the  whole  verse  describes 
The  willing  subjection,  ") 

Thegracious  accomplishments,  >of  Christ's  converts. 
And  the  vast  number,  ) 

14.  d.  In  the  day  of  thy  power,  when  thy  glorious 
gospel  shall  be  published  in  the  world,  and  accompa- 
nied with  marvellous  ethcacy,— in  that  memorable 
penod,  thy  peoplediscontinuingtheforraer  oblations, 
commancltd  under  the  Mosaic  law,  shal  devote  them- 
selves as  so  many  living  sacrifices  to  thy  honour,  not 
constrained  by  i'orce,  but  charmed  with  thy  excel- 
lency, they  shall  come  in  volunteers  to  thy  service, 
and  be  free-will-oflerings  in  thy  church. — Neither  shall 
they  be  "empty  vines,"  or  bare  professors;  but  shall 
walk  in  all  the  beauties  of  holiness,  and  bring  forth 
such  amiable  fruit,  as  will  adorn  the  doctrine  they 
embrace.— \\  hat  is  still  more  desirable,  they  shall  be 
as  numerous  as  they  are  willing  and  holy.  Born  to 
thee  in  numbers,  immense  and  inconceivable,  ex- 
ceeding even  the  countless  myriads  of  dew-drops, 
which  .are  l}egotten  by  the  night,  and  issue  from  the 
womb  of  the  recent  morning. 

By  this  intcrprttation,  the  text,  I  think,  is  cleared 
of  its  obscurJty,  and  appears  both  truly  sublime,  and 
perfectly  just. 

May  I  be  pardoned  the  digression,  and  acquitted 
from  presumjition,  if  on  this  occasion,  I  take  leave 
to  animadvert  upon  what  seems  harsh  and  unnatural 
in  the  common  exiiosition  of  the  last  verse  of  this 
psalm  <  All  the  commentators  (as  many  at  least  as  I 
have  consulted)  inform  their  readers,  that  todrinkof 
the  brook  in  the  way,  signifies  to  undergo  sufferings 
and  death;  which,  in  my  opinion,  is  a  construction 
extremely  forced,  and  hardly  supportable;  altogether 
remote  from  the  import  of  such  poetical  forms  of 
diction  usual  among  the  eastern  nations.  In  those 
sultry  climes,  nothii-g  could  be  more  welcome  to  the 
traveller  than  a  brook  streaming  near  his  paths.  To 
quench  his  thirst  and  lave  his  feet  in  the  cooling 
current,  was  one  of  the  greatest  refreshments  imagin- 
able and  re-animated  hiin  to  pursue  his  journey. 
For  which  reason,  among  others,  brooks  are  a  very 
favourite  image  with  the  inspired  penman  ;  used  to 
denote  a  situation  fertile  and  dtlightfu',  or  a  state  of 
pleasure  and  satisfaction  ;  but  never,  that  I  can  recol- 
lect, to  picture  out  the  contrary  condition  of  tribu- 
lation and  distress. 

The  water-floods,  indeed,  in  the  sacred  writings,  of- 
ten represent  some  imminent  danger  or  grievous  af- 
fliction. But  then  thev  are  not— s  reams  so  calm, 
that  they  keep  within  tficir  banks,  and  glide  quietly 
by  the  traveller's  footsteps;  so  clear  that  they  are  fit 
for  the  wav-faring  man's  use,  and  invite  his  lips  to  a 
draught ;  I'joth  which  notions  are  plainly  implied  in 
the  text.  They  are  rather  boisterous  billows,  burstinj; 
over  a  ship,  or  dashing  themselves  with  dreadful  im- 
petuosity upon  the  shore;  or,  sweeping  inundations, 
which  bear  down  all  before  them ,  and  drown  the  neigh- 
bouring country.  Besides,  in  these  instances  of  hor- 
ror, we  never  tiiid  the  words— Heshall  drink;  which 
coiivevs  a  pleasing  idea  (unless  when  it  relates  to  a 
cup,  tilled  with  bitter,  intoxicating,  or  impoisoncd 
liciuors  ;  a  case  (\\x\\e  ditferent  from  that  under  coi»» 


30 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


mi]y,  and  replenish  thy  church  ;  till  they 
become  like  the  stars  of  the  sky,  or  the 
sands  of  the  sea,  for  multitude  ;  or  even  as 
numberless  as  these  line  spangles,  which  now 

cover  the  face  of  natm-e Behold  then,  ye 

obstinately  wicked,  though  you  "  are  not  ga- 
thered, yet  wiU  the  Sanour  be  glorious." 
His  design  shall  not  miscarry,  nor  his  labour 
prove  abortive,  though  you  render  it  of  none 
effect  with  regard  to  yourselves.  Think 
not  that  Immanuel  will  want  believers,  or 
heaven  inhabitants,  because  you  continue 
incorrigible.  No  ;  the  Lamb  that  was  slain, 
will  "  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and  be 
satisfied,"  in  a  never-failing  series  of  faith- 
ful people  below,  and  an  immense  choir  of 
glorified  saints  above  ;  who  shall  form  his 
retinue,  and  surround  his  throne,  in  shining 
and  triumphant  armies,  such  as  no  man  can 
number- 
Here  I  was  reminded  of  the  various  ex- 
pedients which  Providence,  unsearchably 
wise,  uses  to  fructify  both  the  material  and 
intellectual  world. — Sometimes  you  shall 
have  impetuous  and  heavy  showers,  burst- 
ing from  the  angry  clouds.  They  lash  the 
plains,  and  make  the  rivers  foam.  A  storm 
brings  them,  and  a  deluge  follows  them. — 
At  other  times  these  gentle  dews  are  form- 
ed in  the  serene  evening  air ;  they  steal 
down  by  slow  degrees,  and  wth  insensible 
stillness  ;  so  subtile  that  they  deceive  the 
nicest  eye  ;  so  silent  that  they  escape  the 
most  delicate  ear  ;  and  when  fallen,  so  very 
light,  that  they  neither  bruise  the  tenderest, 
nor  oppress  the  weakest  flower, — very  dif- 
ferent operations  !  yet  each  concurs  in  the 
same  beneficial  end  ;  and  both  impart  fer- 
tility to  the  lap  of  nature. 

So,  some  persons  have  I  known  reclaim- 
ed from  the  unfruitful  works  of  darkness, 
by  violent  and  severe  means.   The  Abnighty 


sideration,)  but  either,  such  words  as  import  terror 
and  astonishment,  or  else  to  rush  upon,  to  overwhehn, 
and  even  to  bury  under  the  waves. 

Upon  the  whole,  may  not  the  passage  more  pro- 
perly allude  to  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Ghost? 
which  were  communicated  in  unmeasurable  degrees 
to  our  great  High  Priest,  and  were  in  fact  the  cause  of 
his  surmounting  all  difficulties. — These  are  frequently 
represented  by  waters :  "  Whoso  believeth  on  me, 
out  of  his  belly  shall  flow  rivers  of  living  waters." 
The  enjoyment  of  them  is  described  by  drinking; 
«'  He  that  drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him 
shall  never  thirst."— Then  the  sense  may  run  in  this 
well-connected  and  perspicuous  manner.  It  is  asked, 
How  shall  the  Redeemer  be  able  to  execute  the  va- 
rious and  important  offices  foretold  in  the  preceding 
parts  of  the  psalm;  the  Prophet  replies,  He  shall 
drink  of  the  brook  in  the  way.  He  shall  not  be  left 
barely  to  his  liuman  nature,  which  must  unavoidably 
sink  under  the  tremendous  work  of  recovering  a  lost 
world,  but,  through  the  whole  course  of  his  incarnate 
state,  through  the  whole  administration  of  his  medi- 
atorial kindgom,  shall  be  supported  with  omnipotent 
succours.  He  shall  drink  at  the  brook  of  Almighty 
power,  and  travel  on  in  the  greatness  of  an  imcreated 
strength. — Therefore  shall  he  lift  up  his  head.  Ry 
this  means  shall  he  be  equal  to  the  prodigious  tnsl;, 
and  superior  to  all  opposition.  By  this  means,  sh:'.ll 
he  be  thoroughly  successful  in  whatever  he  under- 
takes, and  greatly  triumphant  over  ail  liisenemiLS. 


addressed  their  stubborn  hearts,  as  he  ad-' 
dressed  the  Israelites  at  Sinai,  with  light- 
ning in  his  eyes,  and  thunder  in  his  voice. 
The  conscience,  smit  with  a  sense  of  guQt, 
and  apprehensive  of  eternal  vengeance,  trem- 
bled through  all  her  powers  ;  just  as  that 
strong  mountain  tottered  to  its  centre. 
Pangs  of  remorse,  and  agonies  of  fear,  pre- 
ceded their  new  birth.  They  were  reduc- 
ed to  the  last  extremities,  almost  ovenvhelm- 
ed  with  despair,  before  they  foimd  rest  in 
Jesus  Christ. — Others  have  been  recovered 
from  a  vain  conversation,  by  methods  more 
mild  and  attractive.  The  Father  of  spirits 
applied  himself  to  their  teachable  minds,  in 
"  a  stiU  and  small  voice."  His  grace  came 
down,  as  the  rain  into  a  fleece  of  wool  ;  or, 
as  these  softening  drops,  which  now  water 
the  earth.  The  kingdom  of  God  took 
place  in  their  souls,  wthout  noise  or  obser- 
vation. They  passed  from  death  unto  Ufe, 
from  a  canial  to  a  regenerate  state,  by 
almost  imperceptible  advances.  The  tran- 
sition resembled  the  growth  of  com  ;  was 
very  visible  when  affected  ;  though  scarce 
sensible,  while  accomplishing. — O  thou  Au- 
thor and  Finisher  of  our  faith,  recal  us  from 
our  wanderings,  and  re-iniite  us  to  thyself  ! ' 
Whether  thou  alarm  us  with  thy  terrors,  or 
allure  us  with  thy  smiles  ;  whether  thou 
drive  us  with  the  scourge  of  conviction,  or 
draw  us  with  the  cords  of  love  ;  let  us,  in 
any  wdse,  return  to  thee  ;  for  thou  art  our 
supreme  good  ;  thou  art  our  only  happi- 
ness. 

Before  I  proceed  further,  let  me  ascend 
the   terrace,  and  take    one    siu'vey   of  the 

neighbouring  country What    a   prospect 

rushes  upon  my  sight  !  How  vast  !  how 
various  !  how  "  fuU  and  plenteous  with  aU 
manner  of  store  !"  Nature's  whole  wealth  ! 
— What  a  ricE  and  inexhaustible  magazine 
is  here,  furnishing  subsistence  for  every 
creature  !  Methinks  I  read  in  these  spacious 
volumes,  a  most  lively  comment  upon  that 
noble  celebration  of  the  di\dne  beneficence  , 
He  openeth  his  hand,  and  filleth  all  things 
living  with  plenteousness. 

These  are  thv  glorious  works.  Parent  of  good  ! 
Almighty  !    Thine  this  universal  frame. 
Thus  wondrous  fair !  Thyself  how  wondrous  then . 

Milton. 

The  fields  are  covered  deep,  and  stand 
thick  with  corn.  They  expand  the  milky 
grain  to  the  sun,  in  order  to  receive  from 
his  beams  a  more  firm  consistence,  and  a 
golden  hue  ;  that  they  may  be  qualified  to 
fill  the  barns  of  the  husbandman  wath  plen- 
ty, and  his  heart  with  gladness. 

Yonder  lie  the  meadows,  smoothed  into  a 
perfect  level  ;  decorated  with  an  embroid- 
ery of  the  gayest  flovvers,  and  loaded  with* 


-Injussa  virescunt 
Graniiiul. 


Vi'S- 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER  GARDEN. 


31 


spontaneous  crops  of  herbage  ;  which,  foii- 
verted  into  hay,  will  prove  a  most  commo- 
dious provision  for  the  barrenness  of  win- 
ter ;  will  supply  with  fodder  our  serviceable 
animals,  wlien  all  the  verdure  of  the  plain  is 
killed  by  frosts  or  biu-ied  in  snows. — A 
^\^nding  stream  glides  along  the  flowery 
margin,  and  receives  the  image  of  the  bend- 
ing skies,  and  waters  the  root  of  many  a 
branching  willow.  It  is  stocked,  no  doubt, 
with  variety  of  tish,  which  afford  a  solitary 
diversion  to  the  angler,  and  nourish  for  his 
table  a  delicious  treat.  Nor  is  it  the  only 
merit  of  this  liquid  element,  to  maintain  the 
finny  nations  :  it  also  carries  cleanliness, 
and  tlispenses  friiitfiilncss,  wherever  it  rolls 
the  crystal  current. 

The  pastures  with  their  verdant  mounds, 
cliequer  the  prospect,  and  prepare  a  stand- 
ing repast  for  oiu-  cattle.  There  "  om' 
oxen  are  made  strong  to  labour,  and  oiu- 
sheep  bring  forth  thousands  and  ten  thou- 
sands." There  the  horse  acquires  vigour, 
for  the  dispatch  of  our  business  ;  and  speed, 
to  e.Yjiedite  our  journeys.  From  tiience 
the  kine  bring  home  their  udders  distended 
with  one  of  the  richest  and  heiJthiest  liquors 
in  the  world. 

On  several  spots  a  grove  of  trees,  like 
some  griuid  colonnade,  erects  its  towering 
head.  Even'  one  projects  a  friendly  shade 
for  the  beasts,  and  creates  an  hospitable 
lodging  for  the  birds.  Every  one  stands 
ready,  to  furnish  timber  for  a  palace,  masts 
for  a  navy  ;  or  with  a  more  condescending 

courtesy,   fuel    for    our    hearths One    of 

them  seems  skirted  with  a  udld  uncidtivat- 
ed  heath  ;  wliich,  like  well-disposed  shades 
in  painting,  thi'ows  an  adchtional  lustre  on 
the  more  ornamented  paits  of  the  landscape. 
Nor  is  its  usefidness,  like  that  of  a  foil,  re- 
lative only,  but  real.  There  several  vidua- 
ble  creatiu'es  are  ju'oduced.  aiW  accommoda- 
dated  vnthout  any  expense  or  care  of  ours. 
There  likewise  spring  abiuidance  of  those 
herbs,  wliich  assuage  the  smart  of  oiu- 
wounds,  and  allay  the  fiery  tumidts  of  the 
fever  ;  ^vhich  im])art  fluridity  to  our  circu- 
lating fliuds,  add  a  more  vigorous  tone  to 
om-  active  solids,  and  thereby  repair  the  de- 
cays of  our  enfeebled  constitutions. 

Nearer  the  houses  we  perceive  an  ample 
spread  of  branches  !  not  so  stately  as  the 
oaks,  but  more  luniable  for  their  annuiil  ser- 
vices. A  little  while  ago,  I  beheld  them  ; 
and  all  was  one  beauteous,  boundless  waste 
of  blossoms.  The  eye  m;u-velled  at  the 
lovely  sight,  and  the  heart  rejoiced  in  the 
prospect  of  autmnniJ  plenty.  But  now  the 
blooming  maid  is  resigned  for  the  usefid 
matron  ;  the  fiower  is   fidlen,  and  the  fruit 

swells   out  ou  ever)-  twig Breathe  soft, 

ye  winds  !  O,  spare  the  tender  fruitage,  ye 
surly  bliist  !  Let  the  pear-tree  suckle  her 
juicy  progeny,  till  they  drop  uito  our  bands 


and  dissolve  in  our  mouths.  Let  the  plumb 
hang  unmolested  ujion  her  boughs,  tiU  she 
fatten  her  delicious  tlesh,  and  cloud  her  po- 
lished skin  Avith  blue.  And  as  for  the 
apples,  that  stapple  commodity  of  our  or- 
chards, let  no  injiu-ious  shocks  precipitate 
them  immatiu-ely  to  the  groinid  ;  till  re- 
volving suns  have  tinged  them  witli  a  ruddy 
complexion,  and  concocted  them  into  an  ex- 
quisite flavour.  Then,  what  cojjious  hoards, 
of  what  biu-nished  rinds,  and  what  delight- 
ful relishes,  will  replenish  the  store-room  ! 
Some,  to  present  us  with  an  early  enter- 
tainment, and  refresh  our  ])alates  amidst 
the  sultry  heats  ;  some,  to  borrow  rii)eness 
from  the  falling  snows,  and  cany  autumn 
into  the  de])ths  of  winter ;  some,  to  adorn 
the  salver,  make  a  part  of  the  dessert,  and 
give  an  agreeable  close  to  our  feasts:* 
others,  to  fill  oiu-vats  with  a  foaming  flood, 
which,  mellowed  by  age,  may  sparkle  in  the 
glass,  with  a  liveliness  and  delicacy  little 
inferior  to  the  blood  of  the  grape. 

I  observe  several  small  inclosures,  which 
seem  to  be  apprehensive  of  some  hostile 
v-isit  from  the  north  ;  and  therefore,  are  de- 
fended, on  that  quarter,  by  a  thick  wood  or 
a  lofty  wall.  At  the  same  time,  they  cid- 
tivate  an  uninterrujjted  correspondence  with 
the  south,  and  throw  open  their  whole  di- 
mensions to  its  friendly  wiu-mth.  One,  in 
particular,  Ues  within  the  reach  of  a  distin- 
guishing view,  and  proves  to  be  a  kitcheu- 
gcU'den.  It  looks,  methinks,  like  a  plain  and 
frugvd  republic.  Wliatever  may  resemble 
the  pomp  of  courts,  or  the  ensigns  of  royal- 
ty, is  banished  from  this  humble  communi- 
ty. None  of  the  productions  of  the  oli- 
toiy  affect  finery,  but  all  are  habited  with 
perfect  decency.  Here  those  celebrated 
qualities  are  eminently  united,  the  utmost 
simplicity  with  the  exactest  neatness.f 

A  skilful  hand  has  parcelled  out  the 
whole  ground  into  narrow  beds,  and  interven- 
ing alleys.  The  same  discreet  management 
has  assigned  to  each  verdant  family  a  pecu- 
liar and  distinct  abode.  So  that  there  is  no 
confusion  amidst  the  greatest  midtij)licity  ; 
because  every  individual  is  associated  with 
propriety,  and  all  the  tribes  are  ranged  wdtb 
regulaiity.  If  it  be  jdeasing  to  behold  their 
orderly  situation,  and  their  modest  beauties  ; 
how  much  more  delightfid,  to  consider  the 
advantages  they  yield!  What  a  -fund  of 
choice  accommodations  is  here !  what  a 
source  of  wholesome  dainties  !  and  all  for 
the  enjoyment  of  man.  Why  does  the  pars- 
ley, with  her  frizzled  locks,  shiig  the  bor- 
der ;  or,  why  the  celery,  witli  her  whiten- 
ing arms,  perforate  the  mold,  but  to  render 
liis  soups  savoury  ?    The   asparagus   shoots 


Abovo 

Usque  ad  mala Hor, 

t  StiTipIex  niunditiib.— Hur. 


«2 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


bis  tapering  stems  to  offer  him  the  first 
fruits  of  the  season  ;  and  the  artichoke 
spreads  its  tiirgid  top,  to  give  him  a  treat 
of  vegetable  marrow.  The  tendrils  of  the 
cucumber*  creep  into  the  sun  ;  and,  though 
basking  in  its  hottest  niys,  they  secrete  for 
their  master,  and  barrel  up  for  his  use  the 
most  cooling  juices  of  the  soil.  The  beans 
stand  firm,  like  files  of  embattled  troops  ; 
the  peas  rest  upon  their  props,  like  so  many 
companies  of  invlilids ;  while  both  re- 
plenish their  pods  with  the  fatness  of  the 
earth,  on  purpose  to  pour  it  on  their  owner's 
tiible — Not  one  species  among  all  this  va- 
riety of  herbs  is  a  cumberer  of  the  groimd. 
Not  a  single  plant  but  it  is  good  for  food, 
or  some  way  salutary.  With  so  benefi- 
cent an  economy  are  the  several  periods  of 
their  ministrations  settled,  that  no  portion 
of  the  year  is  left  destitute  of  nourishing 
esculents.  What  is  still  more  obliging, 
every  portion  of  the  year  affords  such  escu- 
lents as  are  best  suited  to  the  temperature 
of  the  air,  and  the  state  of  onr  bodies. 
Why  then  should  the  possessor  of  so  valu- 
able a  spot  envy  the  condition  of  kings,f 
since  he  may  daily  walk  amidst  rows  of 
peaceable  and  obsequious,  though  mute 
subjects.  Every  one  of  which  tenders  him 
some  agreeable  present,  and  pays  him  a 
willing  tribute,  such  as  is  most  happily 
adapted  both  to  supply  his  wants,  and  to 
regide  his  taste ;  to  furnish  him  at  once 
with  plenty  and  \nth  pleasure. 

At  a  distance,  one  descries  the  mighty 
hills.  They  have  their  huge  ridges  among 
the  clouds ;  and  look  like  the  barriers  of 
kingdoms  or  the  boundaries  of  nature. 
Bare  and  deformed  as  their  surface  may  ap- 
pear, their  bowels  are  fraught  with  inward 
treasures  !  treasures  lodged  fast  in  the  quar- 
ries, or  sunk  deep  in  the  mines.  From 
thence  industry  may  draw  her  implements, 
to  plough  the  soil,  to  reap  the  grain,  and  pro- 
cure every  necessary  convenience,  f^rom 
thence,  art  may  fetch  her  materials  to  rear 
the  dome,  to  swell  the  organ,  and  form  the 
noblest  ornaments  of  politer  life. 

On  another  side,  the  gi'eat  deep  termi- 
nates the  view.  There  go  the  ships  ;  there 
is  that  kn'iathan  ;  and  there,  in  that  world 
of  waters,  an  inconceivable  number  of  ani- 
mals have  their  habitation.  This  is  the 
capacious  cistern  of  the  universe,  which  ad- 


•  Virgil,  with  great  conciseness,  and  equal  proprie- 
ty, describes  the  cucumber 

— — Tortuscjue  per  herbain 

Crcsc -ret  in  ventrem  ciicumis Genrcr.  TV. 

Milton  has  (if  we  admit  Dr.  Bently's  alteration, 
which  is,  I  think,  in  this  place,  unquestionably  just) 
ahnost  translated  the  Latin  poet, 

Forth  crept 

The  swellinr;  gourd.— Par.  Lo«^  B.  7. 1.  320. 

♦  Hir  rarum  tamen  in  rtumis  olus,  albaque  circum 

Lilia  verbenasque  premens,  vcscumque  papaver. 

Regnum  a?quehat  opes  aniinis  ;  seracpie  revertens 

Nocte  dotnum,  dapibiismensiisnnerabat  inempfis. 

Vir.  Geiirg.ir. 


mits  as  into  a  deep  receptacle,  and  distri- 
butes as  from  a  reservoir,  whatever  waters 
the  whole  globe.  There  is  not  a  fountain 
that  gushes  in  the  unfrequented  desert, 
nor  a  rividet  that  flows  in  the  remotest  con- 
tinent, nor  a  cloud  that  swims  in  the  highest 
regions  of  the  firmament,  but  is  fed  by  this 
all-replenishing  source.  The  ocean  is  the 
grand  vehicle  of  trade,  and  the  uniter  of 
distant  nations.  To  us  it  is  peculiarly 
kind,  not  only  as  it  wafts  into  our  ports  the 
harvest  of  every  climate,  and  renders  our 
island  the  centre  of  traffic,  but  also  as  it  se- 
cures us  from  foreign  invasion,  by  a  sort  of 
impregnable  entrenchment.  * 

Methinks  the  view  of  this  profuse  mu- 
nificence inspires  a  secret  delight,  and  kin- 
dles a  disinterested  good-will.  While  the 
"  little  hills  clap  their  hands,"  and  the  luxu- 
riant "  vallies  laugh  and  sing,"  who  can 
forbear  catching  the  general  joy  ?  who  is 
not  touched  with  lively  sensations  of  plea- 
sure ?  While  the  everlasting  Father  is  scat- 
tering blessings  through  his  whole  family, 
and  crowning  the  year  A\dth  his  goodness, 
who  does  not  feel  his  breast  overflowing 
with  a  diffusive  benevolence  ?  My  heart,  I 
must  confess,  beats  high  with  satisfaction, 
and  breathes  out  congratulatory  wishes  up- 
on all  the  tenants  of  these  rural  abodes  : 
■"  Peace  be  within  yoiu-  walls,  as  well  as 
plenteousness  around  your  dwellings."  Live 
ye  highly  favoured ;  live  sensible  of  your 
benefits,  and  thankful  to  your  benefactor. 
Look  round  upon  these  prodigiously  large 
incomes  of  the  fruitfid  soil,  and  call  them 
(for  you  have  free  leave)  aU  your  own. 
—  Only  let  me  remind  you  of  one  very  im- 
portant truth,  let  me  suggest,  and  may  you 
never  forget  that  you  are  obliged  to  Christ 
Jesus  for  every  one  of  these  accommoda- 
tions, which  spring  from  the  teeming  earth, 
and  the  smiling  skies.      For, 

1.  Christf  made  them,  when  they  were 


»  Whose  rampart  was  the  sea.    Nab.  iii.  8. 

I  hope  this  little  excursion  into  the  country  will 
not  be  looked  upon  as  a  departure  from  my  subject ; 
because  a  rural  view,  though  no  essential  part  of  a 
garden,  is  yet  a  desirable  appendage,  and  necessary  to 
complete  its  beauty. — As  usefulness  is  the  most  valua- 
ble property  which  can  attend  any  production,  this  is 
the  circumstance  chiefly  touched  upon  in  the  survey 
of  the  landscape.  Though  every  piece  of  this  exten- 
sive and  diversified  scene  is  cast  in  the  most  elegant 
mould,  yet  nothing  is  calculated  merely  for  show  and 
parade.  You  see  nothing  formed  in  the  taste  of  the 
ostentatious  obelisk,  or  insignificant  pomp  of  the  py- 
ramid. No  such  idle  expenses  were  admitted  into 
that  consummate  plan,  which  regulated  the  structure 
of  the  universe.  All  the  decorations  of  nature  are  no 
less  advantageous  than  ornamental;  such  as  speak 
the  Maker  infinitely  beneficent,  as  well  as  incompar- 
ably magnificent. 

t  When  I  ascribe  the  work  of  creation  to  the  Son, 
I  wouH  by  no  means  be  supposed  to  with-hold  the 
same  honour  from  the  eternal  Father,  and  ever-bless- 
ed Spirit.  The  acts  of  those  inconceivably  glorious 
persons  are,  like  their  essence,  undivided  and  one. 
But  1  choose  to  state  the  important  point  in  this  man- 
ner, because  this  is  the  manifest  doctrine  of  the  new 
Testament,  is  the  express  belief  of  our  church,  and  a 
most  noble  peculiarity  of  the  gospel  revelation,—! 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


na 


not He  fetched  them  up  from  utter  dark- 
ness, and  gave  them  both  their  being  and  their 
beauty.  He  created  the  materials  of  which 
they  are  composed,  and  moulded  them  into 
this  endless  niultij)licity  of  amiable  forms, 
and  useful  substances.  He  arrayed  the 
heavens  with  a  vesture  of  the  mildest  blue, 
and  clothed  the  earth  in  a  livery  of  the  gay- 
est green ;  his  pencil  streaked,  and  his 
breath  perfumed  whatever  is  beautifid  or 
fragrant  in  the  universe.  His  strength  set 
fast  the  mountains  ;  his  goodness  garnished 
the  vales  ;  and  the  same  touch  which  heal- 
ed the  leper  wrought  the  Avhole  visible  sys- 
tem into  this  complete  perfection. 

2.     Christ    recovered    them    when    they 

were  forfeited By  Adam's  sin,  we    lost 

our  right  to  the  comforts  of  life,  and  fruits 
of  the  ground  :  his  disobedience  was  the 
most  impious  and  horrid  treason  against 
the  King  of  kings.  Consequently  his 
whole  patrimony  became  confiscated;  as  well 
the  portion  of  temporal  good  things,  settled 
upon  the  human  race  during  their  minority ; 
as.  that  everlasting  heritage  reserved  for 
their  enjoyment  when  they  should  come  to 
full  aije.  But  the  "  seed  of  the  woman," 
instantly  interposing,  took  off  the  attainder, 
and  redeemed  the  alienated  inheritance. 
The  fii-st  Adam  being  disinherited,  the  se- 
cond Adam  was  ajipointed  heir  of  all 
things,*  visible  as  well  as  invisible  ;  and  we 
hold  our  i)Ossession  of  the  former,  we  ex- 
pect an  instatement  in  the  latter,  purely  by 


choose,  it  also,  because  I  would  take  evcy  opportuni- 
tv  of  inculcating  and  celebrating  the  divinity  of  the 
Redeemer  :  a  trutli  which  imparts  an  unutterable 
dignity  to  Christianity  ;  a  truth,  which  lays  an  im- 
moveable foundation  for  all  the  comfortable  hopes  of 
a  Christian ;  a  truth  which  will  render  the  mystery 
of  our  redemption,  the  wonder  and  delight  of  eter- 
nity; and  with  this  truth  every  one  will  observe,  my 
assertion  is  inseparably  connected. 

If  any  one  questions,  whether  this  be  the  doctrine 
of  our  church,  let  the  creed,  which  we  repeat  in  our 
most  solemn  devotions,  determine  his  doubt ;  "  1  be- 
lieve," savs  that  form  of  sound  words,  "  in  one  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  very  God  of  very  God,  by  whom  all 
things  were  made." — If  it  be  farther  inquired,  from 
whence  the  Nicene  fathers  derived  this  article  of 
their  faith?  I  answer,  from  the  writings  of  the  }ye- 
loved  disciple,  who  lav  on  the  Saviour's  bosom  ;  and 
of  that  great  apostle  who  had  been  caught  up  into  the 
third  heaven.    John  i.  X    Col.  i.  16. 

*  Heb.  i.  2. — In  this  sense,  at  least,  Christ  is  the 
Saviour  of  all  men.  The  former  and  latter  rain  ;  the 
precious  fruits  of  the  earth,  food  to  eat,  and  raiment 
to  put  on ; — all  these  he  purchased,  even  for  his  irre- 
claimable enemies.  They  eat  of  his  bread,  who  lift 
up  their  heel  against  him. 

We  learn  from  hence,  in  what  a  peculiar  and  en- 
dearing light  the  Christian  has  to  contemplate  the 
things  that  are  seen.  Heathens  might  discover  an 
eternal  power  and  infinite  wisdom,  in  the  structure 
of  the  universe;  heathens  might  acknowledge  a  most 
stupendous  liberality,  in  the  unreserved  grant  of  the 
whole  fabric,  with  all  its  furniture,  to  the  service  of 
man  ;  but  the  Christian  should  ever  keep  in  mind  his 
forfeiture  of  them,  and  the  price  paid  to  redeem  them. 
He  should  receive  the  gifts  of  indulgent  providence, 
as  the  Israelites  received  their  law  from  the  hand  of 
a  mediator  ;  or  rather,  to  him  they  should  come,  not 
only  issuing  from  the  stores  of  an  unboundeil  bounty  ; 
but  swimming  (as  it  were)  in  that  crimsoa  tide, 
which  streamed  from  Immanuel's  veins. 


virtue  of  our  alliance  to  him,  and  our  union 
with  him. 

3.  Christ  upholds  them,  which  would 
otherwise  tumble  into  ruin. — By  him  says 
the  oracle  of  inspiration,  all  things  consist.  • 
His  finger  rolls  the  seasons  round,  and  pre- 
sides over  all  the  celestial  revolutions.  His 
finger  winds  up  the  wheels,  and  impels 
every  spring  of  vegetative  nature.  In  a 
word,  the  whole  weight  of  the  creation  rests 
upon  his  mighty  arm,  and  receives  the  whole 
harmony  of  its  motion  from  his  unerring 
eye — This  habitable  globe,  with  all  its  rich 
appendages,  and  fine  machinery,  could  no 
more  continue,  than  they  could  create  them- 
selves. Start  they  would  into  instant  con- 
fusion, or  drop  into  their  primitive  nothing, 
did  not  his  power  support,  and  his  wisdom 
regulate  them  every  moment.  In  coiitonn- 
ity  to  his  will,  they  subsist  steadfast  and  in- 
variable in  their  orders  ;  and  wait  only  for 
his  sovereign  nod,  to  "  fall  away  like  water 
that  runneth  apace." 

4.  Christ  actuates  them.f  which  woidd 
otherwise  be  lifeless  and  insignificant — 
Pensioners  they  are,  constant  pensioners 
on  his  bounty  ;  and  borrow  their  all  from 
his  fulness.  He  only  has  life  ;  and  Mhat- 
ever  operates,  operates  by  an  emanation 
from  his  all  sufficiency.  Does  the  grape 
refresh  you  with  its  enlivening  juices?  It  is 
by  a  warrant  received,  aiid  virtue  derived, 
from  the  Redeemer.  Does  bread  strengthen 
yotu-  heart,  and  prove  the  staff  of  yom-  life? 
Remember,  that  it  is  by  the  Saviour's  ap- 
pointment, and  through  the  efficacy  of  his 
oi)eration.  You  are  charmed  with  his  me- 
lody, when  the  "  time  of  the  singing  of 
birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the  night- 
ingale is  heard  in  our  land."  You  taste  his 
goodness  in  the  luscious  fig,  the  melting 
peach,  and  the  musky  tlavourof  the  apricot. 
You  smell  his  sweetness  in  the  opening 
honey-suckle,  and  every  odoriferous  shrub. 
Could  these  creatures  speak  for  themselves 
they  would,  doubtless,  disclaim  all  sufficien- 
cy of  their  owii,  and  ascribe  the  whole  hon- 
our to  their  Maker "  We  are  servants," 

would  they  say,  "  of  him  who  died  for  you. 
Cisterns  only,  diy  cisterns  in  ourselves,  wc 
transmit  to  mortals  no  more  than  the  un- 
created fountain  transfuses  unto  us.  Think 
not,  that  from  any  ability  of  our  own,  we 


•  Col.  i.  17.  I  beg  leave  to  recommend  St.  Chrysos- 
tom's  pertinent  and  beautiful  note  upon  the  passage; 
by  which  it  will  appear,  that  the  sentiment  of  these 
sections  is  not  merely  a  i)rivate  opinion,  but  the  avow- 
ed belief  of  the  primitive  church. 

T  John  v.  17.  "My  Father  worketh  hitherto  and  I 
work;"  or,  I  fxert  that  unremitting  and  unwearied 
energy,  which  is  the  life  of  the  creation. — Thus  the 
words  are  paraphrased  by  a  masterly  expositor,  who 
has  illustrated  the  life  of  our  blessed  Lord,  in  the 
most  elegant  taste  of  criticism,  with  the  most  amiable 
spirit  of  devotion,  .and  without  any  mixture  of  the 
malignant  leaven  or  low  singularities  of  a  party.  Sea 
the  Family  Expositor,  Vol.  I.  sect.  47. 


34 


Rli:FLECTIONS  ON  A   FLOWER-GARDEN. 


furnish  you  wnth  assistance,  or  administer 
to  your  comfort.  It  is  the  divnne  energy, 
the  divine  energy  alone,  that  works  in  us, 

and  does  you  good We  serve  you,  O  ye 

sons  of  men,  that  you  may  love  him  who 
placed  you  in  these  stations.  O  !  love  the 
Lord,  therefore,  all  ye  who  are  supported 
by  our  ministry  ;  or  we  shall  groan  with  in- 
dignation and  regret  at  your  abuse  of  our 
services.  (Rom.  vm.  22.) — Use  us,  and 
welcome ;  for  we  are  yours,  if  ye  are  Christ's. 
Crop  our  choicest  beauties ;  rifle  all  our 
treasures,  accommodate  yourselves  with  our 
most  valuable  qualities  ;  only  let  us  be  in- 
centives to  gratitude,  and  motives  to  obe- 
dience." 

Hanng  sun'cyed  the  spacious  sky,  and 
sent  a  glance  round  the  inferior  creation,  it 
is  time  to  descend  from  this  eminence,  and 
confine  my  attention   to  the  beautiful  spot 

below Here     nature,     always    pleasing, 

every-where  lovely,  appears  with  peculiar 
attractions.  Yonder  she  seems  dressed  in  her 
dishabile  ;  grand,  but  irregular.  Here  she 
calls  in  her  hand-maid,  art  ;  and  shines  in 
all  the  delicate  ornaments  which  the  nicest 
cultivation  is  able  to  convey.  Those  are 
her  common  apartments,  where  she  lodges 
her  ordinary  guests  ;  this  is  her  cabinet  of 
curiosities,  where  she  entertains  her  inti- 
mate acquaintance My  eye  shall  often  ex- 
patiate over  those  scenes  of  universal  fertili- 
ty ;  my  feet  shall  sometimes  bnish  through 
the  thicket',  or  traverse  the  la^\Ti,  or  stroll 
along  the  forest-glade  ;  but  to  this  delight- 
ful retreat  shall  be  my  chief  resort.  Thi- 
ther wdll  I  make  excursions ;  but  here  will  I 
dwell. 

If,  from  my  low  procedure,  I  may  form 
an  allusion  to  the  most  exalted  practices,  I 
would  observe,  upon  this  occasion,  that  the 
celebrated  Erasmus,  and  our  judicious 
Jvocke,  having  trod  the  circle  of  the  sciences, 
and  ranged  through  the  whole  extent  of  hu- 
man literature,  at  length  betook  themselves 
solely  to  the  Bible.  Leaving  the  sages  of 
antiquity,  they  sat  incessantly  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus.  Wisely  they  withdrew  from  that 
immense  midtiplicity  of  learning,  from  those 
endless  tracts  of  amusing  erudition,  where 
noxious  weeds  are  mixed  with  wholesome 
herbs  :  where  is  generally  a  much  larger 
growth  of  prickly  shnibs,  than  of  fruitful 
boughs.  They  spent  their  most  mature 
hours  in  those  hallowed  gardens,  v.hich 
God's  own  wisdom  planted,  ^hich  God's 
own  Spirit  watereth,  and  in  \^-hich  God's 
ovm  Son  is  continually  walking  ;  ^^•hcre  he 
meeteth  those  that  seek  him,  and  revealeth 
to  them  the  glories  of  his  person,  and  the 
riches  of  his  goodness. 

Thus  would  I  iinish  the  remainder  of 
my  days  !  Having  just  tasted  what  they 
call  the  politer  studies,  I  would  now  devote 
my  whole  application  to  tlie  lively  oracles. 


From  other  pursuits,  I  might  glean,  peri- 
haps,  a  few  scattered  ears  of  low,  of  lean,  of 
unsatisfactory  instruction.  From  this,  I 
trust  to  reap  a  hai-vest  of  the  sublimest  truthsr 
the  noblest  improvements,  and  the  purest 
joys.*  Waft  me  then,  O  !  waft  my  mind  to 
Sion's  consecrated  bowers.  Let  my  thoughts- 
perpetually  rove  through  the  awfully-pleas-. 
ing  walks  of  inspiration.  Here  grow  those 
heaven-born  plants,  the  trees  of  life  and' 
knowledge,  whose  ambrosial  fruits  we  now 
may  "  take,  and  eat,  and  live  for  ever." 
Here  floAV  those  precious  streams  of  grace, 
and  righteousness,  whose  living  waters- 
"  whosoever  drinks,  shall  thirst  no  more." 
And  what  can  the  fables  of  Grecian  song, 
or  the  finest  jiages  of  Roman  eloquence, — 
Vi'hat  can  they  exhibit,  in  any  degree  com- 
parable to  these  matchless  prerogatives  of 
revelation  ! — Tlierefore,  though  I  should, 
not  dislike  to  pay  a  visit  now  and  then  to 
my  heathen  masters,  I  would  live  with  the 
prophets  and  apostles.  With  those  I  would 
cany  on  some  occasional  correspondence  : 
but  these  should  be  my  bosom-friends,  my 
inseparable  compiuiions,  "  my  delight,  and 
my  counsellors." 

"What  sweets  are  these,  which  so  agreea- 
bly salute  my  nostrils  !  They  are  the  breath, 
of  the  flowers,  the  incense  of  the  garden. — 
How  liberally  does  the  jessamine  dispense 
her  odoriferous  riches !  How  deliciously 
has  the  woodbine   embalmed  this  morning 

walk  '   The  air  is  all  perfume And  is  not 

this  another  most  engaging  argument  to 
forsake  the  bed  of  sloth?  Who  would  lie 
dissolved  in  senseless  slumbers,  while  so 
many  breathing  sweets  invite  him  to  a  feast 
of  fragrancy  !  Especially  considering  that 
the  advancing  day  will  exhale  the  volatile 
dainties.  A  fugitive  treat  they  are,  prepar- 
ed only  for  the  wakeful  and  industrious  ; 
whereas,  when  the  sluggard  lifts  his  heavy 
eyes,  the  flowers  will  di'oop,  their  fine  scents 
be  dissipated,  and  instead  of  this  refreshing 
humidity,  the  air  will  become  a  kind  of  li- 
quid fire. 

With  this  very  motive,  heightened  by  a 
representation  of  the  most  charming  pieces 
of  morning  scenery,  the  parent  of  mankind' 
awakes  his  lovely  consort.  There  is  such  a 
delicacy  in  the  choice,  and  so  much  life  in 
the  description  of  these  rural  images,  that  I 
cannot  excuse  myself,  without  repeating  the 

whole  passage Whisper  it  some  friendly 

genius,  in  the  ear  of  every  one,  who  is  now 
sunk  in  sleep,  and  lost  to  all  those  refined 
gratifications  ! 
Awake — The  morning  shines,  and  the  fresh  field 
Calls  you — Ve  lose  the  prime,  to  mark  how  spring 
The  tender  plants,  how  blows  the  citron  grove: 
V/liat  drops  the  myrrh,  and  what  the  balmy  reed ; 
1  ow  nature  paints  her  colours ;  how  the  hie 
Sits  on  the  bloom,  extracting  liquid  sweets  t 


*  Oi'icquid  docetur,  Veritas;  quicquid  prrecipiturt 
bonitas;  quicquid  promittitur  felicitas. 
t  Milt.  Par.  Lost.  Book  V.  line  2!/.. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


35 


I  low  delightful  is  this  fragrance  !  It  is 
distributed  in  the  nicest  proportion ;  neither 
so  strong  as  to  oppress  the  organs ;  nor  so 
faint  as  to  elude  them We  are  soon  cloy- 
ed at  a  sumptuous  banquet  ;  but  this  plea- 
sure never  loses  its  poignancy,  never  palls 
the  appetite Here  luxiuy  itself  is  inno- 
cent !  or  rather  in  this  case,  indulgence  is 
incapable  of  excess. — This  balmy  entertain- 
ment, not  only  regales  the  sense,  but  cheers 
the  very  soul?*  and  instead  of  clogging  elates 
its  powers.  It  puts  me  in  mind  of  that  ever 
memorable  sacrifice,  which  was  once  made 
in  behalf  of  offending  mortals.  I  mean  the 
sacrifice  of  the  blessed  Jesus,  when  he  ofl^er- 
ed  up  himself  imto  God  "  for  a  sweet 
smelling  savour."  Such  the  Holy  Spirit 
styles  that  wonderful  oblation  ;  as  if  no 
image  in  the  whole  sensible  creation  was  so 
proper  to  give  us  an  idea  of  the  ineffable  sa- 
tisfaction, which  the  Father  of  mercies  con- 
ceived from  that  unparalleled  atonement,  as 
the  pleasing  sensations  which  such  rich  per- 
fumes are  capable  of  raising.  "  Thousands 
of  rams,  and  ten  thousand  of  rivers  of  oil," 
from  an  apostate  world  ;  the  most  submis- 
sive acknowledgments,  added  to  the  most 
costly  offerings,  from  men  of  defiled  hands, 
and  unclean  lips  ;  what  could  they  have  ef- 
fected ?  A  prophet  represents  the  "  high  and 
lofty  one  that  inhabiteth  eternity,"  turning 
himself  away  from  such  filthy  rags  ;  turn- 
ing himself  away  with  disdainful  abhorrence 
as  from  the  noisome  steam  of  a  dunghill. 
(Amos  v.  21,  22.) — But  in  Christ's  imma- 
culate holiness,  in  Christ's  consummate  obe- 
dience, in  Christ's  most  precious  blood-shed- 
ding, with  what  an  unimaginable  complacen- 
cy does  justice  rest  satisfied,  and  vengeance 
acquiesce  ! — All  thy  works,  O  thou  surety 
for  ruined  sinners  !  all  thy  sufferings,  O 
thou  slaughtered  Lamb  of  God  !  as  well  as 
all  thy  garments,  O  thou  Bridegroom  of  thy 
church  !  smell  of  myrrh,  aloes,  and  cassia  ! 
(  Psal.  xlv.  9. )  They  are  infinitely  more  grate- 
ful to  the  eternal  Godhead,  than  the  choic- 
est exhalations  of  the  garden,  than  all  the 
odours  of  the  spicy  east  can  be  to  the  hu- 
man nostrils. 

As  the  altar  of  old  sanctified  the  gift  ; 
so  this  is  the  great  propitiation,  which  re- 
commends the  obnoxious  persons,  and  un- 
profitable services  of  the  believing  world. 
In  this  may  my  soul  be  interested  !  By  this 
it  may  be  reconciled  to  the  Father  ! — There 
is  such  a  leprous  depravity  cleaving  to  my 
nature,  as  pollutes  whatever  I  perform.  IMy 
most  profound  adorations,  and  sincere  acts 
of  religion,  must  not  presume  to  challenge  a 
reward,    but  humbly  implore  forgiveness. f 


Renouncing  therefore,  myself  in  every  in- 
stance of  duty  ;  disclaiming  all  shadow  of 
confidence  in  any  deeds  of  my  own,*  may  I 
now  and  evermore  be  accejJted  througli  the 
Beloved  ! 

What  colours,  what  charming  colours  are 
here  ?  These  so  nobly  bold  ;  and  those  so 
delicately  languid.  What  a  glow  is  enkin- 
dled in  some  !  what  a  gloss  shines  upon 
others  !  In  one,  methinks  I  see  the  ruby, 
with  her  bleeding  radiance  ;  in  another,  the 
sap))hire,  with  her  sky-tinctured  blue ;  in  all, 
such  an  exquisite  richness  of  dyes,  as  no 
other  set  of  paintings  in  the  universe  can 
boast. f — With  what  a  masterly  skill  is  every 
one  of  the  varying  tints  disposed  !  Here 
they  seem  to  be  thrown  on  with  an  easy 
dash  of  security  and  freedom  ;  there  tlv^y 
are  adjusted  by  the  nicest  touches  of  art  and 
accuracy.  Those  which  form  the  ground, 
are  always  so  judiciously  chosen,  as  to  heigh- 
ten the  lustre  of  the  superadded  figures  ; 
while  the  s'erdure  of  the  impalement,  or  the 
shadings  of  the  foliage,  impart  new  liveli- 
ness to  the  whole.  Indeed,  whether  they 
are  blended  or  arranged,  softened  or  con- 
trasted, they  are  manifestly  under  the  con- 
duct of  a  taste  that  never  mistakes,  a  felici- 
ty that  never  falls  short  of  the  veiy  perfec- 
tion of  elegance Fine,  inimitably  fine,  is 

the  texture  of  the  web,  on  which  these  shin- 
ing treasiucs  are  displayed.  Wliat  are  the 
labours  of  the  Persian  looms,  or  the  boast- 
ed commodities  of  Brussels,  compared  with 
these  curious  manufactures  of  nature  ? 
Compared  with  these,  the  most  admired 
chintzes  would  lose  their  reputation  ;  even 
superfine  cambrics  appear  coarse  as  can- 
vass in  their  presence. 

What  a  cheering  argument  does  our  Sa- 
viour derive  from  hence,  to  strengthen  our 
affiance  in  God  !  He  directs  us  to  learn  a 
lesson  ofheaven  depending  faith,  from  every 


•  ointment  and  perfume  rejoice  the  heart.  Prov. 
xx\'ii.  0. 

t  A  writer  of  distinpiished  superiority,  thus  ad- 
dicsses  the  great  olMcrvtr  of  actions,  and  seanlier  of 


hearts,   and  vindicates  my  sentiments,  while  he  so 
justly  and  beautifully  utters  his  own. 

Look  down,  great  God,  with  pity's  softest  eye. 
On  a  poor  breathing  particle  in  dust. 
His  crimes  forgive;  forgive  his  virtues  too, 
Those  smaller  faults,  half  converts  to  the  right. 
Nif'ht-Tlwiiffhf,  No.  ix. 
*  See  pages  44  and  45,  in  the  second  edition  of  a 
most  candid   aiid    evangelical   little   treatise,  called 
Christianity  tlietire.il  Oman  nut  of  Human  Life. — "If 
Christians  fiapiiily  .ncid  the  dangerous  extreme,  and 
too  often  fatal  roik  of  a  dead  fruitless  faith  on  tile 
one  hand,  he  {/.  e.  Satan)  will  endeavour,  by  all  kinds 
of  plausible  insinuations,  to  split  them  on  the  oppo- 
site, viz.  spiritual  pride,  and  ostentation, and  depend- 
ence on  their  works,  as  if  these  were  the  meritorious 
or  procuring  causes  of  all  true  peace,  hope,  consola- 
tion, and  divine  acceptance ; — Now,  this  self-depend- 
ence may  he  ranked  among  the  most  dangerous  of  th.e 
infernal  politics,  because  the  fatal  potion  lies  deep 
and  too  ofleii  undiscerned." 

t  \\  ho  can  ii.nint 

Like  Nature!  Can  imagination  boast, 

Amid  his  gay  creation,  nues  like  these  ? 

And  can  he  mix  them  with  that  matchless  skill. 

And  lay  them  on  so  delicately  fine. 

And  lose  them  in  each  other,  as  appears 

In  ev'ry  bud  that  blows  ? — Thorn.  Spring. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


ST,- 

f-ril  tliMt  wings  the  air,  and  from  every 
flower  that  blossoms  in  the  field.  If  Pro- 
vidence, with  unremitted  care,  supports 
those  inferior  creatures,  and  arrays  these  in 
sensible  beings  with  so  much  splendour  ; 
surely  he  will  in  710  wise  withhold  from  his 
elect  children,  "  bread  to  eat,  and  raiment 
to  put  on." — Ye  faithful  followers  of  the 
Lamb,  dismiss  every  low  anxiety,  relating 
to  the  needful  sustenance  of  life.  He  that 
feeds  the  ravens  from  an  inexhaustible  ma- 
gazine, he  that  paints  the  plants  with  such 
surpassing'  elegance  ;  in  short,  he  that  pro- 
vides so  liberally,  both  for  the  animid  and 
vegetable  parts  of  his  creation,  will  not, 
cannot,  neglect  his  own  people.  P^ear  not 
little  flock,  ye  peculiar  objects  of  Almighty 
love  ;  it  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to 
give  you  a  kingdom.  (Lukexii.  32.)  And 
if  he  freely  gives  you  an  everlasting  king- 
dom hereafter,  is  it  possible  to  suppose  that 
he  will  deny  you  any  necessary  convenien- 
cies  here  ? 

One  cannot  forbear  reflecting  in  tliis 
place,  on  the  too  prevailing  humour  of  being 
fond  and  ostentatious  of  dress.  *  What  an 
abject  and  mistaken  ambition  is  this.  How 
unworthy  the  dignity  of  immortal,  and  the 
wisdom  of  rational  beings  !  Especially  since 
these  little  productions  of  the  earth  have  in- 


•  Mr.  Addison  has  a  fine  remark  on  a  female  war- 
rior celebrated  by  Virgil.  He  observes,  that  with  all 
lier  other  great  qualities,  this  little  foible  mingled  it- 
self. Because,  as  the  poet  relates,  an  intemperate 
fondness  for  a  rich  and  splendid  suit  of  armour  be- 
trayed her  into  ruin.  In  this  circumstance  our  critic 
discovers  a  moral  concealed  ;  this  he  admires  as  a 
neat,  though  oblique  satire,  on  that  trifling  passion.— 
Spci:  vol.  r,  AV,.  1  j. 

I  would  refer  it  to  the  judicious  reader,  whether 
there  is  not  a  beauty  of  the  same  kind,  but  touched 
with  a  more  masterly  hand,  in  the  song  of  Deborah — 
Speaking  of  .Sisera's  mother,  the  sacred  eucharistic 
ode  represents  her  as  anticipating,  in  her  fond  fancy 
the  victory  of  her  son  ;  and  indulging  the  following 
soliloquy.— Have  they  not  sped  ?  have  they  not  divid- 
ed the  prey  ?  to  .Sisera  a  prey  of  divers  colours ;  a  prey 
of  divers  colours  of  needle-work  ;  of  divers  colours  of 
ntedlc-work  on  both  sides ;  meet  for  the  necks  of 
t.hom  that  take  the  spoil  ? — She  takes  no  notice  of  the 
signal  service  which  her  hero  would  do  to  his  coun- 
try, by  quelling  so  dangerous  an  insurrection.  She 
never  reflects  on  the  present  acclamations,  the  future 
advancement,  and  the  eternal  renown,  which  are  the 
tyibute  usually  paid  to  a  conqueror's  merit.  She  can 
conceive,  it  seems,  nothing  greater  than  to  be  clad  in 
an  embroidered  vesture  ;  and  to  trail  along  the 
ground  a  robe  of  the  richest  dyes.  This  is,  in  her 
imagination,  the  most  lordly  spoil  he  can  win ;  the 
most  stately  trophv  he  can  erect. — It  is  also  observa- 
ble, how  she  dwells  upon  the  trivial  circumstance  ; 
reiterating  it  again  and  again.  It  has  so  charmed 
her  ignoble  heart,  so  entirely  engrossed  her  little 
views,  that  she  can  think  of  nothing  else,  speak  of 
nothing  else,  andean  hardly  ever  desist  from  the  dar- 
ling topic. — Is  not  this  a"  keen,  though  delicately 
couched  censure,  on  that  poor,  contemptible,  grovel- 
ling taste,  which  isenamoured  with  silken  finery,  and 
makes  the  attributes  of  a  butterfly  the  idol  of  its  af- 
fections ' 

How  conspicuous  is  the  elevated  and  magnificent 
spirit  of  that  venerable  mother  in  Israel,  when  view- 
ed in  comparison  with  the  low,  the  despicable  turn  of 
this  Canaanitish  lady  !— Such  strong  and  beautiful 
contrasts,  are,  I  think,  some  of  the  most  striking  ex- 
cellencies of  poetic  painting ;  and  in  no  book  are  they 
more  frequently  used,  or  expressed  with  greater  life, 
than  in  the  sacred  volumes  of  inspiration. 


dispiitably  the  pre-eminence  in  such  oi»*-- 
ward  embellishments  — Go,  clothe  thyseff 
with  purple  and  fine  linen  ;  trick  thyself  up 
in  all  tlie  gay  attire  which  the  shuttle  or 
the  needle  can  furnish  ;  yet  know,  to  the 
mortification  of  thy  vanity,  that  the  native 
elegance  of  a  common  daisy*  eclipses  all 
this  elaborate  finery Nay,  wert  thou  deck- 
ed like  some  illustrious  princess,  on  her 
coronation  day,  in  all  the  splendour  of  roysil 
apparel ;  couldst  thou  equal  even  Solomon, 
in  tlie  height  of  his  magnificence  and  glo- 
ry ;  yet  would  the  meanest  among  the 
flowery  populace  outshine  thee  ;  every  dis- 
cciliing  eye  would  give  the  preference  to 
these  beauties  of  the  groundf — Scom  then 
to  borrow  thy  recommendations  from  a  neat 
disposition  of  threads  and  a  citrious  arrange- 
ment of  colours.  Assume  a  becoming 
greatness  of  temper ;  let  thy  endowments 
be  of  the  immortal  Idnd  ;  study  to  be  aU- 
glorious  within  ;  be  clothed  with  humility  ; 
wear  the  ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spi- 
lt, j:  To  say  all  in  a  word,  put  on  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  ;  (Rom.  xiii.  14.)  let  his 
blood  be  sprinklied  Upon  thy  conscience,  and 
it  shall  be  whiter  than  the  virgin-snow  ;  let 
his  righteousness,  like  a  spotless  robe,  adorn 
thy  iiuier  man,  and  thou  shalt  be  amiaWe 
even  in  the  most  distinguishing  eye  of  God. 
Let  his  blessed  Spirit  dwell  in  thy  heart, 
and  under  his  sanctifying  operations  thou 
shalt  be  made  partaker  of  a  divine  nature. 

These  are  real  excellencies  ;  truly  noble 
accomplishments  these.  In  this  manner  be 
arrayed,  be  beautified  ;  and  thou  wilt  not 
find  a  rival  in  the  feathers  of  a  peacock,  or 
the  foliation  of  a  tulip.  Tiiese  will  exalt 
thee  far  above  the  low  pretensions  of  lace 
and  embroidery.  These  will  prepare  thee 
to  stand  in  the  beatific  presence,  and  to 
take  thy  seat  among  the  angels  of  light. 

What  an  enchanting  situation  is  this  ! 
One  can  scarce  be  melancholy  within  the 
atmosj)here  of  flowers.  Such  lively  hueS, 
and  delicious  odours,  not  only  address  them- 
selves agreeably  to  the  senses  ;  but  touch, 
with  a  surprising  delicacy,  the  sweetest 
movements  of  the  mind  ; 

•  to  the  heart  inspiring 


Vemal  delight  and  joy.§ — Milton,  book  W. 


*  Peaceful  and  lowly  in  their  native  soil, 
They  neither  know  to  spin,  nor  care  to  toil ; 
Yet  with  confcss'd  magnificence  deride 
Our  mean  attire  and  impudence  of  pride, — Prior. 

t  Mr.  Cowley,  with  his  usual  brilliancy  of  imagina- 
tion, styles  thcin  stars  of  earth. 

t  How  beautifully  does  the  prophet  describe  the 
furniture  of  a  renewed  and  heavenly  mind,  undcrthe 
:5imilitude  of  a  rich  and  complete  suit  ot  apparel  : 
"  I  will  greatly  rejoice  in  the  Lord  ;  my  soul  shall  be 
joyful  in  my  Ood;  for  he  hath  clothed  me  with  the- 
garments  of  salvation;  he  hath  covered  me  with  the 
robe  of  righteousness,  as  a  bridegroom  decketh  him- 
self with  ornaments,  and  as  a  bride  adorneth  herself 
with  her  jewels."    Isa.  Ixi.  ll^ 

Ij  "  I  would  have  my  reader  endeavour  to  moralize 
'his  natural  pleasure  of  the  sou',  and  to  improve  this. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


..'How  often  have  I  felt  thoin  dissipate  tlie 
■gloom  of  thought,  and  trMisi'use  a  sudden 
gaiety  through  the  dejected  spirit !  I  win- 
not  wonder,  that  kings  descend  from  their 
thrones,  to  walk  amidst  blooming  ivory  and 
go4d ;  or  retire  from  the  most  sum])tuous  feast, 
to  be  recreated  with  the  more  refined  sweets 
of  the  garden.  I  cannot  wonder  that  queens 
forego,  for  a  while,  the  compliments  of  a  na- 
tion, to  receive  the  tribute  of  the  parterre  ; 
or  withdraw  from  all  the  glitter  of  a  coiu-t, 
to  be  attended  with  the  more  splendid  equi- 
page of  a  bed  of  flowers. — But,  if  this  be 
so  pleasing,  what  transporting  pleasure  must 
arise  from  the  fruition  of  uncreated  excel- 
lency !  O  !  what  unknown  delight  to  en- 
ter into  thy  immediate  presence,  most  bless- 
ed Lord  God!  to  see  thee,*  thou  King  of 
Heaven  and  Lord  of  glory,  no  longer 
«'  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  face  to  face  !" 
to  have  all  thy  goodness,  all  thy  greatness, 
shine  before  us  ;  and  be  made  glad  for  ever 
with  the  brightest  discovery  of  thy  perfec- 
tions, with  the  ineffable  joy  of  thy  counte- 
nance. 

This  we  cannot  bear,  in  our  present  im- 
perfect state.  The  effulgence  of  unveiled 
divinity  woidd  dazzle  a  mortal  sight.  Our 
feeble  faculties  would  be  overwhelmed  with 
such  a  fulness  of  superabundant  bliss  ;  and 
must  lie  oppressed  under  such  "  an  exceed- 
ing great,  eternal  weight  of  glory."  But, 
"  when  this  corruptible  hath  put  on  incor- 
ruption,"  the  powers  of  the  soul  will  be 
greatly  invigorated;  and  these  earthly  ta- 
bernacles will  be  "  transformed  into  the 
likeness  of  Christ's  glorious  body."  Then, 
though  (Isa.  xxiv.  23.)  "the  moon  shall 
be  confounded,  and  the  sun  ashamed," 
when  the  Lord  of  hosts  is  revealed  from 
heaven  ;  yet  shall  his  faithful  people  be  en- 
abled to  see  him  as  he  is  (1  John  iii.  2.) 

Here  then,  my  wishes,  here  be  fixed  :  be 
this  your  determined  and  invariable  aim  ; 
liere,  my  affections,  here  give  a  loose  to 
your  whole  ardour ;  cry  OTit  in  the  lan- 
guage of  inspiration,  This  one  thing  have  I 


desired  of  the  Lord,  which  with  incessant 
earnestness,  I  will  require,  that  I  iniiy  dwell 
in  the  celestial  house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days 
of  my  future  life,  to  behold  the  be  uity  of  the 
Lord,  (Psal.  xxvii.  4.)  and  to  contemplate 
with  \vonder  and  adoration, — with  imspeak- 
able  and  everlasting  rapture, — all  the  attri- 
butes of  the  incomprehensible  Godhead. 

Solomon,  a  most  penetrating  judge  of 
human  nature,  knowing  how  highly  man- 
kind is  charmed  with  the  fine  qualities  of 
flowers,  has  figured  out  the  blessed  Jesus, 
that  "  fairest  among  ten  thousand,"  by  these 
lovely  representatives.  He  styles  Him* 
the  rose  of  Sharon  and  the  lilly  of  the  ral- 
lies :f  like  the  first,  full  of  delights  and 
communicable  graces  ;  like  the  last,  exalted 
in  majesty,  and  complete  in  beauty.  In 
that  sacred  pastoral,  he  ranges  the  creation  ; 
borrows  its  most  finished  forms,  and  dips 
his  pencil  in  its  choicest  dyes,  to  present 
us  with  a  sketch  of  the  amiableness  of  his 
person  !  his  amiableness,  who  is  the  light 
of  the  world  ;  the  glory  of  his  church  ;  the 
only  hope,  the  sovereign  consolation  of  sin- 
ners ;  and  exalted,  infinitely  exalted,  not 
only  above  the  noblest  comparison,  but  even 
above  all  blessing  and  praise."  May  I 
also  make  the  same  heavenly  use  of  all  sub- 
limary  enjoyments  !  Whatever  is  pleasur- 
able or  charming  below,  let  it  raise  my  de- 
sire to  those  sublime  delights  which  are 
above  ;  which  will  yield,  not  jiartial,  but 
perfect  felicity ;  not  transient,  but  never- 
ending  satisfiiction  and  joy Yes,  my  soul, 

let  these  beauties  in  miniature  always  remind 
thee  of  that  glorious  person  in  whom  "  dwells 
all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily."  I^et 
these  little  emanations  teach  thee  to  thirst  af- 
ter the  eternal  fountain.  O!  may  the  crea- 
tures be  the  constant  clue  to  the  Creator  ! 
For  this  is  a  certain  truth,  and  deserves  thy 
frequent  recollection,  thy  most  attentive 
consideration,  that  the  whole  compass  of 
finite  perfection  is  only  a  faint  ray,f  shot 
from  that  immense  source,  is  only  a  small 
drop,  derived  from  that  inexhaustil)le  ocean 
of  all  good. 


vernal  delight,  as  Milton  calls  it,  into  a  Christi-in 
virtun.  When  we  find  ourselves  inspired  with  this 
•pleasing  instinct,  this  secret  satisfaction  and  compla- 
cency, arising  from  the  lx?aiitics  of  the  creation,  let 
us  consider  to  whom  we  stand  indebted  for  all  these 
entertainments  of  sense,  and  who  it  is  that  thus  opens 
his  hand,  and  fills  the  world  with  good. — Such  an 
habitual  disposition  of  mind  consecrate.s  every  field 
and  wood;  turns  an  ordinary  walk  into  a  morning  or 
evening  sacrifice;  and  will  appro\e  those  transifiit 
gleams,  which  naturally  brighten  up  and  refresh  the 
Roul  on  such  occasions,  into  an  inviolable  and  perpe- 
tual state  of  bliss  and  hajipiness." 

Spectn'nr,  vol.  v.  No.  3fi4. 
*  Isaiah  reiiresents  the  felicity  of  the  righteous,  in 
■the  everlasting  world,  by  this  elegant  aiid  amiable 
image  :  Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  his  hcauly. 
Milton  touches  the  same  subject  with  wonderful  ele- 
vation and  majesty  of  thought.  They 

walk  with  God, 

High  in  salvation  and  the  climes  of  bliss. 
Words  which,  like  the  fiery  car,  almost  transport  our 
afliittions  to.lhose  glorious  abodes.     Isa.  xxxiii.  17- 

Mi'tiin,  xix.  v.  7"7. 


*  .Song  ii   1, 

Mains  ut  arboribus  decori  est,  lit  vitibus  uvae 

Utque  rosa?  campis,  ut  lilia  vallibus  alba, 

.Sic  Christus  decus  omne  suis 

t  Hy  the  lilly  of  the  vallies,  I  apprehend,  is  meant, 
not  the  flower  which  commonly  passes  under  that  de- 
nomination, and  is  comparatively  me.an;  bi't  the 
grand,  majestic  garden  lilly  ;  growing  in  a  rich  irri- 
guous  soil,  where  it  fiourishesin  the  most  ample  man- 
ner and  arrives  at  the  higlu^st  iierfection.  The  cir- 
cumstance of  the  vallies,  added  by  the  sacred  writer, 
is  sigrdficant,  not  of  the  species,  but  of  the  place — 
This  is  hy  far  the  gnindcst  interpretation,  and  most 
exactly  suitable  to  the  spiritual  sense;  which  inti- 
mates'that  the  blessei-l  Jesus  delights  to  dwell,  by  the 
communications  of  the  Spirit,  in  humble  hearts.— 
I.illium  vallibus  guadens. 
+  Thou  sittest  above  all  heavens. 

To  us  invisible,  or  dimly  seen 

In  these  thy  lowest  worlds  ;  vet  these  declare 

Thy  goodness  bejoiid  thought,  and  power  d'vine. 


SB 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


What  a  surprising  variety  is  observable 
among  the  fioweiy  tribes  !  How  has  the 
bountiful  hand  of  Providence  diversified 
these  nicest  pieces  of  his  workmanship  ! 
and  added  the  charms  of  an  endless  novelty 
to  all  their  other  perfections  ? — Because  a 
constant  uniformity  would  soon  render  the 
entertainment  tiresome  or  insipid  ;  there- 
fore, every  species  exhibits  something  new. 
The  fashion  spreads  not  from  family  to  fa- 
mily ;  but  every  one  has  a  mode  of  its  own, 
which  is  truly  original.  The  most  cursoiy 
glance  perceives  an  apparent  difference,  as 
well  as  a  peculiar  delicacy,  in  the  airs  and 
habits,  the  attitude  and  lineaments  of  every 
distinct  class. 

Some  rear  their  heads  with  a  majestic 
mien ;  and  oveilook,  like  sovereigns  or  no- 
bles, the  whole  parterre.  Others  seem 
more  moderate  in  their  aims,  and  advance 
oidy  to  the  middle  stations  ;  a  genius  turn- 
ed for  heraldry  might  term  them  the  gentry 
of  the  border.  While  others,  free  from  all 
aspiring  views,  creep  unambitiously  on  the 
ground,  and  look  like  the  commonalty  of  the 

kind Some  are  intersected  \vith  elegant 

stripes,  or  studded  with  radiant  spots.  Some 
affect  to  be  genteelly  powdered,  or  neatly 
fringed ;  while  others  are  plain  in  their  as- 
spect,  unaffected  in  their  dress,  and  content  to 
please  with  a  naked  simplicity.  Some  assume 
a  monarch's  purple  ;  some  look  most  becom- 
ing in  the  virgin's  white  ;  but  black,  dole- 
ful black,  has  no  admittance  into  the  ward- 
robe of  spring.  The  weeds  of  mourning 
would  be  a  manifest  indecorum,  when  na 
ture  holds  an  universal  festival.  She  would 
now  inspire  none  but  delightful  ideas,  and 
therefore  always  makes  her  appearance  in 
some  amiable  suit.*  Here  stands  a  war- 
i-ior  clad  with  crimson ;  there  sits  a  ma- 
gistrate, robed  in  scarlet ;  and  yonder  struts 
a  pretty  fellow,  that  seems  to  have  dipped 
his  plums  in  the  rainbow,  and  glitters  in  all 
the  gay  colours  of  that  resplendent  arch. 
Some  rise  into  a  curious  cup,  or  fall  into  a 
set  of  beautiful  bells  ;  some  spread  them- 
selves in  a  swelling  tuft,  or  crowd  into  a 
delicious  cluster. — In  some,  the  predomi- 
nant stain  softens  by  the  gentlest  diminu- 
tions, till  it  has  even  stole  away  from  itself. 
The  eye  is  amused  at  the  agreeable  delu- 
sion :  and  we  wonder  to  find  oiuselves  insen- 
sibly decoyed  into  quite  a  different  lustre, 
lii  others,  you  would  think,  the  fine  tinges 
were  emulous  of  pre-eminence  :  disdaining 
to  mingle,  they  confront  one  another  with 
the  resolution  of  rivals,  determbied  to  dis- 
pute the  prize  of  beauty ;  while  each  is  im- 
proved, by  the  opposition,  into  the  highest 
vivacity  of  complexion. 

How   manifold  are  thy  works,  O  Lord  ! 


(Psal.  civ.  24.)  Midtiplied,  even  to  prodi- 
gy.    Yet  in  wisdom,  consummate  wisddm, 
hast  thou  made   them  all. — How  I  admire 
the  vastness  of  the    contrivance,  and    the 
exactness  of  the  execution !     Man,  feeble 
man,  with   difficulty  accomplishes  a  single 
work  ;  hardly,  and  after  many  efforts,  does 
he  arrive  at  a  tolerable  imitation  of  some 
one  production  of  nature.     But  the  Al- 
mighty Artist  spoke  millions  of  substances 
into  instantaneous  being,  the  whole  collec- 
tion wonderfully  various,  and  each  indivi- 
dual perfectly  complete, — Repeated  experi- 
ments generally,  I  might  say  always,  disco- 
ver errors  or  defects  in  our  happiest  inven- 
tions :   nay,  what  wins  our  approbation  at 
the  present  hoiur  or  in  this  particular  place,  is 
very  probably,  in  some  remote  period,  or 
some  distant  clime,  treated  \vith  contempt. 
Whereas  these  fine  structures  have  pleased 
every  taste,  in  every  country,  for  almost  six 
thousand  years.     Nor  has  any  fault*  been 
detected  in  the  original  plan,  nor  any  room 
left  for  the  least  improvement  upon  the  first 
model.      All  our   performances,  the  more 
minutely  they  are  scanned,  the  more  imper- 
fect they  appear.      "With  rcgai-d  to  these  de- 
licate  objects,    the    more    we    search   into 
their  properties,  the   more  we  are  ravished 
with  their  graces  ;  they  are  sure  to  disclose 
fresh  strokes  of  the  most  masterly  skill,  in 
proportion  to  the  attention  with  which  they 
are  examined. 

Nor  is  the  simplicity  of  the  operation  less 
astonishing  than  the  accuracy  of  the  work- 
manship, or  the  infinitude  of  the  effects. 
Should  you  ask,  "  Where,  and  what  are 
the  materials  that  beautify  the  blooming 
world  ?  What  rich  tints  ;  what  splendid 
dyes  ;  what  stores  of  shining  crayons,  stand 
by  the  heavenly  limner,  when  he  paints 
the  robe  of  nature  ?"  It  is  answered,  his 
powerfid  pencil  needs  no  such  costly  appar- 
atus. A  single  principle,  under  his  con- 
ducting hand,  branches  out  into  an  immen- 
sity of  the  most  viu'ied  and  most  finished 
forms.  The  moisture  of  the  earth,  and  of 
the  circumanbient  air,  passed  through  pro- 
per strainers,  and  disposed  in  a  range  of  pel- 
lucid tubes  ;  this  performs  all  the  wonders, 
and  produces  all  the  beauties  of  vegetation. 
This  creeps  along  the  fibres  of  the  low 
spread  moss,  and  climbs  to  the  very  tops  of 
the  lofty  waving  cedars.  This,  atti'acted  by 
the  root,  and  circidating  through  invisible 
canals,  this  bursts  into  gems,  expands  itself 
into  leaves,  and  clothes  the  forest  with  all 
its  verdant  honours — This  onef  plain  and 
simple  cause,  gives  birth  to  all  the  charms 


•  Nune  formosissi  muannus  —  f^o 


*  Eccl.  iii.  14.  I  know  that  whatsoever  God  doth, 
it  shall  be  for  ever ;  nothing  can  be  put  to  it,  nor  any 
thing  taken  from  it. 

t  "  When  every  several  effect  has  a  particular  se- 
parate cause,  this  gives  no  pleasure  to  the  speciaLor, 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


39 


wliicb  deck  the  youth  and  miitiirity  of  the 
year.  This  blushes  in  the  early  hepatica, 
and  flames  in  the  late  advancing  poppy. 
This  reddens  into  blood  in  the  veins  of  the 
mulberry  ;  and  attenuates  itself  into  leafen 
gold,  to  create  a  covering  for  the  quince. 
This  breathes  in  all  the  fragrant  gales  of 
our  garden,  and  weeps  odorous  guin  in  the 
groves  of  Arabia — So  wonderful  is  our 
Creator  in  counsel,  and  so  excellent  in 
working.   (Isa.  xxviii.  "29.) 

In  a  grove  of  tulips,  or  a  knot  of  pinks, 
one  perceives  a  difference  in  almost  every 
individual.  Scarce  any  two  are  turned  and 
tinctured  exactly  alike  ;  each  allows  him- 
self a  little  peculiarity  in  his  di'ess,  though 
all  belong  to  one  family ;  so  that  they  are 
various,  and  yet  the  same A  pretty  em- 
blem this  of  the  smaller  differences  between 
protcstajit  Christians.  There  are  modes  in 
religion,  which  admit  of  variation,  without 
prejudice  to  sound  faith,  or  real  holiness  : 
just  as  tlie  drapery,  on  these  pictures  of  the 
spring,  may  be  formed  after  a  variety  of 
patterns  without  blemishing  their  beauty, 
or  altering  their  nature.  Be  it  so  then, 
that  in  some  points  of  inconsiderable  conse- 
quence, several  of  our  brethren  dissent  ; 
)'et  let  us  all  live  amicably  and  sociably  to- 
gether, for  we  harmonize  in  principles, 
though  we  vary  in  punctilios.  Let  us  join 
in  conversation,  and  intermijigle  interests  ; 
discover  no  estrangement  of  behaviour,  and 
cherish  no  alienation  of  aiTection.  If  any 
strife  subsist,  let  it  be  to  follow  our  di'/ine 
IVIaster  most  closely,  in  humility  of  heart, 
and  unblajneableness  of  life  ;  let  it  be  to 
serve  one  another,  most  readily,  in  all  the 
kind  offices  of  a  cordial  friendship.  Thus 
shaM  we  be  united,  though  distinguished  ; 
uziited  in  the  same  grand  fundamentals, 
though  distingiushed  by  some  small  circum- 
stantials ;  united  in  one  important  bond  of 
brotherly  love,  though  distinguished  by  some 
slighter  peculiarities  of  sentiment. 

Between  Christians,  whose  judgments  dis- 
agree oidy  about  a  form  of  prayer,  or  man- 
ner of  worship,  I  apprehend  there  is  no 
more  essential  difference  than  between 
liowers  which  bloom  from  the  same  kind  of 
seed,  but  happen  to  be  somewhat  diversified 

ill  the  mixture  of  their  colours Whereas, 

if  one  denies  the  divinity  of  our  Lord  Je- 
sus (jhrist,  and  degrades  the  incarnate  God 
to  ihe  meanness  of  a  mere  creature  ;  if 
another  cries  up  the  worthiness  of  human 
works,  and  depreciates  the  alone  meritor- 
ious righteousness  of  the  glorious  Media- 
tiji  ;  if  a  third  addresses  the  incomnumica- 


as  not  discovering  contrivance.  But  that  work  is  be- 
held with  admiration  and  deliglit,  as  the  result  of 
deep  counsel,  which  is  complicated  in  its  parts,  and 
yet  simple  ia  its  operations,  where  a  firent  variety  of 
eiieits  are  seen  to  arise  iroin  one  principle  opeialing 
uwiib;inly.  '—Alieiitetliy  uu  the  Atti  ibtites. 


ble  honours  to  a  finite  being,  and  bows  to 

the  image,  or  prays  to  the  saint ; these  are 

errors  extremely  derogatory  to  the  Redeem- 
er's dignity,  and  not  a  little  prejudicial  to 
the  comfort  of  his  people  ;  against  these  to 
remonstrate,  against  these  to  urge  every 
argument,  and  use  every  dissuasive,  be- 
speaks not  the  censorious  bigot,  but  the 
friend  of  truth,  and  the  lover  of  man- 
kind.— Whereas  to  stand  neuter  and  silent, 
while  such  principles  fire  proj)agated,  would 
be  an  instance  of  criminal  remissness,  ra- 
ther than  of  Christian  moderation. — For 
the  persons,  we  will  not  fail  to  maintain  a 
tender  compassion  ;  we  will  not  cease  to 
put  up  eai-nest  intercessions  :  we  will  also 
acknowledge  and  love  whatever  is  excellent 
and  amiable  in  their  character.  Yet  we 
dare  not  subscribe  their  creed  ;  we  must 
not  secrete  our  strong  reasons  ;  we  cannot 
remit  our  assiduous  but  kind  endeavoiu-s,  if 
by  any  means  we  may  reconcile  them  to  a 
more  scriptural  belief,  and  a  pm"er  wor- 
shii).  * 

Another  remarkable  circumstance,  re- 
commending the  Ifowery  creation  is  their  re- 
gular succession.  They  make  not  their 
appearance  all  at  once,  but  in  aii  orderly  ro- 
tation. While  a  proper  number  of  these 
obliging  retainers  are  in  waiting,  the  others 
abscond,  but  hold  themselves  in  a  posture 
of  service,  ready  to  take  their  turn,  and  fill 
each  his  respective  station,  the  instant  it 
becomes  vacant — The  snow-drop,  foremost 
of  the  lovely  train,  breaks  her  way  through 
the  frozen  soil,  in  oider  to  present  her  early 
comjjliments  to  her  Lord  ;  dressed  in  the 
robe  of  innocency  she  steps  forth,  fearless 
of  danger  ;  long  before  the  trees  have  ven- 
tured to  unfold  their  leaves,  even  while  the 

icicles  are  pendant  on  our  houses Next, 

peeps  out  the  crocus,  but  cautiously,  and 
with  an  air  of  timidity.  She  hears  the 
howling  blasts,  and  skulks  close  to  her  low 
situation.  Afnud  she  seems  to  make  large 
excursions  from  her  root,  while  so  many 
ruffian  winds  are  abroad  and  scouring  along 
the  ether — Nor  is  the  violent  blast,  in 
this  shining  embassy  of  the  yeiir  ;  which, 
with  all  the  embellishments  that  would 
grace  a  royal  garden,  condescends  to  line 
our  hedges,  and  grow  at  the  feet  of  briers. 
Freely  and  without  any  solicitation,  she 
distributes  the  bounty  of  her  emissive  sweeta; 
while  herself,  with  an  exemplary  humility, 


»  In  sonv?  former  editions,  I  expressed  myself,  on 
this  i)oint  unwarily  and  harshly.  Hut  my  meaning, 
and  real  sentiments,  were  no  other  than  those  repre- 
senteil  above.— The  reader,  from  such  unguarded  in- 
timations, mi!,'ht  too  naturally  be  led  to  conclude, 
that  the  author  avows,  and  would  stir  up,  a  spirit  of 
persecution.  Hut  this  is  a  method  of  dealinir  with 
opi)o:ients  in  religious  doctrines,  wiiich  he  disclaims 
as  absurd,  and  abhors  as  iniquitous.  He  is  for  no 
force,  but  that  of  rational  conviction,  for  no  con- 
straint but  that  of  afTtctionate  persuasion.  Thus,  if 
you  plca*e,  compel  them  to  come  ia.    Luke  xiv.  23. 


40 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


retires  from  sight,  seeking  rather  to  admin- 
ister pleasure  than  to  win  admiration.* 
Emblem,  expressive  emblem,  of  those  mo- 
dest virtues  which  delight  to  bloom  in  ob- 
scurity, which  extend  a  cheering  influence 
to  multitudes,  who  are  scarce  acquainted 
with  the  source  of  their  comforts  !  Motive, 
engaging  motive,  to  that  ever-active  bene- 
ficence, which  stays  not  for  the  importunity 
of  the  distressed,  but  anticipates  their  suit, 
and  prevents  them  with  the  blessings  of  its 
goodness  ! — The  poor  polyanthus,  that  late- 
ly adorned  the  border  -with  her  sparkling 
beauties,  and  transplanted  into  our  windows, 
gave  us  a  fiesh  entertainment,  is  now  no 
more.  I  saw  her  complexion  fade  ;  I  per- 
ceived her  breath  decay,  till  at  length  she 
expired,  and  dropt  into  her  grave.  Scarce 
have  we  sustained  this  loss,  but  in  comes  the 
auricula,  and  more  than  retrieves  it ;  array- 
ed she  comes  in  a  splendid  variety  of  amia- 
ble forms  !  with  an  eye  of  crystal,  and 
garments  of  the  most  glossy  satin;  exhal- 
ing perfume,  and  powdered  ^^^th  silver. 
A  very  distinguished  procession  this  !  the 
favourite  care  of  the  florist !  Scarce  one 
among  them  but  is  dignified  with  a  charac- 
ter of  renown,  or  has  the  honour  to  repre- 
sent some  celebrated  toast.  But  these  also, 
notwithstanding  their  illustrious  titles,  have 
exhausted  their  whole  stock  of  fragrance, 
and  are  mingled  with  the  meanest  dust. 
— Who  could  forbear  grieving  at  their  de- 
parture, did  not  the  tulips  begin  to  raise 
themselves  on  their  fine  wands,  or  stately 
stalks  ?  They  flush  the  parterre  with  one  of 
the  gayest  dresses  that  blooming  nature 
wears.  Did  ever  beau  or  belle  make  so 
gaudy  an  appearance,  in  a  birth-night  suit. 
Here  one  may  behold  the  innocent  wanton- 
ness of  beauty  !  here  she  indulges  a  thou- 
sand freaks,  and  sports  herself  in  the  most 
charming  diversity  of  colours ;  yet  I  should 
wrong  her,  were  I  to  call  her  a  coquet,  be- 
cause she  plays  her  lovely  changes,  not  to 
fnkindle  dissolute  affections,  but  to  display 
her  Creator's  glory.  Soon  arises  the  ane- 
mone, encircled  at  the  bottom  Math  a  spread- 
ing robe,  and  rounded  at  the  top  into  a 
beautiful  dome.  In  its  loosely-flowing 
mantle,  you  may  observe  a  noble  negligence  ; 
in  its  gently  bending  tufts,  the  nicest  sym- 
metry. I  woxdd  term  it  the  fine  gentleman 
of  the  garden;  because  it  seems  to  have 
learned  the  singular  address  of  uniting  sim- 
plicity with  refinement,  of  reconciling  art 
with  ease.  The  same  month  has  the  me- 
rit of  producing  the  ranunculus  :  AU  bold 
and  graceful,  it  expands  the  riches  of  its 
foliage  ;  and  acquires  by  degrees  the  loveli- 
est enamel  in  the  world.  As  persons  of  in- 
trinsic worth  disdain  the  superficial  arts  of 
recommendation  practised  by  fops ;  so  this 


Prodesse  quam  conspici. 


lordly  flower  scorns  to  borrow  any  of  its 
excellence  from  powders  and  essences.  It 
needs  no  such  attractives  to  render  it  the 
darling  of  the  curious,  being  sufficiently  en- 
gaging, from  the  elegarice  of  its  figure,  the 
radiant  variety  of  its  tinges,  and  a  certain 
superior  dignity  of  aspect.  Methinks  na- 
ture improves  in  her  operations  :  her  latest 
strokes  are  most  masterly.  To  crown  the 
collection,  she  introduces  the  carnation, 
which  captivates  every  eye  with  a  noble 
spread  of  graces,  and  charms  another  sense 
with  a  profusion  of  exquisite  odours.  This 
single  flower  has  centered  in  itself  the  per- 
fections of  all  the  preceding  ;  the  moment 
it  appears,  it  so  commands  our  attention, 
that  we  scarce  regret  the  absence  of  the 
rest.  The  gilly-flower,  like  a  real  friend, 
attends  you  through  all  the  vicissitudes  and 
alterations  of  the  season.  While  others 
make  a  transient  visit  only,  this  is  rather  an 
inhabitant  than  a  guest  in  our  gardens  ;  adds 
fidelity  to  complaisance. 

It  is  in  vain  to  attempt  a  catalogue  of 
these  amiable  gifts  :  there  is  an  endless 
multiplicity  in  th.eir  characters,  yet  an  inva- 
riable order  in  their  approaches.  Every 
month,  almost  every  week,  has  its  peculiar 
ornaments  ;  not  servilely  copying  the  works 
of  its  predecessor,  but  forming,  still  form- 
ing, and  still  executing  some  new  design. 
So  lavish  is  the  fancy,  yet  so  exact  is  the 
process  of  nature. 

Here  let  me  stand  a  while,  to  contem- 
plate this  distribution  of  flowers,  through 

the  several  periods  of  the  year Were  they 

all  to  blossom  together,  there  would  be  at 
once  a  promiscuous  throng,  and  at  once  a 
total  privation  ;  we  should  scarce  have  an 
opportunity  of  adverting  to  the  dainty  qua- 
lities of  half,  and  must  soon  lose  the  agree- 
able company  of  them  all.  But  now,  since 
every  species  has  a  separate  post  to  occupy, 
and  a  distinct  interval  for  appearing,  we 
can  take  a  leisurely  and  minute  survey  of 
each  succeeding  set.  We  can  view  and  re- 
view their  forms ;  enter  into  a  more  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  their  charming 
accomplishments,  and  receive  all  those  pleas- 
ing services  which  they  are  commissioned 
to  yield This  remarkable  piece  of  eco- 
nomy is  productive  of  another  very  valuable 
effect.  It  not  only  places  in  the  most  ad- 
vantageous light  every  particular  communi- 
ty, but  is  also  a  sure  provisionary  resource 
against  the  frailty  of  the  whole  nation  ;  or, 
to  speak  more  truly,  it  renders  the  flowery 
tribes  a  sort  of  immortal  corps,*  whose  suc- 
cessionary  attendance   never  fails.      For, 


»  !n  allusion  to  the  celebrated  practice  of  the  Per- 
sian kings,  "who  maintained  for  their  life-guard  a 
body  of  troops  called  Immortal ;  because  it  perpetu- 
ally subsisted;  for  as  soon  as  any  of  the  men  died, 
another  was  immediately  put  into  his  place." 

linllin's  Atic-ieiit  Hist,  vol.il.. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


41 


though  some  are  continually  dropping,  yet 
by  this  expedient,  others  are  as  continually 
j'ising,  to  beautify  our  borders,  and  prolong 
the  entertainment. 

What  goodness  is  this,  to  provide  such  a 
series  of  gratifications  for  mankind  !  both  to 
diversify,  and  perpetuate  the  fine  collation ; 
to  take  care,  that  our  paths  should  be  in  a 

manner  incessantly  strewed  with  flowers 

And  what  wisdom  to  bid  every  one  of  these 
insensible  beings  know  the  precise  junctiu-e 
of  their  coming  forth  !  insomuch  that  no 
actor  on  a  stage  can  be  more  exact  in  per- 
forming his  part ;  can  make  a  more  regidar 
entry,  or  a  more  punctual  exit. 

Who  emboldens  the  dafl^odil  to  venture 
abroad  in  P'ebruary,  and  to  trust  her  flow- 
ery gold  with  inclement  and  treacherous 
skies  ?  Who  informs  the  various  tribes  of 
fruit-bearing  blossoms,  that  vernal  suns  and 
a  more  genial  warmth,  are  fittest  for  their 
delicate  texture  ?  Who  teaches  the  clove  to 
stay,  till  hotter  beams  are  prepared,  to  in- 
fuse a  spicy  richness  into  her  odours,  and 
tincture  her  complexion  with  the  deepest 
crimson  ? — Who  disposes  these  beautifid 
troops  into  such  orderly  bodies,  retarding 
some  and  accelerating  others  ?  Who  has  in- 
structed them  to  file  off,  with  such  perfect 
regularity,  as  soon  as  the  duty  of  their  re- 
spective station  is  over  ?  And  when  one 
detachment  retires,  who  gives  the  signal  for 
another  immediately  to  advance  ?  Who  but 
that  unerring  Providence,  wliich  from  the 
highest  thrones  of  angels,  to  the  veiy  lowest 
degrees  of  existence,  orders  all  things  in 
"  number,  weight,  and  measure  !" 

These,  O  my  soul,  are  the  regulations  of 
that  most  adorable,  that  most  beneficent 
Being,  who  bowed  the  heavens,  came  down 
to  dwell  on  earth,  and  imited  the  frailty  of 
thy  mortal  nature,  to  all  the  glories  of  his 
Godhead.  All  the  honour  of  this  admira- 
ble establishment  belongs  to  thy  Ransom, 
thy  Surety,  thy  Saviour.  To  Him  it  be- 
longs, who  sustained  the  vengeance  which 
thou  hadst  deserved,  and  wast  doomed  to 
sufltr  :  who  fulfilled  the  obedience,  which 
thou  wast  obliged,  but  unable  to  perform, 
and  ivho  humbled  himself  (stupendous,  in- 
efl^able,  loving-kindness  !)  humbled  himself 

to  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross He 

formed  this  vast  machine,  and  adjusted  its 
nice  dependencies.  The  pillars,  that  sup- 
port it,  the  embellishments  tlwt  adorn  it, 
and  the  laws  that  govern  it,  are  the  i-esult 
of  his  unsearchable  counsels.  Oh  !  the 
heights  of  his  majesty,  and  the  depths  of 
his  abasement  ! 

Which  shall  we  admire  most,  his  essen- 
tial greatness,  or  his  free  grace  ?  He  creat- 
ed the  exalted  seraph,  that  sings  in  glory  ; 
and  every  the  minutest  insect,  that  flutters 
in  air,  or  crawls  in  dust.  He  marks  out  a 
path  for  all  those  globes  of  light,  which  tra- 


vel the  circuit  of  the  skies  ;  and  disdains 
not  to  rear  the  violet  from  its  lowly  bed,  or 
to  plait  the  daisy  which  dresses  our  plains. 
So  grand  are  his  operations,  yet  so  condes- 
cending his  regards  ! — If  summer,  like  a 
sparkling  bride,  is  brilliant  and  glorious  in 
her  ajjparel  (what  is  this  but  a  feeble  reflec- 
tion of  his  uncreated  efl^ulgence  ?  If  autumn, 
like  a  munificent  host,  opens  her  stores,  and 
gives  us  all  things  richly  to  enjoy  ;  what  is 
this,  but  a  little  taste  of  his  inexhaustible 
liberality  ?  If  thunders  roar,  you  hear  the 
sound  of  his  trumpet  ;  if  lightnings  glare, 
you  see  the  launching  of  his  glittering 
spear  ;  if  "  the  perpetual  hiUs  be  scattered 
and  the  everlasthig  mountains  bowed,"  you 
behold  a  display — No  says  the  prophet, 
you  have  rather  the  hiding  of  his  power.  • 
So  immense  is  his  power,  so  uncontrolla- 
ble, and  inconceivable,  that  all  these  mighty 
works  ai'e  but  a  sketch,  in  which  more  is 
concealed  than  discovered. 

Thus,  I  think,  we  should  always  view  the 
visible  system  with  an  evangelical  telescope, 
(if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression)  and 
with  an  evangelical  microscope  ;  regarding 
Chi'ist  Jesus  as  the  great  projector  and  ar- 
chitect, who  planned,  and  executed  the 
amazing  scheme.  Whatever  is  magnificent 
or  valuable,  tremendous  or  amiable,  should 
ever  be  ascribed  to  the  Redeemer.  This  is 
the  C'hristian's  natund  philosophy.  With 
regard  to  this  method  of  considering  the 
things  that  are  seen,  we  have  an  inspired 
apostle  for  our  preceptor  and  precedent. 
Speaking  of  t'hrist,  he  says,  "  Thou  Lord, 
in  the  beginning  hast  laid  the  foundation  of 


*  Hab.  iii.  4.  Nothing  can  be  more  magnificently 
conceived,  than  the  imagery  of  this  whole  chapter  : 
and  upon  the  foot  of  oiir  interpretation,  nothing  was 
evc-r  more  delicately  and  nobly  turned,  than  the  sen- 
timent of  this  clause.  Other  senses  of  the  passage,  I 
acknowledge,  may  be  assigned  with  equal  propriety  : 
But  none,  1  think,  can  be  imagined  so  majestic  and 
sublime.  As  the  original  will  fairly  admit  of  it  ;  as 
it  can  its  no  disagreement  with  the  cxmtext ;  and  ex- 
presses a  most  important,  as  well  as  undoubted  truth ; 
1  hope  I  may  be  permitted  to  use  it  at  least  by  way 
of  accommodation. — Especially,  as  it  suggests  one  of 
the  finest  mottos  imaginable,  wherewith  to  inscribe 
all  the  visible  i)roductions  of  the  Creator's  hand.— 
When  struck  with  astonishment  we  consider  their 
grandeur,  beauty,  and  consmmnate  perfections ;  let 
us,  in  justice  to  their  Author,  apply  the  exalted  re- 
flection of  this  sacred  ode ;  "  In  all  these  is  the  hiding 
lather  than  an  adequate  display  of  his  matchless 
power.  Though  they  challenge  our  praise,  and  sur- 
pass our  comprehension  ;  yet  are  they  by  no  means 
the  utmost  exertions,  but  rather  some  slighter  essays 
of  omnipotent  skill." — Milton,  relating  the  overthrow 
of  the  fallen  angels,  introduces  a  grand  circumstance, 
not  nmch  unlike  the  preceding.  Messiah,  unaided 
and  alone,  had  utterly  routed  an  innumerable  host  of 
apostate  spirits.  This  was  great  and  marvellous. 
But  to  create  ajuster  idea  of  the  illustrious  conquer- 
or, our  poet  beautifully  adds, 

Yet  half  his  strength  he  put  not  forth  ! 

If  we  forget  to  make  the  same  remark,  when  we  con- 
template God  in  his  works,  we  must  necessarily  form 
very  scanty  conceptions  of  that  .Supreme  Being  before 
whom  all  nations  areas  a  "  drop  of  a  bucket,  and  are 
accounted  as  the  small  dust  of  the  balauce." 


42 


REFLECTIONS  ON   A   FLOWER-GARDEN. 


the  eartli ;  and  the  heavens  are  the  A\oik  of 
thy  hands." — Did  we  carefully  attend  to 
this  leading  principle,  in  all  our  examina- 
tions of  nature,  it  would  doubtless  be  a  most 
powerful  means  of  enkindling  our  love  and 
strengthening  our  faith.*  For  when  I 
look  round  upon  millions  of  noble  sub- 
stances, and  carry  with  me  this  transport- 
ing reflection,  "  The  Maker  of  them  all 
expired  on  a  cross  for  me  ;"  how  can  I  re- 
main any  longer  indifferent  ?  Must  not  the 
coldest  hciU't  begin  to  glow  with  gratitude  ? 
When  I  survey  an  immensity  of  the  fin- 
est productions  imagi:iable  ;  and  remember 
that  the  Author  of  them  all  is  "  my  right- 
eousness, and  my  redemption  ;"  how  can  I 
choose  but  repose  the  most  cheerful  confi- 
dence in  such  a  Mediator? 

Let  me  add  one  more  remark  upon  the 
admirable  adjustment  of  every  particular, 
relating  to  these  fine  colonies  planted  in  the 
parterre. — With  such  accuracy  and  correct- 
ness is  their  structure  finished,  that  any  the 
least  conceivable  alteration  would  very  much 
impair  their  perfection.  Should  you  see, 
for  instance,  the  nice  disposition  of  the  tu- 
lip's attire  fly  abroad,  disorderly  and  irregu- 
lar, like  the  flaunting  woodbine  ;  should  the 
jessamine  rear  her  diminutive  head,  on 
those  gi-and  columns  which  support  the 
hollyhock  ;  should  the  erect  and  manly  as- 
pect of  the  piony  hang  down  with  a  pensive 
air  like  the  flexile  bells  of  the  hyacinth  ; 
should  that  noble  plainness  which  distin- 
guishes the  lily,  be  exchanged  for  the  glit- 
tering fringes  which  edge  the  pink,  or  the 
gaudy  stains  which  bedrop  the  iris  ;  should 


*  The  apostles,  I  observe,  delight  to  use  this  me- 
thod of  displaving  the  honours  of  the  Redeemer,  and 
establishing  the  faith  of  his  people.— The  beloved 
disciple,  teaching  that  most  precious  doctrine,  "  of  a 
Lamb  slam  to  take  away  the  sins  of  ihe  world,"  in 
order  to  evince  the  sufficiency  of  Christ's  sacrifice  for 
this  blessed  purpose,  affirms,  that  all  things  were  made 
by  him,  and  without  him  was  not  any  thing,  no,  not 
so  much  as  one  single  being  made,  John  i.  3. — St. 
Pa\il,  preaching  the  same  glad  tidings  to  the  Colos- 
sians,  and  expressly  maintaining  that  we  have  Re- 
demption through  his  blood  ;  seems  to  foresee  an  ob- 
jection of  this  kind ;  "  To  expiate  transgressions 
against  an  infinite  Majesty,  is  a  most  prodigious  act ; 
it  must  cost  vastly  more  than  any  common  surety  can 
pay,  to  redeem  a  sinful  Vorld.  What  reason  have  we 
to  believe  that  Jesus  is  equal  to  this  mighty  under- 
taking ?"  All  possible  reason,  replies  the  apostle, 
from  tlie  dignity  of  his  person,  for  he  is  the  image  of 
theinvisible  God,  and  from  thegreatnessof  his  works, 
for  by  him  all  things  were  made.  Consider  the  oper- 
ations of  his  hands,  and  you  cannot  doubt  the  atoning 
efficacy  of  his  death.  Col.  i.  15,  IC— The  author  of 
the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews  falls  exactly  into  the  same 
train  of  arguing ;  declaring  that  Christ  Jesus  has 
purged  our  sins  by  the  sacrifice  of  himself ;  he  proves 
nis  ample  ability  for  this  tremendous  office  from  his 
essential  excellence,  because  he  is  the  brightness  of 
his  P'ather's  glory)  and  from  his  admirable  works,  be- 
cause he  made  the  worlds,  and  upholdeth  all  things  by 
the  word  of  Iiis  power,  Heb.  i.  2,  X — Which  truth, 
as  it  is  so  important  in  itself,  of  such  signal  comfort 
to  Christians,  and  so  jKUticularly  insisted  on  by  the 
inspired  writers,  I  liope  I  shall  need  no  a)iol<)gy  for 
an  attempt  to  illustrate  and  enforce  it,  in  a  kind  of 
evangelical  descant  upon  Creation,  annexed  to  these 
Reflections. 


those  tapering  pillars  which  arise  in  the 
middle  of  its  vase,  and  tipt  with  golden 
pendants,  give  such  a  lustre  to  the  sur- 
rounding pannels  of  alabaster, — should  those 
sink  and  disappear,  like  the  chives  which 
cover  the  heart  of  the  anemone  : — In  many 
of  these  cases,  would  not  the  transposition 
be  fantastical  and  awkward,  in  all  to  the  ap- 
parent prejudice  of  every  individual. 

Again,  with  regard  to  the  time  of  their 
appearing,  this  circumstance  is  settled  by  a 
remarkable  foresight  and  precaution.  What 
would  become  of  the  sailor,  if,  in  very 
stormy  v>-eather,  he  should  raise  a  lofty  mast, 
and  crowd  it  with  all  his  canvas  ?  Such 
would  be  the  ill  effect,  if  the  most  stately 
species  of  flowers  should  presume  to  come 
abroad  in  the  blustenng  months.  Ah  ! 
hovv'  would  they  rue  the  inij)rudent  bold- 
ness !  Therefore,  those  only  that  shoot  the 
shortest  stems,  and  display  the  smallest 
spread  of  leaves,  or,  if  you  please,  carry  the 
least  sail,  al'e  launched  amidst  the  blowing 
seasons.  How  injudiciously  would  the 
perfumer  act,  if  he  shoifld  unseal  his  finest 
essences,  and  expose  them  to  the  northern 
winds,  oi-  wintery  rains !  Our  blooming 
artists  of  the  aromatic  profession,  at  least 
the  most  delicate  among  them,  seem  perfect- 
ly aware  of  the  consequences  of  such  a  pro- 
cediu'e.  Accordingly,  they  postpone  the 
opening  of  their  odoriferous  treasures  till  a 
serener  air,  and  more  unclouded  skies,* 
grant  a  protection  to  their  amiable  traffic, 
till  they  are  under  no  more  apprehensions 
of  having  their  spicy  cells  rifled  by  rude 
blasts,  or  drowned  in  incessant  showers. 

What  a  striking  argument  is  here  for 
resignation,  unfeigned  resignation,  to  all 
the  disposals  of  Providence !  Too  often 
are  our  dissatisfied  thoughts  apt  to  find 
fault  with  divine  dispensations.  We  ta- 
citly arraign  our  Maker's  conduct,  or  ques- 
tion his  kindness  with  regard  to  ourselves  ; 
we  fancy  our  lot  not  so  commodiously  situ- 
ated, or  our  condition  not  so  happily  cir- 


*  Casimir,  in  a  very  poetical  manner,  addresses 
himself  to  the  dormant  rose,  and  most  prettily  invites 
her  to  venture  abroad,  by  the  mention  of  these  two 
circumstances. 

Siderum  sacros  imitata  vultus. 

Quid  latos  dudum,  Rosa  ?  Delicatum 

Effere  tersis  caput,  O  tepentis  Filia  coeli. 

Jam  tibi  nubes  fugiunt  aquosse, 

Quas  fugant  albis  Zephyri,  quadrigis; 

Jam  tibi  mulcet  Boream  jocantis.    Aura  Favoiii. 

Child  of  the  summer  !  charming  rose ! 

No  longer  in  confinement  lie ; 
Arise  to  light,  thy  form  disclose. 

Rival  the  spangles  of  the  sky. 
The  rains  are  gone,  the  storms  are  o'er  ; 

Winter  retires  to  make  thee  way ; 
Come  then,  thou  sweetly  blushing  Uow'r; 

Come,  lovely  stranger,  come  away. 
The  sun  is  dress'd  in  beaming  smiles, 

To  give  thy  beauties  to  the  day  ; 
Voung  zephyrs  wait  with  gentlest  galet, 

To  fan  thy  bosom  as  they  play. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A   FLOWER-GARDEN. 


43 


cumstanced  as  if  we  had  been  placed  in 
some  other  station  of  life. — But  let  us  be- 
hold this  exquisitely  nice  regulation  of  the 
minutest  plants,  and  be  ashamed  of  our  re- 
pining folly.  Could  any  fibre  in  their  com- 
position be  altered,  or  one  line  in  their  fea- 
tures be  transposed,  without  clouding  some 
of  their  beauties  ?  Coidd  any  fold  in  their 
Vestments  be  varied,  or  any  link  in  their  or- 
derly succession,  be  broken  without  injuring 
some  delicate  property  ?  And  does  not  that 
all-seeing  eye,  which  preserves  so  exact  a  har- 
mony among  these  pretty  toys,  maintain  as 
watchfid  a  care  over  his  rational  creatures  ? 
Does  he  choose  the  properest  season  for  the 
cowslip  to  arise,  and  drink  the  dews  ?  And 
can  he  neglect  the  concerns,  or  misjudge 
the  conveniencies  of  his  sons  and  daugh- 
ters ?  He,  who  has  so  completely  disposed 
whatever  pertains  to  the  vegetable  econo- 
my, that  the  least  diminution  or  addition 
would  certainly  hurt  the  finished  scheme, 
does,  without  all  peradventure,  preside,  with 
equal  attention,  over  the  interests  of  his  onii 
pco])le. 

Be  still  then,  thou  uneasy  mortal,*  know 
that  God  is  unerringly  wise  ;  and  be  assur- 
ed, that  amidst  the  great  multiplicity  of  be- 
ings, he  does  not  overlook  thee.  Thy  Sa- 
viour has  given  me  authority  to  assert,  that 
thou  art  of  far  superior  value  in  the  es- 
timation of  omnipocence  than  all  the  her- 
bage of  the  field.  If  his  sacred  will  or- 
dains sickness  for  thy  portion,  never  dare 
to  imagine,  that  uninterrupted  health  would 
be  more  advantageous.  If  he  pleases  to 
withhold,  or  take  away  children,  never  pre- 
sume to  conclude,  that  thy  happiness  is 
blasted,  because  thy  hopes  of  an  increasing 
family  are  disappointed.  He  that  marshals 
all  the  starry  host,  and  so  accurately  arranges 
every  the  meanest  species  of  herbs  ;  He  or- 
ders all  the  peculiarities,  all  the  clianges  of 
thy  state,  with  a  vigilance  that  nothing  can 
elude,  with  a  goodness  that  endureth  for 
ever.  Bow  thy  head,  therefore,  in  humble 
acquiescence  :  rest  satisfied  that  whatever 
is,  by  the  appointment  of  I|eaven,f  is  right, 
is  best. 


*  Permittasipsis  expandere  niiminibus,  quid 
Conveniat  nobis,  rebusque  sit  utile  nostris. 
Nam  pro  juciin  lisaptissiniLi  puscquedabuntdii ; 
Carior  est  illis  humo,  qiiam  sibi. — Juvcn. 
Since  all  the  downward  tracts  of  time 

God's  watchful  eye  surveys ; 
O  !  whoso  wise  to  choose  our  lot, 

And  regulate  our  ways  ? 
Since  none  can  doubt  his  equal  love, 

Unmeasurably  kind ; 
To  his  unerring  gracious  will 

Be  ev'ry  wish  resign'd. 
Good  when  he  gives,  supremely  good. 

Nor  less,  when  he  denies ; 
Ev'n  crosses,  from  his  sov'reign  hand. 
Are  blessings  in  disguise. 
-  Whatever  is,  is  right.— I'  Mr.  Pope  understands 
the  maxim  accordin;^  to   the  limitation   expressed 
«bove,  he  speaks  a   most   umlcaiable  and  glorious 


Among  all  the  productions  of  the  third 
creating  day,  this  of  flowers  seems  to  be 
pecidiarly  designed  for  man.  Man  has  the 
monopoly  of  this  favour  ;  it  is  conferred 
upon  him  by  a  sort  of  exclusive  charter. 
See  the  imperial  crown,  splendid  and  beau- 
tifully grand !  See  the  tube  rose,  delicate 
and  languishingly  fair !  See  all  the  pomp 
and  glory  of  the  parterre,  where  paint  and 
perfume  do  wonders.  Yet  the  inferior  ani- 
mals are  neither  smit  with  their  beauties, 
nor  regaled  with  their  odours  :  The  horse 
never  stands  still  to  gaze  upon  their  charms  ; 
nor  does  the  ox  turn  aside  to  browse  upon 
their  sweets.  Senses  they  have  to  discern 
these  curious  objects  in  the  gross,  but  no 
taste  to  distinguish  or  relish  their  fine  ac- 
complishments  Just  so,  carnal  and  imen- 

lightened  men  may  understiind  the  literal 
meaning  of  Scripture,  may  comprehend  the 
evidences  of  its  divine  inspiration,  yet  have 
no  relish  of  the  heavenly  truths  it  teaches, 
no  ardent  longing  for  the  spiritual  blessings 
it  offers,  and  see  "  no  form  or  comeliness" 
in  the  Saviour  it  describes,  so  as  to  render 
him  the  supreme  desire  of  their  souls. 

The  chief  end  of  these  beautiful  appear- 
ances, philosophers  say,  is  to  enfold  and 
cherish  the  embryo  seed ;  or  to  swathe  the 
tender  body  during  its  infant  state.  But, 
whatever  is  the  chief  end  of  nature,  it  is 
certain  she  never  departs  from  the  design  of 
administering  delight  to  mankind.*  This 
is   inseparably    coimected   with    her   other 

views Were  it  only  to  secure  a  reproductive 

principle,  what  need  of  such  elegant  compli- 
cations? Why  so  much  art  employed,  and 
so  many  decorations  added  ?  Why  should 
vestments  be  prepared  richer  than  brocades, 
more  delicate  than  lawns,  and  of  a  finer  glow 


truth.  But  if  that  great  poet  includes  whatever 
comes  to  pass  through  the  wild  and  extravagant  pas- 
sions of  men,  surely  no  thinking  person,  at  least  no 
Christian,  can  accede  to  his  opinion.  What  God  or- 
ders is  wise,  beyond  all  possibility  of  correction,  and 
good,  above  all  that  we  can  ask  or  think.  His  decrees 
are  the  result  of  infinite  discernment,  and  his  dispen- 
sations the  issues  of  unbounded  benevolence.  But 
man,  fallen  man,  is  hurried  away  by  his  lusts,  into  a 
thousand  irregularities  which  are  deplorably  evil  in 
themselves,  and  attended  with  consequences  mani- 
festly pernicious  to  society. — Let  the  sentiment,  there- 
fore, be  restrained  to  the  disposals  of  Heaven,  and 
I  must  readily  subscribe  it.  But  if  it  be  extended  to 
the  conduct  of  men,  and  the  etTects  of  their  folly,  I 
think  myself  obliged  to  enter  my  protest  against  it. 
For  whatever  kindles  the  divine  indignation — iscause 
of  final  ruin  to  the  author — is  strictly  forbidden  by 
God's  holy  word,  is  contrary  to  the  whole  design  of 
his  revealed  will,  and  the  very  reverse  of  his  essential 
attributes.  This  cannot  possibly  be  right.  This  is 
most  undoubtedly  wrong.  Omnipotence,  indeed,  can 
overrule  it,  and  deduce  good  from  it;  but  the  very 
notion  of  overruling,  supposes  it  to  be  absolutely 
wrom»  in  it.self. 

•  "  We  find  that  the  most  important  parts  in  the 
vegetable  world,  are  those  which  are  the  most  beau- 
tiful. These  are  the  seeds  by  which  thesevcral  race* 
of  plants  are  propagated  and  continued,  and  which 
are  always  lodged  in  flowers  or  blossoms.  Nature 
seems  to  hide  her  iirincipal  design,  and  to  be  indus- 
trious in  makmg  the  earth  gay  and  delightful,  while 
she  is  carrying  on  her  great  work,  and  intent  upon 
her  own  preservation."— Specfafor,  vol.  v.  No.  Say. 


44 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A   FLOWER-GARDEN. 


than  the  most  admired  velvets  ?  If  the 
great  mother  had  no  other  aim  than  barely 
to  accommodate  her  little  offspring,  warm 
flannel,  or  homely  fustian,  would  have  serv- 
ed her  turn  ;  served  it  full  as  well  as  the 
most  sumptuous  tissue,  or  all  the  furniture 
of  the  mercer's  shop. 

Evident  then  it  is,  that  flowers  were  en- 
dued with  such  enchanting  graces  for  the 
pleasure  of  man.  In  pursuance  of  this  ori- 
ginal intention,  they  have  always  paid  their 
court  to  the  human  race  ;  they  still  seem 
particularly  solicitous  of  recommending 
themselves  to  our  regard.  The  finest  of 
each  species  crowd  about  our  habitations, 
and  are  rarely  to  be  seen  at  a  distance  from 
our  abodes.  They  thrive  under  our  culti- 
vating hand  and  obsernng  eye  ;  but  degen- 
erate and  pine  away,  if  unregarded  by  their 

lord To  wn  his  attention,  and  deck  his 

retreats,  they  hide  their  deformities  under 
ground,  and  display  nothing  but  the  most 
graceful  forms  and  engaging  colours,  to  his 
sight.  To  merit  a  farther  degree  of  his  es- 
teem, the  generality  of  them  dispense  a  de- 
lightful perfume.  What  is  still  more  ob- 
liging, they*  reserve  their  richest  exhala- 
tions to  embalm  his  morning  and  evening 
walks. f  Because  he  usually  chooses  those 
cool  hours  to  recreate  himself  among  their 
blooming  ranks  ;  therefore,  at  these  hours, 
they  are  most  lavish  of  their  fragrance,  and 
breathe  out  their  choicest  spirits. 

O  man,  greatly  beloved  by  the  Creator  ! 
the  darling  of  Providence  !  thou  art  distin- 
guished by  his  goodness  ;  distinguish  thy- 
self also  by  thy  gratitude.  Beit  thy  one 
undi°vided  aim  to  glorify  him,  who  has 
been  at  so  much  expense  to  gratify  thee  ! — 
While  all  these  inferior  creatures  in  si- 
lent eloquence,  declare  the  glory  of  God, 
do  thou  lend  them  thy  tongue.  Be 
thou  the  high-priest  of  the  mute  creation  ; 
let  their  praises  become  vocal  in  thy  songs. 
— Adore  the  supreme  Benefactor,  for  the 
blessmgs  he  showers  down  upon  every  or- 
der of  beings  ;  adore  him  for  numberless 
mercies,  which  are  appropriated  to  thyself; 
but  above  all,  adore  him,  for  that  noble  gift 
of  a  rational  and  immortal  soul This  con- 
stitutes us  masters  of  the  globe,  and  gives 
■us  the  real  enjoyment  of  its  riches.  Thi« 
discovers  ten  thousand  beauties,  which 
otherwise  had  been  lost ;  and  renders  them 
both  a  source  of  delights,  and  a  nursery  of 
devotion By  virtue  of  this  exalted  princi- 
ple, we  are  qualified  to  admire  our  Maker's 


works,  and  capable  of  bearing  his  illustrious, 
image ;  bearing  his  illustrious  image,  not 
only  when  these  ornaments  of  the  ground 
have  resigned  their  honours,  but  when  the 
great  origin  of  day  is  extinguished  in  the 
skies,  and  all  the  flaming  orbs  on  high  are 
put  out  in  obscure  darkness Then  to  sur- 
vive, to  survive  the  nuns  of  one  world,  and 
to  enjoy  God — to  resemble  God — to  be 
"  filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God,"  in 
another: — what  a  happiness,  what  an  ines- 
timable happiness  is  this  !  Yet  this  is  thy 
privilege,  (barter  it  not  for  trifles  of  an 
hour  I)  this  is  thy  glorious  prerogative,  O 
man ! 

O  !  the  goodness,  the  exuberant  good- 
ness, of  our  God !  I  cannot  forbear  celebrat- 
ing it  once  more,  before    I  pass  to  another 

consideration How     much     should    we 

think  ourselves  obliged  to  a  generous  friend, 
who  should  build  a  stately  edifice,  purely 
for  our  abode*  !  but  how  greatly  would  the 


•  The  flow'rs, 


That  open  now  their  choicfet  bisom'd  smells, 
Reserv'd  from  night,  and  kept  for  thee  in  store. 

Milton. 
t  The  twining  jessamine,  and  theb'ushing  rose. 
With  lavish  grare  their  morning-scents  disclose  : 
The  smelling  lub'rose  and  jomjuil  declare 
The  stronger  impulse  of  an  evening  air. 

Prior's  Sol. 


*  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that  the  comparison  is 
stretched  beyond  proper  bounds,  when  carried  to  this 
pitch.  It  is  my  steadfast  opinion,  that  the  world,  at 
least  this  lower  world,  with  its  various  appurtenances, 
was  iTitended  purely  for  man :  that  it  is  appropriated 
to  him  ;  and  that  he  (in  subordination  to  God's  glo- 
ry) is  the  end  of  it?  creation.  Other  animals,  it  is 
true,  partake  of  the  Creator's  benefits,  but  then  they 
partake,  under  the  notion  of  man's  domestics,  or  on 
the  foot  of  retainers  to;  as  creatures  wliich  bear  some 
relation  to  his  service,  and  some  way  or  other  contri- 
bute to  his  good,  so  that  still  he  is  the  centre  of  the 
whole;  or,  as  our  incomparable  Milton,  equally  mas- 
ter of  poetry  and  divinity,  expresses  himself.  All 
things  live  for  man. — Pnr.  Lost,  book  xi.  ver.  Kil. 

Mr.  Pope,  in  his  Ethic  Epistles,  is  pleased  to  ex- 
plode this  tenet,  as  the  height  of  pride  and  a  gross 
absurdity.  For  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  for  such  a 
charge.  With  all  submission  to  sosuperiora  genius, 
it  seems  very  remote  from  pride,  to  be  duly  sensible 
of  favours  vouchsafed,  to  contemplate  them  in  all 
the  extent  of  their  munificence,  and  acknowledge 
them  accordingly.  I  should  rather  imagine,  that  to 
contract  their  size,  when  they  are  immensely  lar^e; 
to  stint  their  number,  when  they  are  altogether  in- 
numerable, that  such  a  procedure  savours  more  of 
insensibility,  than  our  hypothesis  of  presumption, 
and  has  more  in  it  of  ingratitude  than  that  of  arro- 
gance. 

And  how  can  it  be  deemed  an  absurdity,  to  main- 
tain that  God  gave  us  a  world  for  our  possession, 
when  it  is  our  duty  to  believe  that  he  gave  us  his  on- 
ly Son  for  our  propitiation  ?  Sure,  it  can  be  neither 
difficult  nor  extravagant  to  suppose,  that  he  designed 
the  habitable  globe,  with  its  whole  furniture,  for  our 
present  use,  since  he  withheld  not  his  only  child  Je- 
sus, but  freely  delivered  hira  up  for  our  final  salva- 
tion. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  cannot  but  conclude,  that  the 
attempt  of  our  famous  poet,  is  neither  kind  with  re- 
gard to  his  fellow  creatures,  nor  grateful  with  regard 
to  his  Creator ;  neither  is  his  scheme,  in  fact,  true. 
The  attempt  not  kind,  with  regard  to  man,  because 
it  robs  him  of  one  of  the  most  delightful  and  ravish- 
ing contemplations  imaginable.  To  consider  thegi  eat 
Author  of  existence  as  having  me  in  his  eye  when  he 
formed  universal  nature,  ascontriving  all  things  with 
an  immediate  view  to  the  exigences  of  my  particular 
state ;  and  making  them  all  in  such  a  manner  as  might 
be  most  conducive  to  mv  particular  advantage ;  tiiis 
must  occasion  the  strongest  satisfaction,  wnenever 
I  cast  a  glance  on  the  objects  that  surround  me.  Not 
grateful  with  regard  to  God,  because  it  has  the  most 
direct  tendency  to  diminish  our  sense  of  his  kindness, 
and,  by  that  means,  to  throw  a  damp  upon  our  gra- 
titude. It  teaches  us  to  look  upon  ourselves  as  al- 
most lost  among  a  crowd  of  other  beings,  or  regard- 
ed only  witli  an  occasional  and  incidental  lieneficence, 
which  must  certainly  weaken  the  disposition,  and 
indeed  slacken  the  ties,  to  the  most  adoring  thankful- 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


obligation  be  increased,  if  the  hand  that 
built  should  also  furnish  it  !  and  not  only 
furnish  it  with  all  that  is  commodious  and 
comfortaVjle,  but  ornamfut  it  also  with 
whatever  is  splendid  and  delightful  !  This 
has  our  most  indulgent  Creator  done  in  a 
manner  infinitely  surjjassing  all  we  could 
wish  or  imagine. 

The  earth  is  assigned  us  for  a  dwelling — 
The  skies  are  stretched  over  us,  like  a  mag- 
nificent canopy  dyed  in  the  piU'est  azure  ; 
and  beautified,  now  with  pictures  of  float- 
ing silver,  now  with  colouriitgs  of  reflected 

crimson The  grass  is  spread  und^r  us  as 

a  spacious  carpet,  wove  with  silken  threads 
of  green,  and  damasked  with  flowers. of 
every  hue. — The  sun,  like  a  golden  lamp, 
IS  hung  out  in  the  etherial  vault ;  and  pours 
efTulgenee    all    the   day,    to    enlighten  our 

paths When  night  approaches,  the  moon 

takes  up  the  friendly  office  ;  and  the  stars 
are  kindled  in  twinkling  myriads,  to  cheer 
the  darkness  with  their  milder  lustre,  not  to 
disturb  our  repose  by  too  intense  a  glare — 
The  clouds,  besides  the  rich  paintings  they 
hang  around  the  heavens,  act  the  part  of  a 
shifting  screen  ;  and  defend  us,  by  their 
seasonable  interposition,  from  the  scorching 
beams  of  summer.  May  we  not  also 
regard  them  as  the  great  watering  pots  of 
the  globe,  which,  wafted  on  the  \\'ings  of 
the  wind,  dispense  their  moisture*  evenly 


ness.  To  which  I  apprehend  we  may  justly  add,  nei- 
ther is  the  scheme,  in  fact,  true.  For,  not  to  men- 
tion what  might  be  urged  from  the  sure  word  of  reve- 
lation, this  one  argument  appears  sufficiently  conclu- 
sive. The  world  began  with  man,  the  world  must 
cease  with  man ;  consequently,  the  grand  use,  the 
principal  end  of  the  world  is,  to  subserve  the  interests 
of  man.  It  is,  on  all  sides,  agreed,  tJiat  the  edifice 
was  erected  when  man  was  to  be  furnished  with  an 
habitation,  and  that  it  will  be  demolished,  when  man 
has  no  further  need  of  its  accommodations.  When 
he  enters  into  the  "  house  not  made  with  hands,  eter- 
nal in  the  heavens,  the  earth,  and  all  the  works  that 
are  therein,  shall  be  burnt  up."  From  which  it  seems 
a  very  obvious  and  fair  deduction,  that  man  is  the  fi- 
nal cause  of  this  inferior  creation. 

So  that  I  think  my  readers  and  myself,  privileged 
(not  to  say,  on  the  principles  of  gratitude,  obliged) 
to  use  those  lovely  lines  of  our  author,  with  a  pro- 
priety and  truth,  equal  to  their  elegance  and  beau- 
ty: 

Forme  kind  nature  wakes  her  genial  pow'r, 
Suckles  each  herb,  and  spreads  out  every  flow'r! 
Annu  >1,  for  me,  the  grape,  the  rose,  renew 
The  juice  nectareous,  and  the  balmy  dew; 
For  me,  the  mine  a  thousand  treasures  brings ; 
For  me,  health  gushes  fiom  a  thousand  springs. 
Eth.  Ep.  i.  ver.  Id!). 

•  This  circumstance,  amidst  abundance  of  other 
delicate  and  edifying  remarks  upon  the  wonders  of 
nature,  is  finely  touched  in  the  philosophical  tran- 
sactions recorded  in  the  book  of  Job,  chap,  xxxviii. 
18. — Who  hath  divided  the  %vater-course  for  the  over- 
flowing of  waters  ?  The  Hebrew  is  so  pregnant  and 
rich  with  sense,  that  no  translation  can  do  it  justice. 
The  following  paraphrase,  perhaps,  may  represent 
the  princijjal  ideas  comprehended  in  the  expressive 
original:  Who  hath  branched  out.  and  with  admir- 
able judgment,  disposed  a  variety  of  aqueducts  for 
that  immense  collection  of  waters  which  float  in  the 
gky  ?  Who  distributes  those  pendulous  floods  through 
all' the  bo  ders  of  the  earth  ?  distributes  them  not  in 
dreadful  cataracts,  or  promiscuous  gluts  of  rain,  but 
in  kindly  drops  of  refreshing  showers,  with  !is  much 


'45 

through  the  universal  garden  ;  and  fructify 
with  their  showers,  whatever  our  hand 
plants? — The    fields    are    our   exhaustless 

granary The  ocean  is  our  vast  reservoir. 

—The  animals  spend  their  strength  to  dis- 
patch oiu-  biisiness  ;  resign  their  clothing  to 
replenish  our  wardrobe  ;  and  surrender  their 
very  lives  to  provide  for  our  tables. — In 
short,  every  element  is  a  store-house  of 
conveniences,  every  season  brings  us  to 
choicest  productions  ;  all  nature  is  our  ca- 
terer  And  which  is  a  most  endearing  re- 
commendation of  these  favours,  they  are 
as  lovely  as  they  are  useful.  You  observe 
nothing  mean  or  inelegant.  All  is  clad  in 
beauty's  fairest  robe,*  and  regulated  by  pro- 
portion's nicest  rule.  The  whole  scene 
exhibits  a  fund  of  pleasures  to  the  imagina- 
tion, at  the  same  time  that  it  more  than 
su])plies  all  our  wants.f 

Therefore  thou  art  inexcusable,  O  man, 
whosoever  thou  art,  that  rebellcst  against 
thy  ]\Iaker.  He  sxurounds  thee  with  un- 
numbered benefits,  and  follows  thee  with 
an  effusion  of  the  richest,  noblest  gifts.  He 
courts  thy  affections,  he  solicits  thy  grati- 
tude, by  liberalities  which  are  never  inter- 
mitted, by  a  boimty  wltich  knows  no  limits. 
— Most  blessed  Lord,  let  this  thy  goodness, 
thy  unwearied  goodness,  lead  us  to  repent- 
ance. Win  us  to  thyself,  thou  fountain  of 
felicity,  by  these  sweet  inducements.  Draw 
us  to  our  duty,  thou  God  of  our  salvation,  by 
these  "cords  of  love." 

What  a  livang  picture  is  here  of  the  be- 
neficial effects  of  industrj' !  By  industry  and 
cultivation,  this  neat  spot  is  an  image  of 
Eden.  Here  is  all  that  can  entertain  the 
eye,  or  regale  the  smell.  J  Whereas  with- 
out cidtivation,  this  sweet  garden  had  been 
a  desolate  wilderness  ;  vile  thistles  had  made 
it  loathsome,  and  tangling  briers  inaccessi- 
ble. Without  cultivation,  it  might  have 
been  a  nest  for  serpents,  and  the  horrid 
haimt  of  venomous  creatures.  But  the 
spade  and  priming  knife,  in  the  hand  of  in- 
dustry, have  improved  it  into  a  sort  of  ter- 
restrial paradise. 


regularity  and  economy,  as  if  they  were  conveyed  by 
pipes  from  a  conduit  ? — To  whom  shall  we  ascribe 
that  niceness  of  contrivance,  which  now  emits,  now 
restrains  them  ;  sometimes  drives  their  humid  train 
to  one  pJace,  and  sometimes  to  another!  dispenses 
them  to  this  soil  in  larger,  to  that  in  smaller  conr- 
munications  :  and,  in  a  word,  so  mR,nages  the  mighty 
fluid,  that  every  spot  is  supplied  in  exact  proportion 
to  its  wants,  none  destroyed  by  an  undistinguished 
deluge. 

*  I'erhaps  it  was  from  such  an  observation  that  the 
Greeks,  those  critical  and  refined  judges  of  thin^, 
expressed  the  mundane  system,  by  a  word  which  sigv 
nines  beauty. 

t  "  Thi^e  several  living  creatures,  which  are  made 
for  our  service,  or  sustenance,  at  the  same  time  either 
fill  the  woods  with  music,  furnish  its  with  game,  or 
raise  pleasing  ideas  in  us  by  the  delightfulness  of  their 
appearance.  Fountains,  lakes,  and  rivers,  areas  re- 
freshing to  the  imagination  as  to  the  soil  througH 
which  they  ftasf,,"— Spectator,  vol.  v.  No.  3iJ7- 

-^  Omnis  copia  narium, — Horat-e 


46 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A   FLOV/ER-GARDEN. 


How  naturally  does  this  lead  our  con- 
templation, to  the  advantages  which  flow 
from  a  nrtuous  education,  and  the  miseries 
which  ensue  from  the  neglect*  of  it ! — The 
mind,  without  early  instruction,  will,  in  all 
probability,  become  like  the  "  vineyard  of 
the  sluggard."  If  left  to  the  propensities 
of  its  own  depraved  will,  what  can  we  ex- 
pect, but  the  most  luxuriant  growth  of  un- 
ruly appetites,  which,  in  time  may  break 
forth  in  all  manner  of  scandalous  irregular- 
ities ?  'W^hat ! — but  that  anger,  like  a  prick- 
ly thorn,  arm  the  temper  with  an  untracta- 
ble  moroseness  ;  peevishness,  like  a  sting- 
ing nettle,  render  the  conversation  u'ksome 
and  forbidding ;  avarice,  like  some  choak- 
ing  weed,  teach  tlie  fingers  to  gripe,  and  the 
hands  to  oppress  ;  revenge,  like  some  poi- 
sonous plant,  replete  with  baneful  juices, 
rankle  in  the  breasts,  and  meditate  mischief 
to  its  neighbour  ;  while  unbridled  lusts,  like 
swarms  of  noisome  insects,  taint  each  rising 
thought,  and  render  "  every  imagination  of 
the  heart  only  evil  continually." — Such  are 
the  usual  products  of  savage  nature !  such 
the  furniture  of  the  uncultivated  soul ! 

"Whereas,  let  the  mind  be  put  under  the 
"  nurtiu-e  and  admonition  of  the  Lord  ;"  let 
holy  discipline  clear  the  soil ;  let  sacred  in- 
Btruction  sow  it  with  the  best  seed ;  let 
skill  and  vigilance  dress  the  rising  shoots, 
direct  the  young  ideas  how  to  spread,  the 
wayward  passions  how  to  move — then,  what 
a  different  state  of  the  inner-man  will  quick- 
ly take  place ;  charity  will  breathe  her 
sweets,  and  hope  expand  hci'  blossoms  ;  the 
personal  virtues  display  their  graces,  and  the 
social  ones  their  fruits  :f  the  sentiments  be- 
come generous  ;  the  cariiage  endearing,  the 
life  honourable  and  useful.  | 

O  !  that  governors  of  families  and  mas- 
ters of  schools  would  watch,  with  a  consci- 
entious solicitude,  over  the  morals  of  their 
tender  charge  !  What  pity  is  it  that  the  ad- 
vancing generations  should  lose  these  inva- 
luable endowments  through  any  supineness 
in  their  instructors  ! — See  !  with  what  assi- 
duity the  curious  florist  attends  his  little 
nursery  ;  he  visits  them  early  and  late,  fur- 
nishes them  with  the  properest  mould,  sup- 


»  Neglectis  urenda  filix  iiiascitur  agris. — Horace. 

•t  This  transformation  of  the  heart,  and  renewal 
of  the  hfe,  are  represented  in  scripture,  by  similitudes 
very  nearly  allied  to  the  image  used  al)ove — God,  by 
his  sanctifying  Spirit,  will  make  the  soul  as  a  watered 
garden.  Under  theoperationof  thisdivineprinciple, 
the  desert  shall  rejoice,  and  blossom  as  the  rose. 
W'he  everit  exerts  the  refining  and  ennobling  energy, 
•' instead  of  the  thoni,  shall  come  up  the  fir-tree; 
find,  instead  of  the  brier,  the  myrtle-tree,"  Jer  xxxi. 
12.     Isa.  XXXV.  1,  and  Iv.  13. 

$  A  teneris  assuescere  tanti  esti — Virtr. 

The  principles  we  imbibe,  and  the  habits  we  con- 
tract, in  our  early  years,  are  not  matters  of  small  mo- 
ment, but  of  the  utmost  consequence  imaginable. 
They  not  only  give  a  transient  or  superficial  tincture 
to  our  first  appearance  in  life,  but  most  commonly 
Stamp  the  form  of  our  whole  future  conduct,  and 
«ven  of  our  eternal  state. 


plies  them  wath  seasonable  moisture,  guards 
them  from  the  ravages  of  insects,  screens 
them  from  the  injuries  of  the  weather,  marks 
their  springing  buds,  obser%'es  them  atten- 
tively through  their  whole  progress,  and 
never  intermits  his  anxiety,  till  he  beholds 

them  blowTi  into  full  perfecrion And  shall 

a  range  of  painted  leaves,  which  flourish  to- 
day, and  to-morrow  fall  to  the  groimd, — 
shall  these  be  tended  with  more  zealous  ap- 
plication than  the  exalted  faculties  of  an  im- 
mortal soul ! 

Yet  trust  not  in  cultivation  alone.  It  is 
the  blessing  of  the  almighty  Husbandman 
which  imparts  success  to  such  labours  of 
love.  If  God  "  seal  up  the  bottles  of  hea- 
ven," and  command  the  clouds  to  withhold 
their  fatness,  the  best  manured  plot  be- 
comes a  barren  desert.  And  if  He  restain 
the  dew  of  his  heavenly  benediction,  all  hu- 
man endeavours  miscari-y  ;  the  rational  plan- 
tation languishes  ;  our  most  pregnant  hopes 
from  youths  of  the  most  promising  genius 
prove  abortive.  Their  root  will  be  as  rot- 
tenness, and  their  blossoms  will  go  up  as 
dust.  (Isa.  v.  24.)  Therefore,  let  parents 
plant,  let  tutors  water,  but  let  both  look 
up  to  the  Father  of  spirits  for  the  desired 
increase. 

On  every  side,  I  espy  several  budding 
flowers.  As  yet  they  are  like  bales  of  su- 
perfine cloth  from  the  packer's  warehouse. 
Each  is  wrapt  within  a  strong  inclosure, 
and  its  contents  are  tied  together  by  the 
firmest  bandages.  So  that  all  their  beauties 
lie  concealed,  and  all  their  sweets  are  lock- 
ed up. — Just  such  is  the  niggardly  wretch, 
whose  aims  are  all  turned  inward,  and 
meanly  terminated  upon  himself,  who  makes 
his  own  private  interest  or  personal  plea- 
sure, the  sole  centre  of  his  designs,  and  the 
scanty  circinnference  of  his  actions. 

Ere  long,  the  searching  beams  will  open 
these  silken  folds,  and  draw  them  into  grace- 
ful expansion.  Then  what  a  lovely  blush 
will  glow  in  their  cheeks  ;  and  what  a  balmy 
odour  exhale  from  their  bosoms  !  So,  when 
divine  grace  shines  upon  the  mind,  even  the 
churl  becomes  bountiful ;  the  heart  of  stone 
is  taken  away,  and  a  heart  of  flesh,  a  heart 
susceptible  of  the  softest,  most  compassion- 
ate emotions,  is  introduced  in  its  stead.  O  ! 
liow  sweetly  do  the  social  affections  dilate 
themselves,  under  so  benign  an  influence  ! 
Just  like  those  disclosing  gems,  imder  tlie 
powerful  eye  of  day.  The  tender  regards 
are  no  longer  confined  to  a  single  object,  but 
extend  themselves  into  a  generous  concern 
for  mankind,  and  shed  liberal  refreshments 
on  all  within  their  reach.* 


•  The  prophet,  describing  the  charitable  tempi'T, 
verv  beautifully  says,  "  If  thou  draw  out  thy  soul  to 
thehungry  !"— This,  1  think  may  not  improperly  be 
illustrated  by  the  circumstances  observed  above.  The 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


47 


Arise  then,  thou  Sun  of  Righteousness  ; 
arise  with  healing  under  thy  wings  ;  and 
transfuse  thy  gentle,  but  ])enetrating  ray 
through  all  our  intellectual  ])owers.  En- 
large every  narrow  disposition,  and  fill  us 
M'iih  a  diffusive  benevolence.  IVIake  room 
in  our  breasts  for  the  whole  human  race, 
and  teach  us  to  love  all  our  fellow-creatures 
for  their  amiable  Creator's  sake.  May  we 
be  pleased  with  their  excellencies,  and  re- 
joice in  their  happiness,  but  feel  their  mis- 
eries as  our  own,  and  with  a  brother's  sym- 
pathy, hasten  to  I'elieve  them. 

Disposed  at  proper  distances,  I  observe 
a  range  of  strong  and  stately  stalks.  They 
stand  like  towers  along  the  waUs  of  a  forti- 
fied city,  or  rise  like  lofty  spires  amidst  the 
grou})  of  houses.  They  part  at  the  top  into 
several  pensile  spiky  pods,  from  each  of 
which  we  shall  see  a  fine  figure  displacing 
itself;  rounded  into  a  form  which  consti- 
tutes a  perfect  circle ;  spread  wide  open, 
into  the  most  frank  and  communicative  air; 
and  tinged  with  the  colour,  which  is  so  pe- 
culiarly captivating  to  the  miser's  eye. 

But  the  property  I  chiefly  admire,  is  its 
passionate  fondness  for  the  sun.  When 
the  evening  shades  take  place,  the  poor 
flower  droops,  and  folds  up  its  leaves.  It 
mourns  iill  the  long  night,  and  pines  amidst 
the  gloom,  like  some  forlorn  lover,  banished 
from  the  object  of  his  affections.  No  soon- 
er does  providence  open  "  the  eye-lids  of 
the  morning,"  but  it  meets  and  welcomes 
the  returning  light  ;•  courts  and  caresses  it 
all  the  day ;  nor  ever  loses  sight  of  the  re- 
fulgent charmer,  so  long  as  he  continues 
above  the  horizon.  In  the  morning,  you 
may  perceive  it  presenting  a  golden  bosom 
to  the  east ;  at  noon,  it  points  upward  to 
the  middle  sky  ;  in  the  evening,  follows  the 
same  attractive  influence  to  the  west. 

Surely  nature  is  a  book,  and  every  page 
rich  with  secret  hints.  To  an  attentive 
mind,  the  garden  turns  preacher,  and  its 
blooming  tenants  are  so  many  lively  ser- 
mons. What  an  engaging  pattern,  and 
what  an  excellent  lesson  have  we  here  !  So, 
let  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  look  unto  Je- 
sus, ( Heb.  xii.  2. )  and  be  conformed  to  their 
beloved.  Let  us  all  be  heliotropes  (if  I 
may  use  the  expression)  to  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness.      Let  our  passions  rise  and 


ojiening  of  those  buds  into  a  large  and  extensive 
spread,  is  a  pretty  portrait  of  the  amphtude  of  a  gen- 
erous heart,  which  cannot  shut  up  its  compassion,  or 
remain  unconcerned  at  any  human  calamity.  The 
freeness  and  coj)iousness  with  which  the  expanded 
flowers  are  continually  pouring  out  their  cnoicest 
essences,  may  represent  the  various  acts  of  an  un- 
wearied liberality',  toother  with  those  endearing 
words,  and  that  cordial  affection,  which  embalm,  as 
it  were,  a  gift,  double  its  value ;  and  constitute,  wliat 
the  sacred  penman  styles,  drawing  out  the  soul,  De- 
prorapseris  animam  tuam,  Isa.  Iviii.  10. 

•  Ilia  suum,  quamvis  rndice  tenetur, 

Vtrtitur  ad  Soleui. Ovid. ' 


fall,  take  this  course  or  that,  as  his  word 
determines,  as  his  holy  examjile  guides. 
Let  us  be  so  accommodated,  both  to  his 
commanding  and  providential  will,  as  the 
wax  is  turned  to  the  imj)rinted  seal ;  or,  as 
the  aspect  of  this  enamoured  flower,  to  the 
spIendLid  star  which  creates  oiu'  day. 

In  every  enjoyment,  O  thou  watchfiJ 
Christian,  look  unto  Jesus ;  receive  it  as 
proceeding  from  his  love,  and  purchased  by 
his  agonies.  *  In  every  tribulation  look  unto 
Jesus  ;  mark  his  gracious  hand,  managing 
the  scourge,  or  mingling  the  bitter  cup  ;  at- 
tempering it  to  a  proper  degree  of  severity ; 
adjusting  the  time  of  its  continuance  ;  and 
ready  to  make  these  seeming  disasters  pro- 
ductive of  real  good.  In  every  infirmity 
and  failing,  look  unto  Jesus,  thy  merciful 
high  priest,  pleading  his  atoning  blood,  and 
making  intercession  for  transgressors.  In 
every  prayer  look  unto  Jesus,  thy  prevail- 
ing advocate,  recommending  thy  devotions, 
and  "  bearing  the  iniquity  of  thy  holy 
things."  (Exod.  xxviii.  38.  )  In  every  temp- 
tation, look  imto  Jesus,  the  author  of  thy 
strength,  and  captain  of  thy  salvation,  who 
alone  is  able  to  lift  up  the  hands  which  hang 
down,  to  invigorate  the  enfeebled  knees, 
and  make  thee  more  than  conqueror  over  all 
thy  enemies  ;  but  especially  when  the  hour 
of  thy  departure  approaches  ;  when  "  thy 
flesh  and  thy  heart  fail ;"  when  all  the 
springs  of  life  are  irreparably  breaking,  then 
look  unto  Jesus  with  a  believing  eye.f 
Like  expiring  Stephen,  behold  him  stand- 
ing at  the  right  hand  of  God,  on  purpose  to 
succour  his  people  in  this  their  last  extremi- 
ty. Yes,  my  Christian  friend,  when  thy 
journey  through  life  is  finished,  and  thou 
art  arrived  on  the  very  verge  of  immor- 
tality ;  when  thou  art  just  launched  out  in- 
to the  invisible  world,  and  all  before  thee 
is  \'ast  eternity;  then,  O  then,  be  sure  to 
look  steadfastly  unto  Jesus !  "  See  by  faith 
the  Lord's  Christ."  View  him  as  the  on- 
ly way  (John  xiv.  6.)  to  the  everlasting 
mansions,  as  the  only  door  (Johnx.  9.)  to 
the  abodes  of  bliss. 

Yonder  tree,  which  faces  the  south,  has 
something  too  remarkable  to  pass  without 
observation.  Like  the  fruitful  though  fee- 
ble vine,  she  brings  forth  a  large  family  of 
branches,  but,  unable  to  support  them  her- 
self, commits  them  to  the  tuition  of  a  simny 
wall.  As  yet  the  tender  twigs  have  scarce 
gemmed  their  future  blossoms.  However, 
I  may  anticipate  the  well  knowTi  produc- 
tions, and  picture  to  myself  the  passion- 
flower, which  will,  in  due  time,  with  a  long 
and  copious  succession,  adorn  the  boughs. 

*  He  sunk  beneath  our  heavy  woes. 
To  raise  us  to  his  throne ; 
There's  not  a  gift  his  hand  bestows 
But  cost  his  Iieart  a  groan. —  tValt.'!. 
f  "  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  the  eniJ*  of 
the  earth,"  Isa.  xiv. 22.  *       ' 


48 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


I  have  read,  in  a  Latin  author,  of  flowers 
inscribed  with  the  names  of  kings  ;*  but 
here  is  one  emblozened  with  the  marks  of 
the  bleeding  Prince  of  Life.  I  read  in  the 
inspired  writings,  of  apostolic  men,  who 
bore  about  in  their  bodies  the  dying  of  the 
Lord  Jesus;  (2  Cor.  iv.  10.)  but  here  is 
a  blooming  religioso,  that  carries  apparent 
memorials  of  the  same  tremendous  and  fa- 
tal catastrophe.  Who  would  have  expect- 
ed to  find  such  a  tragedy  of  woe  exhibited 
in  a  collection  of  the  most  delicate  delights  ? 
or  to  see  Calvary's  horrid  scene  pourtrayed 
on  the  softest  ornaments  of  the  garden? 
Is  nature  then  actuated  by  the  noble  ambi- 
tion of  paying  commemorative  honours  to 
her  agonizing  Sovereign  ?  Is  she  kindly  offi- 
cious to  remind  forgetful  mortals  of  that 
miracle  of  mercy,  which  it  is  their  duty  to 
contemplate,  and  their  happiness  to  believe  ? 
Or,  is  a  sportive  imagination  my  interpre- 
ter ;  and  all  the  supposed  resemblance,  no 
more  than  the  precarious  gloss  of  fancy  ? 
Be  it  so ;  yet  even  fancy  has  her  merit, 
when  she  sets  forth,  in  such  pleasing  im- 
agery, the  crucified  Jesus.  Nor  shall  I 
refuse  a  willing  regard  to  imagination  her- 
self, when  she  employs  her  creative  powers 
to  re\ave  the  sense  of  such  unparalleled  love, 
and  prompt  my  gratitude  to  so  divine  a 
friend. 

That  spiral  tendril,  arising  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  stalk,  is  it  a  representation  of 
the  scourge  which  lashed  the  Redeemer's 
unspotted  flesh,  and  inflicted  those  stripes 
by  which  our  souls  are  healed  !  Or,  is  it 
tivisted  for  the  cord  which  bound  his  hands 
in  painful  and  ignominious  confinement ; 
those  beneficent  hands,  which  were  inces- 
santly stretched  out  to  unloose  the  heavy 
burdens,  and  to  impart  blessings  of  every 
choice  kind? — Behold  the  nails  which  were 
drenched  in  his  sacred  veins,  and  rivetted 
his  feet  to  the  accursed  tree  ;  those  beauti- 
ful feet,f  which  always  went  about  doing 
good  ;  and  travelled  far  and  near,  to  spread 
the  glad  tidings  of  everlasting  salvation. 
See  the  hammer,  ponderous  and  massy, 
which  drove  the  rugged  iron  through  shiv- 
ering nerves,  and  forced  a  passage  for  those 
dreadful  wedges,  between  the  dislocated 
bones.  View  the  thorns,  which  encircled 
our  royal  Master's  brow,  and  shoot  their 
keen  aftiictive  points  into  his  blessed  head. 
O  the  smart !  the  racking  smart !  when, 
instead  of  the  triumphal  laurel,  or  the  odo- 
riferous garland,  that  pungent  and  ragged 
wreath  was  planted  on  the  meek  Messiah's 
forehead  !  when  violent  and  barbarous  blows 


of  the  strong  Eastern  cane,*  struck  the 
]>rickly  crown,  and  fixed  every  thorn  deep 
in  his  throbbing  temples. f  There  stand 
the  disciples,  ranged  in  the  green  empale- 
ment ;  and  forming  a  circle  round  the  instru- 
ments of  their  great  Commander's  death. 
They  appear  like  so  many  faithful  adherents, 
who  breathe  agallant  resolution,  either  of  de- 
fending their  Lord  to  the  last  extremity,  or 
of  dropping  honourably  by  his  side.  But 
did  they  give  such  proofs  of  zeal  and  fideli- 
ty in  their  conduct,  as  their  steady  posture, 
and  determined  aspect,  seem  to  promise  ? 
Alas  !  what  is  all  human  firmness,  when 
destitute  of  succours  from  above,  but  an 
expiring  vapour  ?  What  is  every  saint,  if  un- 
supported by  powerful  grace,  but  an  aban- 
doned traitor !  Observe  the  glory  delineat- 
ed in  double  rays,  grand  with  imperial  pur- 
ple, and  rich  with  aetherial  blue.  But,  ah ! 
how  incapable  are  threads,  though  spun  by 
summer's  finest  hand,  though  dyed  in  snows, 
or  dipped  in  heaven,  to  display  the  imma- 
culate excellency  of  his  human,  or  the  inef- 
fable majesty  of  his  divine  nature  !  Com- 
pared with  these  sublime  perfections,  the 
most  nvid  assemblage  of  colours  fades  in- 
to an  unmeaning  flatness  ;  the  most  charm- 
ing eflfects  of  light  and  shade  are  not  only 
mere  daubings,  but  an  absolute  blank. 

Among  all  the  beauties  which  shine  in 
sunny  robes,  and  sip  the  silver  dews,  this, 
I  thhik,  has  the  noblest  import,  if  not  the 
finest  presence.  Were  they  all  to  pass  in 
review,  and  expect  the  award  of  superiority 
from  my  decision,  I  should  not  hesitate  a 
moment.  Be  the  prize  assigned  to  this 
amiable  candidate,  which  has  so  eminently 
distinguished,  and  so  bighly  dignified  her- 
self, by  bearing  such  a  remarkable  resem- 
blance to  the  "  righteous  Branch,  the  Plant 
of  reno^\Tl."|  While  others  appoint  it  a 
place  in  the  parterre,  I  would  transplant  the 
passion  flower,  or  rather  transfer  its  sacred 
significancy  to  my  heart.  There  let  it 
bloom,  both   in   summer  and  in  winter  ; 


•  Die,  quibus  in  terris  inscripti  nomina  regum 
Nascantur  flores  ? ''»•«■. 

f  "  How  beautiful  are  the  feet  of  him  that  bring- 
eth  good  tidings,  that  pubhsheth  peace,  that  bring- 
eth  good  tidings  of  good,  that  publisheth  salvation !" 
Isa.  lii.  7- 


*  They  took  the  reed,  siys  the  sacred  historian, 
and  smote  him  on  the  head;  "and  so,  as  it  were, 
nailed  down  the  thorns  into  his  forehead  and  temples, 
and  occasioned  thereby  exquisite  pain,  as  well  as  a 
great  effusion  of  blood." — Ffimil;/  Krpositor,  vol.  ii. 
sect.  188. — "It  is  most  probable,"  adds  the  same  ju- 
dicious critic,  "  this  was  a  walking-staff,  which  they 
put  into  his  hand  as  a  sceptre;  for  a  blow  with  a  slight 
reed  would  scarce  have  been  felt,  or  have  deserved  a 
mention  in  a  detail  of  such  dreadful  sufferings." 

}  The  smart  attending  this  unparalleled  piece  of 
contempt  and  barbarity,  must  be  inexpressibly  severe; 
not  only  on  account  of  the  many  painful  pimctures 
made  in  the  flesh,  but  principally,  because  of  the 
periosteum,  an  exquisitely  sensible  tegument  of  the 
bones,  lying  in  those  parts  very  near  the  external 
skin,  must  receive  a  multitude  of  terrible  wounds, 
the  anguish  of  which  could  not  fail  of  being  inflamed 
to  an  excess  of  r»ge,  by  the  continuance  of  so  many 
thorny  lancets,  in  that  extremely  tender  membrane; 
which,  in  such  a  case, 

Trembling  alive  all  o'er. 

Must  smart  and  agonize  at  every  pore. 

i  So  the  blessed  Jesus  is  described.  Jer.  xxiii.  & 
Enek.  xxxiv.  29. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A   FLOWER-GARDEN. 


49 


bloom  in  the  most  impressive  c-har.ictcrs,  and 
with  ail  iindccaying  lustre.  Tliat  I  also  may 
wear, — wear  on  my  very  soul,  the  traces 
of  Immamiel,  pierced  for  my  sins,  and 
bruised  for  my  transgressions.  That  I  al- 
so may  he  crucified  with  Christ,  ( Gal.  ii. 
20.)  at  least  in  penitential  remorse,  and  af- 
fectionate sympathy.  That  I  may  know 
the  fellowship  of  his  sufferings,  (Phil.  iii. 
10.)  and  feel  all  my  evil  affections  wounded 
by  his  agonies,  mortified  by  his  death. 

There  is  another  subject  of  the  verdant 
kingdom,  wmch,  on  account  of  its  very  un- 
common qualities,  demands  my  particular 
notice.  One  so  extremely  difHdent  in  her 
disposition,  and  delicate  in  her  constitution, 
that  she  dares  not  venture  herself  abroad  in 
the  open  air,  but  is  nursed  up  in  the  warmth 
of  a  hot-bed,  and  lives  cloistered  in  the 
cells  of  a  green-house.  But  the  most  cu- 
rious peculiarity  is,  that  of  all  her  kindred 
species,  she  alone  partakes  of  perceptive  life ; 
at  least,  advances  nearest  to  this  more  ex- 
alted state  of  being,  and  may  be  looked  up- 
on as  the  link  which  connects  the  animal 
and  the  vegetable  world.  A  stranger  ob- 
serving her  motions,  would  almost  be  in- 
duced to  suspect  that  she  is  endued  with 
some  inferior  degrees  of  consciousness  and 
caution  :  For,  if  you  offer  to  handle  this 
sensitive  plant,  she  immediately  takes  the 
alarm,  hastily  contracts  her  fibres,  and,  like 
a  person  under  apprehensions  of  violence, 
withdraws  from  your  finger  in  a  khid  of 
precipitate  disorder.  Perhaps  the  beauty 
of  her  aspect  might  be  sullied,  or  the  nice- 
ness  of  her  texture  discomposed,  by  the 
human  touch.  Therefore,  like  a  coy  virgin, 
she  recedes  fi-om  all  unbecoming  familiari- 
ties, and  will  admit  no  such  improper,  if 
not  pernicious  freedoms. 

Whatever  be  the  cause  of  this  unusual 
effect,  it  suggests  an  instructive  admonition 
to  the  Christian.  Such  should  be  our  ap- 
prehensive timorous  care  with  regard  to  sin, 
and  all,  even  the  most  distant  approaches 
of  vice.  So  should  we  avoid  the  very  ap- 
peai'ance  of  evil,  and  stand  aloof  from  every 
occasion  of  falling.  If  sinners  entice,  if 
forbidden  pleasures  tempt,  or  if  opportuni- 
ty beckon,  with  the  gain  of  injustice  in  her 
liand,  O  !  turn  from  the  gilded  snare  ;  touch 
not  the  beauteous  bane  ;  but  fly,  fly  with 
haste,  fly  without  any  delay,  from  the  be- 
witching niin.  Does  anger  draw  near  with 
her  lighted  torch,  to  kindle  the  flame  of  re- 
sentment in  our  breasts ''.  Does  flattery  ply 
our  ears  with  her  enchanting  and  intoxicat- 
ing whispers?  would  discontent  lay  her 
leaden  hand  upon  our  temi)er,  and  mould 
into  our  minds  her  sour  leaven,  in  order  to 
make  us  a  burden  to  ourselves,  and  unami- 
nble  to  others  ?  Instantly  let  us  divert  our 
attention  from  the  dangerous  objects  ;  and 
not  so  much  endeavour  to  antidote  as  to 


shun  the  moral  contagion.  Let  us  revolve 
in  our  meditations  that  wonderful  meekness 
of  our  distressed  IMaster,  which,  amidst  the 
most  abusive  and  provoking  insults,  main- 
tained an  uniform  tenor  of  unshaken  sereni- 
ty. Let  us  contemplate  that  ])rodigious 
humiliation,  which  brought  him,  from  an  in- 
finite height  above  all  worlds,  to  make  his 
bed  in  the  dust  of  death.  Let  us  sootlie 
our  jarring,  our  uneasy  passions,  with  the 
remembrance  of  that  cheeriidness  and  re- 
signation, which  rendered  him  in  the  deep- 
est poverty,  unfeignedly  thankful,  and  un- 
der the  heaviest  tribulations,  most  submis- 
sively patient. 

Harbour  not,  on  any  consideration,  the 
betrayer  of  your  virtue.  Always  mainta'r 
a  holy  sensibility  of  soul.  Be  deaf,  inflex 
ibly  deaf,  to  every  beguiling  solicitation.  ] . 
it  obtrude  into  the  unguarded  heart,  give  it  no 
entertainment,  no,  not  for  a  moment.  Tt^ 
parley  with  the  enemy,  is  to  open  a  door 
for  destruction.  Our  safety  consists  in 
flight ;  and,  in  this  case,  suspicion  is  the 
truest  prudence ;  fear,  the  greatest  bra- 
very. Play  not  on  the  brink  of  the  pre- 
cipice ;  flutter  not  around  the  edges  of  the 
flame.  Dally  not  with  the  stings  of  death. 
But  reject,  with  a  becoming  mixture  of  so- 
licitude and  abhorrence,  the  very  first  insin- 
uations of  iniquity  as  cautiously  as  tlie  smart- 
ing sore  shrinks  even  from  the  softest  hand, 
as  constantly  as  this  jealous  plant  recoils 
the  approaching  touch.* 

Not  long  ago,  these  curious  productions 
of  the  spring  were  coarse  and  misshapen 
roots.  Had  we  opened  the  earth,  and  be- 
held them  in  their  seed,  how  uncouth  and 
contemptible  had  their  appearance  been ! 
But  now  they  are  the  boast  of  nature,  the 
delights  of  the  sons  of  men,  finished  pat- 
terns for  enamelling  and  embroidery,  out- 
shining even  the  happiest  strokes  of  the 
pencil.     They  are  taught   to   bloom,  but 


•  The  prophet  Isaiah,  in  an  elegant  and  lively  de- 
scription of  the  upright  man,  says,  "  He  shaketh  his 
hands  from  holding  of  bribes ;"  and,  I  may  add,  from 
practising  any  kind  of  iniquity.  The  image,  exceed- 
ingly beautiful  and  equally  expressive,  both  illus- 
trates and  enforces  the  doctrine  of  this  whole  section. 
— Shaketh  his  hands,  just  as  a  person  would  do,  who 
happens  to  have  burning  coals  fall  into  his  lap,  or 
some  venomous  creature  fastening  upon  his  tlcsh. 
In  such  a  case,  none  would  stand  a  moment  to  con- 
sider, or  to  debate  with  himself  the  expediency  of  the 
thing,  he  would  instantly  (ling  otf  the  pernicious  in- 
cumbrance, instantly  endeavour  to  disengage  him- 
self from  the  clinging  mischief.     Isa,  xxxiii.'lS. 

I  have  represented  the  danger  of  not  extinguishing 
immediately  the  very  first  sparks  of  temptation,  in  a 
variety  of  views,  lecause  a  proper  behaviour  in  this 
conjuncture,  is  of  such  vast  importance  to  the  puri- 
ty, the  safety,  and  the  comfort  of  our  minds.  Be- 
cause I  had  the  royal  moralist  in  my  eye,  who,  deter- 
ring his  pupils  from  the  path  of  the  wicked,  cries  with 
an  air  ot  deep  concern,  and  in  the  language  of  vehe- 
ment im])ortunity,  cries.  Avoid  it;  pass  "not  by  it; 
turn  from  it,  and  pass  away.  How  strongly  is  the 
counsel  urged,  by  being  so  frequently  rejieated,  in 
such  a  remarkable  diversity  of  concise  and  abrupt, 
consequently  of  forcible  and  pressing  admonitions 
I'rov.  iv.  15. 


REFLECTIONS   ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


50 

with  a  very  inferior  lustre,*  in  the  richest 
tapestries  and  most  magnificent  silks.  Art 
never  attempts  to  equal  their  incomparable 
elegancies  ;  but  places  all  her  merit  in  copy- 
ing after  these  delicate  originals.  Even 
those  who  glitter  in  silver,  or  whose  cloth- 
ing is  wrought  of  gold,  are  desirous  to  bor- 
row additional  ornaments  from  a  sprig  of 
jessamine,  or  a  little  assemblage  of  pinks. 

What  a  fine  idea  may  we  form  from 
hence,  of  the  resurrection  of  the  just,  and 
the  state  of  their  re-animated  bodies  !  As 
the  roots  even  of  our  choicest  flowers,  when 
deposited  in  the  ground,  are  rude  and  un- 
graceful ;  but  when  they  spring  up  into 
blooming  life,  are  most  elegant  and  splen- 
did ;  so  the  flesh  of  a  saint,  when  commit- 
ted to  the  dust,  alas!  what  is  it?  A  heap 
of  corruption  ;  a  mass  of  putrefying  clay. 
But  when  it  obeys  the  great  arch-angel's 
call,  and  starts  into  a  new  existence,  what 
an  astonishing  change  ensues !  what  a  most 
ennobling  improvement  takes  place  !  That 
which  was  sown  in  weakness  is  raised  in 
all  the  vivacity  of  power.  That  which  was 
sown  in  deformity,  is  raised  in  the  bloom 
of  celestial  beauty.  Exalted,  refined,  and 
glorified,  it  wUl  shine  "  as  the  brightness 
of  the  firmament,"  when  it  darts  the  inimi- 
table blue,  through  the  fleeces, — the  snowy 
fleeces,  of  some  cleaving  cloud. 

Fear  not,  then,  thou  faithfid  Christian  ; 
fear  not,  at  the  appointed  time,  to  descend 
into  the  tomb.  Thy  soul  thooi  mayest  trust 
with  thy  omnipotent  Redeemer,  who  is 
Lord  of  the  unseen  world  ;  "  who  has  the 
keys  of  hell  and  of  death."  Most  safely  thou 
mayest  trust  thy  better  part,  in  those  bene- 
ficent hands,  which  were  pierced  with  nails, 
and  fastened  to  the  ignominious  tree,  for 
thy  salvation.  With  regard  to  thy  earthly 
tabernacle  be  not  dismayed :  it  is  taken 
down  only  to  be  rebuilt  upon  a  diviner  plan, 
and  in  a  more  heavenly  form.  If  it  retires 
into  the  shadow  of  death,  and  lies  immured 
in  the  gloom  of  the  grave,  it  is  only  to  re- 
turn from  a  short  confinement  to  endless 
liberty.  If  it  falls  into  dissolution,  it  is  in 
order  to  rise  more  illustrious  from  its  ruins ; 
and  wear  an  infinitely  brighter  face  of  per- 
fection and  of  glory.f 

Having  now  made  my  panegyric,  let  me 
next  take  up  a  lamentation  for  these  love- 
liest productions  of  the  vegetable  world. 
For  I  foresee  their  approaching  doom  :  Yet 
a  little  while,  and  all  these  pleasing  scenes 


*  The  cowslip  smiles  in  brighter  yellow  drest, 
Than  that  which  veils  the  nubil  virgin's  breast  I 
A  fairer  red  stands  blushing  in  the  rose, 
Than  that  which  on  the  bridegroom's  vestment  flows. 

Pyio7\ 

t  The  wise,  the  just,  the  pious,  and  the  brave, 
Live  in  their  deaths,  and  flourish  from  tlie  grave, 
Grain  hid  in  earth,  repays  the  peasant's  care, 
And  ev'ning  suns  set  but' to  rise  more  fair 


vanish  ;  yet  a  little  while,  and  all  the  sweets 
ofthe  breathing,  all  thebeauties  of  the  bloom- 
ing spring  are  no  more.  Every  one  of 
these  amiable  forms  must  be  shrivelled  to 
deformity,  and  trodden  to  the  earth. — Sig- 
nificant resemblance  this  of  all-created 
beauty.  All  flesh  is  grass  ;  like  the  green 
herbage  liable  and  prone  to  fade.  Nay,  all 
the  goodliness  thereof,  its  fine  accomplish- 
ments, and  what  the  world  universally  ad- 
mires, is  as  the  floM'er  ofthe  field,  (Isa.  xl- 
6.)  which  looses  its  gloss,  decays,  and  per- 
ishes morespeedilythanthe  grass  itself.  Be- 
hold, then,  ye  brightest  among  the  daugh- 
ters of  Eve;  behold  yotu'selves  in  this 
glass.  See  the  charms  of  your  Persian 
eclipsed,  by  the  lustre  of  these  little  flow- 
ers, and  the  frailty  of  your  state  represent- 
ed by  their  transient  glories.*  A  fever 
may  scorch  those  polished  veins ;  a  con- 
sumption may  emaciate  the  dimpling  cheeks ; 
and  a  load  of  unexpected  sorrows  depress 
those  lively  spirits.  Or,  should  these  dis- 
asters, in  pity,  spare  the  tender  frame  ;  ye£ 
age,  inexorable  age,  and  wrinkles  will  assiu- 
edly  come  at  last ;  -will  wither  all  the  fine 
features,  and  blast  every  sprightly  grace. 

Then,  ye  fair,  when  those  sparkling  eyes 
are  darkened,  and  sink  in  their  orbs,  when 
they  are  rolling  m  agonies,  and  swimming 
in  death, — how  wiU  you  sustain  the  afiiic- 
tion  ?  how  will  you  repair  the  loss  ?  Ap- 
ply your  thoughts  to  religion  ;  attend  to 
the  one  thing  needfid.  Believe  in,  and 
imitate  the  blessed  Jesus ;  then  shall  your 
soifls  mount  up  to  the  realms  of  happiness, 
when  the  well-proportioned  clay  is  mingled 
with  its  mean  original.  The  light  of  God's 
countenance  will  irradiate,  with  matchless 
and  consummate  perfection,  all  their  exalt- 
ed faculties.  Cleansed  entirely  from  every 
dreg   of   corruption,  like    some    unsullied 


*  The  reader  will  excuse  me,  if  I  imitate  rather 
than  translate  the  following  lines  from  Theocritus  ; 
if  I  vary  one  image,  add  another,  and  give  a  new 
turn  to  the  whole. 

When  snows  descend,  and  robe  the  fields 

In  winter's  bright  array ; 
Touch'd  by  the  sun  the  lustre  fades. 

And  weeps  itself  away. 
When  spring  appears ;  when  violets  blow. 

And  shed  a  rich  perfume. 
How  soon  the  fragrance  breathes  its  last. 

How  short-liv'd  is  the  bloom  ! 
Fresh  in  the  morn  the  summer  rose 

Hangs  with'ring  ere  'tis  noon. 
We  scarce  enjoy  the  balmy  gift, 

But  mourn  the  pleasure  gone. 
With  gliding  fire,  an  ev'ning  star 

Streaks  the  autumnal  skies, 
Shook  from  the  sphere,  it  darts  away. 

And  in  an  instant  dies. 
Such  are  the  charms  that  flush  the  cl'.eeii. 

And  sparkle  in  the  eye; 
So,  from  that  lovely  finish'd  form 

The  transient  graces  fly. 
To  this  the  seasons,  as  they  roll. 

Their  attestations  bring ; 
They  warn  the  fair ;  their  ev'ry  rouud, 

(.'oafirras  the  truth  1  sing. 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A  FLOWER-GARDEN. 


mirror,  they  will  reflect  the  complete  image 
of  their  Creator's  holiness.  O  !  that  you 
would  thus  dress  your  minds,  and  prepare 
for  the  immortal  state  !  Then  from  shining 
among  your  fellow-creatures  on  earth,  you 
shall  be  translated,  to  shine  around  the 
throne  of  God.  Then  from  the  sweetness 
of  oiu"  life,  and  the  delight  of  our  eyes  here 
below,  you  shall  pass,  by  an  easy  transition, 
into  angels  of  light ;  and  become  "  an  ever- 
lasting excellency,  the  joy  of  all  genera- 
tions." Yes;  ye  flowery  nations  ye  must 
all  decay.  Yonder  lily  that  looks  like  the 
queen  of  the  gay  creation  ;  see,  how  grace- 
fully it  erects  its  majestic  head  !  What  an  air 
of  dignity  and  grandeur  ennobles  its  aspect ! 
For  elevated  mien,  as  well  as  for  incom- 
parable lustre,  justly  may  it  be  preferred  to 
the  magnificent  monarch  of  the  cast.  (  Mat. 
vi.  29. )  But  all  stately,  and  charming  as 
it  is,  it  will  hardly  survive  a  few  more  days  ; 
that  unspotted  whiteness  must  quickly  be 
tarnished,  and  the  snowy  form  defiled  in 
the  dust. 

As  the  lily  pleases  with  the  noble  simpli- 
city of  its  appearance,  the  tulip  is  admired 
for  the  gaiety  and  multiplicity  of  its  colours. 
What  a  profusion  of  dyes  adorn  its  painted 
cup  !  Its  tinges  are  so  glowing,  its  contrasts 
so  strong,  and  the  arrangement  of  them  both 
so  elegant  and  artful ! — It  was  lately  the 
pride  of  the  border,  and  the  reigning  beauty 
of  the  delightful  season.  As  exquisitely 
fine  as  the  rainbow,  and  almost  as  extreme 
ly  transient  ;  it  spread  for  a  little  moment 
its  glittering  plumage,  but  has  now  laid  all 
its  variegated  and  superior  honours  down. 
Those  radiant  stripes  arc  blended,  alas  ! 
rudely  blended,  with  common  mould. 

To  a  gracefid  shape  and  blooming  com- 
plexion, the  rose  adds  the  most  agreeable 
perfume.  Our  nostrils  make  it  repeated 
visits,  and  are  never  weary  of  drinking  in  its 
sweets.  A  fragrance  so  peculiarly  rich  and 
reviving  transpires  from  its  opening  tufts, 
that  every  one  covets  its  acquaintance. 
How  have  I  seen  even  the  accomplished 
Clarissa,  for  whom  so  many  votaries  lan- 
guish, fondly  caressing  this  little  flower. 
That  lovely  bosom,  wliich  is  the  seat  of  in- 
nocence and  virtue  ;  whose  least  excellency 
it  is  to  rival  the  delicacy  of  the  purest  snows, 
among  a  thousand  charms  of  its  own,  tliinks 
it  possible  to  adopt  another  from  the  da- 
mask rose-bud — Yet  even  this  universal 
favourite  must  fail.  Its  native  balm  can- 
not preserve  it  from  putrefaction.  Soon, 
soon  must  it  resign  all  those  endearing  qua- 
lities, and  hang  neglected  on  its  stem,  or 
drop  despised  to  the  ground. 

One  coidd  wish,  metliinks,  these  most 
amiable  of  the  inanimate  race,  a  longer  ex- 
istence, but  in  vain,  they  fade  almost  as  soon 
as  they  flourish  ;  within  less  than  a  month 
their  glories  are  extinct.     Let  the  sun  take 


.51 

a  few  more  journeys  through  the  sky  ;  then 
visit  this  enchanting  walk,  and  you  will  find 
nothing  but  a  wretched  wilderness  of  ragged 

or  naked  stalks But  (my  soul  exidts  in 

the  thought)  the  garment  of  celestial  glory 
which  shall  ere  long  array  the  re-animated 
body,  will  never  wax  old,  the  illustrious 
robes  of  a  Saviour's  consummate  righteous- 
ness, which  are  appointed  to  deck  the  justi- 
fied spirit,  are  incorruptible  and  immortal. 
No  moth  can  corrode  their  textui'e,  no  num- 
ber of  ages  sully  their  brightness.  The 
light  of  day  may  be  quenched,  and  all  the 
stars  sink  in  obscurity  ;  but  the  honours  of 
"just  men  made  perfect"  are  subject  to  no 
diminution,  inextinguishing  and  unfading  is 
the  lustre  of  their  croNvni. 

Yes,  ye  flowery  nations,  ye  must  all  de- 
cay.— Winter,  like  some  enraged  and  irre- 
sistible conqueror,  that  carries  fire  and 
sword  wherever  he  advances,  that  demolish- 
es towns,  depopulates  countries,  spreads 
slaughter  and  desolation  on  every  side  ;  so, 
just  so,  will  Winter  with  his  savage  and  un- 
relenting blasts  invade  this  beautiful  pros- 
pect. The  storms  are  gathering,  and  the 
tempest  mustering  their  rage  to  fall  upon 
the  vegetable  kingdoms.  They  will  ravage 
through  the  dominions  of  nature,  and  plun- 
der her  riches  and  lay  waste  her  charms 

Then  ye  trees,  must  ye  stand  stript  of  your 
verdant  apparel  ;  and  ye  fields  be  spoiled  of 
your  waving  treasures.  Then  the  earth, 
disrobed  of  all  her  gay  attire,  must  sit  in  sa- 
bles, like  a  disconsolate  widow.  The  sun 
too,  who  now  rides  in  triumph  round  the 
world,  and  scatters  gaiety  from  his  radiant 
eye,  will  then  look  faintly  from  the  windows 
of  the  South  ;  and,  casting  a  short  glance  on 
our  dejected  world,  will  leave  us  to  the  un- 
comfortable gloom  of  tedious  nights Then 

these  pretty  choristers  of  the  air  will  chant 
no  more  to  the  gentle  gales  ;  the  lark,  the 
linnet,  and  all  the  feathered  songsters  aban- 
don their  notes,  and  indulge  theii-  woes. 
The  harmony  of  the  woods  is  at  an  end  ; 
and  silence,  (unless  it  be  interrupted  by 
howling  winds)  sullen  silence  sits  brooding 
upon  the  boughs  which  are  now  made  vocal 
by  a  thousand  Warbling  throats. 

But  (sweet  recollection  !  ra\ashLng  ex- 
pectation ! )  the  songs  of  saints  in  light  ne- 
ver admit  a  pause  for  sadness.  All  heaven 
will  resoiuid  with  the  melody  of  their  grati- 
tude ;  and  all  eternity  echo  to  their  trium- 
phal acclamations.  The  hallelujahs  of  that 
world,  and  the  harmonious  joy  of  its  inhabi- 
tants, will  be  as  lasting  as  the  divine  per- 
fections they  celebrate Come  then,  holy 

love,  and  tune  my  heart,  descend,  celestial 
fire,  and  touch  my  tongue,  that  I  may  stand 
ready  to  strike  up  and  bear  my  part,  in  that 
great  hosaima,  that  everlasting  hymn. 

Yes,  yes,  ye  flowery  nations,  ye  must  all 
decay.     And,  indeed,  could  you   add  the 


.52 


REFLECTIONS  ON  A   FLOWER-GARDEN. 


strength  of  an  oak,  or  the  stability  of  a  pyra- 
mid,* to  all  the  delicacy  of  your  texture  ; 
yet  short,  exceeding  short,  even  then,  would 
your  duration  be.  For  I  see  that  all  things 
come  to  an  end.  The  pillars  of  nature  are 
tottering ;  the  foundations  of  the  round 
world  are  falling  away  ;  the  "  heavens 
themselves  wax  old  like  a  garment." 
But,  amidst  these  views  of  general  ruin, 
here  is  our  refuge  ;  this  is  our  consolation ; 
we  know  that  our  Redeemer  liveth.  Thy 
years,  blessed  Jesus,  shall  not  fail.  From 
everlasting  to  everlasting,  thou  art  still  the 
same  ;  the  same  most  excellent  and  adora- 
ble person  ;  the  same  omnipotent  and  faith- 
ful friend,  the  same  aU-sufficient  and  in- 
estimable portion.  O  !  may  we  but  partake 
of  thy  merits,  be  sanctiiied  by  thy  grace, 
and  received  into  thy  glory  !  Then,  perish 
if  ye  will,  all  inferior  delights.  Let  all 
that  is  splendid  in  the  skies  expire,  and  all 
that  is  amiable  in  nature  be  expunged.  Let 
the  whole  extent  of  creation  be  turned  again 
into  one  indistinguishable  void,  one  universal 
blank.  Yet,  if  God  be  ours,  we  shall  have 
enough ;  if  God  be  ours,  we  shall  have  all 
and  abound  ;f  all  that  our  circumstances 
can  want,  or  our  wishes  crave,  to  make  us 
inconceivably  blessed  and  happy  :  blessed 
and  happy  not  only  through  this  little  inter- 
val of  time,  but  through  the  unmeasiu-ahle 
revolutions  of  eternity. 

The  sun  is  now  come  forth  in  his  strength, 
and  beats  fiercely  upon  my  throbbing  pulse. 
Let  me  retire  to  yonder  inviting  arbour. 
There  the  woodbine  retains  the  lucid  drop  ; 
tbere  the  jessamines,  which  hue  the  ver- 
dant alcove,  are  still  impearled,  and  deli- 
ciously  wet  with  dews.  Welcome,  ye  re- 
freshing shades  !  I  feel,  I  feel  your  cheering 
influence.  My  languid  spirits  revive ;  the 
slackened  sinews  are  new  strung  ;  and  life 
bounds  brisker  through  all  her  crimson 
channels. 

Reclined  on  this  mossy  couch,  and  sur- 
rounded by  this  fragrant  coolness,  let  me 
renew  my  aspirations  to  the  ever-present 


*  I  know  not  any  performance,  in  w)iich  the  tran- 
sitory nature  of  these  most  durable  monuments  of 
human  grandeur,  is  hinted  with  such  a  modest  air  of 
instruction,  or  their  liideous  ruin  described  in  siidi  a 
pomp  of  pleasing  horror,  as  in  a  small  but  solemn 
picturesque  and  majestic  poem,  entitled.  The  Ruins 
of  Rome,  written  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dyer,  whom  the 
reader  (if  he  has  the  pleasure  of  perusing  that  beau- 
tiful piece)  will  easily  perceive  to  have  taken  his 
draughts  from  the  originals  themselves,  as  nothing 
but  the  si^ht  of  thosemagnificent  remains  could  have 
inspired  his  lines  with  such  vivacity.  As  a  specimen 
of  the  work,  and  a  confirmation  of  the  remark  sug- 
gested above,  I  take  leave  to  transcribe  the  following 
passage : — 

The  pilgrim  oft, 

At  dead  of  night,  'mid  his  orison  hears 
Aghast  the  voice  of  time-disparting  tow'rs. 
Tumbling  all  precipitate  down  dash'd. 
Rattling  around,  loud  thundering  to  the  moon. 
I  His  and  the  good  man  fastens  on  the  skies, 
And  bids  earth  roll,  nor  feels  the  idle  whirl. 

A'l'i'/ie  Thoughts,  No.  iv . 


Deity.  Here  let  me  remember,  and  imi- 
tate, the  pious  Augustine,  and  his  mother 
]\Ionica  ;  who,  being  engaged  in  discourse 
on  the  beauties  of  the  visible  creation,  rose 
by  these  ladders  to  the  glories  of  the  invisible 
state,  till  they  were  inspired  with  the  most 
affecting  sense  of  their  supereminent  excel- 
lency, and  actuated  with  the  most  ardent 
breathings  after  their  full  enjoyment.  In- 
somuch that  they  were  almost  wrapt  up  into 
the  bliss  they  contemplated  ;  and  scarce 
"  knew  whether  they  were  in  the  body  or 
out  of  the  body." 

When  tempests  toss  the  ocean,  when 
plaintive  signals  of  distress  are  heard,  from 
the  bellowing  deep,  and  melancholy  tokens 
of  shipwreck  come  floating  on  the  foaming 
surge  ;  then  how  delightfid  to  stand  safe  on 
shore,  and  hug  one's  self  in  conscious  secu- 
rity !*  WTien  a  glut  of  waters  burst  from 
some  mighty  torrent,  rushes  headlong  over 
all  the  neighbouring  plains,  sweeps  away 
the  helpless  cattle,  and  drives  the  afl^righted 
shepherd  from  his  hut ;  then,  from  the  top 
of  a  distant  eminence,  to  descry  the  danger 
we  need  not  fear :  how  pleasing  !  Such, 
methinks,  is  my  present  situation.  For 
now,  the  sun  blazes  from  on  high ;  the  air 
glows  A\ith  his  fire,  the  fields  are  rent 
with  chinks ;  the  roads  are  scorched  to 
dust ;  the  woods  seem  to  contract  a  sickly 
aspect,  and  a  russet  hue  j  the  traveller,  broil- 
ed as  he  rides,  hastens  to  his  inn,  and  in- 
termits his  joiu'ney ;  the  labourer,  bathed 
in  sweat,  drops  the  scythe,  and  desists  from 
his  work ;  the  cattle  fly  to  some  shady  co- 
vert, or  else  pant  and  toss  under  the  burn- 
ing noon.  Even  the  stubborn  rock,  smit 
with  the  piercing  beams,  is  ready  to  cleave. 
All  things  languish  beneath  the  dazzling 
deluge.  While  I  shall  enjoy  a  cool  hour^ 
and  calm  reflection  amidst  the  gloom  of 
tills  bowery  recess  which  scarce  admits  one 
speck  of  simshine. 

Thus  may  both  the  flock  and  their  shep- 
herd, dwell  beneath  thedefenceof  the  Most 
High,  and  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty.  (Psal.  xci.  1.)  Then,  though 
the  pestilencef  walketh  in  darkness,  and 
the  sickness  destroyeth  at  noon-day  ;  though 
thousands  fall  beside  us,  and  ten  thousands 
at  our  right  hand,  we  need  fear  no  evil ; 
either  the  destroying  angel  shall  pass  over 
our  houses,  or  else  he  shall  dispense  the 
corrections  of  a  friend,  not  the  scourges  of 
an  enemy,   which,   instead   of  hmting  us. 


•  As  Lucretius  gave  the  hint  for  these  observa- 
tions, so  he  assigns  the  reason  of  the  pleasure  speci- 
fied. It  arises,  not  from  the  consideration  of  another's 
misery  ;  this  would  argue  the  rankest  malevolencei 
but  frum  the  agreeable  contemplation  of  our  own 
personal  safety,  which  while  we  view  the  circum- 
stances that  are  pernicious  to  others,  but  harmless  to 
ourselves,  is  not  a  little  heightened  by  the  contrast. 
— Suavs  mari  magno,  &c. 

t  This  was  written  when  a  very  infectious  and  mor* 
tal  distemper  raged  in  the  neiglibourhood. 


REFLECTIONS   ON   A   FLOWER-GARDEX. 


^3 


fTnall  work  for  our  good Then,  though 

profaueness  and  infidelity,  far  more  malig- 
nant evils,  breathe  deadly  contagion,  and 
taints  the  morals  of  multitudes  around  us  ; 
yet  if  the  great  Father  of  spirits  hide  us  in 
llie  hollow  of  his  hand,  we  shall  hold  fast 
our  integrity  and  be  faithful  unto  death. 

Let  then,  dearest  Lord,  O  let  thy  servant, 
and  the  people  committed  to  his  care,  be  re- 
ceived into  thy  protection.  Let  us  take 
sanctuary  under  that  tree  of  life,  erected  in 
thy  ignominious  cross  ;  let  us  fly  for  safety 
to  that  City  of  Refuge,  opened  in  thy 
bleeding  wounds.  These  shall  be  a  sacred 
hiding-place,  not  to  be  pierced  by  the  flames 
of  divine  wrath,  or  the  fiery  darts  of  temp- 
tation. Thy  dying  merits  and  perfect  obe- 
dience, shall  be  to  onr  souls  as  rivers  of  wa- 
ter in  a  diy  place,  or  as  the  shadow  of  a 
great  rock  in  a  weary  land.  (Isa.  xxxii.  2.) 
But  most  of  all,  in  that  last  tremendous 
day,  when  the  heavens  are  rent  asimder  and 
^\Tapt  up  like  a  scroll  ;  when  thy  almighty 
arm  shall  arrest  the  sini  in  his  career,  and 
dash  to  pieces  the  structure  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  when  the  dead,  both  small  and 
great,  shall  be  gathered  before  the  throne  of 
thy  glory;  and  the  fates  of  all  mankind  hang 
on  the  very  point  of  a  final  irreversible  de- 
cision— then,  blessed  Jesus,  let  us  be  own- 
«d  by  thee,  and  we  shall  not  be  ashamed  : 
defended  by  thee,  and  we  shall  not  be  afraid. 
O  may  we,  at  that  awful  and  tmutterable 
important  junctiu-e,  be  covered  with  the 
wings  of  tby  redeeming  love  ;  and  we  shall 
behold  all  the  horrible  convulsions  of  ex- 
piring nature  with  composure,  with  com- 
fort !  ^Ve  sliall  even  welcome  the  dissolu- 
tion of  all  things,  as  the  times  of  refreshing 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord.  (Acts  iii. 
19.) 

There  are,  I  perceive,  who  still  attend 
the  flowers  ;  and  in  defiance  of  the  sun,  ply 
their  work  on  every  expanded  blossom. 
The  bees  I  mesm,  that  nation  of  chemists  ! 
to  whom  nature  has  communicated  the  rai'e 
smd  valuable  secret,  of  enriching  themselves 
without  impoverishing  others  ;  who  extract 
the  most  delicious  synip  from  every  fragrant 
herb,  without  wounding  its  substance,  or  di- 
minishing its  odours 1  take  the  more  no- 
tice of  these  ingenious  operators,  because  I 
would  willingly  make  them  my  pattern.* 
While  the  gay  butterfly  flutters  her  painted 
wings,  and  sips  a  little  fantastic  delight  on- 
ly for  the  present  moment  ;  while  the 
gloomy  spider,  worse  than  idly  busied,  is 
preparing  his  insidious  nets  for  destruction, 
iir  sucking  venom  even  from  tlie  most 
wholesome  plants  ;   this  frugal  conununity 


•  Ego  apis  fnatine 

More  modociue 
(Jrata  carjicntis  rhyina. — Hor. 


are  wisely  employed  in  providing  for  futur- 
ity, and  collecting  a  copious  stock  of  the 
most  balmy  treasures — And  oh  !  might 
these  meditations  sink  into  my  soul  ! 
would  the  God  who  suggested  each  heaven- 
ly thought,  vouchsafe  to  convert  it  into  an 
established  principle  to  determine  all  my  in- 
clinations and  regulate  my  whole  conduct  ! 
I  should  then  gather  advantages  from  the 
same  blooming  objects,  more  precious  than 
your  golden  stores,  ye  industrious  artists,  I 
also  should  go  home  laden  with  the  richest 
sweets  and  the  noblest  spoil,  though  I  crop 
not  a  leaf  nor  call  a  single  flower  my  own. 

Here  I  behold  assembled  in  one  view,  al- 
most all  the  various  beauties,  which  have 
been  severally  entertaining  my  imagination . 
The  vistas  struck  through  an  ancient  wood, 
or  formed  by  rows  of  venerable  elms,  con- 
ducting the  spectator's  observation  to  some 
remarkable  object,  or  leading  t-lie  traveller's 

footsteps  to  this  delightful  seat The  walls 

enriched  with  fruit  trees,  and  faced  with  a 
covering  of  their  leafy  extensions,  I  should 
rather  have  said,  hung  with  different  pieces 
of  nature's  noblest  tapestry  : — The  walks 
neatly  shorn,  and  lined  with  verdure,  or 
finely  smoothed  and  coated  with  gravel  :  — 
The  alleys  arched  with  shades  to  embower 
our  noon-tide  repose,  or  thrown  open  for 
the  free  accession  of  air,  to  invite  us  to  our 
evening  recreation  : — The  decent  edgings 
of  box,  which  inclose  Uke  a  plain  selvage 
each  beautiful  compartment,  and  its  splen- 
did figures  : — The  shapely  evergreens  and 
flowery  shrubs  which  strike  the  eye,  and  ap- 
pear with  peculiar  dignity  in  this  distant  si- 
tuation : — The  bason  with  its  crystal  foimt, 
floating  in  the  centre,  and  diffusing  an  agree- 
able freshness  through  the  whole  : — The 
waters  falling  from  a  remote  cascade,  and 
gently  murmuring  as  they  flow  along  the 
pebbles  : — These  added  to  the  rest,  and  all 
so  disposed  that  eacb  recommends  and  en- 
dears each,  renders  the  whole  a  most  sweet 
ravishing  scene,  of  order  and  variety,  of  ele- 
gance and  magnificence. 

From  so  many  lovely  prospects  cluster- 
ing upon  the  sight,  it  is  impossible  not  to 
be  reminded  of  heaven,  that  world  of  bliss, 
those  regions  of  light,  where  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain,  manifests  his  beatific  presence,  ' 
and  his  saints  live  for  evermore.  Rut,  O  ! 
what  pencil  can  sketch  out  a  draught  of  that 
goodly  land  !  what  colours  or  what  style  can 
express  the  splendours  of  Innnanuel's  king- 
dom ?  Would  some  celestial  hand  draw  aside 
tlie  veil  but  for  a  moment,  and  permit  us  to 
throw  a  single  glance  on  those  divine  abodes, 
liow  would  all  sublunary  possessions  become 
tarnished  in  our  eyes,  and  grow  flat  upon 
our  taste  ?  A  glimpse,  a  transient  glimpse 
of  those  uiuitterable  beatitudes,  would  cap- 
tivate our  souls,  and  ingross  all  their  facul- 
ties.    Eden  itself,  after  such  a  vision,  would 


34 


A  DESCANT  UPON  CREATION. 


appear  a   cheerless  desert,   and  all  earthly 
charms,  intolerable  deformity. 

Very  excellent  things  are  spoken  of  thee, 
thou  city  of  God.  (  Psalm  lxxx\ai.  2. )  Vol- 
umes have  been  written,  and  those  by  in- 
spired men,  to  display  the  wonders  of  thy 
perfections.  All  that  is  rich  and  splendid 
in  the  visible  creation,  has  been  called  in  to 
aid  our  conceptions  and  elevate  our  ideas. 
But  indeed  no  tongue  can  utter,  no  pen  can 
describe,  no  fancy  can  imagine,  what  God 
of  his  unbounded  munificence,  has  prepar- 
ed for  them  that  love  him. — Seeing  then, 
that  all  teiTestrial  things  must  come  to  a 
speedy  end,  and  there  remaineth  a  rest, 
such  a  blissful  and  everlasting  rest  for 
the  people  of  God,  let  me  never  be  too 
fondly  attached  to  my  jiresent  satisfactions. 
Weaned  from  whatever  is  temporal,  may  I 
maintain  a  superior  indifference  for  such 
transitory  enjoyments,   but  long,  long  ear- 


nestly for  the  mansions  that  are  above ;  tbe 
paradise  "  which  the  Lord  hath  planted  and 
not  man."  Thither  may  I  transmit  the 
chief  of  my  conversation,  and  from  thence 
expect  the  whole  of  my  happiness.  Be 
that  the  sacred  powerful  magnet,  which 
ever  influences  my  heart,  ever  attracts  my 
affections.  There  are  such  transcendent 
glories,  as  eye  has  not  seen  ;  there  are  suck 
transporting  pleasures,  as  ear  has  not  heard ; 
there  is  such  a  fulness  of  joys,  as  the  thought 
of  man  cannot  conceive. 

Into  tliat  consummate  felicity,  those  eter- 
nal fruitions,  permit  me.  Madam,  to  wish 
you  in  due  time,  an  abundant  entrance  ;  and 
to  assure  you  that  this  wish  is  breathed  with 
the  same  sincerity  and  ardour,  for  my  hon- 
oured correspondent,  as  it  is  Madam,  for 
Your  most  obedient,  &c. 
J.  HERVEY. 


DESCANT 


rpoN 


CREATION. 


If  tte  reader  please  to  look  back  on  page 
42,  he  will  find  me  engaged  by  a  promis- 
sory note,  to  subjoin  a  Descant  upon  Crea- 
tion. 

To  know  the  love  of  Christ,  to  have  such 
a  deep  apprehension  of  his  unspeakable 
kindness  as  may  produce  in  our  hearts  an 
adoring  gratitude  and  an  unfeigned  faith  ; 
tins,  according  to  St.  Paid's  estimate,  is  the 
highest  and  happiest  attainment  in  the  sa- 
cred science  of  Christianity.  (Eph.  iii.  19.) 
What  follows  is  an  attempt  to  assist  the 
attentive  mind,  in  learning  a  line  or  two  of 
that  best  and  greatest  lesson.  It  introduces 
the  most  conspicuous  parts  of  the  visible  sys- 
tem, as  so  many  prom'pters  to  our  dull  af- 
j'ections  ;  each  suggesting  a  hint  adapted  to 
the  important  occasion,  and  suited  to  its  re- 
spective character. 

Csn  there  be  a  more  powerful  incentive 
to  devout  gratitude,  than  to  consider  the 
magnificent  and  delicate  scenes  of  the  imi- 
^'erse,  with  a  particular  reference  to  Christ 
iis  the  Creator? — Every  object  \-iewed  in 


this  light,  win  surely  administer  incessant 
recruits  to  the  languishing  lamp  of  divine 
love.  Every  production  in  nature  will 
strike  a  spark  into  the  soul,  and  the  whole 
creation  concur  to  raise  the  smoking  flax 
into  a  flame. 

Can  any  thing  impart  a  stronger  joy  to 
the  believer,  or  more  effectually  confirm  his 
faith  in  the  crucified  Jesus,  than  to  behold 
the  heavens  declaring  his  glory,  and  the  fir- 
mament showing  his  handy-work  ?  Surely, 
it  must  be  matter  of  inexpressible  consola- 
tion to  the  poor  sinner  to  observe  the  hon- 
ours of  his  Redeemer,  written  with  sun- 
beams over  all  the  face  of  the  world. 

We  delight  to  read  an  account  of  oiu:  in- 
carnate Jehovah,  as  he  is  revealed  in  the 
book  of  JVIoses  and  the  prophets,  as  he  is 
displayed  in  the  writings  of  the  evangelists 
and  apostles.  Let  us  also  endeavour  to  see 
a  sketch  of  his  perfections  as  they  stand  de- 
lineated in  that  stately  volume,  where  every 
leaf  is  a  spacious  plain, — every  line,  a  flow- 
ing brook, — every  period,  a  lofty  mountain. 


A  DESCANT  UPON  CREATION. 


5h 


Should  any  of  my  readers  be  unexercised 
in  such  speculations,  I  beg  leave  (in  pur- 
suance of  my  promise)  to  present  them  Nnth 
a  specimen  ;  or  to  offer  a  clue,  which  may 
possibly  lead  their  minds  into  tliis  mostim- 
pronng  and  delightftd  train  of  thinking. 

Should  any  be  inclined  to  suspect  the  so- 
lidity of  the  following  observations,  or  to 
condemn  them,  as  the  voice  of  rant,  and  the 
lawless  flight  of  fancy  ;  I  must  entreat  such 
persons  to  recollect  that  the  grand  doctrine, 
the  hinge  on  which  they  aU  turn,  is  war- 
ranted and  established  by  the  unanimous 
testimony  of  the  inspired  penmen,  who  fre- 
quently celebrate  Immanucl,  or  Christ  Je- 
sus as  the  great  almighty  cause  of  all,  as- 
suring us,  that  all  things  were  created  by 
him  and  for  him,  and  that  in  him  all  things 
consist.* 

On  such  a  subject,  what  is  wonderful,  is 
far  from  being  extravagant.  To  be  won- 
derfid  is  the  inseparable  characteristic  of 
God  and  his  works  ;  especially  of  that  most 
distinguished  and  glorious  event  of  the  di- 
vine works.  Redemption ;  so  glorious,  that 
"  all  the  miracles  in  Egyyt,  and  the  mar- 
vellous acts  in  the  field  of  Zoan,"  all  that 
the  Je\\ash  annals  have  recorded,  or  the  hu- 
man ear  has  heard ;  idl  dwindle  into  trivial 
events,  are  scarce  x^'orthy  to  be  remembered 
in  comparison  of  this  infinitely  grand  and 
infinitely  gracious  transaction.  (Isa.  xliii. 
18.)  Kindled  therefore  into  pleasing  aston- 
ishment by  such  a  survey,  let  me  give  full 
scope  to  tny  meditations,  let  me  pour  out 
my  whole  soul  on  the  boundless  subject  ; 
iiot  much  regarding  tlie  Ihnits,  which  cold 
criticism,  or  colder  unbelief  might  pre- 
scribe. 

O  ye  angels  that  siuTound  the  throne  ; 
ye  princes  of  heaven,  "  that  excel  in 
strength,"  and  are  clothed  with  transcendent 
brightness  ;  he,  who  placed  you  in  those 
stations  of  exalted  honour,  and  dignified 
yoiu"  nature  with  such  illustrious  endow- 
ments ;  he,  whom  you  all  obey,  and  all 
adore  ;  he  took  not  on  him  the  angelic  form, 
but  was  made  flesh,  and  found  in  fashion  as 
a  man  ;  like  us  wretched  mortals,  he  par- 
took of  weariness,  of  pain,  and  of  all  our 
infirmities,  sin  only  excepted  ;  that  we 
iniglit  one  day  be  raised  to  yoiu-  sublime 
abodes,  be  adopted  into  your  blissful  socie- 
ty :  and  join  Mith  your  transported  choir  in 
giving  glory  to  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the 
throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  for  ever  and  ever. 
(Rev.  V.  13.) 

O  ye  hea\'ens  !  «hose  aziu-e  arches  rise 
mmensely  high,  and  stretcli  immeasurably 
ivide  ;    stupendous  amphitheatre  !    amidst 


*  <.'o\  i.  1(5,  17-  Before  my  reader  enter  upon  the 
fdllowiiig  Descant  lie  u  dcsirtd  to  imruse  tlie  iio'.e, 
r.  11. 


whose  vast  expansive  ciicuit,  orbs  of  the 
most  dreadfiU  grandeur  are  perpetually  run- 
ning their  amazing  races ;  unfathomable 
depths  of  ether  !  where  worlds  unnumber- 
ed float,  and  lo  om-  limited  sight,  worlds 
uinumibered  are  lost ; — he  who  adjusted 
your  dimensions  with  his  span,  and  formed 
the  magnificent  structure  with  his  word  ; 
he  was  once  \\rapt  up  in  swaddling  clothes, 
and  laid  in  a  manger  ; — that  the  benefits 
accnung  to  his  people  through  his  most 
meritorious  himiiliation,  might  have  no 
other  measiu-e  of  their  value  than  immensi- 
ty, might  nm  parallel  in  theii-  diu-ation  with 
eternity. 

Ye  stars  !  that  beam  with  inextinguishable 
brilliancy  through  the  midnight-sky;  oceans 
of  flames  and  centres  of  worlds,  through 
seemingly  little  points  of  light ! — he  who 
shone  with  essential  efTidgence,  innumera- 
ble ages  before  your  twinkling  tapers  were 
kindled  ;  and  will  shine  with  everlasting  ma- 
jesty and  beauty,  when  your  places  in  the 
firmament  shall  be  known  no  more  ;  He  was 
involved  for  many  years  in  the  deepest  ob- 
scoi-ity,  lay  concealed  in  the  contemptible 
city  IVazareth,  lay  disguised  under  the  mean 
habit  of  a  carpenter's  son  ;— that  he  might 
plant  the  heavens,  (Isa.  li.  16.)  as  it  were, 
with  new  constellations,  and  array  these 
clods  of  earth,  these  houses  of  clay,  with  a 
radiancy  far  superior  to  yoiu-s,  a  radiancy 
wliich  will  adoni  the  very  heaven  of  heavens, 
when  you  shall  vanish  away  like  smoke,*  or 
expire  as  momentary  sparks  from  the  smiD- 
ten  steel. 

Comets !  that  sometimas  shoot  into  the 
illimitable  tracts  of  ether,  farther  than  the 
diseenmient  of  our  eye  is  able  to  follovr, 
sometimes  return  from  the  long,  long  ex- 
cursion, and  sweep  om-  affrighted  hemis- 
phere with  yoiu-  enormous  fieiy  train  ;  that 
sometimes  make  near  approaches  (o  the 
sun,  and  bum  almost  in  liis  immediate 
beams  ;  sometimes  retire  to  the  remotest 
distiuice,  and  freeze  for  ages  in  the  exces- 
sive rigours  of  winter  ; — he,  who  at  his  so- 
vereign pleasure  withdraws  the  blazing  won- 
der, or  leads  forth  the  portentous  stranger, 
to  shake  terror  over  gtiilty  kingdoms  ; — he 
was  overwhelmed  \vitli  the  most  shocking 
amazement,  and  ]ilunged  into  the  deei»Ci>t 
anxiety ;  was  chilled  with  apprehensions  of 
fear,  and  scorched  by  the  flames  of  avenging 


*  Alluding  to  a  passage  in  Isaiah,  which  is  I  think 
grand  and  elevated  beyond  all  comparison, — "  Lift 
up  your  eyes  to  the  hcaveiis,  and  look  upon  the  earth 
Ijeneath  ;  for  the  hcavciis  shall  vanish  away  like 
smoke,  and  the  earth  shall  wax  old  like  a  garment  ; 
and  they  that  dwell  the  ein  shall  die  like  the  feeble 
insect;  but  my  righteousness  shall  be  for  ever,  and 
my  salvation  shall  not  be  alwlished."  Isa.  li.  (i.— With 
the  great  Vitringa,  I  translate  the  words  not  in  like 
)naniier,  but  like  the  feelile  insect,  which  renilers  tie 
lieriod  more  complete,  the  sense  more  emphatical, 
and  is  more  agreeable  to  the  genius  of  the  sacred  ori- 
ginal. 


56 


A  DESCANT   UPON  CREATION. 


'wrath  ; — that  I,  and  other  depraved  rebel- 
lious creatures,  might  not  be  eternally  agi- 
tated with  the  extremes  of  jarring  passions, 
opposite,  yet  on  either  side  tormenting,  far 
more  tormenting  to  the  soul  than  the  sever- 
est degrees  of  your  heat  and  cold  to  the  hu- 
man sense. 

Ye  planets  !  that,  winged  with  unimagina^ 
ble  speed,  traverse  the  regions  of  the  sky, 
sometimes  climbing  millions  and  millions  of 
miles  above,  sometimes  descending  as  far 
below  the  great  axle  of  your  motions ;  ye, 
that  are  so  miiuitely  faithful  to  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  day  and  night,  so  exactly  punctual 
in  bringing  on  the  changes  of  your  respective 
seasons ; — he,  who  launched  you  at  first  from 
his  mighty  arm  ;  who  continually  impels 
you  with  such  wonderful  rapidity,  and  guides 
you  with  such  perfect  regularity  ;  who  fixes 
"  the  habitation  of  his  holiness  and  his  glo- 
ry," infinite  heights  above  your  scanty 
rounds ;  he  once  became  a  helpless  infant, 
sojourned  in  our  inferior  world,  fled  from 
the  persecutor's  sword,  and  wandered  as  a 
vagabond  in  a  foreign  land  ;  that  he  might 
lead  our  feet  into  the  way  of  peace  :  that  he 
might  bring  us  aliens  near  to  God  ;  bring 
us  exiles  home  to  heaven. 

Thou  sun  !  inexhaustible  source  of  light, 
and  heat,  and  comfort ;  without  whose  pre- 
sence an  universal  gloom  would  ensue,  and 
horror  insupportable  ;  who,  without  the  as- 
sistance of  any  other  fire,  sheddest  day 
through  a  thousand  realms  ;  and  not  con- 
fining thy  munificence  to  realms  only,  ex- 
tendest  thy  enlightening  influences  to  sur- 
rounding worlds  ;  prime  cheerer  of  the  ani- 
mal, and  great  enlivener  of  the  vegetable 
tribes  ;  so  beautiful  in  thyself,  so  beneficial 
in  thy  eflfects,  that  erring  heathens  address- 
ed thee  wth  adorations,  and  mistook  thee 
for  thy  Maker ; — he,  who  iilled  thy  orb 
with  a  profusion  of  lustre,  lustre  in  its  di- 
rect emanations,  insufltrably  bright,  but  re- 
bated by  reflection,  delightfully  mild  ;  he 
before  whom  thy  meridian  splendours  are  but 
a  shade  ;  whose  love  transfused  into  the 
heart,  is  infinitely  more  exhilarating,  than 
even  thy  sweet  and  clear  shining  after  the 
rain  ; — he  divested  himself  of  his  all-tran- 
scending distinctions,  and  drew  a  veil  over 
the  effulgence  of  his  divinity ;  that  by 
speaking  to  us  face  to  face,  as  a  man  speak- 
eth  unto  his  friend,  he  might  dispel  our  in- 
tellectual darkness  ;  "  his  visage  was  mar- 
red," (Isa.  liii.  14.)  and  he  became  the 
scorn  of  men,  the  outcast  of  the  people, 
that  by  this  manifestation  of  his  unuttera- 
bly tender  regard  for  our  welfare,  he  might 
difi^use  many  a  gleam  of  joy  through  our  de- 
jected minds  ;  that  in  another  state  of 
things,  he  might  clothe  even  our  fallen  na- 
ture with  the  honours  of  that  magnificent 
luminary  ;  and  give  all  the  righteous  to 
shine  forth  as  the  sun,  in  the  kingdom  of 
tiioir  Fathtf. 


Thou  moon  !  that  walkest  among  the 
host  of  stars,  and  in  thy  lucid  appearance, 
art  superior  to  them  all  :  fair  ruler  of  the 
night !  sometimes  half  restoring  the  day  with 
thy  waxing  brightness  ;  sometimes  waning 
into  dimness,  and  scarcely  scattering  the 
nocturnal  gloom  ;  sometimes  covered  with 
sackcloth,  and  alarming  the  gazing  nations  ; 
— he,  who  dresses  thy  opaque  globe  in 
beaming,  but  borrowed  silver ;  he  whose 
dignity  is  unchangeable,  underived,  and  all 
his  owm,  he  vouchsafed  to  wear  a  body  of 
clay ;  he  was  content  to  appear  as  in  a 
bloody  eclipse,  shorn  of  his  resplendent 
beams,  and  surrounded  with  a  night  of  hor- 
ror, which  knew  not  one  reviving  ray. — 
Thus  has  he  empowered  his  church,  and  a^ 
believers,  to  tread  the  moon  under  their 
feet ;  (Rev.  xii.  1.)  hence  inspired  with  the 
hope  of  brighter  glory,  and  of  more  enduring 
bliss,  are  they  enabled  to  triumph  over  all  the 
vain  anxieties  and  vainer  amusements,  of  this 
sublunary,  precarious,  mutable  world. 

Ye  thunders  !  that,  awfully  grumbling  in 
the  distant  clouds,  seem  to  meditate  indig- 
nation, and  form  the  first  essays  of  a  far 
more  frightful  peal ;  or,  suddenly  bursting 
over  our  heads,  rend  the  vault  above,  and 
shake  the  ground  below,  wth  the  hi- 
deous horrid  crash ;  ye  that  send  your  tre- 
mendous voUies  from  pole  to  pole,  startling 
the  savage  herds,  (Psalm  xxix.  8.)  and  as- 
tonishing the  humaft  race  ; — he,  who  per- 
mits terror  to  soimd  her  trumpet,  in  your 
deep,  prolonged,  enlarging,  aggravated  roar  ; 
he  uttered  a  feeble  infantile  cry  in  the 
stable,  and  strong  expiring  groans  on  the 
accursed  tree, — that  he  might,  in  the  gen- 
tlest accent,  whisper  peace  to  our  souls,  and 
at  length  tune  our  voices  to  the  melody  of 
heaven. 

O  ye  lightnings  !  that  brood  and  lie 
couchant  in  the  sulphurous  vapours,  that 
glance  with  forked  fury  from  the  angry 
gloom,  swifter  and  fiercer  than  the  lion 
rushes  from  his  den,  or  open  into  vast  ex- 
pansive sheets  of  flame,  sublimely  waved 
over  the  prostrate  world,  and  fearfully  lin- 
gering in  the  frighted  skies  ;  ye  that  for- 
merly laid  in  ashes  the  licentious  abodes  of 
lust  and  violence,  that  will  ere  long  set  on 
fire  the  elements,  and  co-operate  in  the  con- 
flagration of  the  globe ;  he  who  kindles 
your  flash,  and  directs  you  when  to  sally, 
and  where  to  strike  ;  he  who  commissions 
your  whirling  bolts,  whom  to  kill  and 
v\hom  to  spare  ;  he  resigned  his  sacred 
person  to  the  most  barbarous  indignities  ; 
submitted  his  beneficent  hands  to  the  pon- 
derous hammer,  and  the  piercing  nail ;  yea, 
withheld  not  his  heart,  his  very  heart,  from 
the  stab  of  the  executioner's  spear  ;  and  in- 
stead of  flashing  confusion  on  his  outrageous 
tormentors ;  instead  of  striking  them  dead 
to  the  earth,  or  plunging  them  into  tlie 
depths  of  hell  with  his  fro\^•n  ;  he  cried — in 


A  DESCANT  UPON  CREATION. 


57 


his  last  moments,  and  with  his  agonizinpf 
lips,  he  cried — "  Father  forgive  them,  for 
they  know  not  what  they  do  !"  O  !  what 
a  pattern  of  patience  for  his  saints  !  What 
an  object  of  admiration  for  angels  !  What 
a  constellation  of  every  mild,  amiable,  and 
benign  virtue,  shining  in  this  hour  of  dark- 
ness, with  ineffable  splendour  and  beauty  !* 
Hence,  hence  it  is,  that  we  are  not  trem- 
bling under  the  lightnings  of  mount  Sinai ; 
that  we  are  not  blasted  by  the  flames  of  di- 
vine vengeance,  or  doomed  to  dwell  with 
everlasting  burnings. 

Ye  frowning  wintry  clouds  !  oceans  pen- 
dant in  the  air,  and  burdening  the  ^vinds  ; 
he  in  whose  hand  you  are  an  overflowing 
scourge  ;  or,  by  whose  appointment,  an  ar- 
senalf  of  warlike  stores ;  he  who  opens 
your  sluices,  and  a  flood  gushes  forth  to  de- 
stroy the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  dro^'im  the 
husbandman's  hopes  ;  who  mould  you  in- 
to frozen  balls,  and  you  are  shot,  linked 
with  death,|  on  the  troops  of  his  enemies  ; 


*  One  can  hsrdly  forbear  animadverting  upon  the 
disingenuous  temper,  and  perverse  taste  of  Celsus, 
who  attempts  to  turn  this  most  distinguishing  and 
ornamental  part  of  our  Lord's  hfe,  into  ridicule  and 
reproach.— Having  spoken  of  Christ  as  despitefully 
ustd,  and  arrayed  in  a  purple  robe,  crowned  with 
thorns,  and  holding,  by  way  of  mock  majesty,  a  reed 
instead  of  a  sceptre  {for  he  enters  into  all  these  cir- 
cumstances, which  is  a  testimony  to  the  truth  even 
from  the  mDuth  of  an  enemy;)  tie  adds,  "Why  in 
the  name  of  wonder,  does  he  not,  on  this  occasion  at 
least,  act  theGod  ?  Why  does  he  not  deliver  himself 
from  this  shocking  ignominy,  or  execute  some  signal 
vengeance  on  the  authors  of  such  injurious  and  abu- 
sive insults,  bothof  himself  and  his  Father  ?" — Why, 
Celsus,  because  he  was  meekness  and  gentleness  it- 
self; whereas  your  deities  were  slaves  to  their  own 
turbulent  and  resentful  passions;  because  they  were 
little  better  than  savages  in  human  shape,  who  too 
often  made  a  merit  ot  slaughter,  and  took  a  horrid 
pride  in  spilling  blood  :  while  Christ  was  tlie  Prince 
of  Peace,  and  came  not  to  destroy  men's  lives,  but  to 
save:  because  any  madman  on  earth,  or  fury  from 
hell,  is  capable  of  venting  his  rage;  but  who  amidst 
such  unsutferable  provocations  and  barbarities;  who, 
having  in  his  own  hand  the  power  to  rescue  himself, 
the  power  to  avenge  himself,  could  submit  to  all 
with  an  unruffled  serenity  of  patience,  and  not  only 
not  be  exasperated,  but  overcome  in  so  triumphant  a 
manner,  evil  with  g(X)d  ?  None  but  Christ !  None 
but  Christ !  This  was  compassion  worthy  of  a  God, 
clcmoncy  and  cliarily  truly  divine  1 

Therefore  the  calumny  raised  by  the  same  virulent 
objector,  in  another  place,  carries  its  own  confutation, 
or  rather  falls  with  a  weight  of  infamy  on  his  dung- 
hill deities,  v.hileit  bears  a  most  honourable  testimo- 
ny to  the  majestic  and  invincible  meekness  of  our 
Saviour.  Says  he  to  the  Christian,  ibid.  p.  404. 
"  Y'ou  indeed  take  upon  you  to  deride  the  images  of 
our  deities,  but  if  Bacchus  himself,  or  Hercules,  had 
been  present,  you  would  not  Iiave  dared  to  offer  such 
an  affront ;  or  if  you  had  been  so  presumptuous, 
would  have  severely  smarted  for  your  insolence; 
whereas,  they  who  tormented  the  very  person  of  your 
God,  and  even  extended  him  with  mortal  agony  on 
the  cross,  .sufi'eied  no  etfccts  of  his  disple.asiue." 

+  Juvenal  seems  to  consider  the  clouds  under  the 
same  character,  in  that  beautiful  line : 

Quicquid  hylient  telorum  armamentaria  coeli. — 
Sat.  13. 
t  Job  has  informed  us  for  what  purpose  the  maga- 
zines of  the  firmament  are  stocked  with  hail. — That 
they  may  be  ready  ajiainst  the  day  of  battle  and  war, 
Jobxxxviii.23.  Joshua  has  recorded  what  terrible 
slaughter  has  been  made  by  th.cfe  missile  weapons  of 
the  Almighty,  Josh.  x.  11. — Hut  the  most  dreadful 
description  of  this  grcl  ordnance  of  the  heavens,  is 


He,  instead  of  discharging  the  ftn-iousness 
of  his  wrath  upon  his  guilty  head,  poured 
out  his  prayers,  poured  out  his  sighs,  pour- 
ed out  his  very  soul,  for  me  and  my  fellow 
transgressors,  that  by  virtue  of  his  inesti- 
mable propitiation,  the  overflowings  of  di- 
vine good  will  might  be  extended  to  sinful 
men  :  that  the  skies  might  pour  down  righ- 
teousness, and  peace  on  her  dowmy  wings, 
peace  with  her  balmy  blessings,  descend  to 
dwell  on  earth. 

Ye  vernal  clouds  !  furls  of  finer  air,  folds 
of  softer  moisture,  he  who  draws  you  in  co- 
pious exhalations  from  the  briny  deep,  or- 
ders you  to  leave  every  distasteful  quality 
behind,  and  become  floating  fountains  of 
sweetest  waters  ;  he  who  dissolves  you  in- 
to gentle  rain,  and  dismisses  you  in  fruit- 
ful showers,  who  kindly  commissions  you 
to  drop  dowTi  fatness  as  you  fall,  and  to 
scatter  flowers  over  the  field  :  He,  in  the 
unutterable  bitterness  of  his  spirit,  was  with- 
out any  comforting  sense  of  his  almighty 
Father's  presence  ;  he,  when  his  bones  were 
burnt  up  like  a  fire-brand,  had  not  one  drop 
of  that  sacred  consolation,  which  on  many 
of  his  afflicted  servants,  has  been  distilled 
as  the  evening  dews,  and  has  "  given  songs 
in  the  night"  of  distress: — that,  from  this 
unallayed  and  inconsolable  anguish  of  our 
all-gracious  master,  we,  as  from  a  well  of 
salvation,  might  derive  large  draughts  of 
spiritual  refreshment. 

Thou  grand  etherial  bow  !  whose  beau- 
ties flush  the  firmament,  and  charm  every 
spectator  ;  he,  who  paints  thee  on  the  fluid 
skirts  of  the  sky,  who  decks  thee  with  all 
the  pride  of  colours,  and  bends  thee  into 
that  graceful  and  majestic  figiu-e,  at  whose 
command  thy  vivid  streaks  sweetly  rise,  or 
swiftly  fade  : — He,  through  all  his  life,  was 
arrayed  in  the  humble  garb  of  poverty  ;  and, 
at  his  exit,  wore  the  gorgeous  garment  of  con- 
tempt, insomuch,  that  even  his  own  familiar 
friends,  ashamed  or  afraid  to  own  him,  "  hid, 
as  it  were,  their  faces  from  him  "*  to  teach 
us  a  becoming  disdain  for  the  unsubstantial 
and  transitory  glitter  of  all  worldly  vani- 
ties ;  to  introduce  us,  in  robes  brighter  than 
the  tinges  of  thy  resplendent  arch,  even  in 
the  robes  of  his  own  innnaciilate  righteous- 
ness, to  introduce  us  before  that  august  and 
venerable  throne,  which  the  peaceful  rain- 
bow surrounds,  surrounds  as  a  pledge  of  in- 
violable fidelity  and  infinite  mercy. 

Ye  storms  and  tempests  !  which  vex  the 
continent,   and    toss   the   seas,  which  dash 


given  us  in  Rev.  xvi.  21.  There  fell  upon  men  a 
great  hail  out  of  heaven,  every  stone  about  the  weight 
of  a  talent. 

•  Isa.  liii.  X  "  Fuit  tanquam  aliquis,  a  quo  quisque 
faciem  occultaret."  He  was  as  some  flagitious  and 
abandoned  wretch,  from  whom  every  one,  disdaining 
.such  a  character,  and  disclaiming  siich  an  acquaint- 
ance, studiously  hid  his  face. 


58 


A  DESCANT  UPON  CREATION. 


navies  on  the  rocks,  and  drive  forests  from 
their  roots ;  he  whose  breath  rouses  you 
into  such  resistless  fury,  and  whose  nod 
controls  you  in  your  voidest  career ;  he, 
who  holds  the  rapid  and  raging  hurricane 
in  straitened  reins,  and  walks,  dreadfully 
serene,  on  the  very  wings  of  the  wind :  He 
went,  all  meek  and  gentle.  Like  a  lamb  to 
the  slaughter  for  us ;  and,  as  a  sheep  be- 
fore her  shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  opened  not 

his  mouth Thus   are    we    instructed    to 

bear,  with  decent  magnanimity,  the  various 
assaults  of  adversity,  and  to  pass  with  a 
becoming  tranquillity  of  temper,  through 
all  the  rude  blasts  of  injurious  treatment. 
Thus  are  we  delivered  from  the  unutter- 
able fiercer  storms  of  incensed  and  inexor- 
able justice ;  from  the  "  fire,  the  brimstone, 
and  the  horrible  tempest,  which  Avill  be  the 
final  portion  of  the  ungodly." 

Thou  pestilence !  that  scatterest  ten 
thousand  poisons  from  thy  baleful  \vings  ; 
tainting  the  air,  and  infecting  the  nations  ; 
imder  whose  malignant  influence,  joy  is 
blasted,  and  nature  sickens  ;  mighty  regions 
are  depopulated,  and  once  crowded  cities 
are  left  without  inhabitants — He,  who 
arms  thee  with  ine\'itable  destruction,  and 
bids  thee  march  before  his  angry  counte- 
nance,* to  spread  desolation  among  the  tents 
of  the  wicked,  and  be  the  forerunner  of  fiir 
vnore  fearful  indignation :  He,  in  his  holy 
humanity,  was  arraigned  as  a  criminal ;  and 
thotigh  innocence  itself,  yea,  the  very  pat- 
tern of  perfection,  was  condemned  to  die, 
like  the  most  execrable  miscreant ;  as  a 
nuisance  to  society,  and  the  very  bane  of 
the  public  happiness,  he  was  hurried  away 
to  execution,  and  hammered  to  the  gibbet ; 
^that,  by  his  blood,  he  might  prepare  a 
sovereign  medicine  to  cure  us  of  a  more  fa- 
tal distemper,  than  the  pestilence  which 
walketh  in  darkness,  or  the  sickness  which 
destroyeth  at  noon-day ;  that  he  might 
himself  say  to  our  last  enemy,  "  O  death, 
I  wiU  be  thy  plague  ;  O  grave,  I  wQl  be 
thy  destruction."  (Hos.  xiii.  14.) 

Heat !  \\'hose  buriiijig  influence  parches 
the  Lybian  wilds  ;  tans  into  soot  the  Ethi- 
opian's complexion,  and  makes  every  species 
of  life  pant,  and  di'oop,  and  languish  ;  cold, 
whose  icy  breath  glazes  yearly  the  Russian 
seas,  often  glues  the  frozen  sailor  to  the 
cordage,  and  stiflTens  the  traveller  into  a 
statue  of  rigid  flesh  :  He  who  sometimes 
blends  you  both,  and  produces  the  most 
agreeable  temperature,  sometimes  suffers 
you  to  act  separately,  and  rage  with  intol- 
erable severity  ;  that  King  of  heaven,  and 
controller  of  imivcrsal  nature,  when  dwell- 
ing in  a  tabernacle  of  clay,  was  exposed  to 
chilling    damps,    and    smitten    by    si  J  try 


•  Before  him  went  the  pestilence,  Hab.  iii. 


beams  ;  the  stars,  in  their  midnight  watch- 
es, heard  him  pray ;  and  the  sun  in  his 
meridian  fervours  saw  him  toil.  Hence 
are  our  frozen  hearts  dissolved  into  a  min- 
gled flow  of  wonder,  love,  and  joy  ;  being 
conscious  of  a  deliverance  from  those  in- 
sufferable flames,  which,  kindled  by  divine 
indignation,  burn  to  the  lowest  hell. 

Thou  ocean,  vast  world  of  waters  !  He, 
who  sunk  that  capacious  bed  for  thy  recep- 
tion, and  poured  the  liquid  element  into  im- 
fathomable  channels  ;  before  whom,  all  thy 
foaming  billows,  and  floating  mountains,  are 
as  the  small  drop  of  a  bucket ;  who,  by  the 
least  intimation  of  his  will  swells  thy  fluid 
kingdoms  in  wild  confusion,  to  mingle  with 
the  clouds ;  or  reduces  them  in  calm  com* 
posure  to  slumber  on  the  shore ;  be,  who 
once  gave  thee  a  warrant  to  overwhelm  the 
whole  earth,  and  bury  all  its  degenerate  in- 
habitants in  a  watery  grave ;  but  has  now 
laid  an  everlasting  embargo  on  thy  boister- 
ous waves,  and  bound  thee,  all  fierce  and 
madding  as  thou  art,  in  chains  stronger  than 
adamant,  yet  formed  of  despicable  sand : 
and  all  the  waves  of  vengeance  and  wrath, 
of  tribulation  and  anguish,  passed  over  his 
crucified  body,  and  his  agonizing  soul ;  that 
we  might  emerge  from  those  depths  of  mis- 
ery, from  that  abyss  of  guilt,  into  which  we 
were  plunged  by  Adam's  fall,  and  more 
irretrievably  sunk  by  our  own  transgressions  ; 
that  at  the  last,  we  might  be  restored  to  that 
happy  world,  which  is  represented,  in  the 
vision  of  God,  as  having  "  no  sea,"  ( Rev. 
xxi,  1.)  to  denote  its  perpetual  stability, 
and  undisturbed  serenity. 

Ye  mountains !  that  overlook  the  clouds, 
and  project  a  shade  into  distant  provinces  ; 
everlasting  pyramids  of  nature,  not  to  be 
shaken  by  conflicting  elements  ;  not  to  be 
shattered  by  the  bolts  of  thunder,  nor  im- 
paired even  by  the  ravages  of  time ;  he,  who 
bid  your  ridges  rise  high,  and  your  founda- 
tion stand  so  fast ;  he,  in  whose  scale  you 
are  lighter  than  dust ;  in  whose  eyes  you 
are  less  than  nothing; — He  sunk  beneath 
a  load  of  woes — woes  unsupportable,  but 
not  his  o\\Ti ;  when  he  took  our  iniquities 
upon  himself,  and  heaved  the  more  than 
mountainous  burden  from  a  guilty  \^'orld. 

Ye  verdant  woods  !  that  crowii  our  hills, 
and  are  crowned  yourselves  with  leafy  hon- 
ours ;  ye  humble  shrubs,  adorned  in  spring 
with  opening  blossoms  ;  and  fanned  in 
summer  by  gentle  gales  ;  ye  that  in  distant 
climes,  or  in  cultivated  gardens,  breathe  out 
spicy  odours,  and  embalm  the  air  with  de- 
lightful perfumes.  He — yoiu-  all-glorious 
and  ever-blessed  Creator's  head,  was  encir- 
cled with  the  thorny  wreath,  his  face  was 
defiled  with  contumelious  spitting,  and  his 
body  bathed  in  a  bloody  sweat,  that  we 
might  wear  the  crown — the  crowni  of  glory 
which  fiadeth  not  away,  and  live  for  ever- 


A  DESCANT  UPON  CREATION. 


Bd 


more  Blirrounded  with  delights  as  much  sur- 
jmssiiig  yoiirs,  as  yours  exceed  the  rugged 
ilesolatious  of  winter. 

Thou  mantling  vine !  He,  who  hangs  on 
thy  slender  shoots,  the  rich,  transparent, 
weighty  cluster ;  who,  under  thy  unorna- 
mented  fuliage,  and  amidst  the  pores  of  thy 
Otherwise  worthless  boughs,  prepares  the 
liquor, — the  refined  and  exalted  liquor, 
which  cheers  the  nations,  and  fills  the  cup 
of  joy;  trees,  whose  branches  are  elevated 
and  waving  in  air  ;  or  diffused,  in  easy  con- 
finement, along  a  sunny  wall :  He,  who 
bends  you  with  a  lovely  burden  of  delicious 
fruits,  whose  genial  warmth  beautifies  their 
rind,  and  mellows  their  taste ; — He,  when 
voluntarily  subject  to  our  wants,  instead  of 
being  refreshed  with  your  generous  juices, 
or  regaled  with  your  luscious  pulp,  had  a 
loathsome  potion  of  vinegar,  mingled  with 
gall,  addressed  to  his  lips  : — that  we  might 
sit  under  the  shadow  of  his  merits  with 
great  tranquillity  and  the  utmost  complacen- 
cy ;  that,  ere  long,  being  admitted  into  the 
paradise  of  God,  we  might  eat  of  the  tree 
of  life,  (Rev.  ii.  7.)  and  drink  new  mne 
wdth  him  in  his  Father's  kingdom. 

Ye  luxuriant  meadows  !  He,  who  without 
the  seedman's  industry,  replenishes  your  ir- 
riguous  lap  with  never-failing  crops  of  herb- 
age, and  enamels  their  cheerful  green  with 
flowers  of  eveiy  hue  ;  ye  fertile  fields ! — 
He,  who  blesses  the  labours  of  the  husband- 
man, enriches  your  well-tiUed  plains  with 
waving  harvests,  and  calls  forth  the  staff  of 
life  from  your  furrows ;  he,  who  causes 
both  meadows  and  fields  to  laugh  and  sing, 
for  the  abundance  of  plenty; — He  was  no 
stranger  to  coiToding  hunger,  and  parching 
thirst;  he  alas  !  ate  the  bitter  bread  of  woe, 
and  had  "  plenteousness  of  tears  to  drink  ;" 
— that  we  might  partake  of  richer  dainties 
than  tliose  which  are  produced  by  tlie  dew  of 
heaven,  and  proceed  from  the  fatness  of  the 
earth  ;  that  we  might  feed  on  "  the  hidden 
manna,"  and  eat  the  bread  wliich  giveth  life 
— eternal  life — imto  the  world. 

Ye  mines  !  rich  in  golden  ore,  or  bright 
with  veins  of  silver ;  that  distribute  your 
sliining  treasures  as  far  as  winds  can  waft 
the  vessel  of  commerce,  which  bestow  your 
alms  on  monarchs,,  and  have  princes  for  your 
pensioners: — Ye  beds  of  gems,  toy-shops 
of  nature  !  which  form,  in  dark  retirement, 
the  glittering  stone  ;  diamonds,  that  sparkle 
with  a  brilliant  water  ;  rubies,  that  glow 
with  a  crimson  flame ;  emeralds,  dipped  in 
the  freshest  verdure  of  spring;  sajjphires, 
decked  with  the  fairest  drapery  of  the  sky; 
topaz,  emblazed  with  dazzling  yellow  ;  ame- 
thyst, empui'i)led  with  the  blushes  of  tlie 
morning  : — He,  who  tinctures  the  metallic 
dust,  and  consolidates  the  lucid  droj)  ;  he, 
when  sojourning  on  earth,  had  no  riches  but 
the  riches  of  disinterested  benevolence,  had 


no  ornament,  but  the  ornament  of  unspotted 
purity.  Poor  he  was  in  his  circumstances, 
and  mean  in  all  his  accommodations,  that 
we  might  be  rich  in  grace,  and  "  obtain 
salvation  with  eternal  glory ;"  that  we  might 
inhabit  the  new  Jerusalem,  that  splendid 
city,  whose  streets  are  paved  with  gold, 
w'hose  gates  are  formed  of  pearl,  and  the 
walls  garnished  wuth  all  manner  of  precious 
stones.   (Rev.  xxi.  19,  21.) 

Ye  gushing  fountains  !  that  trickle  potable 
silver  through  the  matted  grass ;  ye  fine 
transparent  streams  !  that  glide  in  crj'stal 
waves,  along  your  fringed  banks  ;  ye  deep 
and  stately  rivers  !  that  wind  and  wander  in 
your  course,  to  spread  your  favours  wider, 
that  gladden  kingdoms  in  your  progress, 
and  augment  the  sea  with  your  tribute  :  — 
He  who  supplies  all  your  currents  from  his  . 
owni overflowingand  inexhaustible  liberality ; 
he,  when  his  nerves  were  racked  with  ex- 
quisite pain,  and  his  blood  inflamed  by  a 
raging  fever,  cried,  I  thirst,  and  was  de- 
nied (unparalleled  hardship  !)  in  this  his 
great  extremity,  was  denied  the  poor  refresh- 
ment of  a  single  drop  of  water  ; — that  we, 
ha\'ing  all-sufficiency  in  all  things,  might 
abound  to  every  good  work  ;  might  be  filled 
with  the  fulness  of  spiritual  blessings  here, 
and  hereafter  be  satisfied  with  that  fidness 
of  joy  which  is  at  God's  right  hand  for  ever- 
more. 

Ye  birds  !  cheerful  tenants  of  the  boughs, 
gaily  dressed  in  glossy  plumage,  who  wake 
the  morn,  and  solac£  the  groves,  with  yoiu: 
artless  lays :  inimitable  architects,  who, 
without  rule  or  line,  build  your  pensile 
structure  with  all  the  nicety  of  proportion  ; 
you  have  each  his  commodious  nest,  roofed 
with  shades,  and  lined  with  warmth,  to  pro- 
tect and  cherish  the  callow-brood: — but  he, 
who  tuned  your  throats  to  harmony,  and 
taught  you  that  curious  skill ;  he  was  a  man 
of  sorrows  and  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head, — had  not  where  to  lay  his  head,  till 
he  felt  the  pangs  of  dissolution,  and  was 
laid  in  the  silent  grave ; — that  we,  dwelling 
under  the  wings  of  Omnipotence,  and  rest- 
ing in  the  bosom  of  infinite  love,  might 
spend  an  harmonious  eternity  in  "  singing 
the  song  of  Moses  and  of  the  Lamb." 

Bees  !  industrious  workmen,  that  sweep 
with  busy  wing,  the  flowery  garden,  and 
search  the  blooming  heath,  and  sip  the  mel- 
lifluous dews, — strangers  to  idleness  ! — that 
ply,  with  incessant  assiduity,  your  pleasing 
task,  and  suffer  no  opening  blossom  to  pass 
unexplored,  no  sunny  gleam  to  slip  away 
unimproved  :  most  ingenious  artificers  ; 
that  cling  to  the  fragrant  buds,  drain  them 
of  their  treasured  sweet,  and  extract,  (if  I 
may  so  speak,)  even  the  odoriferous  souls 
of  herbs,  and  plants,  and  flowers  ; — you, 
when  you  have  completed  your  work,  have 
collected,  refined,  and  seairely  lodged  the 


60 


A  DESCANT   L'PON  CREATION. 


ambrosial  stores  ;  when  you  might  reason- 
ably expect  the  peaceful  fruition  of  your 
acquisitions,  you,  alas  1  are  barbarously  de- 
stroyed, and  leave  yoiu"  hoarded  delicacies 
to  others,  leave  them  to  be  enjoyed  by  your 
very  murderers.  I  cannot  but  pity  your 
hard  destiny  ! — How  then  should  my  bow- 
els melt  with  sympathy,  and  my  eyes  flow 
with  tears,*  when  I  remember,  that  thus, 
thus  it  fared  with  your  and  our  incarnate 
Maker  !  After  a  life  of  the  most  exempla- 
ry and  exalted  piety,  a  life  filled  with  offi- 
ces of  beneficence,  and  labours  of  love : 
He  was,  by  wicked  hands,  crucilied  and 
slain  :  he  left  the  honey  of  his  toil,  the 
balm  of  his  blood,  and  the  riches  of  his 
obedience,  to  be  shared  among  others  ;  to 
be  shared  even  among  those  who  too  often 
•crucify  him  afresh,  and  put  him  to  open 
shame. 

Shall  I  mention  the  animal,f  which  spins 
ber  soft,  her  shining,  her  exquisitely  tine 
silken  thread !  whose  matchless  manufac- 
tures lend  an  ornament  to  grandeur,  and 
make  royalty  itself  more  magnificent.  Shall 
I  take  notice  of  the  cell,  in  which,  when 
the  gaiety  and  business  of  life  are  over,  the 
little  recluse  immures  herself,  and  spends 
the  remainder  of  her  days  in  retirement  ? 
Shall  I  rather  observe  the  sepulchre, 
which,  when  cloyed  with  pleasure,  and 
weaiy  of  the  world,  she  prepares  for  her 
own  interment ;  or  how,  Mhen  a  stat- 
ed period  is  elapsed,  she  wakes  from  a 
death-like  inactivity;  breaks  the  inclosure  of 
her  tomb  ;  throws  off  the  dusky  shroud ;  as- 
sumes a  new  form  ;  puts  on  a  more  sump- 
tuous array  ;  and  from  an  insect  creeping 
on  the  ground,  becomes  a  winged  inhabitant 
of  the  air  ? — No,  this  is  a  poor  reptile,  and 
therefore  unworthy  to  serve  as  an  illustra- 
tion, when  any  character  of  the  Son  of  God 
comes  under  consideration.  Eut  let  me  cor- 
rect myself.  Was  not  Christ  (to  use  the 
language  of  his  ov.n  blessed  Spirit)  a  worm, 
and  no  man  ?  (  Psalm  xxii.  6. )     In  appear- 


•  Canst  thou,  vmgrateful  man,  his  torments  see, 
Nor  drop  a  tear  for  him  who  poured  his  blood  for 

thee  ?  Pitt's  Poet}is. 

+  No  one,  I  hope,  will  be  offended  at  my  introduc- 
ing, on  such  an  occasion,  creatures  of  so  low  a  rank, 
sinc6  even  thevolumesof  inspiration  seem  to  lend  me 
the  sanction  oftheir  sacred  authority.  As  they  disdain 
not  to  compare  the  blessed  Jesus  to  a  door,  a  high- 
way, &LC.  And  perhaps,  all  comparisons  whicli  re- 
spect a  being  or  infinite  divinity,  are  not  only  mean, 
but  ecumUy  mean  and  imworthy. 

I  am  sensible,  likewise,  that  in  this  para.^raph,  and 
Bome  otheis,  all  the  circumstances  are  not  "completely 
correspond' nt.  lUit  if.in  some  grand  parti',  iilars  the 
redition  answers  to  the  description,  th:-;  I  trust  will  be 
sufficient  for  my  purpose,  and  satisfactory  to  my 
readers. — Perhrpsit  would  be  no  mistaken  caution, 
to  apply  tlir  same  oV-servation  to  manv  of  the  beauti- 
ful similitudes,  parables,  and  allegories  used  bv  our 
Lord:  such  as  the  brazen  serpent,  the  unjust  steward, 
thethi-f  ill  thenight.&c.  which, ifscrupulouslvaifted, 
or  rigorously  strains  d,  for  an  entire  coincidence  in 
every  circumstance,  must  appear  to  great  disadvan- 
tage, and  lead  into  i>alpable  jnconvenicncies. 


ance  such,  and  treated  as  such—Did  not 
he  also  bequeath  the  fine  linen  of  his  own 
most  perfect  righteousness,  to  compose  the 
marriage-garment*  for  our  disarrayed  and 
defiled  souls  ?  Did  he  not,  before  his 
flesh  saw  corruption,  emerge  triumphant 
from  the  grave  ;  and  not  only  mount  the 
lower  firmament,  but  ascend  the  heaven  of 
heavens  ;  taking  possession  of  those  sublime 
abodes  in  our  name,  and  as  our  forerunner. 
Ye  cattle  !  that  rest  in  your  inclosed  pas- 
tures ;  ye  beasts  !  that  range  the  unlimited  for- 
ests ;  ye  fish !  that  rove  through  trackless  paths 
of  the  sea  ;  sheep  !  clad  in  garments,  which 
when  left  by  you,  are  wore  by  kings  ;  kine  ! 
who  feed  on  verdure,  which,  transmuted  in 
your  bodies,  and  strained  from  your  udders, 
furnishes  a  repast  for  queens;  lions  !  roaring 
after  your  prey  ;  leviathan  !  taking  your  pas- 
time in  the  great  deep  :   with  all  that  wing 


•  This,  and  several  other  hints,  interspersed  through- 
out this  work,  refer  to  the  active  and  passive  righte- 
ousness of  Christ,  imputed  to  believers  for  their  jus- 
tification. Which  in  the  opinion  of  many  great  ex- 
positors, is  the  mystical  and  the  most  sublime  mean- 
ing of  the  wedding-garment,  so  emphatically  and  for- 
cibly recommendea  by  the  teacher  sent  from  God, 
( Mai  th.  xxii.  11.)  A  doctrine,  which  some  of  those 
who  honour  my  Meditations  with  a  perusal,  probably 
may  not  receive  with  much,  if  any  approbatioi^.  I 
hope  the  v/hole  performance  may  not  be  cashiered  for 
one  difference  of  sentiment;  and  I  beg  that  the  senti- 
ment itself  m.ay  not  hastily  be  rejected  without  a  se- 
rious hearing.  For  I  have  the  pleasure  of  being  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  a  {jf'ntlemanof  good  lea. ning 
and  distinguished  sense,  u  o  had  once  as  strong  pre- 
possessions against  this  tenet,  as  can  well  be  ima- 
gined. Yet  now  he  not  only  admits  it  as  a  truth,  but 
embraces  it,  as  the  joy  of  his  heart,  and  cleaves  to  it 
as  the  rock  of  his  hopes. 

A  clear  and  cogent.  Treatise,  entitled.  Submission 
to  the  righteousness  of  God,  was  the  instrument  of  re- 
moving his  p  ejudices,  and  reducing  him  to  a  better 
judgment, — in  which  he  has  been  happily  confirmed 
by  the  authority  of  the  most  illustrious  names,  and 
the  works  of  the  most  eminent  pens,  that  ever  adorn- 
ed our  church  and  nation, — in  this  number,  are  Bi- 
shop Jewel,  one  of  our  great  reformers ;  and  the  other 
venerable  compilers  of  our  homilies ;  Archbishop  Ush- 
er, that  oracle  of  universal  learning;  Bishop  Hall, 
the  devout  and  spnghtly  orato  ■  of  his  age  ;  the  co- 
pious and  fervent  Bishop  Hopkins;  the  singularly 
good  and  unaffected  Bishop  Beveridge;  that  everlast- 
ing honour  of  the  bench  of  judicature.  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Hales;  the  nervous,  florid,  and  persuasive 
Dean  Stanhope;  the  practical  and  persjiicuous  Mr. 
Burkitt;  and  to  summon  no  other  evidence,  that 
matchless  genius  Milton,  who  in  various  parts  of  his 
divine  poem,  inculcates  this  comfortable  truth  ;  and 
in  one  passage,  represents  it  under  the  very  same 
image,  which  is  made  use  of  ab  ive.  Book  X.  1.  2-22. 

1  had  almost  forgot  to  mention  that  the  Treatise, 
entitled  Submission,  &c.  was  written  by  Mr.  Benja- 
min Jenks;  whose  book  of  devotions  has  deservedly 
passed  through  eleven  editions ,  is  truly  admirable 
for  the  sublimity,  spirituality,  and  propriety  of  the 
sentiments,  as  well  as  for  the  concise  form,  arid  pathe- 
tic turn  of  the  expression. — Whose  book  of  medita- 
tions, though  no  less  worthy  of  general  accejitance, 
has,  for  a  considerable  time,  been  almost  unknown 
and  extinct.  But  it  is  now  revived,  and  is  lately  le- 
published  in  two  octavo  volumes,  l)y  Mr.  James  Ri- 
vington.  For  which  service  he  hasmy  thanks,  and  I 
flatter  myself  he  will  have  the  thanks'  of  the  public : 
as  I  am  persuaded,  could  religion  and  virtue  speak,  he 
would  have  their  acknowledgments  also.  Since  few 
Treatises  are  more  happily  calculated  torepresent  re- 
ligion in  its  native  beauty,  and  to  promote  the  in;e  - 
ests  of  genuine  virtue. — On  which  account,  I  trust, 
the  candid  will  excuse  me.  and  the  judicious  will  not 
condemn  me,  even  though  the  recomm  ni'.afion  of 
those  devotions  and  of  these  mediations  may  ajrpear 
to  be  a  dig!  essioii  from  my  subject. 


A  DESCANT  UPON  CREATION. 


61 


the  firmament,  or  tread  the  soil,  or  swim 
the  wave  :  —  He,  who  spreads  his  ever-hos- 
pitable board  ;  who  admits  you  all  to  be  his 
continual  guests ;  and  suffers  you  to  want 
no  manner  of  thing  that  is  good  ; — He  was 
destitute,  afflicted,  tormented  ;  He  endured 
all  that  was  miserable  and  reproachfid,  in 
order  to  exalt  a  degenerate  race,  who  had 
debased  themselves  to  a  level  Vvith  the  beasts 
that  perish,  unto  seats  of  distinguished  and 
immortal  honour,  in  order  to  introduce  the 
slaves  of  sin,  and  heirs  of  hell,  into  mansions 
of  consummate  and  everlasting  bliss. 

Surely,  the  conteniplatioa  of  such  a  sub- 
ject, and  the  distant  anticipation  of  such  a 
hope,  may  almost  turn  earth  into  heaven, 
and  make  even  inanimate  nature  vocal  with 
praise.  Let  it  then  break  forth  from  every 
creature.  Let  the  meanest  feel  the  inspir- 
ing impulse  ;  let  the  greatest  acknowledge 
themselves  unable,  worthily  to  express  the 
stupendous  goodness. 

Praise  him,  ye  insects  that  crawl  on  the 
ground  !  who  though  high  above  all  height, 
humbled  himself  to  dwell  in  dust.  Birds 
of  the  ail-,  waft  on  your  wings  and  warble 
in  your  notes,  his  praise,  who  though  Lord 
of  the  celestial  abodes,  while  sojourning  on 
earth,  wanted  a  shelter,  commodious  as  yoiu- 
nests — Ye  rougher  world  of  brutes,  join 
with  the  gentle  songsters  of  the  shade,  and 
howl  to  him  your  hoarse  applause ;  who 
breaks  the  jaw-bones  of  the  infernal  lion  ; 
who  softeDS  into  mildness  the  savage  dis- 
position ;  and  bids  the  wolf  lie  dov/n,  in  a- 
micable  agreement  with  the  lamb.  Bleat 
out,  ye  hills  ;  let  broader  lows  be  respon- 
sive from  the  vales :  ye  forests  catch,  and 
ye  rocks  retain  the  inarticulate  hymn  ;  be- 
cause Messiah  the  prince  feeds  his  flock 
like  a  shepherd.  He  gathers  the  lambs 
vvith  his  arm  ;  he  carries  them  in  his  bosom  ; 
and  gently  leads  those  that  are  with  young. 
( Isa.  xl.  II.)  Wave,  ye  stately  cedars,  in 
sign  of  worship,  wave  your  branching  heads 
to  him,  who  meekly  bowed  his  own,  on  the 

accursed  tree Pleasing  prospects,  scenes 

of  beauty,  where  nicest  art  conspires  with 
lavish  nature,  to  form  a  paradise  below,  lay 
forth  all  your  charms,  and  in  all  your  charms 
confess  yourselves  a  mere  blank  compared 
vvith  his  amiableness,  who  is  the  "  fairest 
among  ten  thousand  and  altogether  lovely." 
— Drop  down,  ye  showers,  and  testify  as 
you  fall;  testify  of  his  grace,  which  descends 
more  copiously  than  the  rain,  distils  more 

sweetly  than  the  dew Let  sighing  gales 

breathe,  and  murmuring  rivulets  flow  ; 
breathe  and  flow  in  harmonious  consonance 
to  him,  whose  spirit  is  far  more  reviving 
than  the  cooling  breeze,  who  is  himself  the 
fountain  of  living  waters. 

Ye  lightnings !  blaze  to  his  honour,  ye 
thunders  sound  his  praise,  while  reverberat- 
ing clouds  return  the  roar,  and  bellowing 


oceans  propagate  the  tremendoiLS  anthem. 
— Mutest  of  creatures,  add  your  silent  ora- 
tory, and  display  the  triumphs  of  his  meek- 
ness ;  who  though  he  maketh  the  clouds  his 
chariot,  and  treadeth  upon  the  waves  of  the 
sea  J  though  the  thunder  is  his  voice,  and 
the  lightning  his  sword  of  justice  ;  yet 
amidst  the  most  abusive  and  cruel  injuries, 
^vas  submissive  and  lifted  not  his  hand,  was 
"dumb  and  opened  not  his  mouth." — Great 
source  of  day,  address  thy  radiant  homage 
to  a  far  sublimer  sun ;  write  in  all  thy  am- 
ple round,  with  every  lucid  beam,  O  write 
a  testimony  to  him,  who  is  the  brightness  of 
his  Father's  glory,  who  is  th,^  Sun  of  right- 
eousness to  a  sinful  world,  and  is  risen  ne- 
ver to  go  dolvn ;  is  risen  to  be  our  everlast- 
ing light Shine  clear,  ye  skies;  look  gay, 

thou  earth  ;  let  the  floods  clap  their  hands, 
and  let  every  creature  wear  a  smile  ;  for  he 
Cometh,  the  Creator  himself  cometh  to  be 
manifested  in  the  flesh  ;  and  with  him  comes 
pardon,  peace,  and  joy  ;  every  virtue  and  all 
felicity  comes  in  his  train — Angels  and 
archangels,  let  your  songs  be  of  Jesus,  and 
teach  the  very  heavens  to  echo  with  his 
adored  and  majestic  name.  Ye  beheld  him, 
with  greater  transports  of  admiration,  when 
you  attended  his  agony  in  the  garden,  and 
saw  him  prostrate  on  the  ground,  than  when 
you  beheld  universal  nature  rising  at  his 
call,  and  saw  the  wonders  of  his  creating 
might.  Tune  to  loftiest  notes  your  golden 
harps,  and  waken  raptmes  unknown  before 
even  in  heavenly  breasts,  while  all  that  has 
breath,  swells  the  concert  of  harmony  ;  and 
all  that  has  being  unites  in  the  tribute  of 
praise. 

Chiefly  let  man  exalt  his  voice  ;  let  man, 
with  distinguished  hosannas,  hail  the  Re- 
deemer. For  man  he  was  stretched  on  the 
racking  cross  ;  for  man,  he  was  consigned 
to  the  gloomy  sepulchre ;  for  man,  he  pro- 
cured grace  unmeasurable,  and  bliss  incon- 
ceivable  However  different,  therefore,  in 

yourage,  ormore  different  in  your  circumstan- 
ces, be  unanimous,  O  men  !  in  magnifying  a 
Saviour,  who  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  who 
gave  himself  a  ransom  for  all — Bend,  ye 
kings,  from  your  thrones  of  ivoiy  and  gold, 
in  your  robes  of  imperial  purple,  fall  pros- 
trate at  his  feet ;  who  forsook  a  nobler 
throne,  and  hiid  aside  more  illustrious  en- 
signs of  majesty,  that  you  might  reign  with 
God  for  ever  and  ever Children  of  pover- 
ty, meanest  of  mortals,  (if  any  can  be  call- 
ed poor  who  are  thus  enriched  ;  if  any  can 
be  accounted  mean  who  are  thus  ennobled,) 
rejoice,  greatly  rejoice  in  God  your  Saviour  ; 
who  chose  to  be  Indigent,  was  willing  to  be 
contemned ;  that  you  might  be  entitled  to 
the  treasures,  and  be  numbered  with  the 
princes  of  heaven.  Sons  of  affliction,  though 
harassed  with  pain,  and  innured  to  anguish, 
O  !  change  your  groans  into  songs  of  grati- 


A  DESCANT  UPON  CREATION. 


tilde :  let  no  complaining  voice,  no  jarring 
string  be  heard,  in  the  iniiversal  symphony, 
but  glorify  the  Lamb  even  in  the  fii'es  ;  (Isa. 
xxiv.  15.)  who  himself  bore  greater  tor- 
ment than  you  feel  ;  and  has  promised  you 
a  share  in  the  joy  which  he  inherits  ;  who 
has  made  your  sufferings  short,  and  will 
make  your  rest  eternal. — Men  of  hoary 
locks,  bending  beneath  a  weight  of  years, 
and  tottering  on  the  brink  of  the  grave  ;  let 
Christ  be  your  support  under  all  infirmities  ; 
lean  upon  Christ,  as  the  rock  of  your  salva- 
tion ;  let  his  name,  his  precious  name,  form 
the  last  accents  which  quiver  on  your  pale 
expiring  lips  ;— and  let  this  be  the  first  that 
lisps  on  your  tongues,  ye  tender  infants,  re- 
member your  Redeemer  in  your  earliest  mo- 
ments ;  devote  the  choice  of  your  hours  to 
the  learning  of  his  will,  and  the  chief  of 
your  strength  to  the  glorifying  of  his  name  ; 
who  in  the  perfection  of  health,  and  the 
very  prime  of  manhood,  was  content  to  be- 
come a  motionless  and  ghastly  corpse,  that 
you  might  be  girt  with  the  vigour,  and 
clothed  \vith  the  bloom  of  eternal  youth. 

Ye  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect !  who 
are  released  from  the  burden  of  the  flesh  ; 
and  freed  from  all  the  vexatious  solicitations 
of  corruption  in  yourselves  ;  delivered  from 
all  the  injurious  effects  of  iniquity  in  others  ; 
who  sojourn  no  longer  in  the  tents  of  strife, 
or  the  territories  of  disorder ;  but  are  re- 
ceived into  that  pure,  harmonious,  holy  so- 
ciety, where  every  one  acts  up  to  his  amia- 
ble and  exalted  character ;  where  God  him- 
self is  pleased  graciously  and  immediately 

to  preside You  find,  not  without  pleasing 

astonishment,  your  hopes  improved  into  ac- 
tual enjoyment,  and  your  faith  superseded 
by  the  beatific  vision  ;  you  feel  all  your  for- 
mer shyness  of  beha\dour,  happily  lost  in 
the  overflowings  of  unbounded  love  ;  and  all 
your  little  differences  of  opinion  entirely 
bore  down  by  tides  of  invariable  truth. 
Bless,  therefore,  with  all  your  enlarged 
powers,  bless  his  infinitely  larger  goodness  ; 
who,  when  he  had  overcome  the  sharpness 
of  death,  opened  the  gates  of  paradise,  open- 
ed the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  genera- 
tions, and  to  every  denomination  of  the 
faithful. 

Ye  men  of  holy  conversation  and  humble 
tempers,  think  of  him  who  loved  you,  and 
washed  you  from  your  sins  in  his  own 
blood  ;  think  of  him  on  your  silent  couch  ; 
talk  of  him  in  every  social  interview  ;  glory 
in  his  excellencies,  make  your  boast  of  his 
obedience,  and  add,  still  continue  to  add, 
the  incense  of  a  dutiful  life,  to  all  the  obla- 
tions of  a  grateful  tongue Weakest  of  be- 
lievers, who  go  mourning  imder  a  sense  of 
guilt,  and  conflicting  \vith  the  ceaseless  as- 
saults of  temptation,  put  off  your  sackcloth 
and  be  girded  with  gladness.  Because  .Je- 
sus is  as  merciful  to  hear,  as  he  is  mighty 


to  help.  Because  he  is  touched  with  the 
tenderest  sympathizing  concern,  for  all  your 
distresses  ;  and  he  lives,  ever  lives,  to  be 
your  advocate  with  the  Father. — Why  then 
should  uneasy  doubts  sadden  your  counten- 
ances ?  Why  should  desponding  fears  op- 
press your  soul  ?  Turn,  turn,  those  discon- 
solate sighs  into  cheerfid  hymns,  since  you 
have  his  powerful  intercession,  and  his  in- 
estimable merits,  to  be  your  anchor  in  all 
tribulations,  to  be  yoiu-  passport  into  eter- 
nal blessedness. 

Most  of  all,  ye  ministers  of  the  sanctu- 
ary, heralds  commissioned  from  above  ; 
lift  every  one  his  voice  like  a  trumpet,  and 
loudly  proclaim  the  Redeemer.  Get  ye  up, 
ye  ambassadors  of  peace,  get  ye  up  into  the 
high  mountains ;  and  spread  far  and  wide 
the  honoiu-s  of  the  Lamb  "  that  was  slain, 
but  is  alive  for  evermore."  Teach  every 
sacred  roof  to  resound  with  his  fame,  and 
every  human  heart  to  glow  with  his  love. 
Declare  as  far  as  the  force  of  words  will 
go,  declare  the  inexhausible  fulness  of  that 
great  atonement,  whose  merits  are  commen- 
surate with  the  glories  of  the  Divinity.* 
Tell  the  sinful  wretch,  what  pity  yearns  in 
Immanuel's  bowels ;  what  blood  he  has 
spilt,  what  agonies  he  has  endured,  what 
wonders  he  has  wrought,  for  the  salvation  of 
his  enemies.  Invite  the  indigent  to  be- 
come rich  ;  entreat  the  guilty  to  accept  of 
pardon,  because  with  the  crucified  Jesus  is 
plenteous  redemption,  and  all  sufficiency  to 

save While  you,    placed  in  conspicuous 

stations,  pour  the  joyful  sound,  may  I,  as  I 
steal  through  the  vale  of  humble  life,  catch 
the  pleasing  accents  !  For  me  the  author  of 
all  blessings  became  a  curse  :  for  me,  his- 
bones  were  dislocated,  and  his  flesh  was 
torn  ;  he  hung  with  streaming  veins,  and 
agonizing  soul  on  the  cross  for  me.  O  ! 
may  I  in  my  little  sphere,  and  amidst  the 
scanty  circle  of  my  acquaintance,  at  least 
whisper  these  glad  transporting  tidings  ? 
whisper  them  from  my  own  heart,  that  they 


*  If  in  this  place  and  others,  I  have  spoken  magni- 
ficently of  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  its  insuperable 
efficacy  to  expiate  guilt,  I  think  it  is  no  more  than  is 
expressed  in  a  very  celebrated  hymn,  written  by  one 
of  the  greatest  wits,  who  had  also  been  one  of  the 
greatest  libertines,  and  afterwards  commenced  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  penitents  in  France  ;  a  hymn, 
which  even  Mr.  Bayle  confesses  to  be  a  vei-y  fine  one, 
which  another  critic  calls  an  admirable  one,  and 
which  a  genius  superior  to  them  both,  recommends 
as  a  noble  one.  (See  Spect.  Vol.  vii.  No.  513.) 

The  author  having  acknowledged  his  crimes  to  be 
beyond  measure  heinous,  and  almost  beyond  forgive- 
ness provoking — so  provoking,  as  to  render  teai  s  from 
such  eyes  offensive,  and  prayers  from  such  lipsabomi- 
nable;  composes  himself  to  submit,  without  the  least 
repining  sentiment ;  to  submit  even  with  p.aiseand 
adoration,  to  the  most  dreadful  doom.  Accordingly, 
he  stands  in  resigned  expectation  of  being  instantly 
struck  by  the  bolts  of  vengeance  ;  but  with  a  turn  of 
thought  equally  surprising  and  sprightly,  with  afeith 
properly  founded  and  happily  firm,  he  adds. 

Yet  where !  O  where !  can  even  thy  thunders  fall  ? 
Christ's  blood  o'erspreadsai.d  shields  mefromihem  all. 


A  DESCANT   UPON  CREATION. 


63 


may  surely   reacli,  and  sweetly   penetrate 
theirs. 

But  wlien  men  and  angels  raise  the  grand 
hymn,  when  all  worlds  and  all  beings  add 
their  collective  acclamations  ;  this  full,  fer- 
vent, and  universal  chorus  will  be  so  infe- 
rior to  the  riches  of  the  Redeemer's  grace, 
so  disproportionate  to  the  magnificence  of 
his  glojy,  that  it  will  seem  but  to  debase  the 


unutterable  subject  it  attempts  to  exalt,  the 
loud  hallelujah  will  die  away,  in  the  so- 
lemn mental  eloquence  of  prostrate,  raptur- 
ous, silent  adoration. 

O  Goodness  infinite  !  goodness  immense ! 

And  love  that  passeth  knowledge  !— words  are  rain  , 

Language  is  lost  in  wonders  so  divine 

"  Come  then  expressive  silence  muse  his  praise," 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


ON    THE 


NIGHT, 


AND    THE 


STARRY    HEAVENS, 


A  WINTER-PIECE. 


•*;,Ji'  JIEDITATIONS  OF  III51  SHALL  EE  SWEET." PSALM  CIV.  34, 


TO 


PAUL   OIICHARD,    ESQ. 


of 


STOKE-ABBEY,  DEVONSHIRE. 


Dear  Sir, 
As  your  honoured  father  Avas  pleas- 
ed to  make  choice  of  me  to  answer 
in  your  name  at  the  font,  and  to  ex- 
ercise a  sort  of  guardianship  over 
your  spiritual  interests,  permit  me,  by 
putting  these  little  treatises  into  your 
hand,  to  fulfil  some  part  of  that  so- 
lemn obligation. 

Gratitude  for  many  signal  favours, 
and  a  conscientious  regard  to  my 
sacred  engagement,  have  long  ago 
inspired  my  breast  with  the  warmest 
wishes,  both  for  your  true  dignity, 
and  real  happiness.  Nor  can  1  think 
of  a  more  endearing,  or  a  more  ef- 
fectual way  of  advancing  either  the 
one  or  the  other,  than  to  set  before 
you  a  sketch  of  your  excellent  father's 
charactei'.  Illustrious  examples  are 
the  most  winning  incitements  to  vir- 
tue ;  and  none  can  come  attended 
with  such  particular  recommenda- 
tions to  you,  sir,  as  the  pattern  of 
that  worthy  person  from  whom  you 
derive  yoiu-  rery  being. 

A  most  cordial  and  reverential 
esteem  for  the  divine  word,  was  one 
of  his  remarkable  qualities.  Those 
oracles  of  Heaven  were  his  principal 
delight,  and  his  inseparable  compa- 
nions. Your  gardens,  your  solitary 
walks,  and  the  hedges  of  your  fields, 
can  witness  (Joshua  xxiv.  27.)  with 
what  an  unwearied  assiduity  he  ex- 


ercised himself  in  the  law  of  tlie 
Lord.  From  hence  he  fetched  his 
maxims  of  wisdom,  and  formed  his 
judgment  of  things;  the  saci'ed  pre- 
cepts were  the  model  of  his  tein[)or, 
and  the  guide  of  his  life  ;  while  the 
precious  promises  were  the  joy  of 
his  heart,  and  his  portion  for  ever. 

Improving  company  was  another 
of  his  most  relishing  pleasures.  Few 
gentlemen  were  better  furnished,  ei- 
ther with  richness  of  fancy,  or  copious- 
ness of  expression,  to  bear  a  shining 
part  in  conversation.  With  these 
talents  he  always  endeavoured  to 
give  some  useful,  generally  some  re- 
ligious, turn  to  the  discourse.  Nor 
did  he  ever  reflect  with  greater  com- 
placency on  his  social  hours,  than 
when  they  tended  to  glorify  the  eter- 
nal majesty,  and  to  waken  in  himself 
and  otliers  a  more  lively  spirit  of 
devotion. 

To  project  for  the  good  of  others, 
was  his  frequent  study  ;  and  to  car- 
ry those  benevolent  contrivances  in- 
to execution,  his  favourite  employ. 
When  visited  by  the  young  pers<)ns 
of  the  neighbourhood,  far  from  tak- 
ing an  ungraceful  pride  t(»  initiate 
them  in  debauchery,  or  confirm  them 
in  a  riotous  habit,  it  was  his  inces- 
sant aim,  by  finely-adapte<l  persua- 
sives, to  encourage  them  in  industry, 
and  establish  them  in  a  course  of  so- 


C8 


DEDICATION. 


liiiety,  to  gn;u'il  them  ag^aiust  the 
allureioents  of  vice,  and  animate 
them  with  the  principles  of  piety. 
A  noble  kind  of  hospitality  this  ! 
which  will  probably  transmit  its  be- 
neficial influence  to  their  earthly  pos- 
sessions, to  their  future  families,  and 
even  to  their  everlasting  state. 

A  conviction  of  human  indigence, 
and  a  thorough  persuasion  of  the 
divine  all-sufficiency,  induced  him  to 
be  frequent  in  prayer.  To  prostrate 
himself  in  profound  adoration,  be- 
fore that  infinitely  exalted  Being, 
who  dwells  in  light  inaccessible,  was 
his  glory ;  to  implore  the  continu- 
ance of  the  Almighty  favour,  and  the 
increase  of  all  Christian  graces,  was 
Iiis  gain,  in  those  moments,  no 
doubt,  he  remembered  you,  sir,  with 
a  particular  earnestness ;  and  lodged 
many  an  ardent  petition  in  the  court 
of  Heaven  for  his  infant  son.  Cease 
not  to  second  them  with  your  own 
devout  supplications,  tliat  they  may 
descend  upon  your  head,  "  in  the 
fulness  of  the  blessings  of  the  gospel 
of  peace." 

I'o  give  their  genuine  lustre  to  all 
his  other  endowments,  he  was  care- 
ful to  maintain  an  humble  mind. 
Thongh  his  friends  might  admire 
liis  superior  abilities,  or  his  acquaint- 
ance applaud  his  exemplary  beha- 
viour, he  saw  how  far  he  fell  short 
of  the  mark  of  his  high  calling ;  saw, 
and  lamented  his  defects  ;  saw,  and 
renounced  himself  ;  relying  for  final 
accejitance  and  endless  felicity  on 
a  better  righteousness  than  his  own, 
even  on  the  transcendently  perfect 
righteousness, and  inconceivably  pre- 
cious death  of  Jesus  the  Redeemer. 
This  was  the  rock  of  his  hope,  and 
the  very  crown  of  his  rejoicing. 

These,  sir,  are  some  of  the  distin- 
guishing characteristics  of  your  de- 
ceased parent.  As  you  had  the  mis- 
foitnne  to  lose  so  valuable  a  relative, 
before  you  was  capable   of  forming 


any  acquaintance  with  his  person, 
I  flatter  myself  you  will  the  more 
attentively  observe  his  pictui'e — this 
his  moral  picture  ;  designed,  not  to 
be  set  in  gold,  or  sparkle  in  enamel, 
but  to  breathe  in  your  spirit,  and  to 
live  in  all  your  conduct  ;  which, 
thoug'h  it  be  entirely  your  own,  cal- 
culated purely  for  yourself,  may  pos- 
sibly (like  the  family  pieces  in  your 
parlour,  that  glance  an  eye  upon  as 
many  as  enter  the  room)  make  s^mie- 
pleasing  and  useful  impression  on 
every  beholder.  May  every  one, 
charmed  with  tlie  beautiful  image, 
catch  its  resemblance  ;  and  each,  in 
its  respective  sphere,  "  go  and  do 
likewise." 

But  vou,  sir,  are  peculiarly  con- 
cerned to  copy  the  amiable  original. 
As  the  order  of  an  indulgent  Provi- 
dence has  made  you  lieir  of  the 
afRuent  circumstances,  let  not  a  gay 
and  thoughtless  inadvertence  cut  you. 
olf  from  the  richer  inheritance  of- 
these  noble  qualifications.  These 
will  be  your  security  amidst  all  the 
glittering  dangers  M'hich  are  insepa- 
rable from  blooming  years  and  an: 
elevated  situation  in  life.  These 
are  your  path,  your  siu'e  and  only 
path,  to  true  greatness,  and  solid 
happiness.  Tread  in  these  stej)S, 
and  you  cannot  fail  to  be  the  darling 
of  your  friends,  and  the  favourite^ 
of  heaven.  Tread  in  these  steps^ 
and  you  will  give  inexpressible  joy  to 
one  of  the  best  of  mothers  ;  you  will 
become  an  extensive  blessing  to  your 
fellow-creatures ;  and  which,  after 
such  most  engaging  motives,  is  scarce 
worthy  to  be  mentioned,  you  will  be 
the  delight,  the  honour,  and  the  boast 
of,  dear  sir,  your  very  afl^ectionate 
godfather,  and  most  faithful  hum- 
le  servant, 

JAMES  HERVEY. 


Weston-Favel,  near  Northampton,. 
July  14,  1747. 


PREFACE 


We  have  already  exercised  our  spe- 
culations on  the  Tombs  and  Flowers ; 
surveying-  nature,  covered  with  the 
deepest  hori'ors,  and  arrayed  in  the 
n  chest  beauties.  Allegory  taught 
many  of  the  oojects  to  speak  the  lan- 
guage of  virtue,  while  imagination 
lent  her  colouring  to  give  the  les- 
sons an  engaging  air.  And  this  with 
a  view  of  imitating  that  divine  in- 
rsfructor,  who  commissioned  the  lily 
i  a  her  silver  suit,  to  remonstrate  in 
the  ear  of  luibelieving  reason  ;  who 
sent  his  disciples  (men  ordained  to 
teach  the  universe)  to  loarn  max- 
ims of  the  last  importance,  from  the 
most  insignificant  birds  that  wander 
tlirough  the  paths  of  the  air ;  from 
the  very  meanest  herbs,  (Matth.  vi. 
26,  28,  29,  30,)  that  ai-e  scattered 
over  the  face  of  the  ground.* 


"  Celebrated  writers,  as  Demosthenes 
and  Cicero,  Thucydides  and  Livy,  are  ob- 
served to  have  a  style  peculiar  to  themselves. 
Now,  whoever  considers  the  discourses  of 
Christ,  will  find  him  distinguishing  himself 
by  a  style,  which  may  properly  be  called 
his  own.  Majestic,  yet  familiar,  happily 
uniting  dignity  with  condescension,  it  con- 
sists in  teaching  his  followers  the  sublimest 
truths,  by  spiritualizing  on  the  most  com- 
mon occurrences ;  which  besides  its  being 
level  to  the  lowest  apprehensions,  and  ad- 
mirably adapted  to  steal  into  the  most  inat- 
tentive heart,  is  accompanied  with  this  very 
singular  advantage,  that  it  turns  even  the 
sphere  of  business  into  a  school  of  instruc- 
tion; and  renders  the  most  ordinary  objects 
a  set  of  monitors,  ever  soliciting  our  re- 
gard because  ever  present  to  our  senses. — 
.So  that  1  believe,  it  may  be  said  of  this 
, amiable  method,  in  which  our  Lord  con- 
-vrycd,  as  well  as  of  that  powerful  energy 


Emboldened  by  the  kind  accep- 
tance of  the  preceding  sketches,  I 
beg  leave  to  confide  in  the  same  be- 
nevolence of  taste,  for  the  protection 
and  support  of  the  two  remaining  es- 
says ;  which  exhibit  a  prospect  of 
still  life,  and  grand  operation,  whicii 
moralize  on  the  most  composed,  an<l 
most  magnificent  appearances  of 
things  ;  in  which  Fancy  is  again 
suffered  to  introduce  her  imagery, 
but  only  as  the  handmaid  of  Truth, 
in  order  to  dress  her  person,  and  dis- 
play her  charms,  to  engage  the  at- 
tention, and  win  the  love  even  of  the 
gay  and  of  the  fashionable  ;  which 
is  more  likely  to  be  affected,  by 
forming  agreeable  pictures  of  na- 
ture, and  deriving  instructive  obae."- 
vations,  than  by  the  laborious  method 


which  attended  his  doctrines,  "  That  never 
man  spake  like  this  man." — The  harvest  ap- 
proaching, he  remitids  his  disciples  of  a  far 
more  important  harvest,  John  iv.  35.  Matt, 
xiii.  .39.  when  immortal  beings  shall  be  reap- 
ed from  the  grave,  and  gathered  in  from  all 
the  quarters  of  the  earth,  when  every  hu- 
man creature  shall  sustain  the  character  of 
valuable  wheat,  or  despicable  tares  ;  and 
accordingly  be  lodged  in  mansions  of  ever- 
lasting security,  or  consigned  over  to  the 
rage  of  unquenchable  fire — In  his  charge  to 
fishermen  when  tl>eyarecommencingpreach- 
ers,  Matth.  iv.  19,  he  exhorts  them,  con- 
formably to  the  nature  of  their  late  occupa- 
tion, to  use  the  same  assiduity  and  address 
in  winning  souls,  as  they  were  wont  to  ex- 
ercise in  catching  the  finny  prey — For  the 
farther  illustration  of  this  no  less  useful, 
than  curious  subject,  I  would  refer  my  read- 
er to  a  valuable  note  in  Sir  Isaac  Newton's 
Observations  on  the  I'ropheiies,  p  I  18.  ,llo. 
edition- 


70 


PREFACE. 


of  long-deduced  arguments,  or  close 
connected  reasonings.  The  contem- 
plation of  the  heavens  and  the  earth, 
of  their  admirable  properties  and 
beneficial  changes,  has  always  afford- 
ed the  most  exalted  gratification  to 
the  human  mind.  In  compliance 
with  this  prevailing  taste,  I  have 
drawn  my  serious  admonitions  from 
the  stupendous  theatre,  and  varie- 
gated scenery  of  rhe  universe  ;  that 
the  reader  may  learn  his  duty  from 
his  very  pleasures  ;  may  gather  wis- 
dom mingled  with  virtue,  from  the 
most  refined  entei'tainments,  and  no- 
blest delights. 

The  evening  drawing  her  sables 
over  the  Avorld,  and  gently  darken- 
ing into  Night,  is  a  season  peculiarly 
proper  for  sedate  consideration.  All 
circumstances  concur  to  hush  our 
passions,  and  soothe  our  cares,  to 
tempt  our  steps  abroad,  and  prompt 
our  thoughts  to  serious  reflection. 

Then  is  the  time 

For  those  whom  wisdom,  and  whom  nature 

charm, 
To  steal  themselves  from  the  degen'rate 

crowd, 
And  soar  above  this  little  scene  of  things  ; 
To  tread  low  thoughted  vice  beneath  their 

feet; 
To  soothe  the  throbbing  passions  into  peace, 
And  woo  lone  quiet  in  her  silent  walks.* 

The  favour  I  would  solicit  for  the 
first  of  the  following  compositions  is, 
that  it  may  be  permitted  to  attend  in 
such  i-etired  and  contemplated  ex- 
cursions, to  attend,  if  not  imder  the 
character  of  a  friend,  at  least  in  the 
humble  capacity  of  a  servant  or  a 
page ;  as  a  servant  to  open  the  door 

*  Thomson's  Autumn,  1,  973.  last  edit. 
12mo. 


of  meditation,  and  i-emove  every  im- 
pediment to  those  better  exercises  of 
the  mind,  which  blend  advantage 
with  amusement,  and  improve  while 
they  delight ;  as  a  page,  to  gather  up 
the  unstable  fluctuating  train  of  fan- 
cy, and  collect  her  fickle  powers  into 
a  consistent,  regular  and  useful  ha- 
bit of  thinking. 

The  other  conversant  among  the 
starry  regions,  would  lead  the  ima- 
gination through  those  beautiful 
tracts  of  unclouded  azure,  and  point 
out  to  the  judgment  some  of  those 
astonishing  particulars  which  so 
eminently  signalize  the  celestial 
worlds.  A  prospect  this  to  which 
curiosity  attracts  our  eyes,  and  to 
which  scripture  itself  often  directs 
our  study,  a  prospect  beyond  all 
others  most  excellently  calculated  to 
enlarge  the  soul,  and  ennoble  its  con- 
ceptions ;  to  give  the  grandest  ap- 
prehensions of  the  everlasting  God, 
and  create  sentiments  of  becoming 
superiority,  with  relation  to  all  tran- 
sitory interests;  in  a  word,  to  furnish 
faith  with  the  surest  foundation  for 
a  holy  afiiance  and  true  magnani- 
mity of  spirit,  to  aff"ord  piety  the 
strongest  motives,  both  for  a  lively 
gratitude,  and  profound  veneration. 
While  Galileo  lifts  his  tube,  and 
discovers  the  prodigious  magnitude 
of  those  radiant  orbs  ;  while  Newton 
measiu'es  their  amazing  distances, 
and  unites  the  whole  system  in  har- 
monious order  by  the  subtile  influ- 
ences of  attraction  ;  I  would  only, 
like  the  herald  before  that  illustrious 
Hebrew,  (Gen.  xli.  43.)  proclaim  at 
every  turn,  "  Bow  the  knee,  and 
adore  the  Almighty  Maker,  magnify 
his  eternal  name,  and  make  his  praise 
like  all  his  works,  to  be  glorious. 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


ON  I'HE 


NIGHT. 


The  business  of  the  day  dispatched,  and  the 
sultry  heats  abated,  invited  me  to  the  re- 
creation of  a  walk,  a  walk  in  one  of  the  fin- 
est recesses  of  the  country,  and  in  one  of 
the  most  pleasant  evenings  which  the  sum- 
mer season  produced. 

The  limes  and  elms,  uniting  their  branches 
over  my  head,  formed  a  verdant  canopy,  and 
cast  a  most  refreshing  shade.  Under  my 
feet  lay  a  carpet  of  nature's  velvet ;  grass 
intermingled  with  moss,  and  embroidered 
with  flowers.  Jessamines,  in  conjunction 
with  woodbines,  twined  around  the  trees  ; 
displaying  their  artless  beauties  to  the  eye, 
and  diffusing  their  delicious  sweets  through 
the  air.  On  either  side,  the  boughs,  round- 
ed into  a  set  of  regular  arches,  opened  a 
view  into  the  distant  fields,  and  presented 
me  with  a  prospect  of  the  bending  skies. 
The  little  birds,  all  joyous  and  grateful  for 
the  favours  of  the  light,  were  paying  their 
acknowledgments  in  a  tribute  of  harmony, 
and  soothing  themselves  to  rest  with  songs, 
while  a  French  horn  from  a  neighbouring 
seat,  sent  its  melodious  accents,  softened  by 
•the  length  of  their  passage,  to  complete  the 
concert  of  the  grove. 

Roving  in  this  agreeable  manner,  my 
thoughts  were  exercised  on  a  subject  still 
more  agreeable  than  the  season,  or  the 
scene,  I  mean  our  late  signal  victory  over 
the  imited  forces  of  intestine  treason,  and 
foreign  invasion,  a  victory  which  pours  joy 
through  the  present  age,  and  will  transmit 

its  intiuence  to  generations  yet  unborn 

Are  not  all  the  blessings  which  can  endear 
society,  or  render  life  itself  desirable,  cen- 
tered in  our  present  happy  constitntion,  and 
auspicious  government  ?  Wore  they  not  all 
■struck  at  by  that  inijiious  and  horrid  blow, 


meditated  at  Rome,  levelled  by  France,  and 
seconded  by  factious  spirits  at  home  ?  Who 
then  can  be  sufficiently  thankful  for  the  gra- 
cious interposition  of  Providence,  which 
has  not  only  averted  the  impending  ruin, 
but  tinrned  it,  with  aggravated  confusion,  on 
the  authors  of  our  troubles. 

Methinks,  every  thing  valuable  which  I 
possess  ;  every  thing  charming  which  I  be- 
hold, conspire  to  enhance  this  ever-memor- 
able event.  To  this  it  is  owing  that  I  caa 
ramble  unmolested  along  the  vale  of  private 
life,  and  taste  all  the  innocent  satisfactions 
of  a  contemplative  retirement. — Had  rebel- 
lion* succeeded  in  her  detestable  designs  ; 
instead  of  walking  with  security  and  com- 
placence in  these  flowery  paths,  I  might 
have  met  the  assassin  with  his  dagger,  or 
have  been  obliged  to  abandon  my  habita- 
tion, and  "  embrace  the  rock  for  a  shelter." 
— Farewell  then,  ye  fragrant  shades  ;  seats 
of  meditation  and  calm  repose !  I  should 
have  been  driven  from  your  loved  retreats, 
to  make  way  for  some  barbarous,  some  in- 
sulting victor.  Farewell  then,  ye  pleasing 
toils,  and  wholesome  amusements  of  my  ru- 
ral hours  !  I  should  no  more  have  reared 
the  tender  flower  to  the  sun  ;  no  more  have 
taught  the  espalier  to  expand  her  boughs  ; 
nor  have  fetched  any  longer  from  my  kit- 
chen-garden the  purest  supplies  of  health. 

Hiid  rebellion  succeeded  in  her  detesta- 
ble designs,  instead  of  being  regaled  with 
the  music  of  the  woods,  I  might  have  been 


•  Referring  to  the  rebellion  set  on  foot  in  the 
year  1745,  which  for  several  months  made  a  very 
alarming  progress  in  the  North  ;— but  was  happily 
cxiinfjuished  by  the  gloiioiis  anil  decisive  viclur^  at 
fulluLlen. 


72 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


alarmed  with  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  and 
all  the  thunder  of  war.  Instead  of  being 
entertained  with  this  beautiful  landscape,  I 
might  have  beheld  our  houses  ransacked, 
and  our  villages  plundered  :  I  might  have 
beheld  our  fenced  cities  encompassed  with 
armies,  and  oar  fruitful  fields  "  clothed  with 
desolation  : "  or  have  been  shocked  with  the 
more  frightful  images  of  garments  rolled  in 
blood,"  and  of  a  ruffian's  blade  reeking  from 
a  brother's  heart.  Instead  of  peace,  with 
lier  cheering  olives,  sheltering  our  abodes  ; 
instead  of  justice,  with  her  impartial  scale, 
securing  our  goods  ;  persecution  had  brand- 
ished her  sword,  and  slavery  clanked  her 
chains. 

Nor  are  these  miseries  imaginary  only, 
or  the  creatures  of  a  groundless  panic. 
There  are  in  a  neighbouring  kingdom,  who 
very  lately  experienced  them  in  all  their  ri- 
gour.* And  if  the  malignant  spirit  of  l*o- 
pery  had  forced  itself  into  oiu:  church  ;  if 
an  abjured  pretender  had  cut  his  way  to  our 
throne,  we  could  have  no  reason  to  expect 
a  mitigation  of  their  severity  on  our  be- 
half. But  supposing  the  tender  mercies  of 
a  bigoted  usurper  to  have  been  somewhat 
less  cruel  ;  where,  alas  !  would  have  been 
the  encouragement  to  cultivate  our  little 
portion  ;  or  what  pleasure  could  arise  from 
an  improved  spot ;  if  both  the  one  and  the 
other  lay  every  moment  at  the  mercy  of 
lawless  power  ?  This  imbittering  circum- 
stance would  spoil  their  relish  ;  and  by  ren- 
dering them  a  precarious,  would  render 
them  a  joyless  acquisition.  In  vain  might 
the  vine  spread  lier  purple  clusters,  in  vain 
•be  lavish  of  her  generous  juices,  if  tyranny, 
■like  a  ravenous  harpy,  should  be  always  ho- 
vering over  the  bowl,  and  ready  to  snatch  it 
from  the  lip  of  industry,  or  wrest  it  from 
the  hand  of  liberty. 

Liberty !  that  dearest  of  names  ;  and  pro- 
perty !  that  best  of  charters  ;  give  an  addi- 
tional, an  inexpressible  charm  to  every  de- 
lightful object.      See  how  the  declining  sun 

■  has  beautified  the  western  clouds  ;  has  ar- 
rayed them  in  crimson,   and  skirted  them 

-with  gold.  Such  a  refinement  of  our  do- 
mestic bliss  is  property,  such  an  improve- 
ment of  our  public  privileges  is  liberty — 
When  the  lamp  of  day  shall  entirely  with- 
draw his  beams,  there  will  still  remain  the 
same  collection  of  floating  vapours  j  but  O  ! 

■  how  changed,  how  gloomy  !  The  carnation- 
streaks  are  faded ;  the  golden  edges  are 
worn  away  ;  and  all  the  lovely  tinges  are 
lost  in  a  leaden-coloured  louring  sad)iess. 


•  See  a  Pamphlet  entitled  Popery  always  the  same, 
whi  -h  contains  a  narrative  of  the  persecutions  arA 
severe  hard  hips  lately  suffered  by  the  protestants  in 
the  southern  p?.rts  of  Fnuice  ;  and  r!oses  with  a  most 
seasonable,  slarmiiis;,  ar.d  spirited  address  to  the  in- 
habitanU  of  Gi«at  Britiia.     Printed  174t>. 


Such  woidd  be  the  aspect  of  all  these  scenes 
of  beauty,  and  all  these  abodes  of  pleasure, 
if  exposed  continually  to  the  caprice  of  ar- 
bitrary sway,  or  held  in  a  state  of  abject 
and  cringing  dependence. 

The  sun  has  almost  finished  his  daily 
race,  and  hastens  to  the  goal.  He  des- 
cends lower  and  lower,  till  his  chanot- 
wheek  seem  to  hover  on  the  utmost  verge 
of  the  sky.  What  is  somewhat  remarkable, 
the  orb  of  light  upon  the  point  of  setting, 
grows  considerably  broader.  The  shadows 
of  objects,  just  before  they  become  blended 
in  undistinguishable  darkness,  are  exceed- 
ingly lengthened* — Like  blessings  little 
prized  while  possessed ;  but  highly  esteem- 
ed, the  very  instant  they  are  preparing  for 
their  flight  ;  bitterly  regretted  when  once 
they  are  gone,  and  to  be  seen  no  more. 

The  radiant  globe  is  now  half  immersed 
beneath  the  dusky  earth,  or  as  the  ancient 
poet  speaks,   is    shooting   into  the  ocean, 

and  sinks  in  the  western  sea And  could 

I  view  the  sea  at  this  juncture,  it  woidd 
yield  a  most  amusing  and  curious  spectacle. 
The  rays,  striking  horizontally  on  the  liquid 
element,  give  it  the  appearance  of  floating 
glass  ;  or  reflected  in  many  a  different  di- 
rection, form  a  beautiful  multiplicity  of 
colours.  A  stranger,  as  he  walks  along  the 
sandy  beach,  and  lost  in  pensive  attention, 
listens  to  the  miirmurings  of  the  restless 
flood,  is  agreeably  alarmed  by  the  gay  decor- 
ations of  the  surface.  With  entertainment 
and  with  wonder,  he  sees  the  curling  waves, 
here  glistering  with  white,  there  glowing 
with  purple;  in  one  place  wearing  an  azure 
tincture,  in  another  glancing  a  cast  of  un- 
dulating green  ;  in  the  whole,  exhibiting  a 
piece  of  fluid  scenery,  that  may  vie  with  yon- 
der pensile  tapestries,  tliough  wrought  in 
the  loom,  and  tinged  with  the  dyes  of 
heaven. 

While  I  am  transported  by  fancy  to  the 
shores  of  the  ocean,  the  great  luminary  is 
sunk  beneath  the  horizon,  and  totally  liis- 
appears.  The  whole  face  of  the  ground  is 
overspread  with  shades  ;  or,  with  what  one 
of  the  finest  painters  of  nature  ciills  a  duu 
obscurity.  Only  a  few  very  superior  emin- 
ences are  tipt  with  streaming  silver.  The 
tops  of  groves  and  lofty  towers  catch  the 
last  smiles  of  day  ;f  are  still  irradiated  by 
the  departing  beams But  O  !  how  tran- 
sient is  the  distinction  !  how  momentary 
the  gift :  Like  all  the  blessings  which  mor- 
tals enjoy  below,  it  is  gone  almost  as  soon 
as  granted.      See  how  languishingly  it  trem- 


•  Majoresque  Ciidunt  altis  de  montibus  umbrae. — 

Virfr. 
i  See  this  remarkable  appearance  delicately  des- 
cribed ;  and  wrought  into  a  ccmparison,  whicli  in 
my  opinion  is  one  of  the  most  jiiat,  beautiful,  and  no- 
ble pie-crs  of  imagery  to  be  found  in  modem  poetr)-; 
Night  Thoughts,  No.  II.  p.  •!:>.  4to.  editioa. 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


73 


bles  on  tlie  leafy  spire,  and  glimmers  with 
e  dying  faintness,  on  the  mountain's  brow. 
The  little  vivacity  that  remains,  decays 
every  moment.  It  can  no  longer  hold  its 
station.  While  I  sj)eak,  it  expires,  and  re- 
signs the  world  to  the  gradual  approaches 
of  night. 

Now  twilight  gray 

Ha3  in  her  sober  iivery  all  things  clad.» 

Every  object  a  little  while  ago  glared 
with  light,  but  now  all  appears  under  a 
more  qualified  lustre.  The  animals  har- 
monize with  the  insensible  creation  ;  and 
what  was  gay  in  those,  as  well  as  glittering 
in  this,  gives  place  to  an  universal  gravity. 
In  the  meadows  all  was  jocund  and  sportive  ; 
but  now  the  gamesome  lambs  are  grown 
weary  of  their  frolics,  and  the  tired  shep- 
herd has  imposed  silence  on  his  pipe.  In 
the  branches,  all  was  sprightliness  and  song, 
but  now  the  lively  green  is  wrapt  in  the 
descending  glooms  ;  and  no  tunefid  airs  are 
heard,  only  the  plaintive  stock-dove  cooing 
mournfully  through  the  grove.  Should  I 
i!ow  be  vain  and  trifling,  the  heavens  and 
the  earth  would  rebuke  my  unseasonable  le- 
vity. Therefore,  be  these  moments  devot- 
ed to  thoughts  sedate  as  the  closing  day, 
solemn  as  the  face  of  things.  And  indeed, 
however  my  social  hours  are  enlivened  with 
innocent  pleasantry,  let  every  evening,  in  her 
sable  habit,  toll  the  bell  to  serious  consider- 
ation. Nothing  can  be  more  proper  for  a 
person  who  walks  on  the  borders  of  eterni- 
ty, and  is  hasting  continually  to  his  final 
audit ;  nothing  more  proper,  than  daily  to 
slip  away  from  the  circle  of  amusements, 
and  frequently  to  relinquisli  the  Inury  of 
business,  in  crder  to  consider  and  adjust 
"  the  things  that  belong  to  his  peace." 

Since  the  sun  is  departed,  from  whence 
can  it  jiroceed  that  I  am  not  involved  in 
pitchy  darkness  ?  Whence  these  remainders 
of  diminished  brightness,  which,  though 
scarcely  forming  a  refulgence,  soften  and 
soothe  the  horrors  of  night  ?  I  see  not  the 
shining  ruler,  yet  am  cheered  with  a  real 
though  faint  communication  of  his  splen- 
dour. Does  he  remember  us  in  his  pro- 
gress through  other  climes  ?  does  he  send  a 
detachment  of  his  rays  to  escort  us,  during 
his  personal  absence  ?  or  to  cover  (if  I  may 
use  the  military  term)  cur  retreat  from  the 
scene  of  action  ?  Has  he  bequeathed  us  a 
dividend  of  his  beams,  suflicient  to  render 
our  circumstances  easy,  and  our  situation 
agreeable,  till  sleep  pours  its  soft  impres- 
•sion  on  the  organs  of  sense  ;  till  sleep  sus- 
pends all  the  operations  of  om'  hands,  and 
entirely  supersedes  any  further  occasion  for 
the  light. 

No  ;  it  is  ill  judged  and  unreasonable  to 


ascribe  this  beneficent  conduct  to  the  sun. 
Not  unto  him,  not  unto  him ;  but  imto  his 
Almighty  Maker,  we  are  obliged  for  this 
pleasant  attendant,  this  valuable  legacy. 
The  gracioirs  Author  of  our  being  has  so 
disposed  the  collection  of  circumambient 
air,  as  to  make  it  productive  of  this  fine  and 
wonderful  effect.  The  sun-beams,  falling 
on  the  higher  parts  of  the  aereal  fluid,  in- 
stead of  passing  on  in  straight  lines,  are  bent 
inwards,  and  conducted  to  our  sight.  Their 
natiu'al  course  is  over-rule'd,  and  they  are 
bidden  to  wheel  about,  on  purpose  to  fa- 
vour us  with  a  welcome  and  salutary  visit. 
— By  which  means  the  blessing  of  light, 
and  the  season  of  business,  are  considerably 
prolonged  ;  and  what  is  a  very  endearing 
circumstance,  prolonged  most  considerably 
when  the  vehement  h,eats  of  summer  in- 
cline the  student  to  postpone  his  walk  till 
the  temperate  evening  prevails  ;  when  the 
important  laboiu-s  of  the  hiu-vest  c;ill  the 
husbandman  abroad  before  the  day  is  fully 
risen. 

After  all  the  ardonrs  of  the  sultry  day, 
how  reviving  is  this  coolness  !  This  gives 
new  verdure  to  the  fading  plants,  new  viva- 
city to  the  withering  flowers,  and  a  more  ex- 
quisite fragrance  to  their  mingled  scents. 
By  tliis,  the  idr  also  receives  a  new  force, 
and  is  (jualified  to  exert  itself  with  greater 
activity ;  qualified  to  brace  our  limbs,  to 
heave  our  lungs,  and  to  co-operate  with  a 
brisker  impulse  irr  pei^petuating  the  circu- 
lation of  our  blood.  This  I  might  call  the 
grand  idembic  of  nature,  which  distils  her 
most  sovereign  cordial,  the  refreshing  dews. 
Incessant  heat  Avould  rob  us  of  their  benefi- 
cial agency,  and  oblige  them  to  evaporate 
in  imperceptible  exhalations.  Turbulent 
winds,  or  even  the  gentler  motions  of  Au- 
rora's fan,  would  dissipate  the  rising  vapours, 
and  not  sufi^er  them  to  form  a  coalition. 
But  favoured  by  the  stillness,  and  condens- 
ed by  the  coolness  of  the  night,  they  imite 
in  pearly  drops,  and  create  that  finely  tem- 
pered humidity,  which  cheers  the  vegetable 
world,  as  sleep  exhilarates  the  animal. 

Not  unlike  to  these  are  the  advantages  of 
solitude.  The  world  is  a  troubled  ocean  ; 
and  who  can  erect  stable  purposes  on  its 
fluctuating  waves  ?  The  world  is  a  school 
of  wrong;  and  who  does  not  feel  himself 
warping  to  its  pernicious  influence  ?  *  On 
this  sea  of  glass  (Rev.  xv.  2.)  how  insen- 
sibly we  slide  from  our  own  steadfastness  ! 
Some  sacred  truth,  which  was  struck  in  live- 
ly characters  on  our  soids,  is  obscured,  if  not 
obliterated.  Some  worthy  resolution,  which 
heaven  had  wrought  in  our  breasts,  is  shak- 


Milt.  Pax-.  Lost,  Goo's,  iv.  I.  J03. 


*  Nunquam  a  turba  mores,  quos  extuli,  refera  A'.»- 
quidex  CO  quod  composiii,  turbatiir:  aliquid,  ex  hrs 
quaefugavi  retlit.  luimica  est  niuitoium  conversa- 
iio.—Henec. 


74 


CONTEiirLATIONS 


en,  if  not  overthrown.  Some  enti(nn<^  va- 
nity, which  we  had  solemnly  renounced, 
again  practises  its  wiles,  and  again  capti- 
vates our  affections.  How  often  lias  an 
unwary  glance  kindled  a  fever  of  irregular 
desire  in  our  hearts  ?  How  often  has  a 
word  of  applause  dropt  luscious  poison  into 
our  ears  ?  or  some  disrespectful  expression 
raised  a  gust  of  passion  in  our  bosoms  ?  Our 
innocence  is  of  so  tender  a  constitution,  that 
it  suffers  in  the  promiscuous  crowd.  Our 
purity  is  of  so  delicate  a  complexion,  that 
it  scarce  touches  on  the  world  without  con- 
tracting a  stain.  We  see,  we  hear,  mth  pe- 
ril. 

But  here  safety  dwells.  E  veiy  meddling 
and  intrusive  avocation  is  secluded.  Si- 
lence holds  the  door  against  the  strife  of 
tongues,  and  all  the  impertinencies  of  idle 
conversation.  The  busy  swarm  of  vain 
images,  and  cajoling  temptations,  which  be- 
set us,  with  a  buzzing  importunity,  amidst 
the  gaieties  of  life,  are  chased  by  these 
thickening  shades.  Plere  I  may  M'ithout 
distm-bance  commune  with  my  own  heart, 
and  learn  that  best  of  sciences,  to  know  my- 
self. Here  the  soul  may  rally  her  dissipat- 
ed powers,  and  grace  recover  its  native  ener- 
gy. This  is  the  opportunity  to  rectify  eve- 
ry evil  impression,  to  expel  the  poison,  and 
guard  against  the  contagion  of  corrupting 
examples.  This  is  the  place  where  I  may 
with  advantage  apply  myself  to  subdue  the 
rebel  within,  and  be  master,  not  of  a  scep- 
tre, but  of  mj'self.  Throng,  then,  ye  am- 
bitious, the  levees  of  the  powerful :  I  will 
be  punctual  in  my  assignations  with  soli- 
tude. To  a  mind  intent  u])on  its  own  im- 
provement, solitude  has  charms  incompara- 
bly more  engaging  than  the  entertainments 
presented  in  the  theatre,  or  the  honours 
conferred  in  the  drawing-room. 

I  Siiid  bolitude Am    I  then    alone  ? — 

It  is  true,  my  acquaintance  are  at  a  distance. 
I  have  stolen  away  from  company,  and  am 
remote  from  all  human  observation.  But 
that  is  an  alarming  thought, 

Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth 
Uuseen,  both  when  we  wake  and  when  we  sleep.* 

Perhaps  there  may  be  numbers  of  those 
invisible  beings  patrolling  this  same  retreat, 
and  joining  with  me  in  contemplating  the 
■Creator's  works.  Perhaps  those  minister- 
ing spirits  who  rejoice  at  the  conversion 
of  a  sinner,  and  hold  up  the  goings  of  the 
righteous,  may  follow  us  to  the  lonely  re- 
cess ;  and  even  in  our  most  solitary  mo- 
ments, be  constant  attendants.  What  a 
pleasing  awe  is  awakened  by  such  a  reflec- 
tion !  How  venerable  it  renders  my  retired 
•walks  !  I  am  struck  with  reverence,  as  un- 
der the  roof  of  some   sacred  edifice,  or  in 


the  presence-chamber  of  some  mighty  mon- 
arch. O  !  may  I  never  bring  any  pride  of 
imagination,  nor  indulge  the  least  dissolute 
affection,  where  such  refined  and  exalted  in- 
telligences exercise  their  watch  ! 

It  is  possible  that  I  am  encompassed  with 
such  a  cloud  of  witnesses  ;  but  it  is  certain 
that  God,  the  urfijiite  eternal  God,  is  now 
and  ever  with  me.  The  gi'eat  Jehovah, 
before  whom  all  the  angelic  armies  bow 
their  heads  and  veil  their  faces,  surrounds 
me,  supports  me,  pervades  me.  "  In  him 
I  live,  move,  and  have  my  being."  The 
whole  world  is  his  august  temple,  and  in 
the  most  sequestered  corner  I  appear  be- 
fore his  adorable  Majesty,  no  less  than  when 
I  worship  in  his  house,  or  kneel  at  his  al- 
tar. In  eveiy  place,  therefore,  let  me  pay 
him  the  homage  of  a  heart  cleansed  from 
idols  and  devoted  to  his  service.  In  every 
circumstance,  let  me  feel  no  ambition,  but 
to  please  him,  nor  covet  any  happiness,  but 
to  enjoy  him. 

How  sublime  is  the  description,  and  how 
striking  the  sentiment,  in  that  noble  pas- 
sage of  the  Psalms  :  Whither  shall  I  go 
from  thy  spirit,  or  whither  shall  I  flee  from 
thy  presence  ?  If  I  climb  up  into  the 
heights  of  heaven  thou  art  there  enthroned 
in  light.  If  I  go  down  to  the  depths  of  the 
grave,  thou  art  there  also  in  thy  pavilion  of 
darkness.  If  I  retire  to  the  remotest  eas- 
tern climes,  where  the  moniing  fii-st  takes 
wings  ;  if,  swifter  than  the  darting  ray,  I 
pass  to  the  opposite  regions  of  the  west, 
and  remain  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
sea  ;*  shall  I  in  that  distant  situation  be 
beyond  thy  reach,  or  by  this  sudden  transi- 
tion escape  thy  notice  ?  So  far  from  it,  that 
coidd  I,  with  one  glance  of  thought,  trans- 
poit  myself  beyond  all  the  boimds  of  crea- 
tion, I  shoidd  still  be  encircled  with  the 
immensity  of  thy  essence,  or  rather  still  be 
enclosed  in  the  hollow  of  thy  hand.  A\v- 
fid,  yet  delightful  truth  !  let  it  be  interwo- 
ven wth  every  thought,  and  become  one 
with  the  veiy  consciousness  of  my  exis- 
tence ;  that  I  may  continually  walk  with 
God,  and  conduct  myself  in  every  step  of 
my  behavioiu-,  "  as  seeing  Him  that  is  in- 
visible." 

They  are  the  happy  persons ;  felicity,  true 
felicity,  is  all  their  own,  who  live  under  an 
habitual  sense  of  God's  omnipresence,  and 
a  sweet  persuasion  of  his  special  love.  If 
dangers  threaten,  thvir  impregnable  defence 
is  at  hand.  Nothing  can  be  so  near  to  ter- 
rify, as  their  almighty  Guardian  to  secure 


Milt.  Tar.  Lost,  nook  iv.  ). 


*  Psalm  cxxxix.  7—!).  There  is,  I  think  an  addi- 
tional strength  and  beauty  in  the  thought,  if ,  with 
the  learned  Mr.  Mudge,  we  suppose  an  antithesis  be- 
tween the  two  clauses  of  the  last  verse,  as  there  evi- 
dently is  between  those  of  the  preceding,  and  that 
they  c-xprcss,  in  a  pofftical  style,  the  extiUTiitici  of  the 
I  cast  and  the  west. 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


13 


rtiem.  To  these,  the  hours  can  never  be 
tedious  ;  and  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  be 
alone.  Do  they  step  aside  from  the  occu- 
pations of  animal  life  ?  A  more  exalted  set 
of  employments  engage  their  attention. 
They  address  themselves  in  all  their  various 
acts  of  devotion,  to  their  heavenly  Father  ; 
who  now  sees  in  secret,  and  will  hereafter 
reward  them  openly.  They  spread  all  their 
Wants  before  his  indulgent  eye,  and  disbur- 
den all  their  sorrows  into  his  compassionate 
bosom.  Do  they  withdraw  from  human  so- 
ciety ?  They  lind  themselves  under  the  more 
immediate  regards  of  their  Maker.  If  they 
resign  the  satisfactions  of  social  intercourse, 
it  is  to  cultivate  a  correspondence  with  the 
condescending  Deity,  and  taste  the  plea- 
sures of  divine  friendship.  What  is  such  a 
state  but  the  very  suburbs  of  heaven  !  What 
is  such  a  conduct,  but  an  antepast  of  eter- 
nal blessedness  ! 

Now,  my  soul,  the  day  is  ended.  The  hours 
are  all  fled.  They  are  fled  to  the  supreme 
Judge,  and  have  given  in  their  evidence  ;  an 
evidence  registered  in  heaven,  and  to  be  pro- 
duced at  the  great  audit.  Happy  they  whose 
improvement  has  kept  pace  with  the  fleeting 
minutes,  who  have  seized  the  important  fu- 
gitives, and  engaged  them  in  the  pursuit  of 
wisdom,  or  devoted  them  to  the  service  of 
virtue. 

Fugitives  indeed  they  are.  Our  moments 
slip  away  silently  and  insensibly.  The  thief 
steals  notmore  unperceived  from  the  pillaged 
house ;  so  that  the  day  seems  to  be  closed 
almost  as  soon  as  it  dawned — And  will 
the  runagates  never  stop  ?  No  ;  wherever 
we  are,  however  employed,  time  pursues  his 
incessant  course.  Though  we  are  listless 
and  dilatory,  the  great  measurer  of  our  days 
presses  on  ;  still  presses  on  in  his  unwear- 
ied career,*  and  whirls  our  weeks,  and 
months,  and  years  away.  Is  it  not  then 
surprisingly  strange,  to  hear  people  complain 
of  the  tediousness  of  their  time,  and  how 
hea\'y  it  hangs  upon  their  hands  ?  to  see 
them  contrive  a  variety  of  amusing  artifices, 
to  accelerate  its  flight,  and  get  rid  of  its 
burden  !  Ah  !  thoughtless  mortals  !  Why 
need  you  urge  the  headlong  torrent  ?  Your 
days  are  swifter  than  a  post,  which,  carry- 
ing dispatches  of  the  last  importance,  with 
unremitted  speed  scours  the  road.  They 
pass  away  like  the  nimble  ships,  which 
have  the  wind  ia  their  wings,  and  skim 
along  the  watery  plain.  They  hasten  to 
their  destined  period  with  the  rapidity  of 
an  eagle  ;  which  leaves  the  stormy  blasts 
behind  her,  while  she  cleaves  the  air,  and 
darts  upon  her  prey  f 


Now  the  day  is  gone,  how  short  it  ap- 
pears !  When  my  fond  eye  beheld  it  in  per- 
spective, it  seemed  a  very  considerable 
space.  Minutes  crowded  upon  minutes, 
and  hours  ranged  behind  hoiu-s,  exhibited 
an  extensive  draught,  and  flattered  me  with 
a  long  progression  of  pleasures.  But,  upon 
a  retrospective  view,  how  wonderfully  is 
the  scene  altered!  the  landscape,  large  and 
spacious,  which  a  warm  fancy  drew,  brought 
to  the  test  of  cool  experience,  shrinks  into 
a  span.  Just  as  the  shores  vanish,  and 
mountains  dwindle  to  a  spot,  when  the  sail- 
or, surrounded  by  skies  and  ocean,  throws 
his  last  look  on  his  native  land.  How 
clearly  do  I  now  discover  the  cheat !  May 
it  never  impose  upon  my  unwary  imagina- 
tion again  !  I  find  there  is  nothing  abiding 
on  this  side  eternity.  A  long  duration  in 
a  state  of  finite  existence  is  mere  illusion. 

Perhaps  the  healthy  and  the  gay  may 
not  readily  credit  the  serious  truth  ;  espe- 
cially from  a  young  pen,  and  new  to  its 
employ.  Let  us  then  refer  ourselves  to 
the  decision  of  the  ancient.  Ask  some 
venerable  old  person,  who  is  just  marching 
off"  the  mortal  stage,  how  many  have  been 
the  days  of  the  years  of  thy  life  ?  ( Gen. 
xlvii.  8.  Heb.  Bib.)  It  was  a  monarch's 
question,  and  therefore  can  want  no  recom- 
mendation to  the  fashionable  world.  Ob- 
serve how  he  shakes  his  hoary  locks,  and 
from  a  deep-felt  conviction  replies,  "  Four- 
score years  have  finished  their  rounds,  to 
furrow  these  cheeks,  and  clothe  this  head  in 
snow."  Such  a  term  may  seem  long  and 
large  to  inconsiderate  youth  ;  but,  oh  ! 
how  short,  how  scanty,  to  one  that  has 
made  the  experiment !  Short  as  a  gleam  of 
transient  sun-shine  ;  scanty  "  as  the  sha- 
dow that  departeth."  RIethinks,  it  was 
but  yesterday  that  I  exchanged  my  childish 
sports  for  manly  exercises  ;  and  now  I  am 
resigning  them  both  for  the  sleep  of  death. 
As  soon  as  we  are  bom,  we  begin  to  draw 
to  our  end  ;  and  how  small  is  the  interval 
between  the  cradle  and  the  tomb  !  Oh,  may 
we  believe  this  testimony  of  mature  age  ! 
May  every  evening  bring  it  with  clearer 
evidence  to  our  minds.  And  may  we 
form  such  an  estimate  of  the  little  pittance 
while  it  is  upon  the  advancing  hand,  as  we 
shall  certainly  make  when  the  sands  are  all 
run  down. 

Let  me  add  one  reflection  on  the  work 
to  be  done,  while  this  shuttle  is  flying 
through  the  loom  ;*  a  work  of  no  small 


«  Sed  fugit  inteien,  fufjit  irrcparabile  tempus.— riV^'. 
t  Job  ix.  '2.'),  £().  By  these  tlirc-e  very  ex|)iessive 
images,  the  insnircd  poet  represents  the  uninicnriit- 
ted  and  rapid  tliRht  of  time.  The  passage  it  illvis- 
irated  with  great  jiulgnieiit  and  equal  delicacy,  in 


Dr.  Gray's  most  ingenious  abridgment  of  Schultens. 
Quae  tribus  in  dementis  velocissima,  hie  admirabili 
cum  emphasi  congeruntur.  In  terris,  nil  pernicius 
ciirsorc,  et  quidem  laeti  quid  ferente.  K?.pidius  ta- 
nien  adhuc  undas,  non  secant  sed  sujiervolant,  navia- 
lo  papyro  contexta.  Omnium  rapidissime  aereni 
grandilius  alias  permetitur  a(iuila,  pvaecii)ili  li'psu 
luens  in  pr. 

*  My  (lays  are  swifter  than  a  weaver's  shultl?,  Jab 
vii.  (j. 


■^6 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


difficulty,  yet  of  the  utmost  con«cquencc. 
Hast  thou  not  seen,  hast  thou  not  known 
the  excellent  of  the  earth,  who  were  living 
images  of  (heir  Maker  ?  His  divme  likeness 
Was  transfused  into  their  heai'ts,  and  beamed 
forth  in  all  their  conduct  ;  beamed  forth  in 
meekness  of  wisdom  and  purity  of  affection  ; 
in  all  the  tender  offices  of  love,  and  all  the 
boble  efforts  of  zeal.  To  be  stamped  with 
the  same  beautiful  signature,  and  to  be 
followers  of  them  as  they  were  of  Christ  ; 
this,  this  is  thy  business  :  On  the  accom- 
plishment of  this,  thy  eternal  all  depends. 
And  will  an  affair  of  such  unspeakable 
weight  admit  of  a  moment's  delay,  or  con- 
sist with  the  least  remissness ;  especially 
since  much  of  thy  appointed  time  is  already 
elapsed,  and. the  remainder  is  all  uncertain- 
ty, save  only  that  it  is  in  the  very  act  to  Hy  ? 
Or,  sup])ose  thou  hast  made  a  covenant  with 
the  grave,  and  wast  assured  of  reaching  the 
age  of  Methuselah,  how  soon  would  even 
such  a  lease  expire  !  Extend  it  if  you 
please  still  further,  and  let  it  be  co-exis- 
tent with  nature  itself.  How  inconsidera- 
ble is  the  addition  ;  for,  yet  a  very  little 
while,  and  the  commissioned  archangel  lifts 
up  his  hand  to  heaven,  and  swears  by  the 
almighty  name,  that  time  shall  be  no  lon- 
ger.* Then,  abused  opportunities  will 
never  return,  and  new  opportunities  will 
iiever  more  be  offered.     Then  should  negli- 


*  This  alludes  to  the  bei^inning  of  Revelations,  cliap. 
10  ;  which  abstracted  from  its  spiritual  meaning,  and 
considered  only  as  a  stalely  piece  o.' machinery,  well 
deserves  our  attention  ;  and  I  will  venture  to  say  has 
not  its  superior,  perhaps  not  its  equal  in  any  of  the 
most  celebrated  masters  of  Greece  and  Rome. — All 
that  is  gloomy  or  beautiful  in  the  atmosphere,  all 
that  is  striking  or  magnificent  in  every  element,  is 
taken  to  heighten  the  idea.  Yet  nothing  is  dispro- 
portionate, but  an  uniform  air  of  inetfable  majesty, 
greatens,  exalts,  and  ennoble*  the  whole.  Be  pleased 
to  rbserye  the  aspect  of  this  august  personage;  all  the 
brightness  of  the  sun  shines  in  his  countenance,  and 
all  the  rage  of  the  fire  burns  in  his  feet.  See  his  ap- 
parel; the  clouds  compose  his  robe,  and  the  drapery 
of  the  sky  floats  upon  his  shoulders ;  the  rainbow 
forms  his'diadem,  and  that  which  "compasseth  the 
heaven  with  a  <;lorious  circle,"  is  the  ornament  of  his 
head.  Behold  his  attitude;  one  foot  stands  on  the 
ocean,  the  other  rests  on  the  land.  The  wide  ex- 
tended earth  and  the  world  of  waters,  serve  as  pedes- 
tals for  those  mighty  columns.  Consider  the  action ; 
his  hand  is  lifted  up  to  the  height  of  the  stars.  He 
speaks,  and  the  regions  of  the  firmament  echo  with 
the  mighty  accents,  as  the  midnight  desert  resounds 
■with  the  lion's  roar.  The  artillery  of  the  skies  is  dis- 
charged at  the  signal ;  a  peal  of  sevenfold  thunders 
spreads  the  alarm,  and  prepares  the  univ  erse  to  receive 
•his  orders.  To  finish  all,  and  give  the  highest  gran- 
deur, as  well  as  the  utmost  solemnity  to  the  represen- 
tation, hear  the  decree  that  issues  from  his  mouth. 
He  swears  by  Him  that  liveth  for  ever  and  ever.  In 
whatever  manner  so  majestic  a  person  had  expressed 
himself,  he  could  not  fail  of  commanding  universal 
attention.  But  when  he  confirms  his  speech  by  a 
most  sacred  an  1  inviolable  oath,  we  are  not  only 
wrapt  up  in  silciit  suspense,  but  overwhelmed  with 
the  profoundest  awe.  He  swears  that  time  shall  be 
no  longer  !  Was  ever  voice  so  full  of  terror  ;  so  big 
with  wonder!  It  pr.iclaims  not  the  fallof  empires,  but 
the  final  period  of  things.  It  strikes  off  the  wheels  of 
•nature;  bids  ai;es  ail  generations  cease  to  roll ;  and, 
with  one  potent  word  consigns  a  whole  world  over  to 
■  dissolution.  This  is  trae  among  a  multitude  of  very 
sublime  an-.l  masterly  strokes  to  be  found  in  that  too 
•much  nsglected  book,  the  Bible. 


gent  mortals  wish,  wish  ever  so  passionate- 
ly for  a  few  hours,  a  few  moments  only,  to 
be  thrown  back  from  the  opening  eternity, 
thousands  of  worlds  would  not  be  able  to 
procure  the  grant. 

Shall  I  now  be  industrious  to  shorten 
what  is  no  longer  than  a  span,  or  to  quick- 
en the  pace  of  what  is  ever  on  the  wing  ? 
Shall  I  squander  away  what  is  unutterably 
i4nportant  while  it  lasts,  and  when  once  de- 
parted, is  altogether  irrevocable  ?  O  !  my 
soul  forbear  the  folly,  forbear  the  desperate 
extravagance.  Wilt  thou  chide  as  a  loiter- 
er the  arrow  that  boundeth  from  the  string, 
or  sweep  away  diamonds,  as  the  refuse  of 
thy  house  ?  Throw  time  away  !  astonishing, 
ruinous,  irreparable  profuseness  !  Throw 
empires  alvay,  and  be  blameless ;  but,  O  !  be 
parsimonious  of  thy  days  ;  husband  thy  pre- 
cious hours.  They  go  connected,  indissolu- 
bly  connected,  with  heaven  or  hell.*  Im- 
proved, they  are  a  sure  pledge  of  everlasting 
glory ;  wasted,  they  are  a  sad  jireface  to 
never  ending  confusion  and  anguish. 

What  a  profound  silence  has  composed 
the  world  !  So  profoimd  is  the  silence,  that 
my  very  breath  seems  a  noise  ;  the  ticking 
of  my  watch  is  distinctly  heard ;  if  I  do  but 
stir,  it  creates  a  disturbance.  There  is  now 
none  of  that  confused  din  from  the  tumul- 
tuous city;  no  voice  of  jovial  rustics  from 
the  neighbouring  meadow  ;  no  chirping  me- 
lody from  the  shady  thicket.  Every  lip  is 
sealed ;  not  the  least  whisper  invades  the 
air  ;  nor  the  least  motion  rustles  among  the 
boughs.  Echo  herself  sleeps  unmolested. 
The  expanded  ear,  though  all  attention, 
catches  no  sound  but  the  liquid  lapse  of  a 
distant  murmuring  stream. 

All  things  are  hush'd,  as  nature's  self  lay  dead. 

If,  in  the  midst  of  this  deep  and  universal 
composure,  ten  thousand  bellowing  thunders 
should  burst  over  my  head,  and  rend  the 
.skies  with  their  united  voUies,  how  shoidd 
I  bear  so  unexpected  a  shock  ?  It  would 
stun  my  senses,  and  confound  my  thoughts, 
I  should  shudder  in  every  limb,  perhaps 
sink  to  the  earth  with  tenor.  Consider 
then,  O  mortals  !  consider  the  much  more 
prodigious  and  amazing  call  which  will  ero 
long  alarm  your  sleeping  bones.  When  the 
tenants  of  the  tomb  have  slumbered  in  the 
most  undisturbed  repose,  for  a  multitude  of 


•  I  remember  to  have  seen  upon  a  sun-dial  in  a 
physician's  garden  at  Northampton,  the  following  in- 
scription, wliich,  I  think,  is  the  most  proper  motto 
I  for  the  instrument  that  measures  our  time,  and  the 
I  most  striking  admonition  which  can  possibly  be  pre- 
I  sented  to  every  eye  that  glances  upon  it ;  ff''  '""•  "")- 
'  inento  pendi-t  eternitas.  The  weighty  sen^e  of  which 
I  I  know  not  how  to  express  in  English  more  happily 
than  in  those  words  of  Dr.  Watts  : 

Good  (Jod  !  on  what  a  slender  thread 
\  (Or,  on  what  a  moment  of  time) 

I  Hang  everlasting. things  ! 


ON  TiiK  night; 


IT 


flf^ps  ;  what  an'  inconceivable  consternation 
must  the  shout  of  the  archangel,  and  the 
trump  of  God  occasion !  will  it  not  wound  the 
ear  of  the  ungodly,  and  affright  even  to  dis- 
traction, the  impenitent  sinner?  The  stupen- 
dous peal  will  sound  through  the  vast  expanse 
of  heaven,  will  shake  the  foimdations  of  na- 
ture, and  pierce  even  the  deepest  recesses  of 
the  grave.  And  how,  O  !  how  will  the  pri- 
soners of  divine  justice  be  able  to  endure 
that  tremendous  summons  to  a  far  more 
tremendous  tribunal  ?  Do  thou,  my  soul, 
listen  to  the  still  voice  of  the  gospel.  At- 
tend in  this  thy  day,  to  the  gracious  invita- 
tions of  thy  Saviour.  Then  shall  that 
great  midnight  cry  lose  its  horror,  and  be 
music  in  thy  ears.  It  shall  be  welcome  to 
thy  reviving  clay,  as  the  tidings  of  liberty  to 
the  dungeon  captive,  as  the  year  of  Jubilee 
to  tlie  harassed  slave.  This,  this  shall  be 
its  charming  import,  "  Awake  and  sing,  ye 
that  dwell  in  the  dust."  (Isa.  xxvi.  19.) 

What  a  general  cessation  of  affairs  has 
this  dusky  hour  introduced  !  A  little  while 
ago,  all  was  hurry,  hurry  ;  life  and  activity 
exerted  themselves  in  a  thousand  busy 
forms  ;  the  city  swarmed  with  passing  and 
rejjassing  multitudes  ;  all  the  country  was 
sweat  and  dust ;  the  air  floated  in  peqietual 
agitation,  by  the  flitting  birds,  and  hunnning 
bees.  Art  sat  prying  with  her  jjiercing 
eyes,  while  industry  plied  her  restless  hands. 
But  see  how  all  this  fervent  and  impetuous 
bustle  is  fled  with  the  setting  sun.  The 
beasts  are  sunk  to  their  grassy  couch  ;  and 
the  winged  people  are  retired  to  their  downy 
nests.  The  hammer  has  resigned  its  sound- 
ing task,  and  the  file  ceases  to  repeat  its  fly- 
ii;g  touches.  Shut  is  the  well  frequented 
shop,  and  its  threshold  no  longer  worn  by 
the  feet  of  numerous  customers.  The  vil- 
lage swain  lies  drowned  in  slumbers ;  and 
even  his  trusty  dog,  who  for  a  considerable 
time  stood  sentry  at  the  door,  is  extended 
at  his  ease,  and  snores  with  his  master.  In 
every  place,  toil  reclines  her  head,  and  ap- 
plication folds  her  arms.  All  interests 
seem  to  be  forgot ;  all  pursuits  are  suspend- 
ed ;  all  employment  is  sunk  away — sunk 
away  with  those  fluttering  myriads  which 
lately  sported  in  the  sun's  departing  rays. 
It  is  like  the  Sabbath  of  universal  nature, 
or  as  though  the  pulse  of  life  stood  still. 

Thus  will  it  be  with  our  infinitely  mo- 
mentous concerns,  when  once  the  shadows 
of  the  evening  (that  long  evening  which 
follows  the  footsteps  of  death)  are  stretch- 
ed over  us.  The  dead  cannot  seek  unto 
God  ;  the  living,  the  living  alone,  are  pos- 
sessed of   this    inestimable    opportunity.  * 


*  Behold  !  now  is  the  accepted  time.  Behold  !  now 
is  the  day  of  salvation.     2  (!or.  vi.  2. 

Haste,  haste,  he  lies  in  wait,  he'satthe  door. 
Insidious  death  !  Should  his  strong  hand  arrest, 
No  composition  sets  the  prisoner  tree. 


"  There  is  no  work  or  device,  no  repentance 
or  amendment,  in  the  grave,*  whither  wc- 
arc  all  hasting."  "When  once  that  closing 
scene  is  iidvanced,  we  shall  have  no  other 
part  to  act  on  this  earthly  theatre.  Then' 
the  .sluggard,  who  has  slumbered  awny  life 
in  a  criminal  inactivity,  must  lie  down  in 
liopeless  distress  and  everlasting  sorrow. 
Then  that  awful  doom  will  tuke  jilace  ; 
"  He  that  is  holy,  let  him  be  holy  still  ; 
and  he  that  is  filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  for 
ever. 

Is  it  so,  my  soul  ?  Is  this  the  only,  only 
time  allotted  for  obtaining  the  great  reward, 
and  making  thy  salvation  sure  ?  and  art 
thou  lulled  in  a  vain  security,  or  dreaming 
in  a  supine  inadvertency?  Start,  O  !  start 
from  thy  trance.  Gird  up  the  loins  of  thy 
mind,  and  work  while  it  is  day.  Improve 
the    present    seed-time,   that   eternity  may 

yield  a  joyful  harvest We  especially,  who 

are  watchmen  in  Israel,  and  ministers  of  the 
glorious  gospel ;  may  we  be  awakened,  by 
this  consideration,  to  all  assiduity  in  our 
holy  office  !  Some  or  other  of  our  people 
are  ever  and  anon  departing  into  the  invisi- 
ble state  ;  all  our  friends  are  making  inces- 
sant approaches  to  their  long  home  ;  and 
we  ourselves  shall  very  shortly  be  transmit- 
ted to  the  confinement  of  the  tomb.  Tlii? 
is  the  favourable  juncture  wherein  alone 
we  can  contribute  to  their  endless  welfare. 
This  is  the  crisis,  the  all-important  crisis 
of  their  final  felicity.  Instantly,  therefore, 
let  us  pour  in  our  wholesome  instructions  \ 
instantly  let  us  ply  them  with  our  earnest 
exhortations.  A  moment's  delay  may  be 
an  irreparable  loss  ;  may  be  irretrievable 
ruin.  While  we  procrastinate  a  fatal 
stroke  may  intervene,  and  place  us  beyond 
the  power  of  administering,  or  place  them 
beyond  all  possibility  of  receiviiig,  any  spi- 
ritUcil  good.f 


*  They  who  are  gone  down  to  the  grave  are  repre- 
sented, Isa.  xxxviii.  II,  by  the  phrase,  rendered  by 
Vitringa,  those  that  inhabit  the  land  ofititermis.i'nin 
or  cessation  ;  which  prevents  all  appearance  of  tau- 
tology in  the  sentence ;  and  is,  I  think,  a  valuable  im- 
provement ofthe  translation,  as  it  conveys  an  idea  not 
only  distinct  from  the  preceding,  but  of  a  very  poe- 
tical and  very  afflicting  nature;  such  as  was  perfectly 
natural  for  the  royal  singer  and  royal  sufferer  to  dwell 
upon  in  his  desponding  moments.  Thus  interpreted, 
the  sense  will  run;  "I  shall  see  man  no  more;  I 
shall  be  cut  off  from  the  cheerful  ways  of  men,  and 
all  the  sweets  of  human  society  ;  and,  what  is  a  fur- 
ther aggravation  ofthe  threatened  stroke,  I  shall,  by 
its  takmg  place,  be  numbered  with  those  that  inherit 
the  land  of  cessation  and  inactivity ;  where  there  will 
be  no  more  possibility  of  contributing  to  the  happi- 
ness of  my  kingdom;  no  more  opportunity  of  ad- 
vancing my  Creator's  glory,  or  of  making  my  owrt 
final  salvation  sure."  A  sentiment  like  this  is  grand, 
important,  and  full  of  Ix-nevolence ;  removes  all  sus- 
picion of  unbecoming  pusillanimity,  and  does  the 
highest  honour  to  the  monarch's  character. 

\  The  case  represented  by  the  prophet  (1  Kings 
XX.  40.)  seems  perfectly  applicable  on  this  occasion. 
As  thy  servant  was  busy  here  and  there,  he  was  gone. 
So,  whili-  we  are  either  remiss  in  our  function,  or 
laying  ourselves  out  upon  inferior  cares,  the  people 
of  our  charge  may  be  gone; — gone  beyond  the  inllu- 
ence  of  our  counsels;  Deyond  the  reach  of  our  pray- 
ers ;  gone  into  the  unchangeable  afid  eternal  state. 


78 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


How  fi-eqtieiitly  is  the  face  of  nature 
changed  ;  and  by  changing  made  more 
agreeable  !  The  long  continued  glitter  of 
the  day  renders  the  soothing  shades  of  the 
evening  doubly  welcome.  Nor  does  the 
morn  ever  purple  the  east  with  so  engaging 
a  lustre,  as  after  the  gloom  of  a  dark  and 
dismal  night.  At  present  a  calm  of  tran- 
quillity is  spread  through  the  imiverse. 
The  weary  winds  have  forgot  to  blow. 
The  gentle  gales  have  fanned  themselves 
asleep.  Not  so  much  as  a  single  leaf  nods. 
Even  the  quivering  aspen  rests.  And  not 
one  breath  curls  over  the  stream.  Some- 
times, on  the  contrary,  the  tempest  sum- 
mons all  the  forces  of  the  air,  and  pours  it- 
self with  resistless  fury  from  the  angry 
north.  The  whole  atmosphere  is  tossed 
into  tumultuous  confusion,  and  the  wateiy 
world  is  heaved  to  the  clouds.  The  as- 
tonished mariner,  and  his  straining  vessel, 
now  scale  the  rolling  mountain,  and  hang 
dreadfully  visible  on  the  broken  siu-ge  ; 
now  shoot  with  headlong  impetuosity  into 
the  yawning  gulf,  and  neither  hulk  nor 
mast  is  seen.  The  storm  sweeps  over  the 
continent  ;  raves  along  the  city  streets  ; 
struggles  through  the  forest  boughs  ;  and 
terrifies  the  savage  nations  with  a  howl 
more  wildly  horrid  than  their  own.  The 
knotty  oaks  bend  before  the  blast ;  their 
ii'on  trunks  groan,  and  their  stubborn  limbs 
are  dashed  to  the  ground.  The  lofty  dome 
rocks ;  and  even  the  solid  tower  totters  on 
its  basis. 

Such  variations  are  kindly  contrived, 
and  vnth  an  evident  condescension  to  the 
fickleness  of  our  taste.  Because  a  perpe- 
tual repetition  of  the  same  objects  would 
create  satiety  and  disgust  ;  therefore  the 
indulgent  Father  of  our  race  has  diversified 
the  universal  scene,  and  bid  every  appear- 
ance bring  with  it  the  charm  of  novelty. 
This  circumstance  is  beneficial,  as  well  as 
entertaining.  Providence,  ever  gracious  to 
mortals,  ever  intent  upon  promoting  our 
felicity,  has  taken  care  to  mingle,  in  the 
constitution  of  things,  what  is  pleasing  to 
our  imagination  with  what  is  serviceable  to 
our  interests.  The  piercing  winds,  and 
rugged  aspect  of  winter,  render  the  balmy 
gales  and  flowery  scenes  of  spring  peculiar- 
ly delightful.  At  the  same  time,  the  keen 
frosts  mellow  the  soil,  and  prepare  it  for 
the  hand  of  industry.  "The  rushing  rains 
impregnate  the  glebe,  and  fit  it  to  become 
the  magazine  of  plenty.  The  earth  is  a 
great  laboratoiy  ;  and  December's  cold  col- 
lects the  gross  materials,  which  are  subli- 
mated by  the  refining  warmth  of  May. 
The  air  is  a  pure  elastic  fluid  ;  and  were  it 
always  to  remain  in  this  motionless  seren- 
ity, it  would  lose  much  of  its  active  spring  : 
were  it  never  agitated  by  those  wholesome 
concussions,  it  would  contract  a  noisome, 


perhaps  a  pestilential  taint.  In  whicS 
cases,  our  respiration,  instead  of  purifying, 
would  corrupt  the  vital  juices ;  instead  of 
supplying  us  with  refreshment,  woidd  be  a 
source  of  diseases  ;  or  every  gasp  we  drew 
might  be  unavoidable  death.*  How  then 
should  we  admire,  how  should  we  adore, 
that  happy  imion  of  benignity  and  wisdom, 
wh-ich,  from  a  variety  of  dispensations,  pro- 
duces an  xmiformity  of  good  !  produces  a 
perpet\ial  succession  of  delights,  and  an 
uninterrupted  series  of  advantages. 

The  darkness  is  now  at  its  height ;  and 
I  cannot  but  admire  the  obliging  manner 
of  its  taking  place.  It  comes,  not  with  a 
blunt  and  abnipt  incivility,  but  makes  gen- 
tle and  respectful  advances.  A  precipitate 
transition  from  the  splendours  of  day  to  all 
the  horrors  of  midnight  woidd  be  inconve- 
nient and  frightful.  It  would  bewilder  the 
traveller  in  his  joiu-ney  ;  it  would  strike  the 
creation  with  amazement  ;  and  perhaps  be 
pernicious  to  the  organs  of  sight.  There- 
fore the  gloom  rushes  not  upon  us  instan- 
taneously, but  increases  by  slow  degrees; 
and  sending  twilight  before  as  its  harbinger, 
decently  advertises  us  of  its  approach.  By 
this  means  we  are  neither  alarmed  nor  in- 
commoded by  the  change  ;  but  are  able  to 
take  all  suitable  and  timely  measures  for  its 
reception.  Thus  graciously  has  Provi- 
dence regulated,  not  only  the  grand  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  seasons,  but  also  the  common 
interchanges  of  light  and  darkness,  with  an 
apparent  reference  to  our  comfort. 

Now,  the  fierce  inhabitants  of  the  forest 
forsake  their  dens.  A  thousand  grim  forms, 
a  thousand  growling  monsters  pace  the  de- 
sert. Death  is  in  their  jaws,  while,  stung 
with  hunger  and  athirst  for  blood,  they 
roam  {heir  nightly  rounds.  Unfortunate 
the  traveller  who  is  overtaken  by  the  night 
in  those  dismal  vn\ds  !  how  must  he  stand 
aghast  at  the  mingled  yell  of  ravenous 
throats,  and  lions  roaring  after  their  prey  ! 
Defend  him,  propitious  heaven  !  or  else  he 
must  see  his  endearing  spouse,  and  hail  his 
native  home  no  more ! — Now  the  prowling 


»  Considering  the  immense  quantity  of  coals,  and 
other  combustible  materials  which  are  daily  consum- 
ed, and  evaporate  into  the  air  ;  considering  the 
numberless  streams,  and  clouds  of  smoke,  which  al- 
most continually  overwhelm  populous  cities;  the 
noisome  exhalations  which  arise  from  thronged  in- 
firmaries and  loathsome  jails,  from  stagnating  lakes 
and  putrid  fens;  the  variety  of  offensive  and  un- 
wholesome effluvia,  which  proceed  from  other 
causes :  it  is  a  very  remarkable  instance  of  a  Provi- 
dence at  once  tenderly  kind  and  infinitely  powerful, 
that  mankind  is  not  suffocated  with  stench,  that  the 
air  is  not  choked  with  filth.  The  air  is  the  common 
sewer  into  which  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousanrt 
nuisances  are  incessantly  discharged;  yet  it  is  pre- 
served so  thoroughly  clear,  as  to  afford  the  most 
transparent  medium  for  vision;  so  delicately  undu- 
latory,  as  to  transmit,  with  all  imaginable  distinct- 
ness, every  diversity  of  sound  ;  so  perfectly  pure,  aS 
to  be  the  constant  refiner  of  the  fluids  in  every  ani- 
mal that  breathes. 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


70 


wolf,  like  a  murderous  rullian,  dogs  the 
shepherd's  footsteps,  and  besets  liis  bleat- 
ing eliaige.  The  fox,  like  a  crafty  felon, 
steals  to  the  thatched  cottage,  and  carries 
off  the  feathered  booty. 

Happy  for  the  world,  were  these  the  only 
destroyers  that  walk  in  darkness.  But, 
alas  !  there  are  sas'ages  in  human  sha])e, 
who,  muffled  in  shades,  infest  the  abodes  of 
civilized  life.  The  sons  of  violence  make 
choice  of  this  season*  to  perpetivite  the  most 
outrageous  acts  of  wrong  and  robbery. 
The  adulterer  waiteth  for  the  twilight ; 
and,  baser  than  the  villain  on  the  highway, 
betrays  the  honour  of  his  bosom  friend. 
Now  faction  forms  her  close  cabals,  and 
whispers  her  traiterous  insinuations.  Now 
rebellion  plans  her  accursed  plots,  and  pre- 
pares the  train  to  blow  a  nation  into  ruin. 
Now  crimes,  which  hide  their  odious  heads 
in  the  day,  haunt  the  seats  of  societ)-,  and 
stalk  through  the  gloom  with  audacious 
front.  Now  the  vermin  of  the  stews  crawl 
from  their  lurking- holes  to  wallow  in  sin, 
and  spread  contagion  through  the  night. 
Each  soothing  himself  with  the  fond  no- 
tion, that  all  is  safe,  that  no   eye  sees. 

Are  they  then  concealed?  Preposterous 
madmen  !  to  draw  the  curtain  between 
their  infamous  practices  and  a  little  set  of 
mortals,  but  lay  them  open  to  all  these 
chaste  and  wakeful  eyes  of  heaven  !f  as 
though  the  moon  and  stars  were  made  to 
light  men  to  their  revels,  and  not  to  God. 
Are  they  then  concealed  ?  No,  truly.  Was 
every  one  of  these  vigilant  luminaries  clos- 
ed, an  eye  keener  than  the  lightning's  flash, 
an  eye  brighter  than  ten  thousand  suns, 
beholds  their  every  motion.  Their  thick- 
es?t  shades  are  beaming  day|  to  the  jealous 
Inspector  and  supreme  Judge  of  human 
actions.  Deluded  creatures  !  have  ye  not 
heard,  have  ye  not  read,  "  That  clouds  and 
darkness  are  his  majestic  residence?"  (Psa. 
xcvii.  2.  In  that  very  gloom  to  which  you 
fly  for  covert,  he  erects  his  throne.  What 
you  reckon  your  screen  is  the  bar  of  his 
tribunal.  Oh,  remember  this  !  stand  in 
awe  and  sin  not.  Remember  that  the 
great  and  terrible  God  is  about  your  path§ 


*  — — — — When  night 

Darkens  the  streets,  then  wander  forth  the  sons 

Of  Belial,  flown  with  insolence  and  wine. — Milt. 

t  Sed  luna  videt,  sed  sidera  teste.s 

intendent  occnlus. 
i.  This  is  finely,  and  very  forcibly  expressed  by  the 
Psalmist :  "  If  I  say,  peradventure  the  darkness  shall 
rover  me,  then  shall  my  night  be  turned  to  day  ;"  or 
as  it  may  be  rendered  somewhat  more  emphatically. 
Even  the  night  shall  be  broad  day-light  all  around 
me.    Psalm  cxxxix.  11. 

§  The  original  words  are  much  stronger  than  the 
translation;  .signifying.  Thou  siftcst  my  path ;  and 
art  familiarly  or  intimately  acquainted  with  .all  my 
ways.  The  former,  I  apprehend,  denoting  the  exact 
cognizance  which  the  Almighty  taketh,  the  latter  im- 
plying the  constant  inspection  which  he  exerciseth, 
over  all  the  circumstances  of  our  conduct.  Psalm 
cxxxix.  2. 


when  you  take  your  midnight  range ;  is 
about  your  bed,  when  you  indulge  tiie  loose 
desire  ;  and  spies  out  all  jour  ways,  be 
they  ever  so  secretly  conducted,  or  art- 
fully disguised. 

Some  minutes  ago,  a  passenger  crossed 
along  the  road.  His  horse's  foot  struck  the 
ground,  and  fetched  fire  from  a  flint.  My 
eye,  though  at  a  distance,  catched  the  view  ; 
and  saw  with  great  clearness  the  transient 
sparkles,  of  which,  had  I  been  ever  so  near, 
I  should  not  have  discerned  the  least 
glimpse  under  the  blaze  of  day.*  So,  whei> 
sickness  has  drawn  a  veil  over  the  gaiety  of 
out  hearts  ;  when  misfortunes  have  eclips- 
ed the  splendour  of  our  outward  circum- 
stances ;  how  many  important  convictions 
present  themselves  with  the  brightest  evi- 
dence !  Under  the  sunshine  of  prosperity 
they  lay  undiscovered  ;  but,  when  some  in- 
tervening cloud  has  darkened  the  scene,  they 
emerge  from  their  obscurity,  and  even  glit- 
ter u])on  our  minds.  Then  the  world,  that: 
delusive  cheat,  confesses  her  emptiness  ;  but 
Jesus,  the  bri:;ht  and  moniing  star,  beams 
forth  with  inimitable  lustre.  Then  vice 
loses  all  her  fallacious  allurements  ;  that 
painted  strum])ct  is  horrible  as  the  hags  of 
hell;  but  virtue,  despised  virtue,  gains  love- 
liness from  a  louring  providence,  aJid  treads 
the  shades  with  more  than  mortal  charms. 
May  this  reconcile  me,  and  all  the  sons  of 
sorrow  to  our  a])pointed  share  of  suffering? 
If  tribulation  tend  to  dissipate  the  inward 
darkness,  and  pour  heavenly  day  upon  our 
minds  ;  welcome  distress,  welcome  disap- 
])ointment,  welcome  whatever  our  froward 
flesh,  or  peevi.sh  passions,  would  miscall  ca- 
lamities. These  light  afflictions  which  are 
but  for  a  moment,  shall  sit  easy  upon  our  spi- 
rits ;  since  they  befriend  our  knowledge, 
promote  our  faith,  and  so  work  out  for  us 
a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of 
glory,  f 


*  I  beg  leave  to  inform  tlie  young  gentleman, 
whose  name  dignifies  my  Dedication,  that  this  was  a 
remark  of  his  honoured  father,  when  we  rode  toge- 
ther, and  conversed  in  a  dusky  evening.  I  mention 
this  circumstance,  partly  to  secure  tlie  paragraph  from 
contem])!  ;  partly  to  give  him  and  the  world  an  idc.i 
of  that  eminently  serious  taste  which  distinguished 
my  deceased  friend.  ']  he  less  obvious  the  reflection, 
the  more  clearly  it  discovers  a  turn  of  mind  remarka- 
bly spiritual,  which  would  suffer  nothing  to  escape, 
without  yielding  some  religious  improvement.  The 
meaner  the  incident,  the  more  admirable  wa.s  that 
fertility  of  imagination,  which  could  deduce  the  su- 
blimest  truthstrom  the  most  trivial  occurrences. 

t  2  Cor.  iv.  17.  The  great  Stephens,  that  oracle  of 
Grecian  learning,  translates  our  apostle's  phrase — 
xa^'  i/m^SoXnv,  Quo  nihil  magisdici  aut  fingi  po- 
test. But  how  docs  the  sense  rise!  how  is  the  idea 
enlarged,  under  two  such  forcible  expressions  !  The 
whole  verse  is  a  master-piece  of  the  beautiful  antithe- 
sis, the  lively  description,  and  the  nervous  diction. 
It  is  one  of  those  exquisite  passages  in  the  inspirei? 
writings,  which,  like  some  rich  aromatic  plants,  can- 
not be  transferred  from  their  own  generous  and  na- 
tive soil,  without  being  impaired  in  their  vivacity, 
and  losing  much  of  their  delicacy.  Perhaps,  the  fol- 
lov.'ing  version  may  be  somewhat  less  injurious  to  the 


80 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


How  has  this  darkness  snatched  every 
spleiided  and  graceful  object  from  my  sight; 
It  ha?  dashed  the  sponge  over  the  pictures 
of  spring,  and  destroyed  all  the  delicate  dis- 
tinctions of  things.  WTiere  ai-e  now  the 
fine  tinges,  which  so  lately  charmed  me  from 
the  glowing  parterre  ?  The  blush  is  struck 
out  from  the  cheeks  of  the  rose ;  and  the 
snowy  hue  is  dropt  from  the  lily.  I  cast 
my  eyes  toward  a  magnificent  seat :  but  the 
aspiring  columns,  and  fair  expanded  front, 
are  mingled  in  rude  confusion.  Without 
the  sun,  all  the  elegance  of  the  blooming 
world,  is  a  mere  blank ;  all  the  symmetry  of 
arcliitecture  is  a  shapeless  heap. 

Js  not  this  an  expressive  emblem  of  the 
loveliness  which  the  Sim  of  Righteousness 
transfuses  into  all  that  is  amiable  !  Was  it 
not  for  Jesus  and  his  merits,  I  should  sigh 
wth  anguish  of  spirit,  even  while  I  rove 
through  ranks  of  the  most  beautiful  flowers  or 
breathe  amidst  a  wilderness  of  sweets.  Was 
it  not  for  Jesus  and  his  merits,  Ishouldroam 
like  some  disconsolate  spectre,  even  through 
the  smiles  of  creation,  and  the  caresses  of 
fortune.  My  conversation  in  this  world, 
though  dressed  in  the  most  engaging  forms 
of  external  pleasure,  would  be  like  the  pas- 
sage  of  a  condemned  malefactor,  through 
enamelled  meadows  and  bowers  of  bliss,  to 
be  broke  upon  the  wheel,  or  to  expire  on 
the  rack.  But  a  daUy  reflection  on  the 
Lamb's  atoning  blood ;  a  comfortable  trust 
that  my  soul  is  reconciled  through  this  di- 
vine expiation  ;  this  is  the  ray,  the  golden 
ray,  which  irradiates  the  face  of  the  universe. 
This  is  the  oil  of  beauty,  which  makes  all 
things  wear  a  cheerful  aspect ;  and  the  oil  of 
gladness,  which  disposes  the  spectator  to 
behoH  them  with  delight.*  This,  this  is 
the  sacred  charm,  which  teacheth  natiu-e  in 
all  her  prospects,  in  all  her  productions,  so 
exquisitely  to  please. 

"  Man  goeth  forth  to  his  work,  and  to 
his  labour,  tUl  the  evening ;"  but  then  his 
strength  fails,  his  spirits  flag,  and  he  stands 
in  need,  not  only  of  some  respite  from  toU, 
but  of  some  kindly  and  sovereign  refresh- 


sacred  original  than  the  common  translation  :— Our 
very  light  affliction,  which  is  but  just  for  the  present 
moment,  worketh  out  a  far  more  exceeding,  and  in- 
comparably great,  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

*  1  hus  applied,  that  fine  piece  of  flattery,  addressed 
to  the  Heathen  emperor,  is  strictly  and  literally  true. 

Vultus  ubi  tuus 

Affalsit  populo,  gratior  et  dies, 
Et  soles  melius  nitent. — Horat. 

Which  I  would  cast  in  a  Christian  mould,  »nd  thus 
translate : 

When  faith  presents  the  Saviour's  death, 

And  whispers"  This  is  thine," 
Sweetly  my  rising  hours  advance, 

.\vA  peacefully  decline. 

y  hile  such  my  views,  the  radiant  sun 

Sheds  a  more  sprightly  ray : 
Each  object  smiles;  all  nature  charms ; 

I  sing  my  cares  away. 


ments.  What  an  admirable  provision  for 
this  purpose  is  sleep  !  Sleep  introduces  a 
most  welcome  vacation,  both  for  the  soid 
and  l)ody.  The  exercises  of  the  brain,  and 
the  labours  of  the  hands,  are  at  once  discon- 
tinued. So  that  the  weary  limbs  repair 
their  exhausted  vigour  ;  whUe  the  pensive 
thoughts  drop  their  load  of  sorrows,  and 
the  busy  ones  rest  from  the  fatigue  of  ap- 
plication. Most  re\'iving  cordial !  equally 
beneficial  to  our  animal  and  intellectual' 
powers.  It  supplies  the  lleslily  machine, 
and  keeps  all  its  nice  movements  in  a  pro- 
per posture  for  easy  play.  It  animates  the 
thinking  faculties  with  fresh  alacrity,  and' 
rekindles  their  ardour  for  the  studies  of  the 
dawn.  Without  these  enlivening  recruits, 
how  soon  woidd  the  most  robust  constitu- 
tion be  wasted  into  a  walking  skeleton  ;  and 
the  most  learned  sage  degenerate  into  a 
hoary  idiot !  Some  time  ago  I  beheld  with 
SLU'prise  poor  Florio.  His  air  was  wild  ; 
his  countenance  meagre,  his  thoughts  rov- 
ing, and  speech  disconcerted.  Inquiring 
the  cause  of  this  strange  alteration,  I  was 
informed,  that  for  several  nights  he  had  not 
closed  his  eyes  in  sleep.  For  want  of  which 
noble  restorative,  that  sprightly  youth  (who 
was  once  the  life  of  the  discoiu^e,  and  the 
darling  of  the  company)  is  become  a  spec- 
tacle of  misery  and  horror.  How  many  of 
my  fellow-creatures  are  at  this  very  instant 
confined  to  the  bed  of  languisliing,  and 
complaining  with  that  illustrious  sufferer  of 
old,  wearisome  nights  are  appointed  to  me ! 
(Job  vii.  3.)  Instead  of  indulging  soft  re- 
pose, they  are  counting  the  tedious  hours, 
telling  every  striking  clock,  or  measuring 
the  very  moments  by  their  throbbing  pulse. 
How  many,  harassed  with  pain,  most  pas- 
sionately long  to  make  some  little  truce 
with  their  agonies  in  peaceful  slumbers  ! 
How  many,  sick  with  disquietude,  and  rest- 
less even  on  their  downy  pillows,  woidd 
purchase  this  transient  oblivion  of  their 
woes  almost  at  any  rate  !  That  which 
wealth  cannot  procure,  which  midtitudes 
sigh  for  in  vain,  thy  God  has  bestowed  on 
thee  times  out  of  nimiber.  The  welcome 
visitant,  punctual  at  the  needed  hour,  has 
entered  thy  chamber,  and  poured  his  pop- 
pies round  thy  couch ;  has  gently  closed  thine 
eye-hds,  and  shed  his  slumberous  dews  over 
all  thy  senses. 

Since  sleep  is  so  absolutely  necessary,  so 
inestimably  valuable,  observe  vvhat  a  fine 
apparatus  almighty  goodness  has  made  to 
accommodate  us  with  the  balmy  blessing  ! 
With  how  kind  a  precaution,  he  removes 
whatever  might  obstruct  its  access,  or  im- 
pede its  influence  !  He  draws  around  us 
the  curtain  of  darkness  ;  which  inclines  us 
to  a  drowsy  iiidolence,  and  conceals  every 
object  that  miglit  too  strongly  agitate  the 
sciL^ie.      He  conveys  peace  into  our  apart- 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


81 


itleiits,  aiiJ  imposes  sileiioe  on  the  whole 
creation.  Ijvery  animal  is  bid  to  tread 
softly,  or  rather  to  cease  Irom  its  motion, 
when  man  is  retiring  to  his  repose.  May 
we  not  discern,  in  this  gracious  disposition 
of  things,  the  tender  cares  of  a  nursing-mo- 
ther, who  hushes  every  noise,  and  secludes 
eveiy  disturbance,  when  she  has  laid  the 
child  of  her  love  to  rest.  So,  by  such 
soothing  circumstances,  and  gently  working 
opiates,  he  giveth  to  his  beloved  sleep. 
(Psalm  cxxvii.  2.) 

Another  signal  instance  of  a  providence 
ntent  upon  our  welfare  is,  that  we  are  pre- 
served safe  in  the  hours  of  sluml)er.  How 
are  we  then  lost  to  all  apprehension  of 
danger ;  even  though  tlie  murderer  be  at 
our  bed  side,  or  his  naked  sword  at  our 
breast  !  Destitute  of  all  concern  for  our- 
selves, we  are  unable  to  think  of,  much 
more  to  provide  for,  our  own  secuiity.  At 
these  moments,  therefore,  we  lie  ojien  to  in- 
numerable perils  :  perils  from  the  resistless 
rage  of  llames  ;  perils  from  the  iii>idious 
artifices  of  thieves,  or  the  outrageous  vio- 
lence of  robbers  ;  perils  from  the  irregular 
workings*  of  our  own  thoughts,  and  es^)e- 
cially  from  the  incursions  of  our  spiritual 
enemy. 

What  dreadful  mischief  might  that  rest- 
less, that  implacable  adversary  of  mankind 
work,  was  there  not  an  invisible  hand  to 
control  his  rage,  and  protect  poor  mortals  ! 
What  scenes  of  horror  might  he  represent 
to  our  imaginations,  and  "  scare  lis  with 
dreams,  or  terrify  us  with  visions  !"f     But 


•  I  think  it  is  referable  only  to  a  superintending 
and  watchful  providence,  that  we  are  not  hurried  in- 
to the  most  pernicious  actions,  when  our  imagination 
is  heated,  and  our  reason  stupitied  by  dreams.  We 
have  sometimes  heard  of  unfortunate  persons,  who, 
walking  in  their  sleep,  have  thrown  themselves  head- 
long from  a  window,  and  been  dashed  to  death  on  the 
pebbles.  And  whence  is  it  that  such  disastrous  acci- 
dents are  only  related  as  pieces  of  news,  notexpei- 
ienced  by  ourselves  or  our  families  ?  Were  our  minds 
more  sober  in  their  operations,  or  more  circumspect 
in  their  regards  ?  No  verily,  nothing  could  be  more 
wild  than  their  excursions,  and  none  could  be  more 
inattentive  to  their  own  welfare.  Therefore,  if  we 
have  laid  us  down,  and  slept  in  peace,  it  was  because 
the  Lord  vouchsafed  us  the  sweet  refreshment ;  it  we 
rose  again  in  safety,  it  was  because  the  Lord  sustain- 
e<l  us  with  his  unremitted  protection. 

Will  the  candid  reader  excuse  me,  if  I  add  a  short 
itory,  or  rather  matter  of  fact,  suitable  to  the  pre- 
ceding remark  ?  Two  persons  who  had  been  hunting 
together  in  the  day,  slept  together  the  following 
night.  One  of  them  was  renewing  the  pursuit  in  his 
dream;  and,  having  run  the  whole  circle  of  the 
chase,  came  at  last  to  tlie  fall  of  the  stag.  Upon 
this,  he  cries  out  with  a  determined  ardour,  I'll  kill 
him  ;  I'll  kill  him  ;  and  iumiediately  feels  for  the 
knife,  which  he  carried  in  his  pocket.  His  companion 
happening  to  be  awake,  and  observing  what  passed, 
leaped  from  the  bed  :  being  secure  from  danger,  and 
the  moon  shining  into  the  room,  he  stood  to  view 
the  event ;  when,  to  his  inexpressible  surprise,  the 
infatuated  siwirlsmr-n  gave  several  deadly  stabs,  in 
tjie  very  place,  »  here,  a  moment  before,  the  throat  and 
the  life  of  his  friend  lay.  This  1  mention  as  a  proof 
that  nothing  hinders  us,  even  from  being  assassins  of 
others,  or  murderers  of  ourselves,  amidst  the  mad 
laJlies  of  sleep — but  the  preventing  care  of  oui  hea- 
venly Father. 

t  vVli.-<t  a  complete  master  that  malignant  spirit 
U  In   Kxhibitina  visionary  repreienttttions,   apiteari 


the  Keeper  of  Israel,  win')  never  sluiubt;]* 
nor  sleeps,  interposes  in  our  behalf,  at  once 
to  cherish  us  under  his  wings,  and  to  de- 
fend us  with  a  shield.  It  is  said  of  Solo- 
mon, "  that  threescore  valiant  men  were 
about  his  bed,  all  expert  in  war  ;  every  one 
with  his  sword  upon  his  thigh,  because  of  fear 
in  the  night ;"  (  Song  iii.  7,  8. )  but  one  greater 
than  Solomon,  one  mightier  than  myriads 
of  armed  hosts,  even  the  great  Jehovah,  in 
whom  is  everlasting  strength,  vouchsafes  to 
encamp  about  our  houses,  watch  over  our 
sleeping  minutes,  and  to  stop  all  the  aven- 
ues of  ill.  O  !  the  unwearied  and  condes- 
cending goodness  of  our  Creator  !  who  lulls 
us  to  our  rest  by  bringing  on  the  silent 
shades  ;  and  plants  his  ov\ti  ever-watchful 
eye  as  our  sentinel,  while  we  enjoy  the 
needful  repose. 

Reason  now  resigns  her  sedate  office, 
and  fancy,  extravagant  fancy,  leads  the 
mind  through  a  maze  of  vanity.  The  head 
is  crowned  with  false  images,  and  tantaliz- 
ed with  the  most  ridiculous  misapprehen- 
sions  of  things.  Some  are  expatiating 
amidst  fairy  fields  and  gathering  garlands 
of  visionary  bliss,  while  their  bodies  are 
stretched  on  a  wisp  of  straw,  and  shelter- 
ed by  the  cobwebs  of  a  barn.  Others, 
quite  insensible  of  their  rooms  of  state,  are 
mourning  in  a  doleful  dungeon,  or  strug- 
gling with  the  raging  billows.  Perhaps, 
with  hasty  steps,  they  climb  the  craggy  cliff, 
and  with  real  anxiety  fly  from  the  imagi- 
nary danger  ;  or  else,  benumbed  with  sud- 
den fear,  and  finding  themselves  unable  to 
escape,  they  give  up  at  once  their  hopes 
and  their  efforts  ;  and,  though  reclined  on 
a  couch  of  ivory,  are  sinking,  all  helpless 
and  distressed,  in  the  furious  whirlpool. 
So  unaccountable  are  the  vagaries  of  the 
brain,  while  sleep  maintains  its  dominion 
over  the  limbs. 

But  is  this  the  only  season  when  absurd 
and  incoherent  irregularities  play  their  ma- 
gic on  our  minds  ?  Are  there  not  those 
who  dream  even  in  their  waking  moments  ? 
— Some  pride  themselves  in  a  notion  of 
superior  excellency,  because  the  royal  f£u 
vour  has  annexed  a  few  splendid  titles  to 
their  names,  or  because  the  dying  silk-worm 
has  bequeathed  her  finest  threads  to  cover 
their  nakedness.  Others  congratulate 
their  own  signal  happiness,  because  loads 
of  golden  lumber  are  amassed  together  in 
their  coffers ;  or  promise  themselves  a 
most  superlative  felicity  indeed,  when  .«ome 
thousands  more  are  added  to   the   useless 

heap Nor  are  there  wanting   others,  who 

gape  after  substantial  satisfaction  from  airy 


from  his  conduct  towards  Christ  on  the  high  moutw 
tain  ;  and  that  he  is  too  ready,  if  not  restrained  by  aQ 
over-ruling  power,  to  employ  his  dexterity  in  afttlct- 
ing  mankind,  is  evident  from  his  treutnient  of  Jolv 
.See  Lukeiv.  i.     Jyb  vii.  U. 


M2 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


applause :  and  flatter  themselves  with  1 1 
know  not  what  immortality,  in  the  mo- 
mentary buzz  of  renown.  Are  any  of 
these  a  whit  more  reasonable  in  their  opin- 
ions, thar  the  poor  ragged  wretch  in  his 
reveries,  who  while  snoring  under  a 
hedge,  exults  in  the  possession  of  his 
stately  palace  and  sumptuous  furniture  ? 
If  persons  who  are  very  vassals  to  their 
own  domineering  passions,  and  led  captive 
by  numberless  temptations  ;  if  these  per- 
sons pique  themselves  with  a  conceit  of 
their  liberty,  and  fancy  themselves  the  ge- 
nerous and  gallant  spirits  of  the  age  ;  where 
is  the  difference  between  theirs  and  the 
madman's  frenzy,  who  though  chained  to 
the  floor,  is  throned  in  thought,  and  wield- 
ing an  imaginary  sceptre  ?  In  a  word,  as 
many  as  borrow  their  dignity  from  a  plume 
of  feathers,  or  the  gaudy  trappings  of  for- 
tune ;  as  many  as  send  their  souls  to  seek 
for  bliss  in  the  blandishments  of  sense,  or 
in  any  thing  short  of  the  divine  favour,  and 
a  well  grounded  hope  of  the  incorruj)tible 
inheritance;'  what  are  they,  but  dreamers 
with  their  eyes  open — delirious,  though  in 
health  ? 

Would  you  see  their  picture  drawn  to 
the  very  life,  and  the  success  of  their 
schemes  calculated  wdth  the  utmost  exact- 
ness ;  cast  your  eye  upon  that  fine  repre- 
sentation exhibited  by  the  prophet :  "  It 
shall  be  even  as  when  a  hungry  man  dream- 
eth,  and  behold  he  eateth  ;  but  he  awaketh, 
and  his  soul  is  empty  ;  or,  as  when  a 
thirsty  man  dreameth,  and  behold  he  drink- 
eth ;  but  he  awaketh,  and  behold  he  is 
faint,  and  his  soul  hath  appetite  ;  ( Isa. 
xxix.  8.  Such  is  the  race,  and  such  the 
prize,  of  all  those  candidates  for  honour 
and  joy,  who  run  wide  from  the  mark  of 
the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus. 
They  live  in  vanity,  and  die  in  woe. 
Awaken  us,  merciful  Lord,  from  these 
noon-tide  trances  !  Awaken  us,  while  con- 
viction may  turn  to  our  advantage,  and  not 
serve  only  to  increase  our  torment.  O  ! 
let  our  "  eyes  be  enlightened  to  discern  the 
things  that  are  excellent,"  and  no  longer  be 
imposed  upon  by  fantastic  appearances, 
which,  however  pompous  they  may  seem, 
will  prove  more  empty  than  the  visions  of 
the  night,  more  transient  than  the  dream 
that  is  forgotten. 

Having  mentioned  sleep  and  dreams,  let 
me  once  again  consider  those  remarkable  in- 
cidents of  our  frame ;  so  very  remarkable, 
that  I  may  venture  to  call  them  a  kind  of 
experimental  mystery,  and  little  less  than  a 
standing  miracle.  Behold  the  most  vigo- 
rous constitution  when  stretched  on  the  bed 
of  case,  and  totally  resigned  to  the  slumbers 


•  These  give  a  sacred  and  home  felt  dellglit, 
A  sober  certainty  of  waking  hlHs.— Milt.  Comus. 


of  the  night :  its  activity  is  oppressed  with 
fetters  of  indolence ;  its  strength  is  con- 
signed over  to  a  temporary  annihilation  ;  the 
nerves  are  like  a  bow  unstrung,  and  the 
whole  animal  system  is  like  a  motionless 
log.  Behold  a  person  of  the  most  delicate 
sensations,  and  amiable  dispositions  :  his 
eyes,  though  thrown  wide  open,  admit  not 
the  visual  ray,  at  least  distinguish  not  ob- 
jects :  his  ears,  with  the  organs  unimpaired, 
and  articulate  accents  beating  upon  the 
drum,  perceive  not  the  sound,  at  least  aj>- 
prehend  not  the  meaning.  The  senses, 
and  their  exquisitely  fine  feelings,  are  over- 
whelmed with  an  unaccountable  stupefac- 
tion. You  call  him  a  social  creature  :  but 
where  are  his  social  affections  ?  He  knows 
not  the  father  that  begat  him,  and  takes  no 
notice  of  the  friend  that  is  as  his  own  soul. 
The  wife  of  his  bosom  may  expire  by  his 
side,  and  he  lie  more  unconcerned  than  a 
barbarian.  The  children  of  his  body  may 
be  tortured  with  the  severest  pangs,  and  he, 
even  in  the  same  chamber,  remain  mitouch- 
ed  with  the  least  commiseration.  Behold 
the  most  ingenious  scholar,  whose  judgment 
is  piercing,  and  able  to  trace  the  most  in- 
tricate difficulties  of  science  ;  his  taste  re- 
fined, and  quick  to  relish  all  the  beauties  of 
sentiment  and  composition  :  yet,  at  this 
juncture,  the  thinking  facidties  are  unhing- 
ed, and  the  intellectual  economy  quite  dis- 
concerted. Instead  of  close  connected  rea- 
sonings, nothing  but  a  disjointed  huddle  of 
absurd  ideas  ;  instead  of  well-digested  prin- 
ciples, nothing  but  a  disorderly  jumble  of 
crude  conceptions  :  the  most  palpable  de- 
lusions impose  upon  his  imagination.  The 
whole  night  passes,  and  he  frequently  mis- 
takes it  for  a  single  minute  ;  is  not  sensible 
of  the  transition,  hardly  sensible  of  any  du- 
ration. 

Yet,  no  sooner  does  the  morning  draw 
back  bis  curtains,  and  day-light  fill  the 
room,  but  he  awakes,  and  finds  himself 
possessed  of  all  the  valuable  endowments, 
which,  for  several  hours  were  suspended  or 
lost.  His  sinews  are  braced,  and  fit  for 
action;  his  senses  are  alert  and  keen.  The 
romantic  visionary  brightens  into  the  mas- 
ter of  reason.  The  frozen  or  benumbed 
affections  melt  with  tenderness,  and  glow 
with  benevolence  ;  and,  what  is  beyond  mea- 
sure sui-prising,  the  intoxicated  mind  works 
itself  sober,  not  by  slow  degrees,  but  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  recovers  from  its  per- 
turbation. Why  does  not  the  stupor  which 
deadens  all  the  nice  operations  of  the  ani- 
mal powers  hold  fast  its  possession  ?  When 
the  thoughts  are  once  disadjusted,  why  are 
they  not  always  in  confusion  ?  How  is  it 
that  they  are  rallied  in  a  moment ;  and, 
from  the  wildest  irregularity,  reduced  to  the 
most  orderly  ai'ray  ?  From  an  inactivity  re- 
sembling death,  how  is  the  body  so  sud- 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


83 


denly  restored  to  vigour  and  agility  ?  From 
extravagancies  bordering  upon  madness, 
how  is  tiie  understanding  instantaneously 
re-established  in  sedateness  and  harmony  ? 
Surely,  "  this  is  the  Lord's  doing,  and  it 
should  be  marvellous  in  our  eyes  ;"  should 
awaken  our  gratitude,  and  inspirit  our  praise. 

This  is  the  time  in  which  ghosts  are  sup- 
posed to  make  their  appearance.  Now  the 
timorous  imagination  teems  with  phantoms, 
and  creates  immberless  terrors  to  itself. 
Now  dreary  forms,  in  sullen  state,  stalk 
along  the  gloom  ;  or,  swifter  than  lightning, 
glide  across  the  shades.  Now  voices  more 
than  mortal*  are  heard  from  the  echoing 
vaults,  and  groans  issue  from  the  hollow 
tombs.  Now  melancholy  spectres  visit  the 
ruins  of  ancient  monasteries,  and  frequent 
the  solitary  dwellings  of  the  dead.  They 
pass  and  repass,  in  unsubstantial  images, 
along  the  forsaken  galleries  ;  or  take  their 
determined  stand  over  some  lamented  grave. 
How  often  has  the  school-boy  fetched  a 
long  circuit,  and  trudged  many  a  needless 
step,  in  order  to  avoid  the  haunted  church- 
yard !  Or  if  necessity,  sad  necessity,  has 
obliged  him  to  cross  the  spot,  where  human 
gkuUs  are  lodged  below,  and  the  baleful 
yews  shed  supernumerary  hoiTors  above : 
a  thousand  hideous  stories  rush  into  his 
memory  ;  fear  adds  wings  to  his  feet ;  he 
Bcarce  touches  the  ground  ;  dares  not  once 
look  behind  him  ;  and  blesses  his  good  for- 
tune, if  no  frightful  sound  purred  at  his 
heels,  if  no  ghastly  shape  bolted  upon  his 
sight. 

It  is  strange  to  observe  the  excessive 
timidity  which  possesses  many  people's 
minds  on  this  fancifid  occasion,  while  they 
are  void  of  all  concern  on  others  of  the 
most  tremendous  import.  Those  who  are 
startled,  in  any  dark  and  lonely  walk,  at  the 
very  apprehenson  of  a  single  spectre,  are 
nevertheless  unimpressed  at  the  sure  pi"o- 
spect  of  entering  into  a  whole  world  of 
disembodied  beings  ;  nay,  are  without  any 
emotions  of  awe,  though  they  know  them- 
selves to  be  hastening  into  the  presence  of 
the  great,  infinite,  and  eternal  Spirit. 
Should  some  pale  messenger  from  the  re- 
gions of  the  dead  draw  back  our  curtains  at 
the  hour  of  midnight,  and,  appointing  some 
particular  place,  say,  as  the  horrid  appari- 
tion to  Brutus,  /'//  meet  tlice  there  .'f ,  I 
believe  the  boldest  heart  would  feel  some- 
thing like  a  panic ;  would  seriously  think 
upon    the    adventure,    and  be   in   pain  for 


the  event.  But  when  a  voice  from  hea- 
ven cries,  in  the  awakening  language  of 
the  prophet.  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God, 
O  Israel;  (Amos  iv.  12.)  how  little  is 
the  warning  regarded  !  how  soon  is  it  for- 
got !  Preposterous  stupidity  !  to  be  utterly 
unconcerned,  where  it  is  the  truest  wisdom 
to  take  the  alarm  ;  and  to  be  all  trepidation, 
where  there  is  nothing  really  terrible.  Do 
thou,  my  soid,  remember  thy  Saviour's  ad- 
monition ;  "  I  will  forewarn  you  whom  you 
shall  fear :  Fear  not  these  imaginary  hor- 
rors of  the  night ;  but  fear  that  awful  being, 
whose  revelation  of  himself,  though  with 
expressions  of  peculiar  mercy,  made  Moses, 
his  favourite  servant,  tremble  exceedingly  ; 
whose  manifestation,  when  he  appears  with 
purposes  of  inexorable  vengeance,  will  make 
mighty  conquerors,  who  were  familiar  with 
dangers  and  estranged  to  dismay,  call  upon 
the  mountains  to  fall  on  them,  and  the  rocks 
to  cover  them  !  the  menace  of  whose  ma- 
jestic eye,  when  he  comes  attended  with 
thousand  thousands  of  his  immortal  hosts, 
will  make  the  very  heavens  cleave  asunder, 
and  the  earth  flee  away.  O  !  dread  his 
displeasure  ;  secure  his  favour ;  and  then 
thou  mayest  commit  all  thy  other  anxieties 
to  the  wind ;  thou  mayest  laugh  at  every 
other  fear." 

This  brings  to  my  mind  a  memorable 
and  amazing  occurrence,  recorded  in  the 
book  of  Job  ;  (Job  iv.  12,  14,  &c.)  which 
is,  I  think,  no  inconsiderable  proof  of  the 
real  existence  of  apparitions*  on  some  very 
extraordinary  emergencies,  while  it  discoun- 
tenances those  legions  of  idle  tales,  which 
superstiiion  has  raised  and  credulity  receiv- 
ed ;  since  it  teaches  us,  that  if  at  asy  time 
those  visitants  from  the  unknown  world 
render  themselves  perceivable  by  mortals, 
it  is  not  upon  any  errand  of  frivolous  con- 
sequence, but  to  convey  intelligence  of  the 
j  utmost  moment,  or  to  work  impressions  of 
the  highest  advantage. 


•  Vox  qiioque  per  !ucos  vulgo  ex  audita  silentes 

Ingens,  et  simulacra  monis  pallentia  miris. 
Visa  s\ib  obscurum  noctis. —  Vir/^. 

t  The  story  of  Brutus  and  his  evil  genius,  is  well 
known.  Nor  must  it  be  deemed,  that  the  precise 
words  of  the  spectre  to  the  hero  were,  I'll  meet  thee 
at  Phillippi.  But  as  this  would  not  answer  my  pur- 
pose, I  was  obliged  to  make  an  alteration  in  the  cir- 
cumstance of  place. 


*  Is  a  proof  of  the  rent  existence  of  apparitions,  if 
the  sense  in  which  1  have  always  understood  this  pas- 
sage be  true. — Elipliaz,  I  apprehend,  was  neither  in 
a  trance  nor  in  a  dream,  but  perfectly  awake. — 
Though  he  speaiis  of  sleep,  he  speaks  of  it  as  fallen 
not  upon  himself,  but  upon  other  men  He  does  not 
mention  dreams,  though  som»in  would  have  suited 
the  verse  (if  the  book  be  in  metre)  altogether  as  well 
as  visions.  It  could  not  surely  be  a  wind,  as  some 
translate  the  word  ;  because  the  circumstance  of 
standing  still  is  not  so  compatible  with  the  nature  of 
a  wind  ;  and  a  wind  would  have  passed  above  him, 
all  around  him,  as  well  as  before  him  :  not  to  add, 
how  low  a  remark  it  is,  and  how  unworthy  of  a  place 
in  so  august  a  description,  that  he  could  not  discern 
the  form  of  a  wind. — It  seems,  therefore,  to  have 
I)een  a  real  spirit;  either  angelical,  as  were  those 
which  presented  themselves  to  Abraham  resting  at 
the  door  of  his  tent,  and  to  Lot  sitting  in  the  gate  of 
Sodom;  or  else  the  spirit  of  some  departed  saint,  as 
in  the  case  of  Samuel's  apparition,  or  the  famous  ap- 
pearance of  Moses  and  Elijah  on  the  mount  of  trans- 
figuration ;  a  spirit  assuming  some  vehicle,  in  order 
to  become  visible  to  the  human  eye ;  which,  accord- 
ingly, Eliphaz  saw,  exhibiting  itself  as  an  object  of 
sight,  hut  saw  so  obscurely  and  indistinctly,  that  he 
was  not  able  to  describe  its  aspect,  or  to  diicern 
whom  it  resembled. 


84 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


It  was  in  the  dead  of  night :  all  nature 
lay  shrouded  in  darkness :   Every  creature 
was  buried  in  sleep  :   The  most  profound 
silence  reigned  through  the  universe.      In 
these  solemn  moments,  Eliphaz  alone,  all 
wakeful  and  solitary,  was  musing  upon  sub- 
lime and  heavenly  subjects  ;   when,  lo  !   an 
awful  being  from  the  invisible  realms  burst 
into  his  apartment.*     A  spirit  passed  be- 
fore his  face.     Astonishment  seized  the  be- 
holder ;  his  bones  shivered  within  him ;  his 
flesh  trembled  all  over  him ;  and  the  hair  of 
his  head  stood  erect  with  horror.       Sudden 
and  unexpected  was   the  appearance  of  the 
phantom  ;  not  such  its  departure.     It  stood 
still,  to  present  itself  more  fully  to  his  view: 
It  made  a    solemn    pause,    to  prepare  his 
mind  for  some  momentous  message.     After 
which  a  voice  was  heard  ;  a  voice,  for  the 
importance  of  its  meaning,  worthy  to  be  had 
in  everlasting  remembrance  ;    for  the  so- 
lemnity of  its  delivery,  enough  to  alarm  a 
heart  of  stone.      It  spoke,  and  this  was  the 
purport  of  its  words  :  "  Shall  man,  frail  man, 
be  just  before  the  mighty  God  ?  Shall  even 
the  most  accomj)lished  of  mortals  be  pure 
in  the  sight  of  his  Maker  ?f     Behold,  and 
consider  it  attentively  :    He   put  no   such 
trust  in  his  most  exalted  servants  as  should 
bespeak  them  incapable  of  defect  !    and  his 
very  angels  he  charged  with  folly,  as  sinking, 
even  in  the  highest  perfection  of  their  holi- 
ness,   infinitely    beneath   his    transcendent 
glories  ;  as  falling,   even   in  all  the  fidelity 
of  their  obedience,   inexpressibly  short  of 
the  homage  due  to  his  adorable   majesty. 
If  angelic  natures  must  not  presume  to  jus- 
tify either  themselves  or  their  services  be- 
fore uncreated  purity,  how  much  more  ab- 
surd is  such  a   notion,    how    much   more 
impious   such   an    attempt,   in    them    that 
dwell  in  houses  of  clay,  whose  original  is 
from  the  dust,  and  whose  state  is  all  imper- 
fection." 


•  I  have  given  this  solemn  picture  a  modem  dress, 
rather  for  the  sake  of  variety  and  illustration,  than 
from  any  apprehension  of  irnproving  the  admirable 
original.  Such  an  attempt,  I  am  sensible,  would  be 
more  absurdly  va  n,  than  to  lacquer  gold,  or  to  paint 
the  diamond.  The  des  ription  in  Eliphaz's  own  lan- 
guage is  awful  and  affecting  to  the  last  degree — a 
night-piece,  dressed  in  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
deepest  horror.  I  question  whether  Shakespeare 
himself,  though  so  peculiarly  happy  for  his  great 
command  of  terrifying  images,  has  any  thing  supe- 
rior or  comparable  to  this.  The  judges  of  tine  com- 
position see  the  masterly  strokes;  and  I  believe  the 
most  ordinary  reader  feels  them  chilling  his  blood, 
and  awakening  emotions  of  dread  in  his  mind. 

t  There  seems  to  be  a  significant  and  beautiful 
gradation  in  the  Hebrew,  which  I  have  endeavoured 
to  preserve  by  a  sort  of  paraphrastic  version.  The 
reader  will  observe  anew  turn  given  to  the  sentiment, 
preferable,  I  think,  to  that  which  our  English  trans- 
lation exhibits.  Not,  "  Shall  man  be  more  just  than 
God?"  but,  "  Shall  man  be  just  before,  or  in  the 
sight  of  God  ?"  The  passage  thus  rendered,  speaks  a 
truth  mcomparably  more  weighty,  and  needful  to  be 
inculcated;  a  truth  exactly  parallel  to  that  humbling 
confession  of  the  projihet,  "  we  are  all  as  an  unclean 
thing;"  and  to  that  solemn  declaration  of  the  Psal- 
mist :  "  In  thy  sight  shall  no  man  living  be  justified." 


I  would  observe  from  hence,  the  ver/ 
singular  necessity  of  that  poverty  of  spirit 
which  entirely  renoimces  it  own  attain- 
ments, and  most  thankfully  submits  to  the 
righteousness  of  the  incarnate  God.  To 
inculcate  this  lesson,  the  Son  of  the  Bless- 
ed came  down  from  heaven,  and  pressed  no 
other  principle  with  so  repeated  an  impor- 
tunity on  his  hearers.  *  To  instil  the  same 
doctrine,  the  Holy  Ghost  touched  the  lips 
of  the  apostles  with  sacred  eloquence,  and 
made  it  an  eminent  part  of  their  commission 
"  to  demolish  every  high  imagination." 
That  no  expedient  might  be  wanting  to  give 
it  a  deep  and  lasting  efficacy  on  the  human 
mind,  a  phantom  arises  from  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  or  a  teacher  descends 
from  the  habitation  of  spirits.  AVhatever 
then  we  neglect,  let  us  not  neglect  to  culti- 
vate this  grace,  which  has  been  so  variously 
taught,  so  powerfully  enforced. 

Hark  !  a  doleful  voice.  With  sudden 
starts,  and  hideous  screams,  it  disturbs  the 
silence  of  the  peacefid  night.  It  is  the 
screech-owl,  sometimes  in  frantic,  some- 
times in  disconsolate  accents,  uttering  her 
woes.f  She  flies  the  vocal  grove,  and  shuns 
the  society  of  all  the  feathered  choir.  The 
blooming  gardens,  and  flowery  meads,  have 
no  charms  for  her.  Obscure  shades,  rag- 
ged ruins,  and  walls  overgrown  with  ivy, 
are  her  favourite  haunts.  Above,  the 
mouldering  precipice  nods,  and  threatens  a 
fall  ;  below,  the  toad  crawls,  or  the  poison- 
ous adder  hisses.  The  sprightly  morning 
which  awakens  other  animals  into  joy,  ad- 
ministers no  jileasure  to  this  gloomy  re- 
cluse. Even  tlio  smiling  face  of  day  is  her 
aversion,  and  all  its  lovely  scenes  create 
nothing  but  uneasiness. 

So,  just  so,  would  it  fare  with  the  ungod- 
ly, were  it  possible  to  suppose  their  admis- 
sion into;  the  chaste  and  hriffht  abodes  of 
endless  felicity.  They  would  iiiid  nothing 
but  disappointment  and  shame,  even  at  the 
fountain-head  of  hiii»i)iness  and  honour. 
For  how  could  the  tongue  habituated  to 
profaneness,  taste  any  delight  in  the  har- 
monious adorations  of  heaven  ?  How  could 
the  lips  cankered  with  slander,  relish  the 
raptures  of  everlasting  praise  ?  "Where  woidd 


»  It  is  well  wortliy  of  our  ob:',ervation,  says  an  ex- 
cellent commentator,  that  no  one  sentence  uttered  by 
our  Lord,  is  so  f  equentlv  re])eated  as  this;  "  Who- 
soever shall  exait  himself,  shall  be  abased;  and  he 
that  shall  humble  himseU'shall  be  exalted,"  which  oc- 
curs at  least  ten  times  in  the  Evangelists ;  but  is  ne- 
ver duly  accompli  bed  in  us.  till  we  disclaim  all  pre- 
tensions to  merit  and  righteousness  of  our  own,  and 
seek  them  only  in  the  atonement  and  obedience  of  Je- 
sus Christ. 

t  Solaque  ciilniinibus  serali  carmine  bubo 
Sepequeri,  longas<iue  in  fietum  ducere  voces. 
firfril. 

Thus  sung  thrvt  charming  genius,  that  prince  of  the 
ancient  poets,  that  most  consummate  master  of  ele- 
gance and  accuracy ;  all  whose  sentiments  are  nature; 
whose  every  desc-iiption  is  a  pifture,  whose  whole 
langu'-.ge  is  music. 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


P5 


be  the  Batisfaction  of  the  vain  beauty,  or  the 
supercilious  grandee  ?  Since,  in  the  tem- 
ple of  the  skies,  no  incense  of  flattery  would 
be  addressed  to  the  former,  nor  any  obse- 
quious homage  paid  to  the  latter.  The 
spotless  and  inconceivable  purity  of  the 
blessed  God,  would  flash  confusion  on  the 
lascivious  eye.  The  envious  mind  must  be 
on  a  rack  of  self-tormenting  passions,  to  ob- 
serve millions  of  happy  beings  shining  iii  all 
the  perfections  of  glory,  and  solacing  them- 
selves in  the  fulness  of  joy.  In  short,  the 
unsanctified  soul,  amidst  holy  and  triumph- 
ant spirits,  even  in  the  refined  regions  of 
bliss  and  immortality,  would  be  like  this 
melancholy  bird,  dislodged  from  her  dark- 
some retirement,  and  imprisoned  under  the 
beams  of  day.  * 

The  voice  of  this  creature  screaming  at 
our  windows,  or  of  tbe  raven  croaking  over 
our  houses,  is,  they  say,  a  token  of  approach- 
ing death.  There  are  persons  who  would 
regard  such  an  incident  with  no  small  de- 
gree of  solicitude.  Trivial  as  it  is,  it  would 
damp  their  spirits,  perhaps  break  thek  rest. 
One  cannot  liut  wonder,  that  people  should 
suflfer  themselves  to  be  affrighted  at  sui-h 
fantastical,  and  yet  be  quite  unaffected  with 
real,  presages  of  theii'  dissolution.  Real 
presages  of  this  awful  event  address  us  from 
every  quarter.  What  are  these  incumbent 
glooms  which  overwhelm  the  world,  but  a 
kind  of  pall  provided  for  nature,  and  an 
image  of  that  long  night,  which  will  quick- 
ly cover  the  inhabitants  of  the  whole  earth  ? 
What  an  aflinity  has  the  sleep, f  which  will 
very  soon  weigh  down  my  drowsy  eye-lids, 
wiih  that  state  of  entire  cessation,  in  which 
all  my  senses  must  be  laid  aside  !  The  si- 
lent chamber,  and  the  bed  of  slumber,  are 
a  very  signiricant  representation  of  the  land 
where  all  things  are  hushed,  all  things  are 
forgotten.  What  meant  that  deep  death- 
bell  note,  which  the  other  evening  sadden- 
ed the  air  ?  Laden  with  heavy  accents,  it 
struck  our  ears,  and  seemed  to  knock  at  the 
door  of  our  hearts.  Surely,  it  brought  a 
message  to  surviving  mortals,  and  thus  the 
tidings  ran  ;     "  Mortals,   the  destroyer  of 


•  I  would  beg  of  the  reader  to  observe,  with  what 
emphasis  and  propriety,  our  Lord  touches  this  impor- 
tant point,  in  his  reply  to  Nicodcmus.  "  Verily,  ver- 
ily, 1  say  unto  thee.  Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he 
cannot  enter  into  the  kingilom  of  heaven."  q.  d.  "  I 
wave  the  authority  of  the  supreme  Judge,  and  speak 
with  the  condescension  ofa  teacher  in  Isiael.  'I  hough 
I  might,  without  being  liable  to  the  least  control, 
pass  It  into  a  sovereign  decree,  That  unrenewed  moi- 
la's,  who  are  slaves  to  corrupt  appetites,  shall  not  en- 
ter the  habitations  of  the  just ;  I  rather  choose  to  re- 
prtsent  it  as  a  case  utterly  impossible  ;  and  charge 
I  l\L  calamity,  not  upon  divine  severity,  but  upon  hu- 
man folly.  Such  persons,  from  the  very  nature  of 
things,  preclude  themselves;  they  incapacitate  their 
own  minds;  and  contrarities  must  be  reconciled,  be- 
fore they,  in  their  unregenerate  condition,  can  be 
partakers  of  those  spiritual  and  sublime  delights." 
John  iii.  3. 

t  Ft  consangiiineiis  Icthi  sopor. —  Vhs- 


your  race  is  on  his  way.  The  last  enemy 
has  begun  the  pursuit,  and  is  gaining  ground 
ujjon  you  every  moment.  His  i)aths  are 
strewed  with  heaps  of  slain.  Even  now  his 
javelin  has  laid  one  of  your  neighbours  in 
the  dust ;  and  will  soon,  very  soon,  aim  the 
inevitable  blow  at  each  of  your  lives." 

We  need  not  go  down  to  the  charnel- 
house,  nor  carry  our  research  into  the  reposi- 
tories of  the  dead,  in  order  to  find  memo- 
rials of  our  impending  doom.  A  multitude 
of  these  remenibrancer.s  are  planted  in  all 
our  paths,  and  point  the  Inedlej^^  jiassengers 
to  their  long  home.  I  can  liaidly  enter  a 
considerable  town,  but  I  nieul  the  funeral 
procession  ;  or  the  mourners  going  about 
the  stix;ets.  The  hatchment  susjiended  on 
the  wall,  or  tbe  crape  streaming  in  the  air, 
are  silent  intimations,  that  both  rich  and 
poor  have  been  emptying  tlitir  houses,  and 
replenishing  their  sepulchres,  I  can  scarce 
join  in  any  conversation,  but  mei'.tion  is 
made  of  some  that  are  given  over  by  the 
physician,  and  hovering  on  the  confines  of 
eternity  ;  of  others,  that  have  just  dropt 
their  cltiy  amidst  weeping  friends,  and  are 
gone  to  appear  before  the  Judge  of  all  the 
earth.  I'here's  not  a  ncwsj.aper  comes  to 
my  hand,  but,  amidst  all  its  entertaining 
narrations,  reads  several  serious  lectures  of 
mortality.  What  else  are  the  repeated  ac- 
coimts  of  age  woni  out  by  slow-consinning 
sicknesses  ;  of  youth  dashed  to  pieces  by 
some  sudden  stroke  of  casualty  ;  of  patriots 
exchanging  their  seats  in  the  senate,  for  a 
lodging  in  the  tomb  ;  of  misers  resigning 
their  breath,  and(0!  relentless  destiny  !j 
leaving  their  very  riches  for  others  ?  Even 
the  vehicles  of  our  amusement  are  registers 
of  the  deceased  ;  and  the  voice  of  fame 
seldom  sounds  but  in  concert  with  a  knell. 

These  monitors  crowd  every  place  ;  not 
so  much  as  the  scenes  of  our  diversion  ex- 
cepted. What  arc  the  decorations  of  our 
public  buildings,  and  the  most  elegant  fur- 
niture of  our  parloui  s,  but  the  imagery  of 
death,  and  trophies  of  the  tomb  ?  That 
marble  bust,  and  those  gilded  pictures,  how 
solemnly  they  recognise  the  fate  of  othere, 
and  speakingly  remind  us  of  ctir  own  !  I 
see,  I  hear,  and  O  !  I  feel  this  great  truth  : 
It  is  interwoven  with  my  constitution.  The 
frequent  decays  of  the  struciure  foretell  its 
final  ruin.  What  are  all  the  pains  that 
have  been  darted  threugh  my  limbs  ;  what 
eveiy  disease  that  has  assau  ted  my  hetilth  ; 
but  tlie  advanced  guards  of  the  foe  ?  What 
are  the  hmgiKirs  and  ucariness  that  attend 
tiie  hibours  of  each  rt\oiviiig  day,  but  the 
iriorc  secret  ))ra<-iic'ts  of  the  adversary, 
slowly  undermining  the  earthly  tabernacle? 

Amidst  so  many  notices,  shall  we  go  on 
thoughtless  and  unconcerned  ?  (^an  none  of 
these  prognostics  which  are  a."*  siu'e  as 
(iracles,  awaken  our  attciition,   and   engage 


«ur  circumspection  ?  Noah,  it  is  ^vritten, 
being  warned  of  God,  prepared  an  ark. 
Imitate,  my  soul — imitate  this  excellent 
example.  Admonished  by  such  a  cloud  of 
witnesses,  be  continually  putting  thyself  in 
a  readiness  for  the  last  change.  Let  not 
that  day,  of  which  thou  hast  so  many  infal- 
lible signs,  come  upon  thee  unawares.  Get 
the  ivy  untwined,  and  thy  affections  disen- 
tangled from  this  enchanting  world,  that 
thou  mayest  be  able  to  quit  it  mthout  re- 
luctance. Get  the  dreadful  hand-writing 
cancelled,  and  all  thy  sins  blotted  out,  that 
thou  mayest  depart  in  peace,  and  have  no- 
thing to  fear  at  the  decisive  tribunal.  Get, 
O  !  get  thyself  interested  in  the  Redeem- 
er's merits ;  and  transformed  into  his  sa- 
cred image  ;  then  slialt  thou  be  meet  for 
the  inheritance  of  saints  in  light,  and  mayest 
even  desire  to  be  dissolved,  and  to  be  with 
Christ. 

Sometimes  in  my  evening  walk  I  have 
heard 

The  wakeful  bird, 

Sing  darkling,  and  in  shadiest  covert  hid. 
Tune  her  nocturnal  note.* 

How  different  the  airs  of  this  charming 
songster,  from  those  harsh  and  boding  out- 
cries !  The  little  creature  ran  through  all 
the  variations  of  music  ;  and  showed  her- 
self mistress  of  every  grace,  which  consti- 
tutes or  embellishes  harmony.  Sometimes 
she  swells  a  manly  throat,  and  her  song 
kindles  into  ardour.  The  tone  is  so  bold, 
and  strikes  with  such  energy,  you  would 
imagine  the  sprightly  serenader  in  the  very 
next  thicket.  Anon  the  strain  languishes, 
and  the  mournful  warbler  melts  into  ten- 
derness. The  melancholy  notes  just  steal 
upon  the  shades,  and  faintly  touch  yom-  ear ; 
or,  in  soft  and  sadly  pleasing  accents,  they 
seem  to  die  along  the  distant  vales,  silence 
is  pleased,  and  night  listens  to  the  trilling 
tale. 

What  an  invitation  is  this,  to  slip  away 
from  fhe  thronged  city !  This  coy  and  mo- 
dest minstrel  entertains  only  the  lovers  of 
retirement.  Those  who  are  carousing  over 
their  bowls,  or  ranting  at  the  riotous  club, 
lose  this  feast  of  harmony.  In  like  manner, 
the  pleasures  of  religion,  and  the  joy  of  re- 
conciliation with  God  ;  the  satisfaction  aris- 
ing from  an  established  interest  in  Christ, 
and  from  the  prospect  of  a  blissful  immor- 
tality ;  these  are  all  lost  to  the  mind  that  is 
ever  in  the  crowd,  and  dares  not,  or  de- 
lights not,  to  retire  within  itself.  Are  we 
charmed  with  the  nightingale's  song  !  Do 
we  wish  to  have  it  nearer,  and  hear  it  of- 
tener  !  Let  us  seek  a  renewed  heart,  and  a 
resigned  will,  a  conscience  that  whispers 
peace,  and  jiassions  that  are  timed  by  grace  ; 
then  shall  we  never  want  a  melody  in  our 

•  MUt.  Par.  Lost.  Book  HI.  1.  .38. 


CONTEMPLATIONS 

breasts,  far  more  musically  pleasing  ihaii 
sweet  Philomela's  sweetest  strains. 

As  different  as  the  voices  of  these  birds, 
are  the  circumstances  of  those  few  persons 
who  continue  awake.  Some  are  squander- 
ing  pearls,  shall  I  say,  or  kingdoms  ?  No ; 
but  what  is  unspeakably  more  precious — 
Time  !  squandering  this  inestimable  talent 
with  the  most  senseless  and  wanton  prodi- 
gality. Not  content  with  allowing  a  few 
spare  minutes  for  the  purpose  of  necessary 
recreation,  they  lavish  many  hours,  devote 
whole  nights,  to  that  idle  diversion  of  shuf- 
fling, ranging,  and  detaching  a  set  of  paint- 
ed pasteboards.  Others,  instead  of  this 
busy  trilling,  act  the  part  of  their  owi\  tor- 
mentors. They  even  piquet  themselves,* 
and  call  it  amusement ;  they  are  torn  by 
wild  horses,  yet  term  it  a  sport.  \Vliat 
else  is  the  gamester's  practice  ?  His  mind 
is  stretched  on  the  tenter-hooks  of  anxious 
suspense,  and  agitated  by  the  fiercest  ex- 
tremes of  hope  and  fear.  While  the  dice 
are  rattling,  his  heart  is  throbbing,  his  for- 
tune is  tottering  ;  and  possibly,  at  the  very 
next  tlu-ow,  the  one  sinks  in  the  gulf  of 
ruin,  the  other  is  hurried  into  the  rage  of 
distraction. 

Some,  snatched  from  the  bloom  of  health 
and  the  lap  of  plenty,  are  confined  to  the 
chamber  of  sickness  ;  where  they  are  con- 
strained either  to  plunge  into,  the  everlast- 
ing world  in  an  unprepared  condition,  or 
else  (sad  alternative  !)  to  think  over  all  the 
follies  of  a  heedless  life,  and  all  the  bitter- 
ness of  approaching  death.  The  disease 
rages,  it  baffles  the  force  of  medicine,  and 
urges  the  reluctant  wretch  to  the  brink 
of  the  precipice.  While  fiuies  rouse  the 
conscience,  and  point  at  the  bottomless 
pit  below.  Perhaps  his  drooping  mo- 
ther, deprived  long  ago  of  the  husband 
of  her  bosom,  and  bereft  of  all  her  other 
offspring,  is  even  now  receiving  the  blow 
which  consummates  her  calamities.f  In 
vain  she  tries  to  assuage  the  sorrows  of  a 


•  Alluding  to  a  very  painful  punishment,  inflicted 
on  delinquents  among  the  soldiery. 

t  This  brings  to  my  mind  one  of  the  deepest 
mourning-pieces  extant  in  the  productions  of  the 
pen.  The  sacred  historian  paints  it  in  all  the  simpli- 
city of  style,  yet  with  all  the  strength  of  colouring ; 
"  when  Jesus  came  nigh  to  the  gate  of  the  city,  be- 
hold !  there  was  a  dead  man  carried  out,  the  only  son 
of  his  mother,  and  she  was  a  widow."  What  a  grada- 
tion is  here!  How  pathetically  beautiful!  eveiy 
fresh  circumstance  widens  the  wound,  aggravates  the 
calamity,  till  the  description  is  worked  up  into  the 
most  fiiiished  picture  of  exquisite  and  inconsolable 
distress.  He  was  a  young  man,  cut  off  in  the  flower 
of  life  amidst  a  thousand  gay  expectations  and  smil- 
ing hopes.  A  son,  an  only  son  ;  the  afflicted  mother's 
all,  so  that  none  remained  to  preserve  the  name  or 
perpetuate  the  family.  What  rendered  the  case  still 
more  deplorable,  she  was  a  widow  !  left  entirely  deso- 
late ;  abandoned  to  her  woes  ;  without  any  to  share 
her  sorrows,  or  to  comfort  her  under  the  irreparable 
loss.  Is  not  this  a  fine  sketch  of  the  impassioned  and 
picturesque  .'  Who  can  consider  the  narrative  with 
any  attention,  and  not  feel  his  he 'rt  penetrated  with 
a  tender  commiseration  ?  Luke  vii.  I->. 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


87 


beloved  son  .  in  vain  she  attempts,  with 
her  tender  offices,  to  prolong  a  lite  dearer 
than  her  own.  He  faints  in  her  arms  :  he 
bows  his  head  :  he  sinks  in  death.  Fatal, 
doubly  fatal,  that  last  expiring  pang!  While 
it  dislodges  the  unwilling  soul,  it  rends  an 
only  child  from  the  yearning  embraces  of  a 
parent,  and  tears  away  the  support  of  her 
age  from  a  disconsolate  widow. 

While  these  long  for  a  re])rieve,  others 
invite  the  stroke.  Quite  weary  of  the 
world,  with  a  restless  impatience,  tlicy  sigh 
for  dissolution  ;  some  jjining  away  under 
tlie  tedious  decays  of  an  incurable  consump- 
tion, or  gasping  for  breath  and  almost  suf- 
focated by  an  inundation  of  dropsical  waters. 
On  some  a  relentless  cancer  has  fastened 
its  envenomed  teeth,  and  is  gnawing  them, 
though  in  the  midst  of  bodily  vigour,  in  the 
midst  of  pitying  friends,  gradually  to  death. 
Others  are  on  a  rack  of  agonies,  by  con- 
vulsive fits  of  the  stone.  O  !  how  the  pain 
writhes  their  limbs  !  How  the  sweat  be- 
dews their  flesh,  and  their  eye-balls  wildly 
roll !  IMethinks  the  night  condoles  with 
these  her  distressed  children,  and  sheds 
dewy  tears  over  their  sorrowful  abodes. 
But,  of  all  mortals,  they  are  the  most  ex- 
quisitely miserable,  who  groan  beneath  the 
pressure  of  a  melancholy  mind,  or  smart 
under  the  lashes  of  a  resentful  conscience. 
Though  robed  in  ermine,  or  covered  ivith 
jewels,  the  state  of  a  slave  chained  to  the 
gallies,  or  of  an  exile  condemned  to  the 
mines,  is  a  perfect  paradise  compared  with 
theirs. 

O  that  the  votaries  of  mirth,  whose  life 
is  a  continued  round  of  merriment  and 
whim,  would  bestow  one  serious  reflection 
on  thi.s  variety  of  human  \voes  !  It  might 
teach  them  to  be  less  enamoured  with  the 
few  languid  sweets,  that  ai'e  thinly  scatter- 
ed tlirough  this  vale  of  tears,  and  environed 
with  such  a  multitude  of  ragged  thorns.  It 
might  teach  them  no  longer  to  dance  away 
their  years,  with  a  giddy  rambling  impulse  ; 
but  to  aspire  with  a  determined  aim,  after 
those  happy  regions,  where  delights  abun- 
dant and  unimbittered  flow. 

Can  there  be  circumstances  which  a  man 
of  wisdom  would  more  earnestly  deprecate 
than  these  several  instances  of  grievous  tri- 
bulation ?  There  arc  ;  and  what  is  veiy  as- 
tonishing, they  are  frequently  the  desire 
and  the  choice  of  those,  who  fancy  them- 
selves the  sole  heirs  of  happiness  :  Those, 
I  mean,  who  arc  launching  out  into  the 
dejjths  of  extravagance,  and  running  exces- 
sive lengths  of  riot ;  who  are  prostituting 
tlieir  reputation,  and  sacriflcing  their  peace, 
to  the  gratification  of  their  lusts  ;  sapjiinj 
the  foundation  of  their  health  in  debauch 
eries,  or  shipwrecking  the  interests  of  thci 
lamilies  in  their  bowls,  and  what  is  worse,  are 
forfeiting  the  joys  of  ;in  eternal  heaven,  for  the 


sordid  satisfactions  of  the  beast,  for  the  tran- 
sitory sensations  of  an  hour.  Ye  slaves  of 
appetite,  how  far  am  I  from  envying  your 
gross  sensualities  and  voluptuous  revels  ! 
Little,  ah  !  little  are  you  sensible,  that 
while  indidgence  showers  her  roses,  and 
luxury  diffuses  her  odours,  they  scatter  poi- 
sons also,  and  shed  unheeded  bane.  • — Evils 
incomparably  more  malignant  than  the 
wormwood  and  gall  of  the  sharpest  afflic- 
tion. Since  death  is  in  the  drunkard's  cup, 
and  worse  than  poinards  in  the  harlot's  em- 
brace, may  it  ever  be  the  privilege  of  the 
man  whom  I  love,  to  go  without  his  share 
of  these  pestilent  sweets  !f 

Abundance  of  living  sparks  glitter  in  the 
lanes,  and  twinkle  under  the  hedges.  I 
suppose  they  are  the  glow-worms,  M'hich 
have  lighted  their  little  lamps,  and  obtained 
leave,  through  the  absence  of  the  sun,  to 
play  a  feeble  beam.  A  faint  glimmer  just 
serves  to  render  them  perceivable,  without 
tending  at  all  to  dissipate  the  shades,  or 
making  any  amends  for  the  departed  day. 
Should  some  weather-beaten  traveller,  drop- 
ping with  wet,  and  shivering  with  cold,  ho- 
ver round  this  mimicry  of  fire,  in  order  to 
dry  his  garments  and  warm  his  benumbed 
limbs  ;  should  some  bewildered  traveller, 
groping  for  his  way,  in  a  starless  night,  and 
trackless  desert,  tiike  one  of  these  languid 
tapers,  as  a  light  to  his  feet,  and  a  lantern 
to  his  path  ;  how  certainly  would  both  the 
one  and  the  other  be  frustrated  of  their  ex- 
pectation !  And  are  they  more  likely  to 
succeed,  who,  neglecting  that  sovereign 
balm  which  distilled  from  the  cross,  apply 
any  carnal  diversion  to  heal  the  anxiety  of 
the  mind  ?  who,  deaf  to  the  infallible  deci- 
sions of  revelation,  resign  themselves  over 
to  the  erroneous  conjectures  of  reason,  in 
order  to  find  the  way  that  leadeth  unto  life  ? 
or,  lastly,  who  have  recourse  to  the  froth  of 
this  vain  world,  for  a  satisfactory  portion 
and  a  substantial  happiness  ?  Their  conduct 
is  in  no  degree  wiser;  their  disappointment 
equally  sure  ;  and  their  miscarriage  infin- 
itely more  disastrous.  To  speak  in  the 
delicate  lang\iage  of  a  sacred  writer,  "  they 
sow  the  wind,  and  ^vill  reap  the  \\liirlwind." 
Hos.  viii.  7. 

Tq  speak  moie  plainly,  the  pleasures  of 
the  world,  wliich  we  are  all  so  prone  to 
dote  upon  ;  and  the  powers  of  fallen  reason, 
wliicb  some  are  so  apt  to  idolize  ;);  are  not 


•  Ves  in  the  flow'rs  that  wreathe  the  sparkling  bowl. 

Fell  adders  hiss,  and  pois'nons  serpents  roll. 

I'rior's  Sol. 
t  "  IJuam  snava  est  suavitatibus  istis  carere  '." — 
was  St.  Augustine's  pious  exclamation.     The  sub- 
stance of  which  Mr.  Pope  has  expressed  with  more 
simplicity,  and  with  no  less  dignity. 

Count  all  the  advantage  prosperous  Vice  attains. 

'Tis  but  what  Virtue  ilics  from  and  disdains. 

if.  I  hope  it  will  be  observed,  that  1  .am  far  from  de- 
crying that  noble  faculty  of  rcison  when  exerted  in  her 
proper  sphere,  when  aoiiiig  in  a  dirttrentinlsii'x)rdin- 
ation  to  ilic  revealed  will  of  heaven.     While  she  fx- 


88 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


only  vain,  but  treacherous ;  not  only  a  paint- 
ed flame,  like  the  sparkling  animals,  but  much 
like  those  unctuous  exhalations,  which  arise 
from  the  marshy  ground,  and  often  dance 
before  the  eye  of  the  benighted  way-faring 
man.  Kindled  into  a  sort  of  fire,  they  per- 
sonate a  guide,  and  seem  to  offer  their  ser- 
vice ;  but  blazing  with  delusive  light,  mis- 
lead their  follower  into  hidden  pits,  head- 
long precipices,  and  unfathomable  gulfs  ; 
where,  far  from  his  beloved  friends,  far  from 
all  hopes  of  succour,  the  unhappy  wanderer 
is  swallowed  up  and  lost. 

Not  long  ago  we  observed  a  very  surpris- 
ing appearance  in  the  western  sky.  A  pro- 
digious star  took  its  flaming  route  through 
those  coasts ;  and  trailed  as  it  passed,  a  tre- 
mendous length  of  fire,  almost  over  half  the 
heavens.  Some,  I  imagine,  viewed  the  por- 
tentous stranger,  with  much  the  same  anx- 
ious amazement  as  Belshazzar  beheld  the 
hand-writing  upon  the  wall.  Some  looked 
upon  it  as  a  bloody*  flag,  hung  out  by  di- 
vine resentment  over  a  guilty  world.  Some 
read  in  its  glaring  visage  the  fate  of  nations, 
and  the  fall  of  kingdoms.f  To  others  it 
shook,  or  seemed  to  shake,  pestilence  and 
war  from  its  horrid  hair.  For  my  part,  I 
am  not  so  superstitious  as  to  regard  what 
every  astrologer  has  to  prognosticate  upon 
the  accession  of  a  comet,  or  the  projection 
of  its  huge  vapoury  train.  Nothing  can  be 
more  precarious  and  unjustifiable,  than  to 
draw  such  conclusions  from  such  events  ; 
since  they  neither  are  preternatural  effects, 
nor  do  they  throw  the  frame  of  things  into 
any  disorder.  I  would  rather  adore  that 
omnipotent  Being,  who  rolled  those  stupen- 
dous orbs  from  his  creating  hand,  and  leads 
tliem  by  his  providential  eye,  through  un- 
ineasurable  tracts  of  ether  ;  who  bids  them 
now  approach  the  sun,  and  glow  with  un- 
suffenible  ardours  ;f  now  retreat  to  the  ut- 


ercises  lier  powers  within  these  appointed  limits,  she 
is  unspeakably  serviceable,  and  cannot  be  too  indus- 
ti  iously  cultivated  ;  but,  when  she  sets  up  herself  in 
proud  contradiction  to  the  sacred  oracles;  when,  all 
qrrogant  and  self-suiKcient,  she  says  to  the  word  of 
sc-ripture,  I  have  no  need  of  thee  ;  she  is  then,  I  must 
be  bold  to  maintain,  not  only  a  glow-worm,  but  an 
U':?iisfatuiis,  not  only  a  bubble,  but  a  snare. 
"  May  not  this  remark,  with  the  strictest  propriety, 
and  without  the  least  limitation,  be  applied  to  thege- 
nerality  of  our  modern  romances,  novels,  and  theatri- 
cal entertainments  >  These  are  commonly  calculated 
to  inflame  a  wanton  fancv  ;  or,  if  conducted  with  so 
much  modesty  as  not  to  debauch  the  affections,  they 
l.ervcrt  the  judgment,  and  bewilder  the  taste.  By 
tlieir  incredible  adventures,  their  extravagant  parade 
of  gallantry,  and  their  characters  widely  different 
from  truth 'and  nature,  they  inspire  foolish  conceits, 
beget  idle  expectations,  introduce  a  disgust  of  genume 
history,  and  indispose  their  admirers  to  acquiesce  in 
the  decent  civilities,  or  to  relish  the  sober  satisfactions 
of  connnon  life. 

• Liquida  si  quando  nocte  cometa 

Sanguinei  lugubre  rubenl.—  Virg. 

+  Crinemquetimendi 

Sideris.  et  terris,  mutantem  regna  cometum. 
t  "The  comet  in  the  year  of  1680,  according  to 
!-ir  Isaac  Newton's  computation,  was,  in  its  nearest 
approach,  above  166  times  nearer  the  sun  than  the 
I  arth  is.  Consequently,  its  heat  was  then  98.0(XI  times 
prr.atrrthan  that  of  summer.    So  that  a  ball  nf  iron  as 


most  bounds  of  our  planetary  system,  an^ 
make  their  entry  among  other  worlds. 

They  are  harmless  visitants.  I  acquit 
them  from  the  charge  of  causing,  or  being 
accessory  to  desolating  plagues.  Would  to 
God  there  were  no  other  more  formidable 
indications  of  approaching  judgments,  or 
impending  ruin  !  But,  alas  !  when  vice  be- 
comes predominant,  and  irreligion  almost 
epidemical ;  when  the  sabbaths  of  a  jealous 
God  are  notoriously  profaned,  and  that 
name  which  is  great,  wonderful,  and  holy, 
is  prostituted  to  the  meanest,  or  abused  to 
the  most  execrable  purposes  ;  when  the 
worship  of  our  great  Creator  and  Preserver 
is  banished  from  many  of  the  most  conspi- 
cuous families,  and  it  is  deemed  a  piece  of 
rude  impertinence  so  much  as  to  mention 
the  gracious  Redeemer  in  our  genteel  inter- 
views ;  when  it  passes  for  an  elegant  freedom 
of  behaviour  to  ridicule  the  mysteries  of 
Christianity,  and  a  species  of  refined  conver- 
sation to  taint  the  air  with  lascivious  hints ; 
when  those  who  sit  in  the  scorner's  chair  sin 
with  a  high  hand,  and  many  of  those  who 
wear  the  professor's  garb,  are  destitute  of 
the  power,  and  content  themselves  with  the 
mere  form  of  godliness ;  when  such  is  the 
state  of  a  community,  there  is  reason,  too 
apparent  reason,  to  be  horribly  afraid.  Such 
phenomena  aboimding  in  the  moral  world, 
are  not  fanciful,  but  real  omens.  Will  not 
an  injured  God  be  avenged  on  such  a  nation 
as  this  ?  Will  he  not  be  provoked  to  "  sweep 
it  with  the  besom  of  destruction?"* 

O  that  the  inhabitants  of  Great  Britain 
would  lay  these  alarming  considerations  to 
heart !  The  Lord  of  hosts  has  commanded 
the  sword  of  civil  discord  to  retiuTi  into  its 
sheath ;  but  have  we  returned  every  one 
from  his  evil  ways  ?  Are  we  become  a  re- 
newed people,  devoted  to  a  dying  Saviour, 
and  zealous  of  good  works?  What  mean 
those  peals  of  sobs  which  burst  from  the  ex- 
piring cattle  ?  What  mean  those  melancholy 
moans,  where  the  lusty  droves  were  wont 
to  low  ?f  What  mean  those  arrows  of  un- 
timely deaths,  discharged  on  our  innocent 
and  useful  animals  ? 

No  wantonness  or  sloth  has  vitiated  the 
blood  of  these  laborious,  temperate  crea- 
tures.     They  have  contracted   no  disease 


big  as  the  earth  heated  by  it,  would  hardly  beccnne 
cool  in  50,000  years."   Der.  Astr.  Theo.  p.  237. 

»  Isa.  xiv-  23.  The  eternal  sovereign,  speaking  of 
Babylon,  denounces  this  threatening,  "  I  will  sweep 
it  with  the  besom  of  destruction." — W  hat  a  noble,  but 
dreadful  image  is  here  I  How  strongly  and  awfully 
pourtrayed  I  How  pregnant  also  is  its  signification  : 
intimating  the  vile  nature,  and  expressing  the  total 
extirpation  of  this  wicked  people  ;  at  the  same  time, 
suggesting  the  perfect  ease  with  which  the  righteous 
GoQ  would  execute  his  intencted  vengeance. 

f  If  these  papers  should  be  so  happy  as  to  outlive 
their  author,  perhaps  it  may  be  needful  to  inform  pos- 
terity, that  the  above  mentioned  hints  allude  to  a 
most  terrible  cont.igious  and  mortal  distemper,  raging 
among  the  hornrd  cattle  in  v»»ious  partsof  the  king- 
dom 


ON  TlIK  XIGIIT. 


89 


from  unseasonable  iin.;u?„''ei::-es  and  inordi- 
riate  revelliiigs.  The  pure  stream  is  their 
di-hik  ;  the  simple  herb  their  rej)ast.  Nei- 
ther care  disturbs  their  sleej),  nor  passion  in- 
flames their  breast.  Whence,  then,  are  they 
visited  with  such  terrible  disorders,  as  no 
prudence  can  jirevent,  nor  any  medicines 
heal  ?  Siuely  these  calamities  are  the  wea- 
)ions  of  divine  displeasure,  and  manifest 
chastisements  of  an  evil  generation  !*  Sure- 
ly God,  the  God  to  whom  vengeance  be- 
longeth,  has  still  a  controversy  with  our  sin- 
ful land  !  And  who  can  tell  where  the  visi- 
tation will  end  ?  AVhat  a  storm  may  follow 
these  delusive  drops  ?  O  that  we  u)ay 
"  hear  the  rod,  and  who  hath  appointed  it  I" 
Taught  by  these  penal  effects  of  our  disobe- 
dience, may  we  remove  the  accursed  thing 
from  our  tents,  our  practices,  our  hearts  ; 
(Joshua  vi.  18.)  May  we  turn  from  all  un- 
godliness, before  wrath  come  upon  us  to 
the  uttermost ;  before  iniquity  prove  our 
ruin ! 

Sometimes  at  this  hour,  another  most  re- 
markable sight  amuses  the  curious,  and 
alarms  the  vulgar.  A  blaze  of  lambent 
meteors  is  kindled,  or  some  very  extraor- 
dinary lights  are  refracted,  in  the  quarters 
of  the  north.  The  streams  of  radiance,  like 
legions  rushing  to  the  engagement,  meet 
and  mingle,  insomuch  that  the  air  seems  to 
be  all  conflicting  fire.  Within  a  while  they 
start  from  one  another,  and,  like  legions  in 
precipitate  flight,  sweep  each  a  sepai'ate  way 
through  the  tirmament.  Now  they  are 
quiescent,  anon  they  are  throwii  into  a  qui- 
vering motion  ;  presently  the  whole  horizon 
is  illuminated  with  the  glancing  flames. 
Sometimes,  with  an  aspect  awfully  ludi- 
iTous,  they  represent  extravagant  and  antic 
vagaries  :  at  other  times,  you  would  suspect 
that  some  invisible  hand  was  playing  off  the 
dumb  artillery  of  the  skies,  and,  by  a  strange 
expedient,  giving  us  the  flash  without  the 
n)rtr. 

The  villagers  gaze  at  the  spectacle :  first 
with  wonder,  then  with  horror.  A  gener- 
;)1  T)anic  seizes  the  country.  Every  heart 
throbs,  and  every  face  is  pale.  The  crowds 
that  flock  together,  instead  of  diminishing, 
increase  the  dread.  They  catch  contagion 
from  each  other's  looks  and  words  :  while 
tear  is  ni  every  eye,  and  every  tongue  speaks 
the  language  of  terror.  Some  see  hideous 
sliajjes,  armies  mixing  in  fierce  encounter,  or 
fields  swimming  with  blood.  Some  fore- 
see direfid  events,  states  overthrown,  or 
mighty  monarchs  tottering  on  their  thrones. 
Others,  scared  witii  still  more  frightful  ap- 
prehensions, think  of  nothing  hut  the  day 
of  <ioom.      "  Sure,"  says  one,  "  tlic  unalter- 


Hiuc  ti»'lis  vitiili  vulgo  nioriuntpt  inherliis 
f'A  <lulie!(animas  plena  ad  pripsepiarpcldMnt, 
n?.iatii  hinr  ppconnn.  et  crebis,  mugitilnis  ainnos, 
Ar<  nlesquc  sonHn;  ripan,  rollpsqur  siipini. —  f'irit. 


able  hour  is  struck,  mul  the  end  of  all  things 
come."  "  See,"  replies  another,  "  how  the 
blasted  stars  look  wan  !  Are  not  these  the 
signs  of  the  Son  of  man  coming  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven  ?"  "  Jesus,  prepare  us," 
( cries  a  third,  and  lifts  up  his  eyes  in  devo- 
tion) for  the  archangel's  trump,  and  the 
great  tribunal  !" 

If  this  waving  brightness,  which  plays 
innocently  over  our  heads,  be  so  amazing  to 
multitudes  ;  what  inexpressible  consterna- 
tion must  overwhelm  unthinking  mortals, 
when  the  general  conflagration  commences  ! 
The  day,  the  dreadful  day,  is  approaching, 
"  in  the  which  the  heavens  shall  pass  away 
with  a  great  noise  ;"*  and  the  elements 
shall  melt  with  fervent  heat ;  the  earth  also, 
and  all  the  works  that  are  therein,  shall  be 
bunit  up.  That  mighty  hand,  which  once 
opened  the  windows  from  on  high,  and 
broke  up  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep,, 
will  then  luilock  all  the  magazines  of  fire, 
and  pour  a  second  deluge  upon  the  earth. 
The  vengeful  flames,  kindled  by  the  breath 
of  the  Almighty,  spread  themselves  from 
the  centre  to  the  circumference.  Nothing 
can  withstand  their  impetuosity  ;  nothing 
can  escape  their  rage.  Universal  desola- 
tion attends  their  progress.  Magnificent 
psilaces,  and  solemn  temples,  are  liiid  in 
ashes.  Spacious  cities,  and  impregnable 
towers,  are  mingled  in  one  smoking  mass. 
Not  only  the  productions  of  human  art,  but 
the  works  of  almighty  power,  are  fuel  for 
the  devouring  element.  The  everlasting 
mountains  melt,  like  the  snows  which  cover 
their  summit.  Even  vast  oceans  serve  only 
to  augment  the  inconceivable  rapidity  and 
fury  of  the  blaze.  O  !  how  shall  I  or 
others  stand  undismayed  amidst  the  glare 
of  a  burning  world,  unless  the  Lord  Jeho- 
vah be  our  defence  ?  How  shall  we  be  up- 
held in  security,  when  the  globe  itself  is 
sinking  in  a  fierj'  ruin,  unless  the  Rock  of 
ages  be  our  suj)port. 

Behold  a  new  spectacle  of  wonder  !  The 
moon  is  making  her  entry  on  the  eastern 
sky.      See  her  rising  in  clouded  majesty  ! 


*  2  Pet.  iii.  10.  1  have  often  thought  this  verse  an 
eminent  instance  of  that  kind  of  beautiful  writing,  in 
which  the  very  sound  bears  a  sort  of  significancy ;  at 
least  carries  an  exact  correspondence  with  the  sense. 
The  original  expression  is  one  of  the  hoarsest  and 
deepest  words  in  language.  Nothing  could  be  more 
exquisitely  adapted  to  affect  the  ear,  as  well  as  im- 
press the  imagination,  with  the  wreck  of  nature,  and 
the  crash  of  a  fallen  world.  I  scarce  ever  read  this 
clause,  but  it  brings  to  my  mind  that  admired  descrip- 
tion in  Milton: 

On  a  sudden  open  fly, 

With  impetuous  recoil,  anil  jarring  sound, 
Th'  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hmges  grate 
Harsh  thunder.— »"./,-.  II.  1.  U7f). 

It  is  a  pleasing  employ,  and  a  very  laudable  office  of 
true  criticisii!,  to  point  otit  these  inferior  recom- 
mendaliimsof  the  sacred  cIassic^.  Though  1  believe, 
the  inspired  writers  themwhes,  .-niiiflst  all  the  eleva- 
tion and  magnificence  of  their  lli^  ino  ideas,  fMsdainert 
a  scrupulous  attention  to  Mich  liKlc  nicetit  s  of  style. 


90 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


opening  as  it  were,  and  asserting  her  origi- 
n<J  oommission  to  rule  over  the  night.  All 
grand  and  stately,  but  somewhat  sullied  is 
her  aspect.  However,  she  brightens  as  she 
advances,  and  grows  dearer  as  she  climbs 
higher,  till  at  length  her  silver  loses  all  its 
dross  :  she  unveils  her  peerless  light,  and 
becomes  "  the  beauty  of  heaven,  the  glory 
of  the  stars,"*  delighting  eveiy  eye,  and 
cheering  the  whole  world,  with  the  bright- 
ness of  her  appearance  and  the  softness  of 

her   splendours O,    thou    queen    of  the 

shades  !  may  it  be  my  ambition  to  follow 
this  thy  instructive  example  !  Wliile  others 
are  fond  to  transcribe  the  fashions  of  little 
courts,  and  to  mimic  personages  of  inferior 
state  ;  be  it  mine  to  imitate  thy  improving 
purity.  May  my  conduct  become  more 
unblemished,  and  my  temper  more  refined, 
as  I  proceed  farther  and  farther  in  my  pro- 
bationaiy  course.  May  every  sordid  desire 
wear  away,  and  every  irregular  appetite  be 
gradually  lost,  as  I  make  nearer  approaches 
to  the  celestial  mansions.  Will  not  this  be 
a  comfortable  evidence,  that  I  too  shall 
shine  in  my  adored  Redeemer's  kingdom  ? 
shine  with  a  richer  lustre  than  that  which 
radiates  from  thy  resplendent  orb  ;  shine 
with  an  imfading  lustre,  when  every  ray 
that  beams  from  thy  beauteous  sphere  is 
totally  extinguished  ? 

The  day  afforded  us  a  variety  of  enter- 
taining sights.  These  were  all  withdrawn 
at  the  accession  of  darkness.  The  stars, 
kindly  officious,  immediately  lent  us  their 
aid.  This  served  to  alleviate  the  fro^^^l  of 
liight,  rather  than  to  recover  the  objects  from 
their  obscurity.  A  faint  ray,  scarcely  re- 
flected, and  not  from  the  entire  surface  of 
things,  gave  the  straining  eye  a  very  imper- 
fect glimpse ;  such  as  rather  mocked  than 
satisfied  vision.  Now  tae  moon  is  risen, 
and  has  collected  all  her  beams,  the  veil  is 
taken  from  off  the  countenance  of  nature. 
I  see  the  recumbent  flocks  ;  I  see  the  green 
hedge-rows,  though  without  the  feathered 
choristers  hoping  from  spray  to  spray.  In 
short,  I  see  once  again  the  world's  great 
picture  ;  not  indeed  in  its  late  lively  colours, 
but  more  delicately  shaded,  and  arrayed  in 
softer  charms. f 

What  a  majestic  scene  is  here  !  incom- 
parably grand,  and  exquisitely  fine  !  The 
moon,  like  an  immense  crystal  lamp,  pen- 
dent in  the  magnificent  ceiling  of  the  hea- 
vens. The  stars,  like  so  many  thousands 
of  golden  tapers,  fixed  in  their  azure  sockets. 
All  pouring  their  lustre  on  spacious  cities, 
and  lofty  mountains ;  glittering  on  the 
ocean,  gleaming  on  the  forest ;  and  open- 


•  EccVus.  xliii.  9. 

Lucidum  cccli  decus. — Hor. 

*  Now  reigns 

Full  orb'd  the  moon,  and  with  more  pleasing  light 

shadowy  sets  ofl'tlie  lace  ol  thiii!'s.— U/2/. 


ing  a  prospect,  wide  as  the  eye  can  glance, 
more  various  than  fancy  can  paint.*  AVe 
are  forward  to  admire  the  performances  of 
human  art.  A  landscape,  elegantly  design- 
ed, and  executed  with  a  masterly  hand  ;  a 
piece  of  statuary,  which  seems,  amidst  all 
the  recommendations  of  exact  proportion 
and  graceful  attitude,  to  soften  into  flesh, 
and  almost  breathe  with  life  ; — these  little 
imitations  of  natiu-e,  we  behold  with  a 
pleasing  surprise.  And  shall  we  be  less 
affected,  less  delighted,  with  the  inexpres- 
sibly noble,  and  completely  finished  origi- 
nal ?  The  ample  dimensions  of  Ranelagh's 
dome,  the  gay  illuminations  of  A'^auxhal! 
grove,  I  should  scorn  to  mention  on  such 
an  occasion,  were  they  not  the  objects  ot 
general  admiration.  Shall  we  be  charmed 
with  those  puny  essays  of  finite  ingeninty, 
and  touched  with  no  transport  at  this  stu- 
pendous display  of  omnipotent  skill  ?  at  the 
august  grandeur,  and  shining  stateliness  of 
the  firmament ;  which  forms  an  alcove  for 
ten  thousand  worlds,  and  is  ornamented 
with  myriads  of  everlasting  luminaries? 
Surely,  this  must  betray,  not  only  a  total 
want  of  religion,  but  the  most  abject  little- 
ness of  mind,  and  the  utmost  poverty  of 
genius. 

The  moon  is  not  barely  "  an  ornament  in 
the  high  places  of  the  Lord,"  (Eccl'us.  xliii. 
9.)  but  of  signal  service  to  the  inhabitants 
of  tbe  earth.  How  uncomfortable  is  deep, 
pitchy,  total  darkness  !  especially  in  the 
long  absence  of  the  winter's  sun.  Wel- 
come, therefore,  thrice  welcome,  this  aus- 
picious gift  of  Providence,  to  enliven  the 
nocturnal  gloom,  and  line  with  silver  the 
raven-coloured  mantle  of  night.  How  de- 
sirable to  have  our  summer  evenings  illu- 
minated !  that  we  may  be  able  to  tread  the 
dewy  meads,  and  breathe  the  delicious  fra- 
grance, of  om"  gardens  ;  especially,  when  the 
sultry  heats  render  it  irksome  and  fatiguing 
to  walk  abroad  by  day.  How  cheering  to 
the  shepherd  the  use  of  this  universal  lan- 
tern, as  he  tends  his  fleecy  charge,  or  late 
consigns  them  to  their  hurdled  cots  !  How 
comfortable  and  how  advantageous  to  the 
mariner,  as  he  ploughs  the  midnight  main, 
to  adjust  the  tackling,  to  explore  his  way, 


*  As  when  the  moon,  refulgent  lamp  of  night. 
O'er  heaven's  clear  aziire  spreads  her  sacred  light ; 
When  not  a  breath  disturb?  the  deep  serene, 
And  not  a  cloud  o'ercasts  the  solemn  scene ; 
Around  her  throne  the  vivid  planets  roll. 
And  stars  unnumber'd  gild  the  glowing  pole ; 
O'er  the  dark  trees  a  yellower  verdure  shed. 
And  tip  with  silver  ever/  mountain's  head  : 
Then  shine  the  vales,  the  rocks  in  prospect  rise ; 
A  flood  of  glory  bursts  from  all  the  skies  : 
The  conscious  swains,  rejoicing  in  the  sight, 
Eye  the  blue  vault,  and  bless  the  useful  light. 
Iliad  viii. 

I  transcribe  these  lines,  because  Mr.  Pope  says,  thev 
exhibit,  in  the  original,  the  finest  night-piece  in 
poetry.  .\nA  if  they  are  so  beautiful  in  Homer's  lan- 
guage, who  can  suspect  their  suffering  any  disadva'i- 
tage  from  the  pen  of  his  admirable  trans.l:.ti  r  ? 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


01 


and  under  the  influence  of  this  beaming 
sconce,  to  avoid  the  fatal  rock  !  For  these, 
and  other  beneficial  purposes,  the  hand  of 
the  Almighty  has  hung  the  stately  branch 
on  high  ;  and  filled  it  ^^^th  a  splendour  not 
confined  to  a  single  edifice,  or  commensu- 
rate to  a  particular  square,  but  difl^usive  as 
the  whole  extent  of  the  hemisphere. 

The  most  faithful  of  our  inferior  ser- 
vants are  sometimes  tardy  in  their  office, 
sometimes  negligent  of  their  duty.  But 
this  celestial  attendant  is  most  exactly 
punctual,  at  all  the  stated  periods  of  her 
ministration.  If  we  choose  to  prolong  our 
journey  after  the  sun  is  gone  do\\ni,  the 
moon,  during  her  whole  increase,  is  always 
ready  to  act  in  the  ca])acity  of  a  guide.  If 
we  are  inclined  to  set  out  very  early  iii  the 
morning,  the  moon,  in  her  decrease,  pre- 
vents the  dawni,  on  purpose  to  offer  her  as- 
sistance. And  because  it  is  so  pleasant  a 
thing  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  light,  the 
moon,  at  her  full,  by  a  course  of  unintermit- 
ted  waiting,  gives  us  as  it  were  a  double 
day.  How  apparently  has  the  divine  wis- 
dom interested  itself,  in  providing  even  for 
the  pleasurable  accommodation  of  man  ' 
How  desirous  that  he  should  want  no  piece 
of  commodious  funiiture,  no  kind  of  delight- 
ful convenience ;  and,  in  prosecution  of 
these  benevolent  intentions,  has  annexed  so 
valuable  an  appendage  to  the  terrestrial 
globe.  Justly,  therefore,  does  the  Psalmist 
celebrate  that  admirable  constitution,  which 
ordained  the  moon  and  the  stars  to  govern 
the  night,  as  an  instance  of  rich  goodness, 
and  of  mercy  which  endureth  for  ever  : 
(Psalm  cxxxvi.  9. 

The  moon,  it  is  confessed,  is  no  lumi- 
nous body.  All  the  brightness  which  beau- 
tifies her  countenance  is  originally  in  the 
sun,  and  no  more  than  transmissively  in  her. 
That  glorious  orb  is  the  parent  of  day,  and 
the  palace  of  light.  From  thence  the  morn- 
ing star  gilds  her  horn  ;*  from  thence  the 
planetai-y  circles  are  crowned  with  lustre ; 
and  from  thence  the  moon  derives  all  her 
silver  radiance.  It  is  pleasing  to  reflect, 
that  such  is  the  case  with  the  all-sufficient 
Redeemer,  and  his  dependent  people.  We 
are  replenished  from  his  fulness.  What  do 
we  possess  wliich  we  have  not  received ; 
and  what  can  we  desire,  which  we  may  not 
expect  from  that  never-failing  source  of  all 
good  ?  He  is  the  author  of  our  faith,  and 
the  former  of  our  graces.  In  his  unspotted 
life,  we  see  the  path  ;  in  his  meritorious 
death,  the  price ;  and  in  his  triumphant  re- 


*  I  mifflit,  to  justify  tliiu  expression,  observe  that 
the  planet  Venus,  coinnionly  called  the  niorningstar, 
is  found  bv  our  telesropcs  frequently  to  appwir  horn- 
ed; or  to  have  a  crescent  of  light,  somewhat  like  the 
moon,  a  little  before  or  after  her  conjunction.  But 
this  would  be  a  remark  too  deep  and  refined  for  my 
scheme;  which  proceeds  only  upona^uiierlicial  know- 
ledge, and  the  most  ob\  iousappearances  of  nature. 


surrection,  the  proof — of  bliss  and  iirunor- 
tality.  If  we  offend  and  fall  seven  times  a- 
day,  he  is  the  Lord  our  peace,  (Judges  vi. 
'24.)  If  we  are  depraved,  and  our  best 
deeds  very  unworthy ;  he  is  the  Lord  our 
righteousness,  (Jer.  xxiii.  6.)  If  we  are 
blind,  and  even  brutish,  in  heavenly  know- 
ledge ;  he  is  the  Lord  our  wisdom,  (I, Cor. 
i.  30. )  his  word  dispels  the  shades  ;  liis 
Spirit  scatters  the  intellectual  gloom  ;  his 
eye  looks  oiu-  darkness  into  day.  In  short 
we  are  nothing,  and  "  Christ  is  all."  Worse 
than  defective  in  ourselves,  "  we  are  com- 
plete in  him."  So  that  if  we  shine,  it  is 
with  delegated  rays,  and  with  borrowed 
light.  We  act  by  a  strength,  and  glory 
in  metits,  not  our  own.  Oh  !  may  we 
be  thoroughly  sensible  of  our  depend- 
ence on  the  Saviour.  IMay  we  constantly 
imbibe  his  propitious  beams  ;  and  never, 
by  indulging  unbelief,  or  backsliding  into 
folly,  withdraw  our  souls  from  his  benign 
influences  ;  lest  we  lose  our  comfort  and 
oiu'  holiness,  as  the  fair  ruler  of  the  night 
loses  her  splendour,  when  her  um  is  tiu'ned 
from  its  fountain,*  and  receives  no  more 
communications  of  solar  effidgence. 

The  moon  is  incessantly  varying,  either 
in  her  aspect,  or  her  stages.  Sometimes 
she  looks  full  upon  us,  and  her  visage  is  all 
lustre  :  Sometimes  she  appears  in  profile, 
and  shows  us  only  half  her  enlightened 
face ;  anon,  a  radiant  crescent  but  just  adorns 
her  brow ;  soon  it  dwindles  into  a  slender 
streak  ;  till  at  length,  all  her  beauty  vanish- 
es, and  she  becomes  a  beamless  orb.  Some- 
times she  rises  with  the  descending  day, 
and  begins  her  procession  amidst  admiring 
multitudes  ;  ere  long,  she  defers  her  progress 
till  the  midnight  watches,  and  steals  unob- 
served upon  the  sleeping  world.  Some- 
times she  just  enters  the  edges  of  the  west- 
ern horizon,  and  drops  us  a  ceremonious  visit. 
Within  a  while,  she  sets  out  on  her  nightly 
torn-  from  the  opposite  regions  of  the  east, 
traverses  the  whole  hemisphere,  and  never 
offers  to  withdraw,  till  the  more  refulgent 
partner  of  her  sway  renders  her  presence  un- 
necessary. In  a  word,  she  is,  while  con- 
versant among  us,  still  waxing  or  waning, 
and  "never  continueth  in  one  stay." 

Such  is  the  moon,  and  such  are  all  sub- 
lunary things — exposed  to  perpetual  vicissi- 
tudes. How  often,  and  how  soon,  have  the 
faint  echoes  of  renown  slept  in  silence,  or 
been  converted  into  the  clamours  of  oblo- 
quy !  The  same  lips ;  almost  with  the  same 
breath,  cry,  Hosanna  and  Crucify.  Have 
not  riches  confessed  their  notorious  trea- 
chery a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times  ? 
either  melting  away  like  snow  in  our  hands 


Alluding  to  those  truly  poetical  lines  in  Milton. 
Hither,  as  lo  their  fountain,  other  stars 
Itepaiting,  in  their  golden  urns  draw  light. 

Par.  Lo.'f,  Bt,"k  vii. 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


b}'  in.seiisibk-  dL-^-rec'; ,  or  escaping  like  a 
■\\iiigcd  j-.i-ihoiier  from  its  cage  with  a  preci- 
pitate flight.  Have  we  not  known  the 
bridegrtiuiu's  closet  an  anti-chiiniber  to  tbe 
tomb  ;  and  beard  tbe  voice  which  so  lately 
pronounced  the  sparkling  pair  husband  and 
wife,  proclaim  an  everlasting  divorce,  and 
seal  the  decree  with  that  solemn  assevera- 
tion, "  Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust !"  Our 
friends,  though  the  medicine  of  life — our 
health,  though  the  balm  of  nature,  are  a 
most  precarious  possession.  How  soon 
may  the  first  become  a  corpse  in  our  arms ; 
and  how  easily  is  the  last  destroyed  in  its 
vigour  !  You  have  seen,  no  doubt,  a  set  of 
pretty  painted  birds,  perching  on  your  trees, 
or  sporting  in  your  meadows.  You  was 
pleased  with  the  lovely  visitants,  that 
brought  beauty  on  their  wings,  and  melody 
'  in  their  throats.  But  could  you  insure  the 
continuance  of  this  agreeable  entertainment? 
No,  truly.  At  the  least  distm'bing  noise, 
at  the  least  terrifying  appearance,  they  start 
from  their  seats,  they  mount  the  skies,  and 
are  gone  in  an  instant,  are  gone  for  ever. 
Would  you  choose  to  have  a  happiness 
which  bears  date  with  their  arrival,  and  ex- 
pires at  their  departure?  If  you  could  not 
be  content  with  a  portion,  enjoyable  only 
through  such  a  fortuitous  term,  not  of  years, 
but  of  moments,  O  !  take  up  with  nothing 
earthly ;  set  your  affections  on  things  above  ; 
there  alone  is  "  no  variableness  or  shadow 
of  turning." 

Job  is  not  a  more  illustrious  pattern  of 
patience,  than  an  eminent  exemplification 
of  this  remark.  View  him  in  his  private 
estate.  He  heaps  up  silver  as  the  dust  ; 
he  washes  his  steps  in  butter  ;  and  the  rocks 
pour  him  out  rivers  of  oil.  View  him  in 
bis  public  character :  Princes  revere  his 
dignity ;  the  aged  listen  to  his  wisdom  ; 
every  eye  beholds  him  with  delight ;  every 
tongue  loads  him  with  blessings.  View  him 
in  his  domestic  circumstances  :  On  one 
hand,  he  is  defended  by  a  troop  of  sons  ; 
on  the  other,  adorned  with  a  train  of  daugh- 
ters ;  and  on  all  sides  surrounded  by  "  a  very 
great  household."  Never  was  human  feli- 
city so  consummate ;  never  was  disastrous 
revolution  so  sudden.  The  lightning  which 
consumed  his  cattle  was  not  more  terrible, 
and  scarce  more  instantaneous;  the  joyful 
parent  is  bereft  of  his  offspring,  and  his 
children  are  buried  in  death.  The  man  of 
affluence  is  stript  of  his  abundance  ;  and  he 
who  was  clothed  in  scarlet,  embraces  the 
dunghill.  The  venerable  patriarch  is  the 
derision  of  scoundrels  ;  and  the  late  darling 
of  an  indulgent  providence,  is  become  "  a 
brother  to  dragons,  a  companion  of  owls." 
Nor  need  we  go  back  to  former  ages  for 
proofs  of  this  afflicting  truth.  In  our  times, 
in  all  times,  llie  wheel  continues  the  same 
idf-essant  whirl ;    nnd  frequently  those  who 


arc  triumphing  to-day  in  the  hi^-Iie.'Sl  dela- 
tions of  joy,  to-morrow  are  bemoaning  tbe 
instability  of  mortal  affiiirs  in  tlie  very 
dejtths  of  misery  •  Amid  ho  nuiili  iliictua- 
tion  and  uncertainty,  how  wretched  is  the 
condition  which  has  no  anchor  of  the  soul, 
sure  and  steadfast !  May  thy  loving  kindness, 
O  God,  be  our  present  treasure  ;  and  thy 
future  glory  our  reversionary  inheritance  ! 
Then  shall  our  happiness  not  be  like  the 
full-orbed  moon,  which  is  "  a  light  that  de- 
creaseth  in  its  pei'fection  ;"  but  like  the  sun, 
when  he  goeth  forth  in  his  strength,  and 
knoweth  no  other  change,  but  that  of  shin- 
ing more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 

iVIethinks,  in  this  ever  varying  sphere,  I 
see  a  representation  not  only  of  our  tempor- 
al advantages,  but  also  of  our  spiritual  ac- 
complishments. Such,  I  am  sure,  is  what 
the  kind  partiality  of  a  friend  would  call  my 
righteousness  ;  and  such,  I  am  apt  to  sus- 
pect,f  is  the  righteousness  of  every  man 
living.  Now  we  exercise  it  in  some  few 
instances,  in  some  little  degrees  :  anon,  sin 
revives,  and  leads  our  souls  into  a  transient 
though  unwilling  captivity.  Now  we  are 
meek  ;  but  .soon  a  ruffling  accident  inter- 
venes, and  turns  our  composure  into  a  fret- 
ful disquietude.  Now  we  are  humble  ; 
soon  we  reflect  upon  some  inconsiderable  or 


*  I  believe  I  may  venture  to  apply  what  the  Te- 
manite  says  of  the  affairs  of  the  wickeQ  to  all  sublun- 
ary things,  as  a  true  description  of  thsir  very  great 
instability.  Job  xxii-  16.  rendered  by  Schultens, 
' '  Fltimen  fusuin  fundamci^tiim  eor  tan."  Their  foun- 
dation, (or  what  they  reckon  their  most  solid  and  sta- 
ble possession)  is  a  flood  poured  out  :  which  is  one  of 
the  boldest  images,  and  most  poetical  beauties  I  ever 
met  with  in  any  language  sacred  or  profane.  In  order 
to  have  a  tolerable  conception  of  the  image,  and  a 
taste  of  its  beauty,  you  nmst  suppose  a  torrent  of  wa- 
ters, rushing  in  broken  cataracts,  and  with  impetuous 
rapidity,  from  a  steep  and  craggy  moimtain.  '1  hen 
imagine  to  yourself  an  edifice  built  upon  the  surge  of 
tliis  rolling  precipice,  which  has  no  other  basis  than 
one  of  those  headlong  whirling  waves  Was  there 
ever  such  a  representation  of  transitory  prosperity, 
tending  with  inconceivable  swiftness,  unto  ruin?  Yet 
such  is  every  form  of  human  felicity,  that  is  not 
grounded  on  Jesus,  and  a  participation  of  his  merits, 
who  is  the  Rock  of  ages ;  on  Jesus,  and  his  image 
formed  in  our  hearts,  which  is  the  hope  of  glory. 

t  I  would  not  be  understood  as  measuring  in  this 
respect,  others  by  myself;  but  as  taking  my  estimate 
from  the  unerring  stanrlard  of  Scripture.  And  in- 
deed, proceeding  on  this  evidence,  supported  by  this 
authority,  I  might  have  ventured  farther  than  a  bare 
suspicion.  For  "  there  is  not  a  just  man  upon  earth, 
that  doeth  good,  and  sinneth  not,"  says  the  Spirit  of 
inspiration  Dy  Solomon  (Eccles.  yii.  20.)  Nay,  such 
is  the  purity,  and  so  extensive  are  the  demands  of 
the  divine  law,  that  an  apostle  makes  a  still  more 
humbling  acknowledgment;  "  In  many  things  we 
offend  all."  (James  iii.  2.)  And  the  unerrmg  teacher, 
who  most  thoroughly  knew  our  frame,  directs 
the  most  advanced,  most  established,  and  most 
watchful  Christians,  to  pray  daily  for  the  forgiveness 
of  their  daily  trespasses. — To  which  testimonies,  I 
beg  leave  to  add  an  elegant  passage  from  the  Can- 
ticles; because  it  not  only  expresses  the  sentiment 
of  this  paragraph,  but  illustrates  it  by  the  very  same 
similitude.  She  (the  church)  is  fair  as  the  moon  ; 
clear  as  the  sun.  Fair  as  the  moon,  the  lesser  and 
changeable  light,  in  her  sanctification  ;  clear  .is  the 
sun,  the  greater  and  invariable  luminary  in  her  justi- 
fication. The  inherent  holiness  of  believers  being 
imperfect,  and  subject  to  many  inequalities;  while 
their  imputed  righteouMiesj  is  every  way  eomplettt, 
and  eonstantly  like  itself.    Cant.  vi.  19. 


ON  THE  NKi^T. 


n;^ 


imaginary  superioiiiy  over  others,  and  a  sud- 
den elatement  bwells  our  minds.  ISow, 
perhaps,  we  possess  a  clean  lieart,  and  are 
v\arm  with  holy  love  ;  hut,  O  !  how  easily 
is  the  purity  ot'  our  affections  sullied  !  how 
soon  the  fervour  of  our  gratitude  cooled  ! 
And  is  there  not  somethinj^  amiss  even  in 
our  best  moments  ?  Something  to  be  asham- 
ed of  in  all  we  are,  something  to  be  repent- 
ed of  in  all  we  do  ? 

With  what  gladness,  therefore,  and  ador- 
ing thankfulness,  should  we  submit  to  the 
righteousness  of  "  our  incarnate  God  ;" 
and  receive  as  a  divine  gift,  what  cannot  be 
acquired  by  human  works!  (Rom.  v.  17, 
— X.  3.)  A  writer  of  the  first  distinction, 
and  nicest  discernment,  styles  the  obedience 
of  our  glorious  Surety,  an  everlasting  righte- 
ousness, (Dan.  ix.  24.)  such  as  was  sub- 
ject to  no  interruption,  nor  obscured  by  the 
least  bleniisli,  but  preceded  always  in  the 
same  uniform  tenor  of  the  most  spotless 
perfection.  This  righteousness,  in  another 
sense,  answers  the  prophet's  exalted  de- 
scription ;  as  its  beneficial  and  sovereign 
efficacy  knows  no  end,  but  lasts  through  all 
our  life  ;  lasts  in  the  trying  hour  of  death  ; 
lasts  at  the  decisive  day  of  judgment ;  lasts 
through  every  generation  ;  and  will  last  to 
all  eternity. 

Sometimes  I  have  seen  that  resplendent 
globe  stript  of  her  radiance  ;  or,  according 
to  the  emphatical  language  of  Scripture, 
"  turned  into  blood."  The  earth,  interpos- 
ing with  its  opaque  body,  intercepted  the 
solar  rays,  and  cast  its  gloomy  shadow  on 
the  moon.  The  malignant  intluence  gained 
upon  her  sickening  orb,  extinguished  more 
and  more  the  feeble  remainders  of  light,  till, 
at  length,  like  one  in  a  deep  swoon,  no  come- 
liness was  left  in  her  countenance — she  was 
totally  overspread  with  darkness.  At  this 
juncture,  what  a  multitude  of  eyes  were 
gazing  upon  the  ruefid  spectacle  !  even  of 
those  eyes  which  disregarded  the  empress  of 
the  night,  or  beheld  her  with  indifference, 
when,  robed  in  glory,  and  riding  in  her 
triumphal  chariot,  she  shed  a  softer  day 
through  the  nations.  But  now,  under  these 
circumstances  of  disgrace,  they  watch  her 
motions  with  the  most  prying  attention.  In 
every  place  her  misfortune  is  the  object  of 
general  observation,  and  the  prevailing  to- 
pic of  discourse  in  every  company. 

Is  it  not  thus  with  regard  to  ])ersons  of 
eminence  in  their  respective  spheres?  Kings 
at  the  head  of  their  subjects  ;  nobles  sur- 
rounded with  their  d('|)endants  ;  and  (after 
names  of  so  much  grandeur,  may  I  be  al- 
lowed to  add?)  ministers  labouring  among 
their  people,*  are  each  in  a  conspicuous  sta- 
tion.     Tlieir  conduct  in  its  minutest  step. 


•  '•  Nc  are  the  liRlit  i 
on  a  Mili  laiiiioi  be  hi<l.' 


f  the  world.   A  city  that  is  set 
Matl.  V.  U. 


especially  in  any  miscarriage,  will  be  nar- 
rowly surveyed,  and  critically  scanned.  Can 
there  be  a  louder  call  to  ponder  the  paths 
of  their  feet,  and  to  be  particularly  jealous 
over  all  their  ways  ?  Those  who  move  in  in- 
ferior life  may  grossly  offend,  and  little 
alarm  be  given,  perhaps  no  notice  taken. 
But  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  the  least 
slip  in  their  carriage,  the  least  flaw  in  their 
character  will  pass  undiscovered.  Malice, 
with  her  eagle-eyes,  will  be  sure  to  discern 
them,  while  Censure,  with  her  shrill  trum- 
pet, will  be  as  far  from  concealing  them,  as 
Calumny,  with  her  treacherous  whispers, 
from  extenuating  them.  A  planet  may 
sink  below  the  horizon,  or  a  star  for  several 
months  withdraw  its  shining  :  and  scarce 
one  in  ten  thousand  perceive  the  loss  ;  but 
if  the  moon  suffers  a  transient  eclipse,  al- 
most half  the  world  are  spectators  of  her 
dishonour. 

Very  different  was  the  case,  when  at  this 
late  hour,  I  have  taken  a  solitary  walk  on 
the  western  cliffs.  At  the  foot  of  the  steep 
mountain,  the  sea,  all  clear  and  smooth, 
spread  itself  into  an  immense  plain,  and 
held  a  watery  mirror  to  the  skies.  Infinite 
heights  above  the  firmament  stretched  its 
azure  expanse,  bespangled  with  unnumbered 
stars,  and  adorned  with  the  moon  "  walking 
in  brightness."  (Job  xxxi.  26.)  She  seem- 
ed to  contemplate  herself  with  a  peculiar 
jtleasure,  while  the  transparent  surface  both 
received  and  returned  her  silver  image. 
Here,  instead  of  being  covered  with  sack- 
cloth, she  shone  with  double  lustre  ;  or  ra- 
ther, witli  a  lustre  multiplied,  in  proportion 
to  the  number  of  beholders,  and  their  various 
situations. 

Such,  metliinks,  is  the  effect  of  an  ex- 
emplary behaviotir  in  persons  of  exalted 
rank.  Their  course,  as  it  is  nobly  distin- 
guished, so  it  will  be  happily  influential  ; 
others  will  catch  the  diffusive  ray,  and  be 
ambitious  to  resemble  a  pattern  so  attract- 
ing, so  commanding.  Their  amiable  quali- 
ties will  not  terminate  in  themselves,  but 
we  shall  see  them  reflected  from  their  fami- 
lies, their  acquaintance,  their  retainers. 
Just  as  we  may  now  behold  another  moon, 
trembling*  in  the  stream,  glittering  in  the 
canal,  and  displaying  its  lovely  impress  on 
every  collection  of  waters. 

The  moon,  philosophy  says,  is  a  sort  of 
sovereign  over  the  great  deep.  Her  orb, 
like  a  royal  sceptre,  sways  the  ocean,  and 
actuates  the  fluid  realms.  It  swells  the 
tides,  and  perpetuates  the  reciprocal  returns 
of  ebb  and  flow,  by  which  means  the  liquid 
element  purges  oft'  its  filth,  and  is  preserved 
from  being  j)utrefied  itself,  and  from  poison- 
ing the  world.  Is  the  moon  thus  operative 
on  the  vast  abyss  ?    and  shall  not  the  faith 

•  .Splendet  lii-niulo  sub  Iviiuiue  poiUus. 


94. 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


of  eternal  and  infinite  delights  to  come,  be 
equally  efficacious  on  this  soul  of  mine?  Far 
above  her  argent  fields  are  treasures  of  hap- 
piness, unseen  by  mortal  eye,  by  mortal  ear 
unheard,  and  unconceived  by  any  human  ima- 
gination. In  that  desirable  world,  the  most 
distinguished  and  exalted  honours  also  are 
conferred ;  in  comparison  with  which  the 
thrones  and  diadems  of  earthly  monarchs 
arc  empty  pageants,  and  childish  toys. 
Yonder  arch  of  sapphire,  with  all  its  span- 
gles of  gold,  is  but  the  lloor  of  those  divine 
abodes.  What  then  are  the  apartments  ? 
what  is  the  palace  ?  How  bright  M'ith  glo- 
ries !  how  rich  with  bliss  ! 

O  !  ye  mansions  of  blessedness ;  ye  beau- 
ties of  my  Father's  kingdom,  which  far  out- 
shine the  lamps  of  the  visible  heaven,  trans- 
mit your  sweet  and  winning  invitations  to 
my  heart.  Attract  and  refine  all  my  affec- 
tions. Withdraw  them  from  stagnating  on 
the  sordid  shores  of  flesh ;  never  suffer  them 
to  settle  upon  the  impure  lees  of  sense ;  but 
impress  them  with  emotions  of  restless  de- 
sire after  sublime  and  celestial  joys, — joys, 
that  will  proceed,  still  proceed,  in  a  copious 
and  everlasting  flow,  when  seas  shall  cease 
to  roll, — joys,  that  wiU  charm  every  faculty 
with  unimaginable  pleasure,  when  the  moon, 
with  her  waxing  splendours,  shall  cheer  our 
sight  no  more. 

Enough  for  the  present  evening.  My 
thoughts  have  been  sufficiently  exercised, 
and  my  steps  begin  to  be  attended  with 
weariness.  Let  me  obey  the  admonition  of 
nature,  and  give  respite  to  my  meditations, 
slumber  to  my  eyes.  But  stay — Shall  I 
retire  to  the  bed  of  sleep,  with  as  little 
ceremony,  and  with  as  much  inattention, 
as  the  brutes  to  their  sordid  lair  ?  Are  no 
acknowledgments  due  to  that  divine  Being 
who  is  the  support  of  my  life,  and  the  length 
of  my  days?  Have  I  no  farther  need  of  his 
protecting  care  ;  no  more  occasion  for  the 
blessings  of  his  goodness  ?  Lepidus  per- 
haps may  laugh  at  the  bended  knee,  and 
have  a  thousand  darts  of  raillery  ready  to 
discharge  on  the  practice  of  devotion.  The 
wits,  I  know,  are  unmercifully  severe  on  j 
what  they  call  the  diudgery  of  prayer,  and 
the  fantastical  rant  of  praise.  These  they 
leave  to  the  illiterate  labourer,  and  the  mean 
mechanic  ;  or  treat  them  with  a  contemp- 
tuous sneer,  as  the  parson's  ignoble  trade. 

Is  it  then  an  instance  of  superstitious 
blindness  to  distinguish,  or  of  whimsical 
zeal  to  celebrate,  the  most  sujiereminent  ex- 
cellency and  merit?  Is  it  an  ungraceful 
business,  or  does  it  argue  a  grovelling  dis- 
position, to  magnify  goodness  transcendent- 
ly  rich  and  diffusive  ?  What  can  be  so  truly 
becoming  a  dependant  state,  as  to  pay  our 
adoring  homage  to  the  Author  of  all  per- 
fection ?  and  profess  our  devoted  allegiance 
to  the  supreme  Almighty   Governor  of  the 


universe  ?  Can  any  thing  more  significantly 
bespeak  an  ingenuous  temper,  or  administer 
a  more  real  satisfaction  to  its  finest  feelings, 
than  the  exercises  of  penitential  devotion,  by 
which  we  give  vent  to  an  honest  anguish,  or 
melt  into  filial  sorrow,  for  our  insensibility 
to  the  best  of  friends,  for  our  disobedience 
to  the  best  of  parents  ?  In  a  word,  can 
there  be  a  more  sublime  pleasure,  than  to 
dwell  in  fixed  contemplation  on  the  beau- 
ties of  the  eternal  mind  ;  the  amiable  ori- 
ginal of  all  that  is  fair,  grand,  and  harmoni- 
ous ;  the  beneficent  giver  of  all  that  is  con- 
venient, comfortable,  and  usefid  ?  Can 
there  be  a  more  advantageous  employ,  than 
to  present  our  requests  to  the  Father  of 
mercies  ;  opemng  our  minds  to  the  irradia- 
tions of  his  wisdom,  and  all  the  faculties  of 
our  souls  to  the  communications  of  his 
grace  ?  It  is  strange,  imaccountably  strange, 
that  the  notion  of  dignity  in  sentiment,  and 
the  piu-suit  of  refined  enjoyment,  should 
ever  be  disunited  from  devotion  ;  that  per- 
sons who  make  pretensions  to  an  improved 
taste,  and  exalted  genius,  should  neglect  this 
most  ennobling  intercourse  with  the  \visest 
and  best  of  beings,  the  inexhaustible  source 
of  honour  and joy. 

Shall  I  be  deterred  from  approaching  this 
source  of  the  purest  delight  ?  deterred  from 
pursuing  this  highest  improvement  of  my 
nature  ?  deterred  from  all  by  a  formidable 
banter,  or  confuted  by  one  irrefragable 
smile?  No:  let  the  moon  in  her  resplen- 
dent sphere,  and  yonder  pole  with  all  its 
starry  train,  witness  if  I  be  silent  even  or 
morn ;  if  I  refrain  to  kindle  in  my  heart, 
and  breathe  from  my  lips,  the  reasonable 
incense  of  praise  ;  praise  to  that  great  and 
glorious  God  who  formed  the  earth  and 
built  the  skies,  wlio  poured  from  his  hand 
the  watery  world,  and  shed  the  all-sur- 
rounding air  abroad.  "  Thou  also  madest 
the  night.  Maker  omnipotent !  and  thou 
the  day ;  which  I,  though  less  than  the 
least  of  all  thy  mercies,  have  passed  in 
safety,  tranquillity,  and  comfort.  When  I 
was  lost  in  the  extravagance  of  dreams,  or 
lay  immersed  in  the  insensibility  of  sleep, 
thy  hand  recovered  me  from  the  temporary 
lethargy  ;  thy  hand  set  a  new,  a  delicately 
fine  edge,  on  all  my  blunted  senses,  and 
strung  my  sinews  with  recruited  vigour. 
When  my  thoughts  were  benumbed  and 
stupified,  thy  quickening  influence  roused 
them  into  activity  :  when  they  weve  discon- 
certed and  wild,  thy  regulating  influence 
reduced  them  into  order  ;  refitting  me  at 
once  to  relish  the  innocent  entertainments 
of  an  animal,  and  to  enjoy  the  sublime  gra- 
tifications of  a  rational  capacity.  When 
darkness  covered  the  creation,  at  thy  com- 
mand the  sun  arose,  painted  the  flowers, 
and  distinguished  every  object ;  gave  light 
to  my  feet,  and  gave  nature  with  all  her 


ON  THE  NIGHT. 


95 


beautiful  scenes  to  my  eye.  To  thee,  O 
thou  God  of  my  strength,  I  owe  the  con- 
tinuance of  my  being,  and  the  vivacity  of 
my  constitution.  By  thy  sacred  order,  with- 
out any  consciousness  of  mine,  the  wheels 
of  life  move,  and  the  crimson  fountain  plays. 
OveiTuled  by  thy  exquisite  skill,  it  trans- 
forms itself,  by  the  nicest  operations  of  an 
inexplicable  kind  of  chemistry,  into  a  variety 
of  the  finest  secretions,  which  glide  into 
the  muscles,  and  swell  them  for  action,  or 
])Our  themselves  into  the  fluids,  and  repair 
their  incessant  decays  ;  which  cause  cheer- 
fulness to  sparkle  in  the  eye,  and  health  to 
bloom  ill  the  cheek. 

"  Disastrous  accidents,  injurious  to  the 
peace  of  my  mind,  or  fatal  to  the  welfare 
of  my  body,  beset  my  paths.  But  thy 
faithfulness  and  truth,  like  an  impenetrable 
shield,  guarded  me  all  around.  Under  this 
divine  protection,  I  walked  secure  amidst 
legions  of  apparent  perils  ;  and  jiassed  un- 
hurt through  a  far  greater  muLiplicity  of 
unseen  evils.  Not  one  of  my  bones  was 
broken  ;  not  a  single  shaft  grazed  upon  my 
ease  ;  even  when  the  eye  that  watched  over 
me,  saw,  in  its  wide  survey,  thousands  fall- 
ing beside  me  in  irrecoverable  ruin,  and  ten 
thousands  deeply  wounded  on  my  right 
hand.  If  sickness  has  at  any  time  saddened 
my  chamber,  or  pain  harrowed  my  flesh,  it 
was  a  wholesome  discipline,  and  a  gracious 
severity.  The  chastisement  proved  a  so- 
vereign medicine  to  cure  me  of  an  immode- 
rate fondness  for  this  imperfect  trouble- 
some state,  and  to  quicken  my  desires  after 
the  unembittered  enjoyments  of  my  eternal 
home.  Has  not  thy  munificence,  unwearied 
and  unbounded,  s})read  my  table,  furnished 
it  with  the  finest  wheat,  and  rej>lenished  it 
with  marrow  and  fatness  :  while  temper- 
ance sweetened  the  bowl,  appetite  seasoned 
the  dish,  contentment  and  gratitude  crown- 
ed the  repast?  Has  not  thy  kindness,  O 
God  of  the  family  of  Israel,  preserved  my 
affectionate  relations,  who  study  by  their 
tender  offices  to  soften  every  care,  and 
heighten  every  joy  ?  Has  not  thy  kindness 
given  me  valuable  friends,  whose  presence 
is  a  cordial  to  cheer  me  in  a  dejected  hour, 
and  whose  conversation  mingles  im])rove- 
ment  with  delight  ? 

"  When  sin  lay  disguised  amidst  flowery 
.scenes  of  pleasure  ;  enlightened  by  thy  wis- 
dom, I  discerned  the  latent  mischief ;  made 
resolute  by  thy  grace,  I  shunned  the  lusci- 
ous bjne.  If,  tliioiigh  the  impulse  of  sen- 
suality, or  the  violence  of  passion,  I  have 
been  hurried  into  the  snare,  and  stung  by 
the  serpent ;  thy  faithful  admonitions  have 
recalled  the  foolish  wanderer,  while  the 
blood    of  thy   Son   has  healed    his  deadly 


wounds.  Some,  no  doubt,  have  been  cut 
off  in  the  midst  of  their  iniquities,  and 
transmitted  from  the  thrillings  of  polluted 
joy  to  the  agonies  of  eternal  despair  ; 
whereas  I  have  been  distinguished  by  long- 
suffering  mercy  ;  and,  instead  of  lifting  up 
my  eyes  in  torments,  to  behold  a  heaven  ir- 
recoverably lost,  I  may  lift  them  up  under 
the  pleasing  views  of  being  admitted,  ere 
long,  into  those  abodes  of  endless  felicity. 
In  the  mean  time,  thou  hast  vouchsafed  me 
the  revelation  of  thy  will,  the  influences  of 
thy  Spirit,  and  abundance  of  the  most  ef- 
fectual aids,  for  advancing  in  knowledge, 
and  growing  in  godliness  ;  for  becoming 
more  conformable  to  thy  image,  and  more 
meet  for  thy  presence  ;  for  tasting  the  plea- 
sures of  religion,  and  securing  the  riches  of 
eternity. 

"  How  various  is  thy  beneficence,  O  thou 
lover  of  souls  !  It  has  unsealed  a  thousand 
sources  of  good ;  opened  a  thousand  ave- 
nues of  delight ;  and  heaped  blessings  upon 
me  with  a  ceaseless  liberality.  If  1  should 
attempt  to  declare  them,  they  would  be 
more  than  the  starry  host  which  glitter  m 
this  unclouded  sky  ;  more  than  the  dewy 
gems,  which  will  adorn  the  face  of  the 
morning. 

"  And,  shall  I  forget  the  God  of  my  sal- 
vation, the  author  of  all  my  mercies  !  Haiher 
let  my  pulse  forget  to  beat.  Shall  I  render 
him  no  expressions  of  thankfulness  ?  Then 
might  all  nature  reproach  my  ingratitude. 
Shall  I  rest  satisfied  with  the  bare  acknow- 
ledgment of  my  lips  ?  No  ;  let  my  life  be 
vocal,  and  speak  his  praise,  in  that  only  ge- 
nuine, that  most  emjjhatical  language,  the 
language  of  devout  obedience.  Let  the 
bill  be  diawn  upon  my  very  heart;  let  all 
my  affections  acknowledge  the  drauglit ,  and 
let  the  whole  tenor  of  my  actions,  in  time 
iu\d  through  eternity,  be  continually  paying 
the  debt,  the  ever- pleasing,  ever-growing 
debt  of  duty,  veneration,  and  love. 

"  And  can  I,  O  thou  guide  of  my  goings, 
and  guardian  of  all  my  interests,  can  I  dis- 
trust such  signal,  such  experienced  good- 
ness ?  'Jliou  hast  been  my  helper  through 
all  the  busy  scenes  of  d;iy  ;  therefore  under 
the  shadow  of  thy  wings  will  I  rejjose  my- 
self, during  the  darkness,  the  danger,  and 
death-like  inactivity  of  the  night-.  \Vi)ut- 
ever  defilement  I  liave  contracted,  wash  it 
thoroughly  away  in  redeeming  blood  ;  and 
let  neither  tlie  sinful  stain,  nor  tlie  sinful 
inclination,  ac-comi)any  mc  to  my  couch. 
Then  shall  I  liiy  me  down  in  peace,  and 
take  my  rest ;  chcert'ully  referring  it  to  thy 
all-wise  determination,  wlieihcr  I  shall  open 
my  eyes  in  this  world,  or  awake  in  the  im- 
,  known  regions  of  another. 


CONTKMPLATIONS 


THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


This  evening,  I  exchange  the  nice  retreats 
of  art,  for  the  noble  theatre  of  nature.  In- 
stead of  measuring  my  steps,  under  the  ro- 
vert  of  an  arbour,  let  me  range  along  the 
summit  of  this  gently  rising  hill.  There 
is  no  need  of  the  leafy  shade,  since  the  sun 
has  quitted  the  horizon,  and  withdrawn  bis 
scorching  beams.  But  see  how  advanta- 
ges and  inconveniences  are  usually  linked, 
and  chequer  our  affairs  below  !  If  the  an- 
noying heat  ceases,  the  landscape  and  its 
pleasing  scenes  are  also  removed.  The  ma- 
jestic castle  and  the  lowly  cottage  are  van- 
ished together.  I  have  lost  the  aspiring 
mountain,  and  its  russet  brow  ;  I  look  round 
but  to  no  purpose,  for  the  humble  vale,  and 
its  flowery  lap.  The  plains  whitened  with 
flocks,  and  the  heath  yellow  \vith  furze,  dis- 
appear. The  advancing  night  has  wrapt  in 
darkness  the  long  extended  forest,  and 
drawn  her  mantle  over  the  windings  of  the 
silver  stream.  I  no  longer  behold  that  lux- 
uriant fertility  in  the  fields,  that  wild  magni- 
ficence of  prospect,  and  endless  variety  of 
images,  wliich  have  so  often  touched  me 
with  delight,  and  struck  me  with  awe,  from 
this  commanding  eminence. 

The  loss,  however,  is  scarcely  to  be  re- 
gretted ;  since  it  is  amply  compensated  by 
the  opening  beauties  of  the  sky.  Here  I 
enjoy  a  free  view  of  the  whole  hemisphere, 
without  any  obstacle  from  below  to  confine 
the  exploring  eye,  or  any  cloud  from  above, 
to  overcast  the  spacious  concave.  It 
true,  the  lively  vermillion,  which  so  lately 
streaked  the  chambers  of  the  west,  is  all 
faded  ?  But  the  planets,  one  after  another, 
light  up  their  lamps  ;  the  stars  advance  in 
the',  glittering  train  ;  a  thousand  and  a  thou- 
^jid  luminaries  shine  forth  in  successive 
splendours  ;  and  the  whole  firmament  is 
kindling  into  the  most  beautifid  glow.  The 
blueness  of  the  ether,  heightened  by  the  sea- 
son of  the  year,  and  still  more  enlivened  by 


the  absence  of  the  moon,  gives  those  gems 
of  heaven  the  strongest  lustre. 

One  pleasure  more  the  invading  gloom 
has  not  been  able  to  snatch  from  my  sense. 
The  night  rather  improves  than  destroys 
the  fragrance  which  exales  from  the  bloom- 

beans  With  these  the  sides  of  this 
slopping  declivity  are  lined  ;  and  with  these 
the  balmy  zephyrs  perfume  their  wings. 
Does  Arabia,  from  all  her  spicy  groves, 
breathe  a  more  liberal,  or  a  more  charming 
gale  of  sweets  ?  And,  what  is  a  peculiar  re- 
commendation of  the  rural  entertainments 
presented  in  our  hajjpy  land,  they  are  alloy- 
ed by  no  apprehensions  of  danger.  No 
poisonous  serpent  links  under  the  blossom  ; 
nor  any  ravenous  beast  lies  ready  to  start 
from  the  thicket.  But  I  wander  from  a 
far  more  exalted  subject.  My  thoughts, 
like  my  aflfections,  are  too  easily  diverted 
from  the  heavens,  and  detained  by  inferior 
objects.  Away,  my  attention  !  from  these 
little  blandishments  of  the  earth  ;  since  all 
the  glories  of  the  sky  invite  thy  regard. 

We  have  tiiken  a  turn  among  the  tombs, 
and  viewed  the  solemn  memorials  of  the 
dead,  in  order  to  learn  the  vanity  of  moital 
things,  and  to  break  their  soft  enchantment. 
We  have  surveyed  the  ornaments  of  the 
garden  ;  not  that  the  heart  might  be  planted 
in  the  parterre,  or  take  root  among  the 
flowery  race  ;  but  that  these  delicacies  of 
a  day  might  teach  us  to  aspire  after  a  better 
paradise,  where  beauty  never  fades,  and  de- 
light is  ever  in  the  bloom.  A  third  time 
we  lighted  the  candle  of  meditation  ;  and 
sought  for  msdom,  not  in  the  crowded  city 
or  wrangling  schools,  but  in  the  silent  and 
lonely  walks  of  ancient  Night.  •  Let  us 
once  more  indulge  the  contemplative  vein, 
and  raise  oiu*  speculations  to  those  sublimei 


I     •  RefeiTi  ng  to  the  several  subjecU  of  the  three  pr* 
'ceiling  essays. 


ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


9? 


works  of  the  great  Creator  which  the  re- 
gions of  the  sky  contain,  and  the  dusky 
hour  unveils.* 

If  we  have  discenied  the  touches  of  his 
pencil  glowing  in  the  colours  of  spring,  if 
we  have  seen  a  sample  of  his  beneficence 
exhibited  in  the  stores  of  natiu-e,  and  a  ray 
of  his  brightness  beaming  in  the  blaze  of 
day  ;  what  an  infinitely  richer  field  for  the 
display  of  his  perfections  are  the  heavens  ! 
The  heavens,  in  the  most  emphatical  man- 
ner, declare  the  glory  of  God.  The  hea- 
vens are  nobly  eloquent  of  the  Deity,  and 
the  most  magnificent  heralds  of  their  Ma- 
ker's praise.  They  speak  to  the  whole  uni- 
verse ;  for  there  is  neither  speech  so  bar- 
barous, but  their  language  is  understood ; 
nor  nation  so  distant,  but  their  voices  are 
heard  among  them.  (Psalm  xix.  2.)  Let 
me,  then,  in  this  solemn  season,  formed  for 
thought,  and  a  calm  intercourse  with  hea- 
ven, let  me  listen  to  their  silent  lectures. 
Perhaps  I  may  receive  such  impressive 
manifestations  of  "  the  eternal  power  and 
Godhead,"  as  may  shed  religion  on  my  soul 
while  I  walk  the  solitary  shades,  and  may 
be  a  tutelary  friend  to  my  virtue,  when  the 
call  of  business  and  the  return  of  light  ex- 
pose me  again  to  the  inroads  of  temptation. 

The  Israelites,  instigated  by  frenzy  rather 
than  devotion,  worshipped  the  host  of  hea- 
ven. And  the  pretenders  to  judicial  astro- 
logy talk  of  I  know  not  what  mysterious 
efficacy  in  the  diiFerent  aspect  of  the  stjus, 
or  the  various  conjunction  and  opposition 
of  the  planets.  Let  those  who  are  un- 
acquainted  with  the  sure  word  of  revelation, 
give  ear  to  these  sons  of  delusion,  and 
dealers  in  deceit.  For  my  part,  it  is  a 
question  of  indiflerence  to  me,  whether  the 
constellations  shone  with  smiles,  or  lowered 
in  frowns,  on  the  hour  of  my  nativity.  Let 
Christ  be  my  guard  ;  and,  secure  in  such  a 
protection,  I  would  laugh  at  their  impotent 
menaces.  Let  Christ  be  my  guide  ;  and  I 
shall  scorn  to  ask  as  well  as  despair  of  re- 
ceiving, any  predictory  information  from 
such  senseless  masses.  What !  shall  "  the 
living  seek  to  the  dead  ?"  (Isaiah  viii.  19.) 
Can  these  bodies  advertise  me  of  future 
events,  which  are  unconscious  of  their  own 
existence?  Shall  I  have  recourse  to  dull 
unintelligent  matter,  when  I  may  apply  to 
that  all-wise  being,  who  with  one  compre- 
hensive glance  distinctly  views  whatever 
is  lodged  in  the  bosom  of  immensity,  or 
forming  in  the  womb  of  futurity  ?  Never, 
never  will  I  search  for  any  intimations  of 
my  fate,  but  often  trace  my  Creator's  fbot- 


•  Night  opes  the  noblest  scenes,  and  sheth  hu  awe, 
Whirli  give  those  venerable  scenes  fuil  weight, 
And  deep  reception  in  th'  tnteiider'd  heart. 

A'/i'/ir  TfwusMs,  No.  IX. 


steps*  in  yonder  starry  plains.  In  the  for- 
mer case,  they  would  be  teachers  of  lies  ; 
in  the  latter,  they  are  oracles  of  truth.  In 
this,  therefore,  this  sense  only,  I  profess 
myself  the  pupil  of  the  stars. 

The  vulgar  are  apprehensive  of  nothing 
more  than  a  multitude  of  bright  spangles 
dropt  over  the  etherial  blue.  They  have 
no  higher  notion  of  these  fine  appearances, 
than  that  they  are  so  many  golden  studs  with 
which  the  empyrean  arch  is  decorated.  But 
studious  minds,  that  carry  a  more  accurate 
and  strict  inquiry  among  the  celestial  bo- 
dies, bring  back  advices  of  a  most  astonish- 
ing import.  Let  me  just  recollect  the  most 
material  of  those  stupendous  discoveries,  in 
order  to  furnish  out  proper  subjects  for  con- 
templation. And  let  the  unlearned  remem- 
ber, that  the  scene  I  am  going  to  display,  is 
the  workmanship  of  that  incomprehensible 
God,  who  is  "  perfect  in  knowledge  and 
mighty  in  power  ;"  whose  name,  whose  na- 
ture, and  all  whose  operations  arc  "  great 
and  marvellous ;''  who  smnmons  into  being 
v.'ith  equal  ea»e,  a  single  grain,  or  ten  thou- 
sand worlds.  To  this  if  we  continually  ad- 
vert, the  assertions,  though  they  will  cer- 
tainly excite  our  admiration,  need  not  tran- 
scend our  belief. 

The  earth  is,  in  fact,  a  round  body,  how- 
ever it  may  seem  in  some  parts  to  be  sunk 
into  vales,  and  raised  into  hills  ;f  in  other 
parts,  to  be  spread  into  a  spacious  plain,  ex- 
tending to  the  confines  of  the  heavens,  or 
terminated    by   the   waters   of    the    ocean. 


*  "  It  is  most  becoming"  (says  a  great  author) 
"  such  imperfect  creatures  as  we  are,  to  contemplate 
the  works  of  God  with  this  design,  that  we  may  dis- 
cern the  manifestations  of  wisdom  in  tliem  ;  and 
thereby  excite  in  ourselves  those  devout  affections, 
and  that  superlaliverespect,  which  is  the  very  essence 
of  praise,  as  it  is  a  reasonable  and  moral  service." 
Abernetliy  o>i  the  Attributes.  And,  indeed,  if  we  are 
sincerely  disposed  to  employ  ourselves  in  this  excel- 
lent, this  delightful  duty  of  praising  the  infinite  Cre- 
ator; the  means  and  the  motives  are  both  at  hand. 
His  works,  in  a  wonderful  and  instructive  variety, 
present  themselves  with  pregnant  manifestations  of 
the  most  transcendent  excellencies  of  their  Maker. 
They  pour  their  evidence  from  all  quarters,  and  into 
all  the  avenues-of  the  mind.  They  invite  us,  especi- 
ally in  the  magnificent  .system  of  the  universe,  to 
contemplate  counsel  consummately  wise,  and  execu- 
tion inimitably  perfect ;  power,  to  which  nothing  is 
impossible;  and  goodness,  which  extendeth  to  all, 
which  endureth  for  ever.  To  give,  not  a  full  display, 
but  only  some  slight  strictures  of  these  glorious 
truths,  is  the  principal  scope  of  the  following  re- 
marks. 

t  A  learned  writer,  I  think  Dr.  Derham,  has  some- 
where an  observation  to  this  purpose :  That  the  loft- 
iest summits  of  hills,  and  the  most  enormous  ridges 
of  mountains,  are  no  real  objections  to  (he  globular 
or  round  form  of  the  earth.  Bscause,  however  they 
may  render  it,  to  our  limited  sight,  vastly  uneven 
ancl  protuberant,  yet  they  bear  no  more  proportion 
to  the  entire  surface  of  the  ter. aqueous  ball,  than  a 
particle  of  dust,  casually  dropt  on  the  mathemati- 
cian's globe,  bears  to  its  whole  circumference.  Con- 
sequently, the  rotund  figure  is  no  more  destroyed  in 
the  r.jrmei  case  than  in  the  latter.  On  thesame  prin- 
ciple, I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  take  any  no- 
tice of  the  comparatively  small  ditl'erence  between 
the  polar  and  equatorial  diameter  of  the  earth. 


98 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


We  may  fancy  iliat  it  has  deep  foundations, 
and  rests  upon  some  prodigiously  solid  basis : 
But  it  is  pendent  in  the  wide  transpicuous 
ether,  without  any  visible  cause  to  uphold 
it  from  above,  or  support  it  from  beneath. 
It  may  seem  to  be  sedentary  in  its  attitude, 
and  motionless  in  its  situation  :  But  it  is 
continually  sailing*  through  the  depths  of 
the  sky  ;  and  in  the  space  of  twelve  months 
finishes  the  mighty  voyage.  Which  perio- 
dical rotation  produces  the  seasons  and  com- 
pletes the  year.  As  it  proceeds  in  the  an- 
nual circuit,  it  spins  upon  its  own  centre, 
and  turns  its  sides  alternately  to  the  foun- 
tain of  light.  By  which  means  the  day 
dawns  in  one  hemisphere,  while  the  night 
succeeds  in  the  other.  Without  this  expe- 
dient, one  part  of  its  regions  would,  during 
half  the  great  revolution,  be  scorched  with 
excessive  heat,  or  langiush  under  an  uninter- 
mitted  glare  ;  while  the  other,  exposed  to 
the  contrary  extremes,  would  be  frozen  to 
ice,  and  buried  under  a  long  oppression  of 
dismal  and  destructive  darknels. 

I  cannot  forbear  taking  notice,  that  in 
this  compound  motion  of  the  earth,  the  one 
never  interferes  with  the  other,  but  both 
are  perfectly  compatible.  Is  it  not  thus 
with  the  precepts  of  religion,  and  the  need- 
ful affairs  of  the  present  life  ;  not  excepting 
even  the  innocent  gratifications  of  our  appe- 
tites ?  Some,  I  believe,  are  apt  to  imagine, 
that  they  must  renounce  society,  if  they  de- 
vote themselves  to  Christ ;  and  abandon  all 
the  satisfactions  of  this  world,  if  they  once 
become  zealous  candidates  for  the  felicity 
of  another.  But  this  is  a  very  mistaken 
notion,  or  else  a  very  injurious  representa- 
tion of  the  doctrine  which  is  according  to 
godliness.  It  was  never  intended  to  drive 
men  into  deserts,  but  to  lead  them,  through 
the  peaceful  and  pleasant  paths  of  \visdom, 
into  the  blissfid  regions  of  life  eternal.  It 
was  never  intended  to  strike  off  the  wheels 
of  business,  or  cut  in  sunder  the  sinews  of 
industry ;  but  rather  to  make  men  indus- 
trious, from  a  principle  of  conscience,  not 
from  the  instigations  of  avarice  ;  that  so 
they  may  promote  their  immortal  happiness 
even  while  they  provide  for  their  temporal 
maintenance.  It  has  no  design  to  extirpate 
our  passions,  but  only  to  restrain  their  kre- 
gularities  ;  neither  would  it  extinguish  the 
delights  of  sense,  but  prevent  them  from 
evaporating  into  vanity,  and  subsiding  into 
gall.  A  person  may  be  cheerful  among  his 
friends,  and  yet  joyful  in  God.  He  may 
taste  the  sweets  of  his  earthly  estate,  and, 
at  the  same  time  cherish  his  hopes  of  a  no- 
bler inheritance  in  heaven.   The  trader  may 


*  With  what  amazing  speed  this  vessel,  (If  I  may 
carrj  on  the  allusion,)  filled  with  a  multitude  of  na- 
tions, and  freighted  with  all  their  possessions,  makes 
her  way  through  the  ethejial  si>Me. 


prosecute  the  demands  of  commerce,  with- 
out neglecting  to  negotiate  the  affairs  of 
his  salvation.  Tlie  warrior  may  wear  his 
sword,  may  draw  in  a  just  cause  that  nmr- 
derous  weapon,  yet  be  a  good  soldier  of  Je- 
sus Christ,  and  obtain  the  cro\^^l  that  fa- 
deth  not  away.  The  parent  may  lay  up  a 
competent  portion  for  his  children,  and  not 
forfeit  his  title  to  the  treasures  either  of 
grace  or  of  glory.  So  far  is  Christianity 
from  obstnicting  any  valuable  interest,  or 
withholding  any  real  pleasure,  that  it  im- 
proves the  one,  and  advances  the  other  : 
Just  as  the  diurnal  and  annual  motions  are 
so  far  from  clashing,  that  they  entirely  ac- 
cord ;  and  instead  of  being  destructive  of 
each  other,  by  mutuaDy  blending  their  ef- 
fects, they  give  proportion  and  harmony  to 
time,  fertility  and  innumerable  benefits  to 
natm-e. 

To  us  who  dwell  on  its  surface,  the  earth 
is  by  far  the  most  extensive  orb  that  our 
eyes  can  any  where  behold.  It  is  also 
clothed  with  verdure,  distinguished  by  trees, 
and  adorned  with  a  variety  of  beautiful  de- 
corations. Wliereas,  to  a  spectator  placed 
on  one  of  the  planets,  it  wears  an  uniform 
aspect ;  looks  all  luminous,  and  no  larger 
than  a  spot.  To  beings  who  dwell  at  still 
greater  distances,  it  entirely  disappears. 
That  which  we  call,  alternately,  the  morn- 
ing and  the  evening  star,  (as  in  one  part  of 
her  orbit  she  rides  foremost  in  the  proces- 
sion of  night,  in  the  other  ushers  in  and  an- 
ticipates the  dawn,)  is  a  planetary  world ; 
which,  with  the  four  others,  that  so  won- 
derfully var)'  their  mystic  dance,  are  in 
themselves  dark  bodies,  and  shine  only  by 
reflection  ;  have  fields,  and  seas,  and  skies 
of  their  own  ;  are  furnished  with  all  accom- 
modations for  animal  subsistence,  and  are 
supposed  to  be  the  abodes  of  intellectual 
life.  All  which,  together  with  this  our 
earthly  habitation,  are  dependant  on  that 
grand  dispenser  of  divine  munificence — the 
sun  !  receive  their  light  from  the  distribu- 
tion of  his  rays,  and  derive  their  comforts 
from  his  benign  agency. 

The  sun,  which  seems  to  perform  its 
daily  stages  through  the  sky,  is  in  this  re- 
spect,* fixed  and  immoveable.  It  is  the 
great  axle  of  heaven,  about  which  the  globe 
we  inhabit,  and  other  more  spacious  orbs, 
wheel  their  stated  courses.  The  sun, 
though  seemingly  smaller  than  the  dial  it 
illuminates,  is  abundantly  largerf  than  this 
whole  earth,  on  which  so  many  lofty 
mountains  rise,  and  such  vast  oceans  roll. 


*  I  say,  in  this  tespect,  that  1  may  not  seem  to 
forget  or  exclude  the  revolution  of  the  sun  round  its 
own  axis. 

t  lOO.OOK  times,  according  to  the  lowest  reckon- 
ing. Sir  Isaac  Newton  computes  the  sun  to  be 
nn(i,noO  times  bigger  than  the  e»rth.—RW!|j-70H»-  P;n7o- 
topher,  p.  740 


ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


99 


A  line,  extending  from  side  to  side,  through 
the  centre  of  tliat  resplendent  orb,  would 
measure  more  than  eight  hundred  thousand 
miles  :  a  girdle,  formed  to  go  round  its  cir- 
cumference, would  require  a  length  of  mil- 
lions :  were  its  solid  contents  to  be  estima- 
ted, the  account  would  overwhelm  our  un- 
derstanding, and  be  almost  beyond  the  power 
of  language  to  express.  *  Are  we  startled 
at  these  reports  of  philosophy  ?  Are  we 
ready  to  cry  out  in  a  transport  of  surprise, 
How  mighty  is  the  being,  who  kindled  such 
a  prodigious  fire,  and  keeps  alive,  from  age 
to  age,  such  an  enormous  mass  of  flame  ? 
Let  us  attend  to  our  pliilosophic  guides, 
and  we  shall  be  brought  acquainted  with 
speculations  more  enlarged  and  more  amaz- 
ing. 

The  sun,  with  all  its  attendant  planets, 
is  but  a  very  little  part  of  the  grand  ma- 
chine of  the  universe.  Every  star,  though 
in  appearance  no  bigger  than  the  diamond 
that  glitters  upon  a  lady's  ring,  is  really  a 
vast  globe,  like  the  sun  in  size,  and  in 
glory  ;  no  less  spacious,  no  less  luminous, 
than  the  radiant  source  of  our  day.  So 
that  every  star  is  not  barely  a  world,  but 
the  centre  of  a  magnificent  system  :  has  a 
retinue  of  worlds,  irradiated  by  its  beams, 
and  revolving  round  its  attractive  influence  ; 
all  which  are  lost  to  our  sight  in  unmea- 
surable  wilds  of  ether.  That  the  stars  ap- 
pear like  so  many  diminutive,  and  scarce 
distinguishable  points,  is  o\\dng  to  their  im- 
mense, and  inconcei\'able  distance.  Im- 
mense and  inconceivable  indeed  it  is  ;  since 
a  ball,  shot  from  a  loaded  cannon,  and  flying 
with  unabated  rapidity,  must  tra\'e],  at  this 
impetuous  rate,  almost  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand years,f  before  it  could  reach  the  near- 
est of  those  twinkling  luminaiies. 

Can  any  thing  be  more  wonderful  than 
these  observations  ?  Yes  ;  there  are  truths 
far  more  stupendous  ;  there  are  scenes  far 
more  extensive.  As  there  is  no  end  of  the 
almighty  Maker's  greatness,  so  no  imagi- 
nation can  set  limits  to  his  creating  hand. 
Could  you  soar  beyond  the  moon,  and  pass 
through  all  the  planetary  choir ;  could  you 
wing  your  way  to  the  highest  apparent  star, 
and  take  your  stand  on  one  of  the  loftiest 
pinnacles  of  heaven — you  would  there  see 
other  skies  expanded  ;  another  sun  distri- 
buting his  inexhaustible  beams  by  day ; 
other  stars  that  gild  the  horrors  of  the  al- 
ternate night ;  and  other,f  perhaps  nobler. 


•  Dr.  Derham,  after  having  calculated  the  dimensions 
of theplanets,  adds/'AinazinKasthesemassesare,  they 
are  all  far  outdone  by  that  stupendous  globe  of  light, 
thesun  ;  which,  as  it  is  the  fountain  of  light  and  heat 
to  all  the  planets  alxjut  it,  so  doth  it  far  surpass  them 
all  in  its  bulk ;  its  apparent  diameter  being  computed 
at  822,148  English  miles,  its  ambit  at  2,.')82,873  miles, 
and  its  solicf  contents  at,  21)0,971, U(X»,0(K),OUU,0(iU." 
Astro-Theology,  Book  I.  ch.  ii. 

t  See  Religious  Philosopher,  p..  818. 

t  See  Astro-Theology,  Hook  IT.  chap.  ii.  where  the 
author,  )iaving  assigned  various  reasons  to  support 


systems  established — established  in  unknown 
profusion,  through  the  boundless  dimensions 
of  space.  Nor  does  the  dominion  of  the 
universal  Sovereign  terminate  there.  Even 
at  the  end  of  this  vast  tour,  you  would  find 
yourself  advanced  no  farther  than  the  sub- 
urbs of  creation,  arrived  only  at  the  frontiers 
of  the  great  Jehovah's  kingdom." 

And  do  they  tell  me  that  the  sun,  the 
moon,  and  all  the  planets,  are  but  a  little 
part  of  his  works?  How  great,  then,  are 
his  signs  !  and  how  mighty  are  his  wonders. 
(Dan.  iv.  3.)  And  if  so,  what  is  the  Cre- 
ator himself?  How  far  exalted  above  all 
praise  !  who  is  so  high,  that  he  looks  down 
on  the  highest  of  these  dazzling  spheres, 
and  sees,  even  the  summit  of  creation,  in  a 
vale  !  so  great,  that  this  prodigious  extent 
of  space  in  but  a  point  in  his  presence  ;  and 
all  this  confluence  of  worlds,  as  the  lightest 
atom,  that  fluctuates  in  air,  and  sports  in 
the  meridian  ray.f 

Thou  most  sublime  and  incomprehen- 
sibly glorious  God,  how  I  am  overwhelmed 
with  awe  !  how  sunk  into  the  lowest  pro- 
stration of  mind  !  when  I  consider  thy  "  ex- 
cellent greatness,"  and  my  own  utter  insig- 
nificancy ?  And  have  I,  excessively  mean 
as  I  am,  have  I  entertained  any  conceited 
apprehensions  of  myself;  have  I  felt  the 
least  elatement  of  thought,  in  the  presence 


this  theory  of  our  modern  astronomers,  adds,  "  re- 
sides the  fore-meutioned  strong  probabilities,  we  have 
this  farther  recommendation  of  such  an  account  of  the 
universe,  that  it  is  far  more  magnificent,  and  worthy 
of  the  infinite  Creator,  than  any  other  of  the  narrower 
schemes." 

*  Job,  after  a  most  beautiful  dissertation  on  the 
mighty  works  of  God,  as  they  are  distributed  through 
universal  nature,  from  the  heights  of  heaven  to  the 
very  depths  of  hell,  closes  the  magnificent  account 
with  this  acknowledgment;  Lo !  these  are  parts  of 
his  ways.  Or,  as  the  original  word  more  literally  sig- 
nifies, and  may,  I  think,  be  more  elegantly  rendered. 
These  are  only  the  skirts,  the  very  uttermost  borders 
of  his  works.  No  mote  than  a  small  preface  to  the 
immense  volume  of  the  creation.  From  the  Hebrew 
(extremities,)  I  cannot  forbear  thinking  on  the  ex- 
treme and  very  attenuated  fibres  of  the  root,  when 
compared  with  the  whole  substance  of  the  trunk  ;  or 
on  the  exquisitely  small  size  of  the  capillary  vessels, 
when  compared  with  the  whole  structure  of  the  body. 
Job  xxvi.  14. 

t  This  puts  me  in  mind  of  a  very  fine  remark  on  a 
scriptural  beauty  and  a  solid  correction  of  the  com- 
mon translation,  made  by  that  learned,  sagacious,  and 
devout  expositor  Vitringa.  Isa.  xl.  15.  We  find  it 
written  of  the  Supreme  Being,  that  he  taketh  up  tlie 
isles  (Ii  a  vent  little  thiii^.  Which,  our  critic  observes, 
is  neither  answerable  to  the  import  of  the  original, 
nor  consonant  to  the  structure  of  the  discourse.  The 
prophet  liad  no  intention  to  inform  mankind  what 
the  Almighty  could  do  with  regard  to  the  islands,  if 
he  pleased  to  exert  uncontrollable  power.  His  design 
was  to  show  how  insignificant,  or  rather  what  mere 
nothings  they  ar,-,  in  his  esteem,  and  before  his  Ma- 
jesty. The  islands,  says  he,  though  so  spacious  as 
to  afford  room  for  the  erection  of  kingdoms,  and  the 
abode  of  nations ;  though  so  strong  as  to  withstand, 
for  many  thousands  of  years,  the  raging  and  reiterat- 
ed assaults  of  the  whole  watery  world,  are  yet,  before 
the  adored  Jehovah,  small  as  trie  minutest  grain  which 
the  eye  can  scarce  discern,  light  as  the  feathered  mote 
which  the  least  breath  hurries  away  like  a  tempest. 
Jnsulte  sunt  iit  leve  qiiiii,  qund  avelat.  The  deep- 
rooted  islands  are  as  the  volatile  atom,  which  by  the 
gentlest  undulations  of  the  air,  is  wafted  to  and  fro 
in  perpetual  agitation. 


100 


CONTEMPLi^TIONS 


of  so  majestic  and  adorable  a  being?  How 
should  this  wound  me  with  sorrow,  and  co- 
ver me  with  confusion  !  O  my  God,  was  I 
possessed  of  all  the  high  perfections,  which 
accomplish  and  adorn  the  angels  of  light  ; 
amidst  all  these  noble  endowments  I  would 
fall  down  in  the  deepest  abasement  at  thy 
feet.  Lost  in  the  infinitely  superior  blaze 
of  thy  uncreated  glories,  I  would  confess 
myself  to  be  nothing,  to  be  less  than  no- 
thing and  vanity.  How  much  more  ought 
I  to  maintain  the  most  unfeigned  liumilia- 
tion  before  thy  divine  majesty,  who  am  not 
ordy  dust  and  ashes,  but  a  compound  of  ig- 
norance, imperfection,  and  depravity  ! 

While,  beholding  this  vast  expanse,  I 
learn  my  own  extreme  meanness,  I  woidd 
also  discover  the  abject  littleness  of  all 
terrestrial  things.  What  is  the  earth  with 
all  her  ostentatious  scenes,  compared  with 
this  astonishing  grand  furniture  of  the  skies  ? 
What,  but  a  dim  speck  hardly  perceivable  in 
the  map  of  the  universe  ?  It  is  observed  by  a 
very  judicious  writer,*  that  if  the  sun  himself, 
which  enlightens  this  part  of  the  creation, 
was  extinguished,  and  all  the  host  of  plan- 
etary worlds  which  move  about  him,  were 
annihilated  ;  they  would  not  be  missed  by 
an  eye  that  can  take  in  the  whole  compass 
of  nature,  any  more  than  a  grain  of  sand 
upon  the  sea-shore.  The  bulk  of  which 
they  consist,  and  the  space  which  they  oc- 
cupy, is  so  exceedingly  little  in  comparison 
of  the  whole,  that  their  loss  would  scarce 
leave  a  blank  in  the  immensity  of  God's 
works.  If  then,  not  our  globe  only,  but 
this  whole  system,  be  so  very  diminutive, 
what  is  a  kingdom  or  a  country  ?  what  are  a 
few  lordships,  or  the  so  much  admired  pa- 
trimonies of  those  who  are  styled  wealthy  ? 
When  I  measure  them  with  my  own  little 
pittance,  they  swell  into  proud  and  bloated 
dimensions.  But  when  I  take  the  universe 
for  my  standard,  how  scanty  is  their  size, 
how  contemptible  their  figure  !  They  shrink 
into  pompous  nothings. 

When  the  keen-eyed  eagle  soars  above  all 
the  feathered  race,  and  leaves  their  very 
sight  below  -.  when  she  wings  her  way  with 
direct  ascent  up  the  steep  of  heaven,  and, 
steadily  gazing  on  the  meridian  sun,  ac- 
counts its  beaming  splendours  all  her  o\\-n  : 
does  she  then  regard  with  any  solicitude, 
the  mote  that  is  flying  in  the  air,  or  the  dust 
which  she  shook  from  her  feet  ?  And  shall 
this  eternal  mind,  which  is  capable  of  con- 
templating its  Creator's  glory,  which  is  in- 
tended to  enjoy  the  visions  of  his  counten- 
ance ;  shall  this  eternal  mind,  endued  with 
such  great  cajiacities,  and  made  for  such  ex- 
alted ends,  be  so  ignobly  ambitious  as  to 
sigh  for  the  tinsel  of  state ;  or  so  poorly 
covetous  as  to  grasp  after  ample  territories 


Spect.  Vol.  viii.  No.  odH 


on  a  needle's  point?  No;  under -the  influ- 
ence of  such  considerations,  I  feel  my  sen- 
timents expand,  and  my  wishes  acquire  a 
tone  of  sublimity.  My  throbbing  desires 
after  worldly  grandeur  die  away  ;  and  I  find 
myself,  if  not  possessed  of  power,  yet  su- 
perior to  its  charms.  Too  long,  must  I 
own,  have  my  afl^ections  been  pinioned  by 
vanity,  and  immured  in  this  earthly  clod. 
But  these  thoughts  break  the  shackles  ;• 
these  objects  open  the  door  of  liberty.  My 
soul,  fired  by  such  noble  prospects,  weighs 
anchor  from  this  little  nook,  and  coasts  no 
longer  about  its  contracted  shores ;  dotes 
!io  longer  on  its  painted  shells.  The  im- 
mensity of  things  is  her  range,  and  an  infin- 
ity of  bliss  is  her  aim. 

Behold  this  immense  expanse,  and  ad- 
mire the  condescension  of  thy  God.  In 
this  manner,  an  inspired  and  princely  as- 
tronomer improved  his  survey  of  the  noc- 
turnal heavens.  "  When  I  consider  thy 
heavens,  even  the  work  of  thy  fingers,  the 
moon  and  the  stars,  which  thou  hast  ordain- 
ed :  I  am  smitten  with  wonder  at  thy  glo- 
ry, and  cry  out  in  a  transport  of  gratitude. 
Lord,  \A'hat  is  man,  that  thou  ait  niindful  of 
him  !  or  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest 
him  !"  (Psalm  viii.  3,  4.)  How  amazing, 
how  charming,  is  that  divine  benignity, 
which  is  pleased  to  bow  down  its  sacred  re- 
gards to  so  foolish  and  worthless  a  creature  I 
yea,  disdains  not,  from  the  height  of  infinite 
exaltation,  to  extend  its  kind  providential 
care  to  our  most  minute  concerns !  this  is 
amazing.  But  that  the  everlasting  Sover- 
eign should  give  his  Son  to  be  made  flesh, 
and  become  our  Saviour !  shall  I  call  it  a 
miracle  of  condescending  goodness  ?  Rather 
what  are  all  miracles,  what  are  all  myster- 
ies, to  this  ineffable  gift  ! 

Had  the  brightest  archangel  been  com- 
missioned to  come  down,  with  the  olive 
branch  of  peace  in  his  hand,  signifying  his 
eternal  Maker's  readiness  to  be  recon- 
ciled ;  on  our  bended  knees,  with  teai's 
of  joy,  and  a  torrent  of  thankfulness,  we 
ought  to  have  received  the  transporting 
news.  But  when,  instead  of  such  an  an- 
gelic envoy,  he  sends  l\is  only  begotten  Son, 
his  Son  beyond  all  thought  illustrious,  to 
make  us  the  gracious  overture — sends  him 
from  the  "  habitation  of  his  holiness  and 
glory,"  to  put  on  the  infirmities  of  mortali- 
ty, and  dwell  in  a  tabernacle  of  clay  ;  sends 
him,  not  barely  to  make  us  a  transient  vi- 
sit, but  to  abide  many  years  in  our  inferior 
and  miserable  world ;  sends  him,  not  to  ex- 


*  The  soul  of  man  was  made  to  walk  the  skies, 
Fe'ightfu!  cutlet  ofhei  pri'-ou  here  ! 
Tuefe,  disincumbei-'cl  from  l.cr  ihams,  the  ties 
Of  to>s  terrestrial,  shs  can  i.    o  r.t  large  ; 
There  freely  cnn  respire,  dila     .  "x^eml. 
In  full  proportion  let  loose  a.,    i'  r  ;ir,wers. 

tiigM-lhousMn.  No.  IX. 


ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


101 


etcise  dominion  over  monarchs,  but  to  wear 
out  his  life  in  the  ignoble  form  of  a  ser- 
vant ;  and  at  last,  to  make  his  exit  under 
tne  infamous  character  of  a  malefactor  ! 
Was  ever  love  like  this  ?  Did  ever  grace 
stoop  so  low  ?*  Should  the  sun  be  shorn  of 
all  his  radiant  honours,  and  degraded  into  a 
clod  of  the  valleys  ;  should  ail  the  dignitar- 
ies of  heaven  be  deposed  from  their  thrones, 
and  degenerate  ir  ~o  insects  of  a  day  ;  great, 
great  would  be  the  abasement ;  but  nothing 
to  thine,  most  blessed  Jesus  !  nothing  to 
thine,  thou  prince  of  peace  !  when  for  us 
men,  and  for  our  salvation,  thou  didst  not  ab- 
hor the  coarse  accommodations  of  the  man- 
ger ;  thou  didst  not  decline  even  the  gloomy 
Lorroi-s  of  the  grave. 

It  is  well  the  sacred  oracles  have  given 
this  doctrine  the  most  explicit  confirmation, 
and  evidence  quite  incontestible  ;  other- 
wise a  favour  so  undeserved,  so  unexpected, 
and  rich  beyond  all  imagination,  might  stag- 
ger our  belief.  Could  He  who  launclies 
all  these  planetary  globes  through  the  illi- 
mitable void,  and  leads  them  on,  from  age 
to  age,  in  their  extensive  career  :  could  he 
resign  his  hands  to  be  confined  by  the  gird- 
ing cord,  and  his  back  to  be  ploughed  by 
the  bloody  scourge  !  Could  he  who  crowns 
all  the  stars  with  inextinguishable  bright- 
ness, be  himself  defiled  with  spitting,  and 
disfigured  with  the  thorny  scar !  It  is  the 
greatest  of  wonders,  and  yet  the  surest  of 
truths. 

O  !  ye  mighty  orbs,  that  roU  along  the 
spaces  of  the  sky  ;  I  wondered  a  little 
while  ago  at  your  vast  dimensions  and  ample 
circuits  ;  but  now  my  amazement  ceases,  or 
rather  is  entirely  swallowed  up  by  a  much 
more  stupendous  subject.  Methinks  your 
enormous  bulk  is  shrivelled  to  an  atom, 
your  prodigious  revolutions  are  contracted 


•  This  reminds  me  of  a  very  noble  piece  of  sacrert 
oratory,  where,  in  a  fine  series  of  the  most  beautiful 
gradations,  the  apostle  displays  the  admirably  conde- 
scending kindness  of  our  Saviour.  He  tliotipht  it  no 
robbery,  it  was  his  indisputable  right,  to  be  equal  with 
the  infinite,  self-existent,  immortal  God.  Yet,  in 
mercy  to  sinners,  he  emptied  himself  of  the  incom- 
municable honours,  and  laid  aside  the  robes  of  incom- 
prehensible glory.  W  hen  he  entered  upon  his  medi- 
atorial state,  instead  of  acting  in  the  grand  capacity 
of  universal  Sovereign,  he  took  uponhim  the  formofa 
servant;  and  not  theformof  those  ministering  spirits, 
whose  duty  is  dignity  itself,  who  are  throned,  though 
adoring.  He  tnnjc  not  on  him  the  nature  of  a>ic;els, 
but  stooped  incomparably  lower;  assumed  a  body  of 
animsf^d  dust,  and  was  inniie  in  the  likeness  of  men, 
those  inferior  and  depraved  creatures.  Astonishing 
condescension  !  but  not  sullicient  for  the  overflowing 
richness  of  the  Redeemer's  love.  For,  being  found  in 
fashion  a.t  a  man,  he  huinh'.rd  himself  farther  still  ; 
occupied  the  lowest  place,  where  all  was  low  and  ig- 
noble. He  not  only  submitted  to  the  yoke  of  the  law, 
but  also  bare  the  infiimities,  and  ministered  to  tli .' 
necessities  of  mort.-'.ls.  He  even  washed  the  feet  of 
others,  and  had  not  where  to  lay  his  own  head.  Yea, 
he  carried  his  meritorious  humiliation  to  the  very 
deepest  degrees  of  possible  abasement.  He  became 
obedient  unto  dent h  :  and  not  to  a  common  or  natur- 
al death,  but  a  death  more  infamous  than  the  gibbet, 
more  torturcms  than  the  rack,  even  the  aceuntd 
dentil  of  the  eross,  Phil  ii   6 — 8. 


to  a  span,  while  I  muse  upon  the  far  more 
elevated  heights,  and  unfathomable  depths, 
the  infinitely  more  extended  lengths,  and 
tmlimited  breadths,  of  the  love  of  God  in 
Christ  Jesus  ;  (Eph.  iii.  18,  19.) 

Contemplating  this  stately  expanse,  I  see 
a  mirror  which  represents  in  the  most 
awful  colours  the  heinousness  of  human 
guilt.  Ten  thousand  volumes  wrote  on 
purpose  to  display  the  aggravations  of  my 
various  acts  of  disobedience,  could  not  so 
effectually  convince  me  of  their  inconceiv- 
able enormity,  as  the  consideration  of  that 
aU-glorious  person,  who,  to  make  an  atone- 
ment for  them,  spilt  the  last  drop  of  his 
blood.  I  have  sinned,  may  every  child  of 
Adam  say  ;  and  what  sliall  I  do  unto  thee, 
O  thou  observer  of  men  ?*  Shall  I  give  my 
first-born  for  my  transgression,  the  fruit  of 
my  body  for  the  sin  of  my  soul?  vain  com- 
mutation !  and  such  as  would  be  rejected 
by  the  blessed  God  with  the  utmost  abhor- 
rence. Will  all  the  potentates  that  sway 
the  sceptre  in  a  thousand  kingdoms,  devote 
their  royal  and  honoured  lives  to  rescue  an 
obnoxious  creature  from  the  stroke  of  ven- 
geance ?  Alas  !  it  must  cost  more,  incom- 
parably more,  to  expiate  the  malignity  of 
sin,  and  save  a  guilty  wretch  from  hell. 
Will  all  the  principalities  of  heaven  be  con- 
tent to  assume  my  natiu'e,  and  resign  them- 
selves to  death  for  my  pardon  ?f  Even  this 
would  be  too  mean  a  satisfaction  for  inex- 
orable justice  ;  too  scanty  a  reparation   of 


*  Job  vii.  21.  Not  preserver,  as  it  stands  in  our 
version,  but  observer  of  men.  Which  phrase,  as  it  de- 
notes the  exact  and  incessant  inspection  of  the  divine 
eye,  as  it  intimates  theabsoluteimpossibilitythatany 
transgression  should  escape  the  divine  notice,  is  evi- 
dently most  proper,  both  to  assign  the  reason,  and 
heighten  the  emphasis  of  the  context. 

t  Milton  sets  this  thought  in  a  very  poetical  and 
striking  light. — All  the  sanctities  of  heaven  stand 
round  the  ihroneof  the  supreme  Majesty.  God  fore- 
sees and  fortels  the  fall  of  man  ;  the  ruin  which  will 
unavoidably  ensue  on  his  transgression  ;  and  the  ut- 
ter impossibility  of  his  being  able  to  extricate  him- 
self from  the  abyss  of  misery. 

He,  with  his  whole  posterity  must  die  ; 
Die  he,  e'er  justice  must ;  unless  for  him 
.Some  other  able,  and  as  willing,  pay 
The  rigid  satisfaction,  death  for  death. 

After  which  affecting  representation,  intending  to 
raise  the  most  tender  emotions  of  pity,  the  following 
inquiry  is  addressed  to  all  the  surrounding  angels. 

Say,  heav'nly  powers,  where  shall  we  find  such  love  ? 
Which  of  you  wil!  be  mortal  to  redeem 
Man's  mortal  crime  ?  and  die  the  dead  to  save  ? 
He  ask'd  ;  but  all  the  heavenly  choir  stood  mute. 
And  silence  was  in  heav'n. 

There  is,  to  me  at  least,  an  inimitable  spirit  and 
beauty  in  the  last  circumstance.  That  such  an  in- 
numerable multitude  of  generous  and  compassionate 
beings  should  be  struck  dumb  with  surprise  and  ter- 
ror at  the  very  mention  of  the  deadly  forfeiture  and 
ransom  set !  no  language  is  so  eloquent  as  this  silence. 
Words  could  not  possibly  have  expresseii,  in  so  em- 
phatical  a  manni.r,  the  dreadful  nature  of  the  task  ; 
the  absolute  inability  of  any  or  all  creatures  to  exe- 
cute it;  IIk"  siipereiriinint  and  matchless  love  of  the 
eternal  .■  .  in  undertaking  the  tremendous  work, 
not  only  will:. )Ut  reluctance,  but  unsought,  and  un- 
implored,  with  readiness,  alacrity  and  delight. 

Par.  Lost,  Book  HI.  line  'iwj.  Edit.  lieni. 


102 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


God's  injured  honour.  So  flagrant  is  hu- 
man guilt,  that  nothing  but  a  victim  of  in- 
finite dignity  could  constitute  an  adequate 
propitiation.  He  who  said,  "  Let  there  be 
light,  and  there  was  light ;"  let  there  be  a 
firmament,  and  immediately  the  blue  cur- 
tains floated  in  the  sky  ;  he  must  take  flesh ; 
he  must  feel  the  fierce  torments  of  crucifix- 
ion ;  and  pour  out  his  soul  in  agonies  if 
ever  such  ti'ansgressors  are  pardoned. 

How  vast  is  that  debt,  which  all  the 
wealth  of  both  the  Indies  cannot  discharge  ! 
How  vitiated  that  habit  of  body,  which  all 
the  drugs  produced  by  nature  herself  cannot 
rectify  !  But  how  much  more  ruined  was 
thy  condition,  O  my  soul !  how  much  more 
heinous  were  thy  crimes  !  since  nothing  less 
than  the  suflferijtgs  and  death  of  Messiah, 
the  Son  of  God,  and  radiant  image  of  his 
glon,',  could  effect  thy  recovery,  or  cancel 
thy  iniquity.  Though,  perhaps,  thou  art 
not  sunk  so  very  deep  in  pollution  as  some 
of  the  most  abandoned  profligates,  yet  re- 
member the  inestimable  ransom  paid  to  re- 
deem thee  from  everlasting  destruction. 
Remember  tliis,  and  "  never  open  thy 
mouth  any  more,"  (Ezek.  xvi.  63,)  either 
to  murmur  at  the  divine  chastisements,  or 
to  glory  in  thy  own  attainments.  Remem- 
ber this,  and  even  "  loathe  thyself  for  the 
multitude  of  thy  provocations,"  (Ezek. 
xxxvi.  31,)  and  thy  great  baseness. 

Once  more  let  me  view  this  beautiful, 
this  magnificent  expanse,  and  conceive  some 
juster  apprehensions  of  the  unknown  rich- 
ness of  my  Saviour's  atonement.  I  am  in- 
formed, by  a  writer  who  cannot  mistake, 
that  the  High  Priest  of  my  profession,  who 
was  also  the  sacrifice  for  my  sins,  is  higher 
than  the  heavens;  (Heb.  vii.  26,)  more 
exalted  in  dignity,  more  bright  with  glory, 
than  all  the  heavenly  mansions,  and  all 
their  illustrious  inhabitants.  If  my  heart 
was  humbled  at  the  consideration  of  its  ex- 
cessive guilt,  how  do  all  my  drooping  pow- 
ers revive  at  this  delightful  thought !  The 
poor  criminal,  that  seemed  to  be  tottering 
on  the  very  brink  of  the  infernal  pit,  is 
raised  by  such  a  belief,  even  to  the  portals 
of  paradise.  My  self-abasement,  I  trust 
will  always  continue,  but  my  fears,  under 
the  influence  of  such  a  conviction,  ai'e  quite 
gone.*  I  do  not,  I  cannot  doubt  the  effi- 
cacy of  this  proj)itiation.  While  I  see  a 
glimpse   of  its  matchless  exceUency,   and 


*  I  am  sorry  to  find,  that  some  of  my  readers  were 
a  little  disgusted  at  this  expression,  "  my  fears  are 
quite  gone;"  as  thinking  it  discovered  a  tincture  of 
arrogance  in  the  writer,  and  tended  to  discourage  the 
weak  Christian.  But  I  hope  a  more  mature  consider- 
ation will  acquit  me  from  both  these  charges.  For, 
what  has  the  author  said  ?  Only  that  at  some  pecu- 
liarly happy  moments,  when  the  Holy  Ghost  bears 
witness  of  Christ  in  his  heart,  and  he  is  favoured 
with  a  glimpse  of  the  Redeemer's  matchless  excel- 
lency— that  in  these  brighter  intervals  of  life,  his 
trenibling  fears  with  regard  to  the  decisive  sentence 


verily  believe  myself  interested  m  its  me- 
rits, I  know  not  what  it  is  to  feel  any  mis- 
giving suspicions,  but  am  steadfast  in  faitb, 
and  joyful  through  hope. 

Be  my  iniquities  like  debts  of  millions 
of  talents,  here  is  more  than  full  payment 
for  all  that  prodigious  sum.  Let  the  enemy 
of  mankind,  and  accuser  of  the  brethren, 
load  me  with  invectives  ;  this  one  plea,  A 
Divine  Redeemer  died  !  most  thoroughly 
quashes  every  indictment.  For  though  there 
be  much  turpitude,  and  manifold  transgres- 
sions, "  there  is  no  condemnation  to  those 
that  are  in  Christ  Jesus."  Nay,  were  I 
chargeable  with  all  the  vilest  deeds  which 
have  been  committed  in  every  age  of  the 
world,  by  every  nation  of  men ;  even  in 
this  most  deplorable  case  I  need  not  sink 
into  despair.  Even  such  guUt,  though  grie- 
vous beyond  all  expression,  is  not  to  be 
compared  with  that  abundance  of  grace  and 
righteousness  which  dwell  in  the  incarnate 
Divinity.  How  great,  how  transcendently 
glorious,  are  the  perfections  of  the  adored 
Jehovah !  So  great,  so  superlatively  pre- 
cious, is  the  expiation  of  the  dying  Jesus. 
It  is  impossible  for  the  human  mind  to  ex- 
alt this  atonement  too  highly  ;*  it  is  impos- 
sible for  the  humble  penitent  to  confide  in 
it  too  steadily.  The  scriptures  of  eternal 
truth  have  said  it,  (exult  my  soul,  in  the 
belief  of  it ! )  that  the  blood  on  which  we 
rely,  is  God's  own  blood;  (Acts  xx.  28,) 
and  therefore  all-sufficient  to  expiate,  omni- 
potent to  save. 

David,  that  egregious  sinner,  but  more 
exemplary  saint,  seems  to  have  been  well 
acquainted  with  this  comfortable  truth. 
What  else  can  be  the  import  of  that  very 
remarkable,  but  most  devout  declaration  ! 
"  Thou  shalt  purge  mef  with  hyssop,  and  I 
shall  be  clean  -.  thou  shalt  wash  me,  and  I 
shalt  be  whiter  than  snow."      I  have  been 


of  the  great  tribunal,  are  turned  into  pleasing  expect- 
ations. And  what  is  there  in  such  a  declaration  of- 
fensive to  the  strictest  modesty,  or  dispiriting  to  the 
weakest  believer  ?  Instead  of  creating  discourage- 
ment, it  points  out  the  way  to  obtain  a  settled  tran- 
quillity. Its  natural  tendency  is,  to  engage  the  seri- 
ous mind  in  a  more  constant  and  attentivemeditation 
on  the  unknown  merits  of  the  divine  Mediator.  And 
were  we  more  thoroughly  acquainted,  more  deei>!y 
aft'ectcd,  with  his  unutterable  dignity,  I  am  persuad- 
ed our  uneasy  apprehensions  would  proportionally 
vanish ;  our  faith  be  established,  our  hopes  brighten- 
ed, and  our  joys  enlarged. 

*  This  doctrine,  though  rich  with  consolation  to 
the  ruined  sinner,  yet,  is  it  not  likely  to  open  a  door 
for  licentiousness,  and  embolden  transgressors  to  pro- 
secute tlieir  vices  ?  No  ;  it  is  the  most  powerful  mo- 
tive to  that  genuine  repentance  which  flows  from  an 
unfeigned  love  of  God,  and  operates  in  a  hearty  de- 
testation of  a'l  sin.  One  who  knew  the  unmeasur- 
able  goodness  of  the  Lord,  and  was  no  stran^r  to  the 
sinful  perverseness  of  our  nature,  says,  "There  is 
mercy  with  thee;  therefore  shalt  thou  be  feared," 
Psalm  cxxx.  4.  Words  full  to  my  purpose ;  which  at 
once  add  the  highest  authority  to  this  sentiment, 
and  direct  our  minds  to  its  proper  influence,  and  due 
improvement. 

t  Psalm  li.  7-  "  Thou  shalt  purge."  I  prefer  this 
translation  before  the  new  one;  becjiuse  this  speaks 


ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


io:< 


guilty,  I  must  confess,  of  the  most  compli- 
cated and  shocking  crimes ;  crimes,  inflam- 
ed by  every  aggravating  circumstance,  with 
regard  to  myself,  my  neighbour,  and  my 
God.  Myself,  who  have  been  blessed 
above  men,  and  the  distinguished  favourite 
of  Providence  ;  my  neighbour,  who,  in  the 
most  dear  and  tender  interests,  has  been  ir- 
reparably injured  ;  my  God,  who  might  just- 
ly expect  the  most  grateful  returns  of  duty, 
instead  of  such  enormous  violations  of  his 
law.  Yet,  all  horrid  and  execrable  as  my 
offence  is,  it  is  nothing  to  the  superabund- 
ant merit  of  that  great  Redeemer  who  was 
promised  from  the  foundations  of  the  world  ; 
in  whom  all  my  fathers  trusted  ;  who  is  the 
hope  of  all  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Though 
my  conscience  be  more  loathsome,  with 
adidterous  impurity,  than  the  dunghill  ; 
though  treachery  and  murder  have  rendered 
it  even  black  as  the  gloom  of  hell ;  yet, 
washed  in  the  fountain  open  for  sin  and  for 
uncleanness,  (Zech.  xiii.  1,)  I  shall  be,  I 
say  not  pure  only,  this  were  a  disparage- 
ment to  the  efficacy  of  my  Saviour's  death  ; 
but  I  shall  be  fair  as  the  lily,  and  white  as 
the  snow.  Nay,  let  me  not  derogate  from 
the  glorious  obj  ect  of  my  confidence ;  cleansed 
by  this  sovereign  sanctifying  stream,  f  shall 
be  fairer  than  the  full-blown  lily,  whiter 
than  the  new-fallen  snows." 

Power,  saith  the  Scripture,  belongeth 
unto  God;  (Psalmlxii.il.)  And  in  what 
majestic  lines  is  this  attribute  of  Jehovah 
written  throughout  the  whole  volume  of  the 
creation  !  especially  through  those  magnifi- 
cent pages  unfolded  in  yonder  starry  re- 
gions ;  which  are  therefore  styled,  by  the 
sweet  and  seraphic  singer  of  Israel,  "  The 
firmament  of  his  power."  (Psalm  cl.  1,) 
because  the  grand  exploits  of  Omnipotence 
are  there  displayed  with  the  utmost  pomp, 
and  recorded  in  the  most  legible  characters. 

Who  that  looks  upward  to  the  midnight 
sky,  and  with  an  eye  of  reason  beholds  its 
rolling  wonders,  who  can  forbear  inquiring 
of  what  were  those  mighty  orbs  formed  ? 
Amazing  to  relate  :  They  were  produced 
^vithout  materials  !  They  sprung  from  emp- 
tiness itself.  The  stately  fabric  of  universal 
nature  emerged  out  of  nothing.  What  in- 
struments were  used  by  the  supreme  Archi- 
tect, to  fashion  the  piU'ts  with  such  exqui- 
site niceness,  and  give  so  beautiful  a  polish 
to  the  whole  ?  How  was  all  connected  into 
one  finely  proportioned,  and  nobly  finished 
structure  ?  A  bare  fiat  accomplished  all  ! 
Let  them  be,  saith  God.  He  added  no 
more  ;  and  immediately  the  marvellous  edi- 


the  language  of  a  more  steadfast  belief,  and  gives  the 
highest  honour  to  the  divine  goodness.  Were  the 
words  intended  to  bear  no  more  than  the  common 
petitionary  sense,  and  not  to  he  expressive  of  a  noble 
Vlerophory  of  faitli,  they  would  latlier  have  been  im- 
peratives and  not  futures. 


fice  arose,  adorned  with  evei7  beauty,  dis- 
playing innumerable  perfections,  and  declar- 
ing, amidst  enraptured  seraphs,  its  great 
Creator's  praise.  "  By  the  word  of  the 
Lord  were  the  heavens  made,  and  all  the 
host  of  them  by  the  breath  of  his  mouth."* 
^Yhat  forceful  machinery  fixed  some  of  those 
ponderous  globes  on  an  immoveable  basis  ? 
What  irresistible  impulse  bowled  others 
through  the  circuit  of  the  heavens  V  What 
coercive  energy  confined  their  impetuous 
courses  within  limits  astonishingly  large, 
yet  most  minutely  true  ?  Nothing  but  his 
sovereign  will.  For  all  things  were  at  first 
constituted,  and  all  to  this  day  abide  accord- 
ing to  his  ordinance. 

Without  any  toilsome  assiduity,  or  labori- 
ous process,  to  raise,  to  touch,  to  speak 
such  a  multitude  of  immense  bodies  into 
being ;  to  launch  them  through  the  spaces 
of  the  sky,  as  an  arrow  from  the  hand  of  a 
giant ;  to  impress  on  such  unwieldy  masses 
a  motion  far  outstripping  the  swiftness  of 
the  winged  creation  ;f  and  to  continue  them 
in  the  saine  rapid  whirl  for  thousands  and 
thousands  of  years;  what  an  amazing  instance 
of  infinite  might  is  this  !  Can  any  thing  be 
impossible  to  the  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  the 
Creator  and  Controller  of  all  the  ends  of 
the  earth,  all  the  regions  of  the  universe  ? 
Rather,  is  not  all  that  we  count  difficult,  per- 
fect ease  to  that  glorious  Being,  who  only 
spake,  and  the  world  was  made  ?  ( Psalm 
xxxiii.  9,)  who  only  gave  command,  and  the 
stupendous  axle  was  lodged  fast,  the  lofty 
wheels  moved  complete  ?  What  a  sure  de- 
fence, O  my  soul,  is  this  everlasting 
strength  of  thy  God  !  Be  this  thy  continual 
refuge  in  the  article   of  danger ;   this  thy 


*  If  this  thought  is  admitted  a  second  time,  and 
suffered  to  ennoDle  the  next  paragraph,  it  is  partly 
because  of  its  unequalled  subhmity;  partly,  because 
it  awakens  the  most  grand  idea  of  creating  power; 
and  partly,  because  the  practice  of  the  Psalmist,  an 
authority  too  great  to  be  controverted,  is  my  preced- 
ent. The  beautiful  stanza  quoted  from  Psalm  xxxiii. 
6,  is  a  proof  how  thoroughly  the  royal  poet  enter- 
ed into  the  majesty  of  the  Mosaic  narration.  The 
repetition  of  the  .sentiment,  verse  9,  intimates  how 
peculiarly  he  was  charmed  with  that  noble  manner  of 
describing  the  divine  operations,  while  the  turn  of 
his  own  composition  shows  how  perfectly  he  possessed 
the  same  elevated  way  of  thinking  :  And  tnis,  long 
before  Longinus  wrote  the  celebrated  treatise,  which 
has  taught  the  Heathen,  as  well  as  the  Christian 
world,  to  admire  the  dignity  of  the  Jewish  legislator*! 
style. —  I'id.  Longin.  de  Siibliiii.  -Sect  ix. 

t  To  give  one  instance  of  this  remark  :  The  earth, 
in  the  diurnal  revolution  which  it  performs  on  it« 
own  axis,  whirls  about  at  the  rate  of  above  a  thou- 
sand miles  an  hour.  And,  as  the  great  orbit,  which 
it  describes  annually  round  the  sun,  is  reckoned  at 
540  millions  of  miles,  it  must  travel  near  a  million  and 
a  half  each  day.  What  a  force  nuist  be  requisite  to 
protrude  so  vast  a  globe,  and  wheel  it  on,  loaded  as 
It  is  with  huge  mountains  and  ponderous  rocks,  at 
such  a  prodigious  degree  of  rapidity  !  It  surpasses  hu- 
man conception.  How  natural,  how  pertinent,  how 
almost  necessary  after  such  an  observation,  is  the  ac- 
knowledgment made  by  holy  Job  !  "  I  know  that 
thou  canst  do  every  thiii',',  ,ind  that  no  thought,  no 
imaginable  scheme  can  be  witliholden  from  thee,  can 
lie  beyond  thy  power  to  execute."    Chap.  xlii.  2. 


104 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


never-failing    resource  in  every    time    of 
need. 

What  cannot  this  uncontrollable  power 
of  the  great  Jehovah  effect  for  his  people  ? 
Be  iheir  miseries  ever  so  galling,  cannot 
this  God  relieve  them  ?  Be  their  wants 
ever  so  numerous,  cannot  this  God  sup- 
ply them  ?  Be  their  corruptions  within  ever 
so  inveterate,  or  their  temptations  without 
ever  so  importunate,  cannot  this  mighty, 
mighty  God,  subdue  the  former,  and  fortify 
them  against  the  latter  ?  Should  trials,  with 
an  incessant  vehemence,  sift  thee  as  wheat ; 
should  tribulation,  with  a  weight  of  woes, 
almost  grind  thee  to  powder  !  should  plea- 
sure, with  her  bewitching  smiles,  solicit 
thee  to  delicious  ruin  ;  yet  hold  thou  fast 
by  God  and  lay  thy  hplp  upoa  him  that 
is  omnipotent.*  Thou  canst  not  be  in- 
volved in  such  calamitous  circumstances, 
or  exposed  to  such  imminent  peril,  but  thy 
God,  whom  thou  servest  is  able  to  deliver 
thee  from  the  one,  and  to  support  thee 
under  the  other.  To  support !  to  deliver  ! 
— Let  me  not  dishonour  the  unlimited  great- 
ness of  his  power  :  He  is  able  to  exalt 
thee  from  the  deepest  distress  to  the  most 
triumphant  joy  ;  and  to  make  even  a  com- 
plication of  evils  work  together  for  thy 
everlasting  good.  He  is  able,  not  onl^  to 
accomplish  what  I  have  been  speaking,  but 


*  It  is  a  most  charming  description,  as  well  as  a 
most  comfortable  promise,  which  we  find  in  Isaiah 
xl.  29,  30,  :A.  He  giveth  power  to  the  feeble ;  and  to 
them  that  have  no  might  at  all,  he  not  only  impart- 
eth,  but  increaseth  strength  ;  making  it  to  abound, 
where  it  did  not  so  much  as  exist.  Without  this  aid 
of  Jehovah,  even  the  youths,  amidst  the  very  prime 
of  their  vigour  and  activity,  shall  become  languid  in 
their  work,  and  weary  in  their  course.  And  the 
young  men,  to  whose  resolution  and  abilities  no- 
thingseemed  impracticable,  shall  not  only  not  succeed, 
but  utterly  fall,  and  miscarry  in  their  various  enter- 
prises. Whereas  they  that  wait  upon  the  Lord,  and 
confide  in  his  grace,  shall  press  on  with  a  generous 
ardour  from  one  degree  of  religious  improvement  to 
another.  Instead  of  exhaustmg,  they  shall  renew 
their  strength ;  difficulties  shall  animate,  and  toil  in- 
vigorate them.  They  shall  mount  up,  as  with  soar- 
ing wings,  above  all  opposition ;  they  shall  be  car- 
ried through  every  discouragement,  as  eagles  cleave 
the  yielding  air :  They  shall  run  %vith  speed  and  alac- 
rity the  ^^ay  of  God's  commandments,  and  not  be 
weary:  They  shall  hold  on  (pi-ugredientei-,  carpenti- 
ter)  with  constancy  and  perseverance  in  those  peace- 
ful paths,  and  not  faint ;  but  arrive  at  the  end  of 
their  progress,  and  receive  the  prize  of  their  high  call- 
ing. 

To  this  most  cheering  doctrine,  permit  me  to  add 
its  no  less  beautiful  and  delightful  contrast.  Eliphaz, 
speaking  of  the  enemies  of  tire  righteous,  says,  ISiihil 
excisum  factio  nnbis  adversaria.  We  should  reckon 
our  langliage  acquitted  itself  tolerably  well,  if,  when 
deprecating  the  abilities  of  an  adversary,  it  should  re- 

S resent  them  weak  as  the  scorched  thread,  feeble  as  the 
issolvlng  smoke.  But  these  are  cold  forms  of  speech 
compared  with  the  eloquence  of  the  east.  According  to 
the  genius  of  our  Bible,  all  the  power  that  opposes  the 
godly,  is  a  mere  nothing;  or,  to  speak  with  a  more 
emphatical  air  of  contempt,  a  destroyed,  an  extir- 
pated nothing.  Admire  this  CTtpression,  ye  that  are 
charmed  with  daring  images,  and  (what  Tully  calls 
verbum  aniens)  a  spirited  and  glowing  diction.  Re- 
member this  dt-claration,  ye  that  fight  the  good  fight 
of  faith.  The  united  force  of  all  your  enemies,  be  it 
ever  so  formidable  to  the  eye  of  flesh,  is  before  your 
Rlniighty  Guardian,  nihil  ililiilissiintim,  not  only  no- 
thing, but  less  than  nothing,  and  vanity.    Job  xxii. 


to  "  do  exceeding  abimdantly  above  all  that 
we  can  ask  or  think.* 

O  !  the  wretched  condition  of  the  ^vicked, 
who  have  this  Lord  of  all  power  for  their 
enemy  !  O  !  the  desperate  madness  of  the 
ungodly,  who  provoke  the  Almighty  to 
jealousy  !  Besotted  creatures  !  are  you  able 
to  contend  with  your  Maker,  and  enter  the 
lists  against  incensed  Omnipotence?  Can 
you  bear  the  fierceness  of  his  wrath,  or  sus- 
tain the  vengeance  of  his  lifted  arm  ?  At 
his  presence,  though  awfully  serene,  the 
hills  melt  like  wax,  and  the  "  mountains 
skip  like  frighted  lambs."  At  the  least  in- 
timation of  his  displeasure,  the  foundations 
of  nature  rock,  and  the  pillars  of  heaven 
tremble.  How  then  can  a  withered  leaf 
endure,  when  "  his  lips  are  full  of  indigna- 
tion, and  his  tongue  as  a  devouring  fire  ?" 
Or,  can  any  thing  screen  a  guilty  worm, 
when  the  great  and  teiTible  God  shall  wbet 
his  glittering  sword,  and  his  hand  take  hold 
on  inexorable  judgment  ?  When  that  hand, 
which  shoots  the  planets — masses  of  exces- 
sive bulk,f  with  such  surprising  rapidity, 
through  the  sky ;  that  hand  which  darts 
the  comets  to  such  lunueasurable  distances 
beyond  the  orbit  of  our  remotest  planet, 
beyond  the  pursuit  of  the  strongest  eye  ; 
when  that  hand  is  stretched  out  to  punish, 
can  the  munition  of  rocks,  the  intervention 
of  seas,  or  even  interposing  worlds  divert 
the  blow  ?  Consider  this,  ambition,  and 
bow  thy  haughty  crest.  Consider  this,  dis- 
obedience, and  bend  thy  iron  sinew  !  O  ! 
consider  this,  all  ye  that  forget,  or  affront  the 
tremendous  Jehovah.  He  can,  by  a  single 
act  of  his  will,  lay  the  universe  in  utter 
ruin ;  and  can  he  want  power  to  bring  you, 
in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
to  the  dust  of  death,  or  to  the  flames  of 
hell  ?  He  has — I  say  not  ten  thousand 
lightnings  to  scorch  you  to  ashes,  ten  thou- 


»  I  should  in  this  place  avoid  swelling  the  notes 
any  farther, were  it  not  to  take  notice  of  the  inirnita- 
ble  passage  quoted  above,  and  to  be  found  Ephesians 
iii.  20.  Which,  if  I  do  not  greatly  mistake,  is  the 
most  complete  representation  of  divine  power  that  it 
is  possible  for  words  to  frame.  To  do  all  that  our 
tongue  can  ask,  is  a  miracle  of  might :  But  we  often 
think  more  than  we  can  express,  and  are  actuated 
with  groanings  unutterable.  Yet,  to  answer  these 
vast  desires,  is  not  beyond  the  accomplishment  of 
our  heavenly  Father.  Nay,  t  j  make  his  gifts  and  his 
blessings  commensurate  to  the  largest  stretch  of  hu- 
man expectations,  is  a  small  thing  with  the  God  of 
glory.  He  is  able  to  do  above  all  that  the  most  en- 
larged apprehension  can  imagine;  yea,  to  do  abund- 
antly more,  exceeding  abundantly  more,  than  the 
mind  itself,  in  the  utmost  exertion  of  all  its  faculties, 
is  capable  of  wishing,  or  knows  how  to  conceive. 

t  One  of  the  planets  (.Saturn)  is  supposed  to  be 
more  than  90  times  as  big  as  the  globe  on  which  we 
live.  According  to  the  same  calculation,  the  largest 
of  the  planets  (Jupiter)  is  above  2tKJ  times  vaster  than 
this  vast  collection  of  spacious  forests,  towering 
mountains,  extensive  continents,  and  boundless 
oceans.  Such  enormous  magnitude  !  winged  with 
such  prodigious  speed  !  It  raises  astonishment  beyond 
expression.  "With  God  is  terrible  majesty  f  Job 
xxxvii.  22.  "  Who  shall  not  fear  thee,  O  Lord,  and 
glorify  thy  name  ?"  Rev,  xv.  4. 


ON  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS. 


105 


Band  thunders  to  crush  you  into  atoms  ;  but, 
what  is  unspeakably  more  dreadful,  he  has 
an  army  of  terrors  even  in  the  look  of  his 
angry  countenance.  His  very  frowTi  is 
worse  than  destruction. 

I  cannot  dismiss  this  subject  without  ad- 
miring the  patience  of  the  blessed  God  ; 
who,  though  so  strong  and  powerful,  yet 
is  provoked  every  day.  Surely,  as  is  his 
majesty,  so  is  his  mercy — his  pity  alto- 
gether commensurate  to  his  power.  If  I 
^^lify  but  the  name  of  an  earthly  monarch, 
I  lose  my  liberty,  and  am  confined  to  the 
dungeon.  If  I  appear  in  arms,  and  draw 
the  sword  against  my  natural  sovereign, 
my  life  is  forfeited,  and  my  very  blood  will 
scarce  atone  for  the  crime.  But  thee  I 
have  dishonoured,  O  thou  king  immortal 
and  invisible  !  Against  thee  my  breast  has 
fomented  secret  disaffection ;  my  behavi- 
our has  risen  up  in  open  rebellion;  and 
yet  I  am  spared,  yet  I  am  preserved.  In- 
stead of  being  banished  from  thy  presence, 
I  sit  at  thy  table,  and  am  fed  from  thy 
hand.  Instead  of  pursuing  me  with  thun- 
derbolts of  vengeance,  thy  fa\ours  surround 
me  on  eveiy  side.  That  arm,  that  injured 
arm,  which  might  justly  fall,  with  irretriev- 
able ruin,  on  a  traitor's  head,  is  most  gra- 
ciously stretched  out  to  caress  him  with  the 
tenderest  endearments,  to  cherish  him  \vith 
every  instance  of  parental  kindness  !  O, 
thou  mightiest,  thou  best  of  Beings,  how 
am  I  pained  at  my  very  soid,  for  such 
shameful  and  odious  disingeniutj' !  Let  me 
always  abominate  myself,  as  the  basest  of 
creatures,  but  adore  that  unwearied  long 
suffering  of  thine,  which  refuses  to  be  irri- 
tated ;  love  that  uiu-emitted  goodness,  which 
no  acts  of  ingratitude  could  stop,  or  so  much 
as  check,  in  its  gracious  current.  O  !  let 
this  stubborn  heart,  which  duty  could  not 
bind,  which  threatenings  could  not  awe,  be 
the  captive,  the  willing  captive,  of  such 
triumphant  beneficence. 

I  have  often  been  struck  with  wonder 
at  that  almighty  skill,  which  Aveighed  the 
mountains  in  scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  ba- 
lance ;  \\hich  proportioned  the  waters  in  the 
hollow  of  its  hand,  and  adjusted  the  dust  of 
the  earth  by  a  measure.*      But  how  much 


*  Isa.  x!.  12.  The  dust  of  the  earth,  in  this  su- 
blime scripture,  signifies  the  dry  land,  or  solid  part  of 
our  globe ;  which  is  placed  in  contradistinction  to 
the  whole  collection  of  fluid  matter,  mentioned  in 
the  preceding  clause.  Perliaps  this  remarkable  ex- 
pression may  be  intended  to  intimate,  not  only  the 
extreme  niceness  which  stated  the  dimensions  of  the 
world  in  general,  or  in  the  gross,  but  also  that  parti- 
cular exactness  with  which  the  very  smallest  mater- 
ials that  con.-iitute  its  frame,  (not  excepting  each  in- 
dividual atom)  were  calculated  and  disjiosed; — </.  d. 
It  isa  small  thin^,'  to  sa\,  no  such  enormous  redund- 
ancies, as  unnecessary  ridges  of  niounlains,  were  suf- 
fered to  subsist.  There  was  not  so  much  as  the  least 
grain  of  sand  superfluous,  or  a  single  particle  of  dust 
deficient.  As  the  grand  aim  of  the  description  is  to 
celebrate  the  consummate  wisdom  exemplified  in  the 
creation,  and  to  display  that  perfect  proportion  iviih 
which  every  part  tallies,  coincides,  ami  harmonizes 


more  marvellous  is  that  magnificent  econ- 
omy, which  poised  the  stars  with  inexpress- 
ible nicety,  and  meted  out  the  heavens  with 
a  span  !  where  itU  is  prodigiously  vast,  im- 
mensely various,  and  yet  more  than  mathe 
matically  exact.  Surely  the  wisdom  of 
God  manifests  itself  in  the  skies,  and  shines 
in  those  lucid  orbs  ;  shines  on  the  contem- 
plative mind,  with  a  lustre  incomparably 
brighter  than  that  which  their  united  splen- 
dours transmit  to  the  eye. 

Behold  yonder  countless  multitude  of 
globes  ;  consider  their  amazing  magnitude  ; 
regard  them  as  the  sovereigns  of  so  many 
systems,  each  accompanied  with  his  plane- 
tary equipage.  Upon  this  supposition,  what 
a  multiplicity  of  mighty  spheres  must  be 
perpetually  running  their  rounds  in  the  up- 
per regions  !  Yet  none  mistake  their  way, 
or  wander  from  the  goal,  though  they  pass 
through  trackless  and  unbounded  fields. 
None  fly  off  from  their  orbits  into  extrava- 
gant excursions  ;  none  press  in  upon  their 
centre,  with  too  near  an  approach  :  none  in- 
terfere with  each  other  in  their  perennial 
passage,  or  intercept  the  kindly  communica- 
tions of  another's  influence.  *  But  all  their 
rotations  proceed  in  eternal  harmony,  keep- 
ing such  time,  and  observing  such  laws,  as 
are  most  exquisitely  adapted  to  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  whole. 

While  I  contemplate  this  excellent  wis- 
dom, which  made  the  heavens,  and  attunes 
all  their  motions,  how  am  I  abashed  at  that 
mixtiu-e  of  arrogance  and  folly  which  has  at 
any  time  inclined  me  to  murmur  at  thy  dis- 
pensations ?  O  Lord,  what  is  this,  but  a 
sort  of  implicit  treason  against  thy  supre- 
macy, and  a  tacit  denial  of  thy  infinite  un- 
derstanding !  Hast  thou  so  regidarly  placed 
such  a  wonderful  diversity  of  systems  through 
the  spaces  of  the  universe  ?  Didst  thou, 
without  any  probationar}'  essays,  \nthout 
any  improving  retouches,  speak  them  into 
the  most  consummate  perfection  ?  Dost 
thou  continually  superintend  all  their  cir- 
cumstances, with  a  sagacity  that  never  mis- 
takes the  minutest  tittle  of  propriety  ?  And 
shall  I  be  so  unaccountably  stupid,  as  to 
question  the  justness  of  thy  discernment  in 
choosing  my  inheritance,  and  fixing  the 
bounds  of  my  habitation  ?  Not  a  single  er- 
ratum, in  modelling  the  structure,  determin- 
ing the  distance,!    ^^^  conducting  the  ca- 


with  the  whole,  I  have  taken  leave  to  alter  the  word 
of  our  English  translation  com;i;(;/;('«d,  and  introduce 
in  its  stead  a  term  equally  faithful  to  the  Hebrew, 
and  more  significative  of  the  prophet's  precise  idea. 

*  1  he  interception  of  light,  by  means  of  an  eclipse 
happens  very  rarely,  and  tnen  it  is  of  so  short  a  con- 
tinuance as  iiot  to  be  at  all  inconvenient.  Nay,  it  is 
attended  with  such  circumstances  as  render  it  rather 
useful  than  prejudicial. 

i  The  sun  in  particular,  (and  let  this  serve  as  a  spe- 
cimen of  that  most  curious  exactness  with  which  the 
other  celestial  bodies  are  constituted,  and  all  their 
circumstances  regulated,)  the  sun  is  formed  of  such 
a  determinate  magnitude,  and  placed  at  such  a  con- 
venient distance,    "as  not  to  annoy,  but  only  re- 


106 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


reer  of  unnumbered  worlds  !  And  shall  my 
peevish  humour  presume  to  censure  thy  in- 
terposition \vith  regard  to  the  affairs  of  one 
inconsiderable  creature  ;  whose  stature,  in 
such  a  comparative  view,  is  less  than  a  span, 
and  his  present  duration  little  more  than  a 
moment  ? 

O  !  thou  God,  "  in  Avhose  hand  my 
breath  is,  and  whose  are  all  my  ways,"  let 
such  sentiments  as  now  possess  my  thoughts 
be  always  lively  on  my  heart !  These  shall 
compose  my  mind  into  a  cheerful  acquies- 
cence and  a  thankful  submission,  even  when 
afflictions  gall  the  sense,  or  disappointments 
break  my  schemes.  Then  shall  I,  like  the 
grateful  patriarch,  (Gen.  xii.  7,  8,)  in  all 
the  changes  of  my  condition,  and  even  in 
the  depths  of  distress,  erect  an  altar  of  ador- 
ing resignation,  and  inscribe  it  with  the 
apostle's  motto,  "  To  God  only  wise." 
Then,  shouldst  thou  give  me  leave  to  be  the 
carver  of  my  ovm  fortimes,  I  would  hum- 
bly desire  to  relinquish  the  grant,  and  re- 
commit the  disposal  of  myself  to  thy  un- 
erring beneficence  ;  fully  persuaded,  that 
thy  coimsels,  though  contrary  to  my  fro- 
ward  inclinations,  or  even  afflictive  to  my 
flesh,  are  incomparably  more  eligible,  than 
the  blind  impidse  of  my  own  vnh,  however 
soothing  to  animal  nature. 

On  a  careless  inspection,  you  perceive 
no  acciuacy  or  uniformity  in  the  position  of 
the  heavenly  bodies.  They  appear  like  an 
illustrious  chaos  ;  a  promiscuous  heap  of 
shining  globes  ;  neither  ranked  in  order,  nor 
moving  by  line.  But  what  seems  confu- 
sion, is  ah  regularity.  WTiat  carries  a  show 
of  negligence,  is  really  the  result  of  the 
most  masterly  contrivance.  You  think, 
perhaps,  they  rove  in  their  aerial  flight ;  but 
they  rove  by  the  nicest  rule,  and  without  the 
least  error.  Their  circuits,  though  seem- 
ingly devious,  their  mazes,  though  intricate 
to  om"  apprehensions,*  are  marked  out,  not 
indeed  with  golden  compasses,  but  by  the 
infinitely  more  exact  determinations  of  the 
all-wise  Spirit. 

So,  what  wears  the  appearance  of  calami- 
ty in  the  allotments  appointed  for  the  god- 
ly, has  really  the  nature  of  a  blessing.  It 
issues  from  fatherly  love,  and  will  termin- 
ate in  the  richest  good.  If  Josepli  is 
snatched  from  the  embraces  of  an  indulgent 
parent,  and  abandoned  to  slavery  in  a  fo- 
reign land,  it  is  in  order  to  save  the  whole  fa- 
mily from  perishing  by  famine,  and  to  pre- 
serve the  seed  in  whom  all  the  nations  of 


fresh  us,  and  nourish  the  ground  with  its  kindly 
warmth.  If  it  was  larger,  it  would  set  the  earth  on 
fire;  if  smaller,  it  would  leave  it  frozen.  If  it  was 
nearer  us,  we  should  be  scorched  to  death  ;  if  farther 
from  us,  we  should  not  be  able  to  live  foi  .vant  of 
heat." — Stackhousc's  Histort/  of  the  Bible. 

*  Mazes  intricate, 

Eccentric,  intervolved;  yet  regular 
Then  most,  when  most  irregular  they  sprni. 
ililt,,,,. 


the  earth  should  be  blessed.  If  he  falls  in- 
to the  deepest  disgrace,  it  is  on  piupose  that 
he  may  rise  to  the  highest  honoiurs.  Even 
the  confinement  of  the  prison,  by  the  un- 
searchable workings  of  Providence,  opens 
his  way  to  the  right  hand  of  the  throne  it- 
self. Let  the  most  afflicted  servant  of  Je- 
sus wait  the  final  upshot  of  things :  He 
will  then  discover  the  apparent  expediency 
of  all  those  tribulations  which  now,  per- 
haps, he  can  hardly  admit  without  reluc- 
tance, or  suSfer  without  some  struggles  of 
disatisfaction.  Then,  the  gushing  tear  and 
the  heaving  sigh  will  be  tiuned  into  tides 
of  gratitude  and  hymns  of  holy  wonder. 

In  the  mean  time,  let  no  audacious  railer 
presumptuously  impeach  the  divine  proce- 
dure ;  but,  adoring  where  we  cannot  com- 
prehend, let  us  expect  the  evolution  of  the 
mysterious  plan.  Then  shall  every  eye 
perceive,  that  the  seeming  labyrinths  of  pro- 
\ddence  were  the  most  direct  and  compend- 
ious way  to  efl!ect  his  general  piuposes  of 
grace,  and  to  bring  about  each  one's  parti- 
cular happiness."  Then  also  shall  it  be 
clearly  shown,  in  the  presence  of  applaud- 
ing worlds,  why  virtue  pined  in  want,  while 
■vice  rioted  in  affluence ;  why  amiable  inno- 
cence so  often  dragged  the  dimgeon  chain, 
while  horrid  guilt  trailed  the  robe  of  state. 
That  day  of  imiversal  audit,  that  day  of 
everlasting  retribution,  wiU  not  only  vindi- 
cate but  magnify  the  whole  management  of 
heaven.  The  august  sessions  shall  close 
•with  this  imanimous,  this  glorious  acknow- 
ledgment :  "  Though  clouds  and  darkness, 
impenetrable  by  any  human  scrutiny,  were 
sometimes  round  about  the  supreme  con- 
ductor of  tilings,  yet  righteousness  and  judg- 
ment were  the  constant  habitation  of  his 
seat,  (Psalm  xcvii.  2,)  the  invariable  stan- 
dard of  all  his  administrations."  Thus  (if 
I  may  illustrate  the  grandest  truths  by  in- 
ferior occiu"rences)  while  we  view  the  arras 
on  the  side  of  least  distinction,  it  is  void  of 
any  elegant  fancy  ;  %vithout  any  nice  strokes 
of  art ;  nothing  but  a  confused  jumble  of 
incoherent  threads.  No  sooner  is  the  piece 
beheld  in  its  proper  aspect,  but  the  suspect- 
ed rudeness  vanishes,  and  the  most  curious 
an-angement  takes  place.  We  are  charmed 
with  designs  of  the  finest  taste,  and  figures 
of  the  most  gracefid  form.  AM  is  shaped 
with  symmetry,  all  is  clad  in  beauty. 

The  goodness  of  God  is  most  eminently 
displayed  in  the  skies.  Could  we  take  an 
tmderstanding  survey  of  whatever  is  formed 
by  the  divine  Architect,  throughout  the 
whole  extent  of  material  things,  our  minds 
woidd  be  transported  with  their  excellencies, 


*  The  moral  world. 

Which,  though  to  us  it  seems  embroiled,  moves  on 

In  higher  order;  fitted  and  impelled 

Bv  W  isdom's  finest  hand,  and  issuing  all 

Iri  general  good. — Thommn't  Winter,  I.  50C>,  hint  edit. 


DN  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


1(17 


and  our  tongues  echo  bark  tliat  great  en- 
comium, they  are  good,  ven,'  good,  (  Gen.  i. 
31.)  Most  beautifid*  in  themselves  ;  con- 
trived by  unerring  wisdom,  and  executed 
with  inimitable  skill.  Most  uset'id*  in  their 
functions  ;  exactly  fitting  the  places  they 
fiU,  and  completely  answering  the  purposes 
for  which  they  were  intended.  All  the 
parts  of  the  inanimate  creation  proclaim, 
both  by  their  intrinsic  and  relative  excellen- 
cies, the  all- diffusive  beneficence  of  their 
Maker. 

How  much  more  wonderful  are  the 
displays  of  divine  indulgence  in  the  worlds 
of  life  !  Because  dead  matter  is  incapable 
of  delight,  therefore  the  gracious  Creator 
has  raised  innumerable  ranks  of  perceptive 
existence  ;  such  as  are  qualified  to  ti;.ste  his 
bounty,  and  enjoy  each  a  happiness  suited 
to  its  peculiar  state.  With  this  view,  he 
fiuiiished  the  regions  of  inferior  nature  with 
an  order  and  a  Series  of  sensitive  beings. 
The  waters  teem  with  shoals  of  fimiy  in- 
habitants ;  The  dry  land  swarms  with  ani- 
mals of  every  order :  The  dwellings  of  the 
firmament  are  occupied  by  multitudes  of 
wnged  people.  Not  so  much  as  a  green 
leaf,  pliilosophers  say,  but  lodges  and  ac- 
commodates its  puny  animalcule  tenants. -f- 
And  wherefore  this  diversity,  this  profusion 
of  living  creatures,  flying  the  air,  treading 
the  ground,  and  gliding  through  the  paths 
of  the  sea  ?  I^or  this  most  glorious  reason  : 
That  the  eternal  Sovereign  may  exercise 
his  superabundant  goodness  ;  that  his  table 
may  be  fmiiished  with  millions  and  millions 
of  guests  ;  that  he  may  fill  eveiy  hour,  every 


*  This  fca/oe,^a<?iia  of  the  universe,  and  all  its  parts, 
has  been  very  highly  and  very  justly  extolled  by  the 
ancient  inquirers  into  nature;  and  was  indeed  an  il- 
lustrious scene  spread  before  the  sages  of  the  Heathen 
world,  wherein  to  contemplate  the  goodness  and  the 
glories  of  the  supreme  Being.  It  was  nobly  said  by  a 
Pagan  philosopher,  on  this  occasion,  "  That  God, 
when  he  undertook  the  work  of  creation,  transf  'rm- 
ed  hiTiselt  into  love."  Hut  he  need  not  transform 
himself  into  this  amiable  principle;  for  "  God  is 
love  :"  as  was  much  more  nobly  said  by  one  whom 
that  philosopher  would  have  termed  a  barbarian.  1 
John  iv.  (i. 

t  A  very  celebrated  poet,  in  a  beautiful  jiaragraph 
on  this  subject,  informs  his  readers,  that  all  nature 
swarms  with  life.  In  subterranean  cells,  the  earth 
lieaves  with  vital  motion.  Kven  the  hard  stone,  in 
ihe  very  inmost  recesses  of  its  impenetrable  citadel, 
liolds  multitudes  of  animated  inhabitants.  The  pulp 
of  mellow  fruit,  and  all  the  productions  of  the  or- 
chard, feed  the  invisiljle  nations.  Each  liquid,  whe- 
ther of  acid  taste  or  mildci  relish,  abounds  with  va- 
rious forms  of  sensitive  existence.  Nor  is  the  pure 
stream,  or  transparent  air,  m  ithout  their  colonies  of 
unseen  people.  In  which  constitution  of  things  we 
have  a  wonderful  instance,  not  only  of  the  divine 
goodness  to  those  minute  beings,  in  giving  them  a  ca- 
pacity for  animal  gratifications,  but  of  his  tender  care 
for  mankind,  in  making  them  imperceptible  to  our 
KMises. 

These,  concealed 

Dy  the  kind  art  of  forming  heaven,  escape 
The  grosser  eye  of  man  :  Kor,  if  tlie  worlils 
In  worlds  enclosed  should  on  his  senses  burst, 
I"ro;n  cares  ambrosial,  and  the  nectar'd  howl, 
lle'd  turn  abhoirent ;  and  in  dead  of'niglil, 
Wlien  silcncesletpb  o'er  all,  be  stunn'd  with  noise. 
Tlwinsonii  Hxmnff. 


moment,  their  mouths  with   food,   or  their 
hearts  with  gladness. 

But  what  a  small  theatre  are  three  or 
four  elements  for  the  operations  of  Jeho- 
vah's boimty  !  His  magnificent  liberality 
scorns  such  scanty  limits.  If  you  ask, 
wherefore  has  he  created  all  \^'orlds,  and  re- 
plenished them  with  an  miknown  multipli- 
city of  beings,  rising  one  above  another,  in 
an  endless  gradation  of  still  richer  endow- 
ments, and  still  nobler  capacities  ?  The 
answer  is,  for  the  manifestation  of  his  o\mi 
glorj',  and  especially  for  the  communication 
of  his  inexhaustible  beneficence.*  The 
great  Creator  coidd  propose  no  advantage 
to  himself.  His  bliss  is  uicapable  of  any 
addition.  "  Before  the  mountains  were 
brought  forth,  or  ever  the  earth  and  the 
world  were  made,"  he  was  supremely  happj', 
in  liis  own  independent  and  all-sufficient 
self.  His  grand  design,  therefore,  in  erect- 
ing so  many  stately  fabrics,  and  peopling 
them  with  so  many  tribes  of  inhabitants, 
was  to  transfuse  his  exuberant  kindness, 
and  impart  felicity  in  all  its  forms.  Ten 
thousand  worlds,  stocked  with  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  ranks  of  sensitive  and 
intelligent  existence,  are  so  many  spacious 
gardens,  which,  with  rivers  of  communicated 
joy,  this  overflowing  foimtain  waters  con- 
tinually. 

Boundless,-f-  and  (which  raises  our  idea 
of  this  divine  principle  to  the  very  highest 
degree  of  perfection)  disinterestedf  mimifi- 
cence  !  How  inexpressibly  amiable  is  the 
blessed  God,  considered  in  this  charming 
light !  Is  it  possible  to  conceive  any  excel- 
lence so  adorable  and  lovely,  as  infinite  be- 
nevolence, guided  by  unerring  wisdom,  and 
exerting  almighty  power,  on  piu^ose  to 
make  a  whole  universe  hajipy  ?  O  my  soul, 
what  an  irresistible  attractive  is  here  !  what 
a  most  worthy  object  for  thy  most  fervent 
aflfection  !  shall  now  every  glittering  toy 
become  a  rival  to  this  transceiidently  bene- 
ficent being,  and  rob  him  of  thy  heart  ?  No, 
let  his  all-creatuig  arm  teach  thee  to  trust; 
in  the  fulness  of  his  sufficiency  ;  let  his  all- 
superintending  eye  incline  thee  to  acquiesce 
in  the  dispensations  of  lus  providence  :  and 
let  his    bomity,    so    freely    vouchsafed,    so 


A  sacred  writer,  considering  thii  delightful  sub« 
ject,  and  confining  his  observation  within  the  narrow 
limits  of  his  own  country,  cries  out  witha  mixture  of 
amazement  and  gratitude;  "  How  great  is  his  good- 
ness, and  how  great  is  his  beauty  I"  Who  then  can 
forbear  being  lost  in  wonder,  and  transported  with 
delight,  when  he  extends  his  survey  to  those  infinitely 
more  copious  communications  of  divine  bounty, 
which,  like  salutary  and  refreshing  streams,  run 
througli  all  worlds,  and  make  not  only  the  little  val- 
leys of  a  single  kingdom,  but  the  inunensity  of  crea- 
tion laugh  and  sing?  Zech.  ix.  17. 

t  In  this  sense,  "There  is  none  good  but  one, 
that  is  God."  None  universally  and  essentially  good  ; 
none  whose  goodness  extends  itself,  in  an  infinite 
variety  of  blessings,  to  every  capable  object ;  or  who 
always  dispenses  his  favours  from  the  sole  principle 
of  free  ana  disinterested  benc\  olcnce. 


108 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


amply  diffused,  induce  thee  to  love  him, 
with  all  the  ardour  of  a  grateful  and  admir- 
ing soul  ;  induce  thee  to  serve  him,  not 
with  a  joyless  awe,  or  slavish  dread,  but 
vdth  unfeigned  alacrity,  and  a  delightful 
complacency. 

If  the  goodness  of  God  is  so  admirably 
seen  in  the  works  of  nature  and  the  favoius 
of  providence,  with  what  a  noble  superiority 
does  it  even  triumph  in  the  mystery  of  re- 
demption !  •  Redemption  is  the  brightest 
mirror  in  which  to  contemplate  this  most 
lovely  attribute  of  the  Deity.  Other  gifts 
are  only  as  mites  from  the  divine  trea- 
smy  ;  but  redemption  opens,  I  had  almost 
said  exhausts,  all  the  stores  of  indulgence 
and  grace.  Herein  "  God  commendeth  his 
love ,"  (  Rom.  v.  8  ;)  not  only  manifests,  but 
sets  it  off,  as  it  were,  with  every  bright  and 
grand  embellishment ;  manifests  it  in  so  stu- 
pendous a  manner,  that  it  is  beyond  par- 
allel ;  beyond  thought ;  "  above  all  blessing 
and  praise."  Was  He  not  thy  Son,  ever- 
lasting God,  thy  only  Son,  the  Son  of  thy 
bosom  from  eternal  ages,  the  highest  object 
of  thy  complacential  delight  ?  Was  not  thy 
love  to  this  adorable  Son  incomparably 
greater  than  the  tenderest  affection  of  any, 
or  the  united  affections  of  all  mortal  pa- 
rents ?  Was  not  the  blessed  Jesus  more 
illustrious  in  excellency  than  all  angels  ; 
more  exalted  in  dignity  than  all  heavens  ? 
Yet  didst  thou  resign  him  for  poor  mortals, 
for  vile  sinners  !  Couldst  thou  see  him  de- 
scend from  his  royal  tlirone,  and  take  up  his 
abode  in  the  sordid  stable  ?  see  him  fore- 
go the  homage  of  the  seraphim,  and  stand 
exposed  to  the  reproachful  indignities  of  an 
insolent  rabble  !  see  him  arraigned  at  the 
bar,  and  sentenced  to  death  ;  numbered  wth 
malefactors,  and  nailed  to  the  gibbet ;  bath- 
ed in  his  own  innocent  blood,  and  pouring 
out  his  soul  in  agonies  of  sorrow  !  Could 
the  Father,  the  Father  himself,  with  un- 
known philanthropy,f  say,  "  It  shall,  it  shall 
be  so  !  My  pity  to  rebellious  man  pleads, 
and  prevails.  Awake,  therefore,  O  sword, 
(Zech.  xiii.  7,)  edged  with  divdne  wrath  ! 
awake,  and  be  sheathed  in  that  immaculate 


*  In  this,  and  in  other  parts  of  the  Contemplations, 
the  reader  will  observe,  that  the  attributes  of  the 
Deity  are  represented  as  shining  with  more  distin- 
guished lustre  in  the  wonders  of  redemption  than  in 
the  works  of  creation.  If  such  remarks  should  seem 
to  be  imprecedented,  or  to  stand  in  need  of  a  vindi- 
cation, permit  me  to  subjoin  the  sentiments  of  a 
great  critic,  equally  versed  in  both  those  sublime 
theories.  "  In  a  perfect  orator,"  he  says  "  Tully  re- 
quires some  skill  in  the  nature  of  heavenly  bodies; 
because  his  mind  will  become  more  extensi\  e  and  un- 
confined ;  and  when  he  descends  to  treat  of  human 
affairs,  he  will  both  think  and  write  in  a  more  exalted 
and  magnificent  manner.  For  the  same  reason,  that 
excellent  master  would  have  recommended  the  study 
of  those  great  and  glorious  mysteries,  which  revela- 
tion has  discovered  to  us ;  to  which  the  noblest  parts 
of  this  system  of  the  world  are  as  much  inferior,  as 
the  creature  is  less  excellent  than  the  Creator." 

Srerfntni,  vol.  xiil.  no. 6.53. 

1  Philanthropy,  that  is  loving-kindness  to  man. 


breast ;  pierce  that  dearly  beloved  heart.  I 
am  content  that  my  Son  endure  the  sharp- 
ness of  death,  rather  than  sinful  mortals 
perish  for  ever."  Incomprehensible  love  ! 
May  it  hencefonvard  be  the  favourite  sub- 
ject of  my  meditation,  more  delightful  to  my 
musing  mind  than  applause  to  the  ambitious 
ear  !  May  it  be  the  darling  theme  of  my 
discourse  ;  sweeter  to  my  tongue  than  the 
droppings  of  the  honey  comb  to  my  taste  ! 
May  it  be  my  choicest  comfort  through  all 
the  changes  of  life  ;  and  my  re\iving  cor- 
dial even  in  the  last  extremities  of  dissolu- 
tion itself ! 

A  prophet,  contemplating  with  a  distant 
survey  this  unexampled  instance  of  Almighty 
love,  is  wrapt  into  a  transport  of  devotion. 
At  a  loss  for  proper  acknowledgments,  he 
calls  upon  the  whole  universe  to  aid  his  la- 
bouring breast,  and  supply  his  lack  of  praise. 
Sing  melodiously,  ye  vaulted  heavens  ;  ex- 
ult, and  even  leap  for  gladness,  thou  cum- 
brous earth  ;  ye  mountains,  break  yoiu-  long 
silence,  and  burst  into  peals  of  loudest  ac- 
clamation ;*  for  the  Lord,  by  his  precious 
gift,  and  this  great  salvation,  hath  comfort- 
ed his  people.  A  sacred  historian  hath  left 
it  upon  record,  that  at  the  first  exhibition  of 
this  ravishing  scene,  there  was  -with  the  an- 
gel who  brought  the  blessed  tidings,  a  mul- 
titude of  the  heavenly  host,  praising  God, 
and  making  the  concave  of  the  skies  resound 
with  their  hallelujahs.  At  the  dawn  of  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  when  he  was  begin- 
ning to  rise  with  healing  in  his  wings,  the 
morning-stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons 
of  God  shouted  for  joy.  And  shall  man, 
whom  this  gracious  dispensation  principally 
respects  ;  shall  man,  who  is  the  centre  of  all 
these  gladdening  rays ;  shall  he  have  no 
heart  to  adore,  no  anthem  to  celebrate,  this 

Love  without  end,  and  without  measure,  grace  ? 

„  Milton. 

How  pure  is  the  state  of  the  sky,  and 
how  clear  its  aspect !  Clearer  than  the  lim- 
pid stream,  piu^er  than  the  transparent  crys- 
tal, and  more  curiously  fine  than  the  po- 
lished mirror.  That  stately  ceiling  fretted 
with  gold,  and  stretched  to  an  extent  of 
many  millions  of  leagues,  is  not  disfigured 
with  a   single   fiaw.      That  azure   canopy, 


*  Isa.  xlix.  13.  I  have  not  adhered  to  our  common 
translation,  but  endeavoured  to  preserve,  somewhat 
more  faithfully,  the  noble  pathos,  and  inimitable 
energy  of  the  sacred  original.  The  love  of  God  man- 
ifested  in  a  divine  and  dying  Saviour,  is  a  blessing  of 
such  inconceivable  richness,  as  must  render  all  ac- 
knowledgments fiat  and  all  encomiums  languid.  Vet 
I  think  the  most  poetical  and  most  emphatical  cele- 
bration of  that  unspeakable  instance  of  goodness,  is 
contained  in  this  rapturous  exclamation  of  the  pro- 
phet; which  intimates  with  a  wondeiful  majesty  of 
.sentiment,  thateven  the  whole  compass  of  the  inani- 
mate cieatiqn.  could  it  be  sensible  of  the  benefit  ard 
capable  of  delight,  would  expess  its  gratitude  in  all 
these  demonstrations  of  the  most  lively  and  exuber- 
ant joy. 


ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


109 


embroidered  with  stars,  and  spacious  enough 
to  fonn  a  covering  for  uniunnbered  worlds, 
is  without  the  least  spot  or  wiinlde.  Yet 
this,  even  this,  will  scarce  pcld  us  so  much 
as  a  faint  representation  of  the  divine  puri- 
ty. God  is  a  God  of  matchless  and  trans- 
cendent excellency.  His  ways  are  upright- 
ness itself.  His  counsels  and  words  are 
the  very  sanctity  of  wisdom  and  of  truth. 
The  laws  which  he  hath  given  to  universal 
nature,  are  exquisitely  contrived,  and  beyond 
all  possibility  of  improvement.  The  pre- 
cepts which  he  hath  a])pointed  for  the  hu- 
man race,  are  a  complete  summaiy  of  all 
tliat  is  honourable  in  itself  and  perfective  of 
the  rational  mind.  Not  the  least  oversight, 
in  planning  a  series  of  events  for  all  futiu-i- 
ty.  Not  the  least  mal-administration,  in 
managing  the  affairs  of  every  age  since  time 
began,  and  of  evciy  nation  imder  the  whole 
heavens.  Pardon  these  disparaging  ex- 
pressions :  A  negative  perfection  is  far,  far 
beneath  thy  dignity,  O  thou  most  liighest.* 
In  all  these  instances,  in  all  thy  acts,  and 
all  thy  attributes,  thou  art  not  only  holy, 
but  "  glorious  in  holiness." 

So  inconceivably  holy  is  the  Lord  God 
of  hosts,  that  he  sees  detUement  even  in  the 
brightness  of  the  finnamcnt.  The  living 
sapphire  of  the  heavens,  before  his  majesty, 
loses  its  lustre.  Yea,  the  stars,  (though 
the  most  pure  and  resplendent  part  of  the 
heavens)  are  not  pure  in  his  sight.  How 
much  less  man,  who  in  his  fallen  and  de- 
praved state,  is  but  as  a  worm  that  crawls 
in  the  corrupted  carcase  ;  and  the  Son  of 
Man,  who,  by  reason  of  his  manifold  ac- 
tual impurities,  is  too  justly  compared  to  an 
insect,  that  wallows  amidst  stench  and  pu- 
trefaction ?f     Is  there  not  then  abundant 


*  "  O  thou  most  highest."  This  expression  occurs 
more  than  onco  in  the  psalms  vised  by  the  established 
church.  It  is,  I  think,  one  of  those  beauties  which, 
because  often  exhibited,  generally  escape  our  notice. 
It  is  a  superlative  formed  on  a  superlative  ;  and, 
though  notstrictly  conformable  to  grammatical  rules, 
is  nobly  supejior  to  them  all.  The  language  seems 
to  be  sensible  of  its  own  deficiency,  when  the  incom- 
prehensible Jehovah  is  addressed  or  celebrated.  Op- 
pressed as  it  were  with  the  glories  of  the  subject,  it 
labours  after  a  more  emphatical  manner  of<liction 
than  the  ordinary  forms  of  speech  afford.  It  is,  if  I 
rightly  judge,  one  of  those  daring  and  happy  pecu- 
liarities of  a  masterly  genius,  which  Mr.  Pope  so  fine- 
ly describes,  and  while  he  describes,  exemplifies: 

Great  wits  sometimes  may  gloriously  offend. 
And  rise  to  faults  true  critics  dare  not  mend; 
From  vulgar  bounds  with  brave  disorder  part. 
And  snatch  a  grace  beyond  tlie  reach  of  art. 

Essay  vn  Criticism. 

St  Paul's  ij  abeiutiful  passage  of  the  like  nature  : 
which  our  translators  have  very  properly  rcnderpd, 
lets  than  thj;  ImM  of  all  siiir't.s.  His  polio  mnlluri 
kiethsstjti,  is  another  instance  of  the  s  me  kind.  But 
here  the  Kn-^ish  version  fails.  Far  better  is  >  xtreme- 
Jy  flaccid,  (.  mparcdwith  the  nervous  original.  And 
1  g^oatly  qu-Stion,  whether  it  is  possible  to  translate 
the  seuleiice  with  equal  conciseness,  and  with  equal 
spirit.    See  Eph.  iii.  ii.     Phil.  i.  2.J. 

t  Job  XXV.  5,  ti.  1  submii,  to  the  jtulgment  of  the 
leariied,  whether  this  is  not  the  true  meaning  of  the 
text.     It  may  not,  perhaps,  recommend  itself  to  the 


cause  for  the  most  irreproachable  and  emi- 
nent of  mankind  to  renounce  all  arrogant 
pretensions,  to  lay  aside  every  assuming  air, 
to  take  nothing  but  shame  and  confusion  to 
themselves  ?  A  holy  prophet,  and  a  holy 
prince,  felt  such  humbling  impressions  from 
a  glimpse  of  the  uncreated  purity.  I  abhor 
myself  in  dust  and  ashes,  (Job  xlii.  6,)  was 
the  declaration  of  the  one  :  I  am  a  man  of 
unclean  lips,  (Isaiah  vi.  3,)  the  confession 
of  the  other.  Shoidd  not  this  teach  us  all 
to  adore  the  divine  mercies,  for  that  precious 
purifpng  fountain,*  which  was  foretold 
from  the  fomidation  of  the  world,  but  was 
opened  at  that  awful  junctiu-e,  when  knotty 
whips  tore  the  flesh,  when  ragged  thorns 
mangled  the  temples,  when  shaqiened  nails 
cut  fresh  sluices  from  the  crimson  ciurent, 
when  the  gash  of  the  spear  completed  the 
dreadfid  work,  and  forthwith  flo^vcd  there- 
from the  wounded  heart  blood  and  water  ' 

Especially  since  God  liimstlf  saw  no 
blemish  in  his  dear  Son.  He  looketh  to 
the  moon,  and  it  shineth  not ;  yet  his  all- 
penetrating  and  jealous  eye  discerned  no- 
tliing  amiss,  nothing  defective  in  our  glori- 
ous Redeemer.  Nothing  amiss  ?  He  bore 
this  most  illustrious  testimony  concerning 
his  holy  child  Jesus  ;  "  In  him  I  am  pleas- 
ed ;  I  am  well  pleased  ;  I  acquiesce,  with 
entire  complacency  and  with  the  highest  de- 
light, in  his  person,  his  undertaking,  and  the 
whole  execution  of  his  office."  How  should 
this  thought  enliven  our  hopes,  while  the 
other  mortifies  our  pride  ?  Should  not  oiu- 
hearts  spring  within  us,  and  even  leap  for 
joy,  at  the  repeated  assurance  given  us  by 
revelation,  that  such  a  divinely  excellent 
person  is  oiu-  Mediator  ?  What  apparent 
reason  has  every  believer  to  adopt  the  bless- 
ed virgin's  exclamation,  "  My  soid  doth 
magnify  the  Lord  for  his  transcendent  mer- 
cy ;  and  my  spirit  rejoices,  not  in  wide  ex- 


squeamishly  nice  critic;  or  to  those  persons  who  dream 
of,  I  know  not  what,  dignity  in  our  fallen  nature. 
But  it  seems,  in  preference  to  every  other  interpre- 
tation, suitable  to  the  sacred  context :  and  is  fa  from 
being  injurious  tot!  e  character  of  that  apostate  race, 
whit-h  is  "  altogether  become  abominable,"  and  "is 
as  an  unclean  thing."  On  this  supposition  there  is 
not  only  an  apparent,  but  a  very  striking  contrast, 
between  the  purity  of  God  and  the  pollution  of  mars. 
The  i)urity  of  the  most  hif^h  God,  which  outshines 
the  moon  and  eclipses  the  stars  ;  the  pollution  of  de- 
generate man,  which,  exclusive  of  a  Saviour,  would 
render  him  as  loathsome  to  the  all-seeing  eye,  as  the 
vilest  vermin  are  in  ours.  Without  assigning  this 
cense  to  the  passage,  I  cannot  discern  ihe  force  of  the 
antithesis,  nor  indeed  the  propriety  of  the  sentiment. 
Worms,  in  the  general,  give  us  an  idea  of  meamuss 
and  infirm  ty,  not  of  defilement  and  impurity,  un- 
less they  are'insects  liatclu  ■!  r.midst  putrefaction,  and 
confide  cd  in  such  noisome  circumstances.  Th"  two 
woids  of  the  original  ae  evidently  ustd  in  thissigni- 
fication  by  Moses  and  Isaiah;  by  the  fc;-me-,  to  dt« 
note  the  vermin  which  devoured  the  putrefied  man- 
na; by  the  Ir.iter,  to  express  the  reptiles  which  swarm 
in  the  body  tliat  sees  corruption.  Exod.  xvi.  20. 
Isa.  xiv.  U. 

•■  "  In  that  day,  there  rhall  be  a  fount.^.in  opened 
to  the  hou^e  of  David,  and  to  the  inhabitants  of  Je- 
rusalem, for  sin  and  for  uncleannets,   Zech.  xlii.  1. 


no 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


tended  harvests,  waving  over  my  fertile  1 
glebe  ;*  not  in  armies  vanquislied,  and  leav- 
ing the  peculiar  treasiu'e  of  nations  for  my 
spoil  ;*  but  in  an  infiiiitely  richer,  nobler 
blessing,  even  in  God  my  Sa\'ioiu" :"  That 
a  person  so  sublime  and  perfect  has  vouch- 
safed to  become  my  surety ;  to  give  liimself 
for  my  ransom  in  the  woi'ld  below,  and  to 
act  as  my  advocate  in  the  royal  presence 
above ;  yea,  to  make  my  recovery  the  re- 
ward of  his  sufferings  ;  my  final  felicity  the 
honour  of  liis  mediatorial  kingdom  ! 

When  an  innumerable  multitudef  of 
bodies,  many  of  them  more  than  a  hundi'ed 
thousand  miles  in  diameter,^  are  all  set  in 
motion  ;  when  the  orbits  in  which  they  per- 
form their  periodical  revolutions,  are  ex- 
tended at  the  rate  of  several  himdreds  of 
millions  ;  when  each  has  a  distinct  and  se- 
parate sphere  for  finishing  liis  vast  circuit ; 
when  no  one  knows  what  it  is  to  be  cramp- 
ed, but  each  most  freely  expatiates,  in  his 
unbounded  career  ;  when  every  one  is  placed 
at  such  an  immense  remove  from  each 
other,  that  they  appear  to  their  respective 
inhabitants,  only  as  so  many  spots  of  light 
— how  astonishing  must  be  the  expanse 
which  yields  room  for  all  those  mighty 
globes,  and  their  \\adely-diffused  operations  ! 
To  what  prodigious  lengths  did  the  almighty 
builder  stretch  his  line,  when  he  marked 
out  the  stupendous  platform  !  I  wonder  at 
such  an  immeasurable  extent.  My  very 
thoughts  are  lost  in  this  abyss  of  space. 
But  be  it  knowm  to  mortals,  be  it  never 
forgot  by  sinners,  that,  in  all  its  most  sur- 
prising amplitude,  it  is  small,  it  is  scanty, 
compared  with  the  bomity  and  the  mercy 
of  its  Maker. 

His  bounty  is  absolutely  without  limits,  § 
and  wthout  end.  The  most  lavish  gene- 
rosity cannot  exhaust,  or  even  diminish  his 
munificence.  O  !  all  ye  tribes  of  men  ;  or 
rather,  all  ye  classes  of  intelligent  creatures. 


•  The  inspired  penman,  from  these  two  occa- 
sions of  distinguished  joys,  sets  forth  the  incompar- 
ably greater  delight  which  arises  from  the  gift  of  a 
Saviour,  and  ttie  blessing  of  redemption ;  Isa.  ix. 
ver.  3.  compared  with  ver.  6. 

t  This  refers,  not  only  to  the  planets  which  pass 
and  repass  about  our  sun,  but  also  to  the  other  plan- 
etary worlds,  which  are  supposed  to  attend  the  seve- 
ral fixed  stars. 

i  The  diameter  of  Jupiter  is  calculated  at  130,650 
miles,  while  its  orbit  is  reckoned  to  consist  of 
895,134,000.  Which  computation,  according  to  the 
maxims  of  astronomy,  and  the  laws  of  proportion, 
may,  as  is  taken  for  granted  in  the  Contemplations, 
be  applied  to  other  planets  revolving  round  other 
guns. 

§  By  bounty,  I  mean  not  the  actual  exercises,  or 
the  sensible  effects,  of  this  excellency  in  the  Deity. 
These  are,  and  always  must  be,  through  the  immense 
perfection  of  the  attribute,  and  the  necessary  scanti- 
ness of  the  recipient,  bovmded.  But  I  would  be  un- 
derstood as  speaking  of  the  divine  power,  and  the  di- 
vine will,  to  exert  divine  beneficence.  These  can 
have  no  real,  no  imaginable  limits.  These,  after  a 
profusion  of  blessings,  distributed  to  unnumbered 
worlds,  continued  through  imnumbered  ages,  must 
ttiU  liave  more  to  bestow,  for  ever  have  more  to  be- 
ttow,  infinitely  more  to  bestow,  than  it  is  pos&ible 
for  creation  itself  to  receive. 


ye  are  not  straitened  in  the  liberality  of 
your  ever-blessed  Creator  ;  be  not  straiten- 
ed in  yoiu:  owni  expectations.  "  Open  your 
mouth  v\dde,  and  he  shall  fill  it"  with  copi- 
ous and  continual  draughts  from  the  cup  of 
joy.  Yoiu-  God,  on  whom  is  your  whole 
dependence,  is  more  than  able,  is  more  than 
willing,  to  "  supply  all  your  need,  accord- 
ing to  his  riches  in  glory."  When  the  Lord 
Jehovah  is  the  giver,  and  his  gi-ace*  the 
gift  ;  let  your  wishes  be  imbounded,  and 
your  crav-ings  insatiable.  AH  that  created 
beings  can  possibly  covet,  is  but  a  very 
small  pittance  of  that  unknown  happiness 
which  the  everlasting  Benefactor  is  ready 
to  bestow.  Suppose  every  charitable  dis- 
position which  warms  the  hearts  of  the  hu- 
man race,  added  to  those  more  enlarged  af- 
fections which  glow  in  heaveidy  bosoms  ; 
what  were  they  all,  even  in  their  liighest 
exercise,  compared  Math  the  benignity  of 
the  divine  nature  ?  Bless  me,  tlieii,  thou 
eternal  som-ce  of  love  ;  bless  all  that  rever- 
ence thy  holy  name,  according  to  thy  own 
most  profuse  goodness,  whose  great  prero- 
gative it  is  to  disdain  all  measiu-e.  O  ! 
bless  us,  in  proportion  to  that  grace,  the 
richness  of  which  (unutterable  by  the 
tongues  of  men  and  of  angels)  was  once 
spoken  in  the  groans,  and  written  in  the 
wounds,  of  thy  expiring  Son  ! 

Spacious  indeed  are  these  heavens  !  where 
do  they  begin  ?  where  do  they  end  ?  what 
is  their  extent  ?  Can  angels  answer  my 
question  ?  have  angels  travelled  the  vast 
circuit  ?  can  angels  measure  the  bounds  of 
space  ?  No  ;  it  is  boimdless,  it  is  unknown, 
it  is  amazing  all.  How  charming,  then, 
to  reflect,  that  the  mercy  of  God  is  "  greater 
than  the  heavens  ;  is  more  extensive  than 
the  dimensions  of  the  sky."  Transporting 
reflection !  Let  me  indiflge  thee  once  morcf 
Let  me  thmk  over  the  delightful  displays  of 
tills  lovely  attribute ;  and,  while  I  admire 
the  trophies  of  forgi-ving  goodness,  add  one 
to  ^he  number.  AVith  what  amiable  and 
affecting  colours  is  this  represented  in  the 


*  2  Cor.  ix.  8.  "  God  is  able  to  make  all  grace 
abound  towards  you,  that  ye,  having  all  sufficiency 
in  all  things,  may  abound  to  every  good  work."  How 
beautiful  and  eraphatical  is  this  description ;  irtferior 
to  nothing  but  that  extent  of  ability,  and  those  riches 
of  liberality  which  it  so  eloquently  celebrates.  Does  it 
not  exhaust  all  the  powers  of  language,  while  it  at- 
tempts to  give  us  a  specimen  of  the  munificence  of 
the  Lord? 

■f  Once  more  refers  to  Reflections  on  a  Flower 
Garden.  Some  of  the  following  pages  exhibit  a  di- 
gressive view  of  the  divine  mercy.  1  thought  it  pro- 
per to  apprize  my  reader  of  this  excursion  ;  though  I 
hope  it  will  be  needless  to  offer  any  apology  for  en- 
larging upon  a  theme  incomparably  joyous.  Who  can 
complain  of  tediousness,  while  I  speak  consolation  to 
distressed,  and  recovery  to  ruined  creatures  ?  The 
divine  mercy  is  the  sole  fountain  of  all  our  present 
and  future  blessings.  In  conformity  to  this  benign 
attribute,  human  hopes  arise,  and  human  felicity 
flows.  Who,  therefore,  can  be  weary  of  viewing  ana 
reviewing,  when  the  lengths  and  breadths  of  forgiv- 
ing grace  are  the  ravishing  prospsct ; 


ON  THE   STARRY  IIEAVICNS. 


HI 


paralilc  of  the  prodijjfal !  AVliat  couJd  induce 
tliat  foolish  )()Ulli  to  forsake  his  father's 
house?  Had  he  not  been  tenderly  cherished 
by  tlie  good  parent,  and  loaded  with  bene- 
fits from  his  indulgent  hand  ?  Were  not 
the  restraints  of  parental  government  an 
easy  yoke  ;  or  rather  a  preservative  from 
ruin  ?  Notwithstanding  every  endearing  ob- 
ligation, he  revolts  from  his  duty  ;  and 
launches  into  such  scandalous  in'cgxdarities, 
as  were  dishonourable  to  his  family,  and  de- 
structive to  himself.  Wlien  necessity,  not 
clioice,  but  sharj)  necessity  drove  him  to  a 
submissive  return,  does  the  injured  father 
stand  aloof  or  shut  his  doors  ?  Quite  the 
reverse.  He  espies  him,  while  he  is  yet  a 
great  way  off ;  and  tlie  moment  he  beholds 
tlie  jjrodigate  youth,  he  has  compassion  on 
him.  His  bowels  yeani,  they  "  sound  Like 
a  harp,"  touched  with  notes  divinely  soft. 
He  never  once  thinks  of  his  ungi'acious  de- 
parture, and  infamous  debaucheries.  Pity, 
parental  pity,  passes  an  act  of  oblinon  ;  and 
in  one  instant,  cancels  a  series  of  long-con- 
tinued provocations.  So  strong  ai'e  the 
workings  of  fatherly  affection,  tliat  he  is 
almost  impatient  to  embrace  the  naked  and 
destitute  Vvretch.  The  son's  pace  is  slow, 
he  arose  and  came  ;  the  father's  is  swift,  he 
spnnig  forth  (aged  as  he  was)  and  ran. 
And  is  there  a  single  frown  in  his  brow,  an 
upbraiding  word  on  his  tongue  ?  Instead  of 
loathing  the  sordid  creature,  or  reproaching 
him  for  his  odious  excesses,  he  falls  on  his 
neck,  clasps  him  in  his  anns,  and  hugs  him 
to  his  bosom.  Instead  of  disowning  the 
riotous  spendthrift,  or  rejecting  him  for  his 
undutiful  belia\'iom',  he  receives  and  wel- 
comes him  with  kisses  of  delight.  He  re- 
joices at  his  return  from  extravagance  and 
vice,  as  he  formerly  rejoiced  on  the  day  of 
his  nativity.  ^Vhen  this  companion  of  har- 
lots opens  his  moutli — before  he  speaks,  the 
father  hears.  He  interrupts  him  in  the 
midst  of  his  intended  speech.  The  over- 
tlo\\ings  of  his  compassionate  heart  caji 
brook  no  delay.  He  seems  to  be  uneasy 
himself,  till  ho  has  made  the  afflicted  peni- 
tent glad  with  the  assurance  of  his  accept- 
ance, and  the  choicest  of  his  favours.  While 
the  poor  abashed  offender  seeks  nothing 
more  than  jiot  to  be  abhorred,  he  is 
thoroughly  reconciled,  and  honoiu-ed  before 
the  whole  family.  AVhile  he  requests  no 
other  indidgence  than  only  to  be  treated  as 
the  meanest  sen^ant,  he  is  clothed  wth  tlie 
best  robe ;  lie  is  feasted  with  the  fatted 
calf;  he  is  caressed  as  the  dearest  of  child- 
ren. Was  there  ever  so  bright  and  win- 
ning a  picture  of  the  tenderest  mercy,  most 
freely  vouchsafed,  even  to  the  most  ini- 
worthy  of  creatures  ?  Yet  thus,  my  soid, 
and  thus,  my  fellow-sinner,  will  the  Lord 
(Jod  of  everlasting  compassions  receive  us, 
if,  sensible  of  our  misery,  and  thirsting  for 


salvation,  we   turn   to  lijm   tlirough  Jesus 
Christ. 

Where  sin  has  abounded,  says  the  pro- 
clamation from  the  coiu-t  of  heaven,  gi-ace 
doth  much  more  abound.  Manasseh  was  a 
monster  of  bai'barity  ;  for  he  caused  his  o\m\ 
children  to  pass  through  the  tire,  and  filled 
.lerusaiem  with  innocent  blood.  Manasseh 
was  an  adept  in  iniquity  ;  for  lie  not  oidy 
midtiplied,  and  to  an  extravagant  degree, 
his  sacrilegious  impieties,  but  he  poison- 
ed the  principles  and  perverted  the  man- 
ners of  his  subjects,  making  them  to  do 
worse  than  the  most  detestable  of  the  hea^ 
then  idolaters,  ('2  Chron.  xxxiii. )  Yet, 
tlu'ough  this  superabundant  grace,  he  is 
humbled,  he  is  reformed,  and  becomes  a 
cliild  of  forgiving  love,  an  heir  of  immortal 
glory.  Behold  that  bitter  and  bloody  per- 
secutor Saul,  when,  breathing  out  tlireaten- 
ings,*  and  bent  upon  slaughter,  he  worried 
the  lambs,  and  put  to  deatii  the  disciples  of 
Jesus.  Wlio,  u])on  the  principles  of  human 
judgment,  woidd  not  have  pronounced  him 
a  vessel  of  wrath,  destined  to  unavoidable 
damnation  ?  nay,  woidd  not  have  been  ready 
to  conchide,  that,  if  there  were  heavier 
chains,  and  a  deeper  dungeon,  in  the  world 
of  woe,  tl««y  must  surely  be  reserved  for 
such  an  implacable  enemy  of  true  godliness  ? 
Yet  (admire,  and  adore  the  inexhaustible 
treasures  of  grace  !)  tliis  Said  is  admitted 
into  the  goodly  fellowship  of  tlie  prophets  ; 
is  numbered  wath  the  noble  anny  of  mar- 
tyrs ;  iuid  malvcs  a  distinguished  figure 
among  the  glorious  company  of  the  apos- 
tles. The  Corintliians  were  flagitious  even 
to  a  proverb.  Some  of  them  waUowed  in 
such  abominable  vices,  and  habituated 
themselves  to  such  outrageous  acts  of  in- 
justice, as  were  a  reproach  to  human  na- 
ture. Yet  even  these  sons  of  violence,  and 
slaves  of  sensutJity  "  were  washed,  were 
sanctified,  ivere  justified,  (1  Cor.  vi.  9,  10, 
II):  washed  in  the  precious  blood  of  a 
dying  Redeemer ;  sanctified  by  the  power- 
ful operations  of  the  blessed  Spirit ;  jusri- 


*  Acts  ix.  1.  "  Saul  yet  brcathiiif;  out  threatening 
and  slaugtiter." — What  a  rejiresentation  is  here  of  a 
mind  mad  with  rage,  and  abandoned  to  the  fiercest 
extremes  of  barbarity  I  I  scarce  know  whether  I  am 
more  shocked  at  the  persecutor's  savage  disposition, 
or  charmed  with  tlie  evangelist's  lively  description. 
The  adverb  T/o"?  seems  referable  to  chap.  viii.  ver.  3. 
and  has,  in  this  connexion,  a  peculiar  force.  The 
havoc  he  had  committed,  the  inotVensive  families  he 
had  already  ruined  were  not  sutlicient  to  assuage  his 
vengeful  spirit.  They  were  only  a  taste  ;  which,  in- 
stead of  glutting  the  blood-hound,  made  him  more 
closely  pursue  the  tr.ack,  and  more  eagerly  pant  for 
destruction.  He  is  jtillathirst  for  violence  and  mur- 
der. So  eager  and  insatiable  is  his  thirst  that  he 
even  breathes  out  threatening  and  slaughter.  His 
words  are  spears  and  arrows,  and  his  tongue  a  sharp 
sword.  It  IS  as  natural  for  him  to  menace  the  Christ- 
ians, as  to  Ijreathe  the  air.  Nay,  they  bleed  every 
hour,  every  moment,  in  the  purposes  of  his  rancor- 
ous heart.  It  is  only  owing  to  want  of  power,  that 
every  syllable  he  uttei-s,  every  breath  he  diaws,  does 
not  (Ual  about  deaths, and  ciuse  souieof  thciiuioccut 
ilu<iplLStofall. 


112 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


fied  through  the  infinitely  tender  mercies  of 
a  gracious  God.  Those  who  were  once 
the  burden  of  the  earth,  are  now  the  joy  of 
heaven,  and  the  delight  of  angels. 

There  is  another  instance  of  Scripture, 
which  most  loudly  publishes  that  sweetest 
of  the  divine   names  !     "  The   Lord,  the 
Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious,  long-suf- 
fering, and  abundant  in  goodness  and  truth  ; 
keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving  ini- 
quity, transgi'ession  and  sin,"  (Exod.  xxxiv. 
6,  T,)  an  instance  this,  which  exceeds  all  the 
former  ;    which   exceeds  whatever  can  be 
imagined  ;  which,   if  I  was  to  forget,  the 
very  stones  might  cry  out,   and  sound  it  in 
my  ears  :    I  mean  the  case  of  those  siimers 
who    miu-dered    the    Prince    of  peace    and 
Jjord  of  glon'.      These   men   could  scarce 
have   the   shadow  of  an   excuse   for   their 
crime,  hardly  a  circumstance   to  extenuate 
their  giult.      They  were  well  acquainted 
with  his  exemplary  conversation  ;  they  had 
often  heard    his   heavenly  doctrines  ;  they 
were  almost  daily  spectators  of  his  unequal- 
led miracles.       They  therefore  had  aU  pos- 
sible reason  to  honour  him  as  the  most  il- 
lustrious of  beings,  and   to  receive  his  gos- 
pel as   the   most  inestimable  of  blessings. 
Yet,  notwithstanding  all  these  engagijig  mo- 
tives  to  love   him,    even  above  their  own 
lives,  they  seize  his  person,  asperse  his  char- 
acter, drag  him  before    a  heathen  tribuniil, 
and  extort  a  sentence  of  death  against  inno- 
cence and  holiness  itself.    Never  was  the  vil- 
est slave  so  contumeliously  abused  ;  nor  the 
most  execrable   malefactor   so  barbarously 
executed.      The  sun  was  confounded  at  the 
shocking  scene  ;  and  one  cannot  but  won- 
der how  the  avenging  lightnings  coidd  with- 
hold their  flashes.    The  earth  trembled  at  the 
horrid  deed  ;  and  why,  why  did  it  not  cleave 
asunder,  and  open  a  passage  for  such  blood- 
thirsty miscreants  into  the  nethermost  hell  ? 
Shall  these  ever  hope  to  obtain  forgiveness 
from  the  righteous  Judge  ?   Shall  not  these 
be  consigned  over  to  inexorable  wTath,  and 
the   severest  torments?    O  the  miraculous 
effects  of  divine  grace  !      O  the  triumphant 
goodness  of  God  our  Saviour  !   Many,  even 
of  these  impious  wretches,  at  the  descent  of 
the  Holy   Ghost,  were  convinced  of  their 
miserable  state  ;  were  wounded  with  peni- 
tential remorse,  fled  to  the  sanctuary  of  the 
cross,  had  their  pardon  ratified  by  the  bap- 
tismal seal,  and,  continuing  in  the  apostles' 
doctrine,  were  made  partakers  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven ;  where  they  now   shine   as 
so   many    everlasting  monuments   of  most 
distinguished  mercy,  and  receive  beatitude 
past  utterance    from  that  very    Redeemer 
whom  once  "  with  wicked  hands  they  cru- 
cified tnl  sl:-w." 

Well  might  the  prophet  cry  out,  \vith  a 
pleasing  amazement,  "  Who  is  a  God  like 
unto  thee,  that  paxdoneth  iniquity,  and  pass- 


eth  by  transgression!"  (Micah  vii.  18.) 
Let  all  flesh  know  assuredly,  let  all  flesh 
rejoice  greatly,  that  \vith  the  Lord  there  is 
such  mercy,  and  with  his  Christ  such  plen- 
tiful redemption.  And  O  !  for  the  voice 
of  an  archangel,  to  circulate  the  glad  tidings 
tlirough  the  universe,  that  the  American  sa- 
vage, as  well  as  the  European  sage,  may 
learn  the  exceeding  riches  of  gi-ace  in  Christ, 
tlirough  whose  infinitely  great  propitiation, 
all  manner  of  sin,  barbarity,  and  blasphemy,' 
are  freely  forgiven  unto  men. 

What  a  grand  and  majestic  dome  is  the 
sky !  Where  are  the  pillars  which  support 
the  stately  concave  ?  What  art,  most  exact- 
ly true,  balanced  the  pressui-e  ?  What  props 
of  insuperable  strength  sustain  the  weight  ? 
How  is  that  immeasm"able  arch  upheld,  un- 
shaken and  unimpaired,  wliile  so  many  ge- 
nerations of  busy  mortals  have  simk  and 
disappeared  as  bubbles  upon  the  stream  ? 
If  those  stars  are  of  such  an  amazing  bidk, 
how  are  they  also  fastened  in  their  lofty  si- 
tuation ?  By  what  miracle  in  mechanics  are 
so  many  thousands  of  ponderous  orbs  kept 
from  falling  upon  our  heads;  kept  from 
dashing  both  the  world  to  pieces  and  its  in- 
habitants to  death  ?  Are  they  hung  in  golden 
or  adamantine  chains  ?  Rest  they  their 
enormous  load  on  rocks  of  marble  or  co- 
lumns of  brass  ?  No  ;  they  are  pendulous  in 
fluid  ether  ;  yet  are  more  immoveably  fixed, 
than  if  the  everlasting  mountains  lent  their 
forests  for  an  axle  tree,  or  their  ridges  for  a 
basis.  The  almighty  Architect  stretches 
out  the  north,  and  its  whole  starry  train, 
over  the  empty  place.  He  hangs  the  earth 
and  all  the  etherial  globes  upon  nothing. 
(Job  xx^ni.  7.)  Yet  are  their  foundations 
laid  so  sure,  that  they  can  never  be  moved 
at  any  time. 

No  imfit  representation  to  the  sincere 
Christian,  of  his  final  perseverance  :  *  such 


•  With  regard  to  the  final  perseverance  of  the  true 
believer,  I  am  sensible  this  point  is  not  a  little  con- 
troverted. The  sentiments  which  follow  are  my 
steadfast  belief.  It  is  by  no  means  proper,  in  a  work 
of  this  nature,  to  enter  upon  a  discussion  of  the  sub- 
ject. Neither  have  I  room  so  much  as  to  hint  what 
might  be  urged  for  its  support.  Let  my  reader  ob- 
serve, that  I  am  far  from  dehvering  it  as  essential  to 
Christianity,  or  necessary  to  salvation.  Millions 
of  the  very  contrary  conviction  are,  I  doubt  not, 
high  in  the  favour  of  God,  and  in  a  growing  meet- 
ness  for  his  heavenly  kingdom.  As  I  blame  none 
for  rejecting,  none,  I  hope,  will  be  offended  with 
me  for  espousing  this  particijar  doctrine.  To  be 
of  difl'erent  opinions,  at  least  in  some  inferior  in- 
stances, seems  an  unavoidable  consequence  of  our 
present  state,  where  ignorance  in  part  cleaves  to  the 
wisest  minds,  and  prejudice  easily  besets  the  mostim- 
parrial  judgmcnits.  This  may  turn  to  our  common 
advantage,  and  afford  room  for  the  display  and  exer- 
cisa  of  those  healing  virtues,  moderation,  meeliness, 
and  forbearance.  Let  me  only  be  permitted  to  ask, 
whether  this  tenet  does  not  evidently  tend  to  esta- 
blish the  com  fort  of  Uie  Christian,  ai-d  to  magiVify 
thefideUty  of  God  our  saviour?  whether,  far  from 
countenancing  sloth,  or  encouraging  remissness,  to 
know  that  our  labour  should  not  be  in  vain,  is  not  the 
most  prevailing  inducement  to  alwund  in  the  work  of 
the  Lord  ?  1  Cor.  xv.  5a 


ON  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS. 


113 


as  poir.ts  out  the  cause  which  effects  it,  and 
constitutes  the  pledge  which  ascertains  it. 
His  natiu-e  is  all  enCeebled.  He  is  not  able 
of  himself  to  think  a  good  thought.  He 
has  no  visible  safeguard,  nor  any  sufficiency 
of  his  own.  And  yet  whole  legions  of  for- 
midable enemies  are  in  a  confederacy  to 
compass  his  ruin.  The  world  lays  unnum- 
bered snares  for  his  feet ;  the  devil  is  in- 
cessantly urging  the  siege,  by  a  multitude  of 
fiery  darts,  or  mly  temptations  :  the  flesh, 
like  a  perfidious  inmate,  imder  colour  of 
friendship,  and  a  specious  pretence  of  plea- 
sure, is  always  forward  to  betray  his  inte- 
gi'ity.  But  amidst  all  these  threatening  ck- 
cumstances  of  personal  weakness  and  im- 
minent danger,  an  innsible  aid  is  liis  de- 
fence :  "  I  will  uphold  thee,"  says  the  bless- 
ed God,  "  \\ith  the  right  hand  of  my  right- 
eousness." (Isa.  xli.  10.)  Comfortable 
truth  !  The  arm  which  fixes  the  stars  in 
their  order,  and  giudes  the  planets  in  their 
course,  is  stretched  out  to  preserve  the  heirs 
of  salvation.  "  My  sheep,"  adds  the  great 
Redeemer,  "are  mine,  and  they  shidl  never 
perish  ;  neither  shall  any  pluck  them  out 
of  my  hand."  (John  x.  28.)  What  words 
are  these  !  and  did  they  come  from  him  who 
hath  all  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth  ?  and 
were  they  spoken  to  the  weakest  of  the 
flock ;  to  eveiy  unfeigned  follower  of  the 
great  Shepherd  ?  Then,  Omnipotence  it- 
self must  be  vanquished  before  they  can  be 
destroyed,  either  by  the  seductions  of  fraud, 
or  the  assaults  of  nolence. 

If  you  ask,  therefore,  what  security  we 
have  of  endming  to  the  end,  and  contiiuiing 
faithful  unto  death  ?  the  very  same  that  es- 
tablishes the  heavens,  and  settles  the  ordin- 
ances of  the  universe.  Can  these  he  thrown 
into  confusion  ?    (Jer.  xxxi.  33,  30,)  then 


1-3  any  one  inclined  to  examine  the  reasons  which 
made  the  author  a  proselyte  to  this  persuasion  ?  He 
may  find  thera  displayed  in  the  memorial,  delivered 
by  several  select  and  eminent  divines  of  the  church 
of  England,  at  the  renowned  synod  of  Dordt.  (See 
Acta  Synod  Dordrech.  par.  2,  pat;e  240  of  the  Latin 
edition,  published  in  a  single  quarto  volume.)  Those 
who  have  no  opportunity  of  consulting  the  memoirs 
of  that  venerable  assembly,  I  would  lefer  to  the 
works  of  the  indefatigable  and  very  learned  Turren- 
tin,  or  to  those  of  the  candid  and  elegant  Witsius. 
Turrent.  torn.  ii.  q.  xvi.  Wits.  Oecon.  lib.  iii.  cap. 
xiii. 

The  latest  and  fullest  view  of  the  point,  which  I 
ever  remember  to  have  met  within  any  of  our  En- 
glish writers,  is  in  the  Lime-street  Lectures:  which 
are  a  defence  of  several  most  important  doctrines  of 
the  gospel,  and  contained  in  two  octavo  volumes,  the 
united  labours  of  nine  modem  divines,  most  of  whom 
are  well  known  to  the  world  by  their  other  evangeli- 
cal and  useful  writings.  In  those  lectures,  the  final 
perseverance  of  thesamts  is  very  particularly  stated  ; 
and,  to  my  apprehension  at  least,  most  satisfactorily 
proved;  the  arguments  usually  urged  against  it  are 
impartially  considered  !  and  I  cannot  but  think  (with 
all  due  deterence  to  the  judgment  of  others)  un.aii- 
swerably  confuted. 

And  litre  (not  to  swell  thisnote  any  farther,)  I  shall 
only  just  hint,  that  the  judicious  Hooker,  (an  author- 
ity, perhaps,  as  weighty  and  unexceptionable  as  any 
that  can  well  be  produced)  gives  a  solemn  attestation 
of  this  tenet,  in  a  short  discourse  on  the  perpetuity  of 
laith,  subjoined  to  his  Ecclesiastical  I'olity.  Foledit. 


may  the  true  believer  draw  back  unto  per- 
dition. Can  the  sun  be  (Uslodged  from  his 
sphere,  and  rush  lawlessly  thi-ough  the  sky  ? 
Then,  and  then  only,  can  the  faith  of  God's 
elect  be  finally  overtliro\\m.  (Titus  i.  2.) 
Be  of  good  coiu-age,  then,  my  soul,  rely  on 
those  divine  succoiurs  which  are  so  so- 
lemnly stipulated,  so  faithfidly  promised. 
Though  thy  grace  be  languid  as  the  glim- 
mering spark,  though  the  overflowings  of 
corruption  threaten  it  wth  total  extinction, 
yet,  since  the  great  Jehovah  has  underta- 
ken to  cherish  the  dim  principle,  "  many 
waters  cannot  quench  it,  nor  all  floods 
drown  it."  Nay,  though  it  were  feeble  as 
the  smoking  flax,*  goodness  and  faithfulness 
stand  engaged  to  augment  the  heat,  to  raise 
the  fu-e,  and  feed  the  flame,  till  it  beam 
forth,  a  lamp  of  immortal  glory  in  the  hea- 
vens. 

As  to  the  faithfulness  of  a.  covenanting 
God,  this  may  be  emblematically  seen  in 
the  stability  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  the 
perpetuity  of  their  motion  :  ( Psalm  cxLx. 
89,  90.)  Those  that  are  fi.xed  or  station- 
ary, continue  luialterable  in  their  grand  ele- 
vations :  no  injurious  shocks,  no  violence 
of  conflicting  elements,  are  able  to  tUsplace 
those  everlasting  hinges  on  M^hich  depend- 
ant worlds  revolve :  tlu'ough  the  whole 
flight  of  time,  they  recede  not  so  much  as 
a  hair's  breadth  from  the  precise  central 
point  of  their  respective  systems  ;  while  the 
erratic,  or  planetaiy,  perform  their  prodi- 
gious stages  without  any  intermission,  or 
the  least  embarrassment.  How  soon,  and 
how  easily  is  the  most  finished  piece  of  hu- 
man machinery  disconcerted  !  But  aU  the 
celestial  movements  are  so  nicely  adjusted, 
all  their  operations  so  critically  proportion- 
ed, and  their  mutual  dependencies  so  strong- 
ly connected,  that  they  prolong  their  bene- 
ficial courses  througliout  all  ages.  While 
mighty  cities  are  oserwiielmed  with  ruin, 
and  their  very  names  lost  in  oblivion  ;  while 


*  The  tenderness  and  faithfulness  of  God  to  his 
people,  are  finely  jiictured  by  the  prophet  Isaiah,  chap, 
xlii.  ver.  3.  Which  passage,  because  of  its  rich  con- 
solation, and  uncommon  beauty,  is  deservedly  adopt- 
ed by  St.  Matthew,  and  ingrafted  into  the  system  of 
evangelical  truths.  Ha  will  not  himself  break,  nor 
suffer  to  be  broken  by  any  other,  the  bruised  reed,  nor 
quench  the  smuUini;  Jiu.r.  Was  it  possible  to  have 
chosen  two  more  delicate  ami  expressive  representa- 
tions ?  Could  any  imasje  be  more  significant  of  a  very 
infirm  and  enfeebled  faith,  than  the  fiexile  reed  that 
bends  before  every  wind;  which,  besides  its  natur- 
al weakness,  is  made  abundantly  weaker  by  being 
bruised,  and  so  is  ready  to  fall  in  pieces  of  itself !  Or 
could  any  thing,  witli  a  more  pathetical  exactness 
describe  the  extreme  imbecility  of  that  other  princi- 
ple of  the  divine  life,  love!  The  state  of  the  flax  just 
beginning  to  burn  is  liable  to  be  put  out  by  the  least 
blast ;  moreliablcstill  is  the  wick  of  the  lamp,  when 
it  is  not  so  much  as  kindled  into  a  glimmering  flame, 
but  only  brcathinif  smnkf.  and  uncertain  whether  iC 
shall  take  fire  or  not.  Vol  true  faith  and  lieavenK 
love,  tliougli  subsisting  amidst  such  pitiable  infirmi- 
ties, will  not  be  abandoned  by  their  great  Author, 
shall  not  be  extinguished  by  any  temptations,  but  bu 
maintamed,  invigorated,  and  made  finally  triumiih- 
ant.     Matt.  xii.  20. 

1 


114 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


vast  empires  are  swept  from  their  founda- 
tions, and  leave  not  so  much  as  a  shadowy 
trace  of  their  ancient  maj^iifkeiice  ;  while 
all  terrestrial  things  are  subject  to  vicissitude 
and  fluctuating  in  uncertainty  ; — these  are 
permanent  in  their  diu-ation  ;  these  are  in- 
variable in  their  functions  :  Not  one  fail- 
eth.  Who  doubts  the  constant  succession 
of  day  and  night,  or  the  regular  returns  of 
summer  and  winter  ?  And  why,  O  !  why 
shall  we  doubt  the  veracity  of  God,  or  dis- 
trust the  accomplishment  of  his  holy  word  ? 
Can  the  ordinances  of  heaven  depart  ?  Then 
only  can  God  forget  to  be  gracious,  or  ne- 
glect the  performance  of  his  promise.  Nay, 
our  Lord  gives  us  yet  firmer  grounds  of 
affiance,  he  affords  us  a  surer  bottom  for  oiu- 
faith,  than  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  imi- 
verse.  Heaven  and  earth,  he  says,  shall 
pass  away,  but  my  words  shall  not  m  a  sin- 
gle instance,  or  in  one  tittle  of  their  import, 
pass  away,  No  :  his  sacred  word,  what- 
ever may  obstruct  it,  whoever  may  oppose 
it,  shall  be  fulfilled  to  the  veiy  uttermost. 

O  powerful  word !  How  astonishing  is 
its  efficacy  !  When  this  word  was  issued 
forth,  a  thousand  worlds  emerged  out  of 
nothing.  Should  the  mighty  orders  be  re- 
peated, a  thousand  more  would  spring  into 
existence.  By  this  word,  the  vast  system 
of  created  things  is  upheld  in  constant  and 
immutable  perfection.  Should  it  give  com- 
mand, or  cease  to  exert  its  energy,  the  uni- 
versal frame  would  be  dissolved,  and  all  na- 
ture revert  to  her  original  chaos.  And  this 
very  word  is  pledged  for  the  safety,  the  com- 
fort, the  happiness  of  the  godly.  This  in- 
violable,  this  almighty  word  speaks  in  aU 
the  promises  of  the  gospel.  How  strange- 
ly infatuated  are  our  souls,  that  we  should 
^alue  it  so  little  !  What  infidels  are  we  in 
fiict,  that  we  shoidd  depend  upon  it  no 
more  !  Did  it  create  whatever  has  a  being, 
and  shall  it  not  work  faith  in  our  breasts  ? 
Do  unnumbered  worlds  owe  their  support 
to  this  word ;  and  shall  it  not  be  sufficient 
to  buoy  up  oiu'  souls  in  troubles,  or  establish 
tliem  in  trials  ?  Is  it  the  life  of  the  universe, 
and  shall  it  be  a  dead  letter  to  mankind  ? 

If  I  wish  to  be  heard  when  I  implore 
heavenly  blessings,  is  not  this  privilege  most 
clearly  made  over  to  my  enjoyTnent  in  that 
well-knowai  text,  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be 
given  you."  (T^Iatt.  vii.  7.)  If  I  long  for 
the  eternal  Comforter  to  dwell  in  my  heart, 
and  s-notify  my  nature,  have  I  not  an  ap- 
p;;rent  title  to  this  high  prerogative  confer- 
red in  that  sweet  assertive  interrogation, 
"  How  much  m.ore  shall  your  heavenly  Fa- 
ther give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  those  that  ask 
him  ?"  (Luke  xi.  13.)  If  I  earnestly  covet 
the  inestimable  treasures  that  are  comprised 
in  the  great  Immanuel's  mediation,  can  I 
have  a  firmer  claim  to  the  noble  portion  th-.^n 
is  granted  in  that  most  precious  scripture, 


"  Him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out."  (John  vi.  37.)  What  assurance 
of  being  interested  in  these  unspeakable 
mercies  would  I  desire  ?  What  form  of  con- 
veyance, what  deed  of  settlement,  were  it 
left  to  my  own  option,  should  I  choose  ? 
Here  is  the  word  of  a  king,  the  king  im- 
moital  and  invisible  ;  all  whose  declarations 
are  truth  itself.  *  If  a  monarch  bestow  im- 
munities on  a  body  of  men,  and  confirm 
them  by  an  authentic  charter,  no  one  con- 
troverts, no  one  questions  their  right  to  the 
royal  favours.  And  why  should  we  sus- 
pect the  validity  of  those  glorious  grant* 
which  are  made  by  the  everlasting  Sover- 
eign of  nature ;  which  he  has  also  ratified 
by  an  oath,  and  sealed  wiih.  the  blood  of  his 
Son  ?  Corporations  may  be  disfranchised, 
and  charters  revoked  ;  even  mountains  may 
be  removed,  and  stars  drop  from  their 
spheres ;  but  a  tenure  foiuided  on  the  di- 
vine promise  is  unaUenably  secure,  is  last- 
ing as  eternity  itself. 

We  have  endeavoured  to  spell  a  syllable 
of  the  eternal  name  in  the  ancient  manu- 
script of  the  sky.  We  have  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  Almighty's  glory  from  the 
lustre  of  innumerable  stars.  But  would  we 
behold  aU  his  excellencies  pourtrayed  in  fidl 
perfection,  and  dra\vn  to  the  very  life  ;  let 
us  attentively  consider  the  Redeemer.  I 
observe  there  are  some  parts  of  the  firma- 
ment in  which  the  stars  seem  as-it  were  ta 
cluster.  They  are  so\\ti  thicker,  they  lie 
closer  than  usual,  and  strike  the  eye  with 
redoubled  splendour.  Like  the  jewels  on 
a  crown,  they  mingle  their  beams,  and  re- 
flect an  increase  of  brilliancy  on  each  other. 
Is  there  not  such  an  assemblage,  such  a  con- 
stellation of  the  divine  honours,  most  amia- 
bly effidgent  in  the  blessed  Jesus  ? 

Does  not  infinite  wisdomf  shine,  with  sur- 
passing brightness,  in  Christ  ?  To  the  mak- 
ing of  a  world  there  was  no  obstacle  ;  but 
to  the  sa>ang  of  man,  there  seemed  to  be 
insurmountable  bars.  If  the  rebel  is  suf- 
fered to  escape,  where  is  the  inflexible  jus- 
tice which  denounces  death  as  the  wages  of 
sin  ?  If  the  offender  is  thoroughly  pai'doned, 
where  is  the  inviolable  veracity  which  has 
solemnly  declared,  "  The  soul  that  sinneth 
shall  die  ?"  These  awful  attributes  are  set 
in  terrible  array,  and,  like  an  impenetrable 
battalion,  oppose  the  salvation  of  apostate 
mankind.  'Who  can  suggest  a  method  to. 
absolve  the  traitorous  race,  yet  \andicate  the 
honours  of  almighty  sovereignty  ?  This  is 
an  intricacy  which  the  most  exalted  of  fui- 
ite  intelligencies  are  imable  to  clear.  But 
behold  the  imsearchable  secret  revealed  ! 


If  these  fail, 

The  pillared  firmament  is  rottenness. 

And  earth's  base  built  on  stubble. 

Milton'n  Comug. 
t  See  tlie  next  note. 


ON  THE   STARRY  HEAVENS. 


II. 5 


revealed  in  the  wondert'iJ  redemption  accom- 
plished by  a  dying  Savioiu- !  so  plainly  re- 
vealed, that,  "  he  who  rnns  may  read,"  and 
even  babes  nnderstand  what  minds  of  the 
deepest  penetration  coidd  not  contrive.  The 
Son  of  God,  taking  our  nature,  obeys  the 
law,  and  undergoes  death  in  our  stead.  By 
this  means,  the  threatened  curse  is  executed 
in  all  its  rigour,  and  free  grace  is  exercised 
in  all  its  riches.  Justice  miuntains  her 
rights,  and  with  a  steady  hand  administers 
impartial  vengeance  ;  while  mercy  dispenses 
her  pardons,  and  welcomes  the  repentant 
criminal  with  the  tenderest  embraces. 
Hereby  the  seemingly  thwarting  attributes 
are  reconciled  ;  the  sinner  is  saved  not  on- 
ly in  full  consistence  with  the  honour  of 
the  supreme  perfections,  but  to  the  most 
illustrious  manifestation  of  them  all. 

Where  does  the  divine  power*  so  signally 
exert  itself  as  in  the  cross  of  Christ,  and  in 
the  conquests  of  grace  ?  Our  Lord,  i«  his 
lowest  state  of  humiliation,  gained  a  more 
glorious  victory  than  v.'hen,  through  the  di- 
viding sea,  and  the  waste  howling  wilder- 
ness, "  he  rode  upon  his  chariots  and  horses 
of  salvation."  When  his  hands  were  rivet- 
ted  with  irons  to  the  bloody  tree,  he  dis- 
armed death  of  its  sting,  and  plucked  the 
prey  from  the  jaws  of  heU.  Then,  even 
then,  while  he  was  crucified  in  weakness, 
he  vanquished  the  strong  man,  and  subdued 
oiu"  most  formidable  enemies.  Even  then 
he  spoiled  principalities,  triumphed  over  the 
powers  of  darkness,  and  led  cajjtivity  cap- 
tive. Now  he  is  exidted  to  his  heavenly 
throne,  with  what  a  prevailing  efficacy  does 
Lis  grace  go  forth  "  conquering  and  to  con- 
quer !"  By  this  the  slaves  of  sin  are  res- 
cued from  their  bondage,  and  restored  to 
the  liberty  of  righteousness.  By  this  de- 
praved wretches,  whose  appetites  were  sen- 
sual, and  their  dispositions  devilish,  are 
not  only  renewed,  but  renewed  after  the 
image  of  God,  and  made  partakers  of  a  di- 
vine nature.  Millions,  millions  of  lost 
creatures  are  snatched,  by  the  interposition 
of  grace,  like  brands  from  the  burning  ;  and, 
translated  into  everlasting  mansions,  shine 
brighter  than  the  stars,  shine  bright  as  the 
sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father. 

Would  you,  then,  see  an  incomparably 
more  bright  dis])lay  of  the  divine  excellence 
than  the  spotted  firmament,  the  spangles  of 
heaven,  or  the  golden  fountain  of  day  ex- 
hibit ?  Contemplate  Jesus  of  Nazareth ! 
He  is  the  brightness  of  his  fiither's  glory,  and 
the  express  image  of  his  person.  In  his  im- 
maculate nature,  in  his  heavenly  temper,  in 


*  Christ,  the  wisdom  of  God,  and  the  power  of 
God.  1  Cor.  i  24.  To  the  intent  that  now,  unto  (he 
principahtics  and  powers  in  heavenly  places,  might 
be  known  by  the  cluir(!i,  (by  the  amazing  contrivance 
and  accomplishment  of  its  redemption,  the  deep,)  ex- 
tensive, and  greatly  diversified  wisdom  of  God.  Eph. 
iii.  10. 


his  most  holy  life,  the  moral  perfections  of 
the  Deity  are  represented  to  the  highest  ad- 
vantage.* Hark !  how  mercy  v.ith  her 
charming  voice  speaks  in  all  he  utters.  See 
how  benevolence  pours  her  choicest  stores, 
in  idl  he  does.  Did  ever  conipasslo;i  i;;': 
so  amiably  soft,  as  in  those  pitying  tear^  which 
swelled  his  eyes,  and  trickled  down  his 
cheeks,  to  bedew  the  rancour  of  his  invete- 
rate enemies  ?  Was  it  possible  for  patience 
to  assume  a  form  so  lovely,  as  that  svi'cetly- 
winning  conduct,  which  bore  the  contradic- 
tion of  sinners  ?  which  intreated  the  obstinate 
to  be  reconciled  ;  besought  the  guilty  not 
to  die  ?  In  other  things,  we  may  find  some 
scattered  rays  of  Jehovah's  glory ;  but  in 
Christ  they  are  all  collected  and  united,  in 
Christ  they  beam  forth  with  the  strongest 
radiance,  with  the  most  delightful  eiTul- 
gence.  Out  of  Sion,  and  in  Sion's  great 
Redeemer,  hath  God  appeiu-ed  in  perfect 
beauty. 

Search  then,  my  soid,  above  all  other 
pursuits,  search  the  records  of  redeeming 
love.  Let  these  be  the  principal  objects  of 
thy  study.  Here  employ  thyself  with  the 
most  unwearied  assiduity  :  In  these  are  hid 
all  tlie  treasures  of  wisdom  and  kno\\ledge  :f 
Such  wisdom  as  charms  and  astonishes  the 
very  angels,  engages  their  closest  attention, 
and  fills  them  with  the  deepest  adoration  ;  j 
such  knowledge,  as  qualifies  the  possessor, 
if  not  for  offices  of  dignity  on  earth,  yet  for 
the  most  honourable  advancements  in  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  Disunited  from  \vhich 
knowledge,  all  application  is  but  elaborate 
impertinence  ;  and  all  science  no  better 
than  pompous  ignorance.  These  records 
contain  the  faultless  model  of  duty,  and  the 
noblest  motives  to  obedience.      Nothing  so 


*  In  this  sense,  that -aying  of  our  Lord  is  eminent- 
ly true,  "  lie  that  hath  seen  me,  hath  seen  the  ia- 
ther ;"    John  xiv.  9. 

t  Col.  li.  3.  Not  a  mean  degree,  but  a  treasure ; 
not  one  treasure,  but  many;  not  many  only,  but  all 
treasures  of  true  wisdom  and  saving  knowledge,  are 
in  Christ  and  his  glcrious  gospel.  The  transcendent 
excellency  of  those  treasures  seems  to  be  finely  inti- 
matetlin  that  expression,  l,id  ;  which  may  be  interpre- 
ted by  the  Hebrew,  Job  iii.  21,  laid  up  with  the  ut- 
most care,  and  the  greatest  safety :  Not  left,  at  all  ad- 
ventures, to  be  stumbled  upon  by  every  giddy  wan- 
derer, orto  fall  into  the  arms  of  the  yawning  sluggard, 
but,  likejewelsofthebrightest  lustre,  orriches  or  the 
highest  value,  kept  in  store  to  adorn  andreward  the 
diligent  searcher. 

%  This,  I  believe,  is  the  import  of  the  apostle's 
language,  though  it  is  not  a  literal  translation  of  1 
Pet.  i.  12.  I  never  had  such  a  lively  apprehension 
of  the  beautiful  significancy  of  the  last  word,  as  when 
I  have  attended  a  dissection  of  some  part  of  the  ani- 
mal body.  In  order  to  discern  the  minutiae  of  the 
admirable  frame,  the  latent  wonders  of  art  and  me- 
chanism, the  eye  is  so  shari)ened,  and  its  application 
so  intensely  bended,  as  gives  a  very  just  experi- 
mental comment  on  that  expressive  phrase.  With 
such  earnest  attention  is  the  everlasting  gospel  con- 
templated by  the  angelic  orders.  How  much  more, 
if  it  were  iiossible,  does  it  deserve  the  devout  and  in- 
cessant C(ln.^ill^  ration  of  human  minds  !  Since  by 
them,  it  is  not  only  to  !»  speculated  as  a  bright  and 
ravishing  display  of  the  divine  attributes,  but  to  be 
applied  to  thtir  fallen  nature  as  a  most  benign 
scheme  of  recovering  grace ;  as  the  sure  and  only  me- 
thod of  obtaining  lite  and  immortality. 


UG 


eONTEMPLATIONS 


])Owerful  to  work  a  Iholy  faith  and  a  joyful 
hope,  as  an  attentive  consideration  of  our 
Lord's  unutterable  merits.  Nothing  so  so- 
vereign to  antidote  the  pestilential  intiuence 
of  the  world,  and  deliver  our  affections 
from  a  slavery  to  igiiohle  objects,  as  an  ha- 
bitual remembrance  of  his  extreme  agonies. 
The  genuine,  the  ever-fruitful  source  of  all 
morality,  is  the  unfeigned  love  of  Christ; 
and  the  <-ross,*  the  cross  is  the  appointed 
altar,  from  which  we  may  fetch  a  coalj-  to 
kindle  this  sacred  fire. 

Behold,  therefore,  the  man  !  the  match- 
less and  stupendous  man  !  whose  practice 
was  a  ]jattern  of  the  most  exalted  virtue, 
and  his  person  the  mirror  of  every  divine 
perfection.  Examine  the  memoirs  of  his 
heavenly  temper  and  exemplary  conversa- 
tion. Contemplate  that  choir  of  graces 
which  were  associated  in  his  mind,  and  shed 
the  highest  lustre  on  all  his  actions.  Fa- 
miliarize to  thy  thoughts  his  instructive  dis- 
courses, and  enter  into  the  very  sjiirit  of  his 
refined  doctrines ;  that  the  graces  may  be 
transfused  into  thy  breast,  and  the  doctrines 
transcribed  in  thy  life.  Follow  him  to 
Calvary's  horrid  eminence  !  to  Calvary's  fat^l 
catastrophe  !  where  innocence,  dignity,  and 
merit,  were  made  perfect  through  suffer- 
ings ;  each  shining,  with  all  possible  splen- 
dour, through  the  tragical  scene  ;  somewhat 
like  his  owai  radiant  bow,  then  glowing 
with  the  greatest  beauty  when  appearing  in 
the  darkest  cloud.  Be  thy  most  constant 
attention  fixed  on  that  lovely  and  sorrow- 
ful spectacle.  Behold  the  spotless  victim 
nailed  to  the  tree,  and  stabbed  to  the  heart. 
Hear  him  poming  out  prayers  for  his  miu-- 
derers,  before  he  poured  out  his  soul  for 
transgressors.  See  the  vv'ounds  that  stream 
with  forgiveness,  and  bleed  balm  for  a  dis- 
tempered world.  O  !  see  the  justice  of 
the  Almighty  and  his  goodness  ;  his  mercy 
and  his  vengeance  ;  every  tremendous  and 
gracious  attribute  manifested — manifested 
with  inexpressible  glory  in  that  most  igno- 
minious, yet  grandest  of  transactions. 

Since  God  is  so  inconceivably  great  as 
these  his  marvellous  works  declare  ; 

Since  the  great  Sov'reign  sends  ten  thousand  worlds, 
To  tell  us,  he  resides  above  them  all. 
In  glory's  unapproachable  recess;:}; 


»  "  And  I,"  says  our  Lord,  "  if  I  be  lifted  up  from 
the  earth,  and  extended  on  the  cross,  will  draw  all 
men  unto  me ;"  will  give  such  a  rich  and  transcend- 
ent display  of  my  love,  as  shall  constitute  the  most 
powerful  and  prevaihng  attractive  of  theirs.  John 
xii.  32. 

+  Alluding  to  Isaiah  vi.  6. 

t  For  this  quotation,  and  several  valuable  hints, 
I  acknowledge  myself  in'lebted  to  those  beautiful  and 
sublime  poems,  entitled  Wight  Thoughts  ;  of  which 
I. shall  only  say,  that  1  receive  fresh  pleasure  and 
richer  improvement  from  every  renewed  perusal. 
And  I  think  I  shall  have  reason  to  bless  the  indul- 
gent Bestowerof  all  wisdom,  for  th  -se  instructive  and 
animating  compositions,  even  in  ray  last  moments: 
than  which  nothing  can  more  emphatically  speak 
their  superior  excellence,  nor  give  a  more  solid  satis- 
£actioa  to  their  worthy  Author.    Happy  should  I 


how  can  we  forbetir  hastenii^g,  witli  Moses 
bowing  om'selves  to  the  earth,  and  worshij>- 
ping !  O  !  what  an  honourable,  as  well  a.-; 
advantageous  employ,  is  prayer  ! — Advan- 
tageous :  By  ])r.tyer,  we  cultivate  that  inr<- 
proving  correspondence  with  Jehovah,  we 
carry  on  that  ghuidening  intercoiu"se  with 
his  spirit,  which  must  begin  here,   in  order 

to  be  completed  in  eternity Honourable  : 

By  prayer,  we  have  access  to  that  mighty 
Potentate,  whose  sceptre  sways  univer.sal 
nature,  and  whose  rich  regalia  tills  the  skies 
with  lustre.  Praj"er  places  us  in  his  pre» 
sence-chamber ;  while  the  blood  of  spriiik,- 
ling  procures  us  a  gracious  audience. 

Shall  I  then  blush  to  be  found  prostrate 
before  the  throne  of  grace  ?  Shall  I  be 
ashamed  to  have  it  known  that  I  offer  up  so- 
cial supplications  in  the  family,  or  am  con- 
scientious in  observing  my  private  retire- 
ments ?  Rather  let  me  glory  in  this  un- 
speakable privilege.  Let  me  reckon  i-t  the 
noblest  posture,  to  fall  low  on  my  knees  be- 
fore his  footstool ;  and  the  highest  honoiu', 
to  enjoy  communion  with  his  most  exalted 
Majesty :  Incomparably  more  noble,  than 
to  sit  in  person  on  the  triumphal  chariot, 
or  to  stand  in  effigy  amidst  the  temple  of 
worthies. 

Most  inestimable,  in  such  a  view,  is  that 
promise,  which  so  often  occurs  in  the  pro- 
phetic writings,  and  is  the  crowning  benefit 
of  the  new  covenant,  I  will  he  thy  God, 
(Heb.  viii.  10.)  Will  this  supremely  ex- 
cellent and  almighty  Being  vouchsafe  to  be 
my  portion  ?  to  settle  upon  a  poor  sinner, 
not  the  heritage  of  a  country,  not  the  pos- 
session of  the  whole  earth,  but  his  own 
ever- blessed  self?  May  I,  then,  through  his 
free  condescending  grace,  and  the  iniknovvn 
merits  of  his  Son,  look  upon  all  these  in* 
finitely  noble  attributes  as  my  treasure  ? 
May  I  regard  the  wisdom  which  superin- 
tends such  a  multitude  of  worlds,  as  my 
guide  ?  the  power  which  produced  and  pre- 
serves them  in  existence,  as  my  guard  ?  the 
goodness  which,  by  an  endless  communica- 
tion of  favours,  renders  them  all  so  many, 
habitations  of  happiness,  as  my  exceeding 
great  reward  ?  What  a  finid  of  felicity  is 
included  in  such  a  blessing !  How  often 
does  the  Israelitish  prince  exult  in  the  as- 
surance, that  this  unutterable  and  boimd- 
less  good  ii  his  own  !  Interested  in  this,  he 
bids  defiance  to  every  evil  that  can  be  dread- 
ed, and  rests  in  certain  expectation  of  every 
blessing  that  can  be  desired.  "  The  Lord 
is  my  light  and  my  salvation  ;  whom  then 
shall  I  tear  ?  The  Lord,"  with  an  air  of  ex- 
ultation he  repeats  both  his  affiance  and  his 


think  myself,  if  these  little  sketches  of  o  mtempiati  ve 
devotion  might  be  honoured  with  the  most  inferior 
degree  of  the  same  success;  might  receive  a  testi- 
mony, not  from  the  voice  of  fame,  but  from.  tli& 
dying  lips  of  some  ediiiied  Christian. 


ON  THE   STABRY   HEAVENS. 


117 


t^allenge,  "  U  the  strength  of  my  lift  ;  of 
whom  then  shall  I  be  afraid  ?"  ( Ps-alm 
xxvii.  1 . )  Nothing  so  effectual  as  this  ap- 
propriating faith,  to  inspire  a  dignity  of 
mind  superior  to  transitory  trifles ;  or  to 
create  a  calmness  of  temper  unalanned  by  \nil- 
gar  fears,  unappalled  by  death  itself.  "  The 
Lord  is  my  Shepherd,"  says  the  same  tru- 
■ly  gallant  and  heroic  pereonage ;  "  there- 
Ibre shall  I  lack  nothing."  (Psalm  xxiii.  1.) 
Mow  is  it  possible  he  should  suffer  want, 
Mho  has  the  all-sufficient  fulness  for  his 
supply  ?  So  long  as  unerring  wisdom  is  ca- 
pable of  contriving  the  means,  so  long  as 
uncontrollable  power  is  able  to  execute 
them,  such  a  one  cannot  fail  of  being  safe 
and  happy,  whether  he  contimie  amidst  the 
vicissitudes  of  time,  or  depart  into  the  un- 
changeable eternity. 

Here  let  us  stand  a  moment,  and  humbly 
contemplate  this  great  God,  together  with 
ourselves,  in  a  relative  view.  If  we  re- 
ih'ct  on  the  works  of  material  nature,  their 
iniiiiber  incomprehensible,  and  their  ex- 
tent unmeasurable  ;  each  of  tliem  apart  so 
admirably  framed,  the  connexions  of  the 
whole  so  exquisitely  regulated,  and  all  de- 
rived from  one  and  the  same  glorious  agent : 
if  we  recollect  the  far  more  noble  accom- 
plishments of  elegant  taste  and  discerning 
judgment,  of  refined  affections  and  exalted 
sentiments,  which  are  to  be  found  among 
the  several  orders  of  intelligent  existence  ; 
and  all  of  them  flowing,  in  rich  emanations, 
from  the  one  sole  fountain  of  intellectual 
Hght :  if  we  farther  consider  this  Author  of 
material  beauty  and  moral  excellency,  as  a 
Ouardian,  a  Governor,  and  Benefactor  to  all 
his  creatures  ;  supporting  the  whole  system, 
and  protecting  each  individual  by  an  ever- 
watchful  jirovidence,  presiding  over  the 
minutest  affairs,  and  causing  all  events  to 
terminate  in  the  most  extensive  good  ; 
heaping,  with  unremitted  liberality,  his  be- 
nefits upon  every  capable  object,  and  mak- 
ing tlie  circuit  of  the  universe  a  seminary 
of  hajjpiness  :  is  it  possible  for  the  human 
heart,  under  such  captivating  views,  to  be 
indifferent  towards  this  most  benign,  most 
bountiful  original  of  being  and  of  bliss  ? 
Can  any  be  so  immersed  in  stupidity,  as  to 
say  unto  the  Almighty — in  the  language  of 
an  irreligious  temper  and  licentious  life,  to 
say  "  Depart  from  us,  we  implore  not  thy 
favour,  nor  desire  the  knowledge  of  thy 
Avays  ?"  Wonder,  O  heavens  !  be  amazed, 
O  earth  !  and  let  the  inhabitants  of  both 
express  their  astonishment  at  this  unparal- 
k^led  complication  of  disingenuous,  ungrate- 
ful, destructive  perverseness  ! 

If  we  consider  our  fidlen  and  imperfect 
state — frail  in  our  bodies  ;  enfeebled  in  our 
minds  ;  in  every  part  of  our  constitution, 
and  in  all  the  occurrences  of  life,  "  like  a 
ixitterijig  wall,  or  a  broken  hedge :"     If  we 


survey  our  indigent  and  infirm  state — with- 
out holiness,  without  spiritual  strength,  our 
possessi<m  of  present  conveniences  entirely 
dependent  on  God's  sovereign  pleasure  ; 
yea,  forfeited,  justly  forfeited,  with  every 
future  hope,  by  a  thousand  aggravated  ini- 
quities :  If  we  add  the  various  disasters  of 
om-  condition — agitated  as  we  are  by  tu- 
multuous passions  ;  oppressed  with  dispi- 
riting fears  ;  held  in  suspense  by  a  variety 
of  perplexing*  cares  ;  liable  to  pains,  and 
exposed  to  troubles ;  troubles  from  every 
quarter,  troubles  of  every  kind  :  Can  we, 
amidst  so  many  wants,  under  such  deplora- 
ble infirmities,  and  subject  to  such  disastrous 
accidents  ;  can  we  be  unconcerned  whether 
God's  omnipotent,  irresistible,  all-conduct- 
ing hand  be  against  us,  or  for  us  ?  Imagin- 
ation itself  shudders  at  the  thought !  Can 
we  rest  satisfied,  without  a  well-grounded 
persuasion,  that  we  are  reconciled  to  this 
supreme  Lord,  and  the  objects  of  his  un- 
changeable goodness  ?  If  there  be  an  aban- 
doned wretch,  whose  apprehensions  are  so 
fatally  blinded,  who  is  so  utterly  lost  to  all 
sense  of  his  duty  and  of  his  interest  ;  let 
me  bewail  his  misery,  while  I  abhor  liis  im- 
piety— bewail  his  misery,  though  populari- 
ty, with  her  choicest  laiu-els,  adoni  his 
brow  ;  though  afHucnce,  with  her  richest 
delicacies,  load  his  table  ;  though  half  a  na- 
tion, or  half  a  world,  conspire  to  call  him 
happy. 

May  I,  by  a  belicAnng  application,  solace 
myself  in  this  everlasting  source  of  love, 
perfection  and  joy  !  Grant  me  this  request, 
and  I  ask  no  more.  Only  that  I  may  ex- 
pect, not  Anth  a  reluctant  anxiety,  but  with 
a  ready  cheerfulness,  the  arrival  of  that  im- 
portant hour,  when  this  veil  of  fiesh  sliall 
dtop,  and  the  shadows  of  mortality  flee 
away ;  when  I  shall  no  longer  complain  of 
obscure  knowledge,  languid  affections,  and 
imperfect  fruition  ;  but  shall  see  the  un- 
created and  immortal  majesty — see  him,  not 
in  this  distant  and  unaffected  method,  of 
reasoning  from  his  works,  but  with  the  most 
clear  and  direct  intuition  of  the  mind  : 
when  I  shall  love  him,  not  with  a  cold  and 


*  Perplexing~-Those  vihoread  theoriginal  language 
of  the  New  Testament,  are  sufficiently  apprisea,  that 
such  is  the  significancy  of  that  benevolent  dissuasive, 
urged  by  our  Lord,  Matth.  vi.  SS.  I  beg  leave,  for 
the  sake  of  the  unlearned  reader,  to  obser\e,  that  our 
translation,  though  for  the  most  part  faithful  and 
excellent,  has  here  misrepresented  our  divine  Mas- 
ter's meaning.  Take  no  thought  fbr  your  food,  for 
your  raiment,  for  your  bodily  welfare,  is  not  only  not 
the  true  sense,  but  the  very  reverse  of  this  scriptural 
doctrine.  We  are  required  to  take  a  prudent  and  mo- 
derate thought  for  the  necessaries  of  life.  The 
sluggard,  who  neglects  this  decent  precaution,  is  se- 
verely reprimanded  ;  is  sent  to  one  of  the  meanest  ani- 
mals, to  blush  for  his  folly,  and  learn  discretion  from 
her  conduct,  Prov.  vi.  fi.  Our  .Saviour's  precept, and 
the  exact  sense  of  liis  expression,  is.  Take  no  anxious 
thought  ;  indulge  no  peqilexing  care;  no  such  care 
.IS  may  argue  an  unreasonable  distrust  of  Providence, 
or  may  rend  and  tear  your  minds  with  distressing, 
with  pernicious  si'lici tilde- 


118 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


contractcij  spirit,  but  with  the  most  lively 
and  enlarged  emotions  of  gratititude  :  when 
I  shall  incessantly  enjoy  the  light  of  his 
countenance,  and  be  united,  inseparably  unit- 
ed, to  his  all-glorious  Godhead.  Take,  ye 
ambitious,  unenvied  and  unopposed,  take 
to  yourselves  the  toys  of  state.  May  I  be 
enabled  to  rejoice  in  this  blessed  hope,  and 
to  triumph  in  that  amiable,  that  adorable, 
tliat  delightful  name,  the  Lord  my  God  ! 
And  I  shall  scarce  bestow  a  thought  on  the 
Fplendid  pageantry  of  the  world,  unless  it 
be  to  despise  its  empty  pomp,  and  to  pity 
its  deluded  admirers. 

All  these  bodies,  though  immense  in 
their  size,  and  almost  infinite  in  their  mul- 
titude, are  obedient  to  the  divine  command. 
The  God  of  wisdom  "  telleth  their  luun- 
bers,"  and  is  intimately  acquainted  with 
their  various  properties.  The  God  of 
povvcr  "  calleth  them  all  by  their  names," 
and  assigns  them  whatsoever  office  he 
pleases.  He  marshalls  all  the  starry  le- 
gions, with  infinitely  greater  ease  and  nicer 
order,  than  the  most  expert  general  ar- 
ranges his  disciplined  troops.  He  appoints 
their  posts,  he  marks  their  route,  he  fixes 
the  time  for  their  return  :  The  posts  which 
he  appoints,  they  occupy  without  fail ;  in 
the  route,  which  he  settles,  they  persevere 
without  the  least  deviation  ;  and  to  the  in- 
stant,* Wiiich  he  fixes  for  their  return,  they 
are  precisely  punctual.  He  has  given  them 
a  law  which,  through  a  long  revolution  of 
ages,  shall  not  be  broken,  unless  his  sover- 
eign will  interposes  for  its  repeal.  Then, 
indeed,  the  motion  of  the  celestial  orbs  is 
controlled ;  their  action  remains  suspend- 
ed ;  or  their  intluence  receives  a  new  direc- 
tion  The   sun,     ac   his    creation,    issued 

forth  v.ith  a  command  to  travel  perpetually 
through  the  heavens  ;  since  which  he  has 
never  neglected  to  perform  the  great  circuit, 
"  rejoicing  as  a  giant  to  run  his  race."  But, 
when  it  is  requisite  to  accomplish  the  pur- 
poses of  dinne  love,  the  orders  are  counter- 
manded ;  the  flaming  courier  remits  his 
crircer,  stands  still  in  Gibeon  ;t  and,  for  the 
ccnveniency  of  the  chosen  people,  holds 
back  the  falling  day.  The  moon  was  dis- 
jKitched  with  a  charge,  never  to  intermit  her 
revolving  course  till  day  and  night  come  to 
an  end  :  Eut,  when  the  children  of  Provi- 
f'ence  are  to  be  favoured  with  an  uncom- 
mon continuance  of  light,  she  halts  in  her 
march,  makes  a  solemn  pause  in  the  valley 


*  "  Thp  pipnets  and  all  the  innumerable  host  of 
hcnvcrsly  bodies,  iierfomn  their  courses  and  revolu- 
fioi!s  with  so  much  certainty  and  exactness,  as  never 
once  to  fail ;  but,  for  almost  CIMM)  years,  come  con- 
stantly about  to  the  same  period,  m  the  hundredth 
part  of  a  minute.  '—Stackhoiise's  Histnvi/cfthe  Blhle. 
t  This  is  spoken  in  conformity  to  the  .Scripture 
language.  ai..i  according  to  the  conimor,  notion.  With 
respect  to  the  power  wJiich  affected  the  alteration,  it 
is  inuch  the  s.^me  thing,  and  alilie  miraculous,  whe- 
ther the  sun  or  the  earth  be  supposed  to  move. 


of  Ajal-on,*  and  delays  to  bring  on  her  at- 
tendant train  of  shadows.  When  the  ene- 
mies of  the  Lord  are  to  be  discomfited,  the 
stars  are  levied  into  the  service  ;  the  stai's 
are  armed,  and  take  the  field  ;  the  stars,  in 
their  courses,  fought  against  Siserd.f 

So  dutiful  is  material  nature  !  so  obse- 
quious in  all  her  forms  to  her  Creator's 
pleasure  !  The  bellowing  thunders  listen  to 
his  voice  ;  and  the  voUied  lightnings  ob- 
serve the  direction  of  his  eye.  The  flying 
storm  and  impetuous  whirlwind  wear  his 
yoke.  The  raging  waves  revere  his  nod  ; 
they  shake  the  earth,  they  dash  the  skies, 
yet  never  oflfer  to  pass  the  limits  which  he 
has  prescribed.  Even  the  planetary  spheres, 
though  vastly  larger  than  this  wide  extend- 
ed e.irtli,  are  in  his  hand  as  clay  in  the 
hands  of  the  potter.  Though  swifter  than 
the  northern  blast,  they  sweep  the  long 
tracts  of  ether;  yet  are  they  guided  by  his 
reins,  and  execute  whatever  he  enjoins. 
All  those  enormous  globes  of  central  fire, 
which  beam  through  the  boundless  azure, 
in  comparison  of  which,  an  army  of  planets 
were  like  a  swarm  of  summer-insects  ; 
those,  even  those,  are  conformable  to  his 
will ;  as  the  melting  wax  to  the  impressed 
seal. 

Since  all — all  is  obedient  throughout  the 
whole  ascent  of  tilings,  shall  man  be  the  on- 
ly rebel  against  the  almighty  IMaker  ?  Shall 
these  unruly  appetites  reject  his  govern- 
ment, and  refuse  their  allegiance  ?  Shall 
these  headstrong  passions  break  loose  from 
divine  restraint,  and  run  wild  in  exorbitant 
sallies  after  their  ova\  imaginations. 

O  my  soul  I  be  stung  with  remorse,  and 
overwhelmed  with  confusion,  at  the  thought ! 
Is  it  not  a  righteous  thing  that  the  blessed 
God  should   sway   the  sceptre,   with   the 


*  Josh.  X.  12,13.  The  prophet  Habbakkuk,  ac- 
cording to  his  lofty  manner,  celebrates  this  event  ; 
and  points  out  in  very  poetical  diction,  the  design  of 
so  surprising  a  miracle.  The  sun  and  moon  stood 
still  in  their  habitation  ;  in  the  light,  the  long  con- 
tinued and  miraculous  light,  thy  arrows,  edged  with 
destruction,  walked  on  their  awful  errand;  in  the 
clear  shining  of  the  day,  protracted  for  this  very  pur- 
pose, thy  glittering  spear,  launched  by  thy  people, 
but  guided  by  thy  hand,  sprung  to  its  prey.  Hab. 
iii.  11. 

t  Judg.  V.  20.  The  scriptural  phrase,  fought 
nf^ahist,  will,  I  hope,  be  a  proper  warrant  for  every 
expression  I  have  used  on  this  occasion.  The  pas- 
sage is  generally  supposed  to  signify,  that  some  very 
dreadful  meteors  (which  the  stars  were  thought  to  in- 
fluence,) such  as  fierce  flashes  of  lightning,  impetuous 
showers  of  rain,  and  rapid  storms  of  hail,  were  cm- 
ployed  by  the  .-Mmighty  to  terrify,  annoy,  and  over- 
throw the  enemies  of  Israel.  If  so,  there  cannot  be  a 
more  clear  and  lively  paraphrase  on  the  text,  than 
these  fine  lines  of  a  Jewish  writer.  "  His  severe 
nTath  shall  he  sharpen  for  a  sword :  and  the  world 
shall  fight  with  him  against  the  ungodly.  Then  .shall 
the  right-aiming  thunderbolts  go  abroad,  and  from 
the  clouds,  as  from  a  well-drawn  bovj,  shall  they  fly 
to  the  mark.  And  hail-stones  full  of  wrath  shall  be 
cast  out  of  a  stone  bow ;  and  the  water  of  the  sea 
.shall  rage  against  them  ;  and  the  floods  (as  was  the 
case  of  the  river  Kishon)  shall  cruelly  drown  them. 
Vea,  a  mighty  wind  sh.^Il  stand  up  against  them; 
and,  like  a  stonn,  shall  blow  them  away.  Wisd.  v. 
20—23. 


ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


119 


most  absolute  authority,  over  all  the  crea- 
tures which  his  power  has  formed?  especi- 
ally over  those  creatures  whom  his  distin- 
giiishin^j  favour  has  endued  with  the  noble 
principle  of  reason,  and  made  capable  of  a 
blissful  immortality?  Sure,  if  all  the  ranks 
of  inanimate  existence  conform  to  their 
Maker's  decree,  by  the  necessity  of  their 
nature,  this  more  excellent  race  of  beings 
should  pay  their  equal  liomajje  by  the  will- 
ing compliance  of  their  affections.  •  Come, 
then,  all  ye  faculties  of  my  mind  ;  come,  all 
ye  powers  of  my  body  ;  give  up  yourselves, 
without  a  moment's  delay,  without  the  least 
reserve,  to  his  governance.  Stand  like  du- 
tiful serv'ants  at  his  footstool,  in  an  ever- 
lasting readiness  to  do  whatsoever  ho  re- 
quires ;  to  be  whatsoever  he  appoints  ;  to 
further,  with  united  efforts,  the  purposes  of 
his  glory  in  this  earthly  scene  ;  or  else  to 
separate,  without  reluctance,  at  his  sum- 
mous  — the  one  to  sleep  in  the  silent  dust ; 
the  other,  to  advance  his  honour  in  some 
remoter  colony  of  his  kingdom.  Thus  may 
I  join  with  all  the  works  of  the  Lord,  in  all 
places  of  his  dominion,  to  recognise  his  uni- 
versal supremacy,  and  proclaim  him  Sove- 
reign of  souls  as  well  as  Ruler  of  worlds. 

At  my  first  coming  abroad,  all  these  lu- 
minaries were  eclipsed  by  the  overpowering 
lustre  of  the  sun.  They  were  all  placed 
in  the  very  same  stations,  and  played  the 
«ame  sprightly  beams  ;  yet  not  one  of  them 
was  seen.  As  the  daylight  wore  away, 
and  the  sober  shades  advanced,  Hesperus, 
who  leads  the  starry  train,  disclosed  his 
radiant  forehead,  and  catched  my  eye. 
"While  I  stood  gazing  on  his  bright  and 
beautiful  aspect,  several  of  his  attendants 
j)eeped  through  the  blue  curtains.  Scarce 
liad  I  turned  to  observe  these  fresh  emana- 
tiinis  of  splendour,  but  others  dropt  the 
veil,  others  stole  into  view.  When,  lo  ! 
faster  and  more  numerous,  multitudes 
■sprung  from  obscurity  ;  they  poured,  in 
shining  troops,  and  in  sweet  confusion,  over 
all  the  empyrean  plain,  till  the  firmament 
f^eeme'd  like  one  vast  constellation,  and  a 
flood  of  gloiy  burst  from  all  the  skies. 


•  This  argument,  1  acknowledge,  is  not  absolutely 
^ronclusive,  but  it  is  popular  and  striking.  Nor  can 
I  think  myself  obliged  in  such  a  work,  where  fancy 
bears  a  considerable  sway,  to  proceed  always  with  the 
caution  and  exactness  of  a  disputer  in  the  schools. 
If  there  be  some  appearance  of  analogy  between  the 
fact  and  the  inference,  it  seems  sufficient  for  my  pur- 
)iose,  though  the  deduction  should  not  be  necessary, 
nor  the  process  strictly  syllogistical.  One  of  the 
apostolic  fathers  has  an  affecting  and  sublime  para- 
graph, which  runs  entirely  in  this  fonn:  "  The  sun, 
the  moon,  and  the  starry  choir,  williout  the  least  de- 
viation, and  with  the  utmost  harmony,  perform  the 
revolutions  appointed  them  by  the  su))reme  decrfe." 
From  which  remark,  and  abundance  of  other  similar 
instances  observable  in  the  economy  of  nature,  he 
exhorts  Christians  to  a  cordial  unanimity  an'.ong 
themselves,  and  a  dutiful  obedience  to  (iod.  I'hL 
Clem.  Roman.  1.  Eph.  ad  Corinth,  Sect.  20.  Sec  also 
,1  beautiful  Ode  in  Dr.  Watt's  lyric  poems,  entitled 
the  Comparison  and  Complaint,  v/incii  turns  upon 
tljis  very  thought. 


Is  not  such  the  rise,  and  such  the  pro- 
gress of  a  true  conversion  in  the  prejudiced 
infidel,  or  inattentive  sinner?  During  the 
period  of  his  vainer  years,  a  thousand  inter- 
esting truths  lay  utterly  undiscovered,  a 
thousand  momentous  concerns  were  en- 
tirely disregarded.  But  when  divine  grace 
dissipates  the  delusive  glitter  which  dazzled 
his  imderstanding  and  beguiled  his  affec- 
tions, then  he  begins  to  discern,  dimly  to 
discern,  the  things  which  belong  unto  his 
peace.  Some  admonition  of  scripture  darts 
conviction  into  his  soul,  as  the  glimmering 
of  a  star  pierces  the  gloom  of  night.  Then, 
perhaps,  another  awful  or  cheering  text 
impresses  terror  or  diff"ases  comfort.  A 
threatening  alarms  his  fears,  or  a  promise 
awakens  his  hopes.  This  possibly  is  suc- 
ceeded by  some  afflictive  dispensation  of 
providence,  and  improved  by  soiue  edi- 
f^'ing  and  instructive  conversation.  All 
which  is  established  as  to  its  continuance, 
and  enlarged  as  to  its  intluence,  by  a  dili- 
gent study  of  the  sacred  word.  By  this 
means,  new  truths  continually  pour  their 
evidence  ;  scenes  of  refined  and  exiilted, 
but  hitherto  unknown  delight,  address  him 
with  their  attractives.  New  desires  take 
wing ;  new  pursuits  are  set  on  foot.  A 
new  turn  of  mind  forms  his  temper  ;  a  new 
habit  of  conversation  regulates  his  life. 
In  a  word,  old  things  are  passed  away,  and 
all  things  become  new.  He  who  was 
sometime  darkness,  is  now  light,  and  life, 
and  joy  in  the  Lord. 

The  more  attentively  I  view  the  crystal 
concave,  the  more  fully  I  discern  the  riches 
of  its  decorations.  Abundance  of  minuter 
lights,  which  lay  concealed  from  a  sujteiii- 
cial  notice,  are  visible  on  a  closer  exainiiiii- 
tion ;  especially  in  those  tracts  of  tlie  sky, 
which  are  called  the  galaxy  ;  and  are  dis- 
tinguishable by  a  sort  of  milky  path.  There 
the  stars  are  crowded,  rather  than  dissemi- 
nated. The  regions  seem  to  be  all  on  a 
blaze,  with  their  blended  rays.  Besides 
this  vast  profusion,  which  in  my  present 
situation  the  eye  discovers,  were  I  to  make 
my  survey  from  any  other  part  of  the  globe, 
lying  near  the  southern  pole,  I  should  be- 
hold a  new  choir  of  starry  bodies,  which 
have  never  appeared  within  our  horizon. 
Was  I,  (which  is  still  more  wonderful,) 
cither  here  or  there,  to  view  tiie  firmametit 
with  the  virtuoso's  gliiss,  I  shciild  find  a 
prodigious  multitude  of  tlainingorbs,  which, 
immersed  in  de])ths  of  ether,  escape  the 
keenest  unassisted  sight.*  Yet,  in  these 
various  situations,  even  with  the  aid  of  the 


*  Come  forth,  O  man,  yon  azure  round  survey. 
And  view  those  lamps,  which  yield  eternal  day. 
I'ring  forth  thy  glasses;  clear  tliy  wond'ringeyes, 
Milliors  b;yond  the  former  millions  rise  ; 
Look  farther — millions  more  blaze  from  remoter 
skKs. 

iff  on  i!i,:fenious  poem,  entitled.  The  Universe. 


120 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


telescopic  tube,  I  sLoiild  not  be  able  to  des- 
cry the  half,  perhaps  not  a  thousandth  part 
of  those  majestic  luminaries,  which  the 
vast  expansive  heavens  contain.*  So,  the 
more  diligently  I  pursue  my  search  into 
those  oracles  of  eternal  tmth,  the  scriptures, 
I  perceive  a  wider,  a  deeper,  an  ever-in- 
creasing fund  of  spiritual  treasures.  I  per- 
ceive the  brighter  strokes  of  ^visdom,  and 
the  richer  displays  of  goodness  ;  a  more 
transcendent  excellency  in  the  illustrious 
Messiah,  and  a  more  deplorable  vileness  in 
fallen  man ;  a  more  immaculate  purity  in 
God's  law,  and  more  precious  privileges  in 
his  gospel ;  yet,  after  a  course  of  study 
ever  so  assiduous,  ever  so  prolonged,  I 
shoidd  have  reason  to  own  myself  a  mere 
babe  in  heavenly  knowledge,  or  at  most, 
but  a  puerile  proficient  in  the  school  of 
Christ. 

After  all  my  most  accurate  inspection, 
those  starry  orbs  appear  but  as  glittering 
points.  Even  the  planets,  though  so  much 
rearer  our  earthly  mansion,  seem  only  like 
burning  bullets.  If,  then,  we  have  such 
imperfect  apprehensions  of  visible  and  ma- 
terial things,  how  much  more  scanty  and 
inadequate  must  be  our  notions  of  in^^sible 
and  immortal  objects  !  We  behold  the  stars. 
Though  every  one  is  incomparably  bigger 
than  the  globe  we  inhabit,  yet  they  dwindle 
upon  our  survey  into  the  most  diminutive 
forms.  Thus  we  see  by  faith  the  glories 
of  the  blessed  .Tesus,  the  atoning  efficacy  of 
his  death,  the  justifying  merit  of  his  righte- 
ousness, and  the  joj's  which  are  resen'ed  for 
his  followers.  But,  alas  !  even  our  most 
exalted  ideas  are  vastly  below  the  truth  ;  as 
much  below  the  truth,  as  the  report  which 
our  eyes  make  of  those  celestial  edifices  is 
inferior  to  their  real  grandeur.  Should  we 
take  in  all  the  magnifying  assistances  which 
art  has  contrived,  those  luminous  bodies 
would  elude  our  skill,  and  appear  as  small 
as  ever.  Should  an  inhabitant  of  earth 
travel  towards  the  cope  of  heaven,  and  be 
carried  forwards,  in  his  aerial  journey,  more 
than  a  hundred  and  sixty  millions  of  miles  ;t 
even  in  that  advanced  situation,  those 
oceans  of  flame  would  look  no  larger  than 


*  How  noble,  considered  in  this  view,  are  the  cele- 
brations of  the  divine  Majestywhich  frequently  occur 
in  tlie  sacred  writings  !  It  is  the  Lord  that  madr  the 
lieavens.  Psalm  xcvi.  5.  What  a  prodigious  dignity 
does  such  a  sense  of  things  give  to  that  devout 
ascription  of  praise !  "  Thou,  even  thou,  art  Lord 
alone;  thou  hast  made  heaven,  the  jieaven  of  hea- 
vens with  all  their  host."  Neh.  ix.  G.  Examined  by 
this  rule,  the  beautiful  climax  in  our  inspired  hymn, 
is  sublime  beyond  compare!  "Praise  ye  him,  sun 
and  moon  ;  praise  him  all  ye  stars  of  light.;  praise 
him,  ye  heaven  of  heavens.    Psalm  cxlviii.  3,  4. 

t  Tnis,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  is  not  a  mere 
supposiLion,  but  a  real  fact.  For,  about  the  i'lst  of 
December,  we  are  above  ICO.OOO.OnO  of  miles  nearer 
the  nortliem  parts  of  the  sky,  than  we  are  on  2l3t  of 
June.  And  yet,  with  regard  to  the  stars  situate  in 
that  quarter,  we  perceive  no  change  in  their  aspect, 
nor  any  augmentation  of  their  magnitude. 


radiant  specks.  In  like  manner,  concefve 
ever  so  magnificently  of  the  Redeemer's 
honours,  and  of  the  bliss  which  he  has  pur- 
chased for  his  people,  yet  you  will  fall  short. 
Raise  your  imagination  higher;  stretch  your 
invention  wider  ;  give  them  all  the  scope 
which  a  soaring  and  excursive  fancy  can  take : 
srill  your  conceptions  will  be  extremely  dis- 
proportionate to  their  genuine  perfections. 
Vast  are  the  bodies  which  roll  in  the  ex- 
panse of  heaven  ;  vaster  far  are  those  fields 
of  ether,  through  which  they  ran  their  end- 
less round ;  but  the  excellency  of  Jesus, 
and  the  happiness  laid  up  for  his  servants, 
are  greater  than  either,  than  both,  than  all. 
An  inspired  MTiter  calls  the  former,  "  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  Christ ;"  and  styles 
the  latter,  "  an  exceeding  great  and  eternal 
weight  of  glory." 

If  those  stars  are  so  many  great  and  in- 
exhaustible magazines  of  fire,  and  immense 
reservoirs  of  light ;  there  is  no  reason  to 
doubt  but  they  have  some  very  grand  uses, 
suitable  to  the  magnificence  of  their  nature. 
To  specify  or  explain  the  particular  pur- 
poses they  answer,  is  altogether  impossible 
in  our  present  state  of  distance  and  igno- 
rance. This,  however,  we  may  clearly  dis- 
cern ;  they  are  disposed  in  that  very  man- 
ner which  is  most  pleasing  and  most  ser- 
viceable to  mankind.  They  are  not  placed 
at  an  infinite  remove,  so  as  to  lie  beyond 
otu-  sight,  neither  are  they  brought  so  near 
our  abode,  as  to  annoy  us  M'ith  their  beams. 
We  see  them  shine  on  every  side.  The 
deep  azure  which  serves  them  as  a  ground, 
heightens  their  splendour.  At  the  same 
time,  their  influence  is  gentle,  and  their 
rays  are  destitute  of  heat.  •  So  that  we  are 
surrounded  with  a  multitude  of  fiery  globes 
which  beautify  and  illuminate  the  firma- 
ment, without  any  risk,  either  to  the  cool- 
ness of  our  night,  or  the  quiet  of  our  repose. 
Who  can  sufficiently  admire  that  wondrous 
benignity,  which,  on  our  account,  strevv'S 
the  earth  with  blessings  of  every  kind,  and 
vouchsafes  to  make  the  very  heavens  sub- 
servient to  our  delight  ? 

It  is  not  solely  to  adorn  the  roof  of  our 
palace  with  costly  gildings,  that  God  com- 
mands the  celestial  luminaries  to  glitter 
through  the  gloom.  We  also  reap  consid- 
erable benefits  from  their  ministry.  They 
divide  our  time,  and  fix  its  solemn  periods. 
They  settle  the  order  of  our  works  ;  and 
are,  according  to  the  destination  mentioned 
in  sacred  writ,  "  for  signs  and  for  seasons ; 
for  days  and  for  years."  The  returns  of 
heat  and  cold  alone  would  have  been  too 
precarious  a  nfle  ;  but  these  radiant  bodies, 
by  the  variation,  and  also  by  the  regularity, 
of  their  motions,  afford  a  method  of  calcu- 
lating absolutely  certain,  and  sufficiently  ob- 
vious. By  this  the  farmer  is  instructed 
when  to  commit  his  grain  to  the  furrows, 


ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


1-21 


nr.il  liow  to  conduct  the  oi>crations  of  hus- 
bitiidry.  By  this,  the  sailor  kn(;\vs  wlieii 
ro  )irocecd  on  his  voyjige  with  least  peril, 
find  how  to  carry  on  tlie  business  of  navi- 
gation with  most  success. 

Why  should  not  the  Christian,  the  pro- 
bationer for  eternity,  learn  from  the  same 
monitors,  to  number  for  nobler  purj)oses,  to 
number  his  days,  and  duly  to  transact  the 
grand,  grand  affairs  of  his  everlasting  salva- 
tion ?  Since  God  has  ap])ointed  so  many 
bright  measurers  of  our  time,  to  determine 
its  larger  periods,  and  to  minute  down  its 
ordinary  stages  ;  sxu'e,  this  most  strongly 
inculcates  its  value,  and  should  powerfully 
prompt  us  to  improve  it.  Behold  !  the 
Siiipreme  Lord  mai'ks  the  progress  of  our 
life,  in  that  most  cons])icuous  calendar  above. 
Does  not  such  an  ordination  tell  us,  and 
in  the  most  emphatical  language,  that  our 
life  is  given  for  use,  not  for  waste  ;  that 
no  portion  of  it  is  delivered,  but  under  a 
strict  account ;  that  all  of  it  is  entered,  as 
it  passes,  in  the  divine  register ;  and  there- 
fore, that  the  stewards  of  such  a  talent  are 
to  expect  a  future  reckoning  ?  Behold  the 
very  heavens  are  bidden  to  be  the  account- 
ants of  our  years,  and  months,  and  days. 
O  !  may  this  induce  us  to  manage  them 
with  a  vigilant  fnigality  :  to  part  with  them 
as  misers  with  their  hoarded  treasure,  wari- 
ly and  circumspectly  ;  and,  if  possible,  as 
merchants  with  their  rich  commodities,  not 
without  an  equivalent,  either  in  personal 
improvement,  or  social  usefulness  ! 

How  bright  the  stany  diamonds  shine  ! 
the  ambition  of  eastern  monarchs  could 
imagine  no  distinction  more  noble  and  su- 
blime, than  that  of  being  likened  to  those 
beaming  orbs.  (Num.  xxiv.  17.  Dan.  viii. 
10.)  They  form  night's  richest  dress  ;  and 
sparkle  upon  her  sable  robe,  like  jewels  of 
the  finest  lustre.  Like  jewels  !  I  wrong 
their  character.  The  lucid  stone  has  no 
brilliancy,  quenched  is  the  flame  even  of 
the  golden  topaz,  compared  with  those  glow- 
ing decorations  of  heaven.  How  widely  are 
their  radiant  honours  diffused !  No  nation 
so  remote  but  sees  their  beauty,  and  rejoices 
in  their  usefulness.  They  have  been  ad- 
mired by  all  preceding  generations,  and 
every  rising  age  \nll  gaze  on  their  charms 
with  renewed  delight.  How  animating  | 
then,  is  that  promise  made  to  the  faithful 
ministers  of  the  gospel !  "  They  that  turn 
many  to  righteousness,  shall  shine  as  the 
6tars  for  ever  and  ever."  (Dan.  xii.  3.)  Is 
not  this  a  most  winning  encouragement  "  to 
spend  and  be  spent"  in  the  service  of  souls  ? 
Methinks  the  stars  beckon  as  they  twinkle. 
Methinks  tliey  show  me  their  splendours, 
on  purpose  to  inspire  me  with  alacrity  in 
the  race  set  before  me  :  on  purpose  to  en- 
liven my  activity  in  the  work  that  is  given 
me  to  do.      Vcs,  ye  maicstic   monitors,   I 


understand  your  mcanitig.  If  honour  ban 
any  charms,  if  true  glory,  tlie  glor}'  which 
Cometh  from  God,  is  any  attractive,  yoii 
display  the  most  powerful  incitements  to 
exercise  all  assiduity  in  my  holy  vocation. 
I  will  henceforth  observe  your  intimation  ; 
and  when  zeal  becomes  languid,  have  re- 
course to  your  heavenly  lamps  ;  if  so  be  I 
may  rekindle  its  ardour  at  those  inextin- 
guishable fires. 

Of  the  polar  star  it  is  observable,  that 
while  other  luminaries  alter  their  situation, 
this  seems  invariably  fixed.  *  A\'hile  other 
luminaries  now  mount  the  battlements  of 
heaven,  and  appear  upon  duty  ;  now  retire 
beneath  the  liorizon,  and  resign  to  a  fresh 
set  the  watches  of  the  night ;  this  never  de- 
parts from  its  station.  This,  in  eveiy  sea- 
son, maintains  an  uniform  position,  and  is 
always  to  be  found  in  the  same  tract  of  the 
northern  sky.  How  often  has  this  beamed 
bright  intelligence  on  the  sailor,  and  con- 
ducted the  keel  to  its  desired  haven  !  In 
early  ages,  those  who  went  down  to  the  sea 
in  ships,  and  occupied  their  business  in  great 
waters,  had  scarce  any  other  sure  guide  for 
their  wandering  vessel.  This,  therefore, 
they  viewed  with  the  most  solicitous  atten- 
tion. By  this  they  formed  their  observa- 
tions and  regulated  their  voyage.  When 
this  was  obscured  by  clouds,  or  enveloj)ed 
in  mists,  the  trembling  mariner  was  bewil- 
dered on  the  watery  waste.  His  thoughts 
fluctuated  as  much  as  the  floating  surge  ; 
and  he  knew  not  where  he  was  advanced, 
or  whither  he  should  steer.  But  when  this 
auspicious  star  broke  through  the  gloom,  it 
dissi])iited  the  anxiety  of  his  mind,  and  clear- 
ed up  lis  dubious  passage  ;  he  reassumed 
with  alacrity  the  management  of  the  helm, 
and  was  able  to  shape  his  course  with  some 
tolerable  degree  of  satisfaction  and  certain- 
ty'* 

Such,  only  much  clearer  in  its  light,  and 

much  surer  in  its  direction,  is  the  holy  word 
of  God  to  those  myriads  of  intellectual  be- 
ings who  are  bound  for  the  eternal  shores  ; 
who,  embarked  in  a  vessel  of  feeble  flesh, 
are  to  pass  the  waves  of  this  tempestuous 
and  perilous  world.  In  all  difficulties, 
those  sacred  pages  shed  an  encouraging  ray, 
in  all  uncertainties,  they  suggest  the  right 
doterniination,  and  point  out  the  proper 
])roccdurc.  What  is  still  a  more  inestima- 
ble advantage,  they,  like  the  star  which  con- 
ducted the  eastern  sages,  niiike  plain  the 
way  of  access  to  a  Redeemer.  '1  hey  dis- 
play his  unspeakable  merits  ;  they  discover 
the  method  of  being  interested  in  his  great 
atonement ;  and  lead  the  weary  soul,  toss- 


«  I  speak  in  confomiity  to  the  appearance  of  the 
object.  For,  though  this  remarkable  star  revolves 
round  the  pole,  its  motion  is  so  slow,  and  the  circle 
it  ilestribe.s  so  small,  as  renders  both  the  revolution 
and  cliange  of  situation  hardly  perceivable. 


122 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


ed  by  trouhles,  and  shattered  by  temptations, 
to  that  only  harbour  of  peaceful  repose.  Let 
us  therefore  attend  to  this  unerring  direc- 
tory, with  the  same  constancy  of  regard,  as 
the  seafaring  man  observes  his  compass. 
Let  us  become  as  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  this  sacred  chart,  as  the  pilot  is  with 
every  trusty  mark,  that  gives  notice  of  a 
lurking  rock,  and  with  every  open  road  that 
yields  a  safe  passage  into  the  port.  Above 
all,  let  us  commit  ourselves  to  this  infalli- 
ble guidance,  with  the  same  implicit  resig- 
nation ;  let  us  conform  our  conduct  to  its  ex- 
alted precepts,  with  the  same  sedidous  care, 
as  the  children  of  Israel,  when  sojourning  in 
the  trackless  desert,  followed  the  pillar  of 
fire,  and  the  motions  of  the  miraculous 
cloud.  So  will  it  introduce  us,  not  into  an 
earthly  Canaan,  flowing  with  milk  and  ho- 
ney, but  into  an  immortal  paradise,  where  is 
the  fulness  of  joy,  and  where  are  pleasures 
for  evermore.  It  will  introduce  us  into 
those  happy,  happy  regions,  where  our  sun 
shall  no  more  go  down,  nor  our  moon  with- 
draw itself;  for  the  Lord  shall  be  our  ever- 
lasting light,  and  the  days  of  our  mourning, 
together  with  the  fatigues  of  our  pilgrimage, 
shall  be  ended.  ( Isaiah  Ix.  20. ) 

I  perceive  a  great  variety  in  the  size 
and  splendour  of  those  gems  of  heaven. 
Some  are  of  the  first  magnitude  ;  others 
of  an  infei-ior  order.  Some  glow  with 
intense  flames  ;  others  glimmer  with  faint- 
er beams.  Yet  all  are  beautiful,  all  have 
their  peculiar  lustre,  and  distinct  use  ; 
all  tend  in  their  different  degrees  to  ena- 
mel the  cope  of  heaven,  and  embroider  the 
robe  of  night.  This  circumstance  is  re- 
marked by  an  author,  whose  sentiments 
are  a  source  of  wisdom,  and  the  very  stand- 
ard of  tmth.  "  One  star,"  says  the  apos- 
tle of  the  Gentiles,  "  differeth  from  another 
star  in  glory ;  so  also  is  the  resurrection 
of  the  dead." 

In  the  world  above,  are  various  degi'ees 
of  happiness,  various  seats  of  honour. 
Some  will  rise  to  more  illustrious  distinc- 
tions, and  richer  joys.*  Some,  like  vessels 
of  amjde  capacity,  will  admit  more  copious 
accessions  of  light  and  excellence.  Yet 
there  will  be  no  want,  no  deficiency  in  any, 
but  a  fulness  both  of  divine  satisfactions 
and  personal  perfections.  Each  will  enjoy 
all  the  good,  and  be  adorned  with  all  the 
glory,  that  his  heart  can  wish  or  his  condi- 
tion receive.  None  will  know  what  it  is 
to  envy.  Not  the  least  malevolence,  nor 
the  least  selfishness,  but  everlasting  friend- 
ship prevails,  and  a  mutual  complacency  in 
each  other's  delight.  Love,  cordial  love, 
will  give  every  particular  saint  a  participa- 


*  1  Cor.  XV.  41,  42.  The  great  Mr.  Mead  prefers  the 
sense  here  given,  and  tlie  learned  Dr.  Hammond  ad- 
inils  it  into  his  paraphrase.  Whose  joint  authority, 
though  far  from  excluding  any  other,  yet  is  a  sutVi- 
cient  warrnnt  for  this  application  of  the  words. 


tion  of  all  the  fruitions  which  ai'e  diffused 
through  the  whole  assembly  of  the  blessed. 
No  one  eclipses,  but  each  reflects  light  upon 
his  brother.  A  sweet  interchange  of  rays 
subsist,  all  enlightened  by  the  great  Foun- 
tain, and  all  enlightening  one  another.  By 
which  reciprocal  communication  of  plea- 
sure and  amity,  each  will  be  continually  re- 
ceiving from,  each  incessantly  adding  to,  the 
general  felicity. 

Happy,  supremely  happy  they,  who  are 
admitted  into  the  celestial  mansions.  Bet- 
ter to  be  a  doorkeeper  in  those  "  ivory 
palaces,"  (Psalm  xlv.  8.)  than  to  fill  the 
most  gorgeous  throne  on  earth.  The  very 
]o\^'est  place  at  God's  right  hand  is  distin- 
guished honour  and  consummate  bliss.  O 
that  we  may,  in  some  measure,  anticipate 
that  beatific  state  while  we  remain  in  our 
banishment  below  !  May  we,  by  rejoicing 
in  the  superior  prosperity  of  another,  make 
it  our  own ;  and  provided  the  general  result 
is  harmony,  be  content,  be  pleased,  with 
whatsoever  part  is  assigned  to  our  share  in 
the  universal  choir  of  affairs. 

While  I  am  considering  the  heavenly  bo- 
dies, I  must  not  entirely  forget  those  funda- 
mental laws  of  our  modern  astronomy,  pro- 
jection and  attraction.  One  of  which  is  the 
all-combining  cement,  the  other  is  the  ever- 
operative  spring,  of  the  mighty  frame.  In 
the  beginning  the  all-creating  fiat  impress- 
ed a  proper  degree  of  motion  on  each  of 
those  whirling  orbs  ;  which,  if  not  controll- 
ed, would  have  carried  them  on  in  straight 
lines,  and  to  endless  lengths,  till  they  were 
even  lost  in  the  abyss  of  space.  But,  the 
gravitating  property  being  added  to  the  pro- 
jectile force,  determined  their  courses  to  a 
circular  form,*  and  obliged  the  reluctant 
rovers  to  perform  their  destined  rounds. 
Were  either  of  those  causes  to  suspend  their 
action,  all  the  harmoniously  moving  spheres 
would  be  disconcerted,  woidd  degenerate 
into  sluggish,  inactive  masses,  and,  falling 
into  the  central  fire,  be  burnt  to  ashes  ;  or 
else  would  exorbitate  into  wild  confusion, 
and  each,  by  the  rapidity  of  its  whirl,  be 
dissipated  into  atoms.  But  the  impulsive 
and  attractive  energy  being  most  nicely  at- 


*  I  am  aware  the  planetary  orbits  are  not  strictly  cir- 
cular, but  rather  elliptical.  However,  as  they  are 
hut  a  small  remove  from  the  perfectly  round  figure- 
and  partake  of  it  incomparably  more  than  the  trajeo 
lories  of  the  comets,  I  choose  to  represent  the  thing 
in  this  view;  especially,  because  the  notion  of  a  cir- 
cle is  so  much  more  intelligible  to  the  generality  of 
readers,  than  that  of  an  ellipsis;  and  because  I  laid  it 
down  for  a  rule,  not  to  admit  any  such  abstruse  sen- 
timent, or  difficult  expression,  as  should  demand  a 
painful  attention,  instead  of  raising  an  agreeable  idea. 
For  which  reason,  I  have  avoided  technical  terms  ; 
have  taken  no  notice  of  Jupiter's  satellites,  or  Sa- 
turn's ring ;  have  not  so  much  as  mentioned  the  names 
of  the  planets,  nor  attempted  to  wade  into  any  depths 
of  t!ie  science  ;  lest,  to  those  who  have  no  opportuni- 
ty of  using  the  telescope,  or  of  acquainting  themselves 
witli  a  system  of  astronomy,  I  should  propound  rid- 
dles, rather  than  display  entertaining  and  edifying 
trutlis. 


ON  THE  STARRY  HEAVENS. 


123 


tempered  to  each  otlier ;  and,  under  tlie  im- 
mediate operation  of  tlie  Almighty,  exert- 
ing themselves  in  perpetual  concert,  the 
various  globes  run  tlieir  radiant  races  with- 
out the  least  interrujition,  or  the  least  de- 
viation, so  as  to  create  the  alternate  chan- 
ges of  day  and  night,  and  distribute  the  use- 
I'ld  viscissitudes  of  succeeding  seasons  ;  so 
OS  to  answer  all  the  great  ends  of  a  gracious 
Providence,  and  procure  every  comfortable 
convenience  for  universal  nature. 

Does  not  this  constitution  of  the  mater- 
ial, very  naturally  lead  the  thoughts  to  those 
grand  principles  of  the  moral  and  devotion- 
al world — faith  and  love?  These  are  of- 
ten celebrated  by  the  inspired  apostle,  as  a 
comprehensive  summary  of  the  gospel  ; 
(Col.  i.  4.  Philem.  ver.  5.)  These  inspirit 
the  breast,  and  regulate  the  progTess  of  each 
private  Christian.  These  unite  the  whole 
congregation  of  the  faithful  to  God,  and  one 
another ; — to  God,  the  gi'cat  centre,  in  the 
bonds  of  gratitude  and  devotion  ;  to  one 
another,  \ry  a  recii)rocal  intercourse  of  bro- 
therly affections  and  friendly  offices.  If 
you  ask,  Wby  is  it  impossible  for  the  true 
believer  to  live  at  all  adventures  ?  to  stag- 
nate in  sloth,  or  habitually  to  deviate  from 
duty?  We  answer,  it  is  owing  to  "  his 
faith  working  by  love."  (Gal.  v.  6.)  He 
assuredly  trusts,  that  Christ  has  sustained 
the  infamy,  and  endured  the  torment  due  to 
his  sins.  He  firmly  relies  on  that  divine 
propitiation  for  the  pardon  of  all  his  guilt  ; 
and  humbly  expects  everlasting  salvation 
as  the  purchase  of  his  Saviour's  merits. 
This  produces  such  a  spirit  of  gratitude, 
as  refines  his  inclinations,  and  animates 
his  whole  behaviour.  He  cannot,  he  can- 
not run  to  excess  of  riot ;  because  love  to 
his  adorable  Redeemer,  like  a  strong,  but 
silken  curb,  sweetly  restrains  him.  He 
cannot,  he  cannot  lie  lulled  in  a  lethargic 
indolence  ;  because  love  to  the  same  infin- 
ite Benefactor,  like  a  pungent  but  endear- 
ing spur,  pleasingly  excites  him.  In  a 
word,  faith  supplies  the  powerfid  impulse, 
while  love  gives  the  determining  bias,  and 
leads  the  willing  i'eet  through  the  whole 
circle  of  God's  commandments.  By  the 
united  efficacy  of  these  heavenly  graces,  the 
Christian  conduct  is  preserved,  in  the  uni- 
formity and  l»eauty  of  holiness  ;  as  by  the 
lilended  power  of  those  Newtonian  princi- 
ples, the  solar  system  revolves  in  a  steady 
and  magnificent  regidarity. 

How  admirable,  how  extensive,  how  di- 
versified, is  the  force  of  this  single  princi- 
ple, attraction  /*  This  penetrates  the  very 
essence  of  all  bodies,  iind  diffuses  itself  to 
the  remotest  limits  of  the  mundane  system. 
By  this  the  worlds,  impressed  with  motion, 
liang  self-balanced  on  their  centres,    and. 


thougli  orbs  of  immense  magnitude,  require 
nothing  but  this  amazing  property  for  their 
support.  To  this  v.'e  ascribe  a  phenome- 
non of  a  veiy  different  kind — the  pressure 
of  the  atmosphere,  which,  though  an  yielding 
and  expansive  fluid,  yet,  constipated  by  an 
attractive  energy,  surrounds  the  whole  globe, 
and  incloses  every  creature,  as  it  were,  with 
a  tight  bandage.  An  expedient  this,  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  preserve  the  texture  of 
our  bodies,  and  indeed  to  maintain  eveiy 
species  of  animal  existence.  Attraction  ! 
Urged  by  this  wonderful  impetus,  the  rivers 
circulate,  copious  and  unintermitted,  among 
all  the  nations  of  the  earth;  sweeping  with 
rapidity  down  the  steeps,  or  softly  ebbing 
through  the  plains.  Imj)elled  by  the  same 
mysterious  force,  the  nutritious  juices  are 
detached  from  the  soil,  and  ascending  the 
trees,  find  their  way  through  millions  of  the 
finest  meanders,  in  order  to  transfuse  vege- 
tative life  into  all  the  branches.  Tliis 
confines  the  ocean  within  proper  bounds  ; 
though  the  waves  thereof  roar,  though  they 
toss  themselves,  with  all  the  madness  of  in- 
digent rage  ;  yet,  checked  by  this  potent, 
this  inevitable  curb,  they  are  unable  to  pass 
even  the  slight  banier  of  sand.  To  this 
the  mountains  owe  that  unshaken  firmness, 
which  laughs  at  the  shock  of  careering 
winds,  and  bids  the  tempest,  with  all  its 
mingled  horrors,  impotently  rave.  By 
virtue  of  this  invisible  mechanism,  without 
the  aid  of  crane  or  pully,  or  any  instrument 
of  human  device,  many  thousand  tuns  of 
water  are  raised  every  moment  into  the  re- 
gions of  the  firmament :  by  this  they  con- 
tinue suspended  in  thin  air,  without  any 
capacious  cistern  to  contain  their  substance, 
or  any  massy  pillars  to  sustain  their  v/eight : 
By  this  same  variously  acting  power,  they 
return  to  the  place  of  their  native  resi- 
dence, distilled  in  gentle  falls  of  dew,  or 
precipitated  in  impetuous  showers  of  rain  ; 
they  slide  into  the  fields  in  fleecy  flights  of 
snow,  or  are  darted  upon  the  houses  in 
clattering  storms  of  hail.  This  occasions 
the  strong  cohesion  of  solid  bodies  ;  with- 
out which,  our  large  machines  could  exert 
themselves  with  no  vigour,  and  the  nicer 
utensils  of  life  would  elude  our  expectations 
of  service.  This  aflbrds  a  foundation  for  all 
those  delicate  or  noble  mechanic  arts,  which 
furnish  mankind  with  nundierlcss  conven- 
iences, both  of  ornament  and  delight.  In 
short,  this  is  the  prodigious  ballast,  which 
composes  the  ecpiilibrium,  and  constitutes 
the  stability  of  things  ;  this  is  the  great 
chain,  which  forms  the  connexions  of  uni- 
versal nature  ;  and  the  mighty  engine  which 
prompts,  facilitates,  and  in  good  measure, 
accomi)lishes  all  her  operations.  What 
complicated  effects  from  a  single  cause  !* 


»  I  mean  tlie  attraction  both  of  gravitation  ami  CO-       *  See  another  remarkable  instance  of  this  kind,  in 
hesion.  the  Reflections  on  a  Flower-Garden,  page 3y,  3!),  to- 


124 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


What  profusion,  amidst  fnigality !  an  un- 
known profusion  of  benefits,  with  the  ut- 
most fnigality  of  expense  ! 

And  what  is  this  attraction  ?  Is  it  a 
quality,  in  its  existence  inseparable  from 
matter,  and  in  its  acting  independent  on 
the  Deity  ?  Quite  the  reverse.  It  is  the 
very  finger  of  God  ;  the  constant  impression 
of  divine  power  ;  a  principle,  neither  in- 
nate in  matter,  nor  intelligible  by  mortals. 
Does  it  not,  however,  bear  a  considerable 
analogy  to  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
in  the  Christian  economy  ?  Are  not  the 
gracious  operations  of  the  blessed  Spirit 
thus  extensive,  thus  admirable,  thus  vari- 
ous ?  That  almighty  Being  transmits  his 
gifts  through  every  age,  and  communicates 
his  graces  to  every  adherent  on  the  Re- 
deemer. All,  either  of  illustrious  memory, 
or  of  beneficial  tendency  ;  in  a  word  all  the 
good  that  is  done  upon  earth,  he  doth  it 
himself.  Strong  in  his  aid,  and  in  the 
power  of  his  might,  the  saints  of  all  times 
liave  trod  vice  under  their  feet,  have 
triumphed  over  this  abject  world,  and  con- 
versed in  heaven  while  they  dwelt  on  earth. 
Not  I,  but  the  grace  of  God,  which  was  with 
me  (1  Cor.  xv.  10.)  is  the  unanimous  ac- 
knowledgment of  them  all.  By  the  same 
kindly  succours,  the  whole  church  is  still  en- 
lightened, quickened,  and  governed.  Through 
his  benign  influences,  the  scales  of  ignorance 
fall  from  the  understanding ;  the  leprosy  of 
evil  concupiscence  is  purged  from  the  will ; 
and  the  fetters,  the  more  than  adamantine 
fitters  of  habitual  iniquity,  drop  off  from  the 
conversation.  He  breathes  even  \\\mn  dry 
bones,*  and  they  live :  they  are  animated 
with  faith  ;  they  pant  with  ardent  and  hea- 
venly desire  ;  they  exercise  themselves  in 
all  the  duties  of  godliness.  His  real, 
though  secret  inspiration,  dissolves  the  flint 
in  the  impenitent  breast,  and  binds  up  the 
sorrows  of  the  broken  heart ;  raises  the 
thoughts  high  in  the  elevations  of  holy 
hope,  yet  lays  them  low  in  the  humiliations 
of  inward  abasement ;  steels  the  soul  with 
impenetrable  resolution  and  preserving  for- 
titude, at  the  same  time  softens  it  into  a 
dove-like  meekness,  and  melts  it  in  peni 
tential  sorrow. 

When  I  contemplate  those  ample  and 
magiiiiicent  structures  erected  over  all  the 
etherial  plains  ;  when  I  look  iqjon  them  as 
so  majiy  splendid  repositories  of  light,  or 
fruitful  abodes  of  life  ;  when  I  remember, 
that  there  may  be  other  orbs,  vastly  more 
remote  than  those  which  appear  to  our  un- 
aided sight ;  orbs,  whose  effulgence,  though 
travelling    ever    since  tlie   creation,  is  siot 


yet  arrived  upon  our  coasts  ;"  when  T 
stretch  my  thoughts  to  the  innumerable 
orders  of  being  which  inhabit  all  those 
spacious  systems,  from  the  loftiest  seraph 
to  the  lowest  reptile,  from  the  armies  of 
angels  which  surround  the  throne  of  Je- 
hovah to  the  pimy  nations  which  tinge  with 
blue  the  surface  of  the  plum,f  or  mantle 
the  standing  pool  with  green — how  various 
appear  the  links  in  this  immense  chain  ! 
how  vast  the  gradations  in  this  universal 
scale  of  existence  !  Yet  all  these,  though 
ever  so  vast  and  various,  are  the  work  of 
God's  hand,  and  are  full  of  his  presence. 

He  rounded  in  his  palm  those  dreadfully 
large  globes  which  are  pendulous  in  the 
vault  of  heaven.  He  kindled  those  aston- 
ishingly bright  fires,  which  fill  the  firma- 
ment with  a  flood  of  glory.  By  him  they 
are  suspended  in  fluid  ether,  and  cannot  be 
shaken  ;  by  him  they  dispense  a  perpetual 
tide  of  beams,  and  are  never  exhausted. 
He  formed,  with  inexpressible  nicety,  that 
delicately  fine  collection  of  tubes,  that  un- 
known nudtiplicity  of  subtle  springs,  which 
organize  and  actuate  the  frame  of  the  mi- 
nutest insect.  He  bids  the  crimson  cur- 
rent roll,  the  ^^tal  movements  play,  and  as- 
sociates a  world  of  wonders  even  in  an  ani- 
mated point.:):     In  all  these  is  a  single  ex- 


pethcr  with  a  fine  observation  quoted  in  the  corres- 
ponding note. 

*  See  tliat  beautiful  piece  of  sacrtd  and  allegorical 
imagery  displayed,  Ezek.  XNX.ii. 


*  If  this  conjecture  (which  has  no  less  a  person 
than  the  celebrated  Mr.  Huygens  for  its  author)  con- 
ceming  unseen  stars,  be  true ;  if  to  this  observation  be 
added,  what  is  affirmed  by  our  skilful  astronomers, 
that  the  motion  of  the  rays  of  light  is  so  surprismgly 
swift,  as  to  pass  through  tenraillionsof  miles  in  a  sin- 
gle minute :  how  vast— beyond  imagination  vast  and 
unmeasurable — are  the  spaces  of  the  universe  !  While 
the  mind  is  distended  with  the  grand  idea;  or  ra- 
ther while  she  is  despatching  her  ablest  powers  of 
piercing  judgment,  and  excursive  fancy  ;  and  finds 
them  all  dropt  short  ;  all  baffled  by  the  amazing  sub- 
ject ;  permit  me  to  apply  that  spirited  exclamation, 
and  noble  remark ; 

Say,  proud  arch 

Built  with  divine  ambition  ;  in  disdain 

Of  limit  built;  built  in  the  taste  of  heaven  ! 

Vast  concave  !  ample  dome  !  wast  thou  designed 

A  meet  apparent  for  the  deity  ? 

Not  so;  that  thought  alone  thy  state  impairs; 

Thy  lofty  sinks ;  and  shallows  thy  profound ; 

And  straitens  thy  dift'usive 

Night-Ti'ioiights,  No  ix. 
t  Even  the  blue  down  the  purple  plum  surrounds 
A  living  world  thy  failing  sight  confounds: 
To  him  a  peopled  habitation  shows. 
Where  millions  taste  the  bounty  God  bestows. 
See  a  beautiful  and  instructive  Poem  styled — Deitt/. 
X  There  are  living  creatures  abundantly  smaller 
than  the  mite.  Mr.  Bradley  in  his  treatise  on  garden- 
ing, mentions  an  insect  which,  after  an  accurate  ex- 
amination, he  fouTid  to  be  a  thousand  times  less  than 
the  least  visible  grain  of  sand.  Vet  such  an  insect, 
tliough  quite  imperceptible  to  the  naked  eye,  is  aa 
elephant,  is  a  whale,  compared  with  other  animal- 
cules, almost  infinitely  more  i  minute,  discovered  by 
Mr.  Lewenhock.  If  we  coi  .ikltr  the  several  limbs 
which  compose  such  an  organized  particle;  thedifi'er- 
ent  muscles  which  actuate  such  a  set  of  limbs  ;  the 
flow  of  spirits,  incomparably  more  attenuated,  wViich 
put  those  muscles  in  motion:  the  various  fiiiicts  which 
circulate :  the  different  secretions  which  are  povfurm- 
ed  :  together  with  the  peculiar  minuteness  ol  the  so- 
lids before  they  arrive  at  their  full  growth— not  to 
mention  other  more  astonishing  modes  of  dimmution, 
sure  we  shall  have  the  utmost  reason  to  acknowledge 
that  the  adored  Maker  is  i>ia.rii,-nis  in  i-iinimis, 
greatly  glorious  even  in  his  smallest  works. 


ON   THE   STARRY   HEAVENS. 


12.5 


liibitioii  of  creating  jjower  ;  to  all  thtJBe  are 
extended  the  special  regards  of  preserving 
goodness.  From  hence  let  nie  learn  to 
rely  on  the  providence,  and  to  revere  the 
j)resence  of  the  supreme  Majesty. 

To  rely  on  his  providence :  For  amidst 
that  inconceivable  number  and  variety  of 
beings  wliich  swarm  through  the  regions  of 
creation,  not  one  is  overlooked,  not  one  is 
neglected  by  the  great  Omnipotent  cause 
of  all.  However  inconsiderable  in  its  char- 
acter, or  diminutive  in  its  size,  it  is  still  the 
production  of  the  universal  Maker,  and  be- 
longs to  the  family  of  the  Almighty  Father. 
What  though  enthroned  archangels  enjoy 
the  smiles  of  bis  countenance  ;  yet  the  low 
inhabitants  of  earth,  the  most  despicable 
worms  of  the  ground,  are  not  excluded 
froui  lis  providential  care.  Though  the 
manifestation  of  his  perfections  is  vouch- 
safed to  holy  and  intellectual  essences,  his 
ear  is  open  to  the  cries  of  the  young  I'aven  ; 
his  eye  is  attentive  to  the  wants  and  to  the 
welfare  of  the  very  meanest  births  of  na- 
tme.  How  much  less,  then,  are  his  own 
people  disregarded  ?  those  for  whom  he  has 
delivered  liis  beloved  Son  to  death,  and  for 
whom  he  has  prepared  habitations  of  eter- 
nal joy.  They  disregai-ded  !  No  ;  they  are 
kept  as  the  apple  of  an  eye.  The  very 
hairs  of  their  head  are  all  numbered.  The 
fondest  mother  may  forget  the  infmit  that 
is  dandled  upon  her  knees,  and  sucks  at  her 
breast,*  much  sooner  than  the  Father  of 
everlasting  comjjassion  can  discontinue  or 


*  Isa.  xlix.  15.  "  Can  a  woman  forget  heisucking 
child,  that  she  should  not  have  compassion  on  the  son 
ofherwomb  ?  Yea,  they  may  forget ;  yet  will  I  not  for- 
get thee.  How  delicate  and  expressive  are  the  images 
in  this  charming  scripture  !  How  full  of  beauty  if  be- 
held in  a  critical,  how  rich  with  consolation  if  consi- 
dered in  a  believing  view  !  Cati  a  ivoman  V  one  of  the 
softer  sex,  whose  nature  is  most  impressible  and 
whose  passions  are  remarkably  tender — can  such  a 
one,  not  barely  disregard,  but  entirely  forget ;  not  sus- 
pend her  care  for  a  while,  l)ut  utterly  erase  the 
very  memory  of  her  child — licr  own  child,  not  an- 
others  ?  a  child  that  was  formed  in  her  womb.and  is  a 
part  of  herself  ?  Her  .?oji,  the  more  important,  and 
therefore  more  desirable  species,  to  whom  it  jiccu- 
liarly  belongs  to  preserve  the  name,  and  build  up  the 
family  ;  her  only  son — for  the  word  is  singular,  and 
refers  to  a  case  where  theofFspring,  not  being  numer- 
ous, but  centered  in  a  single  birth,  must  be  produc- 
tive of  the  fondest  endearment :  Can  she  divest  her- 
self of  all  concern  for  such  a  child;  not  when  he  is 
grown  up  to  maturity,  or  gone  abroad  from  her  house, 
but  while  he  continues  in  an  infantile  state,  and  must 
owe  his  whole  safety  to  her  kind  attendance  ;  while 
he  lies  in  her  bosom,  rests  on  her  ami,  and  even  sucks 
at  her  breast  ?  especially  if  the  poor  innocent  be  rack- 
ed with  pain,  or  seized  by  some  severe  affliction  ;  and 
so  become  an  object  of  compassion  as  well  as  of  love  ? 
Can  she  hear  its  piercing  cries ;  can  she  see  it  all  rest- 
less, all  helpless  under  its  misery,  and  feel  no  emotions 
of  parental  pity  ?  If  one  such  monster  of  inhmuanity 
.might  be  found,  could  all  (hero  the  prophet,  to  give 
his  comparison  the  utmost  energy,  changes  th.e singu- 
lar number  into  the  pli.'.al)  could  iM  mothers  be  so 
degenerate  ?  This,  sure,  camiot  be  suspected,  need 
not  be  feared ;  much  less  need  the  true  believer  be  ap- 
prehensive of  the  failure  of  my  kindness.  An  uni- 
versal extinction  of  these  strongest  atTections  of  nature 
is  a  more  supposable  case,  than  that  I  should  ever 
be  unmindful  of  niy  people,  or  regardless  of  their  in- 
terests. 


remit  his  watchful  tenderness  to  his  peopie> 
his  children,  his  heirs. 

Let  this  teach  me  also  a  more  lively  sense 
of  the  divine  presense.  All  the  rolling 
worlds  above,  all  the  living  atoms  below, 
together  with  all  the  beings  that  intervene 
betwixt  these  wide  extremes,  are  vouchers 
for  an  ever-jjresent  Deity.  "  God  has  not 
left  himself  without  a  witness."  The  marks 
of  his  footsteps  are  evident  in  every  place, 
and  the  touches  of  his  finger  distinguisha- 
ble in  every  creature.  '•  Thy  name  is  so 
nigh,  O  thou  all-supporting,  all-informing 
Lord  ;  and  that  do  thy  wondrous  works  de- 
clare." (Psalm  Ixxv.  1.)  Thy  goodness 
warms  in  the  morning  sun,  and  refreshes  in 
the  evening  breeze.  Thy  glory  shines  in 
lamps  of  midnight,  and  smiles  in  the  blos- 
soms of  spring.  AVe  see  a  trace  of  thy  in- 
comprehensible grandeur  in  the  boundless 
extent  of  things  ;  and  a  sketch  of  thy  ex- 
quisite skill,  in  those  almost  evanescent 
sparks  of  life — the  insect  race."  How  stu- 
pid is  this  heart  of  mine,  that,  amidst  such 
a  multitude  of  remembrancers  thronging  on 
every  side,  I  should  forget  thee  a  single  mo- 
ment !  Grant  me,  thou  great  I  am  !  thou 
source  and  support  of  universal  existence  ; 
Oh  !  grant  me  an  enlightened  eye  to  dis- 
cern thee  in  every  object,  and  a  devout  heart 
to  adore  thee  on  every  occasion.  Instead 
of  living  without  God  in  the  world,  may  I 
be  ever  with  him,  and  see  all  things  full  of 
him. 

-The  glittering  stars 


By  the  deep  ear  of  meditation  heard. 
Still  in  their  midnight  watches  sing  of  him. 
He  nods  a  calm.     The  tempest  blows  his  wrath. 
The  thunder  is  his  voice;  and  the  red  flash 
His  speedy  swcrd  of  justice.    At  his  touch 
The  mountains  flame.  He  shakes  the  solid  earth. 
And  rocks  the  nations.    Nor  in  these  alone — 
In  ev'ry  common  instance  God  is  seen. 

Thotmun's  Spring. 

If  the  beautiful  spangles  which  a  clear 
night  pours  on  the  beholder's  eye  ;  if  those 
other  iires  which  beam  in  remoter  skies, 
and  are  discoverable  only  by  that  revelation 
to  the  sight — the  telescope  ;  if  all  those 
bright  millions  are  so  many  fountains  of 
day,  enriched  with  native  and  independent 
lustre,  illuminating  planets,  and  eulivening 
systems  of  their  own  ;*  what  pomp,  how 
majestic  and  splendid  !  is  disclosed  in  the  . 
midnight  scene  !  Wliiit  riches  are  dissemin- 
ated through  all  those  nuinberkss  provinces 
of  the  great  Jehovah's  empire  !  Grandeur 
beyond  expression !  Yet  there  is  not  the 
meanest  slave  but  carries  greater  wealth  in 
his  own  bosom,  possesses  superior  dignity 
in  bis  owTi  person.      The  soul  that  informs 


*  Consult  with  reason.     Reason  will  reply. 
Each  lucid  point,  which  glows  in  yonder  sky, 
Informs  a  system  in  the  boundless  space, 
And  fills  with  glory  its  appointed  place; 
With  beams  unborrow'd  brightens  other  skies; 
And  worlds,  to  thee  unknown,  with  heat  ami  life 
supiilies. — T/ie  Unitiurac. 


126 


CONTEMPLATIONS 


his  clay:  the  soul  that  teaches  him  to 
think,  and  enables  him  to  choose,  that  qua- 
lifies him  to  relish  rational  pleasure,  and  to 
breathe  sublime  desire  ;*  the  soul  that  is 
endowed  with  such  noble  faculties  ;  and, 
above  all,  is  distinguished  with  the  dreadful, 
the  glorious  capacity  of  being  pained  or  bless- 
ed for  ever  :  this  soul  surpasses  in  worth 
whatever  the  eye  can  see,  whatever  of  ma- 
terial the  fancy  can  imagine.  Before  one 
such  intellectual  being,  all  the  treasiu-e,  and 
all  the  magnificence  of  unintelligent  crea- 
tion, becomes  poor  and  contemptible,  f  For 
this  soul  Omnipotence  itself  has  waked  and 
worked  through  eveiy  age.  To  convince  this 
soul,  the  fundamental  laws  of  nature  have 
been  controlled,  and  the  most  amazing  mira- 
cles have  alarmed  all  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
To  instruct  this  soul,  the  \nsdom  of  heaven 
has  been  transfused  into  the  sacred  page, 
and  missionaries  have  been  sent  from  the 
great  King,  who  resides  in  light  unapproach- 
able. To  sanctify  this  soul,  the  Almighty 
Comforter  takes  the  mngs  of  a  dove,  and 
wath  a  sweet  transforming  influence,  broods 
on  the  himian  heart.  And  O  !  to  redeem 
this  sold  from  guilt,  to  rescue  it  from  hell, 
the  heaven  of  heavens  was  bowed,  and  God 
himself  came  down  to  dwell  in  dust. 

Let  me  pause  a  while  upon  this  impor- 
tant subject.  What  are  the  schemes  which 
engage  the  attention  of  eminent  statesmen, 
and  mighty  monarchs,  compared  with  the 
grand  interests  of  an  immortal  soul  ?  The 
support  of  commerce,  and  the  success  of 
armies,  though  extremely  weighty  afl^airs, 
yet,  if  laid  in  the  balance  against  the  salva- 
tion of  a  soul,  are  lighter  than  the  downy 
feather  poised  against  talents  of  gold.  To 
save  a  navy  from  shipwreck,  or  a  kingdom 
from  slavery,  are  deliverances  of  the  most 
momentous  nature  which  the  transactions 
of  mortality  can  admit-  But,  O  !  how  they 
shrink  into  an  inconsiderable  trifle,  if  (their 
aspect  upon  immortality  forgot)  they  are 
set  in  competition  with  the  delivery  of  a 
single  soul  from  the  anguish  and  horrors  of 
a  distressed  eteniity  !| 

Is  such  the  importance  of  the  soul  ?  what 
vigilance  then  can  be  too  much,  or  rather, 
what  holy  solicitude  can  be  sufficient,  for 


«  In  this  respect,  as  vested  with  such  capacities, 
the  soul  even  of  fallen  man  has  an  unquestionable 
greatness  and  dignity — is  majestic,  though  in  ruin. 

t  I  beg  leave  to  transcribe  a  pertinent  passage, 
from  that  celebrated  master  of  reason,  and  universal 
literature,  Dr.  Bentley,  whom  no  one  can  be  tempted 
to  suspect  either  tinctured  with  enthusiasm,  or 
warped  by  bigotry.  "  If  we  consider,"  says  he,  "  the 
dignity  of  an  intelligent  being,  and  put  that  in  the 
scale  against  brute  and  inanimate  matter,  we  may  af- 
firm, without  over-valuing  human  nature,  that  the 
soul  of  one  virtuous  and  religious  man  is  of  greater 
worth  and  excellency  than  the  sun,  and  his  planets, 
and  all  the  stars  in  the  world. 

See  his  Sei  mcnx  at  Boi/te's  Led.  No.  8. 
j.  Not  all  your  luminaries  (juench'd  at  once 
Were  ha'lf  so  sad,  as  one  benighted  mind 
Which  gropes  for  happiness  and  meets  despair. 
Night  Thoughts,  No.  ix. 


the  overseers  of  the  Saviour's  flock,  and  the 
guardians  of  this  great,  this  venerable,  this 
invaluable  charge  ?  Since  such  is  the  im- 
portance of  the  soul,  wUt  thou  not,  O  man, 
be  watchfid  for  the  preservation  of  thy  own  ? 
Shall  every  casual  incident  awaken  thy  con- 
cern, every  transitory  toy  command  thy  re- 
gard ?  And  shall  the  welfare  of  thy  soul,  a 
work  of  continual  occurrence,  a  work  of 
endless  consequence,  sue  in  vain  for  thy  se- 
rious care  !  Thy  soid,  thy  soul  is  thy  all. 
If  this  be  secured,  thou  art  greatly  rich, 
and  will  be  unspeakably  happy.  If  this  be 
lost,  a  whole  world  acquired  will  leave  thee 
in  poverty,  and,  all  its  delights  enjoyed,  will 
abandon  thee  to  misery, 

I  have  often  been  charmed  and  awed  at 
the  sight  of  the  nocturnal  heavens,  even 
before  I  knew  how  to  consider  them  in 
their  proper  circumstances  of  majesty  and 
beauty.  Something  like  magic  has  struck 
my  mind,  on  a  transient  and  imthinking 
sun'ey  of  the  etherial  vault,  tinged  through- 
out with  the  piu-est  aziu-e,  and  decorated 
with  innumerable  starry  lamps.  I  have 
felt  I  know  not  what  powerful  and  aggran- 
dizing imj)ulse,  which  seemed  to  snatch  me 
from  the  low  entanglements  of  vanity,  and 
prompted  an  ardent  sigh  for  sublimer  ob- 
jects. Methought  I  heard,  even  from  the 
silent  spheres,  a  commanding  call  to  spurn 
the  abject  earth,  and  pant  after  unseen  de- 
lights. Henceforward  I  hope  to  imbibe 
more  copiously  this  moral  emanation  of 
the  skies,  when,  in  some  such  manner  as 
the  preceding,  they  are  rationally  seen,  and 
the  sight  is  didy  improved.  The  stars,  I 
trust,  will  teach  as  well  as  shine,  and  help 
to  dispel  both  nature's  gloom,  and  my  in- 
tellectual darkness.  To  some  people  they 
discharge  no  better  service  than  that  of 
holding  a  flambeau  to  their  feet  and  soften- 
ing the  horrors  of  their  night.  To  me  and 
my  friends  may  they  act  as  ministers  of  a 
superior  order,  as  counsellors  of  wisdom, 
and  guides  to  happiness  !  Nor  will  they  fail 
to  execute  this  nobler  office,  if  they  gently 
light  our  way  into  the  knowledge  of  their 
adored  Maker;  if  they  point  out  with  their 
silver  rays  our  path  to  his  beatific  presence. 

I  gaze,  I  ponder !  I  ponder,  I  gaze  !  and 
think  ineflfable  things.  I  roU  an  eye  of 
awe  and  admiration.  Again  and  again  I 
repeat  my  ravished  views,  and  can  never 
satiate  either  my  curiosity  or  my  inquiry. 
I  spring  my  thoughts  into  this  immense 
field,  till  even  fancy  tires  upon  her  wing, 
I  find  wonders  ever  new ;  wonders  more 
and  more  amazing.  Yet,  after  all  my  pre- 
sent inquiries,  what  a  mere  nothing  do  I 
know  !  by  all  my  future  researches,  how 
little  shall  I  be  able  to  learn  of  those  vastly 
distant  suns,  and  their  circling  retinue  of 
worlds  !  Could- 1  piy  with  Newton's  pierc- 
ing sagacity,  or  launch  into  his  extensive 


ON  THE  STAilRY   HEAVENS. 


1-27 


surveys,  even  then  my  ai)prelieiisions  would 
be  little  better  than  those  dim  and  scanty 
images  which  the  mole,  just  emerged  from 
her  cavern,  receives  on  her  feeble  optic. 
This,  sure,  should  repress  all  impatient  or 
immoderate  ardour  to  pry  into  the  secrets 
of  the  starry  structures,  and  make  me  more 
j)articularly  careful  to  cultivate  my  heart. 
To  fathom  the  de])ths  of  the  divine  es- 
sence, or  to  scan  universal  nature  with  a 
critical  exactness,  is  an  attempt  which  sets 
the  acutest  philosopher  very  nearly  on  a 
level  with  the  idiot;  since  it  is  almost,  if 
not  altogether,  as  impracticable  by  the 
former,  as  by  the  latter. 

Be  it  then  my  chief  study,  not  to  pursue 
what  is  absolutely  unnattainable,  but  rather 
to  seek  what  is  obvious  to  find,  easy  to  be 
acquired,  and  of  inestimable  advantage 
when  possessed.  O!  let  me  seek  that  cha- 
rity which  edifieth,*  that  faith  which  puri- 
fieth.  Love,  humble  love,  not  conceited 
science,  keeps  the  door  of  heaven.  Faith, 
a  child-like  tliith  in  Jesus,  not  the  haughty 
self-sufficient  spirit  which  scorns  to  be  ig- 
norant of  any  thing,  presents  a  keyf  to 
those  abodes  of  bliss.  This  present  state 
is  the  scene  destined  to  the  exercise  of  de- 
votion, the  invisible  world  is  the  place  ap- 
pointed for  the  enjoyment  of  knowledge. 
There,  the  dawni  of  our  infantile  minds  will 
be  advanced  to  the  maturity  of  perfect  day  ; 
or  rather,  there  our  midnight  shades  will  be 
brightened  into  all  the  lustre  of  noon. 
There  the  souls  which  come  from  the 
school  of  faith,  and  bring  with  them  the 
principles  of  love,  will  dwell  in  light  itself; 
will  be  obscured  with  no  darkness  at  all ;  will 
know,  even  as  they  are  known.  (1  Cor.  xiii. 
12. )  Such  an  acquaintance,  therefore,  do  I 
desire  to  form,  and  to  caiTy  on  such  a  corres- 
j)ondence  with  the  heaveidy  bodies,  as  may 
shed  a  benign  influence  on  the  seeds  of  grace 


•  1  Cor.  viii.  1.  I  need  not  inform  my  reader,  that 
in  this  text  in  that  admirable  chapter,  1  Cor.  xiii. 
and  in  various  other  passages  of  scripture,  the  word 
charity,  should  by  no  means  be  confined  to  the  parti- 
cular art  of  alms-giving,  or  external  beneficence.  It 
is  of  a  much  more  exalted  and  extensive  nature.  It 
signifies  that  divinely  precious  grace  which  warms 
the  soul  with  supreme  love  to  God,  and  enlarges  it 
with  disinterested  affection  for  men,  which  renders  it 
the  reigning  care  of  the  life,  and  chief  delight  of  the 
heart,  to  promote  the  happiness  of  the  one,  and  the 
glory  of  the  other.  This,  this  is  that  charity  of 
which  so  many  excellent  things  are  everywhere 
spoken;  which  can  never  be  too  highly  extolled,  or 
too  earnestly  coveted,  since  it  is  the  image  of  God, 
and  the  very  spirit  of  heaven. 

t  The  Righteousness  of  Christ, — Tltis  is  what 
Milton  beautifully  styles 

-The  golden  key 


That  opens  the  palace  of  eternity. 


implanted  in  my  breast.  Let  the  exalted 
tracts  of  the  firmament  sink  my  soul  into 
deep  humiliation.  Let  those  eternal  fires 
kindle  in  my  heart  an  adoring  gratitude  to 
their  Almighty  Sovereign.  Let  yonder 
ponderous  and  enormous  globes,  which  rest 
on  his  supporting  arm,  teach  me  an  un- 
shaken affiance  in  their  incarnate  Maker ; 
then  shall  I  be,  if  not  wise  as  the  astrono- 
mical adept,  yet  wise  mito  salvation. 

Having  now  walked  and  worshipped  in 
this  universal  temple,  that  is  arched  with 
skies,  emblazed  with  stars,  and  extended 
even  to  immensity  ;  having  cast  an  eye, 
like  the  enraptured  patriarch,  (Gen.  xv.  5,) 
an  eye  of  reason  and  devotion  through  the 
magnificent  scene  ;  with  the  former,  having 
discovered  an  infinitude  of  worlds,  and  with 
the  latter,  having  met  the  Deity  in  every 
view;  having  beheld,  as  Moses  in  the  flam- 
ing bush,  a  glimpse  of  Jehovah's  excellen- 
cies, reflected  from  the  several  planets,  and 
streaming  from  myriiids  of  celestial  lumin- 
aries ;  having  read  various  lessons  iti  that 
stupendous  book  of  wisdom,*  where  un- 
measurable  sheets  of  azure  compose  the 
page  ;  and  orbs  of  radiance  write,  in  ever- 
lasting characters,  a  comment  upon  our 
creed.  What  remains  but  that  I  close  the 
midnight  solemnity,  as  our  Lord  concluded 
his  grand  sacramental  constitution,  with  a 
song  of  praise  ?  And  behold  a  hymn,  suited 
to  the  sublime  occasion,  indited  by  Inspira- 
tion itself,  (Psalm  xix. )  tiansferred  into  our 
language,  by  onef  of  the  happiest  efforts  of 
human  ingenuity. 

Thesjvicious  finnament  on  high. 

With  all  the  blue  etherial  sky. 

And  spangled  heav'ns — a  shining  frame. 

Their  great  original  proclaim  : 

Th'  unwearied  sun,  from  day  to  day. 

Does  his  Creator's  power  display ; 

And  publishes  to  ev'ry  land. 

The  work  of  an  Almighty  hand. 

Soon  as  the  ev'ning  shades  prevail. 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale ; 
And  nightly,  to  the  list'ning  earth. 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth ; 
While  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn. 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn. 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll. 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

What  though  in  solemn  silence  all 

Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball  ? 

What  though  no  real  voice  nor  sound 

Amid  their  radiant  orbs  be  found  ? 

In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice. 

And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice. 

For  ever  singing  as  they  shine, 

"  The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine." — Addison. 


Is  as  the  book  of  God  before  thee  set, 
Wherein  to  read  his  wondrous  works. — Milt. 
t  Addison,  Spect.  Vol.  vi.  No.  465. 


WINTER-PIECE. 


It  is  true,  in  the  delightful  seasons,  his  ten- 
derness and  his  love  are  most  eminently  dis- 
played. In  the  vernal  months,  all  is  beau- 
ty to  the  eye,  and  music  to  the  ear  :  The 
clouds  drop  fatness ;  the  air  softens  into 
balm ;  and  flowers  in  rich  abundance  spring 
wherever  we  tread,  bloom  wherever  we 
look.  Amidst  the  burning  heats  of  sum- 
mer, he  expands  the  leaves  and  thickens  the 
shades  ;  he  spreads  the  cooling  arbour  to 
receive  us,  and  awakes  the  gentle  breeze  to 
fan  us  :  The  moss  swells  into  a  couch  for 
the  repose  of  our  bodies ;  while  the  rivulet 
softly  rolls  and  sweetly  murmurs,  to  soothe 
our  imagination.  In  autumn,  his  bounty 
covers  the  fields  \\dth  a  profusion  of  nutri- 
menttil  treasure,  and  bends  the  boughs  with 
loads  of  delicious  fruit  ;  he  fiu-nishes  his 
hospitable  board  wath  present  plenty,  and 
prepares  a  copious  magazine  for  future 
wants.  But  is  it  only  in  these  smiling  pe- 
riods of  the  year  that  God,  the  all-gracious 
God,  is  seen  ?  Has  winter,  stem  winter,  no 
tokens  of  his  presence  ?  Yes,  all  things  are 
eloquent  of  his  praise :  "  His  way  is  in  the 
whklwind  ;"  storms  and  tempests  fulfil  his 
word,  and  extol  his  power;  even  piercing 
frosts  bear  witness  to  his  goodness,  while 
they  bid  the  shivering  nations  tremble  at  his 
wrath.  Be  \vinter,  then,  for  a  while,  our 
theme.*  Perhaps  those  barren  scenes  may 
be  fruitful  in  intellectual  improvement  ; 
perhaps  that  rigorous  cold  which  binds  the 
earth  in  icy  chains,  may  serve  to  enlarge  our 
hearts,  and  warm  them  with  holy  love. 

See  !  how  the  day  is  shortened !      The 
sun,  detained  in  fairer  climes,  or  engaged  in 


*  A  sketch  of  this  nature,  I  must  acknowledge,  is 
quite  different  from  the  subject  of  the  book;  and,  I 
cannot  but  declare,  was  as  far  distant  from  the 
thoughtsof  the  author.  But  the  desire  of  several  ac- 
quaintances, together  with  an  intimation  of  its  useful- 
ness, by  a  very  polite  letter  from  an  unknown  hand, 
(which  has  utidesignedly  furnished  nie  with  the  best 
motto  I  could  recollect,)  prevailed  with  me  to  add  a 
few  descriptive  touches  and  improving  hints,  on  what 
is  so  often  experienced  in  these  northeru  regions.  I 
hope  the  attempt  I  have  made  to  oblige  these  gen- 
tlemen will  obtain  the  approbation,  or  at  least  the 
ciLcuse  of  my  readers. 


more  agreeable  senices,  rises,  like  an  un- 
willing visitant,  with  tardy  and  reluctant 
steps.  He  walks  with  a  shy  indifference 
along  the  edges  of  the  southern  sky ;  cast- 
ing an  oblique  glance,  he  just  looks  upon 
our  dejected  world,  and  scarcely  scatters 
light  through  the  thick  air.  Dim  is  his  ap- 
pearance, languid  are  his  gleams,  while  he 
continues ;  or,  if  he  chance  to  wear  a  bright- 
er aspect,  and  a  cloudless  brow,  yet,  like 
the  young  and  gay  in  the  house  of  mourn- 
ing, he  seems  uneasy  till  he  is  gone,  is  in 
haste  to  depart.  And  let  him  depart  : 
Why  should  we  wish  for  his  longer  stay, 
since  he  can  show  us  nothing  but  the  crea- 
tion in  distress  ?  The  flowery  families  lie 
dead,  and  the  tuneful  tribes  are  struck 
dumb  ;  the  trees,  stript  of  their  verdure, 
and  lashed  by  storms,  spread  their  naked 
arms  to  the  enraged  and  relentless  heavens. 
Fragrance  no  longer  floats  in  the  air,  but 
chilling  damps  hover,  or  cutting  gales  blow. 
Nature,  divested  of  all  her  beautiful  robes, 
sits,  like  a  forlorn  disconsolate  widow  in 
her  weeds  ;  while  mnds  in  doleful  accents 
howl,  and  rains  in  repeated  showers  weep. 
We  regret  not,  therefore,  the  speedy  de- 
parture of  the  day.  When  the  room  is 
hung  with  funeral  black,  and  dismal  objects 
are  all  around,  who  would  desire  to  have 
the  glimmering  taper  kept  alive,  which  can 
only  discover  spectacles  of  sorrow,  can  only 
make  the  hoiTor  visible  ?  And  since  this 
mortal  life  is  little  better  than  a  continual 
conflict  ^\'ith  sin,  or  an  unremitted  struggle 
with  miserj',  is  it  not  a  gracious  ordination, 
which  has  reduced  oiu:  age  to  a  span  ? 
Fourscore  years  of  trial  for  the  virtuous, 
are  sufficiently  long ;  and  more  than  such 
a  term  allowed  to  the  wicked,  would  render 
them  beyond  all  measure  vile.  Our  way  to 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  lies  through  tribula- 
tions. Shall  we  then  accuse,  shall  we  not 
rather  bless  the  Providence,  which  has 
made  the  passage  short  ?  Soon,  soon  we 
cross  the  vale  of  tears  ;  and  then  arrive  on 
the  happy  hills  where  light  for  ever  shines, 
where  joy  for  ever  smiles. 


A  WINTER-PIECE. 


129 


'  Sometimes  the  day  is  rendered  shorter 
still ;  is  almost  blotted  out  from  the  year. 
The  vapours  gather,  they  thicken  into  an 
impenetrable  gloom,  and  obscure  the  face 
of  the  sky.  At  length  the  rains  descend  ; 
the  sluices  of  the  firmament  are  opened,  and 
the  low-hung  clouds  poiu"  their  congregated 
.stores.  Copious  and  unintcrmitted,  still 
they  pour,  and  still  are  unexhausted.  The 
waters  drop  incessantly  from  the  eaves,  and 
rush  in  rapid  streams  from  the  spouts  : 
They  roar  along  the  channelled  pavements, 
and  stand  in  foul  shallows  on  the  vil- 
lage streets.  Now,  if  the  inattentive  eye, 
or  negligent  hand,  has  left  the  roof  but  scan- 
tily covered,  the  insinuating  element  finds 
its  way  into  every  flaw,  and  oozing  through 
the  ceiling,  at  once  upbraids  and  chastises 
the  careless  inhabitant.  The  ploughman, 
soaked  to  the  skin,  leaves  his  half-tiUed 
acre  ;  the  poor  poultry,  dripping  with  wet, 
crowd  into  shelter  j  the  tenants  of  the  bough 
fold  up  their  wings,  afraid  to  launch  into  the 
streaming  air ;  the  beasts,  joyless  and  dis- 
pirited, ruminate  under  their  shades  ;  the 
roads  swim  and  the  brooks  swell.  The  ri- 
ver, amidst  all  this  watery  ferment,  long  con- 
tained itself  within  its  appointed  bounds  ; 
but  swollen  by  innumerable  currents,  and 
roused  at  last  into  incontroUable  rage,  bursts 
over  its  banks,  shoots  into  the  plain,  bears 
down  all  opposition,  spreads  itself  far  and 
wide,  and  buries  the  meadow  under  a  brown, 
sluggish,  soaking  deluge. 

How  happy  for  man,  that  this  inundation 
comes  when  there  are  no  flowery  crops  in 
the  valley  to  be  overwhelmed,  no  field 
standing  thick  with  corn  to  be  laid  waste  ! 
At  such  a  juncture,  it  would  have  been 
ruin  to  the  husbandman  and  his  family  : 
but  thus  timed,  it  yields  manm-e  for  his 
ground,  and  promises  him  riches  in  rever- 
sion. How  often,  and  how  long  has  the 
divine  Majesty  borne  with  the  most  injur- 
ious afl^ronts  from  siimers  !  His  goodness 
triumphed  over  their  perverseness,  and  gra- 
ciously refused  to  be  exasperated.  But,  O 
presumptuous  creatures,  multiply  no  long- 
er your  provocations  ;  urge  not,  by  repeat- 
ed iniquities,  the  almighty  arm  to  strike  ; 
lest  his  long  sufl^ering  cease,  and  his  fierce 
anger  break  forth  :  break  forth  like  a  flood 
of  waters,  (Hosea  v.  10,)  and  sweep  you 
away  into  irrecoverable  and  everlasting  per- 
dition. 

How  mighty,  how  majestic,  and  O  !  how 
mysterious  are  thy  works,  thou  God  of  hea- 
ven, and  Lord  of  nature  !  Wlien  the  air  is 
calm,  where  sleep  the  stormy  winds,  in  wliat 
chambers  aie  they  reposed,  or  in  what  dun- 
geons confined,  till  thou  art  pleased  to  awa- 
ken their  rage,  and  tlirow  open  their  prison 
doors  ?  Then,  with  irresistible  impetuosity, 
they  fly  forth,  scattering  dread  and  mana- 
cing  destruction. 


The  atmosphere  is  hurled  into  the  most 
tumultuous  confusion.  The  aereal  torrent 
bursts  its  way  over  mountains,  seas,  and 
continents.  All  things  feel  the  dreadful 
shock.  All  things  tremble  before  tlie  fu- 
rious blast.  The  forest,  vexed  and  torn, 
groans  under  the  scourge,  her  sturdy  sons 
are  strained  to  the  very  root,  and  almost 
sweep  the  soil  they  were  wont  to  shade. 
The  stubborn  oak,  that  disdains  to  bend,  is 
dashed  headlong  to  the  ground,  and  with 
shattered  arms,  with  prostrate  trunk,  blocks 
the  road.  While  the  flexile  reed,  that 
springs  up  in  the  marsh,  yielding  to  the 
gust  (as  the  meek  and  pliant  temper  to  in- 
juries, or  the  resigned  and  patient  spirit  to 
misfortunes)  eludes  the  force  of  the  storm, 
and  survives  amidst  the  wide-spread  havoc. 

For  a  moment  the  turbulent  and  out- 
rageous sky  seems  to  be  assuaged;  but  it 
intermits  its  wrath,  only  to  increase  its 
strength.  Soon  the  sounding  squadrons  of 
the  air  return  to  the  attack,  and  renew  their 
ravages  with  redoubled  fury.  The  stately 
dome  rocks  amidst  the  wheeling  clouds ; 
the  impregnable  tower  totters  on  its  basis, 
and  threatens  to  overwhelm  whom  it  was 
intended  to  protect:  The  ragged  rock  is 
rent  in  pieces,  (1  Kings  xix.  11,)  and  even 
the  hills,  the  pei-petual  hills,  on  their  deep 
foundations,  are  scarcely  secure.  Where, 
now,  is  the  place  of  safety,  when  the  city 
reels,  and  houses  become  heaps  ?  Sleep  af- 
frighted flies  ;  diversion  is  turned  into  hor- 
ror :  aU  is  uproar  in  the  element ;  all  is 
consternation  among  mortals  ;  and  nothing 
but  one  wide  scene  of  rueful  devastation 
through  the  land.  Yet  this  is  only  an  in- 
ferior minister  of  divine  displeasure ;  the 
executioner  of  milder  indignation.  How 
then,  O  !  how  will  the  lofty  looks  of  man 
be  humbled,  and  the  haughtiness  of  men 
be  bowed  down,*  when  the  Lord  God 
Omnipotent  shall  meditiite  terror,  when  he 
shall  set  all  his  terrors  in  array,  when  he 
arises  to  judge  the  nations,  and  to  shake 
terribly  the  earth  ! 

The  ocean  swells  with  tremendous  com- 
motions. The  ponderous  waves  are  heav- 
ed from  their  capacious  bed,  and  almost 
lay  bare  the  unfathomable  deep.  Hung  in- 
to the  most  rapid  agitation,  they  sweep  over 


•  Mortalia  corda 

Per  gentishumilis  str.ivit  pavor. — Virg. 
One  would  almost  imagine,  that  Virgil  had  read  Isa- 
iah, and  borrowed  this  idea  from  chap.  ii.  ver.  11. 
The  humilisand  stravit  of  the  one,  so  exactly  corres- 
pond with  the — humbled — bowed  down — oftheother. 
lint,  in  one  circumstance,  the  prophet  is  very  much 
superior  to  the  poet.  The  prophet,  by  giving  a  strik- 
ing contrast  to  his  sentiments,  represeiitj  them  with 
incomparably  greater  energy.  lie  sayi,  not  men  in 
the  gross,  or  the  human  heart  in  general ;  but  men  of 
the  most  elated  looks,  hearts  big  with  the  most  arro- 
gant imaginations.  Even  these  shall  stoop  from 
their  supercilious  heights,  even  these  shall  grovel  in 
trie  dust  of  abasement,  and  shudder  with  all  the  ex- 
tremes of  an  abject  pusillanimity. 
K 


130 


A  WINTER-PIECE, 


the  rocks,  tliey  lasli  the  lofty  cliffs,  and  toss 
themselves  into  the  clouds.  Navies  are 
rent  from  their  anchors  ;  and,  with  all  their 
enormous  load,  are  whirled,  swift  as  the  ar- 
row, wild  as  the  winds,  along  the  vast  abyss. 
Now,  they  climb  the  rolling  mountain,  they 
plough  the  frightful  ridge,  and  seem  to  skim 
the  skies  ;  anon,  they  plunge  into  the  open- 
ing gulf,  they  lose  the  sight  of  day,  and  are 
lost  themselves  to  eveiy  eye.  How  vain  is 
the  pilot's  art !  how  impotent  the  mariner's 
strength  !  They  reel  to  and  fro,  and  stagger 
in  the  jarring  hold,  or  cling  to  the  cordage, 
while  bursting  seas  foam  over  the  deck. 
Despair  is  in  every  face,  and  death  sits 
threatening  on  every  surge.  But  why,  O 
ye  astonished  mariners !  why  should  you 
abandon  yourselves  to  despair  ?  Is  the  Lord's 
hand  shortened,  because  the  waves  of  the  sea 
rage  horribly  ?  Is  his  ear  deafened  by  the 
roaring  thunders,  and  the  bellowing  tem- 
pest ?  Cry,  cry  unto  him,  who  '^  holdeth 
the  wnds  in  his  fist,  and  the  waters  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand. "  He  is  all-gracious  to 
hear,  and  almighty  to  save.  If  he  command, 
the  storm  shall  be  hushed  to  silence  ;  the 
billows  shall  subside  into  a  calm  ;  the  light- 
nings shall  lay  their  fiery  bolts  aside  ;  and, 
instead  of  sinking  in  a  watery  grave,  you 
shall  find  yoiu-selves  brought  to  the  desired 
haven. 

Sometimes,  after  a  joyless  day,  a  more 
dismal  night  succeeds.  The  lazy  loiu-ing 
vapours  had  wove  so  thick  a  veil  as  the  me- 
ridian sun  coidd  scarcely  penetrate.  What 
gloom  then  must  overwhelm  the  nocturnal 
hours  !  The  moon  withdi'aws  her  shining  ; 
not  a  single  star  is  able  to  straggle  through 
the  deep  arrangement  of  shades  ;  all  is 
pitchy  darkness,  without  one  enlivening  ray. 
How  solemn  !  how  awful !  It  is  like  the 
shroud  of  nature,  or  the  return  of  chaos  ! 
I  do  not  wonder  that  it  is  the  parent  of  ter- 
rors, and  so  apt  to  engender  melancholy. 
Lately  the  tempest  marked  its  rapid  way 
with  mischief ;  now,  the  night  dresses  her 
silent  pavilion  with  horror. 

I  have  sometimes  left  the  burning  tapers, 
Witlidrawn  from  the  ruddy  fire,  and  plunged 
into  the  thickest  of  these  sooty  shades  ; 
without  regretting  the  change,  rather  exult- 
ing in  it  as  a,  welcome  deliverance.  The 
very  gloom  was  pleasing,  was  exhilarating, 
comjiared  with  the  conversation  I  quitted. 
The  speech  of  my  companions  (how  does 
it  grieve  me,  that  I  should  even  once  have 
occasion  to  call  them  by  that  name  !)  was 
the  language  of  darkness — was  horror  to  the 
soul,  and  torture  to  the  ear.*  Their  teeth 
were  spears  and  arrows,  and  their  tongue  a 


sharp  sword,  to  stab  and  assassinate  th'  if 
neighboiu-'s  character.  Their  throat  w;ts 
an  open  sepulchre,  gaping  to  devour  the  re- 
putation of  the  innocent,  or  tainting  the  air 
with  their  vimlent  and  polluted  breath. 
Sometimes  their  licentious  and  ungoverna- 
ble discourse  shot  arrows  of  profaneness 
against  heaven  itself,  and,  in  proud  defiance 
challenged  the  resentment  of  Omnipotence. 
Sometimes,  as  if  it  were  the  glory  of  human 
nature  to  cherish  the  grossest  appetites  of 
the  brute,  or  the  mark  of  a  gentleman  to 
have  served  an  apprenticeship  in  a  brothel, 
the  filthiest  jests  of  the  stews  (if  low  ob- 
scenity can  be  a  jest)  were  nauseously  ob- 
truded on  the  company.  All  the  modest 
part  were  offended  and  grieved  ;  while  the 
other  besotted  creatures  laughed  aloud, 
though  the  leprosy  of  uncleanness  appeared 
on  their  lips.  Are  not  these  persons  pri- 
soners of  darkness,  though  blazing  sconces- 
pour  artificial  day  through  their  rooms. 
Are  not  their  souls  immured  in  the  most 
baleful  shades,  though  the  noontide  sun  is 
brightened  by  flaming  on  their  gilded  cha- 
riots ?  They  discern  not  that  great  and 
adorable  Being,  who  fills  the  universe  witk 
his  infinite  and  glorious  presence  ;  who  is- 
all  eye  to  observe  their  actions,  all  ear  to- 
examine  their  words.  They  know  not  the 
all-sufficient  Redeemer,  nor  the  unspeaka- 
ble blessedness  of  his  heavenly  kingdom. 
They  are  groping  for  the  prize  of  happiness, 
but  will  certainly  grasp  the  thorn  of  anxie- 
ty :  They  are  wantonly  sporting  on  the 
brink  of  a  precipice  ;  and  are  every  mo- 
ment in  danger  of  falling  headlong  into  ir- 
retrievable ruin,  and  endless  despair. 

They  have  forced  me  out,  and  are,  per- 
haps, deriding  me  in  my  absence  ;  are 
charging  my  reverence  for  the  ever-present 
God,  and  my  concern  for  the  dignity  of  our 
rational  nature,  to  the  account  of  humour 
and  singidarity  ;  to  narrowness  of  thought, 
or  sourness  of  temper.  Be  it  so.  I  will 
indulge  no  indignation  against  them.  If 
any  thing  like  it  should  arise,  I  will  convert 
it  into  prayer  -.  "  Pity  them,  O  thou  Fa- 
ther of  mercies  !  Show  them  the  madness 
of  their  profaneness  !  show  them  the  base- 
ness of  their  vile  ribaldry  !  Let  their  disso- 
lute rant  be  turned  into  silent  soiTow  and 
confusion,  till  they  open  their  lips  to  adoi'e 
thy  insulted  majesty,  and  to  implore  thy 
gracious  pardon  ;  till  they  devote  to  thy 
service  those  social  hours,  and  those  supe- 
rior faculties,  which  they  are  now  abusing  ta 


*  What  has  been  said,  I  ask'd  my  soul,  what  done  ? 
How  flow'd  our  mirth  ?  or  whence  the  source  begun  ? 
Perhaps  the  jest,  that  charmed  the  sprightly  crowd, 
And  made  the  jovial  table  laugh  so  loud. 


To  some  false  notion  ow'd  its  p~or  pretence. 
To  an  ambiguous  word's  pervei  ted  sense  i 
To  a  wild  sonnet,  or  a  wanton  air, 
Oifenceand  torture  to  the  sober  ear. 

Perhaps,  alas!  the  pleasing  stream  was  brought 
From  this  man's  error,  from  another's  fault : 
From  topics,  whkhgood  nature  would  forget. 
And  prudence  mention  with  the  last  regret. 

PiHor's  Sulotnvn* 


A  WINTER-PIECE. 


131 


tbe  dishonour  of  thy  name,  to  the  conta- 
mination of  their  own  souls,  and  (unless 
timely  repentance  intervene)  to  their  ever- 
lasting infamy  and  perdition. 

I  ride  home  amidst  the  gloomy  void.  All 
darkling  and  solitary,  I  can  scarce  discern 
my  horse's  head,  and  only  guess  out  my 
blind  road.  No  companion  but  danger,  or 
perhaps  destniction  ready  at  my  side.  (Job 
xviii.  12.)  But  why  do  I  fancy  myself  so- 
litary ?  Is  not  the  Father  of  lights,  the  God 
of  my  life,  the  great  and  everlasting  friend, 
always  at  my  right  hand  ?  Because  the  day 
is  excluded,  is  his  omnipresence  vacated  ? 
Though  I  have  no  earthly  acquaintance  near 
to  assist  in  case  of  a  misfortune,  or  to  be- 
guile the  time  and  divert  uneasy  suspi- 
cions by  enterfaiining  conferences  ;  may  I 
not  lay  my  help  upon  the  Almighty,  and 
converse  with  God  by  humble  supplication  ? 
For  this  exercise,  no  place  is  improper,  no 
hour  unseasonable,  and  no  posture  incom- 
modious. This  is  society,  the  best  of  so- 
ciety, even  in  solitude :  This  is  a  fund  of 
delights,  easily  portable,  and  quite  inex- 
haustible. A  treasure  this  of  imknown  va- 
lue, liable  to  no  hazard  from  WTong  or  rob- 
ber\' ;  but  perfectly  secure  to  tiie  lonely 
wanderer  in  the  most  darksome  paths. 

And  why  should  I  distress  myself  with 
apprehensions  of  peril  ?  This  access  to  God 
is  not  only  an  indefeasible  privilege,  but  a 
kind  of  ambulatory  garrison.  Those  who 
make  known  their  requests  unto  God,  and 
rely  upon  his  protecting  care,  he  gives  his 
angels  charge  over  their  welfare.  His  an- 
gels are  commissioned  to  escort  them  in 
their  travelling,  and  to  hold  up  their  goings, 
that  they  dash  not  their  foot  against  a  stone, 
(Psalm  xci.  11,  12.)  Nay,  he  himself  con- 
descends to  be  their  guardian,  and  "  keeps 
all  their  bones,  so  that  not  one  of  them  is 
broken.  "  Between  these  persons,  and  the 
most  mischievous  objects,  a  treaty  of  peace 
is  concluded.  The  articles  of  this  grand 
alliance  are  recorded  in  the  book  of  Reve- 
lation ;  and  will,  when  it  is  for  the  real  be- 
nefit of  believers,  assuredly  be  made  good 
in  the  administrations  of  Providence.  "  In 
that  day,"  saith  the  Lord,  "  I  ^^^ll  make  a 
covenant  for  them  with  the  beasts  of  the 
field,  and  with  the  fowls  of  heaven,  and  with 
the  creeping  things  of  the  ground ;  and  they 
shall  be  in  league  with  the  stones  of  the 
field."  (Job  v.  23.  Hos.  ii.  18.)  Though 
they  fall  headlong  on  the  flints,  even  the 
flints,  fitted  to  fracture  the  skull,  shall  re- 
ceive them  as  into  the  arms  of  friendship,  and 
not  oiTer  to  hurt  whom  the  Lord  is  pleased 
to  preserve. 

May  I  then  enjoy  the  presence  of  this 
gracious  God,  and  darkness  and  light  shall 
be  both  alike.  Let  Him  whisper  peace  to 
my  conscience,  and  tliis  dread  silence  shall 
be    more  charming  than  the  voice  of  elo- 


quence, or  the  strains  of  music.  Let  him 
reveal  his  ravishing  perfections  in  my  soul, 
and  I  shall  not  want  the  saffron  beauties 
of  the  mom,  the  golden  glories  of  noon, 
or  the  empurpled  evening  sky.  I  shall  sigh 
only  for  those  most  desirable  and  distin- 
guished realms,  where  the  light  of  his  coun- 
tenance perpetually  shines,  and  consequent- 
ly there  is  no  night  there.  (Rev.  xxi.  25.) 

How  surprising  axe  the  alterations  of  na- 
ture !  I  left  her  the  preceding  evening  plain 
and  unadorned  ;  but  now  a  thick  rime  has 
shed  its  hoary  honoiu-s  over  all  :  It  has 
shagged  the  fleeces  of  the  sheep,  and  crisped 
the  traveller's  locks  :  The  hedges  are  richly 
fringed,  and  all  the  ground  is  profusely 
powdered:  The  do\vnward  branches  are 
tasselled  with  silver,  and  the  upright  are 
feathered  with  the  plumy  wave. 

The  fine  are  not  always  the  valuable. 
The  air,  amidst  all  these  gaudy  decorations, 
is  charged  with  chilling  and  unwholesome 
damps  :  The  raw  hazy  influence  spreads 
wide,  sits  deep,  hangs  hea\'y  and  oppressive 
on  the  springs  of  life.  A  Listless  languor 
clogs  the  animal  functions,  and  the  purple 
stream  glides  but  faintly  through  its  chan- 
nels. In  vain  the  ruler  of  the  day  exerts 
his  beaming  powers  ;  in  vain  he  attempts  to 
disperse  this  insmrection  of  vapoiu-s.  The 
sullen  malignant  cloud  refuses  to  depart ; 
it  invelopes  the  world,  and  intercepts  the 
prospect.  I  look  abroad  for  the  neighbour- 
ing village  ;  I  send  my  eye  in  quest  of  the 
rising  turret ;  but  am  scarce  able  to  discern 
the  veiy  next  house.  Where  are  the  blue 
arches  of  heaven  ?  where  is  the  radiant 
countenance  of  the  sun  ?  where  the  bound- 
less scenes  of  crcarion  ?  Lost,  lost  are  their 
beauties  ;  quenched  their  glories.  The 
thronged  theatre  of  the  universe  seems  an 
empty  void,  and  all  its  elegant  pictiu-es  an 
undistinguished  bland.  Thus  would  it  have 
been  with  our  intellectual  \aews,  if  the  gos- 
pel had  not  come  in  to  our  relief.  We 
should  have  kno^vn  neither  oiu*  true  good, 
nor  real  e\-il.  We  had  been  a  riddle  to  om- 
sclves  ;  the  present  state  all  confusion,  and 
the  future  impenetrable  darkness.  But  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  arising  with  potent 
and  triumphant  beams,  has  dissipated  the 
interposing  cloud ;  has  opened  a  prospect 
more  beautifid  than  the  blossoms  of  spring, 
more  cheering  than  the  treasures  of  autumn, 
and  far  more  enlarged  than  the  extent  of 
the  visible  system  ;  which,  having  led  the 
eye  of  the  mind  through  fields  of  grace,  over 
rivers  of  righteousness,  and  hills  crownied 
^vith  knowledge,  terminates  at  length  in  the 
heavens,  sweetly  losing  itself  in  regions  of 
infinite  bliss  and  endless  glory. 

As  I  walk  along  the  fog,  it  seems,  at 
some  little  distance,  to  be  almost  solid 
gloom  ;  such  as  would  shut  out  evciy 
glimpse  of  light,  and  totally  imprison   me 


J  3-: 


A  WINTER-PIECE. 


in  obscurity.  Bnt  when  I  ap]jroach  and 
enter  it,  I  find  myself  agreeably  mistaken, 
and  the  mist  much  thinner  than  it  appeared. 
Such  is  the  case  uath  regard  to  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  present  life  ;  they  are  not,  when 
experienced,  so  dreadful  as  a  timorous  ima- 
gination surmised.  Such  also  is  the  case 
with  reference  to  the  gratifications  of  sense  ; 
they  prove  not,  when  enjoyed,  so  substan- 
tial as  a  sangiune  expectation  represented. 
In  both  instances,  we  are  graciously  disap- 
pointed. The  keen  edge  of  the  calamity 
is  blunted,  that  it  may  not  wound  us  with 
incurable  angiush:  the  exquisite  relish  of 
the  prosperity  is  palled,  that  it  may  not  cap- 
tivate our  affections,  and  enslave  them  to 
inferior  delights. 

Sometimes  the  face  of  things  wears  a 
more  pleasing  form,  the  very  i-everse  of  the 
foregoing.  The  sober  evening  advances  to 
close  the  short-lived  day  :  The  firmament, 
clear  and  unsullied,  puts  on  its  brightest 
blue  :  The  stars,  in  thronging  multitudes, 
and  ■\\'ith  a  peculiar  brilliancy,  glitter 
through  the  fau'  expanse,  while  the  frost 
pours  its  subtile  and  penetrating  influence 
all  around.  Sharp  and  intensely  severe,  all 
the  long  night,  the  rigid  ether  continues  its 
operations.  When,  late  and  slow,  the 
morning  opens  her  pale  eye,  in  what  a  cu- 
rious and  amusing  disguise  is  natui-e  dressed  ! 
The  icicles,  jagged  and  uneven,  are  pendent 
on  the  houses  ;  A  whitish  film  incrusts  the 
windows,  where  mimic  landscapes  rise,  and 
fancied  figures  swell :  The  fruitful  fields 
are  hardened  to  iron ;  the  moistened  meadows 
are  congealed  to  marble  ;  and  both  resound 
(an  effect  unknown  before)  with  the  ]>ea- 
sant's  hasty  tread.  The  stream  is  arrested 
in  its  career,  and  its  everflowing  surface 
chained  to  the  banks  :  The  fluid  paths  be- 
come a  solid  road :  where  the  finny  shoals 
were  wont  to  rove,  the  sportive  youth  slide, 
or  the  rattling  chariots  roll.  And  (what 
would  seem,  to  an  inhabitant  of  the  south- 
em  world,  as  unaccountable  as  the  deepest 
mysteries  of  our  religion)  that  very  same 
l)reath  of  heaven,  which  cements  the  lakes 
into  a  crystal  pavement,  cleaves  the  oaks, 
as  it  were  with  invisible  wedges  ;  "  breaks 
in  pieces  the  northern  iron  and  the  steel," 
even  while  it  builds  a  bridge  of  icy  rock 
over  the  seas.* 

The  air  is  all  serenity.  Refined  by  the 
nitrous  particles,  it  affords  the  most  distinct 
views  and  extensive  prospects.  The  seeds 
of  infection  are  killed,  and  the  pestilence 
destroyed,  even  in  embryo.  So,  the  cold 
of  affliction  tends  to  mortify  our  coiTuptlons, 


and  subdue  oiu"  vicious  habits.  The  crowd- 
ed atmosphere  constringes  our  bodies,  and 
braces  our  nerves.  The  spirits  are  buoyant, 
and  sally  briskly  on  the  execution  of  their 
office.  In  the  summer  months,  such  an  un- 
clouded sky,  and  so  bright  a  sun,  would 
have  melted  us  with  heat,  and  softened  us 
into  supineness.  We  shoidd  have  been 
ready  to  throw  our  limbs  under  the  spread- 
ing beach,  and  to  lie  at  ease  by  the  mur- 
muring brook.  But  now  none  loiters  in 
his  path  ;  none  is  seen  with  folded  arms  : 
All  is  in  motion,  all  is  activity.  Choice, 
prompted  by  the  weather,  supplies  the  spur 
of  necessity.  Thus,  the  rugged  school  of 
misfortune  often  trains  up  the  mind  to  a 
vigorous  exertion  of  its  faculties.  The 
bleak  climate  of  adversity  often  inspires  us 
with  a  manly  resolution  ;  when  a  soft  and 
dovvTiy  affluence,  perhaps,  would  have  re- 
laxed  all  the  generous  springs  of  the  soul, 
and  have  left  it  enervated  with  pleasure, 
or  dissolved  in  indolence. 

"  Cold  Cometh  out  of  the  north  ;  (Job 
xxxvii.  9. )  The  winds,  having  swept  those 
deserts  of  snow,  arm  themselves  with  mil- 
lions of  frozen  particles,  and  make  a  fierce 
descent  upon  oiu:  isle.  Under  black  and 
scowling  clouds,  they  drive,  dreadfully 
whizzing,  through  the  darkened  air.  They 
growl  around  oiu*  houses,  assaidt  om'  doors, 
and,  eager  for  entrance,  fasten  on  our  win- 
dows :  walls  can  scarce  restrain  them  ;  bars 
are  imable  to  exclude  them  :  through  every 
cranny  they  force  their  way :  Ice  is  on  their 
wings  ;  they  scatter  agues  through  the  land.; 
and  winter,  all  winter,  rages  as  they  go.. 
Their  breath  is  as  a  searing  iron*  to  the  little 
verdure  left  on  the  plains.  Vastly  more 
pernicious  to  the  tender  plants  than  the 
sharpest  knife,  they  kill  their  branches,  and 
wound  the  veiy  root.  Let  not  the  com 
venture  to  peep  too  freely  from  the  en- 
trenchment of  the  furrow  ;  let  not  the 
fruit-bearing  blossoms  dare  to  come  abroad 
from  their  lodgment  in  the  bai-k  ;  lest 
these  murderous  blasts  intercept  and  seize 
the  imwary  strangers,  and  destroy  the  hopes 
of  the  advancing  year. 

O,  it  is  severely  cold  !  Who  is  so  hardy 
as  not  to  shrink  at  this  excessively  pinching 
weather  ?  See  !  every  face  is  pale.  Even 
the  blooming  cheeks  contract  a  gelid  hue  ; 
and  the  teeth  hardly  forbear  chattering. 
Ye  that  sit  easy  and  joyous  amidst  your 
commodious  apartments,  solacing  yourselves 
in  the  diffusive  warmth  of  your  fire,  be 
mindful  of  your  brethren  in  the   cheerless 


*  Job  xxxviii.  00.  The  waters  are  hid,  locked  up 
from  the  cattle's  lips,  and  secured  from  the  fisher's 
net,  as  wells  were  wont  to  be  closed  with  a  ponderous 
and  imjienetrable  stone.  And  not  only  lakes  and  ri- 
vers, but  the  surface  of  the  great  deep,  with  its  rest- 
less and  uncontrollable  surges,  is  taken  captive  by  the 
Irost,  and  bound  in  shining  fetters. 


»  This,  I  suppose,  is  the  meaning  of  that  figurative 
expression  used  by  the  prophet  Habakkuk  :  who, 
speaking  of  the  Chaldeans  invading  Judea,  says, 
their  faces,  or  the  incursions  they  make,  shall  sup  up, 
shall  swallow  greedily,  shall  devour  utterly,  the  in- 
habitants of  the  country,  and  their  valuable  effects  v 
as  the  keen  corroding  blasts  of  the  east  wind  destro^f 
every  green  thing  in  the  field.   Hab.  i.  9. 


A  WINTER-PIECE. 


]nn 


tonement  of  poverty.  Their  sluittered 
panes  are  open  to  the  ])ierciiig  winds  ;  a 
tattered  garment  scareely  co\Trs  their  shiv- 
I'riiig  flesh  ;  while  a  few  faint  and  dying 
embers  on  the  squalid  hearth,  rather  nioek 
their  wishes  than  warm  their  limbs.  AVliile 
the  generous  juices  of  Oj)orto  sparkle  in 
your  glasses ;  or  the  streams,  beautifully 
tinged  and  deliciously  flavoured  M-ith  the 
Chinese  leaf,  smoke  in  the  elegant  porce- 
lain ;  O  remember,  that  many  of  your  fel- 
low-creatures, amidst  all  the  rigour  of  these 
inclement  skies,  are  emaciated  with  sick- 
ness, bemnnbed  with  age,  and  pining  with 
hunger.  Let  "  their  loins  bless  you,"  for 
comfortable  clothing.  Restore  tiem  with 
naedicine  ;  regale  them  with  food  ;  and 
baffle  the  raging  year.  So,  may  you  never 
know  any  of  their  distresses,  but  only  by 
the  hearing  of  the  ear,  the  seeing  of  the  eye, 
or  the  feeling  of  a  tender  commiseration  ! 
IMethinks,  tlie  bitter  blustering  winds  plead 
for  the  poor  indigents.  JMay  they  breathe 
jiity  into  yoiu-  breasts,  while  they  blow 
hardships  into  their  huts.  Observe  those 
blue  flames  and  ruddy  coiils  in  your  chim- 
ney :  quickened  by  the  cold,  they  look 
more  lively,  and  glow  more  strongly: — si- 
lent but  seasonable  admonition  to  the  gay 
circle,  that  chat  and  smile  aroimd  them  ! 
Thus  may  your  hearts,  at  such  a  juncture 
of  need,  kindle  into  a  peculiar  benevolence! 
Detain  not  your  superfluous  piles  of  wood ; 
let  them  hasten  to  the  relief  of  the  starv- 
ing family ;  bid  them  expire  in  many  a 
willing  blaze,  to  mitigate  the  severity  of 
the  season,  and  cheer  the  bleak  abodes  of 
want.  So  shall  they  ascend,  mingled  with 
thanksgivings  to  God,  and  ardent  prayers  for 
your  welfare  ;  ascend  more  grateful  to 
heaven,  than  columns  of  the  most  costly 
incense. 

Now  the  winds  «cease.  Having  brought 
their  load,  they  are  dismissed  from  service. 
They  have  wafted  an  immense  cargo  of 
clouds,  which  empty  themselves  in  snow. 
At  first,  a  few  scattered  shreds  come  wan- 
dering dovvn  the  saddened  sky.  This 
slight  skirmish  is  succeeded  by  a  general 
onset.  The  flakes,  large  and  numerous, 
and  thick  wavering,  descend.  They  dim 
the  air,  and  liasten  the  approach  of  night. 
Through  all  the  night,  in  softest  silence,  and 
with  a  continual  flow,  tliis  fleecy  shower 
falls.  In  the  morning,  when  we  awake, 
what  a  surprising  change  appears  !  Is  this 
the  same  world  ?  Here  is  no  diversity  of 
colour  :  I  can  hardly  distinguish  the  trees 
from  the  hills  on  which  they  grow  ;  which 
arc  the  meadows  and  which  the  i)lains  ; 
where  are  the  green  pastures,  and  where 
the  fallow  lands.  All  things  lie  blended 
in  bright  confusion, — so  bright,  tliat  it 
heightens  the  splendour  of  day,  and  even 
dazzles   the   org.ms    of  sight.      The    lawn 


is  not  so  fair  as  the  snowy  mantle  which  in- 
vests the  fields  ;  and  even  the  lily,  were 
the  lily  to  appear,  would  look  tarnished  in 
its  presence.  I  can  think  of  but  one  thing 
which  excels  or  equals  the  glittering  robe 
of  winter.  Is  any  person  desirous  to  know 
my  meaning  ?  He  may  find  it  explained  in 
that  admirable  hymn,*  composed  by  the 
Royal  penitent.  Is  any  desirous  to  pos- 
sess this  matchless  ornament  ?  He  will 
find  it  ofltred  to  his  acceptance  in  every 
page  of  the  gospel. 

See!  (for  the  eye  cannot  satisfy  itself 
without  viewing  again  and  again  the  curi- 
ous, the  delicate  scene,)  see  how  the  hed- 
ges are  habited,  like  spotless  vestals.  The 
houses  ai-e  roofed  with  uniformity  and  lus- 
tre. The  meadows  are  covered  with  a 
carpet  of  the  finest  ermine,  f  The  groves 
bow  beneath  the  lovely  burden;  and  all, 
all  below  is  one  wide,  immense,  shining 
waste  of  white.  By  deep  snows,  and  hea- 
vy rains,  God  scaleth  up  the  hand  of  every 
man,  and  for  this  purpose,  adds  our  sacred 
philosopher,  that  all  men  may  know  his 
work.  (Job  xxxvii.  7.)  He  confines 
them  within  their  doors,  and  puts  a  stoji  to 
their  secular  business,  that  they  may  consi- 
der the  things  \\hich  belong  to  their  sjjiri- 
tual  welfare  ;  that,  having  a  vacation  from 
their  ordinary  employ,  they  may  observe 
the  works  of  his  power,  and  become  ac- 
quainted v.ith  the  mysteries  of  his  grace. 

And  worthy,  \A'orthy  of  all  observation, 
are  the  works  of  the  great  Creator.  They 
are  prodigiously  various,  and  perfectly 
amaznig.  How  pliant  and  ductile  is  na- 
ture under  his  forming  hand  !  At  his  com- 
mand, the  self-same  substance  assumes  the 
most  difl^'erent  shapes,  and  is  transformed 
into  an  endless  multiplicity  of  figures.  If 
he  ordain,  the  water  is  moulded  into  hail, 
and  dischai-ged  upon  the  earth  like  a  vol- 
ley of  shot ;  or  it  is  consolidated  into  ice, 
and  defends  the  rivers,  "  as  it  were  with 
a  breast-plate."  At  the  bare  intimation  of 
his  will,  the  veiy  same  element  is  scattered 
in  hoar-frost,  like  a  sprinkling  of  the  most 
atteimated  ashes  ;  or  is  spread  over  the 
surface  of  the  ground,  in  these  couches  of 
swelling  and  flaky  down. 

The  snow,  however  it  may  carry  the  ap- 
pearance of  cold,  affords  a  warm  garment 
for  the  corn  ;  screens  it  from  nij)ping 
frosts,  and  cherishes  its  infant  growth.  It 
will  abide  for  a  whUe,  to  exert  a  protecting 


*  Can  any  thing  be  whiter  than  the  snow  ?  Yes, 
saith  David  ;  if  God  be  pleased  to  wash  ine  from  my 
sins  in  the  blood  of  Christ,  "  I  shall  be  even  whiter 
than  the  snow."      I'salin  )i.  7. 

t  This  animal  is  milk-white.  As  for  those  black 
spots  which  wecenerally  see  in  linings  of  ermine,  they 
are  .added  by  the  furrier,  in  order  to  diversify  the 
appearance,  or  heighten  the  beauty  of  the  native 
colour. 


134 


A  AFINTER-PIECE. 


care,  and  exercise  a  fostering  influence. 
Then,  touched  by  the  sun,  or  thawed  by  a 
softening  gale,  the  furry  vesture  melts  into 
genial  moistiu-e  ;  sinks  deep  in  the  soil, 
and  saturates  its  pores  with  the  dissohdng 
nitre :  replenishing  the  globe  with  those 
principles  of  vegetative  life,  which  will  open 
into  the  bloom  of  Spring,  and  ripen  into 
the  fruits  of  Autumn.  Beautiful  emblem 
this,  and  comfortable  representation  of  the 
divine  word,  both  in  the  successful  and 
advantageous  issue  of  its  operation  !  "  As 
the  rain  cometh  do\vn,  and  the  snow  from 
heaven,  and  retumeth  not  thither,  but  wa- 
tereth  the  earth,  and  maketh  it  bring  forth 
and  bud,  that  it  may  give  seed  to  the 
fiower,  and  bread  to  the  eater,  so  shall  my 
word  be,  that  goeth  forth  oat  of  my  mouth, 
it  shall  not  return  unto  me  void,  but  shall 
accomplish  that  v^hich  I  please,  and  it  shall 
prosper  in  the  thing  whereunto  I  send  it. " 
(Isaiah  Iv.  10,  11.) 

Nature  at  length  puts  off  her  lucid  veil. 
She  drops  it  in  a  trickling  thaw.  The 
loosened  snow  rolls  in  sheets  from  the 
houses.  Various  openings  spot  the  hills, 
which,  even  while  we  look  become  larger 
and  more  numerous.  The  trees  rid  them- 
selves by  degrees  of  the  hoary  incumbrance. 
Shook  from  the  springing  boughs,  part  falls 
heavy  to  the  ground,  part  tiies  abroad  in 
shining  atoms.  Our  fields  and  gardens, 
lately  buried  beneath  the  diifted  heaps,  rise 
plain  and  distinct  to  view.  Since  we  see 
iiatm-e  once  again,  has  she  no  verdant 
traces,  no  beautiful  featiu-es  left  ?  They 
are,  like  real  friends,  very  rare  ;  and  there- 
fore the  more  particularly  to  be  regarded, 
the  more  highly  to  be  valued.  Here  and 
there  the  holly  hangs  out  her  glowing  ber- 
ries, the  laurustinus  spreads  her  gi'aceful 
tufts,  and  both  under  a  covert  of  imfading 
foliage.  The  plain  but  hardy  ivy  clothes 
the  decrepit  crazy  wall,  nor  shrinks  from 
the  friendly  office,  though  the  skies  frown 
and  the  storm  roars.  The  laiu'el,  firm, 
erect,  and  bold,  expands  its  leaf  of  vivid 
green.  In  spite  of  the  united,  the  repeated  at- 
tacks of  wind,  and  rain,  and  frost,  it  preserves 
an  undismayed  lively  look,  and  maintains 
its  post,  while  withering  millions  fall  around. 
Worthy,  by  vanquishing  the  rugged  force 
of  winter,  worthy  to  adorn  the  triumphant 
conqueror's  brow.  Nor  must  I  forget  the 
bay-tree,  which  sconis  to  be  a  mean  pen- 
sioner on  a  few  transient  sunny  gleams,  or, 
with  a  servile  obsequiousness,  to  vary  its 
appearance  in  conformity  to  the  changing 
seasons ;  by  such  indications  of  sterliU; 
worth,  and  staunch  resolution,  reading 
lectiu'e  to  the  j>oet's  genius,  whUe  it  weaves 
the  chaplet  for  his  temples.  These,  and  a 
few  other  plants,  clad  with  native  verdure, 
retain  their  comely  aspect  in  the  bleakest 
climes,  and  in  the  coldest  months. 


Such,  and  so  durable,  are  the  accomplish-  ' 
ments  of  a  refined  understanding,  and  an 
amiable  temper.  The  tawdry  ornaments 
of  dress,  which  catch  the  unthinking  vulgar, 
soon  become  insipid  and  despicable.  The 
rubied  lip,  and  the  rosy  cheek,  fade.  Even 
the  sparkling  %vit,*  as  well  as  the  sparkling 
eye,  please  but  for  a  moment.  But  the 
virtuous  mind  has  charms,  which  survive 
the  decay  of  every  inferior  embellishment, 
charms  which  add  to  the  fragrancy  of  the 
flower,  the  permanency  of  the  ever-green. 

Such  likewise  is  the  happiness  of  the  sin- 
cerely religious,  like  a  tree,  says  the  inspir- 
ed moralist,  "whose  leaf  shall  not  fall." 
He  borrows  not  his  peace  from  external 
circumstances  ;  but  has  a  fund  Within,  and 
is  "satisfied  from  himself;"  (Prov.  xiv. 
14.)  Even  though  impoverished  by  cala- 
mitous accidents,  he  is  rich  in  the  posses- 
sion of  grace,  and  richer  in  the  hope  of 
glory.  His  joys  are  infinitely  superior  to, 
as  well  as  nobly  independent  of,  the  transi- 
tory glow  of  sensual  delight,  or  the  capri- 
cious favoiurs  of  what  the  world  calls,  For- 
tune. 

If  the  snow  composes  the  light-armed 
troops  of  the  sky,  methinks  the  haO  consti- 
tutes its  heavy  artillery.f  When  driven  by 
a  vehement  wind,  with  Avhat  dreadful  im- 
petuosity does  that  stony  shower  fall ! 
How  it  rebounds  from  the  frozen  ground, 
and  rattles  on  the  resounding  dome  !  It  at- 
tenuates the  rivers  into  smoke,  or  scourges 
them  into  foam.  It  cmshes  the  infant 
flowers,  cuts  in  pieces  the  gardener's  eai'ly 
plants,  and  batters  the   feeble  fortification 


*  "  How  little  docs  God  esteem  the  things  that 
men  count  {jreat !  the  endowments  of  wit  and  elo- 
quence that  men  admire  in  some  ;  alas  !  how  poor 
are  they  to  him  !  He  rcspecteth  not  any  who  are  wise 
in  heart ;  they  are  nothing,  and  less  than  nothing  in 
his  eyes.  Even  wise  men  admire  how  little  it  is  that 
men  know  ;  how  small  a  matter  lies  under  the  sound 
of  these  popular  wonders,  a  learned  man,  a  great 
nchulnr,  a  great  statesman.  How  much  more  doth 
the  all-wise  God  meanly  account  of  these  !  He  often 
discovers  even  to  the  world  their  meanness:  He  be- 
fools them.  So  valour,  or  birth,  or  worldly  greatness, 
these  he  gives,  and  gives  as  things  he  makes  no  great 
reckoning  of,  to  such  as  shall  never  see  his  face ;  and 
calls  to  the  inheritance  of  glory,  poor  despised  crea- 
tures, that  are  looked  on  as  the  olTscourings  and  re- 
fuse of  the  world." 

Thus  says  an  excellent  author,  who  writeJ  with 
the  most  amiable  spirit  of  benevolence,  with  the  most 
unaffected  air  of  humility,  and,  like  the  sacred  ori- 
ginals, from  which  he  copies,  with  a  majestic  simpli- 
city of  style;  whose  select  works  I  may  venture  to 
recommend,  not  only  as  a  treasure,  but  as  a  mine  of 
genuine,  sterling,  evangelical  piety.  See  page  520 
of  Archbishop  Leighton's  select  wrjks,  the  Edin- 
burgh edition,  8vo  :  which  it  is  necessary  to  specify, 
because  the  London  edition  does  not  contain  that 
part  of  his  writings  which  has  supplied  me  with  the 
preceding  quotation. 

t  He  casteth  forth  his  ice  like  morsels.  Psalm 
cxlvii.  17.  Which  in  modem  language,  might  be 
thus  expressed :  "  He  poureth  his  hail  like  a  volley 
of  shot."  The  word  inadequately  translated  morsels, 
alludes,  I  think,  to  those  fragments  of  the  rock,  or 
those  smooth  stones  from  the  brook,  which,  in  the 
battle,  the  warriois  hurled  from  theit  slings. 


A  WINTER-PIECE. 


1:J 


of  Tiis  glasses  into  shivers.  It  darts  into  the 
traveller's  face  :  he  tiu'ns  with  haste  from 
the  stroke,  or  feels  on  his  cheek  for  the 
gushing  blood.  If  he  would  retreat  into 
the  house,  it  follows  him  even  thither,  and, 
like  a  determined  enemy,  that  pushes  the 
pursuit,  dashes  through  the  crackling  panes. 
But  the  fierce  attack  is  quickly  over.  The 
clouds  have  soon  spent  theu-  shafts  ;  soon 
imstiimg  their  bow.  Happy  for  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  earth,  that  a  sally  so  dieadfully 
furious  should  be  so  remarkably  short  ! 
What  else  could  endui'e  the  shock,  or  es- 
cape destruction? 

But,  behold  a  bow,  of  no  hostile  inten- 
tion !  a  bow  paisted  in  variegated  colours, 
on  the  disburdened  cloud.  How  vast 
the  extent,  how  delicate  the  texture  of  that 
showery  arch !  It  compasseth  the  heavens 
%vith  a  glorious   circle,  and  teaches  us  to 


forget  the  horrors  of  the  storm.  Elegant 
its  form,  and  rich  its  tincture,  but  more  de- 
lightful its  sacred  significancy.  WTiile  the 
violet  and  the  rose  blush  in  its  beautiful 
aspect,  the  olive  branch  smiles  in  its  gra- 
cious import.  It  writes  in  radiant  dyes, 
what  the  angels  sung  in  harmonious  strains, 
"  Peace  on  earth,  and  good-N\ill  towards 
men."  It  is  the  stamp  of  insurance,  for 
the  continuance  of  seed-time,  and  harvest ; 
for  the  preservation  and  security  of  the 
visible  world:  (Gen.  ix.  12,  16.)  It  is 
the  comfortable  token  (Rev.  iv.  3.)  of  a 
better  state,  and  a  happier  kingdom  ;  a 
kingdom  where  sin  shall  cease,  and  misery 
be  abolished ;  where  storms  shall  beat,  aiul 
winter  pierce  no  more  ;  but  holiness,  hap- 
piness, and  joy,  like  one  unbounded  spring, 
for  ever,  ever  bloom. 


TABLE  OF    THE    TEXTS 


MORE  OR  LESS  ILLUSTRATED  IN  THE  MEDITATIONS. 


N.B. — As  Dr.  Shaw,  in  the  supplement  to  his  excellent  book  of  Travels,  and  several  other  Authors  of  the 
greatest  eminence,  have  given  an  Index  of  Scriptures  occasionally  explained  in  their  writings,  I  doubt 
not  but  I  shall  oblige  many  of  my  readers  by  what  is  here  subjoined ;  those  especially,  whose  taste  is  hap- 
pily formed  to  relish  the  beauties  of  the  Sacred  Records. 


Genesis  xxx.  1. 
Joshua  X.  12,  13. 
Judges  V.  20. 
1  Samuel  xxviii.  19. 
1  Kings  viii.  27. 
XX.  40. 
Nehemiah  ix.  6. 
Job  iv.  12,  &c. 
iv.  19. 
V.  23. 
vii.  20. 
ix.  8. 
ix.  25,  26. 
xxii.  14. 
xxii.  16. 
xxii.  20. 
XXV.  5,  6. 
xxxviii.  30. 
Psalms  viii.  3..  4. 
xxiii.  1. 
xxvii.  1. 
xxxiii.  6,  9. 
xlv.  9. 
li.  7. 
xcvi.  5. 
xcTii.  2. 
civ.  3. 
civ.  24. 
cviii.  4. 
ex.  3. 
cxxxvi.  9. 
cxxxix.  2. 
cxxxix.  7,  8,  9. 
cxxxix.  11. 
Ecclesiastes  xii.  3,  5. 
Canticles  vi.  10. 
Isaiah  ii.  11. 
ix.  3. 
xiv.  23. 
xxix.  8. 
xxxiii.  17. 
xxxv.  1. 
xxxviii.  11. 
xl.  12. 
xl.  15. 
xL29— 31. 
xU.  10. 
xlii.  3. 
xlix.  15. 
li.  16. 


I 

Isaiah  li.  6. 

118 

liii.  3. 

118 

Iviii.  10. 

19 

Ixi.  10. 

2 

Jeremiah  xxxi.  12. 

77 

xlix.  11. 

120 

Ezekiel  xvi.  63. 

S3 

xxxvi.  31. 

5 

Daniel  ix.  24. 

131 

xii.  3. 

101 

Habakkuki.9. 

20 

iii.  4. 

75 

iil.ll. 

20 

Zechariah  ix.  17. 

86 

xiii.  1. 

104 

xiii.  7. 

109 

Matthew  vi.  25. 

132 

Luke  vii.  12. 

100 

xiv.  23. 

117 

John  i.  3. 

117 

iii.  3. 

103 

V.  17. 

35 

xi.  26. 

102 

xii.  32. 

120 

xiv.  6. 

106 

xiv.  9. 

75 

Acts  ix.  1. 

38 

XX.  28. 

26 

Romans  v.  8. 

29 

1  Corinthians  i.  24. 

84 

i.30. 

79 

2  Corinthians  iv.  I7. 

74 

ix.  8. 

79 

Galatiansii.20. 

12 

Ephesians  iii.  10. 

92 

iii.  18,  19. 

129 

iii.  20. 

110 

Philippians  ii.  6.  8. 

90 

Ui.  10. 

82 

Colossians  ii.  3. 

37 

Hebrews  i.  2,  a 

46 

vii.  26. 

77 

viii.  10. 

105 

xii.  2. 

99 

1  Peter  i.  12. 

104 

2  Peter  iii.  10. 

113 

Revelation  x.  1,  &c. 

113 

xii.  1. 

125 

xxi.  1. 

55 

55 
57 
47 
36 
46 
11 
102 
102 
98 
121 
133 
41 
118 

m 

103 
108 
117 
87 
39 
33 
85 
33 
21 
116 
47 
115 
111 
102 
108 

lis 

92 
79 
110 
48 
115 
101 
104 
101 
48 
115 
33 
102 
116 
47 
115 
90 
76 
56 
58 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO  ; 

OR,  A 

SERIES  OF  DIALOGUES  AND  LETTERS 

ON    THE 

MOST  IMPORTANT  SUBJECTS. 


CONTENTS. 


DIALOGUE  I.  ChAracter  of  the  speakers— On  improving  conversation— Elegance,  dignity,  and  singular 
usefulness  of  the  Scriptures. 

DIALOGUE  II.  Walk  through  the  gardens— The  beautiful  frame  and  beneficial  ordination  of  things— 
Preji.iratory  discourse  on  the  imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness — Meaning  of  the  terms  settled. 

DIALOGUE  III.  Walk  through  a  meadow— Doctrine  of  Christ's  satisfaction  stated— Considered  as  a  re- 
demption-price, and  as  a  sacrifice  for  sin — Variously  typified  under  the  Mosaic  dispensation. 

DIALOGUE  IV.  Park  and  romantic  mount— Christ's  death  farther  considered,  as  the  very  punishment 
which  our  sins  deserved — Objections,  ancient  and  modem,  answered — The  whole  summed  up  and  improved. 

DIALOGUE  V.  Elegant  arbour  in  the  flower-garden— Imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness — Objections 
from  reason  canvassed. 

DIALOGUE  VI.  Gallery  of  pictures — Library  and  its  furniture — A  sordid  taste  in  painting  censured :  a 
more  graceful  maimer  displayed — Imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness  resumed — Objections  from  Scripture 
urged  and  refuted. 

DIALOGUE  VII.  Hay-making — Pleasures  of  nature  freely  enjoyed — Blessings  of  grace  bestowed  with 
equal  freeness — Theron's  plan- of  acceptance  v.ith  God;  consists  of  sincerity,  repentance,  and  good  works, 
recommended  by  the  merits  of  Christ— This  shown  to  be  a  false  foundation — No  such  thing  as  a  good  work, 
till  we  are  accepted  through  the  Redeemer. 

DIALOGUE  VIII.  Duelling— Anim.adversions  on  the  practice— Spirituality  and  extent  of  the  divine  law 
— Infinite  purity  of  God. 

DIALOGUE  IX.  Ci .  ious  summer-house— No  relaxation  of  the  divine  law,  as  to  the  precept  or  the  pe- 
nalty— Its  inflexible  strictness,  and  ])rincipal  ends. 

DIALOGUE  X.  Theron's  last  effort  to  demolish  the  evangelical  scheme  of  justification — Among  other 
objections,  more  plausible  and  refined  than  the  preceding,  he  strenuously  insists  that  faith  is  cur  righteous- 
ness—Ileview  of  the  whole. 

DIALOGUE.  XI.  Ruins  of  Babylon — Fine  passage  from  Mr.  Howe — Depravity  and  ruin  of  human  na- 
ture) as  they  are  represented  in  Scripture — <\pplietl,  with  a  view  to  determine  the  yet  dubious  inquiry. 

DIALOGUE  XII.  Extremely  hot  day — A  solemn  shady  bower — True  method  of  deriving  benefit  from 
the  classics — The  wonderful  structure  and  economy  of  the  human  body. 

DIALOGUE  XIII.  Walk  upon  the  terrace — Depravity  of  human  nature  laid  open,  and  proved  from  ex- 
perience— Uses  of  the  doctrine,  and  its  subserviency  to  the  grand  point. 

DIALOGUE  XIV.  Theron  alone  in  the  fields — His  soliloquy  on  the  charms  of  rural  nature — His  reflec- 
tions on  the  past  conferences — Aspasio  reinforces  his  arguments  for  the  imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness 
— Recommends  self-examination,  the  keeping  of  a  diary,  and  prayer  for  the  enlightening  Spirit — Departs, 
under  an  engagement  to  correspond  by  letter. 

LETTER  1.  Aspasio  opens  the  correspondence  with  some  important  articles  of  duty,  designed  to  facili- 
tate self-examination,  and  promote  conviction  of  sin. 

LETTER  II.  Theron,  convinced  of  the  iniquity  of  his  life,  and  the  eiil  of  his  heart,  sees  the  necessity 
of  a  better  righteousness  than  his  own — 'Desires  a  farther  explanation,  and  a  fuller  proof,  of  the  doctrine's 
under  debate. 

LETTER  III.  Aspasio  proves  the  point,  from  the  Liturgy,  the  Articles,  the  Homilies  of  the  church  of 
En?lind,  and  the  writings  of  the  fathers. 

LETTER  IV.    Aspasio  re-establishes  the  tenet,  from  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament. 

LETTER  V.  Aspasio  relates  a  remarkable  panic — Terrors  of  the  day  of  judgment — Christ's  righteous- 
ness, and  its  imputation,  largely  demonstrated  from  the  Nev.f  Testament. 

LETTER  VI.  Theron  takes  a  cursory  view  of  the  habitable  creation — Traces  the  perfections  of  nature 
through  the  earth,  air,  and  fire — Admirable  construction,  and  advantageous  effects,  of  these  elements. 

LETTER  VII.  Aspasio  takes  occasion  to  display  the  no  less  admirable  perfection  of  Christ's  righteous- 
ness— Its  principle,  extent,  perseverance. 

LETTER  VIII.  Aspasio  describes  a  drought — Majesty  and  beauty  of  the  sun,  after  a  night  of  rain — 
The  meritorious  excellency  of  Christ's  righteousness  illustrated,  from  the  magnificence  of  his  works,  and 
the  divinity  of  his  person. 

LETTER  IX.  Theron's  account  of  the  western  clififs,  the  wonders  of  the  ocean,  and  the  benefits  of  na- 
vi'.'ation. 

LETTER  X.  Aspasio  enumerates  the  much  richer  benefits  resulting  from  ihe  imputation  of  Christ's 
righteousness — Shows  their  hapjjy  influence  on  holiness  of  heart,  and  obedience  of  life. 

LETTER  XI.  Aspasio  exemplifies  the  last  particular  in  two  very  memorable  instances — Especially  in 
the  conduct  of  Abraham  offering  up  his  son  Isaac. 

LETTER  XII.  Aspasio  touches  upon  union  with  Christ— How  described  in  Scripture— Its  blessed  and 
glorious  effects. 

DIALOGUE  XV.  Aspasio  revisits  Theron — Theron  under  anxiety  of  spirit — Aspasio,  partly  to  enter- 
tain, partly  to  comfort  his  friend,  enlarges  upon  the  bounty  of  the  Creator,  visible  both  in  the  animal  and 
vegetable  world — The  new  convert  is  slow  of  heart  to  believe — Evangelical  motives  to  faith. 

DIALOGUE  XVI.  Harvest  scene — Phi lenor's  gardens — Statues — Grove  of  Evergreens— Nature  of  true 
faith — Its  sure  foundation,  and  firm  supports. 

DIALOGUE  XVII.  A  river-voyage — The  diversified  prospect — Comparative  happiness — Advantagcsof 
peace — A  celebration  of  the  Gospel,  and  its  blessings,  in  a  kind  of  rhapsody — Christ's  righteousness  applied 
10  every  case  of  distress,  and  every  time  of  need. 


TO 


THE  RIGiiT  HONOURABLE 


LADY  FRANCES  SHIRLEY. 


Madam, 
If  Christianity  was  inconsistent  with 
true  politeness,  or  prejudicial  to  real 
happiness,  I  should  be  extremely  in- 
judicious, and  inexcusably  ungrate- 
ful, in  presenting  these  Essays  to 
your  Ladyship.  But  as  tlie  religion 
of"  Jesus  is  the  grand  ornament  of  our 
nature,  and  a  source  of  the  sublira- 
est  joy,  the  purport  of  the  following 
pages  cannot  be  unworthy  the  coun- 
tenance and  protection  of  the  most 
accomplished  person.  Neither  can 
there  be  a  wish  more  suitable  to  the 
obligations  or  the  dictates  of  a  grate- 
ful heart,  than  that  you  may  expe- 
rience what  you  read,  and  be  what 
you  patronize. 

Did  religion  consist  in  a  formal 
round  of  external  observances,  or  a 
forced  submission  to  some  rigorous 
austerities,  I  would  not  scruple  to 
join  with  the  infidel  and  the  sensua- 
list to  dread  it  in  one  view,  and  to 
despise  it  in  another.  You  need  not 
be  informed.  Madam,  that  it  is  as 
much  superior  to  all  such  low  and 
forbidding  singularities,  as  the  hea- 
vens are  higher  than  the  earth.  It 
is  described  by  an  author,  who  learn- 
ed its  theory  in  the  regions  of  Para- 
dise, and  who  displayed  its  eflScacy 


in  his  own  most  exemplary  conver- 
sation ; — it  is  thus  described  by  that, 
incomparable  author : — The  kingdom 
of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink,  but 
righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  ia 
the  Holy  Ghost. 

To  be  reconciled  to  the  omnipo- 
tent God  ;  to  be  interested  in  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  Christ ;  to  be 
renevred  in  our  liearts,  and  influenc- 
ed in  our  lives,  by  the  sanctifying 
operations  of  the  divine  Spirit — this 
is  evangelical  righteousness  ;  this  is 
genuine  religion  ;  this,  Madam,  is  the 
kingdom  of  God  established  in  the 
soul.  How  benign  and  inviting  is 
such  an  institution  !  How  honoura- 
ble and  advantageous  such  a  state  ! 
And  from  such  privileges,  what 
other  effects  can  flow,  but  that 
"  peace,  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing;"  that  "joy,  which  is  un- 
speakable and  glorious  1" 

Is  there  any  thing  in  the  amuse- 
ments of  the  gay,  and  pursuits  of  the 
ambitious,  of  greater,  of  equal,  of 
com|)arable  value?  Is  not  all  that 
wealth  ran  purchase,  all  that  gran 
deur  can  bestow,  someuhat  like 
those  glittering  bubbles,  which,  when 


140 


DEDKjATION. 


viewed,  are  emptiness,  Avlien  grasp- 
ed, are  nothing?  Wiiereas  the  com- 
forts, tlie  benefits,  the  hopes  of 
Christianity,  are  at  once  supremely 
excellent,  and  infinitely  durable  ;  a 
portion  suited  to  the  dignity  of  a 
rational  soul ;  large  as  its  faculties, 
and  immortal  as  its  being. 

All  these  blessings  are  centered 
in  Christ ;  were  purchased  by  Christ ; 
are  communicated  from  Christ.  It 
is  for  want  of  knowing  those  bound- 
less and  evei'lasting  treasures  of  par- 
doning, justifying,  saving  merit, 
■which  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  posses- 
ses, and  which  he  freely  dispenses 
even  to  sinners,  that  so  many  un- 
thinking persons  are  attached  to  ig- 
noble objects,  and  beguiled  by  delu- 
sory pleasures.  Unhappy  creatures  ! 
what  can  they  do  but  catch  at  sha- 
dows, and  stoop  to  trifles,  while  they 
are  ignorant  of  the  grand,  the  sub- 
stantial, the  exalted  good  ?  It  is  for 
want  of  duly  attending  to  that  ful- 
ness of  grace,  and  that  plenteousness 
of  redemption,  which  dwell  in  our 
most  adorable  Saviour,  that  so  many 
serious  persons  are  strangers  to  the 


tranquillity  and  sweetness  of  religion, 
ai-e  subject  to  all  its  restraints,  but 
enjoy  few,  if  any,  of  its  delights. 
Mistaken  zealots  !  How  can  they 
avoid  the  gloomy  situation,  and  the 
uncomfortable  circumstance,  so  long 
as  they  withdraw  themselves  from 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  and  his 
all  cheering  beams  ? 

May  your  Ladyship  live  contin- 
ually under  his  heavenly  light  and 
healing  wings  ;  be  more  fully  assur- 
ed of  his  dying  love,  and  have  bright- 
er, still  brighter  manifestations  of 
his  immense  perfections  !  By  these 
delightful  views,  and  by  that  pre- 
cious faith,  may  yoiu-  heart  be  trans- 
formed into  his  holy,  his  amiable, 
his  divine  image  !  Your  happiness 
will  then  be  just  such  as  is  wished, 
but  far  greater  than  can  be  express- 
ed, by. 

Madam, 

Your  most  obliged,  and 

Most  obedient  humble  servant, 

JAMES  HERVEY. 


Weston  Favel, 
.Tan.  G,  1755. 


PREFACE. 


The  Reader  will  probably  expect 
some  account  of  the  ensuing  Work ; 
and  to  gratify  bini  in  this  particular 
will  be  a  real  pleasure  to  the  Au- 
thor. 

The  beauty  and  excellency  of  the 
Scriptures  ; — the  ruin  and  depravity 
of  human  nature, — its  happy  recov- 
ery, founded  on  the  atonement,  and 
effected  by  the  Spirit  of  Christ; — 
these  are  some  of  the  chief  points 
vindicated,  illustrated,  and  applied 
in  the  following  sheets.  But  the 
grand  article,  that  which  makes  the 
j)rincipal  figure,  is  the  imputed  right- 
eousness of  our  Divine  Lord  ;  from 
whence  arises  our  justification  be- 
fore God,  and  our  title  to  every  hea- 
venly blessing  ;  an  article  which, 
though  eminent  for  its  importance, 
seems  to  be  little  understood,  and 
less  regarded  ;  if  not  much  mistaken 
and  almost  forgotten. 

The  importance  of  this  great  evan- 
gelical doctrine, — how  worthy  it  is 
of  the  most  attentive  consideration, 
and  of  universal  acceptance, — is 
hinted  in  the  second  dialogue  ;  so 
that  I  need,  in  this  place,  do  nothing 
more  than  give  the  sense  of  a  pas- 
sage from  Witsius,  which  is  there  in- 
troduced in  a  note.  "  The  doctrine 
of  justification,"  says  that  excellent 
author,  "spreads  itself  through  the 
wlu>le  system  of  divinity.  As  this 
is  eitlier  solidly  established  or  super- 
ficially touched,  fully  stated  or  slight- 
ly dismissed  ;  accordingly,  the  whole 
structure  of  religion  either  nses 
graceful  and  magnificent,  superior 
to  assault  and  beyond  the  power  of 
decay,  or  else  it  appears  dispropor- 
ti«»nate  and  defective,  totters  on  its 
foiindation,  and  threatens  an  oppro- 
brious fall." 


The  design  is  executed  in  the  form 
of  dialogue  ;  those  parts  only  except- 
ed in  which  it  was  not  easy  to  carry 
on  a  conversation,  and  assign  to  each 
person  a  proper  degree  of  significan- 
cy.  Here,  to  avoid  the  common  im- 
putation of  bringing  upon  the  stage 
a  mute  or  a  shadow, — one  who  fights 
without  weapons,  and  submits  with- 
out a  contest, — the  scene  shifts. 
Om*  gentlemen  separate,  and,  instead 
of  conversing,  enter  upon  an  episto- 
lary correspondence. 

The  dialogue  form  seems,  on  many 
considerations,  a  very  eligible  way 
of  writing.  Hereby  the  author  gives 
an  air  both  of  dignity  and  of  modes- 
ty to  his  sentiments.  Of  dignity  ; 
by  delivering  them  from  the  mouths 
of  persons  in  every  respect  superior 
to  himself.  Of  modesty  ;  because 
we  no  longer  consider  him  in  the 
raised,  but  invidious  capacity  of  a 
teacher.  Instead  of  calling  us  to  his 
feet,  and  dictating  his  precepts,  he 
gratifies  our  curiosity.  He  turns 
back  a  curtain,  and  admits  us  to 
some  remarkable  interviews,  or  in- 
teresting conferences.  We  over- 
hear, by  a  kind  of  innocent  or  ima- 
ginary stealth,  tl'.e  debates  which 
pass  in  the  recesses  of  privacy,  which 
are  carried  on  with  the  most  unre- 
served freedom  of  speech,  and  open- 
ness of  heart ;  a  circumstance  which 
will  ai)ologize  for  some  peculiarities- 
that  might  otherwise  be  inconsistent 
with  humility,  or  offensive  to  delica- 
cy. Particularly  it  may  obviate  the 
disgust  which  generally,  and  indeed 
deservedly,  attends  the  frequent  in- 
trusitui  of  that  and)itious  and  usurp- 
ing little  nidnosyllable,  /. 

The  nanu's  of  the  persons  are  pre- 
fixed, each  to  his  respective  share  of 


142 


PREFACE. 


the  discourse,  in  imitation  of  Cicero, 
and  for  the  reasons  which  he  assigns  ; 
"  Quasi  enim  ipsos  induxi  loqiientes  : 
neingimmet  inquit  sie^'ius  interjione- 
rentur.  Atque  id  eo  feci,  ut  tan- 
quam  preesentibus  coram  haberi  ser- 
mo  videretur."*  This  method,  he 
very  justly  intimates,  is  removed 
farthest  from  the  narrative,  and 
makes  the  nearest  approaches  to  life 
and  reality.  It  quite  secretes  the 
author,  and,  by  introducing  the  per- 
sons themselves,  renders  all  that 
passes  entirely  their  own.  It  pre- 
vents likewise  the  repetition  of  those 
interlocutory  words — he  said,  he  re- 
plied ;  which,  unless  the  speeches 
are  very  long,  must  frequently  re- 
cur, and  have  no  pleasing  effect  up- 
on the  ear.  And  if  the  speeches  are 
long,  the  spirit  of  conversation  is 
lost.  The  associates  are  no  longer 
talking  ;  but  one  of  them,  or  the  au- 
thor, is  lecturing. 

Though  I  have  so  much  to  say  in 
behalf  of  the  model,  I  have  very  little 
to  say  with  regard  to  the  execution, 
unless  it  be  to  confess  the  deficiency. 
There  is  not,  I  am  sensible,  that  pe- 
culiar air  and  distinguishing  turn, 
which  should  mark  and  characterise 
each  speaker.  This  is  what  the  na- 
ture of  finished  dialogue  requires, 
and  what  the  author  applauds  in 
some  very  superior  writers.  But 
uot  having  the  ability  to  copy  it,  he 
has  not  the  vanity  to  affect  it. 
Nevertheless,  the  attentive  reader, 
will,  all  along,  perceive  a  difference 
in  the  sentiment,  if  not  in  the  lan- 
guage. The  materials  vary,  even 
when  they  run  into  the  same  mould, 
and  take  the  same  form.  *  In  the 
diction  also  there  must  be  some  di- 
versity ;  because  several  of  the  ob- 
jections are  proposed  in  the  very 
words  of  one  or  two  eminent  writers 
who  have  appeared  on  the  other  side 
of  the  question.  These  are  not  par- 
ticularized by  the  mark  of  quotation  ; 
because  the  man  of  reading  will  have 
no  occasion  for  the  assistance  of  such 
an  index,  and  the  man  of  taste  will 


•   De  Amicitia. 


probably  discern  them  by  the  singu- 
larity of  the  style. 

Some  of  the  following  pieces,  it 
must  be  acknowledged,  are  of  the 
controversial  kind  ;  a  species  of  writ- 
ing least  susceptible  of  the  graces 
which  embellish  composition  ;  or  ra- 
ther, most  destitute  of  the  attrac- 
tives  which  engage  attention  and 
create  delight.  Yet  I  have  some- 
times thought,  that  it  is^  not  abso-. 
lutely  impossible  to  make  even  the 
stern  face  of  controversy  wear  ^ 
smile,  and  to  reap  some  valuable 
fruit  from  the  rugged  furrows  of 
disputation.  Wliether  this  is  effect- 
ed in  the  present  work,  the  publie 
must  judge  ;  that  it  has  been  at- 
tempted, the  author  may  be  permit- 
ted to  declare. 

To  soften  the  asperities  of  argu- 
ment, views  of  nature  ai'e  interspers- 
ed ;  that  if  the.  former  should  carry 
the  appearance  of  a  rude  entangled 
forest,  or  of  a  frowning  gloomy  re- 
cess, there  may  be  some  agreeable 
openings,  and  lightsome  avenues,  to 
admit  a  prospect  of  the  country ; 
which  is  always  arrayed  in  charms, 
and  never  fails  to  please. 

The  author  confesses  a  very  pecu- 
liar fondness  for  the  amiable  scenes 
of  creation.  It  is  therefore  not  at 
all  improbable  but  his  excursions  on 
this  topic  may  be  of  the  diffusive 
kind,  and  his  descriptions  somewhat 
luxuriant.  It  is  hoped,  however, 
that  the  benevolent  reader  will  in- 
dulge him  in  this  favourite  foible. 
If  any  should  feel  the  same  prevail- 
ing passion  for  the  beauties  of  na- 
ture, it  is  possible  these  persons  may 
be  inclined  not  only  to  excuse,  but 
to  approve  the  fault ;  and  may  take 
part  with  the  lover,  even  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  critic. 

Further  to  diversify  the  piece, 
sketches  of  philosophy  are  introduc- 
ed ;  easy  to  be  understood,  and  cal- 
culated to  entertain  the  imagination, 
as  well  as  to  improve  the  heart ; 
more  particularly,  to  display  the 
wise  and  beneficent  design  of  Provi- 
dence, in  the  various  appearances 
and  numberless  productions  of  the 
material  world.     Neither  are  these 


PREFACE. 


143 


.remarks  altogether  foreign  to  tlie 
main  point ;  but,  as  far  as  the  won- 
ders of  creation  may  comport  with 
the  riches  of  free  grace,  subserve 
the  general  end. 

As  to  the  choice  of  my  subjects, 
some  people  have  desired  to  see  an 
invective  against  the  fashionable  and 
predominant  vices  of  the  age.  This, 
1  apprehend,  would  be  like  picking 
off  tiie  leaves,  or  clipping  away  the 
.twigs,  from  some  overgrown  and  nox- 
ious tree.  Waving  this  tedious  and 
ineffectual  toil,  I  would  rather  lay 
the  axe  to  the  root.  Let  the  know- 
ledge and  love  of  Christ  take  place 
in  the  heart,  and  not  only  a  few  of 
the  branches,  but  the  whole  body  of 
«in  will  fall  at  once. 

Some  would  have  the  author  in- 
sist upon  the  conscientious  observ- 
ance of  tJie  Sabbath,  incidcate  the 
daily  worship  of  God  in  the  family, 
and  urge  a  devout  attendance  on  the 
public  or<linances  of  religion.  But 
.when  a  person  is  convinced  of  sin, 
and  made  sensible  of  misery  :  when 
)ie  has  "  tasted  the  good  word  of 
God,"  Heb.  vi.  5,  "  and  seen  by 
faith  the  Lord's  Christ,"  Luke  ii. 
26,  he  will  want  no  solicitation  or 
incitement  to  these  means  of  grace 
iuid  exercises  of  godliness.  He  will 
have  just  the  same  disposition  to 
.them  all,  as  the  hungry  appetite  has 
to  wholesome  food,  or  the  new-born 
babe*  to  the  milk  of  the  breast. 

Othei's  may  imagine,  that  I  have 
jneglected  the  interests  of  morality  ; 
because  here  is  no  professed  attempt 
to  delineate  its  duties,    or    enforce 

*  1  Pet.  ii.  2.  This  comparison  is,  per- 
'haps,  the  most  e.xact  ar.d  exjoressive  that 
words  can  form,  or  fancy  conceive.  Bal)es 
.covet  nothing  but  the  mOk  of  the  breast. 
They  are  indifferent  about  all  other  things. 
Give  them  riches,  give  them  honours,  give 
them  whatever  you  please,  without  this 
rich,  delicious,  balmy  nutriment,  they  \\all 
not,  they  cannot  be  satisfied.  How  finely 
does  this  illustrate,  and  how  forcibly  incul- 
4;ate,  what  our  Lord  styles,  "  the  single 
.eye,"  and  "  the  one  thing  needful !"  or  the 
,salutai-y  doctrines  and  delightful  privileges 
of  the  gosjjcl  ;  together  with  that  supreme 
value  for  them,  and  inidividcd  complacency 
"Ml  them,  which  are  the  distingui-sbing  cha- 
racter of  the  Christian  ? 


its  practi<'e.  Let  these  persons  re- 
member, that  morality  never  makes 
such  vigorous  shoots,  never  produces 
such  generous  fruit,  as  wlien  ingraft- 
ed on  evangelical  principles.  And  if  I 
do  not  crop  the  pink,  the  rose,  and 
the  carnation — if  I  do  not  gather  the 
peach,  tlie  nectarine,  and  the  pine- 
apple— and  put  them  into  my  read- 
er's hand,  for  his  [immediate  enjoy- 
ment ;  I  am  endeavouring  to  sow 
the  seeds  and  plant  the  roots  in  his 
garden,  which,  if  cherished  by  the 
favourable  influence  of  heaven,  will 
yield  him,  not  an  occasional,  but  a 
constant  supply  of  all. 

As  several  texts  of  Scripture  come 
under  consideration,  criticisms  upon 
the  original  are  frequently  subjoin- 
ed, in  order  to  clear  up  some  dif- 
ficulties, to  rectify  some  mistransla- 
tions, or  point  out  the  many  delicate 
and  masterly  strokes  which  occur  in 
the  Bible.  And  glad  should  I  be, 
extremely  glad,  if  I  might  recom- 
mend and  endear  that  invaluable 
book ;  if,  as  the  divine  Redeemer 
"  rideth  on  in  the  word  of  truth,  of 
meekness,  and  righteousness,"  Psalm 
xlv.  4,  this  hand  might  scatter  a 
palm-branch,  or  this  performance 
might  lie  as  a  llowret,  to  strew  his 
way,*  and  solemnize  his  triumph. 

In  the  course  of  disputation,  I 
dare  not  suppose  that  1  have  dis- 
cussed all  the  arguments  which  sa- 
gacity may  devise,  or  sophistry  urge. 
Perliaps,  I  have  not  removed  all  the 
scruples,  which  may  awaken  preju- 
dice or  embarrass  integrity.  This, 
however,  I  may  venture  to  atBrm, 
that  I  myself  have  met  with  no  con- 
siderable objection,  M-hich  is  not 
either  expressly  answered,  or  vir- 
tually refuted,  in  these  conferences. 
And,  though  I  sliould  neither  satisfy 
nor  silence  the  gainsayer,  I  shall 
think  my  endeavours  happily  em- 
ployed, if  they  may  throw  light  up- 
on the  dim  aj)preliciision,  establish 
the  wavering  faith,  or  comfort  the 
afflicted  conscience. 

If  any  should  burlesque  or  ridi- 
cule these  venerable  trutiis,  and  ex- 


AUudinc  to  Matt.  xxi.  8. 


144 


PREFACE. 


alted  privileges,  I  shall  only  say  with 
my  divine  Master,  <'  O  !  that  thou 
hadst  known,  in  this  thy  day,  the 
thing's  that  belong  to  thy  peace  !  but 
now  they  are  hid,"  it  is  evident  from 
such  a  procedure,  "  they  are  hid 
from  thine  eyes,"  Luke  xix.  42. 
Should  any,  in  the  spirit  of  decency 
and  candour,  either  start  new,  or 
revive  old  objections,  I  doubt  not 
but  they  will  receive  both  a  due  ex- 
amination and  a  proper  reply.  As 
these  doctrines  enter  into  the  very 
essence  of  the  gospel,  and  constitute 
the  glory  of  our  religion,  they  can 
never  want  a  succession  of  advo- 
cates, so  long  as  the  sun  and  moon 
endure.  For  my  own  part,  I  must 
beg  leave  to  retire  from  the  lists,  and 
lay  down  the  weapons  of  contro- 
versy. Vii'gil's  language  is  my  re- 
solution ; 

"  Discedam,  explebo  numerum,  reddarque  tenebris." 

This  declaration  is  made,  not  from 
any  the  least  suspicion  that  my 
tenets  are  indefensible,  but  because  I 
would  apprise  my  friends,  and  the 
friends  of  our  common  Christianity, 
that  the  field  is  clear  and  open  for 
them  to  advance ;  that  I  resign  to 
othei's  the  glorious  combat,  and  shall 
content  myself  with  wishing  them 
success  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  : 
Because  it  becomes  a  person  in  my 
declining  state  to  be  more  peculiarly 
intent  upon  encountering  a  different 
adversaiy,  who  is  sure  to  overcome, 
and  never  allows  quarter.  Yet  by 
this  "  word  of  my  testimony,  and  by 
tlie  blood  of  the  Lamb,"  Rev.  xii. 
11,  I  hope  to  triumph  even  when  I 
fall ;  and  to  be  more  than  conqueror, 
through  Jehovah  my  righteousness. 

Should  any  thing  be  urged  forci- 
ble enough  to  overthrow  my  argu- 
ments, or  detect  a  mistake  in  my 
sentiments,  the  world  may  depend 
upon  seeing  a  free  and  undissembled 
retraction.  I  shall  look  upon  it  as 
a  duty  which  I  owe  to  my  consci- 
ence, to  my  readers,  and  to  my  God, 
publicly  to  acknowledge  the  error. — 
It  is  one  thing  to  be  silent,  another 
to  be  obstinate.  As  I  shall  inflexi- 
bly adhere  to  the  first,  I  would  with 
equal  steadiness  renounce   the  last. 


Though  I  withdraw  from  the  strife 
of  pens  and  of  tongues,  I  shall  take 
care  to  preserve  a  mind  ever  accessi- 
ble to  truth,  ever  open  to  conviction  ; 
a  mind  infinitely  more  concerned  for 
the  purity  and  prosperity  of  the 
everlasting  gospel,  than  for  the  pre- 
valence of  my  own  opinion,  or  the 
credit  of  my  own  performance. 

As  I  have  the  happiness  of  being 
a  member,  and  the  honour  of  being 
a  minister  of  the  reformed  establish- 
ed church,  I  cannot  but  reflect,  with 
a  peculiar  pleasure,  that  every  doc- 
trine of  note  maintained  in  these 
Dialogues  and  Letters,  is  either  im- 
plied in  our  Liturgy,  asserted  in  our 
Articles,  or  taught  in  our  Homilies. 
It  aff^ords  me  likewise  some  degree 
of  satisfaction  to  observe,  that  the 
most  material  of  the  sentiments  have 
been  adopted  by  Milton,  are  incor^ 
porated  into  his  Paradise  Lost,  and 
add  dignity  to  the  sublimest  poem  in 
the  world.  To  have  the  highest 
human  authority,  and  the  first  ge- 
nius of  the  nation,  on  a  writer's  side, 
is  no  contemptible  support.  This 
must  surely  give  a  sanction,  wher- 
ever our  religious  establishment  is 
reverenced,  or  polite  literature  is 
held  in  repute.  Yet  even  this  sanc- 
tion, compared  with  the  oracle  of  re- 
velation, is  only  like  a  range  of  ci- 
phers connected  with  the  initial  fi- 
gure— which,  were  they  detached, 
would  be  insignificant,  but,  in  such  a 
subordination,  are  considerable. 

Perhaps  it  should  be  farther  ac- 
knowledged, that  I  have  not  always 
confined  myself  to  the  method  of  our 
systematic  writers,  nor  followed  their 
train  of  thoughts  witli  a  scrupulous 
regularity.  I  would  conduct  my 
fellow-creature  to  the  supreme  and 
eternal  good,  Christ  Jesus.  T  have 
chosen  the  path  which  seemed  most 
agreeable  and  inviting,  rather  than 
most  beaten  and  frequented.  If  this 
leads,  with  equal  certainty,  to  the 
great  and  desirable  end,  I  dare  pro- 
mise myself  an  easy  excuse.  How- 
ever, that  method  and  order,  in  the 
doctrinal  parts  of  the  plan,  are  not 
wholly  neglected,  the  preceding  sum- 
mary of  contents  may  show. 


THEIiON  AND  ASPASIO; 


SERIES  OF  DIALOGUES  AND  LETTERS 


ON  THE 


MOST  IMPORTANT  SUBJECTS. 


DIALOGUE  I. 


Theron  was  a  gentleman  of  fine  taste,  of 
accurate  rather  than  extensive  reading,  and 
particularly  charmed  uith  the  study  of  na- 
ture. He  traced  the  planets  in  their  courses, 
and  examined  the  formation  of  the  meanest 
vegetable,  not  merely  to  gratify  a  refined 
curiosity,  but  chiefly  to  cultivate  the  nobler 
principles  of  religion  and  morality.  Seve- 
ral discoveries  he  made,  and  every  discovery 
he  improved  to  this  important  end — to  raise 
in  his  mind  more  exalted  apprehensions  of 
the  Supreme  Being,  and  to  enlarge  his  af- 
fections with  a  disinterested  benevolence, 
conformable,  in  some  degree,  to  that  bound- 
less liberality  which  pervades  and  animates 
the  whole  creation. 

Aspasio  was  not  without  his  share  of 
polite  literature,  and  philosophical  know- 
ledge. He  had  taken  a  tour  through  the 
circle  of  the  sciences  ;  and,  having  transi- 
ently surveyed  the  productions  of  human 
learning,  devoted  his  final  attention  to  the 
insjiired  writings.  These  he  studied  with 
the  unbiassed  impartiality  of  a  critic,  yet 
with  the  reverential  simplicity  of  a  Chris- 
tian. These  he  regarded  as  the  unerring 
standard  of  duty — the  authentic  charter  of 
salvation — and  the  brightest  mirror  of  the 
Deity,  affording  the  most  satisfactory  and 
sublime  display  of  all  the  divine  attributes. 

Theron  was  somewhat  warm  in  his  tem- 
per ;  and  would,  upoir  occasion,  make  use 
of  a  little  imiocent  raillery,  not  to  ex])ose 
his  friend,  but  to  enliven  the  conversation  ; 
sometimes  disguising  his  reid  sentiments,  in 
order  to  sift  the  subject,  or  discover  the 
opiniorr  of  others.  Aspasio  seldom  indulges 
the  humorous    or    satirical    vein,  but    ar- 


gires  with  "  meekness  of  wisdom  ;"'  never 
puts  on  the  appearance  of  guile,  but  always 
speaks  the  dictates  of  his  heart. 

Aspasio  was  on  a  visit  at  Theron's  seat. 
One  evening,  when  some  neighbouring 
gentlemen  were  just  gone,  and  had  left  them 
alone,  the  conversatiorr  took  the  following 
turn. 

Asp.  I  would  always  be  ready,  both  to 
acknowledge  and  applaud  whatever  is  amia- 
ble in  the  conduct  of  others.  The  gentle- 
men who  gave  us  their  company  at  dinner, 
seem  to  be  all  of  a  different  character ;  yet 
each,  in  his  owir  way,  is  extremely  agreea- 
ble. 

Lysander  has  lively  parts,  and  is  quick 
at  repartee  ;  but  he  never  abuses  his  wit  to 
create  uneasiness  in  the  honest  heart,  and 
Hush  the  modest  cheek  with  corrfiision. 
What  solidity  of  judgment,  and  dej)th  of 
penetration,  appear  in  Crito !  yet  how  free 
are  his  discourses  from  the  magisterial  tone 
or  the  dictatorial  solemnity.  Philenor's 
taste  in  the  polite  arts  is  remarkably  cor- 
rect ;  yet  without  the  least  tincture  of  varri- 
ty,  or  any  weak  fondness  for  applause.  He 
never  interrupts  the  progress,  or  wrests  the 
topic  of  conversatiorr,  in  order  to  shine  in 
his  particular  province.  Treboniiis,  I  firrd, 
has  sigiralized  his  valorrr  in  several  cam- 
paigns. Tliough  a  warrior  and  a  tr'aveller, 
he  gives  himself  no  overbearing  or  osterrta- 


•  Mitis  sapientia  La^li. — Kor. 

rS  a  most  amiable  character,  and  delicately  drawn,  but 
is,  I  think  expressed -.villi  Rrcnter  strength  and  supe- 
rior beauty  by  the  sacred  penman;  "  Let  him  show  out 
of  a  good  conversation  his  works,  with  meekners  of 
wisdom,"  Jaui,  iii.  13. 


i4G 


TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


tious  airs.  In  Trebonius  you  see  the  brave 
officer,  regulated  by  all  the  decency  of  the 
academic,  and  sweetened  with  all  the  aifa- 
bility  of  the  courtier. 

No  one  affects  a  morose  silence,  or  as- 
sumes an  immoderate  loquacity.*  To  en- 
gross the  talk  is  tyrannical,  to  seal  up  the 
lips  is  monkish.  Every  one,  therefore,  from 
a  fund  of  good  sense,  contributes  his  quota  ; 
and  each  speaks,  not  with  an  ambition  to 
set  off  himself,  but  from  a  desire  to  please 
the  company. 

Ther.  Indeed,  Aspasio,  I  think  myself 
happy  in  this  accomplished  set  of  acquain- 
tance ;  who  add  all  the  complaisance  and 
politeness  of  the  gentleman,  to  the  benevo- 
lence and  fidelity  of  the  friend. 

Their  conversation  is  as  innocent  as  their 
taste  is  refined.  They  have  a  noble  abhor- 
rence of  slander,  and  detest  the  low,  unge- 
nerous artilices  of  detraction.  No  loose 
jest  has  either  the  service  of  their  tongue, 
or  the  sanction  of  their  smile.  Was  you  to 
be  with  them,  even  in  their  freest  moments, 
you  w^ould  hear  nothing  that  so  much  as 
borders  upon  piofaneness,  or  is  ui  the  least 
injurious  to  purity  of  morals. 

Asp.  There  is  but  one  qualification 
wanting  to  render  your  friends  completely 
valuable,  and  their  social  interviews  a  con- 
tinual blessing. 

Ther.   Pray,  what  is  that  ? 

Asp.  A  turn  for  more  serious  conferences. 
Their  literary  debates  are  beautiful  sketches 
of  whatever  is  most  curious  in  the  sciences, 
or  most  delicate  in  the  arts.  From  their 
remarks  on  our  national  affairs,  and  on  fo- 
reign occurrences,  a  person  may  almost  form 
a  system  of  politics.  But  they  never  touch 
upon  any  topic  of  morality ;  never  celebrate 
the  sublime  perfections  of  the  Deity ;  never 
illustrate  the  beauties,  nor  enforce  the 
truths 

Ther.  Fie  upon  you,  Aspasio,  for  your 
unpolite  hint !  Who  can  forbear  interrupt- 
ing the  harangue,  which  pleads  for  such  an 
outrageous  \dolation  of  the  mode?  would 
introduce  edifying  talk  into  our  fashionable 
assemblies  ?  How  is  it  that  you,  who,  in 
other  instances,  are  a  gentleman  of  refine- 
ment, can  be  so  strangely  inelegant  in  this 
particular  ? 

Asp.  For  such  a  practice,  Theron,  we 
have  no  inconsiderable  precedents.  Thus 
Socrates,t  the  wisest  of  the  Athenian 
sages  ;  thus  Scipio,|  the  most  accomplish- 


*  Zeno  beingprcsent,  where  a  person  of  this  loqua- 
cious disposition  played  himself  off,  said,  with  an  air 
of  concern  in  his  countenance,  "  That  poor  gentle- 
man is  ill,  he  has  a  violent  flux  upon  him. '  The  com- 
pany was  alarmed,  and  the  rhetorician  stopped  in  his 
career.  "  Yes,  (added  the  philosopher,)  the  flux  is 
so  violent  that  it  has  carried  his  ears  into  his  tongue." 
t  Vid.  Socratis  Memorabilia,  per  Xenoph- 
%  See  Cicero's  Dialogue,  de  amicitia;  in  which  we 
are  informed,  that  it  was  a  customary  practice  with 
Scipio,  with  his  polite  friend,  La;lius,  and  some  of  the 


ed  of  the  Roman  genei-als,  conversed.  Thus 
Cicero,*  the  prince  of  orators,  improved  his 
elegant  retirement,  at  the  Tusculan  villa. 
And  Horace,!  the  brightest  genius  in  the 
court  of  Augustus,  formed  the  most  agree- 
able hours  of  his  conversation  upon  this 
very  plan. 

Were  I  to  enumerate  all  the  patrons  of 
this,  forgive  me  if  I  say,  more  honourable 
mode,  the  most  illustrious  names  of  anti- 
quity woidd  appear  on  the  list. 

TJier.  This  practice,  however  extolled 
by  the  philosophic  gentry  of  ancient  times, 
would  make  a  very  singidar  figiu-e  in  the 
present  age. 

Asp.  And  shoidd  not  the  copy,  after 
\Ahich  the  generality  of  mankind  write,  be 
singularly  correct  ?  Persons  of  exalted  for- 
tune are  the  pattern  for  general  imitation  ; 
are  the  copy,  in  conformity  to  which  the 
inferior  world  adjust  their  manners  and  re- 
gidate  their  behavioiu-.  They,  therefore, 
are  under  the  strongest  obligations  not  to 
give  a  contemptible  stamp  to  the  fashion. 
Benevolence  to  their  fellow-creatures  calls 
loudly  upon  them — a  concern  for  the  public 
good  challenges  it  at  their  hands,  that  they 
signalize  themselves  by  a  pre-eminence  in 
all  that  is  excellent. 

Ther.  Away,  away  with  these  austere- 
notions  !  such  a  strain  of  conversation 
would  damp  the  gaiety  of  our  spirits,  and 
flatten  the  relish  of  society.  It  would  turn 
the  assembly  into  a  conventicle,  and  make 
it  Lent  all  the  year  round. 

Asp.  Can  it  then  be  an  austere  practice, 
to  cultivate  the  understanding  and  improve 
the  heart  ?  Can  it  damp  the  gaiety  of  our 
spirits,  to  refine  them  upon  the  plan  of  the 
highest  perfection  ?  or  will  it  flatten  the 
relish  of  society,  to  secure  and  anticipate 
everlasting  delights  ? 

Ther.  Everlasting  delights,  Aspasio  !  to 
talk  of  such  a  subject,  woidd  be  termed,  in 
every  circle  of  wit  and  gallantly,  an  usurp- 
ation of  the  parson's  office  ;  a  low  method, 
of  retailing  by  scraps,  in  the  parlour,  what 
the  man  in  black  vends  by  wholesale  from 
the  pulpit.  It  would  infallibly  mark  us 
out  for  pedants  ;  and,  for  aught  I  know,, 
might  expose  us  to  the  suspicion  of  en- 
thusiasm. 

Asp.  Your  men  of  wit  must  excuse  me, 
if  I  cannot  persuade  myself  to  admire  either 
the  delicacy  of  their  language  or  the  just- 
ness of  their  opinion. 

The  first,  be  it  ever  so  humane  and 
gi'aceful,  I  resign  to  themselves.  As  for 
the  other,  I  would  beg  leave  to  inquire,. 


most  distinguished  nobility  of  Rome,  to  discourse  up- 
on the  interests  of  the  republic,  and  the  immortality 
of  the  soul. 

*  Vid.  Tuscul.  Qua-st. 

t  Such  were  the  interviews  of  which  he  speaks  with; 
a  kind  of  rapture,  "  O  uoctes,  ccenaeque  deum !" 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


147 


*'are  the  clergy,  then,  the  only  persons 
who  should  act  the  becoming  part,  and  con- 
verse like  rational  beings  ?  Is  solid  wisdom 
and  sacred  truth  the  privilege  of  their 
order ;  while  nothing  is  left  for  you  and 
me,  but  the  play  of  fancy,  or  the  luxiuies  of 
sense  ?" 

I  would  next  ask  the  circles  of  gallantry, 
"  where  is  the  impropriety  of  interweaving 
the  noble  doctrines  displayed  by  tlie  preach- 
er with  our  common  discourse  ?  or  what 
the  inconvenience  of  introducing  the  amia- 
ble graces,  recommended  by  his  lectures, 
into  our  ordinaiy  practice  ?"  Will  such  an 
exercise  of  our  speech  rank  us  among  pe- 
dants ?  is  this  the  badge  of  enthusiasm  ? 
A  splendid  and  honourable  badge  truly  ! 
such  as  must  add  weight  to  any  cause,  and 
worth  to  any  character. 

Ther.  This  would  curb  the  sprightly 
sallies  of  wit,  and  extinguish  that  engaging 
glow  of  good  himiour  which  enlivens  our 
genteel  intercourses.  Accordingly  you 
may  observe,  that  if  any  formal  creature 
takes  upon  liim  to  mention,  in  polite  com- 
pany, a  religious  truth  or  a  text  of  Scripture, 
the  pretty  chat,  though  ever  so  profusely 
flo\\-ing,  stagnates  in  an  instant.  Each  vo- 
luble and  facetious  tongue  seems  to  be 
stnick  with  a  sudden  palsy.  Every  one 
wonders  at  the  strange  man's  face ;  and 
they  all  conclude  him  either  mad  or  a  Me- 
thodist. 

Aap.  Agreeable  strokes  of  wit  are  by  no 
means  incompatible  with  useful  conversa- 
tion, unless  we  mistake  an  insipid  vivacity, 
or  fantastic  knity,  for  wit  and  facetious- 
ness.  Neither  have  I  heard,  that  among 
all  our  acts  of  parliament,  any  one  has  pass- 
ed to  divorce  good  sense  and  good  humour. 
Why  may  they  not  both  reside  on  the 
same  lips,  and  both  circulate  through  the 
same  assembly  ?  For  my  own  part,  I  would 
neither  have  our  discourse  soured  with  aus- 
terity, nor  evaporate  into  impertinence  ;  but 
unite  (as  a  judicious  ancient  advises)  the 
benefits  of  improvement,  with  the  blandish- 
ments of  pleasantry.*  And  as  to  your  po- 
lite people,  if  they  can  find  more  music  in 
the  magpie's  voice,  than  in  the  nightingale's 
note,  I  must  own  myself  as  much  surprised 
at  their  ears,  as  they  are  at  the  strange 
man's  face. 

Ther.  With  all  your  grey-headed  authori- 
ties, I  fancy  you  will  find  very  few  j)rose- 
lytes  among  the  professors  of  modern  re- 
finement. Fashion  is,  with  the  world,  the 
standard  of  morals,  as  well  as  (jf  clothes  ; 
and  he  nuist  be  of  a  very  peculiar  turn  in- 
deed, who  would  choose  to  be  ridiculous  in 
either. 


'  Cum  quadam  illccebraac  voluptate  utiles."- 
Aul.  Gel. 


Asp.  Rather,  Theron,  he  must  be  of  a 
very  pliant  turn,  who  tamely  delivers  up  his 
conduct  to  be  moulded  by  a  fashion,  which 
has  neither  true  elegance  to  dignify  it,  nor 
the  least  usefulness  to  recommend  it.  And 
which,  I  beseech  you,  is  most  ridiculous  ? 
He  who  servilely  imitates  every  idle  fa- 
shion, and  is  the  very  ape  of  corrupt  cus- 
tom ?  Or  he  who  asserts  his  native  liberty, 
and  resolutely  follows  where  wisdom  and 
truth  lead  the  way  ? 

T7ier.  Would  you  then  obtrude  religious 
discourse  upon  eveiy  company  ?  Consider, 
Aspasio,  what  a  motley  figure  this  would 
make.  A  wedding,  and  a  sermon  !  qua- 
drille, and  St.  Paul  !  the  last  new  play, 
and  primitive  Christianity  ! 

Asp.  You  know  the  rule,  Theron,  which 
is  given  by  the  great  Master  of  oiu-  Assem- 
blies, "  Cast  not  your  peaj'ls  before  swine." 
(Matt.  vii.  6.)  Some  there  are  so  im- 
mersed in  sensuality,  that  they  can  relish 
nothing  but  the  coarsest  husks  of  conversa- 
tion. To  these,  neither  ofitr  your  pearls, 
nor  prostitute  your  intimacy.  But  when 
persons  of  a  liberal  educarion  and  elevated 
sentiments — when  these  meet  together, 
why  should  not  their  discourse  be  suitable 
to  the  eminence  of  their  rank,  and  the  su- 
periority of  their  genius  ?  raised  far  above 
the  level  of  that  trite  and  effeminate  strain, 
"  Upon  my  honour,  the  actress  topt  her 
part.  Heavens  !  how  charmingly  she  sung . 
hew  gracefully  she  trode  the  stage  !" 

TTier.  Indeed  my  Aspasio,  I  am  entirely 
in  your  way  of  thinking,  however  I  have 
hitherto  put  on  the  mask.  The  gift  of 
speech  is  one  great  prerogative  of  our  ra- 
tional nature.  And  it  is  a  pity  that  such  a 
superior  faculty  should  be  debased  to  the 
meanest  purposes.  Su])pose  all  our  stately 
vessels,  that  pass  and  repass  the  ocean, 
were  to  carry  out  nothing  but  rinsel  and 
theatrical  decorations — were  to  import  no- 
thing but  glittering  baubles,  and  nicely-fan- 
cied toys — would  such  a  method  of  trading 
be  well-judged  in  itself,  or  beneficial  in  its 
consequences?  Articulate  speech  is  the  in- 
strument of  a  much  nobler  commerce,  in- 
tended  to  transmit  and  diffuse  the  treasures 
of  the  mind.  And  will  not  the  practice 
be  altogether  as  injudicious,  must  not  the 
issue  be  infinitely  more  detrimental,  if  this 
vehicle  of  intellectual  wealth  is  freighted 
only  with  pleasing  foj)peries  ? 

Asp.  Such  folly  and  extravagance  \vould 
be  hissed  out  of  the  commercial  world. 
Why  then  are  they  admitted  and  cherished 
in  the  social  ? 

1  T/ier.  Why  indeed  ?  He  must  be  far 
more  acute  than  your  Theron,  who  can  as- 
sign a  single  reason  to  countenance  them. 
To  ex])lode  them,  ten  thousand  arguments 
occur.       A    continual   round    of  gay   and 


143 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


trifling  conversation,*  of  visits  quite  mo- 
dish, and  entertainments  not  moral,  must 
give  a  most  indolent  turn  to  the  mind  ; 
such  as  will  enervate  its  powers,  indispose 
it  for  generous  action,  and  gradually  sap 
the  very  foundation  of  virtue.  Whereas, 
a  frequent  conference  on  the  glories  of  the 
Godhead,  or  the  wonders  of  creation, 
would  invigorate  and  ennoble  the  soul ; 
would  enlarge  her  faculties,  and  elevate  her 
desires. 

Asp.  "  Did  not  our  hearts  burn  -vithin 
us,"  said  the  travellers  at  Enimaus,  --'ule 
lie  talked  with  us  by  the  way?"  <■  t>  Ve 
xxiv.  .32.)  Those  discourses,  it  is  true, 
M'ere  conducted  with  a  spirit,  and  enforced 
with  an  energy,  absolutely  unequalled  ;  yet 
the  same  happy  effects  would  in  some  de- 
gree result  from  our  friendly  conferences, 
if  they  turned  upon  the  same  important 
points.  We  also  should  feel  our  hearts 
warmed  with  holy  zeal,  and  glowing  vrith 
heavenly  love. 

Titer.  Such  conferences  would  not  only 
he  productive  of  present  advantage,  but 
yield  a  renewed  pleasure  in  the  retrospect. 
We  might  reflect,  with  real  complacency, 
©n  hours  spent  in  so  rational  a  manner. 
And  who  would  not  prefer  the  silent  ap- 
plause of  the  heart,  to  all  those  tumultuous 
joys  which  wanton  jests  create,  or  the  cir- 
cling glass  inspires  ? 

Asp.  Onef  who  thoroughly  knew  man- 
kind, and  «ad  tried  the  merits  of  the  jovial 
board,  very  pertinently  compares  such  flash- 
es of  mirth  to  the  "  crackling  of  thorns  un- 
der a  pot."  (Eccl.  vii.  6.)  The  transient 
blaze  of  the  one,  and  the  senseless  noise  of 
the  other,  continue  but  for  a  moment,  and 
then  expire ;  that  in  smoke  and  darkness, 
this  in  spleen  and  melancholy. 

I  said  spleen  and  melancholy.  For  how- 
ever jauntee  and  alert  the  various  methods 
of  modish  trifluig  may  seem,  whatever  ease 
or  grace  they  are  supposed  to  give  the  con- 
versation ;  sure  am  I,  it  will  be  afflictive  to 
look  back  upon  interviews  squandered  away 
ill  very  vanity,  and  shocking  to  look  for- 
ward upon  the  account  which  we  must  all 
shortly  render.  What  figure  will  such  an 
article  make  in  the  final  reckoning,  and  at 
the  decisive  bar !  "  Our  social  hours,  wliich 
might  have  promoted  our  mutual  edification, 
and  been  subsei"vient  to  our  Creator's  glory, 
all  lost  in  merriment  and  whim  ;  or  worse 
than,  lost,  in  flattery  and  detraction :  A 
blank,  or  a  blot." 

Tlicr.  Venus,  we  find,  has  her  zealous 
knight-errants,  and  Bacchus,  his  professed 


*  The  significancy  and  importance  of  such  conversa- 
tion was  smartly  represented  by  the  philosopher;  who 
being  asked.  How  he  left  the  company  employed  ? 
made  answer,  some  in  millung  the  ram,  others  in  hold- 
ing the  pail. 

I  Kiiig  Solomon. 


votaries,  in  almost  every  compn.nj''.  An.l 
is  it  not  truly  deplorable,  that  the  Ood  of 
nature  alone  has  none  to  assert  his  honourj 
none  to  celebrate  his  perfections  ?  though 
he  is  the  original  of  all  beauty,  and  the  pa- 
rent of  all  good. 

When  I  have  taken  my  morning  walk 
amidst  dews  and  flowers,  witli  the  sun 
shedding  lustre  round  him,  and  luiveiling 
the  happy  landscape,  how  has  my  eye  been  . 
charmed  with  the  lovely  prospect !  how  has 
my  ear  been  ravished  with  the  music  of  the 
grove  !  Methought  every  note  was  a  tribute 
of  harmony ;  and  all  nature  seemed  one 
grand  chorus,  swelling  with  the  Creator's 
praise.  But  how  has  the  scene  been  re- 
versed, when  leaving  my  rural  elysium,  I 
entered  the  haunts  of  men  !  where  I  saw 
faculties  divine,  meanly  engaged  in  trifles  ; 
where  I  heard  the  tongue,  prompt  to  utter, 
and  fluent  to  express,  every  thing  but  its 
JMaker's  glory. 

I  assure  you,  I  have  often  been  chagrin- 
ed on  this  occasion ;  and  sometimes  said 
within  myself,  "  What  !  shall  trifles  be  re- 
garded, and  the  majesty  of  heaven  neglect- 
ed ?  Shall  every  friend,  and  every  visitant, 
receive  his  share  of  respect,  and  no  acknow- 
ledgments be  paid  to  that  exalted  Being, 
who  is  worthy,  more  than  worthy,  of  all 
our  veneration  ?" 

Asp.  This  will  be  still  more  afiiictive  to 
an  ingenuous  mind,  if  we  consider  that  the 
infinite  and  glorious  God  is  present  at  all 
our  interviews,  vouchsafes  to  express  his 
satisfaction,  and  acknowledges  himself  mag- 
nified, when,  with  admiration  and  love,  we 
talk  of  his  transcendent  excellencies.  Nay, 
we  are  assured  that  the  Lord  ofall  lords  not 
only  hearkens,  but  keeps  a  book  of  remem- 
brance ;  and  will  distinguish  such  persons 
at  the  day  of  universal  retribution.  When 
the  loose  train  of  licentious  talkers  are  dri- 
ven away  as  the  despicable  chaff,  these  shall 
be  selected  for  his  peculiar  treasiure,  and 
numbered  among  the  jewels  of  Jehovah.* 

Titer.  If  the  gentlemen  who  make  high 
pretensions  to  reason,  think  themselves  dis- 
charged from  these  doctrines  of  revelation, 
they  should  not  forget  their  own  Scriptures. 
A  philosopher  will  tell  them  the  duty  of 
emplojdng  their  time,  as  in  the  awful  j)re- 
sence,  and  under  the  immediate  inspection 
of  the  Supreme  Being. "I"  An  orator  wiU 
show  them   the   egregious  impropriety    of 


*  Mai.  iii.  16,  17.  This  is  a  passage  much  to  be  ob- 
served. A  most  emphatical  recommendation  of  reli- 
gious discourse,  perhaps  the  most  emphatical  that 
ever  was  used,  ana  the  most  endearing  that  can  possi- 
bly be  conceived. 

t  "  Sic  certe  vivendum  est,  tanquam  in  conspectu 
vivamus:  sic  cogitandum,  tanq^uam  ahquis  in  pectus- 
intimum  inspicere  possit :  et  potest.  Quid  enim  pro- 
sit ab  hominealiquid  esse  secretum  ?  Nihil  Deoclau- 
sum  est.  Interest  anirais  nostris,  et  cogitaiionibui 
.nieuiis,  inte.venit."  Senec.  Episi.  113. 


THERON  ANP   ASTASIO. 


1-49 


■wasting  thc'w  friendly  interviews  in  the 
feiineK  of  drollery,  or  the  froth  of  imperti- 
Jieiice.* 

Asp.  Who  then,  that  is  wise,  would  not 
habituate  himself  to  a  practice,  which  comes 
recommended  by  the  voice  of  reason,  and  is 
-enforced  by  the  authority  of  God  ? — a  prac- 
tice, which  will  administer  present  good, 
will  afford  pleasing  reviews,  and  tirminate 
in  everlasting  honour  ? 

Ther.  It  is  strange,  that  subjects  which 
<leserve  to  be  received  as  the  uni\'ersal  to- 
pic, are  almost  universally  banished  from 
our  discourse.  Was  this  cabinet  enriched 
MTth  a  series  of  antique  medals,  or  a  collec- 
tion of  the  finest  gems,  my  friends  would 
naturally  expect  to  be  entertained  with  a 
sight  of  those  rarities,  and  an  explanation 
of  their  meaning.  Why  should  we  not  as  na- 
turally expect,  and  as  constantly  agree,  to 
entertain  each  other  with  remarks  on  those 
admirable  curiosities  which  are  deposited  in 
the  boundless  museumf  of  the  universe  ? 

When  a  general  has  won  some  important 
victory,  or  an  adminJ  has  destroyed  the 
enemy's  fleet,  every  company  resounds  with 
their  achievements,  every  tongue  is  the 
trumpet  of  their  fame.  And  why  should 
ive  not  celebrate,  with  equal  delight  and  ar- 
dour, that  Almighty  hand  whicli  formed  the 
.-tructm'e,  and  furnished  the  regions,  of  this 
stupendous  system  ? 

Asp.  Especially,  if  to  his  immensely 
glorious,  we  add  his  supremely  amiable 
perfections.  When  the  victorious  com- 
mander is  our  most  cordial  friend — when  he 
has  professed  the  tenderest  love,  done  us 
the  most  signal  good,  and  promised  us  a 
perpetual  enjoyment  of  his  favours — it  will 
be  impossible  to  neglect  such  an  illustrious 
and  generous  person.  His  name  must  be 
engraven  upon  our  hearts,  must  slide  insen- 
sibly into  our  tongues,  and  be  as  music  to 
our  ears. 

Is  not  all  this  true,  and  in  the  most  su- 
.per-cminent  degree,  with  regard  to  the  bless- 
ed God?  Can  greater  kindness  be  exer- 
•rised,  or  greater  love  be  conceived,  than  to 
deliver  up  his  own  Son  to  torments  and 
death  for  the  expiation  of  our  sins  ?  Can 
benefits  more  desirable  be  granted,  than  to 
adopt  us  for  his  children,  and  sanctify  us  by 
his  Spirit  ?  Can  promises  more  invaluable 
be  made,  than  those  which  ensure  to  us  the 
preferments  of  heaven,  and  the  riches  of 
eternity? — All  this  is  attested,  concerning 
the  Almighty  Majesty,  in  the  Scriptures  of 


truth.  What  a  fund,  therefore,  for  pleas- 
ing and  delicate  conversation  are  the  Scrip- 
tures ? 

Ther.  Here  also  I  have  the  pleasure  of 
concurring  with  my  Aspasio,  though  I  be- 
lieve he  suspects  me  to  be  somewhat  wa- 
vering or  defective  in  my  veneration  for  the 
Scriptures. 

Asp.  No,  Theron,  I  have  a  better  opin- 
ion of  your  taste  and  discernment  than  to 
harbour  any  such  suspicion. 

Ther.  The  Scriptures  are  certainly  an 
inexhaustible  fund  of  materials  for  the  most 
delightful  and  ennobling  discourse.  When 
we  consider  the  author  of  those  sacred 
books  ;  that  they  came  originally  from  hea- 
ven, were  dictated  by  divine  wisdom,  have 
the  same  consummate  excellence  as  the 
works  of  creation  ;  it  is  really  surprising 
that  we  are  not  always  searching,  by  study, 
by  meditation,  or  converse,  into  one  or 
other  of  these  grand  volumes. 

Asp.  When  Seeker  preaches,  or  Murray 
pleads,  the  church  is  crowded  and  the  bar 
thronged.  When  Spence  produces  the  re- 
finements of  criticism,  or  Young  displays 
the  graces  of  poetry,  the  press  toils,  yet  is 
scarcely  able  to  supply  the  demands  of  the 
public.  Are  we  eager  to  hear,  and  impa- 
tient to  piu-chase,  what  proceeds  from  such 
eloquent  tongues  and  masterly  peris  ?  And 
can  we  be  coldly  indifferent,  when,  not  the 
most  accomplished  of  mankind,  not  the 
most  exalted  of  creatures,  but  the  adorable 
Author  of  all  wisdom,  speaks  in  his  reve;il-- 
edword?  Strange!  that  our  attention  does 
not  hang*  upon  the  venerable  accents,  and 
our  talk  dwell  upon  the  incomparable  truths ! 

TTicr.  I  admire,  I  must  confess,  the  very 
language  of  the  Bible.  In  this,  methinks, 
I  discern  a  conformity  between  the  book 
of  nature  and  the  book  of  Scriptiure. 

In  the  book  of  nature  the  divine  Teacher 
speaks,  not  barely  to  our  ears,  but  to  all 
our  senses.  Aiul  it  is  very  remarkable  how 
he  varies  his  address  !  Observe  his  grand 
and  august  works.  In  these  he  uses  the 
style  of  majesty.  We  m.ay  call  it  the  tme 
sublime.  It  strikes  with  a^^•e,  and  trans, 
sports  the  mind. — View  his  ordinaiy  opera- 
tions. Here  he  descends  to  a  jilainer  dia- 
lect. This  may  be  ternud  the  familiar 
style.  We  compreherid  it  with  ease,  and 
attend  to  it  with  pleasure. — In  the  more 
ornamented  parts  of  the  creation,  he  clothes 
j  ids  meaning  with  elegance.  All  is  rich  and 
brilliant.  We  are  delighted,  we  are  clmrm- 
ed.     And  what  is  this,  but  the  florid  style  ? 


•  Cicero  say?,  with  an  air  of  graceful  indignation, 
^' Quasi  vero  clamorum  virorum  aut  tacitos  congres- 
sus  esse  oportcat,  aut  ludicros  scrmones,  aut  rerum 
colloquia  leviorum." — Avndem.  Quai'it.  lib.  4. 

t  Museum — alluding  to  are'iarkal)le  criifircin  the 
■city  of  ONt'oni,  iti^tingiiisheil  by  this  name,  and  ap- 
propri.iied  to  tlu'  rcieptinn  of  curiosities,  botli  natur- 
al and  aitiiicial,  and  10  tlic  British  Muiuuin  in  Lon- 
don. ..   ^..  . 


*  St.  Luke,  in  his  evangelical  history,  uses  this 
beautiful  image,  "  The  peoi)le  luing  upon  th.e  lips  of 
their  all-wise  Teacher."  I^uke  xix.  •lil.  Mhich  im- 
plies two  very  strong  ideas,  an  attention  that  nothing 
could  interrupt,  and  an  eagerness  sea;  cc  ever  to  be  sa- 
kistied. 

•'  Pcndelque  loqucutet  ab  oie.—  l'irj;. 


150 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


A  variety,  somewhat  similar,  nms  through 
the  Scriptures.  Would  you  see  history  in 
all  her  simplicity,  and  all  her  force,  most 
beautifully  easy,  yet  irresistibly  striking  ? 
See  her,  or  rather  feel  her  energy,  touching 
the  nicest  movements  of  the  soul,  and 
triumphing  over  our  passions,  in  the  inimi- 
table narrative  of  Joseph's  life.  The  re- 
presentation of  Esau's  bitter  distress,  (  Gen. 
xxvii.  30.  &c.)  the  conversation  pieces  of 
Jonathan  and  his  gallant  friend,  (1  Sam. 
xviii.  xix.  xx.  ;)  the  memorable  journal  of 
the  disciples  going  to  Emmaus,  (Lukexxiv. 
13.  &c.  ;)  are  finished  models  of  the  impas- 
sioned and  affecting.  Here  is  nothing  stu- 
died ;  no  flights  of  fancy ;  no  embellish- 
ments of  oratory.  Yet  hov/  inferior  is  the 
episude  of  Nisus  and  Emyalus,  though 
worked  up  by  the  most  masterly  hand  in 
the  world,  to  the  undissembled  artless  fer- 
vency of  these  scriptural  sketches  !  * 

Are  we  pleased  with  the  elevation  and 
dignity  of  an  heroic  poem,  or  the  tenderness 
and  perplexity  of  a  dramatic  performance  ? 
In  the  book  of  Job  they  are  both  united, 
and  both  unequalled.  Conformably  to  the 
exactest  rules  of  art,  as  the  action  advances 
the  incidents  are  more  alarming,  and  the 
images  more  magnificent.  The  language 
glows,  and  the  pathos  awells  ;  till  at  last 
the  Deity  himself  makes  his  entrance.  He 
speaks  from  the  whirlwind,  and  summons  the 
creation — summons  heaven  and  all  its  sliin- 
ing  host,  the  elements  and  their  most  won- 
derful productions — to  vouch  for  the  wis- 
dom of  his  providential  dispensations.  His 
word  strikes  terror,  and  flashes  conviction  ; 
decides  the  momentous  controversy,  and 
closes  the  august  drama,  with  all  possible 
solemnity  and  grandeur. 

If  we  sometimes  choose  a  plaintive  strain, 
such  as  softens  the  mind  and  soothes  an 
agreeable  melancholy  ;  are  any  of  the  an- 
cient tragedies  superior,  in  the  eloquence  of 
mourning,  to  David's  pathetic  elegy  on  his 
beloved  Jonathan,  (2  Sam.  i.  19,  &c. )  to 
his  most  passionate  and  inconsolable  moan 
over  the  lovely  but  unhappy  Absalom  ;f  or 


*  Let  a  person  of  true  taste  peruse,  in  a  critical  view, 
the  two  first  cliapters  of  St.  Luke.  He  will  there  find 
a  series  of  the  most  surprising  incidents  related  with 
the  greatest  simplicity,  yet  with  the  utmost  majesty. 
All  which,  extremely  affecting  in  themselves,  are 
heightened  and  illuminated  by  a  judicious  intermix- 
ture of  the  sublimest  pieces  of  poetry.  For  my  own 
part,  I  know  not  how  to  characterise  them  more  pro- 
perly than  by  Solomon's  elegant  comparison  :  "  They 
are  as  gold  rmgs  set  with  the  beryl,  or  as  bright  ivory 
overlaid  with  sapphires." — Cant.  v.  1.  4. 

t  "  The  king  was  vehemently  affected,  and  went 
up  to  the  chamber  and  wept ;  and  as  he  went  he  said, 
O  my  son  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  Absalom  ! 
would  to  God  I  had  died  for  thee !  O  Absalom,  my 
son,  my  son  !"  2  Sam.  xviii.  33.  Such  a  jiicture,  and 
so  much  pathos ;  so  artless  both,  and  both  so  exqui- 
site, I  must  acknowledge,  I  never  met  with,  amonij 
all  the  representations  of  dignity  in  distress.  The 
king's  troops  had  gained  a  signal  victory.  His  crown 
and  his  life  were  rescued  fror.i  the  most  imminent 
danger.  Yet  all  the  honours  and  all  the  joys  of  this 
successful  day  were  swallowed  up  and  lost  in  Ab- 


to  that  melodious  woe,  which  warbles  and 
bleeds  in  every  line  of  Jeremiah's  Lamen- 
tations. 

Would  we  be  entertained  with  the  daring 
sublimity  of  Homer,  or  the  correct  majesty 
of  Virgil  ?  with  the  expressive  delicacy  of 
Horace,  or  the  rapid  excursions  of  Pindar  ? 
Behold  them  joined,  behold  them  excelled, 
in  the  odes  of  Moses,  and  the  eucharistic 
hymn  of  Deborah  ;  in  the  exalted  devotion 
of  the  Psalms,  and  the  glorious  enthusiasm 
of  the  Prophets. 

Asp.  Only  with  this  difference,  that  the 
former  are  tuneful  triflers,  and  amuse  the 
fancy  with  empty  fiction  ;  the  latter  are 
teachers  sent  from  God,  and  make  the  soul 
wise  unto  salvation.  The  Bible  is  not  on- 
ly the  brightest  ornament,  but  the  most  in- 
valuable deposituni.  On  a  right,  a  practi- 
cal knowledge  of  these  lively  oracles,  de- 
pends the  present  comfort  and  the  endless 
feUcity  of  mankind.  Whatever,  therefore, 
in  study  or  conversation,  has  no  connexion 
\vith  their  divine  contents,  may  be  reckoned 
among  the  toys  of  literature,  or  the  ciphers 
of  discourse- 

Ther.  Here  again  the  book  of  Scripture 
is  somewhat  like  the  magazine  of  nature. 
What  can  we  desire  for  our  accommodation 
and  delight,  which  this  storehouse  of  con- 
veniences does  not  afford  ?  What  can  we 
wish  for  our  edification  and  improvement, 
which  that  fund  of  knowledge  does  not  sup- 
ply? Of  these  we  may  truly  affirm,  each 
in  its  respective  kind  is  "  profitable  unto 
all  things." 

Are  we  admirers  of  antiquity  ? — Here 
we  are  led  back  beyond  the  universal  de- 
luge, and  far  beyond  the  date  of  any  other 
annals.  We  are  introduced  among  the  ear- 
liest inhabitants  of  the  earth.  We  take  a 
view  of  mankind  in  their  undisginsed  primi- 
tive plainness,  when  the  days  of  their  life 
were  but  little  short  of  a  thousand  years. 
We  are  brought  acquainted  with  the  origi- 
nal of  nations  ;  with  the  creation  of  the 
world  ;  and  with  the  birth  of  time  itself. 

Are  we  delighted  with  vast  achievments  ? 
Where  is  any  thing  comparable  to  the  mi- 
racles in  Egypt,  and  the  wonders  in  the 
field  of  Zoan?  to  the  memoirs  of  the  Is- 


salom's  death .  The  news  of  Absalom's  death  struck, 
like  a  dagger,  the  afflicted  father.  He  starts  from 
his  seat.  He  hastens  into  retirement,  thereto  pour 
out  his  soul  in  copious  lamentation.  But  his  an- 
guish is  too  impetuous  to  bear  a  moment's  restraint. 
He  bursts  immediately  into  a  flood  of  tears,  and  cries 
as  he  goes,  "  O  Absalom,"  &:c. 

What  says  Mezentius,  when  his  son  is  slain  ?  when, 
to  sharpen  his  sorrow,  the  pale  corpse,  the  miserable 
spectacle  is  before  his  eyes,  and  within  his  arms  !  The 
most  pathetic  word  he  utters  is, 

' '  Heu  !  nunc  misero  mihi  demum 

Exilium  infelix,  nunc  alte  vuluus  adactum." 
How  languid  is  Virgil,  how  inexpressive  the  prince 
of  Latin  poetry,  compared  with  the  royal  mourner  in 
Israel?  Most  evident  from  this  and  many  other  in- 
stances, is  the  superiority  of.the  Scriptures,  in  copy- 
ing nature,  and  painting  the  passions. 


THE  RON  AND  ASPASIO. 


loi 


Taelites,  passing  through  the  depths  of  the 
sea,  sojourning  amidst  the  hihospitable  de- 
serts, and  conquering  the  kingdoms  of  Ca- 
naan ?  Where  shall  we  meet  with  in- 
stances of  martial  bravery  equal  to  the  pro- 
digious exploits  of  the  Judges  ;  or  the  ad- 
venturous deeds  of  Jesse's  valiant  son,  and 
his  matchless  band  of  worthies?  (2  Sam. 
xxiii.  8,  &c.  1  Chron.  xi.  10,  &c.)  Here 
■we  behold  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  uni- 
verse, sometimes  suspended,  sometimes  re- 
versed ;  and  not  only  the  current  of  Jor- 
■dan,  but  the  course  of  nature  controlled. 
In  short,  when  we  enter  the  field  of  Scrip- 
ture, we  tread — on  enchanted,  shall  I  say  ? 
Tather,  on  consecrated  groiuid  ;  where  as- 
'tonishment  and  awe  are  awakened  at  every 
turn  ;  where  is  all,  more  than  all,  the  mar- 
■vellous  of  romance,  connected  with  all  the 
jirecision  and  sanctity  of  truth. 

If  we  want  maxims  of  wisdom,  or  have 
a  taste  for  the  laconic  style,  how  copiously 
may  our  wants  be  supplied,  and  how  deli- 
cately our  taste  gratified  !  especially  in  the 
book  of  Proverbs,  Ecclesiastes,  and  somt 
of  the  minor  prophets.  Here  are  the  most 
sage  lessons  of  instruction,  adapted  to 
every  circumstance  of  life,  formed  upon 
the  experience  of  all  preceding  ages,  and 
perfected  by  the  unerring  spirit  of  inspira- 
tion. These  delivered  with  such  remark- 
able conciseness,  that  one  might  venture  to 
•say,  every  word  is  a  sentence ;  at  least, 
every  sentence  may  be  called  an  apophthegm, 
sparkling  with  brightness  of  thought,  or 
weighty  with  solidity  of  sense.  The  whole, 
like  a  profusion  of  pearls,  each  containing, 
in  a  very  small  compass,  a  value  almost  im- 
mense, all  heaped  u}i  (as  an  ingenious  critic 
speaks)  with  a  confused  magnificence, 
4ibove  the  little  niceties  of  order. 

If  we  look  for  the  strength  of  reasoning, 
jmd  the  warmth  of  exhortation  ;  the  insin- 
•jKiting  arts  of  genteel  address,  or  the  manly 
boldness  of  impartial  reproof;  all  the  thun- 
der of  the  orator,  without  any  of  his  os- 
tentation ;  all  the  politeness  of  the  courtier, 
without  any  of  his  tlattery — let  us  have  re- 
course to  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  to 
the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul.*  These  are  a 
specimen,  or  rather  these  are  the  standard, 
of  them  all. 

I  do  not  wonder,  therefore,  that  a  taste 
so  refnied,  and  a  judgment  so  correct  as 
Milton's,  should  discern  higher  attractivcs 
in  the  volume  of  inspiration,  than  in  the 
jnost  celebrated  authors  of  Greece  and 
Home. 


*  Another  very  remarkable  instance  of  propriety 
in  St.  Paul's  writings  is,  that  though  diffuse  in  the 
doctrinal,  they  are  concise  in  the  preceptive  parts. 
On  the  former,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  enlarge : 
on  the  latter,  it  is  always  judicious  to  be  short.  The 
<-elebrated  rule  of  Horace,  "Quictiuid  pra;cipies,  esto 
brevis,"  was  never  more  exactly  observed,  nor  more 
finely  exemplified,  than  by  our  Apostolic  author. 


"  Yet  not  the  more 

Cease  I  to  wander  where  the  iiuises  haunt. 
Clear  spring,  or  shady  grove,  or  sunny  hill, 
Smit  with  the  love  of  sacred  song  ;  but  chief 
Thee,  Sion,  and  the  flowery  banks  beneath. 
That  wash  thy  hallowed  feet,  and  warbling  flow. 
Nightly  I  visit." 

Asp.  Another  recommendation  of  the 
Scriptures  is,  that  they  afford  the  most 
awful  and  most  amiable  manifestations  of 
the  Godhead.  His  glory  shines,  and  his 
goodness  smiles,  in  those  divine  pages,  with 
unparalleled  lustre.  Here  we  have  a  satis- 
factory explanation  of  our  own  state.  The 
origin  of  evil  is  traced  ;  the  cause  of  all 
our  misery  discovered  ;  and  the  remedy, 
the  inftiUible  remedy,  both  clearly  sho\\^l, 
and  freely  offered.  The  merits  of  the 
bleeding  Jesus  lay  a  firm  foundiition  for 
all  our  hopes  j  while  gratitude  for  his  dying 
love  suggests  the  mo.st  winning  incitements 
to  eveiy  duty.  JVIorality,  Theron,  your 
(and  let  me  add,  my)  admired  morality,  is 
delineated  in  all  its  branches,  is  placed 
uj)on  its  proper  basis,  and  raised  to  its 
highest  elevation.  The  spirit  of  God  is 
promised  to  enlighten  the  darkness  of  our 
understandings,  and  strengthen  the  imbe- 
cility of  our  wills.  What  an  ample — Can 
you  indidge  me  on  this  favourite  topic  ? 

Titer.  It  is,  I  assure  you,  equally  pleas- 
ing to  myself.  Your  enlargements,  there- 
fore, need  no  apology. 

Asp.  What  ample  provision  is  made,  by 
these  blessed  books,  for  all  our  spiritual 
wants  !  And,  in  this  respect,  how  indis- 
putable is  their  superiority  to  all  other  com- 
positions ! 

Is  any  one  convinced  of  guilt,  as  provok- 
ing heaven  and  ruining  the  soul  ?  Let  him 
ask  reason  to  point  out  a  means  of  recon- 
ciliation, and  a  refuge  of  safety.  Reason 
hesitates  as  she  replies,  "  The  Deity  may, 
])erhaps,  accept  oin*  supplications,  and  grant 
forgiveness."  But  the  Scriptures  leave  its 
not  to  the  sad  uncertainty  of  conjecture  : 
They  speak  the  language  of  clear  assur- 
ance :  "  God  has  set  forth  a  jiropitiation." 
(Rom.  iii.  25.)  "  He  does  forgive  our  in- 
iquities." (Psalm  ciii.  3.)  "  He  will  re- 
member our  sins  no  more."  (Heb.  viii.  12.) 
Are  we  assaulted  by  temptation,  or 
averse  to  duty  ?  Philosojjhy  may  attempt 
to  parry  the  thrust,  or  to  stir  up  the  reluc- 
tant mind,  by  disclosing  the  deformity  of 
vice,  imd  lu'ging  the  fitness  of  things. 
Feeble  expedients  !  Just  as  \\ell  calculate^ 
to  accomplish  the  ends  proposed,  as  the 
flimsy  fortification  of  a  cobweb  to  defend 
us  from  the  ball  of  a  caimon  ;  or  as  the 
gentle  vibrations  of  a  lady's  fan  to  make  a 
wind-bound  navy  sail.  The  liible  recom- 
mends no  such  inc()mi)ctent  succours. 
"  My  grace,"  says  its  almighty  Author,  "is 
sufficient  for  thee."  (2  Cor.  xii.  9.)  "  Sin 
shall  not  have  dominion  over  you."  (Honi. 
vi.  11.)      The  grciit   JehtMali,  ia  whom  ie 


152 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


everla?tiiii?  strength,  "  he  \yorketh  in  us 
both  to  will,  and  to  do,  of  his  good  plea- 
sure." (Phil.  ii.  13.) 

Should  we  be  vi.sited  with  sickness,  or 
overtaken  by  any  calamity,  the  consolation 
which  Plato  offers  is,  that  such  dispensa- 
tions coincide  with  the  universal  plan  of 
divine  government.  Virgil  will  tell  us,  for 
oiu-  relief,  that  afflictive  .^^sitations  are, 
more  or  less,  the  unavoidable  lot  of  all 
men.  Another  moralist  whispers  in  the 
dejected  sufferer's  ear,  "  Impatience  adds  to 
the  load ;  whereas  a  calm  submission  ren- 
ders it  more  supportable."  Does  the  word 
of  revelation  dispense  such  spiritless  and 
fugitive  cordials  ?  No  :  Those  sacred  pages 
inform  us,  that  tribulations  are  fatherly 
chastisements,  tokens  of  oiu-  Maker's  love, 
and  fruits  of  his  care ;  that  they  are  in- 
tended to  work  in  us  the  peaceable  fruits  of 
righteousness,  and  to  work  out  for  us  an 
eternal  weight  of  gloiy.   (2  Cor.  iv.  17.) 

Should  we,  under  the  summons  of  death, 
have  recourse  to  the  most  celebrated  com- 
forters of  the  heathen  world,  they  would 
increase  our  apprehensions  rather  than  mi- 
tigate oiu*  dread.  Death  is  represented  by 
the  great  master  of  their  schools,  as  "  the 
most  formidable,  of  all  evils. "  They  were 
not  able  positively  to  determine  whether 
the  soul  survived ;  and  never  so  much  as 
dreamed  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body. 
Whereas,  the  book  of  God  strips  the  mon- 
ster of  his  horrors,  or  tunis  him  into  a 
messenger  of  peace  ;  gives  him  an  angel's 
face,  and  a  deliverer's  hand ;  ascertaining 
to  the  souls  of  the  righteous  an  immediate 
translation  into  the  regions  of  bliss,  and  en- 
sui'ing  to  their  bodies  a  most  advantageous 
revival  at  the  restoration  of  all  things. 

Inestimable  book  !  It  heals  the  maladies 
of  life,  and  subdues  the  fear  of  death.  It 
strikes  a  lightsome  vista  through  the  gloom 
of  the  gi-ave,  and  opens  a  charming,  a  glori- 
ous prospect  of  immortality  in  the  hea- 
vens. 

These,  with  many  other  excellencies  pe- 
culiar to  the  Scriptures,  one  would  imagine 
more  than  sufficient  to  engage  every  sensi- 
ble heart  in  their  favour,  and  introduce 
them  with  the  highest  esteem  into  every 
improved  conversation.  They  had  such  an 
effect  upon  the  finest  genius,  and  most  ac- 
complished person,  that  former  or  latter 
ages  can  boast ;  insomuch  that  he  made, 
while  li'ving,  this  public  declaration,  and 
left  it  when  he  died  upon  everlasting  re- 
cord :  "  How  sweet  are  thy  words  unto  my 
taste  !  yea,  sweeter  than  honey  unto  my 
mouth."  (Psalm  cxix.  103.)  "  O  how 
love  I  thy  law  !  it  is  my  meditation  all  the 
day."  (Psalm  cxix.  97.)  "Mine  eyes 
prevent  the  night-watches,  that  I  may  be 
occupied  in  thy  precepts ;  and  I  will  speak 
of  thy    testimonies   even    before    kings." 


(Psalm  cxix.  46.)  If  David  tasted  so  much 
sweetness  in  a  small,  and  that  the  least 
valuable  part  of  the  divine  word ;  how 
much  richer  is  the  feast  to  us,  since  the 
Gospel  is  added  to  the  Law,  and  the  canon 
of  Scripture  completed  !  since  (to  borrow 
the  words  of  a  prophet)  the  Lord  God 
"  has  sealed  up  the  sum  ;"  has  put  the  last 
hand  to  his  work ;  and  rendered  it  "  full  of 
wisdom,  and  perfect  in  beauty."  (Ezek. 
xx\-iii.  12.) 

Titer.  Another  very  distinguishing  pecu- 
liarity of  the  sacred  writings  just  occurs  to 
my  mind.  The  method  of  communicating 
advice,  or  administering  reproof,  by  para- 
bles. A  method  which  levels  itself  to  the 
lowest  apprehension,  without  giving  offence 
to  the  most  supercilious  temper ;  yet  it  is 
as  much  superior  to  plain  unoniamented  pre- 
cept, as  the  enlivened  scenes  of  a  well- 
wrought  tragedy  are  more  impressive  and 
affecting  than  a  simple  narration  of  the  plot. 

Our  Lord  was  asked  by  a  student  of  the 
Jewish  law,  "  Who  is  my  neighbour  ?" 
which  implied  another  question,  "  Plow  is 
he  to  be  loved  ?"  The  inquirer  was  con- 
ceited of  himself,  yet  ignorant  of  the  truth, 
and  deficient  in  his  duty.  Had  the  wise 
instructor  of  mankind  abruptly  declared, 
"  You  neither  know  the  former,  nor  fulfil 
the  latter,"  probably  the  querist  would  have 
reddened  v>dth  indignation,  and  departed  in 
a  rage.  Therefore  to  teach,  and  not  dis- 
gust— to  convince  the  man  of  his  error,  and 
not  exasperate  his  mind — the  blessed  Jesus 
frames  a  reply,  as  amiable  in  the  manner  as 
it  was  pertinent  to  the  purpose. 

A  certain  person  going  down  from  Jeru- 
salem to  Jericho,  fell  among  thieves,  (Luke 
X.  30. )  Not  content  to  rob  him  of  his  trea- 
siu-e,  they  strip  him  of  his  garments,  wound 
him  with  great  barbarity,  and  leave  him 
half  dead.  Soon  after  this  calamitous  ac- 
cident, a  traveller  happens  to  come  along 
that  very  road ;  and  what  renders  him  more 
likely  to  administer  relief,  he  is  one  of  the 
sacred  order  ;  one  who  taught  others  the 
lovely  lessons  of  humanity  and  charity,  and 
was  therefore  under  the  strongest  obliga- 
tions to  exemplify  them  in  his  own  practice. 
He  just  glances  an  eye  upon  the  deplorable 
object  ;  sees  him  stretched  on  the  cold 
ground,  and  weltering  in  his  blood  ;  but 
takes  no  further  notice  ;  nay,  to  avoid  the 
trouble  of  an  inquiry,  passes  by  on  the  other 
side.  Scarce  was  he  departed,  when  a  Le- 
vite  approaches.  This  man  comes  nearer, 
and  looks  on  the  miserable  spectacle  ;  takes 
a  leisurely  and  attentive  survey  of  the  case." 
And  though  every  gash  in  the  bleeding  flesh 
cried  and  pleaded  for  compassion,   this  mi- 


♦  This  seems  to  be  the  import  of  sX*?4iv  x.a.1  i^uv, 
LuUe  X.  'M.  This  diversifies  the  idea,  and  heightens 
the  desiiii<t:on,  of  Jewish  jnhumauity. 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


1.53 


nisterof  the  sanctuary  neither  speaks  a  word 
to  comfort,  nor  moves  a  hand  to  help.  Last 
comes  a  Samaritan,*  one  of  the  abhorred 
nation,  whom  the  Jew  hated  witli  the  most 
implacable  malignity.  Though  the  Levite 
had  neglected  an  expiring  brother  ;  though 
the  priest  had  withheld  his  pity  from  one 
of  the  Lord's  peculiar  people  ;  the  very 
moment  the  Samaritan  sees  the  unhappy 
sufferer,  he  melts  into  commiseration.  He 
forgets  the  imbittered  foe,  and  considers 
only  the  distressed  fellow-creature.  He 
springs  from  his  horse,  and  resolves  to  inter- 
mit his  journey.  The  oil  and  wine,  intend- 
ed for  his  own  refreshment,  he  freely  con- 
verts into  healing  unguents.  He  binds  up 
the  wounds  ;  sets  the  disabled  stranger  up- 
on his  own  beast  ;  and,  with  all  the  assidui- 
ty of  a  servant,  with  all  the  tenderness  of  a 
brother,  conducts  him  to  an  inn.  There  he 
deposits  money  for  his  present  use  ;  charges 
the  host  to  omit  nothing  that  might  conduce 
to  the  recoveiy  or  comfort  of  his  guest ;  and 
promises  to  defray  the  whole  expense  of 
his  lodging,  his  maintenance,   and  his  cm-e. 

What  a  lively  picture  this  of  the  most 
dii3\nterested  and  active  benevolence  !  A 
benevolence  which  excludes  no  persons,  not 
even  strangers  or  enemies,  from  its  tender 
regards  ;  which  disdains  no  condescension, 
gi'udges  no  cost,  in  its  labours  of  love. 
Could  any  method  of  conviction  have  been 
more  forcible,  and  at  the  same  time  more 
pleasing,  than  the  interrogatory  proposed  by 
our  Lord,  and  deduced  from  the  story  ? 
"  Which  now  of  these  three,  thinkest  thou, 
was  neighbour  unto  him  that  fell  among  the 
thieves  ?"  Or  can  there  be  an  advice  more 
suitable  to  the  occasion,  more  important  in 
its  nature,  or  expressed  with  a  more  senten- 
tious energy,  than  "  Go  thou,  and  do  like- 
wise ?"  In  this  case,  the  learner  instructs, 
the  delinquent  condemns,  himself.  Bigot- 
ry bears  away  its  prejudice  ;  and  pride, 
(when  the  moral  so  sweetly,  so  impercepti- 
bly insinuates,)  even  pride  itself  lends  a 
willing  ear  to  admonition. 

Asp.  It  has  been  very  justly  remarked. 
That  this  eloquence  of  similitudes  is  equal- 
ly affecting  to  the  wise,  and  intelligible  to 
the  ignorant.  It  shows,  rather  than  relates, 
the  point  to  be  illustrated.  It  has  been  ad- 
mired by  the  best  judges  in  all  ages  ;  but 
never  was  carried  to  its  highest  perfection, 
till  our  Lord  spoke  the  parable  of  the  pro- 
digal, (Luke  XV.  11.  &c.  ;)  which  has  a 
beauty  that  no  paraphrase  can  heighten,  a 
perspicuity  that  renders  all  interpretation 
needless,  and  a  force  which  every  reader 
not  totally  insensible  must  feel. 

JV/er.  The  conde.'^cension  and  goodness 
of  God  are  everywhere   conspicuous.      In 


*  If  this  W.-IS  a  parable,  wp  rannot  but  admire  the 
accurary  of  our  Lord,  both  ii;  Ia;,-ing  the  scene,  and 
iclectiiig  the  circumstanas. 


the  productions  of  nature,  he  conveys  to  us 
the  most  valuable  fruits,  by  the  intervention 
of  the  loveliest  blossoms.  Though  the 
present  is  in  itself  extremely  acceptable,  he 
has  given  it  an  additional  endearment,  by 
the  beauties  which  array  it,  or  the  perfumes 
which  surround  it In  the  pages  of  revel- 
ation likewise,  he  has  communicated  to  us 
the  most  glorious  truths,  adorned  with  all 
the  graces  of  composition  ;  such  as  may 
polish  the  man  of  genius,  and  improve  the 
man  of  worth  ;  such  as  highly  delight  our 
imagination,  even  while  they  cultivate  and 
reliiie  om-  morals.  So  that  they  really  are, 
as  one  of  their  divine  authors  very  elegant- 
ly sjieaks,  "  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures 
of  silver."* 

Asp.  Who  then  would  not  gladly  receive 
that  gracious  exhortation,  "  Let  the  word  of 
Christ  dwell  in  you  richly  ?"  (  Col.  iii.  Ifi. ) 
Who  would  not  willingly  obey  that  benign 
command,  "  Thou  shalt  talk  of  it  when 
thou  sittest  in  thine  house,  and  when  thou 
walkest  by  the  way  ;  when  thou  liest  down, 
and  when  thou  risest  up  ?"  (Deut.  vi.  7.) 

When  I  consider  the  language  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  sometimes  experience  their 
energy  on  my  soul,  I  am  inclined  to  say, 
"  Other  writings,  though  polished  with  the 
nicest  touches  of  art,  only  tinkle  on  the  ear, 
or  affect  lis  hke  the  shejjherd's  reed.  But 
these,  even  amidst  all  their  noble  negligence, 
strike,  alarm,  transport  us  somewhat  like 
the  voice  of  thinider,  or  the  archangel's  trum- 
pet." 

When  I  consider  the  contents  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  believe  myself  interested  in 
the  promises  they  make,  and  the  prinleges 
they  confer,  I  am  induced  to  cry  our, 
"  What  are  all  the  other  books  in  the 
world,  compared  with  these  invaluable  vo- 
lumes ?  No  more  than  an  entertaining  no- 
vel, or  a  few  prudential  rules  for  domestic 
economy,  compared  with  a  parent's  will,  a 
royal  charter,  or  an  imperial  grant  of  titles 
and  manors." 

All  these  circumstances  remind  me  of  an 
encomium  most  deservedly  given  to  the  Bi- 
ble •,  which,  though  quite  artless,  is,  I  think, 
abundantly  more  expressive  than  the  most 
elaborate  efforts  of  rhetoric.  It  came  from 
the  lips  of  a  martyr  ;  who,  being  condemn- 
ed to  die  for  his  inviolable  adherence  to  the 
doctrines  of  Scripture,  when  he  arrived  at 
the  stake,  and  had  composed  himself  for  his 
execution,  took  his  fin<J  leave  in  these  af- 
fecting words  ;  "  Farewell  sun  and  moon  I 


•  Prov.  XXV.  11.— Theron  follows  the  received 
translation.  I  should  prefer  the  expression  of  Glassius, 
who  supposes  ^DH  t/T'3Ji'D  to  signify,  "  Reti- 
acula  argentea,  in  quibus  oculi  sunt  mniutissimi,  pe- 
netrabiles  tamen  visu."  According  to  this  interpre- 
tation, the  passage  will  present  us  with  apples  of  gold 
in  ntt-work,  or  lattice-work  of  silver;  where  the  tino 
fruit  receives  a  new  charm,  by  showing  itself  through 
ihe  elegant  apertures  of  the  silver. 


154 


TllEROX  AND  A5FASI0. 


farewell  all  the  beauties  of  creation,  and 
comforts  of  life  !  farewell  my  lionoured 
friends  !  farewell  my  beloved  relations  !  and 
farewell,  thou  precious,  precious  Book  of 
God  !" 

Aspasio  had  scarce  uttered  the  last  sen- 
tence, when  a  ser\'ant  came  to  let  them 
know  "  supper  was  upon  the  table." — 
Very  opportunely,  said  Theron,  has  our  re- 
past waited  till  our  conference  is  ended. 
"We  have  showed  what  a  large  field  of  de- 
lightl'ul  speculation  the  Scriptm-es  open  ; 
and  what  ample  materials  for  the  most  re- 
fined discourse  they  afford.  As  nothing 
can  be  more  ungraceful,  than  to  neglect  in 
our  o\vTi  conduct  what  we  recommend  to 
the  practice  of  others,  let  us,  this  very 
night,  begin  to  ennoble  our  interviews  with 
these  improving  subjects, — let  us  endeavour 
to  make  religious  conversation,  which  is  in 
all  respects  desirable,  in  some  degree  fa- 
shionable. 


DIALOGUE  II. 

The  next  morning,  when  breakfast  was 
over,  Theron  and  Aspasio  took  a  walk  into 
the  garden — their  spirits  cheered,  and  their 
imaginations  lively — gratitude  glowing  in 
their  hearts,  and  the  whole  creation  smiling 
around  them. 

The  spot  adjoining  to  the  house  was  ap- 
propriated to  the  cultivation  of  flowers.  In 
a  variety  of  handsome  compartments  were 
assembled  the  choicest  beauties  of  blooming 
nature.  Here  the  hyacinth  hung  her  silken 
bells,  or  the  lilies  reared  their  silver  pyra- 
mids. There  stood  the  neat  narcissus, 
loosely  attired  in  a  mantle  of  snowy  lustre  : 
or  the  splendid  ranunculus  wore  a  full-trim- 
med suit  of  radiant  scarlet.  Pinks  were 
rising  to  enamel  the  borders  ;  roses  were 
opening  to  dress  the  walls  ;  surrounded  on 
all  sides  with  a  profusion  of  beauteous  forms, 
either  latent  in  the  stalk,  or  biu-sting  the 
buds,  or  blown  into  fidl  expansion. 

This  was  bounded  by  a  slight  partition, 
a  sort  of  verdant  pai-apet,  through  which 
they  descend  by  an  easy  flight  of  steps,  and 
are  presented  with  the  elegant  simplicity  of 
the  kitchen  garden.  In  one  place  you 
might  see  the  marigold  flowering,  or  the 
beans  in  blossom.  In  another,  the  endive 
curled  her  leaves,  or  the  lettuce  thickened 
her  tufts  ;  cauliflowers  sheltered  their  fair 
complexion  under  a  green  umbrella  ;  wliile 
the  burrage  dishevelled*  her  locks,  and 
braided  them  with  blooming  jewels,  of  a 
finer  azure  than  the  finest  sapjjhircs.  On 
the  sunny  slopes,  the   cucumber  aJid  melon 


lay  basking  in  the  collected  beams.  On 
the  raised  beds,  the  artichoke  seemed  to  be 
erecting  a  standard,  while  the  asparagus 
shot*  into  ranks  of  spears.  The  level 
ground  produced  all  manner  of  cooling  sa- 
lads and  nourishing  esculents.  Nothing 
was  wanting  to  furnish  out  the  wholesome 
luxury  of  an  antediluvian  banquet. 

Soon  a  high  wall  intervenes,  through 
which  a  wicket  opens,  and  transmits  them 
into  the  regular  and  equidistant  rows  of  an 
orchard.  This  plantation  is  so  nicely  ad- 
justed, that  it  looks  like  an  arrangement  of 
rural  piazzas,  or  a  collection  of  diversified 
\dstas.  The  eye  is  everywhere  entertained 
with  the  exactest  uniformity,  and  darts  with 
unobstructed  ease  from  the  one  end  of  the 
branching  files  to  the  other.  On  all  the 
boughs  lay  a  lovely  evolution  of  blossoms, 
arrayed  in  milky  white,  or  tinged  with  the 
softest  red.  Crowding  into  one  general 
cluster,  without  relinquishing  any  vacant 
space  for  leaves,  they  formed  the  fairest, 
the  gayest,  the  grandest  alcove  that  fancy 
itself  can  imagine.  It  is  really  like  the 
court  of  the  Graces.  None  can  approach 
it  Avithout  finding  his  ideas  brightened,  and 
feeling  his  temper  exhilarated. 

Cohtiguous  to  this  correct  disposition  of 
things,  nature  had  thrown  a  wilderness, 
hoary,  grotesque,  and  magnificently  confus 
ed.  It  stretched  itself,  with  a  large  circu- 
lar sweep,  to  the  north  ;  and  secured  both 
the  olitory  and  the  orchard  from  incommod- 
ing winds.  Copses  of  hazel  and  flowering 
shrubs  filled  the  lower  spaces,  while  pop- 
lars quivered  aloft  in  air,  and  pines  pierced 
the  clouds  with  their  leafy  spears.  Here 
grew  clumps  of  fir,  clad  in  everlasting 
green  ;  there  stood  groves  of  oak,  that  had 
weathered  for  ages  the  wintry  storm. 
Amidst  this  woody  theatre  ran  a  winding 
walk,  lined  with  elms  of  insuperable  height, 
whose  branches,  uniting  at  the  top,  reared 
a  stately  arch,  and  projected  a  solemn 
shade.  It  was  impossible  to  enter  this 
lofty  labyrinth  without  being  stnu-k  with  a 
pleasing  dread.  As  they  proceed,  every 
inflection  diffuses  a  deeper  gloom,  and 
awakens  a  more  pensive  attention. 

Ha\dng  stroUed  in  this  darksome  avenue 
without  a  speck  of  sunshine,  without  a 
glimpse  of  the  heavens,  on  a  sudden  they 
step  into  open  day. — Surprising  !  cries  As- 
pasio, what  a  change  is  this  !  what  delight- 
ful enchantment  is  here  ! — One  instant 
whelmed  in  Trephonius'  cave,*  where  hor- 


*  Referring  to  the  loose  irrcg\ilar  manner  of  its  foli- 

itioii. 


*  Alluding;,  not  only  to  the  shape,  but  also  to  the 
growth  of  this  plant,  which  is  so  unusually  quick, 
that  it  may  almost  be  said  to  start,  rather  than  to  rise 
out  of  the  earth. 

t  The  reader  may  find  a  curious  account  of  this 
cave,  together  with  a  very  humorous,  and  (which 
should  always  accompany  humour,  or  else  it  will  he 
like  a  sting  without  thehoney)  an  improving  de^rnii- 
tion  of  its  effects,  in  the  SpecCator,  Vol.  viii.  No.  Sijii, 
5<)0. 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


1.55 


rOr  frowns,  and  darkness  lowers,  and  soli- 
tude reigns  :  transported  the  next  into  tlie 
romantic  scenes  of  Arcadia,  where  all  is 
pojiulous,  all  is  lightsome,  and  all  is  gay. — 
Quick  as  thought,  the  arches  of  heaven 
expand  their  azure  ;  turrets  and  spires  shoot 
into  the  skies  ;  towns,  with  their  spacious 
edifices,  spread  themselves  to  the  admiring 
view.  Those  lawns,  green  with  fieshest 
herbage  ;  those  fields,  rich  with  undulating 
corn  ;  where  were  they  all  a  moment  ago  ? 
— It  brings  to  my  mind  that  remarkable 
situation  of  the  Jewish  lawgiver,  when,  ele- 
vated on  the  summit  of  Pisgah,  he  surveyed 
the  goodly  land  of  promise  ;  "  surveyed  the 
rivers,  the  floods,  the  brooks  of  honey  and 
butter  ;"  surveyed  "  the  mountains  drop- 
ping with  wine,  and  the  hills  flowing  with 
milk,"  (Job  XX.  17.  Joel  iii.  18.)  surveyed 
all  with  those  eyes,  which,  for  forty  tedious 
years,  had  been  confined  to  diy  sands,  rag- 
ged rocks,  and  the  irksome  wastes  of  a  de- 
solate howling  wilderness. 

Here  they  seated  themselves  on  the  first 
mossy  hillock  which  ofltred  its  couch.  The 
rising  sun  had  visited  the  spot,  to  dry  up 
the  dews,  and  exhale  the  damps  that  might 
endanger  health  ;  to  open  the  violets,  and 
expand  the  primroses  that  decked  the  green. 
The  whole  shade  of  the  wood  was  collected 
behind  them ;  and  a  beautiful,  extensive, 
diversified  landscape  spread  itself  before 
them. 

Theron,  according  to  his  usual  manner, 
made  many  improving  remarks  on  the  pro- 
spect and  its  furniture.  He  traced  the 
footstejjs  of  an  all-comprehending  contri- 
vance, and  pointed  ont  the  strokes  of  ini- 
mitable skill.  He  ob?erved  the  grand  ex- 
ertions of  power,  and  tlie  rich  exuberance 
of  goodness,  most  signally,  most  charmingly 
conspicuous  through  the  whole — Upon  one 
circumstance  he  eidarged  with  a  particidar 
satisfaction. 

Titer.  See,  Aspasio,  how  all  is  calculated 
to  administer  the  highest  delight  to  man- 
kind. Those  trees  and  hedges,  which  skirt 
the  extremities  of  the  landscape,  stealing 
away  from  their  real  bulk,  and  lessening  by 
gentle  diminutions,  appear  like  elegant  pic- 
tures in  miniature.  Those  which  occupy 
.the  nearer  situations  are  a  set  of  noble 
images,  swelling  upon  the  eye,  in  full  jjro- 
jjortion,  and  in  a  variety  of  graceful  atti- 
tudes ;  both  of  them  ornamenting  the  se- 
veral apartments  of  cur  conunon  abode, 
\\itli  a  mixture  of  delicacy  and  grandeur. 

The  blossoms  that  an-<iy  the  branches, 
the  flowers  that  embroider  the  mead,  ad- 
dress and  entertain  our  eyes  with  every 
charm  of  beauty  ;*  wheretis,  to  otiier  crea- 


•  'f'lff^ff"'^.  when  the  prophet  describes  the  f'hris- 
tiaii  cluirch,  adorned  witli  all  the  "  beavitics  of  holi- 
lu'fs,"  ho  borrows  his  imagery  from  these  amiable  ob- 
jects; "  Israel  shall  bud  and  blossom, "  I sii.  xxvii.  fi. 


tures,  they  are  destitute  of  all  those  attrac- 
tives  which  result  from  a  combination  of 
the  loveliest  colours  and  most  alluring 
forms.  Yonder  streams,  that  glide  with 
smooth  serenity  along  the  valleys,  glitter- 
ing to  the  distant  view  like  sheets  of  po- 
lished crystal,  or  soothing  the  attentive  ear 
with  the  softness  of  aquatic  mnrinurs,  are 
no  less  exliilarating  to  the  fancy  than  to  the 
soil  through  which  they  pass.  The  huge 
enormous  mountain,  the  steep  and  dizzy 
precipice,  the  pendent  horrors  of  the  craggy 
promontory,  wild  and  tremendous  as  tliey 
are,  furnish  out  an  agreeable  enteitainment 
to  the  human  mind,  and  please  even  while 
they  terrify  ;  whereas  the  beasts  take  no 
other  notice  of  those  majestic  deformities, 
than  oidy  to  avoid  the  dangers  they  threaten. 

Asp.  How  wonderfully  do  such  consid- 
erations exalt  our  idea  of  the  Creator's 
goodness,  his  very  distinguishing  goodness  to 
mankind  !  And  should  they  not  jiroportion- 
ably  endear  that  eternal  Benefactor  to  our 
afl!ections  ?  His  ever-bountiful  hand  has 
scattered  blessings,  and  with  profuse  liber- 
ality, among  all  the  ranks  of  animated  ex- 
istence. But  to  us  he  exercises  a  benefi- 
cence of  a  very  superior  kind.  We  are 
treated  as  his  peculiar  favourites.  We  are 
admitted  to  scenes  of  delight,  which  none 
but  ourselves  are  capable  of  relishing. 

Ther.  Another  remark,  though  very  ob- 
vious, is  equally  important :  The  destination 
of  all  those  external  things  is  no  less  advan- 
tageous, than  their  formation  is  beautiful. 
The  bloom,  which  engages  the  eye  with  its 
delicate  hues,  is  cherishing  the  embryo  fruit, 
end  forming  within  its  silken  folds  the  rudi- 
ments of  a  future  desert.  Those  streams, 
which  shine  from  afar  like  fluid  silver,  are 
much  more  valuable  in  their  productions, 
and  beneficial  in  their  services,  than  they 
are  amiable  in  their  a])pearance.  They  dis- 
tribute, as  they  roll  along  their  winding 
banks,  cleaidiness  to  oin-  houses,  and  fruit- 
fulness  to  our  lands.  They  nourish,  and  at 
their  own  expense,  a  never-failing  supply 
of  the  finest  fish.  They  visit  our  cities, 
and  attend  our  wharfs,  as  so  many  public 
vehicles,  ready  to  set  out  at  iill  hours. 

Those  sheep,  which  give  their  udders  to 
be  drained  by  the  busy  frisking  lambs,  are 
fattening  their  flesh  for  our  support ;  and 
while  they  fill  their  own  fleeces,  are  pro- 
viding for  our  comfortable  clothing.  Yon- 
der kine — some  of  which  are  browsing 
upon  the  tender  herb,  others,  satiated  with 
pasturage,  ruminate  under  the  shady  covert 
— though  conscious  of  no  such  design, 
are   concocting,    for  our  use,  one   of  the 


r-Nay,  the  very  "wilderness,  even  the  Oentile  na- 
tions, being  converted  unto  Christ,  "  shall  l)lossoni  as 
a  ro.se,  Isa.  xxxv.  1. — "  I  will  be  as  the  dew  unto  Is- 
rael ;  he  shall  blossom  as  the  lily,  and  cast  forth  his 
roolsas  Lebanon:  Hos.  xiv.  .5.  What  an  elegant  pic- 
ture !  and  wh::t  a  comfortable  pron'.isc  ! 


156 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


softest,  purest,  Lcalthiest  liquors  in  the 
world.  The  bees  that  fly  humming  about 
our  seat,  and  pursue  their  work  on  the  fra 
grant  blossoms,  are  collecting  balm  and 
sweetness,  to  compose  the  richest  of  sy- 
rups ;  which,  though  the  produce  of  their 
toil,  is  intended  for  our  good. 

Nature,  and  her  whole  family,  are  our 
obsequious  servants,  our  ever-active  labour- 
ers. They  bring  the  fruits  of  their  united 
industry,  and  pour  them  into  our  lap,  or  de- 
posit them  in  our  store-rooms. 

Asp.  Who  can  ever  sufficiently  admire 
this  immense  benignity  ? — The  supreme 
Disposer  of  events  has  commanded  delight 
and  })rofit  to  waJk  hand  in  hand  through 
his  ample  creation  ;  making  all  things  so 
perfectly  pleasing,  as  if  beauty  was  their 
only  end  ;  yet  all  things  so  eminently  ser- 
viceable, as  if  usefulness  had  been  their 
sole  design.  And,  as  a  most  winning  in- 
vitation to  our  gratitude,  he  has  rendered 
man  the  centre,  in  which  all  the  emanations 
of  his  beneficence,  diffused  through  this 
terrestrial  system,  finally  terminate. 

But,  my  dear  Theron,  is  not  this  appa- 
rent, in  a  miu'h  more  wonderful  manner, 
throughout  the  whole  economy  of  redemp- 
tion? It  were  a  small  thing  for  this  inferior 
class  of  unintelligent  creatures,  to  be  con- 
tinually employing  themselves  for  our  be- 
nefit. Even  the  Son  of  the  most  high 
God,  thiough  all  his  incarnate  state  acted 
the  very  same  part.  He  took  fiesh,  and 
bore  the  infirmities  of  human  nature,  not 
for  himself,  but  for  us  men,  and  our  salva- 
tion. He  suffered  want,  and  endured  mi- 
sery in  all  its  forms,  that  we  might  possess 
the  fulness  of  joy,  and  abound  in  pleasures 
for  evermore.  When  he  poured  out  his 
soul  in  agonies,  under  the  curse  of  an  aveng- 
ing law,  was  it  not  with  a  compassionate 
view  to  make  us  partakers  of  etenial  bless- 
edness ?  When  he  fulfilled,  perfectly  ful- 
filled the  whole  commanding  law,  was  it  not 
for  this  gracious  purpose  that  his  merits 
might  be  imputed  to  us,  that  we  by  his 
obedience  might  be  made  righteous  ?   Yes  ; 

"  For  us  he  liv'd, 

Toi  I'd  for  our  ease,  and  for  our  safety  bled." 

Nothing  in  the  whole  course — 

T/ier.  Pardon  me  for  interrupting  you, 
Aspasio.  I  have  no  objection  to  the  ge- 
neral drift  of  your  discourse  ;  but  that  par- 
ticular notion  of  imputed  righteousness  has 
always  appeared  to  me  in  a  very  ridiculous 
light.  And  I  must  say,  that  such  a  puri- 
taiucal  nostrum  makes  a  very  unbecoming 
figure  amongst  your  other  manly  and  correct 
sentiments  of  religion. 

Asp.   You  know,   Theron,  I  have   long 
ago  disavowed  that  ignoble  prejudice,  which 
rejects  doctrines,   or  desj)ises  persons,  be 
cause  they  happen  to  be  branded  with  con- 
t<?mptible  names-     It  is  tnie  the  writers 


styled  Puritans,  are  remarkable  for  their  at- 
tachment to  this  peculiarity  of  the  gospel. 
It  runs  through  all  their  theological  works, 
and  veiy  eminently  distinguishes  them  from 
the  generality  of  our  modern  treatises.  But 
must  it  therefore  be  wrong,  because  main- 
tained by  that  particular  set  of  people  ?  Or, 
are  they  only  advocates  for  this  important 
truth  ? 

TTier.  Ay ;  it  is  as  I  suspected.  I  have 
lately  conjectured,  from  several  hints  in  my 
Aspasio's  discourse,  that  he  has  been  warp- 
ing to  the  low  ungentleman-like  peculiari- 
ties of  those  whimsical  fanatics. 

Asp.  I  can:iot  conceive  why  you  should 
call  them  whimsical.  To  settle  faith  on 
its  proper  basis — the  meritorious  righteous- 
ness of  the  Redeemer  ;  and  to  deduce  from 
Its  true  origin — the  love  of  God  shed 
abroad  in  the  heart ;  to  search  the  consci- 
ence, and  convince  the  judgment  ;  to 
awaken  the  lethargic,  and  comfort  the  af- 
flicted soul ;  and  all  from  a  thorough  know- 
ledge, joined  to  a  masterly  application,  of 
the  divine  word ; — these,  siu-e,  are  not 
whimsical  talents,  but  real  excellencies. 
Yet  these,  if  we  may  credit  history,  entered 
into  the  preaching ;  these,  if  we  will  ex- 
amine impartially,  are  to  be  found  in  the 
writings  of  the  Puritans. — And  a  pearl,  you 
will  please  to  remember,  is  a  pearl  still, 
though  it  should  hang  in  the  Ethiopian's 
ear. 

Ther.  Ethiopian  indeed  !  You  have  truly 
characterised  that  demure  and  gloomy  ge- 
neration. I  hope  you  do  not  intend  to  in- 
troduce their  affected  solemnity  and  forbid- 
den reserve,  into  your  own  easy  and  engag- 
ing conversation.  Though,  for  aught  I  can 
judge,  this  would  be  no  more  ungracefid, 
than  to  patch  such  antiquated  notions  on  the 
refined  scheme  of  Christianity. 

Asp.  My  dear  friend,  you  are  too  ludi- 
crous ;  and  I  begin  to  catch  the  infection. 
We  had  better  return  to  our  first  topic. 
Let  us  contemplate  the  wonders  of  creation, 
and  as  we  admire  the  works,  learn  to  adore 
the  Maker. 

Ther.  None  of  your  evasions,  good  As- 
piisio.  You  must  not  think  to  put  me  off 
at  this  rate.  I  have  wanted  an  ojjportuni- 
ty  to  rally  you  upon  this  head,  and  to  argue 
or  laugh  you  out  of  these  religious  oddities. 

Asp.  If  you  will  not  agree  to  terms  of 
})eace,  I  hojie  you  will  allow  some  cessa- 
tion of  arms.  At  least  till  I  can  muster 
my  forces,  and  prepare  for  the  vindication 
of  my  principles. 

7'htr.  No  ;  upon  the  spot,  and  out  of 
hand,  you  are  required  to  answer  for  your- 
self, and  these  same  queer  opinions. — I 
shall  serve  you  as  the  Roman  con  ul  served 
the  procrastinating  monarch-  Wlien  he  de- 
isua'red  about  his  reply  to  the  demands  of 
riie  senate,  and  said,  "  he  woidd  consider  of 


TUEIION  AND  ASPASIO. 


I.>7 


the  matter  ;"  the  rer-oliite  ambassador  drew 
a  circle  round  him  with  his  ciiiie,  aiid  insist- 
ed u])on  a  positive  answer,  before  he  step- 
ped over  those  limits. 

Asp.  This,  however,  you  will  give  me 
leave  to  observe,  that  the  affair  is  of  a  very 
serious  nature.  Upon  condition  that  you  will 
dismiss  your  flourishes  ofuat,  and  strokes  of 
satire,  I  will  acquaint  you  with  the  reasons 
which  ha\-e  made  me  a  thorough  convert  to 
this  doctrine.  Once  I  held  it  in  the  utmost 
contempt,  and  pitied  the  simplicity  of  (as  I 
then  styled  them)  its  deluded  admirers.  But 
I  am  now  become  such  a  fool,  that  I  may 
be  truly  wise  and  substantially  happy.  I 
have  seen  my  ruined  state,  and  I  bless  God 
for  this  sovereign  restorative.  It  is  the 
source  of  my  strongest  consolations,  and  the 
very  foundation  of  my  eternal  hopes. 

T/ier.  Excuse  mc,  Aspasio,  if  the  vivaci- 
ty of  my  temper,  andt  he  seemingly  uncouth 
tenet,  kindled  me  into  a  more  humorous 
gaiety  than  became  the  occasion.  You 
speak  of  the  point  with  so  much  serious- 
ness, and  in  such  weighty  terms,  as  check 
my  levity,  and  command  my  respect-  Be 
pleased  to  execute  what  you  have  promised, 
and  the  most  engaged  attention  of  my  mind 
shall  atone  for  the  petulent  sallies  of  my 
tongue. 

Asp.  To  conceive  a  dislike  of  any  doc- 
trine, only  because  persons  of  a  particular 
denomination  have  been  veiy  officious  to  pro- 
mote its  reception  ;  this  is  hardly  consistent 
with  an  impartial  inquiry  after  truth. 

Ther.  1  grant  it,  Aspasio.  And  I  should 
be  ashamed  of  my  ojjposition,  if  it  was 
founded  on  so  slight  a  bottom.  But,  ab- 
stracted from  all  party  considerations,  I 
can  see  nothing  in  tliis  supposed  article  of 
our  faith  that  may  recommend  it  to  the  un- 
prejudiced inquirer.  V/hat  can  be  more 
a\^■kward  than  the  tenn,  or  more  iiTational 
than  the  sentiment  ? 

Asp.  Tlie  word  imputed,  when  used  in 
this  coimexion,  may  possibly  convey  a  dis- 
agreeable sound  to  the  ears  of  some  people, 
because  they  look  upon  it  as  the  peculiar 
phraseology  of  a  few  superstitious  sectarists, 
and  reject  it  merely  on  the  foot  of  that  un- 
reasonable surmise. — But  how  can  you  be 
disgusted  at  the  expression,  Theron,  who 
have  so  often  read  it  in  the  most  approved 
and  judicious  writers?  St.  Paul,  who  might 
aflirm  with  relation  to  his  epistles,  much 
more  truly  than  the  painter  concerning  his 
portraits,  "  I  write  for  eternity,"*  scruj)lcs 
not  to  use  this  awkward  language  several 
limes  in  the  same    chapter- ■!■     JMilton,  the 


*  Ailudinf;  to  the  painter,  who,  apolOjjizing  for  the 
slow  procfilure  ami  scnipulously  nice  tiniches  of  his 
pencil,  saiil,  /Ktrrnitnti  /ihii,',,,  "I  paint  for  eternity.'' 
t  ^ee  GoiU-  iv.  in  which  single  cliapter,  soine 
branch  of  the  wor<l  Aoy/gf  <'«.  "to  be  iminitcd," 
occuis  no  iesi  tlian  ten  or  eJeveu  tiines. 


coiTectncss  of  whose  tarte,  and  the  propriety 
of  whose  style,  no  person  of  genius  will  ever 
question,  delights  to  copy,  in  various  parts 
of  his  incomparable  poem,  the  Apostle's 
diction.  Authorized  by  such  precedents, 
it  is  superior  to  cavil,  and  warranted  be- 
yond all  exception. 

As  to  the  sentiment,  I  take  it  to  be  the 
very  fundamental  article  of  the  gospel ;  and 
I  believe,  whoever  is  acquainted  with  ec- 
clesiastical history  will  allow  that  it  bore 
the  principal  sway  in  extricating  us  from 
popish  darkness,  and  introducing  the  Re- 
formation. What  says  our  Lord,  with  re- 
gard to  the  love  of  God  and  the  love  of  our 
neighbour  ?  "  On  these  two  commandments 
hang  all  the  law  and  the  prophets."  Much 
the  same  would  I  venture  to  say  concerning 
the  imputation  of  oiu-  sins  to  Christ,  and 
the  imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness  to 
us  :  On  these  two  doctrines  hang  all  the 
privileges  and  the  whole  glory  of  the  gos- 
pel. 

Ther.  In  our  last  conversation,  I  must 
own,  I  saw  a  strong  resemblance  between 
the  works  and  the  word  of  God.  But  I 
never  observed  any  thing  in  nature  that  bore 
the  least  analogy  to  imputed  sin  or  imputed 
righteousness.  To  me  yoin-  two  doctrines 
seem  very  iniaccountable  and  irrational. 

Asp.  That  oiu-  sins  should  be  charged 
upon  the  only  begotten  Son  of  God,  and 
that  his  righteousness  should  be  made  over 
to  sinful  worms,  is  strange,  exceeding  strange. 
The  Psalmist  calls  it,  "  marvellous  loving 
kindness,"  (Psal.  xvii.  7.)  The  Apostle 
styles  it,  "  love  that  passeth  knowledge," 
(Eph.  iii.  19.)  And  it  has  sometimes,  I 
must  freely  confess,  been  almost  ready  to 
stagger  my  belief.  However,  I  have  found 
myself  relieved  in  this  perplexity,  not  only 
by  the  testimonies  of  Scriptiuc,  but  even 
from  the  contemplation  of  nature.  All  na- 
ture is  fidl  of  strange  and  mysterious  effects, 
consequently,  is  a  voucher  for  the  mysteri- 
ous truths  of  Christianity. 

How  surprising  are  the  experiments  of 
electricity,  and  the  occult  qualities  of  the 
loadstone  J  How  sm-prising  those  cotmtless 
legions  of  effluvia  which  transpire  from  a 
small  odoriferous  body  !  and  those  infinite 
myriads  of  luminous  particles,  which  issue 
from  a  smaller  flaming  substance  !*  There 
is  not  a  blade  of  grass,  but  surpasses  the 
comprehension  of  all  mankind  :  and  not  a 
single  atom,  but  is  big  with  wonders ;  inso- 
much, that  the  intelligent  observer  can  no- 
where fix  his  thoughts,  without  being  aston- 
ished, transported,  and  even  lost  in  admira- 
tion. 


*  Dr.  Nieuwentyt  has  computed,  that  from  s 
hfjhted  candle,  about  the  size  of  six  to  the  pound, 
there  issues,  in  the  second  of  a  minute,  an  eBusion  oS 
particles,  vastly  more  than  the  number  of  sauUs  whiclj 
the  whole  gjobe  of  the  earth  contains. 


158 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Since  the  procedure  of  Prondenee  in 
this  visible  system  is  a  continued  series  of 
stupendous  and  imsearchable  operations  ; 
need  we  be  alarmed,  can  we  reasonably  be 
offended,  if  the  scheme  of  redemption  is 
equally  stupendous,  is  far  more  amazing  ? 
Yet,  though  amazing,  I  hope  it  will  not  ap- 
pear, what  you  was  pleased  to  insinuate,  ir- 
rational. 

Suppose  we  state  the  signification  of  the 
terms,  and  adjust  the  boundaries  of  our 
subject,  before  we  enter  upon  a  survey  of 
its  contents  ? 

Ther.  Such  a  caution  would  have  pre- 
vented, at  least  have  shortened,  many  a  ve- 
hement and  tedious  controversy. — You  see, 
on  yonder  heath,  the  preparations  for  an  ap- 
proaching race.  There  stand  the  posts 
which  are  to  mark  out  the  limits  of  the 
course.  Without  this  previous  restrictive 
care,  how  irregidar  woidd  be  the  excursions 
of  the  contending  steeds  !  How  difficult, 
rather  how  impossible,  to  declare  the  con- 
queror and  award  the  prize  ! — -A  clear  de- 
finition of  terms  seems  equally  necessary  for 
candid  disputants.  AVithout  it,  they  may 
wrangle  for  ages,  and  never  come  to  a  de- 
termination. 

Asp.  Justification  is  an  act  of  God  Al- 
mighty's grace  ;  whereby  he  acquits  his  peo- 
ple from  guilt,  and  accounts  them  righteous,* 
for  the  sake  of  Christ's  righteousness,  which 
was  wrought  out  for  them,  and  is  imputed 
to  them. 

Ther.  Two  of  your  terms  want  some 
fmther  exjjlication.  What  do  you  under- 
stand by  Christ's  righteousness?  And  what 
is  the  meaning  of  imputed  ? 

Asp.  By  Christ's  riyhteousness,  I  under- 
stand the  whole  of  his  active  and  passive 
obedience  ;  springing  from  the  perfect  ho- 
liness of  his  heart,  continued  through  the 
whole  progress  of  his  life,  and  extending  to 
the  very  last  pang  of  his  death. — By  the 
word  imputed,  I  would  signify,  that  this 
righteousness,  though  performed  by  our 
Lord,  is  placed  to  our  account  ;  is  reckon- 
ed or  adjudged  by  God  as  our  own.  Inso- 
much, that  we  may  plead  it,  and  rely  on  it, 
for  the  pardon  of  our  sins,  for  adoption  into 
Ms  family,  and  for  the  enjoyment  of  life 
eternal. — Shall  I  illustrate  my  meaning  by 
a  well-attested  fact  ? 

Titer.  Nothing  gives  us  so  easy  a  concep- 
tion of  any  difficidt  point,  as  tins  method  of 
explaining  by  parallel  facts,  or  proper  si- 
militudes. 

Asp.  I  do  not  say  the  case  is  parallel. — 
I  only  produce  it,  to  aid  our  conceptions. — 
Onesimus,  you  know,  was  Philemon's  slave,  f 


•  Should  any  reader  object  to  the  definition,  ap- 
prehending, that  justification  implies  no  more  than 
the  pardon  of  sins,  I  would  desire  him  to  suspend  his 
judgment  till  he  has  perused  Dialogue  X.  where  this 
point  is  more  circumstantially  considered. 

t  See  the  Epistle  to  Philemon. 


He  had  perfidiously  deserted  his  master's 
service,  and  still  more  perfidiously  stole  his 
goods.  The  fugitive,  in  his  guilty  rambles, 
providentially  meets  with  St.  Paul.  He 
is  charmed  and  captivated  with  that  gracious 
gospel,  which  proclaims  mercy  even  for  the 
vilest  of  sinners.  He  becomes  a  thorough 
convert  to  the  religion  of  Jesus,  and  is  re- 
ceived into  the  spiritual  patronage  of  the 
apostle  ;  who,  learning  his  dishonest  con- 
duct and  obnoxious  state,  undertakes  to 
bring  about  a  reconciliation  with  his  offend- 
ed master ;  dispatches  him,  for  this  pur- 
pose, with  a  letter  to  Philemon  ;  and, 
amongst  other  persuasives,  writes  thus  in 
the  poor  criminal's  behalf:  "  If  he  hath 
wronged  thee,  or  oweth  thee  ought,  put 
that  on  mine  account ;  I  Paul  have  written 
it  with  mine  own  hand  ;  I  will  repay  it." 
That  which  the  zealous  preacher  of  Chris- 
tianity offered,  the  adored  Author  of  Chris- 
tianity executed We  had  revolted  from 

the  Lord  of  all  lords,  and  broke  his  holy 
commandments.  The  Son  of  God,  infi- 
nitely compassionate,  vouchsafes  to  become 
our  Mediator.  That  nothing  might  be 
wanting  to  render  his  mediation  successful, 
he  places  himself  in  our  stead.  The  pun- 
ishment which  we  deserved,^  he  endures  : 
The  obedience  which  we  owed,  he  fulfils. 
— Both  which,  being  imputed  to  us,  and  ac- 
cepted for  us,  are  the  foundation  of  our 
pardon,  are  the  prociuing  cause  of  oiur  jus- 
tification. 

Ther.  Is  this  the  exact  signification  of 
the  original  word^  which  we  translate  im- 
puted ? 

Asp.  In  the  book  of  Numbers  we  meet 
with  this  phrase ;  and  in  such  a  connexion, 
as  clears  up  its  meaning.  Jehovah  enacts 
a  decree  concerning  the  Levites,  who  had 
no  vintages  to  gather,  nor  any  han'ests  to 
reap.  He  directs  them  to  present  the  tenth 
part  of  their  tithes,  in  the  form  of  a  heave- 
offering  ;  adding,  "  and  this  your  heave- 
offering"  shall  be  reckoned*  unto  you,  "  as 
though  it  were  the  com  of  the  threshing- 
floor,  and  as  the  fulness  of  the  wine-press  ;" 
as  satisfactory  to  me,  and  as  beneficial  to 
you,  as  if  it  was  the  tenth  of  your  own  la- 
boiu-s,  and  the  tithe  of  your  own  increase. 
So  the  expiatory  sufferings  which  Christ 
endiu-ed,  the  complete  obedience  wliich  he 
performed,  are  reckoned  to  true  believers  ; 
and  are  altogether  as  effectual  for  obtaining 
their  salvation,  as  if  they  were  their  own 
personal  qualifications. 

Ther.   The  imputation  mentioned  in  your 


*  Num.  xviii.  27.  ^t^J^J")  exactly  answers  to  St. 
Paul's -=A.(i^/<r<'»!,  Rom.  iv.  9.  The  same  phrase  is  used, 
and  the  same  doctrine  taught.  Lev.  xvii.  3,  4.  Thus 
also  saith  the  eternal  Judge  concerning  the  believers 
in  Christ ;  "  The  righteousness  of  my  Son  is  imput- 
ed to  them  :  they  are,  in  the  eye  of  my  justice,  right- 
eous; they  shall  be  dealt  with  as  righteous  persons, 
and  made  partakers  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


157 


passage,  is  the  imputation  of  sometbing 
done  by  the  Levitcs  themselves,  not  of  some- 
thing done  by  another.  This,  I  apprehend, 
is  the  true  import  of  the  word,  when  it  oc- 
curs affirmatively  in  Scripture. 

Asp.  This  is  always  the  import, — should 
Lave  been  said,  in  order  to  make  the  objection 
forcible.  But  you  could  not  so  soon  forget 
the  instance  just  now  alleged.  St.  Paul, 
speaking  of  the  crimes  whicli  Onesimiis 
had  committed,  and  of  the  injuries  which 
Philemon  had  snstained,  says,  "  Charge 
them  all  on  me ;  I  will  be  responsible  for 
the  one  and  for  the  other,  as  much  as  if  the 
whole  guilt  had  been  of  my  own  contract- 
ing."— Here  is  supposed,  not  the  imputation 
of  something  done  by  the  apostle  himself, 
but  of  another's  criminal  behaviour. 

Under  the  law,  Aaron  is  commanded  to 
"  put  the  iniquities  of  Israel  upon  the  scape- 
goat," Lev.  XV.  21.  —  The  same  sentiment 
is  reiiiculcated,  when  tlie  goat  is  said  to 
"  bear  the  ini(juities  of  the  poeple,"  Lev. 
xvi.  '22.  This  was  plainly  an  imputation, 
yet  could  not  possibly  be  the  imputation  of 
any  thing  done  by  the  devoted  animal. 
The  effects  which  took  place  upon  the  ex- 
ecution of  this  ordinance,  indicate  a  transla- 
tion of  guilt :  For  the  congregation  was 
fleansed,  but  the  goat  polluted.  The  con- 
gregation so  cleansed,  that  their  iniquities 
v.ure  conveyed  away,  and  to  be  found  no 
more  ;  the  goat  so  polluted,  that  it  com- 
nuniicated  defilement  to  the  person  who 
conducted  it  into  the  land  not  inhabited. 
All  this  was  God's  own  appointment,  and 
designed,  like  the  whole  system  of  Mosaic 
ceremonies,  to  instruct  his  church  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  great  IVIediator;  in  whose 
jjcrs m  and  office  that  was  done  really,  which 
elsewhere  could  be  accomphshed  no  other- 
wise than  typically. 

27icr.  If  this  is  your  meaning,  Aspasio, 
I  am  apt  to  think  it  will  be  a  difficult  matter 
to  make  me  a  proselyte.  I  must  be  content 
to  pass  for  one  of  the  stiff-necked  generation, 
since  I  can  see  neither  wisdom  nor  equity 
in  ascribing  to  a  person  what  he  has  not,  or 
imputing  to  him  what  he  does  not. 

Asp.  It  was  not  Aspasio,  but  his  friend, 
who  set  out  with  a  view  of  making  prose- 
lytes. If  I  can  maintain  my  ground,  and 
vindicate  my  own  belief,  it  will  be  no  in- 
considerable acquisition.  However,  I  shall 
not  despair  of  seeing  the  partner  of  my  heart 
become  a  sharer  of  my  faith.  When  we 
are  convinced  of  our  numberless  sins,  when 
we  feel  the  depravity  of  our  nature,  and  be- 
gin to  discern  the  inconceivable  sanctity  of 
our  Judge  ;  then,  perhaps,  this  exploded 
article  may  be  found  worthy  of  acceptance, 
its  constitution  admired  as  the  wisdom  of 
God,  and  its  ])rivilege  coveted  as  the  conso- 
lation of  our  souls. 

T/ter.     I  shall  wave  at  present  an  exa- 


mination of  each  particular,  and  only  make 
some  remote  observations,  which  seenr, 
nevertheless,  pretty  nearly  to  affect  your 
scheme.  Some  persons,  I  dare  be  positive, 
have  not  so  much  as  heard  of  your  terms  ; 
many  persons  have  no  marnier  of  acquaint- 
ance with  your  doctrine :  Will  you  strike 
off  all  these  from  the  list  of  Christians  ?  will 
you  condemn  all  these  as  desperate  infidels  ? 

Asp.  Not  heard  of  them  !  in  a  Protestant 
nation  !  where  the  gospel  is  publicly  preach- 
ed, and  the  Eible  in  every  one's  hand  !  This, 
if  true,  is  nnich  to  be  lamented. 

In  answer  to  your  question  : — It  is  not 
my  custom,  much  less  is  it  my  prerogative, 
to  condemn  others.  Has  God  committed 
all  judgment  unto  me,  that  I  should  presume 
to  anticij)ate  the  decisive  sentence,  or  launch, 
the  thunderbolts  of  eternal  vengeance  ?  Nei- 
ther do  I  affirm  the  condition  of  such  per- 
sons to  be  desperate.  There  may  be  those 
who  have  no  explicit  knowledge  of  the  doc- 
trine, who  are  even  prejudiced  against  the 
expressions,  yet  live  under  the  belief  of  the 
truth,  and  in  the  exercise  of  the  duty.  "  They 
are  never  diverted,  by  the  splendour  of  any 
thing  that  is  great,  or  by  the  conceit  of  any 
thing  that  is  good  in  them,  from  looking 
upon  themselves  as  sinful  dust  and  ashes." 
Their  whole  dependence  is  upon  that  just 
One,  who  expired  on  the  cross,  and  whom 
the  heavens  have  received.  They  seek  the 
sanctifying  Spirit,  in  consequence  of  their 
Saviour's  death,  and  give  all  diligence  to 
"  add  to  their  faith  virtue,"  (2  Pet.  i.  3.) 

Ther.  If  people  may  be  safe,  and  their 
eternal  interests  secure,  without  any  know- 
ledge of  these  particularities,  why  should 
you  offer  to  puzzle  their  heads  about  a  few 
unnecessary  scholastic  terms  ? 

Asp.  Scriptural  terms  you  should  have 
said,  Theron.  However,  we  are  not  very 
solicitous  as  to  the  credit,  or  the  use,  of  any 
particular  set  of  phrases.  Only  let  men  be 
humbled  as  repenting  criminals,  at  the  Re- 
deemer's feet ;  let  them  rely,  as  devoted  pen- 
sioners, on  his  precious  merits  ;  and  they  are 
undoubtedly  in  the  way  to  a  blissful  immor- 
tality. Yet  will  their  way  be  less  clear,  and 
their  steps  more  embarrassed,  by  not  distinctly 
understandingthebenigngeniusof  the  gospel. 
A  proper  information  in  this  important  point 
would  shed  light  upon  their  paths,  and  en- 
courage them  in  their  journey ;  would  fur- 
ther their  progress  in  vital  holiness,  and  in- 
crease their  joy  in  the  Lord. 

Ther.  The  followers  of  your  opinion,  1 
have  observed,  ate  perpetually  dwelling  up- 
on this  one  favourite  topic,  to  the  exclusion 
of  that  grand  and  truly  essential  piu't  of 
Christianity— sanctification. 

Asp.  If  you  have  ever  taken  notice  of 
such  a  conduct,  yon  are  unquestionably  right 
in  withholding  your  approbation.  It  is  a 
manifest  incongruity,  and  deserves  your  cen. 


IGO 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


sure.  But,  assure  yourself,  it  proceeds  from 
a  misappreliension  iti  the  persons,  and  has 
no  connexion  with  the  nature  of  the  doc- 
trine. 

I  am  far,  very  far,  from  reducing  the  va- 
rious parts  of  Christianity  (which  when 
connected  make  up  so  well-proportioned  a 
system)  to  this  single,  however,  distinguish- 
ed branch.  Sanctitication  is  equally  neces- 
sary, both  to  our  present  peace  and  to  our 
final  felicity.  Indeed  theyare  as  reciprocally 
necessary  for  the  purposes  of  intellectual 
and  eternal  happiness,  as  the  heart  and  the 
lungs  are  to  the  subsistence  of  the  animal 
economy.  The  former  must  transmit,  the 
latter  must  refine,  the  vital  fluid ;  or  else 
disease  will  take  place,  and  death  will  en- 
sue. My  intention  is,  that  those  funda- 
mental truths  of  the  gospel,  like  these  mas- 
ter organs  of  the  body,  may  have  each  its 
proper  office  assigned  ;  each  concur  to  sup- 
port the  better  health,  and  to  promote  the 
spiritual  growth,  of  the  Christian. 

Ther.  Other  of  your  zealous  folks  I  have 
known,  who  are  all  for  the  sanctifying 
influence  of  the  Spirit,  and  reckon  this 
affiance  on  the  Saviour's  merits  among  the 
beggarly  elements  of  religion.  They  scarce 
ever  mention  what  Christ  has  done  for  us, 
but  insist  wholly  upon  what  he  does  in  us. 
When  the  religious  people  are  so  divided 
among  themselves,*  how  can  a  stranger  act  ? 
which  opinion  shall  he  choose  ? 

Asp.  Wliich,  Theron  !  Let  him  discard 
neither,  but  associate  both.  If  the  all-gra- 
cious Redeemer  has  poured  out  his  blood  on 
the  cross,  that  my  guilt  may  be  expiated  ; 
and  presents  his  intercession  in  heaven,  that 
I  may  be  endued  with  the  Spirit ;  if  he  will 
be  the  meritorious  cause  of  my  justification, 
and  the  operative  principle  of  my  sanctifica- 
tion,  why  should  I  scruple  to  receive  him, 
in  either,  in  both  capacities  !  Who  would 
lop  ofi"  the  right  hand,  in  order  to  impart  the 
higher  dignity,  or  the  greater  importance  to 
the  left  ?  I  would  be  no  partialist  in  Clu"is- 
tianity ;  neither  diminish  her  dowry,  nor 
mutilate  her  privileges. 

Ther.  You  seem,  if  not  to  mutilate,  yet 
to  split  the  merits  of  Christ,  and  parcel  out 
the  efficacy  of  his  mediatorial  undertaking  ; 
ascribing  so  much  to  his  active,  and  so 
much  to  his  passive  righteousness  ;  pardon 
to  tliis,  and  life  to  that. 

Asp.   Some,   perhaps,   may  be  pleased 


•  Theron's  inquiry  concerning  these  two  particu- 
lars is  sometimes  made  an  objection  against  all  reli- 
gion. But  have  those  who  adopt  this  objection  never 
seen  naturalists  divided  in  their  judgment,  with  rela- 
tion to  the  design  and  use  of  several  appearances  in 
the  material,  the  vegetable,  the  animal  creation, 
while  one  decries  as  a  nuisance  what  another  admires 
as  a  beautv  ?  \  et  no  one,  I  believe,  ever  took  it  into 
his  head,  from  such  a  diversity  of  opinions,  to  doubt 
whether  the  frame  of  nature  is  a  just,  a  regular,  and 
a  finished  system  ;  or  to  deny,  that  power,  goodness, 
and  wisdom,  support,  pervade,  and  direct  the  whole. 


with  this  way  of  stating  the  matter.  But 
it  is  a  method  which  I  neither  attempt  to 
defend,  nor  wish  to  imitate.  To  di.stin- 
guish  betvveen  the  active  and  passive  right- 
eousness, I  think  is  not  amiss  ;  because  this 
sets  the  fulness  of  oiu-  Lord's  merit  in  the 
clearest  light,  and  gives  the  completest 
honom-  to  God's  holy  law.  But  to  di\'ide 
them  into  detached  portions,  independent 
on  each  other,  seems  to  be  fanciful,  rather 
than  judicious.  For,  had  either  part  of  tlie 
mediatorial  obedience  been  wanting,  I  ap- 
prehend neither  pardon,  nor  acceptance,  nor 
any  spiritual  blessing,  could  have  been 
vouchsafed  to  fallen  man. 

The  two  parts  are  inseparable  ;  making, 
in  their  connexion,  a  necessary  and  noble 
whole  for  the  accomplishment  of  oiu'  salva- 
tion ;  just  as  the  light  and  the  heat  of  yonder 
sun  blend  their  operation,  to  produce  this 
delightful  day,  and  this  fruitful  weather. 
However,  therefore,  I  may  happen  to  ex- 
press myself,  I  never  consider  them  as  act- 
ing in  the  exclusive  sense  ;  but  would  al- 
ways have  them  understood  as  a  grand  and 
glorious  aggregate  ;  looking  upon  our  Savi- 
our's univer.5al  obedience,  which  commenced 
at  his  incarnation,  was  carried  on  through 
his  life,  and  terminated  in  his  death — look- 
ing upon  all  this,  in  its  collective  form,  as 
the  object  of  my  faith,  and  the  foundation 
of  my  hopes. " 

Ther.  I  think,  yon  ley  too  much  stress 
upon  this  controverted,  and  perhaps  merely 
specidative  point. 

Aap.  JMerely  speculative  !  Say  not  thus, 
my  dear  friend.  "  How  I  may  be  justified 
before  God,  my  Maker,  my  Governor,  and 
my  Judge,"  is  an  inquiry,  of  all  others,  the 
most  interesting  and  important.  It  is  the 
main  hinge  on  which  every  instance  of 
practical  religion  turns.  True  comfort, 
willing  obedience,  holy  communion  with  the 
divine  Majesty,  all  depend  upon  this  capital 
point. 

Far  from  being  a  merely  speculative 
point,  it  ascribes  the  most  undivided  glory 
to  the  ever-blessed  God  and  his  free  grace : 
It  administers  the  most  serene  and  substan- 
tial satisfactions  to  frail,  but  believing  men. 
It  cherishes,  with  the  most  kindly  influ- 
ence, that  pure  and  undefiled  religion,  which 
has  its  seat  in  the  heart,  has  its  birth  from 
love,  and  is  a  real  antepast,  both  of  the  busi- 


•  In  this  opinion  Aspasio  has  Milton's  archangel 
for  his  precedent,  Michael,  speaking  of  his  Lord  and 
our  Lord,  says. 

The  law  of  God  exact  he  shall  fulfil 
Both  by  obedience  and  by  love :  though  love 
Alone  fulfil  the  law  :  thy  punishment 
He  shall  endure,  by  coming  in  the  flesh 
To  a  reproachful  life  and  cursed  death  ; 
Proclaiming  life  to  all  who  shall  believe 
In  his  redemption. —  B.  xii.  I.  402. 
According  to  the  tenor  of  these  very  valuable  lines, 
our  Lord's  fulfilling  the  law,  and  enduring  the  punish- 
ment, are  the  concurring  causes,  or  the  one  com- 
poinid  cause  of  life  and  redemption  to  sinners. 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


161 


noss  and  the  bliss  of  saints  in  light.  Can 
\v(i,  then,  lay  too  much  stress  upon  a  doc- 
trine so  greatly  momentous,  upon  a  privilege 
so  extensively  beneficial? 

Ther.  When  all  this  is  prored,  then  for 
my  reply,  Aspasio.  Nay,  then  you  shall 
have  more  than  a  reply  ;  I  promise  you  my 
cordial  assent. 

Asp.  And  if  all  this  be  incapable  of 
))roof,  I  a-ssure  you,  Theron,  I  will  not  so- 
licit yoiu-  assent.  Nay  more,  I  will  revoke 
and  renounce  my  own. 

Thcr.  At  present,  I  believe,  we  must  go 
in,  and  prepare  for  om*  visitants.  Some 
other  interview  will  give  us  an  opportunity 
to  canvass  this  question  more  mimitely. 

Asp.  Though  I  have  never  much  inclin- 
ation, even  when  there  is  the  most  leisure, 
for  controversy,  yet,  if  you  insist  upon  it,  I 
shall  not  absolutely  refuse  to  engage  in  a 
debate  with  my  Theron,  because  he  \\i\\ 
come  to  the  amicable  rencoimter,  without 
bringing  angry  passions  for  his  second.  i\ly 
reasons  wHl  be  impartially  weighed,  not  art- 
fully eluded,  much  less  answered  with  in- 
vective. If  some  inadvertent  expression 
should  drop  from  my  lips,  he  will  not  rigor- 
ously prosecute  the  slip  ;  nor  aggravate  an 
unguarded  sentence  into  the  crime  of  heresy. 
( landour  will  form  his  judgment,  and  good 
nature  dictate  his  expressions. 

77it'r.  I  thank  you,  my  dear  Aspasio,  for 
your  genteel  admonition.  What  I  am  in 
the  language  of  complaisance,  means  what 
1  sriould  be.  Well ;  I  shall  endeavour  to 
take  your  hint,  and  check  this  -my  impetu- 
osity of  spirit.  I  have  admired,  O  tliat  I 
could  imitate !  the  beautiful  example  of  St. 
Paid.  When  Festus,  forgetting  the  dignity 
of  the  governor,  and  the  politeness  of  the 
gentleman,  uttered  that  indecent  reflection, 
"  Paul,  thou  art  beside  thyself ;  much  learn- 
ing doth  make  thee  mad  ;"  did  the  great 
preacher  of  Christianity  kindle  into  resent- 
ment? The  charge  was  unjust  and  abusive. 
But  the  apostle,  with  the  most  perfect  com- 
mand of  himself,  retmiied  the  softest,  yet 
the  most  spirited  answer  imaginable.  "  I 
am  not  mad,  most  noble  Festus  ;  but  speak 
the  words  of  truth  and  soberness."*  Inex- 
pressibly graceful  was  this  calm  and  obliging 
reply.  Though  short,  intinitely  more  con- 
vincing than  a  whole  torrent  of  bitter  or 
recriminating  words.  It  disarmed  the  judge 
of  his  rising  displeasure  ;  it  conciliated  the 


*  .Sec  Acts  xxvi.  24, 2.">.  where  wehavean  apolopy, 
the  most  delicate,  and  most  masterly,  perhaps,  that 
ever  was  made;  eminentfor  line  address,  clear  reason- 
ing, and  important  truth.  Which,  notwithstand- 
ing all  these  very  superior  recommendations,  is  deem- 
ed madness;  and  that  by  a  nobleman  from  Home; 
the  seat  of  science,  and  foimtain-heiid  of  polite  litera- 
ture. A  proof  this,  no  less  demonstrative  llian  de- 
plorable, of  the  apostles  asscition  :  The  natural  man, 
however  ingenious  or  accomplished,  "  receivcth  not 
llie  things  of  the  spirit  of  Cod  ;  fur  they  are  foolish- 
in-.s  unto  him."     1  Cor.  ii     14. 


favour  of  his  royal  assessor :  and  brought 
honour  to  the  Christian  cause. 

This  amiable  self-regimen,  and  modera- 
tion of  temper,  I  shall  be  sure  to  see  exem- 
plified in  my  friend's  conversation,  however 
I  may  fail  of  it  myself,  or  be  proof  against 
all  his  arguments. 

Asp.  Ah  !  Theron,  we  want  no  monitor 
to  remind  us  of  our  supposed  excellencies. 
And  if  you  begin  with  your  compliments,  it 
is  time  to  put  an  end  to  our  discourse. 

Only  let  me  just  observe,  that  divine- 
truths  cannot  be  jjrojjerly  discerned  but  by 
the  enlightening  intluences  of  the  divine 
Spirit.  We  must  address  ourselves  to  this 
inquiry  not  only  with  unprejudiced  minds, 
but  likewise  with  praying  hearts.  We  must 
bring  to  this  dispute,  not  barely  the  quiver 
of  logic,  but  tliat  "  unction  from  the  Holy 
One  which  may  teach  us  all  things,"  (1 
John  ii.  20,27.)  Let  us  then  adopt  the 
])oet's  aspiration  : 


-Thou  celestial  Light, 


Shine  inward,  and  the  mind  through  all  her  powers 
Irradiate ;  there  plant  eyes ;  all  mist  from  thence 
Purge  and  disperse  !  Milton,  B.  iii.  1.  51. 


DIALOGUE  III. 

T/icr.  We  are  now,  Aspasio,  about  two 
miles  distant  from  my  house.  The  horse- 
road  lies  through  a  narrow,  dusty  lane.  The 
foot-]K'.th  leads  along  a  spacious  pleasant 
meadow.  Suppose  we  deliver  our  liorses 
to  tile  servant,  and  walk  the  remainder  of 
the  way  ? 

Asp.  You  could  not  make  a  jiroposal 
more  agreeable  to  my  inclination ;  espe- 
cially as  the  air  is  become  cool,  and  the 
walk  is  so  in\-iting. 

What  a  magnificent  and  charming  scene  ! 
hills  on  either  side,  gently  rising,  and  widely 
spreading  ;  their  summits  crowned  with 
scattered  villages,  and  clustering  trees  : 
their  slops  divided  into  a  beauteous  chequer- 
work  ;  consisting  partly  of  tillage,  with  its 
waving  crops,  partly  of  pasturage,  with  its 
grazing  herds.  Before  us,  the  trefoil,  the 
clover,  and  a  variety  of  grassy  plants,  differ- 
ently bladed,  and  differently  branched,  weave 
themselves  into  a  carpet  of  living  green.  Can 
any  of  the  maimf'actiires  formed  in  the 
looms,  or  exteiuled  in  tlie  palaces  of  Persia, 
vie  with  the  covering  of  this  ample  area  ? 
vie  with  it,  in  grandeur  of  size,  or  delicacy 
of  decoration  ? 

What  a  profusion  of  the  gayest  flowers, 
fringing  the  banks,  and  embroidering  the 
plain ! 


-Nature  here 


Wantons,  as  in  her  prime,  and  plays  at  will 
Her  virgin  fancies,  ))ouring  forth  more  sweet, 
Wild  above  rule  or  art,  enormous  bliss  ! 

.MUtuit,  a.  T 


1(}2 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Nothing  can  be  brighter  than  the  histre 
of  those  silver  daisies,  nothing  deeper  than 
4^he  tinge  of  those  golden  crowfoots ;  yet 
both  seem  to  acquire  additional  beauty,  by 
succeeding  to  the  defoimity  of  winter,  and 
flourishing  amidst  so  much  surrounding 
verdure. 

Ther.  Nature  is  truly  in  her  prime.  The 
vegetable  tribes  are  putting  on  their  richest 
attire.  Those  chesnuts,  on  our  right  hand, 
begin  to  rear  their  flowering  pyramids  ;  those 
willows,  on  our  left,  are  tipt  with  tassels 
of  grey ;  and  yonder  poplars,  which  over- 
look the  river,  and  seem  to  command  the 
meadows,  are  pointed  with  rolls  of  sUver. 

The  hawthorn,  in  every  hedge,  is  partly 
turged  with  silken  gems,  partly  dissolved 
into  a  milk-white  bloom  :  Not  a  straggling 
furze,  nor  a  solitary  thicket,  but  wears  a 
rural  nosegay.  All  is  a  delightful  display 
of  present  fertility,  and  a  joyous  pledge  of 
future  plenty.  Now  we  experience  what 
the  royal  poet,  in  very  delicate  imagery,  de- 
scribes :  "  The  winter  is  past ;  the  rain  is 
over  and  gone.  The  flowei-s  appear  on  the 
earth ;  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is 
come ;  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard 
in  our  land.  The  fig-tree  putteth  forth  her 
green  figs  ;  and  the  vine,  with  the  tender 
grapes,  give  a  good  smell;"  (Cant.  ii.  11, 
12,  13.) 

Asp.  Your  quotation  and  the  scene  re- 
mind me  of  a  remark,  which  should  have 
taken  place  in  our  last  night's  discourse. 
When  we  were  enumerating  the  excellencies 
of  the  sacred  writings,  methinks  we  might 
have  added, — Are  you  fond  of  pastoral,  in 
all  its  flowery  graces,  and  blooming  honours  ? 
Never  have  we  seen  such  exquisite  touches 
of  rural  painting,  or  such  sweet  images  of 
endeared  aflfection,  as  in  the  "  Song  of  songs, 
which  is  Solomon's."  AU  the  brilliant  and 
amiable  appearances  in  nature  are  employed, 
to  delineate  the  tenderness  of  his  heart,  who 
is  love  itself;  to  portray  the  beauty  of  his 
person,  who  is  the  chiefest  among  ten 
thousand  ;  and  describe  the  happiness  of 
those  souls,  whose  "  fellowship  is  with  the 
Father,  and  with  his  Son  Jesus  Christ ;" 
(1  John  i.  3.) 

See,  Theron,  what  the  cheering  warmth 
and  the  genial  showers  of  spring  have  done  ! 
Such  a  change,  so  pleasing  and  so  ennobling, 
the  gospel  of  Christ  introduces  into  the  soul. 
Not  a  day,  scarce  an  hour  passes,  but  this 
season  of  universal  fecundity  produces  some- 
thing new.  And  is  there  any  state,  or  any 
circumstance  of  life,  on  which  the  faith  of 
Christ  does  not  exert  a  similar  efficacy,  and 
bring  forth  fruit  imto  God  ? 

This  is  supposed  to  be  the  spiritual 
meaning  of  that  fine  descriptive  picture 
which  you  have  borrowed  from  the  Canti- 
cles. It  displays  the  benign  agency  of  grace 
and  its  doctrines,  especially  of  our  Lord's 


satisfaction  for  sin,  and  of  his  righteousne.<;9 
imputed  to  sinners.  These  operate  with 
much  the  samefavoiu-able  and  happy  energy, 
both  on  oiu:  morals  and  our  comforts,  as  the 
sweet  influences  of  the  venial  sun  operate 
on  the  sprouting  herbs  and  opening  flowers. 

Ther.  If  such  were  the  effects  of  your 
doctrine,  it  would  stand  the  fairer  chance 
for  general  acceptation.  But  there  are 
several  weighty  scruples  to  be  removed, 
before  persons  of  a  liberal  and  enlarged  way 
of  thinking  can  acquiesce  in  yoiu:  opinion. 
Who,  for  instance,  can  persuade  himself, 
that  what  you  call  the  satisfaction  of  Christ 
is  consistent  wth  the  dictates  of  reason,  or 
with  the  perfections  of  the  Deity  ? 

Asp.  Let  gentlemen  be  candid  in  their 
inquiries,  and  truly  liberal  in  their  way  of 
thinking ;  then,  I  flatter  myself,  these  scru- 
ples maybe  removed  without  much  difficulty. 

God,  the  almighty  Creator  and  supreme 
Governor  of  the  world,  having  made  man, 
gave  him  a  law,  with  a  penalty  annexed  in 
case  of  disobedience.  This  sacred  law  our 
forefather  Adam  presumptuously  broke ; 
and  we,  his  posterity,  were  involved  in  his 
guilt.  Or,  should  that  point  be  controvert- 
ed, we  have  undeniably  made,  by  many  per- 
sonal transgressions,  his  apostacy  our  own ; 
insomuch  that  all  have  sinned,  have  forfeited 
their  happiness,  and  rendered  themselves 
obnoxious  to  punishment. 

Man  being  thus  ruined,  none  could  recov- 
er him,  except  his  injured  Maker.  But 
shall  he  be  recovered,  shall  he  be  restored, 
without  suffiering  the  punishment  due  to  his 
crime,  and  threatened  by  his  Creator  ?  What 
then  will  become  of  the  justice  of  the  divine 
Lawgiver  ?  and  how  sliall  the  honour  of  his 
holy  law  be  maintained  ?  At  this  rate,  who 
would  reverence  its  authority,  or  fear  to 
violate  its  precepts  ? 

Sinners  might  be  emboldened  to  multiply 
their  transgressions,  and  tempted  to  think, 
that  the  God  of  immaculate  holiness,  the 
God  of  unchangeable  veracity,  is  "alto- 
gether such  an  one  as  themselves."* 

Does  it  not  appear  needful,  that  some  ex- 
pedient be  devised,  in  order  to  prevent  these 
dishonourable  and  horrid  consequences  ? 

Tlier.  Proceed  to  inform  us  what  the 
expedient  is. 

Asp.  To  ascertain  the  dignity  of  the  su- 
preme administration,  yet  rescue  mankind 
from  utter  destruction,  this  admirable  pur- 
pose was  formed,  and  in  the  fulness  of 
time  executed.  The  second  person  of  the 
ever-blessed  Trinity  unites  the  human  na- 
ture to  the  divine,   submits  himself  to  the 


»  This  was  actually  the  case,  as  we  are  informed 
by  the  Searcher  of  hearts,  when,  on  a  particular  oc- 
casion, punishment  was  only  retarded.  How  much 
more  would  such  impious  opinions  have  prevailed 
if  on  this  grand  act  of  disobedience,  punishment  had 
been  entirely  forborne  ?  Psal.  1.  21. 


DIALOGUE  III. 


163 


obligations  of  his  people,  and  becomes  re- 
sponsible for  all  their  guilt.  In  this  capacity 
be  performs  a  perfect  obedience,  and  under- 
goes the  sentence  of  death  ;  makes  a  full 
expiation  of  their  sins,  and  establishes  their 
title  to  life.  I3y  which  means  the  law  is 
satisfied,  justice  is  magnified,  and  the  richest 
grace  exercised.  Man  enjoys  a  great  salva- 
tion, not  to  the  discredit  of  any,  but  to  the 
unspeakable  glory  of  all,  the  divine  attri- 
butes. 

This  is  what  we  mean  by  Christ's  sa- 
tisfaction. And  this,  I  should  imagine, 
wants  no  recommendation  to  our  unpreju- 
diced reason ;  as  I  am  sure  it  is  most  de- 
lightfully accommodated  to  our  distressed 
condition.  It  is  also  confirmed  by  many 
express  passages  of  Scripture,  and  illustrated 
by  a  variety  of  very  significant  images. 

Ther.  Pray,  let  me  be  favoured  with  some 
of  your  scriptural  images.  After  which  we 
may  inquire,  whether  your  doctrine  will 
stand  the  test  of  reason. 

Asp.  What  is  your  notion  of  a  ransom  ? 
When  Priam  redeemed  the  dead  body  of 
Hector  from  the  victorious  Achilles,  how 
was  it  done? 

Ther.  By  paying  a  price.  Thus  Fabius 
recovered  the  captives  which  were  taken  by 
Hatmibal.  He  transmitted  the  sum  requir- 
ed, and  they  were  discharged  from  their 
confinement. 

Asp.  Such  is  the  redemption  procured 
for  sinners  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Of 
such  a  nature,  (though  incomparably  more 
grand  and  august  in  all  its  circumstances,) 
and  expressed  by  the  very  same  word, 
"  Tiie  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister  ;  and  to  give  his  life 
a  ransom  for  many." 

Christ  also  paid  a  price,  a  real  price,  a 
most  satisfactory  price ;  in  consideration 
of  which,  our  freedom  from  every  penal 
evil  is  granted.  "  Ye  are  redeemed,""  says 
the  apostle,  "  not  with  corruptible  things,  as 
silver  and  gold,  but  with  the  precious  blood 
of  (Christ."  Let  me  add  one  text  more, 
which,  in  the  same  style  of  commutative 
justice,  asserts  the  same  truth  :  "  Christ 
has  redeemed  us,"f  hath  bought  us  ofl^,  "  from 
tlie  curse  of  the  law,"  (Gal.  iii.  13.)  Yes, 
my  friend, 

The  ransom  was  paid  down.    The  fund  of  heav'n, 
Hcav'n's  inexhaustible  exhausted  fund. 
Amazing  and  aniaz'd,  pour'd  forth  the  price. 
All  price  beyond.     Though  curious  to  compute. 
Archangels  hiil'd  to  cast  tlie  mighty  sum. 

ISii^'hiThtnights,  No.  IV. 


*  I  Pet.  i.  10.  We  have  an  equivalent  expression, 
used  in  the  same  signification,  by  one  of  the  cor- 
rertest  writers  in  tlie  world, 

Ft  fratrem  Polhix  alitina  mortc  redemit. — Virg. 

ffial.  iii.  13.— We  arc  said  lo  be  bought,  1  Cor.  vi. 
211.  not  in  a  meta))horical  sense,  but  really  and  i)ro- 
ivrly,  for  here  the  price  is  mentioned,  and  by  St. 
»\icr  the  price  is  specilied.  I  IVt.  i.  l.'f,  ly. 


Tfier.  Holdalittle,  good  Aspasio.  Con- 
sider the  consequence  of  what  you  maintain. 
If  there  was  a  ransom  in  the  case,  to  whom 
was  it  paid  ?  The  de\nl  had  led  sinners  cap- 
tive. They  are  said  to  be  the  slaves  of 
Satan.  And  shall  the  blessed  Jesus  pay 
his  life  to  that  accursed  fiend  ?  Shocking  to 
imagine  !  Yet,  shocking  as  it  is,  it  must 
follow  from  your  own  and  your  poet's  asser- 
tion. 

Asp.  You  misapprehend  the  case,  Theron. 
The  ransom  was  paid  to  God.  "  Thou 
hast  redeemed  us  to  God,"  (Rev.  v.  9.)  is 
the  confession  of  the  saints  in  light.  Sa- 
tisfaction was  made  to  the  divine  law,  and 
to  the  divine  justice  ;  the  one  of  which  was 
offended,  the  other  violated,  and  both  con- 
curred to  denounce  the  transgressor's  doom  ; 
of  which  doom  Satan  was  only  the  destined 
executioner,  whose  malignity,  and  implaca- 
ble rage,  God  is  pleased  to  make  the  instru- 
ment of  inrticting  his  vengeance,  as  he  for- 
merly used  the  idolatrous  kings  of  Assyria 
and  Babylon  to  chastise  the  disobedient  Is- 
raelites. 

"  WTien  we  were  without  strength," 
(Rom.  V.  6.)  utterly  ruined,  yet  absolutely 
helpless  ;  when  none,  in  heaven  or  earth, 
could  afford  us  any  succour ;  then  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  most  graciously  and  most  sea- 
sonably inteqjosed.  He  said,  as  it  is  veiy 
emphatically  I'eprescnted  by  Elihu,  "  De- 
liver them  from  going  doMTi  into  the  pit ;  I 
have  found  a  ransom,"  (Job.  xxxiii.  24.) 
He  did  what  is  very  beautifully  described 
by  our  English  classic  : 

-Si  man,  as  is  most  just, 


Shall  satisfy  for  man,  be  judged  and  die ; 
And  dying  rise,  and  rising  with  him  raise 
His  brethren,  ransom'd  with  his  own  dear  life. 


Ther.  But  pray,  do  not  you  allow  that 
Christ  is  truly  and  properly  God  ? 

Asp.  We  not  only  allow  it,  bnt  we  insist 
upon  it,  and  make  our  boast  of  it.  This  is 
the  very  foundation  of  his  merit,  and  the 
support  of  our  hope. 

Ther.  1  his  may  aggrandize  the  merit  of 
Christ,  but  it  will  increase  the  difficulty  of 
your  task.  For,  according  to  this  oi)inion, 
Christ  must  make  satisfaction  to  himself. 
And  is  not  this  a  practice  quite  unprece- 
dented ?  a  notion  perfectly  absin-d  ? 

Asp.  It  is  quite  unprecedeiit(-d,  you  say. 
On  this  point  I  shall  not  vchcnu'iitly  con- 
tend. Only  let  me  mention  one  instance. 
Zaleucus,  you  know,  the  ])rince  of  the  Lo- 
crians,  made  a  decree,  that  whoever  was 
convicted  of  adultery,  should  be  punished 
with  the  loss  of  liotli  his  eyes.  Soon  after 
this  estahlislimcnt,  the  legislator's  own  sou 
was  a])prelieiidcd  in  the  very  fact,  ;iiid 
brought  to  a  i)ul)lic  trial.  How  could  the 
father  acquit  himself  in  so  tciidir  and  deli- 
cate a  coiijuncliire  ?   Should  he  cxiMiite  the 


164 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


l;iw  in  all  its  rigour,  this  would  be  worse 
than  deatli  to  the  unhappy  youth  :  Shonhl 
he  pHrdoii  so  notorious  a  delinquent,  tliis 
would  defeat  the  design  of  liis  salutary  in- 
stitution. To  avoid  both  these  inconvenien- 
ces, he  ordered  one  of  his  own  eyes  to  be 
pulled  out,  and  ojie  of  his  son's,  by  which 
means  the  rights  of  justice  were  preserved 
inviolate,  yet  the  tenderness  of  a  parent 
was  remarkably  indulged  :  And  may  we 
not  venture  to  say,  that  in  this  case,  Za- 
leucus  both  received  and  made  the  satisfac- 
tion ?  received  it  as  a  magistrate,  even 
while  he  made  it  as  a  father? 

TheT.  I  cannot  see,  how  this  suffering  of 
the  father  was  in  any  degree  satisfactory  to 
the  law,  since  the  father  and  the  son  could 
not  be  considered  as  one  and  the  same  per- 
son. It  may  pass  for  an  extraordinary  in- 
stance of  parental  indulgence  ;  it  may  strike 
the  benevolent  and  compassionate  hearer : 
but,  if  tried  at  the  bar  of  equity  and  reason, 
it  will  hardly  be  admitted  as  any  legal  sa- 
tisfaction, it  will  probably  be  condemned, 
as  a  breach  of  nature's  first  and  fundamen- 
tal law,  self-preser\'ation. 

Asp.  What  you  observe,  Theron,  I  must 
confess  has  weight.  It  will  oblige  me  to 
give  up  my  illustration.  Nevertheless, 
what  you  urge  against  the  propriety  of  the 
comparison,  tends  to  establish  the  certainty 
of  the  doctrine.  For  Christ  and  his  peo- 
ple are  actually  considered  as  one  and  the 
same  person.  They  are  one  mystical  body ; 
he  the  head,  they  the  members;  so  inti- 
mately united  to  him,  that  they  are  "  bone  of 
his  bone,  and  flesh  of  his  flesh,"  (Eph.  v. 
30  ;  Col.  i.  20.)  by  virtue  of  which  union, 
their  sins  were  pimished  in  him,  "  and  by 
his  stripes  they  are  healed,"  (Isa.  Uii.  3,) 
they  obtain  impunity  and  life. 

Though  there  may  be  nothing  in  the  pro- 
cedure of  men  which  bears  any  resemblance 
to  this  miracle  of  heavenly  goodness,  it  re- 
ceives a  sufficient  confirmation  from  the 
language  of  Scripture.  He  who  wrote  as 
an  amanuensis  to  the  unerring  Spirit  has 
declared,  that  "  God  was  in  Christ  recon- 
ciling the  world," — unto  whom  ?  imto  some 
third  party  ?  No  ;  but  reconciling  it  by  the 
death  and  obedience  of  Christ,  "  unto  him- 
self," (2  Cor.  v.  19.)  And  I  can  very 
readily  grant  that  this  divine  exertion  of 
benignity  and  wisdom  should  be  without  a 
precedent,  and  without  a  parallel.* 

Difficulties,  I  own,  may  attend  the  expli- 
cation of  this  article,  or  be  interwoven  with 
its  consequences.  At  the  same  time  I 
nmst  aflirm,  that  our  apprehensions  of  hea- 
venly things  are  so  obscure,  and  our  ideas 


of  the  divine  benevolence  so  sc.Tnty,  that  W« 
may  very  possibly  mistake,  and  fancy  that 
to  be  absurd,  which  is  only  great,  wonder- 
ful, and  incomprehensible.* — Nor  shall  I  be 
thought  presumptuous  in  adding,  that  it  \\'ill 
be  impossible  for  all  the  sagacity  in  the 
world  to  prove  this  doctrine  an  absurdity, 
though  it  should  ever  remain  an  inexplica- 
ble mystery.  How  many  phenomena  in 
the  constitution  of  external  nature,  ai'e  con- 
fessedly mysterious  and  inexplicable  !  They 
challenge,  they  command  our  assent  ;  yet 
baflle  all  our  researches,  and  defy  om*  ut- 
most j>eiietration.  If,  then,  we  find  this 
truth  fully  and  incontestibly  revealed  in  the 
Bible,  we  must  renounce  the  pliilosopher 
before  we  can  consistently  act  the  sceptic. 

Titer.  Let  us  see,  then,  whether  it  be  so 
fidly  and  incontestibly  revealed  in  the  Bi- 
ble. You  have  given  me,  as  yet,  but  one 
of  your  scriptural  images. 

Asp.  I  have  another  at  your  service. 
Christ  is  called  an  High  Priest.  What  do 
you  take  to  be  the  nature  of  the  priestly 
office? 

Ther.  The  business  of  the  priest  was,  I 
apprehend,  to  offer  sacrifices,  and  to  make 
intercession  for  the  people. 

Asp.  Very  true  ;  and  Christ  could  not, 
with  any  propriety,  receive  this  appellation, 
if  he  had  been  defective  in  performing  either 
of  the  sacerdotal  functions.  Now,  that  he 
offered  no  such  victim  as  slain  beasts,  is  uni- 
versally acknowledged.  We  might  presume 
therefore,  even  though  we  had  not  the  au- 
thority of  an  apostle  to  assure  us,  that  "  he 
offered  himself  through  the  eternal  spirit 
to  God,"  (Heb.  ix.  14.) 

The  cross,  shall  I  say  ?  t  rather  his  divine 
nature,  was  the  altar ;  his  soul  and  body, 
each  immaculately  piure,  were  the  holocaust. 


•  Fancy,  in  the  person  of  Horace,  said  of  Jupiter 
and  his  fdbulous  exploits, 

"  Cui  nihil  viget  simile  aut  secundum." 
Much  more  will  reason,  in  the  character  of  a  Ijeliever, 
say  the  same  oi' Jehovah  and  his  marvellous  grace. 


*  Its  unparalleled,  nay,  its  incomprehensiblenature, 
is  no  objection  to  its  truth  and  reality.  This  is  ra- 
ther a  circumstance  which  perfectly  agrees  with  the 
testimony  of  the  inspired  writers,  and  affords,  in  my 
opinion,  an  imanswerable  argument  for  the  divine 
origin  of  Christianity. 

It  agrees  with  the  testimony  of  the  inspired  writers, 
who  called,  not  only  God's  wisdom,  by  way  of  super- 
eminent  distinction,  but  his  wisdom  in  a  mystery, 
even  his  hidden  wisdom ;  which  could  not  possibly 
have  been  conceived  by  any  finite  mind,  however 
enlarged  or  sagacious.  It  affords  an  unanswerable  ar- 
gument for  the  divine  origin  of  Christianity,  since  it 
was  infinitely  too  deep  for  the  contrivance  of  men, 
and  absolutely  undiscoverable  by  the  penetration  of 
angels ;  how  could  it  be  known,  but  by  manifestation 
fromabove?  Whence  could  it  take  its  rise,  butfrom 
an  especial  revelation. 

t  The  cross  is,  by  some  authors,  styled  the  altar, 
but,  I  think,  improperly.  This  notion  seems  to  have 
sprung  from,  or  given  rise  to,  the  Popish  practice  of 
idolizing  the  crucifix.  At  least  it  countenances  such 
a  kind  of  foppish  or  sacrilegious  devotion,  more  than 
a  Protestant  writer  could  wish.  It  was  the  property 
of  the  altar  tosanctify  thegift.  This,  therefore,  when 
referred  to  our  Lord's  sacrifice,  is  a  far  more  exalted 
olfice  than  we  dare  ascribe  to  the  instrument  of  his 
suft'ering.  This  must  be  the  honour  and  prerogative 
of  his  divine  nature,  which  did  indeed  sanctify  the 
great  oblation  ;  gave  it  a  dignity,  a  merit,  an  efficacy, 
unspeakable  and  everlasting. 


IMALOGUE  III. 


IW 


These  he  resigned,  the  one  to  deadly 
wounds,  the  other  to  inexpressible  anguish, 
and  both  to  be  instead  of  all  Avhole  biimt- 
ofFerings.  On  this  invaluable  oblation,  his 
intercession  at  the  right  hand  of  his  Father 
is  founded  ;  from  this  it  derives  that  pre- 
vailing efficacy,  which  is  the  security  of  his 
standing,  and  the  recovery  of  his  fallen  dis- 
ciples. 

Give  me  leave  to  ask  farther,  \A'liat  is 
your  idea  of  a  sacrifice  ?  When  Iphigenia 
was  slain  at  the  altar,  what  was  the  import 
of  that  memorable  action  ? 

Ther.  It  was  intended,  if  we  may  credit 
Virgil's  account,*  to  appease  the  indignation 
of  the  superior  powers,  and  to  obtain  a 
propitious  gale  for  the  windbound  fleet  and 
confederate  forces  of  Greece.  But  I  hope 
you  would  not  make  that  solemn  butchery 
of  the  royal  virgin,  a  pattern  for  the  supreme 
goodness  ;  nor  the  practice  of  gross  idola- 
ters, a  model  for  the  religion  of  the  holy 
Jesus. 

Asp.  By  no  means,  Theron.  Only  I 
would  observe,  that  the  custom  of  ofTeiing 
sacrifices  obtained  among  the  most  cultivat- 
ed nations  of  the  heathen  world  ;  thst  these 
sacrifices  were  frequently  of  the  vicarious 
kind,  in  which  the  victim  was  substituted 
instead  of  the  oflferex,  and  the  former  being 
cut  oflT,  the  latter  was  discharged  from  pun- 
ishment ;  consequently  that  the  classic  au- 
thors would  (in  case  there  was  any  need  of 
such  auxiliaries)  join  with  the  sacred  wri- 
ters to  declare  the  expediency,  and  explain 
the  nature  of  sacrifices.  This  also  you  will 
permit  me  to  add,  that  if  the  heathens  tiiik 
sensibly  on  any  part  of  religious  worship,  it 
is  on  the  subject  of  sacrifices.  Their  sen- 
timents concerning  expiatory  oblations  seem 
to  be  the  faint  and  distant  echo  of  revela- 
tion ;  and  I  have  usually  considered  them 
rot  as  the  institutions  of  mere  reason,  but 
as  the  remains  of  some  broken  tradition. 

However,  the  truest  and  most  authentic 
signification  of  a  sacrifice,  is  to  be  learned 
from  the  Jewish  ritual,  explained  by  the 
gospel  comment.  Do  you  remember  the 
Mosaic  account  of  that  ordinance. 

Ther.  You  are  much  better  acquainted, 
Aspasio,  with  those  sacred  antiquities,  and 
can  give  the  most  satisfactory  information 
with  regard  to  this  particular.  Only  let  me 
remind  you,  that  alms  are  styled  ofltrings  ; 
and  praises,  both  in  the  prophetical  and 
evangelical  writings,  come  mider  the  de- 
nomination of  sacrifices. 

Asp.  Though  praises  and  alms  arc  styled 
sacrifices,  they  are  not  of  the  propitiatory, 
but  cucharistic  kind.  They  are  never  said 
to  expiate  transgressions,  only  are  repre- 
sented as  acceptable  to  God  through  Jesus 


•  Sanguine  plarasti  vontos,  cf  virgine  caesa 


Christ,  that  divinely  precious  victim,  whose 
merits  both  cancel  our  guilt,  and  commend 
our  services  !    According  to 

Ther.  Stay  a  moment,  Aspasio.  Let  me 
recollect  myself.  This  may  be  the  meaning 
of  sacrifices,  as  ordained  by  Moses,  and 
solemnized  among  the  Jews.  "  Sacrifices 
were  a  symbolical  address  to  God  ;  intended 
to  express  before  him  the  devotion,  affec- 
tions, dispositions,  and  desires  of  the  heait, 
by  significative  and  emblematical  actions." 
Or  thus  ;  "  The  ])riest  made  atonement  for 
sin,  by  sacrificing  a  beast,  only  as  that  was 
a  sign  and  testimony  of  the  sacrificcr's  pure 
and  upright  heart." 

Asp.  Sacrifices,  I  acknowledge,  were  a 
symbolical  address  to  God.  But  would 
you  confine  their  efticeicy  only  to  the  death 
of  the  anim;il,  and  the  purity  of  the  offerer? 
No,  Theron  :  they  always  had  a  reference 
to  the  great  sacrifice,  ordaii.ed  in  the  eter- 
nal counsels  of  Jehovah  ;  prepared  when 
the  co-eternal  Son  was  made  flesh,  offered 
when  the  blessed  Jesus  surrendered  him- 
self to  be  led  as  a  lamb  to  tlie  slaughter. 
They  were  so  far  from  being  independent 
of  this  divine  oblation,  that  they  acted  in 
perpetual  subserviency  to  it,  and  derived  all 
their  virtue  from  it.  They  were  the  sha- 
dow, but  the  body  was  Christ. 

"  They  expressed,"  you  say,  "  the  de- 
votion, affections,  dispositions,  and  desires 
of  the  heart."  But  I  rather  think  they  ex- 
j)ressed  the  guilt  and  the  faith  of  the  offerer. 
His  guilt :  for  this  seems  to  be  intimated 
by  the  very  names  of  the  projntiatory  sac- 
rifices ;  the  sin  and  the  sacrifice,  the  offend- 
ing action  and  the  expiatoiy  rite,  being 
signified  by  one  and  the  same  word.  *  It  is 
somewhat  more  than  intimated,  by  the  oc- 
casion of  the  offering,  and  the  state  of  tlie 
offerer ;  since  it  was  only  on  account  of 
guilt  contracted,  that  piacular  oblations 
were  made,  and  only  from  a  guilty  person 
that  they  were  required.  His  fiiith,  or  firm 
belief  that  ceremonial  guilt,  which  shut  him 
out  from  the  communion  of  the  visible 
church,  and  subjected  him  to  the  infliction 
of  temporal  punishments,  was  removed  by 
these  ;  but  that  moral  guilt,  which  defiles 
the  soul,  and  excludes  from  heaven,  should 
be  piu-ged  by  some  better  sacrifice  than 
these."}"  In  the  exercise  of  this  fiiith,  Abel 
offered  up  a  more  acceptable  sacrifice  than 
Cain ;  and  without  this  faith  exercised  in 
some  degree,  it  was  impossible  to  please 
God. 


*  nScOn  denotes  a  sin,  and  sin-offermg.  Lev.  ir. 

3,  24.  D^l^  signifies  the  trespass,  and  the  trespass- 
olTering,  Lev.  v.  15,  19. 

t  They  "sanctified  to  the  purifyinp;  of  the  flesh," 
Heb.  ix.  1.1.  "  but  could  not  make  him  (hat  did  the 
service  perfect,  as  pertaining  to  the  conscience,  Heli. 
ix.y. 


166 


THERON  AND  ASPA6I0. 


If  paciifices  were  intended  to  bespeak 
integrity  of  heart,  methinks  the  state  of  in- 
nocence had  been  the  properest  period  for 
their  institution  and  oblation.  But  we 
never  hear  of  this  awful  ceremony  till  man 
is  fallen,  and  sin  committed.  If  intended 
to  denote  purity  of  heart,  why  should  they 
be  particularly  enjoined  on  that  solemn  day 
when  confession  was  made  of  all  the  sins 
of  the  whole  congi-egation  ?  (Lev.  xvi.  21.) 
An  oddly  concerted  device  this  !  in  which 
the  tongue  must  contradict  what  the  cere- 
mony would  recognise.  Or,  how  could  it 
be  proper,  after  the  violation  of  some  law, 
or  the  neglect  of  some  ordinance,  im- 
mediately to  go  and  offer  a  sacrifice  ?  What 
would  be  the  language  of  such  a  practice  ? 
"  I  have  done  wickedly,  but  my  heart  is 
pure  and  upright."  Is  this  consistent  with 
the  spirit  of  humility,  of  modesty,  or  of  com- 
mon ingenuity  ?  Is  this  the  way  of  giving 
glory  to  God,  or  of  taking  shame  to  oiu-- 
selves  ?  Whereas,  let  the  sacrifice  be  a  ty- 
pical expiation,  and  this  is  the  signiiicancy 
of  the  action,  "  Lord,  I  confess  myself 
guilty.  Punishment  and  death  ai'e  my 
due.  Let  them  fall,  I  beseech  thee,  on  my 
victim  ;  that  thy  justice  being  glorified, 
and  thy  law  satisfied,  thy  mercy  may  be 
honourably  displayed  in  my  forgiveness. 

Besides,  Theron,  what  likeness,  what 
agreement  is  there  between  the  profession 
of  integrity  and  an  animal  mortally  woiuid- 
ed,  wallowing  in  its  own  blood,  and  strug- 
gling in  the  agonies  of  death  ?  Whereas, 
between  these  djdng  pangs  and  the  punish- 
ment due  to  sin,  or  the  son-ows  sustained 
by  the  cnicified  Saviour,  there  is  an  ap- 
parent, a  striking,  and  in  various  respects  an 
edifying  resemblance. 

7'Aer.  They  declared,  perhaps,  the  sacri- 
ficer's  readiness  and  resolution  to  sHy  the 
brute  in  himself,  and  to  lay  down  his  life 
in  adherence  to  God. 

Asp.  I  do  not  remember  any  assertion  of 
this  kind  in  the  Bible,  or  any  hint  to  coun- 
tenance such  an  interpretation.  It  seems, 
in  some  cases,  to  be  incompatible  with  the 
very  natin'e  of  things,  and  contrary  to  the 
express  declarations  of  Scripture.  Doves, 
you  know,  lambs  and  sheep,  were  offered 
in  sacrifice.  But  shall  we  slay  the  lamb, 
the  dove,  the  sheep  in  ourselves  ?  So  far 
from  it,  that  Christ's  disciples  are  either 
described  by  these  creatures,  or  command- 
ed to  imitate  their  properties.  "  Be  ye 
harmless  as  doves,"  (Matth.  x.  16.)  "  Peter, 
feed  my  lambs,"  (John  xxi.  15.)  "My 
sheep  hear  my  voice."  (.lohn  x.  27.) 

Supposing,  however,  that  this  might  be 
a  subordinate  design,  or  a  valuable  improve- 
ment of  the  sacrificial  acts,  yet  their  primary 
intention,  and  ultimate  end,  were  widely 
different ;  were  much  more  significant  of 
the   divine  compassions,  and  much  better 


adapted  to  the  comfort  of  mankind.  They 
were  an  awful  indication,  that  death  was 
the  wages  of  sin  ;  at  the  same  time  a  cheer- 
ing declaration,  that  God  was  pleased  to 
accept  the  death  of  the  animal  instead  of 
the  sinner's  ;  a  figurative  representation" 
also  of  that  illustrious  Person,  who  was  to 
bear  the  sin  of  many,  and  poiu"  out  his  soul 
for  transgressors. 

TTier.  Since  sacrifices  were  of  a  religious 
nature,  they  should  not  only  be  instructive 
and  beneficial  in  their  tendency,  but  have 
their  due  effects  with  regard  to  God,  to  sin, 
and  to  the  person  who  brought  them. 

Asp.  They  had  their  effects  mth  regard 
to  God,  that  his  justice  might  be  magnified 
and  his  anger  appeased — to  sin,  that  its  de- 
merit might  be  displayed,  yet  its  guilt  be 
done  away — to  the  person  who  brought 
them,  that  he  might  obtain  pardon,  be  ex- 
empted from  punishment,  and  exercise  his 
faith  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

T7ie7:  There  are  so  many  sorts  of  sacri- 
fice appointed  in  the  Jewish  rubric,  that  I 
am  at  a  loss  for  a  distinct  idea,  unless  some 
one  be  singled  out  and  separately  considered. 

Asp.  Among  all  the  sacrifices  instituted 
by  Moses,  none  more  circumstantially  typi- 
fied the  blessed  Jesus,  or  more  appositely 
expressed  the  benefits  of  his  oblation,  than 
the  paschal  lamb,  and  the  sin-ofFering,  on 
the  day  of  atonement. 

An  expositor,  who  cannot  be  mistaken, 
has  given  us  this  interpretation  of  the  pas- 
chal lamb  :  "  Christ  our  passover  is  sacri- 
ficed for  us  ;"-)■  declaring  hereby,  that  Christ 
is  a  real  sacrifice  ;  that  he  was  prefigured, 
in  this  capacity,  by  the  paschal  lamb  ;  that 
the  circumstances  which  distinguished  it, 
met  in  him  ;  and  the  advantages  which  re- 
sulted from  it,  were  prociu-ed  by  him  :  those, 
in  their  truest  import — these,  in  their  largest 
extent.     The  words  of  the  apostle  speak 


*  What  says  Milton  upon  this  subject  of  sacrifices, 
and  with  reference  to  their  principal  design  ?  He  calls 
them 

Religious  rites 

Of  sacrifice ;  informing  men  by  types 
And  shadows,  of  that  destined  seed  to  bruise 
The  serpent,  by  what  means  he  shall  achieve 
Mankind's  deliverance.— B.  12.  1.  231. 
+  1  (Jor.  V.  7.  Would  any  one  venture  to  say, 
Paul  our  passover  is  sacrificed  for  us  ?  Vet  this,  I 
think,  may  be,  or  rather  is  in  effect  said,  by  the  ac- 
count which  some  persons  give  of  Christ's  satisfaction. 
The  very  thought  of  such  a  blasphemous  absurdity 
is  too  painful  and  offensive  for  the  serious  Christian 
to  dwell  upon.  I  would  therefore  divert  his  atten- 
tion to  a  more  pleasing  object.  Let  him  observe  the 
exquisite  skill,  which  here  and  everywhere  conducts 
the  zeal  of  our  inspired  writer. — The  odesof  Pindar 
are  celebrated  for  their  fine  transitions,  which, though 
bold  and  surprising,  are  perfectly  natural.  We  have 
in  this  place  a  very  masterly  stroke  of  the  same 
beautiful  kind.  The  apostle,  speaking  of  the  inces- 
tuous criminal,  passes,  by  a  most  artful  digression,  to 
this  darling  topic,  a  crucified  Saviour.  Who  would 
have  expected  it  on  such  an  occasion  ?  Yet,  when 
thus  admitted,  who  does  not  see  and  admire  both  the 
propriety  of  the  subject,  and  the  delicacy  of  Us  in- 
duction .' 


DIALOGUE  III. 


167 


tliis  sense  to  the  plainest,  simplest  reader. 
Whereas,  to  extort  any  other  signification 
from  them,  what  subtilty  of  wit,  and  what 
refinement,  or  rather  violence  of  criticism, 
must  be  used  ! 

The  paschal  lamb  was  without  blemish. 
Such  was  the  lamb  of  God  ;  free  from  all 
taint  of  original  sin,  and  from  every  spot  of 
actu;il  transgression. — A  lamb  of  the  first 
year,  in  all  the  sprightlincss  and  tloridity  of 
youth.  Christ  also  laid  down  his  life, 
not  when  worn  with  age,  or  debilitated  with 
sickness  ;  but  in  the  very  prime  of  his  days ; 
amidst  all  the  bloom  of  health,  and  all  the 
vigour  of  manhood. — The  lamb  was  to  be 
slain  in  such  a  manner  as  miglit  occasion 
the  most  copious  effusion  of  its  blood.  And 
was  not  this  very  exactly  fulfilled  in  our 
suffering  Saviour?  His  blood  fiowed  out 
in  vast  abundance,  by  the  amazing  sweat  in 
the  garden ;  by  the  rending  lashes  of  the 
scourge  ;  by  the  lacerating  points  of  the 
thorns  ;  by  the  dreadful  nails  which  cleft 
his  hands  and  his  feet ;  by  the  deadly  spear 
which  ripped  open  his  side,  and  cut  its  way 

to  his  heart Though  the  blood  was  to  be 

so  liberally  spilt,  a  bone  of  the  lamb  was 
not  to  be  broken.  And  you  cannot  but  re- 
collect, you  cannot  but  admire,  the  wonder- 
ful interposition  of  Providence,  to  accom- 
plish this  emblematical  prediction.  When 
the  soldiers  had  received  a  command  to  break 
the  legs  of  the  three  crucified  persons  ; 
when  they  had  actually  broke  the  legs  of 
each  malefactor,  which  hung  on  the  right 
side  of  our  Lord  and  on  the  left ;  their 
minds  were  over-ruled  (by  a  divine  infiuence, 
no  doubt)  to  spare  the  blessed  Jesus,  and  to 
leave  all  his  bones  unhurt,  untouched. 

The  lamb  was  to  be  killed  before  the 
whole  .assembly;  in  the  presence,  either  of  the 
whole  congregation  of  Israel,  or  else  of  that 
particular  society  which  concurred  in  eating 
the  flesh.  And  did  not  the  whole  multitude 
of  the  Jews  conspire  against  our  Redeemer 
to  put  him  to  death?  Did  they  not  all  cry  out, 
as  with  one  voice,  Crucifi/ Iiiin!  Crucify  him! 
Was  he  not  executed  at  one  of  their  grand 
festivals,  and  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  as- 
sembled nation  ? — The  blood  was  not  to  be 
poured  heedlessly  upon  the  ground,  but  re- 
ceived carefully  into  a  bason,  and  s])rinklcd, 
with  the  utmost  punctuality,  upon  the  door- 
posts. In  like  manner,  the  blood  of  the 
heavenly  Lamb  is  not  to  be  tram])lcd  under 
foot  by  a  contemptuous  disregard.  It  is  the 
treasure  of  the  cluirch,  and  the  medicine  of 
life  ;  to  be  received,  therefore,  by  an  hum- 
ble faith,  and  devoutly  ap])lied  to  our  con- 
sciences  The  sprinkling  of  that  blood  se- 
cured every  Israelitish  family  from  the  des- 
troying angel's  sword.  So  the  merits  of  the 
slaughtered  Saviour*  screen  every  believing 


•  Both  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  sjicak  of  tlicl)looaof 
fl>rinkUng,  1  Pet.  i.  2;  Heb.  xii.  24.;   intimating, 


sinner  from  the  stroke  of  offended  justice, 
and  from  the  pains  of  etenial  death. — What 
must  have  become  of  the  Israelite,  who, 
trusting  to  the  uprightness  of  his  heart, 
should  neglect  to  make  use  of  this  divinely- 
appointed  safeguard?  He  must  inevitably 
have  been  punished  with  the  death  of  his 
first-born.  Equally  certain,  but  infinitely 
more  dreadful,  will  be  his  condemnation, 
who,  before  the  omniscient  Judge,  shall  pre- 
sume to  plead  his  own  integrity,  or  confide 
in  his  own  repentance,  and  reject  the  atone- 
ment of  the  dying  Jesus. 

Titer.  Now,  if  you  please,  for  the  sin  of- 
fering,* which  seems  to  have  been  the  most 
eminent  sacrifice  of  them  all. 

Asp.  It  was  the  most  comprehensive, 
because  it  shadowed  forth  not  only  the 
death  of  Christ,  but  his  resurrection  from 
the  dead,  and  his  ascension  into  heaven.  As 
the  various  actions  of  some  illustrious  per- 
sonage, which  cannot  be  exhibited  by  the 
painter  in  a  single  draught,  are  displayed  in 
several  compartments,  yet  all  constitute  one 
and  the  same  grand  historical  picture  ;  so, 
these  glorious  events,  incapable  of  being  re- 
presented by  any  single  animal,  were  typi- 
fied by  two  kids  of  the  goats,  which  never- 
theless were  reputed  but  as  one  offering. f 

These  goats  were  brought  to  the  door  of 
the  tabernacle,  and  there  presented  before 
the  Lord.  Clu-ist  also  presented  himself 
before  God,  when  "  he  went  up  to  Jerusa- 


by  this  remarkable  form  of  speech,  that  the  death  of 
Christ  will  be  of  no  advantage  to  the  sinner,  unless  it 
be  applied  to  his  heart ;  as  the  blood  of  the  paschal 
lamb  was  no  protection  to  an  Israelite,  till  it  had 
tinged  the  posts  of  his  door.  Isaiah,  using  the  same 
phrase,  anci  alluding  to  the  same  custom,  says  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  "he  shall  sprinkle  many  nations,^' 
lii.  15.  Not  only  initiate  them  into  his  church  by 
baptism ;  but  also,  by  the  application  of  his  blood 
shall  cleanse  them  from  their  guilt,  and  deliver  them 
from  the  wrath  to  come. 

*  For  the  circumstances  relating  to  the  sin-offer- 
ing the  reader  will  consult  Lev.xvi.  For  those  which 
concern  the  paschal  lamb,  he  will  have  recourse  to 
E.\od.  xii. 

r  How  runs  the  divine  command  '  "  He  (the  high 
priest)  shall  take  of  the  congregation  twokids  of  the 
goatsforasin-otfering,"  Lev.xvi. .5.  Are  not  these  two 
kids  sty  led,  in  thesingular  number  and  collective  sense, 
an  offering  ?  That  we  might  not  mistake,  God  is 
pleased  to  add,  "  and  one  ram  for  a  burnt-offering." 
Here  he  names  one,  to  prevent  a  misapprehension  of 
his  meaning,  when  he  had  before  said  two.  To  ren- 
der his  meaning  still  more  apparent,  and  that  we  may 
regard  this  goat  as  joined  In  the  same  ofFeringwith  the 
other,  the  Lord,  contrary  to  his  own  rule  in  all  other 
cases,  orders  the  high  priest  to  lay  his  hands  upon  the 
head  of  the  scape-goat,  not  upon  the  head  of  the  goat 
devoted  to  death.  He  dividis  the  necessary  circum- 
stances of  a  sacrifice  between  them  both,  to  intimate. 
In  the  clearest  manner,  that  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  separate,  but  both  taken  together,  were  the  one 
sacrificial  oblation,  appointee!  for  this  distinguished 
solemnity. 

If  this  be  true,  I  think  tlic  passage  is  a  pretty  con- 
siderable proof,  that  atonemont  was  made  by  sutTering 
vicarious  punishment;  notwithstanding  what  his 
been  urged  against  it,  from  the  tenth  verse  of  the 
chapter.  Should  we  recpiire  human  authority  for  the 
support  of  this  interpretation,  one  of  tlic  t^reati'st 
human  authorities  may  be  seen  in  the  celebrated  Wit- 
slus;  "  Uterquehircuspertinebat  ad  unum  sacrifici- 
um  pro  peccato,  hostuT  unius  loco.  Uter'iue  erat 
pecuspiacularis,  vicaria  Israeli  pcccatori,  ejusque  pec- 
eatum  ferens."      Do-  Oeeon,  lib,  iv.  cap.  6. 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


lem,  that  all  things  written  by  the  prophets 
concerning  him  might  be  accomplished," 
(Luke  xviii.  31.)  The  goat  on  which  the 
Lord's  lot  fell,  was  devoted  to  death. 
"  Christ  also  being  delivered  by  the  deter- 
minate counsel  and  foreknowledge  of  God," 
(Acts  ii.  23.)  "was  crucified  and  slain." 
The  body  was  burnt  wthout  the  camp, 
which  pointed  at  tlie  veiy  place,  and  pic- 
tured out  the  very  nature  of  our  Lord's 
sufferings :  "  For  he  suffered  without  the 
gate,"  (Heb.  xiii.  12.)  was  there  exposed 
to  the  rage  of  men  and  the  wrath  of  God, 
under  the  most  exquisite  pains  of  body,  and 
the  most  insupportable  agonies  of  soul;  all 
significantly  typified  by  the  flame  of  a  de- 
vouring fire,  than  which  nothing  is  more 
fierce,  more  penetrating,  or  more  severely 
tormenting. 

As  the  animal  which  was  slaughtered 
showed  forth  the  Redeemer  dying  for  our 
sins,  that  which  escaped  prefigiu-ed  the 
same  Saviour  rising  again  for  our  justifica- 
tion. The  high  priest  put  his  hands  upon 
the  head  of  the  scape-goat,  and  with  great 
solemnity  confessed  the  sins  of  the  whole 
congregation.  The  import  of  this  cere- 
mony is  expressly  declared  in  the  sacred 
canon  :  "  The  goat  shall  bear  upon  him 
their  iniquity."*  It  is  charmingly  explained 
by  the  prophet,  "  The  Lord  laid  on  him 
the  iniquities  of  us  all,"  (Isa.  liii.  6.)  and 
most  delightfully  confirmed  by  the  apostle, 
"  He  himself  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body 
on  the  tree,"  (1  Pet.  ii.  24.) 

This  done,  the  goat  was  dismissed  into  a 
land  not  inhabited,  a  place  sei)arated  from 
all  resort  of  men,  where  he  was  never  like- 
ly to  be  found  any  more  ;  to  teach  us,  that 
our  offences,  having  been  expiated  by  the 
bleeding  Jesus,  are  entirely  done  away,  shall 
never  rise  up  in  judgment  against  us,  but 
according  to  the  prophecy  of  Jeremiah, 
"  When  the  iniquity  of  Israel  shall  be  sought 
for,  there  shall  be  none  ;  and  the  sins  of 
Judah,  they  shall  not  be  found,"  (  Jer.  1.  20.) 
It  is  further  enjoined,  "  that  Aaron  shall 
confess  all  the  iniquities  of  the  children  of 
Israel,  and  all  their  transgressions,  in  all 
their  sins."  Iniquities,  transgressions,  sins 
are  particularized ;  and  to  this  cluster  of 
expressions,  the  word  all  is  added,  to  in- 
form us,  that  the  least  sins  need  the  atone- 
ment of  Christ's  death  ;  to  assure  us,  that 
the  greatest  sinsare  not  beyond  the  compass 
of  its  efficacy ;  and  that  all  sins,  be  they 
ever  so  heinous,  or  ever  so  numerous,  are 
forgiven  to  the  true  believer. 

The  high-priest  carried  the  blood  of  the 
victim  into  the  second  tabernacle,  even  with- 
in the  veil.    So  Clirist  entered  with  his  own 


t  It  is  observable,  that  whereas  the  scape-goat  is  said 
to  bear  (  Ji^Ii;^  )  the  s  iis  of  Israel,  Lev.  xvi.SJ;  the 
xrry  same  pluijse  is  applied  to  Christ,  Isa.  liii.  12. 


blood,  not  into  the  holy  places  made  \vit\i 
hands,  but  into  heaven  itself.  The  blood  was 
sprinkled  before  the  mercy-seat,  and  left  in 
the  holy  of  liolies,  that  it  might  always  remain 
before  the  Lord.  And  does  not  Christ  al- 
ways appear  in  the  presence  of  God  for  us  ? 
does  he  not  ever  live  to  make  intercession  for 
us?  to  plead  his  all-sufficient  propitiation 
in  our  behalf;  that  the  benefits  procured 
thereby  may  be  communicated,  ratified,  and 
perpetuated  to  his  people  ? 

Ther.  These  benefits,  Aspasio,  are  as- 
cribed, in  Scripture,  to  repentance  and  re- 
formation of  life,  qualifications  of  our 
own ;  not  to  any  such  cause  as  a  vicarious 
sacrifice,  where  the  merit  must  necessarily 
subsist  in  another.  \VTiat  says  the  apostle 
Peter  when  he  had  just  received  his  in- 
structions from  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  "  Re- 
pent and  be  converted ;"  not  look  tin- 
to  an  atonement,  or  depend  upon  a  pro- 
pitiation ;  "  that  your  sins  may  be  blotted 
out."  (Acts  iii.  19.) 

Asp.  It  is  tnie,  the  benefits  of  the  new 
covenant  are  promised  to  penitents,  as  their 
happy  portion  ;  but  never  assigned  to  their 
repentance,  as  the  procuring  cause  :  never 
to  their  repentance,  but  to  the  blood  of  tlie 
great  High  Priest,  called,  therefore  "  the 
blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant,"  (Heb. 
xiii.  20.)  being  the  condition  stipulated  in 
it,  required  by  it,  and  in  consequence  of 
which  all  its  unspeakable  privileges  are 
bestowed. 

Besides,  the  qualifications  you  suppose 
are  the  gift  of  the  Lord.  We  are  not  able 
to  exercise  them  till  Christ,  who  is  exalted 
for  this  very  purpose,  gives  repentance. 
(Acts  V.  31.)  A  conversion  to  God,  and' 
a  newness  of  life,  are  not  the  effect  of  hu- 
man abilities,  but  the  work  of  the  divine 
Spirit,  and  the  fruit  of  the  Redeemer's 
death.  Indeed,  this  death  is  the  purchase 
of  every  heavenly  blessing.  This  opens 
the  heaven  of  heavens,  and  all  its  inex- 
haustible stores.  By  this  we  have  the  en- 
joyment of  grace,  and  by  this  the  hope  of 
glory. 

Ther.  You  begin  to  be  in  raptm'es,  As- 
pasio ! 

Asp.  Excuse  me,  Theron.  It  is  not 
easy  to  repress  the  sallies  of  delight  and 
devotion,  when  we  muse  upon  such  amaz- 
ing loving-kindness,  and  are  touched  wth  a 
sense  of  such  immensely  rich  benefits.  A 
great  High  Priest!  who  is  "higher  than 
the  heavens,"  (Heb.  vii.  26,)  yet  humbled 
himself  to  death,  even  the  death  of  the 
cross  !  who  is  "  consecrated  for  evermore,'" 
(Heb.  vii-  28,)  and  pleads  all  his  merit,  im- 
proves all  his  influence,  for  our  consum- 
mate felicity  ! 

"  What  heart  of  stone  but  glows  at  thoughts  like 

these? 
Such  contemplations  mount  us.  and  should  mount 


DIALOGUE  III. 


169 


The  mind  still  higher;  nor  ever  glance  on  man 
Unraptured  uninflamed."     A'iV'<  'Dwughts,  No.  iv. 

But  I  check  myself;  and  will  either 
reply  to  your  objections,  or  listen  to  your 
sentiments ;  listen  as  attentively  as  you 
yourself  attend  to  the  music  of  that  shrill- 
tongued  thrush. 

Ther.  Its  sweetly-modulated  lays,  emi- 
nent even  in  the  symphony  of  spring,  have 
indeed  attracted  my  ears.  Eut  my  mind  is 
disengaged  and  free  for  your  conversation. 

Asp.  I  can  re])eat  a  song,  sweeter  far 
than  this,  or  all  the  melody  of  the  wood- 
land choirs. — A  song,  which  has  harmony 
enough  to  make  the  brow  of  melancholy 
wear  a  smile,  or  to  sooth  away  the  sorrows 
of  death  itself:  "  Who  shall  lay  any  thing 
to  the  charge  of  God's  elect  ?  It  is  God 
that  justifieth  ;  who  is  he  that  condemneth  ? 
It  is  Christ  that  died  ;  yea  rather,  that  is 
risen  again  ;  who  is  even  at  the  right  hand 
of  God  ;  who  also  maketh  intercession  for 
us."  (Rom.  viii.  33,  34.)  According  to 
my  friend's  principles,  the  strain  of  this 
triumphant  exclamation  was  ill-judged,  and 
should  have  run  in  the  following  manner  : 
"  Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to  our  charge  ? 
We  have  endeavoured  to  preserve  a  recti- 
tude of  disposition,  and  to  persist  in  a 
laudable  course  of  action.  Wherever  we 
failed,  we  have  been  sony  for  the  fault,  and 
have  implored  pardon  from  the  divine  ma- 
jesty. What  then  shall  dismay  us,  or  who 
shall  condemn  us  ?"  Your  topics  of  con- 
solation would  be  complete,  without  having 
recourse  to  the  death  of  Christ  as  an  atone- 
ment for  sin  ;  or,  to  the  resurrection  of 
Christ,  as  an  evidence  that  the  atonement 
is  accepted  ;  or  to  the  intercession  of 
Christ,  as  the  cause  of  our  interest  in  that 
transcendent  blessing. 

Ther.  Since  you  so  frequently  mention, 
and  so  earnestly  insist  upon  atonement,  I 
should  be  glad  to  know  the  precise  signifi- 
cation of  the  word.  I  am  told,  the  original 
phrase  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  idea  of 
making  satisfaction. 

Asp.  We  may  learn  the  precise  signifi- 
cation of  atonement,  by  considering  the 
means,  the  effect,  and  the  manner,  whereby 
the  means  accomplish  the  effect.  The  ef- 
fect of  atonement  is  pardon.  The  means 
of  obtaining  it  are  the  death  of  Christ. 
The  way  or  manner  whereby  the  death  of 
Christ  becomes  efticacious  for  this  blessed 
purpose,  is  the  sovereign  appointment  of 
his  F^ither,  the  infinite  dignity  of  his  ])er- 
son,  and  especially  the  vicarious  nature  of 
his  sufferings,  or  their  being  undergone  in 
the  stead  of  sinners. 

Tlur.  It  has  been  supposed,  and  is  af- 
firmed too,  that  our  Saviour's  obedience  and 
death  were  conducive  to  our  redem})tion, 
only  in  virtue  of  his  Father's  will  and  aj)- 
pointmcnt. 


Aep.  I  am  glad  it  is  some  other,  and  not 
my  Theron,  who  esjmuses  this  opinion, 
which  is  highly  injurious  to  the  dignity  of 
our  Redeemer's  person,  and  to  the  merit  of 
his  obedience.  Neither  is  it  very  honour- 
able to  the  wisdom  of  the  Father,  miless 
we  suppose  him  therefore  to  have  appointed 
the  death  of  Christ,  because  he  knew  it  was 
fully  sufficient  for  the  glorious  pui-jiose. 

jAnd  why  should  we  use  that  weak  in- 
adequate expression,  conducive  to  our  re- 
demption ?  Would  any  one  say,  of  Solo- 
mon's elegant  and  sumptuous  temple,  that 
it  was  conducive  to  the  accomplishment  of 
what  Moses  foretold?  (E.\od.  xv.  17.) 
David's  provision  of  stones,  of  timber,  and 
of  gold,  was,  if  you  please,  condu(dve  to  it. 
But  Solomon's  act  was  perfective  of  it,  was 
the  very  execution  of  the  thing  itself.  Such 
are  the  obedience  and  death  of  Christ,  with 
respect  to  our  redemption. 

Ther.  But  we  forget  the  original  word, 
and  neglect  to  inquire  into  its  genuine  im- 
port. 

Asp.  The  word,  which  we  translate 
atonement,  implies,  in  its  primary  accepta- 
tion, the  notion  of  covering.  Tims  the  ark 
was  covered,*  "  was  overlaid  with  pitch, 
within  and  without,"  that  all  its  chinks 
might  be  secured  against  the  insinuating 
attempts  of  the  water,  and  all  its  timber 
defended  from  the  injuries  of  the  liquid  ele- 
ment. When  an  object,  in  this  or  any 
other  manner,  is  covered  over  for  safety ; 
the  covering  receives  every  shock,  and  sus- 
tains all  damages,  which  would  othenvise 
fall  upon  the  thing  covered.  The  image, 
therefore,  is  very  pertinently  used  to  ex- 
press the  true  evangelical  nature  of  atone- 
ment;  and  the  M'ord  is  used,  with  equsl 
propriety,  to  describe  the  mercy-seat,f  which 
was  a  costly  covering  for  the  ark,  made  of 
j)ure  gold,  and  exactly  conmieiisurafe  to  that 
sacred  repository.  In  this  were  lodged  the 
tables  of  the  law  ;  whose  precepts  we  have 
violated,  and  to  whose  curse  \ve  were  sub- 
ject. Consequently  the  mercy-seat,  both 
by  its  situation,  its  extent,  and  its  office, 
prefigured  the  Redeemer ;  who  interposes 
between  the  law  and  the  ofl'ender ;  fiiltils 
the  commands,  and  sustains  the  curse  of 
the  former  ;  merits  i)ardon,  and  procures 
salvation  for  the  latter. 

As  some  fine  flower,  having  entertained 
our  eye  with  one  beautiful  colour,  suddenly 
breaks,  or  gradually  softens  into  another, 
and  gives  us  a  renewed  ])leasure  ;  such, 
methinks,  is   the  nature   ol   this  delightful 


*  jmE)0  Thou  shalt "  besmear,  cover,  or  overlay, 
Gen.  vi.  14.  This  is  the  first  place  in  wliich  our  word 
occurs.  It  is  supposed  to  give  us  the  genuine  and 
native  sense  of  the  phrase.  Perhaps  the  Knglish  ex- 
pression "  cover,''  may  be  derived  from  the  participle 
133  "  copher." 

\  n"13D  Kxod.  XXV.  17. 


170 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


word.  It  is  expressive  of  the  hoar-frost,* 
which,  in  a  serene  but  sharp  wintry  morn- 
ing, covers  the  houses,  covers  the  trees, 
covers  the  whole  face  of  nature.  So  the 
blood  of  Jesus,  according  to  the  Psalmist's 
representation,  covers  all  our  guilt,  and 
hides  every  offence.  (Psalm  xxxii.  1.) 
Insomuch  that,  when  this  blood  is  applied 
by  the  divine  Spirit,  the  Lord  "  sees  no  in- 
iquity in  Jacob."  (Num.  xxiii.  21.)  He 
acts,  as  if  he  saw  none  ;  neither  punishes 
the  guilty,  nor  abhors  the  polluted  siiuier. 

The  same  expression  is  used  with  refer- 
ence to  a  covenant,  and  signifies  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  contract  ;f  which  was  done  by 
cancelling  the  deed,  or  expunging  the  ar- 
ticles of  stipulation.  By  the  covenant  of 
works,  all  mankind  became  obnoxious  to 
condemnation,  were  bound  over  to  death. 
By  the  grace  of  Christ  our  obligation  to 
punishment  is  disannulled,  and  the  hand- 
writing of  condemnation  is  blotted  out. 
Should  you  ask,  how  this  is  effected  ?  By 
paying  a  ransom,  and  offering  a  sacrifice. 
Should  you  farther  inquire,  of  what  this 
ransom  and  this  sacrifice  consisted?  Of 
nothing  less  than  the  precious  blood,|  the 
inestimable  life,§  the  divinely-magnificent 
person  of  Christ- 1| 

Ther.  Tliese  then  are  the  capital  ideas 
included  in  the  original  word — a  covering 
by  way  of  defence,  and  a  covering  by  way 
of  concealment. 

Asp.  They  are,  Theron. — As  the  brain, 
in  the  animal  body,  is  the  source  of  sensa- 
tion, sends  out  various  detachments  of 
nei-ves  to  animate  aiid  actuate  all  the  parts 
of  the  vital  system  ;  so  these  two  cajjital 
ideas  branch  themselves  into  a  variety  of 
subordinate,  yet  similar  significations,  ^^■hich 
run  through  the  whole  economy  of  the  gos- 
pel, to  enliven  and  quicken  the  spirit  of  a 
believer.  Let  me  instance  in  a  few  parti- 
culars. This  richly-significant  word  de- 
notes— the  exercise  of  divine  mercy,  (Deut. 
xxxii.  43,)  the  pardon  of  sin,  (Deut.  xxi. 
8;  2  Chron.  xxx.  18,)  a  cleansing  from 
guilt,  (Numb.  xxxv.  33,)  purging  from 
transgression,  (Psalm  Ixv.  3,)  reconciliation 


*  "713  J  Psa'-  cxlvii.  16.  The  idea  deduced  from 
noar-frost,  is  not  so  exact  and  striking,  in  our  north- 
ern clime,  as  in  the  more  southern  regions.  There, 
the  exhalations  and  dews  being  more  copious,  the 
hoar-frost  must  fall  thicker,  lie  deeper,  and  more  ful- 
ly correspond  with  the  notion  of  covering. 

t  Isa.  xxviii- 18.  "}r3 J  abolebitur.  "  Proprie  sonat, 
oblinetur,  obliterabiter,  estenim.  "13^  Hebra'ispro- 
prie  quid  obducere,  atque  inde  (cum  obducta  et  oblita 
dispareant)  delere,  abolere."  Thus,  I  apprehend,  the 
words  should  be  pointed- 

t  "  Nor  by  the  blood  of  goats  and  calves,  but  by 
hisowTi  blood,"  Heb.  ix.  12. 

§  "  The  son  of  man  came  to  give  his  life  a  ransom 
for  many,"  Mark  x.  45. 

II  "  Who  through  the  eternal  Spirit  offered  himself 
without  spot  to  God,"  Heb.  ix.  14. 


for  iniquity,  (Dan.  ix.  24,)  the  pacifying  of 
wrath,  (  Ezek.  x-vi.  63. )  Do  not  these  pas- 
sages (which  are  expressed  by  some  branch 
of  the  verb  that  conveys  to  us  the  idea  of 
atoning)  plainly  intimate,  that  the  atone- 
ment of  Christ  is  the  meritorious  cause  of 
all  these  desirable  effects  ?  is  the  foundation 
of  every  act  of  divine  goodness ;  and  the 
origin  of  every  blessing  vouchsafed  to  sin- 
ners? 

Ther.  After  all,  this  is  the  consideration 
wluch  principally  offends  and  perplexes  me : 
God  is  a  spirit,  an  absolutely  perfect  and 
infinitely  pure  being  ;  remote,  inconceivably 
remote,  from  whatever  is  gross  or  corporeal. 
How  then  can  he  take  pleasure  in  the  effu- 
sion of  blood,  or  the  biu-ning  of  flesh  ?  How 
can  any  such  low  carnal  inducements  make 
him  merciful  to  sinners,  or  appease  what 
you  call  his  ^vrath. 

Asp.  Rather,  what  the  Scriptures  call 
his  wrath.  You  mistake  oirr  doctrine,  my 
dear  Theron.  We  never  maintain  that  any 
sacrifice  whatever,  not  even  the  propitiation 
of  Christ's  death,  was  intended  to  make 
God  merciful ;  only  to  make  way  for  his 
eternal  purposes  of  mercy,  without  any  pre- 
judice either  to  the  demands  of  his  law  or 
the  rights  of  his  justice.  Our  sentiments 
on  this  head  are  exactly  consonant  to  his 
ovm  declaration,  and  his  own  procedure, 
in  the  case  of  Job's  friends ;  (see  Job  xlii. 
7,  8. )  Though  displeased  with  their  con- 
duct, he  was  merciful  to  their  persons ; 
nevertheless,  he  would  not  exercise  that 
mercy  till  they  had  tiist  offered  a  sacrifice, 
and  acted  faith  in  a  dying  Saviour. 

Neither  is  it  ever  supposed,  that  the  infi- 
nitely wise  and  pure  God  can  take  pleasure 
in  the  effusion  of  blood,  or  the  burning  of 
flesh,  simply  considered  ;  only  as  they  had 
a  reference  to  that  noble  and  inestimable 
sacrifice,  which  brings  the  highest  honour  to 
his  name,  which  those  slaughtered  animals 
exhibit  in  a  figure,  and  to  which  every  tnie 
Israelite  had  a  believing  regard. 

I  say,  had  a  believing  regard.  For  it  is  af- 
firmed by  the  author  of  the  Hebrews,  that  the 
gospel  was  preached  to  the  Israelites  in  the 
wilderness,  (Heb.  iv.  2.)  What  does  he 
mean  by  the  gospel  ?  The  very  essence  of 
this  benevolent  scheme,  according  to  the 
apostle's  own  definition,  is,  that  "  Christ 
died  for  our  sins,"  (I  Cor.  xv.  3.)  How 
was  this  gospel  preached  to  our  fathers  in 
the  wilderness  ?  By  significant  emblems ; 
especially  by  slaughtered  anim.ils,  and  bleed- 
ing victims,  by  which  Christ  was  almost 
continually,  though  not  so  evidently  as  in 
these  latter  times,  "  set  forth  crucified  for 
sinners."  (Gal.  iii.  1.) 

In  this  sense  alone,  those  carnal  nsages 
were  worthy  the  wisdom  of  God  to  appoint, 
and  the  majesty  of  God  to  accept.     This 


DIALOGUE  III. 


in 


gave  them  a  peculiar  dignity  and  importance, 
and  set  them  far  above  all  the  similar  obser- 
vances used  in  the  heathen  worship.  They 
were  also,  when  thus  explained,  thus  improv- 
ed, extremely  profitable  to  believers  ;  as  they 
directed  their  contemplation  to  the  future 
sufferings  of  a  Saviom',  and  ratified  to  their 
faith  the  benefits  of  his  ever-operating  sac- 
rifice ;  which,  we  were  assured  by  an  infalli- 
ble voice,  was  effectual  "  for  the  redemption 
of  the  transgressions  under  the  first  cove- 
nant."* 

Ther.  So  you  apprehend,  that  in  those 
usages  practised  by  the  ancient  Jews,  the 
gospel  was  emblematically  preached,  and 
Christ  in  a  figure  exhibited  ? 

Axp.  ]\Iost  certainly,  Thcron.  And  for 
this  cause,  under  the  law,  almost  all  things 
were  purged  with  blood,  (Heb.  ix.  22.) 
The  midtiplicity,  the  variety,  the  constancy 
of  their  sacrifices,  were  all  designed  to  im- 
press upon  their  minds,  and  familiarize  to 
their  thoughts,  this  great  evangelical  truth. 
Was  any  one  overtaken  by  a  fault  ?  He 
must  present  a  victim,  and  the  priest  must 
slay  it,  by  way  of  trespass-offering  ;  to  sig- 
nify, that  the  guilt  which  was  contracted  could 
be  done  away  only  by  the  atoning  death  of 
Clu^ist.  Had  any  one  received  a  signal 
blessing?  A  beast  was  slain  by  way  of  peace- 
offering;  as  a  public  expression  of  gratitude 
for  the  mercy,  and  also  as  an  emphatical 
declaration,  that  all  good  vouchsafed  to  fal- 
len man  is  owing  to  the  Redeemer's  ransom. 
Was  any  one  to  be  invested  with  the  priest- 
ly office,  or  admitted  to  minister  in  the  sanc- 
tuary? A  ram  or  a  bullock  must  bleed,  byway 
of  atonement,  and  for  the  purpose  of  conse- 
crating, (Lev.  viii.  22.  Numb.  viii.  12.)  in 
order  to  testify,  that  no  man  can  officiate 
with  acceptance  in  the  worship  of  God  ; 
that  no  service,  though  of  a  religious  kind, 


•  Heb.  ix.  \h.  When  I  reflect  on  these  words,  I 
wonder  how  any  one  can  assert,  that  all  the  Jews 
died  under  the  curse  of  the  law.  Died  under  the 
curse  of  the  law  !  even  though  the  apostle  has  war- 
ranted it  for  a  truth,  that  "  all  these"  (meaning  Abra- 
ham, Sarah,  Isaac,  Jacob,&c.)  "died  in  faith,  Heb. 
xi.  13.  Even  though  he  has  elswhere  laid  it  down  as 
a  maxim,  "so  then  they  which  are  of  faith,"  (in 
whatever  period  of  time  they  live,  or  under  whatever 
dispensation  of  religion  they  worship,)  "are  blessed 
with  faithful  Abraham."  Gal.  iii. !».  Kven  though 
the  Psalmist  in  one  place  alKrms  "blessed  are  they 
whose  unrighteousnesses  are  forgiven,  and  whose  sin 
is  covered  ;"  and,  in  another  place,  declares  concern- 
ing himself  and  his  pious  cotemporaries,  "look  how 
wide  the  east  is  from  the  west !  .'^o  far  hath  he  set 
our  sins  from  us."     Psalm  xxxii.  1.  Psalm  ciii.  li. 

From  these  and  many  other  texts,  I  think  it  it 
evident,  that  the  faithful  Jews  no  more  died  under 
the  curse  of  the  law,  than  the  faithful  Christians. 
The  death  of  Christ  procured  the  pardon  and  accept- 
ance of  believers,  even  before  he  came  in  the  flesh. 
From  the  beginning,  he  had  covenanted  with  the 
Father,  as  their  Mediator;  and  God,  to  whom  all 
things  are  present,  saw  the  certain  accomplishment 
of  his  undertaking.  He  was  therefore,  by  virtue  of 
thedivuie  decree,  and  in  point  of  saving  efficacy,  "  a 
Lamb  slain  from  the  foundation  ol  the  world." 
Though  he  laid  down  his  life  in  the  reign  of  Tiber- 
ius, he  was  a  real  Kcdccmer  in  all  ages. 


can  be  pleasing  in  his  sight,  till  the  former 
is  interested  in  the  merits,  unless  the  latter 
is  recommended  by  the  death  of  the  great 
High  Priest. 

And  not  only  by  their  solemn  sacrificial 
acts,  but  even  by  their  ordinary  meals,  this 
grand  lesson  was  inculcated.  They  were 
forbidden  to  eat  the  blood,  in  order  to 
awaken  and  preserve  in  their  consciences 
a  reverential  and  fiducial  regard  to  the  pre- 
cious blood  of  Christ.  The  Holy  Ghost 
assigning  a  reason  for  this  sacred  prohibition, 
says  expressly,  "  Because  the  blood  maketh 
an  atonement  for  your  souls,"  (Lev.  xvii. 
11.)  the  blood  of  beasts  typically,  the  blood 
of  Christ  effectually.  O  that  Christians 
would,  in  this  particidar,  learn  of  Jews ; 
learn,  at  least,  from  Jewdsh  ordinances,  to 
have  their  attention  incessantly  fixed  on  that 
divine  High  Priest,  who,  by  one  offering, 
hath  perfected  for  ever, — not  barely  condu- 
ced or  contributed  to  the  work,  but  hath 
fully  accomplished  it,  and  obtained  complete 
remission  for — them  that  are  sanctified, 
(Heb.  x,  14.) 

Thcr,  Some  offerings  were  made  without 
any  effusion  of  blood.  What  could  those 
mean  ?  Or  how  coidd  they  typify  the  sac- 
rifice of  Christ  ? 

Asp.  Perhaps  the  apostle  might  foresee 
such  an  objection  when  he  used  that  guarded 
expression,  almost  all  things  were  purged 
with  blood.  If,  in  these  cases,  there  was 
no  effusion  of  blood,  yet  there  was  a  des- 
truction of  the  substance.  The  meat-offer- 
ings were  consumed  by  fire  ;  which  is  much 
the  same  to  inanimate  things,  as  shedding  of 
the  blood  is  to  livingcreatures.  The  same  ef- 
fect is  ascribed  to  these  oblations,  as  to  those 
of  the  sanguinary  kind.  It  is  expressly  de- 
clared of  the  poor  man's  trespass-offering, 
which  consisted  of  fine  Hour,  and  was  burnt 
upon  the  altar,  "  It  shall  make  an  atone- 
ment for  him,"  (Lev.  v.  11,  12,  IS.)  So 
that  here  also  was  what  we  may  truly  call  a 
visible  prediction  of  Christ.  The  offerings 
which  flamed,  as  well  as  the  victims  which 
bled,  sliowed  forth  our  dying  Lord  :  whose 
one  "oblation  of  himself  once  offered,"  com- 
prized all  the  qualities,  and  realized  the 
whole  efficacy  represented  by  every  other 
sacrifice. 

Titer.  Another  odd  circumstance  has 
often  given  me  disgust,  and  been  apt  to  pre- 
judice me  against  the  institutions  of  the  Old 
Testament.  Many  of  them  appear  mean, 
contemptible,  and  perfectly  puerile.  "  Can 
these,"  I  have  said  within  myself,  "  be  or- 
dained by  a  God  of  infinite  wisdom,  and 
transcendent  glory  ?  Can  we  reasonably  im- 
agine, that  a  mandate  should  be  issued  from 
the  coiu't  of  heaven,  on  purpose  to  forbid 
the  boiling,  and  enjoin  the  roasting  of  some 
particidar  piece  of  meat?  (Exod.  xii.  9.) 


172 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Will  the  Great  Ruler  of  the  skies  concern 
himself  about  the  precise  manner  of  killing 
one  bird,  and  releasing  another  ?  (  Lev.  xiv. 
4,  5,  6,  7.)  Will  he  who  claims  the  wor- 
ship of  the  heart,  have  such  an  especial  re- 
gard to  a  drop  or  two  of  despicable  blood, 
put  upon  the  tip  of  the  right  ear,  or  the 
thumb  of  the  right  hand?  (Exod.  xxix.  20.) 
Surely,  such  childish  ceremonies  are  too 
minute  and  trivial  for  the  notice,  much  more 
for  the  solemn  appointment,  of  the  supreme 
Majesty !" 

Asp.  You  will  please  to  remember,  that 
when  those  ceremonies  were  ordained,  it 
was  the  infancy,*  at  least  the  minority  of  the 
church.  If  we  advert  to  this  circumstance, 
we  shall  have  reason  to  admire  both  the  all- 
comprehending  wisdom,  and  the  no  less  con- 
descending goodness,  of  Jehovah.  His  all- 
comprehending  wisdom,  in  conforming  so 
accurately  and  so  minutely  the  type  to  the 
event,  though  the  former  was  established 
long,  long  before  the  latter  existed.  Many 
ages  before  the  Desire  of  Nations  appeared, 
his  picture  was  drawn,  was  presented  to 
public  view,  and  is  now  foimd  to  correspond 
in  every  feature  with  the  illustrious  original. 
What  hand  could  be  equal  to  such  a  task, 
but  only  the  hand  of  an  omniscient  limner? 
His  condescending  goodness,  in  adapting  the 
tenor  of  his  revelation  to  the  state  of  his 
people ;  "  speaking  unto  them  even  as  unto 
babes."  (1  Cor.  iii.  1.)  not  by  naked  pre- 
cepts, or  ab.stracted  truths,  but  by  earthly 
similitudes,-!-  and  (if  I  may  so  express  my- 
self) by  embodied  instructions,  such  as  were 
level  to  their  low  capacities,  and  calculated 
to  affect  their  dull  apprehensions. 

The  institutions  to  which  you  hint  were 
undoubtedly  mean  and  trifling,  if  considered 
in  themselves.  Accordingly,  their  wise  and 
majestic  author  cautions  his  people  against 
such  erroneous  and  unworthy  notions.  "  I 
spake  not  unto  your  fathers,  nor  commanded 
them,  in  the  day  that  I  brought  them  out  of 
the  land  of  Egypt,  concerning  burnt-offer- 
ings or  saciifices,"  (Jer.  vii.  22.)  "  It  was 
not  my  design  that  they  should  acquiesce  in 


*  St.  Paul  calls  the  church  of  those  times  "  nepios." 
an  infant,  or  babe.  Gal.  iv.  1,  3.  And  the  ceremonial 
institutions  have  been  styled,  with  as  much  truth  as 
ingenuity,  evangelium  elemenlare  et  pra^liminare. 

T  This  seems  to  be  our  Lord's  meaning,  when  he 
says  to  Nicodemus,  "if  I  have  told  you  earthly 
things."  He  had  been  treating  of  that  internal  spiri- 
tual renovation,  which  is  the  root  and  .spring  of  all 
holiness.  He  had  been  speaking  of  that  Divine 
Spirit,  whose  gracious  and  almighty  agency  produces 
this  desirable  change.  The  nature  of  the  former 
was  represented,  under  the  similitude  of  a  birth,  by 
which  we  enter  upon  a  new  state,  form  new  ideas, 
and  habituate  ourselves  to  new  practices,  pleasures, 
pursuits.  The  operations  of  the  latter  were  des- 
criljed,  by  the  common  and  well  known  properties  of 
the  wind.  This  he  mentions,  as  a  plain  and  fami- 
liar method  of  teaching :  this  he  opposes  to  telling 
him  of  heavenly  things;  or  delivering  refined  and 
exalted  truths,  not  accommodated  to  the  capacity, 
not  brought  within  the  compass  of  an  infantile  un- 
derstanding, by  an  assimilation  to  sensible  object*. 
John  iii,  12. 


the  shadow,  and  neglect  the  substance.  1 
never  intended  that  they  should  rest  in  the 
porch,  but  pass  through  these  ordinances  to 
much  sublimer  things.  Christ  and  spiritual 
blessings  were  principally  in  my  view ;  to 
which  all  the  Mosaical  usages  were  relative, 
subser\aent,  and  one  continual  manuduction. " 
Considered  in  this  light,  as  bearing  a  refer- 
ence to  the  ever-blessed  Mediator,  as  em- 
blems of  his  person  and  pledges  of  his  grace, 
they  acquire  a  real  magnificence,  and  convey 
the  most  salutaiy  lessons. 

The  blood  put  upon  the  tip  of  the  ear, 
and  thumb  of  the  hand,  denotes  oiu"  personal 
application  of  the  death  of  Christ ;  without 
which  all  its  virtue,  though  boundless  and 
inconceivable,  will  profit  us  nothing. 
Those  particular  parts  of  the  body  may  sig- 
nify the  perceptive  and  executive  faculties  ; 
in  both  which  we  offend,  and  for  both  which 
we  need  the  great  propitiation.  Of  the  two 
birds  you  mention,  one  was  to  be  killed,  the 
other  was  to  fly  away,  after  it  had  been  dip- 
ped in  the  blood  of  its  fellow.  Thus  the 
Lord  Jesus  was  crucified  for  our  sins  ;  and 
we  being  washed  in  his  blood,  being  inter- 
ested in  the  atonement  of  our  holy  victim 
and  elder  brother,  are  acquitted  from  guilt, 
and  escape  condemnation.  Concerning  the 
paschal  lamb,  it  was  particularly  enjoined, 
That  the  flesh  should  not  be  eaten  raw,  nor 
sodden  with  water,  but  roasted  with  fire,  and 
of  every  ofl^ering  from  the  herd  or  from  the 
flock,  the  fat  and  tlie  inwards  were,  by  an 
express  command  of  God,  delivered  up  to 
the  devouring  flame.  All  this  was  an  em- 
blem of  that  tremendous  indignation,  which 
"  is  poured  out  like  fire,"(Nah.  i.  6.)  which 
seized  our  immaciflate  Sacrifice,  that  it 
might  spare  polluted  sinners  ;  and  which 
must  have  consumed  utterly  any  mediator, 
who  was  less  than  infinite,  or  other  than  di- 
vine. 

Had  you  beheld  our  renowned  Newton 
blowing  up  with  great  assiduity  and  attention, 
his  little  watery  visicles  into  the  air,  you 
would  perhaps,  have  despised  the  venerable 
philosopher,  and  have  thought  him  little  bet- 
ter than  a  hoary  idiot.  But  when  you  was 
told,  that  in  every  one  of  these  volatile  soapy 
bubbles  he  discovered  the  beauteous  colours 
of  the  rainbow,  and  from  this  seemingly  child- 
ish experiment  he  explained  the  nature  of 
that  wonderful  arch  ;  you  would  then  en- 
tertain a  different  notion,  both  of  the  man 
and  of  his  employ.  So  when  you  discern 
the  blessed  Jesus  looking  forth  at  these  win- 
dows, and  showing  himself  through  these 
lattices  of  the  Jewish  economy,   you  will. 


»  Cant.  ii.  0.  The  word,  in  the  first  edition,  is 
■Miourishing  through."  It  was  taken  from  the  He- 
brew, without  consiilting  the  English  i;ible,  and  is  a 

literal  translation  of  yiUQ-  Which  signifies  more 
than  barely  showing  himself  with  lustre  and  beauiy  ; 
like  a  delicate  flower,  in  its  blooming  state  and  glossy 


DIALOGUE  III. 


178 


I  liope,  conct'ive  a  hii^lier  opinion  of  tlicin, 
1111(1  derive  richer  advantage  tVoiii  tliein. 

Ther.  There  are  several  persons,  as  well 
as  ritual  observances,  of  a  very  singular 
character,  mentioned  in  the  Mosaic  law. 
The  leper,  for  instance,  the  Nazarite,  with 
others  of  the  same  antiquated  and  grotesque 
stamp  ;  which  seem,  to  me  at  least,  so  many 
unmeaning  narratives,  that  convey  no  man- 
ner of  edification  to  readers  in  the  present 
age.  I  have  frequently  had  an  inclination, 
and  now  I  have  a  proper  opportunity,  to  ask 
your  opinion  upon  these  points. 

Aap.  I  thank  you,  Theron,  for  giving  me 
the  hint.  What  you  propose  is  by  no  means 
foreign  to  the  topic  of  our  discourse.  Those 
persons  were  truly  remarkable  ;  neither  are 
the  pecidiarities  of  their  case  recorded  in 
vain.  They  picture  out,  in  dismal  and  de- 
lightful colours,  the  sinner  and  the  Saviour. 
To  know  ourselves,  and  to  know  Christ,  is 
true  wisdom ;  is  indeed  the  consmnmation  of 
all  knowledge.  Here  we  have  a  lecture  of 
liieroglyphical  instruction,  on  both  those  im- 
portant subjects. 

The  leper  was  an  emblem  of  a  sinner  ; 
(see  Levit.  chap.  xiii.  xiv. )  His  disease 
extremely  afflictive  to  himself,  and  intoler- 
ably loathsome  to  others.  Sin  likewise  is 
the  sorest  of  all  miseries  to  the  wretch  who 
commits  it ;  and  most  detestably  odious  to 
the  God  who  forbids  it.  The  leper  \\as 
secluded  from  the  benefits  of  society,  and  all 
communication  with  his  fellow  citizens. 
The  sinner  also,  while  impenitent  and  un- 
pardoned, is  an  alien  from  the  common- 
wealth of  Israel,  (Eph.  ii.  12.)  without  any 
enjoyment  of  the  comforts,  or  any  interest 
in  the  privileges  of  the  gospel.  If  he  dies 
in  this  condition,  he  must  be  for  ever  shut 
out  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;  for  ever 
cut  off  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord. 

The  contagion  was  sometimes  so  pesti- 
lent, that  it  not  only  tainted  the  clothes  of 
the  diseased,  but  spread  itself  over  the 
walls  of  his  house,  and  infected  the  timber 
of  the  beams.  It  was  sometimes  so  inve- 
terate, that  it  could  be  eradicated  no  other 
way  but  by  burning  the  garment,  and  demo- 
lishing the  building.  Does  not  this  give  us 
a  clear,  but  melancholy  view,  of  original 
corruption  ?  which  has  transfused  its  poison 
through  all  the  faculties  of  the  soul,  and  all 
the  members  of  the  body  ;  nor  will  ever  be 
entirely  expelled,  till  death  releases  the  for- 
mer, and  consigns  the  latter  to  the  dust. 

What  could  cure  this  terrible  distemper, 
even  in  its  mildest  state  ?  Not  all  the  balm 
of  (iilead  ;  not  aU  the  drugs  on  a  thousand 
hillsi ;  nothing  but  the  consecrated  oil,  and 


colours:  yet  nourishing  through  lattices;  manifest- 
ing hiiiiseil' not  lornplelcly,  but  in  part;  concealing 
some,  wlule  he  reveals  much,  of  his  mediatorial 
glory. 


sacrificial  blood  duly  applied  by  the  High- 
priest.  And  what  can  heal  the  disorders 
of  our  fallen  souls  ?  so  far  heal  them  as  to 
purge  away  their  guilt,  and  subdue  the  pre- 
valence of  their  iniquities  ?  No  acts  of  mor- 
tification, no  vigilance,  nor  any  efforts  of 
our  own  ;  nothing  but  the  atoning  death,  and 
sanctifying  sjjirit  of  the  blessed  Jesus.  The 
malignity  and  virulence  of  this  plague  of  the 
heart,  are  absolutely  incorrigible  by  any 
other  expedient.  But,  blessed  be  divine 
grace,  this  remedy,  provided  by  oiu-  great 
High-])riest,  and  administered  by  our  great 
Physician,  is  sovereign,  and  never  fails. 

The  case  of  the  Nazarites,  (see  Numb, 
chap.  vi. )  was  the  very  reverse  of  the  state 
of  the  lepers.  "  Her  Nazarites,"  .Teremiah 
says,  "  were  purer  than  snow,  they  were 
whiter  than  milk,  they  were  more  ruddy  in 
body  than  rubies,  their  polishing  was  of  sap- 
phires ;  (Lam.  iv.  7.)  A  faint  represen- 
tation of  the  only  begotten  Son,  who  is  the 
fairest  among  ten  thousand  ;  the  brightness 
of  his  P^ither's  glory,  and  the  express  image 
of  his  person  ?  both  God  and  man  in  one  sa- 
cred, wonderful,  adorable  Saviour.  They, 
during  the  time  of  their  separation,  abstained 
from  wine,  withdrew  from  secular  business, 
avoided  every  kind  of  pollution  ;  and  de- 
dicated themselves  in  an  especial  manner,  to 
the  service  of  God.  A  type  of  that  glorious 
Nazarite,  who  was  separated  for  a  season 
from  the  fruitions  of  heaven  ;  who  was 
holy,  harmless,  and  undefiled,  both  in  his 
nature  and  all  his  conversation,  who  sancti- 
fied himself,  and  devoted  his  life  and  labours, 
his  soul  and  body,  to  the  glory  of  his  Fa- 
ther, and  the  redemption  of  his  peojile.  The 
Nazarites,  even  when  they  had  discharged 
their  vow,  and  woe  CGremonially  clean,  yet 
were  obliged  to  offer  a  sin-offering,  a  burnt- 
offering,  and  a  peace-offering.  So  the  great 
Redeemer,  though  he  had  perfectly  obeyed 
all  the  preceptive  parts  of  the  divine  law, 
yet  was  required  to  offer  up  a  sacrifice — 
even  the  incomparably  precious  sacrifice  of 
himself — in  order  to  consummate  the  work 
of  our  salvation. 

Ther.  Have  you  a  sufficient  warrant  for 
this  strain  of  interpretation  ?  Is  it  sound,  is 
it  rational,  or  conformable  to  any  authentic 
standard  of  scri[)tiiral  exposition  ?  Me- 
thinks  it  looks  more  like  the  child  of  fancy, 
than  the  ofl^spring  of  judgment  ;  more  like 
the  sally  of  a  sportive  imagination,  thiui  the 
result  of  a  sober  disquisition. 

You  cannot  be  ignorant,  Aspasio,  how 
the  riding  jiassion  tinctures  the  whole  con- 
duct. Hence  it  is,  I  apprehend,  that  your 
religious  inamoratos  find  heavenly  beauties, 
where  Scriptmc  intended  no  more  than  na- 
tural truths.  Hence  it  is  that  they  turn 
plain  facts  into  |)rofound  figures,  and  alle- 
gorize common  sense  into  jiious  absurdity. 


174 


THERON  AND  ASAPSlO. 


Have  you  never  eeen  the  mystic  interpreta- 
tions of  some  ancient,  and,  I  may  add,  some 
modern  divines?  The  honesty  of  their  design 
IS  transparent,  and  the  piety  of  tlieir  lives  is 
unquestionable  ;  otherwise  we  should  be 
tempted  to  suspect,  that  they  meant  to  bur 
Jesque  the  Scriptures,  and  disgrace  their 
Author. 

Who  can  ever  persuade  himself,  that  the 
supremely  wise  God  would  send  us  to  search 
for  a  body  of  divinity  in  a  bundle  of  rods  ? 
or  set  us  to  spin  all  the  mysteries  of  Chris- 
tianity from  a  few  fleeces  of  wool,  ring- 
streaked,  speckled,  and  spotted  ?  ( Gen. 
xxxi. )  Thus  to  expound  the  Scriptures,  is 
not  to  open  them  clearly,  and  apply  them 
judiciously,  but  rather  to  whip  them  into 
froth. • 

Asp.  We  have  the  authority  of  our 
Lord  himself,  who  has  informed  us,  that 
the  brazen  serpent  lifted  up  in  the  wilder- 
ness (John  iii,  14.)  was  figurative  of  his 
own  suspension  and  death  on  the  cross  : 
that  the  temple  built  on  mount  Sion  was 
typical  of  his  immaculate  body,  in  which 
dwelt  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead, 
(John  ii.  19.  21;  Col.  ii.  9:)  that  the 
prophet  Jonah,  lodged  in  the  belly  of  the 
whale,  and  discharged  from  that  strange  con- 
finement on  the  third  day,  (Matth.  xii.  39, 
40. )  was  an  emblem  of  his  own  descending 
into  the  gi'ave,  and  rising  again  before  his 
flesh  saw  corruption. 

We  have  also  the  testimony  and  the  prac- 
tice of  the  chiefest  of  the  apostles,  for  our 
warrant.  He  assures  us,  that  the  rock 
smitten  by  Moses  had  a  reference  to  Christ, 
(1  Cor.  X.  4  ;)  who  was  wounded  for  our 
sins,  and  is  the  foundation  of  our  hopes : 
that  the  waters  issuing  at  the  stroke,  were 
significative  of  those  spiritual  blessings  which 
flow  from  a  crucified  Saviour :  that  as  the 
former  followed  the  sons  of  Jacob  through 
all  the  circumvolutions  of  their  tedious 
journey,  the  latter  accompany  the  disciples  of 
Jesus  in  every  stage  of  their  earthly  pilgri- 
mage. Let  the  great  teacher  of  the  Gen- 
tiles be  our  expositor,  and  we  shall  see  the 
veil  of  the  temple  dignified  with  a  sigiiifican- 
cy,  richer  fiir  than  its  costly  materials  and 
curious  workmanship.  Its  silk  and  em- 
broidery exhibit  to  the  eye  of  faith  the  pm-e 
and  spotless  flesh  of  Christ,  (Heb.  x.  20.) 
As,  by  rending  the  material  veil,  the  holy 
of  holies  became  visible  and  accessible  ;  so, 
by  piercing  the  body,  and  spillnig  the  blood 
of  Christ,  the  God  of  heaven  was  manifest- 
ed, and  the  way  to  heaven  opened. 

Every  reader  must  admire  those  divided 
waves,  which  instead  of  overwhelming  the 
Israelites  with  a  resistless  deluge,  stood 
like  a  Wiill  of  defence  on  their  righj  liand 


«  Luther  iisf-il  to  call  aurh  f?.r-fetched  and  unr.atii- 

rai  alU'jjovifs   '..^mnani  s-'rijiurx'." 


and  on  their  left,  as  they  marched  through 
the  depths  of  the  sea.  Every  reader  must 
admire  that  suspended  cloud,  which  spre'ad 
itself  like  a  spacious  canopy  over  the  hosts 
of  Israel,  and  screened  them  from  the  an- 
noying sunbeams  as  they  passed  through  the 
sultry  desert.  Our  admiration  must  be 
heightened  when  we  find  that  which  was  a 
cloud  by  day  becoming  a  pillar  of  fire  by 
night,  and  illuminating  their  camp  with  the 
most  amazing  as  well  as  the  most  cheering 
splendour.  But  St.  Paul  discerned  a  greater 
glory,  and  a  deeper  design,  in  those  un- 
paralleled events.  The  people,  he  says, 
"  were  baptized  unto  Moses,  in  the  cloud 
and  in  the  sea,"  ( 1  Cor.  x.  2. )  These  sym- 
bolically represented  the  baptism  of  water 
and  of  fire  ;  or  the  application  of  Christ's 
blood  to  oiu"  souls,  and  the  efficacy  of  his 
spirit  on  our  hearts: — in  the  former  of 
which  consists  our  justification ;  from  the 
latter  of  which  proceeds  our  sanctification. 

I  fear  you  will  think  my  discourse  some- 
what like  the  journey  just  now  mentioned  ; 
but  I  must  not  wholly  omit  the  epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  which  is  the  most  unexcep- 
tionable vindication,  as  well  as  the  faultless 
model,  of  allegorical  exposition.  It  is  de- 
lightful to  observe  what  propriety  of  address 
the  inspired  writer  uses.  He  speaks  to 
the  Jews  in  their  own  way  ;  alludes  to  their 
own  usages,  ordinances,  and  ceremonies  ; 
proves  them  to  be  types  of,  and  guides  to,  a 
more  clear,  a  more  benign,  and  in  all  re- 
spects a  more  excellent  economy.  •  More 
particularly  he  displays  the  transcendent 
superiority  of  Christ  and  his  gifts,  even  to 
those  persons  and  privileges  wliich  they  held 
in  the  highest  esteem.  These,  like  the 
moniing  star,  were  introductory  to,  yet  to- 
tally eclipsed  by,  the  rising  sun. 

They  had  exalted  apprehensions  of  the 
angelic  excellencies.  The  apostle  therefore 
celebrates  the  Redeemer  as  the  Lord  whom 
angels  obey,  as  the  God  whom  angels  adore. 
They  always  reckoned  Moses  to  be  the 
first  favourite  of  heaven,  and  chief  among 
the  children  of  men.  He  lets  them  know, 
that  Moses,  with  all  his  extraordinary  en- 
dowments, was  but  a  servant  in  the  house 
of  Jesus.     It  was  his  greatest  honour,  to 


*  He  styles  the  legal  oblations,  and  the  whole  ser- 
vice of  the  Jewish  sanctuary,  "  the  example  and  sha- 
dow of  heavenly  things;"  or  of  Christ  Jesus;  and 
evanRelical  worship,  and  spiritual  blessings,  Heb.  viii. 
,5. — The  original  signifies  "  the  pattern  ;  "  somewhat 
like  the  strokes  pencilled  out  upon  a  peace  of  fine 
linen:  which  presents  you  with  the  figure  of  sprigs  of 
leaves,  and  of  flowers  ;  but  have  not  yet  received  their 
splendid  colours,  their  curious  shades,  and  beautiful 
enrichments,  f.om  the  labours  of  tlie  needle. — The 
o.iginal  signifies  likewise  "a  shadowy  representa- 
tion ;  which  gives  you  some  dim  and  imperfect  idea 
of  the  body ;  but  not  the  fine  features,  not  the  dis- 
tinguishing air,  none  of  those  living  graces  which 
adorn  the  real  person.  Vet  both  the  pattern  and  the 
shadow  lead  our  minds  to  something  nobler  than 
themselves.  The  pattern,  to  that  wliich  complttes 
il;  the  shadow  to  that  wliich  occasions  it. 


DIALOGUE  III. 


175 


minister  unto  this  Prince  of  Poace.  As 
tlie  priesthood  and  saerilices  were  some  of 
their  distinguishing  privileges,  lie  shows  the 
pre-eminence  of  Christ's  office  to  all  the 
Aaronic  orders.  He  demonstrates  the  ex- 
tensive and  everlasting  efficacy  of  his  one 
atonement,  in  preference  to  every  form,  and 
the  whole  series  of  Levitical  oblations. 

Ther.  Thus  inteqiretated,  I  must  ac- 
knowledge, the  book  of  Levitical  ceremonies 
is  significant  and  edifying ;  whereas,  ab- 
stracted from  this  evangelical  improvement, 
nothing  can  be  more  empty  and  jejune.  I 
once  thought,  that  to  peruse  those  obsolete 
canons,  was  like  sitting  down  to  an  enter- 
tainment of  diy  bones.  But,  if  such  be 
their  import,  they  may  yield  marrow  and 
fatness  to  tlie  attentive  mind. 

Due  care,  however,  should  be  taken,  not 
to  suppose  a  type  where  there  is  no  apparent 
foundation  of  analogy  in  the  thing  itself,  or 
no  hint  of  this  nature  given  us  by  the  un- 
erring Spirit ;  lest,  instead  of  being  guided 
by  truth,  we  are  bewildered  by  fancy.  And, 
when  either  or  both  these  handles  present 
themselves,  I  think  we  should  beware  of 
straining  the  subject  beyond  the  bounds  of 
a  jiist  and  reasonable  comparison  ;  lest,  in- 
stead of  following  the  clue,  we  stretch  it  till 
it  breaks.  If  the  first  caution  is  not  obser- 
ved, the  sense  of  Scripture  will  lie  so  deep, 
or  be  removed  to  such  a  distance,  that  none 
but  persons  of  the  most  acute  discernment 
can  find  it,  or  none  but  persons  of  the  most 
excursive  imagination  can  reach  it.  If  the 
second  is  not  regarded,  the  meaning  of  those 
divine  volumes  will  become  so  vague  and 
volatile,  that  there  will  hardly  remain  any 
possibility  of  ascertaining  or  fixing  it. 

Asp.  As  to  the  expedience  and  necessi- 
ty of  these  cautionarj'  limitations,  I  have 
the  pleasure  of  agreeing  entirely  with  my 
friend.  Let  our  fancy  submit  to  the  reins  of 
judgment,  otherwise  her  excursions  will  be 
wild  and  lawless.  Let  our  zeal  borrow  the 
eyes  of  discretion,  otherwise  her  efifiorts  will 
be  blind  and  extravagant.  And  let  all,  thus 
tempered,  thus  regtdated,  be  under  the  influ- 
ence of  enlighteninggrace.  Then  to  spiritual- 
ize the  ancient  Scriptures,  will  be  to  convert 
the  stones  of  the  sanctuaiy  into  the  jewels  of 
a  crown  ;  and  to  fetch,  not  water  only,  but 
milk  and  honey,  from  the  tlinty  rock. 

Then,  how  pleasing  must  it  be,  as  well 
as  instnu'tive,  to  discover  the  blessed  Jesus, 
in  all  the  institutions  of  the  Mosaic  law  ! 
To  see  liis  incarnation  prefigured  by  the 
feast  of  tabernacles,  when  the  Israelites 
were  to  relinquish  their  houses,  and  lodge 
in  booths.  (Lev.  xxiii.  34.  40.  42.)  Even 
as  the  son  of  (Jod  left  the  bosom  of  his 
P^ather,  and  the  seats  of  bliss,  to  inhabit 
a  cottage  of  clay,  and  sojourn  in  a  viile  of 
tears.  To  .^ee  our  spotless  and  divine  vic- 
tim  tyi)i(M!'y  sl:i'ii  at  the  joyful  solemnity 


of  the  passover,  and  the  anniversary  fast  of 
e\-]jiation.  To  see  his  death,  that  inesti- 
mable ransom  for  our  souls,  presented  to 
om-  faith,  in  every  morning  and  evening  sa- 
crifice, (Exod.  xxix.  38,  39.)  his  interces- 
sion, that  prevailing  recommendation  of  our 
prayers,  most  sweetly  expressed  by  the  rich 
incense  which  attended  the  sacred  rite.  To 
see  the  various  methods  of  puritication  ; 
some  pointing  at  the  fountain  for  sin  and 
for  uncleanness,  opened  in  our  Redeemer's 
bleeding  heart,  (Exod  xxix.  4  ;  Psal,  li.  7.) 
others  referring  to  those  sanctifying  opera- 
tions of  the  Spirit,  which  act  as  a  refiner's 
fire,  or  as  a  fuller's  soap,  (Numb.  xxxi.  23  ; 
Isa.  iv.  4.)  To  see,  in  the  city  of  refuge, 
that  perfect  seciu-ity  which  Christ's  meri- 
torious sufTerings  in  our  stead,  afford  to 
every  penitent  and  believing  sinner,  (Numb, 
xxxv.  11,12.) 

Was  it  so  very  affecting  and  so  very  encour- 
aging to  ..^neas,  when  hebeheld  the  storyof 
the  Trojan  heroes  pictured  upon  the  walls  of 
the  Carthaginian  temple?*  How  much 
greater  encouragement  and  joy  must  arise 
in  the  Christian's  breast,  when  he  perceives 
the  amiable  lineaments  of  his  everlasting 
friend  pourtrayed  in  all  the  peculiarities  of 
the  Jewish  worship,  and  in  the  most  distin- 
guishing events  of  the  .Jewish  liistory  !  Thia 
must  highly  ennoble  the  Bible,  and  inexpres- 
sibly endear  it  to  our  affections.  This 
spreads  lustre,  Ufe,  and  glory,  through  every 
page  of  that  blessed  book.  And  though  I 
would  forbear  indulging  what  might  be  call- 
ed a  pious  wantonness  of  imagination  ;  yet 
I  should  much  rather  choose,  in  expounding 
the  Scriptures,  to  ramble  with  Augustine, 
than  err  with  Grotius,  see,  or  tliink  I  see,  my 
Saviour,  even  where  it  may  not  perhai)s  be 
easy  to  make  out  the  traces  of  liis  dignity  to 
the  satisfaction  of  a  rigorous  inquirer  ;  ra- 
ther than  shut  my  eyes  upon  the  display 
of  his  perfections  when  they  beam  forth  with 
the  most  inviting  beauty. 

Ther.  How  soon  is  this  walk  finished  ! 
How  imperceptibly  has  the  time  stole  away  ! 
These  garden-gates  I  always  used  to  approach 
with  a  particular  complacency.  They  seem- 
ed to  afford  me  a  welcome  retreat  from  the 
impertinence  and  vanity  of  the  world.  Now, 
methinks,  I  enter  them  with  reluctance, 
because  they  are  likely  to  put  a  j)eriod  to 
this  agreeable  conversation.  However,  as 
my  Aspasio  enters  with  me,  I  am  recon- 
ciled, I  am  satisfied.  It  will  be  in  his 
power  to  restore  the  pleasure  which  must 
now  be  interrui)ted.  And  tliis  is  what  I  shall 
ere  long  request  ;  because  I  have  not  sj)oke 
my  whole  mind  ui)on    the  present  subject. 

Asp.  Whenever  you  think  proper,  The- 
ron.  This  is  to  me  a  favourite  subject  ; 
and   not  to   me  only,  but   to  incomi)arably 


Viig.  /Fii.  1. 


176 


THERON  AND   ASPASIO. 


l)etter  judges.  The  man  who  had  been 
caught  up  into  the  third  heavens,  and  seen 
the  visions  of  God,  "  determined  to  know 
nothing  but  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  cracifi- 
ed,"  (1  Cor.  ii.  2.)  At  the  gi-andest  as- 
sembly that  ever  was  convened  on  earth, 
this  furnished  the  principal,  if  not  the  only 
topic  of  conversation.  And  in  that  world 
where  the  voice  of  joy  and  thanksgiving  is 
perpetually  heard,  this  constitutes  the  biu-- 
den  of  the  -song,  "  Thou  wast  slain,  and 
hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  thy  blood," 
(Rev.  V.  9.) 


DIALOGUE  IV. 

Titer.  I  MUST  now  desire  my  Aspasio  to 
inform  me,  what  that  grand  assembly  was, 
(which  he  mentioned  in  the  close  of  our 
last  discourse),  and  where  convened  ? 

Asp.  Can  you  not  guess,  Theron  ? — Was 
it  in  the  plains  of  Thessaly,  when  Xerxes 
drew  together  the  forces  of  more  than  half 
the  known  world,  and  appeared  at  the  head 
of  all  the  potentates  of  the  east  ?  Was  it  in 
the  Roman  forum,  when  the  Senators  were 
assembled  in  their  robes,  and  the  barbarians 
took  them  for  a  spiod  of  gods  ?  No  :  it 
was  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration,  where 
the  Son  of  the  true  God,  the  Lord  of  eter- 
nal glorj',  shone  forth  in  some  of  his  celes- 
tial and  native  splendour;  with  garments 
white  as  the  snow,*  and  a  countenance 
bright  as  the  sim  :  where  he  conversed  with 
two  of  his  most  distingui.shed  saints,  just 
rome  down  from  the  regions  of  bliss  and 
immortality ;  with  Moses  the  great  deliver- 
er of  the  law,  and  with  Elijah  the  resolute 
restorer  of  its  honours  :  where  he  was  at- 
tended by  three  of  his  principal  ambassa- 
dors, who  were  to  be  the  reformers  of  man- 
kind, and  the  lights  of  the  world. 

This,  I  think,  is  the  most  venerable  and 
august  assembly  that  the  annals  of  history 
have  recorded.  And  what  was  the  topic 
of  conversation  among  these  illustrious 
personages  ?  Not  the  affairs  of  state,  nor 
the  revolutions  of  empires ;  not  the  curious 
refinements  of  literature,  nor  the  wonderful 
discoveries  of  philosophy;  but  the  igno- 
minious and  bloody  exitf  which  the  divine 


*  Mark  ix.  3.  The  evangelist's  description  is,  like 
tlie  scene,  remarkably  bright,  and  the  gradation  of 
his  images  is  almost  as  worthy  of  observation  as 
the  memorable  fact.  'J'he  garments  were  white — ex- 
ceeding white — white  as  the  snow — whiter  than  any 
fuller  on  earth  could  make  them  :  surpassing  all  the 
works  of  art,  equalling  the  first  and  finest  productions 
of  nature.  Nay,  so  great  was  the  lustre,  that  it  glis- 
tered like  the  lightning,  and  even  dazzled  the  sight. 

t  Does  not  this  very  delicately,  yet  very  strongly 
intimate,  that  the  sufferings  and  dea'th  of  Christ  were 
the  principal  end  of  the  Mosaic  institutions,  and  the 
principal  subject  of  the  prophetic  teachings  ?  For  is 
it  not  natural  to  suppose,  that  Moses  and  Elijah  in- 
tended, when  ministering  on  earth,  that  very  thing, 
which  their  conversation  dwelt  upon,  when  they  de- 
scended from  heaven  ? 


Jesus  was  soon  to  make  at  Jerusalem.  This 
circimistance,  methinks,  should  strongly  re- 
commend the  subject  to  our  frequent  dis- 
coiu-se,  even  though  it  was  less  eminent 
for  intrinsic  dignity,  and  comfortable  import. 

Talking  in  this  manner,  they  arrive  at 
the  park  ;  which  the  moment  you  enter, 
fills  the  view  with  its  bold,  enlarged,  and 
magnificent  sweep.  It  was  diversified  wdth 
level  and  rising  ground.  Here  scooped 
into  mimic  amphitheatres,  with  the  deer 
pendent  on  the  little  summit,  or  shooting 
down  the  easy  precipice  ;  there  raised  into 
gentle  hillocks,  some  of  which  were  cano- 
pied with  a  large  spreading,  solitary  oak, 
others  were  tufted  mth  a  cluster  of  taper- 
ing and  verdant  elms.  Two  or  three  cas- 
cades, gleaming  from  afar,  as  they  poured 
along  the  slanting  rock  or  the  grassy  slope, 
gave  a  pleasing  variation  to  the  prospect ; 
wliile  they  startled  the  timorous  inexper- 
ienced fawns  with  their  foaming  current 
and  watery  roar.  Grandeiu"  and  simplicity 
seemed  to  be  the  genius  of  the  })lace. 
Every  thing  breathed  an  air  of  noble  negli- 
gence, and  artless  majesty. 

In  the  centre  of  all  rose  a  cm'ious  roman- 
tic mount.  Its  form  was  exactly  round, 
somewhat  like  a  sugar-loaf,  lopt  off  a  little 
below  the  point.  Not  coeval  with  natin-e, 
but  the  work  of  human  industry.  Thrown 
up,  it  is  supposed,  in  those  perilous  times, 
when  Britain  was  alarmed  by  foreign  in- 
vasions, or  bled  with  intestine  wounds.  It 
was  covered,  all  around,  with  alder  shrubs ; 
whose  ranks,  gradually  arising,  and  spread- 
ing, shade  above  shade,  composed  a  kind  of 
woody  theatre,  through  which  were  struck 
two  or  three  spiral  walks,  leading,  by  a 
gentle  ascent,  and  under  embowering  ver-. 
dure  to  the  summit.  At  proper  intervals, 
and  on  every  side  of  the  hill,  were  formed 
little  arborets  with  apertures  cut  through 
boughs  to  admit  a  prospect  of  the  country. 
In  one  or  other  of  these  leafy  boxes  you 
command,  at  eveiy  hoiu-  of  the  day,  either 
the  enlivening  sim,  or  the  refreshing  shade. 
All  along  the  circling  avenues,  and  all  a- 
round  the  beauteous  rests,  sprimg  daffodils, 
primroses,  and  violets ;  which,  mingling 
with  hyacinths  and  cowslips,  composed 
many  a  charming  piece  of  natiu^al  mosaic. 

How  agreeable,  as  they  climb  and  wind 
themselves  round  the  hill,  to  reflect  on  the 
happy  change  which  has  now  taken  place  ! 
Where  steely  helmets  gleamed,  or  brazen 
shields  clashed,  the  goldfinches  twitter 
their  loves,  and  display  their  painted  plinnes. 
The  dens  of  rapine,  or  the  horrid  haunts  of 
bloodshed,  are  become  the  retreats  of  calm 
contemplation,  and  friendly  converse.  In 
yonder  lower  spaces,  where  the  armed 
troops  were  wont  to  patrole,  from  whence 
they  made    excursions  to  ravage  the  villages 


DIALOGUE 

or  terrify  the  swains,  the  fallow-deer  trip 
lightly  or  the  full-headed  stags  stand  at  bay. 
From  a  small  eminenoe,  but  at  a  consid- 
erable distance,  gushed  a  couple  of  springs, 
which,  rambling  through  a  grove,  lost  one 
another  in  the  shady  labyrinth.  Emerging 
at  length  from  the  gloom,  they  approached 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  fell  into  embraces  at 
the  foot  of  this  hill.  They  rolled,  in  ami- 
cable conjunction  along  the  pebbly  channel 
which  encircles  its  basis,  and  added  their 
sober  melody  to  the  sprightly  warbling  of 
the  birds.  Flowing  oif  in  one  common 
stream,  they  formed  the  fine  pieces  of  water 
which  beautified  the  park.  From  thence 
they  stole  into  the  meadow,  and  widened  into 
a  river.  There,  enamoured,  as  it  were  \vith 
each  other,  they  glide  by  wealthy  towns,  and 
sweep  through  tiowcry  vales  ;  regardless  of 
the  blooming  toys  which  deck  the  one,  and 
of  the  noisy  crowds  which  throng  the 
other. 

So,  said  Aspasio,  may  Theron  and  his 
Selina,  pleasing  and  pleased  with  each  other, 
pass  through  the  busy  and  the  amusing 
scenes  of  life  ;  neither  captivated  by  the 
one,  nor  anxious  for  the  other.  With  such 
harmonious  agreement,  and  indissoluble 
union,  may  they  pursue  the  coiu-se  marked 
out  by  Providence,  their  happiness  increas- 
ing, and  their  usefulness  enlarging,  as  they 
draw  nearer  the  Ocean  of  all  good  !  Then, 
parted  by  a  gentle  stroke  of  fate,  like  the 
waters  of  some  ample  stream  severed  by 
the  piers  of  an  intervening  bridge,  may 
they  speedily  reunite !  reunite  in  consum- 
mate bliss,  and  never  be  separated  more  ! 

Titer.  I  thank  you,  Aspasio,  for  your 
affectionate  compliment.  Nor  can  I  wish 
you,  by  way  of  return,  a  greater  recom- 
pence,  than  the  contLimal  exercise  of  such 
a  benovolent  temper.  For  to  exercise  be- 
nevolence, is  to  enjoy  the  most  refined  and 
exalted  pleasure ;  such  as  makes  the  near- 
est approaches  to  the  felicity  of  the  Eternal 
Mind,  who,  as  the  Scripture  most  beauti- 
fully speaks,  "  has  pleasure  in  the  prosper- 
ity of  his  servants." 

But  while  we  are  seated  on  this  mount, 
our  situation  reminds  us  of  (what  you  just 
now  mentioned)  the  grand  conference  re- 
lating to  the  death  of  Christ — a  business 
for  which  you  have  indeed  accounted,  but 
in  a  manner  that  may  be  thought  not  the 
most  honourable  to  the  divine  attributes. 

Asp.  I  have  represented  it  as  a  ransom 
for  our  souls,  and  a  sacrifice  for  our  sins. 
If  you  disapprove  my  account,  be  pleased 
to  favour  me  with  your  own.  For  what 
puqjose,  according  to  your  opinion,  did  that 
ever-blessed  i)erson  die  ? 

Ther.  I'o  confirm  the  truth  of  his  doc- 
trine, and  leave  us  a  pattern  of  the  most 
perfect  resignation. 

Anp.   And  is  this  all  ?  Shall  we  thus  im- 


IV. 


177 


poverish  the  riches  of  gi-ace  ?  Was  this  no- 
tion defensible,  it  could  never  be  desirable. 
But  it  has  as  little  to  support  it  as  it  has 
to  recommend  it.  For,  upon  such  a  suppo- 
sition, where  is  the  difference  between  the 
death  of  Christ  and  the  death  of  the 
martyrs  ?  They  confirmed  the  truth  of 
the  gospel :  In  their  sufferings  was  obe- 
dience and  resignation,  the  same  in  quality, 
though  not  in  degree.  Upon  such  a  sup- 
position, what  benefit  could  the  ancient 
patriarchs  receive  from  the  Redeemer ; 
since  none  could  be  improved  by  the  exam- 
ple of  his  patience,  or  the  pattern  of  his 
obedience,  till  they  were  actually  exhibited, 
or  how  could  Christ  be  styled  "  the  Lamb 
slain  from  the  foundation  of  the  world  ?" 
(Rev.  xiii.  8.)  the  advantages  of  whose 
death  commenced  from  the  veiy  beginning, 
as  they  will  be  prolonged  even  to  the  end  of 
time. 

Not  to  depend  on  consequential  argu- 
ments, let  us  hear  the  express  declaration  of 
our  divine  Master  himself :  "  This  is  my 
blood,  \vhich  is  shed," — for  what  ?  To  give 
credibility  to  my  gospel,  or  yield  an  example 
of  entire  resignation  !  Rather — "  for  the  re- 
mission of  sins,"  (Matth.  xxvi.  28.)  Will  any 
one  attempt  to  make  the  remission  of  sins, 
and  the  proposal  of  a  pattern,  or  the  ratifica- 
tion of  a  doctrine,  synonymous  terms  ?  They 
who  can  torture  and  transmute  the  genuine 
sense  of  words  at  this  extraordinary  rate, 
may  metamorphose  any  expression  into  any 
meaning. 

If,  then,  we  would  consider  our  Lord's 
death  in  its  due  amplitude,  we  must  con- 
sider it  both  as  a  pattern  of  piety  and  as  a 
ransom  for  sinners  :  we  must  neither  sepa- 
rate nor  confound  these  very  distinct,  yet 
very  consistent  effects. 

Titer.  Is  it  not  inconsistent  with  the  ac- 
knowledged principles  of  justice,  that  the 
innocent  should  be  punished  instead  of  the 
offender  ? 

Asp.  If  the  innocent  person  has  an  ab- 
solute power  over  his  own  life,  willingly 
substitutes  himself  in  the  place  of  the  guilty, 
and  by  his  vicarious  sufferings  fully  answers 
all  the  purposes  of  a  righteous  government ; 
—in  this  case,  which  was  the  case  with  our 
Lord,  I  see  not  the  least  repugnancy  to  the 
rules  of  justice. 

The  Bible,  that  authentic  transcript  of 
the  counsels  of  heaven,  avows,  and  by 
avowing,  vindicates  the  practice,  "  The 
Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us 
all.*  When  all  we  like  sheep  had  gone 
astray,  and  were  exposed  to  the  stroke  of 
vengeance,  as  those  wandering  creatures  to 


*  Isa  liii.  6.  1^  i?''D9/l  matle  to  meet,  or 
fall  upon,  in  a  hostile  vindictive  manner;  with  a  design 
to  take  vengeance,  or  inflict  death;  asaH  aimed  man 
falls  u)ion  his  enemy,  or  a  fierce  lion  on  the  helpless 
iamb. 

M 


179^ 


TilERGN  AiiD  ASPASIO. 


t'he  nwenous  Leasts  ;  the  good  shepherd  in- 
terposed, and  the  jnst  God  made  that  ven- 
geance to  fall  upon  him,  which  must  other- 
wise have  been  executed  upon  us.  "  He 
suffered,"  says  another  inspired  writer,  "  the 
iust  for  the  unjust,"  (1  Pet.  iii-  18.)  that, 
by  expiating  our  guilt,  "he  might  bring  us 
to  God ;"  now  to  his  gracious  favour,  here- 
after to  his  blissiul  presence. 

You  will  permit  me  to  add  a  passage 
from  our  common  favourite,  Milton.  Be- 
cause it  is  no  less  beautiful  in  itself,  than 
it  is  pertinent  to  the  occasion  ;  must  please 
the  critic,  and  may  expound  the  apostle. 
Messiah,  pleading  in  behalf  of  fallen  man, 
thus  addresses  his  Almighty  Father : 


'  Man  dead  in  sins  and  lost, 


Atonement  for  himself,  or  offering  meet, 
(Indebted  and  undone !)  hath  none  to  bring. 
Behold  me  then  !  me  for  him  !  life  for  life 
I  offer.  On  me  let  thine  anger  fall. 
Account  me  m.an  :  I  for  his  sr.ke  will  leave 
Thy  bosom,  and  this  glory  next  to  thee 
Freely  put  off;  and  for  him  lastly  die 
Well-pleased  :  on  me  let  death  wreak  all  his  rage.' 
Milton,  b.  iii.  1.  £33. 


Ther.    The  fine  imagination  of  a  poet 
will  hardly   pass  for  a  decisive   argument. 
When    we    are    searching  after  truth,    we 
must  attend  to  the  dictates  of  reason,  not  I  viour,  or  in  all  the  writings  of  his  apostles, 
follow  the  vagaries  of  fancy.      And  reason,        They  speak  to  a  people  who  were  accus- 


unanimous  m  supposnig  ttiviir  vicarious  na- 
ture, so  also  are  the  Jewish  writers. 

Ther.  What  man  of  sense  pays  any  re- 
gard to  the  Jewish  writers  ?  Legendary  they 
are,  and  extravagant  to  the  last  degree. 
Dotards  I  might  call  them,  rather  than 
writers. 

Asp.  They  are,  I  believe,  extravagant 
enough  in  their  comments  upon  Scripture  ; 
but  they  relate,  with  sufficient  exactness 
and  fidelity,  the  prevailing  belief  of  their 
nation.  In  this  case,  their  testin>ony  is  as 
luiexceptionable,  as,  in  the  other,  their  no- 
tions are  chimerical.  Now,  had  it  been  a 
mistaken  belief,  surely  our  blessed  Lord, 
that  infallible  judge,  and  impartial  reprov- 
er, would  have  testified  his  disapprobation 
of  it.  Surely  his  disciples,  who  were  ac- 
tuated by  the  unerring  and  nndaimted  spirit 
of  their  Master,  would  have  entered  their 
protest  against  it.  Surely  St,  Paul,  in  his 
epistle  to  that  very  people,  and  in  his  trea- 
tise on  that  very  subject,  would  have  set 
himself  to  rectify  such  an  error,  and  have 
weeded  out  the  tares  before  he  sowed  the 
good  seed.  But  there  is  not  the  least  hint 
of  this  kind  in  all  the  discourses  of  our  Sa- 


Aspasio,  remonstrates  against  yoiu-  notion 
of  a  vicarious  sacrifice ;  Reason,  that  pri- 
mary guide,  and  final  test,  both  in  discover- 
ing and  determining  the  sense  of  Scripture. 
Asp.  Suppose  you,  then,  my  dear  The- 
ron,  that  none  are  in  possession  of  reason 
but  the  pupils  of  Socinus,  and  the  zealots 
for  Deism  ?  or  that  none  make  use  of  reason 
in  their  religious  inquiries,  but  men  of  this 
mould  ? 

Wrong  not  the  Christian,  think  not  reason  your's ; 
'Tis  reason  our  great  Master  holds  so  dear: 
'Tis  reason's  injured  rights  his  wrath  resents  ; 
'Tis  reason's  voice  obeyed  his  glorious  crown, 
Through  reason's  wounds  alone  thy  faith  can  die. 
Night  Thoughts,  No.  IV. 

Poets,  you  see,  are  far  from  disclaiming 
reason-  Equally  far  is  Christianity  from 
discarding  the  sober,  the  sanctified  use 
of  this  noble  faculty.  When  reason  is  un- 
der the  influence  and  direction  of  the  divine 
Spirit,  we  have  the  same  high  opinion  of 
her  excellence  as  yourself.  And,  when 
thus  regulated,  we  have,  I  am  persuaded, 
the  sanction  of  her  authority  for  all  our 
sentiments. 

Reason,  as  she  operated  in  the  sagest  of 
the  heathen  world,  instead  of  rejecting,  ap- 
proved and  adopted  this  vei7  scheme  ;  ap- 
proved it  even  under  the  disadvantage  of  a 
mutilated  and  defective,  or  rather  of  a  per- 
verted and  dead  form.  The  current  lan- 
guage of  the  classic  authors,  and  almost 
every  historian  of  Greece  and  Rome,  are 
vouchers  for  the  truth  of  this  observation. 
As  the  Gentiles  were  xmanimous  in  the 
custom  of  offering  sacrifices,  and  equally 


tomed  to  look  upon  their  sacrifices  as  pia- 
cular  oblations,*  and  a  typical  expiation  of 
guilt.  They  speak  of  our  Redeemer's  cru- 
cifi3don,  and  the  benefits  of  his  death,  in 
the  sacrificial  terms,  that  were  of  current 
use  and  established  signification.  If,  there- 
fore, the  popular  opinion  was  improper, 
their  manner  of  expression  and  address 
must  be  calculated  rather  to  authenticate 
error,  than  to  propagate  truth.  So  that,  I 
think,  even  the  silence  of  the  inspired  pen- 
men on  this  occasion,  is  but  little  inferior 
to  a  loud  attestation.  Did  they  only  say 
nothing  against  the  doctrine  of  satisfaction 
by  sacrifice,  it  would  in  effect,  and  circum- 
stances considered,  be  saying  abundance  for 
it.  But  they  are  very  copious  and  explicit 
upon  the  point. 

JJier.  Where  are  they  so  copious  ?  If 
you  have  such  a  heap  of  their  allegations, 
it  will  be  easy  to  pick  out  a  few,  and  give 
us  a  specimen. 

Asp.  It  is  as  easy,  Theron,  as  it  is  de- 
lightful. "  Messiah  shall  be  cut  off,"  says 
the  Prophet  Daniel,  "  but  not  for  himself." 
(Dan.  ix.  26.)  For  whom  then,  and  for 
what?  Isaiah  informs  us  concerning  both. 
"  For  the  transgression  of  my  people  was 
he  stricken,"  (Isaiah  liii.  8.)  Because  this 
is  an  article  of  the  last  importance,  it  is  re- 
peated, it  is  confirmed,  it  is  explained,  with 
the  most  remarkable  particidarity  :  "  He  was 
wounded   for   our   transgressions ;   he  was 


»  This,  I  think,  is  incontsstably  proved  by  Outram 

in  I-.is  treatise  De  .Sacrificiis. 


DIALOGUE  IV. 


179 


bruised  for  our  iniquities  ;  the  chastisement 
of  our  peace  was  upon  him,  and  with  his 
stripes  we  are  healed."  (Isaiah  liii.  5.) 
Our  Lord  himself  asserts  the  same  tnith  in 
the  very  same  style  :  "  I  am  the  good  shep- 
herd, and  lay  down  my  life  for  the  sheep," 
(John  X.  15.)  St.  Paul,  in  a  multitude  of 
passages,  sets  his  seal  to  this  momentous 
doctrine.  St.  Peter  maintains  it  in  very 
forcible  words  :  "  Who  his  own  self  bare 
our  sins  in  his  o\\ti  body  on  the  tree."* 

The  sacred  writers  not  only  assert  this 
capitid  article,  but  use  every  diversity  of 
speech,  in  order  to  give  it  the  fullest  evi- 
dence, and  the  strongest  estiiblishment.  "  He 
made  reconciliation  for  the  sins  of  the 
people."  (Heb.  ii.  17.)  "Jesus  Christ 
the  righteous  is  the  propitiation  for  our 
sins."  (1  John  ii.  2.)  "  He  loved  us,  and 
washed  us  from  oiu-  sins  in  his  own  blood." 
(Rev.  i.  3.)  "  He  was  made  sin  for  us, 
though  he  knew  no  sin."  (2  Cor.  v.  21.) 

Ther.  Nobody  makes  any  objection  to 
these  texts  ;  but  the  sense,  the  true  sense 
of  such  phrases,  is  the  thing  in  question. 

Asp.  ^Vliat  you  call  the  question,  to  me 
appears  so  plain,  as  not  to  want  a  decision, 
or  admit  of  a  doubt.  However,  since  you 
seem  to  demand  a  critical  sci'utiny,  it  will 
not  be  thought  pedantic  if  I  make  an  ob- 
servation or  two  upon  the  original  lan- 
guages ;  or  rather,  as  you  are  not  acquainted 
with  the  Hebrew,  on  that  language  of  which 
you  yourself  are  a  judge  and  a  master. 

If  one  died  for  all,  then  were  all  dead.  The 
preposition  i/Ttj  in  this  connexion,  must  ne- 
cessarily signify  more  than  "  on  our  account, 
or  for  our  advantage."  Because,  if  it  be 
taken  in  this  unsettled  rambling  sense,  the 
apostle's  argument  is  vague  and  inconclu- 
sive. In  case  our  Lord  had  suffered,  only 
"  to  free  us  from  some  evil,  and  procure  us 
some  benefit,"  this  would  by  no  means  im- 
ply that  all  were  dead,  imder  the  sentence  of 
condemnation,  obnoxious,  and  doomed  to 
death.  (2  Cor.  v.  14.)  The  utmost  you 
can  infer  from  such  premises  is,  that  all 
stood  in  need  of  a  deliverance  from  some 
evil,  or  wanted  the  procurement  of  some 
good.  Whereas,  suppose  the  sacred  writer 
to  intend  tlwt  our  Lord's  death  was  truly 
vicarious,  aiul  undergone  in  oiu-  stead  ;  that 
he  suffered  what  was  our  due  and  our  doom  ; 
then  the  reasoning  is  just,  and  the  inference 
undeniable. 

He  gave  himself  avriXvr^ov  irrt^,  a  ransom 
for  all.  (1  Tim.  ii.  6.)  If  this  does  not  im- 
ply the  notion  of  vicarious,  I  veiy  much 
question  whether  huiguage  itself  can  ex- 
press it.     Aurfov  is  a  ransom,  which  con- 


veys a  vicarious  sense,  in  its  most  common 
and  authorized  acceptation.  Ayn,  which  is 
equivalent  to  instead,*  still  more  fully  as- 
certains and  strengthens  the  idea.  TrEj, 
which  is  translated _/or,  and  denotes  a  sub- 
stitution of  one  in  the  place  of  another  ;t 
this  added  to  all,  renders  the  expression  as 
determinate  and  emphatical  for  the  purpose, 
as  words  can  possibly  be. 

Shidl  I  argue  from  a  more  obvious  topic, 
which  has  no  such  dependence  on  the  pre- 
cise significancy  of  the  original  ?  "  Surely," 
says  the  prophet ;  he  speaks  with  vehe- 
mence, as  of  an  affair  which  is  very  weighty  ; 
he  speaks  with  confidence,  as  of  a  face 
which  is  very  certain  :  "  He  hath  borne 
our  griefs,  and  carried  our  son'ows,  (Isa-. 
liii.  4. )  What  can  this  mean,  but  he  hath 
taken  upon  himself  that  affliction  and  those 
miseries  which  properly  belong  to  us  ?  Let 
us  read  on,  and  this  meaidng  will  present 
itself  in  the  clearest  view.  "  We  did  es- 
teem him  stricken,  smitten  of  God,  and 
afflicted  ;"  we  took  him  for  a  real  malefac- 
tor, and  thought  that  he  was  punished  for 
his  own  misconduct.  In  opposition  to 
which  injurious  and  false  surmise  it  is  added, 
"  but  he  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions, 
he  was  bruised  for  our  iiuquities."  May 
I  not  here  borrow  the  prophet's  language, 
and  say,  with  an  air  of  certainty.  Surely 
this  is  the  plainest  proof  in  the  world,  that 
our  sins  were  the  meaitorious  cause  of 
Christ's  sufferings  ;  and  if  our  sins  were 
the  meritorious  cause  of  his  sufferings,  our 
guilt  must  be  charged  upon  him,  and  pun- 
ished in  him. 

St.  Paid  affirms  that  "  Christ  hath  de- 
livered us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,"  (Gal. 
iii.  13.)  How?  By  taking  our  place,  and 
enduring  what  we  deserved ;  or,  as  the  apos- 
tle himself  speaks,  to  the  same  effect,  but 
much  more  emphatical  manner,  "by 
being  made  a  curse  for  us."  Docs  not  this 
evidently  denote  both  a  commutation  of 
persons,  and  a  translation  of  punishment? 
He  suffered,  who  Avas  innocent ;  not  we, 
who  were  guilty.  He  also  suffered  that 
very  sentence  which  the  law  denounced  on 
us,  for  it  is  written,  "  Cursed  is  every  one 
that  continueth  not  m  all  things,"  (Deut. 
xxvii.  26.)  to  this  we  were  obnoxious.  It 
is  written  again,  "  Cursed  is  every  one 
that  hangeth  on  a  tree,"  Gal.  iii.  13.)  to 
this  Christ  submitted.     And  if  Christ  en- 


•  1  Pet.  ii.  24.  Very  forcible  words  indeed.  He  bare 
.—himself  bare — our  siius — in  his  own  body;  intended, 
one  would  imagine,  to  make  the  article  of  our  Lords 
vicarious sufferin<;s  clear  beyond  all  niis<ipprehension, 
and  sure  beyond  all  doubt 


•  A»T/,  Matt  ii.  22.  By  this  word,  the  septua- 
gint  translate  the  Hebrew,  nn/l-  And  that 
Jinn  denotes  the  substitution  of  one  instead  of 
another,  no  student  of  the  sacred  language  will  ven- 
ture to  deny.  See  Gen.  xxii.  13  ;  2  Sam.  xviii.  33 : 
2  Kings  X.  24. 

I  l\i»fid)»  vvi(  Xj/s-«  "  We  beseech  you  in 
Christ's  stc.nd,"2  Cor.  v.  20.  lyx  wrl^  ffH  "iixxovn 
faai.,  that  in  thy  stead  he  might  have  ministered  unto 
me.  Philcm  ver.  13. 


rso 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


<liired  that  very  curse  which  we  deserved — 
if,  by  this  means,  he  delivered  us  from 
all  malediction — either  this  must  be  suffer- 
ing in  our  stead,  or  else  nothing  can  be 
called  by  that  name. 

Shall  I  descend  lower  still,  and  refer  our 
point  to  the  determination  of  illiterate  men? 
Ask  any  of  your  serious  tenants,  what  ideas 
arise  in  their  minds,  upon  the  perusal  of  the 
aforementioned  texts?  I  dare  venture  to  fore- 
tel,  that  artless  and  unimproved  as  their  under- 
standings are,  they  will  not  hesitate  for  an  an- 
swer. They  will  neither  complain  of  ob- 
scurity, nor  ask  the  assistance  of  learning  ; 
but  will  immediately  discern,  in  all  these 
passages,  a  gracious  Redeemer  suffering  in 
their  stead,  and  by  his  bitter,  but  expiatory 
passion,  procuring  the  pardon  of  their  sins. 
Nay  farther,  as  they  are  not  accustomed  to 
the  finesses  of  criticism,  I  apprehend  they 
will  be  at  a  loss  to  conceive  how  it  is  pos- 
sible to  imderstand  such  passages  in  any 
other  sense. 

Say  not  this  is  an  improper  appeal,  or 
these  are  incompetent  judges.  The  Scrip- 
tures were  written  for  their  edification  ;  not 
to  exercise  the  ingenuity  of  subtle  dispu- 
tants, but  to  instruct  the  meanest  of  man- 
kind in  the  way  of  salvation.  Therefore, 
on  fundamental  articles,  we  may  assuredly 
conclude  the  expression  will  be  easy,  and 
the  doctrine  perspicuous  ;  so  that  "  he  who 
runs  may  read,  and  the  wayfaring  men,  though 
fools,  shall  not  err  therein."*  Andthough 
I  am  far  from  undervaluing  the  aids  of  litera- 
ture, yet,  upon  those  momentous  subjects 
which  are  inseparably  connected  with  our 
eternal  felicity,  I  cannot  but  regard  the  com- 
mon sense  of  plain,  honest,  humble  Chris- 
tians, as  the  very  best  of  critics. 

Ther.  It  has  been  said  by  a  learned  cri- 
tic, "  That  a  vicarious  punishment  or  suffer- 
ing gives  us  too  low  ideas  of  the  Son  of  Grod, 
as  it  sinks  them  to  the  pain  and  suffering 
of  a  malefactor,  the  very  meanest  idea  we  can 
have  of  them. 

Asp.  The  idea  is  plainly  suggested  by  the 
word  of  prophecy,  and  supported  by  the  at- 
testation of  sacred  history.  In  that  it  v/as 
foretold,  and  in  this  it  is  recorded  "  that  he 
was  numbered  with  transgressors,"  (Isa.  liii. 
12;  Luke  xxii.  37.)  To  this  purpose  speaks 
St.  Paul,  though  somewhat  more  cautiously 
than  your  critic.  He  was  made,  not  indeed 
sinful  flesh,  but  in  the  likeness  of  sinful 
flesh.;  and  though  perfectly  innocent,  was 
left  to  endure  the  vengeance  due  to  the 
vilest  miscreants. 

Yes,  my  dear  Theron,  that  glorious  per- 
son, whom  the  highest  angel  adores,  "  suf- 


»  Isa.  XXXV.  8.  The  v/ori  fools  seems  to  denote  per- 
BonB  of  slow  understanding  and  dull  apprehensions,  as 
Luksxxiv.  25  ;  or  else  it  signifies  those  who,  for  want 
of  a  cultivated  education  and  the  improvements  of 
literature,  are  accounted  fools  by  the  sons  of  science, 
as  1  Cur.  i.  27- 


fered,  as  if  he  had  been  the  criminal,  the 
pain  and  punishment  which  we,  or  equiva- 
lent to  that  which  we,  the  real  criminals, 
should  have  suffered."  If  to  consider  this, 
gives  us  a  low  idea — if  to  suffer  this,  was  a 
deep  abasement — hovv  exceedingly  high,  and 
how  immensely  grand  is  the  goodness  and 
the  grace  manifested  therein  !  the  lower  yoa 
draw  the  arrow  on  the  string,  the  loftier 
flight  it  makes  in  the  sky,  and  the  great- 
er our  Lord's  humiliation  for  us,  the  more 
wonderful  and  adorable  his  love  to  us. 

Ther.  As  there  cannot  be  a  vicarious 
guilt,  or  as  no  one  can  be  guilty  in  the  stead 
of  another,  so  there  cannot  be  a  vicarious- 
punishment,  or  no  one  can  be  punished  in- 
stead of  another ;  because  pimishment,  in 
its  very  natm'e,  connotes  guilt  in  the  per- 
son who  bears  it. 

Asp.  If  you  mean  by  guilt  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  committed  a  sin,  and  the 
internal  defilement  consequent  upon  it,  we 
never  suppose  such  a  vicarious  guilt.  It  is 
not  so  much  as  intimated,  that  Christ  was 
stimg  with  the  remorse,  oi'  stained  \nth  the 
pollution  of  the  adulterous  David,  the  perfi- 
diousPeter,andthepersecutingSatil;butthaC 
he  was  treated  by  the  righteous  God  as  if  he 
had  perpetrated  these,  andall  the  crimes  of  all 
believers,  ei  ther  in  the  past  or  succeeding  ages. 

If  by  guilt  you  mean  the  charge  of  a  cri- 
minal action,  and  the  obligation  to  suffer  the 
penalty,  your  assertion  is  nothing  more  than 
begging  the  question.  It  nakedly  affirms  the 
very  thing  in  debate  :  and  bare  affirmations, 
imsupported  by  evidence,  are  seldom  admit- 
ted as  decisive  proofs.  We,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  inclined  to  believe,  that  all  our 
criminal  actions  were  charged  upon  Christ, 
and  that  he  suffered  the  punishment  which- 
they  deserved.  The  former  of  these  is  not 
so  properly  called  vicarious  guilt,  as  real 
guilt — contracted  by  one,  imputed  to  an- 
other. The  latter  we  readily  allow  to  be 
nciirious  punishment,  sustained  in  their 
stead  whose  guilt  was  imputed.  For  both. 
these  points  we  have  the  authority  of  truth, 
itself,  speaking  in  the  Scriptiu-es,  "  The 
Lord  laid  on  him  the  iniquities  of  us  all :" 
here  is  the  imputation,  "  Christ  has  redeemed 
us  from  the  ciu-se  of  the  law,  being  made  a. 
ciu'se  for  us  ;"  here  is  the  vicarious  punish- 
ment. And  you  know  to  what  casuists  we 
submit  the  interpretation  of  these  texts- 
common  sense,  and  an  honest  heart. 

Ther.  Is  not  this  shocking  to  suppose? 
horrid  to  affirm  ?  If  guilt  was  really  imputed, 
to  Christ,  then  punishment  was  his  due. 
Justice  might  insist  upon  it,  and  he  could 
not  escape  it. 

Asp.  To  suppose  this,  i»  so  far  fronv 
shocking  my  apprehension,  that  it  appears, 
even  on  yom*  own  principles,  right  and 
necessary.  Right,  because  punishment,  as 
you  yourself  have  declared,  always  connotes 


DIALOGUE  IV. 


181 


gaUt ;  I  would  add  either  contracted,  or  at 
least  imputed.  And  indeed  tlie  sufferings 
of  Chi'ist  could  not  be  of  a  i)eiial  nature, 
unless  he  endured  them  as  under  a  charge 
of  guilt.  It  is  necessary  to  suppose  this, 
otherwise  how  will  you  vindicate  the  justice 
of  God  ?  He  bid  his  sword  awake,  and 
smite  the  blessed  Jesus,  (Zech.  xiii.  7.)  But 
shall  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  wrong  ? 
Shall  he  smite,  where  there  is  nothing  but 
innocence  ?  no  guilt,  either  personal  or  im- 
puted ?  That  be  far  from  him !  The  thought 
be  far  from  us ! 

Whereas,  upon  this  supposition,  it  be- 
comes a  just  and  righteous  thing,  that  God 
«hould  inflict,  and  that  Christ  should  sus- 
tain, the  most  rigorous  punishment.  And 
I  do  not  know  but  this  might  be  the  cause  of 
our  Lord's  sUence,  when  he  was  accused 
at  Pilate's  bar  and  at  Herod's  judgment-seat. 
It  is  probable  he  considered  himself  as 
standing  before  a  higher  tribunal,  and  re- 
sponsible to  eternal  justice  for  the  criminal 
actions  of  all  his  people.  In  this  situation, 
and  in  this  capacity,  clear  himself  of  per- 
sonid  demerit  he  could,  clear  himself  of  im- 
puted guilt  he  could  not.  Thei'efore  he 
was  dumb,  he  opened  not  ids  mouth.  For 
though,  as  the  Son  of  the  most  high  God, 
glory  and  immortality  were  his  undoubted 
right ;  yet,  as  the  Surety  for  sinful  men,  tri- 
bulation and  death  were  his  condign  portion. 

And  why  should  this  be  thought  shock- 
ing ?  It  is  not  the  least  derogation  to  the 
transcendent  excellency  of  Christ.  It  casts 
not  the  least  stain  on  the  unspotted  sanctity 
either  of  his  nature  or  his  life.  To  bear 
sin  as  a  voluntary  siu'ety,  is  infinitely  dif- 
ferent from  committing  it  as  an  actual  trans- 
gressor. To  say  that  Christ  was  punished 
for  any  in-egularity  of  his  own,  would  be 
false,  impious,  and  horrid.  I'o  say  tiiat 
lie  was  charged  with  our  guilt,  and  endured 
the  punishment  due — in  the  plain  and  full 
sense  of  the  word — due  to  our  sins,  is  so  far 
from  being  injurious  to  his  dignity,  that  it 
pays  the  proper  honour  to  his  mediatorial 
undertaking.  It  pays  liim  the  honour  of 
the  highest  obedience  to  his  Father's  will, 
the  deepest  humiliation  of  his  own  illus- 
trious person,  and  the  most  boundless  be- 
nevolence to  mankind. 

Thcr.  God  is  love,  Aspasio,  all  love. 
Whereas  you  would 

Asp.  Not  often  interrupt  a  friend's  dis- 
course. But  I  cainiot  forbear  interposing 
a  query,  on  this  occasion.  Is  there,  then, 
no  just  displeasure  in  the  Deity?  What 
meaneth  that  solemn  denunciation  of  the 
supreme  Lawgiver  ?  "  The  anger  of  the 
Lord  shall  smoke  against  that  man  ?" 
(Deut.  xxix.  20.)  What  meaneth  that  aw- 
ful declaration  of  tlw.  Apostle ;  "  The 
wrath  of  God  is  revesUed  from  heaven,  upon 
all    luigodliness    and     unrigliteousDcss    of 


men?"  (Rom.  i.  18.)  Or  in  what  sense 
are  we  to  explain  that  alaiming  interrogatory 
of  the  prophet,  "  Who  can  stand  before  his 
indignation  ?  and  who  can  abide  in  the 
fierceness  of  his  anger  ?  (Nah.  i.  6.) 
Whence  could  those  avenging  visitations 
proceed,  which  destroyed  Sodom  and  Go- 
morrah with  a  tempest  of  fire  ?  (  Gen.  xix. 
•24.)  which  swept  away  so  many  thousands 
of  the  polluted  Israelites  with  a  raging  pes- 
tilence? (Numb.  XXV.  9.)  and  consigned 
over  so  many  legions*  of  rebellious  angels 
to  chains  of  darkness  ? 

Surely,  Theron,  if  there  be  any  deter- 
minate signification  in  language,  if  any  les- 
son to  be  learned  from  the  most  tremend- 
dous  judgments,  it  is,  that  the  Lord,  though 
free  from  all  the  discomposure  of  passion, 
is  nevertheless  angry  with  the  wicked, 
(Psal.  vii.  11.  Deut.  ix.  8.)  and  wiU  make 
impenitent  offenders  feel  the  effects  of  his 
wise  and  holy  indignation. 

TJier.  Does  not  your  doctrine  represent 
the  all-merciful  God  as  a  rigorous  being, 
who,  when  once  displeased,  will  hardly  be 
pacified  ?  Whereas,  the  Lord  himself  de- 
clares by  his  prophet,  "  Fury  is  not  in  me." 
Men  of  satirical  wit  would  be  apt  to  insin- 
uate, that  you  had  mistaken  Jehovah  for 
Moloch,  and  was  erecting  a  Christian  church 
in  the  valley  of  the  Son  of  Hinnom. 

Asp.  We  take  our  representations  of 
God,  not  from  the  vain  conjectui-es  of  men, 
but  from  the  records  of  infalliUle  truth. 
There  he  is  described  as  a  righteous  God, 
a  jealous  God,  (Exod.  xx.  5.)  and,  to  in- 
corrigible sinners,  a  consuming  fire,  (Heb. 
xii.  '29.)  though  wonderfully  condescending, 
yet  transcendently  majestic,  insomuch  that 
none  of  the  fallen  race  are  permitted  to  ap- 
proach his  throne,  but  only  through  the  in- 
tervention of  a  great  Mediator,  (John.  xiv. 
6.)  and  without  shedding  of  blood,  even 
the  blood  of  a  person  higher  than  the  hea- 
vens, there  is  no  remission  of  any  offences, 
(Heb.  ix.  22;  vii.  26.) 

Wlien  the  Lord  says,  "  Fury  is  not  in 
me,"  (Isa.  xxvii.  4.)  the  words  have  a  pecu- 
liar reference  to  his  church,  which,  in  a  pre- 
ceding verse,  he  had  styled,  "a  vineyard 
of  red  wine."  The  connexion  seems  to  de- 
note, that  his  fierce  anger  was  turned  away 
from  his  people,  on  account  of  the  satis- 
faction made  by  their  Savioiu-.  Though 
liis  own  people   are  the  objects,  not  of  his 

*  Millions.— The  name  of  the  faHen  angels  is  no- 
where specified,  and  the  veil  sits  deep  upon  thespirit- 
ual  world  ;  so  that  we  can  see  no  farther  than  revela- 
tion has  discovered.  \eX,  I  think,  there  is  sufficient 
room  to  ground  a  conjecture  U|)on  the  reply  which 
one  of  those  execrable  apostates  m.ide  to  our  Lord. 
"  My  name  is  lepion."  (a  word  signifying  a  great  nnil- 
tiluile,  tive  or  six  thousand;)  "  for  we  are  many." 
If  so  many  \vereenii)loyedin  tempting  and  'oiTnenting 
a  single  person,  what  armies,  what  myriads  of  those 
invisible  rnemies,  must  exist  through  universal  na- 
ture ?  It  is  an  alarming  thought !  should  make  us  Hy 
to  our  divine  I'rotccior,  and  .Ttmighty  Deliverer.  Se» 
Mark  v.  •),  and  2  l>ct.  ii.  4. 


182 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


indignation,  but  of  his  love,  let  no  ungodly 
wretches  audaciously  presume  :  It  is  not  so 
■with  them.  They  are  "  the  briars  and 
thorns"*  mentioned  in  the  next  clause; 
cumberers  of  the  ground,  improfitable  and 
noxious.  Them  he  warns,  them  he  chal- 
lenges :  "Who  will  set  them  in  battle 
against  me  ?"  Let  them  come  on  ;  they  shall 
find  it  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  living  God. 

Nay,  he  will  not  stay  for  tbeir  approach : 
"  I  will  march  against  them,"  in  his  threat- 
ening :  "  I  will  pass  through  them  ;  I  will 
bum  them  together."  This  wU  certainly 
be  the  case,  if  not  in  the  present  yet  in  a 
future  world.  When  once  the  master  of 
the  house  is  risen  up,  and  has  shut  to  the 
door,  mercy  is  gone  for  ever.  Then  nothing 
must  be  expected,  nothing  will  then  be  ex- 
perienced, but  "  vengeance  and  fiery  indig- 
nation, to  devoiu'  the  adversaries  of  the 
gospel."  God  will  then  "execute  judgments 
in  anger,  and  in  fury,  and  in  fiuious  re- 
bidvcs,"  (Ezek.  v.  15.)  wth  such  aw^ul 
severity  and  immense  glorj',  as  wiU  cause 
heaven  to  adore,  and  heU  to  tremble. 

Yet  in  all  this  there  is  not  the  least  tinc- 
ture of  that  outrageous  temper,  which  in 
man  we  properly  call  fiuy.  In  man,  fury 
implies  an  immoderate  degree  of  resent- 
ment, which  will  hearken  to  no  reasoning, 
and  accede  to  no  terms.  The  gospel  ac- 
coiuit  proves,  even  to  a  demonstration, 
that  thisphas  no  place  in  the  divine  nature. 
So  far  from  it,  that  God,  though  highly 
provoked,  has  provided  an  atonement,  has 
made  overtures  of  reconciliation  to  his  dis- 
obedient creatures,  has  even  besoughtf  a 
guilty  world,  to  accept  of  forgiveness, 
(2  Cor.  V.  20.)  This  is  the  purport  of 
that  gracious  invitation  which  follows  in 
the  prophet :  "  Let  him,"  let  the  wicked 
man  forsake  his  way,  "  and  take  hold  of 
my  strength  ;"  let  him  fly  to  my  cnicified 
Son,  who  is  the  power  of  God  for  the  sal- 
vation of  sinners  ;  cleaving  to  his  merits  by 
faith,  as  some  poor  delinquent  to  the  horns 
of  the  altar. I      Thus  he  shall  make  peace  ; 


*  There  is  a  fine  contrast  between  the  vineyard  and 
the  thorns,  at  the  same  time  a  regular  continuation  of 
the  metaphor.  As  nothing  is  more  common  than  to 
see  the  latter  shooting  up  amidst  the  former  ;  so  no- 
thing is  more  common  than  to  have  hypocrites  inter- 
mingle themselves  with  believers. 

t  2  Cor.  V.  20.  It  was  an  instance  of  singular  com- 
passion in  the  blessed  God,  that  though  oftended  with 
Job's  friends,  he  admitted  of  a  sacrifice,  and  directed 
them  to  an  intercessor ;  both  typical  of  Christ  Jesus. 
But  what  unparalleled  condescension,  and  divinely 
tender  rnercies,  are  displayed  in  this  verse !  "  As 
though  God  did  beseech  you  by  us;  we  pray  you  in 
Christ's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to  Goci."  Did  the 
judge  ever  beseech  a  condemned  criminal  to  accept 
of  pardon  ?  Does  the  creditor  beseech  a  ruined 
debtor  to  receive  an  acquittance  in  full;  yet  our  al- 
mighty Lord,  and  our  eternal  Judge,  not  only  vouch- 
safes to  offer  these  blessings,  but  invites  us— entreats 
us — with  the  most  tender  and  repeated  importunity 
solicits  us — not  to  reject  them  ? 

t  This  is  the  precise  idea  included  in  the  original 
Din  and  the  idea  is  as  charming,  as  the  image  is 
expressive.    Isa,  xxvii,  5.    1  Kings  i.  50. 


all  his  iniquities  shall  be  forgiven,  and  all 
my  displeasure  shall  be  pacified.  So  that 
the  insinuations  of  our  satirical  gentlemen 
are  as  egregiously  mistaken,  as  they  are 
shockingly  worded. 

You  are  a  man  of  sense,  Theron,  and  es- 
teem that  character  far  above  the  idle  re- 
putation of  a  wit.  As  such,  let  me  ask 
you  seriously,  is  it  not  for  the  honour  of  the 
divine  majesty  to  exercise  justice  as  well  as 
mercy?  Always  to  pardon,  and  never  to 
punish,  would  be  tameness,  rather  than  be- 
nignity ;  a  renunciation  of  holiness,  rather 
than  a  display  of  goodness.  Or  can  it  be 
right  in  us  so  extravagantly  to  magnify  the 
amiable,  as  depreciate,  nay  even  anni- 
hilate, the  awful  attributes  of  Deity  :  This, 
says  a  poet,  is  the  theology,  not  of  Christ- 
ians, but  of  infidels  j 

Who  set  at  odds  heaven's  jarring  attributes. 
And  with  one  excellence  another  wound ; 
Maim  heaven's  perfection,  break  its  equal  beams. 
Bid  mercy  triumph  over— God  himself, 
Undeified  by  their  opprobrious  praise : 
A  God  all  mercy  is  a  God  unjust. 

Night  Thoughts,  No.  IV. 

Ther.  But  we  have  lately  been  told,  that 
the  pardoning  grace  of  the  Lawgiver  is  not 
obstructed  by  any  demands  of  law  and  jus- 
rice  ;  for  he  can  set  them  aside. 

Asp.  What !  Set  aside  a  law,  which  is 
holy,  righteous  and  good !  set  aside  a  jus- 
rice,  which  is  eternal,  inflexible,  and  in- 
finite ! — St.  Paul  gives  a  very  difierent  so- 
lution of  this  difficiflty.  He  tells  us,  not 
that  God  set  aside  his  law  and  his  justice ; 
"  but  that  he  set  forth  the  blessed  Jesus  for 
a  propitiation,  through  faith  in  his  blood," 
with,  this  express  design,  "  that  he  might 
declare  his  righteousness,"  (Rom.  iii.  25,) 
might  demonstrate,  not  only  his  clemency, 
but  his  justice,  even  that  vindictive  justice 
whose  essential  character  and  principal 
ofiice  is  to  pmiish  sin. 

This  seems  to  be  the  import  of  the  word 
riyhteousness  in  the  present  connexion,  and, 
I  think,  more  than  seems,  if  we  consult  the 
following  verse,  "  to  declare,  I  say,  at  this 
time  his  righteousness,  that  he  might  be 
just,"*  evidence  himself  to  be  strictly  and 
inviolably  righteous,  in  the  administrarion 
of  his  government ;  even  while  he  is  the 
all- forgiving,  gracious  justifier  of  the  sinner 
that  believeth  in  Jesus.  According  to  this 
plaji,  mercy  and  truth  meet  together  ;  right- 
eousness and  peace  kiss  each  other,"  (  Psalm 
Ixxxv.  10,)  all  the  attributes  harmonize; 
every  attribute  is  glorified ;  and  not  one 
superseded  ;  no,  nor  so  much  as  clouded. 

Ther.   If  some  are  verging  to  one  ex- 


•  Rom.  iii.  26.  The  attribute  of  justice  must  be 
preserved  inviolate ;  and  inviolate  it  is  preserved,  if 
there  was  a  real  infliction  of  punishment  on  our  Savi- 
our. Nothing  else  can  thoroughly  clear  up  this  great 
evangelical  paradox — "  Just,  yet  Justifier  of  the  un- 
godly." 


DIALOGUE  IV. 


183 


treme,  are  not  you  incliriiiig  to  the  other  ? 
Our  ears  tingle,  and  our  blood  runs  chill,  at 
the  very  thoughts  of  so  severe  a  vengeance, 
executed  on  an  object  so  worthy  and  illus- 
trious. Besides,  how  can  we  suppose  that 
the  beneficent  Creator  and  presener  of  men 
should  take  pleasure  in  the  sufferings  of  the 
most  unblamable  person  that  ever  existed  ? 
Especially  since  he  himself  has  made  this 
tender  declaration,  "  1  will  have  mercy  and 
not  sacrifice."     (Matt.  ix.  13.) 

Asp.  A  tender  declaration  indeed  it  is  ; 
signifying,  that  God  is  better  pleased  with 
the  duties  of  humanity  and  charity,  than 
with  the  most  costly  and  pompous  train  of 
sacrifices ;  nay,  that  he  will  even  dispense 
with  the  observance  of  his  own  ceremonial 
institutions,  when  they  interfere  with  our 
CKercise  of  beneficence  one  to  another  ;  thus 
resigning  (so  admirable  is  his  goodness!) 
the  services  due  to  himself,  for  the  benefit 
and  comfort  of  his  creatures.  But  all  this 
lias  no  sort  of  relation  to  the  sacrifice  of 
Clu-ist,  which  was  the  most  noble,  and  the 
most  acceptable  oblation  ever  made  to  the 
King  of  heaven. 

We  are  assured  by  a  prophet,  that  "  it 
pleased  the  Lord  to  bruise  his  holy  child 
Jesus."  God  not  only  gave  up  liis  Son  to 
sufferings,  but  gave  liim  up  with  a  divine 
complacency.  *  In  like  manner,  the  blessed 
Jesus  addressed  himself  to  the  dreadful 
task,  not  only  without  reluctance,  but  v\dth 
the  utmost  alacrity. f  "  I  delight  to  do  thy 
will,"  was  the  language  of  his  soid.  Should 
you  ask,  how  could  the  Son  take  pleasure 
in  undergoing,  or  the  Father  in  inflicting, 
such  amazing  sorrows  ?  No  otherwise,  than 
upon  account  of  those  grand  and  everlasting 
advantages  which  were  to  result  from  them. 

"  A  severe  vengeance,"  you  say,  "  such 
as  makes  our  ears  to  tingle."  This  is  the 
very  thing  intended,  to  awaken  and  alarm  pre- 
sumptuous offenders  ;  that  they  "  may  hear 
and  fear  and  do  no  more  wickedly."  It  is 
such  a  method  of  dispensing  grace,  as  is  cal- 
culated to  strike  the  deepest  terror,  even 
while  it  cherishes  the  brightest  hope  ;  strike 
the  deepest  terror  on  every  persevering  sin- 


•  This  ii  the  idea  included  in  the  original  word 
i*3n.  Isa.  liii.  in.  Which  is  but  poorly  and  faintly 
represented  by  the  BuXtrai  of  the  Septuagint. 

t  Utmost  alacrity— There  it  no  inconsistency  be- 
tween this  assertion  and  our  Lord's  supplication ; 
"  Father,  if  it  be  possible,  let  thi»  cup  pass  from  me ; 
nevertheless,  not  my  will  but  thine  be  done."  Such 
a  deprecatory  request,  put  up  with  so  much  e.irnest- 
iicss,  yet  with  so  much  submission,  only  shows  the 
extreme  severity  of  our  Redeemer's  angmsh,  and  the 
prodigious  weight  of  his  woes.  And  this  indeed  it 
nhows  beyond  the  power  of  description.  His.irdent 
love  to  mankind,  ,ind  his  fervent  zeal  for  his  Father's 
glory,  prompted  him  to  desire  these  suft'erings.  His 
invincible  resolution,  and  unequalled  magnanimity, 
emboldened  him  not  to  decline,  but  to  meet  them. 
Yet  they  were  so  great,  so  terrible,  that  his  nature 
being  human,  could  not  but  recoil  a  little,  and  he 
t^artcd  at  their  approach,  and  h.nd  it  not  been  divine 
alio,  must  ineritably  h.ivc  ro.r.k  under  the  ioad- 


ner — while  it  cherishes  the  brightest  hope 
on  every  penitent  trajisgressor. 

Ther.  If  one  of  my  servants  bad  aflStont- 
ed  or  injiu'ed  me,  I  should  upon  his  sub- 
missive acknowledgment,  forgive  his  fault, 
and  not  insist  upon  satisfaction  for  the 
wrong.  Will  you  make  the  father  of  com- 
passions more  inexorable  in  his  nature, 
more  rigid  in  his  demands  than  a  human 
master  ? 

Asp.  When  you  have  a  servant  that 
owes  his  being  to  your  power,  that  has  re- 
ceived inmimerable  benefits  from  your 
bounty,  yet  has  offered  you  innumerable  af- 
fronts, all  attended  with  the  most  aggravat- 
ing circumstances,  and  all  in  defiance  of  the 
most  righteous  threatenings  ;  when  you  are 
possessed  of  infinite  majesty,  and  unblem- 
ished sanctity ;  when  truth  inviolable,  and 
justice  inflexible,  are  essential  to  your  cha- 
racter ;  then,  Theron,  the  parallel  will  hold 
good,  and  your  conduct  shall  be  a  pattern 
for  the  procedure  of  Jehovah. 

Till  then,  you  and  I  must  be  willing  to 
forgive,  because  God  has  made  it  oiu-  own 
bouiiden  duty  ;  and  because  we  have  incom- 
parably more  to  be  forgiven  by  the  Judge 
of  the  world,  than  we  can  possibly  remit  to 
our  fellow-creatures.  In  the  mean  time, 
you  will  allow  the  great  God,  who  is  gloii- 
ioua  in  holiness,  to  communicate  his  hea- 
venly favours  in  a  manner  becoming  him- 
self; on  such  august  and  honourable  terms, 
as  shall  maintain  the  rights  of  his  universal 
government,  and  manifest  the  glory  of  liis 
adorable  attributes. 

Ther.  Might  not  God  have  cancelled  our 
transgression,s,  and  received  fallen  men  into 
his  favour,  without  any  propitiation  ?  To 
deny  this,  would  be  to  limit  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel,  and  impose  conditions  on  that 
uncontrollable  Sovereign,  "who  giveth  no 
accoimt  of  any  of  his  matters." 

Asp.  We  need  not  embarrass  ourselves  by 
entering  upon  inquiries,  which  may  seem  to 
lie  beyond  the  limits  of  human  understand- 
ing ; — enough  for  us  to  know,  that  this 
propitiation  was  absolutely  necessary  with 
regard  to  the  first  covenant.  For  as  God 
hat!  solemnly  declared,  "  In  the  day  thou 
eatest  thereof,  dying  thou  sh;dt  die,"  his 
truth  and  justice  stood  engaged  to  execute 
the  threatening.  And  no  second  Adam 
coidd  restore  the  first,  but  by  taking  this  curse 
upon  himself. 

"  Die  man,  or  justice  must ;  unless  for  him. 
Some  other  able,  and  as  willing,  pay 
The  rigid  satisfaction,  death  for  death." 

Hilton,  b.  3.  1.  210. 

Therefore  the  divine  Jesus,  who  lay  in 
the  bosom  of  the  Father,  and  knew  the 
counsels  of  heaven,  says,  "  The  Son  of  man 
must  be  lifted  up,"*  on  the  cross.      There 

•  John.  iii.  14.  A-j  tov,  ^Vc.  The  srmc  txprei. 
siop.  is  used,  Luke  xxiv.  26, 


]84 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


"was  a  necessity  for  his  crucifixion  ;  because 
this  was  stipulated  in  the  covenant  of  peace 
made  between  the  Father  and  the  Son  :  be- 
cause it  was  expressly  foretold  by  the  an- 
cient prophets,  (and  the  scripture  cannot  be 
broken),  that  the  Messiah  should  be  cut  off 
out  of  the  land  of  the  living ;  because  a  va- 
riety of  types,  and  a  multitude  of  sacrifices, 
prefigured  his  death  :  one  of  the  types  point- 
ed out  the  very  manner  of  his  suffering; 
and  all  the  sacrifices,  detached  from  their 
dependency  on  this  great  oblation,  would  have 
been  beggarly  elements — mere  unavailing 
empty  ceremonies. 

I  apprehend,  it  is  no  limitation  of  the 
great  God  to  suppose  him  incapable  of  acting 
otherwise  than  in  perfect  and  perpetual  con- 
sistency with  himself.  Neither  is  it  any 
infringement  on  his  absolute  sovereignty, 
that  he  cannot  but  order  all  affairs  for  the 
honoiu-  of  his  justice,  his  fidelity,  and  each 
of  his  exalted  perfections.  This  is  the  very 
thing  which  the  sacred  writers  express  in 
their  plain  but  strong  language,  "  God  who 
cannot  lie,"  (Tit.  i.  2.)  "  He  cannot  deny 
himself,"  (2  Tim.  ii.  13.) 

Ther.  God  is  often  said  to  forgive  our 
sins  ;  particularly  in  that  sublime  passage, 
where  he  proclaims  his  name  to  Moses  : 
"  The  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful  and 
gracious,  long-suifering,  abundant  in  good- 
ness and  truth ;  keeping  mercy  for  thousands, 
forgiving  iniquity,  transgression,  and  sin." 
Now,  pardon  is  a  free  thing.  Freeness  is 
implied  in  the  very  nature  of  forgiveness. 
Take  away  the  former,  and  you  destroy  the 
latter.  If  an  equivalent  be  given,  pardon  is 
no  longer  pardon,  but  a  purchase.  For- 
giveness ceases  to  be  an  act  of  grace,  and 
becomes  the  payment  of  a  debt. 

Asp.  The  text  you  quote  is  truly  sublime 
and  equally  comfortable.  But  you  forget 
to  mention  one  article  of  very  great  moment, 
which  closes  and  completes  the  glorious 
character ;  which  seems  added  on  purpose 
to  prevent  any  wrong  apprehensions  of  the 
Deity,  and  to  guard  against  all  abuse  of  the 
doctrine  :  "  He  will  in  no  wise  clear  the 
guilty."* — Godwillnot,onanyconsidei'ation 
whatever,  absolve  the  obstinate,  persevering, 
irreclaimable  ofl^ender ;  neither  will  he  ac- 
Auit  any  of  the  guilty  race,  absolutely,  un- 
..nditionally,  or  without  such  a  satisfaction 
as  may  repair  the  honour  of  his  injured  law. 


•  Exod.  xxxiv.  7-  This  text  is  not  without  its  dif- 
ficulty, especially  in  the  original.  Steuchus  inter- 
prets the  words,  Et  innncens  non  etit  sine  piaculo, 
"  He  shall  not  be  acquitted  without  a  piacular  sacri- 
fice." I  think  they  may  be  translated,  with  a  little 
more  propriety  and  exactness,  thus:  "  Pardoning  in- 
iquity, transgression,  and  sin,"  HDJI  is)  Jlp^') 
though  not  with  impunity;  or  rather,  "though  he 
will  by  no  means  let  it  go  unpunished,"  meaning  sin; 
which  is  the  immediate  antecedent,  is  expressed  in 
the  three  preceding  words,  and  may  very  properly  be 
referred  to  in  tliis  clause. 


"  We  have  redemption  through  his  blood," 
says  the  apostle,  "  even  the  forgiveness  of 
our  sins,"  (Eph.  i.  7.)  It  is  forgiveness, 
you  see,  though  bought  with  a  price.  It  is 
remission,  though  prociu-ed  by  blood.  It  is 
free  with  regard  to  that  Sovereign  Being 
who  pardons ;  for  he  was  under  no  obliga- 
tion to  admit  of  a  propitiatory  sacrifice,  but 
might,  without  any  diminution  of  his  dignity, 
have  left  all  mankind  to  perish  in  their  sins. 
It  is  free  with  regard  to  the  obnoxious  crea- 
tures who  are  pardoned ;  for  it  is  vouchsaf- 
ed without  any  satisfaction  demanded  at 
their  hands,  or  any  penalty  inflicted  on  their 
persons.  It  is  in  this  respect  also  free, 
that  an  interest  in  the  great  atonement  is 
granted  to  us,  wdthout  the  least  merit,  or 
any  deser\dng  qualifications  of  our  own. 

In  all  this  God  is  not  only  merciful  but 
most  tenderly  and  immensely  merciful.  And 
\vlLl  any  one  calumniate  this  adorable  me- 
thod of  exercising  mercy,  because  provision 
is  also  naade  for  the  glory  of  God's  truth, 
God's  holiness,  and  supreme  authority  ? 

Ther.  Does  not  yoiu-  notion  of  a  propi- 
tiatory sacrifice  derogate  from  the  goodness 
of  the  Almighty  Father,  and  transfer  all  our 
obligations  to  the  incarnate  Son? 

Asp.  Is  there  not  goodness  in  allowing  a 
substitute  to  sutfer  in  our  stead  ?  Is  there 
not  still  greater  goodness  in  providing  a  sub- 
stitute for  us,  without  any  solicitation  on 
otu-  part?  Is  there  not  the  very  highest 
exertion  of  goodness,  in  appointing  a  dear, 
an  only,  an  incontparably  excellent  Son  for 
the  piu^ose  ?  This  marvellous  scheme,  far, 
very  far  from  obsciu-ing,  most  illustriously 
displays  the  superabundant  loving-kindness 
of  the  Father. 

"  God  so  loved  the  world,"  apostate  and 
polluted  as  it  was — How  did  he  love  it  ? 
To  a  degree  unutterable  by  any  tongue, 
inconceivable  by  any  imagination,  and  only 
to  be  expressed  by  the  infinitely-precious 
effects  :  Loved  it  so,  "  that  he  gave  his  only 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  on 
him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life;"  (John  iii.  16.)  And  does  this  dero- 
gate from  the  goodness  of  the  Almighty 
Father,  to  give  not  barely  pardon  and  life, 
but  give  them  through  the  hands,  nay, 
through  the  wounds,  the  agonies,  the  death, 
of  his  divinest,  dearest  Son  ? 

Such  privileges,  vouchsafed  on  any  terms, 
must  challenge  the  devoutest  acknowledg- 
ments. But  when  attended  with  this  ad- 
ditional demonstration  of  favour,  they  are 
enough  to  inflame  us  with  gratitude,  and 
transport  us  with  admiration.  They  not 
only  manifest,  but  commend*  the   divine 

*  Kom.  V.  8.  Tu^rii".  It  seems  to  be  an  image 
taken  from  the  practice  of  tradesmen  :  who,  in  show- 
ing their  goods,  point  out  their  excellencies,  and  set 
in  the  clearest  light  whatever  may  bespeak  their 
worth,  or  recommend  them  to  the  purchaser. 


DIALOGUE  IV. 


185 


love  ;  show  it  to  the  greatest  advaiitajre,  in 
the  highest  perfection,  with  every  circum- 
stance of  recommendation  and  endearment. 
By  this  means,  blessed  God !  thon  hast  un- 
speakably enhanced  thy  benefits !  thou  hast 
rendered  them,  though  invaluable  in  them- 
selves, exceedingly  more  so  by  the  manner  of 
conferring  them ! 

Ther.  Again  in  your  elevations,  As- 
pasio  ?  The  world,  you  know,  is  grown 
very  rational  and  inquisitive ;  will  admit 
nothing  but  upon  clear  evidence  and  full 
conviction.  We  expect,  in  ;dl  religious  in- 
quiries, not  the  flights  of  fancy,  or  the  sal- 
lies of  zeal,  but  a  sobriety  of  reason  and  so- 
lidity of  argument. 

Asp.  The  world,  rational  as  it  is,  seems, 
by  the  taste  of  the  present  age,  no  enemy 
to  works  of  fancy.  The  world  therefore 
may  not  be  displeased  with  an  affecting 
stoiy.  And  a  story,  suitable  to  the  occa- 
sion, just  occurs  to  my  mind  ;  such  as  may 
serve  to  shadow  forth,  though  very  faintly, 
the  surpassing  benignity  and  grace  of  our 
crucified  Lord. 

An  Asiatic  queen,  departing  this  life, 
left  behind  her  three  accomplished  sons,  all 
arrived  to  years  of  maturity.  The  young 
princes  were  at  strife  who  should  pay  the 
highest  respect  to  their  royal  mother's  me- 
mory. To  give  scope  for  their  generous 
contention,  they  agreed  to  meet  at  the  place 
of  her  interment,  and  there  present  the 
most  honourable  gift  they  knew  how  to  de- 
vise, or  were  able  to  procure. — The  eldest 
came  and  exhibited  a  sumptuous  monument, 
consisting  of  the  richest  materials,  and  orna- 
mented with  the  most  exquisite  workman- 
ship. The  second  ransacked  all  the  beau- 
ties of  the  blooming  creation  ;  and  offered 
a  garland  of  such  admirable  colours,  and  de- 
lightful odours,  as  had  never  been  seen  be- 
fore. The  youngest  appeared,  without  any 
pompous  preparation,  having  only  a  crystal 
bason  in  one  hand,  and  a  silver  bodkin  in 
the  other.  As  soon  as  he  approached  the 
tomb,  he  threw  open  his  breast ;  pierced  a 
vein,  that  lay  opposite  to  his  heart ;  received 
the  blood  in  the  transparent  vase ;  and, 
with  an  air  of  affectionate  reverence,  placed 
it  on  the  beloved  parent's  monument.  The 
spectators,  struck  with  the  sight,  burst  into 
a  shout  of  general  applause,  and  immediate- 
ly gave  the  preference  to  this  last  oblation. 

If  it  was  reckoned  such  a  singidar  ex- 
pression of  love,  to  expend  a  few  of  those 
precious  drops,  for  the  honour  of  a  parent ; 
O  how  matchless,  how  ineffable,  was  the 
love  of  Jesus,  in  pouring  out  all  his  vital 
blood,  for  the  salvation  of  enemies  ! 

Ther.  My  gi-eatest  objection  is  still  to 
come.  If  Christ  suffered  in  our  stead,  he 
must  suffer  that  veiy  punishment  which 
was  due  to  our  iniquities.  This  your  or- 
thodox divines    affirm  to   be  incomparably 


worse  than  bodily  death ;  to  be  nothing  else 
than  the  everlasting  displeasure  of  God. 

Asp.  The  punishment  due  to  our  ini- 
quities, was  shame,  death,  and  the  divine 
wrath. 

As  for  shame — Was  ever  shame  like  that 
shame  which  our  despised  Redeemer  bore? 
Though  prince  of  the  kings  of  the  earth, 
yet  born  in  a  stable,  and  laid  in  a  manger. 
When  an  infant,  exiled  from  his  own  coun- 
try, and  a  vagabond  in  a  foreign  land. 
When  engaged  in  the  discharge  of  his  mi- 
nistry, accused  of  the  most  flagitious  crimes, 
and  branded  with  the  blackest  names. 
When  brought  to  his  exit,  apprehended  as 
a  thief;  condemned  as  a  malefactor,  nay, 
the  vilest  of  malefactors,  a  robber  and  a 
murderer  is  preferred  before  him.  His 
executioners  poured  contempt  upon  all  his 
venerable  offices.  As  a  king,  they  ridi- 
culed him,  by  putting  a  mock  sceptre  into 
his  hand,  and  crowning  him  with  ragged 
thorns*  instead  of  a  royal  diadem.  They 
vilified  his  prophetic  character  by  hood- 
winking his  eyes,  striking  his  blessed  head, 
and  then  asking,  in  cruel  derision,  "  who  it 
was  that  smote  him  ?"f  They  cast  reproach  on 
his  priestly  undertaking,  when  they  sharpen- 
ed their  tongues  with  malicious  irony,  and 
shot  out  those  bitter  words,  "  He  saved 
others,  himself  he  cannot  save,"  (Matth. 
xxvii.  42.)  To  render  his  infamy  as  pub- 
lic as  it  was  shocking,  they  hung  him  on  a 
tree  ;  and  exposed  him,  defiled  as  he  was 
with  spitting,  and  disfigured  vnth  wounds, 
to  the  gazing  eyes  and  contumelious  scoffs 
of  numberless  spectators. 

If  you  doubt  whether  Christ  sustained 
the  ^vrath  of  God,  let  us  follow  him  to  the 
garden  of  Gethsemene-^a  scene,  which  I 
would  always  recollect  when  I  walk  along 
the  fertile  vale,  or  expatiate  amidst  the 
flowery  garden,  or  enjoy  the  delights  of  any 
rural  retirement. — He  had  no  remorse  to  a- 
larm  his  spotless  conscience  ;  yet  fearfulness 
and  trembling  came  upon  him.  No  vio- 
lence was  offered  to  his  sacred  person  ;  yet 
a  horrible  dread  overwhelmed  him.  It  was 
night,  cold  night ;  and  though  our  divine 
Master  lay  prostrate  upon  the  earth,  amidst 
the  fall  of  chilling  dews,  he  sweat — sweat 
blood — sweat  great  drops  of  blood,  run- 
ning down  in  reeking  streams  to  the  ground  ! 
— "  He  was  anointed  with  the  oil  of 
gladness  above  his  fellows,"  (Psal.  xlv. 
7.)  yet  so  insupportable  was  his  afiiiction, 
that  he  could  not  forbear  crying  out,  "  My 
sold    is  sorrowful — exceeding   sorrowful — 

•  To  have  crowned  the  blessed  Jesus  with  straw, 
would  have  been  a  vile  insult,  and  treating  him  like 
an  ambitious  madman.  But  to  crown  him  with  keen, 
pungent,  lacerating  thorns,  was  adding  cruelty  to 
their  insults;  unheard-of  barbarity  to  the  most  con- 
temjituous  mockery.  Matt,  xxvii.  39. 

t  Scornfully  insinuating,  that  his  sacred  prophetic 
otTicc  was  fit  for  nothing,  but  to  serve  such  aespicable 
purposes,  Matt.  Jtxvi.  (JO. 


186 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


sorrowful  even  unto  death!"  (Mat.  xxvi. 
38.)  What  cause,  what  adequate  cause, 
can  be  assigned  for  this  amazing  anguish  ? 
None  but  th«  wrath  of  his  Almighty  Fa- 
ther, who  was  now  become  an  inexorable 
Judge ;  and  treated  him  no  longer  as  the 
Son  of  his  love,  but  as  the  Siurety  for  un- 
numbered millions  of  guilty  creatures. 

Ther.  "Was  it  possible  that  the  innocent 
and  holy  Jesus,  the  dearly  beloved  Son  of 
God,  should  be  an  object  of  his  Father's 
wrath  ? 

Asp.  It  was  not  only  possible,  but  una- 
voidable and  necessary  :  unavoidable,  with 
respect  to  the  divine  holiness ;  necessary, 
for  the  prociuement  of  our  redemption. 
Sin  was  charged  upon  Christ ;  all  the  sins 
of  all  believers,  in  all  ages  and  places  of  the 
world.  And  could  the  infinitely-righteous 
God  behold  such  a  deluge  of  iniquities, 
(those  abominable  things,  which  he  hateth) 
without  expressing  his  displeasure?  Or 
could  the  blessed  Jesus  be  punished,  truly 
punished  for  them,  without  any  painful  sen- 
sation of  their  horrid  evil,  and  of  that  tre- 
mendous indignation  which  they  deserved  ? 
If  this  was  not  the  case,  who  can  main- 
tain the  dignity  of  his  conduct  during  the 
agony  in  the  garden  ?  Was  there  no  pouring 
out  of  the  divine  displeasure  ?  Then  his  be- 
haviour in  that  hour  of  trial  did  not  equal 
the  intrepidity  of  the  three  Hebrew  youths, 
who  continued  calm,  and  without  the  least 
perturbation,  while  the  furnace  was  heated 
into  seven-fold  THge,  (Dan.  iii.  16,  17,  18.) 
But  if  this  was  the  time  in  which,  no  creat- 
ed arm  being  strong  enough  to  give  the  blow, 
"  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  bruise  him,"  (Isa. 
liii.  10.)  if  the  most  high  God  "  bent  his 
bow  like  an  enemy,  and  stood  with  his  right 
hand  as  an  adversary,"  (Lam.  ii.  4.)  it  is 
easy  to  account  for  the  prodigious  conster- 
nation of  our  Redeemer.  It  is  not  to  be 
wondered,  that  his  heart,  though  endued 
with  otherwise  invincil)le  fortitude,  should 
become  like  melting  wax.  For  who  know- 
eth  the  power  of  that  wrath,  at  which  "  the 
pillars  of  heaven  tremble?"  (Job.  xxvi. 
11.) 

Ah !  Theron,  the  vinegar  and  the  gall 
which  they  gave  him  to  drink,  were  not  half 
so  bitter  as  the  cup  of  his  Father's  wrath ; 
yet,  for  our  sake,  he  drank  it  off  to  the  very 
dregs.  The  nails  that  pierced  his  hands,  and 
the  spear  that  cleft  his  heart,  were  not  half 
so  shai-p  as  the  frowns  of  his  eternal  Fath- 
er's countenance  ;  which,  for  our  consolation, 
he  patiently  submitted  to  bear. — He  was 
rent  with  wounds,  and  racked  with  pain  ; 
liis  bones  were  dislocated,  and  his  nerves 
convulsed  :  a  thousand  thorny  daggers  were 
planted  in  his  temples,  and  life  flowed  out 
at  ten  thousand  gushing  veins.  Yet  this, 
all  this  was  gentle,  was  lenient,  in  compari 


penetrated  his  very  ioul.  The  former  fetch- 
ed not  a  single  complaint  from  his  mouth ; 
the  latter  wnmg  from  his  breaking  heart 
that  passionate  exclamation  ;  "  My  God ! 
my  God  !  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?" — 
Astonishing  words  !  Surely,  a  distress,  be- 
yond all  imagination  grievous,*  uttered 
them.  Surely,  the  vengeance,  not  of  men, 
but  of  heaven  itself,  extorted  them.  Every 
syllable  of  which  speaks  what  the  mourn- 
ing prophet  describes,  "  Is  it  nothing  to 
you,  all  ye  that  pass  by  ?  Behold  and  see 
if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow, 
wherewith  the  Lord  hath  afflicted  me  in 
the  day  of  his  fierce  anger?"  (Lam.  i.  12.) 
Here  now  is  our  whole  punishment  en- 
dured ;  the  shame  of  the  cross,  and  the 
sorrows  of  death ;  the  suspension  of  the 
Almighty's  favour,  and  the  terrible  sensa- 
tions of  his  wrath. 

Ther.  Be  it  so.  Yet  all  this  amounts 
to  no  more  than  part  of  payment.  For 
these  sufferings  were  transient,  temporary 
only,  not  eternal.  Therefore  the  main  cir- 
cumstance, the  most  bitter  ingredient,  was 
wanting. 

Asp.  In  the  estimate  of  di\dne  justice, 
and  in  point  of  penal  satisfaction,  they  were 
equivalent  to  our  endless  puiushment ; 
especially  if  we  consider  the  severity  of  the 
sufferings  and  the  dignity  of  the  Sufferer. 

TTie  severity  of  the  sufferings.  At  the 
last  day,  all  those  fierce  eruptive  llames, 
which  have  raged  in  .^tna,  in  Vesuvius, 
and  in  every  other  bumingmountain  through- 
out the  world  ;  all  those  confined  subterra- 
nean fires,  which  have  so  terribly  shaken 
the  foundations  of  Jamaica,  Sicily,  and  Con- 
stantinople— in  a  word,  the  whole  element 
of  fire,  however  employed  through  all  the 
revolutions  of  time,  wherever  diffused 
through  all  the  regions  of  the  globe,  will 
then  be  collet-ted  from  all  quarters,  and 
burst  forth  into  one  vast,  resistless,  general 
conflagi'ation.  In  some  such  manner,  all 
that  wrath,  which  was  due  to  the  innumer- 


*  To  heighten  our  idea  of  this  distresi,  the  evan- 
gelists make  use  of  the  most  forcible  words — n^^urx 
ixD^fx^iiaHai,  he  was  seized  with  the  most  alarm- 
ing astonishment— aSu^orso,  he  wajs  overwhelmed 
with  insupportable  dejection —  ^'fiXyros,  he  w* 
besieged  on  all  sides,  as  it  were,  with  an  army  of 
invading  sorrows — He  wrestled  amidst  strong  cries 
and  tears,  not  only  witli  the  malice  of  men  and  rage  of 
devils,  but  with  the  infinitely  more  dreaded  indigna- 
tion of  God;  he  wrestled  even  unto  an  agony  of 
spirit,  «»  ayuvia.  All  these  circumstances  of  horror 
and  anguish,  constitute  what  a  celebrated  poet  very 
justly  styles, 
"  A  weight  of  woe  more  than  ten  worlds  could  bear '." 

The  critic,  probably,  will  admire  the  propriety  and 
beauty  of  this  line,  which,  composed  of  nothing  but 
monosyllables,  and  clogged  with  the  frequent  repeti- 
tion of  a  cumbrous  consonant,  makes  thesound  remark- 
ably apposite  to  the  sense.  May  we  all  be  sacred 
•  have  not  only  a  refined  taste  to  relish  such 


.  „  .  .  .  eleganciesof  composition,  but  an  awakened  heart,  to 

son   of  those  inexpressible    agonies,    which'fc*?  the  energy  of  such  imiwrtant  truths. 


DIALOGUE  IV. 


187 


able  multitude  of  sinners,  redeemed  from 
every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and  people,  and 
nation,  which,  if  executed  on  the  offending 
creatures,  had  been  prolonged  to  eternal 
ages — all  that  wrath  was  contracted  into  one 
inconceivably  dreadful  blaze,  and  at  once 
poured  out  upon  the  interposing  Surety  ;  at 
once  flamed  forth  on  our  heavenly  victim .  This 
will  appear  more  than  probable,  if,  among 
other  particulars,  we  contemplate  the  un- 
equalled magnanimity  of  our  Lord,  who  is 
styled  "  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah," 
(  Rev.  vi.  5. )  and  compare  it  with  his  bloody 
Bweat  in  the  garden,  and  his  exceeding  bit- 
ter cry  on  the  cross.  * 

The  dignity  of  the  Sufferer. — Had  our 
Saviom-'s  sufferings  been  the  sufferings  of  a 
mere  man,  or  of  the  most  exalted  angel,  I 
acknowledge  they  could  have  bore  no  pro- 
portion to  our  demerit.  It  were  impossi- 
ble for  a  finite  being  to  sustain  the  wrath, 
or  discharge  the  debt.  But  they  were  the 
sufferings  of  the  Prince  of  Heaven,  and  the 
Lord  of  Glory ;  before  whom  all  men  are 
as  dust,  and  all  angels  as  worms.  Was  an 
infinite  Majesty  offended  ?  An  infinite  ]\Ie- 
diator  atoned.  Weigh  the  dignity,  the  im- 
mense dignity  of  the  Redeemer's  person, 
against  the  everlasting  dui'ation  of  our  pun- 
ishment, and  it  will  not  only  counterbalance, 
but  preponderate.  Finite  creatiu-es  can 
never  make  an  infinite  satisfaction  ;  no,  not 
through  the  most  unlimited  revolution  of 
ages.  Whereas,  when  our  divine  Lord  un- 
dertook the  work,  being  truly  and  properly 
infinite,  he  finished  it  at  once.  So  that  his 
sufferings,  though  temporary,  have  an  aU- 
sufficiency  of  merit  and  efficacy.  They  are, 
in  this  respect,  parallel ;  nay,  on  account  of 
the  infinitude  of  his  nature,  they  are  more 
than  parallel  to  an  eternity  of  our  punishment. 

It  was  Emmanuel,  it  was  the  incarnate 
God,  who  purchased  the  church,  and  re- 
deemed sinners,  with  his  own  blood.  (Acts 
XX.  28.)  The  essential  grandeur  of  oiu"  Sa- 
viour communicated  its  ennobling  influence 
to  eveiy  tear  he  shed,  to  every  sigh  he  heav- 
ed, and  every  pang  he  felt. 

This  renders  his  sufferings  a  perfect,  as 
their  vicarious  nature  renders  them  a  pro- 
per, satisfaction.  And  though  "  the  wood 
of  Lebanon  was  not  sufficient  to  burn,  nor 
all  the  beasts  thereof  sufficient  for  a  burnt- 
offering,"  (Isa.  xl.  16,)  this  sacrifice  fully 
answers  the  exigence  of  the  case.  This 
sacrifice  sends  up  an  ever-acceptable  odour 
to  the  skies,  and  diffuses  its  sweet  perfume 
tlirough  all  generations  ;  such  as  appeases 
heaven,  and  revives  the  world. 

Yes,  Theron,  you  must  give  mc  leave  to 


♦  I  think  the  languaReof  the  Greek  liturgy  is  the 
language  of  strict  propriety,  as  well  as  of  fervent  de- 
votion, Ai'  ayiiM^uv  e  u  Tocfyifi.aTuv.  The  suffer- 
ings of  our  I.ord  arc,  in  their  measure  and  weight, 
to  us  unknown  ;  absolutely  beyond  the  reach  of  hu- 
man imagination. 


repeat  the  delightful  truth :  It  was  "  the 
great  God,  even  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
who  gave  himself  for  us."  (Tit.  ii.  13,  14.) 
His  sacrifice,  therefore,  must  be  inconceiv- 
ably meritorious.  O  that  sinners,  the  vilest 
of  sinners,  knew  its  all-sufficient  efficacy  ! 
they  would  no  longer  be  holden  in  the 
bonds  of  iniquity,  by  that  destructive  sug- 
gestion of  the  devil,  "  There  is  no  hope." 
(Jer.  ii.  25.) 

Ther.  What  valuable  end  could  such  vi- 
carious sufferings  accomplish  ?  Suppose 
God  absolutely  inexorable,  and  they  cannot 
avail.  Suppose  him  divinely  merciful,  and 
they  are  needless. 

Asp.  The  difficulty  you  propose,  I  think, 
has  been  obviated  already ;  so  that  I  have 
no  occasion  to  solve  your  dilemma,  but  only 
to  answer  your  query.  These  sufferings,  as 
a  punishment,  gave  ample  satisfaction  to  the 
divine  violated  law  ;  as  a  sacrifice,  they  per- 
fectly reconciled  us  to  our  offended  God  ; 
as  a  price,  they  redeemed  us  from  every 
evil,  and  purchased  for  us  a  title  to  all  good. 

This  is  a  subject  of  the  most  distinguish- 
ed importance.  Let  not  my  Theron  ima- 
gine, I  would  abuse  his  patience,  if  I  dwell 
a  moment  longer  on  the  favourite  topic.  I 
might  enumerate  many  ends,  all  magnificent 
and  gracious,  accomplished  by  this  wonder- 
ful expedient.  I  content  myself  with  spe- 
cifying a  few  ;  but  those,  such  as  bring  the 
highest  glory  to  God,  administer  the  most 
solid  comfort  to  man,  and  most  effectually 
promote  the  interests  of  piety. 

In  this  we  have  a  manifestation  of  the 
most  awful  justice,  and  at  the  same  time  a 
display  of  unbounded  goodness.  Awful 
justice,  in  that  the  great  and  terrible  God, 
though  determined  to  exercise  mercy,  would 
exercise  it  only  in  such  a  maimer  as  might 
vindicate  the  authority  of  his  law,  might 
testify  the  purity  of  his  nature,  and  declare 
the  inviolable  faithfulness  of  his  word.  Un- 
bounded goodness;  in  that  he  withheld  not 
his  Son,  his  only  Son,  but  freely  gave  him 
up  for  us  aU  ;  gave  up  "  the  brightness  of 
his  glory,"  to  be  covered  with  infamy  ;  gave 
up  "  the  beloved  of  his  soul,"  to  expire  in 
agonies  ;  on  purpose  to  obtain  honour  and 
immortality  for  apostate  men.  The  tor- 
ments inflicted  on  all  the  damned  in  hell, 
are  not  so  fearfid  a  monument  of  God's  jus- 
tice, as  those  dying  agonies  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Chi^st.  Nor  could  a  thousand  worlds 
conferred  on  mankind,  have  been  such  an 
act  of  superiibundant  munificence,  as  that 
gift  of  his  ever-blessed  Son. 

Look  we  for  power  and  wisdom  ?  To  up- 
hold tlie  humanity  of  Christ,  under  all  the 
studied  cruelties  of  men,  under  the  insatiate 
rage  of  devils,  and  the  far  more  tremendous 
curse  of  the  divine  law  ;*  to   conquer  sin, 

•  Isaiah  xliii.  0.  "  I  the  Lord,  will  hold  thine 
liaiid,  and  will  keep  thee."    This  is  spoken  of  the 


188 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


and  death,  and  hell,  by  a  person  bound  with 
fetters,  nailed  to  a  tree,  and  crucitied  in 
weakness  ;  to  expiate,  by  one  offering,  the 
innumerable  millions  of  crimes  committed 
by  all  his  people  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end  of  time  :  was  not  this  power  ?  match- 
less power  !  astonishing  power  !  And  as 
for  wisdom,  how  admirable  was  the  contriv- 
ance, which  could  harmonize  the  seemingly 
opposite  claims  of  mercy  and  of  justice  ! 
and  not  only  satisfy  each,  but  mag^fy  both  ! 
Had  punishment  been  executed  in  all  its  ri- 
gour on  the  sinner's  person,  mercy  had  lost 
her  amiable  honours.  Had  the  sinner  been 
restored  to  favour,  without  any  penalties 
sustained  either  by  himself  or  his  Surety, 
justice  had  been  set  aside  as  an  insignificant 
attribute.  Whereas,  by  our  Lord's  vicari- 
ous and  expiatory  sufferings,  both  are  mani- 
fested, and  both  are  exalted.  Therefore 
the  Scripture  affirms,  that  God  hath  not 
only  exercised,  but  abounded  in  wisdom  and 
prudence ;  nay,  hath  abounded  in  all  wis- 
dom and  prudence,  (Eph.  i.  8,)  by  this 
combination  of  righteous  vengeance  and 
triumphant  grace,  which  is  at  once  so  hon- 
ourable to  himself  and  so  advantageous  to 
his  people. 

Thcr.  "  Advantageous  to  his  people." — 
I  am  glad  you  are  come  to  this  point. 
This  is  what  I  want  to  have  cleared  up.  I 
am  for  those  doctrines,  which  glorify  God 
by  doing  good  to  man.  Give  me  the  reli- 
gion whose  aspect  is  benign,  and  whose 
agency  is  beneficial :  not  like  a  meteor,  to 
dazzle  us  with  a  vain  glitter ;  or  like  a 
comet,  to  terrify  us  with  a  formidable  glare ; 
but  like  yonder  sun,  whose  beams  shed 
light,  and  life,  and  joy  all  around. 

Asp.  If  this  be  what  you  seek,  and  what 
you  prize,  the  Christian  religion,  this  doc- 
trine in  particular,  uall  answer  your  warmest 
expectations,  and  challenge  your  highest  es- 
teem ;  for  it  is  rich  with  benefits  of  the 
most  needful,  the  most  desirable,  and  most 
exalted  kind. — The  first  and  grand  blessing 
is  pardon  of  sins  ;  pardon,  not  of  small  sins 
only,  but  of  the  most  aggravated,  the  most 
horrid,  the  most  enormous.  Be  they  flam- 
ing as  scarlet,  be  they  foul  as  the  dunghill, 
be  they  black  as  hell  itself — yet  they  shall 
be  as  the  spotless  wool,  or  as  the  virgin 
snows.  Isaiah  i  18.  They  shall  "  be,  as 
though  they  had  never  been."  Pardon,  not 
of  a  few,  but  of  all  sins.  Be  they  numer- 
ous as  the  hairs  of  our  hcatC  numerous 
as  the  stars  of  heaven,  numerous  as  the 
Piind  upon  the  sea- shore,  the  blood  of 
Jesus  cleanseth  from  them  all.  ( 1  John  i.  7. ) 


Messiah.  It  gives  him  assurance  of  effectual  support, 
when  the  vengeance  of  heaven,  the  fury  of  Iiell,  and 
the  sins  of  the  world,  should  fall  upon  him  with  unit- 
ed violence.  To  support  the  Mediator  under  these 
circumstances,  is  mentioned  as  a  very  distinguished 
act  of  that  onmijiolcnt  arm,  which  created  the  hea- 
vens, and  spread  forth  the  earth,  and  yivelh  spirit 
to  ;htia  th.it  walk  therein,  vcr.  5. 


Hereby  we  have  victory  over  death,  and 
admittance  into  everlasting  life.  For  thus 
saith  the  holy  apostle,  concerning  the  poor 
sojourners  in  clay.  "Seeing  therefore  the 
children  were  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood, 
he  also  partook  of  the  same  :  that,  by  un- 
dergoing death  he  might  destroy  him  who 
had  the  power  of  death,  that  is  the  devil  • 
and  deliver  those  who,  through  fear  of  death, 
were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage." 
(Heb.  ii.  14,  15.)  And  thus  saith  the  ve- 
nerable elder,  concerning  the  glorified  saints 
in  light :  "  These  are  they  who  came  out 
of  great  tribulation  ;  and  they  have  washed 
their  robes,  and  made  them  white  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb ;  therefore  are  they  be- 
fore the  throne."  (Rev.  vii.  14.) 

The  Philistines  rejoiced  when  Samson, 
the  destroyer  of  their  country,  was  delivered 
into  their  hands.  How  much  greater  rea- 
son have  we  to  rejoice,  since  the  blessed 
Jesus  has  vanquished  our  last  enemy  !  has 
made  death  the  minister  of  endless  life,  and 
the  grave  a  gate  to  eternal  glory  !  Joseph 
had  cause  to  be  glad,  when  he  put  oS  his 
prison-garments,  and  was  clothed  with 
change  of  raiment ;  when  he  was  brought 
from  the  diuigeon  to  the  palace,  and  hon- 
oured with  a  seat  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
king.  But  is  it  not  an  incomparably  richer 
blessing,  to  have  our  robes  washed  in  re- 
deeming blood,  and  our  souls  cleansed  from 
all  guilt .''  Is  it  not  an  incomparably  higher 
advancement,  to  be  admitted  into  the  bliss- 
ful presence,  and  to  possess  the  everlasting 
kingdom  of  God  ? 

To  comprehend  all  in  a  word Hereby 

are  procured,  even  for  the  most  unworthy 
creatures,  all  the  benefits  of  the  new  cove- 
nant. Therefore  the  blood  of  Christ  is 
styled  by  a  prophet,  "  the  blood  of  thy  cove- 
nant," (Zech.  ix.  11.)  by  an  apostle,  "the 
blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant,"  ( Heb. 
xiii.  20.)  and  our  Lord  himself  says,  "  this 
is  the  new  covenant  in  my  blood,"  (Luke 
xxii.  20.)  Is  it  a  privilege  to  know  God, 
the  infinitely  amiable  centre  and  source  of 
all  perfection  ?  Is  it  a  most  valuable  en- 
dowment to  have  his  laws  put  into  our 
minds,  and  written  on  our  hearts  ?  Is  it  a 
branch  of  real  felicity  to  have  our  number- 
less sins  forgiven,  and  not  one  of  om:  ini- 
quities remembered  any  more  ?  Is  it  the 
compendium  of  all  happiness  to  have  God 
for  our  portion  and  our  exceeding  great  re- 
ward ?  to  be  his  peculiar  treasiu-e,  his  lov- 
ing and  beloved  people  ?  (  Heb.  riii.  10 — 12. 
Of  all  these  we  may  say,  They  are  tlie  piu- 
chase  of  Immanuel's  blood  ;  and  whoever 
is  truly  interested  in  the  one,  is  unques- 
tionably entitled  to  the  other. 

Who,  then,  would  refuse  so  comfort- 
able— 

Ther.  Too  comfortable,  we  might  ima- 
gine, to  be  either  tiije  in   itself,  or  safe  in 


DIALOGUE  IV 


189 


its  consequences.  Must  knot  tend  to  im- 
bolden  the  sinner  in  the  prosecution  of  his 
vices  ?  Who  need  scruple  to  transgress,  or 
be  very  solicitous  to  repent,  if  an  all-aton- 
inf^  sacrifice  has  been  offered  for  every  kind 
and  every  degree  of  wickedness  ? 

Asp.  Would  you  have  sinners  intimidat- 
ed ?  Nothing  speaks  such  terror  to  the 
children  of  disobedience,  as  the  bitter  pas- 
sion and  accursed  death  of  Christ.  All  the 
rhetorical  aggravations  of  sin,  with  regard 
to  its  loathsome  nature,  and  execrable  vile- 
ness  ;  all  the  severity  of  vengeance,  execut- 
ed upon  rebellious  angels  or  wicked  men  ; 
all,  all  are  weak  and  inexpressive,  compar- 
ed with  the  dreadful  emphasis  of  this  great 
transaction.  For  if  the  Lord  Almighty, 
spared  not  his  own  Son,  when  guilt  was  not 
found  in  him,  but  only  imputed  to  him  ; 
how  much  less  shall  he  spare  inconigible 
offt'iiders,  who  both  habitually  commit,  and 
obstinately  persist  in  their  daring  impieties  ? 

If,  by  repentance,  you  mean  an  ingenuous 
sorrow  for  our  transgi'essions,  nothing  is  so 
likely  to  break  the  stony,  or  melt  the  icy 
heart,  as  these  doleful  effects  of  sin.  Let  us 
imag'ine  ourselves  present  at  Calvai-y,  and 
standing  by  the  cross.  See  !  the  innocent, 
the  amiable,  the  illustrious  Saviour,  hangs 
on  a  tree — a  tree,  torturous  as  the  rack, 
and  ignominious  as  the  gibbet !  See  !  his 
face  is  foid  with  spitting,  and  his  sides  are 
torn  with  the  scourge.  His  veins  stream 
■  with  blood,  and  his  heart  is  wounded  with 
anguish.  There  he  hangs,  abandoned  by  his 
friends,  reviled  by  his  enemies,  and  forsaken 
even  by  his  God.  Can  we  reflect,  that  we, 
even  we,  were  the  cause  of  this  inconsolable 
misery,  and  not  feel  remorse  in  our  con- 
sciences, or  sorrow  in  our  minds  ?  Can  we 
reflect,  that  for  us,  for  us  he  bore  this  amaz- 
ing torment,  and  not  smite  our  breasts,  or 
be  pained  at  our  very  souls  ? 

If,  by  repentance,  you  mean  a  thorough 
renunciation  of  all  iniquity,  no  motive  is  so 
efl^ectual  to   divorce   the  heart  from   every 
abominable  idol,  and  divert  the  feet  from  every 
:  evil  way,  as  an   attentive   consideration  of 

©ur  Redeemer's  d«\th.  WTiose  indignation 
does  not  rise  against  the  infamous  wretch 
that  betrayed  the  blessed  Jesus  ?  who  is 
not  ready  to  detest  those  envenomed  tongues 
which  accused  him,  and  those  barbarous 
hands  which  crucified  him?  Hovv  then 
can  we  cherish  those  horrid  lusts,  which 
were  the  principal  actors  in  this  deepest  of 
tragedies  ?  How  can  we  caress,  how  can 
we  entertain,  how  can  we  endure  those  ex- 
ecrable iniquities,  which  were  the  betrayers 
and  murderers  of  the  Prince  of  Life?  "  He 
bore  our  sins  in  his  own  bleeding,  agonizing 
body  on  the  tree;"  not  that  we  should  be 
imboldened  to  forsake  them,  but  incited  to 
abhor  them,  and  induced  to  forsake  them  ; 
that,  in  our  practice  and  out  afi"ections  we 


shotdd  not  only  be  averse,  but  even  "  dead  to 
sin,"  (1  Pet.  ii.  24.) 

If  you  would  have  benevolence,  your  fa- 
vourite principle,  take  place  and  operate,  it 
is  impossible  to  lu-ge  so  endearing  a  per- 
suasive to  universal  good-will  as  this  "  kind- 
ness and  love  of  God  our  Saviour,"  ( Tit. 
iii.  4.)  Hovv  can  we  indulge  the  sallies  of 
resentment,  or  harbour  the  seeds  of  animo- 
sity, when  the  meek,  the  merciful,  the  infi- 
nitely gracious  Redeemer,  laid  down  his 
life  for  his  bitterest  enemies  ?  How  can 
we  treat  with  contempt  or  indifference,  even 
the  meanest  of  mankind,  since  our  divine 
Master  gave  his  all-glorious  person  for  vile 
wretches,  and  miserable  sinners?  Never 
was  there  so  winning  a  call  to  disinterested 
charity,  as  the  amiable  example  of  ('hrist  j 
never  so  binding  a  cement  of  brotherly  love, 
as  the  blood  of  the  crucified  Jesus. 

In  short,  would  you  have  people  possess- 
ed of  every  heavenly  virtue,  and  animated 
to  the  practice  of  every  good  work  ?  No- 
thing administers  so  powerful  an  incitement 
to  them  all,  as  a  lively  and  appro{)riating 
sense  of  this  wondrous  grace.  Set  home 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,*  it  produces  such  a 
warm  gratitude,  and  such  a  heart-felt  joy, 
as  are  far  more  operative  than  the  most 
awful  threatenings,  or  the  most  cogent  rea- 
sonings. So  that,  quite  contrary  to  your 
suspicions,  the  native  tendency  of  this  ex- 
cellent doctrine  is,  to  suppress  ungodliness, 
and  promote  piety. 

Observe  how  the  present  calm  evening, 
yonder  mild  declining  sun,  and  these  soft 
balmy  breezes,  have  unlocked  the  flowery 
prisons,  and  detached  a  profusion  of  odours 
through  the  air;  have  inspirited  the  little 
songsters  of  the  grove,  and  fetched  lavish 
hannony  from  their  throats.  So  sweetly 
will  a  true  belief  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  him 
crucified,  draw  forth  all  the  powers  of  the 
soul,  in  acts  of  ready  and  cheerful  obedience. 
He  is  therefore  said,  not  only  to  justify,  but 
also  to  "  sanctify  the  people  with  his  blood," 
(Heb.  xiii.  12.) 

Let  us  consider  the  death  of  Christ,  in 
this  its  full  grandeur  and  extensive  efficacy, 
and  we  sliall  discern  the  admirable  proprie- 
ty of  the  apostle's  remark,  "  It  became  him, 
for  whom  are  all  things,  and  by  whom  are 
all  things,  in  bringing  many  sons  unto  glory, 
to  make  the  Captain  of  their  salvation  per- 
fect through  sufferings,"  (Heb.  ii.  10.)     It 


*  The  reader  will  give  me  leave,  on  this  occasion, 
to  subjoin  the  noble  aoxology  of  our  church ;  which, 
when  thus  applied,  may  be  an  excellent  means,  both 
of  expressing  our  gratitude,  and  of  quickening  our 
devotion.  "  Glory  be  to  the  Father,"  for  providing 
this  all-sufficient  atonement,  and  giving  his  Son  to 
save  a  ruined  world.  "  Glory  be  to  the  Son,"  for 
humbling  himself  lo  the  death  of  the  cross,  and  ob- 
taining eternal  redemption  for  sinners.  "  Glory  be  to 
the  Holy  Ghost,"  for  testifying  of  Christ  in  our 
hearts,  and  appropriating  this  great  salvation  to  our 
souls. 


190 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


became,  as  an  act  of  sovereignty  in  God,  it 
comported  with  the  dignity,  and  emblazon- 
ed (if  I  may  so  speak)  the  incomprehensible 
majesty  of  his  perfections.  As  an  execu- 
tion of  impartial  vengeance  on  our  Surety, 
it  asserted  the  rights  of  divine  government, 
and  secured  the  utmost  veneration  to  the 
divine  law.  As  an  emanation  of  rich  in- 
dulgence to  us,  it  redressed  all  oiu-  misery, 
and  retrieves  oiur  whole  happiness.  In  each, 
in  every  respect,  it  is  worthy  of  the  most 
grateful  and  adoring  acceptance  from  sinful 
man,  and  such  as  will  be  had  in  everlasting 
honour  by  the  choirs  of  saints,  and  the 
host  of  angels. 

Ther.  I  thank  you,  Aspasio.  Your  argu- 
ments have  not  indeed  converted  me,  but 
they  have  strengthened  my  faith.  I  never 
was  so  unhappily  mistaken,  as  to  disbelieve 
the  satisfaction  made  by  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ;  made  to  divine  justice  ;  made  for 
the  sins  of  the  world.  But  I  now  see  more 
clearly  its  reasonableness  and  importance  ; 
its  cheering  aspect  on  the  guilty  conscience, 
and  its  benign  influence  on  the  moral  con- 
duct. 

Asp.  I  congratulate  you,  dear  Theron, 
from  my  inmost  soul,  on  your  thorough  con- 
viction of  this  important  truth.  May  you 
have  still  more  extensive  and  generous  views 
of  the  glorious  article  !  and  may  every  re- 
newed view  be  more  and  more  influential 
on  your  heart ! 

Reviving,  ravishing  thought !  to  have  him 
for  our  bleeding  victim  !  him  for  our  great 
propitiation  !  at  whose  feet  the  armies  of 
heaven  bow,  and  the  saints  in  light  adore  ! 
reviving,  ra\ashing  thought !  to  have  all  our 
punishment  sustained,  and  the  whole  ciu-se 
of  the  law  exhausted  ;  so  that  justice  itself 
can  demand  no  moic!  Nay,  to  have  so  per- 
fect a  ransom  paid  for  our  redemption,  that 
it  is  not  barely  an  act  of  favourable  indul- 
gence, but  of  the  highest  righteousness*  also, 
to  pardon,  accept,  and  glorify  the  believer. 
In  such  a  method  of  reconciliation,  how 
fully  does  the  judgment  acquiesce,  and  how 
securely  the  conscience  rest ! 

Excuse  me,  Theron.  My  affections  are 
again  upon  the  soar.  But  I  clip  their 
wings.  —  Only  let  me  ask,  is  not  this  doc- 
trine the  grand  peculiarity  of  the  gospel,  by 
which  it  stands  distinguished  from  every 
other  religion  professed  in  the  world  ?  Is  it 
not  the  central  point,  in  which  all  the  lines 
of  duty  unite,  and  from  which  all  the  rays 


•  Therefore  the  apostle  says,  "  God  is  faithful  and 
just  to  forgive  us  our  sins."  1  John  i.  9.  Faithful; 
because  he  had  promised  this  blessing,  by  the  unani- 
mous voice  of  all  his  prophets.  Just;  surely  then  he 
will  punish  !  No;  for  this  very  reason  he  will  pardon. 
This  may  seem  strange ;  but,  upon  the  evangelical 
principles  of  atonement  and  redemption,  it  is  appar- 
ently true:  because,  when  the  debt  is  paid,  or  the 
purchase  made,  it  is  the  nart  of  equity  to  cancel  Uie 
Lund,  and  consign  over  the  purchased  possession. 


of  consolation  proceed  ?  Strike  this  article 
from  the  creed,  and  you  reduce  the  mystery 
of  godliness  to  a  system  of  ethics  ;  you  de- 
grade the  Christian  church  into  a  school  of 
philosophy.  To  deny  the  expiation  made 
by  our  Redeemer's  sacrifice,  is  to  obscure 
the  brightest  manifestation  of  divine  be- 
nignity, and  to  undermine  the  principal  pil- 
lar of  practical  religion  ;  is  to  make  a  des- 
perate shipwreck  of  our  everlasting  interests, 
and  to  dash  (such,  I  fear,  it  will  be  found 
in  the  final  issue  of  things)  ourselves  to 
death  on  the  very  rock  of  salvation. 

Ther.  Now,  I  believe  it  is  time  to  repair 
homewards.  And  I  hope  it  will  be  no  dis- 
agreeable exchange,  if  we  resign  our  seat 
on  the  mount  for  a  place  in  the  dining- 
room. 

Asp.  Pray,  let  me  inquire,  as  we  walk 
along,  (for  I  was  unwilling  to  interrupt  our 
discourse,  merely  to  gratify  my  curiosity,) 
what  may  be  the  design  of  yonder  edifice, 
which  rises  on  a  small  eminence,  near  the 
public  road  ?  It  is  neither  a  tower,  nor  a 
dwelling-house  ;  but  looks  like  a  stately 
column,  erected  on  purpose  to  beautify  the 
prospect. 

Ther.  It  is  a  sort  of  monumental  pile  : 
erected,  as  the  story  goes,  on  a  very  me- 
morable occasion.  Queen  Eleanor  accom- 
panied King  Edward  the  First  to  (what 
was  called)  the  holy  war ;  in  which  he 
gained  signal  advantages  over  the  infidels, 
and  acquired  a  large  share  of  renown  to 
himself.  After  many  gallant  exploits  per- 
formed in  the  field,  a  treacherous  and  des- 
perate Saracen,  demanding  admittance  into 
his  chamber,  under  pretence  of  private  busi- 
ness, woimded  him  with  an  impoisoned  dag- 
ger. The  consequence  of  which,  his  phy- 
sicians declared,  must  be  inevitable  and 
speedy  death,  unless  the  poison  was  sucked 
out  by  some  human  mouth.  This  might 
possibly  preserve  the  royal  patient,  but 
would  be  extremely  dangerous  to  the  oper- 
ator. 

Dangerous  as  it  was,  his  Queen  claimed 
the  office  ;  insisted  upon  it,  as  the  consort's 
right ;  and  executed  it  so  faithfully,  that  she 
saved  the  king's  life — so  happily,  that  she 
lost  not  her  own.  After  this,  she  retiuTied 
to  England,  lived  many  years,  and  bore  se- 
veral children.  But,  sooner  or  later,  royalty 
itself  must  pay  the  debt  to  natiu^e.  Dying 
on  a  jomTiey  to  Scotland,  she  was  brought 
back  to  the  last  and  long  home  of  oiu-  En- 
glish monarchs.*  Wherever  her  corpse 
rested,  in  the  way  to  its  interment,  a  struc- 
ture,! (such  as  you  now  behold)  was  raised. 


*  Westminster  Abbey. 

t  One  of  these  structures  stands  on  the  high  roatf, 
near  Northampton.  It  is  surrounded  with  a  large 
flight  of  steps,  at  the  bottom;  and  ornamented  to- 
wards the  top,  with  four  fcmalg  statues,  in  full  prQ. 


DIALOGUE  V. 


.191 


in  order  to  porpetuate  the  memory  of  her 
conjugal  iiffection. 

Asp.  And  should  not  our  hearts  be  a 
monument  of  gratitude  to  the  blessed  Je- 
sus ?  who  drew  the  deadly  venom,  not 
from  our  veins,  but  from  the  immortal  part 
of  our  nature  ;  and  not  at  the  hazard,  but 
at  the  loss,  the  certain  and  unavoidable  loss 
of  his  precious  life  ?  He  opened  his  breast, 
opened  his  very  soul,  to  the  keenest  arrows 
of  vindictive  justice  ;  that,  transfixing  him, 
they  might  drop  short  of  us  ;  "  the  poison 
whereof  drank  up  his  spirits,"  (Job  vi.  4,) 
that  the  balm  of  peace  might  refresh  ours. 

O,  my  Theron  !  let  our  memories  be  the 
tablet,  to  record  tliis  unexampled  instance 
of  compassion  and  goodness.  Let  our  af- 
fections dwell  upon  the  tragical,  the  delight- 
ful history  ;  till  they  melt  into  contrition, 
and  are  inflamed  with  love.  If  we  want  an 
inscription,  let  us  make  use  of  those  noble 
lines,  which,  in  the  finest  climax  imaginable, 
describe  the  magnificence  and  grace  of  this 
astonishing  transaction  : 

"  Survey  the  wondrous  cure. 

And  at  each  step  kt  higher  wonder  rise. 
Pardon  for  infinite  oflfence  !  and  pardon 
Through  means  that  speak  its  value  infinite ! 
A  pardon  bought  with  blood  !  with  blood  divine  ! 
With  blood  divine  of  him  I  made  my  foe  ! 
Persisted  to  provoke  !  Though  woo'd  and  aw'd, 
Hless'd  and  chastised,  a  flagrant  rebel  still; 
Nor  I  alone !  A  rebel  universe  ! 
My  species  up  in  arms  !   N  ot  one  exempt ! 
Yet  for  the  foulest  of  the  foul,  he  dies !" 

Niglit  Thoughts,  No.  iv. 


DIALOGUE  V. 

AsPASio  having  some  letters  of  import- 
ance to  answer,  as  soon  as  the  cloth  was 
taken  away,  retired  frym  table.  His  epis- 
tolary engagements  being  dispatched,  he 
inquired  for  Theron.  The  servants  in- 
formed him  that  their  master  walked  into  the 
garden.  A  very  little  search  found  him 
seated  on  an  airy  mount,  and  sheltered  by 
an  elegant  arbour. 

Strong  and  substantial  plants  of  labur- 
num formed  the  shell,  while  the  slender  and 
flexile  shoots  of  syringia  filled  up  the  inter- 
stices. Was  it  to  compliment,  as  well  as 
to  accommodate  tlieir  worthy  guests,  that 
they  interwove  the  luxuriant  foliage  ?  Was 
it  to  represent  those  tender  but  close  at- 
tachments, which  had  united  their  affections, 
and  blended  their  interests  ?  I  will  not  too 
positively  ascribe  such  a  design  to  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  branches.  They  composed,  liow- 
ever,  by  their  twining  embraces,  no  inexpres- 
sive emblem  of  the  endearments  and  the  ad- 
vantages of  friendship.      They  composed  a 


canopy  of  the  freshest  verdure,  and  of  the 
thickest  texture  ;  so  thick,  that  it  entirely 
excluded  the  sultry  ray,  and  shed  both  a 
cool  refreshment,  and  an  amusive  gloom  ; 
while  every  unsheltered  tract  glared  with 
light  or  fainted  with  heat. 

You  enter  by  an  easy  ascent  of  steps, 
lined  with  turf,  and  fenced  with  a  balus- 
trade of  sloping  bay-trees.  The  roof  was 
a  fine  concave,  peculiarly  elevated  and 
stately.  Not  embossed  with  sculpture,  not 
mantled  over  with  fret-work,  not  incrusted 
with  splendid  fresco  ;  but  far  more  deli- 
cately adorned  with  the  syringa's  silver  tufts, 
and  the  laburnum's  flowering  gold ;  whose 
large  and  lovely  clusters,  gracefully  pendent 
from  the  leafy  dome,  disclosing  their  sweets 
to  the  delighted  bee,  and  gently  waving  to 
the  balmy  breath  of  spring,  gave  the  utmost 
enrichment  to  the  charming  bower. 

Facing  the  entrance,  lay  a  spacious  grassy 
walk,  terminated  by  an  octangular  basin 
\vith  a  curious  jet  d'emi  playing  in  the  centre. 
The  waters,  spinning  from  the  lower  ori- 
fices, were  attenuated  into  innumerable 
little  threads,  which  dispersed  themselves 
in  a  horizontal  direction,  and  returned  to 
the  reservoir  in  a  drizzling  shower.  Those 
which  issued  from  the  higher  tubes,  and 
larger  apertures,  either  spmng  perpendicu- 
larly, or  spouted  obliquely,  and  formed  as 
they  fell,  several  lofty  arches  of  liquid  crys- 
tal, all  glittering  to  the  eye  and  cooling  to 
the  air. 

Parallel  to  the  walk  ran  a  parterre,  plant- 
ed with  an  assemblage  of  flowers,  which 
advanced  one  above  another,  in  regidar  gra- 
dations of  height,  of  dignity,  and  of  beairty. 
First,  a  row  of  daisies,  gay  as  the  smile  of 
youth,  and  fair  as  tbe  virgin  snows.  Next, 
a  range  of  crocuses,  like  a  long  stripe  of 
yellow  satin,  quilted  with  threads,  or  diver- 
sified with  sj)rigs  of  gi'een.  A  superior 
order  of  ranunculuses,  each  resembling  the 
cap  of  an  earl's  coronet,  r^lenished  the 
third  story  with  full  blowTi  tufts  of  glossy 
scarlet.  Beyond  this,  a  more  elevated  line 
of  tulips*  raised  their  flourished  heads,  and 


portion.     A  latin  inscription  informs  the  traveller, 
concerning  its  occasion  ami  design : 
"  In  perpetuam  Regina;  Eleanora: 
Conjugalis  amoris  raemoriain." 


•  Here  is,  it  must  be  confessed,  somelittle  deviation 
from  the  general  laws  of  the  season ;  some  anachorism 
in  the  annals  of  the  parterre.  The  flowers  united  in 
this  representation  do  not,  according  to  the  usual  pro- 
cess of  nature,  make  their  appearance  together. 
However,  as,  by  the  economy  of  a  skilful  gardener, 
they  may  be  thus  associated,  I  hope  the  possibility 
of  the  thing  will  screen  my  tlowery  productions  from 
theblasts  of  censure.  Or,  may  I  not  snelter  my  bloom- 
ing asscmljly  under  the  remark  of  a  masterly  critic, 
which  is  as  pertinent  to  the  case,  as  if  it  had  been 
written  on  purpose  for  our  vindication;  and  in  all 
respects  so  elegant,  that  it  must  adorn  every  work 
which  quotes  it,  and  charm  every  person  who  reads 
it? 

"  A  painter  of  nature  is  not  obliged  to  attend  her 
in  her  slow  advances,  which  she  makes  from  one  sea- 
son to  another ;  or  to  observe  her  conduct  in  the  suc- 
cessive product  ions  of  plants  and  flowers.  He  may  draw 
into  his  description  all  the  beauties  of  the  Spring  and 
.\utumn,  and  make  the  whole  year  contribute  some- 
thing to  render  it  more  agreeable.  His  rose  trees,  wood 


102 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


opened  their  enamelled  cups  ;  not  bedecked 
with  a  single  tint  only,  but  glowing  with  an 
intermingled  variety  of  almost  every  radiant 
hue.  Above  all  arose  that  noble  ornament 
of  a  royal  escutcheon,  the  fleur-de-luce, 
bright  with  etherial  blue,  and  grand  vvdth 
imperial  piu-ple ;  which  formed,  by  its 
gi-aceful  projections,  a  cornice  or  a  capital 
of  more  than  Corinthian  richness,  and  im- 
parted the  most  consiunmate  beauty  to  the 
blooming  colonnade. 

The  whole,  viewed  from  the  arbour, 
looked  like  a  rainbow  painted  upon  the 
ground,  and  wanted  nothing  to  rival  that 
resplendent  arch,  only  the  boldness  of  its 
sweep,  and  the  advantage  of  its  ornamental 
cui've. 

To  this  agreeable  recess  Theron  had 
withdrawn  himself.  Here  he  sat  musing 
and  thoughtful,  with  his  eye  fixed  upon  a 
picture  representing  some  magnificent  ruins. 
Wholly  intent  upon  his  speculation,  he 
never  perceived  the  approach  of  Aspasio, 
till  he  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  mount, 
and  was  ready  to  take  a  seat  by  his  side. 

Asp.  Lost,  Theron  !  quite  lost  in 
thought !  and  unaffected  with  all  these  ami- 
able objects  ;  insensible  amidst  this  profu- 
sion of  beauties,  which,  from  every  quarter, 
make  their  court  to  your  senses  !  Methinks, 
the  snarling  cynic  in  his  tub,  could  hardly 
put  on  a  greater  severity  of  aspect  than  my 
polite  philosopher  in  his  blooming  Eden. 

Ther.  Ah  !  my  dear  friend,  these  flowery 
toys,  which  embellish  the  garden,  are  fami- 
liar to  my  eye,  and  therefore  cheap  in  my 
esteem.  I  behold  them  frequently,  and 
for  that  reason,  feel  but  little  of  the  pleas- 
ing surprise  which  they  may  possibly  awaken 
in  a  stranger.  Something  like  this  we  all 
experience  with  regard  to  events  infinitely 
more  worthy  our  admiring  notice.  Else, 
why  are  we  not  struck  with  a  mixture  of 
amazement,  veneration,  and  delight,  at  the 
grand  macliinfery  and  magnificent  produc- 
tions of  nature  ? 

That  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  should 
wheel  roimd  the  vast  terrestrial  globe,  with 
such  prodigious  rapidity  and  exact  punctu- 


bines  and  jessamines  may  flourish  together.andhisbeds 
be  covered  at  the  same  time  with  lilies,  violets,  and 
amaranthuses.  His  soil  is  not  restrained  to  any  par- 
ticular set  of  plants,  but  is  proper  either  for  oaks  or 
myrtles,  and  adapts  itself  to  the  product  of  every  cli- 
mate.—Oranges  may  grow  wild  in  it ;  myrrh  may  be 
met  witli  in  every  hedge  ;  and  if  he  thinks  it  proper 
to  have  agrove  of  spices,  he  can  quickly  command  sun 
enough  to  raise  it.  His  concerts  of  birds  may  be  as 
full  and  harmonious,  and  his  woods  as  thick  and 
gloomy  as  he  pleases.  He  is  at  ncr  more  expense  in  a 
long  vista  than  a  short  one,  and  can  as  easily  throw 
his  cascades  from  a  precipice  of  half  a  mile  high,  as 
from  one  of  twenty  yards.  He  has  the  choice  of  the 
winds,  and  can  turn  the  course  of  his  rivers  in  all  the 
variety  of  meanders,  that  are  most  delightful  to  the 
reader's  imagination.  In  a  word,  he  has  the  model- 
ling of  nature  in  his  own  hands,  and  may  give  her 
what  charms  he  pleases,  provided  he  does  not  reform 
her  too  much,  and  run  into  absurdities  by  endeavour- 
ing to  excel."^Spect.  Vol.  vi.  No.  41S. 


alit}',  on  purpose  to  produce  the  regular  vi. 
cissitudes  of  day  and  night,  on  purpose  to 
bring  on  the  orderly  succession  of  seed-time 
and  harvest !  We  wonder  when  we  read  of 
the  Israelites  sojoiu'ning  forty  years  in  the 
desert,  marching  backward  and  forward 
over  its  burning  sands,  and  find  neither 
their  clothes  waxing  old,  ( Deut-  viiL  4,) 
by  so  long  a  use,  nor  their  feet  swelling 
with  so  painful  joumies.  (Neh.  ix.  21.) 
Yet  we  are  neither  impressed  with  wonder, 
nor  affected  with  gratitude,  when  we  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  the  air,  which  clothes  the 
earth,  as  it  were,  \vith  a  garment ;  which  has 
neither  contracted  any  noxious  taint  through 
the  extensive  revolution  of  almost  six  thou- 
sand years,  nor  suffered  any  diminution  of 
its  natural  force,  though  exercised  in  a  se- 
ries of  unremitted  activity,  ever  since  the 
elementary  operations  began. 

This  draught  in  my  hand,  shows  us  the 
instability  of  the  grandest,  most  laboured 
monuments  of  human  art.  They  are  soon 
swept  away  among  the  other  feeble  attempts 
of  mortality ;  or  remain  only,  as  you  see 
here,  in  shattered  ruins,  memorials  of  the 
vain  and  powerless  ambition  of  the  builders. 
How  strange  then,  that  a  structiu-e,  incom- 
parably more  tender  and  delicate,  should  be 
preserved  to  old  age  and  hoary  hairs  !  That 
the  bodily  machine,  which  is  so  exquisite  in  its 
frame,  so  complicated  in  its  parts,  and  per- 
forms so  many  thousands*  of  motions  every 
moment,  should  continue  unimpaired,  yet 
act  without  intermission,  so  many  days  and 
weeks,  and  months  and  years  !  How 
strange  aU  this ;  yet,  because  common,  how 
seldom  does  it  excite  our  praise,  or  so 
much  as  engage  our  notice  ! 

Asp.  Your  remarks  are  as  just,  as  the 
neglect  of  them  is  customary Unaccount- 
able supineness  !  Though  "  God  doth  great 
things,"  worthy  of  all  observation,  "  yea, 
and  wonders  without  number,"  we  ya«ii 
with  indolence,  instead  of  being  animated 
with  devotion,  or  transported  with  delight. 
"  Lo  !  he  goeth  before  us,"  in  evident  ma- 
nifestations of  \visdom  and  power,  yet  we 
see  him  not ;  "  he  passeth  on  also,"  and  scat- 
ters unnumbered  blessings  from  his  provi- 
dential hand,  "  but  we  perceive  him  not." 
(Jobix.  10,  11.) 

*  Thousands— Not  to  mention  the  spontaneous,  if 
we  consider  only  the  mechanical  motions,  which  are 
continually  performed  in  the  animal  system ;  the  di- 
gestive action  of  the  stomach— the  vermicular  agita- 
tion of  the  bowels— the  progress  of  the  chyle  through 
the  lacteal  vessels — the  many,  many  operations  of  the 
secreting  gland&— the  compression  of  the  lungs,  and 
all  their  little  cellular  lodgments  by  every  act  of  res- 
piration :  above  all,  that  grand  impetus,  the  systole 
of  the  heart,  which,  by  every  constriction,  darts  the 
crimson  current  through  an  innumerable  multitude 
of  arteries:  and  drives,  at  the  same  instant  of  time, 
the  refluent  blood  through  an  innumerable  multitude 
of  corresponding  veins.  Such  a  view  will  oblige  us  to 
acknowledge  that  Theron's  accoimt  is  far  from  being 
extravagant,  that  it  rather  diminishes  than  exagger- 
ates the  real  fact. 


DIALOGUE  V. 


193 


This,  though  greatly  culpable,  is  to  be 
reckoned  among  the  smallest  instances  of 
our  ungratefiJ  insensibility-  Are  we  not 
inattentive  even  to  the  \\ork  of  redemp- 
tion ?  That  work,  which  according  to  the 
emphatical  declaration  of  scrii)tuic,  "  ex- 
ceeds in  glory,"  (2  Cor.  iii.  9,)  is  by  far  the 
greatest,  the  most  marvellous  of  all  sub- 
lunary, perhaps  of  all  divine  transactions. 
Are  we  not  shamefully  unaffected,  even 
with  the  appeai'ance  of  God  in  human  tlesh  ? 
Though  the  King  of  kings  vouchsafes  to 
exchange  his  tlirone  for  the  humiliation  of 
a  servant,  and  the  death  of  a  malefactor ; 
though  he  is  pleased  by  the  imputation  of 
his  active  as  well  as  passive  obedience,  to 
become  "  the  Lord  our  righteousness  ;" 
yet 

Ther.  You  are  taking  an  effectual  way, 
Aspasio,  to  rouse  me  from  my  reverie,  and 
make  me  indeed  like  the  snarling  philoso- 
pher. "  Imputed  righteousness  is  a  scheme 
grossly  frivolous  and  absurd,  utterly  insuffi- 
cient to  answer  the  end  proposed ;  and, 
one  would  think,  could  never  be  depended 
on,  where  there  is  the  least  degree  of  under- 
standing, and  capacity  for  reasoning."" 

Asp.  Who  is  warm  now,  Theron?  May 
I  not  remind  my  friend,  that  the  resentful 
is  no  more  fitted  to  work  conviction  than 
the  rapturous  ?  Perhaps  you  have  not  duly 
considered  this  subject,  nor  seen  it  in  the 
proper  point  of  view.  I  have  sometimes 
beheld  a  ship  of  war  several  leagues  off  at 
sea.  It  seemed  to  be  a  dim  cloudy  some- 
thing, hovering  on  the  skirts  of  the  horizon, 
contemptibly  mean,  and  not  worthy  of  a 
moment's  regard.  But,  as  the  floating  cit- 
adel approached,  the  masts  arose  ;  the  sails 
swelled  out  ;  its  stately  form  and  curious 
proportions  struck  the  sight.  It  was  no 
longer  a  shapeless  mass,  or  a  blot  in  the 
prospect,  but  the  master-piece  of  human 
contrivance,  and  the  noblest  spectacle  in 
the  world  of  art.  The  eye  is  never  weary 
of  viewing  its  structure,  nor  the  mind  in 
contemplating  its  uses. 

Who  knows,  Theron,  but  this  sacred 
scheme  likewise,  which  you  now  look  upon 
as  a  confused  heap  of  errors,  may  very 
much  improve  when  more  closely  examined; 
may  at  length  appear  a  wise  and  benign 
plan,  admirably  fitted  to  the  condition  of 
our  fallen  nature,  and  perfectly  worthy  of 
all  acceptation. 

Then.    I    know  not  what    may  happen, 


»  The  reader  will  probably  be  disgusted  at  this 
heat  of  temper,  this  as|ierity  of  diction,  and  both  so 
abruptly  iiitroduied.  I  have  no  apology  to  make  for 
my  Theron.  The  readier  has  reason  to  be  disgusted, 
has  reason  to  be  chagrined.  Only  let  me  desire  him 
tt)  remember  that  this  is  the  very  spirit,  nay,  these 
are  the  very  words  of  a  celebrated  opposer  of  our 
doctrine:  not  added  when  he  has  fully  proved  the 
absurdity  of  the  scheme,  but  assumed  even  upon  the 
t!Ulalu^e  to  hi:i  discourse. 


Aspasio  ;  but  there  seems  to  be  very  little 
probability  of  such  a  change.  For,  though 
my  last  opposition  was  a  mock-fight,  in  my 
present  objections  I  am  vei-y  sincere,  and  to 
this  doctrine  I  am  a  determined  enemy. 
The  notion  of  a  substituted  and  vicarious 
righteousness,  is  absurd  even  to  common 
sense,  and  to  the  most  natural  and  easy  re- 
flections of  men. 

Asj).  It  may  not,  my  dear  friend,  agree 
with  our  natural  a])])reheiisions,  nor  fall  iii 
with  the  method  which  we  might  have  de- 
nsed  for  the  salvation  of  mankind.  Btit 
this  is  the  voice  of  scripture,  and  a  maxim 
never  to  be  forgotten  :  "  God's  thoughts  are 
not  as  our  thoughts,  nor  his  ways  as  our 
ways,"(Isa.  Iv.  8.)  "His  righteousness 
is  like  the  strong  mountains,  and  his  judg- 
ments are  like  the  great  deep,"  (Psal.  xxxvi. 
6.)  the  former  immoveable,  the  latter  un- 
searchable. ' 

Thtr.  The  mention  of  mountains  put  me 
in  mind  of  what  I  was  reading  yesterday  ; 
the  keen  irony  with  which  Abimelech's 
jjrincipal  officer  chastised  the  blustering 
Gaal :  "  Thou  seest  the  shadow  of  the 
mountains,  as  if  they  were  men,"  ( Judg.  ix. 
36.)  He,  it  is  sarcastically  intimated,  was 
afraid,  and  my  Aspasio  seems  to  be  fond, 
of  shadows. 

Asp.  Happy  for  your  Aspasio,  that  irony 
is  no  argum?nt.  If  a  jury  was  impannell-ed 
to  try  me  and  my  doctrine,  I  shoidd  cer- 
tainly except  against  irony.  Generally 
speaking,  he  is  neither  a  good  man,  nor  a 
true  ;  and,  if  I  remember  right,  you  your- 
self consented  to  set  him  aside  in  this  de- 
bate. I  shall  therefore  adapt  my  reply  ra- 
ther to  what  is  solid  than  what  is  smart. 
"  This  notion,"  you  say,  "  is  absiu'd  even 
to  common  sense."  A  saying,  on  which 
I  must  beg  leave  to  put  a  query.  It  was, 
I  own,  absolutely  beyond  the  power  of  com- 
mon sense,  unassisted  by  divine  revela- 
tion, to  discover  this  truth.  I  will  grant, 
farther,  that  this  blessing  infinitely  tran- 
scends whatever  common  sense  has  observed 
in  all  her  converse  with  finite  things.  But 
if  I  have  any  the  least  acquaintance  with 
common  sense,  I  am  very  sure  she  will  not, 
she  cannot  pronounce  it  an  absiurdity.  To 
this  judge  I  refer  the  cause. 

And  to  open  the  cause  a  little,  let  me 
just  observe  that  God  imputed  our  sins  to 
his  Son.  How  else  could  the  immaculate 
Jesus  be  pimished  as  the  most  inexcusable 
transgressor?  "  Awake,  O  sword,  against 
the  man  that  is  my  Fellow,  saith  the  Lord 
of  Hosts,"  (Zech.  xiii.  7.)  Is  not  this  the 
voice  of  a  judge,  proncnmcing  the  sentence, 
and  authorizing  the  execution  ?  Or  rather, 
docs  it  not  describe  the  action  of  justice, 
turning  the  sword  from  us,  and  sheathing 
it  in  Christ?  AVho,  if  he  was  our  substi- 
stute,  with  regard  to  penal  suffering,  \\  hy. 
o 


Wi 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


inay  lie  not  stand  in  the  same  relation  with 
regaiil  to  justifying  obedience?  There  is 
the  same  reason  for  the  one  as  for  the  other, 
every  argument,  in  favour  of  the  former, 
is  equally  conclusive  in  behalf  of  the  latter. 
Ther.  I  very  freely  grant,  that  Christ 
Jesus  was  punished  in  our  stead  ;  that  his 
death  is  the  expiation  of  our  sin,  and  the 
cause  of  our  security  from  penal  suffering. 
But  this — 

Asp.  Will  undeniably  prove,  that  sin  was 
imputed  to  him  ;  otherwise  he  could  not 
truly  suffer  in  our  stead,  nor  be  justly 
punished  at  all.  "  And  imputation  is  as  rea- 
sonable and  justifiable  in  one  case  as  in  the 
other,  for  they  both  stand  upon  one  and  the 
same  foot ;  and,  for  that  reason,  he  who 
throws  down  one,  throws  down  both."  I 
should  not  have  interrupted  my  Theron,  only 
to  introduce  this  answer  from  an  eminent 
divine,  who  adds  what  should  be  very  seri- 
ously considered  :  "  And  therefore,  who- 
ever rejects  the  doctrine  of  the  imputation 
of  our  Savioiu-'s  righteousness  to  man,  does, 
by  so  doing,  reject  the  ijnjmtation  of  man's 
sin  to  our  Saviour,  and  all  the  consequences 
of  it.  Or,  in  other  words,  he  who  rejects 
the  doctrine  of  the  imputation,  does,  by  so 
doing,  reject  the  doctrine  of  the  expiation 
likewise."* 

T7ier.  I  know  nothing  of  this  divine ; 
and,  eminent  as  he  is,  can  hardly  take  his 
ipse  dixit  for  a  decision. 

Asp.  I  was  in  hopes  you  would  pay  the 
greater  regard  to  his  opinion,  because  he 
is  not  in  the  number  of  the  whimsical  fana- 
tics. 

Give  me  leave  to  observe  farther,  that  the 
imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness  bears  an 
evident  analogy  to  another  great  truth  of 
Christianity.  We  did  not  personally  com- 
mit Adam's  sin,  yet  are  we  chargeable 
with  guilt,  and  liable  to  condemnation,  on 
that — 

Tlier.  How !  we  chargeable  with  guilt 
and  liable  to  condemnation  on  account  of 
Adam's  tiansgression  !  This  position  I 
must  deny,  I  had  almost  said,  I  must  ab- 
hor. None  other  could,  in  the  eye  of  jus- 
tice and  equity,  be  blamable  for  any  of- 
fence of  om-  tirst  parents,  but  they  only. 

Asp.  So  says  Theron  ;  but  what  says  St. 
Paul  ?  This  may  be  the  voice  of  natural 
reason,  but  what  is  the  language  of  divine 
revektion  ?  "  In  whom,"  that  is,  in  Adam, 
"all  have  sinned." 

Ther.  The  woi-ds,  if  I  remember  right, 
are,  "  For  that  all  have  sinned." 

Asp.  In  the  margin,  they  are  translated  as 
I  have  repeated  them»     For  this  interpre- 


tation I  might  contend,  as  not  in  the  lease 
incompatible  with  the  original  phrase,*  and 
as  the  most  precisely  suitable  to  the  sacred 
argument.  But  I  wate  this  advantage. 
Let  the  words  nm  into  your  mould,  and  the 
translation  take  your  form.  They  are 
equally  decisive  of  the  point  in  debate. 
They  assign  the  reason  why  death  came 
upon  all  men,  infants  themselves  not  ex- 
cepted :  "  For  that."  or  inasmuch  as,  "  all 
have  sinned."  How  ?  not  in  their  own: 
person  ;  this  was  utterly  impossible.  But 
in  that  first  grand  transgression  of  their  fe- 
deral head,  which,  as  it  could  not  be  ac- 
tually committed  by  them,  must,  according 
to  the  tenor  of  the  apostle's  arguing,  be  im- 
puted to  them. 

Titer.  Pray,  what  do  you  mean  by  that 
stiff,  and  to  me  unintelligible  phrase,  fe- 
deral head  ? 

Asp.  1  mean  what  Milton  celebrate*, 
when  he  represents  the  Almighty  Father 
thus  addi'essing  his  eternal  Son : 


»  Staynoeupon  "  Salvation  by  Jesus  Christ  alone." 
Vol.  i.  p.  .04.  Where  the  reader  may  find  several 
weighty  considerations,  clearly  proposed,  and  strongly 
urged,  for  the  explanation  and  establishment  of  this 
capital  doctrine. 


"  Be  thou  in  Adam's  room 

The  head  of  all  mankind,  though  Adam's  son. 
As  in  him  perish  all  men,  so  in  thee, 
As  from  a  second  root,  shall  be  restored 
As  many  as  ate  restored ;  without  thee  none." 
Book  3. 1.  285. 

I  mean  what  the  apostle  teaches,  when 
he  calls  Christ  "  the  second  man,"  (1  Cor. 
XV.  47.)  and  "the  last  Adam,"  (1  Cor.  xv. 
43. )  The  second  !  the  last !  How  ?  Not 
in  a  nnmerical  sense,  not  in  order  of  time, 
but  in  this  respect :  That  as  Adam  was  a 
public  person,  and  acted  in  the  stead  of  all 
mankind,  so  Christ  was  a  public  person, 
and  acted  in  behalf  of  all  his  people.  That,' 
as  Adam  was  the  first  general  representa- 
tive of  this  kind,  Christ  was  the  second  and'. 
the  last ;  there  never  was,  and  there  never 
will  be  any  other.  That  what  they  seve- 
rally did,  in  this  capacity,  was  not  intended 
to  terminate  in  themselves,  but  to  affect  as 
many  as  they  respectively  represented. 
This  is  St.  Paulas  meaning,  and  this  is  the 
foundation  of  the  doctrine  of  imputation. 

Ther.  If  you  build  it  on  no  other  founda- 
tion than  yoiu"  own  parti ridar  sense  of  the 
apostle's  words,  perhaps  your  ground  may 
prove  sandy,  and  treacherous  to  its  trust. 

Asp.  I  build  it  upen  mine,  and  I  deduce 
it  from  yours,  Theron.  Bat  I  am  far  from 
resting  the  whole  weight  of  the  cause  upon 
a  single  text.  It  is  established,  again  and 
again,  in  this  same  chapter.  Neither  do  I 
wonder  at  the  prejudices  which  you  and 
others  may  entertain  against  the  doctrine. 
It  lies  quite  out  of  the  road  of  reason's  re- 
searches ;  it  is  among  the  wonderful  things, 
of  God's  law.  This  the  inspired  penmait 
foresaw,  and  modelled  his  discourse  ac- 
cordingly. Like  some  skilful  engineer,  who^ 


E^'  u  iranTSs  Tifta^rc*.      Rom.  v.  12. 


DIALOCiUE  V 


195 


though  he  makes  the  whole  compass  of  his 
fortitication  strong,  yet  bestows  peculiar  and 
additional  strength  on  those  parts  wliich  he 
apprehends  will  be  exposed  to  the  fiercest 
attack  ;  so  the  wise,  the  divinely  wise  apos- 
tle, has  inculcated,  and  re-inculcated  this 
momentous  point,  has  enforced  it  with  all 
the  assiduity  of  ze;d,  and  confii'med  it  by 
all  the  energy  of  expression.  "  If,  through 
the  oflence  of  one,  many  be  dead — The 
judgment  was  by  one  to  condemnation  — 
By  one  man's  offence,  death  reigned  by 
one — By  the  offence  of  one,  judgment  came 
upon  all  men  to  condemnation,"  (Rom.  v. 
15,  16,  17,  18.)  That  there  may  remain 
no  possibility  of  mistaking  his  meaning,  or 
of  eluding  his  argument,  he  adds,  "  By  one 
man's  disobedience,  many  were  made  sin- 
ners," (Rom.  V.  19.) 

Ther.  Sin,  I  am  told  by  a  celebrated  ex- 
positor, sometimes  signilies  punishment. 
He  farther  informs  me,  that  we  may  be 
said  to  sin  in  Adam,  not  by  the  imputation 
of  his  disobedience  to  us,  but  by  becoming 
obnoxious  to  those  sufferings  which  were 
due  to  liis  sin. 

Asp.  Then  the  apostle's  reasoning  will 
stand  in  this  form  ;  "  death  came  upon  all 
men,  for  that  ail  have  sinned ;"  that  is, 
"  deatl)  came  upon  all  men,  because  all  have 
been  punished,  or,  an  obno.xiousness  to  pun- 
ishment came  ujjon  men,  because  all  are 
become  obnoxious  to  punishment."  A 
goodly  strain  of  argumentation  for  an  unerr- 
ing writer  to  use  !  But  surely  Gamaliel's 
pupil  would  disclaim,  much  more  would 
Christ's  ambassador  scorn,  sucli  weak  and 
unmeiuiing  chicanery.  He  mentions  sin 
and  its  punishment ;  but  never  hints,  that 
they  are  intended  to  signify  one  and  the 
same  thing.  He  all  along  maintains  a  dis- 
tinction between  them  ;  represents  the  for- 
mer as  the  cause  of  the  latter.  Judgment, 
condemnation,  death,  are  owing  to  sin,  of- 
fence, disobedience.  It  is  by  the  im])uta- 
tion  of  these  that  we  become  obnoxious  to 
those. 

This  accoimt  is  clear,  is  natural,  and 
wants  no  strained  criticisms  -to  support  it. 
This  account  demonstrates  the  equity  of 
that  providential  government,  which  exe 
elites  the  sentence  of  death  even  on  those 
descendants  of  Adam  who  have  not  sinned 
in  their  own  persons.  It  also  illusliates 
tlie  procedure  of  that  sovereign  grace,  which 
treats  as  righteous,  and  entitles  to  life,  even 
those  believers  in  Jesus,  who  have  not 
obeyed  in  their  own  persons. — What  says 
our  church  ?  You  have  a  great  \'eneration 
for  the  church  of  England,  Theron. 

TTier.  I  have.  But,  I  fear,  my  Aspasio 
has  neither  so  honourable  an  opinion  of  her 
worship,  nor  so  steady  an  adherence  to  her 
Constitution  ;  otherwise  he  would  not  so 
highly   extol   those  ambitious   and   canting 


h}'])ocrites  the  Puritans  ;  who  were  the 
most  inveterate  enemies  of  our  excellent 
establishment,  and  would  have  rejoiced  in 
its  utter  subversion. 

Asp.  As  to  the  Puritans,  j'ou  wall  do  me 
the  justice  to  acknowledge,  that  I  speak 
only  of  their  evangelical  tenets,  abstracted 
from  all  political  princijjles.  As  to  myself, 
your  fears  are  friendly,  but  I  trust  they  are 
groundless.  I  would  only  ask,  who  are  to 
be  deemed  the  most  affectionate  and  faith- 
ful sons  of  their  sacred  mother  ?  Those,  I 
presume,  who  most  cordially  embrace  her 
doctrines,  and  most  dutifully  submit  to  her 
precepts.  By  this  touchstone  let  my  fide- 
lity be  tried  ;  and,  for  an  immediate  trial, 
be  pleased  to  repeat  her  ninth  article. 

T/irr.  I  cannot  say,  that  I  remember  the 
particular  words  of  any,  though  I  have  often 
read,  and  very  much  approve  them  all. 

Asp.  I  wish  you  would  commit  to  your 
memory  four  or  five  of  the  most  distin- 
guished.* They  iixe  a  valuable  treasm-e, 
and  contain  the  quintessence  of  the  gospel. 

These  are  the  words  of  the  ninth  article. 
"  Original  sin  is  the  faidt  and  corruption  of 
every  man,  that  naturally  is  engendered  of 
the  offspring  of  Adam."  It  is  ihe  fault, 
says  the  pious  Bishop  Bevcridge,  and  there- 
fore we  are  guilty  of  it ;  it  is  the  corruption 
also,  and  therefore  we  are  defiled  with  it. 
Our  homilies  have  recourse  to  no  such  pal- 
liatives, and  qualifying  interpretations,  as 
my  Theron's  expositor  uses.  One  of  them 
affirms  point  blank,  that  "in  Adam  all  men 
sinned  universally."  This  seems  to  be  a 
para])hrase  on  the  text,  whose  translation 
you  lately  controverted.  In  what  sense 
our  great  poetical  divine  understood  the  sa- 
cred writer  is  apparent  from  the  following 
woids,  \vhich  are  supposed  to  have  been 
spoken  by  Jehovah  himself: 

"  Adam's  crime 

JIakes  guilty  all  his  sons." 

Milton,  book  iii.  1.  290. 

And  from  another  passage,  where  our  re^ 
bellious  progenitor,  bewailing  his  aggravated 
misery,  and  the  extensive  malignity  of  his 
sin,  declares, 

"  In  me  all 

I'osterity  stands  cursed." — Book  .\.  1.  817. 

For  my  own  part,  I  nuist  confess,  that 
if  the  transmission  of  original  depravity  be 
granted,  1  know  not  how  the  imputation  of 
Adam's  destructive  apostacy  can  be  denied. 

If  ^\•e  had  no  concern  in  the  one,  how 
could  we  be  justly  punished  with  the  other? 
I  say  i)unislied.  h'or  to  lose  the  jjrimitivc 
integrity  of  our  nature,  and  inherit  a  de- 
praved disj)osition,  is  at  once  a  most  deplor- 
able calamity,  and  a  most  terrible  punish- 
ment. Corru])tion  transmitted,  and  guilt 
imputed,  seem  to  be  doctrines  indissolubly 

*  Especially  ArticleiO,  10,  11,  12,  13. 


fM 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


connected.  To  allow  the  former,  and  re- 
ject the  latter,  is  in  my  apprehension  to 
iicknowledge  the  effect  \vithout  admitting 
the  cause. 

Ther.  To  make  us  parties  in  a  covenant, 
which  we  did  not  agree  to,  can  this  be 
equitable  ?  To  ruin  us  for  a  crime  which 
we  never  committed,  can  this  be  merciful  ? 
Surely  this  is  a  flagrant  injustice,  never  to 
be  ascribed  to  the  all-gracious  God  ;  a  dia- 
bolical barbai-ity,  add  some,  never  to  be 
mentioned  without  the  utmost  detestation. 

Asp.  I  see  no  cause  for  such  a  tragical 
outcry  of  barbarity,  nor  indeed  for  any 
complaint  of  injustice.  Not  to  insist  upon 
the  sovereignty  of  an  all-creating  God,  and 
his  unquestionable  right,  to  "  do  what  he 
will  with  his  own,"  (Matt.  xx.  13.)  1 
would  only  ask,  did  he  not  condescend  to 
transact  with  man,  not  on  the  foot  of  abso- 
lute uncontrollable  authority,  but  in  the 
lionourable  and  delightfid  way  of  a  cove- 
nant ?  Were  not  the  terms  of  this  covenant 
}ierfectly  easy,  and  wonderfully  gracious  ? 
Wonderfully  gracious  ;  for  ihey  proposed  a 
state  of  inconceivable  and  everlasting  feli- 
city to  creatures  who  were_  entitled  to  no 
happiness;  (Luke  x.  28.)  had  not  the 
least  claim  to  any  good  ;  no,  not  so  much 
as  to  the  privilege  of  existence.  Perfectly 
easy  ;  for  what  was  the  condition  on  man's 
part  ?  Not  any  rigorous  act  of  duty,  nor  se- 
vere course  of  self-denial,  but  the  free  en- 
joyment of  millions  of  blessings  and  plea- 
sures, with  only  the  prohibition  of  one  j>er- 
nicious  indulgence.  Here,  then,  is  made 
on  one  hand,  a  promise  of  the  most  glorious 
reward  that  God  himself  could  give  ;  and 
nothing  required  on  the  other,  but  the 
smallest  expression  of  allegiance  that  man 
liimself  could  wish.  And  is  this  injustice  ? 
is  this  barbarity  ? 

Ther.  All  this  was  equitable  enough 
with  regard  to  Adam  ;  but  why  should  we 
be  condemned  for  his  violation  of  the  cove- 
nant ?  Or  how  was  such  a  constitution  of 
things  gracious  with  respect  to  us? 

Asp.  "  AVhy  condemned  ?"  Because  we 
should  have  been  partakers  of  the  benefit 
and  the  glory,  if  he  had  persevered  in  his 
duty.  To  this,  I  presume,  none  would  ob- 
ject. And  if  they  would  not  to  the  one, 
they  ought  not  to  the  other. 

You  ask  farther,  "  How  was  such  a  con- 
stitution of  things  gracious  with  respect  to 
us  ?"  I  an.swer,  because  it  was  the  most 
likely  means  to  seciu-e  the  hapj)iness  of  us 
and  all  mankind.  Was  not  Adam,  of  all 
persons,  by  far  the  best  quaUfied  to  act  as 
a  general  head?  He  had  a  perfection  of 
knowledge,  to  discern  his  tnie  interest ;  a 
perfection  of  holiness,  to  capacitate  him 
for  obedience  ;  and  a  perfection  of  happi- 
ness, disposing  him  to  perseverance.  As 
none    could   have  more  eminent   qualifica- 


tions, none  could  have  so  many  obligations. 
His  own  welfare,  both  bodily  and  spiritual, 
was  at  stake ;  the  eternal  interests  of  his 
rising  family,  and  of  his  remotest  posterity, 
were  depending ;  the  lives,  the  souls,  the  ever- 
lasting all  of  the  whole  human  race,  were  em- 
barked on  the  single  bottom  of  his  fidelity. 
Therefore  the  felicity  of  every  indinduaf 
that  should  spring  from  his  loins,  was  a 
fresh  motive  to  vigilance,  an  additional  en- 
gagement to  duty.*  As  his  love  to  his- 
offspring  was  more  refined,  more  exalted, 
more  god-like  than  ours,  all  these  consider- 
ations, and  inducements  must  operate  upon 
him  in  their  fullest  scope,  and  A^ith  the 
strongest  energy.  AVhat  an  intrcnchment 
was  here  to  keep  out  disobedience,  and 
ward  off  ruin  !  An  intrcnchment  deep  as 
hell,  high  as  heaven,  wide  as  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  the  human  species. — Here  then  I 
may  venture  to  throw  the  gauntlet,  and 
challenge  the  whole  woiid.  Let  the  most 
penetrating  mind  devise  a  scheme,  so  wisely 
and  graciously  calculated  to  ascertain  the 
success  of  a  probationary  state.  If  this  be 
impracticable,  then  must  every  mouth  be 
stopped ;  no  tongue  ean  have  the  least 
reason  to  complain  :  I,  for  my  part,  shalf 
think  myself  obliged  to  admire  the  benignity 
of  my  Creator's  conduct ;  and  God  may 
justly  demand  of  all  intelligent  creatm'es, 
"  What  could  have  been  done  more"  for  the 
preservation  and  felicity  of  mankind,  "  that 
I  have  not  done  ?"  ( Isaiah  v.  4. ) 

Especially,  when  to  all  this  we  add,  that 
the  same  Almighty  Being,  who  appointed 
Adam  to  be-  our  representative  in  the  first 
covenant,  without  asking  our  actual  con- 
sent, appointed  also  Christ  to  be  our  repre- 
sentative in  the  second  covenant,  without 
staying  for  our  actual  solicitation.  Whew 
we  take  this  into  the  account,  there  remains 
not  the  least  shadow  of  injustice ;  but  good- 
ness, transcendent  goodness,  shines  forth- 
with the  brightest  lustre. 

Ther.  Goodness,  Aspasio  !  This  is  sur- 
prising indeed  !  Why,  if  Adam's  transgres- 
sion be  laid  to  our  charge,  we  are  damnable 
creatm'es  the  very  moment  we  exist ;  and' 
are  liable  to  the  torments  of  heU,  even  on 
account  of  his  disobedience.  To  term  this 
goodness,  is  the  greatest  of  paradoxes !  to 
affirm  it  of  the  Deity,  is  little  less  tlfan  blas- 
phemy ! 

Asp.  Let  us  be  calm,  my  dear  friend,  and 


*  Should  any  person  imagine  himself  more  capable 
of  standing  than  Adam,  -who  was  endowed  witn  all" 
the  perfections  of  an  innocent,  holy,  god-like  nature ; 
I  think,  by  this  very  imagination  he  begins  to  fall ; 
fall  into  pride.  Should  any  person  suppose,  that,  from 
a  view  to  his  own  partictriar  salvation,  he  would  con- 
tinue faithful ;  v.'hen  Adam  was  not  engaged  to  fide- 
lity, from  a  regard  to  his  own  and  the  final  happiness 
of  all  his  posterity  ;  he  seems  to  be  just  as  wise  as  the 
mariner,  who  persuades  himself,  that  though  a  thou- 
sand anchors  could  not  secure  the  ship  in  a  storm, 
yet  one  might  have  done  it  effectually.. 


DIALOGUE   V. 


197 


consider  the  case  iinpaitially.  It'  it  is  not 
a  real  truth,  I  shall  be  iis  willing  to  relin- 
i^uish  it  as  yourself. 

Is  not  death,  eternal  death,  the  wages 
of  every  sin?  And  if  of  every  sin,  then 
doubtless  of  original,  whicli  is  the  fountain 
from  whence  all  the  streams  of  actual  ini- 
quity How  ;  or  rather  the  abyss  from  whence 
all  tiie  toiTcnts  pour.  That  which  could 
not  be  pardoned,  but  by  the  humiliation  and 
agonies  of  God's  adorable  Son,  may  reason- 
ably be  supposed  to  deserve  the  most  dread - 
fid  vengeance.  And  it  is  affirmed,  by  an 
authority  which  you  will  not  dispute,  that, 
*'  for  original  as  well  as  actual  sin,  the  of- 
fering of  Christ  is  a  propitiation  and  satis- 
faction."* 

Docs  not  St.  Paid  deliver  it  as  a  maxim 
in  diviiuty.  That,  "  by  the  offence  of  one," 
Adam  he  undoubtedly  means,  "judgment 
came  upon  all  men  to  condemnation  ?" 
(Rom.  V.  18.)  The  import  of  the  words, 
together  with  the  connexion  of  the  passage, 
lead  us  to  understand  this  of  a  condem- 
nation to  eternal  misery.  The  import  of 
the  words  ;  for  they  are  doubled, f  to  make 
them  peculiaiy  strong  in  their  signification ; 
and  each  word,  within  the  compass  of  this 
very  epistle,  is  used  in  that  awful  latitude 
of  meaning,  (  Rom.  ii.  3 ;  iii.  8  ;  viii.  1 . )  The 
connexion  of  the  passage  ;  because  it  stands 
opposed  to  that  justification  which  is  iiuto 
life.  This,  we  are  sure,  includes  the  idea 
of  an  everlasting  duration.  And  why  should 
its  tremendous  counterpart  be  less  exten- 
sive ? 

This  sense  is  evidently  patronized,  and 
tills  doctrme  most  peremptorily  asserted  by 
our  established  church.  What  says  the 
book  of  Homilies,  when  treating  of  the 
miseries  consequent  upon  the  fall  ?  "  This 
«o  great  and  miserable  a  plague,  if  it  had 
only  rested  on  Adam,  who  first  offended,  it 
had  been  much  easier,  and  might  the  better 
liave  been  borne.  But  it  fell  not  only  on 
him,  but  also  on  his  posterity  and  children 
for  ever;  so  that  the  whole  brood  of 
Adam's  race  sliould  sustain  the  self-same 
fall  and  punishment,  M'hich  their  forefather 
by  his  offence  most  justly  had  deserved.  "| 
Lest  any  should  misapprehend  the  design 
of  our  reformers,  and  sti])pose  the  punish- 
ment to  consist  oidy  of  some  bodily  suffer- 
ing, or  the  loss  of  immortality,  it  is  added 
in  the  same  alarming  (hscourse,.  "  Neither 
Adam,  nor  any  of  his,  had  any  right  or  in- 
terest at  all  in  the  kingdom  ot  heaven  ;  but 
v/ere  become  plain  reprobates  and  castawa}'s, 
being  perpetually  damned  to  the  everlasting 
pains  of  hell." 

Lest  you  should  unagine  this  might  be 


*  Article  XXXI. 

if  llomilyon  thenativily  of  Christ 


written  under  a  sally  of  hasty  zeal,  or  that 
it  is  to  be  reckoned  among  the  doting  opi- 
nions of  a  credulous  antiquity,  let  nie  re- 
mind my  friend,  that  it  is  ingrafted  into  the 
Articles:  those  articles,  which  were  ap- 
proved by  the  archbisho]>s  and  bishops  of 
both  provinces,  were  ratified  by  the  general 
consent  of  the  clergy,  and  are  to  this  day 
the  natioiud  standard  of  our  belief.  The 
ninth  article,  beginning  with  a  description 
of  our  depraved  nature,  subjoins  an  account 
of  its  proper  desert :  "  In  every  person  bom 
into  the  world,  itdeserveth  God's  wrath  and 
damnation,"* 

Ther.    How  miserable  then  is  man  ! 

Asp.  In  himself  he  is  miserable  beyond 
expression.  But  a  conviction  of  this  misery 
is  the  beginning  of  all  happiness.  The  valley 
of  Achor  is  a  door  of  hope,  t 

Ther.  E.xplain  yourself,  Aspasio.  You 
seem  to  deal  very  much  in  the  incompre- 
hensible. 

Aap.  Such  a  conviction  would  demon- 
strate the  absolute  insufficiency  of  all  hu- 
man attainments,  and  all  human  endeavours 
to  i^rocure  life  and  salvation.  Tor  in  case 
we  coidd  perform  every  jot  and  tittle  of  the 
divine  law,  offend  in  no  instance,  fall  short 
in  no  degree,  persevere  to  the  very  end  ;  yet 
this  would  be  no  more  than  our  present 
bounden  duty.  Not  the  least  pittance  of 
merit  could  arise  from  all  this.  Much 
less  could  this  be  sufficient  to  expiate  ori- 
ginal guilt,  or  remove  the  di'eadful  entail  of 
the  primitive  all-destroying  sin. 

1  his,  therefore,  would  most  effectually 
preclude  every  false  confidence,  and  sweep 
away  at  one  stroke  "  every  refuge  of  lies," 
(Isa.  xxviii.  17.)  It  would  lay  us  under 
an  immediate,  indispensable,  and  happy  ne- 
cessity of  betaking  ourselves  to  Christ.  I 
say  happy  necessity;  because  then  we  should 
know  by  experience  what  each  part  of  our 
Lord's  aw'ful  yet  tender  declaration  mean- 
eth  ;  "  O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thy- 
self, but  in  me  is  thy  help,"  (llos.  xiii.  9.) 
We  should  then  find,  that  as  sin  and  misery 
hath  abounded  through  the  first  Adam, 
mercy  and  grace  have  much  more  abounded 
through  the  second.  For,  if  we  were  ruin- 
ed by  a  crime  which  we  committed  not,  we 
are  recovered  by  a  righteousness  which  we 
jierformed    not ;   a   righteousness   infinitely 


*  I  am  surprised  to  see  a  learned  author  attempting 
to  sheath  the  sting  of  this  awful  deiuinciation;  at- 
tempting to  prove  that  the  words  "do  not  signify 
God's  eternal  wrath,  and  the  damnation  of  liell."  I 
shall  take  no  pains  to  confute  what  he  is  pleased  to 
advance.  I  leave  tlie  question  in  the  reader's  own 
breast.  Let  him  discover,  if  he  can,  a  difierent 
meaning  in  the  sentence.  Unless  he  has  a  pretty 
shrewd  nack  at  sopliistry,  I  am  persuaded  he  will  find 
it  a  difficult  matter  to  give  any  other  tolerable  turn 
to  the  passage.  Surely  it  must  be  a  reproach  to  our 
venerable  mother,  if  she  delivers  her  doctrine  in  lan- 
guage so  fallacious,  as  must  necessarily  mislead  the 
generality  of  her  sons;  or  in  terms  so  abstruse,  as 
evena  good  undertanding  cannot  develope,  without 
some  proficiency  in  critical  legerdemain. 

t  Hes.  ii.  15.    Achor  si^ifies  trouble. 


198 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


surpassing  VA'liatevcr  we  cotild  have  acquired, 
even  though  oiu-  nature  had  been  transmitted 
to  us  free  from  any  depravity,  and  exempt 
from  all  guilt. 

Titer.  In  your  opinion,  then,  and  accor- 
ding to  your  scheme,  salve  and  regimen  are 
better  than  a  sound  constitution. 

Asp.  No,  Theron.  My  opinion  is,  that 
none  can  think  himself  aggrieved,  or  have 
any  reasoTi  to  complain,  at  that  gi-and  and 
beneficent  regulation,  which  suifers  the 
glimmering  taper  to  he  obscured  or  ex- 
tinguished, but  sheds  abroad  the  boundless 
and  majestic  beams  of  day.  And  if  any 
comparison  be  made  between  the  most  per- 
fect human  obedience,  and  the  everlasting 
divine  righteousness  of  Christ,  it  should  be 
taken  from  the  glimmering  taper  and  the 
meridian  sun. 

Ther.  I  cannot  persuade  myself  to  ad- 
mire such  mysterious  and  unaccountable  no- 
tions. They  must  puzzle  some,  will  of- 
fend others,  but  cannot  edify  any. 

Asp.  This  point,  that  "  we  all  died  in 
Adam,"  were  undone  by  his  apostacy,  can- 
not puzzle  the  simplest,  if  unprejudiced, 
mind.  Nor  will  it  offend  any  but  the 
proud  philosopher,  or  the  self-righteous 
moralist.  And  I  assure  you  I  should  not 
mention  it,  much  less  insist  upon  it,  did 
it  not  subserve,  and  in  a  very  singular 
manner,  the  purposes  of  edification.  The 
doctrine  of  a  Redeemer  obeying  and  dying 
m  our  stead,  is  the  very  hinge  and  cen- 
tre  of  all  evangelical  revelations — is  the 
very  life  and  soul  of  all  evangelical  bless- 
ings. This  doctrine  is  not  a  little  illus- 
trated, and  comes  greatly  recommended,  by 
the  imputation  of  Adam's  sin. 

Contraries,  you  know,  cast  light  upon  and 
set  off  each  other.  Winter  and  its  severe 
cold  malte  spring  and  its  cheering  warmth 
more  sensibly  perceived,  and  more  highly 
pleasing.  Such  an  influence  has  the  pre- 
sent subject  with  respect  to  the  vicarious 
obedience  of  our  Mediator.  The  more 
clearly  we  see  the  reality  of  the  first,  the 
more  thoroughly  we  shall  discern  the  ex- 
pediency, the  excellency,  the  glory  of  the 
last.  The  more  we  are  humbled  under  a 
conviction  of  the  former,  the  more  we  shall 
covet,  or  the  more  we  shall  trimnph  in,  the 
enjoyment  of  the  latter.  The  apostle  draws 
a  long  parallel,  or  rather  forms  a  strong  con- 
trast between  them,  in  the  fifth  chapter  to 
theRomans.  He  speaks  copiously  of  Adam's 
guilt,  imputed  to  all  mankind  for  condem- 
nation and  death  ;  that  he  may  speak  the  more 
acceptably,  the  more  charmingly  of  Christ's 
righteousness,  imputed  to  all  believers  for 
justification  and  life.  In  that  dark  ground, 
he  well  knew,  this  fairest,  loveliest  flower  of 
Christianity  appears  with  peculiar  beauty ; 
iiideed  with  all  the  beauty  of  consummate 
wisdom,  and  adorable  benignity. 


Tlicr.  It  really  seems  to  me  a  thing  imi- 
possible,  that  one  man's  righteousness  should 
be  made  another's.  Can  one  man  live  by 
the  sold  of  another  ?  or  be  learned  by  the 
learning  of  another? — Good  Aspasio,  never 
attempt  to  maintain  such  palpable  absurdi- 
ties. They  will  expose  Christianity  to  the 
scorn  of  infidels. 

Asp.  If  infidels  scoff  at  this  comfortable 
truth,  their  scoffing  will  be,  like  all  their 
other  cavils,  not  the  voice  of  reason,  but  the 
clamour  of  prejudice. 

My  friend's  objection  insinuates,  what  we 
never  assert,  that  the  essence  of  this  right- 
eousness is  transfused  into  believers  ;  which 
would  doubtless  be  in  fact  impossible,  as  it 
is  in  theory  absurd.  But  this  we  disavow 
as  strenuously  as  you  can  oppose.  The 
Redeemer's  righteousness  is  made  ours,  not 
by  infusion,  but  by  imputation.  The  very 
terms  we  use  may  acquit  us  from  such  a  ri- 
diciUous  charge ;  as  imputation  signifies  a 
placing  to  the  account  of  one  what  is  done 
by  another.  Accordingly,  we  believe,  that 
the  essence  of  this  righteousness  abides  in 
Christ,  but  is  placed  to  our  account ;  that 
Christ,  and  Christ  alone,  actually  performed 
it ;  that  Christ,  and  Christ  alone,  personally 
possesses  it ;  but  that,  performing  it  in  our 
stead,  and  possessing  it  as  oiu-  covenant- 
head,  God  imputes  it  to  us,  God  accepts  us 
for  it,  accepts  us  as  much  as  if  we  had,  on 
our  own  behalf  and  in  our  own  persons, 
severally  fulfilled  it. 

Though  one  man  cannot  live,  be  actuat- 
ed with  a  principle  of  life,  by  the  soul  of 
another ;  yet  you  must  allow,  that  one 
man,  nay,  that  many  men  may  live,  be 
continued  in  the  possession  of  life,  for 
the  righteousness  of  another.  Or  else  you 
nuist  do,  what  I  am  sure  you  abhor,  you 
must  charge  with  absurdity  and  impossi- 
bility even  the  declaration  of  the  Deity  : 
"  If  I  find  in  Sodom  fifty  righteous  within 
the  city,  then  will  I  spare  all  the  place  for 
their  sakes."    (Gen.  xviii.  26.) 

Ther.  Not  all  your  refinements  can  re- 
concile me  to  this  uncouth  notion.  The 
practice  is  unexampled,  and  absolutely  in- 
consistent with  the  ndes  of  distributive  jus- 
tice. 

Asp.  Ah  !  my  Theron,  if  we  seek  an 
example  of  God's  unbounded  goodness 
amongst  the  puny  proceedings  of  men,  we 
shall  be  led  into  the  most  egregious  misap- 
prehensions. To  measure  one  of  the  sparks 
on  your  ring,  and  fancy  we  have  taken  the 
dimensions  of  the  Alps  or  the  Andes, 
would  be,  in  comparison  of  this  error,  a 
small  mistake  :  Since  between  a  brilliant 
speck,  and  a  range  of  mountains  there  is 
some  proportion,  but  between  human  bene- 
ficence, and  heavenly  bounty  there  cannot 
possibly  be  any.  However,  the  all-condes- 
cending Creator  has  been  pleased  so  to  dis- 


DIALOGUE   V. 


ItD 


pense  liis  infinitely  rich  grace,  that  we  may 
find,  though  nothing  parallel,  nothing  cor- 
'  respondent,  yet  some  faint  shadow  of  its 
manner  among  the  affairs  of  mankind ; 
something  that  may  perhaps  give  us  such 
an  idea  of  the  stupendous  subject,  as  a 
glow-worm  would  give  of  the  sun's  splend- 
our, in  case  a  person  had  never  belield  that 
magnificent  luminary.  This  remark  I  must 
entreat  you  to  recollect,  whenever  I  attempt 
to  elucidate  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel  by 
the  occurrences  of  common  life. 

Wlien  your  worthy  minister  was  disabled, 
by  a  rheumatic  disorder,  from  attending  on 
the  business  of  his  function,  several  of  the 
neighbouring  clergy  gave  him  their  assist- 
ance. Was  he  not,  by  this  vicarious  per- 
formance of  his  office,  entitled  to  all  the 
profits  of  his  living?  It  seems,  therefore, 
not  so  unexampled  a  thing  for  one  person 
to  act  in  another's  stead.  And  when  a 
sei-vice  is  thus  discharged  by  the  pro.xy,  the 
benefit  may,  according  to  the  received  max- 
ims of  mankind,  accrue  to  the  principal. 
Did  not  Jehu's  descendants,  even  to  the 
fourth  generation,  reap  the  advantage  of 
their  great-grandfather's  zeal  ?  (2  Kings 
X.  30.)  Does  not  the  Duke  of  ****  en- 
joy the  honours  and  rewards  won  by  the 
sword  of  a  victorious  ancestor  ?  And  may 
not  the  whole  world  of  believers,  with  equal, 
with  far  greater  justice,  receive  life  and  sal- 
vation on  account  of  their  all-deserving  Sa- 
viour, especially  since  he  and  they  are  one 
mystical  body,  represented  as  such  in  scrip- 
ture, and  considered  as  such  by  God. 

No,  say  you,  this  is  contrary  to  the  rules 
of  distributive  justice.  What  is  your  idea 
of  a  Surety  ?  How  was  the  affair  stated, 
and  how  were  matters  negotiated,  with  re- 
lation to  your  generous  acquaintance  Phil- 
ander ?  He,  you  know,  \\'as  bound  for  an 
unfortunate  brother,  who  lately  stepped 
aside. 

Ther.  The  debt  by  his  brother's  abscond- 
ing, devolved  upon  Philander.  He  was  re- 
sponsible for  all,  and  obliged  to  i>ay  the 
whole  sum. 

Asp.  Was  not  his  payment  as  satisfac- 
tory to  the  creditor,  as  if  it  had  been  paid 
in  the  debtor's  own  person,  by  the  debtor's 
Own  hand  ? 

Ther.    Certainly. 

Asp.  Was  nos  the  debtor,  by  this  vicaii- 
ous  i)iiyment,  released  from,  all  fear  of  pro- 
secution, and  acquitted  from  luiy  futui'e  de- 
mand on  this  score  ? 

Titer.    He  was. 

Asp.  Apply  this  instance  to  the  redemp- 
tion of  sinners  by  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  in 
the  sacred  writings  ex|)ressly  styled  a  Surety. 
(Heb.  vii.  22.)  If  Philander's  act  was 
deemed,  in  the  estimation  of  law,  the  act 
of  his  brother ;  if  the  deed  of  the  former 
was  imputed,  in  point  of  advantiige,  entij'ely 


to  the  latter  ;  why  should  not  the  same  ef- 
fects take  place,  with  regard  to  the  divine 
bondsman  and  poor  insolvent  sinners  ?  Why 
should  that  be  exploded  in  our  systems  of 
divinity,  which  is  universally  admitted  in 
our  courts  of  justice  ? 

Ther.  Obedience  and  righteousness  are, 
in  the  nature  of  the  things  themselves,  per- 
souid  q'lalities,  and  only  so.  Every  man  is 
that  only  (and  can  be  nothing  else)  which 
he  is  in  himself. 

Asp.  Righteousness,  as  dwelling  in  us, 
is  undoubtedly  a  personal  quality  ;  and  obe- 
dience, as  performed  by  us,  comes  under 
the  same  denomination.  But  does  this 
supersede  the  necessity,  or  destroy  the  ex- 
istence of  imputed  righteousness  ?  Your 
first  proposition  is  ambiguous.  Let  it 
speak  distinctly  ;  add  inherent  to  your  right- 
eousness, and  the  sense  becomes  determi- 
nate, but  the  argument  falls  to  thp  ground. 

"  Every  man  is  that  only  (and  can  be 
nothing  else)  which  he  is  in  liimself."  If 
I  had  never  seen  the  Bible,  I  should  have 
yielded  my  ready  assent  to  this  proposition. 
But,  when  I  0])en  the  Old  Testament,  and 
find  it  written  by  the  prophet,  "  in  the 
Lord  shall  all  the  house  of  Israel  be  justi- 
fied," (Isa.  xlv.  '25,)  when  I  turn  to  the 
New  Testament,  and  hear  the  apostle  say- 
ing, "  Ye  ai'e  complete  in  him,  who  is  the 
head  of  all  principalities  and  powers."  (  Col. 
ii.  10.)  I  cannot  concur  with  Theron, 
without  contradicting  revelation.  Israel, 
or  the  true  believer,  is  said  to  be  justified  ; 
and  the  foundation  of  this  blessing  is  declar- 
ed to  be,  not  in  himself  but  in  the  Lord. 
The  Colossians  are  said  to  be  complete, 
\vliich  we  are  very  certain  they  were  not  in 
themselves,  and  are  expressly  assured  they 
were  so  in  Christ.  Hence  it  appears  quite 
contrary  to  my  friend's  assertion,  that  sin- 
ners both  have  and  are  that  in  Christ,  which 
they  neither  have  nor  are  in  themselves. 
They  have  by  imputation  a  righteousness  in 
Christ ;  they  are,  by  this  imputed  right- 
eousness, complete  before  God. 

I  believe  your  mistake  proceeds  from  ne- 
glecting to  distinguish  between  inherent 
and  imputed.  We  never  suppose  that  a 
profane  person  is  devout,  or  an  intemperate 
person  sober.  This  is  inherent  righteous- 
ness. But  we  maintain  that  the  profane 
and  intemperate,  being  convinced  of  their 
iniquity,  and  betiiking  themselves  to  the 
all-suilicicnt  Saviour  for  redemption,  are  in- 
terested in  the  merit  both  of  his  life  and  of 
his  death.  This  is  imputed  righteousness. 
We  farther  affirm,  that  though  really  abo- 
minable in  themselves,  they  are  fully  accept- 
ed by  God  for  his  beloved  Son's  sake.  This 
is  justification  through  unputed  righteous- 
ness. 

However  strange  this  may  seem,  it  is  no 
precarious   or  unwarrantable    opinion,   but 


200 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


the  clear  and  positive  declaration  of  scrip- 
ture. He  justifieth,  he  absolves  from  giiilt, 
he  treats  as  righteous — Whom  ?  Upright, 
obedient,  sinless  creatures  ?  This  were  no- 
thing extraordinary. — No,  but  "  he  justifieth 
the  ungodly,  that  believe  in  the  Lord  Je- 
sus," (Rom.  iv.  5,)  imputing  as  the  ground 
of  this  justification,  their  trespasses  to  him, 
and  his  righteousness  to  them. 

Ther.  I  see  no  occasion  for  such  nice 
distinctions  and  metaphysical  subtilties,  in 
plain  popular  divinity.  Hard  terms  and 
abstruse  notions  may  perplex  the  head,  but 
seldom  improve  the  heart. 

Asp.  Wliy  then  do  you  oblige  us  to  make 
use  of  them  ?  If  some  people  twist  and  en- 
tangle the  reins',  it  behoves  others  to  clear 
them  of  the  embarrassment,  and  replace 
them  in  their  due  order.  Many  writers, 
either  from  an  artful  design,  or  through  a 
strange  inadvertence,  have  jumbled  and 
confoimded  these  two  very  diiferent  ideas. 
Hence  they  have  started  objections  to  oiu- 
doctrine,  which,  the  moment  you  introduce 
this  obvious  distinction,  vanish  into  air. 
They  fall  into  a  mistake  of  their  own,  and 
then  charge  the  absurdity  upon  others. 

I  am  no  more  fond  of  hard  terms  and 
abstruse  notions  than  my  Theron.  Neither 
can  1  think  the  instance  before  us  so  ab- 
struse a  notion.  I  am  very  certain,  you  are 
capable  of  comprehending  much  higher  and 
nicer  refinements.  Therefore  I  must  once 
again  intreat  you  to  remember  the  very  ma- 
terial difference  between  inherent  and  im- 
puted righteousness.  The  former  is  the 
essence  of  sanctification,  the  latter  is  the 
ground  of  justification.  By  this,  we  are 
restored  to  the  favour  of  God  ;  by  that,  we 
are  made  meet  for  his  heavenly  kingdom. 
Let  this  distinction,  which  is  easy,  which  is 
scriptural,  which  is  important,  take  place, 
and  we  may  for  the  future  dismiss  wliat 
you  call  the  metaphysical  subtilties.  Our 
disagreement  will  cease;,  and  our  opinions 
tally. 

Ther.  I  question  that,  Aspasio.  There 
are  other  difficulties  to  be  got  over  before 
I  can  digest  so  crude  an  opinion.  If  we 
are  justified  by  the  righteousness  of  Christ, 
then  the  righteousness  which  justifies  man- 
kind is  already  wrought  out. 

Asp.  And  this  you  take  to  be  a  most 
enormous  falsehood,  whereas  I  look  upon 
it  as  a  most  delightful  truth.  The  right- 
eousness which  justifies  sinful  man  was 
set  on  foot,  when  God  sent  forth  his 
Son  from  the  habitation  of  bis  holiness  and 
gloiy,  to  be  bom  of  a  woman,  and  made 
subject  to  tlie  law.  It  was  carried  on 
through  the  whole  course  of  our  Saviour's 
life,  in  wiiich  he  always  did  such  things  as 
were  pleasing  to  his  heavenly  Father.  It 
was  completed  at  that  ever  memorable,  that 
grand   period    of  time,    when    the    blessed 


Emmanuel  bowed  his  dying  head,  and  cried 
with  a  strong  triumphant  voice,  "  it  is  fin- 
ished !" 

If  the  justifying  righteousness  was  to  be 
MTOught  by  ourselves,  we  could  never  be 
truly  ajid  fully  justified  till  death,  till  our 
warfare  is  accomplished,  and  our  last  act  of 
obedience  exerted.  But  how  uncomfort- 
able is  such  a  notion !  How  miserable 
would  it  render  our  lives  !  And  how  direct- 
ly does  it  I'un  counter  to  the  determination 
of  the  apostle,  "  Ye  are  justified,"  ( I  Cor. 
vi.  11.) 

Ther.  Soothed,  then,  with  this  pleasing 
surmise,  may  not  the  libertine  say  to  his 
sold,  "  Sold,  take  thine  ease  in  the  most 
indolent  security.  All  my  carnal  appetites, 
indulge  yourselves  without  restraint.  Con- 
science, be  under  no  solicitude  to  live  sober- 
ly, righteously,  and  godly,  for  the  work  is 
done,  all  done  to  my  hands.  I  am  like 
some  fortunate  heir,  whose  parents  have 
been  successfully  industrious,  and  have  left 
nothing  to  exercise  the  diligence  of  their 
siir\'iving  son,  but  only  to  possess  the  inhe 
ritance,  and  live  on  labours  not  his  own." 

Asp.  Thelibertine,  who  only  speculates  or 
disputes;  may  indeed  abuse  the  doctrine  of 
grace.  But  the  believer,  who  feels  the 
power  of  grace,  will  improve  it  to  better 
piu-poses.  Where  the  former  only  fluctuates 
in  the  understanding,  such  detestable  conse- 
quences may  ensue.  Where  the  latter  ope- 
rates on  the  heart,  it  will  always  produce 
very  different  eflfects.  Such  a  person,  from 
such  a  faith,  will  be  no  more  inclined  to  in- 
activity or  licentiousness,  than  our  busy 
humming  companions  are  inclined,  by  this 
bright  sunshine,  and  all  those  expanded 
blossoms,  to  sleep  away  their  hours  in  the 
hive.  And  you  may  as  soon  expect  to  see 
these  colonies  of  the  spring  swarm  in 
December,  clinging  to  an  icicle,  or  dispers- 
ing themselves  to  gather  honey  on  the  snow, 
as  to  see  a  truly  gracious  man  "  who  is  dead 
to  sin,  living  any  longer  therein,"  (Rom,  vi. 
2. )  Whoever,  therefore,  so  shamefully  per- 
verts so  sweet  and  glorious  a  doctrine,  is  a 
witness  against  himself,  that  he  has  neither 
lot  nor  portion  in  the  inestimable  privilege. 
If  an  animal  suck  poison  from  the  most 
wholesome  herbs,  we  are  sure,  from  that 
infallible  indication,  it  is  the  vile  spider,  or 
some  envenomed  insect,  not  the  valuable 
and  industrious  bee. 

Ther.  Truly,  Aspasio,  I  know  not  how 
to  call  that  doctrine  sweet,  much  less  can  I 
recommend  it  as  wholesome,  which  renders 
repentance,  personal  reformation,  and  inhe- 
rent rectitude,  needless.  And  if  your  tenet 
is  once  received,  all  these  duties  may  fairly 
be  dismissed.  So  that  if  the  thing  was 
possible,  yet  it  woidd  be  pernicious. 

Asp.  The  proidict  was  of  another  mind: 
"  They  shall  look  on  him  \\Uom  they  have 


DIALOGUE  V. 


£01 


pierced,  and  moiirn,"  (Zecli.  xi.  10.)  Sin- 
ners shall  look  by  faith  to  their  crucified 
Lord.;  shall  see  him  fastened  with  nails  to 
the  cursed  tree  ;  see  him  stabbed  to  the  heart 
by  the  bloody  spear.  And  remembering 
that  this  was  the  punishment  due  to  their 
provocations,  believing  that  by  this  punish- 
ment they  are  freed  from  all  penal  suffer- 
ings, and  entitled  to  all  spiritual  blessings, — 
they  shall  not  be  tempted  to  transgress,  but 
incited  to  mourn  ;  not  play  the  profligate, 
but  act  the  penitent.  The  apostle  exactly 
Agrees  with  the  prophet ;  and  both  are  dia- 
metrically opposite  to  my  friend :  "  The 
goodness,"  the  transcendent  and  amazing 
goodness  of  God  our  Saviour,  instead  of  di- 
verting from,  "  leadeth  to  repentance," 
(Eom.  ii.  4.) 

Far  from  obstructing,  it  powerfully  pro- 
motes personal  reformation.  For  thus  saith 
that  all-wise  Being,  who  intimately  knows 
our  frame,  and  discerns  what  is  most  effec- 
tual  to  work  upon  our  minds  :  "  The  grace 
of  God,  which  bringeth  salvation,  hath  ap- 
peared ;  teaching  us,  that,  denying  all  vn- 
godliness  and  worldly  lusts,  we  should  live 
soberly,  righteously  and  godly,  in  this  pre- 
sent evil  world,"  (Tit.  ii.  11,  12.)-  Grace, 
you  obsei've,  even  that  gloriously  free  grace, 
which  bringeth  salvation  to  unworthy  crea- 
tiu-es,  is  a  disuasive  of  all  vice,  and  an  en- 
couragement to  every  virtue. 

As  to  inherent  rectitude,  how  can  that  be 
rendered  needless  by  imputed  righteousness? 
Is  health  rendered  insignificant  by  the  abun. 
dance  of  our  riches  ?  Does  ease  become 
superfluous,  through  the  beauty  of  our  ap- 
])arel  ?  Holiness  is  the  health  of  our  souls 
and  the  ease  of  our  minds  ;  whereas,  ungo- 
vernable passions  create  keener  anguish  than 
a  brood  of  vipers  gnawing  our  bosoms. 
Inordinate  desires  are  a  more  intolerable 
nuisance  than  swarms  of  locusts  infesting 
our  abodes.  To  regulate  those,  and  to  re- 
strain these,  can  never  be  needless,  till  com- 
fort and  sorrow  change  their  properties — till 
the  diabolical  nature  becomes  equally  desir- 
able  vvdth  the  divine. 

Ther.  The  believer,  indeed,  out  of  mere 
generosity,  may,  if  he  please,  add  works  of 
righteousness  of  his  own.  But  his  main 
interest  is  secure  without  them. 

Asp.  Rather,  Theron,  he  must  out  of 
duty,  he  will  out  of  gratitude ;  and,  from 
the  new  disposition  of  his  nature,  he  cannot 
but  add  to  his  faith  works  of  righteousness. 

How  runs  the  heavenly  edict  in  this  case 
made  and  provided  ?  "  I  will,  that  they  who 
have  believed  in  God,  be  carefid  to  main- 
tain good  works.* — How  beats  the  pulse  of 


•  Tit.  iii.  8.  The  original  word  T^oiratrCcti  ha?  a 
beauty  and  an  energy,  which,  I  believe,  it  is  impos- 
i-ible  for  our  language  to  preserve,  by  any  literal 
translation.  It  implies,  that  a  believer  .should  not 
only  be  exercised  in,  but  eminent  for,  all  good  worKs  i 


a  believing  soid?  You  may  feel  it  in  that 
trulygenerous  demand  made  by  the  Psalmist, 
"  What  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all 
the  benefits  that  he  hath  done  unto  me," 
(Psalm  cxvi.  12.)  A  grateful  heart  wants 
not  the  goad,  but  is  a  spur  to  itself.  How 
leans  the  bias  of  his  nature  ?  He  is  new 
born  ;  "  created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good 
works,"  (Eph.  ii.  10.)  "his  delight  is  in  the 
law  of  the  Lord,"  (Psalm  i.  2.)  And 
whatever  is  oiu"  supreme  delight,  we  are 
sure  to  prosecute,  and  prosecute  with  ar- 
dour. "  We  cannot  but  speiik  the  things 
which  we  have  seen  and  heard,*  was  the 
profession  of  the  apostles  ;  and,  if  applied 
to  practical  godliness,  is  the  experience  of 
the  Christian. 

Nor  can  his  main  interest  be  secure  with- 
out a  holy  obedience.  Because  the  Judge  of 
the  world,  at  the  day  of  eternal  retribution, 
will  declare  to  the  workers  of  iniquity,  "  I 
never  knew  you  ;  depart  from  me,"  (Matt, 
vii.  23.  :  Because  holiness,  though  not  the 
cause  of  our  admittance  to  the  beatific  vi- 
sion, is  so  necessary  a  qualification,  that 
"  without  it  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord," 
(Heb.  xii.  14.)  Without  it,  there  is  no 
access  to  heaven,  neither  could  there  be  any 
enjoyment  in  heaven. 

llher.  Pray  recollect  yourself,  Aspasio, 
According  to  the  tenor  of  your  own  illus- 
tration, the  necessity  of  personal  obedience 
is  evidently  vacated.  For  how  can  the  law 
demand  a  debt  of  the  principal,  which  has 
been  fully  discharged  by  the  surety  ? 

Asp.  The  debt  of  penal  suffering,  and 
the  debt  of  perfect  obedience,  are  fully  dis- 
charged by  our  divine  Surety,  so  that  we 
are  no  longer  under  a  necessity  of  obeying, 
in  order  to  obtain  an  exemption  from  pun- 
ishment, or  to  lay  the  foundation  for  our 
final  acceptance.  We  are  nevertheless  en- 
gaged, by  many  other  obligations,  to  walk 
in  all  dutifid  and  conscientious  regard  to 
the  law  ;  because  this  is  the  most  authentic 
proof  of  our  love  to  the  gracious  Redeemer : 
"  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments," 
(John  xiv.  15.)  This  is  a  comfortable 
evidence  of  our  union  with  that  exalted 
head :  "  He  that  abideth  in  me,  and  I  in 
him,  the  same  bringeth  forth  much  fruit." 
(John  XV.  5.)  This  is  idso  the  most  ef- 
fectual method  of  adorning  our  profession, 
of  magnifying  its  Author,  and  of  winiung 
our  neighbours  to  embrace  the  gospel :  "  Let 


.should  show  others  the  way,  and  outstrip  them  in  tho 
honourable  race;  be  both  a  pattern,  and  a  patron  of 
universal  godliness. 

*  "  Cannot  but" — This  is  an  expression  used  by 
the  apostles,  Acts  iv.  -M.  It  dcscrilx^s  the  genuine 
and  habitual  propensity  of  their  new  nature.  ."Vs 
the  compassionate  bowels  cannot  but  yearn  at  spec- 
tacles of  misery  :  as  the  benevolent  heart  cannot  but 
dilate  with  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  a  brother's  happi- 
nesj :  so  the  new  creature  in  Christ  cannot  but  desire 
to  glorify,  and  delight  to  obey  the  cver-blciacd  God. 


202 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


joiir  light,"  the  light  of  your  exemplary 
conversation,  not  only  appear,  but  "  shine 
before  men,  that  they,  seeing  your  good 
works,"  may  think  honourably  of  yoiu"  re- 
ligion, (Matt.  V.  16,)  "may  glorify  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven  ;"  and  say,  with 
those  proselytes  mentioned  by  the  prophet, 
"  We  will  go  with  you." 

"  Do  we  then  make  void  the  law,"  through 
the  imputed  righteousness  of  our  Lord  ?  No, 
verily ;  but  if  gratitude  to  our  dying  Savi- 
our have  any  constraining  influence  ;  if  a 
concern  for  our  own  comfort  have  any  per- 
suasive energy  ;  if  there  be  any  thing  invit- 
ing, any  thing  desirable  in  the  prospect  of 
honouring  God,  and  edifying  man — "  we 
establish  the  law."  By  all  these  generous, 
manly,  endearing  motives,  we  enforce  its 
precepts,  and  provide  for  its  observance. 

Tlier.    Should  we   admit  this   doctrine, 
mankind  could  no  longer  be  considered  as 


the  Lord  of  lords  to  become  the  servant 
of  all  ?  Could  it  be  matter  of  duty  in  the 
Khig  of  Glory,  to  embrace  the  infamy  of 
the  cross  ;  and  in  the  Prince  of  life,  to 
pour  out  his  soul  unto  death  ?  If  all  this 
was  matter  of  duty,  the  ever-blessed  Jesus 
(how  shall  I  speak  it !  who  can  believe  it  ?) 
was  no  better  than  an  unprofitable  ser\'ant. 
For  such  is  the  acknowledged  character  of 
every  one  who  does  no  more  than  is  bis 
duty  to  do.  (Luke  xvii.  10.) 

Tlier.  Not  so  fast,  nor  quite  so  vehement, 
my  friend.  Remember  what  the  scripture 
affirms.  Christ  is  said  to  receive  a  com- 
mandment, and  be  subject  to  the  law  ;  both 
which  expressions  evidently  imply  duty. 

Asp.  In  order  to  accomplish  our  redemp- 
tion, the  Son  of  God  submitted  himself  to 
the  authority  of  the  law,  and  became  obedi- 
ent to  its  precepts.  But  this  was  his  own 
spontaneous  act,    the    matter    of  his    free 


in  themselves,  and  solely  in  themselves,  ac- 1  choice  ;  to  which  he  lay  under  no  manner 


countable  creatiues.  Nor  would  the  future 
judgment  be  an  equitable  distribution  of  re- 
wards and  punishments,  but  only  God's 
awful  and  uncontrollable  execution  of  his 
own  arbitrary  and  irreversible  decrees. 

Asp.  I  have  never  been  accustomed  to 
consider  mankind,  under  the  gospel  dispen- 
sation, as  accountable  solely  in  themselves  ; 
because  in  this  comfortable  and  benign 
scheme  a  Mediator  intervenes,  undertakes 
to  answer  for  his  people,  and  bears  the 
chastisement  of  their  peace.  Were  we  ac- 
countable solely  in  ourselves,  Christ  as  our 
great  High- Priest  would  be  set  iiside,  and 
his  sacriiice  as  a  propitiation  for  shi  be  of 
none  effect. 

Why  may  not  the  future  judgment  be  an 
equitable  distribution  of  rewards  and  pun- 
ishments ?  If  those  who  reject  the  atone- 
ment of  the  dying  Jesus,  and  refuse  to  de- 
pend on  his  consummate  righteousness,  are 
left  to  stand  or  fall  according  to  the  issue 
of  their  own  obedience  ;  if  believers,  on 
the  other  hand,  are  accepted  through  their 
most  meritorious  Redeemer,  but  rewarded 
with  higher  or  inferior  degrees  of  felicity, 
in  proportion  to  the  sanctity  of  their  na- 
ture and  usefulness  of  theii'  lives  : — I  see 
nothing  arbitrary  in  this  procedure,  but  an 
admirable  mixture  of  just  severity,  and  free 
goodness  :  on  those  who  reject  the  atone- 
ment, just  severity  ;  to  those  who  rely  on 
their  Saviour,  free  goodness. 

Tlier.  The  obedience  of  Christ  was 
wholly  due  for  himself,  and  therefore  could 
not  merit  for  another. 

Asp.  A  bold  assertion  this !  Whoever 
can  make  it  good,  will  infallibly  overthrow 
my  opinion,  and  at  the  same  time  destroy 
all  my  hopes.  But  surely,  Theron,  it  is 
not  your  real  sentiment. 

Could  it  then  be  matter  of  duty  in  the 
eternal  Son  to  be  burii  of  a  woman  ;  and  in 


of  obligation,    till   he  engaged  to   be   our 
Surety. 

"  Being  in  the  form  of  God,"  he  was 
Lord  of  the  law ;  and  no  more  subject  to 
its  commands  than  obnoxious  to  its  curse. 
Nevertheless,  "  he  took  upon  him  the  form 
of  a  servant,  and  was  made  under  the  law." 
Wherefore  ?  That  he  might  obtain  ever- 
lasting life  and  glory  for  himself?  No  ;  but 
that  he  might  "  redeem  those  who  were 
under  the  law."  (Gal.  iv.  5.)  From  which 
it  appears,  thut  both  his  engagement  and 
his  obedience  were,  not  for  himself,  but  for 
his  people.  Therefore  the  prophet  cries 
out,  with  holy  exultation,  "  To  us  a  Child  is 
born  ;  to  us  a  Son  is  given  !"*  His  incar- 
nate state  and  human  nature,  together  with 
all  that  he  did  and  suffered  in  both,  were 
for  us ;  those  assumed  on  our  account,  these 
referred  to  our  advantage. 

Let  us  consider  this,  and  be  amazed,  and 
be  charmed.  The  great  universal  Lord 
vouchsafes  to  pay  universal  obedience : 
What  condescension  was  here  !  He  vouch- 
safes to  pay  it,  for  us  men,  and  for  ouv  re- 
demption :    What  goodness  was  this  ! 

Ther.  Before  we  indulge  the  devotional 
strain,  we  should  take  care  that  our  devo- 
tion is  founded  on  rational  principles  ;  other- 
wise it  may  prove,  like  the  flash  of  a  sky- 
rocket, transient  and  momentary. 

Asp.  For  this,  I  think  theie  is  a  solid 
foundation  in  reason,  as  well  as  scripture. 
As  soon  as  the  man  Christ  Jesus  was  unit- 
ed to  the  second  person  of  the  Trinity,  he 
must  have,  by  virtue  of  that  union,  an  un- 
questionable right  to  everlasting  hfe  and 
glory ;  therefore  he  could  be  under  no  nft- 


»  Isa.  ix.  6.  "Est  praeterea emphasis  singulans  iij 
voce  nobis.  Significat  id,  quod  omnes  sentiunt,  nos- 
tro  bono  et  commodo  natum  esse  hunc  Pueruin  Im- 
licratorem." — Vitrins.  in  loc. 


DIALOGUE  V. 


903 


CEs'sity  of  obeying,  in  order  to  procure 
either  honour  or  happiness  for  himself. 
But  all  that  he  performed  in  conformity  to 
the  preceptive  part  of  the  law,  he  perform- 
ed under  the  character  of  a  public  person, 
in  the  place  and  for  the  benefit  of  his  spiri- 
tual seed,  that  they  might  be  interested  in 
it,  and  justified  by  it. 

Ther.  Be  it  so  :  the  believer  is  interested 
in  Christ's  righteousness.  Pray,  is  he  in- 
terested in  all,  or  only  in  part  ?  If  in  all, 
then  every  believer  is  equally  righteous,  and 
equally  to  be  rewarded ;  which  is  contrary 
to  an  allowed  maxim,  that  there  will  be  dif- 
ferent allotments  of  happiness  in  the  hea- 
venly world.  If  in  part  only,  how  will  you 
ascertain  the  degree — what  proportion  be- 
longs to  tliis  person,  and  what  to  the  other  ? 
Either  way,  your  scheme  is  inextricably  em- 
bairassed. 

A.tp.  The  reply  to  my  Theron's  inquiry 
is  easy  ;  and  the  embarrassment  he  meu— 
tions  is  but  imaginary.  Every  true  believer 
is  interested  in  aU  Christ's  righteousness — in 
the  whole  merit  of  his  spotless  nature,  of 
his  perfect  obedience,  and  expiatory  death. 

Less  than  the  whole  would  be  unavail- 
able. Whereas  the  whole  renders  us  com- 
pletely justified. 

You  are  a  great  admirer  of  anatomy, 
Theron,  and  must  undoubtedly  remember 
tlie  very  peculiar  structure  of  the  ear.  Other 
parts  of  the  body  are  progressive  in  their 
growth  :  their  bulk  is  proportioned  to  the 
infantile  or  manly  age.  But  the  organs  of 
healing,  I  have  been  informed,  are  jjrecisely 
of  the  same  size,  in  the  feeble  infant  and 
tlie  confirmed  adult.  Justification  likewise, 
being  absolutely  necessary  to  a  state  of  ac- 
ceptance with  God,  is  in  every  stage  of  the 
Chi'istian  coiu-se,  and  even  in  the  first  dawn 
of  sincere  faith,  complete.  With  regard  to 
the  existence  of  the  privilege,  there  is  no 
difTerence  in  the  babes,  the  young  men,  the 
fathers  in  Christ.*  The  perception,  the 
assurance,  the  comfortable  enjoyment  of  the 
mercy,  may  increase  ;  but  the  mercy  itself 
is  incapable  of  augmentation. 

The  varioug  advances  in  sanctification 
account  for  the  various  degrees  of  future 
glory  ;  and  not  account  for  them  only,  but 
render  them  entirely  reasonable,  and,  accord- 
ing to  our  apprehension  of  things,  unavoid- 
able. As  to  settling  the  proportion,  we 
may  safely  leave  that  to  the  supreme 
Arbitrator.       He,   "  who   meteth  out    the 


•  To  the  same  purpose  speaks  one  of  our  most  cele- 
brated divines ;  as  great  an  adept  in  sarred  literature 
as  aRts  have  produced. — "  All  are  justified  alike ;  the 
truth  of  faith  justifying,  not  the  measure.  Justifica- 
tion therefore  is  the  same  in  all  that  believe;  though 
their  helief  be  in  ditt'erent  degrees.  So,  once  in  the 
wildei-ness,  all  galheiwl  not  niaiiiia  in  the  same  mea- 
sure, yet  when  all  oiu  i.- tdincisuro,  they  had  all  alike; 
none  above  an  ouier,  none  under." 

I/Zi/iC/oor,  vol.  ii.  p.  1052. 


heavens  vdth  a  span,  and  sctteth  a  compass 
upon  the  face  of  the  deep,"  cannot  be  at  a 
loss  to  adjust  this  particular. 

Titer,  The  organs  of  healing,  though  not 
precisely,  are  very  nearly,  of  tiie  same  biUk 
in  the  liabe  and  the  man.  They  acquire, 
from  advancing  years,  scarce  any  thing  more 
than  an  increase  of  solidity.  So  that  I 
make  no  objection  to  yoiu:  illustration,  but 
to  yoiu-  doctrine. 

if  Christ  has  done  all,  and  we  are  en- 
titled to  his  whole  merits  only  by  believing 
— to  be  saved  must  be  the  easiest  thing  in 
the  world  :  whereas  the  Bible  represents 
Christianity  as  a  race  and  a  warfare,  a  state 
of  confiict  and  a  course  of  striving.  In 
good  truth,  Aspasio,  you  prophesy  pleasing 
things.  Divinity  is  not  your  profession,  or 
else  I  shoidd  number  you  among  "  the 
smooth  emoUient  do^Tiy  doctors."  For, 
according  to  the  articles  of  yoiu-  creed,  there 
is  no  more  difficidty  in  securing  heaven, 
than  in  rising  from  our  seat. 

Asp.  A  speculative  assent  to  all  the  princi- 
ples of  religion,  js,  I  acknowledge,  a  very 
easy  matter.  It  may,  it  must  exist,  wherever 
there  is  a  tolerable  capacity  for  reasoning, 
and  a  due  attention  to  evidence.  This  no- 
tional faith  forced  its  way  into  the  breast  of 
Simon  the  sorcerer,  (Acts  viii.  1.3,)  and  ex- 
torted a  confession  from  the  dying  lips  of  Ju- 
lian* the  apostate.  Irresistible  as  the  stroke 
of  lightning,  terrible  also  as  its  fiery  glare,  it 
flashes  conviction  into  the  very  devils. 
Even  those  execrable  spirits,  "believe  and 
tremble."  (James  ii.  19.) 

But  the  faith  which,  f;u-  from  resting  in 
specidation,  exalts  the  desires,  regidates  the 
passions,  and  refines  the  whole  conversa- 
tion ;  the  faith  which,  according  to  the  ex- 
pressive language  of  Scripture,  "  purifies 
the  heart,  overcomes  the  world,  and  sets  the 
afl^ections  on  things  above  ;" — this  tridy 
noble  and  triumphant  faith  is  no  such  easy 
acquisition.  This  is  the  gift  of  an  infinite 
Benefactor,  the  work  of  a  divine  Agent ; 
called  therefore  by  way  of  super-eminent 
distinction,  "  faith  of  the  operation  of  God," 
(Col.  ii.  12,)  because  God  himself,  by  the 
efl!ectual  working  of  his  mighty  power,  pro- 
duces it  in  the  human  soul. 

The  exercise  of  this  faith  I  woiUd  not 
compare  to  an  active  gentleman  rising  from 
his  seat,  but  rather  to  a  shipwrecked  mari- 
ner, labouring  to  gain  some  jdace  of  safety.- 
He  espies  a  large  rock  which  rears  its  head 
above  the  boisterous  flood.  To  this  he  bears 
away,  and  to  this  he  approaches  ;  but  whirl- 
ing winds  and  dashing  waves  drive  him  back 


*  It  is  related  in  ecclesiastical  history,  that  the  Em- 
peror Julian,  that  royal  but  wretched  apostate,  in  an 
engagement  with  the  Parthians,  wasmortally  wound- 
ed; and  that  he  cried,  with  his  expiring  breath,  "  Vi- 
risti.OGalikre!" — I  am  vanquished,0  Galilean;  thy 
right  hand  halh  the  pre-emiueuce ! 


26) 


THEKON  AND  ASPASIO. 


to  ail  unhappy  distance.  Exerting  all  his 
strength,  he  advances  nearer  still,  and  at- 
tempts to  climb  the  desirable  eminence, 
when  a  sweeping  surge  interposes,  and 
drenches  him  again  in  the  rolling  deep.  By 
determined  efforts,  he  recovers  the  space  he 
bad  lost.  Now  he  fastens  on  the  cliff,  and 
has  almost  escaped  the  danger.  But  there 
is  such  a  numbness  in  his  limbs  that  he  can- 
not maintain  his  hold,  and  such  an  impetu- 
ous  swell  in  the  ocean  that  he  is  once  more 
dislodged,  and  plunged  afresh  into  the  rag- 
iiag  billows.  What  can  he  do  ?  His  life, 
bis  precious  life  is  at  stake.  He  must  re- 
new, still  renew,  and  never  intennit  his  en- 
deavours. Neither  let  him  abandon  him- 
self to  despair.  The  Master  sees  him 
amidst  all  his  fruitless  toil.  Let  him  ciy 
earnestly,  "Lord  save  me,  I  pei-ish!"  and 
he  who  commandeth  the  winds  and  the 
waves  will  be  sure  to  put  forth  his  benefi- 
cent hand,  and  rescue  him  from  the  devour- 
ing sea. 

Such,  my  friend,  so  painful,  so  assiduous 
are  the  struggles  of  faith,  before  it  can  rest 
in  peaceful  security  on  the  "  Rock  of  Ages, 
Christ  Jesus."  Of  this  you  may,  some 
time  or  other,  be  assured,  not  only  from  my 
lips,  but  from  your  own  experience. 

Ther.  What  may  happen  in  some  future 
period  of  time,  is  beyond  my  power  to  fore- 
see. At  present,  I  am  apt  to  think,  we  must 
j>ut  a  stop  to  the  theological  lecture.  Do 
you  not  remember  our  engagement  with 
Altinous?  and  you  will  own,  that  punctuali- 
ty in  performing  our  promises  is  at  least  a 
moral  virtue,  if  it  be  not  a  Christian  grace. 


DIALOGUE  VL 

A?PASio's  affairs  called  him  to  London. 
He  staid  in  town  a  few  days ;  but  as 
soon  as  business  was  finished,  he  quitted 
the  city,  and  hastened  to  his  friend's  coun- 
try-seat. Upon  his  arrival,  he  found  some 
agreeable  company,  that  came  to  spend  the 
evening  with  the  family.  This  incident 
prevented  the  immediate  prosecution  of 
their  subject.  As  the  next  morning  proved 
misty,  and  unfit  for  walking  abroad,  The- 
pon  invited  Aspasio  to  pass  an  hour  in  his 
study. 

It  was  situated  at  the  extremity  of  a 
large  gallery,  whicii,  while  it  conducted  the 
feet  to  a  repository  of  learning,  interposed 
between  the  ear,  and  all  the  disturbance  of 
domestic  affairs ;  so  that  you  are  accommo- 
diited  with  every  thing  that  may  regale  a 
studious  mind  ;  and  incommoded  with  no- 
thing that  may  interrupt  a  sedate  attention. 
Aspasio  readily  consented  to  the  proposal ; 
but  desired  fu'st  to  take  a  turn  in  this  beau- 


tiful oblong,  and  divert  himself  with  the- 
decorations  of  the  place. 

Asp.  A  very  short  survey,  Theron,  is 
sufficient  to  discover  the  correctness  of  your 
judgment,  and  the  true  delicacy  of  your  taste. 
Here  are  no  impertinent  and  frivolous  ex- 
hibitions of  romantic  tales  or  poetic  stories. 
Here  are  no  indecent  pieces  of  imagery,  that 
tend  to  corrupt  a  chaste,  or  inflame  a  wan- 
ton fancy.  On  the  contraiy,  I  am  present- 
ed with  a  collection  of  maps,  accurately 
drawn  by  the  most  able  hands ;  and  with 
several  remarkable  transactions  of  aniquity, 
most  eloquently  told  in  the  language  of  the 
pencil.  You  have  happily  hit  that  grand 
point,  which  the  gentleman  of  refinement, 
as  well  as  the  author  of  genius,  should  ever 
keep  in  view — the  union  of  the  beneficial 
with  the  delightfid. 

Ther.  Indeed,  my  Aspasio,  I  have  often 
been  disappointed,  sometimes  even  shocked, 
in  the  gardens,  the    porticos,  and  the  walks 

of  some  modem  virtuosi Their  portraits 

and  statues  ai-e  little  else  but  an  assemblage 
of  elaborate  trifles.  Ixion  stretched  upon 
the  wheel,  or  Phaeton  precipitated  from  the 
chariot.  Apollo  stringing  his  lyre,  or  Ju- 
piter (I  beg  his  supreme  highness'  pardon, 
for  not  giving  him  the  precedence  in  my 
catalogue)  bestriding  his  eagle  and  balancing 
his  bolts.  Pray,  where  is  the  advantage  of 
being  introduced  to  this  fabulous  tribe  of 
gentry  ?  What  noble  idea  can  they  awaken, 
or  what  valuable  impression  leave  upon  the 
mind  ?  The  best  we  can  say  of  such  perform- 
ances is,  that  they  are  Umning  and  sculp- 
ture ex])ensively  thrown  away. 

This  celebrated  trumpery  one  can  bear 
with  however.  But  when  the  painting  and 
sculpture,  instead  of  cidtivating  virtue,  and 
improving  oiu:  morals,  are  calculated  to  be 
tlie  very  bane  of  both — will  you  caU  this  an 
elegant  entertsiinment?  No  :  it  is  a  nuisance  ; 
it  is  a  pest.  In  the  statues,  I  grant,  every 
dimple  sinks,  and  every  muscle  swells,  with 
the  exactest  propriety.  The  countenance 
is  animated  with  life,  and  the  limbs  are 
ready  to  start  into  motion.  The  picture, 
I  am  sensible,  is  as  highly  finished  as  the 
effigy  :  the  distributions  of  light  and  shade 
most  artfully  adjusted;  the  diminutions  of 
the  perspective  true  to  a  nicety ;  nor  can 
any  thing  exceed  the  easy  flow  of  the  robe, 
imless  it  be  the  graceful  attitude,  and  al- 
most speaking  aspect,  of  the  principal  figure. 
But  is  this  masterly  execution  an  equiva- 
lent for  the  most  malignant  effects?  for 
sullying  the  purity  of  my  fancy,  and  poison- 
ing the  powers  of  my  imagination  ? 

Is  it  an  indication  of  the  owner's  judi- 
cious taste,  to  prefer  regularity  of  features 
in  the  hammered  block,  before  orderly  and 
liarmonious  afl^ections  in  his  own  breast'' 
Does  it  bespeak  a  refined  disposition,  or  a 
benevolent  temper,  to  be   so  extravagantly 


DIALOGUE  Vr. 


205 


enamoured  with  the  touches  of  a  lascivious 
pencil,  as  to  expose  them  in  the  most  fre- 
quented passages,  and  obtrude  them  on  every 
unwiuy  guest  ?  Surely,  this  can  create  no 
very  advantageous  o])inion  of  a  gentleman's 
intellectual  discernment ;  much  less  can  it 
raise  an  amiable  idea  of  his  moral  charac- 
ter.* On  such  occasions  I  am  strongly 
tempted  to  suspect  that  real  honour  is  a 
stranger  where  common  decencyf  is  want- 
ing. 

As  for  the  artist,  one  can  hardly  forbear 
execrating  his  hateful  folly,  who  could  pros- 
titute such  fine  talents  to  such  infamous 
puq)oses.  Detested  be  the  chisel  that 
teaches,  though  with  inimitable  dexterity, 
the  cold  obdurate  marble,  to  enkindle  dis- 
solute affections.  Abhorred  be  the  pencil 
that  makes  no  other  use  of  the  most  lovely 
colours,  than  to  pollute  the  canvass,  and  in- 
snai'e  the  spectator. 

It  is  argued,  I  know,  that  many  of  those, 
pieces  aie  the  completest  models  extant. 
An  everlasting  reproach  this  to  the  art ; 
but  no  apology  for  the  performances ;  since 
the  more  nicely  they  are  executed,  the  more 
mischievous^  is  their  influence.  It  strikes 
the  surer,  and  sinks  the  deeper.  It  dresses 
destruction  gay,  and  paves  with  beauty  the 
way  to  min. 


*  It  is  a  pity,  but  the  advice  of  Cicero,  that  great 
master  of  eleg  nt  taste  and  polite  manners,  was  re- 
ceived as  a  standard  of  regulation  by  all  our  connois- 
seurs in  tlie  fine  arts:  "In  iiriniis  provideat,  ne  or- 
namenta  a'dium  atque  hortorum  vitiura  aliquod  in- 
dicent  inesse  moribus." — De  Ofiic. 

t  A  gentleman  observing  some  gross  indelicacies  of 
this  kind  at  the  seat  of  a  person  of  distinction,  very 
acutc-ly  (and,  I  believe,  too  justly)  said,  "  His  paint- 
ings are  the  gibbet  of  his  name." 

t  I  hope  it  will  not  be  thought  improper,  I  wish  it 
was  entirely  needless,  to  animadvert  upon  a  practice, 
which  is  not  only  a  reproach  to  our  Christian  profes- 
sion, butau  insult  upon  national  decorum — theprac- 
tice  of  exposing  to  public  view,  and  oflbring  to  pub- 
lic sale,  such  shameful  prints,  as  are  fitted  inly  to 
create  licentious  desires  and  cherish  the  most  prolii- 
gate  dispositions. 

.Such  spectacles  are  a  species  of  the  rankest  poison. 
And  can  the  poison  be  less  pernicious,  because  it  is 
received  at  the  eye,  instead  of  passing  through  the 
lips  ?  Because  it  tends  more  immediately  to  debauch 
the  morals,  and  but  remotely  to  destroy  theconstitu- 
tion  ?  No  wonder  so  many  of  our  youths  are  corrupt- 
ed, and  so  many  robberies  committed,  whilesuch  scenes 
of  pictured  lewdness  are  suttered  to  inflame  them  with 
lust,  and  habituate  them  to  impudence. 

Another  very  indecent  custom  lias  unaccountably 
stole  its  way  into  several  performances  of  genius  and 
elegance.  The  custom,  1  mean  of  representing  the 
muses,  the  graces,  and  other  romantic  personages  in 
the  form  ot  beautiful  ladies,  partly,  if  not  entirely, 
raked.  It  is  true,  here  are  no  loose  adventures;  no 
immodest  gestures,  nay  more,  he  artist  expresses  hiv 
own  and  consults  your  modesty, by  presenting  you  with 
a  position  m  jirolile,  by  the  intervention  of  a  foliage, 
or  the  lappet  of  a  robe.  But  let  me  ask  the  ingenious 
operator,  if  he  would  choose  to  introduce  his  wife  or 
his  daughter,  in  such  a  manne  ,  to  public  company  ? 
Is  he  startled  ai  the  question  ?  is  he  shocked  at  the 
thought?  I'hen  iethimretiect,  and  let  others  consider, 
whether  that  can  be  graceful  or  allowable  in  a  picture, 
which  would  be  brutal  and  unsufferable  in  common 
life. 

.^ocratej  (who,  before  his  application  to  pliilo- 
sophy,  practised  as  a  statuary)  could  not  but  blush 
at  this  abuse  of  his  art :  and,  being  to  form  a  repre- 
&.ntation  of  the  graces,  he  represented  them  properly 
habited. 


It  is  my  chief  ambition,  Aspasio,  to  have 
all  my  decorations  so  circumstanced,  that 
the  beholder  may  leant  some  valuable  lesson 
i'n  morality,  or  be  reminded  of  some  import- 
ant event  in  history, — may  find,  even  in  the 
scenes  of  his  amusement,  something  to  es- 
tablish his  virtue,  or  enlarge  his  know- 
ledge. 

I  frequently  entertain  my  eldest  son,  who 
is  reading  the  Greek  and  Latin  historians, 
with  an  explanation  of  my  principal  draw- 
ings, that  he  may  behold  in  colouring,  what 
he  has  perused  in  narrative. — At  this  in- 
stant, the  youth  happened  to  make  his  ap- 
pearance, paying  his  respects  to  Aspasio, 
and  dutifully  saluting  his  father.  It  just 
recurs  to  my  memory,  said  Theron,  that 
some  necessary  affairs  of  the  family  require 
my  attendance  tor  a  few  minutes.  Will 
you  excuse  my  absence,  good  A.spasio  ;  and 
permit  my  son  to  supply  my  place. 

You  will  very  much  oblige  me  by  leav- 
ing me  such  a  companion — And  come,  my 
dear  Sir,  addressing  himself  to  Eugenio,  as 
I  know  you  are  a  lover  of  learning,  what 
think  you  of  diverting  ourselves  with  these 
agreeable  books  ?  which  give  us  their  in- 
structive lessons,  not  in  puzzling  languages, 
but  in  pleasing  colours.  Eugenio  spoke  his 
consent,  and  expressed  his  modesty,  by  a 
becoming  blush,  while  Aspasio  proceed- 
ed  

Asp.  This  is  a  striking  picture  indeed : 
Hills  piled  on  hills  form  a  most  astonishing 
prospect.  What  horrible  magnificence  reigns 
amidst  those  wild  and  shaggy  rocks  !  Na- 
ture seems  to  have  designed  them  for  the 
boundaries  of  the  world.  Yet  those  d;n-ing 
troops  are  attempting  to  pass  the  prodigious 
barrier :  Who  are  they,  Eugenio ;  and  whom 
shiJl  we  call  their  leader  ? 

Eijy.  This,  Sir,  is  the  famoits  Ilamiibal, 
heading  and  encouraging  his  army  in  the 
passage  of  the  Alps.  I'he  sons  of  Africa 
seem  to  shiver  with  cold,  as  they  traverse 
those  frozen  regions,  and  march  among  the 
clouds. 

Asp.  It  is  the  very  same.  Some,  you 
observe,  climb  with  excessive  toil,  the  steep 
and  craggy  cliffs.  Others,  with  far  greater 
diflicuhy,  descend  through  dreadful  declivi- 
ties of  ice,  e.\j)osed  all  the  while  to  the  ar- 
rows of  the  moimtaineers.  Some,  endea- 
vouring to  avoid  the  showers  of  steel,  slip 
wTth  their  feet,  and  tumble  headlong  down  the 
vast  projecting  promontories.  See  from  what 
a  height  they  are  falling  !  carriages  and  their 
drivers,  the  horse  and  his  rider,  and  at  what 
a  distance  still  from  the  stony  abyss  below  ! 
Some  lie  with  closed  eyelids  and  ghastly 
features,  dashed  to  death  at  the  very  bottom. 
Others,  writhing  with  the  torture  of  mangled 
limbs  and  broken  bones,  lift  up  an  agonizing 
look  to  their  comrtules.  Their  comrades, 
insensible  of  a  brother's  misery,  and  wholly 


206 


THERON  AKD  ASPASIO. 


intent  upon  their  own  preservation,  hang 
frightfully  suspended  on  the  edges  of  the 
precipice.  The  precipice  seems  to  tot- 
ter as  they  cling  ;  and  the  alarmed  specta- 
tor expects  every  moment  a  hideous  down- 
fall. Are  you  not  startled  at  the  view, 
Eugenio,  and  in  pain  for  the  hardy  adven- 
turers ? 

Eug.  I  am,  Sir.  And  I  wonder  how  they 
will  extricate  themselves  from  these  peril- 
ous circumstances.  I  have  read  in  Livy, 
that  they  cut  their  way  through  the  rocks, 
after  they  had  softened  them  with  vinegar. 
But  is  this  probable  ?  how  could  they  pro- 
cure a  sufficient  quantity  amidst  those  deso- 
late mountains  ? 

Asp.  I  believe  their  resolution  and  their 
perseverance  were  the  ^dnegar.  These  open 
a  road  through  rocks.  These,  under  the 
conduct  of  prudence,  and  the  favour  of  hea- 
ven,* surmount  aU  obstacles.  Influenced 
by  these,  the  survivors  press  boldly  on,  and 
are  determined  to  vanquish  the  horrors  of 
nature,  as  a  prelude  to  their  victory  over 
the  forces  of  Rome.  Let  these,  resolution 
andperservance  Imean,  be  the  companions  of 
my  Eugenio's  youthful  studies,  and  they  will 
enable  him  also  to  conquer  difficulties — even 
all  the  difficulties  which  lie  in  his  way  to 
true  religion  and  sound  learning. 

What  is  our  next  draught !  At  each  end  we 
have  a  group  of  living  figures.  All  tlie  inter- 
mediate space  is  an  extensive  tract  of  land, 
diversified  only  by  rapid  rivers,  horrid  de- 
serts, and  mountainous,  ridges  ;  with  here 
and  there  a  few  savage  natives  in  uncouth 
dresses,  and  formidable  arms.  It  is  more 
like  a  map  than  a  picture  ;  and  the  most 
remarkable  beauty  is  the  aerial  perspective  ; 
which  puts  a  very  agreeable  cheat  upon  our 
eyes  ;  causing  us  to  behold  on  an  ell  of  can- 
vass the  space  of  many  hundreds  of  miles. 

Euy.  This  represents  the  retreat  of  the 
ten  thousand  Greeks.  First  we  behold 
them  in  the  plains  of  Media  ;  at  an  immense 
distance  from  their  native  coimtry  ;  without 


*  Under  the  favour  of  heaven.  I  cannot  but  wish 
ithat  the  relator  of  Lord  Anson's  voyage  round  the 
world  had  anticipated  Aspasio's  remark;  had  made 
some  grateful  acknowledgments  to  an  interposing 
Providence,  in  that  masculine,  nervous,  noble  narra- 
tive: A  narrative  of  such  signal  deliverances,  so  cri- 
tically timed,  and  so  surprisingly  circumstanced,  as 
in  the  course  of  one  expeaition,  are  scarcely  to  be  par- 
alleled. 

I  am  persuaded,  it  would  have  been  no  disparage- 
ment of^  the  great  commander,  and  his  gallant  offi- 
cers, to  have  it  thankfully  recognised,  on  some  very 
unexpected,  yet  most  advantageous  turn  of  affairs, 
"this hath  God  done!"  Neither  could  it  have  de- 
.tracted  from  the  merit  of  the  brave  sailors,  to  have 
confessed,  on  many  hazardous  emergencies,  that  all 
their  resolution,  all  their  address,  and  the  exertion 
of  their  utmost  abilities,  had  been  only  lost  labour, 
without  the  remarkable  co-operation  of  divine  good- 
ness. And  I  am  apprehensive,  that  it  must  consider- 
ably diminish  the  delight  of  many  readers,  to  observe 
the  blessed  author  of  all  these  mercies  passed  by  un- 
noticed, unacknowledged,  and  without  any  sliare  of 
the  praise. 

The  sarcasm  on  Pope  Adrian  and  his  exploits,  I 
fear,  would  be  too  proper  on  this  occasion,  Hie  Deus 
nihil  fecit. 


guides  ;  without  provision  ;  and,  what  is  lh» 
most  desperate  ciilamity  of  all,  deprived  of 
their  ablest  officers  by  treachery  and  murder. 
Well  may  they  lock  dejected  I  How  Lave 
I  pitied  them  as  I  read  their  story  ?  abhor- 
red the  perfidy  of  their  enemies  ;  and  wish- 
ed them  all  success  in  their  hazardous  en-r 
terprise ! 

Asp.  Do  not  you  perceive  their  drooping 
spirits  begin  to  re\dve,  and  some  gleam  of 
hope  difl^uses  itself  through  their  counten- 
ances, while  they  listen  to  the  eloquent 
Xenophon,  who  stands  conspicuous  in  the 
midst,  haranguing  his  soldiers,  and  rousing 
their  courage.  But,  all !  what  a  vast  ex^ 
tent  of  unknown  climes  must  they  traverse, 
with  a  numerous  and  \ictorious  army  har- 
assing them  in  flank,  or  hanging  upon  their 
rear?  What  fatigues  must  they  sustain, 
what  hardships  endiu-e,  before  they  arrive 
at  their  wished-for  l.oroe  ! — Fired  by  the 
enchanting  name,  and  animated  by  their 
brave  philosophic  leader,  they  resolve  to 
push  their  way  through  all  the  extremes  of 
peril  and  of  pain.  To  scatter,  with  their 
little  band,  the  encircling  millions  of  bar- 
barians, is  the  smallest  of  their  achieve- 
ments. They  cross  rivers,  they  scale  rocks, 
whose  slippery  banks,  and  craggy  summits, 
are  lined  with  opposing  nations.  They 
wade  through  deserts  of  snow  ;  and  pass 
over  inhos])itable  mountains,  the  far  mere 
dreaded  abodes  of  desolation,  drought  and 
famine.  They  encounter  the  keenness  of 
the  northern  storm,  and  all  the  rigour  of  the 
most  malignant  seasons.  As  some  of  these 
articles  are  incapable  of  being  expressed  by 
the  pencil,  the  artist  remits  us  to  the  his- 
torian, and  has  contented  himself  with 
marking  out  the  most  distinguished  stages 
of  this  memorable  expedition.  Only  we 
\aew  the  courageous  itinerants,  once  again, 
on  a  pretty  lofty  eminence.  There  they 
appear,  not  with  their  former  dejection,  but 
in  all  the  transports  of  joy. 

Eiuj.  This,  Sir,  is  the  mountain  Tecqua, 
from  whence  they  had  the  first  view  of  the 
sea,  and  the  first  dawn  of  safety^  There 
they  embrace  one  another,  and  extol  their 
commanders,  especially  the  noble  Xeno- 
phon, whose  history  gives  me  great  delight, 
and  his  manly  yet  benign  aspect  strangely 
attracts  my  esteem.  Methinks,  under  such 
a  general,  I  could  have  been  willing  to  take 
my  share  in  all  the  toil  and  all  the  hazards 
of  the  expedition. 

Asp.  Would  my  Eugenio  ?  Then  I  wiU 
list  him  under  a  Captain  unspeakably  more 
accomplished  and  beneficent.  Young  as  you 
are,  you  shall,  from  this  hour  commence  a 
soldier  and  a  traveller  ; — a  soldier,  to  fight 
against  sin,  and  eveiy  temptation — a  tra- 
veller, to  pass  through  the  wilderness  of 
this  worid,  unto  the  land  of  evcriasting  rest. 
Though  yoiu-  enemies   may  be   numerous. 


DIALOGUE  VI. 


207 


and  your  joumey  tedious,  yet  faint  not, 
neither  be  discouraged.  The  Lord  of  hea- 
ven is  your  guide,  and  heaven  itself  shall 
be  your  exceeding  great  reward.  When 
you  arrive  at  those  happy  abodes,  your  de- 
light will  infinitely  surpass  all  that  the 
Grecians  felt  on  Tecqua,  when  their  ra- 
vished eyes  beheld,  and  their  tongues  with 
ecstasy  shouted,  "  the  sea  !  the  sea  !" 

The  scene  of  yonder  picture,  I  would 
venture  to  affirm,  lies  among  the  ancient 
Jews. 

Evg.  How  can  yon  tell  this,  Sir,  at  such 
a  distance  ? 

Asp.  By  "  the  fringes  in  the  borders  of 
their  garments,  and  on  each  fringe  a  riband 
of  blue."  God  Almighty  commanded  all 
the  Jews  to  observe  this  peculiarity  in  theii' 
habit,*  that  their  very  clothes,  being  differ- 
ent from  the  apparel  of  their  heathen  neigh- 
bours, might  admonish  them  not  to  be  con- 
formed to  their  idolatrous  worship  and  li- 
rentious  manners.  This,  as  well  as  every 
other  divine  command,  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  most  exactly  obeyed.  Therefore 
We  are  told  by  the  ev;mgelical  historian, 
that  the  diseased  woman,  "  who  touched 
but  the  hem  of  his  garment,  was  restored 
to  health."  Hem  it  is  in  our  English  bibles  ; 
but,  if  you  consult  that  most  excellent  of 
all  books,  the  Greek  Testament,  you  will 
find,  that  the  original  word  might  more  pro- 
perly be  rendered y7w<7e.f  However,  let  us 
pass  from  the  drapery  to  the  design. 

Eiig.  Here  we  see  David  in  one  of  the 
most  threatening  exigencies  of  his  whole 
life.  Saul,  more  like  a  blood-hound  than 
a  king,  ])ursnes  the  best  of  sons,  and  the 
most  valuable  of  subjects.  He  has  extend- 
ed the  wings  of  his  very  superior  army,  in 
order  to  surround|  the  injiu"ed  hero  and 
his  handful  of  associates. 


»  One  would  wonder  how  the  Jews  can  so  tenaci- 
ously adhere  to  their  law,  and  yet  so  apparently  ne- 
glect its  precepts.  Where  are  the  sons  of  Abraham, 
Avho  observe  this  express  and  positive  command  of 
Jehovah  !  Though  this  indeed  might  be  obeyed,  yet 
majiy  of  the  Mosaical  injunctions  are  rendered,  and 
by  nothing  less  than  the  dispensations  of  Providence, 
absolutely  impracticable.  Is  not  this,  therefore,  a 
most  incontestible  proof — a  proof,  not  invented  by 
the  arts  of  sophistry,  but  written  by  the  finger  of  the 
Almighty  himself — that  the  legal  ordinances  are  abol- 
ished, in  order  to  make  way  for  a  better  dispensa- 
tion ?  When  the  avenues  are  l)ecome  inaccessible,  the 
house  imtenantable,  and  the  jjrincipal  apartments  ir- 
reparably decayed ;  is  not  this  the  most  cogent  ad- 
monition to  the  inhabitants,  that  they  betake  them- 
selves to  some  new  and  more  commodious  residence  ? 
See  Numb.  xv.  .38. 

t  Matt.  ix.  20.     KjaT^-Sov. 

%  To  this,  or  some  such  incident,  may  be  applied  a 
passage  of  the  Psalms,  which,  in  our  translation,  is 
very  obscure ;  has  scarce  any  sense,  or  if  any,  a  very 
unjustifiable  one.  "  Wherefore  should  I  fear  in  the 
days  of  evil,  when  the  wickedness  of  my  heels  com- 
passpth  me  round  about?"  Psalm  xlix.  .'J.  Where- 
fore !  The  reason  is  \ery  apparent :  When  wickedness 
cleaves  to  a  jiorson's  heels,  or  liabitu<illy  attends  his 
goings,  it  raises  an  army  of  terrors;  it  unshealhs  the 
sword  of  divine  vengeance,  an<l  levels  at  his  guilty 
head  evcrv  threatening  in  the  book  of  God. 

Surely  tlien  another  translation  siiould  be  given  to 


Aap.  This  is  the  most  animated,  and  I 
think  the  most  masterly  perfonnimce,  that 
has  liitherto  come  under  our  notice.  Con- 
sternation and  doubt  agitate  their  looks. 
Shall  they  surrender  themselves,  as  so  many 
tame  victims,  to  a  tjTant's  fury  ;  or  shall 
they  cut  their  way  to  safety,  through  the 
hearts  of  countrymen,  friends,  and  brothers? 
Dreadful  dilemma  !  While  they  are  debat- 
ing, the  pursuers  are  closing  upon  them. 
A  few,  a  few  miiuites  more,  must  decide 
their  fate.  But  who  is  the  person  that  in- 
tervenes, just  at  this  critical  juncture  ? 

Etig.  It  is  a  messenger  from  the  princi- 
pal inhabitants  of  .ludea.  He  comes  breath- 
less and  tremltling,  amazement  in  his  face, 
and  dust  upon  his  head.  "  An  invasion  !" 
he  cries,  "  an  invasion !  The  Philistines 
have  poured  themselves  upon  our  frontiers  ! 
The  Philistines  are  overrunning  the  land  !"• 

Asp.  Upon  the  receipt  of  this  news, 
see  what  vexation  reddens  in  the  disap- 
pointed monarch's  aspect  !  What  anger 
lightens  in  his  eye !  At  the  same  time, 
what  pale  reflections  on  his  country's  dan- 
ger mingle  themselves  with  the  fiery  pas- 
sions, and  almost  quench  the  flame  enkind- 
ling in  his  cheeks.  Shall  the  vulture  re- 
linquish his  prey,  even  when  it  lies  fluttering 
under  his  talons  ?  Galling  thought !  But 
his  kingdom  is  at  stake.  If  he  does  not 
immediately  advance  to  repel  the  enemy, 
his  all,  his  all  is  lost.  Burning  therefore 
with  indignation,  yet  chilled  with  fear,  he 
turns,  hasty  though  reluctant,  away.  Are 
you  not  charmed,  Eugenio,  with  this  de- 
scription of  tumultuous  and  contrary  pas- 
sions, Avhich  afl^ord  the  finest  subject  for 
historic  painting,  and  are  so  happily  ex- 
pressed in  this  piece  ? 

Eug.  Indeed,  Sir,  I  am  shocked,  rather 
than  charmed.  The  very  looks  of  that  re- 
vengefid  monarch  fill  me  wth  hon-or. 
What  must  he  sufltr  in  his  mind,  who  dis- 
covers such  rage  and  anguish  in  his  features  ! 
I  would  not  have  his  furious  temper,  for 
all  his  royal  power. 

Asp.  Then,  my  dear  Eugenio,  you  must 
endeavour   to    suppress    every  emotion    of 


the  words,  and  a  different  turn  to  the  sense  !  And 
another  translation  the  words  will  bear;  a  different 
sense  the  connexion  demands;  "Wherefore  should 
1  fear,  when  wickedness  compasseth  me  about  at  my 
heels?"  This  is  a  fine  spirited  interrogation.  This 
implies  a  great  and  edifying  truth,  p'rom  this  .ilso 
the  verse  appears,  not  onl^  with  propriety,  but  with 
beauty.  When  wickedness,  or  the  m,alicious  attempts 
of  wicked  men — compass  me  about,  surround  me, 
threaten  me  on  every  side — nay,  when  they  are  atmy 
very  heels,  just  upon  the  point  to  seize,  overwhehn 
and  crush  me,  so  that  the  danger  seems  both  inevitable 
and  imminent:  yet  even  then,  having  God's  almighty 
power  and  inviolable  faithfulness  for  my  protection, 
wherefore  should  I  be  alarmed?  alarmed!  No;  con- 
fiding in  such  a  safeguard,  1  will  bid  defiance  to  my 
enemies  and  bid  adieu  to  my  fears. 

*  This  event  is  related  I  .Sani.  xxiii.  2.1,  &c.  And 
it  is  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  instances  of  a  di- 
vine interjiosal,  at  the  \exy  crisis  of  need,  that  any 
history  has  recorded. 


a08 


THERON  AND  A&PASIO. 


envy  and  malevolence.  You  must  clierish 
a  cordial  good-will  to  all  men  ;  and  learn  to 
rejoice  in  their  excellencies  and  happiness, 
as  well  as  in  your  o\\'n.  Envy  is  the  worm 
that  gnaws,  en\'y  is  the  fury  that  embroils 
his  wretched  heart.  And  an  author,  with 
whom  you  will  ere  long  be  acquainted,  has 
assured  us, 

Invidia  Siculi  non  invenere  tyranni 

Tonnentum  majus. — Hob. 

The  next  is  a  kind  of  night-piece.  Stars 
are  in  the  sky,  and  the  new  moon  rides  on 
the  skirts  of  the  hemisphere ;  which  affords 
just  light  enough  to  distinguish  objects. 
This  is  a  perfect  contrast  to  the  foregoing : 
We  see  no  conflict  of  jarring  passions  ;  but 
the  principal  person  appears  sedate  and 
composed,  as  the  night  that  surrounds  him. 
He  stands  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  thought- 
fid  and  attentive,  as  though  be  was  ponder- 
ing or  executing  some  important  project. 

Euy.  This  is  Cyrus  the  Great.  He 
stands  upon  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates, 
not  far  from  Babylon.  He  points  mth  his 
sceptre,  and  is  giving  directions  to  his  army. 
The  directions  are,  to  pass  through  the 
channel  of  the  river  (which  is  drained  of  its 
water)  in  order  to  surprise  the  city. 

Asjj.  This  is  a  prince  of  very  superior 
dignity,  the  honoured  instrument  of  execut- 
ing Jehovah's  counsels.  He  v/as  foretold 
by  the  prophet  Isaiah,  and  even  mentioned 
by  name,  more  than  two  hundred  years  be- 
fore his  birth.  (Isaiah  xliv.  28;  xlv.  1.) 
Let  us  wish  him  prosperity  ;  for  he  goes  to 
humble  the  pride  of  Babylon,  and  release 
the  captivity  of  Israel.  See  with  what  re- 
gular movements  and  what  calm  alacrity 
his  troops  advance  !  Silence  seems  to  es- 
cort them,  while,  under  covert  of  the  shades, 
and  with  Providence  at  their  head,  they 
march  along  a  road  never  before  trodden 
by  the  foot  of  man.  I'he  soldiers  of  the 
garrison  have  abandoned  their  station  on 
the  wall,  to  join  in  the  dissolute  indulgence 
x)f  this  fatal  night.  Tlie  inhabitants,  like 
many  a  heedless  sinner,  are  lulled  in  indo- 
lence, and  dreaming  of  pleasiu^es,  even  on 
the  very  brink  of  ruin. 

Eug.  Why  are  those  brazen  gates  which 
lead  to  the  river,  placed  in  such  a  distin- 
giushed  point  of  view  ?  They  strike  my  eye 
more,  I  think,  than  all  the  monuments  of 
art  and  grandeur,  which  adom  that  superb 
city.  And  let  me  farther  ask,  whether  the 
painter  has  not  offended  against  probability, 
in  suffering  them  to  stand  wide  open  ?  On 
approach  of  so  formidable  an  adversary,  I 
should  expect  to  have  foimd  them  shut  with 
all  possible  security. 

Asp.  In  this  particular,  the  painter  has 
showed  his  judgment,  and  not  forgotten  his 
piety.  God  had  devoted  that  haughty  and 
oppressive  metropolis  to  destruction.  And 
you  will  perceive,  from  this  circumstance, 


how  wonderfully  he  overrules  all  events 
for  the  accomplishment  of  his  sacred  pur- 
pose. Had  those  ponderous  gates  been 
shut,  *  the  city  had  continued  impregnable, 
and  the  whole  enterprise  been  defeated. 
But,  through  some  accidental  forgetfulness, 
occasioned  by  the  disorders  of  this  riotous 
solemnity,  or  rather  by  a  very  signal  inter- 
position of  divine  vengeance,  they  are  left 
open,  and  afford  an  easy  entrance  to  slaugh- 
ter and  death,  which  msh  upon  the  unhappy 
creatures  all  sunk  in  sleep,  or  overcharged 
with  wine,  as  a  concealed  snare  in  some 
dreadful  unexpected  moment  springs  up, 
and  inextricably  entangles  the  unwary  bird. 
Was  I  to  inscribe  this  picture  with  a  motto, 
I  would  choose  the  apostle's  admonition, 
"  be  sober  ;  be  vigilant." 

Who  is  this,  with  his  length  of  hairf 
flowing  upon  his  shoulders,  mth  such  ampli- 
tude of  personage,  such  magnificence  of 
mein,  and  noble  plainness  of  habit? 

Eug.  This  is  my  favourite  piece.  My 
father  sometimes  shows  me  the  heads  of 
the  philosophers  ;  but  there  is  something 
so  uninviting  and  severe  in  Socrates  and 
Diogenes,  that  I  could  never  much  admire 
them.  But  this.  Sir,  is  Scipio  ;  the  thun- 
derbolt of  war,  as  Virgil  calls  liim.  Here 
is  something  so  lovely  and  engaging,  as 
well  as  grand  and  majestic,  that  I  am  never 
weary  of  looking  on  him. 

Asp.  He  appears  Mdtli  a  lady  of  distin- 
guished beauty  in  his  hand. 

Eug.  Tliis  is  the  captive  princess,  who 
had  been  taken  in  war,  who  was  set  apart 
for  the  General's  prize,  but  whom  he  is 
now  restoring  to  her  espoused  husband. 

Asp.  You  are  right,  Eugenio.  He  has 
just  led  in  his  lovely  captive,  attended  by 
her  husband  and  parents,  amidst  a  fuU  as- 
sembly of  Romans  and  Celtiberians,  the 
victors  and  the  vanquished.  His  modest 
eyes,  you  observe,  are  rather  turned  from, 
than  gazing  upon  the  blooming  virgin. 
Cannot  you  suppose,  how  the  spectators 
must  be  affected,  upon  the  opening  of  this 
extraordinary  scene?  Every  one  beholds 
the  hero  with  admiration,  the  lady  with  de- 
light.   Every  bosom  is  big  with  expectation 


»  See  this  very  momentous,  thoueh  seemingly  in- 
considerable circumstance,  finely  illustrated  by  Mr. 
Rollin,  and  compared  with  a  remarkable  prophecy  in 
Isaiah,  Ancient  Hist.  vol.  ii.  p.  144,  &c.  A  work,  in 
which  the  most  entertaining  and  instructive  events  of 
antiquity  are  regularly  digested,  elegantly  related,  and 
stripped  of  those  minuter  incidents,  which  make  the 
story  move  slow,  and  are  apt  to  fatigue  the  attention. 

t  I  believe  it  was  not  customary  with  the  RomanSj 
especially  their  warriors,  to  have  long  flowing  hair. 
Tills,  therefore,  might  seem  an  offence  against  what 
the  Italians  call  ilcoaiume,  if  the  painter  was  not  sup- 
ported by  the  authority  of  Livy ;  who,  in  his  descrip- 
tive picture  of  Scipio,  gives  us  the  following  touches : 
'  Species  corporis  ampla  ac  magnifica.  Pr,Tterquam 
quod  suapte  natura  nmlta  majestas  inerat,  adornabat 
promissa  Ca?saries,  habitusque  corporis,  non  cultus 
munditiis,  sed  virilis  vere  ac  militaris.— Lib.  xxviii. 


DIALOGUE  VI. 


209 


or  in  pain  tor  the  event.  After  a  short 
pause,  he  addresses  himself  to  the  lover,  in 
words  to  this  effect :  "  I  am  no  stranger  to 
your  interest  in  this  fine  woman  :  The  for- 
tune of  war  has  put  her  entirely  into  my 
power.  The  circamstance  of  my  youth 
cannot  render  me  insensihle  to  so  engaging  a 
person  :  But  with  us  Romans,  honour  and 
generosity  have  a  more  prevailing  influence 
than  transitory  gratifications.  Take  your 
biide  ;  be  happy  in  each  other  ;  and  when 
you  look  upon  this  gift,  admire  the  Ro- 
mans, be  a  friend  to  Rome."  Upon  this 
he  delivers  her  (as  you  behold  the  action 
here  represented)  to  the  enamoured  prince. 
— See  how  the  crowds,  that  cluster  and 
hang  around,  are  stnick  with  the  beneficent 
deed !  In  the  Oeltiberians,  we  behold  a 
mixture  of  veneration  and  surprise.  Their 
looks  are  full  of  meaning.  Methinks  they 
are  going  to  cry  out,  "  excellent  man  !"  In 
the  Romans,  we  discern  a  conscious  supe- 
riority, and  exultation  of  mind.  Triumph  is 
in  their  features,  as  though  they  would  say, 
"  this  wondrous  man  is  ours."  In  the  lady, 
we  admire  the  accomplished  and  modest 
fair,  uniting  all  the  dignity  of  her  birth  with 
all  the  delicacy  of  her  sex.  What  soft 
confusion  and  what  tender  joy  appear  in  her 
countenance  !  She  is  lost  in  wonder,  and  at 
a  loss  for  words  :  she  speaks  the  acknow- 
ledgments of  her  heart  by  the  silent  elo- 
quence of  a  te!U-,  which  steals  down  her 
glowing  cheek  to  bedew  the  kind  hand  that 
has  protected  her  innocence,  and  is  deliver- 
ing her  to  her  lord.  Her  lord  is  under 
an  apparent  and  a  graceful  sti'uggle  of  love 
and  gratitude  ;  He  doats  upon  his  charming 
princess,  and  he  almost  adores  his  generous 
benefactor.  We  can  hardly  tell  whether 
lie  is  going  to  clasp  the  former  in  his  aims, 
or  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  latter. 
The  aged  parents  express  their  transport  in 
a  different  manner.  Their  knees  are  bent 
to  the  earth  ;  their  eyes  <ue  lifted  uj)  to 
heaven  ;  they  implore  for  their  noble  guard- 
ian, every  blessing  that  the  gods  can  be- 
stow. Scipio  himself  disj)lays  all  the  mag- 
nanimity of  the  contpieror,  tempered  with 
the  sedateness  of  the  jihilosopher,  and  soft- 
ened with  the  gentleness  of  the  friend.  He 
gives  liappiness  ;  but  lie  enjoys  a  greater. 
His  eyes  sparkle  with  a  sublime  delight ; 
and  he  seems  to  anti<'ipate  the  applause, 
which  this  tndy  heroic  act  will  gain  in  all 
countries  and  in  all  ages. 

Emj.  Is  not  this  a  greater  victoi'y  than  any 
that  he  had  won  in  the  field  of  battle ;  and 
a  nobler  triumph  than  any  that  could  be 
voted  him  by  the  applauding  senate  !  Ami- 
able Scipio!  Wight  I  be  a  Roman,  I  would 
be  no  other  than  Scipio. 

Asp.  I  wish  you,  my  dear  Sir,  the  tem-- 
|)erance  and  generosity  of  Scipio ;  but 
from  a  better  mcitJNc  tiian  his.      lie,  I  fear. 


was  too  much  swayed  by  a  spirit  of  am- 
bition,which  you  must  endeavour  to  suppress 
rather  than  cherish.  A  spirit  of  ambition 
vi'hich  pants  after  distinction,  and  thirsts  for 
applause,  is  diametrically  opposite  to  the 
genius  of  the  gospel,  (Gal.  v.  26.)  It  is  a 
lesson  which  must  infallibly  be  unlearned, 
if  ever  we  become  possessors  of  faith,  oi 
partakers  of  Christ,  (John  v.  44.)  It  is  "  n 
root  of  bitterness,"  which  naturally  produces 
envy,  (Gal.  v.  26.)  that  most  odious,  and 
(as  you  have  just  now  seen)  most  self-tor- 
menting of  all  tempers.  It  is  a  habit  of 
mind,  which  generally  renders  men  incen- 
diaries in  the  church,  and  disturbers  of  its 
tranquillity,  (3  John  9,  10.)  It  is,  there- 
fore, more  like  an  inchanted  potion  which 
inebriates,  than  a  genuine  cordial  which 
animates. 

Eug.  From  what  motive  then  would  you 
encourage  me  to  be  diligent  in  the  pursuit 
of  learning,  and  in  the  cidtivation  of  every 
virtue  ? 

Asp.  Not,  that  you  may  acquire  the  poor, 
contemptible,  perishing  honour,  which 
Cometh  from  men ; — but  that  you  may  please 
God,  your  Almighty  Creator  ;  that  you  may 
glorify  Christ,  your  infinitely  condescending 
Redeemer ;  that  you  may  yourself  attain 
what  is  the  true  digiuty  and  only  felicity  of 
your  nature  ;  and  may  be  serviceable  to  the 
best  interests  of  your  fellow-creatures — even 
their  present  holiness  and  their  eternal  hap- 
piness. 

These  are  the  grand  and  endearing  en- 
couragements which  our  holy  religion  pur- 
poses. These  will  operate,  I  am  bold  to 
aver,  with  a  much  sweeter  and  a  far  more  so- 
vereign efficacy,  than  all  the  glittenng  en- 
ticements which  ambition  can  devise  :  and, 
what  is  above  all  other  considerations 
weighty,  these  will  be  more  likely,  or  rather 
these  will  be  very  certain,  to  receive  the 
divine  blessing. 

You  told  me  you  was  never  weary  of 
contemplating  Scipio.  For  which  reason  I 
promise  myself,  you  will  not  be  fatigued  or 
displeased  though  I  have  so  long  confined 
yoiu:  attention  to  this  portrait.  But  have 
we  no  hero  of  Britain,  fit  to  join  tliis  illus- 
trious triumvirate  from  Rome,  Persia,  and 
Judea  ? 

Euff.  The  very  next  we  meet  is  one  of 
our  English  kings.  But  I  cannot  say  that 
I  remember  either  his  name  or  his  story. 

Asp.  How,  my  young  gentleman !  Do  you 
read  the  annals  of  other  nations,  and  not  ac- 
quaint yourself  with  the  affairs  of  your  own 
country  ?  If  I  was  in  your  place,  I  vvoidd 
apply  myself  to  the  classical  writers  by  way 
of  study,  and  to  some  valuable  English  histo- 
rian by  way  of  amusement.  Such  an  amuse- 
ment is  infinitely  preferable  to  novels  or 
romances,  and  will  not  oidy  relax  your  at- 
tention, but  enrich  yoiu'  ruind. 


210 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Eitg.  I  thank  you,  good  Sir,  for  your  ad- 
monition, and,  if  you  please,  I  will  now  be- 
gin the  study  you  recommend.  Your  ex- 
planation of  these  drawings  shall  be  the  ru- 
diments of  my  knowledge,  and  I  shall  think 
it  a  happiness  to  receive  my  first  instruc- 
tions from  so  able  a  master. 

Asp.  It  is  honour  enough  for  me,  Eugenio, 
to  have  given  you  the  hint.  I  only  point  out 
your  game,  or  spring  the  covey  ;  you  shall  be 
taught  by  a  more  expert  proficient,  to  make 
it  your  own.  Yet,  though  others  may  di- 
rect you  with  greater  skill,  none  will  rejoice 
in  your  successful  pursuit,  more  sincerely 
than  myself. 

This  is  our  renowned  Henry  the  Fifth,  as 
he  appeared  after  the  victory  of  Agincourt. 
You  see  the  gallant  conqueror  clad  in  steel, 
and  recent  from  the  slaughter  of  the  insult- 
ing foe.  He  seems  to  breathe  an  heroic 
ardour,  which  is  irradiated  and  exalted  by  a 
lively  devotion.  If  courage  can  be  expressed 
by  the  pencil,  this  is  its  genuine  likeness  ; 
keen,  yet  composed ;  grasping  the  sword, 
yet  looking  up  to  heaven.  He  that  a  little 
while  ago  drove  the  battle,  like  a  whirlwind, 
on  the  legions  of  France,  now  bends  a  sup- 
pliant knee,  and  offers  the  eucharistic  hymn 
to  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts.  No  turbulent 
or  disorderly  joy  riots  among  the  soldiery. 
They  express  not  the  triumph  of  their  hearts 
in  frantic  exultations  or  drunken  revels,  but 
in  acts  of  thanksgiving  to  Jehovah  :  in  an 
attitude  which  speaks  the  devout  ac- 
Knovvledgment  of  the  prophet,  "  Thou  art 
our  battle-axe  and  weapons  of  war,"  (Jer. 
li.  20.)  or  the  grateful  declaration  of  the 
Psalmist,  "  Not  unto  us,  O  Lord,  not  unto 
us,  but  unto  thy  name  be  the  glory,"  (Psal. 
cxv.  1.) 

This  last  instance  informs  my  Eugenio, 
that  prayer  is  an  honourable  employ ;  has 
been  practised  by  persons  of  the  most  ad-- 
mired  endowments  ;  is  the  surest  method 
of  obtaining  success  in  whatever  business 
we  undertake,  and  of  enjoying  prosperity, 
in  whatever  circumstances  we  are  placed. 

The  next  piece  is  different  from  all  the 
preceding.  In  those,  armies  with  their 
banners  displayed,  ships  of  war  riding  at  an- 
chor, battering  engines,  and  instruments  of 
death,  form  the  perspective.  In  this,  we 
have  all  around,  a  lovely  and  rural  landscape, 
expressive  of  peace,  and  enriched  with 
plenty.  Corn  and  cattle  in  the  valleys,  fruit- 
ful vineyards  on  the  hills,  and  beautiful  gar- 
dens surrounding  the  houses.  But  who  is 
that  graceful  and  august  personage,  seated 
on  a  stately  throne  of  ivory  and  gold  ? 

Eiu).  This  is  Solomon,  having  an  inter- 
view with  the  Queen  of  Sheba.  A  large 
tr.'iin  of  her  attendants  throng  the  avenues 
of  the  palace ;  some  leading  foreign  ani- 
mals ;  some  bearing  vases  and  caskets ;  all 
arrayed  in  strange  apjjarel.      The   Israelites 


stare  upon  their  outlandish  visitants,  their 
costly  presents,  and  peculiar  habits.  Their 
\isitants  are  as  much  surprised  at  the  walls, 
the  towers,  and  especially  the  temple  of  Je- 
rusalem. But  you,  Sii',  I  apprehend,  are 
most  pleased  with  the  venerable  person  who 
fills  the  throne. 

Asp.  Indeed  lam  ;  and  so  his  royal  guest. 
You  observe  in  her  robe,  her  retinue,  her 
deportment,  an  unpolished  kind  of  grandeur. 
But  aU  in  Solomon  is  so  splendid,  and  at 
the  same  time  so  elegant ;  displays  such  a 
delicacy  of  taste  and  such  a  magnificence  of 
spirit,  that  the  Sabean  princess  is  perfectly 
in  raptures.  See  how  she  stands  fixed  and 
gazing  with  speechless  admiration,*  like  one 
lost  in  astonishment  and  transported  with 
delight !  Her  looks  speak  what,  when  she 
recovers  the  power  of  utterance,  her  tongue 
expresses :  "  It  was  a  tnie  report,  that  I 
heard  in  my  own  land,  of  thy  acts,  and  of 
thy  %visdom.  Howbeit,  I  believed  not  the 
words,  until  I  came,  and  mine  eyes  had  seen, 
and  behold,  the  half  was  not  told  me  ;  thy 
wisdom  and  prosperity  exceed  the  fame 
which  I  heard." 

Eug.  This  is  a  great  compliment.  Is  it 
right.  Sir,  to  praise  a  man  in  such  plain 
terms,  and  such  high  strains,  to  his  veiy 
face  ?  I  think  I  have  heard  Philenor  blame 
such  a  practice,  as  inconsistent  with  refined 
manners ;  and  I  have  heard  my  father  say, 
no  one  is  a  better  judge  of  fine  breeding 
than  Philenor.  And  if  the  most  agreeable 
behaviour,  added  to  the  most  winning  con- 
versation, are  what  you  call  fine  breeding, 
I  am  sure  Philenor  is  master  of  it  to  a  very 
great  degree.  I  love  to  be  in  his  company, 
and  am  never  better  pleased  than  to  hear 
him  talk. 

Asp.  The  compliment  is  high,  but  it  is 
just.  It  is  strictly  conformable  to  truth, 
and  proceeds  from  the  most  unaffected  sin- 
cerity. If  we  take  what  follows  into  con- 
sideration, we  shall  have  a  pattern  of  true 
politeness  ;  a  propriety,  and  a  refinement  of 
address,  far  surpassing  her  Majesty's  ex- 
ternal state ;  "  Happy  are  thy  men  ;  happy 
are  these  thy  servants,  which  stand  con- 
tinually before  thee,  and  that  hear  thy  wis- 
dom." Instead  of  envying,  she  congratulates 
the  domestics  of  Solomon,  and  rejoices  in 
their  superior  felicity.  This  is  benevolence. 
"  Blessed  be  the  Lord  thy  God,  which  de- 
lighted in  thee,  to  set  thee  on  the  throne  of 
Israel.  Because  the  Lord  loved  Israel  for 
ever,  therefore  made  he  thee  king,  to  do 
judgment  and  justice." — Here  she  ascribes 
all  his  royal  virtues,  and  matchless  accom- 
plishments, to  the  bounty  of  heaven.  Though 
they  are  applauded  in  the  person  of  Solomon, 


*  This,  I  apprehend,  is  themeaningof  that  remark- 
able strong  expression  used  by  the  sacred  historian  ; 
"  There  was  no  more  spirit  in  her,"  1  Kings  x.  5. 


DIALOGUE  VI. 


211 


they  are  recognised  as  the  free  gift  of  God. 
This  is  piety.  When  the  endowments  we 
celebrate  lead  xis  to  magnify,  not  their  pos- 
sessor, but  their  author,  then  the  poison  is 
corrected,  and  turned  into  medicine.  Praise 
thus  circumstanced  loses  its  malignity,  and 
is  rendered  salubrious. 

It  pleases  me  to  perceive  that  you  take 
so  much  notice  of  the  conversation  wliich 
jjasses  between  your  worthy  father  and  his 
ingenious  friends.  I  promise  myself,  you 
will  also  remember  the  maxim,  which  we 
have  now  learned  from  a  queen — a  queen, 
whom  not  only  the  sacred  historian,  but  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  himself  vouchsafes  to 
mention,  and  with  marks  of  approbation  ; 
wliose  name  therefore  will  be  had  in  ho- 
nour, when  Semiramis  and  Cleopatra,  the 
heroines  and  the  beauties,  are  consigned  over 
to  oblivion.  The  maxim  which  I  mean  is 
this  :  There  must  be  an  union  of  sincerity, 
of  benevolence,  and  of  piety,  in  order  to  con- 
stitute true  politeness.  AVhoever  pretends 
to  tine  breeding,  and  is  destitute  of  these 
qualities,  is  nothing  more  than  a  pretender. 
He  bears  just  the  same  proportion  to  this 
ornamental  character,  as  the  ape  and  the 
monkey  bear  to  the  man. 

But  we  have  not  sufficiently  examined 
our  picture.  The  dome  is  of  cedar,  sup- 
ported by  pillars  of  marble,  to  which  arc 
annexed  curtains  of  silk  and  embroidery. 
The  pillars  shine  with  the  most  glossy  po- 
lisli,  and  swell  upon  the  eye  with  the  boldest 
projections.  The  curtains,  pendent  in  large 
and  easy  folds,  seem  not  adhesive  to  the 
canvass,  but  waving  in  the  air.  The  throne 
is  exquisitely  contrived,  ricldy  ornamented, 
and  highly  finished.  It  is  evident  the  pain- 
ter had  in  his  eye  that  remarkable  observa- 
tion of  Scripture,  "  There  was  not  the  like 
made  in  any  kingdom  ;"  and  he  has  really 
done  all  whch  art  could  devise,  or  colours 
execute,  in  order  to  exemplify  the  great  en- 
comium. 

If  the  monarch  was  absent,  we  should 
desire  no  butter  entertainment  than  to  view 
the  beauties  of  the  apartment ;  but  can  hard- 
ly allow  any  attention  to  the  edifice,  when 
so  graceful  and  so  grand  a  j)resence  bespeaks 
our  regard.  For  I  must  own  there  appears 
to  me  something  pecidiarly  excellent  in  this 
figiu'e  ;  a  serenity  and  dignity,  without  any 
of  that  martial  air  which  adds  a  tincture  of 
ferocity  to  the  warrior  ;  a  sagacity  and  pe- 
netration not  to  be  equalled  by  the  wrinkles 
of  age,  yet  transparent  throuj;!)  all  the  bloon) 
of  youth.  Piety  and  wisdom,  the  love  of 
God  and  the  grace  of  his  Spirit,  give  an 
elevation  to  the  mind,  a  sacred  charm  to  the 
countenance,  and  something  more  tlian  mor- 
tal to  the  whole  man.  I  am  apt  to  sus 
pect,  Eugenio,  that  you  yourself  are  ready 


rather  be  like  the  "  beloved  of  the  Lord," 
than  the  darling  of  Rome. 

Eutj.  Every  thing  in  Solomon  is  so  ve- 
nerable and  heavenly,  that  I  am  filled  with 
awe,  rather  than  fired  with  emulation.  It 
is  not  for  a  boy  to  think  of  imitating  such 
high  perfection  ! 

Asp.  Why  not,  my  dear  Sir  ?  It  was  God 
who  gave  Solomon  his  su])erior  wisdom 
and  exalted  accomplishments.  And  God 
is  "  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for 
ever ;"  as  willing  to  hear,  and  as  able  to 
help  you,  as  he  was  to  hear  and  bless  his 
servant  Solomon.  Neither  let  your  youth 
be  a  discouragement.  "  Out  of  the  mouth 
of  very  babes  and  sucklings,  he  ordaineth 
strength,  and  perfects  praise.  (Psalm  viii. 
2.)  Samuel  ministered  in  the  temple  when 
he  was  but  a  child.  (1  Sam.  ii.  18.)  Jo- 
siah,  while  he  was  yet  young,  began  to  seek 
after  the  God  of  his  fathers.  (2  Chron. 
xxxiv.  3.)  Timothy  was  acquainted  with 
the  holy  scriptures  from  his  earliest  years. 
(2  Tim.  iii.  15.)  And  Solomon  himself 
was  none  of  the  oldest,  when  he  was  fa- 
voured with  that  extraordinary  vision,  and 
made  that  admirable  choice,  at  Gibeon.  (1 
Kings  iii.  5,  6,  &c. )  a  passage  of  scriptrtre, 
whicii  I  dare  say  you  have  read,  which  I 
woidd  recommend  to  yom-  attentive  consid- 
eration, and  which  I  hope  you  will  take  for 
the  model  of  your  conduct.  And  if  you, 
like  that  illustrious  yoimg  prince,  desire  a 
wise  and  understanding  heart,  more  than 
the  affluence  of  wealth,  or  the  distinctions 
of  honour ;  "  if  you  seek  wisdom  as  silver, 
and  search  for  her  as  for  hid  treasure  ; 
then  shall  you  also  understand  the  fear  of  the 
Lord,  and  find  the  knowledge  of  God." 
(Prov.  ii.  4,  5.) 

The  next  that  occin-s,  presents  us  with  a 
view  of  the  sea ;  and  a  most  tremendous 
view  it  is. 

Eur/.  This  is  the  voyage  related  by  the 
evangelist,  when  our  Lord  sailed  with  his 
disciples,  and  bid  the  storm  be  still,  and 
made  the  ocean  calm. 

Asp.  Then  we  may  truly  say,  "  a  greater 
than  Solomon  is  here !"  Give  me  leave  to 
hint,  upon  this  occasion,  that  every  picture 
of  Christ  must  necessarily  depreciate  his 
glorious  person.  Therefore  you  will  never 
think,  that  a  few  rays  beaming  roimd  Iris 
sacred  head,  can  propeiiy  distinguish  the 
Son  of  God,  or  express  the  grace  of  his 
offices,  and  the  divinity  of  his  nature.  It 
is  not  to  display  the  perfections  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  himself,  but  oidy  to  give  us  an  idea  of 
one  of  his  works,  that  the  pencil  has  been 
em|)loyed  on  this  grand  subject. 

You  will  also  remember,  tliat  it  was  not 
the  main  ocean,  but  the  lake  of  Tiberias, 
oir    which    they    sailed.       However,     the 


to  adopt  a   new   favourite  ;  that  you  now  |  painter  is  at  liberty  to  make  his  sea  as  large 
prefer    Solomon    even  to  Sfipio  ;  and   had  |  as  he  pleases,  and  his   storm   as   terrible  lus 


•21: 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


he  ran.  Accordingly  he  has  collected  all 
the  horrors  of  a  tempest.  Lightnings  lire 
the  arch  above  ;  and  thunders,  could  thun- 
ders have  been  painted,  would  have  rocked 
the  ground  below.  Those  tiaming  bolts  have 
smitten  a  huge  promontory,  and  tore  its 
rugged  brow.  See  how  the  rocky  fragment 
is  tumbling,  with  impetuous  bound  from 
cliff  to  cliff!  The  waters,  lashed  by  furious 
winds,  heave  and  toss  their  tumultuous 
billows  :  Here  they  rise  in  rolling  ridges, 
there  they  rage  in  devouring  whirls.  Amidst 
these  horrible  commotions,  you  behold  a 
vessel  in  all  the  extremity  of  distress : 
Straining  under  the  blast,  battered  and  half 
overwhelmed  by  the  surge,  she  can  no  long- 
er maintain  the  unequal  conflict ;  she  yields 
to  the  resistless  flood  ;  and  begins,  evident- 
ly begins  to  sink.  Perplexed,  amazed,  and 
at  their  wit's  end,  the  disciples  run  to  and 
fro.  They  shift  the  tackling,  lighten  the 
stowage,  try  every  expedient ;  and  find,  to 
their  inexpressible  affliction,  every  expedi- 
ent ineffectual. 

We  cast  our  eye  forward,  and  their  di- 
vine Master  appears,  sedately  rising  from  a 
gentle  slumber.  He  sees  the  perplexity 
and  horror  of  his  companions,  without  the 
least  emotion  of  alarm.  He  sees  destruc- 
tion approaching,  heaven  and  earth  mingling; 
and  instead  of  being  dismayed,  enjoys  the 
elemental  war.  What  composure  in  his 
mien  !  what  dignity  in  his  attitude  !  what 
majesty,  sweetened  with  compassion,  in 
his  aspect !  such  as  could  arise  from  no 
other  cause,  but  a  conscious  and  undoubted 
certainty  that  not  one  of  the  company 
should  perish,  not  a  hair  of  their  head  be 
injured  ;  and  that  all  this  mighty  uproar  of 
nature  should  end  in  a  demonstration  of  his 
mightier  power,  and  a  confirmation  of  his 
disciples'  faith.  He  looks  abroad  into  the 
mutinous  sky,  and  the  turbulent  deep  :  He 
waves,  with  an  authoritative  air,  his  sacred 
hand  ;  and  adds  the  gi-eat  commanding 
word,  "  Peace  !  be  stUl. "  Do  you  inquire 
after  the  effect  ?  Let  Milton  declare  it : 

Confusion  heard  his  voice,  and  wild  uproar 
Stood  ruled. 

This  is  expressed  in  another  draught. 
Where  all  is  hushed,  the  tremendous  agi- 
tations cease,  and  the  most  profound  tran- 
quillity takes  place.  The  water  is  smooth 
as  glass  ;  we  have  the  picture  of  a  per- 
fect calm,  and  view  those  very  persons, 
who  a  little  while  ago,  were  in  the  wildest 
distraction,  and  in  the  jaws  of  ruin,  sur- 
rounding their  Lord  as  men  alive  from  the 
dead.  Their  consternation  is  turned  into 
wonder  ;  and  their  pangs  of  fear  into  ecs- 
tasies of  joy.  They  acknowledge  the  om- 
nipotence, and  adore  the  goodnes.s  of  Jesus. 
£!ug.  Well  may  they  acknowledge  his 
omnipotence,  .since  winds  and  waves  obey 
him.      Great  reason  have  they  to  adore  his 


goodness,  since  he  rescued  them  from  the 
very  jaws  of  death — that  worst  of  deaths, 
perishing  in  the  stormy  deep. 

Asp.  If  Jesus  Christ  had  vouchsafed 
such  a  deliverance  to  my  Eugenic,  wliat 
would  he  have  thought,  or  how  would  he 
have  been  affected  ? 

Eiiy.  I  should  have  thought  myself  inex- 
pressibly obliged,  and  that  I  could  never 
show  suflicient  gratitude  to  so  great  a  bene- 
factor. 

Asp.  Assure  yourself,  then,  my  dear  Sir, 
that  he  has  done  infinitely  more  for  you  : 
That  he  has  delivered  you,  not  indeed  from 
being  swallowed  up  by  the  raging  billows, 
but  from  sinking  into  the  pit  of  everlasting 
perdition  :  That  he  has  not  only  rescued 
you  from  endless  destruction,  but  obtained 
eternal  life  and  heavenly  happiness  for  you. 
— This  he  has  done,  not  by  speaking  a 
word,  or  issuing  a  command  ;  but  by  bear- 
ing your  guilt,  suffering  yoiu"  punishment, 
and  dying  the  death,  the  most  ignominious 
and  tormenting  death,  in  your  stead.  Should 
you  not  then  unfeignedly  love  him  ?  study 
to  please  him  ?  and  make  it  the  reigning 
endeavour  of  your  life  to  glorify  him  ? 

Here  Theron  returned,  and  the  young 
student  withdrew,  after  receiving  some  af- 
fectionate and  encouraging  compliments 
from  Aspasio,  who  was  going  to  enlarge 
upon  the  excellent  taste  of  his  friend,  the 
instructive  style  of  his  pictures,  the  good 
sense  and  great  proficiency  of  his  son  :  But 
Theron,  far  from  coveting  the  praise,  and 
fully  satisfied  with  the  consciousness  of 
acting  the  becoming  part,  prevented  his 
discourse  by  stepping  to  a  pair  of  glass  fold- 
ing doors,  which,  thrown  open,  admitted 
them  into  the  study. 

A  chimney-piece  of  grey  marble,  with 
plain,  but  bold  and  protuberant  mouldings, 
formed  a  very  handsome  appearance.  In 
various  little  niches  were  fixed  elegant 
busts  ;  and  on  the  several  interstices  hung 
beautiful  prints,  representing  many  of  the 
most  eminently  learned  men,  who  were  tlie 
ornaments  and  blessings  both  of  ancient  and 
modem  times.  The  shelves  all  around 
were  accommodated,  not  encumbered,  with 
books.  Aspasio,  running  over  the  lettered 
backs,  observed  a  collection  of  the  most 
valuable  authors  in  history  and  natiu-al  phi- 
losophy, in  poetry  and  divinity. 

You  m]\  easily  perceive,  said  Theron, 
that  I  am  somewhat  singular  in  furnishing 
my  study,  as  well  as  in  ornamenting  the 
avenue.  My  books  are  not  for  show,  but 
use  ;  and  claim  a  regard,  rather  on  account 
of  their  worth  than  their  number.  An  im- 
mense multitude  of  volumes,  I  have  always 
thought,  is  more  likely  to  embarrass  the  at- 
tention than  to  improve  the  understanding. 
A  huge  librajy  seems  to  resemble  a  per- 
plexing labyrinth  ;  :ind  often  bewilders  the 


PlALOCajE  VI. 


213 


sTlind,  instead  of  leading  it  expeditiously  to 
the  acquisition  of  truth. 

When  people  are  eager  to  peruse  a  mid- 
tiplicity  of  writings,  it  frequently  happens, 
that  in  reading  all  they  digest  none.  *  They 
taste  some  empty  and  transient  amusement, 
but  collect  no  solid  or  lasting  advantage. 
Their  minds  are  somewhat  like  those  capa- 
cious looking-glasses,  which  we  have  seen 
exposed  in  the  most  frequented  and  popu- 
lous streets  of  London.  They  receive  all 
manner  of  shadowy  images,  but  no  substan- 
tial impression.  A  thousand  figures  pass 
through  them,  not  one  abides  in  them. 

Our  books,  replied  Aspasio,  as  well  as 
our  friends,  should  rather  be  select  than 
numerous.  For  my  part,  I  would  desire 
no  more  than  two  or  three  of  the  most  cor- 
rect and  masterly  writers  in  any  science. 
These  a  person  of  moderate  ciipacity  may 
be  able  to  comprehend  ;  and  not  compre- 
hend oidy,  but  enrich  his  memory  with  the 
choicest  sentiments,  and  make  the  substance 


universiUly  iupplanted  by  the  fantasticftl 
and  childish  amusements  in  vogue.  Why 
should  not  the  contemplation  of  nature's 
surprising  novelties  be  as  acceptable  an 
entertainment  as  the  stale  diversion  of  quad- 
rille ?  be  as  refined  an  employ  for  a  leisure 
hoin-,  as  to  count  the  spots  on  a  pack  of 
cards  ?  The  ladies,  I  am  veiy  sure,  might 
find  brighter  colours  and  more  delicate  or- 
naments, in  the  robes  and  head-dress  of  a 
common  fly,  than  ever  they  found  amidst  the 
trinket*  of  a  toyshop.  And  was  the  fair 
circle  of  females  once  acquainted  with  the 
radiant  varnish  and  rich  studs  which  ena- 
mel the  cover  of  a  beetle's  wing,  I  am  apt 
to  think,  they  would  view  with  less  rapture, 
with  more  indifltrence,  perhaps  with  a  be- 
coming disdain,  all  the  pretty  fancies  of  a 
beau's  wardrobe. 

A  few  days  ago,  when  the  accomplished 
Manilla  favoured  us  with  a  visit,  I  showed 
her,  through  a  magnifying  glass,  the  sting  of 
a  bee,  the  scale  of  a  soal,  the  wing  of  a  gnat. 


of  their  works  his  own.  He  will,  by  re- j  and  some  other  beautiful  minims  of  nature, 
petition  and  familiar  converse,  enter  into  j  together  with  the  j)owder  which  adheres  to 
their  spirit,  jpnd  acquire  their  manner  ;  |  our  finger  when  we  touch  the  body  of  a 
while  a  rambler  in  reading  does  little  more ;  moth.      "  Amazing  !"  cried  the  young  lady; 


than  gratify  his  fancy,  without  refining  his 
taste,  or  amending  his  heart. 

Upon  this  Aspasio  turned  himself,  and 
espied,  in  one  corner  of  the  apartment  the 
celestial  and  terrestrial  globes ;  in  anothei', 
a  large  retlecting  telescope  ;  and  on  the  top 
of  a  bureau,  one  or  two  of  the  best  micros- 
copes. 

These  instruments,  resumed  Theron,  have 
opened  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  the  finest 
entertainments.]"  They  have  furnished  us 
with  new  eyes,  and  brought  up,  I  may  ven- 
ture to  say,  a  new  world  into  our  view.  They 
give  us  a  sight  of  wonders,  which  may  seem 
incredible  to  the  incm'ious  vulgar,  and  were 
utterly  unknown  to  the  most  inquisitive 
sages  of  antiquity.  They  charm  the  eye  with 
a  display  of  inimitable  beauties,  where  no- 
thing worthy  of  notice  was  expected.  They 
tlu-ow  the  mind  into  a  pleasing  transport 
of  admiration  ;  and  from  the  meanest,  low- 
est objects,  raise  the  most  amiable  and  exalted 
ideas  of  the  all-glorious  Creator. 

I  have  often  regretted,  that  such  rational 
and  manly  gratifications   slioidd  be   almost 


•  The  author  of  Night  Thoughts  has  touched  this 
sulyectwith  great  judgment,  and  equal  sprightliness. 
Voracious  learning,  often  over-fed. 
Digests  not  into  sense  the  nioatly  meal. 
This  forager  on  other's  wisdom  leaves 
Her  native  farm  her  reason  (|uite  untill'd. 
With  mixed  manure  she  surfeits  the  rank  soil, 
Dung'd,  but  not  dress'd  :  and  rich  to  beggary, 
t  (ientlcnien    of  taste  and  seriousness  cannot,    I 
think,  have  a  nobler  piece  of  furniture  for  their 
studies,  than  the  microscope  and  the  telescope,  the 
orrery  ar.d  the  air-jiump.     This  apparatus  would  af 
ford  them  a  most  deliglitful  and  miproving  amuse 
ment  in  a  solitary  hour;  it  would  also  •;ivc  lhcn\  an 
opportunity  of  entertaining  their  comp.iny  in  a  truly 
elegant  and  very  instructive  manner.    It  would  open 


What  elegant  figures  !  What  enchanting 
finery ! 

"  Suialle.st  lineaments  exact, 

In  all  Ihe  liveries  deck'd  of  summer's  pride, 
Witli  .spots  of  gold  and  purple,  azure  and  green." 
Milton,  h.  vii. 

"  How  perfect  the  polish,  and  how  high 
the  finisliing,  of  that  little  weapon  !  This 
piece  of  defensive  armour,  how  skilfully 
contrived,  and  how  curiously  wrought!  Here 
rising  into  little  ridges,  like  the  bosses  of  a 
buckler,  fitted  to  repel  injuries  :  there, 
scooped  into  little  cavities,  designed,  I  sup- 
pose to  diminish  its  weight ;  that  the  coat 
of  mail  may  not  encuinber,  even  while  it 
defends,  the  puny  wearer.  What  I  took 
to  be  a  whitish  despicable  rag,  is  the  neatest 
fan  1  ever  beheld,  mounted  on  sticks*  ini- 
mitably tapering  and  slender,  tinged  with  all 
the  soft  and  lovely  colours  of  the  most 
glossy  mother-of-pearl.  But  whatastonishes 
me  more  than  all,  is  the  view  of  that  co- 
loured dust,  which  your  instrument  has 
turned  into  a  cluster  of  feathers.  f]very 
one  wrought  off"  with  a  regidarity  and  a  de- 
licacy that  are  beyond  the  power  of  descri])- 
tion.  The  finest  stroke  drawn  by  the  Ita- 
lian pen,  compared  with  the  extreme  mi- 
nuteness of  the  shaft,  is  broad  and  bulky  as 
an  admiral's  mast.  A  speck  of  leaf  gold, 
could  it  be  weighed  against  the  exquisite  at- 
tenuations of  the  vane,  t  would  seem  more 
substantial  and  ponderous  than  yonder  mar- 
ble slab. 


*  These  sticUs  are  the  little  ribs,  wh.rh  suppoit, 
at  proper  intciv. lis,   tlie  fine  tianspHtf.it  mcnibianc 
a  fiiie  and  ample  field  for  displaying  the  glories  of  I  of  the  wing. 
God  the  Cicator,  and  of  God  the  KtdtLiner.  |      \  Vane  i.,  the  leathery  part  ot  .1  (jUi... 


214 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


"  How  nice,  even  to  a  prodigy,  must  be 
the  mechanism  of  the  animalcule  race  !  I 
see  globules,  I  see  tides  of  blood,  rolling 
through  meanders  inexpressibly  finer  than 
the  finest  hair. — Stranger  still !  I  see  whole 
shoals  of  active  creatures  expatiating  in  a 
single  drop  of  water ;"  taking  their  pastime 
amidst  such  a  scanty  canal,  as  unstraitened, 
and  as  much  at  large,  as  leviathan  in  the 
abysses  of  the  ocean.  A  whole  kingdom 
of  those  creatures,  though  collected  into  a 
body,  are  quite  imdiscernible  by  the  naked 
eye.  What  then  must  be  the  size  of  every 
individual  ?  Yet  in  every  individual  there 
is  a  complete  system  of  limbs  ;  each  endow- 
ed with  spontaneous  motion  ;  all  assembled, 
though  not  crowded,  in  a  living  atom.  To 
reflect  upon  the  textiu:e  of  vessels,  and  the 
operation  of  organs,  so  complex,  so  numer- 
ous, yet  so  inconceivably  minute ;  how  it 
awakens  admiration,  fills  me  with  reverence 
of  the  Almighty  Maker,  and  yields  a  pleasure 
infinitely  superior  to  all  the  modish  amuse- 
ments of  our  sex  !  Your  discoveries  of 
life  in  miniature  have  given  me  a  disgust  of 
what  is  called  high  life,  and  its  solemn  fop- 
peries. You  have  spoiled  me,  Theron,  for 
a  fashionable  trifler.  I  shall  no  longer  relish 
the  dull  economy  of  the  fan,  or  the  poor  pa- 
I'ade  of  the  snuff-box." 

Asp.  Have  you  nothing  to  say  of  the  te- 
lescope ? — I  believe  it  must  be  my  province 
to  celebrate  this  admirable  invention  ;  and 
I  wish  I  could  do  it,  with  ManUia's  brilliant 
imagination.  If  the  microscope  leads  us 
downward,  to  the  curious  secrets  of  the  ani- 
malcule creation,  the  telescope  bears  us 
upward,  to  the  grand  pecidiarities  of  the 
starry  regions.  The  eye,  conducted  by  this 
wonderful  guide,  visits  a  variety  of  majestic 
orbs,  which  would  othenvise  be  lost  in  un- 
measurable  tracts  of  ether.  This,  far  more 
surprising  than  the  discoveries  of  Columbus, 
has  found  out  new  colonies  of  worlds  in 
every  quarter  of  the  nocturnal  skies.  This 
has  j)laced  a  glittering  crescent  on  the  brow 
of  on.ef  of  the  planets ;  and  has  given  others 
a  most  stately  train  of  attendants. if 

Tell  nie,  Thcrcn,  could  you  discern 
the  full  choir  of  the  constellations,  or 
distinguish  the  variegated  face  of  the  moon, 


*  In  a  single  drop  of  water,  Dr.  Hook  is  said  to 
have  discovered,  with  his  microscope,  eight  millions 
two  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  animalcules.  This 
is  mentioned,  because  it  is  the  prevailing  philosophy 
of  the  age;  though  I  must  confess  that  M.  Gautier 
seems  to  have  gone  a  considerable  way  towards  giving 
it  another  turn  ;  as  he  has  proved,  before  a  learned 
assembly  at  Paris,  that  the  vermiculares  of  I.ewen- 
hoeit,  and  the  living  molecula;  of  M.  de  Buifon,  were 
only  balls  of  air  agitated  by  the  fermenting  of  the 
seed.  If  so,  it  isnot  impo.ssiblebut  Dr.  Hook's  ani- 
malcules may  be  nothing  more  than  balls  of  air,  agi- 
tated by  the  fermenting  of  the  pepper.  Be  this  as  it 
will,  the  young  ladys  remarks  on  the  wonde  s  of  me- 
chanism m  the  animalcule  creation,  I  believe,  will 
never  be  controverted. 

t  The  planet  Venus. 

t  The  satellites  of  Jupiterand  .Satum 


without  the  aid  of  our  telescopic  tube  ? 
Could  you,  v,dth  your  unassisted  e}'e,  get 
a  sight  of  Jupiter's  satellites,  or  j)rocin-e 
a  glimpse  of  Saturn's  ring?  Without  that 
supplementary  aid  to  oiu-  sight,  they  are 
quite  imperceptible ;  though  the  satellites 
of  the  former  are  incomparably  more  mag- 
nificent than  the  retinue  of  all  the  monarchs 
in  the  world  ;  and,  compared  %vith  the  ring 
of  the  latter,  all  the  bridges  on  ten  thousand 
rivers,  are  less  than  the  ferule  of  yotir  cane. 

As  the  telescope  to  the  eye,  so  is  revela- 
tion to  the  understanding.  It  discovers 
truths,  which,  exclusive  of  such  a  discovery, 
had  been  for  ever  hid  from  the  most  saga- 
cious minds.  It  is  strange  to  the  unlearn- 
ed observer,  that  this  ponderous  globe  of 
earth  and  seas  shoidd  wheel  its  rapid  circuit 
round  the  sun.  But  the  telescope  has  ren- 
dered this  fact  clear  to  a  demonstration. 
It  is  strange  likewise  to  oin-  natural  appre- 
hensions, that  we  should  die  in  Adam,  and 
be  undone  by  our  first  parent's  disobedience; 
nor  less  so,  that  we  should  be  made  alive  in 
Christ,  and  derive  our  recovery  from  his  im- 
puted righteousness.  But  revelation  makes 
this  doctrine  as  certain  as  it  is  comfortable. 

Ther.  Does  revelation  make  it  certain  ? 
— This  is  a  point  not  yet  established  but 
taken  for  granted.  I  rather  apprehend, 
that  revelation  in  no  place  maintains  it — in 
many  places  disavows  it.  Since  your  ab- 
sence, Aspasio,  I  have  spent  some  time  in 
searching  the  scriptiu-es,  with  a  particular 
view  to  this  tenet ;  and  I  can  find  no  such 
expression  in  the  whole  Bible  as  the  impu- 
tation of  Christ's  righteousness.  If  it  was 
so  leading  an  article  as  you  represent,  surely 
it  could  not  have  been  entirely  forgotten  by 
the  inspired  writers,  nor  utterly  excluded 
from  their  body  of  divinity. 

Asp.  The  very  identical  expression  may 
not  occur,  and  yet  the  doctrine  be  abun- 
dantly taught.  I  believe,  you  never  met 
with  the  word  resurrection  in  any  part  of 
the  Pentateuch,  nor  ever  read  the  phrase 
satisfaction  in  all  the  New  Testament.  Yet 
our  Lord  fully  proved  the  truth  of  the  for- 
mer from  the  wiitings  of  Moses  ;  and  you 
yourself  have  acknowledged  the  latter  to  be 
the  unanimous  sense  of  the  apostles  and 
evangelists. 

In  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  we  have 
express  and  repeated  mention  of  a  right- 
eousness imputed.  What  or  whose  right- 
eousness can  be  the  subject  of  this  asser- 
tion ?  Not  the  righteousness  of  angels  : 
They  are  a  superior  class  of  beings,  and 
have  no  such  intimate  connexion  with  our 
nature.  Not  the  righteousness  of  eminent 
saints  ;  This  is  the  exploded  error  of  Po- 
pery ;  and  fiu'iiishes  the  Romish  zealots 
witli  that  chimera  of  arrogance  and  folly, 
works  of  supererogation.  Not  any  right- 
eousness of  our  own ;  for  it  is   positively 


DIALOGUE  VI. 


215 


declared  to  be  without  works,  ( Rom.  iv.  6,) 
ill  which  no  works  of  our  own  have  any 
concurrence,  or  the  least  share. — What 
other  righteousness  then  can  be  meant,  but 
the  righteousness  of  oiur  great  Substitute, 
Surety,  and  Saviour,  who  took  our  nature, 
discharged  our  debt ;  and  is  therefore  styled, 
"  Jehovah  our  righteousness."  (Jer.  xxiii. 
6.) 

Ther.  This  seems  contraiy  to  the  whole 
tenor  of  the  .sacred  instructions.  What 
says  the  prophet  ?  "  When  the  \vicked  man 
tumeth  away  from  his  wickedness  that  he 
hath  committed,  and  doth  that  which  is 
lawful  and  right,  he  shall  save  his  soul 
alive."  (Ezek.  xviii.  27.)  Here  that  great- 
est of  blessings,  the  salvation  of  the  soul, 
is  ascribed  to  a  departure  from  evil,  and  a 
perseverance  in  good ;  to  a  real  alteration 
in  a  man's  own  temper  and  conduct,  not  to 
any  fanciful  application  of  some  transmis- 
sive  righteousness  from  another. 

Asp.  Let  me  ask  my  Theron,  is  there 
no  wickedness  but  riot  and  debauchery,  pro- 
faneness  and  injustice  ?  Unbelief,  though  it 
may  pass  without  censure  or  notice  in  a 
system  of  moriality,  is,  in  the  volume  of  re- 
velation, declared  a  cai)ital  crime.  Our 
Lord,  speaking  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  mentions 
it  as  a  signal  part  of  his  office,  that  "  He 
shall  convince  the  world  of  sin."  Of  what 
sin  ?  Scandalous  violations  of  moral  recti- 
tude ?  This  were  a  needless  employ.  The 
light  of  reason  is  sufficient  to  evince  such  a 
charge,  and  the  court  of  conscience  is  erect- 
ed to  pass  the  deserved  sentence.  Of  sin, 
adds  the  heavenly  Teacher,  "  because  they 
believe  not  on  me,"  (John  xvi.  9,)  on  my 
death,  as  the  cause  of  their  forgiveness  ;  on 
my  righteousness,  as  the  ground  of  their 
acceptance  ;  on  my  Spirit,  as  the  powerful 
principle  of  their  holiness. 

Unbelief  treats  God  as  a  liar,  (1  John  v. 
10,)  because  it  rejects  the  testimony  which 
he  has  bore  concerning  his  beloved  Son. 
Unbelief  tramples  on  the  blood  of  Clu"ist, 
and  is  a  most  contemptuous  affront  to  all 
his  saving  offices.  Unbelief  would  coun- 
teract the  operations  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
whose  pecidiar  work  it  is  to  testify  of  Christ, 
and  make  manifest  his  righteousness.  Un- 
belief instigates  (could  we  have  thought  it 
possible  ?)  a  child  of  dust,  a  slave  of  sin,  to 
idolize  himself  and  his  own  performances. 
To  say  all  in  a  word,  unbelief  is  that  great, 
that  comprehensive  ini([uity,  which  scorn- 
fully rejects,  or  imjjionsly  renounces,  the 
most  glorious  method  of  salvation  which 
Omniscience  itself  could  devise. 

Tlie  wicked  man,  therefore,  never  turns 
from  his  wickedness,  till  he  turns,  l)y  a  true 
faith,  to  Jesus  Christ.  Till  then,  he  is  a 
rebel  against  the  gospel,  however  he  may 
pay  some  specious  and  ));nli:il  regaid  to  the 
kiw.      So  li.igrnnt   a   rebel,  that   he  stands 


particularly  excepted,  in  the  act  of  ewnge- 
ItcaJ  indemnity.  For  as  "  he  that  believeth 
on  the  Son,  hath  everlasting  life ;  so  he  that 
believeth  not,  is  condemned  already,  and 
the  wiath  of  God  abideth  on  him."* 

Ther.  What  are  the  Psalmist's  sentiments 
on  this  subject  ?  Does  not  he  represent  the 
matter  in  a  very  different  light  ?  "  Thou, 
Lord,  iirt  merciful  ;  for  thou  rewardest 
every  man  according  to  his,"  not  another's 
"works."  ( Psalm  Ixii.  12.) 

Asp.  Weighty  saying !  May  it  impress 
our  very  hearts  !  God  is  merciful,  and  there- 
fore revvardeth.  Prom  whence  it  appears, 
that  what  we  call  a  reward  is  really  an  act 
of  mercy  rather  than  of  justice.  "  The 
wages  of  sin  is  death  ;  but  the  gift,"  (says 
the  apostle,  altering  his  style,  and  making  a 
most  important  distinction,)  the  gift  of  God 
"  is  eternal  life."  (Rom.  vi.  23.)  The  in- 
spired penman  subjoins,  not y?jr  but  accord- 
ing to,  eveiy  man's  works.  His  works  are 
the  measure,  not  the  meritorious  cause. 
To  merit,  is  the  sole  prerogative  of  the  Sa- 
\dour.  To  him  it  is  owing,  that  our  im- 
perfect services  are  honoured  with  any  ac- 
ceptance ;  much  more  that  they  are  recom- 
pensed with  any  reward. 

Ther.  Does  not  this  exposition  of  yours 
clasl)  with  that  truly  generous  acknowledg- 
ment of  St.  Peter  ?  "  In  every  nation,  he 
that  feareth  God,  and  worketh  righteous  ■ 
ness,  is  accepted  with  him."  (Acts  x.  35.) 
Here  it  is  undeniably  evident,  that  accept- 
ance with  our  Creator  is  founded  on  a 
man's  own  piety,  and  personal  integrity. 

Asp.  Rightly  to  understand  this  text, 
we  should  inquire  into  the  circumstances  of 
the  histoiy.  The  apostle  had  been  strongly 
and  most  unreasonably  prejudiced  in  favour 
of  the  Jews  ;  imagining,  that  the  salvation 
of  Christ,  like  the  dispensation  of  Moses, 
must  be  confined  to  his  countrymen.  But 
now,  having  considered  the  piu-port  of  his 
late  heavenly  vision,  having  compared  it 
with  the  angelic  message  delivered  to  Cor- 
nelius ;  and  being  made  acquainted  with 
the  character  of  tliat  valuable  man ;  he 
breaks  out  into  tliis  truly  catholic  declara- 
tion :  "  My  prejudices  are  vanished.  My 
sentiments  are  enlarged.  PVom  the  instance 
before  me,  it  is  demonstrably  certain,  that 
God  does  not  appropriate  the  blessings  of 
his  covenant  to  any  ])articular  person,  fa- 
mily, or  peojjle.  '  But,  in  every  nation,  he 
that  feareth  him,  aiul,'  fioni  a  principle  of 


*  John  iii.  IS,  .Tfi.  Tlie  worilif  are  exceedincrly  cm- 
phatic:il,  and  no  less  awful.  Not  barely  he  sli.all  come 
into  fondenination,  but  he  (that  believeth  not)  is 
condemned  alnady.  Though  ever  so  civilized  or  refin- 
ed in  his  outward  conversation,  he  lies  under  a  sentence 
of  death,  and  i,.;  Iheobject  of  divine  wrath.  Which  not 
only  will  visit  him,  but  abidclli  on  him.  .So  t)iat, 
wherever  he  may  be,  whatever  he  may  «lo,  the  dis- 
I'leasnrp  of  tlie  tremendous  Jehovah  hangs  over  him, 
like  a  dreadful  drslructive  sword  ;  which,  if  he  dies 
in  Mich  a  condition,  will  inevitably  fall  upon  him, 
and  tut  liini  in  inccts  eternally. 


216 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


religion  in  the  heart,  '  worketh  righteous- 
ness' in  the  life,  '  is  accepted  ;'  so  accepted, 
as  to  be  an  object  of  the  dinne  favour,  and 
an  inheritor  of  eternal  happiness." 

This,  I  think,  is  the  exact  meaning  of 
the  place.  And  let  it  be  recollected,  that 
no  one  truly  fears,  or  can  possibly  please 
God,  without  faith.  (Heb.  xi.  6.)  For 
which  reason,  it  seems  necessary  to  sui)pose, 
that  Cornelius,  though  a  heathen  by  birth, 
had  believed  through  grace.  Nay,  it  is 
evident  from  the  context,  that  he  had  heard 
of  Jesus  Christ ;  had  some  acquaintance 
with  the  dc'sign  of  his  coming,  and  the  ex- 
ecution of  his  office  ;*  enough  to  be  the 
ground  of  a  real,  though  perhaps  an  in- 
fantile faith.  The  business  of  the  apostle 
was,  to  lead  this  convert  into  the  clear  light, 
and  full  privileges  of  the  gospel ;  to  ratify 
and  conlirm  his  title  to  them,  by  the  sacred 
seal  of  baptism  ;  and  introduce  him,  as  the 
first  fruits  of  the  Gentiles,  into  the  Christ- 
ian church. 

So  that  nothing  can  be  concluded  from 
this  passage,  but  that  the  glad  tidings  of 
Christianity  are  for  Jews,  for  Gentiles,  for 
all  people  ;  that  faith,  even  when  weak,  is 
productive  of  good  works  ;  and  when  sin- 
cerely improved,  wUl  certainly  be  increased 
— "  will  go  from  strength  to  strength." 

TJier.  Does  not  our  Saviour,  in  describ- 
ing the  process,  and  fortelling  the  issue  of 
the  last  decisive  trial,  assign  a  kingdom  to 
the  righteous  ?  assign  it  in  this  precise 
view,  as  a  proper  remuneration  of  their  own 
good  works  ;  saying  in  the  most  express 
terms,  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father, 
inherit  the  Idngdom  prepared  for  you  from 
the  foundation  of  the  world  :  For  I  was  an 
hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat :  for,"  &c. 
(Matt.  XXV.  30.) 

Asp.  Be  pleased  to  take  notice  of  the 
expression.  They  are  bidden  to  inherit ; 
and  what  is  freer  than  an  inheritance  ?  Ob- 
gei-ve  also  the  reason  alleged,  and  compare 
it  with  the  rule  of  judicature  :  "  He  that 
believeth,"  saith  the  supreme  judge,  "  shall 
be  saved."  This  is  the  avowed,  the  invari- 
able standard,  by  which  he  proceeds  in  ad- 
ministering everlasting  judgment.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  confers  eternal  life  on  the 
righteous,  as  persons  entitled  to  this  great 
felicity  on  the  foot  of  his  own  gracious  ap- 
pointment. 

For  denotes,  not  the  foimdation,  but  the 
evidence  of  their  right.  "  I  acquit  such  a 
person,"  says  the  arbitrator  in  a  judicial 
claim  ;  "  for  the  witnesses  depose  that  the 


•  Acts  X.  3G,  37.  Indeed  it  could  hardly  be  other- 
wise, since  Cornelius  was  settled  at  Cesarea,  the  resi- 
dence of  the  lord-lieutenant,  and  seat  of  the  civil,  as 
Jerusalem  was  of  the  ecclesiastical  government.  In 
a  place  of  such  general  resort,  so  very  remarkable  an 
event  could  not  be  unknown,  especially  as  Philip  the 
evanjjcUst  had  tixed  his  abode  ii:  thai  city.  See  Acts 
viii.  W. 


debt  is  paid."  The  deposition,  which  an- 
swers to  these  righteous  acts,  is  the  proof; 
payment  of  the  debt,  which  coiTcsponds 
with  Christ's  perfect  obedience,  is  the 
cause*  of  the  discharge.  "  For  ye  have 
given,  ye  have  abounded  in  all  instances 
of  duty  to  me,  and  love  to  your  brethren  ; 
and  thereby  have  manifested  yourselves  true 
believers." 

It  may  be  farther obsened,  that  oxu:  Lord 
says  not  ye  have  done  it  to  your  fellow-crea- 
tures, but  to  "  these  my  brethren,"  ( Matth. 
XXV.  40. )  He  commends  not  every  random 
act  of  good  nature  or  generosity,  but  such 
kinds  of  beneficence  only  as  carry  the  Chris- 
tian stamp — were  exercised  to  a  disciple, 
"  in  the  nameof  a  disciple."  And  those  most 
evidently  spring  from  faith ;  these  unde- 
niably attest  its  sincerity. 

Ther.  Are  not  these  distinctions  more 
subtile  than  solid? 

Asp.  To  me  they  appear  in  no  such  light. 
If  you  think  otherwise,  let  us  appeal  to 
those  excellent  persons  themselves.  The 
turn,  the  very  remarkable  tiu-n  of  their  sen- 
timents AviU  fully  decide  our  question.  Do 
they  lay  any  stress  upon  their  own  religious 
duties  and  beneficent  deeds  ?  Far  from  re- 
lying on  them,  farther  still  from  pleading 
them,  they. bestow  not  a  single  thought  upon 
them.  Having  fixed  their  hopes  on  the 
Rock  of  Ages,  they  forget  these  transient 
bubbles,t  Nay,  they  wonder,  that  their  ex- 
alted Master  should  condescend  to  make 
any  honoiu-able  mention  of  such  imperfect 
services-  O  that  we  may  be  enabled,  through 
the  whole  course  of  our  lives,  to  follow  the 
example  of  their  piety  !  and,  when  we  stand 
before  the  tremendous  tribunal,  to  imitate 
their  humility  and  wisdom  !  Their  humili- 
ty, in  renouncing  themselves,  and  disclaim- 
ing all  desert  of  their  owni :  their  wisdom, 
in  reposing  their  whole  confidence  on  the 
merits  and  righteousness  of  their  Redeemer. 

Ther.  Our  Lord  makes  no  mention  of 
this  doctrine  in  his  sermon  on  the  mount. 
Whereas  if  it  had  been  so  very  material,  he 
would  at  least  have  touched  upon  it  in  that 
comprehensive  summaiy  of  true  religion. 

Asp.  Oiu-  Lord  says  not  a  word  concern- 
ing the  sacrifice  of  his  death.  Neither  is 
there  a  syllable  relating  to  his  intercession 
for  transgressors.  But  are  these  articles  of 
our  faith  to  be  deemed  fictitious  or  super- 


»  The  sjiring  is  come,  says  the  countryman :  for 
the  orchard  blooms,  and  the  blackbird  sinjjs.  The 
bloomin;^  of  the  trees,  and  the  melody  of  the  birds, 
were  never  supposed  to  create,  only  to  characterise, 
the  delightful  season.  They  are  not  its  cause,  but 
the  proof  of  its  taking  place. 

t  Bubbles  they  are,  compared  with  the  all-glorious 
obedience  of  Christ,  or  considered  in  reference  to  the 
grand  ati'air  of  justification  before  God.  liut  as  bub- 
bles, or  watery  vesicles  inflated  with  air,  are  the 
means  of  exhibiting  the  beautiful  colours  of  the  rain- 
bow; so  these  services,  though  poor  and  defective, 
iK-ar  lestimonv  to  the  existence  of  that  precious  grace 
-faHlv 


DIALO(iUE  Vr. 


217 


fluous,  because  tbey  are  not  expressly  incul- 
cated in  that  admirable  treatise  of  practical 
divinity  ? 

However,  upon  a  more  attentive  examina- 
tion, perhaps,  we  shall  find  the  point  most 
strongly  implied,  though  not  distinctly  spe- 
citied :  its  necessity  demonstrated,  though 
its  nature  be  not  explained.  The  illustrious 
Teacher  opened  his  mouth,  and  with  a  pe- 
culiar solemnity  said,  "  Blessed  are  the  poor 
in  spirit,"  (  Matth.  v.  3. )  But  who  are  they  ? 
Not  the  persons  who  soothe  themselves  with 
the  flattering  conceit  of  the  Laodicean 
church,  "  I  am  rich  in  obedience,  and  in- 
creased in  spiritual  goods,"  (Rev.  iii.  17) 
Those  rather,  who  see  their  indigence,  be- 
wail their  guilt,  and  lumger  and  thirst  after 
the  justifying  merit  of  a  Redeemer  ;  wlie, 
from  the  very  bottom  of  an  humbled  heart, 
confess,  "  Lord,  I  am  no  more  able  to  con- 
form all  my  conduct  to  thy  most  holy  law, 
than  I  am  capable  of  atoning  for  my  innu- 
merable sins.  Christ  must  be  my  righteous- 
ness, as  well  as  my  propitiation,  or  else  I 
am  irrecoverably  undone." 

The  inimitable  preacher  farther  assures 
his  hearers,  that,  "  unless  their  righteous- 
ness exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  they  shall  in  no  wlsa  enter 
nitothekingdom  of  heaven," (Matth.  v.  '10.) 
How  must  Christians  exceed  the  Pharisees? 
Not  only  in  being  sincere,  in  having  respect 
unto  all  God's  commandments;  but  also  in 
possessing  a  complete  rigliteousness,  such 
as  the  divine  holiness  can  with  complacency 
accept,  and  in  which  the  divine  justice  may 
with  honour  acquiesce.  Nor  can  this  be 
any  thing  less  than  the  perfect  obedience  of 
the  great  ilediator.  St.  Paul's  memorable 
testimony,  concerning  his  attainments  in  tlie 
Pharisaical,  and  his  hopes  in  the  Christian 
.state,  afford  the  very  best  comment  upon  this 
important  declaration  of  our  Lord,  (Phil, 
iii.  7,  8,  9.) 

TTier.  The  Oracle  of  heaven,  you  know, 
was  once  considted  upon  that  most  momen- 
tous of  all  questions,  how  a  person  may  as- 
certain his  title  to  life  and  immort;ility  ? 
And  what  is  the  tenor  of  the  sacred  res- 
cript ?  We  ai'e  referred  to  the  ten  command- 
ments ;  and,  in  the  most  explicit  terms, 
with  the  most  peremptory  air,  told,  "this do, 
and  thou  shalt  live."  (Matth.  xix.  17.  Luke 
X.  28.) 

Asp.  That  particidar  person,  if  you  please, 
was  leferred  to  the  ten  commandments  ; 
not  we,  and  mankind  in  general.  Our  Lord, 
in  the  preceding  verses,  had  been  informing 
liis  disciples,  that  they  must  receive  the 
kin;^dom  of  God,  or  thegi'aceof  the  gospel, 
and  ihe  blessings  it  proposes,  as  a  little 
ciiihl.  And  this  can  hardly  signify,  in  con- 
sefjuencc  of  tlu'ir  own  doings. 

71i(t:  "  That  particular  person  referred 
to !    Not  \vv.,  and  mankind  in  general  !"'  I 


do    not    under.--tand    your   meaning,    Asjja- 
sio. 

Asp.  You  will  observe,  then,  that  our 
Lord's  reply  w.is  not  an  universal  direction, 
butan  answer,  adhominem,  peculiarly  adapted 
to  the  young  gentleman's  ajii)lication,  which, 
iiowever  it  may  be  admired,  was  none  of 
the  wisest.  Instead  of  asking,  "  How  shall 
a  poor  guilty  mortal,  who  is  every  day  of- 
fending, obtain  forgiveness  from  the  right- 
eous God?"  instead  of  saying,  "  How  shall 
I,  who  am  not  able  to  think  a  good 
thought,  make  sure  my  title  to  an  eternal 
weight  ofglory?"  our  querist  demands,"  what 
good  thing  shall  I  do,  that  I  may  inherit 
eternal  life?"  The  reply  proceeds  upon  the 
inquirer's  own  principles,  "  If  you  expect 
salvation  upon  such  legal  terms,  know,  that 
your  obedience  must  be  nothing  less  than 
a  perfect  conformity  to  the  divine  law. 
Perform  all  its  precepts,  in  their  utmost 
extent,  and  with  an  unremitted  perseverance, 
then" — Cut,  alas  !  such  perfection  is  too 
high  for  fallen  creatures,  they  cannot  attain 
unto  it.  Necessarily,  therefore,  nmst  they 
drop  all  such  pretensions,  and  have  recourse 
I  to  some  other  method  of  justification. 

T/ier.  Why  did  that  "wonderful counsel- 
[lor,"  if  such  was  the  purport  of  his  answer, 
j  express  himself  so  obscurely  ?    Why  did  he 
'not  divert  his  promising  scholar  from  this 
fruitless  attempt,  and  put  him  in   the«right, 
the  practicable  way  of  obtaining  salvation  ? 
Asp.    1  his  he  did  with  the  finest  address, 
'  and  m  the  most  skilful  manner.      Had  our 
Lord  aflii  med,  "  You  are  worldly,  you  are 
I  covetous,  your   riches  are  your  god  ;"  such 
j  a  charge  would  in  all  probability  have  been 
!  as  confidently  denied  as  it  was  plainly  urged. 
Therefore  he  brings  this  specious  hyjiocrite 
to  a  test*  which    could  not  be   evaded,  and 
which  was  sure  to  discover  the  truth,  a  test 
Vi'hich  laid  open  the  palpable  and  enormous 
defects  of  his  so  much  boasted  obedience  ; 
which  made  it  appear  that,  instead  of  keep- 
ing all  the  commandments,  tliis  vain  self- 
justiciary  had   not  obeyed  the   very  first; 
but  amidst  all  his  towering  imaginations  of 
himself,  had  been,  and  at  that  very  instant 
was,  a  sordid  grovelling  idolater,  who   pre- 
ferred his   transitory  possessions   on   earth 
to  an  everlasting  inheritance  in  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.      Could  any  expedient  be  more 
suitable  to  the  case,  or  better  calculated  to 
reduce   him,    intoxicated   as   he    was   with 
pride,  to  a  sober  humble  mind  ;  to  beat  him 
off  from   his  false   foundation,  "  the  right- 


*  Matt.  xix.  •21.  "  If  thou  wilt  be  perfect,  sell  all 
that  thou  hast,  ami  jjivc  to  the  poor."  This  direc- 
tion seems  to  be  much  of  the  same  nature  mth  that 
other  part  of  our  Lord's  reply:  "  If  thou  wilt  enter 
into  life,  keep  the  commandments."  Both  were  per- 
sonal, both  occasional.  bo!h  adnjitcd  to  particular 
circumstances.  The  latlci  is  no  more  the  slated  evan- 
gelical way  to  heaven,  lliaii  the  former  is  indispens- 
ably obligatory  on  all  C'hriotians. 


218 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


eousness  whicli  is  of  the  law,"  and  lead  him 
to  a  reliance  on  the  promised,  the  expected, 
the  present  Messiah  ? 

It  puts  me  in  mind  of  my  friend  Saga- 
cio's  conduct,  which  seems  to  have  some 
conformity  \vith  oiu-  Lord's  procedure,  and 
may  possibly  tend  to  illustrate  its  propriety. 
Visiting  one  of  his  unlearned  neighbours, 
he  found  him  in  company  with  a  certain 
talkative  stranger,  who  was  haranguing  at 
an  extravagant  rate  on  the  wonders  of  as- 
tronomy. Sagacio  soon  perceived  that  the 
chief  furniture  of  this  extraordinary  adept 
lay  in  a  little  acquaintance  mth  the  tech- 
nical terms,  and  somewhat  more  than  a  lit- 
tle share  of  assurance.  How  should  he 
bring  the  self-plumed  sciolist  to  a  little 
modesty  of  sentiment,  and  decorinn  of  con- 
versation? He  took  leave  to  ask,  "  What 
the  word  astronomy  might  signify?  The 
orator  was  struck  dumb  in  a  moment. 
He  had  never  informed  himself,  it  seems, 
that  astronomy  related  to  the  order  and  re- 
gulation of  the  stars.  This  single  question 
taught  our  minute  philosopher  more  effec- 
tually than  twenty  lectures  on  the  subject. 
It  taught  him  his  own  ignorance,  and  that 
he  had  the  very  rudiments  of  his  so  much 
admired  science  still  to  lean). 

Titer.  What  will  you  say  to  those  famous 
passages  in  the  epistle  of  St.  James,  "  By 
works*  a  man  is  justified," — "  Was  not 
Abraham  our  father  justified  by  works?" 
(Jam.  ii.  21,  24.)  Can  any  words  be 
plainer  in  their  meaning  ?  or  can  any  mean- 
ing be  more  directly  opposite  to  the  whole 
scope  of  yom'  argumentation  ? 

Asp.  This  I  would  say,  Theron :  the 
passages  you  quote,  when  detached  from 
the  context,  may  seem  inconsistent  with  the 
declarations  of  another  apostle  ;  as  a  limb, 
when  wrenched  from  its  natural  situation, 
appears  with  an  air  of  disproportion.  Where- 
as, reduce  the  dislocated  part,  and  it  will 
recover  the  symmetry  of  its  shape,  it  will 
harmonize  exactly  with  the  animal  system. 
Replace  likewise  these  assertions,  consider 
them  in  connexion  with  the  whole  para- 
graph, and  they  will  be  found,  if  not  uni- 
sons, yet  perfect  concords  with  the  strain 
of  St.  Paul's  teaching. 

What  is  the  point  which  St.  James  un- 
dertakes to  illustrate  ?  To  distinguish  a 
genuine  from  an  insincere  faith.  "  If  a  man 
say,  he  hath  faith,"  (Jam.  ii.  14.)  this  is 
mentioned  as  the  boast  of  some  hypoci  itical 
professor.  So  that  the  apostle  is  evidently 
dealing  with  a  pretender  to  the  precious  gift ; 
and  therefore  replies,  "  Shew  me  thy  faith," 
prove  the  reality  of  thy  claim  ;  prove  it  to 
me  and  to  the  church,  to  thy  fellow-crea- 
tures ajid  fellow- Christians.  If  unproduc- 
tive of  righteous  and  godly  works,  we  must 
jininounce  it  spurious,  worthless,  dead. 
H;iving  dcttclcd  the  counterfeit,  he  pro- 


ceeds to  describe  the  sterling.  The  grand 
characteristic  of  which  is,  a  frame  of  mind, 
and  a  coiu-se  of  action,  corresponding  with 
the  doctrine  believed.  By  this  touchstone, 
the  faith  of  our  renowned  progenitor  was 
tried,  and,  being  tried,  was  "  found  unto 
praise,  and  honour,  and  glory."  "  Was  not 
Abraham  om-  father  justified  by  works  ?" 
Justified  !  How  ?  As  to  acceptance  ^vith 
the  Supreme  Judge  ?  No  :  this  was  effect- 
ed long  before  the  Patriarch  offered  up 
Isaac.  But  when  he  exercised  that  heroic 
act  of  self-denial,  resignation  and  obedience, 
then  his  justification  was  evidenced  to  all 
generations.  "  His  faith  was  made  per- 
fect," answered  its  proper  end,  and  appear- 
ed to  be  of  the  tnie,  the  triumphant,  the 
scriptural  kind,  since  it  overcame  the 
world,  overcame  self,  and  regarded  God  as 
all  in  aU. 

Upon  the  whole,  St.  Paul  speaks  concern- 
ing the  justification  of  oiu-  persons,  St. 
James  concerning  the  justification  of  our 
faith.*  St.  Paul  describes  the  manner  of 
being  justified  before  the  all-seeing  God ; 
St,  James  points  out  the  prooff  of  a  justi- 
fied state,  as  it  is  \asible  to  men.  The 
former  proceeds  from  the  immaculate  right- 
eousness of  Christ,  placed  to  our  account ; 
the  latter  consists  in  the  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness adorning  om'  life.  Rightly  understood, 
therefore,  these  passages  are  not  the  least 
contradictory  to  the  epistles  of  St.  Paul, 
or  to  the  scope  of  my  argumentation.  But 
are  a  seasonable  caveat,  and  a  proper  pre- 
servative, against  misunderstanding  those, 
or  perverting  this. 

Ther.  I  wish  you  woidd  read  that  con- 
cise but  judicious  abridgment  of  tnie  reli- 
gion, comprised  in  the  fifteenth  psalm.  The 
sacred  penman,  for  his  own,  and  for  the  in- 
formation of  all  mankind,  asks,  "  Lord,  who 
shall  dwell  in  thy  tabernacle,  or  who  shall 
rest  upon  thy  holy  liill  ?"  To  this  most  in- 
teresting inqiury,  the  following  verses  are 
a  full  and  satisfactoiy  answer ;  the  whole 
of  which  turns  upon  the  discharge  of  moral 
duties  ;  "  walking  uprightly  and  working 
righteousness  ;"  without  a  syllable,  or  a 
single    hint,   concerning  the  very   superior 


•  That  tlie  expression  used  by  St.  James  signifies 
this  declarative  justification  is  plain  from  1  Tim.  iii, 
16,  where  the  apostle,  speaking  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  says  'S/xai&/('>i>  He  was  justified  in  or  by  the 
Spirit ;  declared  to  be  the  true  Son  of  God  ;  manifest- 
ed on  earth,  and  recognised  from  lieaven,  as  the  un- 
doubted Saviour  of  the  world. 

t  A  very  little  reflection,  I  should  imagine,  must 
convince  every  unprejudiced  reader,  that  St.  Janies 
cannot  possibly  be  stating  the  method  of  justification 
before  the  infinitely  righteous  God  ;  because  he  never 
so  much  as  mentions  the  death  of  Christ,  "  who  made 
his  soul  an  oflering  for  sin  ;  to  whom  gave  all  the 
prophets  witness,  that  whosoever  belicveth  in  him, 
shall  receive  remission  of  sins;  and  besides  whom, 
there  is  no  other  name  gi  ven  under  lieavcn,  whereby 
we  ran  be  saved.  Could  an  apostle  so  alisnhilely  fur- 
gel  his  Lord;  and  in  a  case  where  every  other  ni- 
spircd  writer  acknowledges  Him;  nay,  acknowledges 
hiin  to  be  ALL  in  all  ! 


DIALOGUE  VI. 


219 


excellence  of  faith,  or  the  extreme  necessity 
of  a  vicarious  obedience. 

Asp.  I  have  often  read,  and  I  well  re- 
member, that  beautifid,  that  instructive 
psalm.  And  I  beg  leave  to  observe,  once 
for  all,  with  relation  to  such  passaj^^es  of  the 
Old  Testament,  that  they  suppose  the  per- 
sons whom  they  describe  to  be  convnnced 
of  their  natural  corruption,  to  be  humbled 
under  a  sense  of  their  actual  guilt,  and  to 
live  in  a  conscientious  observance  of  the 
expiatory  sacrifices ;  all  which  had  an  in- 
variable reference  to  Christ,  and  derived 
their  whole  virtue  from  his  mediation. 

Would  any  of  the  Jewish  saints,  think 
you,  have  dared  to  ad\-ance  a  plea  for  eter- 
nal blessedness,  upon  the  foot  of  their  own 
conformity  to  such  moral  directions  ;  ne- 
glecting, at  the  same  time,  the  sacrifices  of 
the  tliree  great  festivals,  or  a  believing  im- 
provement of  the  daily  oblation  ?  By  no 
means.  They  were,  and  they  would  ac- 
knowledge themselves  deplorably  defective ; 
they  would  plead  the  promise  of  free  grace, 
and  Hy  to  the  blood  which  God  himself 
had  appointed  to  make  an  atonement  for 
their  souls.  By  such  sentiments,  and  such 
a  conduct,  they  reduced  to  practice  the  very 
essence  of  our  doctrine  ;  disavowing  their 
own  deeds,  however  virtuous  or  religious, 
and  trusting  in  the  strength  of  Israel,  "  the 
Lord  our  righteousness,"  who  alone  fulfill- 
ed all  the  i)recepts  contained  in  this  excell- 
ent formulary  of  duty ;  who  was  also  the 
substance  of  every  purifying  and  of  every 
proj)itiatory  rite. 

Ther.  Has  not  the  sacred  writer  ex- 
pressly said,  at  the  close  of  the  psalm, 
"  Whoso  doeth  these  things,  shall  never 
fall  ?" 

Asp.  He  has ;  and  this,  I  apprehend  is 
his  meaning.  "  Persons  of  such  a  temper, 
and  such  a  practice,  bear  the  marks  of  God's 
children,  and  are  meet  for  his  glory.  Ac- 
cordingly, they  shall  never  fall  either  into 
total  apostacy  here,  or  final  condemnation 
hereafter.  They  are  now  heirs,  and  in  due 
time  shall  be  possessors,  of  his  eternal  king- 
dom." 

But  you  will  take  notice,  that  all  these 
duties  and  qualifications  only  characterise, 
not  constitute,  the  inheritor  of  heaven. 
You  will  likewise  advert  to  another  very 
remarkable  circumstance  in  the  description : 
"  He  setteth  not  by  himself,  but  is  lowly  in 
his  own  eyes  ;"*  or,  as  the  more  expressive 


1  Psal  XV.  4.  □MQDV  DU'mjH  I  cannot  say 
that  I  admire  the  Rible  translationof  thisclausc:  "  In 
whose  eyes  the  vile  person  is  contemptible."  Me- 
thinks,  it  does  not  sivovir  of  the  tender  and  benign 
spirit  of  our  religion,  which  teaches  us  to  honour  all 
men,  to  despise  no  one's  per^on,  but  only  to  detest  the 
wickedness  of  the  wicked. 

Should  the  sense  I  have  opposed  have  its  weight, 
the  sense  I  have  preferred  is  incomparably  weif;Iilier. 
If  to  despise  the  vile,  is  a  religious  act,  to  think 
meanly  ol  uui.selvcs,  is  a  much  more  advanced,  and  a 


original  speaks,  he  is  despicable  and  vile  in 
his  owTi  sight ;  so  far  from  aspiring  to  self- 
justification,  that  he  even  condemns  and  ab- 
hors himself,  and  falls  down,  as  a  most  lui- 
worthy  wretch,  at  the  foot  of  infinitely  free 
grace. 

Ther.  I  cannot  but  think  it  is  the  current 
doctrine  of  scripture,  and  I  am  sure  it  is 
one  of  the  first  principles  which  the  light 
of  nature  teaches, — That  the  most  high 
God  must  necessarily  love  righteousness, 
and  take  pleasiu'e  in  the  righteous. 

Asp.  If  the  light  of  nature  was  to  pub- 
lish a  gospel,  I  believe  it  would  be  formed 
upon  your  plan.  It  would  bestow  favour 
only  on  the  innocent,  the  virtuous,  and  the 
holy.  But  the  gospel  of  Christ  rims  in  a 
very  different  strain :  This  brings  ))ardon 
for  the  condemned,  and  blessings  for  the 
acciu'sed  :  This  is  health  to  the  sick,  and 
recoveiy  to  the  ruined.  "  The  Lord  hath 
anointed  me,"  saith  its  divine  Author,  "to 
preach  good  tidings  to  the  meek,"*  who  arc 
humbled  under  a  sense  of  their  sinfulness. 
"  He  hath  sent  me  to  bind  up  the  broken 
hearted,"  who  are  wounded  with  a  conviction 
of  their  undone  state  ; — "  to  proclaim  liber- 
ty to  the  captives,"  the  wretched  captives 
of  Satan  ;  "  and  the  opening  of  the  prison 
to  them  that  are  bound,"  bound  in  the  chains 
of  ignorance,  impotence,  and  misery. 

As  I  am  myself  a  most  unworthy  siimer, 
you  must  not  be  displeased  if  I  espouse  the 
cause  of  those  unhappy  creatures.  Yet 
though  a  friend  of  sinners,  I  am  no  enemy 
to  the  righteous.  I  entirely  agree  v\'ith  my 
Theron  in  allowing,  that  the  most  high 
God  necessarily  loves  righteousness.  Only 
I  want  to  be  informed,  where  this  admira- 
ble and  lovely  quality  is  to  be  found  ?  Not 


far  more  difficult  instance  of  true  religion.  This  is 
to  copy  the  highest  pattern  of  human  excellence,  who, 
notwithstanding  his  very  superior  attainments,  ac- 
counted himself  less  than  the  least  of  all  saints,  nay, 
the  very  chiefest  of  sinners. 

*  Isa.  Ixi.  1.  Upon  this  passage  of  Isaiah  I  would 
beg  leave  to  observe  that  the  word  meek  seems  not  to 
answer  or  convey  the  prophet's  idea.  By  glad  tidings 
to  the  meek,  we  are  inclined  to  think  of  persons  en- 
dued with  that  placid  and  quiet  spirit,  which  is  in  the 
sight  of  God  of  great  price.  This  might  discourage 
many  people,  who  know  themselves  to  be  destitute  of 
such  a  gracious  habit.  This  might  lead  others  to  sus- 
pect, that  some  amiable  disposition  is  previously  ne- 
cessary, in  order  to  receive  the  benefits  of  redeeming 
grace.  Which  is  a  very  mistaken,  and  will  prove  a 
most  uncomfortable  forbidding  notion. 

The  original  □113^  signifies,  in  this  place,  the 
afflicted  ;  not  so  much  those  who  are  beautified  with 
meekness  as  those  who  are  oppressed  with  misery,  spi- 
ritual misery  especially  ;  not  excepting  even  those 
who  are  slaves  to  their  own  unruly  passions.  The 
Lord  Jesus  never  find.s,  but  makes  people  meek.  Meek- 
ness is  one  of  the  fruits  of  his  .Spirit,  one  of  the  bless- 
ings which  he  bestows  on  the  unworthy. 

1  he  whole  paragraph  i.s  a  descrintion  of  extreme 
wretcliedness.  Wliat  can  be  more  aistressed  than  the 
man  whose  outward  circumstances  are  imiioverished 
and  ruined;  whosespiritisbroken  uiideiihe  weightof 
his  calaiiiuies,  who  is  lakcn  laplive  by  llie  enemy,  is 
thrown  into  a  dungeon,  ami  loaded  with  rous  ?  Tins 
i.s  the  prophet's  lepiekcntatioii,  tins  is  the  picture  of 
unconverted  sinners;  and  to  these,  to  these  Christ 
Jfsus  is  a  ransom,  a  deliverer,  a  portion. 


220 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


among  the  Gentiles :  They  have  swerved 
from  the  dictates  of  natural  conscience. 
Not  among  the  Jews :  They  have  broke 
the  holy  commandment  delivered  on  mount 
Sinai.  Not  among  Christians :  For,  if 
God  should  enter  into  judgment  with  us, 
we  could  not  answer  him  one  of  a  thousand. 
In  the  kingdom  of  Ethiopia,  or  in  the 
country  of  the  Moors,  where  will  you  find 
the  native  whites  ? 

The  Son  of  God  found  none  among  the 
race  of  Adam  that  were  entitled  to  the 
character  of  righteous.  He  who  gave  him- 
self a  ransom  for  all,  makes  no  application 
to  such  persons.*  Why?  Because  he  sul- 
lenly disesteemed  personal  goodness,  or  was 
unable  to  distinguish  the  excellency  of  in- 
herent virtue  ?  No ;  but  because  he  knew, 
that,  amiable  as  these  qualifications  are, 
they  have  no  existence  in  the  human  heart, 
till  the  sinner,  reconciled  by  his  death,  be 
sanctified  also  by  his  Spirit. 

You  remember,  perhaps,  that  remarkable 
answer  which  the  Spartans  once  returned 
to  a  threatening  embassy  from  some  of  the 
neighbouring  states  ?  Nothing  could  be  more 
concise ;  and,  I  think,  nothing  was  ever 
more  spirited  and  significant. 

Ther.  Those  neighbours  gave  them  to 
imderstand,  by  their  ambassadors,  "  That, 
if  they  entered  their  territories,  they  would 
biu-n  their  towns,  make  the  inhabitants  pri- 
soners, and  spread  destniction  wherever 
they  advanced."  To  which  msolent  me- 
nace, the  brave  Lacedemonians  made  no 
other  reply,  than — If.  Is  this  the  story  to 
which  you  refer  ? 

Asp.  The  very  same.  And  when  you 
are  speaking  of  human  righteousness,  as  the 
cause  of  our  acceptance  with  the  eternal 
God,  I  would  borrow  the  language  of  a 
Spartan.  If,  shall  be  my  reply. — If,  se- 
clusive  of  the  obedience,  and  independent 
on  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  you  can  furnish 
yourself  with  this  endowment ;  or  if  you 
can  carry  your  righteousness  to  that  perfec- 
tion, which  may  equal  the  purity  of  the  law, 
and  comport  with  the  majesty  of  the  'La.w- 
giver  ;  then  trust  in  it — let  it  be  the  ground 
of  your  confidence,  and  seek  no  better 
foundation. 

But  whosoever  shall  in  this  manner  seek 
for  his  recommendation  to  the  favoiu-  of 
God,  will  act  like  the  mistaken  countryman 
in  Horace,  who,  being  vuiable  to  ford  the 
river,  took  up  a  resolution  to  wait  till  the 
stream  was  all  run  by  : 

"  At  ille 

LabituT,  et  labetur  in  omne  volubilis  aevum."f 

Ther.  Here,  I  fancy,  we  must  take  leave 
of  your  countryman.     If  he  adheres  to  his 


resolution,  we  shall  find  him  in  the  very 
same  situation  when  breakfast  is  over ;  and 
may  resume  our  subject,  just  where  it  is 
discontinued. 


DIALOGUE  VII. 

Ther.  To  me,  who  have  spent  the  great- 
est part  of  the  winter  in  to\vn,  these  scenes 
of  the  country  are  inexpressibly  pleasing. 
Take  who  will  the  gilded  saloon,  and  the 
silken  settee,  so  long  as  I  can  shelter  my- 
self under  the  canopy  of  such  a  spreading 
beech,  and  use  one  of  its  coarse  misshapen 
roots  for  my  seat. 

It  is  true  we  see  no  longer  those  splendid 
brocades,  and  elegant  toupees,  which  dis- 
tinguish the  Park  and  the  Mall :  but  we 
have  full  in  our  view  a  multitude  of  honest 
rustics,  piu-suing  their  cheerful  labours  in 
yonder  meadow ;  some  mowing  the  luxuri- 
ant herbage ;  some  raising  it  into  regular 
cocks  ;  others  loading  their  waggons  vrith 
the  hay,  or  clearing  the  ground  with  their 
rakes.  The  ground,  cleared  of  its  soft  en- 
cumbrance, appears  fresh  and  green,  like 
another  spring ;  while  the  exhalations  of 
the  tedded  grass,  floating  in  the  air,  give  a 
rural  perfume  to  the  gale.  And  which, 
my  Aspasio,  which  are  the  most  valuable 
objects  : — The  little  labourers  of  the  hive, 
that  enrich  themselves,  and  regale  their 
masters  ?  or  the  gay  flutterers  of  the  garden, 
whose  whole  life  is  nothing  but  sport,  and 
their  highest  character  is,  to  be  insignifi- 
cantly pretty  ? 

Asp.  In  this  retirement  we  hear  none  of 
the  wanton  and  corrupting  airs  of  the  opera ; 
no,  nor  the  majestic  and  ennobling  melody 
of  the  oratorio.*  But  we  have  a  band  of 
music  stationed  in  the  grove,  and  a  concert 
of  native  liarmony  warbling  from  the  boughs. 
We  are  entertained  with  the  music  which 
charmed  the  human  ear  long  before  Jubal 
found  out  his  instruments,  (Gen.  iv.  21,) 
and  thousands  of  years  before  Handel  com- 
posed his  notes.  The  buliinch,  and  a  mul- 
titude of  little  tuneful  throats,  strike  the 
key.  The  thrush  below,  and  the  skylark 
responsive  from  above,  diversify  and  exalt 
the  strain.  The  blackbird,  somewhat  like 
the  solemn  organ,  with  notes  perfectly  mel- 
low and  gracefully  sonorous,  crowns  the 
choir  ;    while  the  turtle's  melancholy  voice. 


«  Matth.  ix.  13.  "  I  came  not  to  call  the  righteous 
but  sinners  to  repentame. ' 

j  Vain  man  desist ;  such  flatferinR  hopes  forego : 
11  Rows,  and  flows,  and  will  forever  flow. 


»  Majestic  and  ennobling.— This,  I  think,  is  the  true 
character,  and  expresses  the  real  tendency  of  the  ora- 
torio. Nevertheless,  it  may  not  be  improper  to  ob- 
serve, that  ifwe  carry  a  trifling  or  irreligious  spiut  to 
the  entertainment;  if  we  attend  to  the  musical  airs, 
but  disregard  those  sacred  truths  which  enter  into  the 
composition;  such  a  behaviour  wiil  be  little  belter 
than  a  profanation  of  holy  things.  I  fe.ir  it  will  be  a 
species  of  taking  Cod's  adoiable  and  glorious  name  m 
vain. 


DIALOGUE  VIl. 


22  i 


and  tlie  murmuring  water's  jjlaintive  tone, 
deepen  and  complete  the  universal  sym- 
j)hony. 

This  is  the  music  which  constituted  the 
first  song  of  thanksgiving,  and  formed  the 
first  vocal  praise,  that  the  all-gracious  Cre- 
ator received  from  his  new  made  world. 
This  is  neither  the  parent  of  effeminacy, 
nor  a  pander  for  vice,  but  refines  the  affec- 
tions, even  while  it  amuses  the  imagination. 

Tlier,  All  the  entertainments  of  nature 
are  calculated  to  secure  our  innocence,  as 
well  as  to  gratify  our  fancy.  And  what  is 
another  very  agreeable  circumstance,  those 
gratifications  which  afford  the  sublimest 
pleasiu'e  are  exhibited  gratis,  while  those 
■which  enervate  the  mind  and  debauch  the 
affections  nmst  be  dearly  purchased.  Every 
one  cannot  gain  admittance  into  the  boxes 
or  the  pit,  when  some  celebrated  tragedy  is 
brought  upon  the  stage  ;  but  every  one  may 
behold  the  beauteous  exhibitions  of  spring, 
and  the  finished  productions  of  autumn. 
All  may  contemplate  the  machinery  of  na- 
ture, and  the  wonders  of  creation  ;  thereby 
enjoying  a  far  more  exquisite  amusement, 
without  any  of  the  guilt  or  any  of  the  dan- 
ger. 

The  inhabitants  of  yonder  villages  have 
never  beheld  the  splendid  i>roccssion  which 
solemnizes  the  coronation  of  a  monarch, 
nor  the  gaudy  illuminations  which  distin- 
guish the  anniversary  of  his  birth.  But 
they  see,  almost  every  morning,  a  much 
nobler  spectacle  displayed  in  the  east.  I'hey 
see  the  great  Ruler  of  the  day,  or  rather 
the  envoy  from  day's  eternal  Sovereign, 
making  his  entry  amidst  the  spaces  of  the 
sky.  The  heavens  are  strewed  with  co- 
lours, which  outvie  the  pinks  and  carnations. 
The  grass  is  decked  with  dew-drops,  and 
every  plant  is  strung,  as  it  were,  with  peails. 
All  around,  the  darkness  retires,  and  sweet 
refreshing  gales  arise.  At  length  the  mag- 
nificent luminary  appears.  And  what  is 
all  the  ostentatious  pomp  of  kings,  what  is 
all  the  glitter  of  the  most  brilliant  court, 
compared  with  his-'  transcendent  lustre  ? 
This  spectacle  we  may  behold  without  loss 
of  time  or  prejudice  to  health.  Nay,  we 
cannot  behold  it  without  improving  one  and 
redeeming  the  other.  So  beneficial  are 
even  the  pleasures  which  nature  yields  ;  so 
serviceable  the  very  diversions  to  which 
she  invites ! 

Asp.  Thus  gracious  is  the  Almighty 
Maker  in  the  constitution  of  material  things. 
The  substantial  and  the  valuable  are  open 
to  every  one,  are  accessible  by  all.  Only 
the  tinsel  and  the  trappings  are  the  property 
of  a  few,  the  i)oor  jirerogative  of  wealth. 

No  less  gracious  is  God  in  the  disposal 
of  spiritual  favours.  These  are  infinitely 
more  excellent,  and  yet  are  equally  free. 
We    are   invited    to    buv    tlicm,    "  w  itliuut 


money  and  without  price."  (Isaiah  Iv.  1.) 
What  do  you  give  for  the  benefits  of  the 
rising  sun,  or  the  delights  of  this  rural  me- 
lody ?  The  case  is  much  the  same  with  re- 
gard to  the  righteousness  by  which  we  are 
justified,  and  all  the  blessings  of  salvation. 

Ther.  This  brings  to  our  remembrance 
the  countryman  whom  we  left  on  the  banks 
of  the  liver.  And  for  aught  I  can  see, 
Theron  and  the  rustic  are  j)retty  much  upon 
a  footing  -.  the  first  as  far  from  acceding  to 
your  notions,  as  the  last  is  from  gaining  his 
point. 

Asp.  Have  you  any  objection,  Theron, 
to  these  gifts  of  nature,  because  they  are 
neither  purchased  by  your  money  nor  pro- 
duced by  your  own  toil  ? 

Ther.  But  who  can  ever  expect  to  ob- 
tain pardon,  and  acceptance,  and  eternal 
salvation,  at  so  cheap  a  rate !  It  seems  to 
be  all  delusion,  Aspasio. 

Asp.  So  cheap  !  Then  you  would  pay 
somewhat,  I  perceive,  by  way  of  price. 
But  give  me  leave  to  ask,  what  price  did 
you  pay  to  God  your  IVIaker,  for  fa.shioning 
you  in  your  mother's  womb  ?  what  price 
have  you  paid  to  God  your  Preserver,  for 
upholding  you  ever  since  you  was  bom?  or 
what  price  do  you  think  of  paying  to  God 
the  supreme  Proprietor,  for  the  ground  on 
which  you  tread,  for  the  air  in  which  you 
breathe,  for  the  light  by  which  you  see? 
Just  the  same  price  must  you  advance  to 
God  your  Saviour,  for  all  his  justifying 
merits. 

Both  these  and  those  proceed  from  the 
same  benefactor.  They  are  all  absolutely 
nece.'isary,  either  for  the  welfare  of  the 
body,  or  the  happiness  of  the  soul.  And 
they  are  all  vouchsafed  on  the  same  free 
terms.  For  thus  saith  the  propliet :  "  His 
going  forth,"  in  the  dispensation  of  the  gos- 
pel, "  is  prepared  as  the  morning."  ('hrist, 
with  all  his  precious  privileges,  "  shall 
come  unto  us  as  the  rain,  as  the  latter  and 
former  rain  unto  the  earth."  (Hos.  vi.  3.) 
However,  if  you  are  acquainted  with  a  dif- 
ferent or  a  better  way,  be  so  good  as  to 
communicate  your  knowledge. 

Ther.  Some,  you  may  observe,  depend 
upon  their  inoffensive  behaviour.  They 
live  peaceably  ;  they  do  no  harm  to  their 
neighbours  ;  they  are  guilty  of  no  gross  of- 
fence against  God.  And  why  should  they 
not  hope  to  obtain  his  favour  ?  They  ap- 
prehend the  prophet  Samuel  establishes 
their  hope,  when  he  makes  this  solemn  ap- 
peal :  "  Whose  ass  have  I  taken  ?  whose 
ox  have  I  taken  ?  or  whom  have  I  defraud- 
ed ?"(1  Sam.  xii.  3.)  Nay,  they  imagine, 
that  our  Lord  himself  has  authorized  their 
expectation,  by  giving  this  character  of  Na- 
thaniel :  "  An  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is 
no  guile."  (.John  i.  47.)  A  freedom  from 
outward  injustice  and   inward   hypocrisy,  is 


222 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


/ 


all  the  qualification,  applauded  in  the  one 
case,  avowed  in  the  other. 

Asp,  This  negative  goodness  (if  it  de- 
serves to  be  called  goodness)  was  a  plea  for 
the  empty  Pharisee.  But  none,  I  presume, 
would  choose  to  be  associated  with  such  a 
companion,  either  in  character  here,  or  in 
condition  hereafter. 

Samuel,  in  the  place  you  mention,  is  vin- 
dicating himself  only  to  his  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  only  in  the  capacity  of  a  magis- 
trate. He  speaks  not  of  his  justification 
before  the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead.  This 
he  well  knew  must  be  derived  from  another 
source,  and  must  rest  upon  a  firmer  bot- 
tom. 

The  "  Israelite  without  guile,"  was  a  per- 
son who  not  only  abstained  from  every  sin, 
but  performed  every  duty  ;  and  without  any 
wilful  neglect  of  the  one,  or  any  allowed 
indulgence  of  the  other.  This  instance, 
therefore,  will  by  no  means  prove  the  suf- 
ficiency of  your  negative  righteousness, 
which  seems  to  have  just  the  same  degree 
of  excellency  as  a  fountain  that  never  issues 
in  water,  or  as  a  cloud  that  never  descends 
in  rain. 

Ther.  In  this  particular,  Aspasio,  your 
sentiments  are  mine.  But  I  would  add 
morality  to  civility ;  the  virtuous  to  the  in- 
offensive conversation.  And  if  we  not  oidy 
cease  to  do  evil,  but  learn  to  do  well ;  if  we 
use  temperance,  exercise  charity,  and  keep 
all  the  commandments  to  the  best  of  our 
power,  is  not  this  a  sufficient  foundation  for 
our  hope  ? 

Asp.  Yes,  Theron ;  if,  as  you  add  mo- 
rality to  your  civility,  you  add  perfection  to 
both.  Othei-wise  you  must  be  ranked,  not 
among  the  claimants,  but  among  the  delin- 
quents. You  have  no  title  to  a  I'eward,  but 
stand  in  need  of  pardon. 

It  is  a  principle  of  justice,  founded  on  the 
unalterable  constitution  of  things,  that  the 
debtor  be  acquitted,  when  he  has  paid  the 
debt.  But  supposing  him,  instead  of  gold 
to  bring  iron  ;  instead  of  talents  to  return 
pence,  instead  of  defraying,  to  increase  the 
score  daily  ;  can  he  then  reasonably  expect, 
or  legally  claim  a  discharge  ? 

With  respect  to  such  an  obedience,  we 
may  pass  om-  verdict  in  the  figiu'ative,  but 
.  very  expressive  language  of  Isaiah  :  "  The 
bed  is  shorter  than  that  a  nian  can  stretch 
himself  on  it ;  and  the  covering  narrower 
than  that  he  can  wrap  himself  in  it."  (Isa. 
xxviii.  20.)  It  can  neither  give  rest  to  the 
alarmed  conscience,  nor  afford  protection  to 

■  the  guilty  soul.  If  we  have  nothing  better 
.to  plead,  we  shall  not  be  able  to  lift  up  our 

■  heads  in  the  last  decisive  judgment ;  "  but 
must  enter  into  the  rock,  and  hide  ourselves 
in  the  dust,  for  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  for 
the  glory  of  his  majesty."  (Isaiah  ii.  10.) 

Ther.  We  will  go  a  step  farther,  and  take 


in  the  exercise  of  devotion.  We  nil!  read 
God's  word,  pray  to  his  divine  Majesty,  and 
regularly  attend  on  his  public  worship. 
Here  now  are  socisd  accomplishments  and 
moral  virtues,  completed  by  the  performance 
of  I'eligious  duties. 

Asp.  Completed  !  I  fear  that  expression 
will  scarcely  abide  the  test  of  a  single  query. 
Have  you  then  performed  all  your  duties, 
with  that  ardent  love  of  God,  and  undivided 
view  to  his  gloiy ;  with  that  adoring  grati- 
tude to  the  blessed  Jesus,  and  that  child- 
like dependence  on  his  Spirit,  which  the 
nature  of  things  requires,  and  the  scriptures 
of  truth  enjoin  ?  If  not,  your  duties,  be  they 
moral  or  religious,  or  both,  are  far  from  be- 
ing  complete  ;  nay,  they  are  utterly  defec- 
tive, and  for  that  reason  absolutely  insuffi- 
cient for  your  justification.  They  are  clip- 
ped or  sophisticated  coin  ;  and  will  that  be 
current  in  the  world  of  glory  ? 

Ther.  Allowing  them  to  be  defective, 
they  are  at  least  sincere.  And  though  not 
free  from  all  alloy,  yet  if  they  bear  the  image 
and  superscription  of  integrity,  why  should 
they  be  rejected  as  "reprobate  silver?" 
(Jer.  vi.  30.)  Why  should  they  not  obtain 
the  currency  you  mention  ? 

Asp.  "  Alas  !"  says  a  judicious  and  admir- 
ed writer,  "  the  imperfections  of  our  best 
services  daily  forfeit  the  blessings  of  time. 
How  impossible  then  is  it,  that  the  sincerity 
of  them,  amidst  so  many  fraUties  and  de- 
fects, should  purchase  the  glories  of  eter- 
nity !" 

TTier.  Be  your  writer  ever  so  judicious, 
I  can  confront  him  wth  others,  equally  ca- 
pable of  judging,  and  diametrically  opposite 
in  opinion.  What  says  that  wise  and  brave 
man,  the  successor  of  Moses,  and  generalis- 
simo of  the  armies  of  Israel  ?  Joshua,  I  am 
sure,  declares  himself  on  my  side ;  "  Fear 
the  Lord,  and  serve  him  in  sincerity,"  is  his 
last  solemn  charge  to  the  people.  (Joshua 
xxiv.  14.)  Even  the  great  apostle,  on  a 
review  of  his  ministry,  makes  it  matter  of 
self-gratulation,  that  he  "  had  his  conversa- 
tion in  godly  sincerity."  (2  Cor.  i.  12.) 

Asp.  You  have  quoted  the  charge  de- 
livered by  the  servant ;  be  pleased  to  recol- 
lect the  protestation  made  by  the  master  : 
"  Not  for  thy  righteousness,"  says  Moses, 
"  or  for  the  uprightness  of  thy  heart,  dost 
thou  go  to  possess  their  land."  (Dent.  ix. 
3. )  Even  an  earthly  Canaan  was  not  given 
to  the  Israelites,  as  the  reward  of  their  own, 
either  outward  obedience  or  inward  sinceri- 
ty. Much  less  can  we  expect  the  kingdom 
of  immortality  on  account  of  any  upright- 
ness of  our  intentions,  or  piety  of  our  ac- 
tions. 

However,  as  the  doctrine  of  sincerity  is 
the  favourite  and  the  fashionable  tenet,  I 
will  conform  a  little  to  the  taste  in  vogue. 
You  shall  have  no  reason  to.  complain,  that 


DIALOGUE  VII. 


2i>;J 


I  Kill  either  a  cyiiic  or  a  stoic*  Let  it 
suflice  us  to  be  sincere ;  only  let  us  refer 
ourselves  to  the  apostle  for  a  description  of 
this  darling  qualification ;  "  That  ye  may  be 
sincere,  being  filled  with  the  fruits  of  right- 
eousness, which  are  by  Jesus  Christ,  unto 
the  praise  and  glory  of  God."  (Phil.  i.  JO, 
H.) 

Here  are  three  properties  of  acceptable 

sincerity It  must  bear  fruits,  "the  fruits 

of  righteousness  ;"  and  bear  them  abundant- 
ly, so  that  we  may  be  lilled  with  them.  The 
branch  and  the  fruits  must  derive, — that  its 
vigour,  these  their  tlavom',  and  both  of  them 
their  very  being — from  the  all-suppoiting, 
all-supplying  root  (yhrist  Jesus.  Then,  in- 
stead of  terminating  in  self-justification, 
they  must  redound  to  the  honour  of  God. 
It  is  not  said,  these  shall  justify  you,  but 
"  these  shall  glorify  your  father  which  is  in 
heaven." 

This  kind  of  sincerity  can  never  be  too 
highly  esteemed,  nor  too  zealously  encou- 
raged. But  this,  you  will  observe,  flows 
from  the  grace  of  Christ,  and  issues  in  the 
glory  of  God  ;  therefore  does  but  very  poor- 
ly attest,  either  the  sufficiency  of  human 
ability  to  perform  good  works,  or  the  suffi- 
ciency of  human  works  to  win  the  prize  of 
our  high  calling. 

Ther.  Do  you  then  exclude  all  works  ? 
Will  you  make  a  mere  nothing,  both  of  our 
moral  endowments,  and  of  your  evangelical 
obedience  ? 

Asp.  They  are  excluded,  both  the  one 
and  the  other,  fVom  all  share  in  justifying 
us  ;  yet  not  by  me,  but  by  an  authority  to 
which  there  can  be  no  objection,  and  from 
which  there  lies  no  appeal.  Speaking  of 
salvation,  thus  saith  the  wisdom  of  God, 
"  Not  of  works " 

Titer,  Works  of  the  ceremonial  law,  I 
suppose.  These,  we  all  acknowledge,  are 
under  the  Christian  dispensation,  as  a  bond 
cancelled  or  an  act  rejjealed.  But  sure  you 
will  allow  a  better  office,  and  a  nobler  cha- 
riicter  to  that  course  of  obedience  which  is 
regulated  by  the  commands  of  Christ. 

Asp.  St.  Paul  will  allow  it  no  such  office 
as  that  for  which  my  Theron  is  pleadmg. 
"  Ye  are  saved,"  says  the  apostle.  Ye  are 
delivered  from  wrath,  reconciled  to  God, 
and  made  heiis  of  his  kingdom.  How  ? 
"By  grace,  through  faith,"  (Eph.  ii.  8.) 
Grace,  like  a  magnificent  sovereign,  from 
the  riches  of  bis  own  bounty,  and  without 
any  respect  to  human  worthiness,  confers 
the  glorious  gift.  Faith,  like  an  indigent 
petitioner,  with  an  empty  hiuid,  and  without 
any  pretence  to  personal  desert,  receives  the 
lieavenly  blessing. 


*  The  cynic  had  no  comiilaisance,  the  stoic  u,- 
luite  inlkxiljle. 


Both  grace  and  faith  stand  in  direct  op- 
position   to    works,  all   works  whatever 

whether  they  be  works  of  the  law,  or  works 
of  the  gospel ;  exercises  of  the  heart,  or 
actions  of  the  life  ;  done  in  a  state  of  na- 
ture, or  done  under  the  influences  of  grace  ; 
they  are  all  and  every  of  them,  equally  set 
aside  in  tliis  great  affair. 

That  the  bill  of  exclusion  is  thus  exten- 
sive, or  rather  quite  unlimited,  appears  from 
the  reason  assigned  :  "  Lest  any  man  should 
boast,"  Eph.  ii.  9  ;  that  all  pretence  of 
glorying  may  be  cut  off  from  fallen  crea- 
tures ;  that  the  whole  honour  of  obtaining 
salvation  may  be  appropriated  to  him, 
"  who  hid  not  his  face  from  shame  and 
spitting." — And  is  he  not  worthy,  unspeak- 
ably and  infinitely  worthy,  to  receive  this 
unrivalled  honour  as  a  recompense  for  his 
unparalleled  humiliation  ? 

Ther.  All  our  good  works,  we  allow,  are 
recommended  by  Christ.  They  prevail  for 
our  justification  only  through  his  merits- 
So  that  we  still  depend  upon  the  Redeemer ; 
and,  by  this  means,  pay  him  the  highest 
honour. 

Asp.  Depend  upon  the  Redeemer !  No, 
my  dear  friend  ;  you  rely  upon  your  own 
pious  acts,  and  moral  qualifications.  They, 
they  are  your  grand  recommendation.  The 
office  consigned  over  to  the  divine  Jesus,  is 
nothing  more  than  to  be  (as  it  were)  master 
of  the  ceremonies.  He  may  have  the  credit 
of  inti-oducing  your  fine  accomplishments 
with  a  kind  of  gracefid  air.  But  is  this  an 
office  suited  to  his  incomparable  dignity  ? 
Was  it  for  this  that  he  bowed  the  heavens 
and  partook  of  our  nature  ?  Was  it  for  this 
that  he  became  subject  to  the  law,  and  obe- 
dient unto  death?  Only  for  this,  that  he 
might  usher  in  our  own  endowments  with 
a  plume  and  a  scarf  ?  Surely,  Therjn,  you 
can  never  entertain  such  low  thoughts  of 
the  incarnate  God,  and  of  Christ's  media- 
torial undertaking. 

Titer.  Neither  can  I  entertain  such  low 
and  vilifying  thoughts  of  our  own  virtuous 
attainments.  They  distinguish  persons  of 
eminence  and  worth  from  the  sordid  wretch, 
and  execrable  villain,  just  as  the  noble  fa- 
culty of  reason  distinguishes  the  man  from 
the  brute. 

Asp.  To  deny  good  works  the  merit  of 
justifying  us,  is  very  different  from  vilifying 
them.  You  are  going  to  build  a  new  house, 
'I'heron:  Pray,  do  you  intend  to  hew  your 
timber  from  the  flimsy  tendrils  of  the  vine  ? 

Ther.   No  certainly. 

Asp.  Because  you  do  not  think  its  feeble 
shoots  proper  to  form  the  benms,  and  sup- 
port the  roof,  of  your  intended  edifice  ;  do 
you  therefore  affront  them,  deiireciate  them, 
or  disallow  their  usefulness  ?  By  no  means. 
'I'licy  may  beautify  your  walls  with  their 
onuiriiental   spread,   and  enrich   the    desert 


224 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


with  their  delicious  fruit.  This  is  an  office 
suitable  to  the  iinture  of  the  plant  ;  and 
from  this  it  receives  sufficient  estimation, 
without  pretending  to  the  honours  of  the 
oak. 

Virluous  attainments,  I  owai,  are  a  con- 
siderable distinction  in  the  present  state  of 
tilings  ;  and,  what  is  a  higher  encomium, 
(I  shall  now  outshoot  you  in  your  own 
bow,)  they  will  distinguish  the  true  believer 
from  the  hyprocritical  professor,  even  at 
the  great  tribunal.  But  let  them  be  con- 
tent with  their  province,  and  not  intrude 
upon  the  Sa\-iour's  prerogative.  To  effect 
justification  be  his,  to  discriminate  the 
justified,  theirs.  Neither  let  them  elate 
their  possessors  with  a  vain  conceit  of 
themselves,  who,  though  they  were  meek 
as  Moses,  holy  as  Samuel,  and  wise  as 
Daniel,  must  confide  in  nothing  but  the 
boundless  mercies  of  the  Lord,  must  plead 
nothing  but  the  infinite  merits  of  his 
Christ. 

This  is  the  theology  both  of  the  Psalmist 
and  of  St.  Paul.  They  derive  the  bless- 
edness promised  in  scripture,  not  from  the 
shallow  stream  of  human  accomplishments, 
but  from  the  inexhaustible  ocean  of  divine 
grace  :  "  Blessed  is  he  whose  unrighteous- 
nesses are  forgiven,  and  whose  sins  are  co- 
vered."  (Psalm  xxxii.  1.) 

Ther.  Will  Aspasio  then,  like  many  of 
our  modem  disputants,  mutilate  the  holy 
word  ?  industriously  display  what  seems  to 
strengthen  his  argument,  but  artfully  secrete 
what  tends  to  overthrow  his  scheme  ?  How 
could  you  forget,  or  why  shoidd  you  sup- 
press the  following  clause,  "  and  in  whose 
spirit  there  is  no  guile."  Was  you  afraid 
it  would  demolish  your  opinion  ;  and  point 
out  an  upright  honest  mind  as  the  cause  of 
this  blessedness? 

Afip.  Vox  was  I,  my  dear  Thcron,  from 
any  such  groundless  apprehensions,  and 
equally  far  from  all  such  delusory  designs. 
"Shall  I  talk  deceitfully  for  God?"  (Job 
xiii.  7. )  His  sacred  cause  does  not  need  it, 
and  his  exalted  majesty  would  disdain  it. 
No,  I  would  coiidcnm  my  tongue  to  eternal 
silence,  rather  than  speak  a  syllable,  either 
to  conceal  or  disguise  the  truth. 

Most  readily  we  will  admit  the  sentence 
you  mention,  "  In  whose  spirit  there  is  no 
guile."  It  is  evident  from  the  context,  that 
these  words  are  not  descriptive  of  a  person 
in  whose  heart  and  conversation  there  is  no 
iniquity,  but  of  a  penitent  sinner,  whose 
mouth  freely  confesses  the  iniquity  of  them 
both,  confesses  without  any  reserve  or  the 
least  attempt  to  palliate  ;  which,  instead  of 
invalidating,  corroborates  my  argument, 
since,  according  to  your  own  allegation,  the 
liighest  merit  consists  in  a  free  acknow- 
hdgment  of  sin,  or  a  total  renunciation  of 
ail  worthiness. 


Ther.  When,  therefore,  we  join  rejient- 
ance  to  all  our  other  works,  lament  our  de- 
ficiencies, and  implore  forgiveness,  surely 
this  must  be  available  with  a  merciful  God, 
and  cannot  but  entitle  us  to  the  happiness 
of  heaven. 

Asp.  How  strange  does  it  soimd,  at  least 
in  my  ears,  for  poor  miserable  guilty  crea- 
tures, to  talk  of  entitling  themselves  to  the 
happiness  of  heaven  by  any  deeds  of  their 
owTi !  when  it  is  owing  wholly  to  God's 
rich  forbearing  mercy,  that  they  are  not 
transmitted  to  hell ;  owing  wholly  to  God's 
free  preventing  grace  that  they  are  enabled 
to  think  a  good  thought. 

But  not  to  enlarge  upon  this  considera- 
tion, I  would  ask,  whether  those  peniten- 
tial exercises  were  attended  with  a  hearty 
detestation  of  sin,  and  an  utter  abhorrence 
of  the  sinner?  (Ezek.  xxxvi.  31.)  If  they 
\^'ere,  you  would  then  renounce  yourself 
universally.  You  would  never  think  of 
placing  the  least  dependence  on  any  thing 
of  your  own,  nay,  you  woidd  even  loathe 
yourself.  If  they  were  not,  then  yom-  very 
repentance  falls  short,  and  is  to  be  repented 
of.  It  is  as  if  "  one  came  to  the  press-fat 
for  to  draw  out  fifty  vessels,  and  there  were 
but  twenty."  (Hag.  ii.  16.)  It  is,  if  I 
may  continue  the  prophet's  metaphor,  and 
the  prophet's  language,  "  the  scant  measure, 
which,"  in  this  your  spiritual  traffic,  as  well 
as  in  the  afl^airs  of  secular  commerce  "  is 
abominable."  (Micah  vi.  lO. ) 

Or,  should  3-our  repentance  be  without  a 
failure  and  without  a  flaw,  I  must  still  say 
to  my  friend,  as  our  Lord  replied  to  the 
young  ruler,  "one  thing  thou  lackest."  In 
all  these  acts  of  humiliation,  you  have  only 
taken  shame  to  yourself,  whereas  a  right- 
eousness is  wanting  which  may  magnify 
the  law  and  make  it  h.onourable.  Should 
God,  without  insisting  upon  this,  pardon 
and  reward,  he  would  not  act  according  to 
his  glorious  character,  nor  be  at  once  "a 
just  God  and  a  Saviour."  (Isaiah  xh'.  21.) 
And  if  you  can  find  this  righteousness, 
"  either  in  the  depth,  or  in  the  height 
above  ;"  in  any  person  or  any  object,  save 
only  in  the  imjiuted  obedience  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  I  retract  whatever  I  have  ad- 
vanced. 

Ther.  A  preacher  and  an  author  has 
lately  assured  us,  that  we  are  to  be  "  accept- 
ed of  God,  and  saved  by  our  own  obedi- 
ence." If  so,  I  need  not  scruple  to  repeat 
my  assertion,  that  our  own  duties,  especially 
when  accompanied  with  repentance,  are  a 
real  and  proper  foundation  for  life  eternal. 

Asp.  Then  the  apostle  was  under  a  great 
mistake,  when  treating  of  Christ  and  his 
merits,  he  ventured  to  assert,  "  other  foun- 
dation can  no  man  lay,  save  that  which  is 
laid,  even  Jesus  Christ."  (1   Cor.  iii.  11.) 

Ther.   If  vou  will  not   credit  a  modern 


DIALOGUE  VII. 


225 


prcaciier,  I  cun  produfe  a  decision,  made  by 
one  of  the  most  ancient  and  authoritative 
synods ;  "  Then  hath  God  also  to  the  Gen- 
tiles granted  repentance  unto  life."  (Acts 
xi.  18.)  Repentance  unto  life  is  their 
unanimous  voice,  and  my  unexceptionable 
voucher. 

Asp.  I  can  easily  guess  the  assembly  to 
which  you  refer.  But  I  can  hardly  grant 
it  the  venerable  name  of  a  synod.  It  con- 
sisted of  some  Judaizing  converts,  who 
adhered  with  a  tenacious  and  bigoted  zeal 
to  the  Mosaic  rites.  However,  though  I 
might  scruple  my  Theron's  appellation,  I 
readily  acquiesce  in  their  determination. 

It  is  not  said,  those  Gentiles  were  peni- 
tent, and  therefore  God  granted  them  life. 
This  should  have  been  the  language  of  the 
assembly,  in  order  jto  establish  my  friend's 
way  of  thinking.  On  the  contrary,  they 
were  dead  in  sin.  God,  of  his  free  good- 
ness, granted  them  repentance,  which  is 
both  the  beginning  and  a  substantial  part 
of  true  life,  even  of  tliat  life  which  is 
founded  cni  justification,  is  carried  on  by 
sanctification,  and  completed  in  glory. 

I  would  farther  observe,  that  repentance 
is  a  turning  of  the  heart.  And  when  it  is 
repentance  unto  life,  it  is  a  turning  of  the 
heart  from  every  other  object,  to  the  great 
and  sole  fountain  of  good,  Christ  Jesus. 
(Acts  xix.  4.) — Were  men  slaves  to  sensu- 
ality? AVlien  they  repent,  they  are  turned 
to  Christ,  for  refined  and  heavenly  afltc- 
tions.  Were  they  wont  to  confide  in  them- 
selves and  their  own  works  ?  As  soon  as 
they  truly  repent,  they  turn  to  Christ  for 
a  better  righteousness ;  and  thereby,  for 
everlasting  acceptance  with  God.  In  short, 
they  turn  from  every  false  stay,  and  fiy 
only  to  Christ,  depend  only  on  Christ,  look- 
ing not  to  their  own  tears  of  humiliation, 
not  to  their  own  duties  or  graces,  but  "  look- 
ing for  the  mercy  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
unto  eternal  life."  (Jude  "Jl.) 

TVier.  Suppose  it  should  be  wrong  to 
expect  such  a  vast  reward,  as  the  inconceiv- 
able glories  of  heaven,  on  account  of  our 
own  duties,  yet  to  set  them  wholly  aside, 
to  allow  them  no  influence  at  all,  not  so 
much  as  the  least  co-operation  in  turning 
the  scale  ;  this  is  an  access  on  the  other 
hand.  If  the  former  is  presumption,  the 
latter  is  fanaticism. 

Asp.  I  must  confess,  I  do  not  thoroughly 
understand  what  you  mean  by  fanaticism. 
Neither  is  it  of  much  significancy  to  enter 
upon  the  disquisition  of  an  obnoxious  term. 
I  would  only  maintain,  that  on  us  unworthy 
sinners,  whatever  is  bestowed  by  the  right- 
eous God,  is  bestowed,  not  as   a   debt*   to 


our   works,   but  as  the  donation   of  pure 
grace. 

T/ier.  I  think,  it  is  sufficiently  of  grace, 
if  we  acknowledge  good  works  to  be 
wrought  by  the  assistance  of  the  divine 
Spirit ;  and  then  admitted,  together  with 
our  Saviour's  merits,  as  a  recommendation 
to  the  divine  favour. 

Asp.  The  Pharisee  could  make  his  ac- 
knowledgments for  the  assistance  of  grace  -. 
"God,  I  thank  thee,"  was  his  language.  Yet 
this  did  not  exempt  him  from  the  charge  of 
]nide,  nor  secure  him  from  the  sin  of  boast- 
ing. Besides,  if  good  works  are  wrought  by 
the  operation  of  the  divine  Sjjirit,  tbeydraw 
a  bill  upon  our  gratitude,  not  upon  the  bank 
of  heaven  ;  they  render  us  the  obliged,  not 
the  deserving  party.  To  think  or  teacli 
otherwise,  is  errant  popery,*  however  it 
may  lurk  under  a  veil  of  Protestantism. 

You  bring  to  my  mind  a  memorable 
story.  Two  persons  were  travelling  througli 
the  deserts  of  Arabia-  The  one  utterly 
unarmed,  the  other  wore  a  sword  and  car- 
ried a  nuisket.  As  the  place  was  exceed- 
ingly dangei'ous,  the  latter,  solicitous  for 
the  safety  of  his  companion,  makes  him  a 
jiresent  of  his  firearms  ;  which  was  no 
sooner  done,  than  a  lion  espies  them,  and 
advances  fiercely  towards  them.  The  for- 
most  discharges  liis  piece,  and  wounds  their 
horrid  aggressor.  The  wound  neither  kill- 
ing nor  disabling,  only  enrages  the  mon- 
ster. He  seizes  the  unfortunate  marksman, 
and  is  upon  the  point  to  tear  him  limb  from 
limb.  His  fellow-traveller  flies  to  his  suc- 
cour,' snatches  up  the  carbine,  which  dropt 
fi'om  the  other's  hand,  and  fells  the  raven- 
ous beast  to  the  ground  ;  then,  drawing  his 
sword,  stabs  him  to  the  heart,  and  rescues 
his  friend. 

The  lion  thus  slain,  they  take  off  the 
skin,  which  he  who  slew  the  lordly  sa\age 
claims  as  his  own.  "  No,"  says  his  grateful 
friend,  "  as  you  did  part  of  the  execution 
with  my  weapon,  I  insist  upon  half  of  the 
shaggy  spoil.  I  expect  satisfaction  likewise 
for  the  loss  of  my  piece,  which  you  broke 
in  the  encounter."  To  obtain  both,  he  com. 
mences  a  law-suit  against  that  generous  as- 
sociate, who  not  oidy  gave  him  the  weapon, 
but  saved  the  prosecutor  from  the  very  jaws 
of  destiuction. 

Tlicr.  If  I  had  been  judge,  I  shoidd, 
without  much  hesitation,  have  determined 
such  a  cause.  Instead  of  costs  and  da- 
mages for  my  plaintiff,  I  should  have  trans- 
mitted the  wretch  to  the  jiillory. 

A.ip.  I  believe  all  the  world  would  ap- 
plaud your  sentence.  Only  be  pleased  to 
remember,  that  the  procedure  on  which  you 


•  iiestoived  nx  a  rli-hf,  is,  I  must  allow,  somewhat 
like  jargon.  But  perhaps  jargon  and  inconsistency 
may  not  be  without  their  propriety  in  this  place,  as 
they  tend  to  show  the  genius  of  that  doctrine  which 
would  connect  such  contradictory  ideas. 


♦  Good  works,  says  a  champion  for  the  church  of 
Rome,  are  "  mercatura  regni  ccelcstis, — the  price  we, 
pay,  or  the  commodity  we  barter,  for  the  kingdom 
of  heaven. 

Q 


226 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO 


so  justly  animadvert,  is  the  very  picture  of 
our  excessive  unreasonableness,  if  we  pre- 
sume to  write  ourselves  creditors,  and  the 
divine  Being  debtor ;  because  he  has  de- 
livered us  from  the  bondage  of  corruption, 
and  enabled  us  to  perform  the  duties  of 
godliness. 

Theron  paused,  as  somewhat  struck  by 
the  representation.  After  a  short  interval, 
Aspasio  resumed  the  discourse. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  friend,  salvation, 
both  in  the  root  and  all  its  branches,  is  en- 
tirely of  grace.  Or  else  believe  me,  for 
the  many  cogent  testimonies  of  scripture, 
which  most  circumstantially  ascertain  this 
great  truth.  Election  is  of  grace  :  "  Hav- 
ing predestinated  us  into  the  adoption  of 
ehildi'en,"  not  on  account  of  human  worthi- 
ness, but,  "according to  the  good  pleasure  of 
his  will,  (Eph.  i.  3.)  Equally  gratuitous  is 
our  effectual  vocation  :  "  God  hath  called  us 
with  an  holy  calling,  not  according  to  oiu" 
works,  but  according  to  his  purpose  and 
grace,"  (2  Tim.  i.  9. )  Faith,  with  all  its 
precious  fruits,  is  owing  to  the  same  cause  -. 
*'  By  grace  ye  are  saved  through  faith," 
(Eph.  ii.  8.)  From  hence  springs  justifi- 
cation, together  with  all  its  attendant  pri- 
vileges :  "  Being  justified  freely  by  his 
grace."*  This  is  the  origin  of  regeneration, 
and  every  living  principle  of  godliness : 
"  Of  his  own  wiU  begat  he  us  by  the  word 
of  truth,"  (Jam  i.  18.)  The  consummation 
of  bliss  flows  from  the  same  all-supplying 
source  -.  "  The  gift  of  God  is  eternal  life," 
(  Rom.  \d.  23. )  It  is,  in  every  respect,  a 
gift,  not  only  without,  but  contraiy  to  all 
desert  of  ours. — So  that  the  foundation  is 
laid  in  the  riches  of  grace  ;  the  superstruc- 
tm-e  is  reared  by  the  hand  of  grace,  and 
when  the  top- stone  is  brought  forth,  when 
our  felicity  is  completed  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  the  everlasting  acclamation  will  be, 
"  Grace,  grace  unto  it !"  (Zech.  iv.  7.) 

This  is  that  glorious  gospel,  which  hu- 
man learning  could  never  have  discovered  ; 
which  carnal  reason  cannot  understand ; 
which  the  wisdom  of  this  world  accounteth 
foolishness  ;  which  the  en\y  of  the  devil, 
and  the  pride  of  man,  will   alwaj^s  oppose. 

Ther.  What  say  you  to  the  opinion  which 
Ouranius  so  strenuously  maintains,  that  we 
are  justified,  not  by  the  merits  of  Christ 
imputed  to  us,  but  by  Christ  himself  form- 
ed in  our  hearts  ?  And  Ouranius  is  none 
of  your  proud  or  carnal  people.  His  writ- 
ings are  remarkable  for  their  strict  piety, 
and  his  life  is  as  exemplary  as  his  princi- 
ples. 


*  Rom.  Hi.  24.  An'jsav  T>I  aurs  ^a^iri.  One 
of  these  words  might  have  served  to  convey  the 
apostle's  meaning.  But  he  doubles  his  assertion,  in 
order  to  give  us  the  fullest  conviction  of  the  truth, 
and  to  impress  tis  with  a  sense  of  its  peculiar  import- 
ance; "  Freely  by  hisgiace." 


Asp.  You  know,  Theron,  I  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  persons  of  men,  but  with  the 
truths  of  the  gospel.  Ouranius,  though 
eminently  devout,  may  be  mistaken  :  And 
if  this  is  his  way  of  thinking,  he  quite  mis- 
apprehends the  doctrine  of  grace- 

What  is  written  in  the  oracles  of  scrip- 
ture ?  "  The  Lord  justifieth  the  ungodly," 
(Rom.  iv.  5.)  What  is  implied  in  the 
maxim  of  Ouranius  ?  He  justifieth  the 
holy,  the  heavenly,  the  Christ-like. — "  A 
man  is  justified  by  faith,"  (Rom.  v-  1,)  says 
the  secretary  of  heaven.  He  is  justified  by 
works,  says  the  pen  of  Ouranius  -.  only  let 
them  be  works  of  a  superior  order,  such  as 
are  internal,  spiritual,  and  wrought  by  the 
operation  of  Christ  on  the  soul. — Accord- 
ing to  this  notion,  every  one  is  justified  by 
his  o^\Tr  love,  his  own  jxirity,  his  own  zeal. 
Whereas,  an  unerring  writer  has  most  so- 
lemnly declared,  "  that  by  one  man's  obe- 
dience, many  myriads  of  sinners,  even  all 
the  redeemed  world,  shall  be  made  righte- 
ous." (Rom.  V.  19.) 

This  notion,  I  think,  is  legalism  in  its 
gi'eatest  subtilty,  or  highest  refinement.  It 
disannuls  the  merit  of  Christ,  it  vacates  all 
imputation,  and  makes  our  salvation  to  con- 
sist wholly  in  the  work  of  sanctification. 
Against  which,  if  you  remember,  I  entered 
my  protest  in  one  of  our  first  conferences." 
And  now,  having  ventured  to  animadvert 
on  the  tenets  of  others,  it  may  reasonably 
be  expected,  that  I  should  give  an  account 
of  my  ova\  faith. — "  I  am  justified ;  my  soul 
is  accepted  ;  not  because  Christ  has  put  his 
laws  in  my  mind,  but  shed  his  blood  for  my 
sins  ;  not  because  I  myself  am  enabled  to 
walk  in  all  godly  conversation,  but  because 
the  Lord  Jesus  has  fidfiUed  all  righteous- 
ness as  my  siuety." 

Tlier.  1  am  for  neither  of  the  extremes. 
The  middle  way  is  most  eligible.  This  is 
what  sound  sense  approves,  and  the  sacred 
system  authorizes,  "  Whoso  believeth  on 
me,"  says  our  Lord,  "  shall  not  perish,  but 
shall  have  everlasting  life,"  (John  iij.  13.) 
"  Blessed,"  adds  the  beloved  disciple,  "  are 
they  who  do  his  commandments ;  that  they 
may  have  a  right  to  the  tree  of  life ;  and 
may  enter  in,  through  the  gates,  into  the 
city,  (Rev.  xxii.  14.) 

Conformably  to  these  texts  of  scripture, 
I  would  neither  reject  our  Redeemer's  me- 
rits nor  repudiate  good  works.  As  this 
shady  tree,  and  these  cooling  breezes,  unite 
their  properties,  to  render  our  situation 
agreeable  ;  so  those  two  causes,  acting  in 
conjunction,  exalt  us  to  tlie  favour  of  God, 
and  constitute  us  heirs  of  heaven.  God 
himself  has  joined  them.  And  I  must  urge 
my  remonstrance  in  oiu'  Lord's  own  words. 


«  See  Dialogue  II.  p.  IGU. 


DIALOGUE  VII. 


227 


"  ^V'hat  God  hath  joined  together,  let  no  man 
put  asunder." 

Asp.  Would  you  then  make  impotence 
itself  a  coadjutor  with  omnipotence  ?  does 
this  humble  the  sinner?  does  this  exalt  the 
Saviour?  No:  it  is  a  most  injurious  in- 
fringement of  his  mediatorial  dignity.  In- 
stead of  excluding,  it  endently  introduces 
boasting.  In  consequence  of  such  a 
scheme,  it  would  be  said  by  the  inhabitants 
of  the  heaveidy  world,  "  Thanks  to  our 
blc-ssed  Redeemer  for  this  happiness !  yet 
not  to  him  only,  but  to  our  own  righteous- 
ness also. 

Can  you  imagine,  that  the  obedience  of 
Christ  is  instifficient  to  accomplish  our  jus- 
tification? Must  its  efficacy  be  reinforced 
by  the  accession  of  our  works  ?  And  what 
are  these  works  of  ours,  that  they  should 
enhance  the  value,  the  immense  value  of 
our  Redeemer's  ?  Maimed,  tarnished,  worm- 
eaten  things  :  eaten  by  the  worms  of  self- 
seeking,  self-admiring,  self-love  ;  tarnished 
by  a  thousand  vanities,  maimed  by  ten 
thousand  negligences.  To  join  these  in 
commission  with  our  di\dne  Master's  right- 
eousness, would  be  infinitely  more  disgi'ace- 
ful  than  to  tack  the  beggar's  rag  on  the  mo- 
narch's robe  ;  would  be  altogether  as  need- 
less as  to  dream  of  augmenting  the  sea  by 
the  drops  of  our  bucket. 

Tker.  Worm-eaten  ?  What  reason  have 
you  to  represent  our  acts  of  obedience 
under  this  sordid  and  shameful  image  ? 

Asp.  I  thought  you  could  hardly  brook 
this  disparaging  expression.  It  is  somewhat 
like  petty  treason  against  the  dignity  of 
man.  My  reasons  I  would  postpone  to 
some  other  opportunity,  when  if  you  please 
we  will  give  the  cause  a  full  hearing. 

At  present,  to  make  amends  for  this  vile 
slander,  I  will  suppose  j-our  works  to  have 
no  defect ;  nay  to  have  all  the  perfection 
which  you  yourself  could  wish.  Will  you 
glory  on  this  account?  You  are  too  mo- 
dest, I  am  sure,  to  avow  or  patronize  such 
a  practice  ;  yet,  if  we  say  or  think  concern- 
ing any  attainments  of  our  own,  "  This  is 
the  gi'ound  on  which  I  expect  to  escape  con- 
demnation, and  inherit  life  ;"  we  do,  in  the 
most  ofi'ensive,  though  not  in  the  most  ex- 
plicit manner,  glory.* 

Or,  will  you  reckon,  that  these  services, 
because  faultless,  are  in  any  degree  merito- 
rious? Let  us  hear  our  Lord's  decision  in  the 
case :  "  When  ye  have  done,"  not  only 
some, "  but  all  those  things  which  are  com- 


X  "  Omnis  causa  justitiae  et  salutis  est  materia  et 
objectura  xcivxicic-i;.  Unde  apostolus :  Nam  si  Abra- 
ham ex  operibus  justificatus  est,  tx^"^'^" XlF-<^  '" 
t.  e.  Whatever  is  the  cause  of  righteousness  and  sal- 
vation, is  a  real  and  proper  foundation  for  glorying. 
Therefore  the  apostle  acknowledges,  "If  Abraham 
were  justified  by  works,  he  hath  whereof  to  glory." 
Rom.  iv.  2. 


manded  you."  And  where  is  the  man,  or 
what  is  his  name,  who,  in  any  nation,  or  iti 
any  age,  has  doih;  all  that  is  commanded  ?  . 

Where  shall  I  find  him  ?  .Angels,  tell  me  where? 
Shall  I  see  glories  beaming  from  his  brow  ? 
Or  trace  his  footsteps  by  the  rising  (lowers  ? 

Yet  even  in  such  a  case,  if  all  this  were 
performed,  what  shall  we  say  ?  We  are  no 
better  than  unprofitable  servants ;  we  have 
done  nothing  more  tlian  what  was  our  in- 
dispensable duty  to  do,  (Luke  xvii.  10.) 
And  have,  on  this  footing,  just  the  same 
claim  to  honours  and  rewards,  as  the  negro 
slave,  after  the  despatch  of  his  daily  busi- 
ness, has  upon  the  estate  or  the  wealth  of 
an  American  planter. 

Ther.  But  what  say  you  to  those  pas- 
sages of  scripture  which  I  have  quoted  ? 
You  have  given  them  a  hearing,  but  no  an- 
swer. They,  I  do  insist  upon  it,  expressly 
assert,  therefore  incontestably  prove,  an 
union  of  Christ's  merit  and  our  own  works 
in  the  business  of  salvation. 

Asp.  It  is  written  in  the  book  of  Revela- 
tion, "  Blessed  are  they  that  do  his  com- 
mandments." And  wherefore  ?  Because  the 
obedience  of  faith  is  attended  with  a  real 
blessedness  on  earth,  and  demonstrates  our 
title  to  eternal  blessedness  in  heaven.  It 
is,  though  not  the  purchase,  yet  the  evidence 
of  our  right  to  the  tree  of  life. 

All  this  I  acknowledge.  But  where,  I 
beseech  you,  does  the  scripture  join  the 
obedience  of  Christ  and  the  obedience  of 
man,  as  mutually  conducive  to  the  justifica- 
tion of  a  sinner  ?  The  scripture  utterly  dis- 
avows such  a  copartnership,  and  asserts 
what  our  homily  expresses,  "  surely,  there 
can  be  no  work  of  any  mortal  man  (be  he 
ever  so  holy)  that  shall  be  coupled  in  inerit 
with  Christ's  most  holy  act."*  The  scrip- 
ture steadily  declares,  that,  in  this  greatest 
of  transactions,  Christ  is  not  an  accessary, 
but  the  principal ;  nay  that  he  is  all.  "  Be 
It  known  unto  you,  men  and  brethren,  that, 
through  this"  illustrious  and  exalted  "  per- 
son,-f-  is  preached  unto  you  the  forgiveness 
of  sins  ;  and  by  him  all  that  believe  are 
justified  from  all  things."  Through  this 
person,  without  any  partner  or  coadjutor. 
By  him  ;  not  by  him  and  our  works  jointly, 
but  by  him  solely  ;  without  the  concurrence 
of  any  other  action  or  any  other  agent. 
This  was  typified  by  the  high-priest,  when, 
on  the  solemn  day  of  expiation,  he  went 
into  the  tabernacle  alone,  and  made  the  fi- 
gurative atonement  without  any  associate, 
(Lev.  xvi.  17.)  From  all  things  :  by  hiiu 
they  are  wholly,  as  well  as  solely  justified  ; 


§  Homily  on  Good  Friday. 

t  Acts  xiii  38.  Aia  tsts,  the  word  man  is  not  in 
the  original.  So  that  I  think,  "  this  illustrious  and 
exKliPrt  person,"  is  the  fuUe.'-t  and  most  exact  trans- 
lation. 


228 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


freed  from  every  charge,  \\hetlu>r  of  oniis- 
bion  or  commission,  and  rendered,  not  in 
])art  only,  but  completely  jirceptable. 

I  hope,  therefore,  you  will  no  longer  con- 
sider the  supremely  excellent  Jesus  as  a 
partial  cause  of  our  justification.  What 
would  be  the  consequence,  if  a  person 
should  fix  one  foot  on  the  bank  of  yonder 
river,  and  rest  another  on  the  iluid  stream? 
Ther.  He  must  unavoidably  fall. 
Asp.  A  nd  what  says  our  divine  instructor 
to  those  double-minded  Galatians,  \\ho 
could  not  believe  themselves  safe  and  com- 
plete in  the  merits  of  Christ  alone,  but 
must  be  seeking  some  other  foundation,  on 
which  to  repose  a  share  at  least  of  their 
confidence  ?  He  says,  and  they  are  awful 
words ;  they  call  for  my  Theron's  most 
serious  regard,  "  ye  are  fallen  from  grace." 
(Gah  V.  4.) 

Let  me  entreat  my  friend  to  beware  of 
this  error.  I  think  it  is  the  prevailing 
error  of  our  times ;  and  so  much  the  more 
dangerous,  because  it  is  somewhat  specious. 
To  pour  contempt  upon  the  blessed  Jesus, 
with  the  libertines  and  deists,  would  be 
shocking  to  a  mind  that  retains  the  least 
reverence  for  sacred  things.  Entirely  to 
set  aside  the  meritorious  efficacy  of  his  im- 
dertaking,  with  the  Arians  and  the  Soci- 
nians,  would  be  afflictive  to  a  conscience 
that  is  impressed  with  the  least  sense  of 
sin.  Whereas,  to  erect  our  merits  on  the 
foundation  of  Christ's ;  to  be  found  in  his, 
yet  not  renounce  our  own  righteousness  ; 
this  is  both  plausible  to  our  reason,  and  pleas- 
ing to  om'  vanity  ;  this  seems  to  honour  the 
divine  Saviour,  even  while  it  gratifies  hu- 
man pride.  But  this  is  an  egregrious  false- 
hood, and  cannot  stand  :  This  is  an  abomin- 
able idol,  and  must  be  laid  in  the  dust. 
Christ,  like  the  real  mother  of  the  child, 
will  have  the  whole  or  none,  (1  Kings  iii. 
26.)  the  whole — unshared,  inu'ivalled,  lui- 
diminished  glory  of  our  salvation. 

Let  me  again  entreat  my  dear  Theron  to 
beware  of  this  error.  It  is  the  main  pillar 
in  the  Roman  heresy,  and  the  master-policy 
of  the  Popish  Machiavilians.  Christ  hath 
merited,  that  we  may  merit,  is  their  grand 
maxim,  and  their  grand  delusion.  Hence 
come  their  penances  and  their  pilgrimages, 
hence  the  hj-pocritical  mortifications  of  some, 
and  the  extravagant  austerities  of  others  ; 
this  enriches  their  shrines,  and  fills  their 
cloisters.  And  to  those  seminaries  of  su- 
perstition let  it  be  banished,  let  it  be  con- 
fined. There  let  them  raise  their  scaffold- 
ing, and  try  to  enlarge  the  dimensions  of  the 
sky ;  there  let  them  kindle  their  flambeaux 
and  attempt  to  increase  the  lustre  of  the 
sun.  And  when  they  have  effected  this 
easier  task,  then  will  we  Protestants  fol- 
low their  example,  and  adopt  their  system  ; 
then  will  we  also  think  of  adding  our  own 


righteousness,  by  way  of  siFppleraent  to  tJie 
dignity  and  efficacy  of  our  Lord's. 

Ther.  If  we  are  justified  wholly  by  our 
Lord's  righteousness  ;  if  nothing  need  be 
added,  if  jiothing  can  be  added  to  its  all- 
conijjrehending  fulness,  what  becomes  of 
the  generally-received  opinion,  that  Christ 
obtained  for  us  only  a  possibility  of  being 
saved,  or  put  us  into  a  capacity  of  acquir- 
ing salvation. 

Afip.  It  will  be  discountenanced  and  over- 
thrown, as  extremely  dishonourable  to  the 
Redeemer,  and  no  less  uncomfortable  to  the 
redeemed.  When  Christ  procured  our  par- 
don, and  recovered  our  title  to  life,  it  v.'as 
all  his  own  doing.  "  Of  the  people  there 
was  none  with  him,"  (Isa.  Ixiii.  6.)  In 
both  cases  his  work  was  perfect.  Hear  his 
o\\'n  testimony  :  "  I  have  finished  the  work 
which  thou  gavest  me  to  do,"  (John  xvii. 
4.)  Should  you  want  an  explication  of 
these  words,  1  refer  you  to  the  comment  of 
an  apostle  :  "  He,  that  is,  Jesus  Christ,  has 
obtained  eternal  redemption  for  us,"  (Heb. 
ix.  12.)  This  was  his  work,  and  it  is  fidly 
executed.  He  has — he  has  obtained  eter- 
nal redemption ;  and  left  nothing  for  his 
people,  but  to  accept  the  glorious  purchase, 
and  live  as  becomes  the  redeemed  of  the 
Lord. 

This  tnith  is  written,  as  with  a  simbeam, 
in  the  pages  of  the  gospel ;  and  sounds,  as 
with  a  voice  of  thunder,  in  the  songs  of 
heaven.  "  Salvation  to  our  God,"  they  cry, 
"  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  to  the 
Lamb,"  (Rev.  vii.  10.)  Those  saints  in 
glory  ascribe  the  whole — the  whole  of  their 
salvation  they  ascribe  to  the  grace  of  God, 
and  to  the  blood  of  the  Lamb. 

Ther.  Have  not  many  of  our  ablest  di- 
vines represented  faith,  obedience,  and  re- 
pentance, as  the  terms  of  acceptance  ? 
Christ,  according  to  this  account,  procured 
not  the  blessing  itself,  but  only  the  grant  of 
easier  conditions  on  which  it  may  be  enjoyed. 

Asp.  What  says  that  sublime  Being  vs'ho 
gives  the  ablest  divines  all  their  wisdom  ? 
"  My  righteous  servant  shall  justify  many," 
(Isa.  liii.  11.)  not  pave  the  way,  or  adjust 
the  preliminaries,  but  despatch  the  veiy  bu- 
siness ;  "  shall  justify."  The  terras  of  ac- 
ceptance, for  fallen  and  rebellious  man, 
were  a  full  satisfaction  to  the  Divine  jus- 
tice, and  a  complete  conformity  to  the  di- 
vine law.  These,  impracticable  by  us,  were 
consigned  over  to  Christ.  By  him  they 
were  thoroughly  accomplished ;  and  by  this 
accomplishment  of  them,  he  purchased  for 
us  all  blessings.  Among  others,  he  pur- 
chased the  gift  of  faith,  the  grace  of  repent- 
ance, and  ability  to  yield  thankful,  dutiful, 
evangelical  obedience.  These,  therefore, 
are  very  improperly  called,  the  terms  which 
are  really  constituent  parts  of  our  salva- 
tion. 


DIALOGUE  VII. 


229 


To  sum  up  all  in  a  word— the  whole 
tenor  of  revelation  shows,  that  there  are  but 
two  methods  whereby  any  of  the  human 
race  can  be  justified  :  Either  by  a  perfect 
obedience  to  the  law,  in  their  own  persons  ; 
and  then  the  reward  is  of  debt :  * — Or  else, 
because  the  Surety  of  a  better  covenant  has 
satisfied  all  demands  in  their  stead  ;  and 
then  the  reward  is  of  grace.  There  is  no 
trimming  or  reconciling  expedient  You  may 
choose  either  of  the  two  ;  but  no  tliird  is 
proposed  or  allowed. 

Thcr.  Was  there  not  a  different  method 
for  the  ancient  people  of  God? 

Asp.  None,  Theron.  In  the  state  of 
primitive  innocency,  a  perfect  and  persever- 
ing observance  of  the  divine  command  was 
the  condition  of  life  and  immortality. 
When,  by  the  fu'st  grand  apostacy,  this  be- 
came impossible,  a  free  pardon,  and  gracious 
acceptance,  through  the  blessed  Jesus,  were 
substituted  in  its  stead.  Which  economy, 
like  a  fountain  of  life,  was  opened,  when 
God  promised  "  the  seed  of  the  woman  to 
bruise  the  serpent's  head,"  (Gen.  iii..  25.) 
It  ran  like  a  salutaiy  rivulet  through  the 
antediluvian  world  ; — continued  its  progress 
along  the  patriarchial  age ; — flowed,  in 
broader  streams,  under  the  JNIosaic  dispen- 
sation.;— is  derived  down  to  us,  abundantly 
enlarged,  by  the  coming  of  Gluist,  and  the 
ministry  of  his  apostles  ; — will  be  transmit- 
ted with  an  increasing  spread  to  the  latest 
posterity  ; — nor  ever  cease  to  amplify  and 
extend  its  influence,  till,  as  the  fountain  is 
become  a  river,  the  river  is  augmented  into 
an  ocean ;  and  "  the  knowledge  of  the 
Lord"  our  righteousness  "  fill  the  earth,  as 
the  waters  cover  the  abysses  of  the  sea," 
(Isa.  xi.  9.) 

There  was,  I  confess,  a  diversity  in  the 
administration,  but  no  difference  in  the  na- 
ture, of  the  blessing.  Jesus  Christ,  how- 
ever variously  manifested,  was  the  "  same 
yesterday,"  is  the  same  "  to-day,"  will  be 
the  same  "  for  ever,"  (  Heb.  xiii.  8.)  as  it  is 
the  very  same  sun  which  gleams  at  eai-ly 
dawn,  which  seines  in  the  advancing  day, 
and  glows  at  height  of  noon. 

My  simile  reminds  us  of  the  time,  and 
leaves  a  most  important  doctrine  upon  our 
memories.  Sup])ose  we  take  the  admo- 
nition, and  begin  to  move  homeward. 

Ther.  We  need  be  m  no  hurry,  Aspiisio. 
IVIy  watch  tells  me,  that  we  have  h;ilf  an 
hour  good.  Besides,  I  have  something  far- 
ther to  allege,  and  from  a  very  great  autho- 
rity, which  seems  directly  contrary  to  yoiu' 
notion. 

Asp.  Just  as  you  please,  Theron.  If  you 
choose   to  stay,  I  am   all  compliance  with 


*  Rom  iv.  4.  Pactional  ilebt ;  fnunded  on  the  pro- 
misp  of  tliecovenanl,  not  sjirin^ing  from  any  worth  in 
the  obedience. 


your  iiu-lination ;  and,  would  truth  i)er- 
mit,  I  shoidd  be  all  conformity  to  your  opi- 
nion. 

Ther.  You  know  who  it  is  that  asks, 
"  What  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee  ?" 
And  neither  of  tis  need  be  informed,  what 
it  is  that  the  j)rophet  replies  ;  "  Do  justice, 
love  mercy,  and  walk  hiunbly  wth  thy 
God,  (Mic.  vi.  8.)  But  I  want  to  know 
what  you  think  of  this  passage. 

Asp.  I  think  it  is  absolutely  inconsistent 
with  yom-  scheme.  This  passage  inciU- 
cates  humility.  But  your  scheme  is  the 
very  reverse  of  that  amiable  virtue.  A  self- 
justiciary  walking  humbly  with  God,  is 
little  better  than  a  contradiction  in  terms. 

The  liord  has  said,  "  Ye  shall  be  saved 
by  grace."*  Yom-  system  replies,  "  No,  but 
by  oiu-  o^vll  works. — It  is  declared  in  scrip- 
ture, "  that  the  gift  of  God  is  eternal  life." 
It  is  implied  in  my  friend's  doctrine,  that 
this  happiness  is  the  wages  of  our  own 
deeds — "  My  son  shall  have  all  the  glory 
of  a  sinner's  salvation,"  is  the  unalter- 
able decree  of  the  Most  High.  "  We  will 
have  a  share  in  the  honour,"  is  the  language 
of  yoiu-  opinion — Look,  how  wide  there- 
fore is  the  east  from  the  west !  so  remote 
is  such  a  strain  of  teaching  from  the  prac- 
tice of  walking  humbly  with  our  God. 

Ther.  But  consider,  good  Aspasio  ;  have 
I  not  the  prophet's  authorit)'  for  my  opi- 
nion? Are  not  his  words  expressly  on  my 
side?  does  he  not  mention  those  duties  of 
morality  and  piety  as  the  appointed  method 
of  obtaining  the  divine  favour. 

Asp.  He  mentions,  I  a])prehend,  a  soli- 
citous inrpiiry  ;  to  which  he  gives  a  satisfac- 
tory answer ;  then  subjoins  a  practical  im- 
provement of  the  whole.  The  inquiry  is 
expressed  in  these  words  ;  "  Wlierewithal 
shall  I  come  before  the  Lord,  and  bow  my- 
self before  the  high  God  ?  Shall  I  come  be- 
fore hhn  witli  bm-nt-offerings,  with  cid\es 
of  a  year  old  ?  AVill  the  Lord  be  pleased 
\nth  thousands  of  rams  ;  with  ten  thousands 
of  rivers  of  oil  ?  Shall  I  give  my  first-born 
for  my  transgression,  the  fruit  of  my  body 
for  the  sin  of  my  soul  ?"  (  Mic.  \-i  7,  8. )  To 
which  it  is  replied,  "  He  hath  showed  thee, 
O  man,  what  is  good,"  for  this  important 
purjiose  ;  namely,  the  Messiah  ;  pointed  out 
by  all  thy  sacrifices,  and  described  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapter.  Atonement  for  sin,  and 
peace  with  God.  are  to  be  made  by  a  better 
hand,  and  in  a  better  way,  than  thou  pro- 
posest.  He  "  whose  outgoings  have  been 
from  of  old,  from  everlasting,"  (^lic.  v.  2.) 
He,  who  is  the  Son  of  the  highest,  and  yet 


*  Kph.  ii.  ri.  This  text  lays  tfie  axe  to  the  very  root 
of  spiritual  pride,  and  all  self-glorying  whatever. 
Therefore,  the  in.spired  writer,  foreseeing  the  back- 
wardness of  mankind  to  receive  it,  yet  knowing  the 
absolute  necessity  of  its  reception,  again  asserts  (ver. 
H.)  the  very  same  truth  in  the  very  same  words. 


280 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


the  seed  of  "  her  that  travaileth  ;''  (Mic  v. 
3.)  He  has  undertaken,  and  will  fully  exe- 
cute, this  great  office. 

"  And  what  doth  the  Lord  thy  God  re- 
quire of  thee  ?"  AVhat  temper,  what  con- 
duct, what  expressions  of  gratitude,  from 
his  people,  who  are  reconciled  through  the 
blood  of  Christ,  and  admitted  to  the  bless- 
ings of  the  new  covenant.*  They  ai'e  to 
testify  their  thankfulness,  by  the  alacrit}% 
uniformity,  and  constancy  of  their  obedi- 
ence ;  or  by  the  conscientious  discharge  of 
every  moral,  social,  and  religious  duty. 

If  this  be  a  true  interpretation  of  the  text, 
instead  of  establishing,  it  overturns  your 
cause. — But  I  have  another  objection  to 
your  method,  perhaps  more  weighty  than  the 
foregoing. 

Ther.  Pray,  let  me  hear  it. — I  am  not  so 
enamoured  with  my  notions,  but  I  can  bear 
to  have  them  censm'ed  ;  nor  so  attached  to 
my  scheme,  but  I  can  relinquish  it  for  a 
better. 

Asp.  I  would  illustrate  my  meaning,  by 
a  common  experiment  in  optics.  When  ob- 
jects are  viewed  in  a  concave  speculum,  or 
in  the  hollow  of  a  polished  spoon,  how  do 
they  appear  ? 

Ther.  Inverted. 

Asp.  Such  is  iiiy  friend's  system  of  reli- 
gion. He  inverts  the  order  of  the  gospel : 
Hetiuns  the  beautiful  building  upside  dowm, 
and  lays  that  for  the  foundation  which 
should  only  be  part  of  the  superstructure. 
Not  so  the  apostle  Paid.  He,  like  a  wise 
master-builder,  places  Christ  as  the  foun- 
dation-stone, and  rears  his  edifice  of  prac- 
tical godliness  on  that  all-supporting  basis. 
— Examine  his  epistle  to  the  Romans ; 
which  is  unquestionably  the  completest  mo- 
del of  doctrine,  and  the  noblest  body  of 
divinity  extant  in  the  world. 

He  first  discovers  the  depravity  of  our 
nature,  and  the  misery  of  our  condition  : 
He  then  displays  the  method  of  our  reco- 
very by  Christ,  and  the  blessings  freely 
vouchsafed  in  his  gospel :  After  which  he 
delineates  the  offices  of  morality,  and  en- 
forces them  by  the  most  engaging  motives  ; 
motives  drawn  from  the  free  unbounded  lov- 
ing-kindness of  God  our  Saviour,  and  from 
the  rich  invaluable  benefits  of  his  grace  ;f 


*  Thy  God  is  the  phrase.  Which  denotes  an  in- 
terest ;  implies  an  appropriation  ;  and  is  the  pecuhar 
language  of  the  covenant — Thy  God ;  not  made  so  by 
thy  humble  walking,  but  by  an  act  of  his  own  grace, 
previous  to  any  obedience  of  thine. — According  to 
Theron's  principles,  the  prophet  should  rather  have 
«aid,  "Walk  humbly  (not  with  thy  God,  but)  that 
he  may  be  thy  God." 

t  This,  I  think,  is  the  best  platform  foran  evange- 
lical catechism.  The  ruin  of  man,  occasioned  by  sin — 
his  recovery,  effected  by  Christ— his  gratitude,  to  be 
expressed  by  way  of  obedience. — This  plan  is  carried 
into  execution  by  the  Palatinate  divines  :  who  have 
formed  upon  it,  a  sunnnary  of  catechetical  instruc- 
tion, than  which  1  have  met  with  nothing  of  the  kind 
more  clear  and  satisfactory:  more  edifvmg  and  aui- 
niatnig  ;  moae  exact y  consonant  to  the  benign  spirit 


pri\'ilege  he  plants  as  the  root ;  from  whirli 
duty  blooms  as  the  flower;  godliness  grows 
as  the  fiaiit. 

The  same  order  is  observed  by  St.  Peter 
in  his  very  concise,  but  veiy  accurate  map, 
of  the  way  to  heaven  :  "  Elect,  according 
to  the  foreknowledge  of  God  the  Father, 
through  sanctification  of  the  Spirit,  imto 
obedience,  and  sprinkling  of  the  blood  of 
Christ,"  (1  Pet  i.  2.)  First,  the  everlasting 
and  electing  love  of  the  Father — Then,  the 
enlightening  and  renewing  agency  of  the 
Spirit ;  who  testifies  of  Christ,  and  applies 
his  death  to  the  soul,  purifying  the  heart  by 
faith  ;  from  wheiice,  as  from  a  fountain  of 
li\ing  water,  flows  true  sanctification,  and 
every  act  of  filial  obedience,  every  species 
of  real  holiness  ;  all  wliich,  being  partly  de- 
fective, and  partly  polluted,  must  be  sprink- 
led with  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  made  ac- 
ceptable by  his  dj-ing  oblation. 

Ther.  Is  this  the  constant  method  in 
which  the  sacred  wiiters  represent  the  gos- 
pel salvation  ?  Do  they  always  observe  this 
particular  order,  in  arranging  its  doctrines 
and  its  duties  ?  Or,  is  it  not  an  insignificant 
circumstance  which  goes  first,  provided  we 
take  in  both  ? 

Asp.  To  observe  this  order,  I  am  per- 
suaded, is  no  insignificant  circumstance. 
It  is  of  great  consequence  both  to  our  estab- 
lishment, and  to  our  growth  in  grace.  Is 
it  a  matter  of  indifl^erence  to  the  archer 
whether  he  send  the  point  or  the  feather  of 
his  arrow  foremost  ?  Can  he,  in  either  case 
hit  the  mark  with  equal  ease,  and  equal  cer- 
tainty. 

I  believe,  you  ^^^ll  find,  that  the  sacred 
writers,  in  all  their  evangelical  discourses, 
invariably  adhere  to  this  order.  Nay,  it 
took  place  even  under  the  legal  dispensa- 
tion. When  the  Lord  God  published  his 
law  from  ]\Iount  Sinai ;  Avhen  he  wrote  it 
with  his  own  finger,  on  tables  of  stone  ; 
how  did  he  introduce  the  precepts  ?  how 
enforce  their  observance  ?  Let  us  attend  to 
the  preamble,  which  is  the  language  of  love, 
and  the  very  spirit  of  the  gospel :  "  I  am 
the  Lord  thy  God,  who  brought  thee  out 
of  the  land  of  Eg}'pt,  out  of  the  house  of 
bondage,"  (Exod.  xx.  2.)  "I  have  already 
delivered  thee,  with  a  mighty  hand,  from 
the  most  sordid  and  insupportable  slavery. 
I  have  promised  thee,  for  thy  possession, 
the  delightful  country  of  Canaan,  '  a  godly 
heritageofthehostsof  nations,  (Jer.  iii.  19.) 
Nay,  I  myself  am  thy  portion  ;  a  God  in 
covenant  with  thee  ;  engaged  by  an  invio- 
lable contract,  and  with  the  exertion  of  all 


of  the  gospel,  or  better  calculated  to  make  mankind 
both  holy  and  happy.  This  piece  the  reader  may  see, 
together  with  ajudicious,  and  very  valuable  exposi- 
tion of  it,  in  the  Latin  works  of  Henricus  Altingius, 
vol.  i.  quarto.  Which,  I  believe,  may  be  bought  for 
a  trifle,  yet  are  more  precious  than  gold. 


DIALOGUE  VII. 


231 


my  attributes  to  do  thee  good.  Therefore 
keep  the  statutes,  the  judgments,  and  or- 
dinances, which  I  am  now  going  to  esta- 
blish." Could  there  be  a  more  winning  in- 
ducement, or  a  more  endearing  obligation 
to  obedience? 

I  might  point  out  the  same  strain  running 
through  the  exhortations  of  Moses  and  the 
8ongs  of  David,  the  sermons  of  the  pro])hets 
and  the  writings  of  the  apostles.  But  this 
I  wave,  not  through  an  apprehension  of  its 
difliculty,  only  from  a  fear  of  prolixity. 
However,  j'ou  will  not  think  me  tedious  if 
I  produce  one  more  instance  from  the  great 
master  of  our  schools.  "  For  we  ourselves 
were  sometime  foolisli,  disobedient,  deceiv- 
ed, serving  divers  lusts  and  pleasures,  living 
in  malice  and  envy,  hateful, -and  hating  one 
another,"  (Tit.  iii.  3 — 8.)  Here  he  sets 
before  us  a  dismil  but  exact  picture  of  our 
depraved  and  undone  condition.  Then  he 
presents  us  with  a  delightful  view  of  oiu-  re- 
demption, both  in  its  gracious  cause  and 
precious  effects.  "  But  after  that  the  kind- 
ness and  love  of  God  our  Saviour  toward 
man  appeared  ;  not  by  works  of  righteous- 
ness which  we  have  done,  but  according  to 
his  mercy  he  saved  us,  by  the  washing  of 
regeneration,  and  renewing  of  the  Holy 
Ghost ;  which  he  has  shed  on  r.-  abvmdantly 
through  Jesus  Christ  oiu-  Savioui  ;  that  be- 
ing justified  by  his  grace,  we  should  be 
made  heirs  according  to  the  ho])e  of  eternal 
life."  Having  thus  provided  for  our  hap- 
piness, he  then  jiromotes  our  holiness. 
"  This  is  a  faithful  saying,  and  these  things 
I  will  that  thou  affirm  constantly,  that  they 
who  have  believed  in  God  might  be  careful 
to  maintain  good  works  :  these  things  are 
good  and  profitable  unto  men." 

I  make  no  comment*  upon  the  passage  ; 
because  I  hope  you  wiU  commit  it,  as  a 
noble  depositum,  to  your  memory.  Your 
own  diligent  meditation,  accompanied  with 
humble  prayer,  will  fuiiiish  out  the  best  ex- 
position. Only  I  would  just  remark,  that 
the  apostle,  always  consistent,  dways  uni- 


•  Perhaps  the  reader  will  give  me  leave,  though 
Aspasio  has  declined  the  office,  to  add  a  short  exposi- 
tory stricture  upon  the  most  distingushctl  parts  of 
this  very  important  paragraph.  I.  We  liave  the 
cause  of  our  redemption;  "not  works  of  righteous- 
ness which  VIC  have  done,  but  the  kindness,  tlie  love, 
the  mercy  of  Ciod  our  Saviour."  II.  Theefl'ects; 
which  are,  1st,  Justification — being  justified,  having 
our  sins  forgiven,  and  Christ's  righteousness  imput- 
ed: all  thi-,  without  any  the  least  deserving  qua  ity 
in  us;  solely  by  his  grace,  and  most  lumierited 
goodness.  OA,  .Sanlification — expressed  by  the  '•  wash- 
ing of  regeneration,  and  renewmg  of  the  Holy 
(Jhost ;"  wYiose  influences  purify  the  soul,  as  the 
washing  of  water  cleanses  the  body  ;  and  introduces 
an  improvement  inio  all  the  faculties  of  the  mind, 
somewhat  like  tlui!  annual  renovation  and  general 
suiile  of  naKue,  which  the  return  of  spring  dilVuscs 
over  tlie  face  of  the  eavLh.  111.  The  end  and  con- 
summ.Tlionof  all;  "that  we  should  be  made  heirs 
of  the  heavenly  kingdom;  and  live,  now  in  the  as- 
sured hope,  hercafitv  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  cter- 
»>.t1  lifit." 


form,  marshals  his  thoughts  with  his  usual 
exactness.  Good  works  are  not  disbanded, 
nor  yet  suffered  to  lead  the  van,  but  made 
to  bring  up  the  rear.  *  When  be  mentions 
these  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  he  mentions  them, 
not  slightly  as  matters  of  small  moment,  but 
earnestly,  as  affairs  of  great  importance.  It 
is  his  desire  and  his  charge,  that  all  believ- 
ers should  be  careful  ;f  have  their  hearts 
upon  the  business ;  should  use  their  best 
contrivance,  and  exert  their  utmost  endeav- 
ours, iTot  barely  to  practise,  but  to  main- 
tain ;  to  be  exemplary,  distinguished,  and 
pre-eminent  in  the  exercise  of  every  virtue, 
because  this  virtue,  and  those  works,  though 
not  the  ground  of  a  reconciliation  with  God, 
are  amiable  in  the  eyes  of  all,  and  honour- 
able to  the  Christian  profession.  They 
are  also  a  necessary  ingredient  in  personal 
happiness,  and  the  apparent  means  of  social 
usefulness. 

Ther.  This  view  of  the  evangelical  plan 
is,  I  must  confess,  new  to  me  ;  and  parti- 
cidarly  yoiu:  ordonnance  of  the  epistle  to  the 
Romans. 

Asp.  If  this  be  new,  perhaps  what  I  am 
going  to  advance  may  be  strange.  We  have 
been  talking  about  acceptance  with  God, 
and  debating  whether  our  own  good  works 
are  the  cause  of  this  inestimable  blessing. 
What  will  you  say,  if  we  can  perform  no 
good  work,  till  we  are  interested  in  Christ, 
and  accepted  by  God  ? 

Ther.  Say  ! — that  this  is  razing  founda- 
tions. 

Asp.  It  is  razing  the  WTong,  the  founda- 
tion lalsely  so  called,  which  will  certainly 
deceive  as  many  as  make  it  their  trust. 
And  is  it  not  prudent,  when  we  are  build- 
ing lor  eternity,  carefidly  to  examine  the 
ground  ?  Is  it  not  friendly  to  divert  a  man 
from  the  treacherous  sand,  and  lead  him  to 
the  tinshaken  rock  ?  For  this  cause  I  said 
it  once,  and  for  this  cause  I  say  it  again, 
that  we  can  perfonu  no  good  work  till  we 
are  interested  in  Christ,  and  accepted  of 
God. 


*  The  same  order  is  observed  by  .St.  John,  Kev. 
xiv.  13.  "Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord  ;  for  they  rest  from  their  labours,  and  their 
works  do  follow  them."  Not  go  before,  to  open  the 
everlasting  doors,  and  give  them  admittance  u;to  the 
mansions  of  joy.  Hut  they  follow  thein,  when  ad- 
mitted :  As  the  robe,  which,  on  a  king's  coronation 
day,  flows  from  his  shoulders,  cannot  but  accompany 
him,  vvhcrcsover  he  goes.  It  may  be  i)crtinent,  on 
the  mention  of  this  illustration,  just  to  hint,  that  as 
it  is  not  the  robe  of  state  which  makes  the  king; 
so  neitlier  is  it  the  external  practice  of  holiness  which 
makes  the  Christian.  .\n  union  with  Christ,  an  in- 
terest in  his  merits,  and  the  indwelling  presence  of 
his  .Spirit ;  these,  and  nothing  slior'  of  these,  consti- 
tute the  true  Christian.  ^  ei,  as  the  royal  robe  is  an 
attendant  on  majesty,  and  distinguishes  the  monarcli ; 
so  practical  godliness  is  inseparable  from  faith,  and 
adorns  the  believer. 

f  ^ot)ti7.^'^'i.  This  is some<vhat  like  that  empha- 
tical  expression,  which  so  often  occurs  in  the  Old 

Testament,  fnii'ji^  llQltTI  "  ^'e  sluill  observe 
to  do  ;  ye  shall  he  very  diligent  to  fulli! ;  ye  shall  he 
very  exact  in  perforiWiig." 


232 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Tlier.  Produce  your  reasons,  Aspasio. 
And  strong  reasons  they  must  be,  which 
are  forcible  enough  to  support  such  an  opi- 
nion. 

Asp.  The  case  seems  to  speak  for  itself. 
How  can  a  man  that  is  evil  do  works  that 
are  good  ?  Would  you  expect  to  "  gather 
grapes  of  thorns,  or  tigs  of  thistles  ?"  But 
let  us  hear  what  our  unerring  Teacher  says ; 
"  As  the  branch  cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself, 
except  it  abide  in  the  vine ;  no  more  can 
ye,  except  ye  abide  in  me."  (John  xv.  4.) 
Nothing  can  be  more  express  and  full  to 
our  purpose.  But  that  which  follows  is 
far  more  awful  and  alarming  to  our  con- 
sciences. "  If  a  man  abide  not  in  me,  he 
is  cast  forth  as  a  branch  and  is  withered  ; 
and  men  gather  them,  and  cast  them  into 
the  fire,  and  they  are  burned."  (John  xv. 
6.)  From  which  it  appears,  that  the  hu- 
man heart  is  never  actuated  by  good  tem- 
pers, that  the  human  life  can  never  be  pro- 
ductive of  good  works,  until  a  man  is  in- 
grafted into  Christ,  no  more  than  a  branch 
can  bear  valuable  fruit,  while  it  continues 
in  a  state  of  separation  from  the  tree.  *  It 
appears  also,  that  persons  alienated  from 
Christ  are,  and  all  their  performances  too, 
like  broken,  withered,  rotten  boughs — lit 
for  nothing,  but  to  be  committed  to  the 
flarncs,  and  consumed  from  the  earth.  Both 
they  and  their  services,  far  from  being  me- 
ritorious, are,  in  the  estimate  of  heaven, 
worthless  and  despicably  mean, 

Tlier.  What !  are  all  the  noble  deeds, 
performed  by  the  advocates  for  morality 
and  lovers  of  virtue,  worthless  in  them- 
selves, and  despicable  before  the  supreme 
Being?  Worthless  and  despicable  (grating 
words  ! )  only  because  they  are  not  attended 
with  the  peculiarities  of  your  faith  ?  Can 
the  want  of  this  Little  circumstance  change 
their  nature,  and  turn  their  gold  into  dross  ? 

Asp.  My  dear  Theron,  call  not  the  cir- 
cumstance little.  It  is  sufficient,  were  your 
works  more  precious  than  gold,   to   debase 

them   into    tin,    into   lead,    into     dross 

When  the  poor  shepherd  brought  you,  yes- 
terday morning,  a  present  of  some  wood- 
strawberries,  bringing  them  as  an  humble 
expression  of  his  gratitude,  they  were  kindly 
received.  But  if  he  had  offered  them  as  a 
price  for  your  house,  or  as  the  purchase  of 
your  estate,  how  shoidd  you  have  regarded 
them  in  such  a  connexion  ?     No  words  can 


*  This  discovers  an  error  which -is  often  commit- 
ted, in  our  attempts  to  instruct  little  children.  What 
is  more  common  than  to  tell  them,  "  If  they  will  be 
good,  God  Almighty  will  love  and  bless  them." — 
Whereas,  they  should  rather  be  informed,  "that  they 
are  sinners;  but  that  God  Almighty  has  given  his 
Son  to  die  for  sinners;  and,  if  they  pray  to  him,  he 
will  forgive  their  sins,  will  make  them  holy,  make 
Iheni  happy,  and  bless  them  with  all  spiritual  bles; 
ings  in  Christ." 


express  the  disdain  you  would  have  con- 
ceived. When  Barnabas  presented  a  sum 
of  money  to  the  apostles,  for  the  supply  of 
their  necessities  and  the  relief  of  indigent 
believers,  (Acts  iv.  37,)  it  was  welcome  to 
them,  and  pleasing  to  God.  But  when 
Simon  the  sorcerer  offered  his  gold  to 
Peter  and  John ;  offering  it,  not  from  a 
principle  of  faith,  but  as  an  equivalent  for 
the  Holy  Spirit ;  not  in  order  to  testify  his 
thankfulness,  but  rather  to  play  the  huck- 
ster with  heaven,  it  was  rejected  with  the 
utmost  indignation.  (Acts  viii.  20.) 

I  leave  my  friend  to  apply  the  preceding 
instances.  Only  let  me  beg  of  him  to  be- 
lieve, that  if  my  words  are  grating,  they 
are  extorted  by  the  force  of  truth.  If  I  am 
obliged  to  blame  what  he  calls  good  works, 
it  is,  as  a  great  critic  blames  eloquence, 
"  with  the  tenderness  of  a  lover."  But  my 
censure  faUs  only  on  their  faulty  origin  and 
unbecoming  aim.  Let  them  spring  from  the 
grace  of  Christ  as  their  source,  let  them  pro- 
pose the  glory  of  Christ  as  their  end  ;  then, 
instead  of  putting  a  slight  upon  them,  or  giv- 
ing them  a  bill  of  divorce,  I  woidd  court,  ca- 
ress, and  wed  them.  Whereas,  if  neither  this 
end  be  kept  in  the  view,  nor  that  principle 
operate  in  the  heart,  I  must  persist  in  ques- 
tioning the  genuineness  of  their  character, 
nay,  in  denying  the  very  possibility  of  their 
existence.  There  may  be  a  mimicry  of  holy 
actions  ;  but  it  is  mimicry  only  ;  as  empty 
as  the  combs  made  by  those  wasps,  and  no 
better  than  a  dame  that  is  painted. — I  have 
an  authority  for  this  doctrine,  which  I  think 
you  will  not  offer  to  controvert. 

Ther.    What  authority  ? 

Asp.  That  of  oiu-  church  :  who  declares, 
in  her  13th  article  j  "  Works  done  before 
the  grace  of  Christ,  and  inspiration  of  his 
Spirit,  are  not  pleasing  to  God  ;  forasmuch 
as  they  spring  not  out  of  faith  in  Christ." 
Faith  in  Jesus  Christ  purilies  the  heart. 
Till  this  be  done,  we  have  neither  disposi- 
tion nor  capacity  for  holy  obedience.  Nay, 
without  faith  in  Christ,  our  persons  are 
abominable,*  our  state  is  damnable,  and 
how  can  any  of  our  works  be  acceptable  ? 

Such  a  one,  you  say,  is  honest  in  his 
dealings,  temperate  in  liis  enjoyments,  cha- 
ritable to  the  poor.  I  allow  it  all.  But 
unless  these  seeming  virtues  are  referred  to 
the  glory  of  the  supreme  Jehovah,  imless 
they  flow  from  faith  in  the  crucified  Jesus, 
they  may  be  acts  of  worldly  policy,  of  self- 
ish prudence,  of  Pharisaical  pride — they 
are  by  no  means  a  pleasing  oblation  to  the 


«  "  To  thedefiledand  unbelieving  Isnothing clean." 
Tit.  i.  15.  The  apostle  joins  ilefileil  and  viiheliev- 
hif,',  to  intimate,  that  without  a  true  l)c!ief  nothing 
is  clean.  The  understanding  and  the  conscience  are 
polluted.    Both  the  man  and  his  doings  are  impure. 


DIALOGUE  VIII. 


233 


Lord  Almighty.*  Nay,  instead  of  being 
acts  of  duty,  and  objects  of  approbation, 
they  stand  condemned  in  the  scripture,  and 
are  breaches  of  the  commandment.  Tliey 
stand  condemned  in  that  scripture,  which 
declares,  "  without  faith  it  is  impossible  to 
please  God."  (Heb.  xi.  6.)  They  are 
breaches  of  that  commandment,  which  re- 
quires, "  whether  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  what- 
soever ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God." 
(1  Cor.  X.  32.) 

Upon  the  whole,  if  we  will  submit  to  the 
determination  of  our  established  church,  or 
acquiesce  in  the  decision  of  our  divine  Mas- 
ter, we  must  acknowledge,  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  a  good  work,  till  we  are  re- 
conciled to  God,  and  our  persons  accepted 
in  his  sight.  Therefore,  to  represent  our 
owii  works  as  the  means  of  reconciliation 
and  acceptance,  is  both  chimerical  and  ab- 
surd. Chimerical,  because  it  builds  upon 
a  phantom,  and  takes  for  a  reality  what 
has  no  existence  :  Absurd,  because  it  in- 
verts the  natural  order  of  things,  and  would 
make  the  effect  antecedent  to  the  cause. 

Ther.  Before  we  quit  this  agreeable 
retreat,  let  me  ask  my  Aspasio,  what  he 
purposes  by  rumiing  down  all  those  works 
which  are  the  produce  of  inward  religion, 
and  essential  to  true  holiness  :  whose  excel- 
lency is  displayed  in  the  clearest,  and  whose 
necessity  is  urged  in  the  strongest  terms, 
throughout  the  whole  Bible  ? 

Asp.  I  am  far  from  rumiing  down  works 
which  are  the  produce  of  inward  religion, 
and  therefore  may  be  justly  styled,  "  works 
of  faith,  and  labours  of  love."  But  I  would 
caution  my  Theron  and  myself  to  take  care 
that  our  works  be  accompanied  \\ith  those 
circumstances  which  alone  can  render  them 
truly  good.  Let  them  arise  from  faith,  and 
bear  witness  to  love  ;  or  else  we  shall  have 
"  thistles  instead  of  wheat,  and  cockle  in- 
stead of  barley."  (Job  xxxi.  40.) 

I  would  also  persuade  my  friend,  and  I 
would  habituate  myself,  not  to  repose  our 
confidence  in  any  works  whatsoever  ;  lest 
they  prove  a  bruised  reed,  that  breaks  nn- 
der  our  weight — or  a  pointed  spear,  that 
pierces  us  to  the  heart.  We  shall  never  be 
like  the  church,  "  who  comes  up  out  of  the 


»  Might  not  tliis  observation  be  made,  with  great 
propriety,  in  our  infirmary  ami  other  charitable  ser- 
mons ?  Should  not  the  audience  be  exhorted  to 
abound  in  acts  of  benevolence,  from  a  grateful  re- 
gard to  the  infinitely-merciful  and  condescending  Je- 
sus ?  2  Cor.  viii.  !(.  Should  they  not,  before  all 
things,  be  directed  to  make  sure  their  interest  in  the 
Hcdeenior's  merits  ?  that  tlieir  persons  may  find  fa- 
vour, and  their  abns  accc)itaiuc.  Kph.  i.  (i.  Should 
they  not  be  admonished,  that  without  this  believing 
application  to  Christ,  whatever  they  do,  whatever 
they  give,  is  worthless  in  the  eye  of  their  Maker,  and 
will  be  fruitless  to  their  own  souls.  Ileb.  xi.  (!.  In 
this  resp((  f  our  Saviour  was  eminently  typified  by 
the  Jewish  altar;  on  which  every  sacrifice,  by  whom- 
s<K\(r  brought,  was  to  be  oflered,  and  separate  from 
which  no  sacrifice,  however  costly,  could  Ix^  accept- 
ed,    Kxod.  XX.  -1  ;   Levit.  nmi.  -l,  4. 


wilderness,  leaning  upon  her  beloved," 
(Cant.  viii.  5,)  so  long  as  we  bolster  up 
ourselves  with  a  conceit  of  personal  right- 
eousness. This  was  the  error,  the  fatal 
error  of  the  Pharisees  ;  this  the  film  which 
blinded  the  eyes  of  their  mind,  and  sealed 
them  up  under  the  darkness  of  final  unbelief. 

Besides,  my  detu-  Thei'on,  if  you  expect 
to  be  saved  by  your  own  duties,  you  will  be 
loath  to  see  the  worst  of  your  condition. 
To  see  the  worst  of  your  condition,  will  be 
a  dagger  to  your  hopes,  and  as  death  to 
your  soul.  You  will  therefore  be  inclined 
to  "  daub  with  untempered  mortar,"  (Ezek. 
xiii.  10.)  Instead  of  acknowledging  the 
deep  depravity  of  your  nature,  and  the  num- 
berless iniquities  of  your  life,  you  will  in- 
vent a  thousand  excuses  to  palliate  your 
guilt  ;  and  by  this  means  erect  a  wall  of 
partition  between  your  soul  and  the  merits 
of  your  Redeemer  ;  which  will  be  a  greater 
inconvenience,  a  more  destructive  evil,  than 
to  cut  off  all  supply  of  provision  from  an 
army,  or  even  to  intercept  the  sunbeams 
from  visiting  the  earth. 

Ther.  Now  yon  talk  of  armies,  I  must 
observe,  that  though  I  have  scarce  been 
able  to  keep  my  ground,  in  this  argimienta- 
tive  action,  I  cannot  allow  you  the  honour 
of  a  victory,  as  a  retreat  is  very  different 
from  a  rout. 

Anp.  I  would  also  remark,  that  my  friend 
has  changed  the  intended  plan  of  our 
operations ;  has  almost  continually  acted 
upon  the  offensive  ;  while  my  part  has  been 
only  to  sustain  the  shock.  At  our  next 
encounter,  you  may  expect  to  have  the  or- 
der of  battle  reversed.  I  shall  direct  my 
forces  to  begin  the  charge.  Put  yourself 
therefore  in  readiness  for  a  brisk  attack. 

Ther.  You  act  the  fa:r  enemy,  Aspasio, 
I  must  confess,  in  thus  giving  the  alarm, 
before  you  make  the  assault. 

Asp.  This  hostility  inay  appear  fairer 
still,  when  I  assure  you,  that  my  weapons 
aim  not  at  the  destruction  of  your  comfort, 
or  the  demolition  of  any  valuable  interest. 
Only  they  would  be  "  mighty  through  God, 
to  pull  down  the  strong  holds"  of  unbelief, 
and  bring  every  self-exalting,  every  rebelli-- 
ous  thought,  "  captive  unto  Christ,"  (2 
Cor.  X.  4,  5,)  captive,  in  a  professed  sub- 
mission to  his  righteousness,  as  well  as  a 
dutiful  subjection  to  his  connnands.  And 
when  such  is  the  tendency  of  the  campaign, 
it  will  be  your  greatest  advantage  to  lose 
the  victory;  it  will  be  better  than  a  triumph 
to  acknowledge  yourself  vanquished. 


DIALOGUE   VIII. 

71)1  r.    OfK  last  conversation  ended  with 
a  rhallengc.      To  decline  or   delay  the  ac- 


234 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO 


reptaiice  of  it,  >\'ould  look  like  cowardice 
in  me,  and  be  a  piece  of  injustice  to  you, 
Aspasio.  Therefore  I  am  now  ready  to 
give  you  all  the  satisfaction  which  a  gentle- 
man can  demand.  Only,  as  the  weather 
continues  hazy,  I  believe  my  study  must  be 
the  place  of  action. 

Asp.   A  challenge,  Theron  ! 

T/ier.  What,  Sir  !  do  you  bogle  ?  would 
you  eat  your  words,  and  play  the  poltroon  ? 

Asp.  Perhaps  I  may  have  an  inclination 
to  follow  the  example  of  a  brother  hero, 
who  ran  away  from  the  field  of  battle  just 
as  his  comrades  were  advancing  to  charge 
the  enemy  ;  and  when  called  to  an  account 
for  his  behaviour,  right  wortliily  alleged, 
that  liis  retreat  proceeded,  not  from  any  ti- 
midity of  mind,  no,  but  from  a  concern  for 
the  public  good ;  "  for,"  quoth  he,  "  if  I 
had  been  knocked  on  the  head  to-day,  how 
should  I  have  been  able  to  fight  for  my 
country  to-morrow?" 

You  smile,  Theron,  at  my  doughty  war- 
rior, and  his  sage  maxim.  But,  since  you 
have  glanced  at  a  certain  modish  custom, 
give  me  leave  very  seriously  to  assure  you, 
that,  if  the  affair  was  to  be  determined  by 
sword  and  pistol,  I  should  reckon  such  a 
conduct,  a  resolute  refusal  at  least,  not  at 
all  unmanly,  but  the  truly  wise  and  gallant 
behaviour.  For  surely  it  can  never  be  an 
instance  of  wisdom,  to  hazard  my  life  at  the 
mere  caprice  of  a  turbulent  ruffian,  who  is 
a  stranger  to  all  the  principles  of  humanity 
and  generosity,  but  a  slave,  an  abandoned 
slave  to  his  own  ungovernable  passions. 
Surely  it  can  never  be  an  act  of  real  bravery 
to  expose  my  person,  because  some  fool- 
hardy practitioner  in  the  fencing-school  is 
desperate  enough  to  risk  his  !  The  gentle- 
man, the  true  gentleman,  should  exert  a 
becoming  dignity  of  spirit,  and  scorn  to  set 
his  welfare  on  a  level  with  that  of  an  incon- 
siderate and  barbarous  bully.* 

Ther.  But  honour,  my  Aspasio,  honour 
is  at  stake.  Better  to  lose  our  life  than 
forfeit  our  reputation.  Better  to  be  in  a 
grave  than  to  be  the  jest  of  every  coffee- 
house ;  and  perhaps  pointed  at,  as  we  pass 
the  streets,  for  mean-spirited,  sneaking,  or, 
as  the  gentlemen  of  the  sword  so  elegantly 
speak,  white-livered  animals. 

Asp.  Forfeit  our  reputation  !  Amongst 
whom,  I  beseech  you?  A  few  rash  and 
precipitate    creatures,    the   pupils   of     La 


*  Aspasio  calls  the  person  wlio  gives  the  challenge 
a  bully.  And  such,  notwithstanding  all  the  maxims 
of  fantastical  and  false  honour,  he  will  certainly  he 
found,  when  tried  at  the  bar  of  reason  or  justice. 
For,  if  the  most  impetuous,  irrational,  and  brutal 
barbarity,  is  al'owcd  to  constitute  a  bully,  lie  has  an 
indisputable  title  to  the  character,  who,"  on  account 
of  a  mere  punctilio,  or  some  slight  allVont,  would 
destroy  a  life  tliat  might  be  of  service  to  soci;fy, 
might  he  a  blr-sing  to  various  relatives,  and  is  inti- 
mately connected  with  a  blis-jl'iil  or  miserable  innVior- 
talily. 


Mancha's  knight ;  the  .sons  of  chimera*  and 
cruelty ;  whose  applause  is  infamy ;  and 
their  detraction  the  highest  praise  they  can 
bestow.  From  every  judicious  and  worthy 
person,  your  conduct  will  be  sure  to  gain 
approbation,  and  your  character  esteem. 
When  Caesar  received  a  challenge  from 
Antony,  to  engage  him  in  single  combat, 
he  very  calmly  answered  the  bearer  of  the 
message  :  "  If  Antony  is  weary  of  life,  tell 
him,  there  are  other  ways  to  death,  besides 
the  point  of  my  sword."  Who  ever  deem- 
ed this  an  instance  of  cowardice  !  All  ages 
have  admired  it  as  the  act  of  a  discreet  and 
gallant  man;  who  was  sensible  of  his  own 
importance,  and  knew  how  to  treat  the  pe- 
tulant and  revengeful  humour  of  a  discon- 
tented adversary  with  its  deserved  contempt. 

Barely  to  lose  our  life,  is  the  smallest  of 
those  evils  which  attend  this  mischievous 
practice.  It  is  pregnant  \\'ith  a  long,  an 
almost  endless  train  of  disastrous  conse- 
quences to  parents,  wives,  children,  friends, 
associates,  and  the  community.  It  is  an 
infallible  exi^edient  to  be  deprived  of  the 
favour  of  the  infinite  God,  and  to  be  ex- 
cluded from  the  joys  of  his  eternal  king- 
dom. It  is  the  sure  way  to  become  an  ob- 
ject of  abhorrence  to  the  angels  of  light,  and 
be  made  the  laughing-stock  of  devils,  in 
their  dungeons  of  darkness.f  Shame,  ever- 
lasting shame,  shall  be  the  reward  of  such 
gallantry,  "  the  promotion  of  such  fools." 
(Pro v.  iii.  35.) 

Ther.  With  regard  to  this  point,  I  am 
entirely  of  your  opinion,  Aspasio,  however 
I  may  differ  in  other  particulars. 

Asp.  Say  you  so,  Theron  ?  Would  you 
then  tamely  submit  to  affronts,  insults,  and 
injin-ies  ? 

77.'er.  As  to  the  trifling  affronts  of  a 
peevish,  incontinent  tongue,  I  ^vould  treat 
them  with  a  superior  scorn.  And  when 
thus  treated,  they  are  sure  to  recoil,  with 
the  keenest  edge,  and  severest  weight, 
upon  the  impotent  malice^v]lich  offers  them- 
The  wretch  should  see,  that  1  could  pity 
his  misery,  and  smile  at  liis  folly.     But  as 


»  Thiskindof  gentry  are  styled,  in  a  book,  with 
which  tliev  have  little  or  no  aciiu.iintance,  but  whose 
maxims  will  be  had  in  reverence  when  their  names 
are  lost  in  oblivion,  ]"lJ>Jii^'i^D  "  l^?  sons  of  bluster, 
or  the  children  of  noise."    Jcr.  xlviii.  45. 

t  "Let  me  tell  you  with  coufideisce,"  (says  an  ex- 
cellent person,  addressing  himself  to  one  of  these  un- 
hanpv  desperadoes)  that  all  duels,  or  single  combats, 
are  murderous:  blanch  them  over  (how  you  list) 
with  names  of  honour  and  honest  pretences,  their 
use  is  sinful,  and  their  nature  devilish.."  See  the  se- 
lect works  of  13ishop  Hall,  in  one  volume  folio,  page 
520,  where  the  reader  will  iind  a  happy  nnxUirc  of 
true  oratory  and  sound  divinity ;  aricli  veinox  tancy, 
and  a  sweet  spirit  of  pietv ;  contemplations  upon  the 
histories  of  scripture  (which,  I  think,  are  our  pre- 
late's master-piece)  almost  as  entertr.ininp  and  in- 
structive, as  the  subjects  illustrated  are  important 
and  wonderful.  Notwithstanding  a  few  still  or  .-in- 
tiqtie  phrases.  I  cannot  but  c-sreem  tlie  works  of  this 
author  amongst  the  most  valuable  compositions  ex- 
tant in  our  lan^uajjc. 


DIALOGUE   Vin. 


to  injuries,  tbe  case  is  otlierwise.  Should 
any  one  assault  my  person,  it  is  at  his  peril. 
He  would  find,  and  perhaps  to  his  smart, 

Et  nos  tela  manu,  ferrumque  baud  debile  dextra 
Spargimus,  et  nostro  sequitur  de  vuluere  sanguis. 

ViRK. 

Here  the  fundamental  and  everlasting  law 
of  self-preservation  calls  upon  us  to  play 
the  man.  And  I  am  sure,  Christianity 
does  not  require  us  to  yield  our  throats  to 
the  knife,  or  open  our  breasts  to  the  dag- 
ger. 


•2.15 

outrageous  passions.  Neither  have  I  so 
totally  renounced  all  that  is  humane,  bene- 
volent, or  amiable,  as  to  di-aw  my  sword 
for  your  destruction,  because  you  have  first 
been  overcome  by  precipitate  and  unreason- 
able resentment.  You  have  given  me  an 
opportunity  of  acting  the  gentleman  and  the 
Christian.  And  this  challenge  I  accept, 
as  a  note  under  your  hand  for  five  hundred 
pounds  ;*  which  mil  very  soon  be  de- 
manded according  to  law,  by.  Sir, 

"  Yours,  &c." 


But  to  retire  to  deliberate,  to  sit  down  and 
indite  a  formal  challenge,  seems  to  me  al- 
together as  savage  and  iniquitous,  as  to  as- 
sault on  the  highway.  He  that  demands 
my  money  on  the  road,  or  extorts  it  by  an 
incendiary  letter,  or  decoys  me  into  the 
snare  by  a  forged  and  counterfeit  note,  is 
stigmatized  for  a  villain,  is  abhon-ed  by 
every  person  of  integrity,  and  when  detected 
is  rewarded  with  a  halter.  Why  should 
we  reckon  the  headstrong  bravo  less  in- 
jurious, who  makes  his  attempt  ujion  my 
very  life,  and  thirsts  with  insatiable  fury  for 
my  blood  ? 

A.sp.  He  allows  you  a  fair  chance,  it  is 
said. 

7Vicr.  A  chance  !  Of  what  ?  i:ither  of 
falling  a  sacrifice  to  his  rage,  or  of  imbru- 
ing my  hands  in  his  blood.  Which  is  nei- 
ther more  nor  less  than  reducing  me  to  a  ne- 
cessity of  launching  into  damnation  myself, 
or  of  transmitting  a  fellow-creature  to  eter- 
nal vengeance.   And  is  this  an  extenuation  ? 

this  a   mitigating   circumstance  ?      It  really 

proves  the  practice  so   inexcusably  wicked, 

that  nothing  can  be  pleaded  in  its  defence. 

The  very  argument  used  to  justify  the  hor- 
rid deed,  inflames  its  guilt,  and  aggravates 

its  malignity. 

It  is  a  pity  but  the  legislative   authority 

would  interpose  for  the  suppression  of  such 

a  flagrant  wrong  to  society,  and  such  a  no- 
torious violation  of   our    benign    religion. 

Why  should  not  the  laws  declare  it  felony  to 

make  the  fii'st  overture  for  a  duel  ?     Since 

it  is  always  more   heinous,  and  frequently 

more  pernicious — is  alwaj  s  murder  in  the 

intention,   and  frequently  issues  in  double 

destruction ;  the  one   inflicted  by  the  stab 

of  violence,  the  other  executed  by  the  sword 

of  justice. 

Might  it  not,  at  least,  be  branded  with 

some  mark  of  public  infamy,  or  subjected 

to    a    severe  pecuniary  mulct  ?     so   that  a 

gentleman  of  spirit  and  tem])er  might  have 

it  in  his  power  to  return  the   comj)liment 

of  a  challenging  letter  \^■ith  some   such  an- 
swer:— 

Sl«'  pa.  _  __ 

horrid  manner,  if  it  was  made  the  s'.ire  way  to  en- 

"  However    meanly    VOIl    mav    think    of   iiot)lc  and  enrich  the  object  of  their  m^cr^.—N.B.  The 

,T      T       ....        1  ■    I. "         I        '  .  ^«  ».:«„      civic  crov/n  was  an  ornament  assigned  to  these  sol- 

yonr  life,  I  set  too  high  a  value  upon  mme,  K;j;;^/„.fJ„  .,,,,  ■„  ,.^.,^jg  rescued  a  fellow  citizen  from 

to  cvpose  it  as  n  ni;irk  for  luu'.i-ciiilmcd  and  i  iimirn-lin:;  death. 


Asp.  But  to  resume  the  proper  subject, 
the  nature  of  our  engagement ;  which  I  now 
recollect,  and  which  was  explained  when 
I  ventured  to  give  what  you  call  the  chal- 
lenge. As  it  is  not  my  Theron,  but  the 
obstacles  of  his  faith,  and  the  enemies  of 
his  felicity,  that  I  am  to  encounter,  perhaps 
I  shall  have  courage  to  stand  my  ground  ; 
and,  instead  of  violating  all  the  obligations 
of  equity,  honour,  and  conscience,  I  shall 
certainly  evidence  my  love  to  mji  friend, 
may  possibly  promote  his  tniest  good. 

Tker.  I  do  not  see  how  this  can  be  ef- 
fected by  your  late  attempt.  You  under- 
took to  run  doAvn  all  works  of  righteous- 
ness as  absolutely  unable  to  find  acceptance 
with  God,  and  equally  insufficient  to  re- 
commend us  to  his  favour.  It  is  for  the 
credit  of  these,  which  Aspasio  has  depre- 
ciated, that  I  enter  the  lists. 

Asp.  Pray,  what  is  the  standard  to  which 
these  works  of  righteousness  must  be  con- 
formed, and  by  which  their  sufficiency  may 
be  determined  ? 

The/:  The  moral  law,  doubtless ;  I 
know  no  other  standard  of  righteousness, 
nor  any  other  way  of  becoming  righteous. 

Asp.  You  will,  I  hope,  ere  long  be  ac- 
quainted with  another  way.  At  present,  I 
agree  to  your  proposal.  We  will  join  issue 
on  this  footing,  and  try  the  merits  of  our 
cause  before  this  tribunal.  Yourself  shall 
be  the  judge.  I  will  only  ask  your  opin- 
ion, and  refer  myself  to  your  decision.  You 
see,  I  aiTi  soon  weary  of  the  military  style. 
I  had  obtruded  myself  on  a  part  which  I 
was  not  qualified  to  act,  and  now  resume  a 
more  becoming  character. 

Ther.    If  you  place  me  on  the   bench,   I 


•  Might  not  the  refuser  of  a  challenge  be  dignified 
with  some  honorary  distinction,  resembling  the  civic 
crown  amongst  the  ancient  Romans;  since,  by  his 
cool  and  temperate  bravery,  ho  saves  one  life  from 
the  sword,  another  from  the  halter  ?  Was  some  ho- 
norary distinction,  on  the  one  hand,  united  to  a  pe- 
cuniary forfeiture  on  the  other,  I  cannot  but  think, 
they  would  prove  an  etfectual  method  to  check  the 
progress  of  this  destructive  evil.  It  would  break  the 
teeth  of  malice  with  her  own  weapons,  and  turn  the 
artillery  of  revenge  upon  herself.    Those  detestable 


2S6 


THERON  A^D  ASPASIO. 


shall  allow  of  no  such  digressions,  but  shall 
keep  you  close  to  the  subject. 

Asp.  Has  your  Lordship  then  considered 
the  nature  of  the  divine  law,  and  the  extent 
of  its  obligations  ? 

Ther.  It  obliges  all  persons,  and  com- 
prises the  whole  duty  of  man.  It  forbids 
all  immorality,  and  enjoins  every  virtue. — 
Are  not  these  your  sentiments  ? 

Asp.  They  are,  when  somewhat  enlarged. 
— The  empire  of  the  law,  as  prohibitory  of 
evil,  extends  both  to  the  outward  and  in- 
ward man.  It  takes  cognizance  of  the  ac- 
tions ;  it  judges  every  word.  All  the  ope- 
rations and  all  the  dispositions  of  the  soul 
come  under  its  sacred  jurisdiction.  It  is 
indeed  a  discerner,  not  only  of  the  working 
thoughts,  but  also  of  the  dawning  inten- 
tions ;  and  arraigns  them  both  at  its  awful 
bar.  "  It  pierces  even  to  the  dividing  a- 
sunder  of  the  soul  and  spirit. "  ( Heb.  v. 
1 2. )  Not  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  breast 
are  too  deep  for  its  penetration,  nor  all  the 
artifices,of  the  deceitful  heart  too  subtle  for 
its  detection.  Other  laws  forbid  the  un- 
clean act ;  this  condemns  the  wanton  eye, 
and  irregular  desire.  Other  laws  punish 
the  injurious  deed;  this  passes  sentence  on 
the  unguarded  sallies  of  passion,  and  the 
most  secret  emotions  of  resentment.  So 
eminently  true  is  that  remark  of  the  Psalm- 
ist, "  thy  commandments  are  exceeding 
broad."  (Psalm  cxix.  96.)  Tell  me  now, 
Theron,  has  your  obedience  been  commen- 
surate to  this  extensive  platform  of  duty? 

Ther.   If  the  law  be  so  very  extensive — 

Asp.  Nay,  my  friend,  you  caimot  sus- 
pect, that  I  have  stretched,  to  an  undue  ex- 
tent, the  obligations  of  the  divine  law,  since 
this  interpretation  is  established  by  an  au- 
thority too  great  to  be  controverted,  too 
clear  to  be  misunderstood — even  by  the 
authority  of  Christ  himself;  whose  sermon 
upon  the  mount  is  a  professed  exposition  of 
the  commandments,  and  maintains  in  the 
most  explicit  manner  all  that  I  have  ad- 
vanced. So  that  if  our  Lord's  exposition 
is  just,  I  think  it  will  be  neither  rash  nor 
uii<;haritable  to  say,  there  is  not  a  man  ujion 
earth  but  has  broke  them  all. 

Tker.  Are  we  all  idolaters  then  ?  all 
adulterers  ?  all  murderers  ?  Shocking  to 
imagine  ! 

Asp.  It  is  shocking,  I  confess.  But 
how  nnich  more  so,  if  such  delinquents  ex- 
pect justification  by  their  own  deeds  ? 

Ther.  This  is  no  proof  of  your  assertion, 
my  good  friend. 

Asp.  To  be  fond  of  gold,  to  be  enamour- 
ed with  the  world,  to  love  any  creature 
more  than  the  ever-blessed  Creator,  are  in- 
stances of  idolatry,  ( Col.  iii.  5;  Phil-  iii. 
19,)  not  (juite  so  gross,  but  altogether  as 
real,  as  to  set  up  idols  in  our  temples,  or 
pay  nets  of  adoration   to   senseless  iniii;,'cs. 


Have  you  always  been  free  from  this  apos- 
tacy  of  the  affections  ? 

Our  infallible  Teacher  has  informed  us, 
that  unreasonable  anger,  contemptuous  lan- 
guage, and  malevolent  wishes,  (Matt.  v.  22,) 
are  each  a  species  of  murder,  and  not  many 
removes  from  the  assassin's  deadly  stab. 
Have  you  been  always  meek,  always  bene- 
volent, and  never  chargeable  with  this  men- 
tal homicide  ? 

We  are  farther  assured,  that  the  indul- 
gence of  inordinate  desire  is,  in  the  impar- 
tial estimate  of  heaven,  as  the  commission 
of  the  impure  deed.  (Matt.  v.  28.)  And 
evil  concupiscence  of  every  kind  Anolates 
that  sacred  precept,  "  Thou  slialt  not 
covet.  "*  Has  your  will  been  invariably  up- 
right, and  warped  with  no  irregular  inclina- 
tion ?  are  you  wholly  unpolluted  with  this 
adultery  of  the  heart  ? 

I  wait  not  for  a  reply.  I  have  often 
heard  you  plead  guilty  to  all — yes,  to  all 
and  every  of  these  charges  respectively. 

Ther.    Where,  and  when,  Aspasio  ? 

Asp.  In  the  most  sacred  place,  and  on 
the  most  solemn  occasion.  And  not  you 
only,  but  a  whole  multitude  of  self-con- 
demned criminals.  Our  church,  you  know, 
has  ingrafted  the  decalogue  into  her  public 
ser\'ice ;  and  taught  all  her  members  to  an- 
swer, after  the  repetition  of  each  command- 
ment, "  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us,  and 
incline  our  hearts  to  keep  this  law."  Is 
there  any  sense  in  these  words?  or  have 
we  any  meaning  when  we  lUter  them  ?  If 
we  have,   surel}'  they  must  imply   an  ac- 


•  Rom.  vii.  7.  Aspasio's  oliservation  brings  to  my 
remembrance  a  remarkable  incident ;  wliich,  as  it  is  - 
quite  pertinent  to  our  purpose,  the  reader  will  allow 
me  to  relate.  It  passed  between  a  friend  of  mine,  and 
a  certain  ingenious  stranger,  into  whose  company  he 
happened  to  fall.  The  gentleman  was  extolling,  at 
an  extravagant  rate,  the  virtue  of  honesty  ;  what  a 
dignity  it  imparted  to  our  nature!  how  it  recom- 
mended us  to  the  Supreme  Being  !  he  confirmed  all 
by  a  celebrated  line  from  Mr.  Pope. 

"  An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God." 

.Sir,  replied  my  friend,  however  excellent  the  virtue 
of  lionesty  may  be,  I  fear,  there  are  ^ery  few  men  in 
the  world  that  really  possess  it.  You  surprise  me, 
said  the  stranger.  Ignorant  as  I  am  of  your  charac- 
ter. Sir,  I  fancy  it  would  be  no  difficult  matter  to 
prove  even  you  a  dishonest  man.  I  defy  you.  Will 
you  give  me  leave,  then,  to  ask  you  a  question  or 
two,  and  promise  not  to  be  offended?  Ask  your 
questions,  and  welcome.  Have  you  never  met  with 
an  opportunity  of  getting  gain  by  some  unfair  means  ? 
The  gentleman  paused.  1  do  not  ask,  whether  you 
made  use  of,  but  whether  you  have  met  with  such 
opportunity?  I,  for  my  pait,  have;  and  I  believe 
every  body  else  has.  Very  probably  I  may.  How 
did  you  feel  your  mind  affected,  on  such  an  occasion  ? 
Had  you  no  secret  desire,  not  the  least  inclination,  to 
seize  the  advantage  which  offered  ?  Tell  me,  without 
any  evasion,  and  consistently  with  the  character  you 
admire.  I  must  acknowledge  I  have  not  always 
been  absolutely  free  from  every  irregular  inclination, 
but— Hold,  Sir,  none  of  your  salvos.  You  have  con- 
fessed enough.  If  you  had  the  desire,  though  you 
never  proceeded  to  the  action,  this  shows  you  was 
dishonest  in  heart.  This  is  what  the  scripture  calls 
concupiscence.  It  defiles  the  soul.  It  is  a  breach  of 
that  law,  which  "requireth  truth  in  the  inner  p.irts;" 
and,  unless  you  are  pardoned  through  the  blood  of 
Clinst,  will  hca  just  ground  of  your  condenuiation, 
••  wlKii  Oud  sliall  judge  the  secrets  of  men." 


DIALOGUE  VIII. 


•2i\l 


knowledgment  of  disobedioiire  in  every  par- 
ticular. The  criniinal  arraigned  at  the  bar 
never  falls  on  his  knees,  and  craves  for- 
giveness, till  he  either  corifcsses  or  is  con- 
victed. This  then  must  be  the  purjjort  of 
our  response.  "  We  are  verily  guilty  con- 
cerning this  thing.  And  we  humbly  im- 
plore, both  pardoning  mercy  for  the  past, 
and  strengthening  grace  for  the  future." 

(live  me  leave  to  urge  my  question  a 
little  farther.  Is  there  a  single  day  in 
which  you  have  not  transgressed,  some  way 
or  other,  this  sacred  rule  ? 

Titer.  If  the  law  of  (Jod  will  dispense 
with  no  deviation,  not  e\'en  the  (irst  starts 
of  thought,  or  the  least  wanderings  of  de- 
sire— But  surely  to  affirm  this,  is  to  extend 
the  law  beyond  all  reasonable  bounds.  The 
motions  of  evil  desire,  if  indulged,  are  un- 
doubtedly criminal.  But  are  they  also, 
wlien  restrained,  breaches  of  duty  ?  I  should 
rather  imagine,  that  such  temptations  are 
tlirown  in  our  \\ay  for  the  trial  of  our  obe- 
dience— which,  had  they  no  i)Ower  over  our 
affections,  would  not  be  trials  ;  and  when 
they  are  resolutely  withstood,  cannot  be 
faults. 

Asp.  What  was  the  judgment  of  our  re- 
formers ?  And  what  is  the  voice  of  our 
church  ?  We  may  find  both  in  the  ninth 
article.  "  Although  there  is  no  condemna- 
tion for  them  that  believe  and  are  baptized, 
yet  the  apostle  doth  confess,  that  concupis- 
cence and  lust  hath  of  itself  the  nature  of 
sin."  It  is  not  said,  concupiscence  hath 
then  only  the  nature  of  sin  when  it  is  ripen- 
ed into  action  ;  but  of  itself,  and  before  it 
breaks  out  into  the  commission  of  iniquity. 
Of  itself  it  is  contrary  to  the  piu-e  nature, 
and  therefore  cannot  but  be  condemned  by 
the  perfect  law  of  God. 

Ther.  This  I  can  truly  plead  in  my  own 
belialf,  that  it  has  not  been  customaiy  with 
me  to  offend  ;  at  least  not  presumptuously, 
or  of  deliberate  wickedness. 

Asp.  My  dear  Theron,  do  not  offer  to 
palliate  your  guilt.  Such  an  opiate  may  stu- 
pify,  but  will  not  ciu'e ;  or  rather,  like 
opiates  ill  ])reparcd,  it  will  intoxicate  the 
mind,  and  counteract  the  operation  of  eveiy 
healing  medicine.  Besides,  it  is  not  only 
pernicious,  but  false  and  unreasonable. 
You  know  the  use  of  that  solar  microscope, 
and  are  able  to  inform  me  of  its  effects. 

Titer.  I  ought  to  be  pretty  well  acquaint- 
ed with  these  experiments  ;  since  it  has 
long  been  my  favourite  diversion  to  employ 
a  few  S})are  liours  in  such  agreeable  specu- 
lations. 

Asp.  You  have  seen  the  body  of  an  in- 
sect, accommodated  to  the  surprising  in- 
strument. When,  in  this  situation,  the 
animal  was  pricked  by  a  very  fine  needle, 
your  eye,  your  naked  eye,  just  perceived  the 
])ui;cture,  and  discovered,  perhaps  a  sjx'ck 


of  moisture  oozing  from  the  orifice.  But 
in  \vhat  manner  were  they  represented  by 
the  magnifying  instrument? 

Ther.  The  puncture  was  widened  into  a 
frightful  gash  ;  the  speck  of  moisture  swell- 
ed into  a  copious  stream,  and  flowed  like 
a  torrent  from  the  gaping  wound.  An  ox, 
under  the  sacj'ificing  knife,  scarce  looks 
more  bulky,  or  bleeds  more  largely. 

Asp.  Do  you  not  apprehend  my  design  ? 
— If  we,  short-sighted  mortals,  and  almost 
blinded  with  self-love  ;  if  we  cannot  but  be 
sensible  of  our  faults,  how  flagrant  must 
they  appear,  in  what  enormous  magnitudes, 
and  with  what  aggravating  circumstances,  to 
an  eye  perfectly  pure  and  infinitely  penetrat- 
ing ! 

Instead  of  attempting  to  extenuate  our 
offences,  lei  us  make  some  such  improving 
reflections:  "  If  tliis  holy  law,  which  pro- 
hibits the  minutest  failure,  from  the  indict- 
ment ;  if  this  all-discerning  God,  who  sifts 
our  conduct  even  to  the  smallest  defect,  be 
the  judge;  if  our  personal  goodness,  which 
abounds  with  imperfections,  be  our  pleaj 
what  can  we  ex])ect  at  that  decisive  hour, 
when  the  Lord  shall  "lay  judgment  to  the 
line,  and  righteousness  to  the  plunnnet?" 
(Isa.  xviii.  17.)  Surely,  this  consideration 
should  incline  us  to  adopt  the  v\'ise  and  ar- 
dent wish  of  the  apostle,  "  That  we  may" 
now,  in  this  our  day,  "win  Christ,  and" 
at  the  last  tremendous  audit,  be  "  found  in 
him  ;  not  having  our  own  righteousness, 
which  is  of  the  law,"  for  the  foundation  of 
our  hopes,  "  but  the  righteousness  which 
is  of  God,  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ."  (Phil, 
iii.  8,  9  ) 

Consider  the  law  in  its  nobler  capacity, 
as  enjoining  whatever  is  excellent.  Can 
you  hope.  Thereon,  to  be  justified  by  it,  if 
you  fall  short  of  its  demands,  not  barely  in 
a  few  instances,  I)ut  in  every  action  of  your 
life,  and  every  temper  of  your  heart? 

Ther.  Such  a  hope,  cherished  amidst  such 
circumstances,  would  be  fallacious  and  ab- 
surd. But  I  trust,  I  am  not  so  very  faulty, 
or  rather  so  entirely  abandoned,  as  your  in- 
terrogatory supjioses. 

Asp.  Have  you  duly  weighed  the  perfec- 
tion and  spirituality  of  the  divine  law  ?  It 
is  a  transcript  of  the  mispotted  i)urity  and 
absolute  rectitude  of  the  divine  nature.  It 
reiiuires  an  unreserved  obedience  to  all 
God's  commands,  and  a  most  unfeigned 
submission  to  all  his  dispensations  ;  with- 
out regrching  the  former  as  a  grievous  yoke, 
or  repining  at  the  latter  as  rigorous  treat- 
ment. It  calls,  not  only  for  exteriml  duty, 
but  also  for  the  most  ujiright  imaginations, 
and  devout  affections.  Nay,  it  insists  upon 
the  exercise  of  every  virtue,  and  that  in  the 
highest  degree :  love  to  God,  without  the 
least  Inkewarmness,  and  love  to  all  our 
neighbours,     without   anv    uiikiiulness  ;    a 


23B 


TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


!«anctity  of  desire,  tluit  knows  no  stain,  ami 
a  humility  of  mind  that  is  free  fiom  all 
elatement.  In  a  M-ord,  it  requires  us  to  be 
perfect,  "even  as  our  Father  which  is  in  hea- 
ven is  perfect."* 

Do  any  of  your  actions  come  up  to  this 
exalted  standard  ?  Are  any  of  your  graces 
thus  refined  ? 

Ther.  Am  I  then  absolutely  an  insolvent 
before  the  great  Lord  of  the  universe? 
Have  I  no  lamb  in  my  fold  without  a  ble- 
mish ?  nothing  in  my  life,  nothing  in  my 
heart,  but  viliat  is  defective  and  detiled  ? 

Asp.  Indeed,  my  friend,  this  is  not  your 
condition  alone,  but  the  condition  of  the 
most  irreproacliable  person  on  earth.  Tiiere 
is  none  perfect,  in  any  character,  or  in  any 
work,  no  not  one.  None  that  obeys  the 
divine  la\v,  uniformly,  invariably,  and  com- 
pletely. 

Cast  your  eye  upon  the  names  which  are 
subjoined  to  those  beautiful  prints.  How 
elegant  is  the  engraving  !  How  accurate 
are  the  letters  !  The  strokes  most  delicate- 
ly fine  !  Their  shape  most  exactly  true  ! 
Let  me  ask  you  to  transcribe  them  with 
your  pen  ;  and  make  the  copy  equal  to  the 
original.  Preserve  all  the  noble  boldness 
of  the  Roman  stamp,  and  all  the  gracefid 
softness  of  the  Italian  touch.  What !  could 
you  not  execute  this  task,  even  in  your  pre- 
sent unimpaired  health,  and  with  the  exer- 
tion of  all  your  .skill?  How  shamefully 
then  must  you  fall  short,  if  your  eyes  were 
dim  with  age  ;  if  your  hands  shook  with  a 
paralytic  disorder,  and  your  understanding 
was  oppressed  with  a  lethargic  dulness  ! 
Such  is  really  the  case  with  regard  to  all 
the  children  of  men.  Our  nature  is  de- 
praved ;  our  moral  abilities  are  enervated  ; 
and  our  intellectual  faculties  clouded.  And 
can  we,  in  such  a  state  of  impotence,  tran- 
scribe that  sacred  system,  which  is  the  very 
image  of  God — transcribe  it  into  our  tem- 
pers, and  render  it  legible  in  our  lives,  with- 
out diminisliing  one  jot  or  tittle  of  its  per- 
fect purity. 

Ther.  Though  I  fall  short,  there  are 
Christians  of  a  much  higher  class  ;  Christ- 
ians, I  do  not  doubt,  who  have  these  laws 
written  on  their  hearts,  aU  whose  tem- 
pers   are    cast   into    this   heavenly  mould. 


*  Mat.  V.  48.  Our  Lord,  having  explained  several 
commandments  of  the  law,  sums  up  the  whole,  and 
<;ives  us  the  spirit  of  them  all,  in  this  most  refined 
precept ;  "  Be  ye  perfect,  even,"  <S:c.  If  the  reader 
pleases  to  take  this  passage  into  consideration,  he  will 
nave  a  more  satisfactory  answer  to  Theron's  objec- 
tion, concerning  the  first  motions  of  evil  desire;  more 
satisfactory,  I  mean,  than  was  suggested  in  the  pre- 
ceding pages.  There  the  reply  turned  ujion  human 
testimony  ;  here  it  rests  upon  divine  authority. 

I  hope,  the  candid  reader  will,  on  other  occasions, 
remember  this  observation.  And  if,  at  any  time,  the 
strongest  reasons  are  not  assigned,  let  him  suppose  it 
probable,  that  they  are  omitted  in  one  place,  only  to 
be  introduced  and  urged,  perhaps  wiihyre.-.tcr  advr.n- 
age,  in  another. 


Nor  am  I  myself  without  hopes  of  making 
more  considerable  advances  in  holiness. 

Asp.  May  your  hopes  be  quickened  into 
vigorous  endeavours,  and  your  endea\-ours 
be  crowned  with  abundant  success  !  What 
you  suppose  concerning  very  eminent 
Christians,  I  cannot  wholly  admit,  neither 
do  I  wholly  deny.  They  may  have  all 
their  tempers  cast  into  the  heavenly  mould  ; 
but  then  they  are  confoimed  to  the  sacred 
pattern  only  in  part.  There  is  a  resem- 
blance, yet  not  such  as  that  clear  and  steady 
mirror  (pointing  to  a  fine  glass  over  the 
chimney-piece)  exhibits,  but  such  as  some 
turbulent  and  muddy  stream  reflects.  If 
the  breasts  of  these  eminent  Christians 
were  formed  on  the  model  of  Drusus'* 
house,  I  verily  think  you  would  have  a 
lower  opinion  of  their  acquisitions  and  vir- 
tue. 

David,  whom  God  himself  dignifies  with 
the  most  exalted  of  all  characters,  and 
"  styles  a  man  after  his  own  heart ;"  who 
to  a  most  inflamed  love  added  a  most  accu- 
rate knowledge  of  the  divine  testimonies, 
was  deeply  sensible  of  the  truth  I  would 
inculcate.  After  an  attentive  contempla- 
tion of  the  sublimity,  the  extent,  the  sancti- 
ty of  those  heavenly  institutes,  he  breaks 
out  into  this  humbling  exclamation,  "  Who 
can  tell  how  oft  he  offendeth?"  (  Psalm  xix. 
]'2. )  "  Was  the  most  vigilant  conduct,  or 
the  most  purified  soul,  examined  by  this 
consiunmate  rule,  innumerable  would  be 
found  the  slips  of  the  former,  and  glaring 
would  the  failures  of  the  latter  appear." 

Ther.  I  cannot  see  the  reason  for  de- 
grading hinnan  nature  to  such  an  extrava- 
gant degree,  and  ranking  hum.an  works 
among  the  refuse  of  things. 

Asp.  Do  you  ask  the  reason  of  this  re- 
monstrance ?  It  is  to  preserve  us  from  the 
mischievous  error  of  the  Pharisee,  who, 
measuring  himself,  not  by  the  true,  sub- 
lime, and  extensive  sense  of  the  law,  but 
by  a  false,  debased,  and  mutilated  interpre- 
tation, became  haughty  in  his  own  conceit, 
and  abominal)le  in  the  sight  of  God.  Hear 
him  trumpeting  his  own  praise  :  "  I  am  no 
extortioner,  no  adulterer."  (Luke  xviii. 
11.)  This  the  poor  vain  creature  fancied 
was  a  suflScient  obedience  paid  to  the  second 
table.  See  him  still  strutting  in  his  own 
imaginary  plumes  :f   "1    fast  twice  in  the 


*  When  Drusus,  a  noble  Roman,  was  deliberating 
upon  a  mode'  for  his  new  house,  the  architect  oftere-i 
to  build  it  in  such  a  taste  that  no  eye  should  overlook 
any  of  his  rooms.  "  You  quite  mistake  my  inclina- 
tion," said  Drusus,  "  I  am  for  the  reverse  of  your 
plan.  I  would  have  my  house  so  contrived  that  every 
passenger  may  see  whatever  is  transacted  within." 

f  This  seems  to  give  the  genuine  signification  of 
TO  v-^TiXo't  iv  ail^oizoii.  Luke  xvi.  15,  not  "that 
which  is  highly  esteemed."  evt;.:!o»  sv?^!^*.  The 
proposition,  taken  in  Ibis  sense,  is  neither  nece.^saiy 
nor  universally  true.     The  nieeknc»s  of  Moses,  the 


( 


DIALOGUE  VIII. 


week  ;  I  give  tithes  of  all  that  I  possess." 
(Liike  xviii.  l-.)  This  he  foolishly  dream- 
ed was  a  due  compliance  with  the  demands 
of  the  first  table.  The  young  ruler  seems 
to  have  been  under  the  same  delusion,  uheii 
he  had  the  assm-ance  to  declare,  "  all  these 
things,"  which  are  prescribed  by  the  divine 
law,  "have  I  kept  from  my  youth  up." 
(Matt.  xix.  20.) 

A  more  pestilent  opinion  it  is  scarce  pos- 
sible for  the  mind  of  m;ui  to  entertain,  and 
nothing  can  appear  more  egrcgiously  mis- 
taken, if  we  consider  the  vast  comprehen- 
sive scope  of  the  sacred  precepts,  and  are 
convinced  that  they  require  a  most  exact 
conformity,  in  every  piuticidar  and  every 
punctilio. 

Ther.  Is  there  nothing  ^•aluable,  then,  in 
regularity  of  conduct  and  integrity  of  heart ."" 
nothing  valuable  in  oiu"  acts  of  charity,  and 
habits  of  virtue  ?  nothing  whatsoever  that 
may  recommend  us  to  our  Maker  ? 

Asp.  From  our  fellow-creatures  they 
stand  entitled  to  respect,  imitation,  and  gra- 
titude ;  but  before  infinite  perfection,  they 
must  drop  their  claim,  and  Lie  prostrate  in 
the  dust,  imploring  forgiveness,  not  chal- 
lenging a  reward.  We  all  discern  a  beauty 
and  a  twinkling  lustre  in  the  stars,  when 
\'iewed  under  the  shades  of  night.  But 
when  the  magnificent  source  of  day  arises, 
their  beauty  vanishes,  theu-  lustre  is  dark- 
ness. Such  are  human  accomplishments 
when  com])ared  with  the  perfect  law,  or 
beheld  by  the  piercing  eye  of  the  supremely 
glorious  God. 

Tlier.  Methinks  this  notion  confounds 
the  difference  of  good  and  evil  and  by  ren- 
dering all  our  actions  blamable  would  ren- 
der them  all  alike.  This  is  levelling  with 
a  witness ! 

Asp.  It  only  show's,  that  there  are  ble- 
mishes in  all ;  whereas,  some  are  flaw  and 
blemish  all  over.  Is  there  no  difference 
between  the  leopard's  spots,  and  the  raven's 
foot?  If  I  maintain  that  neither  of  those 
animals  are  perfectly  white,  does  this  imply 
that  both  are  equally  black  ? 

All  we  perform,  however  specious  it  may 
seem,  is  very  far  short  of  our  elevated  rule  ; 
therefore  cannot  procure  the  divine  fa- 
vour, or  entitle  us  to  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven. Nay,  if  God  should  ciiter  into  judg- 
ment witli  us,  (m  the  foot  of  oiu'  own  per- 
formances, he  would  discover  such  defects, 
even  in  the  choicest  instances  of  our  obe- 
dience, as  must  render  them  matter  of  con- 
demnation,* not  meritorious  of  applause. 


fortitude  of  Joshua,  the  wisdom  of  Solomon,  were 
highly  esteemed  among  those  very  men  to  whom  our 
Lord  addressed  his  discourse;  yet  none  can  svippose, 
that  the  endowments  of  those  illustrious  personages 
were  "  an  ahomination  in  the  siaht  of  God." 

*  To  this  assertion  St.  Cyril  hears  a  very  express 
tesLiiiiony  :  "  Even  those  of  our  actions  which  seem 
til  1)0  perlbrmed  in  a  right  manner,  could  not  escape 


2:39 

Be  pleased  to  observe  this  penknife — 
AVhat  can  be  more  exquisitely  keen  than 
the  edge,  or  more  nicely  polished  than  the 
blade  ;  but  how  do  tliey  appear  when  be- 
held  through  one  of  those  microscopes? 

Ther.  The  edge  less  sharp  than  the 
woodman's  axe,  or  rather  more  blunt  than 
his  iron  wedge.  The  polish  resembles  a 
mass  of  coarse  metal,  rudely  hammered  on 
the  anvil. 

Asp.  How  very  delicate  is  the  cambric, 
which  forms  your  ruffles,  and  gives  such  an 
ornamental  air  to  your  whole  dress !  No- 
thing can  be  fin.er  than  the  threads,  or  more 
exact  than  the  texture.  But  what  is  their 
appciirance  in  a  microscopic  view  ? 

Ther.  You  would  take  the  fine  threads 
for  hempen  cords ;  and  would  almost  be 
positive,  that. they  had  been  watded  toge- 
ther by  the  clumsy  hands  of  the  hurdle- ma- 
ker, rather  than  curiously  wove  in  the  ar- 
tist's loom. 

Asp.  That  lovely  piece  of  enamel,  which 
makes  a  part  of  yoiu-  lady's  pensile  equipage, 
quite  charms  the  spectator  with  the  just- 
ness of  its  figiu-e,  and  the  radiancy  of  its 
coloius.     But — 

Ther.  Under  the  scnitiny  of  this  search- 
ing instrument  it  loses  all  its  elegance  ;  and 
instead  of  winning  oiu- admiration,  provokes 
oiu-  contempt.  It  looks  like  a  heap  of  mor- 
tal- plastered  on  by  the  mason's  trowel. 

Asp.  You  see  then,  Theron,  what  gross 
indelicacies,  what  bungling  inequalities,  this 
supplementary  aid  to  onr  sight  discovers, 
even  in  the  most  finished  works  of  human 
art.  So,  and  abundantly  more,  does  the 
immaculate  purity  of  God  discern  imper- 
fections in  our  most  upright  deeds  and  most 
guarded  hours. 

I  said  immaculate,  and  I  ought  to  have 
said  more  ;  for  God  is  not  only  unerringly 
wise  to  detect,  but  infinitely  pure  to  abhor, 
all  contamination.  Angels,  and  the  spirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect,  are  endowed  \dtli 
immaculate,  but  the  Lord  is  possessed  of  in- 
finite jmrity.  Have  you  considered  this 
attribute  of  the  Godhead,  Theron  ? 

Ther.  I  have ;  and  not  without  amaze- 
ment at  the  charming,  the  awful  descrip- 
tions of  it,  which  occur  in  the  sacred  writ- 
ings. God  is  not  only  holy,  but,  as  the 
lawgiver  of  the  Jews  veiy  sublimely  ex- 
presses himself,  "  glorious  in  holiness," 
Exod.  XV.  11.  The  sacred  penmen,  treating 
of  this  illustrious  perfection,  seem  to  la- 
bour the  important  point.  They  indulge 
the  loftiest  flights  of  imagination  :  they 
em])loy  the  boldest  figures  of  speech ;  and 
add  the  most  glowing  colours  of  eloquence  ; 
not  without  frequent  acknowledgments, 
that  all  the  force  of  language  is  abiuidantly 
too  feeble  for  the  unutterable  subject. 

censure  and  blame,  if  God  should  examine  and  h:  iuj 
them  to  the  test." 


^40 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


One  of  the  prophets,  addressing  the 
King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible,  breaks 
out  into  this  ecstatie  exclamation  :  "  O 
Lord,  my  God,  my  Holy  One,  thou  ar-t  of 
purer  eyes  than"  (to  allow,  shall  I  say  ? 
This  is  an  ascrij)tion  of  praise  unspeakably 
too  mean  for  thy  siu^passing  excellency  : 
Thou  art  of  purer  eyes  than)  "  to  look  upon 
evil,  and  canst  not  behold  iniquity,"  (Hab.  i. 
13.)  Anotlier,  wrapt  into  a  prophetic  vi- 
sion, sees  the  seraphim  veiling  their  faces 
in  token  of  profound  humiliation  ;  hears 
those  sons  of  ardour  and  love,  crying  in 
loud  responsive  strains,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy 
is  the  Lord  God  of  Sabbaoth!"*  Nay,  so 
transcendently  holy,  says  another  devout 
worshipper,  that  all  created  glory  is  totally 
eclipsed  in  his  presence  :  "  He  looketh  to 
the  moon,  and  it  shineth  not ;  yea,  the  stars 
are  not  pure  in  his  sight,  (Job.   xxv.  5.) 


*  Isa  \i.  .!.  The  poets  and  writers  of  a  bold  ima- 
gination are  particularly  fond  of  machinery  ;  of 
introducing  celestial  beings,  in  order  to  give  some  pe- 
culiar digmty  to  their  plan,  or  someadditional  strength 
to  their  sentiments.  With  what  inimitable  propriety 
and  surprising  emphasis  is  this  species  of  fine  writing 
used  in  scripture,  especially  in  the  passage  ciiioted 
above. 

Let  us  only  consider  the  personages.  These  are 
the  seraphim ;  pure  and  active  spirits,  likened  by  the 
psalmist  to  flames  of  fire ;  styled  by  the  apostle  domi- 
nions and  principalities  o/  heaven,  who  excel  in 
strength  and  wisdom,  in  every  high  and  bright  accom- 
plishment. Their  attitude.  They  wait  around  the 
King  immortal,  seated  on  his  exalted  throne.  They 
stand ;  are  in  a  posture  of  service ;  with  their  wings 
outstretched,  ready  to  fly  at  the  first  signal.  They 
stand  not  with  their  eyes  reverently  cast  down,  but 
with  their  faces  covered,  to  denote  the  deepest  self- 
abasement  ,  as  creatures  that  are  conscious  and  asham- 
ed of  their  own  meanness,  or  as  overcome  with  the 
insupportable  glories  which  beam  from  uncreated 
majesty.  Their  action.  They  celebrate,  not  in  cold 
conversation,  but  with  rapturous  songs,  not  with 
single  voices  but  in  a  grand  choir,  (see  Psalm  Ixxxvii. 
5,  6.)  the  amiable  yet  tremendous  sanctity  of  the 
Lord  Almighty.  Their  manner  of  expression.  Though 
tilled  and  penetrated  with  the  prodigious  theme,  they 
attempt  not  to  describe  it.  Impracticable  that,  even 
by  the  tongue  of  angels !  They  express  themselves, 
therefore,  m  the  langiiage  of  jirofound  admiration, 
in  repeated,  in  reiterated  accl.imations  to  the  wonder- 
ful attribute;  "  Holy  !  holy!  holy  !"  Tlie  effectsof 
this  august  appearance.  The  posts  of  the  door  shake 
at  the  voice, — the  ponderous  and  magnificent  pillars 
of  brass  (see  2  Chron.  iii.  17,)  tremble  like  a  leaf. 
The  spacious  and  beautiful  house  is  filled  with  tokens 
of  the  divine  indignation;  i- involved  in  clouds  of 
smoke;  and  joins  with  the  trembling  columns,  and 
adoring  serajjhs,  to  tell  the  thoughtless  world,  "  what 
a  fearful  thing  it  is  to  tall  into  the  hands  of  the  living 
God  .'"  The  prophet  himself  is  struck  with  astonish- 
ment,— is  overwhelmed  with  awe, — and  cries  out, 
"  as  a  woman  in  her  pangs." — Can  any  thing  be  more 
enlivened,  impressive,  and  alarming  ? 

If  I  shall  not  trespass  upon  the  reader's  patience,  I 
would  beg  leave  to  add  a  remark  concerning  the  word 
Sabaoth,  which,  though  a.  Hebrew  expression,  is  re- 
tained in  that  excellent  hymn  entitled  Te  Deum  ;  and 
which  some  people,  I  am  inclined  to  believe,  inadver- 
tently confound  with  Sabbath.  The  latter  signifies 
the  rest  of  tlie  seventh  day,  and  in  this  connexion, 
yields  a  sense  not  very  apposite,  and  comparatively 
mean.  Whereas,  the  former  denotes  armies  or  hosts, 
and  furnishes  us  with  an  image  truly  grand  and  ma- 
jestic, \yorthy  to  be  admitted  into  the  songs  of  seraphs. 
It  glorifies  God,  as  the  great,  universal,  uncontrol- 
lable Sovereign,  who  exercises  a  supreme  dominion 
over  all  the  orders  of  being,  from  the  loftiest  arch- 
angel that  shines  in  heaven,  to  the  lowest  reptile 
that  crawls  in  dust ;  who  says  to  a  legion  of  cherubs. 
Go:  and  tliey  go;— to  a  swarm  of  insects.  Come;  and 
they  con\e;— to  any,  to  every  creature,  Do  this  ;  and 
they  do  it.    See  Matth.  viii. !). 


And  "his  very  angels,"  those  refined  and  ex- 
alted intelligences,  "  be  chargeth  with 
foUy."(Job.  iv.  18.) 

Asp.  Veiy  majestic  descriptions  !  And 
pray  let  us  observe  the  impressions  which 
such  beamings  of  the  div-ine  effulgence  made 
upon  the  saints  of  old.  Moses,  drawing 
near  the  cloudy  pavilion,  the  presence- 
chamber  of  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  says, 
with  emotions  of  uncommon  dread,  "  I  ex- 
ceedingly fear  and  quake  !"  (Heb.  xii.  21.) 
Wlien  Job  is  favoured  with  some  peculiar 
manifestations  of  the  omnipotent  God,  see 
his  posture  !  hear  his  words  !  "  I  abhor  my- 
self, and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes,"  (Job 
xlii.  6.)  How  strong  is  the  language  !  how 
deep  the  abasement !  When  Isaiah  saw  the 
incomprehensible  Jehovah  sitting  upon  his 
throne,  and  the  princes  of  heaven  adoring 
at  his  footstool,  seized  Avith  a  pang  of  reve- 
rential fear,  he  cried  out,  "  Woe  is  me !  I 
am  undone  !  for  I  am  a  man  of  unclean 
lips  !"  (Isa.  \a.  5.)  When  Ezekiel  beheld 
an  emblematical  representation  of  him  who 
dwelleth  in  light  inaccessible ;  when  ^he 
Ancient  of  Days,  veiled  under  a  human 
shape,  appeared  to  Daniel ;  though  one  was 
a  devout  priest,  and  each  was  an  eminent 
prophet,  yet,  overwhelmed  with  a  mixture 
of  veneration  and  terror,  they  both  "  fell 
down  at  his  feet  as  dead,"  (Ezek.  i.  28; 
Dan.  x.  8,  9  ;)  and  this,  not  before  a  fidl 
display,  but  only  before  a  glimpse  of  the 
Godhead,  wliich,  though  partial  and  tran- 
sient, was  too  dazzlingly  bright  for  an  eye 
of  flesh  to  bear. 

O  my  friend  !  my  Theron  !  what  figure 
must  our  mean  performances,  our  low  at- 
tainments, make  before  this  immensely  glo- 
rious God  ?  Let  us  examine  the  behavioiu" 
and  spirit  of  Job  a  little  more  particularly. 
He  is  one  of  your  favourite  examples,  and 
indeed  very  deservedly,  for  in  piety  he  had 
no  superior  and  no  equal — "  there  was  none 
like  him  in  the  earth  ;"  yet,  when  he  has  to 
do  with  the  Maker  of  all  things,  and  the 
Judge  of  aU  men,  he  poin-s  out  his  abashed 
soul  in  these  verj'  remarkable  professions  ; 
"  If  I  justify  myself,  my  own  mouth  shall 
condemn  me  ;  if  I  say  1  am  perfect,  it  shall 
also  prove  me  ])erverse." — (Job.  ix.  20,21, 
30,  31,  32.)  He  declares  yet  farther,  "  If 
I  wash  myself  in  snow  water,  and  make  iny 
hands  never  so  clean,  yet  shalt  thou,"  O 
righteous  and  eternal  God,  "  plunge  mc  in 
the  ditch ;"  manifest  me,  notwithstanding 
all  this  care  and  circumspection,  to  be  a 
guilty  and  filthy  creature;  yea,  so  very  guilty 
and  filthy,  that  my  own  clothes,  were 
they  sensible  of  the  pollution,  could  not 
but  abhor  me. 

This  he  confesses,  not  because  he  wns 
an  habitual  sinner,  or  chargeable  with  any 
scandiilous  immorality,  but  because  his  miixi 
was  filled  with  the  most   affecting  sense  of 


DIALOGUE  VIII. 


241 


God's  inconceivable  lioliness  and  infinite 
glory.  "  tor,"  adds  the  venerable  sufferer, 
"  he  is  not  a  man  as  I  am  ;"  but  a  Being  of 
such  extensive  knowledge  that  nothing  can 
escape  his  discernment,  of  such  exulted  pu- 
rity that  every  spot  of  defilenient  is  loath 
some  in  his  sight.  For  whicli  reason,  it  is 
absolutely  impossible  that  I  should  an- 
swer him,"  with  reference  to  my  own  per 
sonal  righteousness,  or  that  we  should 
come  together  in  judgment,  on  any  such 
footing,  without  confusion  to  myself,  and 
ruin  to  my  cause. 

To  all  this  he  subjoins,  what  is  still  more 
memorable  and  exemplary.  "  Though  I  were 
perfect,  yet  would  I  not  know  my  soul,  I  would 
despise  my  life."  He  supposes  himself  in 
a  higher  state  than  your  most  advanced  Chris- 
tian, "  though  I  were  perfect ;"  yet  even  in 
such  a  state,  were  it  attainable  and  attained, 
"  I  would  not  knoiv  my  soul ;"  not  dwell 
upon,  not  plead,  no,  nor  so  much  as  cherish 
a  thought  of,  my  own  accomplishments  and 
acquirements.  In  the  important  business  of 
justification,  they  should  stand  for  cj-phers  ; 
they  should  be  thrown  into  shades  ;  they 
should  entirely  disappear.  Nay  more,  "  I 
M'ould  despise  my  life:"  my  life,  with  all 
its  most  sinning  actions  and  most  distin- 
guished virtues,  should  be  reckoned  insigni- 
cantand  despicable,  just  as  insignificant  and 
despicidjle,  with  respect  to  this  great  tran- 
saction, as  a  wandering  spark  \\'ould  be,  if 
appointed  to  diffuse  day  amidst  the  darkness 
of  night,  or  jtroduce  spring  amidst  the  depths 
of  winter. 

Ther.  These  are  alarming  hints,  Aspasio, 
I  must  confess.  A  Law  which  requires  an 
exact  and  universal  obedience,  both  in  heart 
and  life  !  A  God  of  such  majesty,  purity, 
and  glory,  that  men  of  the  most  approved 
integrity  are  overwhelmed  with  confusion 
in  his  presence !  I  shall  consider  them  at 
my  leisure  with  the  attention  they  deserve. 
At  present,  I  believe  opportunity  is  giving 
us  the  slip.  Yonder  coach  seems  to  be 
moving  this  way,  and  the  livery  looks  like 
Philander's. 

Aspasio,  desirous  to  fix  those  convic- 
tions, which  are  of  the  last  consequence  to 
our  faith  and  salvation — very  desirous  to 
fix  them  on  his  friend's  mind,  replied : 

Asp.  As  your  visitants  are  at  a  distance, 
give  me  leave  to  observe,  that  the  wisest  of 
men,  attending  to  the  first  of  these  particu- 
lars, has  poured  contempt  upon  all  human 
excellency  :  "  There  is  not  a  just  man  upon 
earth,  that  doeth  good,  and  siimeth  not." 
(Eccl  vii  20.)  The  apostle  of  Christ  takes 
shame  to  himself  on  the  same  account,  and 
teaches  all  mankind  to  strike  the  sail  of 
self-conceit :  "  In  many  things  we  offend 
all."  (James  iii.  2-)  Pavid,  considering 
tlie  latter  of  these  points,  prays  with  the 
utmost  earnestness,  "  Enter  not  into  judg- 


ment with  thy  servant,  O  Lord  !"  and  as- 
signs this  humbling  reason  for  his  petition, 
"  for  in  thy  sight  shall  no  man  living  be 
justified."  (Psalm  cxliii.  2.)  This  induced 
Nehemiah,  who  had  been  so  nobly  zealous 
for  the  honour  of  his  God,  not  to  confide 
in  his  own  valuable  services,  but  make 
application  to  forgiving  goodness  :  "  Spare 
me,  O  Lord,  according  to  thy  great  mercy." 
(Neh.  xiii.  22.) 

Had  I  set  before  you  the  example  of  the 
poor  publican,  who  smote  upon  his  breast, 
durst  not  lift  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  but 
cried,  from  the  bottom  of  a  polluted  heart, 
"  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !"  (Luke 
x\iii.  13,)  self-love  might  possibly  have 
wliispered,  "  Surely  I  am  not  to  be  ranked 
with  that  abominable  wretch.  I  stand  upon 
some  better  footing  than  such  an  infamous 
offender."  With  respect  to  the  enjoyment 
of  eternal  life,  we  stand  upon  no  better, 
upon  no  other.  And  when  low  as  that 
obnoxious  despised  creature,  we  are  upon 
the  veiy  same  ground  with  the  most  ex- 
alted saints.  They  all  appear  before  the 
Majesty  of  Heaven,  in  the  same  attitude  of 
unfeigned  humiliation,  and  with  the  same 
acknowledgments  of  utter  unworthiness. 
For  it  is  a  certain  truth,  and  admits  of  no 
exception,  that  to  justify  sinners  is  not  the 
privilege  of  human  obedience,  but  the  sole 
prerogative  of  "the  Lord  our  righteousness." 

Titer.  Is  not  the  practice  of  Hezekiah 
an  exception  to  your  rule  ?  These,  if  I  re- 
collect aright,  are  the  words  of  that  holy 
king  :  "  I  beseech  thee,  O  Lord,  remember 
how  I  have  walked  before  thee  in  truth, 
and  with  a  perfect  heart,  and  have  done 
that  which  is  good  in  thy  sight.  (2  Kings 
XX.  3. )  You  see,  he  puts  the  issue  of  his 
trial  before  the  everlasting  God,  upon  his 
own  integrity  and  his  own  obedience. 

As-p.  These  are  his  words,  but  they  are 
not  used  with  this  view.  He  humbly  re» 
presents  before  the  great  Sovereign  of  the 
world,  how  beneficial  his  former  life  had 
been,  and  how  serviceable  his  prolonged 
life  might  be,  to  the  best  interests  of  the 
Jewish  nation.  He  recurs  to  his  obedience, 
not  that  he  may  establish  his  hope  of  eter- 
nal happiness  in  heaven,  but  that  he  may 
obtain  a  reprieve  from  the  grave,  and  a 
lengthening  of  his  tranquillity  on  earth. 
Neitlier  is  this  obedience  gloried  in  by 
way  of  merit,  but  oidy  pleaded  by  way 
of  argument,  as  thongli  he  had  said,  "  Re- 
member, gracious  God,  how  I  have  ex- 
erted my  royal  authority  to  suppress  idola- 
tiy,  to  extirpate  vice,  and  to  promote  thy 
true  religion.  Consider  hov;  greatly  thy 
pe<»i)le  stand  in  need  of  such  a  vigilant  and 
zealous  governor  ;  and  to  what  a  miserable 
condition  both  church  and  state  may  be  re- 
duced, if  thou  takcst  away  thy  servant  by 
tliis  tlireatened  but  untimelv  stroke.      And, 


24-2 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


for  the  welfai'e  of  Jiidab,  for  the  honour  of 
thy  name,  for  the  support  of  thy  own  wor- 
ship, O  spare  me  a  little  !" 

Aspasio  paused,  expecting  a  reply.  As 
Theron  continued  silent  and  musing,  As- 
pasio, with  a  smile  of  benevolence,  pro- 
ceeded  Come,  my  Theron  !  why  so  deep 

in  thought  ?  Have  you  any  objection  to  the 
evidences  I  have  pioduced !  They  are 
some  of  the  most  dignified  characters  and 
illustrious  personages  that  could  be  selected 
from  all  ages  :  kings,  princes,  and  patriots  ; 
priests,  saints,  and  martyrs.  Should  these 
be  deemed  insufficient,  I  can  exhibit  a  larger 
and  nobler  cloud  of  witnesses  : — larger,  for 
they  ai'e  a  great  multitude,  which  no  man 
can  number,  of  all  nations,  and  kindreds, 
and  people,  and  tongues ;  nobler,  for  they 
stand  before  the  throne,  and  before  the 
Lamb,  clothed  with  white  robes,  and  palms 
in  their  hands.  Ask  those  shining  armies, 
who  they  are,  and  whence  they  came  ? 
Their  answer  is  comprised  in  one  of  my 
favourite  portions  of  scripture,  one  of  those 
delightful  texts,  from  which  I  hope  to  de- 
rive consolation  even  in  my  last  moments. 
For  which  reason,  you  will  allow  me  to  re- 
peat it,  though  it  may  perhaps  be  mention- 
ed in  a  former  conversation  :  "  We  are 
they  who  came  out  of  great  tribulation  ;  and 
have  washed  our  robes,  and  made  them 
white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb ;  therefore, 
are  we  before  the  throne. "  ( Rev.  vii.  1 4, 1 5. ) 

Some  of  them  laid  down  their  lives  for 
the  sake  of  Christ;  many  of  them  were 
eminent  for  works  of  righteousness  ;  aU  of 
them  were  endued  with  real  holiness.  Yet 
none  of  these  qualifications  constituted  their 
passport  into  the  regions  of  endless  felicity. 
They  had  "  wash^j^  their  robes,"  had  fled  to 
the  atonement,  and  pleaded  the  merits  of 
Jesus  their  Saviour.  Hereby  they  had 
"  made  them  white ;"  this  was  the  cause  of 
their  acquittance  from  guilt,  and  their  com- 
plete justification  :  and  therefore,  on  this 
account,  their  persons  were  accepted  ;  they 
were  presented  without  spot  before  the 
throne,  and  admitted  to  that  fulness  of  joy, 
which  is  at  God's  right  hand  for  evermore. 

Ther.  I  have  no  objection  to  your  wit- 
nesses. But,  methinks,  your  doctrine  is 
strangely  debasing  to  human  natiu-e. 

Asp.  A  sign,  Theron,  that  is  agreeable 
to  the  genius  of  the  gospel ;  which  is  cal- 
culated, as  the  eloquent  Isaiah  foretold,  to 
humble  the  sinner,  and  exalt  the  Saviour  :  * 


*  This  corresponds  with  a  very  valuable  maxim, 
which  an  eminent  divine  once  recommended  to  his 
people,  as  a  touchstone  to  distinguish  evangelical 
truth. — '•  That  doctrine,"  he  said,  "  which  tends 

I  o  humble  the  sinner;  i 

To  exalt  the  Saviour; 

To  promote  holiness;" 
That  doctrine  which  tends  to  accomplish  all  these 
designs,  you  may  embrace  as  sound.     That  which  is 
defective  in  its  influence  on  any  one  of  them,  you 
should  reject  as  corrupt. 


"  The  loftiness  of  man  shiill  be  bowed 
down,  tind  the  haughtiness  of  man  shall  be 
made  low,  and  the  Lord  alone  shall  be  ex- 
alted in  that  day. "  ( Isaiah  ii.  11.)  "  Man , 
though  naturally  vain,  shall  be  made  sensi- 
ble of  his  numberless  offences ;  shall  see 
the  defects  which  attend  his  highest  attain- 
ments ;  shall  confess  the  impossibility  of 
being  justified  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  ;  and 
place  all  his  hope  upon  the  propitiatory 
death,  and  meritorious  obedience,  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 


DIALOGUE  IX. 

Theron,  impressed  with  the  last  conver- 
sation, was  very  desirous  to  resume  the  sub- 
ject, and  renew  the  important  debate.  With 
this  view  he  conducted  his  friend  into  a  re- 
tirement commodious  for  the  purpose. 

They  enter  a  spacious  lawn,  which  lay 
opposite  to  the  house,  and  stretched  itself 
in  the  form  of  an  expanded  fan.  The  mounds 
on  either  side  were  dressed  in  verdure,  and 
ran  out  in  a  slanting  direction.  The  whole, 
to  an  eye  placed  at  a  distance,  bore  the  re- 
semblance of  a  magnificent  vista  ;  contract- 
ing by  slow  degrees  its  dimensions,  and  les- 
sening at  last  into  a  point,  which  the  regular 
and  graceful  seat  with  all  imaginable  dignity 
supplied. 

Nature  had  sunk  the  lawn  into  a  gentle 
decline,  on  whose  ample  sides  were  oxen 
browsing  and  lambs  frisking.  The  lusty 
droves  lowed  as  they  past,  and  the  thriving 
flocks  bleated  welcome  music  in  their  mas- 
ter's ear.  Along  the  midst  of  this  verdant 
slope  ran  a  spacious  and  extensive  walk, 
which,  coated  with  gravel,  and  fenced  with 
pallisadoes,  looked  like  a  plain  stripe  of 
brown  intersecting  a  carpet  of  the  brightest 
green.  At  the  bottom,  two  handsome  ca- 
nals, copiously  stocked  with  fish,  floated  to 
the  breeze ;  whose  waters,  beheld  from 
every  front  room  in  the  house,  had  a  fine  ef- 
fect upon  the  sight,  not  without  a  refresh- 
ing influence  on  the  imagination.  At  the 
extremity  of  one  stood  a  stately  colonnade. 
The  roof  was  elevated  on  pillars  of  the 
Ionic  order  ;  and  the  area  slabbed  with 
stones,  neatly  ranged  in  the  diamond  fashion- 
Several  forest  chairs  accommodated  the  ang- 
lers with  a  seat,  while  the  bending  dome 
supplied  them  with  a  shade. 

Corresponding,  and  on  the  margin  of  the 
other  canal,  was  erected  a  summer-house,  of 
a  very  singular  kind — The  lower  part  had 
an  opening  towards  the  north.  It  was  cool ; 
it  was  gloomy  ;  and  had  never  seen  the  sun. 
It  carried  the  romantic  air  of  a  grotto,  or 
rather  the  pensive  appearance  of  a  hermit's 
cell.  The  outside  was  coarse  and  rugged 
with  protuberant  stones.  Partly  overspread 
with  ivy,  partly  covered  with  moss,  it  seem- 
ed to  be  the  work  of  ancient  years.     You 


DIALOGUE  IX. 


2-4  .'i 


descend,  by  steps  of  turf,  tliiougli  a  low  and 
narrow  door.  A  scanty  iron  grate,  instead 
of  a  large  sweeping  sash,  transmits  a  glim- 
mering light,  just  sufficient  to  discover  the 
inner  structure,  which  appeared  like  one 
continued  piece  of  rock-work — a  cavern 
cut,  you  would  imagine,  from  the  surround- 
ing quarry.  Above,  hung  an  irregular  arch, 
with  an  aspect  rather  threatening  than  in- 
viting. Below,  lay  a  paving  of  homely  peb- 
bles ;  in  some  places  a  little  furrowed,  as 
though  it  had  been  worn  by  the  frequent 
tread  of  solitary  feet-  All  around  were  rus- 
ticity and  solemnity  ;  solemnity  never  more 
visibly  seen  than  through  a  gloom.  The 
furniture  of  the  same  grotesque  fashion  with 
the  apartment.  A  bench  hewed,  you  would 
suspect,  by  nature's  chisel,  out  of  the  solid 
stone  ;  a  sort  of  couch,  composed  of  swell- 
ing moss,  and  small  fibrous  roots.  From  one 
corner  trickled  a  pure  spring,  which  crept 
with  a  bubbling  moan  along  the  channelled 
floor,  till  its  healthy  current  was  collected 
into  a  bason,  rudely  scooped  from  the  ground. 
On  the  edge  of  this  little  receptacle  lay 
chained  a  rusty  bowl,  and  over  it  stood  an 
antique  worm-eaten  table.  On  the  least 
obscure  part  of  the  wall  you  discern,  dimly 
discern,  a  parchment  scroll,  inscribed  with 
that  sage,  but  mortifying  admonition,  "  Va- 
nity of  vanities  !  all  is  vanity  !" 

Over  this  recess,  so  pleasingly  horrid,  and 
adapted  to  solemn  musings,  arose  an  open 
and  airy  Behidere.  You  ascend  by  winding 
stairs  ;  and  coming  from  the  uncouth  abode 
below,  are  sweetly  surprised  with  an  elegant 
hexagon.  The  ceiling  lofty,  and  decorated 
with  the  softest,  richest,  almost  flowing  fret- 
work. The  wainscot,  in  pannels  of  oak, 
retained  its  native  auburn  ;  so  beautifully 
plain,  that,  like  an  amiable  countenance,  it 
would  have  been  disfigured,  rather  than  im- 
proved, by  the  most  costly  paint.  On  this 
were  disposed,  in  gilded  frames,  and  to  great 
advantage,  a  variety  of  entertaining  land- 
scapes. But  none  surpassed,  none  equalled, 
all  were  a  foil  to  the  noble,  lovely  views 
which  the  windows  commanded.  The  chim- 
ney-piece, of  white  shining  marble,  streaked 
with  veins  of  vivid  red.  Over  it  was  carv- 
ed a  fine  festoon  of  artificial,  in  it  was  rang- 
ed a  choice  collection  of  natural  flowers.  On 
a  table  of  glossy  walnut  lay  a  portable  tele- 
scope, attended  with  Thomson's  Seasons, 
and   Vanierii  Prcediiim  Rusficum.' 

The  whole  was  fitted  uj)  in  the  highest 
taste,  and  furnished  with  every  pleasurable 
ornament,  on  purpose  to  harmonize  with  that 
lavish  gaiety,  which  seemed  to  smile  over 

*  "  Vanierii  I'nediuin  Rusticum."  A  most  elegant 
Latin  poem  ;  which  treats  of  every  remarkable  pecu- 
liarity relating  to  the  business  of  a  country  life,  or 
the  furniture  of  a  country  scat.  It  entertains  us  with 
a  (lescription  of  the  most  agreeable  objects,  in  an  easy 
How  of  the  purest  language,  and  most  musical  ninn- 
bers. 


all  the  face  of  nature  ;  on  ])iirpose  to  corres- 
pond with  that  vernal  delight,  which  came 
breathing  on  the  wings  of  every  fragrant 
gale  :  I  may  add,  on  purpose  to  remind  the 
bdiolder  of  those  immortal  mansions,  which 
are  decorated  with  images  infinitely  more 
splendid,  with  objects  imspeakably  more 
glorious  ;  where  holy  beings  will  spend,  not 
a  few  vacant  hours  in  refined  amusement, 
but  a  boundless  eternity  in  the  consumma- 
tion of  joy.  For,  to  a  well-turned  mind 
nature  is  a  preceptor;  and  these  are  her  in- 
structive lessons  :  To  the  pure  in  heart, 
even  sense  is  edifying,  and  these  are  its  de- 
licate moralities. 

The  redundant  waters  of  the  canal  rolled 
off  in  a  spreading  cascade  ;  which,  tumbling 
from  many  a  little  precipice,  soothed  the  air 
with  a  symphony  of  soft  and  gurgling 
sounds,  nor  ever  intermitted  the  obliging  of- 
fice, 
"  From  mom  to  noon,  from  noon  to  dewy  eve." 

But  when  the  fanning  breezes  dropt  their 
wings,  when  the  feathered  choir  were  hush- 
ed in  sleep,  when  not  so  much  as  a  chirping 
grasshopper  was  heard  throughout  the  meads, 
this  liquid  instrument  still  played  its  solo, 
still  pursued  its  busy  way,  and  warbled,  as 
it  flowed  melodious  murmurs. 

Asp.  Such,  Theron,  so  imiform,  uninter- 
rupted, and  invariable,  should  be  our  con- 
formity to  the  divine  law.  But,  alas  !  those 
sacred  j)recepts  are  so  exceeding  broad,  that 
the  most  enlarged  human  obedience  is  far 
from  being  commensurate  to  their  extent ; 
so  absolutely  holy,  that  our  highest  attain- 
ments fall  vastly  short  of  their  exalted  per- 
fection. How  then  can  we  expect  justifica- 
tion from  such  a  consummate  rule  ?  How 
dare  we  place  our  dependence  upon  such 
imperfect  duties?  especially  before  a  God 
of  unerring  discernment  and  immaculate  pu- 
rity. 

Ther.  Because  mankind  are  incapable  of 
pleasing  their  Maker,  by  yielding  an  absolute 
and  invariable  obedience  to  the  moral  law  ; 
does  it  follow  from  thence,  that  they  cannot 
render  themselves  acceptable  to  him,  by  an 
universal  course  of  sincere  obedience  ? 

Asp.  I  think  it  follows  from  what  has 
been  already  observed.  If  you  desire  new 
arguments,  they  are  at  hand. 

Tlie  law,  says  the  teacher  of  the  Gentiles, 
is  the  ministration  of  condemnation."  How 
can  this  be  true,  if  it  requires  no  more  than 
a  sincere  obedience  ;  such  as  is  proportion- 
ed to  our  infirm  state  ?  If  this  be  sufficient 
to  justify,  and  entitle  us  to  our  Creator's 
favour,  the  law  ceases  to  be  the  ministration 


*  2  Cor.  iii.  7.  In  this  place,  I  apprehend,  the  apos- 
tle means  the  moral  law,  and  that  principally,  as  that 
alone  was  written  and  engraven  on  stones.  Elsewhere, 
I  believe  he  uses  the  word  in  a  larger  sense  ;  and  in- 
tends to  exclude  all  law  whatever  from  bearing  auy 
shave  in  our  justification. 


214 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


of  condemnation.  It  becomes  (which  is 
flatly  contradictory  to  the  apostle's  doctrine) 
the  ministration  of  righteousness. 

The  law  is  styled,  by  the  same  inspired 
teacher,  "  a  schoolmaster  to  bring  us  to 
Christ.*  How  can  it,  upon  your  supposi- 
tion, be  qualified  for  such  an  office  ?  If  a 
sincere  obedience  be  the  whole  of  its  de- 
mands, it  can  no  longer  direct  us  to  Christ, 
it  will  no  longer  deliver  us  over  to  a  Re-- 
deemer's  merit;  but  must  draw  and  attach 
us  to  itself,  teaching  us  to  look  upon  its 
precepts,  and  our  own  conscientious  observ- 
ance of  them,  as  the  tenure  of  eternal  life. 

Do  you  insist  upon  a  third  proof?  A 
third  presents  itself;  not  so  much  founded 
on  argumentation,  as  deduced  from  example. 
How  was  Abraham,  the  friend  of  God  and 
father  of  the  faithful,  justified  ?  By  a  course 
of  sincere  obedience  ?  No  ;  but  by  faith 
in  the  promised  Messiah.  "  Abraham 
worked  not,"  with  a  view  to  obtain  justifi- 
cation ;  but  believed  on  him,  who  justifieth 
the  ungodly.f  How  was  David,  the  man 
after  God's  own  heart,  justified  ?f  By  his 
zeal  for  the  I^ord,  and  by  his  eminent  ser- 
vices? No  ;  but  by  a  righteousness  imput- 
ed ;  even  that  righteousness  of  the  blessed 
Redeemer,  through  which  "  iniquity  is  for- 
given, and  sin  pardoned."  And  can  we  be 
said  to  walk  humbly,  or  can  we  be  thought 
to  walk  surely,  if,  refusing  to  tread  in  the 
steps  of  these  exemplary  saints,  we  diverge 
into  a  path  of  our  own  devising  ? 

Ther.  "  Of  oiu'  own  devising  I"  No,  my 
friend  ;  there  is  a  milder  law  introduced  by 
the  gospel,  condescending  and  merciful  to 
our  infirmities,  which  accepts  of  sincerity 
instead  of  perfect  obedience. 

Asp.  When  was  this  milder  law  intro- 
duced, and  the  stricter  abrogated  ?  Not 
upon  the  entrance  of  sin,  I  presume.  At 
this  rate,  the  original  law  must  be  the  crea- 
ture of  a  few  days,  perhaps  of  a  few  hours 
only.  But  can  we  imagine,  that  the  all-wise 
and  unchangeable  God  would  ordain  a  sys- 
tem of  precepts  to  be  disannulled  as  soon  as 
enacted  ?     Not  in  our   Lord's  time,  I  am 


*  Gal.  iii.  24.  "fl /iSaywyo?,"  a  schoolmaster; 
who  pretends  not  to  finish  the  edvication  of  youth, 
but  directs  them  to,  and  prepares  them  for,  higher 
studies  or  nobler  employs.  The  law,  in  like  manner, 
aims  not  at  furnishing  us  with  a  title  to  happiness  ; 
but  fits,  disposes,  and  disciplines  us,  for  the  all-suffi- 
cient Redeemer. 

T  These  two  examples  are,  with  the  truest  judg- 
ment, selected,  and  wi  th  the  utmost  propriety  applied, 
Rom.  iv.  1,  &c.  nom.  iv.  6,  &c.  Ab.aham  was  the 
most  illustrious  pattern  of  piety  among  the  Jewish 
patriarchs:  "  In  glory  there  was  none  like  him,"  Ec- 
clus.  xliv.  9.  David  was  the  most  zealous  and  se- 
raphic of  their  kings  ;  "  a  man  after  God's  own 
heart,"  1  Sam  xiii.  14.  If  neither  of  these  was  justi- 
fied by  his  own  obedience,  but  each  by  an  imputed 
righteousness,  if  they  both  obtained  acceptance  with 
God.  not  as  upriglit  beings,  whomight  claim  it ;  but 
as  sinful  creatures,  who  must  imploie  it;  the  conse- 
(|uenceis  glaring.  It  is  such  as  must  strike  every 
attentive  understanding,  and  must  affect  every  indi- 
vidual person. 


very  certain.  That  holy  commandmenf, 
which  requires  supreme  love  to  God,  and 
perfect  charity  to  men,  he  assures  us,  was 
still  in  force,  Matth.  xxii.  37,  38,  39.  Nay 
it  is  evident,  from  the  nature  of  the  Deity, 
and  from  our  relation  to  one  another,  that 
it  always  will  be  in  force,  that  it  never  can 
cease,  but  is  necessary  and  everlasting. 

"  A  milder  law,  condescending  to  our  in- 
firmities !"  What  can  be  the  purport  of 
such  an  institution  ?  It  must  be  supposed 
to  speak  the  following  language  :  "  Be  it 
known  unto  you,  O  children  of  Adam,  that 
you  are  no  longer  enjoined  to  love  the  Lord 
with  all  your  strength,  nor  to  love  your 
neighbour  as  yourselves.  Once,  indeed,  I 
insisted  upon  absolute  purity  of  heart ;  now 
I  can  dispense  vi'ith  some  degree  of  evil  con- 
cupiscence. Since  Christ  is  come,  and  his 
gospel  preached,  you  need  not  always  be 
clothed  with  humility  ;  but  may  feel  some 
little  emotions  of  pride.  In  short,  because 
you  are  weak,  I  will  connive,  or  even  ac- 
commodate my  demands  to  your  enfeebled 
and  depraved  condition." 

Not  to  urge  (what  must  be  shocking  to 
every  ear)  that  such  a  doctrine  would  make 
the  Holy  One  of  God  a  minister  of  sin,  and 
the  gospel  of  our  salvation  a  patent  for  licen- 
tiousness ;  let  me  only  ask,  Does  this  agree 
with  our  Lord's  declaration,  "  One  jot  of 
tittle  shall  in  no  wise  pass  from  the  law,  till 
all  be  fulfilled  ?  Matth.  v.  18.  Is  this  suit- 
able to  the  perfections  of  the  divine  Legis- 
lator ?  "  with  whom  is  no  variableness,  nor 
shadow  of  turning,"  James  i.  ]  7.  Will  this 
consist  with  the  avowed  resolution  of  the 
Almighty  Jehovah,  "  He  will  magnify  the 
law,  and  make  it  honourable?"  Isa.  xlii. 
2L 

Ther.  However  you  may  decry  what  I 
call  the  milder  law,  St.  Paul  asserts  it  to  be 
the  Christian  scheme.  This  he  strenuous- 
ly argues  for  as  the  only  scheme  by  which 
any  man  can  be  justified  in  the  sight  of  God. 

Asp.  Does  he,  Theron  ?  in  what  epistle  ? 
what  chapter  ?  what  verse  ?  He  says,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  Galatian  converts, 
"  I  do  not  frustrate  the  grace  of  God,  for, 
if  righteousness  come  by  the  law,  Christ  is 
dead  in  vain,"  Gal.  ii.  21.  From  which 
passage,  we  learn  two  very  momentous 
truths,  that  were  we  to  derive  a  justifying 
righteousness  from  the  law,  this  would  not 
only  be  derogatory  to  the  honour  of  grace, 
but  subversive  of  its  very  being ;  that  by 
seeking  justification  through  our  own  con- 
scientious behaviour,  we  make,  as  far  as  in 
us  lies,  the  death  of  Christ  a  vain  thing,  for 
which  there  was  no  occasion,  and  of  which 
there  is  no  use. 

To  the  same  piu-pose  it  is  written  in  that 
invaluable  epistle  to  the  Romans,  "  If  they 
which  are  of  the  law  be  heirs,"  if  Ihey  who 
trust  to  their  own  performance  of  the  law 


DIALOGUE   IX. 


24J3 


•«re  thereby  entitled  to  the  heavenly  inheri- 
tance ;  "  faitli  is  made  void,  and  the  promise 
made  of  none  eflect,"  Rom.  iv.  li. — See 
now,  my  friend,  the  tendency  of  your  opinion! 
It  is  not  a  mere  speculative  mistake,  an  er- 
ror of  inconsiderable  consequence,  but  such 
as  strikes  at  the  fundamentals  of  the  gospel. 
Instead  of  being  the  only  Christian  scheme, 
it  totally  overthrows  Christianity  itself.* 
For  it  would  render  the  promise  abortive, 
and  supersede  the  necessity  of  faith  ;  it 
would  destroy  the  very  existence  of  grace, 
and  make  even  the  death  of  Christ  a  super- 
fluous transaction. 

llier.  This  1  see,  Aspasio,  that  the  me- 
thod of  obtaining  acceptance  on  account  of 
our  own  sincerity,  is  a  benign  expedient, 
such  as  corresponds  with  the  compassionate 
nature  of  the  Deity,  and  is  what  the  apostle 
styles,  "  being  justified  by  faith,  without  the 
deeds  of  the  law." 

Asp.  How  !  To  be  justified  by  faith, 
and  justified  by  sincerity,  the  same  thing  i' 
Is  it  possible  that  these  should  be  equiva- 
'lent  terms  ?  Let  me  illustrate  my  query  by 
a  similitude,  which  our  present  situation 
suggests.  Sometimes  an  easy  comparison 
is  more  convincing  than  a  laboured  argu- 
ment. 

From  this  pleasing  eminence  we  com- 
mand an  extensive  view  of  the  country. 
Our  eye  connects  the  artless  grandeur  of 
nature  with  the  elegant  embellishments  of 
the  summer-house.  Nor  is  the  public  road 
the  least  entertaining  part  of  the  scene  ;  be- 
cause it  presents  us  with  a  moving  picture, 
with  a  perpetual  succession  of  new  objects. 
How  many  travellers  have  passed  in  review 
since  we  took  our  seat  in  this  agreeable  ele- 
vation !  Just  at  this  instant  a  stage-coach 
bolts  out  of  the  lane,  filled,  I  presume,  with 
passengers  that  reside  in  the  neighbourhood, 
or  are  to  lodge  in  the  next  market-town. 
We  will  suppose  them  set  down  at  their 
journey's  end.  An  acquaintance  visits  them, 
congratulates  them  on  their  arrival;  and  asks 
that  customary  question,  "  how  they  came  ?'' 
"  We  came,"  say  they,  "  without  walking  a 
step  ourselves,  yet  by  walking,  as  well,  and 
as  far  as  we  are  able.''  Is  this  answer 
intelligible  ?  Are  these  methods  of  travel- 
ling consistent?  So  intelligible  is  my 
friend's  doctrine  ;  so  consistent  is  justifica- 
tion vouchsafed  without  the  deeds  of  the 
law  ;  and  justification  obtained  by  perform- 
ing the  deeds  of  the  law  as  well  as  we  are 
able. 


«  St.  Paul  says  of  those  preachers  who  taught  jus- 
tification by  tlie  works  of  the  law,  "  they  would 
pervert,"  or  (as  the  original  word  //.iTarr^ntna-i  may 
be  translated)  subvert  and  overthrow  "  the  gospel  of 
Christ."  To  pervert,  give  a  wrong  turn,  or  a  false 
colour,  seems  not  to  express  fully  the  apostle's  idea, 
nor  to  preserve  the  native  energy  of  his  argument. 
The  Greek  word  is  equivalent  to  the  Hebrew  13rT> 
which  we  generally  render  eecrtiin',  (i;il.  i.  /• 


Ther.  Without  the  law,  signifies  without 
the  necessity  of  an  exact  and  unerring  con- 
formity to  it. 

Aap.  This  is  not  without,  but  by  the  law, 
qualified  in  the  rigour  of  its  demands,  and 
departing  somewhat  from  the  perfection  of 
its  precept.?.  Could  you  afiirm  with  any 
propriety,  that  this  part  of  the  hemisphere 
is  without  the  sun,  because  an  intervening 
cloud  has  moderated  its  fervour  and  abated 
its  glare  ? 

What  says  the  apostle  ?  His  words  in 
another  place  will  determine  his  meaning  in 
this.  If  a  state  of  acceptance  with  God  be 
of  works,  be  referable  to  our  own  obedi- 
ence, whether  sincere  or  perfect,  "  it  is  no 
more  of  grace."*  Works  and  grace,  in 
point  of  justification,  are  irreconcilable  op- 
posites.  On  this  pinnacle  they  cannot 
stand  together.  One  must  supplant  and 
overthrow  the  other. 

But  why  do  I  speak  of  gi-ace  ?  If  my 
friend's  opinion  prevail,  grace  is  at  an  end. 
What  we  took  to  be  the  gospel,  turns  out 
a  covenant  of  works.  Salvation  ceases  to 
be  a  free  gift,  and  becomes  a  necessary  pay- 
ment. For  "  to  him  that  worketh,"  that  per- 
forineth  what  the  law  requires,  "  is  the  re- 
ward not  reckoned  of  grace ;"  but  he  may 
claim  it  as  his  due,  it  must -be  paid  him  as 
matter  of  debt ;  Rom.  iv.  4. 

Tlicr.  You  take  no  notice  of  what  I  ur- 
ged concerning  the  benignity  of  this  scheme, 
and  how  much  it  magnifies  the  clemency 
of  the  great  Legislator, 

Asp.  But  why  should  clemency  erect  its 
throne  on  the  ruins  of  almost  every  other 
attribute  ?  This  method  would  dishonour 
the  veracity  of  God,  which  has  denounced 
a  curse  upon  every  deviation  from  his  re- 
vealed will.  It  would  depreciate  the  ad- 
ministration of  his  justice,  which  cannot  but 
punish  whatever  violates  his  sacred  precepts. 
It  would  greatly  derogate  from  the  dignity 
of  his  law,  and  make  it  a  mere  thing  of  wax 
to  bend,  and  truckle,  and  take  its  form  from 
the  sin  and  weakness  of  human  nature. 

Ther.  Will  the  divine  law  then  make  no 
favourable  allowances  for  human  infirmities, 
for  constitutional  faults,  and  strength  of 
passion  ? 

Asp.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  represent  the 
law  of  the  Most  High,  either  more  strict,  or 
more  yielding,  than  it  really  is.  To  avoid 
all  possibility  of  such  a  mistake,  let  us  hear 
the  declaration  of  the  law  itself:  "  Cursed 
is  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things 
that  are  written  in  the  book  of  the  law, 
to  do  them."  Gal.  iii.  10. 


*  Rom.  xi.  6.  The  passage  produced  by  Aspasio, 
refers  immediately  to  the  doctrine  of  election,  and 
but  remotely  to  the  privilege  of  justification.  How- 
ever, as  the  former  includes  the  latter,  if  that  be  per- 
fectly free,  this  cannot  be  the  consequence  of  works. 
The  aigument  therefore,  I  apprehend,  is  conclusive, 
Ihougli  the  proof  is  not  so  direct. 


246 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


"  Every  one  ;"  without  any  exception  of 
persons,  without  any  regard  to  pleas,  either 
of  human  weakness  or  violent  temptation. 
— "  That  continueth  not ;"  it  is  not  enough 
to  observe  these  holy  commandments  in  the 
general  tenor  of  our  conversation.  Our 
course  of  obedience  must  be  without  any 
intermission,  from  the  earliest  dawn  of  rea- 
son to  the  latest  period  of  life.  "  In  all 
things  ;"  we  must  refrain  from  all  the  sins 
that  are  forbidden,  and  from  every  approach 
towards  them.  We  must  practise  all  the 
virtues  that  are  enjoined,  and  in  their  full 
extent  of  perfection. 

In  a  word,  the  law  insists  upon  obedience, 
perfect  in  its  principle,  perfect  in  all  its 
parts,  perfect  in  every  degree,  and  in  each 
of  these  respects  perpetual.*  The  least  de- 
ficiency in  anyone  particular  renders  us  liable 
to  vengeance;  and  notwithstanding  any  re- 
pentance for  transgressions,  notwithstanding 
all  pretensions  to  sincerity  of  heart,  subjects 
us  to  the  curse. 

Theron  paused ; — he  seemed  to  be 
struck  with  surprise ; — but  rallying  his 
thoughts,  replied,  If  this  be  the  sense  of  the 
passage  ;  who  of  all  flesh  can  be  saved  ? 

Asp.  Say  rather.  If  the  extent  of  the  di- 
vine law  be  so  enlarged,  if  its  demands  be 
so  high,  and  its  sanction  so  awfully  rigor- 
ous, then  must  "  every  mouth  be  stopped  ; 
— then  is  all  the  world  become  guilty  liefore 
God ;  and  by  the  works  of  the  law  shall 
no  man  living  be  justified." 

Ther.  WiW  not  such  excessively  severe 
doctrine  drive  people  into  despondency,  or 
even  drown  them  in  despair? 

Asp.  No,  Theron  ;  unless  it  be  such  a 
despair  as  is  the  parent  of  heavenly  hope, 
and  productive  of  those  amiable  twins — 
peace  and  joy  :  A  despair,  I  mean,  of  being 
reconciled  to  our  offended  God,  and  of  ob- 
taining eternal  happiness  by  any  satisfaction 
or  any  duties  of  our  own. 

Ther.  Surely,  you  forget  the  gracious 
manifesto  published  by  the  condescending 
King  of  heaven  :  "  If  there  be  first  a  wil- 
ling mind,  it  is  accepted,  according  to  what 
a  man  hath,  not  according  to  what  he  hath 
not,"  2  Cor.  viii.  ]  2.  Is  it  not  plain  from 
this  text,  that  infinite  goodness  will  admit 
our  honest,  though  imperfect  endeavours  ; 
and,  since  we  are  not  able  to  pay  an  unsin- 
ning,  will  mercifully  accept  our  best  obe- 
dience? 

Asp.  I  donotforget,but  possibly  my  friend 
may  misapply,  the  gracious  manifesto.  To 
whom  was  the  word  of  this  consolation  sent  ? 
To  true  believers,  who  had  "given  their 
own  selves  to  the  Lord,"  2  Cor.   viii.   5 ; 


»  That  the  law  insists  upon  an  obedience  absolute- 
ly perfect,  will  be  farther  evident  to  the  attentive 
reader,  if  he  considers  the  tenor  of  St.  Paul's  argu- 
mentation, in  his  epistles  to  the  Romans,  and  to  the 
Galarinns;  particularly  Rom.  iii.  23.  tv.  15.    Gal.  iii. 


who  "  were  established  in  Christ,"  2  Cor. 
i.  21 ;  "and  abounded  in  faith,"  2  Cor.  viii. 
7.  If  you  likewise,  my  dear  Theron,  ac- 
knowledge yourself  a  vile  sinner  in  your 
worst,  and  an  unprofitable  servant  in  your 
best  estate  ;  if,  in  consequence  of  this  ac- 
knowledgment, you  fly  for  refuge  to  the 
wounds  of  a  crucified  Saviour,  and  rely  for  sal- 
vation only  on  his  obedience  unto  death  j  then 
you  imitate  those  Corinthian  converts ;  then 
you  may  apply  that  indulgent  declaration  to 
yourself;  and  then  would  I  venture  to  ad- 
dress you,  in  the  elegant  and  cheering  lan- 
guage of  the  royal  preacher,  "  Go  thy  way, 
eat  thy  bread  with  joy,  and  drink  thy  wine 
with  a  merry  heart ;  for  God  now  accept- 
eth"'  both  thy  person  and  thy  perform- 
ances. 

But  if  you  overlook  the  righteousness  of 
the  blessed  Jesus  :  if  you  depend  upon  your- 
self and  your  own  attainments;  you  are  (how 
shall  I  speak  it)  not  accepted,  but  accursed. 
In  such  a  case  you  have  already  heard  your 
doom  denounced  by  the  leader  of  the  Jews, 
and  may  hear  it  ratified  by  the  apostle  of 
the  Gentiles :  "  As  many  as  are  of  the 
works  of  the  law,"  who  seek  justification  by 
their  own  observance  of  its  commands, 
"  are  under  the  curse."  Gal.  iii.  10. 

Ther.  Under  the  curse  !  Because  our  at- 
tempts to  obey,  though  faithfully  exerted, 
are  attended  with  defects  !  Is  not  this  un- 
reasonable and  shocking?  Unreasonable, 
that  the  God  of  justice  should  establish  a 
law  of  such  consummate  perfection,  as  no 
child  of  Adam  can,  even  with  his  utmost 
assiduity  and  care,  fulfil  ?  Shocking,  that 
the  God  of  mercy  should  thunder  out  so 
severe  a  denunciation  on  the  least  inadver- 
tent breach,  on  every  unavoidable  failure  ? 
This  exceeds  the  relentless  rigour  of  Draco, 
or  the  tyrannical  impositions  of  Egyp- 
tian task-masters.  Draco  is  said  to  have 
written  his  laws  in  blood  ;  yet  he  never  en- 
acted such  institutions  as  were  absolute- 
ly too  strict  and  difficult  to  be  observ- 
ed. And  though  the  Egyptian  task-mas- 
ters insisted  upon  the  full  tale  of  bricks, 
without  allov/ing  the  necessary  proportion 
of  straw  ;  yet  the  punishment  they  inflicted 
was  incomparably  less  than  everlasting  de- 
struction. 

Asp.  If  God  Almighty,  in  delivering  his 
law  to  fallen  mankind,  intended  to  propose 
the  means  of  their  justification,  your  argu- 
ment would  be  valid,  and  your  inference  unde- 


»  Eccl.  ix.  7.  Aspasio's  remark  discovers  an  ambi- 
guity in  the  word  accepted.  If  people  mean,  that 
sincere  obedience  shall  be  accepted,  as  their  justifying 
righteousness,  as  that  which  constitutes  their  title  to 
everlasting  felicity,  the  proposition  is  extremely  false. 
If  they  mean,  that  the  smcere  obedience  of  believers, 
though  very  imperfect  in  itself,  shall  be  graciously 
regarded  in  Christ,  and  find  favour  through  his  all- 
recommending  merit,  the  sentiment  is  unquestiona- 
bly true. 


DIALOGUE  IX. 


niable.  But  the  Supreme  Legislator  had  a 
very  different,  a  far  more  mysterious  design. 
However,  before  I  proceed  to  touch  upon 
this  point,  let  me  desire  to  know  your 
opinion — For  wh^f  reasons,  think  you,  was 
the  law  ordained  ? 

Ther.  For  what  reasons  ?  To  deter  men 
from  the  commission  of  vice,  and  excite 
them  to  the  practice  of  virtue.  To  set  before 
them  a  rule  for  their  conduct  which,  if  they 
diligently  observe,  they  shall  be  rewarded 
with  eternal  happiness  ;  which,  if  they  pre- 
sumptuously transgress,  they  shall  be  pun- 
ished with  eternal  misery. 

Asp.  If  man  had  never  fallen,  this  doc- 
trine had  been  sound  divinity,  and  this  me- 
thod a  practicable  scheme.  But  ever  since 
the  fail,  such  a  way  of  salvation  is  some- 
what like  the  north-east  passage-  As  moun- 
tains of  ice,  and  the  severest  rigours  of  win- 
ter, block  up  this, — so  extreme  impo- 
tence in  man,  and  the  utmost  perftction 
in  the  law,  bar  up  that-  "  The  law," 
saith  the  apostle,  "is  weak;"  is  incapable 
of  furnishing  us  with  a  title  to  the  heaven- 
ly felicity  ;*  not  through  any  defect  in  its 
precepts,  but  "  through  the  flesh,"  through 
the  inability  of  our  degenerate  nature. 

Yet  I  must  confess  you  are  not  alone  in 
your  opinion.  Multitudes  have  unwarily 
entertained  the  same  notion;  not  appre- 
hensive that  they  frustrate  hereby  the  grace 
of  God,  and  render  it  of  none  eSect  with  re- 
gard to  themselves.  If  you  examine  the 
scriptural  account,  you  will  find  it  quite 
of  another  strain. 

Ther.  Pray  let  me  hear  the  scriptural  ac- 
count. For  whenever  those  divine  oracles 
speak,  I  am  all  attention  :  Wherever  they 
interpose  theirauthority,  lam  all  submission. 

Asp.  "  By  the  law  is  the  knowledge  of 
sin,"  Rom.  iii,  20.  Far  from  being  our 
justifier,  it  is  our  accuser.  It  arraigns,  and 
proves  us  guilty-  It  demonstrates,  beyond 
all  possibility  of  contradiction,  that  the  very 
best  among  us  have  failed  and  come  short 
of  our  duty  ;  nay,  that  the  very  best  among 
us  have  done  amiss,  and  dealt  wickedly. 

"  I  was  alive  without  the  law  once,"  says 
the  apostle,  Rom.  vii.  9.  I  thought  my- 
self upright  and  holy ;  and  entitled,  by 
virtue  of  these  qualifications,  to  life  eternal. 
*'  But  when  the  commandment  came," 
shining  in  its  purity,  and  operating  with 
power,  "sin  revived:"  aclear and  livelysense 
of  guilt  shot,  like  a  piercing  ray,  through  all 
my  soul.  1  saw  myself  chargeable  with 
many   past    provocations.      I    felt    myself 


*  Rom.  viii.  3.  Therefore  he  says  in  another  place, 
"  If  there  had  been  a  law  given,  which  coulti  have 
given  life."  Gal.  iii  21.  It  is  the  same  way  of 
speaking,  and  intended  to  denote  the  very  same  im- 
postibility,  which  is  implied  in  tliat  speech  of  Jeho- 
vah to  Abraham,  •'  If  a  man  can  number  the  dust  of 
the  earth."  Oen.  xiii.  Ki. 


247 

subject  to  much  remaining  corruption.  In 
consequence  of  which  "I  died:"  my  vain 
conceits  were  blasted  ;  my  presumptuous 
hopes  expired  ;  I  could  not  but  acknowledge 
myself  justly  liable  to  condemnation  and 
death. 

Ther.  It  had  this  effect  on  Saul,  when  he 
was  a  malignant  and  barbarous  persecutor. 
But  when  people  are  virtuous  and  benevo- 
lent, what  purpose  does  it  then  serve  ? 

Asp.  A  very  important  one  ;  yet  such  as 
may  probably,  at  the  first  hearing,  affect  you 
with  a  little  surprise.  "  The  law  enter- 
ed,"   says  the  apostle,  "  that    the  offence 

miglit " 

Tfier.  Be  restrained,  no  doubt. 
Asp.   That  the  offence  might  "  abound," 
Rom.  V.  20.  is  the  assertion. 

Ther-  Surprising  indeed  !  Is  it  possible 
that  God's  law  should  give  countenance  to 
sin  ?  nay,  add  spurs  to  the  sinner  ? 

Asp.  Let  us  beware  of  mistaking  our  sa- 
cred casuist.  The  law  entered,  not  that  the 
commission  of  sin  might  be  authorized,  but 
that  the  abundance  of  our  sins  might  be 
manifested ;  that  oil  mankind,  even  your 
virtuous  persons,  may  perceive  the  great 
multitude  of  their  iniquities,  the  greater  im- 
purity of  their  hearts,*  together  with  the 
utter  imperfection  of  their  highest  attain- 
ments, and  best  services. 

This  end  could  not  be  answered  by  a  law 
relaxed  in  its  demands,  or  warping  to  our 
weakness  ;  only  by  a  system  of  precepts 
every  way  exact,  and  in  all  degrees  perfect. 
Whoever  would  represent  to  his  neighbours 
the  spots  that  sully,  or  the  scars  that  disfi- 
gure his  countenance,  must  effect  the  de- 
sign, not  by  a  stained,  but  by  a  pure  mirror. 
Ther.  "  The  knowledge  of  sin,  and  a  con- 
viction of  our  exceeding  sinfulness  :"  these 
are  intentions  which  I  should  not  have  sus- 
pected. 

Asp.  These  are  not  all.  There  is  an- 
other intention  of  the  law,  equally  neces- 
sary, and  no  less  awful :  "  it  reveals  the 
wrath  of  God  against  all  ungodliness  and 
unrighteousness  of  men."  Romans,  i.  18, 
Having  set  before  the  sinner  his  innumera- 
ble offences  and  enormous  guilt,  it  denounces 
the  doom  which  he  deserves  ;  it  unsheathes 
the  sword  of  justice,  and  threatens  the  of- 
fender with  eveilasting  destruction  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord. 

Ther.  A  modern  writer  supposes,  that  God 
may  set  aside  the  law,  in  favour  of  fiail  men. 
I  might  far  more  reasonably  suppose,  that 
he  would  mitigate  the  law,  on  the  same  con- 
sideration. But  what  you  urge  makes  me 
afraid  to  lean  on  so  precarious  a  prop. 

./*7).  To  look  for  comfort  and  salvation 
from  this  quarter,  would  be  to  lean,  as  the 


And  therefore  was  law  given  them,  to  evince 
Their  natural  jiravity Milton,  b.  12.  J.  287. 


218 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Ther.  I  can.  Bui  will  not  this  chase 
lead  us  away  very  far  from  our  subject  ? 

Asp.  Perhaps  not  so  far  as  you  imagine. 
I  have  a  reason  for  my  request- 

Ther.  What  reason,  I  beseech  you  ? 

Asp.  You  shall  soon  know.  Only  favour 
me  with  the  account. 

Ther.  1  protest,  I  cannot  discern  the  least 
connexion  between  these  rural  sports  and 
the  grandtopicof  our  conversation.  Howev- 
er, since  you  command,  Iwill  implicitlyobey. 

The  stag,  roused  from  his  lair,  shakes  his 
dappled  sides ;  tosses  his  beamy  head  ;  and, 
conscious  of  superior  agility,  seems  to  defy 
the  gathering  storm-  You  see,  speaking  of 
poetry,  I  have  caught  something  of  the  po- 
etical strain. 

Asp.  This  enlivened  manner  excites  my 
eagerness,  and  makes  me  more  desirous  to 
hear  the  sequel. 

Ther.  First,  he  has  recourse  to  stratagem, 
and  evasive  shifts.  He  plunges  into  the 
copse ;  darts  across  the  glade,  and  wheels 
about  in  doubling  mazes,  as  though  he  would 
pursue  even  the  foe  he  avoids.  The  full- 
mouthed  pack  unravel  all  his  windings,  and 
drive  him  from  his  wily  arts. 

Now  he  betakes  himself  to  flight,  and 
confides  in  his  speed.  He  bursts  through 
the  woods,  bounds  over  the  lawns,  and  leaves 
the  lagging  beagles  far  behind.  The  beagles, 
slow  but  sure,  trace  his  steps  through  woods, 
through  lawns,  through  half  the  extended 
forest :  Unwearied,  still  unwearied,  they 
urge  their  ardent  way,  and  gain  upon  the 
alarmed  object  of  their  pursuit. 

Again  he  flies,  flies  with  redoubled  swift- 
ness ;  shoots  down  the  steep  ;  strains  up  the 
hill;  and  takes  shelter  in  the  inmost  recess 
of  some  sequestered  grove.  The  sagacious 
hounds  hang,  with  greedy  nostrils,  on  the 
scent.  They  recover,  by  indefatigable  as- 
siduity, the  ground  they  had  lost.  Up  they 
come  a  third  time  ;  and,  joining  in  a  ge- 
neral peal  of  vengeance,  hurry  the  affrighted 
animal  from  his  short  concealment- 
Perplexed,  and  in  the  utmost  distress,  he 
killing  ordinance,  and  bind  us  down  under  a  i  seeks  the  numerous  herd.  He  would  lose 
sentence  of  death.     But,   rightly  improved    himself,  and  elude  his  pursuers,  amidst  the 


Arabian  proverb  speaks,  "  ofi  a  wave  of  the 
sea,"  which  will  not  only  fail  to  support, 
but  will  certainly  swallow  up  the  unadvised 
and  rash  depender. 

No,  Theron  ;  rather  than  the  divine  law 
should  lose  its  honours,  Sodom  and  Gomor- 
fah  were  laid  in  ashes;  the  ancient  world 
was  destroyed  with  a  deluge ;  the  present 
frame  of  nature  is  destined  to  the  flames,  and 
all  its  unholy  inhabitants  will  be  condemned 
to  hell.  Nay,  rather  than  the  least  tittle 
should  pass  unaccomplished,  its  curse  has 
been  executed  on  God's  own  Son,  and  all 
its  injunctions  have  been  fulfilled  in  the  per- 
son of  Jesus  Christ. 

Ther.  As  I  dare  not  confide  in  the  mo- 
dern provisionary  salvo,  so  neither  can  I  ac- 
cede to  your  severe  and  terrifying  notions. 
The  laws  of  a  wise  and  beneficent  governor 
are  calculated  for  the  good  of  his  subjects. 
What  good,  what  advantage  can  accrue  to 
us,  from  receiving  such  a  sentence,  and  pos- 
sessing such  convictions  ? 

Asp.  Though  I  might  mention  many  ad- 
vantages, I  shall  content  myself  with  select- 
ing one,  which  is  not  only  valuable  in  itself, 
but  the  introduction  to  every  spiritual  bless- 
ing. When,  by  the  instrumentality  of  the 
law,  and  the  illumination  of  the  Spirit,  we 
are  brought  under  such  convictions,  then  we 
are  taught  to  see  our  danger ;  then  we  are 
made  to  feel  our  misery  ;  and  then  we  shall 
no  longer  sleep  in  security,  but  solicitously 
look  out  for  deliverance,  and  gladly  accept 
the  sovereign  remedy. 

Ther.  The  law,  according  to  your  repre- 
sentation, is  intended  to  accuse  me — to  con- 
vict me — to  condemn  me.  So  it  becomes, 
instead  of  a  salutary,  a  killing  system. 

Asp-  "  The  letter  killeth,  but  the  spirit 
giveth  life."  2  Cor.  iii.  6.  If  we  adhere  to 
the  literal  sense,  without  attending  to  the 
spiritual  design  ;  if  we  regard  only  the  pre- 
cept and  the  sanction  as  they  stand  in  them- 
selves, and  neither  consider  nor  improve 
them  as  acting  in  subserviency  to  the  Medi- 
ator's  righteousness  ;  they  are  doubtless  a  \ 


— Hold  !  let  me  proceed  no  farther  with  the 
argument 


multitude  of  his  fellows.     But  they,  uncon- 
j  cerned  for  a  brother's  woe,  shun  the  miser- 


Youare  a  sportsman,  Theron,  and  delight  |  able  creature,  or  expel  him  from  the  selfish 


in  the  manly  recreations  of  the  field  ;  you 
must  therefore  have  read  that  fine  poem, 
which  so  elegantly  describes  your  favourite 
diversion. 

Tlier.    The  Chase,  I  suppose  you  mean. 

Asp-  The  same.  Do  you  remember  the 
large  description  of  the  royal  stag  chase  ? 

Ther.  Perfectly  well.  It  is  not  a  week 
since  I  perused  the  whole  passage,  and  with 
as  much  pleasure  as  if  it  had  been  entirely 
new. 

Asp.  Then  you  can  give  me  a  summary 
of  the  ngrewabic  narrative. 


rcle.  Abandoned  by  his  associates,  and 
haunted  with  apprehensions  of  approaching 
ruin,  he  trembles  at  every  leaf  that  shakes. 
He  starts  ;  he  springs  ;  and  wild,  and  swift 
as  the  wind,  flies  he  knows  not  where,  yet 
pours  all  his  soul  in  flight.  Vain,  vain  are 
his  efforts  !  The  horrid  cry,  lately  lessened, 
thickens  upon  the  gale,  and  thunders  in  his 
ear.  Now  the  poor  breathless  victim  is  full 
in  view  :  his  sprightliness  forsakes  him  ;  his 
agility  is  spent-  See  how  he  toils  in  yonder 
valley  with  faultering  limbs  and  a  hobbling 
gait  I    The  sight  of  their  game  quickens  the 


DIALOGUE  IX. 


249 


<p{ice,  and  whets  the  ardour,  of  the  impetu- 
ous hounds.  With  tumultuous  violence  they 
rush  in,  and  with  clamorous  joy  demand 
their  prey. 

What  can  he  do,  sun'ounded  as  he  is  with 
insulting  toni;ues  and  ravenous  jaws  ?  De- 
spair is  capable  of  inspiriting  even  the  ti- 
morous breast.  Having  nothing  to  hope, 
he  forgets  to  fear.  He  faces  about,  and 
makes  a  resolute  stand.  The  trunk  of  a 
sturdy  tree  covers  his  rear,  and  his  own 
branching  horns  defend  him  in  front-  He 
rushes  upon  his  adversaries,  gores  some, 
Jays  others  grovelling  on  the  tiu-f,  and  makes 
the  whole  coward  pack  gi\e  way. 

Encouraged  by  this  unexpected  success, 
his  hopes  revive.  He  rallies  once  again  his 
droopingspirits;  exerts  the  little  remainderof 
his  strength,  and  springs  through  the  midst  of 
the  retiring  rout.  It  is  his  last,  last  chance 
He  stretches  every  nerve  ;  once  more  loses 
sight  of  the  rabble  from  the  kennel ;  and, 
finding  no  security  on  the  land,  takes  to  the 
.water  !  He  throws  his  burning  sides  into 
the  river,  sails  down  the  cooling  stream  ; 
and  slinks  away  to  the  verge  of  some  little 
shelving  island.  There  finding  a  resting 
place  for  his  feet,  he  skulks  close  to  the  sha- 
dy margin.  All  immersed  in  the  wave,  ex- 
cepting only  his  nostrils,  he  baffles  for  a 
while  the  prying  eye  of  man,  and  the  keen- 
er smell  of  bjtite. 

Discovered  at  length,  and  forced  to  quit 
this  unavailing  refuge,  he  climbs  the  slippery 
bank.  Unable  to  Hy  any  longer,  he  stands 
at  bay  against  an  aged  willow  ;  stands,  all 
faint  with  toil,  and  sobbing  with  anguish. 
The  crowds  that  gather  round  him  with 
merciless  and  outrageous  transport,  triumph 
in  his  misery.  A  multitude  of  blood-thirsty 
throats,  joined  with  the  sonorous  horn,  ring 
his  funeral  knell.  The  tears,  till  this  fatal 
instant  unknown,  gush  from  his  languishing 
eyes,  and  roll  down  his  reeking  cheeks.  He 
casts  one  more  look  on  the  woods,  the  lawns, 
the  pleasing  scenes  of  his  former  delights  ; 
and,  determined  to  die,  prepares  to  sell  his 
life  as  dear  as  possible. 

At  this  most  critical  juncture,  the  royal 
sportsman  comes  up.  He  sees  the  distress- 
ed creature ;  and  as  soon  as  he  sees,  he 
pities  !  The  clemency  which  attends  the 
throne,  accompanies  even  the  diversions  of 
majesty.  He  issues  the  high  command. 
The  ])rohibitory  signal  is  given.  The  pack, 
though  raving  for  blood,  are  checked  in  a 
moment  ;  and  not  clucked  only,  but  called 
olf  from  the  |)rey.  Disappointed  and  grum- 
bling they  retire,  aiul  leave  the  intended  vic- 
tim of  their  fury  to  enjoy  his  liberty,  his 
safety,  and  his  ease  again 

1  have  now  followed  the  stag,  till  I  have 
tired  your  patience.  Why  did  you  suffer 
nie  to  run  on  at  this  extravagant  rate  ?    You 


know  I   am,    on  these   favourite  topics,  an 
everlastinu:  talker- 

ylsp.  Why  this  apology,  Theron  ?  I  ain 
sure  you  did  not  see  my  mouth  yawn,  or  my 
head  nod,  while  you  was  pursuing  your  sub- 
ject. Besides,  I  intend  to  make  reprisals, 
and  put  your  attention  to  the  same  trial. 

Thus  the  strictness  of  the  law  pursues  the 
soul ;  dislodges  it  from  every  refuge  of  lies  ; 
and  never  remits  its  terrifying  menaces,  till 
the  poor  delinquent  ceases  from  self-confi- 
dence, and  fixes  on  Christ  for  his  whole  sal- 
vation. 

The  man,  perhaps,  is  awakened  into  a 
serious  concern  for  his  eternal  state.  In 
consequence  of  which,  he  relinquishes  his 
profane  and  iniquitous  practices  ;  breaks  the 
Sabbath,  and  defrauds  his  neighbour  no 
more.  But  the  law  quickly  represents,  and 
in  a  glaring  light,  that  a  negative  obedience 
is  by  no  means  sufficient. 

Upon  this  he  betakes  himself  to  a  course 
of  positive  holiness  ;  gets  acquainted  with 
religious  people,  and  performs  religious  du- 
ties ;  prays  in  secret,  and  attends  public 
ordinances  ;  conscientiously  observes  the 
Lord's  day,  and  regulates  his  behaviour  by 
the  rule  ol  God's  connnandments.  Now, 
he  is  ready  to  congratulate  himself  on  his 
remarkable  and  hopeful  reformation. 

Soon  he  perceives,  that  all  his  proficien- 
cy is  but  skin-deep,  a  mere  outside  vai-nish, 
which  has  not  penetrated  the  iimer  man. 
He  begins  therefore,  to  watch  over  the  mo- 
tions, and  bewail  the  evils  of  bis  heart.  He 
labours  to  subdue  pride,  and  curb  passion  ; 
to  purge  out  filthy  lusts,  and  to  banish  spi- 
ritual wickedness.  Notwithstanding  all  his 
vigilance,  conscience  flies  in  his  face,  either 
for  the  neglect  of  some  virtue,  or  the  com- 
mission of  some  sin.  The  law  rings  in  his 
ear  that  dreadful  denunciation,  "  Cursed 
is  he  that  performeth  not  all  things.'' 

Struck  by  this  conviction,  his  wounds 
bleed  afresh.  He  is  obliged  to  seek  some 
new  balm  for  his  sore-  In  order  to  appease 
an  offended  God,  and  atone  for  his  sinful 
relapses,  he  makes  many  sorrowful  confes- 
sions, possibly  submits  to  voluntary  suffer- 
ings. He  denies  himself,  and  bestows  li- 
berally on  the  poor  :  He  sighs  deej)ly,  and 
mourns  bitterly — But  can  waters  that  are 
muddy  cleanse  the  garment  that  is  filthy? 
Wilt  thou  satisfy,  O  vain  man,  wilt  thou 
satisfy  for  one  sin  by  committing  another  ? 
In  these  penitential  exercises  weie  thy 
thoughts  steadily  devout  ?  In  those  acts  of 
beneficence,  was  thy  heart  warmly  affection- 
ate ?  If  not,  such  fancied  reparations  of 
[)ast  faults,  only  aggravate  the  heavy  score. 

\\'hat  shall  he  do  ?  He  catniot  pay  : 
to  beg  he  is  ashamed.  Fain  would  he  enter 
into  life,  yet  not  be  too  much  indebted  to 
grace.     He   attempts,  therefore,   to   com- 


250 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


pound  with  heaven.  He  binds  himself  by 
solemn,  perhaps  by  sacramental  engage- 
ments, to  use  greater  circumspection  for  the 
future ;  then  turns  his  eye  to  the  divine 
Mediator  not  with  a  view  of  relying  wholly 
on  his  righteousness,  but  only  to  obtain 
such  a  supply  as  may  make  up  the  deficien- 
cies of  his  own.  Somewhat  like  this  was 
the  mistake  of  the  Gaiatian  converts,  against 
which  St.  Paul,  in  his  epistle  to  that  peo- 
ple, so  solidly  disputes,  and  so  sharply 
inveighs — For  a  while  he  holds  fast  his 
purposed  integrity.  At  length,  falling 
notoriously  short  in  executing  his  part, 
a  startling  voice  sounds  in  his  earthat  dread- 
ful alarm,  "  Cursed  is  he  that  continueth 
not-"  His  heart  sinks  with  discouragement, 
and  all  his  resolutions  hang  their  enfeebled 
heads.  He  has  tried  every  method  that  he 
can  devise,  and  has  found  every  method  in- 
effectual. All  his  expedients  are  a  spider's 
web,  and  his  hope  is  as  the  giving  up  of 
the  ghost- 

His  soul,  pursued  by  the  law,  and  haunt- 
ed by  terror,  is  brought  to  the  gates  of 
death,  or  the  very  brink  of  despair.  And 
now  the  King  of  kings,  now  the  Lord  our 
righteousness,  appears  for  his  rescue.  Now 
is  accomplished  that  gracious  declaration, 
"  O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself,  but 
in  me  is  thy  help."  Hos.  xiii.  9.  Driven 
from  every  false  refuge,  and  drawn  by  the 
blessed  Spirit,  he  comes  weary  and  heavy 
laden  to  Christ.  Convinced  of  the  sin  of 
his  nature,  the  sin  of  his  life,  and  the  sin  of 
his  best  duties,  }ie  renounces  himself  in 
every  view.  This  is  all  his  salvation,  and 
all  his  desire,  that  he  may  win  Christ,  and 
be  found  in  him.  Did  that  poor  afflicted 
woman  say,  "  If  I  may  but  touch  his  gar- 
ment, I  shall  be  whole  ?"  With  equal  ar- 
dour does  this  enlightened  sinner  cry,  "  If 
I  may  but  have  fellowship  with  the  glorious 
Immanuel,  in  his  merits,  and  in  his  benefits, 
I  am  alive  from  the  dead,  I  am  happy  for 
ever." 

Having  seen  a  glimpse  of  the  transcen- 
dent excellency  of  the  Redeemer's  person  ; 
having  received  a  taste  from  the  inexhaust- 
ible fulness  of  his  grace  ;  O  how  he  longs 
for  brighter  manifestations  !  how  he  thirsts 
after  more  plentiful  draughts  ! — iNone  that 
come  to  Christ  are  cast  out.  He  that 
awakens  these  ardent  desires,  in  his  due 
time  gives  the  desired  blessings.  After  va- 
rious conflicts  a  comfortable  and  establish- 
ed faith  is  wrought  in  the  penitent's  soul. 
He  believes,  that  the  Son  of  the  Most 
High  died  in  his  stead,  and  was  obedient 
for  his  justification  ;  believes,  that  all  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  the  adored  Media- 
tor's life  and  death  are  his  portion." 


•  See  this  work  of  grace,  and  procedtire  of  conver- 
sion, more  copiously  displaytd,   in  n  valuable  liule 


By  this  faith,  his  heart  is  purified  j  hii 
heart  is  quickened,  he  is  fitted  for  every 
good  work.  Though  temptations  assault 
him,  he  derives  strength  from  his  Saviour; 
"  resists  the  devil  and  is  faithfid,unto  death." 
Though  corruptions  defile  him,  he  flies  to 
the  "fountain  opened  for  uncleanness." 
Zech.  xiii.  1  ;  makes  daily,  hourly  applica- 
tion of  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  and  goes  on 
his  way,  rejoicing  in  God  his  Saviour. 

Th^r.  Your  discourse  puts  me  in  mind 
of  Absalom's  procedure  when  Joab  refused 
to  make  him  a  visit.  The  Prince  ordered 
his  servants  to  seton  fire  the  General's  corn. 
2  Sam.  xiv.  30.  This  stratagem  had  its 
intended  effect.  The  apprehension  of  dan- 
ger drove  him,  when  the  respectful  invita- 
tion would  not  lead  him,  to  a  personal  in- 
terview- You  seem  to  suppose  that  the  law 
was  delivered  with  such  a  design — to  lay  us 
under  a  necessity  of  flying  to  the  atonement 
of  Christ. 

Asp.  I  do,  Theron.  And  for  this  opinion 
I  have  a  far  better  authority  than  my  own 
supposition.  We  are  assured  by  unerring 
wisdom,  that  "  Christ  is  the  end  of  the 
law."  Rom.  x-  4.  It  points  invai'iably  to 
him  ;  it  terminates  wholly  in  him  ;  and  then 
obtains  its  first,  its  principal  purpose,  when 
sinners  are  brought  to  their  divine  Redeem- 
er for  righteousness  and  strength ;  for  that 
righteousness  which  entitles  to  heaven,  that 
strength  which  capacitates  for  obedience. 

"  The  law  hath  concluded  all  mankind 
under  sin,"  Gal.  iii.  10  ;  yet  not  with  an 
intention  that  any  should  be  discouraged 
now  or  perish  for  ever  ;  but  that  every  one 
may  see  his  inexpressible  need  of  a  Saviom^'s 
death,  and  a  Saviour's  obedience  ;  that,  be- 
ing thus  prepared  both  to  value  and  receive 
so  precious  a  blessing,  the  promise  of  justi- 
fication "  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  may  be 
given  to  them  that  believe." 

Let  us  advert  to  this  grand  aim  of  the 
law.  Then  we  shall  see  goodness,  unques- 
tionable and  sovereign  goodness,  in  forming 
its  constitution  so  sublimely  perfect,  and 
making  its  threatenings  so  inflexibly  severe. 
Exclusive  of  this  wholesome  severity,  we 
should  supinely  disesteem,  perhaps  wanton- 
ly reject,  the  grace  of  the  gospel.  The  pro- 
digal son  would  never  have  returned  to  his 
father,  in  that  humble,  submissive,  suppli- 
cating posture,  if  he  had  not  found  his  cir- 
cumstances utterly  ruined,  and  felt  himself 


piece,  entitled,  "  Human  Nature  in  its  Fourfold 
state,"  by  Mr.  Thomas  Boston,  page  i27,  which,  in 
my  opinion,  is  one  of  our  best  books  for  common 
readers.  Tlie  sentences  are  short,  and  the  compari- 
sons striking.  The  language  is  easy,  and  the  doctrme 
evangelical.  T^e  method  proper,  the  plan  compre- 
hensive ;  the  manner  searching,  yet  consolatory.  If 
another  celebrated  treatise  is  styled,  "  The  whole  duty 
of  Man,"  I  would  call  this  the  whole  of  Man  ;  as  it  com- 
prises— what  he  was  originally — what  he  is  by  trans- 
gresson— v/hat  he  should  be  through  grace — and  then 
what  he  will  be  in  glory. 


DIALOGUE  X. 


261 


perishing  with  hunger.  No  more  would 
the  conceited  sons  of  Adam,  disclaiming  all 
pretence  to  any  merit  of  their  own,  and  with 
nothing  but  the  halter*  of  self  condemna- 
tion about  their  necks,  fall  down  at  the  feet 
of  a  merciful  Redeemer,  if  they  were  not 
instigated  by  the  sharp  goad,  or  rather  dri- 
ven by  the  flaming  sword  of  the  law. 

Ther.  Has  the  law,  then,  nothing  to  do 
with  our  temper  and  conversation  ?  Is  it  no 
longer  to  be  considered  as  a  system  of  du- 
ties? nolongerto  be  regarded  as  a  ruleof  life? 

Asp.  When  it  has  forced  the  lines  of 
self-righteousness,  and  driven  us  to  Jesus 
Christ,  that  only  citadel  of  safety,  for  ac- 
ceptance and  salvation,  then  it  serves  as  a 
rule  for  our  conduct  ;  then  it  shows  us, 
like  a  friend  and  a  guide,  how  to  order  our 
conversation,  and  adorn  our  profession  ; 
how  to  glorify  God,  and  express  our  grati- 
tude to  Christ.  But  till  it  has  accomplish- 
ed the  fore-mentioned  end,  it  thunders 
vengeance,  it  flashes  terror ;  it  is,  as  Moses 
speaks,  a  "  fiery  law."f 

And  is  it,  my  dear  Theron,  a  fiery  law? 
Then  let  it  constrain  us  to  take  shelter  in 
that  meritorious  obedience,  which  will  be, 
to  our  guilty  souls,  "  as  the  cold  of  snow 
in  the  time  of  harvest."  Prov.  xxv.  13. 
Is  it  a  law  which  "  worketh  wrath  ?"  Let 
it  endear  to  our  affections  that  inestimably 
precious  gospel,  which  "  preachetli  peace 
by  Jesus -Christ-"  Acts  x.  3(j.  Is  it  •'  the 
ministration  of  condemnation  ?"  2  Cor.  iii. 
19.  O  let  it  quicken  our  flight  to  that  all- 
gracious  Surety,  who  was  condemned  at 
Pilate's  bar,  that  we  may  be  acquitted  at 
God's  tribunal  ! 

To  all  this  agrees  our  celebrated  Milton, 
whose  divinity  is  as  faultless  as  his  poetry 
is  matchless.  You  wiil  give  me  leave  to 
quote  a  few  of  his  beautiful  lines,  which  re- 
capitulate, as  it  were,  the  whole  preceding 
conversation  ;  and  while  they  recapitulate 
the  conversation,  confirm  the  doctrine. 
This  will  make  you  some  amends  for  my 
late  tedious  harangue,  this  will  tip  the  lead 
with  gold. 

So  law  appears  imperfect;  and  but  giv'ii 

With  purpose  to  resign  them,  in  full  time, 

Up  to  a  Ijetter  cov'nant  ;  disciplin'd 

From  shadowy  types  to  truth  ;  from  flesh  to  spirit; 

From  imposition  of  strict  laws,  to  free 

Acceptance  of  large  grace ;  from  servile  fear 

To  filial ;  works  of  law  to  works  of  faith." 

Book  xii.  I.  300. 


DIALOGUE  X. 


*  Alluding  to  those  remarkable  words  of  Hcnha- 
dad's  servants ;  "  Let  us  put  sackcloth  upon  our 
loins  and  ropes  upon  our  heads,  and  go  oat  to  meet 
the  king  of  Israel  ;  peradvenlure  he  will  save  thy 
life.  "  1  Kings  XX.  31. 

t  Fiery  law,  Deut.  xxxiii.  2.  I  dare  not  aflirm 
that  this  is  the  exact  import  of  the  original,  nor  do  1 
presume  to  determine  the  precise  signification  of  a 
phrase  so  remarkably  didicult.  Hut  as  this  is  our  re- 
ceived version  ;  as  it  suggests  a  very  useful  truth, 
and  a  truth,  which,  in  the  i>resent  age,  is  peculiarly 
needful  to  be  inculcated,  I  am  inclined  to  acquiesce 
in  the  common  rendering. 


Asp.  Again,  Theron  !  must  we  never 
lay  aside  the  weapons  of  controversy  ? — 
You  put  me  in  mind  of  the  resolute  Athe- 
nian, who,  having  fought  with  distinguished 
bravery  on  the  field  of  Marathon,  pur- 
sued the  vanquished  Persians  to  their  fleet. 
At  that  very  instant,  a  galley  full  of  the 
enemy's  troops  was  putting  oft"  to  sea.  De- 
termined, if  possible,  to  prevent  their  es- 
cape, he  laid  hold  of  the  vessel  with  his 
right  hand,  which  was  no  sooner  fixed,  than 
chopped  off  by  the  sailors.  The  warrior, 
not  at  all  discouraged,  seized  it  with  his 
left.  When  that  also  was  cutaway,  he  fas- 
tened his  teeth  in  its  side ;  and  never 
quitted  his  gripe,  till  he  resigned  his 
breath.* 

Ther.  I  have  been  considering  the  case 
of  imputed  righteousness,  and  am  by  no 
means  satisfied  as  to  the  propriety  of  the 
jihrase,  or  the  truth  of  the  doctrine,  especi- 
ally in  the  sense  which  you  espouse.  Ob- 
jections arise,  more  substantial  and  weighty 
than  any  that  have  hitherto  been  urged  ;  and 
which,  if  I  mistake  not,  you  will  find  it  a 
more  difficult  task  to  answer. 

Asp.  I  must  do  my  best-  And  if  my  best 
attempts  prove  unsuccessful,  I  shall  say,  with 
the  gallant  Iphicrates,  when  overpowered 
by  the  eloquence  of  his  antagonist,  "  My 
adversary  is  the  better  actor,  but  mine  is  the 
better  play." 

I  say  better ;  for  to  you,  Theron,  I  will 
freely  own,  what  to  another  person  I  should 
not  be  so  willmg  to  disclose, — That  I  re- 
ceive no  comfort,  but  from  the  habitual 
belief,  and  daily  application,  of  this  precious 
doctrine.  Whenever  I  read  the  most  cor- 
rect and  beautiful  writings  that  proceed  in 
the  contrary  strain,  1  feel  my  spirits  heavy, 
I  find  my  prospects  gloomy,  and  not  one 
ray  of  consolation  gleams  upon  my  mind. 
Whereas,  much  meaner  compositions,  which 
breathe  the  savour  of  this  evangelical  unction, 
seldom  fail  to  quicken  my  hopes,  to  brighten 
my  views,  and  put  into  my  mouth  that  pious- 
ly-alert profession  of  the  Psalmist,  "  1  will 
run  the  way  of  thy  comniaiiilinents,  now 
thou  hast  set  my  heart  at  liberty."  Psalm 
cxix.  32.  Though  I  am  far  from  laying  any 
considerable  stress  upon  this  observation, 
farther  still  from  advancing  it  into  the  place 
of  an  argument,  yet  I  may  be  permitted  to 
■mention  it  in  the  confidence  and  familiai'ity 
of  friendship. 


*  The  Athenian's  name  was  Cyna?gyrus.  The  au- 
thor who  relates  this  extraordinary  story,  is  Justin. 
If  the  reader  should  think  it  a  rhodomontade,  I  be- 
lieve he  will  not  judge  amiss.  And  I  promise  myself, 
the  same  good  sense  will  enable  him  to  distinguish 
between  what  is  hinted  by  way  of  pleasantrv,  and 
what  is  urged  by  way  of  argiunent. 


2.^2 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Ther.  An  opinion  proposed  with  so  much 
modesty,  and  so  nearly  connected  with  my 
Aspasio's  comfort,  has  doubtless  a  claim  to 
my  serious  attention.  Otherwise,  it  might 
possibly  provoke  my  raiUery.  For  you  must 
know  I  am  no  great  admirer  of  inward  feel- 
ings. I  cannot  think  tJiem  a  very  solid  me- 
thod of  demonstrating  your  point.  It  must 
be  enforced  by  better  reasons,  if  you  would 
gain  it  access  to  my  heart. 

We  must  place,  you  say,  a  dependence 
upon  the  Lord  Jesus  Cluist,  in  all  that  he 
has  done  and  suffered.  What  he  has  done 
and  suffered,  you  add,  is  our  only  justifying 
righteousness  ;  and  to  place  our  dependence 
on  it,  is  the  only  method  to  obtain  pardon 
of  our  sins,  and  life  eternal. 

Asp-  I  have  said  it,  'I'heron,  and  I  abide 
by  it.    Tiiis  being  the  righteousness  of  God, 

Ther.  Give  me  leave,  before  you  proceed 
farther,  to  propose  a  query.  Does  the  righ- 
teousness of  God  signify  the  active  and 
passive  obedience  of  Christ? 

Asp.  Righteousness  is  a  conformity  to  the 
law,  in  heart  and  in  life.  As  the  Son  of 
God  voluntarily  made  himself  subject  to  the 
law,  perfectly  fulfilled  its  precepts,  and  suf- 
fered to  the  utmost  its  penalty ;  this,  1 
should  imagine,  furnishes  us  with  the  truest 
and  noblest  signification  of  the  phrase. 

Ther.  What  if  I  or  others  should  imagine 
quite  the  reverse  ? 

Asp.  I  thank  my  friend  for  his  admoni- 
tion. It  is  indeed  unreasonable  that  my  bare 
imagination  should  pass  for  orthodoxy  and 
truth.  Let  us  then  inquire  after  better  proof. 

When  the  divine  name,  in  the  sacred 
phraseology,  is  added  to  a  substantive,  it 
expresses  some  very  extraordinai-y  property. 
"  The  trees  of  the  Lord,"  Psal.  civ.  16, 
denote  those  stately  and  magnificent  forests, 
which  the  hand  of  the  Most  High  planted. 
"  The  mountains  of  God,*'  are  those  pro- 
digiously lajge  elevations  of  the  earth,  which 
none  but  an  almighty  arm  could  establish. 
The  righteousness  of  God  likewise  means  a 
righteousness  of  the  most  supereminent  dig- 
nity ;  such  as  is  worthy  to  be  called  by  his 
name,  and  may  justly  challenge  his  accept- 
ance. And  where  shall  we  find  this,  but  in 
the  conduct  and  person  of  his  blessed  Son? 
This  has  a  most  unexceptionable  claim  to 
the  exalted  title  ;  being,  as  a  masterly  critic 
explains  the  phrase,  "  a  righteousness  de- 
vised by  God  the  Father,  from  all  eternity  ; 
wrought  out  by  God  the  Son,  in  the  per? 
son  of  Jesus  Christ ;  applied  by  God  the 
Holy  Ghost  to  the  sinner's  soul." 

Ther.  This  doctrine  of  yours,  if  I  rightly 
understand  it,  would  make  remission  of  sins 
but  one  half  of  our  justification,  and  some- 

'  This  is  the  import  of  the  original  □">n'^J>i 
1  irl)  Psahn  xxxvi.  verse  7,  Hebrew  ;  verse  (5,  Kjit,-- 
•ish. 


thing  else  necessaiy  in  order  to  obtain  etef 
nal  life  ;  which  is  just  as  rational  as  to  sup- 
pose, that  though  one  cause  may  expel  dark- 
ness, another  must  supeiTene  in  order  to 
introduce  light. 

Asp.  The  nature  of  justification,  and  the 
nature  of  condemnation,  are  two  opposites, 
which  will  mutually  illustrate  each  other. 
What  is  implied  in  the  condemnation  of  a 
sinner  ?  He  forfeits  eternal  life,  and  is 
doomed  to  eternal  death.  What  is  includ- 
ed in  the  justification  of  a  sinner  ?  It  super- 
sedes his  obligation  to  punishment,  and  in- 
vests him  with  a  title  to  happiness.  In  or- 
der to  the  first,  there  must  be  a  remission 
of  sins  ;  in  order  to  the  second,  an  imputa- 
tion of  righteousness.  Both  which  are  de- 
rived from  Christ's  mediation  in  our  behalf; 
and  both  take  place  when  we  are  united  to 
that  divine  head :  So  that  we  do  not  derive 
them  from  two  different  sources,  but  as- 
cribe them  to  one  and  the  same  great  all- 
sufficient  Cause. 

Your  comparison,  though  intended  to 
overthrow,  I  think  fully  establishes  the  sen- 
timent. When  yonder  bright  orb  makes 
his  first  appearance  in  the  east,  what  effects 
are  produced  ?  The  shades  of  night  are 
dispersed,  and  the  light  of  day  is  diffused. 
To  what  are  they  owing — Each  to  a  sepa- 
rate, or  both  to  the  same  origin  ? — Every 
one's  experience  will  answer  the  question. 
Thus,  when  the  "  Sun  of  righteousness" 
arises  in  the  soul,  he  brings  at  once  pardon 
and  acceptance.  Remission  and  salvation 
are  under  his  wings.  Both  which  consti- 
tute the  "  heaJing  of  the  nations,"  Mai.  iv. 
2. ;  and  both  owe  their  being  to  Christ's 
obedience,  embraced  as  active,  and  not  re- 
jected as  passive. 

Ther.  This,  I  know,  is  the  fine-spun 
theory  of  your  systematic  divines.  But 
where  is  their  warrant  from  scripture  ?  By 
what  authority  do  they  introduce  such  sub- 
tle distinctions? 

Asp.  I  cannot  think  the  distinction  so  sub- 
tle, or  the  theory  so  finely  spun.  To  be 
released  from  the  damnatory  sentence,  is 
one  thing;  to  be  treated  as  a  righteous 
person,  is  evidently  another.  Absalom  was 
pardoned,  when  he  received  a  permission 
to  remove  from  Geshur  and  dwell  at  Jeru- 
salem ;  but  this  was  very  different  from  the 
recommencement  of  filial  duty  and  parental 
endearment.  2  Sam.  xiv.  21.  A  rebel  may 
be  exempted  from  the  capital  punishment 
which  his  traitorous  practices  deserve,  with- 
out being  restored  to  the  dignity  of  his  for- 
mer state,  or  the  rights  of  a  loyal  subject. 
In  Christianity  likew  ise,  to  be  freed  from 
the  charge  of  guilt,  and  to  be  regarded  as  a 
righteous  person,  are  two  several  blessings, 
really  distinct  in  themselves,  and  often  dis- 
tinguished in  scripture. 

Ther.  Where  are  they  distinguished  ?    in 


what  texts  of  scripture  ?  This  is  what  I 
called  for — your  scriptural  warraTit. 

Asp.  What  think  you  of  Job's  reply  to 
his  censorious  friends  ?  "  God  forbid  that 
I  should  justify  you."  Job.  xxvii-  5.  That 
he  forgave  them,  there  is  no  doubt.  Yet 
he  could  not  justify  them  ;  could  not  allow 
their  reflections  to  be  equitable,  or  their 
behaviour  charitable. 

What  think  you  of  Solomon's  supplica- 
tion ?  "  Then  hear  thou  in  heaven,  and  do, 
and  judge  thy  servants  ;  condennning  the 
wicked,  to  bring  his  way  upon  his  head  ; 
and  justifying  the  righteous,  to  give  him  ac- 
cording to  his  righteousness."  I  Kings  viii- 
32.  To  condemn,  in  this  passage,  evident- 
ly signifies,  to  pronounce  guilty,  and  ob- 
noxious to  punishment.  By  parity  of  rea- 
son, to  justify,  must  denote,  to  pronounce 
righteous,  and  entitle  to  happiness. 

What  says  Solomon's  father  ?  "  Enter 
not  into  judgment  with  thy  servant,  O 
Lord  !  for,  in  thy  sight,  shall  no  man  living 
be  justified  I"  Psalm  cxliii.  2.  A  man 
might  be  pardoned,  if  judged  according  to 
the  tenor  of  his  own  obedience.  But  no 
man  could  be  declared  righteous,  in  conse- 
riuence  of  such  a  trial :  this  were  absolute- 
ly and  universally  impossible- 

From  ail  which  passages  I  conclude,  that 
to  be  justified  is  different  from,  is  superior 
to,  the  bare  remission  of  sin. 

Thrr.  All  these  instances  are  derived 
from  the  Old  Testament ;  the  New,  if  I 
mistake  not,  speaks  another  language.  Con- 
sider the  case  of  the  penitent  publican. 
What  does  he  request  ?  "  God  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner!"  What  does  he  obtain? 
"  He  went  down  to  his  house  justified." 
Lukexviii.  13,1+.  If,  then,  the  petition  and  the 
grant  may  be  dc?emed  correspondent,  pardon 
and  j  ustification  must  be  reckoned  equivalent. 

Asp.  The  Old  and  the  New  Testament 
are,  in  their  style  and  contents,  exactly  cor- 
respondent. Echo,  in  yonder  cloisters, 
does  not  more  punctually  reverberate  the 
speaker's  voice,  than  those  divine  books 
harmonize  with  each  other- 
Yet  it  will  not  follow,  from  the  publican's 
request  and  the  publican's  blessing,  that  par- 
don and  justification  are  the  same:  (July 
that  God's  bounty  frequently  exceeds  our 
prayers,  and  is  larger  than  our  expectations  ; 
or  that  the  blessing  which  was  implored, 
and  the  blessing  which  was  vouchsafed,  are 
inseparably  connected,  and  always  accom- 
pany each  other. 

St.  Paul  mentions  "ajustificationof life  ;" 
not  barely  an  exemption  from  the  sentence  Of 
death,  but  such  a  justification,  as  gives  a  title 
(Rom.  i.  18,)  to  the  reward  of  life.  The 
words  ar(>  very  emphatical.  We  shall  in- 
jure the  dignity  of  their  meaning,  if  we  un- 
derslaufl  them  in  a  more  contracted  sense. 
Towards  the  close  of  the  same  chapter,  we 


DIALOGUE  X.  253 

have  another  passage  rich  with  consolation 
and  full  to  our  purpose:  "  Grace  reigneth 
through  righteousness  unto  eternal  life." 
Rom.  v.  21.  Here  is  pointed  out  the 
prime  source  of  all  our  blessings — infinitely 
free  and  triumj)hant  grace  :  the  meritorious 
cause — not  any  works  of  man,  not  any  qua- 
lifications of  our  own,  but  the  perfect  right- 
eousness of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ :  the 
effect  or  end  of  all — which  is  not  barely  aii 
absolution  from  guilt,  but  an  instatement  in 
life  ;  a  life  of  holy  communion  with  God  in 
this  world,  to  be  crowned  with  an  eternal 
fruition  of  him  in  another." 

Let  me  produce  one  text  more,  which 
just  at  this  instant  occurs  to  my  memory. 
You  will  find  it  in  the  apostle's  defence  of 
himself  before  Festus  and  Agrippa.  He 
opens,  as  it  were,  his  apostolical  commis- 
sion, and  repeats  the  words  of  his  royal 
Master :  "  I  send  thee"  to  ignorant  and  en- 
slaved, guilty  and  ruined  creatures  "  to  turn 
them  from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the 
power  of  Satan  unto  God  ;  that  they  may 
receive  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  inheritance 
among  all  them  which  are  sanctified  by  faith 
that  is  in  me."  Acts.  xxvi.  18.  The  great 
preacher  of  the  Gentiles,  or  rather  the  su- 
preme Lord  of  all  preachers,  has  distinguish- 
ed between  remission  of  sins  and  the  inhe- 
ritance of  saints  ;  between  the  pardon  that 
delivers  from  hell,  and  the  justification  that 
entitles  to  heaven.  So  that  the  former 
does  by  no  means  constitute  the  latter  ;  but 
is  connected  with  it,  as  a  link  in  the  same 
sacred  chain ;  or  included  in  it,  as  part  of 
the  same  glorious  whole. 

T/ier.  Admitting  your  distinction  to  be 
proper,  is  not  the  satisfaction  made  by  the 
death  of  Christ  sufficient  of  itself  to  obtain 
both  our  full  pardon, and  our  final  happiness? 
Asp.  Since  my  friend  has  started  the 
question,  I  may  venture,  with  all  reverence 
to  the  divine  counsels,  to  answer  in  the  ne- 
gative ;  it  being  necessary  that  the  Re- 
deemer of  men  shoidd  obey,  as  well  as  suf- 
fer in  their  stead.  For  this  w^e  have  the 
testimony  of  our  Lord  himself.  "  This 
commandment,"  says  he,  "  have  I  received 
of  my  Father,  that  I  should  lay  down  my 
life,"  (John  x.  18-)  "  Thus  it  becometh 
us,"  adds  he  in  another  place,  "  to  fulfil  all 
righteousness."  (Matth.  iii.  15.)  To  which 
his  apostle  subjoins,  that,  if  we  reign  in  life, 
it  nnist  be  not  oidy  through  those  sufferings 
which  expiate,  but  also  through  that  right- 
eousness which  merits.  (Horn,  v-  17.) 

T/ier.  Our  Lord's  testimony  relates  only 
to  a  positive  institution,  and  is  quite  foreign 
to  our  purj)Ose.  I  have  often  been  dis- 
gusted at  such  strained  applications  of  scrip- 
ture.     The  partizans  of  a  system  wrest  the 


»  Accordingly,  <  tprnal  life  is  called  the  hope,  not 
of  forgiveness  but  of  righteousness,  Gal.  v.  6.  Aiid 
it  isl)ebtowcd,  not  barely  l)ecause  of  aljsoliition,  but 
becaiise  of  righteousness,  Rom.  viii.  Id. 


2,54 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


sacred  book.  They  deal  with  divine  truth, 
as  the  tyrant  Prociistes  served  those  un- 
happy creatures  who  fell  into  his  merciless 
hands.  Is  a  text  too  short  to  suit  their 
design  ?  Our  Procustean  expositors  can 
stretch  it  on  the  rack,  and  lengthen  its 
sense.  Is  it  too  full  to  consist  with  their 
scheme  ?  They  can  lop  off  a  limb,  secrete 
a  sentence,  or  contract  the  meaning.  Is  this 
to  reverence  the  great  God  ?  Is  this  to  treat 
respectfully  his  holy  word  ? 

Asp.  I  have  been  grieved,  I  assure  you,  and 
disgusted  at  this  practice, as  well  as  yourself; 
a  practice  not  only  very  irreverent,  but  very 
injudicious  also.  It  really  prejudices  the  cause 
it  would  unfairly  recommend.  Such  a  sup- 
port is  like  "  a  broken  tooth,  or  a  foot  out 
of  joint,"  (Prov.  xxv.  19.)  not  only  unser- 
viceable, but  hurtful ;  an  obstruction,  rather 
than  a  furtherance.  However,  I  am  not  con- 
scious of  committing  any  violence  on  this 
passage,  or  of  forcing  it  into  my  ser- 
vice. The  circumstance  you  object,  rather 
strengthens  than  invalidates  the  conclusion. 
If  it  was  so  requisite  for  our  blessed  Me- 
diator to  observe  a  positive  institution,  how 
much  more  necessary  to  fuliil  those  moral 
precepts,  whose  obligation  is  unalterable  and 
everlasting  ? 

Besides,  it  should  be  considered  whether 
Christ's  sufferings  were  a  complete  satisfac- 
tion to  the  law.  Complete  they  were  with 
regard  to  the  penalty,  not  with  regard  to  the 
precept.  A  distinction  obvious  and  im- 
portant. From  whence  arises  the  follow- 
ing argument,  which,  for  once,  you  will 
allow  me  to  propose  in  the  logical  form. 

By  what  alone  the  law  was  not  satis- 
fied, by  that  alone  sinners  coidd  not  be  jus- 
tified : 

By  Christ's  sufferings  alone,  the  law  was 
not  satisfied. 

Therefore,  by  Christ's  sufferings  alone, 
sinners  could  not  be  justified. 

But  when  we  join  the  active  with  the 
passive  obedience  of  our  Lord,  the  efBcacy 
of  the  one,  with  the  perfection  of  the  other, 
how  does  our  justification  stand  firm,  in  the 
fullest  sense  of  the  word.  We  have  all 
that  the  law  demands,  both  for  our  exemp- 
tion from  the  curse,  and  as  a  title  to  the 
blessing. 

Ther.  Does  not  the  scripture  ascribe  the 
whole  of  our  salvation  to  the  death  of  Chiist  ? 
delivering  it  as  a  never-to-be-forgotten  max- 
im in  Christianity,  That  "  we  have  redemp- 
tion through  his  blood,  (Eph.  i.  7.)  "are 
brought  near  through  the  blood  of  Christ," 
(Eph.  ii.  13.)  nay,  that  "we  are  justified," 
(the  very  point  under  debate)  "  through  his 
blood,"  (Rom.  v.  9.)  Would  the  inspired 
writer  have  assigned  these  various  blessings 
to  this  one  cause,  if  it  had  been  a  price  in- 
adequate to  the  purchase,  or  a  means  insuf- 
ficient to  accomplish  the  end  ? 


Asp.  This  part  of  our  Lord's  meritorious 
humiliation  is,  by  a  very  usual  figure,  put 
for  the  whole.  The  death  of  Christ  in- 
cludes, not  only  his  sufferings,  but  his  obe- 
dience. The  shedding  of  his  precious 
blood  was  at  once  the  grand  instance  of  his 
suffering,  and  the  finishing  act  of  his  obe- 
dience. In  this  view  it  is  considered,  and 
thus  it  is  interpreted,  by  his  own  ambassa- 
dor, who,  speaking  of  his  di^^ne  Master, 
says,  "  He  was  obedient  unto  death,  even 
the  death  of  the  cross."  (Phil.  ii.  8.) 

By  the  same  figure,  faith  is  sometimes 
said  to  be  a  lively,  influential  persuasion, 
"  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins,"  ( 1  Cor.  xv, 
3.)  At  other  times,  it  is  represented  as  a 
firm  practical  belief,  that  "  God  hath  raised 
him  from  the  dead,"  (Rom.  x.  9.)  Neither 
of  which  can,  without  the  utmost  contrarie- 
ty to  the  analogy  of  Scripture,  be  taken  in 
the  exclusive  sense.  Each  act  must  be  un- 
derstood, not  separately,  but  jointly  ;  each 
as  implying  both,  or  reciprocally  inferring 
one  another. 

In  like  manner,  when  the  scripture  as- 
cribes our  justification  to  the  death  of 
Christ,  we  are  not  to  think  that  it  would 
set  aside,  but  imply  his  obedience.  It  is 
not  because  his  active  obedience  has  no 
concern  in  procuring  the  blessing,  but  be- 
cause his  bitter  passion  was  the  most  con- 
spicuous, and  the  completing  stage  of  his 
ever-glorious  imdertaking.  Then,  and  not  till 
then,  he  could  truly  say,  "  Father,  I  have 
finished  the  work  thou  gavest  me  to  do."  - 
(John  xvii.  4.) 

The?:  According  to  your  account,  then, 
it  should  be  possible  for  a  man  to  have  all 
his  sins  done  away,  yet  not  attain  to  com- 
plete justification.  Wliich  is  as  contrary  to 
sound  sense  and  true  diviinty,  as  to  imagine 
that  crookedness  may  be  removed  and  the 
object  not  become  straight. 

Asp.  No,  Theron.  vVccording  to  my  ac- 
count, it  is  impossible  that  the  active  and 
passive  obedience  of  our  Redeemer  should 
be  disjoined.  To  whomsoever  the  one  is 
imputed,  from  him  the  other  is  not  withheld. 
They  were  undivided  in  Christ  the  illus- 
trious head,  and  they  are  undivided  in  their 
application  to  his  mystical  body.  As  Christ 
in  suffering  obeyed,  and,  in  obeying,  suffer- 
ed ;  so,  whoever  receives  Christ  as  an  atone- 
ment, receives  him  also  as  a  righteousness. 

This  has  been  observed  before ;  and  if 
this  be  real  fact,  what  an  inestimably  pre- 
cious gift  is  the  gift  of  Christ !  Never  was 
the  most  Sovereign  remedy  so  admirably 
suited  to  any  malady,  as  this  is  adapted  to 
all  our  wants.     In  him  may  we  be  found,  _ 

living  and  dying  !   How  safe,  bow   happy         ■ 
then  ! — Let  'me  not  weary  your  patience,         ^ 
if  I  repeat  a  passage  from  our  excellent  Dr. 
Lightfoot,  which,  though  artless    and    re- 
markably simple,  has  very  much    affected 


DIALOGUE   X. 


my  mind,  and,  I  hope  will  leave  some  va- 
luable impression  on  my  friend's.  "  Jus- 
tification," says  that  judicious  divine,  "is 
a  man's  being  interested  in  all  Christ's  right- 
eousnes.  And  if  any  thing  is  to  be  longed 
for,  sure  that  is  to  be  interested  in  all 
Christ's  righteousness-" 

Tlier.  You  do  not  weary  my  patience, 
neither  do  you  satisfy  my  doubts.  For  you 
take  no  notice  of  the  absurdity  objected,  and 
the  comjjarison  that  enforces  it. 

Afip.  Your  comparison,  my  dear  friend, 
is  not  founded  on  a  parallel  case.  Neither 
sense  nor  philoso])hy  find  a  medium  be- 
tween the  removal  of  crookedness,  and  the 
succession  of  straightness.  But  reason  dis- 
cerns an  apparent,  and  revelation  maintains 
an  important  difference,  between  the  par- 
don of  guilt  and  a  title  to  life.  This  has 
already  been  proved  from  scri;)ture,  and  is, 
to  me  at  least,  evident  froui  the  very  na- 
ture of  things.  For  if  a  king,  in  favour  of 
some  condemned  malefactor,  revoke  the 
sentence  of  death,  this  is  one  very  consider- 
able act  of  clemency.  But  if  he  pleases  to 
make  the  pardoned  criminal  a  partaker  of 
his  kingdom,  or  an  heir  of  his  crown,  this 
surely  is  new,  and  a  much  higher  instance 
of  royal  bounty. 

If  you  insist  upon  a  similitude,  the  word 
of  God,  which  always  speaks  with  consum- 
mate propriety,  will  furnish  us  with  one. 
Zechariah  illustrates  the  doctrine  of  justifi- 
cation. He  represents  the  sinner  by  a  per- 
son arrayed  in  filthy  garments.  His  par- 
don is  described  by  taking  away  this  sordid 
apparel.  By  which  benefit,  he  ceases  to 
be  defiled,  yet  is  he  not  hereby  clothed, 
yet  is  he  not  hereby  justified  :  This  is  an 
additional  blessing,  signified  by  putting  on 
"change  of  raiment,"  (Zech.  iii.  4,  5,)  and 
wearing  beautifid  robes.  Here  the  cir- 
cumstances tally.  The  two  constituent 
parts  of  justification  are  severally  displayed, 
and  strongly  marked.  Here  we  have  the 
removal  of  filth,  and  the  robe  of  righteous- 
ness ;  that  which  frees  us  from  being  ab- 
horred, and  that  which  renders  us  accepted  ; 
which,  though  distinguishable  in  themselves, 
and  distinguished  by  the  sacred  writer,  are 
always  united  in  the  divine  donation. 

Tlier.  Tliis  notion  is  founded  on  a  chi- 
merical covenant,  that  Christ  would  tsike 
upon  him  the  obedience  due  from  man, 
of  which  there  is  not  the  least  intimation 
in  holy  scri])ture. 

Anp.  That  Christ  undertook  every  thing 
ne(,'espar}'  to  redeem  lost  sinners  from  guilt 
and  condemnation,  every  thing  necessai'y  to 
])rocure  for  attainted  rel)els  a  fresh  title  to 
life  and  glory  ;  this  cannot  be  reckoned 
chimerical.  This  must  be  as  real,  as  that  lost 
sinners  are  redeemed,  or  attainted  rebels 
restored ;  every  proof  of  the  one  proves 
and  establishes   the   other.      This   is   what 


we  call  a  covenant,  and,  from  its  benign 
nature,  the  covenant  of  grace. 

Without  undertaking  this,  I  see  not  how 
our  Lord  could  sustain  the  character  of  a 
surety;  nor  without  fulfilling  it,  how  he 
could  execute  the  office  of  a  Redeemer. 
And  I  believe  you  yourself  will  be  at  a  loss 
to  show,  with  what  kind  of  justice  the  eter- 
nal Father  could  "  lay  our  iniquities,"  (Isa. 
liii.  6,)  on  the  innocent  Jesus,  unless  he 
had  consented  to  be  answerable  for  oiu- 
guilt. 

Titer.  This  is  no  answer  to  my  objec- 
tion. I  said,  and  it  has  been  asserted  by  a 
very  eminent  and  able  pen,  that  there  is  no 
intimation  of  any  such  covenant  in  the 
whole  scriptures. 

Asp.  What  then  can  be  the  meaning  of 
those  remarkable  words  in  the  prophecy  of 
Zechariah  ?  "  The  counsel  of  peace  shall 
be  between  them  both."*  Here,  I  think, 
the  covenant  is  mentioned,  and  the  parties 
are  specified.  "  The  council  of  peace,"  if 
I  mistake  not,  signifies  the  mysterious  and 
unsearchable  contrivance,  formed  for  the 
recovery  of  ruined  man — formed  and  carried 
into  execution  by  the  Lord  Almighty,  or 
God  the  Father,  and  that  illustrious  per- 
son who  is  to  "  build  the  temple  and  bear 
the  glory."  A  character  which  none  can 
claim,  a  task  to  which  none  is  equal,  but 
the  blessed  .lesus  only. 

In  the  40th  psalm,  the  conditions  of  the 
covenant  are  circumstantially  recorded, 
which  were,  the  incarnation  and  obedience 
of  the  eternal   Son  :   "  A   body  hast  thou 


*  Zech.  vi.  12,  13.  These  two  verses  contain  a 
brief,  but  very  fine  description  of  the  Redeemer :  of 
his  person,  his  office,  and  his  glory ;  together  with 
ttie  alI-c;racious  cause,  and  ever-blessed  fruit  of  our 
redemption. 

His  person  :  He  is  the  man  ;  or,  as  the  Hebrew  im- 
ports, the  "real,"  but  at  the  same  time,  the  "illus- 
trious man ;"  whose  name  is  the  branch,  being  the 
new  origin  of  a  new  race:  the  father  of  a  spiritual 
seed,  wiio  are  children,  not  of  the  flesh,  but  of  the 
promise.  A  branch  that  shall  spring,  not  from  a 
common  root,  not  from  any  human  planting,  but 
"  from  under  liimself,"  being  born  of  a  pure  virgin, 
and  by  the  power  of  his  own  Spirit,  he  shall  be  both 
stock  anil  stem  to  himself. 

His  oHice :  it  is  to  build  the  temple,  the  church  of 
the  elect  which  is  the  house  of  the  living  God,  in 
which  he  dwells,  and  by  whom  he  is  worshipped, 
laying  the  foundation  of  this  spiritual  edifice  in  his 
cross,  and  cementing  it  with  his  blood.  Which  he 
shall  rule  as  a  king  after  having  redeemed  it  as  a 
priest :  uniting  the  sacerdotal  censer  with  the  regal 
diadem,  and  teing  a  priest  upon  his  throne.  Hence 
proceeds  his  glory  ;  for  he  stands  not,  like  other 
priests,  ofl'ering daily  the  same  oblations;  but  hav- 
ing,  by  one  sacrifice,  obtained  eternal  redemption  for 
us,  is  set  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on 
high. 

What  is  the  cause  of  these  great  events  ?  What, 
but  that  most  sacred  and  august  convention,  the 
counsel  of  peace  ?  which  was  settled  between  them 
both  ;  between  the  Lord  Jehovah  on  one  hand,  and 
the  man  whose  name  is  the  Branch  on  the  other. 
Called  a  council,  from  the  entire  consent  which  ac- 
tuated each  party,  and  the  transcendent  wisdom 
displayed  in  the  whole  scheme.  "  The  council  of 
peace,"  because  of  its  sovereign  efficacy  to  make 
peace  with  an  offended  God,  peace  in  the  accusing 
consitience,  peace  among  people  of  jarring  tempers 
and  discordant  principles. 


256 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


prepared  me.  Lo  !  I  come  to  do  thy  will." 
(Pleb.  X.  3,  7.)  The  accomplishment  of 
these  conditions  is  alleged  and  pleaded  by 
our  great  Mediator,  in  the  introduction  to 
his  last  solemn  prayer.  (John  xvii.)  What 
he  implores,  in  the  process  of  his  supplica- 
tions, may  be  looked  upon  as  the  recom- 
pense* decreed  him  by  the  Father,  and 
stipulated  in  this  magnificent  treaty.  Im- 
plores, did  I  say?  It  is  very  observable, 
that  our  Lord  makes  a  demand,  rather  than 
a  request.  The  expression  is  not  ej^t* 
but  hka>,f  a  word  of  authority,  not  of  sup- 
plication. He  claims  what  by  the  Father's 
engagement,  and  by  his  own  obedience, 
was  become  his  unquestionable  right. 

Here  are  the  parties  of  the  covenant,  the 
conditions  of  the  covenant,  the  performance 
of  the  covenant,  aiid  the  reward,  ^\■hich,  by 
virtue  of  such  performance,  is  merited,  is 
claimable,  is  due.  All  this,  I  should  ima- 
gine, amounts  to  an  intimation,  and  some- 
what more  than  an  intimation  of  the  cove- 
najit. 

Ther.  This  you  call  the  covenant  of 
grace  ;  but  if  we  are  justified  by  Christ's 
fulfilling  of  the  law,  we  are  justified  by 
works.  So  that,  before  you  can  strike  out 
such  a  way  of  salvation,  you  must  contra- 
dict yoiu'self ;  and,  what  is  more  adventur- 
ous, you  must  abolish  that  fundamental 
principle  of  the  gospel,  "  by  the  works  of 
the  law  shall  no  flesh  be  justified." 

Asp.  We  are,  I  grant  it,  justified  by 
works.  But  whose  ?  The  works  of 
Christ,  not  our  own.  This  is  veiy  far  from 
contradicting  oiu:selves,  equally  far  is  it 
from  abolishing  what  you  call  the  gospel- 
principle,  which,  though  an  undeniable 
truth,  is  not  an  evangelical  doctrine ;  be- 
cause it  only  shows  us  oiu'  miserable  state, 
and  the  utter  impossibility  of  relieving  our- 
selves. Whereas,  nothing  is  genuine  gos- 
pel, but  what  speaks  comfort,  and  adminis- 
ters recovery. 

Between  the  covenant  of  works,  and  the 
covenant  of  grace,  this,  I  apprehend,  is  the 
diflference  :  —  By  the  former,  man  was  in- 
dispensably bound  to  obey,  in  his  ov.'n  per- 
son :  By  the  latter,  the  obedience  of  his 
surety  is  accepted,  instead  of  his  own.  The 
righteousness  required  by  both,  is  not  sin- 
cere, but  comjiletc ;  not  proportioned  to 
the  abilities  of  fallen  man,  but  to  the  pmi- 
ty  of  the  law,  and  the  majesty  of  the  Law- 
giver. By  this  means,  the  glory  of  God, 
as  an  awfid  sovereign,  and  the  glory  of  his 
law,  as  an  inviolable  system,  are  entirely 
preserved  and  illustriously  displayed.  The 
(salvation    of  sinners  neither  clashes  M'ith 


*  This  recompense  is  specified  and  promised  in  an- 
other aiithentiocopy 'of  the  same  grand  treaty,  re- 
corded.    Isaish  xlix.  1 — 6. 

t  Not  /  beg,  but  /  will.  John  xvii.  24.  Sic  vnlo, 
aifjub»u. 


the  truth,  nor  interferes  Avith  the  justice  of 
the  Supreme  Legislator.  On  the  contrary, 
it  becomes  a  faithfid  and  just  procedure 
of  the  most  high  God,  to  justify  "  him  that 
belie veth  on  Jesus."   (1  John  i.  9.) 

Ther.  When  you  mak-e  this  diflference  be- 
tween the  two  covenants,  where  is  your 
authority  from  scripture  ?  Which  of  the 
sacred  writers  have  taught  us,  that  though 
one  demanded  personal,  the  other  is  content 
with  vicarious  obedience  ? 

Asp.  Which?  The  firct  three.  The 
most  eminent  historian,  the  most  enraptur- 
ed poet,  and  the  most  zealous  preacher.  I 
need  not  inform  you,  that  I  mean  Moses, 
David,  and  Paul- 

The  testimony  of  David  has  been  already 
recited.  Moses  gives  us  a  concise,  but  very 
instructive  account  of  the  second  covenant. 
With  whom,  according  to  his  representa- 
tion, was  it  made  ?  Not  with  Adam,  or 
any  of  his  posterity,  but  with  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  in  the  room  and  stead  of  both. 
None  of  the  articles  are  proposed  to  a  poor, 
impotent,  ruined  creature  ;  but  the  whole  is 
c-onsigned  over  to  the  interposing  Saviour, 
significantly  described  by  "  the  seed  of  the 
woman."  It  is  not  said,  "  Thy  best  en- 
deavours, O  Adam  !  thy  true  repentance 
and  sincere  obedience,  shall  retrieve  this 
fatal  miscarriige  ;  but,  "  the  seed  of  the 
woman  shall  bruise  the  serpent's  head,'" 
Gen.  iii.  13;  the  Son  of  the  Most  High, 
by  taking  thy  nature,  submitting  to  thy  obli- 
gations, and  sufl"ering  death  for  thy  sins, 
shall  fully  repair  thy  loss. 

Christ,  we  see,  undertook  to  execute  the 
conditions.  Christ  was  our  representative 
in  this  great  transaction.  For  which  reason 
he  is  styled  by  St.  Paul,  "  the  second  man," 
1  Cor.  XV.  48  ;  and  "  the  surety  of  a  better 
covenant,"  Heb.  vii.  22.  Our  help  being 
laid  upon  one  that  is  so  mighty,  upon  one 
that  is  so  faithful,  the  covenant  is  said  to  be 
"  in  all  things  well  ordered  and  sure,"  2 
Sam.  xxiii.  5;  admirably  well  ordered  in- 
deed, for  the  comfort  of  the  Chiistian,  and 
the  security  of  his  salvation.  "  It  is  true," 
may  he  argue,  *'  I  cannot  fulfil  the  condi- 
tions, and  it  is  equally  true,  that  this  is  not 
required  at  my  hands.  The  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  of  his  adorably  rich  goodness,  has 
performed  all  that  was  conditionary  ;  and 
has  established  for  me  and  for  his  people  a 
valid  title  to  the  promises,  the  privileges, 
and" 

Ther.  "  Has  thereby  released  me  from 
all  obligation  to  duty."  Farewell  then  to 
our  own  obedience  :  No  more  occasion  for 
any  holiness  of  life.  Nay,  the  sluice  is  open- 
ed for  an  inundation  of  ungodliness.  Fine 
divinity  truly  !  Should  I  not  rather  say, 
downright  Antinomianism  ! 

Asp.  No,  my  friend,  "  Christ  came  not 
to  destroy  the  law,  but  to  fulfil ;"  Mntth.  v. 


DIALOGUE   X. 


25? 


17-  H«!  lias  fulfilled  it  to  the  vciy  utter- 
most in  his  own  person.  He  lias  also  mer- 
ited Ibriis  those  supplies  of  the  Spirit,  which 
iiloiie  can  enable  weak  corrupt  creatures  to 
yield  faithful  and  acce])table  obedience. 
Though  our  Lord  Jesus  died,  and  wns  obe- 
dient "  for  the  ungodly  ;"  though  he  finds 
us  ungodly  when  he  justifies  us ;  yet  he 
never  leaves  his  people  in  this  abominable 
state.  "  On  the  contrary,  he  "  teaches 
them  to  deny  all  ungodliness  and  worldly 
lusts,"  Tit.  ii.  12. 

Pray,  let  us  consider  the  tenor  of  this 
covenant,  since  you  are  so  very  apprehensive 
of  its  consequences-  "  I  will  put  my  laws 
into  their  minds,  and  on  their  hearts  will  I 
write  them,"  Heb.  viii.  10.  "  They  skill 
discern  such  a  beauty  and  glory  in  my  pre- 
cepts, as  will  engage  their  desires,  and  win 
their  affections  ;  so  that  it  shall  be  no  long- 
er their  burden,  but  their  delight,  even  their 
meat  and  drink,  to  do  the  will  of  their  Fa- 
ther in  heaven." — This,  this  is  one  of  the 
privileges  purchased  by  our  great  Mediator. 
And  it  seems  wondrous  strange,  that  the 
purchase  of  an  estate  for  you  or  me,  should 
be  reckoned  the  sure  means  to  deprive  us 
of  the  possession,  or  debar  us  from  the  en- 
joyment. 

How  often  is  this  weak  surmise  urged  as 
an  argument  ?  all  whose  plausibility  is  ow- 
ing to  a  palpable  mistake,  or  an  egregious 
fallacy  ;  to  a  supposed  separation  of  things 
which  are  absolutely  inseparable — I  mean 
our  justification  and  our  sanctification.* 
You  are  a  philosophei',  Theron.  Try,  if 
you  can  separate  giavity  from  the  stone,  or 
heat  from  the  fire.  If  these  bodies  and  their 
essential  properties  are  indissolubly  connect- 
ed, so  are  a  genuine  faith  and  a  conscienti- 
ous obedience.  To  suppose  them  disimited, 
is  as  contrary  to  sound  divinity,  as  it  would 
be  contnuy  to  true  philosophy  if  you  should 
talk  of  a  burning  substance  that  has  no 
warmth,  or  of  a  solid  substiuice  that  has  no 
weight.  Never  therefore,  my  dear  friend, 
lepeat  this  stale  objection  ;  never  proi>agate 
this   ungrounded  f   clamour  ;    nor  adopt  a 


•  See  Isa.  xlv.  24  ;  1  Cor.  i.  30  ;  1  Cor.  vi.  1 1 ;  where 
these  blessings  walk  hand  in  hand,  and  never  were, 
never  will,  never  can  be  parted. 

t  This  puts  me  in  mind  of  what  Theodorus replied 
to  I'hilodcs ;  who  was  often  insiiiuatitif;,  tii.it  he 
preached  licentious  doctrine,  because  he  enlarged 
with  peculiar  assiduity  upon  fail h  in  Jesus  Christ ; 
and  frequently  chose  such  texts  as,  "  Uclieve  in  the 
Lord  Jesus,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved." 

"  I  preach  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ;  and  give  me 
leave  to  ask,  whether  you  know  what  salvation  by 

Christ  means.'" Pniloclcs  paused.     He  began  to 

blush  ;  would  have  eluded  the  question,  and  decline*! 
an  answer.  "No,  said  Theodorus,  "  you  must  per- 
mit me  to  insist  U])on  a  reply.  Because,  if  it  be  a 
right  one,  it  will  justify  me  and  my  conduct ;  if  it  be 
a  wrong  one,  it  will  prove  that  you  blame  you  know 
not  what;  and  have  more  rea-sdn  to  inform  yoursdf, 
than  to  censure  others." 

This  disconcerted  him  still  more,  upon  which  The- 
rdor;is  proceeded ;  .Salvation  by  Christ  means,  not 
only  a  tieliverance  from  the  guilt,  but  also  from  the 


cavil  which  ia  altogether  ae  uiij)hi!ofioi)hical 
as  it  is  anti -evangelical. 

T/tcr.  We  digress  from  the  jwint.  My 
principal  objection  is  not  satisfied.  I  was 
observing,  that,  according  to  yoiu^  manner  of 
stating  (he  affair,  salvation  is  no  longer  free, 
but  founded  upon  works.  They  tire  the 
works  of  the  law,  thotigh  Christ  performs 
them.  To  maintain  that  \vc  are  justified 
by  these  works,  is  to  con  found  the  difference 
between  the  law  and  the  gospel. 

Asp.  Thoiigli  we  should  admit  your  pre- 
mises, we  cannot  acquiesce  in  your  conclu- 
sion. The  same  righteousness  by  which  we 
are  justified,  is  both  legtd  and  evjingelical  : 
Legal,  in  respect  to  Christ,  who  v,-as  made 
under  the  law,  tliat  he  might  obey  all  its 
commands  :  Evangelical,  in  respect  to  us, 
who  work  not  ourselves,  but  believe  in  the 
great  Fulfiller  of  all  righteousness.  This  is 
much  of  tlie  same  nature  with  that  other 
momentous  distinction  in  divinity — salva- 
tion is  freely  tdveti,  yet  dearly  bought  : 
Freely  given  with  regard  to  us ;  dearly 
bought  with  regard  to  Clirist.  So  we  are 
justified  by  \\orks,  if  you  look  forward  to 
our  Surety  ;  we  are  justified  without  works, 
if  you  cast  a  retrospective  view  on  our- 
selves. 

Theron  was  silent. — Aspasio,  after  a 
short  interval,  renewed  the  discourse.  I 
know  not  whether  my  friend  is  yielding  to 
my  arguments,  or  searching  after  objections; 
deliberating  uiioii  a  capitulation,  or  muster- 
ing his  forces  for  a  fiesh  sally.  However, 
let  me  take  this  opportuniiy  of  (hopping  a 
hint,  and  suggesting  a  caution. 

The  grand  reason  which  inclines  some 
people  to  reject  this  comfortable  doctrine 
lies  concealed,  if  not  in  an  absolute  disbe- 
lief of  our  Lord's  eternal  glory  and  God- 
head, yet  in  unsettled  apprehensions  of  it, 
or  an  habitual  inattention  to  it.  If  our 
Savioiu-  was  not  really  God,  as  some  writ- 
ers, unhappily  mistaking  themselves,  endea- 
vour to  persuade  the  world,  it  would  be  a 
reasonable  practice,  and  entirely  consistent 
with  their  scheme,  to  disavow  the  imputa- 
tion of  his  righteousness  :  Because,  upon 
such  a  supposition,  his  obedience  was  no 
more  than  bounden  duty  ;  in  which  there 
could  not  be  the  least  pretence  to  merit, 
and  which  could  be  profitable  to  none  but 
himself.  Whereas,  if  we  verily  believe  him 
to  be  the  incarnate  God,  hfs  submission  to 
the  law  becomes  an  act  of  \"oluiitary  hunii- 


power  of  sin.  "  He  gave  himself  for  us  that  he  might 
redeem  us  from  all  ini(|uity  ;  redeem  us  from  our 
vain  conversation,"  .as  well  as  deliver  us  from  the 
wrath  to  come.  Go  now,  Philoclcs,  and  tell  the 
world,  that  by  teaching  these  doctrines,  I  promote 
the  cause  of  licentiousness.  And  you  will  be  just  as 
rational,  just  a«  candid,  just  as  true,  as  if  you  .should 
allirni,  that  the  firemen,  by  playing  the  engine,  and 
pouring  in  water,  burnt  your  house  to  the  ground 
and  laid  your  furniture  in  ashes. 


258 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


liation  Which  circumstance,  together 
witli  the  iransceiKJeiit  dignity  of  his  per- 
son, render  his  ohedience,  not  meritorious 
only,  but  inexpressibly  and  infinitely  meri- 
torious. 

As  the  blood  of  Christ  is  called  God's 
"own  blood,"  (Acts  xx.  28.)  so  the  obe- 
dience of  Christ  was  performed  in  the  per- 
son of  that  adorable  Mediator,  "  wlio  is 
God  over  all,"  (Rom.  ix.  5.)  He  acted 
through  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  and 
suffered  death  at  the  last,  not  merely  as  a 
man,  but  as  God-man  ;  as  Jehovah  Jesus  ; 
Emmanuel.  Let  me  entreat  you  to  re- 
member, nay  let  me  entreat  you  never  to 
forget  this  all-important  article  of  our  faith. 
And  may  the  Spirit  of  wisdom  give  us  an 
understanding  to  know  the  weighty,  the 
extensive  influence,  of  so  glorious  a  truth  ! 

Ther.  Par  be  it  from  me  to  derogate  from 
the  dignity  of  our  Saviour's  person,  or  to 
depreciate  the  merits  of  his  mediatorial 
office.  Place  them  as  high  as  words  can  reach, 
exalt  them  as  far  as  thought  can  soar,  I 
stedfastly  believe  you  will  still  fall  short, 
immeasurably  short,  of  their  real  worth. 
But  this  consideration  seems  to  increase  the 
absurdity  of  your  notion  :  For  if  Christ's 
righteousness,  his  ver\-  righteousness  be  im- 
puted, then  the  true  believers  are  altogether 
as  righteous  is  Christ  himself;  whereas,  if 
you  maintain  that  his  righteousness  is  im- 
puted only  as  to  its  effects,  you  will  keep 
clear  of  this  rock. 

Asp.  This,  I  apprehend,  will  be  like 
keeping  clear  of  Scylla  only  to  fall  foul 
upon  Charybdis.  What  are  the  effects  of 
the  Mediator's  righteousness?  Pardon  of 
sin,  justification  of  our  jjersons,  and  the 
sanctification  of  our  nature.  Shall  we  say, 
these  effects,  these  benefits  are  imputed? 
To  talk  of  their  imputation,  I  think,  is  an 
affront  to  soimd  sense ;  as,  I  am  sure,  to  be 
put  off  with  their  imputation,  would  be  a 
fatal  disappointment  of  our  hopes.  All 
these  benefits  are,  not  imputed  but  impart- 
ed ;  they  are  not  reckoned  to  us,  but  are 
really  enjoyed  by  us  :  ours  they  are,  not 
barely  in  the  divine  estimation,  but  by  pro- 
per and  personal  possession. 

Yet  it  does  by  no  means  follow,  that  be- 
lievers are  altogether  as  righteous  as  Christ 
himself,  unless  you  can  prove,  that  to  be 
the  receiver  is,  in  all  respects,  the  same  as 
to  be  the  author  and  finisher.  (Heb,  xii.  2.) 
The  righteousness  of  Christ  arises  Avholly 
from  himself,  the  source  of  ours  subsists  in 
another.  Christ's  righteousness  is  origin- 
ally and  absolutely  his  own  ;  whereas  it  is 
made  ours  in  a  way  of  favour  and  gracious 
imputation.  Circumstances  these,  which 
create  a  material  difference,  which  yield 
room  for  a  vast  pre-eminence. 

Ther.  But  if  Christ's  perfect  obedience 
be    accounted  ours,   methinks    we    should 


have  no  more  need  of  pardonuig  merc}'  than 
Christ  himself. 

Asp.  Yes  ;  because,  before  this  \m]n\- 
tation,  we  were  sunk  in  guilt,  and  dead  in 
sins ;  because,  after  it,  we  are  defective  in 
our  duty,  and  in  many  things  offend. 

Tlier.  Does  not  this  doctrine  render  the 
intercession  of  our  Saviour  superfluous? 
What  occasion  have  they  for  an  }\d\ocate 
with  the  Father,  whose  righteousness  has 
neither  blemish  n.or  imperfection  ? 

Asp.  They  stand  in  need  of  an  advocate, 
first,  that  they  may  be  brought  home  to 
"the  Repairer  of  their  breaches,"  (Isaiah 
Iviii.  12,)  and  made  partakers  of  his  right- 
eousness by  a  living  faith  :  next,  that  their 
faith  may  be  preserved,  notwithstanding  all 
opposition,  stedfast  and  immoveable ;  or 
rather,  may  be  carried  on  victorious  and 
triumphant,  even  to  the  end. 

Ther.  You  say,  "  Christ  performed  all 
that  was  eonditionary ;"  then  he  repented 
for  us,  and  believed  for  us.  This  must  be 
admitted  in  pursuance  of  your  principles  : 
liut  this  is  so  wild  a  notion,  so  contrary  to 
reason  and  scripture,  that  to  mention  it  is 
to  refute  it. 

Asp.  Christ  performed  whatever  was  re- 
quired by  the  covenant  of  works,  both  be- 
fore it  was  violated,  and  after  it  had  been 
transgi'essed.  But  neither  rei>entance  nor 
faith  were  comprehended  in  this  institution. 
It  knew  nothing  of  the  one,  and  it  would 
not  admit  of  the  other.  It  was  not  there- 
fore necessary,  neither  indeed  was  it  possi- 
ble, for  oin-  spotless  and  divine  Lord  to  re- 
pent of  sin  or  believe  in  a  Saviour.  But 
he  did  unspeakably  more,  "  He  put  away 
sin  by  the  sacrifice  of  himself."  (Heb.  ix. 
26. )  He  is  himself  the  Saviour  of  all  the 
ends  of  the  earth  :  and  he  has  power  to 
bestow  that  blessed  Spirit,  which  worketh 
faith,  and  produceth  repentance. 

Ther.  However,  from  what  you  have 
advanced,  this  wiU  unavoidably  follow — 
That  a  man  is  to  be  justified  under  the 
character  of  a  notorious  transgressor  of  the 
law,  and  justified  under  the  character  of  a 
sinless  observer  of  the  law-  And  what  is 
this  but  a  glaring  inconsistency  ? 

Asp.  Not  at  all  inconsistent,  but  abso- 
lutely needful,  if  we  consider  those  dis- 
tinct branches  of  the  divine  law,  the  per- 
ceptive and  the  penal ;  both  which,  in  case 
of  guilt  already  contracted,  must  necessarily 
be  sarisfied.  Not  at  all  inconsistent,  but 
perfectly  harmonious,  if  we  take  in  the  two 
constituent  parts  of  justification — the  ac- 
quittance from  guilt  and  a  title  to  life. 
The  former  supposes  us  to  be  transgressors 
of  the  law  ;  and  such  the  highest  saints  in 
the  world  are.  The  latter  requires  us  to 
be  observers  of  the  law ;  and  such  must  the 
inheritors  of  heaven  be.  Much  less  is  this 
inconsistent,   if  we    consider   believers  in 


DIALOGUE    X. 


S59 


(lieir  personal  and  relative  oajmcity  -,  as  they 
are  in  themselves,  and  as  they  are  in  their 
Snrety.  Notorious  transgressors  in  them- 
selves, they  have  a  sinless  obedience  in 
Christ.  The  consciousness  of  that  will  be 
an  everlasting  motive  to  humility  ;  the  be- 
lief of  this,  an  inexhaustible  source  of  joy. 

All  this  is  no  more  inconsistent  than  the 
union  of  a  gloomy  contexture  and  a  light- 
some splendour,  in  those  detached  clouds 
wiiich  float  amidst  the  firmament.  In 
themselves,  they  are  a  louring  and  dark  col- 
lection of  vapours ;  by  the  impression  of 
the  sun-beams,  they  arc  fair  and  bright  as 
the  polished  silver. 

Ther.  After  all,  the  imputation  taught  in 
scripture  is  not  the  imputation  of  Christ's 
riiihteousness,  but  of  our  own  faith. 
Agreeably  to  the  apostles  express  declara- 
tion, "  Abraham  believed  God,  and  it  was 
imputed  to  him  for  righteousness."  (Rom. 
iv.  .-J.) 

A>tp.  This  objection  admits  the  thing  in 
dispute,  though  it  controverts  the  way  and 
manner  of  obtaining  it ;  admits  the  necessi- 
ty of  some  active,  positive  righteousness,  in 
order  to  our  justification.  In  this  particu- 
lar, I  am  glad  to  agree  with  my  Theron  ;  and 
in  this  particular,  I  believe  the  generality  of 
serious  people  agree  with  us  both.  When- 
ever their  consciences  are  awakened,  and 
seek  to  establish  the  hope  of  eternal  life, 
they  constantly  turn  their  eyes  to  some 
righteousness,  which  they  apprehend  may, 
either  in  whole  or  in  part,  answer  the  de- 
mands of  the  law.  Some  look  to  their  own 
sincere  obedience ;  others  call  in  to  their 
succour  works  of  supererogation.  My 
friend  would  assign  this  office  to  his  faith. 

Ther.  Is  this  a  proper  answer  to  my  ob- 
jection, Aspasio  ?  The  text  is  point-blank 
against  your  tenet.  You  do  wisely  there- 
fore not  to  confront,  but  to  elude  the  evi- 
dence. 

Anp.  I  did  not  intend  it  for  an  answer  ; 
oidy  as  an  occasional  observation,  which 
nevertheless  has  a  pretty  close  connexion 
with  the  subject.  Neither  would  I  use  so 
mean  a  subterfuge,  as  to  elude  an  argument 
which  I  could  not  confute.  If  my  friend 
had  allowed  me  Icisiu'e  to  explain  myself, 
this  should  have  been  my  reply. 

That  a  man  is  not  justified  by  works,  is 
a  position  most  clearly  demonstrated,  and  a 
doctrine  most  zealously  inculcated  by  St. 
Paul.  That  faith  is  a  work  *  exerted  by 
the  human  mind,  is  equally  certain.  Un- 
less, therefore,  we  would  render  the  apostle 
inconsistent  with  himself,  we  must  understand 
the    passage    in    a    qualified   sense.       Why 


•  So  it  is  called  by  Him,  who  knew  what  was  in 
man,  and  what  were  the  diflcremes of  things ;  "  This 
is  the  work  of  God,  tliat  ye  hflicye  on  him  whom  he 
hath  sent,''  John  vi.  29. 


should  we  iM3t  suffer  him  to  be  his  ovni  in- 
terpreter ?  \\\\y  should  we  not  take  the  nar- 
rative of  his  experience  for  a  comment  on 
his  doctrine  ?  He  declares,  that  the  ground 
of  his  own  comfort,  the  cause  of  his  own 
justification,  was  not  the  grace  of  faith,  but 
the  "  righteousness  which  is  of  God  by 
faith  ;"  Phil.  iii.  9  ;  not  the  act  of  believ- 
ing, but  that  grand  and  glorious  object  of  a 
sinner's  belief,  "  the  Loid  our  righteous- 
ness." 

Besides,  what  was  that  faith  of  Abraham 
to  which  the  apostle  refers,  and  which  he 
proposes  as  the  invariable  model  of  our  jus- 
tification ?  It  was  faith  in  the  promised 
seed — in  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous.*  It 
was  a  firm  persuasion,  that  this  illustrious 
person  should  spring  from  his  loins,  and  be 
the  author  of  forgiveness,  acceptance,  and 
salvation  to  himself,  and  to  a  multitude  of 
believers  numberless  as  the  stars  of  heaven. 
Let  us  tread  in  these  steps  of  the  holy  pa- 
triarch, and  we  shall  ascribe  little,  ascribe 
nothing  to  our  faith,  but  all  to  the  infinitely 
excellent  obedience  of  our  Redeemer. 

Ther.  Sure,  Aspasio,  you  will  not  pre- 
sume to  correct  inspiration  !  The  inspired 
writer  makes  no  mention  of  a  Redeemer's 
obedience.  He  says  expressly  and  positive- 
ly, "  It/'  that  is,  Abraham's  faith,  and  not 
any  thing  else,  "  was  counted  unto  him  for 
righteousness." 

Asp.  True,  Theron;  as  those  windows 
are  reckoned,  are  counted  the  lights  of  your 
house.  Why  ?  Because  they  illuminate  ? 
No  ;  but  because  they  afford  a  passage  to 
the  illuminating  rays.  Through  them,  the 
first  and  best  of  elements  is  diffused  into  all 
your  habitation.  So  "we  are  saved  by 
grace  through  faith,"  by  grace  imputing, 
through  faith  accepting,  the  righteousness 
of  Jesus  Christ.  Grace  is  the  magnificent 
source  of  this  nobler  light,  faith  is  the  means 
of  transmitting  it  into  all  the  faculties  of  the 
soul. 

When  oiu-  Lord  declares  to  the  diseased 
woman,  "  Thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole," 
Matth.  ix.  22,  how  are  we  to  understand 
his  words  ?  That  the  patient's  belief,  and 
not  the  agency  of  Christ,  wrought  the  cure  ? 
To  suppose  this,  would  be  extremely  dero- 
gatory to  the  power  of  our  great  Physician. 
And  if  we  ascribe  justification  to  the  act  of 
believing,  this  will  be  equally  derogatory  to 
the  obedience  of  our  great  Mediator.  In 
the  former  case,  Christ  and  his  omnipotent 
ojieration  were  all  in  all.  In  the  latter  case, 
Christ  and  his  infinite  merit  are  all  in  all. 
In  both  cases,  faith  is  the  only  eye  to  dis- 
cern, or  the  hand  to  receive,  the  soveieigu 
good. 

I  would  farther  observe,  that  faith  is  very 
particidarly  distinguished  from  the   righte- 


Compave  (len.  xv.  S,  C,  with  Gal.  ill.  Id. 


«r 


'J60 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


ousness  wliich  justifies.  We  read  of  the 
righteousness  which  is  by  faith,  whiclj  is  of 
faith.  Rom.  ix.  30.  Phil.  iii.  9.  This  form 
of  expression  puts  an  apparent  di/Terence 
l)et\veen  the  evangelical  faith  and  the  evan- 
gelical righteousness  ;  since  whatever  is  by 
another,  and  of  another,  cannot,  without  the 
greatest  violence  to  reason  and  language,  be 
reckoned  that  other. — If  faith  was  the  cause 
of  our  acceptance  with  God,  then  we  should 
be  justified  by  a  righteousness  which  is  con- 
fessedly imperfect :  For  who  has  ever  at- 
tained to  the  highest  degree  of  this  virtue  ? 
or  whose  faith  is  not  mixed  with  an  alloy 
of  unbelief?  If  faith  itself  was  the  matter 
of  our  justification,  I  see  not  how  boasting 
could  be  excluded  ;  how  the  law  could  be 
magnified ;  or  what  reason  the  apostle  could 
have  to  account  all  things,  but  the  righte- 
ousness of  Christ,  meaner  than  dross.  Phil, 
iii.  8. 

Say  not,  that  we  presume  to  correct  in- 
spiration :  we  only  interpret  the  inspired 
word  in  an  harmonious  consistency  with  it- 
self. This  sense  is  agreeable  to  the  pre- 
vailing doctrine,  and  to  the  current  language 
of  scripture.  To  the  prevailing  doctrine  ; 
wliich  is  "a  believing  in  him  who  justifieth 
the  ungodly."  Sift  and  examine  this  ex- 
pression, "  mm  who  justifieth."  You  will 
find  that  the  work  is  Christ's  ;  Christ's  and 
no  other's.  The  Holy  Ghost  assigns  not 
the  least  share,  not  so  much  as  a  co-efficien- 
cy, to  any  other  cause.  Faith,  therefore, 
if  it  presumes  to  arrogate  this  exalted  pre- 
rogative, or  if  it  pretends  to  the  least  part 
in  this  important  business,  is  a  sacrilegious 
usurper.  To  the  current  language  ;  as  when 
God  is  called  our  fear ;  Gen.  xxxi.  42,  53  ; 
our  hope  ;  Psalm  Ixxi.  5.  Jer.  xiv.  8  ;  our 
joy.  Psalm  xliii.  4.  In  these  places,  the 
act  is  undoubtedly  put  for  the  object :  So, 
in  the  passage  before  us,  the  act  must  de- 
note the  object  of  faith.  It  is  to  be  under- 
stood, not  absolutely,  but  as  some  divines 
speak, objectively,  instrumentally, relatively. 

Ther.  In  the  name  of  wonder,  what  can 
you  mean  by  this  heap  of  harsh  and  obscure 
expressions  ?  Let  me  entreat  you,  Aspasio, 
to  speak  in  your  own  style,  not  in  the  dialect 
of  Aquinas.  I  have  an  irreconcilable  aver- 
sion to  these  scholastic  terms :  They  are 
the  barbarisms  of  divinity  -.  I  know  but  one 
use  they  are  fitted  to  serve  ;  that  is,  to  per- 
plex and  puzzle  a  cause  you  cannot  main- 
tain :  Somewhat  like  the  liquor  which  a 
certain  fish,  when  closely  piu-sued,  is  said  to 
emit,  by  which  the  water  is  darkened,  and 
the  foe  eluded. 

Asp.  This,  Theron,  is  the  meaning  of  our 
uncouth  phrases  :  It  is  not  faith  itself  which 
justifies  ;  but  that  righteousness  which  faith 
continuiilly  views,  which  faith  delightfully 
apprehends,  and  on  which  it  finally  termi- 
nates. 


To  be  plainer  still ;  we  iffe  justified  Ly 
fiiith,  in  the  same  manner  as  we  are  fed  by 
the  hand,  or  as  we  are  said  to  drink  of  a 
cup.  Neither  the  hand  nor  the  cup  are 
the  cause  of  our  sustenance,  but  the  instru- 
ments; one  of  conveying  it,  the  other  of 
receiving  it.*  If  an  apostle  affirms,  "  We 
are  justified  by  faith  ;"  faith  itself  declares, 
"in  the  Lord  I  have  righteousness."  Put 
these  passages  together,  and  you  will  have 
the  true  sense  of  oiur  doctrine,  and  the  true 
doctrine  of  the  gospel. 

When  Themistocles  fled  from  the  malice 
of  his  own  countrymen,  what  recommended 
him  to  the  protection  of  king  Admetus  ?— 
Not  his  name ;  that  was  obnoxious. — Not 
his  actions ;  they  had  been  hostile. — But 
the  person  of  the  young  prince,  whom  the 
distressed  refugee  caught  up  in  his  arms  ; 
and  charged  with  these  credentials,  present- 
ed himself  to  the  royal  parent-f  So  faith 
recommends  to  God,  and  justifies  the  soul, 
not  for  itself  or  its  own  worth  ;  but  on  ac- 
count of  what  it  presents,  and  what  it 
pleads. 

Titer.  Is  not  this  a  fanciful  distinctio)), 
and  an  excessive  refinement  ?  Has  it  any 
foundation  in  scri])ture? 

Asp.  It  is  implied  in  almost  all  the  re- 
presentations of  Christ,  and  all  the  descrip- 
tions of  faith,  which  occur  in  the  sacred 
writings. 

Christ  is  likened  to  clothing;  and  be- 
lievers are  said  to  "  have  put  on  Christ," 
Gal.  iii.  27.  Now  it  cannot  be  the  act  of 
putting  on,  that  covers  our  bodies,  or  keeps 
them  warm  ;  but  the  commodious  garment 
which  is  v.ore — He  is  compared  to  bread  : 
"  I  am  the  bread  of  life."  John  vi.  35. 
Shall  we  say,  it  is  the  act  of  eating  which 
strengthens  the  constitution,  and  recruits 
our  spirits  ?  No  surely ;  but  the  loud  eaten 
and  digested-  Christ  was  typified  "oy  the 
"  cities  of  refuge,"  Num.  xxxv.  13,  and  sin- 
ners, by  the  obnoxiou.s  manslayer ;  who, 
if  he  fled  to  one  of  those  privileged  abodes, 


*  Tliough  1  am  entirely  of  Theroii's  mind,  and  can 
by  no  means  admire  our  scholastic  divines,  or  tlicir 
!o,!;ical  terms,  yet,  a  remark  from  Parseus,  couchc-ti 
in  this  style,  is  so  pertinent  to  the  purpose,  and  so 
full  an  explication  of  the  point,  that  it  would  be  an 
injury  to  the  cause,  not  to  make  it  a  part  of  my  notes. 
And  some  readers,  I  apprehend,  not  much  acquaint- 
ed with  this  old-fashioned  dialect,  may  be  well 
enough  pleased  to  view  a  specimen  ;  may  like  it,  as 
they  do  the  rust  of  a  medal,  merely  for  its  uncouth- 
ness  and  antiquity. 

"  Faith  justifies,"  says  ray  autlior,  "  not  effective- 
ly, as  working  an  habitual  righteousness  in  us,  not 
materially,  as  though  it  were  itself  the  constituent 
cause  of  our  justification  ;  but  it  justifieth  objective- 


ly, as  it  unprehendeth  Christ;  and  instrumentally,  as 
iplietn  his  righteousness." 
t'This,  saith  Plutarch,  was  a  custom  peculiar  to 


that  country;  \*as  reckoned  the  most  solemn  method 
of  supplicating  favour:  and  seldom  met  with  a 
repulse.  To  wliich  I  may  add,  it  is  a  custom  that 
Christians  should  imitate,  in  all  their  addresses  to 
the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  When 
thus  used,  thus  impiovctl,  it  will  never  fail  of  suc- 
cess. 


DIALOGUE  X. 


261 


and  there  remained,  was  safe.  No  prose- 
cution against  him  could  be  vahd.  He  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  the  avenger  of  blood. 
In  this  case,  was  it  the  bare  act  of  flying 
that  screened  the  criminal  ?  By  no  means. 
This  conveyed  him  to  a  place  of  security. 
But  the  place  itself  was  his  sanctuary,  his 
asylum,  his  safeg^iard. 

Faith  is  styled  a  receiving  of  Christ : 
"  As  many  as  received  him,  to  them  gave 
he  i)ower,"  or  granted  the  privilege,  "to  be- 
come the  sons  of  God."(Johni.  12.)  The  of- 
fice of  faith  is,  according  to  this  definition,  not 
to  contribute  its  quota,  much  less  to  deposit 
the  whole  sum,  but  to  take  and  use  the  inesti- 
mable gift. — Faith  is  called  "  a  looking  unto 
Jesus,  Heb.  xii.  2.  in  allusion,  I  suppose, 
to  the  famous  expedient  provided  for  the 
wounded  Israelites.  Num.  xxi.  8-  Our 
crucified  Lord  was  prefigured  by  the  bra- 
zen serpent ;  our  guilt  by  tlie  stings  of  the 
fiery  serpents  ;  and  our  faith  by  looking  to 
the  miraculous  remedy-  Did  the  healing 
power,  I  would  ask,  reside  in  the  mere 
act  of  viewing  ?  No  ;  but  in  the  emblem 
of  a  dying  Saviour,  elevated  on  the  pole, 
and  ordained  for  the  recovery  of  the  people. 
Here  all  the  efficacy  was  lodged.  From 
hence  it  was  all  derived.  Tiie  action  of 
the  eye,  like  the  office  of  faith,  was  only  to 
fetch  home,  and  apply  the  sanative  virtue. 

Once  more :  faith  is  represented,  as 
"  Liying  hold"  on  God  our  Saviour ;  Isa. 
xxvii.  b ;  "  leaning"  upon  our  Beloved, 
Cant  viii.  5  ;  "cleaving"  to  the  Lord,  Acts 
xi.  23.  Please  to  take  notice  of  yonder 
vine.  Its  shoots  are  weak,  and  it-i  branches 
are  flimsy.  Being  absolutely  unable  to  sup- 
port themselves,  they  are  furnished  with  a 
very  remarkable  set  of  claspers ;  which, 
like  so  many  fingers,  lay  hold  on  the  ]icgs 
of  the  wall,  or  fasten  themselves  to  the  i)oles 
within  their  reach.  Without  such  a  pro- 
vision, the  boughs  must  lie  prostrate  on  the 
ground,  .and  be  exposed  to  the  insults  of 
every  foot;  whereas,  by  this  kind  coiitri- 
vance  of  nature,  so  creejiing  a  plant  will 
climb  into  the  air  and  enjoy  the  breeze  ;  so 
feeble  a  ))lant  will  stand  out  the  winter, 
and  dt'fy  the  storms. — An  instructive  ad- 
monition to  sinners  ;  and  no  contemptible 
illustration  of  faith,  especially  in  its  i)rinci- 
pal  and  most  distinguishing  employ.  Thus 
let  us  apprehend  tlie  blessed  Jesus,  hold  us 
fast  by  our  adored  Redeemer,  cleave  to  his 
ineffable  worthiness,  as  those  twining  ten- 
drils, by  repeated  circumvolutions,  adhere 
to  their  sid)stanti;d  supjjorters  ;  then  shall 
we  rise,  by  "  merits  not  our  own,"  from 
the  most  abject  and  miserable  condition, 
to  a  state  of  everlasting  honour  and  joy- 

7'//(?-.  Some  people,  I  belie\e,  would 
tianlly  forbear  smiling  at  tiie  pcculiarily  of 
your  diction,  and  might  be  inclined  to  call 
your  discourse  canting,  rather  than   reason- 


ing. For  my  own  part,  I  nmst  acknow- 
ledge, that  as  all  your  peculiar  phrases  are 
derived  from  the  scriptures,  I  hear  them 
with  reverence,  rather  than  any  disposition 
to  sneer.  Was  my  friend  delivering  a  La- 
tin oration,  itwoidd  be  a  sufficient  warrant 
for  any  of  his  expressions  to  prove  that 
they  came  from  the  Ciceronian  mint :  And 
will  it  not  be,  at  least,  an  equally  sufficient 
authority  for  any  modes  of  speech  used  in 
a  theological  essay,  to  allege  that  they  bear 
the  stamp  of  the  Bible  ? 

Though  I  make  no  objection  to  your 
language,  I  have  yet  another  scruple  with 
regard  to  your  doctrine — Do  the  ancient 
fathers  adopt  or  inculcate  thisimputed right- 
eousness ?  If  it  was  so  imjwrtant  an  arti- 
cle of  our  faith,  surely  it  could  not  be 
unknown  in  those  early  ages  which  were  so 
near  the  apostolical  fountain.  It  would 
not  have  been  omitted  by  those  zealous 
preachers,  who  chose  to  endure  all  the  ri- 
gours of  persecution  rather  than  renounce 
their  holy  profession. 

Asp.  I  thmk  it  were  sufficient  to  answer 
this  question  by  asking  another.  Do  the 
apostles,  does  the  holy  Spirit  of  God  speak- 
ing in  scripture,  inculcate  this  doctrine,  or 
display  this  privilege  ?  If  so,  we  need  not 
be  very  solicitous  for  any  farther  authority. 
"  To  the  law  and  to  the  testimony,"  (Isa. 
viii.  20.)  is  our  grand,  our  final  appeal. 
Amidst  all  the  darkness  and  uncertainty, 
which  evidently  nm  through  the  writings 
of  the  best  of  men,  this  is  our  unspeakable 
happiness,  that  "  we  have  a  more  sure  word 
of  prophecy,  to  which  we  do  well  to  take 
heed."  (2  Pet.  i.  19.) 

However,  to  be  a  little  more  particuhu- : 
It  cannot  be  expected  that  we  should  find 
many  passages  in  those  pious  authors,  very 
strong  and  very  explicit  upon  the  point ; 
because  in  their  days  it  was  not  so  professedly 
opposed,  and  therefore  could  not  be  so  ex- 
actly discussed  as  in  the  latter  ages.  Never- 
theless, they  have  left  enough  behind  them 
to  avouch  the  substance  of  what  we  assert, 
"  That  a  man  is  not  justified  by  any  works, 
duties;  or  righteousness  of  his  own,  but 
only  by  faith  in  Jesus  Chiist. "  I  cannot 
say  that  I  have  charged  my  memory  with 
their  very  words,  and  for  that  reason  must 
not  attempt  at  jjresent  to  make  any  citation. 
But,  when  a  proper  opportunity  offers,  and 
their  works  are  before  me,  I  may  possibly 
produce  a  few  of  their  testimonies. 

In  the  mean  time,  I  can  mention  a  set  of 
writers,  whose  tiltestation  will,  I  imagine, 
cany  as  much  wi'igiit  with  my  friend,  as 
the  united  voice  of  the  (ireek  and  Latin 
fathers. 

77ifr.  Who  are  they  ? 

Asp.  Our  venerable  reformers.  The  ho- 
milies composed  by  those  excellent  divines, 
arc  as  express  to  my  purpose  as   they  are 


262 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


iinexccptionjible  in  their  evidence.  This 
is  their  language :  "  The  true  understand- 
ing of  this  doctrine,  We  be  justified  freely 
by  faith  without  works,  is  not,  that  this  our 
act  to  believe,  or  this  our  faith  in  Christ, 
doth  justify  us,  for  that  were  to  count  our- 
selves to  be  justified  by  some  act  or  A'irtue 
that  is  within  ourselves.  But  the  true 
meaning  thereof  is,  that  although  we  hear 
God's  word,  and  believe  it ;  although  we 
have  hope  and  faith,  charity  and  repentance, 
and  do  never  so  many  good  works ;  yet  we 
must  renounce  the  merit  of  all  our  virtues 
and  good  deeds,  as  things  that  be  far  too 
weak  and  insufficient  to  deserve  remission 
of  sin,  and  our  justiiication.  We  must  trust 
only  in  God's  mercy,  and  that  sacrifice  which 
our  High  Priest  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ, 
the  Son  of  God,  offered  for  us  upon  the 
cross." 

The  homily  su])joins  a  very  opposite  il- 
lustration, which  may  conclude  our  discourse 
with  perfect  propriety,  and  I  hope  with 
equal  efficacy.  "  So  that  as  St-  John  Bap- 
tist, although  he  were  never  so  virtuous  and 
godly  a  man,  yet  in  the  matter  of  forgiving 
sin,  he  did  put  the  people  from  him,  and 
appoint  them  unto  Christ,  saying  thus  unto 
them,  "  Behold  !"  yonder  is  the  "  Laml)  of 
God,  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the 
world,"  even  so,  as  great  and  as  godly  a 
virtue  as  the  lively  faith  is,  yet  it  putteth 
us  from  itself,  andremitteth  us  unto  Christ, 
for  to  have  only  by  him  remission  of  sins, 
or  justification.  So  that  our  faith  in  Christ, 
as  it  were,  saith  unto  us  thus,  It  is  not  that 
I  take  away  your  sins,  but  it  is  Christ  only? 
and  to  him  only  I  send  you  for  that  purpose, 
forsaking  therein  all  your  good  words, 
thoughts,  and  works.  And  only  putting 
your  trust  in  C'hrist."'* 

Ther.  If  there  be  any  tolerable  sense  of 
the  notion  under  debate,  I  think  it  must  be 
imderstood  as  follows: — Christ's  perform- 
ance of  the  lawof  his  mediation,  or,  in  other 
words,  his  unsinning  obedience  to  the  mo- 
ral law,  and  the  spotless  sacrifice  of  him- 
self to  the  vindictive  justice  of  God  ;  these 
are  the  only  valuable  considerations  on  ac- 
count of  which  the  gracious  God  restores 
guilty  creatures  to  a  state  of  acceptance  with 
his  divine  majesty. 

Asp.  I  am  far  from  denying  your  proposi- 
tion :  I  rejoice  in  the  propriety  of  my  The- 
ron's  sentiments.  May  his  faith,  which  is 
thus  far  advanced,  be  carried  on  by  grace, 
till  it  is  completed  in  glory  !  That  unsin- 
ning obedience,  and  that  spotless  sacrifice, 
are  indeed  the  oidy  valuable,  they  are  also 
the  truly,  or  rather  the  infinitely  valualile 
consideration,  which  has  fully  merited  foi 
us  the  remission  of  sins,  and  the  eiijoyment 
of  life  ;  and  this  not  only  from  the  gracious, 


•  See  the  scioiul  part  of  tlie  Homily  on  Salvation. 


but  even  from  the  just,  the  faithful,  the 
righteous  God. 

But  then,  they  must  be  imputed,  in  or- 
der to  furnish  us  with  a  claim,  and  invest 
us  with  a  right  to  the  purchased  privileges. 
Suppose  them  not  imputed,  and  what  be- 
comes of  our  interest  in  them  ?  They  are 
like  a  medicine  prepared  but  not  applied. 
Suppose  them  imputed,  and  they  lay  a  firm, 
an  apparent,  a  rational  foimdation,  for  every 
pleasing  hope,  and  for  every  heavenly  blessing. 

Ther.  I  fear  I  have  acknoAvledged  too 
much. — My  thoughts  fluctuate.  My  mind 
is  unsettled.  I  would  not  withstand  the 
truth,  I  would  uot  disbelieve  any  doctrine 
of  the  gospel.  Yet,  what  shall  I  say? 
While  I  listen  to  your  reasoning,  I  am  half 
a  convert.  When  I  recollect  the  objections, 
I  revert  to  my  first  opinion. 

Of  this,  however,  I  am  convinced,  that 
human  righteousness  is  insufficient  for  our 
justification.  Here  your  arguments  have 
carried  their  point.  I  shall  henceforth  place 
my  hopes  of  everlasting  happiness,  not  upon 
any  works  of  my  own,  but  upon  the  free- 
goodness  and  unbounded  beneficence  of 
the  Supreme  Being,  pursuant  to  that  max- 
im of  Scripture,  "  The  gift  of  God  is  eter- 
nal life." 

Asp.  You  do  right,  Theron,  to  expect 
eternal  life,  as  the  gift  of  God,  not  as  the 
wages  of  your  own  obediential  service. 
But  be  pleased  to  remember,  that  all  the 
gifts  of  grace,  though  perfectly  free  to  sin- 
ners, are  founded  upon  a  grand  and  ines- 
timable price  paid  by  their  Saviour.  Are 
they  entirely  absolved  from  guilt  ?  It  is  be- 
cause Christ  gave  his  life  for  their  ransom  ? 
Are  they  heard  M'ith  acceptance  when  they 
pray  ?  It  is  because  their  exalted  High 
Priest  intercedes  in  their  behalf. — Are  they 
completely  justified,  and  instated  in  endless 
bliss  ?  It  is  because  their  Redeemer's  con- 
summate obedience  is  the  glorious  equiva- 
lent for   this  and  every  other    blessing 

Therefore,  when  you  mention  eternal  life 
as  the  gift  of  God,  you  should  not  forget 
to  add  with  the  holy  a])ostle,  "  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  (Rom.  vi.  20.) 
Well,  my  Theron,  what  say  you  farther  ? 
Is  your  quiver  emptied  ?  Are  your  scruples 
satisfied  ?  May  I  interpret  this  silence  as 
an  act  of  assent  ? 

Ther.  Observe  how  the  ranunculuses  on 
yonder  gay  j)arterre  have  contracted  their 
spreading  tufts,  and  the  tulips  have  closed 
their  expanded  cups,  while  all  the  neigh  ■ 
bouring  flowers  have  shut  their  ivoiy  doors, 
or  drawn  their  velvet  curtains.  Such  is  the 
state  of  my  thoughts.  They  are  all  bent 
inwards,  collected  in  themselves,  and  jion- 
dering  upon  your  discourse,  which  has  in- 
clined WW.,  before  I  was  aware,  to  contem- 
jilate  rather  than  talk.  You  will  excuse 
my  thoughtfulness,  Aspasio;  or,  if  it  wants 


DIALOGUE   XI. 


an  apology,  you  mtist  bliimc  youiself,  for, 
had  your  reasons  been  less  cogent,  my  at- 
tention had  been  more  diseiii.^dtrid. 

Aap.  My  dear  Tlieron,  I  shall  only  wish, 
in  allusion  to  your  own  simile,  and  in  the 
language  of  the  best  of  books,  that  these 
truths  may  "  distil  as  the  dew,"  upon  your 
mind,  (Deut.  xxxii.  2,)  and  "lie  all  night 
upon  your  brajiches."  (Job  xxix.  1 9. )  This, 
I  am  persuaded,  is  the  only  way  to  have  all 
your  comforts  "green  before  the  sun,"  and 
«U  your  virtues  "  flourish  as  an  herb  :" 
whereas,  under  the  iiitkien(.-«  of  any  other 
faith,  I  am  afraid  they  will  be  as  the  garden 
that  is  visited  with  a  drought,  or  as  the 
leaves  that  are  smitten  with  a  blast. 

7yier.  I  shall  attentively  consider,  both 
your  doctrine,  and  your  arguments  ;  which, 
that  I  may  execute  with  more  e;i.se,  and  to 
better  purpose,  be  pleased  to  sum  u]),  ia  a 
few  words,  the  subst^mce  of  what  has  j)ass- 
ed.  This  done,  it  will  be  time  to  with- 
draw. The  tlowers,  yon  see,  are  our  moni- 
tors. They  have  folded  up  their  robes,  and 
veiled  their  beauties  i  A  custom  which 
they  seldom  use  till  the  rising  damps  ren- 
der it  unsafe  for  their  master  to  be  among 
them,  and  the  surrounding  gloom  renders  it 
difficult  for  his  eye  to  distinguish  them. 

Asp.  You  could  not  oblige  me  more, 
than  by  giving  me  such  a  conmiand.  We 
tnist  for  salvation, 

Not  on  our  own  external  duties.  This 
were  to  build  our  house  upon  the  sand ; 
which,  when  the  rains  descend,  when  the 
torrents  pour,  when  the  winds  blow  with 
tempestuous  \  iolence,  will  certainly  fall,  and 
buiy  the  builder,  with  all  his  vain  hopes,  in 
irretrievable  ruiu. 

Not  on  the  sincerity  of  our  hearts.  This, 
if  opposed  to  Christ,  and  made  the  rival  of 
his  merits,  will  be  a  "  despised  broken 
idol."  Despised  by  the  infinitely  sublime 
and  majestic  Ruler  of  the  world.  Broken, 
with  regard  to  the  stress  we  lay,  or  the  con- 
fidence we  repose,  on  so  deceitful  a  prop. 
No  more  able  to  stand  in  the  judgment  of 
the  great  day,  than  Dagon  was  able  to 
maintain  his  station  before  the  ark  of  the 
Lord  God  of  Hosts.   (1  Sam.  v.  3,  4.) 

Not  upon  Old'  faith.  This  is  often  weak, 
as  the  rickety  child  :  sometimes  quite  faint, 
like  a  person  in  a  deep  swoon  ;  always  im- 
perfect, like  every  other  performance  of 
ours.  Alas  !  to  what  aillicting  fears,  to 
what  grievous  despondency  should  I,  for 
my  pajt,  be  perpetually  liable,  if  my  own 
faith  was  the  ground  of  my  justification  ? 
Blessed  be  the  Father  of  mercies  !  we  have 
a  surer  supjiort.  Not  upon  faith,  not  upon 
faith,  but  ui)on  its  gracious  Author,  and 
gloiions  object,  is  the  hope  of  Israel  found- 
ed.     Yet, 

Not  ujjon  our  Lord's  righteousness,  con- 
sidered only  as  juissive ;  but   upon   his  ac- 


263 

tive  and  passive  obedience  united:  all  that 
he  did  in  conformity  to  the  commands  of 
the  law,  and  all  that  he  suffered,  in  submis- 
sion to  its  penalty.  Both  which,  immense- 
ly dignified  by  his  divine  nature,  are  a 
basis  for  our  faith  which  nothing  can  shake, 
are  a  fomidation  for  our  afhance,  which  can 
never  be  removed.  Nothing  else,  in  any 
creature,  or  in  all  worlds,  could  expiate  the 
least  sin.  This  not  only  expiates  all  sin, 
but  gives  a  title  to  every  blessing — to  the 
blessings  of  grace  and  of  glory,  of  evange- 
lical holiness  and  everlasting  happiness. 


DIALOGUE   XI. 

Asp.  I  HAVE  often  purposed,  and  as  often 
forgot,  to  lU'^k  my  Theron  what  picture  he 
was  so  attentively  surveying,  when  I  stole 
unperceived  upon  him  in  this  favourite  ar- 
bour.* 

Ther.  I  was  indulging  a  pensive  pleasure, 
in  viewing  the  ruins  and  contemplating  the 
fate  of  Babylon — that  renowned  and  opu- 
lent city  !  once  the  residence  of  the  Assy- 
rian monarchs,  and  capital  of  one  of  the 
gi-eatest  empires  in  the  woi'ld.  The  draught 
I  held  in  my  hand  represented  some  of  its 
remains.  And  indeed  this  was  the  veiy 
last  subject  which  employed  my  thoughts. 
In  the  morning  my  son  brought  me  his  ob- 
servations upon  the  scene,  which  I  have  just 
now  been  revising. 

For  I  frequently  set  him  to  exercise 
his  judgment  or  display  his  fancy  on  re- 
markable passages  which  occur  in  history 
He  was  lately  commissioned  to  determine  a 
controversy  between  the  illustiious  Leoni- 
das  and  the  less  celebrated  P;edaretus. 
This  was  the  point  in  debate. — Which  of 
them  discovered  the  truest  generosity  of 
spirit,  and  the  most  heroic  love  of  their  coun- 
try ?  The  former,  who  \\illingly  sacrificed 
his  life  in  its  defence  ?  or  the  latter,  who, 
when  he  was  candidate  for  a  seat  among 
the  three  hundred,  and  lost  his  election, 
instead  of  being  chagrined  or  dissatisfied, 
went  home,  unfeignedly  rejoicing,  "  that 
there  were  found  in  Sjiarta,  three  hundred 
men,  more  worthy  than  himself  ?"  The  task 
of  this  day  was,  to  give  a  descriptive  pic- 
ture of  those  wonderful  ruins. 

Agp.  Pray  let  me  have  the  pleasure  of 
hearing  the  young  gentleman's  performance. 

Thcr.  It  will  be  too  long,  and  too  j)uer- 
ile  ;  tire  your  patience,  and  offend  your 
taste. 

Asp.  I  do  not  use  to  make  either  of 
these  complaints,  when  I  am  entertained 
with  Theron's  compositions  j  and,  as  the 
son  has  so  much  of  his  father's  genius,    I 

*  See  Dialogue  V. 


264 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


am  not  at  uU  apprehensive  of  any  such  dis- 
appointment. We  have  a  most  agreeable 
situation,  and  more  than  an  hour's  leisure  : 
I  must  therefore  repeat  my  request. 

Ther.  It  is  true,  I  have  retouched  the 
sketch,  wliich  may  render  it  somewhat  more 
tolerable.  And  since  you  persist  in  your 
demand,  I  will  read  the  paper.  Only  de- 
sii'ing  some  allowance  for  a  little  luxuriancy 
of  imagination,  which,  in  young  writers  it 
may  be  advisable  to  indulge  rather  than 
repress,  as  age  and  judgment  will  probably 
come  with  the  pruning  knife,  and  make  the 
proper  retrenchments.  I  must  farther  ob- 
serve, that  contrary  to  the  custom  which 
prevails  in  om-  schools,  I  generally  choose 
to  have  him  express  his  sentiments  in  En- 
glish ;  because  it  is  in  this  language  he 
must  communicate  his  o\vn,  and  become 
acquainted  with  the  ideas  of  others ;  be- 
cause, to  acquire  some  good  degree  of  pro- 
priety and  fluency  in  this  his  native  tongue, 
will  be  incomparably  more  serviceable,  than 
to  speak  Latin  with  the  Tarentine  elegance, 
or  to  write  it  with  the  Ciceronian  copious- 
ness. 

Is  this  Babylon  ?  the  glory  of  kingdoms  ! 
the  beauty  of  the  Chaldean  excellency ! 

Where  once  the  gorgeous  east,  with  richest  hand, 
Shower'd  on  her  Kings  barbaric  pearl  and  gold. 

How  is  she  fallen  !  fallen  from  the  height 
of  magnificence  into  the  abyss  of  confusion ! 
What  was  once  the  object  of  universal  ad- 
miration, is  now  a  spectacle  of  astonish- 
ment and  horror. 

The  palace,  where  majesty  sat  enthron- 
ed, like  some  terrestrial  deity,  is  a  heap  of 
rubbish  ;  no  longer  distinguished  by  an  air 
of  superior  elegance,  but  by  stronger  and 
more  melancholy  marks  of  departed  dignity.* 
WTiere  the  nobles  of  that  sumptuous  court 
trailed  along  the  marble  pavement  their 
robes  of  purple  and  embroidery,  there  the 
crested  snake  hisses,  or  the  fierce  envenom- 
ed adder  glides. 

How  changed  is  the  hospitable  hall,  and 
how  disgraced  the  room  of  state  !  The  first 
afforded  a  constant  and  cordial  reception  to 
the  welcome  guests  ;  in  the  last  the  gi-eat 
king  gave  audience  to  his  eritigiiig,  his  ador- 
ing vassals.  Now  tliorns  overrun  the 
circumference,  and  "  desolation  sits  in  the 
threshold  of  them  both  !"  Where  are  the 
roofs  of  ivory,  painted  v.ith  vermillion  and 
adorned  with  sculpture  ?  the  radiant  roofs, 
whose  lamps  of  burnished  silver,  pendent 


in  many  a  blazing  row,  yielded  light  as  from 
another  sky?  Swept  from  their  founda- 
tions, they  lie  clotted  with  defiling  dirt,  or 
clasped  with  tangling  briers.  Music  no 
longer  pours  her  harmony  through  the  spa- 
cious and  extended  apartment ;  but  the 
night-owl,  nestling  in  some  cleft  of  the 
ruins,  screams  her  harsh  and  portentous  dis- 
sonance. Joy  no  longer  leads  up  the 
sprightly  dance  amidst  the  lustre  of  that  ar- 
tificial day ;  but  the  solitary  bat  flits  in  si- 
lent circles,  or  flaps  her  sooty  wngs.  All 
those  gay  deUghts,  let  the  sons  of  sensuality 
hear  the  tale,  and  take  warning  from  the 
catastrophe  ! — all  those  gay  delights  are  ex- 
tinguished, like  one  of  their  feeblest  tapers, 
which,  having  illuminated  for  a  while  the 
festive  assembly,  shone  itself  to  the  edges 
of  the  exhausted  socket,  and,  in  a  moment 
flashed  into  stench  and  darkness. 

The  walls,  though  cemented  with  bitu- 
men,* and  consolidated  into  the  firmness 
of  a  flint,  are  become  like  the  broken  bub- 
ble. There  was  a  time  when  the  inhabi- 
tants, confiding  in  the  strength  of  their  bul- 
warks and  the  multitude  of  their  towers, 
looked  down  with  fearless  disdain  on  the 
army  of  besiegers.  But  now  the  prophet's 
threatening  is  most  terribly  fulfilled :  "  The 
fortress  of  the  high  fort  of  thy  walls  hath 
he  brought  down,  laid  low,  and  brought  to 
the  ground,  even  to  the  dust,"  Isa.  xxv.  12. 
— Where  are  the  gates,  the  grand  and  glit- 
tering gates,t  which  admitted  the  triumph- 
ant hosts,  or  poiu-ed  forth  their  numerous 
legions  against  the  day  of  battle  ?  Not  one 
trace  remains  to  tell  the  inquisitive  stran- 
ger, "  Here  the  spacious  avenues  opened  ; 
here  the  massy  portals  rose.  Commodious 
walks,  in  which  the  clustering  merchants 
raised  the  busy  hum,  and  planned  the  schemes 
of  commerce ;  ample  streets,  in  which  in- 
dustry drove  the  toiling  car,  or  smote  the 
sounding  anvil,  are  shrouded  wth  matted 
grass,  or  buried  beneath  the  rankest  weeds. 
Silence,  in  both  places,  a  sullen  silence 
reigns  ;  and  inactivity,  a  death-like  inacti- 
vity slumbers. 

What  is  become  of  those  hanging  gar- 
dens, which,  for  curious  contrivance  and 
stupendous  workmanship  were  never  equal- 
led in  any  nation  under  heaven  ?  Terraces 
that  overlooked  the  tallest  houses !  Parterres 
exalted  to  the  clouds,  and  opening  their 
flowery  beauties  in  that  strange  region ! 
Groves,  whose  veiy  roots  were  higher  than 


•  The  walls  were  built  of  brick,  snd  cemented  with 
a  glutinous  kind  of  slime,   wliich  binds  more  firmly 


"  Bcnj.imui,  a  .lew  of  Tiidcla,   in  his  Itinerary,    than  any  moriar,  and  soon  grows  harder  than  the 
written  a'jout    ihe  y<?ir  of  our  Lord  1170,  tells  us,  ;  bricks  or  stones  themselves. 

■'  I  Int  lie  w:is  uiK.n  Iheplnrc  where  th's city  former-  f  There  were  no  less  than  an  hundred  gates,  all  of 
lysioii*,  and  toiind  it  wholly  (;c>solated  and  destroy-  solid  brass.  Hence  it  is,  that  when  Jehovah  pro- 
ed.  Only  some  rums  of  i\cbuclia<lnezziir"siialace  were  ^  mises  to  make  f'vrus  master  of  Babylon,  bespeaks 
still  re:namiii(.' .  but  nien  were  afraid  tojio  neartlicm,  '  in  this  very  remarkable  and  particularizing  manner, 
Uv  reason  ol  Ihc  many  erpep.ls  and  scorpions  that  ••  I  will  hre.ik  in  pieces  before  thee  the  gates  of  brass," 
wiif  th^'n  in  the  place."  ,  j^a  jj,    '> 


DIALOGUE  XI. 


265 


the  tops  of  the  loftiest  trees  ! — they  are 
now  smitten  by  a  dreadful  blast.  Their 
beauty  is  decayed,  like  u  withered  leaf. 
Their  verj'  being  is  gone,  "  like  the  ehalf 
of  the  summer  threshing  floors,  whicli  the 
wind  carrieth  away,  and  its  place  is  nowhere 
found."  Dan.  ii.  35.  What  was  once  the 
favourite  retreat  of  a  queen,  and  the  admi- 
ration of  the  whole  world,  is  now  a  nest  for 
poisonous  reptiles,  and  a  kennel  for  raven- 
ous beasts. — The  traveller,  instead  of  ex- 
patiating with  delight  where  this  pensile 
paradise  flourished,  is  struck  with  horror, 
keeps  at  a  trembling  distance,  and,  surveying 
the  rueful  spot,  cries  out,  "  Righteous  art 
thou,  O  Lord,  and  tnie  su-e  thy  judgments  !" 

Here  stands  an  obelisk,  maimed  by  the 
stroke  of  revolving  years,  like  a  inountJiin- 
oak  shattered  by  the  flaming  bolt.  An- 
other, idl  unliinged  and  quite  disjointed, 
seems  to  tremble  before  every  blast  that 
blows.  There  the  pyramid,*  firm  as  the 
solid  rock,  and  stable,  one  would  have 
thought,  as  the  everlasting  hills,  wrenched 
from  its  mighty  base,  is  tumbled  headlong 
in  enormous  ruin,  and  has  crushed  many  a 
structiure  by  its  fall. — See  yonder  the  tri- 
um]>h!d  arch,  which  exhibited  through  its 
extensive  and  beautiful  bend  an  advanta- 
geous view  of  the  firmament.  It  was  once 
the  graceful  memorial  of  some  celebrated 
victory  ;  it  is  now  converted  into  a  trophy 
of  a  very  difl'erent  kind.  Just  retaining 
two  uneven,  battered,  ragged  stumps,  it 
serves  to  recognise  the  destructive  ravages 
of  time.  Spires  that  pierced  the  clouds, 
and  shot  into  the  skies,  are  levelled  with 
tlie  trodden  soil.  On  pinnacles,  to  which 
the  strong-winged  bird  could  hardly  soar, 
the  grovelling  worm  crawls,  and  the  sordid 
snail  leaves  her  slimy  tract.  Baths  that 
contained  the  translucent  wave,  and  were 
so  often  perfumed  with  odoriferous  un- 
guents, are  choaked  with  filth  :  ihe  grand 
colonnade  that  surrounded  them  is  shiver- 
ed to  pieces,  and  the  elevated  dome  that 
covered  them  is  dashed  to  the  ground. 
The  public  aqueducts,  whidi  conveyed 
cleanliness  and  health  along  their  crystal 
currents,  are  degenerated  into  a  stagnating 
lake,  while  croaking  vermin  swai'm  among 
the  weeds,  and  noisome  exhalations  steam 
from  the  mire. 

vVugust  and  stately  temples  that  seemed 
to  affect  the  neighbourhood  of  heaven,-j- 
are  sunk  to  the  very  dust. — Who  can  point 


•  Strabo  calls  the  temple  of  Bclus  a  I'yramid, 
lib.  15. 

t  A  tower  ill  the  temple  of  Bclus,  and  ilcilicaled  to 
his  worship,  was  very  hi,>;h.  It  consisted  of  eight 
piles  of  building  erected  one  above  another.  It  arose 
to  the  elevation  of  six  luimlrcd  feet  perpendicular, 
and  is  th(>ii;;lit,  by  the  loirncd  Hocliart,  to  have  been 
part  of  til  It  suiicib  work  which  w.is  l)i'/;\in  wluii  the 
whi'lc  earth  was  of  one  lani;un;',o;  but  nii«arricd,  or 
rather  was  providentiallv  ilcfi.itcd,  by  the  confusion 
o   tongurs.    In  this  structure,  there  were  doubtless 


the  spot  where  the  consecrated  victim 
bled,  or  the  sacred  fire  glowed  ?  where  the 
sceptcred  image  lifted  its  majestic  head, 
or  the  venerating  crowds  bowed  the  sup- 
pliant knee  ?"  Degrading  are  those  splen- 
did vanities,  and  cast  (according  to  the  de- 
nunciation of  the  sacredoracles)  "to  the  bats 
and  to  the  moles."  Isa.  ii.  20.  All  is  low  ; 
low  as  the  spurious  dignity  of  the  idols  they 
complimented;  low  "as  the  straw  that  is 
trodden  down  for  the  dunghiU,"  Isa.  xxv.  10. 

Sepulchres,  the  once  venerable  reposito- 
ries of  the  dead,  awful  mansions  destined 
to  everlasting  concealment,  are  cleft  and 
rent  asunder.  They  disclose  the  horrid  se- 
crets of  the  pit,  and  frightfully  yawn  upon 
the  blasted  day.  Possibly  some  ravenous 
creature  liu-ks  within,  that  has  already  rifled 
the  tomb  of  its  hero,  given  the  putrid  bones 
a  new  grave,  and  waits  only  for  the  ap- 
proach of  night  to  repeat  his  funeral  dirge 
in  yells.  Inscriptions,  designed  to  perpe- 
tuate some  illustrious  character,  or  eter- 
nize some  heroic  deed,  are  blended  in  the 
promiscuous  mass.  In  vain  would  the  pry- 
ing antiquary  search  for  a  legible  or  consis- 
tent sentence  ;  in  vain  attempt  to  find  the 
memorable  names  of  a  Nebuchadnezzar  or 
a  Ninirod.  These,  though  engraven  on 
plates  of  brass,  or  cut  in  blocks  of  marble, 
are  lost  amidst  the  stupendous  lumber,  as 
prints  on  the  unsteady  sand  are  eflfaced  when 
retiuTiing  tides  smooth  the  furrowed  beach. 

Here  and  there  a  straggling  cypress  rises, 
as  it  were,  wth  funereal  solemnity  amidst 
the  waste,  f  Somewhat  like  the  black 
plumes  nodding  over  the  mournful  hearse, 
they  augment  the  sadness  of  the  scene,  and 
throw  a  deeper  horror  on  all  below-  No 
human  voice  is  heard,  nor  human  face  seen, 
amidst  these  desolated  heaps  ;  too  dreary 
even  for  the  roam  of  hoary  hermit,  or  the 
cell  of  gloomy  monk.  Abandoned  they  are, 
totally  ubaiiduned,  to  the  dominion  of  soli- 
tude, or  else  to  the  immolested  resort  of 
siiapiry  monsters,  and  feathered  hags,  which 
stun  the  midniglit  hoiu-s  ;  these  with  their 
importunate  shrieks ;  those  with  their  exe- 
crable howls. 

See  to  what  a  despicable,  what  an  ah- 
horred  state,  the  proudest  nionuments  of 
earthly  grandeur,  and  the  most  costly  appa- 
ratus for  ejuthly  felicity,   may  be  reduced  ! 


j  very  strong  tr.aces  of  that  arrogant  boast,  "  Let  us 
,  bui)d  us  a  city  and  a  tower,  whose  top  may  reach  to 

heaven."  Gen.  xi.  4. 

j      *  Alluding  to  that  jirodigioiis  inslancf  of  profusc- 

I  ncss,  ostentation  and  utolalrous  madmss,  "  Tlic  gol- 

j  den  image  set  up  in  the  plain  of  Dura,  wlicse  height 

(that  is  the  height  of  theslalue  and  ptdislal  taken 

together)  was  threescore  cubits,"  D.an.  iii.  1. 

t  Hauwolf,  a  (Jerman  traveller,  who  passed  that 

way  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  ir>7t,  says,   "  'I'liiscoun- 

I  try  is  so  dry  and  lianvn,  thai  it  cnnnot  bn  tilled,  and 

I  so' bare,  that  I  should  have  douhtol  ululher  tb.'  po- 

tent  Babylon  did  i.l.tiid  there,  if  I  bad  not  known  it 

by  several  ancient  and  delicitc  anli<iui(ic'j  that  arc 

I  sliU  standing  licrcalwut  in  great  deso'atian." 


266 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


A  iire^rsiaiit  and  alarming   proof,   that,  for 

lasting  honour,   or  real  happint'ss, 

■'  They  build  too  low,  who  build  beneath  the  skies." 

Asp.  I  very  much  approve  the  choice  of 
your  subject.  The  ruins  of  Persepolis 
would  have  given  us  a  view  of  magnificence 
in  abasement :  The  ruins  of  Palmyra  might 
have  showed  us  elegance  in  the  dust :  But 
the  ruins  of  Babylon  display,  at  once,  mag- 
nificence and  elegance  under  an  eclipse. 
Scripture  and  revelation  in  their  glory. — 
The  utter  destruction  of  this  city,  which 
was  absolutely  unefjualled  in  every  instance 
of  dignity,  and  seemingly  invincible  by  any 
enemy,  must  certainly  have  been  looked  up- 
on as  the  most  improbable  of  events.  Never- 
theless, its  utter  destruction  was  decreed  by 
Jehovah,  and  denounced  by  his  prophet, 
several  ages  before  the  execution  took  place. 
The  awful  sentence  was  not  only  denounced, 
but  recorded,  and  is  still  remaining,  in  the 
public  archives  of  our  religion. 

Titer.  Where  is  this  sentence  recorded, 
and  remaining? 

Asp.  In  the  prophecy  of  Isaiah  ;  and  not 
only  recorded,  but  in  the  most  circumstan- 
tial manner,  and  with  a  minute  detail  of  the 
horrible  desolations.  These  are  the  words 
of  the  inspired  writer :  "  Babylon,  the 
glory  of  kingdoms,  the  beauty  of  the  Chal- 
dees'  excellency,  shall  be  as  when  God 
overthrew  Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  It  shall 
never  be  inhabited  ;  neither  shall  it  be 
dwelt  in  from  generation  to  generation  ; 
neither  shall  the  Arabian  pitch  tent  there ; 
neither  shall  the  shepherds  make  their  fold 
there.  But  wild  beasts  of  the  desert  shall 
lie  there,  and  thek  houses  shall  be  full  of 
doleful  creatures;  and  owls  shall  dwell 
there,  and  satyrs  shall  dance  there,  and  the 
wild  beasts  of  the  islands  shall  cry  in  their 
desolate  houses,  and  dragons  in  their  pleas- 
iuit  palaces."  Isa.  xiii.  19 — 22. 

In  the  two  first  sentences  is  comprised 
the  most  finished  picture  of  prosperity  and 
grandeur.  "  The  glory  of  kingdoms  ;"  be- 
yond every  other  royal  seat,  spacious,  orna- 
mented, and  wealthy  ;  revered  by  many 
conquered  and  tributary  dominions  as  their 
mistress  and  their  sovereign.  The  beauty 
of  the  Chaldees'  excellency:"  the  Chaldeans, 
who  excelled  aU  the  nations  of  the  earth  in 
liches,  in  splendour,  and  in  power,  even 
they  gloried  in  this  wonderful  city.  This 
was  the  highest  lionom-  of  the  most  illustri- 
ous, and  chief  strength  of  the  most  victori- 
ous people  :  fairest,  where  all  was  conspi- 
cuously fair ;  noblest,  where  all  was  super- 
eminently noble.  Yet  this  distinguished, 
this  crowning  city,  shall,  at  the  blasting  of 
the  breath  of  Jehovah,  be  totally,  totally 
destroyed,  even  "  as  when  God  overthrew 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah." 

In  describing  the  overthrow,  the  prophet 


is  equally  admirable,  aiid  rises,  by  a  most 
judicious  gradation,  into  all  the  pomp  of 
hoiTor  :  g.  d.  "  Now,  indeed,  it  is  thronged 
with  citizens  ;  but  the  hour  is  coming,  when 
it  shall  be  entirely  depopidated,  and  not  so 
much  as  a  single  inhabitant  left.  Lest  you 
should  think  that,  in  process  of  time,  it 
may  be  re-edified,  and  again  abound  with 
joyful  multitudes,  it  shall  never  be  inhabit- 
ed more ;  no,  never  be  dwelt  in  any  more, 
from  generation  to  generation,  but  shall 
continue  a  dismal  waste  through  all  suc- 
ceeding ages  :  A  waste  so  dismal,  that  none 
of  the  neighbouring  shepherds  shall  make 
their  fold,  or  find  so  much  as  an  occasional 
shelter  for  their  flocks,  where  kings,  gran- 
dees, and  crowds  of  affluent  citizens,  repos- 
ed themselves  in  profound  tranqidllity. 
Even  the  rude  and  roving  Arabian  shall 
not  venture  to  pitch  his  tent,  nor  be  able 
to  procure  for  himself  the  poor  accommo- 
dation of  a  night's  lodging,  where  millions 
of  polite  people  basked  in  the  sunshine  of 
profuse  ])rosperity.  In  short,  it  shall  neither 
be  habitable  nor  accessible  but  "  a  dwelling 
place  for  dragons,  an  astonishment  and  a 
hissing."  (.Ter.  li.  37.)  What  was  once 
the  golden  city,  (Isaiah  xiv.  4,)  and  the 
metropolis  of  the  world,  shall  be  an  ever- 
lasting scene  of  desolation  and  horror ;  a 
fearful  monument  of  divine  vengeance,  and 
an  awful  admonition  to  human  pride." 

All  this  is  foretold  in  Scripture ;  and 
though  to  human  appearance  impossible, 
though  to  human  apprehension  incredible, 
was,  in  the  appointed  time,  most  minutely 
accomplished.  The  memorials  and  evi- 
dences of  the  accomplishment  remain  to 
this  very  day.  They  are  so  authentic,  that 
the  most  in({uisitive  curiosity  cannot  doidjt ; 
and  so  incontestible,  that  the  most  bigoted 
incredulity  will  not  deny.  And  should  not 
this  teach  us  to  reverence  the  authority,  to 
admire  the  wisdom,  and  confide  in  the  pro- 
mises, of  that  heavenly  volume  ? 

I  know  you  are  not  fond  of  compliments, 
Theron.  Therefore,  instead  of  speaking 
my  opinion  of  your  son's  performance,  I 
\^'ill  endeavour  to  return  your  favour.  You 
have  entertained  me  with  an  account  of  the 
most  memorable  ruins  extant  in  the  mate- 
rial world.  Let  me  present  my  friend  with 
a  picture  of  ruins  no  less  remarkable,  far 
more  deplorable,  and  unspeakably  intere^t- 
ing  to  us  all.  I  shall  give  it  in  the  colour- 
ing of  a  great  master,  whose  works  this  very 
day  I  happened  to  be  perusing. 

The  passage  displays  a  doctrine  of  the 
utmost  importance  in  the  Christian  scheme, 
and  by  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  imagery 
to  be  met  with  in  elegant  writing.  I  think 
it  maybe  looked  upon  as  a  practical  improve- 
ment of  Eugenio's  declamation.  It  pleased 
me  so  much  that  I  transcribed  it ;  and  I 
make  no  apology  for  reading  it,  because  I 


DIALOGUE  XL 


•267 


shall  expect  your  thanks.  Only  let  me 
hint,  that  it  considers  the  human  soul  as 
originiilly  a  habitation  of  God  through  the 
Spirit,  and  then,  speaking  of  its  fallen  con- 
dition, proceeds  -. 

"  That  he  hath  withdrawn  himself,  and 
left  this  his  temple  desolate,  we  have  many 
sad  and  plain  proofs  before  us.  The  state- 
ly ruins  are  visible  to  every  eye,  that  bear 
in  their  front  (yet  extant)  that  doleful  in- 
scription— Heue  God  once  dwelt.  Enough 
appears  of  the  admirable  frame  and  struc- 
ture of  the  soul  of  man,  to  show  the  divine 
presence  did  sometime  reside  in  it ;  more 
than  enough  of  vicious  deformity  to  pro- 
claim he  is  now  retired  and  gone.  The 
lamps  are  extinct,  the  altar  overturned ;  the 
light  and  love  are  now  vanished,  which  made 
the  one  shine  with  so  heavenly  brightness, 
the  other  bum  with  so  pious  fervour.  The 
golden  candlestick'  is  displaced,  and  thrown 
away  as  a  useless  thing,  to  make  room  for 
the  throne  of  the  prince  of  darkness.  The 
sacred  incense,  which  sent,  rolling  up  in 
clouds,  its  rich  perfumes,  is  exchanged  for 
a  poisonous,  hellish  vapour;  and  here  is, 
'  instead  of  a  sweet  savour,  a  stench.'  The 
comely  order  of  this  house  is  tmiied  all  into 
confusion  ;  the  '  beauties  of  holiness'  into 
'noisome  impurities  ;'  the  '  house  of  prayer 
to  a  den  of  thieves,"  and  that  of  the  worst 
and  most  horrid  kind  ;  for  every  lust  is  a 
thief,  and  every  theft  is  sacrilege.  Con- 
tinual rapine  and  robbery  is  committed  upon 
holy  things.  The  noble  powers  which  were 
designed  and  dedicated  to  divine  contem- 
plation and  delight,  are  alienated  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  most  despicable  idols,  and  em- 
ployed into  the  vilest  intuitions  and  em- 
braces, to  behold  and  admire  lying  vani- 
ties; to  indulge  and  cherish  lust  and  wick- 
edness. 

"  There  is  not  now  a  system,  an  entire 
table  of  coherent  truths  to  be  found,  or  a 
frame  of  holiness,  but  some  shivered  par- 
cels. How  many  attempts  have  been  made 
since  that  fearful  fall  and  ruin  of  this  fab- 
ric, to  comj)ose  again  the  truths  of  so  many 
several  kinds  into  their  distinct  orders,  and 
make  up  frames  of  science  or  useful  know- 
ledge !  and,  after  so  many  ages,  nothing  is 
linished  in  any  kind.  Sometimes  truths  arc 
misplaced,  and  what  belongs  to  one  kind  is 
transferred  to  another,  where  it  will  not  fit- 
ly match ;  sometimes  falsehood  inserted, 
wliii-h  shatters  or  disturbs  the  whole  frame. 
And  what  with  much  fruitless  pains  is  done  by 
one  hand,  is  dashed  in  jjieces  by  another;  and 
it  is  the  work  of  a  following  age  to  sweep 
away  the  fine-spun  cobwebs  of  a  former.  And 
those  truths  which  are  of  greatest  use,  are 
least  regai-ded  ;  their  tendency  and  design 
are  overlooked,  or,  they  are  loosened  and  torn 
off,  that  they  cannot  be  wrought  in,  so  as 
to  take  hold  of  the  soul ;  but  hover,  ae  faint 


inefTectual  notions,  that  signify  nothing. 
Its  very  fundamental  powers  are  shaken  and 
disjointed,  and  their  order  towards  one  an- 
other confounded  and  broken  :  So  that  what 
is  judged  considerable,  is  not  considered; 
what  is  recommended  as  eligible  and  lovely, 
is  not  loved  and  chosen.  Yea,  the  truth 
which  is  after  godliness,  is  not  so  much  dis- 
believed, as  hated,  held  in  unrighteousness  ; 
and  shines  as  too  feeble  a  '  light,'  in  that  ma- 
lignant darkness,  which  'comprehends  it  not.' 
You  come  amidst  all  this  confusion,  as  into 
the  ruined  palace  of  some  great  prince,  in 
which  you  see  here  the  fragments  of  a  no- 
ble pillar,  there  the  shattered  pieces  of 
some  curious  imagery;  and  all  lying  ne- 
glected and  useless  amongst  heaps  of  dirt. — 
He  that  invites  you  to  take  a  view  of  the 
soul  of  man,  gives  you  but  such  another 
prospect,  and  doth  but  say  to  you,  '  Behold 
the  desolation,'  all  things  rude  and  waste. 
So  that,  should  there  be  any  pretence  to 
the  divine  presence,  it  might  be  said,  '  If 
God  be  here,  why  is  it  thus  ?  The  faded 
gloiy,  the  darkness,  the  disorder,  the  impu- 
rity, the  decayed  state  in  all  respects  of  this 
temple,  too  plainly  show,  '  The  great  inha- 
bitant is  gone.'  "* 

Titer.  Your  painter,  I  must  own,  is  a 
master  in  his  profession  ;  and  seems  to  have 

a  peculiar  talent   for  a  night-piece But 

why,  I  beseech  you,  so  much  of  his  shades 
and  solemnity  ?  Has  he  no  colours  but  the 
dark  ?  no  lineaments  but  the  sour  ?  Could 
he  not  allow  us  one  bright  tint,  one  smiling 
feature,  when  he  was  copying  the  noblest 
being  in  this  sublunary  world  ? — Is  it  for 
the  honour  of  the  great  Creator  to  give  such 
a  deformed  draught  of  his  most  finished 
workmanship  ? 

Asp.  It  reflects  no  kind  of  dishonour 
upon  the  architect  of  Babylon,  that  its 
palaces  are  fallen,  its  edifices  demolish- 
ed, and  its  walls  levelled  with  the  ground. 
They  might  have  been  built  with  the 
exactest  symmetry,  and  once  embellished 
with  eveiy  graceful  ornament,  notwith- 
standing the  stroke  of  violence,  or  the 
sap  of  years,  have  now  reduced  them  to 
heaps  of  rubbish.  The  human  soul,  when 
recent  from  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty, 
was  bright  with  knowledge,  amiable  with 
virtue,  and,  in  every  respect  excellent.  But 
how — to  speak  in  the  language  of  the 
mourning  prophet,  a  language  never  more 
pertinent  than  on  the  present  occasion  — 
"  how  is  the  gold  become  dim  !  how  is  the 
most  fine  gold  changed  !" 

Ther.  Man's  soul  is  lational  and  eternal ; 
is  the  offspring  of  the  Deity,  and  capable  of 
resembling  its  Maker. 

Asp.  What  Milton  allows  to  the  fallen 


♦  See  Mr.  Howe's  treatise  entitled  The  living  temple. 


268 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


archiuigcl,    I   can   readily   allow  to  fallen 
man  : 


-He  had  not  lost 


All  his  original  brightness. 
The  grfind  and  distinguishing  faculties  of  the 
soul  remain.  Just  as  when  a  fountain  is 
poisoned,  the  waters  continue  to  How  ;  but 
iiow  no  longer  with  health,  flow  rather  with 
death  in  the  stream.  These  very  faculties, 
unless  renewed  and  regulated  by  the  influ- 
ence of  religion,  must  be  our  present  misery, 
and  %vill  prove  our  everlasting  curse.  "  The 
soul,"  you  say,  "  is  rational,  is  eternal."  And 
do  not  even  the  devils  possess  the  powers  of 
reason  ?  Is  not  their  existence  also  of  an 
endless  duration  ?  Yet  are  they,  of  all  crea- 
tures, the  most  execrable  and  the  most  miser- 
able. 

You  call  the  human  soul  the  offspring  of 
the  Deily;  and  you  call  it  properly.  Must 
we  not  then  adopt  the  prophet's  exclama- 
tion, "  How  art  thou  fallen,  O  Lucifer,  son 
of  the  morning  !"  (Isa.  xiv.  12.)  How  ait 
thou  degenerated,  O  man,  son  of  the  Most 
High  !  Thy  glorious  original  ser\'es  only  to 
set  forth,  with  more  glaring  evidence,  thy 
deplorable  apostacy." 

Capable,  you  add,  of  resembling  its 
Maker.  This,  I  acknowledge  is  a  valuable 
prerogative  :  In  this  the  infernal  spirits 
have  no  share.  But  this  capacity  will  al- 
ways lie  dormant,  will  never  awaken  into 
act,  never  be  estaldishcd  in  habit,  unless 
Almighty  grace  intervene. 

Ther.  The  most  celebrated  philosophers 
of  antiquity  frequently  exhort  their  readers 
to  follow  n;iture  as  a  certiiin  guide  to  true 
excellence.  Many  eloquent  writers  uf  our 
own  country  enlarge  upon  the  dignity  of 
human  nature,  and  from  this  topic  derive 
very  fori'ible  arguments  for  a  correspondent 
dignity  both  of  sentiment  and  behaviour. 
Upon  what  can  those  principles  of  the  an- 
cient sages,  and  of  our  later  moralists,  be 
founded  ? 

Asp.  Indeed,  Theron,  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
tell.  If  they  have  any  foundation,  it  is 
merely  imaginary;  not  laid  on  truth,  nor 
confirmed  by  experience.  According  to 
my  apprehension,  they  invert  the  order  of 
things ;  they  take  that  for  a  postulatum 
wliich  ought  to  be  ranked  among  the  desi- 
detata,  and  make  an  axiom  of  a  mere  fig- 
ment. 

Had  man  continued  as  he  was  created, 
to  act  according  to  nature  and  according  to 
the  law  of  God,  would  have  been  one  and 
the  same  thing.  Vov  which  reason  we  find 
no  precepts  of  religion,  no  delineation  of 
morality,  given  to  Adam  in  paradise ;  be- 
cause religion  and  morality  were  engraven 
on  his  heart ;  or  rather,  they  resulted  from 
the  very  bent  and  tendency  of  his  i)crfect 
frame.  But  since  the  fall  it  is  quite  other- 
^>ise. 


Ther.  Have  not  many  of  the  ancient 
worthies  been  living  confutations  of  your 
opinion  ?  wise  philosophers,  judicious  law- 
givers, and  steady  ministers  of  justice  ? 
their  desires  refined,  iheir  affections  bene- 
volent, their  whole  conduct  upright. 

Asp.  I  cannot  forbear  wondering,  that 
you  should  instance  in  lawgivers  and  min- 
isters of  justice  ;  since  the  vei-y  institution 
of  their  office  presupposes  the  depravity  of 
mankind.  Was  human  nature  agitated  by 
no  irregular  or  vicious  inclinations,  the  bar- 
rier of  laws  would  be  as  needless  in  civil 
societies,  as  the  vast  banks  of  Holland  are 
needless  in  our  upland  counties. 

But  this,  you  will  say,  is  a  digressive 
observation  ; — your  question  requires  a  po- 
sitive answer.  And  it  is  easy  to  answer — 
that  the  painting  is  beyond  the  life.  If  my 
author  has  been  too  free  with  the  dark,  my 
friend  has  been  too  lavish  of  the  glittering 
coloms.  Those  famous  men  might  aim, 
perhaps,  at  the  excellency  you  describe. 
Not  one  of  them  came  up  to  the  m;irk  ; 
or,  suppose  they  did,  tliis  woidd  not  invidi- 
date  my  tenet. 

Ther.  This  would  not  invalidate  your 
tenet !  Then  demonstratior.  carries  no  con- 
xdction. 

Asp.  Pray,  who  is  your  greatest  favour- 
ite among  all  the  renowned  persons  of  an- 
tiquity ? 

Ther.   Socrates He  stands  at  the  head 

of   the   class ;    and  was,  iFidisputably,  the 
wisest  and  the  best  of  the  heathen  world. 

Asp.  I  think  so  too.  Be  pleased,  how- 
ever, to  recollect  the  story  of  the  physiog- 
nomist, who  pretended  to  discover  the  dis- 
position of  the  mind  by  the  cast  of  the 
countenance.  The  professor  of  this  occult 
science  undertook,  you  know,  to  exercise 
his  skill  upon  Socrates  ;  and  pronoimced 
him,  after  an  examination  of  his  features, 
lascivious,  passionate  and  morose.  This 
judgment,  so  extravagantly  wide  of  the 
truth,  was  bringing  a  storm  of  ridicide  and 
resentment  upon  the  poor  fortune-teller ; 
when  the  ingenuous  philosopher  intei-posed, 
and  owned  the  description  to  be  exactly 
true  ;  that  such  was  his  natural  temper  ; 
and  if  his  conversation  had  been  of  a  dif- 
ferent turn,  it  was  owing  to  the  aids  of 
philosophy.  So  that,  even  in  your  most 
finished  character,  there  was  no  innate  dig- 
nity.    All  was  adventitious. 

TTier.  If  corruption  was  derived  unto  all 
men,  from  their  forefather  Adam,  methiiiks 
all  should  be  equally  corrupt.  But  this  is 
contrary  to  known  fact.  Some  we  see  na- 
turally loving  and  lovely,  gentle  in  their 
manners,  and  subject  to  no  inordinate  ap- 
petites. 

A'^p.  Some  persons  may  be  of  more  com- 
posed, or,  if  you  please,  of  less  dissolute 
(Manners,  than  the  generality  of  otl.'cr  ])eo- 


DIAl.OGUE  XI. 


■2(i9 


jjle.  Tliaiiks  (o  a  better  tempcratuio  of 
iheir  constitution,  or  a  nnore  watchl'iil  rare 
in  their  education.  But  show  ine  the  un- 
rej^onentte  man,  who  is  subject  to  no  inor- 
dinate appetites.  One  vile  affection  may 
clieck  another,  or  a  sense  of  decency  may 
hohl  the  curb  upon  all.  But  it  is  one  tiling 
to  have  the  wild  beast  in  the  heart  chained  ; 
another,  to  liave  him  expelled,  or  the  lion 
transformed  into  a  lamb. 

T/ter.  Have  we  not  often  observed  he- 
roic courage,  and  a  generosity  of  spirit, 
where  the  education  has  been  none  of  the 
strictest  ?  To  what  can  we  ascribe  these 
laudable  qualities,  but  to  the  iiniate  virtue 
and  nobleness  of  the  temper,  working  with- 
out any  auxiliary  succours  ? 

Asp.  Virtue,  Theron,  is  a  complete  as- 
semblage, not  some  disjointed  shreds,  of 
laudable  qualities.  Those  you  mention,  if 
not  accompanied  with  the  whole  circle  of 
amiable  accomplishments,  are  no  more  to 
be  called  virtue,  than  two  or  three  scattered 
fragments  of  an  edifice  are  to  be  honoured 
with  the  appellation  of  a  house.  How  often 
are  those  very  persons,  with  all  their  forti- 
tude, slaves  to  ignoble  jileasures,  or  in 
bondage  to  the  basest  lusts?  A  most  in- 
fallible indication  that  they  have  no  uniform 
generosity  nor  any  real  courage.  iJesire  of 
fame  may  prompt  to  many  such  acts  as 
dazzle  the  superficial  eye,  which  yet  are  far, 
veiy  far  from  genuine  virtue. 

JZier.  Do  you  then  attribute  the  Grecian 
politeness,  and  the  high  Roman  spirit,  all 
the  gallant  actions  of  their  heroes  and  ge- 
nerals, to  a  desire  of  fame  ? 

Asp.  There  is  reason  to  suspect,  that 
they  derived  theii"  origin  from  some  imjjro- 
j)er  motive  :  And  no  motive  was  more  art- 
fully instilled,  or  more  assiduously  cherish- 
ed, than  the  spirit  of  ambition.  View  their 
crowns,  their  statues,  their  triumphal  so- 
lemnities ;  read  their  orators,  their  histori- 
ans, their  poets.  The  former  were  the 
school,  the  latter  were  the  masters,  to  in- 
culcate this  grand  lesson. 

Let  us  consider  the  Romans  a  little  more 
attentively;  and  not  amidst  the  dregs  of 
their  conununity,  but  in  their  very  best 
ages,  when  their  re[)ublic  subsisted,  and 
their  Seipios  tlourished.  Many  great  and 
shining  deeds  were  undoubtedly  performed ; 
but  did  they  spring  from  a  reverential  re- 
gard to  the  Supreme  Being,  from  obedience 
to  his  will  or  zeal  for  his  honour? 

If  this  principle  should  be  thought  too 
refined,  did  they  proceed  from  a  love  to 
their  fellow-creatui'es ?  In  case  neither  of 
these  motives*   actuated  their  conduct,  it 


•  A  zenl  for  the  honour  of  God,  and  a  concern  for 
the  good  of  our  ft'llow-crealurcs,  are  the  true  sources 
of  virtue.  1  Cor.  x.  24,  3\.  When  our  actions  (low 
not  from  these  principles,  reason  will  put  a  query  up- 
on them,  and  revelation  will  cxpunsje  them  from  tnc 


can  never  be  placed  to  the  account  of  vir- 
tue  Had  benevolence  been   their  leading 

principle,  why  such  inhumanity  to  (';ir- 
tliage?  why  must  that  opulent  city  be  laid 
in  ashes,  and  her  numerous  citizens  be  put 
to  the  sv,ord  ?  Were  they  enemies  to  m;in- 
kind,  or  a  nuisance  in  the  world  ?  You  well 
know,  that  they  were  only  too  industrious, 
and  too  powerful ;  by  which  means,  they 
would  be  in  a  condition  to  eclipse  the  mag- 
nificence of  the  Roman  name,  and  dispute 
the  prize  of  sovereignty  witli  the  Roman 
state.  For  this  crime — a  crime  in  Ambi- 
tion's eye  absolutely  inexcusable — even  ( 'a- 
to's  ujiright  soul  shall  doom  them  to  uttc  r 
destruction,  and  Scipio's  gentle  hand  shall 
execute  the  horrid  decree. 

Is  this  virtue?  Does  virtue  ravage  coun- 
tries, from  the  mere  wantonness  of  pride  or 
lust  of  pre-eminence  ?  I)oes  virtue  destroy 
millions  of  lives,  only  to  aggrandize  a  par- 
ticular people,  or  extend  the  dominon  of 
some  favourite  empire  ?  if  this  were  virtue, 
Brutus  thought  too  honourably  of  her  char- 
acter when  he  termed  her  an  em])ty  name. 
I  am  sure  my  Tlieron  has  jtister  notions 
of  things.  He  need  not  be  informed  that 
true  \Trtue,  far  from  personating  the  rapa- 
cious harpy,  acts  as  a  father  to  others,  as  a 
father  to  ail ;  and  like  him  who  is  both 
its  pattern  and  its  author,  "  goes  about 
doing  good." 

Thcr.  The  most  elegant  cane,  if  plung- 
ed into  yonder  basin  wliile  the  waters  are 
curled  by  the  breeze,  will  appear  both 
crooked  and  coarse.  I  caimot  but  think 
the  accusers  of  Imman  nature  examine  her 
state  with  a  prejudiced  imderstaiuling,  which 
has  the  same  perverse  effect  upon  their 
judgment  as  those  ruffled  wa\es  ha\e  upon 
the  sight.  Or  else  they  contemijlate  her 
condition  with  a  melancholy  mind  ;  which, 
like  a  jaundiced  eye,  gives  every  oijject  a 
distempered  aspect,  darkens  the  cheerftd, 
discolours  the  beautiful,  and  hangs  even  the 
sun  in  mourning. 

Asp.  Rather  let  this  be  the  comparison 
to  illustrate  our  point,  view  the  meanest 
piece  of  earth  through  the  i)rismatic  glass, 
and  it  will  appear,  not  beautiful  oidy,  but 
perfectly  splendid.  Remove  the  delusory 
medium,  and  all  the  sophisticated  finery 
vanishes.  The  indigo,  the  orange,  the  vio- 
let are  gone,  and  leave  nothing  to  be  seen, 
but  a  rude  unornamented  lump  of  clay. 
So,  if  we  consider  human  nature  according 
to  the  partial  representations  of  self-love, 
or  contemplate  it  in  the  fiattering  mirror 
of  some  popular  writings,  it  may  seem  re- 


list of  virtues.  They  may  be  specious  in  themselves; 
they  may  be  cosily  to  the  performer;  they  may  even 
be  serviceable  to  others;  but  can  no  more  deserve 
the  title  of  virtue,  than  the  activity  of  our  fire- 
men, in  extinpuishins  the  flames  on  some  insured 
housej  can  merit  the  name  of  chanty. 


270 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


gular,  holy,  excellent :  But,  if  we  behold 
it  under  the  lipht,  the  unerring  light  of  re- 
velation, its  fancied  charms  disappear  ;  it 
stands  clothed  with  deformity,  and  is  a 
spectacle  of  commiseration,  if  not  of  hor- 
ror. 

Ther.  What  reason  have  you  to  father 
such  a  notion  upon  the  sacred  writings  ? 
The  sacred  writings  inform  us,  that  man 
was  made  "  after  the  image  of  God." 
This,  sure,  could  not  be  so  dishonourable 
and  depraved  a  pattern  as  your  discourse 
would  insinuate. 

Asp.  Far,  very  far  from  a  dishonourable 
pattern  !  The  image  of  God  is  the  consum- 
mate standard  of  all  perfection.  In  con- 
formity to  this  admirable  exemplar,  our 
first  parents  were  created  ;  and  in  this  ad- 
mirable condition  they  continued,  till,  by 
transgression,  they  fell — fell  from  the 
most  holy  and  happy  state,  into  guilt,  con- 
demnation, and  ruin.  Therefore  when  this 
fatal  catastrophe  had  taken  place,  the  sacred 
historian  varies  his  syle,  and  with  a  re- 
markable peculiarity,  as  well  as  propriety 
of  speech,  says  "  Adam  begat  a  son  in  his 
own*  (not  in  the  divine)  likeness."  That 
eveiy  reader  may  advert  to  this  melancholy, 
but  important  truth,  it  is  marked  more 
strongly  still,  it  is  enforced  by  a  very  em- 
phatical  repetition  :  "  After  his  own  image," 
Moses  adds  (  Gen.  v.  3. )  ;  as  contradistin- 
guished to  the  image  of  God,  mentioned  in 
a  preceding  verse.  Which  expressions  are 
evidently  intended  to  denote  the  difference 
between  the  state  in  which  Adam  was  cre- 
ated and  Seth  was  begotten. 

Ther.  Pray  let  me  have  a  succinct,  but 
full  account  of  this  tragical  story,  since  all 
your  orthodox  divines  lay  such  a  mighty 
stress  upon  the  doctrine  of  the  fall. 

Asp.  God,  having  formed  the  human 
body  out  of  the  ground,  animated  the  struc- 
ture with  a  living  soul  ;  and  transcribed 
upon  this  soul  the  image  of  his  blessed 
Self.  All  was  light  in  the  understanding, 
all  was  rectitude  in  the  will,  and  nothing 
but  harmony  in  the  affections. — Man,  thus 
endowed,  was  placed  in  the  delightful  gar- 
den of  Eden,  and  furnished  with  every  ac- 
commodation which  was  necessary  to  su]5- 
port  his  being,  or  desirable  to  gratify  his 
senses.  He  was  constituted  lord  of  this 
lower  creation  ;  and,  amidst  numberless  in- 
dulgences, received  only  one — easy — nega- 
tive command,  "  not  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  the 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil."  From  this 
he  was  to  abstain,  as  a  pledge  of  his  sub- 
jection, and  as  an  exercise  of  his  obedience. 
Bliss  and  immortality  were  to  be  the  re- 
ward of  duty  ;  misery  and  death  the  pun- 


♦  This  is  affirmed,  not  of  Cain,  but  of  Seth,  the 
most  excellent  of  Adam's  children,  and  father  of  the 
holy  seed. 


ishment  of  disobedience  :  "  In  the  day 
thou  eatest  thereof,  thou  shalt  surely  die," 
( Gen.  ii.  17,)  was  the  sanction  of  tiie  divine 
law. 

How  equitable !  how  gracious  the  terms  ! 
Yet  neither  the  goodness  of  God  could  in- 
duce him  to  keep  them,  nor  the  authority 
of  God  deter  him  from  breaking  them. 
Unreasonably  discontented,  even  with  such 
advantageous  circumstances,  and  presump- 
tuously aspiring  to  be  like  the  Most  High, 
he  hearkened  to  the  suggestions  of  the  enl 
spirit.  In  a  word,  he  violated  the  precept, 
and  incurred  the  penalty.  God  was  just, 
and  man  was  undone.  He  lost  his  up- 
rightness,* became  subject  to  mortality, 
and,  as  the  nervous  original  expresses  it, 
"  died  the  death." 

Ther.  Tnie,  he  became  subject  to  many 
bodily  infirmities,  and  to  the  necessity  of 
final  dissolution.  But  what  has  this  sen- 
tence, or  what  have  these  sufferings  to  do 
with  your  notion  of  universal  depravity  in 
the  mind  ?  The  death  which  the  Almighty 
Legislator  threatened,  can  be  opposed 
only  to  the  life  which  the  Almighty  Crea- 
tor gave. 

Asp.  Be  it  so. — The  Creator  gave,  and 
man  possessed,  a  life  incomparably  more 
excellent  than  that  which  the  pulse  imparts, 
or  the  beasts  enjoy.  He  possessed  a  divine 
life,  which,  according  to  the  definition  of 
the  apostle,  consisted  "  in  knowledge,  in 
righteousness,  and  tnie  holiness."  (Eph.  iv. 
24;  Col.  iii.  10.)  This,  which  was  the 
distinguishing  glory,  and  the  supreme  feli- 
city of  his  nature — this,  alas  !  was  extinct. 

His  understanding,  originally  enlightened 
with  \\'isdom,  was  clouded  and  overwhelmed 
with  ignorance. — His  heart,  once  filled 
with  religious  veneration,  and  warmed  with 
heavenly  love,  became  alienated  from  God 
his  Maker.  His  passions  and  appetites, 
instead  of  moving  on  in  orderly  array,  ac- 
cording to  the  beauteous  measures  of  truth 
and  duty,  grew  mutinous,  shook  off  the  go- 
vernment of  reason,  and  ran    wild  into  the 

most  lawless  extravagancies In  a  word, 

the  whole  moral  frame  was  unhinged,  dis- 
jointed, broken. 

Ther.  What  cause  have  you  to  suppose, 
that  all  this  misery  was  either  included  in 
the  threatening,  or  introduced  by  the  fall? 

Asp.  The  ignorance  of  fallen  Adam  was 
palpable  :  witness  that  absurd  attempt  to 
hide  himself  from  the  eye  of  Omniscience 
among  the  trees  of  the  garden. — His  aver- 
sion to  the  all-gracious  God  was  equally 
plain  ;  otherwise  he  would  never  have  fled 
from  his   Maker,   but  rather  have   hasted, 


•innocence,  that  as  a  veil 


Had  shadow'd  them  from  knowing  ill  was  done, 
Just  confidence,  and  native  righteousness. 

Milton,  b.  9. 1.  lOM. 


DIALOGUE  XI. 


271 


and  on  tlie  wings  of  (tesire,  into  tlic  place 
of  the  divine  niiuiifestation. 

A  strange  \ariety  of  di.sorderly  jiassioiis* 
were  evidently  predominant  iu  his  breast. 
— Pride,  for  lie  refnses  to  acknowledge  his 
guilt,  tliongh  he  cannot  but  own  the  fact. 
— Ingratitude,  for  he  obliquely  ni)braids 
the  Creator  with  his  gift,  as  though  it  had 
been  a  sniu-e  rather  than  a  blessing  :  "  The 
woman  whom  thou  gavest  me." — Want  of 
natiu'al  affection  ;  for  he  endeavours  to  cast 
all  the  blame  u|)on  the  weaker  vessel,  and 
to  ac(|uit  his  obnoxious  self,  by  impeaching 
the  wife  of  his  l)osoni, — The  female  crimi- 
nal acts  the  same  unhumbled  part ;  neither 
takes  shame  to  herself,  nor  gives  glory  to 
God,  nor  jnits  up  a  single  petition  for  par- 
don. 

As  all  these  disasters  ensued  upon  the 
breach  of  the  commandment,  they  furnish 
us,  I  think,  with  the  best  key  to  oi)en  the 
meaning  of  the  prohibitory  sanction.  They 
prove,  beyond  any  argimient,  that  spiritual 
death,  and  all  its  consequences,  were  c/)ni- 
j)rehended  in  the  extent  of  the  threaten  • 
ing. 

Tlier.  How  could  one  act  of  disobe- 
dience produce  such  destmctive  effects  ? 
erase  the  fair  image  of  the  Godhead,  and 
stamj)  the  monster,  stamp  the  veiy  devil  in 
its  stead  ? — and  so  small  an  act  of  disobe- 
dience too ! 

Asp.  The  prohibition,  if  you  please,  was 
small,  not  so  the  transgression.  It  was 
committed  against  the  clearest  knowledge 
of  duty,  and  the  strongest  obligations  to 
obedience.  It  argued  ingratitude  for  the 
richest  favours,  and  imbelief  of  the  most 
solemn  declarations.  It  was  an  act  of  the 
most  horrid  presumption  in  the  creature, 
and  of  the  most  impious  rebellion  against 
the  Creator. 

As  to  the  smallness,  or  rather  the  gentle 
and  benign  import  of  the  command,  this 
aggravates  beyond  measure  the  crime  of 
disobedience.  Alluding  to  the  words  once 
addressed  to  the  Syrian  general,  we  may 
justly  expostulate,  "  O  thou  Adam,  if  thy 
Lord  had  bid  thee  do  some  great  thing,  (2 
Kings  v.  13,)  in  submission  to  his  high  au- 
thority, and  out  of  gratitude  for  his  un- 
speakable goodness,  oughtest  thou  not  to 
have  done  it  ?  How  much  more,  when  he 
says  to  thee — Freely  eat  of  all  except  this 


«  Milton,  speaking  of  the  unhappy  pair,  and  des- 
cribing tlie  consequences  of  their  fall,  says, 

Nor  only  tears 

Rain'd  at  their  eyes  ;  but  high  winds  within 
Began  to  rise;  high  passions, anger,  hate. 
Mistrust,  suspicion,  discord,  and  shcxjk  sore 
Their  inward  state  of  mind ;  calm  region  onrp. 
And  full  of  peace;  now  tossed  and  turbulent  ! 
For,  understanding  rul'd  not,  and  the  will 
Heard  not  her  lore  !  but  in  subjection  now 
To  sensual  appetite,  who  from  benesth 
Usurping  over  sovereign  reason  claJm'd 
Superior  swav.— Buufr  9,  1.  U3I, 


single  tree.  Thousands,  tliousands  of  ho- 
nours, privileges,  and  gifts  be  thine,  only 
one  acknowledgment  of  thy  subjection  mine  ; 
and  that  the  easiest  which  thy  heait  can 
wisn,  or  even  thy  fancy  conceive." 

You  ask,  how  could  one  act  of  disobe- 
dience produce  such  destructi\e  effects  ? — 
I  ajiswer,  the  reality  of  the  fact,  in  number- 
less instances  of  material  nature,  is  plain 
to  a  demonstration,  while  the  manner  of 
operation  remains  an  imiienetrable  secret. 
Every  child  perceives  the  former,  Newton 
himself  is  at  a  loss  for  the  latter.  For 
which  reason,  I  have  always  thought  it  bet- 
ter to  believe  what  God  has  taught,  than 
attempt  to  explain  what  God  has  concealed. 
Let  us  forego  this  curious,  perhaps  fruitless 
inquii-y,  and  substitute  a  remark,  which  na- 
turally arises  from  the  subject,  and  may  con- 
siderably edify  our  minds. 

T7ier.  Edify  !  Is  it  possible  to  render  this 
dishonourable  and  afflictive  notion  edifying  ? 
Can  ajiy  genei'ous  fj-uit  spring  from  such  a 
penurious  soil  ? 

Asp.  Sampson,  I  believe,  had  no  expec- 
tation of  finding  any  thing  valuable  in  the 
relics  of  his  slain  lion  ;  but,  to  his  agreeable 
disappointment,  "  there  was  honey  in  the 
carcase."  (  Judg.  xiv.  8.)  If  our  doctrine  ap- 
pear ghastly  as  the  one,  it  may  yield  a  be- 
nefit sweet  as  the  other. 

From  hence  we  may  learn,  (what,  when 
rightly  leajrued,  is  more  serviceable  than  aJl 
the  sciences)  the  extreme  malignity  of  sin. 
Wien  volcanos  open  their  tremendous  jaws, 
and  disgorge  a  fiery  inundation,  they  confine 
their  fury  to  a  single  temtoiy.  When  fa- 
mine lifts  her  mildewed  hand,  and  destroys 
the  supports  of  animd  life,  she  is  content 
with  ruining  a  kingdom  or  a  nation.  When 
war  drenches  his  sword  in  blood,  or  the 
pestilence  impregnates  the  air  with  poison, 
they  also,  even  they  observe  some  limits, 
and  never  make  the  whole  compass  of  na- 
ture the  scene  of  their  ravages.  But  sin 
levelled  its  blow  at  the  whole  human  race. 
Sin  poured  contagion,  and  spread  destnic- 
tion  through  all  countries  and  all  ages.  O/ie 
single  act  of  sin  brought  confusion  and  a 
curse  upon  the  material,  and  miseries,  in- 
finite millions  of  miseries  on  the  rational 
world.  How  then  shoidd  we  fear  this  most 
pernicious  of  all  evils  !  with  what  careful- 
ness gufu-d  against  its  insidious  idluremcnts ! 
with  what  resolution  fly  from  its  killing 
caresses  ! 

T/ier.  I  must  obser\e,  that  you  take  for 
granted  what  reniiuns  to  be  proved.  Foi-, 
supposing  your  accoiuit  tnie  with  regard  to 
Adam,  yet  how  does  tlus  affect  his  chil 
(b-en?  Wiy  must  all  his  posterity  be  con- 
taminated because  their  forefather  has  plav- 
ed  the  prodigid  ?  Such  a  hea\7  charge 
against  the  whole  body  of  mankind  will  not 
be  admitted  w  itJiout  veiy  cogent  proofs. 


272 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Asp.  The  proofs  are  cogent ;  perhaps  ir- 
refragable.—Reason  ofiers  to  turn  evidence 
in  the  case.  Reason,  in  concuiTence  with 
revelation,  demands,  "  Who  can  bring  a 
clean  thing  out  of  an  unclean  ?"  (Job.  xiv. 
4.)  If  the  fountain  be  polluted,  how  can  the 
streams  be  pure  ?  and  if  the  root  is  corrupt, 
it  is  impossible  to  conceive  how  the 
branches  should  be  sound,  or  the  fruit 
good.* 

The  scriptural  testimonies  ai'e  almost 
innumerable.  They  pour  their  evidence 
from  every  quarter,  and  constitute  not  two 
or  three  only,  but  a  whole  cloud  of  witnesses. 
"  God  made  man  upright,"  says  the  royal 
preacher ;  the  human  nature,  in  its  primi- 
tive state,  was  without  any  wrong  bias ; 
but  at  and  ever  since  the  first  transgres- 
sion, they  hav^e  found  out  and  foUowed 
many  perverse  inventions,  (Eccl.  vii-  '29.) 

Tlier.  I  do  not  deny  but  multitudes  of 
people,  seduced  by  bad  example,  or  betrayed 
by  their  own  inadvertency,  have  departed 
from  the  rule  of  duty ;  have,  as  the  wise 
man  affirms,  tried  many  foolish  experiments 
to  acquire  happiness,  and  devised  as  many 
idle  excuses  for  their  folly.  But  this  is  no 
such  irrefragable  proof  that  they  were  ori- 
ginally bad  :  It  only  implies,  that,  not  tak- 
ing proper  head  to  their  ways,  they  warped 
from  their  native  uprightness.  As  yonder 
tidips,  though  perfectly  beautiful  at  present, 
if  not  attended  with  the  necessary  cultiva- 
tion, will  degenerate  into  homely  flowers, 
and  at  length  be  no  better  than  tawdry 
weeds. 

Asp.  No,  my  friend.  Iniquity  is  not  an 
adventitious  thing,  caught  from  example,  or 
contracted  by  carelessness.  These  may  in- 
crease, but  these  do  not  occasion  the  moral 
malady.  A  sinful  disposition  is  as  early 
as  our  being,  the  very  mould  in  which  all 
our  faculties  are  cast.  David  bears  very 
express  testimony  to  this  humbling  truth  : 
"Behold!"  (He  sets  his  N.  B.  upon  the 
passage.  It  is  a  sad  but  certain  fact;  such 
as  should  never  depart  from  my  memorj', 
nor  ever  be  omitted  in  my  confessions  :  and 
is  much  to  be  regarded  by  every  reader  : ) 
"  I  was  shapen  in  wickedness,  and  in  sin 
did  my  mother  conceive  me,"  (Psal.  li.  5.) 
As  though  he  had  said,  "  Alas,  Lord,  this 
crime,  though  extremely  horrid,  is  but  a 
little  part  of  my  guilt.  I  have  not  only  sin- 
ned in  practice,  but  I  am  totally  and  univer- 
sally corrupt  in  my  very  nature-" 


•  Milton  has  anticipated  Theron's  objection ;  and 
In  Adam's  soliloquy,  very  judiciously  solved  it. 
Ah !  why  should  all  mankind, 
For  one  man's  fault  thus  guiltless  be  condemn'd, 
If  guiltless  but  from  me  what  can  proceed 
But  all  corrupt,  both  body  and  mmd  deprav'd  : 
Not  to  do  only,  but  to  will  the  same 
With  me  ?    How  can  they  acquitted  stand 
In  sight  of  God  '.—Book  10.  1.  U21. 


This  he  acknowledges,  not  to  extenuate 
his  offence,  but  to  lay  open  his  excessive 
vileness.  And  indeed  it  is  not  possible  to 
form  a  right  judgment  of  ourselves,  or  to 
be  didy  humbled  before  God,  unless  we  add 
the  depravation  of  our  nature  to  the  trans- 
gressions of  our  life.  Just  as  it  is  impos- 
sible to  discern  what  monstrous  and  vora- 
cious anim-als  lie  bid  in  the  ocean,  if  we 
only  glance  an  eye  upon  the  surface  of  the 
waters. 

Ther.  This,  you  know,  was  written  by  the 
royal  penitent  under  the  pangs  of  seveie  re- 
morse. Does  not  a  sense  of  his  enormous 
iniquity,  together  with  the  apprehension  of 
di^-ine  wrath,  make  his  hand  sliake,  and  lead 
him  to  aggravate  features  ?  Or,  suppose  it 
were  true  of  the  adulterous  king,  is  it 
equally  applicable  to  others,  who  have  es- 
caped such  gross  pollutions. 

Asp.  It  is  no  exaggerating  draught,  but  a 
faithful  delineation,  and  exactly  represents 
every  child  of  Adam.  It  was  wTitten  with 
the  utmost  deliberation ;  and  tlierefore  is 
introduced  witli  that  call  for  peculiar  atten- 
tion, "  Behold  !"  And  though  David  was 
scandalously  criminal  in  his  intrigue  with 
the  wife  of  Uriah,  yet,  the  general  tenor  of 
his  life  was  not  only  in'eproacliable,  but 
exemplary.  Who  so  zealous  for  the  house 
of  his  God,  or  so  devoted  an  admirer  of  the 
di%nne  word  ?  His  heart  was  an  altai',  ever 
flaming  with  heavenly  love ;  and  his  tongue 
a  trumpet,  to  sound  the  praises  of  Jehovah 
through  all  generations.  And  if  lie  had 
reason  to  make  his  abasing  confession,  who 
is  the  person  that  can  think  himself  ag- 
grieved by  sharing  in  the  imputation? 

One  of  our  most  eminent  martyrs,"  when 
he  heard  of  any  malefactor  condemned  to 
suffer  an  ignominious  death,  used  to  lay 
his  hand  upon  his  breast  and  say,  "the  sewls 
of  all  those  villanies  which  brought  that  un- 
happy wretch  to  the  gibbet  were  sown  here. 
And,  if  they  have  not  sprung  up  into  the 
same  detestable  deeds,  unto  divine  grace, 
imto  divine  grace  alone  be  all  the  glory  !" 

Ther.  Your  martyrs  had  honest  hearts, 
but  not  always  the  clearest  heads.  I  admire 
their  zeal,  and  reverence  their  memories  ; 
but  I  can  no  more  receive  their  opinion  as 
an  oracle,  than  I  can  be  persuaded  to  wor- 
ship their  relics. 

Asp.  I  have  no  intention  to  palm  Popery 
on  my  friend,  nor  any  desire  to  calumniate 
the  human  species-  If  it  be  disingenuous 
and  sinful  to  asperse  a  particular  character, 
bow  much  more  unjustifiable  to  traduce  or.r 
nature  in  general. 

My  account,  dark  and  disgustful  as  it  is, 
stands  confirmed  by  a  higher  authority  than 
any  private  opinion.     It  is  conlintied  from 

*  Mr.  I'radfoid. 


DIALOGUE  XI. 


27.3 


an  universal  survey  of  mankind,  taken  by 
the  eye  of  the  Creator  himself,  and  left  u])on 
record  in  the  books  of  revelation.  "  'i'he 
Lord  looked  down  from  heaven,  upon  the 
children  of  men,  to  see  if  there  were  any 
that  did  understand,  and  seek  afti-r  God." 
What  is  the  result  of  this  grand  inquiry  ? 
It  must,  without  all  peradventure,  be  infal- 
libly true  ;  because  God's  inspection  is  too 
keen  to  be  eluded,  and  his  judgment  too 
impartial  to  be  biassed.  This  is  the  report, 
made  by  the  infinitely  wise  Observer — "They 
are  all  gone  aside,  they  are  ail  together  be- 
come filthy*  there  is  none  that  doeth  good, 
no  not  one."  (Psal.  xiv.  2,  3.) 

Titer.  This,  I  apprehend,  is  the  charac- 
tT  of  those  besotted  creatures,  those  most 
egregious  of  all  fools,  who  say,  "  There  is 
no  God."  To  them  the  psalm  relates,  and 
to  them  the  abandoned  character  is  appro- 
priated. They  have  it,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
cum  privilegio. 

Axp.  It  is  meant,  rather  of  practical  than 
of  speculative  Atheists,  who  say,  not  expli- 
citly with  their  mouths,  but  imjtlicitly  in 
their  hearts,  "  There  is  no  God,"  who  live 
as  if  there  was  no  all-seeing  Eye  to  take  cog- 
nizance of  their  present  conduct,  no  Su- 
preme Judge  to  call  them  to  a  future  reckon- 
ing. And  I  d-are  appeal  to  yourself,  though 
perhaps  the  fondest  of  fathers,  whether  this 
instance  of  "foolishness  is  not  bound  up  in 
the  hearts  of  our  children  'i"'\  nay,  whether 
it  be  not  natural  to  us  all,  both  in  youth  and 
manhood,  to  forget  our  Creator  ? 

In  this  case,  Theron,  there  is  no  mono- 
poly. Your  right  and  mine  are  too  strongly 
established  by  experience,  and  too  clearly 
expressed  in  the  preceding  scripture,  to  ad- 
mit of  any  controversy.  If  there  were  any 
that  understood — they  are  all  gone  out  of 
the  way — There  is  none  that  doeth  good — 
no  not  one.  Could  any  conveyancer  in 
Europe  have  contrived  a  form  of  words 
more  fully  to  ascertain  our  unhappy  title  ? 

Thcr.  There  may  be  some  texts  in  scrip- 
ture which  seem  to  countenance  your  asser- 
tion, but  these  refer  to  the  worst  of  men, 
in  the  worst  of  times.  And  can  you,  with 
any  justice,  ascribe  the  properties  of  a  few 
reprobates  to  the  whole  species  ? 


*  The  two  original  words  are  metaphorical  expres- 
sions taken  from  wines  that  are  t)ecome  sour,  and 
iiieats  that  are  in  a  state  of  putrefaction.  I  believe 
it  isimpos-sibletofind  images  more  strongly  expressive 
of  a  total  depravity,  and  of  the  utmost  degeneracy. 

I  Prov.  xxii.  15.  Let  none  think,  tli;it  l)y  foolish- 
ness the  sacred  writer  means  only  those  silly  tricks, 
which  discover  a  weakness  of  iin'derstanding  in  chil- 
dren Solomon's  fool  is  not  the  idiot,  hut  the  sinner  ; 
iin(f  ihe  folly  stijyinatized  throughout  the  I'roverhs, 
denotes,  not  a  failure  in  the  intellectual,  hut  in  the 
religious  and  moral  character. 

The  words  in  this  passage  are  peculiarly  forcible. 
"  Koolishness  is  in  the  heartj"  implanted  in  the  very 
nature; — sunk  deep  into  the  iiimosl  faculties:  and  not 
only  sunk  deep,  but  adheres  almost  inseparably — is 
wrapt,  lied,  and  bound,  twines  like  the  ivy,  and  is 
roolcd  like  the  oak. 


Asp.  This  very  passage,  and  .'^ihers  of  a 
like  import,  are  adopted  by  St.  Paul,  and  ap- 
plied both  to  Jews  and  (rentiles,  with  this 
professed  design,  "  that  every  mouth  may 
be  stopped,  and  all  the  world  may  be  foinid 
guilty  before  (lod."  Rom.  iii.  19.  NVhich 
evinces,  I  should  think,  beyond  all  doubt, 
the  universality  of  its  extent. 

If,  to  the  universality,  we  add  the  antiqui- 
ty of  this  fact,  it  will  bear  the  two  grand 
characteristics  of  truth.  Far  from  being  a 
novel  opinion,  it  was  received  as  a  maxim, 
in  the  early  age  of  Job  :  "  What  is  man,  that 
he  should  pretend  to  be  clean  ?  and  he  that  i.s 
born  of  a  woman,  that  he  should  presume  to 
be  righteous  ?  Righteous  before  the  infinitely 
just  and  holy  One!  "Behold!  he  puttetli 
no  trust  in  his  saints,"  though  the  m»st  ex- 
alted of  all  Mitelliirent  beings.  "  Yea, 
the  heavens,"  those  brightest  parts  of  the 
material  creation,  "  are  not  clean  in  his 
sight.  How  much  more  abominable  and 
filthy  is  man  ?"*  whodrinketh  iniquity.  Job 
XV.  li — KJ.  though  loathsome  to  Ged,  and 
worse  than  poison  to  his  own  soul  ;  yet 
drinketh  it  like  water,  without  any  hesita- 
tion or  the  least  fear,  with  an  eager  and 
profuse  delight. 

This,  you  will  observe,  was  alleged  in  a 
dispute,  carried  on  with  no  small  vehemency, 
yet  is  admitted  on  all  hands  as  unexception- 
ably  true.  Be  pleased  also  to  take  notice, 
that  the  charge  is  not  confined  to  some  very 
notorious  sinners,  but  is  laid  against  the 
whole  body  of  mankind.  Whatever  figure 
they  make,  each  in  his  own  conceit;  they 
are  all  described  in  the  words  of  God,  as 
beings  insatiably  athirst  after  evil,  from  ob- 
jects that  we  cannot  endure  to  behold,  or 
cannot  behold  without  abhorrence.f  Such 
is  man  by  nature  !  People  must  have  eyes 
very  different  from  mine,  to  discern  any 
dignity  in  this  draught. 

Ther.  As  to  innate  dignity,  we  will  let 
it  pass.  But  this  1  must  insist  upon — and 
several  writers  of  the  first  repute  are  on  my 
side — That  we  enter  the  stage  of  life  in  a 
state  of  indifference  either  to  good  or  evil  ; 
That  the  affections  are  like  a  balance  nicely 
poised,  and  preponderating  neither  one  v\ay 
nor  the  other  :  The  whole  sotil,  like  a  sheet 
of  fair  paper,  is  equally  stisceptibleof  straight 
or  crooked  lines,  and  will  as  readily  receive 
the  amiable  features  of  an  angel,  as  the  hi- 
deous deformity  of  a  devil. 

Asj^.   With  regard  to  your  first  illustra- 

*  The  immaculate  purity  of  the  blessed  God,  and 
the  utter  depravi'v  of  fallin  ninn,  are  points  of  so 
great  importance  iii  llu'  scnpluial  system  ofdiviiiily, 
that  they  are  inculi'aicd  n<i  less  Ili.-ui  thiit  tiiues 
within  the  comjiass  of  thissingit  hooii,  and  by  much 
the  same  noble  contrast  of  striking  images;  chai).  iv. 
17,  18  ;  XV.  14— ]«;  xxv.  4— «. 

I  The  original  words  have  two  significations:  one 
is  used  to  signify  that  abominable  praclicc,  which  t!ie 
Kgy|itiaiis  couUl  not  bear  lo  see,  Kxod.  vii.  22.  Ilch. 
Hiii.  vcr.  2(1.  F-ng.  Itib.  Theoihe  do'otesan  objct* 
too  siiualid  to  be  viewed  without  loa  hing. 


2n 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


tion,  the  simile  I  think,  confutes  the 
sentiment.  For  to  be  in  suspense  whether 
we  shall  love  the  Lord  our  God,  the 
giver  of  all  good  and  the  source  of  all 
perfection,  this  surely  must  be  condemn- 
ed as  an  irreligious  temper — This  is  a 
criminal  halting  between  God  and  Baal ; 
a  neutrality,  which  is  no  better  than  hosti- 
lity. 

I  fear  the  writers  you  mention  pay  but 
little  deference  to  the  inspired  volume.  Our 
escutcheon  is  very  diflferently  blazoned 
in  that  office  of  spiritual  heraldry.  "  A 
transgressor  from  the  womb,"*  is  one  of  our 
hereditary  titles.  Transgressors  we  are  by 
strong  internal  propensity,  even  before  we 
transgress  in  outward  act. 

Observe  the  young  hawthorn  plants, 
which  have  unfolded  their  green  leaves,  in 
yonder  nursery,  but  have  scarce  learned  to 
spread  the  gay  blossom.  Is  there  in  those 
an  equal  aptitude  to  produce  the  luscious 
juicy  grape,  or  their  own  coarse  and  husky 
berry  ?  By  no  means.  They  will  (unless 
grafted  with  some  generous  cyon)  certain- 
ly, universally,  constantly  bear  the  same 
harsh  fruit  with  their  parent  tree  :  So  cer- 
tainly will  the  human  mind,  if  not  renewed 
by  the  spirit  of  Christ,  branch  out  into  un- 
godly tempers,  and  bring  forth  wicked  prac- 
tices. 

Ther.  The  nobleman  mentioned  by  Xe- 
nophon,f  when  overcome  by  an  alluring 
temptation,  devised,  for  his  excuse,  the  no- 
tion of  two  souls,  one  that  inclined  him  to 
vice,  another  that  prompted  him  to  virtue. 
This  was  a  moderate  caricature,^  compared 
with  my  friend's.  He  will  allow  nothing 
regular  or  graceful  in  the  human  heart. 
You  have  metamorphosed  the  master -piece 
of  the  creation  into  such  a  deformed  object, 
as  may  justly  render  him  a  terror  to  him- 
self. Can  there  be  a  grosser  libel  upon  the 
Creator,  or  a  greater  discouragement  to  our 
fellow-creatures  ? 

Asp.  If  this  be  a  distorted  piece,  what 
will  you  call  the  following  description  ? 
"  God  saw  that  the  wickedness  of  man  was 
great  upon  the  earth  ;  and  that  every  ima- 
gination of  the  thoughts  of  his  heart  was  on- 
ly evil  continually.''  Gen.  vi.  5.  This,  per- 
haps, may  be  reckoned  a  more  monstrous 
drawing  still :  Yet  it  came  from  that  hand 
which  painted  the  canopy  of  the  skies,  and 
touched  all  the  pictures  of  natm-e  into  such 
inimitable  perfection. 

Pray  let  us  examine  the  most  distinguish- 


»  Isa.  xlviii.  8.  A  truth  so  apparent  and  undenia- 
ble, that  Seneca  could  not  but  discern  it,  though  he 
was  an  unenlightened  heathen ;  could  not  but  ac- 
knowledge it,  though  he  was  one  of  the  proud  Stoic 
sect.  "  nac  conditione  nati  sumus,  animalia  obnoxia 
non  paucioribus  animi  quam  corporis  morbis."  De  Ira, 
lib.  2.  c.  9. 

t  Cyropaed.  lib.  fi. 

X  A  term  used  by  the  Italian  painters,  to  signify  a 
resemblance  horrid  or  ridiculous. 


ing  features  in  this  draught.  Not  barely  the 
works  of  his  hand,  or  the  words  of  his 
tongue,  but  the  "  imaginations  of  his  heart," 
are  evil.  The  contagion  has  spread  itself 
through  the  inner  man.  It  has  tainted  the 
seat  of  his  principles,  and  the  source  of  his 
actions.*  Is  there  not,  you  will  say,  some 
mixture  of  good  ?  No,  they  are  only  evil : 
There  is  no  hopeful  tendency :  Not  so  much 
as  a  little  leaven  of  piety,  that  may  have  a 
chance  to  diffuse  itself,  and  meliorate  the, 
whole  lump.  But  are  there  no  lucid  inter- 
vals ?  No  happy  moments,  when  virtue 
gains  the  ascendency  ?  None ;  he  is  only 
evil  continually.  The  usurpation  of  sin  is 
total,  and  its  tyranny  perpetual. 

What  I  have  advanced,  therefore,  is  no 
libel  upon  the  Creator's  benignity ;  because 
it  is  the  very  echo  of  his  own  determination. 
Neither  is  it  so  properly  discouraging,  as 
humbling  and  alarming  to  our  fellow-crea- 
tures :  Humbling,  to  make  us  sensible  of 
our  ruin ;  alarming,  to  make  us  desirous  of 
a  recovery. 

Ther.  Is  not  the  description  which  you 
have  produced  peculiar  to  the  men  of  that 
wicked  generation,  whose  guilt  was  as  un- 
paralleled as  their  punishment? 

Asp.  It  is  applicable  both  to  them  and 
their  successors.  The  wisdom  of  God  re- 
peats the  charge,  and  fixes  it  upon  the  race 
which  survived  the  flood.f  The  depravity 
of  human  nature  continued,  nor  could  the 
waters  of  an  universal  deluge  purge  it  away. 
So  deep,  alas  !  is  the  stain,  and  so  incorri- 
gible the  virulency  of  original  corruption, 
that  it  will  yield  to  nothing  ;  to  nothing  will 
it  yield,  but  to  the  "  washing  of  regenera- 
tion, and  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 
Tit.  iii.  5.  Till  this  takes  place,  every  heart 
of  man  must  wear  the  prophet's  stigmatizing 
motto,  "  Deceitful  above  all  things,  and 
desperately  wicked." 

Ther.  This  passage,  I  am  informed,  is 
not  rightly  translated,  especially  in  the  last 
expression.  The  Hebrew  original  does  not 
bear  so  hard  upon  the  human  character  as 
the  English  version. 

Asp.  You  allow  then  that  the  heart  is 
deceitfid.     And  of  this  we  have  a  glaring 


*  The  original  is  very  nice  in  its  structure,  and  no 
less  emphatical  in  its  meaning.  The  heart,  or  grand 
principle — the  thoughts  of  the  heart,  or  the  various 
actings  of  that  principle — the  imagination  of  the 
thoughts,  or  the  produce  and  result  of  those  actings  ; 
namely,  desires  and  affections,  counsels  and  purposes. 
Not  one,  a  few  only,  or  the  greatest  part,  but  all 
these  are  evil. 

\  Gen.  viii.  21.  Where,  I  think,  the  particle  is  used 
in  the  adversative,  not  the  casual  si^ification ;  and 
should  be  rendered  though,  rather  than  for — Where 
it  seems  likewise,  that  the  forbearance  of  the  righte- 
ous God  is  ascribed  to  the  great  atonement;  typified 
by  Noali's  burnt-offerings,  and  expressed  by  St.  Paul 
in  his  epistle  to  the  Ephesians ;  who  probably  alludes 
to  this  passage,  "  The  Lord  smelled  a  sweet  savour, 
and  the  Lord  said  in  his  heart,  I  will  not  again  curse 
the  earth  any  more  for  man's  sake,  though  the  ima- 
gination of  man's  heart  be  evil  from  his  youth,  Eph. 
V.  2, 


DIALOGUE  XI. 


275 


proof  in  the  conduct  of  Hazael.  He  thought 
it  impossible  that  he  should  ever  perpetrate 
such  horrid  barbarities  as  the  prophet  fore- 
saw. "  Is  thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he  should 
do  this  great  thing?''  2  Kings  viii.  13.  Yes, 
Hazael ;  however  thou  mayest  imagine  thy- 
self gentle  as  a  lamb,  thou  art  fierce  as  a 
dog,  and  savage  as  a  tiger :  Which  was 
most  terribly  demonstrated  by  the  event. 

Suppose  we  translate  the  other  word 
somewhat  more  accurately,  the  little  altera- 
tion will  be  of  less  service  to  your  cause. 
Instead  of  "  desperately  wicked,"  you  may, 
if  you  please,  read,  "  deplorably  disordered," 
Jer.  xvii.  3.  This  is  the  exact  import  of 
the  phrase.  It  is  a  metaphor  derived  from 
a  very  distempered  body,  in  which  the  whole 
head  is  sick,  and  the  whole  heart  faint : 
"  From  the  crown  of  whose  head  to  the 
sole  of  whose  feet,"  there  is  nothing  but 
consuming  disease  and  enfeebling  languors." 
The  rules  of  civility  may  set  a  specious  var- 
nish on  the  conversation,  but  until  grace, 
sanctifying  grace,  administers  the  remedy, 
the  most  civilized  heart  will  be  like  the  pale 
emaciated  cheek,  that  is  poorly  enlivened 
with  paint. 

Ther.  What  say  the  WTiters  of  the  New 
Testament  ?  Is  not  their  way  of  thinking 
more  liberal  and  benign  ?  If  human  nature 
wore  so  hideous  an  aspect  under  the  legal 
dispensation,  since  the  coming  of  our  Lord, 
and  the  publishing  of  his  gospel,  one  may 
expect  an  improved  and  more  pleasing  face 
of  things. 

Asp.  Human  nature,  in  every  period  of 
time,  and  under  every  dispensation  of  reli- 
gion, is  still  the  same.  It  was  the  Spirit  of 
Christ  who  indited  the  Old  Testament ; 
and  he  cannot  vary  from  himself  in  the  de- 
clarations of  the  New. 

I  am  very  much  inclined  to  believe  that 
all  the  bodily  diseases  which  our  divine 
Physician  healed,  during  his  abode  on  earth, 
were  so  many  emblematical  representations 
of  spiritual  disorders,  which,  like  certain 
family  distempers,  may  be  said  to  run  in  the 
blood  of  all  mankind.  Will  you  give  me 
leave,  Theron,  to  explain  myself?  I  do 
not  like  to  engross  the  discourse.  Yet  I 
would  willingly  enlarge  upon  this  subject. 

Titer.  By  all  means.  The  laws  of  argu- 
ment, separate  from  the  indulgences  of 
friendshij),  give  you  a  warrant  to  urge  what- 
ever may  support  your  cause.  Besides,  I 
will  be  glad  to  hear  your  sentiments  upon  a 
point  so  curious. 

Asp.  The  poor  leper,  covered  with 
noisome  sores,  is  the  very  picture  of  a  pol- 
luted sinner.  Was  the  one,  for  his  conta- 
gious impurities,  separated  from  the  society 


*  Isa.  i.  0.  Agreeable  to  this  doctrine,  ami  coiison- 
antto  this  nietavlior,  is  llie  confession  ofour Liturgy, 
"  There  is  no  health  in  us." 


of  his  fellow-citizens  ?  So  shall  the  other, 
for  his  abominable  uncleanness,  be  banished 
from  the  beatific  presence,  unless  he  be 
cleansed  by  the  blood,  and  justified  by  the 
righteousness  of  Jesus. 

You  pity  the  condition  of  that  unhappy 
creature  who  was  born  blind.  His  eyes 
rolled,  but  rolled  in  vain,  to  find  the  dawn- 
ing ray.  Such  is  the  benighted  state  of  the 
human  mind,  till  Almighty  goodness  com- 
mand the  scales  of  ignorance  to  fall  off,  and 
pour  heavenly  day  through  all  the  intellec- 
tual faculties.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  we 
begin  to  know  the  holiness,  the  justice,  the 
adorable  excellencies  of  God.  We  see  the 
sublime  purity  of  his  law,  and  the  extreme 
depravity  of  our  own  hearts.  We  are 
brought  acquainted  with  the  transcendent 
gloriee  of  our  Redeemer's  person,  and  ap- 
prehend that  most  comfortable  mystery  of 
his  substitution  in  our  stead.  We  discern 
the  ineffable  perfection  of  his  merits,  and 
the  divinely  rich  freeness  of  his  grace." 
Truths  incomparably  more  delightful  to  the 
soul,  than  all  the  delectable  scenes  of  crea- 
tion are  to  the  sight. 

The  paralytic's  enervated  limbs  too  truly 
represent  the  impotence  of  our  nature. 
Was  he  unable  to  grind  at  a  mill,  to  run  in 
a  race,  or  to  turn  himself  on  his  bed  ?  So 
imable  are  we  to  "  fight  the  good  fight  of 
faith,"  to  exercise  the  graces  of  Christian- 
ity, or  even  to  turn  ourselves  unto  God, 
Do  not  you,  my  friend,  experience  some- 
thing of  this  inability  ?  For  my  part,  1  must 
lay  my  hand  on  my  breast,  and  daily,  hour- 
ly confess,  "  The  palsy  is  here.  Though 
not  altogether  dead  in  sin,  (blessed  be 
Christ  Jesus,  and  his  quickening  Spirit !) 
yet  how  languid  is  my  zeal,  how  enfeebled 
my  industry,  in  the  great  affair  of  everlast- 
ing salvation  ! — I  would  fain  believe,  and 
with  a  full  assurance  of  faith,  the  promises 
of  the  unchangeable  Jehovah.  But  how 
often  do  I  stagger  through  unbelief! — I 
would  fain  love,  and  with  the  warmest  grati- 
tude, my  ever-merciful  and  most  beneficent 
God.  But,  oh  !  what  coldness  benumbs  my 
affections  !  I  wish  to  be  humble  in  every 
thought,  heavenly  in  all  my  desires,  and 
wholly  resigned  to  the  divine  will.  But, 
alas  !  my  stdliciency  for  these  things  is  like 
the  flaccid  sinew,  or  the  withered  arm." 

It  would  be  endless  to  jjartictilarize  all 
the  maladies,  which  were  cniblcms  of  our 
misery,  and  the  triumphs  of  oiu-  Lord's 
power.  Let  me  only  remark,  that  their 
bodies  were  afllicted  with  a  single  disorder, 
our  souls  labour  under  a  coniplication  of 


*  This,  anil  the  preicding  particulars,  are  lessons 
of  the  last  inijiorlaiuc  in  the  Christian  school.  The 
knowledfje  of  them  ikservta  to  be  most  solicitously 
sought,  both  by  alli  nlive  conteniplalion,  and  by  ear- 
nest prayer.  I'or  to  know  Iheni  is  to  be  truly  wise; 
to  be  intiuenred  by  them,  is  to  be  substantiallv  h.ap- 


276 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


evils.  They  felt  their  affliction,  and  were 
desirous,  importunately  desirous  of  relief. 
We  ai'e,  till  awakened  from  above,  insensi- 
ble of  our  calamitous  case.  We  add,  to 
all  our  other  indispositions,  a  stupifying  le- 
thargy, or  an  extravagant  delirium. 

Ther.  Such  allegorical  expositions  of 
Scripture  are  pretty  enough  ;  but,  1  pre- 
sume, you  yourself  cannot  reckon  them  de- 
monstrative. For  my  own  part,  1  must  ap- 
peal from  the  surmises  of  fancy  to  the  ver- 
dict of  reason. 

Asp.  I  cannot  think  that  the  allegorical 
sense,  when  soberly  introduced,  is  unworthy 
of  our  regard,  or  without  its  weight.  How- 
ever, I  have  no  design  to  preclude  your  ap- 
peal. Will  the  avowed,  will  the  reiterated 
decision  of  an  apostle,  satisfy  my  friend,  and 
be  admitted  as  the  verdict  of  reason  ?  St. 
Paul  has  declared  of  himself,  "  Li  me,  that 
is,  in  my  flesh,"  or  unrenewed  nature, 
"  dwelleth  no  good,"  (Rom.  vii.  18,)  no 
good  temper,  not  so  much  as  any  good  de- 
sire. Elsewhere  he  affirms,  that  the  "  carnal 
mind,"  or  unregenerate  soul,  "  is  not  sub- 
ject to  the  law  of  God,"  nay,  is  an  enemy, 
or  rather  enmity  itself.  (Roni.viii.  7.)  Against 
what  ? — Against  sin?  That  were  a  noble  an- 
tipathy.— Against  the  world  ?  That  were  a 
laudable  disaffection. — No  !  but  against  God 
and  his  law.  Amazing  perverseness  !  to  be 
enmity  against  God,  who  is  boundless  be- 
nignity and  consummate  goodness  ;  enmity 
against  his  law,  which  is  the  transcript  of 
his  amiable  perfections,  and  the  faultless 
model  of  all  virtue. 

Ther.  This,  I  suppose,  is  the  character 
of  Saul  the  Pharisee,  not  of  Paid  the 
apostle  ;  descriptive  of  his  condition  when 
he  was  "  a  blasphemer,  a  persecutor,  and 
injurious." 

Asp.  It  relates  not  to  himself  alone,  but 
is  applicable  to  all  who  continue  in  a  state 
of  nature.  The  blessed  author  of  our  be- 
ing, speaking  of  mankind  in  general,  says, 
that  "  he  is  even  flesh,"  mere  flesh,  altoge- 
ther flesh  ;*  his  very  soul  and  all  its  powers 
are  wholly  enslaved  to  fleshly  appetites. 
The  beneficent  Restorer  of  our  happiness 
pronounces  the  same  sentence  in  the  very 
same  words  :  "  That  which  is  born  of  the 
flesh,  is  flesh."  (John  iii.  6.)  The  facul- 
ties which  men  receive  by  their  natural 
birth  have  a  carnal  bias,  incline  to  nothing 


but  sordid  pleasures  and  ignoble  pursuits. 
Our  Saviour  reinculcates  the  admonition, 
and  illustrates  it  by  a  very  remarkable  allu- 
sion. You  cannot  forget  his  answer  to  a 
procrastinating  disciple,  "  Let  the  dead  biuy 
their  dead,"  (Matt.  viii.  22,)  intimating, 
that  as  many  as  are  unsanctified  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  though  possessed  of  an  animal,  are 
destitute  of  the  divine  life  ;  are  no  more  fit 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  for  its  converse 
or  its  joys,  than  a  pale  corpse  in  the  coffin, 
or  dry  bones  in  the  charnel-house,  are  qua- 
lified to  transact  any  secular  business. 

St.  Paul  sets  the  seal  of  heaven  to  this 
momentous  truth,  in  various  passages  of  his 
epistles.  From  a  multitude  let  me  select 
one,  and  recommend  it  to  your  serious  con- 
sideration :  "  You  that  were  sometime  alie- 
nated, and  enemies."  The  Colossians,  and 
all  mankind,  were  alienated  from  the  living 
God  ;  had  no  true  knowledge  of  him  ;  and, 
what  is  worse,  had  no  sincere  desire  after 
him.  Nay,  they  were  not  only  strangers, 
but  enemies  ;  in  a  state  of  hostility  to  his 
holy  natui'e  and  heavenly  will.  What  can 
express  a  greater  degeneracy  ?  Nothing,  un- 
less it  be  the  following  clause  :  "  By  a 
mind  intent  upon  wicked  works  ;*  a  mind, 
not  only  averse  to  all  good,  but  passionately 
prone  to  all  evil. 

Thei:  A  few  picked  passages,  of  a  figur- 
ative import,  and  artfully  clogged  by  some 
dexterous  interpretation,  may  seem  to  sup- 
port your  cause. 

Asp.  Ah  !  Theron,  there  is  no  need  to 
use  slight  of  hand.  He  that  runs  may 
read  this  doctrine  in  the  sacred  authors. 
It  is  interwoven  with  the  whole  series  of 
their  historical,  and  makes  a  professed  part 
of  their  practical  writings. 

What  is  more  common  with  the  inspired 
penmen,  than  to  express  a  profligate  course 
of  life  by  "  following  our  own  imaginations, 
and  walking  in  our  own  ways  ?"  When 
immorality  and  licentiousness  were  pre- 
dominant in  Israel,  knew  no  restraints,  and 
kept  no  bounds,  how  does  the  unerring 
historian  describe  this  horrible  state  of 
things  ?  "  Every  one  did  that  which  was 
right  in  his  own  eyes."t  Nothing  can 
more  strongly  imply  the  extreme  depravity 
of  mankind  than  such  a  phraseology,  which 
makes  it  one  and  the  same  thing  to  pursue 
our  natural  inclinations,  and  to  act  the  aban- 
doned sinner. 


»  Gen.  vi.  3.  The  word  flesh,  by  which  the  all- 
wise  Creator  characterises  m.in,  signifies,  in  the  sa- 
cred writings,  whatever  is  dishonourable  in  itself, 
provoking  to  God,  or  introductory  to  the  ruin  of 
man.  The  works  of  the  flesh  are  a  compendium  of 
all  iniquity.  Gal.  v.  19—21.  To  walk  after  the 
flesh,  is  the  very  reverse  of  walking  in  the  Spirit, 
diametrically  opposite  to  the  divine  law  and  true  ho- 
liness. Rom.  viii.  4.  To  be  carnally  minded,  or 
to  have  the  influence,  the  savour,  the  relish  of  the 
flesh  ((pjovJi^a  (T'i^Kos)  predominant  in  our  minds, 
is  the  spiritual  d«^lh  of  the  soul,  and  a  presage  of 
eternal  death,  both  in  body  and  soul.     Rom.  viii.  (i. 


*  Col.  i.  21.  T«  "iittvoiu.  iv  rois  t^yois  rots 
Trvupoi;  "  mente,  malis  operibus  intenta."  An  emi- 
nent critic  would  thus  point,  and  thus  translate  the 
words ;  and  assigns,  for  his  alteration,  the  following 
reason ;  "Mens  enim  dicilur  es«e  in  ea  requam  semper 
cogitat,  ad  quam  cupidine  fertur  et  inclinator."  Da- 
VENANT  in  lot:  Let  the  words  be  jiointed  and  trans- 
lated, either  in  this  or  the  received  manner,  they 
speak  the  language,  and  confirm  the  sentmients  of 
this  whole  Dialogue.  -   , ,  ,,    , 

t  Judg.  xviii.  6".— See  also  Psahn  Ixxx'.  liJ.  li.ecl.  xi 
y.  Acts  xiv.  10. 


DIALOG 

St.  JuJe  cannot  write  a  few  lines  but  he 
must  touch  upon  this  subject,  must  teach 
this  humbling  lesson  :  "  Sensual,"  he  says, 
"not  having  the  spirit,"  (Jude  19.)  Ac- 
cording to  his  estimate,  not  to  be  actuated 
by  the  power  of  especial  grace,  is  to  remain 
under  the  dominion  of  sensuality.  If  we 
may  credit  this  servant  of  Christ,  every 
man,  while  unrenewed  by  the  divine  Spirit, 
is  governed  by  flesh  and  sense.  Can  any 
man  then  pretend  to  be  originally  free  from 
the  influence  of  corruption  ? 

St.  Paul  exempts  not  himself,  no,  nor 
any  of  the  highest  saints,  from  the  oppro- 
brious charge  :  "  We  all  walked  according 
to  the  desires  of  the  flesh,  and  of  the 
mind-" — Which  desires  in  us,  as  well  as  in 
the  idolatrous  heathens,  were  base,  sordid, 
and  contaminating.  Insomuch  that  we 
who  are  Jews  by  birth,  who  are  sons  of 
God  by  our  new  birth,  even  we  were  "■  by 
nature  the  children  of  wrath."  (Eph-  ii. 
3.)  And  if  liable  to  wrath,  then  doubt- 
less subject  to  depravity,  and  chargeable 
with  sin. 

Ther.  What  says  St.  James  ?  You  have 
suppressed,  and  I  had  almost  forgot  his  tes- 
timony, though  it  is  so  very  pertinent  to 
my  purpose,  and  so  very  explicit  in  my  fa- 
vour :  "  Men,  who  are  made  after  the  si- 
militude of  God."  The  similitude  of  God 
signifies,  in  the  sacred  books,  those  moral 
endowments  which  distinguish  the  possessor 
both  from  the  brute  and  the  devil.  And 
if  men  are  made  after  this  image,  if  they 
are  created  with  these  endowments,  where 
is  your  doctrine  of  original  sin  ? 

Asp.  I  began  to  flatter  myself  that  your 
objections  were  exhausted.  But  since  I 
am  mistaken  in  this  particular,  surely  it 
must  be  as  great  a  mistake  to  imagine 
that  our  apostle  would  maintain  an  opinion 
so  repugnant  to  the  afore  mentioned  texts, 
and  so  contrary  to  universal  observation. 
Do  not  you  perceive  the  very  reverse  true 
with  regard  to  your  own  children  ?  Why 
do  you  address  them  with  such  tender  en- 
treaties, such  warm  exhortations,  such  re- 
peated arguments  ?  Why  do  you  allure 
them  to  duty  by  promises,  and  deter  them 
from  transgression  by  threatenings  ?  Is  all 
this  regimen,  all  this  discipline,  necessary 
for  creatures  that  beai'  the  holy  image  of 
God? 

They  "  made  after  the  similitude  of 
God  ?"  Then  they  have  no  need  of  the  re- 
newing influences  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  in 
case  they  live  ;  and  no  need  of  the  atone- 
ment of  Christ's  blood,  in  case  they  die. 
Would  Ja?nes,  the  Lord's  brother,  assert 
6uch  an  egregious  error,  as  not  only  oppos- 
es a  single  article,  but  undermines  the 
whole  constitution  of  Christianity  ?  sets  aside 
the  sanctification  of  the  divine  Spirit,  and 
the  propitiation  of  the  llcdeeniLM's  dwath  ?  [ 


UE   XL 


277 


Impossible  for  him  to  assert !  Impossible,  I 
should  think,    for  us  to  suppose  ! 

St.  James  speaks  of  a  fact  that  is  past ; 
speaks  of  men  collectively  as  they  were  all 
included  in  their  first  parent.  The  passage, 
I  apprehend,  should  be  translated,  not  men 
that  "  are,"  but  men  that  "  were"**  created, 
&c.  The  scripture  considers  Adam  as 
the  common  parent  of  us  all ;  nay  more, 
considers  us  all  as  existing  in  our  great 
progenitor  ;  which  is  so  far  from  overthrow- 
ing, that  it  establishes  the  point  in  debate. 
For  if  we  were  all  created  after  the  simi- 
litude of  God,  in  and  with  Adam  ;  it  must 
follow,  that  we  all  fell  from  our  conformity 
to  God  in  and  with  Adam.  And  if  so — 
let  me  for  once  retort  my  friend's  interroga- 
tory,— Where  is  not  original  sin  ? 

I  am  very  sure  it  runs  through  our  Li- 
turgy ;  is  an  essential  part  of  our  Articles  ; 
and  most  strongly  delineated  in  our  Homi- 
lies. Shall  I  produce  some  of  those  tes- 
timonies, which  are  as  clear  as  they  are  co- 
pious .^ 

Ther.  No  more  of  your  testimonies, 
good  Aspasio.  Inform  me  rather  what  ad- 
vantages can  accrue  from  your  inculcating, 
or  my  adopting,  such  a  doctrine.  Suppose 
it  were  undeniably  true,  disagreeable  truths, 
like  disagreeable  objects,  should  be  con- 
signed over  to  obscurity,  not  obtruded  upon 
our  view.  On  such  an  occasion,  the  re- 
ply of  Themistocles  should  be  mine.  One 
of  the  literati  of  Greece  ofl'ered  to  com- 
municate an  elaborate  and  curious  inven- 
tion, by  means  of  which  his  memory 
should  be  so  wonderfully  strengthened,  as 
to  retain  whatever  he  read  or  heard.  "  My 
friend,"  replied  the  hero,  ''  you  quite  mis- 
take the  way  to  serve  me.  I  want  to 
learn  the  art  not  of  remembering,  but  of 
forgetting." 

Asp.  If  to  forget  oui'  disease,  were  a 
likely  method  to  restore  our  health,  I  should 
readily  concur  in  yom'  hero's  way  of  think- 
ing. As  this  will  hardly  be  allowed,  I 
cannot  but  judge  it  more  advisable  to  re- 
member our  disease,  that  we  may  inquire 
after  a  remedy, 

Ther.   Where  is  this  remedy  to  be  iiad  ? 

Asp.  Not  on  earth,  but  from  heaven. 
The  schools  of  science  cannot  discover  it. 
The  courts  of  kings  are  unable  to  procure 
it.  The  college  of  physicians  know  not  how 
to  prescribe  it.  But  the  gospel  of  our  sal- 
vation prescribes,  prepares  and  dispenses 
it.  The  language  of  Christ  in  his  holy 
word  is,  "  I  will  bring  her  health  and  cm-e," 


•  Jam.  iii.  f).     That  this  is  the  precise  signification 
of  thei)articii)le7»>'«'0Ta;,  may  begailiercil  from  1 

Tim.  V.  r».  where  >''>""''"*  is  translated  hnvinaliecn  ; 
and  must  necessarily  refer,  not  to  th«  iirwent,  but  to 
the  past  iMmdiliou  of  the  wido-w. 


278 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


(Jer.  xxxiii.  6.)  And  the  beginning  of 
our  cure  is,  to  be  sensible  of  our  disorder. 

Hence  we  are  taught  to  be  humble.  To 
review  the  catalogue  of  our  actual  trans- 
gressions, is  a  mortifying  employ.  But  that 
which  lays  the  soul  in  the  lowest  abase- 
ment, is  the  conviction  of  inbred  iniquity. 
This  strikes  at  the  root  of  human  vanity, 
and  cuts  asunder  the  very  sinews  of  self- 
conceit.  Blindness  in  the  understanding, 
jmpotency  in  the  will,  disorder  in  the  affec- 
tions,— these  are  not  visitants,  but  inhabi- 
tants ;  *  congenial  with  our  frame,  and  in- 
grained in  our  constitution.      How  then, 

0  !  how  can  we  be  vain  of  our  moral  beauty, 
who  have  an  hereditary  defilement  cleaving 
to  all  our  faculties  ?  Surely  this  must  ban- 
ish the  Pharisee  from  our  breast,  and  inspire 
us  with  the  sentiments  of  that  sincere  pen- 
itent, "  Behold,  I  am  vile  !  (Job.  xl.  4.) ; 
must  teach  us  the  language  of  the  abashed 
leper,  "  Unclean  !  unclean!"  (Lev. xiii.  45.) 

Ther.  I  should  think  it  would  make  us 
melancholy  rather  than  humble ;  serve  no 
other  purpose  than  to  introduce  an  afilictive 
sense  of  extreme  wretchedness. 

Asp.  Did  we  intend  to  rest  here,  your 
apprehensions  would  be  just ;  but  we  urge 
the  doctrine  of  original  corruption  as  a  pre- 
parative for  the  Redemption  of  Christ. 

It  is  observable,  that  very  few  applied  to 
the  blessed  Jesus  in  the  days  of  his  flesh 
but  the  sons  and  daughters  of  affliction. 
The  levee  of  that  Prince  of  Peace  was 
crowded  by  the  lame,  the  blind,  the  diseas- 
ed. These  being  sensible  of  distress,  and 
longing  for  relief,  fell  as  humble  supplicants 
at  his  feet,  while  others,  who  were  firm  in 
their  health,  and  gay  in  their  spirits,  reject- 
ed him  with  contemptuous  scorn.  When 
we  perceive  "  the  plague  of  our  heart,"  and 
feel  those  worse  than  ulcerous  sores  which 
overspread  our  nature,  we  also  shall  ardent- 
ly seek  to  "  the  Lord  our  healer."  When  we 
find  ourselves  subject  to  the  curse  of  the 
law,  in  bondage  to  the  tyranny  of  Satan, 
and  liable  to  everlasting  damnation,  then 
the  divine  Physician,  and  the  divine  Re- 
deemer will  be  precious  indeed  :  whereas, 
if  we  remain  insensible  of  our  misery, 
the  gospel,  which  is  saving  health  to  the 
contrite  soul,  will  be  an  unaffecting  story 
to  our  ears  :  We  may  hear  it,  we  may  read 
it,  as  an  amusing  narrative ;  but  shall  not  re- 
ceive it  as  a  sovereign  remedy. 

Ther.   Not  receive  the  gospel,  Aspasio  ! 

1  hardly  understand  what  you  mean.  I  of- 
ten study  the  gospel ;  I  believe  it  to  be  a 
divine  revelation,  and  endeavour  to  follow 
its  directions.  I  look  upon  it  as  containing 
the  most  refined  system  of  morality  ;  as  en- 
forcing every  virtue,   by  the  strongest  roo- 


*  Called  therefore  »)<"««?«  sv  S|ao/aMagr(a,  <'sin 
that  dwellcth  in  me,"  Horn.  vii.  17 


tives,  and  recommending  all  by  the  most 
perfect  example. 

Asp.  To  which  you  should  add — as  re- 
vealing that  great  Mediator,  who  has  fulfill- 
ed  all  righteousness,  to  effect  our  justifica- 
tion ;  who  has  also  the  fulness  of  the  Spi- 
rit, to  accomplish  our  regeneration.  Oth- 
erwise, what  you  mention  is  infinitely  short 
of  the  gospel.  It  brings  no  glad  tidings  to 
fallen  creatures.  It  administers  no  succour 
to  ruined  sinners.  It  is  like  writing  a  copy 
for  the  blind,  or  setting  a  task  to  the  disa- 
bled ;  which  would  rather  be  an  insult  on 
their  impotence,  than  a  relief  of  their  distress. 

The  first  particular  I  wave  at  present- 
Only  let  me  ask  your  opinion  of  the  last ; 
which  is  a  grand  doctrine,  and  a  very  dis- 
tinguishing privilege  of  the  gospel  :  I 
mean  the  doctrine  and  the  privilege  of  spi- 
ritual regeneration  ;  exclusive  of  which,  all 
your  endeavours  to  possess  virtue,  and 
practise  morality,  will  be  no  better  than 
endeavours  to  fly  without  wings,  or  to  run 
without  feet. 

While  unimpressed  with  a  sense  of  our 
original  depravity,  we  shall  probably  sit 
down  contented  with  some  superficial  re- 
formation, and  not  aspire  after  a  renewal 
of  the  heart.  Civility  will  pass  for  sanctity, 
and  a  temperate  disposition  for  a  gracious 
habit.  Why  is  the  new  birth,  why  are  all 
the  saving  operations  of  the  blessed  Spirit, 
disregarded  by  some,  derided  by  others  ? 
Because  these  persons  are  insensible  of 
their  utter  inability  to  all  good  and  of  their 
abject  slavery  to  all  evil.  Therefore  they 
see  no  reason  for  this  divine  agency,  or  for 
that  universal  change. 

You  also,  my  dear  friend,  while  unac- 
quainted with  your  natural  corruption,  can- 
not apprehend  either  the  reasonableness  or 
the  necessity  of  being  "  renewed  in  the 
spirit  of  your  mind,"  (Eph.  iv.  23  )  But 
when  experience  has  taught  you  the  form- 
er, you  will  want  no  arguments  to  convince 
you  of  the  latter.  Can  creatures  who  are 
blind  in  their  understandings,  discern  the 
things  which  belong  to  their  eternal  peace  ? 
Can  creatures  who  are  dead  in  sin,  exercise 
the  graces  or  discharge  the  duties  of  a 
Christian  life  ?  Can  creatures  whose  hearts 
are  enmity  against  God,  either  delight  to  do 
his  will  here,  or  be  meet  for  his  beatific  pre- 
sence hereafter  ? 

Under  the  influence  of  such  convictions, 
that  new  biifh  which  the  gospel  of 
Christ  promises,  which  the  Spirit  of  God 
produces,  will  appear  as  necessary  for  your 
state,  and  be  as  welcome  to  your  soul,  as 
these  gentle  dews  are  necessary  for  the 
languishing  herbs,  and  welcome  to  the  thirsty 
soil. 

Ther.  The  dews,  though  refreshing  to 
the  flowers,  may  be  too  chilly  for  our  con- 
stitutions.     And  see  !   the  star  of  evening, 


DIALOGUE    XII. 


270 


oy  proclaiming  the  approach  of  night,  has 
given  us  a  warning  to  quit  our  ai'bour.  Some 
other  time  we  must  resume  this  inquiry ; 
for  I  am  by  no  means  satisfied  that  your 
theory  agrees  with  experience. 

Asp.  I  fear  I  have  already  kept  you  out 
too  long.  Let  me  just  observe  as  we  go  in, 
that  the  doctrine,  however  disagreeable  in 
itself,  is  conducted  to  an  advantageous  issue. 
It  is  productive  of  a  much  more  substantial 
consolation,  than  history  assigns  to  the  great 
but  exiled  Marius.  When  lie  fled  with  his 
ruined  circumstances,  to  linger  out  the  poor 
remains  of  life  among  the  ruins  of  Carthage, 
what  was  his  chief  support  ?  "  Contemplat- 
ing," says  the  historian,  "  that  famous  city 
in  the  dust,  he  was  the  less  afllicted  with 
his  own  downfall." 

We  have  not  been  put  off  with  such  cold 
comforts,  such  negative  benefits.  The  be- 
lief of  original  sin  has  a  tendency  to  make 
us  humble,  to  show  us  our  need  of  Christ, 
to  create  in  us  a  hunger  and  thirst  after  the 
renewing  influences  of  his  Spirit,  and  the 
justifying  merit  of  his  righteousness.  So 
that  it  must  be  owing  to  our  own  perverse - 
ness,  or  our  own  negligence,  if  we  do  not 
levy  a  tax  upon  our  loss,  and  rise  even  by 
our  fall. 


DIALOGUE  XIL 

The  sun  was  fiercely  bright,  and  the  sky 
without  a  cloud.  Not  a  breath  fanned  the 
woods,  nor  a  gale  curled  the  stream.  The 
fields,  exposed  to  all  the  fiery  beams,  were 
like  a  glowing  hearth.  The  little  birds, 
overcome  by  the  potent  influence,  lost,  for  a 
while,  their  tuneful  notes.  Nothing  was 
heard  in  the  garden  but  the  drowsy  hum  of 
bees,  and  the  moan-like  buz  of  winged  in- 
sects. All  nature  seemed  to  languish  -.  The 
flourishing  meads  looked  sickly  :  the  gayest 
blossoms  began  to  fade ;  the  sprightliest  ani- 
mals, if  not  reposed  under  some  cooling 
shelter,  panted  for  breath,  and  hung  their 
drooping  heads,  amidst  the  all-surrounding 
blaze  and  the  unsufferable  heat.  Aspasio 
disappeared  ever  since  dinner,  and  none  could 
tell  whither  he  was  gone.  Theron,  as  soon 
as  the  tea  equipage  was  removed,  took  his 
way  to  the  wood.  Desirous  of  the  thickest 
shade,  he  hastened  to  the  centre.  A  ser- 
pentine walk  composed  the  avenue ;  which, 
after  several  windings,  delivered  him  into  a 
large  circular  area,  not  covered  with  a  Gre- 
cian or  Roman  temple,  unmeaning  imita- 
tion of  pagan  idolatry,  but  surrounded  with 
aged  and  princely  oaks;  the  coalition  of 
whose  branches  threw  over  the  grassy  plat 
a  mnjestic,  rural  dome,  and  their  unpierced 
foliage  "  imbrowned  the  noontide  hours." 


In  the  midst,  and  elevated  on  a  squiire 
base,  was  a  statue  representing  the  venerable 
Elijah  on  his  bended  knees,  with  hands 
stretched  out,  and  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven. 
His  attitude,  his  air,  his  every  feature,  were 
a  most  lively  comment  on  those  strong  ener- 
getic expressions  of  scripture,  "take  hold  on 
God,"  (Isa.  Ixiv.  7.)  "  Wrestle  with  the 
Almighty;*  Pour  out  your  hearts  before 
him,"  (Psalm  Ixii.  8.)  On  one  side  of  the 
pedestal  were  engraven  the  priests  of  ]3aal, 
in  frantic  emotions  calling  upon  their  sense- 
less deity,  and  gashing  themselves  with  un- 
availing  wounds.  On  the  other  was  exhi- 
bited, in  basso-relievo,  the  adoring  Tish- 
bite's  altar  j  his  victim  burning  with  fire 
from  the  Lord,  even  while  the  water  ran 
from  every  limb,  and  overflowed  the  trench 
below. 

A  remote  cascade  tumbled  from  a  craggy 
rock.  The  stream,  after  having  wasted  its 
silver  foam  in  a  winding  progress,  straggled 
into  this  grand  arbom*.  Here  it  just  ap- 
peared gliding  down  a  gentle  slope,  with  a 
flaunting  air,  and  a  prattling  noise.  Im- 
pressed, as  it  were,  with  the  unexpected  so- 
lemnity of  the  scene,  it  seemed  to  check 
its  wanton  waves,  and  turned  aside  into 
a  more  sequestered  path.  As  some  heed- 
less trifler,  who  bolts  unawares  into  the  roy- 
al presence,  stands  struck  with  reverence 
and  iiwe,  or  retires  with  precipitance  and 
confusion. 

The  deep  gloom,  shedding  a  kind  of  night 
even  while  the  sun  glared  in  the  sky ;  not 
a  whisper  stirring  among  so  many  millions  of 
leaves  ;  and  all  their  warbling  natives  hushed 
in  silence, — the  sonorous  toll  of  the  distant 
cascade,  and  the  tinkling  chime  of  the  nearer 
rill, — the  profound  adoration,  and  fervent 
devotion,  which  lived  in  the  lineaments  of 
the  impassioned  stone  :  all  these  cireum  - 
stances  rendered  the  place  prodigiously 
august  and  striking.  Not  much  unlike  the 
ancient  oratories,  where  holy  people  retired 
from  the  giddy  ring,  and  the  bustling  crowd, 
to  ennoble  their  minds,withsublime  contem- 
plation, where  they  bid  a  temporary  adieu  to 
the  tumultuous  world,  its  gay  impertinence 
and  solemn  dulness,  in  order  to  maintain  a 
more  uninterrapted  communion  with  that 
mighty  Being,  who  "  sitteth  upon  the  circle 
of  the  earth,  and  the  inhabitants  thereof  aie 
as  grasshoppers  before  him.f 


*  Col.  iv.  12.  ^y^i'/^^'Oi  f  ■'■"'S  ^^naiu^ai:. 

t  Isa.  xl.  22.  What  a  noble  image  is  here,  and  what 
an  exquisitely  fine  contrast !  God,  the  great  fJod, 
sitteth  on  those  lofty  and  immense  heavens,  which ,  at 
an  inconceivable  distance,  surround  this  pensile  globe. 
From  that  most  sublime  and  magnificent  throne,  he 
looks  down  upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  who, 
in  all  their  pomp  and  splendotir,  amidst  all  their 
admired  works  and  boasted  acquisitions,  are  mean 
and  impotent  in  his  sight, — mean  and  impotent  as 
the  poor  insects  which  wander  over  the  parched 
healh  for  sustenance,— whichspendall  the  day  in  idle 
insignificant  chirpings;  and  at  night  lake  up  their 
comcmi'tiblc  habitation  on  a  blade  of  grass. 


280 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Welcome  to  Theron  wns  theshiulyliowerj 
welcome  the  cool  aspect  hikI  the  luusiral 
flow  of  the  water  ;  but  more  welcome  than 
all  was  the  sight  of  his  friend,  who  lay  re- 
clined at  the  foot  of  an  oak,  with  a  book 
half  open  in  his  hand,  and  his  eye  fixed  up- 
on the  statue. 

Ther.  I  know  not,  Aspasio,  whether  I 
must  make  an  apology  for  breaking  in  upon 
your  retirement ;  or  call  you  to  an  account, 
for  depriving  the  ladies  of  your  company  at 
the  tea-table. 

Asp.  Indeed,  Theron,  I  have  been  so 
wuch  delighted  with  the  place,  with  the  com- 
panion in  my  hand,  and  the  noble  ob- 
ject before  me,  that  I  scarce  observed  how 
the  time  stole  away.  And  I  flatter  myself, 
if  you  willtakea  seat  by  myside,and  share  my 
entertainment,  you  will  be  more  inclined  to 
excuse  than  to  aggravate  my  fault. 

Ther-  Is  Tully  then  (for  I  observe  his 
name  on  the  volume)  your  companion  ? 
And  can  such  a  devoted  admirer  of  the  Bi- 
ble be  so  highly  charmed  with  a  Heathen 
classic  ?  St.  Augustine  somewhere  declares, 
that  though  passionately  fond,  before  his  con- 
version, of  Tully's  writings,  yet  after  that 
memorable  change  he  could  no  longer  relish 
those  admired  compositions ;  because  they 
were  not  sweetened,  as  he  expresses  himself, 
with  the  melifluous  name  of  Jesus. 

Asp.  I  am  far  from  pretending  to  such  an 
exalted  pitch  of  devotion  as  that  seraphic 
father  attained.  I  can  spend  a  vacant  minute 
on  the  delicate  odes  of  Horace,  and  taste  a 
refined  entertainment  in  Virgil's  beautiful 
poem.  But  when  I  hear  a  sermon,  or  peruse 
a  religious  treatise,  which  borrows  neither 
dignity  nor  charms  from  that  amiable  and 
glorious  name,  I  own  myself  extremely  dis- 
appointed. Without  the  offices,  the  merits 
or  the  grace  of  Christ,  the  sermon  and  the 
treatise  appear  as  defective,  as  a  body  that  is 
neither  adorned  with  the  head  nor  enlivened 
with  the  heart. 

Ther.  I  suppose  then  you  cultivate  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Grecian  and  Roman 
authors,  in  order  to  improve  your  taste,  and 
polish  your  style. 

Asp.  These,  and,  I  am  apt  to  think,  more 
considerable  advantages  than  these,  may  be 
derived  from  an  occasional  application  to  their 
works.  They  may  serve  as  so  many  shades, 
to  set  off  with  heightened  lustre  the  beauty 
qnd  glory  of  the  sacred  oracles. 

While  I  peruse  Plato's  ornamented  page, 
or  listen  to  Cicero's  flowing  periods,  I  am 
somewhat  like  the  person  who  amuses  him- 
self in  a  gallery  of  painted  flowers.  He  is 
pleased  with  the  curious  creation  of  the  pen- 
cil ;  but  finds  none  of  that  delicious  ft-agrance, 
none  of  those  breathing  sweets,  which  meet 
him  in  the  garden,  and  regale  his  sense,  from 
the  blooming  parterre.  So  here  are  bril- 
liuiitseiitinient^  and  a  florid  diction;  di-liwitf 


touches  of  wit.  and  bold  strokes  of  descrip- 
tioi!  :  But  no  discovery  of  Christ  Jesus,  no 
displays  of  his  inefl'able  love,  no  overtures 
of  reconciliation  with  the  blessed  God  ;  no- 
thing to  yield  us  solid  comfort  in  our  pre- 
sent state,  or  any  joyful  expectations  with 
regard  to  the  approactiing  eternity. 

Besides,  when  I  converse  with  those  cele- 
brated geniuses  of  antiquity,  who  were  at 
once  the  most  erroneous  and  the  most  judi- 
cious— the  most  judicious  in  their  taste  of 
polite  literature  the  most  erroneous  in  their 
apprehensions  of  invisible  things — they  show 
me,  what  they  never  intended,  the  inexpres- 
sible need  of  revelation.  They  teach  me  to 
set  a  higher  value  on  that  inestimable  gift. 
I  bless  the  distinguishing  goodness  of  provi- 
dence, which  has  cast  my  lot,"  not  at  Athens, 
but  in  Emmanuel's  land.  I  say,  with  won- 
der and  gratitude,  "  Why  did  not  my  exist- 
ence commence  in  those  eras  of  religious 
dotage  ?  Why  was  not  my  portion  confined 
to  those  regions  of  barbarism  and  delusion  ? 
Why  am  not  I  burning  incense  to  idols,  pay- 
ing senseless  adoration  to  sculptured  stone, 
or  worshipping,  with  detestable  ceremonies, 
a  set  of  lascivious,  debauched,  and  scanda- 
lousf  deities  ?" — Surely,  Theron,  from  every 
perusal  of  those  volumes,  attended  with  such 
a  reflection,  we  shall  see  the  utmost  reason 
to  magnify  "  the  tender  mercies  of  our  God  ; 
whereby  the  day-spring  from  on  high  hath 
visited  us ;"  (Luke  i.  78.)  and  brought  us 
out  of  darkness  into  the  marvellous  light  of 
the  gospel. 

Permit  me  to  mention  another  benefit  which 
may  result  from  a  correspondence  with  those 
masterly  writers.  The  streams  may  lead  us 
to  the  inexhaustible  fountain  ;  lead  us  to  ad- 
mire the  only  wise  God  our  Saviour,  who 
has  given  such  a  shining  vein  of  ingen  uity  to 
his  rational  creatures.  As  I  read  their  works, 
and  am  charmed  with  their  beauties,  I  would 
frequently  reflect — "  If  the  essays  of  a  finite 
mind,  and  the  compositions  of  a  mortal  pen, 
yield  such  high  satisfaction,  what  rapturous, 
what  unknown  delight  must  arise  from  an 
uninterrupted  communion  with  Infinite  Wis- 
dom  !  To  stand,  not  at  the  feet  of  Homer, 
and  attend  the  flights  of  his  elevated  imagi- 
nation ;  not  in  the  presence  of  Socrates,  and 


*  Alluding  to  the  story  of  the  philosopher,  who 
used  to  bless  the  gods  for  three  privileges; — That  he 
was  made  not  a  brute,  but  a  rational  creature — That 
he  was  born  not  in  barbarous  climes,  but  in  Greece— 
That  he  lived  not  in  the  more  uncultivated  ages,  but 
in  the  time,  and  under  the  tuition  of  Socrates. 

+  This,  I  thmk,  gives  us  the  most  deplorable  and 
horrid  idea  of  the  blindness  of  our  fallen  nature. 
The  Heathens,  even  amidst  all  thepoliteness  of  their 
taste,  and  notwithstanding  their  superior  advance- 
ment in  the  sciences,  where  liaters  of  the  true  God, 
and  robbed  him  of  his  honour ;  nay,  what  is  un- 
speakably worse,  they  paid  it  to  monsters — monsters 
of  lewdness  and  treachery,  vice  and  immorality. 
Egregious,  sottish,  abnost  incredible  stupidity  !  to 
worship  those  beings,  which  deserved  univcrsnl  al>- 
liorrence  !  to  defy  those  characters,  wliich  could  no- 
v«r  be  sulficicntly  detested. 


hoar  the  dictntes  of  his  sagacious  soul ;  but 
to  stand  in  tlie  courts  of  the  Lord,  and 
before  the  throne  of  the  Lamb,  there  to 
contemplate,  without  any  interposing  veil, 
the  counsels  of  his  unerring  providence  ;  to 
have  the  mysteries  of  his  redeeming  love 
laid  fully  open  to  our  view  ;  and  receive  the 
brightest  manifestations  of  all  his  amiable, 
his  adorable,  his  unspeakable  attributes  ?" 

Ther.  These  are  advantages  truly  desira- 
ble, and  equally  obvious.  Methinks,  it  sur- 
prises me  that  I  should  never  so  much  as 
propose  them,  and  grieves  me,  that  I  should 
so  long  be  deprived  of  them.  A  view  to 
such  very  superior  improvements  will,  I 
hope,  render  my  future  intercourse  with 
those  favourite  authors  still  more  agreeable, 
and  abundantly  more  beneficial. — But  let 
me  ask,  what  passage  was  engaging  your  at- 
tention this  afternoon  ? 

Asp.  The  great  orator's  treatise  concern- 
ing the  "  Nature  of  the  divine  Being  ;"* 
that  part  especially  which  proves  his  exist- 
ence and  perfections  from  the  formation  of 
the  human  body. 

Ther.  And  do  you  not  perceive,  that  he 
is  almost  as  deficient  in  the  knowledge  of 
his  subject,  as  he  is  mistaken  in  his  ideas  of 
the  Supreme  Cause  .•'  The  exquisite  con- 
trivance and  inimitable  workmanship  of  the 
human  frame  were,  in  those  early  ages,  but 
dimly  discerned.  It  was  the  infancy  of  an- 
atomy, when  the  very  professors  had  scarcely 
the  qualifications  of  a  modern  pupil.  Many 
of  the  received  notions  were  childish,  almost 
all  of  them  supeificial. 

Ah]}.  Will  my  Theron  then  entertain  me 
with  a  more  accurate  description  of  this 
wonderful  structure  ? 

Tlier-  How  could  you  take  occasion,  As- 
pasio,  from  the  hint  1  dropped,  to  conceive 
any  such  expectation  ?  It  is  one  thing  to 
discover,  another  to  correct,  what  is  amiss. 
Many  spectators  can  point  out  an  accidental 
defect  in  some  celebrated  statue,  or  a  small 
indelicacy  in  some  valuable  piece  of  paint- 
ing, who  are  absolutely  incapable  of  retouch- 
ing the  one  or  supplying  the  other. 

Asp.  Since  we  are  fallen  upon  this  point, 
you  must  give  me  leave  to  renew  and  urge 
my  request.  1  shall  be  extremely  glad  to 
hear  your  remarks  upon  the  subject,  especi- 
ally as  you  have  made  this  branch  of  science 
a  part  of  your  amusement,  and  not  without 
the  advantage  of  anatomical  dissections  ; 
whereas  1  have  very  seldom  applied  my 
thoughts  to  the  former,  and  never  had  an 
opportunity  of  being  present  at  the  latter. 

Let  me  also  observe,  that  our  very  situa- 
tion favours,  or  rather  suggests,  such  a  topic 
of  conversation.  All  the  fine  prospects  of 
the  country  are  excluded.  We  h.ive  scarce 
any  thing  left  but  ourselves  to  contemplate. 


DIALOGUE  Xn.  281 

And  shall  this  be  the  only  theme  we  ne- 
glect ? 

Ther.  It  is  somewhat  preposterous,  I 
must  confess,  to  pry  into  the  archives  of 
colleges,  to  ransack  the  cabinets  of  the 
virtuosi,  to  carry  our  search  through  the 
whole  compass  of  external  nature,  and  at 
the  same  time  overlook  the  far  more  sur- 
prising curiosities  which  abound  in  the  com- 
position of  our  own  bodies — Since  you  in- 
sist upon  it,  my  observations,  crude  and  ex- 
temporaneous as  they  are,  shall  submit 
themselves  to  your  judgment,  provided  you 
wdl  be  content  to  receive  only  a  few  of  the 
outlines,  and  nothing  like  a  finished  draught. 

Asp.  Let  me  just  hint,  that  the  more 
circumstantial  your  account  is,  so  much  the 
more  welcome  will  it  be  to  your  friend,  and 
so  much  the  more  honourable  to  our  com- 
mon Creator.  For  I  really  think,  that  Ga- 
len's declaration  upon  this  head  is  perfectly 
just ;  which  I  have  read  in  my  favourite 
commentator  Beza,  and  which  speaks  to  the 
following  effect  :* — "  Such  treatises  as  dis- 
play the  excellencies  of  the  great  Creator, 
compose  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  ac- 
ceptable hymns.  To  acquaint  ourselves 
with  his  sublime  perfections,  and  point  out 
to  others  his  infinite  power,  his  unerring 
wisdom,  and  his  bomidless  benignity  ;  this 
is  a  more  substantial  act  of  devotion  than  to 
slay  hecatombs  of  victims  at  his  altar,  or 
kindle  mountains  of  spices  into  incense." — ' 
Theron,  after  pausing  a  few  minutes,  thus 
resumed  the  discourse. 

Ther.  When  some  master  builder  under 
takes  to  erect  a  magnificent  edifice,  he  begins 
with  the  less  decorated,  but  more  solid  parts 
— those  which  are  to  support,  or  those 
which  are  to  contain  the  rest.  This  order, 
if  you  please,  we  will  follow  in  considering 
"  the  earthly  house  of  our  tabernacle."  2 
Cor.  V.  i. 

First,  you  have  a  system  of  bones,  cast 
into  a  variety  of  moulds,  enlarged  or  con- 
tracted into  a  variety  of  sizes.  All  strong, 
that  they  may  commodiously  bear  up  the 
fleshy  machine  ;  yet  light,  that  they  may 
not  depress  the  anim.al  with  an  encumbering 
load.  Bored  with  an  internal  cavity,  to 
contain  the  moistening  marrow,  and  perfo- 
rated with  exceedingly  fine  ducts,  to  admit 
the  nourishing  vessels.  Insensible  them- 
selves, they  are  covered  with  a  membranef 
of  exquisite  sensibility,  which  warns  them 
of  the  approach,  and  secures  them  from  the 
annoyance,  of  any  injurious  friction  ;  and  at 
the  same  time  preserves  the  muscular  ])arts 
from  being  fretted  in  their  action  by  the 
hard  and  rough  substance  of  the  bones. 
Their  figures  are  always  most  precisely  fitted 
totheir  uses.  They  are  generally  larger  at  the 
extremities   than  in  the  midiile,   that  they 


»  Ue  Nr.tura  Deorum. 


•    VidK  Hez.  Annot  ail  Horn.  i.  20. 
t  Ttic  iieriosteiim. 


282 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


may  be  joined  more  fimnly,  and  not  so  easily 
dislocated.  The  manner  of  their  articula- 
tion is  truly  admirable,  and  remarkably  va- 
rious ;  yet  never  varied  without  demonstrat- 
ing some  wise  design,  and  answering  some 
valu;ible  end.  Frequently,  when  two  are 
united,  the  one  is  nicely  rounded  and  caped 
with  a  smooth  substance  ;  the  other  is 
scooped  into  a  hollow  of  the  same  dimen- 
sions, to  receive  the  polished  knob ;  and 
both  are  lubricated  with  an  unctuous  fluid, 
to  yield  the  readiest  rotation  in  the  socket. 

The  feet  compose  the  firmest  and  neatest 
pedestal,  infinitely  beyond  all  that  statuary 
or  architecture  can  accomplish  ;  capable  of 
altering  its  form,  and  extending  its  size,  as 
different  circumstances  require.  Besides 
performing  the  office  of  a  pedestal,  they 
contain  a  set  of  the  nicest  springs,  which 
help  to  place  the  body  in  a  variety  of  grace- 
ful attitudes,  and  qualify  it  for  a  multiplicity 
of  advantageous  motions.  The  undermost 
part  of  the  heel,  and  the  extremity  of  the 
sole,  are  shod  with  a  tough,  insensible,  si- 
newy substance.  This  we  may  call  a  kind 
of  natural  sandal :  It  never  wears  out,  never 
wants  repair,  and  always  prevents  that  un- 
due compression  of  the  vessels  which  the 
weight  of  the  body,  in  walking  or  standing, 
might  otherwise  occasion.  The  legs  and 
thighs  are  like  substantial  and  stately  co- 
lumns ;"  articulated  in  such  a  manner,  that 
they  administer  most  commodiously  to  the 
act  of  walking,  yet  obstruct  not  the  easy 
posture  of  sitting.  The  legs  swell  out  to- 
wards the  top,  with  a  gentle  projection  ;  and 
are  wrought  off  towards  the  bottom  with 
neat  diminutions ;  which  variation  lessens 
their  bulk,,  at  the  same  time  that  it  increases 
their  beauty. 

The  ribs,  turned  into  a  regular  arch,  are 
gently  moveable,  for  the  act  of  respiration. 
They  form  a  secure  lodgment  for  the  lungs 
and  the  heart,  which  being  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  and  important  organs  of 
life,  have  their  residence  fortified  by  this 
strong  semicircular  rampart.f  The  back- 
bone is  intended,  not  only  to  strengthen  the 
body,  and  sustain  its  most  capacious  store- 
rooms, but  also  to  bring  down  that  commu- 
nication of  the  brain,  which  is  usually  term- 
ed the  spinal  marrow.  As  an  open  channel, 
it  conveys — as  a  well-closed  case,  it  guards 
— this  vital  silver  ;f  and,  by  several  com- 
modious outlets,  transmits  the  animating 
treasure  into  all  the  inferior  parts.  Had  it 
only  been  large,  straight  and  hollow,  it  might 


»  styled  therefore  by  the  sacred  philosopher,  "  the 
strong  men,"  Eccl.  xii.  3,  and  compared  by  the  same 
beautiful  writer  to  pillars  of  marble.    Cant.  v.  15.  " 

t  "  Thou  hast  fenced  me,"  secured  ray  Inward  and 
vital  parts,  "  with  bones  and  sinews."  Job  x.  11 
"  Crates  pectoris,"  is  Virgil's  expression. 

J  This  is  supposed  to  be  the  part  which  Solomon 
describes  by  the  silver  cord,  and  is  indeed  like  a 
cord,  on  accoimt  of  its  shape ;  like  silver,  on  account 
of  its  colour.    Eccl.  xii.  6, 


have  served  these  several  purposes,  but 
then  the  loins  must  have  been  inflexible,  and 
every  man  impaled  (not  by  the  executioner, 
but  by  nature)  on  a  stake  coeval  with  his 
existence.  To  avoid  which,  it  consists  of 
very  short  bones,  closely  knit  together  by 
intervening  cartilages.  This  peculiarity  of 
structure  prevents  dislocation,  and  gives  the 
main  pillar  of  our  frame  the  pliancy  of  an 
osier,  even  while  it  retains  the  firmness  of 
an  oak.  By  this  means,  it  is  a  kind  of  con> 
tinued  joint,  capable  of  various  inflections, 
without  bruising  the  soft  medullary  sub- 
stance which  fills  its  cavity,  without  inter- 
cepting the  nervous  fluid  which  is  to  be  de- 
tached from  this  grand  reservoir,  or  dimin- 
ishing that  strength  which  is  necessary  to 
support  all  the  upper  stories.  A  formation 
so  very  peculiar  in  any  other  of  the  solids, 
must  have  been  attended  with  great  incon- 
veniences :  here  it  is  unspeakably  service- 
able— is,  both  for  workmanship  and  situa- 
tion, a  master-piece  of  creating  skill  never 
enough  to  be  admired. 

The  arms,  pendent  on  either  side,  are 
exactly  proportioned  to  each  other,  that  the 
equilibrium  of  the  structure  may  not  be  dis- 
concerted. These  being  the  guards  which 
defend,*  and  the  ministers  which  serve  the 
whole  body,  are  fitted  for  the  most  diversi- 
fied and  extensive  operations ;  firm  with 
bone,  yet  not  weighty  with  flesh,  and  capa- 
ble of  performing,  with  singular  expedition 
and  ease,  all  manner  of  useful  motions. 
They  bend  inwards,  and  turn  outwards  ; 
they  rise  upwards,  and  stoop  downwards ; 
they  wheel  about,  and  throw  themselves 
into  whatever  direction  we  please.  To 
these  are  annexed  the  hands,  and  all  termi- 
nated by  the  fingers ;  which  are  not,  like 
the  arms,  of  the  same  length,  and  of  an  equal 
bigness,  but  in  both  respects  different,  which 
gives  them  a  more  graceful  appearance,  and 
a  much  greater  degree  of  usefulness.  Were 
they  all  flesh,  they  would  be  comparatively 
impotent;  were  they  one  entire  bone,  they 
would  be  utterly  inflexible  ;  but  consisting 
of  various  little  bones,  and  a  multitude  of 
muscles,  what  shape  can  they  not  assume  ? 
what  service  can  they  not  perform  ?  Being 
placed  at  the  end  of  the  arm,  the  sphere  of 
their  action  is  exceedingly  enlarged.  This 
advantageous  situation  realizes  the  fable  of 
Briareus,  and  renders  a  pair  of  hands  as 
serviceable  as  an  hundred.  The  extremities 
of  the  fingers  are  an  assemblage  of  fine  ten- 
dinous fibres,  most  acutely  sensible,  j-  which. 


•  Called  in  Solomon's  figurative  but  elegant  sketch 
of  anatomy,  "  the  keepers  of  the  house."  Eccl. 
xii.  3. 

t  So  very  acute  is  the  sensibility  of  these  parts, 
that  I  am  informed  it  furnishes  the  tribunal  of  the 
Inquisition  with  one  of  the  most  refined  expedients 
in  the  art  of  torture.  A  strong  quill,  sharpened  by 
the  penknife,  and  dipped  in  some  infiammaljle  li- 
quor, is  thrust  deep  between  the  nail  and  the  finger 


DIALOGUE  XII. 


283 


notwithstanding  the  delicacy  of  their  tex- 
ture, are  destined  to  almost  incessant  em- 
ploy, and  frequently  exercised  among  rug- 
ged objects.  For  this  reason,  they  are  over- 
laid with  the  nails,  a  sort  of  horny  expan- 
sion, which,  like  a  ferule,  hinders  the  flesh 
from  being  ungracefully  flattened  ;  and  like 
a  sheath  preserves  the  tender  parts  from  in- 
jurious impressions. 

In  the  ministry  of  the  hands  and  activity 
of  the  fingers,  we  possess  a  case  of  the  finest 
instruments,  or  a  collection  of  the  noblest 
utensils  qualifying  us  for  the  execution  of 
every  work  which  the  projecting  genius  can 
devise,  or  the  lavish  fancy  crave.  To  these 
we  are  obliged  for  the  beautiful  statues, 
which  have  often  entertained  our  eyes  in 
yonder  solitary  walks ;  and  even  for  that 
melodious  trumpet,  which  now  addresses 
our  ears  from  the  summer-house  on  the  fish- 
pond. These  raise  the  lofty  column,  and 
turn  the  spacious  arch.  These  swell  the 
majestic  dome,  and  adjust  the  commodious 
apartment.  Architecture,  with  all  her 
striking  beauties,  and  all  her  rich  benefits, 
is  the  creation  of  the  human  hand.  Yield- 
ing to  the  strength  of  the  hand,  the  tallest 
firs  fall  to  the  ground,  and  the  largest  oaks 
descend  from  the  mountains.  Fashioned 
by  the  dexterity  of  the  hand,  they  accom- 
modate the  sailor  with  a  floating  warehouse  ; 
and  circulate,  from  Britain  to  Japan,  the 
productions  of  nature  and  the  improvements 
of  art.  Obedient  to  the  human  hand,  metals 
ascend  from  their  subterranean  beds,  and 
compose  the  most  substantial  parts  of  that 
curious  machine,*  which  transmits  far  and 
near,  to  the  monarch's  palace,  and  to  the 
peasant's  hut,  such  treasures  of  wisdom  and 
knowledge,  "  as  the  gold  and  crystal  cannot 
equal."  Job  xxviii-  17. 

Among  the  Egyptians,  the  hand  was  the 
symbol  of  strength  ;  among  the  Romans  it 
was  an  emblem  of  fidelity ;  and  I  think  it 
may,  among  all  nations,  be  looked  upon  as  the 
ensign  of  authority,  it  is  the  original  and 
the  universal  sceptre  ;  that  which  not  only 
represents,  but  ascertains,  our  dominion 
over  all  the  elements,  and  over  every  crea- 
ture. Though  providence  has  not  given  us 
the  strength  of  the  horse,  the  swiftness  of 
the  grey-hound,  or  the  sagacious  scent  of 
the  spaniel,  yet,  directed  by  the  understand- 
ing, and  enabled  by  the  hand,  we  can  sub- 
ject them  to  our  will,  turn  them  to  our  ad- 
vantage, and,  in  this  sense,  make  them  all 
our  own.  These  hands,  (surprising  to  re- 
late!) these  short  hands,  have  found  out  a 


When  the  quill  has  cut  its  way  through  the  shivering 
nerves,  ami  stands  planted  like  a  dagger,  amidst  the 
gushing  blood,  some  barbarous  hand  sets  fire  to  the 
extremity.  The  keen  point,  the  slow  dame,  and  both 
in  the  seat  of  the  most  lively  sensation,  put  tjie  mi- 
serable sutl'erer  to  the  most  excruciating  pain. 
•  The  printiug-press. 


way,  whereby  they  can  dive  to  the  bottom 
of  the  ocean,  can  penetrate  the  bowels  of  the 
earth,  and  reach  from  shore  to  shore.  These 
feeble  hands  can  manage  the  wings  of  the 
wind,  can  arm  themselves  with  the  rage  of 
the  fire,  and  press  into  their  service  the  for- 
cible impetuosity  of  the  waters.  How  emi- 
nent is  the  dignity,  how  extensive  the  agen- 
cy of  the  hand  !  It  would  require  more 
eloquence  than  your  orator  possessed  to  dis- 
play the  former,  and  more  pages  than  your 
book  contains,  to  describe  the  latter.  How 
greatly  then  are  we  indebted  to  our  indul- 
gent Creator  for  accommodating  us  with 
this  noble,  this  distinguishing,  this  invalua- 
ble member ! 

Above  all  is  the  head,  a  majestic  dome, 
designed  for  the  residence  of  the  brain.  It 
is  framed  in  exact  conformity  to  this  impor- 
tant purpose ;  ample,  to  receive  it,  strong 
to  uphold  it,  and  firm  to  defend  it.  As  the 
head  resembles  the  general's  tent  in  an  ar- 
my, or  the  monarch's  palace  in  a  city,  it  has 
a  commimication  established  with  all,  even 
the  most  inferior  and  remote  parts  of  the 
system  ;  has  outlets  and  avenues,  for  the 
ready  dispatch  of  couriers  to  all  quarters, 
and  for  the  reception  of  speedy  intelligence 
on  every  inteiesting  occasion.  It  is  furnish- 
ed with  lodgments,  wherein  to  post  centi- 
nels  of  various  characters,  and  appointed  for 
various  ofiices.  To  expedite  their  opera- 
tions, whether  they  are  employed  in  recon- 
noitring what  passes  without,  or  examining 
what  claims  admittance  within,  the  whole 
turns  upon  a  curious  pivot,  most  nicely  con- 
trived to  afford  the  largest  and  freest  cir- 
cumvolutions. 

This  stately  capital  is  screened  from  heat, 
defended  from  cold,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
very  much  beautified,  by  a  copious  growth 
of  hair,  which  flows  down  from  the  parted 
forelock  in  decent  curls,  and  hangs  mantling 
on  the  cheeks,  clustering  on  the  shotilderfe. 
A  decoration  incomparably  more  delicate 
than  any  or  all  the  orders  of  architecture 
can  supply,  and  so  perfectly  light,  that  it 
no  way  encumbers  or  incommodes  the 
wearer. 

While  many  animals  creep  on  the  ground, 
while  all  of  them  are  prone  in  their  posture 
or  their  aspect,  the  attitude  of  man  is  erect, 
which  is  by  far  the  most  graceful,  has  an  air 
of  dignity,  and  besjjeaks  superiority.  It  is 
by  far  the  most  commodious  ;  fits  us  for 
the  prosecution  of  every  grand  scheme,  and 
facilitates  the  success  of  all  our  extensive 
designs.  It  is  likewise  attended  with  the 
greatest  safety,  being,  if  not  less  than  any 
other  position  exposed  to  dangers,  yet  more 
happily  contrived  to  repel  or  avoid  them. 

^^sj).  May  it  not  likewise  be  intended  to 
remind  us  of  our  exalted  original,  and  our 
sublime  end  :  Our  original,  which  was  the 
breath  of  the  Almighty,  and  the  spirit  of 


'284 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


the  Most  High ;  our  end,  which  is  not  the 
soil  we  tread  on,  or  any  of  its  low  produc- 
tions, but  the  heaven  of  heavens,  and  the 
"'  things  that  are  above-" 

But  not  to  divert  from  our  subject,  which, 
in  my  friend's  manner  of  handling  it,  is  as 
entertaining  as  it  is  instructive  : — The  bones 
(to  carry  on  your  own  allusion)  are  only  the 
rafters,  the  beams,  the  shell  of  the  living 
edifice.  You  have  raised  the  walls,  and 
laid  the  floors ;  you  have  made  the  proper 
divisions,  and  left  the  necessary  apertures. 
But  in  every  finished  house  the  roof  is  co- 
vered, and  the  rooms  are  wainscotted.  The 
sashes  are  hung,  and  the  doors  turn  upon 
their  hinges.  The  grates  are  fixed  and  the 
stairs  ascend.  Within,  the  lodgings  are 
furnished ;  without,  the  front  is  ornament- 
ed. All  is  rendered  commodious  for  do- 
mestic use,  and  graceful  to  the  external 
view. 

Ther.  This  likewise  is  executed  by  the 
great,  the  divine  Artificer.  Here  are  liga- 
ments ;  a  tough  and  strong  arrangement  of 
fibres,  to  unite  the  several  limbs,  and  render 
what  would  otherwise  be  a  disjointed  un- 
wieldy jumble,  a  well-compacted  and  self- 
manai,'eable  system.  Membranes,  or  thin 
and  flexible  tunicles  appointed  to  inwrap 
the  fleshy  parts,  to  form  a  connexion  be- 
tween some,  and  make  a  separation  between 
others.* 

Arteries,  the  rivers  of  our  little  world,f 
or  the  aqueducts  of  the  organized  metropo- 
lis, some  of  which  ascend  to  the  head,  others 
spread  themselves  over  the  shoulders ;  some 
extend  to  the  arms,  some  descend  to  the 
feet,  and  striking  out,  as  they  go,  into  num- 
berless smaller  canals,  visit  the  streets,  the 
alleys,  and  every  individual  apartment  of  the 
vital  city ;  These  being  wide  at  their  origin, 
and  lessening  as  they  branch  themselves, 
check  the  rapid  impetus  of  the  blood.  To 
sustain  this  shock,  they  are  endued  with 
uncommon  strength  ;  by  performing  this 
service,  they  oblige  the  crimson  current  to 
pass  into  the  narrowest  defiles,  and  distri- 
bute itself  into  all  quarters.  The  blood 
thrown  from  the  heart  dilates  the  arteries, 
and  their  own  elastic  force  contracts  them. 
Ey  which  means,  they  vibrate  in  proper 
jiliices,  very  perceivably  against  the  finger  ; 
bring  advices  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
the  physician  ;  and  very  much  assist  him, 
both  in  discovering  the  nature  of  diseases, 
and  i»rescril)ing  for  their  respective  cures. 
Tlie  larger  arteries,  wherever  the  body  is 
formed  for  incurvation,  are  situate  on  the 
bending  side  ;  lest   being  stretched   to  an 


*  The  intestines  are  fastened  to  each  other  by  the 
mcscnlery.  The  breast  is  divided  into  two  ca- 
vities l>y  the  "  mediastinum."  Both  which  are  reck- 
oned among  the  membranes. 

t  A  liuiL.'in  body  was  called  by  the  anc'ents  the 
"microcosm,"  thai  is,  a  little  world,  or  the  world  in 
miniature. 


improper  length  by  the  inflection,  their  di- 
mensions should  be  lessened,  and  the  cir- 
culating fluid  retarded.  They  are  not,  like 
several  of  the  considerable  veins,  laid  so  near 
the  surface,  as  to  be  protrusive  of  the  skin, 
but  are  deposited  to  a  proper  depth  in  the 
flesh.  This  situation  renders  them  more 
secure  from  external  injuries.  It  conceals 
likewise  those  starts  and  resilitions  of  the 
pulse,  which,  if  apparent,  would  discompose 
the  most  sedate,  and  disfigure  the  most 
comely  countenance.  Could  we  cast  our 
eye  upon  the  river  which  runs  through  the 
neighbouring  meadow,  we  might  observe 
several  mills  intersecting  the  stream.  The 
waters,  at  those  places,  if  not  entirely  stop- 
ped, drain  away  very  slowly.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  obstruction,  the  lower  chan- 
nels would  be  sunk  dry,  and  the  upper  ones 
swelled  into  a  flood.  To  obviate  both  these 
inconveniences,  low  shots  are  provided, 
which  carrying  ofi'  the  surcharge,  prevent  a 
glut  above,  and  supply  the  banks  below.  In 
those  parts  of  the  body,  which  are  most 
liable  to  pressure,  much  the  same  expedient 
takes  place.  The  arteries  inosculate,  or, 
breaking  into  a  new  track,  they  fetch  a  little 
circuit,  in  order  to  return  and  communicate 
again  with  the  main  road.  So  that,  if  any 
obstacle  blocks  up  or  straitens  the  direct 
passage,  the  current,  by  diverting  to  this 
new  channel,  eludes  the  impediment,  main- 
tains an  uninterrupted  flow,  and  soon  re- 
gains its  wonted  course. 

Veins  are  appointed  to  receive  the  blood 
from  the  arteries,  and  re-convey  it  to  the 
heart.  Small  at  their  rise,  and  enlarging 
as  they  advance,  they  are  void  of  any  pulsa- 
tion. In  these,  the  pressure  of  the  circu- 
lating fluid  is  not  near  so  forcible  as  in  the 
arterial  tubes  ;  for  which  reason,  their  tex- 
ture is  considerably  slighter.  Such  an  ex- 
act economist  is  nature,  even  amidst  all  her 
liberality  !*  In  many  of  these  canals,  the 
current,  though  winding  continually  and 
acquiring  a  proportionable  increase  of  gra- 
vity, is  obliged  to  push  its  way  against  the 
perpendicular.  By  which  circumstance  it 
is  exposed  to  the  hazard  of  falling  back,  and 
overloading  the  vessels,  if  not  of  supressing 
the  animal  motion.  For  a  security  against 
this  danger,  valves  are  interposed  at  proper 
distances,  which  are  no  hinderance  to  the 
regular  passage,  but  prevent  the  reflux,  sus- 
tain the  augmented  weight,  and  facilitate  a 
progress  to  the  grand  receptacle.  This 
auxiliary  contrivance  comes  in,  where  the 
blood  is  constrained  to  climb ;  but  is  dis- 
missed where  the  steep  ascent  ceases,  and 
such  a  precaution  would  be  needless. 


*  A  parallel  instance  of  frugality  is  observable  in 
the  arteries,  whose  coats  are  spun  thinner,  as  the 
iliametcr  of  the  vessels  becomes  smaller,  and  the 
pressure  of  the  blood  weaker 


DIALOGUE  XIl. 


265 


Here  are  glands,  whose  office  it  is  to  fil- 
trate the  passing  fluid.  Each  of  these  glands 
is  an  assemblage  of  vessels,  eom])Iicated  and 
intervolved  with  seeming  confusion,  but 
with  perfect  regularity.  As  some  kind  of 
sieves  transmit  the  dust,  and  retain  the 
com  ;  others  bolt  out  the  meal,  and  hold 
back  the  bran  ;  so  some  of  these  glandulous 
strainers  ckaw  off  the  finest,  others  the  gross- 
est parts  of  the  blood.  Some,  like  the  dis- 
tiller's alembic,  sublimate  ;*  others,  like  the 
common  sewers,  defecate. f  Each  forms 
a  secretion  far  more  curious  than  the  most 
admired  operations  of  chemistiy;  yet  idl 
necessary  for  the  support  of  life,  or  condu- 
cive to  the  comfort  of  the  animal.  Muscles 
wove  in  nature's  nicest  loom  ;  composed  of 
the  slenderest  fibres,  yet  endued  with  in- 
credible strength  ;  fashioned  after  a  variety 
of  patterns,  but  all  in  the  highest  taste  for 
elegance,conveniency,  and  usefulness.  These, 
with  their  tendons  annexed,  constitute  the 
instruments  of  motion.  The  former,  con- 
tracting their  substance,  operate  somewhat 
like  the  pulley  in  mechanics.  The  latter, 
resembling  the  cord,  are  fastened  to  a  bone, 
or  some  partition  of  flesh  ;  and,  following 
the  muscular  contraction,  actuate  the  part 
into  which  they  are  inserted.  This,  and  all 
their  functions,  they  execute,  not  like  a  slug- 
gish beast  of  biu-den,  but  quick  as  thelight- 
iiing.  Nerves,  surprisingly  minute  tubes — 
derived  from  the  brain,  and  permeated  by 
an  exquisitely  subtile  fluid,  which,  gliding 
into  the  muscles,  sets  them  on  work — dif- 
fuses the  power  of  sensation  tlii'ough  the 
body ;  or,  returning  upon  any  impression 
from  without,  gives  all  needful  intelligence 
to  the  soul.  Vesicles,  distended  wth  an 
unctuous  matter,  in  some  places,  compose  a 
Boft  cushion^  for  nature,  in  other  ])laces, 
they  fill  up  her  vacuities,  and  smooth  the 
inequalities  of  the  flesh.  Inwardly,  they 
supple  the  several  movements  of  the  active 
machine ;  outwardly,  they  render  its  ap- 
pearance plump,  well  proportioned,  and 
gracefid. 

The  skin,  like  a  curious  surtout,§  exactly 
fitted,  is  superinduced  over  the  whole,  form- 


*  The  glandulous  substance  of  the  brain,  which 
secretes  the  animal  spirits. 

f  The  liver  and  kidneys.  The  former  of  which  se- 
parates the  gall,  the  latter  drains  off  a  fluid,  which, 
being  sufficiently  known,  need  not  be  named.  I  could 
wish,  it  had  not  been  so  explicitly  and  coarsely  men- 
tioned in  our  translation  of  the  best  of  books,  but  that 
we  had  rendered  the  original,  in  1  Kings  xiv.  1(1. 
"  Every  male;"  in  Isaiah,  xxxvi.  12.  "  Katand  drink 
their  own  excrements." 

tThe  cjilf  of  theleg  for  instance,  whose  large  collec- 
tion of  muscles,  intermingled  with  fat,  is  of  singular 
service  to  those  important  bones.  It  tlaiiks  and  forti- 
fiesthem  like  a  strong  bastion.  It  supjuirls  and  che- 
rishes them  like  a  soft  pillow.  And  what  is  no  less 
pleasing  to  observe,  i  t  acconnnodates  and  defends  them 
on  that  very  side,  where  they  most  frc(p)ently  rc«t 
their  weight,  and  where  they  are  leastcapable  of  being 
guarded  by  the  eye. 

§  "  Thou  hast  clothed  me  with  skin  and  flesh." 
Job  X.  11. 


ed  of  the  most  delicate  net-work,  whose 
meshes*  are  minute,  and  whose  threadst 
are  multiplied  even  to  a  prodigy.  The 
meshes  so  minute,  that  nothing  passes  thfti, 
which  is  discernible  by  the  eye ;  tliotigh 
they  discharge  every  moment  myriads  and 
myriads  of  superfluous  incumbrances  from 
the  body.  The  steam,  arising  from  the  warm 
business  transacted  within,  is  carried  off  by 
these  real,  though  imperceptible  funnels,^ 
which  constitutes  what  we  usually  call  in- 
sensible perspiration.  The  threads  so  mul- 
tiplied, that  neither  the  point  of  the  small- 
est needle,  nor  the  incomparably  nicer  spear 
of  a  gnat,  nor  even  the  invisible  lancet  of  a 
flea,  can  pierce  any  single  part,  without 
causing  an  uneasy  sensation,  and  a  suffusion 
of  blood  ;  consequently,  without  wounding, 
even  by  so  small  a  puncture,  both  a  nerve 
and  a  vein.§ 

The  veins,  either  pei"vading  or  lying  pa- 
rallel with  this  fine  transparent  coat,  beauti- 
fy the  human  structure ;  those  parts  espe- 
ciidly,  which  are  most  conspicuous,  and  in- 
tended for  public  view.  The  pliant  wnst, 
and  the  taper  arm,  they  variegate  with  an 
inlay  of  living  sapphire. — They  spread  ver- 
milion over  the  lips,||  and  plant  roses  in  the 
cheeks,  while  the  eye,  tinged  with  glossy 
jet,  or  sparkling  with  the  blue  of  heaven, 
is  fixed  in  an  orb  of  polished  crystal.  In- 
somuch that  the  earthly  tabernacle  exhibits 
the  nicest  proportions  and  richest  graces ; 


*  The  pores  of  the  cuticula. 

+  Thenervous  fibres,  andother  vessels  of  the  cutis. 
Nature  is  somewhat  like  Solomon's  virtuous  woman, 
"  who  is  not  afraid  of  the  snow  for  her  household, 
because  her  household  are  clothed  in  scarlet;"  or,  as 
it  may  be  rendered,  are  clothed  "  with  pairs,"  have 
two  coats  a-piece,  Prov.  xxxi.21.  (See  Gen.  vi.  19. 
2(1,  where  the  word  occurs  in  this  signification).  The 
body  also  is  accommodated  with  a  double  covering. 
The  outennost  is  that  soft  whitish  tegument,  which 
rises  in  the  pustule  of  a  blister.  The  innermost  is  that 
reddish  anti  exquisitely  tender  part,  which  appears 
when  the  blister  is  broke,  and  the  dead  skin  taken  off. 
The  first  is  void  of  sejise,  and  intended  to  screen  the 
second,  not  only  from  the  stroke  of  injuries,  but  even 
from  the  impressions  of  the  air,  which,  mild  as  it  may 
feel  to  the  sheathed,  would  be  too  rough  and  sharp 
for  the  naked  nerves. 

There  seems  to  be  an  allusion  to  this  particular  in 
that  reinarkable expression,  "  Skin  for  skin,"  Job.  ii. 
4.  "  skin  even  unto  skin,"  the  very  inmost  skin,  which 
camiot  be  taken  away  without  the  greatest  loss,  and  se- 
verest pain.  Yet  even  this  loss  a  man  would  suffer, 
this  pain  he  would  endure  in  order  to  preserve  precious 
life. 

t  Theje  are  somewhere  prettily  styled  cutaneous 
chimneys,  and  no  wonder  they  are  imperceptible,  if, 
as  Mr.  Lewenhoeck  affimis,  a  single  grain  of  sand  will 
cover  no  less  than  12.5,00(1. 

§  A  blood-vessel  at  least.  Compared  with  these  ves- 
sels, the  fine  filmy  threads,  which,  on  some  bright  au- 
tumnal morning,  float  in  the  air,  or  hang  on  the  stub- 
ble, must  be  large  as  a  bell-rone,  or  bulky  as  a 
cable.  Such  tubes,  one  would  think,  would  burst 
at  every  breath  we  draw,  or  even  break  with  their 
own  fineness.  Vet  they  are  tlieconduit-pipes,  which 
convey  the  vital  fluid  from  and  to  the  grand  reservoir. 
And  so  exquisite,  so  admirable  is  their  texture,  that 
they  will  outlast  the  strength  of  lead,  or  the  heart 
of  oak,— these  wearing  .T way,  those  growing  stronger 
by  use. 

II  "  Thy  liyis  are  like  a  thread  of  scarlet,"  Cant.  iv. 
.'I.  Like  a  thread,  for  their  delicate  shape;  like  a 
thread  of  scarlet  for  their  colour. 


286 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO, 


such  nice  proportions  as  afford  the  most 
correct  model  for  statuary :  such  rich  graces, 
a.s  the  canvass  never  bore,  as  painting  imi- 
tutcs  in  vain. 

Asp.  How  just  in  itself,  and  how  perti- 
nent to  our  purpose,  is  that  well-known  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  sacred  and  royal  ana- 
tomist; "  I  am  curiously  wTOiight!""  "  There 
is  a  variety,  a  regidarity,  and  an  elegance, 
in  the  texture  of  my  body  ;  in  the  formation 
and  arrangement  of  these  bones  and  muscles, 
these  veins  and  arteries ; — resembling,  shall 
I  say  ? — rather  infinitely  sui-passing  the 
most  costly  and  admired  pieces  of  embroid- 
ery." 

It  is  one  of  the  finest  similitudes  which 
the  whole  circle  of  polite  arts  coidd  afford. 
Yet  eveiy  comparison,  fetched  from  the  per- 
formances of  mankind,  must  necessarily  de- 
base the  noble  subject.  All  the  enrichments 
which  the  needle  can  give,  or  the  most  splen- 
did silks  receive,  are  rude,  are  coarse,  are 
mere  sackcloth,  when  set  in  opposition  to 
the  exquisite  delicacy  of  the  fleshly  web. 
As,  indeed,  all  the  celebrated  palaces,  am- 
phitheatres, temples,  which  ever  adomed  the 
most  magnificent  cities  in  the  world,  are  but 
a  heap  of  confusion,  if  compared  with  the 
symmetry  and  beauty  of  the  bodily  fabric. 
And,  what  is  beyond  measure  marvellous, 
all  these  wonders  of  mechanism  and  deco- 
ration arose,  not  from  the  purer  elements, 
not  from  the  more  refined  parts  of  the  crea- 
tion, but  from  the  dust  of  the  ground,  f  How 
easily,  Theron,  can  that  stupendous  Artificer 
renew  our  hearts,  and  transform  oui'  souls 
into  his  owii  image,  who  could  raise  such 
delicate  and  stately  edifices  from  particles — 
despicable  particles  of  the  trodden  soil ! 

I  coidd  not  forbear  interposing  this  re- 
mark ;  because  it  tends  to  manifest  our  Cre- 
ator's glory,  to  encourage  om"  hopes,  and 
strengthen  our  faith ;  otherwnse  I  should  be 
angi-y  with  myself  for  interrupting  yom'  dis- 
course. Pray  go  on  with  your  description 
of  the  animal  economy  ;  only  let  me  ob- 
seiTe,  that  such  a  course  of  incessant  action 
must  exhaust  the  fluids,  must  waste  the  so- 
lids ;  and,  unless  both  are  supplied  with 
proper  recruits,  must  gradually  weaken,  and 
at  length  totally  destroy  the  machine. 

Tfier.  For  this  reason,  it  is  furnished 
with  the  organs,  and  endued  with  the  pow- 
ers of  nutrition. — Teeth,  the  foremost  thin 
and  sharp,  fitted  to  bite  asunder  the  food, 
or  cut  J  off  such  a  portion  as  the  mouth  can 


*  The  original  signifies  "  finely  wrought,"  or  "  ele- 
gantly flourished  with  a  needle."  The  translation 
adopted  by  our  liturgy  is,  in  this  place,  flat  and  inex- 
pressive. The  English  word  fashioned  has  just  the 
same  inferiority  to  the  beautiful  Hebrew  phrase,  as 
the  badge  tacked  upon  some  poor  pensioner's  coat  has 
to  the  star  embroidered  on  a  nobleman  s  breast.  Psal. 
cxxxix.  14. 

t  "  The  Lord  God  formed  man  of  the  dust  of  the 
ground."    Gen.  ii.  7. 

:j:  Called  therefore,  "  incisive." 


conveniently  manage  ;  the  hindermost  broad 
and  strong,  indented  like  the  surface  of  a 
millstone,*  with  small  cavities,  and  jagged 
with  little  asperities,  which  qualify  them  to 
grind  in  pieces  whatever  is  transmitted  to 
their  operation.  Were  the  teeth,  bke  our 
other  bones,  covered  with  the  usual  mem- 
brane, the  act  of  chewing  would  always  oc- 
casion great  imeasiness  ;  and,  when  any  hard 
substance  is  eaten,  might  even  lacerate  the 
tender  tegument.  Were  they  left  without 
any  sort  of  covering,  they  would  suffer  from 
the  inclemencies  of  the  air,  and  be  liable  to 
the  penetration  of  liquors  :  In  which  case, 
they  must  soon  become  soft  and  in)fit  for 
service,  or  be  corrupted,  and  entirely  perish. 
To  guard  against  these  disadvantages,  they 
are  curiously  glazed,  or  overlaid  with  a  neat 
enamel,  as  white  as  ivory,  and  harder  than 
the  bone  itself;  which  renders  them  an  or- 
nament to  the  mouth,-f  secures  them  from 
various  injiuies,  and  exempts  them  from 
pain  in  the  office  of  mastication. 

As  the  rims  and  cushions  of  a  billiard- 
table  keep  the  ball  from  flying  off,  and  send 
it  back  into  the  green  area  for  repeated  es- 
says of  skill ;  so  the  lips  prevent  the  food 
from  slipping  out  of  the  mouth,  and,  assist- 
ed by  the  tongue,  retiun  it  to  the  renewed 
attrition  of  the  grinders.  While  the  lips, 
in  concert  with  the  cheeks,  are  employed  in 
this  work,  their  motion  compresses  the  cir- 
cinnjacent  glands ;  and,  from  innumerable 
little  orifices,  a  thin  pellucid  liquor  exudes, 
which  moistens  the  attenuated  food,  and 
prepares  it  for  more  easy  digestion.  When 
the  mouth  remains  inactive,  these  fountains 
of  spittle  are,  in  a  manner,  closed.  But 
when  it  is  exercised,  either  in  speaking  or 
eating,  their  moisture  then  being  pecidiarly 
necessary,  they  never  fail  to  give  out  a  suf- 
ficient quantity. 

When  the  soldier  charges  his  carbine,  the 
cartridge  could  not  make  its  way  to  the  bot- 
tom without  the  protrusion  of  the  rammer.^ 


♦  styled  accordingly,  "  molares." — We  find  nei- 
ther of  these  kinds  in  the  new-born  babe.  As  milk  is, 
for  a  considerable  time,  its  appointed  food,  teeth 
would  be  of  no  service  to  the  infant  itself.  As  it  is  to 
press  the  tender  nipple  for  this  milky  sustenance, 
teeth  would  be  painful  and  prejudicial  to  the  nurse. 
Therefore,  nature  has  postponed  the  formation  of 
these  fine  implements,  till  they  become  both  necessa- 
ry and  beneficial. 

t  This  ornamental  furniture  of  the  mouth  is,  in 
the  grand  oriental  manner,  described  by  Solomon : 
"  Thy  teeth  are  like  a  flock  of  sheep,  that  are  even 
shorn,  which  come  up  from  the  washing."  Cant.  iv.  2. 
Growing,  not  single  like  the  nose;  not  in  pairs  like 
the  eyes;  but  in  rows  considerably  numerous,  like  a 
flock.  None  rising  higher  than  the  other  ;  none 
standing  unduly  prominent  beyond  another ;  but  all 
set  as  true  as  if  they  were  ranged  by  the  compass  ;  and 
making  as  regular  an  appearance  as  the  flocks  that  are 
even  shorn.  They  are  clean  also  as  the  fleeces  which 
have  no  spot,  and  white  as  the  colour  of  the  purest 
wool,  like  the  flocks  just  come  up  from  the  washing. 

i  This  and  the  other  similitudes,  are  undoubtedly 
too  mean  for  the  noble  occasion.  Neither  do  they,  in 
every  circumstance,  (piadrate  with  the  functions  de- 
scribed. The  motion  of  the  muscles,  which  minister 
to  the  act  of  deglutition,  is  dillbrent  from  the  per- 


DIALOGUE  XII. 


287 


Neither  would  the  food,  which  wo  receive 
at  the  mouth,  descend  by  tlie  force  of  its 
own  weight,  througli  a  uturow  and  clammy 
channel,  into  the  stomach.  To  effectuate 
therefore,  and  expedite  its  passage,  muscles 
both  strait  and  circular  are  provided.  The 
former  enlarge  the  cavity  of  the  throat,  and 
afford  a  more  easy  admittance  ;  the  latter, 
closing  behind  the  descending  aliment,  press 
it  downwards,  and  finish  the  deglutition. 
Before  the  food  enters  the  gullet,  it  must  of 
necessity  pass  over  the  orifice  of  the  wind- 
pipe ;  consequently,  must  be  in  very  immi- 
nent danger  of  falling  upon  the  lungs  ;  which 
would,  if  not  entirely  obstnict  the  breath, 
yet  occasion  violent  coughing,*  and  great 
inconveniences.  To  obviate  this  evil,  the 
all-foreseeing  Contriver  has  placed  a  move- 
able lid,  or  hunga  cartilaginous  draw-bridge,t 
which,  when  any  the  smallest  particle  of 
food  advances  to  enter  the  stomach,  is  pull- 
ed dolvn  and  shut  close  ;  but  the  very  mo- 
ment the  morsel  is  swidlowed,  it  is  set  loose 
and  stands  open.  By  this  twofold  artifice, 
the  importiuit  passage  is  always  baiTed  and 
made  sure  against  any  noxious  approaches, 
yet  is  always  left  free  for  the  necessary  ac- 
cession of  air,  and  commodious  for  the  piu'- 
poses  of  respiration. 

When  the  maltster  prepares  his  grain  for 
the  transmutations  of  the  brew-house,  he 
suffers  it  to  lie  several  hours  steeping  in  the 
cistern,  before  it  is  fit  to  be  spread  upon 
the  floor,  or  dried  on  the  kiln.  The  meat 
and  drink  likewise  must  remain  a  consider- 
able time  in  the  stomach  before  they  are  of 
a  proper  consistence  and  tcmperatiu^e,  either 
for  the  tender  coats,  or  the  delicate  opera- 
tion of  the  bowels.  For  which  purpose, 
that  great  receiver  is  made  strong  to  bear, 
capacious  to  hold,  and  so  curiously  contrived 
as  to  lay  a  temporary  embargo  J  upon  its  con- 
tents. Here  they  are  lodged  in  the  very 
centre  of  warmth,  and  concocted  by  the 
most  kindly  combination  of  heat  and  humi- 


pendicular  protrusion  of  the  rammer ;  and  it  is  men- 
tioned only  to  demonstrate  the  necessity  of  somepro- 
pelHng  force,  in  order  to  convey  the  aliment  into  the 
proper  receptacle. 

When  we  descant  upon  a  subject  of  such  extensive 
contrivance,  and  such  finished  ]ierfection,  as  the  liu- 
man  structure,  it  is  scarce  possible  to  find  similitudes 
that  will  correspond  in  all  particulars,  or  tliat  can 
rise  to  the  dignity  of  the  original.  V'et  if  they  tend, 
in  any  toleral)le  degree,  to  explain  its  fonnation,  to 
display  its  uses,  and  render  its  wonderful  economy 
somewhat  more  intelligible,  perhaps  they  may  be  al- 
lowed to  take  place. 

I  hope  it  will  be  remembered,  that  Theron  speaks 
not  as  an  adept  in  the  science,  l)ut  as  one  whose  high- 
est pretensions  are,  to  admire  the  work,  and  adore  the 
Artificer.  Which  acknowledginent  may  entitle  him 
to  some  candid  indulgence,  in  case  he  should  ofl'end 
against  the  precise  anatomical  exactness  either  of  sen- 
timent or  expression. 

•  This  is  what  we  experience  when,  in  eating  or 
drinking,  any  thing  goes  (as  it  is  commonly,  and  not 
improperly  said)  the  wrong  way. 

t  Called  the  "epiglottis." 

i  Which  is  quite  contrary  to  the  economy  of  the 
pillet,  though  they  are  not  only  contiguous  to  each 
other,  but  a  continuation  of  the  same  tube. 


dity.  Here  they  are  saturated  with  other 
fermenting  or  dikitiiig  juices,  and  are  knead- 
ed, as  it  were,  by  the  motion  of  the  stomach, 
and  compression  of  the  neighbouring  parts. 
So  that  every,  the  minutest  fragment  is  se- 
I)arated  ;  the  whole  is  reduced  to  a  tenuity, 
abundantly  finer  than  the  exactest  grinding 
could  effect ;  and  all  is  worked  up  into  the 
smoothest  most  nicely-mixed  ptdp  imagin- 
able. From  hence  it  is  dislodged  by  a  gent- 
ly-acting force,  and  passes  by  a  gradual  tran- 
sition into  the  cavity  of  the  intestines. 

Near  the  entrance,  punctual  as  a  porter 
in  his  lodge,  waits  the  gall-bladder,*  ready 
to  transfuse  its  acrimonious  but  salutary 
juices,  on  the  advancing  fdiment ;  which 
dissolve  its  remaining  viscidities  ;  scoiu*  the 
passage  of  the  intestines,  and  keep  all  its  fine 
apertures  clear.  This  bag,  as  the  stomach 
fills,  is  elevated  by  the  distension ;  as  the 
stomach  empties,  is  proportionably  depressed. 
The  former  posture  brings  on  adischarge,  the 
latter  occasions  a  suppression  of  the  bile. 
It  is  furnished  also  with  a  valve  of  a  very 
peculiar,  but  most  convenient  form,f  through 
which  the  detersive  liquid  cannot  hastily 
pour,  but  must  gently  ooze.  Admirable 
construction,  which,  without  any  care  or 
consciousness  of  ours,  prohibits  an  immoder- 
ate effusion,  yet  ascertains  the  needful  supply. 

Sufficiently  charged  with  this  ad\'entitious 
fluid,  the  nutritive  mass  pursues  its  way 
through  the  intestines,  whose  wonderful 
meanders  are  incomparably  more  curious  than 
the  mazes  of  the  Dtedalean  labyrinth.  They 
are  actuated  with  a  \\'orm-like  or  undulatory 
motion, J  which  protrudes  the  received  ali- 
ment, and  forces  its  fine  milky  particles  in- 
to the  lacteal  vessels.  These  are  a  series 
of  the  most  delicate  strainers,  ranged  in 
countless  midtitudes  all  along  the  sides  of 
the  winding  passage,  each  so  nicely  fram- 
ed as  to  admit  the  neutrimental  balmy  juices, 
and  reject  the  gross  excrementitious  dregs. 
Had  the  intestines  been  straight  and  short, 
the  food  might  have  gone  thi-ough  them, 
without  resigning  a  suflicient  quantity  of  its 
nourishing  particles.  Therefore,  this  grand- 
est of  all  the  vital  ducts  is  artfully  convolv- 
ed, and  greatly  extended,  to  afford  nature 
an  opportunity  of  sifting  more  thoroughly 
whatever  passes,  and  of  detaining  whatever 
may  serve  her  purposes.  Lest  such  lengths 
of  entrails  should  be  entangled  among  them- 
selves, or  be  cumbrous  to  the  wearer,  they 
are  packed  into  the  neatest  folds,  and  lie 
within  a  narrow  compass.  They  are  at 
least  six  times  longcr§  than  the  body  which 


*  The  gall-bladder  is  situate  ui)on  the  lower  margin 
of  the  liver;  and  to  secrete  the  bilious  juice,  is  sup- 
posed to  be  the  principal  use  of  tliat  largest  of 
glands. 

t  A  spiral  form. 

t  Styled  vermicular  or  peristaltic. 

§  According  to  thiscalculation,  they  must  measure, 
in  a  pretty  tall  m.an,  more  than  thirty-six  feet.  The 
substance  of  the  bowels,  though  thin  to  a  delicacy,  is 


288 


THERON  AND  ASPASiO. 


tontairis  them  ;  yet  are  they  lodged,  not 
crowded,  in  a  part,  not  in  the  whole  region 
of  the  lower  belly ;  and,  amidst  this  small 
space,  have  sufficient  room  to  execute  the 
nicest  and  mostimportantfunctions.  Though 
the  alimentary  substance  can  never  mistake 
its  way,  yet  it  may,  through  some  accidental 
impediment,  attempt  to  return  backward. 
In  this  case  a  valve  intervenes,  and  renders 
\vhat  would  be  extremely  pernicious,  almost 
always  impracticable.  As  the  whole  proceeds 
in  this  serpentine  course,  it  is  perpetually 
sending  off  detachments  of  nutritious  juices. 
In  consequence  of  which,  it  would  lose  its 
soft  temperature  ;  might  become  rugged,  and 
pain  the  tender  parts  ;  perhaps  be  hindered 
from  sliding  on  to  its  final  exit.  To  prevent 
such  an  obstruction,  glands  are  posted  in 
proper  places,*  and  discharge  a  lubricating 
tiiiid,  which  aids  the  progress  of  the  mass, 
and  renews  the  secretion  of  the  chyle,  till 
all  that  remains  of  the  one  is  clean  drawn 
off,  and  the  other — But  here  you  must  ex- 
cuse me,  and,  for  my  neglect  of  farther  par- 
ticularity, yom-  author  shall  make  an  apo- 
logy :  "  Quemadmodum  autem  reliquiae  cibi 
depellantiu",  turn  astringentibus  se  intestinis, 
turn  relaxantibus,  baud  sane  difficile  dictu 
est ;  sed  tamen  prsetereundem  est,  ne  quid 
habeat  injucunditatis  oratio."f 

The  ciiyle,  drawn  off  by  all  the  secretory 
orifices,  is  carried  along  millions  of  the  finest 
ducts,*  and  lodged  in  several  commodious 
cells.  §  Asa  traveller,  by  baiting  upon  the 
road,  and  taking  proper  refreshment,  is  bet- 
ter qualified  to  pursue  his  joumey  ;  so  the 
chyle,  diverting  to  those  little  inns,  is  mix- 
ed with  a  thin,  diluting,  watery  substance, 
which  renders  it  more  apt  to  flow,  and  more 
fit  for  use.  From  hence  it  is  conveyed  to 
one  common  receptacle,  ||  and  mounts 
tlu^ough  a  perpendicular  tube.  When  pro- 
vision or  ammunition  is  transmitted  to  an 
army,  it  generally  passes  under  an  escoit  of 
able  troops.  As  this  is  the  immediate  sup- 
port, and  principal  nourishment  of  the  whole 


strong  to  a  wonder.  The  skin  of  an  ox  gut,  I  am  told 
will  endure  the  blows  of  the  gold-beater's  hanuiner  for 
many  months,  nay,  for  several  years. 

*  In  the  bowels  which  lie  nearest  the  stomach,  these 
glands  are  smaller  or  fewer  ;  because,  in  those  parts, 
the  aliment  is  copiously  furnished  with  moisture; 
whereas,  in  the  bowels  which  are  more  remote  from 
the  stomach,  and  receive  the  food  drained  of  a  con- 
siderable quantity  of  its  chyle,  the  lubricating  glands 
are  either  multiplied  or  enlarged.  A  mo;t  admirable 
provision !  apparently  diversified  according  to  the 
several  changes  of  the  aliment,  yet  exactly  adapted  to 
the  exigencies  of  the  animal. 

I  Cicero  de  Nnt.  Dear. 
t  Fine  indeed  !  since  their  orifices,  through  which 

they  admit  the  chyle,  are  not  discoverable  even  by 
the  very  best  microscopes.  To  this  prodigiously-nice 
constructure  it  is  owing,  that  nothing  enters  the  sub- 
stance of  the  blood,  but  what  is  smaller  than  the 
smallest  arteries  in  the  system  ;  and  thereby  fitteti  to 
l)ass  through  (he  finest  capillary  vessels,  without 
c.using  any  obstruction. 

§  The  glands  of  (he  mesentery. 

II  The  "  reccptaculum  chyli ;"  a  reservatory  placed 
near  the  left  UieUiey 


system,  its  conveyance  is  guarded  and  ascer- 
tained with  peculiar  caution.  The  jx-rpcn- 
dicular  tube,  not  having  sufficient  force  of 
its  own,  is  laid  contiguous  to  the  great  ar- 
teiy  ;  whose  strong  pulsation  drives  on  the 
creeping  fluid,  enables  it  to  overcome  the 
steep  ascent,  and  unload  its  precious  trea- 
sure at  the  very  door  of  the  heart Here 

it  enters  the  trunk  of  a  large  vein,  most  con- 
veniently opened  for  its  reception  -.  It  enters 
in  a  slanting  or  oblique  direction.  By  this 
method  of  approach,  it  avoids  thwarting,  and 
coincides  with  the  purple  stream ;  which, 
instead  of  obstructing  its  admission,  expe- 
dites its  passage,  and  instead  of  being  a  bar 
to  exclude  it,  becomes  a  vehicle  to  waft  it. 
— Its  entrance  is  farther  secured  by  a  valve, 
admirably  constructed,  and  most  happily  si- 
tuate ;  which  shuts  the  aperture  against  the 
refluent  blood,  in  case  it  should  offer  to  ob- 
trude itself,  but  opens  a  free,  safe,  and  easy 
avenue,  to  introduce  this  mUk  ;  this  manna 
of  natiu-e. 

The  blood,  through  every  stage  of  its  am- 
ple circuit,  having  sustained  great  expenses  ; 
being  laid  under  contribution  by  eveiy 
gland  in  the  whole  system,  and  having  sup- 
plied myriads  of  the  capillary  vessels  \^'ith 
matter  for  insensible  perspiration,  must  be 
very  much  impoverished;  but  is  most  oppor- 

timely  recruited  by  this  accession  of  chyle 

Yet  though  recruited,  it  is  not  refined.  In  its 
present  crude  state,  it  is  absolutely  imqua- 
lified  to  perform  the  Altai  tour,  or  carry  on 
the  animal  functions  :  Therefore,  by  a  grand 
apparatus  of  muscular  fibres  it  is  wafted  in- 
to the  lungs,  and  pours  a  thousand  thousand 
rills  into  either  lobe. — In  the  cells  the 
spongy  cells  of  this  amazing  laboratory,  it 
imbibes  the  influences  of  the  external  air  ; 
its  heterogeneous  parts  are  thoroughly  in- 
corporated, and  its  whole  substance  is  made 
cool,  smooth,  and  florid. — Thus  improved, 
thus  exalted,  it  is  transmitted  to  the  left 
ventricle  of  the  heart ;  a  strong,  active,  in- 
defatigable* muscle,  placed  in  the  verj' cen- 
tre of  the  system.  Impelled  by  this  beat- 
ing engine,  part  shoots  upward,  and  sweeps 
with  a  bounding  impetus  into  the  head. 
There  it  impregnates  the  prolific  fields  of 
the  brain,  and  forms  those  subtile  spirituous 
dews,f  which  impart  strength  to  every  nerve. 


♦  Indefatigable. — This  is  a  very  distinguishing,  and 
no  less  amazing  property  of  the  heart.  The  large 
muscles  of  the  arm,  or  the  much  larger  of  the  thigh, 
are  soon  wearied.  A  day's  labour,  or  a  day's  journey, 
will  exhaust  their  strength.  Butthemusclewhich  con- 
stitutes the  heart  works  through  whole  weeks,  whole 
months,  whole  years,  and  never  becomes  weaiy  ;  is 
equally  a  stranger  to  intermission  and  fatigue. 

t  These  are  what  we  call  the  animal  spirits:  and  it 
is  generally  supposed,  that  sensation  is  caused  by  the 
undulatory  motion  of  this  nervous  fluid ;  thoiigh 
some  imagine  it  is  performed  by  the  vibratory  motion 
of  the  nerves  themselves.— Others  think,  th:-.t  liciihcr 
of  these  ojiiniom  will  comport  witli  the  texture  of 
those  fine  tubes,  or  with  the  nature  of  the  duid  thi'y 
contain.— It  is,  I  Ivelievc,  oneof  thcscniyslcriwin  t!ie 
material  world,  whichm.Ty  reconcile  thinking  and  un- 


DIALOGUE  XII. 


289" 


and  communicate  motion  to  every  limb. — 
Part  flows  downward,  rolls  the  reeking  cur- 
rent through  all  the  lower  quarters,  and 
dispenses  the  nutrimental  stores  even  to  the 
meanest  member  and  the  minutest  vessel. 
Observe  how  the  stately  Thames  and  the 
rapid  Rhine  refresh  the  forests  and  the 
groves,  water  the  towns,  which  crowd  their 
banks,  and  make  the  meadows  they  inter- 
sect laugh  and  sing.  So,  only  with  an  in- 
comparably richer  fluid,  and  with  infinitely 
more  numerous  streams,  this  human  river 
laves  the  several  regions  of  the  body,  trans- 
fusing vigour  and  propagating  health  through 
the  whole. 

But  how  shall  a  stream,  divided  into  my- 
riads of  channels,  and  pervading  innumera- 
ble tracts,  how  shall  this  be  brought  b.ack 
again  to  its  source  ?  Should  any  portion, 
like  your  lake-waters  after  a  land-flood,  de- 
viate from  their  course,  or  be  unable  to  re- 
turn— putrefaction  would  take  place,  a  nui- 
sance would  arise,  death  might  ensue. 
Therefore  the  all-wise  Creator  has  connec- 
ted the  extremity  of  the  arteries  with  the 
beginning  of  the  veins  :  So  that  the  same 
force  which  darts  the  crimson  wave  through 
the  former,  drives  it  through  the  latter. 
Thus  it  is  reconducted,  without  the  least 
extravasation,  to  the  great  salient  cistern.* 
There,  played  off  afresh,  it  renews  and  per- 
petuates the  vital  functions. 

Where  two  opposite  currents  would  be 
in  danger  of  clashing,  a  fibrous  excrescence 
inteq)oses,t  which,  like  a  projecting  pier, 
breaks  the  stroke  of  each,,  and  throws  both 
into  their  proper  receptacle.  When  the 
wafture  is  to  be  speedy,  the  chaimels  either 
forbear  to  wind  in  their  course,!  or  to  les- 
sen in  their  dim.ensions.§  When  the  pro- 
gress is  to  be  retarded,  the  tubes  are  twined 
into  various  convolutions,  ||  or  their  diame- 
ter is  contracted  into  a   narrower   size 

Modelled  by  these  judicious  ndes,  guarded 
by  these  wise  precautions,  the  living  flood 
never  discontinues  its  interchangeable  tide ; 
but,  night  and  day,  whether  we  sleep  or 


prejudiced  minds  to  the  mysteries  of  the  Christian 
revelation.  Why  should  any  one  wonder  to  find  some 
doctrines  in  the  Bible  that  surpass  the  reach  of  hu- 
rnan  understanding,  when  there  are  so  many  opera- 
tions inthelxidy  confessedly  and  absolutely  inexplica- 
ble by  the  most  acute  anatomist  ? 

t  Solomon  makes  use  of  this  similitude.—"  Or 
ever  the  pitcher  be  broken  at  the  fountain,  or  the 
wheel  broken  at  the  cistern."  Eccl.  xii.6.  The  two 
ventricles  of  the  heart,  replenished  with  blood,  are 
fitly  represented  by  a  cistern;  and  the  contractile 
forceof  their  fibres  acts  like  the  water-wheel  in  hy- 
draulics. The  pitcher,  which  receives  the  water  at 
the  sprinp-heail,  and  conveys  it  away  for  the  owner's 
service,  may  prolrably  signify  the  aorta,  and  the  pul- 
monary artery  ;  whose  functions  correspond  with  the 
uses  of  such  a  vessel. 

i  In  the  point  where  the  streams  form  the  vena 
cava  and  vpna  nscrtidens  meet. 

J  In  the  great  artery,  that  descends  to  the  feet. 

§  In  every  interval,  between  all  the  ramifications. 

n  In  the  vessels  which  carry  the  blond  to  thcbrain  : 
which  form  the  viscous  secretions;  and  indeed  which 
consctitute  all  the  glands. 


wake,  still  perseveres  to  sally  briskly  through 
the  arteries,  and  return  softly  through  the 
Ins. 

Such  astonishing  expedients  are  used  to 
elaborate  the  chyle,  to  blend  it  with  the 
blood,  and  to  distribute  both  through  the 
body  ;  by  means  of  which  the  animal  con- 
stitution is  maintained.  In  youth  its  bulk 
is  increased ;  in  age  its  decays  are  repaired  ; 
and  it  is  kept  in  tenantable  condition  for  the 
soul  during  the  space  of  seventy  or  eighty 
years. 

These  are  a  few,  and  but  a  very  few,  in- 
stances of  that  contrivance,  regularity,  and 
beauty,  which  are  observable  in  the  human 
frame.  Attentive  inquirers  discover  deep- 
er footsteps  of  design,  and  more  refined 
strokes  of  skill ;  discover  them  not  only  in 
the  grand  and  most  distinguished  parts,  but 
in  every  limb  and  in  every  organ  ;  I  may 
venture  to  add,  in  every  fibre  that  is  extend- 
ed, and  in  every  globule*  that  flows. 

Asp.  What  a  various,  but  uniform  sys- 
tem, is  the  body  !  I  see  the  greatest  midti- 
plicity  of  parts,  yet  the  most  perfect  har- 
mony subsists  between  them  all.  No  one 
hinders,  but  each  assists,  the  operation  of 
another  ;  and  all  conspire  to  the  benefit  and 
preservation  of  the  whole.  Most  judicious- 
ly has  the  great  apostle  touched  this  sub- 
ject, and  most  happily  applied  it,  to  illus- 
trate the  reasonableness  and  enforce  the 
practice,  both  of  personal  and  social  duties, 
of  private  content  and  public  concord.  See 
1  Cor.  xii.  12,  &c. 

"  The  body,"  he  observes,  "  is  not  one 
member,  but  many  ;'  to  each  of  which  some 
peculiar  and  needful  office  is  assigned  :  So 
that  the  foot,  though  placed  in  the  lowest 
order,  and  destined  to  serve  on  the  very 
ground,  has  no  reason  to  reckon  itself  a 
worthless  outcast ;  or  to  say,  "  because  I 
am  not  the  head,  I  am  not  of  the  body." 
Neither  has  the  head,  in  its  exalted  station, 
and  amidst  its  honourable  functions,  any 
cause  to  despise  the  inferior  limbs  ;  or  to 
say,  with  contempt  and  self-sufficiency,  "  I 
have  no  need  of  you."  If  there  were  no 
feet  what  would  become  of  the  locomotive 
faculty  ?  or  how  could  the  body  convey  it- 
self from  one  place  to  another  ?  If  there 
were  no  hands,  what  should  we  do  for  the 
instruments  of  action  ?  or  how  could  the 
animal  frame  be  defended  and  accommodat- 
ed ? — Nay,  the  parts,  "  which  seem  to  be 
less  honourable"  are  necessary.  Even  those 
which  form  the  sediments,  or  throw  oflf"  the 
dregs,  are  of  the  last  importance  to  life  and 
its  comforts.  Should  those  be  obstructed 
in  their  action,  the  most  raging  torment  en- 


«  The  extreme  minuteness  of  the  globules,  which 
form  the  red  part  of  our  blood,  is  one  exemplifica- 
tion of  this  remark  ;  if,  as  Mr  Lewenhoeck  computes 
every  globule  be  liTi.OtKl  times  smaller  than  the  small- 
est  gram  of  sand. 

U 


290 


THERON  i\ND  ASPASIO. 


sues  ;  Stould  the  obstmction  continue, 
death  is  the  inevitable  consequence. — By 
this  %vise  adjustment  "  there  is  no  schism  in 
the  body ;"  no  separate  or  interfering  ends 
are  pursued  by  the  members  ;  but  the  safe- 
ty and  support  of  each  are  the  one  undivided 
care  of  all. 

Thus  should  it  be  among  men,  and 
among  Christians,  in  the  civil  community, 
and  in  the  Catholic  church.  There  is  in 
both  a  subordination  of  persons,  but  a  con- 
catenation of  interests.  For  which  reason, 
a  general  agreement  shoidd  take  place,  and 
a  mutual  subserviency  to  each  other's  wel- 
fare. The  meanest  have  no  cause  to  be 
dissatisfied  with  their  condition  ;  but  to  ac- 
quiesce in  the  unerring  disposal  of  Provi- 
dence, and  cheerfully  contribute  their  share 
to  the  common  good.  The  highest  should 
condescend  to  men  of  low  estate,  and  main- 
tain a  regard  to  the  well-being  of  the  poorest, 
as  that  which  is  intimately  connected  with 
their  own.  In  a  word,  each  should  feel  a 
tender  concern  for  all ;  rejoicing  in  their 
liappiness,  and  studying  to  establish  it; 
sympathizing  with  their  miseries,  and  en- 
deavouring to  heal  them. 

I  am  sure  my  Theron  will  be  pleased  with 
this  fine  comparison  used  by  the  apostle,  and 
adapted  to  purposes  at  once  so  noble  and 
so  benevolent ;  especially  as  it  receives  ad- 
ditional propriety  and  force  from  his  own 
observations.  But  I  have  one  more  inquiry 
to  make. 

Your  system,  though  organized,  though 
endiied  with  a  principal  of  motion,  and  fur- 
nished with  the  powers  of  nutrition,  is  still 
aestitute  of  sense.  The  creation  abounds 
with  objects  fitted  to  yield  the  most  refined 
entertainment :  The  sun  impurples  the  robes 
of  morning,  and  stars  bespangle  the  curtains 
of  night :  Flowers  of  silver  whiteness,  and 
of  golden  lustre,  enamel  the  ground  :  Fruits 
of  all  radiant  hues,  and  of  every  delicious 
uiste,  hang  amiably  dangling  on  the  boughs. 

"Airs  also,  vernal  airs, 

Brcathin;;  the  smell  of  field  and  grove,  attune 
The  trembling  leaves." 

But  we  hear  of  no  capacities  formed  for 
the  enjoyment  of  these  various  delights ; 
without  which,  the  breath  of  fields  must 
aOsc  its  reviving  fragrance,  the  whispering 
grove  must  degenerate  into  sullen  silence, 
and  nature's  book  of  knowledge,  all  fair  and 
instructive,  be  no  better  than  a  vast  un- 
meaning blank. 

Ther.  Therefore  the  great  Creator,  pro- 
fusely gracious  to  mankind,  has  made  us  a 
present,  an  inestimable  present,  of  the 
senses,  to  be  the  inlet  of  iimumerable  plea- 
sures, and  the  means  of  administering  the 
most  valuable  advantages. 

High  in  the  head,  bright  and  conspicuous 
as  a  stai-  in  the  brow  of  evening,  is   placed 


tl.o  eye.  In  this  elevated  situation,  like  a 
ccntinel  posted  in  his  watch-tower,  it  com- 
mands the  most  enlarged  prospect Con- 
sisting only  of  simple  fluids,  enclosed  in  thin 
tunicles,  it  conveys  to  our  apprehension  all 
the  graces  of  blooming  nature,  and  all  the 
glories  of  the  visible  heavens.  How  pro- 
digiously wonderful  that  an  image  of  the 
hugest  mountains,  and  a  transcript  of  the 
most  diversified  landscapes,  shall  enter  the 
smallest  circlet  of  the  pupil  ?  How  surpris- 
ingly artful,  that  the  rays  of  light,  like  an 
inimitable  pencil,  shoidd  paint  on  the  optic 
nerves,  paint,  in  an  instant  of  time,  paint 
in  their  truest  colours  and  exactest  linea- 
ments, every  species  of  external  objects  ? 

The  eye  is  so  terider,  that  a  slight  acci- 
dent, scarce  perceivable  by  some  other  parts 
of  the  body,  woidd  be  very  injurious  to  its 
delicate  frame.  It  is  guarded  therefore 
with  remarkable  circumspection,  and  the 
most  solicitous  care — with  a  care  evidently 
proportioned  to  its  nice  texture  and  exten- 
sive usefulness.  It  is  intrenched  deep  in 
the  head,  and  bamcadoed  on  every  side 
with  a  strong  fortification  of  bones.  As 
the  incursion  of  the  smallest  fly  woidd  in- 
commode the  polished  surfixce,  it  is  farther 
defended  by  two  substantial  curtains,  hung 
on  a  most  slender  cartilaginous  rod,  which 
secure  it  not  barely  from  blows,  and  from 
any  hurtful  attrition,  but  also  from  eveiy 
troublesome  annoyance.  In  sleep,  when 
there  is  no  occasion  to  exercise  the  sense, 
but  an  absolute  necessity  to  protect  the  or- 
gan, these  curtains  spontaneously  close,  and 
never  fail  to  lie  shut.  At  any  time  they 
will  fly  together  with  a  motion  quick  as  the 
alarm  of  fear ;  I  had  almost  said,  quicker 
than  thought  itself.  At  all  times  they  are 
lined  with  an  extremely  fine  sponge,*  wet 
with  its  own  native  dews,  which  lubricate 
the  eyeball,  oil,  as  it  were,  its  wheels,  and 
fit  it  for  a  course  of  unwearied  activity.  At 
the  end  of  this  skinny  mantlet,  (if  I  may 
use  the  military  style,)  is  planted  a  range 
of  bristly  palisadoes,f  which  keep  out  the 
least  mote,  ward oif  even  the  straggling  atom, 
and  moderate  the  otherwise  too  potent  im- 
pressions of  the  sunbeams.^ 


t  Theglandulalachrymalisand  its  ducts,  opening 
on  the  inner  part  of  the  eyelid,  and  secreting  the 
fluid,  which  Theron  calls  its  oil,  because  it  irrigates 
the  eyeball,  and  facilitates  its  motion. 

t  The  hairs,  which  arise  upon  the  extremities  of 
the  eyelash,  grow  only  toa  certain  convenient  length, 
and  never  stand  in  need  of  cutting.  They  are  not 
flaccid  and  pendulous,  like  those  of  the  head  ;  but 
still'  and  prominent,  like  bristles.  The  first  sort 
would  be  troublesome,  the  last  is  beneficial.  Add  to 
this,  that  their  points  stand  out  of  the  way,  those  of 
the  upper  eyelid  being  bent  upwards,  and  those  of 
the  lower  downwards.  So  nice  is  nature,  even  in  such 
small  matters. 

t  The  incessant,  the  more  than  fatherly  care,  which 
the  Lord  God  Almighty  takes  of  his  people,  is  repre- 
sented in  scripture  by  this  extraordinary  provision 
made  for  the  security  of  the  eye :  which  is  one  of  the 
finest  images  that  fancy  can  form,  and  one  of  Oie  most 


DIALOGUE  XII. 


291 


The  brows  are  a  kind  of  natural  pent-  j 
house,  thatched  and  arched  with  cinious 
wreaths  of  hair.  The  thatch  is  intended  to 
divert  the  sweat  from  trickhng  into  the 
eyes,  and  offending  them  with  its  brine. 
The  arches  are  so  finely  coloured,  and  so 
elegantly  turned,  that  they  set  off  the  white- 
ness of  the  forehead,  and  bestow  additional 
grace  on  the  whole  countenance.  Because, 
in  our  waking  hours,  there  is  almost  an  in- 
cessant call  for  those  little  orbs,  they  run 
upon  a  set  of  the  finest  casters,  rolling  up- 
wards or  downwards,  to  the  right  hand  or 
to  the  left,  with  the  utmost  speed  and  with 
equal  ease ;  which  circumstance,  added  to 
the  flexibility  of  the  neck,  renders  our  two 
eyes  as  useful,  as  if  the  whole  body,  like 
the  living  creatures  in  St.  John's  vision, 
was  "  full  of  eyes  before  and  behind." 
(Rev.  iv.  6.) 

The  ear  consists  of  an  outward  porch 
and  inner  rooms,  with  tools  of  the  most  ad- 
mirable contrivance  and  finished  workman- 
ship. The  contrivance  and  the  workman- 
ship incomparably  nicer  than  the  designs  of 
Palladio,  or  the  architecture  of  Solomon's 
temple,  though  the  former  were  drawn  from 
the  magnificent  monuments  of  Rome, 
though  the  latter  was  built  in  the  taste  of 
heaven.  Yea,  so  consummately  nice  is  the 
structure  of  this  organ,  that  God,  the  only 
wise  God,  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  its 
artificer,  "  He  that  planted  the  ear,"  (Psal. 
xciv.  9.)  is  to  be  found  among  the  titles  of 
the  exalted  Jehovah.  In  one  very  remark- 
able peculiarity,  this  minute  fabric  resem- 
bles that  sacred  edifice,  the  porch  being 
loftier*  than  any  other  part  of  the  building. 

The  porch  I  call  that  semicircular  lodge 
which  stands  somewhat  prominent  from  the 
liead,  and  is — not  soft  and  sinking  as  flesh, 
lest  it  should  absorb  the  sound  rather  than 
promote  the  repercussion ;  not  hard  and 
stubborn  as  bone,  lest  it  .should  occasion 
painful  inconveniences,  when  we  repose 
ourselves  on  either  side  ;  but  of  a  cartila- 
ginous substance,  covered  with  a  tight  ex- 
pansion of  skin,  and  wrought  into  irregular 
bends  and  hollows,  which,  like  circling  hills, 
or  surrounding  rocky  shores,  collect  the 
wandering  undulations  of  the  air,  and  trans- 
mit them,  with  a  vigorous  impulse,  to  th-i 
finely  stretched  membrane  of  the  tympa- 
num.-f-     The  avenue,  or  narrow  entry,  is 


consolatory  truths  that  faith  can  believe.  "  He  kept 
him  as  the  ai>|ile  of  his  eye."  Deut.  xxxii.  10.  "He 
that  touchotn  yovi,  toucheth  the  .ijiple  of  his  eye." 
Zech.  ii. !).  The  reader  will  easily  see  that  the  com- 
parison, every  way  beautiful,  is  carried  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  energy  and  beauty  by  the  sacred  writers. 
Not  barely  tlie  eye,  liiit  the  apple  or  pupil  of  the  eye; 
the  tenderost  part  even  of  the  most  tender  member. 

t  Compare  1  Kings  vi.  2,  with  2  Chron.  iii.  4. 

t  So  called,  because  it  resembles  a  drum,  both  in 
figure  and  use;  being.",  fine  skin,  expanded  upon  a 
circle  of  tones,  and  over  a  polished  reverberating  ca- 
vity.   It  is  allectcd  by  tlie  vibration?  o(  the  external 


secured  from  the  insinuating  attempts  of 
little  insects,  by  a  morass  (shall  I  say  ?)  of 
bitter  and  viscous  matter;  disgustful  to 
their  taste,  and  embarrassing  to  their  feet. 
The  hammer  and  the  anvil,  the  stirrup  and 
the  drum,  the  winding  labyrinths,*  and  the 
sounding  galleries  ;  these  and  other  pieces 
of  mechanism,  all  instrumental  to  the  power 
of  hearing,  are  beyond  aU  description  cu- 
rious. 

Amazingly  nice  must  be  the  forma- 
tion, and  inconceivably  exact  the  tension  of 
the  auditory  nerves  ;  since  they  correspond 
with  the  smallest  tremors  of  the  atmosphere, 
and  easily  distinguish  their  most  subtile  vari- 
ations. With  the  gentle  gales  that  fan  us, 
or  even  with  the  ruder  blasts  that  assault 
us,  these  delicate  strings  are  but  little  affect- 
ed ;  whereas  they  are  perfect  unisons  with 
those  fine,  those  significant  agitations  of  the 
air,  which  the  acutest  touch  is  unable  to 
discern.  These  living  chords,  tuned  by  an 
almighty  hand,  and  diffused  through  the 
echoing  isles,  and  sonorous  cells — these  re- 
ceive the  impressions  of  sound,  and  propa- 
gate them  to  the  brain  :  Thesef  give  exist- 
tence  to  the  charms  of  music,  and  recipro- 
cate the  rational  entertainments  of  discourse. 
These  treat  my  Aspasio  with  the  melody  of 
the  woodland  choirs,  and  afford  me  the  su- 
perior pleasure  of  my  friend's  conversation. 

The  eye  perceives  only  the  objects  that 
are  before  it,  whereas  the  ear  warns  us  of 
transactions  that  pass  above  us,  behind  us, 
all  around  us.  The  eye  is  useless  amidst 
the  gloom  of  night,  and  cannot  carry  its  ob- 
servation through  the  bolted  door,  or  the 
closed  window-shutter  ;  but  the  ear  admits 
her  intelligence  through  the  darkest  me- 
dium, and  the  minutest  cranny.  The  eye 
is  upon  duty  only  in  our  waking  hours; 
but  the  ear  is  always  expanded,  and  always 
accessible ;  a  courier  which  never  tires,  a 
centry  ever  in  his  box.  To  secure  a  re- 
soiurce,  in  case  any  misfortune  shoidd  dis- 


air,  as  the  covering  of  the  war-drum  is  by  the  impres. 
sions  of  the  stick.  It  is  also  furnished  with  braces, 
which  strain  or  relax  it  at  pleasure,  and  accommodate 
its  tension  either  to  loud  or  languid  sounds. 

*  Of  this  kind  is  the  au<litory  tube,  intended  to 
soften  and  qualify  the  rushing  sound ;  lest,  if  the  in- 
cursion were  direct,  it  might  be  too  impetuous,  and 
injure  the  delicate  expanse  of  the  tympanum.  While 
this  is  designed  to  moderate,  the  concavities  of  the 
inner  structure  are  prepared  to  heighten  and  invigo- 
rate the  sound,  by  callmg  in  the  auxiliary  force  of  an 
echo.  Such  intentions,  :5o  varying,  nay,  so  opposite, 
concur  to  form  this  admirable  organ. 

f  Elegantly  styled  "the  daughters  of  music."  For 
this  phrase  may  refer  as  well  to  the  organs  which  dis- 
tinguish, as  to  those  which  form,  the  h.armonious 
accents,  Keel.  xii.  4.  Methinks,  1  am  always  desir- 
ous to  add  any  apposite  expression,  or  para'llel  pas- 
sage, from  the  Hible;  as  I  find,  writers  of  taste  and 
politeness  are  studious  to  embellish  their  work  with 
iliiotationsfrom  the  (U.assics.  And  I  persuade  myself, 
the  reader  will  allow  me  to  gratify  this  favourite  in- 
clination :  because  every  portion  of  that  inestim- 
able book,  however  minute,  is  like  the  filings  of 
gold,  or  the  sparks  of  a  di.amond  ;  is  sure,  when  pro- 
perly applied,  to  add  worth,  and  impart  beauty. 


292 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


able  one  of  the  hearing  or  seeing  organs, 
our  all-gracious  Maker  has  given  us  dupli- 
cates of  each. 

As  there  are  tremulous  concussions  im- 
pressed upon  the  air,  discernible  only  by 
the  instruments  of  hearing ;  there  are  also 
odoriferous  particles,  wafted  by  the  same 
aereal  vehicle,  which  are  perceivable  only 
by  the  smell.  The  nostrils  are  wide  at  the 
bottom,  that  a  large  quantity  of  effluvia 
may  enter  ;  narrow  at  the  top,  that,  when 
entered  they  may  close  their  ranks,  and  act 
with  greater  vigour.  Fine  beyond  all  ima- 
gination are  the  steams  which  exhale  from 
the  fetid  or  fragrant  bodies-  The  very 
best  microscopes,  which  discover  thousands 
and  thousands  of  animalculae  in  a  drop  of 
putrefied  water,  cannot  bring  one  individual 
among  all  these  evanescent  legions  to  our 
sight.  They  sail  in  numberless  squadrons, 
close  to  our  eyes,  close  by  our  ears ;  yet 
are  so  amazingly  attenuated,  that  they  elude 
the  search  of  both.  Nevertheless,  so  judi- 
ciously are  the  olfactory  nets  laid,*  and  so 
artfully  their  meshes  sized,  that  they  catch 
these  vanishing  fugitives.  They  catch  the 
roaming  perfumes  which  fly  off  from  the 
opening  honey-suckle  ;  and  take  in  the 
stationed  sweets  which  hover  round  the  ex- 
panded rose.  They  imbibe  all  the  balmy 
fragrance  of  spring,  all  the  aromatic  exhala- 
tions of  autumn,  and  enable  us  to  banquet 
even  oji  the  invisible  dainties  of  nature. 

Furnished  with  these  several  organs, 


-Not  a  breeze 


Flies  o'er  the  meadow,  not  a  cloud  imbibes 
The  setting  sun's  effulgence,  not  a  strain 
From  all  the  tenants  of  the  warbling  shade 
Ascends,  but  thence  our  senses  can  partake 
Fresh  pleasures,  t 

Another  capacity  for  frequent  pleasure 
our  bountiful  Creator  has  bestowed,  in 
granting  us  the  powers  of  taste.     By  means 


*  The  keenness  and  sagacity  of  this  sense  furnish- 
ed the  evangelical  prophet  with  a  beautiful  metaphor, 
to  display  the  accuracy  of  the  Messiah's  judgment  in 
spiritual  things,  Isa.  xi.  3. 

The  original  implies  his  faculty  or  sense  of  smell- 
ing: which  expression  is  accommodated  to  our  lan- 
guage, and  properly  enough  translated,  "shall  make 
him  of  quick  understanding,"  q.  d.  "  He  shall  judge, 
not  according  to  external  appearance,  but  according 
to  the  state  of  the  inner  man.  Unfeigned  self  abase- 
ment, affiance  in  a  Redeemer's  righteousne^,  and 
faith  purifying  the  heart;  these  endowments,  though 
not  observed,  or  if  observed  not  valued  by  the  world ; 
these  shall  be  the  test  of  his  approbation,  and  the  ob- 
jects of  his  esteem.  These  constitute  what  is  called 
in  the  next  words,  the  fear  of  the  Lord. 

"  In  determining  the  reality  of  these  qualities,  he 
shall  be  unerringly  exact,  and  infallibly  true.  Let 
hypocrisy  put  on  every  mask,  and  practise  all  her 
wiles,  they  shall  avail  nothing  before  the  Root 
and  Offspring  of  David,  (ver.  1.)  As  those  extremely 
subtle  effluvia,  which  escape  the  inquisition  of  every 
other  sense,  are  easily  and  perfectly  distinguished  by 
the  smell :  so  those  recesses  of  the  breast,  and  those 
secrets  of  the  heart  which  lie  too  deep  for  all  human 
discernment;  even  they  are  naked  and  open,  are 
obvious  and  palpable,  to  his  divinely  sagacious  un- 
derstanding. ' 

t  See  that  very  elegant  poem,  "  The  I'leasures  of 
Imagination  "  book  3. 


of  which,  the  food  that  supports  oiu-  body, 
feasts  our  palate ;  first  treats  us  with  a  pleas- 
ing regale,  then  distributes  its  beneficial  re- 
cruits. The  razor,  whetted  with  oil,  be- 
comes more  exquisitely  keen.  The  saliva, 
flowing  upon  the  tongue,  and  moistening 
its  nerves,  quickens  them  into  the  liveliest 
acts  of  sensation.  This  sense  is  circum- 
stanced in  a  manner  peculiarly  benign  and 
wise,  so  as  to  be  a  standing,  though  silent 
plea  for  temperance.  Without  recurring  to 
the  vengeance  of  God,  or  the  terrors  of  eter- 
nal judgment,  it  is  a  powerful  dissuasive 
from  irregular  and  excessive  indulgences  ; 
because  the  exercise  of  sobriety  sets  the  fin- 
est edge  on  its  faculties,  and  adds  the  most 
poignant  relish  to  its  enjoyments  :  Where- 
as, riot  and  voluptuousness  pall  the  appe- 
tite, blunt  its  sensibility,  and  render  the  gra- 
tifications extremely  languid,  if  not  perfectly 
insipid.  The  sight,  the  smell,  the  taste,  are 
not  only  so  many  separate  sources  of  de- 
light, but  a  joint  security  to  our  health. 
They  are  the  vigilant  and  acciu-ate  inspect- 
ors, which  examine  oiu-  food,  and  inquire 
into  its  properties,  whether  it  be  pleasant 
or  disagreeable,  wholesome  or  noxious.  For 
the  discharge  of  this  office  they  are  excel- 
lently qualified,  and  most  commodiously 
situated ;  so  that  nothing  can  gain  admis- 
sion through  the  mouth,  till  it  has  under- 
gone the  scrutiny,  and  obtained  the  passport 
of  them  all. 

To  all  these,  as  a  most  necessary  and 
advantageous  supplement,  is  added  the  sense 
of  feeling,  which  renders  the  whole  assem- 
blage complete.  While  other  senses  have  a 
particular  place  of  residence,  this  is  diffused 
throughout  the  whole  body.  In  the  palms 
of  the  hands,  on  the  tips  of  the  fingers,  and 
indeed  through  all  the  extreme  parts  of  the 
flesh,  it  is  most  quick  and  lively  ;  as  the  ad- 
vanced guards,  or  scouts  upon  the  frontiers, 
are,  or  ought  to  be,  peculiarly  attentive  and 
wakeful.  Scouts  did  I  say  ?  The  whole  ar- 
my of  Xerxes,  drawn  out  in  battle  array, 
with  his  millions  of  supernumerary  attend- 
ants,* were  but  like  a  few  gleaners  strag- 
gling in  the  field,  if  compared,  either  in 
number  or  order,  with  those  nervous  detach- 
ments, which  pervade  the  texture  of  the 
skin,  and  minister  to  the  act  of  feeling. 
How  happily  is  this  sense  tempered  be- 
tween  the  two  extremes  !  Neither  so  acute 
as  the  membranes  of  the  eye,  nor  so  obtuse 
as  the  callus  of  the  heel.  The  former 
would  expose  us  to  continual  pain,  render 
our  clothes  galling,  and  the  very  down  op- 
pressive :  The  latter  would  quite  benumb 
the  body,  and  almost  annihilate  the  touch. 
Nor  this  alone,  but  all  the  senses  are  most 

*  The  soldiers  and  attendants  of  Xerxes  amount- 
ed to  five  millions  two  hundrett  and  eighty  thousand. 
Another  army,  so  large  and  numcnnis,  occurs  not  in 
all  tlie   ixcords  of  historv.— Ti'/c  llKuoo  lib.  vii. 


DIALOGUE  XII. 


293 


exactly  adapted  to  their  respective  offices, 
and  to  the  exigencies  of  our  present  state- 
Were  they  strained  to  a  much  higher 
tone,  they  would  be  avenues  of  anguish  : 
Were  they  relaxed  into  greater  insensibili- 
ty, they  would  be  so  many  useless  incum- 
brances. 

Asp.  How  admirable  and  gracious  is  this 
provision,  which  the  blessed  God  has  made, 
to  accommodate  us  with  delightful  sensa- 
tions, and  instructive  ideas  !  Tlie  taste,  the 
touch  and  the  smell,  are  somewhat  straitened 
in  the  extent  of  their  operations.  The  ear 
carries  on  a  correspondence  with  a  larger 
circle  of  objects ;  but  the  sight  most  amply 
supplies  whatever  is  wanting  in  all  the  other 
senses.  The  sight  spreads  itself  to  an  in- 
finite multitude  of  bodies,  and  brings  with- 
in our  notice  some  of  the  remotest  parts  of 
the  universe.  The  taste  the  touch,  the 
smell  perceive  nothing  but  what  is  brought 
to  their  vci-y  doors  ;  whereas  the  eye  extends 
its  observation  as  far  as  the  orbit  of  Sa- 
turn ;  nay  glances,  and  in  an  instant  of  time, 
to  the  inconceivable  distance  of  the  stars. 
The  compass  of  the  earth,  and  the  im- 
mensity of  the  skies,  are  its  unlimited  range. 

From  this  remarkable  variety,  with  re 
gard  to  the  sphere  and  activity  of  the  senses, 
St.  Paul  forms  one  of  the  finest,  boldest, 
and  most  important  comparisons  in  the 
world.  By  this  he  illustrates  the  difference 
between  the  wisdom  which  is  derived  from 
the  word  of  divine  revelation,  and  the  wis- 
dom which  is  acquired  by  dint  of  human  ap- 
plication. In  his  oration  to  the  Athenians, 
speaking  of  their  most  celebrated  sages,  he 
says,  "  If  so  be  they  might  feel  after,  and 
find  him."  Acts  xvii.  27.  In  his  epistle  to 
tlie  Hebrews,  speaking  of  the  man  Moses, 
our  author  observes,  that  •'  he  endured,  as 
seeing  him  who  is  invisible."  Heb.  xi.  27. 
Writing  to  his  Corinthian  converts,  he  adds, 
as  a  farther  heightening  of  the  contrast,  "  We 
all  beholding  with  open  face  the  glory  of  the 
Lord."  2  Cor.  iii.  18.  The  knowledge  of 
the  philosopher  is  like  that  obscure  and 
scanty  information,  which  is  to  be  obtained 
by  groping  with  the  hand  in  a  dark  night : 
The  knowledge  of  the  Christian  is  like  that 
copious  influx  of  clear  and  enlarged  ideas, 
which  we  receive  by  the  mediation  of  the 
eye  amidst  the  shining  of  a  bright  day. 

Tully,  we  find,  has  in  the  book  before  us 
hit  upon  some  of  the  most  general  and  ob- 
vious uses,  to  which  the  several  parts  of  the 
human  body  are  adai»ted.  Yet  how  super- 
ficial and  deficient  a])])oars  his  penetration, 
when  we  take  in  the  much  deeper  disco- 
veries and  the  much  higher  improvements 
of  our  modem  anatomy  !  Thus,  and  abun- 
dantly mure  defective,  is  his  knowledge  of 
moral  duties  and  divine  doctrines,  when 
compared  with  what  is  taught  us  in  the 
plain    sermon     on    tlie     Mount,    and    the 


unstudied  epistles  of  the  Jewish  tent- 
maker. 

Therefore,  though  I  would  bless  the  be- 
neficent God,  for  the  ministration  of  all  the 
senses,  and  particularly  for  the  noble  organs 
of  vision ;  I  woidd  be  more  especially  thank- 
ful for  that  light  of  the  world,  Christ  Jesus, 
and  his  glorious  gospel,  as  well  as  for  that 
"spiritual  eye,"  by  which  the  one  is  under- 
stood, and  the  other  seen, — a  "  lively  faith." 
I  would  also  long  for  that  place  of  beatific 
enjoyment,  where  our  views  of  the  adorable 
Godhead,  and  our  acquaintance  with  the 
sublimest  truths,  will  as  much  transcend  all 
our  present  apprehensions,  as  the  most 
enlightened  sahit  exceeds  the  benighted 
Gentile. 

TTier.  The  crowning  gift — that  which 
improves  the  satisfaction,  and  augments  the 
beneficial  effects,  accruing  from  all  the 
senses,  is  speech.  Speech  makes  me  a 
gainer  from  the  eyes  and  ears  of  other  peo- 
ple ;  from  the  ideas  they  conceive,  and  the 
observations  they  make.  And  what  an 
admirable  instrument  for  articulating  the 
voice,  and  modifying  it  into  speech,  is  the 
tongue  !  The  tongue  has  neither  bone  nor 
joint ;  yet  fashions  itself,  with  the  utmost 
volubility,  into  every  shape  and  every  pos- 
ture, which  can  express  sentiment,  or  con- 
stitute harmony.  This  little  collection  of 
muscidar  fibres,  under  the  conducting  skill 
of  the  Creator,  is  the  artificer  of  our  words.* 
By  this  we  communicate  the  secrets  of  the 
breast,  and  make  our  very  thoughts  audible. 
By  this  we  instruct  the  ignorant,  and  com- 
fort the  distressed;  we  glorify  God,  and 
edify  each  other  :f  the  academic  explains 
the  abstrusest  sciences,  and  the  ecclesiastic 
preaches  the  everlasting  gospel.  This  is 
likewise  the  efficient  of  music.  It  is  soft 
as  the  lute,  or  shrill  as  the  trumpet ;  it  can 
warble  as  the  lyre,  or  resound  like  the  or- 
gan. Connecting  the  sacred  anthem  with 
its  tuneful  strains,  we  soothe  the  cares,  and 
beguile  the  toils  of  life  ;  we  imitate  the  an- 
gelic choirs,  and  anticipate  in  some  degree 
their  celestial  joys.  As  the  tongue  requires 
full  scope  and  an  easy  play,  it  is  lodged  in 
an  ample  cavity,  and  surrounded  with  re- 
servoirs of  spittle,  always  ready  to  distil  the 
lubricating  dews.      It  moves  under  a  coii- 


»  I  am  sensible  that  the  glottis  has  a  considerable 
share  in  modulating  the  sound,  and  forming  the 
voice.  But  as  the  nat\ire  and  oIKce  of  this  most  cu- 
rious aperture  are  very  little  known  by  the  generality 
of  people;  we  choose  to  tVillow  the  popular  opinion  so 
neatly  described  by  the  poet ; 

"  l)a>dala  lingua, 

"  Lingua  figuratrix  verborum,  opisexiiue  loquelae." 
Ant.  Lncret. 
t  The  articulating  tongue  is  called  "  our  glory." 
Psal.  Ivii.  8.     And  such  indeed  it  is  when  devoted  to  . 
these  purposes.     It  is  then  a  distinction,  not  only  of 
mail  from  the  brutal  herd,  but  of  the  righteous  from 
the   congregation  of  the  ungodly.      It   is   then  like 
choice  silver,  or  a  tree  of  life. 

"  Who  would  not  bless  for  this  the  gift  of  speech. 
And  in  the  tongue's  bBiitlicence  be  rich  r" 


294 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


cave  roof,  which  serves  as  a  sounding-board 
to  the  voice ;  giving  it  much  the  same  ad- 
ditional vigour  and  giace  as  the  shell  of  a 
violin  adds  to  the  language  of  the  strings. 

Wise,  wonderfully  wise  and  eminently 
gracious,  is  the  regulation  both  of  spontane- 
ous and  involuntary  motion.  Was  this  re- 
gulation reversed,  what  deplorable  inconve- 
niencies  would  take  place  ;  nay,  what  una- 
voidable ruin  must  ensue !  Deplorable  in- 
conveniencies  ;  if  the  discharges  of  the 
bowels,  or  evacuations  of  the  bladder,  were 
quite  independent  on  our  leave.  Unavoid- 
able ruin ;  if  the  action  of  the  heart  requir- 
ed the  co-operation  of  oiu'  thoughts,  or  the 
business  of  respiration  waited  for  the  con- 
currence of  our  will. 

The  wiU,  in  some  cases,  has  not  so  much 
as  a  single  vote  ;  in  others,  she  determines 
and  commands  like  an  absolute  sovereign  : 
Nor  is  there  a  monarch  upon  earth  so  punc- 
tually obeyed,  as  this  queen  of  the  human 
system.  If  she  but  intimate  her  pleasure, 
the  spirits  run,  they  fly  to  execute  her  or- 
ders ;  to  stretch  the  arm,  or  close  the  hand ; 
to  furrow  the  brow  with  frowns,  or  dimple 
the  cheek  with  smiles.  How  easily,  as  well 
as  punctually,  are  these  orders  carried  into 
execution  !  To  turn  the  screw,  or  work 
the  lever,  is  laborious  and  wearisome  :  But 
we  move  the  vertebrae,  with  all  their  append- 
ent  chambers  ;  we  advance  the  leg,  with  the 
whole  incumbent  body ;  we  rise  from  our 
seat  ;  we  spring  from*  the  ground ;  and 
though  much  force  is  exerted,  though  a  very 
considerable  weight  is  raised,  we  meet  with 
no  difficulty,  we  complain  of  no  fatigue. 

That  all  this  should  be  effected,  without 
any  toil,  and  by  a  bare  act  of  the  will,  is 
very  surprising :  But  that  these  motions 
should  be  made,  renewed,  continued,  even 
while  we  remain  entirely  ignorant  of  the 
manner  in  which  they  are  performed,  is  be- 
yond measure  astonishing.  Who  can  play 
so  much  as  a  single  tune  upon  the  spinnet, 
without  learning  the  difference  of  the  keys, 
or  studying  the  nidiments  of  music  ?  Im- 
possible !  Yet  the  mind  of  man  touches 
every  spring  of  the  human  machine  with  the 
most  masterly  skill,  though  she  knows  no- 
thing at  all  concerning  the  nature  of  her 
implements,  or  the  process  of  her  operations. 
We  walk,  we  lun,  we  leap  :  we  throw  oiu:- 
selves  into  a  variety  of  postiu-es,  and  perform 
a  multitude  of  motions ;  yet  are  utterly  un- 
able,to  say,  which  nerve  should  be  active, 
which  muscle  should  swell,  or  which  tendon 
approximate. 

Put  a  German  flute  into  the  hand  even 
of  a  sensible  person,  without  a  master  to 
instruct  him,  he  is  at  a  loss  to  make  the 
instrument  speak  ;  m\ich  less  is  he  able  to 
sink  and  soften  the  sound,  to  exalt  and  ex- 
tend it,  just  as  he  pleases  :  Yet  we  arc  self- 
taught  in  the  method  of  forming,  regulating. 


and  varying  the  voice.  Naturally,  and  mtb 
unpremeditated  fluency,  we  give  it  the  lan- 
guishing cadence  of  sorrow,  or  the  sprightly 
airs  of  joy ;  the  low  faultering  accents  of 
fear,  or  the  elevated  tone  tmd  rapid  sallies 
of  anger. 

The  eye  of  a  nistic,  who  has  no  notion 
of  optics,  or  any  of  its  laws,  shall  lengthen 
and  shorten  its  axis,  dilate  and  contract  its 
pupil,  without  the  least  hesitation,  and  with 
the  utmost  propriety ;  adapting  itself,  even 
with  mathematical  exactness,  to  the  parti- 
cular distance  of  objects,  and  the  different 
degrees  of  light :  By  which  means,  it  per- 
forms some  of  the  most  curious  experiments 
in  the  improved  Newtonian  philosophy, 
without  the  least  knowledge  of  the  science, 
or  so  much  as  any  consciousness  of  its  own 
dexterity. 

I  can  never  sufficiently  admire  this  mul- 
tiplicity of  animated  organs ;  their  finished 
form,  and  their  faultless  order.  Yet  I  must 
confess  myself  struck  with  greater  admira- 
tion at  the  power,  the  tnily  mysterious  pow- 
er and  sway,  which  the  soul  exercises  over 
them.  Ten  thousand  reins  are  put  into 
her  hand  :  she  is  not  acquainted  with  their 
office,  their  use  or  their  name  ;  she  has  not 
learned  so  much  as  to  distinguish  one  from 
another ;  nevertheless  she  manages  all,  con- 
ducts all,  without  the  least  perplexity,  or 
the  least  irregularity  ;  rather  with  a  promp- 
titude,  a  consistency,  and  a  speed,  which 
nothing  else  can  equal ! 

Upon  the  whole — great  reason  had  Eu- 
ripides to  call  the  human  body, 

'Sofa  TtKrovo;  xaXov  TToiHiXfiX, 

I  believe,  the  preceding  observations  will 
justify  us,  if  we  give  a  fuller  meaning  to  the 
poet,  and  translate  his  words — "  the  infinite- 
ly varied,  and  inimitably  fine  workmanship 
of  a  great,  supreme,  unerring  Artist."  Or, 
as  Virgil  speaks,  with  a  pertinency  and  a 
spirit  which  epitomises  all  I  have  said,  and 
expresses  all  I  would  say,  this  bodQy  struc- 
ture is  indeed — "  non  enarrabile  textum."* 
Asp.  "  Wonderfully,"  I  perceive,  "  and 
fearfully  are  we  made,"  (Psalm  cxxxix.  14.) 
Made  of  such  complicated  parts  ;  each  so 
correctly  fashioned,  and  all  so  exactly  ar- 
ranged ;f  every  one  executing  such  ciu'ious 
functions,  and  many  of  them  operating  in 
so  mysterious  a  manner,  as  may  justly  ren- 
der us  a  wonder  to  ourselves.    Since  health 


*  That  is,  a  structure,  not  barely  correct,  or  highly 
finished,  but  (as  Theron  has  elsewhere  expressed  it) 
"  beyond  description  curious." 

t  St.  Paul's  language  on  tlie  subject,  is  exceedingly 
beautiful  and  expressive,  "Zwa^/^oXoynfi-^viv  xa.i 
o'v/nfiifiix-^of/.ivov.  Eph.  iv.  16.  The  several  parts 
most  nicely  adapted  to  each  other,  and  most  perfectly 
harmonizing  with  the  whole.  All  associated  with 
that  propriety,  and  connected  with  that  firmness, 
which  are  the  very  foundation  of  symmetry,  vigour, 
and  agility. 


DIALOGUE  XII. 


2f)5 


depends  upon  such  a  numerous  assemblage 
of  moving  organs  ;  since  a  single  secretion 
stopped  may  destroy  the  salutary  tempera- 
ture of  the  fluids;  or  a  single  wheel  clogged 
m.iy  put  an  end  to  the  vital  motion  of  the 
solids  ;  with  what  "  holy  fear  should  we 
pass  the  time  of  our  sojourning  here  below," 
(  Pet.  i.  17.)  tnisting,  for  continual  preser- 
vation, not  merely  on  our  own  care,  but  on 
that  omnipotent  hand  which  formed  the  ad- 
mirable machine  ;  that  the  same  hand  which 
formed  it,  may  superintend  its  agency,  and 
support  its  being. 

When  we  consider  the  extensive  contriv- 
ance and  delicate  mechanism— what  plans 
of  geometry  have  been  laid  ;  what  opera- 
tions of  chemistry  are  performed ;  in  a  word, 
what  miracles  of  art  and  elegance  are  exe- 
cuted, in  order  to  furnish  us  with  the  neces- 
sary recruits,  and  the  several  delights  of 
life ; — is  there  not  abundant  reason  to 
cry  out,with  the  same  inspired  writer,  "  How 
dear  are  thy  counsels  imto  me,  O  God  !" 
"  Thy  counsels  of  creating  wisdom  !  .thou 
hast  not  been  sparing,  but  even  lavish  of 
thy  indulgent  designs.  Thou  hast  omitted 
no  expedient  which  might  establish  my  ease, 
enlarge  my  comforts,  and  promote,  yea,  com- 
plete my  bodily  happiness  !"  And  is  not 
this  a  most  endearing  obligation  "  to  glori- 
fy the  blessed  God,  with  our  bodies,  as  well 
as  with  our  spirits?"  (1  Cor.  vi.  20.) 

Ther.  "  Our  spirits  !"  Ay ;  What  is  this 
mansion  of  flesh,  though  so  exfpiisitely 
wrought,  compared  with  the  noble  and 
immortal  inhabitant  which  resides  with- 
in? 

That  intellectual  Being ; 

Those  thoughts,  which  wander  through  eternity  ! 

Milton. 

This  consideration  inclines  me  to  think, 
that  if  the  casket  be  so  highly  polished,  the 
jewel  cannot  be  so  excessively  coarse  as  my 
Aspasio's  doctrine  of  original  corruption  sup- 
poses. 

Asp.  I  perceive  your  aim,  Theron  ;  but 
must  beg  leave  at  present  to  decline  all 
overtui'cs  for  a  dispute.  If  my  arguments 
have  failed,  your  description  has  answered 
its  end.  I  cannot  suffer  my  thoughts  to  be 
diverted  from  a  subject  which  is  so  very  en- 
gaging, yet  so  rarely  discussed.  I  have  such 
•A  strong  desire  to  recollect  and  retain  what 
has  been  observed,  that  even  your  conversa- 
tion will  at  this  juncture  lose  its  relish. 
Here,  therefore,  I  put  a  period  to  our  dis- 
course, and  must  break  away  from  your 
company,  in  order  to  ruminate  and  digest 
my  notions  in  some  sequestered  lonely  walk. 
Unless  you  will  permit  me,  before  I  retire, 
to  make  one  remark.  And  let  it  not  startle 
my  friend  if  I  venture  to  say,  that,  amidst 
all  his  curious  observations,  he  has  forgot 
the  princij)al  circumstance  of  honour  and 
excellence  which  dignifies  the  human  body. 


Ther.  I  have  omitted  matiy  fine  and  ad- 
mirable properties  I  confess.  But  sure  I 
have  not  forgot  the  principal  and  most  dis- 
tinguishing. 

Asp.  You  need  not  be  displeased  with 
yourself.  It  argues  no  defect  in  your  disser- 
tation. The  circumstances  I  hiive  in  my 
view  could  never  be  discovered  by  following 
the  dissecting  knife.  It  is  leanied,  not  from 
Cheselden's  draughts,  or  the  tables  of  Al- 
binus,  but  from  the  word  of  revelation. — 
What  I  mean  is  this  :  the  human  body  was 
exalted  to  a  most  intimate  and  personal 
union  with  the  eternal  Son  of  God.  He 
who  decorated  the  heaven  with  stars,  and 
crowned  the  stars  with  lustre,  "  he  vouch- 
safed to  be  made  flesh,"  (John.  i.  14.)  "  and 
was  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,"  (Phil.  ii.  8.) 
Nay,  this  is  even  now  the  apjiarel  of  that 
di\'ine  and  adorable  Person.  He  is  clothed 
with  our  nature  ;  he  wears  our  very  limbs, 
and  appears  in  the  dress  of  humanity,  even 
at  the  right  hand  of  God,  and  at  the  head 
of  all  the  heavenly  hosts. 

What  think  you  of  another  privilege, 
mentioned  by  the  apostle  ?  "  Your  bodies 
are  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  (1  Cor. 
vi.  19.)  Not  your  souls  only,  but  your  very 
bodies  are  the  shrine  in  which  "  the  liigh 
and  holy  One  that  inhabitcth  eternity," 
condescends  to  dwell.  He  who  sitteth  be- 
tween the  cherubim,  and  walketh  in  the 
circuit  of  the  skies,  is  pleased  to  sanctify 
these  earthly  tenements  for  his  own  habita- 
tion. And  is  not  this  a  much  grander  em- 
bellishment than  all  their  matchless  con- 
trivance and  masterly  workmanship  ?  Just 
as  the  rod  which  budded,  and  the  manna 
which  was  miraculously  preserved  ;  the  sa- 
cred oracle  of  Urim  and  Thummim,  with 
the  cloud  of  glory  covering  the  mercy-seat ; 
were  a  much  higher  distinction  to  Solomon's 
temple,  than  the  most  heightened  beauties 
of  architecture. 

Nor  must  I  omit  the  dignity,  the  trans- 
cendent and  amazing  dignity,  which  is  re- 
served for  these  systems  of  flesh  at  the  re- 
surrection of  the  just.  They  will  then  be 
refined  and  improved  into  the  most  perfect 
state,  and  the  most  beauteous  form ;  surpassing 
whatever  is  resplendent  and  amiable  in  the 
most  ornamental  appearances  of  material 
nature.  They  will  be  purer  than  the  un- 
si)otted  firmament ;  brighter  than  the  lustre 
of  the  stars  ;  and,  which  exceeds  all  paral- 
lel, which  comprehends  all  perfection,  they 
will  "be  made  like  inito  Christ's  glorious 
body,"  (  Phil.  iii.  21.)  like  that  incompar- 
ably-glorious body  which  the  blessed  Jesus 
wears  in  his  celestial  kingdom,  and  on  his 
trium]ihanl  throne- 
When  we  add  all  these  magnificent  pre- 
rogatives which  are  revealed  in  scri])ture, 
to  all  those  inimitable  niceties  which  are 
(li.splayed  by  anatomists,  what  thankfulness. 


296 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO 


what  admii'ation,  can  equal  sueh  a  profu- 
<H)n  ol'  favours  ? 

When  all  thy  mercies,  O  my  God, 

My  rising  soul  surveys. 
Transported  with  the  view,  I'm  lost 

In  wonder,  love,  and  praise! 


DIALOGUE  XIII. 

The  morning  had  been  wet.  At  noon, 
the  rain  ceased  ;  but  the  heavens  still  con- 
tinued gloomy.  Towards  evening  a  gen- 
tle eastern  gale  sprung  up,  which  dissipated 
the  dead  calm,  and  cleared  the  face  of  the 
sky.  The  sun,  which  had  been  muffled  in 
clouds,  dropped  the  veil.  Disengaged  from 
the  dusky  shroud,  he  shone  forth  with  pe- 
cidiar  splendour.  His  beams,  endeared  by 
their  late  suspension,  were  doubly  welcome, 
and  produced  imusual  gaiety. 

At  this  juncture  Theron  and  Aspasio 
walked  abroad.  They  walked  alternately 
on  the  terraces  ;  one  of  which  was  opposite 
to  the  country,  the  other  contiguous  to  the 
parterre ;  where  the  gales,  impregnated  with 
the  freshest  exhalations  of  nature,  breathed 
the  smeU  of  meads,  and  heaths,  and  groves  ; 
or  else,  shaking  the  clusters  of  roses,  and 
sweepmg  the  beds  of  fragrance,  they  flung 
balm  and  odours  through  the  air. 

At  a  distance  were  heard  the  bleatings 
of  the  flock,  mingled  with  the  lowings  of 
the  milky  mothers  ;  while  more  melodious 
music  warbled  from  the  neighbouring 
boughs,  and  spoke  aloud  the  joy  of  'their 
feathered  inhabitants  ; — and  not  only  spoke 
their  joy,  but  spread  an  additional  charm 
over  aJ  the  landscape.  For,  amidst  such 
strains  of  native  harmony,  the  breathing 
perfumes  smell  more  sweet,  the  streaming 
riUs  shine  more  clear,  and  the  imiversal 
prospect  looks  more  gay. 

Then  was  experienced,  what  Milton  so 
delicately  describes : 

If  chance  the  radiant  sun  with  farewell  sweet 
Extend  his  evening  beam,  the  fields  revive. 
The  birds  their  notes  renew,  and  bleating  herds 
Attest  their  joy,  that  hill  and  valley  rings. 

With  wonder  and  delight  our  friends  ob- 
served both  the  exquisite  beauty  and  the 
immense  magnificence  of  things. — They 
were  struck  with  the  most  profound  vene- 
ration of  that  almighty  Majesty,  who  hung 
the  sun  in  vaults  of  azure,  and  clothed  his 
orb  with  robes  of  lustre ;  "  whose  right 
hand  spanneth  the  heavens,"  ( Isaiah  xlviii. 
13,)  "  and  stretcheth  them  out  as  a  tent," 
for  innumerable  creatures,  worlds,  systems 
"to  dwell  in."  (Isaiah  xl.  22. )— Charmed 
they  were  at  the  consideration  of  the  Crea- 
tor's boundless  beneficence  ;  who  lifts  up 
the  light  of  his  countenance,  and  joy  is  shed  ; 
who  opens  his  munificent  hand,  and  plenty 
is  poured  throughout  all  the  regions  of  the 


universe.  InsomiK-h,  that  even  inanimate 
beings  seem  to  smile  under  a  sense  of  th« 
blessings  ;  and  though  they  find  not  a  tongue 
to  praise,  yet  speak  their  acclamations  by 
their  gladdened  looks. 

Ther.  How  very  different,  Aspasio,  is 
this  delightful  appearance  of  things,  from 
your  ill-favoured  doctrine  of  original  guilt 
and  original  depravity !  Your  doctrine  is  a 
contradiction  to  the  language  of  nature. 
Nature  says,  through  all  her  works,  "  that 
God  is  good,  and  men  are  made  to  be  hap- 
py." Whereas,  your  opinion  would  turn 
the  whole  world  into  a  vast  hospital,  and 
make  every  individual  person  a  leper  or  a 
Lazarus 

Asp.  I  join  with  my  Theron,  and  with 
universal  natinre,  in  bearing  witness  to  the 
goodness  of  our  God.  And  nothing,  I  am 
persuaded,  displays  it  more,  nothing  mani- 
fests it  so  much,  as  the  doctrine  of  our  fall 
in  Adam,  connected  with  our  recovery  in 
Christ.— Only  in  one  particular  I  am  obliged 
to  dissent.  It  is  not  my  opinion  that  would 
make,  but  the  sin  of  our  forefather  which 
has  made,  the  whole  world  an  infirmary, 
and  every  individual  person  a  leper. 

Ther.  At  this  rate,  you  would  crowd  into 
that  single  act  of  disobedience,  evils  mure 
numerous,  and  more  fatal,  than  the  plag^ies 
which  were  lodged  in  Pandora's  box,  or  the 
troops  which  were  stowed  in  the  Trojan 
horse. 

Asp.  Far  more  numerous,  and  infinitely 
more  pernicious.  The  fable  of  Pandora's 
box  seems  to  have  been  a  shred  of  the  doc- 
trine, picked  up  by  the  heathen  wits,  and 
fashioned  according  to  their  sportive  fancy  : 
This  woidd,  if  there  was  any  occasion  for 
such  vv'eak  assistance,  bring  in  the  Pagan 
theology,  as  a  subsidiary  evidence  to  our 
cause.  The  Trojan  horse  poured  ruin  upon 
a  single  city ;  but  the  primitive  transgres- 
sion entailed  misery  upon  all  generations. 

Ther.  You  have  advanced  this  heavy 
charge  pretty  strenuously,  I  must  confess  ; 
but  without  descending  to  facts,  or  appealing 
to  experience.  All  the  invectives  are  ge- 
neral and  declamatory,  none  pointing  and 
particular. 

Asp.  It  is  easy,  my  dear  friend,  too  easy 
to  draw  up  a  particular  bill  of  indictment ; 
and  not  only  to  specify  the  facts,  but  to  de- 
monstrate the  charge.  Experience,  sad  ex- 
perience will  furnish  us  with  a  cloud  of 
witnesses,  and  prove  my  remonstrances  to 
be  more  than  invectives. 

Were  we  to  dissect  human  nature,  as  in 
our  last  conference  you  treated  the  animal 
system,  we  should  find  the  leprosy  of  cor- 
ruption spreading  itself  through  our  whole 
frame.  For  which  reason,  it  is  styled,  by 
an  inspired  writer,  "the  old  man."  (Rom. 
vi.  6.)  "  Old,"  because  in  its  commence- 
ment it  was  cariy  as  the  fall,  and  in  its  com- 


DIALOGUE  XIII. 


297 


municarion  to  individuals  is  coeval  with 
their  being.  "  Man,"  because  it  has  tainted 
the  body,  infected  the  soul,  and  disordered 
the  whole  person. 

St.  Paid,  describing  a  profligate  conver- 
sation, speaks  in  this  remarkable  manner : 
•'  fultilling  the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  of 
ths  mind."  Eph.  ii.  3.  By  the  desires  of 
the  flesh,  he  means  those  irregular  inclina- 
tions which  correspond  with  the  animal  part 
of  oiu-  constitution  :  By  the  desires  of  the 
mind,  he  denotes  those  evil  propensities 
which  are  more  immediately  seated  in  the 
intellectual  faculties.  And  by  both,  he 
veiy  strongly  expresses  the  total  depravation 
of  our  nature. 

Tlier.  What  you  call  evil  propensities,  I 
am  apt  to  think  are  not  really  sinful,  but 
appomted  for  the  trial  of  our  virtue.  Nay, 
since  they  are  confessedly  natural,  they  can- 
not be  in  themselves  evil ;  because,  upon 
tills  supposition,  God,  who  is  the  author  of 
our  nature,  would  be  the  author  also  of  our 
sin- 

Asp.  Then  you  imagine,  that  propensities 
to  evil  are  void  of  guilt.  This  is  the  Pop- 
ish notion,  but  neither  the  Mosaic  nor  the 
Apostolic  doctrine — In  the  law  of  Moses 
it  is  written,  "  Thou  shalt  not  covet. " 
Exod.  XX.  17.  The  divine  Legislator 
prohibits,  not  only  the  iniquitous  praotice, 
but  the  evil  desire.  The  apostle  gives  it 
in  charge  to  the  Colossians,  "  Mortify  your 
members,  which  are  upon  the  earth  :  forni- 
cation, uncleanness,  inordinate  affection, 
aiul"  which  is  the  source  of  all,  "  evil  con- 
cupiscence."' Col.  iii.  5.  Now,  can  that  be 
free  from  guilt  which  we  are  commanded  to 
mortify?  which,  if  not  mortified,  denomi- 
nates us  "  children  of  disobedience,"  and 
subiects  us  to  "  the  wrath  of  God  ?"  Col. 
iii.  6. 

Though  these  propensities  are  confessed- 
ly natural,  they  may  be  evil  notwithstanding. 
The  sacred  writers  oppose  what  is  natural 
to  what  is  spiritual.  Instead  of  commend- 
ing it  as  innocent,  they  condemn  it  as  "  fool- 
ish,"  1  Cor.  ii.  14,   "  base,"  2  Pet.  ii.  12, 

and  "criminal,"  Eph.  ii.  3 Neither  does 

this  make  the  author  of  our  nature,  the  au- 
thor of  our  sin.  But  it  proves,  that  our 
nature  has  sustained  a  deplorable  loss  ;  that 
it  is  quite  diflferent  from  its  original  state  ; 
that  what  is  spoken  of  the  Isnielitish  peo- 
ple, is  applicable  to  the  human  race  :  "I 
planted  thee  a  noble  vine,  wholly  a  right 
seed  :  how  then  art  thou  turned  into  the 
degenerate  plant  of  a  strange  vine  ?"  Jer.  ii. 
2L 

However,  let  us  observe  your  proposal ; 
dwell  no  longer  on  general  hints,  but  de- 
scend to  a  particular  examination.  As  our 
examination  will  chiefly  respect  the  soul, 
let  me  iiiquire  what  are  her  principal  fa- 
culties ? 


Ther.  The  understanding,  the  will,  and 
the  afltctions.  These  are  the  most  distin- 
guishing powers  which  that  queen  of  the 
human  economy  retains  in  her  service. 
These,  like  the  several  distributions  of 
some  ample  river,  run  through  the  whole 
man,  to  quicken,  fertilize,  and  enrich  all  his 
conversation.  But  you  represent  them  bit- 
ter, as  the  waters  of  Marah  ;  unwholesome, 
as  the  streams  of  Jericho ;  noxious,  as  the 
pottage  prepared  for  the  sons  of  the  pro- 
phets. 

Asp.  Nor  is  this  a  misrepresentation  : 
For  such  they  really  are,  till  divine  grace, 
like  Moses'  wood,  Exod.  xv.  25,  like 
Elisha's  salt,  2  Kings  ii.  21,  22,  or  the 
meal,  2  Kings  iv.  41,  cast  in  by  that  holy 
man  of  God,  sweeten  them,  heal  them,  and 
render  their  operations  salutary. 

The  understanding  claims  our  first  re- 
gard. This,  however  qualified  to  serve  the 
purposes  of  civil  life,  is  unable  to  discover 
the  truths  in  which  wisdom  consists,  or  to 
form  the  tempers  from  which  hajtpiness 
flows. 

Let  us  take  our  specimen,  not  from  the 
uncultivated  savages  of  Africa,  but  from  the 
politest  nation  in  Euroj)e.  The  Grecians 
piqued  themselves  on  their  intellectual  ac- 
complishments :  They  termed  all  the  rest 
of  mankind  barbarians.  Yet  even  these 
sons  of  science,  "  jirofessing  themselves 
wise,  were,"  in  fact,  egregious  "  fools." 
Rom.  i.  22.  Not  to  enumerate  the  shock- 
ing immoralities  which  the  poets  ascribed 
to  their  deities  ;  not  to  insist  upon  the  gross 
idolatries  which  the  common  people  prac- 
tised in  their  worship  ;  even  their  philoso- 
phers, the  most  improved  and  penetrating 
geniuses,  were  unacquainted  with  the  veiy 
first  principle"  of  true  religion.  Even  they 
could  not  pronounce  with  an  unfaultering 
tongue,   "  That  God  is  one." 

Ther.  With  regard  to  the  philosophers, 
the  prejudices  of  a  wrong  education  might 
pervert  their  judgment ;  or,  in  compliance 
with  the  prevailing  mode,  they  might  adopt 
customs,  and  assent  to  notions,  which  they 
did  not  thoroughly  approve. 

Asp.  A  poor  compliment  this  to  their 
integrity!  Had  I  been  their  advocate,  me- 
thinks,  I  would  have  given  up  the  sagacity 
of  my  clients,  rather  than  their  fidelity  to 
the  cause  of  God  and  truth. 

With  reference  to  the  supreme  Good, 
they  were  equally  at  a  loss.  There  is  not 
one  among  all  the  inferior  creatures,  not 
even  the  crawling  worm  or  the  buzzing  fly, 
but  perceives  what  is  beneficial,  and  pur- 


•  "The  first  of  all  the  commandments  is.  Hear  O 
Israel,  The  Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord  ;  iind  thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord,  Sue.  Mark  xii.  2!).  From  which 
U  appears,  that  the  unity  of  the  (iodhead  is  the  foun- 
dation of  all  the  divine  coinmaiidinents,  and  of  hU 
human  worshiii. 


89B 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


sues  it  ;  discerns  what  is  pernicious,  and 
avoids  it.  Yonder  caterpillar,  whose  nour- 
ishment is  from  one  particular  species  of 
vegetables,  never  makes  a  wrong  applica- 
tion to  another ;  never  is  allured  by  the 
fragrance  of  the  auricula,  or  dazzled  by  the 
splendour  of  the  tulip  ;  but  constantly  dis- 
tinguishes, and  as  constantly  adheres  to  the 
leaf  which  affords  her  the  proper  food.  So 
sagacious  are  the  meanest  animals  with  re- 
lation to  their  respective  happiness  !  While 
the  most  celebrated  of  the  heathen  sages 
were,  on  a  subject  of  the  very  same  import, 
mere  dotards.  Varro  reckons  up  no  less 
than  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight  different 
opinions  concerning  the  true  good  ;  and  not 
one  of  them  derives  it  from  the  true  source  ; 
I  mean  a  conformity  to  the  ever-blessed 
God,  and  an  enjoyment  of  his  infinite  per- 
fections. 

If  on  these  leading  points  they  were  so 
erroneous,  no  wonder  that  they  were  be- 
wildered in  their  other  researches. 

Ther.  We  are  not  inquiring  into  the  cir- 
cumstances of  this  or  that  particular  nation, 
but  into  the  state  of  mankind  in  general. 

Asp.  Cast  your  eye,  Theron,  upon  those 
swallows.  They  shoot  themselves  with 
surprising  rapidity,  through  the  air.  I 
should  take  them  for  so  many  living  ar- 
rows, were  it  not  for  their  shifting,  winding, 
wanton  motions.  Are  not  these  what  you 
call  birds  of  passage  ? 

Ther.  These,  and  some  other  of  the 
feathered  race,  are  our  constant  visitants 
in  summer,  but  leave  us  at  the  approach 
of  winter.  As  soon  as  the  weather  be- 
comes cold,  they  assemble  themselves  in 
a  body,  and  concert  measures  for  their  de- 
parture. Who  convenes  the  assembly — 
what  debates  arise — or  how  they  communi- 
cate the  resolution  taken — I  do  not  presume 
to  say.  This  is  certain,  that  not  one  of 
them  dislodges  till  the  affair  is  settled,  and 
the  proclamation  has  been  published.  Not 
a  single  loiterer  is  to  be  seen,  when  the 
troops  are  preparing  for  their  decampment, 
not  a  single  straggler  to  be  found,  when 
they  have  once  begun  their  march. — Hav- 
ing finished  their  journey  through  the  land, 
their  wings  become  a  sort  of  sails,  and  they 
launch,  not  into,  but  over  the  ocean.  With- 
out any  compass  to  regulate  their  course, 
or  any  chart  to  make  observations  in  their 
voyage,  they  arrive  safely  at  the  desired 
shore  ;  and  what  is  still  more  extraordinary, 
they  always  find  the  readiest  way,  and  the 
shortest  cut. 

Asp.  "  The  stork  in  the  heavens  know- 
eth  her  appointed  times  ;  and  the  turtle, 
and  the  crane,  and  the  swallow,  observe  the 
time  of  their  coming  :  but  my  people  know 
not  the  judgment  of  their  God,"  ( Jer.  viii. 
7.)  The  young  ones  of  those  birds  per- 
ceive how  absolutely  necessary  it  is  to  for- 


sake the  land  of  their  nativity,  and  travel 
in  quest  of  milder  climes  ;  but  our  off- 
spring, even  when  their  minds  begin  to 
open,  "  are  brutish  in  their  knowledge," 
(Jer.  X.  14.)  Born  they  are,  and  too 
long  continue,  "  like  the  wild  ass's  colt,*" 
(Job.  xi.  12.);  not  only  quite  destitute  of 
heavenly  wisdom,  but  stupid  to  apprehend 
it,  and  averse  to  receive  it.  "  As  soon  as 
they  are  bom,    they  go  astray,"  and 

Ther.  "  Go  astray" — To  what  is  this 
owing,  but  to  the  bad  examples  they  behold  ? 
They  catch  the  wayward  habit  from  the  ir- 
regular conversation  of  others. 

Asp.  Is  not  this  a  confirmation  of  my 
point  ?  Why  are  they  yielding  clay  to  each 
bad  impression  ?  case-hardened  steel  to 
every  edifying  application  ? — From  imitat- 
ing unworthy  examples,  you  can  hardly 
withhold  them  by  the  tightest  rein.  But 
if  you  would  affect  them  with  a  sense  ot 
divine  things,  or  bring  them  acquainted 
with  God  their  Maker  ;  "  line  must  be 
upon  line,  line  upon  line  j  precept  must 
be  upon  precept,  precept  upon  precept  ; 
here  a  little  and  there  a  little,  f  What  far- 
ther corroborates  my  sentiment,  is,  that  aU 
these  tender  toils  of  erudition  are  generally 
unwelcome,  are  too  often  unsuccessful,  nay, 
wiU  always  be  ineffectual,  without  the  con- 
currence of  Almighty  grace. 

Besides,  Theron,  if  this  propensity  to 
evil  be  observable  in  all  children,  it  seems 
more  than  probable  that  the  unhappy  bias  is 
derived  from  their  parents,  rather  than 
catched  from  their  neighbours  ;  and  owing 
not  to  the  influence  of  external  examples, 
but  to  a  principle  of  internal  corniption.^ 
— Neglect  the  education  of  children,  and 
you  are  sure  to  have  their  manners  evD, 
their  lives  unprofitable.  Nay,  only  remit 
your  endeavours,  and  they  lose  what  has 
been  gained,  they  start  aside  like  a  broken 


•  How  keenly  is  this  comparison  pointed  ! — Like 
the  ass's,  an  animal  remarkable  for  its  stupidity, 
even  to  a  proverb  : — Like  the  ass's  colt,  which  must 
be  still  more egrcgiously  stupid  than  the  dam. — Like 
the  wild  ass's  colt,  which  is  not  only  blockish,  but 
stubborn  and  refractory :  neither  possesses  valuable 
qualities  by  nature,  nor  will  easily  receive  them  by 
discipline. — The  image,  in  the  original,  is  yet  more 
strongly  touched.  The  comparative  particle  like,  is 
not  in  the  Hebrew — bom  a  wild  ass's  colt :  or,  as  we 
should  say  in  English,  a  mere  wild,  &c. 

t  A  great  critic  has  laid  down  the  following  rule,  to 
be  observed  in  fine  writing : 

'Tis  not  enough  no  harshness  gives  offence. 
The  sound  must  be  an  echo  to  the  sense. 

Pope's  Essai/  on  Criticism. 
Never  was  this  delicate  maxim  more  nicely  exempli- 
fied, than  in  the  above  cited  passage  of  Isaiah,  chap, 
xxviii.  13.  Another  instance  of  the  same  kind  occurs 
in  the  seventh  verse;  where  the  language  seems  to 
mimic  the  reeling,  straggling,  giddy  motions  of  a 
drunkard;  while  it  iterates  and  reiterates  the  idea; 
expresses  the  same  thing  in  a  different  and  still  differ- 
ent manner;  with  an  apparent,  and  in  this  case,  a 
significant  circumrotation  of  words. 

X  St.  Paul  confesses,  that  he  and  his  fellow-saints 
were,  in  their  unconverted  state,  depraved  :  and 
this,  not  S/a  rnv  t^/vj  "  by  custom  or  habit,"  but 
(pvfu,  »  by  nature."    Eph.  ii.  3. 


DIALOGUE    XIII. 


293 


bow.  And  wherefore  tlik  ?  Why  do  they 
not,  without  the  rules  of  discipline  or  les- 
sons of  instruction,  spontaneously  addict 
themselves  to  the  exercise  of  every  virtue  ? 
just  as  the  cygnets  in  yonder  canal,  spon- 
taneously take  to  the  element  of  water,  and 
the  act  of  swimming  ? 

That  bed  in  the  garden  before  us  will 
suggest  the  reason.  It  has  been  digged  and 
dressed  this  very  day.  It  now  lies  smooth 
and  clean.  Not  a  single  weed  appears  on 
its  surface.  Yet  how  certainly  will  it,  in 
a  very  little  time,  produce  a  plenteous  gi'owth 
of  those  vegetable  nuisances  ?  Whence  can 
this  proceed  ?  No  hand  will  sow  them  ;  no 
wish  will  invite  them.  But  the  seeds, 
though  unperceived  by  any  eye,  are  already 
there.  Disseminated  by  the  winds,  they 
have  mixed  themselves  with  the  moidd,  and 
are  sunli  into  the  soil.  So,  just  so  it  is 
with  our  children.  The  seeds  of  iniquity 
are  within  them  ;  and  unless  proper  diligence 
be  exerted  by  us,  unless  gracious  assistance 
be  vouchsafed  from  above,  they  will  assur- 
edly spring  up,  overrun  their  souls,  and 
dishonour  their  lives. 

Ther.  Let  us  leave  the  children,  and 
make  men  the  subject  of  our  inquiry. 

Asp.    In  this  respect,  Theron, 

Men  are  but  children  of  a  larger  growth. 

We  may  leave  the  vest  or  hanging-sleeve 
coat,  but  we  shall  still  find  the  follies  of 
the  child.  In  youth,  what  low  ambition 
and  fondness  for  despicable  pleasures  !  In 
manhood,  what  a  keen  pursuit  of  transitory 
wealth,  yet  what  a  cold  inattention  to  God 
and  holiness !  Men,  and  men  too  of  the 
greatest  abilities,  whose  penetration  on  other 
subjects  is  piercing  as  the  eagle's  sight,  are 
on  the  most  important  points  blind  as  the 
incaverned  mole. 

Ther,  What !  is  the  understanding  like 
the  most  dim-sighted  animal,  when  lodged 
in  her  darkest  retirement  ?  that  sublime  fa- 
culty of  the  soul,  which  lends  her  eye  to  all 
the  rest,  sits  at  the  helm,  and  directs  their 
motions  ! 

Asp.  You  remember,  I  presume,  that 
beautiful  passage  in  Milton,*  which  Mr. 
Addison  so  highly  admires,  and  so  judici- 
ously illustrates  :  The  passage,  I  mean, 
where  the  archangel  Michael  comes  down 
to  advertise  Adam  of  future  events,  and  to 
execute  the  sentence  of  divine  justice. 

Ther.  I  remember  it  perfectly  well. — In 
the  east,  the  great  light  of  day  lies  under 
an  eclipse.  In  the  west,  a  bright  cloud  de- 
scends, filled  with  an  host  of  angels,  and 
more  luminous  than  the  sun  itself.  The 
whole  theatre  of  nature  is  darkened,  that 
this  glorious  machine  may  appear  in  all  its 


•  Book  xi.  I.  203,  &c. 


magnificence  and  beauty.  From  this  radiant 
chariot  the  Potentate  of  heaven  alights,  and 
advances  with  a  majestic  stateliness  to  meet 
Adam. 

Asp.  Should  you  see  such  an  august  per- 
sonage alighting  from  such  a  splendid  cha- 
riot, and  walking  amidst  the  thronged  streets 
of  a  city  ;  should  you  behold  every  one  in- 
tent upon  his  business  or  diversions,  struck 
with  no  awe,  paying  no  reverential  regard 
to  this  celestial  visitant — what  would  you 
think  ? 

Tlier.  I  should  certainly  suspect  that 
some  superior  power  had  drawn  a  veil  over 
their  sight,  and  hid  this  wonderful  spectacle 
from  their  view. 

Asp.  Such  is  really  the  case  with  all 
mankind  by  nature,  and  with  the  generality 
of  people  during  their  whole  life.  God,  the 
infinitely  great  God,  is  in  every  place.  Yet 
how  few  advert  to  his  presence  ? — All  na- 
ture exhibits  him  to  their  senses,  yet  perhaps 
he  is  not  in  any  of  their  thoughts. 

The  sun,  clothed  in  transcendent  bright- 
ness, most  illustriously  displays  his  Maker's 
glory.  The  moon,  though  dressed  in  fainter 
beams,  has  lustre  enough  to  show  us  the 
adorable  Deity,  and  his  marvellous  perfec- 
tions. The  stars,  fixed  as  they  are  at  an 
immeasurable  distance,  and  lessened  almost 
to  a  point,  come  in  with  their  evidence,  and 
magnify  their  Creator  to  a  gazing  but  unaf- 
fected world. 

The  air  whispers  his  clemency  in  the 
gentle,  the  refreshing  gales  of  spring.  If 
we  take  no  notice  of  this  soft  persuasive  ad- 
dress, the  tone  is  elevated,  the  majesty  of 
Jehovah  sounds  aloud  in  roaring  winds  and 
rending  storms.  Yet  both  expedients  fail. 
Man  is  like  the  deaf  adder,  that  stoppeth 
her  ears.  He  refuseth  to  hear  the  voice  of 
the  charmers,  charm  they  never  so  sweetlv, 
never  so  forcibly. 

Each  flower,  arrayed  in  beauty,  and 
breathing  perfume,  courts  our  aflJ'ections  for 
its  infinitely  amiable  Author. — Not  a  bird 
that  warbles,  not  a  brook  that  murmurs,  but 
invites  our  praise,  or  chides  oiu-  ingratitude. 
All  the  classes  of  fruits  deposit  their  attes- 
tation on  our  palates,  yet  seldom  reach  our 
hearts.  They  give  us  a  proof  of  the  divine 
benignity ;  a  proof  as  undeniable  as  it  is 
pleasing,  and  too  often  as  inefl!'ectual  also. 

In  short,  the  whole  creation  is  a  kind  of 
magnificent  embassy  from  its  almighty  Lord, 
deputed  to  proclaim  his  excellencies,  and 
demand  our  homage.  Yet  who  has  not  dis- 
regarded the  former,  and  withheld  the  lat- 
ter?—  How  few  walk  as  seeing  him  that  is 
invisible,  or  have  fellowship  with  the  Fa- 
ther of  spirits  ?  though  to  wiilk  before  him 
is  our  highest  dignity  ;  and  to  have  fellow- 
ship with  him  is  our  only  felicity  ? 

Ther.  This  is  owing  to  inattention,  rather 
than  to  any  blindness  or  defect  in  man's  un- 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


800 

derstanding  The  many  works  of  genius, 
which  have  been  produced  in  various  ages, 
are  an  abundant  proof  of  his  intellectual 
capacity.— Have  not  the  seas  been  travers- 
ed and  the  skies  measured  ?  Has  not  the 
earth  been  disembowelled  of  its  choicest 
treasures,  while  its  surface  is  beautified  with 
towns,  cities,  palaces  innumerable  ?  What 
fine  arts  are  invented  and  exercised,  and  to 
what  a  pilch  of  perfection  are  they  carried  ? 
Arts  that  seem,  if  not  to  exceed,  at  least 
to  rival  nature.  It  was  the  imderstanding 
which  formed  all  these  great  designs.  It 
was  the  understanding  which  contrived  the 
means,  and  conducted  the  execution.  And 
are  not  these  unquestionable  evidences  of 
her  very  superior  abilities  ? 

Asji.  Then  she  is  like  some  great  eni- 
press,  who  conquers  half  the  world,  but  is 
unable  to  rule  herself ;  who  extends  her  re- 
gulations into  foreign  climes,  while  her  do- 
mestic affairs  are  involved  in  confusion. — 
Do  you  doubt  the  reality  of  this  remark  ? 
Set  yourself  to  meditate  upon  the  most  in- 
teresting truths.  How  desultory,  how  in- 
coherent are  your  thoughts  ?—  Charge  them 
to  be  collected ;  they  disobey  your  orders. 
Rally  the  undisciplined  vagrants  ;  again  they 
desert  the  task.  Exert  all  your  power,  and 
keep  them  close  to  their  business;  still 
they  elude  your  endeavours. 

The  other  day  I  could  not  forbear  smiling 
at  a  little  adventure  of  your  youngest  son's. 
Some  quicksilver,  which  happened  to  be 
spilt  upon  the  floor,  parted  in  several  glo- 
bules. The  shining  balls  looked  so  prettily, 
he  longed  to  make  them  his  own.  But 
when  he  offered  to  take  them  up,  they  slipt 
from  his  hand  ;  as  soon  as  he  renewed  the 
attempt,  so  often  he  met  with  a  disappoint- 
ment ;  the  closer  he  strove  to  grasp  them, 
the  more  speedily  they  escaped  from  his 
fingers :  he  seemed  at  first  to  be  amazed, 
then  became  quite  angry  that  the  little  fugi- 
tives should  so  constantly  baffle  his  repeated 
efforts.  Thus  unmanageable  I  very  often 
find  my  own  thoughts-  If  yours  are  under 
no  better  regimen,  this  may  convince  us  both, 
that  all  is  not  according  to  the  original  crea- 
tion. 

We  apply  ourselves  to  converse  with  the 
everlasting  God  in  prayer.  Here  one  would 
expect  to  have  the  thoughts  all  clearness, 
and  all  composure.  But  here  "  we  are  not 
sufficient  of  ourselves  to  think  any  thing  as 
of  ourselves.  (2  Cor.  iii.  5.)  All  those 
holy  ideas  which  create  reverence,  or 
strengthen  faith,  or  quicken  love,  come  from 
the  Father  of  lights.  Should  he  withdraw 
his  influence,  all  will  be  dull,  and  dark,  and 
dead.  It  may  be  we  are  somewhat  enliven- 
ed in  this  sacred  exercise ;  before  we  are 
aware,  perhaps  in  the  very  midst  of  the  so- 
lemn office,  our  attention  is  dissipated,  and 
not  dissipated  only,  but  scattered  to  the  ends 


of  the  earth.  The  God  of  all  glory  is  for- 
saken, and  the  devotion  paid  to  some  sense- 
less foppery.  A  malefactor  begging  his  life 
at  the  knees  of  his  sovereign,  and  discon- 
tinuing his  suit  in  order  to  caress  a  lapdog,  or 
pursue  a  butterfly,  is  but  a  faint  image  of  the 
vanity  which  attends  our  devotional  services. 
Reason,  which  ought  to  correct  these  irre- 
gularities, is  treated  like  the  incredulous 
lord,  who,  instead  of  controlling  the  unruly 
multitude,  was  overborne  by  their  impetu- 
osity, "and  trodden  under  foot."  (2  Kings 
vii.  17.) 

Since  then  the  reins  are  struck  out  of 
our  hands,  and  we  have  lost  the  rule  over 
our  own  faculties,  surely  we  are  in  a  state 
difl!erent,  very  different  from  our  primitive 
constitution. 

Ther.  However  insensible  to  refined  spe- 
culation, the  understanding,  when  interest 
is  in  the  case,  is  apprehensive  enough. 

Asp.  In  temporal,*  not  in  spiritual  af- 
fairs  Your  younger  brother,  Theron,  is  a 

merchant.  We  will  suppose  him  at  the 
sea-side,  within  a  small  distance  of  the  vessel 
in  which  a  considerable  part  of  his  substance 
is  embarked.  We  will  suppose  the  vessel 
in  the  utmost  distress,  ready  to  founder  with 
her  leaks,  or  to  strike  upon  the  rocks.  If 
he  discovers  no  sign  of  concern,  calls  in  no 
assistance  from  the  country,  makes  no  eflfbrt 
to  save  the  crew,  and  secure  the  cargo, 
would  you  not  think  him  bereaved  of  his 
understanding,  or  deprived  of  his  sight? 
Could  you  conceive  a  more  favourable  opi- 
nion of  his  eyes  or  his  intellect,  if,  instead  of 
trying  every  method  to  prevent  a  shipwreck, 
he  should  amuse  himself  with  picking  shells 
from  the  ocean,  or  drawing  figures  on  the 
sand? 

We,  and  every  one  of  our  fellow  creatures, 
have  an  interest  in  jeopardy,  unspeakably 
more  precious  than  all  the  rich  lading  of  a 
thousand  fleets.  Our  souls,  our  immortal 
souls,  are  exposed,  every  day,  every  hour,  to 
the  peril  of  everlasting  destruction.  Every 
temptation  is  threatenhig  to  their  endless  wel- 
fare, as  a  ridge  of  craggy  rocks  to  a  ship  that 
drives  before  the  strongest  gale.  Yet  how 
unconcerned  are  mankind  ?  where  is  their 
holy  fear  ?  where  their  godly  jealousy?  where 
their  wakeful  circumspection  ?  Rather  what 
a  gay  insensibility  is  observable  in  their  be- 
haviour ?  or  else,  what  a  lifeless  formality 
prevails  in  their  supplications — their  suppli- 
cations to  that  Almighty  Being,  who* alone 
is  able  to  save  and  to  destroy.  Was  not 
the  human  understanding  both  darkened  and 
benumbed,  we  should  see  our  neighbours, 
we  should  feel  ourselves  awakened  into 
much  the  same  earnest  solicitude,  as  the 
disciples   expressed,   when,  perceiving  the 


»■  CiUed  therefore  by  the  apostle,  "neshly  wisdom," 
and  opposed  to  the  grace  of  God.    2  Cor.  i.  12. 


DIALOGUE  XIII. 


301 


waves  boiisteroiis,  and  their  bark  sinking,  ; 
tliey  cried,  "  Lord,  save  us  !  we  perish  !" 

But,  alas  !  in  tilings  of  an  unseen  nature, ! 
though  of  eternal  consequence,  interest,  that 
habitual  darling  of  every  heart,  loses  its  en- 
gaging influence.  Nay,  when  eternity,  all- 
important  eternity  is  at  stake,  even  self- 
preservation  is  scarce  any  longer  a  governing 
principle.  What  can  be  more  deplorable  ? 
and,  if  we  admit  not  the  doctrine  of  original 
corruption,  what  so  unaccountable  ? 

Ther.  This,  I  must  confess,  is  true  with 
regard  to  the  unthinking  rabble.  To  them 
may  be  accommodated  the  remark  of  Au- 
gustus, who,  when  he  saw  some  foreign  fe- 
males carrying  apes  in  their  arms  instead  of 
infants,  said  to  one  of  his  courtiers,  "  have 
the  women  of  those  countries  no  children, 
that  they  are  so  fond  of  such  despicable 
animals  ?" — The  vulgar  are  so  immersed  in 
secular  cares,  that  one  might  indeed  be 
tempted  to  ask,  "  have  those  people  no 
souls,  that  buying  and  selling,  eating  and 
drinking,  engross  their  whole  concern  ?"  But 
persons  of  rank  and  education  think  in  a 
more  exalted  manner. 

Asp.  Do  you  then  imagine,  that  an  ele- 
vation of  circumstances  sets  the  affections 
on  things  above  ?  or  that  it  is  the  peculiar 
infelicity  of  the  vulgar  to  grovel  in  their  de- 
sires ?  Gold,  I  believe  is  more  likely  to  in- 
crease than  to  dissipate  the  fog  on  the  mind. 
Abundance  of  possessions,  instead  of  disen- 
gaging the  heart,  fasten  it  more  inseparably 
to  the  earth.  Even  superior  attainments 
in  learning,  if  not  sanctified  by  grace,  serve 
only  to  render  the  owner  somewhat  more 
refined  in  his  follies.  But  comparisons 
between  the  various  classes  of  mankind,  are 
as  useless  as  they  are  invidious.  None, 
in  either  condition,  attend  to  the  things 
which  make  for  their  peace,  till  they  are 
awakened  from  their  lethargy,  by  the  quick- 
ening Spirit  of  Christ ;  and  even  then  we 
cannot  but  observe  evident  indications  of 
much  remaining  blindness. 

How  apt  are  such  persons  to  mistake  the 
way  of  salvation,  to  place  their  own  works 
for  a  foundation  of  hope,  instead  of  Christ 
the  Rock  of  Ages,  thinking  by  their  own 
performances  to  win,  not  seeking  from  un- 
merited grace  to  receive,  the  inheritance  of 
eternal  glory  ;  which  is  more  absurdly  vain 
than  to  offer  toys  as  an  equivalent  forthrones, 
or  to  dream  of  jjurchasing  diadems  with  a 
mite.— They  are  also  prone  to  misappre- 
hend the  nature  of  holiness,  are  zealoiis  to 
regidiitetheexternalconduct,  without  attend- 
ing to  the  renovation  of  the  heart ;  in  out- 
ward forms  elaborate  ;  with  respect  to  in- 
ward sanctity,  less  if  at  all  exact :  a  labour 
just  as  preposterous,  as  to  skin  over  the  sur- 
face of  a  wound  while  it  festers  at  tlie  bot- 
tom, and  consumes  tiie  bone. 

Give  me  leave  to  ask,  Tlieron,  wlicn  our 


Lord  declares,  "  Unless  a  man  be  born 
again,  he  cainiot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  ;"  John  iii.  3  ;  when  he  speaks  of 
"  eating  his  flesh,  and  drinking  his  blood  ;" 
John  vi.  54.  ;  when  you  hear  or  read  of 
union  with  the  blessed  Jesus,  or  communion 
with  the  most  high  God;  is  there  not  a 
cloud,  if  not  total  darkness,  on  your  mind  ?• 
How  erroneous  was  the  Psalmist  himself 
in  his  judgmen^t  concerning  the  divine  dis- 
posals ;  "  So  foolish  was  I  and  ignorant, 
even  as  it  were  a  beast,"  or  as  the  veriest 
beast,  "  before  thee."-|-  Psalm  Ixxiii.  22. 
The  voice  of  experience  therefore  will  at- 
test, what  the  word  of  revelation  has  aver- 
red,— that  the  natural  man,  be  his  intellec- 
tual abilities  ever  so  pregnant,  or  ever  so  im- 
proved, "cannot  know  the  things  of  the 
Spirit  of  God;"  1  Cor.  ii.  14;  he  has 
no  sight  to  discern  their  beauty,  no  taste 
to  relish  their  sweetness.  Nay,  though 
they  are  the  purest  light,  and  the  most 
perfect  wisdom,  [-to  him  they  appear  not 
only  dark  and  obecu'-e,  but  even  foolishness 
itself.     "  :     . 

Would  this  be  the  case  if  the  understand- 
ing was  not  greatly  depraved  ?  Should  it 
be  difficult  for  your  ear  to  distinguish  the 
diversity  of  sounds,  or  for  your  eye  to  dis- 
cern the  variety  of  colours,  would  you 
not  conclude,  that  the  organs  were  very 
much  impaired  ? 

Ther.  I  think  you  have  treated  the  un- 
dcrstanding  as  Zopyrus  served  his  own  bo- 
dy,!; when  he  went  over  to  the  enemy.  Do 
you  intend  to  mangle  the  other  faculties  at 
the  same  unmerciful  rate? 

Af<p.  That  nobleman  made  the  wounds 
which  disfigured  his  flesh ;  I  have  only 
probed  the  sores  which  were  found  in  the 
understanding.  If  I  have  touched  the  quick, 
and  put  the  patient  to  pain,  it  is  only  to  fa- 
cilitate the  operation  of  medicine,  and  make 
way  for  a  cure — But  permit  me  to  ask, 
Wherein  does  the  excellency  of  the  human 
will  consist? 

Ther.  In  following  the  guidance  of  rea- 


•  With  regard  to  tne  mysteries  of  Christ,  the 
greatest  proficients  are  but  abtusi:  acuti,  dull  even 
in  their  acuteness. — What  says  the  wise  Augur?  an 
invaluable  fragment  of  whose  works  is  preserved  in 
the  book  of  Proverbs.  "  Surely  I  am  more  brutish 
than  any  man,  and  have  not  the  understanding  of 
a  man  ;"  even  though  the  following  verses  bespeak 
the  very  singular  elevation  and  extent  of  his  know- 
ledge, Prov.  XXX.  2.  Conformably  to  the  experience 
of  this  excellent  man,  I  have  always  observed,  that 
the  niore  enlightened  peofilc  are,  (he  more  they  la- 
ment their  ignorance;  the  more  they  pant  after  a  con- 
tinual progress  in  heavenly  knowledge  :  ami  pray  for 
clearer,  still  clearer  maniiestations  of  the  incompre- 
hensible God. 

t  I  question  whether  Aspasio's  translation  comos 
fully  up  to  the  emphasis  of  the  original.  The  com- 
parative i)article  is  omitted  in  the  Hebrew,  as  it 
softens  and  palliates  the  matter.  'I'herefore  the 
I'salmist ,  to  ex  press  the  deepest  sense  of  his  ignorance, 
says,  "  I  was  a  beast,  yea,  the  veriest  beast-" 

i  Sec  Uollin's  Ancient  Hitt.  vol.  iii.  p.  4(J. 


302 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


son,  and  submitting  to  the  influence  of  pro- 
per authority. 

Asp.  The  will,  I  fear,  rejects  the  govern- 
ment of  reason  ;  and  it  is  xmdeniably  cer- 
tain, that  it  rebels  against  the  authority  of 
God. 

Cast  your  eye  upon  that  team  of  horses, 
with  which  yonder  countryman  is  ploughing 
his  fallow-ground.  No  less  than  five  of 
those  robust  animals  are  linked  together, 
and  yield  their  submissive  necks  to  the 
draught.  They  have  more  strength  than 
twenty  men,  yet  are  managed  by  a  single  lad. 
They  not  only  stand  in  awe  of  the  lash,  but 
listen  to  the  voice  of  their  driver.  They 
turn  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left ;  they 
quicken  their  pace,  or  stop  short  in  the  fur- 
row, at  the  bare  intimation  of  his  pleasure. 
Are  we  equally  obedient  to  the  calls,  to  the 
exhortations,  the  express  injunctions  of  our 
heavenly  Lord  ?  The  blessed  Jesus  spoke 
at  the  beginning,  and  the  world  was  made. 
He  speaks  by  his  providence,  and  the  uni- 
verse is  upheld.  When  he  shall  speak  at 
the  last  day,  the  heavens  will  pass  away,  and 
the  earth  be  dissolved.  Yet  he  speaks  to 
us  in  his  divine  word,  and  we  turn  a  deaf 
ear  to  his  address.  He  speaks  in  tender 
expostulations,  and  no  melting  of  heart  en- 
sues. He  speaks  in  precious  promises,  and 
no  ardent  desires  are  enkindled.  The  will, 
which  in  these  cases  ought  to  be  turned 
as  wax  to  the  seal,  is  unimpressed  and  in- 
flexible as  an  iron  sinew  ? 

T/ier.  The  human  will  is  constantly  in- 
clined to  preserve,  accommodate,  and  make 
its  possessor  happy.  Is  not  this  the  right 
position,  in  which  it  should  ahvays  stand  ? 
Or  the  most  desirable  direction  that  can 
be  given  to  its  motions? 

Asp.  I  should  be  glad,  if  fact  bore  wit- 
ness to  your  assertion.  But  fact,  I  appre- 
hend, is  on  the  contrary  side.  I  took  no- 
tice, as  we  came  along,  of  some  ants,  busily 
employed  on  a  little  hillock.  Have  you 
made  any  observation,  Theron,  on  this  rep- 
tile community  ? 

Titer.  It  is  a  little  republic.  *  They  in- 
habit a  kind  of  oblong  city,  divided  into 
various  streets.  They  are  governed  by  laws, 
and  regulated  by  politics,  of  their  own. 
Their  magazines  are  commodiously  formed, 
and  judiciously  guarded  against  the  injuries 
of  the  weather.  Some  are  defended  by  an 
arch  made  of  earth,  and  cemented  with  a 
peculiar  sort  of  glue :  Some  are  covered 
with  rafters  of  slender  wood,  and  thatched 
with  rushes  or  grass.  The  roof  is  always 
raised  with  a  double  slope,  to  turn  away  the 
current  of  the  waters,  and  shoot  the  rain 
from  their  storehouses.  They  aU  bestir 
themselves,   with    an   incessant   assiduity. 


«  See  Nat.  Displ.  vol. 


while  the  air  is  serene,  while  the  roads  are 
good,  and  abundance  of  loose  grain  lies  scat- 
tered over  the  fields.  By  these  precau- 
tions, they  live  secure,  when  storms  embroil 
the  sky,  they  want  no  manner  of  convenien- 
cy,  even  when  winter  lays  waste  the  plains. 

Asp.  Do  we  improve,  so  diligently,  our 
present  opportunities  ?  This  life  is  the  seed- 
time of  eternity.  Do  we  husband  the  pre- 
cious moments  like  persons  sensible  of  their 
unspeakable  importance  ?  sensible,  that  if  we 
trifle  and  are  indolent,  they  will  be  irrecover- 
ably gone,  and  we  irretrievably  ruined  ? 

Sickness,  we  know  not  how  soon,  may 
invade  us,  pain  may  torment  us,  and  both 
may  issue  in  our  final  dissolution.  Are  we 
duly  aware  of  these  awful  changes,  and  pro- 
perly solicitous  to  put  all  in  order  for  their 
approach?  We  walk  (alarming  thought!) 
upon  the  very  brink  of  death,  resurrection, 
and  judgment.  Do  we  walk  like  wise  vir- 
gins, with  our  loins  girt,  with  our  lamps 
trimmed,  in  a  state  of  continual  readiness 
for  the  heavenly  Bridegroom's  advent  ? 

Those  ants  "  have  no  guide,  overseer,  or 
ruler ;  yet  they  prepare  their  meat  in  the 
summer,  and  gather  their  food  in  the  har- 
vest." (Prov.  vi.  7.)  We  have  all  these, 
yet  neglect  the  time  of  our  visitation.  We 
have  God's  unerring  word  to  guide  us ; 
God's  ever-watchful  eye  to  oversee  us ; 
God's  sovereign  command  to  rule  and  quick- 
en us.  Notwithstanding  all  these  motives, 
is  not  the  speech  of  the  sluggard  the  very 
language  of  our  conduct?  "  A  little  more 
sleep,  a  little  more  slumber,  a  little  more 
folding  of  the  hands  to  sleep."  The  most 
supine  indifference,  where  all  possible  dili- 
gence is  but  just  sufficient !  This,  you  must 
allow,  is  the  true  character  of  mankind  in 
general.  And  does  this  demonstrate  the 
rectitude  of  their  will  ? 

Ther.  The  understanding  may  be  said  to 
carry  the  torch,  the  %vill  to  hold  the  balance. 
Now  the  perfection  of  a  balance  consists  in 
being  so  nicely  poised,  as  to  incline  at  the 
least  touch,  and  preponderate  with  the 
slightest  weight.  This  property  belongs, 
without  all  dispute,  to  the  human  will. 

Asp.  What  if  one  of  your  scales  should 
descend  to  the  ground,  though  charged  with 
trifles  that  are  light  as  air?  if  the  other 
should  kick  the  beam,  though  its  contents 
be  weightier  than  talents  of  gold?  Is  not 
this  an  exact  representation  of  our  will, 
when  the  fleeting  pleasures  of  sense,  or  the 
puny  interests  of  time,  excite  our  wishes  ; 
even  while  the  solid  delights  of  religion,  and 
the  immensely  rich  treasures  of  immortality, 
can  hardly  obtain  our  attention  ?  However, 
let  us  quit  the  metaphor,  and  examine  fact. 
Suppose  I  make  it  appear,  that,  instead  of 
choosing  the  most  eligible  objects,  the  will 
is  so  deplorably  vitiated  as  to  loathe  what 
is  salutary,  and  to  be  fond  of  what  is  baneful. 


DIALOGUE  XIII. 


303 


liter.  If  j'ou  prove  this  to  be  universally 
the  Ciise,  you  will  prove  your  fa votuitc  point 
with  a  witness. 

Asp.  When  Providence  is  pleased  to 
thwart  our  measures,  or  defeat  our  endea- 
vours ;  to  bring  us  under  the  cloud  of  dis- 
grace, or  lay  upon  us  the  rod  of  aflliction  ; 
what  is  our  behanour?  Do  we  bow  our 
heads  in  huirble  resignation  ?  Do  we  open 
our  mouths  in  thankful  acknow  ledgir.ents  ? 
—  Observe  the  waters  in  that  elegant  octan- 
gular basin.  They  assimilate  themselves, 
with  the  utmost  readiness,  and  with  equal 
exactness,  to  the  vessel  that  contains  them. 
So  would  the  human  will,  if  it  were  not 
extremely  froward  and  foolish,  conform  it- 
self to  the  divine  ;  which  is  unerringly  wise, 
and,  of  all  possible  contingencies,  incom- 
parably the  best.*  Yet  how  apt  are  we  to 
fret  with  disquietude,  and  struggle  under 
afliictive  dispensations,  "  as  a  wild  bull  in  a 
net  ?" 

Titer.   This  is  a  very  imperfect  proof,  As 
pasio,  and  corresponds  only  with  part  of 
your  accusation.     We  may  dislike  what  is 
wholesome,  especially  if  it  be  unpalatable, 
yet  not  be  fond  of  our  bane. 

Asp.  Should  you  see  a  person  who  thirsts 
after  the  putrid  lake,  but  disrelishes  the  run- 
ning fountain  ;  who  longs  for  the  empoison- 
ed berries  of  the  nightshade,  but  abhors  the 
delicious  fruit  of  the  orchard ;  would  you 
applaud  the  regrUarity  of  his  appetite  ?  I  do 
not  wait  for  your  answer.  But  I  more  than 
suspect  this  is  a  true  picture  of  all  unrege- 
nerate  people.  How  do  they  affect  dress 
and  external  ornament ;  but  are  unwilling, 
rather  than  desirous,  to  be  "  clothed  with 
humility,"  1  Peter  v.  3,  and  "to  put  on 
Christ,"  Rom.  xiii.  14.  Amusement  will 
engage,  play  animate,  and  diversion  fire 
them  ;  but  as  to  the  worship  of  the  living 
God,  O  "  what  a  weariness  is  it."  Mai.  i. 
13.  This  is  attended,  if  attended  at  all, 
with  languor  and  a  listless  insensibility. 
Frothy  novels  and  flatulent  wit  regale  their 
taste,  while  the  marrow  and  fatness  of  the 
divine  word  are  as  "  their  sorrowful  meat." 
Job  vi.  7.  What  is  all  this  but  to  loathe 
the  salutary,  and  longf  for  the  baneful  ? 


«  This  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of  the  prophet. 
Isaiah  xxvi.  7.  Not—"  the  way  of  the  just  is  upright- 
ness." This  sense,  in  the  present  connexion,  is  hardly 
consistent  with  humility  ;  is  by  no  means  proper  to 
introduce  a  devotional  address  tothegreat  Jehovah. 
Rather—"  God's  way  to  the  just  is  uprifihtncss ;"  or, 
still  more  emphatically,  "  uprightness  ;"  is  in  all  res- 
pects irreprovable,  excellent,  admirable;  suited,  per- 
fectly suited  to  every  sacred  attribute  of  wisdom,  good- 
ness, and  truth. 

■f  The  reader  may  see  this  unhappy  contrast  drawn 
in  the  strongest  colours,  by  the  royal  preacher,  and 
by  the  mourning  prophet.  "Because  I  have  called, 
and  ye  refused;  I  have  stretched  out  my  hand,  and 
no  man  regarded  !  but  ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my 
counsel,  and  would  none  of  my  reproof."  What  a 
crowd  of  words  !  emphatically  declaring  the  most  in- 
corrigible perverseness  :  which  is  proof  against  every 
method  of  reformation,  against  all  the  arts  even  of 


Let  me,  from  the  same  comparison,  pro- 
pose one  question  more,  which  may  be  ap- 
plicable both  to  the  will  and  to  the  imder- 
standing.  Should  you  hear  of  another  per- 
son, the  state  of  whose  stomach  was  so 
disjjosed  that  it  turned  the  most  nourishing 
food  into  phlegm,  and  derived  matter  of 
disease  from  the  most  sovereign  suppoits  of 
health,  what  would  you  thii>k  of  this  con- 
stitution. 

Titer.  I  should  certainly  think  it  very 
miich  distempered. 

Asp.  Without  the  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  our  souls  turn  every  occur- 
rence into  an  increase  of  their  sinful  depra- 
vity. Our  very  table  is  a  snare,  and  instead 
of  exciting  us  to  gratitude,  is  a  provocative 
to  gluttony.  How  difficult  is  it,  when  we 
flow  in  plenty,  not  to  be  elated  ;  when  we 
are  oppressed  with  poverty,  not  to  repine  ? 
Have  we  business  in  the  world  ?  it  cumbers 
our  thoughts,  or  tempts  us  to  avarice :  Have 
we  no  business  to  manage  ?  we  sink  into 
sloth,  and  settle  on  the  lees  of  voluptuous- 
ness. If  our  schemes  are  prosperous,  it  is 
odds  but  they  attach  us  to  the  interests  of 
time  :  If  they  prove  unsuccessful,  we  too 
often  are  chagrined  with  the  disappointment, 
and  sin  against  meekness.  Even  the  holy 
commandment,  instead  of  restraining  sin,  or 
producing  obedience,  irritates  the  inbred  de- 
pravity, and  renders  it  more  restless,  more 
impetuous,  more  ungovernable,  Rom.  vii.  8. 
Those  very  things  which  shoidd  have  been 
for  our  welfare,  (so  malignant  and  raging  is 
our  corruption  !)  are  converted  into  an  oc- 
casion of  falling. 

Ther.  The  will  is  under  no  necessity  of 
misemploying  her  powers.  She  is  free  to 
act  in  this  manner  or  in  that ;  and  if  a  spend- 
thrift, is  not  a  slave. 

Asp.  In  actions  which  relate  to  the  ani- 
mal economy  the  will  is  unquestionably  free. 
She  can  contract  the  forehead  into  a  frown, 
or  expand  it  with  a  smile.     In  the  ordinary 


divine  persuasion.  Prov.  i.  24,  25.— "The  host  of 
heaven,  whom  they  have  loved,  and  whom  they  have 
served,  and  after  whom  they  have  walked,  and  whom 
they  have  sought,  and  whom  they  have  worshipped." 
What  a  heap  of  expressions :  significantly  describing 
that  impetuous  ardour,  which  no  prohibitions  can  re- 
strain; and  that  insatiable  avidity,  which  never  knows 
when  to  say,  it  is  enough.    Jer.  viii.  2. 

If  I  beg  leave  to  add  another  example  of  this  kind, 
it  is  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  clearing  up  an  obscure 
passage  in  the  Psalms;  which  seems  to  have  been 
mistaken  by  the  authors  of  both  our  versions.— Da- 
vid, to  set  forth  the  barbarous  assiduity  of  bis  perse^ 


mistaken  by  the  authors  of  both  our  versions.- 

forth  the  barbarous  assiduil 
cutors,  says,  "  They  wander  up  and  down."  'They 
pry  into  every  corner ;  they  search  the  city,  and  exa- 
mine the  country:  not  for  meat;  which  in  this  con- 
nexion is  a  sense  quite  foreign  to  the  subject,  ami 
very  jejune  indeed  ;  but  to  devour,  to  devour  me  the 
destined  victim  of  their  rage.  And  if  they  arc  not 
satisfied,  if  they  cannot  compa.ss  their  design  by  day, 
will  they  grudge  ?  No ;  but  they  will  continue  all 
night,  in  the  prosecution  of  their  purpo.se.  Neither 
cold  nor  darkness  can  retard  them  :  neither  hardships 
nor  dangers  can  divert  them  ;  but  their  attcm|)ls  are 
as  indefatigable  as  their  malice  is  implacable.  I'salm 
lix.  15. 


304 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


affairs  of  life,  she  is  under  no  control.  We 
can  undertake  or  decline  a  journey,  carry  on 
or  discontinue  an  employ,  just  as  we  please. 
In  the  outward  acts  of  religion  also,  the  will 
is  her  own  mistress.  We  can  read  the  word 
of  God,  or  go  to  the  place  of  divine  wor- 
ship, without  any  extraordinary  aid  from 
above But,  in  matters  which  are  more  in- 
timately connected  with  our  salvation,  the 
case  is  different.  Here,  as  our  liturgy  ex- 
presses it,  "  we  are  tied  and  bound  with  the 
chain  of  our  sins." 

Would  you  have  a  person  delight  himself 
in  the  Lord,  take  pleasure  in  devotion,  set 
his  affections  on  things  above  ? — All  this  is 
both  his  duty  and  his  happiness.  But  alas  ! 
he  is  alienated  from  the  life  of  God ;  his 
inclinations  gravitate  quite  the  contrary  way ; 
his  will  is  in  the  condition  of  that  distressed 
woman,  who  was  "bowed  down  with  a  spi- 
rit of  intirmity,  and  could  in  no  ^vise  lift  up 
herself."  Luke  xii.  11.  Corruption,  like  a 
strong  .bias,  influences,  or  rather  like  a  heavy 
mountain  oppresses  his  mind.  Neither  can 
he  shake  off  the  propensity,  or  struggle 
away  from  the  load,  until  grace,  almighty 
grace,  interposes  for  his  release, — "  Where 
the  spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there,"  and  there 
alone,  '•  is  liberty,"  2  Cor.  iii.  17,  that  sa- 
cred and  glorious  liberty,  which  is  not  the 
common  privilege  of  all  men,  but  the  high 
prerogative  of  the  children  of  God. 

Would  you  haye  a  person  apply  to  the 
great  Redeemer — apply  with  a  real  ardour 
of  desire,  as  Bartimaeus  of  old,  or  the  Syro- 
phoenician  mother  ? — His  will  is  like  the 
withered  arm,  cannot  stretch  forth  itself  to 
the  all-gracious  Saviour ;  cannot  hunger  and 
thirst  after  his  everlasting  righteousness  and 


Ther.  Are  we  slaves  then  ?  Will  Chris- 
tianity send  us  to  seek  our  brethren  in  the 
mines  or  in  the  galleys  ? 

Asp.  Christianity  does  not  send  but  find 
us  there  :  There,  or  in  a  worse  slaverj'. " — 
It  is  doubtless  a  most  abject  state,  to  wear 
the  yoke,  and  truckle  in  chains.  Yet  such, 
I  apprehend,  is  the  state  of  our  minds  by 
nature.  To  prove  this,  we  need  not  go 
down  to  the  lowest  ranks  of  life.  "  These," 
you  might  say  with  the  prophet,  "  are  poor ; 
these  are  foolish  ;  they  have  not  knovtni  the 
way  of  the  Lord,  nor  the  judgment  of  their 
God" — I  will  get  me  therefore  to  the  great 
men,"  Jer.  v.  4,  3,  and  examine  their  dis- 
position. 

Have  you  not  known  persons  of  the 
greatest  intrepidity,  and  firmest  resolution, 
hurried  away  by  their  lusts,  as  "  a  rolling 
thing  before  the  whirlwind  ?"  Isa.  xvii.  13. 
Perhaps  they  were  bold  enough  to  face  dan- 
ger, and  defy  the  sword  in  the  field  of  bat- 
tle ;  yet  were  no  more  able  to  withstand  the 
wanton  allurements  of  beauty,  or  the  soft 
solicitations  of  pleasure,  than  the  moth  can 
forbear  fluttering  about  the  flame,  even 
though  it  singes  her  wings,  and  is  scorching 
her  to  death.  Others,  possessed  of  a  re- 
fined imagination,  disdain  the  gross  indulg- 
encies  of  sensuality  ;  yet  are  slaves  to  their 
own  domineering  passions.  They  are  blown 
into  the  most  intemperate  rage,  and  pushed 
on  to  the  most  extravagant  actions,  by  every 
little  ruffling  accident.  They  see  the  mean- 
ness which  such  an  ungovemable  spirit  ar- 
gues ;  they  feel  the  misery  which  such  in^ 
temal  tempests  create  :  nay,  they  resolve  to 
suppress  the  impetuosity  of  their  temper  t 
yet  are  borne  away  by  the  torrent,  and  upon 


infinite  merit,  till  the  Saviour  himself  speaks  I  the  very  first  provocation,  are  as  furiously 


power  into  the  enfeebled,  the  perverted  fa- 
culty.— If  you  think  otherwise,  try  the  ex- 
periment.  Persuade  men  to  this  necessary 
practice.  Urge  the  most  weighty  arguments ; 
devise  the  most  pathetic  expostulations  ;  let 
zeal  summon  all  her  force,  and  rhetoric  em- 
ploy all  her  art.  Without  being  a  prophet, 
I  dare  venture  to  foretell  the  issue.  Dis- 
appointments, repeated  disappointments,  will 
convince  you  that  our  divine  Master  knew 
what  he  said  when  he  solemnly  declared, 
"  No  man  can  come  to  me,  except  the  Fa- 
ther, which  hath  sent  me,  draw  him.*  John 
vi.  44.  Our  church,  in  conformity  to  this 
and  other  scriptures,  has  taught  us  to  pray, 
"  Turn  thou  us,  O  good  Lord,"  for  nothing 
but  thy  omnipotent  agency  is  capable  of  do- 
ing it,  "  and  so  we  shall  be  turned." 


«  It  is  not  said  the  Father  drives,  but  draws :  not  by 
violent,  irrational,  compulsive  means ;  but  by  clear 
conviction,  sweet  persuasion,  and  inducements  suit- 
ed to  a  reasonable  being.  Those  are  the  cords  of  a 
beast ;  these  of  a  man.  So  that  we  are  not  acted  upon 
as  clock-work,  or  influenced  as  mere  machines,  but 
"  made  willing  in  the  day  of  his  power."  Psal,  ex.  3. 


resentful  as  ever.  Will  you  call  these  per- 
sons free,  because  their  task-masters  and 
their  tyrants  are  lodged  within  ?t  because 
the  fetters  are  forged,  not  for  the  meaner 
but  for  the  immortal  part  of  their  nature  ? 

Ther.  Let  us  pass  to  the  affections- 
These  are  to  the  soul  what  wings  are  to  the 
eagle,  or  sails  to  the  ship.  These  always 
stand  ready  to  receive  the  gales  of  interest, 
and  to  spring  at  the  signal  of  reason. 


•  St.  Paul  says  of  Christians,  and  reckons  himseli 
in  the  number,  that  naturally  they  served  (not  oia- 
xovistris  but  lovXivovTis,  were  absolute  slaves  to) 
"  diverse  lusts  and  pleasures."  Tit.  iii.  3.  The  whole 
verse  is  very  remarkable,  and  nothing  can  be  more 
apposite  to  Aspasio's  purpose.  It  shows  us,  what  they 
were  by  nature,  who  through  grace  became  livir\g 
images  of  the  blessed  God. 

This  mortifying  doctrine  is  often  acknowledged  by 
our  church  :  Thus  bepins  one  of  her  public  supplica- 
tions, "  Almighty  God,  who  alone  canst  order  the 
unruly  wills  and  affections  of  sinful  man."  It  seems 
we  cannot  determine  our  own  wills,  nor  regulate  our 
own  affections.    What  is  this  but  bondage  ? 

t Inordinate  desires 

And  upstart  passions  catch  the  government 
From  reason,  and  to  servitude  reduce 
Man   till  then  free. 


DIAI  0(;UK   XIII. 


305 


proportioned  to  tlie  bullast,  what  advantagt- 
will  accrue,  either  to  the  animal  or  to  the 
vessel  ?  The  one,  will  probably  be  over- 
set in  the  voyage,  the  other  will  lie  grovel- 
ling on  the  ground. 

Tlier.  Desire  seems  to  be  first,  which 
"  opens  the  mouth,  or  moves  the  wing,  or 
peeps."  Isa.  x.  14.  Desire  is  active  as  a 
flame,  and  ever  in  pursuit  of  happiness. 

Asp.  What  if  your  flame,  instead  of 
shooting  upwards,  should  point  its  inveited 
spires  to  the  earth  ?  Would  not  this  be 
strange,  and  a  sign  of  great  disorder  ? — God 
is  the  centre  of  peifection,  and  the  source  of 
felicity.  All  that  is  amiable  in  itself,  is 
comprehended  in  God.  All  that  is  benefi- 
cial to  us,  proceeds  from  God.  Do  our 
desires  uniformly  tend  to  this  superexcel- 
lent  Being?  Do  our  wishes  terminate  in 
the  enjoyment  of  his  ever-glorious  Majesty? 
Alas  !  we  are  naturally  estranged  from  him. 
We  covet  no  communion  with  him.  We 
are  wedded  to  trifles,  and  dote  upon  vanity ; 
but  to  God  we  say — it  is  evidently  the  lan- 
guage of  our  conduct — "  Depart  from  us  ? 
we  desire  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways." 
Jobxxi.  14. 

If  desire  is  the  first-born  among  the  affec- 
tions, observe  it  in  children.  There  it  ap- 
pears in  its  dawn,  and  has  most  iji  pure  na- 
ture- See  how  those  flies,  exulting  in  the 
sunny  gleam,  vibrate  with  all  the  rapidity  of 
motion  their  little  wings:*  Su  prompt  auti 
expedite  are  the  desires  of  children  to  any 
corrupting  diversion.  See  how  sluggishly 
that  snail,  crawling  forth  amidst  the  refresh- 
ing moisture,  drags  her  slow  length  along : 
So  dull,  if  not  reluctant,  are  the  dispositions 
of  our  children  to  any  improving  exercise- 
Rewards  will  hardly  win  them  to  the  latter  ; 
the  rod  can  hartlly  deter  them  from  the  for- 
mer :  And  none,  none  but  God,  "  by  his 
special  grace  preventing  them,  can  put  into 
their  minds  goud  desires. ""f 

Is  our  love  under  better  regulation  ? 
How  easily  are  we  captivated  with  a  fair 
complexion  and  graceful  form,  especially 
when  set  off  with  the  decorations  of  dress  ; 
but  how  little  affected  with  the  beauty  of 
internal  character,  with  the  ornaments  of 
virtue,  and  the  graces  of  Christianity  !  Can 
it  be  supposed,  that  the  pulse  of  the  soul 
beats  regularly,  when  tlieie  is  such  a  pas- 
sionate fondness  for  fading  embellishments, 
and  such  a  cold  indifference  for  the  most 
substantial  endowments  ?  How  ready  are 
we  to  be  enamoured  with  well  proportioned 
clay,  often  to  our  apparent  prejudice,  some- 
times to  our  utter  ruin  ?  yet  how  backward 


•  The  wings  of  a  fly  are  supposed  to  have  the 
quickest  motion  of  any  material  substance  which 
lives.  Ami  if  they  make,  as  naturalints  imagine, 
some  hundreds  of  vibrations  in  a  second  of  time,  I 
lliink  there  can  be  no  coinpctilion  in  ihe  case. 

t  Collect  for  Easter-day. 


to  love  that  infinitely  loving  and  lovely  Re- 
deemer,  who  would  die  himself  rather  than 
we  should  become  a  prey  to  death  !  Tin- 
der we  are,  perfect  tii.der  to  the  sparks  of 
irrational  and  dissolute  affection  ;  harder 
than  adament,  colder  than  ice,  to  this  hea- 
veidy  flame. 

Tlier.  If  our  love  is  blind,  our  fear  has  not 
lost  her  eyes-  Fear  is  quick  of  apprehen- 
sion ;  and  instead  of  being  stupidly  insen- 
sible, is  ready  to  "  rise  up  at  the  voice  of  a 
bird."  Eccl.  xii.  4- 

Asp.  The  passion  of  fear  is  sufficiently 
active,  but  deplorably  misajiplied.  We  fear 
the  reproach  of  men.  But  are  we  alarmed 
at  the  view  of  that  everlasting  shame  which 
the  Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  shall  pour 
upon  the  ungodly?  We  shudder  at  the 
drawn  dagger,  and  stand  appalled  at  the 
headlong  precipice:  But  how  often  have 
we  defied  the  sword  of  almighty  vengeance, 
and  sported  upon  the  brink  of  irretrievable 
perdition  ? 

Sin  is  the  most  pernicious  of  all  evils. 
Sin  violates  the  divine  command,  and  jn'o- 
\okes  the  divine  Majesty.  Sin  oflers  de- 
spite to  the  blessed  Spirit,  and  tramples  up- 
on the  blood  of  Jesus.  For  sin,  the  trans- 
gressor is  banished  fiom  the  blissful  presence 
of  God,  and  doomed  to  dwell  with  inex- 
tinguishable burnings.  Do  we  dread  this 
grand  destroyer  of  our  happiness  ?  dread  it 
more  than  any  calamities,  more  than  all 
plagues  ? — Take  one  of  those  fine  may- 
dukes,  which  glow  with  so  beautifid  a  scar- 
let on  yonder  espalier  -.  Offer  it  to  the  black- 
Inrd  that  serenades  us  from  the  neighbour- 
ing elm.  The  creature,  though  fond  of  the 
dainty,  will  fly  from  our  hand,  as  hastily  as 
from  a  levelled  fowling-piece.  He  suspects 
a  design  upon  his  liberty  ;  and  therefore  will 
endure  any  extremity,  will  even  starve  to 
death,  rather  than  taste  the  most  tempting 
delicacy  in  such  hazardous  circumstances. 
Aie  we  equally  fearful  of  an  infinitely  great- 
er danger  ?  Do  we  fly,  with  equal  solici- 
tude, from  the  delusive  but  destructive  wiles 
of  sin  ?  Alas  !  do  we  not  too  often  swallow 
the  bait,  even  when  we  plainly  discover  the 
fatal  hook  ?  Do  we  not  snatch  the  forbid- 
den fruit,  though  conscience  remonstrates, 
though  God  prohibits,  though  death  eternal 
threatens. 

Titer.  Conscience,  then,  according  to 
your  own  account,  has  escaped  the  general 
shipwreck-  Conscience  is  God's  vicegerent 
in  the  soul,  and  executes  her  oflice  faithful- 
ly. Even  the  Gentiles  "show  tlie  work 
of  the  law  written  in  their  hearts,  their  con- 
science also  bearing  witness,  and  their 
thoughts  the  meanwhile  accusing  or  else 
excusing  one  another."*     Rom.  ii.  l.'i. 

Asp.  If  there  be  any  remains  of  the  di- 
vine image,  perhajis  they  arc  to  be  found  in 
the  conscience.      Uut  even  this   is   not  ex- 


30G 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


empt  from  the  common  ruin. — Consider  its 
light.  It  is  like  a  dim  taper,  feebly  glim- 
mering, and  serving  only  to  make  the  dark- 
ness visible.  Or,  if  it  discovers  any  thing. 
It  is  an  obscme  something,  we  know  not 
what,  which  instead  of  informing  tantalizes 
us;  and  instead  of  guiding  bewilders  us,  as 
false  and  delusory  lights  on  the  shore  put  a 
cheat  upon  the  mariner,  and  lead  him  on  to 
ruin.* — Consider  its  operations.  It  is  either 
dumb  or  dead,  or  both.  Dumb ;  or  else 
how  vehemently  would  it  upbraid  us  for  our 
shocking  ingratitude  to  the  supreme  omni- 
potent Benefactor  ?  how  loudly  would  it  in- 
veigh against  our  stupid  neglect  of  spiritual 
interests,  and  eternal  ages  ?  Dead  ;  other- 
wise how  keenly  would  it  smart  when  gash- 
ed with  wounds — numerous  as  our  repeated 
violations  of  the  divine  law,  deep  as  the  hor- 
rid aggravations  of  our  various  iniquities  ? 

Ther.  Do  you  call  this  an  answer  to  my 
objection,  Aspasio  ?  If  it  be  an  answer,  it 
resembles,  in  point  of  satisfactory  evidence, 
the  light  which  you  ascribe  unto  the  con- 
science. 

Asp.  The  Gentiles,  you  allege,  show  tlie 
work,  but  not  the  love  of  the  law,  written 
on  their  hearts.  Some  leading  notices  of 
right  and  v/rong  they  have,  some  specula- 
tive strictures  of  good  and  evil ;  but  without 
a  real  abhorrence  of  the  one,  or  a  cordial 
delight  in  the  other :  which,  far  from  enno- 
bling their  nature,  far  from  vindicating  their 
practice,  argues  the  exceeding  depravity  of 
the  former,  and  renders  the  latter  absolutely 
without  excuse. 

No ;  you  say,  conscience  excuses  the 
heathens.  Rather,  their  conscience  bears 
witness  to  the  equity  of  the  law,  while  their 
thoughts  make  some  weak  apology  for  the 
tenor  of  their  conduct.  This  is  far  from 
acquitting,  far  from  justifying  them.  Be- 
sides, these  weak  attempts  to  excuse  are 
always  founded  on  ignorance.  Did  they 
know  themselves,  their  duty,  or  their  God, 
conscience  would,  without  the  least  hesita- 
tion, bring  in  her  verdict  Guilty.  The  apos- 
tle assures  us  that  till  faith,  which  is  a  divine 
principle,  takes  place  in  our  breasts,  "  both 
the  mind  and  conscience  are  defiled  :  Tit.  i. 
15  :  here  and  elsewhere  very  plainly  inti- 
mating, that  the  conscience  is  evil,  and  ever 
will  be  evil,  till  it  is  "sprinkled  with  the 
blood  of  Christ."  Heb.  x.  22. 

It  accuses  some,  I  acknowledge,  and  it 
ought  to  accuse,  yea,  to  condemn  all.     But 


*  This  seems  to  have  been  the  case  with  the  bulk 
of  the  Heathen  world.  Conscience  arraigned,  and 
found  them  guilty.  This  put  them  upon  practising 
their  abommable,  sometimes  their  inhuman  idolatries. 
Nay,  this  mduced  them  to  give  the  most  scandalous 
and  impious  misrepresentations  of  the  Deity.  That 
they  might  sheath  the  sting  of  conscience,  and  find 
some  salvo  for  their  own  iniquities,  they  made  even 
the  objects  of  their  worship  the  patrons  and  the  pre- 
cedents of  their  favourite  vices. 


even  here  it  evidences  itself  to  be  corrupt, 
for  its  accusations  are  sometimes  erroneous, 
and  no  better  than  false  witnesses,  sometimes 
partial,*  and  suborned  by  appetite  ;  and 
very,  very  often  ineffectual.  Nay,  when  they 
do  take  eftect,  they  produce  no  fruit  that  is 
truly  good.  They  work  not  a  genuine  hu- 
miliation, or  an  unfeigned  repentance  ;  but 
either  a  slavish  dread  of  God  as  a  severe 
judge,  or  hatred  of  him  as  an  inexorable 
enemy. 

Ther.  Hatred  of  God  !  Astonishing  im- 
piety !  Is  it  possible  for  the  human  heart 
to  admit  such  enormous,  almost  incredible 
wickedness  ? 

Asp.  You  may  well  be  astonished.  The-- 
ron  ;  and  God  may  justly  demand  ;  "  What 
iniquity  have  my  people  found  in  me,  that 
they  are  gone  far  from  me,  and  have  walked 
after  vanity  ?"  Jer.  ii.  5.  "  I  created  you 
out  of  nothing,  and  endowed  you  with  an 
immortal  soul.  Asa  father,  I  have  provided 
for  you  :  As  a  nurse,  I  have  cherished  you. 
I  have  consigned  over  to  your  possession  the 
earth,  and  the  fulness  thereof.  All  my  crea- 
tures do  you  service,  and  even  my  angels 
minister  unto  your  good  Do  you  desire 
greater  demonstrations  of  my  love  ?  I  have 
given  what  was  dearer  to  me  than  all  angels, 
than  all  worlds  :  I  have  given  my  son  from 
my  bosom,  to  die  in  your  stead.  Would 
you  have  farther  evidences  of  my  tender,  my 
distinguished  regard  ?  Behold  !  I  touch  the 
mountains,  and  they  smoke  :  I  look  upon 
the  earth,  and  it  trembles  :  I  cast  even  the 
princes  of  heaven,  when  they  break  my  law, 
into  chains  of  darkness.  But  to  you,  O 
men,  I  condescend  to  act  as  a  supplicant ! 
Though  highly  injured,  and  horribly  affront- 
ed, I  beseech  you,  again  and  again  I  beseech 
you,  to  be  reconciled." 

To  hatef  such  a  God,  is  indeed  the  most 
detestable  impiety.  Yet  man,  foolish  man, 
practises  this  impiety,  whenever,  for  the  sake 
of  a  vile  lust,  an  ignoble  pleasure,  or  an  un- 
ruly passion,  he  transgresses  the  command 
of  his  Creator. 

Shall  I  exemplify  the  doctrine  in  another 
of  the  affections  ? 

Ther.  In  truth,  Aspasio,  I  begin  to  be 
sick  of  the  subject.  If  human  nature  is  so 
ulcerated,  the  less  you  touch  it  the  better. 
However,  let  us  not  quite  omit  the  irascible 
appetite. 


•  Partial^-otherwise,  how  could  the  most  celebrat- 
ed among  the  ancient  heroes  applaud  and  practise  that 
execrable  unnatural  crime,  self-murder  ?  How  could 
their  first-rate  historians  extol  and  almost  consecrate 
that  diabolical  principle  of  action,  pride  ?  And  how 
could  their  ablest  teachers  of  morality,  not  only  tole- 
rate, but  establish  the  error,  by  neglecting  to  find  so 
much  as  a  name  for  that  amiable  virtue,  humility. 

t  Hatred  of  God  is  so  shocking  an  expression,  that 
one  would  almost  wish  never  to  hear  or  read  it.  But 
it  occurs  in  our  unerring  book ;  is  too  often  exem- 
plified in  common  life ;  and  is  engraven,  by  corrupt 
nature,  on  every  human  heart.  See  Horn.  i.  30; 
Exod,  XX.  5;  John  xv.  26;  Rom,  viii.  7- 


DIALOGUE   XIII. 


307 


Axp.  Of  this  we  h?ve  already  taken  a  side 
view  :  if  you  choose  to  see  it  in  full  propor- 
tion, make  your  observation  on  Fervidus. 
Fervidus  comes  home  in  a  rage.  His 
cheeks  are  pale  and  his  lips  quiver  with  ex- 
cess of  passion.  Though  he  can  hardly 
speak,  he  vows  revenge,  and  utters  impre- 
cations. What  is  the  cause  of  all  this 
wondrous  ferment  ?  A  neighbour,  it  seems, 
has  dropt  some  reflecting  hint,  or  a  servant 
has  blundered  in  some  trifling  message. 
Such  usage,  Fervidus  says,  is  intolerable, 
and  such  negligence  impardoiiable.  This 
same  Fervidus  has  offered  innumerable  af- 
fronts to  his  Maker,  he  has  most  scanda- 
lously neglected  the  will  of  his  almighty 
L<jr(l,  yet  feels  no  indignation  against  him- 
selt.  He  is  all  fury  wl  en  his  own  credit  is 
touched,  but  when  the  interest  of  Christ  is 
wounded,  he  can  sit  unconcerned,  or  pass 
it  off"  with  a  laugh.  Anger,  I  acknowledge, 
is  sometimes  becoming  and  useful.  But 
is  this  its  right  temperature  ?  this  its  pro- 
per application  ? 

Thcr.  This  is  the  practice  only  of  some 
few  turbulent  spirits.  To  saddle  their  qua- 
lities upon  every  person,  is  a  procedure  just 
as  equitable,  as  the  madman's*  calculation 
was  reasonable,  who  took  an  account  of 
every  ship  which  entered  the  harbour,  and 
set  it  down  for  his  own. 

Asp-  The  latter  part  of  my  charge,  I  fear, 
is  applicable  to  more  than  a  few.  How- 
ever, let  us  consider  the  most  calm  and  se- 
date minds.  How  are  they  affected  under 
injuries  ?  Do  they  never  aggravate  failings 
into  crimes  ?  Do  they  find  it  easy  to  ab- 
stain from  every  emotion  of  ill-will  ?  easy  to 
love  their  enemies,  and  do  good  to  those 
who  hate  them  ?  These  god-like  tempers, 
if  our  nature  was  not  degenerated,  would  be 
the  spontaneous  produce  of  the  soul.  But 
how,  alas  !  they  are  not  raised  without  much 
difl^iculty  :  seldom  come  to  any  considerable 
degree  of  eminence  j  never  arrive  at  a  state 
of  true  perfection.  An  undoubteil  j^roof, 
that  they  are  exotics,  not  natives  of  the 
soil. 

Now  we  arc  speaking  of  plants,  cast  your 
eye  ui)on  the  kitchen-garden.  Many  of 
those  herbs  will  perfume  the  hard  hand 
which  crushes  them,  and  embalm  the  rude 
foot  which  tramples  on  them.  Such  was 
the  benign  conduct  of  our  Lord  :  He  al- 
ways overcame  evil  with  good.  When  his 
disciples  disregarded  him  in  bis  bitter  agony, 
he  made  the  kindest  excuse  for  their  un- 
grateful stupidity.  Matth.  xxvi.  41.  When 
hisenemics,  withiunparalleled barbarity,  spilt 
his  very  blood,  he  jjleaded  their  ignorance 
asan  extenuation  of  theirguilt.  Lukexxiii.34. 
Is  the  same  spirit  in  us  which  was  also  in  our 


Thrasylus,  an  Athenian. 


divine  Master?  Then  are  our  passions  right- 
ly poised,  and  duly  tempered.  But  if  re- 
sentment kindles,  and  animosity  rankles  in 
our  hearts;  this  is  an  infallible  sign,  that 
we  swerve  from  our  Saviour's  pattern,  con- 
sequently, are  fallen  from  our  primitive  rec 
titude. 

Ther.  What  say  you  of  the  fancy?  This, 
sure,  if  no  other,  retains  the  primitive  rec- 
titude. What  pictures  does  she  form,  and 
what  excursions  does  she  make?  She  can 
dive  to  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  can  soar 
to  the  height  of  the  stars,  and  walk  upon 
the  boundaries  of  creation. 

Asp.  That  the  fancy  is  lively  and  excur- 
sive, I  readily  grant.  It  can  out-travel  the 
post,  or  out-fly  the  eagle.  But  if  it  travel 
only  to  pick  up  shells,  or  fly  abroad  to 
bring  home  mischief;  then,  1  apprehend, 
though  you  should  admire  the  faculty,  you 
will  hardly  be  in  raptures  with  its  agency. 
This  is  the  real  truth.  Our  fancy,  till  di- 
vine grace  regulate  and  exalt  its  operations, 
is  generally  employed  in  picking  painted 
shells,  or  culling  venomous  herbs  ;  "  weav- 
ing (as  the  prophet  very  elegantly,  and  no 
less  exactly  describes  the  case)  the  spider's 
web,  or  hatching  cockatrice-eggs  ;"  Isa.  lix. 
5  ;  busied  in  the  most  absurd  impertinences, 
or  acting  in  speculation  the  vilest  iniquities- 
That  which  should  be  "  a  garden  enclosed, 
a  fountain  sealed,"  Cant  iv.  12,  for  the 
Prince  of  Peace,  is  the  thoroughfare  of  va- 
nity. And  even  when  we  are  renewed 
from  above,  O!  how  necessary  is  it  to  keep 
an  incessant  watch,  and  exercise  a  strict 
discipline,  over  this  volatile,  variable,  treach- 
erous vagrant ! 

The  memory,  as  well  as  the  fancy,  is  im- 
paired, or  if  not  impaired,  is  debauched.  Why 
else  does  it  so  firmly  retain  the  impressions  of 
an  injury,  but  so  easily  let  slip  the  remem- 
brance of  a  benefit?  Anyidle  fopperies  which 
sooth  our  vanity,  and  increase  our  corrup- 
tion, cleave  to  the  thoughts,  as  the  vexatious 
burr  to  our  clothes;  while  the  noble  truths  of 
the  gospel,  and  the  rich  mercies  of  a  gra- 
cious God,  slide  away  from  the  mind,  and 
leave  no  lasting  trace  behind  them.  This 
double  perverseness  is  very  emphatically  and 
too  truly  represented  by  Jeremiah  :  "  C;in 
a  maid  forget  her  ornaments,  or  a  bride  her 
attire  ?  Yet  my  people  have  forgotten  me, 
days  without  number.  Jer.  ii.  32.  If  we 
hear  a  loose  hint,  or  read  an  immodest  ex- 
pression, they  are  almost  sure  to  fasten 
themselves  on  our  memory.  If  shaken  off, 
they  follow  us  with  a  troublesome  impor- 
tunity. If  excluded,  as  unwelcome  visit- 
ants, they  force  themselves  again  and  again 
upon  our  imagination.  They  dog  us  to  the 
closet ;  they  haunt  our  most  retired  lioins  ; 
and  too  often  disturb  our  very  devotio/is. 
Tell  me  now,  can  that  faculty  be  uprif;ht 
and  uncorrupted,  which  is  a  perforattd  sitv»- 


.•J08 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


to  transmit   the   beneficial,    but    a   thirsty 
sponge  to  imbibe  the  pernicious  ?* 

Titer.  Well,  my  friend,  whatever  guilt  I 
or  others  have  contracted,  flattery  I  dare  be 
positive,  is  none  of  yours.  Human  nature 
has  received  no  heightening  or  adulatory 
touches  from  your  pencil,  ifou  have  por- 
trayed her  foolish  and  beastly,  and  every 
thing  bad  and  devilish. 

Asp  And  this,  even  this  abomination  I 
must  not  secrete,  I  dare  not  except.  Envy 
is  a  devilish  disposition.  It  subsists  no- 
where but  in  damned  spirits  and  fallen 
souls :  Yet,  infernal  as  it  is,  it  has  been 
found  in  persons  of  the  most  exalted  charac- 
ter. The  magnanimous  Joshua  felt  its  can- 
kerous tooth.  Numb.  xi.  29.  The  disciples 
of  the  blessed  Jesus  were  soured  with  its 
malignant  leaven.  Matt,  xx-  24.  An  apos- 
tle declares,  that  "  the  spirit  which  dwelleth 
in  us,  lusteth  to  envy,"  James  iv.  5,  is  im- 
petuously prone  to  that  detestable  temper. 

Lying  is  confessedly  a  diabolical  practice  ; 
yet  how  unaccountably  forward  are  our 
children  to  utter  falsehood?  As  soon  as 
they  are  born,  they  go  astray ;  and  as 
soon  as  they  speak,  they  speak  lies — I 
said  unaccountably  ;  but  I  recall  the  expres- 
sion :  The  cause  is  evident — they  have  lost 
the  image  of  the  God  of  truth,  and  are  be- 
come like  that  apostate  spirit,  who  "  is  a  liar 
and  the  father  of  it."     John  viii   44. 

What  think  you  of  malice,  of  hate,  and 
revenge?  Are  they  not  each  a  species  of 
muider,  and  the  seed  of  the  old  serpent  ? 
Unless,  therefore,  we  are  entirely  free  from 
ail  these  hellish  emotions,  we  must,  we 
must  acknowledge,  "  that  the  prince  of  this 
world,"  John  xiv-  30,  has  his  party  within 
us.  May  the  almighty  hand  of  our  God  ex- 
tirpate and  subdue  it  day  by  day  ! 

You  tell  me  I  am  no  flatterer.  Should 
a  person  who  professes  himself  the  friend  of 
his  fellow-creatures,  soothe  them  into  a 
false  peace  ?  should  he  bolster  them  up  in 
a  groundless  conceit  of  their  excellency, 
M'hen  they  really  are  no  better  than  "an  un- 
clean thing  ?"  shall  the  snr^'eon  assure  his 
jjatient,  "all  is  well,"  even  when  the  morti- 
fication has  taken  place,  and  the  gangrene 
is  spreading  ?  This  were  to  refine  the  first 
out  of  all  benevolence,  and  to  flatter  the 
last  into  his  grave. 

A  disputant  of  less  complaisance  than  my 
Theron  would  probably  ask  with  a  con- 
temptuous sneer,  "  Ha\e  you  then  been 
drawing  your  own  picture  ?" — To  whom  I 
would   reply,    with   confusion  and   sorrow. 


*  This  I  think  suggests  an  unanswerable  confuta- 
tion of  that  specious  argument,  frequently  usedin  be- 
half of  some  fashionable  but  dissolute  diversions. 
"  They  are  intersjiersed,"  say  their  admirers,  "  with 
sentiments  of  virtue,  and  maxims  of  morality.' 
Should  we  admit  the  tr  th  of  this  plea,  yet  the  dL'- 
p:aved  disposition  of  ma:ikir'l  it  pretty  suic  to  drop 
the  morality,  and  carry  away  the  riba  dry. 


"  I  have  ;"  alleging  this  omy  to  moderate 
my  confusion,  that  I  am  daily  seeking,  by 
prayer  and  watchfulness,  more  and  more 
"  to  put  off  this  old  man,  which  is  coiTupt 
according  to  the  deceitful  lusts."  Eph.  iv. 
22.  And,  to  alleviate  my  sorrow,  I  am  en- 
deavouring continually  to  remember,  that 
however  unworthy  I  am,  however  vile  I  may 
have  been,  my  adored  Redeemer's  right- 
eousness is  perfect;  and  in  this  righteous- 
ness every  believer  is  to  make  his  boast. 

Ther.  So  then  man  is  blind  in  his  under- 
standing ;  perverse  in  his  will  j  disorderly 
in  his  affections  ;  influenced  by  dispositions 
which  are  partly  brutal  and  partly  diaboli- 
cal  I  have  often  heard  you  extol,  in  terms 

of  high  admiration,  the  virtue  of  humility  : 
You  have  lavished  all  the  riches  of  elo- 
quence when  haranguing  on  poverty  of 
spirit.  If  such  be  the  condition  of  man- 
kind, they  have  infinite  cause  to  be  poor  in 
spirit.  They  must  therefore  have  one  ex- 
cellency left,  and,  according  to  your  o\An 
account,  a  very  distinguishing  one. 

Asp.  Scarce  any  thing  displays  in  a  more 
glaring  light  the  extreme  depravity  of  m;ni 
than  his  strong  propensity  to  pride,  notwith 
standing  so  n.iich  vileness,  and  so  many  de- 
foi'raities — Should  the  noisome  leper  ad- 
mire the  beaiify  of  his  complexion,  or  the 
impotent  para'ytif  glory  in  the  strength  of 
his  sinews,  would  they  not  be  mistnkeii, 
even  to  a  degree  of  sottishness  and  frenzy  ? 
Yet  for  man,  fallen  man,  who  lias  lost  his 
original  righteousness,  which  was  the  true 
ornament  of  his  nature ;  who  is  become 
subject  to  base  and  sordid  lusts,  or  as  the 
apostle  speaks,  "  is  earthly  and  sensual," — 
for  him  to  be  proud,  is  still  more  absurdly 
wicked.  And  since  this  is  the  case,  I  can- 
not acquit  him  from  the  last  and  heaviest 
article  of  the  sacred  writer's  charge  ;  I  have 
a  fresh  and  more  convincing  proof  that  \te 
do  him  no  wrong,  when  we  call  his  nature, 
his  disposition,  his  wisdom — "devilish." 
Jam.  iii.  15. 

Ther.  Why  do  you  reckon  pride  an  uni- 
versally prevailing  corruption  ?  I  see  no 
ground  for  such  a  dishonourable  suspicion. 
1  hope  I  myself  am  an  instance  to  the  con- 
trary To  unguarded  sallies  of  passion,  to 
several  other  faults,  I  confess  myself  sub- 
ject ;  but  cannot  think  that  I  am  proud. 

Asp.  Ah  !  Theron,  if  you  was  not  proud, 
you  would  not  be  passionate.  Unreason- 
able anger  always  proceeds  from  an  over- 
weening opinion  of  our  own  worth.  One 
who,  besides  his  acquired  knowledge  of  hu- 
man nature,  had  the  supernatural  gift  of  dis- 
cerning spirits,  is  observed  to  join  "  humi- 
lity" and  "  meekness,"  Eph.  iv.  2,  intimat- 
ing, that  they  are  amiable  twins,  and  where 
one  exists  the  other  cannot  be  absent. 
Always  consistent  with  himself,  he  links 
together    the'  oj'posite    vices,    "  heady   and 


DIALOGUE   XIII. 


309 


liigh-minHeil,  2  Tim.  iii.  4,  not  obscurely 
hinting,  that  those  who  are  easily  ])rov(>kerl 
are  certainly  proud.  Shall  T  ad'J,  without 
oflFence,  if  we  fancy  our  minds  to  he  clear 
from  the  weeds  of  vanity,  and  our  thoughts 
free  from  the  workings  of  self  admiration, 
it  is  a  most  pregnant  symptom,  that  we  are 
overrun  with  the  former,  abandoned  to  the 
latter,  and  blinded  by  both. 

Pride  was  the  first  sin  that  found  entrance 
into  our  nature,  and  it  is  perhaps  the  last 
that  will  be  expelled.  What  are  all  our 
afflictions,  but  a  remedy  provided  for  this 
inveterate  disease  ;  intended  to  "  hide  pride 
from  man."  Job  xxxiii.  17.  What  is  the 
institution  of  the  gospel,  but  a  battery  erect- 
ed against  this  stronghold  of  Satan  ;  or- 
dained lo  "  cast  down  every  high  imagina- 
tion." 2  Cor.  X.  4,  3.  Though  that  remedy 
is  often  applied,  though  this  battery  is  con- 
tinually playing,  yet  the  peccant  humour  is 
not  entirely  purged  off,  nor  the  elatement 
of  spirit  totally  subdued,  till  mortality  is 
swallowed  up  of  life. 

Pride  is  the  sin  which  most  easily  besets 
us.  "  Who  can  say,  I  have  made  my  heart 
clean,"  Prov.  xx.  9,  from  this  iniquity  ?  It 
defiles  our  duties,  and  intermingles  itself 
with  our  very  virtues.  It  starts  up,  I  know 
not  how,  in  our  most  solemn  hours  and  our 
most  sacred  employs.  The  good  Hezekiah, 
whose  prayers  were  more  powerful  than  all 
the  forces  of  Sennacherib,  was  not  proof 
against  the  wiles  of  this  subtile  sorceress.  2 
Chron.  xxxii.  25.  Even  the  great  apostle, 
who  had  been  caught  up  into  the  third  hea- 
vens, was  in  danger  of  being  pufled  up  with 
pride  ;  in  such  great  danger,  that  it  was 
necessary  to  put  a  lancet  into  the  gathering 
tumour ;  or,  as  he  himself  expresses  it,  to 
fix  a  "  thorn  into  his  flesh,  and  permit  the 
messenger  of  Satan  to  buflet  him."  2  Cor. 
xii.  7. 

How  pathetically  is  this  corruption  la- 
mented, and  how  truly  described  by  "a 
sweet  singer  of  our  Israel  !" 

But  pride,  that  busy  sin, 
Spoils  all  that  I  perform  ;  * 

Cursed  jiride  !  that  creejis  securely  in. 
And  swells  a  haughty  worm. 

Thy  glories  I  abate. 

Or  praise  thee  with  design; 
Part  of  thy  favours  I  forget. 

Or  think  the  merit  mine. 

The  very  songs  I  frame 

Are  faithless  to  thy  cause; 
And  steal  the  honours  of  thy  name. 

To  build  their  own  applause 

Watt's  Hoy.  I.yr. 

Titer.  Now,  I  presume  you  have  given  the 
ast  touches  to  your  distorted  portrait. 

Asp.  There  are  other  disagreeable  and 
shocking  features  ;  but  these  I  shall  cast 
into  shades,  or  hide  under  a  veil.  One  par- 
ticular you  must  allow  me  to  add,  which, 
like  a  sullen  air  in  the  countenance,  throws 
aggravated  horror  over  the  whole  :  I  mean, 
an  incru'.ation  to  be  fonil  uf  our  slavery. 


In  other  instances,  the  "  captive  exile 
hasteth  to  be  loosed."  Isa.  li  li.  But  bore 
we  prefer  bondage  to  freedom,  and  are  loath 
to  leave  our  prison  Of  this,  our  back- 
wardness to  self-examination  is  both  a  con- 
sequence and  a  proof.  Self-examination, 
under  the  agency  of  the  Spirit,  would  open 
a  window  in  our  dungeon  ;  would  show  us 
our  wretched  condition,  and  teach  us  to  sigh 
for  deliverance.  Why  have  we  such  a  dis- 
like of  reproof  ?  Because  we  hug  our  chains, 
and  choose  darkness  rather  than  light. 
Reproof  is  more  grating  than  the  harshest 
discord,  though  it  tends  to  dissolve  the  en- 
chantment, and  rescue  us  from  the  tyranny 
of  sin  ;  while  flattery,  which  abets  the  de- 
lusion, and  strengthens  the  spell,  is  music  to 
our  ears.  Is  not  our  reason,  which  should 
arraign  and  condemn  every  irregularity,  fm- 
ward  to  invent  excuses,  and  to  spare  the  fa- 
vourite folly  ?  Reason,  which  should  nn- 
sheath  the  dagger,  super-induces  the  mask  ; 
and,  instead  of  striking  at  the  heart  of  our 
vices,  screens  them  under  the  cover  of  some 
plausible  names.  A  wicked  habit  is  called 
a  human  infirmity,  ensnaring  diversions  pass 
for  innocentamusements,  a  revengeful  dispo- 
sition is  termed  spirit,  gallaniry,  and  honour. 
Thus  our  reason  (if,  when  so  egregiously 
perverted,  it  deserves  the  name)  is  inge- 
nious to  obstruct  our  recovery,  and  rivets  on 
the  shackles  which  our  passions  have  form- 
ed.' 

This  the  eternal  Wisdom  foresaw,  and 
therefore  uttered  that  tender  expostulation, 
"  How  long,  ye  simple  ones,  will  ye  love 
simplicity,  and scorners  delight  in  their  scorn- 
ing, and  fools  hate  knowledge  ?"  Even  the 
inestimably  precious  knowledge  of  an  all- 
atoning  and  completely  justifying  Saviour; 
who  preaches,  who  has  purchased,  and  who 
works  deliverance — preaches  in  his  word, 
has  purchased  by  his  blood,  and  « oiks  by 
his  Spirit,  deliverance  for  the  captives,  the 
wretched  captives  of  ignorance,  sin,  and 
death.  This  I  take  to  be  the  most  flagrant 
and  deplorable  effect  of  human  depravity — 
our  aversion  to  the  doctrine,  the  privileges, 
the  grace  of  the  gospel.  Beware,  dear  The- 
ron,  lest  you  prove  my  point  by — shall  I 
speak  it  ?  would  you  suspect  it  ? — your  own 
practice-  Zealous  as  1  am  for  my  tenets, 
I  should  be  sorry,  extremely  sorry,  to  hava 
such  a  demonstration  of  their  truth. 

Ther.  You  are  highly  obliging,  Aspasio, 
to  single  me  out  for  your  evidence.  Yet 
why  should  the  honour  be  appropriated  to 
myself?  It  belongs,  upon  the  foot  of  the  pre- 
ceding calculation,  not  to  your  friend    only, 

•  I'orhnps  this  is  what  our  Lord  means,  when  de- 
veloping the  human  heart,  and  discovering  its  latent 
enormities,  he  closes  the  dark  account  with  ecp^o  ■  i/vjt, 
foiilLshnc.s.i:  implying  that  stupidity  which  has  no 
sense  of  it.s  inisory:  that  ))ervcrsrn''ss  wliich  has  no 
inclination  for  a  recovery  .  both  which  render  nil  the 
other  evils  far  more  inveterate,  Mark  vii.  'J2. 


310 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


but  to  the  whole  species.  If  you  was  aim-  j  and  gloomy  temper  suited  that  sequestered 
ing  at  none  but  the  licentious  and  aban-  bower;  because  the  memorable  adventure 
doned,  you   would   have    none   to    oppose  i  there  represented,  is  with  me  a  favouricepor- 


you  but  persons  of  that  character.  Your 
arrows  of  satire  would  then  be  rightly  level- 
led, and  might  be  serviceable  to  mankind  ; 
whereas,  to  put  all  in  the  black  list,  to  mark 
all  with  the  villain's  brand— this  can  never 
be  Christian  charity,  this  is  insufferable 
censoriousness. 

Asp.  Let  me  beseech  you,  Theron,  not 
to  misapprehend  my  design.  I  speak  not 
as  3  malevolent  satirist,  but  would  imitate 
the  faithful  physician.  I  am  opening  the 
sore,  that  it  may  admit  the  healing  balm ; 
and  should  I  perform  the  operation  with  an 
efivenomed  instrument?     My  soul  abhors 

the  thought I  must  entreat  you  likewise 

to  remember  the  distinction  between  a  state 
of  nature  and  a  state  of  grace.  We  are  all 
naturally  evil.  Such  we  should  for  ever  con- 
tinue, did  not  a  supernatural  power  inter- 
vene ;  making  some  to  differ,  both  from  their 
original  selves,  and  from  the  generality  of 
their  neighbours.  Are  they  refined  in  their 
temper,  and  reformed  in  their  life  ?  T  grant 
it.  But  then  it  is  the  influence  of  the 
sanctifying  Spirit,  which  purges  away  their 
dross,  yet  not  without  leaving  some  alloy. 

Tker.  Here,  Aspasio  you  certainly  strain 
the  bow,  till  it  breaks  ;  since  scripture  it- 
self celebrates  some  persons  as  absolutely 
perfect.  \Vhat  says  Moses,  the  inspired 
historian  ?  "  Noah  was  perfect  in  his  ge- 
neration." Gen.  vi.  9.  M^hat  says  the  God 
of  Moses,  who  can  neither  deceive  nor  be 
deceived  ?  "  Job  was  a  perfect  man  and 
an  upright."  Job.  i.  L  consequently  their 
nature  must  be  entirely  cleansed  from  this 
hereditary  defilement ;  and  their  charac- 
ter confutes  your  derogatory  representa- 
tions of  mankind. 

Asp.  Those  eminent  saints  were  perfect ; 
that  is,  they  were  sanctified  throughout, 
sanctified  in  all  their  faculties;  no  one  grace 
of  religion  was  lacking.  As  in  the  new- 
born infant  there  is  a  human  creature  com- 
plete ;  no  constituent  part  of  the  vital  frame 
IS  wanting ;  though  each  is  tender,  all  are 
very  feeble,  and  none  arrived  at  the  full 
size. 

They  were  upright.  This  word  seems 
to  be  explanatory  of  the  preceding;  and 
signifies  an  unfeigned  desire,  joined  with  a 
hearty  endeavour,  to  obey  the  whole  will  of 
God ;  excluding  not  all  defect,  but  all 
reigning  hypocrisy,  and  willful  remissness. 
— The  interpretation,  thus  limited,  is  of  a 
piece  with  their  conduct.  If  stretched  to  a 
higher  pitch,  it  is  evidently  inconsistent 
with  the  narrative  of  their  lives. 

Pray,  what  was  yo-ar  motive  for  decorat- 
ing the  syls-an  retirement  (which  sheltered 
us  ypFterday)  witii  the  statue  of  Elijah  ? 

T/ter.   Because  I  thought   liis  solitary  life 


tion  of  sacred  history. 

Are  we  pleased  with  spirited  and  delicate 
railery  ?  Nothing  exceeds  his  pungent  sar- 
casm on  the  stupid  and  despicable  dupes  of 
idolatry.  Every  sentence  is  keen  as  a  razor, 
&nd  pointed  as  a  dagger,  yet  wears  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  most  courtly  complaisance. 
We  may  truly  say,  in  the  beautiful  language 
of  the  Psalmist,  "  His  words  are  smoother 
than  oil,  and  yet  be  they  very  swords  !"* 

Are  we  delighted  with  instances  of  mag- 
nanimity? A  single  prophet,  unsupported 
by  any  human  aid,  maintains  the  cause  of 
truth  against  the  king,  his  grandees,  and 
hundreds  of  the  apostate  priests.  He  ven- 
tures to  stake  all  his  credit,  to  risk  his  very 
life,  and  (what  was  dearer  to  him  than  per- 
sonal credit,  or  bodily  hfe)  the  honour  of 
the  true  God,  and  interests  of  his  holy  reli- 
gion ;  to  risk  all  on  the  immediate  inter- 
position of  a  most  surprising  miracle. 

Do  we  admire  the  triumphs  of  faith  ?  His 
faith  was  in  a  manner  omnipotent.  He 
prays,  and  torrents  of  fire  descend  from  the 
sky,  to  devour  his  adversaries,  2  Kings  i. 
10.  He  prays  ligain,  and  the  sluices  of  hea- 
ven are  shut ;  there  is  neither  dew  nor  rain 
for  several  years,  1  Kings  xvii.  1.  A  third 
time  he  prays,  and  the  windows  from  on 
high  are  opened :  abundance  of  showers 
water  the  earth,  (Jam.  v,  17,  18.)  On  an- 
other occasion  he  presents  his  supplications, 
and  God  makes  his  feet  like  harts'  feet,  in- 
somuch that  an  aged  prophet  outruns  the 
royal  chariot,  (1  Kings  xviii.  46-) 

Asp.  I  commend  your  taste,  Theron  ;  and 
am  particularly  pleased  with  the  reasons  of 
your  choice.  But  do  not  _you  remember, 
that  even  the  wonder-working  Ti^hbite  failed 
in  his  resignation,  and  failed  in  his  faith  ? 
Eminent  as  he  was  for  mortification,  he  gave 
way  to  unreasonable  discontent  ;  and,  though 
a  champion  for  the  living  God,  he  yielded 
to  unbelieving  fear.f  "  The  man  Moses 
was  very  meek,  above  all  the  men  which 
were  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  Num.  xii. 
3  ;  yet  he,  even  he  was  provoked  in  his  spirit, 
and  spake  unadvisedly  with  his  lips,"  Psal. 


*  1  Kin<;s  xviii.  27.  "  And  it  came  to  pass  at  noon, 
that  Elijah  mocked  them,  and  said.  Cry  aloud,  for  he 
is  a  God.  Either  he  is  talking,  or  he  is  pursuing,  or  he 
is  in  a  journey,  or  peradveuture  he  sleepeth,  and  must 
be  awaked." 

t  Elias,  or  rather  Elijah,  "  was  a  man  subject  to 
like  passions  as  we  are,"  James  v.  17.  Ujion  wliich 
passage  an  eminent  commentator  makes  the  following 
remark ;  "  This  probably  is  said  with  respect  to  his 
fear  and  discontent,  manifested,  1  Kings  xix.  3,  4. 
OfionTTaCya  must,  I  think,  imply  a  state  liable  to  the 
irregular  workings  of  passion ;  not  free  from  the  sin- 
ful infirmities  of  nature.  Otherwise,  it  is  an  instance 
foreign  to  the  iiurpose,  does  by  no  means  answer  the 
end  designed  ;  which  is  to  encourage  the  heart,  and 
strengthen  the  faith,  evc.i  of  frail,  corrupt,  ollciiding 
crciit\>rcs.    bee  verse  10. 


DIALOGUE  XIII. 


cvi.  33.  Was  not  Peter  the  hero  amony 
our  Lord's  followers  ?  Yet  he  trembles, 
more  than  trembles,  at  the  shaking  of  a  leaf, 
he  denies  his  divine  Master,  scared  by  the 
voice  of  a  woman. 

Look  wherever  we  will,  we  find  proofs  of 
human  depravity,  reigning  uncontrolled  in 
some,  making  frequent  insurrection  in  all. 
It  is  written  in  our  own  hearts,  by  the  pen 
of  experience ;  the  fingerof  observation  points 
it  out  in  the  practice  of  others — even  in  the 
])ractice  of  those  who  have  been  saints  of  the 
first  rank,  and  of  the  highest  endowments. 
Yet  they  were  defective ; — defective  too,  in 
that  very  quality  which  was  their  |distin- 
guishing  gift,  in  which  they  particularly  ex- 
celled. 

Ther.  While  we  are  talking,  the  day  has 
insensibly  stole  itself  away,  and  left  us  sur- 
rounded with  twilight :  which  is  a  sort  of 
lustre  intermingled  with  darkness  ;  no  part 
wholly  lucid,  no  part  wholly  obscure.  An 
emblem,  according  to  your  representation, 
of  the  renewed  soul  and  its  imperfect  holi- 
ness. 

Asp.  A  very  just  one.  Even  where  the 
gospel  shines  still  there  is  an  incurrent 
gloom  of  corruption.  Ignorance  mixes  itself 
with  our  knowledge  ;  unbelief  cleaves  to  our 
faith  :  Nor  is  our  purity  free  from  all  con- 
tamination. The  prophet  Zechariah,  fortell- 
ing  the  establishment  of  the  gospel  kingdom, 
and  describing  the  slate  of  its  spiritual  sub- 
jects, says,  "  It  shall  come  to  pass  in  that 
day,  that  the  light  shall  not  be  clear  nor 
dark.""  This,  as  to  its  literal  sense,  we  now 
see  exemplified  in  the  circumambient  atmos- 
phere. With  regard  to  its  spiritual  meaning, 
every  true  believer  feels  it  accomplished  in 
his  own  breast. 

Ther.  While  you  are  so  vehement  in  de- 
crying all  human  attainments,  consider, 
Aspasio,  whether  you  do  not  check  and 
dispirit  us  in  the  pursuit  of  exalted  virtue. 

Asp.  I  suppose  you  never  expected  to  be 
such  an  adept  in  geometry  as  Archimedes, 
nor  so  profound  an  astronomer  as  Newton  ; 
yet  this  did  not  check  your  application  to  the 
study  of  mathematics,  or  the  contemplation 
of  the  heavens.  Your  brother,  the  merchant, 
I  presinne,  has  no  prospect  of  amjissing  the 
wealth  of  a  Croesu^  or  the  immense  treasures 
of  a  Kouli-Khan  ;  yet  this  does  not  dispirit 
him  in  prosecuting  the  business  which  brings 
him  butli  opulence  and  honour. 

However,  Theron,  so  long  as  you  deny 
the  im[)utati()n  of  Christ's  righteousness,  I 
must  acknowledge  you  act  a  consistent  jiart 
in  being  zealous  fur  the  perfection  of  person- 
al obedience.      You  ought  cither  to  acquire 


*  Zech.  xvi.  fi.  1  Cor.  xiii.  9.  "  For  we  know  in 
part."  Perhaps  this  declaration  of  the  .npostlc  may 
be  a  key  to  the  prophet's  meaning.  However,  it  is  a 
suiBcicnt  confirmation  of  Aspasio's  sentiment. 


311 

the  one,  or  to  accept  the  other  :  Thcrcrore 
I  shall  produce  no  more  arguments  for  your 
discouragement ;  but  shall  comprise  the 
whole  of  my  answer  in  the  motto  to  an  Irish 
nobleman's  arms — Try.  Or,  if  this  be  too 
concise,  I  will  subjoin,  with  a  very  little  al- 
teration, the  words  of  a  king ;  "  When  yoti 
have  attained  what  you  pursue,  bring  me 
word  again,  that  I  may  go  and  possess  it 
also,"  Matth.  ii.  8. 

Titer.  According  to  your  account,  the 
most  advanced  and  established  Christians 
are  but  like  a  company  of  invalids.  Does 
not  this  extremely  derogate  from  the  honour 
of  our  Lord,  considered  as  the  i'hysician  of 
souls  ?  It  seems  to  make  a  mere  nothing  of 
sanctification,  and  would  swallow  U])  Christ 
the  King  in  Christ  the  Priest. 

Asp.  Invalids  they  are  ;*  and  such  will 
continue  till  they  are  dismissed  fiom  this 
great  infirmary,  and  admitted  into  that  holy, 
happy,  blessed  world,  where  "  the  irdiabi- 
tants  shall  no  more  say,  I  am,  either  in  soul 
or  in  body,  sick."  Isa.  xxxiii.  24. 

If  the  cure  was  never  to  be  comi)leted, 
this  doubtless  would  be  dishonourable  to 
our  almighty  Physician.  But  the  spiritual 
recovery,  begun  on  earth,  and  advancing 
through  time,  will  be  perfected  in  heaven, 
and  prolonged  to  eternity.  Does  this  make 
a  mere  nothuig  of  sanctification  ?  No  ;  but 
it  makes  room  for  a  continual  progress,  and 
affords  cause  for  continual  humiliation.  It 
reserves  a  most  exalted  prerogative  for  the 
heavenly  state  and  beatific  vision  ;  and  per- 
petually reminds  us  of  a  most  important 
truth, — That  our  present  blessedness  con- 
sists, not  in  being  free  from  all  sin,  but  in 
having  no  sin  imputed  to  us.  Psalm  xxxii.  2. 

This  imperfection  of  our  obedience,  in- 
stead of  confounding,  maintains  a  proper 
distinction  between  Christ  the  King,  and 
Christ  the  Priest :  whereas,  if  we  were  pei- 
fect  in  piety,  the  priestly  ofiice,  with  regard 
to  us,  would  be  superseded.  What  need  of 
an  intercessor  to  recommend  our  prayers  ? 
what  occasion  for  an  high  priest  to  "  bear 


*  Not  the  best  of  men  lament  their  ignorance  of 
the  divine  perfections,  their  slowness  of  heart  to  be- 
lieve the  divine  promises,  an<l  the  languor  of  their 
gratitude  for  inestimable,  for  innumerable  gifi^of  llic 
divine  goodness.  Do  they  not  fieiiiicntly  feci  dead- 
ne^s  in  their  ilevotions,  disorder  in  their  afl'cctions, 
and  various  other  relics  of  the  original  leaven  ? — Do 
they  not  often  complain,  in  the  language  of  the  apos- 
tle, "  When  I  would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with 
me:  And  say  with  theearliest  Christians,  "  We  that 
arc  in  this  tabernacle  do  gro.an,  being  burdened ;" 
burdened,  not  so  much  with  affliction — those  heroes 
in  Christianity  had  learned  to  rejoice  in  tribulation — 
but  burdened  with  a  sense  of  their  spiritual  infirmi- 
ties, and  with  the  workings  of  their  inbred  cornijition  ; 
which,  to  a  tender  and  lively  believer,  arc  the  heavi- 
est of  crosses,  and  the  most  galling  of  loads.  Nay,  do 
not  the  heirs  of  glory  wash  their  very  robes,  "even 
their  fairest  deeds  and  their  brightest  graces,  in  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb?  which,  if  they  were  fiee  from 
spot,  and  void  of  impurity,  need  not  be  made  white 
in  this  sacred  fountain.  .See  2  Cor.  v.  4  ;  llbV.  vii.  14. 


8 12 


THERON  AND   ASPASIO 


the  iniquity  of  our  holy  thinpfs  ?"*  if  some 
taint  of  the  original  leaven  did  not  pollute 
our  best  services  ? 

Neither  does  this  detract  from  the  wis- 
dom, from  the  goodness,  or  from  the  power 
of  Christ.  It  rather  administers  to  the  ad- 
vantageous display  of  all  these  divine  attri- 
butes :  Of  his  wisdom,  in  conducting  the  af- 
fairs of  his  church  with  such  exact  propriety, 
that  the  righteousness  of  faith  may  have  its 
due  honour,  and  the  sanctification  of  the 
Spirit  its  proper  esteem  :  Of  his  goodness, 
in  carrying  on  the  work  of  grace  amidst  so 
much  infirmity,  and  so  many  corruptions  ; 
and  in  crowning,  with  consummate  happi- 
ness, such  frail  undeserving  creatures  :  Of 
his  power,  in  extracting  a  variety  of  benefits 
even  from — 

Ther.  Benefits,  Aspasio !  Can  any  thing 
beneficial  proceed  from  an  evil,  which,  ac- 
cording to  your  own  representation,  is  so 
incorrigibly  mrJignant  ? 

Asp.  It  will  tend  to  make  us  lowly  in  our 
own  eyes,  when  we  remember  that  by  na- 
ture we  are  altogether  become  abominable  ; 
that  the  remains  of  natural  depravity  still 
adhere  to  our  minds.  Hovv  must  such  a 
view  of  ourselves  cover  us  with  shame,  and 
lay  us  low  in  abasement !  "  Less  than  the 
least  of  all  thy  mercies '"  Gen.  xxxii.  10, 
will  be  the  language  of  such  a  one's  very 
soul. 

it  will  dispose  us  to  comnass'onate  others 
How  can  we  take  a  brother  by  tie  throat, 
and  require  faultless  perfection  in  his  beha- 
viour, when  we  ourselves  in  many  things 
offend,  in  all  things  fall  short )  Every  such 
consideration  rebukes  what  I  may  call  spi-- 
ritual  unmercifulness :  it  pleads  for  tender- 
ness and  forbearance  to  our  fellow- creatures; 
it  is  a  monitor  within,  and  whispers  that  af- 
fecting remonstrance,  "  Oughtest  not  thou 
to  have  compassion  upon  thy  fellow-servant, 
smce  thy  almighty  Lord  hath''  such  renewed, 
such  unwearied  "  pity  on  thee."  Matth. 
xviii.  33. 

It  will  teach  us  to  admire  the  riches  of 
grace.  Shall  fallen  creatures,  that  are  taken 
from  the  very  dunghills  of  sin,  and  rescued 
from  a  hell  of  inward  iniquity — shall  tliey, 
notwithstanding  their  deplorable  depravity, 
and  innumerable  deficiencies — shall  they  be 
admitted  into  the  bosom  of  eiernal  love  ? 
they  be  exalted  to  the  thrones  of  glory,  and 
numbered  with  the  princes  of  heaven  i  This 
IS  grace,  transcendently  rich,  and  divinely  ! 
free  indeed  !  I 

Will  it  not  reconcile  us  to  the  approach  I 
of  death  ?  This,  methinks,  like  worinwood  I 
on  the  nipple,  or  gall  in  the  cu|),  must  tend  I 
to  wean  us  from  the  world.  How  cari  we  I 
be  enamoured  with  such  a  land  of  darkness,  i 


Exod.  xxviii.  3S. 
janclissima:  cu;tei(j(H 

lUllt." 


'  Id  est,  ex))iare  peccata,  quibus 

uin   aciiunub  iiosirjc    iii(;'ii:i.itae 
WiTS.  de  (Kuvn. 


and  such  a  vale  of  tears  ?  Or  why  should 
we  covet,  when  Providence  gives  the  signal 
for  our  departure,  to  prolong  our  abode  in 
these  territories  of  disorder  ?  Surely  this 
must  incline  us  to  leave  them,  every  day, 
more  and  more  in  our  affections  ;  and  at 
last  to  leave  them,  without  any  reluctance, 
by  final  dissolution  :  leave  them  for  that 
better  country,  where  our  personal  righte- 
ousness will  no  longer  be  defective,  like  the 
waning  moon,  but  shine  forth  with  consum- 
mate lustre,  like  the  meridian  sun,  in  the 
kingdom  of  our  Father. 

It  will  endear  the  blessed  Jesus  in  every 
capacity ;  oe  the  stings  of  the  fiery  flying 
serpents,  and  the  dearth  of  the  waste  howl- 
ing wilderness,  endeared  to  the  Israelites 
both  their  miraculous  antidote,  and  their 
bread  from  heaven.  They  who  believe  this 
truth,  must  see  their  inexpressible  and  in- 
cessant need  of  Christ's  Spirit.  The  pro- 
testation of  Moses,  on  a  particular  occasion, 
will  be  the  daily,  the  hourly  breathing  of 
their  souls  :  "  Carry  us  not  up  hence,  un- 
less thy  presence,  thy  Spirit,  gc  with  us." 
Exod.  xxxiii-  15.  For  without  his  aid,  we 
can  discharge  no  duty  aright,  nor  success- 
fully resist  any  temptation.  They  will  be 
exceedingly  cautious  not  to  "grieve"  (Eph. 
iv.  30)  that  sacred  guest,  lest  ht  depart  from 
them,  and  abandon  them  to  the  power  of 
their  lurking  corruptions  ;  knowing  that  if 
he  abandon  them,  when  sunh  foes  are  with- 
in, and  so  many  snares  without,  their  case 
will  be  worse  than  Samson's,  when  his  locks 
were  shaven,  and  the  Philistines  all  around 
him. 

How  highly  will  such  persons  value  the 
blood  of  the  covenant,  and  the  intercession 
of  their  great  High  Priest !  They  will  no 
more  presume  to  enter  into  the  presence  of 
the  most  high  God,  without  a  fiducial  reli- 
ance upon  the  atoning  and  interceding  Savi- 
our, than  the  sons  of  Jacob  would  have  ven- 
tured to  appear  before  the  viceroy  of  Egypt, 
without  the  company  of  their  younger  bro- 
ther. Gen.  xliii.  5.  In  all,  in  all  their  inter- 
course with  heaven,  the  great  Propitiation 
will  be  their  plea,  and  the  great  Advocate 
their  confidence.  The  impotent  man  waited 
at  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  and  the  Syrian  ge- 
neral dipped  seven  times  in  .loidHU.  These 
persons  will  not  only  w3it,  but  l;*-e  by  the 
'•  fountain  opened  for  sin  and  imcieaiuiess." 
Zech.  xiii.  I.  They  will  wash  in  the  sacred 
sanctitymg  strea-n,  not  seven  times  only,  but 
seventy  times  seven. 

And  when  such  sentiments  possess  the 
mind,  how  dear  !  ()  how  dear  and  desira- 
ble Will  our  Lord's  obedience  be  !  I  called, 
some  time  ago.  our  own  v\'0!ks  worm-eaten 
things  :  and  must  not  these  corruptions,  if 
they  remain  ever  so  little  in  the  heart,  tar- 
ni-ih  our  <_'races.  and  debase  onr  duties? 
Must  they  n;jt  be  depreciatory  to  all  our  ac 


DIALOGUE   XI V^, 


sr 


complislimeiits,  and  too  miirli  like  conodiiip 
ve.miii  in  the  substance  of  our  timber,  or  at 
tlie  core  of  our  fruits  ? — Should  we  not  then 
renounce,  utterly  renounce,  these  tarnished 
worm-eaten  things,  and  rely,  wholly  rely,  for 
everlasting  acceptance,  on  our  divine  High 
Priest,  v\ho,  in  his  mediatorial  woiks,  as 
well  as  in  his  wonderful  person,  is  altogether 
light  and  perfection  ?*  and  neither  in  him 
nor  in  them  is  there  any  deficiency  or  any 
darkness  at  all. 

Excuse  me,  Theron  ;  I  fear  I  have  been 
preaching.  The  importance  of  the  text 
must  form  my  apology.  It  is  an  introduc- 
tion, not  to  the  records  of  history,  or  the 
transactions  of  philosophy,  but  to  the  riches 
of  Christ. 

Ther.  If  my  Aspasio  has  been  preaching, 
1  can  assure  liim  for  his  con. fort,  thai  his 
audience  has  been  very  attentive  ;  and 
though  the  sermon  was  somewhat  cujiious, 
the  hearer  neither  slept  nor  gaped.  How- 
ever, I  should  be  glad  to  have  the  whole  re- 
viewed and  summed  up,  that  if  it  has  been 
large  as  the  pyramid,  it  may,  like  the  pyra- 
mid, terminate  in  a  point. 

Asp-  This  then  is  the  state  of  our  nature. 
The  image  of  the  Creator  is  lost ;  blindness 
IS  in  the  understanding  ;  disorder  in  all  the 
affections.  —  In  the  will,  enmity  against  God, 
the  sovereign  good  ;  inability  to  all  that  is 
s])iritual  and  heavenly;  with  a  propensity  to 
whatever  is  sordid  and  earthly.  'I'he  whole 
soul  is  deformed,  distempered,  rtbellious. 
And  shall  such  a  creature  lay  claim  to  those 
amiable  and  sacred  endowments,  which  may 
be  a  proper  recommendation  to  infinite  holi- 
ness? Is  such  a  creature  qualified  to  per- 
form these  righteous  acts,  which  may  ap- 
prove themselves  to  the  demand  of  God's  | 
law,  and  to  the  inflexibility  of  his  justice.'' 

Should  he  conceive  the  vain  hope,  or 
make  the  vainer  attempt,  I  would  now  ad- 
dress him  as  Jehoash  formerly  answered 
Amaziah.  Amaziah  king  of  Judah,  elated 
with  the  little  victories  he  had  obtained  over 
the  Edomites,  began  to  fancy  himself  in- 
vincilile.  Prompted  by  this  foolish  imagin- 
ation, he  challenges  Jehoash  king  of  Israel  to 
meet  him  in  a  pitched  battle,  and  receives 
this  ironical  apologue  by  way  of  reply,  which, 
for  gallantry  of  spirit  and  delicacy  of  wit,  for 


poignancy  of  satire  and  propriety  of  applica- 
tion, has  seldom  been  equalled,  perhaps 
never  exceeded  :  "  The  thistle  that  was  in 
Lebanon,  sent  to  the  cedar  that  was  in  Le- 
baiion,  saying,  Give  thy  daughter  to  my 
son  to  wife  ;  and  there  pav^ed  by  a  wild 
beast  that  was  in  Lebanon,  ai;d  trod  dovi-n 
the  thistle."  2  Kings  xiv.  9.  What  are  we, 
when  we  offer  to  establish  our  own  righte- 
ousness, or  presume  to  justify  ourselves  be- 
fore the  most  high  G;  d,  but  despicable 
thistles,  that  fancy  themselves  stately  cedars. 
And  is  not  every  temptation,  is  not  each 
corruption,  a  wild  beast  of  the  desert,  which 
will  trample  on  the  im])otent  boaster,  and 
tread  his  haughty  pretensions  in  the  dust  ? 


*  Light  and  perfedlion. — This  is  the  meaning  of 
that  mysterious  ornament,  which,  in  the  grand  oilici- 
atinc  robes  of  the  Jewish  high  priest,  was  annexed  to 
the  oreast-plate,  and  styled  Uriin  and  Thummim; 
only  the  Hebrew  words  are  in  the  phiral  nuinl)er,  and 
denote  every  degree  of  illumination,  and  all  kinds  of 
perfection. — Does  not  this  very  significantly  learh 
sinners  whence  to  seek  their  wisdom,  and  where  to 
look  for  their  perfection  ?  There  never  was,  in  all 
ages,  more  than  one  Uriin  and  Thummim,  and  only 
one  person  in  each  generation  %vas  appointed  to  wear 
it.  And  who  is  there,  in  all  worlds,  that  can  give  us 
heavenly  knowledge,  but  the  Spirit  of  Christ  ?  What 
is  there  in  ourselves,  or  all  creatures,  that  can  present 
us  unblamable  before  God,  but  the  obedience  of 
Christ ' 


DIALOGUE  .\IV. 

Aspasio  was  employed  in  preparing  for 
his  journey.  Theron,  free  from  business, 
and  disengaged  from  company,  had  the  great- 
est part  of  the  day  to  himself,  which  he 
spent  in  reviewing  the  substance  of  their  late 
conferences,  not  without  intermingliBg  aspir- 
ations to  God  for  the  guidance  of  his  divine 
Spirit. 

At  evening  he  went,  like  the  patriarch  of 
old,  "  into  the  field  to  meditate,''  Gen.  xxiv. 
63,  amidst  the  calm  of  nature  to  meditate 
on  the  grace  of  the  gosjitl.  The  sky  was 
peculiarly  beautiful,  and  perfectly  clear;  only 
where  the  fine  indigo  received  an  agrcealile 
heightening  by  a  few  thin  and  scattered 
clouds,  which  imbibed  the  sular  lays,  and 
looked  like  pensile  fleeces  of  purest  wool. 
All  things  appeared  with  so  mild,  so  majes- 
tic, so  charming  an  aspect,  that,  intent  as 
he  was  upon  a  different  subject,  he  could 
not  but  indulge  the  following  soliloquy. 

"  How  delightful  are  the  scenes  of  rural 
nature  !  especially  to  the  philosophic  eye, 
and  contemplative  mind.  I  cannot  wonder 
that  persons  in  high  life  are  so  fond  of  re- 
liniig  from  a  conspicuous  and  exalted  .sta- 
tion, to  the  covert  of  a  shady  grove,  or  the 
margin  of  a  cooling  stream  ;  are  so  desirous 
of  quitting  the  smoky  town  and  noisy  street, 
in  order  to  breathe  purer  air,  and  survey  the 
wonders  of  creation,  in  the  silent,  the  serene, 
the  peaceful  villa. 

"  It  is  true,  in  the  country  there  are  none 
of  the  modish,  I  had  almost  said,  meretri- 
cious ornaments  of  that  false  politeness, 
which  refines  people  out  of  their  veracity; 
but  an  easy  simplicity  of  manners,  with  an 
unaffected  sincerity  of  mind.  Here  the  so- 
lemn farce  of  ceremony  is  seldom  brought 
into  play,  and  the  pleasing  delusions  of 
compliment  have  no  place-  But  the  brow 
is  the  real  index  of  the  temper,  and  speech 
the  genuine  interpreter  of  the  heart. 

"  In  the  country.  1  acknowledge,  we  are 


814  THERON  AN 

seldom  invited  to  see  tl>e  mimic  at  tern  pis  of 
liuman  art:     But  we    everywiiere,  l)chold 
the  grand  and  masterly  exertions  of  divine 
power.     No  theatre  erects  its  narrow  stage, 
surrounds  it  with  puny  rows  of  ascending 
seatB,  or  adorns  it  with  a  shifting  series  of  gor . 
geous  scenery:  But  fields  extend  their  ample 
area,   at  first  lightly  clad  with  a  scarf  of 
springing  green,  then  deeply  planted  with  an 
arrangement  of  spindling  stalks  ;    as  a  few 
more  weeks  advance,  covered  with  a  profu- 
sion of  bearded  or  husky  grain;    at   last, 
richly  laden  with  a  harvest  of  yellow  i)!enty. 
"Meadows    disclose  their  beautiful  bo- 
som ;    yield  a  soft  and  fertile  lap  for  the 
luxuriant  herbage,  and  suckle  myriads  of  the 
fairest,  gayest  flowers  ;  which,  without  any 
vain  ostentation,  or  expensive  finery,  outvie 
each    other  in  all  the   elegance   of  dress. 
Groves  of  various  leaf,  arrayed  in  freshest 
verdure,  and  liberal  of  their  reviving  shade, 
rise  in  amiable,  in  noble  prospect  all  around. 
Droves    of  sturdy  oxen,  strong  for  labour, 
or  fat  for    the  shambles;  herds  of  sleeky 
kine  with  milk  in  their  udders,  and  violets 
in  their  nostrils;  flocks  of  well  fleeced  sheep, 
with  their  snowy  lambkins,  frisking  at  their 
side — these  compose  the  living  machinery. 
Boundless  tracts  of  bending  azure,  varnish- 
ed with  inimitable  delicacy,  and  hung  with 
starry  lamps  or  irradiated  with  solar  lustre, 
from    the   stately  ceiling ;   while  the  early 
breezes,  and  the  evening  gales,  charged  with 
no  unwholesome  vapours,  breeding  no  pes- 
tilential taint,  but  fanning  the  humid  buds, 
and  waving  their  odoriferous  wings,  dispense 
a  thousand  sweets,  mingled  with  the  most 
sovereign  supports  of  health.     And  is  not 
this   school  of  industry,  this  magazine    of 
plenty,    incomparably   more   delightful,    as 
well  as  infinitely  less  dangerous,  than  those 
gaudy    temples    of    profuseness    and    de- 
bauchery, where  sin  and  ruin  wear  the  mask 
of  pleasure,  where  Belial  is  daily  or  nightly 
worshipped  with  what  his  votaries  call  mo- 
dish recreation,  and  genteel  amusement  ? 

"  Here  indeed  is  no  tuneful  voice  to  melt 
in  strains  of  amorous  anguish,  and  transfuse 
the  sickening  fondness  to  the  hearer's  breast: 
No  skilful  arrist,  to  inform  the  lute  with 
musical  enchantment,  to  strike  infectious 
melody  from  the  viol,  and  sooth  aw^ay  the 
resolution  and  activity  of_  virtue  in  wan- 
ton desires  or  voluptuous  indolence.  But 
the  plains  bleat,  the  mountains  low,  and  the 
hollow  circling  rocks  echo  with  the  univer- 
sal song.  Every  valley  re-murmurs  to  the 
fall  of  silver  fountains,  or  the  liquid  lapse  of 
gurgling  rills.  Birds,  musicians  ever  beau- 
teous, ever  gay,  perched  on  a  thousand 
boughs,  play  a  thousand  sprightly  and  har- 
monious airs. 

•'  Charmed,  therefore,  with  the  fi.nest 
views,  lulled  with  the  softest  sounds,  and 
treated  with  the  richest  odours,  what  can 


D  ASPvVSIO. 

be  wanting  to  complete  the  delight .'  Here 
is  every  entertainment  for  the  eye,  the  most 
refined  gratifications  for  the  ear,  and  a  per- 
petual banquet  for  the  smell,  without  any  in- 
sidious decoy,  for  the  integrity  of  our  con- 
duct, or  even  for  the  purity  of  our  fancy. 

"  O  ye  blooming  walks  and  flowery  lawns, 
surrounded  with  dewy  landscapes  !  how  of- 
ten have  patriots  and  heroes  laid  aside  the 
burden  of  power,  and  stole  away  from  the 
glare  of  grandeur,  to  enjoy  themselves  in 
your  composed  retreats  !*  Ye  mossy  couch- 
es, and  fragrant  bowers,  skirted  with  cool- 
ing cascades  !  how  many  illustrious  person- 
ages, after  all  their  glorious  toil  for  the  pub- 
lic good,  have  sought  an  honourable  and 
welcome  repose  in  your  downy  lap  ?f  Ye 
venerable  oaks  and  solemn  groves ;  woods 
that  whisper  to  the  quivering  gale,  cliffs  that 
overhang  the  darkened  flood !  who  can  num- 
ber the  sages  and  saints,  that  have  devoted 
the  day  to  study,  or  resigned  a  vacant  hour 
to  healthy  exercise,  beneath  your  sylvan  por- 
ticoes and  waving  arches  ?  that,  far  from  the 
dull  impertinence  of  man,  have  listened  to 
the  instructive  voice  of  God,  and  contem- 
plated the  works  of  his  adorable  hand  amidst 
your  moss-grown  cells  and  rocky  shades  ? 
How  inelegant,  or  how  insensible  is  the 
mind,  which  has  no  awakened  lively  relish 
for  these  sweet  recesses,  and  their  exquisite 
beauties !" 

But  whither  am  I  carried  ?  Is  not  this 
rural  enthusiasm  ?  I  find  myself  talking  to 
trees,  and  forget  the  momentous  question, 
which  waits  for  our  decision.  Here,  then, 
let  my  rhapsody  end,  and  my  inquiry  pro- 
ceed  Does  it  betray  a  want  of  true  deli- 
cacy, to  be  insensible  of  nature's  charms  ? 
My  Aspasio  thinks,  it  argues  as  wrong  a 
taste  in  practical  divinity,  not  to  acquiesce 
in  the  imputed  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ. 
To  this  doctrine  I  have  been  always  ex- 
tremely averse.  I  set  myself  to  oppose  it 
with  objections,  drawn  from  the  reason  of 
things,  and  from  various  passages  of  scrip- 
ture ;  to  all  which  my  friend  replied.  And 
though  I  was  scarcely  convinced,  yet  I  was 
silenced  by  his  answers. 

I  pleaded  for  the  insufficiency  of  our  sin- 
cere obedience,  especially  when  accompa- 
nied with  repentance,  and  recommended  by 
the  merits  of  Christ.  Neither  was  this  at- 
tempt successful :  His  arguments,  some- 
what like  the  flaming  sword  planted  at  the 
entrance  of  paradise,  "  turned  every  way  ;" 
Gen.  iii.  24 ;  and  precluded  all  access  to 
life  on  the  foot  of  our  own  duty. 


»  "  Mihi  me  reddentis  agelli,"— says  Ho- 
race of  his  little  country-seat. 

t  Virgil  was  so  smitten  with  the  amiableness  of 
these  scenes,  that  he  assigns  them  as  an  habitation  for 
happy  spirits,  in  the  regions  of  Ely»ium. 

. "  Lucis  habitamus  opacis, 

Riparumque  toros,  et  prata  reccntia  rivis 
Incolimns." 


DIALOGUE   XiV. 


31 5 


I  At  lejigth,  Aspasio  quittud  the  defensive, 
and  attacked  me  in  his  turn.  He  explained 
the  precepts,  and  enforced  the  threatenings 
of  the  divine  law.  So  exact  its  tenor,  that 
it  demands  a  perfect  and  persevering  confor- 
mity to  every  injunction.  So  extensive  its 
authority,  that  it  reaches  the  iimiost  tiunights, 
and  requires  obedience,  not  barely  in  the  ac- 
tions of  life,  but  the  very  intentions  of  the 
heart.  So  inexorable  its  severity,  that  it 
condemns  every  the  smallest  olfence,  and 
curses  every  the  least  oll'ender. 

This  remonhtranceiiad  some  of  the  terror, 
and  almost  all  the  efl'ect  of  a  masked  bat- 
tery. It  was  quite  unexpected,  and  alarm- 
ed me  considerably.  To  push  his  advan- 
tage, he  enlarged  upon  the  infinite  purity  of 
God :  A  God,  glorious  in  holiness,  who 
cannot  look  upon  evil  with  any  connivance, 
or  without  the  utmost  abhorrence  ;  before 
whom  the  heavens  are  unclean,  and  who 
will  in  no  wise  clear  the  guilty. 

To  complete  his  victory,  he  played  off  the 
doctrine  of  original  guilt,  and  original  de- 
pravity :  That,  besides  the  imputation  of 
Adam's  apostacy,  besides  the  commission 
of  numberless  iniquities,  we  were  born  in 
sin ;  are,  by  nature,  enmity  against  God  ;  in 
all  our  faculties  'corrupt ;  in  eveiy  imagina 
tion  evil ;  and,  even  when  renewed*  by  grace, 
are  still,  still  tainted  with  some  base  remains 
of  the  old  leprosy. 

After  all,  he  bid  me  consider — what 
fruits  must  spring  from  such  a  nature?  how 
they  must  appear  when  compared  with  such 
a  law  ?  wh;it  they  must  deserve  when  tried 
before  such  a  God  ?  These,  I  must  con- 
fess, are  very  weighty  and  startling  queries. 
If  these  representations  are  true,  the  face  of 
human  affairs  carries  a  most  gloomy  aspect; 
or  rathei",  a  most  dreadful  storm  is  hanging 
over  the  children  of  men.  Aspasio  urges 
me  to  lly,  with^-ut  any  delay,  to  the  covert 
of  Cin-ist's  meritorious  obedience.  This,  he 
says,  was  wrought  out  in  my  name,  and  in 
my  stead;  this  will  be  admitted  both  at  the 
throne  of  grace,  and  the  bar  of  judgment,  as 
my  justifying  righteousness. 

This,  he  adds,  opens  a  way,  on  God's  part, 
fur  the  largest  emanations,  and  most  honour- 
able exercise  of  mercy.  On  man's  part,  it 
fonntis  a  title  to  pardon,  to  life  and  every 
spiritual  blessing.     This  doctrine,  especially 


*  "  Even  when  renewed." — For  a  display  of  this  im- 
portant truth,  and  a  remedy  against  this  stubborn  evil, 
let  me  refer  the  reader  to  a  little  treatise  published  by 
Dr.  Owen,  and  entitled,  "  The  Nature,  Power,  Deceit, 
and  I'revalencyof  the  Remainders  of  Indewelling  Sin 
in  rielievers."  The  author's  pen  is  indeed  a  dissecting 
knife,  poes  deep  into  this  subject,  and  lays  open  this 
plngiie  of  llic  heart.  Like  a  workman  that  need  not 
be.'shanipd,  he  demonstrates  his  point,  from  the  un- 
crrini;  word  of  God,  ind  the  acknowledged  experience 
of  Christians.  Like  a  compassionate  as  well  as  able 
physician,  he  all  alone  prescribes  the  proper  antidote; 
nay,  he  shows  how  the  poison  may  be  so  over-ru'ed  by 
ilivinc  grace,  and  so  maniged  by  the  watchful  patient, 
as  to  become  medicinal,  salutary,  and  coiulucivc  to 
llie  most  bcnelicial  purposes. 


in  such  a  connexion,  begins  to  put  on  a 
more  recommending  appearance.  My  pre- 
judices are  really  wearing  away.  I  am  al- 
most a  convert. 

Aspasio  overheard  the  close  of  these  reflec- 
tions. Unwilling  to  interrupt  his  friend  in 
so  serious  an  inquiry,  and  desirous  to  observe 
the  issue  of  so  interesting  a  debate,  he  had 
hitherto  concealed  himself.  But,  thinking 
this  a  favourable  minute,  he  stepped  forward 
and  said, — 

Asp.  Almost !  and  why  not  altogether  a 
convert?  What  should  hinder  my  dear  The- 
ron  from  submitting  to  so  rational  a  scheme, 
with  the  most  entire  acquiescence  ?  What 
should  hinder  him  from  embracing  so  com« 
fortable  a  doctrine  with  the  utmost  compla- 
cency ?  Why  should  he  not  subscribe,  both 
with  hand  and  heart,  that  divine  decree? 
"  Their  righteousness  is  of  me,  saith  the 
Lord,"  (Isa  liv.  17.) 

Tker.  If,  by  this  doctrine,  the  claims  of 
the  law  are  answered — if  the  perfections  of 
God  are  glorified — if  the  interests  of  morali- 
ty are  secured — I  must  acknowledge,  it  will 
be  more  worthy  of  acceptance  than  I  could 
once  have  imagined. 

Af:p.  And  if  these  points  are  not 
gained,  gained  too  in  the  most  eminent 
manner,  1  solemnly  declare,  that  I  will 
never  plead  for  imputed  righteousness  more. 
But  the  claims  of  the  law  are  all  answer- 
ed :  For  there  is  nothing  in  its  sacred  in- 
junctions, which  Christ  did  not  perform ; 
and  nothing  in  its  awfid  threatenings  which 
Christ  did  not  sustain.  He  fulfilled  all  its 
precepts,  by  an  unspotted  purity  of  heart,  and 
the  most  perfect  integrity  of  life.  He  ex- 
hausted its  whole  curse,  when  he  hung  upon 
the  cross,  abandoned  by  his  Father,  and  a 
bleedingvictim  for  the  sinsofhis  people.  This 
obedience  brings  higher  honour  to  the  divine 
law,  than  it  could  have  received  from  the  un- 
interrupted duty  of  Adam,  and  all  his  poste- 
rity in  all  their  generations. 

The  perfections  of  God  which  were  dis- 
honoured by  our  rebellion,  are  glorified.  He 
appears,  by  this  method  of  justification,  in- 
conceivably rich  in  showing  mercy,  yet 
steady,  inflexibly  steady,  in  executing  ven- 
geance- The  sceptre  of  grace,  and  the  sword 
of  justice,  have  each  its  due  exercise,  each 
its  full  scope.  The  holiness  of  the  divine 
nature,  and  the  dignity  of  the  divine  go- 
vernment, are  not  only  maintained,  but 
most  magnificently  displayed.  Indeed  it  is 
the  peculiar  excellence  of  this  wonderful  ex- 
pedient, that  it  renders  all  the  divine  attri- 
butes supremely  venerable,  and  supremely 
amiable. 

Ther.  But  are  the  interests  of  morality 
secured? — This  is  what  I  am  strongly  in- 
clined to  doubt.  "And,  to  say  the  truth, 
this  is  ii;)w  my  principal  objection  to  your 
scheme. 


316 


THERON   AND  ASPASIO. 


^xp-  I  shall  never  Itlame  my  friend  for  be- 
ing vigilant  and  jealous  over  the  interests  of 
morality.  If  our  doctrine  had  a  malignant 
aspect  on  true  morality,  I  would  give  my 
voice  against  it,  and  use  all  my  endeavours 
to  suppress  it :  But  it  is  formed  with  every 
tendency  to  awaken  tlie  utmost  dread  of  sin, 
and  affect  us  with  the  warmest  sense  of  our 
Creator's  love.  And  is  not  that  the  strong- 
est barrier  against  the  encroachments  of  vice? 
Is  not  this  the  sweetest  inducement  to  the 
practice  of  virtue  ? 

1  am  glad  to  find,  that  a  jealousy  for  the 
interests  of  morality  is  the  chief  obstacle  in 
the  way  of  your  assent ;  because  I  am  per- 
suaded, it  is  much  of  the  same  nature  with 
those  forbidding  and  mistaken  apprehensions 
\>hich  our  ancestors  entertained  concerning 
the  ocean.  They  looked  upon  it  as  an  un- 
surmountable  obstruction  to  universal  so- 
ciety :  whereas  it  is,  in  fact,  the  very  cement 
of  society;  the  only  means  of  accomplishing 
a  general  intercourse,  and  the  great  highway 
to  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  What  is 
here  affirmed  may,  on  some  future  occasion, 
be  proved.  At  present  let  me  desire  you 
to  imagine,  rather  may  the  blessed  Spirit 
enable  you  to  believe,  that  your  sins  are  ex- 
piated through  the  death  of  Jesus  Christ — 
that  a  righteousness  is  given  you,  by  virtue 
of  which  you   may  have  free  and  welcome 


one  principle  of  piety,  adds  to  every  other 
motive,  the  endearing  engagements  of  gra- 
titude and  the  winning  persuasives  of  love. 

Nay,  I  verily  believe,  that  multitudes  in 
the  gay  and  licentious  world  are  held  fast 
in  the  fatal  snare,  by  their  ignorance  of  this 
sweet,  alluring,  consolatory  truth.  They 
find  themselves  deeply  obnoxious  to  divine 
justice,  and  feel  themselves  strongly  bound 
with  the  chains  of  sensuality.  They  think 
it  is  impossible  to  clear  the  enormous  score 
of  their  guilt ;  impossible  to  deliver  them- 
selves from  the  confirmed  dominion  of  sin  ; 
Therefore,  like  desperate  debtors,  they  *ii(li' 
every  serious  thought ;  lest  a  consciousness 
of  their  long  arrears,  and  a  prospect  of  the 
dreadful  reckoning,  should  "  torment  them 
before  the  time."     Matt.  viii.  29. 

But  if  they  were  informed,  that  the  in- 
finitely-merciful Son  of  God  has  undertaken 
to  redeem  such  undone  and  helpless  sinners  ; 
that  he  has  thoroughly  expiated  the  most 
horrid  transgressions,  and  procured,  even 
for  ungodly  wretches,  all  the  needful  supplies 
of  strengthening  grace  ;  that,  instead  of  be- 
ing prohibited,  they  are  invited  to  partake, 
freely  to  partake,  of  these  unspeakable  bless- 
ings ;  were  they  acquainted  with  these  glnd 
tidings  of  the  gospel,  surely  they  v.'ould  burst 
their  chains,  and  spiing  to  liberty.  These 
truths,    if   once    revealed    in    t'.eir  hearts, 


access  to  God,  the  merit  of  which  you  may   would,  of  all  considerations,  be   most  effec- 


plead  for  obtaining  all  the  blessings  of  time 
and  eternity.  Then  let  me  ask,  will  this  alie- 
nate your  affections  from  your  Almighty 
Benefactor?  will  this  irritate  evil  concupis- 
cence, or  send  you  to  carnal  gratifications  in 
quest  of  happiness.  Quite  the  reverse- 
When  this  faith  is  wrought  in  your  heart, 
nothing  will  be  so  powerful  to  produce  holy 
love  and  wilhng  obedience,  to  exalt  your 
desires  and  enable  you  to  overcome  the  world. 
What  says  the  apostle  ?  "  I  through  the 
law  am  dead  lo  the  law.  Gal.  ii.  29.  Be- 
ing made  to  understand  its  spirituality  and 
perfection,  I  have  no  longer  any  hope  of 
justification  from  my  own  conformity  to  its 
precepts.  Did  this  prompt  him,  did  this 
embolden  him  to  neglect  or  violate  his  duty? 
Hear  the  sacred  writer's  own  declaration  ; — 
I  am  released  from  the  rigour  and  bondage 
of  the  law;  I  am  directed  to  Christ  for 
righteousness  and  salvation  ;  "  that  I  may 
live  unto  God  ;"  that  my  whole  life  may  be 
devoted  to  his  honour,  who  has  brought  me 
into  a  state  so  delightful,  into  a  liberty  so 
glorious. 

Ther.  This  liberty,  I  am  afraid,  will  be 
of  very  little  service  to  the  licentious  and 
gay  world 

Asp.  I  shall  be  in  no  pain  even  for  the 
gay  world,  if  once  they  cordially  receive  this 
grace,  and  are  vitally  influenced  by  this  doc- 
trine ;  which,  far  from  dissolving  the  least 
obligation  to  obedience,  or  weakening  any 


tual  to  "make  them  free."  John  viii.  3?. 

What  shall  I  say  more  to  obtain  my 
Theron's  approbation  ?  Shall  I  point  out 
and  plead  the  most  illustrious  precedents  ? 
— God  the  Father  is  well  pleascJ  with  this 
righteousness  of  our  Redeemer.  He  ex- 
presses his  complacency  by  the  most  em- 
phatical  words  :  '*  Behold  my  servant  whom 
I  uphold ;  mine  elect,  in  whom  my  soul 
delighteth."  Isaiah  xlii.  1.  In  Christ  and 
his  righteousness,  God  is  not  only  pleased 
but  "delighted;  his  "very  soul,"  every 
perfection  of  the  Godhead,  with  ineffable 
satisfaction,  rests  and  acquiesces  in  them. -- 
I  said  ineffable;  for  he  has  declared  this,  i:i 
a  manner  superior  to  all  the  energy  of  1h;i- 
guage,  by  raising  our  crucified  Surety  fiorn 
the  dead,  by  exalting  him  to  the  heaven  oi 
heavens,  and  placing  him  at  his  own  ri^-'i!; 
hand  in  glory. 

Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  well  pleased. 
He  esteems  it  his  honour  to  shine  forth  as 
the  everlasting  righteousness  uf  his  peopU  : 
It  is  the  brightest  jewel  of  his  medialoiial 
crown.  In  this  he  ''  sees  of  the  travnil  of  h:s 
soul,  and  is  satisfied  :"  accounting  b  rrs(M 
fully  recompensed  for  all  the  labours  of  hislife, 
and  all  the  sorrows  of  his  death,  when  sin- 
ners are  washed  from  their  guilt  in  his  blood, 
and  presented  faultless  by  his  obedience- 

The  Holy  Spirit  is  equally  pleased  with 
this  great  transaction,  and  its  noble  effc(  ts. 
It  is  liis  peculiar  office,  and  favourite  eiii])K>y, 


DIALOGUE   XIV. 


^n 


to  convince  tlie  world  of  llicir  Saviour's 
righteousness:  not  only  tliat  his  nature  was 
spotlessly  pure,  and  his  conversation  perfect- 
ly holy  ;  but  that  from  l)oth  results  a  rijrhf- 
eousness  of  infinite  dignity  and  everlastingerti 
cacy  ;  sufficient,  throughout  all  ages  suHici 
ent,  for  the  acceptance  and  salvation  of  the 
most  unworthy  creatures. 

Since  then  this  method  of  acceptance  and 
salvation  is  excellent  and  glorious  in  the 
eyes  of  the  most  adorable  Trinity ;  sincr- 
it  magnifies  the  law,  and  yields  the  most 
exalted  honour  to  its  divine  Author  ;  since 
it  makes  ample  provision  for  the  holiness  of 
a  corrupt,  and  the  happiness  of  a  ruined 
world  ;  why  should  my  friend  any  lonprr 
dislike  it,  oppose  it,  or  treat  it  with  a  cold 
inditference  ?  Surely  all  these  grand  recom- 
mendations are  enough  to  overrule  any 
little  objections  which  may  arise  from  the 
siis])icions  of  timidity,  or  may  be  started  by 
the  artifices  of  sophistry. 

T/iir.  I  know  not  how  it  is,  Arpasio ; 
but  1  cannot  reconcile  myself  to  this  doc- 
trine of  imputed  righteousness,  notwith- 
standing all  the  pains  you  have  taken  to 
make  me  a  convert. 

Asp.  The  disappointment  is  mine,  but 
the  loss  is  yours,  Theron.  However,  let 
me  entreat  you  not  to  reject  my  sentiments 
absolutely, nortocondemn them  prematurely. 
Suppose  it  possible,  at  least,  that  they  may 
be  true,  and  weigh  them  in  an  even  balance. 
Learn  wisdom  from  your  Aspasio's  folly. 
I  was  once  exactly  in  your  situation  ;  saw 
things  in  your  light,  and  through  your  me- 
dium. 

Conversing,  I  well  remember,  with  a  de- 
vout, but  plain  person,  our  discourse  hap- 
pened to  turn  upon  that  solemn  admonition; 
"  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him 
deny  himself."  Matth.  xvi.  2i<-  I  was  ha- 
ranguing upon  the  import  and  extent  of  the 
du^y ;  showing,  that  merely  to  forbear  the 
infamous  action,  is  little.  We  must  deny 
admittance,  deny  entertainment  at  least,  to 
the  evil  imagination  ;  and  quench  even  the 
enkindling  spark  of  irregular  desire.  When 
I  had  shot  a  random  bolt,  my  honest  friend 
replied,  "  There  is  another  instance  of  self- 
denial,  to  which  this  injunction  extends, 
and  which  is  of  very  great  moment  in  the 
Christian  religion  :  I  mean,  the  instance 
of  renouncing  our  own  strength,  and  our 
own  righteousness  ;  not  leaning  on  that  for 
holiness,  not  relying  on  this  for  justification." 
I  *hought  the  old  man,  I  must  confess,  lit- 
tle better  than  a  supeistitious  flotard  ;  and 
wondered  at  (what  I  then  fancied)  the  motley 
mixture  of  piety  and  oddity  in  his  notions. 
But  now  I  discern  sense,  solidity,  and  truth 
in  his  observation.*    Now  I  perceive,  that 


we  ourselves  arc  often  the  dreamers,  when 
we  im  igine  others  to  be  fast  asleep. 

Ti'icr-  I  shall  not  forget  your  caution,  and 
will  endeavour  to  avoid  the  rock  on  which 
my  Aspasio  struck,  but  happil)',  it  seems, 
escaped  shipwreck.  You  may  lik(!wise  as- 
sure yourself,  that  upon  a  subject  of  exceed- 
ing great  and  eternal  consequence,  I  shall 
not  fail  to  use  the  most  attentive  and  im- 
partial consideration.  An  indolent  snpine- 
ness  or  a  bigotted  obstinacy,  in  this  great  cri- 
sis of  nfiiiirs,  would  be  of  all  errors  the  most 
inexcusable,  and  must  prove  of  all  miscar- 
riages the  most  fatal. 

Asp.  But  still  you  cannot  reconcile  your- 
self. And  no  wonder.  For  this  way  of 
salvation  runs  directly  coimter  to  the  stream 
of  corrupt  nature.  It  puzzles  our  reason, 
and  offends  our  pride  What?  shall  we 
not  v.'ork,  but  "  believe  unto  righteous- 
ness?" Rom.  X.  10.  Shall  we  receive  all 
freely,  and  reckon  ourselves  no  better  than 
unprofitable  servants  ?  This  is  a  method 
to  which  we  should  never  submit ;  this  is 
a  proposal  which  we  should  always  spurn, 
vve:e  not  our  sentiments  rectified,  and  our 
hearts  new-moulded,  by  sovereign  grace. 

Let  me  remind  you  of  a  little  incident 
which  you  must  have  read  in  the  Grecian 
history.  A  certain  stranger  came,  one  day, 
to  dine  with  some  Lacedemonians.  They, 
you  know,  always  sat  down  at  a  public  ta- 
ble, and  were  content  with  the  plainest  food. 
The  gentleman,  accustomed  to  higher  eating, 
could  not  forbear  ex])ressing  his  disgust  at 


the  homel 


y  provision.     Sir,  said  the   cook. 


Milton  thougUl  the  same,  othervasc  he  would  ne- 


you  do  not  make  use  of  the  sauce.  What 
do  you  mean  ?  replied  the  guest.  You  do 
not  use  hard  exercise  ;  nor  habituate  your- 
self to  long  abstinence,  nor  bring  a  sharpened 
appetite  to  the  meal — And  you,  my  dear 
friend,  lam  apprehensive,  have  not  the  sauce, 
have  not  the  proper  preparative  for  this  salu- 
tary doctrine,  which  is  indeed  the  bread  of 
life,  and  the  very  marrow  of  the  gospel. 

Ther.  What  pre])arative  ? 

A.sp.  A  sense  of  your  great  depravity, 
your  extreme  guilt,  and  your  utterly  undone 
condition. — While  desti'ute  of  these  con- 
victions, our  souls  will  be  like  the  full  sto- 
mach, that  loathes  even  the  honey-comb. 
So  long  as  these  corivictions  arc  slight,  and 
hover  only  in  the  imagination,  we  shall  be 
like  Gallio,*  listless,  indifferent,  and  " 

vor  have  put  those  words  into  the  mouth  of  a  divine 
spe,aker. 

Thy  merit 

Imputed  shall  ab,so!ve  them,  who  renounce 
Their  own,  both  riijhtcous  and  unrighteous,  deeds 
And  live  in  thee  transplanted,  and  from  thee 
Receive  new  life. — Uoufc  iii.  1.  2r,'0. 
»  Acts  xviii.   17.     A  late  commentator,  of  distin- 
Ruished  cmmencc,  lias  attempted  to  vindicate  Gallio's 
conduct:  mul  would  represent  it  as  an  amiable  in- 
stance of  prudence  and  moderation. 

According  to  my  apprehension,  this  IJ  oman  gover- 
nor acted  a  part  both  irrelicious  and  unjust.  Inc/i- 
giout,  beciusc  he  refused  to  hear  the  apostle's  defence,, 


318 


THERON   AND  ASPASIO. 


the  principle  from  which  your  actions  flow  ; 
whether  from  the  steady  habitual  love  of 
God,  or  from  some  rambling  impulse,  and 
a  customary  propensity  to  please  yourself. 
Minute  down  your  sins  of  omission  ;  how 
frequently  you  neglect  to  glorify  your  Crea- 
tor, to  edify  your  fellow-creatures,  and  to 
improve  yourself  in  knowledge  and  holiness. 
Observe  the  frame  of  your  spirit  in  religious 
duties — with  what  reluctance  they  are  un- 
dertaken, and  with  what  indevotion  perform- 
ed ;  with  how  many  wanderings  of  thought, 
and  how  much  dullness  of  desire  :  how  of- 
ten, in  the  common  affairs  of  life,  you  feel 
the  inordinate  sallies  of  passion,  the  work- 
ings of  evil  concupiscence,  or  the  intrusion 
of  foolish  imaginations. 

Register  those  secret  faults,  to  which  none 
but  your  own  conscience  is  privy,  and  which 
none  but  the  all-seeing  eye  discerns.  Often 
review  these  interesting  memoirs.  Fre- 
quently contemplate  yourself  in  this  faithful 
mirror.  An  artist  some  time  ago  took  a  sur- 
vey of  your  estate,  drew  the  form  and  mea- 
sured the  dimensions  of  each  enclosure,  pic- 
tured out  every  hedge,  and  scarce  omitted 
a  single  tree  that  grew  upon  the  premises. 
Act  thus  with  your  will,  your  understanding, 
your  affections.  These  are  your  noble  in- 
ternal demesne,  of  which  none  but  yourself 
can  be  a  competent  surveyor. 

Titer.  It  is  unreasonable  and  preposterous, 
I  must  acknowledge,  to  be  minutely  exact 
in  meaner  matters,  and  use  no  accuracy  of 
inspection  in  the  most  momentous  affairs  ; 
to  have  a  correct  draught  of  our  lands,  which 
are  a  transient  inheritance,  and  no  map  of 
that  everlasting  possession — the  soul. 

Asp.  Gratify  me  then,  my  dear  Theroii, 
in  this  particular.  As  I  purpose  to  set  out 
very  early  in  the  morning,  1  shall  insist  u]ion 
it  that  you  do  not  rise  before  your  usual 
time  in  order  to  compliment  my  departure. 
But  I  now  make  it  my  last  wish,  and  my 
parting  requi'st,  that  you  will  for  some 
months  at  least  keep  a  diary. 

You  have  wondered  at  my  opinion  con- 
cerning the  corruption  of  our  nature,  and  (he 
insufficiencyof  our  own  righteousness.  This 
may  seem  strange,  this  may  a])pear  shocking, 
to  a  mind  unacquainted  with  itself.  But 
when  you  have  searched  your  heart  by  this 
probe — when  you  have  felt  the  pulse  of  your 
soul  by  self-examination — then  you  will  be 
better  able  to  judge  of  my  sentiments,  and 
enter  into  the  reasons  of  my  faith. 

By  this  means  we  shall  also  discover  the 

..  .      '     •  f.  •        1       ^-    ■  ,io  „(•  sins  that  most  easily  beset  us,  which  most 

then   an    nmocent  person,  afterwards  a  disciple  ot  .       i     i  ■   -i  a  i,„fH„  „„.. 

Christ,  (1  Cor.  i.  1.)  to  be  so  illegally  treated,  and    frequently  elude  our  Vigilance,  and  battle  our 

resolution.  We  shall  learn  how  to  post  our 
guard,  when  to  exercise  the  strictest  watch, 
and  where  to  direct  the  artillery  of  prayer. 
In  a  word,  we  shall  learn,  better  than  from 
ten  thousand  volumes,  to  knew  ourselves  :  a 
knowledge  which  was  supposed  by  the  an- 


for  none  of  these  things."  But  when  they 
are  deep  and  penetrate  the  heart,  then  the 
righteousness  of  a  Redeemer  will  be  sweety 
tasteful,  and  inviting,  as  myrrh  and  frankin- 
cense to  the  smell,  as  milk  and  honey  to 
the  palate,  as  gold  and  treasures  to  the 
ruined  bankrupt. 

Titer.  What  method  would  you  advise 
me  to  use,  in  order  to  get  these  convictions 
impressed  on  my  heart  ? 

Asp.  Endeavour  to  understand  God's 
holy  law.  Consider  how  pure,  how  exten- 
sive, how  sublimely  perfect  it  is.  Then  judge 
of  your  spiritual  state,  not  from  the  flatter- 
ing suggestions  of  self-love,  nor  from  the  de- 
fective examples  of  your  fellow-creatures, 
but  by  this  unerring  standard  of  the  sanctu- 
ary. Above  all,  beseech  the  God  and  Fa- 
ther of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  send  his 
enlightening  Spirit  into  your  soul.  For  in- 
deed, without  the  enlightening  influences  of 
the  S])irit,  we  may  have  the  divine  law  in 
our  own  hand,  we  may  comprehend  its  gram- 
matical meaning,  yet  be  like  blind  Bartimeus 
under  the  meridian  sun.  It  is  the  blessed 
Spirit  alone  who  can  rend  the  veil  of  igno- 
rance from  our  minds,  and  show  us  either 
"  the  wonderful  things  of  God's  law,"  or  the 
glorious  mysteries  of  his  gospel.  In  this 
sense,  our  polite  poet*  speaks  a  truth,  as 
singularly  important,  as  it  is  elegantly  ex- 
pressed : 

He  from  thick  films  shall  purge  the  visual  ray. 
And  on  the  sightless  eye-ball  pour  the  day.— 

Popk's  Mestiah. 

V/ill  you  give  me  leave  to  propose  another 
expedient,  which  I  believe  may  be  consider- 
ably serviceable  in  this  particular  case, — 
which  I  am  assured  will  be  greatly  advan- 
tageous in  many  other  respects  ? 

71icr.  Backward  as  I  am  to  adopt  your 
doctrine,  I  am  no  enemy  to  my  own  inter- 
est; therefore  shall  not  only  give  you  leave 
to  propose,  but  give  you  thanks  for  commu- 
nicating so  valuable  an  advice. 

Asp.  It  is,  in  reality,  none  of  mine.  It 
was  long  ago  recommended  by  your  old  ac- 
quaintance Horace.f  It  consists  in  kee|)ing 
a  diary. 

Compile  a  secret  history  of  your  heart  and 
conduct.  Take  notice  of  the  manner  in 
which  your  time  is  spent,  and  of  the  strain 
which  runs  through  your  discourse ;  how 
often  the  former  is  lost  in  trifles,  how  often 
the  latter  evaporates  in  vanity.     Attend  to 


wTiich  was  the  most  likely  means  of  his  conversion  and 
salvation.     Unjust,  because  he  permitted  Sosthene; 


outrageously    abused,    without  interposing  for   his 
rescue. 

»  Mr.  Pope,  in  his  cliarming  poem  styled  the  Mes- 
siah. 
f  "  Ule  velut  fidis  arcana  sodalibus  dim 
Credebat  libris;  neque  si  male  cesserat  usquam 
llecurrens  alio,  neijue  si  bene:  quo  sit,  ut  omnia 
Votiva  patcat  veluti  descripta  tabella 
Vita  ienis."— HoKAT.  Sat. 


LETTER  I. 


319 


ciciit  philovioplicrs,  to  descend  from  heaven  ; 
and  wliicli,  I  hi'lieve,  our  Christian  divines 
will  alli;\v,  has  a  happy  tendency  to  lead 
peojile  thither  ;  because,  of  all  other  prepa- 
ratives, it  hcst  disposes  them  for  that  bless- 
ed Iledeemer,  who  is  the  way,  the  only  way 
to  those  blissful  mansions. 

Now  I  have  mentioned  a  way,  let  me  sup- 
pose you  travelling  through  an  unknown 
country.  You  come  to  a  place,  where  the 
road  divides  itself  into  two  equally-inviting 
parts.  You  are  at  a  loss  which  track  to 
jnirsue.  V^'hose  direction  will  you  choose  to 
follow  ?  that  man's  who  has  passed  through 
neither  of  them  ;  that  man's  who  has  passed 
through  one  of  them  only;  or  that  man's 
who  has  passed  and  repassed  them  both? 
To  wait  for  an  answer,  would  be  an  affront 
to  your  judgment.  Only  let  me  observe, 
that  the  last  is  your  Aspasio's  case.  He 
has  travelled  long,  and  proceeded  far,  even 
in  your  path.  All  that  circumspection  and 
assiduity,  all  that  prayer  and  self  denial,  all 
that  fasting  and  alms,  and  every  other  means 
of  grace  could  do,  in  order  to  establish  a 
righteousness  of  his  own,  has  been  done  ; 
But  to  no  purpose.     lie  has  also  trod  every 


and  just  taking  his  leave  of  our  earth.  To 
retard  the  departing  radiance,  at  least  to 
alleviate  the  approaching  loss,  those  western 
clouds  catch  the  rays,  and  reflect  them  to 
our  view  in  a  most  amusing  diversity  of  co- 
lours. By  this  means  we  enjoy  the  great 
luminary  in  his  beams,  even  when  his  orb 
is  withdrawn  from  our  sight. — An  epistolary 
correspondence  has  something  of  the  same 
nature.  Letters  may  be  called  the  talk  of 
absent  friends.  By  this  expedient,  they 
communicate  their  thoughts,  even  though 
countries,  kingdoms,  or  seas  intercept  their 
speech.  You  must  therefore  promise  me 
this  satisfaction  ;  and  let  me  converse  with 
my  Aspasio  by  the  pen,  when  I  can  no  long- 
er have  an  intercouise  with  him  in  person,  i 

Asp.  You  have  anticipated  me,  Theron. 
Otherwise,  what  is  now  my  promise  would 
have  been  my  request. 

I  cannot  but  take  notice  of  another  par- 
ticularity in  that  magnificent  assemblage  of 
clouds.  How  they  varied  their  appearance, 
as  the  lamp  of  day  changed  its  situation  ! 
A  little  while  ago,  these  curtains  of  the  sky 
were  streaked  with  orange,  or  tinged  with 
amber.      Presently,  they  borrowed  the  blush 


step  in  the  way  which   he  recommends  to    of  the  rose,  or  the  softened  red  of  the  pink 


his  beloved  friend.  He  has  made  the  trial ; 
can  set  his  probatum  est  to  whatever  he  ad- 
vises; and  may  very  truly  say,  with  his 
divine  Master,  "  We  speak  that  we  do 
know,''  John  iii.  11,  and  testify  that  we 
have  experienced. 

Tlier.  I  am  sorry  to  observe,  that  the  night 
is  coming  on,  and  our  conversation  almost  at 
an  end.  My  regret  is  increased,  by  the 
consideration  of  your  intended  journey. 
Though  business  obliges  you  to  depart,  it 
will,  I  hope,  afford  you  leisure  to  write. 
This  will  be  some  compensation  for  the 
want  of  your  company. 

Yonder  sun  is  sinking  below  the  horizon. 


Ere  long,  they  glow  with  vermilion,  or 
deepen  into  crimson.  Soon  succeeds  the 
purple-tinctured  robe  of  majesty ;  and  as 
soon  (thus  transient  is  all  sublunary  gran- 
deur !)  gives  place  to  the  sable  veil  of  even- 
ing, or  the  gloomy  pall  of  night.  Such,  I 
trust,  will  be  the  issue  of  my  Theron's  pre- 
ssnt  apprehensions.  All  his  splendid  ideas 
of  human  excellency  and  self-righteousness 
will  become  faint,  will  lose  their  imaginary 
lustre,  till  at  length  they  fade  away,  and 
darken  into  absolute  self-abasement.  Then 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  will  be  amiable, 
will  be  desirable,  as  the  beauties  of  the 
dawn  breaking  upon  the  shades  of  night. 


LETTER  S. 


LETTER  1. 


Aspasio  to  Theron. 


Dfau  Theron, — I  am  now  at  the  scat 
of  my  worthy  friend  Camillus,  where  busi- 
ness and  inclination  will  fix  me  for  some 
weeks.  This  evening  we  had  a  most 
pleasing  ramble.  I  have  met  with  nothing 
so  agreeable  since  I  left  your  house,  and 
lost  your  company. 

The  time  was  just  arrived,  and  the  scene 
was  fully  o[)eiiC(i,  which  furnished  our  great 
poet  with  his  fine  description  ; 


Now  was  the  sun  in  western  cadence  low, 
From  noon  ;  and  gentle  airs,  due  at  their  hour. 
To  fan  the  earth  now  waked,  and  usher  in 
The  evening  cool. 

At  this  juncture,  Camillus  invited  me  to 
tfike  the  air.  We  walked  several  times 
along  a  close  shady  alley,  arched  with  the 
foliage  of  filberts.  Here,  hid  from  every 
eye,  and  the  whole  world  withdrawn  from 
our  view,  we  seemed  like  monks  strolling  in 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


820 

their  cloisters.  Turning  short  at  the  end, 
we  enter  a  parallel  range  of  m:ijeftic  and 
uniformly  spreading  walnut-trees.  This 
transition  was  somewhat  like  advancing, 
through  a  'ow  porch,  into  the  aisles  of  a  mag- 
11  ficent  cathedral.  The  broad  leaf  and  large 
trunk  of  those  lordly  trees,  their  very  diffu- 
sive spread,  added  to  their  prodigious  height, 
gave  them  an  air  of  uncommon  dignity.  It 
swells  the  imagination  with  vast  ideas,  and 
entertains  us  with  a  romantic  kind  of  de- 
light, to  expatiate  amidst  such  huge  columns, 
and  under  such  superb  elevations  of  living 
architecture. 

Quitting  our  cathedral,  we  turn  once 
again,  and  pass  into  a  grand  colonnade  of 
oaks  ;  so  regular  in  their  situation,  so  simi- 
lar in  their  size,  and  so  remarkably  corres- 
pondent in  every  circumstance,  that  they 
looked  like  the  twins  of  nature,  not  only 
belonging  to  the  same  family,  but  produced 
at  the  same  birth-  Through  these  lay  a 
walk,  straight,  spacious,  and  gracefully  long, 
far  exceeding  the  last  in  the  extent  of  its 
area,  though  much  inferiorin  the  stateliness  of 
its  ceiling.  It  put  me  in  mind  of  that  di- 
vine benignity,  which  has  allowed  us  six 
(iays  for  the  pro=ecution  of  our  own  com- 
niratively  low  affairs,  and  set  apart  but  one 
i')v  thd  more  immediate  attendance  on  the 
s'.ihlime  exercises  of  devotion. 

This  walk  was  covered  with  the  neatest 
gravel,  and  not  a  weed  to  be  seen,  nor  one 
s])ire  of  grass,  through  the  whole  extended 
surface.  It  stole  into  a  continual  ascent, 
vet  so  very  gradually,  that  the  rise  was  scarce 
discernible,  either  by  the  searching  eye,  the 
toiling  feet,  or  the  panting  breath.  At  the 
extremiby,  a  handsome  summer-house  show- 
ed a  flight  of  steps,  and  half  a  Venetian 
door.  The  rest  of  the  building  was  hid  by 
the  clustering  branches. 

As  soon  as  we  enter  the  apartment,  Ca- 
millus  throws  open  the  left-hand  sash,  and 
with  it  a  most  enlarged  and  amiisive  pros- 
pect. The  structure  appeared  situate  on 
the  brow  of  a  considerable  eminence,  whose 
sides  were  partly  confused  and  wild  with 
broken  rocks,  partly  shagged  and  perplexed 
with  thorny  shrubs.  The  spectator  is  agree- 
ably surprised  to  find  himself  accommodated 
with  so  elegant  a  mansion,  on  the  summit 
of  so  rude  and  ruinous  a  spot.  But  how 
greatly  is  his  surprise  and  his  satisfaction 
augmented,  when  he  casts  his  eye  forward, 
and  beholds  the  beautiful  meads,  which, 
from  the  foot  of  this  rugged  hill,  stretch 
t  hemselves  into  a  space  almost  unmeasur- 
alile  I 

Through  the  midst  of  this  extensive  vale, 
which  wris  decked  with  the  finest  verdure, 
and  replenished  with  the  richest  herbage,  a 
river  lolled  its  copious  flood — rolled  in  a 
thousand  serpentine  meanders,  as  though  it 
liud  lost  Its  way  in  the  flowery  labyrinth,  or 


made  repeated  efforts  of  flowing  back  to  its 
source,  till  at  last,  having  wandered  more 
than  twice  the  length  of  the  meadows,  hav- 
ing held  a  mirror  to  the  aspiring  poplars  and 
bending  willows,  having  paid  a  welcome  sa- 
lute to  several  ornamented  villas,  and  passed 
through  the  arches  of  two  or  three  curiously 
pendent  bridges,  it  seemed  to  meet  the  sky, 
and  mingle  with  the  horizon. 

Opposite  to  the  front  window,  a  cascade 
fell  from  the  adjacent  stream.  It  flashed 
and  foamed  along  the  broad  slope,  indented 
with  small  pits,  and  jagged  with  protuberant 
stones.  The  current,  vexed  and  embarrass- 
ed, seemed  to  rave  at  the  intervening  ob- 
stacles, and  forcing  its  rapid,  indignant,  so- 
norous way,  struck  the  ear  with  a  peal  of 
liquid  thunder.  These  fretful  waters — let 
our  angry  passions  observe  the  admonition, 
and  follow  the  example — soon  were  pacified, 
soon  forgot  to  chide.  Collected  into  a  little 
rivulet,  they  ran  off  in  calm  and  silent  lapse, 
till  they  lost  themselves  amongst  beds  of  osier 
and  plantations  of  alder. 

The  river,  widening  as  it  flowed,  was 
parted  here  and  there  by  several  little 
islands  ;  some  tufted  with  reeds,  and  the  re- 
sort of  swans  ;  some  adorned  with  stately 
porticoes  and  splendid  alcoves,  the  graceful 
retreats  of  rural  pleasure ;  some  furnished 
with  green  embowering  walks,  fitted  for 
studious  retirement  and  sedate  contempla- 
tion. On  either  side  of  the  charming  valley, 
towns  and  villages  lay  thick,  and  looked  gay, 
adding  ornament  and  variety  to  the  scene, 
and  receiving  innumerable  advantages  from 
the  passing  wave. 

The  whole  recalled  to  an  attentive  ob- 
server's mind  that  amiable  and  august  spec- 
tacle, which  the  Syrian  soothsayer  could  not 
behold  without  a  rapture  of  delight :  Numb, 
xxiii-  7  :  "  From  the  top  of  the  rocks  I  see 
the  tribes  of  Jehovah,  and  from  the  hills  I 
behold  the  habitations  of  his  chosen  people. 
How  goodly  are  thy  tents,  O  Jacob !  and 
( hy  tabernacles,  O  Israel  !  As  the  valleys 
are  they  spread  forth,  as  gardens  by  the 
river's  side  ;  as  trees  of  exquisite  fragrance,* 
which  the  Lord  hath  planted  ;  as  cedars  of 
stateliest  growth,  flourishing  beside  the 
waters." 

We  had  but  just  looked  about  us  when  a 
messenger  came  for  Camillus.  As  he  was 
called  to  settle  some  private  affairs,  1  chose 
to  stviy  in  this  inviting  retreat  ;  and  deter- 
mined to  make  myself  amends  for  the  loss 
of  Camillus' company,  by  beginning  a  corres- 


*  Numb.  xxiv.  5.  6.  It  is  well  known  that  the  ori- 
ginal word  is  used  'n  the  sacred  writings,  to  denote 
either  a  delightful  perfume,  Prov.  vii.  17,  or  that  aro- 
matic plant  which  produces  it.  Cint.  iv.  14.  For 
which  reason,  I  think  it  very  justifiable  to  render  the 
expression,  "trees  of  exquisite  fragrance,"  and  am 
persuaded  it  will  be  far  more  intelligible  to  tl'.egeuci- 
ality.of  readers,  thau  "  trees  of  iign-alocs." 


LETTER  I. 


321 


pontlence  with  my  Thcron.  Wo  have  pen, 
ink,  nnd  paper,  in  all  our  rural  retirements, 
that  if  any  thing  is  started  in  discourse,  or 
occurs  in  meditation,  worthy  to  be  remem- 
bered, it  may  immediately  be  committed  to 
writing. 

I  could  not  but  observe  to  my  friend,  that, 
fine  as  the  })rospect  appeared,  there  was  one 
decoration  wanting  ;  if  some  grand  deformi- 
ty may  be  called  a  decoration.  The  ridges 
of  a  bleak  and  barren  mountain,  or  the 
skirts  of  a  sun-burnt  tawny  heath,  would 
give  additional  liveliness  to  the  ornamented 
parts  of  the  landscape,  and  make  their  beau- 
ties strike  with  double  vigour.  This  also, 
by  showing  us  what  wretched  abodes  and 
inhospitable  quarters  might  have  fallen  to 
our  share,  would  awaken  in  our  hearts  a 
more  fervent  gratitude  to  the  Supreme  Dis- 
poser  of  things  ;  who  has  cast  our  "  lot  in 
a  fairer  ground,  and  given  us  a  more  goodly 
heritage." 

So,  a  proper  knowledge  of  the  divine  law 
■ — of  its  sublime  perfections  and  rigorous 
sanction — joined  with  a  conviction  of  our 
own  extreme  deficiency  and  manifold  trans- 
gressions ; — all  this  would  endear  the  blessed 
Jesus  to  our  affections,  and  powerfully  re- 
commend his  righteousness  to  our  desires. 
The  remainder  of  tliis  epistle,  therefore, 
shiili  turn  upon  some  instances  of  duty  en- 
joined in  that  sacred  system :  by  which  it 
may  be  highly  useful  to  examine  our  con- 
fhiet  and  sift  our  hearts  ;  in  which,  I  believe, 
we  have  all  fallen  short,  and  are  all  become 
guilty ;  from  which,  we  may  learn  the  im- 
perfection of  our  best  services,  and  see  the 
inexpressible  need  of  a  better  righteousness 
tlian  oiu"  own. 

The  knowledge  of  God  is  the  foundation 
of  all  vital  religion,  and  indeed  is  the  con- 
summation of  human  happiness.  It  is  not 
only  matter  of  present  duty,  but  the  very 
essence  of  our  future  bliss  :  "  This  is  life 
eternal,  to  know  thee  the  only  true  God, 
and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  hast  sent." 
John  xvii.  3.  Yet,  important  and  obligato- 
ry as  it  is,  are  we  not  very  defective  in  this 
(liviiu»  science  ?  Have  we  duly  acquainted 
ourselves  with  the  marvellous  excellencies  of 
tile  Lord  Jehovah?  his  uncontrollable  pow- 
er, and  all-comprehending  wisdom  ;  his  un- 
bounded goodness,  and  unwearied  patience  ; 
his  immaculate  holiness,  and  inflexible  jus- 
tice ;  his  never-failing  faithfulness,  and  in- 
violable veracity  ?  Have  we,  according  to 
the  direction  of  our  inspired  tutor,  pursued 
this  sacred  study  on  our  knees?  James  i. 
."j ;  and  sought  this  most  noble  of  all  intel- 
'eittsal  endowments,  not  merely  from  books, 
but  ])riricipally  at  the  throne  of  grace  ? 
Have  we  sougiit  it,  like  that  ancient  Jew- 
ish student,  with  an  early  ai)plication,  and 
wi'.h  incessant  assiduity;  even  "from  the 
(lower  till  the  grape  was  ripe?    Eccl.  li.  1,';, 


Is  that  scanty  i-ay  of  knowledge,  which 
perhaps  has  forced  itself  through  our  ori- 
ginal darkness,  operative  on  our  affections  ? 
"  Have  we  loved  the  Lord  our  God  with  all 
our  heart  ?"— "  This  is  the  first  and  great 
commandment !"  Matth.  xxii.  38.  Have 
we  constantly  entertained  the  most  magnifi- 
cent and  honourable  thoughts  of  his  sublime 
perfections  ?  Is  our  esteem  for  this  im- 
mensely great  and  most  blessed  Being,  high, 
su])erlative,  matchless  ?  somewhat  like  that 
expressed  by  the  Psalmist,  "  Whom  have  I 
in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  upon 
earth  that  I  desire  in  comparison  of  thee," 
Psalm  Ixxiii.  25.  Have  we  been  affection- 
ately concerned  for  his  glory,  and  zealous  to 
advance  his  holy  religion  ?  troubled,  very 
sensibly  tioubled,  when  our  Maker's  honour 
has  been  tramjjled  in  the  dust,  by  licentious 
tongues,  or  flagitious  deeds  ? 

Have  we  made  it  our  ruling  care  to  ap- 
prove the  whole  of  our  life,  and  the  most 
secret  transactions  of  our  breast,  to  his  all- 
seeing  eye  ?  resolved,  deliberately  resolved 
to  sacrifice,  not  only  our  darling  lusts,  but 
even  our  most  valuable  interests,  whenever 
they  stand  in  competition  with  the  good 
Ijleasure  of  his  will  ?  In  a  word,  as  the  hart 
panteth  after  the  water-brooks,  with  such 
vehement  and  inextinguishable  ardour  have 
we  thirsted  after— a  brighter  manifestation 
of  his  divine  attributes — some  sweeter  as- 
surances of  his  special  love — and  an  eveiv 
increasing  conformity  to  his  holy  image? 

Such  was  the  temper  of  those  excellent 
men,  who  are  characterised  in  the  scriptures 
of  truth  as  children  of  the  Highest,  and  pat- 
terns for  our  imitatioii.  This  is  their  lan- 
guage :  "  The  desire  of  our  soul  is  unto 
thy  name,  and  to  the  remembrance  of  thee. 
With  my  soul  have  I  desired  thee  in  the 
night ;  yea,  with  my  spirit  within  me  will  I 
seek  thee  early."*  Isa.  xxvi.  8,  9.  Neither 
is  such  warmth  of  love,  and  fervour  of  de- 
sire, any  needless  or  extravagant  pitch  of 
devotion  :  but  a  reasonable  service,  indis- 
pensably due,  from  all  intelligent  creatures, 
to  the  great  author  of  their  being;  in  whom 
all  possible  perfections,  with  the  utmost  ex 
altation  and  dignity,  reside:  from  whom  all 
manner  of  blessings,  in  the  most  copious 
and  never-failing  comnnmications,  flow. 

When  we  receive  from  an   absent  i'riend 
rich  and  repeated  presents;  casks  of  gener- 


»We  can  hardly  tell  which  to  admire  most,  the 
I)eauty  of  the  description,  or  the  piety  of  the  peison.s. 
I  have  desired,  and  not  with  inactive  wishes,  but  such 
as  prompt  to  vigorous  ciKlcavoiirs.  I  will  seek  thee- 
and  early,  with  the  most  vigilant  ap])lication,  and  un- 
wearied assiduity.  The  emphasis  is  very  much  in- 
creased, by  the  addition  of  lluse  lively  wiirda,  "  with 
my  soul,  yea,  with  my  whole  spirit;"  with  the  whole 
bent  and  sway  of  my  artections,  and  with  the  steady 
invariable  determination  of  my  ju<l{;im'nt.  'ri.u's 
have  I  desired  thee,  even  in  theiiight;  when  both  llu? 
pursuitsaiid  tliethoUf,'htsofi>lher  peojileare  sunk  and 
lost  in  profound  repose.  Thus  will  1  seek  thee,  with 
a  zeal— early  as  the  risii)<;— constant  as  the  returniiiij 
till. 


832 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


ous  wine,  or  jars  of  delicious  fruit,  we  feel 
ourselves  enkindled  into  a  grateful  affection. 
We  honour,  we  love  the  person,  who  allows 
us  such  a  distinguished  place  in  his  heart ; 
and  expresses  bis  cordial  regard,  by  such  a 
series  of  active  and  tender  benevolence.  The 
blessed  God  is  a  friend  to  us  all,  infinitely 
powerful,  and  equally  munificent.  We  are 
the  constant  objects  of  his  more  than  friend- 
ly, of  his  parental  cares.  Every  passing  mo- 
ment is  a  messenger  of  his  patience,  and 
charged  with  some  token  of  his  bounty.  For 
our  sake,  he  has  difl^used  blessings  over  all 
the  face  of  the  earth,  and  commanded  every 
element  to  concur  in  ministering  to  our  ac- 
commodation. He  has  not  only  adapted  his 
benefits  to  our  several  wants  ;  but  has  given 
them  a  diversification,  large  as  the  scope  of 
our  wishes  ;  and  an  enrichment,  far  beyond 
all  that  our  fancy  could  conceive.  Profuse 
liberaUty !  yet  small  and  scanty,  compared 
with  his  most  adorable  benignity  in  Christ 
Jesus. 

What,  if  God,  wiling  to  manifest  the 
superabundant  riches  of  his  kindness,  had 
znaae  bare  the  arm  of  his  omnipotence,  and 
struck  a  most  miracidous  road  through  the 
surges  of  the  ocean,  to  afford  us  a  safe 
passage? — if,  to  accommodate  us  in  our 
travels,  he  had  brought  watei's  out  of  the 
flinty  rock ;  and  bid  the  ravens  bring  meat 
to  our  hands,  bid  the  winds  convey  niaima 
to  oiu'  doors  ? — if,  to  furnish  us  wit!)  a  com- 
modious settlement,  hehad  dethroned  mighty 
kings,  dispossessed  populous  nations,  and 
made  the  walls  of  impregnable  cities  lall  to 
the  ground? — if,  to  further  the  dispatch  of 
our  business,  or'  facilitate  the  conquest  of 
our  enemies,  he  had  arrested  the  sun  in  liis 
meridian  career,  and  laid  an  embargo  u])on 
the  moon  setting  out  on  her  nightly  tuiu-  ? 
In  short,  if,  to  promote  our  welfare,  lie  had 
suspended  the  powers,  and  controlled  the 
laws  of  universal  nature ;  bad  wrought  all 
the  miracles  exhibited  in  the  land  of  l-'gypt, 
or  recorded  in  the  volumes  of  inspiration  ; 
— should  we  not  think  ourselves  under  the 
most  inviolable  engagements  to  love  the 
Lord  our  God,  "  who  had  done  so  great 
things  for  us  ?"  to  love  him  unfeignedly  and 
ardently;  to  love  him  with  a  supreme  affec- 
tion, far  above  every  other  amiable  object  ? 
Yet  we  have  greater,  incomparably  greater 
obligations  to  our  almighty  Benefactor.  ;For 
Chear,  O  heavens  !  wonder,  O  earth  !  and 
let  eternity  dwell  upon  the  stupendous  truth !) 
"  God  spared  not  his  Son — his  own  Son" — 
his  transcendently  glorious  and  divinely  ex- 
cellent Son — but  delivered  him  up  to  the 
deepest  humiliation,  and  to  the  most  ac- 
cursed death,  for  us  men,  and  our  salvation." 

O,  Theron  !  have  we  been  impressed  with 
woiider,  at  the  contemplation  of  this  good- 
ness ?  Have  our  hearts  glowed  with  grati- 
tude, under  a  sense  of  these  mercies  ?  Surely 


no  man  need  be  convicted  of  any  other  crime 
at  the  great  tribunal  than  insensibility  of 
such  love,  and  ingratitude  for  such  fa- 
vours. This,  without  the  accession  of  hor- 
rid impieties,  is  enough  to  leave  him  abso- 
lutely inexcusable.  This  is  enough  to  prove 
him  one  of  the  most  disingenuous  and  de- 
testable of  creatures. 

Have  we  exercised  ourselves  in  frequent 
thanksgiving  ?  Many  are  the  exhortations 
to  this  honourable  duty.  "  Praise  thy  God, 
O  Zion,"  Psalm  cxlvii.  12,  "  praise  him  for 
his  mighty  acts ;"  Psalm  cl.  2 ;  "  praise 
him  according  to  his  excellent  greatness."* 
Innumerable  are  the  incitements  to  abound 
in  this  pleasant  service.  Every  comfort  has 
a  voice,  and  cries  in  the  ear  of  reason,  "  O 
that  men  would  therefore  praise  the  Lord 
for  his  goodness  !"  Every  deliverance  en- 
forces the  address,  and  furnishes  fresh  ma- 
terials for  the  heavenly  employ.  The  man 
after  God's  own  heart  declares,  as  an  invit- 
ing example  for  our  piactice,  "  I  will  bless 
the  Lord  at  all  times  ;  his  praise  shall  con- 
tinually be  in  my  month."'  Psalm  xxxiv.  1. 
"  Yea,  as  long  as  I  have  any  being,  I  will 
sing  praises  unto  my  God,"  Psalm  cxlvi.  2. 
Ijuleed,  when  we  consider  the  inexhaustibly 
rich  bounty  of  God  our  Creator,  and  the  in- 
conceivably tender  mercy  of  God  our  Re- 
deemer, it  is  both  strange  and  deplorable 
that  the  love  of  God  is  not  always  prevail- 
ing in  our  lieaits,  and  the  language  of  praise 
ever  flowing  fioui  our  lips. 

I  will  not  suppose  our  character  so  irre- 
ligious, that  we  have  neglected  the  daily 
worsliij)  of  (Jod,  either  in  our  closet  or  in 
our  family :  But  have  we  prayed  with  that 
profoinul  reverential  awe,  which  is  due  to 
the  high  and  lofty  One,  "  who  inhabiteth 
eternity  ?"  Have  we  made  our  sup])lications 
with  that  fervent  importunity  which  may, 
in  some  measiu'e,  correspond  with  the  ex- 
treme indigence  of  our  state,  and  the  invalu- 
able worth  of  the  blessings  we  crave  ?  Plave 
our  petitions  been  attended  with  that  steady 
affiance,  which  may  glorify  the  goodness,  the 
power,  the  vei'acity  of  the  Lord  ?  may  evi- 
dently declare  that  he  "  is  rich  in  mercy  to 
all  that  call  upon  him;"  Rom.  x.  12;  that 
he  is  the  Lord  Jehovah,  in  whom  is  ever- 
lasting strength ;"  Isa.  xxvi.  4  ;  "  that  he  is 
the  God  of  truth,  and  faithful  for  ever." 
Deut.  xxxii.  4.  We  call  him  Father  ;  but 
have  we  trusted  in  him  with  that  unsuspect- 


*  Among  these  exhortations,  we  may  rank  that 
beautiful  and  devout  address  to  God,  Psalm  xxii.  3. 
Thou  that  inhabitest — light  inaccessible,  shall  1  say  ? 
the  regions  of  immensity,  or  the  ages  of  eternity  ? 
No,  but  what  is  a  more  exalted  character — the  praises 
of  Israel :  finely  signifying  that  praise  is  a  most  ac- 
ceptable sacrifice,  to  which  the  divine  Majesty  at- 
tends with  the  greatest  delight;  intimating  also,  that 
the  exercise  of  praise  should  not  be  an  occasional 
thing,  like  a  transient  visit  to  a  stranger's  house;  but 
a  daily  and  almost  unintermitted  service,  like  the 
«tate<J  residence  of  a  person  in  his  own  habitatiou. 


LETTER   L 


323 


ing,  cheerful,  filial  eoiifidonoc,  which  a  child 
reposes  on  the  lideiity  and  indulgence  of 
such  an  earthly  relative  ?  Have  we  not  en- 
tertained, too  often  entertanied,  narrow,  dis- 
honourable, beggarly  ap>prehen.sions,  concern- 
ing the  treasures  of  his  liberality,  and  the 
bowels  of  his  i)ity ;  rating  them  even  lower 
than  our  parents,  our  friends,  or  our  own  ? 

Have  we  been  careful  to  carry  the  spirit 
of  our  prayers  into  ourordinary  conversation, 
and  waited  at  the  door,  as  well  as  approach- 
ed to  the  throne  of  grace? — Amidst  the  in- 
tervals of  our  solemn  devotions,  have  we 
cultivated  an  ejaculatory  intercourse  with 
heaven  ?  How  highly  would  the  aaibitious 
courtier  prize,  and  how  frequently  would  he 
use  a  privy  key,  which  should  give  him,  at 
all  hours,  free  admittance  to  his  sovereign. 
This  key  of  admittance,  only  to  an  infinite- 
ly more  exalted  Potentate,  we  all  possess  in 
the  practice  of  mental  aspirations  to  God. 
It  is  certainly  the  noblest  employ,  and  will 
be  the  richest  improvement  of  our  thoughts, 
to  send  them  in  such  short  embassies  to  the 
King  of  kings  ;  and  to  derive,  by  such  occa- 
sional  sallies   of  faith*   a  renewed   supply 


♦  We  have,  in  Scripture,  very  remarkable  instances 
of  the  success  which  has  attended  ejaculatory  prayer. 
Observe  Nehemiah :  He  stands  before  Ahasuerus,  ap- 
prehensive of  the  monarch's  displeasure,  yet  desirous 
to  solicit  him  in  behalf  of  Jerusalem.  To  be  delivered 
from  his  fears,  and  to  obtain  his  desires,  what  method 
does  he  use  ?  The  mean  and  servile  arts  of  flattery  ? 
No;  but  the  manly  and  devout  expedient  of  prayer. 
I  prayed,  says  the  patriot,  to  the  God  of  heaven. — We 
cannot  suppose,  that  he  fell  on  his  knees,  or  spoke 
with  his  lips,  while  he  continued  in  the  royal  presence. 
But  he  darted  up  his  soul  in  silent  supplication ;  which 
supplication  pierced  the  clouds,  reached  the  eternal 
thn.liK,  aiul  rLturiied  not  again  till  a  blessing  was  sent; 
such  as  totally  nvertLil  the  wrath  he  dreaded,  and  pro- 
cured fa^'our  and  assistance  much  larger  than  he  ex- 
pected. Neh.  ii.  4. 

When  David  heard  that  Ahithophel,  the  ablest  po- 
litician in  his  kingdom,  was  revolted  to  Absalom  ;  sen- 
sible what  a  loss  his  affairs  had  sustained,  and  what  an 
advantage  the  rebellious  ))arty  had  acquired,  he  betook 
himself  to  his  Ood.  He  staid  not  for  an  opportunity 
of  retirement,  but  insUuitly  and  upon  the  spot  cried, 
"  ()  Lord,  I  pray  Hue,  turn  the  counsel  of  Ahithophel 
into  foolishms, !" — A  short  address,  but  very  effica- 
cious. He  who  (lisaiipointeth  the  devices  of  the  craf- 
ty, sent  a  spirit  of  infatuation  among  the  rebels;  and 
inclined  them  to  reject  the  advice  of  that  judicious 
statesman.  Which  false  step  brought  upon  their  hor- 
rid enterprise  the  ruin  it  deserved,  and  chagrined  the 
wretched  traitor,  even  to  rage,  frenzy,  and  suicide.  2 
Sam.  XV.  ,31 ;   xvii.  23. 

Ainyntor,  at  a  memorable  period  of  his  life,  was 
under  great  distress  of  conscience,  and  harassed  by 
violent  temptali<ms.  He  made  his  case  known  to  an 
experienced  friend,  who  said,  "  Ainyntor,  you  do  not 
pray." — Suriirised  at  this,  he  replied,  "  I  Jiray,  if  such 
a  thing  be  jiossible,  loo  much.  I  can  har<lly  tell  how 
many  times  in  the  day  1  bow  my  knee  before  God: 
almost  to  the  omission  of  my  other  duties,  and  the  ne- 
glect of  my  necessary  studies."  "  You  mistake  my 
meaning,  dear  Ainyntor.  1  do  not  refer  you  to  the 
ceremony  of  the  knee,  but  to  the  devotion  of  the 
heart ;  which  neglects  not  any  business,  but  inter- 
mingles prayer  with  all ;  which,  in  every  place,  looks 
unto  the  Lord  ;  and,  on  every  occasion,  lilts  up  an  in- 
digent, longing  soul,  for  the  supply  of  his  grace. 
Tnus,"  (addc(l  he,  and  spoke  with  a  peculiar  vehe- 
mence), "this  is  the  jirayer  which  all  the  devils  in  i 
hell  cannot  withstand."  This,  I  wouldfurther  observe,  ; 
is  the  prayer  whicn  brings  down  somewhat  of  he.iven 
into  the  heart;  in  whicli  I  would  desire  to  abound, 
and  would  earnestly  recommend  to  all  my  aciiuaiiit-  1 
aiice,  and  all  my  readers.  I 


from  the  fountaiti  of  all  good.  How  great 
a  loss  then  must  it  he  to  our  spiritual  inter- 
ests, and  how  contemptuous  a  disregard  of 
the  ever-present  Jehovah,  to  omit  entirely, 
or  long  to  discontinue,  this  most  beneficial 
practice  of  habitual  adoration  ? —  Can  you, 
my  dear  Theron,  acquit  yourself  on  this  ar- 
ticle of  inquiry  ?  Has  not  every  day  of  your 
life  been  a  day  of  negligence  in  this  icsj)cct ; 
been  a  perpetual  disobedience  to  our  Savi- 
our's injunction,  "  Men  ought,  in  this  man- 
ner, always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint  ?" 
Luke  xviii.  1. 

Have  we  sanctified  the  Sabbath?  Has  tne 
Lord's  day,  with  all  its  solemn  and  sacred 
offices,  been  our  delight  ?  Have  we  remem- 
bered that  distinguished  portion  of  our  time, 
as  Jacob  remembered  the  delightful  inter- 
view  at  Peniel  ?  Have  we  expected  it,  as 
merchants  expect  the  arrival  of  a  richly  la- 
den vessel  ?  Have  we  improved  it,  as  hus- 
bandmen improve  the  shining  hours  of  the 
harvest  ?  Have  we  wholly  laid  aside  every 
earthly  engagement,  "  not  speaking  our  own 
words,"  Isa  Iviii.  13,  nor  allowing  our- 
selves in  any  gratifications  that  may  inter- 
rupt oiu'  communion  with  the  Father  of 
Spirits?  Has  "one  day  in  his  courts  been 
preferable  to  a  thousand,"  Psal.  Ixxxiv.  10, 
spent  either  in  the  works  of  our  calling,  or 
in  the  scenes  of  recreation  ?  Have  the  me- 
morials of  our  Redeemer's  dying  merits,  and 
the  seals  of  his  unchangeable  loving-kindness, 
been  relished  as  a  feast,  and  prized  as  a  por- 
tion ? 

Have  we  honoured  God's  holy  word  ? 
What  greater  mark  of  disesteem  than  to  de- 
spise a  person's  discourse,  and  not  to  think 
his  speech  worthy  of  our  notice  ?  especially 
when  he  addresses  us  \\ith  very  great  seri- 
ousness, and  with  the  utmost  afi^ection.  In 
our  Bible,  the  (rod  of  glory  speaks  to  his 
creatures  ;  speaks  with  the  most  persuasive 
energy,  and  with  all  the  yearnings  of  parental 
tenderness.  Have  we  listened  to  our  Crea- 
tor, with  leverence  and  delight ;  and  rejoiced 
with  tremblingat — "  Thus  saith  the  Lord  ?'^ 

Have  we  searched  the  oracles  of  truth,  not 
merely  as  scholars,  but  as  sinners  ;  not  from 
a  spirit  of  curiosity,  or  with  an  air  of  forma- 
lity, but  with  a  solicitude  and  aidoiir  becom- 
ing persons  who  inquire  after  the  Saviour  of 
their  lost  souls?  Have  we  submitted  our 
inmost  thoughts  to  their  impartial  scrutiny  ; 
to  receive  conviction  of  sin  from  their  aw- 
I'ul  remonstrances,  and  to  hear  the  sentence 
of  condemnation  at  their  righteous  bar? 
Have  we  been  willing  to  suffer  the  ri'proach 
of  conscious  baseness,  while  they  have  ri])]U(l 
up  the  disguises  of  falsehood,  laid  0]ien  our 
secret  iniipiities,  and  brought  all  our  evil 
ways  to  reriuiiibraiKe  ?  Thus  Josiah  jicted  : 
"  His  heart  was  tender,  and  he  liiiinhled 
himself  before  liie  Lord  :  he  rent  his  clotiies, 
and  wept  liefore  the   J.ord,  when  he  heard 


324 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


tlie  words  of  tlie  book  of  the  law."  2  Cliron. 
xx\iv.  27. 

Have  we  hid  the  glad  tidings  of  the  gos- 
pel within  our  memories,  within  our  hearts  ? 
Hnve  we  been  diligent  to  suck  this  "  honey- 
comb" (Cant.  V.  i.)  of  grace,  by  concomi- 
tiint   meditation,    and   subsequent    prayer? 
Have  we  valued  the  precious  promises,  as 
gentlemen   of  wealth  value   the  writings  of 
tiieir  private  estates ;  or  as  infranchised  bo 
dies  esteem  the  charter  of  their  public  pri 
vih'ges  ?     Have  we,  like  the  princely  patri 
■aich,  longed  for  those  words  of  edification, 
exhortation,  and  comfort,  more  than  for  our 
necessary  food?   Job  xxiii.  12,  and,  like  the 
i-oyal  prophet,  prevented  the  night-watches, 
tliat  wc  may  be  occupied  in  those  statutes 
iiiirl  ordinances  of  heaven  ?  Psalm  cxix.  148. 
We  have  hitherto  confined  the  examina- 
tion to  a  few  instances  of  the  affirmative 
kind  ;  how  dreadfully  will  the  dark  account 
be  swelled,  if,  instead  of  love  and  obedience, 
there  be  hatred  and  opposition — hatred  of 
the  name,  glory,  and  worship  of   God — op- 
position to  his  interest,  kingdom,  and  ser- 
vice ? 

God  is  infinite  perfection,  worthy  of  all 
admiration,  exalted  above  all  praise.  Yet 
do  not  our  thoughts  more  frequently,  or 
more  naturally,  turn  upon  om*  own  accom- 
plishments, than  upon  the  adorable  and 
shining  attributes  of  the  almighty  ?  Tliis 
is,  in  itself,  the  most  shameful  dotage ;  and, 
in  God's  sight,  the  most  abominable  idolatry, 


ty  taught  us  to  love,  "  not  in  word,"  or 
plausible  appearance  only,  "  but  in  deed  and 
in  truth  ?"  1  John  iii-  18.  Do  we  love  our 
n'^ighbours,  not  merely  on  account  of  some 
relation  they  bear  us,  or  some  services  they 
have  done  us  ;  but  because  they  are  crea- 
tures of  the  blessed  God,  are  the  objects  of 
his  providential  care,  and  capable,  at  least, 
of  being  conformed  to  his  image  ?  Do  we 
love  them,  because  we  hope  that  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  has  bought  them  with  his 
blood ;  is  willing  to  make  them  partakers 
of  his  Spirit,  and  members  of  his  mystical 
body? 

Are  we  sincerely  concerned  for  their  pre- 
sent welfare  and  their  eternal  happiness  ? 
Do  we  embrace  all  opportunities  of  promot- 
ing both  the  one  and  the  other  ?  embrace 
them  with  the  same  alacrity  ;  and  imjjrove 
them  with  the  same  zeal,  which  actuate  us 
in  seeking  our  own  felicity  ?  If  they  exceed 
us  in  all  that  is  amiable,  and  all  that  is  pros- 
perous, do  we  contemplate  their  superior 
excellence  with  a  real  complacency,  and  their 
more  abundant  success  with  a  real  satisfac- 
tion? 

Do  we  dislike  to  hear,  and  abhor  to 
spread,  defamatory  tales  ;  even  when  our  ad- 
versaries are  the  men  whom  they  tend  to  black- 
en ?  When  rudely  affronted,  or  causelessly 
abused,  do  we  pity  the  offenders,  for  the 
wrong  done  to  their  own  souls,  rather  than 
kindle  into  resentment  at  the  indignity  of- 
fered to  ourselves?     When  greatly  injured, 


Yet  let  us  observe  what  passes  within,  and  j  are  we^slovy  to  anger,  and  not  easily  pro 
we  shall  probably  find,  that  as  damps  arise 
in  the  mines,  or  fogs  in  the  fenny  grounds, 
so  naturally  and  so  copiously  do  these  over- 
weening reflections  arise  in  our  depraved 
minds. 

God  is  an  everlasting  King.  Have  we 
not  too  often  resisted  his  authority  ?  Have 
we  not,  as  far  as  in  us  lay,  deposed  the  om- 
nipotent Sovereign,  and  exalted  self  into  the 
tlnone  ?  made  self-vvill  our  law,  and  self- 
[)!e:ising  our  end  ?  thus  adding  sacrilege  to 
rebellion  ? 

God  is  transcendently  gracious  and  amia- 
ble. Have  we  not  turned  our  backs  upon 
him,  by  forgetting  his  mercies  ?  Nay,  have 
we  not  spumed  him  from  our  affections,  by 

be  ing  "  lovers  of  pleasui'e,  more  than  lovers 

of  God?"    2   Tim.   iii.   4.     Awake,  con- 
science !  bear  thy  impartial  testimony ;  and 

I  !>.m  persuaded,  the  Pharisee  in  our  breasts, 

like  the  man  unfurnished  with  the  wedding 

garment,   must   be  struck  dumb;  must  be 

covered  with  confusion. 

Is  our  hearts  warm  with  brotherly  love  ? 

Good  manners  will  put  expressions  of  civility 

into  our  mouths  ;   but  has  a  power  from  on 

high  implanted  the  royal  law  of  charity  in 

our  breasts  ?    The  character  of  a  gentleman 

n.-rjiiires  a  deportment  accessible,  obliging, 

and  courteous  ;  has  the  spirit  of  Chi'istiani- 


voked  ?  Are  we  much  more  willing  to  be 
reconciled  than  to  foment  displeasure,  and 
prosecute  revenge  ?  In  a  word,  do  we 
"  love  our  enemies  ;  bless  them  that  curse 
us  ;  do  good  to  them  that  hate  us ;  and 
pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use  us 
and  persecute  us  ?"  Matt.  v.  44.  Without 
this  loving  and  lovely  disposition,  we  abide, 
says  the  apostle,  in  death,  1  John  iii.  14, 
are  destitute  of  spiritual,  and  have  no  title 
to  eternal  life.* 

Let  me  add — are  all  our  graces,  and  all 
our  works  "  clothed  with  humility  ?"  This 
should  be  the  dress  in  which  they  severally 
appear,  as  well  as  the  bond  of  connexion 
which  unites  them  all.  Do  we  maintain  a 
very  low  opinion  of  our  own  accomplish- 
ments, and  "  in  honour  prefer  others  to 
ourselves  ?"  Rom.  xii.  10  ;  habituiilly  sen- 
sible that  we  are  less  than  the  least  of  the 
divine  mercies,  and  the  veiy  cbiefest  of  sin- 
ners ? 

I  might  easily  have  branched  out  the 
preceding  subjects  into  a  much  greater  va- 


*  What  manner  of  love  is  this  ?  How  disintere.';t- 
ed  I  how  extensive  !  how  triumiih.iiit !  Must  not  all 
the  bo  tstetl  benevolence  of  the  philosoiiher  anil  the 
moralist  strike  sail  to  this  evangelical  charity  ? 
Must  not  both  moralistand  philosopher acknowlcdt,e 
the  necessity  of  a  divine  operation,  thus  to  enlarge, 
exalt,  and  refine  their  social  affections  .' 


KETTEH    II. 


025 


riety  of  interrogatory  articles.  But  I  in- 
tend only  to  present  you  with  a  specimen. 
Vour  own  meditations  will  enlarge  tlie 
sketch,  and  supply  what  is  defective.  Only 
let  me  beg  of  you,  my  dear  friend,  to  try 
your  state  by  this  touchstone  ;  to  prove 
your  conduct  by  this  standard.  And  may 
the  Father  of  lights  give  you  an  under- 
standing to  discern  the  exact  purity  and 
sublime  perfection  of  his  holy  law  ! 

Have  you  lived  in  the  uninterru])ted  ob- 
servance of  all  these  duties  ;  avoiding  what- 
ever is  forbidden,  and  obeying  whatever  is 
commanded?  Your  outward  l)ehaviour,  I 
know,  has  been  free  from  notorious  viola- 
tions ;  but  has  your  inward  temper  been 
jireserved  from  all  ungodly  motions,  and 
from  every  irregular  desire  ?  Is  there  no 
enmity  in  your  heart  to  any  of  the  precepts, 
nor  any  backwardness,  nor  any  failure  in 
performing  each  and  every  injunction  ? 

When  you  put  these  questions  to  your- 
self, remember,  that  if  you  fail  in  one  ])oint,, 
or  in  any  degree,  you  are  guilty  of  all, 
James  ii.  10.  If  your  conformity  be  not 
persevering  as  well  as  perfect,  you  incur  the 
penalty,  and  are  abandoned  to  the  curse. 
Gal.  iii.  10.  You  stand  charged,  be- 
fore the  Judge  of  the  world,  with  all  the 
guilt  of  all  your  sins,  both  original  and  ac- 
tual ;  and  there  is  not  one  circumstance, 
nor  one  aggravation,  of  any  of  your  iniqui- 
ties, overlooked  or  forgotten — uidess,  re- 
nouncing all  your  personal  performances, 
you  ))]ace  your  whole  affiance  on  a  Saviour's 
atonement,  and  a  Saviour's  righteousness. 
I  think  you  will  not  dans  to  put  the  issue 
of  your  everlasting  state  upon  the  former 
footing,  which  is  not  only  hazardous,  but 
nuist  be  inevitably  ruinous.  You  will  in- 
finitely rather  choose  to  acknowledge  yoiir- 
.self  a  poor  insolvent,  and  plead  the  un- 
searchable ri(;hes  of  your  Redeemer's  obe- 
dience. 

To  those  who  believe,  the  law,  though 
:  trict,  is  not  terrible  ;  because,  be  its  pre- 
cepts of  holiness  ever  so  extensive,  they 
1  ave  been  most  comjdetely  fulfilled  by  their 
gloiious  Surety.  He  its  jienal  sanctions 
ever  so  rigorous,  they  have  been  satisfied 
to  the  utmost  by  their  great  IMediator. 
lU'lievers,  therefore,  may  make  their  boast  of 
their  adorable  Sjjonsor  ;  they  "  may  sit 
under  his  shadow  with  great  delight,"  Cant. 
ii.  3  ;  while  the  thunderings  of  Mount 
Sinai,  and  idl  the  tenors  of  the  legal  dis- 
pi-nsation,  tend  only  to  increase  and  quick- 
en the  refreshing  sense  of  their  safety. 
Just  as  the  possessor  of  a  plentiful  estate, 
in  some  peaceful  and  prosperous  country, 
rejjoses  himself  under  the  shade  of  his  vine, 
or  the  shelter  of  his  fig-tree  ;  and  hearing  of 
ilie  wars  which  embroil,  or  the  plagues 
which  depopulate  other  nations,  tastes, 
with  auguientcd  relish,  his  own  felicity. 


Let  me  dose  with  the  afPcctionate  and 
emphatical  wish  of  an  inspired  epistolary 
writer — "  That  the  Lord  of  peace  may 
give,"  my  dear  Theron,  "  peace — always 
by  all  means!"  2  Tliess.  iii.  16.  Then 
I  shall  think  my  wishes  are  accomplishing, 
and  this  blessing  is  at  the  door,  when  he 
sees  the  ])urity  of  the  divine  law — sees  the 
depravity  of  his  own  nature — and  the  im- 
possibility of  being  justified  without  an  in- 
terest in  the  great  Alediator's  righteous- 
ness ;  that  righteousness  which,  as  it  is  tl;e 
only  hope  and  the  constant  joy,  is  there- 
fore  the  darling  theme,  of 

Your  ever  faithful 

ASPASIO. 

P.  S.  Sliidl  I  abridge  the  preceding  let- 
ter, and  contract  the  \\Iiole  into  those  two 
great  commandments  which  made  the  first 
awakening  impressions  on  my  ov\'n  mind  ? 
"  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thy  heart  ;  thou  shalt  love  thy  neigh- 
bour as  thyself."  Amazing  !  said  your 
As])asio.  Are  these  the  commands  of 
God?  as  obligatory  as  the  prohibition  of 
adultery,  or  the  observation  of  the  Sab- 
bath ?  Then  has  my  whole  life  been  a 
contiiuial  act  of  disobedience.  Not  a  day, 
no,  nor  an  ho<n',  in  which  I  have  performed 
my  duty.  This  conviction  struck  me,  as 
the  hand-writing  upon  the  wall  struck  the 
presumptuous  monarch.  It  pursued  me, 
as  Saul  ])ursued  the  Christians,  not  only  to 
my  own  house,  but  even  to  distant  cities  ; 
nor  ever  gave  up  the  great  controversy,  till, 
under  the  influences  of  the  Spirit,  it  brought 
me  "  weai-y  and  heavy  laden  to  Jesus 
Christ." 


LETTi:u  II. 

TlIEUON  TO   ASPASIO. 

Dkar  Aspasio, — More  than  three 
weeks  are  elaiised  since  you  favoured 
me  with  your  improving  company,  dur- 
ing which  interval  I  have  frequently  re- 
collected the  most  material  parts  of  our 
late  discourses.  I  have  carefully  con- 
sidered both  the  docti-ines  you  advanced 
and  the  answers  you  retiuued  to  my  severfil 
objections.  I  have  often  reviewed  your 
valuable  letter,  have  used  it  as  a  touch- 
stone to  examine  my  state,  and  have  with 
great  punctuality  observed  your  parting 
advice.  I  have  sat  every  evening  for  a 
picture  of  my  mind,  and  have  endeavoured 
to  take  a  true  unflattering  draught  of  all  its 
distinguishing  qualities.  And  if  the  diary 
is  a  faithful  mirror,  if  it  does  not  aggravate 
the  deformity  of  my  features,  I  shall  be 
absolutely  out  of  conceit  with  myself;   I 


326 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


shall  ever  entertain  the  meanest  opinion  of 
my  own,  either  moral  or  religious  qualifi- 
cations. 

Where  is  that  intense  and  supreme  love 
of  God,  which  his  transcendent  jjcrfections 
challenge,  and  his  ineffable  goodness  claims  ? 
Where  that  firm  and  joyful  reliance  on 
Christ  Jesus  in  any  degree  proportioned  to 
his  infinite  merits  and  inviolable  promises? 
Where  that  cordial  and  tender  affection  for 
my  fellow-christians,  vvbich  is  due  to  the 
servants  of  a  divine  Redeemer  ;  the  people 
whom  ho  ransomed  by  his  agonies,  and  pur- 
chased with  his  very  blood  ?  Where  is  the 
incense  of  holy  contemplation  and  refined 
desire  ?  where  the  fiame  of  fervent  devo- 
tion and  ever-active  zeal ;  such  as  become 
the  living  temple  of  God,  in  whicli  his  most 
immaculate  and  glorious  Spirit  vouchsafes 
to  reside  ?  These  fundamental  graces,  like 
the  grand  organs  in  the  animal  system, 
should  impart  health  to  the  soul,  and  spread 
the  beauty  of  holiness  through  all  the  con- 
versation. But  these,  alas  !  far  from  beating 
with  a  vigorous  and  uniform  pulse,  hardly 
heave  with  life  ;  only  just  struggle,  now  and 
then,  \^'ith  some  faint,  intermitted,  uneven 
throes. 

How  seldom  do  my  actions  spring  from 
gratitude  to  the  everlasting  Benefactor,  or 
aim  at  the  gloiy  of  his  superexcellent  ma- 
jesty !  In  addressing  the  King  immortal, 
invisible,  how  languid  are  my  affections,  and 
liow  wandering  is  my  attention  !  how  great 
my  imbelief,  and  how  little  my  reverential 
awe  I  I  receive  innumerable  mercies  ;  but 
ivhere  are  my  returns  of  correspondent 
thankfulness?  I  am  visited  with  many  gra- 
cious chastisements:  but  without  proper  re- 
signation, or  due  improvement.  Alas,  for 
my  heartless  devotions,  my  lifeless  virtues, 
and  the  multitude  of  my  refined  iniquities  ! 
Hid  behind  the  mask  of  outward  decency, 
and  some  customary  forms  of  religion,  I  was 
altogether  unacquainted  with  my  spiritual 
state.  I  fancied  myself  "  rich,  and  increas- 
ed with  goods,  and  to  have  need  of  nothing  ;" 
even  while  I  was  "  wretched,  and  misera- 
ble, and  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked,"  Rev. 
iii.  17. 

It  I  look  back,  and  review  the  years  of 
youth  and  manhood,  what  has  been  the 
tenor,  what  is  the  aspect  of  my  life  ?  More 
like  a  desolate  and  horrid  wilderness,  than 
a  cultis'ated  garden,  or  a  fruitful  vineyard. 
In  youth,  what  sordid  gratifications  of  ap- 
petite !  In  manhood,  what  base  compliances 
with  a  wicked  world  !  In  both,  what  shoals 
of  evil  inclinations  have  polluted  my  heart ! 
what  swarms  of  vain  imaginations  have  de- 
based my  thoughts!  what  frothy  and  un- 
profitable words  have  dropt  from  my  lips  ! 
By  all  whicli,  how  have  I  disobeyed,  and 
how  dishonoured  God  !  how  have  I  denied, 
and  how  crucified  the   Lord  Jesus  Christ ! 


and  yet  supposed  myself,  all  the  while,  to 
be  good  enough. 

It  is  something  unaccountable,  that  a 
person  of  my  inquisitive  disposition  should, 
through  the  course  of  so  many  years,  be 
such  an  utter  stranger  to  himself.  I  won- 
der at  my  own  preposterous  folly !  To 
travel  into  foreign  countries,  and  visit  the 
most  renowned  cities  of  Europe  ;  yet  never 
step  over  the  threshold,  nor  look  within  the 
apartments  of  my  own  breast !  To  carry  on 
a  correspondence  with  my  friends,  even  in 
the  remotest  nations,  and  never  enter  uporr 
a  conference,  nor  hold  any  inteUigence  with 
my  own  heart !  To  inquire  after  news 
from  the  fleet,  news  from  the  army,  news 
from  the  court ;  yet  exercise  neither  curi- 
osity nor  care  \vith  regard  to  the  hope  of 
heaven,  and  the  concerns  of  eternity  !  What 
egregious  misconduct  is  this !  A  most 
pernicious  error  in  the  economy  of  religious 
life  : 

Sometimes  I  have  cast  a  transient  glance 
on  my  outwai-d  behaviour,  but  never  ex- 
tended my  search  to  the  delinquent,  the 
traitor,  the  rebel  within.  And  even  my 
outward  behaviour  has  been  surveyed  with 
as  much  erroneous  partiality  as  superficial 
lenity.  It  has  been  compared,  not  with 
that  exact  and  sublime  standard,  the  scrip- 
tures of  tnith  ;  but,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
self-deceiving  Pharisee,  with  the  imjust, 
extortionate,  adulterous  practices  of  some 
other  people.  From  whence  I  most  un- 
warrantably concluded,  that  being  not  quite 
so  abandoned  as  the  most  profligate  crea- 
tures, my  character  must  be  good,  and  my 
condition  safe.  But,  thanks  to  your  last 
friendly  letter,  and  the  searching  ex))edient 
it  recommended,  I  am  now  in  a  different 
way  of  thinking. 

It  is  strange  to  recollect,  and  indeed  it 
is  shameful  to  confess,  the  many  artifices 
which  I  have  used  to  put  a  cheat  u])on  my- 
self. Sometimes  I  have  fancied  that  the 
divine  law  could  never  be  so  strict  as  to 
condemn  us  inexorably,  if  we  continue  not 
in  all  its  precepts.  Sometimes  I  have 
pleaded  the  infirmity  of  our  nature,  and  en- 
deavoured to  make  the  works  of  darkness 
appear  only  as  pitiable  failings.  Sometimes 
I  have  taken  refuge  in  the  excellency  of  our 
church,  and  plumed  myself  with  the  b(  r- 
rowed  feathers  of  a  religious  profession. 
At  other  times  I  have  soothed  my  con- 
science to  rest,  by  a  punctuality  of  atten- 
dance on  places,  or  a  zealous  attachment  to 
forms.  And  all  this  to  seduce,  cajole,  and 
betray  myself — betray  myself,  first  into  a 
vain  conceit  of  my  own  endowments,  then 
into  a  contemptuous  disregard  of  Christ, 
and  at  last  into  eternal  destruction.  But 
now  I  see  my  g.iilt,  I  apprehend  my  dan- 
ger, and  feel  my  helpless  condition. 

Indeed,  my  Aspasio,  I  am  now  '  onviiiced 


1/ETTER  III. 


•3-27 


tii.il  llic  darkest  colours  cannot  be  too  dark 
Tor  tlio  portrait  of  my  spiritual  state.  I  see 
niyself  overspread  with  an  habitual  depravi- 
ty, and  cannot  forbear  cryinjj;  out,  with  the 
abashed  leper,  "Unclean!  Unclean!  Lev. 
xiii.  45.  The  sacred  oracles  in  no  wise 
misrepresent  fallen  man,  when  they  describe 
him  as  altogether  become  abominable.  Job 
XV.  1 6.  They  are  far  from  rmderrating  hu- 
man works,  when  they  denominate  them 
'•  filthy  rags."*  Rags  they  are,  if  we  consi- 
der their  great  imperfections  ;  filthy  rags,  if 
we  advert  to  their  manifold  defilements. 
And  since  the  nature  of  God  is  so  irrecon- 
cilably adverse  to  all  contamination,  since 
the  law  of  God  requires  such  unspotted  per- 
fection, O  !  "  who  can  stand  before  this  ho- 
ly Lord  God,"  I  Sam.  vi.  20 ;  in  any  ac- 
complishments of  their  own  ? 

When  I  farther  reflect,  that  I  have  only 
a  very  obscure  glimpse  of  the  divine  purity, 
and  am  a  mere  novice  in  the  knowledge  of 
my  own  heait  ;  how  am  I  amazed  at  the 
lofty  apprehensions  which  I  once  formed 
concerning  the  dignity  of  my  nature  and  the 
integrity  of  my  conduct !  All  owing  to  igno- 
rance, the  grossest  ignorance  of  myself  and 
the  scriptures.     How  do  I  shuddei'  to  thhik, 


«  Isa.  Ixiv.  6.  Doesnot  Theronmisap|>ly  this  text? 
Can  it  be  intended  to  discredit  the  <|iialincalions  of 
thcuj)rifiht?  Is  it  not  rather  a  brand  set  iijion  the 
works  of  the  wicked;  wliose  very  sacrifices  are  an 
abomination  to  the  Lord  ?  Or,  a  rebuke  given  to  the 
specious  performahces  of  the  hypocrite;  who  is  pre- 
cise in  the  form,  but  destitute  of  the  power  of  godli- 
ness ?  Or,  may  it  not  refer  to  ritual  observances;  in 
contradistinction  to  moral  duties  and  spiritual  ac- 
complishments? 

I'he  disparaging  character  must  not,  I  think,  be 
confined  to  ritual  observances ;  because  it  is  expressly 
saiil,  (ill  uiti-  riffhteotisnesse.'!,  including  every  kind  of 
religious  duty :  Neithercanit  be  appropriated  to  the 
formal  hypocrite,  much  less  to  the  notoriously  wick- 
ed ;  because,  those  very  persons,  who  are  the  subject 
of  this  assertion,  declare,  in  the  context,  "Lord,  we 
are  thy  people,  thou  art  our  Father,  we  shall  be 
saved."  So  that  it  seems  intended  to  stain  tlie  pride 
of  all  human  glory. 

Besides,  the  prophet  speaks  of  himself:  We  are  all 
as  an  unclean  thing;  which,  however  strange  or  un- 
reasonable it  may  seem,  is  the  very  same  charge  to 
which  hepleadsguiltyinanother  place;  "Woe  is  me! 
I  am  undone !  for  I  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips  !"  Not 
that  he  was  defiled  with  any  gross  pollutions;  nay, 
he  was  a  saint  of  the  most  distinguished  lustre,  but 
his  eyes  had  seen  the  King,  the  Lord  of  hosts.  He 
was  under  the  clear  manifestations  of  a  God,  glorious 
in  holiness,  indexible  in  justice,  and  infinite  in  all 
perfections.  Amidst  these  manifestations,  the  impu- 
rity of  his  heart  and  nature  were  not  only  apparent, 
but  glaring  ;  overwhelmed  him  with  abashment,  and, 
till  Christ  was  applied  in  atype,  (Isa.vi.7>)  filled  him 
with  terror. 

In  such  circumstances,  and  under  such  views,  all  our 
moral  virtues  and  evangelical  graces,  all  our  exer- 
risesof  devoticm,  and  acts  of  charity,  will  appear  both 
defective  and  polluted  :  by  no  means  proportioned  to 
the  demands  of  the  law,  nor  sufficient  for  our  recom- 
mendation to  the  Supreme  Lawgiver;  no  more  than 
a  few  tattered  rags  can  claim  the  character  or  ner- 
forin  the  services  of  a  complete  suit ;  no  more  tnan 
a  few  filthy  rags  are  fit  to  dress  the  bride  for  her  nup- 
tials, or  the  courtier  for  a  birthnight. 

Hut  there  is  a  righteousness — bics-scd  be  divine 
grace! — s)i()tlessly  pure  and  c  onMiMiniiitely  excciU'nt; 
a  righleoiisne.-s  Wliiili  aiisuers.ill  th.u  tlif  Creator  rc- 
<|uircs,  and  supplies  all  that  the  creature  needs.  To 
prove  this  momentous  point,  and  to  display  this  un- 
speakable gift,  is  the  detiijjn  of  the  following  sheets. 


that,  in  expecting  justilic.ilion  from  theliiw. 

1  was  resting  the  welfare  of  my  immortal 
soul,  not  on  the  foundation  of  a  rock,  but 
on  the  point  of  a  dagger.  I  was  going  to 
the  decisive  tribunal,  flushed  with  the  falsest 
hopes,  and  charged  with  a  set  of  glittering 
sins ;    going,     like    poor    deluded     Uriah, 

2  Sam.  xi.  14,  15,  not  with  any  valid  cie- 
dentials,  but  with  "  the  ministration  of 
death,"  2  Cor.  iii.  9,  in  my  hand. 

Though  I  camiot  but  acknowledge  the 
arrogance  of  these  pretensions,  yet  loath, 
very  loath,  is  my  pride  to  renounce  the 
pleasing  absurdity.  Self-love  has  searched, 
and  searched  again,  for  something  excellent. 
It  would  fain  make  a  better  ap])earance,  and 
can  hartlly  brook  the  humiliiitioii  of  implor- 
ing all  sub  Jorma  pauperis.*  With  what  re- 
luctance is  a  sinner  brought  to  confess  him- 
self sinful  in  every  duty,  sinful  in  every  ca- 
pacity? Strange  perveiseness !  But  the 
charge  is  undem'able.  However  utiwilling, 
I  must  plead  guilty.  "  Thou  art  weighed 
in  the  balances,  and  foimd  wanting,"  Han. 
V.  27,  is  evidently  written  on  all  I  am,  all 
I  have,  all  I  do.  And  if  I  am  thus  defec- 
tive, even  in  my  own  estimation ;  if  I 
iim  utterly  condemned  at  the  bar  of  my  owtt 
conscience,  "  what  then  shall  I  do,  when 
God  riseth  up  ?  and  when  he  visiteth,  what 
shall  I  answer  him  ?  Job  xxxi.  11. 

I  now  see  the  necessity  of  an  imputed 
righteousness.  Without  some  such  object 
for  my  trust,  I  am  undone-  I  long,  there- 
fore, to  hear  your  arguments  in  its  behalf. 
And  I  must  declare  to  you,  if  it  can  l>e  sa- 
tisfactorily proved  from  the  scriptiu'es,  it  is 
the  most  comfortable  doctrine  in  the  world, 
and  worthy  of  all  acceptation. 

A  letter  upon  this  subject  would  be  a 
singtdar  favour,  and,  I  hope,  an  equal  bless- 
ing, to  your  obliged  and  affectionate 

Theuon. 


LETTER  III. 

ASPASIO  TO   TUKUON. 

Dear  Theuon, — Though  all  your  let- 
ters give  me  pleasure,  none  was  ever  so 
highly  pleasing  as  your  last.  I  look  upon 
it  with  the  same  secret  joy,  as  when  a  com- 
passionate j)hysiciau  observes  some  very 
favourable  syinptoms  in  the  crisis  of  a  be- 
loved patient's  distem])er. 

What  you  ask,  I  shall,  without  any  far- 
ther preface,  attempt  to  execute.  If  my  at-- 
tempt  proves  satisfactory  to  your  judgment, 
I  am  sure  it  will  be  the  most  likely  means 


*  This  is  under  the  character  of  a  pool  destitute, 
or  as  a  bcgger  sues  for  h;s  alms. 


328 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


of  healing  your  conscience,  and  calming 
your  fears.  When  we  perceive  the  odious 
depravity  of  our  nature ;  when  we  discern 
the  hoiTible  iniquity  of  our  lives,  and  are 
sensible  of  that  tremendous  wrath  and  ever- 
lasting vengeance  which  are  due  to  such 
guiltj'  creatures  ;  then  nothing  can  be  found 
that  will  speak  effectual  peace,  nothing  that 
will  administer  solid  comfort,  but  only  the 
vicarious  sufferings  and  the  imputed  righte- 
ousness of  Jesus  Christ. 

To  this  purpose  speaks  one  of  the  wisest 
and  best  of  spiritual  guides ;  "  Has  sin 
abounded  ?"  as  undoubtedly  it  has,  in  our 
heart  and  our  life  ;  "  grace  has  much  more 
abounded,"  in  the  obedience  and  the  merits 
of  our  Redeemer.  Nay,  "has  sin  reigned?" 
exerted  its  malignant  power  in  the  most  ex- 
tensive and  most  destructive  manner,  ren- 
dering us  subject  unto  death,  both  tempor- 
al and  eternal  ?  "  Even  so  has  grace  reign- 
ed ;"  exerted  its  benign  efficacy,  and  in  a 
manner  yet  more  triumphant ;  not  only  res- 
cuing us  from  guilt  and  ruin,  but  restoring 
us  to  everlasting  life  and  glory ;  and  all  this 
through  the  righteousness,  the  complete 
meritorious  righteousness,  brought  in  -"  by 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  Rom.  v.  21. 

You  inquire  after  the  proofs  of  this  im- 
puted righteousness.  From  a  multitude  I 
shall  select  a  few  ;  sufficient,  I  hope,  to 
make  it  appear,  that  this  is  the  declared  doc- 
trine of  our  chiu'ch,  and  the  avowed  belief 
of  her  most  eminent  divines  ;  that  it  is  co- 
piously revealed  through  the  whole  Scrip- 
tures, revealed  in  many  express  passages, 
and  deducible  from  a  variety  of  instructive 
similitudes. 

Hear  the  language  of  our  Common 
Prayer,  in  a  very  affecting  and  solemn  ad- 
dress to  the  Almighty  !  "  We  do  not  pre- 
sume to  come  to  this  thy  table,  O  merciful 
Lord,  tnisting  in  our  own  righteousness." 
If  we  may  not,  if  we  dare  not,  rely  on  our 
own  righteousness  when  we  approach  the 
eucharistic  table,  much  less  may  we  depend 
upon  it  when  we  are  summoned  to  the  de- 
cisive tribunal.  Should  you  ask,  on  what 
we  are  to  depend  ?  The  exhortation  to  the 
communion  furnishes  an  answer ;  "  On  the 
meritorious  death  and  passion  of  Christ, 
whereby  alone  we  obtain  remission  of  sins, 
and  are  made  partakers  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven." 

The  Collect  appointed  for  the  festival  of 
circumcision,  has  this  remarkable  introduc- 
tion ;  "  Almighty  God,  whose  blessed  Son 
was  obedient  to  the  law  for  man."  In  what 
sense,  or  with  what  propriety,  can  this  be 
affirmed,  unless  Christ's  perfect  obedience 
be  referable  to  us^  and  accepted  instead  of 
ours  ?  On  any  other  interpretation, '  I  should 
think  he  was  obedient,  not  for  man,  but  for 
himself. 

Should  the  artful  critic  give  some  other 


turn  to  these  passages,  it  will  avail  him  l)ut 
little  ;  because  the  church,  her  own  best 
expositor,  has  explained  the  meaning  of  such 
phrases,  and  put  the  matter  beyond  all 
doubt.  In  her  eleventh  article  she  says, 
"  We  are  accounted  righteous  before  God, 
only  for  the  merits  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ."  The  doctrine  relating  to 
pardon  of  sin  had  been  stated  in  a  preced- 
ing article.  This  displays  the  method 
whereby  sinners  may  appear  righteous  in 
the  eye  of  God  and  in  the  court  of  heaven, 
so  as  to  recover  the  divine  favour  and 
obtain  a  title  to  eternal  bliss.  This  is  done, 
not  by  any  native  righteousness,  not  by  any 
acquired  righteousness,  but  by  an  imputed 
righteousness.  Were  we  justified  by  either 
of  the  former  methods,  it  would  not  have 
been  said,  we  are  accounted,  but  we  are 
righteous.  They  are  so  far  from  constitut- 
ing our  reconciling  and  justifying  righteous- 
ness, that  they  have  no  share  in  it,  contri- 
bute nothing  towards  it,  are  totally  excluded 
from  it.  We  are  accounted  righteous,  and 
accepted  as  such,  only  (mark  the  expression) 
only  through  the  meritorious  obedience,  and 
propitiating  blood  of  our  great  Mediator. 

The  Homilies  are,  if  it  be  possible,  still 
more  explicit  and  more  cogent.  In  the  Ho- 
mily concerning  the  salvation  of  mankind, 
we  read  the  following  words  ;  "  The 
apostle  toucheth  three  things,  which  must 
go  together  in  our  justification  :  On  God's 
part,  his  great  mercy  and  grace  :  On  Christ's 
part,  the  satisfaction  of  God's  justice,  or  the 
price  of  our  redemption,  by  the  offering  of 
his  body,  and  the  shedding  of  his  blood,  with 
fulfilling  of  the  law  perfectly  :  On  our  part, 
true  and  lively  faith  in  the  merits  of  Jesus 
Christ,  which  yet  is  not  ours,  but  by  God's 
working  in  us."  You  see,  according  to  the 
judgment  of  our  venerable  reformers,  not 
only  the  offering  of  Christ's  body,  and  shed- 
ding of  Christ's  blood,  but  also  his  perfect 
fulfilling  of  the  law,  are  the  adequate  price 
of  oiu'  redemption.  All  these  act  conjoint- 
ly ;  they  sweetly  harmonize  in  the  great  and 
glorious  work.  To  suppose  their  disunion, 
is  a  doctrinal  mistake,  somewhat  like  that 
practical  error  of  the  Papists,  in  severing 
the  sacramental  wine  from  the  sacramental 
bread ;  administering  to  the  laity  the  sym- 
bols of  the  slaughtered  body,  but  mthhold- 
ing  the  symbols  of  the  streaming  blood. 

There  are  other  clauses  in  the  same  Ho- 
mily, which  set  the  seal  of  the  chiurch  to 
our  sentiments.  I  shall  content  myself  with 
transcribing  one  from  the  conclusion. 
"  Christ,"  says  that  form  of  sound  words, 
"  is  the  righteousness  of  all  them  that  do 
truly  believe.  Fie,  for  them,  paid  their  ran- 
som by  his  death.  He,  for  them,  fulfilled 
the  law  in  his  life.  So  that  now,  in  him, 
and  by  him,  every  true  Christian  may  be 
called  a  fulfilkr  ci'  t!ie   law  ;  forasmuch  as 


LETTER  III. 


329 


tliat  wliicli  tlieir  infirmity  lacked,  Christ's 
rigliteousiicss  hath  .su])plicd."  This  aiitlio- 
rity  is  as  clear,  as  the  doctrine  authorized  is 
comfortable.  May  the  former  sway  our 
j.udgment !  may  the  latter  cheer  our  hearts  ! 

The  Homily  on  Christ's  nativity  informs 
the  reader,  that  the  design  of  our  Lord's 
incarnation  was — "  to  give  light  unto  the 
world,  and  call  sinners  to  repentance ;  to 
fullil  the  law  for  us,  and  become  the  i)ropi- 
tiation  for  our  sins ;  to  cast  out  the  ])rincc 
of  this  world,  and  destroy  the  ivorks  of  the 
devil."  We  have  all  broke  the  law  ;  we  are 
all  miable  to  keep  the  law  ;  therefore  the 
blessed  Jesus  fulfilled  the  law ;  fulfilled  it 
in  each  and  every  of  its  demands  ;  fulfilled 
it  in  the  highest  degree  of  perfection  ;  and 
what  is  of  all  considerations  most  delightful, 
fiiliilled  it  for  us.  His  obedience  took  the 
place  of  what  we  were  obliged  to  perform 
under  the  covenant  of  works  ;  and  is  not 
only  tiie  meritorious,  but  also  the  constitu 
ent  cause  of  our  justification. 

So  that,  if  there  be  any  worthiness  in  our 
Lord's  most  holy  nature,  any  merit  in  his 
exercise  of  the  sublimest  virtues,  completed 
by  his  submission  to  the  most  ignominious 
sufferings  and  tormenting  death,  then,  ac- 
cording to  this  standard-system  of  orthodox 
divinity,  these  are  the  ground,  these  are  the 
substance  of  a  sinner's  justification.  And, 
according  to  the  dictates  of  the  most  unbi- 
assed reason,  they  are  the  best,  the  surest 
ground  that  can  either  be  wished  or  ima- 
gined. 

Does  it  not  from  the  preceding  quotations 
a])i)t'ar,  that  the  doctrine  of  justification, 
through  the  imputed  righteousness  of  our 
Redeemer,  is  far  from  being  disclaimed  by 
tlie  established  church?  I  am  sorry,  but 
constrained  to  own,  that  we  rarely  find  any 
consideralde  strictures  of  this  great  evange- 
lical pectdiarity  in  our  modern  theological 
discourses.  Yet  there  have  been  preachers 
of  the  highest  repute  for  learning,  for  judg- 
ment, and  for  piety,  who  professedly  main- 
tained this  grand  truth  of  the  gospel. 

The  devout  Bishop  Beveridge,  in  his 
"  Private  Tiioughts,"  has  left  upon  record 
the  following  very  remarkable  acknowledg- 
ifi'iit,  which,  if  it  suited  his  state  of  eminent 
holniess,  cannot  be  too  humbling,  my  dear 
Tlitron,  for  your  lijjs  and  for  mine.  "  I  do 
not  remember,  neither  do  I  believe,  that  I 
ever  prayed,  in  all  my  lifetime,  with  that 
reverence,  or  heard  with  that  attention,  or 
leceived  the  sacrament  with  that  faith,  or  did 
any  work  with  that  jjure  heart  and  single 
eye,  as  I  ought  to  have  done.  Insomuch, 
that  I  look  upon  all  my  righteousness  l)ut 
as  filthy  rags  ;  and  it  is  in  the  robes  only  of 
the  righteousness  of  the  Son  of  (Jod,  that  I 
dare  ap])ear  before  tlie  IMajesty  of  iicaven." 

The  fervent  and  allcctionate  L'i.'ihnp  lioj)- 


kins*  speaks  in  perfect  consonance  with  his 
brother  of  St.  Asaph.  "  The  law  was 
given  us,  not  that  we  slioidd  seek  justifica- 
tion by  the  observance  of  it,  but  finding  it 
impossible  to  be  justified  by  fulfilling  it,  we 
should  thereby  be  driven  to  (Christ's  righte- 
ousness, who  hath  both  fulfilled  it  in  him- 
self, and  satisfied  for  our  transgressing  of 
it  ;  and  therefore  saith  the  apostle,  "  The 
law  was  a  schoolmaster  to  bring  us  to  Christ, 
that  we  may  be  justified  by  faith."  To 
this  end  it  was  promulgated,  that  seeing  the  \ 
strictness  of  its  precepts,  the  rigour  of  its 
threatenings,  and  withal  being  convinced  of 
our  impotence  to  fulfil  its  commands,  we 
might  be  urged,  by  its  terrors,  to  fly  to 
Christ,  and  find  that  righteousness  in  him 
which  may  answer  all  the  demands  of  the  law." 

Bishop  Reynolds,!  styled  by  his  contem- 
poraries, and  not  without  reason,  "  a  walk- 
ing library,"  bears  his  testimony  in  the  fol- 
lowing words  :  "  Christ  as  our  surety  paid 
our  debt,  underwent  the  curse  due  to  our 
sins,  and  bare  them  all  in  his  own  body  on 
the  tree ;  became  subject  to  the  law  for  us, 
and  rej)resentatively  in  our  stead  fulfilled  all 
the  righteousness  the  law  required,  active 
and  passive.  For  sin  being  once  commit- 
ed,  there  must  be  a  double  act  of  justifica- 
tion ;  the  suffering  of  the  curse,  and  the 
fulfilling  of  righteousness  anew.  The  one, 
a  satisfaction  for  the  injury  we  have  done  to 
God  as  our  Judge  ;  the  other,  the  perform- 
ance of  a  service  which  we  owe  unto  him 
as  our  Makei'-" 

To  this  illustrious  triumvirate,  let  me 
join  Bishop  Davenant,  who  for  his  great 
abilities,  and  unquestionable  rntcgrity,  was 
a]>pointed  one  of  our  religious  plenipotentia- 
ries at  the  renowned  Synod  of  Dort.  In 
his  very  valuable  exposition  of  the  epistle 
to  the  Colossians,  he  wrtes  to  this  effect : 
"  Ye  are  complete  in  Christ.  Ye  are 
furnished,  in  that  all-sufficient  Redeemer, 
with  whatever  is  requisite  to  everlasting 
salvation.  With  wisdom  ;  since  it  is  the 
consummation  of  this  noble  endowment,  to 
know  Christ,  and  him  crucified.  With 
righteousness  ;  because  he  has  perfectly  sa- 
tisfied the   law,J  and   thoroughly   expiated 


*  See  his  Sermon  on  John  vii.  19. 

t  See  his  treatise,  entitled,  the  Life  of  Christ, 
which,  as  well  as  all  his  other  works,  abound  with 
striking  sentiments,  have  much  elegance  of  diction, 
a  copious  variety  of  learning,  and  a  lively  animating 
spirit  of  evangelical  piety. 

t  In  this  respect  ]irincipally  (says  our  author,  en- 
larging upon  the  text)  are  believers  complete ;  because, 
though  destitute  of  any  righteousness  that  may  pro- 
perly be  called  their  own,  Christ  has  graciously  en- 
riched them  with  his.  r'irf.  Davknant  !«  epist.  ad 
CitloKs.  cap.  ii.  com.  10. 

Let  me  beg  leave  to  intim.ite,  that  this  exposition 
of  the  epistle  to  the  Colossians,  for  perspicuity  of 
style,  and  accuracy  of  method,  for  judgment  in  dis- 
ci rning,  and  lidelity  in  representing  the  apostle's 
nuaumi,',  for  strength  of  argument  in  refuting  errors, 
and  felicity  of  invention  in  deilucing  practical  doc- 
trines, tending  both  totheestablishment  of  faith,  and 
the  ctiUivation  of  holiness— is,  I  think,  infcricrtono 


1)30 


THE  RON  AND  ASPASJO. 


our  guilt.  With  sanctification ;  because 
his  Spirit,  dwelling  in  our  hearts,  mortifies 
our  corrupt  affections,  and  renews  the  soul 
after  the  image  of  its  Creator." 

Let  me  bring  up  the  rear  with  a  testi- 
mony, which  for  clearness,  solidity,  and  a 
full  representation  of  the  evangelical  doc- 
trine, might  very  justly  have  claimed  a  place 
in  the  van.  It  is  taken  from  an  author, 
whom  the  general  consent  of  our  nation  has 
distinguished  with  the  title  of  "judicious." 
The  judicious  Hooker,  in  a  treatise  on  jus- 
tification, says — "  It  is  a  childish  cavil  our 
adversaries  so  greatly  please  themselves 
with,  exclaiming,  that  we  tread  all  Christian 
virtues  under  our  feet,  because  we  teach, 
that  faith  alone  justifieth.  Whereas,  by  this 
speech,  we  never  meant  to  exclude  either 
hope  or  charity  from  being  always  joined  as 
inseparable  mates  with  faith  in  the  man  that 
is  justified  ;  or  works  from  being  added,  as 
necessary  duties,  required  of  every  justified 
man  ;  but  to  show,  that  faith  is  the  only 
hand  which  putteth  on  Christ  to  justifica- 
tion ;  and  Christ  the  only  garment  which, 
being  so  put  on,  covereth  tlie  shame  of 
our  defiled  nature,  hideth  the  imperfec- 
tion of  our  worlds,  and  prescrveth  us  blame- 
less in  the  sight  of  God  :  before  whom, 
otherwise,  tlie  weakness  of  our  faith  were 
cause  sufficient  to  make  us  culpable,  yea,  to 
shut  us  out  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  where 
nothing  that  is  not  absolute  can  enter." 

You  will  allow  the  sagacious  Bishoj) 
Sanderson*  to  sum  up  the  evidence  ;  or  ra- 
ther, to  make  an  important  remark  on  the 
whole  of  the  controversy.  That  great  light 
of  the  church,  both  in  casuistical  and  })rac- 
tical  divinity,  observes — "  The  tidings  of  a 
Redeemer  must  be  blessed  and  welcome 
nevi's,  to  those  that  are  sensible  of  their  own 
poverty,  and  take  it  of  grace."  Our  eagle- 
eyed  divine  penetrates  into  the  true  cause 
of  the  prevailing  averseness  to  this  evangeli- 
cal doctrine.  It  is  founded  on  the  state  of 
the  heart,  more  than  upon  any  force  of  ar- 
gument. People  are  but  little,  if  at  all, 
sensible  of  their  spiritual  and  moral  indi- 
gence ;  of  the  defects  which  depreciate,  and 
the  defilements  which  sully,  whatever  they 
have,  and  whatever  they  do.  Nay,  strong- 
ly tinctured  with  pride,  they  wouhl  be  them- 
selves the  Alpha,  and  suffer  the  blessed 
Jesus  to  be  no  more  than  the  Omega,  in 
procuring  their  eternal  salvation.  There- 
fore they  can  hardly  be  reconciled  to  the 
humbling  character  of  an  eleemosynary; 
one  who  lives  wholly  upon  the  alms  of  the 
gospel,  and  is  dependent  upon  grace  for  his 
all. 

WTiereas,  was  this  grand  obstacle  once 


writinijof  the  kind;  ami  richly  deserves  to  be  read, 
to  be  studied,  to  be  imit,^led  by  our  young  divines. 
•  See  his  bermou  on  Isa.  liii,  3. 


removed;  were  men  convinced  of  sin,  of 
exceeding  sinfulness  in  their  worst  estate, 
and  of  remaining  sinfulness  in  their  best ; 
they  would  soon  be  "  convinced  of  righte- 
ousness," John  xvi.  8,  of  the  absolute  ne- 
cessity and  inestimable  worth  of  a  Redeem- 
er's righteousness.  They  would  no  longer 
dispute  against  it,  but  cordially  receive  it ; 
entirely  rely  on  it ;  and  adore  the  goodness, 
the  transcendent  and  unutterable  goodness 
of  God,  in  providing  it. 

I  think,  in  one  of  our  conferences,  I  un- 
dertook to  produce  my  vouchers  from  the 
ancient  fathers.  Let  me  now  subjoin  two 
or  three  attestations  of  this  kind.  From 
one  of  which  you  will  perceive,  that  those 
early  writers  had  a  considerable  degree  of 
clearness  upon  the  point.  From  the  other 
you  will  see,  that  far  from  rejecting  the 
doctrine,  they  embrace  it  with  delight  and 
rapture. — And  if  you  will  admit  of  the  last, 
you  cannot  be  startled  at  any  thing  which 
I  shall  advance  upon  the  subject.  Let  me 
only  premise,  in  general,  that  if  those  au- 
thors are  not  so  copious  and  explicit  with 
regard  to  the  imputation  of  active  righte- 
ousness, they  abound  in  pas.sages  which 
ennce  the  substitution  of  Christ  in  our 
stead  :  passages  which  disclaim  all  dejien- 
dence  on  any  duties  of  our  own,  and  fix  tiie 
hopes  of  a  believer  entirely  u])on  the  me- 
rits of  his  Saviour.  AVheii  this  is  tiie  case, 
I  am  very  little  solicitous  about  any  ])arti- 
cular  forms  of  expression  ;  and  far  from 
being  angry,  even  though  the  woids  wiiich 
I  think  most  significant  are  not  retained. 

Clemens — an  intimate  acquaintance  of 
St.  Paul's,  and  whose  "  name  was  in  the 
book  of  life,"  Phil  iv.  3,  in  his  truly  excel- 
lent epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  assures  that 
people  ,*  we  are  not,  in  any  lesjject,  or  in 
any  degree,  justified  by  ourselves,  but 
wholly  by  Jesus  Christ ;  "  not  by  our  own 
wisdom  or  prudence,"  which  could  never 
find  out  the  way ;  "  not  by  the  piety  of  our 
hearts,  or  works  of  righteousness  performed 
in  our  lives,"  which  could  never  be  suffi- 
cient for  the  purpose  ;  "  but  by  faith;" the 
one  invariable  method,  "  by  which  the  Al- 
mighty Sovereign  has  justified  all"  his  j)eo- 
ple,   "  ever  since  the  world  began." 

Justin,  who  was  first  a  Gentile  jihiloso- 
pher,  then  an  eminent  Christian,  and  at  hist 
a  martyr  for  the  truth,  speaks  more  fully  io 
the  point  ;t — "  What  else  could  cover  "oar 

Tl^a;,  <ro(pia;,  n  (ruvifftn;,  ■/,  iuir<(iiias,  »  icyaiv  at 
Ka.Tii^yaTa.f/.i^a  £»  onornnri  xa^-a.;'  a-XKa.  i.a 
ri-ii  vifTioi;,  t'l  jj;  Ttuiras  th;  a-r  •  iumo;  » 
vctMTOK^aTU^  ©£«}  ihiKaiuffiv.  1  Epist.  ad  Corinth- 
— This  quotation  is  explained,  as  well  as  translated. 
But  that  every  reader  may  distinguish  the  text  from 
the  paraphrase,  the  first  is  printed  within  inverted 
commas. 

■)•    Ti  aXXo    Trf   ttfir^Titci    7\fjt,o)t    Y^wn6rt  xa- 


LETTER  IV. 


331 


sins,  l)ut  the  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ  ? 
By  what  possible  means  eouhi  we,  unriglit- 
eous  and  unholy  creatures,  be  justified,  but 
only  by  the  interposition  of  the  Son  of 
God  in  our  behalf?" — Having  in  this  clause 
made  a  profession  of  his  faith,  the  good 
man,  on  the  contemplation  of  such  a  privi- 
lege, breaks  out  into  a  kind  of  holy  trans- 
port !  "  O  sweet  and  delightful  exchange  ! 
a  dispensation  unsearchably  wise  and  gra- 
cious !  benefits  quite  unexpected,  and  rich 
beyond  all  our  hojjcs  !  that  the  sin  of  many 
should  be  hid  by  one  righteous  person,  .and 
that  the  righteousness  of  one  should  justify 
many  ti'ansgressors." 

The  following  words  are  remarkably 
strong,  and  the  sentiments  peculiarly  bold. 
But  they  coine  from  the  pen  of  the  finest 
writer  in  ecclesiastical  antiquity.  They  have 
the  great  name  and  venerable  character  of 
St  Chrysostom  fur  their  recommendatory 
preface.  *  "  Fear  not,  says  he,  on  ac- 
count of  any  of  thy  past  transgressions  of 
the  law,  when  once  thou  hast  fled  by  faith 
to  Jesus  Christ.  The  most  enormous  and 
the  most  destructive  violation  of  the  law  is, 
to  be  withheld,  by  the  consciousness  of  any 
guilt  whatever,  from  believing  on  Christ. 
When  thou  actest  faith  on  him,  thou  hast 
fulfilled,  I  might  say  more  than  fulfilled  the 
law  :  For  thou  hast  received  a  better  right- 
eousness than  it  could  ever  require ;  thou 
art  possessed  of  a  better  obedience  than  any 
creature  could  possibly  pay." 

Two  or  three  witnesses  of  distinguish- 
ed ability,  and  undoubted  veracity,  are  a 
sufficient  confirmation  of  any  cause.  For 
this  reason,  and  to  avoid  a  tiresome  pro- 
lixity, I  have  set  aside  a  multitude  of 
voices,  which,  from  the  writings  of  our 
own  and  foreign  divines,  are  ready  to  poiu" 
their  united  evidence  ;  and  lest  the  business 
of  quotation,  though  sparingly  managed, 
should  seem  dry  and  tedious,  I  will  relieve 
your  weariness,  and  enliven  the  collection, 
by  an  extract  from  the  prince  of  English 
])oetry.  JMichael,  the  j)rophetic  archangel, 
mentioning  the  destructive  consequences 
of  the  fall,  and  asserting  the  Godhead  of 
tliat  glorious  Person  who  undertook  to  be 
the  repairer  of  this  deadly  breach,  adds. 


"vitiToy  th;  uioum  y,lJt,i  X.    i  a  ijiiis,  »  £v  TU  uioi 

r«  (-)£«;  il  Til's,  TATKRIAS  KATAA- 

AAI'H^,  a»  TJj;  aiii,t-^tia.(TTH^nfJ'-'>i^y'<ti  u  raiv 
av^diioKfiruiv  d|  ivo;  woXXh:^  avof/.\is  ^tKaiaaYi, 
F.fint.  fid  Diof;/).  Though  Du  Pin  questions  the  au- 
thority of  this  ei)istle,  he  allows  it  to  have  been  writ- 
ten by  an  ancient  hand.  Dr.  Cave,  as  capable  a  judge, 
thinks  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  but  it  is  the  ge- 
nuine work  of  Justin. 

*  JSirt  T/vi/v  ^oSrJns,  us  tov  tofLoi  Tu^aSxivuv, 

Caivus  on  "I  auTOi  th)  Xjjitts;  /xri  ■jmTiUdni'  '■'» 
ttv  <!riar  ufns  auru,  khxuvov  frXr^^uti/.t  **'  foX- 
Xu  TrXiov  n  iKiXiviTi'  -ttoXXm  ycc^  fHi^ovM  otKxio- 
oviriii  iXaZ  $•      llvmil,  xvii.  in  x.adUuni, 


Which  he,  who  comes  thy  .'Saviour,  shall  secure. 
Not  by  rttstroyinf!  .Satan,  but  his  works. 
In  thee  and  in  thy  seed.     Nor  can  this  be. 
But  by  fulfilling  (that  which  thou  didst  want) 
Obedience  to  the  law  of  God,  imposed 
On  penalty  of  death  ;  and  suffering  death. 
The  penalty  to  thy  transgression  due ; 
And  due  to  theirs,  which  out  of  thine  will  grow. 
So  only  can  high  justice  restappaid. 

A;ito«,bookl2, 1.  393. 

Here  then  is  the  express  determination 
of  our  Homilies,  supported  by  the  authority 
of  our  Articles,  established  by  the  concur- 
rence of  our  Liturgy,  still  farther  ratified  by 
the  unanimous  attestation  of  several  cele- 
brated divines,  whose  lives  were  the  bright- 
est ornament  to  our  church,  and  whose  writ- 
ings are  the  most  unexceptionable  interpre- 
tation of  her  meaning.  As  a  capital  to 
crown  and  complete  this  grand  column,  su- 
pervenes the  declaration  of  the  ancient  fa- 
thers, those  who  flourished,  and  with  the 
highest  renown,  in  the  first  and  purest  ages 
of  Christianity.  So  that,  if  great  authori- 
ties caiTy  any  weight,  if  illustrious  names 
challenge  any  regard,  this  tenet  comes  at- 
tended and  dignified  with  very  considerable 
credentials. 

Yet  I  will  venture  to  affirm,  that  all  these, 
considerable  as  they  appear,  are  the  least  of 
those  testimonials  which  recommend  the 
doctrine  to  my  Theron's  acceptance,  and 
which  have  gained  it  admittance  into  the 
heart  of, 

His  most  affectionate 

ASPASIO. 


LETTER  IV. 

AspASio  TO  Therqk. 

Dear  Theron, — The  family  in  which 
I  have  the  satisfaction  to  reside,  tlunigh  re- 
markable for  their  genteel  figure  and  ample 
fortune,  are  still  more  amiably  distinguished 
by  their  benevolence,  hospitality,  and  cha- 
rity. As  they  live  at  a  distance  from  the 
market  town,  the  lady  has  converted  one 
apartment  of  her  house  into  a  little  dispen- 
satory, and  stocked  it  with  some  of  the 
most  common,  the  most  needed,  and  most  sa- 
lutary medicines,  which,  in  cases  of  ordinary 
indisposition,  she  distributes  to  her  indigent 
neighbours  with  singular  compassion,  and 
with  no  small  success.  This  fine  morning, 
Emilia  has  ordered  some  skilfid  hands  into 
the  fields,  to  cull  their  healing  simples,  and 
lay  up  a  magazine  of  healili  for  the  afliicted 
poor.  Camillns  is  withdrawn  to  receive 
his  rents,  and  settle  accounts  with  his  te- 
nants. 

Suppose  we  act  in  concert  with  these  va- 
luable persons.  Suppose  we  range  the  de- 
lightful fields  of  scrij)tin-e,  and  form  a  col- 
lection, not  of  salutil'crous  herbs,  but  of  in- 


332 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


estimable  texts  ;  such  as  may  be  of  sovereign 
efficacy  to  assuage  the  anguish  of  a  guilty 
conscience,  and  impart  saving  health  to  the 
distempered  soul.  Suppose  we  open  the 
mines  of  divine  inspiration,  and  enrich  our- 
selves, not  with  the  gold  of  Ophir,  but  with 
the  unsearchable  treasures  of  Christ ;  or 
with  that  perfect  righteousness  of  oiu"  Re- 
deemer, which  is  incomparably  more  preci- 
ous than  the  revenues  of  a  county,  or  the 
produce  of  Peru. 

In  pleading  for  imputed  righteousness, 
we  have  already  urged  the  authority  of  our 
established  church,  and  the  suffrage  of  her 
most  eminent  divines.  The  opinion  of  ex 
cellent  writers,  which  has  been  the  result 
of  much  learning,  great  attention,  and  ear- 
nest prayer,  is  no  contemptible  evidence. 
Yet  we  must  always  reserve  the  casting 
voice  for  those  infallible  umpires  the  pro- 
phets and  apostles.  "  If  we  receive,"  with 
a  differential  regard,  "  the  witness  of  men ; 
the  witness  of  God  is  greater,  1  John  v.  9, 
and  challenges  the  most  implicit  submission  ; 
which  remark  naturally  leads  me  to  the  in- 
tended subject  of  this  epistle,  or  rather  calls 
upon  me  to  fulfil  my  late  engagement,  and 
show  that  the  above-mentioned  doctrine  is 
copiously  revealed  through  the  whole  pro- 
cess of  the  Scriptures. 

Let  me  detach  a  very  significant  portion 
from  the  epistle  to  the  Romans ;  which, 
though  little  inferior  to  a  decisive  proof,  is 
produced  only  as  an  introduction  to  others  ; 
"  Now  the  righteousness  of  God  without 
the  law,  is  manifested,  being  witnessed  by 
th(!  law  and  the  prophets  ;  even  the  righte- 
ousness of  God,  which  is  by  faith  of 
Jesus  Christ  unto  all,  and  upon  all  them 
that  believe,"  Rom.  iii.  21,  22.  The  righte- 
ousness of  God  signifies  that  righteousness 
which  the  incarnate  God  wrought  out  in 
his  own  all-glorious  person.*  It  is  styled 
the  righteousness  of  God  by  way  of  super- 
lative pre-eminence,  in  opposition  to  any 
righteousness  of  our  own,  and  in  contra- 
distinction to  the  righteousness  of  all  crea- 
tures whatever.  This  righteousness  is 
without  the  law.  Its  efficacy  has  no  de- 
pendence on,  its  merit  receives  no  addition 
from  any  conformity  of  our  practice  to  the 


»  This  explication,  or  something  to  the  same  pur- 
pose has  occurred  already.  But  it  is  hoped,  that  the 
candid  reader  will  not  condemn  the  repetition,  as  a 
disagreeable  and  jejune  tautology.— Because  it  is  so 
consonant  to  the  practice  of  our  great  apostle,  whore- 
peats  the  term,  reinculcates  the  doctrine,  and  hardly 
knows  how  to  desist  from  the  favourite  topic,  like  one 
who  was  quite  enamoured  with  the  subject,  who 
found  miisic  in  the  words,  and  whose  happiness  was 
bound  up  in  the  blessing.  Because  it  is  conformable 
to  another  and  a  greater  example.  The  Lord  Jeho- 
vah himself,  within  the  compass  of  one  chapter,  once 
and  again,  yea,  a  third  and  a  fourth  time,  styles  this 
wonderful  obedience,  my  righteousness.  As  though  the 
God  of  infinite  perfection  glorified  in  it,  thought 
himself  most  eminently  magnified  by  it,  and  was  jca 
lous  to  have  all  the  honour  resulting  from  it.  Stt 
Isaiah  ii. 


divine  law  ;  being  complete,  absolutely  com- 
plete in  itself,  and  altogether  sufficient  to 
procure  the  reconciliation  and  acceptance  of 
sinners.  This  righteousness  is  "  witnessed 
by  the  law  and  the  prophets  ;"  receives  an 
uniform  attestation  from  the  various  writ- 
ings of  the  Old  Testament.  To  investi- 
gate which  attestation,  to  examine  its  per- 
tinency, and  weigh  its  sufficiency,  is  our  pre- 
sent pleasing  business. 

We  may  begin  with  that  gracious  declar- 
ation made  to  the  first  traiigressors  ;  "  The 
seed  of  the  woman  shall  bniise  the  ser- 
pent's head,''  Gen.  iii.  15,  shall  destroy  the 
works  of  the  devil,  and  retrieve  whatever 
was  lost  by  his  malicious  artifices.  *  How 
could  this  be  effected,  but  by  restoring  that 
righteousness  which  for  a  while  our  first 
parents  possessed :  which  they  ought  al- 
\^•ays  to  have  held  fast ;  but  from  which 
they  so  soon  and  so  unhappily  swerved. 
Take  the  position  in  the  right  sense,  and 
Christianity  is,  if  not  entirely,  yet  very  near- 
ly as  old  as  the  creation.  It  was  compre- 
hended in  this  blessed  promise,  as  the  sta- 
mina of  the  largest  plants  are  contained  in 
the  substance  of  their  respective  seeds  : 
every  subsequent  revelation  being  no  more 
than  a  gradual  evolution  of  this  grand  evan- 
gelical principle  ;  acting  like  the  vegetative 
powers  of  nature,  which  in  rearing  an  oak, 
with  all  its  spread  of  branches,  only  expand 
the  tunicles,  and  fill  up  the  vessels  of  the 
acorn. 

This  doctrine  seems  to  have  been  typical- 
ly taught  by  the  remarkable  manner  of 
clothing  our  first  parents.  All  they  coidd 
do  for  their  own  recovery  was  like  the  patch- 
ed and  beggarly  maiitle  of  fig-leaves  :  This 
they  relinquish,  and  God  himself  furnishes 
them  with  apparel.  Gen.  iii.  21.  Animals 
are  slain,  not  for  food  but  sacrifice ;  and 
the  naked  criminals  are  arrayed  with  the 
skins  of  those  slaughtered  beasts.  The  vic- 
tims figured  the  exj)iation  of  Christ's  death, 
the  clothing  typified  the  imputation  of  his 
righteousness.  In  perfect  conformity,  per- 
haps with  a  reference  to  the  j)assage  thus 
inter])reted,  the  apostle  just  now  expressed 
himself:  "  Even  the  righteousness  of  God, 
which  is  not  only  made  over  to  all  believers, 
as  a  rich  portion,  but  put  upon  all  as  a  beau- 
tiful garment,"  Rom.  iii.  22,f  whereby  alone 
their  moral  deformity  can  be  covered,  and 
their  everlasting  confusion  prevented.  Mil- 
ton, it  is  certain,  speaking  of  this  memora- 
ble transaction,  considers  it  in  the  same  sj)!- 
ritual  sense  : — 


*  In  some  such  sense,  I  think,  our  first  parents  must 
understand  (he  promise.  Otherwise  it  could  yield 
them  no  eflcctual  relief,  under  the  disircssinfiscnsrof 
thrir  own  misery,  and  the  dismal  apprehension  of  their 
posterity's  ruin, 
f  lil^iravras  EIII    wavr  $  t«j  ir.ffr£i/«VT«;. 


LETTER  IV. 


3.3^ 


Nor. he  tlieir  outw.inl  only  with  the  skins 
"Of  beasts,  hut  iiiw:iril  naked iit'ss,  (much  more 
Op))rol)ric)us  !)  with  hisrobonf  rifj;hteousne3S 
Arraying,  coveted  from  his  Father's  sight. 


.  *'  In  thy  seed,"  says  the  great  Jehovah  to 
his  servant  Alirahani,  "  shall  all  the  nations 
of  the  earth  be  blessed,"  Gen.  xxii.  18. 
That  the  seed  here  mentioned  is  Christ, 
the  a])()stle  places  beyond  all  doubt,* 
Both  scripture  and  reason  declare  that 
true  blessedness  must  necessarily  include 
the  pardon  of  sins  and  the  favour  of 
God,  the  sanctification  of  our  souls,  and 
the  inheritance  of  life  eternal.  None 
of  which  are  to  be  acquired  by  any  hu- 
man performances,  but  all  are  to  be  sought, 
and  all  may  be  found  in  the  root  and  off- 
spring of  Abraham,  Jesus  Christ ;  who  is 
therefore  most  pertinently  styled,  "  The  de- 
sire of  all  nations,"  Hag.  ii.  7,  the  actual 
desire  of  every  enlightened  nation,  and  the 
implicit  desire  of  all  nations  whatever ;  be- 
cause all,  without  iuiy  exception,  covet  what 
is  to  be  derived  only  from  Jesus  Christ  the 
righteous,  real  ha])piness. 

The  ])atriarchal  age,  and  the  legal  econo- 
my, bore  their  testimony  to  this  tnith,  by 
typical  persons,  emblematical  miracles,  and 
figurative  usages.  Indeed,  the  whole  cere- 
monial service  was  a  grand  series  of  types, 
representing  Christ  and  his  everlasting  right- 
eousness. In  all  which  this  was  the  unani- 
mous though  silent  language  ;  "  Behold  the 
Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of 
the  world."  Tiiese  I  shall  not  stay  to  dis- 
cuss, because  proofs  of  a  more  explicit  and 
positive  nature  wait  for  our  consideration  ; 
only  I  would  just  make  a  transient  observa- 
tion, relating  to  one  very  remarkable  consti- 
tution in  the  Jewish  ritual. — The  high-priest 
had  on  the  front  of  his  mitre  a  plate  of  piu-e 
gold,  engraven  with  that  venerable  motto, 
"  Holiness  to  the  Lord,"  Exod.  xxviii.  3G, 
37,  which  was  always  to  be  on  his  forehead 
when  he  performed  the  solemn  ministrations 
of  the  sanctuary;  and  for  this  important 
reason,  that  the  people  "  might  be  accepted 
before  the  Lord."  Exod.  xxviii.  38.  Did 
not  this  most  clearly  foreshow  the  immacu- 
Lite  holiness  of  our  great  High  Priest  ?  and 
with  equal  clearness  imply,  that  his  holiness 
should  procure  acceptance  for  all  his  fol- 
lowers. 

In  the  book  of  Job  we  have  several  hints 
of  this  truth,  and  one  passage  very  express 
to  our  purpose.  EHhu  describes  an  uncon"- 
verted  person  under  the  chastising  h:md  of 
Providence,  "  whose  life,"  through  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  disease,  "  drew  near  to  the 


*  See  St.  Paul's  romment  upon  this  invaiuahle  pro- 
mise. Gal.  iii.li,  itc.  This  commcniator,  weall  allow, 
was  guided  by  the  Spirit,  and  knew  the  mind  of  God. 
Acci/fdiMi!  to  his  exposition  of  the  text,  it  is  pregnant 
with  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith,  and  ton- 
tain»  an  abi  id^jiiient  of  tliu  gospel. 


grave;  and  his  soul,"  through  the  multitude 
of  his  initpiities,  was  ready  to  become  a  prey 
"to  the  destroyers.''  In  this  deplorable 
condition,  "  if  there  be  present  with  hini 
the  Messenger*  of  the  covenant  of  peace, 
that  great  Interpreter*  of  the  divine  coun- 
cils," who  for  his  siiperexcellent  wisdom  is 
justly  deemed  "  one  among  a  thousand,"  or 
rather  "  the  chiefest  among  ten  thousand  ;" 
if  he,  by  his  enlightening  Spirit,  vouchsafe 
to  show  unto  the  aliiicted  man  his  own  per- 
fect righteousness,  that  most  meritorious 
uprightness  on  which  alone  a  sinner  may 
depend,  both  for  temporal  and  eternal  sal- 
vation ;  then  the  poor  distressed  creature, 
attentive  to  this  instruction,  and  applying 
this  righteousness,  is  made  partaker  of  par- 
don. God,  the  sovereign  Lord  of  life  and 
death,  is  gracious  imto  him,  and  saith,  in 
the  greatness  of  his  strength,  as  well  as  in 
the  midtitude  of  his  mercies,  "  deliver  him 
from  going  down  into  the  pit"  of  corruption, 
as  a  pledge  of  his  deliverance  from  the  pit 
of  perdition  ;  for  "  I  have  found  a  ransom" 
sufficient  to  satisfy  my  justice  :  I  have  re- 
ceived an  atonement  in  behalf  of  this  once 
obnoxious,  now  reconciled  transgressor. 

But  why  do  I  select  one  particular  para- 
graph ?  It  seems  to  be  the  main  design  of 
the  whole  book  to  overthrow  all  pretensions 
of  any  justifying  righteousness  in  man,  that 
the  wretched  sinner,  nay,  that  the  greatest 
saint,  stiipt  of  every  personal  plea,  may  rely 
oidy  on  the  merits  of  a  Redeemer.  This  is 
the  final  issue  of  all  those  warm  debates 
which  pass  between  the  afflicted  hero  and 
his  censorious  friends.  This  is  the  grand 
result  of  Elihu's  calm  reasoning,  and  of 
God  Almighty's  awful  interrogatories.  The 
apparent  centre  this,  (see  Job  xlii.  6,)  in 
which  all  the  lines  terminate  ;  justly  there- 
fore to  be  considered  as  the  principal  scope 
of  the  whole  work. 

I  must  not  omit  an  excellent  observation, 
which  I  find  in  some  criticaland  explanato- 
ry notesf  on  the  last  words  of  David.  The 
judicious  author,  proving  that  this  song  re- 
lates to  Chiist ;  that  it  displays  the  dignity 
of  our  Redeemer,  under  the  character  of  the 
"  the  King,"  and  "  the  Just  One,"  adds,  as 
an  explication  of  the  last  amiable  and  glorious 
title — "  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  so  called, 
not  so  much  for  having  fulfilled  all  righte- 
ousness in  his  own  person,  and  performed 


•  See  Job  xxxiii.  22,  Ac— Christ  is  called  ']Hhn 
the  angel  of  the  divine  presence,  Isa.  Ixiii.  !).  The 
messenger  of  the  covenant,  Mai.  iii.  I.  He  is  also,  in 
the  most  unlimited  sense  of  the  phrase,  V]^Q  the  in- 
terpreter of  the  divine  councils  ;  he  to  whom  the  Fa- 
ther hath  given  tlu-timgueof  theleamed.andby  whom 
he  makes  known  the  ollierwise  unsearchable  myste- 
nes  of  the  gosi)el.— Should  any  doubt  remain  concern- 
mg  the  propriety  of  applying  this  passage  to  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  the  reader,  I  hope,  will  give  himself  the 
pleasure  of  perusing  the  polite  Witsius.  (Kcon.  lib.  4. 
chap.  lii.  xxxi.  and  Dr.  Grey's  valuable  notes  upon 
the  place,  in  his  Mber  Jobi. 

t  Jly  Ur.  Grey.    See  2  Sam.  xxiii.  I,  cVt. 


334 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


an   iinsinning  ohedience  to  the  will  of  God,  I  earth  knows  us  no  more ;  when  the  bo<!y 
as  Ijecause,  by  liis  righteousness  imputed  to    revives,  and  we  shall  all   stand  before  the 


us,  we  also,  upon  the  terms*  of  the  gospel, 
are  justified,  or  accounted  righteous  before 
God." 

I  think  we  may  evidently  discern  the  same 
vein  of  evangelical  doctrine  running  through 
many  of  the  psalms.  "  He  shall  convert 
my  soul,"f  Psal  xxiii.  3,  turn  me  not  only 
from  sin  and  ignorance,  but  from  eveiy  false 
confidence,  and  every  deceitful  refuge.  "  He 
shall  bring  me  forth  in  paths  of  righteous- 
ness," in  those  paths  of  imputed  righteousness 
which  are  always  adorned  with  the  trees  of 
lioliiiess  ;  are  always  watered  with  the  foun- 
tains of  consolation:  and  always  terminate  in 
everlasting  rest.  Some,  perhaps,  may  ask, 
Wliy  I  give  this  sense  to  the  passage  ?  Why 
may  it  not  signify  the  paths  of  duty  ;  and 
the  way  of  our  own  obedience  ?  Because 
such  effects  are  here  mentioned  as  never 
have  resulted,  and  never  can  result  from  any 
duties  of  our  own.  These  are  not  "  green 
pastures,"  but  a  parched  and  blasted  heath. 
These  are  not  "  still  waters,"  but  a  troubled 
and  disorderlyl:  stream.  Neither  can  these 
speak  peace  or  administer  comfort  when  we 
l)ass  through  the  valley  and  shadow  of  death. 
To  yield  these  blessings  is  the  exalted  office 
of  Christ,  and  the  sole  prerogative  of  his 
obedience. 

Admitting  that  this  obedience  is  of  so- 
vereign advantage  during  the  years  of  life, 
and  in  the  hour  of  death,  it  may  still  occur 
to  the  serious  and  inquisitive  mind  whatwill 
be  our  safeguard  after  the  great  change? 
When  the  soul  departs,  and  our  place  on 


*  That  is,  freely;  or,  .is  the  prophet  speaks,  "with- 
out money  and  witliout  price."  For  nothing  is  re- 
<iuisite  in  order  to  a  participation  of  Christ  and  his 
benefits,  but  aconviction  of  our  extremeneed,  and  an 
unfeigned  desire  toreceive  them  ;  receive  them  as  gifts 
of  pure  grace, vouchsafed  to  the  most  undeserving  crea- 
tures. Tliis  point,  which  is  so  intimately  connected 
with  our  comfort  and  hope,  the  reader  may  see  more 
fully  .stated  in  Dialogue  XV- 

t  I  am  sensible  the  word  3^1^"^  may  signify  to 
refresh  or  rc-store;  may  answer  to  the  Greek  phrase 
av£c\^w|£,  and  denote  the  comforts  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
This  verb  may  also  bear  the  same  signification  with 
the  participle  s  T/j-TjEv/'a,-,  in  our  Lord's  exhortation 
to  Peter,  tvlieti  thnu  art  converted.  Not  describing 
the  first  grand  revolution  in  the  heart,  by  which  a  new 
determination  is  given  to  the  judgment,  and  a  new 
bias  to  the  affections:  but  expressing  those  subsequent 
operations  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  by  which  we  are  re- 
covered from  our  various  relapses,  and  healed  of  our 
daily  infirmities.  And  I  question  whether  there  is  any 
instance  in  which  we  more  frequently  need  these  re- 
storing aids,  th.an  in  the  case  of  adherini;  lo  our  Re- 
deemer's righteousness.  So  prone  are  we  to  forget  our 
resting  place  !  so  liable  to  fall  from  oursteadfastnessin 
.Christ. 

X  Blasted,  disorderly. — Let  not  these  words  grate  on 
the  car,  or,  if  they  grate  on  the  ear,  let  them  humble 
the  heart.  What  were  Job's  duties?  Zealous  and  ex- 
emplary;  practised  from  his  very  youth,  and  neither 
equalled  nor  excelled  by  any  person  on  earth.  Yet 
these,  in  point  of  justification,  were  not  a  whit  better 
than  Aspasio  represents.  Let  us  hear  the  last  words 
of  this  matchless  saint,  "  I  al)hor  myself,  and  repent 
in  dust  and  ashes."  From  this  confession  we  learn, 
that,  with  all  his  furniture  of  personal  obedience,  he 
had  just  cnotgh  to  be  asliamed,  confovmded,  un  Itnie. 


judgment-seat,  what  will  then  avail  us? 
The  same  righteousness  of  our  divine  Lord. 
This,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  displayed  in  the 
very  next  psalm,  which  begins  with  a  solici- 
tous inquiry ;  subjoins  a  satisfactory  answer, 
and  closes  with  a  most  pertinent  but  rap- 
turous apostrophe.  This  is  the  inquirj-, 
"  Who  shall  ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord  I 
or  who  shall  rise  up  in  his  holy  place  ?"  This 
is  the  answer  :  "  Even  he  that  hath  clean 
hands  and  a  pure  heart.*  He  shall  receive 
the  blessing"  of  plenary  remission  "  from 
the  Lord,  and  righteousness  also  from  the 
God  of  his  salvation  ;"  even  that  perfect 
righteousness,  which  is  not  acquired  by  man, 
but  bestowed  by  Jehovah  ;  which  is  not  per- 
formed by  the  saint,  but  received  by  the  sin- 
ner; which  is  the  only  solid  basis,  to  sup- 
port our  hopes  of  happiness  ;  the  only  valid 
plea  for  an  admission  into  the  mansions  of 
joy.  Then  follows  the  apostrophe ;  The 
prophet  foresees  the  ascension  of  Christ  and 
his  saints  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  He 
sees  his  Lord  inarching  at  the  head  of  the 
Redeemed  world,  and  conducting  them  into 
regions  of  honour  and  joy.  Suitably  to  such 
a  xiew,  and  in  a  most  beautiful  strain  of 
poetry,  he  addresses  himself  to  the  heavenly 
portals  :  "  Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates, 
and  be  ye  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors  ;  and 
the  King  of  glory,"  with  all  the  heirs  of  his 
grace  and  righteousness,  shall  make  their 
triumphant  entry  ;  "  shall  enter  in,"  and  go 
out  no  more. 

Having  shown  the  powerful  and  extensive 
influence  of  our  Redeemer's  righteousness 
— its  efficacy  in  this  world  to  justify,  in  the 
other  world  to  glorify — well  may  the  sweet 
singer  of  Israel  ])rofess  his  supreme  value 
for  it,  and  entire  dependence  on  it.  "  I  will 
go  forth  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  God, 
and  will  make  mention  of  thy  righteousness 
only."-|-  As  though  he  had  said,  I  will  have 
recourse  to  no  other  righteousness  for  the 
consolation  of  my  soul.  I  will  plead  no 
other  righteousness  for  the  recommendation 
of  my  person.  I  will  fly  to  no  other  right- 
eousness for  my  final  acceptance.and  endless 
felicity.  This  is  that  "  raiment  of  needle- 
work and  clothing  of  wrought  gold,"  Psalm 
xlv.  13,  in  which  the  King's  daughter  is  in- 
troduced to  Him  "  who  sitteth  in  the  hea- 
vens over  all."  This  is  that  "  garment  for 
glory  and  for  beauty,"  which  clothed  our  great 
High  Priest,  and  descending  to  his  very 


*  Psal.  xxiv.  4.  "  Who  hath  clean  hands  and  a  pure 
heart?"  he  only  who.se  heart  is  sprinkled  from  an  evil 
conscience,  by  the  precious  blood  of  Christ ;  and  who 
lives  by  faith  in  the  .Son  of  God.  Heb.  x.  22.  Gal.ii.  20. 

t  Psalm  Ixxi.  l(i.  There  is,  in  the  Hebrew  original 
and  in  the  new  translation,  a  very  emphatical  repeti- 
tion ;  which  adds  weight  to  the  sentiment,  and  do- 
mands  a  peculiar  attention  from  the  reader  :  "  Thy 
rigliltousncss,  even  thine  only." 


LETTER  IV.  3Hj 

feet,  Rev.   i.   13,   clothes  and  adorns  the   redeemed ;  redeemed,  "  not  with  cornipti- 
lowest  meml)pr.s  of  his  mystical  body.  ,  hie  things,  as  silver  and  gold,"  but  by  severe 

Recollecting  all  the  foregoing  particulars,  judgments  executed  on  their  glorious  Head, 
jtistly,  and  on  the  most  rational  ground,  and  gracious  Representative ;  and  not  by 
does  our  royal  author  declare,  "  Blessed  are  i  these  only,  but  by  righteousness  also,  by  the 
the  peojjle  that  know  the  joyful  sound  -.  they    perfect  and  most  meritorious   righteousness 


shall  walk,  O  Lord,  in  the  light  of  thy 
countenance.  In  thy  name  shall  they  re- 
joice all  the  day ;  and  in  thy  righteousness 
shall  they  be  exalted."  Psalm  Ixxxix.  15, 
IG.  They  are  truly  blessed,  they  alone  are 
happy,  who  "  know  the  joyful  sound"  of 
the  gospel  ;  not  only  receive  it  with  their 
ears,  but  admit  it  into  their  very  hearts,  so 
as  to  partake  of  the  sacred  peace  and  spiri- 
tual liberty  which  it  proclaims.  "  They 
shall  walk  in  the  light  of  thy  countenance  ;" 
they  shall  enjoy  such  communications  of  thy 
grace,  and  such  manifestations  of  thy  love, 
as  will  constitute  the  serenity  and  sunshine 
of  their  souls.  In  thy  name,  O  Lord  Je- 
sus Christ,  in  thy  glorious  person,  and  thy 
infinite  merit,  "  shall  they  rejoice  :"  and  not 
occiisionally,  but  habitually ;  not  barely  at 
some  distinguished  intervals,  but  "  all  the 
day."  Their  joy  shall  be  as  last'ng  as  it  is 
substantial.  "  And  in  thy  righteousness 
shall  they  be  exalted,"  set  above  the  tantaliz- 
ing power  of  temporal  things ;  placed  beyond 
the  slavish  fear  of  the  last  enemy  ;  and 
raised,  when  time  shall  be  no  more,  to  a 
state  of  celestial  glory  and  consummate 
bliss. 

How  thoroughly  evangelical  is  this  sera- 
phic writer !  He  has  joy,  he  has  blessed- 
ness, and  he  looks  for  everlasting  exalta- 
tion ;  yet  not  from  his  faith,  his  repentance, 
and  his  own  sincere  oliL'dience.  According 
to  this,  which  is  the  modern  scheme,  faith, 
instead  of  receiving,  would  supplant  the 
Lord  Jesus  ;  repentance,  instead  of  being 
the  gift  of  Christ,  would  become  his  rival ; 
and  sincere  obedience,  whicli  is  for  the  praise 
and  glory  of  God,  would  eclipse  and  impo- 
verish his  grace.  But  David  adopts  no 
such  sentiments  ;  David  maintains  no  such 
doctrine.  This  is  the  invariable  language 
of  his  heart :  "  All  my  springs  of  hope,  of 
trust,  and  consolation,  O  thou  adored  Ema- 
nuel !  are  in  thee."     Psalm  Ixxxvii.  7. 

This  sense  is  the  less  jirecarious,  I  had 
almost  said  the  more  certain,  as  it  exactly 
corresponds  with  the  analogy  of  faith,  and 
«'oincides  with  the  express  declarations  of 
other  scriptures.  Isaiah  is  styled  the  evan- 
gelist of  the  Jewish  church  ;  because  more 
frequently  than  any  of  the  prophets  he  ce- 
lebrates, and  more  copiously  explains,  this 
and  other  ])eculiaritics  of  the  gospel.  In 
the  very  first  cha])ter,  he  preaches  these 
glad  tidings  :  "  Zion  shall  he  redeemed  with 
judgment,  and  her  converts  with  ri^^hteous- 
ness."  Zion,  the  gospel  church,  composed 
of  fallen  crcatuies,  sometime  disobedient  to 
tlieir  God,  and  ensliycd  to  Satan,   shall  be 


of  the  same  divinely-excellent  Person. 

Our  sacred  author  bears  his  testimony 
with  warmer  zeal  and  brighter  evidence  as 
he  proceeds  in  his  incomparable  discourses. 
"  Snrely  shall  one  say,"  (or,  as  it  may  be 
rendered,  o>di/J  "  in  the  Lord  have  I  right- 
eousness and  strength."  Isaiah  xlv.  24. 
Please  to  observe,  Theron,  it  is  not  said, 
in  my  own  works,  in  my  own  repentance, 
no,  nor  in  my  own  faith,  "  but  in  the  Lord 
.lesus  have  I  righteousness  ;"  righteousness 
for  justification,  and  strength  for  sanctifica- 
tion  ;  an  imputed  righteousness,  to  procure 
my  acceptance  ;  an  imi>arted  strength,  to 
produce  my  holiness  :  the  first  constituting 
my  title  to  the  everlasting  inheritance,  the 
last  forming  my  personal  preparation  for  its 
enjoyment.  "  Surely,"  which  expresses  a 
firm  persuasion,  and  an  inishaken  affiance. 
"  Only,"  which  denotes  an  utter  renuiu-ia- 
tion  of  all  other  confidence,  and  excludes 
every  other  ground  of  hope.  "  Righteous  . 
nesses,"*  the  original  is  in  the  plural  number  ; 
which  seems  to  be  used,  not  without  an  im- 
portant design,  to  enlarge  the  significancy  of 
the  word,  and  make  it  correspond  with  the 
richness  of  the  blessing ;  so  that  it  may 
imply  the  fulness  and  the  supereminent  ex- 
cellency of  this  gift  of  grace  ;  as  comi)re- 
hending  whatevei-,  either  of  suffering  or  obe- 
dience, is  requisite  to  the  justification  of 
sinners.  Insomuch  that,  in  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  his  all-perfect  righteousness, 
the  seed  of  Israel  shall  not  only  be  justified, 
but  rejoice  ;  and  not  only  confide,  but  glory, 
Isa.  xlv.  23. 

What  he  had  just  nowasserted,  he  exem- 
plifies in  his  own,  and  in  the  person  of  every 
true  believer.  "  I  will  greatly  rejoice  in  the 
Lord,  my  soul  shall  be  joyful  in  my  God  ; 
for  he  hath  clothed  me  with  the  garments  of 
salvation,  he  hath  covered  me  with  the  robe 
of  righteousness,  Isa.  Ixi.  10.  True  be- 
lievers are  compared,  in  one  of  our  sacred 
eclogues,  to  "  a  company  of  horses  in  Pha- 
roah's  chariot  ;"  Cant,  i-  9  ;  to  horses,  than 
which  no  animal  is  more  stately  and  grace- 
ful ;  to  Egyptian  horses,  which  were  the 
best  and  com])letest  then  in  the  world  ; 
to  those  in  Pharaoh's  chariot,  which  doubt- 
less were  a  choice  set,  selected  fiom  thou, 
sands,  and  finest  where  all  were  fine.  Here, 
methinks,  I  see  the  comparison  realized. 
Christians,    endued  with    such  a  spirit   as 


•  mpiy  parallel  to  which,  both  in  construc- 
tion and  signification,  is  the  phrase  used  by  -St.  John 
,\i'ai  fiizra,  "ev.  xix.  0.  "  The  fine  linen  is  the 
rifjhtciiusness  tjiroperly,  the  righteousnesses)  of  tlie 


336 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


breatlies  in  tliis  animated  text,  are  like  a 
collection  of  those  giilliiiit  and  majestic 
steeds — not  destined  to  low  drudgeiy,  but 
appointed  to  run  in  the  royal  chariot ;  all 
life,  full  of  fire,  champing  the  bit,  and  eager 
for  the  chase.  Nothing  can  more  beauti- 
fully describe  a  state  of  exultation  and  ar- 
dour, than  the  preceding  similitude,  or  the 
following  words  -.  "  I  will  rejoice  ;  I  will- 
greatly  rejoice  ;  my  very  soul,  and  all  that 
is  within  me,  shall  be  joyfi'l  in  my  God." 
Wherefore  ?  Because  he  hath  clothed  me, 
undone  sinner  as  I  am,  with  the  garments 
of  salvation  ;  because  he  hath  covered  me, 
defective  as  all  my  services  are,  with  the 
robe  of  righteousness  ;  a  robe,  which  hides 
every  sin  that,  in  thought,  word,  or  deed, 
I  have  committed ;  a  robe,  which  screens 
from  the  sword  of  justice,  the  curse  of  the 
law,  and  all  the  vengeance  my  iniquities 
have  deserved  ;  a  robe,  which  adorns  and 
dignifies  my  soul,  renders  it  fairer  than  the 
moon,  clear  as  the  sun,  and  meet  for  the  in- 
heritance of  saints  in  light. 

Having  represented  this  righteousness,  in 
a  variety  of  grand  and  charming  views,  the 
prophet  farther  characterises  it,  as  the  un- 
alterable and  never-failing  origin  of  our  jus- 
tification and  happiness.  This  he  displays 
by  a  train  of  images,  bold  and  sublime  to 
the  last  degree.  "  Lift  up  your  eyes  to  the 
heavens,  and  look  upon  the  earth  beneath  ; 
for  the  heavens  shall  vanish  away  like  smoke, 
and  the  earth  shall  wax  old  like  a  garment ; 
but  my  salvation  shall  be  for  ever,  a!id  my 
righteousness  shall  not  be  abolished."  Isa. 
li.  6.  Observe  the  vast  dimensions,  and  the 
firm  foundations,  both  of  the  upper  and  the 
lower  world,  how  strong,  how  steadfast  they 
all  appear  !  Yet  these,  indissoluble  as  they 
may  seem,  shall  perish.  This  majestic 
globe,  on  which  mountains  rise,  and  oceans 
roll,  shall  lose  its  beautiful  gloss ;  and  be 
laid  aside,  like  a  decayed  useless  garment. 
Even  that  more  majestic  concave,  in  which 
stars  are  fixed,  and  planets  revolve,  shall  be 
deprived  of  its  very  superior  lustre  ;  and  va- 
nish away  like  the  dissolving  smoke. 
Whereas,  "  my  salvation,"  with  all  the  spi- 
ritual and  heavenly  blessings  included  in  it, 
shall  subsist  and  flourish  for  ever :  "  And 
my  righteousness,"  which  is  the  meritorious 
cause  of  all,  shall  be  an  immoveable  founda- 
tion for  repose  and  happiness.  In  short, 
whether  there  be  moral  virtues,  they  shall 
be  found  wanting ;  whether  there  be  Chris- 
tian graces,  they  shall  prove  ineffectual ; 
but  my  conformity  to  the  law,  and  my  obe- 
dience unto  death,  neither  need  addition, 
nor  admit  of  change  :  they  are  all-sufficient 
in  their  merit,  and  in  their  virtue  everlasting. 
When  day  arisen  on  our  benighted  he- 
misphere, it  bleaks  and  spreads  by  a  gra- 
dual increase — furuiiiiu',   lli^t   the  grey  twi- 


light, next  the  blushing  morn,  then  the 
shining  light,  till  all  is  heightened  into 
the  blaze  and  glow  of  noon.  When  spring 
revisits  our  wintry  clime,  she  also  ad- 
vancce  by  gentle  degrees ;  first  swells  the 
bud  and  protrudes  the  gem,  then  expands 
the  leaf,  and  unfolds  the  blossom  :  the  face 
of  things  is  continually  changing  for  the  bet- 
ter, and  nature  shows  herself,  almost  every 
hour,  in  some  new  and  more  engaging  dress. 
This  leisurely  process  renders  the  strong  ef- 
fulgence of  the  celestial  orb  more  supporta- 
ble, and  the  lovely  expansions  of  the  vegeta- 
ble creation  more  observable. 

So  progressive  and  increasing  are  the  dis- 
plays of  Jesus  Christ  exhibited  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, whose  appearance  is  unspeakably  more 
delightful  to  the  soul  than  the  emanations  of 
orient  light  are  to  the  eye,  or  the  entertain- 
ments of  the  vernal  season  to  our  other 
senses.  The  gloom  of  fallen  Adam  was 
alleviated  by  a  ray  fro'vi  this  Sun  of  Kighte- 
ousness.  Abraham  and  the  patriarchs  saw 
afar  off  the  blessed  Jesus,  "  as  the  morning 
spread  upon  the  mountains,  Joel  ii.  2.  The 
psalmist  and  the  prophets  beheld  his  nearer 
approaches,  like  the  sun  upon  the  point  of 
rising.  To  the  apostles  and  evangelists,  he 
arose  in  perfect  lustre  and  complete  beauty. 
The  grace  and  the  ])rivileges  which  dawned 
under  other  dispensations  of  religion,  are 
brought  even  to  meridian  light  by  the  gospel. 
This  I  mention,  just  to  intimate  what  you 
may  expect  from  a  following  letter. 

In  the  mean  time,  let  us  attend  to  the 
prophet  Daniel.  He  records  a  message 
from  heaven,  which  is  _more  clearly  descrip- 
tive of  this  great  evangelical  blessing  than  all 
the  foregoing  texts.  He  had  been  under 
much  distress,  and  in  great  perplexity  ;  af- 
flicted for  his  own  and  his  countrymen's 
sins ;  anxious  for  the  welftire  of  the  chosen 
nation,  and  the  prosperity  of  true  religion  ; 
when  an  angel  was  despatched  to  the  holy 
mourner  with  this  most  cheering  news,  which, 
received  by  faith,  is  the  richest  balm  to  a 
wounded  conscience,  and  the  only  remedy 
for  a  guilty  «orld  :  "  Seventy  weeks  are  de- 
termined upon  thy  people,  and  upon  thy 
holy  city  ;  to  finish  the  transgression,  and 
make  an  end  of  sin  ;  to  make  reconciliation 
for  iniquity,  and  to  bring  in  everlasting  righ- 
teousness." Dan.  ix.  21.  This  prophecy 
relates  to  the  Messiah.  It  foretells  that,  in 
the  fulness  of  time,  he  should  "  finish  the 
transgression  ;"  restrain  and  suppress  the 
power  of  corruption,  by  purifying  to  himself 
a  peculiar  people  ; — should  "  make  an  end 
of  sin  ;"  by  sealing  up  or  secreting  its  guilt, 
and  totally  abolishing  its  condemning  power; 
— should  "  make  reconciliation  for  iniquity," 
by  sustaining  the  vengeance  due  to  sinners, 
and  fully  satisfying  the  divine  justice  for  all 
tlicii   oflences  ; — should  not  barely  publibh, 


LETTER  IV. 


337 


but  accomplish  and  ''  bring  in  rigliteous- 
ness  ;"*  that  it  may  be  presented  both  to 
God  and  man  :  to  God,  for  the  roparatioii 
of  his  violated  law;  to  man,  for  the  justifi- 
cation of  his  obnoxious  person  : — That  this 
righteousness  should  be  everlasting;  not 
such  as  may  be  compared  to  the  morning'- 
cloud,  which  passetli  away  ;  or  to  the  earl)' 
dew,  which  is  soon  dried  up  ;  l)ut  such  as 
will  outlast  the  hills,  on  which  the  latter 
shines ;  and  outlast  the  skies  through  which 
the  former  sails  :  A  righteousness,  whose 
merits  extend  to  every  period,  and  every  ac- 
tion of  our  lives  ;  and  when  once  made  ours 
by  imputation,  remains,  and  will  remain  our 
unalienable  property.  To  this  all  the  saints, 
who  in  ancient  generations  pleased  God, 
owe  their  acceptance  ;  on  this,  all  the  chil- 
dren of  men  who  in  future  ages  hope  for  his 
mercy,  must  rely  ;  by  this  the  whole  assem- 
bly of  .'lie  blessed  will  be  invariably  and 
eternally  precious  in  his  sight.  Exalted 
character  !  Can  it  be  applicable  to  any  thing 
less  than  the  righteousness  of  the  incarnate 
God?  Surely  none  can  imagine  that  Da- 
niel would  speak  in  such  a  magnificent  strain 
of  any  human  righteousness,  since,  in  this 
very  chapter,  he  professedly  depreciates  him- 
self, his  fellow-saints,  and  all  human  per- 
formances whatever. 

I  forgot,  in  the  proper  place,  to  consult 
the  projjhet  Jeremiah.  Let  us  now  refer 
ourselves  to  his  determination.  Celebrating 
the  Saviour  of  Judah  and  Israel,  he  says, 
"  This  is  his  name,  whereby  he  shall  be 
called,  The  Lord  our  Righteousness ;"  a 
determination  so  clear  and  satisfactory,  as 
not  to  leave,  one  would  almost  conclude,  any 
room  for  appeal.  Should  the  sense  of  the 
passage  be  questioned,  1  think  there  cannot 
be  a  more  authentic  explication,  than 
the  preceding  extracts  from  Isaiah  and 
Daniel.  And  having  the  unanimous  at- 
testation of  two  inspired  penmen,  we  may 
venture  to  abide  by  such  authority,  even  in 
opposition  to  some  respectable  names.  In 
the  verse  immediately  foregoing,  the  essen- 
tial holiness  of  the  Redeemer  is  displayed, 
under  the  character  of  the  righteous  branch. 
The  sanctity  which  he  will  impart  to  his 
subjects,  is  intimated  by  his  "  executing 
judgment  and  justice  in  the  earth."'  In  the 
clause  we  have  (juoted,  his  imputed  righte- 
ousness is  foretold  and  promised.  Thus  the 
several  sentences  are  distinct ;  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  Saviour  is  com})lete  ;  and  he  ap- 
))ears  perfectly  suited  to  the  exigencies  of 
a  wretched  world ;    in   their  worst  estate 


"  K^2nV>  ^  think,  must  signify  more  than  to  ptiblhli 
or  preach.  Had  this  been  all  that  the  angt'l  was  com- 
missioned to  declare,  ^isi' 37,  or  Tl):^,  would  probably 
have  been  used.  Tlie  word  implies  such  a  In-ingini; 
in,  (the original  is  the  same)  as  when  Abel  brought 
his  sacrifice  to  the  altar  for  the  divine  acceptance,  and 
F.sau  brouglit  his  venison  into  the  chamber,  for  his 
father's  use.  Gen.  iv.  4,  xxvii.  31. 


enslaved  to  Satan,  and  in  their  best  falling 
short  of  the  glory  of  God.  This,  therefore, 
I  take  to  be  the  grand  and  extensive  mean- 
ing of  the  prophet  :  the  righteous  Lord  ; 
not  barely,  the  Lord  who  infuses  righte- 
ousness into  sinful  souls  ;  but  the  incar- 
nate Jehovah,*  Jer.  xxiii.  5,  6,  whose 
mediatorial  righteousness  is,  by  an  act  of 
gracious  imputation,  ours,  to  ail  the  intents 
of  justification  and  salvation  ;  ours,  as  much 
ours,  for  these  blessed  purposes,  as  if  we  had 
wrought  it  out  each  in  his  own  person. 

Foreseeing  and  contemplating  these  bless- 
ings, the  enraptured  Zechaiiah  cries  out, 
"  Rejoice  greatly.  Odaughterof  Zion;  shout, 
O  daughter  of  Jerusalem  :  behold,  thy 
King  cometh  unto  thee  ;  he  is  just  and  hav- 
ing salvation,  lowly  and  riding  upon  an  ass, 
and  upon  a  colt,  the  foal  of  an  ass,"  Zech. 
ix.  9.  He  addresses  himself  to  Zion  and  Je- 
rusalem, to  the  ecclesiastical  and  civil  com- 
munity. Persons  of  all  ranks,  and  of  every 
character,  are  exhorted  to  "  rejoice ;"  to  re- 
joice "greatly;"  nay,  to  express  the  joy  of 
their  heart,  by  loud  hallelujahs,  and  tri- 
umphant exclamations.  What  is  the  cause 
of  this  general  delight  ?  what  can  fill  both 
church  and  state  with  such  high  satisfac- 
tion ?  "  Thy  King  cometh  unto  thee  ;"  even 
that  glorious  King  who  rules  in  heaven,  and 
rules  in  the  heart ;  whose  service  is  free- 
dom, and  whose  laws  are  love.  "  He  is 
just,"  divinely  righteous  in  his  nature,  and 
he  cometh  to  fulfil  all  righteousness  in  thy 
stead.  "  Having  salvation  ;"  hereby  pro- 
curing salvation  for  his  people  ;  deliverance 
from  sin,  from  death  and  hell  ;  from  every 
evil  thou  deservest,  and  from  every  misery 
thou  fearest.  That  none  may  be  discour- 
aged, and  none  deterred,  from  applying  to 
this  Prince  of  Peace,  he  is,  amidst  all  the 
honours  of  his  sovereignty,  "  lowly  ;  does 
not  abhor  the  basest,  will  not  despise  the 
meanest;  to  the  poor  his  gospel  is  preached, 
and  for  the  guilty  his  benefits  are  intended. 
As  an  emblem,  as  a  proof  of  this  most 
amiable  and  condescending  goodness,  "  he 
will  ride  ;"  not  like  the  conquerors  of  old, 
in  a  triumphal  chariot,  or  oii  a  richly  ca- 
parisoned steed  ;  but  upon  the  most  mean 
and  despicable  of  all  animals,  "an  ass;" 
nay,  what  is  still  more  desj)icable,  on  a  rude 
undisciplined  "  colt,  the"  wayward  "foal  oi 
an  ass."-f 


In  these  golden,  infinitely  better  th.in  golden 
verses,  are  characterised  the  divine  and  human  na- 
tures of  Christ,  together  with  his  mediatorial  olBce. 
The  divine  nature,  in  that  he  enjoys  the  honours  of 
the  Godhead,  and  possesses  the  incommunicable 
name  Jehovah.  The  human  nature,  in  that  he  was 
to  be  raised  up  unto  David,  and  spring  as  a  branch 
from  his  root.  The  mediatorial  otrice,  in  that  he  is 
the  righteousness  of  his  people,  and  the  salvation  of 
sinners. 

t  Because  profane  scoffers  have  presumed  to  ri- 
dicule this  lery  remarkable  incident  of  our  Lord's 
life,  some  interpreters  of  note  have  endeavoured  to 
rescue  it  from  tneir  abusive  attempts,  by  observing, 
"That  the  eastern  asses  are  much  larger  and  more 


338 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


And  HOW,  since  my  Theron  confesses 
himself  to  be  miserable,  and  poor  and  naked; 
since  the  eyes  of  his  understanding  are  en- 
lightened to  see  the  impurity  of  liis  heart, 
the  imperfection  of  his  righteousness,  and 
that  he  is  in  himself  a  lost  undone  siinier  ; 
what  advice,  cheering  and  salutary,  shall  I 
suRgest  ?  O  !  let  him  listen  to  an  Adviser 
infinitely  more  able  and  compassionate  ; 
listen  to  Him  who  is  the  Ancient  of  days, 
and  the  wisdom  of  God  :  "  I  counsel  thee," 
says  the  blessed  Jesus,  "  to  buy  of  me  gold 
tried  in  the  fire,  that  thou  mayest  be  rich  : 
and  white  raiment,  that  thou  mayest  be 
clothed."  Rev.  iii.  18.  Gold!  wh^t  can 
this  denote,  but  all  those  spiritual  treasures 
which  are  hid  in  Christ?  which  are  in  mea- 
sure unsearchable,  in  value  inestimable,  in 
duration  eternal.  "  White  raiment !"  Sure- 
ly this  must  signify  the  righteousness  of  our 
Redeemer,  which  is  all  purity,  and  all  per- 
fection ;  which  clothes  the  soul,  as  a  most 
suitable  and  commodious  garment ;  which 
covers  every  deformity  and  every  sin  ;  and 
presents  the  believer,  free  from  shame  and 
free  from  blemish,  before  the  throne  of  the 
Majesty  in  the  heavens. 

This,  to  use  the  delicate  language  and 
amiable  images  of  Isaiah — this  doctrine, 
embraced  by  a  realizing  faith,  is  the  only 
pillow  of  rest,  "  wherewith  we  may  cause 
the  weary  and  heavy  laden  soul  to  find  re- 
pose ;"  and  this  is  the  sovereign  cordial  jire- 
pared  by  infinite  mercy  for  the  refreshm.ent 
of  anxious  and  desponding   transgressors- 


graceful  than  ours ;  that  patriarchs  and  judges  thought 
at  no  disgrace  to  ri;le  upon  them.  This  observation 
has,  1  fear,  more  of  false  delicacy,  than  of  real  truth, 
or  Christian  simplicity.  In  the  patriarchal  ages,  I 
acknowledge,  peisjns  of  high  distinction  thought  it 
DO  dishonour  in  their  journeys  and  processions,  to 
appear  on  this  animal.  But  I  very  much  question, 
whether  the  same  fashion  subsisted,  or  the  same  way 
of  thinking  prevailed,  in  the  reign  of  TiberiusCicsar. 
See  James  iii.  3.  Nay,  1  am  strongly  inclined  to  sus- 
pect, that  this  plain  primitive  custom  was  superseded, 
even  in  the  days  of  Zechariah.  P'or  long  before  this 
time  I  find,  that  Solomon  had  four  thousand  stalls  of 
horses  for  his  char. ots,  and  twe.ve  thou  and  horse- 
men ;  and  that  horses  were  brought  to  him  out  of 
Egypt,  and  divers  other  countries,  1  Kings  iv.  26,  x. 
2U,  ■2i).  From  this  period,  it  is  probable,  none  l)ut 
the  poor  and  inferior  sort  of  people  rode  upon  asses. 
When  Isaiah  propliesied,  the  land  was  full  of  horses, 
Isaiah  ii.  7-  Under  the  Persian  monarchy,  when 
Zechaiiah  flourished,  horses  were  in  still  greater  re- 
pute. Well,  therefore,  might  the  prophet  say,  with 
wonder  and  delight,  lowly,  and  riding  upon  an  ass! 
Was  it  a  mean  attitude  ?  exceedingly  mean,  mean 
even  to  contempt,  I  make  no  scruple  to  grant  it :  nay.  I 
make  my  boast  of  it !  It  is  for  the  honour  of  our  Lord's 
condescension,  it  is  for  the  utttr  confusion  of  all  world- 
ly pomp  and  grandeur,  and  it  is  for  the  unspeakable 
comfort  of  my  sinful  soul.  Most  charming  humility, 
most  endearing  gentlenesi !  "  He  who  rideth  upon 
.he  heavens  as  it  were  upon  ahorse,  and  maketh  the 
clouds  his  chariot,  to  atone  for  my  pride,  and  to  en- 


O  !  let  us  not  be  in  the  number  of  those 
proud  and  refractory  creatures,  who,  though 
they  infinitely  needed,  "yet  would  not  hear" 
the  gracious  news,  Isaiah  xxviii.  12,  nor  re- 
ceive the  imspeakable  benefit.  In  this  re- 
spect, and  in  this  most  eminently,  is  that 
other  saying  of  the  sublime  teacher  true  ; 
"  The  Lord  of  hosts  shall  be  for  a  crown  of 
glory,  and  for  a  diadem  of  beauty,  to  the 
residue  of  his  people.  Isa.  xxviii.  5.  Shall 
we  tear  from  our  temples,  or  reject  with 
disdain,  this  unfading  and  heavenly  orna- 
ment, in  order  to  substitute  a  mean  and 
tawdry  chajilet  of  our  own. 

Let  me  add  a  pertinent  passage  from  one 
of  our  celebrated  dramatic  writers,  which, 
if  proper  in  his  sense,  will  be  incomparably 
more  so,  according  to  our  manner  of  appli- 
cation : 

-It  were  contemning. 


With  impious  self-sufficient  arrogance'. 
This  bounty  of  our  God,  not  to  accept. 
With  every  mark  of  honour,  such  a  gift. 

I  might  proceed  to  urge  this  expostulation 
of  the  poet,  as  I  might  easily  have  multiplied 
my  quotations  from  holy  writ,  J.'ut,  stu- 
dious of  brevity,  I  leave  both,  without  fur- 
ther enlargement,  to  your  own  meditation, 
^'ct,  more  studious  of  my  friend's  happiness. 
I  cannot  conclude  without  wishing  him  an 
interest,  a  clear  and  established  interest,  in 
this  everlasting  righteousness  of  Christ. 
For  so,  and  so  only,  can  he  have  "  everlast- 
ing consolation,  and  good  hope  through 
grace." — I  am,  my  dear  Theron, 

Inviolably  yours, 

ASPASIO. 

P.S. — Opposite  to  the  room  in  which  1 
write,  is  a  most  agreeable  prospect  of  the 
gardens  and  the  fields  ;  these,  covered  with 
herbage,  and  loaded  with  corn ;  those, 
adorned  with  flowers  and  abounding  with 
esculents  ;  all  appearing  with  so  florid  and 
so  beautiful  an  aspect,  that  they  really  seem, 
in  conformity  to  the  Psalmist's  descriptioti, 
even  to  "  laugh  and  sing."  Let  me  just  ob- 
serve, that  all  these  fine  scenes,  all  these 
rich  productions,  sprung — from  what  ?  From 
the  dissolution  of  the  respective  seeds. 
The  seeds  planted  by  the  gardener,  anditlie 
grain  sowed  by  the  husbandman,  first  pe- 
rished in  the  ground,  and  then  the  copious 
increase  arose. 

Much  in  the  same  manner  a  true  fa!th  in 
Christ  and  his  righteousness  arises — from 
what  ?  From  the  ruins  of  self-sufticiency, 
and  the  death  of  personal   excellency-     Let 

e    therefore  entreat   my   Theron   still   to 


courage  my  hope,  disdained  not  m  the  days  of  lus    t^l^(.  tlie   [j,a,y    i^y    h,s    coimsellor  ;   stdl    to 

flesh,  to  ride  upon  an  ass.  ,  .u     j  ■,.       c  u;^   ..^t,-,r-a 

They  who  would  dignify  this  action,  any  otherwise  keep  an  eye  on  the  depravity  ot  his  nature, 

than  from  its  evei-to-be-admired  abasement,  seem  to    jj,j(J  tj^e  rniscarriages  of  his  life.       The  more 

have  forgot  Len  the  stable  and  the  manger.   Thev  who      ,       .  .i „„  j„„„l,,  „-o  fool  r>iii- 

are  otTended  at  this  circumstance,  and  asham'ed  to  clearly  we  see,  the  more  deep  y  \\  e  tee  oui 
own  their  Lord  ni  his  deep  humiliation,  have  but  guilt  and  our  misery,  the  more  highly  shall  we 
very  imperfectly  learned  the  apostle's  lesson,  "God  L„|„„  ,l„  ^u„^,^„no  r.f  nni-  blp«sprl  .^iiretv 
(orbid  that  I  should  glory,  saveiu  the  cross  of  Christ  ^*'"P  '"^  obedience  ot  oui  hlesseu  Ouiety. 
.esus,  my  Loiil."  I  III  such  a  heart  faith  will  flourish  as  a  rose, 


LETTER  V. 

and  lift  up  its  head  like  a  cedar  in  Lebanon. 
To  such  a  soul  the  great  Redeemer's  right- 
eousness will  be  welcome,  as  waters  to  the 
thirsty  soil,  or  as  rivers  in  the  sandy  desert. 


339 


LETTER  V. 

ASPASIO  TO   TlIEUON. 

Dear  Theron, — Give  me  leave  to  re- 
late an  uncommon  accident  which  happen- 
ed a  little  while  ago  in  this  neighbourhood, 
and  of  which  I  myself  was  a  spectator. 
The  day  was  the  Sabbath  ;  the  place  aj)- 
propriated  to  divine  worship  was  the  scene 
of  this  remarkable  affair. 

A  boy  came  running  into  the  church 
breathless  and  trembling.  He  told,  but  in 
a  low  voice,  those  who  stood  near,  that  a 
press-gang*  was  advancing  to  besiege  the 
doors,  and  arrest  the  sailors.  An  alarm 
was  immediately  taken.  The  seamen,  with 
muchhurry,and  no  less  anxiety,  began  to  shift 
for  themselves.  The  rest  of  the  congrega- 
tion, perceiving  an  unusual  stir,  were  struck 
with  surprise.  A  whisper  of  inquiry  ran 
from  seat  to  seat,  which  increased  by  de- 
grees into  a  confused  murmur.  No  one 
could  inform  his  neighbour,  therefore  every 
one  was  left  to  solve  the  appearance  from 
the  suggestions  of  a  timorous  imagination. 
Some  suspected  the  town  was  on  fire  :  some 
were  apprehensive  of  an  invasion  from  the 
Spaniards  :  others  looked  up,  and  looked 
round,  to  see  if  the  walls  were  not  giving 
way,  and  the  roof  falling  upon  their  heads. 
In  a  few  moments  the  consternation  be- 
came general.  The  men  stood  like  statues, 
in  silent  amazement,  and  unavailing  per- 
plexity. The  women  shrieked  aloud  ;  fell 
into  fits;  sunk  to  the  ground  in  a  swoon. 
Nothing  was  seen  but  wild  disorder  ;  no- 
thing heard  but  tumultuous  clamour.  Drown- 
ed   was    the    preacher's    voice.        Had    he 


and  inconceivable  astonisnment  must  seize 
the  guilty  conscience,  when  the  hand  of  the 
Almighty  shall  open  those  unparalleled 
scenes  of  wonder,  desolation,  and  horror  .' 
when  the  trumpet  shall  sound — the  dead 
arise — the  world  be  in  flames — the  Judge 
on  the  throne — and  all  mankind  at  the  bar ! 

"  The  trumpet  shall  sound,"  1  Cor.  xv. 
52,  says  the  prophetic  teacher.  And  how 
startling,  how  stupendous  the  summons ! 
Nothing  equal  to  it,  nothing  like  it,  was 
ever  heard  through  all  the  regions  of  the 
universe,  or  all  the  revolutions  of  time. 
When  conflicting  armies  have  discharged 
the  bellowing  artillery  of  war,  or  when  vic- 
torious armies  have  shouted  for  joy  of  the 
conquest,  the  seas  and  shores  have  rung, 
the  mountains  and  plains  have  echoed.  But 
the  shout  of  the  archangel  and  the  trump 
of  God  will  resound  from  pole  to  pole ; 
will  pierce  the  centre,  and  shake  the  pillars 
of  heaven.  Stronger,  stranger  still !  it  will 
penetrate  even  the  deepest  recesses  of  the 
tomb.  It  will  pour  its  amazing  thunder 
into  all  those  abodes  of  silence.  The  dead, 
the  very  dead,  shall  hear. 

When  the  trumpet  has  sounded,  "  the 
dead  shall  arise."  In  a  moment,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  graves  open,  the 
monumental  ))iles  are  cleft  asunder,  and  the 
nations  under  ground  start  into  day.  What 
an  immense  harvest  of  men  and  women, 
springing  up  from  the  caverns  of  the  earth, 
and  the  depths  of  the  sea  !  Stand  awhile, 
my  soul,  and  consider  the  wonderful  spec- 
tacle—  Adam  formed  in  Paradise,  and  the 
babe  horn  but  yesterday;  the  earliest  ages 
and  latest  generations,  meet  upon  the  same 
level.  Jews  and  Gentiles,  Greeks  and 
Barbarians,  people  of  all  climes  and  lan- 
guages, unite  in  the  promiscuous  throng. 
Here,  those  vast  armies,  which  like  swarms 
of  locusts  covered  countries,  which  with  an 
irresistible  s\^■eep  overrun  empires — hear 
they  all  appear,  and  here  they  all  are  lost — 
lost  like  the  small  drop  of  a  bucket,  when 


spoke  in  thunder,  his  message  would  scarce  plunged  into  the  unfiithomable  and  Ijound- 


nave  been  regarded.  To  have  gone  on 
with  his  work,  amidst  such  a  prodigious  fer- 
ment, had  been  like  arguing  with  a  whirl- 
wind, or  talking  to  a  tempest- 

This  brought  to  my  mind  that  great  tre- 
mendous day,  when  the  heavens  will  pass 
a\\ay,  when  the  earth  will"be  dissolved,  and 
all  its  inhabitants  receive  their  final  doom. 
If  at  such  incitlents  of  very  inferior  dread 
our  hearts  are  ready  to  fail,  what  unknown 


*  The  reader,  it  is  hoped,  will  excuse  whatever 
may  appear  low,  or  savour  of  the  plebeian,  in  any  of 

these  circumstances.     If  Aspasio  had  set  himself  to  ,  i  i         •        i 

invent  the  description  of  a  jianic,  he  would  probably   and  unreprovable"    in   the   presence   of  the 


less  ocean.  O  the  multitudes  !  the  multi- 
tudes which  these  eyes  shall  survey,  when 
God  "  calleth  the  heavens  from  above, 
and  the  earth,  that  he  may  judge  his  peo- 
ple!" What  shame  must  flush  the  guilty 
cheek  !  what  anguish  wound  the  polluted 
breast  !  to  have  all  their  filthy  practices,  and 
infamous  tenipeis,  exposed  before  this  in- 
numerable crowd  of  witnesses  ! — Fly,  my 
Theron ;  and  fly,  my  soul ;  instantly  let  us 
fly,  earnestly  let  us  fly,  to  the  purifying  blood 
of  Jesus  ;  that  all  our  sins  maybe  blotted 
out ;    that   we  may  be  found   "  unblamable 


have  formed  it  upon  some  more  raised  and  <l>gnified   assembled  world,  and  what  is  infinilcly  more 

incident.  Uut  as  this  was  a  real  matter  of  tact,  whuh  i    ■       i        ■   i        /•    i  • 

lately  happened  in  one  of  our  seaport  towns,  truth,    to  be  revered,  III  the  bight  oi  the  omnipotent 


even  in  a  plain  dress,  may  possibly  bono  less  accepta- 
ble than  hction  tricked  up  with  the  most  splendid  , 
embellishments.  j 


God. 

When   tho 


swarm   issues,    the  hive  will 


340  THERON  AN 

burn':  There  is  no  more  need  of  this  habi- 
table globe.  The  elect  have  fought  the 
good  fight,  and  finished  their  course  :  The 
wicked  have  been  tritd,  and  found  incorrigi- 
ble. The  important  drama  is  ended,  every 
actor  has  performed  his  part ;  now,  there- 
fore, the  scenes  are  taken  down,  and  the 
stage  is  demolished.  "  Wo  be  to  the  earth, 
and  to  the  works  thereof!"  Its  streams  are 
turned  into  pitch,  its  dust  into  brimstone^ 
and  the  breath  of  the  Almighty,  like  a  tor- 
rent of  fire,  enkindles  the  whole.  See  !  see 
how  the  conflagration  rages,  spreads,  prevails 
over  all !  The  forests  are  in  a  blaze,  and 
the  mountains  are  wrapt  in  fiame.  Cities, 
kingdoms,  continents  sink  in  the  burning 
deluge.  London,  Britain,  Europe,  are  no 
more.  Through  all  the  receptacles  of  wa- 
ter, through  all  the  tracts  of  land,  through 
the  whole  extent  of  air,  nothing  is  discerni- 
ble, but  one  vast,  prodigious,   fiery  ruin 

Where  now  are  the  treasures  of  the  covet- 
ous ?  where  the  possessions  of  the  mighty  ? 
where  the  delights  of  the  voluptuary  ? — 
How  wise,  how  happy  are  they,  whose  por- 
tion is  lodged  in  heavenly  mansions  !  their 
"  inheritance  is  incorruptible  and  imdefiled  ;" 
such  as  the  last  fire  cannot  reach,  nor  the 
dissolution  of  nature  impair. 

But  see  !  the  azure  vault  cleaves ;  the 
expanse  of  heaven  is  rolled  back  like  a  scroll ; 
and  the  Judge,  the  Judge  appears  !  "  He 
Cometh,"  cries  a  mighty  seraph,  the  herald 
of  his  approach,  "he  cometh  to  judge  the 
world  in  righteousness,  and  minister  true 
judgment  unto  the  people !"  He  cometh, 
not  as  formerly  in  the  habit  of  a  servant,  but 
clad  with  uncreated  glory,  and  magnificently 
attended  with  the  armies  of  heaven.  Angels 
and  archangels  stand  before  him,  and  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand  of  those  celes- 
tial spirits  minister  unto  him.  Behold  him, 
ye  faithful  followers  of  the  Lamb  ;  and  won- 
der and  love  !  This  is  he  who  bore  all  your 
iniquities  on  the  ignominious  cross  :  This  is 
he  who  fulfilled  all  righteousness  for  the 
justification  of  your  persons. — Behold  him, 
ye  despisers  of  his  grace,  and  wonder,  and 
perish  !  This  is  he  whose  merciful  over- 
tures you  have  contemned,  and  on  whose 
precious  blood  you  have  trampled. 

The  great  white  throne,  Rev.  xx.  11,  be- 
yond description  august  and  formidable,  is 
erected.  The  King  of  heaven,  the  Lord  of 
glory,  takes  his  seat  on  the  dreadful  tribunal. 
Mercy  on  his  right  hand  displays  the  olive- 
branch  of  peace,  and  holds  forth  the  crown 
of  righteousness  :  Justice  on  his  left  poises 
the  impartial  scale,  and  unsheaths  the  sword 
of  vengeance  ;  while  wisdom  and  holiness, 
brighter  than  tea  thousand  suns,  beam  in 
his  divine  aspect.  What  are  all  the  preced- 
ing events  to  this  new  scene  of  dignity  and 
awe  ?  The  peals  of  thunder,  sounding  in 
the  archangel's  trumpet ;  the  blaze  of  a  burn- 


D  ASPASIO. 

ng  world,  and  the  strong  convulsions  of  ex- 
piring nature  ;  the  umiumbered  myriads  o( 
human  creatures,  starting  into  instantaneous 
existence,  and  thronging  the  astonished 
skies  ;  all  these  seem  familiar  incidents, 
compared  with  the  appearance  of  the  incar- 
nate Jehovah.  Amazement,  more  than 
amazement,  is  all  around-  Terror  and  glory 
unite  in  their  extremes.  From  the  sight  oi 
his  majestic  eye,  from  the  insupportable 
splendours  of  his  face,  the  earth  itself,  and 
the  very  "  heavens  flee  away."  Rev.  xx.  11. 
How  then  ?  Oh,  how  shall  the  ungodly 
stand  ?  stand  in  his  angry  presence,  and 
draw  near  to  this  consuming  fire  ! 

Yet  draw  near  they  must,  and  take  tlieiv 
trial,  their  decisive  trial,  at  his  righteous  bar. 
Every  action  comes  under  examination  ;  for 
each  idle  word  they  must  give  account. 
Not  so  much  as  a  secret  thought  escapes 
this  exact  scrutiny.  How  shall  the  crimi- 
nals, the  impenitent  criminals,  either  conceal 
their  guilt  or  elude  the  sentence  ?  They 
have  to  do  with  a  sagacity  too  keen  to  be 
deceived,  with  a  power  too  strong  to  be  re- 
sisted, and  (O  !  terrible,  terrible  considera- 
tion !)  with  a  severity  of  most  just  displea- 
sure, that  will  never  relent,  never  be  entreated 
more.  What  ghastly  despair  lowers  on  their 
pale  looks  !  M'hat  racking  agonies  rend 
their  distracted  hearst !  The  bloody  axe 
and  the  torturing  wheel  are  ease,  are  down, 
compared  with  their  prodigious  wo.  And 
(O  holy  Cod  !)  wonderful  in  thy  doings  ! 
fearful  in  thyjudgments,  even  this  prodigious 
wo  is  the  gentlest  of  visitations,  compared 
with  that  indignation  and  wrath  which 
are  hanging  over  their  guilty  heads,  which 
are  even  now  falling  on  all  the  sons  of  re- 
bellion, which  will  plunge  them  deep  in 
aggravated  and  endless  destruction. 

And  is  there  a  last  day  ?  and  must  there  come 
A  sure,  a  fix'd  irrevocable  doom  ? 

Surely  then,  to  use  the  words  of  a  pious 
prelate,*  it  should  be  "  the  main  care  of 
our  lives  and  deaths,  what  shall  give  us 
peace  and  acceptation  before  the  dreadful 
tribunal  of  God.  What  but  righteousness  ? 
What  righteousness,  or  whose  ?  Ours,  or 
Christ's  ?  Ours,  in  the  inherent  graces 
wrought  in  us,  in  the  holy  works  wrought 
by  us?  or  Christ's,  in  his  most  perfect  obe- 
dience and  meritorious  satisfaction,  wrought 
for  us,  and  applied  to  us  ?  The  Popish 
faction  is  for  the  former  :  we  Protestants 
are  for  the  latter.  God  is  as  direct  on  our 
side  as  his  word  can-make  him  ;  everywhere 
blazoning  the  defects  of  our  own  righteous- 
ness, everywhere  extolling  the  perfect  obe- 
dience of  our  Redemer's." 

"  Behold  !"  says  the  everlasting  King, 
"  I  lay  in  Zion  for  a  foundation,  a  stone  ; 
a    tried    stone,  a  precious  corner-stone,  a 


'  Bishop  Hall. 


LETTER  V. 


sere  foutKlation  :  lie  tliat  believeth,  shall 
not  niiike  haste,"  Isa.  xxviii.  16.  As  this 
text  contains  so  noble  a  display  of  our  Sa- 
viour's consummate  ability  for  his  great 
work  ;  as  it  is  admirably  calculated  to  pre- 
serve the  mind  from  distressing  fears,  and 
to  settle  it  in  a  steady  tranquillity  ;  you 
will  give  me  leave  to  touch  it  cursorily  with 
my  pen,  just  as  I  should  descant  upon  it  in 
conversation,  was  I  now  sitting  in  one  of 
your  agreeable  arbours,  and  enjoying  your 
more  agreeable  company. 

How  beautiful  the  gradation  !  how  lively 
the  description  !  and  how  very  important 
the  practical  imi)rov(!ment  ;  or,  I  might  say, 
the  inscription,  which  is  engraven  on  this 
wonderful  stone. — "  Behold  !"  Intended 
to  rouse  and  fix  our  most  attentive  regard, 
'{"he  God  of  heaven  speaks.  He  speaks, 
;mrl  every  syllable  is  balm  ;  every  sentence 
is  rich  with  consolation.  If  ever,  therefore, 
we  have  ears  to  hear,  let  it  be  to  this 
Speaker,  and  on  this  occasion. 

"  A  stone." — Every  thing  else  is  sliding 
sand,  is  yielding  air,  is  a  breaking  bubble. 
Wealth  will  prove  a  vain  shadow,  honour 
a>n  empty  breath,  pleasure  a  delusory  dream, 
our  own  righteousness  a  spider's  web.  If 
on  these  we  rely,  disappointment  must  en- 
sue, and  shame  be  inevitable.  Nothing  but 
Christ,  nothing  but  Christ,  can  stably  sup- 
port our  spiritu;d  interests,  and  realize  our 
expectations  of  true  hniijiiness.  And,  bless- 
ed be  the  divine  goodness  !  he  is,  for  this 
purpose,  not  a  stone  only,  but 

"  A  tried  stone." — Tried,  in  the  days  of 
his  humanity,  by  all  the  vehemence  of  temp- 
tations, and  all  the  weight  of  afllictions  ;  yet, 
like  gold  from  the  furnace,  rendered  more 
shining  and  illustrious  by  the  fiery  scrutiny. 
Tried,  under  the  capacity  of  a  Saviour,  by 
millions  and  millions  of  depraved,  wretched, 
and  ruined  creatm'es,  who  have  always  found 
him  perfec-tly  able,  and  as  perfectly  willing, 
to  expiate  the  most  enormous  guilt — to  de- 
liver from  the  most  in^■eterate  corruptions 
— and  save,  to  the  very  uttermost,  all  that 
come  unto  God  through  him. 

"  A  corner  stone." — Which  not  only 
sustains,  but  unites  the  edifice,  incorporat- 
ing both  Jews  and  Gentiles,  believers  of 
various  languages,  and  manifold  denomina- 
tions— here,  in  one  harmonious  bond  of 
brotherly  love — hereafter,  in  one  common 
participation  of  eternal  joy. 

"  A  precious  stone." — More  precious 
than  rubies  ;  the  ])earl  of  great  price,  and 
the  desire  of  all  nations. — Precious,  with 
regard  to  the  divine  dignity  of  his  peison, 
and  the  unequalled  excellency  of  his  media- 
torial offices.  In  these,  and  in  all  respects, 
greater  than  Jonah — wiser  than  Solomon — 
fairer  than  all  the  children  of  men — chiefest 
among  ten  thousand — and  to  the  awakened 


341 

altogether 


sinner,  or  enlightened  believer, 
lovely."     Cant.  v.  16. 

"  A  sure  foundation." — Such  as  no  pres- 
sure can  shake  ;  equal,  more  than  equal  to 
every  weight,  even  to  sin,  the  heaviest  load 
in  the  world.  "  The  Rock  of  Ages,"  such 
as  never  has  failed,  never  will  fail,  those 
humble  penitents  who  cast  their  burden 
upon  the  Lord  Redeemer  !  who  roll*  all 
their  guilt,  and  fix  their  whole  hopes,  on 
this  immoveable  basis ;  or,  as  the  origi- 
nal words  may  be  rendered,  "  a  founda- 
tion !  a  foundation  !"  There  is  a  fine  spirit 
of  vehemency  in  the  sentence,  thus  under- 
stood. It  speaks  the  language  of  exultation, 
and  expresses  an  important  discovery.  That 
which  mankind  infinitely  want ;  that  which 
multitudes  seek,  and  find  not ;  it  is  here  ! 
it  is  here !  This,  this  is  the  foundation  for 
their  pardon,  their  peace,  their  eternal  fe- 
licity. 

"  Whosoever  believeth,"  though  pressed 
with  adversities,  or  surrounded  by  dangers, 
•'shall  not  make  haste  :"f  but,  free  from 
tumultuous  and  perplexing  thoughts,  preserv- 
ed from  rash  and  precipitate  steps,  he  shall 
possess  his  soul  in  patience  ;  knowing  the 
sufficiency  of  those  merits,  and  the  fidelity  of 
that  grace,  on  which  he  has  reposed  his  con- 
fidence, shall  quietly,  and  without  perturba- 
tion, wait  for  an  expected  end.  And  not 
only  amidst  the  perilous  or  disastrous 
changes  of  life,  but  even  in  the  day  of  ever- 
lasting judgment,  such  persons  shall  stand 
with  boldness.  They  shall  look  up  to  the 
grand  Arbitrator — look  round  on  all  the 
solemnity  of  his  appearance — look  forward 
to  the  unalterable  sentence — and  neither 
feel  anxiety,  nor  fear  damnation. 

Such,  in  that  day  of  terrors,  shall  be  seen 
To  face  the  tliunders  with  a  godlike  mien. 


*  Roll. — This  is  the  exact  sense  of  the  sacred  phrase, 

mrr^  t'J^  t'D-  l-sal.  xxii.  !!;  xxxvii.  5.  Prov. 
xvi.  .'i.  I  am  not  ignorant,  that  some  people  have 
presumed  to  censure,  and  many  have  been  sliy  of  us- 
ing this  bold  and  vii;ori'Us  metaphor  :  which  never- 
theless appears  to  me,  of  all  others,  the  most  just,  the 
most  significant,  and  therefore  the  most  truly  beau- 
tiful. 

t  "  Shall  not  make  haste."  This  metaphorical  ex 
pression,  tliough  it  might  be  rery  intelligible  to  a 
Hebrew,  is,  to  an  English  reader,  like  some  fine  pic- 
ture placed  in  a  disadvantageous  light.  We  may  pos- 
sibly illustrate  the  prophet's  meaning,  and  exemplify 
his  assertion,  if  we  compare  the  conduct  of  Moses 
with  that  of  the  Israelites,  on  viewing  the  fatal  catas- 
trophe of  Dathaii  and  Abiram.  When  the  earth 
trembled  under  their  feet,  when  the  ground  opened 
its  horrid  jaws,  when  the  prcsumpluous  sinners  went 
down  alive  into  the  pit,  when  the  tremendous  chasm 
closed  upon  the  screaming  wretches;  the  children  of 
Israel,  it  is  written,  "  fled  at  the  cry  of  tluin,  fled  in 
wild  and  hasty  confusion  ;  forthey  said,  Icsl  iheearth 
swallow  us  up  also."  Hut  Moses,  who  denounced  the 
dreadful  doom,  Moses,  who  was  sure  of  the  divine 
])rotcction  !  Moses  made  no  such  precipitate  or  dis- 
orderly haste.  I  le  stood  calm  and  composed  ;  saw 
the  whole  alarming  transaction,  without  any  uneasy 
emotions  of  fear,  or  any  unnecessary  attempts  to  es- 
cape. So  that  his  behaviour  seems  to  be  a  clear  and 
apposite  comment  on  Isaiah's  phrase.  See  Wumt) 
xvu 


342 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


The  planets  drop  ;  their  thouglits  are  fix'd  above : 
The  centre  shakes  :  their  hearts  disdain  to  move. 

This  portion  of  Scripture,  which  I  hope 
will  both  delight  and  edify  my  friend,  recalls 
our  attention  to  the  subject  of  my  present 
letter — to  those  propitiatory  sufferings,  and 
that  justifying  righteousness,  which,  imput- 
ed to  sinners,  are  the  ground  of  their  com- 
fort, and  the  bulwark  of  their  security. 
And  what  say  the  writers  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament upon  this  point?  they,  whose  under- 
standings were  opened  by  the  "  Wonderful 
Counsellor,"  to  discern  the  meaning  of  the 
ancient  oracles  ;  who  must  therefore  be  the 
most  competent  judges  of  their  true  import, 
and  our  surest  guides  in  settling  their  sense. 
Do  they  patronize  our  interpretation  of  the 
prophets  ?  do  they  set  their  seal  to  the  au- 
thenticity of  our  doctrine  ? 

St.  Luke,  in  his  ecclesiastical  history,  has 
preserved  this  weighty  declaration  of  the 
apostles  :  "  We  believe,  that  through  the 
grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  be 
saved  even  as  they.  Acts.  xv.  11.  Here 
the  thing  is  implied. — St.  Peter,  in  the  in- 
troduction to  one  of  his  theological  epistles, 
thus  addresses  his  happy  correspondents  -. 
"  To  them  that  have  obtained  like  precious 
faith,  in  the  righteousness*  of  our  God  and 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ."  2  Pet.  i.  1.  Here 
the  point  is  expressly  asserted. — With 
equal  clearness  is  the  doctrine  delivered  by 
Matthew  the  evangelist :  "  Seek  ye  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness." 
Matt.  vi.  S3.  What  can  the  "  kingdom  of 
God"  mean  ?  An  experience  of  the  power, 
and  an  enjoyment  of  the  privileges  of  the 
gospel.  What  are  we  to  understand  by 
"  his  righteousness  ?"  Surely,  the  right- 
eousness which  is  worthy  of  this  grand  ap- 
pellation, and  peculiar  to  that  blessed  insti- 
tution. 

Would  we  learn  what  is  the  great  and  dis- 
tinguishing peculiarity  of  the  gospel  ?  St. 
Paul  informs  us  :  "  Therein  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  is  revealed,  from  faith  to  faith." 
As  this  text  leads  us  into  the  Epistle  to  the 
Romans  ;  as  this  epistle  is,  for  the  proprie- 
ty of  its  method,  as  well  as  for  the  impor- 
tance of  its  doctrine,  singularly  excellent  ; 
it  may  not  be  amiss  to  examine  its  struc- 
ture, and  inquire  into  its  design. 

The  apostle  writes  to  a  promiscuous  peo- 
ple, who  had  been  converted,  partly  from 
Judaism,  partly  from  Gentilism.  His  aim 
is,  to  strike  at  the  very  root  of  their  former 
errors  respectively — to  turn  them  wholly  to 
the  superabundant  grace  of  God,  and  esta- 


blish them  solely  on  the  all-sufficient  merits 
of  Christ. 

The  Gentiles  were,  for  the  most  part, 
grossly  ignorant  of  God,  and  stupidly  negli- 
gent of  invisible  interests.  If  any  among 
them  had  a  sense  of  I'eligion,  their  virtues, 
they  imagined,  'were  meritorious  of  all  that 
the  Deity  could  bestow.  If  they  fell  into  sin, 
sin  they  supposed  might  easily  be  obliterat- 
ed by  repentance,  or  compensated  by  a 
train  of  sacrifices."  A  few  of  their  judi- 
cious sages  taught,  that  the  most  probable 
means  of  securing  the  divine  favour,  was  a 
sincere  reformation  of  life. 

The  Jews,  it  is  well  known,  placed  a 
mighty  dependence  on  their  affinity  to  Abra- 
ham, and  the  covenant  made  with  their  fa- 
thers, on  their  adherence  to  the  letter  of 
the  moral  law,  and  their  scrupulous  per- 
formance of  ceremonial  institutions  ;  Gen- 
tiles and  Jews  agreeing  in  this  mistake,  that 
they  looked  for  the  pardon  of  guilt,  and  the 
attainment  of  happiness,  from  some  services 
done,  or  some  qualities  acquired  by  them- 
selves. 

Against  these  errors  the  zealous  apostle 
draws  his  pen.  He  enters  the  lists  like  a 
true  champion  of  Christ,  in  the  most  spirit- 
ed and  heroic  manner  imaginable.  "  I  am 
not  ashamed  of  the  gospel  of  Christ ;"  for, 
however  it  may  be  deemed  foolishness  by 
the  polite  Greeks,  or  prove  a  stumbling- 
block  to  the  carnal  Jews,  "  it  is  the  power 
of  God  unto  salvation,"  Rom.  i.  1 6,  it  is  the 
grand  instrument,  which  he  has  ordained 
for  this  blessed  purpose,  and  which  he  will 
certainly  crown  with  the  desired  success. 
Whence  has  the  gospel  this  very  peculiar 
power  ?  because  therein  a  righteousness  is 
revealed,  a  true  and  perfect  righteousness, 
which  obliterates  all  guilt,  and  furnishes  a 
solid  title  to  eternal  life.  What  righteous- 
ness is  this  ?  the  righteousness,  not  of  man 
but  of  God ;  which  was  promised  by  God 
in  the  scriptures,  was  introduced  by  God  in 
the  person  of  his  Son,  and  on  account  of  its 


•  The  phrase  is  I'/a'Tiv  sv  dixaieiruvvi.  Ifweretani 
the  common  translation,  it  proves  another  very  mo- 
mentous truth  :  "that  the  righteousness  of  our  God, 
even  of  our  Saviour  Jesus  Clirist,"  is  the  one  merito- 
rious procuriuR  (aiise  of  all  spiritual  blessings;  of 
faith,  as  well  as  of  fruition;  of  grace,  as  well  as  of 
Rlory. 


*  See  Witsii  Animadversiones  Irencia;,  cap.  7 — 
A  choice  little  piece  of  polemical  divinity  ;  perhaps 
the  very  best  that  is  extant ;  in  which  the  most  im- 
portant controversies  are  fairly  stated,  accurately  dis- 
cussed, and  judiciously  determined,  with  a  perspicui- 
ty of  sense,  and  a  solidity  of  reasoning  exceeded  by 
nothing  but  the  remarkable  conciseness,  and  the  still 
more  remarkable  candour  of  the  sentiments. 

The  Oeconomia  Fcederum,  written  by  the  same 
hand,  is  a  body  of  divinity,  in  its  method  so  well  di- 
gested, in  its  doctrines  so  truly  evangelical,  and  (what 
is  not  very  usual  with  our  systematic  writers,)  in  its 
language  so  refined  and  elegant,  in  its  manner  so  affec- 
tionate and  animating,  that  I  would  venture  to  re- 
commend it  to  every  young  student  of  divinity.  I 
would  not  scruple  to  risk  all  my  reputation  upon  the 
merits  of  this  performance;  and  I  cannot  but  lamen 
it,  as  one  of  my  greatest  losses,  that  I  was  not  sooner 
acquainted  with  this  most  excellent  author.  All 
whose  works  have  such  a  delicacy  of  com  posit  ion,  and 
such  a  sweet  savour  of  holiness,  that  I  know  not  any 
comparison  more  proper  to  represent  their  true  char- 
acter, than  the  golden  pot  which  had  manna ;  and 
was  outwardly,  bright  with  burnished  gold,  inwardly 
rich  with  heavenly  food. 


LETTER  V. 


343 


consummate  excelleiicj',  is   both  acceptable 
and  available  in  his  sight. 

This  righteousness  is  "  from  faith  to 
faith,"  Rom.  i.  17;  held  forth,  as  it  were, 
by  a  promising  God,  and  apprehended  by  a 
believing  soul,  who  first  gives  a  firm  assent 
to  the  gospel — then  cordially  accepts  its 
blessings,  from  a  conviction  that  the  doc- 
trine is  true,  passes  to  a  persuasion  that  the 
privileges  are  his  own.  When  this  is  ef- 
fected, a  foundation  is  laid  for  all  happiness, 
8 principle  is  wrought,  to  produce  all  holi- 
ness. 

But  why  was  it  requisite  that  such  a 
righteousness  should  be  provided  by  God, 
and  revealed  in  the  gospel?  Because  both 
Gentile  and  Jew  neither  possessed,  nor 
could  attain,  any  righteousness  of  their 
own  ;  and  this  righteousness,  though  so  ab- 
solutely necessary  for  their  fallen  state,  was 
infinitely  remote  from  all  human  apprehen- 
sions. The  latter  assertion  is  self-evident ; 
the  former  is  particularly  demonstrated. — 
First,  with  regard  to  the  Gentiles;  the  gener- 
ality of  whom  were  abandoned  to  the  most 
scandalous  excesses  ;  and  they  who  had  es- 
caped the  grosser  pollutions,  fell  short  in 
the  duties  of  natural  religion.  Next,  with 
regard  to  the  .Jews  ;  many  of  whom  lived 
in  open  violation  of  the  external  command- 
ment ;  and  not  one  of  them  acted  up  to 
the  internal  purity  required  by  the  Mosaic 
precepts.  From  which  premises  this  conclu- 
sion is  deduced — that  each  of  them  had 
trangressed  even  their  own  rule  of  action  ; 
that  all  of  them  were,  on  this  account, 
utterly  inexcusable  :  theiefore  by  the  works 
of  the  law,  whether  dictated  by  reason  or 
flelivered  by  Moses,  "  no  mortal  can  be  jus- 
tified, Rom.  iii.  20,  in  the  sight  of  God. 

Lest  any  should  imagine,  that  righteous- 
ness may  be  obtained,  if  not  by  a  conformi- 
ty to  the  law  of  nature,  or  the  law  of  Moses, 
yet  by  an  observation  of  evangelical  ordi- 
nances, he  farther  declares,  that  sinners  are 
justified  freely,  without  any  regard  to  their 
own  endowments,  "through  the  redemp- 
tion, the  complete  redemption  of  Jesus 
Christ,  Rom.  iii.  24-,  after  such  a  manner, 
as  may  lay  them  low  in  humiliation,  even 
while  it  exalts  them  to  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven ;  after  such  a  manner,  as  may  bring  life 
and  salvation  to  their  souls,  while  all  the 
glory  reverts  to  God  the  Father,  and  his 
Son  Jesus  Christ. 

In  the  prosecution  of  this  very  momen- 
tous subject,  our  sacred  disputant  removes 


the  contrary,  "we  establish  the  law,"*  Rom. 
iii.  31  ;  not  only  as  we  receive  it  for  a  rule 
of  life,  but  as  we  expect  no  salvation  without  a 
proper,  without  a  perfect  conformity  to  its 
injunctions.  How  can  this  be  effected  ? 
by  qualifying  its  sense,  and  softening  it  into  an 
easier  system  ?  This  were  to  vacate  the  law, 
to  deprive  it  of  its  honours ;  and  hinder  it 
from  attaining  the  due  end,  either  of  obedience 
or  condemnation.  No  ;  but  we  establish  the 
law,  by  believing  in  that  great  Mediator, 
who  has  obeyed  its  every  precept,  sustained 
its  whole  penality,  and  satisfied  all  its  re- 
quirements in  their  utmost  extent. 

Farther  to  corroborate  his  scheme,  he 
proves  it  from  the  renowned  examples  of 
Abraham  and  David-  The  instance  of 
Abraham  is  so  clear,  that  it  \^ants  no  com- 
ment :  Any  paraphrase  would  rather  ob- 
scure, than  illustrate  it.  The  other,  derived 
from  the  testimony  of  the  Psalmist,  may  ad- 
mit the  commentator's  tool  ;  yet  not  to 
hammer  it  into  a  new  form,  but  only  to  clear 
away  the  rubbish;  to  rescue  it  from  misrepre- 
sentation, and  place  it  in  a  true  light. 
"  Even  as  David  descri!)eth  the  blessedness 
of  the  man,  to  whom  God  imputeth  right- 
eousness without  works,  saying,  Blessed 
are  they,  whose  mnighteousness  is  forgiven, 
and  whose  sins  are  covered  :  Blessed  is  the 
man  to  whom  the  Lord  will  not  impute  sin." 
Rom.  iv-  6.  7.  Here  is  imputation  assert- 
ed— the  imputation  of  righteousness — of 
righteousness  without  works ;  without  any 
respect  to,  or  any  co-operation  from  any  kind 
of  human  works.  It  is  a  blessing  vouchsafed 
to  the  ungodly;  not  founded  on  a  freedom  from 
sin,  but  procuring  a  remission  of  its  guilt. 

Some,  I  know,  have  attempted  to  re- 
solve all  the  force  of  this  passage  into  an  ar- 
gument for  the  sameness  of  pardon  and  jus- 
tification ;  whereas  the  apostle  undertakes 
to  prove,  not  that  forgiveness  and  justifica- 
tion are  indentically  the  same,  but  that  both 
are  absolutely  free-  To  maintain  which  posi- 
tion he  argues  :  "  This  doctrine  is  as  true, 
as  it  is  comfortable.  It  agrees  with  the  ex- 
perience, and  has  received  the  attestation 
of  David.  When  he  speaks  of  the  blessed 
and  ha])py  man,  he  describes  him,  not  as  an 
innocent,  but  guilty  person  ;  not  as  having 
any  claim  to  the  divine  favour,  on  account 
of  deserving  performances,  or  recommend- 
ing properties  j  but  as  owing  all  his  accep- 
tance to  that  sovereign  grace,  which  for- 
gives iniquities  and  blots  out  sin.  Such  is 
the  case  with  regard  to  that  evangelical  jus- 


Jin  objection  which  is  as  common  as  it  is  |  tification  which  we  preach  ;  even  as  it  is, 
plausible.  "  Do  we  make  void  the  law  in  the  manner  of  its  vouchsafement  perfect- 
through  faith  ?"  Do  we  render  it  a  vain  in-  |  ly  similar  to  the  blessedness  celebrated  by 
stitution,  such  as  never  has  been,  never  will  the  Psalmist."  The  apostle's  eye  is  not  so 
be  fulfilled  ?  "  God  forbid  !"  This  were  a  directly  upon  the  nature  of  the  privilege,  as 
flagrant  dishonour  to  the  divine   Legislator  [  upon  the  freeness  with  which  it  is  granted  : 

and  his  holv  commandments  ;  such  ;is  we    : — : .— t— , , , 

11,1'^,.,  ,  /-v  An  incontcstiblc  inoof  tliat  the  anostic  treats  of 

would  abhor,  rather  than  connteiianee.    'Jn  ;  ti,e  „i„,-..,l  )-i„. 


344 


THERON  AND   ASPASIO. 


Nor  can  any  infer  from  the  tenor  of  his  rea- 
soning, that  to  be  forgiven,  is  the  same  as 
to  be  justified;  only  that  both  are  acts  of 
infinitely  rich  mercy,  designed  for  sinners  ; 
promised  to  sinners,  bestowed  on  sinners ; 
who  have  nothing,  nothing  of  their  own, 
either  to  boast  or  to  plead. 

In  thp  fifth  chapter,  from  verse  the  twelfth 
to  the  end,  the  sacred  penman  points  out 
the  cause,  and  explains  the  method  of  jus- 
tification :  Of  which  this  is  the  sum — That 
Christ,  in  pursuance  of  the  covenant  of  grace, 
fulfilled  all  righteousness  in  the  stead  of  his 
people  :  That  this  righteousness  being  per- 
formed for  them,  is  imputed  to  them  :  That 
by  virtue  of  this  gracious  imputation  they 
are  absolved  from  guilt  and  entitled  to  bliss ; 
as  thoroughly  absolved,  and  as  fully  entitled, 
as  if  in  their  own  persons  they  had  under- 
gone the  expiatory  sufferings  and  yielded  the 
meritorious  obedience.  I.est  it  should  seem 
strange  in  the  opinion  of  a  Jew  or  a  Gentile, 
to  hear  of  being  justified  by  the  righteous- 
ness of  another,  the  wary  apostle  urges  a 
parallel  case,  recorded  in  the  Jewish  revela- 
tion, but  ratified  by  universal  experience  ;* 
namely,  our  being  condemned  for  the  un- 
righteousness of  another.  In  this  respect, 
he  observes,  Adam  was  a  type  of  our  Lord, 
or  "  a  figure  of  him  that  was  to  come." 
Rom.  v.  II.  The  relation  is  the  same,  but 
the  effect  is  happily  reversed.  Adam  the 
head  of  his  posterity ;  Christ  the  head  of 
his  people.  Adam's  sin  was  imputed  to  all 
his  natural  descendants  ;  Christ's  righteous- 
ness is  imputed  to  all  his  spiritual  offspring. 
Adam's  transgression  brought  death  into  the 
world,  and  all  our  wo  ;  Christ's  obedience 
brings  life,  and  all  our  happiness.f  The 
whole  closes  with  this  very  obvious  and  no 
less  weighty  inference  :  "  Therefore,  as  by 
the  offence  of  one,  judgment  came  upon  all 
men  to  condemnation  ;  even  so,  by  the  righ- 
teousness of  one,  the  free  gift  came  upon  all 
men  unto  justification  of  life.'  Rom.  v.  18. 
I  do  not  recollect  any  other  similitude 
which  the  apostle  so  minutely  sifts,  and  so 
copiously  unfolds.  He  explains  it,  he  ap- 
plies it,  he  resumes  it,  he  dwells  upon  it, 
and  scarcely  knows  how  to  desist  from  it. 
I  am  sure  you  will  not  blame  me  if  I  imi- 
tate the  sacred  author,  revert  to  the  subject, 
and  quote  another  passage  from  the  same 
paragraph.  "  Much  more  shall  they  who 
receive  abundance  of  grace,  and  of  the  gift 
of  righteousness,  reign  in  life  by  one,  Jesus 
Christ.  Rom.  v.  1 7.  Here  I  am  ready  to 
think,  the  inspired  writer  puts  a  difference 
between  the  two  grand  blessings  purchased 

*  By  the  pains  and  death  which  infants  in  every  na- 
■    tion  endure,  which  are  unquestionably  punishments, 
and  to  which  they  are  dooraed  by  the  righteous  judg- 
ment of  God, 

t  "  -As  the  sin  of  Adam,"  says  Bengelius,  "  without 
any  concurrence  of  the  sins  wliich  we  ourselves  respec- 
tively connnit,  occasioned  our  ruin;  so  the  righteous- 
npss  of  Christ,  abstracted  from  all  coiisideration  of 
our  jicr6!)!i;il  obedience,  juocures  our  recovery." 


by  Emanuel — remission  and  righteousness. 
For  who  are  the  persons  which  receive  abun- 
dance of  grace  ?  They,  I  apprehend,  that, 
having  simied  much,  have  much  forgiven. 
Who  are  the  persons  which  receive  abun- 
dance of  the  gift  of  righteousness  ?  They 
that,  having  in  their  own  conduct  wrought 
out  none  which  will  bear  the  test  of  God's 
impartial  scrutiny,  have  one  placed  to  their 
account  which  the  all-seeing  eye  of  heaven 
approves.  However,  whether  the  distinc- 
tion I  have  ventured  to  propose  be  fanciful 
or  substantial,  of  this  I  am  persuaded,  that 
the  gift  of  righteousness*  must  signify  a 
righteousness  not  originally  their  own,  but 
another's ;  not  what  they  themselves  have 
acquired,  but  what  was  fulfilled  by  their 
Surety ;  and  is,  by  an  act  of  heavenly  in- 
dulgence, consigned  over  to  them.  Accord- 
ingly it  is  represented,  not  as  a  work,  but  as 
a  gift ;  and  those  who  are  interested  in  it  are 
styled,  not  workers,  but  receivers. 

I  should  but  faintly  copy  the  apostolic 
example,  if  I  did  not  once  again  avail  myself 
of  this  important  topic.  Suffer  me,  there- 
fore, to  transcribe  one  more  verse  from  this 
admirable  chapter.  "  As  by  the  disobedi- 
ence of  one  man,  many  were  made  sinners  ; 
so  by  the  obedience  of  one,  shall  many  be 
made  righteous."  Rom.  v.  19.  The  "diso- 
bedience of  one,"  is  the  disobedience  of 
Adam,  his  actual  transgression  of  the  divine 
law.  Hereby  "  many  were  made  sinners  ;" 
sinners  in  such  a  sense  as  to  become  ob- 
noxious unto  condemnation  and  death.  All 
this,  I  think,  is,  from  the  apostle's  own 
words,  indisputable.  And  if  we  would  pre- 
serve the  propriety  of  his  antithesis,  or  the 
force  of  his  reasoning,  we  must  allow,  that 
the  obedience  of  one  is  the  obedience  of 
Christ ;  his  actual  and  complete  perform- 
ance of  the  whole  law.  Hereby  "  many 
are  made  righteous  ;"  righteous  in  such  a 
sense,  as  to  be  released  from  condemnation, 
and  vested  with  a  title  to  life  eternal.  How 
clear  and  easy  is  this  meaning  !  how  just  and 
regular  this  argumentation  !  What  subtilty  of 
evasion  must  be  used,  to  give  a  dilferent 
turn  to  the  instructive  text ! 
I  This  is  the  most  consistent  sense  in  which 
I  can  understand  Rom.  viii.  5.  "  That  the 
righteousness  of  the  law  might  be  fulfilled 
in  us,  who  walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  after 
the  Spirit :"  That  the  righteousness  requir- 
:  ed  by  the  holy,  but  broken  law,  might  be 
:  thoroughly  accomplished  ;  accomplished  by 
'  our  public  Representative,  and  in  our  hu- 

1  *  I  cannot  but  wonder  at  the  assertion  of  a  late 
1  writer,  who  roundly  declares,  "  That  thereisnotone 
word  in  this  whole  chapter  relating  to  the  antecedent 
!  obedience  of  Christ's  life,  but  expressing  only  his  pass- 
I  ive  obedience."  Must  then  this  group  of  expressions 
j  — }i>taiO''Viiri — ciKaiajU,a. — umKOft — be  confined 
barely  to  the  sufferings  of  our  Lord  ?  To  put  such  a 
sense  upon  the  words  of  the  apostle,  is.  according  to 
my  apprehension,  not  to  hear  his  voice,  but  to  gag  his 
mouth  ;  not  to  acquiesce  in  the  sacred  oracles,  but  to 
uialvc  Ihciu  speak  our  own  meaning. 


LKTTEll  V. 


345 


man  nature ;  so  as  to  be  deemed,  in  point 
of  legal  estimation,  fulfilled  for  us  and  by 
us.*  This,  I  say,  is  most  consistent  with  the 
tenor  of  St.  Paul's  arguing,  and  with  the 
exact  import  of  his  language — With  the  tenor 
of  his  arguing  ;  for  he  undertakes  to  demon- 
strate the  impossibility  of  our  justification 
by  any  personal  conformity  to  the  law  ; 
whereas,  if  we  could  satisfy  its  .penalty,  and 
obey  its  precepts,  or,  in  other  words,  fulfil 
its  righteousness,  this  impossibility  would 
cease.— .With  the  exact  import  of  his  lan- 
guage ;  for  the  original  phrase  denotes  not 
a  sincere,  but  a  complete  obedience  ;  not 
what  we  are  enabled  to  perform,  but  what 
the  law  has  a  right  to  demand  ;  which  every 
one  must  acknowledge,  is  not  fulfilled  in 
any  mere  man  since  the  fall,  but  was  fulfill- 
ed by  Jesus  Christ  for  our  good  and  in  our 
stead.  This  interpretation  preserves  the 
sentences  distinct,  and  makes  a  very  natural 
introduction  for  the  following  clause,  where 
the  persons  interested  in  this  privilege  are 
described  by  their  fruits,  "  who  walk  not 
after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit;"  imply- 
ing, that  justification  and  sanctification  aie 
like  the  ever-corresponding  motion  of  our 
eyes,  inseparable  concomitants ;  and  we 
vainly  pretend  to  the  former,  if  we  continue 
destitute  of  the  latter. 

We  have  produced  positive  proofs  of  our 
doctrine  :  we  have  heard  an  apostle  declar- 
ing the  assured  happiness  and  complete  jus- 
tification of  true  believers.  Let  us  now  ob- 
serve the  same  sagacious  judge  of  men  and 
things  discovering  the  danger  of  those  self- 
justiciaries  who  reject  the  Redeemer's  right- 
eousness. 

He  is  filled  with  the  darkest  apprehen- 
sions, concerning  his  brethren  the  Jews. 
He  is  impressed  with  melancholy  presages, 
relating  to  their  eternal  state.  Rom.  ix.  2. 
What  was  the  cause  of  this  tender  solici- 
tude? Had  they  cast  off  all  religion,  and 
given  themselves  over  to  gross  immoralities  ? 
On  the  contrary,  they  were  worshippers  of 
the  true  God ;  and  had,  in  their  way,  not 
only  a  regard,  but  a  zeal  for  his  honour. 
Rom.  X.  '2.  Wherefore,  then,  does  this 
compassionate  father  in  Israel  feel  the  same 
trembling  uneasiness  for  hh  kinsmen  accord- 
ing to  the  flesh,  as  Eli  felt  for  the  endan- 
gered ark  ?  Himself  assigns  the  reason  : 
Because  "  they,  being  ignorant  of  God's 
righteousness,  and  going  about  to  establish 
their  own  righteousness,  have  not  submitted 
themselves  to  the  righteousness  of  God," 
Rom.  X.  3.  Not  knowing  that  immaculate 
holiness,  which  the  perfect  nature,  and 
equally  perfect  law  of  the  most  high  God 
require  ;  being  wilfully  ignorant  of  that  con- 

»  It  is  remarked  by  a  judiciouscritic  and  very  val- 
uable expositor,  that  the  preiiositioii  «»  somctiines 
signifies  by  or /or,  and  is  so  translated.  Matt.  v.  ."M  ; 
Heb.  i.  1.  See  Dr.  Guyse's  Exposition  of  the  New 
Testament. 


summate  obedience,  which  an  incarnate  God 
vouchsafed  to  perform  for  the  justification  of 
his  people  ;  thty  sedulously,  but  foolishly 
endeavoured  to  establish  their  own  right- 
eousness ;  to  make  it,  scanty  and  decrepit 
as  it  was,  the  basis  of  their  liojjes.  Thus 
were  they  resting  their  everlasting  all  on  a 
bottom,  not  precarious  only,  but  irreparably 
ruinous.  A  boundless  eternity  the  fabric  : 
yet  they  build  (wonder,  O  heavens  !)  on  the 
foam  of  the  waters  !  and  (w  hich  added  stub- 
bornness to  their  folly)  in  avowed  contempt 
of  that  strong  and  sure  fomidation,  laid  by 
God's  own  hand  in  Zion.  For  this  the 
good  apostle  was  afilicted  with  "great  hea- 
viness and  continual  sorrow."  For  this  he 
made  the  prophet's  pathetic  complaint  his 
own  :  "  O  that  my  head  were  waters,  and 
my  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  that  I  might  be- 
wail day  and  night,"  Jer.  ix.  1,  the  incorri- 
gible perverseness  of  my  people  !  "  For  my 
people  have  committed  two  evils,"  in  not 
thankfully  submitting  to  the  righteousness  of 
God,  "  they  have  forsaken  the  fountain  of 
living  waters,"  in  attempting  to  establish 
their  own  righteousness,  "  they  have  hewed 
themselves  out  cisterns,  broken  cisterns,  that 
can  hold  no  water."  Jer    ii.    13. 

Having  showed  their  fatal  error,  he 
strengthens  his  representation  by  displaying 
the  happy  success  of  the  Gentiles.  "  What 
shall  we  say  then  ?"  This,  however  impro- 
bable it  may  seem,  we  confidently  affirm, 
"  That  the  Gentiles,  who  followed  not  after 
righteousness,"  who  had  no  knowledge  of  it, 
and  no  concern  about  it ;  even  "  they  have 
attained  to  righteousness."*  Strange  as- 
sertion !  how  is  this  possible  ?  Doubtless, 
the  righteousness  which  they  attained, 
could  not  be  any  personal  righteousness  ;  of 
this  they  were  totally  destitute.  Instead  of 
practising  moral  virtues,  or  religious  duties, 
they  were  immersed  in  sensuality,  and  aban- 
doned to  idolatry.  It  must  therefore  be  the 
evangelical,  the  imputed  righteousness,  "even 
that  which  was  wrought  by  Christ,  and  is 
received  by  faith. "f 

Israel,  in  the  mean  time,  the  nominal  Is- 
rael, who  with  great  pretensions  to  sanctity, 
and  many  costly  oblations,  "  followed  after 


*  Surely,  this  must  signify  more  than  "  attaining 
to  the  profession  of  a  religion,  whereby  they  may  be 
justified  and  saved.  To  this  multitudes  attain,  who 
continue  as  the  prophet  speaks,  "stout  hearted  and 
far  from  righteousness:  whoi  derive  no  real  benefit 
from  their  profession  ;  but  are  rendered  utterly  inex- 
cusable, and  liable  to  more  aggravated  conaeiuna- 
tion. 

t  Surely  the  righteousness,  which  is  by  faith,  cannot 
consist  "m  humbly  committing  the  soul  to  Christ  in 
the  way  that  he  hath  appointed."  According  tojthis 
notion,  the  justifying  righteousness  would  spring  from 
ourselves — would  be  constituted  by  an  act  of  our  own, 
and  not  by  the  perfect  obedience  of  our  Lord. 

I  am  sorry  to  see  this,  and  the  preceding  interpreta- 
tion, in  the  works  of  an  expositor,  who.se  learning  I 
admire,  whose  piety  I  reverence,  and  whose  memory 
I  honour.  Vet  I  must  say  on  this  occasion,  with  one 
of  the  ancient  philosophers,  "  Amicus,  I'lato,  amicus 
Socrate?,  sed  niagis  arnica,  Veritas." 


346 

the  law  of  righteousness,  hath  not  attained  to 
the  law  of  righteousness."  "  Attained  !" 
they  have  done  nothing  less-  They  are  fal- 
len vastly  short  of  it ;  they  are  pronounced 
guilty  by  it ;  they  stand  condemned  before 
it.*  Wherefore  did  they  so  grossly  mis- 
take, and  so  greviously  miscarry  ^  Be- 
cause they  forsook  the  good  old  way,  in 
which  Abraham,  David,  and  their  pious 
ancestors  walked.  They  adopted  a  new 
scheme  ;  and  would  fain  have  substituted 
their  own,  instead  of  relying  on  a  Saviour's 
righteousness.  I'hey  sought  for  justifica- 
tion, not  "  by  faith,"  but  as  it  were  "  by  the 
works  of  the  law,"  Rom.  ix.  30,  31,  32. 
A  method  which  their  fathers  knew  not ; 
which  their  God  ordained  not ;  and  which 
proved,  as  it  always  will  prove,  not  only 
abortive  but  destructive.  At  this  stone  they 
stumbled,  on  this  rock  they  split.  Let  their 
rum  be  a  way-mark,  and  the  apostle's  obser- 
vation a  light-house  to  my  Theron. 

Our  zealous  writer  tries  every  expedient : 
He  mingles  hope  with  terror.  Having  point- 
ed out  the  rock  on  which  the  Israelites 
suffered  shipwreck,  he  directs  us  to  the 
haven  in  which  sinners  may  cast  anchor 
and  find  safety.  He  gives  us  a  fine  descrip- 
tive view  of  the  Christian's  complete  hap- 
piness. He  opens  (if  I  may  continue  the 
metaphor)  a  free  and  ample  port  for 
perishing  souls ;  not  formed  by  a  neck  of 
land  or  a  ridge  of  mountains,  but  by  a  mag- 
nificent chain  of  spiritual  blessings ;  all 
proceeding  from,  and  terminating  in,  that 
precious  corner-stone,  Jesus  Christ,  "  who 
of  God  is  made  unto  us  wisdom  and  right- 
eousness, and  sanctification,  and  redemption," 
I  Cor.  i.  30;  "wisdom,"  to  enlighten  our 
ignorant  minds;  " righteousness, "-j-  to  jus- 
tify our  guilty  persons;  "  sanctification, '"-t*  to 
renew  our  depraved  natures ;  "  redemp- 
tion," to  rescue  us  from  all  evil,  and  render 
us,  both  in  body  and  soul,  perfectly  and 
eternally  happy.  Let  it  be  remarked,  how 
carefully  our  inspired  writer  sets  aside  all 
sufficiency,   as  well  as  all  merit,  in  man. 


*  This,  1  apprehend,  is  the  purport  of  the  apostle's 
speech,  wlien  he  tells  us,  that  his  countrymen  "  had 
not  attained  luito  the  law  of  righteousness."  He  uses 
the  figure  fniaa-ic,  and  means  more  than  he  express- 
es. Somewhat  like  the  prophet  in  the  close  of  this 
chapter  whoassures  the  believers  in  Jesus,  "  they  shall 
not  be  ashamed,"  that  is,  "  they  shall  be  encouraged, 
emboldened,  established." 

t  "Righteousness  and  sanctification;"  the  former 
imputed,  the  latter  inherent.  This  preserves  a  distinc- 
tion between  the  noble  articles,  and  assigns  to  each 
a  gr.ind  share  in  the  economy  of  salvation.  To  say, 
that  if  one  of  the  blessings  is  communicated  in  the 
same  manner,  seems  to  be  cavilling,  rather  than  argu- 
ing; because  the  subjects  are  of  a  different  nature,!and 
therefore  must  be  enjoyed  in  a  different  way.  The 
«;ocoa  tree  is,  to  the  American,  food  and  clothing,  a 
habitation  and  domestic  utensils:  but  must  we  suppose 
it  administering  to  all  those  uses  in  one  and  the  same 
unvaried  method  ?  Bec^iusein  one  respect  it  is  eaten, 
in  aiiother  it  is  wore,  must  it  be  thus  applied  in  all  ? 
I  believe,  the  illiterate  savage  who  enjoys  the  several 
gifts  need  not  be  taught  the  absurdity  of  such  a  sup- 
position. 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 

He  represents  the  wliole  of  our  salvation, 
both  in  its  procurement  and  application,  as 
a  work  of  freest  grace.  Christ  is,  and  not 
we  ourselves,  the  author  of  this  glorious 
restoration,  the  cause  of  this  great  felicity. 
He  is  made  all  this  unto  us.  How  ?  Not 
by  our  own  resolution  and  strength  ;  but  of 
God,  by  the  agency  of  his  mighty  power 
and  blessed  Spirit.  He  shows  us  the  all- 
sufficient  fulness  of  Christ.  He  brings  us 
by  ardent  longings  to  Christ.  He  implants 
us  into  Christ,  and  makes  us  partakers  of 
his  merits. 

In  the  process  of  the  same  epistle,  the 
sacred  penman  enumerates  the  constituent 
parts  of  that  great  salvation  which  the  Son 
of  God  has  procured  for  ruined  sinners. 
"  But  ye  are  washed,  but  ye  are  sanctified, 
but  ye  are  justified,  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  and  by  the  Spirit  of  our  God," 
1  Cor.  vi.  11.  ''  Ye  are  washed  ;"  cleans- 
ed from  the  filth,  and  discharged  from  the 
guilt  of  all  your  inicjuities.  "  Ye  are  sanc- 
tified ;"  delivered  from  the  death  of  sin,  and 
endued  with  a  living  principle  of  holiness. 
"  Ye  are  justified  ;"  restored  to  a  state  of 
acceptance  with  God,  and  invested  with  a 
title  to  eternal  glory.  All  which  inestima- 
ble prerogatives  are  conferred  upon  the 
true  believer,  "  in  the  name  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,"  in  consideration  of  his  aton- 
ing blood  and  meritorious  righteousness. 
"  By  the  Spirit  of  our  God  ;"  through  the 
efficacy  of  his  operation,  revealing  Christ, 
and  working  faith  in  the  heart. 

Some  gentlemen  have  talked  of  a  new 
remedial  law  ;  \\  liereas  the  apostle  declares, 
"  that  Christ  is  the  end  of  the"  old,  the 
unalterable,  the  Mosaic  "  law,  for  righte- 
ousness to  every  one  that  believeth,"  Rom. 
X.  4.  Follow  the  course  of  a  river,  it  will 
constantly  lead  you  to  the  ocean.  Trace 
the  veins  of  the  body,  they  invariably  unite 
in  the  heart.  Mark  likewise  the  tendency 
of  the  law,  it  no  less  constantly  and  invaria- 
bly conducts  you  to  Christ,  as  the  centre 
of  its  views,  and  the  consummation  of  its 
demands.  The  moral  law  aims  at  discov- 
ering our  guilt,  and  demonstrating  our  in- 
expressible need  of  a  Saviour.  The  cere- 
monial points  him  out  as  suffering  in  our 
stead,  making  reconciliation  for  iniquity,  and 
purging  away  every  defilement  with  his 
blood.  They  both  direct  the  wretched 
transgressor  to  renounce  himself,  and  fly  to 
the  Redeemer,  who  alone  has  paid  that 
perfect  obedience,  and  brought  in  that  ever- 
lasting righteousness,  which  the  sinner 
wants,  and  the  law  exacts  ;  who  is  there- 
fore the  only  proper  accomplishment  of  the 
one,  and  the  only  suitable  supply  for  the 
other. 

What  is  the  grand  design  of  the  whole 
scriptures  ?  St.  Paul,  displaying  their  sub- 
lime origin,  and  enumerating  the  gracious 


LETTl-JK   V 


347 


purposes  they  are  intended  to  scivc,  writes 
thus  :  "  All  scripture  is  given  by  inspira- 
tion of  God  ;  and  is  profitable  for  doctrine," 
to  declare  and  establish  religions  truth ; 
"  for  reproof,"  to  convince  of  sin,  and  to 
refute  error;  "  for*  correction,"  or  renova- 
tion of  the  heart  and  reformation  of  the 
life ;  "  for  instruction  in  righteousness," 
in  that  righteousness  which  could  never 
have  been  learned  from  any  other  book,  and 
in  which  alone  sinful  men  may  appear  with 
comfort  before  their  God.  ,  •», 

We  ha\e  seen  the  principal  scope  of  the 
law  and  the  leading  design  of  the  scrip- 
tures ;  let  us  add  one  inquiry  more.  What 
is  the  chief  office  of  the  Spirit  ?  If  all  these 
coincide,  and  uniformly  terminate  in  the 
imputed  righteousness  of  Christ,  we  have 
a  confirmation  of  its  reality  and  excellence, 
great  as  man  can  desire,  I  had  almost  said, 
great  as  God  can  impart.  What  says  our 
Lord  upon  this  point?  "  When  he,  the 
Spirit  of  truth,  is  come,  he  shall  convince! 
the  world  of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  judg- 
ment. Of  sin,  because  they  believe  not  on 
me  ;  of  righteousness,  because  1  go  to  my 
Father,  and  ye  see  me  no  more  ;  of  judg- 
ment, because  the  prince  of  this  world  is 
judged,"  John  xvi.  8 — 11.  Is  it  possible 
for  words  to  be  more  weighty  and  compre- 
hensive? Here  is  a  summary  of  Christian 
faith,  and  of  Christian  holiness.  Not  that 
superficial  holiness  which  is  patched  up  of 
devotional  forms,  and  goes  no  farther  than 
external  performances  ;  but  tliat  which  is 
vital,  and  springs  from  the  heart ;  con- 
sists in  power,  not  in  mere  profession ; 
whose  praise,  if  not  of  men  who  are  smit- 
ten with  pompous  outsides,  is  sure  to  be  of 
God,  who  distinguishes  the  things  which 
are  excellent. 

"  He  shall  convince  the  world  of  sin,"  of 
original  and  actual  sin,  the  sin  of  their  na- 
ture, as  well  as  the  sin  of  their  life,  the  sin 
of  their  best  deeds,  no  less  than  the  sin  of 
their  criminal  commissions  and  blamable 
omissions.  Above  all,  of  their  sinning 
against  the  sovereign,  the  only  remedy,  by 
unbelief,  "because  they  believe  not  on  me." 
He  shall  convince  "  of  righteousness,"  of 
the  divine  Redeemer's  righteousness,  which 
the  foregoing  conviction  must  render  pecu- 
liarly welcome  ;  convince  them,  that  it  was 
wrought  out  in  behalf  of  disobedient  and 
defective  mortals  ;  that  it  is  absolutely  per- 
fect, and  suflicient  to  justify  even  the  most 
tuigodly.  Of  all  which,  an  incontestible 
proof  is  given,  by  his  resurrection  from  the 
dead,  his  triumphant  ascension  into  heaven, 

♦  2  Tim.  iii.  1(5.     Hjos  iTavo^iluriv. 

t  "  He  shall  convince,"  seems  to  be  the  most  pro- 
per translation  of  ii.iy^tt,  as  it  implies  the  sure  suc- 
cess which  attcMids  the  operation  of  the  divine  Spirit. 
Wan  may  reprove,  and  no  conviction  ensue;  wliere- 
aslhat  .Minighty  Agent  not  only  reproves,  but  reproves 
with  )>ower;  so  as  to  determine  the  judgment,  and 
sv.ay  the  afTcclions. 


and  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  his  Father: 
"  Because  I  go  to  my  Father,  and  ye 
see  me  no  more."*  He  shall  convince  "of 
judgment."  Those  who  are  humbled  imder 
a  sense  of  guilt,  and  justified  through  an  im- 
puted righteousness,  shall  be  taught  by  hap- 
py experience,  that  the  prince  of  this  world 
is  condemned  and  dethroned  in  their  hearts, 
that  their  souls  are  rescued  from  the  tyran- 
ny of  Satan,  are  made  victorious  over  their 
corruptions,  and  restored  to  the  liberty,  the 
glorious  liberty,  of  the  children  of  God. 

You  wonder,  perhaps,  that  I  have  not 
strengthened  my  cause  by  any  quotation 
from  the  Epistle  to  the  (Jalatians.  What 
I  design,  my  dear  Theron,  is  not  to  accu- 
mulate, but  to  select  arguments.  However, 
that  I  may  not  disappoint  an  expectation  so 
reasonable,  I  proceed  to  lay  before  you  a 
very  nervous  passage  from  that  masterful 
piece  of  sacred  controversy.  Only  let  me 
just  observe,  that  the  epistle  was  written  to 
persons  who  had  embraced  Christianity,  and 
professed  an  afiiarice  in  Christ  ;  but  ^^'Ould 
fain  have  joined  circumcision,  would  fain 
have  superadded  their  own  religious  du- 
ties to  the  merits  of  their  Saviour,  in  order 
to  constitute,  at  least,  some  part  of  their 
justifying  righteousness.  Against  which 
error,  the  vigilant  and  indefatigable  assertor 
of  "  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,"  remon- 
strates :  "  We  who  are  Jews  by  natme,  and 
not  sinners  of  the  Gentiles,  knowing  that  a 
man  is  not  justified  by  the  works  of  the 
law,f  but  by  the  faith  of  Jesus  Christ,  even 
we  have  believed  in  Jesus  Christ,  that  we 
might  be  justified  by  the  faith  of  Christ, 
and  not  by  the  works  of  the  law;  for  by 
the  works  of  the  law  shall  no  flesh  be  justi- 
fied," Gal.  ii.  15,  16.  "We  who  aieJews 
by  nature,''  the  descendants  of  Abraham, 
and  God's  peculiar  people,  have  the  tables 
of  his  law,  and  the  ordinances  of  his  wor- 
ship;  we  who  in  point  of  privileges  are 
greatly  superior  to  the  Gentile  nations,  and 
have  all  possible  advantages  for  establishing 
(if  such  a  thing  were  practicable)  a  righte- 
ousness of  our  own,  what  have  we  done  ? 
"  We  have  believed  on  Jesus  Christ ;"  we 
have  renounced  ourselves,  disclaimed  what- 
ever is  our  own,  and  depended  wholly  on 
the  righteousness  of  Christ.  For  what  end  ? 
That  by  this  "faith  in  Christ,"  which  re- 
ceives his  righteousness,  pleads  his  righte- 


*  For  if  the  work  had  been  imperfect  in  any  de- 
gree, our  Redeemer,  instead  of  taking  up  his  stated 
and  final  residence  in  the  regions  of  glory,  must  have 
descended  a^ain  into  this  inferior  world,  to  complete 
what  was  deficient. 

\  Observable,  very  observable,  is  the  zeal  of  our 
apostle  in  this  determined  stand  against  the  inostspe- 
cious,  and  therefore  the  most  dangerous  encroach- 
ments of  error.  To  express  hisardent  corjcern  for  the 
truth  and  purity  of  the  gospel,  the  works  of  the  law 
arc  menticmednolcss  than  three  times,  by  the  apostle, 
and  as  often  excluded  from  the  alT'air  of  justification. 
Thefaith  of  Christ  likewise  isthrice  inculcated,  and 
as  often  asserted  to  be  the  onlv  method  of  becoming 
righteous  before  Hod. 


848 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


ousness,  and  presents  nothing  but  his  righte- 
ousness before  the  throne,  "  we  might  be 
justified."  What  motive  has  induced  us  to 
this  practice  ?  A  firm  persuasion,  that  by 
"  the  works  of  the  law,"  by  sincere  obe- 
dience, or  personal  holiness,  "  no  man  liv- 
ing has  been,  and  no  man  living  can  be, 
justified  before  God." 

Are  you  tired,  Theron  ?  have  I  fatigued 
your  attention,  instead  of  convincing  your 
judgment?  I  will  not  harbour  such  a  sus- 
picion. It  is  pleasing  to  converse  with 
those  who  have  travelled  into  foreign  coun- 
tries, and  seen  the  wonders  of  creation. 
We  hearken  to  their  narratives  with  de- 
light. Every  new  adventure  whets  our 
curiosity,  rather  than  palls  our  appetite. 
Must  it  not  then  afford  a  more  sublime  sa- 
tisfaction to  be  entertained  with  the  dis- 
courses of  a  person,  who  had  not,  indeed, 
sailed  round  the  world,  but  made  a  journey 
to  the  third  heavens?  who  had  been  admitted 
into  the  paradise  of  God,  and  heard  things 
of  infinite  importance,  and  unutterable  dig- 
nity ?  This  was  the  privilege  of  that  in- 
comparable man,  whose  observations  and 
discoveries  I  have  been  presenting  to  my 
friend.  And  I  promise  myself,  he  will  not 
complain  of  weariness,  if  I  enrich  my  epistle 
with  one  or  two  more  of  those  glorious  truths. 
"  God  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us  who 
knew  no  sin,  that  we  might,"  not  be  put  into 
a  capacity  of  acquiring  a  righteousness  of  our 
own,  but  "be  made  the  righteousness  of  God 
in  him,"  2  Cor.  v.  21.  In  this  text  thedouble 
imputationof  our  sin  to  Christ,  and  of  Christ's 
righteousness  to  us,  is  most  emphatically 
taught  and  most  charmingly  contrasted.  Most 
emphatically  taught:  For  we  are  said,  not 
barely  to  be  righteous,  but  to  be  made  right- 
eousness itself;  and  not  righteousness  only, 
but  (which  is  the  utmost  that  language  can 
reach)  the  righteousness  of  God.  Most 
charmingly  contrasted  :  For  one  cannot  but 
ask,  in  what  manner  Christ  was  made  sin  ? 
In  the  very  same  manner  we  are  made  right- 
eousness. Christ  knew  no  actual  sin  ;  yet 
upon  his  mediatorial  interposition  on  our  be- 
half, he  was  treated  by  divine  justice  as  a 
sinful  person-  We  likewise  are  destitute  of 
all  legal  righteousness,  yet  upon  our  receiv- 
ing Christ,  and  believing  in  his  name,  we  are 
regarded  by  the  divine  Majesty  as  right- 
eous creatures.  This,  therefore,  cannot,  in 
either  case,  be  intrinsically,  but  must  be,  in 
both  instances,  imputatively.  Gracious,  di- 
vinely-gracious exchange  !  pregnant  with 
amazing  goodness,  and  rich  with  inestima- 
ble benefits.  The  incessant  triumph  of  the 
strong  and  sovereign  consolation  of  the 
weak  believer. 

Cease  your  exultation,  cries  one,  and 
come  down  from  your  altitudes.  The  term 
used  in  this  verse  denotes,  not  so  properly 
tin,  as  an  offering  for  sin This  is  a   mere 


supposal,  which  I  may  as  reasonably  deny 
as  another  affirm.  Since  the  word  occurs 
much  more  frequently  in  the  former  signifi- 
cation than  in  the  latter ;  and  since,  by 
giving  it  the  latter  signification  in  the  passage 
before  us,  we  very  much  impair,  if  not  totally 
destroy,  the  apostle's  beautiful  antithesis. 

However,  not  to  contend,  but  to  allow 
the  remark  ;  I  borrow  my  reply  from  a 
brave  old  champion*  for  the  truths  of  the 
gospel  :  "  This  text,''  says  he,  "  invincibly 
proveth,  that  we  are  not  justified  in  God's 
sight  by  righteousness  inherent  in  us,  but  by 
the  righteousness  of  Christ  im[)uted  to  us 
through  faith."  After  which  he  adds,  what 
I  make  my  answer  to  the  objection,  "  that 
Christ  was  made  sin  for  us,  because  he  was  a 
sacrifice  for  sin,  we  must  confess;  but  there- 
fore was  he  a  sacrifice  for  sin,  because  our  sin 
was  imputed  to  him,  and  punished  in  him," 
The  poor  delinquents  under  the  Mosaic  dis- 
pensation, who  brought  their  sin-oftering  to 
the  altar  of  the  Lord,  were  directed  to  lay 
their  hand  on  the  devoted  beast ;  signify- 
ing, by  this  usage,  the  transferring  of  guilt 
from  the  offerer  to  the  sacrifice.  Conforma- 
bly to  the  import  of  this  ceremony,  Christ 
assumed  our  demerit ;  like  a  true  piacular 
victim,  suffered  the  punishment  which  we 
had  deserved  ;  and  which,  without  such 
a  commutation,  we  must  have  uridergone. 
So  that  our  Lord's  being  made  a  sin-offer- 
ing for  us,  does  by  no  means  invalidate,  but 
very  much  confirm  our  doctrine.  It  ne- 
cessarily implies  the  translation  of  our  ini- 
quity to  his  ])erson  ;  and,  on  the  principles 
of  analogy,  must  infer  the  imputation  of  his 
righteousness  to  our  souls. 

One  passage  more  permit  me  to  trans- 
cribe into  my  paper,  and,  at  the  same  time 
to  wish  that  it  may  be  written  on  both  our 
hearts ;  wiitten  not  with  ink  and  pen,  no, 
nor  with  the  point  of  a  diamond,  but  with  the 
fingerofthelivingGod.  "  Yea, doubtless, and 
I  count  all  things  but  loss  for  the  excellency 
of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord  ; 
for  whom  I  have  suffered  the  loss  of  all 
things,  and  do  count  them  but  dung,  that  I 
may  win  Christ,  and  be  found  in  him  ;  not 
having  mine  own  righteousness,  which  is  of 
the  law,  but  that  which  is  through  the  faith 
of  Christ,  the  righteousness  which  is  of  God 
through  faith."  Phil.  iii.  8.  9. 

Be  pleased  to  observe,  that  in  this  con- 
fession of  faith,  and  with  reference  to  the 
case  of  justification,  theapostle  renounces  all 

*  See  Dr.  Fulk's  annotation  on  the  place,  in  that 
valuable  piece  of  ancient  controversy  and  criticism, 
"  The  Examination  of  the  Khemi'sh  Testament." 
Which,  though  not  altogether  so  elesant  and  refined 
in  the  language,  nor  so  delicate  and  genteel  in  the 
manner,  as  might  be  wished,  is  nevertheless  full  of 
sound  divinity,  weighty  arguments,  and  important 
observations.— Would  the  young  stiulent  be  taught 
to  discover  the  very  sinews  of  Popery,  and  be  enabled 
to  give  an  effectual  blow  to  that  complication  of  er- 
rors, I  scarce  know  a  treatise  bettor  calculated  for 
t.'ie  iiuvjiosc. 


LETTER   V. 


'.U9 


lliose  acts  of  supposed  righteousness  which 
wereiintecedeiit  to  his  conversion.  Nor  does 
lie  repudiate  them  only,  but  all  those  more  ex- 
cellent services  by  which  he  was  so  eminently 
distinguished,  even  after  his  attachment  to 
Christ,  and  engagement  in  the  Christian  min- 
istry. As  though  he  should  say,  "  The  privi- 
lege of  being  a  Hebrew  by  birth ;  the  preroga- 
tive  of  being  a  Pharisee  by  profession  ;  to- 
gether with  a  behadoiir  exemplary,  and  a 
reputation  unblamable  ;  all  these,  which 
were  once  reckoned  my  highest  gain,  as  soon 
as  I  became  acquainted  with  the  glorious 
perfections  of  Christ,  '  I  counted*  loss  for 
him.'  And  now,  tliough  I  have  been  a  dis- 
ciple many  years ;  have  walked  in  all  holy 
conversation  and  godliness ;  have  endured 
for  my  divine  INIaster's  name  tribulations 
above  measure  ;  have  laboured  more  abun- 
dantly, and  more  successfully,  than  all  the 
apostles ;  yet  even  these,  and  all  other  at- 
tainments, of  what  kind  or  of  what  date  so- 
ever, I  counti"  but  loss,  for  the  transcendent 
excellency  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord.  '  Yea 
doubtless  ;'i  it  is  my  deliberate  and  stead- 
fast resolution  ;  what  I  have  most  seriously 
adopted,  and  do  publicly  avow,  that,  speci- 
ous as  all  these  acquirements  nii'y  seem,  and 
valuable  as  they  may  be  in  other  respects,  I 
reckon  them  but  dung,  that  I  may  win 
Christ.  §  They  fade  into  nothing,  they 
dwindle  into  less  than  nothing,  if  set  in  com- 
l)etitiori  with  his  matchless  obedience  ;  and 
were  they  to  supersede  my  application  to 
his  merits,  or  weaken  my  reliance  on  his 
mediation,  they  would  not  be  contemptible 
only,  but  injurious — irreparably  injurious — 
lose  itself." 

You  will  ask.  If  he  rejects  all  his  own 
righteousness,  on  what  are  his  hopes  fixed  ? 
On  a  foundation,  extensive  as  the  obedience 
of  the  Redeemer's  life  and  death,  unshaken 


•  Hy/iuui,  "  I  have  counted." 

i"  H  ynftKi,  relates  to  the  present  time,  and  com- 
prehends present  attainments,  "I  do  count." — Not 
some,  or  the  greatest  part,  but  "  all  things."  What? 
Is  a  course  of  sobriety,  ami  the  exercise  of  morality, 
to  be  reckoned  as  dung  ?  All  things,  says  the  apostle. 
What?  Is  our  most  elevated  devotion,  and  enlarged 
obedience  to  be  degraded  at  this  monstrous  rate  ?  AH 
things,  says  the  apustle.  This  is  his  invariable  reply. 
And  we  may  venture  to  affirm,  that  he  had  the  miiid 
of  Christ. 

:t  T'9ri\a]is  aXXa. /i/ivrnvys  may  Ix!  translated,  "but 
truly."  .\sif  he  had  said,  "  But  why  should  I  men- 
tion any  nu;re  particulars  ?  In  tiuth,  I  count  all 
things,"  etc. 

§   ^itt  XsioT  V — Six  tu  VTTl  '-X,"'^ ''""'  ^,""'- 

Tot  Kf^S'/trn — plainly  imply  this  comparativeor  rela- 
tive sense.  Virtues,  which  arc  the  fruits  of  tlie  .Spirit, 
and  labours,  which  are  a  blessing  to  mankind,  nmst 
not  be  reckoned  absolutely  or  in  all  respects  despica- 
ble; but  only  in  a  limited  and  (lualined  acceptation  : 
(lespical)le  not  in  tlremsclves,  but  as  comiiared  with 
the  divinely  perfect  righteousness  of  Christ,  or  as  re- 
ferred to  the  infinitely  important  article  of  justifica- 
tion. 

That  .\spasio,  in  this  whole  paragraph,  speaks  the 
sense  of  our  church,  will  appear  from  the  following 
extract : — "  For  the  apostle,  .St.  Paul,  saith,  llcdoth 
glory  in  what?  In  the  contom|it,  of  hisownrighteous- 
ness,and  that  he  looketh  for  the  righteousness  of  God 
by  faith."— Homi/y  ofSalmtion,  part  2. 


as  the  dignity  of  his  eternal  power  and  God- 
head. They  are  fixed  on  "  the  righteous- 
ness which  is  of  God ;"  the  righteousness 
which  God  the  Father,  in  unsearchaljle  wis- 
dom, provided  ;  and  which  God  the  Son,  in 
unutterable  goodness  wrought.  Do  you  in- 
quire how  he  came  to  be  invested  with  this 
righteousness  ?  The  answer  is  ready  and 
satisfactory.  It  was  by  the  application  of 
the  divine  Spirit,  and  the  instrumentality  of 
faith.  Lest  any  should  imagine  that  this 
faith  might  be  substituted  instead  of  his  own 
obedience  to  the  law,  he  puts  an  apparent 
diflerence  between  the  righteousness  which 
justifies,  and  the  faith  by  which  it  is  receiv- 
ed ;  not  the  righteousness  which  consists  in, 
but  is  "  through  the  faith  of  Christ."  To 
show  the  great  importance  of  this  distinc- 
tion, how  earnestly  he  insisted  upon  it  as  a 
preacher,  how  much  it  tended  to  his  conso- 
lation as  a  Christian,  he  repeats  the  senti- 
ment, he  reinculcates  the  doctrine,  "  the 
righteousness  which  is  of  God  by  faith." 

AVill  you  now,  Theron,  or  shall  I,  poor 
unprofitable  creatures,  presume  to  rely  on 
any  performances  or  any  accomplishments 
of  our  own,  when  that  distinguished  saint, — 
a  perfect  prodigy  of  gifts,  of  gnices,  and  of 
zeal, — indefatigable  in  labours,  unconquera- 
ble by  afiiictions,  and  of  whose  usefulness 
there  is  neither  nieasin-e  nor  end  ; — when  he 
denies  himself  in  every  view,  depreciates 
all,  disavows  all,  and  makes  mention  of  no- 
thing but  the  incomparable  righteousness  of 
his  "  obedient,  dying,  interceding  Savioiu'  ?" 

What  shall  I  say  more  ?  Shall  I  attempt 
to  play  the  rhetorician,  and  borrow  the  in- 
sinuating arts  of  persuasion  ?  This,  after 
all  the  cogent  testimonies  produced,  and  all 
the  great  authorities  urged,  would  be  a  need- 
less parade.  When  our  pen  is  a  simbeam, 
there  is  but  little  occasion  to  dip  it  in  oil. 

Instead  of  such  an  attempt,  give  me 
leave  to  make  a  frank  and  honest  confes- 
sion. I  woidd  conceal  nothing  from  my 
friend.  He  should  have  a  sash  to  my  breast : 
throw  it  up  at  his  pleasure ;  and  see  till  that 
passes  within. — Though  I  never  hud  any 
temptation  to  that  pernicious  set  of  errors, 
which  passes  under  the  character  of  Socin- 
ianism,  yet  I  had  many  searcliings  of  heart, 
and  much  solicitous  inquiry,  how  far  we 
are  indebted  to  Christ's  active  righteousness. 
Thoroughly  persuaded,  that  "  other  founda- 
tion can  no  man  lay,  save  that  whi(di  is 
laid,  even  Jesus  Christ,"  1  Cor.  iii.  11,  and 
that  "  there  is  no  other  name  give,n  under 
heaven,  whereby  men  can  be  saved  "  Acts 
iv.  12,  yet,  whether  we  were  not  to  confine 
our  believing  regirds  to  a  dying  Saviour, 
was  matter  of  considerable  doubt.  At 
first,  I  was  inclined  to  acquiesce  in  the  af- 
tij-mative.  After  long  consideration  and 
many  prayers,  my  faitli  fixed  upon  the  whole 
of  Christ's  mediatorial  undcrtakinL' ;  which 


SfSe  THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 

begun  m  his  spontaneous  submission  to  I  venly  message ;  that  which  constitntes  the 
the  law,  was  carried  on  through  all  his  me-  vitals  of  their  system,  and  is  the  very  soul 
ritorious  life,  and  issued  in  his  atoning;  of  their  religion.  On  which  account,  the 
death.  This  is  now  the  basis  of  ray  con-  whole  gospel  is  denominated  from  it,  and 
fidenee,  and  the  bulwark  of  my  happftness.  styled  "  the  ministration  of  righteousness." 
Hither  I  fly  ;  here  I  rest ;  as  the  dove,  af-  I  was  farther  connnced,  that  this  way  of 
ter  her  wearisome  and  fruitless  rovings,  re-  salvation  magnifies,   beyond    compare,   the 


turned  to  Noah,  and  rested  in  the  ark. 

This  scheme  first  recommended  itself  to 
my  affections,  as  making  the  most  ample 
provision  for  the  security  and  repose  of  a 
guilty  conscience ;  which,  when  alarmed 
by  the  accusations  of  sin,  is  very  appre- 
hensive of  its  condition ;  and  will  not 
be  comforted,  till  every  scruple  is  satisfied, 
and  all  the  obstructions  to  its  peace  are  re- 
moved. Thus  I  reasoned  with  myself; 
"  Though  there  is  undoubtedly  something 
to  be  said  for  the  other  side  of  the  ques- 
tion, yet  this  is  evidently  the  safest  me- 
thod. And,  in  an  affair  of  infinite  conse- 
quence, who  would  not  prefer  the  safest 
expedient  ?  Should  the  righteousness  of 
Jesus  Christ  be  indispensably  requisite  as 
a  wedding-garment,  what  will  they  do, 
when  the  great  immortal  King  appears, 
who  have  refused  to  accept  it  ?  whereas, 
should  it  not  prove  so  absolutely  necessary, 
yet  such  a  dependence  can  never  obstruct 
our  salvation.  It  can  never  be  charged 
upon  us  as  an  article  of  contumacy  or  per- 
verseness,  that  we  thought  too  meanly  of 
our  own,  too  magnificently  of  our  Lord's 
obedience.  So  that,  let  the  die  turn  either 
way,  we  are  exposed  to  no  hazard.  This 
scheme  takes  in  all  that  the  other  systems 
comprehend,  and  abundantly  more.  In 
this  1  find  no  defect,  no  flaw,  no  shadow 
of  insufliciency.  It  is  somewhat  like  the 
perfect  cube,  which,  wherever  it  may  be 
thrown,  or  however  it  may  fall,  is  sure  to 
settle  upon  its  base.  Supposing,  therefore, 
the  important  beam  shoidd  hang  in  equili- 
brium with  respect  to  argument,  these  cir- 
cumstances cast  into  the  scale  may  very 
justly  be  allowed  to  turn  the  balance." 

Upon  a  more  attentive  examination  of 
the  subject,  I  perceived,  that  this  is  the 
doctrine  of  our  national  church ;  is  en- 
forced by  the  attestation  of  our  ablest  di- 
vines ;  and  has  been  in  all  ages  the  conso- 
lation of  the  most  eminent  saints  :  That  it 
is  the  genuine  sense  of  scripture,  and  not 
some  inferior  or  subordinate  point,  inciden- 
tally touched  upon  by  tlie  inspired  writers, 
but  the  smn  and  i«ilistance*  of  their  hea- 


*  This  doctrine  nms  through  St.  Paul's  writings, 
like  a  goUlen  warp.  While  privileges,  blessings,  and 
evangelical  duties  are  like  a  woof,  (if  I  may  allude  to 
the  ornaments  of  the  sanctuary,)  of  blue,  of  purple, 
of  scarlet,  and  indeed  of  every  pleasant  colour.  'I'he 
righteousness  of  God,  Horn  i.  1/.  The  righteousness 
from  God,  I'hil.  iii.  Ki.  Righteousness  by  faith, 
Romiii.  22.  Kighteousness  of  faith,  Rom.  iv.  II. 
Righteousness  without  the  law,  Rom.  iii.  21.  Right- 
eousness without  works,  Kom.  iv.  6.  Righteousness 
in  the  blood  of  Christ,  Rom.  v. !).  Righteousness  by 
the  obedience  of  Christ,  Rom.  v.  19.     Righteousness 


divine  law  ;  is  no  less  honourable  to  all  the 
divine  attributes  ;  and  exhibits  the  ever- 
blessed  Mediator  in  the  most  illustrious  and 
the  most  delightful  view.  All  these  con- 
siderations, under  the  influence  of  the  eter- 
nal Spirit,  have  determined  my  judgment, 
and  established  my  faith.  So  that,  I  trust, 
neither  the  subtilties  of  wit,  nor  the  sneers 
of  ridicule,  ncr  any  other  artifice,  shall  ever 
be  able  to  separate  me  from  the  grace  and 
righteousness  which  are  in  Jesus  Christ. 

Let  me  now,  by  way  of  conclusion,  re- 
view that  awfid  subject  which  introduced 
the  letter.  Let  me  suppose  the  Judge, 
who  "  is  at  the  door,"  actually  come  ;  the 
great  and  terrible  day,  which  is  hasting  for- 
ward,    really     commenced Hark  !     the 

trumpet  sounds  the  universal  summons. 
The  living  are  struck  with  a  death-like  as- 
totiishment  j  the  dead  start  from  their  silent 
abodes.  See,  the  whole  earth  takes  fire ; 
the  sun  is  turned  into  darkness  ;  and  the 
stars  fall  from  their  spheres  !  Behold, 
the  Lord  Jesus  ccincs  with  myriads  of  his 
angels !  The  judgment  is  set,  and  the 
books  are  opened. 

Observe  those  exemplary  Christians, 
whose  sentiments  I  have  been  collecting. 
They  renounce  themselves,  and  rely  on  their 
glorious  Surety.  Methinks  I  hear  them 
say,  each  as  they  quit  their  beds  of  dust  : 
"  I  will  go  forth  from  the  grave  in  thy 
strength,  O  blessed  Jesus ;  and  at  the  de- 
cisive tribunal  will  make  mention  of  thy 
righteousness  only."  At  the  same  time 
will  you,  Theron,  or  shall  I,  stand  forth 
and  declare,  before  the  innumerable  multi- 
tude of  anxious  sinners  and  adoring  seraphs, 
"  Let  those  jjusillanimous  creatures  fly  for 
refuge  to  their  Saviour's  righteousness.  We 
will  confide  in  works,  in  accomplishments  of 
our  own.  We  are  the  men  who  ha\e  per- 
sonally kept  the  divine  law,  and  want  no 
supposititious  obedience  from  another.  Let 
the  eye  that  glances  through  immensity,  and 
penetrates  the  recesses  of  the  heart ;  let 
that  holy  and  omniscient  eye,  examine  our 
temper,  and  sift  our  conduct.  We  are  bold 
to  risk  our  souls,  and  all  their  immortal  in- 
terests, on  the  issue  of  such  a  scrutiny." 

Perhaps,  your  mind  is  impressed  with 
this  solemn  scene,  and  your  thoughts  recoil 
at  such  daring  presumption.  If  so,  it  will 
be  proper  for  me  to  withdraw,  and  leave 
you  to  your  own  meditations.    At  such  mo- 


not  our  own,  Phil.  iii.  !)• 
God,  Rom.  iv.  6,  10,  22. 


Righteousness  imputed  by 


LETTER  VI. 


351 


ments  to  obtnide  on  your  oompanv,  would 
render  me  the  troublesome  und  officious, 
rather  than 

The  respectful  and  affectionate 

ASPASIO. 


LETTER  VL 

Theron  to  Aspasio. 

Dear  Aspasio. — The  last  evening  was 
one  of  the  finest  1  ever  saw.  According  to 
my  custom,  I  made  an  excursion  into  the 
open  fields,  and  wanted  nothing  to  com])lete 
the  satisfaction,  but  my  friend's  company. 
I  could  not  but  observe  how  much  your  im- 
proving conversation  heightened  the  charms 
of  nature.  When  religion  applied  philoso- 
phy, every  thing  was  instructive,  as  well  as 
pleasing.  Not  a  breeze  swept  over  the 
plains,  to  clear  the  sky  and  cool  the  air,  but 
it  tended  also  to  disperse  our  doubts,  and 
enlivenour  faith  in  the  supreme  all-sufficient 
good.  Not  a  cloud  tinged  the  firmament 
with  radiant  colours,  or  amused  the  sight 
with  romantic  shapes,  but  we  beheld  a  pic- 
ture of  the  present  world — of  its  fading  ac- 
quisitions and  fantastic  joys — in  the  mimic 
forms  and  the  transitory  scene.  Even  the 
weakest  of  the  insect  tribe,  that  skim  the 
air  in  sportive  silence,  addressed  us  with  the 
strongest  incitements,  and  gave  us  the  loud- 
est calls  to  be  active  in  our  day,  and  useful 
in  our  generation.  They  cried,  at  least 
when  you  lent  them  your  tongue, 

Such  is  vain  life,  an  idle  flight  of  days, 
A  still  delusive  round  of  sirklyjoys  ; 
A  scene  of  little  care-;,  and  Iriiiins  passions, 
If  not  ennobled  by  the  deeds  of  virtue. 

How  often,  at  the  approach  of  sober  eve, 
have  we  stole  along  the  cloisters  of  a  se- 
questered bower,  attentive  to  the  tale  of 
some  querulous  current,  that  seemed  to  be 
struck  with  horror  at  the  awful  gloom,  and 
complained  with  heavier  murmurs,  as  it 
passed  under  the  blackening  shades,  and 
along  the  root-obstructed  channel  !  Or  else, 
far  from  the  babbling  brook,  and  softly  tread- 
ing the  grassy  path,  we  listened  to  the 
nightingale's  song;  while  every  gale  held 
its  breath,  and  all  the  leaves  forbore  their 
motion,  that  they  might  neither  drown  nor 
interrupt  the  melodious  wo.  P'rom  both 
which  pensive  strains,  you  endeavoured  to 
temper  and  chastise  the  exuberant  gaiety 
of  my  spirits.  You  convinced  me,  that  true 
joy  is  a  serious  thing,  is  the  child  of  sedate 
thought,  not  the  spawn  of  intemperate 
mirth  ;  nursed,  not  by  the  sallies  of  disso- 
lute merriment,  but  by  the  exercise  of  serene 
contemplation. 

Sometimes,  at  the  gladsome  return  of 
morn,  we  have  ascended  an  airy  eminence, 
and  hailed  the  new-born  day  ;  and  followed.. 


with  our  delighted  eye,  the  mazes  of  some 
glittering  stream.  Here,  rushing  with  im- 
petuous fury  from  the  mountain's  side, 
foaming  over  the  rifted  rocks,  and  roaring 
down  the  craggy  steep  ;  impatient,  as  it 
were,  to  get  free  from  such  rugged  paths, 
and  mingle  with  the  beauties  of  the  lower 
vale  :  There,  slackening  its  headlong  ca- 
reer, and  smoothing  its  eddies  into  an  even 
flow  :  While,  deep  embosomed  in  the  ver- 
dant mead,  it  glides  through  the  cherished 
and  smiling  herbage  ;  sometimes  lost  amidst 
closing  willows  ;  sometimes  emerging  with 
fresh  beauty  from  the  leafy  covert ;  always 
roving  with  an  air  of  amorous  complacency, 
as  though  it  woidd  caress  the  fringed  banks, 
and  flowery  glebe.  Reminded  by  this  wa- 
tery monitor,  of  that  constancy  and  vigour 
with  which  the  affections  should  move  to- 
wards the  great  centre  of  happiness,  Christ 
Jesus ;  of  that  determined  ardour  with 
which  we  shoidd  break  through  the  entan- 
glements of  temptation,  and  obstacles  of  the 
world,  in  order  to  reach  our  everlasting 
rest ;  and  of  the  mighty  difference  between 
the  turbulent,  the  frothy,  the  precipitate 
gratifications  of  vice,  and  the  calm,  the  sub- 
stantial, the  permanent  delights  of  religion. 

Or  else,  with  eager  view,  we  have  sur- 
veyed the  extensive  prospect,  and  wandered 
over  all  the  magnificence  of  things — an  end- 
less variety  of  graceful  objects  and  delight- 
ful scenes  !  each  soliciting  our  chief  regard  ; 
every  one  worthy  of  our  whole  attention  ; 
all  conspiring  to  touch  the  heart  with  a  min- 
gled transport  of  wonder,  of  gratitude,  and 
of  joy.  So  that  we  have  returned  from  our 
rural  expedition,  not  as  the  spendthrift  from 
the  gaming  table,  cursing  his  stars,  and  rav- 
ing at  his  ill  luck,  gulled  out  of  his  money, 
and  the  derided  du])e  of  sharpers ;  not  as 
the  libertine  from  the  house  of  wantonness, 
surfeited  with  a  rank  debauch,  dogged  by 
shame,  goaded  by  remorse,  with  a  thousand 
recent  poisons  tingling  in  his  veins.  But  we 
returned  as  ships  ofeommerce  from  the  gold- 
en continent,  or  the  spicy  islands,  with  new 
accessions  of  sublime  improvement  and  so- 
lid pleasure  ;  with  a  deeper  veneration  for 
the  Almighty  Creator ;  with  a  warmer 
sense  of  his  imspeakable  favours  ;  and  with 
a  more  inflamed  desire  "  to  knov/  him  now 
by  faith,  and  after  this  life  to  have  the 
fruilion  of  his  glorious  Godhead." 

Sometimes,  with  an  agreeable  relaxation, 
we  have  transferred  our  cares  from  the  wel- 
fare of  the  nation  to  the  flourishing  of  the 
farm  ;  and  instead  of  enacting  regulations 
for  the  civil  community,  we  have  planned 
schemes  for  the;  cultivation  of  our  ground 
and  the  prosperity  of  our  cattle.  Instead 
of  attending  to  the  course  of  fleets,  and  the 
destination  of  armies,  we  have  directed  the 
plough  where  to  rend  the  grassy  turf,  or 
taught  the    honeysuclde  to  wind  round  the 


852 


TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


arbour,  aim  llie  jessamine  to  climb  upon  the 
wall.  Instead  of  interposing  our  friendly 
offices  to  reconcile  contending  kingdoms,  we 
have  formed  a  treaty  of  coalition  between 
the  stranger  scion,  and  the  adopting  tree  ; 
and,  by  the  remarkable  melioration  of  the 
ensuing  fiiiit,  demonstrated  (would  contend- 
ing empires  regard  the  precedent !)  what  ad- 
vantages flow  from  pacific  measures  and  an 
amicable  union.  Instead  of  unravelling  the 
labyrinths  of  state,  and  tracing  the  finesses 
of  foreign  courts,  we  have  made  ourselves 
acquainted  with  the  politics  of  nature,  and 
observed  how  wonderfully,  how  mysterious 
]y,  that  great  projectress  acts.  In  this  place 
she  rears  a  vast  trunk,  and  unfolds  a  mul- 
tiplicity of  branches  from  one  small  berry. 
She  qualifies,  by  her  amazing  operations,  a 
few  contemptible  acorns,  that  were  former- 
ly carried  in  a  child's  lap,  to  bear  the  British 
thunder  round  the  globe,  and  secure  to  our 
island  the  sovereignty  of  the  ocean.  In  an- 
other place  she  produces,  from  a  dry  grain, 
"  first  the  green  blade  ;  then  the  turgid  ear  ; 
afterwards  the  full  grown  and  ri])ened  corn 
in  the  ear,"  Mark  iv.  28  ;  repaying,  with 
exact  punctuality,  and  with  lavish  usury, 
the  husbandman's  toil,  and  the  husbandman's 
loan  ;  causing,  by  a  most  surprising  resurrec- 
tion, the  death  of  one  seed  to  be  fruitful 
in  the  birth  of  hundreds. 

But  I  forget  your  caution,  Aspasio  ;  for- 
get how  kindly  you  have  checked  me,  when 
I  have  been  haranguing  upon,  I  know  not 
what,  powers  and  v^'orks  of  natiu"e  ;  whereas 
it  is  God  who  "  worketh  hitherto,"  John 
V,  17,  who  to  this  day  exerts,  and  to  the 
end  of  time  will  exert,  that  secret  but  unre- 
mitted energy,  which  is  the  life  of  this  ma- 
jestic system,  and  the  cause  of  all  its  stu- 
pendous operiitions.  Let  this  show  you 
how  much  I  want  my  guide,  my  philoso- 
pher, and  friend.  "Without  his  prompting 
aid,  my  genius  is  dull,  my  reflections  are 
awkward  ;  and  my  religious  improvements 
jejune  ;  somewhat  like  the  bungling  imita- 
tions of  the  tool,  compared  with  the  mas- 
terly effects  of  vegetation.  However,  I  will 
proceed  ;  yet  not  from  any  view  of  inform- 
ing my  Aspasio,  but  only  to  draw  a  bill 
upon  his  pen,  and  lay  ,him  under  an  obli- 
gation to  enrich  me  with  another  letter 
upon  the  grand  and  excellent  subject  of 
his  last.    _ 

Art  is  dim-sighted  in  her  plans,  and  de- 
fective even  in  her  most  elaborate  essays. 
But  Nature,  or  rather  Nature's  sublime  Au- 
thor, is  indeed  a  designer,  and  "  a  workman 
that  need  not  be  ashamed."  2  Tim.  ii.  15. 
His  eye  strikes  out  ten  thousand  elegant 
models,  and  his  touch  executes  all  with  in- 
imitable perfection.  What  an  admirable 
specimen  is  here  of  the  divine  skill  and  of 
the  divine  goodness  !  This  terraqueous  globe 
is  intended  not  only  for  a  place  of  habita- 


tion, but  for  a  storehouse  of  conveniences. 
If  we  examine  the  several  apartments  of 
our  great  abode,  if  we  take  a  general  inven- 
tory of  our  common  goods,  we  shall  find 
the  utmost  reason  to  be  charmed  with  the 
displays,  both  of  nice  economy,  and  of 
boundless  profusion. 

Observe  the  surface  of  this  universal 
messuage.  The  ground,  coarse  as  it  may 
seem,  and  trodden  by  eveiy  foot,  is  never- 
theless the  laboratory  where  the  most  exqui- 
site operations  are  performed  ;  the  shop,  if 
I  may  so  speak,  where  the  finest  manufac- 
tures are  wrought.  Tliough  a  multitude  of 
generations  have  ah\'ays  been  accommodat- 
ed, and  though  a  multitude  of  nations  are 
daily  supplied  by  its  liberalities,  it  still  con- 
tinues inexhausted — is  a  resource  that  never 
fails,  a  magazine  never  to  be  drained. 

The  unevenness  of  the  ground,  far  from 
being  a  blemish  or  a  defect,  heightens  its 
beauty,  and  augments  its  usefidness.  Here 
it  is  scooped  into  deep  and  sheltered  vales, 
almost  constantly  covei'ed  with  a  spontane- 
ous growth  of  verdure,  which,  all  tender  and 
succulent,  composes  an  easy  couch,  and 
yields  the  most  agreeable  fodder  for  the  va- 
rious tribes  of  cattle.  There  it  is  extended 
into  a  wide,  open,  cham.paign  country,  which, 
annually  replenished  with  the  husbandman's 
seed,  shoots  into  a  copious  harvest;  a  har- 
vest, not  only  of  that  principal  wheat  whicli 
is  the  staff'  of  our  life,  and  strengthens  our. 
heart,  but  of  the  "  appointed  barley,"  Isaiah 
xxviii.  25,  and  various  other  sorts  of  grain, 
■^vhich  yield  an  excellent  food  for  our  ani- 
mals, and  either  enable  them  to  despatch 
our  dnidgeiy,  or  else  fatten  their  flesh  for 
our  tables. 

The  furrows,  obedient  to  the  will  of  man, 
vary  their  produce.  They  bring  forth  a 
crop  of  tall,  flexile,  slender  plants,*  whose 
thin  filmy  coat,  dried,  attenuated,  and  skill- 
fully manufactured,  transforms  itself  into 
some  of  the  most  necessary  accommodations 
of  life,  and  genteelest  embellishments  of  so- 
ciety. It  is  wove  into  ample  volumes  of 
cloth,  which,  fixed  to  the  mast,  gi\-es  wings 
to  our  shij)s,  and  wafts  them  to  the  extre- 
mities of  the  ocean.  It  is  twisted  into  vast 
lengths  of  cordage,  which  add  nerves  to  the 
crane,  and  lend  sinews  to  the  pi'.lley  ;  or  else, 
adhering  to  the  anchor,  they  fasten  the  ves- 
sel even  on  the  fluctuating  element,  and  se- 
cure its  station  even  amidst  driving  tem- 
pests. It  furnishes  the  duchess  with  her 
costly  head-dres.s,  and  delicately  fine  ruffles. 
No  less  strong  than  neat,  it  supplies  the 
ploughman  with  his  coarse  frock,  and  the 
sailor  with  his  clumsy  trowsers.  Its  fibres, 
artfidly  arranged  by  the  operations  of  the 
loom,  cover  oui-  tables  with  a  graceful  ele- 
gance, and  surround  our  bodies  with  a  cher- 


Flax  analicnip. 


LETTER  VI. 


853 


Lshmg  -warmth.  On  this  the  painter  spreads 
the  colours  which  enchant  the  eye  ;  in  this 
the  merchant  packs  the  wares  which  enrich 
the  world. 

Yonder  the  hills,  like  a  grand  amphitheatre, 
arise.  Amphitheatre  !  All  the  pompous 
works  of  Roman  magnificence  are  less  than 
mole-banks,  are  mere  cockle-shells,  com- 
pared with  those  majestic  elevations  of  the 
earth.  Some  clad  with  mantling  vines ; 
Bome  crowned  with  towering  cedars ;  some 
ragged  with  misshapen  rocks,  or  yawning 
with  subterraneous  dens,  whose  rough  and 
inaccessible  crags,  whose  hideous  and  gloomy 
.cavities,  are  not  only  a  continual  refuge  for 
the  wild  goats,  but  have  often  proved  an 
asylum  to  persecuted  merit,*  and  a  safeguard 
to  the  most  valuable  lives. 

At  a  greater  distance,  the  mountains  lift 
their  frozen  brows,  or  penetrate  the  clouds 
with  their  aspiring  peaks.  Their  frozen 
brows  arrest  the  roving,  and  condense  the 
rarified  vapours.  Their  caverned  bowels 
collect  the  dripping  treasures,  and  send  them 
abroad  in  gradual  commimications  by  trick- 
ling springs  ;  while  their  steep  sides  preci- 
pitiite  the  watery  stores,  rolling  them  on 
with  such  a  forcible  impulse,f  that  they 
never  intermit  their  unwearied  course  till 
they  have  swept  through  the  most  exten- 
sive climes,  and  regained  their  native  seas. 

The  vineyard  swells  into  a  profusion  of 
clusters,  some  tinged  with  the  deepest  pur- 
ple, and  delicately  clouded  with  azure  ;  some 
clad  with  a  whitish  transparent  skin,  which 
shows  the  tempting  kernels,  lodged  in  lus- 
cious nectar.  The  vine  requires  a  strong 
reflection  of  the  sunbeams,  and  a  very  large 
proportion  of  warmth.  How  commodiously 
do  the  hills  and  mountains  minister  to  this 
j)urpose !  May  we  not  call  those  vast  decli- 
vities the  garden-walls  of  nature  ?  which, 
far  more  effectually  than  the  most  costly 
glasses,  or  most  artful  green-houses,  con- 
centrate the  solar  heat,  and  complete  the  ma- 
turity of  the  grape,  distending  it  with  liquor 


*  To  David  from  .'^aul's  malice ;  to  Elijah  from 
Jezebel's  vengeance;  to  many  of  the  primitive  Christ- 
ians from  the  rage  of  persecutin;;  emperors ;  ' '  They 
wanilcreil  in  deserts  and  in  mountains,  in  dens  and 
caves  of  the  earth."     Het).  xi.  ;ill. 

+  It  is  observed,  that  the  largest  rivers  in  the  world, 
those  which  roll  the  heaviest  Ijurden  of  waters,  and 
perform  the  most  extensivecircuit  through  the  nations, 
generally  take  their  rise  from  the  mountains.  The 
Rhine,  the  Rhone,  and  the  Po,  all  descend  from  the 
Alps.  The  Tigris  lierives  its  rapid  flood  from  the 
everlasting  snows  and  steep  ridges  of  Niphates.  And 
to  mention  no  more  instances,  the  river  Amazones, 
which  pours  itself  througli  a  multitude  of  provinces, 
and  waters  near  eighteen  hundred  leagues  of  land,  has 
its  urn  in  the  caverns,  and  its  impetus  from  the  pre- 
cipices of  that  immense  range  of  hills,  the  Andes. 

If  the  reader  is  inclined  to  see  the  origin  and  forma- 
tion of  rivers  described  in  all  the  sublimity  of  dic- 
tion, and  with  all  the  gr.aces  of  poetry,  he  may  find 
this  entertainment  in  Mr.  Thomson's  autumn,  line 
7ai,  last  edit. 

Amazing  Scene  !  behold  the  glooms  disclose, 

I  see  the  rivers  in  their  infant  beds  I 

Deep,  deep  1  hear  them,  lab'ring  to  get  free,  &c. 


of  the  finest  scent,  the  mo.^t  agreeable  relish, 
and  the  most  exalted  qualities  !  such  as  dis- 
sipate sadness,  and  inspire  vivacity ;  sucli  as 
make  glad  the  heart  of  man,  and  most 
sweetly  prompt  both  his  gratitude  and  his 
duty  to  the  munificent  Giver.  I  grieve  and 
I  blush  for  my  fellow-creatures,  that  any 
should  abuse  this  indulgence  of  heaven,  that 
any  should  turn  so  valuable  a  gift  of  God  into 
an  instrument  of  sin — turn  the  most  exhilar- 
ating of  cordials  into  poison,  madness,  and 
death. 

The  kitchen-garden  presents  us  with  a 
new  train  of  benefits.  In  its  blooming  or- 
naments, what  unaffected  beauty  !  In  its 
culinary  productions,  what  diversified  riches  ! 
It  ripens  a  multitude  of  nutrimental  esculents, 
and  almost  an  equal  abundance  of  medicinal 
herbs,  distributing  refreshments  to  the  healthy 
and  administering  remedies  to  the  sick. 
The  orchard,  all  fair  and  ruddy,  and  bowing 
down  beneath  its  own  delicious  burden,  gives 
us  a  fresh  demonstration  of  our  Creator's  kind- 
ness ;  regales  us  first  with  all  the  delicacies 
of  summer-fruits  ;  next,  with  the  more  last- 
ing succession  of  autumnal  dainties. 

What  is  nature  but  a  series  of  wonders, 
and  a  fund  of  delights  !  That  such  a  variety 
of  fruits,  so  beautifully  coloured,  so  elegant- 
ly shaped,  and  so  charmingly  flavoured, 
should  arise  from  the  earth,  than  which  no- 
thing is  more  insipid,  sordid,  and  despicable, 
I  am  struck  -with  pleasing  astonishment  at 
the  cause  of  these  fine  effects,  and  no  less 
surprised  at  the  manner  of  bringing  them  in- 
to existence.  I  take  a  walk  in  my  garden, 
er  a  turn  through  my  orchard,  in  the  month 
of  December  :  There  stand  several  logs  of 
wood  fastened  to  the  ground.  They  are 
erect,  indeed,  and  .shapely,  but  without  either 
sense  or  motion  :  No  himian  hand  will  touch 
them,  no  human  aid  will  succour  them ;  yet,  in 
alittletime  theyare  beautified  with  blossoms, 
they  are  covered  with  leaves,  and  at  last  are 
loaded  with  mellow  treasures,  with  the 
downy  peach  and  the  poli.shed  j)lumb  ;  with 
the  musky  apicrot,  and  the  jtiicy  pear,  with 
the  cherry,  and  its  coral  pendents,  glowing 
through  lattices  of  green  ; 


Beneath  her  ample  leaf,  the  luscious  fig. 
I  have  wondered  at  the  structure  of  my 
watch  ;  wondered  more  at  the  description  of 
the  silk-mills  ;  most  of  all  at  the  account  of 
those  prodigious  engines  invented  by  Ar- 
chimedes. But  what  are  all  the  inventions 
of  all  the  geometricians  and  mechanics  in 
the  world,  compared  with  these  inconceiv- 
ably nice  automata*  of  nature  !  These  self- 
operating  machines  des])atch  their  business 
with  a  punctuality  that  never  mistakes,  with 


•  Automata,  or  self- operating  machines;  not  meant 
to  set  aside  the  supcrintendency  of  Providence,  but 
only  to  exclude  th«  co-operation  of  man. 
•J    .A 


854 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


a  dexterity  that  cannot  be  equalled.  In 
spring  they  clothe  themselves  with  such  un- 
studied, but  exquisite  finery,  as  far  exceeds 
the  embroidery  of  the  needle,  or  the  labours 
of  the  loom.  In  autumn,  they  present  us 
with  such  a  collation  of  sweetmeats,  and 
such  blandishments  of  taste,  as  surpass  all 
that  the  most  critical  luxury  could  prepare, 
or  the  most  lavish  fancy  imagine.  So  that 
those  coarse  and  senseless  logs  first  decorate 
the  divine  creation,  then  perform  the  hon- 
ours of  the  table. 

If,  amidst  these  ordinary  productions  of 
the  earth,  God  appears  so  "  great  in  coun- 
sel, and  mighty  in  work,"  Jer.  xxxii.  19,  what 
may  we  expect  to  see  in  the  palaces  of 
heaven,  in  the  hierarchies  of  angels,  and  in 
that  wonderful  Redeemer  who  is,  beyond 
all  other  objects,  beyond  all  other  manifes- 
tations, the  "  wisdom  of  God,  and  the  pow- 
er of  God?"  I  Cor.  i.  24. 

The  forest  rears  myriads  of  massy  bodies, 
which,  though  neither  gay  with  blossoms, 
nor  rich  with  fruit,  supply  us  \vith  timber  of 
various  kinds,  and  of  every  desirable  quality. 
But  who  shair  cultivate  such  huge  trees, 
diffused  over  so  vast  a  space?  The  toil 
were  endless.  See,  therefore,  the  all-wise 
and  ever-gracious  ordination  of  Providence. 
They  are  so  constituted,  that  they  have  no 
need  of  the  spade  and  the  praning-knife. 
N&y,  the  little  cares  of  man  would  diminish, 
rather  than  augment  their  dignity  and  their 
usefulness.  The  more  they  are  neglected, 
the  better  they  thrive,  the  more  wildly  grand 
and  magnificent  they  grow. 

When  felled  by  the  axe,  they  are  sawed 
into  beams,  and  sustain  the  roofs  of  our 
houses  ;  they  are  fashioned  into  carriages, 
and  sei-ve  for  the  conveyance  of  the  heaviest 
loads.  Their  substance  so  pliant,  that  they 
yield  to  the  chisel  of  the  turner,  and  are 
smoothed  by  the  plane  of  the  joiner;  are 
wrought  into  the  nicest  diminutions  of  shape, 
and  compose  some  of  the  finest  branches  of 
household  furniture.  Their  texture  so  so- 
lid, that  they  form  the  most  important  parts 
of  those  mighty  engines  which,  adapting 
themselves  to  the  play  of  mechanic  powers, 
despatch  moie  work  in  a  single  hour  than 
could  otherwise  be  accomplished  in  many 
days.  At  the  same  time,  their  pressure  is 
so  light  that  they  float  upon  the  waters,  and 
glide  along  the  surface,  almost  with  as  much 
agility  as  the  finny  fry  glance  through  the 
deep.  Thus,  while  they  impart  magnifi- 
cence to  architecture,  and  bestow  number- 
less conveniencies  on  the  family,  they  con- 
stitute the  very  basis  of  navigation,  and 
give  expedition,  give  being,  to  commerce. 
^  Amidst  the  inaccessible  depths  of  the 
forests,  a  habitation  is  assigned  for  those 
ravenous  beasts,  whose  appearance  would 
be  frightful,  and  their  neighbourhood  dan- 
gerous to  mankind.     Here  the  sternly  ma- 


jestic lion  rouses  himself  from  his  de!t, 
stalks  through  the  midnight  shades,  and 
awes  the  savage  herd  with  his  roar.  Here 
the  fiery  tiger  springs  upon  his  prey,  and 
the  gloomy  bear  trains  up  her  whelps. 
Here  the  swift  leopard  ranges,  and  the  grim 
wolf  prowls,  and  both  in  quest  of  murder 
and  blood.  Were  these  horrid  animals  to 
dwell  in  our  fields,  what  havoc  would  they 
make  ?  what  consternation  would  they 
spread  ?  But  they  voluntarily  bury  them- 
selves in  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  desert ; 
while  the  ox,  the  horse,  and  the  serviceable 
quadrupeds,  live  under  our  inspection,  and 
keep  \vithin  our  call ;  profiting  us  as  much 
by  their  presence,  as  the  others  oblige  us  by 
their  absence. 

If  at  any  time  those  shaggy  monsters 
make  an  excursion  into  the  habitable  world, 
it  is  when  man  retires  to  his  chamber,  and 
sleeps  in  security.  The  sun,  which  invites 
other  creatures  abroad,  gives  them  the  sig- 
nal to  retreat.  "  The  sun  ariseth,  and  they 
get  them  away,  and  lay  them  down  in  their 
dens."  Psalm  civ.  22.  Strange  !  that  the 
orient  light,  which  is  so  pleasing  to  us, 
should  strike  such  terror  on  them  !  shoidd, 
more  effectually  than  a  legion  of  guards, 
put  them  all  to  flight,  and  clear  the  country 
of  those  formidable  enemies  ! 

If  we  turn~our  thoughts  to  the  atmos- 
phere, we  find  a  most  curious  and  exquisite 
apparatus  of  air,  which,  because  no  object 
of  our  sight,  is  seldom  observed,  and  little 
regarded ;  -  yet  is  a  source  of  innumerable 
advantages  ;  and  all  these  advantages  (which 
is  almost  incredible)  are  fetched  from  the 
very  jaws  of  ruin.  My  meanuig  may  be 
obscure,  therefore  I  explain  myself. 

We  live  plunged,  if  I  may  so  speak,  in 
an  ocean  of  air,  whose  pressure,  upon  a  per- 
son of  moderate  size,  is  equal  to  the  weight 
of  twenty  thousand  pounds.  Tremendous 
consideration  !  Should  the  ceiling  of  a  room, 
or  the  roof  of  a  house,  fall  upon  us  with  half 
that  force,  what  destructive  effects  must 
ensue  !  Such  a  force  would  infallibly  drive 
the  breath  from  our  lungs,  or  break  every 
bone  in  our  bodies.  Yet  so  admirably  has 
the  divine  wisdom  contrived  this  aerial 
fluid,  and  so  nicely  counterpoised  its  dread- 
ful power,  that  we  receive  not  the  slightest 
hurt — we  suffer  no  manner  of  inconveni- 
ence— we  even  enjoy  the  load.  Instead  of 
being  as  a  mountain  on  our  loins,  it  is 
like  wings  to  our  feet,  or  like  sinews  to  our 
limbs.  Is  not  this  common  ordination  of 
Prondence,  thus  considered,  somewhat  like 
the  miracle  of  the  burning  bush,  whose  ten- 
der and  combustible  substance,  though  ir 
the  midst  of  flames,  was  neither  consumed 
nor  injured  ?  Exod.  iii.  2.  Is  it  not  almost 
as  marvellous  as  the  prodigy  of  the  three 
Hebrew  youths,  who  walked  in  the  fiery 
furnace  without  having  a  hair  of  their  heads 


LETTER  VI. 


355 


singed,  or  so  much  as  tlie  smell  of  fire  pass- 
ing on  their  garments  ?  Dan.  iiL  27.  Sure- 
ly we  have  reason  to  say  unto  God,  "  O  ! 
how  terrible,"  yet  how  beneficent,  "  art  thou 
in  thy  works. " 

The  air,  though  too  weak  to  support  our 
flight,  is  a  thoroughfare  for  innumerable 
wings.  Here  the  whole  commonwealth  of 
birds  take  up  their  abode.  Here  they  lodge 
and  expatiate  beyond  the  reach  of  their  ad- 
versaries. Were  they  to  run  upon  the  earth, 
they  would  be  exposed  to  ten  thousand  dan- 
gers, without  proper  strength  to  resist  them, 
or  sufficient  speed  to  escape  them  ;  whereas, 
by  mounting  the  skies,  and  "  lifting  them- 
selves up  on  high,  they  are  secure  from 
peril ;  they  scorn  the  horse  and  his  rider." 
Job  xxxix.  18.  Some  of  them  perching 
upon  the  boughs,  others  soaring  amidst  the 
firmament,  entertain  us  with  their  notes  ; 
which  are  musical  and  agreeable  when  heard 
at  this  convenient  distance,  but  would  be 
noisy  and  importunate,  if  brought  neai-er  to 
our  eare.  Here  many  of  those  feathered 
families  reside,  which  yield  us  a  delicious 
treat,  yet  give  us  no  trouble,  put  us  to  no 
expense,  and,  till  the  moment  we  want  them, 
are  wholly  out  of  our  way. 

The  air,  commissioned  by  its  all-bounti- 
ful Author,  charges  itself  with  the  adminis- 
tration of  several  offices,  which  are  perfectly 
obliging,  and  no  less  serviceable  to  mankind. 
Co-operating  with  our  lungs,  it  ventilates 
the  blood,  and  refines  our  fluids.  It  quali- 
fies and  attempers  the  vital  warmth,  pro- 
motes and  exalts  the  animal  secretions 
Many  days  we  might  live,  or  even  whole 
months,  without  the  light  of  the  sun,  or  the 
glimmering  of  a  star ;  whereas,  if  we  are 
deprived,  only  for  a  few  minutes,  of  this 
aerial  support,  we  sicken,  we  faint,  we  die. 
The  same  universal  nurse  has  a  considera- 
ble share  in  cherishing  the  several  tribes  of 
plants.  It  helps  to  transfuse  vegetable 
vigour  into  the  trunk  of  the  oak,  and  a 
blooming  gaiety  into  the  spread  of  the  rose. 

The  air  undertakes  to  convey  to  our  nos- 
trils the  extremely  subtile  effluvia  which 
transpke  from  odoriferous  bodies.  Those 
detached  particles  are  so  imperceptibly  small, 
that  they  would  elude  the  most  careful  hand, 
or  escape  the  nicest  eye.  But  this  trusty 
depositary  receives  and  escorts  the  invisible 
vagrants,  without  losing  so  much  as  a  single 
atom  :  entertaining  us,  by  tliis  means,  with 
the  delightful  scTisations  which  arise  from 
the  fragrance  of  fiowers  ;  and  admoiiisliing 
us,  by  the  transmission  of  the  offensive 
smells,  to  withdraw  from  an  unwholesome 
situation,  or  beware  of  any  pernicious  food. 

The  air,  by  its  undulating  motion,  con- 
ducts to  our  ear  all  the  diversities  of  sound, 
and  thereby  discharges  the  duty  of  a  most 
seasonable  and  fiiithfid  monitor.  As  I 
walk  across  the  streets  of  London,  with  my 


eye  engaged  on  other  objects,  a  dray,  per- 
haps, with  all  its  load,  is  driving  down  di- 
rectly upon  me;  or,  as  I  ride  along  the 
road,  musing  and  unapprehensive,  a  chariot 
and  six  is  whirling  on,  with  a  rapid  career,  at 
the  heels  of  my  horse.  The  air,  like  a  vi- 
gilant friend  in  pain  for  my  welfare,  imme- 
diately takes  the  alarm  ;  and,  while  the  dan- 
ger is  at  a  considerable  distance,  despatches 
a  courier  to  advertise  me  of  the  approaching 
mischief.  It  even  thunders  in  my  ear  ;  and 
with  a  clamorous  but  kind  importunity, 
urges  to  be  upon  my  guard,  and  provide  for 
my  safety. 

The  air  wafts  to  our  sense  the  modu- 
lations of  music,  and  the  more  agreeable  en- 
tertainments of  refined  conversation.  When 
Myrtilla  strikes  the  silver  stiings,  and  teaches 
the  willing  harjjsicord  to  warble  with  her 
Creator's  praise;  when  her  sacred  sonata 
warms  the  heart  with  devotion,  and  wings 
our  desire  to  heaven  : — when  Cleora  tunes 
her  song,  or  the  nightingale  imitates  her 
enchanting  voice  ;  when  she  heightens 
eveiy  melodious  note  with  her  adored  Re- 
deemer's ,  name  ;  and  so  smooths  her 
charming  tones,  so  breathes  her  rapturous 
soul,  "that  God's  own  ear  listens  debghted  :" 
when  wisdom  takes  its  seat  on  Mitio's 
tongue,  and  flows  in  perspicuous  periods 
and  instructive  truths,  amidst  the  chosen 
circle  of  his  acquaintance  ; — when  benevo- 
lence, associated  with  persuasion,  dwell  on 
Nicander's  lips,  and  plead  the  cause  of  in- 
jured innocence  or  oppressed  virtue  : when 

goodness,  leagued  with  happiness,  accom- 
pany Eusebius  into  the  pulpit,  and  reclaim 
the  bbertine  from  the  slavery  of  his  vices, 
disengage  the  infidel  from  the  fascina- 
ation  of  his  prejudices,  and  so  afl'ectionate- 
ly,  so  pathetically  invite  the  whole  audience 
to  partake  the  unequalled  joys  of  pure  reli- 
gion ; — in  all  these  cases,  the  air  distributes 
every  musical  variation  with  the  utmost  ex- 
actness, and  delivers  the  speaker's  message 
with  the  most  punctual  fidelity  !  Whereas 
without  this  internuncio,  all  would  be  sul- 
len and  unmeaning  silence.  We  should 
lose  both  the  pleasure  and  the  profit  ; 
neither  be  charmed  with  the  harmonious, 
nor  improved  by  the  articulate  accents. 

Tlie  bieezcs  of  the  air,  when  vague  and 
unconfined,  are  so  vcjy  gentle,  that  they 
sport  with  tlic  most  inoflfensive  wantonness 
amidst  Oi)hclia's  locks,  and  scarce  disajust  a 
single  curl.  But,  when  collected  and  ap- 
I)licd  by  the  contrivance;  of  man,  tliey  act 
with  such  prodigious  force,  as  is  sufii'cient 
to  whirl  round  the  hugcst  wheels,  tliough 
clogged  with  the  most  encumbering  loads  ; 
They  make  the  ponderous  millstones  mova 
as  swiftly  as  the  dancer's  heel,  and  the 
massy  beams  play  as  nimbly  as  the  musi- 
cian's finger. 

If  we  climb  in  sjjcculation  the  higher  re- 


336 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


giong,  we  find  an  endless  succession  of 
clouds,  fe  d  by  evaporations  from  the  ocean. 
The  cloud  s  themselves  are  a  kind  of  ocean, 
suspended  in  the  air  with  amazing  skill, 
They  travel  in  detached  parties,  and  in  the 
quality  of  itinerant  cisterns,  round  all  the 
terrestrial  globe.  They  fructify,  by  proper 
communications  of  moisture,  the  spacious 
pastures  of  the  wealthy,  and  gladden,  with 
no  less  liberal  showers,  the  cottager's 
little  spot.  Nay,  so  condescending  is  the 
benignity  of  their  great  Proprietor,  that  they 
"  satisfy  the  desolate  and  waste  ground  ; 
and  cause,  even  in  the  most  uncultivated 
wilds,  the  bud  of  the  tender  herb  to  spring 
forth,"  Job  xxxviii.  27,  that  the  natives  of 
the  lonely  desert,  those  savage  herds  which 
know  no  master's  stall,  may  nevertheless  ex- 
perience the  care,  and  rejoice  in  the  boimty 
of  an  all-supporting  parent. 
1^  How  wonderful !  that  the  water,  which  is 
much  denser  and  far  heavier  than  the  air, 
should  rise  into  it,  make  its  way  through  it, 
and  take  a  station  in  the  very  uppermost 
regions  of  it !  This,  one  would  imagine, 
were  almost  as  impossible  as  for  the  rivers 
to  run  back  to  their  source.  Yet  Provi- 
dence has  contrived  a  way  to  render  it  not 
only  practicable,  but  matter  of  continual  oc- 
currence. 

How  wonderful !  that  pendent  lakes 
shoidd  be  diffused,  or  fluent  mountains  heap- 
ed over  our  heads ;  and  both  sustained  in 
the  thiimest  parts  of  the  atmosphere  ?  We 
little  think  of  that  surprismg  expedient, 
which,  without  conduits  of  stone,  or  vessels 
of  brass,  keeps  such  loads  of  water  in  a 
buoyant  state.  Job  and  Elihu  considered 
this,  and  were  struck  with  holy  admiration. 
"Dost  thou  know  the  balancings  of  the 
clouds  ?"  how  such  ponderous  bodies  are 
made  to  hang  with  an  even  poise,  and  hover 
like  the  lightest  down  ?  "  These  are  the 
wondrous  works  of  him  who  is  perfect  in 
knowledge,"  Job  xxxvii.  16.  "Hebindeth 
up  the  waters  in  his  thick  clouds,  and  the 
cloud,"  though  nothing  is  more  loose  and 
fluid,  becomes,  by  his  almighty  order,  strong 
and  tenacious  as  casks  of  iron  :  it  "  is  not 
rent,"  Job  xxvi.  8,  under  all  the  weight. 

When  the  sluices  are  opened,  and  the  wa- 
ters descend,  we  might  reasonably  suspect 
that  they  should  burst  forth  in  cataracts,  or 
pour  out  themselves  in  torrents.  Whereas, 
instead  of  such  a  disorderly  and  precipitate 
effusion,  which  would  be  infinitely  perni- 
cious, they  coalesce  into  globules,  and  are 
dispensed  in  gentle  showers.  They  are  of- 
ten attenuated  into  the  smallness  of  a  hair,* 
they  spread  themselves,   as  if  they  were 


•  The  Hebrew  words,  which  convey  the  idea  of 
gentle  rain,  signify  a  portion  of  water,  made  small 
as  a  hair,  or  divided  into  millions  of  parts,  Deut. 
xxxii  .2. 


stjained  through  the  orifices  of  the  finest 
watering-pot,  and  form  those  "  small  drops 
of  rain,  which  the  clouds  distil  upon  man 
abundantly,"  Job  xxxvi.  28.  Thus,  instead 
of  drowning  the  earth,  and  sweeping  away 
its  fmits,  they  cherish  universal  nature,  and 
in  conformity  to  the  practice  of  their  great 
Master,  distiibute  their  humid  stores  to 
men,  to  animals  and  vegetables,  "  as  they 
are  able  to  bear  them,"  Mark  iv.  33. 

Besides  the  reservoirs  of  water,  here  are 
cantoned  various  parts  of  winds,  mild  or 
fierce,  gentle  or  boisterous,  furnished  with 
breezy  wings,  to  fan  the  glowing  firmament, 
and  diffuse  refreshment  on  a  fainting  world  ; 
or  else  fitted  to  act  as  an  universal  besom, 
and,  by  sweeping  the  chambers  of  the  at- 
mosphere, to  preserve  the  fine  aerial  fluid 
free  from  feculencies.  Without  this  whole- 
some agency  of  the  winds,  the  air  would 
stagnate,  become  putrid,  and  siu-round  us, 
in  the  literal  sense  of  the  words,  "with 
darkness  that  might  be  felt."  Exod.  x.  21. 
London,  Paris,  and  all  the  great  cities  in 
the  world,  instead  of  being  the  seats  of  ele- 
gance, would  degenerate  into  sinks  of  cor- 
ruption. 

At  sea,  the  winds  swell  the  mariner's 
sails,  and  speed  his  course  along  the  watery 
way ;  speed  it  far  more  effectually  than  a 
theusand  rowers,  bending  to  their  strokes, 
and  tugging  at  the  oar.  By  land,  they  per- 
form the  office  of  an  immense  seedman,  and 
scatter  abroad  the  reproductive  principles 
of  a  midtitude  of  plants,  which,  though  the 
staff  of  life  to  many  animals,  are  too  small 
for  the  management,  or  too  mean  for  the 
attention  of  man.  "  He  bringeth  the  winds 
out  of  his  treasuries,"  Psalm  cxxxv.  7,  is 
a  very  just  observation,  whether  it  relate  to 
God's  absolute  and  unconti'oUable  dominion 
over  this  most  potent  meteor,  or  to  its  wel- 
come and  salutary  influence  on  aU  the  face 
of  natiu^e. 

Here  are  lightnings  stationed.  Though 
dormant  at  present,  they  are  in  act  to  spring, 
and  launch  the  livid  flame,  whenever  their 
piercing  flash  is  necessary  to  destroy  the 
sidphureous  vapoiu's,  or  dislodge  any  other 
noxious  matter  which  might  be  prejudicial 
to  the  delicate  temperatiure  of  the  ether,  and 
obsciure  its  more  crystalline  transparency. 

Above  all  is  situate  a  radiant  and  majestic 
orb,  which  enlightens  the  tracts,  cheers  the 
inhabitants,  and  colours  all  the  productions 
of  this  habitable  globe.  While  the  air,  by 
a  singular  address  in  managing  the  rays, 
amplifies  their  usefidness,  its  reflecting  pow- 
er* augments  that  heat,  which  is  the  life  of 


•  The  air  is  a  curious  cover,  which,  without  op- 
pressing the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  with  any  per- 
ceivable weight,  confines,  reflects,  and  thereby  in- 
creases the  vivifying  heat  of  the  sun.  The  air  in- 
creases this  kindly  heat,  much  in  the  same  manner  as 
our  garments  by  day,  or  bedclothes  by  night,  give 


LETTER  VI. 


357 


nature,  its  refrfictinjzf  power  pro'/ongs  that 
sj)lendoiir  which  is  the  beauty  of  the  crea- 
tion. These  emanations  of  light,  though 
formed  of  inactive  matter,  yet  (astonishing 
Jipparatus  of  iUmighty  wisdom  !)  are  refined 
almost  to  the  subtilty  of  spirit,  and  are 
scarce  inferior  even  to  thought  in  speed. 
By  which  means  they  spread  themselves, 
with  a  kind  of  instantaneous  swiftness, 
through  the  circumference  of  a  whole  hem- 
isphere ;  and  though  they  fill,  wherever 
tliey  pervade,  yet  they  straiten  no  place, 
embarrass  no  one,  encumber  nothing. 

These  give  the  diamond  its  brilliancy, 
and  the  velvet  its  gloss  :  to  these,  the  cheer- 
ful eye  is  obliged  for  its  lively  sparkle,  and 
the  modest  cheek  for  its  rosy  blush.  These, 
attending  the  judicious  touches  of  the  pen- 
cil, bid  the  drapery  flow,  and  the  embodied 
figure  arise  ;  bid  the  countenance  wear  the 
calm  serenity  of  thought,  or  be  agitated  with 
the  wild  transports  of  passion — Without 
this  circumstance  of  colour,  we  should  want 
all  the  entertainments  of  vision,  and  be  at  a 
loss  to  distinguish  one  thing  from  another. 
We  should  hesitate  to  pronounce,  and  must 
take  a  little  journey  to  determhie,  whether 
yonder  enclosure  contains  a  piece  of  pastur- 
:ige,  or  a  plot  of  arable  land.  We  should 
question,  and  could  not  very  expeditiously 
resolve,  whether  the  next  person  we  meet 
be  a  soldier  in  his  regimentals,  or  a  swain 
in  his  holiday-suit ;  a  bride  in  her  ornaments, 
or  a  widow  in  her  weeds.  But  colour,  like 
a  particular  livery,  characterises  the  class 
to  which  every  individual  belongs.  It  is  the 
label  which  indicates,  upon  the  first  inspec- 
tion, its  respective  quality.  It  is  the  ticket 
wliich  guides  our  choice,  and  directs  our 
hand.' 


additional  warmth  to  our  bodies.  Whereas,  when 
tlie  aerial  vestment  grows  thin,  or,  to  sjieak  more 
l>hilosophically,  when  the  air  becomes  less  in  quanti- 
ty, and  more  attenuated  in  quality,  the  solar  warmth 
is  very  sensibly  diminished.  Travellers  on  the  lofty 
mountains  of  America  sometimes  experience,  to  their 
torritjle  cost,  the  truth  of  this  observation.  Though 
the  clime,  at  the  foot  of  those  i)rodigious  hills,  is 
liot  and  sultry,  yet,  on  their  summits,  the  cold  rages 
with  such  excessive  severity,  that  it  is  no  unusual 
calamity,  for  the  horse  and  his  rider  to  be  frozen  to 
death.  We  have,  therefore,  great  reason  to  bless  the 
Supreme  Disposer  of  things,  for  placing  us  in  the 
commodious  concavity,  or  rather,  under  the  cherish- 
ing wings  of  an  atmosphere. 

*  This,  1  believe,  suggests  the  true  sense  of  those 
noble  metaphors  used  by  the  divine  speaker:  "  It  is 
turned  as  clay  to  the  seal,  and  they  stand  as  a  gar- 
ment ;" — It,  the  earth  and  all  its  productions,  receive 
from  the  rising  sun  both  colour  and  beauty ;  just  as 
the  soft  clay  and  the  melting  wax  receive  an  elegant 
impression  from  the  seal. — "They  (the  morning  and 
the  day-spring,  mentioned  in  a  preceding  verse,) 
stand  as  a  garment ;"  they  act  the  part  of  a  magnifi- 
cent and  universal  clothmg  :  give  all  visible,  objects 
their  comely  aspect  and  graceful  distinctions.  Job 
xxxviii.  14. 

What  bold  and  fine  images  are  here.  The  sea  had 
been  described  as  an  infant,  changeable,  froward,  and 
impetuous,  with  thick  darkness  for  its  swaddling- 
banrt.  Tlie  light  is  represented  as  an  handmaid,  at- 
tending to  dress  the  creation;  and  executing  the 
Creator's  orders,  with  a  punctuality  that  never  fails, 
with  a  speed  that  cannot  be  c<iuaUed. 


We  have  cursorily  surveyed  the  upper 
rooms  of  our  great  habitation,  and  taken  a 
turn  along  the  ground-floor  ;  if  we  descend 
into  the  subterraneous  lodgments,  the  cellars 
of  the  stately  structure,  we  shall  there  also 
find  the  most  exquisite  contrivance  acting  in 
concert  with  the  most  profuse  goodness. 
Here  are  various  minerals  of  sovereign  ef- 
ficacy in  medicine,  which  rectify  the  vitiat- 
ed blood,  and  quicken  the  languid  spirits  ; 
which  often  rekindle  the  fading  bloom  in 
the  virgin's  complexion,  and  re-invigorate 
the  enfeebled  arm  of  manhood.  Here  are 
beds  fraught  with  metals  of  the  richest  va- 
lue :  From  hence  come  the  golden  treasures, 
from  hence  the  silver  ores,  which  are  the 
very  life  of  traffic,  and  circidate  through  the 
body  politic  as  the'  vital  fluid  through  the 
animal  frame,  which,  in  the  refining  hand  of 
charity,  are  feet  to  the  lame,  and  eyes  to  the 
blind,  and  make  the  widow's  heart 'sing  for 
joy.  Here  are  mines,  which  'yield  a  metal 
of  meaner  aspect,  but  of  a  firmer  cohesion, 
and  of  superior  usefulness  ;  A  metal  that 
constitutes  almost  all  the  implements  with 
which  art  executes  her  various  designs. 
Without  the  assistance  of  iron,  trade  would 
be  reduced  to  the  lowest  ebb ;  commerce 
would  feel  her  wings  clipped,  and  every  spe- 
cies of  mechanic  skill  either  utterly  fail, 
or  be  miserably  baffled.  Without  the  as- 
sistance of  iron,  it  would  be  almost  impos- 
sible to  rear  the  steady  mast,  to  display  the 
daring  canvass,  or  drop  the  faithful  anchor. 
Destitute  of  this  ever-needfid  commodity, 
we  should  have  no  plough  to  furrow  the  soil, 
no  shuttle  to  traverse  the  loom,  scarce  any 
ornament  for  polite,  or  any  utensil  for  ortiin- 
ary  life. 

Here  is  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  combust- 
ible materials,*  which  supply  the  whole  na- 
tion with  fuel.  These  present  their  mini- 
strations in  the  kitchen  ;  and  yielding  them- 
selves as  aliment  to  the  flame,  render  our 
food  both  palatable  and  healthy.  These  ofl^er 
their  service  at  the  forge,  and  with  their 
piercing  heat  molify  the  most  stubborn  bars, 
till  they  become  pliant  to  the  stroke  of  the 
hammer.  The  coals  poiu*  themselves  like- 
wise into  the  glass-houses  :  They  rage, 
amidst  those  astonishing  furnaces  with  ir- 
resistible but  useful  fierceness.  They  lique- 
fy even  the  obdurate  flint,  and  make  the 
most  rigid  substances  far  more  ductile 
than  the  softest  clay,  or  the  melting  wax  ; 
make  them  obsequious,  not  only  to  the  light- 
est touch,  but  to  the  impressions  of  our  very 
breath. 

By  this  means  we  are  furnished,  and  from 


•  As  for  the  earth,  says  Job,  out  of  it  cometh  breadJ 
com,  vegetables,  and  whatever  is  good  for  food,  spring 
from  its  surface.  While  under  it  is  turned  up  as  it 
were  fire ;  its  lower  parts,  its  deeper  strata,  yield  com- 
bustible materials,  which  are  easily  enkindled  into 
fire,  and  administer  the  most  substantial  fuel  for  the 
flame.    Job  xxviii.  5. 


358 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


the  coargest  ingredients,  with  the  most  cu- 
rious, beautiful,  and  serviceable  manufacture 
in  the  world :  A  manufacture  which  trans- 
mits the  light  and  warmth  of  the  sun  into 
our  houses  ;  yet  excludes  the  annoyance  of 
the  rains,  and  violence  of  the  winds.  Which 
gives  new  eyes  to  decrepit  age,  and  vastly 
more  enlarged  views  to  philosophy  and 
science ;  which  leads  up  the  astronomer's 
discernment  even  to  the  satelites  of  Saturn, 
and  carries  down  the  naturalist's  observation 
as  far  as  the  animalcule  race  ;  bringing  near 
what  is  immensely  remote,  and  making  vis- 
ible what,  to  our 'unassisted  sight,  would  be 
absolutely  imperceptible. 

We  have  also,  when  the  sun  withdraws 
his  shining,  an  expedient  to  supply  his  place. 
We  can  create  an  artificial  day  in  our  rooms, 
and  prolong  our  studies,  or  pursue  our  busi- 
ness, under  its  cheering  influence.  With 
beaming  tapers  and  ruddy  fires,  we  chase 
the  darkness,  and  mitigate  the  cold ;  we 
cherish  conversation,  and  cultivate  the  so- 
cial spirit.  We  render  those  very  intervals 
of  time  some  of  the  most  delightful  por- 
tions of  our  life,  which  otherwise  would  be 
a  joyless  and  unimproving  void. 

These  obscure  caverns  are  the  birth-place 
of  the  most  sparkling  gems  ;  which,  when 
nicely  polished,  and  prodigal  of  their  lustre, 
stand  candidates  for  a  place  on  the  royal 
crown,  or  a  seat  on  the  virtuous  fair  one's 
breast ;  and,  I  will  not  with  our  men  of 
gallantry  say,  emulate  the  living  brilliancy 
of  her  eyes,  but  serve  as  a  foil  to  set  off  the 
loveliness  and  excellency  of  her  accom- 
plished mind,  and  amiable  conversation ; 
"  whose  price,"  according  to  the  unerring 
estimate  of  inspiration,  is  superior  to  sap- 
phires, "is  far  above  rubies,"  Prov.  xxxi.  10. 

Here  are  quarries  stocked  with  stones, 
inferior  in  beauty  to  the  jeweller's  ware, 
but  much  more  eminently  beneficial ;  which, 
when  properly  ranged,  and  cemented  with 
a  tenacious  mortar,  form  the  convenient 
abodes  of  peace,  and  build  the  strongest 
fortifications  of  war  ;  defending  us  from  the 
inclemencies  of  the  weather,  and  the  more 
formidable  assaults  of  our  enemies.  These 
constitute  the  arches  of  the  bridge  which 
convey  the  traveller,  with  perfect  security, 
over  the  deep  and  rapid  stream.  These 
strengthen  the  arms,  the  stupendous  arms, 
of  the  mole ;  which  stretch  themselves  far 
into  the  ocean,  break  the  impetuosity  of  the 
surge,  and  screen  the  bark  from  tempestu- 
ous seas.  These  stony  treasures  are  com- 
paratively soft,  while  they  continue  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  but  acquire  an  increas- 
ing hardness  when  exposed  to  the  open  air. 
Was  this  remarkable  peculiarity  reversed, 
what  difficulties  would  attend  the  labours 
of  the  mason?  His  materials  could  not 
be  extracted  from  their  bed,  nor  fashioned 
for  his  purpose,  without  infinite  toil.    Were 


his  work  completed,  it  could  not  long  with- 
srfend  the  fury  of  the  elements  ;  but,  insen- 
sibly mouldering,  or  incessantly  decaying, 
would  elude  the  expectations  of  the  ownier  ; 
perhaps  might  prove  an  immature  grave, 
instead  of  a  durable  dwelling. 

Here  are  various  assortments  or  vast 
layers  of  clay ;  which,  however  contempti- 
ble in  its  appearance,  is  abundantly  more 
advantageous  than  the  rocks  of  diamond, 
or  the  veins  of  gold.  This  is  moulded, 
with  great  expedition  and  ease,  into  vessels 
of  any  shape,  and  of  almost  every  size. 
Some  so  delicately  fine,  that  they  compose 
the  most  elegant  and  ornamental  furniture 
for  the  tea-table  of  a  prjncess.  Others  so 
remarkably  cheap,  that  they  are  ranged  on 
the  shelves,  and  minister  at  the  meals  of 
the  poorest  peasant.  All  so  perfectly  neat, 
that  no  liquid  takes  the  least  taint,  nor  the 
nicest  palate  any  disgust,  from  their  cleanly 
services. 

A  multiplicity  of  other  valuable  stores 
are  locked  up  by  Providence,  in  those  am- 
ple vaults.  The  key  of  all  is  committed 
to  the  management  of  industry  ;  with  free 
permission  to  produce  each  particular  spe- 
cies, as  necessity  shall  demand,  or  prudence 
direct. 

Which  shall  we  most  admire — the  boun- 
tiful heart,  the  liberal  hand,  or  the  all-dis- 
cerning  eye  of  our  great  Creator?  How 
observable  and  admirable  is  his  precaution, 
in  removing  these  useful  but  cumbrous 
wares  from  the  superficies  ;  and  stowing 
them  in  proper  repositories,  beneath  the 
ground  ?  Were  they  scattered  over  the 
surface  of  the  soil,  the  earth  would  be  em- 
barrassed with  the  enormous  load ;  our 
roads  would  be  blocked  up,  and  scarce  any 
portion  left  free  for  the  operations  of  hus- 
bandry. Were  they  buried  extremely  deep, 
or  sunk  to  the  centre  of  the  globe,  it  would 
cost  us  immense  pains  to  procure  them  ; 
or  rather  they  would  be  quite  inaccessible. 
Were  they  uniformly  spread  into  a  pave- 
ment for  nature,  the  trees  coidd  not  strike 
their  roots,  nor  the  herbs  shoot  their  blades, 
but  universal  sterility  must  ensue.  Where- 
as, by  their  present  disposition,  they  furnish 
us  with  a  magazine  of  metallic,  without 
causing  any  diminution  of  our  vegetable, 
treasures.  Fossils  of  every  sjjlendid  and 
serviceable  kind  enrich  the  bowels,  while 
bloom  and  verdure  embellish  the  face  of 
the  earth. 

So  judicious  is  the  arrangement  of  this 
grand  edifice  ;  so  beneficent  the  destination 
of  its  whole  furniture  !"  in  which  all  is  re- 
gulated mth  consummate  skill,  and  touch- 
ed into  the  highest  perfection  !      All   most 


•  No  notice  is  taken  of  the  ocean,  in  this  little  rent- 
roll  of  nature's  wealth ;  because  a  distinct  sketch  is 
{;iven  of  that  sjrand  recejitacle,  and  its  principal  ser- 
vices, in  Letter  IX, 


LETTER  VII. 


339 


exactly  adapted  to  the  various  intentions  of 
Providence,  and  the  manifold  exip;encios  of 
mankind ;  to  supply  every  want  we  can 
feel,  and  gratify  every  wish  we  can  form. 

Insomuch  that  the  whole  system  affords 
a  favourite  and  exalted  topic  of  praise, 
even  to  those  distinguished  beings  who 
"  stand  on  the  sea  of  glass,  and  have  [the 
harps  of  God  in  their  hands."  They  lift 
up  their  voice  and  sing,  "  Great  and  mai- 
vellous  are  thy  works,  O  Lord  God  Al- 
mighty,"* Rev-  XV.  .3.  And  is  there  not 
reason,  my  Aspasio  would  say,  infinite  rea- 
son for  us  to  join  this  triumphant  choir,  and 
add  gratitude  to  our  wonder,  love  to  our 
hallelujahs  ;  since  all  these  things  are  to  us, 
not  merely  objects  of  contemplation,  but 
sources  of  accommodation;  not  only  a  ma- 
jestic spectacle,  bright  with  the  display  of 
our  Creator's  M'isdom,  but  an  inestimable 
gift,  rich'with  the  emanations  of  his  good- 
ness ?  The  earth  hath  he  set  before  the  in- 
habitants of  glory,  "  but  the  earth  .hath  he 
given  to  the  children  of  men,"  I'sal.  cxv. 
16.  Having  given  us  ourselves,  given  us  a 
world ;  has  he  not  a  right,  most  un- 
questionable and  unrivalled  right,  to  make 
that  tender  demand,  "  My  son,  give  me  thy 
heart  ?   Prov.  xxiii.  26. 

Shall  I  add  another  passage,  which,  view- 
ed with  any  but  the  last  paragraph,  will  be 
like  the  head  of  gold,  eminent  and  conspi- 
cuous, on  feet  of  iron  and  clay  ?  It  is  taken 
from  the  finest  philosophicfil  oration  that 
ever  was  made.  I  never  read  it  but  with  a 
glow  of  delight,  and  with  impressions  of 
awe.  It  is,  in  shorty  inimitably  spirited  and 
sublime.  You  think,  perhaps,  I  act  an  im- 
politic part  in  being  so  lavish  of  my  praise  ; 
and  that  the  quotation  must  suffer  by  such 
an  aggrandizing  introduction.  But  I  am 
under  no  apprehensions  of  this  kind  :  For- 
bear to  be  delighted,  if  you  can  ;  cease  to 
admire,  if  you  can  ;  when  you  hear  Omni- 
science itself  declaring,  that  on  the  sight  of 
this  universal  fabric  emerging  out  of  no- 
thing, "  the  moniing  stars  sang  together, 
and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy," 
•Tob  xxxviii.  7.  The  system  was  so  grace- 
ful, so  magnificent,  and  in  all  respects  so  ex- 
quisitely finished,  that  the  most  exalted  in- 
telligences were  charmed,  were  transported. 
'I'hey  knew  not  how  to  express  themselves 
on  the  great  occasion,  but  in  shouts  of  ex- 
ultiition  and  songs  of  praise.      Is  it  possible 


»  "  Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works,  O  Lord 
God  Almighty  !  just  and  true  are  thy  ways,  thou  King 
of  saints  !" — The  first  part  seems  to  mean,  what  the 
inspired  writer  calls.  The  song  of  Moses.  The  second 
conUvins  what  lie  styles.  The  song  of  the  Lamb.  The 
first,  1  should  imagine,  relates  to  the  stuiicndous  works 
of  creation.  The  second  alludes  to  the  far  more  won- 
derful scheme  of  redemption.  The  former,  describ- 
ing the  system  of  nature,  is  recorded  by  Moses  ;  the 
latter,  comprehendinfj  the  salvation  of  tho  saints,  is 
accomplished  by  Christ. 


for  imagination  to  conceive  an  encomium  so 

just,    so  high,  60  beautifully  noble  ? I  am 

sin-e,  after  so  much  delicacy  and  majesty  of 
sentiment,  any  thing  of  mine  nuist  be  into- 
lerably flat ;  unless  you  will  excejit  this  one 
profession,  that  I  am,  with  the  most  cor- 
dial sincerity,  my  dear  Aspasio,  inviolably 
yours,  Theron. 


LETTER  VIL 

Aspasio  to  Theron. 

My  Dear  Theron, — If  you  write  with 
such  a  new,  and  from  such  a  motive,  as  are 
mentioned  in  your  last,  e.xpect  no  more  free- 
will offerings  from  my  pen.  In  this  one  in- 
stance I  shall  think  it  my  duty  to  be  covet- 
ous. I  shall  act  the  miser  out  of  principle  ; 
and  hardly  persuade  myself  to  part  with  a 
single  line,  till  it  is  become  an  imdeniable 
debt.  I  must  tuni  your  own  artifice  on 
yourself,  and  lay  you  under  a  necessity  of 
obliging,  entertaining,  and  edifying  me  by 
your  correspondence. 

For,  give  me  leave  to  assure  you,  tliat  I 
am  always  delighted,  and  always  improved 
by  your  epistles.  They  show  me  a  multi- 
tude of  beauties  in  the  creation  which  I 
should  not  otherwise  have  discerned.  They 
point  out  the  infinite  power,  the  unsearcha- 
ble wisdom,  and  the  charmingly  rich  good- 
ness of  the  glorious  Maker.  Such  a  philo- 
sophy turns  all  nature  into  a  school  of  in- 
struction, and  is  an  excellent  handmaid  to 
true  religion.  It  makes  every  object  a  step, 
better  than  a  golden  step,  to  raise  both  our 
knowledge  and  our  affections  to  the  adora- 
ble and  immortal  Cause  of  all. 

AVhile  I  am  roving  heedlessly  along,  your 
remarks  often  interpose,  like  some  intelli- 
gent faithful  monitor  who  claps  his  hand 
uj)on  my  breast,  and  says.  Stand  still,  and 
corisider  the  wondrous  works  of  God,"  Job 
xxxvii.  14.  Willingly  I  obey  the  admoni- 
tion :  the  Christian  may,  with  pecidiar  com- 
placency, consider  this  grand  magazine  of 
wonders,  this  copious  store-house  of  bless- 
ings, and,  conscious  of  an  interest  in  Jesus, 
has  a  right  to  call  them  all  "  his  own," 
1  Cor.  iii.  2.  He  may  'ook  round  upon 
jjresent  things,  look  forward  unto  future 
things,  and,  trusting  in  his  Saviour's  merit, 
may  confidently  say — "  Not  one  only,  but 
both  these  worlds  are  mine.  I3y  virtue  of 
my  Redeemer's  righteousness,  1  j)ossess  the 
necessary  accommodations  of  this  life  ;  and, 
on  the  same  unshaken  footing,  I  stand  en- 
titled to  the  inconceivable  felicity  of  a 
better." 

Surely  then,  it  will  be  as  pleasing  an  em- 
ploy, and  as  important  a  search,  to  examine 
the  validity  of  our  title  to  future  tilings,  as 


360 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


to  estimate  the  value  of  our  present  posses- 
sions -.  You  have  executed  the  one,  let  me 
attempt  ♦he  other  :  You  have  surveyed  ma- 
terial nature.  It  appears  to  be  a  fair  and 
stately  mansion,  void  of  all  defect ;  and,  for 
the'purposes  which  it  is  intended  to  answer, 
completely  finished.  Is  not  our  Saviour's 
obedience,  the  provision  made  for  indigent 
and  guilty  souls,  equally  rich,  and  equally 
perfect?  Since  this  is  everlasting  and  im- 
mutable ;  since  the  other  is  transient  and 
perishable  ;  doubtless  we  'may  argue  with 
the  judicious  apostle  ;  If  "  that  which  is  to 
be  done  away,"  which  will  soon  be  consign- 
ed over  to  dissolution,  "  is  glorious  ;  much 
more  that  which  remaineth,"  whose  blessed 
effects  continue  to  eterna'  ages,  "  is  glor- 
ious," 2  Cor.  iii.  11. 

We  are  every  one  "  as  an  unclean  thing," 
Isa.  Ixiv.  6.  Our  very  nature  is  contamin- 
ated. Even  sanctification,  though  it  de- 
stroys the  reigning,  does  not  wholly  super- 
sede the  polluting  power  of  iniquity  ;  so 
that,  whatever  graces  we  exercise,  whatever 
duties  we  perform  (like  the  rays  of  light 
transmitted  through  coloured  glass,  or  like 
generous  wine  streamingfrom  a  defiled  cask,) 
they  receive  some  improper  tinge,  or  con- 
tract some  debasing  taint.  But  Christ  was 
entirely  free  from  this  innate  contagion.  He 
had  no  erroneous  apprehensions  in  his  mind, 
no  corrupt  bias  upon  his  will,  nor  any  irre- 
gular concupiscence  in  his  affections. 

Being  thus  perfectly  undefiled,  "  he  did 
no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his  mouth," 
I  Pet.  ii.  22.  All  his  thoughts  were  inno- 
cent, all  his  words  were  irreproachable,  and 
every  action  blameless.  The  most  accom- 
plished among  the  children  of  men,  when 
surprised  in  some  unguarded  moment,  or 
assaulted  on  some  weak  side,  have  been  be- 
trayed into  error,  or  hurried  into  sin.  Even 
Moses  spake  unadvisedly  with  his  lips,  and 
Aaron,  the  saint  of  the  Lord,  warped  to 
idolatrous  practices.  They  were  like  some 
stagnating  lake,  in  which,  the  dregs  being 
subsided,  the  waters  appear  clean  ;  but 
when  stirred  by  temptation,  or  agitated  by 
affliction,  the  sediment  rises,  and  the  pool 
is  discoloured.  Whereas  Christ  may  be 
compared  to  a  fountain  that  is  all  transpar- 
ency, and  pure  to  the  very  bottom  ;  which, 
however  shaken,  however  disturbed,  is  no- 
thing but  fluid  crystal,  permanently  and  in- 
variably clear. 

It  was  a  small  thing  for  the  blessed  Jesus 
to  have  no  depraved  propensity :  he  was 
born  in  a  state  of  consummate  rectitude, 
and  adorned  with  all  the  beauties  of  holi- 
ness. "  Holiness  to  the  Lord"  was  inscrib- 
ed, not  on  the  mitre,  but  on  the  heart  of 
our  great  High- Priest :  Therefore  he  is 
styled,  by  the  angelic  harbinger  of  his  birth, 
<'  That  Holy  Thing,"  Luke  i.  33.*     In  the 

«  Which  is  spoken  in  contradistinction  to  the  state 


prophecy  of  Zechariah,  the  dignity  of  our 
Redeemer's  nature,  and  the  perfection  of 
his  obedience,  are  displayed  by  the  simili- 
tude of  a  stone,*  adorned  with  exquisite 
engraving,  wrought  not  by  Bezaleel  or  Aho- 
liab,  though  divinely  inspired  artists,  but  by 
the  finger  of  Jehovah  himself;  and  more 
highly  finished  than  it  is  possible  for  human 
skill  to  equal,  or  human  thought  to  con- 
ceive. 

The  whole  tenor  of  our  Lord's  conduct 
was  a  living  exemplification  of  piety  and 
morality,  in  their  most  extensive  branches 
and  most  amiable  forms.  Saints  of  the 
highest  attainments  have  fallen  short  of  the 
gloiy  of  God ;  have  been  far  from  reaching 
the  exalted  standard  of  his  precepts  :  But 
Christ  failed  in  no  point,  came  short  in  no 
degree.  We  formerly  observed  the  great 
sublimity  and  vast  extent  of  the  divine  law  ; 
from  whence  appears  the  extreme  difficulty, 
nay  the  utter  impossibility  of  our  justifica- 
tion on  account  of  any  duties  performed  by 
ourselves.  How  should  we  rejoice  then  to 
contemplate  the  vicarious  righteousness  of 
our  condescending  and  adorable  Surety ! 
As  the  mercy-seat  was  exactly  commensur- 
ate to  the  dimensions  of  the  ark,  so  did  our 
Lord's  obedience  most  fully  quadrate  with 
all  and  'every  demand  of  the  divine  law. 
It  flowed  from  those  best  of  principles — su- 
preme love  to  God,  and  unfeigned  afl!ection 
to  mankind. 

From  these  two  capital  sources,  let  us 
trace  our  Lord's  obedience  through  some 
little  part  of  its  illustrious  progress.  His 
delight  in  God  was  conspicuous,  even  from 
his  early  years.  The  sacred  solemnities  of 
the  sanctuary  were  more  engaging  to  his 
youthful  mind,  than  all  the  entertainments 
of  a  festival.  When  he  entered  upon  his 
ministry,  whole  nights  were  not  too  long 
for  his  copious  devotions.  The  lonely  re- 
tirements of  the  desert,  as  affording  oppor- 
tunity for  undisturbed  communion  with 
God,  were  more  desirable  to  Christ  than 
the  applauses  of  an  admiring  world. 

So  ceaseless  and  transcendent  was  his 
love  to  God,  that  he  never  sought  any  se- 
parate pleasure  of  his  own,  but  always  did 
those  things  which  were  pleasing  in  his  Fa- 
ther's sight.  His  own  will  was  entirely  ab- 
sorbed in  the  will  of  the  Most  High,  and  "  it 
was  his  meat  and  drink,"  refreshing  and  de- 
lightful as  the  richest  food,  or  as  royal  dain- 


of  all  other  births,  and  implies  the  universal  preTa- 
lencc  of  original  corruption,  this  one  instance  only 
excepted.  For,  if  other  infants  were  holy  at  their 
first  formation,  and  made  after  the  image  of  God, 
this  remark  had  been  trivial  and  impertinent,  if  not 
droll  and  burlesque  ;  like  saying  with  great  solemni- 
ty "  The  child  shall  have  a  mouth  and  a  head  ;  aye, 
and  eves  in  the  one,  and  lips  to  the  other." 

»  Zech.  iii.  9.  Behold  the  stone  that  I  have  laid 
before  Joshua;  upon  one  stone  shall  be  seven  eyes  : 
behold,  1  will  engrave  the  graving  thereof,  saith  the 
Lord  of  Hosts,  and  1  will  remove  the  iniquity  of  that 
land  in  one  day. 


LETTER  VII. 


361 


ties,  "  to  finish  the  work  that  was  given  him 
to  do."     John  iv.  34. 

So  entirely  devoted  to  the  honour  of  God, 
that  a  zeal  for  his  house,  and  for  the  purity 
of  his  ordinances,  is  represented  by  the 
evangelical  historian,  as  "  eatinj^  him  up." 
John  ii.  17.  Like  a  heavenly  flame  glow- 
ing in  his  breast,  it  sometimes  fired  him 
with  a  graceful  indignation,  sometimes  melt- 
ed him  into  godly  sorrow,  and,  by  exerting 
itself  in  a  variety  of  vigorous  efforts,  con- 
sumed his  vital  spirits; 

So  active  and  unremitted  was  the  obe- 
dience of  the  blessed  Jesus,  that  the  sun 
did  not  enter  upon  his  race  with  a  more 
constant  assiduity,  nor  despatch  his  business 
with  greater  expedition  ;  and  sure  I  am, 
that  radiant  luminary  never  dispensed  beams 
half  so  bright,  or  a  thousandth  part  so  bene- 
ficial. Short  was  his  span,  but  how  grand 
and  extensive  were  his  services  !  So  grand, 
that  they  bring  more  glory  to  God  than  all 
the  administrations  of  Providence,  and  all 
the  phenomena  of  nature.  So  extensive, 
that  they  spread,  in  their  gracious  efficacy, 
to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  to  the  closing 
period  of  time.  Nay,  they  will  diffuse  their 
blessed  influence  even  to  the  celestial  world, 
and  have  no  other  limits  of  their  duration 
than  the  a^es  of  eternity. 

Most  affectionately  concerned  for  the 
welfare  of  mankind,  he  spent  his  strength, 
not  barely  in  relieving  them  when  his  aid 
was  implored,  but  in  seeking  the  afflicted, 
and  offering  his  assistance.  With  great 
fatigue,  John  iv.  6,  he  trarelled  to  remote 
cities  ;  and  with  no  less  condescension  he 
visited  the  meanest  villages, — that  all  might 
have  the  benefit  and  comfort  of  his  presence. 
Though  multitudes  of  miserable  objects 
were  brought  to  him  from  every  quarter, 
yet  he  was  pleased  even  to  prevent  the 
wishes  of  the  distressed,  and  "  went  about 
doing  good." 

He  gave  sight,  and  all  the  agreeable  scenes 
of  nature,  to  the  blind  ;  health,  and  all  the 
choice  comforts  of  life,  to  the  diseased.  He 
expelled  malevolent  raging  demons,  and 
restored,  what  is  more  precious  than  the 
light  of  the  body,  or  the  vigour  of  the  con- 
stitution, the  calm  possession  of  the  intellec- 
tual faculties.  What  greatly  surpassed  all 
the  preceding  blessings,  he  released  the 
wretched  soul  from  the  dominion  of  dark- 
ness and  from  the  tyranny  of  sin.  He  made 
his  followers  partakers  of  a  divine  nature, 
and  prepared  them  for  a  state  of  never-end- 
ing bliss. 

Such  priceless  treasures  of  wisdom  and 
beneficence  flowed  from  his  tongue,  and 
were  poured  from  his  hands  !  How  different 
these  triumphs  of  mercy,  from  the  trophies 
erected  by  wild  ambition  in  the  bloody  field! 
If  heathens  celebrated  those  mighty  butchers 
who  made  cities  their  slaughter-house,  made 


half  the  globe  their  shambles,  and  measured 
their  merit  by  the  devastations  they  spread, 
how  should  Christians  admire  this  heavenly 
Benefactor,  who  rose  upon  a  wretched 
woi-ld  "  with  healing  under  his  wings  !"  who 
distributed  far  and  near  the  unspeakably 
rich  gifts  of  knowledge  and  holiness,  of 
temporal  happiness  and  eternal  joy  ! 

Nor  were  these  righteous  acts  his  strange 
work,  but  his  repeated,  his  hourly,  his  al- 
most incessant  employ.  Sometimes  we  hear 
him  preaching  in  the  temple,  or  publishing 
his  glad  tidings  in  the  synagogues.  Some- 
times we  see  him  teaching  in  private  houses, 
or  bringing  forth  the  good  things  of  his  gos- 
pel on  the  deck  of  a  ship.  At  other  times 
he  takes  a  mountain  for  his  pulpit ;  the  hea. 
yens  are  his  sounding-board  ;  and  "  all  that 
have  ears  to  hear"  are  invited  to  be  his 
audience.  Does  he  lay  aside  this  solemn 
office,  it  is  only  to  carry  on  the  same  design 
in  a  more  condescending  and  familiar  man- 
ner.— If  he  meets  with  the  Pharisees,  he 
discovers  their  errors  and  reproves  theii* 
vices  ;  he  confutes  their  objections,  and  (in 
case  they  are  not  absolutely  inaccessible  to 
wise  counsel)  rectifies  their  mistakes.  If  he 
vouchsafes  to  be  present  at  a  feast,  he 
furnishes  the  richest,  incomparably  the 
richest  part  of  the  treat.  ~  "  Honey  and 
milk  are  under  his  tongue,"  Cant-  iv.  11. 
He  inculcates  lowliness  of  mind  on  the  vain, 
Luke  xiv.  8.  he  recommends  disinterested 
charity  to  the  selfish,  Luke  xiv.  12  ;  and  pro- 
mises pardon  to  the  weeping  penitent,  Luke 
vii.  48.  Is  he  retired  from  other  company, 
and  surrounded  only  by  his  chosen  attend- 
ants? His  conversation  is  a  sermon. 
Whether  he  sit  in  the  inner-chamber,  or 
travel  on  the  public  road,  or  walk  through 
the  corn-fields,  he  is  still  prosecuting  his 
great  work,  training  up  his  disciples  for  their 
sacred  function,  and  imparting  to  them  what 
they  may  communicate  to  others.  Is  he  re- 
tired from  all  company  ?  Even  then  he  does 
not  discontinue  his  labours  of  love,  but  adds 
the  fervent  intercessions  of  the  night  to  the 
charitable  toils  of  the  day.  Yes  ;  when  all 
but  himself  lay  sunk  in  soft  repose,  this  Ad- 
vocate for  a  guilty  world  was  engaged  in  an 
exercise  of  benevolence,  which,  though  se- 
cret and  unobserved  as  the  falling  dews, 
was  far  more  beneficial  to  our  best  interests, 
than  those  pearly  drops  to  the  languishing 
herbs. 

Most  charming  and  unparalleled  benigni- 
ty !  He  forgot  his  daily  food,  neglected  his 
necessary  rest,  to  sj)end  and  be  spent  for 
the  salvation  of  mankind.  Neither  the 
hardships  of  continued  self-denial,  nor  the 
calumnies  of  envenomed  tongues,  could  di- 
vert him  from  j)ursuing  this  favourite  busi- 
ness. He  sought  none  of  your  hor)ours, 
^coveted  none  of  your  rewards,  O  ye  children 
of  men  I   What  lie  sought,  what  he  coveted 


363 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


wns  to  wear  out  his  life  in  your  service,  and 
hy  it  down  for  your  ransom.  This  was  all 
his  desire,  and  this,  indeed,  he  desired 
earnestly.  He  longed  (beneficent,  blessed 
Being  !)  he  longed,  for  the  fatal  hour.  He 
severely  rebuked  one  of  his  disciples  who 
would  have  dissuaded  him  from  going  as  a 
volunteer  to  the  cross.  He  was  even  strait- 
ened,* under  a  kind  of  holy  uneasiness,  till 
the  dreadful  work  was  accomplished  ;  till  he 
was  baptized  with  the  baptism  of  his  suf- 
ferings, bathed  in  blood  and  plunged  in 
death. 

By  this  most  meritorious  obedience  and 
death,  what  did  he  not  deserve?  what  did 
he  not  procure  ?  He  procured  those  inesti- 
mable blessings,  the  pardon  of  sin  and  re- 
conciliation with  God;  procured  them  (O 
love  unmerited  and  unmeasurable  !)  for 
prodigals,  for  traitors,  for  rebels  !  To 
this  it  is  owing  that  we,  who  were  ene- 
mies against  God,  may  call  the  king  of 
heaven  our  father,  may  have  free  access 
to  him  in  all  our  difficulties ;  and  may 
hope  to  reign  with  him  in  everlasting  glory. 

Was  ever  goodness  like  this  goodness  ?f 
were  ever  blessings  comparable  to  these 
blessings,  or  purchased  with  such  a  price  ? 
Hide,  hide  your  diminished  heads,  ye  little 
transitory  donations  of  silver  and  gold.  The 
riches  of  a  thousand  mines,  bestowed  to  feed 
the  hungiy  and  clothe  the  naked,  are  the 
most  contemptible  trilles,  if  mentioned  with 
the  charity  of  the  teaching,  the  healing,  the 
bleeding  Jesus  !  Kingdoms  given  away  in 
aims,  if  viewed  with  this  infinitely  noble 
beneficence,  would  make  just  the  same  figure 
.  a  spark  from  the  summer  hearth,  under 
the  potent  and  boundless  blaze  of  noon. 
This  is  indeed  "  love  that  passeth  know- 
ledge."J  Eph.  iii.  19. 


«  Luke  xii.  SO.  The  original  word  iruvix"/^"'' 
seems  to  express  the  condition  of  a  person  wedged  in 
on  every  side  by  a  tumultuous  throng  of  people. 

f  Codrus,  itls  true,  devoted  himself  to  death/or  the 
Athenians ;  and  Curtius  threw  himself  into  the  yawn- 
ing gulph  for  the  preservation  of  the  Romans.  But 
these  died  being  mere  creatures,  and  guilty  creatures  ; 
whereas,  the  dying  Jesus  was  perfectly  innocent,  and 
supremely  glorious.  These  died  only  a  little  before 
their  time:  but  Christ  died,  though  he  had  life  in 
himself,  and  none  could  have  taken  it  from  him,  had 
he  not  voluntarily  resigned  it.  These  died  for  their 
■valuable  friends,  for  their  affectionate  relations,  for 
their  native  country ;  but  Christ  died  for  slaves,  for 
enemies,  for  the  ungodly.  They  died  an  honourable 
death,  but  Christ  submitted  to  the  most  ignominious 
execution ;  Christ  died  under  the  imputation  of  hor- 
rid crimes,  and  in  the  form  of  an  execrable  malefac- 
tor. In  all  these  instances,  as  the  heavens  are  higher 
than  the  earth,  so  is  Christ's  love  greater  than  their 
Jove,  his  philanthropy  than  their  patriotism. 

t  This  expression,  as  also  the  principal  circum- 
stance of  superiority  hinted  in  the  preceding  note, 
are  founded  on  the  divinity  of  our  Lord ;  and  indeed 
the  expression  is  scarce  justifiable,  the  assertion  is 
hardly  true,  upon  any  other  supposition.  A  creature 
dying  for  a  creature,  is,  though  great,  yet  notjincom- 
prehensible  goodness.  But,  when  we  view  the  suffer- 
ings of  Christ,  and  the  blessings  of  redemption,  sur- 
rounded with  all  the  splendour  of  the  Deity,  they 
dazzle  our  understanding,  and  fill  us  with  holy  aston- 
ishment. They  appear  to  be  the  effects  of  a  love  ne- 
ver to  bespoke  of  but  in  the  language  of  wonder,  i»e- 
ver  to  be  thought  of  but  with  an  ecstacy  of  delight. 


Amidst  all  these  miracles  of  power  and 
of  love,  (any  one  of  which  would  have  en- 
titled him  to  universal  admiration  and  ever- 
lasting honoiu"),  how  humble  was  our  Savi- 
our !  O  humility — virtue  dear  to  the  most 
high  God,  and  peculiarly  amiable  in  men— 
never  didst  thou  appear  in  so  charming  a 
dress,  or  so  striking  a  light ! 

At  his  birth,  not  accommodated  vdth  a 
magnificent  palace,  but  lodged  in  a  stable, 
and  laid  in  a  manger.  As  he  advanced  in 
years,  not  attended  with  a  royal  equipage, 
or  supplied  from  a  royal  revenue,  but  labour- 
ing with  his  own  hands,  and  earning  his 
bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  When  he 
entered  upon  his  ministerial  ofiSce,  not  the 
least  ostentatious  parade  appeared  in  the 
performance  of  all  his  wonderful  works.  So 
far,  so  very  far  from  affecting  the  acclama- 
tions of  the  popidace,  that  he  often  imposed 
silence  on  those  imspeakably  indebted  lips 
which  were  ready  to  overflow  with  praise, 
^and  would  fain  have  been  the  trumpets  of 
his  fame. 

Though  a  voice  from  heaven  proclaimed 
him  the  Beloved  of  his  Almighty  Father,  he 
disdained  not  to  own  the  ignoble  character 
of  the  carpenter's  son.  Matth.  xiii.  55. 
Though  Prince  of  the  kings  of  the  earth, 
he  condescended  to  wash  the  feet  of  mean 
fishermen  and  vile  siimers.  John  xiii.  14. 
Though  proprietor  and  lord  of  the  whole 
world,  he  was  content  to  be  more  destitute 
than  the  fowls  of  the  air,  or  the  foxes  of 
the  desert ;  Matth.  viii.  20  ;  more  destitute 
(astonishing  abasement !)  than  the  most  in- 
significant and  most  hated  animals. 

Grandeur,  we  find,  is  apt  to  beget  expec- 
tations of  superior  regard ;  consequently 
gives  a  keener  edge  to  every  affront,  and 
renders  the  mind  more  tenderly  sensible  of 
every  disres])ect.  But  our  Lord's  meekness 
was  as  great  as  his  dignity;  and  that  through- 
out a  series  of  such  unsufferable  provoca- 
tions, as  were  equalled  by  nothing  but  the 
sweetness  of  his  forgiving  grace. 

When  rudely  affronted,  he  calmly  bore, 
and  kindly  overlooked  the  insult.  When 
contradicted  by  petulant  and  presumptuous 
sinners,  he  endured,  mth  the  utmost  sereni- 
ty of  temper,  their  imreasonable  cavils  and 
their  obstinate  perverseness.  When  his 
invitations,  his  most  endearing  invitations, 
were  ungratefully  and  stubbornly  rejected, 
instead  of  remitting,  he  renewed  them  ;  and, 
with  still  warmer  affection,  importuned  his 
hearers  not  to  forsake  their  \ovm  mercies, 
not  to  forego  their  own  felicity.  When  all 
the  winning  arts  of  persuasion  were  inef- 
fectual, he  added  his  tears  to  his  slighted 
entreaties,  and  lamented  as  a  brother  when 
scornfully  repulsed  as  a  teacher. 

Though  his  disciples  slept,  stupidly  slept, 
when  his  bitter  cries  pierced  the  clouds,  and 
were  enough  to  awaken  the  very  stones  inlo 


LETTER   VIL 


36a 


coropassion,  did  their  divine  but  6li>;hted 
Master  resent  the  uiikindness  ?  Did  he 
refuse  to  admit  an  excuse  for  their  neglect  ? 
yea,  he  made  their  excuse,  and  that  the  most 
tender  and  gracious  imaginable  :  "  The 
spirit  is  willing  but  the  tiesh  is  weak." 
Matth.  xxvi.  41.  When  his  enemies  had 
nailed  him  to  the  cross,  as  the  basest  slave 
and  most  flagitious  malefactor;  when  they 
were  glutting  their  malice  with  his  torments 
and  blood,  and  spared  not  to  revile  him  even 
in  his  last  expiring  agonies  ;  far,  very  far 
from  being  exasperated,  this  Hero  of  heaven 
repaid  all  their  contempt  and  barbarity  with 
the  most  fervent  and  effectual  supplications 
in  their  behalf:  "  Father,  forgive  them," 
was  his  prayer  ;  "  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do,"  was  his  plea.    Luke  xxiii.  Si. 

Nor  was  his  resignation  less  exemplary 
than  his  meekness.  He  went  out  to  meet 
aiUictions,  when  they  came  in  his  Father's 
name,  and  commissioned  from  his  Father's 
hand.  He  gave,  without  the  least  reluct- 
ance, his  back  to  the  smiters,  "  and  hid  not 
his  face  from  shame  and  spitting."  Though 
his  soul,  his  very  soul,  was  penetrated  with 
the  keenest  sensations  of  anguish,  yet  no 
impatient  thought  discomposed  his  mind, 
no  murmuring  word  forced  its  way  from  his 
lips.  "  Father,  not  my  will,  but  thine  be 
done,"  Luke  xxii.  42,  was  his  language, 
when  the  sorrows  of  death  compassed  him, 
and  pains  inexpressibly  severer  than  the 
pains  of  dissolution,  came  upon  him. 
"  When  they  gaped  upon  him  with  their 
mouth,  and  smote  him  upon  the  cheek  re- 
proachfully :  When  his  face  was  foul  with 
spitting,  and  on  his  eyelids  was  the  shadow 
of  death  :  When  God  delivered  him  to  the 
ungodly,  and  turned  him  over  into  the  hands 
of  the  wicked :  Yea,  when  the  Almighty 
set  him  for  the  mark  of  his  arrows,  and 
brake  him  with  breach  upon  breach  :  When 
the  weapons  of  his  wrath  cleft  his  very  reins 
asunder,  and  poured  his  gall  upon  tlie 
earth  :"• — Amidst  all  this  exquisite  dis- 
tress, he  sinned  not  by  the  least  irregidar 
perturbation  ;  but  bowed  his  head,  and  du- 
tifully kissed  the  divine  rod,  and  cordially 
blessed  his  very  murderers. 

Thus  (lid  the  whale  choir  of  active  and 
passive  virtues  abound  and  shine  in  our 
Lord ;  abound  with  the  richest  variety,  and 
shine  with  the  highest  lustre,  infinitely  sur- 
passing that  curious  assemblage  of  costly 
gems  which  studded  the  Aaronic  breast- 
plate, Exod.  xxviii.  17 — 20.  and,  as  far  as 

*  These  traRical  images  are  borrowed  from  the 
book  ot  Job,  who  was  an  cmhiciit  type  of  a  suircriiif; 
Saviour  ;  and  though  they  arc  the  very  cior|Ufiice  of 
Wo,  they  do  not  cxai;ccrate,  they  cannot  express  that 
inconceivable  anguish  wliich  wrung  a  bloody  sweat 
from  our  blessed  ISlastcr's  body,  and  forced  from  his 
lips  that  melancholy  exclamation—"  My  soul  is 
sorrowful— exceeding  sorrowful— sorrowful  e\  en  unto 
dcaih."    SecJobxvi. 


earthly  things  can  represent  heaveidy,  typi- 
fied  the  splendour  and  perfection  of  our  Re- 
deemer's righteousness. 

In  all  this,  he  acted  and  suffered  as  God's 
righteous  servant,  and  as  his  people's  right- 
eous surety.  By  all  this,  he  fulfilled  every 
jot  and  tittle  of  the  divine  law ;  nay,  he 
more  than  fulfilled,  he  magnified  it-  Hegavo 
it  (if  I  may  apply  the  most  beautiful  allusion 
that  ever  was  used,  to  the  most  momentous 
subject  that  ever  was  discussed)  "  good  mea- 
sure pressed  down,  and  shaken  together,  and 
running  over."  Luke  vi.  38. 

He  defied  the  most  vigilant  of  his  ene- 
mies to  convince  him  of  sin.  A  more  ma- 
lignant, a  far  more  sagacious  adversary  than 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  could  detect  no 
blemish  in  our  Lord  Jesus.  "  The  prince 
of  this  world,"  that  infernal  tyrant  who  had 
deceived  and  enslaved  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  "  came  and  found  nothing  in  him," 
John  xiv.  30,  not  the  least  corruption  in 
his  nature,  not  the  least  defect  in  his  obe- 
dience. 

"  He  hath  done  all  things  well,"  Maik 
vii.  37.  was  the  general  acclamation  of  all 
mankind  ;  or,  as  the  words  may  be  render- 
ed, "  he  hath  done  all  things  finely  and 
gracefully  (xaXa;,)  with  every  circumstance 
that  can  constitute  the  propriety  and  digni- 
ty, the  utility  and  beauty  of  action. 

"  1  have  glorified  thee  on  earth,"  John 
xvii.  4,  was  his  own  profession  before  the 
most  high  God.  I  have  glorified  thee  in  all 
that  I  acted,  in  all  that  I  uttered,  in  all  that 
I  suffered.  I  have  displayed  the  magnifi- 
cence of  thy  Majesty,  the  riches  of  thy  grace, 
and  the  honour  of  all  thy  attributes.  Inso- 
much, that  "  whoso  seeth  me,  seeth  the  Fa- 
ther," John  xii.  45  :  whoever  is  properly 
acquainted  with  my  person  and  my  work  of 
redemption,  sees  the  invisible,  and  knows  the 
incomprehensible  Deity;  sees  his  venerable, 
his  amiable,  his  adorable  perfections,  in  the 
clearest  mirror,  and  in  the  brightest  light. 

God  also,  who  is  the  supreme  standard, 
and  unerring  judge  of  excellency,  bore  his 
testimony  to  our  blessed  Mediator.  He 
spoke  it  once,  yea  twice,  and  with  a  voice 
from  heaven.  In  the  constitution  of  the  ma- 
terial world,  when  it  came  forth  from  the 
Creator's  hand.  Omniscience  itself  could 
discern  no  flaw.  Neither  could  Justice  itself, 
upon  the  strictest  inquiry,  discover  any  fail- 
ure in  the  obedience  of  our  Surety.  As, 
therefore,  it  was  said  concerning  the  works 
of  creation,  "  They  are  all  very  good,"  Gen. 
i.  31,  so  it  was  said  concerning  our  Saviour, 
and  by  the  same  Almighty  Majesty,  "  In  him 
I  am  well  pleased."     Matth.  iii.  17. 

You  took  notice,  and  very  justly,  how 
much  the  productions  of  nature  exceed  and 
eclijise  the  attempts  of  human  skill.  We 
are  pkased  with  the  performances  of  the 
painter  ;  but  do  they  equal  the  native  blush 


364 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


of  the  rose,  or  the  artless  glow  of  a  pea- 
blossom  ?  We  are  charmed  with  a  fine  piece 
of  enammelling  ;  but  is  it  fit  to  be  compar- 
ed  with  the  natural  polish  of  a  thousand 
shells  which  are  formed  in  the  ocean,  or  a 
thousand  seeds  which  spring  from  the  earth  ? 
We  admire  the  virtues  of  the  ancient  saints, 
men  "  that  were  honoured  in  their  genera- 
tions and  the  glory  of  their  times,  Eccles. 
xlv.  7.  We  admire  the  meekness  of  Moses, 
and  the  magnanimity  of  Elijah  ;  the  exalted 
piety  of  Isaiah,  and  the  enlarged  wisdom  of 
Daniel ;  the  active  spirit  of  Joshua,  and  the 
passive  graces  of  Jeremiah.  But  what  pro- 
portion, put  them  all  together — what  propor- 
tion do  they  all  bear  to  his  obedience,  "who 
is  gone  into  heaven,  angels  and  authorities 
and  powers  being  made  subject  unto  him," 
1  Pet.  iii.  22.  "  who  is  called  the  Holy  One 
and  the  Just,"  AcFs  iii.  14.  not  only  by  way 
of  emphasis,  but  by  way  of  exclusion  ;  be- 
cause no  person  is  worthy  of  the  character, 
no  duties  deserve  to  be  mentioned,  when 
Christ  and  his  merits  are  under  considera- 
tion. 

If  then  we  talk  of  merit,  what  merit  must 
there  be  in  such  immaculate  sanctity  of  soul, 
and  such  exemplary  holiness  of  conduct  ; 
such  ardent  zeal  for  God,  and  such  com- 
passionate good-will  to  men  ;  such  consum- 
mate worthiness  and  extensive  usefulness  ; 
such  as  \vere  utterly  unknown  before,  have 
been  absolutely  unequalled  since,  and  never 
will,  nor  can  be  paralleled  throughout  all 
ages  ! — O  my  Theron !  what  is  the  drop  of 
a  bucket  to  the  unfathomable  waves  of  the 
ocean  ?  What  is  a  grain  of  sand  to  the  un- 
measurable  dimensions  of  the  universe  ? 
What  is  an  hour  or  a  moment  to  the  end- 
less revolutions  of  eternity  ?  Such  are  all 
human  endowments,  and  all  human  attain- 
ments, compared  with  his  righteousness, 
who  is  "  fairer  than  the  children  of  men," 
Psal.  xlv.  2.  "  the  chiefest  among  ten  thou- 
sand, Cant.  V.  10. ;  "  and  who  receiveth 
not  the  Spirit  by  measure,"  John  iii.  34. 

Think  not,  that  what  I  have  written  is 
the  language  of  rant.  It  is  a  paraphrase, 
though,  I  must  confess,  but  a  scanty  para- 
phrase, on  David's  practice  and  David's 
faith.  "  My  mouth  shall  show  forth  thy 
righteousness  and  thy  salvation  all  the  day, 
for  I  know  not  the  numbers  thereof,"  Psal. 
Ixxi.  15.*      The  glorious  righteousness  of 


Christ,  and  the  great  salvation  obtained 
thereby,  he  declares  shall  be  the  chosen, 
the  principal  subject  of  his  discourse.  And 
not  on  a  Sabbath  only,  but  on  every  day  of 
the  week,  of  the  year  of  his  life.  And  not 
barely  at  the  stated  retunis  of  solemn  de- 
votion, but  in  every  social  interview,  and 
"  all  the  day  long."  Why  will  he  thus 
dwell,  perpetually  and  invariably  dwell  on 
this  darling  theme  ?  Because  "  he  knew 
no  end  thereof.  It  is  impossible  to  mea- 
sure the  value,  or  exhaust  the  fulness  of 
these  blessings.  The  righteousness  is  un- 
speakable, the  salvation  is  everlasting.  To 
compute  the  duration  of  the  one,  numbers 
fail ;  to  describe  the  excellency  of  the  other, 
words  are  at  a  loss. 

And  is  this  righteousness  designed  for  us  ? 
Is  this  to  be  our  wedding-dress,  this  our  beau- 
tiful array,  when  we  enter  the  regions  of 
eternity  ?  Unspeakable  privilege  !  Is  this 
what  God  has  provided  to  supply,  more  than 
supply,  our  loss  in  Adam?  Boundless  benig- 
nity !  Shall  we  be  treated  by  the  Judge  of  the 
world  as  if  we  had  performed  all  this  un- 
sinning  and  perfect  obedience  ?  Well  might 
the  prophet  cry  out,  like  one  lost  in  aston- 
ishment "  How  great  is  his  goodness  ?  Is 
not  your  heart  enamoured,  my  dear  Theron, 
with  a  view  of  this  incomprehcHsibly  rich 
grace  ?  What  so  excellent,  what  so  comfort- 
able, what  so  desirable,  as  this  gift  of  a  Sa- 
viour's righteousness !  Though  delineated 
by  this  feeble  pen,  methinks  it  has  dignity 
and  glory  enough  to  captivate  our  hearts, 
and  fire  our  affections  ;  fire  them  with  ar- 
dent and  inextinguishable  desires  after  a 
personal  interest  and  property  in  it.  O  ! 
may  the  eternal  Spirit  reveal  our  Redeemer's 
righteousness,  in  all  its  heavenly  beauty  and 
divine  lustre  !  Then,  I  am  sure,  we  shall 
esteem  it  above  every  thing ;  we  shall  re- 
gard it  as  the  "  one  thing  needful :"  we  shall 
count  all  things,  in  comparison  of  it,  worth- 
less as  chaif  and  empty  as  the  wind. 


•  1  cannot  but  observe,  that  righteousness  and  sal- 
vation are  frequently  connected  by  the  author  of  the 
rsalms,  and  by  the  prophet  Isaiah,  in  order  to  in- 
timate that  the  one  is  founded  on  the  other;  the  latter 
derives  its  origin  from  the  former.  There  can  be  no 
dalvation  without  a  righteousness,  a  real,  proper,  law- 
fulfilling  righteousness.  At  the  same  time,  I  am  sen- 
sible, that  the  word  righteousness  may  signify  God's 
goodness  in  making,  and  faithfulness  in  pertorming 
his  promises  unto  David.  .Salvation  may  likewise 
denote  the  delivery  of  that  afflicted  hero  from  all  his 
persecutors,  and  his  establishment  on  the  throne  of 
Israel. 

But,  if  we  should  coufine  the  sense  to  these  narrow 


limits,  how  comfortless  the  favour  even  to  David 
himself,  considered  asan  immortal  being !  How  much 
more  insignificant  to  us  and  others,  on  whom  the 
ends  of  the  world  are  come  !  And  how  very  unworthy 
of  that  infinite  God,  who  is  the  Father  of  the  spirits 
of  all  flesh;  who  sees  at  one  view  whatever  is  or  has 
been,  or  shall  exist ;  who  therefore,  when  he  speaks, 
speaks  to  all  his  children  in  every  period  of  time,  and 
in  every  nation  under  heaven.  As  much  as  a  tutor, 
when  delivering  his  lectures,  addresses  himself  to  all 
his  pupils,  whether  they  sit  at  his  right  hand  or  his 
left,  before  him  or  on  every  side. 

Whereas,  if  righteousness  signifies  the  meritorioui 
obedience  of  Christ,  and  salvation  implies  the  bene- 
fits of  his  redemption,  the  sense  is  no  longer  shrivel- 
led, impoverished,  and  mean;  but  rich,  august,  and 
magnificent.  It  pours  consolation  among  all  people, 
kindredsand  tongues.  It  is  worthy  of  that  God,  who 
seeth  the  things,  and  regardeth  the  persons,  which 
are  not  as  though  they  were.  It  comports  exactly 
with  that  revelation  in  which  Christ  is  the  Alpha  and 
Omega,  the  beginning  and  the  ending,  the  sum  total. 

This  note  is  already  too  long,  otherwise  I  should 
take  leave  to  gratify  my  inclination,  and  give  a  sanc- 
tion to  my  sentiment,  by  transcribing  VitruJga  s  ex- 
position of  Isa.  xiv.  U. 


LETTER  VIII. 


86S 


To  an  immortal  and  fallen  soul  every 
thing  else  is  empty  as  the  wind  ;  but  here 
siimers  may  "  suck  and  be  satisfied  with  this 
breast  of  consolation  ;"  yea,  thousands  and 
thousands  of  millions  may  "  milk  out,  and 
be  delighted  with  the  abundance  of  its  glo- 
ry." Isa.  Ixvi.  11.  Here  we  shall  find  the 
doctrine  of  supererogation  no  longer  a  chi- 
mera, but  a  delightful  reality.  Here  in- 
deed is  an  immense  surplusage,  an  inexhaus- 
tible fund  of  merit,"  sufficient  to  enrich  a 
whole  world  of  indigent  and  miserable  crea- 
tures ;  sufficient  to  make  their  cup  run  over 
with  a  superabundant  fulness  of  peace  and 
joy,  so  long  as  time  shall  last,  and  when 
time  shall  be  no  more.  For,  to  use  the  apos- 
tle's weighty  argument,  "  If,  by  one  man's 
offence  death  reigned  by  one  ;  much  more 
they  which  receive  abundance  of  grace,  and 
of  the  gift  of  righteousness,  shall  reign  in 
life  by  one,  Jesus  Christ."  Rom.  v.  17.  If, 
one  offence,  committed  by  one  mere  man, 
made  all  his  posterity  chargeable  with  guilt, 
and  liable  to  death  ;  how  much  more  shall 
the  manifold  instances  of  our  divine  Re- 
deemer's obedience  ;  of  his  long,  uninter- 
rupted, consummate  righteousness  ; — how 
much  more  shall  they  absolve  all  his  people 
from  condemnation  and  punishment,  and 
entitle  them  to  the  honours  and  joys  of 
immortality ! 

Which  will  appear  in  a  clearer  light,  if, 
to  the  perfection  of  his  obedience,  we  add 
the  majesty  of  his  person.  A  proper  sub- 
ject this  for  some  future  letter. — In  the 
mean  time,  let  me  desire  my  friend,  the 
friend  of  my  bosom,  to  contemplate  our 
Lord  Jesus  under  that  lovely  and  august 
character,  "  Glorious  in  holiness."  Exod. 
\v.  11.  And,  for  my  part,  I  will  notecase 
to  pray,  that  a  sense  of  this  supereminently 
grand  and  precious  righteousness  may  be 
written  on  my  Theron's  heart.  On  those 
living  tables,  may  it  be  like  figures  cut  on  a 
rock  of  solid  marble,  or  inscribed  on  the  bark 
of  a  growing  tree  ;  be  lasting  in  its  duration 
as  the  former,  and  spreading  in  its  influence 
as  the  latter.  It  will  then  be  a  sure  proof, 
that  his  name  is  written  in  the  book  of  life  ; 
and  it  shall  then  be  a  pleasing  pattern  for 
the  affection,  the  gratitude,  and  the  friend- 
ship of  his  AsPASio. 

P.  S — You  give  a  most  astonishing  ac- 
count of  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere. 
Astonishing,    indeed !    that  we  should  be 


*  Yet  here  is  no  rich  fund,  (as  a  learned  writer  as- 
serts) no  fund  at  all,  for  the  Pope's  treasury  of  meri- 
torious supereroRating  actions  ;  unless  Christ  and  the 
Pope  are  to  be  placed  unon  the  same  footing  ;  unless 
the  inett'ably  excellent  ol)edience  of  a  divine  Redeem- 
er, and  the  miserably  defective  duties  of  sinful  men, 
are  to  be  deemed  emially  valuable.  .Since  this  will 
hardly  be  admitted  by  Protestiuits,  I  l)elieve,  Aspa- 
sio  may  safely  call  the  obedience  of  Christ,  "  the  true 
8upereri>Hation ;"  as  Mr.  Ambrose  has  called  the  blood 
of  Christ,  "  the  true  purgatory." 


continually  surrounded,  continually  over- 
whelmed, with  such  a  tremendous  load,  and 
not  be  crushed  to  death  ;  no,  nor  be  sen- 
sible of  the  least  weight.  This,  I  think, 
may  serve  to  represent  the  state  of  a  sinner 
unavvakened  from  carnal  security.  Loads, 
more  than  mountainous  loads  of  guilt,  are 
upon  his  soul,  and  he  perceives  not  the  bur- 
den. For  this  reason,  he  is  under  no  ap- 
prehensions of  the  vengeance  and  fiery  in- 
dignation which  he  deserves  ;  he  has  no 
superlative  esteem  for  the  atonement  and 
merits  of  the  Redeemer,  which  alone  can 
deliver  him  from  the  wrath  to  come.  But 
if  once  his  conscience  feels,  what  his  lips, 
perhaps,  have  often  repeated,  "  We  do  ear- 
nestly repent  us  of  these  our  misdoings,  the 
remembrance  of  them  is  grievous  unto  us, 
the  burden  of  them  is  inloleral;le  ;  then 
how  will  he  prize  such  a  text,  "  The  Lord 
laid  on  Christ  the  iniquity  of  us  all  !"  How 
will  he  long  for  an  interest  in  the  Lamb  of 
God,  "  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world  !"  Then  that  Jesus  who  has  "  finish  . 
ed  the  transgression,  and  brought  in  everlast- 
ing righteousness,"  will  be  all  his  salvation, 
and  all  his  desire. 


LETTER  VIII. 

AsPASio  TO  Theiiox. 

Dear  Theron, — I  have  just  been  read- 
ing that  exquisitely  fine  piece  of  sacred  his- 
tory, the  life  of  Joseph  :  a  history  filled 
with  surprising  incidents  and  unexpected 
revolutions  ;  adorned  with  the  most  heroic 
instances  of  triumphant  virtue,  both  amidst 
all  the  allurements  of  temptation  and  under 
the  pressures  of  affliction  ;  animated  with 
such  tender  and  pathetic,  such  melting  and 
alarming  touches  of  natural  eloquence,  as 
every  reader  must  feel,  and  every  true  critic 
will  iidmire. 

When  I  came  to  that  remarkable  injunc- 
tion with  which  the  generous  viceroy  dis- 
missed his  brethren,  "  Ye  shall  tell  my 
Father  of  all  my  glory  in  Egypt,"  Gen. 
xlv.  13  J — I  paused — I  pondered— I  was 
struck.  Certainly  this  was  enjoined,  not 
by  way  of  ostentation,  but  on  accoimt  of 
the  pleasure,  which  he  knew  it  would  yield 
the  good  old  patriarch.  Was  it  some  kind 
prompting  angel,  or  the  voice  of  gratitude 
and  devotion,  that  whispered  in  my  ear, 
"  Should  not  the  children  of  men  likewise 
tell  one  another  of  all  the  glory,*  which 


»  To  see  the  glory  of  Christ,  is  the  grand  blessinif 
which  our  Lord  solicits  and  demands  for  his  disciples" 
in  his  last  solemn  intercession,  Johnxvii.24.  Jt  is 
that  which  will  complete  the  blessedness  of  heaven, 
and  fill  Its  inhabitaiit.s  with  joy  uiis)>eakable  and  glo- 
rious. Surely  then  we  should  endeavour  to  antici- 
pate, in  some  dcyrce,  that  celestial  bliss,  and  habitu. 


366 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


their  Redeemer  possesses  in  heaven  and  on 
earth  ?  Will  not  this  afford  them  the  su- 
blimest  pleasure  here,  and  be  a  source  of 
the  most  refined  satisfaction  for  ever  and 
ever  ?" 

Though  I  had  almost  determined  to  write 
no  more,  till  you  could  make  a  demand  upon 
the  foot  of  value  received,  willingly  I  re- 
cede from  my  intended  resolution,  and  obey 
this  pleasing  hint.  But  "who  can  declare 
the  noble  acts  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  or 
show  forth  all  his  praise  ?" — However,  if  I 
may  but  lisp  out  his  adorable  name,  and 
present  my  friend  with  a  glimpse,  or  a 
broken  view  of  his  divine  perfections,  even 
this  will  be  desirable  and  delightful  ;  far 
more  desirable  and  delightful  than  to  be- 
hold Rome  in  its  magnificence,  St.  Paul  in 
the  pulpit,  or  King  Solomon  on  his  throne.* 
I  Let  me  take  the  lark  for  my  pattern ; 
which,  as  I  was  lately  returning  from  an 
evening  ramble,  attracted  my  observation. 
Warbling  her  Creator's  praise,  she  mounted 
in  the  serene  sky.  Still  she  warbled,  and 
still  she  mounted,  as  though  she  meant  to 
carry  her  tribute  of  harmony  unto  the  very 
gates  of  heaven.  Having  reached  at  last 
her  highest  elevation,  and  perceiving  her- 
self at  an  immense  distance  from  the  starry 
mansions,  she  dropped  on  a  sudden  to  the 
earth,  and  discontinued  at  once  both  to  sing 
and  to  soar.  Now  the  morning  appears, 
and  is  awakening  the  world,  our  little  song- 
ster retunes  her  throat,  and  re-exerts  her 
wings.  As  I  have  endeavoured,  very  im- 
perfectly endeavoured,  to  strike  out  a  sha- 
dowy draught  of  our  Lord's  complete  obe- 
dience ;  I  would,  though  unequal  to  the 
task,  once  more  resume  my  pen,  and  attempt 
i^nothing  like  a  display,  but  only  a  faint 
sketch  of  his  essential  dignity. 

First  let  me  observe,  that  for  some  time 
past  we  have  been  visited  with  the  most 
uncomfortable  weather,  dewless  nights  and 
sultry  days.  The  firmament  was  more  like 
a  glowing  furnace  than  the  region  of  refresh- 
ing rain.  The  earth  lay  parched  with  thirst, 
and  chapped  with  heat.  The  meadows 
were  drained  of  their  humidity,  and  all  the 
flowers  hung  their  fading  heads.  The 
streams,  which  used  to  flow  parallel  with 
the  verdant  margin,  abandoned  their  banks, 
and  sunk  diminished  and  discoloured,  to 
the  bottom  of  their  oozy  channels.  Nature 
in  general  seemed  to  be  resigning  the  "  robe 
of  beauty  for  the  garment  of  heaviness." 
Drought  was  in  all  our  borders,  and  famine 
we  feared  was  not  far  behind.  Though 
clouds  of  dust  obscured  the  air,  tarnished 
the  hedges,  and  almost  smothered  the  tra- 


atc  our  souls  to  this  sacred  exercise,  which  will  be 
our  business  ami  our  reward  to  endlesfe  ages. 

*  These,  if  I  remember  riRht,  are  the  tliree  tilings 
which  St.  Augustine  declared,  would,  of  all  others, 
most  eininentlyfiralify  liis  curiosity. 


veller,  yet  not  one  cloud  of  fleecy  white  ap- 
peared, to  variegate  the  blue  expanse,  or 
give  us  hopes  of  a  reviving  shower.* 

It  reminded  me  of  that  awful  threatening, 
denounced  by  Moses  on  a  wicked  people  : 
"  The  heaven,  that  is  over  thy  head,  shall 
be  brass  :  and  the  earth,  that  is  imder  thee, 
shall  be  iron."  Deut.  xxviii.  23.  It  made 
me  apprehensive  of  that  terrible  state  which 
the  prophet  so  emphatically  describes : 
"  The  field  is  wasted,  and  the  land  mourn- 
eth.  The  seed  is  rotten  under  the  clods, 
and  the  harvest  perisheth.  The  garners  are 
laid  desolate,  and  the  barns  are  broken 
down.  The  new  wine  is  dried  up,  the  oil 
languisheth,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  field  are 
withered.  How  do  the  beasts  groan  !  The 
herds  of  cattle  are  perplexed  ;  yea,  the  flocks 
of  sheep  are  made  desolate  :  Because  the  riv- 
ers of  waters  are  dried  up,  and  the  fire  hath 
devoured  the  pastures  of  the  wilderness." 
Joel  i.  10,  &c.  But,  blessed  be  the  divine 
Providence,  our  fears  are  vanished,  and  a 
most  joyful  change  has  taken  place.  The 
Lord  hath  "  sent  a  gracious  rain  upon  his 
inheritance,  and  refreshed  it  when  it  was 
weary."  Psalm  Ixviii-  9. 

Yesterday,  in  the  afternoon,  the  wind, 
shifting  to  the  south,  roused  the  dormant 
clouds,  and  brought  some  of  those  agreea- 
able  strangers  on  its  wings.  At  first  they 
came  sailing  in  small,  and  thin,  and  scatter- 
ed parties.  Anon,  the  flying  squadrons  ad- 
vanced in  larger  detachments,  more  closely 
wedged,  and  more  deeply  laden  ;  till  at  last, 
the  great  rendezvous  completed,  they  form- 
ed into  a  body  of  such  depth,  and  extended 
their  wings  with  such  a  sweep,  as  darkened 
the  sun,  and  overspread  the  whole  hemis- 
phere. 

Just  at  the  close  of  day,  the  gales  which 
escorted  the  spongy  treasures  retired,  and 
consigned  their  charge  to  the  disposal  of  a 
profound  calm.  Not  a  breeze  shook  the 
most  tremulous  leaf :  Not  a  curl  ruftled  the 
smooth  expansive  lake  :  All  things  were 
still,  as  in  attentive  expectation.  The  earth 
seemed  to  gasp  after  the  hovering  moisture. 
Natui'e,  with  her  suppliant  tribes,  in  express- 
ive pleading  silence,  solicited  the  falling 
fruitfulness,  nor  pleaded  long,  nor  solicited 
in  vain. 

The  showers,  gentle,  soft  and  balmy,  de- 
scend. The  vessels  of  heaven  unload  their 
precious  freight,  and  enrich  the  penurious 
glebe-  Through  all  the  night,  the  liquid 
sweetness,  incomparably  more  beneficial  than 
trickling  silver,  distils  ;  shedding  herbs,  and 

*  At  such  a  juncture,  how  pertinent  is  the  question 
proposed  by  the  Almighty  Majesty  ?  Job  xx»viii. 
37,  38.  Who  can  number,  muster,  or  arrange  the 
clouds  in  wisdom,  so  as  to  have  them  ready  at  hand 
on  any  emergency  ?  And  who  can  empty  those  bot- 
tles of  heaven,  in  copious  but  seasonable  cfTusions 
upon  the  earth  !  when,  as  in  the  case  described  atxivo, 
the  dust  of  the  roads  is  attenuated  into  powder,  and 
the  clods  of  the  valky  are  glued  fast  tugellier  ? 


LETTER  VIII. 


867 


fruits,  and  flowers, — Now  the  sun,  mild  and 
refulgent,  issues  through  the  portals  of  the 
east.     Pleased,  as  it  were,  to  have  emerged 
from  the  late  aggravated  darkness,  he  looks 
abroad  with  peculiar  gaiety  and  the  most  en- 
gaging splendours-      He  looks  through  the 
disburdened  air,  and  finds  a  gladdened  world, 
that    wants    nothing    but    his    all-cheering 
beams,  to  render  its  satisfaction   complete. 
The  glory  comes  ! — Hail  to  thy  rising  ray, 
Great  lamp  of  light,  and  second  source  of  day  ! 
Who  robe  the  world,  each  nipping  gale  remove, 
Treat  e\  ery  sense,  and  beam  creating  love. — 

KiBKPATRICK. 

At  his  auspicious  approach,  the  freshened 
mountains  lift  their  heads,  and  smile.  The 
garden  opens  its  aromatic  stores  and  breathes, 
as  from  a  fuming  altar,  balm  to  the  smell, 
and  incense  to  the  skies.  The  little  hills, 
crowned  with  springing  plenty,  clap  their 
hands  on  every  side.  The  moistened  plains, 
and  iniguous  valleys,  "laugh  and  sing:" 
While  their  waters,  lately  exhausted,  again 
"are  made  deep,  and  their  rivers  run  like 
oil,"  Ezek.  xxxii.  14. 

The  whole  earth,  saturated  with  the 
bounty  of  heaven,  and  flushed  with  humid 
life,  wears  a  thousand  marks.of  gratitude  and 
complacency.  Washed  by  the  copious  rain, 
how  bright  and  vivid  is  the  universal  ver- 
dure !  The  green  carpet  below  may  almost 
vie  with  the  blue  canopy  above.  The  forest, 
and  every  tree,  burnish  their  colours,  and 
array  themselves  in  their  finest  apparel  ; 
which,  as  on  a  day  of  general  festivity,  is 
delicately  decked  with  gems — gems  of  un- 
sullied lustre,  and  of  genial  moisture.  From 
every  pasture,  and  from  all  the  grove,  the 
voice  of  pleasure  and  of  melody  resounds  ; 
while  the  oflScious  zephyrs  waft  the  floating 
harmony,  blended  with  native  perfumes — 
gently  waft  them  to  the  senses,  and  touch 
the  very  soul  with  transport. 

Could  there  be  a  more  brilliant  appear- 
ance, or  more  exuberant  demonstrations  of 
joy,  even  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  na- 
ture's birth  ?  With  what  admirable  pro- 
priety has  the  Psalmist  compared  yonder 
orient  sun,  in  all  his  sparkling  grandeur,  to 
a  young  exulting  "bridegroom,"  Psal.  xix.  5, 
who  comes  forth,  with  every  heightened  or- 
nament, from  his  chamber,  to  show  himself 
in  the  most  distinguished  period  of  his  life, 
and  to  receive  the  blessing  which  consum- 
mates his  happiness ! 

This  most  charming  and  equally  ma- 
jestic scene  recalls  to  my  memory  that  fine 
description  of  the  Messiah,  extant  in  the 
last  lovely  strains  of  the  Israelitish  swan  :* 
— He  shall  be  welcome  and  salutary,  "as 


*  Ijrne.Utish  Swan — In  allusion  to  those  well  known 
lines  of  the  poet, 

"  Multa  Dircapum  levat  aura  cygnum." 
And  not  without  a  reference  to  the  popular  notion, 
that  the  swan  sings  the  most  mclcxiious  notes  in  its 
last  moments.    "  Fuit  ha'c  facuiidiseuis  quasi  cygnea 
vox."— Tun- Y. 


the  light  of  the  morning ;  v/hen  the  sun 
ariseth,"  to  chase  the  malignant  shades,  and 
pour  day  through  the  reviving  world.  He 
shall  be  as  the  light  of  a  morning  that  is 
most  serenely  fair,  without  either  storms  to 
disturb,  or  clouds  to  obscure  the  glorious, 
the  delightful  dawn.  Yea,  his  appearance 
shall  be  "  more  beautiful,"  and  his  influence 
"  more  beneficial,*  than  the  clear  shining" 
of  that  grand  luminary,  after  a  night  of  set- 
tled gloom,  and  showers  of  incessant  rain  ; 
when  his  beams  shed  animating  warmth, 
and  vital  lustre,  on  the  tender  grass  impearl- 
ed  with  dews,  and  on  all  the  green  treasures 
of  the  teeming  earth. 

As  we  have  already  contemplated  the 
blessed  Jesus  under  the  amiable  character 
of  the  Just  One,  the  foregoing  passage  of 
Scripture  represents  him  to  our  faith,  in  the 
more  majestic  quality  of  the  Lord  of  Glory  ; 
or  rather  unites  the  two  grandrpeculiarities 
which  render  him  unparalleled  in  his  per- 
sonal, and  all-sufficient  in  his  mediatorial 
capacity. 

Great,  unspeakably  great  and  glorious, 
would  our  Saviour  appear,  if  we  had  no 
other  manifestations  of  his  excellency,  than 
those  which  preceded  his  mysterious  incar- 
nation. In  the  ancient  scriptures,  he  stands 
characterised  as  the  supreme  object  of  God's 
incfffible  complacency ;  vested  with  a  glory, 
prior  to  the  birth  of  time,  or  the  existence 
of  things  ;  even  "  the  glory  which  he  had 
with  the  Father  before  the  world  was." 
John  xvii-  5.  He  is  everywhere  exhibited 
as  the  ultimate  desire  of  all  nations,  the  sole 
hope  of  all  the  ends  of  the  earth,  the  seed 
of  inestimable  and  universal  importance,  in 
whom  all  people,  natioiis,  and  languages, 
should  be  blessed.  In  those  royal,  or  ra- 
ther divine  acts  and  monuments,  he  is  pub- 
licly recognised  as  the  Ruler  of  God's  peo- 
ple ;  whose  dominion  is  an  everlasting  do- 
minion, and  his  kingdom  from  generation  to 
generation.  And  how  august,  how  venera- 
ble, is  this  sovereign  !  since  it  was  the 
highest  honour  of  the  most  eminent  saints, 
and  renowned  monarchs,"!"  to  act  as  harbin- 


More  beautiful,  more  beneficial,  than  the  clear 
shining,  2  Sam.  xxiii.  4. — Thus  we  have  ventured  to 
translate,  or  rather  to  paraphrase  the  words  HiJia. 
That  the  prefix  often  occurs  in  the  acceptation  of 
comparative  pre-eminence,  is  plain  from  a  very  re- 
markable passage  in  Psalm  xix.  10.  Where  our  in- 
spired author,  quite  ravished  v/ith  the  love  of  the  sa- 
cred oracles,  declares,  "  They  are  desirable  beyond 
gold,  even  beyond  the  droppings  of  the  luiney-comb." 

If  this  sense  is  admitted,  we  shall  havea  iinc  com- 
parison, and  a  grand  advance  upon  it;  acknowledging 
the  insuihciency  even  of  the  str<mgest  and  l)rightest 
images,  to  represent  the  glory  of  Christ's  kingdom, 
and  thelienignity  of  hisadrainistration.  Perhaps  the 
translation  may  be  too  free  and  daring,  and  not  ap- 
prove itself  to  the  exact  critic.  The  sense,  however, 
IS  unquestionably  just;  agreeable  to  the  whole  tenor 
of  scripture;  and  can  want  uo  recommendation  to  the 
intelligent  Christian. 

t  Moses,  for  instance,  and  Joshua,  David,  and  So- 
lomon, were  types,  strongly  marked  types,  of  our 
great  Lawgiver  and  Deliverer,  of  our  divine  Hulcr 
and  Preacher. 


368 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


gers.  The  splendour  of  the  temple,  the 
richness  of  its  ornaments,  and  the  solemnity 
of  its  services,  were  the  ensigns  of  his  gran- 
deur— were  his  sacred  regalia,  intended  to 
usher  him  into  the  world  with  becoming 
state. 

Every  inspired  prophet  was  his  herald  ; 
deputed  to  blazon  his  perfections,  or  foretell 
his  coming.  Let  us  hear  one  speaking  the 
sentiments  of  all : — "  God  the  Saviour  came 
from  Teman,  and  the  Holy  One  from  Mount 
Paron.  [His  glory  covered  the  heavens, 
and  the  earth  was  full  of  his  praise."* 
Thunders  sounded  his  trumpet,  and  light- 
nings waved  his  banners.  "  Before  him 
went  the  pestilence,"  for  the  destruction  of 
his  enemies  ;  but,  for  the  deliverance  of  Is- 
rael, "  he  rode  upon  his  horses  and  chariots 
of  salvation.  The  mountains  saw  him,  and 
they  trembled ;  the  everlasting  hills,  and 
they  bowed  their  heads.  The  abyss  uttered 
her  voice,"  and  acknowledged  his  sover- 
eignty through  her  deepest  caverns,  "  the 
towering  surges  lifted  up  their  hands,"  and 
remained  in  a  suspended  posture  while  his 
people  passed  through  the  opening  lines. 
Indeed,  both  depth,  and  height,  and  every 
creature,  have  paid  him  homage,  and  done 
him  service.  And  shall  not  we,  my  dear 
Theron,  "submit  to  his  righteousness?" 
Submit !  Shall  we  not  embrace  it ;  rely  on 
it ;  and,  with  joyful  hearts,  with  triumphing 
tongues,  say,  "  There  is  none,  there  is  no- 
thing like  it !"     1  Sam.  xxi.  9. 

Does  not  all  mankind  agree  to  estimate 
the  merit  of  the  practice  according  to  the 
dignity  of  the  person  ?  If  a  neighbour  of  in- 
ferior rank  visit  some  poor  afflicted  wretch 
in  a  coarse  garret,  and  on  a  tattered  bed,  it 
is  no  very  extraordinary  favour ;  but  if  a 
lady  of  the  first  distinction,  or  a  nobleman 
of  the  highest  order,  perform  the  same  of- 
lice,  it  is  a  much  more  remarkable,  a  much 
more  admired  instance  of  self-denying  cha- 
rity. On  the  foot  of  this  calculation,  to 
what  a  superemiuent  height  will  the  worth- 
iness of  our  Lord's  obedience  rise  ?  It  will 


•  See  Hab.  iii.  Thegreatest  partof  whichsublime 
ode  refers  to  the  wonderful  works  recorded  by  Moses 
and  Joshua.  It  seems,  especially  in  the  oxordium,  to 
be  an  imitation  of  that  grand  and  majestic  descrip- 
tion, with  which  the  Jewish  legislator  introduces  his 
last  solemn  benediction.  Deut.  xxxiii. — These  works 
are,  by  Aspasio,  ascribed  to  Christ,  and  I  think  it  is 
demonstrably  certain,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Jeho- 
vah celebrated  in  the  books  of  Moses,  and  in  the  writ- 
ings of  the  prophets.  It  is  Christ,  wlio  dwelt  in  the 
burning  bush,  and  walked  in  the  burning  fiery  fur- 
nace. It  is  Christ,  who  wrought  the  miracles  in 
Egypt,  and  the  wonders  in  the  held  of  Zoan.  The 
temporal  deliverer,  and  the  eternal  Redeemer  of  Is- 
rael, are  one  and  the  same.  He  is  that  Captain  of  the 
hosts  of  the  Lord,  who  gave  the  nations  as  dust  to 
their  sword,  and  as  driven  stubble  to  their  bow.  Josh. 
V.  14.  He  is  that  Mighty  One  who  punished  the  stout 
heart  of  the  King  of  Assyria,  who  cut  down  the  thick- 
est of  his  forest,  and  lopped  his  bough  with  terror. 
Isa.  X.  34.  He  gave  Nloses  his  commission;  gave 
Moses  his  law  ;  and  was  both  the  Lord,  and  the  end, 
of  that  sacred,  significant,  mysterious  economy. 
Compare  1  Cor.  x.  'J,  with  Numb.  xxi.  ti,  7.  Si^  Uaii. 
iii.  25 ;  Keb.  iii.  3,  4. 


rise,  like  some  magiiiflcent  edifice,  whose 
basis  rests  upon  the  centre,  whose  dimensions 
fill  the  hemisphere,  and  whose  turrets  glitter 
in  the  sky  :  or  rather,  it  will  extend  itself 
to  immensity ;  where  length,  and  breadth, 
and  all  dimensions  are  lost.  Especially  if 
we  consider  the  names  he  bears,  and  the  ho- 
nours he  receives ;  the  works  he  has  done,  and 
those  mightier  works  he  is  appointed  to  do. 

The  names  he  bears — The  title  by  which 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  distinguished  in  the 
heavenly  world ;  the  name  written  on  his 
vesture,  and  on  his  thigh,  is  "  King  of  kings, 
and  Lord  of  lords."  Rev.  xix.  16.  The  de- 
scription which  the  incomprehensible  Jeho- 
vah gives  of  the  Surety  for  sinful  men,  runs  in 
this  exalted  strain :  "  The  Man  that  is  my 
fellow,"*  Zech.  xiii.  7,  which  the  apostle 
explains  in  that  memorable  and  majestic 
clause :  "  He  thought  it  no  robbery  to  be 
equal  with  God."t  Phil.'Ji.  6.  The  Holy 
Ghost  speaking,  by  the  great  prophet  Isaiah, 
of  the  virgin's  son,  enumerates  several  grand 
distinctions,  both  of  his  person  and  his 
office.  He  styles  the  child  that  should  be 
born,  "  the  Wonderful  Counsellor,  the 
Everlasting  Father,  the  Mighty  God,  the 
Prince  of  Peace,"  Isaiah  ix.  6.  The  same 
inspired  writer,  though  eloquent  above  all 
orators,  and  more  sublime  than  the  loftiest 
poet,  cries  out  Tn  rapturous  astonishment, 
"  Who  can  declare  his  generation?"  Isaiah 
liii.  8.  What  pencil  can  portray,  what 
language  can  express,  his  matchless  excel- 
lencies ?  And  may  we  not  with  equal  pro- 
priety demand,  Who  can  declare  the  meri- 
torious perfection  of  his  righteousness  ?  It 
is  precious  beyond  comparison ;  beyond 
imagination  precious. 

The  honours  which  our  Lord  receives  are 
proportioned  to  the  illustrious  characters 
which  he  sustains.  John  the  Baptist,  than 
whom  a  greater  prophet  or  a  better  judge 
was  not  born  of  woman,  professes  himself 
unworthy  "  to  stoop  down  and  unloose  the 
latchet  of  his  shoes,"  Mark  i.  7  ;  unworthy, 
though  a  burning  and  shining  light  in  his 
generation,  to  perform  the  meanest  service 
to  this  prince  of  heaven.  Stephen,  who 
leads  the  van  in  the  noble  army  of  Christian 
martyrs,  beheld  such  a  representation  of  his 
crucified  Master's  glory,  as  enabled  him  to 
exult  with  divine  delight,  even  amidst  the 


*  ini^lD  "  Contribulis  vel  coequalis,"  my  fellow, 
or  my  equal.  The  original  expression  occurs  no- 
where but  in  this  verse  of  Zechariah,  and  in  the  book 
of  Leviticus.  In  one  text,  it  is  explained  by  brother, 
or  partaker  of  the  same  nature.  In  every  other  place, 
I  believe  it  would  be  found  to  signify  not  barely  a 
neighbour,  but  an  equal ;  one  who  stands  upon  the 
same  level  with  regard  to  the  claims  of  equity,  and 
the  common  rights  of  life.  In  either  sense,  it  mili- 
tates strongly  for  the  divinity  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ. 

f  .'^ome  writers,  I  am  aware,  have  endeavoured  to 
interpret  away  this  evidence  of  our  Lord's  divine  na- 
ture :  but  I  think  with  great  injury  to  the  context^ 
and  no  less  violence  to  the  plirase. 


LETTER   VIIJ. 


furious  nssatilts  of  liis  persecutors,  and  under 
the  violent  blows  of  his  murderers,  Acts  vii. 
■5G.  Assured  that  Jesus  has  all  power  in 
heaven  and  earth,  by  an  act  of  the  most  solemn 
worship,  he  commits  his  departing  soul,  that 
most  important  of  all  trusts,  to  his  Redeem- 
er's hand,  Acts  vii.  59.  Nor  by  the  first 
martyr  alone,  but  in  all  churches  of  the 
saints,  and  in  every  age  of  Christianity,  has 
the  Lord  Jesus  been  addressed  as  tlie  con- 
stant object  of  his  peo])le's  adoration,  and 
acknowledged  as  the  ever-faithful  depository 
of  their  eternal  interests. 

When  Isaiah  beheld  a  visionary  manifes- 
tation of  Christ,*  the  first-born  sons  of  light 
were  waiting  around  him  in  postures  of  duti- 
ful submission.  These  celestial  beings,  whose 
very  feet  are  too  bright  for  mortals  to  view, 
veil  their  faces  before  his  infinitely  superior  ef- 
fulgence. The  seraphs,  who  are  all  zeal  and 
all  love,  celebrate  his  perfections,  and  cry 
one  to  another,  "  The  whole  earth  is  full  of 
his  gloiy."  And  is  not  heaven  also  filled 
with  his  glory  ?  does  not  heaven  likewise 
resound  with  his  praise  ?  The  beloved  dis- 
ciple, in  a  vision  no  less  clear,  and  far  more 
magnificent,  beholds  the  Lamb  that  was  slain, 
standing  in  the  midst  of  a  resplendent  throne, 
most  beautifully  adorned  with  a  circling  rain- 
bow, and  terribly  dignified  by  the  blaze  of 
lightnings,  and  the  sound  of  thunders.  Be- 
fore this  august  throne,  and  at  the  disposal 
of  the  once  slaughtered  Saviour,  are  "  seven 
lamps  of  burning  fire,''  expressive  of  the  Di- 
vine Spirit  in  all  the  variety  of  his  miracu- 
lous gifts  and  sanctifying  graces.  Rev.  iv.  5. 
pour-and-twenty  elders,  clothed  in  white 
raiment,  with  crowns  on  their  heads,  and  the 
harps  of  God  in  their  hands,  fall  prostrate  in 
deepest  homage  before  the  Lamb.  They 
strike  the  golden  strings,  and  sing  that  su- 
blime eucharistic  hymn,  "  Thou  art  worthy 
to  take  the  book,  and  to  open  the  seals  there- 
of ;  for  thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed 
us  to  God  by  thy  blood,  out  of  every  kind- 
red, and  tongue,  and  people,  and  nation  ; 
and  hast  made  us,  unto  our  God,  kings  and 
priests,  Rev.  v.  9,  10. 

Behold  the  hierarchies  of  angels  :  they  are 
in  number  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand. 
—Hark  !  they  raise  their  voice,  and  awfiken 
all  the  powers  of  harmony.  Who  is  the  sub- 
ject, and  what  is  the  burden  of  their  song  ? 
"  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,  to  re- 
ceive power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and 
strength,  and  honour,  and  blessing."  Nor 
these  alone,  but  every  creature  which  is  in 
heaven,  and  on  the  earth,  and  under  the  earth, 
and  such  as  are  in  the  sea,  join  the  immense 
chorus.  They  cry,  in  loud  responsive  strani.s 
of  melody  and  devotion,  "  Blessing,  and  ho- 
nour, and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  him 
that  sitteth  uj)on  the   throne,  and  unto  the 

*  l3a.  vi.  1,  2,  &c.  •cmpareil  with  Johr,  xii.  41. 


SG9 
Rev.  V.  11,  12; 


Lamb  for  ever  and   i 
13. 

This,  you  observe,  is  the  revout  acl;now- 
ledgment,  not  only  of  the  cherubim,  the  se- 
raphim, and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect,  but  of  every  creature.  The  sun,  the 
moon,  and  the  stars,  which  garnish  the  hea- 
vens ; — beasts  and  creeping  things,  moun- 
tains and  hills,  fruitful  trees  and  all  cedars, 
which  replenish  the  earth  ;— metals  and  mi- 
nerals, gems  and  fossils,  the  subterraneous 
riches  of  nature,  or  things  which  are  under  the 
earth; — even  all  those  objects  which  my  The- 
ronlatelycontemplated,(io,intheir  way,  mag- 
nify the  Lord  Jesus.  They  bear  witness  to 
his  power,  as  their  Creator  ;  they  are  subser- 
vient to  his  interests,  as  our  Mediator ;  and 
in  this  manner  they  glorify  his  sacred  name. 

Under  such  views  of  the  blessed  Redeem- 
er, enlarged  and  elevated  even  to  astonish- 
ment, is  it  possible  to  overrate  the  worth  of 
his  mediatorial  obedience  ?  Is  it  possible  to 
lay  too  much  stress  on  his  expiatory  sacri- 
fice, or  ascribe  too  much  efficacy  to  his  vica- 
rious righteousness. 

To  the  honours  which  he  receives,  let  us 
add  the  works  which  he  has  done.  By  these, 
in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  were  displayed  the 
greatness  of  his  glory,  and  the  might  of  his 
Majesty. 

"Behold!"  says  the  Almighty  Father, 
"  my  servant," — he  who  condescends  to  be- 
came my  servant  in  the  matchless  work  of 
redemption — "  shall  deal  prudently, '  shall 
conduct  himself  with  all  the  dignity  and  all 
the  sanctity  of  wisdom.  In  consequence  of 
which,  "  he  shall  be  exalted,  be  extolled,  and 
be  very  high."  Isa.  lii.  13.  The  paraphiase 
of  the  Jewish  commentators  on  this  beauti- 
ful climax  is,  though  inadequate,  not  con- 
temptible. "  The  Messiah,"  they  say,  "  shall 
be  higher  than  Abraham,  more  illustrious 
than  Moses,  and  exalted  above  the  angels 
of  light,  even  above  the  prime  ministers*  of 
heaven."  What  follows,  is  an  attempt  to 
render  this  exposition  somewhat  less  defec- 
tive. 

Here,  could  you  open  my  chamber-door, 
and  peep  upon  yoia-  friend,  you  would  find 
him  in  the  same  attitude,  and  under  the  same 
])erplexity  which  were  formerly  observed  in 
Phocion.  Sitting  one  day  amidst  an  assem- 
bly of  the  people,  and  preparing  to  make  a 
public  oration,  he  appeared  uncommonly 
thoughtful.  Being  asked  the  reason,  "  I 
am  considering,"  said  he,  "  how  I  may 
shorten  what  I  shall  have  occasion  to  sj)eak." 
The  compass  of  my  subject  would  demand 
many  volumes  ;  whereas  the  limits  of  my 
letter  will  allow  but  a  few  paragniphs. 

Our  Lord  gave  sight  to  the  blind.  He 
poured  day  upon   those  hopeless  and  be- 


*  Prime  ministers;  this  is  nliiiost  a  liural  transla- 
tion oftlie  ori;;iiial  wuiils. 

2ii 


no 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


ni^hfefl  eyes  which  had  never  been  visited 
with  the  lea'^t  diiwiiing  ray — The  dumb,  at 
his  command,  found  a  ready  tongue,  and 
burst  into  songs  of  praise — The  deaf  were 
all  ear,  and  listened  to  the  joyful  sound  of 
salvation — The  lame,  lame  from  their  very 
birth,  threw  aside  their  crutches,  and  full 
of  transport  and  exultation  leaped  like  the 
bounding  roe.*  He  restored  floridity  and 
beauty  to  the  flesh  emaciated  by  consuming 
sickness,  or  incrusted  with  a  loathsome  le- 
prosy. All  manner  of  diseases,  though 
blended  with  the  earliest  seeds  of  life,  and 
rivetted  in  the  constitution  by  a  long  invet- 
erate predominancy — diseases  that  baflled 
the  skill  of  the  physician,  and  mocked  the 
force  of  medicine — these  he  cured,  not  by 
tedious  applications,  but  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  ;  not  by  csotly  prescriptions  or  pain- 
ful operations,  but  by  a  word  from  his  mouth 
or  a  touch  from  his  hand  :  nay,  by  the  fringe 
of  his  garment,  or  the  bare  act  of  his  will. 

Any  one  of  these  miracles  had  been 
enough  to  endear  the  character,  and  eter- 
nize the  memory  of  another  person  :  But 
they  were  common  things,  matters  of  daily 
occurence  with  our  divine  Master.  The 
years  of  his  public  ministry  were  an  uninter- 
mitted  series  of  such  healing  wonders;  or  if 
any  intermission  took  place,  it  was  only  to 
make  way  for  more  invaluable  miracles  of 
spiritual  beneficence. 

Behold  him  exercising  his  dominion  over 
the  vegetable  creation.  A  fig-tree,  adorned 
with  the  most  promising  spread  of  leaves, 
but  unproductive  of  the  expected  fruit, 
withers  away  at  his  rebuke.  It  is  not  on- 
ly stripped  of  its  verdant  honours,  but  dried 
up  from  the  very  roots,  M^nk  xi.  20,  and 
perishes  for  ever:  A  fearful,  yet  signifi- 
cant intimation  of  that  final  ruin  which  will 
overtake  the  specious  hypocrite,  who,  while 
lavish  in  outward  profession,  is  destitute  of 
inward  piety. 

His  eye  pierced  through  the  whole  world 
of  waters,  discerned  the  fish  that  had  just 
swallowed  apiece  of  silver  coin,  and  guided 


its  course  to  Peter's  hook.  *  It  is  trne, 
when  the  gatherers  of  the  sacred  tax  came 
to  collect  his  share  for  the  reparation  of  the 
temple,  he  had  not  a  sufficiency  of  money 
to  satisfy  so  small  a  demand  ;f  yet  he  takes 
occasion,  from  this  most  abiect  poverty,  to 
manifest  the  immensity  of  his  riches.  He 
makes  the  great  deep  his  revenue,  and  bids 
the  scaly  nations  bring  him  their  tribute. 
Never  was  such  indigence  associated  with 
such  magnificence  !  And  never,  never  let  us 
forget,  that  the  indigence  was  ours,  the  mag- 
nificence all  his  own  ! 

The  waters  themselves,  it  may  be  said, 
are  far  more  unmanageable  than  their  inha- 
bitants. Who  can  control  that  outrageous 
element,  which  has  destroyed  so  many  gal- 
lant fleets,  with  the  armies  they  bore  ;  and 
which  would  laugh  at  the  opposition  of  the 
united  world  ?  The  Lord  Jesus  walks  upon 
its  rolling  surges, J  and  speaks  its  most  tem- 
pestuous agitations  into  a  calm.  "  The 
waves  of  the  sea  are  mighty  and  rage  terri- 
bly ;"  hut  "  yet  the  Lord,"  who  loved  us, 
and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  osvn 
blood,  "  is  mightier,"  Psalm  xciii.  5- 

The  winds  are  yet  more  ungovernable 
than  the  maddening  ocean.  When  these  are 
hurled  abroad  §  to  shatter  the  forests, 
and  shake  the  shores,  who  can  curb  their 
rage  ?  what  can  withstand  their  impetuosi-- 
ty  ?  Even  the  boisterous  winds  hear  the 
Saviour's  voice  ;  and  as  soon  as  they  hear, 
obey.  His  voice,  more  powerful  to  restrain 
than  brazen  dimgeons  to  confine,  chides  the 
furious  whirlwind.  The  furious  whirlwind 
is   awed   into   immediate l|    silence.     That 


•  We  have  the  finest  representation  of  thisevcntj  giv- 
en us  by  theinspired  historian,  Acts  iii.8.  Andhe leap- 
ing up,  stood,  and  walked,  and  entered  with  them  into 
the  temple;  walking,  and  leaping,  and  praising  God. 
The  very  .language  seems  to  exult,  in  a  redundant  flow 
of  expressive  phrases;  just  as  a  poor  cripple,  who  ne- 
ver knew  either  the  comfort  of  bodily  vigour,  or  the 
pleasure  of  local  motion,  may  be  supposed  to  do,  when 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly  blessed  with  both.  He 
would  exert  his  new  acquired  powers  again  and  again, 
first  in  one  attitude,  then  in  another;  sometimes  to 
try  whether  he  was  really  healed,  and  not  under  the 
pleasing  delusion  of  a  dream,  sometimes  from  a  trans- 
port of  conscious  delight,  and  to  express  the  sallies  of 
joy  that  sprung  up  in  liis  heart. 

Though  I  acknowledge  Mr.  Pope's  description  to 
be  extremely  beautiful, 

'  The  lame  their  crutch  forego, 


And  leap,  exulting,  like  the  bounding  roe  . 
yet  1  cannot  persuade  myself,  that  itis  to  be  conipar-  ,    .. 
ed  with  St.  Luke's  draught,  either  in  the  variety  of  I  have  a  prodigious  swell,  and  very  tremendous  agila^ 


»  Matth.  xvii.  27.  How  wonderful  is  this  seeming- 
ly little  miracle  !  or  rather,  what  a  cluster  of  wonders 
is  comprised  in  this  single  act  I  That  any  fish  with 
money  in  its  mouth,  should  be  catched — with  money 
just  of  such  a  value, — andin  the  very  first  fish  that  of- 
fered itself!  What  a  pregnant  display  of  omniscience 
to  know,  of  omnipotence  to  overrule,  all  these  for- 
tuitous incidents! 
t  About  fourteen -pence. 

t  He  treadeth  upon  the  waves  of  the  sea,  is  one  of  tlie 
prerogatives  ascribed  to  the  most  high  God,  Job.  ix.  8. 
The  original  word  *n*ni  signifies  "  a  sea  th^t 
rolls  mountain  high  ;"  and  such,  we  have  reason  to 
suppose,  were  the  waves  on  which  our  Lord  walked, 
since  the  vessel  to  which  he  bent  his  course,  waa 
(iatrcivi^cfiivev.,  "lashed,  battered,  tormented,"  liy 
their  vehement  concussions,  Matth.  xiv.  24. 

§  This  is  a  literal  translation  of  that  beautiful  He- 
brew phrase  which  occurs  Jonah  i.  4.  The  sncred 
writer.describing  the  stormy  messenger,  which  was  des- 
patched to  arrest  a  fugitive  servant,  says,  7IO  TT 
"The  Lord  hurled  forth  a  great  wind."  The  same 
expression  is  applied  to  Saul,  1  Sam.  xviii.  11.  when 
he  darted  his  javelin  at  David,  with  a  design  to  trans- 
fix and  nail  him  to  the  wall.  What  an  elegant,  and 
how  awful  an  image!  Storms  and  tempests,  with  all 
their  irresistible  fury,  and  dreadful  ravages,  are  like 
missive  weapons  in  the  hands  of  J«hovah,  which  he 
launches  with  greater  ease,  and  surer  aim,  than  the 
most  expert  warrior  emits  the  pointed  steel. 

Immediate — This  circumstance,  as  very  much  ag- 
grandizing the  miracle,  is  with  great  historical  proprie- 
ty,  remarked  by  the  evangelist.    The  sea  is  knoH-n  to 


figures,  in  the  richness  of  colouring,  or  in  that  exhu-    tions,  for  a  considerable  time  after  the  tempestuous 
berance  of  style,  which,  on  this  occasion,  is  so  happi-    wind  ceases.   On  this  occasion,  and  in  obedience  to  its 


ly  significant,  and  so  perfectly  picturesque. 


I  MaJser's  will,  it  departs  from  the  established  laws  of 


LETTER  VIII. 


371 


t«-?nrh  a  moment  ac:o  heaved  the  hillows  to 
the  clouds,  and  filled  witli  oiitnitje  ihe  howl- 
ing firmament,  now  gently  whispers  among 
the  shrouds,  and  scarcely  curls  the  smooth 
expanse. 

Something  there  is,  even  within  the  nar- 
row com[)ass  of  our  own  breasts,  which  af- 
fords room  for  more  signal  exertions  of 
Deity,  than  the  turbulent  billows  or  the  re- 
sistless storm.  Agreeably  to  the  suggestion 
of  a  projihet,  "  For  lo  I  he  that  formeth  the 
mountains,  and  createth  the  wind  ;"_,  and 
as  a  more  pregnant  proof  of  divitie  perfec- 
tion, "declareth  unto  man  what  is  his 
thought,  the  God  of  hosts  is  his  name," 
Amos.  iv.  13 ;  the  possessor  of  such  sur- 
passing power  and  wisdom,  must  unques- 
tionably be  the  supreme  I^ord.  And  who 
js  this,  but  Jesus  Christ?  "He  knew 
what  was  in  man,"*  John.  ii.  25.  He  dis- 
cerned the  secrets  of  the  heart ;  discerned 
the  latent  purpose  before  it  disclosed  itself 
in  action  ;  even  before  it  was  uttered  in 
speech  ;  nay,  while  it  lay  yet  an  unformed 
embryo  in  tl'.e  mind. 

His  glance  pierced  into  futurity ;  espied 
events  in  all  their  circumstances, -j-  and  with 
the  greatest  perspicuity,  before  they  came 
into  being.  The  hidden  things  of  darkness 
were  open,  and  the  contingencies  of  to- 
morrow were  present,  to  his  all-pervading 
eye.  Nay,  the  uiithought  of  revolutions 
even  of  distant  ages,  the  astonishing  catas- 
trophe of  dissolving  nature,  and  the  awful 
process  of  everlasting  judgment,  he  clear- 
ly foresaw,  and  particularly  foretold. 

Nor  does  he  only  penetrate  the  recesses, 
but  over-rule  the  operations  of  the  soul. 
He  so  intimidated  a  multitude  of  sacrile- 
gious wretches,  that  they  fled,  not  before 
his  drawn  sword  or  bent  bow,  but  at  the 
shaking    of  his    scourge,  J    John    ii.    14. 


( 


motion.  No  sooner  is  the  word  spoken,  but  there  is 
a  ilm ;  not  .in  advancing,  but  an  instantaneous 
cahn  ;  not  a  partial,  but  a  perfect  calm,  Matth.  viii. 
26;  Markiv.  ,3!). 

•  This  all-disceming  intelligence  of  the  Deity  is 
very  emphatically  expressed  by  the  psalmist,  Psal. 
cxxxix.  I,  i.  itc.  thou{;h  thestntiment  in  one  clause 
seems  tobesomewjiat  weakened  by  our  version.  There 
is  not  a  word  in  my  touijuc  would  have  a  nobler  turn, 
and  more  extensive  meaning,  if  rendered,  "  Hefore 
the  word  is  on  my  tongue,  thou,  O  Lord,  knowest  it 
altogether." 

*  In  all  their  circumstances. — See  a  very  remarka- 
ble exemplification  of  this  particular,  Mark  xiv.  l,i. 
There  shall  meet  you — not  barely  a  jjerson,  but  tlie 
Hex  and  age  arc  both  specified — not  two,  or  several, 
but  one  ui.in  : — not  within  any  given  sp.ice  of  time, 
but  at  the  very  instant  of  your  arrival ; — not  empty- 
handed,  but  bearing  a  vessel ; — not  of  wood  or  metal, 
but  an  earlluu  pitcher; — filled,  not  with  wine  or 
milk,  but  with  water; — carrying,  it  into  that  very 
house,  where  the)>reparati()n  was  made,  and  the  pass- 
over  w.as  to  lie  celebrated.  What  amultitude  of  con- 
tingencies !  all  minutely  foretold  by  our  Lord. 

J  St.  Jerome  looks  upon  thii  miracle  as  one  of  the 
gre.itest  which  our  Saviour  wrought.  And  indeed, 
the  circumstances  are  very  extraordinary.  That  one 
man  should  undertake  to  hold  and  execute  so  hanrd- 
ous  a  task; — one  man,  without  a  commissicm  from 
tVs.ar,  without  any  countenance  from  the  Jewish 
rulers,  witliout  any  aims,  either  to  terrify  the  multi- 
tude or  defnul  luniiwlf.    That  he  should  cast  out  the 


He  so  awed,  by  one  short  remonstrance, 
John  viii.  7,  an  assembly  of  conceited  and 
ostentatious  Pharisees,  that  they  could 
neither  gainsay,  nor  endure  the  energy  of  his 
discourse  ;  though  not  to  endure,  was  a  tacit 
acknowledgment  of  guilt,  ^and  must  cover 
them  with  public  confusion.  With  a  word 
the  most  mild  and  gentle  imaginable,  John 
xviii.  6,  he  Hung  such  terror  into  a  band 
of  armed  men,  as  blasted  all  their  courage, 
and  laid  them  stunned  and  prostrate  on  the 
ground. 

"  All  hearts  are  in  his  hand.  He  turn- 
eth  them  as  the  rivers  of  water,  whitherso- 
ever he  will,"  Prov.  xxi.  1  ;  with  as  much 
ease,  and  with  the  same  efficacious  sway, 
as  the  current  of  the  rivers  is  turned  by 
every  inflection  of  the  channel-  "  Follow  me," 
was  his  call  to  James  and  John  ;  "  Follow 
me,"*  Mark  ii.  14,  was  all  he  said  to  Levi 
the  publican.  Though  the  first  were  en- 
gaged in  all  the  ardour  of  business  ;  though 
the  last  was  sitting  at  the  very  receipt  of 
custom,  yet  both  he  and  they,  without  any 
demur,  or  the  least  delay,  left  their  employ, 
left  their  nearest  relations,  and  resigned 
their  earthly  all,  to  attend  a  poor  and  des- 
pised master.  Their  acquaintance,  no 
doubt,  would  remonstrate  a  thousand  incon- 
veniences, their  enemies  would  not  fail  to 
censure  them  as  rash  enthusiasts  :  but  all 
these  considerations  were  lighter  than  dust, 
were  less  than  nothing,  when  set  in  com- 
petition with  two  words  only  from  Jesus 
ot  Nazareth.  Impressed,  deeply  impressed 
by  his  powerful  summons,  such  loss  they 
counted  gain,  and  such  obloquy  glory. 

He  planted  bowels  of  compassion  in  the 
unfeeling  avaricious  wretch,  and  elevated, 
beyond  the  height  of  the  stars,  desires  that 
lay  grovelling  even  below  the  mire  of  the 
swine.  The  slaves  of  sin  he  restored  to  the 
liberty  of  righteousness  ;  and  unhappy  crea- 
tures who  were  degenerated  into  the  like- 
ness of  the  devil,  he  renewed  after  the  image 
of  the  blessed  God.  These  were  the  effects 


wholetribc  of  mercenary  traffickers,  wrest  from  thosi 
worshijipers  of  wealth  their  darling  idol,  and  trample 
under  foot  their  groat  Dian.a.  And  all,  without  tu- 
mult or  opjiosition;  not  oiieof  thes.Tcrilegious  rabtVo 
daring  to  "  move  the  hanil,  or  oi)en  the  mouth,  or 
peep."  Whoever  rellects  on  the  tierce  and  imgovem- 
able  nature  of  an  incensed  populace,  or  considers  the 
bitter  and  outrageous  zeal  of  Demetrius  and  the 
craftsmen,  on  a  less  irritating  occasion,  maypossib'y 
find  himself  almost,  if  not  altogether,  of  the  Latin 
father's  opinion. 

•  Ilesiudin  the  beginning,  "  Let  there  be  light;" 
there  was  light.;  Let  there  lie  a  firmament ;"  it  w.-is 
spread  abroa<l:  "  I>et  there  be  a  world;"  it  arose  of 
nothing.  In  the  d.ays  of  liis  llesh,  likewise,  he  speaks, 
and  it  is  done.  His  word  is  a  work.  lie  says  to  the 
disciples,  "  Follow  me;"  they  come:  To  the  leper, 
"lie  dean;"  he  is  cleansed:  To  the  par.alytic. 
"Arise,  take  up  thy  lied  and  walk  ;"  It  is  all  perform- 
ed as  soon  as  commanded.  Surely  then  we  must  con- 
fess, this  is  the  voice  of  a  fiod,  not  of  a  m.an  !  1 '  ►«- 
H-riTi-)  is  our  Lord's  usual  word,  when  he  grants  a  mir 
aculous  cure,  which  exactly  correspond,  with  that  ad- 
mired and  magnificent  expression  in  the  original. 
Gen.  i.  3. 


372 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


of  his  personal  preaching  ;  these  are  still  the 
conquests  of  his  glorious  gospel :  And  do 
not  these  declare  his  dominion  over  the  in- 
tellectual  economy  ?  that  the  world  of 
minds,  as  well  as  of  material  nature,  is  open 
to  his  inspection,  and  subject  to  his  con- 
trol ? 

The  dead  seem  to  be  more  remote  from 
human  cognizance  than  the  secrets  of  the 
breast ;  less  liable  to  any  human  jurisdiction 
than  the  warring  elements.  What  potentate 
can  issue  a  writ  of  release  to  the  grave  ?  or 
cite  the  dislodged  soul  to  re-enter  the 
breathless  corpse  ?  Yet  this,  even  this,  our 
mighty  Mediator  executed.  He  opened 
the  eyes  which  were  sunk  in  their  sockets, 
and  sealed  in  the  tomb.  He  bid  the  heart 
that  had  forgot  its  vital  motion,  spring 
into  renewed  and  vigorous  life.  The  crim- 
son  flood,  long  congealed  by  the  icy  hand  of 
death  ;  which  had  not  only  lost  its  pulse  by 
stagnation,  but  likewise  changed  its  very 
texture  by  "  putrefaction,"  John  xi.  39,  cir- 
culates at  his  order,  all  florid  and  mantling 
with  health,  through  the  wondering  veins. 
The  spirit,  which  had  taken  its  flight  into 
the  invisible  state,  had  taken  its  place  in 
eternal  habitations,  returns  at  our  Redeem- 
er's signal  to  the  tenement  of  mouldering 
clay  :  and,  by  the  amazing  visit,  proclaims 
his  sovereignty  over  those  unknown  realms 
and  their  mysterious  inhabitants. 

As  he  recalls  from,  so  he  admits  into  the 
abodes  of  future  happiness.  In  the  very 
lowest  depths  of  his  humiliation,  he  dispos- 
ed of  the  seats  of  bliss,  and  the  thrones  of 
glory.  His  hands,  when  swollen  with 
wounds,  and  nailed  to  the  tree,  evidently 
sustained  "  the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death," 
Rev.  i.  18.  Then,  even  then,  he  opened 
and  he  shut  either  the  gates  of  the  grave  or 
the  portals  of  paradise.  What  he  speaks 
to  the  penitent  thief  is  the  language  of  su- 
preme authority  :  "  To-day  shall  thou  be 
with  me  in  paradise,"  Luke  xxiii.  43.  It  is 
a  royal  mandamus,  not  a  humble  petition. 

Does  our  Lord's  superiority  extend  to 
those  malignant  beings,  the  devil  and  his 
angels?  Even  these,  in  spite  of  all  their 
formidable  strength,"  and  inextinguishable 
rage,  he  makes  his  footstool.  He  brake  the 
teeth  of  those  infernal  lions,  and  rescued 
the  helpless  prey  on  which  their  bloody  jaws 
were  closing.  At  his  command  they  aban- 
don their  conquests,  and  relinquish,  however 
indignant,  however  reluctant,  their  long  ac- 
customed habitations.  His  single  command, 
more  forcible  than  ten  thousand  thunder- 
bolts, dispossesses  a  whole  legion,  Mark  v. 
9,  of  those  fierce  and  haughty  spirits  ;  drives 


^  Milton,  describing  the  power  of  the  apostate  an- 
gels, says, 

The  least  of  whom  could  wield 

These  elements :  and  arm  him  with  the  force 
Of  all  their  regions. — Book  vi.  1.  2>l. 


them,  all  terrified  and  deprecating  severer 
vengeance,  to  seek  rest  in  solitary  deserts, 
or  to  herd  with  the  most  sordid  brutes. 

As  the  blessed  Jesus  treads  upon  the 
necks  of  those  powers  of  darkness,  he  re-^ 
ceives  the  willing  services  of  the  angels  of 
light.  They  that  excel*  in  strength,  and 
are  activt  as  flames  of  fire,  even  they  fulfil 
his  commandment,  and  hearken  unto  the 
voice  of  his  words.  They  graced  the  so- 
lemnity of  his  birth ;  they  attended  him  af- 
ter his  temptation  in  the  wilderness ;  they 
were  the  first  joyful  preachers  of  his  tri- 
umphant resurrection  ;  and,  now  he  is  seat- 
ed on  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  in  the 
highest, — 

.^^They  stand  with  wings  outspread. 
Listening  to  catch  their  Master's  least  coinmand. 
And  fly  through  nature,  ere  the  moment  end. 

Behold  him  now  doing  according  to  his 
will  in  the  armies  of  heaven,  and  among  the 
inhabitants  of  the  earth  ;  swaying  the  scep- 
tre over  the  legions  of  hell,  and  the  powers 
of  nature  ;  exercising  dominion  in  the  hearts 
of  men,  in  the  territories  of  the  grave,  and 
mansions  of  disembodied  spirits.  Then  let 
my  Theron  determine — under  such  views  of 
our  Saviour's  unequalled  majesty  and  un- 
bounded sovereignty,  let  him  determine — 
whether  it  be  safer  to  rest  our  infinite  and 
eternal  interests  on  our  own  righteousness 
rather  than  on  his. 

We  have  selected  some  few  manifesta- 
tions of  our  Redeemer's  excellent  greatness. 
Even  the  evangelical  historians  give  us  no 
larger  a  proportion  of  his  astonishing  deeds, 
than  the  first  fruits  bear  to  a  copious  har- 
vest. Yet,  were  they  all  particularly  enu- 
merated, and  circumstantially  displayed,  they 
would  appear  inconsiderable,  compared  with 
those  far  more  distinguished  trophies  of  al- 
mighty power  which  he  has  decreed  in  some 
future  period  to  erect,  t 


*  Would  any  oneseeasketchof  the  glory  and  excel- 
lence of  the  angelic  nature?  Let  him  see  it  in  that 
inimitably  fine  stroke  of  the  sacred  pencil :  I  saw  an- 
other angel  come  down  from  heaven,  having  great 
power,  and  the  earth  was  lightened  with  liis  glory. 
Rev.  xviii.  1.  The  last  clause  is,  I  think,  one  of  the 
most  masterly  touches  of  descriptive  painting  extant 
in  history,  poetry,  or  oratory.  Milton  gives  us  a  stric- 
ture of  the  same  kind,  and  on  the  same  subject.  But 
the  poetic  flight,  though  very  subhme,  is  absolutely 
inferior  to  the  apocalyptic  vision. 

On  he  led 

His  radiant  files,  dazzling  the  moon. 
In  this  case,  we  have  a  whole  brigade  of  celestial 
v.arriors;  in  the  former,  only  a  single  angelic  being. 
Those  are  represented  as  irradiating  the  night,  and 
outshining  the  moon  ;  this,  as  exceeding  the  bright- 
ness of  the  sun ;  diffusing  additional  splendours  on 
the  day ;  and  illuminating,  not  a  vast  plain,  not  a 
vaster  kingdom,  but  the  whole  face  of  the  globe.  If 
such  be  the  lustre  of  the  servant,  what  images  can  dis- 
play the  majesty  of  the  Lord  ?  who  has  thousand 
thousands  of  these  glorious  attendants  ministering 
unto  him,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  stand- 
ing before  him  ?  Dan.  iii.  10. 

t  The  dignity  of  our  Lord,  considered  as  the  Cre- 
ator and  Preserver  of  all  things,  is  not  mentioned 
here;  because  something  of  this  kind  is  professedly 
attempted  in  the  "  Descant  upon  Creation,",  sub- 
joined to   the  "  Meditations  among  the  Toniljs," 


LETTER  VIII. 


373 


He  will  gather  to  his  sacrefi  told  the  peo- 
ple of  his  ancient  church,  though  they  are 
dispersed  into  all  lands,  and  most  inveter- 
ately  prejudiced  against  the  truth  of  his  gos- 
pel. How  mighty  was  his  hand,  how 
illustriously  outstretched  his  arm,  when  he 
made  a  path  through  the  surges  of  the  ocean, 
drove  the  torrent  of  Jordan  backwards,  and 
fetched  rivers  of  w.iter  from  the  flinty  rock  ! 
Far  more  mighty  will  be  its  operations,  when 
lie  shall  remove  the  seemingly  insurmount- 
able obstructions  to  the  general  restoration  of 
the  Jews  ;  shall  throw  all  their  religious  ap- 
prehensions into  a  new  channel ;  and  cause 
tears  of  penitential  sorrow  to  start  from  their 
stony  eyes,  confessions  of  unfeigned  faith 
to  issue  from  their  blaspheming  lips. — Yet 
thus  it  will  assuredly  be.  In  the  volume  of 
the  divine  book  it  is  written,  "  They  shall 
look  on  him  whom  they  have  pierced,  and 
mourn."  Zech.  xii.  10.  They  shall  adore 
as  the  Messiah  the  once  despised  Galilean, 
and  fix  all  their  hopes  of  final  felicity  on 
that  very  person  whom  their  fathers  slew 
and  hanged  on  a  tree. 

Amazing  revolution  in  the  religious  world ! 
Yet  this,  together  with  the  destruction  of 
Antichrist,  and  the  illumination  of  the  be- 
nighted Gentiles,  may  pass  for  small  inci- 
dents, compared  with  those  stupendous 
events,  which  will  dignify  and  signalize  the 
closing  scene  of  affairs. 

Then  shall  the  Lord  Jesus  be  manifested 
in  unspeakable  glory,  and  exert  such  acts 
of  omnipotence  as  will  be  the  terror  of  hell, 
the  joy  of  heaven,  the  wonder  of  eternity. 
Then  will  he  put  an  end  to  time,  and  bid 
the  springs  of  nature  cease  to  operate. 
Then  shall  his  tremendous  trumpet  rend 
the  universal  vault,  and  pierce  the  dormi- 
tories of  the  dead.  Then  will  he  "  shake 
the  earth  out  of  its  place,"  Job  ix.  6,  and 
before  his  majestic  presence  the  "  heavens 
shall  flee  away."*     Then  shall,  not  a  nation 


fiC.  To  which  I  beg  leave  to  refer  my  readers  ;  and 
shall  more  than  make  amends  for  the  present  omission, 
by  transcribing  a  passage  from  the"  Night  Thoughts," 
which  presents  us  with  a  magnificent  display  of  this 
great  truth. 

Thou,  by  whom  all  worlds 

Were  made,  and  one  redeem'd  ;  whose  regal  power 

On  more  than  adamantine  basis  fix'd, 

O'er  more,  far  more  than  diadems  and  thrones 

Inviolably  reigns;  beneath  whose  foot. 

And  by  the  mandate  of  whose  awful  nod, 

All  regions,  revolutions,  fortunes,  fiites. 

Of  high,  of  low,  of  mind  and  matter,  roll 

Through  the  short  channels  of  expiring  time. 

Or  shoreless  ocean  of  eternity. 

^'i,Kht  Thuuf;hts,  No.  9. 

•  How  grand  is  the  idea,  when  David  prays,  "  Bow 
thy  heavens,  O  Lord,  and  come  down  :  touch  the 
mountains,  and  they  shall  smoke."  Much  grander  is 
the  image,  when  he  says,  '•  The  spring's  of  waters 
were  seen,  and  the  foundationsof  the  world  weredis- 
covered,  at  thy  chiding,  O  Lord,  .it  the  blast  of  the 
breath  of  thy  displeasure."  Transcendently  and  ini- 
mitably grand  is  this  dcscripti(m,  though  given  us  by 
the  most  plain  and  artless  writer  in  the  world:  "  I 
Saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  him  that  sat  on  it, 
from  whose  ftitc  the  heavens  and  the  earth  tledaway. 


only,  but  multitudes,  multitudes  of  nations, 
"  be  born  in  a  day,"  Isa.  Ix.  8,  yea,  rather,  in 
an  hour,  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye.  All  that  are  asleep  in  the  hcils  of 
death  ;  even  those  who,  perishing  in  tem- 
pests, are  sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  ocean, 
or,  swallowed  up  by  earthquakes,  are  bu- 
ried at  the  centre  of  the  globe — all  shall 
hear  his  voice  ;  and  hearing,  shall  awake  ; 
and  awaking,  shall  come  forth.  Every  hu- 
man body,  though  ages  have  revolved  since 
it  gave  up  the  ghost ;  though  worms  have 
devotn-ed  the  flesh,  and  dissolution  moulder- 
ed the  bones  ;  though  its  parts  have  been 
grinded  by  the  teeth  of  beasts,  or  consum- 
ed by  the  rage  of  fire ;  dissipated  in  view- 
less winds,  or  scattered  over  the  boimdless 
globe  ;  lost  to  our  senses,  and  lost  even  to 
our  imagination — yet  will  every  human 
body  then  be  restored ;  its  limbs  re-as- 
sembled, and  not  an  atom  wanting ;  its 
frame  rebuilt,  and  never  be  demolished 
more. 

Then  shall  the  uinnnnbered  myriads  of 
departed  spirits  return  from  their  separate 
abodes  ;  and,  commissioned  by  liiin  "  who 
is  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  reanimate 
each  his  organized  system.  Then  shall 
Satan  and  his  accomplices,  those  execrable 
and  horrid  criminals,  be  dragged  from  their 
dungeons  of  darkness,  aiul  receive  their 
doom  at  the  Redeemer's  tribunal.  Then 
will  misery  and  happiness,  both  consum- 
mate, and  both  everlasting,  be  awarded  by 
the  Saviour's  sentence.  Then  will  he  con- 
sign over  the  ungodly  world,  and  the  rebel- 
lious angels,  to  the  flames  of  hell,  and  to 
agonies  of  despair.  Then  will  he  invest 
the  righteous  with  the  inheritance  of  hea- 
ven, and  instate  them  in  tlie  fulness  of  joy. 
His  word  is  fate ;  immutability  seals,  and 
eternity  executes,  whatever  he  decrees. 

And  has  this  Jesus,  so  glorious  so  ma- 
jestic, so  adorable — has  he  vouchsafed  to 
take  our  nature,  and  become  our  righteous - 

and  there  was  no  place  found  for  them."     Rev.  xx. 

U. 

In  Virgil's  admired  representation,  Jupiter  hurls 

his  thunder,  and  a  mountain  falls  at  the  stroke  : — 

"  lUe  flagranti 

Aut  Atho,  ant  Rhodopen,  aut  alta  Ceraunia  telo 
Oejicit."  Geoi-g.  1.  33L 

In  Homer's  more  terror-striking  piece,  Neptune 
shakes  the  wide  extended  earth.     The  mountains 
tremble  to  their  centre ;  the  ocean  heaves  its  billows 
and  cities  reel  on  their  foundations ; — 

^———  A  wrap  £vstf9-i  Ylorii'^.aaiv  invade 
Vaia.v  wrii^nin)!,  c^ieov  r   afxata  xx^nva. 

Ka*   xoeu(pai,'i^^uuvTi  '!ToXi;-iXa)  vn%s  /i^eticov 
Iliad  Y.  S]. 

Here  the  son  of  the  eternal  God  appears  only,  and 
all  nature  is  alarmed  ;  nor  heaven  nor  earth  can  keep 
their  standing;  they  flee  away,  like  the  frighted  roc. 
How  grovelling  are  the  loftiest  flights  of  the  Grcci.in 
and  Roman  muse,  comi)arcd  with  this  raagnilicencc 
and  elevation  of  the  prophetic  spirit ! 


374  TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO, 

iK'ss  ?  nvifi  he  made  under  the  law  ?  did  he 
feiifil  all  ifs  demands?  give  perfect  satisfac- 
tion to  the  penal,  and  yield  perfect  ohedi- 
erice  to  the  preceptive?  on  purpose  that 
the  merit  of  all  might  be  made  over  to  us? 
Astonishing  condescension  !  ineffable  grace  ! 
What  thanks  are  due  to  such  infinitely  rich 
goodness  !  What  a  remedy  is  here,  for 
the  impotence  and  guilt  of  fallen  man  ! 
What  a  sure  foundation  of  hope,  and  what 
iin  abundant  source  of  joy,  to  every  one  that 
bciieveth  ! 

It  is  declared  by  the  Oracle  of  God, 
"  That  such  dn  high  Priest  became  us,"  was 
absolutely  necessary  for  our  obnoxious  and 
mined  condition,  "who  is  holy,  harmless, 
iindefiled,  separate  from  sinners — and  made 
higher  than  the  heavens."  Heb.  vii.  26.  It 
ai)j>parK,  1  flatter  myself,  from  the  letter  al- 
ready in  your  hand,  that  Christ  fully  answer- 
ed the  former  character ;  and  from  this  epis- 
tle I  hope  it  will  appear  that  he  is  the  very 
person  described  in  the  latter  clause. 

Estimate  now,  my  dear  friend,  estimate 
if  you  can,  the  glory  and  excellency  of  this 
sublime  Person.  Then  may  you  learn  how 
to  state  the  worth  of  his  righteousnesss,  and 
the  degree  of  affiance  suited  to  his  merits, 
liather  you  will  perceive,  that  his  spotless 
birth,  his  perfectly  obedient  life,  his  exqui- 
sitely bitter  death,  are  a  satisfaction  of  un- 
known dignity;  precious,*  far  beyond  all  the 
graces  of  men,  and  all  the  duties  of  angels  ; 
able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  that  rely  on 
them,  and  come  unto  God  through  them. 

Consonant  to  this  are  the  sentiments  of 
that  penetrating  critic  and  profound  scholar. 
Dr.  Lightfoot,  who,  treating  of  our  Saviour's 
obedience,  says — "  Add  to  all  this,  the  dig- 
nity of  his  person  who  performed  this  obe- 
dience ;  that  he  was  God  as  well  as  man  : 
and  his  obedience  is  infinite ;  such  as  in  its 
validity  subdued  Satan,  and  in  its  all-suf- 
ficiency satisfied  the  justice  of  God.  After 
which,  our  celebrated  author  makes  this  im- 
portant and  delightful  improvement :  "  Think, 
Christian,  what  a  stock  of  obedience  and 
righteousness  here  is  for  thee,  to  answer  and 
satisfy  for  thy  disobedience  and  unrighteous- 
ness, if  thou  become  a  child  of  the  covenant. 
Here  is  enough  for  every  soul  that  comes  to 
liim,  be  they  never  so  many.  I<ike  the  wi- 
dow's oil  in  the  book  of  Kings,  there  is 
enough  and  enough  again,  and  as  long  as  any 
vessel  is  brought  to  receive  it."f 

We  need  not  wonder  that  Gentiles,  who 
are  ignorant  of  the  Redeemer ;  that  Jews, 
who  treat  him  with  contemptuous  scorn  ; 
that  professors  of  religion,  who  deny  his  eter- 

»  This  is  expressed  by  the  sacred  historian  with  an 
energy   whicli  no  translation  can   equal,   t»v    Ti/xrit, 

ga/iX.     Matth.  xxvii.  1). 

t  Lighti'oot's  Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  125U. 


nal  Godhead  ;  place  little,  if  any  confidence 
in  his  righteousness.  But  it  is  strange  that 
Christians,  who  know  the  Saviour,  who 
acknowledge  his  divinity ;  and  believe  him 
to  be  exalted  above  all  blessing  and  praise- 
it  is  exceedingly  strange,  that  they  do  not 
rejoice  in  him,  make  their  boast  of  him,  and 
say,  with  a  becoming  disdain,  of  every  other 
dependence,  "  Get  ye  hence  !"  Isaiah  xxx. 
22. 

Such  an  assemblage  of  divine  perfections 
must  warrant,  must  demand,  the  most  un- 
divided, and  the  most  unbounded  confidence. 
There  never  was,  no,  not  in  all  ages,  nor  in 
all  worlds,  any  thing  greater  or  richer,  moi^e 
dignified  or  exalted,  than  the  obedience  of 
our  Lord.  Nay,  it  is  impossible  to  ima- 
gine what  could  be  so  suited  to  our  wants, 
so  proper  for  our  reliance,  or  so  sure  to  an- 
swer, more  than  answer,  all  our  expecta- 
tions. 

Remember  what  the  apostle  affirms,  ani\ 
you  will  not  wonder  at  my  assertion  ;  "  In 
Him  dvvelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the  God- 
head bodily."  How  comprehensive  and  ex- 
alted is  this  description  I  It  collects  into 
a  point  all  the  rays  of  majesty  and  honour. 
It  expresses  in  a  sentence,  I  say,  not  what- 
ever this  pen  has  written,  but  whatever  of 
dignity  and  excellence  the  Bible  itself  con- 
tains,— "  The  Godhead,"  the  natiu-e  and 
essence  of  the  Deity:  ''the  fulness  of  the 
Godhead,"  unerring  wisdom,  almighty  power, 
and  whatever  the  great  Jehovah  challenges 
as  his  own  :  "  all  the  fulness  ;"  every  ador. 
able  attribute,  in  the  most  ample  measure, 
and  in  the  highest  degree:  All  this  "  dwells," 
not  visits  occasionally,  but  statedly,  invari- 
ably, eternally  resides;  "dwells  in  Christ 
Jesus  bodily,"  with  an  union  inconceivalily 
close  and  intimate  ;  insomuch  that  the  GimI- 
head  inhabiting,  and  the  manhood  inhabited, 
make  but  one  and  the  same  Person. 

Therefore,  adds  the  sacred  disputant,  "  Ye 
are  complete  in  Him,"  Col.  ii-  9,  10.  Never 
was  any  conclusion  more  weighty  in  itself, 
or  founded  on  more  solid  principles.  Ye 
are  not  only  pardoned,  but  reconciled ;  and 
not  only  reconciled,  but  justified ;  nay,  ye 
are — and  what  can  be  said  or  desired  more  ? 
— "  ye  are  complete  :"  And  not  barely  be- 
fore men  or  angels,  but  before  infinite  puri- 
ty, and  omniscience  itself,  "  Ye  are  made,'' 
(amazing  and  charming  truth  !)  "  the  right- 
eousness of  God,"  2  Cor.  v.  21.  in  this  won- 
derful Saviour.  What  a  fountain  is  this,  or 
rather  what  a  sea  of  fathomless  depth,  to 
obliterate  all  sins,  aud  supply  all  wants? 
What  a  mirror  of  God's  stupendous  grace, 
and  ever  to  be  adored  loving-  kindness. 

Here  let  our  meditations  fix,  and  here 
let  all  our  exjiectations  centre.  From  this, 
not  fioni  any  thing  of  our  own,  let  us  derive 
oui    peace,  our  juy,  our  sui)reme  compla- 


LETTER  VIII. 


373 


ccncy.  Into  this  subject  we  can  never  dive 
too  deeply.  Of  this  subject  we  can  never 
think  too  magnificently.  The  righteousness 
of  Christ  is  the  master-pillar,  on  which  our 
eternal  welfare  rests.  Nay,  it  is  the  only 
support  which  preserves  us  from  sinking  in- 
to endless  perdition. 

There  hangs  all  human  hope;  that  nail  supports 
Our  falliiif;  universe. 

This  renders  his  intercession  prevalent. 
He  is  an  advocate,  a  successful  advocate 
with  the  Father.  Why?  Because  he  is 
"  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous."  1  John  ii. 
1. — From  hence  results  his  ability  to  justify. 
"  He  shall  justify  many,"  saith  the  Lord 
Jehovah.  On  what  consideration  ?  Be- 
cause he  "  is  my  righteous  servant."  Isaiah 
liii.  11.  This,  and  no  other,  is  the  merito- 
rious cause  of  our  salvation.  "  Judah  shall 
be  saved  ;"  shall  escape  damnation,  and  in- 
herit glory.  On  what  account?  On  account 
of  "  the  righteous  Branch  raised  up  unto 
David."*  Jer.  xxiii.  5,  G. — Since,  then,  our 
acceptance,  justification,  and  salvation  ;  since 
our  comfort  in  time,  and  our  haj)piness  to 
eternity,  all  depend  upon  the  righteousness 
of  Christ ;  how  should  we  delight  in  con- 
templating its  faultless,  its  matchless,  its 
transcendent  excellency? — Grand  !  all-suf- 
ficient !  in  every  respect  perfect !  Nothing 
equal  to  it,  on  earth,  in  heaven,  throughout 
the  universe !  surpassing  the  enorniity  of 
our  guilt !  surpassing  the  reach  of  our  ima- 
gination !  surpassing  all  that  we  can  cxjiress 
or  conceive  !  being  truly,  properly,  abso- 
lutely divine  ! 

And  is  this  righteousness  mine?  is  this 
righteousness  yours,  Theron?  is  this  right- 
eousness free  for  every  siini»r  ?  Pleasing, 
captivating,  rapturous  thought?  Who  can 
forbear  exulting  and  triumphing  in  this 
boundless,  this  infinite  blessing?  On  such 
an  occasion,  methinks,  some  sallies  of  en- 
thusiasm, or  even  starts  of  tautology,  are 
the  language  of  sensibility,  of  propriety,  of 
nature.  "  Sing,  O  ye  heavens  ;  for  the 
Lord,  the  Lord  himself  hath  done  it."  Our 
justifying  righteousness  is  finished  ;  finished 
by  Jehovah,  sojourning  in  human  clay. 
"  Shout,  ye  lower  parts  of  the  earth  ;  break 
forth  into  singing,  ye  mountains  ;  O  forest, 
and  every  tree  therein.  For  the  Lord  hath 
most  marvellously  redeemed  Jacob,  and  no 
less  illustriously  glorified  himself  in  the  re- 
covery of  Israel."  Isaiah  xliv.  23-  O  for 
the  tongue  of  a  seraph  !  But  even  this  would 
be  defective ;  such  ardour  cold,  and  such 
energy  languid. 


•  I  believe  it  will  beneedlesstoohserve,  that  the  salva- 
tion mentioned  in  this  and  other  passages  of  like  im- 
port, is  not  limited  to  a  temporal  deliverance,  but 
extends  to  a  stale  of  spiritual  and  eternal  happiness. 
The  temporal  is  only  a  subordinate  blessing;  a  kind 
of  a|ipcndage  to  the  other;  somewhat  like  the  halo 
round  the  globe  of  the  moon,  or  that  faint  andsccon- 
<l.iry  range  of  colours  which  freouently  attends  the 
glowuii;  rainbow. 


I  have  done  ;  I  add  no  more  ;  I  leave  it 
— to  some  future  letter  ?  to  some  more  la- 
boured essay  ?  No ;  but  to  the  hynwis  of 
heaven,  and  the  adorations  of  eternity,  to 
supply  the  deficiency  of  my  acknowledg- 
ments. In  the  mean  time,  let  me  entreat 
my  Theron  to  contemplate  oiu'  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  under  that  most  illustrious  character 
described  by  the  prophet,  "  a  Priest  upon 
his  throne,"  Zech.  vi.  13,  dignifying  the  sa- 
cerdotal censer  by  the  regal  diadem  ;  adding 
all  the  honours  of  his  eternal  divinity  to  the 
sacrifice  of  his  bleeding  humanity.  Then, 
I  promise  myself,  you  will  find  it  almost  im- 
possible not  to  adopt  the  emphatical  and 
ardent  protestation  of  the  apostle,  "  God 
forbid  that  I  should  glory,"  that  I  shoulil 
confide,  "save  only  in  the  obedience  and 
the  cross  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord  !" 

When  you  made  the  tour  of  Fiance 
and  Italy,  and,  crossing  the  Alps,  gained 
the  summit  of  some  commanding  ridge  ; 
when  you  looked  round  with  astonishment 
and  delight  on  the  ample  plains,  which, 
crowded  with  cities,  and  adorned  with  pa- 
laces, stretch  their  beauteous  tracts  below  ; 
when  you  surveyed  the  famous  rivers  that 
roll  in  silent  but  shining  dignity,  stating  the 
boundaries  of  kingdoms,  and  wafting  plenty 
through  the  gladdened  nations  ,■  when  you 
shot  your  transported  view  to  the  ocean, 
whose  unmeasurable  flood  meets  the  arch 
of  heaven,  and  terminates  the  landscape 
with  inconceivable  grandeur;  did  yon  then 
choose  to  forego  the  ])leasure  resultnig  from 
such  a  prospect,  in  order  to  gaze  upon  the 
naked  cr:ig  of  some  ailjacent  rock  ;  or  could 
you  turn  your  eyes  froiti  those  magnificent 
objects,  and  fasten  them  with  pleased  atten- 
tion upon  a  shallow  puddle  that  lay  stagnat- 
ing at  your  feet  ? 

You  who  have  beheld  the  scene,  can  ac- 
commodate the  simile  with  peculiar  advan- 
tage. For  which  reason,  I  shall  wave  the 
application,  and  only  beg  leave  to  transcribe 
a  wish  that  is  now  warm  on  my  heart,  and 
is  often  breathed  in  snpjilication  from  my 
lips  :  May  the  Father  of  our  spirits,  and 
the  Fountain  of  wisdom,  give  us  an  en- 
lightened "  understanding  to  know  him  that 
is  true!"  grant  us  the  inestimable  blessing, 
"  that  we  may  be  in  him  that  is  true,  even 
in  his  Son  Jesus  Christ :  For  this  Saviour 
is  the  true  God,  and  that  privilege  is  life 
eternal."     1  John  v.  20. 

My  Theron  needs  no  argument  to  con- 
vince him,  that  such  a  prayer  is   an  act  of 
rational  and  real  friendship — is  the  most  ge- 
nuine and  substantial  proof,  that  I  am 
His  truly  aflectionate 

ASFABIO' 


376 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


LETTER  IX. 

Theron  to  Aspasio. 

Dear  Aspasio, — Your  two  letters  have 
reached  my  hand,  and  I  hope  they  have  not 
missed  my  heart.  I  might  inform  you  what 
pleasure  they  gave  me,  and  how  highly  I 
esteem  them.  But  you  desire  no  such  com- 
pliments ;  you  desire  to  see  me  impressed 
with  the  sentiments,  and  living  under  their 
influence.  This  would  be  the  most  accept 
able  acknowledgment  to  my  Aspasio,  be- 
cause it  would  be  the  most  happy  effect  to 
his  Theron.  May  every  day,  therefore, 
bring  a  fresh  accession  of  such  gratitude  to 
me,  and  of  such  satisfaction  to  you  ! 

To  watch  for  my  soul,  and  pray  for  my 
salvation,  I  am  thoroughly  convinced,  is  the 
truest  instance  of  rational  and  exalted  friend- 
ship. Every  claim  to  that  amiable  charac- 
ter is  defective  and  vain,  if  it  does  not  ex- 
tend to  our  spiritual  interests  and  our  ever- 
lasting welfare.  For  which  reason  I  need 
not  entreat  you  to  continue  and  perpetuate 
this  best  expression  of  social  kindness.  Or, 
if  I  do,  it  is  rather  to  testify  how  much  I 
prize  the  favour,  than  to  prompt  your  affec- 
tionate and  ready  mind. 

Your  last  found  me  at  a  friend's  house, 
which  lies  pretty  near  the  western  ocean. 
Yesterday,  waked  by  the  lark,  and  rising 
with  the  dawn,  I  strolled  into  the  fragrant 
air  and  dewy  fields ;  while,  as  Shakespeare, 
with  his  usual  sprightliness  expresses  him- 
self, 

Jocund  day. 

Stood  tip-toe  on  the  misty  mountain's  top. 

Sweet  was  the  breath  of  morn,  and  sweet 
the  exhalations  of  the  freshened  flowers ; 
grateful  were  the  soft  salutes  of  the  cooling 
zephyrs,  attended  with  the  charm  of  earliest 
birds  ;  delightful  the  sun,  painting  with  his 
orient  beams  the  chambers  of  the  firmament, 
and  unveiling  the  face  of  universal  nature. 

My  mind,  but  little  affected  with  these 
inferior  entertainments,  was  engaged  in  con- 
templating an  object  of  infinitely  superior 
dignity ;  in  contemplating  that  adorable 
Being,  who  raised,  from  nothing  raised,  this 
stupendous  system  of  things,  and  supports, 
with  his  word  supports,  the  magnificent 
frame;  who  (to  speak  in  the  language  of 
his  own  Spirit)  "  openeth  the  eyelids  of  the 
morning,  and  commandeth  the  day-spring 
to  know  its  place;"  Job  xxxviii.  12  ;  com- 
mandeth the  light,  by  its  punctual  and  pleas- 
ing ministrations,  to  draw  aside  the  curtain 
of  darkness,  and  discover  the  skies  shining 
with  glories,  and  disclose  the  earth  bloom- 
ing with  beauties. 

"  Father  of  light  and  life,"  suid  my  trans- 
ported mind, 


Thou  Good  Supreme  I 

O  teach  me  what  is  good  !  teach  me  Thyself.  "* 

Save  me  from  folly,  vanity,  and  vice. 
From  every  low  pursuit !  and  feed  my  soul 
With  fai  th,  with  conscious  peace,  and  virtue  pure. 
Sacred,  substantial,  never-tading bliss. 

Thomson's  Winter. 

Wrapt  in  wonder,  and  lost  in  thought,  I 
rambled  carelessly  along,  till  I  was  insensi- 
bly brought  to  the  shore,  which,  in  these 
parts  is  prodigiously  high  and  strong,  per- 
fectly well  fitted  to  stand  as  an  everlasting 
banier*  against  the  impetuous  stroke  of  con- 
flicting winds,  and  the  ponderous  sweep  of 
dashing  surges.  Not  that  the  omnipotent 
Engineer  has  any  need  of  these  impregna- 
ble ramparts.  Here  it  is  true,  they  inter- 
vene, and  not  oidy  repress  the  rolling  in- . 
vader,  but  speak  the  amazing  majesty  of 
their  Maker.  In  other  places,  all  such  la- 
boured methods  of  fortification  are  laid 
aside.  The  Creator  shows  the  astonished 
world  that  he  is  confined  to  no  expedients, 
but  orders  all  things  "  according  to  the  plea- 
sure of  his  o\ni  wiU."  He  bids  a  low  bank 
of  despicable  sand  receive  and  repel  the 
most  furious  shocks  of  assaulting  seas  ;  and 
"  though  the  waves  thereof  toss  themselves" 
with  incredible  fierceness,  yet  can  they  not 
prevail ;  though  "  they  roar,"  and  seem  to 
menace  universal  destruction,  "  yet  can 
they  not  pass  over,"  Jer.  v.  22,  this  slight- 
est of  mounds. 

A  winding  passage  broke  the  declivity  of 
the  descent,  and  led  me  by  a  gradual  slope 
to  the  bottom.  The  moon  being  in  hef 
last  quarter,  and  the  tide  at  its  greatest  re- 
cess, I  walked  for  a  while,  where  briny 
waves  were  wont  to  flow.  The  ebbing  wa- 
ters had  left  a  vacant  space  several  furlongs 
broad,  equal  in  length  to  a  very  extended 
xista,  smooth  on  its  surface  as  the  most  le- 
vel bowling-green,  and  almost  as  firm  as  the 
best  compacted  causeway.  Insomuch  that 
the  tread  of  a  horse  scarce  impresses  it,  and 
the  waters  of  the  sea  never  penetrate  it.  Ex- 
clusive of  this  wise  contrivance,  the  search- 
ing waves  would  insinuate  themselves  into 
the  heart  of  the  earth :  the  earth  itself 
would  be  hollow  as  a  honey-comb,  or  bibu- 
lous as  a  sponge ;  and  the  sea,  soaking  by 
degrees  through  all  its  cavities,  would  in 
process  of  time  forsake  its  bed,  and  mingle 
with  the  plains  and  mountains.  But  this 
closely  cemented  or  glutinous  kind  of  pave- 
ment, is  like  claying  the  bottom  of  the  uni- 
versal canal ;  so  that  the  returning  tides 
consolidate,  rather  than  perforate  its  sub- 
stance, and  prevent  the  sun  from  cleaving  it 


»  These,  doubtless,  "  are  the  doors  and  the  bars," 
which  the  Almighty  mentions  in  the  course  of  his 
awful  interrogatories  to  Job :  the  massy  doors,  which 
can  never  be  forced  :  the  solid  bars,  which  can  never 
be  broke;  and,  I  may  add,  the  conspicuous  columns 
on  which  his  Providence  has  inscribed  that  sovereign 
mandate,  '•  Ne  plus  ultra."  Or,  as  the  prohibition 
runs  in  his  own  majestic  words,  "  Hitherto  shall  thou 
go,  but  no  farther."  Job  xxxviii.  10. 


lettl:r  IX. 


377 


with  chinks.  Such,  I  hope,  will  be  the 
case  with  this  soul  of  mine,  amid  tiie  temj)- 
tations  that  heset  me.  Beset  me  they  do, 
they  will ;  but  may  they  never  win  upon 
my  affections,  nor  gain  admittance  into  my 
heart !  Let  them  make  me  humble,  and 
keep  me  vigilant ;  teach  me  to  walk  closely 
with  my  God,  and  urge  me  to  an  incessant 
dependaiice  on  Christ-  Then,  instead  of 
being  niuious,  tiiey  may  become  advanta- 
geous ;  and  instead  of  shattering,  will  only 
cleanse  the  rock  on  which  they  dash. 

The  mighty  waters,  restless  even  in  their 
utmost  tranquillity,  with  a'solemn  but  placid 
murmur  struck  my  ear.  The  billows  some- 
times advancing  to  kiss  the  sand,  sometimes 
drawing  back  their  curly  heads  into  the 
deep,  whitened  at  their  extremities  into  an 
agreeable  foam ;  which,  \\ith  the  reilexive 
representation  of  the  azure  canopy,  formed 
the  appearance  of  a  most  spacious  floating 
mantle,  tinged  with  a  beautiful  blue,  and 
edged  with  fringes  of  silver.  Dignity  and 
elegance,  I  find,  are  the  inseparable  charac- 
teristics of  the  Creator's  workmanship  ;  as 
comfort  and  happiness,  I  sometimes  per- 
ceive, are  the  very  spirit  of  his  gospel,  and 
the  genuine  produce  of  its  commands. 

On  one  side,  the  Atlantic  main  rolled  its 
surges  from  world  to  world — Immense,  im- 
mense diffusion  of  waters  !  What  a  spectacle 
of  magnificence  and  terror  !  What  an  irri- 
sistible  incitement  to  reverence  and  awe  ! 
How  it  fills  the  mind  and  amazes  the  ima- 
gination !  It  is  the  grandest  and  most  august 
object  under  the  whole  heavens.  It  reminds 
me  of  that  apocalyptic  vision  which  .John, 
the  enraptured  seer,  beheld  !  "  As  it  were 
a  great  mountain  burning  with  fire,  was  cast 
into  the  sea,  and  the  third  part  of  the  sea 
became  blood,  and  the  third  part  of  the  crea- 
tures which  were  in  the  sea,  and  had  life, 
died  ;  and  the  third  part  of  the  ships  were 
destroyed,"  Rev.  viii.  8,  9.  I  have  not  pe- 
netration enough  to  discover  the  spiritual 
meaning  of  this  passage  ;  but  I  discern  a 
most  dreadful  grandeur  in  its  plain  and  liter- 
al sense.  If  we  consider  the  wonderful  com- 
])ass  and  the  terrible  force  of  such  an  enor- 
mous mass  of  fire  :  if  we  consider  its  hor- 
rible and  destructive  effects  on  such  a  vast 
body  of  waters  as  the  third  part  of  the 
ocean  ;  how  tremendous  and  astonishing  is 
the  idea  !  Surely  nothing  but  divine  inspir- 
ation could  suggest  these  images ;  as  none 
but  an  almighty  Being  can  execute  this  ven- 
geance !  Who  would  not  fear  an  eternal 
King,  that  has  such  weapons,  and  such  ar- 
tillery reserved  against  the  day  of  battle  and 
war?  Job  xxxviii.  '23. 

Spacious  as  the  sea  is,  God  has  provided 
a  garment  to  cover  it.     Profound  as  the  sea 
is,  (irod  has  prepared  swaddling-bands  to  in 
wrap  it.       Ungovernable  as  it  may  seem  to 
us,  he  overrules  it  with  as  much  ease  as  the 


nurse  manages  a  new  born  infant,  Job 
xxxviii.  8,  9.  An  infant  it  is  before  al- 
mighty power,  and  to  an  infant  it  is  com- 
pared by  Jehovah  himself:  though,  to  our 
apprehension,  it  raves  like  u  stupendous 
madman.  But  if  he  command,  it  opens  a 
peaceful  bosom,  and  receives  his  people. 
It  smooths  the  way  for  their  passage,  and 
stands  as  a  bulwark  for  their  defence.  They 
march  "  through  the  midst  of  the  sea  ii])on 
dry  ground,  and  the  waters  are  a  wall  unto 
them  on  their  right  hand  and  on  their  left," 
Exod.  xiv.  22.  If  he  reverses  his  mandate, 
they  drive  down  with  an  irresistible  sweep, 
upon  the  hosts  of  Pharaoh,  and  ovenvhehn 
the  chariots  and  horses  of  Egypt.  They 
pour  confusion  upon  arrogance,*  and  disajj- 
point  the  designs  of  persecution  and  cruel- 
ty. If  he  says  "  Be  still,"  the  bellowing 
surges  are  hushed,  and  the  gentlest  lamb  is 
not  so  quiet.  If  he  says,  "  Destroy,"  even 
the  quiescent  waters  kindle  into  rage  ; 
they  rise  in  their  Maker's  cause,  and  ten 
thousand  lions,  stung  with  hunger  and  rush- 
ing upon  their  prey,  are  not  so  fierce. 
When  he  bids  them  execute  any  other  com- 
mission, the  horse  broke  to  the  bit,  the 
spaniel  disciplined  to  the  signal,  are  not  half 
so  dutiful  and  obsequious.  And  shall  our 
passions  be  more  wild  than  the  winds,  more 
turbulent  than  the  billows  ?  Forbid  it,  al- 
mighty Lord  !  "  Thou  that  rulest  the  rag- 
ing of  the  sea,  and  the  noise  of  his  waves, 
restrain,  subdue,  and  calm  the  madness  of 
the  people." 

The  eye  travels  hard :  It  wanders  over  a 
vast,  vast  length  of  fluctuating  plains.  It 
reaches  the  limits  of  the  hemisphere  where 
skies  and  waves  seem  to  mingle.  Yet  it 
has  scarce  made  an  entry  upon  the  world  of 
waters.  What  I  here  discern,  is  no  more 
than  the  skirts  of  the  great  and  wide  sea. 
Tracts  incomparably  broader  are  still  behind ; 
and  tracts  of  unbounded  extent  are  behind 
even  those.  Great  then,  O  my  soul,  incon- 
ceivably great,  is  that  adored  and  glorious 
sovereign,  who  sitteth  upon  this  flood  as 
upon  a  throne  !  Psal.  xxix.  10  ;  nay,  who 
holds  it,  diffused  as  it  is  from  pole  to  pole,  in 
the  hollow  of  his  hand  ;  and  before  whom, 


•  Arroganc<^ — This  is  described  with  exquisite  de- 
licacy, in  the  lliTnviKiav,  or  triumphant  song  of  Mo- 
ses. "  The  enemy  said,  1  will  pursue,  I  will  overtake, 
I  will  divide  the  spoil,  my  lust  shall  be  satisfied  upon 
them,  1  will  draw  my  sword,  mine  hand  shall  destroy 
them."  What  swelling  words  of  vanity  are  here  !^ 
The  very  spirit  of  a  Thraso  brcatlus  in  every  syllable 
of  this  beautiful  jirosopopa-ia.  Never  was  the  lan- 
iJuage  of  bluster,  ferocity,  and  rhodomontade,  so  fine- 
ly niimickcd.  How  noble  is  the  turn,  and  how  exalt- 
ed the  sentiment  which  follows  !  "  Thou  didst  blow 
with  thy  wind,  the  sea  covered  them,  they  sank  as 
lead  in  the  mighty  waters."  The  r.od  of  Israel  need 
not  summon  all  his  no'ver,  or  level  the  right-aimin;" 
thunderbolts  :  he  only  blows  with  his  winds,  and  the 
gre.1t  mountain  breaks  like  a  bubble.  All  tliisiiiso- 
Iciit  and  formidable  p.aradc  is  iiuashcd  :  sinks  uito  no- 
thnig,  expires  in  shame  and  rv.in.  Kxod.  w.'J.  lo. 


B78 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


in  all  its  prodigious  dimensions,  it  is  but  as 
the  drop  of  a  bucket.  How  shall  reptiles 
of  the  ground  sink  low  enough  in  their  own 
apprehensions  ?  What  humiliation  can  be 
sufficiently  deep  for  sinful  mortals  before 
this  high  and  holy  One  !  Yet  how  may  they 
rise  on  the  wings  of  hope  !  how  may  they 
soar  on  the  pinions  of  faith  !  when,  in  the 
language  of  his  prophet,  and  in  his  own 
Son's  name,  they  thus  address  the  everlast- 
ing God.  "  Awake !  Awake!  put  on  strength, 
O  arm  of  the  Lord  !  awake  for  our  succour 
and  security,  as  in  the  ancient  days,  in  the 
generations  of  old.  Art  thou  not  it  that  hath 
cut  Rahab,  and  wounded  the  dragon  ?  Art 
thou  not  it  which  hath  dried  the  sea,  the 
waters  of  the  great  deep  ?  that  hath  made 
the  depths  of  the  sea  a  way  for  the  ransom- 
ed to  pass  over?  Isa.  li.  9,  10. 

How  grand,  surprisingly  griind  and  majes- 
tic are  the  works  as  well  as  the  attributes  of 
an  omnipotent  Being  !  What  are  all  the  ca- 
nals in  all  the  countries  of  the  earth  com- 
pared with  this  immense  reservatory  !  What 
are  all  the  superb  edifices  erected  by  royal 
munificence,  compared  with  yonder  concave 
of  the  skies  !  And  what  are  the  most  pom- 
pous illuminations  of  theatres  and  triumph- 
ant cities,  compared  with  the  resplendent 
source  of  day  !  They  are  a  spark,  an  atom, 
a  drop. — Nay,  in  every  spark,  and  atom,  and 
drop,  which  proceeds  from  the  hand  of  the 
Almighty,  thereis  the  manifestation  of  a  wis- 
dom and  a  power  absolutely  incomprehen- 
sible. 

Let  us  examine  a  single  drop  of  water,  the 
very  least  quantity  that  the  eye  can  discern  ; 
only  so  much  as  will  just  adhere  to  the  point 
of  a  needle.  In  this  almost  imperceptible 
speck,  a  famous  philosopher  computes  no 
less  than  thirteen  thousand  globules.  Amaz- 
ing to  conceive  !  impossible  to  explicate  ! — 
If,  then,  in  so  small  a  speck,  abundantly 
more  than  ten  thousand  globules  exist,  what 
myriads  of  myriads  must  tloat  in  the  unmea- 
sured extent  of  the  ocean  ! — Let  the  ablest 
arithmetician  try  to  comprehend  in  his  mind, 
not  tiie  internal  constitution,  but  only  the 
number  of  these  fluid  particles.  As  well 
may  he  grasp  the  winds  in  his  fist,  or  mete 
out  the  universe  with  his  span,  as  execute 
the  task.  If,  then,  we  are  utterly  unable  to 
number  (which  is  the  most  superficial  of 
all  researches)  even  the  most  common 
works  of  the  great  Jehovah  ;  how  can  we 
protend  to  lay  open  the  secrets,  and  pene- 
trate the  recesses  of  his  infinite  mind  !  How 
can  we  pretend  to  investigate  the  whole  pro- 
cess, and  solve  all  the  difficulties  of  that 
highest  and  deepest  of  the  divine  schemes, 
redemption  ! 

I  have  sometimes  been  offended,  I  must 
confess,  when  you  have  eidarged  upon  the 
mysterious  truths  of  Christianity.  But  I 
perceive  the  beam  was  in  my  own  eye,  when 


I  fancied  the  mote  was  in  my  friend's.  Is 
there,  in  every  ray  of  light,  and  in  every  par- 
ticle of  matter,  a  depth  of  contrivance  un- 
fathomable by  the  line  of  any  human  under- 
standing? And  shall  there  be  nothing  abstruse 
or  profound,  nothing  but  what  is  level  to 
our  scanty  apprehensions,  in  the  "great 
things,"  Hos.  viii.  12,  of  God's  law,  and  the 
"glorious  things"  Acts.  ii.  11,  of  his  gospel? 
To  expect  this  is  just  as  wise  in  itself,  and 
just  as  congruous  to  nature,  as  to  expect  a 
sea,  whose  cavities  might  have  been  digged 
by  our  spade; — a  sky,  whose  arches  are  mea- 
surable by  our  compass  ; — a  sun,  whose  orb 
may  be  included  in  our  lanterns. 

When,  therefore,  I  read  of  One  uncreat- 
ed and  eternal  Being,  subsisting  in  Three 
divine  Persons  ;  when  I  hear  of  an  infinite- 
ly pure  and  perfect  God,  made  flesh  for  the 
redemption  of  sinful  meii ;  when  I  meditate 
upon  the  righteous  and  universal  Judge,  recon- 
ciling the  world  unto  himself  by  the  dea^^h 
of  his  own  Son ;  when  a  thousand  curious 
and  inquisitive  thoughts  are  ready  to  arise 
on  the  occasion  :  I  will  bid  them  first  sound 
the  depths  of  a  single  drop,  and  then  apjdy 
their  pliunmet  to  the  boundless  ocean.  This 
I  am  very  sure,  is  not  weak  credulity,  nor 
wild  enthusiasm  ;  but  the  maturest  dictate 
of  reason,  and  the  veiy  precision  of  truth. 
Let  then  the  Great  Creator  make  that  su- 
blime declaration  :  "  As  the  heavens  are 
higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  my  ways  than 
your  ways,  and  my  thoughts  than  your 
thoughts,"  Isa.  Iv.  9.  Let  every  himian  crea- 
ture add  that  humble  acknowledgment,  "  O 
the  depths  of  the  riches,  both  of  the  wis- 
dom and  knowledge  of  God  !  Howiuisearch- 
able  are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  jiast 
finding  out !"  Rom.  xi.  33;  and  not  devotion 
only, but  reason  and  truth  will  say  "  Amen" 
to  both. 

You  see,  Aspasio,  how  I  am  trying  to 
adopt  your  spirit.  You  will  obser\'e  the 
Moiling  scholar,  though  not  the  great  profi- 
cient. But  stay  !  Is  this  right  ?  to  divert 
from  such  commanding  subjects,  and  take 
notice  of  mere  punctilios  ?  My  friend  may 
spare  his  frowns  :  I  am  surprised  and  angry 
at  myself.  Away  with  the  little  arts  of 
self-recommendation.  Self  should  be  for- 
got, should  be  swallowed  up  and  lost  in 
devout  astonishment,  when  we  are  viewing 
the  magnificence,  and  meditating  on  the 
wonders  of  creation. 

Behind  me,  and  far  off  to  the  north,  Cam- 
bria's dusky  coasts  just,  and  but  just  emerg- 
ed. Lost  were  all  her  woods  and  moun- 
tains. Instead  of  ornamented  towns  and 
cultivated  plains,  a  confused  mist,  or  a  low- 
hung  cloud,  seemed  to  hover  on  the  ocean's 
remotest  brim.  Behind  me  !  Remembrance 
is  roused  at  the  expression,  and  conscience 
sharpens  her  sting.  Ah!  how  often,  and 
how  long  have  I  treated  in  this  very  man- 


LETTER  IX. 


37a 


er,  the  noblest  scenes,  and  the  sulAimest 
joys !  have  turned  my  back — ungrateful 
and  besotted  creature  ! — upon  the  h.eavenly 
countiy,  and  wandered  from  the  regions  of 
iiitinite  delight !  Therefore  now  they  ap- 
pear dim.  I  have  scarcely  a  glimpse  of 
tlieir  transcendent  excellencies.  Or  if  I 
see  them  by  faith,  it  is  with  freqnent  inter- 
missions, and  much  obscurity.  Turn  me, 
()  thou  God  of  my  salvation,  turn  me  from 
l)tn-suing  phantoms,  and  attach  me  to  thy 
blessed  self.  Let  me  henceforth  steer  an 
invariable  course  to  Emmanuel's  kingdom. 
May  its  treasures,  as  I  advance,  open  to 
my  view,  and  its  glories  brighten  in  my  eye. 
()  !  may  some  odours,  better,  far  better, 
than  Sabcean  spicy  odours,*  exhale  from  the 
delectable  hills  and  the  celestial  shores  ! — 
liut  chiefly,  thou  eternal  Spirit,  breathe 
upon  my  soul,  both  by  thy  convincing  and 
comforting  influences  !  nor  ever  cease  to 
swell  my  sails,  and  speed  my  progress,  till 
I  arrive  at  "  the  land  that  is  very  far  off, 
and  see  the  King,"  the  King  of  grace  and 
of  glory,  "  in  all  his  ineffable  beauty."  Isa. 
xxxiii.  17. 

On  my  left  hand,  a  range  of  mountain- 
ous cliifs  rose  in  a  perpendicular  direction. 
The  huge  pile  extended,  as  far  as  the  sight 
could  discern,  its  black  boundaries.  Here 
bending  inwards  to  the  land  ;  there  bellying 
out  into  the  deep;  everywhere  i)rojectinga 
slinde  several  leagues  across  the  ocean. 

The  height  of  these  clifl^s  so  i)rodigious, 
tliat  eveiy  human  creature  who  comes  near 
the  summit  starts  back  terrified  and  aghast. 
Oidy  a  few  straggling  goats  venture  to  graze 
on  the  top  ;  and  these,  to  a  person  walking 
below,  appear  but  as  specks  of  moving 
white  ;  while  the  sea-mews,  that  winnow 
the  air  about  the  middle  steep,  look  like 
v.inged  animalcules  pursuing  their  little 
spijits  in  a  different  region.  The  aspect 
of  these  cliffs,  so  wild  and  horrid,  it  is  im- 
}!c)ssible  to  behold  th(jin  without  a  shivering 
dread.  The  spectator  is  apt  to  imagine, 
that  nature  had  formerly  suffered  some  vio- 
lent convulsions,  or  been  shattered  by  the 
flaming  bolts,  and  that  these  are  the  dis- 
nu'mbered  remains  of  the  dreadfid  stroke ; 
the  ruins,  not  of  Persepolis  or  Palmyra, 
but  of  the  world  ! 

Amazing  !  What  adventurous  daring 
creature  is  yonder  gathering  samphire  from 
the  cavities  of  the  rocks  !  He  has  let  him- 
self down  several  fathoms  beneath  the 
black   and    dizzy    summit.       He    gleans    a 


*  Alluding  to  these  lines  in  Milton  ! 

As  when  to  them  who  sail 

Dpyond  the  fape  of  Hope,  ami  now  arc  jiast 
IMnsamliic,  (ifi'at  sea  north-east  winds  blow 
S,\l):oan  odour  I'mm  the  suiey  shore 
01'  Arajjy  the  lilc  ss'd.  aiicl  ninnv  a  league 
(.'lieei'd      wiUi  tlie  grateful  smell  old  ocean  smiles. 
Xiui/A-  IV.  1.  Ijj. 


poor  livelihood,  from  the  edges  of  danger 
shall  I  say  ?  rather,  from  the  jaws  of  death, 
1  cannot  discern  the  rope  to  whit-h  he 
clings.  He  seems  to  be  suspended  over 
the  tremendous  precipice  by  a  thread,  by  a 
hair,  by  nothing.  —  I  will  look  no  longer. 
The  very  sight  chills  my  veins.  While  I 
view  his  perilous  elevation,  I  can  thiidc  of 
nothing  but  a  headlong  downfall  and  frac- 
tured bones ;  of  brains  left  to  reek  on  the 
pointed  crags,  and  blood  streaming  on  the 
discoloured  beach. 

Suppose  (if  the  mind  can  bear  so  shock- 
ing a  su])position)  some  poor  wretch,  ex- 
posed on  the  brow  of  this  stupendous  j)ro- 
montory;  without  any  support  for  his  feet; 
and  cleaving  only  to  a  weak  slender  shrub, 
which  but  just  adheres  to  the  interstices 
of  the  rock  :  what  tumidtuous  throbbings 
seize  his  breast !  Mhat  a  dying  paleness  in- 
vades his  cheeks  !  and  what  agonies  of  fear 
rend  his  heart,  as  he  hangs  projecting  over 
the  ragged  precipice  ;  and  surveys  the  ocean, 
deep,  wondrous  deep,  below  !  The  bough 
gives  way.  His  only  hope  fails.  It  yields 
more  and  more  to  his  weight.  Good  hea- 
vens !  he  sinks  !  he  sinks  ! — O  !  for  some 
friendly  hand,  to  snatch  him  from  perishing ! 
iMillions,  millions  of  gold,  were  the  cheap 
purchase  of  such  a  mercy.  There  was  a 
time,  my  soul,  when  thou  wast  in  a  situa- 
tion, equally,  shall  I  say  ?  infinitely  more 
dangerous  ;  tottering,  not  only  on  the  verge 
of  life,  but  on  the  very  brink  of  hell.  l\e- 
member  that  compassionate  arm,  which  was 
stretched  out,  in  the  very  article  of  need, 
to  rescue  thee  from  imminent  and  everlast- 
ing perdition.  Never  forget  that  gracious 
voice  which  said,  in  accents  sweeter  than 
the  music  of  the  seraphic  choir,  "  Deliver 
him  from  going  down  into  the  pit.  Let 
his  health  be  restored,  and  his  day  of  grace 
be  prolonged." 

In  some  places,  the  hideous  ruins  not 
only  tower  to  the  skies,  but  lean  over  the 
strand.  Prominent  and  frightfidly  pendu- 
lous, they  nod  horror,  and  threaten  destruc- 
tion on  all  below.  A  person  congratidates 
himself  when  he  has  got  clear  of  the  bend- 
ing precipice,  and  can  hardly  forbear  think- 
ing that  the  enormous  load  is  withheld  by 
some  unseen  hand,  till  the  execrable  wretch, 
doomed  to  a  most  astonishing  vengeance,  is 
come  within  reach  of  the  blow.  And  truly, 
if  he  had  the  strength  of  the  elej)haiit,  or 
the  firmness  of  the  behemoth,  this  must 
grind  hhn  to  powder,  or  even  crush  him  into 
atoms. 

How  awful  to  consider,  that  there  is  a 
day  coming,  when  wicked  potentates  ana 
haughty  monarchs  will  beg  of  yonder  seas 
to  yawn  coinjjassionately  deep,  and  hide 
them  in  their  darkest  abysses — hide  them 
from  the  piercing  eye  and  avenging  sword 
of  inflexible  justice ;   That  there  is  a  day 


380 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


coming,  when  the  soft  voluptuary,  the  wan- 
ton beauty,  and  all  the  ungodly  of  the  earth, 
will  beseech  these  tremendous  ridges,  with 
all  their  unsupportable  burden  of  craggy 
rocks,  to  rush  down  upon  their  guilty  heads  ! 
Rev.  iv.  15,  16,  if  by  this  means  they  may 
be  screened  from  the  infinitely  more  dreaded 
weight  of  divine  indignation. 

Vain  are  their  cries  ;  and  vainer  still 
would  be  their  refuge,  should  their  passion- 
ate lequests  be  granted.  Can  floods  con- 
ceal tlie  impious  \vretches,  when  the  caverns 
of  the  ocean  shall  be  laid  bare,  and  the 
foundations  of  the  world  be  discovered  ? 
Can  rocks  secrete  an  obnoxious  rebel,  when 
rocks,  with  all  their  marble  quarries  and 
adama!itine  entrails,  shall  dissolve  like  melt- 
ing wax?  when  hills,  that  plunge  their  roots 
to  the  centre,  and  lose  their  towering  heads 
in  air,  shall  start  from  their  affrighted  base,* 
and  flee  away  like  a  withered  leaf?  Good 
God  !  t  what  racking  anguish  must  they  feel ! 
what  inexpressibly  severer  torment  must 
they  fear !  who  can  implore,  ardently  im- 
plore as  a  most  desirable  favour,  what  ima- 
gination itself  shudders  to  conceive. 

In  some  places,  these  mountainous  decli- 
vities lift  their  brow  aloft,  plant  their  basis 
deep,  and,  instead  of  portending  a  fall,  defy 
the  fury  of  the  most  impetuous  elements. 


*  This  brings  to  our  remembrance  a  most  sublime 
description  of  tlie  divine  power,  which  arises  in  a 
beautiful  climax,  and  termmates  in  this  grand  idea: 
"  The  voice  of  the  Lord  is  mighty  in  operation,  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  is  a  glorious  voice.  The  voice  of 
the  Lord  breaketh  the  cedars;  yea  the  Lordbreaketh 
the  cedars  of  Lebanon.  He  maketh  them  also  to  skip 
like  a  calf ;  Lebanon  and  Sirion  like  a  young  unicorn." 
Psalm  xxix.  4 — 6. 

The  voice  of  the  Lordismightv  in  operation.  This 
is  the  general  proposition,  which,  in  the  following 
sentences,  we  see  most  magnificently  illustrated.  The 
voice  of  the  Lord  breaketh  the  cedars,  when  he  speaKs 
in  thunder,  and  bids  the  lightning  execute  his  orders, 
the  trees,  the  cedar  trees,  those  sturdiest  productions 
of  the  earth,  are  shivered  to  pieces.  Yea,  the  Lord 
breaketh  the  cedars  of  Lebanon,  which  forstateliness 
and  strength,  surpass  the  oaks  of  the  forest,  surpass 
every  tree  of  the  field,  almost  as  much  as  the  oak  ex- 
ceeds a  shrub.  It  is  a  small  thing  with  Jehovah,  to 
rend  the  trunks,  to  tear  up  the  roots,  and  make  those 
massy  bodies  skip  like  a  calf,  even  Lebanon  and 
Sirion,  the  mountains  on  which  they  grow,  tremble 
before  their  God.  They  are  thrown  into  strange 
commotions;  they  are  ready  to  spring  from  then 
foundations;  and  with  all  their  load  of  woods  and 
rocks,  appear  like  some  affrighted  or  some  sportive 
animal,  tnAt  starts  with  horror,  or  leaps  with  exulta- 
tion. 

\  Good'Cod! — This  exclamation  is  introduced  on 
a  very  serious  occasion,  and  used  with  an  apparent 
air  of  reverence.  Under  which  circumstances,  per- 
liaps,  it  may  be  sometimes  allowable,  and  not  dishon- 
ourable to  the  divine  Majesty.  But  when  it  is  ad- 
mitted into  ordinary  conversation,  on  trifling  occur- 
rences, and  with  a  levity  of  temper,  it  is  itself  a  very 
freat  offence,  and  discovers  a  very  irreligious  spirit, 
t  is  so  great  an  offence,  that  the  God  of  heaven  and 
earth  declares  himself  the  avenger  of  all  such  trans- 
gressors. He  will  not  hold  them  guiltless,  or  he  will 
assuredly  punish  them.  And  if  God  condemn,  who 
shall  acquit?  If  he  will  punish,  who  can  deliver  from  his 
hand  ?  It  discovers  a  very  irreligious  spirit ;  is  a  most 
dangerous  symptom,  somewhat  like  a  plague  spot  on 
the  conversation.  It  shows  that  there  is  no  saving 
health,  no  life  of  God  in  thesoul.  Was  there  any  sen- 
sibility in  the  conscience,  any  grace  in.  the  heart,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  treat  so  wantonly  and  so  pre- 
sumptuously that  glorious  and  fearful  name,  the  Lord 
thy  God.     Deut;  xxviii.  uH. 


Firmly  consolidated,  and  st«»dfii6tly  esta- 
blished, they  have  withstood  the  united,  the 
repeated  assaults  of  winds  and  waves, 
through  a  long  series  of  revolving  ages. 
The  sacred  writers,  I  observe,  select  almost 
all  the  striking  images  which  the  whole  crea- 
tion affords,  in  order  to  communicate  their 
heavenly  ideas  with  the  greatest  advantage. 
Isaiah,  describing  the  security  of  the  right- 
eous, takes  his  comparison  from  the  grand 
spectacle  before  my  eyes  :  "  He  shall  dwell 
on  high  ;  his  place  of  defence  shall  be  the 
munitions  of  rocks,"  Isaiah  xxxiii.  16,  inac- 
cessible as  those  lofty  ridges,  immoveable 
as  their  everlasting  foundations. 

Should  it  be  asked,  what  these  munitions 
of  rocks  may  signify  ?  I  find  two  places 
of  refuge  and  safeguard  pointed  out  in  scrip- 
ture ;  to  either  of  which,  I  believe,  the  me- 
taphor is  applicable.  "  He  had  horns," 
says  one  of  the  divine  pindarics,  "  coming 
out  of  his  hand ;  there  was  the  hiding  of  his 
power,*  Hab.  iii.  5.  Uncontrollable  and 
omnipotent  power  was  lodged  in  the  great 
Jehovah's  hand  ;  and  this  was  the  sure  de- 
fence, this  the  impregnable  garrison,  for  all 
his  people.  The  church  of  Christ  is  said 
to  be  "in  the  clefts  of  the  rock,f  Cant.  ii. 
14  ;  that  "  spiritual  rock,"  of  which  the  Is- 
raelites drank  in  the  wilderness  ;  whose  sa« 
cred  clefts  «'ere  opened  when  the  bloody 
spear  tore  up  the  Redeemer's  side,  and  cut 
a  wide  and  deadly  passage  to  his  heart. 
Sin-ely,  "  the  inhabitants  of  this  Rock  have 
reason  to  sing,  Isa.  xlii.  1 1 .  What  should 
disquiet  them  ?  Who  can  destroy  them  ? 
Why  should  not  the  voice  of  joy  be  in  their 
dwellings,  and  that  hymn  of  holy  triumph 
in  their  mouths,  "  We  have  a  strong  city. 
Salvation  hath    God    appointed,    salvation 


*  Horns  were  an  emblem  of  strength.  A  horn  of 
salvation  is  put  for  a  mighty  and  effectual  salvation, 
Luke  ii.  (!!).  Thou  hast  heard  me  from  among  the 
horns  of  the  unicorns ;  thou  hast  rescued  me  from  the 
most  potent  and  formidable  enemies,  Psal.  xxii.  21. 
Here  the  word  seems  to  denote  thatpower  of  .Jehovah, 
to  which  nothing  is  impossible,  and  more  than  seems, 
if  we  consult  the  next  clause.  There  was  the  hiding 
of  his  power ;  or,  as  it  may  be  rendered,  "  his  power- 
ful hiding,"  a  most  secure  refuge,  a  sanctuary  abso- 
lutely inviolable.  I  have  accommodated  this  passage 
to  a  different  sense,  See  Meditations.  But  the  true  sig- 
nification, most  suitable  to  thecontext,  and  most  sub- 
servient to  the  prophet's  design,  is,  I  apprehend,  given 
by  Theron.  It  is  something  like  an  exalted  sentiment 
in  the  Night  Thoughts,  which,  with  a  small  altera- 
tion, may  serve  as  a  paraphrase  on  the  text : 
iAnd  nature's  shield  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 
A  Christian's  shield  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 

f  Should  the  reader  have  an  inclination  to  see  this 
sacred,  but  mysterious  book  explained,  I  would  refer 
him  to  Dr  Gill's  Exposition  of  the  t:anticlcs:  which 
has  such  a  copious  vein  of  sanctified  invention  run- 
ning through  it,  and  is  interspersed  with  such  a  variety 
of  delicate  and  brilliant  images,  as  cannot  but  highly 
entertain  a  curious  mind;  which  presents  usalsowith 
such  rich  and  charming  displays  of  the  glory  of  Christ's 
person,  the  freeness  of  his  grace  to  sinners,  and  the 
tenderness  of  his  love  to  the  church,  as  cannot  but  ad- 
minister the  most  exquisite  delight  to  the  believing 
soul.  Considered  in  both  these  views,  I  think  the 
work  resembles  the  paradisaical  garden  described  by 
Milton,  in  which 

Blossoms  and  fruits  at  once  of  golden  hue. 
.^^>eaI'd  with  gay  enamell'd  colours  niix'd. 


LETTER  IX. 


881 


itself  ""for  Willis  and  I  mlwarks,"  Isa.  xxvi.  1. 
Happy  should  I  think  myscdf,  if  I  was  in- 
terested in  this  Saviour,  and  established  on 
this  Kock. 

Yonder,  on  the  summit  of  the  most  con- 
spicious  cliff,  is  erected  a  grand  and  stately 
pile.  At  the  top,  my  glass  discovers  a  su- 
perb lantern  ;  at  the  foot,  are  the  huts  of 
fishermen,  surrounded  with  various  sorts  of 
nets.  It  is,  I  suppose,  a  light-house  ;  in- 
tended to  apprise  the  sailor  of  devouring 
gulfs,  and  destructive  shoals  ;  or  else  to 
conduct  him  into  a  safe  road,  and  secure 
harbour. 

Both  the  situation  and  design  of  the 
building  read  me  a  lesson  ;  the  one  of  awful 
admonition,  the  other  of  comfortable  in- 
struction— Comfortable  instruction  :  How 
massy  and  ponderous  is  the  edifice !  yet 
there  is  not  the  least  reason  to  be  appre- 
hensive of  a  failure  in  the  foundation.  Was 
the  structure  ten  thousand  times  larger,  the 
solid  rock  would  support  it  with  the  utmost 
ease,  and  the  utmost  steadiness.  Such  is 
Christ,  such  are  his  merits,  such  his  glorious 
righteousness,  to  tiiose  wise  and  blessed  souls, 
who  rest  all  the  weight  of  their  everlasting 
interests  on  him  alone.  Such,  did  I  say? 
Much  surei'.  For  "  the  mountains  may  de- 
part, and  the  hills  may  be  removed,  Isa- 
liv,  10 ;  but  this  divine  basis  can  never 
sink,  can  never  be  shaken — Awful  admo- 
nition ;  For  it  reciils  to  my  memory  that 
alarming  yet  welcome  text,*  which  you  styled 
the  spiritual  light-house ;  which  has  been 
as  serviceable  to  my  distressed  mind  and  be- 
wildered thoughts,  as  such  an  illuminated 
watch-tower  to  the  wandering  and  benight- 
ed mariner.  May  I  often  view  it ;  ever  at- 
tend to  its  faithful  direction  ;  and  be  led, 
by  its  influences,  into  the  haven,  the  de- 
sired haven  of  peace  and  salvation  ! 

Let  me  once  again  survey  those  vast  but 
noble  deformities  ;  those  rude  but  majestic 
elevations  of  stone.  F'ortifications,  reared 
by  an  almighty  hand,  to  protect  us  at  once 
from  warring  elements,  and  invading  ene- 
mies. Ramparts,  which  overlook  and  com- 
mand the  ocean  ;  which,  viewed  by  distant 
mariners,  seem  to  touch  and  prop  the  sky ; 
which  have  surrounded  our  isle  ever  since 
the  universal  deluge,  and  will  be  her  never- 
failing  defence  even  to  the  general  confla- 
gration. If  some  opinionated  engineer 
should  take  it  into  his  head  to  suspect  the 
stability  of  these  unshaken  and  everlasting 
bulwarks  ;  if  he  should  make  proposals  for 
strengthening  them  with  buttresses,  or  gird- 
ing them  round  with  cramping-irons,  how 
would  his  project  be  received?  with  aj)pro- 
bation  and  applause,  or  with  contempt  and 
indignation?  "  Fool  that  he  is,  to  think  of 
enlarging,  corroborating,  or  improving  the 


•  See  Rom.  ix.  30—32.  and  above,  Letter  V. 


finished  and  magnificent  works  of  nature, 
by  the  puny  piddlings  of  art !"  Such,  so 
foolish  and  preposterous,  was  my  once  fa- 
vourite conceit,  of  adding  my  own  perform- 
ances, in  order  to  increase  the  justifying  ef- 
ficacy of  Christ's  obedience.  What  a  dis- 
paragement was  this  to  the  great,  the  divine 
foimdation  !  which,  for  the  support  and  se- 
curity of  burdened  and  endangered  sinners, 
is  sufficient — is  self-sufiicient — is  all  suffi- 
cient. 

How  changeable  is  the  face  of  this  liquid 
element !  Not  long  ago,  there  was  nothing, 
from  this  stony  boundary  to  the  horizon's 
utmost  verge,  but  the  wildest  tumult  and 
most  horrible  confusion.  Now  the  stormy 
flood  has  smoothed  its  rugged  brow,  and 
the  watery  uproar  is  lulled  into  a  profound 
tratiquillity.  Where  rolling  mountains 
rushed  and  raged,  threatening  to  dash  the 
clouds  and  deluge  the  earth  ;  there  the  gen- 
tlest undulations  play,  and  only  just  wrinkle 
the  surface  of  tlie  mighty  bason.  Where 
the  dreadful  abyss  opened  its  wide  and  un- 
fathomable jaws,  to  swallow  up  the  tremb- 
ling sailor  and  his  shattered  vessel  ;  there  a 
calm  and  clear  expanse  diflfuses  its  ample 
bosom,  alluring  the  fish  to  bask  in  the  sun, 
and  inviting  the  sea-fowl  to  watch  for  their 
prey. 

In  this  fair- floating  mirror,  I  see  the 
picture  of  every  cloud  which  passes  through 
the  regions  of  the  sky.  But  in  its  uncer- 
tain and  treacherous  temperatui'e,  I  see 
more  plainly  the  unconstant  and  ever-varia- 
ble condition  of  human  afl^airs.  I  durst  not 
be  surety  to  the  mariner  for  peaceful  seas 
and  soothing  gales,  I  could  not  ascertain 
the  continuance  of  this  halcyon  weather  so 
much  as  a  single  day,  or  even  to  the  next 
hour.  And  let  me  not  fondly  promise  my- 
self an  iminterrupted  tenor  of  serenity  in 
my  mind,  or  of  prospeiity  in  my  circum- 
stances. Sometimes,  indeed,  my  heart  ex- 
ults under  the  smile  of  heaven  and  the  fa- 
vour of  God  :  But  soon,  ah  !  too  soon,  I 
am  clouded  with  fear,  and  oppressed  with 
corruption.  I  sigh  out  that  passionate  ac- 
knowledgment, "  Wretched  man  that  I  am !" 
and  add  that  wishful  inquiry,  "  Who  shall 
deliver  me  ?"  For  this  disordered  state  of 
things,  the  afflicted  patriarch's  complaint  is 
the  most  apposite  motto,  and  the  most 
wholesome  memento  :  "  Changes  and  war 
are  around  me."  Job  x.  17.  But  there  is 
a  world,  where  disastrous  revolutions  will 
be  known  no  more  ;  where  our  enjoyments 
will  no  longer  fluctuate  like  the  ocean,  but 
be  more  steadfast  than  the  rocks,  and  more 
immoveable  than  the  shores. 

Here  I  sec  an  immense  collection  of  wa- 
ters in  a  state  of  deep  repose.  Could  I  ex- 
tend my  view  to  some  remoter  tracts,  I 
should  behold  every  thing  smoother  and 
1  calmer  still.     Not  a  furrow  sinks,  nor  u 


38? 


THERON  AND  A6PASI0. 


ridge  swolls  the  surface  of  the  ocean  :  It  is 
all  like  a  glassy  plain.  The  waves  are 
asleep  ?  Echo  is  hushed  :  Not  a  gale  stirs  : 
The  sea  stagnates  ;  the  mariner  is  becalm- 
ed, and  the  vessel  scarcely  creeps.  Where- 
as, could  I  survey  the  straits  of  Magellan, 
or  the  gut  of  Gibraltar,  I  should  find  a  very 
striking  difference.  There  the  waters  press 
in  with  vehemence,  and  rush  forwards  with 
impetuosity.  All  is  there  in  strong  agita- 
tion and  rapid  progress.  The  ship  is  whirl- 
ed through  the  narrow  passage,  and  rides, 
as  it  were,  on  the  wheels  of  the  surge,  or 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  This,  my  dear 
Aspasio,  is  a  true  image  of  what  I  have 
been,  and  of  what  I  am,  .  Some  months 
ago,  when  I  was  insensible  of  guilt,  all  my 
prayers  were  listless,  and  all  my  religion 
was  a  spiritual  lethargy.  I  felt  not  in  my 
neart  what  I  uttered  with  my  tongue.  Ho- 
sannahs  were  but  an  empty  ceremony,  and 
confessions  froze  on  my  formal  lips.  But 
since  the  Spirit  of  God  has  awakened  me 
from  my  dream,  and  convinced  me  of  my 
sinfulness,  I  can  no  longer  be  satisfied  with 
indolent  and  yawning  devotions.  Trials 
and  temptations  put  strong  cries  into  my 
mouth.  My  soul  mourns  before  the  Lord ; 
my  desires  plead  with  the  blessed  God  ;  and 
I  am  ready  to  say,  as  the  patriarch  of  old, 
"  I  cannot,  I  must  not,  I  will  not  let  thee 
go,  unless  thou  bless  me."  Gen.  xxxii.  26. 
I  see  no  flocks  of  sheep,  with  sober  assi- 
duity, nibbling  the  grassy  j)lains.  No  spor- 
tive lambs,  with  innocent  gaiety,  frisking 
along  the  sunny  banks.  Here  are  no  stables 
for  the  generous  steed,  nor  pastures  for  the 
lusty  heifer.  Nevertheless  these  watery  re- 
gions are  stocked  with  colonies  of  proper 
and  peculiar  inhabitants,  who  are  clothed 
and  accoutred  in  exact  conformity  to  the 
clime  ;  not  in  swelling  wool  or  buoyant  fea- 
thers, not  in  a  flowing  robe  or  a  full-trim- 
med suit,  but  with  as  much  compactness, 
and  with  as  little  superfluity  as  possible. 
They  are  clad,  or  rather  sheathed  in  scales  ; 
which  adhere  closely  to  their  bodies,  and 
are  always  laid  in  a  kind  of  natural  oil ; 
than  which  apparel,  nothing  can  be  more 
light,  and  at  the  same  time,  nothing  more 
solid.  It  hinders  the  fluid  from  penetrat- 
ing their  flesh,  it  prevents  the  cold  from 
coagulating  their  blood,  and  enables  them 
to  make  their  way  through  the  waters  with 
the  utmost  facility.  They  have  each  a 
curious  instrument,*  by  which  they  increase 
or  diminish  their  specific  gravity  ;  sink  like 
lead,  or  float  like  a  cork ;  rise  to  what 
height,  or  descend  to  what  depth  they 
please. 

This  is  the  abode  of  leviathan,  hugest  of 
living  creatures.  Before  whom  the  broad- 
limbed  elephant  and  the  tall-necked  camel, 

«  Tlie  air-bladilcr. 


are  mere  shrimps  ;  a  stretched  out  promon- 
tory when  he  sleeps ;  a  moving  island  when 
he  swims  ;  "  making  the  sea  to  boil  like  a 
pot,"  when,  unwieldily  wallowing,  he  takes 
his  prodigious  pastime.  Here  the  voraci- 
ous sharkj  that  tyi-ant  of  the  fluid  kingdoms, 
and  assassin  of  the  finny  nations,  roams  and 
commits  his  ravages,  imbrues  his  horrid 
fangs,  and  marks  his  rapid  path  with  blood. 
Here  dwelt  that  great,  and  greatly  surpris- 
ing fish,  whose  fierceness  and  avidity  the 
almighty  Sovereign  employed,  as  his  pur- 
suivant, to  arrest  a  fugitive  prophet :  whose 
ample  jaws,  or  capacious  entrails  were  the 
dungeon  to  confine  a  rebellious  subject,  and 
the  cabin  to  lodge  a  penitent  offender; 
whose  bulk,  and  strength,  and  speed  were  a 
kind  of  vessel,  transporting  this  convict  to 
"  the  bottom  of  the  mountains,  and  the  bars 
of  the  earth."  Jonah  ii.  6.  After  the  cri- 
minal was  sufficiently  chastised,  and  pro- 
perly humbled,  they  served  as  a  galley  with 
oars  to  convey  him  safe  to  land. 

In  the  same  element  resides  (at  least 
takes  up  part  of  his  residence)  that  formid- 
able monster,  who  is  made  without  fear, 
and  "  has  not  his  like  upon  earth."  He 
esteemeth  the  pointed  iron  as  straw,  and 
ponderous  brass  as  rotten  wood.  His 
heart  is  as  hard  as  a  piece  of  the  nether- 
millstone,  and  his  scales  are  a  coat  of  im- 
penetrable mail.  Strength  not  to  be  re- 
sisted, much  less  to  be  subdued,  lies  en- 
trenched in  his  sinewy  neck.  His  eyes  are 
like  the  eyelids  of  the  opening  day ;  and 
when  he  rolls  those  glaring  orbs,  there 
seems  to  be  another  mom  risen  on  mid- 
noon.  His  teeth  are  terrible ;  jagged  for 
rapine  and  edged  with  death.  His  throat 
is  as  a  burning  furnace  ;  clouds  of  smoke 
are  poured  from  his  nostrils,  and  flakes  of 
fire  issue  from  his  mouth.  None,  no  not 
the  most  resolute,  dares  provoke  him  to  the 
combat,  or  even  stir  him  up  from  his  slum- 
bers. He  laugheth  at  the  shaking  of  the 
spear,  "  and  sorrow  marcheth  in  triumph 
before  him,"*  Job.  xli.  22.  Whenever  he 
raiseth  himself,  the  mighty  are  afraid ; 
wherever  he  advanceth,  ruin  is  there.  If  a 
mere  creature  is  capable  of  spreading  such 
alarm  and  dread,  how  greatly  is  the  Crea- 


•  n3N"l  2{pn  pabS-  '•  Mceror,"  says 
Bochart,  "  priecedit  tanquam  metator  et  comes,  tu- 
midique  ante  ambulo  regis."  Terror  and  anguish  are 
a  kind  of  advanced  guard  to  this  monarch  among  the 
reptiles  ;  or,  they  go  before  the  monster,  as  the  man 
bearing  a  shield  went  before  the  Philistine  giant.— 
The  original  word  occurs  in  no  other  jiart  of  the  di- 
vine book.  I  cannot  recollect  any  expression,  which 
so  fully  represents  its  meaning,  as  Homer's  xooiout, 
or  Xenophon's  yuv^ia/rB^ai  ;  both  which  are  intend- 
ed to  describe  the  ardour  and  action  of  a  high-mettled 
prancing  stoe.d. — The  whole  paragraph  is  a  sketch  of 
the  crocodile'.?  picture.  It  exhibits  a  few  circum- 
stances, culled  from  that  inimitable  description,  ex- 
tant in  the  book  of  Job,  which  are  given  cither  ;ii 
the  sacred  writer's  own  words,  or  else  in  a  paraphraa- 
tic  (.xplanation  of  their  sense. 


LETTER  IX. 


869 


Cor  himself  to  be  feared  !  who  can  turn  the 
most  harmless  inhabitant  of  the  ocean  into 
a  ravenous  alligator,  or  a  horrid  crocodile  ! 
who  can  arm  every  reptile  of  the  ground 
with  all  the  force  and  rage  of  a  lion  ! 

It  is  impossible  to  enter  on  the  muster- 
roll  those  scaly  herds,  and  that  minuter 
fry,  which  graze  the  sea-weed,  or  stray 
through  the  coral  groves.  They  are  in- 
numerable as  the  sands  which  lie  under 
them  ;  countless  as  the  waves  which  cover 
them.  Here  are  uncouth  animals,  of  mon- 
strous shapes,*  and  amazing  qualities. -|- 
Some  that  have  been  discovered  by  the  in- 
quisitive eye  of  man  ;  and  many  more,  that 
remain  among  the  secrets  of  the  hoary  deep. 
Here  are  shoals  and  shoals,  of  various  cha- 
racters, and  of  tlie  most  diversified  sizes  ; 
from  the  cumbrous  whale,  whose  flouncings 
tempest  the  ocean,  to  the  evanescent  an- 
chovy, whose  substance  dissolves  in  the 
smallest  fricassee.  Some,  lodged  in  their 
pearly  shells,  and  fattening  on  their  rocky 
beds,  seem  attentive  to  no  higher  emi)loy 
than  that  of  imbibing  moist  nutriment. 
These,  but  a  small  remove  from  vegetable 
life,  are  almost  rooted  to  the  rocks  on 
which  they  lie  reposed ;  while  others,  ac- 
tive as  the  winged  creation,  and  swift  as  an 
arrow  from  the  Indian  bow,  shoot  along 
the  yielding  flood,  and  range  at  large  the 
spacious  regions  of  the  deep. 


*  Monstrous  shapes. — Such  as  the  sword-fish,  whose 
upper  jaw  is  lengthened  into  a  strong  and  sharp  sword, 
with  which  he  sometimes  ventures  to  attacK  ships, 
and  is  capable  of  piercing  their  sides,  though  ribl)ed 
witli  oak.  This  may  be  called  the  cham.pion  of  the 
waters ;  who,  though  never  exceeding  sixteen  feet  in 
length,  yet,  confiding  in  a  weapon  at  once  so  trusty 
and  so  tremendous,  scruples  not  to  give  battle,  even 
to  the  whale  himself.  The  sun-fish  has  no  tail,  seems 
to  be  all  head  ;  and  was  it  not  for  twc.  fins,  which  act 
the  part  of  oars,  would  be  one  entire  round  mass  of 
flesh.  The  polypus,  remarkable  for  its  numerous 
feet,  and  as  many  claws,  by  which  it  has  the  appear- 
ance of  a  mere  insect,  and  seems  fitted  only  to  crawl. 
At  the  same  time  an  excrescence,  arising  on  the  back, 
enables  it  to  steer  and  pursue  a  steady  course  in  the 
waves;  so  that  it  may  pass  under  the  twofold  cha- 
racter of  a  sailor  and  a  reptile. 

t  Aii,iizi>i{!,  i/iii:/lti,-x. — Among  these  may  be  reck- 
oned the  toriiedo,  which  lienumbs  on  a  sudden,  and 
renders  impoltnt,  whatever  fish  it  assaults  ;  and, 
which  is  a  more  rxtr.";onlimry  property,  strikes  even 
the  fisherman's  arm,  when  he  otierb  to  lay  hold  on  it, 
with  a  temporary  der.dncss.  I'y  this  means,  it  pos- 
sesses the  double  advan!.->.:;c  of  arresting;  its  prcv,  and 
securing  itself.— The  cuttie  fish,  furnished  with  a  li- 
quid magazine  of  a  colour  and  consistence  like  ink, 
which,  when  imrsucd  by  an  enemy,  the  creature 
emits  .-nd  Mai  kens  the  water.  By  this  artifice,  the 
foe  is  bewildered  in  the  chase,  and  while  tlie  one 
vainly  gropes  in  the  dark,  the  other  seizes  tlie  oppor- 
tunity, and  makes  his  escape.— The  nautilus,  who.se 
shell  forms  a  natural  boat.  The  dexterous  inhabitant 
unfurln  a  memlirane  to  (he  wind,  which  .serves  him 
instead  of  a  sail,  lie  extends  also  a  couple  of  arms, 
with  which,  as  with  two  slender  oars,  he  rows  him.self 
along.  When  he  is  disposed  to  dive,  he  strikes  sail, 
and,  without  any  apprehension  of  being  drowned, 
sinks  to  the  bottom.  When  the  weather  is  calm,  and 
he  has  an  indiiif'tion  to  see  the  world,  or  Lake  his 
pleasure,  he  movmts  to  the  surlace;  and,  self-taught 
in  the  art  of  navigation,  peiforinshisvcy.age  without 
cither  chart  or  compass:  is  him.self  the  vessel,  the 
rigging,  and  the  pilot.— I'or  a  nune  roiiious  illustr.v 
tion  of  this  aimisiirg  and  wondeiful  subject,  see  Na- 
ture Displayed,  vol.  iii. 


Here  is  the  tortoise,  who  never  moves 
but  under  her  own  portable  ])ent-house  : 
The  lobster,  which,  wliether  he  sleejjs  or 
wakes,  is  still  in  a  state  of  defence,  and  clad 
in  jointed  armour :  The  oyster,  a  sort  of 
living  jelly,  engarrisoned  in  the  bulwark  of 
native  stone  ;  %vith  many  other  kind  of  sea- 
reptiles,  or,  as  the  Psalmist  speaks,  "  things 
creeping  innumerable,"  Psal.  civ.  25.  I 
am  surprised  at  the  variety  of  their  figure, 
and  charmed  with  the  splendour  of  their 
colours.  Unsearchable  is  the  wisdom,  and 
endless  the  contrivance,  of  the  all-creating 
God !  Some  are  rugged  in  their  form,  and 
little  better  than  hideous  in  their  aspect- 
Their  shells  seem  to  be  the  rude  production 
of  a  disorderly  jumble,  rather  than  the  rcr 
gidar  effects  of  skill  and  design.  Yet  we 
shall  find,  even  in  these  seeming  irregulari- 
ties, the  nicest  dispositions.  These  abodes, 
uncouth  as  they  may  appear,  are  adapted  to 
the  genius  of  their  respective  tenants,  and 
exactly  suited  to  their  partieidar  exigences. 
Neither  the  Ionic  delicacy,  nor  the  Corinth- 
ian richness,  nor  any  other  order  of  archi- 
tecture, woidd  have  served  their  purposes 
half  so  well  as  this  coarse  and  homely  fa- 
bric. 

Some,  on  the  other  hand,  are  extremely 
neat.  Their  structure  is  all  symmetry  and  ele- 
gance. No  enamelintheworldis  comparable 
to  their  polish.  There  is  not  a  room  of  state,, 
in  all  the  palaces  of  Europe,  so  brilliantlj 
adorned  as  the  dining-room  and  the  bed  ■ 
chamber  of  the  little  fish  that  dwells  ir 
mother  of  pearl.  Such  a  lovely  mixture  o: 
red,  blue,  and  green,  so  delightfully'staining 
the  most  clear  and  glittering  ground,  is^no- 
where  else  to  be  seen.  The  royal  powei 
may  covet  it,  and  human  art  may  mimic  it ; 
but  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  nor  both 
united,  will  ever  be  able  to  equal  it. 

But  what  I  admire  more  than  all  their 
streaks,  their  spots,  and  their  embroidery, 
is,  the  extraordinary  provision  made  for 
their  safety.  Nothing  is  more  relishing  and 
palatable  than  their  flesh ;  nothing  more 
heavy  and  sluggish  than  their  motions.  As 
they  have  no  speed  to  escape,  neither  have 
they  any  dexterity  to  elude  the  foe.  Were 
they  naked  or  iniguarded,  they  must  be  an 
easy  prey  to  every  freebooter  that  roams  the 
ocean.  To  prevent  this  fatal  consequence, 
what  is  only  clothing  to  other  animals,  is 
to  them  a  clothing,  a  house  and  a  castle. 
They  have  a  foitilication,  that  grows  with 
their  growth,  and  is  a  part  of  themselves. 
By  this  means,  they  live  secure  amidst  mil- 
lions and  millions  of  ravenous  jaws  :  by  this 
means,  they  are  embarked,  as  it  were,  in  their 
own  shell ;  and,  screened  from  every  other 
assault,  are  reserved  for  the  use  and  plea- 
siu'e  of  mankind. 

Tills  is  the  birth-j)lace  of  cod,  the  stand- 
ing repast  of  Lent.     This  is  the  nursery  of 


S84 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


turbot,  for  its  exquisite  relish  justly  styled 
the  pheasant  of  the  waters.  Hence  comes 
the  stiu-geon,  delicious  even  in  pickle,  and 
a  regale  for  royal  luxury;  hence  the  flounders, 
dappled  with  reddish  spots,  and  a  supply  for 
vulgar  wants.  Here  dwell  the  mackerel, 
decked,  when  haled  from  their  native  ele- 
ment, richly  decked  with  the  most  glossy 
dyes  ;  the  herring,  whose  back  is  mottled 
with  azure,  and  his  belly  sleek  with  silver ; 
the  sidnion,  in  plainer  habit,  but  of  larger 
substance,  and  higher  esteem,  than  either  or 
both  the  preceding.  These,  when  shotten 
and  lean,  wander  \\aldly  up  and  down  the 
vast  abyss  ;  when  plump  and  delicate,  they 
throng  our  creeks,  and  swarm  in  our  bays 
— they  repau-  to  the  shallows,  or  haunt  the 
running  streams.  Who  bids  these  creatures 
evacuate  the  shores,  and  disperse  themselves 
into  all  quarters,  when  they  become  worth- 
less and  unfit  for  our  service  ?  Who  rallies 
and  recals  the  undisciplined  vagrants,  as 
soon  as  they  are  improved  into  desirable 
food  ?  Who  appoints  the  very  scene  of  our 
ambushes  to  be  the  place  of  their  rendez- 
vous, so  that  they  come  like  volunteers  to 
our  nets  ?  Surely  the  furlough  is  signed, 
the  summons  issued,  and  the  point  of  re- 
imion  settled,  by  a  Providence  ever  indul- 
gent to  mankind,  ever  studious  to  treat  us 
with  dainties,  and  "  load  us  with  benefits," 
Psal.  Ixviii.  19. 

We  have  wondered  at*  our  Saviour's 
penetration  and  power  : — his  penetration, 
which,  though  the  sea  was  at  a  distance,  and 
walls  intervened,  discerned  the  fish  that  had 
just  swallowed  a  piece  of  money; — his 
power,  which,  without  any  delay,  brought 
the  lawless  rambler,  charged  with  the  silver 
spoil,  to  Peter's  hook.  But  is  it  not  equally 
wonderful,  to  observe  such  innumerable 
multitudes  of  finny  visitants  annually  ap- 
proaching our  shores  and  crowding  our 
banks  ?  which  furnish  our  tables  with  a 
wholesome  and  delicate  repast,  at  the  same 
time  that  they  yield  to  our  nation  a  revenue-j- 
more  certain,  and  no  less  considerable,  than 
the  mines  of  Peru  ? 

These  approach,  while  those  of  enormous 
size  and  tremendous  appearance  abandon 
the  shores.  The  latter  might  endanger  the 
fisherman's  safety,  and  would  certainly  scare 
away  the  valuable  fish  from  our  coasts. 
They  are  therefore  restrained  by  an  invisi- 
ble hand,  and  abscond  in  the  abysses  of  the 
ocean.  Just  as  the  %\ald  beasts  of  the  earth, 
impelled    by  the    same  overruling   power, 


»  See  Letter  VIII. 

t  We  are  toUl  by  the  after-mentior.ed  author,  that 
tlie  banks  of  Newfoundland  alone  brinp;  into  the  pro- 
prietors of  that  fishery  a  revenue  of  several  millions 
every  year.  And  they  will,  in  all  probability,  bean 
unnnpaired  resource  of  treasure,  when  the"  richest 
mines  now  wrousht  in  the  world  arc  choake-.l  up  or  ex- 
hausted. 


hide  themselves  in  the  recesses  of  the  foJ"- 
est.  A  ship  infected  with  a  pestilential 
distemper  is  obliged  to  keep  off  at  sea, 
and  not  permitted  to  enter  the  port  till  she 
has  performed  her  quarantine.  In  like  man- 
ner, these  monsters  of  the  deep,  whose  very 
business  is  destruction,  are  laid  under  a 
providential  interdict ;  only  with  this  very 
desirable  difference,  that  as  their  presence 
would  always  be  pernicious,  they  are  never 
suffered  to  come  near,  their  quarantine  is 
perpetual. 

"  Ask  now  the  beasts,  and  they  shall 
teach  thee ;  and  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  they 
shall  tell  thee ;  or  speak  to  the  earth,*  and 
it  shall  teach  thee ;  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea 
shall  declare  unto  thee,"  Job.  xii.  7,  8,  that 
the  Lord  is  gracious ;  that  his  tender  mer- 
cies are  over  all  his  works  ;  that  to  us  he 
is  superabundantly  and  profusely  good,  hav- 
ing ordered  all  things  in  the  surges  of  the 
ocean,  as  well  as  on  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  for  our  rich  accommodation,  and  for 
our  greatest  advantage. 

One  circumstance  relating  to  the  natives 
of  the  deep  is  very  peculiar,  and  no  less  as- 
tonishing. As  they  neither  sow  nor  reap, 
have  neither  the  produce  of  the  hedges  nor 
the  gleanings  of  the  field,  they  are  obliged 
to  plunder  and  devour  one  another  for  ne- 
cessary stibsistence.  They  are  a  kind  of 
authorized  banditti,  that  make  violence  and 
murder  their  professed  trade.-f  By  this 
means  prodigious  devastations  ensue  ;  and 
without  proper,  without  very  extraordin- 
ary recruits,  the  whole  race  must  contin- 
ually dwindle,  and  at  length  be  totally  ex- 
tinct. Were  they  to  bring  forth,  like  the 
most  prolific  of  our  terrestrial  animals,  a 
dozen  only,  or  a  score  at  each  birth,  the  in- 
crease would  be  unspeakably  too  small  for 
the  consumption  ;  the  weaker  species  would 
be  destroyed  by  the  stronger;  and,  in  time, 
the  stronger  must  perish,  even  by  their  suc- 
cessful endeavours  to  maintain  themselves. 
Therefore,  to  supply  millions  of  assassins 
with  their  prey,  and  millions  of  tables  with 
their  food,  yet  not  to  depopulate  the  watery 
realms ;  the  issue  produced  by  every  breed- 
er is  almost  incredible.  They  spawn,  not 
by  scores  or  hundreds,  but  by  thousands  and 
by  millions.  J    A  single  mother  is  pregnant 


•  The  earth  is  represented  as  bearing  witness  to  the 
immensebenignity  of  the  blessed  God.  Some  minutes, 
or  a  short  abstract  of  her  testimony  on  this  occasion, 
may  be  seen  in  Letter  VI. 

t  To  this,  I  believe,  the  prophet  alludes,  in  that 
remarkable  expression,  Thou  makest  men  as  the 
fishes  of  the  sea.  Thou  sufferest  men  to  commit,  with- 
out restraint  or  control ,  all  manner  of  outr.ages.  What 
should  be  a  civil  community,  is  a  scene  of  oppression. 
The  weakest  are  a  prt  y  to  the  strongest ;  and  every 
one  seeks  the  destruction  of  his  neighbour,  Hab.  i.  4. 

t  Mr.  Petit  found  342,144  eggs  in  the  har<l  roe  of 
a  car)),  sixteen  inches  long.  Mr.  Lowenhocik  counted 
in  a  cod  of  an  ordinary  siie,  9,.'!iit,000  eggs. — A  fecun- 
dity perfectly  amazing !  but  admirably  adapted  to  the 


LETTER  IX. 


385 


with  a  nation.  By  which  amaziiif^,  but 
most  neetlful  ex])edii;nt,  a  periodical  repar- 
ation is  made,  proportionable  to  the  im- 
mense havoc. 

As  the  sea  is  peopled  with  animated  in- 
habitants, it  is  also  variegated  with  vegeta- 
ble productions.  Some  soft  as  wool,  others 
hard  as  stone.  Some  rise  like  a  leafless 
shrub  ;  some  are  expanded  in  the  form  of  a 
net,  some  grow  with  their  heads  downward, 
and  seem  rather  li,!iif;ing  on,  than  sjjringing 
from  the  juttings  ot  the  rocks.  Tliese  may, 
with  much  greater  projiriety  than  the  famous 
plantations  of  Semiramis,  be  called  pensile 
gardens.  But  as  my  walk  readied  no  fartlier 
than  the  purlieus  of  the  oeeati  ;  as  neither 
you  nor  I  have  ever  taken  a  single  turn 
among  those  submarine  groves  ;  as  Moses, 
Joshua,  and  Jonah,  the  only  writers  that 
over  made  the  wonderful  tour,  intent  upon 
more  important  themes,  have  left  us  no  me- 
moirs relating  to  this  curious  point ;  I  shall 
)iot  venture  to  advance  any  thing  particular 
on  the  subject.  Only  one  remark  I  would 
offer  in  general  : — 

The  herbs  and  trees  which  flourish  on 
the  dry  land,  are  maintained  by  the  juices, 
that  ])ermeate  the  soil,  and  fluctuate  in  the 
air.  For  this  purpose  they  are  furnished 
with  leaves  to  collect  the  one,  and  with 
loots  to  attract  the  other.  Whereas,  the 
sea-plants,  finding  sufticient  nourishment  in 
the  circumambient  waters,  have  no  occasion 
to  detach  a  party  of  roots  into  the  ground, 
and  forage  the  earth  for  sustenance,  in- 
stead, therefore,  of  penetrating,  they  are  but 
just  tacked  to  the  bottom  ;  and  adhere  to  some 
solid  substance,  only  with  such  a  degree  of 
tenacity  as  may  secure  them  from  being 
tossed  to  and  fro  by  the  random  agitation 
of  the  waves. 

We  see  from  this,  and  numberless  other 
instances,  what  a  diversity  there  is  in  the 
operations  of  the  great  Creator's  hand.  Yet 
every  alteration  is  an  improvement,  and 
each  new  pattern  has  a  peculiar  fitness  of 
its  own.  The  same  economy  takes  ])lace. 
such  a  difference  of  administration, — I  mean, 
in  his  government  of  llie  rational  world.  In 
'*  clioosing  an  heritage  for  his  people,''  and 
assigning  a  condition  to  each  of  his  servants, 
there  is  a  great  variety  with  respect  to  indi- 
viduals, yet  a  perfect  uniiormity  and  com- 
]>lete  harmony  with  respect  to  the  whole. 
Some  he  calls  out  to  a  course  of  distinguish- 
ed labours  :  The\'  make  an  illustrious  figure 
in  life,  and  appear  "  as  a  city  set  on  an  hill." 
Alatth.  V.  14.      Others  he  consigns  over  to 


pressing  exigencies  of  the  watery  world ;  p.clmirably 
contrived  for  the  benefit  and  delight  of  mankind  !  If 
we  advert  to  this  peculiarity,  it  will  jjive  the  utmost 
emphasis  to  the  patriarch's  metaphorical  expression, 
and  an  inimitable  beauty  to  his  prophetic  wisli.  Let 
these  my  grandsons  grow  into  a  nniltitude  :  or,  which 
is  more  exactly  answerable  to  theoriginal,  "let  them 
inultiply  abinulrintlv,  even  like  the  fishes  of  tlic 
ocean,"  (ien.  xlviii.  16. 


obscurity  :  They  are  like  the  prophets  whom 
good  Obadiah  hid  in  a  cave,  ami  are  styled 
"his  secret  ones."  Psalm lx.xxiii.  3.  Tliose, 
the  cedars,  which  stand  conspicuous  on  the 
top  of  Lebanon  ;  these,  the  violets  which 
lie  concealed  at  the  foot  of  a  brier. 

St.  Paul  was  eminently  qualified  for  busy 
scenes,  and  the  most  extensive  services. 
He  is  introduced,  therefore,  into  places  of 
concourse.  His  ministry  lies  amidst  the 
most  renowned  and  populous  cities.  Even 
his  imprisonment  at  Home  seems  to  have 
been  a  providential  expedient  for  fixing  him, 
as  it  were,  on  the  stage  of  public  observa- 
tion, and  in  the  very  centre  of  universal  in- 
telligence ;  where  his  ])reaching  was  like 
plunging  a  stone  into  the  midst  of  a  smooth 
canal,  which  aiiects  not  only  the  neighbour- 
ing parts  of  the  surface,  but  spreads  the 
floating  circles  over  ail  the  wide  expanse. 
Whereas,  the  beloved  .John,  being  less  fitted 
to  bustle  among  a  crowd,  is  sent  into  the 
unfrequented  solitary  island,  there  to  in- 
dulge the  flights  of  heavenly  contemplation, 
and  receive,  with  uninterrupted  attention, 
the  mysterious  visions  of  God. — Job  shall 
have  thorns  in  his  path;  have  the  dunghill 
for  his  seat ;  and  be  exposed,  as  a  mark,  to 
all  the  arrows  of  tribulation.  Solomon  shall 
dip  his  foot  in  oil ;  shall  1,'e  elevated  on  the 
throne  of  royalty,  and  surrounded  witli  the 
most  lavish  caresses  of  heaven. 

In  all  this  seeming,  this  more  than  seeming 
contrariety,  there  is  a  display,  not  only  of 
sovereign,  authority,  but  of  consummate 
propriety.  The  great  head  of  the  church 
acts  like  a  judicious  general,  and  appoints 
such  a  station  to  each  of  his  soldiers  as  cor- 
responds with  the  ability  he  gives.  He 
acts  like  the  most  skilful  physician,  and 
prescribes  such  a  remedy  for  all  his  pa- 
tients, as  is  most  nicely  suited  to  their 
respective  cases.  He  knows  the  precise 
point  of  time,  the  jjarticular  place  of  abode, 
the  peculiar  ciicumstances  of  condition, 
which  are  most  jnoper  for  each  and  e\eiy 
of  his  children  ;  and,  like  a  tender  as  well 
as  uneriing  father,  what  he  knows  to  be 
best,  that  he  constantly  allots.  Tsaid,  like 
a  general,  like  a  physician,  like  a  father. 
But  the  comparison  is  low  ;  the  language 
is  inexpressive.  Christ  is  all  that  is  im- 
j)lied  in  these  relations,  and  unspeakably 
more.  O  that  we  may  rejoice  in  the  super- 
intendency  of  such  a  Saviour  !  and  not  only 
resign  ourselves  to  his  will,  but  thank  him 
for  managing  the  helm  ;  thank  him  for 
steering  our  course,  through  the  changes  of 
time  and  the  uncertainties  of  futurity  ;  since, 
whatever  our  forward  and  j)etulant  passions 
may  suggest,  the  Lord's  ways  are  so  far 
from  being  unequal,  that  they  have  all  the 
jiossihle  fitness  and  propriety — they  are  or- 
dered "  in  number,  weight,  and  measure." 

All   this  is  so  very  diflTerent  from  the 
2c 


.^u 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


prospects  which  lately  presented  theniFelvrs, 
that  1  can  hardly  forbear  asking,  Whether 
I  am  not  translated  into  a  new  world  ? 
Where  are  the  waving:  hillocks,  covered 
with  the  Creator's  bounty?  where  are  the 
I'ruitful  valleys,  made  vocal  with  his  praise  ? 
No  cultured  field,  no  opening  blossom,  not 
so  much  as  a  green  leaf  appears.  None  of 
my  late  entertainments  remain,  Init  only  the 
cooling  zephyrs ;  which  are  no  longer  per- 
fumed with  the  breath  of  flowers,  but  im- 
pregi>ated  with  the  freshness  of  the  ocean. 
Yet  though  all  those  lovely  landscapes  are 
withdrawn — though  the  gurgling  fountain 
is  silenced,  and  the  blooming  garden  lost — 
I  am  not  far  from  the  origin,  both  of  the 
odours  which  exhale  from  the  one,  and  of 
the  oystal  which  flows  from  the  other.  I 
am  now  ujjon  the  margin  of  that  grand  re- 
servoir which  supplies  the  country  with  its 
fertility,  and  the  parterre  with  its  beauty. 
The  sea  is  the  inexhaustible  cistem  of  the 
universe  -.  The  air  and  sun  constitute  the 
mighty  engine,  which  works  without  inter- 
mission to  raise  the  liquid  treasure  ;  Avhile 
the  clouds  serve  as  so  many  aqueducts,  to 
convey  the  genial  stores  along  the  atmos- 
phere, and  distribute  them  at  seasonable 
periods,  and  in  regular  proportions,  through 
all  the  regions  of  the  globe. 

I  question  whether  the  united  application 
of  mankind  could,  with  their  utmost  skill, 
and  with  all  possible  percolations,  fetch  a 
single  drop  of  perfectly  sweet  water*  from 
this  unmeasurable  pit  of  brine.  Yet  the 
action  of  the  solar  heat  draws  off,  every  hour, 
every  miiuite,  millions  and  millions  of  tons, 
in  s-aporous  exhalations,which  being  skilfully 
parcelled  out,  and  securely  lodged  in  "  the 
bottles  of  heaven,"-|-  are  sent  abroad,  sweet- 
ened and  refined,  without  any  brackish  tinc- 
ture, or  the  least  bituminous  sediment,  sent 
abroad  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind,  to  dis- 
til in  dews,  or  pour  themselves  in  rain,  to 
ooze  from  the  orifices  of  fountains ;  to 
trickle  along  the  veins  of  rivulets  ;  to  rise 
in  the  cavities  of  wells  ;  to  roll  in  many  a 
headlong  torrent,  from  the  sides  of  moun- 
tains ;  to  flow  in  copious  streams,  amidst 
the  bosom  of  burning  deserts,  and  through 
the  heart  of  populous  kingdoms,  in  order  to 


»  I  have  not  forgotten  what  was  lately  affirmed  in 
ourpublic  papers,  that  accrtain  inijeniius  fjentleman, 
I  think,  in  the  city  of  Durham,  hart  f.uinrtoutthe  art 
of  sweetening  sea-water. — What  lie  priKluced  might 
proljably  approve  itself  to  the  taste,  and  not  be  with- 
out its  usefulness,  ^'et  I  cannot  but  (|uery,  whether 
itwill  be  found  to  haveall  thosefinc,  b.almy,  salutifer- 
ousqualitics,  which  distinguish  and  recommend  the 
rain-water,  which  has  been  exhaled  by  the  kindly 
warmth  of  the  sun ;  has  been  filtrated  by  passing  and 
repassini;  through  the  regions  of  the  air  ;  has  been 
clarified  in  the  liighest  and  purest  tracts  of  the  atmos- 
phere— has  been  further  refined  and  perfected  by  the 
searching  agency  of  the  winds.  I  shoidd  very  much 
wonder,  if  the  puny  alembic  could  equal  this  grand 
apparatus  of  nature. 

t  So  the  clouds  are  elegantly  styled  in  sacred  wi'it. 
Job  XXXV  iii.  37. 


refresh  and  fertilize,  to  beautify  and  enricli, 
every  soil,  in  every  clime. 

How  amiable  is  the  goodness,  and  how 
amazing  is  the  power  of  the  world's  ador- 
able Maker  !  How  amiable  his  goodness,  in 
distributing  so  largely  what  is  so  absolutely 
necessary,  and  so  extensively  beneficial ! 
That  water,  without  which  we  can  scarce 
perforin  any  business,  or  enjoy  any  comfort, 
should  be  every  one's  property;  should  spring 
up  from  the  soil ;  should  drop  down  from 
the  clouds ;  should  stream  by  our  houses  ; 
should  take  a  journey  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  and  the  extremities  of  the  ocean,  on 
purpose  to  serve  us.  How  amazing  liis 
power  !  that  this  boundless  mass  of  fluid 
salt,  so  intolerably  nauseous  to  the  human 
taste,  should  be  the  original  spring  which 
deals  out  every  palatable  draught  to  man- 
kind, and  quenches  the  thirst  of  every  ani- 
mal !  Doubtless  the  power  by  which  this  is 
effected  can  extract  comfort  from  our  afflic- 
tions, advantage  from  our  calamities,  and 
"  make  all  things  w-ork  together  for  our 
good. "  Rom.  viii.  28. 

Vast  and  various  are  the  advantages" 
which  we  receive  from  the  liquid  element ; 
vast,  as  its  unbounded  extent ;  various,  as 
its  ever-mutable  surface.  The  sweet  waters 
glide  along  the  earth  in  spacious  currents, 
which  not  only  exhilarate  the  adjacent  coun- 
try by  their  humid  train  and  exhaling  mois- 
ture, but,  by  giving  a  brisk  impulse  to  the 
air,  prevent  the  unwholesome  stagnation  of 
their  own  vapours.  They  pass  by  opulent 
cities,  and,  receiving  all  their  filth,  rid  them 
of  a  thousand  nuisances,  which,  when  once 
committed  to  these  fluid  scavengers,  are  as 
effectually  secreted  as  if  they  were  buried 
ever  so  deep  in  the  earth.  Yet,  though  they 
condescend  to  so  mean  an  employ,  they  are 
fitted  for  more  honourable  services.  They 
enter  the  gardens  of  a  prince,  and  compose 
some  of  the  most  delightful  ornaments  of 
the  place.  They  glitter  upon  the  eye,  as 
they  float  in  the  ample  canal.  They  amuse 
the  imagination  as  they  ascend  in  curious 
jets  dean-  They  j-ield  a  nobler  entertain- 
ment, as,  forming  themselves  into  sheets  of 
sloping  silver,  theyfall  in  graceful  or  in  grand 
cascades.  If,  instead  of  beautifiers,  we  think 
pro])er  to  make  use  of  them  as  drudges,  they 
ply  at  our  mills  ;  they  toil  incessantly  at  the 
wheel,  and,  by  working  the  hugest  engines, 
take  upon  themselves  an  unknown  share  of 
our  fatigue,  and  save  us  a  proportionable  de- 
gree of  expense. 

So  forcibly  they  act  when  collected,  and 
most  surprisingly  they  insinuate  when  de- 


♦  The  high  value  which  mankind  set  upon  this  ele- 
ment, and  the  manv  benefits  they  receive  from  its 
ministration,  both  these  particulars  are  very  strongly 
expicfsed  by  the  Hebrews,  who  call  apool  or  reservoir 
of  %vater,  in'its  |>riraary  signification,  a  blessing,  CauU 
vii.  4.  Isa.  vii.  3. 


LETTER  IX. 


387 


tached.  They  throw  themselves  into  the 
body  of  a  plant,  they  penetrate  the  minutest 
of  its  organized  tubes,  and  find  a  passage 
through  meanders,  too  small  for  the  eye  to 
discern,  too  nimierous  and  intricate  even  for 
imagination  to  follow.  How  difficultly  does 
a  labourer  that  serves  the  mason  push  his 
way  up  the  rounds  of  a  ladder,  bending  un- 
der the  burden  of  mortar  on  his  head  I 
while  these  servants  in  the  employ  of  nature 
carry  their  load  to  a  much  greater  height, 
and  climb  with  the  utmost  ease,  even  with- 
out the  assistance  of  steps  or  stairs.  They 
convey  the  nutrimental  stores  of  vegetation, 
from  the  lowest  fibres  that  are  plunged  into 
the  soil,  to  the  very  topmost  twigs  that 
wave  amidst  the  clouds.  They  are  the  ca- 
terers for  the  vegetable  world,  or  (if  I  may 
be  allowed  the  expression)  the  suttlers 
which  attend  the  whole  host  of  plants,  to 
furnish  them  with  seasonable  refreshment 
and  necessary  provision.  By  means  of 
which  "  the  trees  of  the  Lord  are  full  of 
sap,  even  the  cedars  of  Lebanon  which  he 
hath  planted."  Psalm  civ.  16.  And  not- 
withstanding their  vast  elevation  and  pro- 
digious diffusion — though  they  are  abandon- 
ed by  man,  and  deprived  of  all  cultivation — 
yet  not  a  single  branch  is  destitute  of  leaves, 
nor  a  single  leaf  of  moisture. 

Besides  the  salutary,  cleanly,  and  service- 
able circulation  of  the  rivers,  the  sea  has  a 
libration  no  less  advantageous,  and  much 
more  remarkable.  Eveiy  day  this  immense 
collection  of  waters,  for  the  space  of  five  or 
six  hours,  flows  towards  the  land,  and  after 
a  short  pause,  retires  again  to  its  inmost  ca- 
verns, taking  up  nearly  the  same  time  in  its 
retreat,  as  it  required  for  its  access.  How 
great  is  the  power  which  sets  the  whole 
fluid  world  in  motion !  which  protrudes  to 
the  shores  such  an  inconceivable  weight  of 
waters,  without  any  concurrence  from  the 
winds,  frequently  in  direct  opposition  to  all 
their  force  !  How  gracious  also  is  the  Pro- 
vidence which  bids  the  mighty  element  per- 
form its  tumbling  revolutions  with  the  most 
exact  punctuality  !  Was  it  suffered  to  ad- 
vance with  a  lawless  and  unlimited  swell, 
it  might  sweep  over  kingdoms,  and  deluge 
whole  continents.  Was  it  irregular  and 
uncertain  in  its  ajjproaches,  navigation  would 
be  at  a  stand,  and  trade  become  precarious. 
But,  being  constant  at  its  stated  periods, 
and  never  exceeding  its  apjiointed  bounds, 
it  creates  no  aliiini  t<>  tlic  country,  and  af- 
fords very  considerable  aids  to  traflic. 

The  tide,  at  its  flow,  rushing  up  our 
large  rivers,  clears  and  deepens  the  passage, 
in  many  places  sjirtads  a  copious  flood, 
where  a  dry  and  empty  waste  lay  before- 
Is  the  sailor  returned  from  his  voyage,  and 
waiting  at  the  mouth  of  the  channel?  The 
flux  is  ready  to  convey  his   vessel  to  the  its  progress,  no,  not  for  a  moment.   Though 


very  doors  of  the  owner,  and  without  any 
hazard  of  striking  on  the  rocks  or  being  fas- 
tened in  the  sands.  Has  the  merchant 
freighted  his  ship  ?  would  he  have  it  trans- 
ferred to  the  ocean  ?  The  reflux  tenders  its 
service,  and  bears  away  the  load,  with  the 
utmost  expedition,  and  with  equal  safety. 
Behold,  O  man  !  how  greatly  thou  art  be- 
loved, how  highly  favoured  by  thy  Maker  ! 
In  what  part  of  his  works  has  he  forgotten 
or  overlooked  thy  welfare  ?  Show  me  a  crea- 
ture, point  out  a  spot,  in  the  formation  or 
disposition  of  which  he  has  not  been  mind- 
ful of  thy  interests  ?  "  He  has  made  thee 
to  have  dominion  over  the  works  of  his 
hands  and  has  put  all  things  in  subjection 
under  thy  feet.  All  sheep  and  oxen,  the 
fowls  of  the  air,  and  the  fishes  ;"  yea  and 
the  surges  "  of  the  sea,"  Psalm  viii.  C — 8, 
are  subservient  to  thy  benefit.  Even  these, 
wild  and  impetuous  as  they  are,  yield  their 
willing  backs  to  receive  thy  load  and,  like 
an  indefatigable  beast  of  burden,  carry  it  to 
the  place  which  thou  shalt  nominate. 

What  preserves  this  vast  flood  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  purity?  It  is  the  universal 
sewers,  into  which  are  discharged,  the  refuse 
and  filth  of  the  whole  world.  That  which 
would  defile  the  land,  and  pollute  the  air, 
is  transmitted  to  the  ocean,  and  neither 
mischief  nor  inconvenience  ensue.  Those 
swarms  of  locusts,  which,  while  living,  were 
a  plague  to  Pharaoh,  by  their  loathed  intru- 
sion, and,  when  dead,  might  have  caused  a 
more  dreadful  plague,  by  their  noisome 
stench,  swept  into  the  sea,  were  neither 
pestilential  nor  ofliensive.  How  then  is  this 
receptacle  of  every  nuisance  kept  clean?  Why 
does  it  not  contract  a  noxious  taint,  and  dif- 
fuse a  destructive  contagion  ?  such  as  would 
render  it  a  grave  to  the  aquatic,  and  bane 
to  the  terrestrial  animals  ?  It  is  owing  partly 
to  its  incessant  motion,  partly  to  its  saline 
quality,  liy  the  one,  it  is  secured  from  any 
internal  principle  of  corruption  ;  by  the 
other,  it  works  itself  clear  from  every  adven- 
titious defilement. 

A  directory  this,  and  a  pattern  for  me  1 
Thus  may  divine  grace,  like  the  penetrat- 
ing power  of  salt,  cure  the  depravity  of  my 
heart,  and  rectify  the  disorders  of  my  tem- 
per !  season  my  words,  and  make  all  my 
conversation  savoury  !  Thus  may  a  con- 
tinual course  of  activity,  in  my  secular  and 
my  sacred  vocation,  prevent  the  pernicious 
ell'ects  of  indolence !  Let  me  daily  exer- 
cise, or  be  attempting  to  exercise,  the  graces 
of  Christianity,  lest  faith  become  feeble, 
lest  hope  conti-act  dimness,  and  charity  wax 
cold. 

Now  the  tide  begins  to  flow.  Wave 
rises  upon  wave,  and  billow  rolls  over  bil- 
low.     Nothing   can   divert,  nothing   retard 


389 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Canutus  he  in  the  way,*  though  his  royal 
authority  and  strict  prohibition,  nay,  though 
all  the  forces  of  his  kingdom  oppose,  it  will 
never  discontinue  the  advancing  swell,  till 
it  has  reached  the  destined  point.  So  may 
I  always  abound  in  communion  with  God, 
or  in  beneficence  to  men,  resigning  one  re- 
ligious or  charitable  employ  only  to  enter 
upon  another,  and  be  thus  pressing  forward, 
still  pressing  forward,  to  the  prize  of  my 
high  calling  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  differing  from 
these  regular  vicissitudes  of  the  ocean  only 
in  one  particular,  that  my  endeavours  never 
ebb,  my  soul  never  draws  back :  since  this 
would  be,  if  temporary,  to  my  grievous  loss; 
if  final,  to  my  aggravated  perdition. 

Consider  the  sea  in  another  capacity,  and 
it  connects  the  remotest  realms  of  the  uni- 
verse, by  facilitating  an  intercourse  between 
the  respective  inhabitants.  What  short- 
sighted beings  are  mankind!  how  extremely 
superficial  their  views !  how  unavoidable, 
therefore,  their  frequent  mistakes !  The 
ancients  looked  upon  this  bottomless  deep, 
as  an  impassable  gulf.  If  our  forefathers 
•were  so  egregiously  mistaken  in  this  in- 
stance, let  us  not  too  peremptorily  pro- 
nounce upon  any  difficult  or  mysterious 
point,  lest  succeeding  generations,  or  a  more 
enlightened  state,  should  cover  us  with  the 
double  confusion  of  childish  ignorance  and 
foolish  conceit. 

We  have  clearly  demonstrated,  and  hap- 
pily experienced,  the  very  reverse  of  that 
grey-headed  surmise  to  be  true.  The 
ocean,  instead  of  being  a  bar  of  separation, 
is  the  great  bond  of  union.  For  this  pur- 
pose, it  is  never  exhausted,  though  it  sup- 
plies the  whole  firmament  with  clouds,  and 
the  whole  earth  with  rains  ;  nor  ever  over- 
flows, though  all  the  rivers  in  the  universe 
are  perpetually  augmenting  its  stores,  and 
pouring    in    their    tributary    floods.        By 


*  Alludina;  to  a  memorable  and  instructive  story  re- 
corded of  king  Canutus,  who,  probably  without  hav- 
ing read,  had  nevertheless  thoroughly  learned,  that 
excellent  lesson  of  Horace  : 

Regum  timendorum  in  proprios  gregcs, 
Reges  in  ipsos  imperium  est  Jovis. 

Some  of  his  abject  and  designing  flatterers  had  the 
impious  assurance  to  tell  him,  "  his  power  was  more 
than  human."  To  convince  them  of  their  folly,  and 
rebuke  them  for  their  falsehood,  he  ordered  his  chair 
of  state  to  be  placed  on  the  extremity  of  the  shore, 
just  as  the  tide  began  to  flow.  Here  he  took  his  seat 
in  the  presence  of  the  parasites,  and  many  other  at- 
tendants. Then,  with  all  that  dignity  of  air,  and 
severity  of  accent,  which  sovereign  authority  knows 
how  to  assume,  he  said,  *'  Thou  sea,  the  land  on 
which  I  sit  is  mine  :  nor  has  any  one  dared  to  invade 
my  rights,  or  disobey  my  commands,  without  suffer- 
ing the  deserved  punishment.  I  charge  thee,  there- 
fore, on  pain  of  my  highest  displeasure,  not  to  enter 
these  territories,  nor  touch  the  feet  of'  England's 
monarch."  When  the  rude  waves  made  bold  to  en- 
ter on  the  forbidden  ground;  nay,  when  those  un- 
courtly  things  viresumed  to  rush  lipon  the  royal  seat, 
and  even  to  dash  his  Majesty's  person,  he  started 
from  his  throne,  and  bid  every  beholder  observe  the 
impotence  of  earthly  kings:  bid  them  remember, 
that  He  alone  is  worthy  of  the  name,  whom  winds, 
and  waves,  and  universal  nature  obey. 


means  of  this  element  we  travel  farther 
than  birds  of  the  strongest  pinion  fly,  and 
discover  tracts  which  the  "  vulture's  eye 
has  never  seen,"  Job  xxviii.  7.  We  make 
a  visit  to  nations  that  lie  drowned  in  their 
midnight  slumbers,  when  every  industrious 
person  on  this  part  of  the  globe  is  bestir- 
ring himself  in  all  the  hurry  of  business. 
We.  cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  the 
sun-burnt  negro  and  the  shivering  Icelander. 
We  cross  the  flaming  line,  we  penetrate 
the  frozen  pole,  and  wing  our  way  even 
round  the  world. 

This  is  the  great  vehicle  of  commerce. — 
Not  to  mention  the  floating  castles,  which 
contain  whole  armies,  which  bear  the  thun- 
der, the  fiery  tempests,  and  all  the  dreadful 
arti]lery_|of  war  ;  what  a  multitude  of  ships, 
of  the  largest  dimensions  and  most  prodigi- 
ous burden,  are  continually  passing  and  re- 
passing this  luiiversal  thoroughfare !  ships 
that  are  freighted,  not  with  sacks,  but  with 
harvests  of  corn  ;  that  carry  not  pipes,  but 
vintages  of  wine  ;  that  are  laden,  not  with 
bars  of  iron,  blocks  of  marble,  or  wedges  of 
gold,  but  with  whole  quarries  of  massy  stone, 
and  whole  mines  of  ponderous  metal !  All 
which,  lodged  in  these  volatile  storehouses, 
and  actuated  hy  the  breath  of  heaven,  are 
wafted  to  the  very  ends  of  the  earth;  waft- 
ed, enormous  and  unwieldy  as  they  are,  more 
expeditiously  than  the  light  Berlin  bowls 
along  the  road  ;  almost  as  speedily  as  the 
nimble-footed  roe  hounds  over  the  hills.* 

Astonishing  ordination  of  eternal  wisdom! 
yet  most  graciously  contrived  for  the  bene- 
fit of  mankind ! — I  can  hardly  satisfy  my 
view  in  beholding  this  rolling  chaos  ;  I  can 
never  cease  my  admiration,  in  contemplat- 
ing its  amazing  properties.  —  That  an  ele- 
ment, so  unstable  and  fugitive,  should  bear 
up  such  an  immense  weight,  as  would  bend 
the  firmest  floors,  or  burst  the  strongest 
beams !  Tlnit  the  thin  and  yielding  air 
should  drive  on,  with  so  much  facility  and 
speed,  bodies  of  such  excessive  bulk  as  the 
strength  of  a  legion  u'oidd  be  unable  to 
move !  That  the  air  and  the  water,  acting 
in  conjunction,  should  carry  to  the  distance 
of  many  thousand  miles,  what  the  united 
force  of  men  and  machines  could  scarcely 
drag  a  single  yard  ! — Puny  and  despicable 
are  our  attempts  ;  but  great  and  marvellous 
are  thy  works,  O  Lord  God  Almighty ! 
"  If  thou  wilt  work,"  says  the  prophet,  who 
or  what  "  shall  let  it?"  Isa.  xliii.  13.  Neither 
the  meanness  of  the  instrument,  nor  the 
greatness  of  the  event.  A  sling  and  a  stone 
shall  lay  the  gigantic  bravo  in  the  dust,  I 
Sam.  xvii.  50.      An  ox-goad  shall  do  more 


*  A  ship,  imdera  brisk  and  steady  gale,  will  sail  at 
the  rate  of  216  miles  in  24  hours;  persevering,  if  the 
wind  continues  favourable,  in  the  same  rapid  career 
for  several  days  together:  A  coursf, which,  consider- 
ing both  its  swiftness  and  duration,  cannot  be  equal- 
led by  the  ablest  horse,  perhaps  not  by  the  nimblest 
creature  that  treads  the  ground. 


LETTER  IX. 


389 


execution  than  a  battery  of  cannon,  Judg.  iii. 
31.  Even  "  a  worm  shall  thresh  the  moun- 
tains and  beat  them  small,  and  make  the 
hills  as  chaff,"  Isa.  xli.  14,  15.  God  All- 
Sufficient  is  his  name,  and  out  of  weak- 
ness he  maketh  his  strength  perfect.  O  that 
we,  my  dear  Aspasio,  that  I  especially,  may 
be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of 
his  might !  Then,  as  the  light  air  is  made 
to  act  with  a  more  forcible  imj)ulse  than 
the  most  vigorous  engines  ;  as  the  fluid  wa- 
ter is  made  to  sustain  more  ponderous  loads 
than  the  most  substantial  works  of  masonry  ; 
so  we,  who  in  ourselves  are  nothing  but 
impotence,  shall  be  enabled  to  triumph  over 
the  legions  of  hell,  and  tread  down  all  the 
temptations  of  the  world. 

How  are  the  mariners  conducted  through 
this  fluid  common,  than  which  nothing  is 
more  wide,  and  nothing  more  wild  ?  Here 
is  no  tract  to  be  followed,  no  posts  of  di- 
rection to  be  consulted,  nor  any  shepherd's 
hut  where  the  wandering  traveller  may  ask 
his  way. — Are  they  guided  by  a  pillar  of  Are 
in  the  night,  or  a  moveable  cloud  in  the  day, 
as  the  sons  of  Jacob  and  Joseph  were  es- 
corted through  the  eastern  deserts  ? — No, 
but  by  a  mean,  contemptible,  and  otherwise 
worthless  fossil. — The  apostle  James  men- 
tions it  as  a  very  observable  fact,  that  the 
"  ships,  which  are  so  great,  and  driven  of 
fierce  winds,  yet  are  turned  about  with  a 
very  small  helm  whithersoever  the  gover- 
nor Ksteth,  Jam.  iii.  4.  Is  it  not  equally 
wonderful,  that  they  should  be  led  through 
such  a  pathless  and  unmeasurable  waste  by 
so  small  an  expedient  as  the  intervention 
of  the  loadstone  ?*  Till  this  surprising  mi- 
neral was  discovered,  and  its  properties 
were  improved,  navigation  lay  in  its  cradle  ; 
was  at  best  a  mere  infant  that  crept  timor- 
ously along  the  coasts  ;  was  obliged  to  kee]) 
within  sight  of  the  shores,  and,  if  driven 
out  beyond  the  narrow  sphere  of  her  land- 
marks, could  neither  ascertain  her  situation 
nor  pursue  her  voyage.  But  thisguide^  when 
every  beacon  on  the  top  of  the  hills  is  va- 
nished from  the  acutest  ken  ;  where  no- 
thing but  .skies  are  seen  above,  and  seas 
alone  appear  below — ^tbis  guide  points  out 
the  proper  passage.  This  communicates  an 
intelligence  which  shines  clear  in  the  thickest 
darkness,  and  remains  steady  in  the  most  tem- 
pestuous agitations.  This  has'given,  not  in- 
deed birth,  but  maturity  to  navigation,  iuid 
turned  her  swaddling-bands  into  wings.  This 
has  emboldened  her  to  launch  into  the  heart 
of  the  ocean,  and  en.abled  her  to  range  from 
pole  to  pole. 

*  1  am  aw.ire  that  other  expedients  are  used  for 
shaping  a  proper  course  on  the  ocean,  such  as  making 
observations  from  the  sun  by  niathomatical  instru- 
ments. But  these,  I  believe,  are  only  subordinate  aids 
to  the  needle.  The  grand  regulator  is  the  magnet. 
1  have  heard  an  exiicnenced  sailor  declare,  he  would 
rather  be  without  his  quadrant,  than  without  hiscom- 
)>a38. 


Thus  does  God,  both  in  the  operations 
of  nature  and  the  administrations  of  provi- 
dence, accomplish  the  most  important  ends 
by  the  most  inconsiderable  means.      AVhon 
the  forinidable    Sisera  is  to  be  cut  oflf",  the 
blow  shall  be  given,   not  by  some  puissant 
champion,  but  by   the   hand  of  a  woman, 
Judg.  iv.  9.     When  Jericho  is  to  be  demo- 
lished, those  impregnable  fortifications  shall 
fall,  not  beneath  the  stroke  of  battering  en- 
gines, but  before  the  sound  of  rams'  horns. 
Josh.    vi.    3.      When  a  hundred   thousand 
Midianites  are  to  be   routed,  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  will  gain  this  signal  victory,  not  by 
numerous  legions  completely  armed,  but  by 
a  handful  of  Israelites,  accoutred  only  with 
trumpets,  lamps,  and  pitchers.  Judges  vii. 
19.       Who  would  have  thought,  that  from 
the  root  of  Jesse,  a  root  out  of  a  dry  groiuid, 
shoidd     arise     that     great     tree,     which 
"  stretches   her  boughs   unto  the  sea,  and 
herheight  unto  (he  heavens,  and  her  branches 
unto  the  ends  of  the   earth  ?"     That  the 
despised   Galilean   and  the   carpenter's  son 
shoidd  be  the  Saviour  of  the  world,  and  the 
Heir  of  all  things  ?     Nay,  that  a  person 
humbled  like  the  meanest  of  slaves,  and  ex- 
ecuted like  the  vilest  of  malefactors  ;  nail- 
ed to  a  cross,  and  laid  prostrate  among  the 
dead ;  that  he  shotdd  restore  life  and  im- 
mortality  to   ruined  siiuiers  ;  should  open 
the  gates  of  grace  and  glory  on  lost  man- 
kind?    That  a  few  illiterate  creatures,  ta- 
ken from   the  barge,  the   oar,  and  the  net, 
should  confute    philosophers,    and  convert 
kings  ;  should  overthrow  the  strong-holds  ot 
idolatry,  and  plant  Christianity  on  its  ruins  ! 
This    is  a  circumstance   which,   thougli  a 
stumbling-block  to  some  people,  has  consi- 
derably strengthened  my  faith.      It  is  per- 
fectly agreeable  to  the  Almighty's  manner. 
It  is  (if  I  may  so  speak)  the  distinguishing 
turn   of  his   hand,   and  the    peculiar  style 
of  his  works.      Whence  does  he  raise  the 
charmingly-beauteous  flowers  ?  whence  the 
magnificent  myriads  of  forest-oaks?  whence 
the  boimdless  and  inestimable  stores  of  har- 
vest?    From  principles  which  bear  not  the 

least  proportion  to  their  effects Besides, 

this  most  emphatically  speaks  the  (iod.  It 
"  shows  the  lighting  down  ot  liis  arm," 
Isa.  xx.\.  30,  and  absolutely  precludes  all 
the  pretensions  of  human  arrogance,  or  fin- 
ite power.  It  appropriates  the  honour  to 
that  supreme  agent,  before  whom  the  easy 
and  the  arduous  are  both  alike.  All  men 
that  see  it  must  confess.  This  hath  God 
done. 

Ihrougli  this  channel,  are  imported  to 
our  island  the  choice  productions,  and  the 
peculiar  treasures,  of  every  nation  under 
heaven.  So  that  we  can  breakfast  upon  a 
dissolution  of  the   American  kernel,*    and 


«  Called  tlie  cocoa,  wliicli  afTords  the  principal  iii^ 


a^ 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO, 


see  the  rich  nutrimental  liquor  froth  in  our 
cups,  without  ever  tempting  the  foaming 
brine.  We  can  steep  the  delicately-flavour- 
ed Chinese  leaf  in  the  waters  of  our  own 
well ;  or  spend  the  afternoon  in  our  own 
parlour,  and  be  regaled  with  an  infusion  of 
the  finely-scented  Arabian  berry.  We  can 
season  the  friendly  bowl  with  the  juices  of 
the  orange,  or  refresh  our  clammy  palate 
with  the  pulp  of  the  tamarind,  without  feel- 
ing that  fervent  heat  which  imparts  such  a 
poignant  relish  to  the  former,  without  suf- 
fering those  scorching  beams  which  give  a 
fever-cooling  virtue  to  the  latter.  We  can 
pile  upon  our  salvers  a  pyramid  of  Italian 
figs  ;  fill  the  interstices  with  the  sky-dried 
raisins  of  Malaga ;  and  form  a  summit  for 
the  inviting  structure  with  the  pistacia  nut 
of  Aleppo.  By  this  means,  the  eastern 
spices  exhale  their  odours  on  our  table,  and 
the  western  canes  transfuse  their  sweetness 
into  our  viands.  We  clothe  our  bodies 
with  the  vegetable  fleecee  of  the  south,*  and 
line  our  apparel  with  warm  furry  spoils  from 
the  north.  We  can  wear  the  pearl,  polish- 
ed in  the  abysses  of  the'j  Persian  gulf;  and 
walk  on  the  carpets  manufactured  in  the  do 
minions  of  the  Great  Mogul ;  yet  neither 
expose  ourselves  to  the  rage  of  boisterous 
seas,  nor  the  more  dreaded  treachery  of  a 
barbarous  people.  In  short,  by  this  grand 
and  beneficial  expedient  of  navigation,  every 
tide  conveys  into  our  ports  the  wealth  of  the 
remotest  climes,  and  brings  the  abundance 
of  the  universe  to  be  unladen  on  our  quays ; 
London  becomes  a  mart  of  nations ;  and 
almost  every  private  house  in  the  kingdom 
is  embellished  or  accommodated  from  the 
four  quarters  of  the  globe. 

Almost  eveiy  private  house — Is  not  this 
more  like  rhetorical  flourish,  than  real  truth  ? 
Aie  not  all  the  advantages  I  have  mention- 
ed the  peculiar  portion  of  the  rich  ?  Is  not 
the  sea,  like  high  life  and  the  gay  world, 
somewhat  capricious  and  partial  ?  bestow- 
ing lavishly  her  favours  on  the  wealthy,  at 
the  same  time  that  she  neglects  the  needy  ? 
Quite  the  reverse.  Like  her  most  exalted 
yet  most  condescending  Creator,  she  is  no 
respecter  of  persons.  She  deals  out  her 
liberalities  to  all ;  to  the  wealthy,  such  as 
are  suitable  to  their  circumstances  ;  to  the 
indigent,  such  as  are  best  adapted  to  their 
condition.  If  she  ornaments  the  bodies 
of  the  first,  she  employs  the  hands  of  the 
last  ;  furnishes  these  with  useful  labour, 
those  with  elegant  accommodations.  What 
a  multitude  of  industrious  people  acquire  a 


giedient  of  chocolate,  and  grows  on  a  small  tree  in 
America. 

•  (^otton,  which  is  a  sortof  wool  encompassing  the 
seed  of  a  tree.  Its  fruit  is  of  an  oval  form,  about  the 
size  of  a  nut.  As  it  ripens,  it  grows  black  on  the  out- 
side; and,  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  opens  in  several 
places,  discovering  the  cotton  through  the  clefts, 
which  Is  of  an  admirable  whiteness.  See  Chamb. 
Diet. 


livelihood  by  preparing  the  commodities  in- 
tended for  exportation  !  and  what  a  multi- 
tude of  dexterous  artificers  maintain  their 
families  by  manufactiuring  the  wares  im- 
ported from  abroad  ! 

It  is  reckoned  a  valuable  species  of  bene- 
ficence to  provide  proper  work  for  the  poor. 
This  withdraws  them  from  many  tempta- 
tions, and  preserves  them  from  much  wick- 
edness. It  hinders  them  from  being  a  bur- 
den to  themselves,  and  a  nuisance  to  the 
public.  They  might  otherwise  be  idle,  and 
as  vermin  on  the  body  politic  ;  or  even  mu- 
tinous, and  as  vipers  in  the  bowels  of  the 
nation  :  whereas,  by  exerting  themselves  in 
a  due  subordination,  and  with  becoming 
diligence,  they  are  the  very  sinews  of  the 
community  ;  or  like  the  grand  wheel  in  the 
machine  of  state,  whose  incessant  activity 
distributes  plenty,  and  pours  innumerable 
conveniences  through  the  whole.  What  a 
master  then,  or  rather  what  a  mistres.-^,  is 
the  sea  !  how  extensive  her  correspondence, 
and  how  large  her  demand  for  workmen ! 
Into  what  branch  of  trade  does  she  not  en- 
ter? What  kind  of  ingenious  science,  or 
useful  toil,  does  she  not  befriend  ?  How 
many  millions  of  honest  but  needy  persons 
are  engaged  in  her  service  ?  and  how  amply 
are  they  repaid  for  their  pains  ?  "  They 
that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  and  occu- 
py their  business  in  great  waters,  these  men 
see  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  his  wondei's 
in  the  deep."  They  also  that  dwell  among 
their  own  people,  and  abide  in  the  villages, 
even  they  enjoy  the  bounty,  and  share  tha 
advantages  of  the  ocean.  For,  though  it  is 
false  philosophy  to  suppose  the  waters  them- 
selves strained  through  subterranean  pas- 
sages into  the  inland  countries  ;  yet  it  is 
an  undeniable  truth,  that  their  beneficial 
effects  are  transfused  into  every  town,  every 
hamlet,  and  every  cottage. 

Surely  the  inhabitants  of  our  isle  have 
reason  to  turn  the  prediction  of  Moses,  con- 
cerning the  tribe  of  Joseph,  into  a  devout 
and  grateful  acknowledgment : — "  Blessed 
of  the  Lord  is"  our  land.  Blessed  with  the 
precious  things  of  heaven,  with  the  dew,  and 
with  the  deep  that  coucheth  beneath.  With 
the  precious  things  brought  forth  by  the  sun, 
and  with  the  precious  things  thrust  forth 
by  the  moon.  With  the  chief  things  of  ths 
ancient  mountains,  and  with  the  precious 
things  of  the  everlasting  hills,  and  with  the 
precious  things  of  the  earth,  and  the  fulness 
thereof."!  E)eut.  xxxiii.   13 — 16.     May  wc 


*  Is,  (so  I  would  translate  the  original,)  not  be;  in 
the  predictive,  not  precatory  form.  This  implies  a 
fulness  of  faith,  and  distinguishes  prophecy  fro  n 
prayer;  best  suits  the  extraordinary  illumination  of 
Moses ;  and  does  most  honour  to  the  omniscient  Spi- 
rit. 

t  Here  seems  to  be  an  exact  summary,  and  a  poeti- 
cal description  of  the  riches  of  nature.  The  precious 
things  of  heaven  ;  or  rain,  which  descends  from  the 
upper ;  and  dew,  which  is  formed  in  the  lower  re- 


LETTER   IX. 


891 


also  enjoy  "  the  good  will  of  liim  who  dwelt 
in  the  bush,"  Deut.  xxxiii.  lli,  and  the  grace 
of  him  who  hung  on  the  tree  !  May  the 
eternal  God  be  our  refuge,  and  his  ever- 
lasting arms  underneath  both  us  and  our 
interests  !  happy  then  wilt  thou  be,  thrice 
happy,  O  England  !  Thy  temporal  advan- 
tages, and  thy  spiritual  privileges  considered, 
it  may  be  truly  said,  "  Who,"  or  what  na- 
tion,  "  is  like  unto  thee?" 

This  for  my  country  ;  now  let  me  wish 
for  myself: 

God  of  all  worlds  !  source  and  supreme  of  things  ! 
From  whomall  life,  fiom  whom  duialion  ipriufjs! 
Intense,  O  !  let  me  Ibv  thy  glory  burn. 
Nor  fruitless  view  my  diys  and  luonths  return. 
Give  me  withwomle'r  at  thy  works  tof;!ow, 
To  grasp  thy  vision,  and  thy  truths  to  know 
O'er  tune's  tempestuous  sea  to  reach  thy  shore. 
And  live,  and  sing,  where  time  shall  be  no  more. 

You  see,  Aspasio,  I  have  been  studying 
the  volume  of  nature  ;  endeavouring  to  read 
its  capital  characters,  and  learn  some  of  its 
instructive  lessons.  The  sea  has  been  the 
page  ;  but  how  superficial  is  my  perusal,  and 
no  less  scanty  my  knowledge.  Little,  very 
iittle  have  I  seen  or  conceived,  relating  to 
those  works  of  wonder  which  the  vast  un- 
fathomable deep  contains ;  the  plants  it 
produces,  and  the  creatures  it  nourishes  ; 
its  stupendous  rocks  and  subterranean  caves; 
the  heaps  of  pearl,  which  are  its  native 
growth  ;  and  the  loads  of  gold,  which  it 
has  gained  by  shipwreck.  So  superficial 
are  my  views  of  Christ;  so  scanty  is  my 
acquaintance  with  the  gospel- 

You,  I  presume,  are  sitting  at  the  feet  of 
that  sublime  Teacher,  and  attending  to  the 
flictates  of  his  mouth,  in  "  whom  are  hid  ail 
the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge," 
Col.  ii.  3.  Let  me  promise  myself  a  com- 
munication of  your  thoughts,  as  I  have  free- 
ly transmitted  a  si)ecimcn  of  mine.  And 
I  will  make  no  scrui)Ie  to  acknowledge  the 
superiority  of  the  exchange  that  1  receive. 

\^uffiu  ^aX.Ki'iv,  iHccTO/jcSo!  c-viiapmiuv. 


Rions  of  the  firmament.  The  deep  that  coucheth  be- 
neath ;  seas,  rivers,  fountains,  wells,  which  lie  in  the 
bosom  of  the  soil;  and  are  sources  of  fertility  and 
plenty.  The  precious  things  brought  forth  by  the 
sun,  must  certainly  denote  tlie  herbs,  plants.,  trees, 
and  all  manner  of  vegetnblcs,  with  their  respective 
fruits.  The  precious  things  thrust  forth  by  the 
moon,  may  probably  refer  to  the  mineral  kingdoms; 
in  the  formation  of  which  that  ruler  of  the  nightmay 
have  a  considerable  influence.  The  moon,is  confess- 
edly the  parent  of  tides:  and  may  put  in  motion  those 
bitummous  and  saline  fluids,  which,  circulating 
through  the  iiores  of  the  earth,  and  fixing  in  beds  of 
homogeneous  matter,  arc  su|i;ii>sed  to  commence  mi- 
nerals. As  our  sacred  philosopher  has  aheadv  specifi- 
ed the  vegetable  tribes,  and  (if  I  mistake  not)'tbe  beds 
of  fossils  ;  the  prmcipal  things  of  the  mountains  and 
hills,  should  signify  the  slieei),  goats,  and  other  valu- 
al>le  annuals,  which  feed  upon  those  vast  declivities. 
Then  the  precwms  things  of  the  earth  may  express 
those  herds  of  larger  cattle,  which  have  their  pastur- 
age in  the  plains,  valleys,  and  lower  grounds.  A 
sense,  which  recommeuirs  itself  from  tins  considera- 
tion, that  the  weallh  of  the  ancients  consisted  chiel'.y 
in  cattle.  The  fulness  thereof  may  be  a  kind  of  re- 
capitulation :  a  comprehensive  term,  inciuding  the 
whole  produce  of  the  terraiiucous  glol)e;  the  majjui- 
liccnt  liberality  of  Jehovah  to  his  people. 


Or,  clonuont   Isaiah  speaks:   "For 

brass  you  will  bring  gold,  and  for  iron  you 
will  bring  silver,  Isa.  Ix.  17.  rendering  me, 
by  this  intercourse,  you  inore  obliged,  though 
it  is  scarce  possible  for  me  to  be  more  than 
I  already  am, 

Your  affectionate 

Theron. 

P.  S.  M.  Paschal,  who  was  remarkably 
fond  of  brevity,  makes  an  odd  excuse  for 
transgressing,  on  a  particular  occasion,  his 
favourite  rule.  He  entreats  his  friend  to 
pardon  the  unusual  length  of  his  epistle,  by 
assuring  him,  "  that  he  had  not  time  to 
make  itshorter."  I  cannot,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, adopt  this  philosopher's  ai)olugy. 
For  I  have  purposely  lengthened  my  letter, 
with  a  view  of  setting,  in  this  one  circum- 
stance, a  pattern  for  my  Aspasio. 


LETTER  X. 

Aspasio  to  Tup'.ron. 

Dear  Theron, — t  thank  j'ou  for  your 
letter,  because  it  entertains  and  itiijiroves 
me :  I  thank  you  for  your  postscript,  because 
it  is  my  encouragement  and  apology.  I  am 
set  down  to  write,  with  a  copious  stock  of 
materials.  It  will  be  ffir  more  diflicult  to 
contract,  than  to  enlarge.  I  must  there- 
fore acknowledge  myself  obliged  to  your 
candour  for  assigning  me  the  easier  task. 
That  prolixity  which,  in  others  might  be 
ungenteel  and  faidty,  is  in  me  an  act  of 
comjilaisance,  and  matter  of  duty. 

Tliough  absent  from  you,  I  went  with  you 
in  your  latu  ramble.  Your  descriptive  pen 
lias  made  me  ])aitaker  of  the  ideal  delight; 
may  divine  grace  enable  me  to  share  in  the 
spiritual  improvement!  When  you  display- 
ed the  beauties  of  the  morn,  breaking  forth 
from  the  obscurity  of  night;  when  you  adopt- 
ed that  noble  aspiration  from  our  philosophic 
poet,  I  could  not  forbear  adding:  "  Thus  may 
the  gracious  God,  who  commands  thelight  tO 
shine  out  of  the  midnight  darkness,  shine  into 
our  hearts  ;  and  give  that  incomparably  glo- 
rious knowledge,  the  knowledge  of  his  blessed 
Self!  which,  though  discernible  through  all 
the  tracts  of  creation,  and  derivable  from 
every  work  of  his  almighty  hand,  yet  no- 
where beams  forth  with  such  complete  and 
such  amiable  lustre  as  in  the  person  of  .Icsiis 
Christ."  2  Cor.  iv.  G.  Here  we  behold  all 
the  sublime  perfections  of  the  Deity,  not 
only  manifested  with  inimitable  spkiidour, 
but  oper;iting  for  our  own  advantage.  We 
behold  them,  as  .loh  speaks,  "for  ourselves," 
Job  xix.  27;  and  cannot  but  receive  inex- 
pressible refreuhment  and  joy  from  the  view. 

When   you  walked  beneath  the  shade  of 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


those  huge,  horrid,  and  enormous  cliffs,  both 
amused  and  alarmed  at  their  stupendous 
magnitude  and  frightful  irregularity  ;  when 
you  cast  your  eye  upon  the  wide  expanded 
surface  of  the  ocean  ;  when  you  surveyed 
the  far  more  unmeasurable  arches  of  the  sky, 
and  meditated,  in  that  awful  solitude,  on  the 
wildest  and  most  magnificent  appearances  of 
nature — 1  felt  the  same  kind  of  devout  aston- 
ishment with  yourself.  "While  the  soul  was 
wraptin  "  pensive  stillness  and  pleasing  dread, 
methought  I  heard  a  voice,  or  something  like 
a  voice,  from  the  silent  spheres,  as  well  as  from 
the  sounding  seas.  It  seemed  to  echo  back, 
what  the  mighty  angel  whom  John  saw  fly- 
ing in  the  midst  of  heaven  once  proclaim- 
ed, "  Worship  him  who  made  heaven  and 
earth,  and  the  sea,  and  the  fountains  of  wa- 
ter," Rev.  xiv.  7.  "  Worship  him,  who 
stretched  out  that  azure  pavilion  with  such 
amazing  grandeur  ;•  who  measured  yonder 
world  of  waters  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  ; 
and  before  whom  this  immense  range  of 
mountainous  cliffs  is  but  as  dust  upon  the 
scale." 

When  you  described  the  dismal  situation 
of  a  wretch  exposed  on  the  edges  of  the 
tremendous  precipice ;  hanging  over  the 
ragged  rocks  and  the  unfathomable  gulf, 
and  cleaving  only  to  a  slender  treacherous 
breaking  bough  ;  how  heartily  did  I  join  in 
youradoring  acknowledgments  to  that  kind, 
interposing,  blessed  hand,  which  rescued  us 
both  from  an  infinitely  more  threatening  and 
dreadful  danger !  rescued  us  as  slaves  from 
the  dominion  of  the  devil ;  snatched  us  as 
brands  from  the  inextinguishable  burnings ; 
and  bid  us  (O  marvellous  superabundant 
goodness  !)  bid  us  possess  the  liberty  of 
righteousness,  bid  us  inherit  the  kingdom 
of  heaven. 

When  you  mention  the  past  indolence, 
and  the  present  fervour  of  your  prayers,  1 
could  not  forbear  reiterating  my  praises  to 
God  on  your  behalf.  This  is  a  proof, 
my  dear  Theron,  that  you  are  going  in  the 
way  everlasting ;  for  it  is  written,  "  They 
shall  come  with  weeping,  and  with  suppli- 
cations  will  1  lead  them."  Jer.  xxxi.  9 — 
This  is  the  work  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  dwell- 
ing in  your  heart ;  for  what  saith  the  Scrip- 
ture ?  "  1  will  pour  upon  them  the  spirit  of 
grace  and  of  supplication."  Zech.  xii.  10. 
And  our  Lord  himself  mentions  this  as  the 
indication  of  a  true  conversion  :  "  Behold 
he  prayeth."  Acts  ix.  11.  Had  not  Saul 
prayed  before  ?  Yes  ;  and  made  long  pray- 
ers too.  But  he  never,  till  that  instant, 
was  sensible  of  his  undone  and  damnable 
condition  ;  never  cried  to  God  from  the 
depths  of  his  distress,  or  from  the  depths  of 
his  heart ;  nor  ever  solicited  the  throne  of 
grace,  in  the  all-prevailing  name  of  Jesus 
Christ.  His  prayers,  till  then,  were  some- 
what like  the  motes,  which  fluctuate  to  and 


fro  in  the  air,  without  any  vigorous  impulse, 
or  any  certain  aim  ;  but,  in  that  hour,  they 
were  like  the  arrow,  which  springs  from  the 
strained  bow,  and,  quick  as  lightning,  flies 
to  the  mark. 

I  was  pleased  to  find  you,  in  the  process 
of  your  letter,  insensibly  forgetting  the  nar- 
rative, and  so  engaged  by  the  subject,  that 
you  spoke  not  as  the  relator,  but  as  the  be- 
holder. Thus  may  we  always  be  affected, 
when  we  study  the  oracles  of  truth — study 
them,  not  as  cold  unconcerned  critics,  who 
are  only  to  judge  of  their  meaning,  but  as 
persons  deeply  interested  in  all  they  contain; 
who  are  particularly  addressed  in  every  ex- 
hortation, and  directed  by  every  precept ; 
whose  are  the  promises,  and  to  whom  be- 
long the  precious  privileges.  When  we  are 
enabled  thus  to  realize  and  appropriate  the 
contents  of  that  invaluable  book,  then  we 
shall  taste  the  sweetness,  and  feel  the  pow- 
er of  the  Scriptures.  Then  we  shall  know, 
by  happy  experience,  that  our  divine  Mas- 
ter's words  are  not  barely  sounds  and  syl- 
lables, but  "  they  are  spirit,  and  they  are 
life."  John  vi.  63. 

I  was  still  more  agreeably  entertained 
with  your  picture  of  commerce,  and  of  the 
advantages  we  receive  from  navigation.  One 
advantage,  however,  I  can  specify,  which  is 
greater  than  any,  greater  than  all  you  have 
celebrated ;  an  advantage,  which  will  en- 
dear and  ennoble  navigation,  so  long  as  the 
sun  and  moon  endure.  The  gospel,  my 
dear  friend,  the  glorious  gospel  came  to  our 
island  through  this  channel.  The  volume 
that  comprises  it,  and  the  preacher  that  pub- 
lished it,  both  were  imported  by  shipping. 
And  may  we  not  say  with  the  enraptured 
Isaiah,  "  How  beautiful  are  the  feet  of  them 
that  bring  good  tidings  ;  that  publish  peace  ; 
that  bring  good  tidings  of  good  ;  that  publish 
salvation;  that  say  unto  Zion,  thy  God  reign- 
eth  ?•  Isa.  lii.  7.  It  is  pleasant  to  hear  their 
voice,  pleasant  to  contemplate  their  message, 
and  pleasant  even  to  behold  the  ground  on 
which  they  trod,  or  the  very  waves  over 
which  they  sailed.  This  made  the  holy 
prophet  rejoice  in  spirit,  when  he  foresaw 


*  Never  did  language  bespeak  an  enra])tiired  soul 
moresigniflcanily  than  this  sacred  exclamation.  The 
prophet  is  all  wonder  and  all  joy.  He  isso  enamour- 
ed with  his  subject,  and  so  captivated  with  the  glory 
of  the  gospel,  that  he  can  never  say  enough  of  its  ex- 
cellencies. Good  tidings;  the  very  best  that  earth 
could  receive,  or  heaven  proclaim.  Good  tidings  of 
good ;  a  most  comprehensive  good ;  a  collection  of 
every  blsssing;  or  all  good  thir.gs  in  one.  Publish 
peace;  peace  with  God,  the  everlasting  King;  and 
that  sweet  peace  of  conscience  which  the  world  can- 
not give.  Publish  salvation;  or  that  gift  of  righte- 
ousness which  is  the  meritorious  cause,  together  with 
Ihesuiritof  liberty  and  spirit  of  adoption,  which  are 
the  rich  and  grand  constituents  of  salvation.  That 
say  imto  Zion,  thy  God  reigneth ;  not  sin  and  Satan, 
not  lust  and  appetite,  oppressive  tyrants,  and  worse 
than  Kgvptian  task-masters:  but  the  all-wise  and  m- 
iinitelv  [gracious  Jehovah :  he,  even  he  sctteth  up  his 
pure,  his  peaceful,  his  spiritual  kingdom,  in  the  be- 
liever's heart,  in  the  Gentile  nations,  and  in  all  lands. 


LETTER  X. 


393 


the  extensive  spread  of  his  Master's  glory, 
and  the  certain  commencement  of  our  hap- 
piness. This  put  into  his  mouth  that  af- 
fectionate and  congratulatory  address,  which, 
in  a  very  particular  manner,  is  directed  to 
us  and  our  countrymen  :  "  Sing  unto  the 
Lord  a  new  song,  and  his  praise  from  the 
ends  of  the  earth  ;  ye  that  go  down  to  the 
sea,  and  all  that  is  therein  ;  ye  isles,  and  the 
inhabitants  thereof.  Let  the  wilderness 
and  the  cities  thereof  lift  up  their  voice  ;  let 
the  inhabitants  of  the  rock  sing,  let  them 
shout  from  the  top  of  the  mountains  !  Let 
them  give  glory  unto  the  Lord  ;  and  declare 
his  praise  in  the  islands  !"  Isa.  xlii.  10 — 12 

We  read,  in  Ezekiel,  of  the  most  magni- 
ficent fieet  that  ever  ploughed  the  seas.  The 
masts  were  of  cedar,  Ezek.  xxvii.  5,  &c.  and 
the  benches  of  ivory.  Fine  linen,  beautified 
with  embroidery  floated  to  the  winds,  and 
formed  the  savJs.  Blue  and  purple  rigged 
the  vessel,  and  clothed  the  meanest  mariner. 
Let  us  suppose,  that  the  freight  of  this 
splendid  navy  was  proportioned  in  value  to 
its  sumptuous  tackling.  Yet  how  jioor,  how 
despicable  were  either,  were  both,  if  esti- 
mated with  the  treasures  of  the  gospel  ; 
those  divine  treasures,  which  spring  from 
the  imputation  of  our  Redeemer's  righteous- 
ness, and  which  have  much  the  same  kind- 
ly influence  on  religious  practice,  as  naviga- 
tion, with  aU  her  improvements,  has  upon 
traffic !  Give  me  leave  to  confirm  this 
assertion,  by  selecting  a  few  instances,  and 
applying  them  in  a  few  interrogatories. 

One  of  the  benefits  proceeding  from  the 
imputation  of  Christ's  righteousness,  is  par- 
don :  pardon,  not  partial,  but  complete  ; 
a  pardon  of  each  sin,  be  it  ever  so  heinous  ; 
a  pardon  of  all  sins,  be  they  ever  so  numer- 
ous. For  thus  saith  God  the  Lord,  who 
sent  both  his  prophets  and  apostles,  preach- 
ing peace  by  "  Jesus  Christ,  I  will  pardon 
all  their  iniquities,  whereby  they  have  sin- 
ned and  whereby  they  have  transgressed 
against  me,  Jer.  xxxiii.  8.  To  learn  the  de- 
sirable nature  of  this  blessing,  let  us  step 
back  into  the  ainials  of  history,  and  attend  a 
traitorous  unhappy  nobleman  to  his  vindic- 
tive exit.  His  body  is  demanded  by  the 
ministers  of  justice.  Reluctant  and  trem- 
bling he  is  conducted  to  the  scaflTold.  There 
the  alarmed  criminal  sees  the  mourning 
block,  sees  the  glittering  axe,  sees  the  cof- 
fin prepared  for  his  corpse,  sees  thousands 
of  anxious  spectators,  waiting  with  eager 
looks  and  throlibing  hearts,  the  fearful  catas- 
trophe. In  a  word,  he  sees  death  advancing 
vith  all  the  solemnities  of  horror  and  wo. 
Time  elapses.  The  preparatory  ceremonies 
are  despatched-  The  fatal  moment  is  ar- 
rived. No  longer  resjjite  can  be  allowed- 
He  must  submit  to  immediate  execution. 
Accordingly  he  prostrates  himself  to  receive 
the  stroke  j  but,  seized  with  new  terrors  at 


the  poised  axe  and  approaching  blow,  he 
starts  from  the  dangerous  posture.  Again 
he  bends,  and  again  snatches  his  neck  from 
the  impending  edge.  A  third  time  he  lifts 
ills  ])ale  countenance  to  the  pitying  crowds 
and  departing  light.  Once  more  he  bows 
to  the  block  and  once  more  raises  his  head, 
in  wishful  expectation  of  the  royal  cle- 
mency. Had  a  messenger  appeared,  at  the 
critical  instant,  with  a  shout  of  joy  upon  his 
tongue,  and  a  sealed  pardon  in  his  hand, 
O  !  how  transporting  the  news  !  inexpressi- 
bly welcome  the  favour  ! — What  was  denied 
to  his  passionate  desires,  denied  to  the  im- 
portunate solicitations  of  his  friends,  is  fiee- 
ly  offered  to  us  in  the  gospel  of  Christ ;  a 
pardon  of  infinitely  higher  consequence., 
which  obliterates  millions  and  millions  of 
rebellious  acts  ;  which  extends  its  blessed 
effects  not  merely  through  the  little  span  of 
life,  but  beyond  the  gates  of  the  grave — be- 
yond the  boundaries  of  time — through  all 
the  ages  of  eternity. 

How  unfaihomable  is  that  immense  flood, 
on  which  my  Theron  lately  exercised  his 
contemplation  !  The  toiling  plummets,  with 
all  their  length  of  cordage,  are  unable  to  find 
a  bottom.  Were  the  hugest  millstones,  or 
the  highest  towers,  or  the  most  spacious  ci- 
ties, cast  into  that  prodigious  gulf,  they 
would  be  totally  overwhelmed,  and  irrecover- 
ably lost.  Therefore  the  inspired  prophet, 
to  show  the  boundless  extent  of  the  divine 
mercies  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  denote  the 
fulness  of  their  pardon  who  are  cleansed  in 
the  Redeemer's  blood,  hath  illustrated  both 
by  this  grand  similitude  :  "  Thou  wilt  cast 
all  their  sins  into  the  depths  of  the  sea," 
Mic.  vii.  19  ;  not  one,  or  a  few,  but  all 
their  sins  ;  not  barely  behind  thy  back,  but; 
into  the  sea;  and  not  into  the  shallow  parts, 
but  in  the  very  depths  of  the  ocean  ;  so  that 
they  shall  never  rise  up  in  judgment — ne- 
ver be  taken  notice  of,  no,  nor  ever  be  re- 
membered any  more- 

With  an  act  of  total  indemnity,  let  us 
join  a  thorough  restoration  to  favour.  If 
the  wrath  of  an  earthly  king  be  as  "  the  roar- 
ing of  a  lion,"  Prov-  xix-  12,  how  much 
more  tremendous  is  his  indignation  who  is 
able  to  cast  both  body  and  soul  into  hell  ! 
If  the  favour  of  an  earthly  sovereign  be  "  as 
dew  upon  the  grass,"  how  much  more  de- 
sirable and  delightful  his  loving-kindness, 
whom  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  obey  ! 
By  the  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ,  we 
are  freed  from  all  foreboding  apprehensions 
of  the  former,  and  established  in  the  com- 
fortable posses^ion  of  the  latter.  The  gos- 
pel renews  aiul  ratifies  that  joyful  proclama- 
tion of  the  angelic  host,  "  Peace  on  eaith, 
atid  good-will  to  men,"  Luke  ii.  li.  God 
is  not  only  pacified  toward  believers,  but 
well  pleased  with  them  in  his  dear  Son. 
Tlicy  are  the  objects  of  his  complaccntial 


394 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


delight, and  he  rejoices  over  them  to  do  them 
good. 

Nay,  they  are  made  children,  "  sons  and 
daughters  of  the  Lord  Almighty,"  2  Cor. 
vi.  18.  and  if  sons,  "  then  heirs  of  God,  and 
joint  heirs  with  Christ,"  Rom.  viii.  17.  The 
chief  captain  mentioned  in  the  Acts  pur- 
chased his  freedom  of  the  imperial  city  Rome 
with  a  great  sum  of  money.  Acts  xxii.  28. 
If  such  a  little  transient  immunity  was  so 
valuable  in  his  esteem,  who  can  express  the 
worth,  who  can  conceive  the  dignity,  of  this 
divine  adoption  ?  Yet  it  belongs  to  those 
who  receive  the  gospel,  and  are  interested 
in  Christ.  They  have  access  to  the  Omni- 
potent Being,  such  free  and  welcome  access 
as  a  beloved  child  to  an  indulgent  father. 
To  him  they  may  fly  for  aid  in  every  diffi- 
culty ;  and  from  him  obtain  a  supply  in  ail 
their  wants.  God,  as  the  sacred  charter 
runs,  "  is  their  God."  All  his  lovely,  all 
his  adorable  perfections,  are  their  glorious 
inheritance,  and  exceeding  great  reward. 
That  eternal  power,  to  which  nothing  is  im- 
possible, exerts  itself  as  their  guard ;  and 
that  unerring  wisdom,  from  which  nothing 
is  concealed,  acts  as  their  guide.  His  very 
justice  is  no  longer  an  incensed  adversary, 
demanding  vengeance  or  meditating  des- 
truction J  but  a  faithful  guarantee,  to  pro- 
vide for  the  punctual  execution  of  the  Re- 
deemer's treaty,  and  their  complute  enjoy- 
ment of  its  various  blessings.  What  a  pri- 
vilege is  this  !  Rather,  what  a  cluster  of 
privileges  is  here  !  Weigh  the  kingdoms  of 
the  world,  cast  all  the  glories  of  them  into 
the  scale  ;  and  they  will  be  found,  when 
compared  with  these  divine  prerogatives, 
emptier  than  the  bubble  that  bursts,  lighter 
than  the  spark  that  expires. 

In  the  gospel  are  given  exceeding  great 
and  precious  promises  -.  Of  such  value,  that 
they  were  procured  by  the  blood  of  Christ ; 
of  such  certainty,  that  they  are  ratified  by 
the  oath  of  Jehovah,  Heb.  vi.  17.  So  dur- 
able, that  though  "  all  flesh  is  grass,  and  all 
the  goodliness  thereof  as  the  flower  of  the 
grass,  this  word  of  our  God  abideth  for  ever," 
I  Pet.  i.  23  ;  so  efticacious,  that  there  are 
no  such  cordials  to  revive  our  fainting,  and 
no  such  bulwarks  to  secure  our  endangered 
souls.  With  these  the  Bible  is  as  richly 
replenished  as  the  clear  midnight  sky  is 
bespangled  with  stars.  They  "  are  all  yea 
and  amen,"  consigned  over  as  a  sure  unalien- 
able portion,  "  to  them  that  are  in  Jesus 
Christ."  2  Cor.  i-  20. 

Another  benefit,  given  in  consequence  of 
the  Redeemer's  righteousness,  is  the  sanc- 
tifying Spirit.  A  most  comprehensive  bless 
ing  this  !  Our  Saviour  intimates,  that  it 
mcludes  every  heavenly  gift,  is  an  assem- 
blage of  all  good  things.*      How  singular  a 


Compare  Matth.  vii.  U.  with  Luke  xi.  13. 


comfort  must  it  be  to  blind  Barlimeus  to 
have  his  eyes  opened,  and  behold  the  all- 
cheering  light  of  the  sun,  Mark  x.  52.  So,and 
far  more  comfortable,  are  the  enlightening 
influences  of  the  blessed  Spirit,  when  they 
shine  upon  the  wretched  creature  who  sits 
in  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death.  How 
peculiar  a  mercy  for  the  impure  and  abhor- 
red leper,  to  be  healed  of  his  inveterate  dis- 
ease !  to  feel  the  soothing  sensations  of  ease, 
where  sores  rankled  and  pain  raged  !  In- 
stead of  enfeebling  languors  and  loathsome 
deformity,  vigour  braces  his  limbs,  and  come- 
liness blooms  in  his  countenance,  Matth. 
viii.  3.  Equally  benign,  and  equally  salubri- 
ous, is  the  ageney  of  the  divine  Spirit  on 
our  depraved,  polluted,  sensual  minds.  How 
signal  was  the  recovery,  and  how  welcome 
the  change  ;  when  that  unhappy  creature, 
so  wildly  agitated  by  a  mischievous  demon, 
was  reinstated  in  the  peaceful  possession  of 
himself  and  his  faculties  !  when,  instead  of 
unnaturally  cutting  his  own  flesh,  or  com- 
mitting barbarous  outrages  on  innocent  tra- 
vellers, he  sat  composed  and  attentive  at 
the  feet  of  Jesus,  Mark  v.  15,  receiving 
heavenly  instruction  from  his  lips,  and  learn- 
ing the  meekness  of  wisdom  fi'om  his  ex- 
ample. So  salutary  and  beneficial  is  the 
transforming  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  the 
Comforter  ;  softening  the  rugged,  sweeten- 
ing the  morose,  and  calming  the  passionate 
temper.  It  is  undoubtedly  the  utmost  im- 
provement, and  the  highest  happiness  of  our 
nature,  to  have  the  image  of  the  blessed 
God  rcinstamped  on  our  hearts.  This  is 
an  earnest,  and  an  anticipation  also  of  end- 
less felicity  ;  a  bud  v^■hich  will  open  in  hea- 
ven, and  sjjread  into  immortal  glory;  a  dawn, 
which  will  shine  more  and  more,  till  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness  arises,  and  bi  ightens 
it  into  everlasting  day.  This  bud  the  sanc- 
tifying Spirit  ingrafts,  this  dawn  the  grace 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  diffuses  in  the  bar- 
ren and  benighted  soul. 

In  a  word,  receive  this  righteousness,  and 
you  have  a  title  to  all  blessings,  whether 
they  be  present  or  future,  bodily  or  sj/iri- 
tual,  temporal  or  eternal.  From  the  ne- 
cessary conveniences  of  bread  to  eat  and 
raiment  to  put  on,  even  to  the  crowns  of 
glory  and  the  fulness  of  joy,  all,  all  are 
owing  to  our  Redeemer's  righteousness. 
You  see  now,  Theron,  that  our  scheme  has 
no  tendency  to  impoverish  your  sjiiritual 
condition,  or  diminish  your  true  riches,  any 
more  than  those  tracts  of  water  which  sur- 
round our  island  are  detrimental  to  the  wealth 
of  its  inhabitants.  Detrimental!  No;  they 
are  an  inexhaustible  source  of  treasure. 
They  convey  to  our  use  the  choicest  accom- 
modations, and  the  most  elegant  delights  ; 
such  as  would  in  vain  be  cx])ectcd,  if  the 
whole  ocean  was  converted  into  the  finest 
meads  ami  most  fertile  pastures.     So— but 


LETTER   X. 


393 


to  apply  this  comparison,   would   forestall 
your  principal  question. 

"  Do  not  these  favours,  though  unspeak- 
ably precious  in  themselves,  tend  to  the  in- 
troduction or  support  of  ungodliness  ?"' — 
Quite  the  reverse.  Have  we  redemption 
through  our  Saviour's  blood,  even  the  forgive- 
ness of  our  sins  ?  We  are  redeemed,  not 
that  we  may  sink  in  supineness,  or  launch 
into  licentiousness,  but  that  we  may  be  a 
"  peculiar  people  zealous  of  good  works." 
Tit.  ii.  lii.  Are  we  made  the  children  of 
God?  Then  "let  our  light  so  shine  before 
men,  that  others,  seeing  our  good  works, 
may  glorify  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 
Matt.  V.  16.  This  is  the  genuine  conse- 
quence of  such  a  doctrine,  and  the  proper 
effect  of  such  a  benefit-  Are  we  vested 
with  sacred  privileges  ?  These  admonish  us, 
these  urge  us,  to  walk  worthy  of  him  "  who 
bath  called  us  to  his  kingdom  and  glory." 
1  Thess.  ii.  12.  Shall  the  citizens  of  hea- 
ven be  animated  with  no  higher  views  than 
the  slaves  of  appetite  and  drudges  of  the 
world  ?  Are  we  constituted  heirs  of  the 
promises  ?  The  grace  which  they  ascertain 
is  intended  to  make  us  partakers  of  a  divine 
nature,  2  Pet.  i.  4,  and  the  encouragement 
which  they  administer  incites  us  to  cleanse 
ourselves  from  all  filthiness  of  flesh  and 
spirit,  incites  us  to  perfect  holiness  in  the 
fear  of  God.  2  Cor  vii.  1.  Such  high  im- 
munities are  a  most  endearing  persuasive, 
not  to  disgrace,  but  magnify — not  to  pro- 
voke, but  please — their  unspeakably  benefi- 
cent author. 

I  might  farther  observe,  that  holi- 
ness is  one  of  the  most  distinguished  bless- 
ings in  our  system  ;  nay,  is  the  very  central 
blessing,  to  which  all  the  others  verge,  in 
which  they  all  terminate.  Were  we  chosen 
from  eternity  ?  It  was  for  this  purpose, 
that  we  may  "  be  holy  and  unblamable  in 
love."  Eph.  i.  4.  Are  we  called  in  time? 
It  is  to  this  intent,  that  we  may  "  show  forth 
the  praises  of  Kim  who  hath  called  us  out 
of  darkness  into  his  marvellous  light."  1  Pet. 
ii.  9.  Are  we  "  created  again  in  Christ 
Jesus  ?"  It  is,  to  capacitate  us  for  acceptable 
service,  and  to  furnish  us  unto  every  good 
work,  Eph.  ii.  10.  "  I  will  put  my  spirit 
within  you,  saith  the  Lord."  For  what 
end  ?  "  That  ye  may  walk  in  my  statutes, 
and  keep  ray  judgments,  and  do  them." 
Ezek.  xxxvi.  27.  Here  comes  in  my  The- 
ron's  favourite  endowment — sincere  obedi- 
ence. Far,  very  far  from  discarding  sincere 
obedience,  we  would  only  introduce  it  under 
its  due  character,  and  in  its  proper  order. 
Under  its  due  character ;  as  the  fruit,  not 
the  cause,  of  our  interest  in  Christ's  right- 
eousness :  111  its  line  order  ;  as  following, 
not  preceding  the  gift  of  justification. 

These  privileges,  my  dear  friend,  arc  sa- 
lutary as  the  pool  of  liethesda.     John  v.  4. 


Theyare  restorative  as  the  waters  of  Siloam. 
John  ix.  7,  or  like  that  sacred  stream  flow- 
ing from  the  sanctuary,  which  healed  the 
rivers,  healed  the  sea,  and  made  even  the 
desert  flourish.  Ezek.  xlvii.  8,  9.  If  jus- 
tification by  the  righteousness  of  Christ  had 
a  tendency  to  subvert  the  foundation  of  ho- 
liness, to  confirm  the  hypocritical  professor 
in  his  neglect  of  moral  duties,  or  discourage 
the  sincere  convert  from  the  pursuit  of  real 
virtue  ;  it  would,  doubtless,  be  unworthy  of 
any  acceptation,  or  rather,  worthy  of  um'- 
versal  abhorrence.  But  I  dare  appeal,  not 
only  to  the  nature  of  the  doctrine,  and  the 
reason  of  things,  but  to  the  experience  of 
all ; — yes,  of  all  who  "  have  tasted  that  the 
Lord  is  gracious."  1  Pet.  ii.  3.  "  Speak, 
ye  who  are  enabled  to  believe,  that  God  is 
reconciled ;  has  received  the  all-satisfying 
atonement,  and  placed  his  Son's  righteous- 
ness  to  your  account !  that  he  regards  you 
as  his  children,  and  will  receive  you  to  his 
glory  !  Have  you  not,  under  such  convictions, 
felt  your  hearts  exulting  with  conscious  joy  ; 
and  every  power  of  your  souls  springing 
forward  to  glorify  your  heavenly  Father — 
glorify  him  by  every  instance  of  obedience, 
fidelity,  and  zeal  ?" 

Can  such  invaluable  benefits  have  a  pre- 
judicial influence  on  our  practice,  if  to  the 
consideration  of  their  superlative  worth,  we 
add  that  unequalled  price  by  which  they 
were  purchased  ?  He  who  is  high  above 
all  height,  humbled  himself  to  be  made  of 
a  woman,  and  born  in  a  stable  ;  that  we 
might  be  admitted  into  the  family  of  God, 
and  exalted  to  the  mansions  of  heaven. 
And  will  this  great  humiliation,  which  is 
the  basis  of  our  happiness,  prompt  us  to 
look  down  with  contempt  on  others,  or  en- 
tertain arrogant  thoughts  of  ourselves  ? 

The  Only  Begotten  and  the  supreme  de- 
light of  the  leather,  was  numbered  with 
transgressors  and  ranked  with  felons,  that 
we  might  be  joined  to  the  innumerable  com- 
pany of  angels,  and  associated  with  saints 
in  glory  everlasting.  And  will  any  one 
make  this  a  precedent  or  a  plea  for  "walk- 
ing in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly  ;  for  stand- 
ing in  the  way  of  sinners  ;  or  sitting  in  the 
seat  of  the  scornful?"  Psalm  i.  1. 

All  manner  of  evil  was  spoken  of  the 
faultless  Jesus  ;  his  blessed  name  was  vili- 
fied  by  bhispheniing  tongues,  and  his  un- 
blamable conduct  blackened  with  the  foul- 
est aspersions  ;  on  jjurpose  that  we  may  be 
api)lauded  when  we  aie  judged,  and  each 
hear  those  transporting  words,  "  WeW  done 
thou  good  and  faithful  servant !"  Matt.  xxv. 
21.  Will  this  embolden  us  to  dishonour 
our  Lord  and  stain  our  holy  profession  ? 
Shall  we  from  hence  be  induced  to  open 
the  mouths  of  his  enemies,  and  furnish  them 
with  occasion  to  speak  leproachi'ully  ? 

He  went,  galled  witii  the  lashes  of  the 


396 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


scourge,  and  penetrated  with  the  pungent  j 
thorns  ;  he  went,  loaded  witli  the  execra-  | 
ble  cross,  and   marking  the  way  with  his  j 
precious  blood  ;  thus  he  went  to  his  igno- 
minious and  tormenting  exit,  that  we  may 
enter  into  Zion  with   songs  of  triumph  on 
our  lips,  and  with  everlasting  joy  on  our 
heads.     Does  this  invite  us  to  go,  crowned 
with  rosebuds,  to  the  house  of  riot ;  or  go, 
muffled  in  disguise,  to  the  midnight  revel  ? 
Will  it  not  rather  incline   us  to  sit  down  at 
his  pierced  feet,  and  bathe  them  with  our 
tears,   and  take  delight*   in   mourning  for 
our  crucified  Lord  ? 

Behold  !  he  hangs  on  the  cursed  tree. 
There,  there  he  hangs ;  rent  with  wounds, 
and  racked  with  pain.  He  pours  his  groans, 
and  spills  his  blood.  He  bows  his  head, 
his  patient,  princely  head,  and  dies — aston- 
ishing, ravishing  consideration  !  he  dies  for 
you  and  me.  And  will  this  harden  our 
hearts,  or  arm  our  hands,  to  crucify  him 
afresh  by  any  allowed  iniquity?  Does  not 
reason  suggest,  and  Christianity  dictate,  atid 
ail  that  is  ingenious  enforce  the  apostle's 
important  inference  ?  "  If  one  died  for  all, 
then  they  which  live  should  not  henceforth 
live  unto  themselves,  but  unto  him  which 
died  for  them,"  2  Cor.  v.  15,  16. 

He  thought  upon  us  long  before  the 
foundations  of  the  world  were  laid  ;  he  re- 
members lis,  now  he  is  exalted  to  the  right 
band  of  the  majesty  in  the  heavens  ;  and 
will  never,  never  forget  us,  through  all  the 
revolutions  of  eternity.  And  is  this  a  mo- 
tive to  forget  his  name,  to  disregard  his 
word,  or  to  imitate  the  shameful  neutrality 
and  indifference  of  Gallio?  Impressed  with 
a  sense  of  this  invariable  and  everlasting 
kindness,  surely  we  shall  declare  ourselves 
as  those  captives  in  Babylon  concerning 
their  dear  native  city  Jerusalem  ;  "  If  I 
forget  thee,"  O  blessed  Jesus,  "let  my 
right  hand  forget  her  cunning;  if  I  do  not 
remember  thee,  let  my  tongue  cleave  to  the 
roof  of  my  mouth,"  Psalm  cxxxvii.  5,  6. 
■  Remember  thee  ! 


Ay,  my  dear  Lord,  while  memory  holds  a  seat 
In  this  devoted  breast — Remember  thee! 
Ves,  from  the  table  of  my  memory 
I'll  wipe  away  all  trivial  fond  records, 
Which  youth  and  observation  copied  there. 
And  thy  remembrance  all  alone  shall  live 
Within  the  book  and  volume  of  my  brain. 

Shakspeare. 

Is  it  possible,  Theron,  for  the  contem- 
plation of  such  goodness  to  weaken  the 
motives,  or  relax  the  springs  of  obedi- 
ence ?  As  soon  may  lenient  balms  kill,  and 


•  The  sorrow  arising  from  such  tender  and  grate- 
ful views  of  the  crucified  Jesus,  is  that  evangelical 
godly  sorrow,  which  "  worketh  repentance  unlo  sal- 
vation not  to  be  repented  of,"  2  Cor.  vii.  ll>.  And  is 
there  not  reason,— when  we  consider  the  pains  he  felt, 
the  curse  he  bore,  and  thebloodlieshed— isthorenot 
abundant  reason  to  say  with  Homer's  afflicted  hero, 
Tira^truf^iff^a  ya^io? IHad  V. 


rankest  poisons  cure-  Is  such  a  belief  cal- 
culated to  discourage  duty,  and  patronize 
licentiousness  ?  Just  as  much  as  vernal 
showers  are  fitted  to  cleave  the  earth  with 
chinks,  or  summer  suns  to  glaze  the  waters 
with  ice.  When  Antony  made  an  oration 
to  the  soldiers  on  occasion  of  Ciesar's  death  j 
when  he  showed  them  their  honoured  mas- 
ter's robe,  transfixed  with  so  many  daggers  ; 
when  he  reminded  them  of  the  victories 
they  had  won  under  their  assassinated  com- 
mander ;  when  he  farther  informed  them, 
that  their  murdered  general  had  remembered 
them  in  his  will,  had  bequeathed  all  his  fine 
gardens  and  beautiful  walks  to  their  use  and 
delight ; — heavens  !  how  they  took  fire  ! 
Revenge  sparkled  in  their  eyes  ;  revenge 
flamed  in  their  bosoms ;  revenge  was  all 
their  cry.  They  flew  to  the  houses  of  the 
conspirators  ;  laid  tliem  even  with  the 
ground ;  and,  had  they  met  the  owners, 
would  have  torn  them  limb  from  limb.  Some 
such  resentment  against  sin  will  a  sense  of 
our  adored  Redeemer's  sufferings  excite; 
especially  when  set  home  by  his  blessed 
Spirit,  and  considered  in  coimexion  with 
those  detestable  iniquities  which  caused 
them,  and  with  those  invaluable  blessings 
which  were  procured  by  them.  Nothing, 
nothing  is  so  effectual  to  beget  the  most  ir- 
reconcilable abhorrence  of  all  ungodliness, 
to  make  the  remembrance  of  it  bitter  as 
wormwood,  the  temptations  to  it  hon'ible  as 
hell. 

Let  me  remind  you  of  an  incident  related 
by  your  favourite  historian  Xenophon.  Cy- 
rus had  taken  captive  the  young  prince  of 
Armenia,  together  with  his  beautiful  and 
blooming  princess,  whom  he  had  lately  mar- 
ried, and  of  whom  he  was  passionately  fond. 
When  both  were  brought  to  the  tribunal, 
Cyrus  asked  the  prince,  what  he  would  give 
to  be  reinstated  in  his  kingdom  ?  He  an- 
swered, with  an  air  of  indiflference,  "  That 
as  for  his  crown,  and  his  own  liberty,  he 
valued  them  at  a  very  low  rate :  But,  if 
Cyrus  would  restore  his  beloved  princess  to 
her  native  dignityand  hereditary  possessions, 
he  should  infinitely  rejoice  ;  and  would  pay, 
(this  he  uttered  with  tenderness  and  ardour), 
would  willingly  pay  his  life  for  the  purchase-" 
Could  such  a  declaration,  so  highly  endear- 
ing, alienate  the  affections  of  the  princess, 
or  induce  her  to  violate  her  fidelity  ?  Let 
her  own  conduct  answer  the  query.  When 
all  the  prisoners  were  dismissed  with  free- 
dom, it  is  impossible  to  express  how  they 
were  charmed  with  their  royal  benefactor. 
Some  celebrated  his  martial  accomplish- 
ments ;  some  applauded  his  social  virtues  ; 
all  were  i)rodigal  of  their  praises,  and  lavish 
in  grateful  acknowledgments.  And  you, 
said  the  prince,  (addressing  himself  to  his 
I)iidi')i  what  think  you  of  Cyrus  ?  I  did  not 
obsenc  him,  replied  the  princess.    Not  ob^ 


LETTER  X. 

serve  bim  !  tJpon  what  then  was  your  at- 
tention fixed  ?  Upon  that  dear  and  ge- 
nerous man  who  declared,  "  he  would 
purchase  my  liberty  at  the  expense  of  his 
very  life."*  Was  her  heart  impressed,  were 
all  her  thoughts  engrossed  by  that  l)pnevo- 
lent  offer  ?  And  shall  ours  be  less  affected 
with  the  incomparably  more  tender  and  en- 
dearing love  of  Christ  ?  He  was  not  only 
willing,  but  actually  laid  down  his  life  for 
us;  a  life  immensely  precious,  and  of  higher 
dignity  than  all  heavens.  He  laid  down  his 
life,  not  for  amiable  persons  or  worthy  crea- 
tures, but  for  vile  earth,  and  miserable  sin- 
ners ;  purchasing  thereby  for  us  and  our 
children,  privileges  of  inestimable  worth  and 
of  everlasting  duration. 

Will  not  such  beneficence,  so  unmerited, 
so  unequalled,  win  the  most  reluctant,  and 
melt  the  most  obdurate  heart  ?  The  heart  j 
w-hich  is  not  wrought  upon  by  this  miracle  j 
of  divine  compassion,  must  be  steel,  must 
be  adamant — quite  impenetrable,  and  abso- 
lutely incorrigible.  "  O  thou  ever-blessed, 
thou  all-gracious  Redeemer,  '  thy  love  to  us 
is  wonderful  ;  passing,'  1  will  not  say,  '  the 
love  of  women,'  2  Sam.  i.  26,  but  the  power 
of  language  and  the  reach  of  thought !  Who 
can  hold  out  against  such  charming  attrac- 
tives?  who  can  resist  such  heavenly  good- 
mess  ?  Only  let  a  sense  of  tby  love  be 
always  warm,  always  operative  on  our  minds. 
This  shall  be  instead  of  a  thousand  argu- 
ments to  engage,  instead  of  ten  thou=aiid 
motives  to  quicken  our  obedience."  Other 
motives  may  produce  external  services,  or 
hypocritical  performances  ;  terrors  may  ex- 
tort the  drudgery  of  the  hand,  bribes  may 
purchase  the  adulation  of  the  tongue  ;  but 
this  conciliates  the  will,  this  proselytes  the 
affections,  this  captivates  the  soul,  and  makes 
all  its  powers  "  like  the  chariots  of  Amina- 
dab,"  Cant.  vi.  12,  ready,  expedite,  and  ac- 
tive in  duty. 

Hear  the  holy  apostle  giving  an  account 
of  himself  and  his  spiritual  state-  He  speaks 
in  language  somewhat  similar,  though  great- 
ly superior,  to  the  profession  of  the  Arme- 
nian princess :  "  so  great  is  the  glory,  so 
rich  is  the  grace,  so  superabundant  are  the 
merits  of  my  Redeemer,  that  I  am  deter- 
mined to  know  nothing  but  Christ  Jesus, 
and  him  crucified."   1  Cor.  ii.  2.      Ask  the 


.■^97 

welcome  persecution,  and  defy  death?  This 
is  his  reply,  "  The  love  of  Christ  constrain- 
eth  me  ;  beareth  me  on,  with  much  the 
same  strong,  steady,  prevailing  influence, 
which  winds  and  tide  exert  when  they  waft 
the  vessel  to  its  destined  harbour." 

Shall  we  hear  what  another  disciple,  one 
of  the  most  advanced  proficients  in  divine 
love,  says  upon  the  subject  ?  one  who 
learned  his  knowledge,  not  in  the  school  of 
philosophy,  but  on  his  Saviour's  bosom  ? 
"  This  is  the  love  of  God,  that  we  walk 
after  his  commandments."  2  John,  ver.  6. 
This  is  the  natural  fruit,  this  the  certain  evi- 
dence, of  love  to  that  glorious,  transcendent, 
and  adorable  Being.  What  ?  Not  that  we 
supinely  neglect,  much  less  that  we  profane- 
ly violate  his  sacred  precepts,  but  that,  with 
assiduity  and  delight,  we  make  them  the  rule 
of  our  conduct.  "  Charity  edifieth  ;"  I  Cor. 
viii.  1  ;  this  divine  love,  far  from  raising  the 
foundations,  far  from  demolishing  the  struc- 
ture, "  buildeth  up,"  ('0(>c»?«,«w)  the  fair 
fabric  of  universal  godliness. 

Let  me  borrow  an  illustration  from  your 
own  letter.  When  a  pebble  is  cast  into  the 
smooth  canal,  it  moves  the  centre  and  forms 
a  circle.  The  first  creates  a  second,  the 
second  breaks  into  a  third  ;  they  continue 
to  multiply  and  expand  themselves,  till  the 
whole  surface  is  covered  with  circular  un- 
dulations. Thus,  the  love  of  an  all-gracious 
Redeemer,  when  "  shed  abroad  in  the  soul 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,"  Rom.  v.  5,  will  diffuse 
itself  through  every  intellectual  faculty,  and 
extend  to  every  species  of  duty,  till  the 
whole  heart  is  filled  with  the  image,  and 
the  whole  behaviour  legulated  by  the  law 
of  the  blessed  God.  So  that  I  am  persuad- 
ed there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  and  solidi- 
ty, as  every  one  must  acknowledge  there  is 
a  peculiar  spirit  and  beauty,  in  the  apos- 
trophe of  our  poet ; 

Talk  they  of  morals  ?    O  thou  bleeding  love ! 
Thou  maker  of  new  morals  to  mankind. 
The  grand  morality  is  love  of  Thee. 

yif^'lit  Thoughts,  No.  iv. 

You  mentioned  the  loadstone,  as  most 
signally  and  most  extensively  serviceable  in 
the  sea-faring  business.  Such  is  faith,  so 
efficacious  in  practical  Christianity.  This, 
perhaps,  you  think  a  scanty  and  defective 
principle.      The    projierty   of   showing  the 


same  zealous  apostle,  what  prompted  him  I  northern  part  of  the  world  may  seem  equally 
to  such  indefatigable  diligence,  and  animated 


him  with  such  invincible  fortitude?  Why 
did  he  decline  no  toil,  and  dread  no  danger  ; 
rejoice  in  tribulation,  and  glory  in  reproach  ;f 


■*    Eyw    u-v    *a»    T'/js  '4'U)(,ni    rr^iaifjt.r,)/   wrTl 
fitjVOTi  XaT^twrai  ravrrt. 

Xenoph.  dv  Cyri  Instit.  lib.  iii. 

t  That  supreme  afl'ection  to  the   blessed  Jesus, 

which  reigned  in  the  hearts  of  his  primitive  disciples, 

could  never  hnve  been  so  emphatically  displayed  by 

any  strokes  of  eloquence,  as  by  tlicir  own  cheerful 


and  heroic  manner  of  expressing  themselves,  with  re 
lation  to  their  sufferings.  Far  from  regretting,  "  I 
take  pleasure  (says  the  apostle)  in  afflictions."  i  Cor. 
xii.  W.  "  To  you,"  adds  the  same  apostle,  "  it  is 
piven  (tX"?'"^^^  as  a  desirable  privilege,  to  suff.t 
for  the  adorable  Jesus."  Phil.  i.  ^9.  St.  Luke,  rc- 
1  cording  the  outrages  committed  on  two  disciples,  for 
preaching  boldly  m  the  name  of  Christ,  uses  a  phrase 
remarkably  (gallant  and  spirited:  "  They  departed 
rrum  the  council  rejoicing,  "''■'  KaTn^ccii}-/irei>  ari~ 
//.curl'tiv^i.  that  they  were  counted  worthy  to  suffer 
shame,"  in  so  venerableaiid  gloiio  is  a  i  ansa. 


398 

mean  and  inconsiderable.  But  as  the  one  is 
the  very  soul  of  navigation,  the  other  is  the 
very  life  of  holiness.  It  is  somewhat  like 
the  stone,  which  the  Babylonian  monarch 
saw  in  his  dream,  "  cut  from  the  rock  with- 
out hands,"  Dan.  ii.  34,  which,  though  des- 
picable to  human  appearance,  was  mighty  in 
operation  ;  destroyed  the  superb  statue  ; 
became  a  great  mountain,  and  filled  the 
whole  earth.  Thus  will  faith  exert  and  dif- 
fuse its  kindly  yet  triumphant  energy,  to 
every  corruption,  that  it  may  be  subdued  ; 
to  every  virtue,  that  it  may  be  cherished. 

Faith  is  a  real  persuasion,  that  the  bless- 
ed Jesus  has  shed  his  blood  for  me,  and  ful- 
filled all  righteousness  in  my  stead  ;  that, 
through  this  great  atonement  and  meritori- 
ous obedience  he  has  purchased,  even  for 
my  sinful  soul,  reconciliation  with  God, 
sfinctifying  grace,  and  every  spiritual  bless- 
ing.* 

When  the  Almighty  sunk  the  cavities  of 
the  ocean,  and  replenished  them  with  the 
liquid  element,  he  provided  an  inexhaust- 
ible source  of  moisture,  for  the  refreshment 
of  every  animal,  and  the  nutriment  of  every 
vegetable.  In  like  manner,  wheiever  he 
works  this  true  faith,  he  plants  the  seed  of 
universal  holiness,  and  provides  for  the  pro- 
pagation of  every  virtue.  This  persuasion 
of  the  divine  good-will  overcomes  our  na 
tural  reluctance,  and  excites  a  fervent  de- 
sire to  please  our  most  merciful  Father. 
This  experience  of  the  abundant  grace  of 
Christ  attracts  and  assimilates  the  soul ; 
turning  it  into  his  amiable  likeness,  "  as  the 
wax  is  turned  to  the  imprinted  seal."  What 
will  be  the  language  of  such  a  person  ? 

•'  Did  my  exalted  Master  empty  himself 
and  become  poor,  that  his  most  unworthy 
servant  might  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness 
of  God?  Eph.  iii.  19.  And  shall  not  I 
cheerfully  deny  myself  the  expensive  plea- 
sures of  the  world,  that  I  may  have  some- 
what to  bestow  on  his  needy  children  ?  Has 
the  death  of  Christ,  as  a  punishment,  satis- 
fied the  most  rigorous  justice  for  my  sins  ; 
as  a  price,  has  it  redeemed  me  from  every 
evil ;  and  as  a  sacrifice,  made  my  peace  with 
God  most  high  ?  And  shall  I  not,  by  these 
mercies  of  my  dying  Lord,  be  induced  to 
present  all  the  members  of  my  body,  and  all 
the  faculties  of  my  soul,  as  aliving  sacrifice  to 
his  honour,  Rom.  xii.  1,  to  be  employed  in 
his  service,  and  resigned  to  his  will .''  Do  I 
believe  that  my  Saviour  has  not  only  rescued 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


••  This  definition  of  faith  may  possibly,  at  the  first 
view,  dissatisfy  and  alarm  even  some  pious  people, 
including,  as  they  apprehend,  too  great  a  degree  of 
assurance.  Rut  if  they  please  to  takeit  in  connexion 
with  the  explanation  and  adjustmentdelivered  in  the 
sixteenth  Dialogue,  I  hopeallcauseof  disapprobation 
or  surprise  will  vanish.  1  flatter  myself  that  the  sen- 
timent will  be  found,  not  only  comfortable  for  the 
sinner,  but  agreeable  to  Scripture  ;  and  truly  unex- 
ceptionable, as  well  as  highly  desirable. 


me  from  hell,  but  established  my  title  to 
all  the  blessings  included  in  the  promises, 
and  all  the  felicity  laid  up  in  heaven  ?  And 
ran  I  neglect  to  seek  those  invaluable  bless- 
ings, or  forbear  to  aspire  after  this  immense 
felicity  ?  Can  I  be  so  ungrateful  as  to  af- 
front, so  insensible  as  to  forget,  the  infinite- 
ly beneficent  Author  of  both  ?  Am  I  per- 
suaded that  the  Prince  of  Peace  is  entered 
into  glory,  as  my  forerunner,  Heb.  vi.  20, 
and  has  prepared  mansions  of  bliss  for  my 
final  reception  ?  And  shall  I  not  follow  him 
thither  in  my  hopes  and  my  affections  ;  be 
as  a  pilgrim  below,  and  have  my  conversa- 
tion above  ?  Is  not  this  a  most  sweet  and 
effectual  method  of  gaining  my  heart,  and 
if  my  heart,  then  all  my  powers,  to  his  bless- 
ed self?" 

Such,  my  dear  Theron,  will  be  the  ef- 
fects of  faith.  Therefore,  it  is  not  in  vain, 
much  less  to  the  discouragement  of  real 
virtue,  that  the  scripture  lays  such  a  stress 
upon  faith  :  so  frequently  urges  the  impor- 
tance and  necessity  of  faith;  represents  faith 
as  the  principal  work  of  the  divine  Spirit, 
and  the  great  instrument  of  receiving  salva- 
tion: because  it  is  a  sure,  a  sovereign  means 
of  "  purifying  the  heart,"  Acts  xv.  9 ;  and 
never  fails  to  "  work  by  love,"  Gal.  v.  6. 
Was  faith,  as  some  people  are  apt  to  ima- 
gine,  like  a  candle  put  under  a  bushel,  or 
like  the  lamps  which  burn  in  sepulchres ; 
it  would  then  be  an  insignificant  labour  to 
inculcate  it,  and  no  better  than  an  empty 
flourish  of  words  to  celebrate  it.  But  no- 
thing is  more  certain  than  that  faith  is  a 
vital,  an  operative,  a  victorious  principle. 

Christ  is  a  store- house  of  all  good- 
Whatever  is  necessary  to  remove  our  guilt, 
whatever  is  expedient  for  renewing  our  na- 
ture, whatever  is  proper  to  fit  us  for  the 
eternal  fruition  of  God,  all  this  is  laid  up 
in  Christ ;  and  all  this  is  received  by  faith, 
for  application,  use,  and  enjoyment.  Ac- 
cordingly, when  Zaccheus  believed,  he  com- 
menced a  new  man  ;  his  bowels  yearned 
with  compassion ;  the  rapacious  publican 
became  a  friend  to  the  needy,  and  a  fa- 
ther to  the  poor,  Luke  xix.  8. — When  the 
Macedonians  believed,  how  eminently  was 
their  spirit  ennobled  and  their  practice  im- 
proved. Though  pressed  with  afflictions, 
their  souls  overflowed  with  joy  ;  and,  even 
in  the  deepest  poverty,  they  signalized 
themselves  by  the  abundance  of  their  liber- 
ality.* When  the  fir;-t  converts  believed, 
the  change  of  their  behaviour  was  so  re- 


•  2  Cor.  viii.  2.  Here  is,  especially  in  the  original, 
as  fine  an  antithesis,  perhaps,  as  ever  was  penned. 
Since  my  last  notes  were  so  copious,  I  shall  forego 
the  pleasure  of  particularizing  the  beauties  of  this 
clause.  I  leave  it  to  the  lover  of  the  sacred  litera- 
ture to  admire  the  apostle's  expression,  to  be  charm- 
ed with  the  spirit  of  the  Macedonian  believers,  and 
to  derive  edification  from  both. 


LETTER  XI. 


399 


maiKaMo,  the  holiness  of  their  lives  so  ex- 
emi)laiy,  that  they  won  the  fuvotir  find  com- 
manded the  respect  of  all  the  ^icople,  Acts 
ii.  17.  lii  short,  it  is  as  impossible  for  the 
sun  to  be  in  his  meridian  sjjhere,  and  not 
to  dissipate  darkness  or  dillnse  light,  as  for 
faitli  to  exist  in  the  soul,  and  not  to  exalt  the 
tem]ier  and  meliorate  the  conduct.  That 
my  dear  Theron  may  be  established  in  faith, 
may  increase  in  faith,  may  abound  in  faith, 
is  the  most  affectionate  wish  that  thought 
can  suggest  or  friendship  adopt.  May  his 
faith  therefore  be  estal)lishe(l  like  the  moun- 
tain-oaks, increase  like  the  progressive 
frtreani,  till  it  spreads  and  abounds  like  the 
overflowing  flood  ! 

I  intended  to  have  closed  my  letter, 
and  confnmed  my  point,  by  a  very  memora- 
ble story.  But  however  your  patience  may 
persevere,  my  time  fails,  and  my  hand  is 
weary.  The  next  po-t,  if  nothing  unex- 
pected intervenes,  shall  bring  you  the  se- 
quel. May  it,  when  brought  to  my  friend, 
be  as  "  a  nail  fastened  in  a  'ure  ])lace  " 
and  give  the  rivet  of  conviction  to  all  these 
important  truths  !  In  tJie  mean  time,  or 
rather  at  all  times,  I  remain  cordially  and 
invariably  yours, 

ASPASIO. 


LETTER  XI. 

AsPAsio  TO  Theuon. 

Dear  Theron, — Faith  in  the  imputed 
righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ,  is  a  funda- 
mental principle  in  that  invaluable  sys- 
tem of  sacred  and  divine  philosophy — the 
gospel  ;  by  which  the  heavenly  Teacher 
is  contiimally  training  up  milh'ons  of  ration- 
al and  immortal  creatures,  for  the  true  per- 
fection of  their  nature,  for  the  final  fruition 
of  their  God  ;  or,  ni  other  words,  for  a 
state  of  consummate  happiness  and  ever- 
lasting exaltation.  In  this  school,  may 
you  and  I  be  humble  students  and  daily 
proficients  !  Whde  others  are  ambitious 
of  glittering  distinctions  and  sounding  titles, 
may  it  be  our  highest  aim,  our  greatest 
glory,  to  answer  the  character  of  believers  ! 
By  this  character,  the  supreme  Lord  dis- 
tinguishes his  chosen  people,  and  denomi- 
nates the  heirs  of  salvation.  This  cha- 
racter stands  fairest  in  the  book  of  life, 
and  brightest  in  the  annals  of  eternity. 
This  character,  however  neglected  or  dis- 
esteemed  among  men,  will  be  remembered 
and  had  in  honour  when  the  pompous 
names  of  statesman  and  generalissimo  are 
known  no  more. 

As  faith  is  of  such  singiJar  and  extensive 
efficacy  in  genuine  Christianity,  methinks  I 
would  have  all  our  meditations  terminate  on 


its  glorious  object,  and  be  calculated  to  in- 
vigorate so  benefical  a  principle.  When 
we  reflect  on  that  stupendous  act,  the  crea- 
tion of  the  workl  out  of  nothing  ;  let  us  re- 
member, it  was  his  act,  who  "  obtained  eter- 
nal redemption  for  us."  When  we  contem- 
plate that  immense  theatre  of  wonders,  the 
heavens  and  their  shining  hosts  ;  let  us  not 
forget  that  they  are  all  his  Works,  who 
"  brought  in  everlasting  righteousness"  for 
us.  Do  we  turn  our  thoughts  to  the  ocean, 
that  spacious  and  magnificent  canal  which 
covers  more  than  half  the  globe  ?  It  was 
formed  by  his  word,  and  is  obedient  to  his 
will,  who  "  loved  us  and  washed  us  from 
our  sins  in  his  own  blood."  Do  we  take  a 
view  of  the  earth,  that  grand  and  inexhaust- 
ible magazine,  which  furnishes  such  a  mul- 
tijilicity  of  conveniences  for  so  many  millions 
of  creatuies  ?  It  is  all  his  pro])erty,  and 
wholly  at  his  disposal,  who  "  emptied  him- 
self "  (!x;v!Jtr  V  £ayTov,)foroursak(',and  "  had 
not  where  to  lay  his  head."  Phil.  ii.  7.  For 
thus  saith  the  inspired  philosopher,  thus 
saith  the  oracle  of  revelation,  "All  things 
were  made  by  him,  iind  for  him.    Col.  i.  16. 

The  great  Creator  has  enriched  this  ha- 
bitable globe  with  a  profusion  of  good.  He 
has  adorned  it  with  a  variety,  an  order,  and 
a  beauty,  which  are  perfectly  charming. 
lie  has  emiohled  it  with  a  di;.,'nity,  a  sub- 
limity, and  a  grandeur,  which  are  at  once 
delightful  and  astonishing.  In  all  this,  rea- 
son cannot  but  discern  a  clear  manifestation 
of  power,  a  bright  display  of  wisdom,  and  a 
rich  demonstration  of  benignity.  But  will 
the  Creator  himself  vouchsafe  to  be  made 
flesh,  on  purpose  that  he  may  obey  and  die 
for  his  guilty  creatures  ?  This  is  what  neither 
the  utmost  penetration  of  men,  nor  the  very 
superior  intelligence  of  angels,  could  ever 
Iiave  demonstrated,  discovered,  or  conceiv- 
ed. This  exceeds  whatever  the  elements 
have  produced,  whatever  the  sun  has  beheld, 
as  much  as  the  extent  and  maf^nificence  of 
the  planetary  system  exceed  the  dimensions 
and  the  furniture  of  a  shepherd's  hut.  To 
reveal  this,  is  the  blessed  peculiarity  of  the 
gospel.  To  know  and  believe  this,  is  the 
distinguishing  prerogative  of  a  Christian. 
To  apply  this,  to  dwell  upon  this,  to  con- 
nect this  with  all  our  observations  of  the 
universe,  should  be  our  favourite  and  ha- 
bitual employ.  This  will  im|)rove  wonder 
into  devotion,  and  raise  the  entertainments 
of  science  into  the  joy  of  salvation.  This 
will  render  every  philosophical  speculation 
a  strengthener  of  our  faith,  and  make  the 
various  scenes  of  nature  a  guide  to  grace, 
and  a  step  to  glory.  When  this  is  done, 
then  all  things  attain  their  projfer  end  ;  and 
as  they  are  by  Christ,  so  they  are  for 
Christ. 

But  I  forget  myself,  my  business,  and 
my  promise.     I  am  to  establish  the  point 


400 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


by  incontestible  fact,  not  to  embellish  it  by 
loose  harangue.  With  pleasure  I  address 
myself  to  discharge  the  obligation  ;  and  ex- 
emplify, in  a  very  memorable  instance,  the 
power  of  faith  on  religious  practice.  From 
whence  shall  I  fetch  my  exemplification  ? 
From  the  memoirs  of  the  indefatigable  apos- 
tle of  the  Gentiles  ?  Here  I  find  one,  most 
concisely,  and  at  the  same  time  most  forci- 
bly displayed. 

"  After  these  things  were  ended,"  says 
the  sacred  historian,  "  Paul  purposed  in  the 
spirit,  when  he  had  passed  through  Mace- 
donia and  Achaia,  to  go  to  Jerusalem,  say- 
ing, after  I  have  been  there,  1  must  also 
see  Rome."  Acts  xix.  21.  Who  can  ob- 
serve, and  not  admire,  this  plain  unambi- 
tious manner  of  relating  a  series  of  labours, 
the  most  signally  successful,  and  most  ex- 
tensively useful  i*  Nothing  in  human  conduct 
ever  surpassed  the  greatness  of  the  one, 
and  perhaps  nothing  in  historical  composi- 
tion ever  equalled  the  simplicity  of  the 
other. 

St.  Paul  had  already  reduced  Ephesus 
and  Asia  to  the  obedience  of  Christ.  He 
had  already  brought  Macedonia  and  Achaia 
into  subjection  to  the  gospel.  He  had  long 
ago  erected  the  standard  and  spread  the 
triumphs  of  Christianity  in  the  regions  of 
Arabin.  Yet,  as  if  he  had  hitherto  achieved 
nothing,  he  bends  his  forces  towards  Jeru- 
salem. Then  he  marks  out  Rome  for  the 
seat  of  his  spiritual  warfare.  After  this  he 
forms  the  same  beneficent  design  upon 
Spain;  includnig  in  his  comprehensive  plan 
the  metropolis  and  the  boundaries*  of  the 
known  world.  The  universe  is  but  just 
large  enough  to  be  the  scene  of  his  action  ; 
he  never  discontinues  the  charitable  cam- 
paign but  with  the  last  breath  of  his  life  ; 
and  he  speaks  of  this  uiiintermitted  course 
of  arduous  and  dangerous  services,  as  if  he 
was  only  going  to  make  some  friendly  visit, 
or  join  in  a  parly  of  innocent  pleasure  : 
"  After  1  have  been  at  Jerusalem,  I  must 
also  see  Rome."t 


»  Spain  was  then  supposed  to  be  the  boundary  of 
the  western,  as  the  Ganges  was  reckoned  theextreniity 
of  the  eastern  world. 

Omnibus  in  tcrris  qu^e  sunt  a  Gadibus  usque 
Auroram  et  Gangen. — Jkc.  Sat.  x. 

t  I  am  quite  charmed,  I  must  confess,  with  this 
very  simple,  but  incomparably  gallant  manner  of  the 
apostle's  speaking.  Far  beyond  all  the  pomp  of  pa- 
negyric, it  displays  the  hero. 

When  a  handful  of  Spartans  undertook  to  defend 
the  pass  of  Thermopyla;  against  the  whole  army  of 
Persia,  so  prodigious,  it  was  reported,  were  tlie  mul- 
titudes of  the  Persians,  that  the  very  flight  of  their 
arrows  would  intercept  the  shining  of  the  sun.  Then, 
said  Dieneces,  one  of  the  Spartan  leaders.  "  we  shall 
have  the  adv.intage  of  fighting  in  the  shade."  Just 
before  the  battle  of  Aginconrt,  news  were  brought  to 
King  Henry's  camp  that  the  French  were  exceeding- 
ly numerous,  and  would  take  the  field  with  more  than 
six  times  the  number  of  the  English  troops.  To 
which  the  brave  Captain  Gam  immediately  replied. 
Is  it  so  ?  "  Then  there  are  enough  to  be  cut  in  pieces, 
enough  to  be  taken  prisoners,  and  enough  to  run 


Which  of  your  Alexanders,  which  of  youf 
Caesars,  which  of  all  the  heroes  renowned  in 
Grecian  or  Roman  story,  can  vie  with  the 
zeal  and  magnanimity  of  this  poor  despised 
tent-maker?  so  poor,  that  he  was  constrained 
to  work  with  his  own  hands  for  a  morsel  oi 
bread  ;  so  despised,  that  he  was  frequently 
treated  as  the  offscouring  of  all  things. 
Notwithstanding  all  these  discouragements, 
what  did  he  not  attempt,  what  did  he  not 
accomplish,  for  the  honour  of  his  Master 
and  the  good  of  his  fellow-creatures  ? — He 
embarks  in  a  shallop ;  he  has  neither  shield 
nor  spear ;  yet  he  purposes  to  command  the 
ocean,  and  conquer  the  globe.  What  great- 
ness of  soul  was  here  !  he  expects  (Acts 
XX.  23,)  nothing  but  poverty,  contempt,  and 
death  ;  yet  his  heart  is  big  with  the  hopes  of 
enriching,  ennobling,  and  saving  ages  and 
generations.  What  benevolence  of  temper 
was  this !  Should  you  inquire  concerning 
this  illustrious  champion  of  the  cross,  who 
were  his  potent  auxiliaries  ?  None  but  the 
divine  Spirit.  What  were  his  mighty  wea- 
pons ?  Nothing  but  the  word  of  truth  and 
grace.  Whence  proceeded  his  intrepid,  his 
enterprising,  iiis  all-conquering  resolution? 
Only  from  faith,  a  lively  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ. 

This,  I  think,  is  a  sufficient  confirmation 
of  my  doctrine.  Nevertheless,  1  .lave  an- 
other instance  to  produce  :  one  that  was  ex- 
hibited in  an  age  when  the  glorious  object 
of  our  faith  shone  with  dim  lustre,  and  with 
distant  beams  ;  yet  it  may  justly  be  admired, 
and  will  hardly  be  eclipsed,  by  the  most  en- 
lightened among  the  Christian  saints.  To 
keep  you  no  longer  in  suspense,  the  case  "I 
mean  is  that  which  Moses  records,  and  the 
a])ostle  celebrates  :  "  By  faith  Abraham, 
when  he  was  tried,  offered  up  Isaac  ;  and  he 
that  had  received  the  promises,  offered 
up  his  only  begotten  son."    Heb.  xi.  17. 

As  this  is  so  singular  an  example  of  the 
efficacious  and  triumphant  operation  of  faith, 
uneqtialled  in  any  nation  of  the  world  or  un- 
der any  dispensation  of  religion,  you  will 
give  me  leave  to  dwell  a  little  on  some  of  its 
marvellous  circumstances. 


away."  A  commanding  officer,  I  think,  among  the 
royalists,  being  besieged  by  the  parliament  forces, 
was  summoned  to  surrender  the  castle.  The  sum- 
mons he  rejected,  and  treated  with  rontem)>t.  Upon 
this  the  enemy  threatened,  that,  if  he  persisted  in  his 
resolution,  the  walls  should,  without  farther  delay, 
be  battered  to  the  ground.  "  What  if  they  are  ?"  was 
his  answer,  ■'  I  am  not  obliged  to  rebuild  them." 

Such  calm  and  undaunted  sentiments,  amidst  cir- 
cumstances of  the  most  imminent  danger,  argue  an 
uncommon  fortitude  and  superiority  c  f  mind.  But, 
if  we  consider  the  nature  of  the  apostle's  enterprise; 
that  it  was  nothing  less  than  an  open  attack  on  the 
empire  of  Satan,  a  declared  war  against  the  whole 
idolatrous  world,  all  which  was  to  be  attended  with 
persecution  and  imprisonment,  was  to  end  in  martyi- 
doin  and  death  ;  if  we  consider  this,  1  Ijelievp,  no- 
thing will  appear  at  once  so  humble  and  so  exalted, 
so  modest  yet  so  magnanimous,  as  the  turn  and  air 
of  his  expression;  "  After  I  have  been  at  Jerusalem, 
1  must  also  see  Rome." 


LETTER  XI. 


401 


Abraham  was  an  eminent  and  distinguish- 
ed servant  of  the  most  high  God,  favoured 
with  peculiar  manifestations  of  the  divine 
will,  and  dignified  with  the  honourable  title 
of  his  Maker's  friend,  2  Chron.  xx.  7,  Isa. 
Ixi.  8.  Yet  even  this  man  is  harassed  with  a 
long  succession  of  troubles ;  and,  which  was 
reckoned  in  those  ages  the  most  deplorable 
calamity,  "goes  childless."' 

Long  he  waits,  worshipping  God  with  the 
most  patient  resignation.  At  length  an  ora- 
cle from  the  Lord  gives  him  hope,  gives  him 
assurance  of  a  son.  Joyfully  he  receives  the 
promise,  and  rests  in  humble  expectation  of 
its  accomplishment.  Several  years  run  their 
rounds,  but  no  pleasing  infant  prattles  in  his 
arms,  or  is  dandled  upon  his  knees.  At 
last  the  handmaid  becomes  pregnant.  But 
what  a  disappointment  was  here  :  This  is 
the  son  of  the  bond-woman,  not  of  the  free. 
How  iiillicting  the  case  of  this  excellent 
person  !  His  kinsfolk  and  acquaintance  see 
their  olive-branches  flourishing  round  about 
their  tables.  Even  his  ungodly  neighbours 
have  children  at  their  desire,  and  leave  the 
residue  of  their  substance  for  their  babes. 
But  Abraham,  the  worshipper  of  the  Al- 
mighty, the  favourite  of  heaven  ;  this  Abra- 
ham IS  destitute  of  an  heir  to  support  his 
rnme,  to  propagate  his  family,  and  inherit 
the  blessiirg.  O  the  straits  to  which  the 
believer  is  sometimes  reduced  !  How  does 
a  sovereign  Providence  try  his  faith,  as  it 
were  in  a  furnace  of  fire  !  not  that  it  may 
be  consumed,  but  refined,  and  come  forth 
with  augmented  lustre,  to  the  praise  of  ever- 
faithful,  all-sufficient  grace- 

God  is  pleased  to  renew  the  grant,  and 
assure  him  more  explicitly,  that  Sarah  shall 
have  a  son.  But  this  notice  comes  at  a 
very  late  period  in  life,  when  Sarah  is  ad- 
vanced in  years,  and  too  old,  according  to 
the  course  of  nature,  to  conceive.  Hovvever, 
the  pious  patriarch  "  staggers  not  through 
unbelief;  but  hopes  even  against  hope," 
Rom.  iv.  18 — 20.  Is  it  improbable?  is  it 
dirticult  •*  nay,  is  it  to  all  human  appearance 
impossible?  So  much"  the  fitter  for  the  ex- 
ertion, and  so  much  the  more  proper  for  the 
disj)lay  of  almighty  power. 

At  last  the  gift  so  earnestly  desired  is 
vouchsafed.  Sarah  has  a  child— a  son — an 
I«aac  ;  one  «ho  should  be  a  somce  of  con- 
solati(,u  and  delight  to  his  ])arents,  should 
"  fill  their  mouth  with   laughter,  and  their 


tongue  with  joy.""  Psalm  cxxvi.  2.  With 
tender  care,  doubtless,  this  pleasant  plant  is 
reared.  Many  prayers  are  put  up  for  his 
long  life,  and  great  happiness.  The  fond 
parents  watch  over  him  as  over  the  apple  of 
their  own  eye.  Their  life  is  bound  up  in 
the  life  of  the  lad,  Gen.  xliv.  30.  He  grows 
in  grace  as  he  grows  in  stature.  So  amia- 
ble is  his  temper,  and  so  engaging  his  beha- 
viour,  as  could  not  fail  of  endearing  him 
even  to  a  stranger ;  how  much  more  to  such 
indulgent  parents,  after  so  long  a  state  of 
barrenness,  and  so  many  expectations  so 
frequently  frustrated. 

Now,  methinks,  we  are  ready  to  congra- 
tulate the  happy  sire,  and  flatter  ourselves, 
that  his  tribulations  have  an  end,  that  the 
storms  which  ruftled  the  noon  of  life  are 
blown  over,  and  the  evening  of  his  age  is 
becoming  calm  and  serene.  But  let  "  not 
him  that  girdeth  on  his  harness,  boast  him- 
self as  he  that  putteth  it  oflf,"  1  Kings  xx. 
11.  Our  warfare  on  earth  is  never  accom- 
plished, till  we  bow  our  head  and  give  up 
the  ghost.  The  sharpest,  the  severest  trial 
is  still  behind.  God,  the  supreme  and  un- 
controllable God,  demands  the  child.  It  is 
the  will  of  heaven,  that  he  make  his  exit, 
just  as  he  arrives  at  manhood-  "  Where 
now,  Abraham,  are  all  thy  pleasing  pros- 
pects ?  How  often  didst  thou  say  in  thy 
fond  delighted  heart,  "  This  same  shall 
comfort  us  concerning  our  trouble?"  (ien. 
V.  29.  Many  have  been  my  sorrows,  but 
this  child  shall  dry  up  my  tears,  and  bring 
me  to  my  grave  in  peace.  Alas  I  this  love- 
ly flower  is  to  be  cut  down  in  its  fairest, 
fullest  bloom.  All  thy  shining  hopes  are 
overcast  in  a  moment." 

"  Abraham  '."f  says  God. — Abraham 
knows  the  voice.  It  is  the  voice  of  conde- 
scending goodness.  He  had  often  heard  it 
with  a  rapture  of  delight.  Instantly  he  re- 
plies, "  Here  I  am,  speak.  Lord !  for  thy 
servant  is  all  attention  ;"  hoping,  no  doubt, 
to  receive  some  fresh  manifestation  of  the 
divine  good-will  to  himself  and  his  family  ; 
or  some  new  discovery  of  the  method  in 
which  the  divine  wisdom  would  accomplish 
the  promises,  "  I  will  multiply  thy  seed  ;  I 
will  make  thy  seed  as  the  dust  of  the  earth, 
and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  families  of  the 
earth  be  blessed !" 


♦  There  was  so  much  gall  in  this  calamity,  that  it 
iml)itterc(l  every  oilier  species  of  happiness.  Visited 
by  this  alHiction,  the  patriarcli  coiilii  taste  no  joy  in 
Jus  late  siRiial  victory;  all  his  worldly  prosiieVitv 
was  insii)id,  and  he  seeni,s  to  have  been  incapable  of 
relishint;  any  othrr  comfort,  "what  wilt  thou  give  me, 
seeing  1  go  childless?"  Gen.  xv.  2.  I  would  entreat  the 
reader  to  take  pailicular  notice  of  this  cirvumstance. 
It  will  have  the  same  effect  upon  the  representation  of 
Abraham's  ol>edience,  and  the  whole  series  of  his  dif- 
ficulties, as  a  magnifying  glais  ha?  upon  the  objects  to 
which  it  is  applied. 


*  This  is  the  import  of  the  Hebrew  name  Isaac, 
t  The  sentence  with  which  the  inspired  historian 
introduces  this  afl'ecting  narrative,  isunha)ipily  tran- 
slated in  our  Bibles,  tJlllNJlNnDJ,  Ood 
did  tempt  .\braham.  This  expression  seems,  more 
than  seems  to  clash  with  the  doctrine  of  St.  James, 
chap.  i.  l.i,  .and  cannot  but  sound  harsh  to  those  ears, 
which  have  been  accustomed  to  understand,  by  temp- 
ter and  tempting,  persons  utterly  odious  and  pi-actices 
extremely  periiuiims.  Whereas  the  true  and  natural 
signification  of  the  original  is,  "he  tried  or  explored." 
God  sounded  the  depth,  and  measured  the  height  of 
his  servant's  faith,  in  order  to  erect  an  everlastin;; 
monument  of  the  victorious  efficacy  of  this  siicied 
jiriiiciple,  and  exhibit  an  illustrious  pattern  to  all 
them  whoshoukl  hereafter  Ijelieve. 


402 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO 


"  Take  thy  son,"  adds  God.  And  might 
not  Abraham  reasonably  expect,  that,  since 
his  son  was  advanced  to  years  of  matur- 
ity, he  should  be  directed  how  to  settle  him 
in  the  world  with  honour  and  advantage  ; 
where  to  find  a  virtuous  and  fruitful  partner 
of  his  bed  ?  He  is  commanded,  not  barely 
to  take  his  son,  but  his  only  son,  his  son 
Isaac,  whom  he  loved.  How  must  these 
affecting  images  awaken  all  that  soft  com- 
placency, and  all  that  tender  triumph,  which 
are  known  only  to  the  fondly  feeling  heart 
of  a  parent  !  Must  not  such  an  introduction, 
BO  remarkably  endearing,  heighten  his  ex- 
pectation of  some  signal  mercy ;  to  be  con- 
ferred on  the  beloved  youth,  and  would  it 
not  render  the  blessing  peculiarly  accepta- 
ble, more  than  doubly  welcome  ? 

Was  he  not  then  startled,  was  he  not 
horribly  amazed,  when,  instead  of  some  re- 
newed expression  of  the  divine  favour,  lie 
received  the  following  orders?  "  Take  now 
thy  son — thy  only  son  Isaac — whom  thou 
lovest,  and  get  thee  into  the  land  of  Mor- 
iah,  and  offer  him  there  for  a  burnt-otTcring 
upon  one  of  the  mountains  which  I  will  tell 
thee  of,"  Gen.  xxii.  2. 

Was  ever  message  so  alarming  ?  each 
word  more  piercing  to  parental  ears,  than 
the  keenest  dagger  to  the  heart.  Every 
clause  brings  an  additional  load  of  misery  ; 
till  the  whole  command  swells  into  the 
most  accumulated  and  aggravated  wo. 

"Abraham,  take  thy  son."  Who  but 
Abraham  could  have  forebore  remonstrating 
and  pleading  on  such  an  occasion  ? — Ana- 
nias, being  charged  with  a  commission  to 
Saul  the  persecutor,  takes  upon  him  to  ar- 
gue the  case  with  his  almighty  Sovereign  ; 
"Lord,  I  have  heard  by  many  concerning 
this  man,  how  much  evil  he  hath  done  to 
thy  saints  at  Jerusalem  ;  and  here  he  hath 
authority  from  the  chief  priests  to  bind  all 
that  call  upon  thy  name,"  Acts  ix.  13,  14, 
Sure,  it  can  never  be  safe  or  expedient  to 
present  myself  voluntarily  before  him,  who 
came  hither  breathing  out  threatenings  and 
slaughter  against  me  !  What  is  this  but  to 
court  danger,  and  run  with  open  eyes  into 
ruin  ?  Thus  Ananias  ;  and  with  how  much 
greater  appearance  of  reason  might  Abra- 
ham have  replied,  "  Lord,  shall  I  lose  my 
child  ?  lose  him,  almost  as  soon  as  I  have 
received  him?  Didst  thou  give  him  only 
to  tantalize  thy  servant  ?  Remember,  gra- 
cious God,  the  name  he  bears-  How  shall 
he  answer  its  cheering  import,  how  shall  he 
be  a  source  of  satisfaction  to  his  parents,  or 
the  father  of  many  nations,  if  thou  takest 
him  away  in  his  unmarried  state,  and  in  the 
very  prime  of  his  years? 

"  If  sin  lies  at  the  door,  let  me  expiate 
the  guilt.  Let  thousands  of  rams,  let  every 
bullock  in  my  stalls  bleed  at  thy  altar.  My 
wealth,  blessed  Lord,  and  all  my  goods,  are 


nothing  in  comparison  of  my  Isaac.  Com- 
mand me  to  be  stript  of  my  possessions ; 
command  me  to  loam  as  a  fugitive  and  a 
vagabond  on  the  earth,  and  I  will  magnify 
thy  holy  name.  Only  let  my  child,  my  dear 
child,  be  spared, 

"  Or,  if  nothing  will  appease  thy  indigna- 
tion but  human  blood,  let  my  death  be  the 
sacrifice.  Upon  me  be  the  vengeance.  I 
am  old  and  gray-headed,  the  best  of  my 
days  are  past,  and  the  best  of  my  services 
done.  If  this  tottering  wall  tumbles,  there 
will  be  little  or  no  cause  for  regret.  But  if 
the  pillar  of  my  house,  and  the  foundation 
of  my  hopes, — if  he  be  snatched  from  me, 
what  good  will  my  life  do  me  ?  "  O  my  son, 
my  son,  would  God  I  might  die  for  thee  [" 
2  Sam.  xviii.  33. 

"  If  it  must  be  a  blooming  youth,  in  the 
flower  of  his  days,  be  pleased,  most  merciful 
God,  to  select  the  victim  from  some  fruit- 
ful family.  There  are  those  who  abound  in 
children.  Children  are  multiplied  unto 
them  ;  and  though  many  were  removed,  yet 
would  their  table  be  full.  There  are  those 
who  have  flocks  and  herds,  whereas  I  have 
only  this  one  little  lamb,  2  Sam.  xii.  3,  the 
very  solace  of  my  soul,  and  the  stay  of  my 
declining  years  ;  aad  shall  this  be  taken 
away,  while  all  those  are  left  ?" 

Yes,  Abraham,  it  is  thy  son,  and  not  an- 
other's, that  is  marked  for  the  victim. 
What  distress,  had  he  not  been  supported 
by  faith,  what  exquisite  distress,  must  have 
overwhelmed  this  affectionate  parent !  How 
could  he  refrain  from  crying  out,  and  with 
a  flood  of  tears  ? — "  If  the  decree  cannot  be 
reversed,  if  it  must  be  the  fruit  of  my  own 
body,  O  !  that  Ishmael,  the  son  of  the 
handmaid — How  shall  I  speak  it?  my  heart 
bleeds  at  the  thought ;  at  the  thought  even 
of  his  expiring  agonies,  and  untimely  death. 
But  as  for  Isaac,  the  son  of  my  beloved 
spouse,  the  son  of  my  old  age,  the  crown  of 
all  my  labours  j  how,how  shall  I  survive  such 
a  loss  ?  The  blow  that  goes  to  his  heart, 
must  be  fatal  to  us  both- 

"  Yet  if  he  must  die,  and  there  is  no  reme- 
dy ;  may  he  not  at  least  expire  by  a  natural 
dissolution  ?  May  not  some  common  dis- 
temper unloose  the  cords  of  life,  and  lay  him 
down  gently  in  the  tomb  ?  May  not  his  fond 
mother  and  myself  seal  his  closing  eyes,  and 
soften  his  dying  pangs  by  our  tender  oflices?" 

No,  Abraham.  Thy  son  must  be  slaugh- 
tered on  the  altar.  He  shall  have  no  other 
bed  of  death  than  the  pile  of  hewn  wood  ; 
no  other  winding  sheet,  than  his  own  clot- 
ted gore.  The  sacrificing-knife,  and  not 
any  common  disease,  shall  bring  him  to  his 
end.  And  think  not  to  satisfy  thy  sorrow- 
ing  fondness,  by  paying  him  the  last  hon-. 
ours  of  u.  decent  interment.  It  is  the  Lord's 
will  that  he  be  cut  in  pieces,  consumed  to 
ashes,  and  made  a  burnt-oflering ;  so  that 


LETTER  XL 


403 


notliing  shall  remain  to  be  preserved  or  em- 
balmed. It  shall  not  be  in  thy  power  to 
soothe  thy  grief,  by  resorting  to  his  grave, 
and  weeping  at  his  sepulchre,  and  saying — 
"  Here  lies  Isaac  !" 

"  But  if  all  must  be  executed,  God  grant 
these  eyes  may  never  behold  the  dismal  tra- 
gedy !  If  my  Isaac  must  be  bound  hand  and 
foot  for  the  slaughter,  if  he  must  receive  the 
steel  into  his  bosom,  and  welter  in  his  own 
innocent  blood,  heaven  forbid  that  I  should 
behold  so  killing  a  spectacle  !" 

Even  this  mitigation  cannot  be  granted. 
Thou  must  not  only  be  an  eye-witness  of 
his  agony,  but  be  the  executioner  of  thy 
Isaac.  Thy  hands  must  lift  the  deadly 
weapon ;  thy  hands  must  [joint  it  to  the 
beloved  breast;  thine  own  hands  must  urge 
its  way  through  the  gushing  veins  and  shiv- 
ering flesh,  till  it  be  plunged  in  the  throb- 
bing heart.  God  will  not  permit  the  work 
to  be  done  by  another.  The  father,  the 
father  must  be  the  butcher. 

Is  not  the  wretched  father  stunned  and 
thunder-  struck  !  Does  he  not  stand  fived 
in  horror,  and  speechless  with  grief  ?  What 
words  can  be  mournful  enough  to  express 
his  sorrows  ?  Unheard  of,  shocking  aifair  ! 
Nature  recoils  at  the  very  thought !  How 
then  can  the  best  of  fathers  perform  the 
deed  ?  How  shall  he  answer  it  to  the  wife 
of  his  bosom,  the  mother  of  the  lovely 
youth  ?  How  can  he  justify  it  to  the  world  ? 
They  will  never  be  persuaded  that  the  God 
of  goodness  can  delight  in  cruelty,  or  au- 
thorize so  horrid  an  action.  Will  they  not 
take  up  a  taunting  proverb,  and  say  at 
every  turn,  "  There  goes  the  man,  the 
monster  rather,  that  has  imbrued  his  hands 
in  his  own  son's  blood  !  This  is  he  that 
pretends  to  piety,  and  yet  could  be  so  sav- 
age as  to  assassinate,  coolly  aiid  deliberately 
assassinate  an  only  child!" — Might  not 
thousands  of  such  reflections  ciowd  into  his 
thoughts,  and  rack  his  very  soul  ? 

But  God  is  unchangeable.  Positive  is 
his  word,  and  must  be  obeyed ;  obeyed 
immediaLely  too.  Take  now  thy  son.  The 
Lord's  commandment  requireth  s))eed.  No 
time  is  to  be  lost  in  bidding  adieu  to  his 
relations,  or  in  fruitless  supplications  for  re- 
voking the  doom.  Nay,  cheerfully,  as  well 
as  instantly,  must  this  command  be  fulfill- 
ed. The  great  Jehovah  expects  alacrity  in 
his  service. — •Prodigious  trial  indeed  !  Yet 
not  too  great  for  a  faith  which  the  divine 
Spirit  infuses  and  the  divine  Spirit  sus- 
tains. 

The  patriarch  knew  full  well  that  obedi- 
ence is  no  obedience,  unless  it  be  w'illing 
and  cheerful,  '^riierefore  he  consults  not 
with  flesh  and  blood.  He  is  deaf  to  the 
arguings  of  carnal  reason,  and  regards  not 
the  yearnings  of  paternal  afl"ection.  With- 
out a  murmuring  word,  without  a  moment's 


delay,*  he  sets  forward  on  his  journej' ;  not 
so  much  as  betraying  the  least  une;isiness, 
to  alarm  his  wife  ;  nor  heaving  the  least 
sigh,  to  surprise  his  attendants.  An  1 
canst  thou,  Abraham,  canst  thou  persist  in 
thy  purpose  ?  can  thy  heart  firmly  resolve, 
can  thy  hand  steadily  execute,  this  inex- 
pressibly  severe  task?  Most  triumphant 
faith  indeed  !  Deservedly  art  thou  styled 
"  the  father  of  the  faithful  !"  Rom.  iv.  18. 
Thy  faith  is  stro%er  than  all  the  ties  of 
aflPection  ;  stronger  than  all  the  pleas  of  na- 
ture, or  all  the  terrors  of  death, — even  of  a 
death  far  more  dreadful  than  thy  own. 

And  now  must  he  travel  during  three 
tedious,  and  one  would  think,  most  melan- 
choly days,  with  his  Isaac  constantly  before 
his  eyes  ;  with  the  bloody  scene  continually 
in  his  apprehensions  ;  and  nothing  to  di 
vert  his  mind  from  dwelling  on  every  bitter 
circumstance,  and  all  the  grievous  conse- 
quences. "  On  the  third  day,  Abraham 
lifted  up  his  eyes  and  beheld  afar  off"  the 
appointed  i)Iace.  His  servants  are  oidered 
to  keep  their  distance;  while  himself,  with 
the  fire  and  the  knife  in  his  hands ;  and  his 
son,  with  the  burden  of  wood  on  his  shoul- 
ders, "  went  both  of  them  together."  Who 
does  not  pity  the  sweet  youth,  toiling  imder 
that  load  which  must  soon  reek  with  his 
blood,  and  soon  reduce  him  to  ashes  ? 
Meanwhile  the  intended  victim,  wondering 
to  see  all  those  preparations  made,  and  no 
proper  animal  near,  asks  this  pertinent 
question,  "  My  father,  behold  the  fire  and 
the  wood  ;  but  where  is  the  lamb  for  a 
burnt  offering  ?"  Sure,  this  endearing 
speech,  which  discovered  such  a  knowledge 
of  religion,  and  such  a  concern  for  its  duties, 
must  rouse  the  father's  anguish,  and  shake 
his  determination.  How  can  he  be  the 
death  of  so  much  innocence,  and  so  much 
piety? 

Faith  overcomes  all  difficulties.  Un- 
moved, and  indexible,  the  patriaich  replies, 
"  God  will  provide  himself  a  lamb  for  a 
burnt- offering,  my  son."f  After  this  he 
discloses  the  strange,  the  startling  secret : 
"  Thou  thyself,  my  dear  child,  are  destined 
to  this  purpose.  The  God  who  bestowed 
thee  on  my  longing  desire?  is  pleased  to  re- 
quire thee  again  at  my   hand.      The    Lord 


»  For  it  is  written.  He  rose  early  in  the  morning, 
ver.  ;i. 

t  Al)raham,  in  this  answer,  like  many  of  the  other 
propliots  in  tlic'ir  predictions,  seems  11(11  to  liaveUio- 
roughly  mulerstoinl  tlic  import  of  his  own  words. 
What  he  liinisclf  meant,  I  apprehend,  is  repre.seiUed 
in  the  paraphrase  of  his  speech.  Vet  (iod  so  over- 
ruled liis  tongue,  that  it  more  fully  expressed  the  di- 
vine decree,  than  the  paternal  idea. 
"God  will  provide  himselfalamh  for  a  l)urnt-otTerin,'j, 
my  son."  Thus  the  words  are  placed  in  the  Hebrew. 
My  son  comes  last,  and  closes  the  reply  ;  that  the  ten- 
der accents  may  be  left  to  vibrate  on  the  father's  ear, 
and  the  dear  distressing  image  continue  jilaying  be- 
fore  his  mind.  This,  1  think,  is  a  delicacy  not  to  iie 
overlooked,  and  increases  the  pathos  ot  the  navra- 
li\e. 


404 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO 


gave,  and  the  Lord  taketli  away,  let  us  both 
adore  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Let  us  con- 
fide in  his  promised  goodness,  and  unani- 
mously profess,  "  Though  he  slay  me,  yet 
will  1  trust  in  him."  It  does  not  appear 
that  the  amiable  youth  resisted  or  gainsaid. 
He  had  strength  to  oppose,  and  speed  enough 
to  escape,*  the  attempts  of  an  aged  father. 
Either  or  both  of  which,  the  law  of  self- 
preservation  might  seem  to  dictate,  and  the 
light  of  reason  to  justif)%  But  Isaac  knew 
that  his  father  was  a  prophet.  In  this  pro- 
phetical character,  he  sees  and  acknowledges 
the  warrant  of  heaven.  And  since  his 
Creator  calls,  he  is  content  to  go.  Excel- 
lent Isaac  !  who  does  not  admire  thy  courage? 
who  is  not  charmed  with  thy  resignation  ? 
and  must  we,  in  a  few  minutes,  must  we  see 
thee  a  pale,  a  bloody,  a  breathless  corpse  ? 
Methinks,  I  shudder  as  we  draw  near 
the  direful  catastrophe.  The  altar  is  built ; 
the  wood  laid  in  order ;  all  things  are  ready 
for  the  solemn  service  ;  and  Isaac  offers  his 
willing  throat  to  the  knife.  Nevertheless, 
that  the  work  of  destiny  may  be  sure,  and 
no  one  particular  relating  to  a  sacrifice  omit- 
ted, "  Abraham  binds  his  son."  I  have 
known  a  stubborn  malefactor  quite  unalarm- 
ed  when  sentenced  to  the  ignominious  tree  ; 
rot  at  all  impressed  with  the  most  awful  re- 
presentations of  eternal  judgment;  yet,  when 
a  person  came  to  measure  him  for  his  coffin, 
the  hardened  wretch  was  hard  no  longer. 
He  started,  turned  pale,  and  trembled  in 
every  joint.  Even  such  a  circumstance 
makes  no  impression  on  Abraham  ;  neither 
alters  his  purpose,  nor  changes  his  counte- 
nance. He  measures  his  Isaac  ;  measures 
those  limbs,  which  he  had  so  frequently 
and  so  tenderly  caressed  ;  and  if  not  for  the 
coffin,  yet  for  immediate  slaughter. 

Having  bound  him — surprising  resolu- 
tion ! — bound  him  for  the  sword  and  for  the 
flame,  he  "  lays  him  upon  the  altar,  on  the 
wood."  There  now  lies  Isaac  ;  the  dear, 
the  dutiful,  the  religious  Isaac  !  Abraham's 
joy ;  Sarah's  delight ;  the  heir  of  the  pro- 
mises !  there  he  lies,  all  meek  and  resigned  ; 
expecting  every  moment  the  stroke  of  death 
to  fall.  O  parents  !  parents  !  do  not  your 
bowels  yearn  ?  is  not  humanity  itself  dis- 
tressed at  the  scene  ?  Say,  thou  who  art  a 
father,  what  thinkest  thou  of  Abraham's 
obedience  ?  couldst  thou,  to  such  a  son,  have 
ivcted  such  a  part  ? 

See  !  the  father,  resolute  to  the  very  last, 
imsheathes  the  murdering  blade ;  makes 
bare  the  innocent  bosom  ;  and  marks  the 
place   where   life   may  tind   the  speediest 


exit.  "  His  heart  is  fixed  !"  he  stretches  his 
arm,  and  now,  even  now  is  aiming  the  mor- 
tal blow ;  when, — rejoice,  ye  worshippers 
of  a  gracious  God  !  break  forth  into  singing, 
ye  that  are  in  pain  for  the  tried  pai  ant !  the 
Lord  Almighty  interposes  in  this  article  of 
extreme  need.  •  The  Angel  of  the  cove- 
nant speaks  from  heaven,  and  withholds  the 
lifted  hand,  in  the  very  act  to  strike.  God, 
who  only  intended  to  manifest  his  faith, 
and  make  it  honourable,  bids  him  desist. 
God  applauds  his  obedience ;  substitutes 
another  sacrifice  in  Isaac's  stead ;  renews 
his  covenant  vidth  the  father ;  and  not  only 
reprieves  the  life  of  the  son,  but  promises 
him  a,  numerous  and  illustrious  issue ;  pro- 
mises to  make  him  the  progenitor  of  the 
Messiah,  and  thereby  a  public  blessing  to 
all  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

Tell  me  now,  Theron,  was  there  evei- 
such  anastonishing  effort  of  obedience?  such 
a  perfect  prodigy  of  resignation  ?  "  Yet  this 
hath  faith  done."-f-  If  you  should  ask,  how 
was  it  possible  for  Abraham  to  perform  all 
this,  in  the  manner  described  ?  The  answer 
is  obvious :  Because  Abraham  believed : 
or,  in  other  words,  was  fully  persuaded,  that 
the  God  who  had  given  him  this  son  from  the 
barren  womb,  was  able  to  raise  him  again 
from  the  smoking  ashes.  |  As  the  same 
God  who  required  this  sacrifice,  had  ex- 
pressly declared,  "  In  Isaac  shall  thy  seed 


*  AccordingtoJosephus.Isaacwas,  whenhesnbmit- 
1^  J^^if '^ '"  ^^^  slaughter,  about  twenty-five  years 
°''\  Others  think  his  age  was  thirty-three,  which 
niakes  him  more  exactly  resemble  his  suS'ering  Lord. 
1  hen  his  father  must  be  above  a  hundred  and  thirty 
years  old.  Either  account  will  justify  Aspasio's  sup- 
position. J         J       I  J 


»  Upon  this  most  seasonable  interposition,  the  in- 
spired historian  makes  a  very  judicious  and  edifying 
remark,  whichseems  to  be  greatly  obscured,  if  not  en- 
tirely spoiled, by  our  translation:  '•  In  the  mount  of  the 
Lord  it  shall  be  seen."  I  must  confess,,!  have  always 
been  puzzled  to  find,  not  only  a  pertinent  sense,  but 
any  sense  at  all,  in  these  words.  VVhereas  the  originail 
is  as  clear  in  its  signification,  as  it  is  apposite  to  the 
purpose.  "In  the  mount,  the  Lord  will  be  seen:" 
or,  "  In  the  mount,  the  Lord  will  provide."  q.  d. 
"  This  memorable  event  gave  rise  to,  at  least  is  an  emi- 
nent exemplification,  of  that  proverbial  expression, 
which  is  commonly  used  at  this  day.  In  the  moxint  of 
difficulty,  or  in  the  very  crisis  of  need,  when  matters 
seem  to  be  irretrievable  and  desperate,  then  the  I.ora 
appears  as  a  present  help.  Man's  extremity  is  God's 
opportunity."  See  Gen.  xxii.  14. 

t  Heb.  XI.  17.  "  By  faith,  Abraham,  when  he  was 
tried,  offered  up  his  son  Isaac."  The  faith  of  which 
such  glorious  things  are  spoken,  to  which  such  ad- 
mirableachievements  are  ascribed,  through  this  whole 
chapter,  was  a  faith  in  the  "  seed  of  the  woman,"  the 
promised  Messiah.  Or,  could  it  be  demonstrated, 
(which,  I  will  venture  to  conclude,  is  impossible,! 
that,  in  all  these  heroic  instances  of  obedience,  there 
was  no  believing  regard  to  Christ ;  no  apprehension 
of  his  unspeakable  love;  no  application  of  his  trans- 
cendent merits !  our  argument  would  not  lose  its 
force,  but  strike  with  redoubled  energy.  For,  if  a 
belief  in  very  inferior  manifestations  of  the  divine 
goodness,  faithfulness  and  power,  wrought  so  efficaci- 
ously on  those  ancient  worthies:  how  much  more 
victoriously  must  the  same  principle  act,  under  far 
brighter  displavs  of  all  the  supreme  perfections,  in  the 
person  of  Jesus  Christ !  I  would  only  add,  that  so 
long  as  this  chapter  remains  in  the  Bible,  it  will  fur- 
nish an  unanswerable  confutation  of  those  objections, 
which  suppose  the  doctrine  of  faith  to  have  an  un- 
kindly influence  on  religious  or  virtuous  practice. 
Against  all  such  cavils,  it  will  stand  fast  fo"-  evermore 
as  the  moon,  and  as  the  faithful  witness  in  heaven. 
•  t  He  seems  to  have  expected  not  only  the  certain, 
but  the  immediate  restoration  of  his  slain  son  ;  that 
he  should  be  revi\'ed  on  the  very  spot,  before  he  left 
the-t)lace,  so  as  to  accompany  his  return.  For  hesays 
to  his  servants,  Not  I,  but  wc  will  go,  and  worship, 
and  return,  ver.  5. 


LETTER  XII. 


40& 


be  called,"  the  patriarch  doubted  not  but 
the  promise  woidd,  in  a  way  known  to  in- 
finite wisdom,  be  punctually  accomplished. 
Hence  he  made  no  dispute,  and  felt  no  re- 
luctance. His  faith  banished  every  uneasy 
apprehension  ;  and  neither  fear  nor  sorrow 
had  place  in  his  breast.  By  faith  he  was 
enabled,  speedily  and  cheerfully,  without  so 
much  as  a  parting  tear,*  to  obey  this  un- 
paralleled precept. 

And  if  all  this,  which  would  otherwise 
have  been  utterly  impracticable,  was  wrought 
by  faith,  you  need  not  suspect  of  weakness 
and  insufficiency  so  approved  a  principle. 
Far  from  enervating,  it  will  invigorate  every 
good  disposition  ;  and  instead  of  damping, 
will  give  life  to  every  religious  duty.  Cher- 
ish faith,  and  you  will  of  course  cultivate 
obedience.  Water  this  root,  and  the 
branches  of  universal  godliness  will  assur- 
edly partake  the  beneficial  effects ;  will 
spread  their  honours,  and  bring  forth  their 
fruits.  Through  the  power  of  faith,  the 
saints  have  wrought  righteousness  in  all  its 
magnanimous  and  heroic  acts.  The  doc- 
trine of  faith  is  called  by  St.  Paul  "  a  doc- 
trine according  to  godliness,"  1  Tim.  vi.  3, 
exquisitely  contrived  to  answer  all  the  ends, 
and  secure  every  interest  of  real  piety.  The 
grace  of  faith  St.  Jude  styles  "  our  most 
holy  faith,"  Jude  ver.  20,  intimating,  that 
it  is  not  only  productive  of  holiness,  but 
that  the  most  refined  and  exalted  holiness 
arises  from  this  stock. 

Let  us  then  be  diligent  to  exercise,  and 
carefid  to  increase,  faith  in  Jesus  Christ. 
Let  us  maintain  the  same  zealous  solicitude 


*  This  account  is  so  very  extraordinary,  that  I 
shall  not  be  surprised  if  the  reader  finds  some  diffi- 
culty in  giving  nis  assent  to  it;  especially,  as  he  may 
have  accustomed  himself  to  form  very  different  con- 
ceptiuiis  of  this  remarkable  afl'air;  and  may  possibly 
be  confirmed  in  a  different  train  of  ideas,  by  seeing  a 
representation  of  the  story  in  a  celebrated  print,  where 
the  father  appears  clasping  his  son  in  a  tender  em- 
brace ;  bedewnig  him  with  tears,  and  suffering  as 
much  through  grief,  as  the  devoted  youth  is  going  to 
suffer  by  the  knife.  But  the  engraver,  I  apprehend, 
had  not  so  attentively  examined  the  circumstances  of 
the  sacretl  narrative,  not  so  carefully  compared  them 
with  other  passages  of  scripture,  as  a  judicious  and 
worthy  friend  of  mine;  from  whom  I  learned  to  con- 
sider this  wonderful  transaction  in  the  above-repre- 
sented view.  And  I  must  confess,  the  more  I  revolve 
it  in  my  mind,  the  more  I  am  convinced  of  its  pro- 
priety. 

I  flatter  myself,  the  reader  will  be  of  the  same  opi- 
nion, if  he  i)leases  to  consult  the  tenth  chapter  of  Le- 
viticus,  where  Nadab  and  Abihu,  the  sons  of  Aaron, 
are  devoured  by  fire  from  before  the  Lord.  Yet 
Aaron  is  not  allowed  to  mourn,  even  at  such  a  terri- 
ble and  afllictive  visitation.  And  when,  through  the 
frailty  of  human  nature,  he  could  not  wlioUy  refrain, 
he  durst  not  presume  to  eat  of  the  sin-offering.  "  Such 
things,"  says  he,  "have  bf  fallen  me ;  if  I  had  eaten  of 
the sin-ofl'ering,  should  it  have  been  accepted  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord  ?"  Let  me  add,  that  we  find  not  the 
least  indication  of  such  agonizing  sorrow,  nor  indeed 
of  any  sorrow  at  all,  in  the  histor>'  as  related  by  Mo- 
ses. Neither  could  Abraham  have  been  a  proper 
type  of  the  eternal  I'ather,  making  his  only  begotten 
hon  a  sacrifice  for  sin,  if  he  had  not  willingly  offered 
up  Isaac.  Indeed  to  offer  willingly,  seems  to  have 
been  absolutely  necessary,  in  every  acceptal)le  obla- 
tion, and  every  religious  service.  See  2  Cor.  ix.7>  1 
Chron.  xxviii.  9. 


for  this  leading  capital  grace,  as  the  renown- 
ed Epaminondas  expressed  for  his  shield. 
When  that  gallant  general  was,  in  an  en- 
gagement with  the  enemy,  struck  to  the 
ground  ;  his  soldiers  carried  him  off,  breath- 
less and  fainting,  to  his  tent.  The  very  mo- 
ment he  opened  his  eyes,  and  recovered  the 
use  of  speech,  he  asked — not  whether  his 
wound  was  mortal,  not  whether  his  troops 
were  routed,  but  whether  his  shield  was 
safe  ? — May  we  be  enabled,  my  dear  friend, 
to  keep  our  shield  safe  !  May  we  be  strong,, 
be  steady,  be  lively  in  faith  !  Then  I  doubt 
not  we  shall  give  glory  to  God,  receive  com- 
fort to  ourselves,  and  abound  in  the  works 
of  the  Lord. 

Nothing  can  be  more  pertinent  to  my 
purpose  than  the  apostle's  prayer,  "  That 
we  may  know  what  is  the  hope  of  our  call- 
ing in  Christ  Jesus,  and  what  is  the  exceed- 
ing greatness  of  his  power  to  themward  who 
believe."  And  nothing  can  be  more  expres'- 
sive  of  the  very  soul  of  your  affectionate 

ASPASIO. 


LETTER  XII. 

AspAsio  TO  Theron. 

Dear  Theron, — It  is  very  probable  while 
I  am  reading  yours,  you  are  perusing  mine. 
But  how  unlike  is  my  friend  to  the  repre- 
sentation he  receives !  How  unlike  the  sa- 
tisfied, unsuspecting,  cheerful  Abraham ! 
Why  this  dejected  air  in  your  temper  ?  Why 
those  pensive  strokes  in  your  letter  ?  Let 
me  anticipate  your  reply,  and  make  answer 
to  myself.  This  gloom,  I  trust,  is  a  sigii 
of  approaching  day.  Just  before  the  morn- 
ing dawm,  the  nocturnal  darkness  is  black- 
est :  And  just  before  the  appearance  of  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  the  peifitent's  dis- 
tress is  frequently  the  deepest  I  promise 
myself  the  hour  is  at  hand  which  will 
"  put  off  your  sackcloth,  and  gird  you  with 
gladness." 

Another  favourable  presage  is,  that  you 
take  the  direct  and  certain  way  to  obtain 
substantial  comfort.  The  righteousness  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  after  which  you  in- 
quire, about  which  you  are  solicitous,  isa  nevei 
failing  spniig  of  consolation:  because  it  acqiuts 
from  ;dl  sin ;  secures  from  all  condemnation , 
and  renders  the  believer  unblamable  and 
unreprovable  in  the  sight  of  God.  There, 
fore  says  the  holy  Ghost,  "  His  name  is  as 
ointment  poiu'ed  forth,"  Cant.  i.  3  ;  even 
that  divinely-precious  name,  by  which  he 
has  been  celebrated  in  the  preceding  epistles; 
by  which  he  is  distinguished  in  the  scrip- 
tiu-es  of  truth  ;  by  which,  I  hope,  he  will  be 
more  and  more  revealed  in  my  Theron's 
mind, — "  The   Lord    our    righteousness." 


406 


THEnON  AND  ASPASIO. 


The  discovery  of  him  under  this  most  ami- 
able and  glorious  capacity,  will  indeed  be 
like  breaking  open  a  vial  of  the  richest  un- 
guents ;  which  not  only  fill  the  room,  and 
regale  the  sense  with  their  delightful  fra- 
grance, but  refresh. the  spirits,  and  "  rejoice 
the  veiy  heart."  Might  my  writing,  or  my 
discourse,  be  as  the  alabaster  box,  to  con- 
tain, to  convey,  and  present  these  reviving 
odours  ;  how  highly  should  I  think  myself 
honoured,  and  how  signally  my  endeavours 
blessed ! 

You  ask,  "  How  'this"  righteousness  of 
the  divine  Redeemer  becomes  ours  ?"  It  is 
a  question  which  I  receive  with  the  utmost 
pleasure  ;  and,  with  equal  pleasure,  shall  at 
tempt  an  answer.  Or  rather,  as  the  Spirit 
of  our  God  prompted  the  first,  may  the  same 
unerring  Guide  suggest  the  last !  This  he 
iias  abundantly  done  by  his  prophets  and 
apostles ;  so  that  I  need  only  have  recourse 
to  their  wTitings,  and  collect  some^  of  the 
hints  which  lie  treasured  up  in  those  store- 
houses of  wisdom. 

There  we  are  often  to  .d  of  union  with 
Christ.  Believers  are  said  to  be  "inChrist," 
Col.  i.  2 ;  and  to  be  "  one  with  Christ," 
Heb.  ii.  11.  What  is  still  higher,  and  im- 
plies a  greater  degree  of  nearness,  they  are 
"  members  of  his  body,  of  his  flesh,  and  of 
his  bones,"  Eph.  v.  30.  And,  which  de- 
notes the  most  intimate  connexion  imagin- 
able," They  that  are  joined  to  the  Lord  Jesus, 
are  one  Spirit,  1  Cor.  vi.  17,  with  him ! 
As  these  expressions  appear  dark,  and  their 
sense  lies  deep,  it  has  pleased  our  all-con- 
descending Instructor  to  illustrate  them  by 
a  variety  of  significant  types  and  lively  si- 
militudes. This  remark  very  opportunely 
reminds  me  of  an  engagement  which,  some 
time  ago,  1  undertook  to  execute,  but  have 
hitherto  omitted — to  make  it  evident  that 
the  blessed  doctrine  for  which  we  have  been 
pleading,  "  is  deducible  from  several  scrip- 
ture images."  A  short  descant  upon  some 
of  the  principal,  \vill,  I  hope,  at  once  dis- 
charge my  former  obligation,  and  satisfy  your 
present  inquiry. 

This  was  shadowed  forth  by  the  costly, 
odoriferous,  flomng  unguent,  poured  upon 
Aaron's  head  ;  "  which  ran  down  upon  his 
beard,  and  descended  to  the  skirts*  of  his 
clothing."  Psalm  cxxxiii.  2.  So  the  merits 
of  our  great  High  Priest  are  derived  down 
to  all  the  faithful ;  even  those  of  the  mean- 
est station  in  life,  and  the  lowest  attain- 
ments in  religion. 

Was  it  not  typified  by  that  instructive 
vision  which  the  prophet  Zechariah  saw  ? 
'•  I  have  looked,  and  behold  !  a  candlestick 
all  of  gold,  with  a  bowl  upon  the  top  of  it. 


•  What  we  render  .ikirts,  is,  in  the  original,  t/ie 
m'^ulh,  or,  as  the  word  is  translated,  Job  xxx.  ]l>,  the 
tolinr  of  his  garments. 


and  his  seven  lamps  thereon,  and  seven  pipes 
to  the  seven  lamps,  which  were  upon  the 
top  thereof;  and  two  olive-trees  by  it,  one 
upon  the  right  side  of  the  bowl,  and  the 
other  upon  the  left  side  thereof;  which, 
through  two  golden  pipes,  empty  the  golden 
oil  out  of  themselves."  Zech.  iv.  2,  .3, 12. 
The  bowl  and  the  lamps  were  a  proper  em- 
blem of  believers  who  are,  by  nature,  dry 
vessels,  and  destitute  of  all  good  ;  yet  should 
shine  as  lights  in  the  midst  of  a  crooked 
and  perverse  generation.  The  olive-trees, 
arrayed  in  verdture,  and  abounding  with  sap ; 
always  emptying  themselves,  yet  ever  full ; 
are  a  very  just  representation  of  Christ,  of 
his  unchangeable  love,  and  his  inexhaustible 
grace.  The  golden  pipes,  through  which 
the  olive  branches  transmit  their  oil,  seem 
to  be  figurative  of  faith,  in  its  various  and 
repeated  actings.  By  these  channels  of 
conveyance,  the  unspeakable  benefits  of 
a  Redeemer  are  communicated  to  our  souls, 
and  replenish  those  empty  basins. 

Another  type  the  apostle  mentions : 
"  The  first  Adam,"  he  says,  "was  a  figure 
of  him  that  was  to  come."  Rom.  v.  14. 
So  eminent  a  figure,  and  corresponding  in 
so  many  instances,  that  he  styles  our  "  Lord 
Jesus  the  last  Adam."  1  Cor.  xv.  45.  And 
why  ?  Because,  like  the  first,  he  was  a  co- 
venant head  to  his  people,  and  transacted  in 
their  stead.  Insomuch  that  what  he  did, 
and  what  he  suffered,  both  are  placed  to 
their  account.  Is  Adam's  sin  imputed  to 
all  his  natiual  offspring?  So  is  Christ's 
righteousness  to  all  his  spiritual  seed.  The 
consequences  of  both  render  the  doctrine 
more  intelligible,  and  the  tnith  more  unde- 
niable. All  men  are  "judged,  condemned, 
dead,"  Rom.  v.  15,  16,  doomed  inevitably 
to  the  death  of  the  body,  and  justly  liable 
to  the  death  of  the  soul,  on  the  score  of 
Adam's  transgression.  All  believers  are 
"  acquitted,  justified,  saved  ;"  Rom.  v.  19, 
21,  saved  from  the  first  death,  and  made 
heirs  of  the  resurrection ;  saved  from  the 
second  death,  and  entitled  to  life  eternal, 
by  virtue  of  Christ's  obedience. 

This  union  ^vith  Christ  was  not  only  pre- 
figured by  tj^pes,  but  is  displayed  by  a  va- 
riety of  similitudes  taken  from  the  most  fa- 
miliar occurrences  of  life  ;  by  which  it  ap- 
pears to  be  our  divine  Master's  will,  that 
we  should  live  under  the  habitual  belief  o( 
this  momentous  truth,  and  in  the  constant 
enjoyment  of  this  distinguished  privilege — 
You  cannot  visit  a  friend,  or  view  yoiu- 
children  ;  you  cannot  enter  your  garden, 
discourse  with  your  spouse,  or  contemplate 
your  o^vn  body,  without  a  representation  and 
a  remembrancer  of  this  precious  blessing. 

Christ  says  to  his  disciples,  "  Henceforth 
I  call  you  not  servants,  but  friends."  John 
XV.  15.  Friends  are  a  second  self.  St. 
Paul,  speaking  of  Ontsimus,   uses  this  re- 


LETTEB  XIL 


407 


markable  ))lii'a.se.  "  Receive  him  as  my- 
self," and,  which  is  still  more  emphatical, 
"  Receive  him,  that  is  mine  own  bowels." 
Philem.  12,17.  Is  not  Christ's  friendship 
of  the  most  tender  and  exalted  kind  ?  Doubt- 
less it  must  be  equal,  doubtless  it  nnist  be 
superior  to  Jonathan's — Jonathan  loved 
David  as  his  own  soul  :  But  Christ  loved 
sinners  with  a  love  stronger  than  death. 
They  were  dearer  to  him  than  his  own  in- 
estimable life Jonathan  exposed   himself 

to  imminent  danger,  in  vindicating  David's 
conduct.  Jesus  surrendered  himself  to  cer- 
tain death  in  making  reconciliation  for  our 
offences. — Jonathan  interceded  once  and 
again  with  his  father  in  David's  behalf. 
Christ  ever  liveth,  to  plead  his  blood,  and 
make  intercession  for  transgressors.  "  Jo- 
nathan stripped  himself  of  the  robe  that 
was  upon  him  to  give  it  to  David,  and  his 
garment,  even  to  his  sword,  and  his  bow, 
and  his  girdle."  1  Sam.  xviii.  4.  Our  Re- 
deemer, without  stripping  himself,  has  cloth- 
ed us  (such  is  the  prerogative  of  a  divine 
person  !)  with  the  robe  of  his  righteousness, 
and  with  the  garment  of  liis  salvation.  He 
has  consigned  over  to  us  all  the  merit  of 
his  holy  life  and  propitiatory  death. 

Christ  stands  related  to  his  people,  not 
as  a  friend  only,  but  as  a  parent.  He  is 
called  by  a  prophet,  "  The  everlasting  Fa- 
ther," Isa.  G.  9;  and  we  are  said  by  an 
apostle  to  be  his  "  children,"  Heb.  ii.  13. 
Children  look  upon  themselves  as  interest- 
ed in  the  wealth  of  their  parents.  They 
expect,  and  not  without  reasonable  gi'ound, 
to  reap  benefit  from  it  while  the  parents 
live,  and  to  become  possessors  of  it,  when 
they  die.  Accordingly,  the  father  says  in 
the  gospel,  "  Son,  all  that  I  have  is  thine," 
Luke  XV.  31.  Since  the  high  and  holy 
Ennnanuel  vouchsafes  to  be  our  Father,  can 
we  suppose  him  less  generous  than  an  earth- 
ly parent'?  or  can  we  imagine  that  his  children 
shall  have  less  to  hope  than  the  heirs  of  an 
earthly  progenitor  ?  May  we  not,  ought  we 
not,  to  regard  all  his  communical)lc  goods, 
all  the  benefits  resulting  from  his  merito- 
rious sufferings  and  perfect  obedience,  as  our 
portion  ?  Especially  since  he  is  the  testator 
also,  Heb.  ix,  17  ;  has  bequeathed  them 
to  us  by  will,  and  having  submitted  to  death, 
they  become  legally  ours. 

"  I  am  the  Vine,"  says  our  Lord,  "  ye  are 
the  branches,"  John  xv.  5.  They  who  be- 
lieve, are  ingrafted  into  Christ.  Take  no- 
tice of  a  cyon.  What  are  the  consequences 
of  its  ingrafture?  It  is  embodied  with  the 
substance  of  the  tree,  and  partakes  of  its 
fatness.  The  sap,  imbibed  by  the  root, 
circulates  into  it,  gives  it  vegetable  life,  fills 
it  with  buds,  decks  it  with  blossoms,  and 
loads  it  with  fruit.  If  then  we  are  one 
with  Christ,  as  much  as  the  branch  is  one 
with  the  stock,  it  must  follow,  even  upon 


the  prindplre  of  common  experience,  tlmt 
his  wisdom  is  ours,  to  enlighten  us ;  his 
righteoustiess  is  ours,  to  justify  us;  bis 
Spirit  is  ours,  to  sanctify  us  ;  his  redemp- 
tion is  ours,  to  make  us  completely  and 
eternally  happy. 

Christ  is  united  to  his  people  by  a  tie 
closer  and  dearer  than  the  parental.  They 
are  not  only  his  children,  but  his  spouse. 
He  is  often  called  their  bridegroom,  and  is 
not  ashamed  to  avow  the  tender  engage- 
ment; "  I  will  betroth  thee  unto  me  for  ever. 
Yea,  I  will  betroth  thee  unto  me  in  righte- 
ousness, and  in  judgment,  and  in  loving- 
kindness,  and  in  mercies.  I  will  even  be- 
troth thee  unto  me  in  faithfulness,"  Hos. 
ii.  19,  20.  The  condescending  God  multi- 
plies, diversifies,  accumulates  his  words  ; 
and  this  with  admirable  jiropriety,  as  well 
as  surpassing  goodness.  The  honour  i?  so 
high,  and  the  favour  so  great,  we  should 
hardly  know  how  to  believe  it,  and  hardly 
venture  to  apply  it.  Lest,  therefore,  by  a 
single  expression,  it  should  not  be  sufficient- 
ly established,  it  stands  ratified  by  repeated 
asseverations,  and  with  all  the  energy  of 
language ;  so  that,  be  the  grace  ever  so  as- 
tonishing, we  are  assured  the  fact  is  equally 
certain,  he  that  is  our  Maker,  is  all  our 
Husband.  Isa.  liv.  5. 

Let  us  consider  what  follows  upon  such 
an  union.  We  may  take  for  an  example 
the  case  of  Boaz  and  Ruth.  Soon  as  their 
nuptials  were  solemnized,  she  that  was  poor 
became  rich  ;  from  a  gleaner  in  the  field  she 
commenced  mistress  of  the  harvest ;  and 
from  abiding  by  the  maidens  had  a  seat  at 
the  master's  table.  And  if  we  are  united 
to  Christ  by  a  marriage-contract,  the  same 
effects  will  take  place.  We  that  were  poor, 
are  rich  in  him  ;  we  who  had  nothing,  pos- 
sess all  things  in  Christ ;  we  that  dwell  iu 
dust,  are  made  to  sit  together  with  our  di- 
vine Husband  in  heavenly  places,  Eph.  ii. 
G. 

If  you  choose  some  modern  exemplifica- 
tion, what  can  be  more  pertinent  than  the 
remarkable  instance  of  your  neighbour  Ari- 
etta '?  She  was  lately  left  a  widow,  by  the 
dissolute  and  extravagant  BcUario  ;  her  cir- 
cumstances miserably  embarrassed,  and  the 
little  estate  deeply  mortgaged  ;  her  friends 
looked  shy,  and  her  creditors  became  clam- 
orous ;  scarce  a  day  passed,  but  it  made 
some  new  discovery  of  debts  contracted  by 
the  deceased  ;  so  tliat  the  affairs  of  the  sur- 
vivor appeared  with  a  more  melancholy  as- 
pect, and  in  a  less  retrievable  condition. 
But  having  won,  first  the  compassion,  then 
the  affection,  of  the  wealthy  and  illustrious 
Philander,  how  happily  is  the  face  of  things 
altered !  All  her  debts  devolve  upon  him, 
and  iill  his  dignity  is  derived  to  her.*      He 


•  The  tlemands  of  the  law  are  perfect  obedience : 


408 


THERON  AND  ASPA610. 


etands  renponsible  for  whatever  she  owes  ; 
and  she  is  a  sharer  in  whatever  he  possesses. 
Though  little  less  than  ruined  by  her  late 
husband,  she  is  more  than  restored  by  her 
present;  and  has  reason  to  rejoice  in  his 
affluence,  and  to  glory  in  his  honours.  Have 
not  we  also  reason  to  rejoice  in  our  heavenly 
Bridegroom — since  a  far  more  glorious  ex- 
change subsists  between  him  and  his  mysti- 
cal spouse  ?  He  has  bore  the  curse,  that  we 
may  inherit  the  blessing.  Sin  was  charged 
on  him,  that  righteousness  might  be  imput- 
ed to  us.  In  a  word,  he  has  sustained  all 
our  miseries,  that  he  might  impart  to  us  all 
his  benefits.  Has  the  law  any  demand  ? 
It  must  go  to  him  for  satisfaction.  Have 
we  any  wants  ?  We  may  look  to  him  for  a 
supply ;  to  him,  Theron,  "  in  whom  it  has 
pleased  the  Father  that  all  fulness  should 
dwell."  Col.  i.  19. 

If  any  thing  can  express  an  union  more 
intimate  and  inseparable  than  the  conjugal, 
it  is  that  of  the  members  with  the  head. 
And  this  image  is  used  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
to  shadow  forth  the  connexion  between 
Christ  and  the  faithful.  He  is  the  "  head 
over  all  things,"  with  respect  to  rule  and  su- 
premacy, but  a  head  of  union  and  influence, 
with  respect  '•  to  the  Church."  Eph.  i.  22. 
The  head  and  the  members  constitute  one 
natural,  Christ  and  his  church  compose 
one  mystical  body.  What  kindness  is 
done,  what  injury  is  offered  to  the  mem- 
bers, the  head  regards  them  as  done  to 
itself.  Accordingly,  Christ  says  to  the 
outrageous  Saul,  who  made  havoc  of  the 
church,  "  Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutes!  thou 
me  ?"  Acts  ix.  i.  He  declares,  concerning 
those  indigent  Christians  to  whose  necessi- 
ties we  administer  relief ;  "  Inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  them,  ye  have  done  it  unto 
me."  Matth.  xxv.  40.  The  animal  spirits 
formed  in  the  head,  are  formed  for  the  be- 
nefit of  the  whole  body,  and  designed  for 
the  use  of  all  the  members.  So  the  righte- 
ousness wrought  by  Jesus  Christ,  is  wrought 
out  for  his  whole  mystical  body,  and  intend- 
ed for  the  advantage  of  all  his  people ;  to 
be  the  cause  of  their  justification,  and  the 
purchase  of  their  salvation. 

Being  then  so  nearly  related,  so  closely 
united  to  the  blessed  Jesus,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  believers  are  now  loved  with  the  same 
fatherly  love,  and  will  hereafter  be  partakers 
of  the  same  heavenly  glory.  What  might 
we  not  expect  from  the  divine  Redeemer, 
if  he  vouchsafed  to  acknowledge  but  one  of 
those  endearing  names  ?  Since  he  has  en- 
gaged himself  to  us  by  all  the  ties  of  affinity 
and  affection,  may  we  not  promise  ourselves, 


Thou  Shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart. 
To  which,  in  case  of  disobedience,  is  superadded  con- 
(Hpn  punishment,  "  Cursed  is  he  that  coatinueth  not 
»n  »U  things," 


and  with  the  assurance  of  hope,  every  good 
thing;  "  even  all  the  fulness  of  God,"  Eph. 
iii.  19,  our  Saviour?  Does  not  each  of 
these  tender  relations,  subsisting  between 
Christ  and  his  saints,  imply  an  entire  pro- 
perty in  one  another,  and  a  mutual  partici- 
pation of  all  that  belongs  to  either? — "  My 
beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his, — I  dare  not 
say,  is  the  posy  of  the  mystical  ring  ;  but  it 
is  the  undoubted  effect  of  this  divine  union. 

How  pleasing,  yet  how  amazing  the 
thought !  Shall  we,  who  say  to  corruption, 
"  Thou  art  my  Father ;"  and  to  the  worm, 
"  Thou  art  my  mother  and  my  sister,"  Job 
xvii.  14,  shall  we  be  permitted  to  say,  con- 
cerning the  Head  of  all  principality  and 
power,  "  We  are  members  of  his  body,  of 
his  flesh,  and  of  his  bones  ?''  Eph.  v.  30. 
What  a  mercy  might  we  esteem  it,  not  to 
be  confounded  before  a  Majesty  so  exalted 
and  sublime  !  What  a  favour,  to  obtain  the 
least  propitious  regard  from  the  King  im- 
mortal and  invisible  !  What  an  honour,  to 
be  admitted  into  his  family,  and  numbered 
among  the  meanest  of  his  servants  !  But 
to  be  his  adopted  children  ;  to  be  his  es- 
poused bride ;  to  be  the  members  of  his 
sacred  body  ;  to  have  him  for  our  everlast- 
ing Father,  him  for  the  bridegroom  of  our 
souls,  him  for  our  heavenly  head,  who  is  the 
Maker  of  all  worlds,  and  the  Sovereign  of 
all  creatures  !  What  words  can  duly  cele- 
brate, what  heart  can  sufficiently  admire, 
the  condescension  and  the  love  of  our  ador- 
able Jesus  ?  or  who  can  justly  question  the 
fruits  of  such  a  fellowship,  and  the  conse- 
quences of  such  an  union  ?  Question  them  ! 
No,  the  fruits  are  infallibly  sure,  as  the  pri- 
vilege is  inexpressibly  great. 

Let  me  once  again  introduce  a  great  and 
venerable  witness  of  both  these  truths  : 
"  Laban  spake  high,  when  he  said,  '  These 
children  are  mine,  and  all  these  things  thou 
seest  are  mine."  But  how  high  and  glori- 
ous is  that  which  may  be  said  of  a  justified 
person  :  All  thouhearest  of  Christ  is  thine; 
his  life  is  thine,  his  death  is  thine,  his  obe- 
dience, merit,  spirit,  all  thine!'*  Rich  and 
important  words  !  than  which  nothing  can 
give  us  a  juster  or  fuller  explanation  of  the 
apostle's  assertion,  "  We  are  partakers  of 
Christ."   Heb.  iii.  14. 

When  some  foreign  ladies,  of  the  firet 
quality,  paid  a  visit  to  I^eonidas'  queen,  the 
talk  turned  upon  their  rich  clothes,  their 
costly  jewels,  and  splendid  equipage.  After 
they  had  severally  displayed  each  her  own 
grandeur,  they  inquired  after  her  majesty's 
finery — what  she  had  to  distinguish  her 
from  the  vulgar  ?  She  replied,  "  My  illus- 
trious husband."  What  else  ?  "  My  illus- 
trious husband."     And  as  often  as  they  re- 


'  See  Dr.  Lightfoot's  Works,  vol.  ii.  p.  lOT?- 


DIALOGUE  XV. 


409 


peated  the  same  question,  she  returned  the  I 
same  answer.  Could  this  queen  speak  in  j 
such  admiring,  rejoicing,  self-gratuiating 
terms  of  her  royal  consort  ?  And  shall  not 
vile  sinners  look  upon  their  Redeemer — 
that  all-glorious,  yet  all-condescending  bride- 
groom ;  who  is  full  of  grace  and  truth,  full 
of  merit  and  righteousness — shall  not  they 
much  more  look  upon  him  as  their  honour 
and  their  joy ;  the  object  of  their  depend- 
ence, and  the  cause  of  their  boasting  ? 

I  should  find  it  difficult  to  refrain  from 
the  farther  prosecution  of  so  engiiging  a  to- 
pic, did  I  not  propose  to  wait  upon  my 
Theron  very  speedily.  Then  I  shall  have 
an  opportunity  of  pouring  into  his  bosom  all 
the  fulness  of  my  heart,  with  regard  to  this 
delightful  subject.  In  the  mean  time,  let 
me  exhort  my  dear  friend  to  be  of  good  com- 
fort. "  Heaviness  may  endure  for  a  night, 
but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning,"  Psalm  xxx. 
5.  This  sorrow  of  which  you  complain,  may 
be  the  seed  of  spiritual  and  eternal  consola- 
tion. 

While  I  am  writing,  there'appears  full  in 
my  view  one  of  the  finest  rainbows  I  ever 
beheld.  It  compasseth  the  heavens  with  a 
glorious  circle  ;  so  glorious  that  it  is  no  dis- 
paragement of  the  almighty  Creator  to  say, 
"  the  hands  of  the  Most  High  have  bended 
it."  Ecclus.  xliii.  12.     On  what  foundation 


would  I  ask  is  that  stately  and  beautiful  arch 
raised  ?  From  what  source  do  all  its  ra- 
diant and  lovely  colours  spring  !  It  is  raised 
on  a  gloomy  assemblage  of  vapours  ;  and  all 
its  rich  tinctures  spring  from  a  louring  cloud. 
Thus  does  the  blessed  God,  on  a  conviction 
of  guilt  and  a  sense  of  ruin,  spread  faith, 
plant  holiness,  and  diffuse  gladness.  May 
all  these,  ere  long,  arise  in  my  Theron's 
breast !  and  each  be  bright  as  that  resplen- 
dent bow ;  lasting  as  the  sun  that  creates 
it ! 

In  the  mean  time,  it  is  the  ardent  wish  of 
my  soul,  and  shall  be  my  frequent  prayer  to 
God,  "  That  both  our  hearts  may  be  comfort- 
ed, being  knit  together  in  love,  unto  allriches 
of  the  full  assurance  of  understanding,"  Col. 
ii.  1,  in  this  great  mystery  of  godliness.  What 
vigour  of  expression,  what  exuberance  of 
ideas  ;  and,  above  all,  what  distinguished 
privileges  are  here? — Assurance — full  assur- 
ance— riches  of  the  full  assurance — all  rich- 
es of  the  full  assurance  of  understanding" — 
in  reference  to  oiu:  union  with  Christ,  and 
its  unutterably-precious  effects  !  Can  the 
orator  express  more  ?  Can  the  sinner  de- 
sire more  ?  Can  the  saint,  I  had  almost  said, 
can  the  archangel  enjoy  more  ? — May  this 
be  the  portion  of  my  dear  Theron,  and  of 
His  ever  faithful 

AsPASio. 


DIALOGUES. 


DIALOGUE  XV. 


AspASio  had  taken  leave  of  his  friend 
Camillns,  and  was  come  to  revisit  Theron, 
whose  thoughts  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  of 
much  fluctuation,  and  no  small  anxiety,  hop- 
ing that  some  proper  conversation  on  the 
grace  and  privileges  of  the  everlasting  gos- 
pel might  compose  and  comfort  his  mind, 
might,  while  his  heart  was  softened  by 
hiunbliiig  convictions,  fix  the  stamp  of  ge- 
nuine Christianity,  and  deliver  his  whole 
soul  into  the  mould*  of  evangelical  reli- 
gion. 


•  Deliver  into  the  Mould. — This  is  the  literal  trans- 
lation, and  exact  sense  of  St.  Paul's  phrase,  E/j  iv 
Ta^i'iai^riTi  tutov  ^i^a^ns,  Rom.  vi.  17iwhich,  as  it 
contains  a  beautiful  allusion,  conveys  also  a  very  in- 
structive adrnouition  ;  intinialiuf;,  that  our  nunds, 
all  iiliant  and  ductile,  should  t)r  conformed  to  the  re- 
fined precepts  of  the  gospel,  .as  liquid  metals  take  the 
fifjure  of  some  elegant  mould  iuto  which  they  are 
cast. 


When  sorrows  wound  the  breast,  as  ploughs  the  glebe« 
And  hearts  obdurate  feel  her  soft'nmg  shower. 
Her  seed  celestial  then  glad  Wisdom  sows ; 
Her  golden  harvests  triumph  in  the  soul. 

Night  T/ioiigMs. 

He  arrived  pretty  late  in  the  evening, 
and,  being  somewhat  wearied  with  the  jour- 
ney, soon  withdrew  to  his  repose.  The 
next  morning,  as  Theron  walked  abroad  to 
taste  the  cool  delights  of  the  dawn,  he  was 
agreeably  surprised  by  meeting  Aspasio. 

Ther.  So  soon  awake,  my  worthy  friend 
and  after  so  much  fatigue  on  the  preceding 
day  !  I  had  not  the  least  ex])ectation  of  yoiu" 
company  till  breakfast.  Then,  indeed,  I 
promised  myself  a  double  regale ;  the  re- 
freshments e-xhibited  on  the  table,  and  those 
"wholesome  words  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,"  1  Tim.  vi.  3,  which,  more  preci- 
ous than  manna,  drop — 

Asp.  How,  Theron  !  Have  you  alsolearn 
ed  those  soothing  aits,  which  polish  th 


410 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


speech,  to  deprave  our  sentiments  !  Could 
1  have  suspected  the  enchanting  Aviles  of 
flattery,  from  my  sincere,  my  tried,  my  bo- 
som friend  ? 

Ther.  Yoiu:  friend  is  still  sincere,  and 
his  words  are  very  remote  from  flattery. — 
How  welcome  to  the  wind-bound  mariner, 
weary  with  expectation,  and  sick  with  disap- 
pointments, is  the  visit  of  a  propitious  gale  ? 
How  welcome  to  the  fields,  parched  with 
drought  and  gaspingfor  moisture,  are  copious 
showers  of  rain  !  How  acceptable  to  the  Is- 
raelites, travelling  through  the  inhospitable 
desert,  and  pinhig  away  for  want  of  the 
fruits  of  the  earth,  was  the  mir.iculous 
supply  of  heavenly  bread!  Yet  neither  propi- 
tious gales  to  the  wind-bound  mariner,  nor 
copious  showers  to  the  thirsty  soil,  nor 
heavenly  bread  to  the  famished  Israelites, 
could  be  more  welcome  than  your  late  con- 
versation, and  later  correspondence,  to  my 
anxious  soul. 

Asp.  Why,  I  thought  you  looked  upon 
my  notions  as  chimerical.  Is  Theron  also 
become  credulous  ?  Like  one  of  us  weak- 
headed  believers,  has  he  quitted  the  strong- 
holds of  reason  ?  is  he  vanquished  by  the 
slingstone  of  faith  ?  or  can  he  submit  to  this 
strange  method  of  salvation,  by  embracing 
the  righteousness  and  relying  on  the  obe- 
dience of  another  ? 

Ther.  I  find  my  reason  was  a  feeble 
guide,  or  I  myself  not  faithful  to  its  genuine 
dictates-  Iwasblinded  with  prejudice;  I  was 
intoxicated  with  pride ;  a  vain  conceit  of 
my  moral  powers  betrayed  me,  as  I  fear  it 
has  betrayed  many,  into  a  contempt  of  the 
evangelical  righteousness.  I  held  what  I 
thought  an  honour  to  human  nature.  I  now 
retract  my  opinion  :  I  now  perceive,  that 
as  my  natural  light  coidd  not  discover  the 
way,  neither  can  my  personal  obedience  put 
me  in  possession  of  life  and  salvation.  My 
true  glory,  and  real  happiness,  I  would 
henceforth  derive  from  the  blessed  Jesus. 
No  more  banter,  Aspasio : — have  done  :  I 
am  serious,  and  very  much  in  earnest ;  so 
much  in  earnest,  that  if  all  my  acquaintance 
of  the  Pharisaical  turn,  or  if  all  my  bro- 
thers of  the  smile,  should  rally  me  on  the 
subject,  I  would  frankly  acknowledge  my 
error,  and  as  freely  sign  my  recantation. 

Asp.  My  dear  Theron,  I  applaud  your  re- 
solution. You  have  no  more  cause  to  be 
ashamed  of  such  a  practice,  than  Philip  had 
to  ^be  ashamed  of  the  imperfection  in 
his  limbs ;  when,  being  observed  to  go 
lame  with  a  wound  received  in  battle,  he 
had  this  consolation  suggested  by  one  of 
his  courtiers  :  "  Never  blush,  my  Royal  Sir, 
for  a  defect  which  puts  you  in  mind  of  your 
valour  every  step  you  take."  To  sacrifice 
our  prejudices  in  the  search  of  truth,  is  no 
less  honourable  than  to  be  marked  with  a 
scar  in  the  defence  of  our  countiy. 


I  beg  pardon  for  my  pleasantry.  Since 
you  are  so  very  serious,  a  gay  air  was  quite 
unseasonable.  You  cannot  often  complain 
that  I  am  guilty  of  this  fault.  Nor  can  you 
easily  imagine  the  satisfaction  I  shall  en- 
joy, if  either  my  letters  or  my  discourse 
have  administered  any  advantage  to  my  friend. 
I  shall  note  it  down  among  the  distinguish- 
ed blessings  of  my  life ;  and  have  an  addi- 
tional obligation  to  love  the  beneficent  au- 
thor of  all  good. 

But  as  I  cannot  be  a  furtherer  of  your 
happiness  without  the  greatest  delight,  so  I 
cannot  be  a  witness  of  your  solicitude  with- 
out a  painful  regret.  You  must  therefore 
permit  me  to  ask  the  cause  of  that  unusual 
vehemence  which  I  observe  in  your  speech, 
and  of  that  deep  concern  which  I  read  in 
your  countenance. 

Ther,  I  have  been  'considering  veiy  at- 
tentively, what  is  the  present  state,  and 
what  is  likely  to  be  the  final  condition  of 
my  soul. 

■ My  hopes  and  fears 

.Start  up  alarm'd;  and  o'er  life's  narrow  verge 
Look  down — on  what  ?  A  fathomless  abyss. 
A  vast  eternity  ! 

My  sins,  at  the  same  time,  like  an  armed 
host,  are  set  in  dreadful  array,  and  surround 
me  on  every  side.  .Justice,  like  an  injured 
and  incensed  foe,  unsheathes  the  sword, 
and  makes  a  loud  demand  for  vengeance. 
No  righteousness  of  my  o«ti  presents  itself, 
to  which  I  may  fly  for  refuge.  The  method 
of  salvation,  in  which  I  formerly  confided, 
is  a  bridge  broken  down  ;  and  leaves  me, 
without  any  possibility  of  escape,  abandon- 
ed to  the  approaching  enemy. 

To  a  person  in  such  deplorable  circum- 
stances, how  reviving,  how  delightfid,  is  the 
very  thought  of  being  interested  in  the  great 
Redeemer's  righteousness  !  I  do  not  wonder 
now  at  a  saying  of  Luther"s,  which  I  have 
sometimes  exploded  as  strangely  extrava- 
gant ;  "  That,  upon  the  discoveiy  of  this 
glorious  righteousness,  the  gates  of  Paradise 
seemed  to  fly  open  before  him,  and  the  dawn 
of  heaven  was  all  in  \'iew.'' 

Talking  in  this  manner,  they  came  to  an 
elevated  terrace ;  which,  about  an  hour  be- 
fore, had  been  shaved  by  the  scythe,  and 
emitted  all  the  freshness  of  new-mown 
herbage.  On  one  side,  a  fine  champaign 
country  stretched  its  wide  dimensions  ;  on 
the  other,  a  flower-garden  exhibited  the  last 
ornaments  of  the  year.  Here  you  might 
still  see  the  tufted  vermillion,  and  the  full- 
blown ivory,  glittering  through  spangles  of 
liquid  crystal.  There  you  might  trace  the 
footsteps  of  the  early  cattle,  by  many  a  re- 
cent print  on  the  dewy  lawn.  On  the 
walls  and  espaliers  autumn  had  spread  her 
stores,  and  was  beginning  to  beautify  their 
rinds  with  many  a  ruddy  streak,  or  to 
breathe  over  their  glossy  skhis  her  delicate 
and  inimitable  bloom. 


DIALOGUE  XV. 


411 


Asp.  See,  said  Aspasio,  the  wisdom  and 
benignity  which,  in  amiable  and  inseparable 
conjunction,  display  themselves  through  the 
whole  economy  of  the  universe  :  "  Crod 
has  made  every  thing  beautiful  in  his  time," 
Eccl.  iii.  1 1,  every  thing  serviceable  in  its 
place.  A  little  while  ago,  the  flowery 
meads  delighted  our  eyes,  and  the  melodi- 
ous birds  charmed  our  ears ;  now,  the 
tasteful  fruits  are  preparing  their  dainties, 
and  presenting  us  with  a  collation  to  regale 
our  palate.  The  whole  earth,  and  all  the 
seasons,  are  rich  with  our  Creator's  good- 
ness. Yea,  the  whole  earth,  and  all  that 
replenishes  it,  all  that  surrounds  it,  are  full 
of  his  presence.     He  it  is  who 

Wanns  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  thehreezc. 
Glows  in  the  stars,  and  blossoms  in  the  trees; 
Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  all  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent.* 

An  habitual  belief  of  this  truth  gives  na- 
ture her  loveliest  aspect,  and  lends  her  the 
most  consummate  power  to  please.  The 
breath  of  violets,  and  the  blush  of  roses  ; 
the  music  of  the  woods,  and  the  meanders 
of  the  stream  ;  the  aspiring  hill,  the  ex- 
tended plain,  and  fill  the  decorations  of  the 
landscape,  then  appear  in  their  highest  at- 
tractives,  then  touch  the  soul  with  the  most 
refined  satisfaction,  wlien  God  is  seen, 
when  God  is  heard,  and  God  enjoyed  in 
all.  Is  Theron  lost  in  thought,  and  de- 
prived of  speech  ?  Is  he  alone  silent  while 
all  thhigs  speak  their  Maker's  praise? 
Does  faith  throw  a  shade  over  the  works 
of  creation?  Does  it  not  heighten  their 
beauties  and  enliven  their  graces  ?  The 
religious  is  the  only  true  philosopher ;  and 
the  pleasures  of  imagination  never  acquire 
their  proper  relish,  till  they  are  ripened  by 
the  exercise  of  devotion.  With  this  view 
then,  since  my  friend  forbears,  let  me  at- 
tempt to  speak  ;  not  to  increase  his  know- 
ledge, but  to  cherish  faith,  and  cultivate 
devotion  in  us  both. 

The  spacious  canopyf  over  our  heads,  is 
painted  with  blue  ;  and  the  ample  carpet 
under  our  feet,  is  tinged  with  green.  These 
colours,  by  their  soft  and  cheering  qualities, 
yield  a  perpetual  refreshment  to  the  eyc:| 
whereas,  had  the  face  of  nature  glistered 
with  white,   or  glowed  with  scarlet,  such 


*  Pope's  Kthir.  Epist. 

■f  What  Aspa-sio  calls  the  canopy,  Isaiah  describes 
p'lS)  which  we  translate  "  as  a  curtain ;"  but  the 
exact  signification  is,  "  Sicut  tenue,  vel  tenuissimuni 
quid;"  "  Like  some  finely  attenuated  exp.inse."  Not 
like  the  curtains  of  the  covering  of  the  tabernacle, 
which  were  goats'  hair  and  ba(,lgers'  skins,  sl'.aggy  anil 
coarse;  but  like  some  very  fine  nieml)rane,  siriooth 
and  elegant,  niicly  ]i<)lished,  and  inimitably  delicate. 
Than  wbirb  lonniirison  nothing  can  more  perfectly 
correspond  with  the  aspect  of  the  sky. 


■ f!ay  green. 

Thou  smiling  nature's  universal  roI)e  ! 

United  light  and  shade!  where  the  sight  dwells, 

With  growing  strength,  and  ever  new  delight. 

Tliom9(in'i  SiD-in/;. 


ardent  and  dazzling  hues  woidd,  instead  of 
exhilarating,  have  fatigued  the  sight.  Be- 
sides, as  the  several  brighter  colours  are  in- 
terspersed, and  form  the  pictures  in  this 
magnificent  piece ;  the  green  and  the  blue 
constitute  an  admirable  ground,  which 
shows  them  all  in  their  highest  lustre,  and 
to  the  utmost  advantage.* 

Had  the  air  been  considerably  grosser,  it 
would  have  dimmed  the  rays  of  the  sun, 
and  darkened  the  cheerful  day  ;  oin-  lungs 
had  been  clogged  in  their  vital  functions  ; 
men  had  been  suffocated,  without  the 
strangling  noose  ;  or  drowned,  without  the 
overwhelming  flood.  Was  it  several  de- 
grees more  subtle,  birds  would  not  be  able 
to  wing  their  way  through  the  firmament ; 
nor  could  the  clouds  be  sustained  in  so  at- 
tenuated an  atmosphere.  It  woidd  elude 
the  organs  of  respiration  ;  we  should  gasp 
for  breath,  with  as  much  diiliculty,  and  with 
as  little  success,  as  fishes  out  of  their  na- 
tive element. 

The  ground  also  is  wrought  into  the  most 
proper  temperature.  Was  it  of  a  firmer  con- 
sistence, it  would  be  impenetrable  to  the 
plough,  and  inimanageable  by  the  spade. 
Was  it  of  a  laxer  composition,  it  would  be 
incapable  of  supporting  its  own  furniture. 
The  light  mould  would  be  swept  away  by 
the  whirling  winds  ;  or  the  oozy  glebe 
soaked  into  sloughs  by  the  descending  rains. 
Because  every  situation  suits  not  every 
plant,  but  that  which  is  a  nurse  to  one  often 
proves  a  stepmother  to  others  ;  therefore 
the  qualities  of  the  earth  are  so  abundantly 
diversified,  as  properly  to  accommodate 
every  species  of  vegetation.  We  have  a  va- 
riety of  intermediate  soils,  from  the  loose 
disjointed  sand,  to  the  stiff  cohesive  clay ; 
from  the  rough  projections  of  the  craggy 
clifl^,  to  the  softly-swelling  bed  of  the  smooth 
parterre. 

The  sea  carries  equal  evidences  of  a  most 
wise  and  gracious  ordination.  Was  it  larger, 
wc  should  want  land  for  the  purposes  of 
pasturage  and  the  operations  of  husbandry. 
AV^e  shoidd  be  destitute  of  sufficient  room 
for  mines  and  forests ;  oiu-  subterranean 
warehouses,  and  our  aerial  timber-yards. — 
Was  it  smaller,  it  would  not  be  capable  of 
recruiting  the  sky  with  a  proper  quantity  of 
vaporous  exhalations,  nor  of  supplying  the 
earth  with  the  necessary  quota  of  fructify- 
ing showers. 

Do  we  not  discern  very  apparent  strokes 
of  skill,  and  the  most  pregnant  proofs  of 
goodness,  in  each  individual  object  ?  in  the 


*  If  the  reader  has  patience  to  go  through  tlie  fol- 
lowing essay,  he  will  find  it,  in  the  issue,  not  altoge- 
ther foreign  to  the  main  subject.  If  he  pleases  to 
consider  it,  as  a  kind  of  practical  comnicnt,  in  that 
lovely  celebration  of  i)rovi(lcnlial  goodntss.  His  ten- 
der mercies  are  over  all  his  work.^ ;  this  uiay  possibly 
alleviate  the  toil  of  perusing,  and  reconcile  him  to 
the  length  of  the  descant. 


412 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


various  tenants  of  the  globe,  and  the  several  I  small  a  scantliiig  of  such  choice  delicacies 

would  voracious  man  resign  to  their  enjoy- 
ment? That  provision  may  be  made  for 
the  meanest  vagrant  of  the  air,  as  well 
as  for  the  most  renowned  sovereign  of  a 
nation,  there  is,  in  all  places,  a  large  growth 
of  shrubs,  covered  annually  with  a  harvest 
of  coarse  and  hardy  berries  ;  so  coarse  in 
their  taste,  that  they  are  unworthy  of  the 
acceptance  of  man  ;  so  hardy  in  their  make, 
that  they  endure  the  extremest  severities  of 
the  weather,  and  furnish  the  feathered  tribe 
with  a  standing  repast,  amidst  all  the  deso- 
lations of  winter. 

The  fir,  with  her  silver  bark,  and  shapely 
cone  ;  the  beech,*  w"ith  her  quivering  leaves 
and  embowering  shade,  are  stately  decora- 
tions of  our  rural  seats.  But,  if  there  were 
no  entangling  thickets,  no  prickly  thorns, 
where  would  the  farmer  procure  fences  so 
closely  wattled,  or  so  strongly  armed  ?  How 
could  he  guard  the  scene  of  his  labours,  or 
secure  his  vegetable  wealth  from  the  ilocks 
and  the  herds — those  roving  plunderers, 
which  accede  to  no  treaty,  but  that  of  forci- 
ble restraint,  submit  to  no  laws,  but  those 
of  the  coercive  kind  ? 

Most  people  are  fond  of  the  purslane's 
fleshy  leaves,  and  the  ramified  fatness  of  the 
brocoli ;  the  patato's  mealy  orbs,  and  the 
lentile's  succulent  pods.  We  spare  no  toil, 
we  grudge  no  ex])eiise,  to  have  them  flour- 
ish in  our  gardens,  and  served  up  at  our  ta- 
bles. But  there  are  innumerable  herbs, 
which  pass  under  the  contemptible  charac- 
ter of  weeds,  and  yet  are  altogether  as  de- 
sirable to  many  classes  of  creatures,  as  these 
culinary  gifts  to  mankind.  Who  shall  be 
at  the  pains  to  plant,  to  water,  to  cultivate, 
such  despicable  productions  ?  Man  would 
rather  extirpate  than  propagate  these  incum- 
brances of  his  acres.  Therefore  Provi- 
dence vouchsafes  to  be  their  gardener.  Pro- 
vidence has  wrought  off  their  seeds  into 
such  a  lightness  of  substance,  that  they 
are  carried  abroad  with  the  undulations  of 
the  air  ;  or,  if  too  heavy  to  be  wafted  by 
the  breeze,  they  are  fastened  to  %vings  of 
domi,  which  facilitate  their  flight ;  or  else 
are  enclosed  in  a  springy  case,  which,  forci- 
bly bursting,  shoots  and  spreads  them  on 
every  side.  By  some  such  means,  the  re- 
producing principle  is  disseminated,  the  uni- 
versal granary  is  filled,  and  the  universal 
board  furnished.  The  buzzing  insect,  and 
the  creeping  worm,  have  each  his  bill  of 
fai'e.       Each   enjoys  a  never-failing  treat. 


appurtenances  of  this  great  dwelling?  It 
is  needless  to  expatiate  upon  the  more 
eminent  and  conspicuous  beauties — all  that 
shines  in  the  heavens,  and  all  that  smiles  on 
the  earth.  These  speak  to  every  ear,  these 
show  to  eveiy  eye,  the  adorable  munificence 
of  their  Maker.  It  is  needless  to  launch 
iiito  the  praises  of  the  valleys,  delicately 
clothed  with  herbage ;  or  of  the  fields,  rich- 
ly replenished  with  corn.  Even  the  ragged 
rocks,  which  frown  over  the  flood  ;  the  ca- 
vemed  quarries,  which  yawn  amidst  the  land; 
together  with  the  mountains,  those  shape- 
less and  enormous  protuberances,  which 
seem  to  load  the  ground  and  encumber  the 
skies ;  even  these  contribute  their  share 
to  increase  the  general  pleasure,  and  aug- 
ment the  general  usefulness.  They  varie- 
gate the  prospect ;  raise  an  agi'eeable  horror 
in  the  beholder;  and  insjjire  his  breast  with 
a  religious  awe.  They  add  new  charms  to 
the  wide  level  of  our  plains  ;  and  shelter, 
like  a  screen,  the  warm  lap  of  om-  vales. 

We  are  delighted  with  the  solemn  gloom 
and  magnificent  aspect  of  the  forest.  One 
who  saw  the  cedars  of  Lebanon,  was  tran- 
sported with  admiration  at  their  ample 
trunks  and  towering  heads,  their  diffusive 
spread  and  verdant  gi-andeur.  Compared 
with  which  the  stately  elm  is  but  a  reed, 
and  the  branching  oak  a  mere  shrub.  Was 
our  sight  qualified  for  the  search,  we  should 
discover  a  symmetiy  and  a  dignity  altoge- 
ther as  perfect,  and  far  more  wonderful,  in 
those  groves  of  moss*  which  adhere  to  the 
rude  stone  -.  we  should  contemplate  with 
greater  surprise,  if  not  with  greater  rapture, 
those  diminutive  plantations,  which  strike 
their  hasty  roots  in  the  mouldy  confection, 
or  wave  their  curious  umbrage  over  the 
perished  pickle.f 

Who  is  not  charmed  with  the  vine,  and  its 
generous  warming  juices  ?  with  the  melon, 
and  its  delicious  cooling  pulp  ?  Yet,  were 
all  our  trees  to  produce  fruits  of  such  ex- 
alted  qualities,  or  of  such  an  agreeable  relish, 
what  would  become  of  the  birds?     How 


*  ?ee,  for  a  proof  of  this  remark,  the  explanation 
of  the  tenth  plate,  in  that  very  curious,  very  enter- 
taining, and  no  less  instructive  piece  entitled,  "  Mi- 
cographia  Restaurata ;"  where  our  author  compares 
the  size  of  this  httle  vegetable  with  the  dimensions 
of  those  vast  trees  which  grow  in  the  vigorous  cli- 
mates of  Guinea  and  Brazil ;  the  trunks  of  which  arc, 
according  to  the  report  of  travellers,  twenty  feet  in 
diameter,  wliereas  the  body  of  this  minute  plant  mea- 
sures no  more  than  the  sixtieth  part  of  an  inch.  .So 
that,  upon  a  calculation,  the  thickness  of  the  former 
exceeds  that  of  the  latter,  2,985,9f!4  times.  So  prodi- 
giously various  are  the  works  of  the  Creator. 

t  That  whitish  kirid  of  down,  which  shags  the  pu- 
trefying iiickle,  which  incrusts  the  surface  of  some 
corrupted  liquors,  and  constitutes  what  we  call  moul- 
diness,  is  really  a  cluster  of  little  plants.  Each  has  a 
root  and  a  stalk  ;  each  spreads  its  branches,  and  pro- 
duces seed  in  abundance. 

Radicpsque  suashabet,  exilemriue  coronam, 
t'rondes'iue.  fnietumnue  gcrit,  velut  ardua  quercus. 


»  The  fir,  the  beech,  and  such  like  trees,  are  called 
in  Hebrew,  D^bbrrJ  Isa.  vii.  19.  Which  word 
is  rendered,  but  I  think  very  improperly,  bushes.  It 
rather  signifies  the  grand  and  most  admired  plants. 
It  is  intended  as  a  contiast  to  the  coarse  and  despica- 
ble thorns,  mentioned  in  the  preceding  clause.  And 
both  taken  together  express  all  sorts  of  trees,  from 
the  towering  cedar  to  the  grovelling  shrub. 


DIALOGUE  XV. 


413 


pqniraleiit  to  our  finest  venison,  or  to  the 
♦•  fat  of  kidneys  of  wheat."* 

As  the  seeds  of  some  phints  ai-e  most 
Brtfidly  scattered  abroad  when  ripe,  the 
seeds  of  others  are  most  carefully  guarded 
till  they  come  to  maturity ;  and  by  both 
contrivances,  every  species  is  not  barely 
preserved,  but  in  a  manner  eternized.  Some 
are  lodged  in  the  centre  of  a  lai-ge  pulp, 
which  is  at  once  their  defence  and  their 
nourishment.  This  we  find  exemplified  in 
the  tasteful  apple  and  the  juicy  pear.  Some, 
besides  the  surrounding  pulp,  are  enclosed 
in  a  thick  shell,  hard  and  impenetrable  as 
stone.  We  cannot  pluck  and  eat  one  of 
those  do\\'ny  peaches,  or  encrimsoned  nec- 
tarines, which  so  beautifully  emboss  the 
wall,  without  finding  a  proof  of  this  precau- 
tion. Cast  your  eye  upon  the  walnuts, 
which  stud  the  branches  of  that  spreading 
tree.  Before  these  are  gathered,  the  increase 
of  the  cold,  and  the  emptiness  of  the  gar- 
dens, will  sharpen  the  appetite  of  the  birds. 
To  secure  the  fine  kernel  from  the  depre- 
dations of  their  busy  assailing  bills,  it  is 
fortified  with  a  strong  enclosure  of  wood, 
and  with  the  addition  of  a  disgustful  bitter 
rind. 

If  grass  was  as  scarce  as  the  Guemsey 
'  lily,  or  as  difficultly  raised  as  the  delicate 
tuberose,  how  certainly  and  how  speedily 
must  many  millions  of  quadruijcds  perish 
with  famine  !  Since  all  the  cattle  owe  their 
chief  subsistence  to  this  vegetable,  by  a  sin- 
gular beneficence  in  the  divine  economy, 
"  it  waiteth  not,"  like  the  corn-field  and  the 
garden-bed,  for  the  annual  labours  of  man, 
Micah  V.  7.  When  once  sown,  though  ever 
so  frequently  cropped,  it  revives  with  the 
returning  season,  and  fiourishes  in  a  kind 
of  perennial  verdure.  Jt  covers  our  mea- 
dows, difi^uses  itself  over  the  plains,  springs 
lip  in  every  glade  of  the  forest,  and  spreads 
a  sideboard  in  the  most  sequestered  nook. 

Since  the  nutriment  of  vegetables  them- 
selves lies  hid  under  the  soil,  or  floats  up 
and  down  in  the  air  ;  beneatli,  they  plunge 
their  roots-]-  into  the  ground,  and  disperse 
every  way  their  fibrous  suckers,  to  explore 
the  latent,  and  attract  the  proper  nourish- 
ment ;  above,  they  expand  a  nudtitude  of 
leaves,-}-  which,  like  so  many  open  mouths, 


*  The  fat  of  Kidneys  of  wheat,  Deut.  xxxii.  14.  A 
sentencerich  with  elegance!  such  as  would  have  shone 
in  Pindar,  or  been  admired  in  Longinus.  Yet,  I  be- 
lieve its  i)rincii)al  beauty  consists  in  an  allusion  to  a 
remarkable  Jewish  rite.  In  every  sacrifice,  the  fat 
of  the  kidneys  was,  as  the  most  delicious  part  of  the 
victim,  set  apart  for  God,  and  consumed  on  his  altar. 
Here  even  the  common  people  were  treated  like  the 
Deity.  They  lay  under  no  restraint,  either  from  the 
<livine  prohibition,  or  the  scarcity  of  the  grain  ;  but 
were  copiously  supplied,  and  freely  regaloil  them- 
selves with  the  choicest  and  finest  part  of  this  first 
and  best  of  vegetables. 

1  Job  most  beautifully  alludes  to  these  two  sources 
of  vegetable  fertility  ;  '•  My  root  was  spiead  out  by 
the  waters,  and  the  dew  lay  till  night  upon  my 
branch.."    Job  sxix.  l!i. 


catch  the  rains  as  they  fall,  imbibe  the  dews 
as  they  distil,  and  transmit  them,  through 
their  nice  orifices,  to  the  heart  of  the  plant, 
or  the  lobes  of  the  frint. 

I  have  touched  upon  the  insensible  crea- 
tion, and  pointed  out  the  care  of  a  conde- 
scending Providence,  exercised  over  these 
lowest  formations  of  nature.  The  animal 
world,  Theron,  falls  to  your  share.  It  is 
yours  to  descant  upon  those  higher  orders 
of  existence ;  and  show-  us  the  goodness  of 
God  extending  its  indulgent  regards  to  them 
and  their  interests,  as  tenderly,  as  officious- 
ly, as  a  hen  spreadeth  her  wings  over  her 
infant  brood. 

TJter.  The  subject  is  in  good  hands. 
Let  part  the  second  be  of  the  same  straiii 
with  part  the  first,  and  there  will  be  no  oc- 
casion to  wish  for  a  new  speaker.  As  to 
myself,  I  have  very  little  inclination  to  talk. 
But  I  have  an  ear  open  and  attentive  to 
your  discourse. 

Asp.  You  put  me  in  mind  of  the  philo- 
sopher who  presumed  to  read  a  lecture  on 
the  art  of  war  in  the  presence  of  Hannibal. 
But  his  impertinence  was  volimtary,  mine 
is  constrained.  Since  you  enjoin  me  this 
office,  let  us  pass  from  the  vegetable  to  the 
animal  world.  Here  we  shall  find  no  tribe, 
no  individual  neglected.  The  superior 
classes  want  no  demonstration  of  their  ex- 
cellent accomplishments.  At  the  first 
glimpse,  they  challenge  our  approbation, 
they  command  our  applause.  Even  the 
more  ignoble  forms  of  animated  existence 
are  most  \nsely  circumstanced,  and  most 
liberally  accommodated. 

They  all  generate  in  that  particular  sea- 
son which  is  sure  to  supply  them  with  a 
stock  of  provision,  sufficient  both  for  them- 
selves and  their  increasing  families.  The 
sheep  yean,  when  there  is  a  profusion  of 
nutrimental  herbage  on  the  soil,  to  fill  their 
udders  and  create  milk  for  their  lambs. 
The  birds  lay  their  eggs,  and  hatch  their 
young,  when  myriads  of  new-bom  tender 
insects  swarm  on  every  side  ;  so  that  the 
caterer,  whether  it  be  the  male  or  female 
parent,  needs  only  to  alight  on  the  ground, 
or  make  a  little  exclusion  into  the  air,  and 
they  find  a  feast  ready  dicssed,  and  all  at 
free  cost,  for  the  clamant  mouths  at  home. 
Their  love  to  their  offspring,  while  they 
contimie  in  a  helpless  state,  is  invincibly 
strong  :  whereas,  the  very  moment  they  are 
able  to  sliift  for  themselves  ;  when  the  pa- 
rental affection  would  be  attended  with 
much  solicitude,  and  productive  of  no  ad- 
vantage ;  it  vanishes,  as  though  it  had  never 
been.  The  hen  which  marches  at  the  head 
of  her  little  brood,  would  fly  in  the  eyes  of 
a  mastiff,  or  even  encounter  a  lion  in  their 
defence.  Yet,  within  a  few  weeks,  she 
abandons  her  chickens  to  the  wide  world, 
and  not  so  much  as  knows  them  any  more. 


414 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


If  the  God  of  Israel  inspired  Bezaleel 
and  Aholiab  with  "  wisdom,  and  understand- 
ing, and  knowledge  in  all  manner  of  work- 
manship," Exod.  xxxi.  3,  the  God  of  nature 
has  instructed  the  wild  and  warbling  inha- 
bitants of  the  bough.  The  skill  with  which 
they  erect  their  houses,  and  adjust  their 
apartments,  is  inimitable.  The  caution 
with  which  they  secrete  their  abodes  from 
the  searching  eye,  or  intruding  foot,  is  ad- 
mirable. No  general,  though  fruitful  in 
expedients,  could  plan  a  more  artful  con- 
cealment. No  aithitect,  with  his  rule  and 
line,  could  build  so  commodious  a  lodg- 
ment. 

Give  the  most  celebrated  artificer  the 
same  materials  which  these  weak  and  inex- 
perienced creatures  use ;  let  a  Jones,  or  a 
De  Moivre,  have  only  some  rude  straws  or 
ugly  sticks  ;  a  few  bits  of  dirt,  or  scraps  of 
hair  ;  a  sorry  lock  of  wool,  or  a  coarse  sprig 
of  moss  ;  and  what  works,  fair  with  deli- 
cacy, or  fit  for  service,  could  they  produce  ? 

We  extol  the  commander  who  knows 
how  to  take  advantage  of  the  ground  ;  who 
can  make  the  sun  and  wind  fight  for  him, 
as  well  as  his  troops  ;  and,  by  every  circum- 
stance, embarrasses  the  forces  of  the  enemy, 
but  exjjedites  the  action  and  advances  the 
success  of  his  ow.i\.  Does  not  this  praise 
belong  to  our  feathery  leaders,  who  pitch 
their  tent,  or  (if  you  please)  fix  their  pen- 
sile camp,  on  the  dangerous  branches  that 
wave  aloft  in  the  air,  or  dance  over  the  eddies 
of  the  stream  ?  By  which  judicious  disposi- 
tion, the  vernal  gales  rock  their  cradle,  and 
the  murmuring  waters  lull  their  young ; 
while  both  concur  to  terrify  the  shejiherd, 
and  keep  the  schoolboy  at  a  trembling  dis- 
tance. Some  hide  their  little  household 
from  view,  amidst  the  shelter  of  entangled 
furze  :  others  remove  it  from  reach,  in  the 
centre  of  a  thorny  thicket :  And,  by  one 
stratagem  or  another,  they  are  generally  as 
secure  and  unmolested  in  their  feeble  liabi- 
tations,  as  the  foxes,  which  iiitrench^them- 
selves  deep  in  the  earth,  or  as  the  conies, 
which  retire  to  the  rock  for  their  citadel. 
Prov.  xxx.  26. 

If  the  swan  has  large  sweeping  wings, 
and  a  copious  stock  of  feathers,  to  spread 
over  her  callow  brood  ;  the  wren  makes  up, 
by  contrivance,  what  is  deficient  in  her  bulk. 
Small  as  she  is,  she  intends*  to  bring  forth. 


•  Aspasio  has  ventured  to  saj;,  she  intends  ;  and 
one  is  alnnost  tempted  to  think,  from  the  preparation 
which  the  little  creature  makes,  that  she  has  really 
sat  down,  and  counted  the  cost,  and  concerted  her 
scheme.  As  though  she  had  delineated  with  herself: 
"  I  shall  lay,  not  a  couple  of  egps,  but  near  a  score. 
From  these  I  am  to  produce  a  house  full  of  young. 
but  how  shall  I  have  warmth  (unless  art  supply  what 
nature  has  denied)  sufficient  to  hatch  the  embryos,  or 
cherish  the  infants  ?"  The  truth,  I  believe  is,  that  in 
all  her  seeming  foresight  and  circumspect  behaviour, 
sheacts  she  knows  not  what ;  only  she  acts  what  eter- 
nal wisdom  knows  to  be  necessary,  and  what  all-con- 
descending goodness  prompts  her  to  perform. 


and  will  be  obliged  to  nurse  up,  a  vety  nu- 
merous issue.  Therefore,  Avith  the  cor- 
rectest  judgment  she  designs,  and  with  in- 
defatigable assiduity  finishes,  a  nest  proper 
for  her  purpose.  It  is  a  neat  rotund, 
lengthened  into  an  oval,  bottomed  and  vault- 
ed with  a  regular  concave.  To  preserve  it 
from  rain,  it  has  several  coatings  of  moss  ; 
to  defend  it  from  cold,  it  has  but  one 
window,  and  only  a  single  door  ;  to  render 
it  both  elegant  and  comfortable,  it  has  car- 
pets and  hangings  of  the  softest  finest  down. 
By  the  help  of  this  curious  mansion,  oiu" 
little  lady  becomes  the  mother  of  multitudes. 
The  vivyfying  heat  of  her  body  is,  during 
the  time  of  incubation,  exceedingly  aug- 
mented. Her  house  is  like  an  oven,  and 
greatly  assists  in  hatching  her  young.  Which 
no  sooner  burst  the  shell,  than  they  find 
themselves  screened  from  the  annoyance  of 
the  weather,  and  most  agreeably  reposed, 
amidst  the  ornaments  of  a  palace,  and  the 
warmth  of  a  bagnio. 

Perhaps  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
look  upon  the  insects  as  so  many  rude  scraps 
of  creation,  and  to  rank  them  amongst  the 
refuse  of  things ;  whereas,  if  we  examine 
them  without  prejudice,  and  with  a  little 
attention,  they  will  appear  some  of  the  most 
polished  pieces  of  divine  workmanship. 
Many  of  them  are  decked  with  a  profusion 
of  finery.  Their  eyes  are  an  assemblage* 
of  microscopes,  whose  mechanism  is  incon- 
ceivably nice,  and  finished  in  the  highest 
perfection.  Their  dress  has  all  the  variety 
and  lustre  of  colours ;  it  is  set  with  an  ar- 
rangement of  the  most  briUiant  gems, 
and  bordered  with  fringes  richer  far  than 
the  most  costly  silks.  Their  wings  are 
the  finest  expansions  imaginable  ;  cambric 
is  mere  canvass,  and  lawn  is  coarse  as  sack- 
cloth, compared  with  those  inimitable  webs. 
The  cases  which  enclose  their  wings,  glitter 
with  the  most  glossy  varnish  ;  are  scooped 
with  ornamental  fiutings  ;  are  studded  with 
radiant  spots  ;  or  pinked  with  elegant  holes. 
Not  any  among  them  but  are  equipped  with 
weapons,  or  endued  with  dexterity,  which 
qualify  them  to  seize  their  prey,  or  escape 
their  foe  ;  to  dispatch  the  business  of  their 
respective  station,  and  enjoy  the  pleasiu'cs 
of  their  particular  condition. 


*  The  common  fly,  for  instance,  who  is  surroimded 
with  a  multitude  of  dangers,  and  has  neither  strength 
to  resist  her  enemies,  nor  a  place  of  retreat  to  secure 
herself;  for  which  reason  she  had  need  to  be  very  ..- 
gilant  and  always  upon  her  guard.  Yet  her  head  is 
so  fixed,  that  it  is  incapable  of  turning,  in  order  to 
observe  what  passes,  either  behind  or  around  her. 
Providence  therefore,  surprisingly  wise  in  its  con- 
trivances, and  equally  bountiful  in  its  gifts,  has  fur- 
nished her,  not  barely  with  a  retinue,  but  with  more 
than  a  legion  of  eyes.  Insomuch,  that  a  single  fly  is 
sui)posed  to  be  mistress  of  no  less  than  eight  thou- 
sand ;  everyone  of  which  is  lined  with  a  distinct  optic 
nerve.  By  means  of  this  costly  and  amazing  appara- 
tus, the  little  creature  sees  on  every  side,  witli  the  ut- 
most ease,  and  with  instantaneous  speed  ;  even  with- 
out any  motion  of  the  eye,  or  any  flexion  of  the  neck. 


'  DIALOGUE  XV. 


415 


Now  I  am  in  a  talking  Inimoiir,  give  mc 
leave  to  celebrate  the  endowments,  and  as- 
sert the  hononis  of  my  puny  clients  ;  yet 
not  so  much  to  support  their  credit,  as  to 
magnify  their  all-gi-acious  Creator.  What 
if  the  elephant  is  distinguished  by  a  huge 
proboscis  ?  His  meanest  relations  of  the 
reptile  line  are  furnished  with  curious  an- 
tennse ;  remarkable,  if  not  for  their  enor- 
mous magnitude,  yet  for  their  ready  flexibi- 
lity, and  acute  sensation ;  by  which  they 
explore  their  way  even  in  the  darkest  road  ; 
they  discover  and  avoid  whatever  might  de- 
file their  neat  apparel,  or  endanger  their 
tender  lives. 

Every  one  admires  that  majestic  crea- 
ture the  horse  ;  his  graceful  head,  and  am  ■ 
pie  chest ;  his  arching  neck,  and  flowing- 
mane  ;  his  cleanly-turned  limbs,  and  finely 
adjusted  motions.  With  extraordinary  agi- 
lity he  flings  himself  over  the  ditch  ;  and 
with  a  rapid  career  pours  himself  through 
the  plain.  With  unwearied  application,  he 
carries  his  rider  from  one  end  of  the  coun- 
try to  another  ;  and,  with  undaunted  bra- 
very, rushes  into  the  fiercest  rage,  and 
amidst  the  thickest  havoc  of  the  battle. 
Yet  the  grasshopper  springs  with  a  bound 
altogether  as  brisk,  if  not  more  impetuous. 
The  ant,  in  proportion  to  its  size,  is  equally 
nimble,  equally  strong ;  and  will  climb  pre- 
cipices which  the  most  courageous  courser 
dares  not  attempt  to  scale.  If  the  snail  is 
slower  in  her  motions,  she  is  under  no  ne- 
cessity of  treading  back  the  ground  which 
he  has  passed — because  her  house  is  a  part 
of  her  travelling  equipage  ;  and  whenever 
she  departs,  she  is  still  under  her  own  roof; 
wherever  she  removes,  is  always  at  home. 

The  eagle,  it  is  true,  is  privileged  with 
pinions  that  outstrip  the  wind  ;  elevated  on 
Avhich,  she  looks  down  on  all  that  soars, 
and  sees  flying  elouds,  and  straining  wings 
far  below  ;  her  optic  nerve  so  strong,  that 
it  meets  and  sustains  the  dazzling  beams  of 
noon  ;  her  wide-surveying  glance  so  keen, 
that,  from  those  towering  heights,  it  dis- 
cerns the  smallest  fish  which  skulks  at  the 
bottom  of  the  river.  Yet  neither  is  that 
poor  outcast,  the  grovelling  and  gloomy 
mole,  disregarded  by  divine  Providence. 
Because  she  is  to  dig  a  cell  in  the  earth, 
and  dwell,  as  it  were,  in  a  perpetual  dun- 
geon, her  paws  serve  her  for  a  pickaxe  and 
spade.  Her  eye,  or  rather  her  visual  speck, 
is  sunk  deep  into  a  socket,  that  it  may  suf- 
fer no  injury  from  her  rugged  situation  : 
it  requires  but  a  very  scanty  communica- 
tion of  light,  that  she  may  have  no  reason 
to  compli>in  of  her  darkling  jibode.  I  call- 
ed her  subterranean  habitation  a  dungeon  ; 
and  some  ])eople,  perhaps,  may  think  it  a 
grave,  but  I  revoke  the  expression.  It 
yields  her  all  tlie  sal'ety  of  a  fortified  castle, 
and  all  the  delight  of  a  decorated  grotto. 


Even  the  spider,  though  nbliorred  by 
mankind,  is  evidently  the  care  of  all-sus- 
taining heaven.  She  is  to  live  upon  plun- 
der ;  to  support  herself  by  trepanning  the 
idle,  insignificant,  sauntering  fly.  Suitable 
to  such  an  occupation,  she  possesses  a  bag 
of  glutinous  moisture.  From  this  she  spins 
a  clammy  thread,  and  weaves  it  into  a  tena- 
cious net.  Expert  as  any  practised  sports- 
man, she  always  spreads  it  in  the  most  op- 
portune places.  Sensible  that  her  appear- 
ance would  create  horror,  and  deter  the 
prey  from  approaching  the  snare,  when 
watching  for  sport  she  retires  from  sight ; 
but  constantly  keeps  within  distance,  so  as 
to  receive  the  very  first  intelligence  of 
what  passes  in  the  toils,  and  be  ready  to 
launch,  without  a  moment's  delay,  upon 
the  struggling  captive.  And  what  is  very 
observable,  when  winter  chills  the  world, 
and  no  more  insects  ramble  amidst  the  air, 
foreseeing  that  her  labour  would  be  vain, 
she  discontinues  her  work,  and  abandons 
her  stand. 

I  must  by  no  means  forget  the  little  mo- 
narchy which  inhabits  the  hive.  The  bees 
are  to  subsist,  not  as  a  lawless  banditti, 
but  as  a  regular  community.  It  is  theirs 
to  earn  a  decent  livelihood  by  honest  in- 
dustry ;  not  to  glut  themselves  with  car- 
nage, or  enrich  themselves  by  rapine.  For 
which  reason  they  are  actuated  by  an  in- 
variable inclination  to  society.  They  pos- 
sess the  truest  notions  of  domestic  econo- 
my, and  have  enacted  the  wisest  laws  for 
political  government.  Their  indulgent 
Creator  has  made  them  a  present  of  all  ne- 
cessary implements,  both  for  constructing 
their  combs,  and  for  composing  their  honey. 
They  have  each  a  portable  vessel,  with 
which  they  bring  home  their  collected 
sweets ;  and  they  have  all  the  most  com- 
modious storehouses,  in  which  they  deposit 
their  delicious  wares.  Though  made  for 
peace,  they  know  how  to  use  the  sword. 
They  can  take  up  arms  with  the  utmost 
resolution  and  intrepidity,  when  arms  are 
requisite  to  gUcird  their  wealth  or  repel 
their  foes.  "W^ithout  going  through  a  course 
of  botany,  they  can  readily  distinguish  every 
plant  which  is  most  likely  to  yield  the  ma- 
terials proper  for  their  business,  ^^'ithout 
serving  an  apprenticeship  in  the  laboratory, 
they  are  complete  practitioners  in  the  art 
of  separation  and  refinement.  They  are 
awai'e,  without  borrowing  their  information 
from  an  almanack,  that  the  vernal  gleams, 
and  summer  snns,  continue  but  for  a  sea- 
son. Mindful  of  this  admonition,  they 
improve  to  the  utmost  every  shining  hour; 
and  lay  up  a  stock  of  balmy  treasures,  suf- 
ficient to  supi)]y  the  whole  state,  till  the 
blossoms  open  afresh,  and  their  flowery 
harvest  returns. 

Let  the  peacock  boast,  if  he  pleases,  his 


416 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


elegant  top-knot  and  lofty  mien  ;  his  neck 
adonied  with  varying  dyes  ;  and  his  train  be- 
spangled with  a  round  of  stars.  Yet  let  him 
know,  that  the  despised  butterfly,  and  even 
the  loathed  caterpillar,  display  an  attire  no 
less  sumptuous  ;  and  wear  ornaments  alto- 
gether as  genteel,  if  not  quite  so  magnifi- 
cent. Does  beauty  sit  in  state  on  that  lord- 
ly bird  ?  She  shines  in  miniature  on  the 
vulgar  insect.  Is  the  master  of  this  lower 
creation  ennobled  with  the  powers  of  reason? 
The  meanest  classes  of  sensitive  existence 
are  endued  with  the  faculty  of  instinct ; 
which  gives  them  a  sagacity  that  is  neither 
derived  from  observation,  nor  waits  for  the 
finishings  of  experience  ;  which,  without  a 
tutor,  teaches  them  all  necessary  skill,  and 
enables  them,  without  a  pattern,  to  perform 
every  needful  operation  ;  and,  what  is  far 
more  surprising,  never  misleads  them,  either 
into  erroneous  principles,  or  pernicious 
practices,  never  fails  them,  in  the  nicest  and 
most  arduous  of  their  undertakings 


are  accommodated,  even  in  that  dense  me- 
dium, with  the  power  of  breathing,  and  the 
benefits  of  respiration.  A  piece  of  mechan- 
ism this,  indulged  to  the  meanest  of  the  fry; 
yet  surpassing,  infinitely  surpassing,  in  the 
fineness  of  its  structure,  and  the  felicity  of 
its  operation,  whatever  is  curious  in  the 
works  of  art,  or  commodious  in  the  palaces 
of  princes. 

Ther.  Some  persons,  Aspasio,  have  the 
art  of  giving  dignity  to  trivial,  and  spirit  to 
jejune  topics.  I  cannot  but  listen  with  a 
pleased  attention  to  your  discourse,  though 
it  descends  to  the  lowest  scenes,  and  mean- 
est productions  of  nature — To  make  such 
philosophical  remarks  was  usually  my  pro- 
vince ;  to  add  to  the  religious  improvement 
yours.  But  my  thoughts  at  present  are 
wholy  taken  up  with  the  consideration  of 
my  Saviom-'s  righteousness.  1  can  hardly 
turn  my  views,  or  divert  my  speech  to  any 
other  subject.  All  those  amiable  appear- 
ances of  the  external  creation,  which  I  was 


Can  you  have  patience  to  follow  me  if  I  wont  to  contemplate  with  rapture,  afford 


step  into  a  different  element,  and  just  visit 
the  watery  world  ?  Not  one  among  the  in- 
numerable myriads  which  swim  the  bound- 
less ocean,  but  is  watched  over  by  that  ex- 
alted eye,  whose  smiles  irradiate  the  hea- 
ven of  heavens.  Not  one  but  is  supported 
by  that  almighty  hand,  which  crowns  angels 
and  archangels  with  glory.  The  condescend- 
ing God  has  not  only  created  but  beautified 
them.  He  has  given  the  most  exact  pro- 
portion to  their  shape,  the  gayest  colours  to 
their  skin,  and  a  polished  smoothness  to 
their  scales.  The  eyes  of  some  are  sur- 
rounded with  a  scarlet  circle  ;  the  back  of 
others  is  diversified  with  crimson  stains. 
View  them,  when  they  glance  along  the 
stream,  or  while  they  are  fresh  from  their 
native  biine;  and  the  burnished  silver  is  not 
more  bright,  the  radiant  rainbow  is  scarce 
more  glowing,  than  their  vivid,  glistering, 
glossy  hues. 

Yet  notwithstanding  the  finery  of  their 
apparel,  we  are  under  painful  apprehensions 
for  their  welfare.  How  can  the  poor  crea- 
tures live  amidst  the  suffocating  waters  ? 
As  they  have  neither  hands  nor  feet,  how 
can  they  help  themselves,  or  how  escape 
their  enemies?  We  are  soon  freed  from 
our  fears  by  observing,  that  they  all  pos- 
sess the  beneficial,  as  well  as  ornament- 
al furniture  of  fins.  These  when  expand- 
ed, like  masts  above,  and  ballast  below, 
poise  their  floating  bodies,  and  keep  them 
steadily  upright.  We  cannot  forbear  congrat- 
ulating them  on  the  flexible  play  and  vigor- 
ous activity  of  their  tails,  with  which  they 
shoot  themselves  through  the  paths  of  the 
sea,  more  swiftly  than  sails  and  oars  can 
waft  the  royal  yacht.  But  we  are  lost  in 
wonder  at  the  exquisite  contrivance  and  de- 
licate formation  of  their  gills;  by  which  they 


but  a  languid  entertainment  to  my  mind. 
Till  my  interest  in  this  divine  Redeemer  is 
ascertained,  the  spring  may  bloom,  the  sum- 
mer shine,  and  autumn  swell  with  fniits, 
but  it  will  be  winter,  cheerless,  gloomy,  de- 
solate winter  in  my  soul. 

Asp.  You  say,  Theron,  you  attended  to 
my  cursory  hints.  Then  your  own  supe- 
rior discernment  could  not  but  perceive,  how 
every  part  of  the  exterior  world  is  adjusted 
in  the  most  excellent  and  gracious  manner. 
Not  the  coarsest  piece  of  inactive  matter, 
but  bears  the  impress  of  its  maker's  fashion- 
ing skill.  Not  a  single  creature,  however 
insignificant,  but  exhibits  evident  demoTi- 
strations  of  his  providential  care.  His  hand 
is  liberal,  profusely  liberal,  to  all  that  breathes 
and  all  that  has  a  being. 

Let  me  only  ask — and  to  introduce  this 
question  with  the  greater  propriety,  to  give 
it  a  more  forcible  energy  on  our  minds  was 
the  principal  design  of  the  preceding  re- 
marks— let  me  ask,  "  Does  God  take  care 
for  oxen  ?"  1  Cor.  ix.  9.  Is  he  a  generous 
benefactor  to  the  meanest  animals,  to  the 
lowest  reptiles  ?  Are  his  munificent  regards 
extended  farther  still,  and  vouchsafed  even 
to  the  most  worthless  vegetables?  And 
shall  they  be  withheld  from  you,  my  dear 
friend,  and  from  me  ?  Not  one  among  all 
the  numberless  productions,  which  tread  the 
ground,  or  stand  rooted  to  the  soil,  wants 
any  convenience  that  is  proper  for  its  res- 
pective state.  And  will  his  heaveidy  Fa- 
ther deny  Theron  what  is  so  necessary  to 
his  present  comfort,  and  his  final  happi- 
ness  ?  Impossible  !* 

*  I  know  not  how  to  forbear  transcribing  a  para- 
graph from  one  of  our  periodical  papers;  which  con- 
tains a  proposal  for  adapting  natural  philosophy  to 
the  capacity  of  children;  wishing,  at  the  same  time, 
that  the  ingenious  author  would  enlarge  his  sketch 


DIALOGUE  X\\ 


4.17 


Tlier.  I  wish  for,  but  I  con  hardly  hope 
to  partake  of  that  sphitiial  blessing  ;  which 
always  included  my  whole  happiness,  and 
now  engrosses  my  whole  concern. 

Asp.  "  Not  hope  to  partake  of!" — What 
foundation,  what  shadow  of  pretence,  has 
this  desponding  temper,  either  in  reason  or 
in  Scripture?  Is  it  not  evident  from  the 
whole  book  of  revelation  ;  is  it  not  apparent 
through  the  whole  compass  of  natm-e,  that 
the  almighty  Lord,  "  whogoverneth  the  world 
with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  Eccl'us.  xviii.  3, 
is  remote,  infinitely  remote,  from  a  niggard- 
ly disposition  ?  He  not  only  provideth  for 
the  wants,  but  even  "  satisfieth  the  desire 
of  every  living  thing,  Psal.  cxlv.  16. 

Consider  those  stately  poppies,  which  are 
now  the  principal  ornament  of  the  garden. 
They  have  no  tongue  to  request  the  least 
favour.  Yet  the  ever-gracious  Maker 
clothes  them  from  his  own  wardrobe,  and 
decks  them  with  exquisite  beauty.  —  Observe 
the  young  ravens,  wliich  sit  carelessly  croak- 
ing on  yonder  boughs.  Do  they  cry  for 
food  ?  Psal.  cxlvii.  9.  It  is  in  hoarse  inar- 
ticulate accents  :  Yet  the  all-supporting 
God  overlooks  their  ignorance;  hears  mean- 
ing in  their  noise  ;  and  supplies  their  every 
need  from  his  own  spontaneous  bounty. 
If  he  accommodates  the  former,  though  in- 
capable of  asking  ;  if  he  attends  to  the  lat- 
ter, though  insensible  of  their  benefactor ; 
can  he  disregard  our  pressing  wants  ?  will 
he  reject  our  earnest  petitions  ?  especially, 
when  we  seek  such  pure  and  exalted  gifts, 
as  it  is  both  his  delight  and  his  honour  to 
bestow. 

O  !  my  friend,  look  abroad  into  universal 
nature,  and  look  away  every  disquieting 
thought. 

Ther.  Did  you  inquire  what  pretence  I 
have  for  this  desponding  temper  ?  Alas  !  I 
have  more  than  a  pretence,  I  have  a  reason  ; 
a  reason  too  obvious — my  great  unworthi- 
ness ! 

Asp.  Pray,  where  was  the  worthiness  of 
the  stifF-iiccked  Israelites?  Yet  the  Lord 
"  bare  them,  and  carried  them  all  the  days 
of  old,"  Isa.  Ixii.  9.  Where  was  the  worthi- 
ness of  Saul  the  blasphemer  ?  Yet  the 
blessed  .lesus  made  him  a  chosen  vessel, 
and  set  him  as  a  signet  on  his  right  hand. 
You  deserve  nothing  at  the  hand   of  God 


inloa  treatise;  and  execute  the  plan  which  he  has 
sojmlicioiisly  projcctetl,  and  of  whicli  he  has  given 
us  so  delicate  a  specimen. 

After  so!i)e  remaikson  the  sagacity  of  birds,  their 
industry  and  other  siirprisinj,'  properties,  he  .adds, 
"  Is  it  for  birds,  O  Lord,  that  llioii  liast  joined  toRe- 
Iher  so  many  miracles  which  they  have  no  knowledge 
of?  Is  it  for  men  who  give  no  attention  to  them  ?  Is 
it  for  the  curious,  wlio  are  satisfied  with  admirinij 
vvitliout  raisin;;  their  thoughts  to  thee?  Or  is  it  not 
rather  visible,  that  thy  design  has  been  to  call  us  to 
thyself,  by  Huch  a  spectacle?  to  make  us  sensible  of 
tliy  providence  and  infinite  wisdom;  and  to  fill  us 
v/ith  confidence  in  thy  bounty,  who  watchcst  with  so 
much  care  and  tenderness  over  biriU,  tltuugh  two  of 
Ui^iii  arcsoM  but  for  a  farthini;  ?" 


our  Saviour  -.  Neither  did  Joseph's  brethren 
deserve  any  kindness  from  the  viceroy  of 
Egypt.  Yet  he  delivered  them  from  fa- 
mine, who  sold  him  to  slavery  ;  he  settled 
them  in  the  choicest  temtories,  who  cast 
him  into  the  horrible  pit.  He  showed  him- 
self a  friend  and  a  father  to  those  unnatu- 
ral relations  who  were  his  actual  betrayers, 
and  his  intentional  murderers.  And  can 
you  persuade  yourself,  will  you  harbour  a 
suspicion,  that  Christ  is  less  compassionate 
than  Joseph  ?  shidl  a  frail  mortal  out\ie 
Emmanuel  in  beneficence  ? 

Ther.  Is  not  some  righteousness  of  our 
o\v\\  indispensably  required,  in  order  to 
our  participation  of  the  righteousness  of 
Christ  ? 

Asp.  Yes,  such  a  righteousness  as  the 
Samaritan  woman,  John  iv.  18,  and  Zac- 
cheus  the  publican  possessed  ;  or  such  as  the 
Philippian  jailor,  and  the  profligate  Co- 
riiithians  might  boast,  1  Cor.  vi.  9,  10. 
Zaccheus  was  a  man  of  infamous  character, 
and  chief  among  the  extortioners.  The 
jailor  was  a  barbarous  persecutor,  and  in 
purpose  a  self-murderer.  Yet  our  Lord 
says  of  the  former,  "  This  day,"  without  en- 
joining any  course  of  previous  preparation, 
"  is  Scdvation  come  to  thine  house,"  Luke 
xix.  9.  St.  Paul  directs  the  latter,  without 
insisting  upon  any  antecedent  righteousness, 
"  to  believe  upon  the  Lord  Jesus  Chi-ist ;". 
and  assures  the  poor  alarmed  sinner  that  in 
so  doing  he  shoidd  be  saved."  Acts.  xvi.  3L 

So  that  nothing  is  required  in  order  to 
our  participation  of  Christ  and  his  benefits, 
but  a  conviction  of  our  need,  a  sense  of  their 
worth,  and  a  willingness  to  receive  them  in 
the  appointed  way ;  receive  them  as  the 
freest  of  gifts,  or  as  a  matter  of  mere  grace. 
"  Come,  and  take  freely,"  Pev.  xxii.  17,  is 
our  Master's  language ;  without  staying  to 
acquire  any  gracefid  qualities,  is  his  mean- 
ing. 

Tlicr.  Surelj',  to  come  without  holiness, 
without  any  decent  preparative,  must  be  a 
gross  indignity  to  the  divine  Jesus.  Who- 
ever presents  a  petition  to  an  earthly  sover- 
eign, will  think  it  absolutely  necessary  not 
to  appear  in  a  slovenly  dishabile,  much  less 
in  filthy  raiment.  Does  not  our  Lord  him- 
self, in  the  parable  of  the  wedding  garment, 
inculcate  this  very  point,  and  caution  us 
against  a  presumptuous  approach  ? 

Asp.  In  the  ])arable  you  mention,  Christ 
is  both  the  bridegroom,  the  feast,  and  the 
wedding  garment,  Matth.  xxii.  IL  And 
who  are  invited  to  an  union  with  this  Bride- 
groom ?  to  be  guests  at  this  feast  ?  to  l)e 
arrayed  with  this  wedding  garment  ?  The 
messengers  are  sent,  not  to  the  mansion- 
houses  of  the  rich,  or  the  palaces  of  the 
mighty,  but  to  the  highways  and  hedges  ; 
where  misery  mourns,  and  ])overty  i)ine.s, 
and  baseness  liidcs  her  head.     To  wiiom  is 


418 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


their  message  addressed  ?  To  the  poor,  the 
maimed,  the  halt,  the  blind,  Luke  xiv.  21. 
persons  who  have  no  amiable  or  recommend- 
ing endowments,  but  every  loathsome  and 
disgustful  j>roperty.  Yet  these  (mark  the 
passage,  my  dear  friend  ;  mark  well  the  en- 
couraging circumstance)  these  are  not  only 
not  forbidden,  but  entreated,  importuned, 
and  by  all  the  arts  of  persuasion,  by  every 
weighty  or  winning  motive,  compelled  to 
come  in.  And  after  all  this,  surely,  it  can- 
not be  an  act  of  presumption  to  accept,  but 
must  be  a  breach  of  duty  to  refuse  the  invi- 
tation. 

p^  Ther.  You  take  no  notice  of  the  man  who 
was  found  without  a  wedding-garment ; 
which  is  by  far  the  most  alarming  incident, 
and  that  which  gives  me  no  small  uneasi- 
ness. 

Asp.  And  does  my  Theron  take  proper 
notice  of  the  divine  declaration  ?  "  1  have 
prepared  my  dinner,"  says  the  King  eternal, 
"  All  things  are  ready,"  Matth.  xxii.  4. 
"  Whatever  is  necessary  for  the  justification, 
the  holiness,  the  complete  salvation  of  sin- 
ners, is  provided  in  the  merit  and  the  grace 
of  my  Son-  Let  them  come  therefore,  as 
to  a  nuptial  banquet;  and  freely  enjoy  my 
munificence  ;  and  feast  their  souls  with  the 
royal  provision. 

The  man  without  a  wedding-garment, 
denotes  the  specious  superficial  professor  ; 
who  is  "  called  by  Christ's  name,"  but  has 
never  "put  on  Christ  Jesus  by  faith."  Shall  I 
tell  you  more  plainly  whom  this  character  re- 
presents ?  You  yourself,  my  dear  Theron, 
was  some  months  ago,  in  the  state  of  this 
unhappy  creature,  when  you  trusted  in  your- 
self, and  thought  highly  of  your  own,  thought 
meanly  of  your  Saviour's  righteousness. 

I  congratulate  my  friend  on  this  happy 
deliverance  from  so  dangerous  a  condition. 
You  and  I  are  now  like  the  returning  pro- 
digal. Let  us  remember  that  he  came  with 
no  recommendation,  either  of  dress,  of  per- 
son, or  of  character.  None  but  his  naked- 
ness, his  misery,  and  an  acknowledgment  of 
vileness,  which  had  every  aggravating,  not 
one  extenuating  circumstance.  Yet  he  was 
received,  received  with  inexpressible  in- 
dulgence ;  and  clothed  with  that  first,  that 
best,  that  divinest  robe,  Luke  xv.  22,  the 
righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Let  us  accustom  ourselves  to  consider  this 
incomparable  robe,  under  its  evangelical 
character.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  bargain,  nor 
the  subject  of  sale,  but  a  deed  of  gift.  "  The 
gift  of  righteousness,"  says  the  apostle.  And 
gifts,  we  all  know,  are  not  to  be  purchased, 
but  received. 

Tlicr.  Is  nothing  then,  nothing  to  be  done 
on  our  part  ?  no  heavenly-mindedness  to  be 
exercised?  no  victory  over  our  lusts  gain- 
ed ?  no  fruits  of  sanctification  produced  ? 

A:sp.    Tliese   Icgul    ai>iii-clKMisions  !    how 


closely  they  cleave  to  my  Thcron's  mind  ! 
But  I  hope  the  word  of  God,  which  pierccth 
to  the  dividing  asunder  the  soul  and  spirit, 
will  give  the  severing  blow.  And  what  says 
that  sacred  word  ?  It  describes  the  gospel  as 
a  will  or  testament,  Heb.  ix.  16,  i?,*  and 
all  its  glorious  blessings,  as  legacies,  be- 
queathed by  the  dying  Jesus.  When  your 
old  acquaintance  Charicles  left  you  a  hand- 
some legacy,  what  did  you  do  to  establish 
your  title,  and  make  it  your  own  ? 

Ther.  My  title  was  pre-established  by 
my  friend's  donation.  I  bad  nothing  to 
do,  but  to  claim,  to  accept,  and  to  pos- 
sess. 

Asp.  Do  the  very  same  in  the  present 
case.  They  who  believe  are  heirs,  undoubt- 
ed "  heirs  of  the  righteousness  which  is  by 
faith,"  Heb.  xi.  7.  Surely  you  cannot  sup- 
pose that  Christ's  kindness  is  less  sincere,  or 
that  Christ's  donations  are  less  valid,  than 
those  of  an  earthly  testator. 

Titer.  This  illustration  hardly  reaches 
the  point.  I  speak  not  of  doing  any  thing 
by  way  of  merit,  but  by  way  of  qualifica- 
tion. 

Asp.  If  there  be  any  qualification,  I  think 
it  is  our  extreme  indigence.  This  indeed 
it  will  be  proper  to  have  ;  and  this,  I  pre- 
sume, you  are  not  without.  Other  qualifi- 
cation, neither  reason  prescribes  nor  scrip- 
ture requires. 

"Reason  prescribes  no  other." — The 
gifts  of  the  great  eternal  Sovereign  are  in- 
tended, not  to  recognise  our  imaginary 
worth,  but  to  aggrandize  our  views  of  his 
mercy  and  grace.  To  answer  such  a  design, 
the  unworthy  and  the  sinners  are  duly  qua- 
lified ;  nay,  are  the  only  qualified  persons. 

"  Scripture  requires  no  other." — The 
ever-merciful  Saviour  says  not,  They  are 
unqualified  for  my  merits  ;  they  have  no 
valuable  or  noble  acquirements.  But  this 
is  his  tender  complaint :  "  They  will  not 
come  to  me,"  just  as  they  are — with  all 
their  sins  about  them,  with  all  their  guilt 
upon  them — ''  that  they  may  have  life." 
John  v.  40.  Pray — take  notice  of  this 
text,  and  you  will  see  things  placed  in  a  new 
light,  ranged  in  a  new  order.  Sanctifica- 
tion, heavenly  mindedness,  and  a  victory 
over  our  lusts,  are  not  so  much  the  qualities 
which  he  requires,  as  the  blessings  which 
he  will  confer. 


*  This  notion  not  only  runs  through  the  scriptures, 
but  stands  conspicuous  even  in  their  title-page.  What 
are  they  called?  The  Old  and  the  New  Testament. 
What  is  a  Testament  ?  An  authentic  deed,  in  which 
estates  are  transmitted,  and  legacies  bequeathed  In 
other  testaments  some  earthly  possession:  in  this  the 
heavenly  patrimony,  even  all  the  riches  of  grace,  and 
the  everlasting  inheritance  of  glory.  Did  we  consider 
the  scriptures'in  this  light,  it  would  be  a  mosf  engag- 
ing invitation  to  search  thera  with  assiduity  and  plea- 
sure. What  child  is  willini;  to  continue  ignorant  ol  a 
deceased  parent's  last  will  and  testament  ?  Who  does 
not  covet  to  know,  what  honours,  hereditaments,  and 
wealth,  devolve  to  his  enjoyment  by  such  an  inleresi.- 
ing  ami  venerable  conveyance  ? 


DIALOGUE   XV. 


419 


I'her.  "  The  unworthy  and  siinicrs,  the 
only  qiuilifieci  !"  of  this  expression  1  cannot 
but  take  particular  notice.  Then  Judas 
should  stand  in  the  first  rank  of  qualified 
persons  ;  and  the  devout  centurion,  "  whose 
prayers  and  alms  had  come  up  as  a  memo- 
rial before  God,"  was  thereby  unqualified 
for  the  favour  of  heaven. 

Asp.  If  you  observed  my  expression, 
I  spoke  in  the  hypothetical  manner  ;  made 
a  supposition  rather  than  advanced  an  as- 
sertion. If  there  be  any  qualification,  this 
is  the  only  one.  But,  strictly  speaking, 
there  is  no  such  thing.  The  impulsive  or 
inclining  cause  of  all  God's  favour  shown, 
of  all  God's  goodness  exercised,  is — from 
the  creature  ?  No  ;  but  from  himself,  him- 
self alone!  "  He  has  mercy,"  not  because 
this  or  that  person  is  amiable,  is  meet,  or 
qualified,  but  "  because  he  will  have  mer- 
cy." And  as  for  our  need  of  mercy  and 
reconciliation,  arising  from  our  sinfulness, 
this  can  no  more  constitute  a  real  qualifica- 
tion for  the  blessings,  than  an  act  of  rebellion 
can  qualify  for  the  first  honours  of  the  state. 

But  this  we  must  allow,  that  such  need, 
.such  misery,  such  sinfulness,  illustrate  the 
freeness,  and  manifest  the  riches  of  grace. 
And  this  we  should  never  forget,  that  God's 
first  and  leading  purpose,  in  all  his  favour- 
al)le  dispensations  to  fallen  man,  is  to  de- 
monstrate the  sovereignty,  and  advance  the 
glory  of  his  grace.  The  Lord,  promising  a 
very  extraordinary  deliverance  to  Israel, 
says,  "  not  for  your  sakes,  be  it  known  unto 
you,  do  I  this,"  Ezek.  xxxvi.  32,  single  act 
of  kindness.  What  then  is  the  inducement  ? 
We  find  it  in  the  following  declaration  •  "  I, 
even  I,  am  he  that  blotteth  out  your  trans 
gressions  for  my  own  sake,*  and  according 
to  the  good  pleasure  of  my  will."  Isa.  xliii. 
2o.  What  is  the  end  of  all  ?  "  It  is  for  the 
praise  of  the  glory  of  his  grace."  Eph.  i.  6. 
A  proper  motto  this  for  all  the  displays  of 
divine  goodness  to  sinful  men.  It  has  been 
inscribed  by  the  hand  of  truth  and  inspira 
tion.  Time  and  eternity,  instead  of  crazing 
the  lines,  will  only  stamp  them  deeper,  and 
Ojien  them  wider. 

Titer.  This  is  such  a  gift  !  to  be  interest- 
ed in  all  the  merits  of  Christ !  to  have  his 
innnaculate  righteousness  imputed  to  my 
soul  !  so  that  from  henceforth  there  shall  be 
no  fear  of  condemnation,  but  a  comfortable 
enjoyment  of  freest  love,  and  a  delightful 
expectation  of  completest  gl-ory  ! 

Asp.  If  this  rich  donation  surpass  your 
very  thoughts,  and  fill  with  you  grateful  as- 
tonishment, it  is  so  much  the  better  adajjted 
to  display,  what  the  scripture  very  emjiha- 
tically  styles,  the  ''  abundant,"  the  "  snper- 

*  Wliidi  teaches  us  tliat  (kxI,  ami  nolhiiiR  in  the 
creature,  islIieorigiii.il,  eiilire.  sole  cause  of  all  grace, 
and  every  gracious  vouchsafciiant.  It  is  not  only  by 
him,  ami  through  him,  hut  to  him;  for  tlie  honour 
of  his  benign  perfections,  that  wc  are  pattloneil,  ac- 
cepteil,  saveil. 


abimdant,"  the  "  exceeding  abundant"" 
grace  of  our  God.  God  hath  pleasure  in 
the  prosperity  of  his  servants.  He  is  a 
boundless  ocean  of  love  ;  ever  flowing,  yet 
absolutely  inexhaustible.  See  !  what  an 
innumerable  variety  of  benefits  'are  trans- 
mitted from  yonder  sun,  to  gladden  all  the 
regions  of  nature  !  yet  the  sun  is  but  a 
spark  ;  its  highest  splendour  no  more  than 
a  shade ;  its  uninterrupted  and  most  pro- 
fuse commimications  of  light,  a  poor  dimi- 
nutive scantling  ;  compared  with  the  riches 
of  divine  benignity. 

The  servant  in  the  parable,  who  owed 
ten  thousand  talents,  craved  only  some  mer- 
ciful forbearance  ;  whereas  his  generous  lord 
remitted  the  whole  sum,  and  gave  him  an 
acquittance  in  full  :  "  I  forgive  thee  all  that 
debt,"  Matth-  xviii.  32.  You  wonder,  and 
very  deservedly,  at  such  vast  generosity.  But 
what  had  been  your  admiration  to  see  the 
noble  master  admitting  this  obnoxious  slave 
to  a  share  in  his  dignity  ?  what  if  he  had 
made  so  worthless  a  wretch  the  chief  of  his 
family,  and  the  heir  of  his  estate  ?  This  per- 
haps you  would  say,  exceeds  the  bounds  of 
credibility.  Yet  God  Almighty's  stupend- 
ous beneficence  exceeds  all  this.  He  not 
only  spares  guilty  creatures,  but  makes  them 
his  children  ;  makes  them  inheritors  of  his 
kingdom ;  and  as  an  introduction  to  all, 
or  rather  as  the  crown  of  all,  makes  them 
partakers  of  his  Son.  Heb.  iii.  14. 

Ther.  The  gift  is  inestimable  ;  of  more 
value  than  all  worlds.  It  will  render  me 
blessed  and  happy,  now  and  for  ever.  And 
may  so  unworthy  a  creature  look  for  a  bless- 
ing thus  superlatively  excellent  ? 

Asp.  Unworthy?  mydear  friend,  dwell  no 
longer  upon  that  obsolete  topic.  The  great- 
est unworthiness  is  no  objection  in  Christ's 
account,  when  the  soul  is  convinced  of  sin, 
and  the  heart  desirous  of  a  Saviour.  And 
as  for  worthiness,  this  is  as  much  disavowed 
by  the  gospel  as  equivocal  generation-)-  is  ex- 
ploded by  the  discoveries  of  our  improved 
])hilosophy. 

Nay,  farther,  this  notion  is  diametrically 
contrary  to  the  gospel,  and  totally  subver- 
sive of  the  covenant  of  grace. 

Tlicr.    In  what  respect  ? 

Afsp.  Because  it  would  make  our  own  duty 
and  obedience  the  terms  ;  whereas  the  terms 
were  Christ's  suffering,' and  Christ's  obedi- 
ence. These  are  the  hinge  on  which  that 
great  transaction  turns,  and  on  which  the 
hope  of  the  world  hangs. 

♦  T!T£^/3aXX»o-a  ^"■^'i-     2  Cor.  ix.  14.    T-T'.^- 

I'TTt^itrffiuffiv  n  ^!t^i  .  Horn.  v.  20.  Tti^i-tXiov- 
uiTiv  Yi  X''-V'-     I  Tim.  i.  14. 

f  The  ancients  imagined,  that  many  vegetables  and 
insects  were  iirodiiceil  hy,  I  know  not  what,  plastic 
power  ill  the  sun  and  other  elements.  This  is  called 
r.;r(/rr..7//j;eiicration.  Whereas  the  modern  philoso- 
I'liers  maintain,  that  every  individual  of  this  kind 
derives  its  being  froi.n  some  parent-vegetable  or  pa- 
rent animal.     This  is  styled  unii-oail  generation. 


420 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


yXer.  Be  more  particular,  Aspasio. 
Asp.  The  first  covenant  was  made  with 
Adam,  for  himself  and  us.  Breaking  it,  he 
lost  his  original  righteousness,  and  became 
subject  to  death  ;  was  at  once  a  bankrupt 
and  a  rebel.  Now  you  cannot  suppose  that 
the  Almighty  Majesty  would  enter  into  a 
fresh  covenant  with  an  insolvent  and  attaint- 
ed creature.  It  pleased,  therefore,  the  Se- 
cond Person  of  the  adorable  Trinity  to  un- 
dertake our  cause,  to  become  our  Surety, 
and  put  himself  in  our  stead.  With  him 
the  second  covenant  was  made.  He  was 
charged  with  the  performance  of  the  condi- 
tions ;  thereby  to  obtain  pardon  and  righte- 
ousness, grace  and  glory,  for  all  his  people. 
"  I  have  made  a  covenant  witli  my  Chosen 
One,"*  is  the  language  of  the  Most  High. 
And  the  terms  were,  (you  will  permit  me 
to  repeat  the  momentous  truth,)  not  your 
worthiness  or  mine,  but  the  incarnation, 
tlie  obedience,  the  death  of  God's  ever- 
blessed  Son. 

Thcr.  Has  man  then  no  office  assigned, 
no  part  to  act  in  the  covenant  of  grace  ? 

Asp.  He  has  ;  but  it  is  a  part  which  my 
friend  seems  very  loath  to  discharge.  His 
part  is  to  accept  the  blessings  fully  purchas- 
ed by  the  Saviour,  and  freely  presented  to 
the  sinner.  His  part  is  not  to  dishonour  the 
Redeemer's  gracious  interposition,  and  in- 
finitely-sufficient performance,  by  hankering 
after  any  merit  of  his  own.  His  part  (why 
will  you  constrain  me  to  reiterate  in  this 
maimer  !)  is  not  to  bring  money  in  his  hand, 
with  the  ten  brethren ;  but  with  an  empty 
hand,  and  like  an  impoverished  Lazarus,  "  to 
take  hold  of  God's  covenant."  Isa.  Ivi.  4. 

TJier.  If  this  be  the  nature  of  the  new 
covenant,  I  must  confess  I  have  hitherto 
been  ignorant  of  the  gospel. 

Asp.  And  from  hence  arises  your  present 
distress  ;  from  hence  your  averseness  to  re- 
ceive comfort.  You  are  a  philosopher, Theron, 
and  have  been  accustomed  to  examine  nice- 
ly the  propoition  of  objects,  rather  than  to 
weigh  them  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary. 
Here  you  find  all  proportion  swallowed  up 
and  lost.  This  quite  overthrows  all  your 
conclusions,  drawn  from  the  fitness  of  things. 
Here  man  is  nothing,  less  than  nothing, 
while  grace  is  all  in  all.  And  should  we 
not,  however  unworthy  in  ourselves,  magni- 
fy the  grace  of  our  God  ? 


*  Psal.  Ixxxix.  3.  It  is  generally  allowed,  that  this 
Psalm,  in  its  sublimest  sense,  is  referable  to  Christ ; 
and  in  its  full  extent,  lis  referable  only  unto  Christ. 
If  so,  I  think  it  would  be  more  significant  and  empha- 
tical  to  render  the  word  my  Chosen  One.  Thiswillfur- 
iiish  outa  very  clear audcogentargument  to  prove,  that 
the  covenant  of  grace  was  made  with  our  Lord  Jesus. 
Just  such  an  argument  as  the  apostle  uses  to  convince 
the  Galatians  that  the  promises  of  the  covenant  were 
made  to  the  same  divine  Person,  Gal.  iii.  IG.  From 
both  which  promises  this  important  conclusion  fol- 
lows, that  justification  and  every  spiritual  blessing  are 
the  purchase  of  Christ's  obedience ;  are  lodged  in  him 
as  the  great  propitiatory ,  are  communicated  to  sinners 
only  through  the  exercise  of  faith,  or  in  tlte  way  of 
believing.    See  Zecli.  ix.  II. 


T7ier.  Most  certainly. 

Asp.  How  can  this  be  done,  but  by  ex- 
pecting great  and  superlatively  precious 
blessings  from  his  hand?  Alexander,  you 
knovif,  had  a  famous  but  indigent  philoso- 
pher in  his  court.  Our  adept  in  science 
was  once  particularly  straitened  in  his  cir- 
cumstances. To  whom  should  he  apply,  but 
to  his  patron,  the  conqueror  of  the  world  ? 
His  request  was  no  sooner  made  than  grant- 
ed. Alexander  gives  him  a  commision  to 
receive  of  his  treasurer  whatever  he  wanted. 
He  immediately  demands,  in  his  sovereign's 
name,  a  hundred  talents.*  The  treasurer, 
surprised  at  so  lai'ge  a  demand,  refuses  to  com- 
ply, but  waits  upon  the  king,  and  represents 
the  affair  ;  adding  withal  how  unreasonable 
he  thought  the  petition,  and  how  exorbi- 
tant the  sum.  Alexander  hears  him  with 
patience :  but,  as  soon  as  he  had  ended  his 
remonstrance,  replies  :  "  Let  the  money  be 
instantly  paid,  I  am  delighted  with  this  phi- 
losopher's way  of  thinking.  He  has  done 
me  a  singidar  honour ,  and  shewed,  by  the 
largeness  of  his  request,  what  a  high  idea  he 
has  conceived,  both  of  my  superior  wealth, 
and  my  royal  munificence." 

Thus,  my  dear  Theron,  let  us  honour 
what  the  inspired  penman  styles  "  the  mar- 
vellous loving-kindness  of  Jehovah.  From 
the  King,  "  whose  name  is  the  Lord  of 
hosts,"  let  us  expect — not  barely  what  cor- 
responds with  our  low  models  of  generosity, 
much  less  what  we  suppose  proportioned  to 
our  fancied  deserts,  but  what  is  suitable  to 
the  unknown  magnificence  of  his  name,  and 
the  unbounded  benevolence  of  his  heart. 
Then  we  shall  cheerfully  and  assuredly  trust, 
that  Christ  Jesus  will  be  "  made  of  God  to 
us  wisdom  and  righteousness,  and  sanctifica- 
tion  and  redemption ;"  that  he,  who  hath 
given  himself  for  us,  Eph.  v.  2,  will  give 
us  of  his  Spirit,  John  iv.  1 3,  and  will  give 
unto  us  eternal  life.     John  x.  28. 

The?:  Yes,  upon  condition  that  we  fight 
the  good  fight,  and  finish  our  course  of  duty. 
Henceforth,  says  the  apostle,  after  this  is 
done,  "  there  is  laid  up  for  me,  and  for  other 
victorious  soldiers,  for  other  faithfid  labour- 
ers, "  a  cro\vn  of  righteousness." 

Asp.  To  such  persons  the  cro\\Ti  will  as- 
suredly be  vouchsafed.  But  is  it  vouch- 
safed on  account  of  their  successful  warfare, 
or  persevering  obedience  ?  If  so,"  Israel  may 
vaunt  themselves  and  say.  Mine  owti  hand, 
not  the  Redeemer's  interposition,  hath  sav- 
ed me.     Judges  \'ii.  8. 

Not  to  repeat  what  has  already  been  al- 
leged in  opposition  to  this  opinion ;  not  to 
produce  what  might  further  be  urged,  from 
a  variety  of  scriptural  testimonies ;  I  shall 
only  desire  you  to  observe  what  the  apostle 
himself  adds  in  this  very  place  :  "  There  is 


*  About  ten  thousand  pounds. 


DIALOGUE  XV 


1,21 


laid  up  for  me  a  crown  of  rigliteousness  ;" 
but  is  this  the  pay  proportionate  and  due  to 
his  own  services  ?  Is  it  what  he  c];iims  and 
demands,  on  the  foot  of  duty  performed  ? 
The  very  title  of  the  reward  implies  the 
contrary.  It  is  a  crown  of  righteousness, 
because  purchased  by  the  meritorious  and 
consummate  righteousness  of  Christ.  The 
action  of  the  judge  declares  the  contrary  ; 
"  which  the  Lord  the  righteous  Judge  shall 
give  me  at  that  diiy."  It  is,  you  see,  an  act 
of  favour ;  the  issue  of  unmerited  bounty  ; 
what  neither  saint  nor  martyr,  nor  apostle 
enjoys,  but  only  by  way  of  gracious  dona- 
tion.*   2  Tim.  iv.  8. 

I  would  fain  have  my  Tlieron  form  more 
honourable  a])prehensions  concerning  the 
mercy  and  the  bounty  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  He  will  bestow  what  you  suppose 
he  exacts.  He  is  really  a  benefactor  where 
you  would  re])resent  him  as  a  task-master. 
"  The  Lord  will  give  grace  as  well  as  gloiy." 
He  knows  you  have  neither  strength  nor 
merit ;  therefore  he  will  supply  your  want 
of  both  from  his  own  unfathomable  ful- 
ness. 

Ther.  Ah !  my  Aspasio !  you  do  not  know 
my  state.  I  have  not  only  no  merit,  but 
gi'eat  guilt ;  was  by  nature  a  child  of  wrath ; 
have  been  by  practice  a  slave  of  sin ;  and 
what  is  worse,  am  still  cori-upt ;  have  still 
a  carnal  heart — And  has  not  such  a  wretch 
forfeited  all  title  to  the  divine  favour  ?  Nay, 
does  he  not  deserve  the  vengeance  of  eter- 
nal fire  ? 

Aftp.  That  we  all  deserve  this  misery,  is 
beyond  dispute.  I  am  truly  glad  that  we 
are  sensible  of  our  demerit.  Here  our  re- 
covery begins.  Now  we  are  to  believe,  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  has  satisfied  divine  justice  ; 
has  paid  a  glorious  price,  on  purpose  to  ob- 
tain for  such  ill-deserving,  such  hell-deserv- 
ing creatures,  all  pardon,  all  holiness,  and 
everlasting  happiness.  According  to  the 
import  of  that  charming  Scripture,  "  When 
we  were  enemies  (and  what  is  there  in  an 
enemy  to  besi)eak  favour  or  deserve  bene- 
fits ?)  we  were  reconciled  to  God  by  the 
de;ith  of  his  Son."  Rom.  v.  10. 

You  have  great  guilt.  But  is  this  a  rea- 
son why  you  should  be  excluded  from  the 
blessings  of  the  covenant  ?     Contemplate 


*  I  Relieve  no  one  experienced  in  the  spiritual  life 
will  aiispert  that  Theron  speaks  out  of  rharacter.  Con 
si-ie:ice,  when  once  alarmed,  is  a  stubborn  and  uncere- 
monious thing.  It  pays  no  riefeicnce  to  wealth;  it 
never  stands  in  awe  of  pranrteur:  neither  ran  it  be 
soDtiii  d  by  the  refinements  of  education  or  the  attain- 
incn'.s  of  Laniiufj-  -^"'1  we  generally  find  thatamost 
un:'.'  <■  iuntal)le  jiropeiisity  to  self-worthmcss  strongly 
poss-ssi  s  the  newly  awakened  convert,  lie  is  perpetu- 
ally riisinf;  objections  founded  on  the  want  of  per- 
sonal merit;  notwithstandingalloiir  remonstrances  to 
quiet  his  fears,  ami  remove  his  jealousies.  It  is  truly 
a  hard  tiisk  for  a  mind  naturally  leavened  with  legal 
pride,  to  come  naked  and  niiser.ibleto  Christ;  to  come 
divested  of  every  reronunendation  hut  that  of  extreme 
■wretchedness;  and  receive  from  the  hand  of  unmerit- 
ed bciiignity  the  free  riches  of  evangelical  gr.icc. 


the  state  of  that  forlorn  and  wretched  out- 
cast, described  in  Ezckiel,  chap.  xvi.  An 
infant  "in  its  blood;"  this  represents  a  sin- 
ner, who  has  nothing  to  excite  love,  but  all 
that  may  provoke  abhorrence.  Yet  what 
says  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  ?  "  When  I 
saw  thee" — not  washed  and  purified,  and 
made  meet  for  my  acceptance,  but — "  pol- 
luted in  thy  blood;"*  loathsome  with  de- 
filement, and  laden  with  iniquity  ;  then, 
even  then,  "  I  said  unto  thee,  Live  :  I 
spread  my  skirt  over  thee ,  and  thou  be- 
camest  mine."  This  is  the  manner  of  his 
proceeding,  not  barely  to  one  nation,  but  to 
all  his  people ;  not  in  one  period  of  time 
only,  but  through  all  generations. 

You  are  still  corrupt,  one  that  is  sensible 
of  his  corruption,  and  acknowledges  his 
sinfulness  !  Then  you  are  the  very  person 
for  whom  the  Saviour's  righteousness  is  in- 
tended ;  to  whom  it  is  promised. — You  are 
a  governor  of  the  county  hospital,  Theron. 
You  have  been  industrious  \\\  promoting, 
and  are  active  in  supporting  that  excellent 
institution  ;  where  medicine  with  her  heal- 
ing stores,  and  religion  with  her  hea-venly 
hopes,  act  as  joint  handmaids  to  charity. 
What  are  the  circumstances  which  render 
any  persons  the  proper  objects  for  an  ad- 
mission into  your  infirmary? 

Tlier.  Their  poverty,  and  their  distem"- 
per.  Without  poverty,  they  would  not 
need  ;  and,  free  from  distemper,  tliey  woidd 
not  prize,  the  benefit  of  oiu-  modern  Beth- 
esda. 

Asp.  Apply  this  to  the  case  under  con- 
sideration. The  whole  world  is  in  a  state 
of  spiritual  disorder.  Christ  is  styled  by 
the  inspired  \vriter,  "the  Lord  our  healer." 
Exod.  XV.  26.  The  gift  of  his  righteousness, 
the  balm  of  his  blood,  and  the  influences  of 
his  Spirit,  are  the  sovei-eign  restorative. 
And  siu-e  it  cannot  be  a  fanciful  persuasion 
of  our  health,  but  a  feeling  conviction  of 
our  disease,  which  renders  us  proper  objects 
of  his  recovering  grace.  "  He  came,  not 
to  call  the  righteous,"  the  righteous  in  their 
own  eyes,  "but  sinners,"  Alatt.  ix.  l-S, 
Acts  v.  31,  self-condemned  and  ruined  sin- 
ners, to  give  them  "  repentance,"  and  par- 
don, and  newness  of  life. 

Jlier.  But  if  any  foolish  and  refractory 
patients  have  abused  our  beneficence,  it  is 
a  standing  unalterable  rule  of  the  house, 
never  to  admit  them  a  second  time,  how- 
ever pressing  their  exigencies,  or  however 
powerful  their  recommender.  I  have  not 
once  only,  but  through  the  whole  course  of 


*  The  words  are  peculiarly  emphatical  ;  not  only 
doubled,  but  redoubled  ;  to  denote,  at  once,  the 
strangeness  of  the  fact,  yet  the  certaiiuy  of  the  favour. 
"  When  I  passed  by  thee,  and  saw  thee  polluted  in 
tlunoown  blood,  I  said  unto  thee  when  thou  w.ist  in 
thy  blood,  Live ;  yea,  I  said  unto  tlice,  when  thou 
I  wast  in  thy  blood,  live."    Ezek.  xvi.  0. 


422 


THERON  AND  ASPA5I0. 


my  life,  abused  the  marvellous  loving  kind- 
ness of  tlie  Lord. 

Asp.  And  is  not  the  Lord  superior  to  all 
his  creatures,  in  acts  of  pardon  as  well  as 
of  power?  Yes,  as  those  heavens  are  higher 
than  this  prostrate  earth,  so  much  more  en- 


lished  through  the  world,  must  begin  (amaz-' 
ing  mercy  !)  must  begin  at  Jerusalem. 

Thcr.  Thus  much  I  may  venture  to  pro- 
fess in  my  own  behalf; — That  I  long  for 
this  blessing;  I  pray  for  this  blessing  ;  but 
I  cannot  see  my  title  to  this  comjirehensive 


larged  and  extensive  is  the  divine  clemency    and  inestimable  blessing  clear. 


— than  the  widest  sphere  of  human  kind- 
ness, shall  I  say  ?  rather,  than  the  boldest 
flights  of  human  imagination.  Your  sta- 
tutes are  inexorable,  in  case  of  one  notori- 
ous irregularity  committed  :  "  But  the  free 
gift  of  a  Redeemer's  righteousness  is  vouch- 
safed, notwithstanding  "  many  offences,  un- 
to justification."  Rom.  V.  16.  It  is  the 
glory  of  our  almighty  Ruler,  and  redounds 
to  the  honour  of  his  crucified  Son,  to  pass 
over,  Prov.  xix.  1 1 ,  not  a  single  transgres- 
sion only,  but  a  multitude  of  provocations  ; 
to  be  altogether  as  unequalled  in  mercy,  as 
he  is  absolutely  supreme  in  majesty. 

As  it  is  the  grossest  pride  to  entertain 
high  notions  of  our  own  accomplishments, 
or  to  expect  eternal  life  on  the  score  of  our 
own  obedience  ;  so  it  will  be  the  greatest 
affront  to  the  gi'andeur  of  Christ's  merits, 
and  the  freeness  of  his  grace,  if  we  suppose 
oiu:  crimes  too  heinous  to  be  forgiven,  or 
our  persons  too  vile  to  be  accepted. 

Theron  paused. — These  considerations 
seemed  to  operate ;  this  anodyne  to  take 
effect.  Desirous  to  improve  the  favourable 
juncture,  and  impart  the  needed  consola- 
tion, Aspasio  added  -. — 

How  often  did  the  inhabitants  of  Jeru- 
salem disregard  the  warnings,  and  reject 
the  counsels  of  our  blessed  Lord  !  How 
justly  might  he  have  sworn  in  his  wrath, 
"  They  shall  never  hear  the  joyful  sound  of 
my  gospel  more.  The  blessings  which 
they  have  so  wantonly  despised,  and  so 
wickedly  abused,  shall  be  irrevocably  with- 
drawn." Instead  of  passing  such  a  sen- 
tence, this  is  the  charge  which,  after  hisi-e- 
surrection,  he  gives  to  his  apostles  :  "  Let 
repentance  and  remission  of  sins  he  preach- 
ed in  my  name  to  all  nations,  beginning  at 
Jerusalem."  Luke  xxiv.  47.  "At  Jeru- 
salem, Lord  !  Have  not  the  men  of  that  un- 
grateful and  barbarous  city  been  deaf  to  thy 
tenderest  importunities?  Did  they  not  per- 
secute thee  unto  condemnation  and  death  ? 
Are  not  their  weapons  still  reeking,  as  it 
were,  with  thy  blood  ;  and  their  tongues 
still  shooting  out  arrows,  even  bitter  words, 
by  which  they  would  murder  thy  character, 
as  they  have  already  crucified  thy  person  ?" 
Yet  these  wretches  (and  could  any  be  more 
inhuman  ?  could  any  be  more  unworthy  ?) 
are  not  only  not  abhorred,  but  unto  them  is 
the  message  of  grace  and  the  word  of  sal- 
vation sent.  Nay,  to  show  the  unparalleled 
freeness  of  our  Redeemer's  grace,  these  are 
first  upon  the  heavenly  list.  The  glad  tid- 
ings of  pardon  and  life,  which  are  to  be  pub- 


Asp.  I  behold  it  perfectly  clear.  Some 
days  ago,  a  worthy  clergyman,  who  lately 
came  to  settle  in  the  neighboiuhood,  did 
himself  the  honour  of  making  one  at  your 
table.  After  dinner  you  showed  him  your 
library  ;  we  took  a  walk  in  your  garden,  and 
made  the  agreeable  tour  of  the  fish-ponds. 
Then,  with  that  amiable  frankness  of  mien 
and  accent,  which  is  so  peculiar  to  my 
friend,  and  exceedingly  endears  all  his  fa- 
vours, you  told  him,  "  that  he  was  as  wel- 
come to  any  book  in  your  study,  as  if  the 
whole  collection  was  his  own ;  that  if,  on  a 
visit  from  some  acquaintance  of  superior 
rank,  he  should  wish  to  be  accommodated 
with  a  more  delicate  entertainment  than 
usual,  the  productions  of  your  waters,  and 
of  your  hot-beds,  were  entirely  at  his  ser- 
vice ;  and  that  his  acceptance  of  your  offers, 
without  the  least  shyness  or  reserve,  would 
be  the  most  pleasing  compliment  he  could 
pay  you  on  the  occasion." 

What  says  the  great  Proprietor  of  all 
good  ?  "  If  any  man,"  however  unworthy 
his  person,  or  obnoxious  his  character, 
"  thirst ;" — thirst  for  the  blessings  of  my 
evangelical  kingdom  ; — "  let  him  come  unto 
me,"  the  fountain  of  these  living  waters, 
"  and  drink  his  fill."  John  vii.  37.  You 
yourself  acknowledge  that  you  long  for  the 
sacred  privileges  of  the  gospel.  Your  heart 
is  awakened  into  haliitudl  and  lively  desires 
after  the  salvation  of  Christ.  What  is  this 
but,  in  the  spiritual  sense,  to  thirst  ?  To 
you,  therefore,  the  promise  is  made,  to  you 
the  riches  of  this  benign  dispensation  be- 
long. 

That  clergyman  has  not  the  least  suspi- 
cion of  being  disappointed,  in  case  he  should 
send  for  a  brace  of  carp  from  your  cimal,  or 
a  fine  m.clon  from  your  garden — \A'hy  is  he 
so  confident?  Because  he  has  done  you  any 
signal  service  ?  No  ;  but  because  you  have 
passed  your  word,  and  made  the  generous 
offer.  And  why  should  you  iiarbour  the 
least  doubt  concerning  the  divine  veracity  ? 
Why  should  you  call  in  question  yrur  right 
to  these  heavenly  treasures  ?  since  it  is 
founded  on  a  grant  altogether  as  free,  alto- 
gether as  clear,  as  your  own  indulgi  nt  con- 
cession, and  infinitely  more  firm  than  any 
human  engagement  ?  founded  on  the  fidelity 
of  that  supreme  Being,  "who  remembers 
his  covenant  and  promise  to  a  thousand  ge- 
nerations." 

Tfiei:  It  is  impossible  to  confute,  yet  dif- 
ficult to  believe  what  you  urge. 

Asp.    What  I  urge  is  not  tlic  voice  of  a 


DIALOGUE  XV 


*23 


few  duMoiis  passages,  nicely  culled  from  the 
book  of  God,  or  forcibly  wrested  by  the  in- 
terpretation of  man.  The  whole  tenor  of  in- 
spiration runs,  with  the  greatest  perspicuity, 
and  the  greatest  uniformity,  in  this  delightful 
strain.  Let  me,  out  of  a  multitude,  produce 
another  express  from  the  court  of  heaven. 
"  Ho  !  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to 
the  waters,  even  he  that  hath  no  money. 
Come  ye,  buy  and  eat ;  yea  come,  buy  wine 
and  milk,  without  money  and  without  price." 
Isaiah  Iv.  I.  Wine  and  milk  undoubtedly 
signify  the  pardon  of  our  sins,  and  the  justi- 
fication of  our  persons  ;  the  communications 
of  sanctifying  grace,  and  the  hope  of  eternal 
glory.  These  are  nourishing  and  refreshing 
to  the  soul,  as  milk,  the  richest  of  foods, 
and  as  wine,  the  best  of  cordials,  are  to  the 
body.  These  you  see  are  to  be  obtained, 
"  without  money,  and  without  price,"  with- 
out any  merit  of  our  own — without  any  plea 
deduced  from  ourselves,  by  poor,  undone, 
perishing  bankrupts.  They  are  to  be  en- 
joyed by  every  one — who  unfeignedly  es- 
teems them,  and  humbly  seeks  them.  No 
exception  is  made  ;  no  exclusive  clause 
added.  It  is  not  said,  any  one  that  is 
worthy,  but  "  every  one  that  thirsteth." 
To  leave  no  room  for  any  misgiving  appre- 
hensions, the  kind  invitation  is  repeated  : 
"  Buy  and  eat ;  buy  wine  and  milk."  The 
invaluable  yet  free  tender  is  confirmed  again 
and  again ;  "  He  that  hath  no  money — 
w  ithout  money — without  price,"  And  both 
are  pressed  upon  us  with  a  very  remarka- 
ble, with  the  most  affectionate  vehemence  : 
"  Come  ye  ;  come  ye  ;  yea  come." 
'  Had  our  heavenly  benefactor  permitted 
us  to  draw  up  this  instrument  of  convey- 
ance, and  word  it  according  to  our  own 
wish,  what  language  could  we  have  contriv- 
ed, to  render  either  the  grant  more  free,  or 
our  claim  more  secure  ? 

Ther.  These  are  cheering  truths.  They 
amount  to  little  less  than  a  demonstration. 
And  I  am  ready  to  declare,  in  the  language 
of  Agrippa,  Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to 
commence  a  believer. 

Asp.  And  why,  my  dear  friend,  why  not 
altogether  ?  Can  you  distrust  the  sincerity 
of  the  divine  overtures?  If  the  overtures 
are  real,  your  title  is  unquestionable.  Nay, 
there  is  more  than  an  overture  :  You  have 
an  actual  gift  from  the  Almighty  Majesty. 
"  To  us,"  says  the  prophet,  including  all 
that  wait  for  the  redemption  of  Christ,  and 
the  consolation  of  Israel,  "  a  child  is  born." 
Isaiah  ix-  6.  "  To  us,"  he  repeats  the  pre- 
cious truth,  to  declare  his  exuberant  joy, 
aiid  denote  the  fibsolute  certainty  of  the 
thing,  see  Gen.  xli-  32,  "a  son  is  given  ;" 
even  God's  own  Son,  the  ever-blessed  Je- 
sus, to  be  om-  propitiation,  our  surety,  our 
com])lete  Redeemer. 

Just  cast  a  look  upon  yoiuler  neat  lodge. 


Though  placed  in  the  centre  of  a  spacious 
field,  it  seems  to  be  contiguous  wit'h  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  vista.  'The  eye,  travelling 
over  such  a  length  of  ground,  has  almost 
lost  the  windows,  and  the  decent  ornaments 
of  the  front.  But  I  shall  not  soon  lose  the 
idea  of  that  amiable  munificence,  which,  as 
I  was  rambling  one  pleasant  morning,  and 
accidentally  called  at  the  house,  I  learned 
from  its  present  owner.  He  was,  I  find, 
one  of  your  servants ;  had  spent  several 
years  in  your  family  :  When  he  settled  in 
the  world,  you  bestowed  upon  him  that 
commodious  box,  and  a  pretty  adjacent 
farm;  to  possess, without  molestation  orcon- 
trol,  during  his  life.  Does  he  not  reckon  the 
little  estate,  by  virtue  of  your  donation,  to  be 
his  own  ?  as  much  his  own,  for  the  time  pre- 
scribed, as  if  he  had  paid  an  equivalent  in 
money?  Since  the  Lord  Jehovah  has  given  us 
his  Son,  and  all  his  unutterable  merits;  why 
should  we  not,  with  an  assurance  of  faith, 
receive  the  incomparable  gift  ?  Why  should 
we  not  confide  in  it,  as  firmer  than  the 
firmest  deed  ;  and  far  more  inviolable  than 
any  royal  patent?  Especially  since  it  has 
been  sealed  to  us  in  every  sacramental  or- 
dinance, and  witnessed  by  every  good  mo- 
tion of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  our  hearts. 

Ther.  My  servant  never  affronted  my 
authority.  If  he  had  vilified  my  character, 
or  insulted  try  person,  should  I  then  have 
been  incline'.!  to  make  the  same  advantage- 
ous settlement  ? 

Asp.  Herein  appears  the  infinite  sujieri- 
ority  of  the  divine  bounty.  God  is  rich  in 
mercy,  not  only  to  the  obedient  and  grateful, 
but  to  the  unthankful  and  unworthy.  "  To 
the  Lord  our  God,"  says  the  prophet,  "  be- 
long mercies  and  forgivenesses,"  in  measure 
superabundant,  and  in  continuance  unwear- 
ied :  and  this,  "  notwithstanding  we  have" 
offended  him  by  our  manifold  failures  in 
duty;  nay,  have  "rebelled  against  him,"* 
Dan.  ix.  9,  by  flagrant  violations  of  his  law- 


•  The  original  word  in  the  Hebrew  language,  bears 
a  more  obnoxious  signification.  It  denotes  the  most 
audacious  and  the  most  flagitious  impiety.  It  denotes 
that  rebellion  which  is  as  the  sin  of  witchcraft ;  and 
that  stubbornness,  which  is  as  the  iniquity  of  idola- 
try :  Yet,  all-virulent  and  execrable  as  it  is,  it  does 
not  suppress  the  yearnings  of  divine  pity,  nor  super- 
sede the  exercise  of  divine  forgiveness.  With  a  word 
derived  from  the  same  root,  Saul,  when  exasperated 
abnost  to  madness,  upbraids  Jonathan.  And  we 
know,  persons  so  extremely  incensed  never  speak  in 
the  sottcst  tenns;  never  touch  the  subject  with  a 
feather,  but  make  their  tongue  like  a  sharp  sword. 

Mav  I  venture  to  add,  that  our  translators  seem  to 
mistake  the  proinr  application  of  the  aforementioned 
passage?  They  represent  Saul's  invective,  flying  as 
wide  of  the  mark,  as  it  is  overcharged  with  malice. 
Son  of  the  i)erverse  rebellious  woman  !  This  might 
be  asserted,  without  the  least  impeachment  of  Jona- 
than's personal  loyalty.  Hesides,  is  it  not  excessively 
indecent,  as  well  as  absolutely  unreasonable,  to  re- 
flect upon  the  mother,  for  the  misdemeanours  of  the 
son  ?  Surely,  the  clau.'»e  should  be  rendered  in  nerfect 
consistence  with  the  genius  of  the  original :'  Thou 
son  <if  perverse  rebellion;  or,  more  agreeably  to  the 
lOuglish  idiom.  Thou  perverse  rebellious  wretch  !  1 
Sam.  XX.  20. 


424. 


THE  RON  AND  ASPASIO. 


In  sweet  concert  with  this  ptophetical 
lesson,  sings  the  transported  psahnist : 
"Thou,  Lord,"  in  thy  sacred  humanity,  "hast 
ascended  up  on  high ;"  ascended,  fiom  the 
low  caverns  of  the  tomb,  to  the  highest  throne 
in  the  highest  heavens.  "  Thou  hast  led  cap- 
tivity captive ;"  hast  abolished  death,  that 
universal  tyrant ;  and  subdued  those  powers 
of  darkness  which  had  enslaved  the  whole 
world.  Like  a  glorious  and  triumphant 
conqueror,  thou  hast  also  "received  gifts;" 
not  merely  for  thy  own  fruition,  but  to  con- 
fer on  others,  by  way  of  honorary  and  en- 
riching largess.  What  are  those  gifts,  The- 
ron  ? 

,  jT  Ther.  The  gifts  of  the  gospel,  I  suppose ; 
pardon  of  sin,  the  influences  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  and  those  other  privileges  of  Christ- 
ianity, which  constitute  the  present  happi- 
ness of  mankind,  and  prepare  them  for  fu- 
ture bliss. 

Asp.  You  rightly  judge.  And  for  whom 
were  those  royal,  those  heavenly  donatives 
received  ?  If  you  have  an  inclination  to 
bestow  a  sword  set  with  diamonds,  a  fine- 
ly wrought  piece  of  plate,  or  an  exquisitely 
finished  picture — what  names  present  them- 
selves to  your  thoughts  ?  What  persons  are 
the  objects  of  your  choice?  The  approved 
friend,  or  distinguished  favourite,  I  make 
no  question.  But  for  whom  (let  me  ask 
again,  since  it  is  a  point  of  the  last  import- 
ance) were  those  heavenly  donatives  re- 
ceived ? 

Thcr.  Let  me  recollect :  "  Thou  receiv- 
cdst  gifts,"  not  for  fallen  angels,  but  "for 
men  ;"  and  not  for  thy  friends,  but  for  thy 
"  enemies  ;"  yea,  "  for  the  rebellious  also," 
Psalm  Ixviii.  18.  Merciful  heaven!  What 
a  word  is  this  !  And  does  it  come  from  the 
God  of  truth  ?  Gifts,  divine  gifts  !  gifts  of 
unspeakable  value  and  eternal  duration,  and 
these  to  be  conferred  on  enemies,  on  the  re- 
bellious !  wretches  who  are  destitute  of  all 
gracious  qualifications  ;  who  deserve  not  the 
least  favour,  but  have  reason  to  expect  the 
frowns  of  indignation,  and  the  sword  of 
vengeance  ! 

Asp.  Thus  it  is  written  in  those  sacred 
constitutions,  which  are  far  more  stedfast 
and  unalterable  than  the  laws  of  the  Medes 
and  Persians.  Thus  it  is  spoken,  by  the 
mouth  of  that  Almighty  Being,  with  whom 
there  is  no  variableness,  nor  the  least  sha- 
dow of  turning. — Let  us  not,  my  dear  friend, 
by  unreasonable  unbelief,  frustrate  all  these 
promises,  and  reject  our  own  mercies.  Let 
us  not,  by  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief,  make 
God  a  liar;  and  make  ourselves,  of  all  crea- 
tures, most  miserable. 

But  see  !  The  clouds  which  hung  their 
agreeable  sables  to  damp  the  ardour,  and 
abate  the  glare  of  day,  are  departing.  The 
sun  has  been  colouring  their  fleecy  skirts, 
and   spreading  over   the    floating   screen   a 


variety  of  interchangeable  hues.  Now  he 
begins  to  edge  them  with  gold,  and  shine 
them  into  silver ;  a  sure  indication,  that 
(like  the  glittering  but  transitory  toys  which 
they  represent,)  they  will  soon  be  swept 
from  the  horizon,  and  seen  no  more.  The 
bright  orb,  while  we  are  speaking,  bursts 
the  veil,  and,  from  a  voluminous  pomp  of 
parting  clouds,  pours  a  flood  of  splendour 
over  all  the  face  of  nature.  We  shall  quick- 
ly perceive  this  open  situation  too  hot  to 
consist  with  pleasure,  and  must  be  obliged 
to  seek  for  shelter  in  the  shady  apartments 
of  the  house. 

Will  you  admit  me,  Theron,  into  those 
shady  apartments  ? 

Titer.  Admit  you,  Aspasio  !  I  am  sur- 
prised at  your  question.  I  thought  you  had 
known  me  better;  and  I  am  sorry  it  should 
be  needful  to  assure  you,  that  my  house  is 
as  much  your  own  as  it  is  mine.  The  more 
freely  you  command  it,  the  more  highly  you 
will  oblige  me. 

Asp.  May  I  believe  you,  Theron  ?  Do 
you  speak  from  your  heart?  or  must  I  con- 
clude, that  you  plausibly  profess  what  you 
have  no  intention  to  perform  ?  Would  you 
be  pleased,  if  I  should  obstinately  {)ersist  in 
these  dishonourable  suspicions,  notwith- 
standing all  your  friendly  protestations  ? 

Ther.  My  dear  Aspasio,  I  see  your  de- 
sign. I  see  and  am  ashamed,  ashamed  to 
think  that  I  should  fancy  myself  more  punc- 
tual in  my  professions,  than  God  is  true  to 
his  word.  "  Lord,  I  believe  ;  help  thou  mnie 
unbelief!" 


DIALOGUE  XVL 

Our  friends  had  agreed  upon  a  visit  to 
Philenor.  They  rode  through  a  fine  open 
fruitful  country,  which  was  covered  with 
crops  of  ripened  corn,  and  occupied  by  se- 
veral parties  of  rustics  gathering  in  the  co- 
pious harvest. 

The  rye,  white  and  hoary  as  it  were  with 
age,  waved  its  bearded  billows,  and  gave  a 
dry  husky  rustle  before  the  breeze.  The 
wheat,  laden  with  plenty,  and  beautifully 
brown,  hung  the  heavy  head,  and  invited  by 
its  bending  posture,  the  reaper's  hand. 
Plats  of  barley,  and  acres  of  oats,  stood 
whitening  in  the  sun.  Upiight  and  perfect^ 
ly  even,  as  though  the  gardener's  shears  had 
clipped  them  at  the  top.  they  gratified  the 
spectator's  eye,  and  gladdened  the  farmer's 
heart. — Beans,  partly  clad  in  native  green, 
jKirtly  transformed  and  tawny  with  the 
parching  ray,  were  preparing  the  last  em- 
ploy for  the  crooked  weapon.  Some  of  the 
grain  lay  flat,  in  regular  rows,  on  the  new- 
made  stubble.  Some  were  erected  in  grace- 
ful shocks,  along  the  bristly  ridges.      Some, 


DIALOGUE  XVI. 


425 


conveyed  homewards  on  the  loaded  waggon, 
nodded  over  the  gioaning  axle. 

The  villages  seemed  to  be  empty,  and  all 
their  inhabitants  poured  into  the  plains.  Here 
were  persons  of  each  sex  and  of  every  age. 
—  The  lusty  youths,  stooping  to  their  work, 
jilied  the  sickle;  or  swept,  with  theirscythes, 
the  falling  ranks.  The  sj)rightly  females  fol- 
Icwed,  binding  the  handfuls  into  sheaves,  or 
piling  the  swaths  into  hasty  cocks.  Dis- 
persed up  and  down  were  the  children  of 
the  needy,  gleaning  the  scattered  ears,  and 
picking  their  scanty  harvest.  Nor  were  the 
old  people  absent ;  but  crawling  into  the 
sun,  or  sitting  on  a  shady  eminence,  they 
belield  the  toils,  the  pleasing  toils  they  once 
sustained. 

This  is  the  most  joyful  period  of  the 
countrym.an's  life  ;  the  long  expected  crown 
of  all  his  labours.  For  this  he  broke  the 
stubborn  glebe,  and  manured  the  impo- 
verished soil.  For  this  lie  bore  the  sultry 
beams  of  summ.er,  and  shrunk  not  from  the 
])inching  blasts  of  winter.  For  this  he  toiled 
away  the  year,  in  a  louud  of  ceaseless  but 
willing  activity  ;  knowing  that"  "  the  hus- 
bandman must  labour,  before  he  partakes 
of  the  fruits,"  2  Tim.  ii.  G.  And  will  not 
the  blessed  hope  of  everlasting  life  ;  will  not 
the  bright  expectation  of  consummate  bliss, 
animate  us  with  an  equally  cheerful  resolu. 
tion,  both  to  resist  the  temptations,  and  dis- 
charge the  duties  of  our  present  state  ? 

Short  seemed  the  way,  and  quick  passed 
the  time,  as  they  travelled  through  such 
scenes  of  rural  abundance  and  rural  delight. 
Before  they  were  aware,  the  horses  stopt 
at  Philenor's  seat,  where  they  found,  to 
their  no  small  disappointment,  that  the 
master  was  gone  abroad.  They  alighted 
however,  and  took  a  walk  in  the  gardens. 
The  gardens,  at  proper  intervals,  and  in  well 
chosen  situations,  were  interspersed  with 
pieces  of  statuary.  At  the  turn  of  a  corner, 
you  are — not  shocked  with  a  naked  gladiator, 
or  a  beastly  Priapus,  but  agreeably  surprised 
with  the  image  of  Tully.  He  is  just  risen  from 
his  seat,  and  upon  the  point  of  addressing 
himself  to  some  important  oration.  A  re- 
verential awe  appears  in  his  countenance  ; 
such  as  silently  acknowledges  that  he  is  go- 
ing to  plead  before  the  rulers  of  the  world. 
Sedate,  at  the  same  time,  and  collected  in 
himself,  he  seems  conscious  of  superior  elo- 
quence, and  emboldened  by  the  justice  of 
his  cause.  His  thoughtful  aspect,  and  grace- 
fully-expanded arm,  speak  to  the  eye,  before 
the  tongue  has  uttered  a  syllable. 

You  enter  an  alley,  lined  on  either  side 
with  a  verdant  fan,  and  having  no  variety  of 
objects  to  diversify  the   intermediate  space, 


•  Beza  tliiuks  that  in  settling  the  construction  of 
this  verse,  the  adverb  ^^crcv  should  be  ^oiintctcd  with 
the  parUciplc  xo^nicayTX. 


your  view  is  conducted  to  r.  magnificent 
building  at  the  end.  As  you  walk  along, 
contemplating  the  masterly  performance  in 
architecture,  an  unexpected  opening  diverts 
your  attention,  and  presents  you  with  some 
striking  imitation  of  the  virtuous  or  heroic 
life.  Not  the  Macedonian  madman,  nor 
Sweden's  royal  knight-errant ;  nor  Caesar, 
infamously  renowned  for  his  slaughtered  mil- 
lions— but  the  truly-gallant  Czar  :  a  drawn 
sword  in  his  hand,  and  a  commanding  ma- 
jestic sternness  on  bis  brow.  The  weapon 
is  held  in  the  most  menacing  posture  ;  and 
many  a  spectator  has  been  observed  to  start 
back  with  apprehensions  of  fear.  It  is  that 
gloriously  severe  attitude  in  which  the  grate- 
ful citizens  of  Narva  beheld  him,  and  in 
which  all  posterity  will  admire  him,  when 
he  turned  upon  his  victorious,  but  ungo- 
vernable troops,  and  threatened  to  drench 
the  dagger  in  their  hearts,  if  they  did  not 
immediately  desist  from  rapine*  and  slaugh- 
ter, immediately  allow  quarter  to  their  van-- 
quished  foes. 

Under  a  circular  dome,  supported  by  pil- 
lars of  the  Doric  order,  and  in  a  spot  where 
several  walks  centre,  stands — not  the  Venus 
de  Medicis ;  corrupting,  while  it  captivates 
the  world — but  a  Spartan  mother.  Her  ha- 
bit decerit  and  graceful ;  somewhat  like  the 
Juno  Matrona  of  the  Romans,  as  she  is 
finely  depictured  in  Mr,  Sjience's  Poly  metis. 
Her  air  stately  arid  resolved  ;  expressive 
of  dignity,  yet  mingled  with  softness.  She 
holds  a  shield,  is  in  the  act  of  delivering  it 
to  her  son  ;  a  youth  setting  out  for  the  army, 
and  going  to  hazard  his  life  in  defence  of 
his  country.  She  is  supposed  to  add  that 
spirited  and  magnanimous  exhortation, 
which  is  engraven  on  the  protuberance  of 
the  buckler, — -/j  Tav,  »  ta-i  ra; — "  Bring  it 
back,  my  son,  as  thy  trophy ;  or  be  brought 
back  upon  it  as  thy  bier." 

1  am  particularly  pleased,  said  Theron, 
with  the  contrivance  of  this  last  ornament. 
It  is  regidated  by  one  of  the  most  refined 
rules  of  art.  Not  to  lavish  away  all  the  beau- 
ty at  a  single  view,  but  to  make  a  skilful 
reserve  for  some  future  occasion.  The  dome 
and  the  columns  afford  pleasure,  when  be- 
held at  a  considerable  distance  ;  the  fine 
animated  figure  in  the  midst  displays  its 
graces  on  a  nearer  approach  :  by  which 
means  the  attention  is  kept  awake,  and  the 
entertainment  continues  new. 

But  what  I  principally  admire,  is  the  spi- 
rit or  style  of  the  decorations  in  general. 
They  put  me  in  mind  of  a  very  just  remark, 
which  Mr.  Pope  has  somewhere  made,     it 


•  As  soon  as  the  soldiers  were  masters  of  the  town, 
(Narva),  they  fell  to  plunder,  and  f;ave  themselves  up 
to  the  most  cnorinoiisbarljari tics.  'I'lie  C!zar  ran  frora 
place  to  place,  to  put  a  stop  to  the  dihordcr  and  mas- 
sacre. He  was  even  obliged  to  kill  with  his  own  hand 
several  Mus'ovites  who  did  not  hearken  to  luc  or- 
ders.—Volt  Aiuii"s  Wtt.  Chuilcti  XII. 


426 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


is,  if  I  remember  right,  to  this  effect :  "  A 
man  not  only  shows  his  taste,  but  his  vir- 
tue, in  the  choice  of  his  ornaments.  A  pro- 
per piece  of  history,  represented  in  painting 
on  a  rich  man's  walls,  (or  exhibited  in  ima- 
gery amidst  his  gardens,)  is  very  often  a 
better  lesson  than  any  lie  could  teach  by 
his  conversation.  In  this  sense,  the  stones 
may  be  said  to  speak,  when  men  cannot,  or 
will  not."  All  but  the  comparative  or  sa- 
tirical part  of  the  observation,  I  would  ap- 
ply to  the  prospect  before  us,  and  its  wor- 
thy owner. 

Asp.  Philenor's  gardens,  are,  I  think,  more 
chaste  and  delicate  in  their  ornaments,  than 
a  certain  collegiate  church.  In  the  latter 
place,  we  might  reasonably  expect  the  strict- 
est adherence  to  purity,  if  wc  should  not 
meet  with  the  symbols  of  piety  and  incite- 
ments to  religion.  What  then  would  be  the 
reflections  of  a  judicious  observer,  if,  in  such 
a  solemn  and  venerable  edifice,  he  should 
see  a  huge  brawny  fellow  stuck  up  against 
the  wall,  with  his  posteriors  half  i)are,  his 
whole  body  more  than  half  naked,  and  in  an 
attitude  none  of  the  most  decent  ?*  Ex- 
cuse me,  Theron.  I  confess  myself  asham- 
ed even  to  rehearse  the  description.  How 
then  can  the  spectacle  itself  become  the 
house  of  divine  worship  ? 

Ther.  But  perhaps  this  same  brawny  fel- 
low may  represent  a  Heathen  demigod  ;  one 
of  the  idols  worshipped  by  antiquity ;  the 
tutelary  deity  of  valour. 

Asp.  And  will  this  justify  the  practice? 
Does  not  this  add  profaneness  to  immodes- 
ty ?  Are  we  Christians  to  thank  Hercules 
for  the  valour  of  our  warriors,  and  make  our 
acknowledgment  to  Pallas  for  the  conduct 
of  our  generals  ?  Shall  we,  (christians,  be- 
hold with  admiration,  or  recognise  as  our 
benefactors,  what  the  apostle  has  stigma- 
tized under  the  character  of  "  devils  ?"  1 
Cor.  X.  20. 

If  he  who  overthrew  the  tables  of  the 
money-changers,  had  taken  a  walk  in  these 
famous  cloisters,  I  am  apt  to  suspect  he 
would  have  paid  no  very  agreeable  compli- 
ment to  this  fine  piece  of  statuary.  "  Take 
these  things  hence,"  would  probably  have 
been  his  command ;  and,  "  make  not  the 
precincts  of  your  temple  a  chamber  of  Pa- 
gan imagery,"  his  rebuke.  John  ii.  16.  Nei- 
ther is  it  at  all  unlikely,  that  the  image  it- 
self, notwithstanding  its  inimitable  work- 
manship, might  have  shai-ed  the  fate  of  its 
kinsman  Dagon, 


•  Referring  to  tlie  monument  lately  erected  for 
Major  General  Fleming,  in  Westminster  Abbey  ; 
^"erf',"nder  the  General's  bust,  are  placed  Hercules 
and  PaUas.  Hercules  with  his  club  and  lion's  sltin, 
in  the  manner  related  above ;  Pallas,  with  a  mirror 
and  serpent  at  her  side.  The  reader  may  see  a  pic- 
ture and  an  explanation  of  this  monument  in  the 
Oentleman's  Magazine  for  August  1754. 


When  the  captive  ark 

Maim'd  his  brute  image,  head  and  hands  lopp'd  off 
In  his  own  temple,  on  the  groundsell  edge 
When  he  fell  ilat,  and  sliamed  his  worshippers. 

Milton,  i.  458. 

TTier.  But  how  should  the  artist  re- 
present the  great  achievements  and  fhe 
shining  qualities  of  his  hero,  if  you  will  not 
allow  him  to  make  use  of  these  significant 
emblems  ? 

Asp.  I  question  whether  they  are  so  very 
significant.  The  mirror  seems  to  charac- 
terise a  fop,  lather  than  a  soldier.  It  leads 
us  to  think  of  a  soft  Narcissus,  admiring 
himself;  rather  than  a  sagacious  general, 
planning  the  operations  of  the  campaign. 
Besides,  is  sacred  literature  so  destitute  of 
proper  emblems,  that  we  must  borrow  the 
decorations  of  our  churches  and  the  trophies 
of  our  conquerors  from  the  dreams  of  su- 
perstition, or  the  delusions  of  idolatry  ? 
How  just  and  expressive  are  those  emble- 
matical representations,  exhibited  in  Eze- 
kiel's  vision  ?  where  activity  and  speed  are 
signified  by  hands  in  conjunction  with  wings  ; 
and  the  deep,  the  complicated,  yet  ever  har- 
monious schemes  of  Providence,  by  "  a 
wheel  in  the  middle  of  a  wheel."  With 
what  propriety  and  force  are  the  noblest  en- 
dowments pictured  in  the  revelations  of  St. 
John  and  their  grand  machinery  !  Superior 
wisdom,  and  benevolence  of  heart,  are  de- 
scribed by  the  face  of  a  man  ;  strength  of 
mind,  and  intrepidity  of  spirit,  by  the  visage 
of  a  lion;  calmness  of  temjjer  and  indefa- 
tigable application,  by  the  features  of  an  ox  ; 
a  penetrating  discernment,  and  an  expedi- 
tious habit  of  acting,  by  the  form  of  "  a  fly- 
ing eagle."     Rev.  iv.  7. 

These  hieroglyphics  are  graceful,  are  per 
tinent,  and  such  as  every  spectator  will  un- 
derstand. Whereas  the  devices  of  our  new 
monumental  encomium  are,  I  presume,  to  the 
urdearncd,  hardly  intelligible;  to  the  serious 
little  better  than  prolane  ;  and  to  every  be- 
holder, indelicate,  if  not  immodest.  Phllenor, 
I  imagine,  would  blush  to  admit  them  into 
his  walks  or  avenues.  And  I  am  sorry  to 
find  them  received  into  the  most  ancient,* 
most  renowned,  and  most  frequented  church 
in  the  kingdom. 

Talking  in  this  manner,  they  come  to  a 
curious  grove,  formed  on  that  uncommon 
plan,  proposed  by  Mr.  Addison,  in  one  of 
his  Spectators.  It  consisted  wholly  of  ever- 
greens. Firs  clad  in  verdant  silver,  pointed 
their  resinous  leaves,  and  shot  aloft  their 
towering  cones.  Laurels  arrayed  in  glossy 
green,  spread  their  ample  foliage,  and  threw 
abroad  their  rambling  boughs.      Bay-trees 


*  Some  antiquarians  trace  back  the  origin  of  this 
church  even  to  the  reign  of  Lucius;  which  is  more 
than  the  space  of  1500  years.  Others  suppose, that 
Sebert,  King  of  the  East-Saxons,  about  the  year 
of  our  Lord,  605,  built  the  first  religious  structuroon 
this  spot.  All  agree  that  it  was  re-edified  and  enlarg- 
eil  by  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  that  the  present  state- 
ly and  magnificent  fabric  was  foundedby  Henry  III, 


DIALOGUE  XVI. 


427 


were  expanded  into  a  fan,  that  no  weather 
could  tarnish ;  or  rounded  into  a  cohimn, 
that  knew  not  how  to  moulder.  While  the 
lauristinus  ran  out  into  a  beautiful  irregula- 
rity of  shape  ;  and  compacted  her  reddening 
gems,  in  order  to  unfold  her  whitening  bloom. 
In  one  place  lay  a  dale,  gently  sinking,  and 
coated  with  the  chamomile's  natural  frieze, 
which  never  changes  its  colour,  never  loses 
its  gloss.  Near  it,  and  scooped,  you  would 
imagine,  from  the  same  hollow,  arose  a 
mount,  softly  swelling,  and  shagged  with 
furze,  gay  with  perennial  verdure,  and  ge- 
iienilly  decked  with  golden  blossoms.  Here 
you  are  led  through  a  serpentine  walk  and 
hedges  of  box  ;  and  find  perhaps  a  solitary 
pyramid  or  a  capacious  urn  ;  each  composed 
of  unfading  yew. — There  you  look  through 
a  strait  alley  ;  fenced  on  either  side,  and 
arched  overhead  with  mantling  philyra  ;  and 
see  at  the  extremity,  an  obelisk  sheathed 
in  ivy,  and  ornamented  with  its  sable  clus- 
ters as  with  wreaths  of  living  sculpture. 
Scattered  up  and  down  were  several  sorts 
of  holly ;  some  stripped  with  white,  some  spot- 
ted with  yellow,  some  preparing  to  brighten 
and  beautify  the  scene  with  berries  of  glow- 
ing scarlet. 

The  heads  of  the  trees,  arising  one  above 
anothei-,  in  a  gradual  slope,  from  the  dimi- 
nutive mazerean  to  the  lofty  cypress  ;  the 
several  shadings  of  their  green  attire,  greatly 
diversified,  and  judiciously  intermixed,  af- 
ford, especially  in  the  winter  season,  a  most 
enlivened  and  lovely  prospect.  As  the  sun- 
shine is,  by  the  frequenters  of  this  gi'ove, 
usually  more  coveted  than  the  shade  ;  it  is  so 
disposed  as  to  admit,  in  one  part  or  another, 
every  gleam  of  fine  weather  which  exhilar- 
ates the  winter. 

Asp.  There  must  be  something  unspeakably 
pleasing  in  a  plantation,  which  appears  lively 
and  fruitful  when  all  its  neighbours  of  the 
woodland  race  are  barren,  bleak,  or  dead  ;  but 
how  much  more  cheering  and  delightful  must 
It  be,  when  decrepit  age  or  bodily  infirmities 
have  impaired  the  vigour  and  laid  waste  the 
gratifications  of  our  youthful  prime,  to  find  a 
solid  undecaying  pleasure  in  the  favour  of 
God  and  the  hope  of  glory  I  Now,  indeed, 
the  feathered  tribes  resort  to  the  more  (low- 
ing umbrage  of  the  poplar  and  the  ash  ;  but 
amidst  December's  cold,  you  shall  observe 
them  forsaking  the  leafless  woods,  and  flock- 
ing to  this  friendly  receptacle  ;  hop|)ing 
acioss  the  sunny  walks,  or  sheltering  them- 
selves, in  the  wet  and  stormy  day,  under 
these  trusty  boughs.  So  the  many  thought- 
less creatures,  who  turn  their  back  upon  re- 
ligion amidst  the  soft  and  soothing  caresses 
of  pros])erity,  will  want,  extremely  want,  its 
sovereign  supports  under  the  sharp  and  dis- 
tressing assaults  of  adversity,  sickness,  and 
death.  This  collection,  it  is  true,  may  not 
equal  the  groves  of  annual  verdure  in  tlorid- 


ity  of  dress  ;  but  it  far  exceeds  them  in  the 
duration  of  its  ornaments.  Ere  long,  yon- 
der showy  branches  will  be  stript  of  their 
holiday  clothes  ;  whereas,  these  will  retain 
their  honours,  when  those  are  all  rags,  or 
nakedness.  Thus  will  it  be  with  every  re- 
fuge for  our  poor,  imperfect,  sinful  souls  ; 
excepting  only  the  righteousness  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Every  thing  else  will 
"  fade  as  a  leaf,"  Isa.  Ixiv.  6.  This,  my 
Theron,  and  this  alone  is  an  evergreen  ;  al- 
ways free  for  our  acceptance,  and  always  ef- 
fectual to  save. 

Ther.  An  evergreen  it  is.  Eut,  like  the 
ruddy  and  inviting  fruits  which  hang  on  the 
uppermost  boughs  of  those  lofty  trees  in  the 
orchard,  it  seems  to  be  quite  out  of  my  reach. 

Asp.  Are  you  sensible  that  you  need  the 
immaculate  and  perfect  righteousness  of  our 
Saviour  ? 

Ther.  Was  Jonah  sensible  how  much  he 
needed  the  cooling  shelter  of  his  gourd, 
when  the  sun  smote  fiercely  upon  his  tem- 
ples, and  all  the  fervours  of  the  fiery  east 
were  glowing  around  him  ?  So  is  your  Ther- 
on sensible,  that  without  a  far  better  righte- 
ousness than  his  own,  he  must  inevitably  be 
condemned  by  the  sentence  of  the  law,  and 
cannot  possibly  stand  before  the  high  and 
holy  God. 

Asp.  Remember  then  what  our  Lord  says 
to  such  persons  ;  "  Come  unto  me  all  ye 
that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest,"  Matth.  xi.  28.  Plow  gra- 
cious is  the  invitation  ?  Come  unto  me,  the 
Father  of  compassions,  and  the  Giver  of 
every  good  gift.  How  extensive  as  well  as 
gracious  !  All  that  are  "  weary,"  (Ko  ./^in":,-,) 
toiling  in  a  fruitless  pursuit  of  happiness:, 
and  spending  your  labour  for  that  which 
satisfieth  not.  All  that  are  "  heavy  laden," 
(TL:(pt)Tiir/u.ivo-,}  oppressed  with  the  servitude 
of  sin,  or  bowed  down  under  a  load  of  mi- 
sery. These,  all  these  are  called,  and  you 
my  friend,  in  the  number.  They  have  not 
a  ticket,  a  bond,  or  some  inferior  pledge  to 
ascertain  their  success :  but  they  have  a 
promise  from  faithfulness  and  truth  itself. 
"  I  will  give  you  rest,"  says  the  strength  of 
Israel,  whose  will  is  fate,  and  his  word  the 
basis  of  the  universe.  And  if  Christ  will 
give  you  rest,  he  will  wash  you  in  that  blood 
which  atones,  and  invest  you  with  that 
righteousness  which  justifies  ;  since  nothing 
short  of  these  mercies  can  ail'ord  any  satis- 
faction to  the  guilty  conscience,  or  true  sa^ 
tisfaction  to  the  restless  soul — Permit  me 
to  ask  farther,  Do  you  earnestly  desire  this 
righteousness  ? 

Ther.  Will  yonder  hirelings,  when  fatigued 
with  the  heat  and  burden  of  a  long,  labor- 
ious, sultry  day,  desire  the  shades  of  the 
evening,  and  the  rejiose  of  the  night  ?  I  can 
truly  on  this  occasion,  adopt  the  words  of 
the  prophet :   "  The  desire  of  my  soul  is  to 


428 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO 


thy  name,"  blessed  Jesus,  "  and  to  the  re- 
membrance" of  thy  righteousness.  The 
very  mention  of  this  spotless  righteousness 
is  music  to  my  ears.  Every  fresh,  though 
distant  discovery  of  it,  gleams  pleasure  upon 
my  mind.  And  that  would  be  a  welcome 
day,  a  day  greatly  to  be  distinguished,  which 
should  bring  it  near  to  my  view,  and  home 
to  my  soul. 

Asp.  Say  not  then,  my  dear  friend,  that 
Christ,  and  the  blessings  of  his  purchase, 
are  beyond  your  reach.  They  are  now,  even 
now  at  your  door.  You  need  not  argue 
anxiously  and  despondingly,  "  Who  shall 
ascend  into  heaven,  to  bring  down  Christ 
from  above?  or,  who  shall  descend  into  the 
deep,  to  bring  up  Christ  from  beneath  ?" 
Rom.  X.  6,  7.  There  is  no  such  impossi- 
bility, no  such  difficulty  in  the  thing. 
Christ  and  his  righteousness,  Christ  and  his 
salvation,  are  brought  nigh  in  the  word  of 
promise.  And  "  if  thou  shalt  confess  with 
thy  mouth  the  Lord  Jesus"  as  dying  on  the 
cross  for  thy  redemption  ;  "  if  thou  shalt 
believe  in  thy  heart,  that  God  hath  raised 
him  from  the  dead"  for  thy  justification, 
"  thou  shalt  be  saved,"  Rom.  x.  9.  In  so 
doing,  thou  shalt  receivp  remission  of  sin, 
and  power  to  withstand  its  temptations. 

Have  you  never,  in  your  travels,  been 
overtaken  by  the  dark  and  tempestuous 
night?  When,  chilled  with  the  cold,  and 
almost  drowned  in  the  rain,  you  arrived  at 
the  house  of  some  valued  friend,  was  you 
not  willing  to  gain  admittance  ? 

Ther.  W^illing !  I  was  desirous,  I  was 
almost  impatient?  I  thought  every  moment 
an  hour  till  the  hospitable  door  opened — 
till  I  exchanged  the  dismal  gloom  and  the 
driving  storm,  for  the  cheerful  light  and  the 
amiable  company  within. 

Asp.  The  adored  Emmanuel  professes 
himself  equally  willing  to  come  unto  you. 
"Behold  !"  says  the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
"  I  stand  at  the  door,  and  knock.  If  any 
man  hear  my  voice,  and  open  the  door,  I 
will  come  in  unto  him,  and  will  sup  with 
him,  and  he  with  me."  Rev.  iii.  20.  Like 
one  exposed  to  all  the  inclemencies  of  the 
air,  whose  "  head  is  filled  with  dew,  and  his 
locks  with  the  drops  of  the  night,"  Cant. 
V.  2,  he  is  not  only  willing,  but  desirous  to 
enter.  "  He  stands  at  the  door,"  with 
great  long-suffering  and  perseverance,  till 
all  obstacles  are  removed,  or  rather  till  that 
one  grand  obstacle  is  taken  out  of  the  way, 
unbelief.  "  He  knocks,"  by  the  preaching 
of  his  word,  and  the  promise  of  his  gospel, 
like  one  who  solicits  admission,  and  will 
take  no  denial.  Hear  then  his  soliciting 
voice,  and  "  he  will  sup  with  you  ;"  will 
make  his  abode  with  you,  will  manifest  bis 
glories  in  you,  and  communicate  his  grace  to 
you.  liel'ieve  his  promising  word,  and  "  you 
shall  sup  with  him :"  this  will  be  refreshing  to 


your  distressed  soul,  as  the  most  sumptuous 
banquet  to  the  famished  stomach  and  crav- 
ing appetite. 

77/er.   I  cannot  open  my  heart. 

Asp.  Christ  has  the  key  of  David.  "  He 
openeth,  and  none  can  shut;  he  shutteth, 
and  none  can  open."  Rev.  iii.  7.  He  is 
able  to  make  all  grace,  not  only  to  exist  in 
you,  but  abound  towards  you,  2  Cor.  ix.  8, 
and  what  is  still  more  encouraging,  he  is 
professedly  "  the  author  and  finisher  of  our 
faith."  Heb.  xii.  2.  Since  he  has  claimed 
this  character  to  himself,  since  he  has  un- 
dertaken to  execute  this  office,  why  should 
we  harbour  the  least  distrust?  Will  he 
not  fulfil  his  own  office,  and  act  agreeably 
to  his  own  character  ?  Be  not,  my  dear 
Theron,  be  not  faithless,  but  believing. 

Ther.  This  I  believe — that  I  am  a  lost 
sinner  ;  under  the  curse  of  the  law,  and  li- 
able to  the  wrath  of  God  ;  that  there  is  no 
relief  for  my  distress  but  in  Christ  and  his 
transcendent  merits.  He,  and  he  alone,  is 
able  to  save  me  from  my  guilt,  and  all  its 
dismal  train  of  miseries.  He  is  a  Saviour 
fully  proportioned  to  my  wants  ;  exactly 
suited  to  my  several  necessities.  I  believe, 
and  am  persuaded,  that  if  I  was  interested 
in  the  divine  Jesus,  my  soul  should  live. 

Asjy.  Be  persuaded  likewise,  that  there 
is  no  clogging  qualification,  no  worth  to  be 
possessed,  no  duty  to  be  performed,  in  or- 
der to  your  full  participation  of  Christ  and 
his  riches.  Only  believe,  and  they  are  all 
your  own.  "  Christ  dwelleth  in  our  hearts" 
— how  ?  by  legal  works,  and  laborious  pre- 
requisites ?  No;  but  "by  faith."  Eph.  iii. 
17.  "  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son,  hath" 
— a  chimerical?  farfrom  it — a  real  anda  sub- 
stantial happiness,  even  "everlasting  life." 
John  iii.  3(3. 

Ther.  Ah !  my  Aspasio !  I  cannot  be- 
lieve. I  feel  my  impotency.  My  mind  is, 
as  you  formerly  hinted,  like  the  withered  arm. 

Asp.  It  is  no  small  advantage,  Theron, 
to  be  convinced  of  our  inability  in  this  re- 
spect. This  is,  if  not  the  beginning  of  faith, 
the  sign  of  its  a])i)roach  ;  and  shows  it  to 
be,  if  not  in  the  soul,  yet  at  the  very  door. 
Fear  not,  my  friend.  He  who  bids  you 
stretch  out,  will  strengthen  the  withered 
arm.  He  first  makes  us  sensible  of  our 
weakness,  and  then  "  fulfils  all  the  good 
pleasure  of  his  will,  and  the  work  of  faith 
with  power."  "2  Thess.  i.  11. 

Can  you  doubt  of  his  willingness  ?  Then 
go  to  Mount  Calvary.  There  listen  to  the 
"  sounding  of  his  bowels,  and  of  his  mer- 
cies towards  you."  Isaiah  Ixiii.  15.  Has 
not  every  drop  of  blood  a  tongue  ?  Caiusot 
you  read  a  language  in  each  streaming 
wound,  and  hear  a  voice  in  every  dynig 
pang  ?  Do  they  not  all  speak  his  infinite 
love  even  to  wretched  siimers  ?  Do  they 
not  all  address  you  with  that  tender  romou- 


DIALOGUE  XVI. 


429 


strance,  "  O  thon  of  little  faith,  wherefore 
dost  thou  doubt?"  Matt.  xiv.  31.  Nay, 
do  they  not  all  declare,  with  an  energy  su- 
perior to  the  force  of  words,  that  he  will 
deny  you  no  manner  of  thing  that  is  good  ? 

Who  gave  his  blood,  what  gift  will  ho  witliholil  ? 

Tlicr.  I  am  ashamed  to  recollect,  what 
mistaken  notions  I  once  entertained  con- 
cerning the  easiness  of  believing  ;  as  though 
it  were  to  be  performed,  like  the  act  of  ris- 
mg  from  our  seat,  or  stepping  into  a  coach, 
by  our  own  strength,  and  at  our  own  time. 
What  a  stranger  was  I  then  to  the  blind- 
ness of  my  understanding,  and  the  hardness 
of  my  heart ;  to  my  bondage  under  unbe- 
lief, and  averseness  to  the  way  of  salvation 
"  by  grace  through  faith  !" 

Aap.  Since  you  are  sensible  of  your  im- 
potence, beware  of  the  contrary  extreme- 
Because  you  cannot  by  your  own  strength 
exercise  faith,  let  not  this  occasion  a  tame 
resignation  of  yourself  to  infidelity.  You 
must  endcavoia-,  diligently  endeavour,  to 
believe ;  and  wait,  and  pray,  for  the  divine 
Spirit.  Though  it  is  his  office  to  testify  of 
Christ,  "  and  bring  near  the  Redeemer's 
j'ighteousness,"  Isa.  xlvi-  1  ;  yet  his  influ- 
ences are  not  to  supersede,  but  to  encourage 
our  own  efforts.  "  Work  otit  your  own 
salvation  with  fear  and  trembling ;"  here  is 
our  duty.  "  For  it  is  God  that  worketh  in 
you  both  to  will  and  to  do,  Phil.  ii.  12,  13; 
here  is  our  encouragement :  and  O  what  a 
glorious  encouragement,  to  have  the  arm  of 
Omnipotence  stretched  out  for  our  support 
and  our  succour  ! 

Tlicr.  How,  or  in  what  manner,  does  the 
divine  Spirit  work  faith  in  the  heart  of  a 
sinner?  You  wonder,  perhaps,  that  I  ask 
such  a  question.  But  my  apprehensions  are 
strangely  dull,  and  my  views  very  dim,  with 
regard  to  spiritual  things.  If  in  this  respect 
I  have  any  sight,  it  is  like  his  who  "  saw 
men  as  trees  walking  ;"  saw  these  several 
objects,  but  so  obscurely,  so  confusedly,  that 
he  could  not  distinguish  one  from  the  other, 
only  by  the  circumstance  of  motion. 

Asp.  The  most  enlightened  minds  see 
oidy  in  part ;  and  all  have  reason  to  make 
the  blind  beggar's  supplication  their  own  re- 
quest :  "  Lord,  that  I  may  receive  my  sight!" 
The  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  pro- 
ducing faith,  is  thus  described  by  a  master 
in  Israel :  "  The  divine  Spirit  brings  Christ 
and  his  righteousness  nigh  unto  us  in  the 
promise  of  the  gospel ;  clearing  at  the  same 
time  our  right  and  warrant  to  intermeddle 
with  all,  without  fear  of  vitious  intromission ; 
encouraging  and  enabling  to  a  measure  of 
confident  application,  and  taking  home  all 
to  ourselves,  freely,  without  money,  and 
without  pricci" 

You  was  once,  Theron,  a  zealous  advo- 
cate for  good  works.      Now   you   seem   to 


have  abandoned  your  clients.  Bcmember, 
my  dear  friend,  what  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
says,  John  iv.  29,  "  This  is  the  work  of 
,God,"  of  all  works  most  acceptable  and 
■most  honourable  to  the  divine  Majesty, 
"  that  you  believe  on  him  whom  he  hath 
sent." 

Ther.  The  tnie  belief,  according  to  your 
notion,  Aspasio,  is  so  refined  and  exalted  a 
virtue,  that  I  very  much  question  whether 
I  shall  be  ever  able  to  attain  it. 

Asp.  If  you  are  unable  to  attain  it,  is  the 
Lord  unable  to  give  it?  Our  sulliciency 
for  this  and  every  good  work,  is  not  in  our- 
selves, but  in  God.  And  to  him  difficul- 
ties are  easy  :  Before  him  mountains  are 
a  plain.  You  will  please  to  remember,  tiiat 
sinners  are  said  to  believe,  not  through 
their  own  ability,  but  through  the  power  of 
grace :  and  you  will  permit  me  to  ask,  how 
you  became  acquainted  with  my  notion  of 
faith  ? 

Ther.  I  am  not  so  inattentive  a  reader  of 
your  letters,  as  to  forget  your  definition  of 
this  momentous  article.  Faith,  you  say, 
"  is  a  real  persuasion,  that  the  blessed  Je=us 
has  shed  his  blood  for  me,  and  fulfilled  all 
righteousness  in  my  stead  ;  that  through 
this  great  atonement  and  glorious  obedience 
he  has  purchased,  even  for  my  sinful  soul, 
reconciliation  with  God,  sanctifying  grace, 
and  all  spiritual  blessings.''* 

Asp.  I  am  obliged  to  you,  Theron,  for 
the  honour  you  do  my  letter  ;  and  1  hope 
you  will  pay  an  equal  regard  to  the  deter- 
mination of  our  church.  You  once  appre- 
heiuied  that  my  attachment  to  the  church  of 
England  was  unsettled  and  wavering.  Judge 
now  who  has  most  thoroughly  imbibed  htr 
doctrines,  and  is  most  invariably  tenacious 
of  her  true  interests.  In  the  fir.st  part  of 
the  Homily  concerning  the  Sacrament,  we 
have  this  definition  of  faith  :  "  It  is  a  belief, 
not  only  that  the  death  of  Christ  is  availa- 
ble for  the  remission  of  sins,  and  reconcili- 
ation with  God,  but  also  that  he  made  a  full 
and  sufficient  sacrifice  for  thee,  a  perfect 
cleansing  for  thy  sins."f 

My  notion  of  faith,  you  see,  is  evidently 
the  voice  of  the  establishment ;  and  I  think 


»  See  Letter  X.  Here  is,  it  must  be  acknowledged, ;a 
total  omission  of  all  jircparatory  or  rather  impulsive 
dispositions;  such  as  convictions  of  sin,  and  nunger- 
ing  after  salvation.  Here  is  likewise  a  total  silence 
concerning  all  causes,  instrumental  or  efficient,  such 
as  the  power  of  the  divine  Word,  and  the  agency  of 
the  divine  Spirit.  No  mention  is  made  of  the  fruits 
or  concomitants ;  such  as  love  to  Christ,  love  of  the 
brethren,  or  purity  of  heart.  Notliiiig  is  exhibited 
to  view  but  the  form  and  essence  of  faith,  or  that  par- 
ticular act  whicli  characterises  and  constitutes  real 
faith,  which  distinguishes  it  from  the  hypocritical 
pretension  and  the  historical  notion.  This  simple 
view  is  given,  that  the  mind  may  fix  upon  the  grand 
point,  and  not  be  embarrassed  with  a  multiplicity  of 
ideas. 

t  Answerable  to  this  was  the  doctrine  of  the  prnri- 
tive  church ;     H    ■titti;    I'iw^oi'.irai    tov    &foy. 

ClIliYSOST. 


430 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


it  gives  us  a  clear  intelligible  sense,  suited 
to  the  most  common  acceptation  of  the 
word ;  such  as  would  naturally  arise  in  the 
mind  of  a  stranger,  who,  without  any  bias 
on  his  judgment,  should  inquire  into  the 
purport  of  our  religion,  or  consider  the  lan- 
guage of  our  Bible. 

Ther.  How  suited  to  the  most  common 
acceptation  of  the  word  ? 

Asp.  Wlien  you  sent  a  message  to  your 
tenant,  who,  in  his  last  sickness,  expressed 
so  much  uneasiness  on  account  of  his  nu- 
merous family  and  embarrassed  circumstan- 
ces, assuring  him  that  you  had  cancelled  the 
bond  and  forgive?!  his  debt :  when  you  told 
the  poor  woman,  whose  husband  fell  from 
the  loaded  waggon,  and  broke  both  his  legs, 
that  you  would  order  a  surgeon  to  attend 
liim,  and  would  continue  his  weekly  pay  ; 
how  did  they  regard,  how  receive  your  pro- 
mised kindness? — So  let  us  credit  the  gra- 
cious declarations  of  our  God,  so  accept  his 
faithful  promise,  and  then  we  shall  answer 
the  import  of  the  word — then  we  shall  tru- 
ly believe. 

Tlier.  Where  is  there  in  Scripture  an)- 
thing  ])arallel  or  similar  to  these  instances? 

ylsp.  Have  you  never  read  the  words  of 
Micah,  "  AVho  is  a  God  like  unto  thee,  that 
pardoneth  iniquitj',  and  passeth  by  trans- 
gression ?"  IMicah  vii.  18.  Here  is  the  gra- 
cious declaration. — "  He  will  tuiti  again  ; 
he  will  have  compassion  ui)ou  us,  he  will 
subdue  our  iniquities,"  Micah  vii.  19.  Here 
is  the  faithful  promise. — And  why,  my 
friend,  why  should  we  j)ay  less  credit  to  the 
ever-living  Jehovah,  than  to  a  man,  "  whose 
breath  is  in  his  nostrils  ?"  Is  there  treach- 
eiy  with  the  Holy  One  of  Israel?  Does  the 
Lord  make,  and  then  violate  his  promise  ? 
"  Ask  now  of  the  days  that  are  past,  ask 
from  the  one  side  of  lieaven  unto  the  other, 
whether  such  a  thing  hath  ever  been  ?" 

Ther.  God  has  never  violated  his  pro- 
mise, when  it  was  expressly  made,  and  par- 
ticularly applied.  But  in  this  circumstance 
there  is  a  wide  difference  between  the  case 
of  your  friend,  and  the  case  of  his  poor  peo- 
ple. I  named  the  object  of  my  compassion 
in  one  of  the  instances,  and  made  a  personal 
a])plication  in  the  other  .  Neither  of  which 
is  done  in  the  Scriptures. 

Asp.  Though  we  are  not  particularly 
named,  yet  we  are  veiy  exactly  describ- 
ed, by  our  family,  our  inclination,  our 
practice.  What  says  eternal  Wisdom,  when 
she  makes  a  tender  of  her  inestimable  bless- 
ings ?  "  To  you,  O  men,"  not  to  fallen  an- 
gels, "  I  call ;  and  my  voice  is"  not  to  this 
man  or  that  man  exclusively,  but  "  to  the 
sons  of  men"  indefinitely,  Prov.  viii.  l. 
What  says  the  holy  apostle,  when  he  pub- 
lishes the  counsels  of  heaven  ?  "  This  is  a 
faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  accepta- 
tion, that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world 


to  save," — the  upright?  the  unblamable? 
Was  this  the  case,  our  hopes  would  be  co- 
vered with  a  cloud,  or  rather  totally  and  fi- 
nally eclipsed.  But  see  !  they  are  clear  as 
the  light,  and  conspicuous  as  the  noon-day. 
For  he  came  (cheering,  charming  word!) 
he  came  to  save  sinners.  1  Tim.  i.  15. 

Consonant  to  all  which  is  the  declaration 
of  another  sacred  envoy :  "  He,"  the  prince 
of  Peace,  the  monarch  of  the  universe, 
"  suffered" — for  whom  ?  They  in  whose  be- 
half this  matchless  ransom  was  paid,  must 
have  an  undeniable  right  to  look  upon  re- 
demption as  their  own :  And  blessed,  for 
ever  blessed  be  God,  it  is  most  peremptor- 
ily  said,  he  suffered — for  the  unjust,"  1  Pet. 
lii.  18. 

That  no  pnrt  of  our  character  might  be 
omitted,  and  no  part  of  our  misery  pass  un- 
relieved, it  is  farther  declared,  "  When  we 
\vere  without  strength,  Christ  died  for  the 
ungodly,"  Rom.  v.  6-  When  we  were  im- 
godly,  and  considered  only  as  ungodly  crea- 
tures ;  neither  possessed  of  any  thing  amia 
ble,  nor  having  the  least  ability  to  acquire 
it ;  nay,  A\hen  we  were  chargeable  with  the 
most  horrid  guilt,  and  incapable  of  expiat- 
ing a  single  offence  ;  then,  even  then,  Christ 
died — and  for  such  abominable  wretches  he 
died.  Are  we  not  of  the  human  family  ? 
Are  we  not  unjust,*  Rom.  v.  G,  towards  our 
fellow-creatures,  and  ungodly  towards  our 
great  Creator?  Are  we  not  in  all  rela- 
tions, and  in  every  respect,  shmers?  If  we 
are  (and  upon  these  questions  incredulity 
itself  will  scarcely  denuir,)  let  us  not  fro- 
v.'ardly  reject,  rather  let  us  thankfully  re- 
ceive those  spiritual  treasures,  which,  by 
virtue  of  the  afore-cited  conveyance,  belong 
to  such  people ;  which,  by  several  other 
clauses  in  the  will  and  testament  of  our 
crucified  Lord,  evidently  devolve  to  such 
persons. 

Ther.  Is  it  possible,  Aspasio  ?  Can  we 
be  warranted  and  encouraged  to  receive 
these  treasures,  in  a  capacity  and  under  a 
denomination,  which  I  should  think  more 
likely  to  exclude  us,  disinherit  us,  and  over- 
throw all  our  pretensions  ? 

Asp.  This  may  seem  strange,  but  it  is 
true.  All  the  blessings  of  the  gospel 
proceed  upon  a  supposition  of  sinfulness. 
Christ  is  made  wisdom  unto  his  people ;  but 
what  occasion  for  the  accession  of  wisdom, 
unless  it  be  in  the  case  of  ignorance  and 
folly  ?  Christ  is  made  righteousness  ;  but 
who  can  stand  in  need  of  a  justifying  right- 
eousness, if  they  are  not  in  themselves  un- 
profitable and  guilty  ?  Christ  is  made  sancti- 
fication  ;  and  does  not  this  imply  a  state  of 
corruption  to  be  remedied,  a  body  of  sin  to 


*  He  is  unjust  towards  his  neighbour,  who  neglects 
to  love  his  neighbour  .-is  himself.  And  if  this  is  the 
standard,  who  has  not  faUcu  short  f 


DIALOGUE  XVI. 


421 


be  destroyed  ?  Christ  is  made  redem])tion  , 
and  from  wliat  are  persons  redeemed  but 
from  chains  and  bondage,  from  misery  and 
ruin,  from  all  maimer  of  evil  ? 

It  is  also  a  most  precious  and  invaluable 
truth  ;  such  as  1  would  hold  fast,  and  never, 
never  let  go.  When  I  search  for  my  own 
endowments,  I  lind  nothing  that  I  dare  ven- 
ture to  plead,  being  in  my  best  moments, 
and  amidst  my  choicest  duties,  a  sinner. 
As  this  is,  at  all  times,  my  undoubted  cha- 
racter, I  have  at  all  times  an  undoubted 
warrant  to  say.  The  uncreated  Wisdom  call- 
eth  me  ;  the  blessed  Jesus  came  to  save 
me ;  the  great  Messiah  suffered  death  for 
me. 

Let  me  ilhistrate  the  point.  Romulus, 
you  know,  the  founder  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire, was  a  poor  prince,  had  but  a  handful 
of  subjects,  and  very  scanty  territories. 
What  expedient  could  he  devise  to  enlarge 
the  boundaries  of  the  one,  and  augment  the 
number  of  the  other  ?  He  issued  a  procla- 
mation, addressed  to  outlaws  and  criminals, 
all  that  were  involved  in  debt  or  obnoxious 
to  punishment,  promising  that  as  many  as 
would  settle  under  his  dominion,  should  be 
secured  from  prosecution,  and  vested  with 
considerable  privileges. — ^Ve  will  suppose 
a  person  in  those  distressed  circumstances. 
Upon  hearing  the  welcome  invitation,  he 
hangs  down  his  head,  and,  with  a  dejected 
air,  cries,  "  I  am  a  debtor,  I  am  a  criminal, 
and  therefore  unworthy  of  the  royal  protec- 
tion." What  answer  should  be  made  to 
such  a  dispirited  complainer  ?  Make  the 
same  to  yourself,  whenever  you  are  inclined 
to  renew  the  present  objections  :  Remem- 
bering, that  the  infinite  and  eternal  Sove- 
reign, to  display  the  magnificence  of  his 
majesty,  and  manifest  the  riches  of  his 
goodness,  has  commissioned  his  ambassadors 
to  publish  in  every  nation  under  heaven, 
"  That  all  unhapjiy  sinners,  who  are  op- 
pressed by  the  devil,  and  liable  to  damna- 
tion, may  come  to  Christ,  and  rely  on 
Christ ;  may  in  this  manner  obtain  pardon, 
righteousness,  and  all  the  privileges  of  child- 
ren." 

Ther.  At  this  rate,  the  vilest  miscreants 
have  as  clear,  nay,  have  the  very  same  warrant 
to  believe  in  Christ,  and  receive  his  salva- 
tion, as  the  highest  saints. 

Asp.  The  very  same.  In  this  respect 
there  is  no  difTerence.  All  have  sinned, 
and  must  sue  for  spiritual  blessings,  not  as 
deserving,  but  as  guilty  creatures  ;  must  re- 
ceive them,  not  as  the  recompense  of  their 
own  worth,  but  as  the  issues  of  infinite 
mercy.  The  vilest  miscreants  are  blinded 
by  the  devil,  and  enslaved  to  their  lusts  : 
therefore  they  see  no  beauty  in  a  Saviour, 
that  they  should  desire  him.  Whereas  when 
the  divine  Spirit  opens  their  eyes,  and  in- 
clines their  hearts,  they  discover  and  make 


use  of  just  the  same  right  to  Christ  and  his 
merit  as  the  liighest  saints  ; — a  light  found- 
ed not  on  their  awakened  desires,  not  on 
any  thing  in  themselves,  but  purely,  solely, 
entirely,  on  the  free  grant  of  a  Saviour. 

Should  you  ask  the  highest  saints,  on 
what  their  hopes  are  grounded  ?  This,  or 
something  to  this  effect,  woidd  be  their  re- 
ply:— "  On  the  free  exhibition  of  Christ 
and  his  salvatioii,  recorded  in  the  word  of 
truth.  There  we  find  it  written,  '  To  you,' 
though  Gentiles  and  idolaters,  '  is  preached 
the  remission  of  sins.'  Acts  xiii.  38. 
'  The  promise  is  to  you,'  es^en  to  you,  'whose 
wicked  hands  have  crucified  and  slain  the 
Lord  of  life  ;'  and  not  to  you  only,  but  '  to 
all  that  are  afar  ofl",  even  as  many  as  the  Lord 
our  God,'  by  the  message  of  his  everlasting 
gospel, '  shall  call.  '*  We  remember,  Theron, 
though  you  seem  to  have  forgotten,  the 
wretched  outcast,  polluted  in  its  blood,  yet 
accepted  by  the  Holy  One  of  Israel.  We 
remember  the  heavenly  gifts,  received  by 
the  triumphant  Redeemer,  for  enemies,  and 
for  the  rebellious.  Nor  can  we  easily  for- 
get the  promise  of  forgiveness  which  was 
made,  and  the  blessings  of  forgiveness  which 
was  vouchsafed,  even  to  the  murderers  of 
the  Lord  of  gloiy."| 

TTier.  This  is  a  pleasing  supposition. 
But  it  would  be  more  satisfactory,  if  you 
should  produce  any  of  the  saints  speaking  in 
this  manner. 

Asp.  Isaiah,  you  will  allow,  was  a  saint 
of  no  inferior  rank  :  Yet  he  breathes  the 
spirit  I  am  describing,  and  acts  the  part  I 
am  vindicating.  Turn  to  that  epitome  of 
the  gospel,  his  fifty-third  chapter.  There 
you  may  observe  him  claiming  a  share  in  the 
greatest  of  all  privileges,  salvation  through 
the  blood  of  Christ.  How  does  he  advance 
and  maintain  his  claim  ?  Not  in  the  capaci- 
ty of  a  sanctified,  but  under  the  cliaracter 
of  a  sinful  person.  These  are  his  words  ; 
"  The  Lord  hath  laid  on  him,"  on  his  Son 
Jesus  Christ  "the  iniquity  of  us  all,"  Isa.liii. 
6.  Of  me,  and  of  my  brethren  in  piety,  does 
he  mean  ?  No  ;  but  of  me  and  of  my  fellow- 
transgressors.  This  is  evidently  implied  in 
the  clause  I  have  quoted.  In  the  preceding 
part  of  the  verse,  the  prophet  explains  him- 
self, and  leaves  no  room  for  hesitation.  "  All 
we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray,  we  have 
turned  every  one  to  his  own  ways  ;"  yet  our 
transgressions,  our  iniquities,  the  God  of 
all   mercy   has   transferred    from    us,    and 


*  Acts  ii.  30.  Call — in  the  same  manner  as  he  call- 
ed those  to.  whom  Peter  spake ;  which  evidently 
means,  not  the  inward  efticacious  call,  wrought  hy 
the  Spirit,  but  the  outward  call,  delivered  in  the 
word.  Otherwise,  we  must  suppose  every  individual 
person  in  this  promiscuous  assembly  to  be  savingly 
changed  ;  which  will  hardly  be  credited  l)y  those  who 
remember,  that  the  congregation  consisted  of  mock- 
ers, murderers,  and  sinners. 

\  lleferring  to  Dialogue  XV. 


432 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


charged  upon  our  Redeemer.  As  the  vilest 
miscreants  .  are  indispensably  obliged  to 
confess  the  former,  they  have  a  free  and  full 
right  to  profess,  to  assert^  and  to  believe  the 
latter. 

At  this  you  may  probably  vi'onder5  at  this 
we  ought  all  to  wonder !  this  is  that  amazingly 
rich  grace,  which  will  be  the  wonderof  saints 
and  angels  through  a  boundless  eternity. 
Yet,  though  we  wonder,  let  us  not  murmur. 
Let  not  the  elder  brother  repine,  because 
the  yoimg  prodigal  enters  at  the  same  door, 
and  is  admitted  to  the  same  table  with  him- 
self. 

To  this  testimony  of  the  saints,  shall  I 
add  the  decision  of  their  King  ?  "  God  so 
loved  the  world,"  even  the  fallen,  the  wick- 
ed, the  apostate  world,  that,  in  the  fulness 
of  time,  "  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son," 
John  iii.  16,  to  bring  in  a  perfect  righteous- 
ness, and  obtain  eternal  redemption.  And 
he  slill  gives  him,  with  all  his  saving  bene- 
fits, in  the  promise  of  the  gospel. 

Tlier.  Docs  this  general  gift  warrant  a 
sinner  to  make  a  particular  application  of  all 
to  himself. 

Asp.  It  warrants,  it  demands,  and  in 
other  instances  obtains  a  particular  applica- 
tion. When  Jonah,  in  pursuance  of  the 
divine  command,  "  cried  and  said.  Yet  forty 
days,  and  Nineveh  shall  be  overthrown  ;" 
there  was  no  particular  mention  of  man,  wo- 
man, or  child.  Neither  the  king,  nor  the 
nobles,  nor  the  commons  were  specified. 
Much  less  was  each  and  every  inhabitant 
threatened  by  name.  Nevertheless,  this 
general  denunciation  alarmed  them  all ;  was 
influential  on  them  all.  Insomuch  that  "  the 
people  of  Nineveh  believed  God,  and  pro- 
claimed a  fast,  and  put  on  sackloth,  from  the 
greatest  of  them  even  to  the  least."  Jonah 
iii.  5.  They  believed  ;  hence  we  learn  the 
true  nature  of  believing :  "  God  speaks  to 
me,  and  what  he  speaks  he  will  perform  ;" 
is  its  genuine  profession.  Hence  we  like- 
wise discover  who  they  are  which  ought  in 
this  manner  to  apply  the  general  word,  "  All, 
from  the  least  even  unto  the  greatest,  believ- 
ed." 

Ther.  The  case  is  not  parallel,  Aspasio. 
This  was  a  denunciation  of  vengeance,  not 
a  promise  of  grace. 

Asp-  And  can  you  suppose  that  God  is 
more  liberal  of  vengeance  than  he  is  com- 
municative of  grace  ?  Vengeance  is  his  strange 
work,  but  in  mercy  and  loving  kindness  he 
delighteth.  Are  we  bound  to  believe  and 
apply  his  dreadful  threatenings  ?  not  allowed 
to  believe  and  apply  his  precious  promises  ? 
Surely  the  Lord's  ways  are  not  so  unequal. 
When  the  law  says,  "  Cursed  is  every  one 
that  continueth  not  in  all  things,"  Gal.  iii. 
10,  should  not  every  hearer  take  this  to 
himself,  and  sulmiit  to  the  seiUcnce  of  just 
ondemnation?  When  the  go'^jx.'i  says,  "  He 


came  to  save  that  which  was  lost,''  Matth. 
xviii.  11,  should  not  every  hearer  take  this 
also  to  himself,  and  embrace  the  tender  of 
free  salvation. 

However,  if  you  dislike  my  instance,  I 
will  give  you  another ;  which  is  not  of  the 
vindictive,  but  of  the  beneficent  kind 
When  the  manna  made  its  first  appearance 
in  the  wilderness  ;  when  the  Israelites  knew 
neither  what  it  was,  nor  for  whom  intended ; 
both  these  particulars  were  explained  by 
Moses  :  "  This  is  the  bread  which  the  Lord 
hath  given  you  to  eat."  Exod.  xvi.  15.  No 
mention  is  made  of  any  individual  person. 
Yet  the  whole  congregation  looked  upon 
this  as  an  undoubted  permission,  both  for 
themselves  and  their  children,  to  gather,  to 
fetch  homeland  to  use  the  miraculous  food. 
And  here,  Theron,  here  lies  the  principal 
ditfereiice  between  the  vile  miscreant^  and 
the  exalted  saint :  not  that  the  one  was 
originally  better  than  the  other ;  not  that 
the  one  has  a  clearer  grant  of  Christ  than 
the  other;  but  the  latter  has  gathered  the 
heavenly  manna,  and  uses  it  to  his  unspeak- 
able advantage  :  whereas  it  lies  round  about 
the  tents  of  the  former ;  and  whoever  willj 
may  take,  may  eat,  and  his  soul  shall  live. 
Ther.  God  gave  the  manna  to  all  the  Is- 
raelites, both  good  and  bad.  But  does  he 
give  Christ  with  this  unlimited  freeness  ? 

Asp.  Our  Lord  himself,  alluding  to  this 
very  miracle,  vouchsafes  you  an  answer: 
"  I\Iy  Father  giveth  you  the  true  bread  from 
heaven,"  John  vi.  32.  My  Father  giveth 
you  his  incarnate  Son,  and  his  divinely  ex- 
ceilcnt  rigliteousness.  These  are  bread  in- 
deed ;  bread  which  came  down  from  the 
regions  of  heaven  ;  and  bread  which  nourish- 
eth  the  soul  for  the  joys  of  heaven.  This 
my  Father  giveth  you  ;  though  not  in  actual 
possession,  yet  in  right  to  possess.  This 
he  giveth  you,  in  the  free  indefinite  grant  of 
his  word  ;  without  which  grant,  any  attempt 
to  possess,  even  in  the  most  upright  of  men, 
would  be  illegal  and  presumptuous  ;  by  vir- 
tue of  which  grant,  even  the  poor  sinner  has 
an  unquestionable  warrant  to  receive  and 
possess  the  riches  of  Christ. 

Ther.  Unquestionable!  is  not  this  expres- 
sion too  peremptory  ?  That  such  a  grant 
should  be  made  to  believers,  I  can  easily 
conceive  :  But  is  it  made  to  sinners — tp 
any  sinners — to  the  most  abandoned  sin- 
ners ? 

Asp.  Yes,  Theron,  to  sinners.  And 
when  sinners  receive  the  grant,  then  they 
commence  believers.  Was  it  made  to  be- 
lievers only,  no  man  living  would  inherit  the 
blessing;  because  all  men  are,  by  the  de- 
pravity and  impotence  of  their  nature,  ori- 
ginally concluded  under  sin  and  unbLliet. 

What  said  our  Lord?  My  Father  giveth 
you  ;  tiiat  is,  the  people  who  stood  around 
:!nd  heard  his  gracious  voice  ;  many  of  viliom 


DIALOGUE  XVI. 


vere  in  a  carnal  state  liiil)itiially,  and  even 
tlien  were  in  a  inurmnring  wicked  frame. 
John  vi.  26,  4-1.  What  says  his  jjrophet? 
"  To  us  a  Son  is  given,"  not  to  us  who  were 
antecedently  children  of  the  light,  hut  who 
"  walk  in  darkness,  and  dwell  in  the 
shadow  of  death,"  Isa.  ix.  2,  6.  AVhat  saith 
God  the  Lord,  he  that  created  the  heavens, 
and  stretched  them  out  ?  "  I  will  give  thee," 
meaning  his  beloved  Son,  "  for  a  covenant ;" 
it  is  nut  said,  of  believers,  but  "  of  the  peo- 
ple ;"  it  is  not  said,  of  new  creatures,  but 
"  of  the  Gentiles  ;"  who  were  the  vilest  of 
all  creatures,  or,  as  you  have  properly  spoke, 
t!ie  most  abandoned  sinners.  That  we  may 
understand  more  clearly  the  signification  of 
these  terms,  and  see  the  true  extent  of  this 
gift,  it  is  added,  1  will  give  thee  "  to  open 
the  blind  eyes,  and  to  bring  out  the  prison- 
ers from  the  prison,"  Isa.  xlii.  6,  7.  Misera- 
l)le  and  guilty  wretches,  blinded  by  the  de- 
vil, and  enslaved  to  their  lusts  ;  these  are 
the  patentees  in  the  heavenly  grant.  To 
these  the  great  Surety  is  given,  together 
with  all  the  benefits  of  his  covenant. 

Here  then  the  grant  and  the  gift  are  men- 
tioned ;  the  persons  lor  whom  they  are 
designed  are  specified,  and  expressly  named. 
They  are  sinners  ;  blinded  and  enslaved  sin- 
ners ;  or,  if  therebeany  othermore  obnoxious 
.soit,  they  are  all  comprehended  in  this  one 
word,  Gentiles.  Only  allow  these  texts  to 
be  true ;  only  allow  the  divine  speaker  to 
be  sincere  and  faithful ;  then  we  may  bold- 
ly affirm,  that  any,  that  every  poor  sinner  is 
uutliorized  to  say,  "  God  gives  me  his  Son, 
to  be  my  co\enant-surety.  I  take  him  at 
his  word.  The  Surety  and  all  his  merits  are 
mine."  Divinely  rich  bounty  !  O  let  us  not 
refuse  wliat,  on  this  consideration,  the  un- 
erring S])irit,  calls  "  our  own  mercy."  Jonah 
ii.  8.  Let  us  adore  the  beneficence  of  our 
God;  let  us  believe  his  promising  word;  and 
in  tiiis  sweet,  this  easy  maimer,  obtain  both 
j)resent  and  final  salvation. 

T/ur.  Let  me  recollect : — Christ  is  given 
for  the  world,  the  apostate  world,  to  believe 
on  :  Christ  has  died,  not  for  the  righteous, 
but  for  the  ungodly:  Christ  came  in  the 
llesh  to  save  sinners,  even  the  chief  of  sin- 
ners. Well,  Aspasio,  if  these  things  are 
true,  (and  how  can  they  be  otherwise,  since 
tlicy  are  the  express  doctrine  of  scri])ture  ?) 
it  is  ]>ity  but  they  were  more  generally 
known.  For  my  [lart,  I  must  confess,  they 
arc  not  only  new,  but  strange  to  me. 
'i'hough  I  have  read  them  in  the  Uible,  yet 
when  I  come  to  consider  them,  and  com- 
}»;ire  them  with  what  passes  in  my  breast, 
I  (ind  tliey  are  quite  contrary  to  n)y  usual 
ways  of  tiiinking. 

As/).  You  remind  me  of  a  valuable  per- 
son, whom  I  once  numbered  among  my  ac- 
(jutiintance,  and  wliose  way  of  ihinking  was 


433-- 

Will  you 


somewhat  similar  to  your  own. 
give  me  leave  to  relate  his  case? 

Titer.  Most  gladly.  It  will  be  some 
kind  of  consolation  to  hear  that  others  have 
laboured  under  the  s;ime  difficulties  with 
myself,  and  been  subject  to  the  same  dis- 
tresses. If  I  am  informed  of  their  deliv- 
erance from  those  distresses,  it  will  be  like 
showing  me  an  opened  door  for  cftecting  mv 
own  escape.  If  I  am  likewise  acquainted 
with  the  manner  of  their  deliverance,  this 
will  furnish  me  with  a  clue  to  guide  my 
steps. 

Asp.  This  person  was  roused  from  a 
habit  of  indolence  and  supineness,  into  a 
serious  concern  for  his  eternal  welfaie. 
Convinced  of  his  depraved  nature  and  ag- 
gravated guilt,  he  had  recourse  to  the  scrij)- 
tures,  and  to  frequent  prayer.  He  attended 
the  ordinances  of  Christianity,  and  sought 
earnestly  for  an  assured  interest  in  Christ ; 
but  found  no  steadfiist  faith,  and  tasted  very 
little  comfort — At  length  he  applied  to  aic 
eminent  divine,  and  laid  open  the  state  of 
his  heart.  Short,  but  weighty,  was  the  an- 
swer he  received :  "  I  perceive,  Sir,  the 
cause  of  all  your  distress.  You  do  not, 
you  will  not,  come  to  Christ  as  a  sinner. 
This  mistake  stands  between  your  soul  and 
the  joy  of  religion.  This  detains  you  in 
the  gall  of  bitterness  ;  and  take  heed,  O  ! 
take  heed,  lest  it  consign  you  over  to  the 
bond  of  iniquity!"  This  admonition  never 
departed  from  the  gentleman's  mind  ;  and 
it  became  a  happy  means  of  removing  the 
obstructions  to  his  peace. 

Remember  this  little  history,  Theron ; 
and  may  it  prove  as  eflicacious  for  your 
good,  as  it  is  pertinent  to  your  circum- 
stances !  Remember,  that  the  free  giant  of 
Christ,  made  in  the  word  of  truth,  and  ad- 
dressed to  sinners  of  mankind,  is  the  oidy 
basis  and  ground- work  of  faith.  An  ajtos 
tie,  after  all  the  labours  of  his  exemplary 
life,  can  have  no  better.  And  a  Magda- 
lene or  a  Manasseh,  as  a  motive  and  en- 
couragement for  their  ttn-ning  to  the  Lord, 
have  the  very  same. 

But  we  digress  from  the  principal  sub- 
ject. Since  you  disajjprove  my  account  of 
faith,  I  must  desire  you  to  favour  me  with 
a  description  more  correct  and  unexccjjtion- 
able  ;  For,  as  you  justly  observed,  this  is  a 
very  momentous  article.  Is  not  t'hristtl.;:- 
source  of  all  spiritual  good,  and  failh  tlie 
main  channel  of  conveyance?  Surely  then 
it  should  be  made  and  kept  as  clear  as  jjos- 
sible.  Is  not  Christ  the  foundation  of  all 
true  godliness,  and  faith  the  master-arch 
in  this  sacred  structure?  Surely  tlieu  it 
should  be  raised  and  turned  ^itii  the  ut- 
most care. 

T/icr.  I'ahemoirs  account  is  this — I'aiih, 
he   says,    is  a   iiim  jjcrsuasion,   tiiat    J^■^u.^ 


434  THERON  AND  ASPASIO 

Christ  has  shed  his  blood,  and  fulfilled  all 
righteousness ;  has  sustained  the  punishment 
due  to  sin,  and  obtained  full  reconciliation 
with  God  :  that  all  this  grace,  and  each  of 
these  benefits,  are  free,  perfectly  free—  for 
you,  for  me,  for  others.  In  consequence  of 
this  persuasion,  the  sinner  flies  to  Christ, 
comes  to  Christ,  and  trusts  in  Christ  for 
liis  own  salvation. 

Asp.  I  have  the  highest  regard  for  Palte- 
mon's  judgment ;  and  I  cannot  but  think 
my  opinion  is  confirmed  even  by  his.  The 
act  of  flying  to  Christ,  is  an  api)ropriating 
act.  It  implies  an  intention  to  get  out  of 
danger  ;  it  implies  a  discovery  of  Christ  as 
the  appointed  safety  ;  and  consists  in  mak- 
ing use  of  him  as  such.  How  can  this  be 
done,  but  by  a  persuasion  that  he  is  mine? 
That  his  sufferings  were  in  my  stead,  and 
that  his  death  is  my  safeguard?  What  is 
meant  by  coming  to  Christ,  we  may  learn 
from  Jeremiah  :  "  Behold  !  we  come  unto 
thee,  for  thou  art  the  Lord  our  God."  Jer. 
iii.  22.  Coming,  you  see,  includes  a  real 
persuasion  that  the  Lord  is  our  God. 
While  we  arc  wholly  destitute  of  this  per- 
suai;ion,  we  stand  at  a  distance,  and  our 
souls  are  afar  off.  We  are  never  brought 
nigh  ;  we  never  come,  in  the  prophets 
sense,  till  we  are  taught  to  say,  each  one 
for  himself,  "  Thou  art  the  Lord  my  God." 
The  act  of  trusting  in  Christ  is  much  of 
the  same  nature  :  It  pre-supposes  that 
Christ  is  the  trustee  of  the  covenant  of 
grace  ;  it  proceeds  u{>on  a  conviction  of  his 
faithfulness  in  executing  the  office  ;  and  it  is 
a  solemn  surrender  or  giving  up  the  whole 
affair  of  our  salvation  into  his  hand  ;  giving 
it  up,  not  in  uncertainty  of  success,  (this 
would  be  mistrusting  rather  than  trusting,) 
but  with  a  certainty  in  some  measiu-e  suit- 
able to  the  fidelity  and  ability  of  Him  with 
whom  we  have  to  do. 

If  you  still  are  doubtful,  whether  any 
such  persuasion  is  implied  in  trusting,  let 
us  choose  a  referee.  Let  us  carry  our 
controversy  to  the  king  of  Israel.  Inquire 
of  David,  why  he  trusts  in  the  Lord,  and 
what  he  means  by  trusting  ?  To  both  these 
inquiries  he  answers  distinctly  and  fully  : 
"  The  Lord  is  my  high  tower,  my  shield, 
and  he  in  whom  I  trust,"  Psal.  cxliv.  2.  "  He 
is — be  is  my  shield ;  of  this  I  am  persuad- 
ed, and  therefore  I  trust  in  him  ;  or,  this  I 
believe,  and,  in  so  doing,  I  trust  on  him." 

Ther.  There  is  an  air  of  assurance  in 
your_Irepresentation  of  faith,  which  sounds 
harsh  in  my  ear,  and  appears  presumptuous 
in  my  eye.  It  is  as  if  people  pretended  to 
know  their  seat  in  heaven  before  the  judg- 
ment-day. 

Asp.  The  Papists,  I  own,  take  great  of- 
fence at  this  expression,  and  utterly  explode 
this  doctrine.  But  they  are  no  infallible 
guides  for  us  to  toUow ;  neither  are  they 


very  inviting  patterns  for  us  to  imitate. 
You  and  I,  Theron,  cannot  be  offended  at 
the  expression  or  the  doctrine,  if  we  recol- 
lect what  we  have  been  taught  in  the  first 
stage  of  life,  and  what  is  professed  in  the 
last  scene  of  mortality.  We  are  taught, 
even  from  our  infancy,  that  the  sacrament 
of  the  Lord's  supper  is  not  only  a  sign  of 
spiritual  grace,  but  a  pledge  to  assure  us 
thereof.  At  the  interment  of  the  dead,  we 
profess  our  sure  and  certain  hope  of  a  re- 
surrection to  eternal  life.  That  this  is  al- 
M'ays  applied,  with  due  propriety,  in  our 
burial-service,  I  will  not  ventm-e  to  assert  ; 
that  it  sufficiently  countenances  my  senti- 
ments, none  will  undertake  to  deny.  And 
if  this  countenances,  the  apostle  authorizes 
them,  when  he  addresses  us  with  this  very 
remarkable  exhortation  :  "  Having  there- 
fore, brethren,  boldness  to  enter  into  the- 
holiest  by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  let  us  draw 
near  with  a  true  heart  in  full  assurance  of 
faith  ;"  with  afu'm  persuasion  of  acceptance ; 
with  a  certain  expectation  of  success. 

However,  if  you  dislike  the  word  assur- 
ance, we  will  change  it  for  the  more  soften- 
ed, and  more  modestly- soxuiding  term  ap- 
propriation. 

Ther.  You  change  it  for  a  more  softened, 
not  for  a  more  intelligible  term.  I  must 
desire  to  know  what  you  mean  by  the  word 
appropriation. 

Asp.  To  appropriate,  in  the  theological 
sense,  is  to  take  home  the  grace  of  God, 
which  lies  in  the  common  indefinite  grant 
of  the  gospel.  Is  Christ  the  treasure  hid 
in  the  field ?  To  appropriate  this  treasiue, 
is  to  receive  and  use  it  as  our  own  portion. 
Is  Christ  the  balm  of  Gilead,  full  of  saving 
health  ?  To  appropriate  this  balm,  is  to  take 
and  apply  it  for  the  recovery  of  our  o\\n 
souls.  And  without  such  an  appropriation, 
how  can  we  either  be  enriched  by  the  for- 
mer, or  healed  by  the  latter  ? 

tiet  me  farther  explain  my  meaning,  and 
exemplify  the  position,  by  considering  Christ 
in  his  several  offices.  Christ,  as  a  Priest, 
is  made  to  guilty  creatures  righteousness. 
Wlien  we  appropriate  the  grace  of  our  great 
High  Priest,  this  is  the  language  of  our 
hearts,  "  In  the  Lord  have  I  righteousness." 
Isaiah  xlv.  24.  Christ,  as  a  Prophet,  is 
made  to  ignorant  creatures  wisdom.  When 
we  appropriate  the  benefits  of  our  imerriiig 
Prophet,  this  is  the  persuasion  of  our  souls, 
"  Though  I  sit  in  darkness,  the  Lord  will 
be  a  light  unto  me."  Micah  vii.  8.  Christ, 
as  a  King,  is  made  unto  depraved  creatures 
sanctification.  When  we  appropriate  the 
munificence  of  our  Almighty  King,  this  is 
our  comfortable  tnist,  "  The  Lord  will  de- 
liver me  from  every  evil  work.  "2  Tim.  iv.  18. 

This  is  what  I  mean  by  appropriation. 
That  something  of  this  kind  is  included  in 
the   essence  of  faith,  is  the  sentiment  I 


DIALOGUE  X\'I. 


435 


woiila  m.iintaiii.  "W'liich  soiUiineiit  might 
be  confirmed,  if  $iich  confirmiition  were  de- 
manded, by  a  multitude  of  the  most  illus- 
trious witnesses:  witnesses  so  illustrious, 
that  they  were  a  blessing  to  the  world,  and 
an  honour  to  human  nature ;  so  numerous, 
that,  without  giving  an  abstract  of  their  tes- 
timonies, it  might  seem  tedious  only  to  re- 
cite their  names.* 

Thcr.  I  will  dispense  with  your  recital 
of  their  names,  only  let  me  have  a  specimen 
of  their  testimonies. 

Anp.  First,  then,  let  me  present  you 
with  Dr.  Owen  ;  than  whom  England  has 
j^roduccd  few  writers  either  more  judicious 
or  more  devout.  "  Faith,"  he  tells  us  in 
his  catechism,  "  is  a  gracious  resting  upon 
the  free  promises  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ 
for  mercy,  with  a  firm  persuasion  of  heart 
that  God  is  a  reconciled  Father  to  us  in  the 
Son  of  his  love."  Next  let  me  introduce 
the  learned  and  justly  celebrated  Altingius, 
professorofdivinityat  Heidelberg.  "  Faith," 
he  says,  "  is  a  knowledge  of  the  grace  of 
God  in  Christ,  together  with  a  fiduciary  re- 
liance on  it,  or  an  application  of  it  to  a 
man's  own  self."  To  these  let  me  add 
the  unanimous  suffrage  of  the  churches  of 
the  Palatinate.  It  is  asked,  in  the  twenty- 
first  question  of  their  public  catechism, 
"  What  is  true  faith  ?"  To  which  this  an- 
swer is  returned.  "  It  is  not  only  an  assent 
to  all  the  truths  which  God  hath  revealed 
in  his  word ;  but  it  is  an  assured  trust, 
wrought  by  the  Holy  Spirit  in  my  heart, 
that  remission  of  sins,  complete  righteous- 
ness, and  eternal  life  are  given,  freely  given, 
not  toothers  only,  but  to  myself ;  and  all 
this  from  the  mere  mercy  of  God,  through 
the  alone  merits  of  Christ. 
These  testimonies  are  but  as  the'tythe  to  the 


If  the  reader  should  inquire  after  their  namcb,  he 
will  (ind  some  of  them  enumerated  in  the  following 
catalogue : — Luther,  L'alvin,  Melancthon,  Beza,  Uul- 
liu'^'ir,  Bucer,  Knox,  Craig,  Melvil,  Bruce,  Davidson, 
Forbes,  &c.  Ursinus,  Zanchius,  Junius,  Piscator, 
Rollock,  Dan.tus,  Wendelinus,  Chamierus,  Sharpius, 
liodius,  Parous,  Altingius,  Triglandii  (Gisbortus  and 
Jacobus,)  Arnoldus,  Maresius;  the  four  professors  at 
I.tyden,  Walla;us,  Rivetus,  Polyander,  Thysius; 
Wollebius,  Heidegerus,  Essenius,  Turrettinus,  i&c. 
Many  eminent  British  divines;  Bishops  Babington, 
Davtmant,  Hall  ;  Messrs.  Perkins,  Pemble,  Willet, 
Cinwtry,  Rogers,  Burgess,  Owen,  Marshall,  &c. 

1  f  we  were  apparently  and  demonstrably  in  an  error, 
yet,  to  err  with  such  company,  and  in  the  footsteps 
of  such  guides,  must  very  much  tend  to  mitigate  the 
severity  of  censure.  But,  I  believe,  few  serious  per- 
sons v;ill  venture  to  charge  error  and  delusion  >ipon 
such  a  venerable  body  of  Protestant  divines;  so  emi- 
nent for  their  learning,  and  so  exemplary  t'or  their 
holiness;  whose  labours  were  so  remarkably  owned 
by  (Jod,  and  whose  sentiments,  on  this  particular 
subject,  have  been  adopted  by  so  many  rcfoinicd 
churches.  The  declarations  of  the  English  and  Pala- 
tine churches  are  produced  in  the  dialogue.  1  have 
in  my  hand  an  extract  from  the  confessions  and  stan- 
dard doctrines  of  the  church — of  Scotland — of  Ireland 
— of  France — of  Helvetia;  with  all  which  Aspasio 
has  the  hajipiness  to  agree.  Only  some  of  them  arc 
much  stronger  in  displaying  and  maintaining  the  spc- 
cial/(V/Hcia,  or  the  appropriating  persuasion  of  failh. 
To  quote  them,  would  dignify  and  strengthen  the 
rxtuse.  But,  to  avoid  prolixity,  1  forego  this  advan- 
tage. 


whole  crop.  Vet  these  ai'e  more  tnan  enough 
to  exempt  mc  from  the  charge  of  singulari- 
ty. You  will  not  wonder  therefore,  if  I 
still  abide  by  tlie  good  old  Protestant  doc- 
trine, which  is  espoused  by  so  many  of  the 
ablest  judges,  which  was  the  darling  tenet 
of  almost  all  our  reformers  ;  which  has  been 
so  signally  instrtimental  in  demolishing  the 
superstitions  of  Popery  ;  and  is  so  evident- 
ly conducive  to  the  holiness  and  the  happi- 
ness of  Christians.  Especially  as  I  appre- 
hend, the  determinations  of  scripture,  and 
the  experience  of  scriptural  saints,  are  iill 
on  my  side. 

Ther.  You  have  now  brought  the  cause 
to  the  proper  bar.  When  a  question  so 
important  is  debated,  and  an  interest  so  mo- 
mentous is  concerned,  I  cannot  acquiesce  in 
any  authority  less  than  divine.  I  cannot, 
and  indeed  I  think  we  ought  not.  Nothing 
should  satisfy  us  on  such  an  occasion  but 
the  word,  which  is  imerring  and  decisive  ; 
the  word,  by  which  we  are  to  stand  or  fall 
eternally.  Whence  does  it  appear  that  the 
determinations  of  this  divine  word  are  on 
your  side  ? 

Asp.  From  the  noblest  description  of 
faith  which  language  itself  can  form.  The 
writer  to  the  Hebrews,  having  mentioned 
the  life  of  faith,  the  perseverance  of  faith, 
and  the  end  or  reward  of  faith,  proceeds  to 
a  definition  of  this  leading  grace,  "  Now 
faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for, 
the  evidenceof  things  not  seen,"  Heb.  xi.  I. 
"  The  evidence,"  exhibiting  not  a  faint  sur- 
mise, but  a  clear  demonstration,  both  of  in- 
visible blessings,  and  of  our  right  to  enjoy 
them.  "  The  substance,"  realizing  what  is 
promised  ;  and  giving  us,  as  it  were,  a  pos- 
session of  good  things  that  are  remote,  a 
present  possession  of  good  things  that  are 
future. 

Ther.  What  are  those  blessings,  and  these 
good  things? 

A.sp.  I  will  inform  my  Theron  ;  and  in 
such  a  manner,  from  such  passages,  as  shall 
farther  ascertain  my  representation  of  faith. 
What  says  the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles  ?  "  I 
preached  unto  you  the  gospel,''  1  Cor.  xv. 
1.  And  what  is  the  substance  of  this  evan- 
gelical dispensation?  "  Christ  died  for  our 
sins."  1  Cor.  xv.  3.  That  so  exalted  a  per- 
son as  the  Son  of  God,  and  Lord  of  glory, 
should  die,  is  wonderful !  That  he  should 
die  for  sins,  the  most  abominable  objects, 
and  for  sinners,  the  most  detestable  crea- 
tures, is  abundantly  more  wonderfid  !  Tliat 
he  shoidd  die,  not  for  sins  in  general,  but  for 
our  sins  in  particiihir,  this  is  inexpressibly 
vwonderful !  and  at  the  same  time  inexpress- 
ibly comfortable.  Here  we  have  the  gos- 
jiel  and  its  capital  blessing  expressed  in  this 
proi)osition,  "  Christ  died  for  our  sins." 
Here  we  have  faith  and  its  principle  acting 
expressed  in  this  proi)osition,  "  Christ  died 


436 

for  our  sins."  nil  ilie  former  is  preached,  the 
doctrine  is  not  gospel ;  till  the  latter  is  be- 
lieved, it  should  seem,  from  St.   Paul's  ac 
count,  the  conviction  is  not  faith. 

Let  me  produce  another  instance,  ex- 
tracted, like  the  preceding,  from  the  rolls  of 
heaven  -.  "  This  is  the  record,  that  God 
hath  given  to  us  eternal  life,"  1  John  v-  1 1 , 
not  proposed  it,  on  I  know  not  what  condi- 
tion, but  hath  given — freely  and  fully,  with- 
out any  reserve,  and  \vith  a  liberality  suited 
to  his  inconceivable  goodness,  hath  given 
the  richest  of  all  prizes ;  and  not  to  some 
only,  or  to  others,  but  to  lis,  even  to  us. 

Ther.  Us,  that  is,  the  apostles  and  exalt- 
ed saints. 

Asp.  Was  eternal  life  given  them  be- 
cause they  were  apostles  ?  No,  verily  ;  but 
because  Christ  died  for  them.  Did  Christ 
die  for  them,  because  they  were  exalted 
saints  ?  In  no  wise  ;  but  because  they  were 
miserable  sinners.  Eternal  life  was  pin*- 
chased  for  them  when  they  were  sinners. 
It  was  consigned  over  to  them  when  they 
were  sinners.  And  neither  the  purchase  nor 
the  gift  were  founded  on  their  being  saints, 
but  aimed  at  making  them  so. 

That  "  Christ  died  for  our  sins ;"  that 
"  God  hath  given  to  us  eternal  life  ;"  these 
are  the  blessings  of  which  faith  is  the  evi- 
dence ;  these  the  good  things  of  which  faith 
is  the  substance.  This  is  the  honey  in  the 
evangelical  hive ;  and  I  am  at  a  loss  to  con- 
ceive how  we  can  taste  the  honey,  without 
some  appropriation  of  the  good  things  to 
ourselves.  This,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  com 
prehended  in  all  those  figurative  descriptions 
of  faith  which  occur  in  holy  writ. 

Ther.  Favour  me  with  some  of  those  de- 
scriptions. I  begin  to  see  a  peculiar  beau- 
ty, and  an  unequalled  richness,  in  the  figm-es 
of  scripture.  Nothing  yields  me  a  more 
refined  pleasure,  than  to  investigate  and  dis- 
cover the  exact  sense  of  those  instructive 
images.  It  is  somewhat  like  kindli;ig  the 
consecrated  incense  ;  which,  when  rising  in 
a  flame,  diffused  light ;  when  spreading  in 
clouds  of  fragrance,  distributed  refreshment. 
Asp.  Faith  is  styled,  "  a  looking  unto 
Jesus."  But  if  we  do  not  look  imto  Jesus 
as  the  propitiation  for  our  sins,  what  com- 
fort or  what  benefit  can  we  derive  from  the 
sight  ?  "A  receiving  of  Christ."  But 
can  I  have  any  pretence  to  receive  him,  or 
take  possession  of  his  merits,  unless  I  am 
convinced,  that  they  are  intended  for  me  ? 
This  is  what  neither  the  dictates  of  con- 
science will  allow,  nor  the  laws  of  reason 
authorize.  "  A  resting  upon  Christ."*     But 

•  I  find  two  words  in  the  original,  which  express 
the  privilege  and  the  duty  of  resting  on  Christ  ;  one 
implies  such  a  state  of  acquiescence  as  silences  the 
clamours  of  conscience,  and  composes  the  perturba- 
tion of  the  spirit ;  the  other  signifies  the  refreshment 
and  repose  of  a  weary  pilgrim,  when  he  arrivesat  the 
end  of  his  journey,  and  is  settled  for  life  in  a  secure, 
commodious,  plentiful  habitatit  n.  I'salm  xxxvii.  7. 
Isa.  x.wiii.  12. 


THERON.AND  ASPASIO. 

how  can  we  rest  on  a  surety,  if  he  has  not 
interposed  on  our  behalf?  or  how  confide 
in  a  payment,  which  we  believe  to  be  made 
for  others,  not  for  ourselves  ? — Surely,  The- 
ron,  when  I  rest  upon  an  object,  I  use 
it  as  my  support :  When  I  receive  a  gift,  I 
take  it  as  my  own  property.  And  when  the 
Israelites  looked  unto  the  brazen  serpent, 
they  certainly  regarded  it  as  a  remedy,  each 
particular  person  for  himself. 

Ther.  To  cast  ourselves  upon  Clirist,  as 
an  all-sufficient  Saviour  ;  and  rely  upon 
him  for  om'  whole  salvation — is  not  this  real 
faith  ?  This  is  what  I  heard  some  time  ago 
from  a  celebrated  pulpit. 

Asp.  If  you  rely  on  the  all- sufficiency  of 
his  will,  as  well  as  of  his  power ;  if  you 
take  the  comfort  and  apj)ropriate  the  benefit 
resulting  from  both  ;  you  practise  the  very 
thing  I  recommend.  This  is  what  w;is 
taught  from  the  pulpit  of  infallibility  ;  and 
by  those  first  of  preachers,  \vho  spake  as 
the  Holy  Ghost  gave  them  utterance.  Let 
the  convinced  sinner,  and  the  affl.icted  soul, 
"triist  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay 
upon  his  God."  Let  him  not  only  rever- 
ence Christ  as  the  incarnate  God,  and  there-- 
fore  mighty  to  save  ;  but  look  upon  Christ 
as  his  God,  and  therefore  willing  to  save. 
Thus  let  him  "  lean  n])on  the  Rock  of 
ages,"  Isa.  1.  10,  without  indulging  a  doubt 
concerning  his  right  to  make  use  of  it,  or 
the  possibility  of  its  failing  him. 

To  "  cast  ourselves  upon  Christ ;  to  cast 
our  bm'den,"  or  "  to  cast  all  our  care  Ewg- 
^t^avTii  upon  the  Lord ;  1  Pet.  v.  7  ;  are 
metaphors,  which  may  receive  some  eluci- 
dation from  an  incident  recorded  in  the 
Acts.  When  the  maiiners  and  passengers 
which  sailed  with  St.  Paul,  saw  their  ves- 
sel shattered ;  saw  the  waves  prevailing ; 
saw  no  hope  of  safety  from  continuing  in 
the  ship  ;  they  cast  themselves  AcTo^^i\}/av- 
Ti;  upon  the  floating  planks.  Acts  xxvii. 
43.  They  cast  themselves  upon  the  planks 
without  any  scruple,  not  questioning  their 
right  to  make  use  of  them  ;  and  they  clave 
to  those  supporters  with  a  cheerful  confi- 
dence, not  doubting  but,  according  to  the 
apostle's^^promise,  they  should  escape  safe 
to  land.  Be  this  what  people  mean  when 
they  speak  of  venturing  or  casting  them- 
selves upon  Christ,  and  I  approve  the  ex- 
pression, I  subscribe  the  doctrine.  It  speaks 
what  I  wish  for  my  friend,  for  myself,  and 
for  my  fellow-sinners. 

Let  us  shift  our  situation,  and  view  the 
point  in  another  light.  Consider  the  bless- 
ed and  glorious  object  of  our  faith.  Christ 
is  represented  by  the  similitude  of  bread, 
heavenly  bread  for  the  hungry  soul.  Faith 
is  characterised  by  eating  the  food.  And 
can  this  be  done  without  a  personal  applica- 
tion ?  Chiist  is  held  forth  under  the  image 
of  living  waters,  ever  running,  and  always 


DLALOGUE  XVI. 


437 


free  for  tlie  tliirsty  appetite.  But  let  them 
nin  ever  so  copiously,  let  them  be  presented 
ever  so  freely,  nil  this  will  neither  quench  the 
tliirst,  nor  refresh  the  spirits,  unless  they 
are  drank.  To  do  this  is  the  business  of 
faith.  Christ  is  described  as  a  garment,  to 
accommodate  destitute,  and  beautify  de- 
formed creatures.  Faith  is  expressed  by 
putting  on  this  commodious  garment,  and 
^vearing  this  beautiful  robe.  And  can  any 
idea,  or  any  expression,  more  strongly  de- 
note an  actual  appropriation  ? 

Ther.  It  is  evident,  that  many  holy  peo- 
ple, in  former  ages,  were  not  possessed  of 
assurance.  What  is  the  language  of  David  ? 
It  is  ail  despondency  :  "  I  am  cast  out  of 
the  sight  of  thine  eyes."  To  the  same  me- 
laiiehoiy  tune  is  the  harp  of  Asaph  strung  : 
"  Is  his  mercy  clean  gone  for  ever  ?  doth  his 
promise  fail  for  evermore  ?  The  same  jea- 
lous and  distrustful  air  breathes^in  the  com- 
plaint of  the  church.  "  The  Lord  hath  for- 
saken me,  and  my  Lord  hath  forgotten  me." 
Why  then  should  my  Aspasio  set  up  a  rule 
stricter  and  higher  than  those  eminent  saints 
attained. 

Asp.  You  should  rather  ask.  Why  have 
the  best  judges,  and  the  most  exemplary 
Christians,  in  their  several  writings,  set  up 
this  rule  ?  Why  have  the  apostles  of  our 
Lord,  and  the  Spirit  of  our  God,  sjieaking 
in  the  Bible,  set  up  this  rule  ?  To  which 
I  might  reply.  Because  it  is,  of  all  precepts, 
the  most  beneficial.  Therefore  they  have 
not  so  much  set  it  up  under  the  notion  of  a 
strict  rule,  as  they  have  set  it  forth  under 
the  character  of  a  choice  blessing. 

Your  complaint,  when  put  into  its  proper 
language,  seems  to  run  thus  :  "  Why  must 
we  be  obliged  to  trust  in  Christ  alone .' 
Why  must  we  be  obliged  to  assure  our- 
selves of  salvation  by  him?''  Whereas,  in» 
stead  of  a  complaint,  it  should  be  matter  of 
exultation,  and  we  should  rather  express 
ourselves  in  this  manner  :  "  Bless  the  Lord, 
O  my  soul,  that  a  sinner,  such  a  vile  sinner, 
should  be  allowed  to  take  Christ  and  all  his 
salvation  as  my  own  ;  and  thus  to  assure 
myself  of  pardon,  holiness   and  glory." 

This  blessing  was  certainly  enjoyed  by 
the  holy  men  of  old ;  but,  like  every  other 
species  of  felicity  in  this  world,  it  was  en- 
joyed after  an  imperfect  manner.  They  had 
an  assured  persuasion  of  God's  present  fa- 
vour, and  of  their  own  final  happiness. 
Nevertheless,  this  assured  persuasion  was 
liable  to  the  assaults,  both  of  outward  temp- 
tations and  of  inward  corruptions,  which 
might  for  a  while  impair  its  vigour,  though 
not  destroy  its  being  ;  as  under  a  transient 
swoon  the  s|)irits  fail,  the  colour  departs, 
but  the  vital  princi[)le  still  subsists. 

You  may  tardier  observe,  concerning  those 
pious  persons,  that,  when  they  cease  to  ex- 
ercise this  confidence  rf  faith,  they  lament 


the  failure  :  "  I  said,  this  is  my  infirmity." 
Psal.  Ixxvii.  10.  They  chide  themselves 
for  it :  "  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my 
soul  ?■■'  They  encourage  themselves  against 
it :  "  Hope  in  God,"  Psiil.  xlii.  5 ;  it  is  thy 
unquestionable  privilege.  How  could  they 
do  this — on  what  grounds,  or  from  what 
motive — if  they  had  not  a  secret  persuasion 
that  their  ransom  was  paid,  and  their  God 
reconciled ;  consequently,  that  all  their 
doubts  were  an  injury  to  his  fidelity  and  to 
his  goodness  ? 

Nay,  the  church,  even  under  her  darkest 
apprehensions,  still  speaks  the  sentiment, 
still  retains  the  grace  for  which  I  am  plead- 
ing :  "  My  Lord,"  uttered  with  her  lips, 
argues  an  applicatory  faith  in  her  heart.  So 
copious  and  pregnant  are  the  evidences  of 
this  precious  doctrine  !  It  is  confirmed  by 
that  very  passage  wliich  was  produced  for 
its  confutation. 

Ther.  If  this  be  the  sentiment  of  the 
church  in  general,  is  it  also  the  temper  of 
her  particular  members  ?  Was  each  of  them 
animated  by  this  firm  and  lively  faith? 

Anp.  Let  these  particular  persons  appear 
and  answer  for  themselves.  Hear  the  de- 
claration of  the  Psalmist:  "  Bless  the  Lord, 
O  my  sold  ;  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless 
his  holy  name."  Psal.  ciii.  1,  2.  What  is 
the  cause  of  this  holy  transport  and  devout 
pi'aise  ?  Is  it,  because  God  possibly  may ; 
because  he  probably  will  ?  No  ;  but  because 
he  iictually  does  forgive  :  "  Who  forgiveth 
iiU  thine  iniquities."  Take  notice  of  .Job's 
belief,  and  Job's  support,  amidst  his  un- 
exampled sufferings  :  "  I  know  that  my  Re- 
deemer liveth  ;"  not  only  that  there  is  a 
Redeemer,  but  that  he  is,  together  with  all 
his  saving  benefits,  mine ;  which,  being  a 
truth  so  sweet  and  delightful,  is  expressed  a 
second  time  :  "  Whom  I  shall  see  for  my- 
self," Job  xix.  25 — 27,  to  my  own  advan- 
tage and  for  my  own  comfort :  see  him  ex-. 
erting  his  almighty  j)owcr  and  infinite  mer- 
cy, to  rescue  my  body  from  the  grave,  and 
to  deliver  my  soul  from  hell.  What  was 
Habakkuk's  security,  amidst  the  threatening, 
the  tremendous,  the  tiiumphant  malice,  of 
his  own  and  his  country's  enemies  ?  "  The 
Lord  God  is  my  strength."  He  says  not, 
I  wish,  I  j)ray,  for  the  divine  fa\ourand  the 
divine  succour;  but  I  am  persuaded  they 
both  are  mine;  my  inestiin;il)le  portion,  and 
my  inviolable  safeguard.  "  He  will  make 
my  feet  like  hind's  feet,"  that  I  sjiall  per- 
fectly escape  from  all  danger;  "and  he  will 
make  me  walk  upon  mine  high  places,"  be- 
yond the  reach  of  every  evil.  Hab.  iii.  19. 
Ther.  Is  this  tbe  lajiguage  of  believers 
under  the  New  Testament  dispensation  ? 

Asp.  Under  every  dispensation,  Theron. 
They  who  lived  before  the  law  "  were  per- 
suaded" (Vlna^ivrii)  of  the  promises;  had 
not  the  least  distrust  with  rcL'ard  to  the 


438 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO- 


certainty  of  their  performance  ;  nay,  they 
"  embraced  them"  (AircrairaiKsvoi)  as  their 
own  ;  they  hugged  them,  as  it  were,  to  their 
very  souls.  Heb.  xi.  13.  They  who  lived 
under  the  law  could  say,  "  As  far  as  the 
east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath  he  remov- 
ed our  transgressions  from  us."  Psalm  ciii. 
1 2. .  And  can  you  imagine  in  the  days  of 
the  gospel,  when  our  advantages  are  greater 
and  our  light  is  clearer,  that  our  faith  should 
be  weaker,  or  our  hope  fainter  ?  St.  Peter 
makes  a  profession,  which  excludes  all 
doubting :  "  I  am  a  witness  of  the  sufferings 
of  Christ,  and  also  a  partaker  of  the  glory 
that  shall  be  revealed."  1  Pet.  v.  1.  St. 
Paul  answers  in  the  same  heroic  strain  :  "  I 
know  in  whom  I  have  believed ;  and  am 
persuaded,  that  neither  life,  nor  death,  nor 
any  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  me 
from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  my  Lord."  Rom.  viii.  39.  With 
both  which,  the  confession  of  faith  recorded 
by  St.  Luke  is  exactly  correspondent : 
"  We  believe,  that,  through  the  grace  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  we  shall  be  saved 
even  as  they."  Acts  xv.  11. 

Ther.  Was  not  this  a  privilege  peculiar 
to  the  apostles  ? 

Asp.  By  no  means.  All  believers  are 
brethren,  and  have  "like  precious  faith." 
Hear  how  St.  Peter  exhorts  all  his  people  : 
"  Gird  up  the  loins  of  your  mind,  and  hope 
to  the  end ;"  or,  as  the  word  should  rather 
be  translated,  "  hope  perfectly,  hope  as- 
.suredly,  for  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought 
unto  you  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus 
Christ."*  1  Peter  i.  13.  Maintain  not 
a  dim,  but  a  bright  hope ;  not  a  waver- 
ing, but  a  steady  expectation  of  eternal 
life  ;  that  free  but  grand  gift,  of  which  the 
Lord  Jesus,  at  his  second  coming,  shall 
put  you  in  full  possession.  The  apostle, 
writing  to  his  Hebrew  converts,  encourages 
them  all  to  "  hold/ast  the  confidence,  and 
the  rejoicing  of  hope,  firm  unto  the  end.-' 
Heb.  iii.  6.  From  whence  it  is  deducible, 
that  a  trust,  amounting  to  confidence,  and 
the  joy  which  naturally  results  from  such 
a  trust,  were  the  common  portion  of 
Christians  ;  possessed  not  barely  by  some 
i^^  exalted  saints,  but  by  the  followers  of 
Jesus  in  general.  I  might  bring  many  more 
instances.  But  why  should  I  multiply 
proofs,  since  the  beloved  disciple  declares, 
"  These  things  have  I  written  unto  you  that 
believe  on  the  name  of  the  Son  of  God, 
that  you  may  know  that  ye  have  eternal 
life." 

Tlicr.  True,  Aspasio.  This  coincides 
with   my  apprehensions.     The   scriptiu-es 


Ec  TiXo;  m  fii^pi  riXHi,  signify  "to  the 
riid."  But  Tikii'^if,  n;,  far  as  I  can  recollect,  isnever 
used  in  this  sense,  ei :  l-.t  r  by  sacred  or  profane  writers. 
It  may  be  rendered  r-'-Jcutu,  inttf;re,  in  this  con- 
nexion, i-um  firmajiiln'i'i,  with  a  lirm  alliance. 


are  WTitten,  first,  that  we  may  believe,  and 
be  entitled  to  eternal  life ;  next,  that  we 
may  have  the  knowledge  of  our  belief,  and 
a  consciousness  of  our  title.  The  ajxtstle 
supposes  his  correspondents  to  possess  the 
former,  yet  not  to  have  attained  the  latter. 
Asp.  Is  it  certain  that  he  makes  such  a 
supposition  ?  He  writes,  I  imagine,  not 
with  a  view  of  leading  them  to  either,  but 
of  confirming  them  in  both.  He  intimates 
that  the  privilege-  and  the  comfort  should 
go  together.  If  we  believe  that  Christ  is 
our  Surety,  we  should  be  persuaded  that  he 
has  paid  our  debt,  and  satisfied  jtistice  to  the 
very  uttermost  farthing  ;  if  we  believe  that 
Christ  is  our  bridegroom,  we  should  rest  as- 
sured, that  his  righteousness,  his  inheritance, 
and  bis  kingdom  are  ours.  And  why  shoidd 
we  take  pains  to  separate,  what  God's  word 
and  the  very  nature  of  things  have  united  ? 
Will  this  timi  to  our  advantage  ?  must  it 
not  issue  in  our  loss  ?  Besides,  according  to 
your  own  interpretation,  whoever  falls  short 
of  this  cheering  knowledge,  falls  short  of 
one  great  end  for  which  the  Scriptures  were 
written.  He  receives  not  his  full  reward : 
He  only  gleans  where  he  might  reap ;  is 
tossed  on  the  ocean  of  uncertainty  -.  WTbere- 
as  they  that  have  believed,  have  gained  the 
port,  have  dropped  their  anchor,  and  enter 
into  rest.    Heb.  iv.  3. 

Tlier.  Believed !  WTiat  ?  that  our  sins 
are  laid  upon  Christ?  that  he  was  obedient 
in  our  stead  ?  that  all  spiritual  blessings  are 
thereby  procured  for  our — even  for  our  en- 
joyment ? 

Asp.  The  blessings  you  mention  are  evi- 
dentlythepurportof  thegospel.  And  I  know 
of  no  other  justifying  faith  but  that  which 
relates  to  the  gospel,  and  believes  its  report. 
Isa.  liii.  1.  Nor  can  I  think  that  any  other 
belief  will  administer  the  tranquillity,  or  pro- 
duce the  rest  specified  by  the  apostle.  But 
here,  I  find,  lies  the  core  and  root  of  our 
controversy.  This  is  the  precise  point  to 
be  settled,  Wliat  it  is  to  believe  ?  What  is 
included  in  this  very  important  word  ?  This 
question  might  renew  oiu"  dispute,  and  cause 
the  past  arguments  to  recur :  whereas,  I  would 
gladly  get'rid  of  disputation.  We  have  already 
been  too  long  detained  in  these  disagreeable 
paths.  However,  since  you  have  given  the 
occasion,  I  may  just  touch  upon  another  text 
or  two :  For  I  would  willingly  drive  this 
nail  to  the  head ;  and  not  leave  my  friend 
unconvinced  on  a  subject  of  the  utmost  con- 
sequence. 

The  Lord  declares  by  his  prophet,  "  I,  even 
I,  am  he  that  blotteth  out  thy  transgres- 
sions." To  believe,  is  to  subscribe  this  de- 
claration ;  to  subscribe  with  our  hand,  and 
profess  from  our  heart,  "  Lord  it  is  done  as 
thou  hast  said."  Faith  is.  if  I  may  so  speak, 
th(!  echo  of  the  divine  voice.  It  eagerly 
catches,  aiid  punctually  rcvtiherates  the  joy.. 


DIALOGUE   XVI. 


439 


ful  sound-  Does  God  say,  "  Thou  art  my 
people?"  Faith  replies,  "  Tliouart  my  God," 
Ilos.  ii.  23 ;  not  barely  desiring,  but  confi- 
dently averring  an  interest  in  his  favour. 
This  explanation  of  faith  is  given  us  by  a 
wisdom  which  cannot  be  deceived,  by  a 
iidelity  which  cannot  deceive — Once  more 
our  Ijord  bears  this  testimony  concerning 
Thomas,  "  Thomas,  thou  hast  believed." 
Now  then,  I  think  we  have  ,got  an  infallible 
touchstone.  Let  us  examiiie  what  that  is 
which  Jesus  Christ  calls  believing.  What- 
ever it  be,  it  is  the  determination  of  truth 
itself,  and  should  pass  for  a  verdict,  from 
which  there  lies  no  appeal.  And  this,  this 
is  the  confession  of  Thomas,  "  My  Lord 
and  my  God."  John  xx.  28,  29.  This,  this 
expresses  what  our  divine  Master  calls  be- 
lieving. When,  therefore,  we  confess  with 
our  lips,  and  are  persuaded  in  our  hearts, 
that  "  Jesus  is  our  Lord,  who  bought  us 
with  his  blood  ;  that  "  Jesus  is  our  God," 
■who  will  exert  all  his  adorable  perfections 
for  our  good  ;  then  we  truly  believe  :  We 
believe  in  our  Saviour's  sense  of  the  word, 
we  have  that  faith  which  he  allows  to  be 
genuine. 

Titer.  Is  this  the  constant  language  of 
faith?  According  to  this  account,  there  is 
no  difference  between  the  infant  and  the 
adult ;  between  the  new-born  babe  and  the 
full  grown  man  in  Christ.  Your  spiritual 
<'hildren,  Aspasio,  must  be  men  from  their 
birth  ;  nay,  born  in  all  the  vigour  of  man- 
hood. Whereas,  the  apostle  makes  an  evi- 
dent difference  between  the  babes,  the  young 
men,  and  the  fathers  ;  between  faith — the 
assurance  of  faith — and  the  fidl  assurance  of 
faith.  If  we  are  told  of  a  patriarch,  who 
was  "  strong  in  faith  ;"  we  read  of  some 
Roman  converts,  who  were  "  weak  in  the 
I'aith  ;"  and  we  hear  our  Lord  speaking  to 
disciples  who  were  "  fearful  and  of  little 
faith." 

Asp.  Between  faith,  and  the  full  assur- 
ance of  faith,  the  apostle  makes  a  difference. 
The  one  is  the  most  exalted  pitch,  where 
the  other  is  but  an  inferior  elevation.  Yet 
both  are  rounds  of  the  same  ladder.  I  do  not 
remember,  that  the  sacred  writer  anywhere 
distinguishes  between  faith  and  assurance- 
n<ri5  and  XliTroi^f/.tn,  faith  and  covfulnicc,  are 
joined  in  tlic  ejjistle  to  the  Ephcsians.  It 
is  the  oi)iiiion  of  the  best  critics,  that  the 
sense  of  the  latter  is  included  in  the  former. 
The  critics'  ()j)iiiion  is  confirmed  by  the 
a])ostle's  declaration,  "  We  have  access  with 
confidence  through  faith."  Ejih.  iii.  12. 
Could  yonder  sun  diffuse  warmth  through 
the  air,  if  it  had  no  warmth  in  itself?  No 
more  could  faith  produce  confidence  in  the 
believer,  if  in  its  own  nature  it  did  not  con- 
tain the  same. 

The  case  of  little  faith,  I  think,  may  be 
explained  from  our  Lord's  own  expostula- 


tion :  "  O  thou  of  little  faitli,  wherefore 
didst  thou  doubt  ?"  Here  was  a  faith,  not 
only  in  Christ's  power,  but  also  in  his  will. 
Nay,  here  was  an  appropriating  faith,  by 
which  the  apostle  applied  both  to  himself : 
"  I  verily'believe,  that  my  divine  Master  is 
able  to  preserve  me,  even  though  I  venture 
to  tread  upon  this  tempestuous  sea.  I  am 
persuaded  likewise,  that  he  will  uj)hold  me, 
and  not  suflxT  his  servant  to  perish  in  the 
hazardous  enterprise."  Nothing  less  than 
this  could  have  produced  that  hazardous  en- 
terprise, or  have  emboldened  him  to  walk 
upon  the  rolling  billows. 

Do  you  not  discern,  in  this  instance,  some 
degree  of  personal  apjilication,  some  real 
assurance  of  faith  ?  It  is  true,  this  faith  was 
violently  assaulted  by  doubts,  and  gi-eatly  en- 
feebled by  fears.*  Yet  still  it  was  of  the 
applicatory  kind.  "  He  can,  he  will,"  were 
expressive  of  its  nature;  though  the  bois- 
terous  winds,  and  the  terrifying  appearance 
of  things,  almost  drowned  its  voice,  or 
stifled  the  words  in  their  utterance. 

Ther.  If  you  allow  no  difference  between 
faith  and  confidence,  I  am  very  sure  St. 
John  puts  a  diflference  between  babes,  young 
men,  and  fathers. 

Asp.  He  does,  Theron  ;  and  so  would 
I.  Neither  can  I  think  of  any  thing  more 
proper  to  explain  my  meaning,  or  estiiblish 
my  tenet,  than  your  own  comparison.  In 
some  fruitful  family,  you  may  see  one  child 
in  leading-strings ;  another  able  to  walk  by 
itself;  a  third  come  home,  improved  and 
cultivated,  from  the  school  of  literature. 
Observe  their  speech.  One  lisps  out  a  few 
broken  sentences  ;  another  talks  intelligibly, 
but  very  incorrectly  ;  the  last  h.is  learned  to 
express  himself  with  tolerable  propriety. 
Yet  each  speaks  the  same  language,  not- 
withstanding the  various  degrees  of  fluency 
in  their  utterance,  or  purity  in  their  diction. 
—  So  faith  always  speaks  one  and  the  same 
uniform  language.  Whether  she  lisps  or 
stammers  ;  whether  she  whispers  in  faint 
accents,  or  raises  her  voice  in  a  more  manly 
tone ;  this  is  still  the  unvaried  import  of 
her  speech :  "  God,  even  our  own  God, 
will  give  us  his  blessing."  Can  you  forget, 
how  St.  John  addresses  even  his  little 
children  ?  "I  write  unto  you,  little  chil- 
dren, because  yoiu-  sins  are  forgiven."  1  John 
ii.  12. 

Ther.   Will  not  this  account  discourage 


*  I  must  bCR  of  the  ciiidiil  rcadnr  to  take  particu- 
lar notice  of  ttiis  limitation ;  and  must  entreat  the 
imi>.ivti.il  examiner,  not  to  foffjct  this  concession.  We 
nowhere  suppost',  that  a  freedom  from  all  fears,  or 
a  sii|>eriiirily  to  all  doubts,  are  included  in  the  nature 
of  fuilh.  We  only  alHrm,  that  an  approjiriating  per- 
suasion or  assurance  are  necessary  to  the  being  of 
faith.  This.assuraiicemaybe encumbered  with  doubts, 
and  may  conflict  with  fears.  But  still  it  is  assurance 
— real  assurance — and  proves  itself  to  be  such,  by  op- 
posing and  struggling  with  the  coutrary  principle. 


440 


tiiehon  and  asvasio. 


some,  and  ofTend  others,  wlio   are  not  ar- 
rived at  such  an  ex^ilted  pitch  ? 

Asp.  I  would  not  offend  the  meanest,  nor 
discourage  the  weakest  of  my  Redeemer's 
servants.  As  for  offence,  that  cannot  be 
given,  and  ought  not  to  be  taken,  when  all 
we  advance  is  strictly  conformable  to  the 
unerring  oracles.  Whereas,  to  qualify  and 
attenuate  the  scriptural  descriptions  of  faith, 
in  complaisance  to  our  own  experience  ;  to 
make  tlio  unhappy  fluctuations  and  unwor- 
thy suspicions,  which  possess  the  breasts  of 
some  particular  Christians — to  make  them 
the  rule  of  explaining,  or  the  measure  of 
enforcing  so  capital  a  duty  ;  this,  sure,  would 
be  an  offence  to  God,  an  injury  to  his  word, 
and  detrimental  to  the  welfare  of  souls. 

With  regard  to  discouragement,  I  cannot 
conceive  how  this  should  ensue,  from  in- 
forming the  poor  sinner  that  he  has  a  right 
to  apply  Christ,  and  all  Christ's  merits,  to 
himself ;  or  from  exhorting  the  poor  sinner 
to  do  this,  without  any  hesitation,  and  with 
n  resolute  dependence.  In  this  case,  to 
doubt  is  to  be  discouraged  :  as  much  as  yoU 
■want  certainty,  so  much  you  want  consola- 
tion. The  proper  way  to  comfort  these 
distressed  i)eople  is,  not  to  allow,  but  to 
dissipate  their  doubts  ;  to  blqw  away  those 
dead  ashes,  that  the  smothered  embers  may 
shine  and  glow. 

Were  we  to  inquire  after  the  cause  of 
that  disquietude  and  despondency  which 
are  so  common  among  modern  professors,  I 
am  inclined  to  suspect  we  should  find  it  ly- 
ing hid  in  their  wrong  apprehensions,  both 
of  Christ  and  of  faith.  They  look  upon 
Christ,  as  a  rigorous  and  forijidding  mo- 
narch, who  insists  upon  some  hard  terms 
and  high  qualifications.  Whereas,  his  heart 
and  his  ai  ins  are  ever  open  ;  his  heart  as 
open,  as  infinite  love  can  set  it ;  his  arms 
as  open,  as  infinite  merit  can  make  them. 
They  look  upon  faith  as  containing  a  possi- 
bility only,  or,  at  most,  a  ])n)bability,  of  sal- 
vation through  his  name-  It  is  viith  them 
a  kind  of])eradventurc  ;  a  situation  of  mind, 
fluctuating  and  jjendiilous.  "  Perhai)s  I 
may  succeed,  and  be  eternally  blessed  :  Per- 
haps I  may  be  rejected  and  eternally  ruin- 
ed." Such  a  state  of  suspense,  in  an  affair 
of  everlasting  consequence,  cannot  but  create 
uneasiness  and  anxiety. 

This  uneasiness  and  anxiety  seem  to 
liave  been  little  known  in  the  earlier  and 
better  days  of  the  church.  And  why?  Be- 
cause Christians  were  then  exposed  to  the 
rage  of  persecution  ?  Because  they  were 
placed  nearer  the  time  of  Christ's  sojourn- 
ing on  earth  !  I  rather  think,  because  they 
were  taught  this  particular  and  comfortable 
application  of  Christ  and  his  righteousness. 
"They  exercised  a  confident  affiance  on  Je- 
sus, as  their  own  Redeemer ;  and  were 
shown  a  more  direct  way  to  obtain   this  as- 


surance, than  merely  to  search  after  their 
own  renewed  qualities. 

T/'icr.  Surely,  Aspasio,  in  this  particular 
you  differ,  not  from  me  only,  but  from  the 
generality  of  the  orthodox. 

Asj).  I  am  sorry  to  find  myself  under  a 
necessity  of  differing  from  any  worthy  per- 
sons, much  more  of  disagreeing  with  the 
generality.  This  I  can  safely  aver,  that  it 
is  not  from  any  affectation  of  novelty,  or 
any  fondness  lor  disputing,  but  from  a  dis- 
interested regard  to  the  truth  of  the  gospel. 
I  should  be  glad  to  have  the  concurrence  of 
all  the  serious,  and  all  the  pious  ;  but  I 
dare  not  purchase  their  approbation,  I  dare 
not  attempt  a  coalition  of  sentiments,  by 
diminishing  the  boimdless  riches  of  grace, 
or  restricting  the  absolute  freeness  of  salva- 
tion by  Christ. 

You  are  pleased  to  remind  me  of  the  or- 
thodox. Pray,  my  dear  friend,  what  is  the 
standard  of  orthodoxy?  Is  it  the  word  of 
revelation  ?  This  speaks  once,  yea  twice, 
nay,  some  hundreds  of  times,  in  our  favour. 
Is  it  the  doctrine  of  our  reformers  fiom 
Popery  ?  With  these  we  jar  not,  but  exactly 
harmonize.  Is  it  to  be  taken  from  the  old 
confessions  of  faith,  and  the  catechisms  of 
Protestant  churches  ?  To  these  we  appeal, 
and  have  the  sanction  of  their  authority- 
Has  the  modern  way  of  treating  and  stating 
this  momentous  subject  so  much  to  allege 
for  its  support  ? 

Let  me  farther  ask, — Are  w^e  better  than 
our  fathers  ?  Is  Christianity  in  a  thriving 
condition,  or  practical  religion  on  the  ad- 
vancing hand  ?  The  reverse,  the  melancholy 
reverse,  is  undeniably  true.  When  our 
writers  enforced,  and  our  preachers  urged 
what  I  am  defending,  professors  were  abve, 
and  animated  with  the  power  of  godliness  : 
Whereas  now  we  seem  to  be  degenerated 
into  the  mere  form  ;  we  "  have  a  name  to 
live,  but  are"  languid,  listless,  and  if  not 
"  dead,"  Rev.  iii.  1,  yet  ready  to  die.  It 
behoves  us  therefore  to  consider  whether 
the  declension,  the  decays,  the  rnifruitful- 
ness,  so  justly  lamented  in  the  present  age, 
be  not  owing  to  the  absence  of  this  appro- 
priating belief,  or  this  assured  persuasion. 

A  sweet  assurance  of  pardon,  a  comfort- 
able persuasion  of  our  reconciliation  with 
God,  an  established  hope  of  eternal  glory 
through  Jesus  Christ  ;  these  will  be  0])era- 
tive  in  the  soul,  as  "  a  torch  in  the  sheaf." 
These  will  enkindle  love,  and  increase 
watchfulness ;  these  will  beget  the  true  hu- 
mility of  mind,  and  work  an  unfeigned  ab- 
horrence of  sin  ;  these  will  enlarge  the  heart 
with  charity,  and  exalt  the  affections  above 
the  world.  These  are  the  proper,  and  the 
only  effectual  means  of  "  making  the  man 
of  God  perfect,"  that  is,  "  thoroughly  fur- 
nished to  every  good  work."* 

*  For  the  display  and  confirmation  of  these  points. 


DIALOGUE  XVI. 


441 


But  the  doubting  frame  is  not  fitted  to 
yield  any  of  these  fruits.  Nay,  I  am  appre- 
hensive there  are  several  graces  wliicli  can 
hardly  be  exercised,  sevei'al  duties  wliich  can 
scarcely  be  performed,  so  long  as  this  spirit 
of  diffidence  prevails. 

Thcr.  Name  them,  Aspasio. 

Asp.  I  am  afraid,  lest  I  should  seem  to 
arrogate  the  office  of  a  teacher ;  which 
neither  becomes  my  condition,  nor  is  agree- 
able to  my  temper. 

TTier.  I  beseech  you,  my  dear  friend,  let 
us  wave  ceremony,  and  have  nothing  to  do 
with  compliments.  My  soul  is  in  jeopardy. 
My  present  comfort,  and  my  everlasting  hap- 
piness are  at  stake.  And  shall  we  suffer  any 
little  punctilios  to  overbear  such  weighty 
considerations  ? 

Suppose  you  arc  a  teacher  ;  I  have  great 
need,  and  am  very  desirous  to  become  your 
scholar.  For  I  freely  confess,  that,  know- 
ing as  I  may  seem  in  other  instances,  I  am 
very  ignorant  in  the  great  peculiarities  of 
the  gospel.  Nay,  though  I  have  read  the 
scriptures  in  a  critical  view,  I  have  been  an 
utter  stranger  to  their  spiritual  meaning. 
Here  I  am'  uninstructed  as  a  babe.  Here, 
therefore,  I  ought  to  be  teachable  as  a 
babe.  Yes,  in  this  respect  I  would  be- 
come as  a  little  child,  that  I  may  enter  into 
the  knowledge,  and  possess  the  privileges  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Asp-  Your  answer,  Theron,  shall  be  a 
law.  "  Love  to  God,"  is  the  first  command- 
ment ;  and,  without  all  peradventure,  is  the 
principal  grace.  But  is  it  easy,  is  it  pos- 
sible, to  love  God,  before  we  have  any  per- 
suasion of  his  love  to  us  ?  This  is  what  the 
apostles  did  not,  could  not  do.  And,  if  it 
exceeded  their  ability,  it  will  doubtless  be 
above  the  reach  of  our  capacity.  The  thing 
may  be  attempted ;  the  practice  may  be 
urged  ;  we  may  see  the  necessity  of  it,  and 
desire  to  perform  it ;  but  we  shall  never, 


I  do,  with  great  pleasure,  and  without  any  diffidence, 
nfcr  to  Mr.  Marshall's  "  Gospel  Mystery  of  Sanctifi- 
cation  ;"  wliirh  I  shall  not  recommend  in  the  style 
of  a  critic,  or  lil-.e  a  reader  of  taste,  but  with  all  the 
simplicity  of  the  weakest  Christian;  I  mean  from  my 
own  experience.  It  has  been  made  one  of  the  most 
useful  books  to  my  own  soul :  I  scarce  ever  fail  to  re- 
reive  spiritual  consolation  and  strength  from  theper- 
usal  of  it.  And  was  I  to  be  banished  into  some  deso- 
l.itc  island,  possessed  only  of  two  books  besides  my 
liiblc,  this  should  be  one  of  the  two,  and  perhaps  the 
first  that  I  would  choose. 

Should  any  person,  hitherto  a  stranger  to  the  work, 
purijhase  it  on  this  rcconimcndation,  I  must  desire  to 
suggest  one  caution:  That  he  be  not  surprised,  if,  in 
the  beginning  he  meets  with  something  new,  and 
(|uili- out  of  tlie  cimunou  mail ;  or,  if  suriiriseil,  that 
he  would  not  hv  (ilV.ndcd,  Ijut  caliiilv  ami  attciilivcly 
jirotc'i'd.  Me  will  find  the  author's  ilrsign  opening 
Itself  by  (legroes  :  He  will  discern  more  and  more  the 
projiriety  of  his  method;  and  what  might,  at  the 
first  view,  appear  like  a  stumbling-block, 'will  prove 
to  be  a  fair,  conipemlious,  and  amiile  avenue — to  the 
iialaceof  truth— to  llicteni])l<(>f  holiues;— and  to  the 
bowers  of  happiness.— (liir  aulhor'sparticular  lecom- 
mcndation  of  tli's  invaUiablc  liook,  in  .a  jirrficc  to  an 
edition  printed  of  it  in  London,  is  insetted  in  the  5th 
YoluiMC  of  the  works. 


never  be  able  to  exercise  it,  till,  we  have 
some  comfortable  apprehension  of  God's  re- 
conciliation and  good-will  to  us.  "  We  love 
Him."  Wherefore?  from  what  indticement? 
"  Because  he  first  loved  us,"  1  .Tohn  iv.  10, 
and  because  this  love  hath  been  made  evi- 
dent to  our  consciences  by  the  light  of 
faith. 

What  think  you  of  "  delight  in  God  ?" 
This  also  is  a  Christian  grace.  But  "  how 
can  two  walk  together,  except  they  be  agreed?  " 
We  never  covet  an  intimacy  with  the  per- 
son who  declares  himself  our  enemy.  Na}', 
if  there  be  only  a  suspicion  that  he  bears  iis 
a  secret  ill-will,  we  .shall  be  jealous  of  ti'iist- 
ing  him,  and  averse  to  approach  him.  This 
was  the  case  of  our  first  i)arents  immediate- 
ly after  the  fall.  Instead  of  drawing  near 
to  their  Creator  with  pleasure  and  gratitude, 
they  fled  from  him  with  anxiety  iuid  terror. 
And  why?  Because  they  were  mider  the 
alarming  apprehensions  of  his  displeasure. 
Whereas,  let  us  once  l)elieve  what  the  ajios- 
tle  affirms,  "  When  we  were  enemies,  we 
were  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of  his 
Son."  Rom.  v.  10.  Let  us  cordially  credit 
what  the  prophet  repeatedly  declares,"  There- 
fore will  the  Lord  wait  that  he  may  be  gra- 
cious unto  you ;  and  therefore  will  he  be 
exalted,  that  he  may  have  mercy  upon  you." 
Isa.  XXX.  18.  Then  we  shall  seek  his  face 
with  alacrity.  Our  affections  will  be  on 
the  wing  to  salute  their  Almighty  Benefac- 
tor. We  shall  "joy  in  God  ihroiijjli  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Titer.  To  the  enjoyment  of  so  many  s]>i- 
I'itual  consolations,  and  the  exercise  of  seve- 
ral delightful  graces,  I  acknowledge,  iui  as- 
sured faith  is  necessary ;  but — 

Asp.  Ay,  Theron,  you  may  well  hesitate- 
It'will  be  difficidt  to  fill  up  the  chasm  in  your 
discourse.  For  my  part,  I  know  not  any 
duty  of  holiness,  which  can  be  performed 
aright,  without  some  degree  of  this  confid- 
ing faith.  We  are  to  "  walk  wortliy  of  Him 
who  hath  called  us  to  his  kingdom  and  glory." 
I  Thess.  ii.  12.  But  if  we  doubt  whether 
we  in  particular  are  called,  how  can  this  in- 
fluence our  conversation  ?  We  are  to  be  "  fol- 
lowers of  God,  as  his  dear  children."  Ejdi. 
v.  \.  But  if  we  do  not,  caruiot,  will  not  be- 
lieve, so  as  to  cry  "  Abba,  Father,"  how  can 
such  a  consideration  sway  our  hearts  ?  Nay, 
upon  what  principles  can  such  a  person  ad- 
dress himself  to  discharge  any  office  of  the 
Christian  life  ?  We  are  to  "  abotuid  in  the 
works  of  the  Lord,"  from  the  animating 
pres])ect  of  a  glorious  restu'rectioii.  1  Cor. 
XV.  oH.  This  he  cannot  do ;  because  he 
apprehends  himself  to  luivc  no  lot  or  por- 
tion in  the  blessed  hope.  We  arc  to  open 
otir  hands  in  charity  to  others,  from  a  view 
of  that  heavenly  kingdom  which  \\as  j'-re- 
parcd  for  us  from  the  foundation  of  the 
woild.  Jilutth.  \x\.  31.      Wc  are  to  tltansc 


442 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


ouiselves'from  all  filtliinesss  of  flesh  and 
spirit,  on  account  of  those  precious  pro- 
mises which  are  freely  given  to  us  in  Christ 
Jesus.  2  Cor.  vii-  1.  But  where  unbeliev- 
ing doubts  predominate,  these  endearing  and 
invigorating  motives  are  lost.  The  man 
has  no  interest  in  the  encouraging  promises, 
has  no  title  to  the  blissful  inheritance  ;  con- 
sequently, these  sinews  of  evangelical  obe- 
dience, with  respect  to  him,  are  benumbed, 
withered,  dead. 

Tlier.  Such  a  man  may  make  prayers  and 
supplications.  Though  he  cannot  rejoice 
in  the  privileges,  he  may  request  them  at 
the  throne  of  grace. 

Asp.  Prayer  is  a  great  duty,  and  as  great 
a  privilege.  I  wish,  my  dear  Theron,  the 
spirit  of  grace  and  sujiplication.  This  will 
be  better,  incomparably  better,  and  more 
advantageous,  than  a  key  to  hidden  trea- 
sures. But  how  can  you  pray  with  luim- 
ble  boldness,  or  with  lively  hope,  unless  you 
believe  ?  believe  that  Christ  is  your  Fligh- 
Priest — is  your  Intercessor  with  the  Fa- 
ther, and,  with  the  incense  of  his  infinite 
merit,  presents  your  petitions  ?  Then,  and 
then  only,  can  you  have  what  the  apostle 
calls  "bohlnoss  and  access  with  confidence."* 
Take  notice  of  these  vigorous  expressions, 
and  at  your  leisure  consider  whether  they 
countenance  the  suspicious  and  misgiving 
temper.  At  present  observe  how  yonder 
lark  warbles  and  mounts  in  the  firmament, 
as  if  she  was  bidding  adieu  to  the  earth, 
and  going  to  mingle  with  the  skies  !     An 

image   this  of  believing  prayer Should  a 

fowler  shoot  the  soaring  songster  through 
the  wing,  how  would  she  fall  from  her  ele- 
vation, and  flutter  on  the  ground  !  An  em- 
blem that  of  distrusting  prayer. 

I  know  not  how  to  leave  this  subject, 
without  attending  to  the  testimony  of  St. 
James,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more 
awful,  or  more  decisive.  It  should  really 
alarm  the  doubting  disposition  as  much  as 
any  solicitation  to  the  most  horrid  sin.  It 
should  alarm  the  whole  religious  world,  as 
nuich  as  the  beacons  suddenly  kindled,  and 
all  on  a  flame,  would  alarm  the  inhabitants 
of  the  maritime  coasts.  "  Let  him  pray  in 
I'aith,  nothing  doubting  ;-|"!for  he  that  doubt- 

»  Eph.  iii.  12.  Tlpirraytuyt!.,  "access  with  a 
cheering  and  graceful  assurance,"  such  as  those  peti- 
tioners enjoy  who  are  introduced  into  the  royal  pre- 
sence by  some  distinguished  favourite,  i-ia^^nffia,, 
"a  Ixildness  or  unrestrained  liberty  of  speech  ;"  such 
as  children  use,  when  they  present  their  addresses, 
and  make  known  their  requests  to  an  indulgent  fa- 
ther.— Ev  •ri'roi6r,(ni,  "with  a  well  grounded  and 
steady  confidence,"  that  we  shall  both  obtain  a  fa- 
vourable acceptance,  and  a  gracious  answer. — And  all 
this,  "through  the  faith  of  Christ;"  through  the 
worthiness  of  his  person,  and  the  prevalence  of  his  in- 
tercession. 

t  Jam.  i.  6.  "  Nothing  doubting,"  is  the  apostle's 
explanation  of  faith.  MjjSev  'iitK^ivofJi.uos  is,  in  our 
translation,  "  nothing  wavering."  But  the  very 
eame  expression  is  reiulcicd,  Actsx.  ?(.>,  "Notliing 


eth  is  like  a  wave  of  the  sea,  driven  by  the 
wind,  and  tossed."  James  1.  6.  Nay,  the 
apostle  adds, — and  it  is  an  addition  greatly  to 
be  regarded ;  it  should  abide  mth  weight  on 
our  consciences ;  for  it  comes  from  a  casuist, 
who  could  neithei  be  too  indulgent,  through 
an  excess  of  compassion,  nor  too  rigorous, 
through  an  extravagance  of  zeal, — "  Let  not 
that  man,"  the  doubting  supplicant,  "  think 
that  he  shall  receive  any  thing  of  the  Lord." 
Never  then,  my  worthy  friend,  never 
more  be  an  advocate  for  doubtings.  Pur- 
sue them  with  fire  and  sword.  Give  them 
no  quarter.  Deal  with  them  as  Saul  was 
commanded  to  treat  the  Amalekites. 

Titer.  If  we  are  grieved  at  the  remem- 
brance of  past  sin,  and  feel  an  aversion  to 
all  sin;  if  the  j)revailing  bias  of  our  affec- 
tions be  to  the  divine  Redeemer,  and  the 
habitual  breathing  of  our  souls  after  a  con- 
formity  to  his  image  ;  may  we  not  suppose 
ourselves  possessed  of  the  truth  and  reality, 
though  we  have  not  the  confidence  and  re- 
joicing of  faith  ?  I  say  we,  because  I  aji 
prehend  this  is  not  my  peculiar  case,  but 
common  to  myself  and  many  other  Christ- 
ians of  the  weaker  sort  I  ask,  therefore, 
in  their  name  and  in  my  own,  may  we  not 
humbly  suppose  our  condition  safe,  though 
we  do  not  presume  to  use  the  language  of 
the  spouse,  "  My  beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am 
his?" 

Asp.  So  you  are  still  inclined  to  spare 
Agag,  because  delicately  and  sjieciously  dis- 
guised under  the  appearance  of  tenderness 
to  weak  souls.  I  should  have  thought  the 
text  from  St.  James  must  have  done  exe- 
cution, like  the  prophet  Samuel's  sword  ; 
but  since  corrosives  succeed  not,  let  us 
make  trial  of  lenitives. 

When  the  great  Jehovah  is  pleased  to 
say  "  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God,"  then,  upon 
this  authentic  warrant,  to  use  the  language 
of  the  spouse  is  neither  more  nor  less  than 
to  declare,  "  I  am  persuaded  that  Christ 
is  faithful  and  true,  that  he  speaks  what  he 
thinks,  and  will  do  what  he  says."  Where- 
as, to  deny  this  by  downright  imbelief,  or 
to  question  this,  by  living  in  suspense,  is 
not  humble  duty,  but  proud  disobedience. 
Might  not  the  Lord  Jesus  justly  complain, 
"  What  iniquity  have  sinners  found  in  me  ?" 
what  unkindness,  or  what  unfaithfidness, 
that  they  are  so  much  afraid  of  confiding  in 
my  grace,  and  of  believing  my  word  ? 

You  ask,  Whether  the  state  of  these  per- 
sons is  safe,  and  their  faith  real  ?  I  answer, 
why  should  not  their  state  be  happy,  and 
their  faith  assured  ?     Why  should  you,  or 


doubting."  The  sense  is,  either  way,  alike;  Though 
I  think,  "  nothing  wavering"  corresponds  too  nearly 
with  the  comparison,  "  like  a  wave,"  makes  some- 
thing ofa  disagreeable  jingle;  and  flattens  theforce, 
or  supersedes  the  necessity,  of  the  following  lUu^ 
tratioa. 


tlicy,  or  any  one,  plead  the  r.iiise  of  unbe 
lief,  and  veil  it  with  the  plausible  pretext  of 
humility  ?  Let  these  persons  know,  what- 
ever their  names  or  their  circumstances  are, 
that  they  have  as  good  a  right  to  adopt  the 
w(jr(ls  of  the  spouse,  as  we  have  to  walk  in 
these  gardens,  and  enjoy  their  refined  de- 
lights. Yet  they  will  do  well  to  remember, 
that  those  qualifications,  however  amiable, 
are  by  no  means  the  ground  of  their  right. 
They  are  to  advance  their  claim,  and  hold 
fast  the  blessing,  not  as  men  ornamented 
with  fine  endowments,  but  as  poor,  indigent, 
guilty  siimers.  For  such  the  Saviour  is 
provided  ;  to  such  his  benefits  aie  proi)osed, 
and  on  such  his  grace  will  be  magnified. 

Ther.  Do  you  elude  my  question,  or  give 
up  your  point  ?  One  or  the  other  my  As- 
]i:isio  certainly  does. 

Asp.  Since  my  friend  so  peremptorily 
aillrnis,  I  will  not  have  the  ill  maimers  to 
ileny.  I  will  own  the  former  charge ;  the 
latter  I  cannot  admit.  I  will  own,  that  at 
present  I  had  much  rather  act  as  a  comfort- 
er, than  as  a  disputant.  On  some  other 
occasion  I  will  undertake  to  con.sider,  and 
endeavour  to  answer  all  your  objections.  In 
the  mean  time,  I  am  far  from  giving  up  the 
noint,  barely  by  inquiring,  why  such  [)ersons 
should  lose  their  time,  and  perhaps  embar- 
rass their  minds,  in  these  less  profitable  sup- 
positions, when  there  is  a  direct,  a  com- 
jjcndious,  and  a  certain  method  of  obtaining 
]ieace,  by  appropriating  Christ  and  his  me- 
rits, without  recurring  to  any  such  qualifica- 
tions ? 

Nevertheless,  if  you  insist  upon  a  positive 
reply,  I  am  obliged  to  declare,  that  faith 
consists  in  none  of  those  qualifications  which 
you  describe.  The  language  of  faith  is  not 
—  '  1  feel  such  an  aversion  ;  I  am  actuated 
with  such  a  bias ;  or  I  breathe  sucll  a  de- 
sii-e  :"  But — "  God  has  freely  loved  me  ; 
Christ  has  graciously  died  for  me  ;  and  the 
Holy  Ghost  will  assuredly  sanctify  me  in 
ihe  belief,  the  appropriating  belief,  of  these 
precious  truths."* 

But  see,  Theron  !  Yonder  black  and  low- 
hung  cloud  points  this  way.  It  seems  big 
with  a  shower  J  it  marches  on  apace,  and 
will  soon  be  over  our  heads.  Wc  must  in- 
stantly fiy  to  shelter. 

Tlur.  It  is  well  we  have  this  summer- 
hou>e  for  our  shelter.  The  thickest  boughs 
would  be  insuiricient  to  screen  us.  I  think 
I  never  saw  a  more  im])etuous  burst  of  rain. 
A  shower !  No,  it  is  a  descending  deluge. 
The  large,  ropy,  reeking  drops  come  down 
like  a  torrent.  Surprising!  What  a  dread- 
ful Hash  was  there  !  A  sheet  of  sulphureous 
fire,  launched   from  the  (hsmal   gloom,  and 


DIALOGUE  XVI. 

wraj)ping  the  whole  skies  in  a  bhi^e  ! 


*43 

Not 


a  moments  interval  between  the  lightning's 
rage  and  the  thunder's  roar.  IJow  sudden 
and  vast  the  explosion  !  What  a  deep,  pro- 
longed, tremendous  peal  ensues  !  It  seems 
as  if  the  i)oles  of  earth  and  the  pillars  of 
nature  cracked  ! 

See,  my  dear  Aspasio,  see  the  direful 
havoc,  the  horrid  effects  of  this  elementary 
tumult.  Yonder  oak,  which  reared  its  tow- 
ering head  aloft,  and  spread  wide  its  grace- 
ful branches,  is,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
turned  into  a  naked  trunk.  There  it  stands, 
singed  and  tore;  stripped  of  its  verdant 
honours,*  and  surrounded  with  its  own  shat- 
tered fragments.  How  fearful  is  the  artil- 
lery of  heaven  ! 

As}}.  And  wliy — why  did  not  the  blow 
fall  on  this  guilty  breast?  AVhy  was  not  the 
fiery  bolt,  which  tlew  so  near,  commission- 
ed to  pierce  our  hearts  ?  If  our  heavenly 
Father  has  been  so  tenderly  ciireful  of  these 
perishing  bodies,  w'lW  he  not  be  much  more 
gracious  to  oiu"  immortal  souls?  Will  he 
not  clothe  them  with  that  immaculate  robe, 
nhich  is  the  oidy  security  from  the  stroke 
of  eternal  vengeance  ?  And  let  me  ask.  Can 
this  be  a  security  to  us,  unless  we  are  vest- 
ed with  it?  Could  this  building,  though  very 
substantial,  have  secured  us  from  the  rush- 
ing rains,  if  we  had  not  betaken  om-sclves 
to  its  friendly  covert  ? 

Christ  is  represented,  'in  the  prophecy  of 
Isaiah,  by  this  very  image  ;  as  "  a  place  of 
refuge,  and  as  a  covert  from  the  storm  and 
from  rain,"  Isa.  iv.  6.  That  is,  his  merits 
and  death  are  a  sure  protection  from  the  curse 
of  the  law,  and  the  damnation  of  hell.  No 
fury  of  the  elements  so  terrible  as  these ; 
no  bulwark  of  stone  so  impregnable  as  those. 
If  this  is  a  proper  emblem  of  Christ,  to 
what  shall  we  liken  faith  ?  To  a  persuasion, 
that  the  shelter  of  the  summer-house  is  free 
for  our  use  ?  To  a  high  esteem  of  its  ac- 
commodation, an  earnest  desire  after  its 
protection,  or  an  habitual  tendency  towards 
it?  Would  this  defend  us  from  the  incle- 
mencies of  the  weather?  Would  this  keep 
us  dry,  amidst  (what  yon  call)  the  descend- 
ing deluge  ?  Would  this  esteem,  desire,  or 
tendency,  uidess  carried  into  actual  entrance 
and  possession,  be  a  proper  safeguard,  or  in- 
deed any  manner  of  advantage  to  our  per- 
sons ? 

Ther.  No,  Aspasio;  neither  would  a  per- 
suasion that  the  sunnner-house  is  mine. 

Asp.  True  ;  but  a  belief  that  Christ  is 
mine,  is  like  entering  the  summer-house. 
When  the   divine  Fpirit  reveals  the   obe- 


•  If  the  reader  timls  this  Pialoguc  loo  long,  here 
he  will  have  a  con\'enicnt  ixxstin^j-piiac. 


•  Does  not  th:s  pive  iis  themost  awful  and  Rrand 
sense  of  Psalm  xxi\.  !i  ?  "  The  \<)ice  of  the  Lord  " 
when  uttered  in  ilmrider,  and  iiccompanied  with 
lightning,  not  only  "  discovereth  the  tliitk  luisli- 
0(5.  but  strips  the  forest;"  lays  baie  the  liranching 
woo<ls;  re<luc»  s  ilie  most  miRuificeiil  ;in<l  fiourishinij 
fcdars  to  jiuked  .i.'iu  withered  trunks. 


4)44 


TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


dient'and  dying  Saviour  in  my  heart;  when 
I  am  enabled  to  believe,  that  his  death  was 
the  desert  of  my  sins,  and  his  obedience  is 
the  matter  of  my  justification  ;  when  I  live 
in  the  exercise  of  this  appropriating  faith 
then  I  find  that  comfort,  and  I  receive  that 
benefit,  which  correspond  with  the  repose 
and  security  we  now  enjoy  from  this  hospi- 
table structure. 

Tber.  May  T  then,  from  this  instant,  look 
upon  Christ,  his  glorious  person,  his  perfect 
righteousness  and  his  precious  death,  as  my 
certain  inheritance  ?  May  I  firmly  believe, 
that,  through  this  grand  and  immensely-meri- 
torious cause,  I  shall  have  pardon  and  accept- 
ance, true  holiness,  and  endless  salvation  ? 

Asp.  Why  should  you  not  believe  all 
this  firmly?  You  have  the  same  reason  to 
believe  with  a  steady  confidence,  as  to  be- 
lieve with  any  degree  of  afiiance.  It  is  the 
free  promise  of  the  gospel,  addressed  to  sin- 
ners, that  warrants  the  latter  ;  and  the  very 
same  promise,  imder  the  same  circumstan- 
ces of  unmerited  munificence,  authorizes 
the  former. 

You  have  heard  my  opinion  ;  hear  now 
what  our  Lord  himself  says  :  "  Let  him 
that  is  athirst,  come  ;  and  whosoever  will, 
let  him  take  the  water  of  life  freely,"  Rev. 
xxii.  17.  He  may  partake  of  my  spiritual  and 
unspeakable  blessings,  as  freely  as  he  makes 
use  of  the  most  common  refreshments  ; 
as  freely  as  he  drinks  of  the  running  stream. 
This  is  his  royal  proclamation  :  Here  his 
gracious  invitation.  Look  unto  me,  and  be 
ye  saved,"  Isa.  xlv.  22,  saved  from  your 
disquieting  fears,  by  justification  ;  saved 
from  your  domineering  corruptions,  by  sanc- 
tification  ;  saved  from  every  evil,  by  com- 
plete and  eternal  redemption.  To  whom 
is  this  most  afl!'ectionate  call  directed  ?  Not 
to  a  few  distinguished  favourites  only,  but 
to  "all  the  ends  of  the  earth."  None  are 
excepted  ;  none  are  prohibited  ;  and  can  my 
Theron  imagine  that  he  is  excluded  ? 

Nay  farther,  hear  our  Lord's  earnest  en- 
treaty ;  hear  his  tender  and  repeated  impor- 
tunity :  As  though  God  did  beseech  you 
by  us,  Ave  pray  you  in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye 
reconciled  to  God,"  2  Cor.  v.  20.  Hark  ! 
It  is  the  voice  of  infinitely-condescending 
love,  speaking  by  his  ambassador : — Sin- 
ners, accept  my  great  salvation.  Enjoy 
what  I  have  purchased  for  you  by  my  dying 
agonies.  Do  not  suspect  my  kindness,  or 
refuse  my  'gifts.  This  will  wound  me 
deeper  than  the  spear  which  pierced  my 
heart." — O  !  the  grace  of  our  exalted  King. 
He  bows  from  his  celestial  throne.  He  al- 
most kneels  to  his  guilty  creatures.  He 
begs,  he  even  begs  of  obnoxious  sinners, 
not  to  reject  his  mercies.  After  all  this, 
can  you  entertain  the  least  doubt,  Theron, 
whether,  you  have  a  permission  to  believe 
firmly  ? 


Tlicr.  This  is  extraordinary  goodness  in- 
deed !  I  have  often  read  these  passages,  but 
never  saw  them,  till  this  hour,  in  a  light  so 
engaging  and  so  encouraging. 

Asp.  Should  not  this  threefold  cord  be 
strong  enough  to  draw  my  dear  friend,  let  me 
add  (what  must  absolutely  supersede  all  ob- 
jections) the  plain,  express,  peremptory 
command  of  the  Almighty.  "  This  is  his 
command,  that  we  should  believe  on  the 
name  of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,"  1  John  iii. 
23.  Pray,  examine  the  language ;  not  he 
allows  only,  or  barely  ad  vises,  but  commands. 
We  are  not  only  permitted,  but  strictly  re- 
quired. It  is  not  only  our  privilege,  but 
God's  positive  injunction.  Upon  the  dis- 
covery of  such  a  Saviour,  methinks  every 
heart  should  cry,  "  O  that  I  might  be  al- 
lowed to  approach  him  !  to  solicit  an  inter- 
est in  him  !  How  gladly  would  I  wait,  ever 
so  long  a  time,  in  ever  so  mean  a  posture, 
if  I  might  at  ^the  last  receive  him  as  my 
portion  !"  The  superabundant  goodness  of 
God  prevents  our  wishes  and  exceeds  our 
hopes.  "  I  freely  give  my  Son,"  saith  the 
Lord,  "and  all  his  riches  to  you.  I  be- 
seech you  as  a  compassionate  friend,  not  to 
refuse  him.  I  enjoin  you  as  an  uncontroll- 
able sovereign,  to  believe  on  him." — How 
gracious  !  most  amazingly  gracious  is  this 
command !  And  give  me  leave  to  hint,  it  is 
the  greatest  and  most  important  command 
that  ever  issued  from  the  throne  of  glory. 
If  this  be  neglected,  no  others  can  be  kej)t ; 
if  this  be  observed,  all  others  will  be  easy. 
Now,  Theron,  will  you  not  receive  Christ, 
and  look  upon  his  all-sufficient  merits  as 
your  own?  Is  not  your  warrant  clear  and 
unexceptionable  ?  nay,  is  not  your  obliga- 
tion strong  and  indispensable  ? 

Titer.  Truly,  Aspasio,  you  put  all  my 
mistrustful  apprehensions  to  the  stand. 
Here  is  a  proclamation  from  the  blessed 
God, — seconded  by  his  invitation — accom- 
panied l^y  his  entreaty — and  all  enforced  by 
his  command.  I  know  not  what  can  be  a 
fuller  proof  of  your  point,  or  a  stronger  in- 
ducement to  believe. 

Asp.  Yes,  my  friend,  I  can  produce  (if 
such  a  thing  be  possible)  stronger  jiroof 
still ;  such  as,  I  hope,  will  totally  route  un- 
belief, and  drive  ^1  her  forces  from  the 
field. 

God  has  not  only  invited  you,  entreated 
you,  and  commanded  you  to  live  under  the 
sweet  persuasion,  that  his  Son  is  your  Sa- 
viour :  but  he  has  given  you  the  grandest 
ratification  of  this  precious  truth.  He  has 
passed  his  word ;  he  has  made  you  a  firm 
promise  ;  nay,  he  has  given  you  many  and 
various  promises,  of  this  inestimable  bless- 
ing. And  "  God  is  not  a  man,  that  he 
should  lie ;  or  the  Son  of  man,  that  lie 
should  repent ;  Hath  he  said,  and  shall  he 
not  do  it  ?  or  hath  he  spoken,  and  shall  he 


DIALOOUE  XVI. 


443 


not  make  it  good  ?"  Numb,  xxiii.  19.  Hea- 
ven and  earth  may  drop  into  nothing,  soon- 
er than  one  promise,  or  indeed  one  jot  or 
tittle  of  bis  promise,  should  fall  to  the 
ground. 

Besides  this,  he  has  given  you,  if  I  may 
so  s})eak,  a  note  imder  bis  own  hand.  He 
has  recorded  his  promises  in  the  Bible,  and 
written  them  with  an  everlasting  pen  ;  so 
tliat  they  will  stand  conspicuous  and  indeli- 
ble, like  a  bill  drawn  upon  heaven,  and  a 
basis  laid  for  faith,  so  long  as  the  sun  and 
moon  endure. 

Nay,  he  has  confirmed  all  by  the  most 
solemn  sanction  imaginable — by  his  oath  ; 
by  bis  own  oath ;  by  the  oath  of  a  God. 
Though  his  word  is  sure,  and  his  promise 
innnutable,  he  adds,  astonishing  condescen- 
sion !  adorable  benignity  !  he  adds  his  oath 
to  all.  He  not  only  speaks,  but  swears  ; 
swears  by  himself,  swears  by  bis  own  eter- 
nal existence,  that  his  promises  belong — to 
whom  ?  Mark  this  particular  with  the  most 
exact  attention  :  To  whom  do  those  pro- 
mises belong,  which  are  ratified  in  this  un- 
equtilled  and  inviolable  manner  ?  To  the 
holy,  the  upright,  the  accomplished? — To 
tliose,  says  the  scrij)ture,  "  who  fiy  for  re- 
fuge to  the  hope  set  btfore  them,"  Heb.  vi. 
17,  IS;  the  hope  set  before  them  in  the 
propitiation,  the  righteousness,  the  inelTable 
merits  of  Christ. 

Ther.  May  1  then  believe,  firmly  believe, 
assuredly  believe,  that  Jesus  the  ^Mediator, 
and  all  the  rich  benefits  of  his  mediation, 
are  mine  ?  Pardon  me,  Aspasio,  for  reiter- 
ating the  question.  I  am  really,  with  le- 
spect  to  the  obedience  of  faith,  too  much 
like  that  Saxon  monarch,  who,  for  his  re- 
missness and  inactivity,  was  surnamed  the 
"  Unready."" 

Asp.  I  do  more  than  pardon  my  dear 
Theron  :  I  feel  for  him,  and  I  sympathize 
with  him.  If  there  is  some  of  that  Saxon 
prince's  disease  running  in  his  religion  ;  I 
am  sure  there  is  too  much  of  it  in  mine; 
and  I  fear  it  is  an  epidemical  distemper-,  but 
let  us  reflect  a  moment:  Suppose  any  neigh- 
bour of  substance  and  credit  should  bind 
himself  by  a  deliberate  promise,  to  do  you 
some  particular  piece  of  service  ;  if  he  should 
add  to  his  promise  a  note  under  his  hand  ; 
it  he  should  corroborate  both  by  some  authen- 
tic- pledge ;  if  he  should  establish  all  by  a 
most  awful  and  solemn  oath :  could  you 
suspect  the  sincerity  of  his  engagement,  or 
harbour  any  doubt  with  regard  to  its  execu- 
tion ?  This  would  be  most  unreasonable 
in  any  one ;  and  to  your  generous  temper, 
I  am  very  certain,  it  would  be  impossible. 
Let  us  remember  that  God  has  given  us  all 
this  cause  for  an  assurance  of  faith,  and 
more.      Nay,  I  will  defy  the  most  timorous 


and  suspicious  temper  to  demand  from  the 
most  treacherous  person  on  earth,  a  greater, 
stronger,  fuller  security,  than  the  God  of 
infinite  fidelity  has  granted  to  you  and  me. 
After  all  this,  one  would  think,  diffidence 
itself  could  no  longer  hesitate,  lu/r  the  most 
jealous  incredulity  demur.  Shall  we,  can 
we  withhold  that  affiance  from  the  un- 
changeable Creator,  M"hich  we  could  not  but 
repose  on  a  fallible  creature  ? 

Ther.  You  rouse  and  animate  me,  As- 
pasio. O  !  that  I  may  arise,  and,  with  the 
divine  assistance,  shake  off  this  stupor  of 
unbelief.  Certainly,  it  can  never  be  ho- 
nourable to  God,  nor  pleasing  to  Christ, 
nor  profitable  to  ourselves. 

Asp.  If  it  be,  then  cherish  it ;  maintain 
it,  and  never  relinquish  it.  But  how  can 
it  be  honourable  to  God  ?  it  depreciates  his 
goodness ;  it  is  a  reproach  to  his  veracity  ; 
nay,  the  apostle  scruples  not  to  affirm,  that 
it  "makes  him  a  liar,"  1  John  v.  10.  Where- 
as, they  who  believe  his  testimony,  glorify 
his  faithfulness  ;  glorify  his  beneficence  ; 
and,  as  John  the  Baptist  speaks,  "  set  to 
their  seal  that  God  is  true.  John  iii.  33. 
I  have  been  informed,  that  when  the  late 
Elector  of  Hanover  was  declared,  by  the 
parliament  of  Great  Britain,  successor  to 
the  vacant  throne,  several  persons  of  dis- 
tinction waited  upon  his  Highness,  in  order 
to  make  timely  application  for  the  most  va- 
luable preferments.  Several  requests  of  this 
nature  were  granted,  and  each  was  confirm- 
ed by  a  kind  of  promissory  note.  One  gen- 
tleman ])articularly  solicited  for  the  master- 
ship of  the  Rolls.  Being  indulged  in  his 
desire,  he  was  offered  the  same  confirma- 
tion which  had  been  vouchsafed  to  other 
successful  petitioners.  Upon  which  he 
seemed  to  be  under  a  pang  of  graceful  con- 
fusion and  surprise ;  begged  that  he  might 
not  put  the  royal  donor  to  such  unnecessary 
trouble  ;  at  the  same  time  protesting,  that 
he  looked  upon  his  Highness'  word  as  the 
very  best  ratification  of  his  suit.  With  this 
conduct,  and  this  compliment,  the  Elector 
was  not  a  little  pleased.  "  This  is  the  gen- 
tleman," he  said,  "  who  does  me  a  real  ho- 
nour ;  treats  me  like  a  king  ;  and  whoe\'er 
is  disappointed,  he  shall  certai  nly  be  gratified." 
— So  we  are  assured  by  the  testimony  of 
revelation  that  the  patriarch,  "  who  stag- 
gered not  through  unbelief,  gave,"  and  in 
the  most  signal,  the  most  acceptable  man- 
ner, "  glory  to  God."  Kom.   iv.  20. 

Is  it  "  pleasing  to  Christ  ?"  Quite  the 
reverse.  It  dishonours  his  merit ;  it  de- 
tracts from  the  dignity  of  his  righteousness; 
it  would  enervate  the  power  of  his  interces- 
sion. Accordingly,  you  may  observe,  there 
is  nothing  which  our  Lord  so  frequently  re- 
proved in  his  followers  as  this  sjiirit  of  un- 
belief. What  says  he  to  his  disciples  when 
he  came  down  from  the  mount  of  tiausfi- 


446 


TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


guration  ?  "  O  faithless  and  perverse  genera- 
tion !"*  They  were  perverse,  because  faitli- 
less.  What  says  he  to  the  travellers  whom 
he  overtook  in  their  journey  to  Eminaus? 
"  O  fools,  and  slow  of  heart  to  believe  !" 
Luke  xxiv.  25.  They  were  fools  because 
slow  to  believe.  What  says  he  to  the 
apostles  after  his  resurrection  ?  "  Jesus  up- 
braided them  with  their  inibelief."  Mark, 
xvi.  1 4.  He  took  no  notice  of  their  cow- 
ardly and  perfidious  behaviour  ;  he  inveigh- 
ed against  none  of  their  other  follies  and 
infirmities  ;  but  he  upbraided  them  with 
their  unbelief.  Not  gently  rebuked.  No  ; 
this  was  a  fault  so  unreasonable  in  itself, 
so  reproachful  to  their  Master,  so  pcniici- 
ous  to  themselves,  that  he  severely  repri- 
manded them  for  it ;  with  an  air  of  vehe- 
mence, and  with  a  mixture  of  invective. 

Is  it  "  profitable  to  ourselves  ?"  Nothing 
less.  It  damps  our  love,  and  diminishes 
our  comfort.  It  subjects  us  to  that  fear 
which  hath  torment ;  and  disqualifies  us  for 
that  obedience  which  is  filial.  In  a  word, 
this  distrustful  and  unbelieving  temper 
weakens  every  principle  of  piety,  and  im- 
poverishes the  whole  soul.  Whence  come 
spiritual  oscitancy  and  remissness  ?  whence 
proceed  sterility  and  unfruitfulness  in  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  ?  St.  Peter  ascribes 
them  all  to  an  habitual  unbelief.  Such  per- 
sons, he  says,  "have  forgotten  that  they  were 
purged  from  their  former  sins."  2  Pet.  i.  8, 
9.  In  the  regenerate,  where  it  remains,  it 
is  very  detrimental ;  for  "  they  that  will 
not  believe  shall  not  be  established."  Isa. 
vii.  9.  In  the  unregenerate,  where  it  pre- 
vails, it  is  absolutely  destructive  ;  and  though 
it  may  not  kill  like  an  apoplexy,  it  wastes 
like  a  consumption.  "  They  could  not  enter 
in  because  of  unbelief."     Heb.  iii.  19. 

Let  us  then,  my  dear  friend,  cast  away 
this  sin,  which'so  easily  besets  us  both.  It 
clogs  our  feet ;  it  hampers  all  our  powers  ; 
and  hinders  us  from  running,  with  alacrity 
and  sjieed,  "the  race  that  is  set  before  us." 
What  says  David  ?  "  God  hath  spoken  in 
his  holiness,"  Psalm  Ix.  6,  hath  made  an 
express  and  inviolable  promise,  that  I  shall 
be  ruler  of  his  people  Israel.  "  I  will  re- 
joice therefore;"  away  with  every  alarming 
apprehension  ;  I  will  even  exult  and 
triumph.  Nay  more  ;  "  I  will  divide  She- 
ehem,  and  mete  out  the  valley  of  Succoth  ;" 
I  will  look  upon  the  whole  land  as  my  own. 
I  will  divide  it,  and  dispose  of  it,  just  as  if 
it  was  already  in  my  possession.  Why 
should  not  you  and  I  also  say,  "  God  hath 
spoken  in  his  holiness  ;  hath  expressly  and 
solemnly  declared,   The  promise  of  an  all- 


«  Ailo-rja/^^Ev,;,  Matth.  xvii.  17.  AlielieviiiRstate 
of  mind  is  like  some  well-arrangeil  and  beautiful  sys- 
tem of  limbs.  Unbelief  dislocates  the  parts,  distorts 
the  harmonious  frame,  and  disfigures  its  comely  pro- 
portion. 


sufficient  Saviour  is  to  you.  "  We  will  re- 
joice therefore ;"  confiding  in  this  most  faith- 
ful word,  we  will  bid  adieu  to  all  disquiet- 
ing fears,  and  make  our  boast  of  this  glori- 
ous Redeemer,  Yes  ;  notwithstanding  all 
our  unworthiness,  Christ  and  his  atone- 
ment, Christ  and  his  righteousness,  are 
ours.  God  hath  passed  iiis  word ;  and 
amidst  all  our  temptations  his  word  is  our 
anchor;  its  hold  is  firm,  and  its  ground  im- 
moveable.* 

Tlier.  I  have  heard  some  people  distin- 
guish between  the  faith  of  reliance,  and  the 
faith  of  assurance  ;  between  the  reflex  and 
the  direct  act  of  faith.  Methinks,  I  approve 
these  sentiments,  though  I  dislike  the  terms. 
The  sentiments  are  happily  adapted  to  the 
relief  of  human  infirmity  ;  though  the  terms 
are  rather  too  abstruse  for  ordinary  capaci- 
ties to  understand. 

Asp.  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  very  fond 
either  of  the  one  or  of  the  other.  In  my 
opinion,  they  both  partake  too  much  of  the 
subtilty  of  the  schools  ;  and  are  more  likely 
to  create  perplexity,  than  to  administer 
godly  edifying.  For  which  reason,  I  should 
choose  to  drop  the  difficult  phrases,  and  not 
to  dwell  on  the  nice  distinctions  :  Yet,  it 
we  must  not  dismiss  them  without  some 
notice,  I  would  just  remark — 

That  the  faith  of  reliance,  in  its  true  scrip- 
tural sense,  includes  or  presupposes  a  degree 
of  assurance.  Includes  ;  for  what  is  reli- 
ance but  a  repose  of  the  mind,  which  is  at- 
tended with  tranquillity,  and  excludes  per- 
turbation ?  How  can  this  take  place,  if  there 
be  no  sort  of  conviction,  that  "  the  Lord  is 
my  light  and  my  salvation  ?" — Presupposes  ; 
for  who  would  rely  on  a  satisfaction  made, 
without  being  persuaded  that  the  satisfac- 
tion is  for  him  and  his  iniquities  ?  Reliance, 
separated  from  this  persuasion,  seems  to  be 
neither  comfortable  nor  reasonable. 

As  to  those  who  insist  ujjon  what  they 
call  th^reflex  act  of  faith  ;  sure,  they  mis- 
take the  nature  of  the  thing.  This,  if  I  un- 
derstand them  aright,  is  their  way  of  argu- 
ing : — "  I  am  a  new  creature ;  I  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  in  sincerity ;  I  have  the  fruits 
of  the  Spirit :  From  whence  it  is  plain,  that 
Christ  and  his  salvation  are  mine."  Now, 
in  all  this  procedure,  I  cannot  discern  the 
least  footstep  of  faith;  no,  not  the   least 

*  This  very  important  doctrine  is  more  copiously 
displayed  in  some  sermons  ,of  Mr  Ebenezer  Erskine 
on  the  "assurance of  faith,"  vol.  iii.  p.  201. f — Was  I 
to  read,  in  order  to  retine  my  taste,  or  improve  my 
style,  I  would  prefer  Bishop  Atterbury's  sermons. 
Dr.  Hate's  works,  or  Mr  Seed's  discourses.  But  was 
I  to  read,  with  a  single  view  to  the  edification  of  my 
heart,  in  true  faith,  solid  comfort,  and  evangelical  ho- 
liness, I  would  have  recourse  to  Mr.  Erskine,  and 
take  his  volumes  for  my  guide,  my  companion,  and 
my  own  familiar  friend. 

t  This  refers  to  a  select  collection  of  Mess.  Ebenezer 
and  lialph  Erskine's sermons  published  at  London,  in 
three  volimnes  octavo.  The  sermons  on  the  "  assur- 
ance of  faith"  are  to  be  found  in  the  first  volume  of 
Mr  Ebenezer  Erskine's  sermons  printed  at  Edinburgh 
in  1701. 


DIALOGUE  XVI. 


UJ 


trace  of  receiving  a  testimony,  or  relyinp 
upon  a  Saviour.  Here  is  nothing  more 
than  a  logical  deduction  of  one  proposition 
from  another  ;  a  conclusion  drawn  from  giv- 
en premises.  Grant  the  latter,  and  any 
person,  without  any  aid  from  the  Spirit, 
will  infer  the  former.  It  may,  therefore, 
more  properly  be  reckoned  an  act  of  reason- 
ing than  of  believing  ;  it  is  foundetl  on  what 
we  ourselves  feel,  not  upon  the  record  of  a 
faithful  God  ;  and  it  is  styled  by  judicious 
writers,  the  assurance  of  sense  rather  than 
of  faith. 

When,  in  conformity  to  the  aforemen- 
tioned opinion,  we  are  advised  to  prove  our 
title  to  comfort,  by  genuine  marks  of  con- 
version, and  taught  on  tliis  column  to  fix 
the  capital  of  assurance,  I  would  rather  pro- 
pose a  question  than  advance  objections.  Is 
not  this  somewhat  like  placing  the  dome  of 
a  cathedral  upon  the  stalk  of  a  tulip  ? 

TTier.  No,  say  they;  it  was  the  practice 
of  the  apostle  himself ;  and  he  has  left  it 
upon  record,  as  a  pattern  for  all  posterity  to 
copy.  "  We  know  that  we  are  passed  fiom 
death  unto  life,  because  we  love  the  bre- 
thren." 

Asp.  Observe,  Theron,  the  process  of 
the  apostle's  reasoning.  It  is  like  the  form 
of  an  inverted  cone  ;  where  you  have  first 
the  point,  and  from  thence  proceed  to  the 
base.  So  the  sacred  writer  begins  with  the 
less,  and  ascends  to  the  greater  proof.  He 
says,  in  one  of  the  following  verses  ;  "  Here- 
by perceive  we  the  love  of  God,*  because 
he  laid  down  his  life,"  1  John  iii.  16,  not 
merely  for  sinners,  but  for  us  in  particular. 
Here,  you  see,  is  assurance  by  the  direct  act 
of  faith.  From  this  truth  believed,  from 
this  blessing  received,  the  love  of  the  bre- 
thren takes  its  rise  ;  which  may  very  justly 
be  admitted  as  an  evidence  that  our  faith  is 
real,  and  our  assurance  no  delusion  ;  As 
yonder  leaves  may  serve  to  distinguish  the 
particular  species,  and  ascertain  the  healthy 
state  of  the  trees  on  which  they  grow. 

When  your  tenants  bring  in  their  rent, 
this  aflbrds  no  contemptible  evidence  that 
the  lands  which  they  respectively  occupy  are 
yours.  Eut  this  is  a  proof  which  does  not 
occur  every  day,  or  every  week ;  it  is  occa- 


»  The  word  God  is  not  in  the  original.  It  was 
omitted  by  the  apostle,  just  as  the  p,articular  name 
is  omitted  by  Mary,  when  slie  speaks  to  the  gardener ; 
Sir,  il'thou  hast  borne  him  heme :— and  by  the  church, 
when  she  addresses  the  sacred  oliject  of  her  affection ; 
Let  him  kiss  me  with  the  kisses  of  his  mouth,  John 
XX.  15.  Cantic.  i.  1.— In  all  which  places  there  is  a 
language,  a  very  emphatical  language,  even  in  the 
silence.  It  declares,  how  deeply  the  heart  was  pe- 
netrated, how  totally  the  thouf^hts  were  possessed, 
by  the  beloved  and  illustrious  subject.  It  expresses 
also  the  superlative  dignity  .and  amiableness  of  the 
person  meant;  as  though  he,  and  he  only,  either 
was  or  deserve<l  to  be  known  and  admired  by  all. 
For  which  reason,  to  mention  his  name,  or  display 
his  excellencies,  seemed  as  needless  as  to  show  light  I 
to  the  open  eye. 


sional  only,  and  of  the  subordinate  kind. 
The  grand  demonstration,  that  which  is  .al- 
ways at  hand,  and  always  forcible,  is  your 
possession  of  the  deeds  of  conveyance.  Thus, 
the  promise  of  God  in  his  divine  word  is 
our  charter,  or  the  authentic  conveyance  of 
our  right  to  pardon  and  salvation.  Make 
just  the  same  difference  between  this  pro- 
mise and  your  own  holiness,  as  you  make 
between  the  writings  of  your  estate  and  the 
receival  of  the  revenues  ;  you  will  then  judge 
aright,  because  your  judgment  will  coincide 
with  the  apostle's. 

Besides,  this  method  of  seeking  peace  and 
assurance,  I  fear,  will  perplex  the  simple- 
minded,  and  cherish,  rather  than  suppress, 
the  fluctuations  of  doubt.  For,  let  the  marks 
be  what  you  please,  a  love  of  the  brethren 
or  a  love  of  all  righteousness,  a  change  of 
heart  or  an  alteration  of  life  ;  these  good 
qualifications  are  sometimes  like  the  stars  at 
noon-day,  not  easily,  if  at  all  discernible; 
or  else  they  are  like  a  glow-worm  in  the 
night,  glimmering  rather  than  shining ;  con- 
sequently will  yield,  at  the  best,  but  a  feeble, 
at  the  worst,  a  very  precarious  evidence.  If, 
in  such  a  manner,  we  should  acquire  some 
little  assurance,  how  soon  inay  it  be  unset- 
tled by  the  incursions  of  daily  temptation, 
or  destroyed  by  the  insurrection  of  remain- 
ing sin  !  At  such  a  juncture,  how  will  it 
keep  its  standing  !  how  retain  its  being  !  It 
will  fare  like  a  tottering  wall,  before  the 
tempest  ;  or  be  "  as  the  rush  without  mire, 
or  the  flag  without  water."  Job  viii.  11. 

Instead  thei-efore  of  poring  on  our  own 
hearts,  to  discover,  by  inherent  qualities, 
our  interest  in  Christ,  I  should  rather  renew 
my  application  to  the  free  and  faithful  pro- 
mise of  the  Lord — assert  and  maintain  my 
title  on  this  unalterable  ground  :  "  Pardon 
is  mine,  I  would  say  grace  is  mine,  Christ 
and  all  his  spiritual  blessings  are  mine. 
Why  ?  because  I  am  conscious  of  sanctify, 
ing  operations  in  my  own  breast  ?  Rather 
because  '  God  hath  spoken  in  his  holiness ;' 
because  all  these  precious  privileges  are  con- 
signed over  to  me  in  the  everlasting  gospel, 
with  a  clearness  unquestionable  as  the  truth, 
with  a  certainty  inviolable  as  the  oath  of 
God." 

Cast  your  eye  into  yonder  meadow. 
Take  notice  of  that  industrious  fisherman, 
how  intent  he  is  upon  the  pursuit  of  his 
business.  He  has  just  thrown  his  net,  and 
taken  a  considerable  booty.  You  do  not 
see  him  spending  his  time  in  idle  tritmiphs, 
on  account  of  his  success :  He  does  not 
stand  to  measure  the  dimensions  of  the  fish, 
or  compute  the  value  of  his  prize  :  But 
having,  without  delay,  secured  the  captives, 
he  prepares  for  another  cast,  and  hopes  for 
another  draught. 

So  let  us,  instead  of  exulting  in  any  past 
j  acquisitions,  seek  afresh  to  the  inexhausti- 


418 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


ble  fulness  of  our  Saviour  for  renewed  com- 
nuinications.  If  we  have  been  blessed  with 
any  taste  of  his  goodness,  or  any  tokens  of 
bis  love,  let  us  not  too  fondly  dote  upon  the 
sweetness  of  such  experiences.  Let  us  not 
make  them  the  foundation  of  our  confi- 
dence, but  only  so  many  encouragements  to 
]ierseveie  and  advance  in  believing ;  that, 
liavirig  life  and  having  peace  from  our  divine 
Htad,  we  may  have  them  "  more  abundant- 
ly." John  X.  10.  Then  will  be  fulfilled 
the  saying  which  is  written,  The  just — 
the  righteous  in  Jesus  Christ — shall  live ; 
shall  not  only  be  delivered  from  condemna- 
tion and  death,  but  shall  thrive  in  comfort, 
and  flourish  in  holiness — How  ?  by  reflect- 
ing on  their  sanctification,  or  viewing  their 
own  attainments  ?  No  ;  but  by  the  infinite- 
ly more  encouraging  views  of  their  complete- 
ness in  Christ,  and  by  a  fresh,  a  repeated, 
a  never-ceasing  exercise  of  faith,  Rom.  i. 
17,  on  that  Holy  One  of  God. 

This,  I  verily  think,  nay,  this  the  apostle 
testifies,  is  the  most  effectual  way  of  feeding 
that  lamp,  and  quickening  that  flame,  which, 
having  cheered  us  in  our  earthly  pilgrimage, 
will  be  brightened  up  into  immortal  glory 
in  the  heavens. 

Here  they  went  in  ;  and  after  a  slight  re- 
freshment took  coach.  As  they  were  re- 
turning home,  Theron  observed,  not  with- 
out concern,  the  changed  and  melancholy 
aspect  of  things  in  the  territories  of  the 
husbandman.  The  fields  of  corn,  which  a 
little  while  ago  were  gracefully  erect,  or 
softly  inclining  to  the  breeze,  lay  sunk  and 
flatted  under  the  impetuous  rains.  Such, 
added  Aspasio,  such  I  apprehend  will  be 
our  faith,  if  it  aspires  not  after  assurance, 
or  if  its  assurance  is  erected  on  any  endow- 
ments of  our  own. 

Thtr.  If  this  is  the  case,  what  can  be 
the  reason  why  so  many  people  arc  totally 
destitute  of  all  religious  assurance  ?  have  no 
notion  of  it,  much  less  aspire  after  it?  and 
as  to  full  assurance,  they  would  be  much 
surprised,  perhaps  highly  disgusted,  at  the 
very  'mention  of  such  a  doctrine  ? 

Aiij).  If  people  never  aspire  after  the  as- 
surance of  faith,  or  an  appropriating  interest 
in  Christ,  I  very  much  question  whether 
they  are  truly  awakened,  or  really  in  ear- 
nest. They  are  like  the  men  of  Ephraim, 
whom  the  pro])het  styles  "a  cake  not  turn- 
ed," Hos.  vii.  8.  Neither  bread,  nor  yet 
dough ;  neither  absolute  reprobates,  nor 
real  saints ;  or,  as  our  Lord  explains  the 
proverb,  in  his  charge  against  the  church  of 
Laodicea,  they  are  "  neither  hot  nor  cold." 
Rev.  iii.  15.  Not  frozen  in  insensibility,  it  is 
true  ;  at  the  same  time  not  fervent  in  spirit, 
but  indifterent  and  lukewarm  in  the  con- 
cerns of  religion.  As  to  a  full  assuiance, 
or  the  highest  degree  of  this  giace,  was  I  to 
declare   myself   more    explicitly  upon   this 


point,  it  should  be  in  the  calm  and  moderat* 
words  of  a  judicious  divine :  "  I  do  not 
affirm,  that  without  a  full  assurance  there  is 
no  faith.  But  this  I  maintain,  that  wher- 
ever the  latter  exists,  there  will  be  a  smeere 
pursuit  of  the  former." 

Among  the  reasons  why  so  few  persons 
attain  this  eminent  blessing,  we  may  reckon 
the  following: — They  understand  not  the 
perfect  freeness  of  grace,  nor  the  immense 
merits  of  Christ:  They  never  consider  the 
unspeakable  value  of  an  assured  faith ; 
neither  are  they  aware  that  it  is  intended 
for  the  enjoyment  of  sinners  :  Either  they 
seek  it  not  at  all,  or  else  they  seek  it  where 
it  is  not  to  be  found  ;  from  some  works  of 
righteousness  in  themselves,  rather  than 
from  the  gracious  promise  of  God  in  his 
word ;  which  is  altogether  as  ill-judged, 
and  as  sure  to  issue  in  disappointment,  as 
if  a  person  should  go  in  quest  of  ice  amidst 
the  torrid  zone,  or  expect  to  find  spicy 
islands  under  the  northern  pole. 

But  whether  people  consider  it  or  no,  the 
value  of  an  assured  faith  is  indeed  unspeak- 
able. When  this  is  wrought  in  the  heart, 
peace  will  stand  firm,  and  afflictions  drop 
their  sting.  Prayer  will  return  laden  with 
treasures,  and  death  will  approach  stripped 
of  its  terrors.  The  soul  will  be  as  a  water- 
ed garden,  and  all  her  graces  blossom  as 
a  rose.  When  this  is  wrought  in  the  heart, 
the  gospel  of  Christ  will  appear  with  new 
charms,  and  operate  with  new  energy.  Its 
hymns  will  no  longer  be  a  strange  language 
to  your  ear,  nor  its  privileges  as  forbidden 
fruit  to  your  palate.  You  will  then,  as  you 
peruse  each  sacred  page,  feel  it  to  be  the 
power  of  God,  and  "  taste  that  the  Lord  is 
gracious."  1  Pet.  ii.  3.  You  will  reap  a 
benefit,  and  enjoy  a  delight,  as  much  supe- 
rior to  those  of  the  doubting  reader,  as  the 
pleasure  of  eating  this  delicious  peach  is  su- 
perior to  the  mere  description  of  its  agree- 
able relish. 

Bear  with  me  a  moment  longer,  Theron  : 
For  you  can  hardly  imagine  what  an  im- 
provement and  exaltation  this  will  give  to 
every  truth  you  contemplate,  and  every  ob- 
ject you  behold.  When  you  contemplate 
the  rise  of  kingdoms,  and  the  fall  of  em- 
pires ;  when  you  recollect  the  many  great 
and  astonishing  events  recorded  in  the  his- 
tory of  nations  ;  how  highly  delightful  must 
it  be  to  say,  "  All  these  passed  under  the 
superintendency  of  that  hand  which  was 
pierced  with  the  bloody  nail,  and  fastened 
to  the  cursed  cross  for  me  !"  When  you  be- 
hold the  magnificence  of  creation,  and  the 
richness  of  its  furniture — the  grandeur  of 
nature,  and  the  variety  of  her  works — what 
a  heightened  pleasure  must  they  all  impart, 
if,  as  you  view  the  glorious  scene,  your 
thoughts  make  answer  to  your  eyes,  "  All 
these   were  brought  into^  existence  by  that 


DIALOGUE  XVII. 


449 


p.dorable  Person  who  sustained  my  guilt,  and 
wrought  out  my  justifying  righteousness  !" 
O  that  we  may  possess  this  "  precious 
faith  !"  '2  Pet.  i.  1,  that  it  may  grow  incess- 
antly, "  grow  exceedingly,"  2  Thess.  i.  3, 
till  it  he  rooted  like  those  full-grown  oaks 
under  which  we  lately  walked,  and  ground- 
ed* like  that  well-built  edifice  which  is  still 
in  our  view. 

TJier.  I  join  with  my  Aspasio  in  this 
wish  ;  and  must  beg  of  him  to  inform  me 
how  I  may  attain  so  desirable  a  blessing. 

Asp.  You  have  entirely  cured  me,  The- 
roii,  of  making  apologies  :  would  to  God  I 
might  be  as  successfully  instrumental  in  de- 
livering my  friend  from  his  doubts  !  that  the 
gospel  might  come  to  us  as  it  came  to  the 
Thessalonians,  "  not  in  word  only,  but  in 
power  and  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  in  much 
assurance."  1  Thess.  i.  5. 

Prayer  is  the  first  expedient.  Every 
good  gift  is  from  above,  and  cometh  down 
from  the  Father  of  lights.  Christ  is  not 
only  the  object,  but  the  author  and  finisher 
of  our  faith.  "  Lord,  increase  our  faith  !"  was 
the  request  of  his  disciples,  and  should  be 
the  prevailing  language  of  our  hearts. 

Lay  up  uuuiy  cf  the  divine  promises  in 
your  memory.  Siock  that  noble  cabinet 
with  this  invaluable  treasure.  "  Faith  com- 
eth by  hearing,"!  Kom.  x.  17,  by  meditating 
on,  by  praying  over  this  word  of  life  and  word 
of  grace.  And  never,  never  forget  the  free- 
ness  with  which  the  promise  is  made,  and  its 
good  things  are  bestowed.  You  are  to  re- 
ceive the  one,  and  apply  the  other,  not  with 
a  full  but  with  an  empty  hand ;  not  as  a  right- 
eous person,  but  as  an  unworthy  creature. 

Make  the  trial.  Exercise  yourself  in 
this  great  secret  of  true  godliness.  I  am 
satisfied  it  will  be  productive  of  the  most 
beneficial  effects.  Look  unto  Jesus  as  dy- 
ing in  your  stead,  and  purchasing  both 
grace  and  glory  for  your  enjoyment.  Come 
unto  God  as  a  poor  siimer,  yet  with  a  con- 
fident dependence  :  expecting  all  spiritual 
blessings  through  Him  that  loved  you,  and 
gave  himself  for  you.  "  He  that  believeth," 
with  this  appropriating  faith,  "  shall  not  be 
confounded."  1  Pet.  ii.  6,  nor  frustrated  in 
his  expectations.  "  He  that  believeth," 
vv'ith  this  ap])ropriating  faith,  "shall  have  the 
witness  in  himself,"  1  John  v-  10.  Nothing 
will  bring  in  such  light  and  peace,  such  ho- 
liness and  happiness  to  his  soul.  The  Ephe- 
sians.  thus  believing,  "  were  sealed  with  that 
Holy  Spirit  of  promise,"^  Eph.  i.  1,*}.    The 


»  Rooted  and  grounded  '•t^^i^u/yclvoi  x'ai  rthfit- 
'Aiufj-ivoi.  These  <nrc  the  apostle's  beautiful  ideas,  or 
rather  expressive  similitudes,  each  comprehended  ina 
fiiiplc  word.  Eph.  iii.  18. 

t  <Ju  which  account  the  scriptures  are  styled  the 
wonls  of  faith,  I  'I'liu-iv.  (i. 

%  "  \1nrTivffa.vT>s  iir(()^ayiirhri,  not  after  that 
ye  believetl,  ye  were  scaled ;  but  believing  ye  were 


dispersed  of  Israel,  thus  believing,  "  rejoiced 
with  joy  imspeakable,"  1  Pet.  i.  8.  Those 
were  marked  out  as  rightful  heirs,  these 
were  blessed  with  some  delightful  foretastes 
and  both  were  prepared  for  the  complete 
fruition  of  life  and  immortality.  O  !  that 
we  may  "  be  followers  of  their  example,  and 
sharers  of  their  felicity  !" 

As  for  those  doubts  which  have  given 
you  so  much  perplexity,  and  cost  us  so  long 
a  disquisition,  look  upon  them  as  some  of 
your  grat'test  enemies.  Oppose  them  with 
all  the  resolution  and  all  the  vigour  of  your 
mind.  Nay,  look  upon  those  unreasonable 
doubts,  as  some  of  your  greatest  sins.  Con- 
fess them  with  the  deejjest  shame ;  and 
pray  against  them  with  the  utmost  ardour. 
With  equal  assiduity  and  zeal,  let  us  press 
after  a  steadfast,  an  immoveable,  a  triumph- 
ant faith.  Faith  is  the  vehicle  and  the  in- 
strument of  every  good  :  "  All  things  are 
possible  to  him  that  believeth,"  Mark  ix.  23. 
Faith  is  the  immediate  and  grand  end  of 
the  whole  gospel :  "  These  thinijs  are  writ- 
ten, that  ye  might  believe,"  John  xx.  31. 
Let  us  therefore  covet,  earnestly  let  us 
covet  this  best  of  gifts,  and  "  shew  all  dili- 
gence to  the  full  assurance  of  hope."  lleb. 
vii.  II. 


DIALOGUE  XVIL 

The  next  morning  Theron  ordered  a  cold 
collation  to  be  prepared,  and  his  pleasure- 
boat  to  hold  itself  in  readiness.  Breakfast 
being  despatched,  and  some  necessary  orders 
relating  to  the  family  given — Now,  says  ho 
to  Aspasio,  let  me  fulfil  my  promise  ;  or 
rather,  let  us  execute  our  mutual  engage- 
ment ;  and  consign  the  remainder  of  this 
mild  and  charming  day  to  a  rural  excur- 
sion. 

We  will  take  our  route  along  one  of  the 
finest  roads  in  the  world  :  A  road  incom- 
parably more  curious  and  durable  than  the 
famous  causeways  raised  by  those  ])uissant 
hands  which  conquered  the  globe  :  A  road 
which  has  subsisted  from  the  beginning  of 
time  ;  and  though  frequented  by  innumer- 
able carriages,  laden  with  the  heaviest  bur- 
dens, lias  never  been  gulled,  never  wanted 
repair  to  this  very  hour — Upon  this  they 
stept  into  the  chariot,  and  are  conve3'ed  to 
a  large  navigable  river,  about  three  (piarters 
of  a  mile  distant  fiom  the  house.  Hero 
they  launch  upon  a  new  element,  attended 


sealed.  In  the  w.ty  of  believing,  ye  hccainc  partak- 
ers of  this  sealing  and  sanctifying  Spirit.  (\)iifi)rm- 
ably  to  the  expostulation  of  thcaposllc  on  annliier 
orcasion,  "Received  ye  the  S|iiril  by  the  work  ;  of 
the  law,  or  by  the  hear'inf;  of  failb  .'" 
2   G 


450 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


by  two  or  three  servants,  expert  at  hand- 
ling the  oar  and  managing  the  neta. 

Is  this  the  road,  replied  Aspasio,  on 
which  my  friend  bestows  his  panegyric  ?  It 
is  indeed  more  curious  in  its  structure,  and 
more  durable  in  its  substance,  than  the  cele- 
brated Roman  causeways;  though  Imustas- 
sm-e  you,  the  latter  have  a  very  distinguish- 
ed share  of  my  esteem.  I  admire  them  far 
beyond  Trajan's  pillar,  or  Caracalla's  baths  ; 
far  beyond  the  idle  pomp  of  the  Pantheon, 
or  the  worse  than  idle  magnificence  of  the 
amphitheatre.  They  do  the  truest  honour 
to  the  empire ;  because,  while  they  were  the 
glory  of  Rome,  they  were  a  general  good  ;* 
and  not  only  a  monument  of  her  grandeur, 
but  a  benefit  to  mankind. 

But  more  than  all  these  works,  I  admire 
that  excellent  and  divinely  gracious  pur- 
pose to  which  providence  made  the  empire 
itself  subservient.  It  was  a  kind  of  road  or 
causeway  for  the  everlasting  gospel,  and  af- 
forded the  word  of  life  a  free  passage  to  the 
very  ends  of  the  earth.  The  evangelical  dove 
mounted  the  wings  of  the  Roman  eagle,  and 
flew  with  surprising  expedition  through  all 
nations.  Who  would  have  thought  that  in- 
satiable ambition,  and  the  most  bloody  wars, 
should  be  paving  a  way  for  the  Prince  of 
humility  and  peace  ?  How  remote  from  all 
human  apprehension  was  such  a  design,  and 
how  contrary  to  the  natural  result  of  things 
was  such  an  event !  Most  remarkably,  there- 
fore, was  that  observation  of  the  Psalmist 
verified,  "  His  ways  are  in  the  sea,  and  his 
paths  in  the  great  waters,  and  his  footsteps 
are  not  known."   Psal.  Ixxvii.  19. 

Conversing  on  such  agreeable  subjects, 
they  were  carried  by  the  stream  through  no 
jess  agreeable  scenes.  They  pass  by  hills 
clothed  with  hanging  woods,  and  woods  ar- 
rayed in  varying  green.  Here,  excluded 
from  a  sight  of  the  outstretched  plains,  they 
are  entertained  with  a  group  of  unsubstan- 
tial images,  and  the  wonders  of  a  mimic 
creation.  Another  sun  shines,  but  stript  of 
his  blazing  beams,  in  the  watery  concave  ; 
while  clouds  sail  along  the  downward  skies, 
and  sometimes  disclose,  sometimes  draw 
a  veil  over  the  radiant  orb.  Trees,  with 
their  inverted  tops,  either  flourish  in  the  fair 
serene  below,  or  else  paint,  with  a  pleasing 
delusion,  the  pellucid  flood.  Even  the  moun- 
tains are  there,  but  in  a  headlong  posture;  and 
notwithstanding  their  prodigious  bulk,  they 
quiver  in  this  floating  mirror,  like  the  poplar 
leaves  which  adorn  their  sides. 

Soon  as  the  boat  advances,  and  disturbs 


♦  These  roads  ran  through  all  Italy,  and  stretched 
themselves  into  the  territories  of  France.  They  were 
carried  across  the  Alps,  the  Pyrenean  mountains,  and 
through  the  whole  knigdoni  of  Spain.  Some  of  them 
towards  the  south,  reached  even  to  Ethiopia,  and  some 
of  them  towards  the  north,  extended  as  far  as  Scot- 
land. The  remains  of  several  of  them  continue  in 
England  to  this  day,  though  they  were  made,  it  is  pro- 
bable, above  ICOO  years  ago. 


the  placid  surface,  the  waves,  pushed  hastily 
to  the  bank,  bear  oft'  in  broken  fragments 
the  liquid  landscape.  The  spreading  circles 
seemed  to  prophesy,  as  they  rolled,  and  pro- 
nounced the  pleasures  of  this  present  state 
— the  pomp  of  power,  the  charm  of  beauty, 
and  the  echo  of  fame — pronounced  them 
transient,  as  their  speedy  passage ;  empty, 
as  their  unreal  freight.  Seemed  to  pro- 
phesy !  It  was  more,  imagination  heard  them 
utter,  as  they  ran. 
Thus  pass  the  shadowy  scenes  of  life  away  ! 

Emerging  from  this  fluid  alley,  they  dart 
amidst  the  level  of  a  spacious  meadow. 
The  eye,  lately  immured,  though  in  pleasur- 
able confinement,  now  expands  her  delight- 
ed view  into  a  space  almost  boundless,  and 
amidst  objects  little  short  of  innumerable. 
Transported  for  a  while  at  the  numberless 
variety  of  beauteous  images  poured  ui  sweet 
confusion  all  around,  she  hardly  knows 
where  to  fix,  or  which  to  pursue.  Recov- 
ering at  length  from  the  pleasing  perplexi- 
ty, she  glances,  quick  and  instantaneous, 
across  all  the  intermediate  plain,  and  marks 
the  distant  mountains  ;  how  cliflfs  climb 
over  cliflfs,  till  the  huge  ridges  gain  upon  the 
sky;  how  their  diminished  tops  are  dress- 
ed in  blue,  or  wrapped  in  clouds  :  while  all 
their  leafy  structures,  and  uU  their  fleecy 
tenants,  are  lost  in  air. 

Soon  she  quits  these  aerial  summits,  and 
ranges  the  russet  heath  ;  here  shagged  with 
brakes,  or  tufted  with  rushes  ;  there  inter- 
spersed with  straggling  thickets  or  solitary 
trees,  which  seem,  like  disaflTected  partizans, 
to  shim  each  other's  shade.  A  spire,  plac- 
ed in  a  remote  valley,  peeps  over  the  hills. 
Sense  is  surprised  at  the  amusive  appear- 
ance ;  is  ready  to  suspect  that  the  column 
rises,  like  some  enchanted  edifice,  from  the 
rifted  earth.  But  reason  looks  upon  it  as 
the  earnest  of  a  hidden  vale,  and  the  sure 
indication  of  an  adjacent  town :  perform- 
ing in  this  respect,  much  the  same  oflice  to 
the  eye  as  faith  executes  with  regard  to  the 
soul,  when  it  is  "  the  evidence  of  things  not 
seen."  Heb.  xi.  1. 

Next  she  roves,  with  increasing  pleasure, 
over  spacious  tracts  of  fertile  glebe,  and  cul- 
tured fields,  where  cattle  of  every  graceful 
form,  and  every  valuable  quality,  crop  the 
tender  herb,  or  drink  the  crystal  rills.  Anon, 
she  dwells  with  the  utmost  complacency  on 
towns  of  opulence  and  splendour,  which 
spread  the  sacred  dome,  and  lift  the  social 
roof;  towns  no  longer  surrounded  with  the 
stern  forbidding  majesty  of  unpassable  en- 
trenchments, and  impregnable  ramparts  ; 
but  encircled  with  the  delicate,  the  inviting 
appendages  of  gardens  and  orchards  ;  those 
decked  with  all  the  soft  graces  of  art  and 
elegance,  these  blushing  and  pregnant  with 
the  more  substantial  treasures  of  fruitful 
natm-e.      Wreaths  of  ascending  smoke    in- 


DIALOGUE  XVII. 


451 


termingled  with  turrets  and  lofty  pinnacles, 
seem  to  contend  which  shall  get  farthest 
from  the  earth,  and  nearest  to  the  skies. 
Happy  for  the  inhabitants,  if  sucli  was  the 
habitual  tendency  of  their  desires!*  if  no 
other  contention  was  known  in  their  streets. 

Villas,  elegant  and  magnificent,  seated  in 
the  centre  of  an  ample  park,  or  removed  to 
the  extremity  of  a  lengthened  lawn,  not  far 
from  a  beautiful  reservoir  of  standing  wa- 
ters, or  the  more  salutary  lapse  of  a  limpid 
sti-eam.  Villages,  clad  in  homely  tliatch, 
and  lodged  in  the  iiosoin  of  clusU'riiig  trees. 
Rustics,  singing  at  their  works  ;  shepherds 
tuning  their  pipes,  as  they  tend  their  flocks  ; 
travellers  pursuing  each  his  respective  way, 
in  easy  and  joyous  security. 

How  pleasing,  said  Aspasio,  is  our  si- 
tuation !  How  delightful  is  the  aspect  of  all 
things  !  One  would  almost  imagine  that  no- 
thing could  exceed  it,  and  that  nothing  can 
increase  it.  Yet  there  is  a  method  of  in- 
creasing even  this  copious  delight,  and  of 
heightening  even  this  exquisite  pleasure. — 
Let  me  desire  my  friend,  answered  Theron, 
to  explain  his  remark  ;  and  not  only  to  ex- 
plain, but  to  exemplify — If  we  view,  re- 
sumed Aspasio,  our  own  piosjierous,  and 
compare  it  with  the  afilicted  condition  of 
others,  the  method  I  propose  will  be  re- 
duced to  practice.  Such  a  dark  and  mourn- 
ful contrast  must  throw  additional  bright- 
ness, even  upon  the  brif,'htebt  scene. 

Above,  the  skies  smile  with  serenity;  be- 
low, the  fields  look  gay  with  ])lenty  ;  all 
aiound  the  sportive  gales 

Fanniiif;  tlieir  odoriferous  wings,  dispense 
Native  perfiiniss:  and  whisper,  whence  they  etole 
Those  balmy  spoils.f 


•  This  comnnrison,  I  think,  cannot  appear  vulg.ir 
to  thosa  persons  wlio  have  read,  and  who  rtvcrence 
the  booli  I'f  Can:icles.  There  tlie  church,  ascending; 
rontinually  in  devout  alfectioiis  to  her  beloved  Jesus 
and  toiler'  heavenly  home,  is  characterised  by  this 
very  similitude.  WIio  is  lliis  tliat  conieth  out  of  t!ic 
wilderness  like  pillars  of  smoke  ?  C  nt.  iii.G.  Though 
it  must  !;»  confessed,  tluit  this  similitude,  like  many 
of  the  illustrations  used  in  scripture,  might  have  a 
sort  of  local  propriety  peculiar  to  the  people  of  that 
age,  country,  and  religion.  U  might  probably  refer 
to  those  coluMinsofsmoke  which  arose  from  tlie  burnt 
ottering,  or  fumed  from, the  altar  of  incense.  If  so, 
tliis  circumstance  must  give  a  solemnity  and  dignity 
to  tlie  idea,  of  which  many  readersarejiotatall  aware, 
an<l  which  indeed  no  modern  reader  can  fully  con- 
cei  ve. 

May  I  take  leave  to  mention  anotlier  comparison  of 
this  kind  .'  "  The  enemies  of  the  Lord  shall  consume 
as  the  fat  of  lambs ;  yea,  even  as  the  smoke  shall  they 
consume  .iway,"  Psalm  xxxvii.  20.  As  the  f.it  of  lambs, 
is  not  to  us  a  striking  representation,  liut  to  tliose 
who  attended'the  allar,  who  saw  the  unctuous  and 
most  conbiistible  parts  of  the  victim  blazing  in  the 
sacred  lire,  it  presented  a  very  lively  image,  which 
was  still  more  ajiposite  and  significant,  if  tliis  psalm 
was  sung  while  the  sacrifice  was  burning.  None,  I 
believe,  in  such  a  case,  could  forbear  either  otiserv- 
uig  or  admiring  the  beautiful  gradation,  "  They  shall 
perish  as  yonder  fat  which  is  so  easily  set  on  fire,  and 
when  once  In  a  flame,  is  so  speedily  consumed.  Nay, 
they  shall  be  as  the  smoke,  which  Is  still  more  tran- 
sient, whose  light  unsubstantial  wreaths  but  just  make 

their  appearance  to  the  eye,  and  In  anioment  vanish   yent  the  mortification's  fatal  spread.    Some, 
juU>  empty  air."  i  '  - 

tMilton,    book  4. 


With  US,  all  circumstances  are  as  easy  as 
the  wafture  of  the  boat ;  as  smooth  as  the 
flow  of  the  stream.  But  let  us  not  forget 
those  grievous  calamities  which  liefal  our 
brethren  in  some  remote  tracts  of  the  earth, 
or  distant  parts  of  the  ocean.  How  many 
sailors  are  struggling,  vainly  struggling,  with 
all  the  fury  of  rending  winds  and  dashing 
waves  !  while  their  ve?sel,  flung  to  and  fro 
by  tempestuous  billows,  is  mounted  into 
the  clouds,  or  pluiit!:ed  in  the  aliyss.  Pos- 
sibly the  miserable  crew  hear  their  knell 
sounded  in  the  shattered  mast,  and  see  de- 
struction entering  at  the  bursting  planks. 
Perhaps  this  very  moment  they  pour  the 
last,  dismal,  dying  shriek  ;  and  sink,  irre- 
coverably sink,  in  the  all-overwhelming 
surge. — The  traveller,  in  Africa's  barren 
wastes,  pale  even  amidst  those  glowing  re- 
gions, pale  with  prodigious  consternation, 
sees  sudden  and  surprising  mountains  rise  ; 
sees  the  sultry  desert  ascending  the  sky,  and 
sweeping  before  the  whirlwind.  ^Vhat  can 
he  do?  whither  fly?  how  escape  the  ap- 
proaching ruin  ?  Alas  !  while  he  attempts  to 
rally  his  thoughts,  attempts  to  devise  some 
feeble  expedient,  he  is  overtaken  by  the 
choking  storm,  and  suffocated  amidst  the 
sandy  inundation.  The  driving  heaps  are 
now  his  executioner,  as  the  drifted  heaps 
will  soon  be  his  tomb. 

While  we  possess  the  valuable  privileges, 
and  taste  the  delicious  sweets  of  liberty, 
how  many  partakers  of  our  common  nattire 
are  condemned  to  perpetual  exile,  or  chain- 
ed to  the  oar  for  life  !  How  many  are  iin- 
tntiied  in  the  gloom  of  dungeons,  or  buried 
in  the  caverns  of  the  mines,  never  to  behold 
the  all-enlivening  sun  again  !  While  respect 
waits  upon  our  persons,  and  reputation  at- 
tends our  characters,  are  there  not  some  un- 
happy creatures,  led  forth  by  the  hand  of 
vindictive  justice,  to  be  spectacles  of  hor-. 
ror  and  moimments  of  vengeance  ?  sentenc- 
ed, for  their  enormous  crimes,  to  be  broke 
limb  by  limb  on  the  wheel,  or  to  be  impal- 
ed alive  on  the  lingering  stake.  To  these, 
the  strangling  cord,  or  the  deadly  stab, 
would  be  a  most  welcome  favour ;  but  they 
must  feel  a  thousand  deaths,  in  undergoing 
one.  And  this,  too  probably,  is  but  the 
beginning  of  their  sorrows — will  only  con- 
sign them  over  to  infinitely  more  terrible 
torment. 

While  ease  and  pleasure,  in  sweet  con- 
junction, smooth  our  paths,  and  soften  our 
couch,  how  many  are  tossing  on  the  fever's 
fiery  bed,  or  toiling  along  afllictioii's  thorny 
road  !  Some  under  the  excruciating  but 
necessary  operations  of  surgery  ;  their  bo- 
dies ripped  open,  with  a  dreadful  incision, 
to  search  for  the  torturing  stone  ;  or  their 
limbs,  lopt  off"  by  the  bloody  knife,  to  pre - 


emaciated  by  pining  sickness,  are  deprived 


452 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


oFall  llieii-  animal  vigour,  and  transformed 
into  spectres,  even  before  their  dissolution.* 
These  are  ready  to  adopt  the  complaint  of 
the  Psalmist  :  "  I  am  witliered  like  the 
grass :  my  bones  are  burnt  up,  as  it  were  a 
firebrand  ;  I  go  hence  like  the  shadow  tluit 
departeth."  While  health,  that  staple 
blessing,  which  gives  every  other  entertain- 
ment its  flavour  and  its  beauty,  adds  rhe 
gloss  to  all  we  see,  and  the  gout  to  all  we 
taste  ;  health  plays  at  our  hearts,  dances  in 
our  spirits,  and  mantles  in  our  cheeks,  as 
the  generous  champaign  lately  sparkled  in 
oin-  glass. 

We  are  blessed  with  a  calm  possession 
of  ourselves  :  with  tranquillity  in  our  con- 
sciences, and  an  habitual  harmony  in  onr 
temper  !  whereas  many,  in  the  doleful  cells 
of  lunacy,  are  gnashing  their  teeth,  or  wring- 
ing their  hands  ;  rending  the  air  with  vol- 
lies  of  horrid  execrations,  or  burdening  it 
with  peals  of  disconsolate  sighs.  And  O  ! 
what  multitudes,  even  amidst  courts  and 
j)alaces,  are  held  in  splendid  vassalage  by 
their  own  domineering  passions,  or  the 
vanities  of  a  bewitching  world  !  far  less  in- 
nocently, far  more  deplorably  disordered, f 
than  the  fettered  madman,  they  are  gnaw- 
ed by  the  envenomed  tooth  of  envy ;  they 
are  agitated  by  the  wild  sallies  of  ambition  ; 
or  feel  the  malignant  ulcer  of  jealousy  rank- 
ling in  their  breasts.  In  some,  avarice,  like 
a  ravening  harpy,  gripes  :  In  some,  revenge, 
like  an  implacable  fury,  rages  :  While 
others  are  goaded  by  lordly  and  imperious 
lusts,  through  the  loathsome  sewers  of  im- 
pure delight ;  and  left,  at  last,  in  those  hat- 
ed and  execrable  dens,  where  remorse  rears 
her  snaky  crest,  and  infamy  sharpens  her 
hissing  tongue 

Why  this  long  pause  ?  replied  Theron. 
Your  observations  are  as  useful  as  they  are 
just.  We  should  all  be  acquainted,  at  least 
in  speculation  acquainted,  with  grief;  and 
send  our  thoughts,  if  not  our  feet,  to  visit 
the  abodes  of  sorrow ; — that  in  this  school  we 
maylearnasympathisingpity  forour  distress- 
ed fellow-creatures  ;  and  see  in  this  glass  oui' 
inexpressible  obligations  to  the  distinguish- 
ing goodness  of  Providence,  which  has 
crowned  our  table  with  abundance,  and  re- 


»  A  very  littleexcursion  of  thought  will  easily  con- 
vince the  reader,  that  there  is  no  period  of  time,  in 
which  some  of  these  calamities  do  not  bcfal  our  fel- 
low-creatures, in  one  part  of  the  world  or  another. 

t  Give  me  any  plague,  says  an  apocryphal  writer, 
but  the  plague  of  my  heart,  Ecdus.  xxv.  13.  Upon 
which  judicious  and  weighty  ppothcgm,  Masinissa's 
speech  in  Mr.  Thomson's  Sophonisba,  is  a  very  per- 
tinent and  afl'ecting  paraphrase  ; 

O  !  save  me  from  the  tumult  of  the  soul ! 

From  the  wild  beast  within  ! — Vox  circling  sands, 

When  theswiftlwhirlwind'whehnsithern  o'erthe lands ; 

The  roaring  deeps,  that  to  the  clouds  arise. 

While  thwarting  thick  the  mingled  lightning  flies; 

The  monster -brood,  to  which  this  land  gives  birth. 

The  blazing  city,  and  the  gaping  earth. 

All  deaths,  all  tortures  in  one  pang  combined, 

Axe  gentle  to  the  tempest  of  the  mind  ! 


plenished  our  cup  with  delicacies  ;  permit- 
ting neither  penury  to  stint  the  draught,  nor 
adversity  to  mingle  her  gall.  Go  on,  I  must 
entreat  you,  with  yom-  description  of  com- 
parative felicity.  We  have  a  large  circuit 
still  to  make,  before  we  arrive  at  our  intend- 
ed port ;  and  1  could  wish,  that  your  dis- 
course  might  keep  pace  with  the  current. 

Since  you  approve  the  subject,  answered 
Aspasio,  I  will  pursue  it  a  little  farther — 
We,  the  inhabitants  of  this  favourite  isle, 
breathe  an  air  of  the  most  agreeable  tem- 
perature, and  most  wholesome  qualities. 
But  how  many  nations  languish  under  braz- 
en skies,  vaulted  as  it  were  with  fire  !  They 
welter  amidst  those  furnaces  of  the  sun,  till 
their  "  visage  is  burnt,  and  as  black  as  a 
coal."  Lam.  iv.  8.  What  is  far  more  dis- 
astrous, beds  of  sulj)hur.  and  combustible 
materials  lie  in  subterraneous  ambush,  ready 
to  spring  the  irresistible  mine  ;  ere  long, 
perhaps,  on  some  day  of  universal  festivity,* 
or  in  some  night  of  deep  repose,  to  be 
touched  by  heaven's  avenging  hand.  Then 
with  what  outrageous  violence  will  they 
burst  !  rock  the  foundations  of  nature ! 
wrench  open  the  ponderous  jaws  of  the 
earth  I  and  swallow  up  astonished  cities  in 
the  dark,  tremendous,  closing  chasm  ! 

These  earthquakes,  it  may  be,  both  pre- 
cede and  portend  "the  pestilence  that  walk- 
eth  in  darkness,  and  the  sickness  that  de- 
stroyeth  at  noon-day,"  Psal.  xci.  6,  They 
are,  at  once,  a  fearful  omen  and  a  ruinous 
blow.  The  stagnating  atmosphere,  rank  with 
malignant  vapours,  becomes  a  source  of 
deadly  infection  ;  or,  replete  with  poisonous 
animalculte,  is  one  vast  incumbent  cloud  of 
living  bane.  If  the  active  gales  arise,  they 
arise  only  to  stir  the  seeds  of  disease,  and 
difi'use  the  fatal  contagion  far  and  near.  Un- 
happy people  1  The  j)lague,  that  severer  mi- 
nister of  divine  indignation,  fixes  her  head- 
quarters in  their  blasted  provinces ;  and 
sends  death  abroad  "on  his  pale  horse," 
Rev.  vi.  8,  to  empty  their  houses,  depopulate 
their  towns  and  crowd  their  graves. 

Our  island  is  seldom  visited  with  either 
of  these  dreadful  judgments  ;  and  has  never 
sustained  any  very  considerable  calamity  from 


*  There  is  a  remakable  passage  in  Psal.  Iviii.  9, 
which  seems  to  denote  some  such  unexpected,  but 
speedy  and  inevitable  doom.  The  sense  is  darkenetl 
not  a  little  by  the  version  admitted  into  our  liturgy. 
I  believe  the  true  translation  may  be  seen  in  the  follow- 
ing, and  the  true  meaning  learned  from  the  interwoven 
paraphrase. — "  Speedily,  or  before  your  pots  can  per- 
ceive the  warmth  of  blazing  thorns,  shall  he  that  rul- 
eth  over  all  sweep  away  the  wicked  ;  sweep  him  away 
by  a  stroke  of  righteous  indignation,  as  by  a  fierce 
and  mighty  tempest ;  so  that,  even  from  the  fulness 
of  his  sufficiency,  and  the  height  of  his  prosperity,  he 
shall  be  plunged  into  utter  destruction. — The  Hebrew 
word,  which  is  veryiniliappily  rendered  raw,  signifies 
a  state  of  prosperity  or  pleasurable  enjoyment,  1  Sam. 
xxv.  6.  The  whole  verse,  in  a  gradation  of  striking 
images,  gives  us  a  most  awful  display  of  divine  ^en- 
geance;  vengeance  quitesadden,  utterly  irresistible, 
and  overtakmg  the  secure  sinner,  amidst  all  the  ca- 
resses of  what  the  world  calls  fortune. 


DIALOGUE  XVII. 


453 


he  former.  However,  let  us  not  be  presump- 
tuously secure.  We  have  not  long  ago  receiv- 
ed ail  iiwful  warning.  The  road  has  been 
shaken  ;  or  rather  the  sword  has  been  bran- 
dished over  our  territories-  Who  can  for- 
get the  general  consternation  which  seized 
our  metropolis  on  occasion  of  the  late  earth- 
quake ?  And  not  without  reason :  For,  of 
all  divine  visitations,  this  is  the  most  ter- 
ribly vindictive.  The  whirlwind  is  slow  in 
its  progress,  war  is  gentle  in  its  assaults,  even 
the  raging  pestilence  is  a  mild  rebuke,  com- 
pared with  the  inevitable,  the  all-overwhelm- 
ing fury  of  an  earthquake.  When  it  begins, 
It  alst)  makes  an  end,  1  Sam.  iii.  12,  puts  a 
period,  in  a  few  minutes,  to  the  work  of  ages, 
ruins  all  without  distinction;  and  there  is 
no  defence  from  the  destructive  stroke. 

Should  Almighty  vengeance  stir  up  again 
those  fierce  subterranean  commotions ; 
should  the  Rlost  High  God  bid  strong  con- 
vulsions tear  the  bowels  of  nature,  and  make 
the  foundations  of  the  world  tremble  like  a 
leaf ;  what  "  O  ye  careless  ones,"  Isaiah 
xxxii.  1 1,  what  will  you  do  ?  whither  will  you 
ily  ?  See  !  the  pavement  sinks  under  your 
feet.  Your  houses  are  tottering  over  your 
heads.  The  ground,  on  every  side,  cracks 
and  opens  like  a  gaping  grave ;  or  heaves 
and  swells  like  a  rolling  sea.  "  A  noise  of 
crashing,"  Zeph.  i.  10,  is  heard  from  with- 
out, occasioned  by  the  rending  streets,  and 
falling  structures.  Thunders,  infernal  thun- 
ders," bellow  from  beneath,  mingled  with 
despairing  shrieks  and  dying  groans  from 
those  wretched  creatures,  who  are  jammed 
between  the  closing  earth,  or  going  down 
alive  into  the  horrible  pit.f     Where  now 


♦  Before  the  overthrow  of  Catania  by  an  earth- 
quake, a  noise  was  heard,  vast  and  horrid,  as  if  all 
the  artillery  in  the  world  was  discharged  at  once. 

t  Very  memorable,  and  equally  tremendous,  is  the 
account  of  the  earthciuake,  that  visited  .Sicily,  in  the 
year  lt)!)3.^1t  shook  the  whole  island  The  mischief 
It  caused  is  amazing.  Fifty-four  cities  .md  towns, 
besides  an  incredible  number  of  villages,  were  cither 
demolished,  or  greatly  damaged.  Catania,  one  of  the 
most  fanu)us  and  flourishing  cities  in  the  king<loni, 
was  entirely  destroyed.  Of  18,yi4  inhabitants,  l(i  00(1 
perished. 

Another  earthnuake,  almost  as  dreadful,  and  in  the 
same  year,  spread  desolation  through  the  colony  of 
J.imaica.  In  two  minutes  time,  it  shook  down,  and 
laid  under  water,  nine  tenths  of  the  town  of  Port- 
Uoyal.  In  less  than  a  minute,  three  quarters  of  the 
houses,  and  the  ground  they  stood  on,  together  with 
the  inhabitants,  were  quite  sunk;  and  the  little  ))art 
left  behind  was  no  better  than  heaps  of  rubbish. 
The  shock  was  so  violent,  that  it  threw  people  down 
ui)on  their  knees  or  their  faces,  as  they  were  running 
about  for  shelter.  The  ground  heaved  and  swelled 
like  a  rolling  sea;  and  several  houses,  still  standing, 
were  shuilled  some  yards  out  of  their  places.  The 
earth  would  crack  and  yawn;  would  open  and  shut, 
(luick  and  fast.  Of  which  horrid  openings,  two  or 
three  hundred  might  be  seen  at  once.  In  sonii' 
whereof,  the  people  went  down  and  were  seen  no 
more.  In  some  they  descended,  and  rose  again  in 
other  streets,  or  in  the  middle  of  the  harlK)ur.  Some 
swiftly  closing,  seized  the  miserable  creatures,  and 
pvi'ssed  them  to  death;  leaving  their  lieads  or  half 
tlu  ir  bodies  above  ground,  lo  br  a  spectacle  of  terror, 
and  a  prey  to  dogs.  Out  of  others  would  issue  whole 
rivirs  of  w.ater,  spoutcil  to  a  great  Iieight  in  the  iiir, 
and  threatening  a  deluge  to  tliat  pare  which    the 


will  you  fly  ?  To  your  strong  towers  ?  They 
were  shattered  in  pieces — To  the  strong 
rocks  ?  They  were  thrown  out  of  their  place. 
— To  the  open  fields  ?  They  are  a  frightful 
gulf,  yawning  to  devour  you.  Wherever 
you  fly  ;  in  the  wildness  of  your  distraction, 
wherever  you  seek  for  shelter ;  it  shall  be, 
"  as  if  a  man  fled  from  a  lion  and  a  bear 
met  him ;  or  went  into  the  house,  and  lean- 
ed his  hand  upon  the  wall,  and  a  serpent 
bit  him."     Amos  v.  19. 

Yet  there  is  one  place  of  refuge,  which 
will  prove  an  inviolable  sanctuary,  and  a 
perfect  security.  I  mean,  the  great,  the 
gracious,  the  adorable  Redeemer's  right- 
eousness. Hither  let  us  betake  ourselves. 
Now,  before  the  day  of  desolation  cometh, 
let  us  betake  ourselves  to  this  stronghold. 
Then  shall  we  have  no  reason  to  fear,  though 
the  earth  be  moved,  and  though  the  hills 
be  carried  into  the  midst  of  the  sea.  For 
thus  saith  God,  the  omnipotent  and  faith- 
ful God  :  "  The  sun  and  the  moon  sh.all  be 
darkened,  and  the  stars  shall  withdraw  their 
shining.  The  Lord  also  shall  roar  out  oF 
Zion,  and  utter  his  voice  from  .Jerusalem. 
The  heavens  and  the  earth  shall  shake  ;  but 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  will  be  the  hope  of 
his  people,  and  the  strength  of  the  children 
of  "Israel."  Joel  iii.  15,  16.  Or,  if  the 
true  believer  is  involved  in  the  same  undis- 
tinguished ruin  with  the  ungodly,  even  this 
shall  turn  to  his  gain.  It  shall  exempt  him 
from  the  lingering  i)ains  and  the  melancholy 
solemnities  of  a  dying  bed.  Like  Elijah's 
fiery  chariot,  it  shall  speedily  waft  his  soid 
to  the  bosom  of  his  Saviour ;  while  the  hi- 
deous cavern,  that  whelms  his  body  in  the 
centre,  shall  be  its  chamber  of  rest  till  the 
beloved  Bridegroom  comes,  and  the  day  of 
resurrection  dawns. 

We  lift  up  our  eyes,  and  behold  the  ra- 
diant colours  which  flush  the  forehead  of 
the  morning;  we  turn,  and  gaze  upon  the 
no  less  beautiful  tinges,  which  impurple  the 
cheek  of  evening.  We  throw  arouiid  our 
view,  and  are  delighted  with  numberless 
forms  of  fertility,  which  both  decorate  and 
enrich  our  plains  ;  whereas,  other  countries 
are  over-run  with  immense  swarms  of  lo- 
custs, which  intercept,  wherever  they  fly, 
the  fair  face  of  day  ;  and  destroy,  wherever 
they  alight,  the  green  treasures  of  the 
ground. 

Ah!  what  avails  it,  that  the  laborious  hind 
sows   his  acres,  or  the  skilful    husbandman 


earthquake  spared.  Scarce  a  planting-house  or  sugar- 
work  was  left  standing  In  all  the  island.  Two  thou- 
sand lives  were  lost,  and  a  thousand  acres  of  land 
sunk.  The  whole  was  attende<l  with  frightful  noises, 
with  brimstone  blasts,  and  oftensivo  smells.  The 
noisiime  vapours  belched  forth,  corrupted  the  air, 
and  brought  on  a  general  sickness;  which  swept 
aw.iy  moie  than  three  thousand  of  those  who  cscajied 
the  fury  of  the  earthquake.  See  Chamu.  Diet,  an 
the  word  Ki.ii(fiquuke. 


4,54 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


prunes  his  vineyard  ?  that  spring,  with  her 
prohfic  moisture,  swells  the  bud ;  or,  with 
her  delicate  pencil,  paints  the  blossom  ?  Nor 
grain,  nor  fruit,  can  hope  for  maturity,  while 
these  rapacious  and  baleful  creatures  infest 
the  neighbourhood.  They  ravage  the  gardens. 
They  strip  the  trees,  and  shave  the  mea- 
dows. Scarce  a  single  leaf  remains  on  the 
boughs,  or  so  much  as  a  single  stalk  in  the 
furrows.  "A  fire  devoureth  before  them, 
and  behind  them  a  flame  burneth  ;  the  land 
is  as  the  garden  of  Eden  before  them,  and 
behind  them  a  desolate  wilderness  ;  yea,  and 
nothing  can  escape  them."  Joel  ii.  3.* 

Now,  let  the  dreadful  artillery  roar  from 
all  its  iron  throats,  and  disgorge  the  heaviest 
glut  of  mortal  hail.  Now,  ye  sons  of  slaugh- 
ter, men  "skilful  to  destroy," Ezek.  xxi-  31, 
now  hurl  the  sulphureous  globes,  which  kin- 
dle into  a  hurricane  of  fire,  and  burst  in  rag- 
ged instruments  of  ruin — To  no  purpose. 
The  linked  thunderbolts  are  turned  into 
stubble,  the  bursting  bombs  are  accounted 
as  straw.  These  armies  of  the  air  laugh  at 
ill!  the  formidable  preparations  of  war  ;  "and 
when  they  fall  on  the  sword,  they  shall  not 
be  wotiiKie(i."f  Surprising  and  awful  des- 
tination of  the  everlasting  God  !  at  once  to 
Ktain  the  pride  and  chastise  the  guilt  of 
man  !  These  are  a  despicable  and  puny 
riicc-;  cl;id  i-i  no  coat  of  mail,  but  crushed 
by  ihe  slightest  touch.  They  wear  neither 
swuid  nor  scimitar,  nor  any  offensive  wea- 
j)on  :  Yot,  in  spite  of  opposing  legions,  they 
carry  on  their  depredations,  and  push  their 
conquests.  Terror  marches  in  their  front, 
and  famine  brings  up  the  rear.  They  spread 
universal  devastation  as  they  advance  ;  and 
frequently  give  the  signal  for  the  pestilence 
Tofollow.  Potentarmies  lose  their  hands,  and 
haughty  tyrants  tremble  for  their  dominions. 
O  that  the  natives  of  Great  Britain  would 
bethink  thmselves  !  would  break  off  their 
sins  by  righteousness,  and  their  iniqu'ties 

•  A  fire  devoureth  before  them,  and  beliind  them 
aflame  burneth.  This  is  one  of  those  bold  and  exjirts- 
sive  metanhois,  in  which  the  Hebrew  language  de- 
lights, and  by  which  it  is  eminently  distinguished.  It 
signifies  a  total  devastation  of  the  vegetable  j)io<luce  ; 
such  as  must  ensue,  if  a  raging  and  resisilcss  fire  at- 
tended the  progress  of  these  pernicious  animals;  burn- 
ing with  such  vehement  impetuosity,  that  none  could 
quench  it;  spreading  such  extensive  havoc,  that  no- 
thing could  escape  it. 

t  The  prophet  Joel,  foretelling  the  plague  of  locusts, 
gives,  under  the  image  of  an  embattled  host,  a  most 
alarming  display  of  their  terrible  appearance;  their 
impetuous  progress ;  the  horrible  dread  they  raise, 
as  they  advance;  and  the  irreparable  mischief  they 
leave,  as  they  depart ;  adding,  among  other  ampzing 
circumstances,  When  they  fall  upon  the  sword,  they 
shall  not  be  wounded.  Which  implies,  I  apprehend, 
that  no  method  of  slaughter  should  prove  destructive 
to  their  troops;  or,  that  every  expedient,  contrived 
for  their  suppression,  should  be  utterly  baffled  ;  be- 
ing, through  their  immense  numljers,  as  invincible, 
as  if  every  one  was  absolutely  invulnerable.  For, 
though  milhons  and  millions  should  perish  by  the 
weapons  of  war;  even  such  blow,  in  reference  to 
their  whole  collecti  vebody,  should  scarce  be  perceived 
as  a  loss,  scarce  be  felt  as  a  wound  ;  neither  diminish- 
ing their  strength,  uor  retarding  their  march,  Joel.  ii.  8. 


by  cherishing  the  influences  of  the  divine 
Spirit  !  lest  this  "  overflowing  scourge," 
under  |which  some  neighbouring  kingdoms 
have  severely  smarted,  should  be  commis- 
sioned to  visit  our  borders,  and  avenge  the 
quarrel  of  its  Maker's  honour.  Distant  as 
those  countless  legions  are,  with  interposing 
seas  between  ;  yet,  if  God  lift  up  a  stand- 
ard from  far,  or  but  hiss*  unto  them  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  "they  come  with 
speed  swiftly,"  Who  will  convey  this  wish 
to  the  ears,  who  will  transmit  it  to  the 
hearts  of  my  countrymen  ?  that  our  land 
may  always  appear  as  it  does  at  present, 
like  the  darling  of  Providence  ;  may  alway.s 
resound  with  the  voice  of  joy,  and  ()e  filled 
with  the  fruits  of  plenty ;  may  always  wear 
the  robe  of  beauty,  and  be  adorned  with 
the  smile  of  peace. 

How  great  are  the  advantages  of  peace  ! 
said  Theron.  Peace,  at  her  leisure,  plans, 
and  leads  our  industry  to  execute,  all  the 
noble  and  commodious  iinprovements,  which 
we  behold  cm  every  side.  Peace  sets  the 
mark  of  propt^rty  on  our  possessions,  and 
bids  justice  guarantee  them  to  our  enjoy- 
ment. Peace  s[)i-eads  over  us  the  banner 
of  the  laws,  while  we  taste,  free  from  out- 
rage, anfl  sectnc  from  injuiy,  the  milk  and 
honey  of  our  honest  toil.f — Amidst  the  tu- 
multuous confusions  of  war,  who  could  h;ive 
a  heart  to  coiiiive,  or  a  hand  toaccomplish, 
any  such  woiks  of  dignity  and  use?  In 
those  days  of  darkness  atid  distraction,  how 
languid  to  the  sight  are  all  the  dewy  lau'' 
scapes  of  s])riMg  ?  How  insipid  to  the  ta 
are  all   the   di-licious  flavours   of  atitui 


»  "  Hiss  unto  them,"  Isa.  v.  26.  With  great  signi- 
ficancy,  and  peculiar  grandeur,  the  prophet  applies 
this  expression  to  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts  influencing 
the  most  powerful  armies;  q.  d.  They  come  without 
a  moment's  delay,  and  from  the  remotest  regions  of 
the  earth,  to  execute  all  his  pleasure.  Formidable 
and  innumerable  as  they  are,  they  come,  I  say  not  up- 
on his  repeate  I  injunctions,  or  at  his  strict  command, 
but  at  the  first,  the  very  smallest  intimation  of  his 
will  ;  such  as  the  sl:i  phcrds  use  to  their  flocks,  such 
as  the  bee-me  1,  of  old,  to  their  swarms;  orsuchaswe 
in  these  days  to  some  of  our  domestic  animals.  The 
Hebrew  word  I  would  not  translate,  at  his  whis  le: 
because  this  )>hrase,  in  our  language,  creates  a  vulgar 
sound,  and  conveys  a  low  idea;  but  such  is  the  im- 
port of  the  original  ;  which  denotes  all  that  uncon- 
cerned ease  of  action,  without  any  of  the  offensive 
familiarity  of  diction. 

t  "  Pax  optima  rerum,"  says  the  Latin  poet.  But 
the  Orientals,  I  think,  discover  the  most  superlative 
esteem  for  this  blessing,  by  making  it  the  constant 
form  of  their  salutations,  and  the  subject  of  their 
most  cordial  wishes  for  their  friends  :  "  Peace  be  un- 
to thee."  In  this  short  sentence,  they  seem  to  have 
comprised  a  whole  volume  of  mercies  ;  meaning  by 
their  single  tJlbW  ■'"  ^^^^  ^^^  Greeks  expressed  by 
their  ^a(a£/v,  vyiaivsiv,  tvTpa.rriiy  ;  i-  e  a  conflu- 
ence of  that  joy  of  mind,  that  health  of  Iwdy,  that 
prosperity  of  outward  circumstances  which  complete 
the  happiness  of  mankind. 

We  have  a  fine  description  of  peace,  and  its  various 
blessings,  1  Maccab.  xiv.  8,  9,  &c.  The  picture  is 
very  exact,  though  perfectly  artless.  Nothing  should 
hinder  me  from  transcribing  the  passage,  but  a  fear 
of  being  too  diffusive  in  my  notes.  Lest  the  reader 
who  expects  a  treat,  should  complain  of  a  glut ;  or 
Iiave  reason  to  object,  that  the  sideboard  is  more  co- 
piously furuished  thau  the  table. 


DIALOGUE   XVI t. 


When  the  nation  is  overrun  with  armies, 
uiid  embroiled  in  shmjjhter,  "  a  trembling 
of  heart,  and  failing  of  eyes,  and  sonow  of 
mind,"  Dent,  xxviii.  65,  are  the  dismal 
distinction  of  the  times.  Instead  of  a  calm 
acquiescence  in  our  portion,  our  very  life 
hangs  in  continual  suspense. 

But  what  are  all  the  benefits  of  external 
peace,  though  displayed  in  the  fairest  light, 
and  enlivened  by  the  strongest  contrasts  ; 
what  are  they  all,  compared  with  the  bless- 
ings of  the  gospel  ?  by  which  sinners  may 
have  "  peace  with  God  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord  !" 

This,  resumed  Aspasio,  suggests  a  fresh 
instance  of  happiness,  which  others  want, 
and  we  possess ;  an  instance  never  to  be 
omitted  in  our  catalogue  of  peculiar  mercies; 
I  might  add,  never  to  be  forgotten  by  any 
Christian  on  any  occasion.  While  many 
kingdoms  of  the  earth  are  ignorant  of  the 
true  God,  and  know  neither  the  principles 
of  piety,  nor  the  paths  of  felicity ;  "  the  day- 
spring  from  on  high  hath  visited  us,  to  give 
the  knowledge  of  salvation,  and  to  guide  our 
feet  into  the  way  of  peace."  While  millions 
of  rebellious  angels,  cast  from  their  native 
thrones,  are  reserved  in  chains  of  darkness 
unto  the  judgment  of  the  great  day  ;  we, 
though  rebellious  and  apostate  sinners  of 
mankind,  are  delivered  from  the  wrath  to 
come.  The  holy  Jesus  (blessed  be  his  re- 
deeming goodness  !)  has  endured  the  cross, 
and  despised  the  shame,  on  purpose  to  re- 
scue us  from  those  doleful  and  ignominious 
dungeons,  where  the  prisoners  of  almighty 
vengeance 

Converse  with  groans, 

Unrespited,  unpitied,  unreprieved, 
Ages  of  hopeless  end.    Milton. 

Yes,  my  dear  Theron,  let  me  repeat  your 
own  important  words  :  "  What  are  all  the 
benefits  of  external  peace,  though  displayed 
in  the  fairest  light,  and  enlivened  by  the 
strongest  contrasts — what  are  they  all,  com- 
pared with  the  blessings  of  the  gospel?" 
This  brings  the  olive-branch  from  heaven, 
and  fjlad  tidings  of  reconciliation  with  our 
olTcndi'd  (iod.  This  comi)oses  the  tumult 
of  the  mind  ;  disarms  the  warring  passions  ; 
and  rtgulates  the  extravagant  desires.  This 
introduces  such  an  integrity  of  heart,  and 
benevolence  of  temper,  as  constitute  the 
health  of  the  soul.  This  spreads  such  an 
uniform  beauty  of  holiness  through  the  con- 
duct, as  is  far  more  amiable  than  the  most 
engaging  forms  of  material  nature. 

O  !  that  thou  wouldst  bow  the  heavens  ! 
that  thou  wouldst  come  down,  celestial  Vi- 
sitant, and  make  thy  stated,  thy  favourite 
abode  in  our  isle  !  that  every  breast  may  be 
animated  with  thy  power;  and  every  com- 
miniity,  cvi'iy  individual,  may  wear  thy  re- 
splentlent  badge  !  Thi'n  shall  it  be  the  least 
iiigiedieiit  of  our   [lublic   felicity,    that   the 


sword  of  slaughter  is  beaten  into  a  plough- 
share, and  the  once  bloody  spear  bent  into 
a  pruning  hodk.  It  shall  be  the  lnwcst  ni)on 
the  list  of  our  common  blessings,  that  "  vio- 
lence is  no  more  heard  in  our  land,  wastuig 
and  destruction  within  our  borders.  Our 
very  officers  will  be  peace,  and  our  exactors* 
righteousness.  We  shall  call"  (and  the 
event  will  correspond  with  the  name)  "  our 
walls  salvation,  and  our  gates  praise."  Then 
shall  every  harp  be  taken  down  from  the 
willows,  and  every  voice  burst  into  a  song. 
— "  In  other  climes" — will  be  the  general 
acclamation — . 

"  In  other  climes,  let  myriads  of  curious 
insects  spin  the  delicate  thread,  which  soft- 
ens into  velvet,  stiffens  into  brocade,  or  flows 
in  glossy  sattin  ;  which  reflects  a  lovelier 
glow  on  the  cheek  of  beauty,  and  renders 
royalty  itself  more  majestic.  We  are  pre- 
sented with  infinitely  finer  robes,  in  the  im- 
puted righteousness  of  our  Redeemer,  and 
the  inherent  sanctification  of  his  Spirit  ; 
which  beautify  the  \ery  soul,  and  prei)are  it 
for  the  illustrious  assembly — of  saints  in 
light — of  angels  in  glory. 

"  Let  eastern  rocks  si)arkle  with  diamonds, 
and  give  birth  to  gems  of  every  dazzling 
tincture.  We  have  hid  in  the  field  of  our 
Scriptures,  the  '  Pearl  of  great  price  ;  the 
white  and  precious  stone,'  Rev.  ii.  17,  of 
perfect  absolution  ;  a  diadem  which  will 
shine  with  undiminished  lustre,  when  all  the 
brilliant  wonders  of  the  mind  are  faded,  ex- 
tinguished, lost. 

"  Let  richer  soils  nourish  the  noblest 
plants,  and  warmer  suns  concoct  their  exqui- 
site juices  ; — the  lemon,  pleasingly  poignant; 
the  citron,  more  mildly  delicious  ;  or  that 
pride  of  vegetable  life,  and  compendium  of 
all  the  blandishments  of  taste,  the  pine-ap- 
ple. We  enjoy  far  more  exalted  dainties, 
in  having  access  to  the  "  Tree  of  life,  whose 
leaves  are  for  the  healing  of  the  nations," 
Rev.  xxii.  2,  whose  boughs  are  replenished 
with  a  never-failing  abundance  of  heavenly 
fruits  ;  and  the  nutriment  they  dispense  is 
bliss  and  immortality. 

"  Let  Iberian  vines  swell  the  translucent 
cluster,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of  generous 
wine:  let  the  Tuscan  olive  extract  the  fat- 


•  Isa.  Ix.  17-  Oflicers  and  exactors  sif^nify  persons 
vested  with  public  authority,  who  have  it  in  their 
power  to  rule  with  rigour.  But  these,  instead  of 
abusing  their  power,  shall  conduct  the  administration 
with  all  possible  equity  and  gentleness  ;  with  a  pater- 
nal tenderness,  rather  than  a  magisterial  austerity  ;  so 
that,  though  the  title  and  oftice  of  exactor  may  le- 
niain,  notliiiig  of  the  liDininiering  insolence,  or  op- 
pressive severity,  shall  continue.  The  prophet,  who 
always  delivers  his  sentiments  with  the  utmost  em- 
phasis, says,  They  shall  be,  not  Ijarely  peaceable  and 
righteous,  but  possessed  of  thesequalitiesin  the  high- 
est degree.  Or,  which  implies  more  than  any  woidi 
can  exiness,  they  shall  be  peace  and  righteousness  it- 
self.  The  same  lieautiful  figure  is  used  in  the  next 
clause,  which  descrilies  tlic  inviolable  security  of  the 
city,  together  with  the  universal  joy  and  piety  of  the 
inliabitunts. 


456 


THERON  AND  A6PASIO. 


ness  of  the  eaith,  and  melt  into  a  soft  mel- 
lifluous stream  -.  We  shall  neither  envy  nor 
covet  these  inferior  gifts,  so  long  as  we  may 
draw  water  out  of  the  wells  of  salvation  ;  so 
long  as  we  may  receive  that  unction  from 
the  Holy  One,"  1  John  ii.  20,  those  influen- 
ces of  the  Comforter,  which  not  only  make 
a  cheerful  countenance,  but  gladden  the  very 
heart ;  imparting  such  a  refined  satisfaction, 
as  the  whole  world  cannot  give — such  a  per- 
manent satisfaction,  as  no  calamities  can 
take  away. 

"  Let  Ethiopian  mountains  be  ribbed  with 
marble,  and  Peruvian  mines  embowelled 
with  gold :  We  want  neither  the  impene- 
trable quarry,  nor  the  glittering  ore  ;  having, 
in  our  adored  Messiah  a  sure  foundation  for 
all  our  eternal  hopes,  and  an  inexhaustible 
fund  of  the  divinest  richesi 

"  Be  it  so,  that  our  Isis  is  but  a  creeping 
drop,  and  the  Thames  itself  no  more  than  a 
scanty  rivulet,  compared  with  the  magnifi- 
cent sweep  of  the  Ganges,  or  the  stupen- 
dous amplitude  of  Rio  de  la  Plata.*  The 
wretched  natives,  even  on  the  banks  of  those 
stately  rivers,  are  at  a  distance  from  all  the 
springs  of  true  consolation  :  whereas  we 
have  a  fountain,  we  have  a  river,  that  issues 
from  the  ocean  of  eternal  love.  With  in- 
comparable dignity,  and  with  equal  proprie- 
ty, it  is  styled,  '  the  river  of  life.'  Rev. 
x.\ii.  1.  It  visits  the  house  of  the  mourner, 
and  revives  the  spirit  of  the  sorrowful.  It 
makes  glad  the  city,  and  makes  happy  the 
servants  of  our  God  :  It  quickens  even  the 
dead ;  and  every  human  creature  that  drinks 
of  its  water  lives  for  ever. 

"  Let  Asiatic  islands  boast  their  moun- 
tains of  myrrh,  and  hills  of  frankincense ; 
let  Arabian  groves,  with  a  superior  liberali- 
ty, distil  their  healing  gums,  and  ripen  for 
vigorous  operation  their  vital  drugs.  We 
have  a  more  sovereign  remedy  than  their 
most  powerful  restoratives,  in  the  great  Me- 
diator's atoning  blood  ;  we  have  a  more 
refreshing  banquet  than  all  their  mingled 
sweets,  in  commemorating  his  passion,  and 
participating  his  merits. 

"  In  short,  we  have  an  equivalent,  far 
more  than  an  equivalent,  for  all  those  choice 
productions  which  bloom  in  the  gardens,  or 
bask  in  the  orchards  of  the  sun.     We  have 


•  This  river  is  near  two  hundred  miles  broad,  where 
it  discharges  itself  into  the  sea.  It  pours  such  an  im- 
mense quantity  of  the  liquid  element  into  the  Atlantic 
Oce.m,  that  fresh  water  may  be  taken  up  for  the  space 
of  many  a  league.  It  continues  thus  amazingly  vast 
through  a  course  of  six  hundred  miles ;  when  it  di- 
vides into  two  mighty  branches,  the  Parana  and  the 
Paraguay,  which,  having  run  in  separate  channels, 
several  thousand  miles  along  the  country,  unite  at 
last,  and  form,  by  their  conflux,  this  magnificent  and 
spacious  stream,  which  is  supposed  to  be-the  largest 
in  the  world.  To  conceive  a  properidca  of  its  prodi- 
gious dimensions,  we  may  imagine  a  current  of  waters 
taking  its  rise  beyond  Jerusalem  ;  and,  after  having 
received  all  the  rivers  of  Europe  into  its  capacious 
betl,  making  its  entry  on  the  British  ocean,  by  a  mouth 
extended  from  IJovcr  to  Uristol. 


a  gospel,  rich  in  precious  privileges,  and 
abounding  with  inestimable  promises  :  we 
have  a  Saviour,  full  of  forgiving  goodness, 
and  liberal  of  renewing  grace ;  at  whose 
auspicious  approach,  fountains  spout  amidst 
the  burning  desart ;  under  whose  welcome 
footsteps,  the  sandy  waste  smiles  with  herb- 
age ;  and  beneath  his  potent  touch,  '  the 
wilderness  buds  and  blossoms  as  a  rose,' 
Isa.  XXXV.  1.  Or,  to  speak  more  plainly, 
the  desolate  and  barren  soul  brings  forth 
those  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  which  are  rnfinite- 
ly  more  ornamental  than  the  silken  gems  of 
spring;  infinitely  more  beneficial  than  the 
salubrious  stores  of  autumn. 

"  We  have  a  Saviour, — tell  it  out  among 
the  Heathen,  that  all  the  nations  on  earth 
may  partake  of  the  gift,  and  join  in  the  song 
— a  Saviour  we  have,  whose  radiant  eye 
brightens  the  gloomy  paths  of  affliction  ; 
whose  efficacious  blessing  makes  '  all  things 
work  together  for  the  good  of  his  people,' 
Rom.  viii.  28.  Death,  gilded  by  his  pro- 
pitious smile,  even  death  itself  looks  gay. 
Nor  is  the  grave,  under  his  benign  adminis- 
tration, any  longer  a  den  of  destruction,  but 
a  short  and  shady  avenue  to  those  immor- 
tal mansions,  whose  '  foinidations  are  laid 
with  sapphires  ;  whose  windows  are  of 
agate ;  the  gates  of  carbuncle  ;  and  all  the 
borders  of  pleasant  stones.'  "  Isa.  liv.  11,  12. 
Pardon  my  rhapsody,  dear  Theron. 
Your  own  remark,  added  to  the  grand  and 
lovely  views,  have  warmed,  have  animated, 
have  almost  transported  me — Theron  an- 
swered not  a  word,  but  seemed  fixed  in 
thought.  While  he  is  indulging  his  con- 
templation, we  may  just  observe  some  other 
peculiarities  of  the  prospect. 

Here  and  there,  a  lonesome  cottage  scarce- 
ly lifts  its  humble  head.  No  pompous  swell 
of  projecting  steps  surrounds  the  door  ;  no 
appcndent  wings  of  inferior  offices  skirt  the 
edifice ;  no  stately  hall,  slabbed  with  mar- 
ble, and  roofed  with  sculpture,  receives  the 
gazing  stranger :  but  young-eyed  Health, 
and  white-robed  Innocence,  with  sweet-fea- 
tured Contentment,  adorn  the  habitation  ; 
while  Virtue  lends  her  graces,  and  Religion 
communicates  her  honours,  to  dignify  the 
abode ;  rendering  the  blameless  hut  supe- 
rior in  real  majesty  to  a  dissolute  court. 

At  some  distance  appear  the  hoary  re- 
mains of  an  ancient  monastery.  Sunk  be- 
neath the  weight  of  revolving  yeais,  the 
once  venerable  fabric  is  levelled  with  the 
dust.  The  lofty  and  ornamented  tempk 
lies  rudely  overgrown  with  moss,  or  stil 
more  ignobly  covered  with  weeds.  Th( 
walls,  where  sainted  imagery  stood,  or  idol 
ized  painting  shone,  are  clasped  with  twin- 
ing ivy,  or  shagged  with  horrid  thorn. 
Through  aisles,  that  once  echoed  to  the 
chanter's  voice,  mingkd  with  the  organ's 
majestic  sound,  tlic  hollow  wind:  roar,  and 


DIALOGUE  XVII. 


•lo7 


the  (lashing  storm  drives.  Where  are  now 
the  silent  cells,  the  vocal  choirs,  the  dusky 
groves,  ill  which  the  romantic  saints  pro- 
Janged  their  lonely  vigils  by  the  midnight 
taper ;  or  poured  their  united  prayers  be- 
fore the  lark  had  waked  the  morn  ;  or  stroll- 
ed, in  ever-musing  melancholy,  along  the 
moonlight  glade?  Surely  those  mouldering 
fragments  now  teach  (and  with  a  much  bet- 
ter grace,  with  a  much  stronger  emj)hasis) 
\\  hat  formerly  their  unsocial  and  gloomy  re- 
sidentiaries  professed  ; — they  teach  the  van- 
ity of  the  world,  and  the  transitory  duration 
of  all  that  is  most  stable  in  this  region  of 
shadows. 

Behold,  on  yonder  eminence,  the  rueful 
memorials  of  a  magnificent  castle.  All  dis- 
mantled, and  quite  demolished,  it  gives  a 
shading  of  solemnity  to  the  more  lively  j)arts 
of  nature's  picture  ;  and  attempers  the  rural 
delight  with  some  touches  of  alarmii;g 
dread. — War,  destructive  war,  has  snatch- 
ed the  scythe  from  the  hand  of  Time,  and 
luirried  on  the  steps  of  Destiny.  Those 
broken  columns,  and  battered  walls  ;  those 
])rostrate  towers,  and  battlements  dashed  to 
ihe  ground,  carry  evident  marks  of  an  im- 
mature downfall.  They  were  built  forages, 
and  for  ages  might  have  stood  a  defence 
and  accommodation  to  generations  yet  un- 
born, if  haply  they  had  escaped  the  dire  as- 
saults of  hostile  rage.  But  what  vigilance 
of  man  can  prevent  the  miner's  d.  rk  ap- 
proach ?  or  what  solidity  of  bulwark  can 
withstand  the  bellowing  engine's  impetuous 
shock  ? 

Those,  perhaps,  were  the  rooms  in  which 
licentious  Mirth  crowned  with  roses  the 
sparkling  bowl,  and  tuned  to  the  silver- 
sounding  lute  the  syren's  inchanting  song. 
Those,  the  scenes  of  voluptuous  indulgence, 
where  Luxury  poured  her  delicacies  ;  where 
Jieauty,  insidious  Beauty,  practised  her 
wiles,  and  spread  with  bewitching  art  her 
wanton  snares.  Now,  instead  of  the  riot- 
ous banquet,  and  intrigues  of  lawless  love, 
the  ov,  I  utters  her  hated  screams  by  night, 
and  the  raven  flaps  her  ominous  wing  by 
day.  Where  are  the  violet  couches,  and 
the  woodbine  bowers,  which  fanned  with 
their  breathing  sweets,  the  polluted  flame  ? 
The  soil  seems  to  suffer  for  the  abuses  of 
the  owner.  Blasted  and  dishonoured,  it 
jn-oduces  nothing  but  ragged  briars  and 
noisome  nettles,  under  whose  odious  co- 
vert the  hissing  snake  glides,  or  tiie  croak- 
ing toad  crawls  :  Fearful  intimation  of  that 
ignominious  and  doleful  catastrophe  which 
awaits  the  sons  of  riot !  when  their  momen- 
tary gratifications  will  drop  like  the  faded 
leaf,  and  leave  nothing  behind  but  pangs  of 
remorse,  keener  far  than  the  pointed  thorn, 
and  more  envenomed  than  the  vij)er's  tooth. 
Perhaps  they  were  the  beauteous  and  ho- 
noured abodes,  where  (jirundeurund  Polite- 


ness walked  their  daily  round,  attended  with  a 
train  of  guiltless  delights  ;  where  amiable 
and  refined  Friendship  was  wont  to  sit  and 
smile,  looking  love,  and  talking  the  very 
soul  ;  where  Hospitality,  with  Economy  al- 
ways at  her  side,  stood  beckoning  to  the 
distressed  but  industrious'poorjandshower- 
ed  blessings  from  her  liberal  hand.  But 
vvar,.detrsted  war,  has  stretched  over  the 
social  and  inviting  seat  "  the  line  of  confu-- 
sion,  and  the  stones  of  emptiness."  Isa. 
xxxiv.  11.  Now,  alas!  nothing  but  deso- 
lation and  horror  haunt  the  savage  retreat. 
The  ample  arches  of  the  bridge,  which  so 
often  transmitted  the  wondering  passenger 
along  their  pensile  way,  lie  buried  in  the 
dreary  moat — Those  relics  of  the  massy 
portals,  naked  and  abandoned,  seem  to  be- 


*  I  s:iy  distressed  but  industrious  poor ;  because 
I  would  not  be  understood  as  encouraging  in  any  de- 
gree the  relief  of  our  common  beggars.  '1  oward's  the 
former,  I  would  cultivate  a  tender  and  ever-yearning 
compassion;  1  would  anticipate  their  complaints; 
and,  as  a  sacred  writer  directs,  would  even  seeK  to  do 
them  good.  But  as  to  the  latter,  I  frankly  own,  that 
I  look  upon  itasmy  duty  todiscouvagesuclicumberers 
of  the  ground.  They  are,  generally  speaking,  lusty 
drones  ;  and  their  habitual  i)egging  is  no  better  than 
a  specious  robbing  of  the  public  hive.  For  such  stur- 
dy supplicants  who  are  able  to  undergo  the  fatigue  of 
travelling;  able  to  endure  the  inclemencies  of  the 
weather,  and  consequently  much  more  able,  were  they 
equ.iUy  willing,  to  exercise  themselves  in  some  species 
of  laudable  industry ; — for  these,  the  house  of  cor- 
rection would  be  a  far  more  salutary  provision  thaii 
any  supply  from  our  table:  and  coufinemcnt  to  labour, 
a  much  more  beneficial  chanty  than  the  liberality  of 
the  purse. 

We  should  remember,  that  they  should  be  taught 
that  the  law  ordained  by  the  court  of  heaven  is  :  "  If 
a  man  will  not  work,  neither  shall  he  eat."  If  then  we 
contribute  to  support  them  in  idleness,  do  we  not 
counteract  and  frustrate  this  wise  regulation  establish- 
ed by  the  great  Sovereign  of  the  universe  ?  Is  it  not 
also  a  wrong  to  the  deserving  poor,  if  we  suil'er  these 
wens  on  the  body  politic  to  draw  oft'  the  nourishment 
which  ought  to  circulate  amongst  the  valuable  and 
useful  members  !  Money  or  victuals  bestowed  on  these 
worthless  wretches  is  not  real  beneficence,  but  the  ear- 
nest-penny of  sloth.  1 1  hires  them  to  be  good-for-noth- 
ing, and  pays  them  for  being  public  nuisances. 

Let  us  then  unanimously  join  to  shake  off  these  dead 
weights  from  our  wheels,  and  dislodge  these  swarms 
of  vermin  from  our  state.  Let  us  be  deaf  to  their 
most  importunate  clamours,  and  assure  ourselves  that 
by  this  determined  inflexibility,  we  do  God,  we  do  our 
community,  we  do  them,  the  most  substantial  service. 
Should  they  implore  by  the  injured  name  of  Jesus— 
for  the  honour  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  let  us  resolutely 
withhold  our  alms.  Their  meaning  is — •'  I  cannot  go 
on  injiny  present  shameful  and  iniquitous  course;  lean 
no  longer  continue  to  act  the  wicked  and  slothful  ser- 
vant, unless  you  will  administer  some  kindly  pernici- 
ous assistance.  For.Christ's  sake,  therefore,  assist  mo 
to  dishonour  my  Christian  name,  and  to  live  more  in- 
famously than  the  vilest  beasts.  For.Christ's  sake,  help 
me  to  be  a  rei)roach  and  burden  to  my  native  country, 
and  to  persist  in  the  way  that  leads  to  eternal  destruc- 
tion." This  is  the  true  import  of  their  petitions ;  and 
whether  the  sanction  of  that  most  venerable  name, 
added  to  such  a  reiiuest,  should  move  our  commisera- 
tion, or  excite  ouraWiorrence,  let  every  thinking  per- 
son judge. 

I  trust  the  reader  will  be  so  candid  as  to  excuse  this 
long  digressive  note,  and  do  me  the  justice  to  believe 
that  1  am  not  pleading  against,  but  for  the  real  poor  : 
not  to  harden  any  one's  heart,  but  rather  todircct  every 
one's  hand.  Give  out  of  gratitude  to  Christ,  out  of 
compassion  to  the  needy,  and  bp  for  ever  blessed  :  but 
give  not  to  incorrigible  vagrants,  to  maintain  impiety, 
and  pamper  indolence,  lest  it  be  deiuandcd  one  day, 
I  Who  halh  icciuired  this  at  your  li.uul  ?  Lest,  by  suj)- 
I  porting  dissolute  creatures,  in  that  abandoned  sloth 
1  which  isthe  nurseof  all  vice,  we  become  partakers  ot 
,  their  guilt,  and  accessory  to  their  ruin. 


458 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


moan  their  melancholy  condition.  No  splen- 
did chariots,  with  their  gay  retinue,  frequent 
the  solitary  avenues.  No  needy  steps,  with 
cheerful  expectation,  besiege  the  once  boun- 
tiful gate.  But  all  is  a  miserable,  forlorn, 
hideous  pile  of  rubbish. 

Since  riches  so  often  take  to  themselves 
wings,  and  fly  away  ;  since  houses  great  and 
fair,  reel  upon  their  foundations,  and  so 
tumble  into  dust ;  how  wise,  how  salutary, 
is  our  divine  Master's  advice !  "  Make  to 
yourselves  friends  with  the  mammon  of  un- 
righteousness ;  that  when  the  world  fails 
around  you,  when  the  springs  of  nature  fail 
within  you,  they  as  witnesses  of  your  cha- 
rity, and  vouchers  for  the  sincerity  of  your 
faith,  "  may  receive  you  into  everlasting  ha- 
bitations," Luke  xvi.  9.  This  is  lo  lay  up 
treasure  "  for  ourselves,"  Matth.  vi.  20  ; 
whereas,  whatever  else  we  amass,  is  for  our 
heirs,  for  our  successors,  for  we  know  nut 
who.  This  wealth  is  truly  and  emphati- 
cally called  "  our  own,"  Luke  xvi.  12  ;  it  is 
an  advowson ;  we  have  the  perpetuity. 
Whereas,  whatever  else  we  possess,  is  ours 
only  for  a  turn,  or  in  trust. 

See  the  dreadful,  dreadful  ravages  of  civil 
discord  !  Wherever  that  infernal  fury  stalks, 
she  marks  her  steps  in  blood,  and  leaves 
opulent  cities  a  ruinous  heap.* — What 
thanks  then,  what  ardent  and  ceaseless 
thanks,  are  due  to  that  all-superintending, 
ever-gracious  Lord,  who  has  dashed  the 
torch  from  her  hand ;  has  broke  her  mur- 
derous weapons,  and  driven  the  baleful  pest 
from  our  island  ! — May  the  same  Almighty 
goodness  shortly  banish  the  accursed  mon- 
ster from  all  lands  ! — banish  the  monster, 
with  her  hated  associate  Rapine,  and  her 
insatiable  purveyor  Ambition,  to  the  deep- 


•  The  effects  of  what  Virgil  calls  bella,  horrida 
beJla,  were  never  displayed  in  colours  that  glow,  and 
with  figures  that  alarm,  lilie  those  which  are  used  by 
the  prophet  Jeremiah,  chap.  iv.  19,  .Vc.  As  this  is 
perhaps  the  greatest  master-piece  of  the  kind,  the 
reader  will  permit  me  to  enrich  the  notes  with  a  tran- 
script of  the  passage. 

First  we  see,  or  rather  we  feel,  the  effects  of  war 
on  the  human  mind ;  the  keenest  anguish,  and  the 
deepest  dismay.  "My  bowels!  my  bowels!  I  am 
pained  at  my  very  heart.  My  heart  maketh  a  noise 
in  me ;  I  cannot  hold  my  peace :  because  thou  hast 
heard,  Omy  soul,  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  the  alarm 
of  war.  Destruction  upon  destruction  is  cried;  for 
the  land  is  spoiled.  Suddenly  are  my  tents  spoiled, 
and  my  curtains  in  a  moment.  How  long  shall  I  see 
the  standard,  and  hear  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  ?" 

Then  we  see  the  dismal  devastations  of  war ;  and 
who  does  not  shudder  at  the  sight  ?  the  whole  country 
laid  in  ruins !  deprived  of  all  its  ornaments,  and  all 
its  inhabitants !  reduced  to  a  solitude,  and  a  chaos. 
"  I  beheld  the  earth,  and  lo  it  was  without  form  and 
void  ;  and  the  heavens,  and  they  had  no  light. — I  be- 
held the  mountains,  and  lo!  they  trembled,  and  all 
the  hills  moved  lightly. — I  beheld,  and  lo  !  there  was 
no  man,  and  all  the  birds  of  the  heavens  were  tied. — 
I  beheld,  and  lo  !  the  fruitful  place  was  a  wilderness, 
and  all  the  cities  thereof  were  broken  down,  at  the 
presence  of  the  Lord,  and  by  his  fierce  anger. 

If,  after  all  this  profusionof  imagery,  bold  and  ani- 
mated even  lo  astonishment,  we  can  have  any  relish 
for  the  cold  correctness  of  a  Heathen  Genius,  we  may 
find  somcthJnji  of  the  same  nature  in  Horace,  lib,  Z. 
Od.  1. 


est  hell.  Branded  with  everlasting  infamy, 
and  bound  in  adamantine  chains,  there  let 
them  gnash  their  teeth,  and  bite  the  inevi- 
table curb  !  While  Peace,  descending  from 
her  native  heaven,  bids  her  olives  spring 
amidst  the  joyful  nations  ;  and  Plenty,  in 
league  with  Commerce,  scatters  blessings 
from  her  copious  born.  While  Gladness 
smiles  in  every  eye  ;  and  Love,  extensive, 
universal  love,  levelling  the  partition-wall  of 
bigotry,  cements  every  heart  in  brotherly 
affection. 

Near  those  heaps  of  havoc  lies  the  spot, 
ever  memorable  and  still  revered,  on  which 
an  obstinate  and  fatal  battle  was  fought. 
The  husbandman,  as  he  breaks  his  fallow 
land,  or  rends  the  grassy  turf,  often  discov- 
ers the  horrid  implements,  and  the  more 
horrid  effects,  of  that  bloody  conflict.  He 
starts  to  hear  his  coulter  strike  upon  the 
bosses  of  a  rusty  buckler,  or  gride  over  the 
edge  of  a  blunted  sword.  He  turns  pale  to 
see  human  bones  thrown  up  before  his 
plough  ;  and  stands  aghast  to  think,  that  in 

cutting  his  furrow  he  opens  a  grave The 

grey-headed  sire  often  relates  to  his  grand- 
sons, hanging  with  eager  attention  on  the 
tale,  and  trembling  for  the  event — relates 
the  dismal,  the  glorious  deeds  of  that  im- 
portant day  : — How  the  fields,  now  covered 
with  waving  crops,  were  then  loaded  with 
mangled  and  ghastly  corpses  ;  how  the  pas- 
tures, now  green  with  herbage,  were  then 
drenched  and  incrimsoiied  with  human 
gore. 

"  On  that  extended  common,"  he  says, 
"  where  the  busy  shepherd  is  erecting  his 
hurdled  citadel,  the  tents  were  spread,  and 
the  banners  displayed  ;  the  spears  bristled 
in  air,  and  the  burnished  helmets  glittered 
to  the  sun. — On  yonder  rising  ground, 
where  the  frisking  iambs  play  their  harmless 
frolics,  stood  the  martial  files,  clad  in  mail, 
and  ranged  in  battle  array ;  stood  war,  with 
all  its  collected  honors,  like  some  portentous 
cloud,  ready  toburst  intoan  immediate  storm. 
— On  the  nearer  plain,  where  the  quiet  steed 
grazes  in  safety,  and  those  sober  oxen  chew 
the  juicy  herb,  the  fierce  encounter  mixed. 
There,  the  javelins,  launched  from  nervous 
arms,  and  aimed  by  vengeful  eyes,  flew  and 
re-flew,  whizzing  with  death.  The  arrows 
lightened*  from  the  strings,  and  drenched 
their  keen  points,  and  dipped  their  feathery 
wings  in  blood.      Soon  as  this  shower  of 


•  Hab.  iii.  1).  The  original  words,  literally  trans- 
lated, present  us  with  that  beautifully-bold  figure, 
the  "lightning  of  thy  spear;" — which,  with  innu- 
merable other  graces  of  speech,  that  give  dignity  and 
spirit  to  our  modern  compositions,  are  borrowed  from 
the  language  of  Zion;  are  transplanted  from  the 
school  of  the  prophets.  If  we  start  into  a  pleasing 
amazement,  at  Homer's  *»f "  f^xmrai ;  have  we  not 
equal  reason  to  be  cliarmed  and  surprised  at  Nahum's 
liiirr  ^bbfnn  ?  every  chariot  raged  with  vio- 
lence and  impetuosity — was  eager,  was  even  mad  to 
destroy.    Nah.  ii.  5. 


DiALOfiUE  XVII. 


450 


missive  steel  ceased,  instantly  outspriing 
thousands  of  flaming  swords.  They  dash 
on  the  brazen  shields,  they  cut  their  way 
through  the  riven  armour,  and  sheath  their 
blades  in  many  a  gallant  dauntless  heart. 
Here,  on  this  distinguished  level,  the  proud 
presumj)tuous  enemy,  confident  of  victory, 
and  boasting  of  their  numbers,  poured  in 
like  a  flood.  There,  a  bold  determined 
battalion,  of  which  myself  was  a  part,  jilanl- 
cd  themselves  like  a  rock,  and  broke  the 
fierce  attack. 

"  Then,"  adds  the  brave  old  warrior, 
"  then  the  coward  herd  fled  before  the  vcn- 
gfiiJice  of  our  concniering  aims.  Then, 
these  hands  strewed  the  plains  with  a  har- 
v(  St.  ditKreiit  lar  from  their  |)resent  produc- 
ti(;!!S.  T  hen  the  fathers,  smitten  with  in- 
expressible dread,  looked  not  back  on  their 
children,*  though  shuddering  at  the  lifted 
spear,  or  screaming  under  the  brandished 
sword.  The  fathers  looked  not  back  on 
their  children,  though  they  fell  among  the 
slain,  gashed  with  deadly  wounds  ;  or  lay 
expiring,  in  groans  of  agonv,  under  our 
feet." 

We  leave  the  warrior  to  repeat  his  shock- 
ing story,  and  enjoy  his  savage  satisfaction. 
For  calmer  scenes  and  softer  delights,  we 
willingly  leave  him  :  The  eye  is  jileased 
with  the  elegant  gaiety  of  the  parterre;  the 
ear  is  soothed  with  the  warbling  melody  of 
the  grove ;  but  grand  objects,  and  the  mag- 
nificence of  things,  charm  and  transport  the 
whole  man.  The  mind  on  such  occ.isioiis 
seems  to  expand  with  the  pros;)ecr,  and  se- 
cretly exults  in  the  consciousness  of  her 
greatness.  Intent  upon  these  large  and 
excursive  views,  our  friends  scarce  advert 
to  the  minuter  beauties,  which  address 
them  on  every  side.      The   s\;an  with   iier 


♦  For  thi;;  very  strikinfj  and  most  terrific  ima;^e, 
we  are  obliged  to  the  iiroiihct  Jeremiah  ;  who,  in  a 
few  words,  l)ut  with  all  thepompof  horror,  describes 
the  din  of  approaching  war,  and  the  consternation  of 
a  vanqu'shed  people.  "  At  the  notice  of  the  stamp- 
ing of  the  hoofs  of  his  strong  horsts,  at  the  rushing 
of  his  chariots,  and  at  the  rumbling  of  his  wheels, 
the  fathers  shall  not  look  back  to  their  children 
for  feebleness  of  hands."    Jer.  xlvii.  3. 

Not  to  mention  the  thunder-like  sound  of  the  dic- 
tion ;  and  tli.-it  in  language  much  less  sonorous  than 
the  original;  I  appoal  to  every  reader,  whether  the 
last  circumst.ince  does  not  awaken  the  idea  of  so  tre- 
mendous a  scene,  and  so  horrible  a  drtad  as  no  words 
can  express.  Virgil  has  imitated  the  prophet's  man- 
ner, in  that  very  delicate  descriptive  touch  ;  where, 
representing  the  prodigious  alarm,  excited  by  the  yell 
of  the  infernal  fury,  he  says, 

"  Et  treiiida?  matres  presscre  ad  pectora  natos." 
That  IS,  '•  Kach  frighted  mother  clasped  the  infant 
to  her  fluttering  bosom." 

No  one,  I  believe,  need  be  informed,  that  the  panic 
i.s  ))ainted,  with  a  very  superior  energy,  by  the  poet 
of  heaven.  In  the  I'agan's  draft,  the  eftect  of  fear 
results  from  the  constitution,  and  coincides  witli  the 
bias  of  humanity  :  whereas  in  the  prophet's  picture, 
it  counteracts,  it  suspends,  it  entirely  overliears,  the 
tendcrest  workings  and  strongest  jn-opensities  of  na- 
ture, though  instigated,  on  one  hand,  by  the  most 
iniportunate  calls  of  cx(|uisite  distress ;  and  stiinu- 
lateil  ou  the  other,  by  all  the  c-ulicitntionsof  themost 
Yuarning  compabsiozi. 


snowy  plumes,  and  loftily  bending  hetid,  not- 
withstanding all  her  superb  air,  and  lordly 
state,  rows  by  without  exciting  admiration, 
or  obtaining  notice.  Equally  unnoticed  is 
both  the  array  and  the  action  of  the  duck ; 
her  glossy  neck,  and  finely  checkered  wings  ; 
her  diving  into  the  deep,  or  her  darting  up 
into  day.  The  swallow,  skimming  the  air 
in  wanton  circles,  or  dipping  her  downy 
breast  in  the  flood,  courts  their  observation 
in  vain.  Nor  could  the  finny  shoals  attract 
their  regard,  though  they  played  before  the 
boat  in  sportive  chase  ;  or,  glancing  quick 
to  the  surfiice,  shewed  their  pearly  coats  be- 
dropt  with  gold.  Thus  they,  engaged  in 
sublime,  neglect  inferior  speculations  !  And 
if  the  sons  of  religion  overlook  the  diminu- 
tive, transient,  delusory  forms  of  pleasure, 
which  float  on  the  narrow  stream  of  time,  or 
flit  along  the  scanty  bounds  of  sense  ;  it  is 
only  to  contemplate  and  enjoy  a  happiness 
in  their  God,  which  is  elevated,  substantial, 
and  immortal.  Compared  with  which,  what- 
ever the  eye  can  survey,  from  pole  to  pole, 
from  the  rising  to  the  setting  sun,  is  a 
cockle-shell,  a  butterfly,  a  bubble. 

From  this  open  and  enlarged  scene,  they 
enter  the  skirts  of  a  vast,  umbrageous,  vener- 
able forest.  On  either  side,  the  sturdy  and 
gigantic  sons  of  earth  rear  their  aged  trunks 
and  spread  their  branching  arms.  Trees 
of  every  hardy  make,  and  every  majestic 
form,  in  agreeable  disorder  and  with  a  wild 
kind  of  grandeur,  fill  the  terial  regions.  The 
huge  exi)ansive  roaming  boughs  unite  them- 
selves over  the  current,  and  diffuse  "  their 
umbrage,  broad  and  brown  as  evening." 
The  timorous  deer  start  at  the  clashing  of 
the  waves.  Alarmed  with  the  utuisual  sound 
they  look  up  and  gaze  for  a  moment,  then 
fly  into  covert,  by  various  ways,  and  with 
precipitate  speed ;  vanishing,  rather  than 
departing,  from  the  glade. 

How  awful  to  reflect,  as  they  glide  along 
the  shelving  shores,  and  the  moss-grown 
banks,  as  they  sail  under  the  pendant  shades 
of  quivering  poplar,  of  whistling  fir,  and  the 
solemn  sounding  foliage  of  the  oak,  how  aw- 
ful to  reflect :  "  These  were  the  lonely  haunts 
of  the  Druids  two  thousand  years  ago! 
Amidst  these  dusky  mazes,  and  sympa- 
thetic glooms,  the  pensive  sages  strayed. 
Here  they  sought,  they  found,  and,  with 
all  the  solemnity  of  superstitious  de- 
votion, they  gathered  the  misletoe.*  Here 
the  visionary  recluses  shunned  the  tumul- 
tuous ways  of  men,  and  traced  the  myste- 
rious paths  of  Providence.  Here  they  ex- 
plored the  secrets  of  natiue,  and  invoked 
their  fabled  gods." 

Sometimes  wrapt   in  a  sudden  reverie  of 

*  If  the  reader  pleases,  he  may  see  these  pompous 
solennities  described  in  Vanieiii  I'ra-d.  lin.st.  p.  IJ.'i, 
iVc.  where  the  curious  narrative  of  I'liny  is  enibcl- 
lishcd  with  tlie  harmonious  number^  of  Virgil. 


•60 


thought,  sometimes  engaged  in  conversa- 
tion on  the  solemn  appearance  of  things,  the 
voyagers  scarce  perceive  their  progress. 
Before  they  are  aware,  this  venerable  scene 
is  lost,  and  they  find  themselves  advanced 
upon  the  borders  of  a  beautiful  lawn.  The 
forest  retiring  to  the  right  hand,  in  the  shape 
of  a  crescent,  composed  what  Milton  styles, 
"  A  verdurous  wall  of  stateliest  aspect;" 
and  left  in  the  midst  an  ample  space  for  the 
flourishing  of  herbage. 

Here,  said  Theron,  if  you  please,  we  will 
alight,  and  leave  the  bearer  of  our  floating 
sedan  to  pursue  his  ceaseless  course  ;  to 
enrich  the  bosom  of  other  valleys,  and  lave 
the  feet  of  other  hills ;  to  visit  cities,  and 
make  the  tour  of  counties  ;  to  reflect  the 
image  of  many  a  splendid  structure  which 
adorns  his  banks,  and  which  is  far  more  ami- 
able, to  distribute,  all  along  his  winding 
journey,  innumerable  conveniences  both  for 
man  and  beast ;  acquiring,  the  farther  he 
goes,  and  the  more  benefits  he  confers,  a 
deeper  flow,  and  a  wider  swell ;  to  the  re- 
markable confirmation  of  that  beneficent 
maxim,  "  There  is  that  scattereth,  and  yet 
increaseth."  Prov.  xi.  24. 

Theron  and  Aspasio,  walking  across  the 
spacious  amphitheatre,  seated  themselves  at 
the  extremity  of  the  bend.  Before  them 
lay  a  verdant  area,  quite  even,  perfectly 
handsome,  but  far  from  gay.  Green  was 
all  the  dress,  without  any  mixture  of  gaudy 
flowers,  or  glittering  colours ;  only,  now 
and  then,  a  gentle  breeze,  skimming  over 
the  undulating  mead,  impressed  a  varying 
wavy  gloss  on  its  surface.  The  whole 
seemed  to  resemble  the  decent  and  sober 
ornaments  of  maturer  age,  when  it  has  put 
off"  the  trappings,  and  bid  adieu  to  the  levi- 
ties of  youth.  The  broad  transparent 
stream  ran  parallel  with  the  lips*  of  the 
channel;  and  drewaline  of  circumvallation, 
as  it  were,  to  guard  the  calm  retreat.  It 
appeared,  where  shaded  with  boughs,  like 
a  barrier  of  polished  steel  ;  \\here  open  to 
the  sim,  like  a  mirror  of  flowing  crystal. 
The  eastern  edges  of  the  river  were  barri- 
caded with  a  kind  of  mountainous  declivity, 
on  whose  rude  and  rocky  sides  the  timorous 
rabbit  burrowed,  and  the  bearded  goat 
browsed.  Not  far  from  the  summit  two 
or  three  fountains  gushed,  \^hich,  uniting 
their  currents,  as  they  trickled  down  the 
steep,  formed  a  natural  cascade  :  here  it 
was  lost  in  the  rushy  dells,  or  obscured  by 
the  twisting  roots  ;  there  it  burst  again  in- 
to view,  and,  iilaying  full  in  the  eye  of  day, 
looked  like  a  sheet  of  spouting  silver. 

In  this  romantic  retirement,  said  Theron, 


•  Tlie  Greek,  which  is  above  all  Innj^iapcs  happy 
In  its  beautiful  variety  of  compound  words,  very 
neatly  expresses  this  nivpearauce  Iry  i(ro;i^tiX>is  rf 
7V' 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 

we  are  quite  sequestered  from  society.  We 
seem  to  be  in  a  world  of  our  own  ;  and 
should  almost  be  temuted  to  forget  that  we 
are  encompassed  with  a  kindred  species,  did 
not  the  music  of  those  silver-tongued  bells, 
poured  from  a  distant  steeple,  and  gliding 
along  the  gentle  stream,  bring  us  news  of 
human  kind. 

Escaped  from  man  and  his  busy  walks, 
methinks  we  are  come  to  the  house  of  tran- 
quillity. Such  a  deep  undisturbed  compo- 
sure reigns  all  around  !  It  is,  as  if  some  au- 
gust personage  was  making  his  entrance,  or 
some  majestic  being  was  upon  the  point  to 
speak,  and  all  nature  stood  fixed  in  attentive 
expectation.  No  place  better  fitted  to 
cherish,  or  to  inspire  a  contemplative  se- 
dateness. 

Observe  the  simplicity  and  grandeur  of 
those  surrounding  trees  ;  the  noble  plain- 
ness of  their  verdure,  and  the  prodigious 
stateliness  of  their  aspect.  What  a  speck 
are  our  gardens,  and  what  a  mere  dwarf  are 
our  groves,  compared  with  these  vast  plan- 
tations !  Here  is  none  of  your  nice  exact- 
ness, but  all  is  irregularly  and  wildly  great. 
Here  are  no  traces  of  the  shears,  nor  any 
footsteps  of  the  spade  ;  but  the  handiwork 
of  the  Deity  is  apparent  in  all.  Give  me 
the  scenes,  which  disdain  the  puny  assist- 
ance of  art,  and  are  infinitely  superior  to  the 
low  toils  of  man.  Give  me  the  scenes, 
which  scorn  to  bribe  our  attention  with  a 
little  borrowed  s])rucene.ss  of  shape,  but,  by 
their  own  native  dignity,  command  our  re- 
gard. I  love  the  prospects  which,  the  mo- 
ment they  are  beheld,  strike  the  soul  with 
veneration,  or  transport  it  with  wonder,  and 
cry  aloud  in  the  ear  of  reason,  "  Ascr'be  ye 
greatness  to  our  God"  Such,  I  think,  in 
a  very  eminent  degree,  is  the  forest. 


• Hif;h  waving  o'er  the  hills. 

Or  to  the  vast  horizon  wide  diffus'd, 
A  boundless  deep  immensity  of  shade. 

Asp.  Solomon's  refined  genius  seems  to 
have  been  fond  of  the  same  situation,  and 
delighted  with  the  same  objects.  There- 
fore, at  a  great  expense,  and  in  the  most 
curious  taste,  he  built  "  the  house  of  the 
forest."  Isaiah's  divine  imagination  was 
charmed  with  the  same  grand  spectacle. 
More  frequently  than  any  of  the  prophets, 
he  derives  his  illustrations  from  it.  One 
comparison  I  particularly  remember:  Speak- 
ing of  the  Assyiian  king  and  his  military 
forces,  he  likens  them  to  such  an  assemblage 
of  trees :  Numerous,  as  their  amazing  mul- 
titudes ;  strong,  as  their  massy  trunks.- 
Yet  numerous  and  potent  as  they  were, 
they  should  all  be  brought  low,  and  laid  in 
the  dust.  "  For  behold  the  Lord,  the 
Lord  of  hosts,  shall  lop  the  bough  with 
terror,  and  the  high  ones  of  stature  shall  be 
hewn  down,  and  the  haughty  shall  be  hum- 
bled ;  and  he  shall  cut  down  the  thickets  of 


his  forest  with  iron,  nnd  Lebanon  shall 
by  a  mighty  one,"  Isaiah  x.  33,  Si- 
Then  he  passes  by  a  most  lieaiitiful  tran- 
sition to  his  darling  topic,  the  redemption 
of  sinners.  He  gives  us,  together  with  one 
of  the  finest  contrasts*  imaginable,  a  view 
of  the  Messiah  and  his  great  salvation. 
When  those  lofty  cedars  are  levelled  with 
the  ground,  "there  shall  come  a  rod,"  a 
twig  shall  spring  "  from  the  stem  of  Jesse, 
and  a  branch  shall  grow  out  of  his  roots," 
Isaiah  xi.  1.  which,  notwithstanding  its 
mean  original  and  unpromising  appearance, 
shall  rear  its  head  to  the  skies,  and  extend 
its  shade  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

Ther.  You  do  well,  Aspasio,  to  recall 
my  roving  thoughts.  This  magnificent  so- 
litude had  captivated  my  imagination,  and  1 
was  giving  a  loose  to  the  usual  sallies  of  my 
fancy;  but  with  a  willing  compliance,  I  turn 
to  a  more  excellent  subject.  Only  I  must 
assure  you,  that  your  remark  awakens  a  pain- 
ful idea  in  my  mind,  though  a  joyful  one  in 
your  own  :  For  my  hopes,  which  were  once 
high  and  lifted  up,  are  now  too  much  like 
that  devoted  prostrate  forest. 

Asp.  My  dear  Theron,  give  me  leave  to 
say,  they  were  never  rightly  founded.  They 
were  what  Shakespeare  calls,  "the  baseless 
fabric  of  a  vision."  Now  the  shadowy  and 
transient  hopes  are  demolished,  that  solid 
and  everlasting  joys  may  succeed.  Let  them 
rest  on  Christ,  the  infinitely  glorious  Re- 
deemer, and  they  shall  never  be  overthrown, 
never  be  removed  any  more. 

Cast  a  look  upon  yonder  ivy.  What  can 
be  more  feeble  ?  It  has  not  strength  enough 
to  withstand  the  slightest  blast.       Nay,   if 


DIALOGUE  XVII 

fall 


461 


left  to  itself,  its  own  weight  would  crush  it 
to  the  earth.  Yet,  by  twirn'ng  around  the 
oak,  how  high  it  rises,  and  how  firm  it 
stands  !  An  emblem  of  our  state,  and  a 
pattern  for  our  imitation. — Thus  let  us, 
who  in  ourselves  are  nothing,  of  ourselves 
can  do  nothing,  let  us  fly  to  Christ — rely 
on  Christ — and  as  Barnabas  (that  true  son 
of  consolation)  speaks,  "cleave  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  with  full  purpose  of  heart." 
Acts  xi.  23.  Let  us  determine  to  know 
nothing,  to  desire  nothing,  to  depend  on 
nothing,  but  Jesus  Christ  and  '  him  crucifi- 
ed. Let  this  be  the  motto  for  our  faith, 
this  the  language  of  our  souls,  "  Christ  is 
all."  Then  shall  our  virtues,  though  hi- 
therto smitten  with  a  blast,  revive  as  the 
corn  ;  then  shall  our  hopes,  though  in  them- 
selves weaker  than  the  ivy,  mount  like  the 
cedars. 

Ther.    You  can  hardly  imagine  how  a 
sense  of  guilt  and  unworthiness  oppresses 


*  This  fine  contrast,  and  that  artful  transition, 
are,  by  the  injudicious  division  of  the  two  chapters, 
very  much  obscured,  if  not  imitc  lost  to  many  read- 
ers. The  chapters,  1  think,  shoulil  by  no  means  be 
separated  ;  but  Die  leutli  and  the  ck  vcnth,  as  a  con- 
tinuation of  the  same  jiroiihecy,  should  >)C  united. 


my  mind.  I  am  often  discouraged,  and  can- 
not bring  myself  to  be  steadfast  in  faith,  or 
joyful  through  hope. 

Asp.  You  caimot  bring  yourself,  but  God 
Almighty's  power  and  grace  can  bring  to 
])ass  these  desirable  eO'ects-  And  hear  what 
the  prophet  says  farther,  upon  the  charm- 
ing to])ic  which  introduced  our  discourse. 
Whenever  the  eloquent  Isaiah  undertakes 
to  disjjlay  a  truth,  he  gives  it  all  the  energy, 
all  the  beauty,  and  every  heightening  touch 
which  it  is  capable  of  receiving.  This  hum- 
ble shoot,  springing  from  the  stem  of  Jesse, 
shall  rise  to  such  a  pitch  of  elevation,  that 
it  shall  be  conspicuous  for  and  near,  and 
"  stand  for  an  ensign  of  the  people."  It 
shall  be  seen,  not  like  a  beacon  upon  the 
top  of  an  hill,  by  the  Israelites  only,  or  the 
natives  of  a  single  territory;  but,  like  the 
great  luminaries  in  heaven,  shall  be  visi- 
ble in  every  country,  and  by  the  whole  in- 
habited world.  "  To  it  shall  the  Gentiles 
seek,"  not  only  from  the  remotest,  but  from 
the  most  barbarous  and  idolatrous  climes. 
These,  even  these  persons,  though  savage 
in  their  nature,  and  detestable  in  their  man- 
ners,  shall  be  freely  admitted,  and  find  rest 
under  his  shadow.  Niiy,  the  refreshment 
which  he  yields,  and  the  comfort  which  they 
receive,  shall  be  not  seasonable  only,  but  of 
sovereign  efficacy  ;  "  his  rest  shall  be  glori- 
ous."  Isaiah  xi.  10. 

From  this  we  learn,  that  all  the  blessings 
of  Christ's  mediation  are  designed  for  (len- 
tiles — for-  the  most  abandoned  and  abomin- 
able sinners ;  that  they  are  so  full  and  con- 
summate, as  to  create  a  calm  of  tranquillity, 
a  "  glorious  rest,"  in  the  most  troubled,  af- 
tlicted,  guilty  consciences.  And  I  dare  chal  • 
leiige  even  my  Theron's  misgiving  mind, 
to  specify  any  want  which  is  not  stipplied, 
any  grievance  which  is  not  redressed,  by  the 
righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  formerly 
encountered  yoin-  objections,  let  me  now 
combat  your  scruples. 

Titer.  Sometimes  I  have  a  deep  and  dis- 
tressing conviction  of  my  extreme  sinftdness. 
It  is  like  a  sore  burden,  too  heavy  for  me  to 
bear.  It  is  hke  the  vilest  filth,  and  renders 
me  odious  to  myself:  how  much  more 
loathsome  to  the  all-seeing  eye  ?  It  appears 
like  a  debt  of  ten  thousand  talents,  and  1 
have  nothing,  no,  not  any  thing  to  pay. 
Then  I  exj)erience  what  the  psalmist  so 
pathetically  laments  ;  "  My  sins  have  taken 
such  hold  upon  me,  that  I  am  not  able  to 
look  tip  ;  yea,  they  are  more  in  number  than 
the  hairs  of  my  head:"  and  my  heart  is 
ready  to  fail ;  my  hopes  are  upon  the  point 
to  expire. 

Asp.  Then,  Theron,  fly  to  that  just  and 
righteous  One,  who  is  the  strength  of  our 
hearts,  the  life  of  our  hopes,  nnd  our  jior- 
tion  for  ever. 

If    sin    is    a    sore    Inudcn ;   luuk  unto 


4G'2 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Clirist,  who  bore  it  all  in  his  o\m^i  body  on 
the  tree,  and  removed,  entirely  removed, 
that  tremendous  load,  which  would  other- 
wise have  sunk  the  whole  world  into  the 
nethermost  hell.  If  sin  renders  us  filthy  ; 
let  us  have  recourse  to  that  blood  of  sprink- 
ling which  cleanses,  not  from  a  few  stains 
only,  but  from  all  guilt ;  by  which  the  most 
defiled  transgi  essors  become  fair  as  the  fair- 
est wool,  nay,  whiter  than  the  virgin  snows. 
Psal.  li.  7.  If  sin  is  a  debt,*  sul>jectingus 
to  wrath,  and  binding  us  over  to  punish- 
ment ;  let  us  confide  in  that  gracious  Sure- 
ty who  has  taken  the  debt  upon  himself, 
and  made  it  all  his  own  ;  and  not  only  so, 
but  has  paid  it  to  the  uttermost  farthing,  to 
the  very  last  mite ;  so  that  justice  itself  can 
demand  no  more. 

Let  me  confirm  and  illustrate  this  com- 
fortable truth  by  a  scriptural  similitude.  No 
similitudes  are  more  exact,  and  none  so  strik- 
ing. "  I  have  blotted  out  as  a  thick  cloud 
your  transgressions,  and  as  a  cloud  your 
sins,"  Isa.  xliv.  22.  A  little  while  ago,  the 
whole  expanse  of  yonder  sky  was  covered 
with  clouds.  Nothing  could  more  strongly 
represent  a  multitude  of  corruptions  besieg- 
ing the  heart,  and  a  multitude  of  iniquities 
overspreading  the  life.  But  where  is  now  that 
immense  arrangement  of  gloomy  vapours? 
The  sun  has  shown  them,  and  the  wind  has 
swept  them  clean  away.  There  are  none, 
neither  great  nor  small,  remaining.  From 
one  end  of  the  wide  extended  hemisphere  to 
the  other,  we  see  nothing  but  the  clear  and 
beautiful  blue  of  the  firmament.  So  saith 
the  Spirit  of  God  to  the  true  believer,  so 
totally  is  your  guilt,  however  horrid  and 
enormous,  done  away  through  the  dying 
Jesus. 

Ther.  It  is  not  possible  to  conceive,  nor 
will  the  whole  creation  afford,  a  more  ex- 
quisitely tine  comparison.  Perhaps  nothing 
can  so  emphatically  describe  the  most  pro- 
digious multitude  entirely  obliterated,  with- 
out the  least  trace  of  their  former  existence. 
But  I  am  not  only  chargeable  with  past  in- 
iquities ;  I  am  also  liable  to  daily  miscar- 
riages. I  relapse  into  sin ;  and  when  I 
would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  me. 
Nay,  my  best  hours  are  not  free  from  sinful 
infirmities,  nor  my  best  duties  from  sinful 
imperfections,  which  like  a  worm  at  the  core 


*  Bythe.se  three  images,  the  Ps.ilmist  display.s  the 
horribleanddestructivemalisnity  of  sin, together  with 
the  free  nature  and  invaluable  worth  of  evangelical 
forgiveness.  Blessed  is  he  whose  transgression,  as  an 
insuiiportable  load,  is  bore  or  taken  away  ;  whose  sin, 
as  being  the  most  abominable  filth,  is  covered ;  unto 
whom  the  Lord  iminiteth  not  that  most  ruinous  of  all 
debts,  iniquity.  Itispleasing  to  observe  the  vehemence 
and  ardour,  with  which  the  roval  penitent  sjicaks  on 
this  favourite  topic.  He  breaks  but  with  a  kind  of  holy 
abruptness,  and  pours  his  soul  in  a  variety  of  warm 
exiuessloiis ;  as  one  who  thought  he  could  not  possibly 
enter  upon  the  subject  too  soon,  nor  dwell  upon  it  too 
long,  I'sal.  xx.xii.  1,  2. 


of  the  fruit,  cat  away  the  vigour  of  my 
graces,  and  tarnish  the  beauty  of  my  ser- 
vices. 

Asp.  Because,  through  the  frailty  of  your 
mortal  nature,  you  cannot  always  stand  up- 
right;  because  even  the  just  man  falleth 
daily,  and  daily  contracteth  defilement  ; 
therefore  "  a  fountain  is  opened  for  sin  and 
for  uncleanness."  Zech.  xiii.  I.  The  blood 
and  atonement  of  Christ  are  compared  to  a 
heavenly  fountain,  in  which  polluted  sinners 
may  wash  daily,  wash  hourly,  and  be  con- 
stantly, perfectly  clean.  A  cistern  may  fail, 
may  be  broken  or  exhausted ;  but  it  is  the 
property  of  a  real  fountain,  never  to  be  dried 
up,  always  to  yield  its  waters.  Such  is  the 
efficacy  of  Christ's  death  ;  not  to  be  dimi- 
nished by  universal  and  by  incessant  use. 
It  "  removes  the  iniquity  of  the  land." 
Zech.  iii.  9.  "  It  takes  away  the  sin  of  the 
world."  John  i.  29.  It  is  new  for  otir 
application  eveiy  morning;  new,  for  this 
blessed  purpose,  every  moment.  On  which 
account  it  makes  complete  provision  for  our 
cleansing,  our  restoration,  and  our  comfort. 
Especially,  as  it  is  not  only  sovereign  in  it- 
self, and  always  free  for  our  approach,  but 
is  ever  pleaded  by  a  great  High-priest  in 
our  behalf.  Therefore  the  inspired  casuist 
directs  us  to  this  source  of  consolation  un- 
der all  the  upbraidings  of  conscience,  and 
all  the  remains  of  inbred  dej)ravity.  "  If 
any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,  and  ha 
is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins."  1  John  ii. 
1. 

We  — St.  John  reckons  himself  in  the 
.  number  of  those  frail  offending  creatures, 
who  stand  in  need  of  Christ,  as  a  perpetual 
Intercessor.  This  is  written,  not  to  encou- 
rage us  in  the  commission  of  sin,  but  that  we 
may  be  the  less  discouraged  under  a  sense 
of  our  infirmities.  We  have  : — not  we  pos- 
sibly may,  but  we  actually  have.  A  soul 
burdened  with  guilt  cannot  be  satisfied,  can- 
not be  eased,  with  a  bare  perhaps.  It  is 
therefore  positively  affirmed,  as  a  matter  of 
established  certainty,  of  which  we  should 
not  admit  a  doubt.  We  have  for  our  advo- 
cate ; — not  a  mean  person,  but  him  who  re- 
ceived an  illustrious  testimony  from  the 
most  excellent  glory,  "  This  is  my  beloved 
Son."  2  Pet.  i.  17.  Not  a  guilty  person, 
who  stands  in  need  of  pardon  for  himself, 
but  "Jesus  Christ  the  righteous." — Not  a 
mere  petitioner,  who  relies  purely  upon  libe- 
rality ;  but  one  who  has  merited,  fully  me- 
rited, whatever  he  asks  :  "  he  is  the  pro])i- 
tiation  for  our  sins,"  has  paid  our  ransom, 
and  purchased  our  peace. — In  consequence 
of  which  he  claims,  rather  than  asks  our 
renewed,  our  irrevocable  forgiveness.  This 
he  claims,  not  from  an  unrelenting  Judge, 
but  from  his  Father  and  our  Father.  And 
can  such  a  jileu  nic<'t  witli  a  rc'])iilsc  ?     Can 


DIALOGUE  XVir. 


463 


eucli  ail  advocate  misoany  in  liis  suit  ?  If 
the  prophets  of  old  were  reckoiied  "  the 
chariotof  Israel,  and  the  horsemen  thereof,'* 
2  Kings  ii.  12  ;  xiii.  14.  hecause,  like  their 
ancestor  Jacob,  ihey  had  power  with  God, 
and  prevailed  in  ])rayer  :  O  !  \\\n\t  a  de- 
fence, what  a  security,  is  the  divinely-ex- 
cellent, and  evei'-i)revailing  intercession  of 
Jesus  Christ  ! 

"  Your  graces,"  you  comjilain,  "arc  sul- 
lied, and  your  services  defective."  'I'lien, 
my  dear  friend,  renounce  them  in  ])oint  of 
confidence ;  and  gladly  receive,  cordially 
embrace,'  the  all-perfect  righteousness  of 
your  Lord.  So  shall  your  justilication  be 
complete  and  your  services,  though  delicient 
in  themselves,  be  "  accepted  in  the  Belov- 
ed." I  have  somewhere  seen,  painted  upon 
a  flat  surface,  an  awkward  and  disagreeable 
countenance:  in  which  was  nothing  regular, 
nothing  graceful,  but  every  feature  dispro- 
portionate. Yet  this  very  face,  rellected 
from  a  cylindrical  minor,  has  ])ut  off  its  de- 
formity ;  the  lineaments  became  well  adjust- 
ed ;  symmetry  connected  every  part,  and 
beauty  smiled  throughout  the  whole.  Like 
the  former  our  virtues  appear,  when  com- 
pared with  the  immaculate  purity  of  God, 
or  the  sublime  perfection  of  his  law  ;  but 
they  acquire  the  amiableness  of  the  latter, 
when  presented  to  the  Father  by  our  divine 
Mediator,  and  recommended  by  his  incon- 
ceivably precious  oblation. f 

Milton,  taking  his  hint  from  the  revela- 
tions of  St.  John,  rej)resonts  our  great  High- 
Priest  in  this  glorious  and  delightful  atti- 
tude ;  represents  him  offering  nj)  the  sup- 
plications and  penitential  duties  of  our  first 
parents  ;  mixing  with  them  the  incense  of 
his  own  merits,  and  thus  interceding  before 
the  tlirone  : — 

See,  Father !  what  first  fruits  on  earth  are  S))rung 
From  thy  implanted  grace  in  man  !  These  sighs 
And  prayers,  which,  in  this  golden  censer  mixed 
With  incense,  I  thy  Priest  hcfore  thee  bring. 
Now  therefore  bend  thine  ear 


*  There  is  a  peculiar  beauty,  and  most  api)osite 
significancy,  in  this  proverbial  saying,  as  used  by  the 
ancient  Israelites.  Horses  and  chariots  were  deemed,  in 
those  ages,thci)rinci  pal  strength  of  the  battle,  the  most 
formidable  apparatus  of  war.  Of  these  the  Israelites 
were  entirely  destitute.  Their  God  had  expressly 
forbidden  tliein  to  multiply  horses;  and  we  never 
read  of  their  bringing  any  considerable  number  of 
cavalry  into  the  field.  But,  so  long  as  they  enjoyed 
the  presence  of  their  prophets,  they  wanted  not  this 
arm  of  flesh.  They  had  more  than  an  equivalent  for 
chariots  and  horses,  in  the  fervent,  the  eS'ectual  pray- 
ers of  those  holy  men  of  God. 

t  They,  the  persons  and  performances  of  frail  men, 
"  shall  come  up  with  acceptance  on  mine  alt.ar,  saith 
the  Lord,"  Isa.  lx.7.  Which  is  explained  by  St.  Pe- 
ter's comment  ;  "  Ye  are  an  holy  priesthood,  to  offer 
up  spiritual  sacrifices,  acceptable  unto  God  by  .lesus 
Christ."  1  I'eter  ii.  5.  and  still  farther  ascertained  by. 
St.  Paul's  practice,  who,  when  he  addresses  the  ma- 
jesty of  heaven  with  any  petition,  or  presents  the  tri- 
bute of  praise,  presumes  not  to  do  either  the  one  or 
theother.but  in  the  blesse<l  Mediator's  name;  because, 
secluded  from  this  grand  recommendation,  they 
would  be  offensive  to  theawful  Jehovah,  "as  smoke 
in  his  nostrils;"  accompanied  with  it,  they  are  ac- 
ceptable, "as  the  sweet-sincUiug  incense." 


Tosupnlication;  lir-ar  hs  M!;"is  though  mute  1 
Unskiiful  with  what  vvnr.ls  to  inay,  let  me 
Inttrpret  f;)r  hi:n,  ine  his  advocate 
.'\nd  pro])itiation.     Ail  his  works  on  me. 
Good,  or  not  good,  iugr  'fl ;  my  merit  those 
Shall  perfect ;  and  for  these  my  death  shall  pay.» 

The  poet's  words  iire  very  emphatical. 
Yet  words  can  no  more  express  the  jireva- 
lence  of  our  Lord  s  negotiation,  than  the 
pictin-e  of  the  sun  can  diffuse  its  splendour, 
or  convey  its  warmth. 

T/ier.  Aly  s]>iritual  wants  are  many.  I 
have  many  duties  to  discharge,  and  many 
temptations  to  withstand  ;  many  corruptions 
to  mortify,  and  many  graces  to  cultivate,  or 
rathtr  to  r.cqiiire.  Yet  have  I  no  stock,  and 
no  strength  of  my  own. 

Asp.  I  rejoice  tliat  my  Theron  is  sensible 
of  his  ov.n  indigence.  The  good  Lord  keep 
us  both  in  this  respect,  as  little  children, 
whose  whole  de])endence  is  upon  their  nurse's 
care,  or  their  parent's  bounty  !  Then  may 
we,  having  such  a  sense  of  our  poverty,  and 
having  a  great  High-Piiest  over  the  house 
of  God,  come  boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace. 
We  may  apply,  through  the  righteousness  of 
Jesus  Christ,  for  all  needful  succour,  and 
for  every  desirable  blessing.  If  Solomon 
could  say,  "  Lord,  remember  David,  and  all 
his  trouble  :"  It  JMoses  could  say,  "  Lord 
remember  Abraham,  Lsaac,  and  Jacob,  thy 
servants  :"  how  much  more  confidently  may 
we  say,  "  Lord,  remember  Jesus,  the  Son 
of  thy  love  !  remember  Jesus,  and  all  his 
sufferings  ;  Jesus,  and  all  his  merits.  Shall 
they  be  sent  empty  away,  who  have  their 
Saviour's  obedience  to  plead?"  No  verily. 
Though  they  are  altogether  tmworthy  in 
themselves,  "  yet  worthy  is  the  Lamb  that 
\><is  slain,'  for  whose  sake  their  petitions 
should  be  granted^  and  their  evei-y  necessity 
supplied. 

Let  me  repeat  to  you  a  most  beautiful 
and  encouraging  portion  of  Scrijjture,  which 
you  may  look  upon,  under  all  your  wants,  as 
a  carte-blanche  put  into  your  hand  by  God 
all-sufficient :  "  Having  therefore,  brethren, 
boldness  to  enter  into  the  holiest  by  the 
blood  of  Jesus,  by  a  new  and  living  way 
which  he  has  consecrated  for  us,  through  the 
veil,  that  is  to  say,  his  flesh  ;  and  having  an 
High- Priest  over  the  house  of  God,  let  us 
draw  near  with  a  true  heart,  in  full  eissur- 
ance  of  faith."   Heb.  x.  19 — 22. 

The  a]K)stle,  in  this  jilace,  and  through- 
out this  whole  e])istle,  alludes  to  the  Mosaic 
ordinances,  in  order  to  show  that  the  privi- 
leges of  the  Christian  dispensation  were  typi- 
fied by,  yet  are  greatly  superior  to,  those  of 
the  Jewish.  Among  the  .lews,  none  but  the 
high-priest  was  permitted  to  set  a  foot 
within  the  holy  of  holies  ;  and  he  only  on 
the  solemn  day  of  expiation  :  Whereas,  all 
Christians  are  allowed  to  enter  into  the  im- 


•  Paradise  Lost,  Book  xi.  1. 22,  &c. 


464 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


rpcdi;tte  jivosonce  of  tne  most  liigli   God  ;  1  any  thing  of  ourovvii,  eitlier  for  present  joy, 
tn.'iv  liavc   tlio  nearest  access   to   him  who    or  future  glory. 


dwells  in  the  heaven  of  heavens  ;  and  this, 
not  once  in  the  year  only,  but  at  all  times, 
and  on  all  occasions.  The  high-priest  never 
made  that  awful  approach  but  with  the  blood 
of  a  slaughtered  animal :  We  have  blood  of 
infinitely  richer  value  to  atone  for  our  fail- 
ings and  recommend  our  addresses,  even  the 
blood  of  the  crucitied  Jesus.  Aaron  enter- 
ed through  the  vail  of  the  temple,  a  way 
which  was  soon  to  become  antiquated,  and  for 
ever  to  be  abolished  :  We  enter  by  a  far 
more  noble  way;  by  the  flesh  of  our  blessed 
Redeemer,  given  as  a  propitiatory  sacrifice 
for  our  sins ;  which  way  is  both  new  and 
living,  such  as  never  waxes  old,  will  subsist 
to  the  end  of  time,  and  leads  to  eternal  life. 

. Trusting  in  this   sacrifice,  and  entering 

by  this  way,  which  are  consecrated  on  pur- 
pose for  our  use,  we  may  not  only  draw 
near,  but  draw  near  "  with  boldness,"  with 
an  numble  lilial  confidence,  and  present  our 
supplications  with  faith — with  assurance  of 
faith — with  full  assurance  of  faith. 

How  strong  is  the  contrast,  and  how  fine 
the  gradation  !  how  precious  the  doctrine, 
and  how  free  the  privilege  ?  What  shall  we 
fear-,  if  we  believe  this  doctrine  ?  what  can 
we  lack,  if  we  improve  this  privilege  !  And 
why  should  not  we  believe  the  former,  why 
should  not  we  improve  the  latter  ?  since 
they  both  are  founded,  not  on  any  excellent 
endowments,  not  in  any  recommending  ac- 
tions of  our  own,  but  purely,  solely,  entirely 
on  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Ther.  There  may  come  seasons  of  de- 
sertion when  all  graces  are  languid,  if  not 
dead ;  when  the  light  of  God's  countenance 
is  suspended,  if  not  turned  into  darkness  ; 
and  the  man  is  more  like  a  lifeless  log  than 
a  zealous  Christian.  These  frames  of  mind 
I  have  heard  mentioned,  and  I  begin  to 
know  something  of  them  by  experience. 

Asp.  Then,  Theron,  \vhen  you  "  walk  in 
darkness  and  see  no  light"  of  sensible  com- 
fort, "trust  in  the  name,"  the  unchangeable 
grace,  "  of  the  Lord  ;  and  stay  upon"  the 
righteousness,  the  consummate  righteous- 
ness, of  "  your  God."  Isaiah  1.  10.  This 
is  not  barely  my  advice,  but  the  direction 
of  an,  infallible  guide.  This  agrees  also 
with  the  character  of  a  real  Christian,  as  it 
is  most  exactly  dra\vn  by  an  imerring  pen  : 
"  We  rejoice  in  Clirist  Jesus,  and  have  no 
confidence  ia  the  flesh;"*  no  reliance  on 


*  Phil.  iii.  3.  Exactly  drawn. — Perhaps  tliere  is  no 
where  extant,  a  finer,  a  more  complete,  or  so  lively  a 
picture  of  the  true  Christian.  It  is  in  miniature,  I 
own;  but  it  comprehends  all  the  master-lines  and 
every  distinguishing  feature.  "  We  are  they,  who 
worsliip  Godin  the  spirit ;  with  the  spiritual  homage 
of  a  renewed  heart;  with  faith,  love,  resignation. 
"  And  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus;"  in  him  look  for  all 
our  acceptance  with  God;  from  him  derive  all  the 
peace  of  our  minds ;  and  on  him  place  all  the  hope 
of  our  final  felicity.    "  And  have  no  confidence  in  the 


To  rely  on  the  elevation  of  our  spirits, 
or  the  enlargement  of  our  devotion,  is  like 
building  our  house  upon  the  ice,  «'hich  may 
abide  for  a  season,  but,  upon  the  first  alter- 
ation of  weather,  ceases  to  be  a  foundation, 
and  becomes  "  water  that  runneth  apace  :" 
Whereas,  to  derive  our  consolation  from  the 
Mediator's  righteousness  and  Jehovah's 
faithfulness,  is  to  build  our  edifice  upon  the 
rock,  which  "  may  not  be  removed,  but 
standeth  fast  for  ever."  The  former  of 
these,  even  amidst  all. our  changes,  is  invar- 
iably the  same  ;  the  latter,  notwithstanding 
all  our  unworthiness,  is  inviolably  sure. 
Therefore  the  fruit  of  that  righteousness  is 
jieace,  and  the  effect  of  this  faithfulness  is, 
if  not  rapturous  joy,  yet  "  quietness  and  as- 
surance for  ever."  Isaiah  xxxii.  17. 

So  that,  when  it  is  winter  in  my  soul, 
and  there  seems  to  be  a  dearth  on  all  my 
sensible  delights,  I  would  still  say  with  the 
Psalmist,  "  Why  art  thou  so  disquieted,  O 
my  soul  ?  Christ  is  the  same  amidst  all  thy 
derelictions.  '  He  is  a  green  fir-tree,' 
Hos.  xiv.  8.  which  never  loses  its  verdure. 
Under  his  shadow  thou  mayest  always  find 
repose.  His  merit  and  atonement  are  still 
mighty  to  save  ;  they  constitute  an  ever- 
lasting and  nifinite  righteousness.  The 
promises  of  God,  through  his  medtation, 
'  are  yea  and  amen,'  2  Cor.  i.  20  ;  are  un- 
questionably and  inalienably  thine." 

Ther.  It  is  very  probable  I  may  meet 
with  afliictions — death  in  my  family,  or 
disease  in  my  person.  Disappointment 
may  frustrate  my  designs.  Providence  may 
wear  a  frowning  aspect,  as  though  the  Lord 
had  a  controversy  with  his  sinful  creature, 
and  was  making  him  to  possess  the  iniqui- 
ties of  his  youth.  And  what  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  support  and  to  cheer  in  such  a 
gloomy  hour  ?* 

Asp.  The  righteousness  of  Christ — 
Nothing  is  so  sovereign  to  calm  our  fears, 
and  remove  all  apprehensions  of  the  divine 
wrath.  Apprehensions  of  the  divine  wrath 
would  draw  the  curtains  of  horror  aroimd 
our  sick-beds,  and  throw  upon  oiu-  lan- 
guishing eye-lids  the  shadow  of  death  ;f  but 
a  believing  improvement  of  Christ's  satis- 


flesh  ;"  renouncing  ourselves,  in  every  view,  as  un- 
profitable servants;  disclaiming  all  our  own  works 
and  attamments,  as  defective  services. 

*  The  sufficiency  of  Christ's  righteousness  to  an- 
swer all  these  important  and  delightful  ends,  is  ex- 
cellently disiilayed  in  Mr.  Rawlin'ssermons,  on  Christ 
the  righteousness  of  his  people  ;  in  which  the  public 
have  seen  the  grand  and  amiable  essentials  of  the 
gospel,  delivered  in  masculine  language,  defended  by 
nervous  reasoning,  and  animated  with  a  lively  devo- 
tion. „.,,..  , 

t  Alluding  to  that  description  of  tribulation  and 
an<Tuish,  v/huh,  1  bflieve,  no  person  of  sensibility  can 
read  without  shuddering  :  "  My  face  is  foul  with 
weepinj;,  and  on  my  eye-Uds  is  the  shadow  ol  death. 
Job  XVI.  IG. 


DIALOGUE  XVII 

faction  for  our  ofiences,  clears  up  the  inourn- 
ful  eccne,  and  takes  away  tlie  sting  of  tri- 
bulation. 

Attending  to  this  great  propitiation,  the 
Bufferer  sees  his  sins  forgiven,  and  his  God 
reconciled.  From  whence  he  concludes, 
that  the  severest  afflictions  are  only  fatherly 
corrections  ;  shall  not  exceed  his  ability  to 
bear  ;  and  shall  assuredly  obtain  a  gracious 
issue.  He  can  fetch  comfort  from  that  cheer- 
ing word,  "  I  will  be  with  him  in  trouble  ;" 
and  expect  the  accomplishment  of  that  most 
consolatory  promise,  "  I  will  deliver  him, 
and  bring  him  to  honom-."  Psalm  xci.  15. 
These  supports  have  enabled  the  s;unts  to 
kiss  the  rod,  and  bless  the  hand  which  chas- 
tised them  ;  to  possess  their  souls,  not  in 
patience  only,  but  in  thankfulness  also ; 
while  they  have  looked  inward,  and  dis- 
cerned their  absolute  need  of  these  bitter 
but  salutary  medicines  ;  have  looked  up- 
ward, and  beheld  the  cup  in  a,  most  wise 
and  tender  Physician's  hand ;  have  looked 
forward,  with  a  joyful  hope,  to  that  better 
world,  where  God  will  wijje  away  all  tears 
from  their  eyes,  and  there  shall  be  no  more 
sorrow,  nor  any  more  pain, 

Ther.  The  last  occasion  of  need  is  the 
trying  hour  of  death,  and  the  tremendous 
day  of  judgment.  Will  this  righteousness 
carry  us  with  safety  through  the  darksome 
VHlley,  and  present  us  with  acceptance  at 
the  dreadful  tribunal  ? 

Axp.  It  will,  it  vnW — This  silences  all 
the  curses  of  the  law,  and  disarms  death  of 
every  terror.  To  believe  in  this  righteous 
ness,  is  to  meet  death  at  our  Saviour's  side ; 
or  rather,  like  good  old  Simeon,  with  the 
Saviour  in  our  arms.  "  They  overcame," 
says  the  beloved  disci])le,  they  overcame  the 
last  enemy,  ntrt  by  natural  fortitude,  or  phi- 
losophic resolution,  but  "  by  the  blood  of 
the  Lamb,"  Rev.  xii.  11  ;  by  a  believing 
application  of  the  victorious  Redeemer's 
merit.  "  I  know,"  adds  the  heroic  apostle, 
"whom  I  have  believed,"  2  Tim.  i,  12;  I 
am  assured,  ihat  my  Jesus  is  infinitely  faith- 
ful, and  will  not  desert  me ;  that  his  ran- 
som is  absolutely  sufficient,  and  cannot  de- 
ceive me.  Therefore,  with  a  holy  bravery, 
he  bids  defiance  to  death  ;  or  rather,  tri- 
umphs over  it,  as  a  vanquished  enemy  : 
"  Thanks  be  to  God  who  giveth  us  the  vic- 
tory, through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ !"  1 
Cor.  XV.  57.  Nay,  through  the  wonderful 
eflicacy  of  Christ's  propitiation,  "  death  is 
ours,"  1  Cor.  iii.  22 ;  not  our  foe,  but  our 
friend  and  deliverer.  We  may  number  it 
and  rest  satisfied  that 


4Si 


among  our  treasures 
"  to  die,  is  gain." 

What  though  our  tlcsh  see  corruption  ? 
though  this  body,  vile  at  present,  be  made 
viler  .'till,  by  dwelling  amidst  worms,  and 
mouldering  in  the  dust  ?   yet  through  his 


righteousness,  who  is  the  resurrection  a?id 
the  life,  it  shall  shake  oflf  the  dishonouis  of 
the  grave  ;  it  shall  rise  to  a  new  and 'illus- 
trious state  of  existence ;  it  shall  be  made 
like  the  glorious  and  immortal  body  of  our 
triumphant  Lord.  If  the  body  be  so  refined, 
so  exalted,  what  snVi  be  the  dignity,  what 
the  perfection,  of  the  soul?  or  rather  of  soul 
and  body  both,  when  they  are  happily  and 
indissolubly  united  at  the  resurrection  of  the 
just? — Shall  they  have  any  thing  to  fear 
when  the  judgment  is  set,  and  the  !;ooks  are 
opened  ?  It  is  probable  there  will  be  no 
accusation,  it  is  certain  "  there  is  no  condem- 
nation to  them  that  are  in  Christ  Jesus." 
Rom.  viii.  L  Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to 
their  charge  ?  "  It  is  God,"— not  man,  or 
angel,  or  any  creature,  but  God — "  that  jus- 
tifies them."  The  God  whose  law  was 
broke,  the  God  to  whom  vengeance  bclong- 
eth,  he  himself  pronounces  them  innocent, 
because  their  iniquities  have  been  laid  upon 
Christ ;  he  himself  pronounces  them  righte- 
ous, because  they  are  interested  in  the  obe- 
dience of  their  Redeemer;  on  these  ac- 
counts, he  himself  pronounces  them  bless- 
ed, and  gives  them  an  abundant  entrance 
into  the  joy  of  their  Lord. 

But  what  can  express,  or  who  can  ima- 
gine their  happiness,  when  they  take  up  their 
abode  in  the  palaces  of  heaven,  amidst  the 
choirs  of  angels,  and  under  the  light  of 
God's  countenance  !  when  they  possess  the 
"  hope  of  righteousness,"  Gal.  v.  5.  ;  when 
they  wear  "  tiie  crown  of  righteousness,"  2 
Tim.  iv.  8.  and  receive  that  great,  that  eter- 
nal salvation,  which  is  an  adequate  recom- 
pense for  the  humiliation  and  agonies  of  "Je- 
sus Christ  the  righteous,"  1  John  ii.  1. 

Come  then,  my  dear  Theron,  let  us 
henceforth  be  as  branches  ingrafted  into  the. 
heavenly  Vine  ;  derive  all  our  sap,  all  our 
moisture,  all  our  consolation,  from  his  ful- 
ness. Let  us  live  upon  our  all-sufficient  Re- 
deemer, as  the  Israelites  subsisted  on  their 
manna  from  heaven,  and  their  waters  from 
the  rock,  and  not  wish  for  other,  as  we  can- 
not possibly  enjoy  better  sustenance. 

Titer.  Is  this  the  meaning  of  our  Lord's 
exhortation,  when  be  shews  the  necessity  of 
eating  his  flesh,  and  drinking  his  blood  ? 

Asp.  It  is  the  very  same.  A  repeated 
and  incessant  application  of  our  Saviour's 
merits,  for  all  the  purposes  of  piety  and  sal- 
vation, is  the  kernel  of  thi:^  nut,  the  mean- 
ing of  this  metaphor.  When  we  habitually 
advert  to  .lesus  Christ,  as  dying  for  our 
sins,  and  rising  again  for  our  justification  ; 
performing  all  righteousness,  that  we  may 
be  entitled  to  an  eternal  crown  :  and  inter- 
ceding in  heaven,  that  we  may  be  filled  with 
■ill  the  fulness  of  God  ;  then  we  eat  his 
llesh,  and  drink  his  blood  ;  then  we  derive 
a  life  of  solid  comfort,  and  real  godliness, 
2h 


466 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


from  the  mediatorial  offices ;  just  as  we  de- 
rive the  continuance  of  our  natural  life  from 
the  daily  use  of  alimentary  recruits. 

Ther.  Your  discourse  brings  to  my  re- 
membrance that  magnificent  and  beautiful 
passage  in  scripture,  where  Christ  is  called 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  Your  doctrine 
sets  the  comparison  in  a  very  advantageous 
light ;  gives  it  the  utmost  force  and  the 
greatest  propriety.  The  righteousness  of 
Christ,  according  to  your  account,  is  as  ex- 
tensively useful  in  the  Christian  life,  as  the 
beams  of  that  grand  luminary  are  in  material 
nature.  The  sun  fills  the  air ;  where  it  dif- 
fuses light,  and  creates  day.  The  sun  pene- 
trates the  ocean  ;  from  whence  it  exhales  va- 
pours, and  forms  the  clouds.  In  the  veget- 
able creation,  the  sun  raises  the  sap,  and 
protrudes  the  gems;  unfolds  the  leaves,  and 
paints  the  blossom  ;  distends  the  fruit,  and 
concocts  the  juices.  Turn  we  to  the  animal 
world  ;  the  sun  delights  the  eye,  and  glad- 
dens the  heart ;  it  awakens  millions  of  in- 
sects into  being,  and  imparts  that  general 
joy  which  every  sensible  creature  feels.  In- 
deed there  is  nothing  hid  from  the  heat 
thereof. 

Asp.  Thus  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that 
true  and  only  Sun  of  Rig!iteousness,  arises 
on  his  people  with  healing  in  his  wings, 
Mai.  iv.  2  ;  so  various,  so  efficacious  and  so 
extensive  are  his  influences.  Like  a  sun, 
he  enlightens  and  enlivens  ;  like  wings,  he 
cherishes  and  protects ;  like  a  remedy,  he 
heals  and  restores ;  and  all,  by  virtue  of  his 
righteousness,  on  account  of  his  righteous- 
ness. Nor  can  we  doubt,  nor  need  we  won- 
der, if  we  consider  its  nature  and  its  author. 
Its  nature  ;  it  is  consummately  excellent,  has 
every  kind  and  every  degree  of  perfection. 
Its  author ;  it  is  the  righteousness  and  obe- 


dience of  that  incomparable  Person,  in  whom 
dwells  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead. 

It  must  therefore— you  will  permit  me  to 
sum  up  in  a  word  what  has  been  displayed 
at  large, — it  must  be  fully  answerable  to  the 
demands  of  the  law,  even  in  its  highest 
purity  and  utmost  exactness.  It  is  infinite- 
ly superior  to  the  demerit  of  sin,  and  en- 
tirely absolves  from  all  guilt,  entirely  ex- 
empts from,  all  condemnation.  It  is  a  most 
valid  and  never-failing  plea  against  the  ac- 
cusations of  Satan,  and  the  challenges  of 
conscience.  It  establishes  an  undoubted 
title  to  every  blessing,  whether  in  time  or  in 
eternity,  whether  of  grace  or  of  glory.  It  is 
a  sfure  support  for  the  Christian,  in  an  hour 
of  desertion,  and  in  the  agonies  of  xleath. 
Casting  anchor  on  this  bottom,  he  may  dis-' 
miss  every  fear,  and  ride  out  every  storm. 
Leaning  upon  this  staff,  he  may  go  down  to 
the  repose  of  the  grave  ;  and  neither  be  ap- 
palled at  the  solemn  harbingers  of  disso- 
lution, nor  terrified  at  its  far  more  awful 
consequences.  The  merit  of  this  righteous- 
ness, and  the  power  of  its  Divine  Author, 
will  unseal  the  tomb ;  will  bring  forth  the 
sleeping  dust  from  the  chambers  of  putre- 
faction, and  build  up  the  whole  man  into 
immortality  and  glory.  By  this  he  will  be 
presented  "  without  spot,"  Eph.  v.  27. ; 
presented  faultless,  Jude  24.  ;  yea,  be  pre- 
sented perfect.  Col.  i.  'i8-,  and  with  exceed- 
ing joy  before  the  throne. 

What  a  gift  then  is  the  righteousness  of 
Christ !  Blessed  he  God  for  all  the  indul- 
gent dispensations  of  providence  !  Blessed 
be  God  fur  all  the  benefical  productions  of 
nature  !  But,  above  all,  blessed  be  God  for 
the  trancendent  and  unspeakable  gift  of  Christ 
— for  the  unsearchable  and  infinite  treasures 
of  "his  righteousness." 


TABLE  OF  THE  TEXTS 


MORE  OR  LESS  ILLUSTRATED  IN  THIS  WORK. 


37- 


i.  14. 
ii.  IJ. 


GBNGSts  ii.  17. 

iii.  15. 

V.  3. 

vi.  3. 

vi.  5. 

vi.  14. 

viii.  21. 

xxii.  2. 

xxii.  14. 

xxii.  18. 
Exodus  XX.  2. 

xxviii.  VS, 

xxviii  ,'j»t. 

xxxiv  7- 
Leviticus  x\  i.  .'>. 

xvii.  3,  4. 
Numbers  xxiii.  yi. 

XX  V.  /■.,  0. 

XXXV.  1.). 
Deuteronomy  xxxi 
xxxi 
Judges  xviii.  (i. 

1  Samuel  xxiii.  25. 

2  Samuel  xv.  31. 

xviii.  .33. 
xxiii.  1. 
xxiii.  4. 
xxiii.  .'). 

1  Kings  xviii.  27. 

2  Kings  ii.  12. 

xiv.  .'). 
XX.  3. 
Nehemiali  ii.  4. 
Job  i.  1. 

ix.  20,  il,  30-3?. 
xi.  12. 
XV.  U— k;. 

xix.2.%  27. 
xxvi.a. 
xxxiii.22. 
xxxvi.  23. 
xxxvii.  ](;. 
xxxviij.  7. 
xxxviii.  ic. 
xli.  22. 
xlii.  6. 
Psalms  viii.  0— f. 
xiv.  2,  3. 
XV.  4. 
xxi'.  H. 
xxiii.  3. 
xxix.  4— fi 
xxix. !). 
11.5. 
ivii.  1). 
Ix.  6. 
Ixii.  12. 
Ixviii.KI. 
Ixxi.  15.     - 
Ixxi.  HJ. 
Ixxiii.22. 
Ixxxix.  3. 
Ixxxix.  15,  10. 
ciil.  I,  2. 
civ.  l(i. 
cxxxiii.  2. 
CXXXV.7. 
f  xliii.  2. 
cxllv.  2. 
Proverbs  xxi.  1. 
xxii.  15. 
XXV.  11. 
Ecclesiastcs  vii.  6. 
xii.  .3. 
xii.  (;. 
Canticles  1  !). 
ii.* 

ii.  U,:?,  13 
ii.  U, 
Isaiah  Ii.  11. 


Paffe 

270 

Isaiah  iv  6. 

332 

V.  26. 

.  270 

vi.  3. 

276 

ix.  6. 

274 

ix.  6. 

169 

x.33,34. 

274 

xi.  1. 

.  402 

xi.  10. 

404 

xiii.  19—22.    . 

333 

XXV  i.  8,  9. 

230 

xxvii.  5. 

333 

xxviii.  7. 

312 

xxviii.  12. 

184 

xxviii.  16. 

167 

xxviii.  18. 

158 

XXX.  18. 

170 

xxxiii.  16. 

■    320 

xl.  22, 

260 

xlii.l. 

413 

xlii.  6,  7. 

-  390 

xliii.  6. 

276 

xliii.  25. 

.    207 

xliv.  22. 

323 

xiv.  24- 

.    402 

1.  10. 

333 

li.  6. 

367 

Ii.  9,  10. 

256 

Iii.  7. 

310 

Iii.  13. 

463 

liii.  4. 

313 

liii.  6. 

241 

liii.  11. 

323 

Ix.  7. 

310 

Ixi.  1. 

240 

Ixi.  10. 

2m 

lxiv.6. 

273 

Jeremiah  iii.  22. 

437 

iv.  1<). 

.    3.'.6 

V.  22. 

333 

vii.  22. 

3.56 

xvii.  3. 

356 

xxiii.  5,  6. 

-    35!) 

xlvii.  3. 

376 

Ezekiel  xvi.  6. 

382 

xviii.  27. 

-     333 

Daniel  iii.  ]. 

387 

ix.  9. 

27;! 

ix.  24. 

21!) 

Hosca  ii.  lo.  2(1 

341 

ii.  23.  '  '     . 

334 

vii.  8. 

-     380 

xiv.  5. 

443 

Joel  ii.  3. 

272 

iii.  15,  10. 

293 

Jonah  iii.  5. 

-   44(; 

Micah  vi.  7,  0. 

L'15 

vii.  19. 

424 

Ilabakkuk  iii. :). 

3(i4 
3:14 

iii.  4. 
iii.  11. 

301 

iii.  19. 

420 

Haggni  ii.  7. 

335 

Zcthariah  iii.  4,  fl. 

437 

iii.  i>. 

.     252 

iv.  2,  3,  l'> 

406 

vi.  12,  13." 

3.'J6 

ix.  9. 

241 

xi.  10. 

434 

xiii.  1. 

371 

xiii.  7. 

-  273 

xiii.  7. 

153 

Malachi  iii.  16,17. 

148 

iv.  2. 

282 

Matthew  v.  3. 

.  282 

V.20. 

335 

vi.  20. 

172 

vi.  33. 

10-2 

viii.  22. 

38(1 

xi.  28. 

2i^ 

Xiv.  24. 

Pa/re 
443 
464 
240 

-  202 
423 
461 
461 

.  461 
266 
321 
183 
298 

ass 

341 

170 
441 

-  380 
279 
316 
433 

-  187 
419 
462 
S35 
436 
336 

.  37a 
392 
369 
179 
177 

228 
.  463 
219 
335 
327 
4.34 
458 
376 
.  17-' 
275 
375 


265 
423 
336 
407 
439 
448 
155 
454 
4.'>:i 
432 
229 
39» 
368 
180 
4.")8 
437 
333 
255 
360 
<(i6 
25.) 
3,37 
21.1 
462 
181 
308 
148 
466 
217 
217 
4.'-.H 
342 
t76 
427 


463 


Matthew  xvl.  £4. 
Kvii.  17. 
xvii.  27. 
xviii.  33. 
xix.  17. 
xxii.  II. 
xx\r.  30. 
xxvi.  41. 
xxvii.  9, 
Mark  ii.  14. 
vii.  22. 
Tii.  3- 
ix.  3. 
xi.  20. 
xiv.  13. 
xvi.  14. 
Luke  i.  35. 
X.  30. 
xii.  50. 
xvi.  9,  12. 
xvii.  10. 
xviii.  13,  14. 
xix.  48. 
xxiii.  34 
xxiv.  25. 
xxiv.  47. 
xxiv.  32. 
John  i.  12. 
i.  14. 

i.47.        - 
ii.  14. 
ii.  25.       a 
iii.  R. 
iii.  IG. 
iii.  18,  36. 
iv.  34. 
vi.  32. 
vi.  35. 
vii.  37. 
xii.  45. 
xiv.  30. 
XV.  6. 
xvi.  8— 11. 
xvii.  4. 
xvii.  24. 
xvii.  24. 
XX.  28,  29. 
Acts  iii.  8. 
iii.  14. 
ix.  11. 
X.  35. 
xi.  18. 
xiii.  38. 
xvii.  27. 
xviii.  17- 
xix.  21. 
xxvi.  18. 
xxvi.  25. 
Romans  i.  16,  17. 

i.  17.        - 

ii.  15. 

iii.  19. 

iii.  20. 

iii.  21,  22. 

iii.  25,  26. 

iii.  31. 

iv.3. 

iv.  4. 

iv.  5. 

iv.  6,  7- 

iv.  14. 

V.6. 

y.  8. 

V.  12. 

V.  14. 

V.  17. 

V.  17. 

V.  18. 

T.  19. 

V.  21.  ' 

vi.  6. 

Vii.  9. 

vii.  18. 

viii.7. 

ix.  30—32. 

x.  a 

X.4, 
X.9. 
xi.  6. 

1  Corinthians  i.  30. 
ii.  14. 
',  iii.  22. 

V.7. 
vi.  11. 
vi.  19. 
vUi.  1. 


TABLE  OF  TEXTS. 


317 

1  Corinthians  xii.  12. 

446 

XV.  47. 

370 

XV.  .52. 

419 

2  Corinthians  iii.  6. 

217 

iii.  7. 

417 

.    iv.  17. 

21fi 

V.  14. 

3^ 

V.  14. 

374 

V.20. 

371 

v,21. 

309 

vii.  10. 

363 

viii.  2. 

176 

viii.  12. 

370 

Galatians  i.  7.            • 

371 

ii.  15, 16. 

446 

ii.  19. 

360 

ii.21. 

152 

iii.  10. 

362 

iii.  13. 

458 

iii.  24. 

3U2 

EpheitiansiS. 

253 

i.  13. 

149 

i.  22. 

363 

ii.  3. 

446 

ii.8. 

422 

iii.  12. 

148 

iii.  18. 

461 

iii.  19. 

305 

iv.  16. 

221 

Philippiansi.  10, 11. 

371 

ii.  12, 13. 

371 

iii.  3. 

E76 

iii.  8,  9. 

184 

Colossiansl.  21. 

215 

ii.  1. 

361 

ii.  9. 10. 

-  432 

iii.  16. 

260 

I  Timothy  ii.  6. 

422 

2  Timothy  i.  12. 

•i63 

iii.  16. 

363 

iv.  8. 

332 

ritusi.  15. 

347 

iii.  3— 8. 

363 

iii.  3. 

256 

iii.  8. 

305 

Hebrews  ii.  10. 

439 

iii.  6. 

370 

iii.  14. 

.364 

iv.  12.    - 

392 

vi.  17.  18. 

215 

vi.  22. 

225 

viii.  5. 

227 

viii.  10—12. 

293 

viii.  10. 

317 

ix.  15. 

400 

ix.  16,  17. 

253 

X.  14. 

161 

X.  19-22. 

342 

X.  20. 

448 

xi.  1. 

305 

xi.  17. 

273 

xi.  13. 

247 

xii.  2. 

332 

xiii.  12. 

151 

James  i.  6. 

343 

ii.  21,24. 

259 

iii.  9. 

245 

iii.  13. 

200 

iii.  15. 

343 

v.  17. 

245 

1  Peter  i.  2. 

430 

i.  13. 

184 

iu.  18. 

194 

V.7.       - 

406 

2  Peter  i.  L 

365 

1  John  i.  9. 

344 

iii.  16. 

197 

iii.  23. 

344 

iv.  10. 

328 

V.  11. 

296 

2  John  6. 

s547 

Jude  19. 

276 

Revelation  iii.  15; 

.  276 

iii.  18. 

260 

iii.  20. 

345 

iv.  5. 

346 

iv.7. 

254 

V.  9,  10. 

245 

vii.  14, 15. 

.347 

viii.  8,  9. 

297 

xii.  11. 

465 

xiv.  13. 

166 

xviii.  1. 

346 

xix.  8. 

29r, 

XX.  n. 

397 

Jixii.  17. 

PaifK 
289 
194 
339 
248 
243 
152 
311 
179 
444 
348 
396 
a98 
S4G 
245 
347 
316 
224 
246 
179 
224 
188 
449 
408 
277 
223 
439 
449 
408 
294 
S83 
429 
464 
343 
£76 
469 
374 
153 
179 
465 
347 
421 
232 
231 
3fH 
201 
-  189 
4.38 
408 

-  sae 

449 

199 
174 
188 
257 
171 
418 
171 
463 

-  174 
435 
400 

-  438 
S61 
168 
442 
218 
277 
145 
308 

-  310 
230 
438 
430 
436 
342 
190 
447 
444 
441 
436 
397 
277 
448 
338 
428 
369 
426 
3C9 
242 

377 

465 

-  231 
37i; 
S3n 
373 
441 


A.SPASIO  VINDICATED, 


IN 


ELEVEN  LETTERS 


FROM 


MR    HERVEY  TO  THE  REV.  JOHN  WESLEY. 


PREFACE. 


The  following  letters  were  written  by  my 
late  brother  in  answer  to  a  piece  which 
was  fii-st  sent  him  from  the  Rev.  Mr.  John 
Wesley,  by  way  of  private  letter,  contain- 
ing some  remarks  which  that  gentleman 
had  made  on  reading  Theron  and  Aspasio. 
When  my  brother  had  read  it  over,  he 
thought  it  best  to  be  silent,  as  it  contained 
nothing  which  could  materially  affect  his 
judgment  in  regard  to  the  work  it  censured. 
For  this  reason,  as  well  as  for  peace  sake, 
he  laid  it  by  him  unanswered.  Mr.  Wes- 
ley then  published  a  pamphlet,  which  he 
entitled,  a  Presersative  against  Unsettled 
Notions  in  Religion ;  in  which  he  printed 
the  above-mentioned  letter. 

This  riiy  brother  looked  upon  as  a  sum- 
mons to  the  bar  of  the  public,  and  upon 
this  occasion,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  dated 
June  23,  17o8,  writes  as  follows  : — 

"  My  Dear  Friend, — I  little  thought, 
when  I  put  Mr.  Wesley's  niamiscript  into 
your  hand,  that  I  should  see  it  in  print  so 
soon.  I  took  very  little  notice  of  it,  and 
let  it  lie  by  me  several  months,  without 
giving  it  an  attentive  consideration.*  It 
seemed  to  me  so  palpably  weak,  dealing 
only  in  positive  assertions  and  positive  de- 
nials, that  I  could  not  imagine  he  would 
adventure  it  into  the  world,  without 
great  alterations.  But  it  is  now  come 
abroad,  just  as  you  received  it,  in  a  two 
shillijig  pamphlet,  entitled,  a  Preservative 
against  Unsettled  Notions  in  Religion.  Of 
this  pamphlet,  what  he  has  wrote  against 
me  makes  only  a  small  j)art.  Now,  then, 
tlie  question  is,  whether  I  shall  attempt  to 
answer  it?  Give  me  your  opinion,  as  you 
have  given  me  your  assistance ;  and  may 
the  Father  of  mercies  give  you  an  increase 
of  knouledge  and  utterance,  of  peace  and 
joy  in  tli(t  Holy  ( Jhost." 

iJetweeu  this  and  the  October  following, 
my  brother  began  the  letters   contained  in 


•  Afterwards  he  read  it  ag.Vm,  and  gave  it,  what 
he  calls  ill  the  bcyimiinj  of  the  (irsl  letter,  "  a  cure- 
fill  pertiiul." 


this  volume,  of  which  he  thus  speaks  in 
another  letter  to  his  friend,  dated  October 
2i,  1738. 

"  My  Dear  Friend, — Let  me  repeat 
my  thanks  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken, 
and  for  the  assistance  you  have  given  me 
in  relation  to  my  controversy  with  ]\Ir. 
Wesley.  He  is  so  imfair  in  his  quotations, 
and  so  magisterial  in  his  manner,  that  I 
find  it  no  small  difficulty  to  preserve  the 
decency  of  the  gentleman,  and  the  meek- 
ness of  the  Christian,  in  my  intended  an- 
swer. May  our  divine  Master  aid  me  in 
both  these  instances,  or  else  not  suffer  me 
to,\\Tite  at  all." 

When  in  the  December  following  I  was 
sent  for  to  Weston,  in  the  very  last  period 
of  my  brother's  long  illness,  I  asked  him 
the  evening  before  he  died,  "  what  he  would 
have  done  with  the  letters  to  Mr.  Wesley  ; 
whether  he  would  have  them  pu])lished 
after  his  death  ?"  He  answered,  "  by  no 
means,  because  he  had  only  transcribed 
about  half  of  them  fair  for  the  press,  but  as 
the  corrections  and  alterations  of  the  latter 
part  were  mostly  in  short-hand,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  understand  them,  especially  as 
some  of  the  short-hand  was  entirely  his 
own,  and  others  could  not  make  it  out ; 
therefore,  he  said,  as  it  is  not  a  finished 
l)iece,  I  desire  you  will  think  no  more  about 
it." 

As  these  were  his  last  orders  concerning 
these  letters,  I  thought  it  right  to  obey 
them,  and  therefore  I  withstood  the  repeat- 
ed solicitations  of  many  of  his  friends  who 
wanted  to  have  them  printed  ;  alleging  the 
service  they  might  be  of  to  allay  thegroimd- 
less  prejudices,  which  the  Preservative  might 
occasion  in  the  minds  of  many  against  my 
brother's  other  writings,  as  well  as  the. 
utility  of  them  in  general,  as  they  contain 
so  masterly  a  defence  of  "  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus." 

But  notwithstanding  the  regard  I  had 
for  the  persons  who  solicited  tlie  publica- 
tion, I  could  not  be  persuaded  to  piiiit  tlia 
letters ;    and  they  never  had  appeared  in 


472 


PREFACE. 


public  with  my  consent,  had  not  a  siiirepti- 
tious  edition  of  them  hitely  made  its  way 
from  the  press,  and  was  I  not  imder  a  firm 
persuasion  that  it  will  be  followed  by  more. 

As  this  is  the  case,  I  think  it  my  duty  to 
the  memory  of  my  late  brother,  to  send  forth 
as  correct  an  edition  as  I  possil)ly  can  ;  for 
as  to  that  which  has  appeared  (from  what 
editor  I  know  not,)  it  is  so  faulty  and  in- 
correct, that  but  little  judgment  can  be 
formed  from  it,  of  the  propriety  and  force 
of  my  brother's  answers  to  Mr.  Wesley. 

As  to  the  unfairness  of  publishing  my 
brother's  letters  without  my  consent,  and 
the  injustice  to  his  memory,  in  sending  so 
mangled  a  performance  out  under  his  name, 
they  are  too  apparent  to  need  any  proof ; 
and  though  the  editor,  as  I  have  been  in- 
formed, gave  away  the  whole  impression,  so 
that  it  is  plain,  lucre  was  not  the  motive  of 


his  proceeding,  and  I  would  cliaritably  hope 
he  did  it  with  a  view  of  benefiting  his  read- 
ers, yet  it  is  so  like  doing  evil  that  good  may 
come,  as,  in  my  opinion,  to  be  quite  unjusti- 
fiable. 

However,  as  tlie  only  way  now  left  to 
remedy  in  some  sort  what  has  been  done,  and 
to  prevent  a  further  imposition  on  the  public 
from  worse  motives  than  actuated  this  pub- 
lisher, I  have  called  a  friend  to  my  assist- 
ance, and  by  this  means  present  the  reader 
with  as  perfect  a  copy  of  these  letters,  as 
can  possibly  be  made  out  from  the  original 
manuscript  in  my  hands. 

That  the  reader  may  judge  more  clearly 
of  the  state  of  the  controversy  between  my 
late  brother  and  Mr.  Wesley,  I  have  thought 
it  right  to  subjoin  Mr.  Wesley's  letter,  word 
for  word,  as  it  stands  in  the  Preservative. 


Mr.  WESLEY'S  LETTER.* 


DilAr  Sir, — A  considerable  time  since, 
I  >.ent  you  a  few  hasty  thoughts,  which  oc- 
curred to  me  on  reading  the  Dialogues  be- 
tween TiiF.RON  and  Aspasio.  I  have  not 
been  favomed  with  any  answer.  Yet  upon 
another  and  a  more  careful  persiial  of  them, 
I  could  not  but  set  down  some  obvious  re- 
flections, which  I  would  rather  have  com- 
municated before  those  Dialogues  were  pub- 
lished. 

In  the  first  Dialogue  there  are  several  just 
a!id  strong  observations,  which  may  be  of  use 
to  every  serious  reader.  In  the  second,  is 
not  the  description  offen  too  laboured,  the 
language  too  stiff  and  affected  ?  Yet  the  re- 
flections on  the  creation  make  abundant  a- 
mends  for  this. 

"  Is  justification  more  or  less  than  God's 
pardoning  and  accepting  a  sinner  through 
the  merits  of  Christ?"  Tliat  God  herein 
"  jcckons  the  righteousness  and  obedience 
which  Christ  performed  as  our  own,"  I 
allow,  if  by  that  ambiguous  expression  you 
mean  only,  as  you  here  explain  it  yourself, 
"  These  are  as  effectual  for  obtaining  our 
salvation,  as  if  they  were  our  own  person;d 
qualifications." 

"  We  are  not  solicitous  as  to  any  particular 
set  of  phrases.  Only  let  men  be  humbled, 
as  repenting  criminals  at  Christ's  feet,  let 
them  rely  as  devoted  pensioners  on  his 
merits,  and  they  are  undoubtedly  in  the  way 

•  The  quotntioiis  from  Tlieron  and  Aspasio  are  ilis- 
tiii^ishea  by  double  inverted  commas. 


to  a  blissful  immortality."  Then  for  Christ's 
sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  tlie  immortal  souls 
which  he  has  purchased  with  his  blood,  do 
not  dispute  for  that  particular  phi'ase,  the 
imputed  righteousness  of  Christ.  It  is  not 
scriptural,  it  is  not  necessary.  Men  who 
scruple  to  use,  men  who  never  heard  the  ex- 
pression, may  yet  be  humbled  as  repenting 
criminals  at  his  feet,  and  rely  as  devoted  pen- 
sioners on  his  merits.  But  it  has  done  im- 
mense hurt.  I  have  had  abundant  proof, 
that  the  fi'oqucnt  u.se  of  this  unnecessary 
phrase,  instead  of  furthering  men's  progress 
in  vital  holiness,  has  made  them  satisfied  with- 
out any  holiness  at  all ;  yea,  and  encouraged 
them  to  work  all  uncleanness  with  greediness, 

"  To  ascribe  pardon  to  Christ's  passive, 
eternal  life  to  his  active  righteousness,  is 
fanclfid  ratliQr  than  judicious.  His  uni- 
versal obedience  from  his  liirth  to  his  death, 
is  the  one  foundation  of  my  hope." 

This  is  unquestionably  light.  Eut  if  it 
be,  there  is  no  manner  of  need  to  make  the 
imputation  of  his  active  righteousness  a' 
sejiarate  and  laboured  head  of  discourse. 
O  that  you  had  been  content  with  this  plain 
scriptural  account,  and  spared  some  of  the 
Dialogues  and  Letters  that  follow  ! 

The  third  and  fourth  Dialogues  contain 
an  admirable  illustration  and  confirmation  of 
the  great  doctrine  of  Christ's  satisfaction. 
Yet  even  here  I  observe  a  few  passages, 
which  are  liable  to  some  exception. 

"  Satisfaction  was  made  to   the   divine 


MR  WESLEY'S  LETTER. 


473 


law."  I  do  not  rememljor  any  such  expres- 
sion in  Scripture.  This  way  of  speaking  of 
the  law,  as  a  person  injured  and  to  be  satis- 
fied, seems  hardly  defensible. 

"  The  death  of  Christ  procured  the  par- 
don and  acceptance  of  believers,  even  be- 
fore he  came  in  the  flesh."  Yea,  and  ever 
since.  In  this  we  all  agree.  And  why 
should  we  contend  for  any  thing  more  ? 

"  All  the  benefits  of  the  new  covenant 
are  the  purchase  of  his  blood."  Surely 
tliey  are.  And  after  this  has  been  fully 
proved,  where  is  the  need,  where  is  the  use, 
of  contending  so  strenuously  for  the  impu- 
tation of  his  righteousness,  as  is  done  in  the 
lilth  and  sixth  Dialogues  ? 

"  If  he  was  our  substitute  as  to  penal 
sufferings,  why  not  as  to  justifying  obedi- 
ence ?" 

The  former  is  expressly  asserted  in  Scrip- 
ture ; — the  latter  is  not  expressly  asserted 
there- 

"  As  sin  and  misery  have  abounded 
through  the  fh'st  Adam,  mercy  and  grace 
have  much  more  abounded  through  the  se- 
cond. So  that  none  can  have  any  reason  to 
complain."  No,  not  if  the  second  Adam 
(liv'd  for  all ;  otherwise  all  for  whom  be  did 
)!ut  die,  have  great  reason  to  complain.  For 
they  inevitably  fall  by  the  first  Adam,  with- 
out any  help  from  the  second. 

"  The  whole  world  of  believers"  is  an  ex- 
pression which  never  occiu's  in  Scripture, 
nor  has  it  any  countenance  there  :  The 
world  in  the  inspired  writings  being  con- 
stantly taken  either  in  an  universal  or  in  a 
bad  sense;  either  for  the  whole  of  mankind, 
or  for  that  part  of  them  who  know  not 
God. 

"  In  the  Lord  shall  all  the  house  of  Israel 
bo  justified."  It  ought  unquestionably  to 
be  rendered,  hy  or  through  the  Lord :  This 
argument  therefore  proves  nothing. — "  Ye 
are  complete  in  him."  The  words  literally 
rendered,  are,  Ye  are  filled  with  him.  Ajid 
the  whole  passage,  as  any  unprejudiced  rea- 
der may  observe,  relates  to  sanctification, 
not  justification. 

"  They  are  accepted  for  Christ's  sake  ; 
this  is  justification  tlirough  imputed  right- 
eousness." That  remains  to  be  proved. 
Jlany  allow  the  former,  who  cannot  allow 
the  latter. 

"  Titer.  I  see  no  occasio7i  for  such  nice 
distin('tions_and  metaphysical  subtleties." 

"As/).  You  oblige  us  to  make  irse  of  them 
by  confounding  those  very  di/Tercnt  ideas, 
that  is,  Christ's  active  and  passive  righte- 
ousness." 

I  answer,  we  do  not  confound  these  ;  but 
neither  do  we  separate  them  ;  nor  have  vve 
any  authority  from  Scripture,  for  either 
thinking  or  speaking  of  one  separate  from 
the  other ;   and  this  whole  debate    on  one 


of  them  separate  from  the   other,  is  a  mere 
meta])hysical  subtlety. 

"  Tlie  righteousness  which  justifies  us,  is 
already  wrought  out."  A  crude  unscriptur- 
al  expression  !  "  It  was  set  on  foot,  carried 
on,  completed."  O  vain  philosophy  !  The 
plain  truth  is,  Christ  lived  and  tasted  death 
for  every  man  ;  and  through  the  merits  of 
his  life  and  death,  every  believer  is  justi- 
fied. 

"  Whoever  perverts  so  glorious  a  doc- 
trine, shews  he  never  believed."  Not  so  ; 
They  who  timi  back  as  a  dog  to  the  vomit, 
had  once  escaped  the  pollutions  of  the 
rt-orld  ])y  the  knowledge  of  Christ. 

"  The  goodness  of  God  leadeth  to  re- 
pentance." This  is  unquestionably  true 
But  the  nice,  metaphysical  doctrine  of  im- 
puted righteousness,  leads  not  to  repentance, 
but  to  licentiousness. 

"  The  believer  cannot  but  add  to  his 
faith,  works  of  righteousness."  During  his 
first  love,  this  is  often  true.  But  it  is  not 
true  afterwards,  as  vve  know  and  feel  by 
melancholy  experience. 

"  We  no  longer  obey,  in  order  to  lay  the 
foundation  for  our  final  acceptance."  No  ; 
that  foundation  is  already  laid  in  the  merits 
of  Christ.  Yet  we  obey,  in  order  to  our 
final  acceptance  through  his  merits.  And 
in  this  sense,  by  obeying  we  lay  a  good 
foundation,  that  we  may  attain  eternal  life. 

"  We  establish  the  law ;  we  provide  for 
its  honour,  by  the  perfect  obedience  of 
Christ."  Can  you  possibly  think  St.  Paul 
meant  this  ?  That  such  a  thought  ever  en- 
tered into  his  mind?  The  plain  meannig 
is,  we  establish  both  the  true  sense  and  th'j 
elFectual  practice  of  it ;  we  provide  for  its 
being  both  understood  and  practised  in  its 
full  extent. 

"  On  those  who  reject  the  atonement, 
just  severity."  AVas  it  ever  possible  for 
them  not  to  reject  it?  If  not,  how  is  it 
just  to  cast  them  into  a  lake  of  fire,  for 
not  doing  what  it  was  impossible  they 
should  do  ?  Would  it  be  just  (make  it 
your  own  case)  to  cast  you  into  hell,  for 
not  touching  heaven  with  your  hand? 

"  Justification  is  complete  the  first  mo- 
ment we  belie\e,  and  is  incapable  of  aug- 
mentation. " 

Not  so  :  There  may  be  as  many  degrees 
in  the  favour  as  in  the  image  of  God. 

"  St.  Paul  often  mentions  a  righteous- 
ness imputed  :  [Not  a  righteousness — 
never  once  ;  but  simply  righteousness.] 
What  can  this  be,  but  the  righteousness  of 
Christ  ?"  He  tells  you  himself.  Rom.  iv. 
5,  '  To  him  that  bclieveth  on  him  that  jus- 
tifieth  the  ungodly,  faith  is  imjjuted  for 
righteousness.'  "  Why  is  Christ  styled  Je 
hovah  our  I'ighteousiiess  ?"  Because  we 
arc  both  justifiudand  sanctified  tiu-ough  him. 


474 


MR.  WESLEY  S  LETTER. 


"  My  death,  the  cause  of  their  forgive- 
ness, my  righteousness,  the  ground  of  their 
acceptance. " 

How  does  this  agree  with  "  To  ascribe 
pardon  to  Christ's  passive,  eternal  life  to 
his  active  righteousness,  is  fanciful  rather 
than  judicious." 

"  He  commends  such  kinds  of  benefi- 
cence only  as  were  exercised  to  a  disciple 
as  such."  Is  not  this  a  slip  of  the  pen? 
Will  not  our  Lord  then  commend,  and  re- 
ward eternally,  all  kinds  of  beneficence, 
provided  they  flowed  from  a  principle  of 
loving  faith  ?  Yea,  that  which  was  exer- 
cised to  a  Samaritan,  a  Jew,  a  Turk  or  a 
Heathen  ?  Even  these  I  would  not  term 
"  transient  bubbles,"  though  they  do  not 
procure  our  justification. 

"  How  must  our  righteousness  exceed 
that  of  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  !  Not 
only  in  being  sincere,  but  in  possessing  a 
complete  righteousness,  even  that  of  Christ !" 
Did  our  Lord  mean  this  ?  Nothing  less. 
He  specifies,  in  the  following  parts  of  his 
sermon,  the  very  instances  wherein  the 
righteousness  of  a  Christian  exceeds  that  of 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees. 

"He  brings  this  specious  hypocrite  to 
the  test."  How  does  it  appear  that  he  was 
an  hypocrite  ?  Our  Lord  gives  not  the 
least  intimation  of  it.  Surely  he  loved  him, 
not  for  his  hypocrisy,  but  his  sincerity. 

Yet  he  loved  the  world,  and  therefore 
could  not  keep  any  of  the  commandments 
in  their  spiritual  meaning.  And  the  keep- 
ing of  these  is  undoubtedly  the  way  to, 
though  not  the  cause  of  etenial  life. 

"  By  works  his  faith  was  made  perfect 
. — appeared  to  be  true."  No  :  the  natural 
sense  of  the  word  is,  by  the  grace  superadd- 
ed while  he  wrought  those  works,  his  faith 
was  literally  made  perfect. 

"  He  that  doeth  righteousness  is  righte- 
ous, manifests  the  truth  of  his  conversion." 
Nay  ;  the  plain  meaning  is,  he  alone  is  truly 
righteous,  whose  faith  worketh  by  love. 

"  St-  James  speaks  of  the  justification  of 
our  faith."  Not  unless  you  mean  by  that 
odd  expression,  oiu"  faith  being  made  per- 
fect ;  for  so  the  apostle  explains  his  own 
meaning.  Perhaps  the  word  justified  is  once 
list  d  by  St-  Paul  for  manifested,  but  that 
does  not  prove  it  is  to  be  so  understood 
here. 

"  Whoso  doeth  these  things  shall  never 
fall  into  total  apostacy."  How  pleasing  is 
this  to  flesh  and  blood  !  But  David  says  no 
such  thing.  His  meaning  is,  whoso  doeth 
these  things  to  the  end  shall  never  fall  into 
hell. 

The  seventh  Dialogue  is  full  of  impor- 
tant truths.  Yet  some  expressions  in  it  I 
c;iiniot  commend. 

"  One  thing  thou  lackest,  the  imputed 
jighlcousncss    of    Christ."       You   cannot 


think  this  is  the  meaning  of  the  text.  Cer- 
tainly the  one  thing  our  Lord  meant,  was 
the  love  of  God,  This  was  the  thing  he 
lacked. 

"  Is  the  obedience  of  Christ  insufficient 
to  accomplish  our  justification  ?"  Rather 
1  would  ask,  is  the  death  of  Christ  insuffi- 
cient to  purchase  it  ? 

"  The  saints  in  glory  ascribe  the  whole 
of  their  salvation  to  the  blood  of  the  Lamb." 
So  do  I ;  and  yet  I  believe  he  obtained  for 
all  a  possibility  of  salvation. 

"  The  terms  of  acceptance  for  fallen 
men  were  a  full  satisfaction  to  the  divine 
justice,  and  a  complete  conformity  to  the 
divine  law."  This  you  take  for  granted,^ 
but  I  cannot  allow. 

The  terms  of  acceptance  for  fallen  men 
are  repentance  and  faith  :  '  Repent  ye  and 
believe  the  gospel.' 

"  There  are  but  two  methods  whereby 
any  can  be  justified,  either  by  a  perfect  obe- 
dience to  the  law,  or  because  Christ  hath 
kept  tlie  law  in  our  stead."  You  should 
say,  '  or  by  faith  in  Christ.'  I  then  an- 
swer, this  is  true.  And  fallen  man  is  jus- 
tified, not  by  perfect  obedience,  but  by  faith. 
What  Christ  has  done  is  the  foundation  of  our 
justification,  not  the  term  or  condition  of  it. 

In  the  eighth  Dialogue,  likewise,  there  are 
many  great  truths,  and  yet  some  things  lia- 
ble to  exception. 

"  David,  God  himself  dignifies  with  the 
most  exalted  of  all  characters. "  Far,  very 
far  from  it.  We  have  more  exalted  charac- 
ters than  David's,  both  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment and  the  New.  Such  are  those  of  Sa- 
muel, Daniel,  yea  and  Job,  in  the  former  ; 
of  St.  Paul  and  St.  John  in  the  latter. 

"  But  God  styles  him  a  man  after  his  o\\ti 
heart."  This  is  the  text  which  has  caused 
many  to  mistake  :  For  want  of  considering, 
first,  That  this  is  said  of  David  in  a  parti- 
cular respect,  not  with  regard  to  his  whole 
character;  secondly,  The  time  at  which  it 
was  spoken.  When  Mas  David  a  man  af- 
ter God's  own  heart  ?  When  God  found  him 
following  the  ewes  great  with  young,  when 
he  took  him  from  the  sheep-folds,  Psalm 
Ixxviii.  71.  It  was  in  the  second  or  third 
year  of  Saul's  reign  that  Samuel  said  to 
him,  The  Lord  hath  souglit  him  a  man  af- 
ter his  own  heart,  and  hath  commanded  him 
to  be  captain  over  his  people,  1  Sam.  xiii. 
14.  But  was  he  a  man  after  God's  own 
heart  all  his  life ?  or  in  all  particulars?  So 
far  from  it,  that  we  ha^•e  few  more  excep- 
tionable characters  among  all  the  men  of 
God  recorded  in  Scripture. 

"  There  is  not  a  just  man  upon  earth  that 
sinneth  not."  Solomon  might  truly  say  so, 
before  Christ  came.  And  St.  John  might, 
after  he  came,  say  as  truly,  '  ^^'hosoever  is 
bom  of  God  sinneth  not.'  But  '  in  many 
tilings  we  offend   all  !'     That   St.   James 


MR. 

does  not  speak  this  of  himself,  or  of  real 
Christians,  will  clearly  appear  to  all  who 
im])artiaUy  consider  the  context. 

The  ninth  Dialogue  proves  excellently 
well,  that  we  cannot  be  justified  by  our 
works. 

But  have  you  thoroughly  considered  these 
words,  "  O  children  of  Adam  !  you  are  no 
longer  obliged  to  love  God  with  all  your 
strength,  nor  your  neighbour  as  yourselves. 
Once  indeed  I  insisted  upon  absolute  purity 
of  heart  ;  now  I  can  dispense  with  some  de- 
grees of  evil  desire.  Since  Christ  has  fulfil- 
led the  law  for  you,  you  need  not  fulfil  it. 
I  will  connive  at,  yea,  accommodate  my 
demands  to  your  weakness." 

I  agree  with  you,  that  this  doctrine  makes 
the  holy  one  of  God  a  minister  of  sin. 
And  is  it  not  your  own  ?  Is  not  this  the 
very  doctrine  which  you  espouse  throughout 
your  book  ? 

I  cannot  but  except  to  several  passages 
also  in  the  tenth  Dialogue.      I  ask  first, 

Does  the  righteousness  of  God  ever 
mean,  (as  you  afSrm)  the  merits  of  Christ  ? 
I  believe  not  once  in  all  the  Scripture.  It 
often  means,  and  particularly  in  the  epistle 
to  the  Romans,  God's  method  of  justifying 
sinners.  When  therefore  you  say,  "  the 
righteousness  of  God  means,  such  a  righte- 
ousness as  may  justly  challenge  his  accep- 
tance," I  cannot  allow  it  at  all  ;  and  this 
capital  mistake  must  needs  lead  you  into 
many  others.  But  I  follow  you  step  by 
step. 

"  In  order  to  entitle  us  to  a  reward,  there 
must  be  an  imputation  of  nghteousness. 
There  must  be  an  interest  in  Christ.      And 
then  every  man   shall   receive  his  own  re- 
ward according  to  his  own  labour. 

"  A  rebel  may  be  forgiven,  without  be- 
ing restored  to  the  dignity  of  a  son."  A 
rebel  against  an  earthly  king  may  ;  but  not 
a  rebel  against  God.  In  the  very  same  mo- 
ment that  God  forgives,  we  are  the  sons  of 
God.  Therefore  this  is  an  idle  dispute  : 
For  j)ardon  and  acceptance,  though  they  may 
be  distinguished,  camiot  be  divided.  The 
words  of  .Job  which  you  cite  are  wide  of 
the  question.  Those  of  Solomon  prove  no 
more  than  this,  (and  who  denies  it?)  That 
justification  implies  both  pardon  and  accep- 
tance. 

"  Grace  reigneth  through  righteousness 
unto  eternal  life  ;"  that  is,  the  free  love  of 
God  brings  us,  through  justification  and 
sanctitication  to  glory — "  That  they  may  re- 
ceive forgiveness,  and  a  lot  among  the  .sanc- 
tified ;"  that  is,  that  they  may  receive  par- 
don, holiness,  heaven. 

"  Is  not  the  satisfaction  made  by  the 
death  of  Christ,  sufficient  to  obtain  both 
our  full  pardon  and  final  ha])pincss?"  Un- 
questionably it  is,  and  neither  of  the  texts 
you  cite  proves  the  contrary. 


WESLEY'S  LETTER.  475 

"  If  it  was  requisite  for  Christ  to  be 
baptized,  much  more  to  fulfil  the  moral 
law." 

I  cannot  prove  that  either  the  one  or  the 
other  was  requisite  in  order  to  his  purchas- 
ing redemption  for  us. 

"  By  Christ's  sufferings  alone,  the  law 
was  not  satisfied."  Yes  it  was,  for  it  re- 
quired only  the  alternative,  obey  or  die- 
It  required  no  man  to  obey  and  die  loo. 
If  any  man  had  perfectly  obeyed,  he  would 
not  liave  died — "  Where  Scripture  a.sciibes 
the  whole  of  our  salvation  to  the  death  of 
Christ,  a  part  of  his  humiliation  is  put  for 
the  whole."  I  caimot  allow  this  without 
some  proof.  '  He  was  obedient  unto  death,' 
is  no  proof  at  all,  as  it  does  not  necessarily 
imi)Iy  any  more,  than  that  he  died  in  obe- 
dience  to  the  Father.  In  some  texts  there 
is  a  necessity  of  taking  a  part  for  the  whole, 
but  in  these  there  is  no  such  necessity. 

"  Christ  undertook  to  do  every  thing  ne- 
cessary  for  our  redemption,  namely,  in  a 
covenant  made  with  the  father."  It  is  sure 
he  did  every  tiling  necessary  ;  but  how  does 
it  appear,  that  he  undertook  this  before  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  and  that  by  a  po- 
sitive covenant  between  him  and  the  Fa- 
ther ? 

You  think  this  ajipears  from  four  texts, 
First,  From  that,  '  thou  gavest  them  to  me-' 
Nay,  when  any  believe,  the  Father  gave 
them  to  Christ ;  but  this  proves  no  such 
previous  contract.  Second,  '  God  hath  laid 
upon  him  the  iniquities  of  us  all'  Neither 
does  this  prove  any  such  thing.  Third, 
That  expression,  '  tlie  counsel  of  peace  shall 
be  between  them,'  does  not  necessarily  im- 
ply any  more,  than  that  both  the  Father 
and  the  Son  would  concur  in  the  redemp- 
tion of  man.  Fourth,  '  According  to  the 
counsel  of  his  svill,'  that  is,  in  the  way  or 
method  he  had  chosen.  Therefore  neither 
any  of  these  texts,  nor  all  of  them,  prove 
what  they  were  brought  to  prove.  They  do 
by  no  means  prove,  that  there  ever  was  any 
such  covenant  made  between  the  Father 
and  the  Son. 

"  The  conditions  of  the  covenant  are  re- 
corded :  Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy  will."  Nay, 
here  is  no  mention  of  any  covenant,  nor 
any  thing  from  which  it  can  be  inferred  — 
"  The  recompense  stipulated  in  this  glori- 
ous treaty."  But  I  see  not  one  word  of 
the  treaty  itself.  Nor  can  I  possibly  allow 
the  existence  of  it  without  far  other  proof 
than  this — "  Another  copy  of  this  grand 
treaty  is  recorded  Lsaiah  xlix-  from  the  first 
to  the  sixth  verse."  I  have  read  them,  but 
cannot  find  a  word  about  it  in  all  these  ver- 
ses. They  contain  neither  more  nor  less 
than  a  prediction  of  the  salvation  of  the 
Gentiles. 

"  By  the  covenant  of  works,  man  was 
bound  to  obey  in  his  own  person."     And 


476 


MR.  WESLEY'S  LETTER. 


so  he  is  under  the  covenant  of  grace,  though 
not  in  order  to  his  justification. — ''  The 
obedience  of  our  Surety  is  accepted  instead 
of  our  own."  This  is  neither  a  safe  nor  a 
scriptural  way  of  speaking.  I  would  sim- 
ply say,  '  We  are  accepted  through  the  be- 
loved.. We  have  redemption  through  his 
blood.' 

"  The  second  covenant  was  not  made 
with  Adam  or  any  of  his  posterity,  but  with 
Christ,  in  those  words,  The  seed  of  the 
woman  shall  bruise  the  serpent's  head." 
For  any  authority  you  have  from  these 
words,  you  might  as  well  have  said.  It  was 
made  with  the  Holy  Ghost  These  words 
were  not  spoken  to  Christ,  but  of  him,  and 
give  not  the  least  intimation  of  any  such 
covenant  as  you  plead  for.  They  manifest- 
ly contain,  if  not  a  covenant  made  with,  a 
promise  made  to  Adam  and  all  his  posteri- 
" Christ,  we  see,  imdertook  to  execute 
the  conditions."  We  see  no  such  thing  in 
this  text.  ',  We  see  here  only  a  promise  of 
a  Saviour,  made  by  God  to  man. 

"  It  is  true,  I  cannot  fulfil  the  conditions." 
It  is  not  true :  The  conditions  of  the  new 
covenant  are,  repent  and  believe ;  and  these 
you  can  fulfil,  through  Christ  strenthening 
you. — "  It  is  equally  true,  this  is  not  requir- 
ed at  my  hands."  It  is  equally  true,  that 
is,  absolutely  false,  and  most  dangerously 
false.  If  we  allow  this,  Antinomianism 
comes  in-  with  a  full  tide. — "  Christ  has 
performed  all  that  was  conditionaryfor  me." 
Has  he  repented  and  believed  for  you  ?  You 
endeavour  to  evade  this  by  saying,  "  He  per- 
formed all  that  was  conditioiiary  in  the  cov- 
enant of  works."  This  is  nothing  to  the 
purpose  ;  for  we  are  not  talking  of  that, 
but  of  the  covenant  of  grace.  Now  he  did 
not  perform  all  that  was  conditional^  in 
this  covenant,  unless  he  repented  and  be- 
lieved. "  But  he  did  unspeakably  more." 
It  may  be  so-     But  he  did  not  do  this. 

"  But  if  Christ's  perfect  obedience  be 
ours,  we  have  no  more  need  of  pardon  than 
Christ  himself."  The  consequence  is  good. 
You  have  started  an  objection  which  you 
cannot  answer.  You  say  indeed,  "  Yes, 
we  do  need  pardon ;  for  in  many  things  we 
offend  all."  What  then  ?  If  his  obedience 
be  ours,  we  still  perfectly  obey  in  him. 

"  Both  the  branches  of  the  law,  the  pre- 
ceptive and  the  penal,  in  the  case  of  guilt 
contracted,  must  be  satisfied."  Not  so ; 
'  Christ  by  his  death  alone  (so  our  Church 
teaches)  fully  satisfied  for  the  sins  of  the  whole 
world.'  The  same  great  truth  is  manifestly 
taught  in  the  31st  ai'ticle.  Is  it  therefore 
fair,  is  it  honest,  for  any  one  to  plead  the 
articles  of  our  Church  in  defence  of  absolute 
I)redestinatioii  ?  Seeing  the  17th  article 
barely  defines  the  terms,  without  either  af- 
firming or  denying  the  thing  ;  whereas  the 


31st  totally  overthrows  and  razes  it  from 
the  foundation. 

"  Believers  who  are  notorious  trans- 
gressors in  themselves,  have  a  sinless  obe- 
dience in  Christ."  O  siren  song  !  pleasing 
sound,  to  James  Wheately  !  Thomas  Wil- 
liams !  James  Reiley ! 

I  know  not  one  sentence  in  the  eleventh 
Dialogue  which  is  liable  to  exception  :  But 
that  grand  doctrine  of  Christianity,  original 
sin,  is  therein  proved  by  irrefragable  argu- 
ments. 

The  twelfth  likewse  is  unexceptionable, 
and  contains  such  an  illustration  of  the  wis- 
dom of  God,  in  the  structure  of  the  human 
body,  as,  I  believe,  cannot  be  paralleled  in 
either  ancient  or  modern  writers. 

The  former  part  of  the  thirteenth  Dia- 
logue is  admirable.  To  the  latter  I  have 
some  objection. 

"  Elijah  failed  in  his  resignation,  and 
even  Moses  spake  unadvisedly  with  his 
lips."  It  is  true  :  But  if  you  could  like- 
wise fix  some  blot  upon  venerable  Samuel 
~and  beloved  Daniel,  it  would  prove  nothing. 
For  no  Scripture  teaches,  that  the  holiness 
of  Christians  is  to  be  measured  by  that  of 
any  Jew. 

"  Do  not  the  best  of  men  frequently  feel 
disorder  in  their  affections?  do  not  they 
often  complain,  when  I  would  do  good,  evil 
is  present  with  me  ?"  I  believe  not.  You 
and  I  are  only  able  to  answer  for  ourselves. 
— "  Do  not  they  say,  We  groan,  being  bur- 
dened with  the  workings  of  inbred  corrup- 
tion ?"  You  know  this  is  not  the  meaning 
of  the  text.  The  whole  context  shows, 
the  cause  of  that  groaning  was  their  longing 
to  be  with  Christ. 

•'  The  cure"  of  sin  "  will  be  perfected  in 
heaven."  Nay,  surely,  in  paradise,  if  no 
sooner. — "  This  is  a  noble  prerogative  of 
the  beatific  vision."  No :  It  would  then 
come  too  late  ;  if  sin  remains  in  us  till  the 
day  of  judgment,  it  will  remain  for  ever. — 
"  Our  present  blessedness  does  not  consist 
in  being  free  from  sin."  I  really  think  it 
does.  But  whether  it  does  or  no,  if  we 
are  not  free  from  sin,  we  are  not  Christian 
believers.  For  to  aU  these  the  apostle  de- 
clares, '  being  made  free  from  sin,  ye  are 
become  the  servants  of  righteousness.' 
Rom.  vi.  18. 

"  If  we  were  perfect  in  piety  [St.  John's 
words  are,  perfect  in  love']  Christ's  priestly 
office  would  be  superseded."  No;  we 
should  still  need  his  Spirit  (and  consequent- 
ly his  intercession)  for  the  continuance  of 
that  love  from  moment  to  moment-  Be- 
sides, we  should  still  be  encompassed  with 
infirmities,  and  liable  to  mistakes,  from 
which  words  or  actions  might  follow,  even 
though  the  heart  was  all  love,  which  were 
not  exactly  right.  Therefore  in  all  these 
respects,  wc  should  still  have  need  of  Christ's 


MR.  WESLEY'S  LETTER- 


47/ 


priestly  office  ;  and^iherefore,  as  long  as  he 

remains  in  the  body,  the  greatest  saint  may 

say, 

Every  moment.  Lord,  I  need 
Themerit  of  thy  death. 

The  text  cited  from  Exodus  asserts  no- 
thing less  than  that  iniquity  cleaves  to  all 
our  holy  things  till  death. 

"  Sin  remains,  that  the  righteousness  of 
faith  may  have  its  due  honour."  And  will 
the  righteousness  of  faith  have  its  due  hon- 
our no  longer  than  sin  remains  in  us  ?  Then 
it  must  remain,  not  only  on  earth  and  in 
paradise,  but  in  heaven  also. — "  And  the 
sanctification  of  the  spirit  its  proper  es- 
teem." Would  it  not  have  more  esteem  if 
it  were  a  perfect  work  ? 

"  It  [sin]- will  make  us  lowly  in  our  own 
eyes."  What!  will  pride  make  us  lowly? 
Surely  the  utter  destruction  of  Pride  would 
do  this  more  effectually. — "  It  will  make  us 
compassionate."  Would  not  an  entire  re- 
new.il  in  the  image  of  God  make  us  much 
more  so  ? — "  It  will  teach  us  to  admire  the 
riches  of  grace."  Yea,  but  a  fuller  experi- 
ence of  it,  by  a  thorough  sanctification  of 
spirit,  soul,  and  body,  will  make  us  admire 
it  more. — "  It  will  reconcile  us  to  death." 
Indeed  it  will  not :  Nor  will  any  thing  do 
this,  like  perfect  love. 

"  It  will  endear  the  blood  and  intercession 
of  Christ."  Nay,  these  can  never  be  so  dear 
to  any,  as  to  those  who  experience  their  full 
\irtue,  who  are  filled  with  the  fulness  of 
Ciod.  Nor  can  any  feel  their  continual  need 
of  Christ,  or  rely  on  him  in  the  manner 
which  these  do. 

Dialogue  14.  "  The  claims  of  the  Jaw 
arc  all  answered."  If  so,  (Jount  Zinzcn- 
dorf  is  absolutely  in  the  right :  Neither  God 
nor  man  can  claim  my  obedience  to  it.  Is 
not  this  Antinomianism  without  a  mask  ? 

"  Your  sins  are  expiated  through  the 
death  of  Christ,  and  a  righteousness  given 
you,  by  wliich  you  have  free  access  to  God." 
This  is  not  scriptural  language.  I  would 
simply  say,  '  By  him  we  have  access  to  the 
father.' 

There  are  many  other  expressions  in  this 
Dialogue,  to  which  I  have  the  same  objec- 
tion, namely,  firat.  That  they  are  unscrip- 
tural ;  second,  That  they  directly  lead  to 
Antinomianism. 

The  first  Letter  contains  some  very  use- 
ful heads  of  self-examination.  In  the 
second, 

I  read,  "  There  is  a  righteousness  which 
supplies  all  that  the  creature  needs.  To 
l)rove  this  momentous  point,  is  the  design 
of  the  following  sheets." 

I  have  seen  such  terrible  effects  of  this 
iniscriptural  way  of  sjieaking,  even  on  those 
'  who  had  once  clean  escaped  from  the  pol- 
lutions of  the  world,'  that  I  cannot  but  ear- 
nestly wish  you  would  speak  no  otherwise 


than  do  the  oracles  of  God.  Certainly  this 
mode  of  expression  is  not  momentous  :  It 
is  always  dangerous,  often  fatal. 

Letter  3.  "  Where  sin  abounded,  grace  did 
much  more  abound  :  that  as  sin  had  reigned 
imto  death,  so  might  gi-ace  [the  free  love  of 
God]  reign  through  righteousness  [through 
our  justificadon  and  sanctification]  unto 
eternal  life."  Rom.  v.  20,  21.  This  is  the 
plain  natiu-al  meaning  of  the  words.  It 
does  not  appear,  that  one  word  is  spoken 
here  about  imputed  righteousness  :  Neither 
in  the  passages  cited,  in  the  next  page,  from 
the  Common-prayer  and  the  Article.  In 
the  Homily  likewise,  that  phi-ase  is  not 
found  at  all ;  and  the  main  stress  is  laid  on 
Christ's  shedding  his  blood.  Nor  is  the 
phrase  (concerning  the  thing  there  is  no 
question)  found  in  any  part  of  the  Homilies. 

"  If  the  fathers  are  not  explicit  Avith  re- 
gard to  the  imputation  of  active  righteous- 
ness, they  abound  in  passages  which  evince 
the  substitution  of  Christ  in  our  stead  : 
passages  which  disclaim  all  dependence  on 
any  duties  of  our  own,  and  fix  our  hopes 
wholly  on  the  merits  of  our  Saviom-.  Wlien 
this  is  the  case,  I  am  very  little  solicitous 
about  any  particular  forms  of  expression." 
O  lay  aside,  then,  these  questionable,  dan- 
gerous forms,  and  keep  closely  to  the  scrip- 
tural. 

Letter  4.  "  The  authority  of  our  church, 
and  of  those  eminent  divines,  does  not  touch 
those  particular  forms  of  expression. "  Nei- 
ther do  any  of  the  texts  which  you  afterwards 
cite.     As  to  the  doctrine  we  are  agreed. 

"  The  righteousness  of  God  signifies,  the 
righteousness  which  God-man  wrought 
out."  No :  It  signifies  God's  method  of 
justifying  sinners. 

"  The  victims  figured  the'  expiation  by 
Christ's  death ;  the  clothing  with  skins,  the 
imputation  of  his  righteousness.''  That 
does  not  appear.  Did  not  the  one  rather 
figiu-e  our  justification,  the  other  oursancti- 
iication  ? 

Almost  every  text  quoted  in  this  and  the 
following  Letter,- in  support  of  that  particu- 
lar form  of  expression,  is  (hstorted  above 
measure  from  the  plain  obvious  meaning 
which  is  pointed  out  by  the  context.  I  shall 
instance  in  a  few,  and  just  set  down  their 
true  meaning,  without  any  farther  remarks. 

'  To  shew  unto  man  his  uprightness,'— 
to  convince  him  of  God's  justice,  in  so 
punishing  him. 

'  He  sJiall  receive  the  blessing' — pardon, 
'from  the  Lord;  and  righteousness,' — holi- 
ness,—  'from  the  God  of  his  salvation,' — the 
God  who  saveth  him  both  from  the  guilt  and 
from  the  power  of  sin. 

'  I  will  make  mention  of  thy  righteous- 
ness  only,' — of  thy  mercy.  So  the  word 
frequently  means  in  the  Old  Testament ; 
so  it  unquestionably  means  in  that  test,  '  In 


478 


MR.  WESLEY'S  LETTER. 


^or  by)  thy  righteousness  shall  they  be  ex- 
alted.' 

*  Sion  shall  be  redeemed  with  judgment,' 
—after  severe  punishment ;  '  and  her  con- 
verts with  righteousness,' — with  the  tender 
mercy  of  God  following  that  punishment. 

'  In  (or  through)  the  Lord  I  have  right- 
eousness and  strength,' — ^justification  and 
sanctification.  '  He  hath  clothed  me  with 
the  garments  of  salvation,' — saved  me  I'rom 
the  guilt  and  power  of  sin  :  Both  of  which 
are  again  expressed  by,  '  He  hath  covered 
me  with  the  robe  of  righteousness.' 

*  My  righteousness  (my  mercy)  shall  not 
be  abolished.' 

'  To  make  reconciliation  for  iniquity' — 
to  atone  for  all  our  sins — '  and  to  bring  in 
everlasting  righteousness,' — spotless  holi- 
ness in  our  souls.  And  this  righteousness 
is  not  human  but  divine.  It  is  the  gift  and 
the  work  of  God. 

•  The  Lord  our  righteousness' — the  author 
both  of  our  justification   and  sanctification. 

"  What  righteousness  shall  give  us  peace 
at  the  last  day,  inherent  or  imputed?"  Both 
Christ  died  for  us  and  lives  in  us,  '  that  we 
may  have  boldness  in  the  day  of  judgment.' 

Letter  5.  '  That  have  obtained  like  pre- 
cious faith  through  the  righteousness' — the 
mercy,  of  our  Lord.  '  Seek  ye  the  king- 
dom of  God  and  his  righteousness  ;' — the 
holiness  which  springs  from  God  reigning 
in  you. 

'  Therein  is  revealed  the  righteousness  of 
God' — God's  method  of  justifying  sinners. 

"  We  establish  the  law,  as  we  expect  no 
salvation  without  a  perfect  conformity  to  it 
• — namely,  by  Christ.''  Is  not  this  a  mere 
quibble  ?  and  a  quibble  which,  after  all  the  la- 
boured evasions  of  Witsius,  and  a  thousand 
more,  does  totally  make  void  the  law  ?  But 
not  so  does  St.  Paul  teach.  According  to 
him,  without  holiness,  personal  holiness,  no 
man  shall  see  the  Lord.  JNo  one  who  is  not 
himself  conformed  to  the  law  of  God  here, 
shall  see  the  Lord  in  glory. 

This  is  the  grand,  palpable  objection  to 
that  wliole  scheme.  It  directly  makes  void 
the  law.  It  makes  thousands  content  to 
live  and  die  transgressors  of  the  law,  be- 
cause Christ  fulfilled  it  for  them.  There- 
fore, though  I  believe  he  hath  lived  and  died 
for  me,  yet  I  would  speak  very  tenderly  and 
sparingly  of  the  former,  (and  never  separ- 
ately from  the  latter)  even  as  sparingly  as 
do  the  Scriptures,  for  fear  of  this  dreadful 
consequence. 

"  The  gift  of  righteousness  must  signify  a 
righteousness  not  their  o\mi."  Yes,  it  sig- 
nifies the  righteousness  or  holiness  which 
God  gives  to,  and  works  in  them. 

"  The  obedience  of  one,  is  Christ's  ac- 
tual performance  of  the  whole  law."  So 
here  his  passion  is  fairly  left  out !  whereas, 


his  becoming  obedient  unto  death,  that  is, 
dying  for  man,  is  certainly  the  chief  part,  if 
not  the  whole,  which  is  meant  by  that  ex- 
pression. 

"  That  the  righteousness  of  the  law  might 
be  fulfilled  in  us — that  is,  by  our  represen- 
tative in  our  nature."  Amazing  !  but  this, 
you  say,  "  agrees  with  the  tenor  of  the 
apostle's  arguing ;  for  he  is  demonstrating 
we  cannot  be  justified  by  our  own  conform- 
ity to  the  law."  No  ;  not  here.  He  is  not 
speaking  here  of  the  cause  of  our  justifica- 
tion, but  the  fruits  of  it.  Therefore  that 
unnatiu'al  sense  of  his  words  does  not  at  all 
agree  with  the  tenor  of  his  arguing. 

I  totally  deny  the  criticism  on  Itxawffwn 
and  liKcciMfia,  and  cannot  conceive  on  what 
authority  it  is  founded.  O  how  deep  an 
aversion  to  inward  holiness  does  this  scheme 
naturally  create  ! 

"  The  righteousness  they  attained  could 
not  be  any  personal  righteousness."  Cer- 
tainly it  was.  It  was  implanted  as  well  as 
imputed. 

"  For  instruction  in  righteousness,  in  the 
righteousness  of  Christ."  Was  there  ever 
such  a  comment  before  ?  The  plain  meaning 
is,  for  training  up  in  holiness  of  heart  and 
of  life. 

'  He  shall  convince  the  world  of  righteous- 
ness ;' — that  I  am  not  a  sinner,  but  inno- 
cent and  holy. 

"  That  we  might  be  made  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  in  him.  Not  intrinsically,  but 
imputatively."  Both  the  one  and  the  other 
God,  through  him,  first  aceounts  and  then 
makes  us  righteous.  Accordingly,  the  right- 
eousness which  is  of  God  by  faith,  is  both 
imputed  and  inherent. 

"  My  faith  fixes  on  both  the  meritorious 
life  and  atoning  death  of  Christ."  Here 
we  clearly  agree.  Hold  then  to  this,  and 
never  talk  of  the  former  without  the  latter. 
If  you  do,  you  cannot  say,  "  Here  we  are 
exposed  to  no  hazard."  Yes,  you  are  to  an 
exceeding  great  one :  even  the  hazard  of 
living  and  dying  without  holiness.  And 
then  we  are  lost  for  ever. 

The  sixth  Letter  contains  an  admirable 
account  of  the  earth  and  its  atmosphere, 
and  comprises  abundance  of  sense  in  a  nar- 
row compass,  and  expressed  in  beautiful 
language. 

Gems  have  "  a  seat  on  the  virtuous 
fair  one's  breast."  I  cannot  reconcile  this 
with  St.  Paul.  He  says,  "  Not  imtltpearls  ." 
by  a  parity  of  reason,  not  with  diamonds. 
But  in  all  things  I  perceive  you  are  too  fa- 
vourable, both  to  the  desire  of  the  flesh  and 
the  desire  of  the  eye.  You  are  a  gentle 
casuist  as  to  eveiy  self-indulgence  which  a 
plentiful  fortune  can  furnish. 

"  Our  Saviour's  obedience."  O  say,  with 
the  good  old  puritans,   'our  Saviour's  death 


MR.   WESLEY'S  LETTER. 


479 


or  merits.'  We  swarm  with  Antinomians 
on  every  side.  Why  are  you  at  such  pains 
to  increase  their  number? 

'  My  mouth  shall  show  forth  thy  righteous- 
ness and  thy  salvation  ;' — thy  mercy  which 
brings  my  salvation. 

The  eighth  Letter  is  an  excellent  descrip- 
tion cf  the  supreme  greatness  of  Christ.  I 
do  not  observe  one  sentence  in  it  which  I 
cannot  cheerfully  subscribe  to. 

The  ninth  Letter,  containing  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  sea,  with  various  inferences  de- 
duced therefrom,  is  likewise  a  master-piece, 
for  justness  of  sentiment  as  well  as  beauty 
of  language.  But  I  doubt  whether  "  mere 
shrimps"  be  not  too  low  an  expression  ;  and 
whether  you  might  not  as  well  have  said  no- 
thing of  "  cod,  the  standing  repast  of  Lent :" 
Or  concerning  "  the  exquisite  relish  of  tur- 
bot,  or  the  deliciousness  of  sturgeon."  Are 
not  such  observations  beneath  the  dignity  of 
a  minister  of  Christ  ?  I  have  the  same 
doubt  concerning  what  is  said  of  "  delicate- 
ly flavoured  tea,  finely-scented  coffee,  the 
friendly  bowl,  the  pyramid  of  Italian  figs, 
and  the  pistacio  nut  of  Aleppo ;"  beside 
that  the  mentioning  these  in  such  a  manner, 
is  a  strong  encouragement  of  luxury  and 
sensuality.  And  does  the  world  need  this  ? 
The  English  in  particular  ? — Si  non  insan- 
iwit  satis  sua  sponte  instiga. 

Letter  10.  "  Those  treasures  which 
spring  from  the  imputation  of  Christ's  right- 
eousness." Not  a  word  of  his  atoning  blood ! 
Why  do  so  many  men  love  to  speak  of  his 
righteousness,  rather  than  his  atonement  ? 
I  fear,  because  it  affords  a  fairer  excuse  for 
their  own  unrighteousness  :  To  cut  off  this, 
is  it  not  better  to  mention  both  together  ? 
At  least,  never  to  name  the  former  without 
the  latter? 

"  Faith  is  a  persuasion  that  Christ  has 
shed  his  blood  for  me,  and  fulfilled  all  right- 
eousness in  my  stead."  I  can  by  no  means 
subscribe  to  this  definition.  There  are  hun- 
dreds, yea  thousands,  of  true  believers,  who 
never  once  thought  one  way  or  the  other  of 
Christ's  fulfilling  all  righteousness  in  their 
stead.  1  personally  know  many,  who  to 
this  very  hour  have  no  idea  of  it ;  and  yet 
have  each  of  them  a  divine  evidence  and 
conviction,  Christ  loved  me  and  gave  him- 
self for  me.  This  is  St.  Paul's  account  of 
faith  :  And  it  is  sufficient.  He  that  thus 
believes  is  justified. 

"  It  is  a  sure  means  of  purifying  the  heart, 
and  never  fails  to  work  by  love."  It  sure- 
ly purifies  the  heart,  if  we  abide  in  it ;  but 
not  if  we  draw  back  to  perdition.  It  never 
fails  to  work  by  love,  while  it  continues  ; 
but  if  itself  fail,  farewell  both  love  and  good 
works. 

'Faith   is  the  hand  which    receives  all 


soever  is  laid  up  in   Christ,  from  that  hour 
we  receive  nothing. 

Letter  11.  "Faith  in  the  imputed  righte- 
ousness of  Christ,  is  a  fundamental  principle 
in  the  Gospel."  If  so,  what  becomes  of  all 
those  who  think  nothing  about  imputed 
righteousness?  How  many  who  are  full  of 
faith  and  love,  if  this  be  true,  must  perish 
everlastingly  ! 

"  Thy  hands  must  urge  the  way  of  the 
deadly  weapon  through  the  shivering  flesh, 
till  it  be  plunged  in  the  throbbing  heart." 
Are  not  these  descriptions  far  too  strong  ? 
May  they  not  occasion  unprofitable  reason- 
ings in  many  readers  ? 
^     Ne  puerum  coram  populo  Medea  trucidet. 

"  How  can  he  justify  it  to  the  world  ?'* 
Not  at  all.  Can  this  then  justify  his  faith 
to  the  world  ? 

"  You  take  the  certain  way  to  obtain 
comfort,  the  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ." 
What !  without  the  atonement  ?  Strange 
fondness  for  an  unscriptural,  dangerous 
mode  of  expression  ! 

"  So  the  merits  of  Christ  are  derived  to 
all  the  faithful."  Rather  the  fruits  of  the 
Spirit ;  which  are  likewise  plainly  typified  by 
the  oil  in  .Zechariah's  vision. 

"  Has  the  law  any  demand  ?  It  must  go 
to  him  for  satisfaction."  Suppose,  '  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself-.'  Then 
I  am  not  ohliged  to  love  my  neighbour. 
Christ  has  satisfied  the  demand  of  the  law 
for  me.  Is  not  this  the  very  quintessence 
of  Antinomianism? 

"  The  righteousness  wrought  out  by  Je- 
sus Christ,  is  wrought  out  for  all  his  peo- 
ple, to  be  the  cause  of  their  justification,  and 
the  purchase  of  their  salvation.  The  right- 
eousness  is  the  cause,  the  purchase."  So 
the  death  of  Christ  is  not  so  much  as  nam- 
ed !  "  For  all  his  people  :"  But  what  be- 
comes of  all  other  people  ?  They  must  in- 
evitably perish  for  ever.  The  die  was  cast 
or  ever  they  were  in  being.  The  doctrine 
to  pass  them  by  has 

Consim'd  their  unborn  souls  to  hell. 

And  damn'd  them  from  their  mother's  womb  ! 

I  could  sooner  be  a  Turk,  a  Deist,  yea,  an 
atheist,  than  I  could  believe  this.  It  is  less 
absurd  to  deny  the  very  being  of  God,  than 
to  make  him  an  almighty  tyrant. 

"  The  whole  world,  and  all  its  seasons, 
are  rich  with  our  Creator's  goodness.  His 
tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works."  Are 
they  over  the  bulk  of  mankind  ?  Where  is 
his  gootbiess  to  the  non-elect  ?  How  are 
his  tender  mercies  over  them  ?  "  His  tem- 
poral blessings  are  given  to  them."  But  are 
they  to  them  blessings  at  all  ?  Are  they  not 
all  curses  ?  Does  noc  God  know  they  are  ? 
that  they  will  oidy  inoreasc  their  damnation? 
Docs  he  not  design  tbcy  should  ?   And  this 


that  is   laid  up  in    Christ."     Consequently  [you   call  goodness/     This   is  tender  inerci/ f 
if  we  make  shipwreck  of  the  faith,  how  much  |     "  May  we  not  discern  pregnant  proofs  of 


480 


MR.  WESLEY'S  LETTER. 


goodness  in  each  individual  object?"  No;  on 
your  sclieme  not  a  spark  of  it  in  this  world, 
or  the  next,  to  the  far  greater  part  of  the 
work  of  his  own  hands  ! 

"  Is  God  a  generous  benefactor  to  the 
meanest  animals,  to  the  lowest  reptiles  ? 
And  will  he  deny  my  friend  what  is  neces- 
s;iry  to  his  present  comfort,  and  his  final 
acceptance  ?"  Yea,  will  he  deny  it  to  any 
soul  that  he  has  made  ?  Would  you  deny 
it  to  any  if  it  were  in  your  power  ? 

But  if  you  lovM  whom  God  abhorr'd, 
Tlie  servant  were  above  his  Lord. 

"  The  wedding  garment  here  means  ho- 
liness." 

"  This  is  his  tender  complaint,  '  they  will 
not  come  unto  me  !' "  Nay,  that  is  not  the 
case ;  they  cannot.  He  himself  has  de- 
creed, not  to  give  them  that  grace,  without 
which  their  coming  is  impossible. 

"  The  grand  end  which  God  proposes  in 
all  his  favourable  dispensations  to  fallen  man, 
is  to  demonstrate  the  sovereignty  of  his 
grace."  Not  so  ;  to  impart  happiness  to  his 
creatures,  is  his  grand  end  herein.  "  Barely 
to  demonstrate  his  sovereignty,"  is  a  princi- 
ple of  actjon  fit  for  the  great  Turk,  not  the 
most  high  God. 

"  God  hath  pleasure  in  the  prosperity  of 
his  servants.  He  is  a  boundless  ocean  of 
good."  Nay,  that  ocean  is  far  from  bound- 
less, if  it  wholly  passes  by  nine-tenths  of 
mankind. 

"  You  cannot  suppose  God  would  enter 
into  a  fresh  covenant  with  a  rebel."  I  both 
suppose  and  know  he  did.  "  God  made  the 
i!ew  covenant  with  Christ,  and  charged  him 
with  the  performance  of  the  conditions."  I 
deny  lioth  these  assertions,  which  are  the 
central  point  wherein  Calvinism  and  Anti- 
nomianism  meet.  '  I  have  made  a  coven- 
ant v>'ith  my  chosen ;'  viz.  with  David  my 
servant.      So  God  himself  explains  it. 

"  He  will  wash  you  in  the  blood  vihich 
atones,  and  invest  you  with  the  righteous- 
ness which  justifies."  Why  should  you 
thus  continually  put  asunder  what  God  ha? 
joined  ? 

"  God  himself  at  the  last  day  pronounces 
them  righteous,  because  they  are  interested 
in  the  obedience  of  the  Redeemer."  Rather 
because  they  are  washed  in  his  blood,  and 
renewed  by  his  Spirit. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  cannot  but  wish  that 
the  plan  of  these  Dialogues  had  been  exe- 
cuted in  a  different  manner.  Most  of  the 
grand  tniths  of  Christianity  are  herein  both 
e.\)ilained  and  proved  with  great  strength 
and  clearness.      Why  was  any  thing  inter- 


mixed which  could  prevent  arijL  seriou? 
Christian  lecommending  them  to  all  man- 
kind? Any  thing  which  must  necessarily 
render  them  exceptionable  to  so  many  thou- 
sands of  the  children  of  God  ?  In  practical 
writings,  I  studiously  abstain  from  the  very 
shadow  of  controversy.  Nay,  even  in  con- 
troversial, I  do  not  knowingly  write  one 
line,  to  which  any  but  my  opponent  would 
object.  For  opinions  shall  I  destroy  the 
work  of  God  ?  Then  am  I  a  bigot  indeed. 
Much  more,  if  I  would  not  drop  any  mode  of 
expression,  rather  than  offend  either  Jew  or 
Gentile,  or  the  church  of  God.  I  am,  with 
great  sincerity,  dear  sir,  your  affectionate 
brother  and  servant,  J.  W. 

October  15,  1756. 


I  liave  but  one  thing  more  to  add,  which 
is,  concerning  the  seasonableness  of  the  fol- 
lowing publication.  It  may  perhaps,  be 
thought  a  needless  revival  of  a  dispute  which 
happened  long  ago,  and  which  is  now  pro- 
bably forgotten.  In  answer  to  which,  I  can 
assure  the  reader,  that  the  above  is  printed 
from  an  edition  of  the  Preservative  now 
on  sale  at  the  Foundry.  The  seasonableness 
of  this  publication  is  therefore  apparent ;  for 
though  my  brother  died  December  25,  1758, 
the  controversy  did  by  no  means  die  with 
him,  but  still  subsists  in  the  daily  publica- 
tion and  sale  of  tiie  Pieservative,  which  al- 
so comes  with  a  special*  recommendation 
from  Mr.  Wesley,  into  the  hands  of  all  his 
preachers,  to  be  by  them  first  "  carefully 
read,  then  to  be  recommended  and  explain- 
ed to  the  several  societies  where  they  la- 
bour." So  that  the  controversy  is,  in  the 
most  effectual  manner,  daily  and  hourly  kept 
alive  by  Mr.  Wesley  himself.  This  proves 
very  sufficiently  the  seasonableness,  and  as 
things  have  happened,  the  expediency,  of  the 
present  appearance  of  the  following  Letters 
in  public.  How  pertinent  an  answer  they , 
contain  to  Mr.  Wesley's  objections,  is  now ; 
to  Us  left  to  the  consideration  of  the  candid  i 
reader. 

W.  HERVEY. 

Miks-Lane,  December  5,  ITGl, 


*  See  the  last  paragraph  of  a  tract,  entitled,  Rea- 
sons against  a  separation  from  the  church  of  Englandi 
priuteU  also  in  the  X'rcservative,  p.  23/. 


LETTERS 


TO  THE 


REV.  MR.  JOHN  WESLEY. 


LETTER  I. 


Reverend  Sir, — I  received  the  letter  you 
mention,  containing  remarks  on  the  Dia- 
logues between  Theron  and  Aspasio.  As, 
after  a  careful  perusal,  I  saw  very  little  rea- 
son to  alter  my  sentiments,  I  laid  aside  your 
epistle  without  returning  an  answer,  in  hopes 
that  my  silence  (which  it  seems  you  mis- 
took for  obstinacy)  would  most  emphatical- 
ly speak  my  advice  ;  which,  had  it  been  ex- 
pressed more  plainly,  would  have  been  de- 
livered in  the  apostle's  words,  That  ye  study 
or  make  it  your  ambition,  to  be  quiet.* 

Since  you  have,  by  printing  these  re- 
marks, summoned  me,  though  reluctant,  to 
the  bar  of  the  public,  it  should  seem  that  I 
ought  not  to  discredit  the  truth  once  deli- 
vered to  the  saints,  by  a  timid  silence  :  and 
I  am  the  more  willing  to  answer  for  myself, 
as  I  have  now  the  privilege  of  an  unpreju- 
diced judge,  and  an  impartial  jury.  If  my 
defence  should  be  lost  on  my  opponent,  it 
may  possibly  make  some  useful  impressions 
on  the  court,  and  candid  audience.  How- 
ever, I  will  not  absolutely  despair  of  con- 
vincing Mr.  Wesley  himself;  because  i4  is 
written,  "  Give  admonition  to  a  wise  man, 
and  he  will  yet  be  wiser.f "  On  some  very 
momentous  and  interesting  points,  I  may 
probably  be  a  little  more  copious  than  the 
Strict  laws  of  argument  demand,  in  order  to 
exhibit  some  of  the  groat  truths  of  the  gos- 
pel in  so  clear  a  light,  that  "  he  may  run 
who  ruadetli  them  ;"  in  so  amiable  and  invit- 
ing a  light,  that  the  believer  may  rejoice  in 
them,  and  the  sinner  ni;iy  long  for  them. 
For  such  digressions  I  promise  myself  an 
easy  pardon,  both  from  yourself  and  the 
reader. 


*  I  Thess.  iv.  11,  <I'(A.»Ti^£/ir9a/,  a  beautiful 
word,  rich  with  meaning,  and  not  .ndcquately  trans- 
lated by  mahi;  it  r/atir  umhition,  still  more  inade- 
quately by  our  rommon  version. 

t  Prov.  ix.  II.  Tlie  original  phrase  :s  only  Give, 
which  may  signify,  give  mhniDiition,  as  well  as  (what 
out  version  ha»  supposed)  instruction. 


Thus  you  open  the  debate  :  "  In  the  se- 
cond Dialogue,  is  not  the  description  often 
too  laboured,  the  language  too  stiff  and  af- 
fected ?"  I  must  confess.  Sir,  this  animad- 
version seems  to  be  as  just,  as  the  praise 
which  you  have  here  and  elsewhere  bestow- 
ed, appears  to  be  lavish ;  the  former,  if  not 
more  pleasing,  may  be  no  less  serdceable 
than  the  latter;  for  both  I  acknowledge  my- 
self your  debtor  ;  and  if  ever  I  attempt  any 
thing  more  in  the  capacity  of  an  author,  I 
will  be  sure  to  keep  my  eye  fixed  on  the 
caution  you  have  given. 

I  am  sorry  that  the  next  words  bring  on 
a  complaint  so  close  to  my  acknowledg- 
ment. "  You  cite  the  pages  according  to 
the  Dublin  edition,  having  wrote  the  rough 
draught  of  what  follows  in  Ireland."  But 
should  you  not,  in  coroplaisanee  to  your 
readers  on  this  side  the  water,  have  refer- 
red to  the  pages  of  the  English  edition? 
For  want  of  such  reference,  there  is  hard- 
ly distinction  enough  in  some  places  to 
know  which  are  your  words,  and  which  are 
Aspasio's.  Should  you  not  also,  in  jus- 
tice to  the  author,  before  you  transcribed 
the  rough  draught  for  the  press,  have 
consulted  the  last  edition  of  his  work  ? 
which,  you  well  knew,  was  not  the  cojiy 
from  which  the  Irish  impression  was  taken, 
yet  might  reasonably  suppose  to  be  the 
least  inaccurate. 

When  I  read  your  next  paragrajih,  T  am 
struck  with  reverence,  I  am  ashamed  and 
almost  astonished  at  the  littleness  of  the 
])reeoding  observations  ;  stirtness  of  stj'le, 
and  a  thousand  such  trilles,  what  are  they 
all,  compared  with  justification  before  the 
infinite  and  inunortal  God?  This  is  a  sub- 
ject that  commands  oiu-  most  awful  regard, 
a  blessing  that  sluudd  engage  our  whole  at- 
tention. As  this  is  the  grand  article  to 
come  under  oiu'  consideration,  I  would  de- 
sire to  maintain  an  incessant  depcndance  on 
2  I 


482 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


the  divine  Spirit,  that  my  thoughts  may  be 
influenced,  and  my  pen  guided,  by  the  wis- 
dom which  Cometh  from  above ;  that  I  may 
neither  pervert  the  truth  by  any  erroneous 
representations,  nor  dishonour  it  by  an  un- 
christian  temper.      It  would  be  easy  to 


pen  to  be  only  diversified  expressions  of  the 
same  idea.  The  inerits  of  Christ  will  cer- 
tainly comport  either  with  Popish  or  Soci- 
nian  notions.  It  abounds  in  writers  of  the 
former  sort,  and  it  is  to  be  found  in  the  lat- 
ter.     Therefore,  to  be  more  explicit — By 


make  use  of  bitter  satire,  and  disdainful  I  pardotiing,  I  mean   God's  acquitting  a  sin' 


irony,  the  contemptuous  sneer,  or  the  in- 
dignant frown.  And  indeed,  Sir,  you  have 
laid  yourself  open  to  every  attack  of  this 
kind  ;  but  these  are  not  the  weapons  of  a 
Christian's  warfare. 

Non  defensoribus  istis. 

We  are  to  give  a  reason  of  the  hope  that 
is  in  us  with  meekness  and  fear  ;  meekness, 
with  regard  to  those  who  interrogate  or  op- 
])()se  us  ;  fear,  with  regard  to  him  whose 
cause  we  plead,  and  whose  eye  is  ever  upon 
us.  "  Is  justification,"  you  say,  "more  or  less 
than  God's  pardoning  and  accepting  a  sin- 
ner, through  the  merits  of  Christ?"  I 
somewhat  wonder.  Sir,  that  you  should  ask 
this  question,  when  it  is  professedly  answer- 
ed  by  Aspasio,  who  has  presented  you  with 
a  very  circumstantial  definition  of  justifica- 
tion, explaining  it,  establishing  it,  and  ob- 
viating several  objections  advanced  against 
it.  If  you  would  animadvert  with  spirit  and 
force,  or  indeed  to  any  considerable  purpose, 
should  you  not  lay  open  the  impropriety  of 
this  definition,  shewing  from  reason  and 
scripture,  that  it  is  neither  accurate  nor  or- 
thodox ? 

The  reader  may  see  Aspasio's  account  of 
justification,  and  find  the  words  imputation 
and  righteousness  of  Christ  particularly  ex- 
plained ;  the  latter  denoting  "  ail  the  vari- 
ous instances  of  his  active  and  passive  obe- 
dience." Accordingly  it  is  afiirmed,  "the 
punishment  we  deserved,  he  endures  ;  the 
obedience  which  we  owed,  he  fulfils." 
What  Aspasio  here  professes  to  under- 
stand by  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  the 
reader  is  particularly  requested  to  bear  in 
his  memory,  that  he  be  not  misled  by  Mr. 
Wesley,  who  often  forgets  it,  and  com- 
plains, when  the  righteousness  of  Christ  is 
mentioned 


ner  from  guilt  of  every  kind,  and  of  every 
degree.  By  accepting,  I  mean  stiU  more, 
God's  receiving  him  into  full  favour,  con- 
sidering and  treating  him  as  righteous,  yea, 
perfectly  and  gloriously  righteous. — By 
the  ineiits  of  Chrint  I  would  always  be 
supposed  to  signify,  his  acti\e  and  passive 
obedience  ;  all  that  he  wrought,  and  all  that 
he  suffered,  for  the  salvation  of  mankind.* 
Interested  in  all  this,  the  believer  enters 
into  the  divine  presence,  and  stands  before 
the  divine  majesty,  not  like  David's  ambas- 
sadors, stealing  themselves  into  Jericho  ; 
safe,  indeed,  but  with  the  marks  of  Ammo- 
nitish  insults  on  their  persons  :  He  rather 
enters  like  that  illustrious  exile,  Joseph,  in- 
to the  presence  of  Pharaoh,  when  his  prison 
garments  were  taken  from  him,  and  he  was 
arrayed  in  vestures  of  fine  linen,  meet  for 
the  shoulders  of  those  who  appear  before 
kings.  With  this  explication,  1  am  content 
that  your  definition  takes  place  of  mine.+  I 
would  further  observe,  that  you  have  dropt 
the  word  imputed,  which  inclines  me  to  sus- 
pect you  would  cashier  the  thing.  But  let 
me  ask,  Sir,  How  can  we  be  justified  by  the 
merits  of  Christ,  unless  they  are  imputed 
to  us  ?  Would  the  payment  made  by  a  sure- 
ty procure  a  discharge  for  the  debtor,  unless 
it  was  placed  to  his  account  ?  It  is  certain 
the  sacrifices  of  old  could  not  make  an  atone- 
ment, unless  they  were  imputed  to  each 
offerer  respectively.  This  was  an  ordin- 
ance settled  by  Jehovah  himself.  I  And 
were  not  the  sacrifices,  was  not  their  impu- 
tation typical  of  Christ,  and  things  pertain- 
ing to  Christ?  The  former  prefiguring  bis 


*  The  merits  of  C}irist  is  certainly  an  ambiguous 

phrase,  antl  what  I  can  by  no  means  admire;  l)ut  as 

It  occurs  in  Mr  Wesley's  letter,  and  in  many  valuable 

that    his    penal    sufferings     are  I  "'"'^''^' ''^^^^''^'^ '^V  their  example,  used  itin  the  fol- 

•i     „~.:4.t„j        T    ,,M         ..      •  u     o-      ..       lowing  debate,  still  understanding  it,  and  still  using 

quite  omitted.      I    would    not  wish,  Sir,  to    it,  in  the  sense  explained  above. 

have  a  plainer  proof   that    you    do    not   dis-        1  To  gratify  Mr.  Wesley  I  have  admitted  his  phrase, 

card  the  active,  than   Aspasio  has  hereby  I '-'¥ '™rits  of  Christ,"  though,  as  it  is  a  phrase  of 

given  that  he  never  excludes  the  passive. 

By  your  question,  you  hint  a  dislike,  yet 
without  informing  us  what  it  is,  or  wherein 
Aspasio's  illustrations  and  proofs  are  defi- 
cient. You  propose,  and  only  propose,  an-  '  arrpardoned'and  "accepted  \hrough  the  "blood  and 
Other  definidon.  Well,  then,  to  differ  from  through  the  obedience  of  Christ,  we  have  a  warrant 
...  ,  Ml  .  ,  for  our  doctrine,  which  is  indisputable,  and  a  prece- 
you  as  little  as  possible,  nay,  to  agree  with  dent  for  our  language,  which  is  unexceptionable. 
you  as  far  as  truth  will  permit,  since  you  *  Lev.  vii.  18.  '  If  any  of  the  flesh  of  the  sa- 
1  .,  .  J  •.  r  ^  ^:  crifice  of  his  peace-offermgs  be  eaten  at  all  on  the 
are  so  loth  to  admit  Ot  our  representation,  third  day,  it  shall  not  be  accepted,  neither  shall  it  be 
we  will  accede  to  yours  ;  especially  if  it  be  imputed  unto  him  that  offereth  it ;'  it  shall  not  be  ac- 
t,^rv»u,.,t,„t  „,  1  •  J  J  1-ii.i  •  1  cepted.  Why?  for  this  reason,  because  it  shall  not  be 
^mewhat  explained,  and  a  little  improved.  i„Jputed.  A  plain  indication  that  the  latter  is  the 
For  indeed  the  words,  in  their  present  form,  I  cause  of  the  former:  That  without  imputation,  whe- 
arp  ratlipf  tim  v-imit.  tn.  n,^n~^t;t„to  on,.  A^  'her  it  be  of  the  tyiiical  or  real  sacrifice,  the  blood 
are  ratuei  urn  \ague  to  constitute  any  do- !  ^f  the  beast,  or  the  death  of  Christ,  there  is  no  accep- 
nnition.     Puidoning  and  accepting  may  liiip-  tance. 


dubious  import,  and  what  almost  any  sect  or  heresy 
will  subscribe,  I  should  much  sooner  choose  to  abide 
by  Aspasio's  language.  And  why  should  we  not  all 
speak  with  the  Scriptures  ?  Why  should  we  not  use 
the  expressions  of  the  apostle?  He  says,  justified  by 
the  blood  of  Christ ;  he  >ays,  made  righteous  by  the 
obedience  of  Christ.    When  therefore  we  say,  sinners 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


4S3 


all-flufficient  expiutioii,  the  latter  shadowing  |  of  his  charitable  paragraph,  wherein,  though 
forth  the  way  whereby  we  are  partakers  of  i  he  allows  such  people  to  be  safe,  yet  he  la 


its  efficacy.  The  righteousness,  (not  the 
righteousness  and  obedience,  Aspasiospealcs 
otherwise,)  which  Christ  performed,  is  reck- 
oned by  God  as  our  own.  This  you  call 
an  ambiguous  expression  ;  but  if  considered 
in  conjunction  with  the  foregoing  and  fol- 
lowing enlargements,  I  should  think  can 
hardly  deserve  the  charge.  Aspasio  all 
along  labours  to  be  understood.  In  this 
place  he  more  fully  opens  his  meaning  by 
giving  another  view  of  the  nature,  and  by 
specifying  the  effects  of  imputation.  The 
nature — it  being  the  same  as  placing  to  our 
account  something  not  our  own.  The 
effects — Christ's  righteousness  thus  placed 
to  our  account  being  as  effectual  for  obtain- 
ing our  salvation,  as  if  it  was  our  own  per- 
sonal qualification.  To  the  latter  you  ex- 
pressly agree,  to  the  former  you  make  no 
objection  :  To  the  whole  doctrine,  thus  ex- 
plained, you  elsewhere  declare  your  assent. 
If  in  all  this  we  may  depend  upon  you, 
Sir,  must  we  not  feel  an  alarming  shock  at 
your  adjuration  in  the  next  paragi'aph  ? 

"  For  Christ's  sake  do  not" — \VTiat  ? 
surely  nothing  less  can  excite  or  justify  this 
vehement  exclamation,  but  the  obtnision  of 
some  doctrine  that  is  most  glaringly  false, 
and  absolutely  damnable.  Shall  we  have 
such  a  solemn  tiring,  such  a  thunder  of  ex- 
])losioii,  only  to  silence  a  particular  phrase  ? 
In  another  person  this  would  look  like  pro- 
fane levity ;  in  Mr.  Wesley  the  softest  ap- 
|)('llation  we  can  give  it  is  idle  pomp.  All 
this  clamour  merely  against  words  !  words 
too,  the  explication  of  which,  and  the  doc- 
trine contained  in  them,  yourself  allow, 
bear  Sir,  what  is  a  word  or  a  phrase  ?  Can 
it  do  either  good  or  harm,  but  as  conveying 
liglit  or  wrong  sentiments ?  Will  the  mere 
jjronouncing  or  hearing  of  a  word,  (be  it 
aiiracadahra,  or  hlcigajan  selah,  or  imputed) 
without  its  idea,  poison  the  principles  of 
men,  and  induce  them  to  work  all  unclean- 
ness  with  greednjess  ?  As  you  have  been 
firing  without  an  enemy  (Aspasio  is  owned 
for  an  ally)  so  you  seem  to  be  triumphing 
without  a  victory.  Aspasio's  charity  for 
those  who  are  disgusted  at  tiie  expression, 
and  have  no  explicit  knowledge  of  the  doc- 
trine, is  guarded  by  the  words  immediately 
following,  "yet  live  under  tlie  belief  of  the 
truth,  and  in  the  exercise  of  the  duty:"  as 
well  as  by  the  atniexed  description  of  the 
persons,  and  their  temper;  who  are  far 
enough  from  fancying,  that  if  they  may  but 
be  pardoned  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  they 
can  olitain  the  <li\in('  favour,  and  a  title  to 
futine  happiness,  liy  their  own  good  beha- 
viour. Hence  it  will  appear  tliat  he  has 
been  too  eantiotis  to  jiart  with  the  very 
thing  for  whicii  he  is  eontending.  And  this 
is  more  abinidantlv  evident  from    the  close 


ments  their  perplexity,  and  their  deficiency 
in  light,  strength,  and  consolation.   "  The 
phrase  is  not  scriptural."      Suppose  it  were 
not,  this  would  afford  but  a  slight  reason 
for  so  passionate  an  outcry  :    However,  tins 
is  certain,  St.  Paul   uses   the  phrase    God 
imputeth,  Rom.  iv.  6,   and    that   righteous- 
ness   might    he      imputed,     Rom.    iv.    II. 
Now,  is  it  possible  that  there  should  be 
righteousness  imputed,  yet  not  an  imputed 
righteousness?      To  assert  this  must  argue 
either  a  wonderful  subtile  refinement,  or  an 
exceeding  strong  prejudice.     "  It  is  not  ne- 
cessary."     Perhaps  so;  but  is  it  not   ne- 
cessary Mr.    Wesley  should  either  inform 
us  what  sense  of  the  phrase   it  is  which  he 
apprehends   so  likely  to   mislead   men,  or 
else,  instead  of  exclaiming  against  Aspasio, 
should  join  all  his  force   with  him,  in  de- 
fending that   sense    which   they    both    es- 
pouse ?       "  It   has  done  immense    hurt." 
When  we  are  made  sensible  of  the  immense, 
or  indeed  of  any  real  hurt    done    by  the 
phrase  imputed ;  when   we  see  those  who 
dislike  it  cordially  warm  for  the  sentiment 
expressed  in  other  words,  we  will  then  con- 
sent to  resign  it  for  its  equivalent,  "reckon- 
ed as  our  o^vn,"  "  placed   to  our  account,'' 
"as  effectual  as  if  our  own  personal  qualifi- 
cation."    Till  then  we  must  guard  the  cas- 
ket for  the  sake  of  the  jewel.     We  prefer 
the  word  imputed,  because   it   says  more  at 
once  than  any  other   term  we  know,  and 
because  we  are  aware  of  a  common  practice 
used  in  all  ages  by  the   opposers  of  sound 
doctrine.     They  pretend  a  zeal  only  against 
the  phrase,  that  by  bringing  this  into  disuse, 
they  may  cause  that  to  be  forgotten.     Shall 
we  not  then  dispute  for  imputed  righteous- 
ness ?   Yes,  Sir,  we   must  dispute  both  for 
the  doctrine  and  for  the  phrase,  since  there 
are  persons  who  openly  strike  at  the  one, 
and  we  fear  with  a  view  to  supplant  the 
other.      Shall  we  not  dispute  for  imputed 
righteousness — though  the  words  are  a  grand 
peculiarity  of  the  Scriptures,  and  the  thing 
the  very  spirit  and  essence  of  the  gospel  ? 
Not  dispute  for  that   which  is  better  to  us 
sinners   than   all   worlds,    better  than    our 
hearts  could  wish  or  our  thonglits  conceive, 
which,  in  short,  is  the  best,  the  noblest,  the 
comj)letest  gift  that    God   himself  can  be- 
stow ? 

AVhen  such  a  gift,  and  such  a  righteous- 
ness, is  the  subject  of  disputation,  we 
must  not  give  place,  no,  not  for  an  hoin-  ; 
we  must  maintain  its  matchless  excellency 
so  long  us  we  haA-e  any  breath,  or  any  be- 
ing. We  must  say  in  direct  ojiposition  to 
your  fervent,  but  unadvised  zeal,  "  Imu- 
Christ's  sake,"  let  us  contend  earnestly  lor 
ini])uted  righteousness,  because  it  is  the 
brightest  jewel   in   his   mediatorial    crown. 


484 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


"  For  the  sake  of  immortal  souls,"  let  us  |  wifbout  the  most  amazing  inconsistency, 
hold  fast  and  hold  forth  this  precious  truth,  either  wish  to  secrete  the  doctrine,  or  oiler 
because  it  yields  the  strongest  consolation  to  discountenance  the  expression  ? 
to  the  guilty  conscience,  and  furnishes  the  "  There  is  no  manner  of  need  to  make 
most  endearing,  as  well  as  the  most  pre-  the  imputation  of  Christ's  active  righte- 
vailing  inducement  to  universal  obedience,  ousness  a  separate  head  of  discourse."  No 
"  To  ascribe  pardon  to  Christ's  passive,  manner  of  need,  even  though  you  declare 
eternal  life  to  his  active  obedience,  is  fanci-  that  this  active  righteousness,  together  with 
ful  rather  than  judicious."  The  remark  is  the  expiatory  death,  is  the  only  foundation 
just,  not  so  the  quotation;  Aspasio  is  |  of  your  hope  !  Can  you  think  it  possible 
somewhat  disfigured  by  your  distortion  of  1  to  treat  of  such  a  topic  too  particularly,  too 


his  features  ;  he  limps  a  little,  by  your  dis- 
location of  a  limb.  There  is  in  his  lan- 
guage, guard  enough  to  check  every  attempt 
either  to  dissolve  the  union,  or  sever  the 
co-agency,  of  the  different  parts  of  our 
Lord's  righteousness. 

But  let  us  give  Aspasio  a  fair  hearing. 
Thus  he  expresses  himself  -.  "  To  divide  them 
(the  active  and  passive  righteousness)  into 
detached  portions,  independent  on  each 
other,  seems  to  be  fanciful  rather  than  ju- 
dicious." To  divide  into  detached  portions, 
is  more  than  to  distinguish  between  the  one 
and  the  other.  The  latter  Aspasio  practises, 
the  former  he  disavows.  "  Independent  of 
each  other  : "  Do  these  words  stand  for  no- 
thing ?  have  they  no  meaning,  that  here  you 
show  them  no  regard,  and  never  recollect 
them  throughout  your  whole  epistle  ?  Had 
you  honoured  them  with  any  degree  of  no- 
tice, several  of  your  objections  must  have 
Deen  precluded,  and  if  the  more  candid 
reader  pleases  to  bear  them  in  memory,  se- 
veral of  your  objections  will  at  the  very  first 
view  fall  to  the  gromid.  Besides,  the  per- 
son who  tells  us  the  case  seems  to  be  so,  is 
not  so  peremptory,  as  he  who  roundly 
affirms  it  to  be  so  :  the  former  is  all  that 
Aspasio  has  advanced.  Though  I  am  ^vill- 
ing  that  you  should  correct  his  style,  yet  I 
must  beg  of  you.  Sir,  not  to  make  him  quite 
so  positive  ;  let  him  have  the  satisfaction 
of  being  modest,  even  where  he  has  the 
misfortune,  in  your  opinion  at  least,  to  be 
erroneous. 

"  Christ's  universal  obedience  from  his 
birth  to  his  death,  is  the  one  foundation  of 
my  hope,"  says  Aspasio.  To  which  you 
assent,  and  with  a  laudable  vehemence  re- 
ply, "  This  is  unquestionably  right."  I 
wish,  Sir,  you  would  ponder  your  words  be- 
fore you  speak,  at  least  before  you  print, 
that  there  may  be  something  fixed  and  cer- 
tain, on  which  we  may  depend,  and  by 
which  you  will  abide.  One  would  think, 
after  this  acknowledgment,  pronounced  with 
such  an  air  of  solemnity,  you  could  never  so 
Tar  forget  yourself,  as  to  open  your  mouth 
against  the  obedience,  the  universal  obedi- 
ence of  Christ,  which  surely  must  include 
both  what  he  wrought,  and  what  he  suffer- 
ed. You  confess  it  to  be  your  foundation, 
—the  foundation  of  your  hope,  the  only 
foundation  of  your  hope  :    Can   you  then, 


distinctly,  too  minutely  ?  Aspasio  has 
shown  the  need,  or  assigned  the  reason  for 
this  method  of  handling  the  subject ;  be- 
cause it  sets  the  fulness  of  our  Lord's  me- 
rit in  the  clearest  light,  and  gives  the  com- 
pletest  honour  to  God's  holy  law.  Have 
you  alleged  any  thing  to  disprove,  or  so 
much  as  to  invalidate  his  plea  ?  Ought  not 
this  to  have  been  done  before  your  assertion 
can  be  valid  or  even  decent  ? 

Besides,  are  there  not  persons  in  the 
world,  who  fondly  imagine,  that  if  they  can 
but  have  pardon  through  Christ,  they  shall 
by  their  own  doings  secure  eternal  life  ? 
When  such  persons  are  in  danger  of  over- 
lookingthe  active  obedience  of  the  Redeem, 
er,  why  should  you  not,  for  their  sakes,  al- 
low us  to  make  the  imputation  of  his  righte- 
ousness "  a  separate  head  of  discourse  ?'' 
that,  seeing  the  transcendent  perfection  of 
Christ's  work,  they  may  cease  from  confid- 
ing in  their  own,  Heb.  iv.  10 ;  lest  it  be 
said  to  them  another  day,  "  I  \vill  declare 
thy  righteousness,  and  thy  works,  that  (for 
the  grand  piu^jose  of  justification,)  they  shall 
not  profit  thee.  Isa.  Ivii.  12. 

We  must  therefore  take  leave  to  dwell 
upon  the  active  righteousness  of  our  Lord; 
we  must  display  its  perfection,  in  opposition 
to  all  the  vain  pretensions  of  human  qualifi- 
cations, endeavours,  or  attainments  ;  we 
must  demonstrate  that,  as  the  heavens  are 
higher  than  the  earth,  so  is  this  divine  obe- 
dience higher  than  all  the  works  of  the  chil- 
dren of  men.  Yea,  so  transcendent  in  it- 
self, and  absolutely  perfect,  as  to  be  incapa- 
ble of  any  augmentation.  All  the  good 
deeds  of  all  the  saints,  could  they  be  added 
to  it,  would  not  increase  in  any  degree  its 
justifying  efficacy  :  It  is  like  all  the  other 
works  of  God,  concerning  which  we  are 
told,  "  nothing  can  be  added  to  them."  This 
brings  to  my  remembrance  a  most  beautiful 
and  sublime  representation,  which  you  must 
have  read  in  the  evangelical  prophet, 
"  Every  valley  shall  be  exalted,  and  every 
mountain  and  hill  shall  be  made  low,  and 
the  crooked  shall  be  made  straight,  and  the 
rough  places  plain ;  and  the  glory  of  the 
Lord  shall  be  revealed,  and  all  flesh  shall 
see  it  together."  Here  mountains  are  de- 
molished, vallies  are  elevated,  and  the  earth 
is  levelled  into  a  spacious  plain,  on  purpose 
to  accomplish  what  Mr.  Wesley  supposes 


REV.  MR.   WESLEY. 


4.S5 


unnecessary  ;  on  purpose  to  give  the 
most  clear,  full,  striking  view  of  the  great 
Redeemer,  of  his  wonderful  person,  and 
glorious  work  ;  that  he  alone  may  be  dis- 
tinguished and  exalted  ;  may  walk  majestic 
and  conspicuous  through  the  midst  of  man- 
kind, as  being  singly  and  completely  suffi- 
cient for  the  recovery  of  sinners.  That  all 
flesh — not  Jews  only,  but  Gentiles  also  ;  not 
men  of  reputation  only,  but  the  meanest  of 
mortals,  the  most  infamous  of  wretches — 
may  together  see  his  glory,  may  on  equal 
ground,  without  any  pre-eminence  of  one 
above  another,  contemplate  and  partake  of 
his  precious  death  and  perfect  righteousness, 
which  are  the  one  object  of  divine  compla- 
cency, and  the  sovereign  glory  of  the  Lord 
Redeemer.  According  to  the  import  of  this 
magnificent  piece  of  imagery,  all  the  differ- 
ences which  subsist  between  one  man  and 
another  are  abolished  ;  nothing  but  Christ 
and  his  complete  work  are  proposed,  as  the 
cause  of  justification  and  the  ground  of  hope. 
Faith  beholds  nothing  but  the  divine  Jesus  : 
it  never  inquires.  What  have  I  done  ?  what 
have  I  suffered  ?  But,  what  has  that  most 
illustrious  personage  done,  and  what  suffer- 
ed ?  What  has  Jehovah  manifested  in  our 
nature,  wrought  for  the  benefit  and  redemp- 
tion of  sinners  ?  Faith  is  never  weary  of 
viewing  or  revievv'ing  either  the  active  or 
passive  obedience  of  Immanuel.  Faith  will 
declare,  that  neither  of  these  points  can  be 
set  forth  in  too  strong  or  too  recommending 
a  light.  Faith  is  ever  desiring  to  see  more 
and  more  of  the  Saviour's  worthiness,  that 
the  soul  may  rejoice  in  his  excellency,  and 
be  filled  with  all  his  fulness. 

May  you,  dear  Sir,  abound  in  this  faith, 
and  live  under  such  views  of  God  our  Savi- 
our ;  then  I  flatter  myself  you  will  be  dis- 
satisfied with  your  present  opinion,  and  not 
be  disgusted  at  the  freedom  of  speech  used 
by  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  n. 

Reverend  Sir, — lam  particularly  pleased 
at  my  entrance  on  this  epistle,  because  it 
presents  me  with  a  view  of  Mr.  Wesley  in 
very  good  humour.  Instead  of  rebuking, 
he  commends.  He  puts  off  the  frown  of 
censure,  for  the  smile  of  approbation.  I 
hope  to  follow  the  amiable  exaini)le  ;  to  ap- 
prove and  applaud,  wherever  opportunity 
offers,  and  truth  permits.  And  though  I 
shall  be  sometimes  obligeil  to  oppose  or  re- 
fute, yet  I  shall  do  both  with  all  the  tender- 
ness and  lenity  which  may  consist  with  a 
proper  vindication  of  the  truth. 

"  The  third  and  fourth  Dialogues  contain 
an  admirable  illustration  and  confirmation 
of  the  great  doctrine  of  Chriit's  satisfac- 


tion." This  is  generously  acknowledged. 
Yet  even  here  it  so  unhappily  fulls  out,  that 
complaisance  gets  the  start  of  judgment. 
Did  you  advert,  Sir,  to  the  state  of  the 
controversy,  or  see  the  consequence  of  As- 
pasio's  arguing,  you  must  either  give  up  a 
favourite  tenet,  or  else  dissent  from  his 
doctrine. 

Aspasio  maintains,  that  Christ's  sufTer- 
ings  were  punishment ;  real,  proper  punish- 
ment. Now,  could  Christ,  an  innocent 
person,  be  punished,  without  bearing  sin — 
the  very  sin  of  others  ?  Could  Christ,  a  di- 
vine person,  bear  the  sin  of  others,  and  not 
do  it  perfectly  away  ?  or  can  they  whose 
guilt  was  punished  in  Christ,  and  whose  sin 
is  perfectly  done  away  by  Christ,  can  they 
perish  eternally  ?  But  I  forbear.  Yourself 
and  the  judicious  reader,  will  easily  appre- 
hend my  meaning,  and  discern  the  point  to 
which  these  questions  lead.  All  the  bene- 
fit I  propose  by  this  remark  is,  to  convince 
Mr.  Wesley  that  he  is  not  incapable  of  a 
mistake  ;  that  he  has  tripped  a  little  in  what, 
he  commends,  and  therefore  may  possibly 
make  a  false  step  in  what  he  condemns. 

Unless  I  may  be  allowed  to  propose  this 
additional  advantage,  the  rectifying  an  im- 
propriety in  some  people's  apprehensions 
concerning  our  Lord's  vicarious  suffering. 
It  is  usual  to  say,  "  He  bore  the  punish- 
ment, not  the  guilt ;  the  penalty,  not  tho 
fault:"  which  seems  to  be  a  distinction  more 
scrupulous  than  judicious  ;  answers  no  other 
end,  but  that  of  derogating  from  our  Redeem- 
er's grace,  and  weakening  the  foundation  of 
our  hopes. 

The  guilt  of  sin,  I  take  to  be  what  the 
apostle  calls  avof^ia,  the  transgression  of  the 
law.  From  hence  arises  the  obligation  to 
punishment.  This  guilt  our  Lord  so  truly 
bore,  that  he  vvas  no  less  liable  to  the  arrest 
of  justice,  and  the  infliction  of  vengeance, 
than  if  he  himself  had  committed  the  most 
enormous  crimes.  "  He  bare  (says  the  Ho- 
ly Ghost)  the  sin  of  many."  But  punish- 
ment cannot  be  reckoned  the  same  as  sin, 
any  more  than  wages  can  be  accounted  the 
same  as  work.  If,  then,  our  Lord  bore  sin 
itself,  he  must  bear  every  thing  criminal  that 
is  included  in  it ;  no  circumstance  of  de- 
merit or  aggravation  excepted. 

He  bore  the  fault  ;  therefore  he  makes 
us  without  fault  in  the  sight  of  God  ;  and 
will  present  us  faultless  before  the  throne, 
with  exceeding  joy.  He  bore  the  guilt ; 
therefore  our  Lord's  sufferings  were  real 
punishment,  justly  inflicted  by  the  supreme 
judge,  and  on  principles  of  justice,  discharge 
us  from  all  puni.shment  whatever.  He  bore 
the  fifth, — therefore  he  felt  what  those 
wretched  souls  endure,  who  die  in  their  ini- 
quities; his  eternal  Father  forsook  him,  and 
hid  his  face  from  him,  as  from  an  abomina- 
ble object. 


4«6 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


This  renders  our  Saviour's  propitiation  that  hveth,*  to  whom  some  are  married,  and 
great,  wonderful,  glorious.  Seeing  this,  be-  to  whom  others  are  dead  ?  Aspasio  will 
lieving  this,  we  have  nothing  to  fear.    Con-    always   think  himself,   and   his   manner   of 


science  is  satisfied,  and  the  accuser  of  the 
brethren  is  silenced.  Nothing  can  be  laid 
to  our  charge  by  the  righteous  law,  and  no- 
thing remains  to  awaken  the  indignation  of 
the  righteous  judge.  Whereas,  if  this  was 
not  done,  we  have  reason  to  be  terribly  ap- 
prehensive. If  Christ  bore  not  the  guilt, 
then  sinners  must  bear  it  in  their  own  per- 
sons ;  if  he  took  not  away  the  filth,  then  it 
must  lie  on  transgressors,  and  render  them 
loathsome  for  ever.  If  the  fault  was  not 
transferred  to  him,  then  it  must  abide  upon 
us,  and  be  our  everlasting  ruin. 

Neither  does  this  doctrine  in  any  degree 
detract  from  our  Saviour's  dignity.  It  ra- 
thergives  him  the  honour  due  unto  his  name, 
Jesus.  As  in  the  scales  of  a  balance,  the 
lower  the  one  descends,  the  higher  the  other 
mounts,  so  the  deeper  our  Mediator's  hu- 
miliation sinks,  to  the  more  exalted  height 
does  his  glory  rise.  The  more  horrible  the 
condition  to  which  he  submitted,  the  more 
illustriously  his  goodness  shines,  and  the 
more  clearly  the  perfection  of  his  work  ap- 
pears. 

Satisfaction  was  made  to  the  divine  law, 
says  Aspasio.  "  I  do  not  remember  any 
such  expression  in  Scripture,"  replies  Mr. 
Wesley.  But  do  you  not  remember  this 
expression  in  the  epistle  to  the  Galatians, 
"  Christ  was  made  under  the  law?"*  Why 
was  he  made  under  the  law,  but  to  fulfil  its 
precepts,  and  undergo  its  penalty?  and  is 
not  this  a  satisfaction  to  its  demands  ? 

The  truth  is,  the  divine  law  was  violated 
by  our  sins.  It  was  absolutely  impossible 
for  us  to  make  any  reparation  ;  therefore 
Christ,  in  our  nature  and  in  our  stead,  sub- 
mitted to  its  obligations,  that  he  might  mag- 
nify its  injured  authority,  and  render  it  in 
the  highest  degree  venerable  -.  might  make 
even  its  tremendous  sanctions  and  rigorous 
requirements,  the  very  basis  of  grace,  mercy, 
and  peace.  Divinely  noble  contrivance  ! 
unspeakably  precious  expedient !  By  this 
means,  vengeance  and  forbearance  have  met 
together ;  wrath  and  love  have  kissed  each 
other,  in  the  redemption  of  sinners.  The 
law  says,  I  am  fulfilled  :  Justice  says,  I  am 
satisfied.  While  both  concur  to  expedite 
and  ascertain  the  salvation  of  a  believer. 

"  This  way  of  speaking  of  the  law,  as  a 
person  injured,  and  to  be  satisfied,  seems 
hardly  defensible."  Does  not  the  apostle 
speak  of  the  law  as  a  person  ?     A  person 

•  Gal.  iv.  4.  There  is,  I  think,  something  uncouth 
in  this  expression.  Isvo/tfvos,  it  is  true,  very  well 
comports  with  lx)th  the  clauses,  s«  yuta,tx(is  and 
wo  vofcosi.  But  in  the  English  translation,  the  parti- 
ciple might  not  ungr.acefully  be  varied,  perhaps  in 
wimesuch  manner,  "  The  Son  of  God  was  madeof  a 
woman,  and  became  sulijett  to  the  law." 


speaking,  sufficiently  defensible,  so  long  as 
he  has  the  apostolical  practice  for  his  pre- 
cedent. 

Having  such  a  precedent,  he  wants  no 
other  ;  otherwise  he  might  plead  the  autho- 
rity of  Mr.  John  Wesley ;  who,  in  his  ex- 
planatory notes  on  the  New  Testament, 
says,  "  The  law  is  here  spoken  of  (by  a 
common  figure)  as  a  person,  to  which,  as  to 
an  husband,  life  and  death  are  ascribed. "f 
And  if  the  law  be  an  husband,  may  not  an 
husband  be  injured  ?  May  not  an  injured 
husband  insist  upon  being  satisfied  ? 

"  All  the  benefits  of  the  new  covenant 
are  the  purchase  of  Christ's  blood  ;"  this  is 
Aspasio's  belief.  To  this  you  assent, 
"  Surely  they  are." — With  pleasure  Ishould 
receive  your  suffiage,  was  I  not  afraid  that 
this  is  your  meaning — They  are  so  the  pur- 
chase of  his  blood,  as  not  to  have  any  de- 
pendence on,  or  any  connexion  with,  his 
most  perfect  obedience.  I  was  alarmed  by 
the  close  of  your  last  paragraph,  and  my 
suspicions  are  increased  by  the  following  ne- 
gative interrogation  :  "  After  this  has  been 
fully  proved,  where  is  the  need,  where  is 
the  use  of  contending  so  strenuously  for  the 
imputation  of  his  righteousness  ?" 

Aspasio  has  informed  you.  Sir,  in  the  se- 
cond Dialogue.  He  has  there  shewn  the 
advantage  of  unfolding,  circumstantially  and 
copiously,  this  momentous  truth.  To  give 
you  farther  satisfaction,  he  has  quoted  the 
words  of  an  eminent  divine,  of  which  the 
following  are  a  part :  "  Whoever  rejects  the 
doctrine  of  the  imputation  of  our  Saviour's 
righteousness  to  man,  does,  by  so  doing, 
reject  the  imputation  of  man's  sin  to  our 
Saviour,  and  all  the  consequences  of  it." 
If  you  are  not  satisfied  with  Mr.  Staynoe's 
reasons,  you  are  remitted  to  St.  Paul.  In 
Rom.  ch.v.  (a  chapter  of  distinguished  dig' 
nity  and  importance)  he  teaches  mankind 
that  Christ  died  for  the  ungodly ;  that  we 
are  justified  through  his  blood,  are  saved 
from  wrath  by  his  death.  After  all  this  had 
been  fully  proved,  where  was  the  iieed, 
where  was  the  use  of  insisting  largely  upon 
that  obedience  of  one  by  which  many  are 
made  righteous?  ver  19.  Or  upon  that 
righteousness  of  one,  which  is  imputed  to 
many  for  justification  of  life  ?  Yet  this  the 
inspired  writer  evidently  does. 

Answer  the  foregoing  question  in  behalf 
of  the  apostle,  and  you  will  answer  it  in  be- 
half of  Aspasio.  Or  if  you  decline  the  of- 
fice, give  me  leave,  Sir,  to  answer  it  on  be- 


•  Rom.vii.l.  4.  The  word  ^„,  at  the  end  of  the 
first  verse  is  spoken  of  the  law,  not  of  the  man,  as 
Mr.  Wesley  and  othershave  very  justly  obser\Td.  It 
should  lh(  refore  be  translated  not  he  but  it. 

I  See  Explan.  Notes,  Rom.  vii.  1. 


REV.   MR.   WiiSLEY. 


487 


half  of  them  both.  The  blood  of  Christ  is 
never  considered  as  independent  on,  or  de- 
tached from,  the  righteousness  uf  Christ. 
They  united  their  blessed  efficacy  in  accom- 
plishing the  work  of  our  redemption  :  we 
always  look  upon  tiiem  as  a  grand  and  glo- 
rious aggregate,  in  their  agency  inseparable, 
though  in  mediation  distinguishable.  Being 
thus  distinguishable,  at  proper  times  we  me- 
ditate upon  each  distinctly :  We  display 
each  with  all  the  particularity  possible,  and 
cannot  but  contend  for  the  imputation  of 
one,  as  well  as  of  the  other.  The  farther 
we  dig  into  either  of  these  spiritual  mines, 
the  greater  fund  of  treasures  we  discover. 
The  more  we  glorify  the  Saviour,  the  more 
we  strengthen  faith,  and  the  greater  addition 
we  make  to  our  comfort,  our  peace,  our  joy. 

Aspasio  inquires,  If  Christ  was  our  sub- 
stitute as  to  penal  suffering,  why  not  as  to 
justifying  obedience  ?  You  reply,  "  The 
former  is  expressly  asserted  in  Scripture, 
the  latter  is  not  expressly  asserted  there." 
A  small  inaccuracy  here.  Sir  :  The  former 
is  no  more  a  Scripture  expression  than  the 
latter ;  while  the  latter  is  no  less  the  doc- 
trine and  sense  of  Scripture  than  the  for- 
mer. A  little  piece  of  forgetfuiness  like- 
wise ;  since  you  just  now  acknowledged, 
that  "  Christ's  universal  obedience  was  the 
one  foundation  of  your  hope."  But  how 
can  his  obedience  be  any  foundation  of  your 
hope,  if  in  this  capacity  he  was  not  your 
substitute  ?  Take  away  the  circumstance 
of  substitution,  and  there  is  no  more  ground 
for  your  reliance  on  the  obedience  of  Christ, 
than  for  your  reliance  on  the  obedience  of 
Gabriel.  We  are  made  the  righteousness 
of  God,  because  we  are  in  him  as  our  proxy 
and  our  head  ;  because  he  wrought  the  jus- 
tifying righteousness,  not  only  in  our  nature, 
but  in  our  name  ;  not  only  as  our  benefac- 
tor, but  as  our  representative. 

"As  sin  and  misery  have  abounded 
through  the  first  Adam,  mercy  and  grace 
have  nuicb  more  abounded  through  the  se- 
cond. So  that  now  none  can  have  any  rea- 
son to  complain."  Here  indeed  we  have 
Aspasio's  words,  but  in  a  patched  and  dis- 
figured condition.  Let  any  one  read  the 
whole  of  these  passages,  and  judge  whether 
they  can  be  fairly  applied  to  the  doctrines 
of  election  or  predestination.  Yet  Mr. 
Wesley  is  resolved  at  all  adventures,  with 
or  without  occasion,  to  introduce  these  sub- 
jects of  deep  and  perplexed  disputation. 
Therefore  he  replies,  "  No,  not  if  the  se- 
cond Adam  died  for  all ;  otherwise,  all  for 
whom  he  did  not  die,  have  great  reason  to 
complain." 

Here,  Sir,  do  you  not  force  an  inference 
from  Aspasio's  words,  foreign  to  his  design? 
He  is  speaking  of  those  who  betake  them- 
selves to  Christ,  and  are  recovered  through 
his  righteousness.     Such  persons  he  parti- 


cularly mentions,  ofsucn  aioiic  ne  discour- 
ses ;  without  considering  the  case  of  others, 
who,  despising  or  neglecting  the  Redeem- 
er, reject  the  counsel  of  God  against  them- 
selves. Would  it  not  be  as  edifying  to  the 
reader,  and  as  agreeable  to  your  office,  if 
you  should  join  with  Aspasio  in  displaying 
the  free,  superabundant,  infinitely  rich  grace 
of  our  God  ;  altogether  as  becoming  this, 
as  to  divert  his  aim,  and  retard  his  steps, 
when  he  is  pressing  forwards  to  this  prize  of 
our  high  calling  in  Christ  Jesus  ? 

Aspasio's  words  are,  "  When  we  betake 
ourselves  to  Christ  Jesus,  we  shall  find,  that 
as  sin  and  misery  have  abounded,"'  &c. 
Please  to  observe,  Sir,  how  he  limits  his 
discourse,  consequently  is  obliged  to  defend 
nothing  but  what  corresponds  with  such  li- 
mitation. 

Had  the  Israelites  any  cause  to  be  dissa- 
tisfied with  the  provision  made  for  their 
sustenance  and  their  cure,  when  the  serpent 
of  brass  was  lifted  up  on  the  pole,  and  when 
the  bread  from  heaven  lay  round  about  their 
tents  ?  No  more  have  sinners  any  cause  to 
think  themselves  aggrieved,  when  the  sal- 
vation of  God  is  evidently  set  before  them 
in  the  gospel — is  brought  to  their  very  door 
in  the  preaching  of  the  word — and  they 
are  allowed,  importuned,  commanded  to  re- 
ceive it  by  faith.  This  is  enough  for  me. 
Enough  this  for  any  transgressors,  who 
want,  not  to  gratify  curiosity,  but  to  inherit 
life.  If  they,  or  you.  Sir,  choose  to  pry 
further,  and  to  intrude  into  the  divine  se- 
crets, I  must  leave  you  to  yourselves ;  say- 
ing as  I  depart,  "  The  secret  things  belong 
unto  the  Lord  our  God  ;  but  those  things 
which  are  revealed  belong  unto  us  and  our 
children,"  Deut-  xxix.  29. 

"  The  whole  world  of  believers."  "  This 
is  an  expression  which  never  occurs  in 
Scripture."  It  affords  me  a  kind  of  pre- 
sumptive proof,  that  solid  objections  are 
not  at  hand,  when  such  shadows  are  listed 
in  the  service.  I  should  be  under  no  pain 
if  you  could  prove  your  charge  beyond  all 
contradiction.  To  what  would  it  amount? 
Why,  that  Aspasio  having  occasion  to  men- 
tion a  certain  topic,  happened  not  to  make 
use  of  the  very  syllables  and  letters  made 
use  of  in  Scripture.  And  do  you  or  I,  Sir, 
in  all  our  sermons,  journals,  preservatives, 
and  Christian  libraries,  undertake  to  use 
none  but  Scriptural  expressions  ?  Had  we 
done  this,  one  benefit  might  indeed  have  ac- 
crued to  the  public  :  It  would  considerably 
have  reduced  our  volumes. — But  I  trille  as 
well  as  Mr.  Wesley.  You  proceed  to  en- 
force your  remonstrance  by  adding,  "  Nei- 
ther has  the  expression  any  countenance  from 
Scripture."  I  am  really  ashamed  to  detain 
our  readers  any  longer  upon  so  trivial  a 
point.  Therefore  what  1  am  going  to  re- 
ply is  only  a  word  to  yourself     You,  Sir, 


488 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


can  tell  who  it  is  that  affirms  in  a  certain 
hymn, 

For  every  man,  'tis  finished,  'tis  past. 
The  world's  forgiven  for  Jesus'  sake. 

The  world  forgiven  ?  What,  all  the  world, 
every  child  of  Adam  ?  They  who  believe 
not  on  Christ  and  die  in  their  sins  ?  This 
yon  cannot  mean  ;  this  you  dare  not  assert ; 
this,  I  think,  no  mortal  can  suppose.  You 
yourself  therefore,  by  "  the  world,"  must 
intend  "the  believing  world."  And  are 
you  offended  at  Aspasio  for  commenting  on 
your  text?  for  expressing  plainly  what  is 
implied  in  yoiu'  own  words  ? 

"  In  the  Lord  shall  all  the  house  of  Israel. 
be  justified."  This  text  Aspasio  quotes, 
and  acquiesces  in  the  common  version,  upon 
which  you  animadvert :  "  It  ought  unques- 
tionably to  be  rendered  hy  or  through  the 
Lord."  How  hard  is  Aspasio's  lot !  If  he 
does  not  use  the  exact  language  of  Scripture, 
he  is  arraigned  at  your  bar — witness  the 
preceding  objection  ;  if  he  does  use  the  ex- 
act language  of  Scripture,  as  in  the  present 
instance,  you  indict  him  for  an  erroneous 
translation.  So  that  it  is  next  to  impossi- 
ble to  escape  your  censure. 

In  the  Lord,  you  affirm,  is  not  the  pure 
language  of  Scripture  ;  it  is  a  wrong  tran- 
slation, 'f^nd  ought  unquestionably  to  be 
rendered,  hy  or  through  the  Lord."  Yet, 
Quisquis  adhuc  una  \partam  colitasse  Miner- 
vam.  Whoever  has  leamt  Hebrew  no  more 
than  a  month,  will  assure  our  English  rea- 
der, that  the  prefix  b  is  the  very  first  word  in 
<he  Bible.  Must  it  there  be  translated  by  or 
through  the  beginning  ?  If  our  young  scho- 
lar have  only  his  psalter,  he  can  show  the 
same  participle  occurring  three  times  with- 
in the  first  verse  :  In  the  counsel — in  the 
way — in  the  seat.  Twice  in  the  second 
verse  :  His  delight  is  in  the  law — in  his 
law  will  he  exercise  himself.  Three  times 
more  in  the  remainder  of  the  Psalm : 
"  Shall  bring  forth  fruit  in  his  season" — 
"  shall  not  stand  in  judgment" — "  neither 
in  the  congregation  of  the  righteous."  Now 
let  the  English  reader  judge  for  himself, 
whether  the  Hebrew  prefix  must  "  unques- 
tionably be  rendered"  in  all  these  places 
"  by  or  through.'"  By  or  through  his  season ! 
By  or  through  the  congregation!  But  I 
stop  ;  there  is  no  need  to  apply  all  the  pas- 
sages.  Neither  is  there  any  need  of  criti- 
cal skill  in  languages  to  determine  concern- 
ing any  one  of  them.  Common  sense  in 
this  case  is  suflSciently  qualified  to  be  our 
critic  and  our  arbitrator.  I  only  wisJi,  Sir, 
you  had  produced  the  evidence  for  the  cor- 
rected version.  Then  the  public  might 
have  seen  on  which  side  the  balance  were 
likely  to  turn,  and  which  were  the  most  co- 
gent logic  :  "  Aspiisio's  doctrine  is  false 
ihcreforc  the  translation  is  wrong  ;  or,  tin 


translation  is  fair,  therefore  his  doctrine  is 
true." 

By  this  time,  I  believe,  the  unlearned 
reader  will  begin  to  discern  what  degree  of 
credit  is  due  to  your  criticisms  upon  the 
original,  and  to  your  alteration  of  the  com- 
mon version,  when  they  are  supported  by 
nothing  more  than  your  bare  assertion.  I 
also  begin  to  be  apprehensive  that  our  can-  - 
vassing  the  sense  of  words,  and  sifting  the 
dead  languages,  will  be  no  very  agreeable 
entertainment  to  any  reader :  I  will  there- 
fore for  the  future  be  more  concise  in  the 
execution  of  this  business  ;  especially  as  I 
have  here  given  a  specimen  of  what  might 
be  done.  I  will  try  if  it  is  not  possible  to 
animate  what  would  otherwise  be  dull,  and 
to  blend  godly  edifying  with  critical  disqui- 
sition. 

"  Ye  are  complete  in  him."  With  this 
translation  also  Mr.  Wesley  finds  fault  ; 
"  The  words  literally  rendered  are.  Ye  are 
filled  with  him."  I  am  ready  to  grant  that 
places  may  be  found  where  the  preposition 
iv  must  be  understood  according  to  your 
sense.  But  then  every  one  kno\\s  that  this 
is  not  the  native,  obvious,  literal  meaning ; 
rather  a  meaning  swayed,  influenced,  mould- 
ed by  the  preceding  or  following  word. 
The  literal  signification  of  £v  uvtu  is  as  we 
have  rendered  it.  Nor  is  there  the  least 
occasion  to  depart  from  the  received  inter- 
pretation ;  it  is  suitable  to  the  context,  and 
to  the  scope  of  the  whole  epistle. 

However,  we  will  suppose  your  criticism 
to  be  just.  Does  this  destroy  or  enervate 
Aspasio's  argument  ?  Would  you  have  one 
meaning  contradict  or  supplant  the  other  ? 
"  Ye  are  filled  with  him,  therefore  ye  are  not 
"  complete  in  him  ?"  Does  the  former  sense 
include  or  imply  the  latter  ?  Can  you,  or  I, 
or  any  one,  be^filled  with  every  requisite  for 
our  recovery  and  happiness,  yet  not  be  com- 
plete ?  It  seems  therefore  you  get  nothing 
by  this  criticism,  but  the  satisfaction  of  do- 
ing violence  to  the  phrase,  without  any  im- 
provement of  the  sense,  or  any  advantage  to 
your  cause. 

"  The  whole  passage,  (you  affirm)  re- 
lates to  sanctification,  not'to  justification." 
Where  is  your  proof,  Sir?  This  we  always 
expect.  This  Mr.  Wesley  seldom,  if  ever, 
condescends  to  give.  "  Yes,  (he  says,) 
any  unprejudiced  reader  may  observe  it."  A 
strange  kind  of  proof !  reducible  to  no  fi- 
gure in  logic,  unless  there  be  a  figure  styled 
presumption.  Was  I  to  answer  for  the  un- 
prejudiced reader,  I  think  he  would  observe 
the  very  reverse.  The  words  of  the  apostle 
are  not  a  little  forcible  against  your  sense  of 
the  passage,  as  will  appear  from  the  transi- 
tive adverb  also.  The  next  and  the  subse- 
quent verses,  we  allow,  relate  to  sanctifica- 
tion :  If  this  verse  does  the  same,  such  is  the 
manner  of  the   apostle's   reasoning,    "  In 


REV.  MR.   WESLEY. 


489 


whom  ye  are  sanctified,  in  whom  also  ye  are 
sanctified."  Whereas,  if  the  first  clause  de- 
notes the  justification  of  the  Colossian  con- 
verts through  the  righteousness  of  Christ ; 
if  the  following  periods  describe  their  sanc- 
tification,  as  a  consequence  of  this  most  hap- 
pily operating  privilege  ;  then  the  reasoning 
is  just,  and  the  transition  graceful,  "  In  him 
ye  are  completely  justified,  in  him  also  ye 
are  truly  sanctified." 

The  whole  passage  is  calculated  to  teach 
us,  that  Christ  is  the  fulness  of  our  suffi- 
ciency. In  him,  and  in  him  alone,  there  is 
enough  to  answer  all  the  purposes  of  wis- 
dom, righteousness,  sanctification,  and  re- 
demption. It  is  intended  likewise  to  ad- 
monish us,  that  we  should  rest  satisfied  with 
him  alone,  in  opposition  to  all  the  fond  in- 
ventions of  men,  who  would  introduce  some- 
thing else  for  the  ground  of  our  confidence 
and  the  cause  of  our  consolation  ;  as  though 
it  was  said, — 

If  indeed  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  had  been 
an  ordinary  person,  or  merely  a  created  be- 
ing, ye  might  well  be  offended  at  my  doc- 
trine :  Ye  might  then  with  some  colour  of 
reason,  seek  to  the  maxims  of  philosophy  for 
wisdom,  or  to  the  works  of  the  law  for 
righteousness.  But  Christ  is  an  immensely 
glorious  person,  "  for  in  him  are  hid  all  the 
treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge  :" 
Christ  is  an  incomparably  exalted  sovereign, 
"  for  he  is  the  head  of  all  principalities  and 
powers  :"  Yea,  Christ  is  the  supreme  incom- 
prehensible Jehovah,  "  for  in  him  dwelleth 
all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily."  Be- 
ing therefore  transplanted  into  him  by  faith, 
ye  are  complete  partakers  of  him,  ye  have 
every  blessing  and  all  good.  Thought  can- 
not imagine,  nor  desire  crave,  asiy  thing 
farther,  greater,  higher. 

Matchless  privilege  !  Exalted  felicity  !  O 
may  the  knowledge,  the  experimental  know- 
ledge of  it,  fill  our  hearts  as  the  waters  cover 
the  abyss  of  the  sea !  Then  will  we  sing 
the  hymn  which  once  expressed  your  senti- 
ments, and  still  expresses  mine. 

.Join  earth  and  heaven  to  bless 

The  Lord  our  righteousness. 

The  mystery  of  redemption  this, 
This  the  Saviour's  strange  design; 

Man's  offence  was  counted  nis, 
Cur's  his  righteousne.ss  divine. 

In  him  complete  we  shine. 

His  death,  his  life  is  mine. 

Fully  am  I  justified  ; 
Free  from  sin,  and  more  than  free ; 

Guiltless,  since  for  me  he  died, 
Highteous,  since  he  lived  for  me.* 

The  text  lately  quoted  from  Isaiah,  is  part 


•  See  p.  5fi  of  Hymns  and  Spiritual  Songs.  Ano- 
nymous, indeed,  but  universally  ascribed  to  Mr. 
Wesley.  In  these  excel  lent  lines,  how  strongly  m:irked 
arc  the  sentiments  of  the  gospel !  Our  on'cnces  so 
fully  imputed  to  Christ,  as  to  be  accounted  his.  His 
righteousness  so  fully  iniputAl  to  us,  as  to  beaccoiuit- 
ed  our's.  In  him  we  are  rom^llete,  because  his  most 
olipdicnt  life,  and  his  all-atomng  death  are  ours.  We 
are  guiltless,  not  thro!i;;h  our  rrpenlancc,  or  refor- 
Uiati;i.i,  but  litcauoc  lie  has  dwd  for   us.       We  arc 


of  a  paragraph  eminent  for  its  dignity  and 
usefulness.  We  then  considered  a  fragment 
of  it  in  a  critical  view  ;  let  us  now  examine 
the  whole  of  it  with  a  devotional  spirit. 
Thus  examined,  I  trust  it  will  be  no  longer 
a  dry  bone,  but  a  feast  of  fat  things  full  of 
marrow.  Permit  me  to  propose  a  correct 
translation  of  the  original,  to  add  a  short  il- 
lustration of  the  meaning,  and  then  take  my 
leave  for  the  present. 

"  Look  unto  me  and  be  saved,  all  the  ends 
of  the  earth  j  for  I  am  God,  and  there  is 
none  else."  By  myself  have  I  sworn,  the 
word  of  righteousnessf  goeth  out  of  my 
mouth,  the  word  shall  not  return.  To  me 
every  knee  shall  bow,  and  every  tongue  shall 
swear,  saying,  surely  in  the  Lord  have  I 
righteousness!  and  strength.  To  him  shall 
men  come,  and  all  that  are  offended  in  him 
shall  be  ashamed.  In  the  Lord  shall  all  the 
seed  of  Israel  be  justified,  and  in  him  shall 
they  glory." 

Here  the  Son  of  God  presents  himself  in 
all  the  glories  of  his  person,  and  all  the  rich- 
*"s  of  his  grace  :  presents  himself  as  the  ob- 
ject of  faith,  and  the  author  of  salvation. 
To  be  received  by  sinners  without  any  re- 
commending qualities,  or  any  pre-eminence 
of  one  above  another.  But  hear  his  graci- 
ous words  : — 

"  Look  unto  me,"  wretched  ruirted  trans- 
gressors, as  the  wounded  Israelites  looked 
unto  the  brazen  serpent.  Look  unto  me 
dying  on  the  cross  as  your  victim,  and  obey- 
ing the  law  as  your  surety.  Not  by  doing, 
but  by  looking  and  believing  ;  not  by  your 
own  deeds,  but  by  my  works,  and  my  suf- 
ferings, "  be  ye  saved."  This  is  the  myste- 
rious, but  certain  way  of  salvation.  Thus 
shall  ye  be  delivered   from    guilt,    rescued 

from  hell,  and  reconciled  to   God Who 

are  invited  to  partake  of  this  inestimable  be- 
nefit ?  "  All  the  ends  of  the  earth."  Peo- 
ple of  every  nation  under  heaven  ;  of  every 
station  in  life  ;  of  every  condition  and  every 
character,  not  excepting  the  chiefest  of  sin- 
ners. 

Is  it  possible  that  the  obedience  of  one 
should  save  innumerable  millions  ?  It  is 
not  only  possible  but  indubitable.  "  For  I 
am  God,"  infinite  in  dignity  and  power; 


righteous,  not  on  account  of  any  graces  or  attain- 
ments of  our  own,  but  because  he  has  lived  for  us. 
To  these  truths  I  most  cordially  subscribe.  This  is 
that  good  old  wine  that  once  made  Mr.  Wesley's  heart 
glad.  He  has  since  tasted  new ;  but  I  hope  he  will 
be  brought  to  say,  "  The  old  is  better." 

*  Not  any  person,  nor  any  thing.  No  persnn  able 
to  lend  >in  helping  hand :  A'o  tlniig  capable  of  yield- 
ing the  least  assistance. 

t  "  The  word  of  righteousness,"  signifies,  if  not 
the  whole  gospel,  that  precious  doctrine  which  is  the 
gospel  in  epitome. 

t  Kii;liti;oii.'mes.9.  This  is  the  precise  signification 
of  the  original,  which  being  in  the  plural  lumibcr, 
sce^ns  to  denote  romplrtene.'is.  A  righteousness,  per- 
fect, entire,  and  lacking  nothing:  Having  every 
thing  necessary  for  our  pardon,  our  acceptance,  our 
evciksting  justification. 


490 


LETTERS   TO   THE 


therefore  nil  suflicient,  yea,  omnipotent  to 
save,  to  save  all  that  come  unto  me,  be  the 
multitudes  ever  so  great,  or  their  cases  ever 
so  desperate.  Is  nothing  to  be  done  by 
transgressors  themselves  ?  Are  no  condi- 
tions to  be  fulfilled  on  their  part  ?  None — 
"  there  is  nought  beside  me."  No  person 
can  take  any  share  in  this  great  transac- 
tion. Nothing  can  in  the  least  degree 
co-operate  with  my  merits.  Should  you  add 
to  my  obedience  and  death  all  that  saints 
have  performed,  and  martyrs  have  endured, 
it  would  be  like  adding  a  grain  to  the  sands 
of  the  ocean,  or  a  moment  to  the  days  of 
eternity. 

Such  is  my  compassionate  invitation,  and 
this  my  inviolable  decree-  "I  have  not  only 
spoken,  but  sworn  ;"  sworn  by  myself  and 
all  my  incomprehensible  excellencies.  "  The 
word  of  righteousness,"  that  which  relates 
to  the  grandest  of  all  subjects,  and  most  im- 
portant of  all  interests,  is  planned,  adjust- 
ed, and  unalterably  determined.  Now,  even 
now,  "  it  goes  out  of  my  mouth,"  is  declar- 
ed with  the  utmost  solemnity,  and  establish- 
ed by  veracity  itself.  The  word  shall  not 
return,  either  to  be  repealed  by  me,  or 
frustrated  by  any  other.  What  is  the  de- 
cree confirmed  by  this  most  awful  oath  ? 
We  are  all  attention  to  hear  it.  "  To  me 
every  knee  shall  bow."  Every  soul  of  man 
who  desires  to  inherit  eternal  life,  shall 
submit  to  my  righteousness,  and  as  an  un- 
worthy creature,  as  an  obnoxious  criminal, 
obtain  the  blessing  wholly  through  my 
atonement.  "  To  me  every  tongue  shall 
swear."  lie  man's  supposed  virtues, ever 
so  various,  or  ever  so  splendid,  all  shall  be 
disclaimed,  and  my  worthiness  alone  shall 
stand.  Renouncing  every  other  trust,  they 
shall  repose  the  confidence  of  their  souls  on 
me  alone,  and- make  public  confession  of 
this  their  faith  before  the  whole  world-  But 
we,  O  Lord,  are  ignorant,  we  cannot  order 
our  speech  by  reason  of  darkness.  This 
then  shall  be  the  form  of  your  oath,  such 
the  tenor  of  your  confession 

Surely — It  is  a  most  wonderful,  yet  a 
most  faithful  saying,  extremely  comfortable 
and  equally  certain.  Only — not  in  myself, 
not  in  a  poor  frail  creature,  but  in  the  in- 
carnate Jehovah  alone,  in  his  divinely  ex- 
cellent deeds,  and  unutterably  meritorious 
sufferings,  /  have  righteousness,  a  righte- 
ousness without  spot,  without  defect,  and 
in  all  respects  consummate  ;  such  as  satis- 
fies every  requirement  of  the  law,  and  most 
thoroughly  expiates  all  my  iniquities  ;  such 
as  renders  me  completely  accepted  before 
niy  jix^gCj  and  entitles  me  to  everlasting 
life.  From  the  joyful  knowledge,  the  per- 
sonal appropriation,  and  the  perpetual  im- 
provement of  this  inestimable  privilege,  1 
have  strength  for  my  sanctification.  Now 
do  I  indeed  delight  myself  in  the  Lord,  who, 


perfectly  reconciled,  and  infinitely  gracious, 
has  done  so  great  things  for  me  ;  now  do  1 
cordially  love  my  neighbour,  and  being  so 
happy  myself,  unfeignedly  long  for  his  eter- 
nal happiness,  that  he  may  be  a  partaker 
with  me  of  this  great  salvation. 

To  this  sovereign  decree  the  prophet  sets 
as  it  were  his  seal,  or  else  in  a  transport  of 
joy  he  foretells  the  accomplishment  of  it- 
Yes,  my  brethern,  to  him,  even  to  this  gra- 
cious Redeemer,  shaV  men  come.  I  see  them 
flying  as  clouds  for  multitude,  as  doves  for 
sjieed.  They  believe  the  report  of  his  gos- 
\>e\,  and  receive  of  his  fulness.  Whereas, 
aU  they  that  are  offended  in  him,  that  cannot 
away  with  his  doctrine,  which  pours  con- 
tempt upon  all  human  excellency,  and  will 
allow  no  righteousness  to  avail  but  that 
which  is  divine  ;  who  refuse  to  come  unto 
him,  poor  and  miserable,  and  stript  of  every 
recommendation  ;  all  they  shall  be  ashamed. 
The  fig-leaves  of  their  own  duties,  or  their 
own  endowments,  shall  neither  adorn  them 
for  glory,  nor  screen  them  from  wrath,  but 
shall  abandon  them  to  vengeance,  and  cover 
them  with  double  confusion.  While,  on 
the  other  hand,  all  the  seed  of  Israel,  every 
true  believer,  shall  be  justified  in  the  Lord. 
Against  those  persons  no  accusation  shall 
be  valid  ;  no  condemnation  shall  take  place. 
So  magnificent  is  the  majesty,  so  surpass- 
ingly efficacious  are  the  merits  of  their  Sa- 
viour, that  in  him  they  shall  not  only  con- 
fide, 6m/  glory  ;  not  only  be  safe,  but  triumph 
ant.  Clothed  with  his  incomparable  right- 
eousness, they  shall  challenge  every  adver- 
sary, and  defy  every  danger. 

To  this  portion  of  Scripture  I  have  led 
back  your  thoughts,  that  I  might  not  close 
with  any  disgusting  sentiments,  but  might 
leave  a  sweet  savour  on  your  mind,  on  the 
reader's  mind,  and  on  the  mind  of,  Rev- 
erend  Sir,  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  III. 

Reverend  Sia, — Let  me  now  lesume 
my  observations  on  your  epistle  ;  which  I 
do,  not  for  the  sake  of  disputing,  but  for 
the  cause  of  truth. 

The  gospel  contains  many  sublime  and 
glorious  truths.  But  there  is  one,  which, 
beyond  all  others,  characterises  its  nature, 
its  import,  and  design  ;  which  makes  it 
most  eminently  to  differ  from  every  other 
form  of  religion,  professed  or  known  in  the 
world  ; — I  mean  the  doctrine  of  free  justifi- 
cation, through  the  righteousness  of  Christ. 
This  is  to  the  religion  of  Jesus,  what  the 
particular  features  and  turns  of  counten- 
ance are  to  each  individual  person. 


REV.  AIR    WESLEY. 


4!)  I 


1  have  sometimes  amused  myself  with 
standing  by  a  painter,  and  ohservmg  him  at 
nis  work.  Here,  I  have  been  surprised  to 
see,  how  much  a  very  little  stroke  would 
alter  the  aspect  of  his  draught  ;  would  turn 
the  gay  into  a  melancholy,  or  the  comjjosed 
nito  a  frantic  countenance.  Several  of  Mr. 
Wesley's  touches  are  to  appearance  small  ; 
but,  I  fear,  they  will  be  found  to  disfigure, 
more  than  a  little,  the  heavenly  portrait  ; 
and  give  a  new,  not  the  native  air,  to  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  But  I  proceed  ;  my 
business  being  to  prove,  not  to  blame- 
Sinners  who  betake  themselves  to  the 
all-sufficient  Saviour  for  redemption,  are 
fully  accepted  by  God,  for  his  beloved  Son's 
sake.  "  This  is  Justification  through  im- 
puted righteousness,"  says  Aspasio  :  "  that 
remains  to  be  proved,"  answers  Mr.  Wes- 
ley. I  think  it  is  pretty  largely,  and  I 
would  hope,  it  is  satisfactorily  proved, 
througii  the  whole  book.  Nay,  I  find  Mr. 
Wesley  himself  ere  long  acknowledging, 
that,  "  as  to  the  doctrine  we  are  agreed." 
Either  therefore  you  have  received  the 
proof  which  you  demand,  or  else  you  can 
submit  without  conviction,  and  agree  with- 
out cause  of  agreement.  Not  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  such  slips,  I  would  rather  en- 
large upon  «liat  may  be  useful. 

I  would  ask  Mr.  Wesley,  in  what  other 
way  sinners  can  be  justified  or  accepted, 
save  only  through  imputed  righteousness  ? 
Through  their  own  good  deeds  and  holy 
tempers  ?  This  supposes  the  fruits  to  be 
good,  while  the  tree  is  corrupt ;  and  would 
make  salvation  to  be  of  works,  not  of  grace. 
Through  their  own  faith  standing  in  the 
law?  Then  they  are  justified  before  a  per- 
fect God,  by  an  imperfect  endowment ;  and 
life  eternal  is  obtained  by  the  exercises  of 
their  own  mind,  not  by  the  merits  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Are  they  justified  without  any 
righteousness,  either  wrought  by  themselves, 
or  received"  from  another?  This  is  an 
unworthy  thought :  this  were  an  insuffera- 
ble practice — Jehovah  himself  being  judge. 
"  He  that  justifieth  the  wicked  is  an  abom- 
ination.''f 

Say  not,  God  is  a  free  agent,  and  not 
bound  to  observe  his  own  law-  Say  ra- 
ther, the  rule  of  righteousness  revealed  in 
the  law,  is  his  most  steadfast  will,  unchange- 
able as  his  nature.  Consider  also  what 
this  law  requires  :    A  satisfaction  for  sin. 


•  "  They  who  receive  the  gift  of  righteousness." 
Rom.  V.  17. 

t  Prov.  xvii.  15.  This  is  an  invariable  maxim.  It 
is  that  word  of  God  which  endureth  for  ever.  Yet  it 
is  noobjection  to  his  method  of  justifying  the  ungod- 
ly. Because  he  first  imputes  his  Son's  righteousness 
unto  them  ;  theret)y  renders  them  truly  and  perfectly 
righteous ;  then  (ironounces  them  such  ;  and  as  such', 
receives  them  to  pardon,  to  favour,  and  eternal  life. 
Docs  not  the  text,  thus  considered,  afford  an  incon- 
testable argument  for  the  necessity  of  nn  inipute<l 
righteousness  / 


nut  defective,  but  completely  sufiicient ;  a 
|)erforniance  of  the  coinmand,  Jiot  sincere 
only,  but  absolutely  perfect.  Will  God.  in 
justifying  a  sinner,  disregard,  contradict, 
overthrow  his  own  law  ?  in  no  wise.  Since 
then  it  insists  upon  what  no  mortal  can 
yield,  must  not  all  flesh  perish  for  ever? 

This  would  be  the  unavoidable  conse- 
quence, if  matters  rested  upon  human  abili- 
ties. But  here  the  blessed  gospel  comes  to 
our  relief;  shewing  us,  that  God  in  his  im- 
mense mercy  and  unsearchable  wisdom,  has 
found  out  a  way,  at  once  to  satisfy  the  un- 
alterable law,  and  save  insolvent  man  ;  to 
justify  even  the  chief  of  sinners,  yet  with, 
out  the  least  violation  of  justice,  truth, 
or  holiness.  What  is  this  way  ?  his  own 
Son  accomplishes  the  great  work.  How  ?  I'y 
relaxing  the  precepts  of  the  law,  that  we 
may  perform  them  ?  By  disannulling  the 
sentence  of  the  law,  that  we  may  escape  it  ? 
Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  before 
any  such  dishonourable  expedient  takes 
place.  On  the  contrary,  he  gives  satisfac- 
tion to  the  sentence,  by  suffering  the  tie- 
mendous  punishment  denounced;  and  he 
fulfils  the  precept,  by  yielding  the  sinless 
obedience  required.  Because  this  was  to 
be  finished  iti  the  nature  which  had  trans- 
gressed, therefore  he  was  made  man  ;  be- 
cause this  was  to.be  truly,  or  rather  infin- 
itely meritorious,  therefore  the  man  was 
one  person  with  the  Godhead. 

Still  it  may  be  inquired,  how  the  obe- 
dience of  another  can  relieve  my  distress  ? 
How  indeed,  but  by  God's  transferring  my 
guilt  to  him,  and  imputing  his  obedience  to 
me.  By  this  method,  the  thing  is  clearly 
and  completely  effected.  In  this  method, 
I  see  a  propriety  and  an  efficacy  that  silence 
my  doubts,  and  comfort  my  heart.  Accor- 
dingly, it  is  written  in  the  Scriptures,  "  God 
was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  to  him- 
self, not  imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them." 
God ;  the  work  was  too  arduous  to  be  per- 
formed by  a  created  agent.  Therefore 
God  himself  icas  in  Christ.  None  less 
than  the  almighty  Lord  could  execute  the 
business.  But  if  he  undertake  it,  how  suc- 
cessfully must  it  be  carried  on,  and  how 
gloriously  finished  !  Rcconciliiuj  the  world; 
not  setting  poor  transgressors  to  reconcile 
themselves,  but  himself  contriving  all,  pro- 
viding all,  doing  and  suftering  all  that  was 
needful  for  this  great  purpose.  Being  him- 
self the  creditor,  the  sponsor,  and  payer  of 
the  debt,  how  was  all  this  brought  to  pass  ? 
By  not  imjmtim)  our  trespasses  unto  us ;  but 
taking  them  all  upon  himself;  bearing  them 
all,  in  his  own  body  upon  the  tree  ;  and 
sustaining  the  vengeance  due  to  all  our 
crimes.  Thus  was  the  Holy  One  and  the 
just  "  made  sin  for  us ;  that  we  (sinful  dust 
and  ashes.)  might  (in  the  very  same  man- 
ner)  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in 


492 


LETTERS  TO   THE 


bim."     The  former  could  be  only  by  impu- 
tation, and  so  only  can  be  the  latter. 

If  men  talk  of  being  accepted  for  Christ's 
sake,  yet  reject  the  imputation  of  righteous- 
ness, they  must  have  very  inadequate  no- 
tions concerning  the  relation  which  Christ 
bears  to  his  people,  and  the  nature  of  his 
mediatorial  undertaking.  Does  this  seem 
obscure  ?  I  explain  myself :  A  person  may 
conduct  himself  so  honourably  and  excel- 
lently, as,  on  account  of  his  worthy  deeds, 
to  obtain  favour  in  behalf  of  another ;  and 
this  without  being  his  surety,  or  any  thing 
like  his  proper  righteousness.  Witness  the 
famous  instance  of  the  two  brothers,  Amyn- 
tas  and  ^Eschylus.  The  former  was  a  gal- 
lant hero,  who  exposed  his  life,  and  lost  his 
arm,  in  defence  of  his  country  :  The  latter 
was  an  abandoned  and  infamous  profligate, 
whose  crimes  had  brought  him  to  the  bar 
of  public  justice.  The  hero,  on  the  day  of 
trial,  appeared  as  an  advocate  for  his  bro- 
ther. He  spoke  nothing,  but  only  lifted  up 
to  view  the  maimed  and  dismembered  arm. 
This  silent  oratory  struck  the  assembly,  and 
pleaded  so  powerfully  that  the  criminal  was 
unanimously  acquitted.  Here  was  an  ac- 
quittal of  one,  in  consideration  of  the  merits 
of  another;  but  then  the  obnoxious  party 
had  no  special  interest  in  those  merits. 
'I'hey  were  not  acquired  or  exercised  with  a 
particular  reference  to  his  good.  He  could 
not  say,  They  are  mine.  Neither  did  they 
make  him,  in  any  degree  or  in  any  sense, 
righteous.  Whereas,  the  reverse  of  all  this 
is  true  with  regard  to  Jesus  Christ  and  jus- 
tified sinners.  This  you  and  I,  Sir,  have 
asserted.  Let  us  never  retract  the  good 
confession.  Uut,  as  it  is  the  truth  of  the 
gospel,  let  us  still  and  for  ever  say, 

In  him  complete  we  shine ; 

Because 

Ours  is  rghteousness  divine. 

Theron,  speaking  of  the  terms  inherent 
and  imputed,  calls  them  nice  distinctions  and 
metaphysical  subtiities.  Mr.  Wesley  makes 
Aspasio  apply  the  depreciating  remark  to 
the  active  and  passive  righteousness  of  Christ. 
Whereas,  he  says  no  such  thing;  he  means 
no  such  thing.  He  is  treating  of  a  subject 
totally  different.  And  were  he  to  maintain 
such  a  sentiment,  every  one  must  observe, 
it  would  entirely  overthrow  his  whole 
scheme. 

"  You  oblige  us  to  make  use  of  metaphy- 
sical subtiities,  by  confounding  those  very 
different  ideas,  that  is,  Christ's  active  and 
passive  righteousness."  I  could  hardly  be- 
lieve my  eyes  for  some  time,  though  both 
of  them  attested  that  this  was  produced  as 
a  quotation  from  Aspasio.  In  which  place, 
and  for  a  considerable  space  before  and  af- 
ter, the  s*ibject  of  debate  is  the  difference 
between  inherent  and  imputed  righteousness. 


I  was,  I  own,  quite  vexed  to  see  Aspasio 
so  maltreated ;  his  discourse  so  misrepre- 
sented ;  and  so  little  regard  paid  to  literary 
justice.  And  glad  I  am,  that  I  did  not  give 
vent  to  my  thoughts  just  at  that  instant.  I 
might  have  been  too  warm,  and  not  have 
spared  the  rod.  But  upon  cooler  considera« 
tion  I  began  to  recover,  and  the  prescrip- 
tion of  Horace  was  of  service, 

Amara  lento  temperat  risu. 

I  began  to  call  your  conduct,  not  artifice 
or  slight  of  hand,  but  incogitancy  or  thought 
misapplied.  As  you  had  been  thinking  so 
long  upon  the  other  topic,  it  dwelt  upon  your 
imagination,  kept  this  from  your  attention, 
and  led  you  both  to  mistake  and  to  miscall 
things.  Like  a  certain  preacher,  who,  hav- 
ing lost  his  fortune  in  the  bubbles  of  the 
year  1719,  and  having  occasion  to  mention 
the  deliverance  of  the  Israelites  from  Egypt, 
told  his  audience,  that  Pharaoh  and  his  host 
were  all  drowned  in  the  South  Sea  !  Poor 
man  !    He  meant  the  Red  Sea. 

Mr.  Wesley  proceeds  :  "  We  do  not  con- 
found the  active  and  passive  righteousness." 
Does  Aspasio,  Sir  ?  he  that  considers  thera 
particularly  and  distinctly  ?  he  that  examines 
each  with  a  critical  and  minute  exactness  ? 
If  this  be  to  confound,  order  and  confusion 
have  changed  their  nature. 

"  Neither  do  we  separate  them."  It  is 
somewhat  difficult  to  understand  what  you 
mean  by  separating  the  active  and  passive 
righteousness  of  our  Lord.  Separating  them 
as  to  their  influence  ?  Then  you  must  be 
sensible  this  is  never  done  by  Aspasio. 
You  cannot  but  know,  that  he  disclaims 
such  a  refinement.  He  protests  against  .'*uch 
a  practice.  Do  you  mean,  treating  tlietr  as 
things  really  distinct,  though  always  unit'ng 
their  agency  ?  Then  I  am  at  a  loss  to  re- 
concile Mr.  Wesley  with  himself.  For  in 
the  very  next  paragraph  he  thus  expresses 
himself:  "  Through  the  merits  of  his  life 
and  death,  every  believer  is  justified."  Are 
not  the  merits  of  his  life  here  distinguished 
from  the  merits  of  his  death  ?  Does  not 
the  former  expression  denote  his  active,  the 
latter  his  passive  obedience  ?  Or  would  you 
be  understood  to  mean,  "  Through  the  me- 
rits of  his  life,  which  are  nothing  else  but 
the  merits  of  his  death  ?"  If  you  would  not 
speak  in  this  manner,  so  unworthy  of  your 
better  judgment,  you  do  the  very  thing  which 
you  blame.  This  is  done  st'll  more  hppa- 
rently  in  one  of  your  hymns,  where  we  see, 
not  only  a  separation,  but  a  distinct  use  and 
application  of  the  separated  subjects  : 

Grant  this,  O  Lord,  for  thou  hast  died 

That  I  might  be  forgiven  ; 
Thou  hast  the  righteousness  supplied. 

For  which  I  merit  heaven. 

I  could  easily  excuse  Mr.  W^esley  for  be- 
ing a  little  inconsistent  with  himself,  did  lie 
not  also  venture  to  confront  the  apostle  by 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


493 


the  followinp;  a=;sprtion  -.  "  Neither  have  we 
any  authority  from  Scripture,  for  cither 
thinking;  or  sjieiikiiig  of  one  separate  from 
the  other."  Does  not  St.  Paul  in  one  pas- 
sage speak  of  the  obedience,  in  another  of 
(he  deatli  of  Christ?  Does  he  not  in  one 
place  enlarge  upon  the  righteousness,  in 
another  upon  the  blood,  of  Christ  ?  If  so, 
we  have  an  authority  from  Scripture,  we 
have  the  example  of  the  chiefest  apostle,  for 
♦.his  way  of  thinking  and  speaking. 

We  have  also  a  concurrent  testimony 
from  the  genius  and  import  of  the  original 
language.  Do  not  wyruKon  and  iiKaioauvA 
signify  somewhat  different  from  ai/ix  and 
tavaro;  ?  Are  there  any  approved  writers 
who  use  these  words  promiscuously,  as  so 
many  synonymous  and  convertible  terms  ? 
If  not,  the  voice  of  grammar  will  vindicate 
the  propriety  of  our  conduct,  while  we  as- 
sign a  separate  discourse  to  each  subject, 
and  exljibit  them  severally  in  the  most  dis- 
tinct view. 

Are  not  light  and  heat  always  united  in 
the  sun  ?  Is  the  naturalist  to  blame  who 
considers  them  distinctly,  and  examines  each 
property  in  a  separate  treatise  ?  You  would 
commend  this  practice  in  the  philosopher,  as 
the  way  to  enter  thoroughly  into  the  know- 
ledge of  his  subject ;  and  why  should  you 
explode  or  censure  it  in  the  Christian  di- 
vine? Are  not  theological  truths  as  wor- 
thy of  a  circumstantial  and  accurate  investi- 
gation as  philosophical  ?  Will  they  not  as 
amply  reward  our  diligence,  and  yield  as 
rich  advantage  to  the  serious  inquirer  ? 

"  The  righteousness  which  justifies  sin- 
ners, is  always  wrought  out,"  says  Aspasio  : 
"  A  crude  unscriptural  expression,"  replies 
Mr.  Wesley.  It  may  be  so.  But  if  the 
expression  is  plain  and  true,  I  will  sit  down 
content.  This,  however,  you  will  allow  me 
to  observe,  that  it  is  no  new  one,  and  is  not 
far  from  scriptural.  Worketh  righteousness, 
you  know,  is  a  scriptural  phrase.  Does  the 
word  out  spoil  it,  or  the  word  already  ?  I 
suppose  the  latter  may  be  most  offensive. 
Yet  you  speak,  in  this  very  paragraph,  of 
being  "justified  by  the  merits  of  Christ's 
life  and  death."  Are  not  these  matters  al- 
ready transacted  ?  Is  not  the  merit  of  them 
already  perfect  ?  Or  can  any  language  ex- 
press these  things  more  clearly,  and  affirm 
them  more  strongly,  than  those  emphatical 
words  in  one  of  your  own  hymns  ? 

Let  us  for  this  faith  contend. 
Sure  salvation  is  its  end  : 
Heaven  uU-ciitiy  is  begun. 
Everlasting  life  is  won. 

Pardon  me,  then.  Sir,  if  I  still  suspect, 
that  the  doctrine  and  its  consequences,  ra- 
ther than  the  expression  and  its  crudity, 
awaken  your  jealousy.  If  this  doctrine  be 
admitted,  if  the  jiistifyinf;  ligliteoiisiicss  be 
already  wrought,  it  must  absolutely  overturn  | 


all  your  prerequisites,  qualifications,  tnd 
conditions — conditions  of  repentance,  obe- 
dience, and  I  know  not  what  besides.  We 
must  say  to  every  one  of  them,  as  Jehu  said 
to  the  messengers  of  Joram,  What  hast  thou 
to  do  with  the  grand  article  of  justification  ? 
Get  thee  behind  me.  Could  they  he  fulfill- 
ed, they  would  come  a  day  too  late  ;  like 
the  sickle,  when  the  harvest  is  reaped. 
Could  they  be  fulfilled  in  all  their  imagina- 
ry  dignity,  they  would,  in  this  relation,  be 
needless  ;  like  a  proposal  for  augmenting  the 
splendour  of  the  sun. 

"  The  righteousness  which  justifies  sin- 
ful man,  was  set  on  foot  when  God  sent 
forth  his  Son  from  the  habitation  of  his  ho- 
liness and  glory,  to  be  born  of  a  woman,  and 
made  subject  to  the  law :  It  was  carried  on 
through  the  whole  course  of  our  Saviour's 
life,  in  which  he  always  did  such  things  as 
were  pleasing  to  his  heavenly  Father :  It 
was  completed  at  that  ever- memorable,  that 
grand  period,  when  the  blessed  Immanuel 
bowed  his  dying  head,  and  cried  with  a 
strong  triumphant  voice.  It  is  finished." 
Upon  this  extract  from  Aspasio's  discourse, 
Mr.  Wesley  exclaims,  "  O  vain  philoso- 
phy !" — Philosophy  !  This  philosophy. 
Sir?  Never  did  I  hear,  till  this  moment, 
such  doctrines  ascribed  to  philosophy.  But 
this  I  have  heard,  and  this  I  believe,  that 
the  world,  even  the  learned  and  philosophic 
world,  by  their  boasted  wisdom  knew  not 
God,  nor  God's  method  of  salvation  by  the 
sufferings  of  an  innocent,  and  the  obedience 
of  a  divine  person.  Their  philosophy  pre- 
judiced them  against  it,  puffed  them  up  with 
a  vain  conceit  of  their  own  sufficiency,  and 
set  them  at  the  greatest  distance  from  sub- 
mitting to  the  righteousness  of  God. 

I  wish.  Sir,  you  would  shew-me  in  which 
of  the  philosophers  I  might  find  these  sacred 
sentiments  ;  or  a  grain,  or  a  spice,  or  a  savour 
of  them.  I  have  for  a  considerable  time 
laid  aside  my  Plato,  and  have  no  more  in- 
clination to  turn  over  my  Seneca  ;  because 
I  can  see  nothing  like  this  divinely  precious 
truth  adorning  and  enriching  their  pages. 
But  if  you  will  discover  this  golden  vein  in 
their  works,  I  will  immediately  renew  my 
acquaintance  with  them  ;  and  will  do  the 
philosophers  a  piece  of  justice  which  Mr. 
Wesley  denies  them  :  I  will  not  call  their 
philosophy  vain,  but  the  "  wisdom  of  God, 
and  the  power  of  God."  A  righteousness 
wrought  out,  and  a  redemption  obtained  for 
us  !  The  former  divine  !  The  latter  eternal! 
These,  rightly  understood,  make  us,  beyond 
all  the  treasures  of  literature,  wise.  These, 
habitually  enjoyed,  will,  more  effectually 
than  all  the  delineations  of  morality,  or  ex- 
hortations to  virtue,  render  us  holy. 

A  divine  righteousness  (pardon  mc  for 
dwelling  on  my  favourite  topic)  aliciuly 
wrought  !     A    great    redenijition    perfectly 


491 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


finished  !  And  this  by  the  abasement,  the 
ignominy,  the  indignities — by  the  cries,  the 
agonies,  the  blood  of  our  Saviour ;  yea,  of 
our  God,  "  in  fashion  as  a  man !"  in  the  form 
of  a  servant,  a  slave,  an  execrable  malefac- 
tor! What  like  this  did  a  thousand  philoso- 
phers teach  ?  What  like  this  do  a  thousand 
of  their  volumes  contain,  to  stab  our  pride, 
to  tame  our  fury,  and  to  quench  our  lust ;  to 
kindle  our  benevolence,  to  inflame  our  devo- 
tion ;  to  make  us,  in  a  word,  "  wise  unto 
salvation  ?" 

"  The  plain  truth  is,  Christ  lived  and 
tasted  death  for  ever  man."  "  To  be  sure, 
then,  since  every  man  is  not  saved  by  him, 
he  lived  and  died  only  to  make  their  salva- 
tion possible."  From  this,  and  other  hints, 
I  guess  your  opinion  to  be,  that  Christ,  by 
his  life  and  death,  obtained  only  a  possibi- 
lity of  salvation ;  which  salvation  is  to  be- 
come our  own,  upon  performing  terms  and 
conditions,  bringing  with  us  prerequisites 
and  qualifications.  If  I  mistake  you,  Sir,  in 
this  case,  you  have  nothing  more  to  do,  than 
simply  to  deny  my  supposition.  This  ex- 
culpates you  at  once.  I  shall  rejoice  to 
hear  you  say,  as  Christ  made  us,  and  not 
we  ourselves  ;  in  like  manner  he  saves  us, 
and  not  we  ourselves.  No  human  endow- 
ments, no  human  performances,  but  Christ 
alone,  is  the  author  of  eternal  salvation. 

Should  you  reply.  True,  Christ  is  the  au- 
thor of  eternal  salvation,  but  to  those  only 
who  obey  Him  :  I  must  then  ask,  what  obe- 
dience Christ  requires  ?  the  law  says.  Do, 
and  live.  Christ,  the  end  of  the  law,  says. 
Believe  in  me,  and  live.  Be  verily  persuad- 
ed, that  I  am  sufficient  for  thy  salvation, 
without  any  working  of  thine  at  all.  Is  not 
the  Son,  the  Son  of  the  most  high  God, 
given  unto  thee  in  the  divine  record  ?  Be 
satisfied  with  his  doing  and  suffering,  with- 
outwishing  for  or  thinking  of  any  thing  more, 
to  procure  thy  final  acceptance — Let  no 
one  account  lightly  of  this  obedience.  It  is 
the  obedience  of  faith  ;  the  obedience  suit- 
ed to  the  name  of  Jesus  ;  obedience  to  the 
first  and  great  command  of  the  gospel.  Be- 
yond all  other  expedients,  it  excludes  boast- 
ing ;  and  at  the  same  time  produces  that 
genuine  love,  that  filial  fear,  which  the  law 
of  works  requires  in  vain. 

Only  to  make  a  thing  possible,  and  to 
effect  it,  are  widely  different.  When  our 
king  fits  out  a  fleet,  and  gives  his  admiral  a 
commission  to  harass  the  French  coasts,  and 
destroy  the  French  shipping,  he  makes  the 
thing  possible  ;  but  to  carry  the  design  into 
execution,  to  accomplish  the  enterprise  now 
become  practicable,  is  a  far  more  arduous  task, 
and  a  fur  more  honourable  achievement. 
How  strangely  do  those  writers  derogate 
from  the  dignity  .md  glory  of  the  Redeemer, 
who  would  ascribe  to  him  what  corresponds 


with  the  former,  and  attribute  to  man  what 
bears  a  resemblance  to  the  latter  ! 

If  Christ  only  made  our  salvation  pos- 
sible, then  we  are  to  execute  the  plan  ;  we 
are  to  face  the  enemy,  to  sustain  the  charge, 
and  silence  the  battery  ;  we  are  to  climb  the 
steep,  to  enter  the  breach,  and  bring  off  the 
standards ;  and  so,  in  all  reason,  the  hon- 
our and  praise  must  be  our  own.  Whereas, 
the  gospel  gives  all  the  honour  to  the  Captain 
of  our  Salvation  :  He  bore  the  heat  and 
burden  of  the  dreadful  day  :  He  made  recon- 
ciliation for  iniquity,  and  brought  in  ever- 
lasting righteousness  :  So  that  all  our  offi- 
cious attempts,  like  a  pinnace  arriving  after 
the  victory,  should  be  told,  '  it  is  finished  ;' 
the  great  salvation  is  already  wrought.  And 
instead  of  being  dissatisfied  or  disappointed, 
methinks  we  should  rejoice,  unfeignedly  re- 
joice, in  the  accomplishment  of  the  glorious 
work. 

If  it  should  occur  to  the  reader's  mind, 
that  the  Christian  life  is  represented  as  a 
warfare ;  and  that  we  ourselves  are  com- 
manded to  fight,  though  under  the  banner 
of  our  divine  Leader  :  To  this  doubt  I 
would  answer,  the  Canaanite  is  still  in  tha 
land  ;  and  we  fight,  not  to  gam  the  country, 
but  only  to  subdue  the  rebels. 

"  Whoever  perverts  so  glorious  a  doc- 
trine, shows  he  never  believed.''  This  may 
be  the  substance  of  what  Aspasio  main- 
tains, though  not  represented  so  fully  or  so 
clearly  as  he  has  expressed  himself;  how- 
ever, such  a  small  wrong  we  will  readily  ex-, 
cnse.  It  was  done  with  no  sinister  inten- 
tion, but  for  the  sake  of  brevity. 

To  this  position  Mr.  Wesley  replies. 
Not  so  ;  that  is,  they  did  really  and  truly 
believe ;  but  after  their  belief,  they  aposta- 
tized and  fell  from  the  faith  :  They  were 
some  time  the  members  of  Christ,  and  tem- 
ples of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  but,  quickly  sev- 
ered from  their  divine  head,  they  became 
the  slaves  of  the  devil,  and  brands  for  the 
everlasting  burning  :  Their  names  were  in- 
deed written  in  heaven ;  but  it  seems  the 
heavenly  records  were  less  faithful  than  the 
parish  register  :  They  were  quickly  erased, 
and  their  place  in  the  book  of  life  knew 
them  no  more.  Or  thus  :  They  did  as  real- 
ly and  truly  believe,  as  those  who  are  now 
in  the  mansions  of  glory ;  but,  after  their 
true  knowledge  of  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus ;  after  their  full  conviction  of  his 
sufficiency  and  faithfulness  for  their  salva- 
tion, even  such  as  inclined  and  enabled 
them  to  put  their  trust  in  him  alone,  for 
their  acceptance  with  God,  they  were  dis- 
appointed. Though  Christ  called  them  his 
sheep,  as  thus  hearing  his  voice,  yet  he  did 
not  give  unto  them  eternal  life  according  to 
his  promise,  but  suffered  Satan  to  pluck  them 
out  of  his  hand. 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


495 


These  sentiments  have  no  very  probable, 
much  less  have  they  a  pleasing  or  recom- 
mending aspect.  Let  us  inquire  whether 
thoy  comport  with  St-  John's  determina- 
tion of  the  case.  Speaking  of  such  back- 
sliders, he  says  "  They  went  out  from  us, 
hut  they  were  not  of  us."  Mr.  Wesley,  to 
be  consistent  with  himself,  should  say  on 
this  occasion,  Not  so  ;  they  were  of  you, 
but  they  fell  away  from  you.  The  apostle 
proceeds,  "  For  if  they  had  been  of  us,  no 
doubt  they  would  have  continued  with  us." 
Had  they  been  really  converted,  they  would 
irio.st  undoubtedly  have  contitmed  in  our 
doctrine  and  fellowship.  Their  revolt  from 
our  dudrine  is  a  manifest  proof  that  they 
never  tiuly  received  it,  nor  with  their  heart 
believed  it.  Their  departure  from  onr  fel- 
lowship, is  an  evident  indication  that  they 
were,  notwithstanding  all  their  professions, 
still  carnal,  and  never  renewed  by  grace. 

Mr.  Wesley  produces  a  text  from  St- 
Peter,  with  a  view  to  support  his  objection. 
They  who  "  turn  back  as  a  dog  to  his  vo- 
mit, had  once  escaped  the  pollutions  of  the 
world  through  the  knowledge  of  Christ." 
Here  and  elsewhere  I  perceive  the  cannon 
roar,  but  without  feeling  the  ball.  Before 
this  piece  of  sacred  artillery  can  be  brought 
to  bear  upon  us,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
prove,  that  the  knowledge  of  Christ,  or  even 
believing  in  Christ,  always  signifies  true 
faith.  In  some  places  it  certainly  does  ;  in 
other  places,  it  signifies  no  such  thing. 
"  Though  I  have  all  knowledge,  says  the 
apostle,  yet  even  with  this  specious  endow- 
ment 1  may  be  nothing."  There  is  a  know- 
ledge, says  the  same  author,  which,  instead 
of  edifying,  or  establishing  the  soul  in  godli- 
ness, puffeth  up  with  pride.  We  are  like- 
wise assured,  that  Simon  the  sorcerer, 
though  in  the  gall  of  bitterness  and  the  bond 
of  iniquity,  yet  had  "  knowledge  of  the 
things  which  concern  the  kingdom  of 
God,  and  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ ;"  nay, 
til  it  he  also  believed,  yet  had  neither  lot 
nor  portion  in  the  inestimable  blessing. 

Let  us  attend  to  the  apostle's  manner, 
ami  we  shall  be  led  to  put  the  same  inter- 
])ietation  upon  the  phrase,  as  it  is  used  in 
the  passage  before  us.  These  people  are 
not  described  like  the  true  believers  to  whom 
he  addresses  the  epistle.  Here  is  no  mention 
of  their  being  "  partakers  of  a  divine  na- 
ture ;  of  being  born  again  by  the  incorrupt- 
ilile  seed  ;  or  of  having  their  souls  purified 
by  the  Spirit."  They  are  oidy  said  to  have 
"  escaped  the  pollutions  of  the  world." 
Again,  the  word  ex[)ressive  of  these  pollu- 
tions is  fi.ntiifjt,a.Ta.,  which  denotes  the  gross- 
est excesses,  and  most  scandalous  iniquities. 
Consequently,  their   abstaining   from    such 


strained  only,  not  subdued.  Therefore  the 
unhappy  wretches  were  easily  overcome  by 
their  old  corruptions.  It  is  farther  ob- 
servable, that  St.  Peter  never  considers 
these  persons  as  new  creatures.  He  calls 
them  by  no  other  name  than  the  dog  and 
the  sow.  Such  they  were  at  first ;  no  bet- 
ter, under  all  their  profession  of  Christiani- 
ity  ;  and  no  other,  even  in  their  foulest  re- 
lapses. When  they  returned  again  to  their 
vomit,  or  other  filthy  practices,  they  return- 
ed to  their  own. 

There  is,  then,  a  knowledge  of  Christ, 
which  is  only  superficial  and  notional,  floats 
idly  on  the  understanding,  but  neither  pene- 
trates nor  sanctifies  the  heart.  There  is  also 
a  knowledge  of  Christ,  which  is  wrought  out 
by  the  Spirit,  and  ingrafted  into  the  soul  ; 
which  receives  the  gift  of  righteousness,  and 
brings  justification  into  the  conscience  : 
the  comfort  and  joy  of  which  mortify  the 
love  of  sin,  and  produce  the  life  of  holiness. 
This  knowledge.  Sir,  may  you  and  1  teach  ; 
in  this  knowledge  may  our  hearers  and  read- 
ers abound  ;  and  may  the  divine  power 
give  us,  by  means  of  this  knowledge,  all 
things  pertaining  to  life  and  godliness. 

"  The  goodness  of  God  leadeth  to  re- 
pentance." "  This  is  unquestionably  true  ;" 
says  Mr.  Wesley ;  "  but  the  nice  metaphy- 
sical doctrine  of  imputed  righteousness—." 
Should  you  not  rather  have  said,  the  nice 
metaphysical  phrase  ?  since,  as  to  the  doc- 
trine, we  are,  according  to  your  own  con- 
fession, agreed  ;  bound,  therefore,  each  of 
us  equally  bound,  to  clear  it  of  the  conse- 
quences with  which  it  may  be  charged  by 
the  author  of  the  Preservative,  or  any 
other  objector.  And  as  to  the  phrase,  I 
cannot  understand  by  what  authority  Mr. 
Wesley  calls  it  metnphi/sical.  Theron,  it  is 
true,  uses  the  word,  and  applies  it  to  the 
present  subject ;  but  does  not  Mr.  Wesley 
know,  that  Theron  often  personates  an  ene- 
my, and  speaks  the  language  of  unbelief? — 
Be  pleased.  Sir,  to  explain  your  term,  and 
show  in  what  sense  it  is  compatible  with 
this  article  of  my  faith  :  "  I  am  acquitted 
and  counted  righteous  before  God,  oidy 
through  the  imputation  of  my  Saviour's  obe- 
dience and  death  ;"  which  is,  both  in  style 
and  sentiment,  truly  evangelical,  but  in  no 
degree,  that  I  can  discern,  metaphysical. 

When  Mr.  Wesley  adds,  "  This  leads 
not  to  repentance,  but  to  licentiousness," 
he  speaks  what  we  understand,  not  what 
we  allow.  Will  any  one  say,  that  specula- 
tive reasoning  upon  the  goodness  of  God, 
or  contemplating  it  barely  in  our  ideas, 
leadeth  to  repentance ;  but  when  we  taste 
aiul  enjoy,  when  we  apply  and  appropriate, 
his  profusely  rich  liberality  in  Christ,  we  are 


abominations  implies  no  more  than  what  is   thereby    prompted   to  neglect,   abuse,    and 


called  a  negative  goodness,  or  a  mere  exter- 
nal reformatio:!.     Their  lusts  had  been  rc- 


dishononr  our  great  benefactor  ?     Or  shall 
it  be  said,  the  divine  goodness,  manifested 


496 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


in  common  providence  and  inferior  instan- 
ces, tends  to  awaken  love  and  work  godli- 
ness; but  the  same  divine  goodness,  shin- 
ing forth  in  the  most  illustrious  manifesta- 
tion that  men  or  angels  ever  knew  ;  shilling 
forth  with  a  glory,  a  richness,  a  perfection, 
sufficient  to  transport  heaven  and  earth  with 
joy  unspeakable — this  goodness  tends  to  ex- 
cite contempt  of  God,  and  to  cherish  carnal 
indulgence  ?  Such  an  insinuation,  so  de- 
preciatory to  the  righteousness  of  the  bless- 
ed Jesus,  I  had  much  rather  have  heard  in 
a  Jewish  synagogue,  than  have  seen  in  Mr. 
Wesley's  writings- 
No,  Sir,  this  and  this  alone,  leadeth  a  sin- 
ner to  repentance.  Not  all  the  munificence 
of  the  Deity,  neither  the  rain  from  heaven, 
nor  fruitful  seasons,  neither  the  fatness  of 
the  earth  nor*the  abundance  of  the  seas,  can 
take  away  the  enmity  of  our  nature,  and  re- 
concile our  affections  to  God.  Nothing, 
nothing  but  a  sense  of  pardon  and  accept- 
ance, through  the  work  finished  on  Imman- 
uel's  cross.  If  you  please  to  review  the 
text,  you  will  not  affirm  that  the  apostle  is 
asserting  the  efficacious  influence  of  provi- 
dential goodness  on  the  hearts  of  men.  He 
is  evidently  inveighing  against  the  gross  and 
almost  general  abuse  of  such  bounty. 
Though  it  ought,  it  does  not  produce  grati- 
tude and  duty.  It  would  indeed  upon  up- 
right, but  it  does  not  thus  operate  upon  de- 
praved minds.  No  cause  is  adequate  to 
this  efl'ect,  but  free  justification  through 
Jesus  Christ. 

"  The  believer  cannot  but  add  to  his 
faith,  works  of  righteousness."  "  During 
his  first  love,"  says  Mr.  Wesley,  "this  is 
often  true  ;  but  it  is  not  true  afterwards,  as 
we  know  and  feel  by  melancholy  experience." 
How,  Sir  !  Do  you  yourself  feel  this  ? 
Where,  then,  is  your  sinless  perfection  ? 
Can  they  be  perfect  whose  love  ceases  to 
glow,  and  whose  zeal  loses  its  activity  ? 
Does  Mr.  Wesley  himself  make  this  con- 
fession ?  Let  him  then  say  with  us,  and  let 
us  say  with  invariable  steadfastness,  and 
with  increasing  gratitude.  Blessed  be  God 
for  perfection  in  Jesus  Christ- 
Do  you  learn.  Sir,  what  is  here  acknow- 
ledged, by  observations  made  upon  others  ? 
Then  those  others,  I  apprehend,  if  they  do 
not  exercise  themselves  in  good  works,  ei- 
ther have  no  faith,  and  deceive  both  you 
and  themselves  ;  or  else  they  intermit  and 
discontinue  the  exertion  of  their  faith  ; 
Ivhich  neither  detracts  from  the  efficacy  of 
the  principle,  nor  disproves  Aspasio's  opin- 
ion. It  is  not  said  the  believer  never  trips 
nor  faulters  in  the  course  of  his  obedience  ; 
but  he  always  adds  to  his  faith  the  duties 
and  works  of  obedience.  Whenever  the 
former  acts,  the  latter  constantly  ensue. 
So  long  as  we  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son 
of  God,  we  shall  not  fail  to  bring  forth  those 


fruits  of  righteousness  which  are  through 
Jesus  Christ. 

This  is  strongly  maintained  by  Aspasio 
in  another  place  •.  "  It  is  as  impossible  for 
the  sun  to  be  in  his  meridian  height,  and 
not  dissipate  darkness,  or  diffuse  light,  as 
for  faith  to  exist  in  the  soul,  and  not  exalt 
the  temper  and  meliorate  the  conduct." 
This  is  very  forcibly  implied  in  our  Lord's 
interrogation  to  his  disciples.  Where  is  your 
faith?  It  must  be  dormant  and  inactive, 
like  the  sap  of  the  trees  in  winter,  or  like 
the  faculty  of  reasoning  in  sleep ;  other- 
wise, it  would  banish  your  fears,  even  amidst 
the  raging  storm,  and  produce  an  undaunt- 
ed confidence  in  God  your  Saviour,  The 
design  of  all  this  is,  to  evince  the  wisdom 
of  the  gospel,  which  lays  such  a  stress  upon 
faith ;  so  frequently  urges  the  necessity  ot 
faith,  above  and  before  all  things ;  repre- 
senting it  as  the  principal  work  of  the  divine 
Spirit,  and  the  great  instrument  of  receiving 
salvation.  Hence  it  appears  that  the  sa 
cred  plan  is  not  formed  in  vain  j  much  less 
is  it  calculated  to  suppress  or  discourage 
real  holiness. 

"  We  no  longer  obey,  in  order  to  lay  the 
foundation  for  our  final  acceptance  : "  These 
words  I  read  with  pleasure. — "  That  foun- 
dation is  already  laid  in  the  merits  of  Christ :" 
These  I  contemplate  with  still  greatei-  sa- 
tisfaction. But  when  1  come  to  the  fol- 
lowing clause,  "  Yet  we  obey,  in  order  to 
our  final  acceptance  through  his  merits," 
with  disappointment  and  regret  I  cry,  How 
is  the  gold  become  dim  !  how  is  the  most 
fine  gold  changed ! 

A  foundation,  for  what  ?  Aspasio  would 
reply.  For  pardon,  for  reconciliation,  and  for 
everlasting  salvation  ;  for  peace  of  con- 
science, for  access  to  God,  for  every  spi- 
ritual and  eternal  blessing.  A  foundation, 
of  what  kind?  In  all  respects  perfect ;  in- 
capable of  any  augmentation ;  not  to  be 
strengthened,  enlarged,  or  improved  by  all 
the  duties  and  all  the  deeds  of  prophets, 
apostles,  martyrs ;  because  it  has  omnipo- 
tence for  its  establishment.  A  foundation, 
for  whom  ?  For  sinners  ;  for  the  vilest  and 
most  miserable  of  sinners ;  that  all  guilty 
and  undone  wretches  may  come,  and  though 
ever  so  weary,  ever  so  heavy  laden,  may 
cast  their  burden  upon  this  Rock  of  ages, 
in  full  assurance  of  finding  rest,  and  obtain- 
ing safety. 

This  is  cheering ;  this  is  charming.  What 
pity  it  is  that  such  an  illustrious  truth  should 
be  clouded,  such  a  precious  privilege  spoil- 
ed, by  that  ungracious  sentence,  "  We  obey 
in  order  to  our  final  acceptance  !"  But  is 
this.  Sir,  your  constant  profession?  I  must 
do  you  the  justice  to  own,  that  you  have 
happier  moments,  and  more  becoming  ap- 
prehension?. When  you  join  in  public  wor- 
ship, this  is  your  humble  and  just  acknow- 


REV.   MR.    WESLEY. 


497 


lodgment,  "Although  we  be  unworthy  heavenly  voice  which  said,  with  so  nnuch  so- 
through  our  manifold  sins  to  offer  unto  thee  lemnity,  "  in  him  I  am  well  "pleased"' with 
any  sacrifice;  yet  we  beseech  thee  to  accept-  the  children  of  men  ?     Does  this  exalt,  does 


this  our  bounden  duty  and  service."  When 
you  criticise  upon  Aspasio,  the  note  is 
changed,  and  this  is  the  purport  of  your 
strain,  "  We  beseech  thee  to  accept  us  on 
account  of  these  our  services,  for  we  do 
fhem,  O  Lord,  with  a  professed  view  to 
this  end."  To  implore  acceptance  for  our 
duties,  confesses  them  to  be  mean  and 
contemptible;  whereas,  to  expect  accep- 
tance  on  their  account,  strongly  intimates 
their  excellency;  that  they  are  worthy  in  a 
very  high  degree,  so  as  to  obtain  favour,  not 
for  themselves  only,  but  for  a  miserable 
creature  also,  who  confesses  himself  subject 
to  manifold  sins. 

I  said,  "  on  account  of;"  for  if  you  obey 
in  order  to  your  final  acceptance,  surely  you 
must  expect  final  acceptance  and  eternal  life 
on  account  of  your  own  obedience.  A  poor 
olrject"  displays  his  sores,  and  relates  his 
distress,  in  order  to  obtain  your  alms  :  Does 
he  not  then  expect  your  alms  on  account  of 
his  sores,  his  distress,  and  his  piteous  tale  ? 
What  a  coalition  is  here  between  Mr.  Wes- 
ley and  the  subjects  of  the  triple  crown  !  1 
find  the  whole  council  of  Trent  establish- 
ing his  sentiments  by  their  anathematizing 
decree.  These  are  their  words  :  "  If  any 
one  shall  say  that  the  righteous  ought  not 
for  their  own  good  works  to  expect  the  eter- 
nal reward  through  the  merits  of  Jesus 
Christ,  let  him  be  accursed,"  De  Bun.  Oper. 
Ca7i.  xxvi.  Do  you  speak  of  the  merit  of 
Christ  ?  So  do  they.  Do  you,  in  some 
sense,  allow  Christ  to  be  the  foundation  ? 
So  do  they.  Are  your  works  to  rear  the 
edifice,  and  perform  the  most  respectable 
part  of  the  business  ?  So  are  theirs. 

By  this  time,  I  believe,  the  thoughtful 
reader  will  guess  the  reason  why  you  oppose 
and  decry  imputed  righteousness.  You  are 
s()licitous,  it  seems,  not  barely  for  works  of 
obedience,  but  for  their  value  and  credit  in 
the  affair  of  salvation  ;  for  their  significancy 
;ind  intlucnce  in  winning  the  good  will  of 
.Fehovah.  Since  this  is  your  notion,  you 
may  well  be  offended  at  Christ's  imputed 
righteousness.  This  will  admit  of  no  part- 
(lei-  or  coadjutor.  This,  Sir,  in  the  case  of 
ustification,  pours  contempt  upon  all  your 
most  laborious  exercises,  and  admired  at- 
tainments. Yea,  this  being  divine  and  in- 
conceivably excellent,  pours  all  around  a 
l)laze  of  glory,  in  which  all  our  puny  doings 
are  lost,  as  the  stars  in  the  meridian  sun- 
shine. 

"  We  obey  in  order  to  our  final  accep- 
tance." Methinks  this  discovers  no  more 
gratitude  than  wisdom.  Is  it  not  an  oflici- 
ous  indignity  to  that  noble  goodness  which 
has  set  forth  Jesus  CIn'ist  for  a  propitiation? 
Is  it  not  a  contemjituous  disregard  of  that 


it  not  degrade,  the  Saviour?  Does  it  mor- 
tify, does  it  not  cherish,  the  pride  of  man  ? 
According  to  this  scheme,  the  merits  ot  our 
Lord  are  the  foundation,  not  immediately  of 
our  acceptance,  but  of  that  situation  only  in 
which  we  are  supposed  capable  of  acquiring 
it  ourselves.  They  are,  in  short,  no  more  ' 
than  a  mere  pedestal,  on  which  human  wortli> 
or  rather  human  vanity,  may  stand  exalted, 
and  challenge  the  favour  of  Heaven. 

Ah,  Sir !  Acceptance  with  God  is  an 
immensely  rich  and  glorious  blessing  ;  a  high 
and  transcendently  precious  privilege  :  in- 
comparably too  high  and  glorious  to  be  ob- 
tained, in  any  degree,  by  such  mean  obedi- 
ence as  yours  and  mine.  The  pardon  of 
rebels  against  the  King  of  kings  !  The  re- 
ception of  leprous  sinners  into  the  bosom  of 
heaven  !  Shall  such  effects — than  which 
nothing  can  be  greater ;  shall  such  benefit? 
— than  which  nothing  can  be  richer — be 
ascribed  to  human  obedience  ?  What  but 
the  very  distraction  of  our  disease  can  have 
occasioned,  or  can  account  for,  a  thought 
so  extreme  in  absurdity  ?  [Shall  we,  sor- 
did wretches,  with  our  ulcerous  sores, 
our  withered  limbs,  and  a  stupor  over  all 
our  faculties  ;  shall  we  think  ourselves  able 
to  do  something  for  him  who  needeth  not 
the  service  of  angels  ?  Nay,  to  do  some- 
thing considerable  enough  to  found  a  claim 
to  that  transcendent  honour  and  happiness, 
the  light  of  his  countenance  ?]  Our  adora- 
tion !  Our  thanksgivings  !  Our  praises  ! 
Our  prayers  !  Our  preaching !  Our  sa- 
cramental duties  !  What  are  they  all  but 
filthy  rags,  Isa.  Ixiv.  6,  compared  with  his 
inconceivable  holiness  and  glory?  What 
part  of  his  work  do  we  attempt,  but  we  de- 
base it  with  our  deplorable  imperfections,  or 
pollute  it  with  our  very  touch  ? — Shame 
then  belongs  to  us,  shame  and  confusion  of 
face,  whenever  we  look  to  ourselves  or  our 
own  performances ;  while  all  our  comfort, 
all  our  hope,  is  to  be  derived  from  the  only 
righteous  one,  Christ  Jesus. 

If  we  know  not  enough  of  our  own  mean- 
ness and  impotency,  let  us  listen  to  the 
prophet,  Isaiah  xl.  15,  16,  17.  In  order 
to  our  acceptance  with  God,  he  informs  us, 
Lebanon  with  all  her  stately  cedars  is  not 
sufficient  to  burn,  nor  all  the  beasts  that 
range  through  her  extensive  shades,  suffi- 
cient for  a  burnt-offering.  Nations,  whole 
nations,  avail  no  more  than  single  persons. 
Should  they  unite  their  abilities,  and  exert 
ail  their  efforts,  to  do  something  which  may 
recommend  them  to  Jehovah ;  all  would  be 
mean,  ineffectual,  des})icable.  Mean,  as  the 
drop  of  a  bucket,  which  falls  to  the  ground, 
and  none  regards  it.  Ineffectual  as  llic  dust 
upon  the  balance,  which  wants  even  that 
2  K 


4m 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


sm:ill  degree  of  impetus  necessary  to  turn 
the  most  nicely  poised  scales  ;  despicable  as 
the  atom  that  floats  in  the  air,  and  has  not 
weight  enough  to  settle  itself  on  any  object. 
Should  you  reply,  In  all  these  things  there  is 
some,  though  very  little  substance :  the 
prophet  farther  declares,  that  all  nations 
in  the  world,  with  all  their  virtues,  accom- 
plishments, and  works,  would  before  the 
infinitely  majestic  God  be  as  nothing,  less 
than  nothing,  yea,  vanity  itself ;  incapable, 
absolutely  incapable  of  winning  his  favour, 
or  doing  any  thing  worthy  of  his  notice. 
Blessed,  therefore,  for  ever  blessed  be  di- 
vine grace,  that  we  have  a  great  High-priest, 
in  whom  God  is  pleased,  is  well  pleased, 
and  his  very  soul  delighteth  ;  whose  sacri- 
fice and  whose  w-ork  have  merited  nil  the 
good  that  sinners  can  want,  or  the  Almigh- 
ty can  bestow. 

If  we  are  not  yet  duly  humbled,  nor  will- 
ing to  profess  ourselves  beholden  to  divine 
grace  alone  ;  if  we  still  resolve  to  be  princi- 
pals or  partners  with  the  one  Mediator  in 
the  purchase  of  the  inestimable  jewel,  let 
us  fear,  lest  the  Lord  our  righteousness  re- 
sent such  a  dishonour  done  to  himself,  and 
swear  in  his  wrath,  that  we  shall  have  neither 
lot  nor  portion  in  this  matter.  Of  this  he 
has  expressly  warned  us  by  his  apostle  ;  "  If 
ye  be  circumcised,  Christ  shall  profit  you 
nothing."  What  would  St  Paul  teach  us 
by  this  solemn  protestation  ?  that  no  Jew 
can  be  saved  ?  himself  was  an  Hebrew  of 
the  Hebrews,  circumcised  the  eighth  day. 
That  a  Christian  would,  by  receiving  cir- 
cumcision after  his  conversion  to  Christ, 
forfeit  all  his  orivileges  ?  No;  for  he  him- 
self circumcised  Timothy,  to  gain  him  a  fair 
hearing  from  the  judaizing  bigots.  Or  is 
cirumcision  here  used  by  way  of  synecdoche 
for  the  ceremonial  law ;  teaching  us,  that  as 
the  Mosaic  rites  were  now  abolished,  an  at- 
tempt to  continue  the  observance  of  tliem 
would  be  an  unpardonable  opposition  to  the 
designs  of  pi'ovidence  ?  The  charitable  com- 
promise, recorded  in  the  xivth  to  the  Ko- 
mans,  leads  to  a  different  conclusion.  Or 
did  those  seducing  teachers,  who  required 
this  conformity  from  the  Gentile  converts, 
require  them  to  renounce  Christ,  and  re- 
lapse into  mere  Judaism  ?  Neither  is  this  at 
all  supposable.  They  only  required  such  a 
conformity,  "in  order  to  their  acceptance 
through  his  merits  ;"  which  they  never  re- 
jected, but  only  placed  as  a  foundation  for 
their  own. 

What  then  can  be  meant  by,  "  Christ 
shall  profit  you  nothing,  if  ye  be  circumcis- 
ed ?"  If  ye  muke  circumcision,  or  any  thing 
whatever  besides  the  righteousness  of  Christ, 
necessary  to  your  acceptance  with  God,  ye 
shall  receive  no  advantage  from  all  that  the 
Redeemer  has  done  or  suffered  ?  This  is  to 
Lirlt   between   works   and  grace,    between 


Christ  and  self:  and  .such  divided  regard 
he  will  interpret  as  an  affront  rather  than  an 
acce])tiil)le  homage.  Indeed,  this  is  in 
Christians  the  grand  apostasy.  By  this 
they  deny  the  sufficiency  of  their  Saviour's 
most  consummate  righteousness.  They 
east  themselves  entirely  out  of  the  covenant 
of  grace,  and  must  expect  no  salvation  but 
by  doing  the  whole  law. 

This  is  the  awful  apostolic  caution  :  To 
which  let  me  subjoin  the  plain  apostolic  in- 
struction. Ye  are  accepted,  says  St.  Paul, 
not  partially,  but  entirely ;  not  ocasionally 
but  finally,  in  (he  Beloved,  All  acceptance, 
of  whatever  kind  or  whatever  date,  is  wholly 
in  him,  not  in  any  thing  of  our  own.  The 
author  to  the  Hebrews  affirms,  That  Christ 
"  hath  obtained  redemption,"  not  left  it  to  be 
accomplished,  either  in  greater  or  smaller 
measure,  by  our  diligence  and  duties.  No  ; 
he  himself  hath  obtained,  both  present  and 
final,  yea,  complete  and  eternal  "redemp- 
tion for  us."  And  will  you.  Sir,  ascribe  to 
your  own  obedience  what  the  apostle  so  ex.. 
pressly  ascribes,  and  so  entirely  appropri- 
ates,to  the  blessed  .Tesus  ?  The  same  writer 
assures  us  that  Christ,  "by  one  offering,  hath 
perfected  for  ever  them  that  are  sanctified." 
Them  that  are  cleansed  with  the  blood  of 
sprinkling,  be  hath  not  only  discharged  from 
the  guilt  of  sin,  but  rendered  them  unblam- 
able and  unreproveable  before  the  Majesty 
of  heaven.  He  hath  done  all  that  is  neces- 
sary for  their  full,  ]>erfect,  and  everlasting  ac- 
ceptation. Yes,  whether  it  be  in  life  or 
death ;  whether  it  be  at  the  throne  of  grace, 
or  the  tribunal  of  judgment ;  during  the  span 
of  time,  or  through  the  ages  of  eternity,  all 
that  is  necessary  for  our  perfect  acceptation 
is  done, — done  by  an  infinitely  better  hand 
than  our  ovi'n,  by  an  infinitely  better  expedi- 
ent than  any  human  obedience. 

Do  I,  by  these  remonstrances,  set  at 
nought  true  holiness,  or  suppose  a  salvation 
separate  from  holy  obedience  ?  You,  Sir, 
cannot  entertain  such  a  supposition  ;  since, 
in  your  very  last  remark,  you  was  dissatis- 
fied with  my  insisting  on  the  inseparable 
connexion  of  a  living  faith  and  works  of 
righteousness.  I  honour  and  prize  works  of 
righteousness.  I  would  incessantly  incul- 
cate, both  the  indispensable  necessity  and 
the  manifold  utility  of  holy  obedience.  We 
are  redeemed,  that  we  may  be  zealous  of 
good  works  :  We  are  created  in  Christ  Je.. 
sus,  that  we  may  be  able  to  do  good  works  ; 
And  by  good  works  we  are  to  glorify  our 
lather  which  is  in  heaven. 

Only  I  would  have  good  works  know 
their  proper  station  and  their  office.  I  am 
far  from  setting  at  nought  the  services  of  the 
hand  or  the  foot ;  but  I  should  very  much 
disapprove  their  design,  I  should  utterly  des- 
pise their  pretensions,  if  they  should  oiler  to 
intrude  themselveson  the  province  of  the  eye, 


HEV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


490 


or  act  as  the  organs  of  sight.  Apply  this 
simile  to  the  obedience  of  man,  and  justifi- 
cation before  God,  or  acceptance  with  God; 
you  will  then  see  in  what  rank  I  place,  in  what 
esteem  I  hold,  both  the  one  and  the  other. 

As  I  would  have  obedience  know  its  pro- 
per place,  so  I  would  have  it  take  a  right 
form.  The  obedience  which  you  propose  is 
the  obedience  of  the  bondman,  not  of  the 
free.  A  skive  bought  witli  our  money,  obeys 
in  order  to  be  accepted.  A  servant  hired  to 
dispatch  our  business  obeys  in  order  to  re- 
ceive his  wages.  iJut  the  child  obeys  be- 
cause he  is  beloved  ;  because  he  is  the  neir, 
and  all  things  which  the  father  hath  are  his. 

*'  Obey  in  order  to  acceptance !"  Indeed, 
Sir,  you  quite  mistake  the  principle  and 
source  of  Christian  obedience.  JNor  shall  I 
undertake  to  rectify  your  mistaken  appre- 
hensions, lest  you  should  scorn  to  learn 
from  an  inferior.  I  will  refer  you  to  a  set 
of  teachers,  from  whom  you  need  not  blush 
to  receive  instruction.  IJiit  as  this  may  de- 
mand a  very  particular  consideration,  1  shall 
postpone  it  to  some  future  ojiportunity,  and 
assign  to  it  a  distinct  epistle. 

In  the  mean  time,  if  you  should  ask,  why 
I  have  been  so  copious  upon  this  point  ?  I 
answer.  Because  it  is  a  matter  of  the  utmost 
importance.  An  error  on  this  subject,  is 
as  detrimental  to  our  spiritual  welfare  as  a 
fault  in  tlie  first  concoction  is  to  the  animal 
constitution.  A  mistake  concerning  ac- 
ceptance with  (rod,  must  set  in  a  false  light 
every  religious  truth,  and  shed  a  malignant 
inrtuence  on  every  religious  sentiment. 

If  you  ask,  why  I  have  repeated  the  ob- 
noxious proposition,  almost  as  frequently  as 
the  ram's  horns  sounded  the  fatal  blast  on 
the  day  when  Jericho  was  overthrown  ?  I 
answer,  For  the  very  same  pur])ose.  To 
overthrow,  if  possible,  so  pernicious  a  no- 
tion ;  to  lay  it  as  low  as  the  fortifications  of 
that  devoted  city.  And  I  hope,  neither 
Mr.  Wesley  nor  any  other,  will  attempt  to 
rebuild  it,  lest  they  lay  the  foundation  there- 
of in  the  dishonour  of  the  blessed  Redeem- 
er; and  set  up  the  gates  of  it  in  the  dis- 
tress of  precious  souls.  13oth  which  ef- 
fects, I  am  persuaded,  are  very  remote  from 
your  intention.  That  they  may  be  equally 
itniote  Iroin  your  preaching,  your  writing, 
and  all  your  doctrine,  is  the  sincere  wish  of, 
^cc. 


LETTER  IV. 

Reveuend  Sir, — I  had,  in  the  warmth  of 
my  concern,  almost  forgot  to  take  notice  of 
a  text  which  you  produce  from  1  Tim.  vi. 
17 — 19;  and,  which  is  somewhat  strange, 
produce  as  a  proof  that  the  ajjostle  requires 
Cliriistians  "  to  obey  in  order  to  their  filial 
acceptciiicc." 

Is  I'aui  then  become  the  apostate  ?   And 


do  the  curses  which  he  has  denounced 
against  the  seducers  of  the  Galatian  con- 
verts, fall  at  length  on  his  own  head  ?  He 
placed  Timothy  at  Ephesus,  as  a  bulwark 
against  the  encroachments  of  other  doc- 
trines. Was  it  with' a  reserve  fur  liberties 
of  this  kind,  which  he  himself  should  take  ? 
Can  we  think  his  mind  so  much  altered, 
since  he  told  those  very  Ephesians,  that 
without  seeking  acceptance  through  their 
obedience,  they  were  already  accepted  in 
the  Beloved  ?  Does  he  now  retract  the 
blessed  truth  ;  advising  the  rich  to  raise  a 
cloud  of  golden  dust,  that  it  may  cover  their 
sins,  and  waft  them  to  the  skies  ?  at  the 
same  time,  excluding  the  poor  from  the  fel- 
lowship of  this  new  gospel,  and  the  hope 
of  glory  ?  Is  he  grown  ashamed  of  that 
righteousness  of  God,  which  he  assured 
the  Romans  was  the  j)Ovver  of  God  unto 
salvation,  only  through  believing  ?  And 
are  we.  Sir,  grown  weary  of  that  pure  doc- 
trine, which  was  restored  to  us  by  our  glo- 
rious reformers  ?  Are  we  willing  to  give  up 
the  depositum,  and  return  to  the  more  than 
Egyptian  darkness  of  friars  and  monks  ; 
with  whom, 

Coelum  est  venalc  Deus  que  ? 
But  to  the  point.  I  shall  transcribe  the 
text,  and  add  a  short  paraphrase  ;  which 
may  perhaps  explain  the  meaning,  and  best 
refute  the  objection.  "  Charge  them  that 
are  rich  in  this  woild,  that  they  do  good, 
that  they  be  rich  in  good  works,  ready  to 
distribute,  willing  to  communicate  ;  laying 
up  in  store  for  themselves  a  good  founda- 
tion, that  they  may  lay  hold  on  eternal  life." 
Charge  them,  those  believers  among  you, 
who  are  rich  in  this  world,  that  thei)  do  ijood  ; 
that,  as  members  of  Christ,  they  show'kind- 
iiess,  and  exercise  beneficence  to  others. 
That  they  he  rich  in  good  ivorks,  abounding 
in  those  works  and  labours  of  love  which 
How  from  faith,  or  a  comfortable  persuasion 
of  their  interest  in  Christ.  Riudg  to  dis- 
tiibiite  on  all  proper  occasions,  with  cheer- 
fulness and  delight;  as  counting  it  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.  Willing, 
even  without  solicitation,  to  communicate, 
and  not  only  embracing,  but  seeking  every 
opportunity  of  relieving  the  necessitous. 
Lightly  esteeming  all  that  is  called  wealth 
here  below  ;  and  tai/ing  tip  in  store  for  thcm- 
A-e/iTs another  kind  of  treasure,  [even  Christ, 
who  is  the  pearl  of  j)rice,  and  the  true 
riches.]  This  will  be  a  good  foundation  of 
hojje,  of  comfort,  and  joy  against  the  time  to 
come ;  whether  it  be  the  trying  season  of 
sickness,  the  awful  horn-  of  death,  or  the 
more  tremendous  day  of  judgment.  That 
placing  (heir  afiectioiis  on  him,  and  having 
iheir  tica>uie  in  him,  tiicy  may  be  found 
wise  merchants  ;  not  grasping  uncertainties 
and  shadows,  but  lujing  fast  hold  on'  sure 

•   'irik'f.iH  Ac/don- thus!  would  nar.flatc  that 


500  LETTERS  TO  TFIE 

and  substantial  posrsessions,  even  on  eternal  Let  the  preceding  context  determine.    Hag 
Hfg^  the  apostle  been  opening  the  true  sense  of 

"  We  establish  the  law — we  provide  fori  the  precepts,  that  they  might  be  rightly  un- 
its honour,  by  the  perfect  obedience  of  derstood?  Has  he  been  inculcating  the  in - 
Christ,"  says  Aspasio.       "  Can  you  possi-    violable  obligation  of  the  precepts,  that  they 


bly  think,  (replies  Mr.  Wesley)  that  St 
Paul  meant  this  ?"  Before  I  answer  this 
question,  give  me  leave  to  ask  another. 
Have  you.  Sir,  done  justice  to  Aspasio  ? 
Is  what  you  quote  the  whole  of  his  inter- 
pretation ?  Have  you  not  secreted  a  sen- 
tence, which  speaks  the  very  thing  you 
blame  him  for  omitting  ? 

A  member  of  the  house  of  commons, 
haranguing  the  honourable  assembly,  took 
the  liberty  to  assert,  "  The  gentlemen  in 
the  ministerial  interest  never  propose  any 
thing  for  the  good  of  their  country — ."  This 
was  no  sooner  uttered  than  a  warm  partisan 
of  the  other  side  starting  up,  complained 
loudly  of  calumny  and  scandal.  Hold,  Sir, 
for  a  moment,  said  the  interrupted  orator. 
Let  me  just  finish  my  sentence,  and  then 
give  vent  to  your  vehement  invectives.  My 
intention  was  to  have  added,  " — but  we  in 
the  opposition  readily  agree  to  their  mea- 
sures." Upon  hearing  this  explanation  the 
house  smiled,  and  the  hasty  zealot  sat  down 
ashamed. 

Let  me  produce  the  whole  period  no\v 


■  .v^.^^.v,  ...,..f^>...„..  V,.  ....,  precepts,  ...„„  v.. ^j 
might  be  duly  practised?  Has  he  not  been 
asserting  a  justification  absolutely  free,  ef- 
fected by  the  righteousness  of  God,  with- 
out any  coagency  from  the  righteousness  of 
man  ?  Does  he  not,  in  the  last  words,  pro- 
fessedly encounter  the  objection,  which,  in 
every  age,  has  been  raised  against  this  sa- 
cred doctrine,  "■  Hereby  you  neglect  and 
dishonour  the  divine  law  ?"  No  ;  says  the 
inspired  apologist,  the  law  is  hereby  esta- 
blished, and  shown  to  be  more  stable  than 
earth  or  heaven.  -The  grand  Legislator 
himself  shall  be  humbled  to  its  obedience  ; 
the  God  who  gave  the  law  shall  bleed  for 
its  penalties,  rather  than  a  tittle  fail  of  its 
due  accomjjlishment.  Magnified  thus,  the 
law  indeed  is,  and  made  for  ever  honoura- 
ble. And  though  Aspasio  does  not  exclude 
our  practical  regards,  I  do  verily  for  my  own 
part  believe,  that  the  former  sentiment 
against  which  you  exclaim,  was  uppermost 
with  the  apostle,  and  is  the  chief  design  of 
the  text. 

Yes,  Sir  ;  it  was  the  apostle's  chief  de- 
sign, to  shew  the  perfect  consistency  of  free 


Let  me    proauce    LUB     uuuic    pcnuu    nuiv     aign,   lu  »iicvv    mc  j;ciic<^i-\-uii3i=ic:iJi.j(  ui  in^c 

under  consideration.  Then,  I  believe,  the  justification  with  the  most  awful  glories  of 
reader  will  allow  that  Mr.  Wesley  has  inii-  j  the  Deity  ;  and  thereby  lay  a  firm  founda- 
tatcd  this  hasty  gentleman  in  one  instance  ;  ^  tion  for  the  hope  of  a  sinner.  Had  justice, 
and  whether  he  has  not  some  reason  to  imi-  which  is  the  essential  glory  of  God's  na-' 
tate  him  in  another,  I  shall  leave  to  his  own  ture,  or  the  law,  which  is  the  revealed  glory 
determination.  Immediately  after  the  dis-  I  of  his  will'— had  either  of  these  been  violat-- 
play  of  free  justification,  or  of  "  righteous-  |  cd  by  the  evangelical  scheme,  benign  and 
ness  imputed  without  works,"  Rom.  iv.  6,  desirable  as  it  is,  it  must  have  been  utterly 
Aspasio,  aware  of  the  possibility  of  abusing  rejected  :  It  could  never  have  taken  place  ; 
his  doctrine,  asserts  the  indispensable  iie-  the  whole  world  must  have  perished,  rather 
cessity  of  holiness.  This  done,  as  quite  than  such  an  injury  be  oflfered  to  any  of  the 
cleared  from  the  accusation,  he  triumphs  divine  'perfections.  Therefore  St.  Paul 
with  the  apostle,  " '  Do  we  then  make  void  most  sweetly  teaches,  and  most  satisfactor- 
the  law  through  faith'  in  the  imputed  right-  I  ily  proves,  that  instead  of  being  injured, 
eousness  of  our  Lord  ?  '  God  forbid  !  Yea,  |  they  are  most  illustriously  displayed,  by  the 
we  establish  the  law.'       Considered  as  the   obedience   and   death  of   Christ.     By  this 

original  covenant  of  life,  we  provide  for  its  t  ,^_  _,.  i.  :..j...:i.,..:..„^ ;„  4..., 

honour,  by  the  perfect  obedience  of  Christ : 
Considered  as  the  invariable  standard  of  du- 


ty, we  enforce  its  observance,  by  the  most 
rational,  manly,  and  endearing  motives." 
Here,  Sir,  was  hardly  any  room  for  the  pre- 
cipitancy of  interruption,  because  the  whole 
passage  lay  before  you.  And  it  is  a  little 
surprising,  that  you  should  see  and  animad- 
vert upon  the  former  clause,  yet  neither  see 
nor  regard  the  clause  immediately  follow- 
ing. 

"  Did  such  a  thought  (of  establishing  the 
law  by  the  atonement  and  righteousness  of 
Christ)  ever  enter  into  St.   Paul's  mind  ?" 


means  Jehovah  is  inflexibly  just  even  in  jus- 
tifying the  ungodly  ;  and  his  law  is  highly 
exalted,  even  in  absolving  the  transgressor 
that  belie veth  in  Jesus. 


emphatical  compound  word  '.iriXa.ZwM'rat  ;  which 
apices  with  the  experience  of  the  Christian,  and  is  not 
vruhout  the  authority  ofthe  critic. 


Here  is  firmfooting;  here  is  solid  rock. 

Solid  rock,  on  which  the  sinner  may  rest, 
who  is  well  nigh  sunk  in  despair,  while  the 
waves  and  billows  of  divine  indignation  go 
over  his  alarmed  soul.  Firm  footing,  on 
which  he  may  proceed  who  sees  the  import- 
ance of  his  eternal  interests,  and  does  not 
risk  them  on  the  rague  notion  of  mere  mer- 
cy ;  does  not  give  into  the  modish  religion, 
which  leaves  such  venerable  things  as  the 
justice  of  the  Most  High,  and  the  law  of 
the  Most  Holy,  destitute  of  their  due  hon- 
our ;  and  leaves  such  impotent  creatures  as 


Ri:V.  MR,  WESLEY. 


501 


tiioii  (<i  sliifl  fur  tlici>ise\v;'s  )iy  doing  tlio 
bi_\>l  tlii-y  (MM. 

"  The  j)laiii  moiiiiins'  is,  wc  cst;il)lis!i  both 
the  true  sense  an<l  the  effectual  |)ractice  of 
Ihe  hiw  ;  we  ])rovi(le  ibr  its  beinu;  both  ini- 
(li'istood  and  practised  in  its  full  extent." 
How  can  you  make  this  jjrovision,  if  you 
.set  aside  the  consummate  obedience  of 
Christ,  "  who  is  the  end  of  the  law  for 
righteousness  ;"  for  accomplishing  that 
righteousness  which  its  precepts  describe, 
and  its  constitution  demands  ? 

O  Sir !  did  you  consider  what  that 
ineaneth  which  the  apostle  styles  to  o^waTov 
Tn  vofin,  you  would  not  use  this  language. 
Can  we,  can  such  miserable  sinners  as  we, 
ever  dream  of  effectually  j)ractising,  in  its 
i'till  extent,  that  law  which  condemns  every 
iiiilta'e,  which  retiuires  truth  in  the  inward 
parts,  w  hicli  insists  upon  perfection,  abso- 
lute j)crfection,  in  every  instance,  and  on  all 
occasions ;  charging  lis, 

Witli  act  intense,  and  unremitteil  nerve. 
To  hold  a  course  unfalteting, 

to  the  very  end  of  our  lives,  and  from  the 
beginning  of  them  too  ?  Attend,  I  entreat 
yon.  Sir,  to  this  most  sublime  sanctity  of 
the  divine  law.  Then,  instead  of  saying, 
"  we  provide  for  its  performance  in  the  full 
e*;tent  of  its  demands,"  you  will  probably  say, 
with  a  more  becoming  modesty.  We  provide 
for  its  performaiice  in  a  way  of  willing, 
clieerful,  sincere  obedience ;  still  looking 
unto  him  for  justification,  who  has,  in  our 
name  and  as  our  surety,  fulfilled  it  to  the 
very  uttermost. 

It  is,  I  ap])relieHd,  one  of  your  leading 
(>i  rois,  that  you  form  low,  scanty,  inadequate 
apprehensions  of  God's  law  ;  that  law  which 
is  a  bright  representation  of  his  most  pure 
nature,  a  beautiful  draught  of  his  most  holy 
will,  and  never  since  the  fall  has  been  per- 
fectly exem])lified  in  any  living  character, 
but  only  in  the  man  Christ  Jesus.  FVom 
this  error  many  others  must  ima\oidably  fol- 
low : — a  disestec.'uiof  im])u6i,'d  righteousness, 
and  a  conceit  of  personal  perfection  ;  a  S])i- 
rit  of  legal  bondage,  and,  I  fear,  a  tincture 
of  Pharisaical  pride. 

Should  Mv.  Wesley  ask,  why  I  harbour 
such  a  sus])icion  concerning  his  sentiments 
ill  this  pialicular?  I  answer.  Because  here 
he  sjK'iiks  of  practising  this  law,  which  is  so 
cxceed'aig  broad,  in  its  full  extent.  Be- 
cause, elsewhere,  he  represents  the  viola- 
tions of  this  law,  whose  least  tittle  is  of 
great(;r  dignity  than  heaven  and  earth,  as 
small  matters,  as  petty  offences  ;  or,  to  use 
Lis  own  words,  as  "  things  not  exactly  right." 
But  more  of  this  hereafter. 

Aspasio,  to  vindicate  the  equity  of  the 
future  judgment,  declares,  "  I  see  nothing 
arbitrary  in  this  procedure,  but  an  admira- 
ble mixture  of  just  severity  and  free  good- 
ness.   On  those  who  reject  the  atonement, 


just  severity  ;  to  those  wno  rely  on  their  Sa- 
viour, free  goodness."  Mr.  Wesley,  as  though 
he  would  exculpate  the  ungodly,  asks, 
"  Was  it  ever  possible  for  them  not  to  re- 
ject?" What  says  our  infallible  coinibellor, 
the  teacher  sent  from  God  ?  "  They  will 
not  come  to  me,  that  they  may  have  life." 
They  rejected  his  counsel.  They  would 
not  cease  from  their  own  works,  and  betake 
themselves  wholly  to  the  righteousness  of 
Christ.  This  method  of  salvation  they  dis- 
liked. It  was  foolishness  unto  them.  There- 
fore, they  were  disobedient  to  the  heavenly 
call.  Does  this  take  away  their  guilt  ? 
Must  God  be  reckoned  unjust  in  punishing, 
because  mcii  are  obstinate  in  their  unbe- 
lief? 

God  does  not  require  me,  as  you  too  in- 
juriously bint,  to  "  touch  heaven  with  my 
hand,"  in  order  to  escape  damnation  ;  but 
he  invites  and  requires  me  to  accept  of 
Christ  and  his  salvation.  If,  intent  upon 
any  imaginary  accomplishments  of  my  own, 
I  overlook  the  gift ;  or  if,  eager  in  the  pur- 
suit of  worldly  gratifications,  I  trample  up- 
on it;  is  not  the  fault  entirely  my  own? 
Does  it  not  proceed  from  the  folly  of  my 
mind,  or  the  bad  disposition  of  my  heart ; 
and  leave  my  conduct  without  excuse  ? 

"  Justification  is  complete,  the  first  mo- 
ment we  believe ;  and  is  incapable  of  aug- 
mentation." Thus  Aspasio  speaks.  Thus 
Mr.  Wesley  replies,  "Not  so." — And  has 
he,  for  his  authority,  a  single  text  of  Scrip- 
ture ?  No  ;  but  the  whole  coi,incil  of  Trent, 
one  of  whose  canons  dogmatizes  in  tliis 
manner :  ''  If  any  shall  affirm,  that  righte- 
ousness received  is  not  preserved,  and  in- 
creased likewise,  by  good  works  ;  but  that 
good  works  are  only  the  fruits  and  signs  of 
justification  obtained,  not  the  means  of  in- 
creasing it  also,  let  him  be  accursed  ;"  Sess. 
vi.  Can.  '24.  I  am  sorry.  Sir,  to  see  you  again 
in  such  comjiany.  And  I  would  ho])e,  if  it 
were  not  an  unhandsome  reflection,  you  did 
not  know  your  associates.  Yet  it  is  strange, 
that  a  Protestant  divine  should  have  bci'u  so 
inattentive  to  the  main  part  of  his  character  ; 
or  should  be  able  to  forget,  that  (•on)i)lete 
justification,  through  the  righteousness  of 
our  Lord  alone,  is  the  very  essence,  soul, 
and  glory  of  the  Reformation. 

But  let  us  examine  the  point  :  Justifica- 
tion, I  aj)prehend,  is  one  single  act  of  divine 
grace.  It  must,  therefore,  be  either  done 
or  undone.  If  done,  in  my  very  idea  of  the 
act,  it  includes  completeness.  So  that  to 
speak  of  incomplete  justification  is  a  con- 
tradiction in  terms  ;  like  speaking  of  dark 
sunshine,  or  a  round  square. 

An  incomplete  justification  seems,  in  tlie 
very  nature  of  things,  to  be  an  absolute  im- 
])ossibility;  Even  an  earthly  judge  cannot 
justify  where  there  is  the  least  deiKiitiire 
from  integrity.      lU;  may  oveilook,.  he  miiy 


503 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


show  clemency,  he  may  forgive  ;  but  he  can- 
not, in  such  a  case,  pronounce  righteous. 
Much  less  can  we  suppose  that  justification 
should  take  place  before  an  infinitely  pure 
and  jealous  God,  unless  all  guilt  be  done 
away,  and  the  person  be  rendered  complete- 
ly righteous; 

Besides,  can  that  justification  be  other 
than  complete,  which  is  brought  to  pass  by 
the  most  majestic  Son  of  God  ?  by  his 
perfectly  holy  nature,  by  his  infinitely  pre- 
cious sufferings,  and  by  his  inconceivably 
meritorious  obedience  ?  This,  if  any  thiaig 
in  the  world,  must  be  absolutely  complete ; 
beyond  compare,  and  beyond  imagination 
complete  ;  to  speak  all  in  a  word,  complete 
in  proportion  to  the  dignity,  perfection,  and 
gloiy  of  the  accomplisher. 

Is  any  such  notion  as  an  incomplete  jus- 
tification to  be  found  in  the  Bible  ?  St. 
Paul  says,  "  whosoever  believeth  is  justifi- 
ed ;"  to  all  intents  and  purposes  justified. 
No,  says  Mr.  Wesley  ;  lie  may  be  justified 
only  in  part,  or  by  halves.  "  He  that  be- 
lieveth (adds  the  apostle)  is  justified  from 
all  things,"  No,  replies  Mr.  Wesley  ; 
many  that  believe,  especially  in  the  infancy 
of  their  faith,  are  justified  only  from  some 
things.  There  is  no  necessity  that  justifi- 
cation should  be  complete,  when  or  wher- 
ever it  exists. 

Is  there  no  necessity  ?  Why  then  does 
the  voice  of  insjiiration  assert,  that  the 
righteousness  of  God  is  upon  them  that  be- 
lieve ?  Can  a  man  have  that  incomp;irably 
magnificent  righteousness,  and  yet  be  in- 
completely justified?  Does  not  the  same  in- 
spired writer  decLne,  that  this  perfect  and 
divine  righteousness  is  upon  all ;  not  upon 
some  only,  but  upon  all  believers  ;  whether 
they  be  weak  or  strong,  whether  in  the 
first  moments  of  their  conversion,  or  in  the 
last  stage  of  their  warfare  ?  Yes ;  and  he 
farther  assures  us,  that  there  is  no  differ- 
ence ;  no  difference,  with  regard  to  the 
righteousness  itself,  for  it  is  the  one  ever- 
lasting righteousness  of  the  incarnate  God  ; 
no  difference  as  to  the  reality  of  its  impu- 
tation, for  it  is  unto  all,  and  upon  all ;  no 
difl!"erence  in  the  way  of  receiving  it,  which 
is  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ ;  consequently, 
no  diflference  in  the  fruits  or  effects  ;  which 
are  pardon  and  acceptiuice,  free  and  full 
justification. 

Is  Mr.  Wesley,  like  the  popish  party,  an 
advocate  for  a  first,  for  a  second,  for  I  know 
not  how  many  justifications  ?  According  to 
this  scheme  indeed,  justification  would  be  an 
incomplete  thing.  But  the  misfortune  at- 
tending this  scheme  is,  that  it  has  no  foun- 
dation in  Scripture.  The  Scripture  knows 
nothing  of  it ;  the  Scri])ture  declares  against 
it ;  and  acknowledges,  as  but  one  faith,  but 
one  baptism,  so  but  one  justification. 

This  is  the  grand  scriptural  maxim,   "  He 


hath,  by  one  oblation,  perfected  for  ever 
them  that  are  sanctified."  The  oblation  is 
one,  needing  no  repetition,  and  no  appen- 
dage. It  does  not  partially  accomplish,  but 
perfects  the  business  of  justification  ;  per- 
fects it,  not  at  the  last  only,  but  from  first 
to  last,  yea,  for  ever  and  ever.  In  behalf 
of  all  those  who  are  sanctified,  or  made  par- 
takers of  this  great  sacrifice,  and  this  divine 
atonement. 

This  is  the  fine  scriptural  illustration, 
"  The  heir,  even  while  he  is  a  child,  is  lord 
of  all."  You  have,  perhaps,  a  son  born. 
Upon  this  child  you  multiply  your  favours 
and  caresses  :  He  grows  in  wisdom  and 
stature  :  Yet  neither  your  favours,  nor  his 
growth,  add  any  thing  to  his  sonship,  nor 
augment  his  right  to  your  inheritance.  With 
both  these  he  was  invested  the  first  moment 
he  drew  breath.  So,  we  are  no  sooner  jus- 
tified than  we  are  heirs ;  "  heirs  of  God, 
and  joint  heirs  with  Christ."  The  percep- 
tion and  enjoyment  of  this  pris'ilege  may  in- 
crease ;  but  the  privilege  itself,  like  the 
birth-right  of  the  first-born,  is  incapable  of 
augmentation. 

Woidd  Mr.  Wesley,  with  the  followers 
of  Arminius,  exclude  the  righteousness  of 
Christ,  and  introduce  something  of  man's, 
as  the  efficient,  or  as  a  concurrent  cause  of 
justification  ?  Then,  likewise,  his  notion 
of  a  gradual,  a  variable,  and  inconi})lete  jus- 
tification must  ensue.  Whether  it  be  faith, 
M'hich  he  would  introduce  for  this  purpose, 
or  repentance,  or  sincere  obedience,  or  what- 
ever else  he  pleases,  according  to  the  mea- 
sure of  these  works  or  graces,  must  be  the 
degree  of  justification  ;  and  not  only  as  to 
different  persons,  but  as  to  the  same  person, 
at  different  times. 

Farther  ;  since  all  these  endowments  are, 
so  long  as  we  continue  in  the  present  state, 
imperfect,  our  justification  must,  according 
to  this  plan,  unavoidably  partake  of  their 
imperfections.  It  cannot  be  entire  and 
lacking  nothing,  till  mortality  is  swallowed 
up  of  life. — But  how  contrary  is  this  to  a 
cloud  of  witnesses  from  the  Scriptures  ! 
*'  Ye  are  (even  now)  justified.  He  hath 
(even  in  this  present  time)  reconciled  3'on 
to  God."  Through  the  birth  and  death  of 
Immaiiuel,  there  is  not  only  peace  on  earth, 
but  good-will  towards  men  ;  ivIokiu.,  favour, 
complacency,  and  love,  from  the  holy  God 
to  the  fallen  soul.  And  is  not  this  com- 
plete justification  ? 

"  There  may  be  as  many  degrees  in  the 
favour,  as  in  the  image  of  God."  This 
objection  turns  upon  a  supposition,  that  the 
favour  of  God  towards  us,  is  occasioned  by 
the  image  of  God  in  us  ;  which  is  the  doc- 
trine of  the  law,  the  very  language  of  Hea- 
thenism, and  has  not  a  savour  of  that  gos- 
pel, in  which  Christ  is  aU.  And  I  think 
myself  more  concerned  to  remove  such  very 


REV.  MR.   WESLEY. 


503 


prejudicial  mistakes,  than  to  sift  and  adjust 
any  nice  sj)eculations  relating  to  degrees  of 
the  divine  favour.  Aspasio  has  touched 
this  point.  Referring  you  to  his  observa- 
tion, I  shall  confine  myself  to  a  more  inte- 
resting subject. 

It  is  Christ  who  has  redeemed  us  to  God, 
to  the  favour  and  fruition  of  God,  by  his 
blood  ;  by  his  blood  alone,  without  any  aid 
from  our  goodness,  or  any  co-operation 
from  any  creature.  His  work  pleases  God  ; 
his  \\-ork  magnifies  the  law  ;  his  work  is 
incomparably  the  noblest  of  all  things  in 
heaven  or  earth.  This,  therefore,  is  our 
reconnnendation  to  the  divine  Majesty.  In- 
terested in  this,  we  stand  perfectly  righte- 
ous before  the  King  immortal,  and  shall  be 
eternally  acceptable  in  his  sight.  It  was 
only  on  account  of  Abraham's  supplication, 
that  (Jod  showed  compassion  to  Abime- 
iech ;  it  was  only  on  account  of  Job's  in- 
tercession, that  the  Lord  was  pacified  to- 
wards his  three  friends ;  and  it  is  only  oti 
account  of  Christ's  righteousness,  that  the 
high  and  holy  One  beholds  any  child  of 
Adam  with  complacency  and  delight.  To 
Jesus  alone  belongs  the  honour  of  reconcil- 
ing, justifying,  saving  the  innumerable  mil- 
lions of  redeemed  sinners.  And  is  not  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain  worthy  to  be  thus  hon- 
oured, and  thus  exalted  ? 

Is,  then,  our  own  internal  and  external 
goodness  of  no  avail  in  this  matter? — Let 
lis  hear  the  eloquent  Isaiah,  the  evangelist 
of  the  Jewish  church  :  "  The  lofty  looks 
of  man  shall  be  humbled,  and  the  haughti- 
ness of  men  shall  be  bowed  down  ;  and  the 
Lord  (the  Lord  Jesus  Christ)  alone  shall 
be  exalted  in  th;it  day."  Does  this  text,  it 
may  be  said,  relate  to  the  gospel,  and  the 
case  of  acceptance  with  God  ?  Or  is  it 
])ossible  to  make  what  follows  consistent 
with  such  an  interpretation  ?  Let  us  see 
whether  it  be  not  by  the  Holy  Ghost  him- 
self, made  perfectly  consistent  with  such  a 
sense. 

The  day  of  (lie  Lord  of  hosts,  in  the  j)ro- 
phetiral  S<Tipturcs,  generally  and  principally 
signifies  the  time  of  the  gos])el  dispensation  ; 
when  the  Lord  juits  the  finishing  hand  to 
his  revelation,  gives  the  brightest  display  of 
his  grace,  and  gathers  together  all  things  in 
Christ. 

This  da)-,  and  its  influence,  shall  cause  a 
wonderful  revolution  in  what  is  called  the 
religious,  virtuous,  moral  world  ;It  shall  fall 
like  a  thunderbolt  ujion  every  idol  set  up  in 
the  hearts  of  men  ;  shall  prove  their  wisdom 
to  be  folly,  their  ability  to  be  impotence,  all 
their  works  to  be  worthless. 

This  ])ro])hecy  being  so  repugnant  to  our 

notions,  and  so  disgustful  to  our  inclinations, 

is  asserted  and  enforced  with  the  greatest 

j>articularity,  botliasto  ])ersoiis  and  to  things. 

As  to  j)crson!>, — "  For  the  day  of  the  Lord 


of  hosts  shall  be  u])on"' — whom  ?  V\)(m  the 
sordid  wretch,  or  the  scandalous  sinner  ?  Ra- 
ther upon  "  everj  one  that  is  proud  and  lofty 
in  his  own  conceit ;"  pluming  liimself  with 
the  notion  of  some  imaginary  pre-eminence 
over  his  neighbour.  It  shall  be  likewise 
upon  "  every  one  that  is  lifted  up"  in  the  es- 
teem of  others  ;  either  on  account  of  Roman 
virtue,  or  Athenian  philosophy,  or  phari- 
saical  zeal ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  aspiring 
pretensions,  or  glittering  accomplishments, 
"  he  shall  be  brought  low,"  shall  be  degrad- 
ed to  the  rank  of  a  lost,  undone,  helpless 
sinner. 

So  that  none  shall  have  it  in  liis  jjower  to 
say,  "  I  am  better  than  thou.  I  stand  upon 
more  honourable  terms  with  my  ]\Likcr,  and 
am  a  fitter  object  for  his  favour."  They 
shall  all  be  like  prisoners  confined  in  the 
same  dungeon,  and  liable  in  the  same  con- 
demnation. Every  one  of  them  equally  des- 
titute of  any  plea  for  justification  ;  and  all 
of  them,  as  to  acceptance  with  their  Creator, 
without  any  difference.  No  difference, ', in 
this  respect,  between  the  accomplished  gen- 
tleman and  the  infamous  scoundrel ;  no  dif- 
ference between  the  virtuous  lady  and  the 
vile  prostitute  :  no  difference  at  all  as  to  the 
way  and  manner  of  their  obtaining  salvation. 
So  that  the  whole  may  appear  to  be  of  grace. 
As  to  things. — This  part  of  the  subject  is 
illustrated  by  a  grand  assemblage  of  images, 
comprehending  all  that  is  most  distinguish- 
able in  the  visible  creation,  and  denoting 
whatever  is  most  admired  or  celebrated 
among  the  sons  of  men.  Oaks  and  cedars  are 
the  most  stately  productions  of  vegetable  na- 
ture :  Therefore  "  the  day  shall  be  upon  all 
the  cedars  of  Lebanon,  and  upon  all  the  oaks 
of  Bashan."  Hills  and  mountains  are  the 
most  conspicuous  and  majestic  elevations 
of  the  earth  :  Therefore  "  the  day  shall  be 
upon  all  the  high  mountains,  and  upon  all 
the  hills  that  are  lifted  up."  Towers  and 
cities  are  the  most  magnificent  works  of  hu- 
man art :  Therefore  "  the  day  shall  be  upon 
every  liigh  tower,  and  upon  every  fenced 
wall."  The  ships  cfTarshiah  are  put  for  tlio 
wealth,  the  advantages,  and  the  various  im- 
provements procured  by  navigation  and  com- 
merce. Pleasant  iiicfuies  may  rejirescnt 
every  elegant  and  refined  embellishment  of 
civil  life-  The  whole  collection  of  mct- 
aphrrs  seems  to  express  all  those  attainments, 
possessions,  and  excellencies,  which  are  sup- 
posed to  add  dignity  to  our  nature,  or  stabi- 
lity to  oiu'  hoi)es  ;  to  coiKstitute  a  portion  in 
which  v;e  ourselves  may  rest  satisfied,  or  a 
recommcndr.tion  which  may  entitle  us  to  the 
favour  of  Iieaxen. 

Yet  all  these  things,  before  the  require- 
ments of  God's  law,  and  before  the  revela- 
tion of  his,  righteousness,  .shall  be  eclipsed 
and  disgraced  ;  thio«  n  to  the  bats,  and  con- 
si^MU'd  o\cr  lo  ob.'-ciiiity  ;  t)uoi\ii    to    the 


504 

moles,  and  trampled  into  the  dust.  So  that 
in  the  pursuit  of  eternal  life  none  shall  regard 
them,  or  else  regard  them  only  to  despise  them. 

Thus  says  the  prophet  a  second  time. 
To  render  the  work  of  humiliation  effectual, 
he  redoubles  his  blow.  May  our  whole  souls 
feel  the  energy  of  his  vigorous  expressions ! 
Thus  "  shall  the  loftiness  of  man  be  bowed 
down,  and  the  haughtiness  of  men  shall  be 
laid  low."  AH  notion  of  personal  excel- 
lency set  aside,  they  shall  be  base  and  vile  in 
their  ovni  eyes,  acknowledge  the  impossibi- 
lity of  being  reconciled  by  any  duties  of  their 
owai,  and  place  all  their  confidence  on  the 
propitiating  death  and  meritorious  obedience 
of  Jesus  Christ :  They  less  than  nothing,  he 
all  in  all. 

With  this  important  sentiment  I  close  my 
letter ;  not  without  an  ardent  wsh,  that  it 
may  sink  into  our  thoughts,  and  dwell  upon 
both  our  hearts.  Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  V. 

Reverend  Sir, — Your  last,  and  several  of 
yoiu:  other  objections,  appear  more  like 
notes  and  memorandums,  than  a  just  plea 
to  the  public,  or  a  satisfactory  explanation 
of  your  opinion.  They  have  rather  the  air 
of  a  caveat,  than  a  confutation ;  and  we 
are  often  at  a  loss  to  discern,  how  far  your 
remonstrance  is  either  forcible  or  apposite. 
Brief  negatives,  laconic  assertions,  and 
quick  interrogatories,  opened  by  no  perti- 
nent illustrations,  supported  by  no  scriptur- 
al authority,  are  more  likely  to  stagger,  stun, 
and  puzzle,  than  to  settle  our  notions  in  re- 
ligion. You  seem.  Sir,  to  have  forgotten, 
that  propositions  are  not  to  be  established 
with  the  same  ease  as  doubts  are  started'; 
and  therefore  have  contented  yourself  with 
a  brevity  which  produces  but  little  convic- 
tion, and  more  than  a  little  obscurity. 

This  brevity  of  yours  is  the  cause,  and  I 
hope  will  be  the  excuse,  of  my  prolixity  ; 
which,  I  perceive,  is  gi'owing  upon  my 
hands,  much  more  than  I  intended.  If  you 
had  been  pleased  to  show  your  arguments 
at  full  length,  and  to  accompany  wath  proof 
your  glosses  upon  Scripture,  the  reader 
would  then  have  been  able  to  determine  the 
preponderating  evidence  between  yourself 
and  Aspasio  ;  and  my  trouble  had  been  con- 
siderably lessened,  perhaps  quite  spared. 

An  instance  of  the  foregoing  remark  is 
the  objection  which  follows.  "  St.  Paul 
often  mentions  a  righteousness  imputed," 
says  Aspasio.  "  Not  a  righteousness, 
(says  Mr.  Wesley,)  never  once  ;  but  sim- 
ply righteousnoss."  St.  Paul  mentions  Si X- 
aioaurn,  the  rigiitfousncss  which  is  imputed, 
both  with  and  witlioiit  the  Greek  article. 
And  do  neither  of  these  signify  n  righteous- 
ni.bs  ?     This  is  a  piece  of  criticism,  as  new 


LETTERS  TO  THE 

to  me,  as  it  is  nice  in  itself.  Besides,  where- 
is  the  difference  between  a  righteousness, 
and  righteousness.  Is  not  every  righteous- 
ness arighteousness  ?  Is  not  every  person 
a  person  ?  and  every  prodigious  refinement, 
a  prodigious  refinement  ?  I  thought  Mr. 
Wesley  had  known  how  to  employ  his  time 
better  than  in  splitting,  or  thus  attempting 
to  split,  hairs. 

To  what  purpose.  Sir,  is  this  excessive 
refinement  ?  Many  of  your  readers,  I  ap- 
prehend, will  find  it  difficult  to  conjecture. 
For  my  own  part,  I  freely  confess,  that  I 
could  not  for  a  considerable  time  discern 
your  aim.  Nor  can  I,  even  now,  discover 
any  other  design,  than  a  forced  endeavour  to 
exclude  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  and  in- 
troduce a  mistaken  something  of  your  own 
to  officiate  in  its  stead.  As  the  thread  of 
your  criticism  is  spun  extremely  fine,  we 
must  examine  it  with  the  closest  attention. 
But  first  let  me  just  take  notice — 

That  Aspasio,  in  consequence  of  his  ob- 
servation deduced  from  the  apostle's  Ian- 
guage,  asks,  What  or  whose  righteousness 
can  this  be  ?  To  which  Mr.  Wesley  an- 
swers, "  he  tells  you  himself ;  faith  is  im- 
puted for  righteousness."  But  have  you 
never  read  Aspasio's  interpretation  of  this 
text?  If  not,  be  so  impartial  as  to  cast 
your  eye  upon  the  tenth  Dialogue.  There 
he  considers  this  passage  at  large,  and  lays 
before  you  his  exposition  of  the  words  ;  not 
imposing  it  without  assigning  a  reason  ; 
but,  together  with  his  exposition,  present- 
ing you  with  the  groimds  of  his  opinion. 
Kyou  can  overthrow  them,  try  your  strength 
and  your  skill.  They  stand  ready  to  re- 
ceive your  attack,  being  at  present  in  full 
possession  of  the  field. 

However,  if  you  vnVL  not  advert  to  his 
thoughts,  allow  me,  if  I  can,  to  penetrate 
yours.  "  St.  Paul  never  mentions  a  right- 
eousness, but  simply  righteousness."  Thus, 
I  presume,  you  argue  : — Not  a  righteous- 
ness ;  that  might  seem  to  denote  some  real 
righteousness,  'some  actual  conformity  to 
the  divine  law,  imputed  to  sinners  for  their 
justification.  Whereas,  if  faith  be  substi- 
tuted instead  of  this  real  righteousness  ;  if 
faith  be  all  that  to  us,  which  our  own  obe- 
dience to  the  law  should  have  been,  and 
which  Aspasio  supposes  the  righteousness 
of  Christ  is  appointed  to  be  ;  if  faith  itself 
be  aU  this  to  us,  then  we  are  made  righte- 
ous without  a  righteousness.  Something  is 
accounted  to  us  for  righteousness,  which  is 
really  no  such_thing.  Then  we  shall  be  under 
no  necessity  of  submitting  to  the  righteous- 
ness of  our  God  and  Saviour,  but  may  easily 
be  furnished  out  of  our  own  stock. 

Is  not  this,  or  something  like  this,  your 
way  of  reasoning  ?  Do  you  not,  in  this 
manner,  understand  faith  imputed  for  right- 
eousness?    Not  as  deriving  all  its  efficacy. 


REV.   MR.   WESLEY. 


505 


all  its  sigiiiliL'iincy;  (mm  its  most  magnifi- 
funt  object ;  but  us  being  itself  the  cfticient 
of  justification,  the  very  thing  for  which  we 
are  accepted  :  in  opposition  "  to  tlie  wick- 
ed and  vain  commentaries  of  the  Calvinists, 
which  say,  that  all  this  is  resident  in  Christ, 
and  apprehended  by  faith." 

This  led  me  to  use  that  singular  expres- 
sion, "  a  mistaken  something  ;"  since  this  is 
an  egregious  mistake  of  faith — of  its  nature, 
its  end,  its  import.  Of  its  nature  :  For  it  is 
a  going  out  of  self,  and  a  flying  to  Christ, 
for  pardon,  for  peace,  and  for  every  sj)iri- 
tual  blessing.  Of  its  end  :  For  it  is  or- 
dained to  preclude  all  boasting,  that  itself 
may  be  nothing  ;  that  its  owner  may  be 
nothing ;  that  the  grace  of  God,  and  tl' 
righteousness  of  Christ,  may  be  all  in  aii. 
Of  its  import :  For  it  says,  according  to 
the  prophet.  In  the  Lord,  not  in  myself, 
have  I  righteousness.  It  would  expostul- 
ate in  the  words  of  the  apostle,  with  its 
overweening  and  doating  admirers.  Ye  men 
of  Israel,  why  look  ye  so  earnestly  on  me, 
as  though  by  my  own  power  or  dignity  I 
had  procured  your  reconciliation,  and  ren- 
dered you  accepted  ?  The  God  of  Abra- 
ham, Isaac,  and  Jacob,  has  glorified  his 
Son  Jesus,  and  appropriated  this  honour 
to  his  obedience  and  death.  In  the  matter 
of  justification,  it  is  my  business,  not  to 
furnish  a  contingent,  not  to  supply  any 
part,  but  to  receive  the  whole  from  his  ful- 
ness. 

"  On  Christ's  death  sinners  are  to  rely 
as  the  cause  of  their  forgiveness  ;  on  Christ's 
obedience,  as  the  ground  of  their  acceptance." 
— "  How  does  this  agree  with  other  places  ?" 
Be  pleased  to  turn  back,  Sir,  to  the  places 
to  which  you  allude ;  and,  with  a  very  little 
attention,  you  will  perceive  the  agreement. 
Then  let  me  desire  you  to  turn  inward ;  and 
you  will  probably  discern  more  than  a  little 
disingenuity  in  your  own  procedure  ;  since 
you  resolve  to  stop  your  ears  against  the 
author's  explanation,  his  very  particular 
explanation  and  restriction  of  his  own  mean- 
ing.* If  you  was  examining  a  mathemati- 
cal system,  you  would  always  carry  in  your 
memory  the  leading  problems  or  introduc- 
tory axioms.  If  you  did  not,  your  own 
judgment  would  blame  you.  And  when 
you  neglect  to  do  the  same  in  canvassing  a 
theological  treatise,  does  not  your  own  con- 
science reprove  you  ? 

"  Our  Lord  commends  such  kinds  of  be- 


*  Aspasio,  spcakiiiR  of  the  obedience  and  death  of 
Christ,  professedly  declares,  "  However,  therefore,  I 
may  happen  to  express  myself,  I  never  consider  them 
a.i  acting;  in  tlio  exclusive  sense;  bnt  would  always 
liaTf  thon  mukrsliiod,  as  af;rand  and  glorious  afisrc- 
(^.itc.  l.ookin;;  upon  our  .Saviour's  universal  obedi- 
ence, which  conuuenced  at  his  incarnation,  was  car- 
ried on  throut,'h  his  life,  and  terniinalcd  in  hisdeath  ; 
lookim;  upon  all  this,  in  its  collective  form,  as  the 
olijtct  of  my  failh,  and  the  foundation  of  my  hope." 


Itfficence  only,  ita  were  exercised  to  a  dis- 
ciple in  the  name  of  a  disciple."  Here  Mr. 
Wesley  asks,  "  Is  not  this  a  slip  of  the 
pen  ?"  Read  the  passage,  Sir ;  and  answer 
yourself.  What  are  our  Lord's  words  ? 
"  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  to  these  my 
brethren."  Have  you  not  then  as  much 
reason  to  charge  our  divine  JMaster  with  a 
slip  of  the  tongue,  as  to  charge  Aspasio 
with  a  slip  of  the  pen  ?  It  is  undeniably 
plain,  that  he  does  in  fact  commend  only 
such  kinds  of  beneficence  as  were  exercised 
towards  his  brethren.  And  I  presume  you 
will  readily  grant,  that  his  brethren,  the  no- 
bler relation,  cannot  be  more  extensive  than 
his  disciples,  the  inferior. 

"  Will  not  our  Lord  then  commend  all 
kinds  of  beneficence,  provided,"  &c.  Ex- 
cuse my  cutting  short  your  speech.  You 
are  rambling  from  the  point.  AVhat  Christ 
will  do,  is  quite  another  question.  Aspa- 
sio neither  denies  nor  affirms  any  thing  on 
this  subject.  All  that  he  considers  is,  what 
appears  to  be  really  done,  in  that  particular 
description  of  the  last  day,  and  its  awful 
process.  Nor  will  he  scruple  to  affirm,  a 
second  time,  that  our  Lord  applauds  such 
acts  of  beneficence  only  as  were  exercised 
to  a  disciple,  to  believers,  to  his  brethren. 

The  righteous  Judge  specifies  this  sort  of 
munificence,  because  it  is  a  sure  indication 
of  one  begotten  by  the  word  of  truth.  It  is 
a  test,  which  none  but  the  saints  and  faith- 
ful in  Christ  Jesus  will  come  up  to.  And 
a  Christian  is  most  properly  distinguished, 
not  by  what  he  does  in  common  with  others, 
but  by  the  different  princijjle  from  which  he 
acts.  Of  this  particularity  Aspasio  takes 
notice,  on  purpose  to  warn,  as  well  as  to 
exhort  his  readers  :  Exhort  them,  that  they 
may  abound  in  works  of  generosity  :  Warn 
them,  that  their  works  may  spring  from  the 
right  source — faith  in  the  divine  Redeemer. 

You  are  not  willing  to  call  works  of  be- 
neficence, though  exercised  to  a  Samaritan 
or  a  Heathen,  "  transient  bubbles."  No 
more  is  Aspasio,  in  the  sense  and  manner 
which  you  would  insinuate.  He  calls  them 
such,  not  absolutely,  but  relatively  :  Not  in 
themselves,  but  with  respect  to  ;m  affair  in- 
finitely too  great  for  them  to  transact,  either 
in  whole  or  in  part.  In  this  view  (as  rela- 
tive to  justification)  St.  Paul  calls  them 
dung,  which  is  despicable  and  sordid.  Sure- 
ly then  Aspasio  may  call  them  bubbles, 
which  are  showy  but  insignificant.  I  do 
not  call  the  desk  on  which  I  write,  a  mere 
egg-shell :  Yet  I  should  not  hesitate  to  say, 
it  is  scanty  as  an  egg-shell,  if  appointed  to 
transj)ort  an  army  to  the  Indies  ;  feeble  as 
an  egg-shell,  if  set  up  as  a  wall  of  munition 
against  a  battery  of  cannon. 

"  1  low  must  Christians  exceed  the  Scribes 
and  I'harisccs?"  'I'o  this  Asjja.sio  replies  : 
"  Nut  only  in  licing  sincere,  in  having  re- 


506 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


spect  unto  all  God's  commandments ;  but 
al&o  ill  possessing  a  complete  righteousness. 
Nor  can  this  be  any  thing  less  than  the  per- 
fect obedience  of  our  great  Mediator." — 
"  Did  our  Lord  mean  this?  Nothing  less." 
Peremptorily  affirmed;  but  not  so  easily 
proved.  Yes,  you  add  ;  "  He  specifies  in 
the  following  parts  of  his  sermon  the  very 
instances  wherein  the  righteousness  of  a 
Christian  exceeds  that  of  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees."  He  does  so.  But  is  it  not  an 
absolutely  complete  righteousness  ?  A 
meekness,  without  the  least  emotion  of  re- 
eentment.  A  purity  without  the  least  strain 
of  evil  concupiscence  A  love,  a  long-suf- 
fering, a  perfection,  such  as  our  Father 
which  is  in  heaven  exercises.  Now,  if  this 
does  not  exceed  the  righteousness  of  all  the 
Christians  in  the  world,  or  if  this  is  to  be 
found  in  any  character,  save  only  in  the 
character  of  our  great  ]\Iediator,  I  retract, 
most  freely  retract,  my  opinion. 

The  discourse  relates  to  that  righteous- 
ness by  which  we  are  saved,  or  by  virtue  of 
v.'hich  we  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
And  why.  Sir,  why  will  you  not  resign  the 
honour  of  obtaining  salvation,  to  the  most 
blessed  Immaimel's  blood  and  obedience? 
Why  will  you  hedge  up  your  people's  way 
to  the  immortal  mansions,  by  teaching  them 
to  depend  upon  duties  and  attainments  of 
their  own  ?  Should  any  one,  hearing  this 
doctrine,  that  the  law  of  the  ten  command- 
ments requires  perfect,  sinless  obedience  ; 
that  none  can  be  delivered  from  the  wrath 
to  come,  or  enjoy  eternal  life,  \nthout  this 
unsinning,  perfect  obedience  ;  should  such 
a  one,  struck  with  surprise  and  anxiety,  in- 
quire, "  Who  then  can  be  saved?" — what 
answer  would  Mr.  Wesley  give  ?  The  an- 
swer we  would  make  is  obvious,  and  full  of 
consolation  :  "No  man,  by  bis  own  perform- 
ances. But  salvation  is  to  be  sought,  sal- 
vation is  to  be  obtained,  by  the  i-ighteous- 
ness  of  another, — even  by  the  consummate 
obedience  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

"  He  brings  this  specious  hypocrite  to 
the  test." — "  How  does  it  appear,  (you  ask), 
that  this  young  ruler  was  a  hypocrite  ?"  It 
appears  from  his  conduct,  for  he  came  kneel- 
ing to  oiu-  Saviour,  as  one  sincerely  desir- 
ous of  learning  bis  duty ;  yet,  when  instruct- 
ed in  it,  he  would  not  perform  it.  It  ap- 
pears from  your  own  character  of  him.  You 
say,  "  He  loved  the  world."  Then  the  love 
of  the  Father  was  not  in  him.  That  he 
pretended  to  the  love  of  God,  is  evident 
from  his  own  words  :  That  he  had  no  real 
love,  is  certain  from  your  o\Yi\  acknowledg- 
ment. If  pretence  without  reality  be  not 
hypocris}',  please  to  inform  us  what  is.  It 
is  f^rlhei  apparent,  from  your  descant  on 
the  case  :  "  Therefore  he  could  not  keep 
<-ny  ot  the  commandments  in  their  spiritual 
sense."    And  it  is  a  sure,  as  well  as  impor- 


tant truth,  that  wnosoever  pretends  to  keep 
the  commandments,  yet  does  not  keep  them 
in  their  spiritual  meaning,  is  a  deceiver  of 
himself,  a  deceiver  of  others — a  hypocrite. 

"  The  keeping  of  the  commandments, 
(says  ]\Ir.  Wesley,)  is  undoubtedly  the  way 
to,  though  not  the  cause  of,  eternal  life." 
How  then  came  it  to  pass  that  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  should  declare,  "  I  am  the 
way  ?"  The  way  to  what  ?  To  the  favour 
of  God,  to  the  fruition  of  God,  to  every 
spiritual  blessing  ;  or,  in  other  words,  to 
eternal  life.  After  such  a  claim,  from  such 
a  person,  may  I  not,  without  the  imputation 
of  undue  confidence,  deny  your  assertion  in 
your  own  form  of  speech  ?  "  The  keeping 
of  the  commandments  undoubtedly  cannot 
be  the  way  to  eternal  life  ;"  since  this  is  an 
honour,  this  is  a  prerogative,  which  the  all- 
glorious  Redeemer  has  challenged  to  him- 
self. 

Hence  your  distinction  bet\veen  the  way 
to,  and  the  cause  of,  appears  to  have  no 
countenance  from  Scripture.  And  will  it 
not,  upon  a  review,  appear  to  have  as  little 
support  from  reason  ?  Cast  your  eye  upon 
yonder  bridge  : — It  is  thrown  over  a  deep 
and  wide  river  ;  it  is  the  way,  the  only  way, 
whereby  I  cross  the  water,  and  arrive  at  the 
opposite  bank.  If  so,  is  it  not  likewise  the 
cause  of  my  safe  arrival  on  the  other  side  ? 
There  may  be,  in  this  case,  other  causes, 
concomitant  or  subordinate  :  but  the  bridge 
is  the  grand  one  ;  that  which  every  body 
chiefly  regards,  and  to  which  my  passage  is 
always  ascribed. 

Christ  therefore  is  the  way,  the  only  way, 
to  life  and  immortality.  By  his  precious 
blood,  and  by  his  divine  righteousness,  we 
pass  the  gulf  of  wrath  and  destruction.  By 
the  things  which  he  has  done,  by  the  pains 
which  he  has  endured,  we  enter  the  realms 
of  peace  and  joy.  Accordingly,  we  are  ex- 
horted "  to  walk  in  him;"  and  are  assured,  that 
as  many  as  walk  in  this  way  "  shall  renew 
their  strength."  This  is  what  the  apostle 
calls  "  the  new  and  living  way."  This  is 
what  the  Psulmist  styles  "  the  way  ever- 
lasting ;"  and  though  other  ways  may  "  seem 
right  unto  a  man,  yet  the  end  thereof  are 
the  ways  of  death."  J 

A  doubt,  perhaps,  may  arise  in  the  rea- 
der's mind,  suggested  by  the  words  of  the 
prophet,  "  an  highway  shall  be  there,  and 
a  way,  and  it  shall  be  called  the  way  of  ho- 
liness." True.  The  way  is  Christ  the  in- 
carnate God,  with  all  his  gifts,  privileges, 
and  blessings.  "  It  shall  be  called  the  way 
of  holiness."  Isa.  xxxv-  8.*  None  can  en- 
ter and  advance  therein,  yet  continue  car- 
nal a.id  unclean.  All  that  travel  this  road 
renounce  the  hidden  things  of  darkness,  and 


»  Keo  a  tixat.se  by  Dr.  Owen,  entitled  Communion 
uith  God. 


REV.  Mil.   WESLEY. 


507 


do  the  works  of  righteousues.s.  It  does  not 
indeed  find,  but  it  assuredly  makes  the  pas- 
sengers righteous ;  and  though  holiness  is 
not  their  way,  yet  it  is  a  principal  part  of 
their  business  while  they  walk  in  Christ. 

As])asio,  having  occasion  to  speak  of 
Abraham's  faith,  (piotes  the  word  of  the 
apostle,  "  By  works  his  faith  was  made  per- 
fect." Which  he  thus  explains,  "  His  faith 
hereby  answered  its  proper  end,  and  appear- 
ed to  be  of  the  true,  of  the  triumphant,  the 
scriptural  kind  ;  since  it  overcame  the  world, 
overcame  self,  and  regarded  God  as  all  in 
all.'"  To  this  ]\Ir.  Wesley  replies,  with  the 
solemnity  of  a  censor,  and  the  authority  of 
a  dictator,  "  No.  The  natural  sense  of 
the  words  is,  by  the  grace  superadded,  while 
he  wrought  those  works,  his  faith  was  lite- 
r.iUy  made  perfect."  Your  proof,  Sir. 
What  have  you  to  mal;e  good  this  interpre- 
tation ?  There  is  not  a  word  in  the  text 
about  grace  superadded,  this  is  not  assigned 
as  the  cause  of  a  perfected  faith.  Nay,  the 
sacred  writer  expressly  assigns  another : 
"  By  works,"  says  St.  James,  "  his  faith  vras 
made  perfect."  No,  says  Mr.  Wesley ;  but 
by  grace  superadded.  St.  James  affirms  one 
thing,  Mr.  'Wesley  affirms  the  contrary ; 
and  who  am  I  that  1  should  decide  between 
two  such  disputants?  But  I  believe  the 
reader  will,  without  my  interposal,  easily 
choose  his  side. 

Perhaps  you  will  reply,  If  this  is  not  the 
true  sense,  produce  a  better.  One  less  op- 
posite to  the  natural  import  of  the  words, 
and  the  a])parent  meaning  of  the  apostle,  is 
ab'eady  produced.  Do  you  insist  upon  an- 
other ?  I  will  then  refer  you  to  abler  judges. 
Shall  I  send  to  an  expositor  whom  you  your- 
self admire  ?  Dr.  Doddridge  thus  comments 
upon  the  text,  "  His  faith  was  perfected  by 
works ;  the  integrity  of  it  was  made  fully 
apparent  to  himself,  to  angels,  to.  God." 
Shall  I  remit  you  to  an  expositor  who  can 
neither  deceive  nor  be  deceived  ?  The  God 
of  gloiy  says,  "  My  strength  is  made  perfect 
in  weakness."  Jlade  perfect!  How?  Is 
there  any  such  thing  as  a  supperaddition  to 
God  Almighty's  power,  while  he  exerts  it 
in  behalf  of  his  people  ?  This  none  can  ima- 
gine. But  it  is  hereby  manifested,  to  their 
comfort  and  his  glory.  The  same  word  is 
used  concerning  Abraham's  faith,  and  con- 
cerning the  God  of  Abraham's  strength. 
Why  then  should  it  not  be  understood  in 
the  same  sense  ?  Here  it  is  TiXuvrai ;  there 
it  is  niXuaiSyi.  And  in  both  jdaces  it  signi- 
fies, not  literally  "  made  perfect,"  but  illus- 
triously displayed. 

Shall  I  send  you  to  a  familiar  illustration  ? 
I  view  from  my  window  a  young  tree.  The 
gardener  when  he  planted  it,  told  me  it  was 
a  fruit-tree,  a  ])ear-trec,  a  right  Iwaiitc  dv 
roi.  It  may  be  such  a  tree,  and  have  its 
respective  seed  iu  itself;  but  this  did  not 


then  appear.  If,  when  autumn  arrives,  its 
branches  are  laden  with  fruit,  with  pears, 
with  that  delicious  kind  of  pears,  this  will 
be  a  demonstration  of  all  those  properties. 
This  will  not  make  it  such  a  particular  tree, 
no,  nor  make  it  a  good  and  fruitful  tree ; 
but  only  shew  it  to  be  of  that  line  sort,  or 
make  its  nature  and  perfections  evident. 

"  St  James  speaks  of  the  justification  of 
our  faith  ;"  thus  proceeds  Aspasio  :  and 
thus  replies  Mr.  Wesley  ;  "  Not  unless  you 
mean  by  that  odd  expression,  our  faith  being 
made  perfect."  I  mean,  such  a  perfection 
of  faith  as  is  mentioned  above.  Other  per- 
fection I  find  not,  either  in  books  or  men. 
Were  faith  perfect,  in  your  sense  of  the 
word,  love,  joy,  and  all  holiness  would  be 
perfect  likewise.  Correspondent  to  the 
principle  would  be  the  state  of  the  produc- 
tion. There  would  be  no  longer  any  cause 
for  that  petition  which  the  discii)les  put 
up,  "Lord,  increase  our  faith:"  Nor  for 
that  supplication  which  you  and  I,  so  long 
as  we  continue  members  of  the  Church  of 
England,  nuist  use,  "  Give  unto  us  the  in- 
crease of  faith,  hope,  and  charity." 

You  call  the  justification  of  our  faith  an 
"  odd  expression."  Is  it  not  founded  on  the 
tenor  of  the  apostle's  discourse?  Is  it  not 
the  native  result  of  the  apostle's  inquiry, 
"  Shew  me  thy  faith  ?"  Prove  it  to  be  real 
and  unfeigned  :  prove  it  by  such  acts  as  de- 
monstrate you  trust  in  Jesus  alone  for  ever- 
lasting life.  If  it  stands  this  test,  we  shall 
acknowledge  it  to  be  that  precious  faith 
whose  author  is  God,  and  whose  end  is  sal- 
vation. Is  not  that  a  justification  of  faith, 
which  displays  its  sincerity,  and  renders  it 
without  rebuke  ?  Somewhat  like  this  would 
be  reckoned  a  justification  of  any  person,  or 
of  any  other  thing  ;  and  why  not  of  faith  ? 

Something  you  see.  Sir,  may  be  said  in 
vindication  of  this  expression.  However,  if 
it  be  thought  improper ;  if  it  tend  to  create 
any  confusion  in  our  sentiments,  or  to  draw 
off  our  attention  from  that  grand  idea  which 
is  peculiar  to  the  word  justification,  (the 
idea,  I  mean,  of  being  made  righteous  before 
(iod),  I  freely  give  it  up  ;  I  will  alter  it  in 
my  book,  and  use  it  no  more. 

"  He  that  doeth  righteousness,  is  right- 
eous." He  manifests  the  truth  of  his  con- 
version, and  justifies  his  profession  from  all 
suspicion  of  insincerity.  "  Nay,"  says  ^Ir. 
Wesley,  "  the  plain  meaning  is,  he  alone  is 
truly  righteous,  whose  faith  worketh  by  love." 
Your  exposition  may  be  true,  and  Asi)asio's 
no  less  trne.  1  leave  the  reader  to  deter- 
mine which  is  most  exactly  suitable  to  the 
apostle's  arguing.  He  is  speaking  of  the 
tUiristian  righteousness  ;  that  which  renders 
us  riglitouus  i)cfore  God  ;  that  which  flesh 
and  blood  conld  never  have  discovered ; 
which  therefore  was  graciously  revealed  in 
the  gospel,  and  is  the  principal  subject  of 


,503 


LETTERS  TO   THE 


gospel  preacliiiig.  As  then  there  were,  and 
always  would  be,  many  pretenders  to  the 
noble  privilege,  St  John  lays  down  a  maxim 
or  a  touch-stone,  to  distinguish  the  sincere 
from  the  hypocrite.  He  that  iniiformly 
doeth  righteousness  in  a  way  of  sanctifica- 
tion,  he,  and  he  only,  is  to  be  acknowledged 
by  us  as  truly  rigiiteous  by  way  of  justifica- 
tion. 

Far  be  it  from  me.  Sir,  to  be  fond  of 
wrangling.  Where  you  hit  upon  the  truth, 
or  come  pretty  near  it,  I  shall  never  be 
eager  to  oppose.  On  the  contrary,  I  shall 
be  very  desirous  to  agree,  and  preserve  as 
much  as  possible,  both  the  unity  of  opinion 
and  the  harmony  of  affection.  Your  own 
interpretation  shall  take  place  ;  only  let  your 
working  be  the  sign  and  fruit  of  a  righteous 
state,  not  that  which  makes  or  constitutes 
us  righteous.  The  righteousness  of  fallen 
creatures  is  not  of  themselves,  but  of  me, 
saith  the  Lord.  It  is  brought  in  and  ac- 
complished by  him  whom  God  hath  set 
forth  to  be  their  mediator  and  surety ;  so 
that  we  are  made  righteous,  not  by  doing 
any  thing  whatsoever,  but  solely  by  be- 
lieving in  Jesus.  Our  character  as  the  re- 
deemed of  the  Lord,  is  oi  m  -virioi  %  men 
having  their  existence,  their  subsistence, 
their  all,  by  faith.  Hence  it  comes  to  pass, 
that  we  really  are  what  the  apostle  afHrms 
in  the  following  words,  "righteous,  even 
as  he  is  righteous  ■"  not  barely  righteous,  as 
the  moral  Heathens,  by  dint  of  human  reso- 
lution ;  not  barely  righteous,  as  the  reputa- 
ble Jews,  by  the  intiuence  of  their  legal 
sanctions  ;  but  righteous  with  that  very 
righteousness  which  adorns,  and  exalts,  and 
will  eternally  distinguish  the  only  begotten 
Son  of  God. 

It  remains  to  be  inquired,  what  faith  is 
most  likely  to  operate  in  this  excellent  and 
happy  manner  ?  I  mean,  to  work  by  love. 
Let  me  illustrate  the  point  by  a  short  apo- 
logue ;  then  release  the  reader  from  his  at- 
tention, and  the  writer  from  his  task. 

A  certain  king  had  two  favourites,  whom 
he  honom'ed  with  his  peculiar  regard,  and 
enriched  with  a  ceaseless  liberality.  They 
both,  insensible  of  their  vast  obligations, 
became  traitors  and  rebels.  Being  convict- 
ed of  treason  against  their  sovereigv,  he  was 
determined  to  evercome  their  evil  with  good. 
Accordingly,  when  they  had  nothing  to 
plead  in  their  own  behalf,  he  generously 
forgave  them  both  :  The  one  he  dismissed 
from  prison,  and  suffered  to  live  unmolest- 
ed on  his  private  inheritance ;  the  other  he 
restored  to  all  his  high  preferments,  and 
public  employs — he  adorned  him  again  with 
the  robe  of  honour,  and  admitted  him  again 
into  the  bosom  of  favour. —  AVhich  of  them 
now  will  feel  the  wannest  affection  for 
their  sovereign  ?  which  of  them  will  be  most 
iwidy  to  serve  him  on  uU  occasions,  and,  if 


need  be,  to  hazard  even  life  in  his  defence  ? 
He,  doubtless,  on  whom  most  was  bestowed. 

And  is  not  that  person  most  likely  to 
work  and  obey  from  a  principle  of  love, 
who  believes  that  his  divine  Lord  has  not 
only  borne  the  curse,  but  fulfilled  the  di- 
vine law  for  him  ?  has  given  him  not  barely 
an  exemption  from  punishment,  but  a  title 
to  eternal  life  ?  Yea,  has  clothed  him  with 
his  own  most  perfect  and  glorious  righte- 
ousness ;  by  virtue  of  which  he  will,  ere 
long,  be  presented  faultless  before  the 
throne  of  judgment,  and  have  an  abundant 
entrance  into  the  everlasting  kingdom.  Will 
not  the  faith  of  such  unspeakably  rich  grace 
pacify  the  conscience,  and  purify  the  heart  ? 
Awaken  gratitude  to  our  heavenly  benefac- 
tor, and  enkindle  zeal  for  his  glory  ?  Cause 
us  to  discharge  all  the  duties  of  our  station 
cheerfully,  and  withstand  every  allurement 
to  evil  resolutely  ? 

Surely  we  may  say  of  this  faith,  what 
David  said  of  Goliath's  sword.  There  is 
none,  there  is  nothing  like  it.  For  all 
these  blessed  purposes  it  is  beyond  com- 
pare, and,  I  should  think,  beyond  dispute 
efficacious.  That  you,  Sir,  may  know  more 
of  this  faith,  and  dispute  less  against  it,  is 
the  sincere  and  fervent  wish  of,  &c. 


LETTER  VL 

Reverend  Sir, — As  this  Letter  may 
probably  be  pretty  long,  I  shall  not  increase 
the  prolixity  by  a  preface,  but  enter  upon  it, 
without  any  farther  introduction. 

"  Whoso  doeth  these  things  (saith  Da- 
vid) shall  never  fall."  Which  Aspasio  thus 
interprets,  "  Shall  never  fall  into  final  apos- 
tasy." You  are  jjleased  to  reply,  "  David 
says  no  such  thing  ;  his  meaning  is,  whoso 
doeth  these  things  to  the  end,  shall  never 
fall  into  hell."  It  would  be  a  great  won- 
der, I  must  own,  if  he  should ;  but  if  he 
happens  to  fail  at  some  times,  and  in  soma 
instances,  what  becomes  of  him  then?  How- 
ever, let  you  and  I,  Sir,  be  at  as  little  vari- 
ance as  possible.  Where  is  the  extraordi- 
nary difference  between  yourself  and  Aspa- 
sio ?  If  a  professor  of  religion  fiills  into  hell, 
must  he  not  pi'eviously  fall  into  final  apos- 
tasy? And  if  he  falls  into  final  aposta.s}', 
must  he  not  inevitably  fall  into  hell  ? 

When  you  insert  the  clause,  "  to  the 
end,"  do  you  interpret  ?  do  you  not  rather 
interpolate  the  sacred  text?  The  words  of 
the  Psiilmist  relate  to  the  present  time, 
doeth,  not  shaU  do.  They  contain  an  en- 
couragement to  those  who,  at  this  present 
instant,  bring  forth  the  fruits  of  evangelical 
righteousness.  The  encouragement  is  de- 
duced fi-om  the  comfortable  doctrine  of  final 
perseverance.  It  carries  this  cheering  im- 
port,  "  Whosoever  believes  in  Jehovah,  tus 


REV.  MFu  WESLEY. 


509 


l;»y1ng  all  liis  sins  upon  Clirist,  and  givinp; 
liini  ctcniiil  life  fict'ly  ;  wIiosocvlt,  IVom 
tliis  principle  of  faitl),  siiu-crcly  loves,  and 
willingly  obeys  God,  he  shall  never  fall." 
The  words  are,  "  he  shall  never  lie  moved." 
A  phrase  common  among  the  Hebrews  to 
denote  the  stability  of  a  man's  hajipiness. 
An  immoveable  thing  never  falls,  either  one 
way  or  other  ;  so  this  righteous  person  shall 
never  fall,  cither  into  tinal  apof;tasy,  which 
is  the  greatest  misery  here,  or  into  hell, 
which  is  the  consummation  of  misery  here- 
after. 

But  I  begin  to  apprehend  what  you  mean, 
and  of  what  you  arc  jealous.  Your  excla- 
mation unravels  all,  "  How  pleashig  is  this 
to  flesh  and  blood  !"  Under  favour.  Sir,  I 
cannot  conceive  how  this  doctrine  should 
be  pleasing  to  flesh  and  blood.  Flesh  and 
blood,  or  corrupt  nature,  is  proud.  Any 
scheme  of  perseverance  to  be  accomplished 
by  our  own  strength,  would  indeed  be  agree- 
able to  the  vanity  of  our  mind;  but  a  per- 
severance founded  on  the  iidelity  and  the 
power  of  God — a  perseverance  which  ac- 
knowledges itself  owing,  not  to  any  human 
suftlciency,  but  to  an  union  with  Christ,  and 
the  intercession  of  Christ — this  is  a  disgust- 
ing method — that  is  what  the  natural  man 
cannot  away  with.  You  will  find  the  ge- 
nerality of  people  utterly  averse  to  it. 
Flesh  and  blood  will  not  submit  either  to 
be  made  righteous  before  God  by  the  im- 
puted righteousness  of  Christ,  or  to  be  made 
faithful  unto  death  by  the  never-failing 
faithfulness  of  Christ.  Try  your  friends, 
try  your  followers,  try  your  own  heart  on 
this  point. 

To  the  humble  believer,  I  acknowledge, 
this  is  a  most  pleasing  and  consolatory  doc- 
trine. He  who  feels  his  own  impotence, 
who  knows  the  power  of  his  inbred  corrup- 
tions, and  is  no  stranger  to  the  wiles  of  his 
spiritual  enemy :  he  will  rejoice  in  the 
thought  that  nothing  shall  pluck  him  out 
of  his  almighty  Redeeemer's  hand ;  that 
liis  advocate  with  the  Fatlier  will  suffer 
neither  jirincipalities,  nor  powers,  nor  life, 
nor  death,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to 
come,  nor  any  other  creature,  to  separate 
him  from  the  love  of  God.  Without  such 
a  persuasion,  we  might  too  truly  say  of  the 
Christian's  joy,  what  Solomon  said  of  world- 
ly merriment,  "  1  said  of  laughter,  it  is  mad ; 
and  of  mirth,  what  does  it  ?"  If  he  who 
is  to-day  basking  in  the  divine  favour,  may 
before  the  morrow  be  weltering  in  a  lake  of 
fire,  then  joy,  even  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost, 
is  unreasonable ;  and  peace,  even  that  peace 
which  passeth  all  understanding,  is  chimer- 
ical,— a  building  without  a  basis  ;  at  least, 
a  bowing  wall,  and  a  tottering  fence. 

Let  us  examine  the  doctrine  which  Mr. 
"W(!slcy  says  is  so  pleasing  to  flesh  and 
blood  ;  or,  in  other  words,  to  carnal  people. 


'^VTiat  is  the  thing  which  the  Psilmist 
teaches,  and  Aspasio  professes?  That  the 
persons  who  are  described  in  the  Psalm," 
shall  never  apostatize  from  the  true  faith, 
or  from  true  obedience.  Is  this  so  agreea- 
ble to  carnal  people  ?  Is  it  not  rather  un- 
warrantable  in  Mr.  Wesley  to  suppose  that 
carnal  people  either  possess  true  faith,  or 
perform  true  obedience,  or  can  be  pleased 
with  either  ?  Especially  since  the  apostle 
assures  us  that  the  "  carnal  mind  is  not  sub- 
ject to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can 
be." 

Besides,  are  not  the  duties  mentioned  by 
the  Psalmist  offensive  to  flesh  and  blood  ? 
Do  they  not  require,  or  imply,  the  mortifi- 
cation of  our  carnal  appetites,  and  the  disci-- 
pline  of  our  unruly  affections  ?  On  it  be 
a  welcome  piece  of  news  to  flesh  and  blood, 
that  this  mortification  shall  take  place  ?  in- 
stead of  being  remitted,  shall  increase?  and 
never,  never  be  discontinued,  till  mortality 
is  swallowed  up  of  life  ?  If  so,  the  old  man 
which  is  corrupt  must  be  pleased  with  the 
curb,  and  the  dagger  must  delight  in  its  own 
restraint,  and  its  own  destruction.  Such  a 
paradox  we  must  believe  before  we  can  es- 
pouse Mr.  Wesley's  notion.  That  flesh  and 
blood  are  pleased  with  the  doctrine  of  a  fin- 
al perseverance  in  self-denial,  in  righteous- 
ness, and  true  holiness. 

"  Should  your  repentance  be  without  a 
failure,  and  without  a  flaw,  I  must  still  say 
to  my  friend,  as  our  Lord  replied  to  the 
young  ruler,  '  One  thing  thou  lackest'  In 
all  these  acts  of  humiliation,  you  have  only 
taken  shame  to  yourself;  whereas,  a  righte- 
ousness is  wanting,  which  may  magnify  the 
law,  and  make  it  honourable."  These  are 
Aspasio's  words  ;  u])on  which  Mr.  Wesley 
animadverts  :  "  One  thing  thou  lackest,  the 
imputed  righteousness  of  Christ  !  You 
cannot  think  this  is  the  meaning  of  the  text. " 
Neither  does  Aspasio  aftiim  this  to  be  the 
meaning ;  he  only  uses  the  words  by  way  of 
accommodation.  Coifld  you  demonstrate 
that  our  Lord  intended  no  sirch  thing,  yet 
the  sentence  may  not  improperly  express 
Aspasio's  opinion  ;  and  if  so,  be  not  unfit 
for  his  use. 

However,  let  us  inquire  into  the  exact 
meaning  of  the  text.  A  very  little  search 
will  yield  the  desired  satisfaction. — "  Sell 
all  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  thou 
shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven."  Treasure 
in  heaven  was  what  the  young  gentleman 
lacked.  Could  this  be  any  other  than 
Christ  himself?  Is  not  Christ  the  treasure 
hid  in  the  field  of  the  gospel  ?  Is  not  Christ 
the  inheritance  reserved  in  heaven  for  us  ? 
Is  not  a  communion  with  Christ,  and  an  en- 


•  The  xvth  Psalm,  I  apprehend,  describes  the  per- 
fect character :  That  perrection  which  Christ  really 
fuUilled  ;  and  is  the  righteousness  in  which  God  is 

well  pleased. 


510 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


joyment  of  Christ,  the  supreme  felicity  of 
our  nature  ?  David  was  of  this  mind  when 
he  publicly  declared,  "  AVhom  have  I  in 
heaven  but  thee  ?"  St.  John  was  of  this 
mind  when  he  solemnly  averred,  "  He  that 
hath  the  Son,  hath  life."  Whoever  is  of 
another  mind,  has  very  inadequate,  very  un- 
worthy notions  of  heaven  and  its  happiness. 
Now,  if  Christ  himself  was  the  one  thing 
needed,  surely  his  righteousness  coidd  not 
be  secluded.  His  blood  and  obedience  in- 
separably accompany  his  person.  He  that 
hath  the  bridegroom,  hath  his  riches  also. 

In  opposition  to  this  sense  it  is  affirmed, 
"  Certainly  the  one  thing  our  Lord  meant 
was  the  love  of  God."  The  love  of  God 
is  certainly  an  eminent  blessing ;  possess- 
ed, I  should  imagine,  only  by  those  who 
have  first  obtained  eternal  life,  by  knowing 
the  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ.  But  does 
our  love  of  God  magnify  the  law,  satisfy 
justice,  or  obtain  heaven  ?  Are  we  par- 
doned, are  we  reconciled,  are  we  justified, 
on  account  of  our  love  of  God  ?  The 
yoiuig  ruler  wants  that  which  may  open  to 
him  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  that  where- 
by he  may  inherit  eternal  life.  Mr.  Wes- 
ley, setting  aside  pardon,  reconciliation,  jus- 
tification, together  with  the  one  peifect 
righteousness  which  procures  them,  ascribes 
all  to  our  love  of  God  ;  and,  by  this  means, 
not  to  the  true  love  arising  from  the  know- 
ledge of  him  as  manifested  in  the  gospel,  as 
having  first  loved  us,  in  granting  us  remis- 
sion of  sins  freely  through  Jesus  Christ. 
This  notion  may  pass  current  at  Rome,  not 
among  the  Protestant  churches.  Our  own 
church  has  most  expressly  disclaimed  it. 
Speaking  of  Christ  and  his  precious  blood- 
shedding,  she  adds,  "  Whereby  alone  we 
are  made  partakers  of  the  kingdom  of  hea- 
ven." 

"  Is  the  obedience  of  Christ  insufficient 
to  accomplish  oiu"  justification  ?"  Here  you 
would  correct  both  the  langiiage  and  the 
doctrine.  TTie  language  ;  for  you  say,  "ra- 
ther I  would  ask,  is  the  death  of  Christ  in- 
sufficient to  piu-chase  it."  To  purchase  ]\is- 
tification,  you  suppose,  is  more  proper  and 
expressive  than  to  accomplish.  As  this  may 
seem  a  strife  of  words,  I  shall  dismiss  it 
without  much  solicitude ;  only  I  would 
transiently  observe,  that  to  accomplish  de- 
notes more  than  to  purchase.  It  denotes 
the  constituent  cause  ;  what  the  schoolmen 
call  the  matter  of  justification,  or  the  very 
thing  which  efl^ects  it.  If  your  favourite 
phrase  implies  all  this,  let  it  have  the  pre- 
eminence. 

Next  you  correct  the  doctrine  by  saying, 
"  I  would  rather  ask,  is  the  death  of  Clir'st 
insufficient  to  purchase  justification?"  I  an- 
swer, if  you  consider  the  death  of  Christ  as 
exclusive  of  his  obedience,  it  is  insufficient. 
If  you  do  not,  there  is  no  great  reason  for 


your  starting  a  doubt  where  we  both  are  a- 
greed  ;  and  indeed,  it  is  scarce  worth  my 
while  to  take  notice  of  it.  I  will,  therefore, 
return  to  the  distinction  which  you  think 
proper  to  make  between  accomplishing  and 
purchasing  justification.  Why,  Sir,  would 
you  set  aside  the  former  phrase  ?  Does  it 
not  imply,  that  which  justifies  ;  that  very 
thing  which  commends  us  to  God ;  that 
very  righteousness  in  which  we  stand  accept- 
ed before  him  ?  Does  not  this  way  of  ex- 
pressing guard  most  effectually  against  the 
errors  of  Popery,  and  exclude  all  co-efficien- 
cy of  faith,  of  works,  or  any  thing  else  what- 
ever ?  I  said,  the  errors  of  Popery  :  For  a 
Popish  synod  will  allow  that  we  are  not  jus- 
tified without  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  by 
which  he  hath  merited  justification  for  us  ; 
but  declares  at  the  same  time,  If  any  man 
shall  say  we  are  formally  righteous  by  that 
very  righteousness,  let  him  be  accursed.  Ac- 
cording to  this,  which  is  no  very  good  con- 
fession, the  righteousness  of  Christ  pur- 
chases, but  does  not  accomplish  ;  it  merits 
our  justification,  but  does  not  constitute  our 
justifying  righteousness.  See,  Sir,  whither 
your  refinements  are  leading  you. 

"  The  saints  in  glory,"  says  Aspasio,  "  as- 
cribe the  whole  of  their  salvation  to  the 
blood  of  the  Lamb.''  "  So  do  J,"  replies 
Mr  Wesley ;  "  and  yet  I  believe  he  obtain- 
ed for  all  a  possibility  of  salvation."  Is  this 
objection  pertinent  ?  Does  Aspasio's  asser- 
tion contradict  your  belief?  Does  it  not  com- 
prise all  that  you  avouch,  and  much  more  ? 
Is  it  possible  that  Mr  Wesley,  who  is  such 
a  master  of  logic,  should  argue  in  this  man- 
ner, *'  The  saints  in  glory  ascribe  all  their 
salvation  to  Christ's  blood ;  therefore  he 
did  not  obtain  a  possibility  of  salvation  for 
all  men?"  What  a  forced  conclusion  is  this  ' 
What  wild  reasoning  is  here  !  Such  pre- 
mises, and  buch  an  inference,  will  probably 
incline  the  reader  to  think  of  a  sunbeam  and 
a  clod  connected  with  bands  of  smoke. 

If  you  was  determined  to  make  this  pas- 
sage faulty,  you  should  have  opposed  it  with 
the  following  declaration  of  your  faith :  "  Yet 
I  believe  that  Christ  obtained  no  more  than 
a  possibility  of  salvation  for  any."  Then 
you  would  have  something  suited  to  your 
purpose  ;  but  not  agreeable  either  to  sound 
sense  or  sound  doctrine.  Not  to  sound 
sense :  Your  possibility  of  salvation  is,  if 
people  perform  the  conditions.  How  then 
can  they  ascribe  the  whole  glory  to  Christ  ? 
At  this  rate,  they  do  a  piece  of  injustice  to 
their  own  resolution  and  diligence;  as  these, 
by  fulfilling  the  conditions,  had  a  hand  in 
obtaining  the  reward,  these  ought  to  have  a 
share  in  receiving  the  honour.  Not  to  sound 
doctrine:  Aspasio  believes  much  more  than 
a  j)ossibility  of  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ. 
He  iielieves  a  full  and  complete  salvation, 
according-  to  that  noble  text,  "  It  is  fiiiislicd," 


REV.  MR.   ^VESLEY. 


611 


A  salvation  not  to  be  ncquired,  but  absohite- 
ly  given,  according  to  that  precious  Scrip- 
ture, "  God  liatli  giveu  to  us  eternal  life  ;" 
not  upon  some  terms  or  prerequisites,  but 
without  any  condition  at  all,  according  to 
that  most  gracious  invitation,  "  Whoever 
will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely." 
I'liis  1  look  ujiou  as  soinid  doctrine.  But 
will  your  notion  of  a  conditional  salvation, 
proposed  by  way  of  bargain,  and  granted  up- 
on terms,  comport  with  this  gift  of  grace  ? 

No  more  than  a  possibility  of  salvation  ! 
Yes,  Sir,  Christ  obtained  a  great  and  a  free 
salvation.  Great:  for  it  comprises  the  par- 
don of  all  sin,  original  and  actual;  a  restora- 
tion to  entire  and  inialterable  favour,  together 
with  a  title  to  everlasting  life  and  glory. 
This  is  such  a  provision  for  our  happiness 
as  becomes  the  immense  goodness  and  in- 
conceivable majesty  of  an  incarnate  God  ; 
such  as  not  only  supplies  our  wants,  and 
satisfies  our  desires,  but  surpasses  our  very 
wishes — transporting  us  with  wonder,  and 
filling  us  with  joy.  To  accomplish  all  this, 
we  may  reasonably  suppose,  nothing  less 
could  be  sufficient  than  the  active  and  ])as- 
sive  righteousness  of  him  who  is  gone  into 
heaven  ;  angels,  and  authorities,  and  powers 
being  made  subject  unto  him.  Since  this 
matchless  ransom  has  been  paid,  since  these 
grand  conditions  are  performed,  there  is  no 
obstruction  from  the  divine  justice,  or  tlie 
divine  truth.  All  that  ineffable  and  eternal 
blessedness  is  now  become  free ;  is  granted 
to  sinners,  to  rebels,  to  the  most  unworthy ; 
they  are  allowed,  yea,  invited  to  receive  it, 
to  possess  it,  to  rejoice  in  it  as  their  own 
portion ;  and  without  the  proviso  of  any 
good  thing  in  themselves,  purely  on  account 
of  their  Saviour's  all-sufficient  work. 

I  read  in  sacred  history  of  Eleazar,  the 
son  of  Dodo  the  Ahohite,  one  of  the  three 
mighty  men  with  David  ;  how  he  arose  and 
smote  the  I'hilistines,  initil  his  hand  was 
weary,  and  liis  hand  clave  unto  his  sword  ; 
andtlK!  Lord  wrought  a  great  victory  that  day; 
and  the  ))eople  returned  after  him,  only  to 
spoil.  And  were  not  these  mighty  men  typi- 
cal, faintly  typical,  of  our  almighty  Redeemer? 
Did  not  Jesus  also  arise  and  work  a  great 
victory?  Has  he  not  triunii)hed  gloriously 
over  sin,  and  all  our  enemies  ?  And  what 
have  we  to  do  but  oidy  to  return  and  divide 
the  spoil,  and  share  the  benefits  of  his  con- 
quest ?  May  we  not  boldly  say,  "  My  sin  is 
done  away,  because  Christ  has  borne  it  on 
the  cursed  tree.  I  stand  accepted  before 
God,  because  Christ  has  finished  the  right- 
eousness which  renders  me  unhlaiiiable  and 
unreproveable.  I  shall  receive  the  Holy 
Ghost,  because  Christ  is  my  advocate,  and 
prays  the  Father  that  he  will  give  me  an- 
other Comforter.  This  sacred  Comforter, 
by  shewing  me  the  riches  of  Christ,  will  more 
and  more  sanctify   my  nature.      To  think 


and  live  in  this  manner,  is  to  take  the  spoil 
after  our  victorious  Leader." 

I^et  me  close  and  confirm  this  sentiment 
with  a  passage  from  that  inimitable  penman, 
the  prophet  Isaiah  ;  who,  for  his  remarkably 
clear  views  of  Christ,  may  almost  be  admit- 
ted into  the  number  of  evangelists  ;  and 
for  his  exquisitely  fine  descriptions  of  Christ, 
greatly  exceeds  all  orators  and  all  poets  : 
"  Who  is  this  that  cometh  from  Edom,  with 
dyed  garments  from  Bozrah  ?  This,  that 
is  glorious  in  his  apparel,  travelling  in  the 
greatness  of  his  strength  ? — 1  that  speak  in 
righteousness,  mighty  to  save. — Wherefore 
art  thou  red  in  thine  apparel,  and  thy  gar- 
ments like  him  that  treadeth  in  the  wine- 
fat  ? — I  have  trodden  the  wine-press  alone, 
and  of  the  people  there  was  none  with  me." 

The  prophet,  like  one  thrown  into  a  sud- 
den surprise,  with  a  beautiful  abruptness 
cries  out.  Who  is  this  9  What  extraordinary 
appearance  discovers  itself  to  my  sight  ?  Is 
it  a  human  or  a  divine  form  that  I  behold  ? 
He  Cometh  from  Edom,  the  countiy — from 
JBozruh,  the  capital — of  our  professed  nation- 
al enemies.  Is  he  for  us,  or  for  our  adver- 
saries ?  The  first  question  seems  to  proceed 
from  a  distant  and  indistinct  view.  He  then 
takes  a  nearer  survey,  and  describes  the  won- 
derful personage  with  greater  particularity. 
This  that  cometh  ivith  dyed  c/arments,  like 
some  terrible  and  victorious  warrior  that 
has  scarcely  sheathed  the  sword  of  slaugh- 
ter ;  who  is  all  encrimsoncd,  and  still  reek- 
ing with  the  blood  of  the  slain. 

The  vision  becomes  clearer  and  clearer. 
I  see  him,  adds  the  rapturous  prophet,  <7fon- 
ous  in  his  apparel ;  highly  graceful,  as  well 
as  extremely,  awful :  Bearing  in  his  aspect, 
in  his  whole  person,  in  his  very  dress,  the 
marks  of  transcendent  dignity.  TraveVimj 
in  the  greatness  of  his  strength;  not  faint  with 
toil,  nor  wearied  with  the  fatigue  of  the 
dreadful  action,  but  like  one  that  is  inde- 
fatigaijle  in  his  zeal,  and  irresistible  in  his 
power  ;  and  therefore  still  pressing  forwards 
to  new  victories,  still  going  on  from  con- 
quering to  conquer. 

The  majestic  object  is  all  this  wliile 
advancing.  At  length  he  approaches  near 
enough  to  hold  a  conference  with  this  de- 
vout iiHiuirer.  One  would  naturally  ex- 
pect that  his  speech  should  be,  like  his  as- 
pect, alarming  and  tremendous.  But  grace 
is  on  his  tongue,  and  his  lips  drop  bidm. 
I  that  speak  in  righteousness;  all  whose  words 
are  faithfulness  and  truth — an  immovea- 
ble foundation  for  the  faith  of  my  people, 
That  speak  of  righteousness  ;  of  that  mys- 
terious righteousness  which  is  the  delight 
of  my  h'athcr,  and  the  life  of  the  world : 
To  bring  in  which,  is  the  design  of  my  ap- 
pearance on  earth,  and  to  reveal  it,  is  the  of- 
fice of  my  Spirit.  By  means  of  this  rigiit- 
eousncss  I  am  ynighhj  to  save;  to  save  thee, 


^12 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


to  save  any  iost  sinner ;  to  save  them,  as 
with  the  arm  of  Omnipotence,  beyond  all  that 
they  can  think,  even  to  the  very  uttermost. 

Here  the  prophet  seems  to  be  somewhat 
at  a  loss,  and  takes  leave  to  renew  his  in- 
quii-y.  If  thou  art  come  not  to  destroy 
men's  lives,  but  to  save,  "  Wherefore  art 
thou  red  in  thine  apparel,  and  thy  garments 
like  him  that  trcadeth  in  the  wine  fat  ?" 
These  indicate,  not  deliverance,  but  de- 
struction ;  these  are  tokens,  not  of  forbear- 
ing mercy,  but  of  inexorable  vengeance.  It 
is  true,  replies  the  illustrious  Hero,  I  have 
\yoddeii  the  wine-press  ;"  I  have  crushed  my 
oes,  I  Lave  trampled  them  under  my  feet, 
"snd  repentance  was  hid  from  mine  eyes. 
jBut  thy  enemies  were  the  objects  of  mine 
indignation :  Sin,  and  death,  and  hell,  are 
the  vanquished  adversaries.  It  is  their 
Wood  that  is  sprinkled  upon  my  garments, 
and  that  stains  all  my  raiment.  This  vic- 
tory I  have  gained  by  myself  alone  ;  being 
infinitely  too  great  in  my  power  to  want  an 
associate,  and  infinitely  too  jealous  of  my 
honour  to  accept  of  any  assistance.  Of  the 
people,  whether  in  heaven  or  on  earth,  there 
was  none  with  me,  to  afl^oi-d  the  least  succoiu- 
or  to  take  the  least  share  in  the  glorious 
work.  The  salvation  of  sinners,  their  de- 
liverance from  wrath,  and  their  redemption 
to  God,  is,  in  all  its  parts,  my  act,  even 
mine,  and  mine  only.  Yom-s  be  all  the 
benefit,  mine  all  the  glory. 

"  The  terms  of  acceptance  for  fallen  man 
were,  a  full  satisfaction  to  fte  divine  jus- 
tice, and  a  complete  conformity  to  the 
divine  law." — "  This,"  says  Mr.  Wes- 
ley to  Aspasio,  "  you  take  for  granted,  but 
I  cannot  allow."  That  Aspasio  does  not 
take  these  points  for  granted,  I  thought  even 
his  enemies  would  confess  :  That  he  has 
attempted,  at  least,  to  make  good  his  opin- 
ion, all  tiie  world,  besides  yourself,  Sir,  will 
acknowledge.  What  else  is  the  design  of 
Dialogue  third  and  fourth  ?  What  else  is 
aimed  at  in  Dialogue  the  seventh,  eighth, 
and  ninth  ?  The  former  treat  largely  of  fhe 
full  satisfaction  given  to  divine  justice  ;  the 
latter  treat  still  more  largely  of  the  conform- 
ity demanded  by  the  divine  law,  and  yield 
cd  by  the  divine  Jesus. 

These  things,  however,  "  you  cannot  al- 
low." Not  allow  a  full  satisfaction  of  di- 
vine justice  to  be  necessary !  Are  you  not 
then  acceding  to  the  Socinian  ?  Kot  allow 
a  complete  conformity  to  the  dirine  law  to 
be  necessai7  !  Are  you  not  then  warping 
to  the  Antinomian  ?  See,  Sir,  how  you 
approach  the  rocks,  I'Oth  on  the  right  hand 
and  on  the  left.     May  the  keeper  of  Israel 


•  This  phrase  evidr.itly  denotes  conquest  and  tri- 
umiih  ;  enemies  xaniiuishcd  and  totally  destroyed. 
It  should  never,  therefore,  be  applied  to  the  agoniz- 
ing, but  to  the  triumphant  Saviour;  not  to  .Icsus 
iirostrale  on  tlie  groui:d,  but  to  Jesus  making  his 
foes  his  footstool 


preservfc  yourself  and  your  followers  froni 
suffering  sliipwreck  !  Every  one,  I  think, 
must  allow  what  you  deny,  who  believes  the 
divine  justice  to  be  infinite,  and  the  divine 
law  to  be  imalterable.  A  justice  that  will 
admit  of  any  satisfaction  less  than  complete, 
can  never  be  deemed  infinite.  And  if  the 
divine  law  can  rest  satisfied  witli  an  obedi- 
ence that  is  defective,  it  is  not  so  venerable 
as  the  law  of  the  Medes  and  Persians. 

"  The  terms  of  acceptance  for  fallen  man," 
you  say,  "  are  repentance  and  faith."  I 
must  own  I  do  not  much  like  the  expression 
terms,  unless  it  be  referred  to  the  mediation 
of  Christ.  And  you  yourself,  if  you  woidd 
act  consistently,  should  not  be  overfond  of 
it,  because  it  is  not  scrii)tural  ;  though,  for 
my  own  part,  I  have  no  quarrel  against  the 
word  because  it  is  not  the  exact  phraseolo- 
gy of  Scriptm'e,  but  because  I  dislike  the 
idea  it  conveys.  Sliall  we  treat  with  the 
Deity,  as  free  states  or  sovereign  princes 
treat  with  each  other  ?  The  one  obtaining 
from  the  other  peace,  or  some  advantageous 
concession,  by  complying  with  his  terms  ? 

To  confirm  your  opinion,  that  "  the  terms 
of  acceptance  for  fallen  man  are  repentance 
and  faith,"  you  produce  the  following  text, 
"  Repent  ye,  and  believe  the  gospel." 
Here  you  write  like  a  man  of  sense,  who 
knows  what  just  disputation  means.  You 
lay  aside  you  certainlies,  your  undoubted- 
lies,  your  unquestionablies,  and  urge  a  proof 
from  Scripture.  Whether  you  rightly  un- 
derstand and  duly  apply  this  proof,  nuist 
now  be  inquired. 

"  Repent  ye,  and  believe  the  gospel." 
This  may  be  the  meaning  of  the  exhorta- 
tion : — RepeAt ;  relinquish  all  your  wrong 
notions  relating  to  the  way  and  manner  of 
finding  acceptance  with  the  Deity.  13tlicvc 
the  gospel ;  which  opens  a  most  unexpected 
avenue  for  the  communication  of  this  I)less- 
ing;  which  brings  you  tidings  of  a  salva- 
tion, fully  procured  by  the  incarnate  God, 
and  freely  offered  to  the  unworthy  sinner. 
The  word,  you  know,  is  fji-.TixMoitn,  which, 
in  its  primary  signification,  denot.s  not  so 
much  a  reformation  of  conduct  as  a  change 
of  sentiment. 

Suppose  it  to  signify  a  reformation  of 
conduct.  The  meaning  then  may  be  as  fol- 
lows :  — Repent ;  forsake  all  your  vices,  and 
all  yoiu'  follies ;  mortify  every  evil  temper, 
and  renoimce  every  evil  way.  In  order  to 
render  this  practicable,  believe  the  gospel ; 
wherein  a  Savioiu'  is  preached  and  display- 
ed, who  makes  peace  for  such  offenders,  re- 
conciles them  to  God,  and  obtains  eternal 
redemption  for  them.  This  will  sweetly 
withdraw  yoiu'  affections  from  iniquity,  and 
sweetly  attach  them  to  the  blessed  (iod  : 
Whereas,  without  this  powerful  expedient, 
you  will  never  be  delivered  from  the  ])lcas- 
ing  witchcraft  of  your  lusts;  sin   will  al- 


REV.  IVill.  WESLEY. 


513 


ways  have  donii.iion  over  you,  so  long  as 
you  are  under  the  hiw  and  not  under  graee, 
Repentniice,  thus  understood,  is  not  the 
condition  of  obtaining  salvation,  but  the 
fruit  of  salvation  obtained. 

Besides,  if  repentance  be  a  gift,  it  can- 
not be  a  term  or  condition.  He  must  he  a 
stranger  to  the  import  of  language,  and  the 
common  ideas  of  mankind,  who  will  take 
upon  him  to  affirm  the  latter  ;  and  he  must 
be  yet  a  greater  stranger  to  the  holy  word  of 
God,  who  will  offer  to  deny  the  former. 
"  Christ  is  exalted,"  saith  the  apostle,  "  to 
give  repentance."  Not  to  require  it  as  a 
condition  of  blessedness,  but  to  give  it  as  a 
most  eminent  blessing.  Not  require  re- 
pentance of  fallen  man,  who  is  not  able  to 
think  a  good  thought ;  but  give  it  from  his 
misearehable  riches,  and  work  it  by  his  al- 
mighty power. 

You  say,  "  The  terms  of  acceptance  for 
fallen  man  are,"  &e.  Methinks  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  what  you  mean  by  fallen  man. 
Do  you  mean  (as  you  tell  us  in  your  collection 
of  sermons)  "  one  dead  to  God,  and  all  the 
things  of  God  ;  having  no  more  power  to 
perform  the  actions  of  a  living  Christian, 
than  a  dead  body  to  perform  the  functions 
of  a  living  man?"  What  terms,  I  beseech 
you,  can  such  a  one  fulfil  ?  Be  they  ever  so 
difficult,  or  ever  so  easy,  it  maketh  no  dif- 
ference. The  hand,  stiff  in  death,  is  no 
more  able  to  move  a  feather  than  to  remove 
a  mountain.  Whatever,  therefore,  others 
may  affirm,  you,  Sir,  cainiot  talk  of  repentance 
to  be  exercised  by  fallen  man,  until  he  is 
([iiickened  and  enabled  by  fellowship  with 
(Jhrist,  the  living  and  life-giving  head  ;  un- 
less you  choose  either  to  contradict  your 
own  assertion,  that  fallen  man  is  absolutely 
(lead  to  all  good  ;  or  else  think  proper  to 
maintain,  that  the  dead  may  not  only  act, 
but  perform  some  of  the  most  excellent  acts 
and  important  ollices. 

You  should  likewise,  Sir,  if  you  would 
wiite  correctly  and  argue  forcibly,  have  told 
us  what  you  mean  by  faith  ;  otherwise,  you 
may  intend  one  thing  and  I  another,  even 
while  we  both  use  the  same  word.  In  this 
case,  our  dispute  might  be  as  endless  as  it 
must  be  fruitless. 

By  faith  I  mean,  what  St  John  calls,  a  re- 
ceiving of  Christ ;  a  receiving  of  him  and  his 
benefits,  as  they  are  freely  given  in  the  word 
of  grace  and  truth.  If  this,  which  is  the  a- 
j)ostolical,  be  a  proper  definition,  then  it 
seems  not  to  come  under  the  denomination 
of  a  condition.  They  must  lie  excessive  re- 
finers indeed,  who  would  call  my  receiving 
a  ric^h  present,  the  terms  or  conditions  of 
]K)ssessiiig  it ;  or  would  esteem  my  eating  at 
a  plenteous  feast,  the  terms  and  conditions 
of  enjoying  it.  Is  not  this  to  subtilize  till 
sound  sense  is  lost  .■' 

I'uith,  according  to  St  Paul,  is  a  persua- 


sion that  Christ  loved  me,  and  gave  himself 
for  me.  Where  is  any  trace,  or  any  hint  of 
conditionality  in  this  descrij)tion?  I  do  not 
hear  the  apostle  saying — he  loved  me,  pro- 
vided I  repent ;  he  gave  himself  for  me,  in 
case  I  think  this  or  do  that ; — hut,  he  gave 
himself  for  me  when  I  was  ungodly,  and  had 
performed  no  conditions  ;  when  I  was  with- 
out strength,  and  could  pei'form  no  condi- 
tions. Thus  he  gave  himself  tor  me,  that  I 
might  have  remission  of  sins  through  his 
blood,  and  eternal  life  through  his  righteous- 
ness. Believing  these  delightful  truths,  and 
receiving  these  heavenly  privileges,  I  love 
my  most  adorable  Benefactor  ;  and  abhor 
those  iniquites  for  which  he  wept,  and  groan- 
ed, and  died.  That  love  of  Christ  is  vital  holi- 
ness ;  and  this  abhorrence  of  sin  is  practical 
repentance  ;  and  both  are  the  fruits,  there- 
fore cannot  be  the  conditions,  of  salvation 
by  Jesus. 

Some  holy  men  and  excellent  writers,  I 
confess,  have  not  scrupled  to  call  faith  and 
repentance  the  conditions  of  our  salvation. 
Yet  I  cannot  prevail  on  myself  to  admire  or 
approve  the  language.  I  fear  it  tends  to  em- 
barrass the  sincere  soul ;  to  darken  the  lustre 
of  grace  ;  and  to  afford  too  much  occasion 
for  boasting- 

Tu  embarrass  the  sincere  soul. — For,  if  I 
am  saved  on  conditions,  this  will  naturally 
divert  my  attention  frmii  the  grand  and  all- 
sulficient  cause  of  justification, — the  right- 
eousness of  Christ,  which  alone  gives  sollfl 
conifoit-  Instead  of  delighting  myse.lf  in 
the  Lord  Redeemer,  I  shall  be  engaged  in 
an  anxious  concern  about  the  sujjposed  con- 
ditions :  Whether  I  have  performed  them  ? 
Whether  I  have  ])erformed  them  aright  ? 
Whether  there  may  not  be  some  latent  de- 
fect, that  spoils  all,  and  renders  my  labour 
fruitless  ?  The  more  serious  our  minds  are, 
and  the  more  tender  our  consciences,  the 
more  shall  we  be  liable  to  perplexity  and  dis- 
quietude on  this  head. 

It  eclipses  the  lustre  of  grace, — "  Ye  are 
saved  by  grace,"  says  the  oracle  of  Heaven. 
But  if  salvation  be  upon  conditions,  it  can- 
not be  of  grace.  It  must,  in  some  measure 
at  least,  be  of  works.  Since  it  depend.s 
upon  working  the  conditions,  it  is  obtained 
by  working  the  conditions  ;  and  the  candi- 
date has  reason  to  look  principally  unto  his 
performance  of  the  conditions.  They  are 
to  him,  by  incomparable  degrees,  the  most 
imiJortant  point;  because,  without  their  all- 
significant  interposition,  every  thing  else  is 
as  nothing.  Even  God's  everlasting  love, 
and  Christ's  everlasting  righteousness,  are, 
till  the  conditions  are  fulfilled,  but  cyphers 
without  the  initial  figure. 

It  ({[fords  l(>i>  wuch  occasion  for  boasting. — 
INlay  1  not,  in  this  case,  thank  my  own  ap- 
plication and  industry?   They,  tliey  exerted 
themselves  successfully ;  and   behold  I  the 
2   L 


5'A  LETTERS 

promised  reward  is  mine.  What  then 
should  hinder  me  from  sacrificing  unto  my 
own  net,  and  burning  incense  unto  my  own 
drag  ?  At  this  door  the  notion  of  merit 
will  unavoidably  creep  in  ;  because  my  per- 
formance of  the  condition  is  meritorious  of 
the  covenanted  reward, — so  far  meritorious 
that  the  reward  is  my  due  ;  I  may  demand 
it  as  a  debt ;  and  it  will  be  an  act  of  appar- 
ent injustice  to  withhold  it.  But  shall  these 
things  be  said  unto  the  Almighty  ?  Will 
these  things  redound  to  "  the  praise  of  the 
glory  of  his  grace  ?"  Do  these  things  hide 
vanity  from  man,  or  consist  with  a  salvation 
that  is  "  without  money  or  without  price  ?" 
Not  quite  so  well,  I  believe  yourself  will 
acknowledge,  as  the  following  lines  : 
Lot  thewoild  their  virtue  boast. 

Their  works  of  righteousness; 
I,  a  wretch  undone  and  lost, 

Am  freely  saved  by  grace  ; 
Other  title  I  disclaim. 

This,  only  this  is  all  my  plea; 
1  the  chief  of  sinners  am. 

But  Jesus  died  for  me. 

"  Fallen  man  (you  say)  is  justified,  not 
Dy  perfect  obedience,  but  by  faith."  Not 
by  perfect  obedience!  Ah,  Sir,  if  you  had 
remembered  the  immutability  of  God,  and 
the  spirituality  of  his  law,  you  would  not 
have  challenged  this  expression. — «  But  by 
faith."  Here,  it  is  true,  you  use  the  lan- 
guage of  Scripture.  Nevertheless  it  be- 
hoves a  watchman  in  Israel  to  shew  how 
the  language  of  Scripture  may  be  abused. 
Faith,  you  allow,  is  imputed  to  us  for  right- 
eousness :  therefore  (you  infer)  not  the 
righteousness  or  perfect  obedience  of  Christ. 
This,  if  you  mean  any  thing,  or  would  speak 
any  thing  to  the  purpose,  must  be  your  way 
of  arguing.  So  you  would  set  faith  and 
Christ's  righteousness  at  variance.  The 
former  shall  exclude  the  latter  from  its  of- 
fice :  Whereas,  the  former  is  only  the  pit- 
cher at  the  foimtain,  while  the  latter  is  the 
very  water  of  life — is  that  blessed,  glorious, 
heavenly  expedient,  which,  received  by  faith, 
justifies,  sanctifies,  saves. 

According  to  your  gospel,  faith  will  say 
to  the  righteousness  of  the  Redeemer, 
'•  Depart  hence,  I  have  no  need  of  thee.  I 
myself  act  as  the  justifying  righteousness.  I 
stand  in  the  stead  of  perfect  obedience,  in 
order  to  acceptance  with  God."«  To  this 
may  we  not  reply,  Was  faith  then  crucified 
for  you?  Has  faith  magnified  the  divine 
law  ?  Or  is  it  by  means  of  faith,  that  not 
one  jot  or  tittle  of  its  precepts  pass  unful- 
filled? 

If  faith,  in  this  sense,  is  imputed  for 
righteousness,  how  can  you  subscribe  that 
emphatical  article  which  declares,  "  We  are 
accounted  righteous  befoie  God,  only  for 
the  merit  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ  ?"      Surely,  Sir,  you  are  accounted 

•  These  are  Mr.  Wesley's  own  words,  in  his  expli- 
cation of  this  very  doctrine.  See  his  Sermon  on  the 
Righteousness  ol'Faith,  vul.  i.  p.  111. 


TO  THE 

righteous  for  the  sake  of  that,  whatever  it 
be,  which  stands  in  the  stead  of  perfect 
obedience.  That,  whatever  it  l>e,  may 
claim  the  honour,  and  to  that  justice  itself 
cannot  but  award  the  prize. 

If  your  notion  be  true,  the  believer  ought 
to  have  his  own  faith  principally  in  view. 
Whatever  presents  me  perfectly  obedient 
before  God,  is  my  greatest  good — is  my 
choicest  portion — the  best  foundation  for 
my  hope,  my  peace,  my  joy.  To  this, 
therefore,  so  long  as  I  know  my  own  inter- 
est, I  must  chiefly  look.  Whereas,  look  un- 
to Jesus  is  the  direction  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Look  unto  his  perfect  atonement  and  com- 
plete righteousness,  and  be  saved,  is  the 
grand  unchangeable  edict  issued  from  the 
throne  of  grace. 

Perhaps  you  will  say.  Are  not  the  words 
of  Scripture  expressly  on  my  side?  "  P'aith 
is  imputed  for  righteousness."  True.  But 
is  the  sense  of  Scripture  on  your  side  ? 
Suppose  I  should  undertake  to  prove,  that 
David  was  purged  from  guilt  by  the  hyssop 
which  groweth  on  the  wall ;  this  you  would 
think  a  wild  and  impracticable  attempt. 
But  should  I  not  have  the  words  of  Scrip- 
ture  expressly  on  my  side  ?  "  Purge  me 
with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be  clean."  Yet 
should  I  not  have  the  least  countenance 
imaginable  from  the  spirit  and  sense  of  those 
sacred  writings.  Has  the  hyssop,  a  mean 
worthless  shrub,  any  kind  of  fitness  to  stand 
in  the  stead  of  the  sacrificial  blood,  and 
make  the  atonement  for  sin  ?  No  more  fit- 
ness has  faith  to  stand  in  the  stead  of  per- 
fect obedience,  to  act  as  our  justifying  right- 
eousness, or  procure  our  acceptance  with 
God. 

"  What  Christ  has  done."  Here  Mr. 
Wesley  himself  speaks  of  what  Christ  has 
done.  He  represents  it  by  a  very  magnifi- 
cent image.  He  lays  it  as  the  foundation 
of  that  first  and  most  comprehensive  bless- 
ing, justification.  In  this  I  most  cordially 
agree  with  him  ;  hoping  that  we  shall  un- 
animously join  to  defend  this  important 
sentiment  against  all  opposition,  and  endea- 
vour to  display  the  Redeemer's  work,  as 
well  as  his  passion,  in  all  its  glorious  ex- 
cellency. 

"  What  Christ  has  done,  is  the  founda- 
tion of  our  justification,  not  the  term  or  con- 
dition." The  prophet  Isaiah  had  other  no- 
tions of  this  matter  ;  "  If  thou  shalt  make 
his  soul  an  offering  for  sin,  he  shall  see  his 
seed."  //"is  the  hypothetic  language;  de- 
notes a  term,  expresses  a  condition,  on  the 
performance  of  which  the  Messiah  should 
see  his  seed ;  should  have  a  numberless  mul- 
titude of  siimers  pardoned  and  renewed, 
born  again  of  the  Spirit,  and  made  heirs  of 
salvation.  The  grand  term  on  which  all 
these  blessings  depend,  and  by  which  they 
are  made  sure  to  believers,  is,  the  ;»ouriiig 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


515 


out  of  the  Messiah's  soul,  as  a  sacrifice  for 
their  sins  and  a  ransom  fur  their  persons. 

"  The  foundation,  not  the  condition." 
Methinks  you  should  offer  some  reason  for 
this  distinction  ;  especially  since  St.  Paul 
assures  us,  that  Christ  is,  in  the  work  of 
salvation,  not  this  or  that  only,  but  he  is 
All;  especially  since  Christ  himself  declares, 
/  am,  in  that  grandest  of  all  affairs,  the  re- 
demption of  sinners,  the  beginning  and  the 
ending.  And  well  he  may  be  so,  since  he 
is,  as  it  follows  in  the  text,  the  Almiyhtij. 

Your  meaning,  I  presume,  is.  What 
Christ  has  done  is  a  foundation  for  the  in- 
fluence and  significancy  of  our  own  doings  ; 
that  they,  under  the  notion  of  terms  and 
conditions,  may  come  in  for  a  share,  and  be 
his  coadjutors  in  the  great  work.  This  was 
the  doctrine  established  by  the  council  of 
Trent ;  this  is  the  doctrine  still  maintained 
in  the  conclave  of  Rome  ;  and  is,  perhaps, 
of  all  their  abominations,  the  most  refined, 
yet  not  the  least  dishonourable  to  our  Sa- 
viour. It  bears  the  greatest  opposition  to 
the  truth  of  his  gospel,  and  the  freeness  of 
his  redemption. 

I  have  heard  it  insinuated,  that  Mr.  Wes- 
ley is  a  Jesuit  in  disguise.  This  insinuation 
1  rejected,  as  the  grossest  calumny — I  ab- 
horred, as  falsehood  itself.  I  acquit  you. 
Sir,  from  the  charge  of  being  a  Jesuit  or  a 
Papist ;  but  no  body,  I  apprehend,  can  ac- 
quit your  principles  from  halting  between 
protestantism  and  popery.  They  have 
stolen  the  unhallowed  fire,  and  are  infected 
with  the  leaven  of  antichrist.  You  have 
unhappily  adopted  some  specious  papistical 
teiu'ts,  and  listened  to  the  mother  of  abom- 
inalions  niore  than  you  are  aware. 

Amidst  all  your  mistakes  (and  from  mis- 
tjikes  who  is  exempt)  I  verily  believe  your 
l)nncipal  aim  is,  the  honour  of  Christ  and 
the  edification  of  souls;  therefore  1  speak 
the  more  freely.  Was  you  a  bigot  to  sel- 
fishness, or  a  devotee  to  vain-glory,  such 
liberty  might  be  disjileasing.  But  I  am 
persuaded  better  things  of  Mr.  Wesley. 
He  has  publicly  declared,  that  "  wherein- 
soever he  is  mistaken,  his  mind  is  o])en  to 
conviction  ;  and  he  sincerely  desires  to  be 
better  informed."  This  is  written  in  the  true 
spirit  of  a  Christian.  To  this  spirit  I  address 
inyself ;  begging  of  you,  Sir,  with  the  sin- 
cerity and  tenderness  of  a  brother,  to  consi- 
der these  hints  impartially;  lest,  being  mis- 
led yourself,  you  mislead  your  thousands 
and  ten  thous.inds. 

In  the  mean  time,  I  hope,  you  will  not 
take  it  amiss,  if  to  my  alFectionate  entrea- 
ties I  add  my  earnest  ])rayers,  that  you,  Sir, 
and  your  peojjle,  may  be  in  the  number  of 
those  "  blessed  men,  unto  whom  God 
iniputeth  righteonsiiess  without  works." 
Which  I  take  to  be  the  first  and  great  evan- 
fclical  urlvilege  ;  us  1  am  very  sure  it  is  the 


richest  benefit  I  know  how  to  crave,  either 
for  you,  or  for  your  most,  &c. 


LETTER  VII. 

Reverend  Siit, —  Persons  skilled  in  the 
dissection  of  animal  bodies  frequently  men- 
tion Comparative  Anatomy.  ]\Iay  I  bor- 
row the  term,  and  apply  it  to  theologv  ?  I 
do  then  freely  declare,  that  in  case  you  cen- 
sured Aspasio  for  points  of  divinitv  com- 
paratively small,  you  should  have  no  oppo- 
sition nor  any  check  from  this  pen. 

Some  people,  for  instance,  are  of  opin- 
ion, that  the  belief  of  a  parent  is  considera- 
bly beneficial  to  his  children.  That  when 
St.  Paul  .says  to  the  anxious  jailor,  "  be- 
lieve on  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  thou  shalt  be 
saved  and  thy  house,"  he  promises  some 
special  good  that  should  redound  to  the 
man's  household  from  his  own  receival  of 
Christ.  It  seems,  indeed,  that  the  apostle 
must  intend  something  of  this  nature,  more 
than  barely  to  say.  Thy  family  also,  provid- 
ed they  follow  thy  example,  shall  obtain 
salvation  with  eternal  glory.  If  this  wurn 
the  whole  of  his  meaning,  he  need  not  have 
confined  it  to  the  jailor's  domestics,  but 
might  have  extended  it  to  all  the  inhabitants 
of  Philippi. 

Such  tenets,  whether  admitted  or  reject- 
ed, affect  not  the  main  ])oint.  Men  may 
embrace  which  side  of  the  question  they 
think  ])roper,  and  yet  be  sound  in  the  faith 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  But  errors  re- 
lating to  that  righteousness  which  is  the 
one  efficient  cause  of  justification,  in  v/hich 
alone  God  is  well  jileased,  and  all  his  pcT- 
fections  glorified,  which  is  the  only  spring 
of  solid  peace  and  true  godliness — such  er- 
rors are  extremely  pernicious.  These  we 
must  withstand  with  resolution  and  zeal. 
We  may  not  give  place  to  their  encroach- 
ment, no,  not  for  an  hour.  The  former 
may  be  compared  to  a  fly  settled  on  the  dish, 
the  latter  are  more  like  poison  mixed  with 
our  food.  To  dislodge  that,  may  not  be 
amiss  ;  but  to  prevent,  or  e.xpel,  or  anti- 
dote this,  is  absolutely  necessary.  In  the 
former  nund)er,  perhaps  the  reader  will  rank 
your  obser\ation  which  follows.  But  as  1 
have  undertaken  to  follow  you  step  by  step, 
I  must  not  disregard  it. 

Aspasio,  s])eaking  of  David,  exiirrssos  a 
high  esteem  for  that  hero,  king,  and  saint. 
Allowing  ihat  his  esteem  were  carried  a 
little  to.)  fiir,  where  would  have  been  the 
gieat  hurt  or  the  grievous  offence?  IFuw, 
Sir,  could  this  have  led  to  "uiirettled  no- 
tions in  religion?"*     I  was  inclined  to  aii- 


•  T  e  filer  wi  1  ))!c:ise  lo  lemeiii' c-r,  f!i^t  the. 
l>ar.ii>lik';  whicli  amtuiub  tlie  remarks  un.i-i  coiiiidtr- 


516 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


swer  your  reflections,  as  the  hero  himself 
answered  his  censorious  brother,  "  Is  there 
not  a  cause  ?"  then  passing  on  to  another 
subject,  as  he,  perfectly  tnaster  of  himself, 
and  nobly  superior  to  the  affront,  turned  to 
another  person.  But  as  you  seem  to  have 
injured  David,  and  not  done  justice  to  the 
tmth,  I  shall  hardly  be  excused  if  I  dismiss 
the  matter  without  some  more  particular 
notice. 

"  God  himself  dignifies  David  with  the 
most  exalted  of  all  characters,"  says  Aspa- 
sio.  "  Far,  very  |^far  from  it,  (says  Mr. 
Wesley) ;  we  have  more  exalted  charac- 
ters than  David's."  Where,  Sir?  Shew  me, 
in  any  of  the  saints,  or  in  any  of  the  sacred 
writers,  a  more  devout,  or  a  more  divine 
spirit,  than  that  which  breathes  in  the  pen- 
man of  the  Psalms.  For  my  own  part,  I 
know  nothing  superior  to  it,  in  any  author, 
Or  in  any  language  :  Neither  can  I  conceive 
a  more  exalted  character  than  the  character 
given  of  David,  "  a  man  after  God's  own 
heart."  If  God  be  an  unerring  judge,  if 
his  approbation  be  the  infallible  standard, 
this  description  must  express  the  most  con- 
smumate  human  worth.  Say  whatever  you 
will  of  a  person,  it  does  not,  it  cannot,  ex- 
ceed this  most  illustrious  testimony. 

"  But  this  is  said  of  David  in  a  particular 
respect."  Ay !  notwithstanding  the  Holy 
Spirit  has  declared 'concerning  him,  "  a  man 
after  mine  own  heart,  who  shall  perform  all 
my  will  ?"  If  you  was  expounding  this  text, 
would  you  think  it  right  to  say.  He  shall  per- 
form all  my  will,  that  is,  he  shall  serve  me  in 
some  particular  respect !  "  It  was  not  said 
with  regard  to  his  whole  character."  No  ! 
not  when  the  Spirit  of  inspiration  has  borne 
this  witness  to  David,  "  His  heart  was  per- 
fect with  the  Lord  his  God  !"  Could  his 
heart  be  perfect,  yet  not  influence  his  whole 
conduct  ?  But  it  was  said  in  the  second  or 
third  year  of  Saul's  reign  ;  therefore  it  was 
not  applicable  to  him  during  the  future  years 
of  his  life.  This  is  the  inference  you  would 
draw.  But  can  you  really  think  it  a  just 
one  ?  Or  would  you  call  that  person  a  man 
after  God's  own  heart,  who  is  singularly 
pious  in  the  days  of  his  youth,  but  swerves 
and  declines  in  his  advanced  age? 

Notwithstanding  all  these  remonstrances, 
you  push  matters  to  the  utmost ;  as  though 
it  was  a  point  ci  the  last  importance  to  prove 
David  an  errant  backslider.  With  this  view 
you  add,  "  But  was  he  a  man  after  God's 
own  heart  all  his  life,  or  in  all  particulars  ? 
So  far  from  it,  that" — Stop,  Sir,  I  beseech 
you ;  and,  before  you  speak  unadvisedly  with 
your  lips,  hear  what  the  Lord  himself  replies 
to  both  your  interrogatories  :  "  David  did 
that  which  was  right  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord, 


ation,  is  entitled,  A  Preservative  against  Unsettled 
Notions  in  Religion. 


and  turned  not  aside  from  any  tliinc^  that  he 
commanded  him  all  the  days  of  his  life,  save 
only  in  the  matter  of  Uriah  the  Hittite." 
Surelyyou  was  not  aware  thatsuch  things  are 
written  in  the  book  of  God  ;  otherwise,  you 
would  not  have  contradicted  them  with  so 
much  boldness.  1  will  therefore  put  the 
most  charitable  construction  upon  your  pro- 
cedure, and  say  with  the  apostle,  "  1  wot, 
that  through  inadvertence  you  did  it." 

"  There  is  not  a  just  man  upon  earth,  that 
sinneth  not,"  is  a  text  quoted  by  Aspasio. 
Upon  which  Mr.  Wesley  observes,  "  Solo- 
mon might  truly  say  so,  before  Christ  came." 
According  to  this  insinuation,  what  Solomon 
said  in  his  Proverbs  and  other  books,  was 
said  only  by  a  short-sighted  mortal,  who 
might  adapt  his  instructions  to  the  present 
economy,  but  was  not  able  to  plan  a  system 
of  morals  for  futurity ;  whereas  I  always  sup- 
posed, that  his  writings  were  dictated  by 
that  infinitely  wise  Spirit,  before  whom  all 
times  are  present,  and  to  whom  all  events 
are  known.  Agreeably  to  this  supposition, 
St.  Paul  informs  us, that  "whatsoever  things 
were  written  aforetime,  (whether  by  Solo- 
mon or  any  other  prophet),  were  written 
for  our  learning."  No,  suggests  Mr.  Wesley: 
Here  is  something  written,  which  apper- 
tains not  to  us  Christians  :  We  are  above  it. 
Are  you  so  ?  Your  reason  for  these  lofty 
apprehensions?  Why,  St.  Johri'  affirms, 
"  VVhosoever  is  born  of  God,  sinneth  not." 

True,  he  sinneth  not  habitually  ;  it  is  not 
his  customary  practice.  Thus  the  passage 
is  explained  by  another  apostle ;  "  Sin 
(though  it  may  make  insuiTcction)  does  not 
reign  in  his  mortal  body :''  Though  it  may 
assault  him,  yet  it  "  has  no  dominion  over 
him." 

Again,  "he  sinneth  not,"  is  the  same 
way  of  speaking,  and  to  be  understood  with 
the  same  limitation,  as  that  text  in  Job,  "  he 
giveth  not  account  of  any  of  his  matters." 
How,  Sir,  would  you  interpret  these  words  ? 
It  is  undeniably  certain,  that  sometimes  God 
giveth  account  of  his  matters  ;  he  gave  it  to 
Abraham,  when  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and 
the  cities  about  them,  were  to  be  destroyed 
with  brimstone  and  fire  from  heaven.  You 
would  therefore,  I  presume,  in  some  such 
qualified  sense,  expound  the  passage  :  "  He 
giveth  not  account;  it  is  not  his  usual  way, 
not  a  customary  procedure  with  the  supreme 
Disposer  of  things :  He  generally  requireth 
his  creatures  to  transact  with  him  upon  trust; 
to  give  themselves  up,  with  an  implicit  re- 
signation, to  the  veracity  of  his  word,  and 
the  good  pleasure  of  his  will."  The  har- 
mony of  Scripture,  and  the  necessity  of  the 
case,  call  upon  you  to  give  the  same  expo, 
sition  of  the  text  before  us. 

I  said,  the  necessity  of  the  case  ;  for  you  will 
please  to  observe,  thethingaffirmedis  affirm- 
ed in  such  a  manner,  that  it  must  be  applied 


REV.  MR.    WESLEY. 


517 


to  every  individual  Christian,  and  at  the  very 
instant  of  his  commencing  a  true  Christian. 
The  apostle  says  not,  a  saint  of  the  first  rank, 
hut  whosoever.  He  says  not,  after  such  a 
one  has  heen  for  a  considerable  time  born 
of  God  ;  but  whosoever  is  born,  is  but  just 
entered  upon  the  desirable  state,  sinneth  not. 
The  character  belongs  to  the  very  weakest 
believer  :  The  description  is  suited  even  to 
liiibes  in  Christ.  To  suppose,  therefore, 
that  it  implies  an  entire  freedom  from  sin, 
infirmity,  and  defect,  is  to  suppose  that  all 
the  children  of  the  regeneration  are  born  in  a 
state  of  manhood  ;  or  rather,  are  more  than 
men,  even  while  they  are  infants  of  a  day. 

Our  sense  of  the  passage  is  free  from  this 
impropriety,  yet  gives  no  countenance  to 
immorality.  "  Whosoever  is  born  of  God 
sinneth  not."  He  does  not,  he  cannot  sin, 
like  the  devil,  or  one  actuated  by  the  dia- 
bolical nature.  This  interpretation  is  ren- 
dered probable,  by  the  apostle's  antithesis, 
"he  that  committeth  sin  is  of  the  devil." 
It  is  rendered  necessary,  by  the  preceding 
remark,  and  by  the  experience  of  Christians- 
The  text,  thus  interpreted,  is  applicable  to 
the  babe  in  Christ  as  well  as  to  the  adult. 
Though  either  of  them  may  fall  through  the 
violence  or  surprise  of  temptation,  yet  nei- 
ther of  them  can  live  and  die  in  allowed  ini- 
quity, whether  of  omission  or  commission. 
They  cannot  have  a  settled  love  to  any 
known  sin,  nor  can  they  commit  it  with  the 
full  consent  of  their  will. 

Solomon,  when  he  uttered  those  hum- 
bling words,  Eccl.  vii.  20,  had  his  eye  upon 
what  you  somewhere  call,  "  the  inconceiva- 
ble purity  and  spirituality  of  the  sacred 
precepts  ;"  upon  that  universal  obedience 
which  they  require,  in  every  the  minutest 
instance  -.  That  we  do  notliing,  great  or 
small,  which  they  forbid :  Leave  nothing 
undone,  in  heart  or  life,  which  they  enjoin  : 
That  we  do  all  this  in  the  most  perfect  de- 
gree ;  not  only  serving  the  Lord,  but  serv- 
ing him  with  all  our  strength ;  not  only 
loving  our  neighbour,  but  loving  him  as  our 
own  soul  ;  ever  exercising  the  utmost  re- 
gularity of  aflfection  and  desire  ;  ever  maiiv- 
taining  the  utmost  rectitude  of  temper  and 
thought.  If  you  also.  Sir,  had  y(jur  eye 
fixed  upon  the  same  law,  as  it  delineates 
and  demands  this  "  inconceivable  purity  and 
s])irituality,"  you  would  not  scruple  to  ac- 
quiesce in  the  wise  man's  confession,  nor 
think  much  to  adopt  it  as  your  own.  You 
would  acknowledge  it  calculated,  not  only 
for  the  Mosaic  era,  and  tlie  meridian  of  Ju- 
dah,  but  for  all  times  and  all  places  ;  till 
those  new  heavens,  and  that  new  earth  ap- 
pear, wherein  dwelleth  consummate  righte- 
ousness. 

"  In  many  things  we  offend  all."  "  That 
St.  .iMmes  does  not  s])eiik  this  of  himself, 
or  real  Christians,  Mill  clearly  a)>pear  to  all 


who  impartially  consider  the  context."  I 
wish,  Sir,  you  had  made  this  appear  to  one, 
even  to  him  whom  you  honour  with  this  ad- 
dress ;  then  I  should  not  have  been  obliged 
to  ask.  Of  whom  speaketh  the  apostle  ?  He 
says,  "  My  brethren : "  Does  not  this  im- 
ply true  believers,  and  real  Christians  ? 
He  says,  "  We  teachers  :"*  Does  not 
this  comprehend  himself,  and  describe  his 
office  ?  He  adds,  "  We  all  :"  If  he  himself, 
and  real  Christians,  are  not  included  in  this 
most  comprehensive  clause,  I  would  desire 
to  know  in  what  terms  they  could  possibly 
be  comprised. 

According  to  this  interpretation,  the  ar- 
guing is  just,  and  the  conclusion  forcible. 
As  though  he  had  said,  "  My  dear  bre- 
thren, though  you  are  truly  converted  to 
Christianity,  yet  do  not  unadvisedly  engage 
in  the  arduous  and  awful  work  of  the  min- 
istry :  remembering,  that  we  ministers  of 
the  gospel  shall  be  subject  to  a  stricter  judg- 
ment+  than  Christians  in  ordinary  life  ;  and 
if,  upon  trial,  we  are  found  faithless,  shall 
receive  a  heavier  condemnation. -|-  The 
danger,  let  me  add,  is  very  considerable  ; 
because,  such  is  the  frailty  of  our  mortal 
state,  that  the  very  best  among  us,  and  those 
conversant  in  sacred  things,  cainiot  always 
walk  uprightly ;  but  in  many  instances  we 
trip,  we  stumble,  we  offend." 

Whereas,  if  neither  the  apostle  himself, 
nor  real  Christians  be  meant,  I  can  see  no 
propriety  nor  force  in  the  reasoning.  Kay, 
I  can  see  no  reasoning  at  all,  (though  the 
illative  particle  _/br  evidently  requires  it,) 
nothing  but  a  most  insipid  and  frivolous  as- 
sertion. "  For,  in  many  things,  we  that 
are  not  real  Christians  offend !"  Is  this  a 
discovery  worthy  of  apostolical  wisdom  ?  Is 
this  all  that  the  inspired  St.  James  meant 
to  declare  ?  You  and  I  could  have  told  him 
and  his  people  a  great  deal  more.  Whoso- 
ever is  not  a  real  Christian  offends,  not  in 
many  things  only,  but  in  every  thing.  To 
such  a  one,  nothing  is  pure  ;  his  mind  and 
conscience  are  defiled ;  his  whole  life  is 
sin. 

We  have  examined  this  objection  as  it 
stands  in  itself.  Let  us  now  take  a  view 
of  it  as  it  may  appear  in  its  consecpiences. 
"  In  many  things  we  offend  all." — "  The 
apostle  speaks  not  of  himself,  nor  of  real 
Christians."  What  fine  work  woidd  our 
adversaries  make  with  the  Scriptures,  if  we 
should  allow  them  Mr.  Wesley's  liberty  of 
interpretation  !  Tell  a  Pelagian,  tlurt  all 
mankind  is  depraved  ;  prove  the  imiversal 
depravity  by  that  abasing  text,  "  All  wo, 
like  sheep,  have  gone  astray  -."  How  easily 


*  Theoriginal  is,  not  kv^ioi,  masters,  but  S<?a»'- 
xa>.i>i,  teachers. 

t  Jviliiiiicnt,    ronrlemiiatiun.      'Pile   wonl   *^',''« 
may  be  talicii  in  both  these  si;!uificalci)u  ;. 


5' 8 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


may  he  reply,  All  we,  docs  not  mean  all 
mankind  ;  the  prophet  speaks  not  of  him- 
self, nor  of  virtuous  persons  ;  but  only  of 
profane  people,  and  men  of  the  baser  sort. 
Tell  an  Arian,  that  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
is  very  God  :  confirm  the  glorious  truth  by 
that  most  cogent  text,  "  In  him  dwells  all 
the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  :"  The  heretic 
has  nothing  more  to  do  than,  in  Mr.  Wes- 
ley's manner,  to  answer,  All  fulness  does  not 
mean  all  the  divine  perfections,  but  only 
some  pittance  or  portion  of  them.  Dear 
Sir.  whenever  you  are  disposed  to  criticise 
again,  let  me  beseech  you  to  consider  a  lit- 
tle the  import  of  language,  and  the  conse- 
quences of  things. 

Had  the  words  been,  "  In  many  things 
we  offend,"  you  might,  by  disregarding  the 
context,  have  borrowed  some  slight  seem- 
ing countenance  for  your  criticism  from  the 
ninth  verse,  where  the  apostle  is  supposed 
to  personate  the  wicked,  "  Therewith  curse 
we  man."  But  in  the  place  under  consi- 
deration, he  enlarges  the  sentiment,  and 
strengthens  the  language  :  though  free  from 
that  particular  crime,  he  was  not  free  from 
this  general  charge.  Here  therefore  he 
spares  not  himself ;  he  takes  shame  to  him- 
self; and  teaches  the  most  upright  of  the 
human  race,  to  plead  guilty  before  their 
Judge.  We  the  servants  of  God  ;  we  the 
ambassadors  of  Christ ;  we  all,  not  one  ex- 
cepted, in  many  things  offend.  Where  then 
could  thei/,  and  oh  !  where  can  you  and  /, 
look  for  our  perfection,  but  only  in  our  di- 
vinely gracious  Surety,  Bridegroom,  Head  ? 
There  let  us  seek,  where  some  excellent 
lines  Cwhose  author  you  may  probably  know) 
have  taught  us  to  find  it : 

Now  let  me  climb  perfection's  height. 

And  into  nothing  fall ; 
Be  less  than  nothing  in  thy  sight, 

Vl'hile  Christ  is  all  in  all. 

In  the  paragraph  which  begins,  "  O  chil- 
dren of  Adam,"  you  do  not  distinguish  what 
the  law  is  made  to  speak,  according  to  a 
new  scheme  of  divinity ;  and  what  it  really 
does  speak  to  true  believers,  on  the  princi- 
ples of  the  gospel.  Give  me  leave  to  rec- 
tify your  mistakes,  and  to  point  out  the 
manner  in  which  you  should  have  express- 
ed yourself. 

To  rectify  your  mistakes. — You  suppose 
the  law,  upon  Aspasio's  plan,  speaking  to 
this  effect :  "  O  children  of  Adam,  you  are 
no  longer  obliged  to  love  the  Lord  your  God 
with  all  your  heart."  Indeed  you  are.  The 
obligation  remains,  and  is  unalterable  ;  but 
it  has  been  fully  satisfied,  as  the  condition 
of  life  and  immortality,  by  the  believer's 
glorious  Surety.  "  Once  I  insisted  on  ab- 
solute purity  of  heart ;  now  I  can  dispense 
with  some  degrees  of  evil  desire."  No  such 
thing.  Every  dogree  of  evil  desire  I  con- 
demn   with    inexorable    rigour;    but  every 


such  offence  has  been  thus  condemned,  and 
thus  punished,  in  the  flesh  of  your  crucified 
Lord.  "  Since  Christ  has  fulfilled  the  law 
for  you,  you  need  not  fulfil  it :"  Rather,  you 
need  not  fulfil  it  in  order  to  the  justification 
of  your  persons,  or  to  obtain  eternal  life  and 
glory.  This,  to  you  the  greatest  of  impos- 
sibilities, has  been  performed  in  your  be- 
half by  a  Mediator  and  Redeemer,  to  whom 
nothing  is  impossible.  "  I  will  connive  at, 
yea,  accommodate  my  demands  to  your 
weakness."  Not  this,  but  what  is  much 
better  :  I  see  no  sinful  weaknesses  in  you  ; 
because  they  are  all  covered  with  the  re- 
splendent robe  of  your  Saviour's  righteous- 
ness ;  therefore,  I  no  longer  curse,  but  bless 
you,  and  sign  your  title  to  everlasting  hap- 
piness. Thus  the  enmity  of  our  nature  is 
slain  ;  thus  the  precepts,  even  the  strictest 
precepts,  become  amiable  and  desirable. 
We  love  the  law,  which,  through  our  dear 
Redeemer,  is  no  longer  against  us,  but  on 
our  side  ;  is  a  messenger  of  peace,  and  bears 
witness  to  our  completeness  in  Christ. 

The  manner  in  which  you  should  have  ex- 
pressed yourself. — This  is  what  the  law 
speaks,  according  to  Aspasio's  doctrine : 
"  O  believers  in  Christ,  I  am,  like  my  di- 
vine Author,  consummate  and  unchangea- 
ble. I  did  require,  I  do  require,  and  ever 
shall  require  perfect  love  to  God,  perfect 
charity  to  your  neighbour,  and  perfect  holi- 
ness both  in  heart  and  life.  Never  abating 
one  tittle  of  these  my  requirements,  I  shall 
denounce  the  curse  upon  every  disobedience, 
upon  the  least  departure  from  absolute  per- 
fection.  But  this  is  your  comfort,  believers, 
that  the  curse  is  executed  upon  your  most 
holy  Surety  :  This  is  your  comfort,  believers, 
that  my  precepts  have  been  fully  obeyed  by 
Jesus  your  Saviour.  As  this  was  done  in 
your  nature,  and  in  your  stead,  I  am  satisfi- 
ed, and  you  are  justified.  Now,  though  I 
can  never  dispense  with  any  faidt,  nor  con- 
nive at  any  infirmity,  yet  I  behold  all  your 
faults  laid  upon  Immanuel ;  I  behold  all  his 
righteousness  put  upon  you ;  and  on  his 
account  I  acquit  you,  I  accept  you,  and 
pronounce  you  righteous."* 

This  is  the  language  of  the  law  to  the 
faithful,  as  they  are  in  Christ  Jesus  :  This 
is  the  Spirit  of  Aspasio's  conversation  with 
his  friend  Theron.  The  native  tendency 
of  this  doctrine,  and  its  powerful  agency  in 
producing  true  holiness,  are  professedly  dis- 
played in  the  tenth  letter,  and  not  obscurely 
hinted  in  various  other  places.  If  you  can 
prove  that  it  has  a  contrary  tendency,  you 
will  prove  that  the  grace  of  God  does  no 
longer  teach  us  to  deny,  but  prompts  us  to 


»  I  think  it  is  no  misrepresentation  to  suppose  the 
1.1W  sppak  iif;  in  thism.-inncr  to  the  believers;  because 
to  tbrm  "  all  tilings  aie  become  new:"  Consequent- 
ly, tbo  voi^-e  of  tie  la*'  is  new  :  because  "  all  tliinj;'' 
are  tlicir's." 


REV.  MR   WESLEY. 


rommit  ungodlinese  :  An  attempt  in  which, 
with  all  my  esteem  to  your  person,  and  de- 
ference for  your  abilities,  I  cannot  wish  you 
God  speed. 

"  Does  the  righteousness  of  God  ever 
mean  (as  you  affirm)  the  merits  of  Christ  ?" 
Where  do  I  affirm  this,  Sir  ?  Be  pleased  to 
jjroduce  the  passage  ;  at  least  refer  us  to  the 
l)age.  Aspasio,  in  the  place  which  offends 
you,  speaks  of  what  Christ  has  done  and 
s^uffered — of  his  active  and  passive  obedi- 
ence. These  expressions  you  change  into 
"  the  merits  of  Christ ;"  which  being  an 
ambiguous  phrase,  may  serve  to  perplex  the 
cause,  rather  than  clear  up  the  difficulty. 
Give  me  leave,  therefore,  to  restore  Aspa- 
bio's  words,  and  to  state  the  question  fairly. 

"  Does  the  righteousness  of  God  ever 
signify  the  active  and  passive  obedience  of 
Christ  ?"  To  this  Mr.  Wesley  replies,  "  I  be- 
lieve not  once  in  all  the  Scripture."  Why  then, 
air,  do  you  not  disprove  what  Aspasio  has 
tidvanced  in  support  of  this  interpretation  ? 
You  believe  one  thing,  he  believes  another. 
And  there  is  this  little  difference  in  the 
ground  you  respectively  go  upon  :  He  ap- 
j.eais  to  argument  and  Scripture  ;  you  rest 
t!ie  whole  matter  upon  this  single  bottom, 
•'  J  believe  so." 

You  proceed :  "  It  (that  is,  the  righte- 
ousness of  (xod)  often  means,  and  particu- 
larly in  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  God's 
method  of  justifying  sinners."  Sujjpose  I 
should  say  in  my  turn,  This  j>hnise  never 
means,  no,  not  in  the  E{)istle  to  the  Ro- 
mans, God's  method  of  justifying  sinners  ; 
1  should  then  argue  in  your  own  way — 
bring  a  shield  suited  to  your  sword  :  Just 
as  good  an  argument  to  defend,  as  you  have 
brought  to  destroy  my  opinion.  What  would 
the  judicious  reader  say  on  such  an  occa- 
sion ?  Would  he  not  snnle  and  cry,  "  A 
goodly  pair  of  disputants  truly  !" 

But  let  me  ask.  Does  the  holiness  of 
God  signify  his  method  of  sanctifying  sin- 
ners ?  Does  the  wisdom  of  God  signify  his 
method  of  making  sinners  wise?  This  no 
mortal  has  suspected  -.  This  )ou  yourself 
will  hardly  venture  to  assert.  Why  then 
should  we  take  your  word,  when,  without 
assigning  the  least  reason,  you  dictate  and 
declare,  "  The  righteousness  of  God  means 
his  method  of  justifying  sinners  ?"  You 
must  pardon  us,  Sir,  if  we  prefer  St.  Peter's 
judgment :  His  judgment  in  thit  memora- 
ble passage,  "  Who  have  obtained  like  pre- 
cious faith  in  the  righteousness  of  our  God, 
even  of  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ."  This 
sentence  is  a  key  to  ail  those  texts  in  the 
New  Testament,  and  many  of  those  in  the 
Old,  which  mention  the  righteousness  of 
God.  Here  it  necessarily  signifies  the 
righteousness  of  Christ ;  because  none  else 
is  our  God  and  Saviour  ;  Here  it  confess- 
edly signifies  the  object  of  justifying  faith; 


which  cannot  be  the  essential  righteous- 
ness of  an  absolute  Cod,  but  must  be 
the  vicarious  righteousness  of  an  incar- 
nate God.  And  why  should  you  scrui)le 
to  call  the  righteousness  of  Christ  the  right- 
eousness of  God,  since  his  blood  is  called 
the  blood  of  God  :  his  life,  which  he  laid 
down  for  us,  is  called  the  Tife  of  God  ;  and 
he  himself,  as  the  Author  of  our  salvation, 
is  called  Jehovah  (or  God  self-existent  and 
everlasting)  our  righteousness  ? 

It  is  possible  you  may  produce  some  com- 
mentators of  eminence,  who  coincide,  or  have 
led  the  way,  in  this  interpretation  ;  but  may 
we  not  ask  them,  as  well  as  yourself,  On 
what  authority  they  proceed?  Is  this  the 
plain  and  natural  signification  of  the  words  ? 
No  ;  but  an  apparent  force  upon  their  naluial 
import.  Does  this  tend  to  fix  and  asce.  lain 
the  sense  of  the  passage  ?  No  ;  but  it  gives 
the  passage  such  a  rambling  turn  as  will  ac- 
commodate itself  to  the  sentiments  of  Arians 
or  Socinians,  Arminians  or  Papists.  Is  this 
reconcilable  with  the  tenor  of  Scripture  ? 
"  He  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,  \\  lio 
knew  no  sin,  that  we  might  be  made  the 
righteousness  of  God  in  him."  RLike  a  trial 
of  your  interpretation  upon  this  distinguish- 
ed text :  See  how  it  will  accord  with  con.- 
mon  sense,  or  the  analogy  of  faith.  Tlmt 
we  mhjht  he  made  the  mjhteousness  of  God ; 
that  is.  That  we  might  be  made  God's  me- 
thod of  justifying  sinners.  Can  you  your- 
self, Sir,  upon  an  impartial  review',  be  pUastd 
with  such  interpretations  of  sacred  writ  ? 

How  much  more  noble,  and  how  nuich 
more  comfortable,  is  the  easy  and  obvious 
sense  which  the  words,  in  a  most  beautiful 
climax,  afford  !  He  made  Christ — who  was 
perfectly  free  from  sin,  both  in  heart  and  life, 
God  made  him — to  be  sin,  justly  chargeable 
with  it,  and  justly  punishable  for  it ;  that 
we,  who  are  full  of  sin,  both  original  and  ac- 
tual, might  be  made  rhjldeous  ;  and  not  bare- 
ly righteous,  but,  which  is  a  niuch  stronger 
expression,  liyhteousitess  itstif,  yea,  that  we 
might  be  made,  what  exceeds  all  parallel, 
and  passes  all  understanding,  the  riijhteovs- 
ness  of  God!  Might  have  that  very  righteous- 
ness for  our  justification,  which  the  God  of 
all  perfection,  uniting  himself  to  our  nature, 
wrought,  finished,  and  infinitely  ennobled. 

Mr.  Samuel  <  laik,  in  his  aiuiotations  on 
this  verse,  on  Rom.  i.  17,  on  Rom.  x.  3, 
writes  in  the  same  vague  and  unsatisfactory 
maimer  as  yourself.  1  could  mention  aiu)ther 
celebiated  conmientator,  who  leans  to  this 
timid  and  trimming  scheme.  I  speak  thus 
freely,  because  I  look  upon  the  article  of 
justification  through  the  righteousness  of 
our  God  and  Saviour,  to  be  the  supreme 
distinguishing  glory  of  Christianity;  because 
I  consider  it  as  the  richest,  incomparably  the 
riciu'st,  jirivilege  of  the  Christian.  To  have 
a  lighteousness,    a  consunuuatc   righteous- 


fi20 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


ress,  the  very  righteousness  of  the  incarnate 
God,  dignified  with  all  the  perteetions  of  the 
divine  natuie — to  have  this  righteousness 
imputed  for  our  justification  !  Matchless,  in- 
conceivahle  blessing  !  This  fills  the  believer's 
heart  with  inexpressible  comfort  and  joy  ; 
this  displays  the  grace  of  God  in  the  most 
charming  and  transporting  light ;  this  con- 
stitutes the  most  engaging  motive  to  love,  to 
holiness,  and  to  all  willing  obedience. 

Let  us  not  then  treat  of  it  in  such  'dilut- 
ing terms,  or  in  such  a  compromising  strain, 
as  shall  defeat  the  efficacy  of  the  heavenly 
cordial,  or  deliver  up  the  precious  depositum 
to  the  enemies  of  the  gospel.  Let  us  rather, 
by  a  clear  and  full  manifestation  of  the  truth, 
of  this  capital  and  leading  truth  especially, 
commend  ourselves  to  every  man's  con 
science.  Their  humour  may  dislike  it, 
their  prejudice  may  reject  it,  but  their  con- 
science, whenever  it  awakes,  and  gains  the 
ascendant,  will  embrace  it,  will  cleave  to  it, 
and  rejoice  in  it. 

15  ut  stay.  Let  me  proceed  cautiously ; 
not  triumph  immaturely.  You  rally  your 
forces,  and  prepare  for  a  fresh  attack.  As- 
pasio  tells  his  friend,  That  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  signifies  a  righteousness  of  the 
most  super-eminent  dignity  ;  such  as  is  wor- 
thy to  be  called  by  his  name,  and  may  justly 
challenge  his  acceptance.  To  this  you  re- 
ply, "  I  cannot  allow  it  at  all."  Aspasio 
supports  his  opinon  by  Scriptm*e,  by  reason, 
and  by  a  very  respectable  authority.  All 
which  Mr.  Wesley  would  confront  and  over- 
throw, by  that  one  irrefragable  proof,  "  I 
cainiot  pIIow  it  at  all."  Surely,  said  I,  up- 
on reading  such  controversial  triflings,  de- 
livered with  the  air  of  oracular  responses, 
surely  this  letter  must  have  stolen  its  way 
into  the  world ;  it  was  designed  as  a  preser- 
vative for  Mr.  Wesley's  private  societies 
only  ;  it  could  never  be  intended  for  public 
view,  and  general  examination  ;  since  every 
reader  is  treated,  not  as  his  judge,  no,  nor 
as  his  equal,  but  as  his  pupil :  Not  as  one 
that  is  to  be  addressed  with  argument,  and 
convinced  by  reasoning,  but  as  a  tame  dis- 
ciple, that  is  to  acquiesce  in  the  great  pre- 
ceptor's solemn  say  so. 

To  your  next  paragraph  I  have  no  mate- 
rial objection.  I  might  indeed  complain  of 
an  unfair  quotation  ;  but  I  shall  only  ob- 
serve, that  you  would  discard  the  expression, 
imputation  of  righteousness,  and  insert  in  its 
stead,  interest  in  Christ.  You  had  not  al- 
ways, Sir,  such  an  aversion  to  the  ^phrase 
imputed.  Witness  that  stanza  in  one  of  your 
hymns. 

Let  faith  and  love  combine 

To  guard  your  valiant  breast, 
Ttic  plate  be  righteousness  divine, 

I/npnted  and  imprest. 

However,  in  this  place  I  am  willing  to 
gratify  you  ;  because  it  will  be  difficult  to 
shew  how  a  sinner  can  have  a  real  interest  in 


Christ,  in  what  he  has  done  and  what  he 
has  suffered,  any  other  way  than  by  imputa- 
tion. I  am  willing  to  gratify  you,  provided 
you  do  not  entertain  that  strange  conceit,  of 
an  incomplete  interest,  or  an  interest  in 
half  the  Redeemer ;  but  look  upon  the  holi- 
ness of  his  nature,  the  obedience  of  his  life, 
and  the  atonement  of  his  death,  as  the  one 
undivided  ineffable  treasure,  in  which  every 
believing  sinner  is  interested  ;  as  that  which 
is  the  all-sufficient  cause  of  his  justification; 
rendering  acceptable,  first  his  person,  then 
his  performances,  and,  at  the  last,  introdiic- 
ing  him,  with  dignity  and  triumph,  into  ever- 
lasting habitations. 

Here  I  lay  down  my  pen ;  unless  you  will 
permit  me  to  relate  a  little  piece  of  history, 
not  foreign  to  your  last  sentiment. — A  cer- 
tain general  happened  to  observe  a  common 
soldier  distinguishing  himself,  on  the  day  of 
battle,  with  uncommon  activity  and  courage. 
Determined  to  reward  merit  wherever  it  was 
found,  he  advanced  the  brave  plebeian  to  a 
captain's  post ;  who  had  not  long  enjoyed  the 
honour,  before  he  came  to  his  benefactor, 
and,  'with  a  dejected  countenance,  begged 
leave  to  resign  his  commission.  The  general, 
surprised  at  such  an  unexpected  request,  ask- 
ed him  the  reason.  Your  officers,  said  the 
petitioner,  being  gentlemen  of  family  and 
education,  think  it  beneath  them  to  associate 
or  converse  with  a  rustic.  So  that  now  I 
am  abandoned  on  every  side ;  and  am  less 
happy,  since  my  preferment,  than  I  was  be- 
fore this  instance  of  your  highness's  favour. 
Is  this  the  cause  of  your  uneasiness  ?  replied 
the  general ;  then  it  shall  be  redressed,  and 
very  speedily.  To-morrow  I  review  the 
army,  and  to-morrow  your  business  shall 
be  done.  Accordingly,  when  the  troops 
were  drawn  up,  and  expected  every  moment 
to  begin  their  exercise,  the  general  calls  the 
young  hero  from  the  ranks,  leans  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  in  this  familiar  en- 
dearing posture,  walks  with  him  through  all 
the  lines.  The  stratagem  had  its  desired 
effect.  After  such  a  signal  and  public  token 
of  his  prince's  regard,  the  officers  were  desir- 
ous of  his  acquaintance,  and  courted,  rather 
than  shunned  his  company. 

And  will  not  the  favour  of  the  blessed 
Jesus  give  us  as  great  a  distinction,  and  as 
high  a  recommendation  in  the  heavenly 
world  ?  Will  not  the  angelic  hosts  respect 
and  honour  those  persons  who  appear  wash- 
ed in  his  blood,  clothed  with  his  righteous- 
ness, and  wearing  the  most  illustrious  to- 
kens of  his  love  that  he  himself  could  pos- 
sibly give  ?  In  these  tokens  of  his  love  may 
we  and  our  readers  be  found  !  Then  shall 
we  meet  one  another  with  courage  and  com- 
fort at  the  great  tribunal  ;  with  honour  and 
joy  amidst  the  angels  of  light;  with  ever, 
lasting  exultation  and  rapttue  arounil  the 
throne  of  the  Luinb. 


REV.  Mir.  WESLEY. 


521 


Uniler  sucli   pli-asing  hopes,    I   take   my 
icave  at  present,  and  remain  yoiirs^  &c. 


LETTER  VIII. 

Reverend  Sir, — You  introduce  the 
paragraph  that  comes  next  under  our  consi- 
deration by  a  very  just  distinction.  Aspasio 
had  observed,  that  a  rebel  may  be  forgiven, 
without  being  restored  to  the  dignity  of  a 
son.  To  which  you  reply,  "  A  rei)el  against 
an  earthly  king  may,  but  not  a  rebel  against 
God.  In  the  very  same  moment  that  God 
forgives,  we  are  the  sons  of  God."  This  is 
perfectly  right.  But  hence  to  infer,  that 
the  conversation  of  our  two  friends  is  no 
better  than  "an  idle  dispute,"  is  not  very 
polite,  and  not  at  all  conclusive ;  because, 
remission  of  the  offence,  and  restoration  to 
favour,  may  come  in  the  same  moment,  and 
yet  be  different  blessings.  That  afflicted 
patient,  mentioned  in  the  gospel,  had,  at 
the  same  instant,  his  ears  opened  and  the 
string  of  his  tongue  loosed.  Were  these 
effects,  therefore,  one  and  the  same  kind  of 
healing  ?  Besides,  why  are  forgiveness 
and  sonship  united  in  the  divine  dona- 
tion ?  Because  the  sufferings  of  a  sinner, 
and  the  obedience  of  a  son,  were  united  in 
the  divine  Redeemer.  So  that  we  must 
still  have  our  eye,  our  believing  and  adoring 
eye,  upon  the  meritorious  righteousness  of 
our  Ijord. 

"  Pardon  and  acceptance  through,"  &c. 
Here  I  see  nothing  but  the  cramhe  rcpetita. 
— "  Tiie  words  of  Job,"  &c.  Here  I  see 
nothing  but  the  usual  argument,  our  master's 
ijisc  ili.iit.  Therefore  we  will  pass  on  to 
the  next  period. 

Two  texts  of  Scripture  are  produced. 
You  set  aside  Aspasio's  interpretation,  to 
make  way  for  one  of  your  own  ;  which 
niiglit  have  passed  without  suspicion,  if  it 
had  apiieared  in  your  sermons,  or  been  de- 
livered from  your  pulpit ;  where  a  person 
may  ho  content  with  the  general  sense,  with- 
out entering  upon  a  critical  nicety.  But, 
by  rejecting  Aspasio's  exposition,  you  seem 
to  intend  a  peculiar  degree  of  accuracy. 
Let  us  then  examine  the  passages  with  such 
a  view.  "  Grace  reigneth  through  righte- 
ousness unto  eternal  life  ;  that  is,  the  free 
love  of  God  brings  us  through  justification 
and  sanctification  to  glory." 

In  this,  I  ((uestion.  Sir,  whether  you  are 
exactly  orthodox.  You  lead  the  reader  to 
suppose,  that  sanctification  is  as  much  the 
cause  of  glory  as  justification  ;  that  Christ's 
work,  and  our  graces,  have  just  the  same 
weight,  act  in  the  very  same  eai)acity,  have 
at  least  a  joint  influence  in  |)rocuring  eter- 
nal life.  You  should  rather  have  expressed 
vourself  in  sonic  such  maimer  ;    "  The  free 


grace  of  God  brings  us,  through  the  joyful 
privilege  of  justification,  first  to  sanctifica- 
tion, or  the  love  of  his  blessed  self,  then  to 
glory,  or  the  enjoyment  of  his  blessed  self." 

Besides,  you  neglect  the  significancy  of 
that  beautiful  and  enjphatical  word,  rdijiicth. 
On  this  much  stress  ought  to  be  laid  in 
reading  the  sentence ;  therefore  it  ought 
not  to  be  totally  overlooked  in  explaining 
the  sentence.  Grace  is  discovered  in  other 
instances  ;  grace  is  exercised  in  other  bless- 
ings ;  but  by  giving  us  eternal  life,  by  giv- 
ing it  freely,  even  when  we  are  undeserving 
guilty  creatures,  this  ever-amiable  attribute 
reiynet/t.  It  is  manifested  with  every  grand 
and  charming  recommendation.  It  appears 
like  the  illustrious  Solomon,  when  seated 
on  his  inimitably  splendid  throne  of  ivory 
and  gold,  or  like  the  magnificent  Ahasuerus, 
when  he  "  showed  the  riches  of  his  glorious 
kingdom,  and  the  honour  of  his  excellent 
majesty." 

Another  particular  I  caimot  persuade 
myself  to  admire.  You  change  the  word 
righteousness  into  juslification.  Instead  of 
saying,  "  Brings  us  through  righteousness," 
you  say,  •■'  Brings  us  through  justification." 
By  this  language  you  scarcely  distinguish 
yourself  from  any  heretic.  You  miiy  rank 
with  the  Arian,  or  with  the  sectarist  of  any 
denomination.  They  will,  every  one,  allow 
the  necessity  of  justification  in  order  to  final 
felicity  ;  but  not  the  necessity  of  a  righte- 
ousness adequate  to  the  demands  of  the 
law,  as  a  foundation  for  this  blessed  hope. 
You  do  just  the  same  injury  to  Christ  and 
his  righteousness,  which  obtain  this  incon- 
ceivable recompense  of  reward,  as  you 
would  receive  from  a  messenger  who  car- 
ries a  rich  present  to  your  friend,  but  will 
not  acknowledge  from  whom  it  comes:  It 
comes,  he  confesses,  from  some  man,  but 
obstinately  refuses  to  say  from  Mr.  John 
Wesley.  Whereas,  Aspasio  scruples  not 
to  own,  nay  rejoices  to  declare,  from  whence 
the  invaluable  benefit  of  justification  pro- 
ceeds. Not  from  works  of  the  law,  no,  nor 
from  works  of  the  si)irit ;  from  nothing 
done  by  us,  from  nothing  wrought  in  us; 
but  wholly  from  the  blood  and  obedience  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

The  next  passage  on  which  you  descant 
is,  "  That  they  may  receive  forgiveness,  and 
a  lot  among  the  sanctified."  Thus  you 
translate  the  original.  Asi)asio,  not  affect- 
ing needless  novelty,  is  content  with  the 
common  version  :  "  That  they  may  receive 
forgiveness  of  sins,  and  inheritance  among 
all  them  that  are  sanctified,  by  faith  that  is 
in  me."  Why  do  you  omit  the  word  sins  ? 
Forgiveness,  I  own,  implies  it;  but  the 
a[)ostle  chooses  to  express  it  ;  by  which 
means,  the  sentence  becomes  more  lull  and 
em|)hatical  ;  griice  is  more  highly  honcnned, 
and  man  more   deeply   abased.      I  wonder 


522 


LETTERS 


also,  why  you  should  prefer  lot  to  inheriicmce, 
which  is  the  usual  translation.  The  latter 
word  conveys  a  much  more  noble  and  pleas- 
ing idea  to  the  English  reader,  than  the 
former. — Receive  forgiveness  of  sins  :  not 
earn  it  (let  us  mark  this)  by  performing 
conditions,  but  receive  it  as  an  absolute 
gift ;  just  as  Joseph's  brethren  received  the 
portions  sent  them  from  the  viceroy  of 
Egypt's  table — Receive  an  inheritance  : 
consisting  of  all  spiritual  blessings  here,  and 
a  title  to  everlasting  blessedness  hereafter. 
All  which  are  bestowed  as  freely,  as  the 
several  portions  of  land  in  Canaan  were,  by 
Moses  and  Joshua,  consigned  over  to  the 
tribes  of  Israel  for  a  possession. — Among 
those  that  are  sanctified.  If  you  should  in- 
quire, how  sinners  are  sanctified  ?  the  an- 
swer is  added,  hy  faith  which  is  in  me  ;  not 

for  faith,  as  your  conditional  scheme  sup- 
poses, but  by  faith.  By  accepting  the  bless- 
ings mentioned,  by  looking  upon  them  as 
your  own  through  the  divine  gift,  and  by 
living  in  the  delightful  enjoyment  of  them  ; 
thus  our  hearts  are  won  to  God,  and  filled 
with  his  love  ;  thus  they  are  weaned  from 
vanity,  and  renewed  in  true  holiness. 

Is  the  satisfaction  made  by  Christ's  death 
sufficient  to  obtain  both  our  full  pardon  and 
our  final  happiness  ?  Aspasio  has  answer- 
ed this  question  in  the  negative.  He  has 
confirmed  his  opinion  by  the  authority  of 
Scripture  and  the  testimony  of  reason.  Mr. 
Wesley  thinks  it  enough  to  reply,  "  Un- 
questionably it  is  sufficient,  and  neither  of 
the  texts  you  cite  prove  the  contrary." 
How  easy,  by  this  way  of  arguing,  to  over- 

.  throw  any  system,  and  silence  demonstra- 
tion itself!  But  pray,  Sir,  be  pleased  to 
recollect  yourself:  Did  you  not,  a  little 
while  ago,  extol  Aspasio  as  "  unquestiona- 
bly right,"  because  he  made  the  universal 
obedience  of  Christ,  from  his  birth  to  his 
death,  the  one  foundation  of  his  hope?  Yet 
here  you  condemn  him  as  "  unquestionably 
wrong,"  because  he  does  not  attribute  all 
to  Christ's  death  exclusively.  Will  Mr. 
Wesley  never  have  done  with  self-contra- 
diction ?  Why  will  he  give  me  such  re- 
peated cause  to  complain,  Quo  teneam  vul- 
tus,  &c.  ? 

If  tt  was  requisite  for  Christ  to  be  bap- 
tized, argues  Aspasio,  much  more  to  fulfil 
the  moral  law.  "  I  catmot  prove  (replies 
Mr.  Wesley,)  that  either  the  one  or  the 
other  was  requisite,  in  order  to  his  purchas- 
ing redemption  for  us."  Why  then  do  you 
admit  his  obedience  to  the  moral  law  as  an 
essential  part  of  the  foundation  of  your 
hope  ?  A  tottering  foundation  methinks, 
which  is  laid  in  a  doctrine  you  cannot  prove. 
But  if  you  cannot  prove  it,  may  not 
others  prove  it  for  you  ?  You  are  not  call- 
ed to  prove  this  point.  Sir,  but  only  to  dis- 
prove what  Aspasio  has  advanced  in  con- 


TO  THE 

firmation  of  it.  Tlmt  ii,  was  requisite  for 
our  Lord  to  be  baptized,  he  himself  acknow- 
ledges. Speaking  of  that  sacred  rite,  he 
says,  "  Thus  it  becometh  us  to  fulfil  all 
righteousness."  It  becometh  :  was  it  not 
requisite  for  Christ  always  to  act  the  be- 
coming part  ?  in  every  circumstance  to  de- 
mean himself  according  to  the  utmost  de- 
corum and  highest  dignity  of  character  ? 
"  This  was  not  requisite  to  purchase  re- 
demption for  us."  For  what  then  was  it  re- 
quisite ?  Not  to  wash  away  any  stain  from 
the  holy  Jesus;  not  to  obtain  any  blessed- 
ness for  the  Son  of  the  highest ;  since,  as 
the  Son  of  the  eternal  God,  he  had  an  un- 
doubted right  to  all  the  blessings  of  hearen 
and  earth,  of  time  and  eternity. 

"  But  it  was  not  requisite  that  he  should 
fulfil  the  moral  law."  No  !  Do  you  then 
establish  the  law  ?  Are  not  you  the  Anti- 
nomian,  «  ho  would  have  sinful  man  saved, 
yet  the  divine  law  not  fulfilled  either  by 
them  or  their  Surety  ?  This  is  a  strange 
way  of  m;ignifying  the  great  standard  of  all 
righteousness  !  Rather,  it  is  the  sure  way 
of  dishonouring  and  debasing  it.  What 
says  our  Lord  ?  "I  came,  not  to  destroy 
the  law,  but  to  fulfil,"  Matth.  v.  IT.  Did 
this  signify,  as  some  expository  refiners  sug- 
gest, only  to  vindicate  and  illustrate  the 
law,  to  explain  its  highest  meaning,  and  res- 
cue it  from  the  false  glosses  of  the  Scribes, 
the  business  might  have  been  done  by  the 
prophets  and  apostles  ;  No  occasion  for  the 
King  of  heaven  to  appear  in  person  :  His 
ambassadors  might  have  transacted  the 
whole  affair  of  vindication  and  explanation. 
But  to  fulfil  every  jot  and  tittle  prescribed 
in  its  commands,  to  sufTer  all  the  vengeance 
and  the  whole  curse  denounced  in  its  pe- 
nalty— this  was  a  work  worthy  of  the  Son  of 
God — practicable  by  none  but  the  Son  of 
God — and,  being  executed  by  him,  is  truly 
meritorious  of  pardon  and  life  for  poor  sin- 
ners ;  of  their  restoration  to  the  divine  fa- 
vour, and  of  their  admission  into  the  hea- 
venly kingdom. 

The  moral  law  is  inviolable  in  its  nature, 
and  of  eternal  obligation.  This  is  a  truth 
of  great  importance  :  With  this  is  connect- 
ed, atid  on  this  depends,  the  absolute  ne- 
cessity of  a  vicarious  righteousness.  lam 
no  longer  surprised  that  you  disjjute  against 
the  latter,  since  you  question  or  deny  the 
former.  But  consider  what  our  Lord  says 
farther  upon  this  subject,  in  the  fifth  of  St. 
Matthew  and  the  eighteenth  verse.  Per- 
haps you  will  reply,  "  I  have  both  consi- 
dered it,  and  expounded  it  in  my  Sermons." 
You  have  ;  but  in  such  a  manner  as  I  hope 
you  will  live  to  retract.  Thus  you  expound 
the  awful  text,  and  turn  it  into  a  piece  of 
UTi meaning  tautology.  "  One  jot  or  one 
tittle  shall  in  no  wise  pfiss,  till  heaven  and 
earth  pass  ;  or  as  it  is  expressed  immediate- 


REV.   MR.   WESLEY. 


523 


ly  after,  ^7/  all  (oi  rather,  all  llniujf)  be  ful- 
\\\\v<\,  (tillthe  consummation  oi' all  things).'" 
You  would  make  teat  av  ?rajsX^jj  o  v^avos  xai 
t;  yn  and  ewf  av  fratra  yivrirai,  synonymous 
];l!rases,  expressive  of  the  same  thing. 
'Jims  stands  the  passage,  interpreted  ac- 
cording to  your  criticism  ;  "  Till  the  con- 
summation of  all  things,  one  jot  or  one  tit- 
ile  shall  in  no  wise  pass  from  the  law,  till 
tliL'  consummation  of  all  things."  See  to 
what  miserable  subterfuges  a  man  of  learn- 
ing is  driven,  in  order  to  evade  the  force  of 
a  text  which  militates  strongly  for  the  me- 
ritorious obedience  of  Christ- 
How  much  more  just,  more  noble,  more 
useful,  is  the  common  exposition,  and  the 
obvious  meaning?  ^Vllich  we  may  thus  in- 
troduce, "  These  are  the  terms  of  life  and 
happiness  to  man  ;  whosoever  falls  short, 
(iod  himself  pronounces  accursed."  And 
will  the  Unchangeable  go  back  from  his 
j)inpose,  make  abatement  in  his  (k-mands, 
or  come  to  a  composition  with  his  crea- 
tures ?  No,  verily.  "  He  is  of  one  miiul, 
and  who  can  turn  him,  Job  xxiii.  13.  It 
were  easier  for  heaven  and  earth  to  pass," 
for  all  nature  to  be  unhinged,  and  the  uni- 
verse to  drop  into^  dissolution,  "  than  for 
one  jot  or  tittle  of  this  unalterable  law  to 
pass  without  a  perfect  accomplishmcnff  in 
every  the  minutest  instance. 

"  By  Christ's  sufferings  alone  the  law  was 
not  satisfied,"  says  Aspasio.  "  Yes,  it  was," 
replies  Mr.  Wesley.  Then  all  the  indefa- 
tigable and  important  labours  of  his  life,  all 
his  exemplary  and  shining  graces,  must  be 
mere  su))ertluilies.  At  least  they  could 
have  no  merit,  but  were  necessary  only  by 
way  of  setting  us  an  example. 

The  prophet  was  of  another  mind  ;  "  The 
Lord  is  well  pleased  for  his  righteousness 
sake."  13y  this  righteousness,  not  barely  by 
his  suHerings,  "he  will  magnify  the  law, 
and  make  it  honourable,"  Isa.  xlii.  21.  The 
iipostle  was  of  another  mind  :  "  God  sent 
forth  his  Son  made  of  a  woman,  made  un- 
der the  law."  What  ?  Only  to  bear  its 
ciu'se?  Only  to  undergo  its  penalty?  Not 
to  fulfil  its  preceptive  part?  which  is  con- 
llssedly  the  princi|)al  part  in  every  law  ; 
a;id  to  enforce  which  all  penalties  are  add- 
ed- You  yourself  ought  to  be  of  another 
mind  ;  for  you  have  already,  and  truly  ob- 
Ki  rved,  that  pardon  and  acceptance  always 
go  together.  "  In  the  same  moment  that 
(mm!  forgives,  we  are  the  sons  of  God." 
v\ii(l  wherefore?  The  reason  is,  because 
the  sufferings  of  a  sinner,  and  the  obedience 


*  .Sermons  l)v  John  Wesley,  vol.  ii.  p.  173. 

t  "  Tlie  word  /d/  (says  Mr.  Wesley)  does  not  mean 
nil  tile  law,  but  all  tlunt;s  ni  the  universe."  How  forc- 
ed a  construction  !  How  contrary  toRranmiar  !  since 
th'j  law,  and  the  things  which  it  comprehends,  are 
tl:c  innnediatc  antecedent.  How  much  more  piopcr- 
ly  and  consistently  has  Dr.  Doddridge  exnlamed  llu- 
Ii",i.ss:ij;e  !  "  Till  all  things  which  the  law  ro(iiiirt»,  or 
j'oretcljs,  shall &c  i^a.-tcil." 


of  a  Son,  went  together  in  the  Redeemer ; 
and  without  this  union  the  redemption  of 
man  had  not  been  complete. 

"  The  law  required  only  the  alternative 
— obey  or  die."  Some  of  your  errors  are 
less  considerable  ;  this  I  take  to  be  a  first. 
rate  mistake.  According  to  this  supposi- 
tion,  Cain,  and  Judas,  and  all  the  damned, 
are  righteous.  Because  the}'  die,  ihey  hear 
the  curse,  they  sulfer  evei  lastingly  ;  and 
thereby  conform  to  one  of  the  law's  alterna- 
tives. One  of  the  law's  alternatives  !  No. 
Here  I  am  wrong  :  It  is  one  of  your  alter- 
natives. The  divine  law  knows  no  such 
thing.  No  law  on  earth  knows  any  such 
thins:.  Sanctions  and  penalties  annexed  to 
a  law,  are  never  looked  upon  as  equivalents 
to  obedience  ;  but  only  as  preservatives  from 
disobedience.  In  all  the  compass  of  your 
reading,  have  you  ever  met  with  a  law  that 
makes  such  proposals  to  its  subjects  :  "  Con- 
form to  the  regulations  established,  and  you 
shall  enjoy  my  privileges,  you  shall  share 
my  honours  ?  Or,  if  you  choose  to  violate 
all  my  wholesome  institutions,  only  sid)mit 
to  the  penalty,  and  you  shall  have  an  equal 
right  to  the  immunities  and  preferments  ?" 

"  The  law  required  no  man  to  obey  and 
die  too."  But  did  it  not  require  a  trans- 
gressor to  obey  and  die  ?  If  not,  then  trans  • 
gression  robs  the  law  of  its  right,  and  vacates 
all  obligation  to  obedience-  Did  it  not  re- 
quire the  Surety  for  sinftd  man  to  obey 
and  die  ?  If  the  Surety  dies  only,  he 
only  delivers  from  punishment  ;  but  this 
affords  no  claim  to  life,  no  title  to  a  re- 
ward, unless  you  can  produce  some  such 
edict  from  the  court  of  heaven,  "  Suffer  this, 
and  thou  shall  live."  I  find  it  written,  "  In 
keeping  thy  commandments  there  is  great 
reward."  Nowhere  do  I  read,  "  In  under- 
going thy  curse,  there  is  the  same  reward.'' 
Whereas,  when  we  join  the  active  and  pas- 
sive obedience  of  om-  Lord,  the  peace-speak- 
ing blood  with  the  life-giving  righteousness 
— both  made  infinitely  meritorious  and  in- 
finitely efficacious  by  the  divine  glory  of  his 
person, — how  full  does  our  justification  ap- 
pear !  How  firm  does  it  stand  !  It  has  all 
that  thelawcan  demand,  both  for  ourexemp- 
tion  from  the  curse,  and  for  otu'  title  to  bliss. 

Before  I  take  my  leave  of  this  topic,  let 
me  make  one  sup])osition,  for  which  your 
way  of  thinking  affords  the  jiisfer  ground- 
Suppose  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  had  yield- 
ed a  perfect  conformity  to  the  precept, 
without  ever  submitting  to  the  penalty; 
would  this  have  been  suilicient  for  the  jus- 
tification of  a  sinner  ?  Here  is  one  of  your 
alternatives  performed-  Upon  the  foot  of 
your  princi|)les,  therefore,  it  would,  it  must 
have  been  stdlieient.  But  this  is  so  wild  an 
opinion,  so  contrary  to  the  whole  current  of 
Seriptiu-e,  that  to  ])roduce  it,  is  to  refute  it. 

W  here  Scripture   ascribes   the  whole   of 


£24 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


our  salvation  to  the  death  of  Christ,  a  pnrt 
of  his  humiliation  is  put  for  the  whole.  To 
this  Mr.  Wesley  objects,  "  I  cannot  allow 
it  without  proof."  I  wish  you  would  re- 
niemher  the  golden  rule,  of  doing  as  you 
would  be  done  by ;  and  since  you  insist  upon 
jiroof  from  others,  not  be  so  sparing  of  it  in 
your  own  cause.  H  wish  likewise  you  would 
impartially  consider  what  Aspasio  has  ad- 
yanced  upon  the  subject.  Has  he  not  given 
you  the  proof  you  demand  ?  No  ;  "  He  was 
obedient  unto  death"  is  no  proof  at  all. 
jBut  is  that  the  only  thing  urged  ?  If  one 
argument  is  inadequate,  must  all  be  incon- 
clusive ?  Because  you  have  routed  one  de- 
tatchment,  have  you  therefore  conquered 
the  whole  army  ?  However,  let  us  see  whe- 
ther this  detachment,  weak  as  you  suppose 
it,  may  not  be  able  to  sustain  your  attack. 

Does  not  the  Scripture  ascribe  the  whole 
of  your  salvation  to  the  death  of  Christ  ? 
To  this  question  Aspasio  replies,  "  This 
part  of  our  Lord's  meritorious  humiliation 
is,  by  a  very  usual  figure,  put  for  the  whole. 
The  death  of  Christ  includes  not  only  his 
sufferings,  but  his  obedience.  The  shed- 
ding of  his  blood  was  at  once  the  grand  in- 
stance of  his  sufferings,  and  the  finishing 
act  of  his  obedience  :  in  this  view  it  is  con- 
sidered, and  thus  it  is  represented  by  his 
own  ambassador,  who,  speaking  of  his  di- 
vine Master,  says,  '  He  was  obedient  unto 
death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross.'  "  "  This 
(you  re])ly)  is  no  proof  at  all,  as  it  does  not 
necessarily  imply  any  more,  than  that  he 
died  in  obedience  to  the  Father." 

How  do  some  people  love  to  cramp  the 
enlarged,  and  debase  the  magnificent  sense 
of  IScripture !  Surely  this  text  implies,  and 
not  implies  only,  but  forcibly  expresses, 
both  the  active  and  passive  obedience  of 
Christ.  It  is  not  a-ziia-^ii,  he  died ;  but  yi- 
vo/^iva;  uTiixoo;,  he  became  obedient.  Can  you 
see  nothing  of  his  active  righteousness  in 
these  words  ?  For  my  part,  I  can  see  very 
little  besides.  This  is  what  the  following 
clause  confirms  (letcommon  sensebe  judge)  : 
Obedient,  not  barely  in  death,  but  unto 
death ;  like  that  expression  of  Jehovah  by 
the  prophet,  "  Unto  hoary  hairs  will  I  carry 
you."  Does  not  this  give  us  a  retrospect 
view  of  youth  and  manhood,  as  well  as  lead 
our  attention  forward  to  old  age?  In  like 
maimer,  obedient  unto  death  :  Does  not  this 
refer  us  to  all  the  previous  duties  and  vir- 
tues of  a  righteous  walk;  while  it  leads  us 
to  the  closing  scene  of  all,  a  resigned  exit  ? 
Does  it  not  most  naturally  mean,  obedient 
through  the  whole  course  of  life,  even  to  the 
last  all  completing  instance,  a  voluntary  sub- 
mission to  death  ?  How  easy  and  obvious 
is  this  interpretation  !  How  grand  and 
graceful  is  this  meaning  ' 

I  can  no  more  admire  )cur  taste,   consi 


dered  as  a  critic,  than  I  can  admire  youf 
doctrine,  considered  as  a  divine.  Give  me 
the  expositions  of  Scripture  which  act,  not 
like  the  nocturnal  damp,  but  like  the  morn- 
ing sun  ;  not  shrivelling  and  contracting, 
but  opening  and  expanding  those  flowers  of 
paradise,  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  that  they 
may  display  all  their  charming  beauties,  and 
breathe  out  all  their  reviving  odours.  I 
think,  upon  the  whole,  we  have  very  suffi- 
cient cause  to  assert,  and  to  abide  by  our 
assertion,  that  when  the  Scripture  ascribes 
the  whole  of  our  salvation  to  the  death  o5 
Christ,  a  part  of  his  humiliation  is  put  for 
the  whole  ;  and,  in  thus  speaking,  the  Holy 
Spirit  copies  after  himself :  For  if  the  death 
inflicted  on  the  first  Adam  included  every 
evil  consequent  upon  the  fall — the  depravity 
as  well  as  the  misery  of  the  creature — it  was 
meet  that  the  death  to  which  the  second 
Adam  submitted  should  include  every  good 
needful  for  our  recovery ;  the  obedience  as 
well  as  the  sufferings  of  the  Redeemer.  It 
was  meet  that  the  price,  expressed  by  the 
same  word,  should  be  as  extensive  as  the 
punishment. 

"  But  how  does  it  appear  that  he  under- 
took this  before  the  foundation  of  the  world?" 
At  what  time  does  Mr.  Wesley  suppose 
that  Christ  undertook  the  work  ?  Not  till 
sin  entered  and  man  apostatized  ?  Was  it 
then  an  incidental  upstart  expedient,  fetched 
in  to  remedy  some  unforeseen  disaster?  Was 
it  a  device  which  owed  its  birth  to  some  un- 
expected contingency,  occasioned  by  the 
perverseness  of  the  creature  ?  Far,  far  from 
it :  It  was  the  grand,  original,  all-compre- 
hending plan  J  the  way  in  which  God,  long 
before  time  commenced,  decreed  to  mani- 
fest the  glory  of  his  grace,  and  the  lustre  of 
all  his  perfections.  The  world  was  made  as 
a  proper  theatre  on  which  to  display  and  ex- 
ecute this  most  magnificent  scheme  ;  and  all 
the  revolutions  of  human  affairs,  like  so 
many  under-plots  in  the  drama,  are  subser- 
vient to  the  accomplishment  of  this  capital 
design.  "  Known  unto  God  are  all  his 
works;"  determined  by  God  are  all  his 
counsels  "  from  the  begiiuiingof  the  world;" 
more  especially  this  grandest  of  all  the  di- 
vine dispensations,  this  masterpiece  of  his 
unsearchable  wisdom. 

"  But  was  this  by  a  j)ositive  covenant  be- 
tween Christ  and  the  Fathei'  ?"  Aspasio 
proceeds  to  illustrate  and  confirm  the  doc- 
trine of  an  everlasting  covenant  between 
the  almighty  Father  and  his  co-equal  Son. 
He  produces  several  texts  of  Scripture,  to 
each  of  which  you  object  as  insufficient  for 
his  purpose.  Each  of  your  objections  1 
hall  answer  only  by  adding  a  .short  com- 
ment, explanatory  of  their  sjjiiit  and  force. 
This  proves  no  previous  contract  :"  That 
IS,    I  deny   it ;    and   therefore  you  cunnol 


REV.  MR.   WESLEY. 


525 


l>vove  your  point.  "  Neither  does  this 
|iiove  Hiiy  such  thing:"  Tliiit  is,  1  eainioi 
tir  will  not  see  the  proof;  and  tlierefore 
t  lie  re  is  none.  "  That  expression  does  not 
necessarily  imply  any  more" — than  I  please 
to  allow.  "  In  the  way  or  method  he  had 
( hosen  ;"  of  whieh  I  am  the  sole  complete 
judge,  and  my  judgment  ought  to  be  deci- 
sive in  tile  case.  Thus  would  Mr.  Wesley 
have,  not  Aspasio  only,  hut  the  public  also, 
receive  his  dictates  fldiK/iuim  a  tripude)  as 
absolute  oracles  ;  for  here  is  only  bare  as- 
sertion, or  bare  denial,  without  any  vouch- 
ers but  his  own  word,  without  any  authori- 
ty but  his  own  declaration. 

In  Psalm  the  xlth,  the  conditions  of  the 
covenant     are     circumstantially     recorded, 
which  were  the  incarnation  and  obedience 
of  the  eternal   Son  :   "  A  body  hast  thou 
prepared  me  :    Lo  !  I  come  to  do  thy  will." 
'•  Nay,  here  is  no  mention  of  any  covenant, 
nor  any  thing  from  which  it  can  be  inferred." 
How  many  times  shall   I  adjure  thee,  said 
Ahab   to   Micaiah,  that  thou   tell   me   no- 
thing but  that  which  is  true?     And  how 
many  times  shall  I  entreat  Mr.  Wesley  to 
object  nothing,  without  assigning  some  rea- 
son  for   his   objection  ?      At  least  not  to 
think  of  convincing  my  judgment,  and  con- 
verting me  to  his  opinion  by  a  bare  say  so. 
But  I  have  done.     Perhaps  I   have  tres- 
passed upon  the  patience  of  the  reader  in 
expressing  my  disappointment  so  frequent- 
ly ;  perhiips  I  may  also  bear  too  hard  upon 
Mr.  Wesley  in   asking  for  proofs,  when  it 
may  be  no  small  difficulty  to  produce  them. 
To  return  :   "  Nay,  here  is  no  mention  of 
any  covenant,  nor  any  thing  from  which  it 
can  be  inferred."     That  the  word  covenant 
is  not  mentioned  is  very  true  ;  that  there  is 
no  reference  to  any  such  thing,  is  not  so 
certain.     Let  us  consider  the  whole  pas- 
sage :    "  Sacrifice  and    burnt-offering  thou 
didst  not  require."     If  sacrifices  and  slain 
beasts  are  not  the  object  of  the  divine  com- 
placency, in   «hat  will  the  Lord  delight ? 
The  next  words  declare,  "  A  body  hast  thou 
prepared  me:"  Since  the  law  cannot  be  ful- 
filled  without    (him/,    nor  justice  satisfied 
w  itlioiit  (li/iiitj,  "  Lo  !   I  come,"   (says  the 
f^econd  person  in  the  Trinity,)    "  to  under- 
take both :    Since  this  undertaking  must  be 
accomplished  by  one  who  is  finite,  that  he 
may  die,  and  infinite,  that  he  may  conquer 
death,  1  will  accomplish  it  in  the  divine  and 
human  nature.     For  this   purpose,  a  liody 
hast  thou  prepared  me  :  in  this  body,  lo  !  I 
come,  willingly  and   cheerfully   I  come,  to 
perform,  to  sustain,  to  fulfil   all  ;  and  so  to 
do  thy  great,  thy  gracious  will."      I\Tay  we 
not  rationally  su])i)t)se   this  sjiokcn  by  way 
of  re-stipulation,   or  com[)liance    with  the 
Father's    demands  ?     that    the    matter    is 
thereby  brought  to  a  solemn  coiitract  ? 
iJr.  llannnond  thought  this  no  irrational 


supposition  ;  therefore  gives  ns  upon  the 
following  words  a  perfectly  corresponding 
comment.  In  the  volume  of  the  hook  it  in 
written  of  me  : — "  Which  is  no  other  than  a 
;;ill  or  roll  of  contract  between  the  Father 
and  Christ,  wherein  is  supposed  to  be  writ- 
ten the  agreement  preparatory  to  that  great 
work  of  Christ's  incarnation  ;  wherein  he, 
undertaking  to  fulfil  the  will  of  God,  toper- 
form  all  active,  and  also  all  passive  obedi- 
ence, even  unto  death,'had  the  promise  from 
God  that  he  should  become  the  author  of 
eternal  salvation  to  all  that  obey  him." 

Thus  says  our  learned  countryman.  And 
what  says  the  blessed  apostle  ;  whose  ex- 
position and  application  of  the  passage  you 
seem  to  have  forgotten,  at  least  not  to  have 
thoroughly  weighed?  Having  quoted  the 
passage,  argued  from  it,  and  displayed  the 
benefits  obtained  by  this  all-sufficient  pro- 
pitiation, he  adduces  a  text  from  Jeremiah 
relating  to  this  very  subject,  and  explaining 
its  nature  :  "  Whereof  the  Holy  Ghost  al- 
so is  witness."  Of  what?  Of  the  justifica- 
tion and  sanctification  of  sinners,  both  found- 
ed on,  both  effected  by,  the  sacrifice  of  the 
dying  Jesus  :  Transactions  which  both  the 
prophet  and  the  apostle  consider  under  the 
notion  of  a  covenant,  as  is  plain  from  the 
following  quotation  :  "  For  after  that  he  had 
said  before.  This  is  the  covenant  which  I 
will  make  with  them  in  those  days."  Hence 
it  appears  that  the  author  to  the  Hebrews 
saw  something  in  the  words  of  the  Psalmist 
from  which  the  doctrine  of  a  covenant  might 
be  inferred. 

Another  copy  of  this  grand  treaty  is  re- 
forded,  Isaiah  xlix.  from  the  first  to  the 
sixth  verse.  "  I  have  read  them,  but  can- 
not find  a  word  about  it  in  all  those  verses; 
they  contain  neither  more  nor  less  than  a 
prediction  of  the  salvation  of  the  Gentiles." 
They  contain  a  prediction,  and  somewhat 
more  ;  they  describe  the  way  whereby  this 
most  desirable  event  shall  be  brought  to 
pass.  This  the  Lord  himself  declares  shall 
be  by  way  of  covenant :  "  I  will  give  thee 
for  a  covenant  to  the  people."  This  verse 
we  may  look  upon  as  a  key  to  the  preced- 
ing. It  teaches  us  to  consider  them  as  de- 
scriptive of  the  august  covenant ;  of  its  es- 
tablishment, its  parties,  and  its  terms.  In- 
deed the  verses  themselves  lead  us  to  the 
same  view  :  For  what  is  a  covenant  ?  A 
contract  wherein  a  condition  is  prescribed, 
ri  promise  is  made,  and  both  are  ratified  by 
H  mutual  agreement.  The  condition  is  pre- 
ribed  in  those  words  :  "  Thou  art  my 
servant,  O  Israel,*  in  whom  I  will  be  glori- 


«  Israel  is  tlic  name  of  the  church,  often  given  to 
her  ill  this  jiropliecy.  Christ  and  his  church,  by  vir- 
luf  of  tlic  uiiidii  between  tliein,  have  the  same  names. 
As  slie  is  somcliiiu's  called  by  his  name,  "  The  Loiil 
our  ri(;hteousMcss,"  so  he  is  here  calle<l  by  her  name, 
Israel.    .See  Jer.  xxxiii,  10. 


SS6 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


fied."  The  promise  is  made  in  those  words : 
"  Thou  shalt  raise  up  the  tribes  of  Jacob, 
restore  the  preserved  of  Israel,  and  be  my 
salvation  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth."  The 
agreement  is  specified  or  implied  in  those 
words  •  "  I  have  spent  my  strength  for 
nought ;  yet  surely  my  judgment  is  with 
the  Loixl,  and  my  work  with  my  God." 

The  groat  Vitringa,  after  having  expound- 
ed the  whole  clause,  concludes  in  this  man- 
ner :  "  Antequam  ab  his  verbis,  sensu  foe- 
cundissimis,  summam  doctrina?  evangelicaa 
complexis,  discedam,  monere  vellim,  eadem 
clarissime  deformare  totum  mysterium  con- 
ventionis  pacis,  inter  Deum  patrem  et  Mes- 
siam  filiam  ejus,  in  humana  carne  apparitu- 
rum,  initse,  perinde  ac  in  locis  quae  ex  aliis 
excerpo;  Psalm  xl.  7;  Zech.  vi.  13.  Pa- 
ter  ut  Dominus,  filio  ut  Messia?,  offert  glo- 
riam  longe  amplissimam,  meditationis  et 
salvationis  Juda?orum  et  gentium,  qua?  glo- 
ria, omnium  quaj  mente  concipi  possunt, 
est  maxima,  sub  lege  sive  sub  conditioiie 
profundissimi  obsequii  servilis  ;  eaque  sti- 
pulatio  utrinque  ratihabetur."* 

If,  upon  a  stricter  review,  this  prophecy 
be  found  to  express  no  such  thing  as  a  co- 
venant, I  am  very  willing  to  give  up  the 
proof:  So  much  the  rather  as  it  makes  no 
part  of  Aspasio's  discourse  ;  is  only  just 
mentioned  in  a  note  ;  and  stands  not  in 
the  main  body,  but  only  as  a  corps  de  reserve. 

"  By  the  covenant  of  works,  man  was 
bound  to  obey  in  his  own  person."  Here 
you  take  Aspasio  up  veiy  short,  and  reply, 
"  So  he  is  under  the  covenant  of  grace, 
thougii  not  in  order  to  justification."  This 
i-s  the  very  thing  he  means  :  Nor  could  you 
easily  have  mistaken  his  meaning,  if  you 
had  only  done  him  so  small  a  piece  of  jus- 
tice as  to  read  the  whole  paragraph ;  of 
which,  since  you  seem  cither  willingly,  or 
through  inadvertence,  to  be  ignorant,  I  will 
beg  leave  to  transcribe  it : — "  Between  the 
covenant  of  works  and  the  covenant  of  grace, 
this,  I  apprehend,  is  the  difference  :  by  the 
former,  man  was  indispensably  bound  to 
obey  in  his  own  person  ;  by  the  latter,  the 
obedience  of  his  surety  is  accepted  instead 
of  his  own.  The  righteousness  required 
by  both  is  not  sincere,  but  complete  ;  not 
]troportioned  to  the  abilities  of  fallen  man, 
but  to  the  purity  of  the  law,  and  the  majesty 
of  the  lawgiver."  You  see  the  whole  argu- 
ment turns  upon  a  complete  righteousness, 
such  as  satisfies  the  law,  and  is  an  adequate 
ground  for  justification.  This,  I  imagine, 
fallen  man  is  not  ob'iged  by  the  covenant  of 
grace  to  perform  ;  if  so,  we  shall  be  at  a 
Joss  to  find  any  such  a  thing  as  grace  ;  if 
so,  we  can  have  no  hope  of  obtaining  salva- 
tion with  eternal  glory.  There  will  be  too 
much  reason  for  applying  to  all   mankind 


those  awful  words  of  the  proplict,  "  In  tho 
day  thou  mayest  make  thy  plant  to  grow, 
and  in  the  morning  thou  mayest  make  thy 
seed  to  flourish  ;  but  the  harvest  shall  be  a 
heap,  in  the  day  of  grief  and  desperate  sor- 
row." 

Blessed  be  God,  the  melancholy  strain  is 
superseded.  Though  the  terms  in  the  first 
covenant  were  a  perfect  obedience,  though 
the  terms  once  fixed  contimie  unalterable, 
yet  in  the  new  covenant  there  is  a  change 
and  substitution  as  to  the  performer,  without 
any  relaxation  as  to  the  performance.  In- 
stead of  personal  obedience,  we  are  justified 
through  the  obedience  of  our  Mediator, 
"  we  are  viade  the  righteousness  of  God  in 
him  :"  That  is,  we  are  furnished  with  a  plea 
as  prevalent  for  our  justification  and  ad- 
mission into  the  divine  favour,  as  if  we  had 
retained  our  innocence  untainted,  and  in 
every  respect  conformed  ourselves  to  the 
righteousness  which  the  law  of  God  re- 
quires.* Thus,  the  salvation  of  sinners 
neither  clashes  with  the  truth,  nor  interferes 
with  the  justice  of  the  supreme  Legislator  : 
On  the  contrary,  it  becomes  a  faithful  and 
just  procedure  of  the  most  high  God,  to 
justify  him  that  believeth  on  Jesus. 

"  The  obedience  of  our  Surety  is  ac- 
cepted instead  of  our  own."  "  This  is 
neither  a  safe  nor  a  scriptural  way  of  speak- 
ing." That  the  obedience  of  Christ  is  ac- 
cepted for  our  justification,  is  a  doctrine 
warranted  by  Scripture ;  it  may,  therefore, 
very  justly  be  reckoned  a  scriptural  way  of 
speaking.  And  if  his  obedience  is  accept- 
ed fur  this  purpose,  our  own,  were  it  ever 
so  considerable,  could  come  in  for  no  share 
of  the  work  ;  our  own,  though  ever  so  gor- 
geously arrayed,  must  stand  aside,  or  be 
cast  into  shades,  just  as  the  stars  hide  their 
diminished,  or  rather  extinguished  heads, 
when  the  sun  appears  in  his  meridian  splen- 
dour :  Bec-ause  the  obedience  of  Christ  is 
of  infinite  dignity  and  value  ;  and  infinite 
value  is  such  as  not  only  transcends  all 
other  services,  but  renders  them  mere  no- 
things in  the  comparison.  For  this  rea- 
son the  apostle  counted  all  endowments  but 
loss  for  Christ  j  and  the  prophet  represents 
all  nations  as  nothing  before  God. 

"  I  would  simply  say,  we  are  accepted 
through  the  Beloved."  If  you  rightly  un- 
derstood what  is  meant  when  the  apostle 
speaks  of  being  accepted  in  the  Beloved, 
you  would  have  no  fault  to  find  with  Aspa- 
sio's comment.  St.  Paul  means  we  are  ac- 
cepted, not  by  any  obedience  ])erformed  in 
our  own  persons,  but  solely  by  the  obedi- 
ence of  that  infinitely  excellent,  and  infinite- 
ly beloved  one,  Christ"  Jesus  ;  whose  nt;lite- 
ousness  being  imputed  to  us,  and  put  upon 


I  Cov.  V.21. 

of  tlii^  pass 


This  is  Dr.  Diddiidce'si'iteriJretai- 
!^c;  and  il  spcnks  a  noble,  a  joyful 


Vrn;i.-«o.  :;j  /f 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


527 


us,  causes  us  not  only  to  be  pardoned,  but 
to  be  highly  esteemed,  dearly  beloved,  and 
blessed  with  all  spiritual  blessings. 

Here  I  cannot  but  observe  that  you  have 
changed  the  apostle's  expression.  He  says, 
"  Accepted  in  the  beloved  ;"  you  say,  "  Ac- 
cepted tliruugh  the  beloved."  I  am  willing 
to  believe  this  was  an  oversight ;  you  had 
no  sinister  design  ;  but  still  I  think  you 
should  take  more  heed  to  your  pen,  and  not 
alter  the  inspired  word,  lest  you  blemish  the 
language,  or  injure  the  sense.  Perhaps  you 
will  ask,  what  dilferonce  is  there  between 
accepted  throin/h,  and  accepted  in,  the  Be- 
loved? I  will  illustrate  the  (liflfereiice  by  a 
similitude.  A  creditable  housekeeper  gives 
a  good  character  to  a  servant  that  leaves 
him,  by  virtue  of  which  he  is  accepted,  and 
admitted  into  some  other  \aliiahle  employ. 
This  character  is  his  introduction,  yet  this 
makes  no  addition  to  his  real  value.  Ac- 
ceptance t}irou(jh  the  Beloved,  may  import 
no  more  than  such  an  admission  through 
such  a  recommendation  ;  whereas,  accepted 
in  the  Beloved  implies  not  only  a  recom- 
mendatory passport  from  Christ,  but  a  real 
union  with  Christ ;  whereby  we  are  incor- 
porated into  his  sacred  body,  and  partake  as 
truly  of  his  righteousness  as  the  members 
partake  of  the  life  which  animates  the  head. 
By  this  our  persons  are  really  ennobled  ; 
this  imparts  the  highest  dignity  to  our  na- 
ture :  We  are  not  only  recommended  to, 
but  rendered  meet  for  the  favour,  the  com- 
placency, the  beatific  presence  of  God,  be- 
ing one  with  Jesus,  and  therefore  loved  even 
as  Jesus  himself  is  loved.* 

"  The  second  covenant  was  not  made  with 
Adam  or  any  of  his  posterity,  but  with 
Christ  in  those  words."  "For  any  autho- 
rity you  have  from  these  words,  you  might 
as  well  have  said  it  was  made  with  the  Ho- 
ly Ghost."  No:  Christ,  not  the  Holy 
Ghost,  was  the  seed  of  the  woman.  This 
is  an  answer  much  in  your  own  strain.  But 
let  us  consider  farther. 

You  allow,  I  presume,  that  the  first  co- 
venant was  made  with  Adam,  as  our  public 
federal  head  ;  that  all  his  posterity  were  in- 
cluded in  it,  being  to  stand  or  fall  together 
with  him  :  Herein,  says  the  apostle,  "  Adam 
was  a  figure  of  him  that  was  to  come."  If 
so,  the  second  covenant  must  be  made  with 
Christ,  as  our  public  federal  head  :  He  and 
all  his  seed  are  included  in  it ;  and  as  it  was 
impossible  for  him  to  miscarry,  they  must 
be  joint  partakers  of  the  benefits.  Accord- 
ingly, he  is  styled  the  Mediator  of  the  new 
covenant,  by  whose  most  acceptable  and  pre- 
vailing interposition  all  its  blessings  are  ob- 
tained :   He  is  styled  the  Surety  of  the  co- 


•  Johnxvii.  23.  "  They  in  me,"  says  our  Lord. 
Therefore,  on  this  arcount,  or  viewed  in  this  relation, 
"  Thou  hast  Iov«d  them,  as  t  on  hast  lovwl  iro  •' 


venaiit,  engaging  to  pay  the  whole  debt  for 
poor  insolvent  creatures — the  debt  of  penal 
suffering,  and  the  debt  of  perfect  obedience  : 
The  Testator  of  the  covenant,  whose  are 
its  riches,  and  whose  are  its  privileges  ;  who 
has  also  of  his  unboundedgoodnessberpieath- 
ed  them  as  so  many  inestimable  legacies  to 
indigent  men.  Methinks  those  are  such 
charming  truths,  such  divinely  comfortable 
doctrines,  that  you  should  consider  them 
thoroughly  before  yon  oppose  them,  lest  you 
do  a  greater  act  of  unkindness  to  your  read- 
ers, than  that  which  is  charged,  though  very 
injuriously,  upon  Job  :  "  Thou  hast  stripped 
the  naked  of  their  clothing,  and  sent  widows 
away  empty."  And  when  you  are  disposed 
to  consider  these  points  thoroughly,  ask 
yourself  this  question  :  Is  it  possible  to  con- 
ceive that  Christ  should  be  the  Mediator, 
the  Surety,  the  Testator  of  the  covenant,  if 
it  was  not  made  with  him,  and  the  execu- 
tion of  it  undertaken  by  him  ?  Or  is  it  pos- 
sible to  suppose  that  the  all-glorious  Son  of 
God  should  be  the  Mediator,  tbe  Surety, 
the  Testator  of  the  covenant,  yet  leave  others 
to  perform  the  ( onditioiis  ;  which  are  iti- 
comparably  the  most  important,  interesting, 
and  difficult  parts  of  the  transaction  ? 

"  These  words  were  not  spoken  to  Christ, 
but  of  him."  True,  of  liim  as  given  for  a 
covenant  of  the  people.  "  There  is  not  the 
least  intimation  of  any  such  covenant."  You 
will  not  deny  that  Christ  is  signified  by 
"  the  seed  of  the  woman."  It  is  said.  He 
shall ;  a  language  expressing  authority,  and 
requiring  conformity.  As  Christ  is  the  su- 
preme uncontrollable  God,  this  could  not 
be  required,  and  would  never  have  been 
said  without  his  actual  consent :  here  then 
is  implied  his  approbation  of  the  oilice.  It 
is  farther  said,  "  The  serpent  shall  bruise 
his  heel ;"  he  shall  become  incai'nate,  and 
after  a  life  of  much  sorrow,  and  many  tribu- 
lations, shall  be  put  to  a  most  tormenting 
death  :  here  is  the  condition  of  the  covenant. 
It  is  added,  "  He  shall  bruise  the  serpent's 
head  ;  shall  destroy  the  works  of  the  devil, 
and  repair  the  ruins  of  the  fall  ;  shall  deliver 
from  the  wrath  deserved,  and  recover  the 
inheritance  forfeited  :"  here  is  the  recom- 
pense or  reward  of  the  covenant- 
Should  you  ask.  Is  it  supposablc  that 
Adam  understood  the  words  in  this  compass 
of  meaning  ?  Perhaps  not.  But  if  we  do 
not  understand  them  in  a  more  exalted  and 
extensive  sense  than  our  first  father,  what 
advantage  do  we  reap  from  the  full  revela- 
tion of  the  gospel  ?  The  full  revelation  of 
the  gospel  pours  as  much  light  upon  this, 
and  other  of  the  ancient  oracles,  as  the  ex- 
periments of  our  modern  anatomists  have 
jioured  upon  the  structure  and  economy  of 
the  human  body.  This  grand  original  text, 
read  \\  ith  the  comment  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, speaks  all  that  Aspasio  has  suegested  - 


fi28 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


all  that  our  fallen  state  could  want,  or  our 
very  hearts  can  wish. 

You  have  mustered  up  several  objections, 
yet  there  is  room  for  more ;  I  will  therefore 
for  once  act  as  your  auxiliary,  and  turn 
against  Aspasio.  He  supposes  the  coven- 
ant to  be  made  with  Christ ;  whereas  the 
Scripture  represents  the  covenant  as  made 
with  various  men,  particularly  and  personal- 
ly, in  various  ages.  True,  it  is  recorded 
that  God  made  a  covenant  with  Abraham, 
with  Isaac,  with  Jacob,  and  with  David  the 
father  of  Solomon  :  But  were  they  in  a 
capacity  to  enter  into  covenant  with  their 
Maker  ?  to  stand  for  themselves,  or  be  sure- 
ty for  others  ?  I  think  not  -.  the  passages 
mean  no  more  than  the  Lord's  manifesting, 
in  an  especial  manner,  the  grand  covenant 
to  them  ;  ratifying  and  confirming  their  per- 
sonal interest  in  it ;  and  farther  assuring 
them  that  Christ,  the  great  covenant  head, 
should  be  of  themselves,  and  spring  from 
their  seed. 

This  accounts  for  that  remarkable  and 
singular  mode  of  expression,  which  often  oc- 
curs in  Scripture,  "  I  will  make  a  covenant 
with  tliem  ;"  or,  "This  is  my  covenant  with 
them."  Yet  there  follows  no  mention  of 
any  conditions,  only  a  promise  of  uncondi- 
tional blessings;  because  the  former  have 
alicady  been  performed,  and  nothing  re- 
uiiiins  but  to  confer  the  latter;  so  that  the 
meaning  of  the  divine  speaker  is — I  will  ad- 
mit them  to  an  interest  in  this  covenant, 
and  make  them  partakers  of  its  privileges. 

I  should  now  coiu-kuie,  but  Mr.  Wesley 
will  not  suffi-r  me  to  quit  the  subject.  He 
farther  insists,  "  The  words  manifestly 
contain,  if  not  a  covenant  made  with,  a  pro- 
mise made  to  Adam  and  all  his  posterity." 
If  not :  He  begins  to  hesitate  in  his  asser- 
tion, to  fluctuate  in  his  opinion,  and,  I 
could  hope,  to  see  his  mistake.  "  The  words 
contain  a  promise."  And  have  you  never 
reriil,  that  the  covenant  of  God,  or  the  va- 
rious renewals  and  ratifications  of  the  cove- 
nantof  grace,  are  styled  covenants  of  promise? 
which  consist  of  pure  promises,  and  dis- 
jiense  free  gifts. 

Observe  the  tenor  of  the  new  covenant, 
as  it  stands  engrossed  by  the  pen  of  inspira- 
tion :  *'  This  is  the  covenant  which  I  will 
make  with  the  house  of  Israel  after  those 
days,  saith  the  Lord  :  I  will  put  my  laws 
into  their  mind,  and  on  their  hearts  will  I 
write  them  ;  and  I  will  be  to  them  a  God, 
and  they  shall  be  to  me  a  people.  And 
tiicy  shall  not  teach  every  man  his  neigh- 
bour, and  every  man  his  brother,  saying, 
Know  the  Lord;  for  all  shall  know  me, 
from  the  least  of  them  even  unto  the  great- 
est of  them.  For  1  will  be  merciful  unto 
tiieir  utuighteousness,  and  their  sins  and 
their  iniquities  will  I  remember  no  more." 
Where  are  your  conditions  in  this  draught  ? 


Where  are  any  terms  required  of  impotent 
man  ?  Is  it  not  all  promise  from  the  be- 
ginning to  the  end  ?  That  repentance,  anil 
that  faith,  for  whose  conditionality  you  plead, 
are  they  not  both  comprehended  in  this 
heavenly  deed?  and  comprehended  under  the 
form  of  blessings  vouchsafed,  not  of  tasks 
enjoined?  Does  the  contract  run  in  this 
manner,  I  require  and  command?  or  in  this 
strain,  I  grant  and  bestow?  The  Lord  says, 
"  I  will  put  my  laws,  I  will  write  them." 
The  work  shall  not  be  laid  on  my  creatures, 
but  done  by  myself.  "  They  shall  be  my 
people,  and  I  will  remember  their  sins  no 
more-"  What !  Provided  they  perform 
such  and  such  duties  ?  I  read  no  such 
clause  :  I  see  no  such  proviso.  All  is  ab- 
solutely free  ;  dependent  on  no  performances 
of  ours  ;  but  flowing  from  sovereign,  su- 
preme, self-influenced  goodness. 

Just  such  is  that  delightful  declaration, 
"  I  will  make  an  everlasting  covenant  with 
them,  that  1  will  not  turn  away  from  them 
to  do  them  good  ;  but  I  will  put  my  fear  in 
their  heart,  that  they  shall  not  depart  from 
me."  What  you  call  conditions,  must  be 
comprised  in  my  fear.  This  is  represented 
as  a  singular  benefit  which  God  imparts, 
as  a  gracious  temper  which  God  implants  ; 
and  both  as  dependent,  not  on  the  fidelity 
of  man,  but  on  the  power  and  veracity  of 
God.  Another  of  your  conditions,  1  pre- 
sume, is  perseverance  unto  the  end.  This, 
in  the  covenant  of  grace,  is  not  enjoined, 
but  secured ;  secured,  not  by  a  strict  pro- 
hibition of  apostasy,  but  by  the  onuiipotcnt 
interposition  of  Jehovah  :  "  I  will  put  my 
fear  (so  put  my  fear)  into  their  hearts,  that 
they  shall  not  depart  from  me  ;"  shall  never 
draw  back  into  perdition.  Thus  the  coven- 
ant becomes  not  transient,  but  everlasting  ; 
thus  the  promise  is  not  precarious,  but  sure 
to  all  the  seed.  There  seems  to  be  as 
great  a  difference  between  this  evaTigelical, 
and  your  legal  method  of  stating  the  coven- 
ant; between  suspending  the  benefits  on 
human  endeavours,  and  grounding  them  on 
divine  agency;  as  between  hanging  the  an- 
chor on  the  top  of  the  mast,  and  fixing  it  at 
the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

Let  me  add  one  more  text,  which  now 
occurs  to  my  thoughts:  "  Ye  are  the  chil- 
dren of  the  prophets,  and  of  the  covenant 
which  God  made  with  our  fathers,  saying 
unto  Abraham,  And  in  thy  seed  shall  all 
the  kindreds  of  the  earth  be  blessed,"  Acts 
iii.  25.  Here  the  covenant  is  first  men- 
tioned in  general ;  then  particularly  specifi- 
ed. "  In  thy  seed  shall  all  the  kindreds  of 
the  earth" — be  laid  under  conditions  ?  be 
obliged  to  execute  terms  ?  No  ;  but  "  shall 
be  blessed,"  blessed  with  all  blessings,  tem- 
poial,  spiritual,  eternal.  In  thy  seed  ;  that 
is,  in  Christ  ;  without  any  regard  to  qualiti- 
cations  or  deeds  of  their  own  ;  entirely  by 


REV.   MR.    WESLEY. 


529 


virtue  of  an  interest  m  his  consummately 
t-xcellent  actions,  and  consummately  j^re- 
cious  sufterings.  Tiieu  the  apostle  sin- 
gles out  one  s])ccial  and  distinguished  bless- 
ing of  the  covenant — a  conversion  from 
"  darkness  to  light,  and  from  the  power  of 
Satan  to  the  service  of  God  ;"  or,  as  it  is 
expressed  in  (he  following  verse,  "  a  turn- 
ing fiom  all  iniquity."  This  is  still  exhi- 
bited to  our  contemplation  as  the  fruit  of 
the  covenant  of  grace  ;  as  the  thing  for 
w  liichit  makes  provision,  notintroductory,to, 
but  consequent  u\)ou,  our  participation  of  it. 
If,  therefore,  in  s|)eaking  of  holiness  and 
obedience,  we  rejjrcsent  them  as  the  pro- 
mises, rather  than  the  demands  of  the  cov- 
enant, we  evidently  follow  the  apostle's  ex- 
ample. \\'ere  we  to  take  the  contrary 
course,  we  should  act  as  prudently  as  the 
sportsman,  who,  entering  his  horse  for  a 
plate,  chooses  to  have  him  walk  backwards, 
rather  than  run  forwards.  Would  this  in- 
crease his  speed  ?  Would  this  help  him 
to  outstrip  his  rivals,  or  enable  him  to  win 
the  prize  ?  Shall  we,  i!i  order  to  avoid  the 
charge  of  Antinomianism,  rush  into  this 
absurdity  ?  I  am  persuaded  you  could  not 
wish  to  see  so  egregious  a  piece  of  folly 
even  in  your  enemy,  much  less  in  yours, 
&c. 


LETTER  IX. 

Reverend  Shi, — I  wish  you  would  consi- 
der with  some  attention  that  emjjhatical 
memento  ^f  the  ajiostle,  "  Since  ye  knew 
the  grace  of  God  in  truth."  Here  he  in- 
timates, that  we  may  have  a  knowledge  of 
grace  which  is  not  genuine;  not  free  from 
corrupt  mixture  ;  not  true.  It  may  he  so 
discoloured  with  erroi',  or  blended  with  so 
nuich  of  the  law,  as  no  longer  to  appear  like 
itself.  The  language  of  such  persons  is 
somewhat  like  the  language  of  the  Israelites 
after  their  return  from  captivity,  who  spoke 
neither  the  Hebrew  nor  the  Heathenish 
dialect ;  but  expressed  themselves  half  in 
the  speecii  of  Ashdod,  and  half  iu  the  speech 
of  Sion. 

"  It  is  true,"  says  Aspasio,  "  I  cannot 
perform  the  conditions."  "  It  is  not  true," 
says  Mr.  Wesley.  This  is  pretty  blunt, 
and  pretty  liold  too  ;  for  it  is  in  effect  allirm- 
ing,  that  a  man  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins 
is  able  to  perform  conditions.  Mr.  Wesley 
is  not  aware,  that  "  Christ  strengthening 
us,"  is  one  of  the  benefits  of  the  covenant, 
comprehended  in  these  words,  "  1  will  put 
my  laws  into  their  minds." 

"  The  conditions  of  the  new  covenant 
are,  Repent  and  believe."  It  has  been  al- 
ready shewn,  that  they  are  re|ireseiited  by 
the  Holy  (^host,  not  as  contlitions,  but  as 
blessings ;  not  as  conditions  reciuired,  but  as 


blessings  bestowed  ;  iK)t  as  condition.-!  on 
which  depends  the  accomplishment  of  the 
covenant,  but  as  hapjjy  fruits,  or  precious 
effects  of  the  covenant,  made,  and  making 
good  to  sinners,  who  are  wholly  without 
strength. 

"  It  is  equally  true,"  says  Aspasio,  "  this 
is  not  required  at  my  hands."  "  It  is  equal- 
ly true,"  says  Mr.  Wesley,  "  that  is,  abso- 
lutely false."  This  is,  doubtless,  a  home 
thrust.  It  behoves  us  to  provide  some  ar- 
mour of  proof  for  our  defence  ;  and  this  the 
Scripture  furnishes  abundantly.  It  fiu-- 
nishes  us  with  more  than  robiir  ct  cps  Iji'plex. 
The  Scripture  sets  forth  justification,  salva- 
tion, and  all  blessedness,  as  things  perfect- 
ly free  ;  detached  from  all  works,  dependent 
on  no  conditions,  ])ut  the  gifts  of  sovereign 
goodness  and  infinitely  rich  grace. 

Though  you,  Sir,  treat  Aspasio  in  so  un- 
ceremonious a  manner,  we  will  be  more 
complaisant ;  you  shall  leceive  such  enter- 
tainment from  us,  as  the  King  of  Babylon's 
ambassadors  received  fiom  Hezekiah.  We 
will,  on  this  occasion,  shew  you  "  the  house 
of  our  precious  things,  the  silver  and  the 
gold,  the  spices  and  the  precious  ointment, 
and  if  not  all,  yet  some  of  the  house  of  our 
armour."  2  Kings  xx.  13. 

We  are  saved,  that  is,  we  have  all  the 
benefits  of  the  new  covenant  by  yrace . 
"  By  grace  ye  are  saved.  It  is  of  grace, 
and  no  more  of  works.  Who  hath  saved 
us,  not  according  to  our  works,  but  accoi'd- 
ing  to  his  purpose  and  grace."  Eph.  ii.  5. 
Rom.  X.  6.   2  Tim.  i.  9. 

Freely:  "Being  justified  freely.  The 
things  that  are  freely  given  to  us  of  God. 
M^hosoever  will,  let  him  take  the  water  of 
life  freely."  Rom.  iii.  34.  I  Cor.  ii.  !<?. 
Rev.  xxii.  19. 

Ihf  ivay  of  gift :  "  If  thou  knowest  the 
gift  of  God.  The  gift  of  God  is  eternal 
life.  The  free  gift  cauie  ujion  all  men,  to 
justification  of  life."  John  iv.  10.  Rom. 
vi.  23;  v.  18. 

Wil/iout  the  law  :  "  The  righteousness  of 
God  without  the  law.  That  we  might  be 
justified,  not  by  the  uorks  of  the  law.  If 
the  inhei'itance  were  of  the  law."  Rom. 
iii.  21.  Gal.  ii.  16  ;  iii.  18. 

Not  bij  2vo)hs  :  "  Not  of  works,  l)ut  of 
him  that  calleth  us.  Not  by  works  of 
righteousness  which  we  have  done,  but  ac- 
cording to  his  mercy  he  saved  us.  Not  hav- 
ing mine  own  righr^'onsness,  which  is  of  the 
law."     Rom.  ix.   11.  Tit.  iii.  ,5.  Phil.  iii.  9. 

By  righli'ottniirss,  iu)t  performed,  but  im- 
puted :  •'  Eaith  (in  Christ,  as  our  all)  is  im- 
puted for  righteousness.  God  imi)uteth 
lighteousness  without  works.  To  wliom  it 
(that  is.  the  merit  of  a  dying  and  rising  Sa- 
viour) shall  be  imputed."   Horn.  iv.  5,  0,2S, 

Not  by  guiltless  behaviour,  but  by  rs- 
2  M 


530 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


mission  of  sins  :  "Blessed  are  they  whose 
iniquities  are  forgiven,  and  whose  sins  are 
covered.  God  was  in  Christ,  reconciling 
the  world  unto  himself,  not  imputing  their 
trespasses  unto  them.  To  give  knowledge 
of  salvation  by  the  remission  of  their  sins." 
Psalm  xxxii.  1.   2  Cor.  v.  19.    Luke  i.  77. 

Not  each  by  himself,  but  all  by  one  : 
"  They  shall  reign  in  life,  by  one  Christ 
Jesus.  By  the  obedience  of  one,  shall 
many  be  made  righteous.  By  one  offering, 
he  hath  perfected  for  ever  those  that  are 
sanctified."  Rom.  v.  17,  18,  19.  Heb. 
X.  14. 

By  faith  alone  •  "  Being  justified  by 
faith.  A  man  is  justified  by  faith,  without 
tiie  deeds  of  the  law.  Through  him,  all 
that  believe  are  justified  from  all  things." 
Rom.  V.  1  ;  iii.  28.  Acts  xiii.  39. 

Not  on  account  of  faith,  as  a  condition 
performed,  but  on  account  of  Christ,  the 
pearl  of  inestimable  price  ;  which  faith  re- 
ceives, applies,  and  uses  :  "  Who  has  by 
himself  purged  away  our  sins,  by  himself 
finished  our  transgressions,  made  reconcili- 
ation for  our  iniquities,  and  brought  in  an 
everlasting  righteousness."  Heb.  i.  3. 
Dan.  ix.  24. 

This  is  the  doctrine  of  Scripture.  Be- 
cause it  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  you 
see  with  what  care  it  is  stated,  and  with 
what  copiousness  displayed ;  with  what 
zeal  it  is  urged,  and  with  what  vigilance 
guarded.  How  solicitously  the  sacred  wri- 
ters use  every  form  of  speech  that  may  ex- 
clude all  human  works,  may  set  aside  all 
conditions  and  pre-requisites,  [in  order  to 
supersede  all  gloiying,  and  ascribe  the  whole 
of  our  justification  to  the  free  grace  of  God, 
and  the  sole  merits  of  Christ. 

After  all  these  testimonies  of  Scripture, 
shall  we  still  maintain,  that  the  covenant  of 
grace  consists  of  conditions,  depends  upon 
conditions  ;  is  such  as  we  cannot  expect  to 
have  made  good  till  certain  conditions  are, 
by  us,  duly  and  truly  fulfilled  ?  Dagon 
may  as  well  stand  in  the  presence  of  the 
ark,  as  such  a  notion  in  the  face  of  these 
CA'angelical  texts. 

All,  all  is  free  to  us  sinners,  though  it 
was  not  free  to  Christ  our  Saviour :  He 
paid  the  price  ;  he  performed  the  conditions. 
If  you  would  know  what  price  was  paid, 
what  conditions  were  performed,  and  on 
what  terms  we  inherit  the  blessings,  you. 
Sir,  may  receive  information  from  Mr;  John 
Wesley,  who  says  in  his  comment,  "  All  the 
blessings  of  the  new  covenant  are  secured 
to  us  by  the  one  ofering  of  Christ."  Ac- 
cording to  this  commentator,  they  are  not 
only  procured  fy:  us,  but  secured  to  us. 
How  could  either  of  these  be  tine — much 
more,  how  could  the  latter  be  fact — if  the 
blessings  were  suspended  on  any  perform- 
ance or   any  acquisition  of  ours  ?      If  I  am  ^ 


not  to  enjoy  them  until  I  discharge  this  or 
thaf  duty,  they  are  not  procured  for  me  ; 
if  I  am  not  to  enjoy  them  unless  I  become 
possessed  of  this  or  that  quality,  they  are 
not  secured  to  me  ; — not  secured  to  me  as 
the  estate  is  to  an  heir,  even  whilst  he  is  a 
minor,  but  only  as  a  prize  is  to  a  racer,  in 
case,  by  exerting  his  speed  and  his  strength, 
he  arrives  first  at  the  goal ;  which  was  never 
yet  called  security,  but  allowed  to  be  mere 
uncertainty. 

As  to  tiiis  point,  others  may  receive  in- 
formation from  the  prophet  Zecbariah : 
"  By  the  blood  of  thy  covenant  I  have  sent 
forth  thy  prisoners  out  of  the  pit,  wherein 
was  no  water,"  Zech.  ix.  11.  Tht/  prison- 
ers :  Those  WTetched  creatures  who  were 
in  a  state  of  guilt,  and  under  the  sentence 
of  death  ;  subject  to  the  tyranny  of  the  de- 
vil, and  liable  to  the  damnation  of  hell.  In 
this  dismal  state  they  were  as  in  a.  pit  unfa- 
thomably  deep  ;  from  which  there  seemed 
no  possibility  of  escape,  nor  any  method  of 
deliverance :  A  pit  in  which  there  is 
no  water;  nothing  but  absolute  misery, 
without  a  gleam  of  hope,  or  a  drop  of  com- 
fort. I  have  sent  them  forth  into  a  place  of 
liberty,  where  they  obtain  pardon,  and  en- 
joy peace  ;  are  satisfied  with  the  plenteous- 
ness  of  my  house,  and  drink  of  my  plea- 
sures as  out  of  a  river.  All  this  by  the 
blood  of  thy  covenant.  Blood  was  the  right- 
eous term,  blood  was  the  dreadful  require- 
ment; even  that  infinitely  precious  blood  of 
Christ,  on  which  the  covenant  of  our  free- 
dom was  established,  and  by  which  its  rich 
blessings  are  procured.  Which  is  called 
"  thy  covenant,*  O  daughter  of  Sion,"  thou 
church  of  the  first-born  ;  because  it  was 
made  in  thy  name,  made  with  thy  divine 
Surety,  and  for  thy  unspeakable  good. 

This  is  not  only  false,  but  "  most  danger- 
ously false.  If  we  allow  this,  Antinomiaii- 
ism  comes  in  with  a  full  tide-"  Pray,  Sir, 
what  do  you  mean  by  Antinomianism  ?  Such 
a  contrariety  to  the  law  as  debases  its  digni- 
ty, deprives  it  of  its  proper  honour  and  pro- 
per end  ?f 

Surely  then,  not  Aspasio's,  but  Mr. 
Wesley's  tenets,  are  chargeable  with  this 
kind  of  heterodoxy  ;  since  they  would  cause 
the  law  to  be  put  off  with  a  mite,  when 
millions  of  talents  are  its  due  ;  oblige  it  to 
be  content  with  errant  deficiency,  when  the 
most  sinless  obedience,  and  the  most  exalted 
perfection,  are  what  it  demands. 

Do  you  mean  by  Antinomianism,  such  a 


•  Thi/  covenant.  The  words  are  not  addressed  to 
Christ,  but  to  his  church  ;  as  the  Hebrew  word,  bei>g 
in  the  ferainine  gender,  intimates. 

+  The  end  of  the  commanding  law  is  righteousness. 
Rom.  X.  4.  The  end  of  the  violated  law  is  punish- 
ment. Gal.  iii.  10.  Both  these  ends  are  answered  by 
the  interposition  of  an  obedient  and  crucified  Re- 
deemer, but  on  no  other  scheme,  and  in  no  other 
manner  whatever. 


REV.  MK.  WESLEY. 


531 


contmiiet}'  to  the  law  as  disregarris  its  du- 
ties, and  violates  its  pi'ceepts  ?  Then  the 
ripostie  Paul  shall  reply,  "  The  grace  of 
tJod,  winch  Ijriiigeth  salvation,  hath  appear- 
ed unto  all  men  ;  teaching  us,  that  denying 
ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts,  we  should  live 
soberly,  righteously,  and  godly."  The  grace 
of  Go({,  W]s  infinitely  free  favour,  of  which 
we  have  a  specimen  in  the  preceding  text, 
which  scorns  to  be  shackled  with  conditions, 
(11-  meanly  dependent  on  human  endeavours. 
This  grace,  requiring  nothing  of  the  crea- 
ture, hut  brbujimi  salvation,  spiritual  and 
<ternal  salvation,  finished  by  the  incarnate 
<  reator,  and  free  for  the  chiefest  of  sinners  : 
This  gra,^e,  being  revealed  in  the  gospel, 
being  discerned  by  faith,  and  thus  appear- 
ing ill  lustre,  and  with  power,  to  all  men  ; 
to  men  of  every  rank,  every  age,  every  cha- 
racter ;  making  no  difference  between  the 
servant  and  the  master,  between  the  ruddy 
strippliiig  and  the  hoary  sire,  between  the 
vile  prostitute  and  the  chaste  vestal,  but  op- 
ening its  inexhaustible  treasures  to  be  re- 
ceived by  one  as  well  as  >the  other  :  This 
grace  does  what  ?  "  Cause  Antinomianism," 
or  practical  ungodliness,  "  to  come  in  with 
a  full  tide  ?"  Quite  the  reverse  :  It  repress- 
es it  like  an  immoveable  barrier  :  It  teaches 
ii<{  to  deny,  to  renounce  ungodliness,  all  un- 
godliness ;  not  oidy  external  gross  abomina- 
tions, but  icorldhj  lusts,  also  every  vicious 
inclination,  and  every  iiregular  desire.  Far- 
tiier,  it  teaches  us  to  live  soberli/,  with  re- 
gard to  ourselves,  righteousli/  towards  our 
iie:ghi)ours,  and  godly  to  our  great  Creator. 

The  original  word  is  particularly  beautiful 
and  signiiicant ;  it  is  not  raaait — prescribeth, 
by  way  of  rule,  nor  iTiTurffti — enjoineth,  by 
\^  ;iy  of  authority  ;  but  ■jra.ii'.utura. — teacheth, 
1)7  way  of  instruction,  pointelh  out  the  ef- 
f(clual  method  of  obeying  the  precepts,  and 
conforming  to  the  rule.  A  tj'rant  may  com- 
nii'.nd  his  slave  to  write,  or  make  a  profi- 
ciency in  writing  ;  a  kind  tutor  forms  him 
to  it,  shows  him  how  to  do  it,  and  renders 
what  otherwise  would  be  an  irksome,  per- 
haps an  impi-acticable  task,  both  easy  and 
]ili'asant :  So  this  grace,  clearly  manifested 
in  the  uriderstanding,  and  cordially  appre- 
lirrided  by  the  will,  renders  every  duty  of 
holniess  both  practicable  and  pleasant ;  it 
gives  us  a  heart,  and  a  hand,  and  ability  to 
(  xcrcise  ourselves  luito  universal  godliness. 

Christ  has  performed  all  that  was  condi- 
lioiiary  for  me,  says  Aspasio.  "  Has  he 
icjunted  and  believed  for  you?"  says  Mr. 
W  (sley  ;  a  questicfti  already  answered  in 
(lie  Dialogues.  "  No,"  replies  Mr.  Wesley, 
"  not  answered,  but  evaded.  '  He  perform- 
ed all  that  was  conditionary  in  the  covenant 
of  works,'  is  nothing  to  the  purpose  ;  for  we 
are  not  talking  of  that,  but  of  the  covenant 
of  gr;ice."  (tive  me  leave  to  tell  you,  Sir, 
lliai  you  are  greatly  mistaken  here  ;  we  are 


talking,  at  least  we  ought  to  be  talking,  of 
the  covenant  of  works,  when  we  talk  of  the 
covenant  \\hich  Christ  came  under.  It  was 
a  covenant  of  works  to  him,  which  by  his 
execution  of  it,  became  a  covenant  of  grace 
for  us  :  He  became  answerable  for  our  debt ; 
the  debt  was  exacted  without  the  least 
abatement.  In  this  respect  "  God  spared 
not  his  own  Son."  And  is  not  this  the  te- 
nor, are  not  such  the  effects,  of  a  covenant 
of  works  ? 

Christ  is  called  the  "  Surety  of  a  better 
covenant  ;"  that  is,  a  surety  provided  and 
admitted  by  a  better  covenant.  In  this  pe- 
culiarity, infinitely  momentous  and  comfort- 
able, the  new  covenant  is  better,  because  it 
brings  in  u  substitute  to  discharge  what  was 
contracted  under  the  old,  which  neither  pro- 
vided, nor  allowed,  nor  knew  any  such  thing. 
It  is  written,  "  Christ  was  made  under  the 
law,"  therefore,  not  under  a  covenant  of 
grace.  If  you  can  show  me,  in  the  construc- 
tion of  the  law,  any  hint  of  faith  in  the  me- 
rits of  another,  or  any  mention  of  repentance 
unto  life,  I  will  retract  my  opinion,  that 
Christ  performed  whatever  was  conditiona- 
ry ;  I  will  do  honour  to  those  genteel  ex- 
pressions, and  submit  to  those  cogent  argu- 
ments, "  It  is  not  true — it  is  nothing  to  the 
purpose — it  is  absolutely  false." 

"  If  Christ's  perfect  obedience  be  ours, 
we  have  no  more  need  of  pardon  than  Christ 
himself.  The  consequence  is  good ;  you 
have  started  an  objection  which  you  cannot 
answer."  It  is  answered  in  the  Dialogues, 
whether  in  a  satisfactory  or  insuflicient  man- 
ner, the  reader  must  determine.  But  sup- 
pose we  admit  the  consequence,  it  im])lies 
no  more  than  the  apostle  affirms,  "  By  one 
offering  he  hath  perfected  for  evtr  them  that 
are  sanctified."  Let  me  transcribe  your 
own*  explication  of  this  passage  :  "  He 
hath  done"  (observe,  you  yourself  speak  of 
Christ's  doing  ;  in  this  place  only  of  Christ's 
doing ;  yet  I  would  not  be  so  injurious 
to  your  good  sense,  as  to  imagine  that 
you  exclude  bis  suffering)  "all  that  was 
needful,  in  order  to  their  fidl  reconciliation 
with  (iod."  This  exposition  I  approve,  as 
far  as  it  goes  ;  only  you  have  omitted  one 
very  weighty  circumstance,  comprehended  in 
the  word  ever  :  By  this  doing  and  suffering, 
believers  are  fully  rind  perfectly  reconciled; 
not  for  a  day  only,  or  for  any  ])articular  time, 
but  tor  ever.  Tiie  pardon  is  irrevocable  ; 
the  blessing  inalienable.  Not  like  the  moon, 
which  now  waxes,  and  anon  wanes  ;  but 
like  the  sun,  which  is  always  the  same,  ever 
shines  with  the  same  jjlenitude  of  rays,  and 
needs  only  toappe.n-,  in  order  to  a])pear  un- 
changeably bright. 

This  reminds  me  of  a  more  direct  answer 


r'ApliiiLntoiy    NoU's  in  /•> 


532 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


to  your  difficulty.  Tlie  rei)e!ited  pardon 
which  believers  implore,  is  only  a  witness- 
bearing  to  the  truth,  or  a  repeated  manifes- 
tation of  it  to  our  consciences.  Will  you 
find  fault  \vith  this  doctrine  ?  JMight  you 
tiot,  for  the  very  same  reason,  say,  if  the 
atonement  of  Christ's  death  was  absolutely 
perfect,  there  could  be  no  need  of  his  inter- 
cession at  God's  right  hand  ?  Yes,  for  the 
actual  application  of  the  great  atonement, 
and  the  continual  communication  of  its  hap- 
py fruits,  their  intercession  is  necessary.  So, 
though  our  justification  is  complete,  though 
our  sins  have  all  been  laid  upon  our  Lord, 
and  are  not  to  be  done  away  by  some  duties 
of  our  own,  but  already  done  away  by  the 
sacrifice  of  himself;  yet  the  application  of 
this  blessing,  the  revelation  of  it  to  our 
hearts,  is  daily,  hourly,  incessantly  needful : 
Therefore  he  saith,  speaking  of  his  vineyard 
the  church,  "  I  \vill  water  it  every  moment." 
Whereby?  In  what  manner  ?  What  spiritu- 
al blessings  correspond  with  watering  the 
thirsty  soil  ?  The  discovery  of  complete 
pardon,  of  complete  acceptance,  of  complete 
salvation  in  Christ.  This  will  make  the 
soul  like  a  watered  garden ;  this  will  cause 
joy  and  holiness  to  blossom  as  a  rose. 

Both  the  branches  of  the  law,  the  precep- 
tive and  the  penal,  in  the  case  of  guilt  con- 
tracted, must  be  satisfied.  "Not  so."  If 
not,  one  of  them  must  pass  unsatisfied,  and 
unfulfilled ;  whereas  our  Lord  declares,  that 
"  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  sooner 
than  one  jot  or  one  tittle  of  the  law  shall 
fail"  of  its  accomplishment.  Will  you  un- 
dertake to  prove,  either  that  the  preceptive, 
or  else  that  the  penal  part  of  the  law,  does 
not  constitute  so  much  as  one  jot  or  one  tit- 
tle of  its  contents  ?  Then,  and  then  only, 
your  assertion  may  consist  with  our  Lord's 
declaration.  This  will  be  an  undertaking  as 
adventurous  as  your  next  is  disingenuous. 

"  Not  SO;  Christ  by  his  death  alone  (so 
our  church  teaches)  fully  satisfied  for  the 
sins  of  the  whole  world."  By  his  death 
alone,  that  is,  in  contradistinction  to  all  hu- 
man works  as  efficient  or  adjutant  causes. 
FuUij  satisfied,  that  is,  without  having,  and 
without  needing  the  concurrence  of  any  hu- 
man satisfaction.  It  is  spoken  in  opposition 
to  our  endeavours,  not  to  his  ovm  most  glo- 
rious obedience.  But  do  you  really  want  to 
be  informed,  that  our  chiuch  means  no  such 
thing  as  you  would  insinuate?  Have  you 
never  heard  her  profess,  and  require  to  be- 
lieve, what  Aspasio  maintains  ?  If  not,  be 
pleased  to  read  the  quotations  from  her  Ho- 
milies, which  he  has  produced,  (pp.  328, 
829.)*      Read    these,  and    I    cannot    but 


•  As  this  pamphlet  may  possibly  fall  into  the  hands 
of  some  persons  who  have  not  the  book  entitled  The- 
ron  anil  Aspasio;  I  will,  fjr  their  sakes,  transcribe 
one  of  the  testimonies  to  which  we  are  referred. 

lu  tlie  Momlly  concerning  the  salvation  of  mankind, 


think  you  have  modesty  enough  to  blush  at 
an  attempt  to  palm  upon  the  public  such  an 
apparent  misrepresentation  of  our  venerable 
mother. 

"  The  same  great  truth  is  manifestly 
taught  in  the  31st  Article."  What?  That 
Christ,  by  his  death  alone,  or  by  shedding 
his  blood  alone,  without  fulfilling  the  law 
perfectly,  satisfied  for  the  sins  of  the  world  ! 
Then  the  Articles  and  the  Homilies  most 
flatly  contradict  one  another.  Upon  this 
you  ask,  "  Is  it  therefore  fair,  is  it  honest, 
for  any  one  to  plead  the  Articles  of  our 
church  in  defence  of  absolute  predestina- 
tion ?"  Indeed,  Sir,  I  know  not  what  you 
mean  by  this  interrogatory,  or  at  what  you 
aim.  Does  Aspasio  plead  the  Articles  for 
any  such  purpose  ?  Not  that  he  should  be 
afraid,  in  case  there  was  an  evident  occa- 
sion to  advance  such  a  plea,  and  perhaps 
might  put  Mr.  Wesley  to  greater  difficulty 
than  he  is  aware  of,  in  order  to  elude  the 
force  of  it.  But  he  does  not  in  this  place 
come  within  view  of  the  point,  nor  so  much 
as  remotely  hint  at  it :  No,  nor  in  any  part 
of  the  two  volumes  does  he  once  touch  upon 
absolute  predestination,  much  less  does  he 
plead  the  Articles  of  our  church  in  its  de- 
fence  :  So  that  your  inferential  word  there- 
fore, is  a  conclusion  without  premises. 

Absolute  predestinatio7i  is  a  phrase  not  to 
be  found  in  all  the  Dialogues,  or  in  any  of 
the  Letters  ;  but  it  is  a  phrase  which  Mr. 
Wesley  thinks  to  be  alarming  and  disgust- 
ing ;  on  which  Mr.  Wesley  has  learned  to 
say  many  horrible  and  shocking  things ; 
therefore,  be  it  right  or  wrong,  be  it  true  or 
false,  Aspasio  shall  be  charged  with  the  ob- 
noxious expression.  When  he  mentions 
predestination,  it  is  in  the  very  words  of 
Scripture ;  without  dwelling  upon  the  sub- 
ject ;  without  resting  his  cause  upon  it  ; 
without  attempting  either  to  explain  or  to 
establish  it.  This  he  leaves,  and  ever  will 
leave,  to  clearer  heads  and  abler  pens.  As 
to  your  absolute,  this  is  not  what  Aspasio 
speaks,  but  what  Mr.  Wesley  would  make 
him  speak  ;  a  word,  which  in  this  connexion 
he  never  used,  nor  so  much  as  dreamt  of 
using ;  for  which  reason,  I  call  it  not  his 
but  yours.  May  I  not  then  retort  your  own 
question ;  and  ask.  Is  it  fair,  is  it  honest,  to 


we  read  the  following  words:  "  The  apostle toucheth 
three  things,  which  must  go  together  in  justification. 
On  God's  part,  his  great  mercy  and  grace :  On  Clirist's 
part,  the  satisfaction  of  God's  justice,  or  the  price  (  f 
our  redemption,  by  the  offering  of  his  body  and  shed- 
ding of  his  precious  blood,  with  fulfilling  of  the  law 
perfectly:  On  our  part,  true  and  lively  faith  in  the 
merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  yet  is  not  ours,  but  by 
God's  working  in  us."  You  see,  accordinfj  to  the 
judgment  of  our  reformers,  not  only  the  ollering  of 
Christ's  body,  and  the  shedding  of  Christ's  blood,  but 
also  his  perfect  fulfilling  of  the  law,  are  the  adequate 
price  of  our  redemption.  Vet  Mr.  Wesley  is  pleased 
to  exclude  the  latter ;  and  ventures  to  affiim  that  he 
has  the  authority  of  our  church  for  such  an  opinion, 
and  for  such  a  practice. 


REV.   MR  .   WESLEY 


533 


jnit  into  your  friend's  mouth  words  nhich 
lie  never  used,  and  then  exclaim  against 
them  ? 

What  follows  in  this  paragraph  is  pro- 
digious indeed.  "  Seeing  the  17th  Article 
barely  defines  the  term  ;"  that  is,  the  church 
does  not  believe  the  doctrine,  nor  require 
any  ^neh  belief  from  her  members !  Why 
then  does  she  select  it  for  one  of  the  Ar- 
ticles ?  Why  pronounce  it  agreeable  to 
God's  word?  Why  forbid  disputation  against 
it  ?  Pity  but  we  had  been  acquainted  with 
this  fine  distinction  when  we  were  students 
at  Oxford  -.  We  then  declared  our  appro- 
bation of  the  academical  statutes ;  we  en- 
gaged to  observe  them  all,  and  confirmed 
our  engagement  with  an  oath.  But  how 
easily  might  we  have  eluded  the  obligation, 
if,  when  called  upon  for  conformity  and 
obedience,  this  salvo  had  come  into  our 
heads  : — The  university  does  not,  in  these 
statutes,  set  forth  our  duty,  but  barely  de- 
fines the  terms  ;  she  does  not  insist  upon  a 
conformity,  but  only  flourishes  a  little  upon 
terms,  and  leaves  us  to  obey  or  disobe^;  as 
we  shall  find  ourselves  inclined. 

"  Barely  defines  the  term,  without  either 
affirming  or  denying  the  thing."  How! 
Does  she  not  affirm  the  thing,  when  she 
styles  it  an  "  excellent  benefit  of  God  ?" 
Declares  it  to  be  "  full  of  sweet,  pleasant, 
and  unspeakable  comfort"  to  the  godly? 
That  it  "  greatly  establishes  and  confirms 
their  faith  of  eternal  salvation,  and  fervently 
kindles  their  love  towards  God?"  "Not 
affirm  the  thing  !"  when  she  expressly  as- 
cribes such  fruits  and  consequents  to  it ! 
This  is  not  only  affirming,  but  affirming 
with  the  highest  approbation,  like  proclaim- 
ing the  king,  and  placing  the  crown  upon 
his  head. 

In  one  part  of  your  Preservative  you 
enumerate,  and  very  properly  display,  what 
you  call  "  The  five  benefits  of  baptism." 
Suppose  a  Quaker,  upon  reading  this  pas- 
sage, should  say,  "  Friend  Wesley,  thou 
barely  definest  the  term,  thou  neither  af- 
firmcst  nor  deniest  the  thing.  This  is  no 
jnoof  that  thou  thyself  believest  a  tittle  of 
watLM-baptism,_or  wouldest  have  thy  readers 
believe  the  reality  of  any  such  ordinance." 
Should  the  Quaker  argue  thus,  he  would 
argue  just  like  yourself.  But  I  apprehend 
ho  would  not  be  so  boldly  disingeimous  ;  he 
would  rather  confess,  "  Friend  John  doth 
certainly  maintain  and  believe  these  things ; 
but  his  opinion  is  mistaken,  and  his  argu- 
ments are  inconclusive."  "  The  31st  Ar- 
ticle totally  overthrows  predestination,  and 
razes  it  from  the  foundation."  If  so,  it 
makes  one  Article  contradict  another  ;  con- 
sequently, weakens  the  authority,  and  un- 
dermines the  credibility  of  them  all.  In 
this  Article  are  two  jioints  more  particularly 
proper  fur  our  inquiry  ;    "  The  great  salva- 


tion, and  the  numoer  of  the  saved.  I  can- 
not buc  query,  whether  you  believe  the 
former,  or  rightly  understand  the  latter. 

The  great  salvation,  expressed  in  the  fol- 
lowing words :  "  The  offering  of  Christ 
once  made,  is  that  perfect  redemption,  pro- 
pitiation, and  jatisiaction  for  all  the  sins  of 
the  whole  world,  both  original  and  actual." 
If  I  take  these  words  as  I  am  enjoined,  in 
the  literal  and  grammatical  sense,  I  must 
believe,  that  Christ  engaged  to  satisfy  of- 
fended justice  for  every  sin  which  I  have 
committed,  or  shall  commit,  throughout  my 
whole  life :  My  past  sins,  at  that  rime,  had 
no  more  existence  than  my  future  sins  have 
at  this  hour,  but  both  were  eoually  laid  upon 
my  Lord.  . 

Having  undertaken  this  greatest  of  all 
works,  I  must  believe  that  he  fully  accom- 
plished it ;  and  actually  satisfied  for  all  my 
transgressions,  of  every  kind  and  every  date. 
A  possibility,  or  mere  chance  of  being  re- 
deemed, can  never  be  reckoned  a  perfect 
redemption :  Neither  would  our  Saviour 
have  paid  down  a  positive  price  for  a  pre- 
carious conditional  good  ;  much  less  would 
he  have  paid  an  immense,  an  infinite  price, 
upon  a  bare  uncertainty  whether  it  should 
take  any  efl'ect,  or  ever  obtain  its  desired 
end.  I  believe,  therefore,  that  the  satisfac- 
tion is  made  for  me  ;  that  God  has  received 
the  all-sufficient  atonement  in  behalf  of  all 
my  provocations  ;  and  that  there  is  no  more 
ground  of  condemnation  for  me,  a  vile  sin- 
ner, than  there  is  room  for  the  prosecution 
of  an  insolvent, -all  whose  debts  are  defray- 
ed, even  to  the  very  last  mite. 

The  number  of  the  saved,  expressed  in 
those  words,  "  The  sins  of  the  whole 
world."  This  I  acknowledge  to  be  the  lan- 
guage of  Scripture  ;  and  I  promise  mys^f 
you  will  bear  with  me,  while  I  offer  my 
thoughts  concerning  the  occasion  and  the 
imjiort  of  such  language. 

In  the  antediluviiin  and  patriarchal  ages, 
the  Lord  Jehovah  confined  his  favour  to  a 
few  particular-  families.  When  he  formed 
his  Israel  into  a  commonwealth,  he  chose 
them  to  himself,  and  separated  them  from 
all  other  nations.  To  them  he  gave  his 
oracles,  his  ordinances,  and  his  covenants, 
yea,  he  honoured  and  indulged  them  with 
his  divine  presence.  In  this  the  Israelites 
gloried  ;  they  appropriated  this  privilege 
to  themselves,  and  held  other  people  at  a 
distance,  looking  upon  them  as  strangers, 
and  without  God  in  the  world  :  hence  that 
chosen  seed  spares  not  to  say,  "  We  are 
thine  ;  thou  never  barest  rule  over  them  ; 
they  were  not  called  by  thy  name." — At  the 
commencement  of  the  Messiah's  kingdom, 
the  Lord  jmrposed  to  change  the  scene,  and 
vary  the  dispensation,  by  admitting  both 
.lews  and  Gentiles  to  an  interest  in  the 
great    salvation  :     at     they    were    equally 


6?.4 


LETTERS   TO  THE 


chargeable  with  sin,  and  equally  liable  to 
the  curse,  they  should  now  stand  upon  a 
level ;  be  equally  sharers  in  that  divine  Sa- 
viour, who  subuiits  to  be  made  sin,  and  to 
be  made  a  curse  for  both  alike.  This  the 
Holy  Ghost  expressly  and  repeatedly  pro- 
mised, "  He  (that  is,  the  Redeemer  which 
is  to  come)  shall  speak  peace  unto  the  Hea- 
then ;  his  dominion  shall  be  from  sea  even  to 
sea,  and  from  the  river  even  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth." 

Notwithstanding  such  prophecies  and 
such  promises,  our  Lord  himself,  when  he 
entered  upon  his  ministry,  acted  a  discri- 
minating part,  and  kept  up  the  partition  wall, 
in  pursuance  of  that  declaration,  "  I  am  not 
sent,  but  unto  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of 
Israel."  When  he  sent  forth  his  disciples 
to  preach  and  to  teach,  he  gave  them  also 
a  command  to  show  the  same  partial  re- 
gard, "  Go  ye  not  into  the  way  of  the  Gen- 
tiles." This  conduct  of  our  Lord,  both 
under  the  Old  Testament  and  the  New, 
confirmed  the  Jews  in  their  self-flattering 
notion,  that  they  were,  and  ever  should  be, 
a^favourite  nation  and  a  peculiar  people. 
The  Gentiles,  on  the  other  hand,  were  no 
less  discouraged  ;  apprehending  that  as  they 
were,  so  they  ever  should  be,  "  aliens  from 
the  commonwealth  of  Israel."  But  in  or- 
der to  convince  the  Jews  of  their  mistake 
in  claiming  the  blessing  of  Abraham  to 
themselves  ;  and  in  order  to  assure  the  poor 
discarded  Gentiles  that  they  should  be 
"  fellow-heirs  and  of  the  same  body  ;"  our 
Lord  in  his  last  charge  to  his  apostles,  al- 
ters the  style  of  his  commission,  and  en- 
larges the  sphere  of  their  several  depart- 
ments. It  is  now  no  longer,  "  Go  not  in- 
to the  way  of  the  Gentiles,"  but  quite  the 
iif  verse  :  ■•'  Go  teach  all  nations  of  the 
world,"  yea,  and  "•  every  creature  :  who- 
soever believeth  (whether  Jew  or  Gentile) 
shall  be  saved." 

Still  the  Jews  were  hardly  induced  to 
give  the  risjht  hand  of  fellowship  to  their 
brethren  the  Gentiles  ;  For  St.  Peter  cries, 
with  some  indignation,  "  Not  so.  Lord." 
Still  the  Gentiles,  luudly  persuaded  that 
they  should  be  ])artakers  of  the  grace,  rea- 
soned against  themselves,  "  The  Lord  hath 
utteily  sejiarated  me  from  his  people." 
Therefore  the  Lord,  to  intercept  all  the  de- 
pponding  objections  of  the  latter,  and  to 
bring  down  the  high  disdainful  imagina- 
tions of  the  former,  declares  in  a  variety  of 
j)laces,  that  the  diiference  no  longer  subsists; 
that  Christ  has  thrown  down  the  partition 
wall,  and  laid  all  plain,  and  common,  and 
free.  Though  the  giving  of  the  law  per- 
tained to  Israel  only,  the  Lord  Jesus  gave 
liimself  a  ransom  for  all  people.  Though 
the  paschal  Lamb  extended  its  infiueiiee 
only  to  the  circimicision,  the  Lamb  of  God 
is  a  "  projiitiation  for  the  sins  of  the  whole 


world,"  even  tlioiigli  it  be  not  ciii-unici.-ed. 
And  now  God  would  have  all  men,  >vhe- 
ther  bond  or  free,  Jews  or  Gentiles,  Greeks 
or  Barbarians,  to  be  saved,  by  coming  unto 
the  knowledge  of  the  faith. 

This  account  gives  tis  the  true  cause,  and 
points  out  the  intended  use,  of  such  univer- 
sal phrases.  They  are  calculated  to  al)ate 
the  pride  of  the  Jews,  to  encourage  the  de- 
spised Gentiles,  and,  by  excludmg  none, 
they  give  encouragement  for  all  to  come ; 
because,  though  every  individual  person  will 
not  be  saved,  yet  "  whosoever  cometh  shall 
in  no  wise  be  cast  out."  By  this  interpre- 
tation, the  phrase  is  neither  inconsistent 
with  other  texts,  neither  does  our  own 
church  contradict  herself. 

Upon  the  whole,  you  will  please  to  ob- 
serve, that  I  should  never  have  touched  up- 
on this  subject,  had  not  your  objections,  far- 
fetched and  forced  as  they  are,  given  me  a 
kind  of  challenge.  And  now  1  have  touch- 
ed upon  the  subject,  it  is  not  as  a  champion 
for  the  cause,  but  only  to  show  the  weak- 
ness and  the  inconsistenry  of  your  arguing; 
how  little  you  avail  yourself,  even  on  a 
point  where  you  think  ojjposition  vain  and 
your  arm  irresistible. 

"  Believers,  who  are  notorious  transgres- 
sors in  themselves,  have  a  sinless  obedience 
in  Christ."  This  passage  you  select  as 
faulty,  I  presume  because  it  is  opposite  to 
your  favourite  tenet,  "  Perfection  in  personal 
holiness."  By  notorious,  I  mean  acknow- 
ledgetl,  confessed,  indisputably  such.  If 
you  are  not  such  a  transgressor,  why  do  you 
daily  confess  yoursielf  a  miserable  sinner? 
Why  do  you  acknowledge  that  you  are 
"tied  and  bound  with  the  chain  of  your  sins," 
and  declare  before  all  men  "  that  there  is  no 
health  in  you?"  All  this  J\Ir-  Wesley  speaks 
with  his  lips,  and  I  woidd  hope  believes  in 
his  heart.  Yet  all  this  does  not  ainoiinC 
"  to  a  notorious  transgressor  !"  Pray  then, 
good  Sir,  inform  us  what  sort  of  transgres- 
sor is  described  by  all  these  expressions. 

You  cry  out,  "  O  syren  song  !"  The 
Psalmist  would  have  taught  you  a  better 
exclamation.  If  this  is  tde  case,  "  let  us 
rejoice  with  trembling."  Are  we  noto- 
rious transgressors  in  ourselves  ?  The  con- 
sciousness of  this  is  the  strongest  motive  to 
humility.  Have  we  a  sinless  obedience  in 
Christ?  The  belief  of  this  is  an  abundant 
source  of  joy.  When  you  add,  "  pleasing 
sound  to  James  Wheatly !  Thomas  Wil- 
liams!  James  i'eily !"  lam  quite  asham- 
ed of  your  meanness,  and  grieved  at  your 
uncharitable  rashness.  How  unworthy  is 
such  a  procedure,  either  of  the  gentleman, 
the  (Christian,  or  the  man  of  sense  ?  Un- 
worthy the  gentleman,  to  stigmatize  by 
name,  and  ex])ose  to  the  most  j)ublic  infa- 
my. Unworthy  the  Christian,  whose  cha- 
rity  concealeth,   rather   than    divulgeth  and 


KCV.   M5i.    WESLEY. 


y:J3 


proL-laimetn  upon  the  house-tops.  Unwor- 
thy the  man  of  sense,  who  knows  that  the 
miscarriages  of  a  professor  are  no  argument 
against  the  soundness  of  a  doctrine  :  if  they 
were,  would  not  your  own  priucii)les  totter, 
nay,  how  could  Christianity  itself  stand  ? 

"  Elijah  failed  in  his  resignation,  and 
even  Moses  himself  spake  unadvisedly  with 
liis  lips."  "  It  is  true,  (says  Mr.  Wesley). 
J5ut  if  you  could  likewise  fix  some  blot 
uj)on  venerable  Samuel,  and  beloved  Dan- 
iel, it  would  prove  nothing."  I  have  no 
desire  to  fix  a  blot ;  but  if  J  find  it  in  the 
most  accom])lished  character,  this  proves 
the  projwsition  which  Aspasio  maintains, 
"  That  the  very  best  of  men  fall  short ;  that 
the  very  best  of  men  will  be  found  guilty,  if 
tried  by  the  I'ighteous  law  ;  that  the  very 
best  of  men  have  nothing  more  to  plead  for 
acceptance  with  the  High  and  Holy  One, 
than  the  criminal  who  yesterday  murdered 
his  benefactor,  to-morrow  is  to  be  executed 
for  his  crime,  and  is  now  flying  to  the  re- 
demption that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  for  the 
chief  of  sinners." 

"  No  Scripture  teaches  that  the  holiness 
of  Christians  is  to  be  measured  by  that  of 
any  Jew."  I  should  be  afraid  to  advance 
such  a  position,  after  having  read  that  gen- 
eral exhortation,  "  Be  ye  followers  of  them 
who  through  faith  and  patience  inherit  the 
promises  ;"  and  those  more  particular  refer- 
ences to  the  ancient  saints,  cou) prised  in 
the  eleventh  chapter  to  the  Hebrews. 
Were  not  they  Jews  ?  Does  not  the  aj)os- 
tle  propose  them  as  patterns  for  our  imita- 
tion ?  Is  not  this  his  language.  Let  us  act 
in  conformity  to  their  practice  ?  "  Th 
Spirit  of  Christ  was  in  them,"  and  "  they 
obtained  (even  from  the  supreme  Judge)  a 
good  report.''  Agreeably  to  this  divine  tes- 
timonial, we  are  directed  to  learn  from  Abel 
a  fiduciary  dependence  on  the  great  atone- 
ment ;  and  from  Enoch,  a  life  of  commun- 
ion with  a  reconciled  God.  The  prophets 
are  recommended  to  oiur  contemplation, 
as  "  examples  of  suflTering  afliiction,  and  of 
patience."  Elijah  is  set  before  us  as  an  in- 
stance of  persevering  and  successful  prayer  ; 
and  we  are  directed  to  walk  in  the  steps  of 
our  father  Abraham's  filith.  This  was  the 
counsel  of  an  apostle  to  others  ;  this  was 
the  aim  of  an  apostle  with  regard  to  him- 
self ;  therefore  I  think,  it  can  never  be  un- 
worthy of  you,  or  unfit  for  the  most  advanc- 
ed among  your  disciples.  For  my  part,  I 
sh:ill  reckon  myself  truly  happy,  I  sliall  bless 
the  (hiy  whereon  I  was  born,  if  I  may  but 
be  enabled  to  follow  the  footsteps  of  these 
iUustrious  leaders,  though — Non  passibw; 
fitjiiis.  That  Christians  ought  to  rise  above 
tile  level  of  the  common  Jews,  1  freely  own. 
Mr.  Wesley's  mistake  seems  to  lie  in  con- 
founding the  common  with  the  uncommon  ,- 
in  not  discerning  the  cUU'erence  between  uny 


and  every,  between  some,  and  «//.  Sonte- 
.lews  were  blessed  with  extraordinary  en- 
dowments ;  they  had  distinguislifdcoiMuuiii- 
ications  of  the  Spirit  of  wisdom  and  holi- 
ness. They  were  as  the  "  stones  of  a 
crowai,  lifted  up  as  an  ensign  upon  his 
land."  Their  great  achievements  and  emi- 
nent attainments  are  described  in  the  afore- 
mentioned chapter,  which  may  truly  be 
styled  the  golden  legend  ;  great  things,  im- 
possible to  flesh  and  blood,  they  both  per- 
formed and  suffered  ;  such  as  characterise  a 
saint  of  the  highest  ranlc.  To  imitate  these 
is  the  duty  of  all  Christians ;  to  equal  them 
is  the  privilege  of  few. 

Let  me  illustrate  this  sentiment :  the 
reader,  I  apprehend,  will  hardly  think  it 
needs  confirmation.  Every  graduate  in  the 
university,  much  more  every  minister  of  the 
gospel,  ought  to  exceed  the  schoolboy  in 
learning  and  knowledge.  Yet  there  have 
been  schoolboys  with  whom  few  ministers, 
and  fewer  graduates,  will  ventiu'e  to  com- 
pare themselves.  A  recent  instance  of  this 
kind  we  have  in  the  famous  Baratier.  This 
wonderful  youth,  when  he  was  but  four 
years  old,  spoke  French  to  his  mother,  La- 
tin to  his  father,  High-Dutch  to  his  maid. 
At  the  age  of  six,  he  explained  the  Hebrew 
text  as  readily  as  if  it  had  been  his  native 
German.  When  other  lads  are  scarce  able 
to  read  with  fluency  and  propriety  their  mo- 
ther tongue,  he  was  not  only  acquainted 
with,  but  master  of  five  several  languages. 
In  his  eleventh  year,  he  published  a  le.u  iied 
Latin  dissertation,  and  translated  a  book  of 
travels  out  of  Hebrew  into  French.  While 
a  mere  boy,  he  was  qualified  to  dispute  with 
professors  of  the  sciences,  was  honoured 
with  a  seat  at  an  ecclesiastical  synod,  and 
admitted  to  the  degree  of  doctor  in  philoso- 
phy. Upon  this  narrative  I  shall  only  ob- 
serve, that  many  of  the  Jews,  whose  names 
are  immortalized  in  Scripture,  were,  in  faith, 
in  godliness,  and  all  that  is  exemplary,  so 
many  Baratiers. 

"  Do  not  the  best  of  men  frequently  feel 
disorder  in  their  afiections  ?  Do  they  lu  t 
often  complain,  When  I  would  do  good,  evil 
is  present  with  me?"  "I  bc]ie\e  not." 
What  a  proof  is  here  !  How  well  suited  to 
its  office  ;  which  is  to  control  the  current, 
and  overrule  the  evidence  of  ancient  and 
modem  consent.  But  why  do  not  you  be- 
lieve what  Aspasio  supposes  ?  Is  your  dis» 
belief  grounded  on  fact?  Are  you  acipiaint- 
ed  with  any  people  who  feel  no  disorder  in 
their  affections  ?  who  always  do  good  in  the 
completest  manner  ?  and  never  have  evil 
present  with  them  ?  If  so,  what  are  their 
names  ?  where  do  they  live  ?  We  would  go 
many  miles  to  see  them.  You  have  no 
aversion  to  the  mention  of  names,  when 
ccnstu'e  is  the  motive,  aiul  i)ublic  (fisgracc 
the  effect ;  why  should  you  be  so  reluctant, 


536 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


when  honour  and  distinguished  respect 
would  be  the  consequence  ? 

Do  they  not  say,  "  We  groan,  being  bur- 
dened with  the  worlcings  of  inbred  corrup- 
tion ?" — "  This  is  not  the  meaning  of  the 
text.  The  whole  context  shows  the  cause 
of  that  groaning  was  their  longing  to  be  with 
Christ."  You  need  not  on  this  occasion 
rummage  the  context,  or  take  a  jouniey  to 
find  what  is  at  your  door.  The  sentence  it- 
self shows,  as  plainly  as  words  can  show,  the 
cause  of  their  groaning.  We  groan — it  is 
not  said  because  we  long  to  be  with  Chiist. 
This  might  be  a  truth  ;  but  this  is  not  the 
cause  assigned :  "  We  groan  because  we  are 
burdened."  Burdened  with  what  ?  Aspa- 
sio  answers,  with  a  body  of  sin  and  death, 
or  with  what  the  apostle  himself  styles  to 
(vriTov.  This,  whatever  it  means,  was  the 
load  that  encumbered  them,  oppressed  them, 
and  made  them  sigh  ardently  for  deliverance. 
Does  not  this  signify  all  the  infirmities  and 
disorders  of  the  present  mortal  st^te  ? 
Among  which,  the  sad  effects  of  inbred  cor- 
ruption are  none  of  the  least.  These  gave 
those  magnanimous  but  pious  souls  more 
uneasiness  than  all  other  kinds  of  affliction 
■whatever.  * 

"  The  cure  of  sin  will  be  perfected  in 
heaven."  "  Nay,  surely  in  paradise."  As- 
pasio  knows  no  difference  between  paradise 
and  lieaven.  Paradise  is  the  kingdom  where 
Christ  reigns  ;  and  is  not  this  heaven  ?  Pa- 
rudise  is  the  region  where  the  tree  of  life 
grows  ;  and  is  not  this  heaven  ?  Heaven 
denotes  the  place;  paradise  describes  its 
nature^-a  place  of  consummate  bliss  and 
absolute  perfection,  where  is  the  fulness  of 
joy  and  pleasure  for  evermore.  However,  if 
it  can  be  ])roved  that  they  are  different 
abodes,  and  imply  different  states,f  then 
Aspasio  would  be  understood  to  say,  the 
cure  of  sin  is  completed  in  paradise  ;  or  as 
soon  as  the  believer  drops  his  flesh,  and  en- 
ters the  invisible  world. 

"  This  (a  perfect  conformity  to  God)  is 
a  noble  prerogative  of  the  beatific  vision." 
« No ;"    says    Mr.    Wesley.      Though    St. 


*  "  We  groan,  being  burdened  with  a  sense  of  our 
spiritual  infirmities,  and  v/ith  the  workings  of  inbred 
corruption;"  This  is  Aspasio's  interpretation.  "We 
groan,  being  burdened  with  numberless  infirmities, 
temptations,  and  sins ;"  This  is  Mr.  Wesley's  interpre- 
tation in  his  Expository  Notes  on  the  New  "Testament. 
Vet  here  he  denies  what  there  he  affirms.  It  is  said, 
i  think  of  Ishmael,  "  His  hand  will  Ix;  against  every 
man."  Mr.  Wesley  goes  a  step  farther,  his  hand  is 
against  himsetf,  as  well  as  against  every  body  else. 

t  St.  Paul,  I  am  aware,  speFUsofheaven,and  speaks 
of  paradise,  2  Cor.  xii.  2,  4.  So  does  Uavid  speak  of 
"  rising  up  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord,"  and  of  "  stand- 
ing in  his  holy  place."  But  as  the  same  thing,  though 
variously  expressed,  is  meant  by  the  Psalmist,  I  think 
■we  may  not  unreasonably  understand  the  ajiostle  in 
the  same  manner.  If  they  had  been  ditterent  habita- 
tions, methinks  he  would  have  mentioned  paradise 
first,  and  then  the  third  heavens.  Otlurwise  he  tells 
thestorybut  awkwanlly;  for  ho  first  mentions  his  ar- 
rival at  the  third  heavens,  and  th:Mi  at  i-araUise;  tliat 
!S,  according  to  Mr.  VVcslev,  first  ho  was  led  into  the 
preseuce,  audthcu  introduced  to  thcanUclianiliLr. 


John,  one  would  think,  had  settled  and  ascer- 
tained this  point  beyond  all  contradiction  : 
"  We  shall  be  like  him,  for  we  shall  see  him 
as  he  is."  We  shall ;  which  intimates,  that 
at  present  we  are  not  perfectly  like  him. 
For ;  which  denotes  the  efhcient  cause  of 
this  advancement  and  felicity,  this  complete 
transformation  into  the  divine  image.  We 
shall  see  him,  no  longer  through  a  glass,  but 
face  to  face  :  We  shall  receive  the  clearest 
manifestation  of  his  ineffable  holiness  and 
glory,  which  will  have  just  the  same  eflPect 
upon  our  souls  as  the  imprinted  seal  has  up- 
on the  melting  wax. 

"  It  would  then  come  too  late.  If  sin 
remains  in  us  till  the  day  of  judgment,  it  will 
remain  in  us  for  ever."  You  suppose,  that 
the  beatific  vision  is  not  enjoyed  till  the  day 
of  judgment.  But  in  this  you  seem  to  err, 
not  knowing  the  Scripture.  I  have  a  desire, 
says  the  apostle,  to  be  dissolved.  And  what 
is  the  consequence,  the  immediate  conse- 
quenceof  dissolution  ?  "  To  be  with  Christ," 
in  his  presence,  before  his  throne.  And  is 
not  this  the  beatific  vision  ?  "  Willing  (says 
the  inspired  writer)  to  be  absent  from  the 
body,  and  present  with  the  Lord."  Here  is 
no  hint  of  any  intermediate  state  ;  but  the 
very  moment  in  which  the  saints  depart  from 
their  bodies,  they  are  present  with  the  Lord  ; 
and  if  with  the  Lord,  then  in  the  highest 
heavens,  then  at  the  fountain-head  of  felicity, 
then  amidst  the  beatific  vision.  To  heaven 
Elijah  was  conveyed  in  his  fiery  chariot'; 
and  into  heaven  the  first  martyr  was  re- 
ceived by  his  compassionate  Saviour.  Nei- 
ther of  them  waited  in  some  intervening 
mansion,  as  a  kind  of  lobby  to  the  heaven 
of  heavens.  This  is  the  Popish  notion,  and 
veiy  closely  connected  with  the  chimera  of 
purgatory  ;  so  closely  connected,  that  if  you 
take  away  the  former,  the  latter  diops  into 
nothing.  I  am  sorry  your  opinions,  Sir,  are 
so  much  like  the  errors  of  the  man  of  sin. 

"  Our  present  blessedness  does  not  con- 
sist in  being  free  from  sin."  "  I  really 
think  it  does."  Spoken  like  Mr.  Wesley. 
/  think,  is  still  the  arc/umenf.um  jmhnarium.  I 
think,  is  the  heavy  artillery  which  is  to  de- 
molish brigades  at  a  blow ;  only  here  it  is 
strengthened  and  enforced  by  that  emphati- 
cal  word  really.  But  if  our  present  bless- 
edness does  really  consist  in  being  free  from 
sin,  where  are  your  blessed  persons  ?  We 
may  truly  say, 

Apparent  rari  nantes  in  gurgite  vasto.  Virg. 
No  ;  this  can  hardly  be  said.  Virgil's  de- 
scription is  too  full :  instead  of  seeing  a 
very  few,  here  and  there  one,  popping  up 
their  heads,  in  the  great  and  wide  ocean  of 
the  world,  we  are  not  able  to  find  so  much 
as  an  individual :  shew  us  one,  only  one  of 
these  angels  in  fiesh  and  blood,  and  it  suf- 
fieeth  us.  Whereas,  if  you  persist  in  main- 
taining your  sinless   perfection,   yet  cannot 


REV.   Mil.   WESLEY. 


537 


produce  a  siiigie  instance  to  cveinplify  your 
iiDtioii,  will  you  not  give  too  just  a  handle 
for  that  sarcastic  reflection  used  on  another 
occasion  ? 

With  witnesses  many  this  cause  did  abound ; 

With  some  that  were  hang'd,  and  some  that  were 

(irown'd ; 
And  some  that  were  lost,  and  some  never  found. 

Those  are  Aspasio's  words :  "  It  (our 
present  imperfection)  perpetually  reminds 
us  of  a  most  important  truth,  that  our  pre- 
sent blessedness  consists,  not  in  being  free 
from  all  sin,  but  in  having  no  sin  imputed 
to  us."  He  took  particular  care  to  guard 
his  meaning  from  misconstruction,  by  adding 
tlio  word  all.  Lest  this  word,  because  it  is 
little  of  stature,  should  be  overlooked,  he 
l)rinted  it  in  italics.  But  all  this' precaution 
is  thrown  aw.ay  upon  Mr.  Wesley.  He 
takes  no  notice  of  this  same  little  word  ; 
nay,  he  shuts  it  entirely  out  of  his  quota- 
tion, as  though  he  should  say,  Where  is  the 
/larm  of  clapping  imder  the  hatches  such  a 
jiuny  insigniticant  monosyllable  ?  I  would 
iiave  it  to  know,  I  shall  ere  long  turn  adrift 
more  plump  and  portly  words  than  that. 

Aspasio  also  took  care  to  confirm  his 
sentiments  by  a  reference  to  Scripture  :  he 
supported  himself  by  the  authority  of  King 
David.  Mr.  Wesley,  having  a  little  while 
iigo  laboured  to  depreciate,  now  ventures  to 
<ontradict  the  royal  Psalmist.  "  Blessed," 
says  the  Psalmist,  "  is  the  man " — who  is 
free  from  sin  ?  who  is  perfectly  sanctified  ? 
Tills  is  not  the  doctrine  which  the  sweet 
singer  of  Israel  teaches,  but  "  blessed  is  he 
whose  transgression  is  forgiven,  whose  sin 
is  covered."  Deeply  impressed,  and  quite 
charmed,  with  the  contemplation  of  this 
most  substantial  happiness,  the  sacred  writer 
proclaims  it,  repeats  it ;  yes,  a  third  time 
lie  celebrates  it,  crying  out  with  ardour  of 
joy,  "  Blessed  is  the  man  unto  whom  the 
ijord  imputeth  no  iniquity,"*  P.salm  xxxii. 
I ,  '2  ;  neither  that  iniquity  which  was  for- 
merly committed,  nor  that  which  still  defiles, 
Psalm  XV.  3.  Blessed  indeed !  Alay  I 
live  under  a  firm  ])ersuasion  of  my  own 
particular  interest  in  this  unspeakable  privi- 
lege !  May  I  find  it  made  good  to  my 
soul  at  the  universal  judgment !  Then  let 
Others  take  the  kingdoms  of  this  world,  and 
all  the  glory  of  them.  And  as  for  Aspa- 
sio, he  may  reckon  his  credit  safe,  and  his 
oiiinion  fully  authorized,  while  he  espouses 
the  doctrine,  and  uses  the  veiy  words  of  the 
unerring  Sj)irit. 

"  If  we  are  not  free  from  sin,  we  are  not 
Christian  believers."  What  an  assertion  is 
here  !  Assertion,  for  I  dare  not  call  it  a 
truth.  If  it  was,  who  then  could  be  saved? 
Js'ot  one  of  a  thousand,  not  two  of  a  million; 


•  Should  any  objec'ion  aviso  from  the  next  scn- 
tt lue,  the  rcider  may  sec  it  anticipalai,  and  suiicr- 
tcdtd,  in  'I'licron  and  Asp.t3;0. 


no,  nor  Mr.  John  Wesley  himself,  since  out 
of  his  own  mouth  he  stands  condemned. 
He  makes  this  acknowledgnu'iit  concerning 
himself  and  his  followers,  "  We  know  by 
melancholy  experience  whtit  it  is  to  neglect 
works  of  righteousness."  To  corroborate  his 
confession,  he  adds,  "  We'  knc>w  and  feel 
by  melancholy  experience,  what  it  is  to 
swerve  from  om-  first  love."  We  feel  by  ex- 
perience :  He  is  willing  to  run  the  hazard 
of  tautology,  rather  than  any  should  susjiect 
the  sincerity  and  truth  of  his  protestation. 
And  can  you,  after  such  a  confession,  after 
such  a  protestation,  pretend  to  be  free  from 
sin?  Is  all  this  which  you  know  of  your- 
self, and  feel  by  experience,  consistent  with 
a  sinless  state  ?  Just  as  much  as  a  lethargy 
is  consistent  with  the  vigour  of  health,  or  a 
shameful  flight  with  a  glorious  victory.  See, 
Sir,  how  you  are  entangled  in  your  own 
net ;  how,  without  being  chased  by  an  ene- 
my, you  run  yourself  aground.  Nor  will  all 
your  dexterity,  so  long  as  you  avow  such 
palpable  inconsistencies,  be  able  to  set  you 
clear. 

You  attempt  to  confirm  your  opinion  by 
the  apostle's  declaration,  "  Being  made  free 
from  sin."  But  he  and  you  mean  different 
things  by  the  same  words."  He  means  be- 
ing freed  from  the  dominion  of  sin.  This 
is  agreeable  to  his  own  explanation,  "  Sin  (ow 
Ku^iiuffii')  shall  not  lord  it  over  you."  It 
may  assault  you,  it  may  harass  you,  it  may 
gain  some  advantage  over  you ;  but  it  shall 
not  obtain  a  final  victory,  nor  play  the  ty- 
rant over  you.  To  the  expedience  and  ne- 
cessity of  this  freedom,  if  ever  we  would 
approve  ourselves  disciples  of  Christ,  or 
Christians  indeed,  I  readily  subscribe. 
Whereas,  you  mean  being  freed  from  the 
very  remainders  of  sin.  "  Having  a  purity 
(it  is  your  own  explanation)  free  from  till 
mixture  of  its  contrary,  and  a  resignation 
excluding  every  degree  of  self-will."  Against 
the  existence,  or  the  possibility  of  this  free- 
dom, so  long  as  we  sojourn  in  a  body  of 
flesh,  I  enter  my  protest. 

"  If  we  were  perfect  in  piety,  Christ's 
priestly  oftice  would  be  superseded."  "  No  ; 
we  should  still  need  his  Spirit,  and  conse- 
quently his  intercession."  But  were  we 
perfect,  we  should  receive  the  Spirit  with- 
out an  intercessor.  An  intercessor  implies 
an  alienation  between  the  two  parties  ;  or 
something  which,  without  the  intervention 
of  a  third  person,  would  create  alienation. 
The  priestly  othce,  whether  of  atoning,  or 
of  interceding,  is  founded  on  a  state  of  guilt  ; 
to  this  it  bears  an  essential  and  invariable 
relation.  Does  Christ  exercise  his  priestly 
office  in  behalf  of  angels  ?  No  ;  because 
they  excel  in  strength,  and  are  jierfect  in 
holiness.  Will  Christ  exercise  his  jiriestly 
office,  when  all  his  saints  are  received  into 
glory  ?   No  ;  because  then  there  \\  ill   be  an 


538 


LETTEFvS  TO  THE 


absolute  consummation  both  in  body  and 
soul,  both  in  righteousness  and  happiness, 
and  the  mediatorial  kingdom  be  delivered 
tip  to  the  Father.  Did  Christ  exercise  his 
priesty  office  before  Adam  fell  ?  No  ;  be- 
cause sin  had  no  existence  then  ;  and  then 
the  language  was,  "  let  man  be  blessed," 
not  "  deliver  him  from  going  down  into  the 
pit." 

The  objections  laid  to  my  charge  in  this 
paragraph,  and  the  whole  side  of  the  leaf, 
j)roceed  upon  your  favourite  notion,  perfec- 
tion of  holiness,  even  while  we  continue  in 
houses  of  clay.  As  I  look  upon  your  foun- 
dation to  be  a  mere  delusion,  I  must  of 
course  conclude  all  that  you  build  upon  it 
to  be  chimerical  and  delusory;  therefore, 
till  you  prove  your  supposition,  I  have  no 
reason  to  concern  myself  with  any  of  your 
consequences  deduced  from  it,  or  with  any 
of  your  allegations  relating  to  it.  On  one 
clause,  however,  let  me  bestow  a  slight  ani- 
madversion. 

Aspasio  says,  A  sense  of  remaining  in- 
bred corruption  will  reconcile  ns  to  death. 
Mr.  Wesley  replies,  "  Indeed  it  will  not ; 
nor  will  any  thing  do  this  like  perfect  love." 
Here  I  think  you  have  missed  the  mark. 
Nothing  can  reconcile  us  to  death  but  that 
which  takes  away  its  sting;  and  this  is  done 
only  by  the  atonement  of  Christ.  Nothing 
can  reconcile  us  to  death  but  that  which 
delivers  us  from  its  terror ;  and  this  is  ef- 
fected only  by  the  sacrifice  of  our  great 
High-priest,  which  has  converted  the  king 
of  terrors  into  a  messenger  of  peace.  No- 
thing can  reconcile  us  to  death,  but  that 
which  makes  it  desirable  to  depart,  and  gain 
to  die ;  and  this  is  owing,  wholly  owing  to 
him  who  died  for  us,  that  whether  we  wake 
or  sleep,  we  should  live  together  with  him. 

Old  Simeon  found,  that  nothing  could 
reconcile  him  to  death,  so  much  as  a  be- 
lieving view  of  the  Lord's  Christ.  Seeing 
God  made  flesh,  seeing  him  as  his  own  Sa- 
viour, he  was  enabled  not  only  to  acquiesce 
in  the  summons,  but  to  welcome  it  as  a  de- 
liverance. He  was  enabled  to  say  with 
composme  and  complacency,  "  Lord,  now 
Icttest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace  :" 
Not  because  I  am  weary  of  this  imperfect 
state  ;  not  because  I  am  perfect  in  divine 
love  ;  but  because  "  mine  eyes  have  seen 
thy  salvation."  Though  you  may  not  like 
to  imitate  a  Jew,  I  most  heartily  wish  for 
myself,  let  me  die  the  death  of  this  most 
venerable  Hebrew,  and  let  my  latter  end  be 
like  his ! 

If  you  still  persist  in  your  opinion,  that 
nothing  can  reconcile  you  to  dissolution  like 
the  iniiigiiied  perfection  of  your  love — not 
the  blood  by  which  the  saints  overcame,  not 
the  righteousness  by  which  they  reign  in  life, 
not  the  grace  and  power  which  have  swal- 
lowed up  death   in   victory;   I   must   then 


caution  you  to  take  heed  lest  you  cross,  or 
attemjJt  to  cross  the  river,  in  the  boat  of 
vain  confidence.  You  have  abridged,  if  I 
mistake  not,  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  there- 
fore can  be  at  no  loss  to  understand  my 
meaning. 

One  clause,  I  said  ;  but  I  correct  my- 
self:  There  is  another,  so  very  extraordi- 
naiy,  that  you  might  justly  charge  me  with 
inattention,  little  short  of  stupidity,  if  I 
should  pass  it  over  without  notice.  These 
are  the  words  :  "  If  we  were  perfect  in 
piety,  (St.  John's  word  is,  perfect  in  love,) 
we  should  still  be  encompassed  with  infir- 
mities, and  liable  to  mistakes,  from  which 
words  or  actions  might  follow,  even  though 
the  heart  was  all  love,  which  were  not  ex- 
actly right." 

This  is  strange !  Wondrous  strange  in- 
deed !  Perfect,  yet  encompassed  with  infir- 
mities !  Perfect,  yet  doing  actions,  and 
speaking  words  not  exactly  right !  You  are 
as  singular  in  your  idea,  as  you  are  strenuous 
for  the  doctrine  of  perfection.  I  know  not 
any  Protestant  writer  that  pretends  to 
maintain  the  latter,  yourself  only  excepted; 
and  as  to  the  former,  I  think  it  could  never 
enter  into  the  head  of  any  thing  living,  but 
Mr.  Wesley's  only.  Perfect,  yet  encom- 
passed with  infirmities — is  just  as  sound  di- 
vinity, as  true,  yet  addicted  to  lying — is 
sound  morality. 

This  is  not  the  worst  property  of  your 
notion  of  perfection,  that  it  is  absurd  and 
self-contradictory.  A  sentiment  may  be 
absurd,  yet  not  very  pernicious.  But  this 
is  an  error  of  the  most  malignant  kind  ;  this 
was  at  the  bottom  of  the  Pharisees'  pride, 
and  spirited  them  on  to  seek  justification  by 
the  woiks  of  the  law.  They  knew  full 
well,  that  their  obedience  was  not  complete, 
it  did  not  come  up  to  their  sawed  and  ex- 
alted standard  ;  but  they  had  leanit  to 
soften  and  extenuate  their  disobedience  into 
matters  not  exactly  right.  This  is  the 
cause  why  people  professing  Christianity 
see  no  form  or  comeliness  in  Christ,  so 
as  to  desire  him  with  desires  that  cannot  be 
uttered.  It  is  true  they  are  not  perfect, 
they  often  offend ;  but  then  the  ofltnces 
are  only  human  infirmities — words  and  ac- 
tions not  exactly  right.  With  this,  which  ;'§ 
indeed  the  syren  song,  they  lull  their  souls 
into  an  insensibility  of  their  ruined  state, 
and  a  disregard  of  the  all-sufficient  Re- 
deemer. 

"  Cursed  (says  the  law)  is  every  one  that 
continueth  not  in  all  things,"  whether  they 
be  great  or  small  :  And  will  you  regard 
that  as  a  mere  infirmity,  and  consistent  with 
perfection,  on  which  the  divine  law  de- 
nounces a  curse  ?  whicii  tlie  divine  law 
threatens  with  all  miseiy  here,  and  \\ith 
everlasting  vengeance  hereafter  ?  The 
apostle  would  probably  chastise  the  author 


m:v.  Mil 

or  alicttor  of  sucli  a  conceit,  in  tlic  follow- 
ing,'' manner :  "  Wilt  tlioii  know,  (>  vain 
man,  that  what  thou  callest  a  matter  '  not 
exactly  right,'  is  most  horribly  odious  in  the 
eye  of  (iod  s  infinite  purity  ;  deserves  eter- 
nal death  in  the  estimate  of  his  inhnite  jus- 
tice ;  and  could  never  have  been  pardoned 
but  by  the  atoning  deatli  of  his  infinitely 
majestic  Son  !" 

"  PJncomjiassed  with  infirmities,  yet  the 
lieart  all  love  !  Words  and  actions  not  ex- 
actly right,  yet  the  man  iiU  perfection  !" 
'I'hese  are  all  paradoxes  which  I  never  saw 
ctpialled,  only  in  the  writings  of  someliigh- 
iiown  papists.  Mr.  Wesley's  words  are 
not  far  from  a  translation,  they  are  to  a 
nicety  the  sense,  of  those  very  offensive 
passages  which  1  meet  with  in  a  couple  of 
Popish  zealots.  Andradius,  interpreter  of 
the  council  of  Trent,  writes  thus  :  "  Ven- 
ial ia  peccata  tarn  sunt  minuta  et  levia  ut 
lion  adversentur  perfection!  charitatis,  nee 
im])e(lire  jiossunt  ])erfectam  aut  absolutam 
ubcdienliam."*  Lindenus,  another  cham- 
])ion  for  the  same  bad  cause,  expresses  him- 
self in  a  more  elegant,  but  in  no  less  shock- 
ing a  manner  :  "  Levicula  Natiola  lapsuum 
(piotidianorum,  aspergines  et  nievulae  sunt ; 
<pia'  per  se  non  maculant  et  contaminant, 
sed  quasi  pulvisculo  leviter  aspergunt  vitam 
Christianam  ;  ut  nihilominus  tamen  per  se 
sint  perfecta,  et  undique  immaciilata  rena- 
torum  opera  in  hac  vita."-f-  If  Mr.  Wes- 
ley pleases  to  consider  these  passages,  I 
hope  he  will  be  induced  to  alter  his  phrase, 
and  rectify  his  notions.  If  he  pleases  to 
translate  these  passages,  his  followers  may 
have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  how  nearly 
he  ap])roaches  to  some  of  the  worst  errors 
of  Popery ;  and  may  hence  be  admonished 
not  to  imbibe,  without  due  examination,  his 
doctrines  ;  nor  submit  with  an  implicit  cre- 
dulity to  his  dictates. 

"  The  charges  of  the  law  are  all  answer- 
ed." At  this  sentence  Mr.  Wesley  is  higli- 
ly  offended.  As  the  lion  is  said  to  lash 
himself  into  rage,  so  my  objector  stirs  him- 
self liji  into  a  graceful  indignation  ;  for  there 
isnoiliing  in  the  jiassage,  or  in  the  context,  to 
awaken  such  a  thune  of  zeal.  If  Mr.  Wes- 
ley had  understood  Aspasio  according  to 
tlic  whole  tenor  of  his  discourse,  there  would 
liave  been  no  room  for  bringing  Count  Zin- 
zi  iidorf  u])ou  the  carj)et,  nor  for  making 
tliat  iiijurjous  conclusion,  "  Then  neither 
God  nor  man  can   claim  any   obedience  to 


WESLEY. 


539 


*  Venial  sins  are  so  minute  and  trivial,  that  they 
(io  jiot  oppose  tlie  PL  rfuction  of  our  love,  nor  can  they 

hiridtr  our  oljcditjuc liom  iK-ini;  absolutely  perfect. 

t  '1  lie  liltic  irillliiij;  faults  which  are  owin^  to  our 
daily  slips  ot  inislakes,  are  like  specks,  or  almost  iin- 
pcneplible  moles  upon  the  body,  which  oriheiiiselvcs 
ilo  iml  siain  or  di  lile,  but  as  it  were  v.uli  small  ii.ir- 
ticles  of  line  diisl,  lirlluly  sprinkle  the  C'liri.^tiai]', 
life  •    '         


the  law."  This  is  what  Aspasio  means  : 
The  claims  of  the  law,  as  a  covenant  of 
works ;  the  claims  of  the  law,  as  being  the 
condition  of  life  and  glory  ;  the  claims  of 
the  law,  as  requiring  perfect  obedience  on 
pain  of  eternal  death — these  claims  are  all 
sati>;fied  by  our  most  blessed  and  gracious 
Surety :  If  not,  they  are  still  inciniibent 
upon  us,  and  upon  every  child  of  man.  A 
burden  this,  which  neither  "  we  nor  our  fa- 
tiiers  were  able  to  bear  ;"  which,  heavier 
than  the  sands  of  the  sea,  would  have  sunk 
us  into  the  nethermost  hell.  This  doctrine, 
therefore,  is  not  "  Antinomianism  without 
a  mask,"  but  it  is  the  doctrine  of  "  riglite- 
ousness  without  works,"  Rom.  iv.  G,  and 
of  justification  "without  the  deeds  of  the 
law,"  Rom.  iii.  28. 

"  Then  neither  God  nor  man  can  chiiir. 
any  obedience  to  the  law."  Yes,  (jod  Al- 
mighty inay,  and  God  Almighty  does  claim 
our  obedience  to  the  law,  as  a  rule  of  life  : 
he  requires  a  conformity  to  its  precejits,  as 
to  the  image  of  himself;  he  demands  a  per- 
formance of  its  duties,  as  the  means  of 
bringing  glory  to  his  naine,  iiiid  j)aying  sub- 
mission to  his  authority.  And  none  will 
be  so  readily  disposed,  none  will  be  so  ef- 
fectually enabled  to  obey  the  wliole  law,  as 
those  Avho  see  themselves  made  righteous 
by  the  obedience  of  Christ ;  who  are  there- 
by delivered  from  that  tremendous  curse, 
denounced  on  all  ungodliness  and  t^iirij^bte- 
ousness  of  men. 

Aspasio  thus  exhorts  liis  fiieiid  :  "  Let 
me  desire  you  to  imagine,  rather  may  the 
blessed  Spirit  enable  you  to  believe,  tliat 
your  sins  are  expiated  through  the  death,  of 
Jesus  Christ ;  that  a  righteousness  is  given 
you.  by  virtue  of  which  you  may  have  free 
and  welcome  access  to  God." — "  This  is 
not  scriptural  language,"  says  Mr.  Wesley  • 
therefore  it  cannot  be  sound  doctrine,  is 
his  way  of  arguing.  Harmless  enough,  I 
must  own.  But  what  follows  is  not  quite 
so  modest.  "  I  would  simply  say ;"  and 
surely  what  I  would  say  must  be  unexcep- 
tionaf)ly  right.  This  is  the  conclusion  we 
iire  to  make  ;  otherwise  what  you  allege  is 
of  no  weight  at  all.  "  I  would  simply  say, 
by  him  we  have  access  to  the  Father." 
This  is  beyond  all  objection  proper ;  it  is 
taken  from  the  apostle,  and  it  includes  what 
Aspasio  expresses.  The  apostle's  language 
is  the  ingot  of  gold  ;  Aspasio's  sentiment  is 
a  thread  drawn,  or  a  leaf  beaten  from  it. 
Methinks,  before  I  dismiss  tliis  topic,  I 
would  desire  you  to  turn  back  a  moment, 
and  reconsider  what  you  have  aflirmed. 
Your  sins  are  expiated ; — is  not  this  scrip- 
tural language  V  What  else  meaneth  that 
c,\|)ression  of  the  apostle,  "  To  make  exj)ia- 
tioii  for  the  sins  of  the  |)C()j)le."    A  riglite- 


:•,  so  that  ntvertlielcsst.ic  works  ot  the  regenerate    o„s„i.ss    is    given    you; — IS    not     tii;s 
iv  be  of  thtHiiselvts  pcrlcct,  aiul.iii  ail  respects  nil- '        .    .        ,  ,■  ■,  .,     ,,  •■  i 

I'uiate,  eve.,  in  ilui  iifu,  scriptural  w-ny  U  speaking:'        11 


uy 


ih« 


540 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


receive  the  gift  of  righteousness,  shall  reign 
in  life."  "By  which  you  have  free  access 
to  God  •/' — is  not  this  both  the  dialect  and 
the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  "  We 
I'lave  access  with  contidence  (not  through 
our  punctual  performance  of  any  conditions, 
but)  through  the  faith  of  him  ;"  by  a  fidu- 
':ial  reliance  on  our  Lord's  most  precious 
-ibedience,  blood,  and  merit. 

"  I  have  seen  such  terrible  effects  of  this 
imscriptaral  way  of  speaking."  Here  I 
fancy  you  slip  into  a  little  mistake  :  you 
forget  the  distinction  between  the  use  and 
the  abuse  of  a  doctrine,  a  distinction  which 
you  can  easily  make  on  other  occasions. 
You  have  doubtless  seen  people,  who  use 
the  most  scriptural  way  of  speaking,  yet  act 
unsuitably  to  their  language  ;  what  reflec- 
tions arose  in  your  mind,  and  what  infer- 
ence did  you  draw  upon  observing  such  an 
inconsistency  ?  You  said  perhaps,  "  Their 
voice  is  Jacob's  voice,  but  their  hands  are 
the  hands  of  Esau.  Hence  it  appears,  that 
they  are  hypocrites  ;  they  pretend  one 
thing,  and  are  really  another."  Make  the 
same  reflection,  and  draw  the  same  infer- 
ence, when  you  hear  people  talking  of  "im- 
puted righteousness,"  yet  see  them  loosing 
the  reins  to  ungodliness  ;  then  you  will  be 
consistent  with  yourself,  and  with  truth  ; 
ascribing  the  terrible  effects,  not  to  the 
wholesome  doctrine  but  to  the  vitiated 
mind. 

"  Where  sin  abounded,"  &c.  Mr.  Wes- 
ley rejects  Aspasio's  interpretation  of  this 
text,  and  offers  one  of  his  own  ;  one  which 
he  had  given  us  a  little  while  ago,  and  now 
serves  a  second  time  without  any  consider- 
able variation  at  our  table.  I  shall  only 
refer  the  reader  to  page  521,  where  he  will 
find  this  text  considered,  and  Mr.  Wes- 
ley's exposition  canvassed. 

In  this  and  the  two  following  paragraphs 
you  find  fault  with  the  phrase  imputed ;  yet 
you  say,  "  Concerning  the  thing  there  is  no 
question."  You  would  discard  that  parti- 
cular form  of  expression  ;  yet  you  add,  "  as 
to  the  doctrine  we  are  agreed."  Then,  ac- 
cording to  your  own  confession,  all  these 
your  objections  are  a  mere  strife  of  words. 
Surely  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Wesley  should 
know  how  to  make  a  better  use  of  pen,  ink, 
and  paper,  than  to  litigate  about  letters  and 
syllables.  If  I  thought  myself  contending 
only  about  the  more  precisely  proper  form 
of  expressing  the  same  thing,  I  should  be 
ashamed  of  my  employ,  and  would  this  in- 
stant lay  down  my  pen  ;  whereas  I  appre- 
hend, that  we  are  not  agreed  as  to  doctrine, 
that  there  is  a  material  and  very  wide  dif- 
ference between  us.  My  opinion,  or  rather 
my  iaith  is,  that  our  Lord's  obedience  to 
the  moral  law,  in  professed  submission  to 
its  authority,  and  in  exact  conformity  to  its 
precepts — his   performance  of  all  holy  du- 


ties, and  his  exercise  of  all  heavenly  graces 
— that  all  this  is  a  most  essential  and  dis- 
tinguished part  of  his  merit ;  that  this  is  of 
higher  dignity  and  greater  value  than  the 
whole  world,  and  all  the  righteousness  in  it : 
That  the  divine  law  is  hereby  more  signally 
honoured,  than  it  could  have  been  honoiu:- 
ed  by  the  uninterrapted  obedience  of  Adam 
and  all  his  posterity  :  That  God's  justice, 
holiness,  truth,  receive  greater  glory  from 
these  unparalleled  acts  of  duty,  than  from 
all  the  services  of  angels  and  men  in  their 
several  wonderful  orders  :  That  this  active 
righteousness,  together  with  his  most  meri- 
torious sufferings,  are  the  ground  and  cause 
of  my  acceptance  with  God ;  are  the  veiy 
thing  which  procures  and  effects  my  justifi- 
cation ;  making  me  not  barely  acquitted 
from  guilt,  but  truly  righteous,  yea  perfect- 
ly righteous,  and  that  before  the  God  of  in- 
finite penetration  and  purity.  This  is  a 
view  of  the  doctrine  incomparably  magnifi- 
cent and  inexpressibly  comfortable.  If  you 
agree  with  your  friend  in  aU  these  particu- 
lars, speak  and  write  comformably  to  such 
agreement ;  then  you  will  never  again  hear 
from  him  in  this  manner,  neither  will  he 
receive  any  more  such  favoiu's  from  you  as 
the  letter  now  under  consideration ;  then 
we  shall  be  perfectly  joined  together  "  in 
the  same  mind,  and  in  the  same  judgment." 

Alas  !  this  union,  I  fear,  is  not  so  easily 
to  be  effected.  Mr.  Wesley  still  insists  and 
still  urges,  "  The  authority  of  our  church 
(which  Aspasio  pleads)  and  of  those  emi- 
nent divines  (whose  testimony  Aspasio  al- 
leges) does  not  touch  those  particular  forms 
of  expression."  Justification  through  im- 
puted righteousness,  or  being  made  righteous 
through  the  obedience  of  Christ,  I  suppose 
are  the  forms  of  expression  intended.  These, 
it  seems,  none  of  the  quotations  confirm, 
establish,  no,  nor  touch,  in  Mr.  Wesley's 
opinion  at  least ;  but  I  am  inclined  to  hope, 
that  the  generality  of  readers  will  be  of  a 
different  persuasion,  and  allow  that  the 
quotations  and  the  expressions  touch  and 
resemble  one  another,  as  much  as  the 
wings  of  the  cherubim  in  the  ancient  sanc- 
tuary:" 

"  Does  not  touch."  No!  not  yet?  Then 
we  must  have  recourse  to  some  other  autho- 
rity, and  such  a  one  I  have  at  hand  as  you 
would  hardly  ventm-e,  or  even  wish  to  gain- 
say, I  mean  the  authority  of  John  Wesley, 
M.  A.  who  declares,  in  his  Exposition  of 
the  New  Testament,  "  This  is  fully  con- 
sistent with  our  being  justified  by  the  im- 
putation of  the  righteousness  of  Christ." 
Now  I  shall  only  remonstrate  in  imitation 


♦  "  Both  the  cherubims  were  of  one  measure,  and 
one  size  ;  and  their  wings  touched  one  another  in  the 
midst  of  the  house."  1  Kings  vi.  25.  27. 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


541 


of  the  apostle  :  "  If  thou  thyself  usest  this 
phrase,  wliy  wouldest  thou  compel  others 
to  lay  it  aside  ?  Or,  why  art  tliou  displeased 
with  others  for  a  practice  which  thou  al- 
lowest  in  thyself  ?" 

Surely  you  will  not  say,  imputation  of 
righteousness  is  quite  a  diflerent  thing  from 
imputed  righteousness.  Does  not  the  for- 
mer evidently  include  the  latter?  Can  there 
be  a  proclamation  of  pardon,  without  a  par- 
don proclaimed  ?  Can  there  be  the  purchase 
of  an  estate,  without  an  estate  purchased  ? 
Or  the  imputation  of  righteousness,  without 
a  righteousness  imputed  ?  If  others  should 
affect  such  subtle  and  self-deluding  evasions, 
Mr.  Wesley  cannot,  Mr.  AVesley  must  not : 
he  has  precluded  himself;  nay,  he  has,  with 
his  own  mouth,  given  a  verdict  against  him- 
self. Is  it  not  recorded  in  those  lines  sub- 
joined to  your  character  of  a  Methodist  ? 

Let  faith  and  lore  combine 
To  guaril  your  valiant  breast ; 

The  plate  be  righteousness  divine, 
Imputed  and  imprest. 

This  imputed  righteousness  was  once  a  de- 
lightful theme  ;  your  song  in  the  house  of 
your  pilgrimage.  Why  is  it  now  a  burdensome 
stone  which  you  would  fain  shake  off  from 
yoin'self  and  others  ?  Are  you  become  rich 
in  yourself,  and  increased  with  goods  of  your 
own  acquiring  ?  We  know  full  well  for  what 
reason  the  phrase  and  the  doctrine  are  re- 
jected, exploded,  and  reproached  by  the 
Romish  superstition,  because  they  display 
in  the  brightest  light  the  beauty  of  free 
grace.  They  hold  the  door  against  all  kind 
of  lumian  merit ;  they  cut  off  every  the  most 
distant  pretension  for  glorying  in  man  ;  and 
refer  all  the  honour  of  salvation  to  Jesus 
Christ  idone-  Admit  justification  through 
the  imputed  righteousness  of  Christ,  and 
the  grand  bulwark,  or  the  main  pillar  of 
Pojjcry,  falls  to  the  ground  ;  while  a  solid 
foundation  is  laid  for  that  triumph  and  gra- 
titude, expressed  in  the  inspired  hymn, 
"  Let  us  be  glad  and  rejoice  (exceedingly, 
l)ut)  give  the  honour  (all  the  honour)  to 
him,"   Rev.  xix.  7. 

"  The  righteousness  of  God,  signifies  the 
righteousness  which  God-man  wrouglit  out." 
"  No ;"  says  Mr.  Wesley.  Your  reason. 
Sir,  for  this  negative  ?  A  child  may  deny ; 
a  man  of  judgment  will  disprove.  Does 
not  Mr.  Wesley  disprove,  when  he  adds, 
"  It  signifies  God's  method  of  justifying 
sinners  ?"  Just  as  forcibly  as  the  Jews  dis- 
proved the  Messiahshi])  of  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth, when  tlicy  cried.  Thou  the  Messiah  ! 
No  ;  thou  art  a  Samaritan  and  hast  a  devil. 
What  tliey  alleged,  wanted  a  proof  altoge- 
ther as  much  as  what  tliey  denied.  M'liat 
Sir.  Wesley  here  alleges,  is  a  threadbare 
objection,  already  considered,  and  already 
confuted.      Yet,  siijce  it  relates  to  a  point 


of  the  utmost  moment,  and  that  which  is 
the  main  hinge  of  our  controversy,  I  shall 
not  be  deemed  ofheious,  if,  as  the  shot  has 
been  once  again  discharged,  I  once  again 
lift  up  my  shield  against  it. 

"  The  righteousness  of  God,  signifies 
God's  method  of  justifying  sinners."  We 
have  already  shown  how  low  an  interpreta- 
tion this  is ;  how  insipid  in  itself,  and  in- 
compatible with  the  current  language  of 
Scripture.  On  the  other  hand,  how  sublime 
and  consolatoiy  is  the  sense  which  Aspasio 
gives  !  A  righteousness  which  God  himself 
has  provided  without  any  co-operation  from 
his  creatures.  The  righteousness  of  that 
most  exalted,  yet  most  condescending  Savi- 
oin-,  who  is  God  and  man  in  one,  Christ ; 
a  righteousness  dignified  with  all  the  per- 
fections of  the  Godhead,  therefore  worthy 
to  be  the  comfort,  the  joy,  the  never-ceasing 
boast  of  his  people  ;  and'  sufhcient,  infinite- 
ly sufficient,  to  save  even  the  most  vile,  the 
most  base,  the  most  desperately  ruined  sin- 
ners. 

This  is  a  righteousness,  as  much  superior 
to  all  human  attainments,  to  all  angelic 
accomplishments,  as  the  heaven  of  heavens 
is  higher  than  a  clod  of  the  valleys.  This 
is  a  righteousness  which  could  never  have 
entered  into  the  heart  of  man  or  angel  to 
conceive,  but  will  be  the  cause  of  their  ad- 
miration, and  the  subject  of  their  wonder, 
to  endless  ages.  This  sense  fully  accounts 
for  those  rapturous  expressions  of  the  pro- 
phet, when,  speaking  of  the  all-surpassing 
gift,  he  thus  addresses  his  fellow-sinners : 
"  Rejoice  greatly,  O  daughter  of  Sion  ; 
shout,  O  daughter  of  Jerusalem  ;  behold, 
thy  King  cometh  unto  thee.  He  is  righte- 
ous, and  having  salvation."  He  is  com- 
pletely righteous  in  his  nature,  has  fulfilled 
alljighteousness  in  his  life  and  death,  and 
has  thereby  obtained  for  thee  a  full  pardon, 
a  finished  salvation,  a  sure  title  to  eternal 
glory.  This  accounts  for  those  more  rap- 
turous expressions  of  the  sacred  writers, 
when  in  the  fervour  of  their  gratitude  they 
call  upon  the  whole  creation  to  celebrate  the 
goodness  of  the  incarnate  Jehovah  :  "  Sing, 
O  ye  heavens  ;  for  the  Loid  hath  done  it ; 
shout,  ye  lower  parts  of  the  earth ;  break 
forth  into  singing,  ye  mountains  ;  O  forest, 
and  every  tree  therein,  for  the  Lord,  hath 
(in  his  own  person,  by  his  own  obedience 
and  sufferings)  redeemed  Jacob,  and  glori- 
fied (not  hiunan  abilities,  not  hinnan  work.s, 
but)  lumself,  (and  his  own  righteousness),  in 
the  restoration  of  Israel."* 


•  Isa.  xliv.  2,'i.  Sliould  any  one  say,  is  this  the  sense 
of  the  Prophet  ?  I  ask,  is  not  this  the  fullest,  grand- 
est, divinesl  sense  ?  Is  it  not  a  sense  perfectly  true  .' 
Is  it  not  warranted  bv  tlie  gospel  revelation'?  Is  it 
no(  (IcuKiiided  by  that  declaraium  of  our  Saviour, 
"  I'lay  (tlie ancient  ijcripturcs)  testify  ofnier" 


54-2 


LETTERS  TO    THE 


In  sliort,  this  is  a  I'itrlitcoiisness  which 
2x:ilts  (lud's  justice  ;  which  inagiiities  the 
Jiiw  ;  lli^])lays  all  his  awful  and  amiable  at- 
tributes in  their  fullest  lustre.  To  contrive 
it,  was  unsearchable  wisdom  ;  to  bestow  it, 
is  invaluable  treasure.  It  answers  in  the 
completest  manner  all  the  grand  and  graci- 
ous purposes,  both  of  God's  glory  and  of 
man's  salvation.  True  gospel  this  !  Glad 
tidings  indeed  !  An  expedient  for  our  re- 
cov-M'y  greater  than  our  hearts  could  wsh. 
We  may  truly  say,  while  meditating  on  this 
gift  of  consummate  righteousness,  "  Where 
sin  huth  abounded,  grace  has  much  more 
abounded."  The  bricks  are  fallen  down, 
but  the  most  glorious  repairer  of  our  breach- 
es has  built  with  hewn  stone.  Well  might 
the  apostle,  having  this  supremely  excellent 
righteousness  in  his  view,  look  down  with 
tlie  most  sovereign  contempt  upon  every 
other  (cause  of)  conlidence,  upon  every 
otiier  object  of  trust,  and  reckon  them  dross 
ajid  dung.  Well  might  he  declare,  that  he 
would  never  be  ashamed  of  the  gospel,  in 
which  is  this  transcendently  noble  righte- 
ousness, in  all  its  magnificence,  riches,  and 
giory. 

Do  you  thuik  me  rather  too  warm  upon 
the  subject  ?  Let  me  once  again  remit  you 
to  St.  Chrysostom  ;  read  his  exposition  of 
that  charming  sentence,  "  The  righteous- 
ness of  God,"  Uoio;,  &c.  This  venerable 
father  of  the  church  speaks  the  thing  as  it 
is.  He  does  not  mingle  our  wine  with  wa- 
ter, but  gives  us  the  genuine  truth,  and  tri- 
umphs because  of  the  truth. 

The  doctrine  of  an  imputed  righteousness 
.seems  to  have  been  typically  taught,  by  the 
leinarkable  manner  of  clothing  our  first  pa- 
rents. All  they  could  do  for  their  own  re- 
covery, was  like  the  patched  and  beggarly 
mantle  of  iig-leaves;  this  they  relinquish, 
and  God  himself  furnishes  them  with  appa- 
rel :  animals  are  slain,  not  for  food,  but 
sa</ritice  ;  and  the  naked  criminals  are  ar- 
rayed with  the  skins  of  those  slaughtered 
Ix'asts.  The  victims  figured  the  expiation 
made  by  Christ's  death  ;  the  cluthiny  typified 
the  im])utation  of  his  righteousness.  "  That 
does  not  a])pear,"  cries:  Mr.  Wesley.  As- 
pasio  has  produced  an  authority  from  the 
famous  Milton.  I  could  reinforce  it  by 
another  from  the  elegant  Witsius.  If  you 
are  not  satisfied  with  either,  or  both  these 
testimonies,  1  will  give  you  a  reason  for  the 
sentmient.  The  victims  most  properly 
shadowed  forth  the  expiation  of  guilt  by  the 
Redeemer's  blood,  because  it  is  the  peculiar 
end  of  sacrifice  to  make  aionement  lor  sins ; 
the  clothing  most  pertinently  denoted  the 
Saviour's  righteousness,  which  is  described 
both  by  the  prophet  and  the  apostle  under 
this  \LTy  image.  "  He  hath  covered  me 
with  the  robe  of  righteousness,"  says  the  pro- 
phet Isaiah.    "  The  fine  linen  which  anays 


the  bride  of  the  Lamb,  is  the  perfect  righte* 
oiisness  of  the  saints,"*  says  the  beloved 
disciple.  "  It  is  like  a  royal  vesture,  or  a 
rich  siut  of  apparel,  upon  all  them  *hat  be- 
lieve," adds  the  apostle  Paul.  The  impar- 
tial reader,  I  promise  myself,  will  allow 
these  passages,  if  not  to  be  absolutely  de- 
cisive, yet  to  have  somewhat  more  weight 
than  that  atom  in  your  scale,  "  This  does 
not  appear."  As  for  sanctification,  tliis 
may  veiy  reasonably  rank  among  the  effects 
of  being  cleansed  by  the  blood,  and  adonied 
with  the  righteousness  of  Christ.  These 
blessings  produce  peace  of  conscience,  and 
love  of  God  ;  just  as  commodious  clothing 
produces  warmth,  and  promotes  health. 
And  what  is  love  of  God,  but  holiness  of 
heart  in  the  seed,  and  holiness  of  life  in 
the  fmit  ? 

As  this  (the  nature  of  true  holiness)  is  a 
matter  of  the  last  importance  ;  is  a  point  on 
which  multitudes,  I  fear,  are  mistaken ;  I 
mil  leave  it  uppermost  in  your  thoughts,  in 
the  reader's,  and  in  those  of,  Reverend  Sir, 
your,  &c. 


LETTER  X. 

Reverend  Sir, — We  are  now  entering 
upon  a  new  province.  Our  business  will 
be  chiefly  of  the  philological  kind.  We 
shall  treat  principally  of  words.  But  as 
they  are  the  words  which  the  Holy  Ghost 
teacheth,  they  are  like  the  combs  erected  in 
yonder  hive  :  Not  empty  syllables,  made 
only  for  sound  ;  but  rich  with  divine  sense, 
and  full  of  the  honey  of  the  gospel,  replete 
with  the  manna  of  heaven.  May  this  pen 
be  to  the  reader  like  Jonathan's  rod  ;  when 
dipt  in  the  delicious  juice,  it  enlightened 
his  eyes,  refreshed  his  spirits,  and  cheered 
his  heart  ! 

"  Almost  every  text,  yon  are  pleased  to 
afiirm,  quoted  in  this  and  the  following  let- 
ter, in  support  of  that  particular  form  of 
expression,  (imputed  righteousness),  is  dis- 
torted abovemeasure  from  the  plain,  obvi- 
ous meaning,  which  is  pointed  out  by  the 
context."  Let  us  examine  these  abused 
and  distorted  texts,  in  order  to  discover  froii) 
whence  the  misfortune  happened  ;  how  the 
violence  was  done ;  whether  by  Mr.  Wes- 
ley's pen,  or  by  Aspasio's  tongue. 

The  fii-st  is  from  the  book  of  Job  ;  which, 
as  it  is  greatly  venerable  for  its  antiquity, 
and  singularly  to  be  rcardod  for  its  inipor- 


*  Rev .  xix.  8.  T  ''  ^iKriitaf/.arx  being  in  the  plu- 
ral number,  1  tliiiik  may  be  translated,  J'lslitUi 
onmibus  numeHs  absulitta:  A  righteousness  of  all 
kinds,  and  all  degrees,  or  comprcliending  every  kind, 
and  defective  in  no  degree.  VVuu'd  y.ni  seethe  beauty 
of  this  tine  linen,  or  the  wardrobe  in  winch  it  is  de- 
i)i)siti.!l,  (.ijiisuit  Isa.  xlv.  Ji. 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


513 


tance,  I  shall  beg  leave  to  consider  at  large. !  is  the  consequence  of  tlie  Messiah's  rij^ht- 
A  sinner  is  described  lying  under  a  danger-  eousness  alone,  which  being  imputed  to  the 
ous  sickness,  and  Ijroiiglit  by  the  force  of,  sinner,  becomes,  for  the  blessed  purpose  of 
his  disease  to  the   brink  of  the   grave;  by  justification  unto  life, /«"«.* 


the  multitude  of  his  sins  to  the  very  bor- 
ders of  hell.  In  this  deplorable  condition, 
"  If  there  be  a  messenger  with  him,  an  in- 
terpreter, one  of  a  thousand,  to  show  unto 
man  his  uprightness  ;  then  he  is  gracious 
unto  him,  and  saith,  Deliver  him  from  going 
down  into  the  pit ;  I  have  found  a  ransom."* 
"  If  there  be  with  him  a  messenger"  of 
the  living  God,  a  faithful  ambassador  of 
Christ,  who  may  administer  spiritual  assis- 
tance to  the  poor  alHicted  creature. — "  An 
interpreter,"  who  knows  how  to  open  the 
Scriptures,  and  rightly  to  divide  the  word  of 
truth  ;  who  is  a  preacher  of  righteousness, 
and  can  properly  apply  the  word  of  grace. 
— This  is  not  every  one's  talent ;  nor  with- 
in the  compass  of  every  one's  abilities.  He 
is  one  of  a  thousand,  to  whom  God  hath 
given  the  tongue  of  the  learned  ;  enabling 
him  to  speak  a  word  in  season,  and  suit  the 
condition  of  each  respective  patient :  "  To 
shew  unto  man  his  uprightness ;"  that  is, 
says  Mr  Wesley,  "  to  convince  him  of 
Ciod's  justice,  in  so  punishing  him." 

But  is  this  the  instruction  which  such  a 
distressed  sufferer  wants  ?  Is  this  the  word 
of  reconciliation  which  every  true  minister 
ill  ancient  times  did  preach,  and  in  latertimes 
(loth  preach  ?  Or  is  there  any  need  of  a 
clioice  instructor  ?  One  skilled  in  the  coun- 
sel of  God,  to  teach  what  the  common  dic- 
tates of  reason  demonstrate  V  In  this  inter- 
jiretation,  I  can  neither  discern  the  truecritic, 
nor  the  clear  reasoner,  nor  the  sound  divine. 
"Not  the  true  critic:  He  would  acknow- 
ledge that  the  antecedent  in  this  clause  is 
not  God,  but  man.  To  man,  therefore,  if 
we  regard  grammatical  propriety,  the  pro- 
noun /lis  must  be  referred.  Not  the  clear 
reasoner ;  he  would  observe  the  emphasis  of 
the  word  tlien,  ver.  24',  implying  some  dis- 
covery, or  some  conviction,  in  consequence 
of  which  deliverance  from  death  ensues,  or 
with  which  it  is  connected.  Can  this  be  a 
discovery  or  a  conviction  of  God's  justice 
in  puiiibliing  him  ?  No,  verily.  Much  less 
therefore  can  I  discern  the  sound  divine. 
He  knows,  and  affirms  constantly,  that  this 


♦  Job.  xxxiii.  2.1,  24,  I  have  the  rather  chosen  to 
lay  this  whole  passage  1)efore  the  reader,  hecause  a 
new  interpretation  is  given  to  the  word  »/-'.v.s((/i,./'. 
Here  it  is  supposed  to  denote  a  faithful  and  skilful 
minister  of  the  gospel.  In  the  Dialogues  it  issup- 
posetl  to  describe  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  himself.  I 
scarcely  know  which  sense  to  prefer.  I'erhaps  both 
may  be  included,  theauthor  us  well  as  the  instrument, 
of  coinfrirt  to  the  sick  and  sinful  man.  However,  the 
point  ill  debate  between  Mr.  Wesley  and  Aspasio.  is 
not  allbited  by  the  ditlerent  application  of  this  word. 
His  u)'rightness,  according  to  either  exposition,  may 
signify  tiie  Messiah's  obedience  and  sullcrings;  mus! 
sij^nify  these  things;  provided  these  are  the  only  ju., 
titying  righteousness  of  a  sinner;  the  only  way  ol 
obtaining  the  divine  favour,  and  removing  every 
evil. 


So  that  Aspasio  seems  to  have  the  im- 
port of  language,  and  the  scope  of  the  con- 
text, both  on  his  side.  And  I  may  venture 
to  add,  he  has  the  consolatory  genius  of  the 
gospel  yet  more  strongly  pleading  for  his  in- 
terpretation. It  must  yield  but  cold  com- 
fort to  tell  a  poor  wretch,  confined  to  the 
bed  of  languishing,  and  alarmed  with  ap- 
prehensions of  eternal  vengeance — but  cold 
comfort  must  it  yield  to  tell  such  a  one, 
that  he  has  deserved  all  this  misery,  and  is 
justly  punished.  Whereas,  to  inform  him 
of  a  righteousness  sufficient  to  do  away  all 
his  transgressions  ;  sufficient  to  reconcile 
him  and  render  him  acceptable  even  to  the 
chastising  God;  sufficient  to  obtain  his  de- 
liverance, very  probably  from  death,  most 
assuredly  from  hell ;  this  is  a  reviving  re- 
port indeed.  This  will  make  the  bones 
which  sin  and  misery  had  broken,  to  re- 
joice. 

Then  the  sinner  and  the  sufferer,  atten- 
tive to  this  instruction,  and  .applying  this 
righteousness,  is  made  partaker  of  pardon. 
God,  the  sovereign  Lord  of  life  and  death, 
"  is  gracious  unto  him ;"  and  saith,  in  the 
greatness  of  his  strength,  as  well  as  in  the 
multitude  of  his  meieies,  "  deliver  him  from 
going  down  into  the  pit"  of  corruiition,  as  a 
pledge  of  his  deliverance  from  the  pit  of 
perdition.  For  "  I  have  found  a  lansom," 
satisfactory  to  my  law  and  to  uiy  justice. 
I  have  received  an  atonement  in  behalf  of 
this  once  obnoxious,  now  reconciled  trans- 
gressor. 

"  He  shall  receive  the  blessing  from  the 
Lord,  and  righteousness."  This  you  would 
reudt'r /loHticss ;  but  have  you  no  Hebrew 
lexicon  to  ii  form  you  that  the  word  which 
signifies  holiness  is  very  different  from  the 
expression  used  by  the  Psalmist  ?  He  says 
/zr/ili,  whereas  holiness  is  expressed  by  /ids/i. 
Besides,  have  you  not  observed  that  your 
interpretation  would  betray  the  Psalmist  in- 
to ai)parent  tautology  ?  He  had,  in  the  pre- 
ceding verses,  displayed  the  duties  of  prac- 
tical godliness,  and  the  graces  of  inherent 
holiness.  The  person  he  describes  posses- 
ses the  latter,  and  practises  the  former. 
To  say,  therefore,  he  shall  receive  holiness, 
when  lie  has  it  already,  would  not  suit  David's 
correctness,  however  it  may  suit  Mr.  Wes- 
ley's  fancy,  or  Mr.    Wesley's   design.     In 


"The  uprightness,  (says  Mr.  Caryl),  chiefly  in- 
ed  here,  is  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  in  and  tiy 
which  we  are  reconciled  to,  and  made  one  with  God. 


tended  here. 


We  never  sec  where  our  uprightness  is,  till  we  see 
there  is  nothing  that  makes  us  stand  upright  in  the 
coiiit  of  heaven,  liut  only  Christ  ovir  righteousnvss. 
Plus  is  the  great  duty  of  the  messengers  .and  inter- 
l>riieis  of  Christ,  to  declare  toman  this  righteousness 
foi  his  u)irighlness.  And  that  hence  it  is  (as  Kliliu 
speaks)  that  Cod  is  and  will  bo  gracious  unto  him." 


M4 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


this  clause,  the  evangelical  moralist  touches 
upon  another  particular,  which  enters  as  an 
essential  part,  into  the  character  of  a  godly 
man — even  "  the  righteousness  which  is  of 
faith  ;"  denoted  by  the  blessing  of  pardon, 
and  the  gift  of  righteousness.  Take  away 
this,  and  there  is  no  acceptance  with  God. 
Take  away  this,  and  the  gates,  mentioned 
in  the  close  of  the  psalm,  are  unalterably 
shut.  Unless  we  are  furnished  with  this 
passport,  the  everlasting  doors  never  lift  up 
their  heads.  If  you  exclude  this  peculiarity, 
the  description  is  very  imperfect,  and  the 
picture  extremely  deficient.  Whereas,  this 
adds  the  finishing  touch,  and  gives  true  per- 
fection  to  both. 

Several  passages  are  quoted  in  which  the 
word  tzrkh  occurs.  Sometimes  you  would 
have  it  signify  merer/  ,-  sometimes  justifica- 
tion; sometimes  spotless  holiness.  But  what 
proof  do  I  find  for  establishing  any  of  these 
significations,  which  differ  so  much  from 
one  another,  and  still  more  from  the  truth  ? 
Nothing  but  the  customary  argument,  "  So 
it  unquestionably  means."  Now  you  must 
unquestionably  know,  at  least  eveiy  novice 
in  the  language  knows,  that  the  genuine  and 
native  sense  of  tzrkh,  is  righteousness.  The 
word  expressive  of  mercy  is  hsd,  neither  in 
sense  nor  sound  alike.  As  to  justification, 
the  phrase  never  denotes  that  blessed  effect, 
but  the  divine  and  meritorious  cause  which 
produces  it. 

Shall  I,  in  this  inquiry,  appeal  to  the  best 
lexicons,  the  most  approved  translations,  or 
the  ablest  interpreters  ?  No,  I  will  refer  you 
to  the  decision  of  an  interpreter,  who  is  su- 
perior to  all  lexicons  and  all  translations  ;  I 
mean,  the  author  of  the  epistle  to  the  He- 
brews. He  translates  this  very  word,  as  it 
enters  into  the  name  of  Melcliisedek ;  and 
he  translates  it,  not  mercy,  not  justification, 
no,  nor  spotless  holiness,  but  righteousness ; 
even  that  righteousness  whose  fruit  is  peace 
with  God,  and  peace  in  our  own  conscience. 
Now,  will  you  play  the  critic  upon  this  in- 
spired writer,  and  say,  Unquestionably  it 
means,  not  what  the  apostle  has  determined, 
not  what  Aspasio,  supported  by  his  autho- 
lity,  has  adopted;  but  what  I  think  fit  to 
dictate  ? 

An  opposer  of  our  Lord's  imputed 
righteousness,  who  had  more  discretion  or 
more  subtilty  than  Mr.  Wesley,  would  have 
argued  in  this  manner  :  "  The  original 
word,  I  must  confess,  ought  to  be  translat- 
ed )-i</hteous7>ess ;  This  is  undoubtedly  the 
pvin(;ipal  and  leading  signification  of  the 
term  ;  but  then  the  circumstances  and  the 
context  oblige  us  to  understand  it  in  the 
notion  of  mercy,  of  spotless  holiness,*  or  of 
any  thing  else  that  serves  our  purpose." 
This  would  be  more  modest  and  more 
plausible,  though  not  move  just  and  solid 
tbiUi  your  confident  assertion. 


Suppose  we  should  admit  this  pretence, 
what  does  the  critic  gain  thereby  ?  Must 
he  not  have  recourse  to  that  noble  and 
comfortable  doctrine  for  which  we  plead  ? 
Let  the  word  be  translated  mercy.  Why  is 
mercy  shewn  to  sinners  ?  Is  it  not  on  ac- 
count of  the  righteousness  of  their  Surety  ? 
Let  it  be  translated  goodness.  WTierefore 
is  goodness  exercised  to  rebellious  men  ? 
Is  it  not  because  of  the  satisfaction  made 
by  their  crucified  Lord  ?  Render  it  what- 
ever you  please,  provided  it  conveys  the 
idea  of  favour  vouchsafed,  or  of  the  bene- 
fits conferred,  it  must  terminate,  still  ter- 
minate, in  that  grand  central  [  oint,  the  in- 
carnation, obedience,  and  death  of  Imman- 
uel. 

"  Sion  shall  be  redeemed  with  judgment'' 
— "  After  severe  punishment,"  you  say. 
The  Hebrew  preposition  signifying  ((//r/-,  is 
achr.  I  find  no  trace  of  any  such  word  in 
my  edition  of  the  Bible.  You  may  as  well 
render  or  interpret  the  passage,  in  the  miilst. 
And  then,  if  some  other  critic  should  be 
inclined  to  translate  it  before,  or  round  about, 
we  should  have  a  large  compass  of  mean- 
ing ;  but  where  would  precision  and  exact- 
ness be  found  ?  But  why  is  Sion  to  be  re- 
deemed after  severe  punishment  ?  Has  her 
punishment  any  influence  or  sway  in  the 
work  of  her  redemption  ?  Does  the  pun- 
ishment of  man  pave  the  way  for  the  sal- 
vation of  God  ?  Are  sinners  to  wait  for 
pardon  and  reconciliation,  till  they  have 
been  severely  punished?  This  is  very 
discouraging  doctrine  :  and,  blessed  be  God, 
it  is  absolutely  without  foundation.  The 
gospel  says,  "  To-day,  even  to-day,  (sin- 
ners,) if  ye  will  hear  his  voice,  ye  shall  en- 
ter into  rest."  You  need  not  tarry  till  you 
have  been  severely  chastised ;  but  this  in- 
stant believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  you 
shall  be  saved.  The  Lord  Jesus  has  been 
wounded  and  bruised  in  your  stead ;  he  has 
received  all  the  punishment  which  you  have 
deserved;  yea,  as  a  ransomer,  he  has  paid 
double ;  as  a  victim,  he  has  suffered  double 
for  all  your  sins,  Isa.  xl.  2.  Considering 
these  things,  I  am  still  disposed  to  abide  by 
Aspasio's  plain  and  obvious  interpretation  ; 
not  to  go  out  of  my  way  in  quest  of  the 
pricking  briar  and  grieving  thorn,  when  I 
meet  with  roses  and  lilies  in  the  common 
road. 

"  In  the  Lord  have  I  righteousness." 
This  wiU  not  satisfy  our  critic.  It  must 
be  through  the  Lord.  \VTiat  piddling  ciiti- 
cism  is  this,  even  in  case  it  was  true,  and 
answered  some  specious  end  !  But  it  is  by 
no  means  true.  Every  body  knows,  that 
the  prefix  b  signifies  in ;  and  every  body 
but  Mr.  Wesley  would  blush  to  assert  the 
contrary.  Neither  does  it  answer  any  val- 
uable end,  but  the  reverse.  It  degrades 
the  exulted  sense,  and  impoverishes  the  rich 


REV.  MR.   WESLEY. 


54.5 


blessing.  To  have  righteousness  in  the 
Lord,  is  abundantly  nioie  expressive  of 
glorious  grace,  than  barely  to  have  lighte- 
ousness  through  the  Lord.  Mordeeai  had 
riches  and  honours,  t/irouyh  Aliasuerus  and 
his  royal  favour;  Esther  had  riches  and 
honours,  in.  Ahasuerus,  as  her  royal  hus- 
band :  He  by  being  a  courtier,  she  by  be- 
ing a  consort,  lo  the  most  inagniiicent  mon- 
arch in  the  world. 

If  Mr.  Wesley  piddled  in  the  foregoing, 
he  flashes  in  the  following  passage.  He 
assures  us  that  (jhlmiin  tzli  means,  spotless 
holiness.  This  is  really  a  bold  stroke  in 
criticism.  But  like  many  other  bold  enter- 
prises, it  is  likely  to  prove,  not  a  birth,  but 
an  abortion.  Spotless  !  You  might  as  well 
have  rendered  it  toothless.  It  has  no  more 
to  do  with  the  idea  of  spotless,  than  it  has 
to  do  wiih  the  idea  of  an  ivory  tooth,  or  a 
polished  toothpick.  Literally  translated,  it 
signifies  ayes ;  and  may  denote  the  perpe- 
tuity of  this  righteousness,  and  of  its  bene- 
ficial effects.  It  was  from  the  beginning, 
it  is  at  this  day,  and  it  will  be  even  unto 
the  end,  mighty  to  save.  It  is  the  one  re- 
fuge and  hope  of  sinners,  in  every  age  of 
the  world,  and  under  every  dispensation  of 
religion.  Through  all  the  changes  of  time 
it  has  been,  and  through  the  unchangeable 
eternity  it  will  be,  their  chief  joy,  and  their 
crown  of  rejoicing. 

What  righteousness  shall  give  us  peace 
at  the  last  day,  inherent  or  imputed  ?  To 
this  question  As))asio  has  replied,  in  a  veiy 
explicit  manner,  by  presenting  us  with  a 
pertinent  extract  from  Bishop  Hall,  and 
by  commenting  upon  a  most  important  pro- 
phecy of  Isaiah.  In  both  which,  all  hu- 
man righteousness  is  set  aside,  and  our 
peace  is  derived  entirely  from  the  glorious 
Shiloh.*  From  him,  who  made  peace  by 
the  blood  of  his  cross,  and  whose  name  is 
the  Prince  of  Peace  :  Having  this  heaven- 
ly blessing,  and  the  right  of  conferring  it, 
as  the  peculiar  privilege,  or  unshared  pre- 
rogative, of  his  crown. 

Mr.  Wesley  is  pleased  to  deny  this  doc- 
trine, and  to  associate  with  the  Papists  in 
ascrihing  our  peace  (and  if  our  peace,  then 
our  sahation)  "  partly  to  inherent,  partly  to 
imputed  righteousness."  But  does  our 
church  do  so  ?  Hear  her  own  words  :  "  We 
do  not  presume  to  come  to  this  thy  table, 
()  inercifid  Lord,  tiusting  in  our  own 
righteousness  ;"  much  less  then  will  she 
dare  to  approach  his  judgment-seat  trusting 
in  any  such  thing.  Does  the  apostle  Paul 
do  so  ?  Hear  his  own  jjrotestation  :  "  That 
I  may  be  found  in  Christ,  not  having  mine 


.  •  Gen.  xlix.  10.  "  Shile,"— Schilo.  Nomen  Mes- 
wae  peculiare,  tranquillatorem  designans.— That  is 
the  Maker  of  f'eace,  and  the  Auihorof  Trannuillitv 
for  rebellious  and  wretched  men. 


own  righteousness,  which  is  of  the  law  ;" 
which  consists  of  my  personal  obedience, 
and  inherent  holiness  ;  but  having  tliis,  as 
the  source  of  my  pt  ace,  and  the  s  rciigth  of 
my  salvation,  "  the  righteousness  which  is 
of  God  by  faith  ;"  even  that  inconceivably 
precious  righteousness,  which  God  my  Sa- 
viour wrought,  and  which  a  sinner  by  faith 
receives.  Uid  iMr.  Wesley  himself  always 
do  so  ?  Let  those  _lines  bear  witness  ;  of 
which  neither  the  poet,  nor  the  divine,  need 
be  ashamed. 

My  righteous  servant  and  my  Son 
Shall  each  believing  sinner  clear, 

And  all  who  stoop  to  abjure  their  own, 
Shall  in  his  righteousness  appear. 

Will  that  righteousness  give  you  peace 
which  you  abjure?  Or  is  it  pious,  is  it 
prudent,  is  it  consistent,  to  trust  in  a  right- 
eousness which  you  absolutely  renounce  ? 
That  which  you  abjure  (a  stronger  word 
could  not  be  used,)  you  consider,  not  bare- 
ly as  despicable,  but  as  utterly  abominable  ; 
whereas,  that  which  gives  you  peace  at  the 
awful  tribunal,  must  not  only  be  excellent, 
but  incomparably  excellent  and  valuable. 
See,  my  friend,  how  "  thine  own  mouth 
condemneth  thee,  and  not  I ;  yea,  thin6 
own  lips  testify  against  thee,"  Job  xv.  6. 
O  !  that  you  may  return  to  your  first  senti- 
ments, and  to  your  first  love  !*  and  no  lon- 
ger expose  yourself  and  your  doctrine  to  be 
a  bye-word  among  the  peo})le.  If  you  per- 
sist in  such  palpable  inconsistencies,  who 
can  forbear  taking  up  that  taunting  pro- 
verb, "  A  double-minded  man  is  imstable 
in  all  his  ways." 

But  stop.  A  passage  from  St.  John  is 
introduced  to  support  this  opinion.  "  Christ 
died  for  us,  and  lives  in  lis,  that  we  may 
have  boldness  in  the  day  of  judgment." 
That  Christ  died  for  us,  and  lives  in  us,  I 
readily  acknowledge.  But  where  do  you 
find  any  of  the  apostles,  from  these  pre- 
mises, drawing  your  conclusion  ?  St.  John, 
whom  you  quote,  has  no  such  logic.  His 
inference  is  deduced  from  a  very  different 
topic.  You  give  us  a  fragment  of  the 
apostle's  words ;  why  do  not  you  exhibit 
the  golden  bowl  complete  ?  We  shall  then 
quickly  perceive,  that  it  contains  a  more 
sweet  and  salutary  draught  than  you  have 
provided  for  our  refreshment. 

<rapj»tiTiav  i^ufiiv  iv  t»  yi/^tg-jc   x^'ifi'Ait  ;   which 


•  That  Mr.  Wesley  may  not  be  ashamed  to  retract 
a  mistaken  sentiment,  I  will  lircak  the  ice  and  lead 
the  way.  In  a  copy  of  versM  which  I  tornierly  wrote, 
sacred  to  the  memory  of  a  generous  benefactor,  1  re- 
mem  tier  the  following  line.-.: 

Our  wants  relieved  by  thy  indulgent  care, 
Sliall  give  thee  courage  at  the  dreadful  bar. 
And  stud  thecrdwu  thou  shah  forever  wear. 
These  lines,  in  whatever  hands  thev  are  lodtred,  and 
whatever  eiseof  a  like  kind  may  have  dropt  from  m.y 
pen,  1   now  publicly  disclaim.     They  are  the  very 
reverse  of  my  ])resent  belief;    in  which  I  hope  t« 
persevere  so  long  as  I  haveanv  being. 
2  N 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


v/e  translate,  "  Herein  is  our  love  made 
perfect,  tliat  we  may  have  boldness  in  the 
(lay  of  judgment."  !•  John  iv.  17.  As  you 
are  fond  of  criticizing  upon  the  original 
Scriptures,  here  you  might  have  done  it 
justly  and  honourably.  Here  you  might 
have  altered  and  refoimed  our  translation  ; 
while  every  capable  judge  would  have  own- 
ed your  service  to  be  seasonable  and  im- 
portant. The  true  sense  of  (tii'  m^sjv  is 
with  us,  or  with  regard  to  us.  That  is, 
God's  love,  celebrated  with  inimitable  en- 
ergy and  beauty  in  the  preceding  verse, 
God's  love  towards  us  is  herein  made  per- 
fect ;  this  is  its  grand  and  crowning  effect, 
that  we  should  have,  not  a  bare  hope,  but 
an  unappalled  boldness  at  the  day  of  judg- 
ment. 

As  though  he  had  said,  God,  having  re- 
conciled us  to  himself  by  the  blood  of  his 
Son ;  having  renewed  us  after  his  own 
image,  by  his  blessed  Spirit  testifying  of 
Christ  in  our  hearts  ;  having  carried  us 
tlu-ough  all  the  dangers  of  life,  and  raised 
our  bodies  from  the  dust  of  death ;  he 
crowns  and  consummates  all  these  most 
indulgent  acts  of  his  grace,  by  giving  us  an 
undaunted  and  triumphant  confidence  at  the 
day  of  universal  audit  According  to  this 
interpretation,  your  own  text  is  against 
your  opinion,  and  refers  this  joyful  assur- 
ance, not  to  our  love  of  God.  but  to  hi's 
love  of  us  ;  not  to  inherent  righteousness, 
but  to  free  grace.* 

Aspasio  thus  translates  St.  Peter's  words  : 
"  Who  have  obtained  like  precious  faith  in 
the  righteousness  of  our  God  and  our  Sa- 
vioiu-  Jesus  Christ."  2  Pet.  i.  1.  Mr. 
Wesley  gives  us  to  understand,  that  this 
translation  is  wrong.  It  should  be  faith 
through — and  not  through  the  righteousness, 
but  through  tlie  mercy  of  our  God  and  Sa- 
viour. He  will  not  allow  the  Greek  pre- 
position IV  to  signify  in  ;  though  I  cair prove 
it  to  have  been  in  peaceable  possession  of 
this  signification  for  more  than  two  thou- 
sand years.  And  the  substantive  "^itKaiotuv/] 
must  not  denote  righteousness,  though  it 
pleads,  as  a  warrant  for.  this  weighty  sense, 
tlie  incontestable  authority  of  St.  Paul. 
Give  me  leave  to  tell  you.  Sir,  that  I  can 
produce  a  multitude  of  proofs  to  overthrow 
your  first  puny  alteration  ;  but  jiroduce,  if 
you  can,  a  single  passage  from  the  whole 
New  Testament'f  to  uphold  yotir  last  dar- 
ing innovation. 


♦  Should  it  be  said,  in  case  you  thus  interpret  the 
first  part  of  the  text,  how  will  it  connect  with  what 
follows  ?  Perfectly  well.  And  none  need  wonder  that 
we  shall  appear  with  such  boldness  at  his  coming! 
since  they  cannot  but  observe,  that  as  he  is,  so  are 
we  in  this  ivorM.  We  are  actuated  by  his  Spirit;  we 
resemble  him  in  all  our  conversation;  and  hence  it 
JB  evident  that  we  are  one  with  him. 

t  The  righteuusiipss  of  God,  the  righteousness  of 
God  our  Saviour,  never  denotes,  in  all  the  apostolical 
writings,  the  attribute  of  mercy.    If  it  does,  and  Mr. 


Here  I  cannot  bat  observe,  you  abandon 
your  favourite  commentator  Bengelius,  of 
whose  merit  and  excellence  you  speak  so 
higltly  and  so  justly.  He  says,  in  his 
notes  upon  the  place,  the  righteousness  of 
God  our  Saviour,  is  the  righteousness  of 
Christ ;  which  faith  apprehends,  and  which 
is  opposed  to  a  man's  own  righteousness. 
What  is  more  surprising,  you  depart  from 
your  own  comment ;  nay,  yoti  expressly 
contradict  your  own  comment.  To  edify 
the  readers  of  your  Exposition,  you  in- 
form and  assure  them,  that  this  phrase  sig- 
nifies "  both  the  active  and  the  passive 
■righteousness"  of  Christ.  To  gainsay  what 
Aspasio  has  advanced,  you  more  than  in- 
sinuate, that  it  signifies  no  such  thing,  but 
ordy  "  the  mercy  of  our  Lord."  Nay,  to 
corroborate  the  true  sense,  and  determine 
the  words  invariably  to  the  active  and  pas- 
sive righteousness  of  Christ,  you  add,  "  It 
is  this  alone  by  which  the  justice  of  God  is 
satisfied. "  If  then  Mr.  Wesley  would  re- 
concile what  he  writes  in  his  Expository 
Notes  with  what  he  writes  in  his  animad- 
versions on  Aspasio,  he  must  maintain,  that 
by  the  mercy  of  God  alone  his  justice  is 
satisfied. 

I  will  not  exclaim,  on  this  occasion,  as 
you  have  too  freely  and  not  very  genteelly 
done  in  your  letter  to  Mr.  Law,  "  Exquisite 
nonsense  !"*  But  this  I  may  venture  to 
say.  Contradiction,  didst  thou  ever  know 
so  trusty  a  friend,  or  so  faithful  a  devotee  ? 
Many  people  are  ready  enough  to  contradict 
others  :  But  it  seems  all  one  to  this  gentle- 
men, whether  it  be  another  or  himself,  so 
he  may  but  contradict. 

Permit  me,  for  a  moment,  seriously  to 
expostulate  the  case.  Why  should  you 
be  so  averse  to  the  righteousness  of  our 
God  and  Saviour  ?  Why  shoidd  you  ran- 
sack all  the  stores  of  your  learning,  and 
knowledge ;  nay,  descend  to  unwarrantable 
criticisms,  and  quite  luiworthy  your  superior 
abilities,  in  order  to  exclude  this  most  glo- 
rious truth  from  the  Bible  ;  in  order  to  ex- 
terminate this  most  precious  privilege  from 
the  church  ?  Attempt,  if  you  think  proper, 
to  pluck  the  sun  from  the  firmament,  to 
hide  the  light  from  our  eyes,  and  withdraw 
the  air  from  our  lungs  ;  but  do  not  attempt 
to  rob  us  of  what  is  far  more  valuable  than 
all  these  blessings,  by  depriving  us  of  this 
inestimable  treasure,  the  righteousness  of 
Christ :  which  being  a  righteousness,  im- 
macidate,  all-surpassing,  divine,  swallows 
up  and  anniiiilates  our  guilt ;  as  the  immense 
waves  of  the  ocean  vvoidd  swallow  up  and 
annihilate  the  drop  of  ink  that  now  hangs 


Weslev  can  make  it  appear,  I  vrill  confessmyself  mis- 
taken,'and  thank  him  for  correcting  my  error. 

*  Mr  Wesley,  in  the  abridgment  of  his  letter  to 
Mr.Law,  inserted  in  the  Preservative  from  Unsettled 
Notions,  has  expunged  this  and  some  other  indecenl- 
ly  harsh  expressions. 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


547 


on  the  point  of  my  pen  :  Which,  being  a 
righteousness  immaculate,  all-surpiissing, 
divine,  will  present  us  before  our  (Jod,  and 
before  his  angels  without  spot  and  blemish  ; 
in  robes  more  beautiful  than  the  colours  of 
that  resplendent  bow,  which  is  bended  on 
the  skirts  of  yonder  cloud. 

"  Therein  is  revealed  the  righteousness 
of  God." — "  God's  method  of  justifying 
sinners."  See  this  interpretation  examined, 
and  this  objection  answered  before. 

We  establish  the  law,  as  we  expect  no 
salvation  without  a  perfect  conformity  to 
it  ;•  namely,  by  Christ.  "  Is  not  this  a 
mere  quibble  ?"  says  Mr.  Wesley.  Quite 
the  reverse.  It  is  no  low  conceit,  but  an 
exceeding  serious  and  momentous  truth.  It 
is  no  play  upon  the  sound  of  words,  but  ex- 
presses a  doctrine  of  great  solidity,  and  of 
the  last  importance.  Tell  me,  ye  that  cavil 
at  this  method  of  establishing  the  law,  by 
what  other  expedient  you  propose  to  effect 
it  ?  By  your  past  conduct  ?  That,  you  must 
acknowledge,  has  been  more  or  less  a  vio- 
lation of  the  law.  By  your  present  obedi- 
ence ?  That,  you  cannot  deny,  falls  short  of 
the  sublime  requirements  of  the  law.  By 
your  future  behaviour?  Well,  I  will  sup- 
pose that,  in  some  future  period,  you  reach 
the  very  summit  of  perfection.  Still  the 
law  will  have  much  to  complain  of,  and 
will  lay  much  to  your  charge.  You  have 
not  magnitied  it  by  a  holy  nature.  You 
have  not  presented  it  with  the  consummate 
righteousness  of  your  whole  heart,  and  your 
whole  conversation.  You  have  not  begun, 
from  the  first  moment  of  your  existence, 
and  persevered  in  this  perfect  conformity 
to  the  last  breath  you  drew.  In  this  case, 
either  the  law  must  recede  from  its  most 
righteous  demands,  and  the  immutable  God 
must  compromise  matters  with  his  crea- 
tures, or  else  you  can  never  enter  into  life. 
Ifnless  you  renounce  all  such  impotent  at- 
tempts and  arrogant  conceits,  talk  no  more 
of  "  practising  it  in  its  full  extent ;"  but 
betake  yourself  to  Christ,  wlio  is  tlie  end 
of  the  law,-|-  for  accomi)lisliing  tliat  right- 
eousness which  its  iirecepts  demand,  but 
which  the  frailty  of  man  cannot  perform. 

Thus  we  establish  the  law,  as  the  con- 
summate standard  of  righteousness  ;  as  the 
original  condition  of  life  ;  and  as  that  most 
venerable  system,  with  which,  as  well  as 
with  its  divine  Author,  there  is  no  variable- 
ness or  shadow  of  changing.    And  does  thi^ 


*  The  reader  is  desired  to  peruse  Aspasio's  own 
words,  Lett.  v.  There  his  sentiments  are  more 
fully  explamed;  but  the  passage  is  not  transcril)- 
ed,  on  purpose  to  avoid  increasing  the  size  of  this 
piece,  which  alr-ady  swells  to  a  larger  bulk  than  the 
writer  proposed. 

t  Rom.x.8.  Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law.  How  > 
By  bringing  in  that  righteousness,  and  giviu"  that 
life,  which  the  law  shows,  and  shows  the  wa'it  of, 
but  neither  itself  gives,  nor  can  enable  us  to  acqune. 


method  of  securing  the  dignity  of  the  law, 
hinder  or  discourage  a  dutiful  observance  of 
its  commands?  If  not,  your  objection  de- 
rived from  that  well-known  text,  "  Without 
holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord, "  is 

Telum  imbelle  sine  ictu. 

If  this  be  the  most  rational  and  the  most 
sure  way  of  producing  the  love  of  God, 
which  is  the  very  essence  of  true  holiness, 
then  your  objection  recoils,  and  falls  upon 
the  head  of  your  owti  cause.  Can  there  be 
a  more  powerful,  a  more  endearing  motive 
to  love  the  Lord  my  God,  than  a  persuasion 
of  his  ineffable  love  to  me,  in  giving  his  dear 
Son,  so  to  fiUfil,  so  to  satisfy  the  law  on 
my  behalf,  that  I  am  thereby  delivered  froui 
all  my  offences ;  am  vested  with  a  perfect 
righteousness  ;  and,  on  the  foot  of  justice, 
as  well  as  mercy,  stand  entitled  to  eternal 
life? 

"  Though  I  believe  that  Christ  hath 
lived  and  died  for  me,  j-et  I  would  speak 
very  tenderly  and  sparingly  of  the  former." 
How  widely  then  does  your  practice  differ 
from  the  apostle's  ?  We  believe,  and  there- 
fore have  spoken,  confidently  and  incessant- 
ly, in  season  and  out  of  season.  No,  says 
Mr.  Wesley,  "  We  believe,  and  therefore 
we  speak  tenderly  and  sparingly."  If  3-011 
believe,  that  Christ  has  lived  for  you,  and 
fulfilled  all  righteousness  in  your  stead, 
surely  you  should  give  him  the  honour  of 
this  wonderful  loving-kindness,  and  both 
preach,  and  talk,  and  sing  of  his  goodness. 
It  should  be  as  a  fire  shut  up  in  your  bones  ; 
and  you  should  speak,  that  yourself  may  be 
refreshed,  and  your  Lord  may  be  glorified. 

But  you  "fear  dreadful  consequences." 
What !  where  the  divine  holiness  fears 
none  ?  and  the  divhie  prescience  sees  none? 
Are  you  then  more  deep-sighted  to  discern 
tliese  distant  evils  than  ommscience  ?  Me- 
thinks,  I  would  not  have  spoken  thus,  un- 
less I  had  been  wiser  than  the  Spirit  of  in- 
spiration. Do  you  not,  by  cherishing  and 
avowing  such  apprehensions,  find  fault  with 
the  glorious  gospel  in  which  this  righteous- 
ness is  revealed  ?  revealed  as  its  most  emi- 
nent article,  and  most  distinguishing  pecu- 
liarity ?  A  doctrine  taught,  and  a  blessing 
granted,  and  both  from  heaven  !  yet  not  fit 
to  be  displayed,  incidcated,  and  insisted  on  ! 
What  a  contemptible  idea  must  this  give  of 
our  holy  religion,  and  of  our  holy  revelation, 
to  an  inquiring  infidel  ! 

"  I  would  never  speak  of  them  (the  ac- 
tive and  passive  righteousness  of  Christ) 
separately."  This  insinuates,  what  Aspa- 
sio  disavows  ;  and  what  you  cannot  hint, 
without  apparent  injustice  to  his  sentiments. 
I'  I  would  speak  of  it  (the  former)  as  spar- 
ingly as  do  the  Scriptures."  Here  you  ap- 
peal to  those  writings,  which  must  either 
condemn  your  conduct  or  their  own  propri- 
ety.  At  your  leisure  consider  the  case,  and 


548- 


LETTERS  TO  THE  '■ 


you  will  find  the  dilemma  unavoidable.  In 
the  mean  time,  be  so  candid  as  to  read  a 
short  note  inserted  in  Theron  and  Aspasio, 
where  you  may  see,  that  the  Scriptures  are 
far  from  speaking  sparingly  on  this  point. 
It  is  their  favourite  and  fundamental  topic  . 
It  runs  through  them  as  a  golden  woof 
through  a  warp  of  silver ;  or  as  the  vital 
blood  through  the  animal  structure.  And 
whatever  you,  Sir,  may  be  inclined  to  do,  I 
hope  no  lover  of  Christ  will  be  persuaded 
to  secrete  this  invaluable  truth  of  the  gos- 
pel. Shall  such  a  truth  skulk  in  a  corner, 
or  speak  only  in  a  whisper  ?  No  ;  let  us  pro- 
claim it  upon  the  house  tops,  and  wish  that 
the  joyful  sound  may  reach  the  very  ends  of 
the  earth. 

The  gift  of  righteousness  must  signify  a 
righteousness  not  their  own.  Aspasio's 
expression  is,  not  originally  their  own.  Ori- 
ginally, he  said,  with  a  view  of  hinting,  that 
in  some  other  sense,  it  was  and  is  their 
own  ;  their  own,  by  way  of  imputation, 
though  not  by  way  of  operation.  This  word, 
in  order  to  make  the  sentence  appear  ab- 
surd, Mr.  Wesley  drops.  But  whether  such 
a  practice  be  free  from  guile,  or  what  the 
apostle  calls  cunning  craftiness,  let  the  im- 
partial reader  judge. 

Aspasio's  interpretation  of  the  phrase, 
authenticated  by  the  language  of  Scripture, 
Mr.  Wesley  sets  aside ;  and  introduces 
another,  whose  only  recommendation  to  the 
public  is,  "  I  come  from  Mr.  Wesley's 
pen."  Do  you  so?  Then  Ave  will  allow 
you  all  proper  regard.  But,  because  you 
come  from  Mr.  Wesley's  pen,  must  you 
therefore  displace  propriety  and  supplant 
truth  ?  make  an  insi)ired  writer  argue  in- 
correctly, nay,  jar  with  himself?  This  is 
rather  too  much  for  you  to  assume,  even 
though  you  came  recommended  by  a  greater 
name. 

"  The  gift  of  righteousness  signifies  the 
righteousness  or  holiness  which  God  gives 
to  and  works  in  them."  Let  us  observe 
the  apostle's  aim,  and  the  process  of  his  rea- 
soning. His  aim  is  to  illustrate  the  man- 
ner of  our  justification.  For  this  purpose 
he  forms  a  contrast  between  Adam's  trans- 
gression and  Christ's  obedience.  Adam's 
transgression,  which  he  himself  committed, 
ruins  all  that  spring  from  him.  This  is  the 
leading  proposition.  Now,  if  the  sacred 
disputant  knows  how  to  reason  accurately, 
or  to  draw  a  conclusion  justly,  the  conclu- 
sion must  be  to  this  effect :  So  likewise 
Christ's  obedience,  which  he  himself  per- 
formed, recovers  all  who  believe  in  him. 
Through  Adam's  disobedience,  without  the 
consideration  of  their  own  misdoings,  the 
former  are  made  sinners  ;  through  Christ's 
obedience,  without  the  consideration  of 
their  own  good  qualities,  the  latter  are  made 
lighteous.     Though  I  am  far,  very  far  from 


disesteeming  the  holiness  wrought  in  'tis, : 
yet  what  place  has  it  here  ?  In  the  article  of  ■ 
justification,  it  is  utterly  excluded.  It  has 
no  share  in  the  accomplishment  of  that  great 
work  ;  and  every  attentive  reader  will  see, 
that  it  enters  not  into  the  apostle's  present 
argumentation.  Besides;  if  the  gift  of 
righteousness  signifies  the  holiness  wrought 
in  us,  then  we  shall  reign  in  life,  by  mean* 
of  a  personal,  not  of  an  imputed  righteous- 
ness ;  by  means  of  an  imperfect,  not  of  a 
complete  obedience.  Then  all  the  people 
of  God  will  be  justified,  not  by  the  obedi- 
ence of  one,  but  each  by  his  own,  severally 
and  distinctly :  which  is  contrary,  not  only 
to  a  single,  but  to  many  express  passages  of 
this  very  chapter. 

I  said,  "  Every  attentive  reader  will  see." 
Some,  perhaps,  may  say  within  themselves. 
Is  not  this  spoken  in  Mr.  Wesley's  manner  ? 
the  loose  presumptive  way  of  arguing  which 
you  blame  in  him  ?  To  which  it  is  answer- 
ed, I  am  far  from  resting  my  point  upon 
this  presumptive  proof.  It  is  not  the  pillar 
which  supports  my  cause,  but  on\y  a  festoon 
which  adorns  my  pillar.  However,  was  it 
accompanied  with  no  proofs  satisfactory  to 
others,  it  must  to  Mr.  Wesley,  whom  I  sup- 
pose one  of  the  attentive  readers,  have  the 
force  of  demonstration.  Hear  his  own 
words,  in  his  comment  on  this  very  portion 
of  Scripture  :  "  As  the  sin  of  Adam,  with- 
out the  sins  which  we  afterwards  committed, 
brought  us  death  ;  so  the  righteousness  of 
Christ,  without  the  good  works  which  we 
afterwards  perform,  brings  us  life."*  It  is 
a  righteousness,  without  the  good  works, 
which  we  afterwards  perform  ;  therefore,  it 
is  a  righteousness  not  originally  our  own, 
but  another's.  It  is  not  that  which  God 
works  in  us,  but  prior  to  it,  and  indepen- 
dent on  it.  If  Aspasio  had  suborned  an 
evidence,  and  put  words  into  his  mouth,  he 
could  not  have  devised  a  more  direct  and 
full  confirmation  of  his  doctrine  than  this 
volunteer  witness  deposeth.  I  thank  you. 
Sir,  for  giving  me  so  valuable  an  explana- 
tion of  the  gift  of  righteousness,  and  its 
blessed  effects.  I  thank  you  likewise,  for 
furnishing  Aspasio  with  so  incontestable  a 
vindication  against  the  objections  of  the  au- 
thor of  the  Preservative. 

The  obedience  of  one,  so  highly  extolled 
by  the  apostle,  is  Christ's  actual  perform- 
ance of  the  whole  law. — This  you  deny. 
I  wish  you  had  favoured  me  with  your  rea- 
sons for  this  denial.  But  my  wishes  of 
this  kind  are  constantly  disappointed. 
However,  I  will  follow  our  Lord's  direc- 
tion, and  do  unto  others  even  as  I  would 


•  Here  Mr.  Wesley  speaks  in  perfect  agreement  with 
St.  Chrysostom:  O  Xjirof  Ttif  f?  au-rn,  xairttyi 


REV.  MR.   AVESLEY. 


549 


they  should  do  unto  me.  1  will  give  you  a 
reason  for  my  own  or  Aspasio's  interpreta- 
tion ;  The  apostle  is  treating  of  Adam's 
Hctual  breach  of  the  law.  If  so,  the  pro- 
per antithesis  must  be  Christ's  actual  per- 
formance of  the  law.  In  the  following 
verses  he  explains  himself.  Let  them  be 
the  comment  on  our  text,  and  the  gift  of 
righteousness  means,  "  The  righteousness 
of  one ;  the  obedience  of  one."  This 
righteousness  we  have  in  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord  ;  all  other  is  inherent  in  ourselves. 
Justification  by  this  righteousness  is  alone 
consistent  with  free  grace  ;  justification  by 
any  other,  is  (inconsistent  with  it,  is)  sub- 
versive of  it. 

Farther  ;  As  you  are  a  critic  in  the 
Greek,  you  need  not  be  informed  that  St. 
Paul  uses  three  several  words,  iiKaoi/Ao.,  S/>c- 
iiouLt,-,  vTrttt-it).  Now,  can  you  shew  any 
passages  in  which  all  these  words  are  used 
to  signify  sufferings  or  death  ?  Nay,  can 
you  shew  me  any  single  passage  in  which  any 
one  of  them  occurs  in  this  signification  ? 
If  you  cannot,  what  shadow  of  authority 
have  you  for  putting  this  construction  upon 
the  words  in  the  present  case  ?  What  sha- 
dow of  authority  for  saying,  with  that  unli- 
mited confidence,  Christ's  "  dying  for  man, 
is  certainly  the  chief  part,  if  not  the  whole, 
which  is  meant  by  that  expression  ?"*  If 
you  attend  to  the  tenor  of  the  apostle's  ar- 
gument, or  inquire  into  the  import  of  his 
language,  perhaps  you  will  see  cause,  not 
only  to  alter,  but  even  to  reverse  this  your 
positive  assertion. 

Let  me  subjoin  an  extract  from  St.  Chry- 
sostom,  suited  to  this  and  the  preceding 
paragraph,  and  worthy  of  our  serious  consi- 
deration ;  from  which  it  will  appear  that 
Aspasio  is  l)y  no  means  singular  in  his  sen- 
timents, but  speaks  the  doctrine  of  the  an- 
cient church.  "  Adam  is  a  type  of  Christ. 
How?  In  this  respect:  As  the  former  was 
the  cause  of  death  to  ail  his  descendants, 
thougli  they  did  not  (like  him)  eat  of  the 
forbidden  fruit ;  so  Christ  was  the  cause, 
(■!r^o^tw,)f  author,  procurer  of  righteousness 
to  ail  his  seed,  though  they  have  not  (like 
him)  been  personabiy  obedieiU;  even  of  that 
righteousness  which   he  finished  for  us  on 


•  The  obedience  of  one,  St.  Chrysostom  expounds 
by  ev>«  y.aTcfi6u(ravTos.  Would  Mr.  Wesley  ven- 
ture to  afKrni,  tliat  dyiDg  well,  not  doing  tccll,  is 
certainly  the  chief  thing  signified  in  xare^^utrav- 
^'t  ■  A  pretty  daring  criticism  this  I  Dees  not  the 
Word  rather  sifjnify,  a  course  of  well  doing  ;  termin- 
ated (if  you  pie.Tse)  in,  not  constituted  by,  a  corres- 
pondent death  '. 

t  Il^o^-vo;,  an  expressiTt  word  !  It  seems  to 
denote  such  a  procuring  of  righteousness  for  sinners, 
as  corresponds  with  the  provision  made  by  some  hos- 
pitable householder  for  the  strangers  who  are  come 
U>  be  his  guests;  in  which  they  bear  no  i)art  either 


of  the  expense  or  of  the  trouble. 


11 


i'i* 


TKTc,  "  llujus  rei  sum  tibi  auclor:   hanc  rem  tibi 
romparo."  Steph.  Thesaur.  in  mc 


the  cross.  For  this  reason,  '  to  ascertain 
and  appropriate  the  honour  of  this  righte- 
ousness to  Christ — as  a  work  not  wrought 
by  us,  nor  wrought  in  us,  but  completed  for 
us  on  the  cursed  tree,' — he  insists  and  dwells 
upon  that  very  observable  circumstance, 
one  ;  He  iterates  and  reiterates  the  empha- 
tical  word  one :  He  introduces  it  again  and 
again,  and  can  hardly  prevail  upon  himself 
to  discontinue  the  repetition.  As  by  one 
man  sin  entered  into  the  world ;  through 
the  offence  of  one  many  be  dead  ;  not  as  it 
was  by  one  that  sinned,  so  is  the  free  gift  ; 
the  judgment  vras  by  one  to  condemnation  ; 
by  one  man's  offence  death  reigned  by  one  ,- 
as  by  the  offence  of  one,  judgment  came 
upon  all  men  unto  condemnation  ;  as  by 
the  disobedience  of  one,  many  were  made 
sinners.  Thus  does  the  apostle  again  and 
again  introduce  the  word  one,  and  can 
hardly  prevail  on  himself  to  discontinue  the 
repetition  ;  that  if  a  Jew  should  ask,  How 
can  the  world  be  saved  by  the  well-doing  of 
one,  or  by  the  obedience  of  Christ?  you 
may  be  able  to  reply  on  his  own  principles, 
How  could  the  world  be  condemned  by 
the  evil-doing  of  one,  or  by  the  disobedi 
ence  of  Adam  ?"• 

"  That  the  righteousness  of  the  law  might 
be  fulfilled  in  us."  That  is,  by  our  repre- 
sentative, and  in  our  nature.  "  Amazing  !" 
cries  Mr.  Wesley.  But  why  amazing  ?  Is 
not  this  the  common  import  of  the  most 
common  actions?  Do  not  you  and  I  make 
laws  in  and  by  our  representatives  in  parlia- 
ment ?  May  not  every  debtor,  when  his 
surety  has  given  full  satisfaction  to  the  cre- 
ditor, say,  I  have  satisfied,  I  have  paid,  in 
my  bondsman  ? 

To  invalidate  this  interpretation,  you  al- 
lege that  the  apostle  "  is  not  speaking  here 
of  the  cause  of  our  justification,  but  the 
fruits  of  it."  Among  all  the  excellent  things 
which  in  your  studies  and  in  your  travels 
you  have  learned,  have  you  never  learned 
that  between  saying  and  proving  there  is  a 
wide  difference?  Never  did  I  meet  with  a 
person  who  seemed  so  totally  ignorant  of  this 
very  obvious  truth.  Well,  we  must  take 
your  word  without  proof;  but  I  hope  not 
without  examination.  "  The  apostle  is 
speaking  of  the  fruit."  Is  then  the  fulfilling 
of  the  law  the  fruit  of  justification  ?  This 
is  the  first  time,  I  apprehend,  that  any  such 
thing  was  deliberately  affirmed.  It  is  the 
caui-e,  the  adequate,  the  immediate,  and  in- 
deed the  only  proper  cause  of  justification. 
But  the  fruits  are,  peace  of  conscience,  and 
love  of  God;  ihe  sj)irit  of  adoption,  and  the 
hope  of  glory. 

.Show  me.  Sir,  where  lixaiufia.,  in  con- 
jiniction  \>ith  ts  -/u/j.ii,  signifies  the  fruits  of 
justification,  and  not  those  demands  of  the 

♦  ('hry«06t.  vol.  iii.  p.  71,  72.  Edit  SavU. 


550 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


law  which  must  necessarily  be  satisfied  be- 
fore justification  can  take  place.  Especially 
when  that  phrase  is  corroborated  by  that 
other  strong  expression,  !tx»^o^»  ;  an  ex- 
pression used  by  our  Lord,  concerning  him- 
self, and  the  design  of  his  coming  into  the 
world  :  Applicable  to  him  alone  who  is  the 
end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  ;  and  de- 
scriptive of  that  obedience  by  which  alone 
the  law  is  magnified. 

This  sense,  says  Aspasio,  agrees  with  the 
tenor  of  the  apostle's  arguing.  "  Not  here," 
replies  Mr.  Wesley.  Let  us  then  consider 
the  aim,  and  trace  the  progress  of  the  apos- 
tle's reasoning.  He  is  clearing  up  and  con- 
firming that  great  privilege  of  the  gospel, 
"  There  is  no  condemnation  to  them  that 
are  in  Jesus  Christ."  This,  you  will  allow, 
is  not  the  fruit  of  justification,  but  justifica- 
tion itself.  As  this  wants  no  argument  to 
confirm  it,  let  us  proceed  in  our  attention  to 
the  sacred  writer.  There  is  no  condemna- 
tion to  those  who  are  true  believers  in  Jesus 
Christ;  who,  in  consequence  of  this  belief, 
walk  not  after  the  flesh,  but  after  the  Spi- 
rit. 

Perhaps,  some  man  will  say,  How  can 
this  be  ?  since  even  true  believers  fall  short : 
Nay,  they  offend  ;  and  therefore  must  be 
liable  to  the  curse.  For  this  reason,  they 
are  delivered  from  condemnation  ;  because 
"  the  law  of  the  Spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Je- 
sus," that  new  dispensation  introduced  in 
the  room  of  the  old  law,  promises  the  pri- 
vilege of  pardon,  and  the  gift  of  the  Spirit, 
in  which  things  the  true  life  and  real  happi- 
ness of  mankind  consist :  Promises  both 
freely,  without  any  works,  purely  on  account 
of  the  righteousness  which  is  in  Christ  Je- 
sus. And  hereby  this  new,  gracious,  bless- 
ed dispensation  "  hath  made  me  free  from 
the  law,"  which  convinced  me  of  sin,  con- 
demned me  for  sin,  and  bound  me  over  un- 
to death. 

These  are  glad  tidings,  doubtless.  But 
are  they  not  attended  with  two  inconveni- 
ences? Does  not  this  procedure  deprive 
the  law  of  its  due  honour,  and  screen  the 
sinner  from  his  deserved  punishment  ?  By 
no  means.  "  For  that  which  was  an  abso- 
lute impossibility,  on  account  of  the"  strict- 
ness of  the  "  law,  and  the  weakness  of  hu- 
man nature,"  God,  to  whom  nothing  is  im- 
possible, has  most  wonderfully  accomplished, 
by  "  sending  his  own  Son  in  the  likeness  of 
sinful  flesh,"  to  live  among  sinners,  to  come 
under  their  obligations,  and  perform  the 
obedience  demanded  from  them.  By  send- 
ing him  also  to  be  a  sacrifice  for  sin ;  to  be 
charged  with  its  guilt,  and  undergo  its  pun- 
ishment- By  this  grand  expedient,  he  has 
provided  for  the  honour  and  perfect  accom- 
plishment of  the  law.  He  has  also  com- 
demned  and  punished  sin  with  the  utmost 
severity.      And  both  these   in  the  flesh ;  in 


that  very  nature  which  was  guilty,  disabled, 
ruined. 

Should  you  further  ask,  Wherefore  is  all 
this  ?  To  lay  the  surest  foundation,  or  make 
the  most  complete  provision  for  our  justifi- 
cation. "  That  the  righteousness  of  the 
law,  (both  its  righteous  sentence  and  its 
righteous  precepts,  whatever  either  of  suf- 
fering or  of  obedience  it  required  from 
transgressors,  being  fulfilled  in  Christ)  might 
be  fulfilled  in  us."  As  it  was  all  done  in 
our  name  ;  and  as  he  and  we  are  one.  One 
in  civil  estimation,  for  he  is  our  representa- 
tive ;  one  in  legal  estimation,  for  he  is  our 
surety ;  one  in  social  estimation,  for  he  is 
our  bridegroom.  For  which  cause  his  righ- 
teous acts  are  ours,  and  his  atoning  death  is 
ours. 

There  was  a  time  when  you  embraced 
these  sentiments  ;  when  you  had  such  a 
view  of  things  ;  when  such  language  came 
out  of  your  mouth  ;  which  even  now  stands 
upon  record,  under  your  own  hand.  See 
your  Principles  of  a  Methodist.  If  you 
have  forgotten  them,  permit  me  to  remind 
you  of  them.  "  Christ  (you  say,)  is  now 
the  righteousness  of  all  them  that  truly  be- 
lieve in  liim.  He  for  them  paid  the  ransom 
by  his  death  ;  he  for  them  fulfilled  the  law 
in  his  life.  So  that  now,  in  him,  and  by 
him,  every  believer  may  be  called  a  fulfiller 
of  the  law."  Since  you  pronounce  m^  sense 
of  the  apostle's  words  unnatural  ;  I  adopt, 
I  espouse  yours."  And  so  much  the  more 
readily,  as  it  will  puzzle  sagacity  itself  to 
discern  a  difference  between  them. 

"  I  totally  deny  the  criticism  on  ^ixaiofwti 
and  iucaiwfiu."  Then  be  so  good  as  to  sug- 
gest a  better.  Or,  if  this  should  be  some- 
what difficult,  at  least  favour  us  with  a  rea- 
son for  this  your  total  denial.  Not  a  word 
of  either.  Strange  !  that  a  man  of  ordina- 
ry discernment  should  offer  to  obtrude  upon 
the  public  such  a  multitude  of  naked,  un- 
supported, magisterial  assertions  !  Should 
ever  be  able  to  persuade  himself  that  a  po- 
sitive air  will  pass  for  demonstration,  or 
supply  the  place  of  argument !  If  this  be  to 
demonstrate,  if  this  be  to  confute,  the  idiot 
is  as  capable  of  both  as  the  philosopher. 
May  I  not  cry  out,  in  your  own  strain.  Oh, 
how  deep  an  aversion  to  the  imputed  righte- 
ousness of  Christ  does  this  Arminian  scheme 
discover  !  since  it  will  make  a  man  gainsay, 
when  he  knows  not  why,  or  wherefore  ? 

St.  Paul  declares,  that  the  "Gentiles,  who 
followed  not  after  righteousness,  had  attain- 
ed unto  righteousness."  Upon  which  As- 
pasio  observes,  that  the  righteousness  here 


»  Should  Mr.  Wesley  say.  Though  I  u»ed  these 
words,  I  never  intended  them  for  a  comment  on  this 
passage.  If  you  did  not,  I  imagine  the  compilers  of 
our  Homilies,  from  whom  they  arc  taken,  di.l.  At 
least  they  regarded  ibis  text  as  a  foundation,  a  war- 
rant, a  proof  of  their  doctrine. 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


dol 


mentioned  coii).l  not  be  any  personal  righte- 
ousness. To  vvhieh  Mr.  Wesley  replies, 
"  It  was."  And  to  render  his  reply  quite 
jrresistible,  a  perfect  thunderbolt  in  argu- 
mentation, he  adds,  "  Certainly  it  was." 
How,  Sir  !  Did  they  attain  personal  righte- 
ousness without  seekiijg  after  it?  Are  you 
becoming  a  Calvinist  ?  you  that  had  rather 
be  an  Atheist  ?  Could  the  zealot  of  Ge- 
neva go  greater  lengths  ?  Aspasio  will  not 
'  deny,  that  these  Gentiles  were  sanctified  as 
well  as  justified  ;  but  he  will  venture  to  af- 

•  firm,  that   no   degree   of  sanctification   can 

•  make  the  persons  righteous  who  are  once 
become  sinners.  Christ,  like  Elijah,  first 
casts  his  mantle  over  them  ;  and  then,  like 
Elisha,  they  forsake  all,  and  follow  him. 

"  The  righteousness  which  the  Gentiles 
attained,  could  not  be  a  personal  righteous- 
■  ness."  "  Certainly  it  was." — Then  it  was 
the  righteousness  of  the  law  ;  whereas,  the 
•ighteousness  which  they  attained,  is  ex- 
pressly said  to  be  the  righteousness  of  faith. 
Then  it  was  a  righteousness  consisting  of 
good  works  and  godly  tempers  ;  whereas, 
their  righteousness  consisted  in  believing, 
according  to  the  apostle's  own  explanation, 
"  With  the  heart  man  believeth  unto  righ- 
teousness." Then  it  was  the  righteousness 
of  man.  Personal  righteousness,  and  im- 
planted holiness,  pass  in  the  Scriptures  un- 
der that  denumination.  Whereas,  thest 
Gentiles  "  submitted  themselves  to  the 
righteousness  of  God."  If  what  these  Gen- 
tiles attained  had  been  a  personal  righteous- 
ness, it  would  have  been  no  stumbling- 
block  to  the  Jews.  Even  they  would  have 
fallen  in  with  such  a  system  of  religion,  as 
should  ascribe  righteousness  and  salvation 
to  their  own  duties  and  their  own  deeds. 

You  say,  "  It  was  imjjlanted  as  well  as 
imputed."  Here,  then,  you  acknowledge 
an  imputed  righteousness.  You  yourself  use 
the  phrase  ;  you  aflirm  it  to  be,  if  not  the 
whole,  part  at  least,  of  the  a|)ostle's  doc- 
trine. I  wish  you  had  been  of  this  mind 
when  you  began  your  letter.  Then  you 
would  not  have  conjured  me,  by  all  that  is 
venerable  and  important,  to  discontinue  an 
exjjression  which  conveys — your  own — the 
apostle's  meaning — and  the  meaning  of  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

You  join  imputed  and  implanted  righte- 
ousHess.  So,  in  case  this  address  to  your 
self  should  pass  through  the  printer's  hand, 
would  I  join  a  handsome  type  and  ])ertinent 
reasoning.  Yet  I  appruhciid,  when  you  sit 
down  to  examine  the  esM;  .  you  will  regard 
only  the  latter.  What  y(j:.  associate,  you 
associate  properly.  The  first  is  the  trunk, 
the  last  is  one  of  the  branches  which  s[)rin^ 
from  it.  But  _^the  apostle  seems,  in  the 
place  before  us,  to  be  considering  the  first 
oidy.  The  last  he  reserves  for  some  future 
occasion.     He  is  speaking  of  the  righteous 


ness  by  which  we  are  saved  ;  and  that  is 
solely  the  imputed  righteousness  of  Christ  : 
He  is  speaking  of  the  righteousness  which 
was  an  eye-sore  and  an  oftence  to  the  self- 
conceited  .lews  ;  and  this  was  the  only  im- 
puted righteousness  of  Christ  -.  He  is  speak- 
ing of  a  righteousness,  contradistinguished 
to  that  righteousness  which  is  described  by 
He  that  doeth  these  things  ;"  and  this  can 
be  nothing  else  but  the  imputed  righteous- 
ness of  Christ.  Therefore,  though  love  of 
God,  and  conformity  to  his  image  ;  though 
the  pure  heart  and  the  devout  affection,  are 
the  inseparable  concomitants,  or  rather  the 
genuine  produce  of  imputed  righteousness  ; 
yet  here  they  come  not  under  consideration. 
To  force  them  into  this  passage,  is  to  make 
them  appear  out  of  due  season.  Such  an 
exposition  may  bespeak  a  zealous  o/ficious- 
ness,  not  a  distinguishing  judgment ;  be- 
cause it  confoinids  the  order  of  the  apostle's 
plan  ;  it  defeats  the  design  of  his  argument, 
if  it  docs  not  introduce  self-contradiction 
into  his  arguing. 

This  righteousness  came  upon  the  Gen- 
tiles, as  the  former  and  latter  rain  upon  the 
earth.  To  them  was  fulfilled  the  word 
spoken  by  the  prophet  Isaiah,  "  Let  the 
skies  pour  down  righteousness."  As  the 
earth  engendereth  not  the  rain  ;  has  not  the 
least  influence  in  forming,  or  the  least  agency 
in  procuring  the  refreshing  showers,  but 
only  receiveth  them  as  the  mere  gift  of 
Providence  ;  so  these  Gentiles  had  not  the 
least  influence  in  effecting,  nor  the  least 
agency  in  procuring  this  righteousness. 
When  the  good  news  came  into  their  terri- 
tories, they  were  totally  destitute  of  it,  they 
were  utterly  unconcerned  about  it,  they 
knew  nothing  at  all  concerning  it.  But 
seeing  it  revealed  in  the  gospel,  seeing  it 
displayed  as  the  work  of  God,  and  hearing 
it  offered  as  the  gift  of  God,  they  were  not 
disobedient  to  the  heavenly  invitation. 
They  believed  the  report,  they  accepted  the 
blessing,  and  relied  upon  it  for  life  and  sal- 
vation. Then,  "  as  the  rain  coming  down, 
and  the  snow  from  heaven,  returneth  not 
thither  again,  but  watereth  the  earth  ;  and 
maketh  it  bring  forth  and  bud,  that  it  may 
give  seed  to  the  sower,  and  bread  to  the 
eater;"  so,  this  inestimable  truth  being  ad- 
mitted into  the  soul,  Christ  and  his  righte- 
ousness being  received  to  dwell  in  the  heart, 
Eph.  iii.  17,  all  the  powers  of  intellectual 
nature,  or  what  St.  Paul  calls  "  the  iiuier 
man,"  are  exhilarated,  (luickened,  and  fruc- 
tified. They  bud  as  the  rose,  and  blossom 
as  the  lily;  they  bring  forth  the  fruits  of 
inward  love,  of  outward  obedience,  of  uni- 
versal godliness. 

"  For  instruction  in  righteousness — in  the 
righteousness  of  Christ."  "  Was  there  ever 
such  a  comment  before?"  May  I  not  an- 
swer, in  your  own  word.s,   Was  there  ever 


552 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


such  a  method  of  confutation  used  before  ? 
But  you  add,  "  The  plain  meaning  is,  For 
training  up  in  holiness  of  heart  and  of  life." 
I  wish  you  had  thought  of  introducing  this 
interpretation  by  the  following  short  preface, 
"  I  take  it  for  granted."  You  would  then 
have  been  sure  of  saying  one  truth.  But  if 
this  does  not  appear  plain  to  me,  as  you  see 
it  did  not  to  Aspasio,  methinks  you  should 
lend  me  your  spectacles,  or  favour  me  with 
your  reasons. 

If  you  please  to  examine  the  passage,  you 
will  find  holiness  of  heart  and  life  compre- 
hended in  one  of  the  preceding  expressions. 
ITfOf  iTavaofafiv  signifies,  For  restoration  of 
the  man  to  a  state  of  moral  uprightness ; 
which  must  include  a  renovation  of  the 
mind,  and  a  reformation  of  the  conduct. 
After  this  comes,  very  properly  and  without 
any  tautology,  very  needfully  and  to  the  ex- 
ceeding comfort  of  the  siimer,  another  most 
valuable  property  of  the  Scriptures.  They 
instruct  the  reader  in  the  Christian  righte- 
ousness ;  in  the  justifying  righteousness ; 
in  that  mysterious,  but  incomparably  preci- 
ous righteousness,  which  no  other  book  in 
the  world  displays,  meoitions,  or  so  much  as 
hints  :  Yet,  without  which,  we  could  never 
stand  in  the  judgment,  never  find  acceptance 
with  God,  nor  be  admitted  into  the  realms  of 
glory.  If  you  reject  this  sense,  the  apostle's 
character  of  the  sacred  volumes  is  very  de- 
fective. It  leaves  out  what  is  their  supreme 
excellence  and  most  distinguishing  peculia- 
rity ;  what  is  first,  and  above  all  other  things, 
necessary  for  our  fallen  race.  A  traveller 
undertakes  to  give  an  account  of  some  cele- 
brated pictuie  g^illery.  He  describes  the 
dimensions  of  the  structure,  the  form  of  the 
windows,  the  oiriamentsof  the  roof;  but 
he  quite  forgets,  at  least  he  totally  omits, 
the  article  of  the  ])aintings.  Is  this  a  mas- 
terly execution  of  his  design  ?  Is  this  satis- 
factory to  the  hearer's  curiosity? 

"  He  shall  convince  the  world  of  righte- 
ousness."— "  That  I  am  not  a  sinner,  but 
innocent  and  holy."  How  flat  and  jejune 
is  this  exposition  !  Nothing  can  be  more  so, 
to  my  taste.  Innocent  and  holy  !  Is  this 
all  the  Spirit  witnesses  concerning  the  most 
adorable  and  infinitely  deserving  Son  of 
God  ?  Does  this  come  up  to  the  inconceiv- 
able dignity  of  his  person,  and  the  immense- 
ly glorious  perfection  of  his  wojk  ?  Is  this 
sufficient  to  comfort  the  conscience,  smitten 
with  a  sense  of  most  damnable  guilt,  and 
alarmed  with  the  terrors  of  eternal  ven- 
geance ? 


shall  convince  the  world  of  sin :  of  the 
guilty  and  miserable  state  in  which  all  man- 
kind are  plunged  by  nature,  and  in  which 
every  individual  person  continues  so  long  as 
he  is  destitute  of  an  interest  in  Christ;  so 
long  as  he  believeth  not  in  him  who  died 
upon  the  cross,  and  is  gone  to  the  Father. 
Of  riyhtcousness  :  He  shall  reveal  the  Re- 
deemer's most  perfect  and  magnificent 
righteousness  in  their  hearts  ;  that  righte- 
ousness which  satisfies  the  justice  of  the 
Most  High,  and  brings  complete  redemp- 
tion to  transgressors  :  Testifying,  not  bare- 
ly that  he  is  innocent ;  such  was  Adam  in 
paradise  :  not  barely  that  he  is  holy  ;  such 
are  angels  in  heaven-  Shall  the  eternal 
Creator,  even  after  his  humiliation  unto 
death,  have  no  higher  a  testimony  than  a 
set  of  mere  creatures  ?  Yes,  verily  ;  the 
Holy  Ghost  will  convince  the  world,  that 
Christ's  righteousness  is  the  grand  and 
capital  blessing  which  the  prophets  foretold, 
and  which  not  only  fulfils,  but  magnifies 
the  law  :  That  it  is  the  righteousness,  the 
very  righteousness  of  the  incarnate  Jeho- 
vah ;  and  therefore  renders  every  soul,  to 
whom  it  is  imputed,  unblamable,  unreprov- 
able,  complete.  Glorious  office  this,  wor- 
thy to  be  the  object  of  the  almighty  Com- 
forter's agency  !  in  performing  which  he  ad- 
ministers strong  consolation.  Then  he 
shall  convince  of  judgment ;  shall  condemn 
and  cast  out  the  prince  of  this  world,  intro- 
ducing a  most  happy  change  into  the  heart 
and  life  ;  shall  begin  and  carry  on  the  work 
of  grace,  sanctification,  obedience  ;  and  all 
through  the  joyful  knowledge,  together  with 
the  personal  a])propriation,  of  this  justifying 
righteousness. 

"  That  we  might  be  made  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  in  him  :"  which  cannot  be  in- 
trinsically, but  must  he  imputatively.  This 
interpretation  Aspasio  establishes,  attempts 
at  least  to  establish,  from  the  tenor  of  the 
context,  from  the  apostle's  antithesis,  and 
from  several  venerable  names.  But  what 
are  all  these  to  Mr.  Wesley  ?  No  more 
than  the  arrow  and  the  spear  to  Leviathan. 
Nay,  not  so  much.  That  scaly  monster 
"  esteemeth  iron  as  straw,  and  brass  as  rot- 
ten wood."  But  Mr.  Wesley,  cased  in 
his  own  self-sufliciency,  esteemeth  all  the 
afore-mentioned  evidences  as  mere  nothings. 
He  totally  disregards  them.  Reason,  gram- 
mar, precedents,  are  eclipsed  by  his  bare 
negative,  and  vanish  into  an  insignificancy 
not  worthy  of  notice. 

When  Aspasio,  supported  by  such  great 


The  whole  clause  contains  a  platform  or  authorities,  says,  this  cannot  be  intrinsical- 
summary  of  evangelical  truth  ;  of  that  all-  ly,  but  must  be  imputatively ;  Mr.  Wesley, 
important  truth  which  ministers  are  to  [  supported  by  his  greater  self,  replies, 
teach  and  preach  ;  which  the  Holy  Spirit  "  13oth  the  one  and  the  other."  But  does 
will  own  and  accompany  with  his  influence,  he  duly  advert  to  the  apostle's  subject,  or 
and  which  is  thereby  made  the  power  of  folliAV  the  clue  of  the  context  ?  The  sub- 
God  to  the  salvation  of  the  hearers.     He  jcct  is  reconciliation  with  God,  justification 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


5od 


before  God,  or  that,  whatever  it  be,  which 
is  implied  in  not  imputing  trespasses-  The 
context  intimates,  that  intrinsic  holiness  is 
not  yet  taken  into  consideration,  hut  is  re- 
served for  the  next  chapter.  There  the 
apostle  exhorts  the  Corinthians,  not  to  re- 
ceive this  infinitely  rich  grace  of  free  justi- 
fication in  vain  ;  but  to  shew  its  efficacy,  to 
shew  its  excellency,  and  recommend  it  to 
the  unbelieving  world,  by  an  unblamable 
conversation,  giving  no  offence  in  any  thing. 

Justification,  then,  is  the  only  point  which 
the  apostle  in  this  passage  considers  ;  and 
justification  is  the  fruit  of  imputed  righte- 
ousness solely,  not  of  inherent  righteous- 
ness in  any  degree.  This  we  must  allow, 
unless  we  prefer  the  impositions  of  Trent 
before  the  confession  of  our  church.  Faith 
says  unto  us,  "  It  is  not  I  that  take  away 
your  sins,  but  C'hrist  only ;  and  to  him  on- 
ly I  send  you  for  that  purpose,  forsaking 
therein  all  your  good  words,  thoughts,  and 
works, and  onjyputtingyourtrustin  Christ:" 
Thus  speaks  and  thus  teaches  our  reformed 
church.  "  If  any  one  say,  that  man  is  jus- 
tified only  by  the  imputation  of  Christ's 
righteousness,  or  only  by  the  remission 
of  sins,  without  the  co-operation  of  in- 
herent grace  and  holy  love,  let  him  be  ac- 
cursed ;"  Sess.  vi.  Can.  1 1  .  Thus  dog- 
matizes, and  thus  anathematizes,  that  mo- 
ther of  falsehoods.  Choose  now  your  side. 
For  my  part,  I  renounce  and  abjure  the 
proud  and  iniquitous  decree.  If  you  per- 
sist in  your  present  opinion,  there  will  be 
an  apparent  harmony  between  yourself  and 
Rome,  but  an  essential  difference  between 
yourself  and  Aspasio. 

"  God,  through  him,  first  accounts,  and 
then  makes  us  righteous-"  How !  does 
God  account  us  righteous,  before  he  makes 
us  so  ?  Then  his  judgment  is  not  accord- 
ing to  truth ;  then  he  reckons  us  to  be 
righteous,  when  we  are  really  otherwise. 
Is  not  this  the  language  of  your  doctrine  ? 
this  the  unavoidable  consequence  of  your 
notion  ?  But  how  harsh,  if  not  horrid,  does 
it  sound  in  every  ear !  Is  not  this  absolute- 
ly irreconcilable  with  our  ideas  of  the  Su- 
preme Being,  and  equally  incompatible  with 
the  dictates  of  Scripture  ?  There  we  are 
taught  that  God  "justifieth  the  ungodly." 
Mark  the  words  :  "  TTie  ungodlij  are  the  ob- 
jects of  the  divine  justitication.  But  can  he 
accoimt  the  ungodly  righteous  ?  Impossi- 
ble !  How  then  does  he  act  ?  He  first  makes 
them  righteous.*  After  what  manner  ? 
By  imputing  to  them  the  righteousness  of 
liis  dear  Son.  Then  he  pronounces  them 
righteous,  and  most  truly  ;  he  treats  them 
as  righteous,  and  most  justly.     In  short, 


•  Agreeably  to  this,  our  church  speaks:  "  In  justi- 
fication, of  unjust,  we  are  made  just  before  God;" 
and  adds,  "  This  is  the  strong  rock  and  foundation 
of  Christian  religion."— Horn.  nfJusUf.  part  2. 


then  he  absolves  them  from  guilt,  adopts 
them  for  his  children,  and  makes  them  heirs 
of  his  eternal  kingdom.  In  the  grand  tran- 
saction, thus  regulated,  mercy  and  truth 
meet  together ;  all  proceeds  in  the  most 
harmonious  and  beautiful  consistency  with 
the  several  attributes  of  God,  with  his 
whole  revealed  will,  and  with  all  his  righte- 
ous law. 

"  The  righteousness  which  is  of  God  by 
faith,  is  both  imputed  and  inherent."  Then 
it  is  like  interweaving  linen  and  woollen ; 
the  motley  mixture  forbidden  to  the  Israel- 
ites. Or  rather,  like  weaving  a  thread  of 
the  finest  gold  with  a  hempen  cord,  or  a 
spider's  web.  The  righteousness  which  is 
of  God,  is  perfect,  consummate,  everlasting. 
Not  so  inherent  righteousness,  your  own 
self  being  judge,  and  your  own  pen  being 
witness.  In  the  righteousness  which  is  of 
God,  the  apostle  desires  to  be  found,  before 
the  great  and  terrible  tribunal  of  the  Lord. 
His  own  righteousness,  or  the  righteousness 
which  is  inherent,  he  abandons,  as  absolutely 
improper  for  this  great  purpose  ;  being  no 
more  fitted  to  give  him  boldness  at  the  day 
of  judgment,  than  dung  and  filth  are  fit  to 
introduce  a  person,  with  credit  and  digtiity, 
to  court.  The  righteousness  which  is  of 
God,  is  unknown  to  reason,  is  revealed  from 
heaven,  and  without  the  works  of  the  law  : 
w'hereas,  the  righteousness  inherent,  is  dis- 
coverable by  reason,  was  known  to  the 
Heathens,  and  consists  in  a  conformity  of 
heart  and  life  to  the  precepts  of  the  law. 
By  the  latter,  we  act,  we  obey,  and  offer 
our  spiritual  sacrifices  unto  God  ;  by  the 
former,  we  woi'k  nothing,  we  render  nothing 
unto  God,  but  only  receive  of  his  grace. 

They  are,  therefore,  not  the  same,  but 
totally  distinct.  To  blend  and  confound 
them  betrays  unskilfulness  in  the  word  of 
righteousness  ;  derogates  from  the  honour 
of  Christ ;  and  tends  to  cherish  a  legal 
frame,  or  what  the  Scripture  calls,  "  a  spirit 
of  bondage."  If  you  would  approve  your- 
self a  workman  that  need  not  be  ashamed, 
rightly  dividing  the  word  of  truth,  thus  you 
should  speak,  and  thus  you  should  write  : 
The  righteousness  of  God  is  always  imput- 
ed ;  but,  being  imputed,  it  produces  the 
righteousness  inherent.  Being  justified  by 
the  former,  saved  from  hell,  and  rendered 
meet  for  heaven  ;  we  are  sanctified  also, 
and  disposed  to  love  the  Lord,  who  has 
dealt  so  bountifully  with  us.  And  if  to 
love,  then  to  worship  him,  to  serve  him,  to 
imitate  him. 

"  My  faith  fixes  on  both  the  meritorious 
life  and  atoning  death  of  Christ." — "  Here 
we  clearly  agree."  How  can  you  clearly 
agree,  either  with  Aspasio.  or  with  your- 
self, or  with  common  sense  ?  How  with 
Aspasio?  since  you  question,  in  direct  con- 
trariety to  his  sentiments,  whether  the  death 


554 


LETTERS   TO   THE 


of  Christ  be  not  the  whole  of  what  St. 
■  Paul  styles,  "The  obedience  of  one." — 
How  with  yoxirself?  For,  did  you  not  de- 
clare a  little  while  ajjo,  that  fallen  man  "  is 
not  justified  by  perfect  obedience  ?"  Is  not 
Christ's  meritorions  life  perfect  obedience  ? 
If  your  faith  fixes  on  this  perfect  obedience, 
is  it  not  for  the  purpose  of  justification? — 
How  witii  common  sense  ?  Since  you  sup- 
pose that  the  "  Scripture  ascribes  the  whole 
of  our  salvation  to  the  death  of  Christ ;" 
so  entirely  ascribes  it  to  the  death  of  Christ, 
"  that  there  was  no  need  of  his  fulfilling  the 
moral  law,  in  order  to  purchase  redemption 
for  us  ;"  what  reason,  or  shadow  of  reason 
can  you  have,  to  fix  upon  what  we  call  the 
merit  of  his  life?  If  what  you  suppose  and 
affirm  be  true,  there  was  no  kind  of  meri- 
torious efficacy  in  his  life.  His  life,  and  all 
his  labours,  were  in  this  respect  a  mere 
superfluity.  Salvation  might  have  been 
obtained,  and  redemption  purchased,  with- 
out their  concurrence.  Therefore,  to  fix 
upon  them  is  to  fix  upon  a  phantom,  and  to 
rest  your  hopes  upon  a  thing  of  nought. 

But  stay.  Am  I  not  repeating  the  mis- 
conduct which  proved  so  fatal  to  the  fa- 
mous Earl  of  Warwick  and  his  forces  ?  At 
the  battle  of  Gladmore,  while  the  scale  of 
victory  hung  in  suspense,  they  saw  a  consi- 
derable body  of  troops  advancing.  Sup- 
posing them  to  be  enemies,  the  bowmen 
made  a  general  discharge,  and  galled  them 
with  their  arrows.  But  they  soon  perceiv- 
ed their  mistake  ;  that  they  had  been  op- 
posing their  friends,  and  annoying  their  al- 
lies. Perhaps  by  this  time  you  are  become 
my  ally.  You  may  have  seen  your  errors, 
may  have  corrected  your  notions  ;  saying, 
in  ratification  of  both,  "  We  agree." 

That  is,  "  I  would  no  longer  exclude  the 
meritorious  obedience  of  Christ.  But 
this,  together  with  his  atoning  death,  I  look 
upon  as  the  only  cause  of  ray  justification. 
This  I  call  his  righteousness  ;  and  this,  be- 
ing imputed  to  me,  becomes  my  plea,  my 
portion,  and  rational  foundation  for  my 
everlasting  felicity.  This  I  receive  by  faith. 
Which  I  now  look  upon,  not  as  constitut- 
ing any  part  of  my  recommendation,  but 
only  as  receptive  of  the  fulness  laid  up  for 
me  in  Christ.  Though  the  law  of  works 
saith.  Do  and  live;  I  am  now  made  sensi- 
ble that  the  law  of  faith  says, — Be  verily 
persuaded  that  Christ  is  sufiicient  for  thy 
acceptance,  without  any  doing  of  thy  own 
at  all.  Since  Christ  is  given  to  me,  in  the 
sacred  record  given  to  me  as  a  sinner,  to  be 
received  without  any  conditions,  I  joyfully 
accept  the  gift.  I  am  satisfied  with  his  do- 
ing and  sufl^ering  :  They  are  divinely  excel- 
lent, and  infinitely  sufficient  :  I  neither 
wish  for,  nor  think  of  any  thing  more,  to 
obtain  my  complete  salvation.  This  way 
of  salvation   efl"ectual!y  excludes  boasting  ; 


and,  at  the  same  time,  produces  those  de^ 
sirable  effects,  that  love  of  God,  that  de^ 
light  in  his  perfections,  that  conformity  to 
his  will,  which  the  law  of  works  requires  in 
vain." 

If  this  is  what  you  mean,  by  "  We  agree," 
I  would  seal  and  ratify  the  agreement  with 
the  last  v\'ish  and  the  last  words  of  the  ce- 
lebrated Father  Paul,  Es/o  perpetua.  Be 
this  the  case,  and  you  shall  have,  not  only 
the  right  hand  of  fellowship,  but  the  right 
hand  of  pre-eminence-  Only  I  crave  one 
favour  in  return  :  Dismiss  those  injurious 
insinuations,  which  cause  your  readers  to 
suspect  that  Aspasio  considers  the  meri- 
torious life  of  Christ  separate  from  his 
atoning  death  ;  whereas,  he  affirms  them  to 
be  inseparable,  like  the  correspondence  of 
motion  between  the  two  eyes.  Try  if  you 
can  make  one  of  your  eyes  move  to  the 
right,  while  the  other  wheels  off'  to  the 
left.  When  you  have  done  this,  then,  and 
not  till  then,  you  may  have  some  reasona- 
ble pretence  for  these  your  suggestions. 

Alas  !  Quanta  de  spe  decidi !  I  find  oiy 
hopes  were  too  sanguine.  We  are  not  come 
to  the  desired  coalition.  In  this  very  par- 
agraph you  begin  to  fly  off".  By  talking  of 
imputed  righteousness,  you  tell  us,  "  we  are 
exposed  to  an  exceeding  great  hazard  j  even 
the  hazard  of  living  and  dying  without  holi- 
ness." Pray,  Sir,  have  you  seen  a  little 
piece  written  upon  this  subject  by  the  Rey. 
Mr.  Witherspoon  ?  If  you  have  not,  let 
me  recommend  it  to  your  perusal.  In  case 
you  are  ignorant  of  that  powerful  influence 
which  justification  through  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ  has  upon  sanctification  and 
true  holiness,  from  this  treatise  you  may 
learn  some  valuable  knowledge-  In  case 
the  author  of  this  treatise  is  mistaken,  in 
maintaining  the  .indissoluble  connexion  qf 
justification  with  true  godliness,  and  the 
never-failing  efficacy  of  the  Redeemer's 
righteousness  to  bring  forth  willing  obedi- 
ence in  the. believer,  you  may  have  an  op- 
portunity of  rectifying  his  sentiments.  You 
may  give  us,  in  your  next  publication,  a 
preservative,  not  only  against  unsettled,  but 
against  unsound  notions  in  religion. 

Theron,  speaking  of  gems,  says,  "  When 
nicely  polished,  and  prodigal  of  their  lustre, 
they  stand  candidates  for  a  seat  on  the  vir- 
tuous fair  one's  breast."  This  displeases 
Mr.  Wesley.  Would  he  then  have  gems 
placed  on  the  vicious  or  lascivious  breast  ? 
Or  would  he  have  them  put  to  no  use  at 
all,  but  buried  in  darkness?  Did  the  Al- 
mighty pour  such  brilliancy  upon  them,  on- 
ly that  they  might  be  consigned  over  to  ob- 
scurity ?  Did  he  not  rather  array  them 
with  lustre  and  with  charms,  that  they  might 
display  something  of  his  own  brightness  ; 
incite  his  rational  creatures  to  admire  his 
transcendent  excellency,  and  teach  his  faith- 


REV.  MR    WESLEY. 


S5S 


ful  people  to  apprehend  the  emphasis  of 
that  animating  promise,  "  They  shall  be 
mine,  in  the  day  that  I  make  up  my  jew- 
els." 

"  I  cannot  reconcile  this  with  St.  Paul. 
He  says,  not  with  pearls;  by  a  parity  of 
reason,  not  with  diamonds."  Do  you 
rightly  understand  St.  Paul  ?  Do  not  you 
dwindle  his  manly  and  noble  idea  into  a 
meanness  and  littleness  of  sense  ?  such  as 
befits  the  superstitious  and  contracted  spirit 
of  a  hermit,  rather  than  the  generous  and 
exalted  temper  of  a  believer,  *'  who  stands 
fast  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  hath 
made  him  free  ?"  Our  Lord  says  not,  they 
that  are  splendidly  apparelled,  are  apparelled 
unsuitably  to  Christianity,  or  in  a  manner 
inconsistent  with  the  fear  of  God  ;  but 
they  arc  in  /dnr/'s  courts,  and  their  dress  is 
adapted  to  their  station.  Neither  does  St. 
Paul  forbid  the  use  of  pearls,  or  costly  ar- 
Ti)y,  when  a  person's  circumstances  will  af- 
ford them,  and  his  situation  in  life  may  re- 
quire them  :  He  rather  cautions  against  the 
abuse,  against  looking  upon  these  glittering 
things  as  any  part  of  their  true  dignity,  on 
which  they  value  themselves,  or  by  which 
they  would  be  recommended  to  others. 
The  word  is  not  ivhucracSxi,  put  on,  (JMark 
vi.  9.);  nor  tpo^nv,  wear,  (Matth.  xi.  8.)  ; 
but  KoiTfiiiv,  adorn.  "  Let  them  not  place 
their  excellency  in  such  mean  distinctions  ; 
no,  nor  covet  to  distinguish  themselves  by 
these  superficial  decorations  ;  but  rather  by 
the  substantial  ornaments  of  real  godliness 
and  good  works,  which  will  render  both 
them  and  their  religion  truly  amiable. 

The  apostle  Peter  observes  the  same 
propriety  of  speech,  and  the  same  correct- 
ness of  sentiment  ;  "  Whose  adorning  let 
it  not  be  that  outward  adorning  of  wearing 
of  gold,  or  plaiting  the  hair,  or  putting  on 
of  apparel."  Was  this  an  absolute  prohi- 
bition of  the  several  particulars  mentioned, 
it  would  forbid  all  kind  of  clothing,  or  the 
putting  on  of  aiiy  apparel.  Take  the  pas- 
sage in  your  rigorous  sense,  and  it  concludes 
as  forcibly  against  garments  as  against  orna- 
ments ;  we  must  even  go  naked,  and  lay 
asule  our  clothes,  as  well  as  our  gems. 
Whereas,  understood  according  to  the  na- 
tural signification  of  the  words,  (^v  a  KssfMi:, 
not  &»  TO  it'hufn.a.^)  it  conveys  a  very  import- 
ant, and  a  very  seasonable  exhortation  -. 
"  Christiiins,  scorn  to  borrow  your  recom- 
mendations from  the  needle,  the  loom,  or 
the  toy-shop  :  This  may  be  the  fashion  of 
a  vain  world  ;  but  let  your  embellishments, 
or  that  which  beautifies  and  distinguishes 
your  character,  be  of  a  superior  nature. 
J.ct  it  be  internal ;  not  such  as  the  sheep 
have  wore,  or  the  silk-worms  spun  ;  but 
such  as  is  peculiar  to  the  immortal  mind, 
or  '  the  hidden  man  of  the  heart.'  Let  it 
he  stibstantial ;  not  such  as  the  moth  cor- 


rodes, or  such  as  perishes  in  usuig ;  but 
'  tliat  which  is  not  corruptible  ;'  which  be- 
ing planted  on  earth,  will  bo  transplanted 
into  heaven  ;  and  being  sown  in  lime,  will 
fiourish  to  eternity.  Let  it  be  that  adorn- 
ing, whose  excellency,'  is  unquestionable, 
and  '  whose  praise  is  of  God,  (even)  the 
ornament  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit :' 
which  will  render  you,  not  indeed  like  the 
grandees  of  the  eaith,  but  like  the  Son  of 
the  Highest ;  shewing  that  you  are  united 
to  him,  interested  in  him,  and  partakers  of 
his  divine  nature." 

"  In  all  things,  I  perceive,  you  are  too 
favourable,  both  to  the  desire  of  the  flesh, 
and  to  the  desire  of  the  eye."  I  rather 
think  Mr.  Wesley  istoo  censoriou.?  of  others, 
and  too  indulgent  to  himself.  Why  may 
not  Theron  wear  his  richly  embossed  gold 
watch,  and  his  lady  use  her  golden  buckle 
set  with  diamonds,  as  well  as  you  and  I  wear 
a  silver  buckle,  or  make  use  of  our  silver 
watch  ?  Why  may  not  an  earl  or  a  countess 
put  on  their  lobes,  sumptuous  with  embroi- 
dery, or  their  coronet  glittering  with  jewels, 
as  inoifensively  as  you  aiui  I  put  on  a  bea-. 
ver  hat,  or  trail  after  us  a  prunella  gown  ? 
There  is  no  necessity  for  this  our  sprnce- 
ness.  A  fustian  jacket  would  keep  our 
backs  warm,  and  a  flannel  cap  our  heads,  as 
well  as  our  more  elegant  array.  Methinks, 
therefore,  we  should  either  abstain  from  all 
needless  finery  in  our  own  dress,  or  else 
forbear  to  censure  it  in  others.  Rather,  we 
should  all,  in  our  respective  stations,  and 
according  to  our  respective  circumstances, 
use  these  things  as  not  abusing  them ;  re- 
membering that  the  fashion  of  this  world 
passeth  away  :  Looking,  therefore,  for  that 
city  of  the  living  God,  "  whose  walls  are  of 
jasper,  whose  buildings  are  of  pure  gold,  and 
whose  foundations  are  garnished  with  all 
manner  of  precious  stones  ;"  but  whose  ex- 
ternal splendour  is  infinitely  surpassed  by 
the  glory  of  God,  which  lightens  it,  and  by 
the  presence  of  the  Lamb,  which  is  the 
light  thereof.  Wh<;n  we  are  blessed  with 
clear  apprehensions  of  this  ineffable  glory, 
which  shall  be  revealed  ;  when  we  live  un- 
der a  delightful  persuasion  that  God  hath 
given  to  us  tbis  eternal  life ;  gems  will  have  but 
littlelustreinoureye,  and  less  and  lessallure- 
ments  for  our  heart.  All  the  pomp  of  this 
transient  world  will  appear  to  us,  as  the  pa- 
lace of  Versailles  or  the  gardens  of  Stowe 
would  appear  to  some  superior  being,  who, 
from  an  exalted  stand  in  either,  should  con- 
template the  terraqueous  globe,  and  at  one 
view  take  in  its  vast  dimensions,  its  prodigi- 
ous revolutions,  and  its  most  copious  furni- 
ture. 

"  You  are  a  gentle  casuist  as  to  every 
self-indulgence  which  a  plentiful  fortune  can 
furnish."  1  would  consider  the  end  for 
which  these  things  were  created,  and  point 


55« 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


out  and  enforce  their  proper  improvements. 
They  were  created,  not  to  tantalize,  but  to 
treat  us  ;  not  to  ensnare,  but  to  gratify  us. 
Then  they  are  properly  improved,  when  we 
enjoy  them  with  moderation,  and  render 
them  instruments  of  usefulness  ;  when  they 
-are  regarded  as  pregnant  tokens  of  our  Cre- 
ator's love,  and  act  as  endearing  incitements 
of  our  gratitude.  What  you  call  my  casu- 
istry, is  built  upon  a  maxim  which  will 
never  be  controverted,  "  Every  creature  of 
God  is  good,  if  received  with  thanksgiving," 
It  is  nothing  else  but  an  attempt  to  display 
what  is  affirmed  in  the  former  clause,  and 
to  enforce  what  is  prescribed  in  the  latter. 

In  the  sixth  letter,  in  the  ninth,  and  in 
other  parts,  Theron  enumerates  some  of  the 
finest  productions,  and  most  choice  acconl- 
modations,  which  the  earth,  the  air,  the 
seas  afford  :  in  imitation  of  the  apostle,  who 
in  one  sentence  expresses  abundantly  more 
than  my  tlu-ee  volumes  contain,  "  He  giveth 
us  all  things  richly  to  enjoy  :"  in  imitation 
of  the  Psalmist  also,  who.  in  several  of  his 
hymns,  especially  in  Psalm  civ.,  celebrates 
the  profuse  munificence  of  Jeliovah  ;  pro- 
fuse, even  in  temporal  blessings,  and  with 
regard  to  our  animal  nature.  Does  our  na- 
ture call  for  any  thing  to  support  it  ?  Here 
is  "  bread,  which  strengthens  man's  heart," 
and  is  the  staff  of  his  life.  Docs  our  nature 
go  farther,  and  covet  things  to  please  it? 
Here  is  "  wine,  that  maketh  glad  the  heart 
of  man  ;"  regaling  his  palate,  and  exhilarating 
his  spirits.  Is  our  nature  yet  more  cravir  g, 
and  desirous  of  something  to  beautify  it? 
Here  is  "oil,  that  maketh  the  face  to  shine;" 
that  the  countenance  may  appear  both 
cheerful  aud  amiable ;  that  gaiety  may 
sparkle  in  the  eye,  while  beauty  glows  in 
the  cheek.  Now  I  cannot  persuade  myself, 
nor  is  all  Mr.  Wesley's  rhetoric  power- 
ful enough  to  convince  me,  that  it  is  any 
discredit,  or  any  error,  to  follow  such  ex- 
amples. 

"  But  I  mention  the  exquisite  relish  of 
turbot,  and  the  deliciousness  of  sturgeon. 
And  are  not  such  observations  beneath  the 
dignity  of  a  minister  of  Christ  ?"  Mr.  Wes- 
ley does  not  observe  from  whom  these  re- 
marks proceed.  Not  from  Aspasio,  but 
Theron.  To  make  him  speak  like  a  minis- 
ter of  Chi  ist,  or  like  a  Christian  of  the  first 
rank,  would  be  entirely  out  of  character.  It 
would  have  betrayed  an  utter  ignorance,  or 
a  total  disregard  of  Horace's  rule, 

Reddereper5on£Escit  convenientia  cuicjue. 

However,  I  am  willing  to  take  all  upon  my- 
self, and  be  responsible  for  the  obnoxious 
sentiments.  I  would  only  ask,  is  any  thing 
•ipoken  of  which  the  Almighty  has  not  made? 
and  shall  I  think  it  beneath  my  dignity  to 
magnify  the  work  of  his  hands  ? — Is  any 
thing  spoken  of  which  the  yVhnighty  has  not 


bestowed  ?  and  shall  I  think  it  a  diminution 
of  my  character  to  acknowledge  the  various 
gifts  of  his  bounty  ? — Has  God  most  high 
thought  it  worthy  of  his  infinite  Majesty  to 
endue  the  creatures  with  such  pleasing  qua- 
lities as  render  them  a  delicious  entertain. 
ment  to  our  appetites  ?  and  shall  I  reckon 
it  a  mean  unbecoming  employ  to  bear  wit- 
ness to  this  condescending  indulgence  of 
the  Deity?  Particularity  in  recounting  be- 
nefits, is  seldom  deemed  a  fault.  It  comes 
under  no  such  denomination  in  my  system 
of  ethics.  If  Mr.  Wesley  has  a  better,  in 
which  neglect  and  insensibility  are  ranked 
among  the  virtues,  I  must  undoubtedly, 
upon  those  principles,  drop  my  plea.  Where 
they  are  commendable,  my  conduct  must  be 
inexcusable  ;  and  if  inexcusable,  I  fear  irre- 
claimable. For  I  shall  never  be  ashamed 
to  take  a  fish,  a  fowl,  or  a  fruit  in  my  hand, 
and  say,  "  A  present  this  from  my  all-boun- 
tiful Creator  !  See  its  beauty,  taste  its 
sweetness,  admire  its  excellency,  and  love 
and  adore  the  great  Benefactor.  To  us  he 
has  freely  granted  these  and  other  delights  ; 
though  he  himself,  in  the  days  of  his  flesh, 
had  gall  to  eat  and  vinegar  to  drink." 

"  But  the  mentioning  these  in  such  a 
manner,  is  a  strong  encouragement  of  luxu- 
ry and  sensuality."  If  to  enumerate  a  few 
of  these  dainties,*  be  a  strong  encourage- 
ment to  luxury,  how  much  more,  to  create 
them  all,  and  clothe  them  with  such  invit- 
ing properties,  and  recommend  them  by 
such  delicate  attrnctives  ?  But  "  the  men- 
tioning them  in  such  a  manner."  What  ! 
Is  this  an  encouragement  to  sensuality  ?  To 
mention  them  as  so  many  instances  of  di- 
vine beneficence,  and  so  many  motives  to 
human  gratitude  ?  This,  methinks,  is  the 
way  to  prevent  the  abuse  of  our  animal  en- 
joyments, and  to  correct  their  pernicious 
tendency.  This  is  the  way  to  endear  their 
adorable  Giver,  and  render  them  incentives 
to  love.  And  the  love  of  God  is  a  better 
guard  against  luxury,  a  better  preservative 
from  sensuality,  than  all  the  rigid  rules  of 
the  cloister  or  monastery. 

Upon  the  whole,  however  well  affected 
Mr.  Wesley  may  be  to  our  civil,  he  seems 
to  be  a  kind  of  malecontent  with  regard  to 
our  spiritual  liberties — those,  I  mean,  which 
are  consigned  over  to  us  in  the  Magna 
Charta  of  the  gospel. 

We  have  liberty,  through  .Jesus  Christ, 
to  use  not  one  only,  but  every  creature  of 
God ;  and  to  use  them  in  a  sanctified  man- 
ner, so  that  they  shall  not  sensualize  our 
affections,  but  refine  and  exalt  them,  by 
knitting  our  hearts  more  inseparably  to  their 
munificent  Creator.  According  to  that 
clause  in   the  heavenly  deed,  "  All    things 


♦  The  Scripture  calls  them  royal  dainties.  Gen. 
xlix.  20. 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY 

This   yoii   would  curtail   and 


557 


are  yours 
diminish. 

We  have  liberty  to  look  upon  ourselves 
as  justified  before  God,  without  any  works 
of  our  own  ;  made  perfectly  righteous  in 
his  sight,  without  any  personal  obedience 
whatever ;  entirely  through  our  Represen- 
tative and  Surety,  what  he  has  suffered  in 
our  name  and  in  our  stead  ;  according  to 
those  gracious  declarations,  "  In  the  Lord 
have  1  righteousness,"  and,  "  By  the  obe- 
dience of  one  shall  many  be  made  righte- 
ous." This  you  would  supersede  and  abo- 
lish. 

We  have  liberty  to  claim  and  receive  this 
unspeakable  privilege,  without  performing 
any  conditions,  or  seeking  any  prerequisites. 
Having  no  other  qualitication  than  that  of 
being  lost  sinners,  and  needing  no  other 
warrant  than  the  divine  grant,  made  and 
recorded  in  the  word  of  the  gospel.  Ac- 
cording to  that  most  generous  invitation, 
"  Come,  buy  wine  and  buy  milk,  without 
money  and  without  price."  According  to 
that  most  gratuitous  concession,  "  Who- 
ever will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  life 
freely."  This  you  would  clog  and  embar- 
rass. 

We  have  liberty,  through  our  Lord's 
atonement,  to  look  upon  ourselves  as  made 
free  from  all  guilt ;  to  consider  our  sins  as 
absolutely  blotted  out,  never  to  appear  again, 
either  to  our  utter  condemnation  or  to  our 
least  confusion. 

The  three  first  articles  of  the  charge,  I 
think,  are  made  clear,  too  clear  and  undenia- 
ble, in  the  course  of  the  preceding  letters. 
Should  you  challenge  me  to  prove  the  last, 
I  refer  you  to  your  assize  sermon.  There 
you  tell  us,  that  the  sins  of  true  believers, 
as  well  as  of  unbelievers,  will  be  brought  to 
liglu.  and  exposed  before  the  whole  world, 
at  the  day  of  universal  judgment. 

Here  1  must  do  you  the  justice  to  ac- 
knowledge, that  you  have  not,  as  in  your 
epistolary  animadversions  on  Aspasio,  re- 
quired your  audience  to  assent,  merely  be- 
cause you  athrm.  You  attempt  to  establish 
your  opinion  by  the  authority  of  Solomon, 
"  God  shall  bring  every  work  into  judg- 
ment, with  every  secret  thing,  whether  it 
be  good,  or  whether  it  be  evil."  But  you 
seem  to  forget,  that  the  sins  of  the  believer 
are  -ra  //.ri  ovr/t, — Things  thut  are  not. 
"  Christ  has  blotted  out,  as  a  thick  cloud, 
our  transgressions  ;  yea,  as  a  thin  cloud, 
our  sins,"  Isa.  xliv.  22.  t'onsider  them  as 
moral  stains,  or  causes  of  di'filemcnt ;  they 
are  washed  away  by  the  blood  of  Jesus  ; 
and  surely  the  blood  of  God  must  have  as 
powerful  an  effect  on  our  souls,  as  the  wa- 
ters of  Jordan  had  upon  Nnaman's  body,  2 
Kings  V.  1-i.  Consider  them  as  contract- 
ing guilt,  or  deserving  punishment ;  they  are 
v.uated,  they  are  disammlled,  and,  like  the 


scape-goat,  dismissed  into  the  patiiless  in-  . 
accessible    \\ilderness  ;  "  when   sought  for,  i 
they  shall  not  be  found."      Consider  them 
in  either  of  these   respects,  or   under   any  , 
other  character,  and  they  are  not  only  cov- 
ered or  secreted,  but  abolished  ;  just  as  the 
darkness  of  the  night  is   abolished  by  the 
splendour  of  the  clear,  serene,   delightful 
morning. 

Bring  to  our  sight,  if  you  can,  the  mill- 
stone that  is  cast  into  the  depths  of  the 
sea  ;  restore  to  its  former  consistence  the 
cloud  that  is  dissolved  in  rain  ;  or  find  one 
dreg  of  filthiness  in  the  new.  fallen  snow. 
Then  may  those  iniquities  be  brought  sigain 
into  notice,  which  have  been  done  away  by 
the  High-priest  of  our  profession  ;  which 
have  been  expiated  by  the  perfect,  most  ef- 
fectual, and  glorious  oblation  of  himself. 
His  people,  when  rising  from  the  bed  of 
death,  will  "have  no  more  conscience  ot 
sin"  in  themselves :  They  are  fully  and  for 
ever  free  from  the  accusation  of  others  :  So 
free,  that  sin  shall  not  so  much  as  be  men- 
tioned unto  them  ;  no,  nor  even  remember- 
ed by  the  Lord  their  God  any  more.  They 
are  made  holy,  unblamable,  and  unreprova- 
ble  in  his  sight.  And  they  shall  be  pre- 
sented at  the  great  day,  without  spot,  or 
wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing. 

Thus  may  we,  and  thus  may  our  reader's 
be  presented  !  So  shall  we  meet  each  other 
with  comfort  at  the  awfid  tribunal  ;  with 
joy  amidst  the  angels  of  light,  and  with 
everlasting  transport  around  the  throne  of 
the  Lamb.  To  promote  this  blessed  event 
is  the  sole  aim  of  these  remonstrances,  and 
the  unfeigned  desire  of.  Reverend  Sir, 
your,  &c. 


LETTER  XL 

Rf.verknd  Sir, — My  last  concluded 
with  a  sketch  of  our  Chiistian  liberty,  ex- 
tracted from  the  chi-.rter  of  the  gosi)id.  We 
have  liberty  to  use  all  the  creatures  ;  and, 
in  a  sanctified  manner,  to  consider  ourselves 
as  made  perfectly  righteous  throuf^li  the 
obedience  of  Christ  ;  to  receive  this  grand 
prerogative  without  performing  any  condi- 
tions ;  to  look  upon  all  our  sins  as  totally 
and  finally  done  away,  through  the  blood  of 
Jesus. 

Perhaps  you  will  ask.  Where  is  your  li- 
berty from  the  power  of  sin  ?  Does  not  this 
come  within  the  extent  of  your  charter? 
Most  certainly.  You  injure  our  doctrine, 
if  you  deny  it.  We  are  undone  irreparably, 
if  we  contnuie  destittUe  of  it.  Every  other 
immunity,  \\ithout  this  crowning  j)riviltge, 
would  be  like  the  magnificent  ualace  and 
the    beautiful    gardens    of    Pharaoh    while 


558 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


swarms   of  locusts  filled  them  with  their 
loathed  intrusion. 

But  observe,  Sir,  freedom  from  the  do- 
minion of  sin,  is  the  result  of  all  the  pre- 
ceding blessings.  By  revealing  these  in  our 
hearts,  and  Christ  the  author  of  them,  the 
Holy  Spirit  acts  as  the  Spirit  of  liberty. 
You  are  a  philospher  ;  you  understand  the 
theory  of  light.  From  the  association  of 
various  rays,  or  the  mixture  of  many  parent 
colours,  springs  that  first  of  elements,  and 
best  of  material  gifts,  light.  So  from  the 
luiion  and  united  enjoyment  of  all  those 
heavenly  treasures,  springs  that  most  de- 
sirable liberty,  the  "  liberty  of  righteous- 
ness." This  is  that  truth  which  makes  us 
free ;  this  is  that  knowledge  by  which  we 
are  renewed  after  the  image  of  him  that 
created  us ;  and  these  are  the  exceeding 
precious  promises  by  which  we  are  partak- 
ers of  the  divine  nature.  Hence  we  are 
taught  to  love  the  Lord  our  God,  and  to 
delight  in  his  adorable  perfections.  By  this 
means  they  look  with  a  smiling  aspect  upon 
«s,  and  are  unspeakably  amiable  to  us.  Un 
der  such  views,  we  say  of  sin,  we  say  of  all 
our  evil  and  corrupt  aifections,  "  Do  not  I 
hate  them,  O  Lord,  that  hate  thee  ?  And 
am  I  not  grieved  with  those  that  rise  up 
against  thee?  I  hate  them  with  a  perfect 
hatred  :   I  count  them  mine  enemies." 

"  Our  Saviour's  obedience."  This 
phrase  disgusts  Mr.  Wesley.  Therefore  he 
cries,  "  O  say  with  the  good  old  Puritans, 
our  Saviour's  death  and  merits."  Aspasio 
speaks  with  St.  Paul,  "  By  the  obedience 
of  one."  He  speaks  with  St.  Peter,  "  Faith 
in  the  righteousness  of  our  God  and  Savi- 
our." He  speaks  with  the  prophets  Isaiah 
and  Jeremiah,  "  In  the  Lord  have  I  righte- 
ousness ;"  and,  "  Jehovah  is  our  righteous- 
uess."  Having  these  precedents,  he  need 
not  be  very  solicitous  who  else  is  for  him, 
or  who  is  against  him. 

Though  not  very  solicitous  about  this 
matter,  he  is  somewhat  surprised  at  your 
vehement  address  ;  that  you  should  exhort 
him  so  earnestly  to  "  speak  with  the  good 
old  Puritans."  Has  not  your  printer  com 
mitted  a  mistake  ?  Did  not  the  clause  stand 
thus  in  your  manuscript  ?  "  With  my  good 
friends  the  Arminians."  They  indeed  dis- 
approve this  expression,  because  it  is,  when 
rightly  understood,  a  dagger  in  the  heart  of 
their  cause ;  but  as  to  the  Puritans,  they 
are,  one  and  all,  on  the  contrary  side  :  their 
language  is  in  perfect  unison  with  Aspa- 
sio's  ;  they  glory  in  the  meritorious  obedi- 
ence of  their  great  Mediator  ;  they  extol  his 
imputed  righteousness  in  almost  every  page, 
and  pour  contempt  upon  all  other  works 
compared  with  their  Lord's.  What  will 
not  an  author  affirm,  who  ventures  to  affirm 
or  insinuate  that  the  Puritan  writers  disuse 
this  manner  of  speakmg  !    For  my  part,   I 


know  not  any  set  of  writers  in  the  world  so 
eminently  remarkable  for  this  very  doctrine, 
and  this  very  diction.     I  said,  in   a  former 
letter,  we  would  inquire  into  this  particular;  5 
but  the   inquiry  is   quite   unnecessary.      Ili  1 
would  be  like  Uriel's  searching  for  the  sun,  i 
while  he  stands  in  its  orb,  and  is  surround-  ■ 
ed  with  its  lustre. 

"  We  swarm  with  Antinomians."  And 
we  must  swarm  with  persons  whose  hearts 
are  enmity  against  the  law  of  God,  so  long 
as  your  tenets  find  acceptance.  Who  can 
delight  in  a  law,  which  neither  has  been  nor  ■ 
can  be  fulfilled  by  them  ;  which  bears  wit- 
ness against  them,  and  is  the  ministration 
of  death  unto  them  ;  testifying,  like  the 
hand-writing  on  Belshazzar's  wall,  "  Thou 
art  weighed  in  the  balances,  and  found  want- 
ing?" Whereas,  when  we  see  it  fully  satis- 
fied on  our  behalf,  by  our  Surety's  obedi- 
ence ;  no  longer  denouncing  a  curse,  but 
pronouncing  us  blessed  ;  not  pursuing  us, 
like  the  avenger  of  blood,  but  opening  a 
city  of  refuge  for  the  safety  of  our  souls  :  ■' 
we  shall  then  be  reconciled  to  its  constitu-' 
tion  and  design  ;  we  shall  then  take  plea- 
sure in  its  precepts  aiui  prohibitions;  we 
shall  say  with  the  Psalmist,  "  Lord,  what 
love  have  I  unto  thy  law  !  All  the  day  long 
is  my  study  in  it." 

"  My  mouth  shall  shew  forth  thy  righte- 
ousness and  thy  salvation." — "  Thy  mercy 
which  brings  my  salvation,"  says  Mr.  Wes- 
ley, in  opposition  to  the  sense  assigned  by 
Aspasio  :  Which  sense  has  been  vindicat- 
ed already.  I  shall  therefore  not  renew  my 
arguments,  but  only  express  my  wonder. 

As  Mr.  Wesley  is  a  minister  of  the  gos- 
pel, I  wonder  that  he  should  studiously  set 
aside  what  is  the  peculiarity  and  glory  ot 
the  evangelical  revelation.  "  Mercy  which 
brings  salvation,"  is  what  an  unenlightened 
Jew  might  have  preached :  nay,  what  a 
more  ignorant  Heathen  might  have  taught ; 
but  salvation  through  a  divine  righteous- 
ness, as  the  adequate  and  meritorious  cause 
thereof,  is  the  distinguishing  doctrine,  and 
the  sovereign  excellency,  of  the  gospel. 

As  Mr.  Wesley  is  a  sinner,  I  wonder  he 
should  choose  to  weaken  the  foundation  of 
his  own  and  our  hope.  Why  mercy  alotie  9 
Is  it  not  better  to  put  our  trust  in  mercy, 
erecting  its  throne  on  a  propitiation,  and 
thence  holding  forth  the  golden  sceptre  ? 
By  the  obedience  of  Immanuel,  the  law  is 
satisfied  as  to  its  penalty,  is  fulfilled  as  to 
its  precept,  and  is  in  every  respect  unspeak- 
ably magnified.  This  shews  us  the  inex- 
haustible fountain  of  mercy  unsealed,  and 
every  obstruction  to  its  free  and  copious 
flow  removed. 

As  Mr.  AVesley  is  zealous  for  the  hon- 
our of  God,  I  wonder  he  should  not  pre- 
fer that  method  of  salvation,  by  which 
every  divine  attribute   is  most    abundantly 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


559 


glorified.  This  is  not  done  by  expecting 
])ardon  and  acceptance  from  mercy  alone  ; 
tnit  by  expecting  and  receiving  them  thi'ongh 
our  Redeemer's  ^righteousness  and  blood. 
Then  we  have  a  display,  not  only  of  infin- 
ite love,  but  of  inflexible  justice,  and  incom- 
prehensible wisdom.  Here  they  mingle 
their  beams,  and  shine  forlh  Avith  united 
and  eternal  s])]endour. 

Considering  these  things,  I  am  still  in- 
clined to  embrace  Aspasio's  interpretation 
of  this,  and  such  like  passages  of  Scrip- 
ture, wherein  salvation  is  ascribed  to  divine 
mercy  exercised  through  the  obedience  and 
death  of  Christ ;  which  gives  as  great  a 
heightening  to  the  blessing,  as  the  atmos- 
phere gives  to  the  rays  of  light,  or  as  the 
light  itself  imparts  to  the  scenes  of  creation. 

"  Those  divine  treasures  which  spring 
from  the  imputation  of  Clirist's  righteous- 
ness." "  Not  a  word  of  his  atoning 
blood."  I  wish  you  would  turn  back  to  As- 
pasio's definition  of  this  phrase,  as  it  is 
laid  down  at  the  beginning  of  the  confer- 
ence, to  be  the  groundwork  of  all  the  dia- 
logues and  of  all  the  letters.  You  will 
then  perceive  that  there  is  not  a  word  of 
this  kind  but  Christ's  atoning  blood  is  in- 
cluded in  it.  Without  this,  his  righteous- 
ness had  not  been  jierfect.  Without  this, 
his  righteousness  could  not  be  imputed. 
Some  people  have  a  treacherous  memory, 
and  really  forget  things  :  Others  have  a 
perverse  mind,  and  resolve  not  to  regard 
them.  Which  of  these  is  Mr.  Wesley's 
case,  I  presume  not  to  say  ;  let  his  own 
conscience  determine. 

It  is  true,  "  we  love  to  speak  of  the 
righteousness  of  Christ."  Yet  not  because 
"  it  affords  a  fairer  excuse  for  our  own  un- 
righteousness." For  indeed  it  affords  no 
excuse  at  all :  On  the  contrary,  it  renders 
unrighteousness  quite  inexcusable  ;  because 
it  yields  new  and  nobler  motives  to  all  holy 
obedience.  But  we  love  to  speak  of  the 
righteousness  of  Christ,  because  it  is  the 
most  comprehensive  expression,  and  the 
grandest  theme  in  the  world.  The  viost 
compreheiusive  expression  ;  us  it  denotes  ail 
that  he  has  done  and  suffered,  both  his  me- 
ritorious life  and  his  atoning  blood.  The 
yraiidt'M  theme  :  Consider  all  those  blessings 
which  have  been  vouchsafed  to  God's  peo- 
ple, before  our  Saviour  ajjpeared  on  earth  ; 
add  all  the  blessings  which  will  be  vouch- 
safed, until  the  consummation  of  all  things  : 
C'onsider  all  that  good  which  is  comprised 
in  a  deliverance  from  the  nethermost  hell  ; 
together  with  all  that  bliss  which  is  con- 
tained in  the  pleasures  and  glories  of  the 
heavenly  state  :  All  these  to  be  enjoyed 
through  a  boundless  eternity — and  by  mul- 
titudes of  redeemed  sinners,  numberless  as 
the  sands  upon  the  sea-shore.  Then  ask, 
what  is  the  procuring  cause  of  all?  Whence 


do  these  inestimable  benefits  proceed  .•"  From  ' 
the  righteousness,  the  sole  righteousness  of 
Jesus  Christ.  Is  it  not  then  worthy  to  be 
uppermost  in  onr  thoughts,  and  foremost  on 
our  tongues  ?  Might  not  the  very  stones  cry 
out,  and  reproach  our  insensibility,  if  vve 
did  not  love  to  talk  of  this  divinely  gracious 
righteousness  ? 

Faith  is  a  persuasion,  that  Christ  has 
shed  his  blood  J^r  me,  and  fulfilled  all  right- 
eousness in  mij  stead.  "  I  can  by  no  means 
subscribe  to  this  definition."  You  might 
very  safely  subscribe  to  this  definitioti,  if 
you  would  suffer  St.  Peter  to  speak  h's 
genuine  sentiments.  Describing  the  faith 
of  the  primitive  Christian,  he  calls  it  Il/yjw 
£v  iixttiotrvvti, — Faith  in  the  righteousness. 
He  says  nothingof  the  atoning  blood  :  Rut 
does  he  therefore  exclude  it?  He  speaks  of 
nothing  but  the  justifying  righteousness  : 
And  will  you  totally  discard  it  ?  It  is  the 
central  point  in  his  faith,  and  shall  it  have 
no  place  wi  yours?  Riyltteousness,  he  assures 
us,  was  the  object  of  the  believer's  faith, 
even  the  righteousness  "  of  our  God  and 
Saviour  .Tesus  Christ."  But  how  could 
this  be  the  object  of  their  faith,  if  it  was 
not  fulfilled  in  their  stead  ?  Or  how  could 
they  truly  believe  in  this  righteousness, 
if  they  did  not  regard  it  as  performed  for 
them,  and  imjnited  to  them  ? 

"  There  are  hundreds,  yea  thousands,  of 
true  believers,  who  never  once  thought,  one 
way  or  the  other,  of  Christ's  fulfilling  all 
righteousness  in  their  stead."  Then  their 
faith  is  like  the  sight  of  the  person  who 
saw  men  as  trees  walking.  He  saw  them, 
indeed,  but  very  dimly,  indistinctly,  con- 
fusedly. And  it  is  pity  but  they  were  more 
thoroughly  instructed  unto  the  kingdom  of 
God.  Not  one  of  those  thousands,  pro- 
vided he  fixes  his  hope  wholly  upon  the 
merits  of  Christ,  would  reject  this  delight- 
ful truth,  if  it  was  offered  with  scriptural 
evidence  to  his  understanding.  Reject  it  ! 
No,  surely.  He  would  joyfully  embnice  it, 
if  ottered,  with  that  single  but  undeniable 
evidence,  "  Christ  was  made  sin  for  us, 
though  he  knew  no  sin,  that  we  might  be 
made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  Inm." 

"  You  personally  know  many,  who  to 
this  hour  have  no  idea  of  Christ's  righteous- 
ness." Surely,  then,  it  behoves  you,  as  a 
lover  of  souls,  and  as  an  ambassador  of 
Christ,  to  teach  them  the  way  of  God  moie 
perfectly.  So  doing,  you  will  be  employed 
much  more  suitably  to  your  function,  and 
much  more  profitably  to  your  brethren,  than 
in  your  present  attem])t ;  by  which  you 
would  weaken  the  hands,  and  defeat  the 
design?,  of  those  who  endeavour  to  spread 
abroad  the  savour  of  this  knowledge  in 
every  place  ;  anil  who,  notwithstanding  all 
that  you  personally  know,  must  unalterably 
persist  in  their  method  ;  which  is,  to  regu- 


560 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


late  their  definition  of  fuith,  not  by  the  state 
of  your  supposed  believers,  but  Iiy  the  ex- 
press declaration  of  the  unerring  word. 
And  from  this  they  have  authority  to  main- 
tain, that  faith  in  the  imputed  righteousness 
of  Christ  is  a  fundamental  principle  to  every 
believer  who  understands  upon  what  found- 
ation he  is  saved. 

These  your  acquaintance,  though  they 
have  no  idea  of  Christ's  righteousness,  yet 
"  have  each  of  them  a  divine  evidence  and 
conviction, —  Christ  loved  me,  and  gave 
himself  for  me."  In  this  case,  do  not  you 
take  rather  too  much  upon  you  ?  Have  you 
then  the  apostolical  gift  of  discerning  spirits? 
If  not,  it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  know 
the  man,  exclusive  of  yourself,  who  is  cer- 
tainly possessed  of  this  divine  evidence. 
You  may  form  a  charitable  judgment  or  a 
prevailing  hope  ;  which  seems  to  be  the 
utmost  you  can  warrantably  claim  with  regard 
to  others.  And  while  you  entertani  this 
hope,  we  shall  allow  it  to  indicate  the  be- 
nevolence of  your  heart,  but  cannot  admit 
it  as  a  proof  of  your  point,  "  That  people 
may  be  full  of  faith  and  love,  yet  have  no 
idea  of  Christ's  righteousness."  We  would 
also  caution  you  to  take  heed,  lest,  through 
an  immoderate  fondness  for  increasing  the 
number  of  your  converts,  you  are  led  to 
deceive  yourself  and  others ;  registering 
those  as  real  believers,  whom  the  Lord  hath 
not  registered.  By  this  means,  you  may 
be  confirmed  in  your  unscriptural  notion, 
that  the  righteous  fall  away  and  the  faithful 
apostatize  :  whereas,  they  who  fall  away 
were  righteous  only  in  appearance,  and  they 
who  apostatize  were  no  otherwise  than  pro- 
fessionally faithful.  What  you  see  drop 
from  the  sky  is  not  a  star,  but  a  meteor  only. 

Faith  is  the  hand  which  receives  all  that 
is  laid  up  in  Christ.  Aspasio  expresses 
himself  thus  :  "  Christ  is  a  storehouse  of 
all  good."  AVhatever  is  necessary  to  re- 
move our  guilt,  whatever  is  ex])edient  for 
renewing  our  nature,  whatever  is  proper  to 
fit  us  for  the  eternal  fruition  of  God — all 
this  is  laid  up  in  Christ ;  and  all  this  is  re- 
ceived by  faith,  for  our  apjjlication,  use,  and 
enjoyment.  To  this  Mr.  Wesley  subjoins 
a  word  of  objection,  but  not  in  due  season. 
Aspasio  is  displaying  the  efficacy  of  faith; 
Mr.  Wesley's  argument  is  levelled  against 
the  indefectibility  of  faith.  However,  as  it 
is  your  favourite  objection,  it  shall  not  be 
treated  as  an  intruder.  "  If  we  make  ship- 
wreck of  the  faith,  how  much  soever  is  laid 
up  in  Christ,  from  that  hour  we  receive  no- 
thing." 

Have  you  never  heard  of  the  answer 
which  the  Spartan  states  returned  to  an  in- 
solent and  barbarous  embassy  from  Philip 
of  Macedon  ?  You  may  read  it  in  the  book 
you  are  censuring,  and  may  receive  it  as  a 
iej)ly  to  this  and  your  other  surmises  of  this 


nature.  It  was  all  comprised  in  that  single 
monosyllable  if.  A  mere  professor  may 
make  shipwreck  of  the  doctrine  of  faith  ;  a 
true  believer  does  not  make  shipwreck  of 
the  grace  of  faith  :  No,  nor  ever  will,  un- 
less Christ's  intercession  be  made  of  none  ef- 
fect, "  I  have  prayed,  that  such  faith  fail  not." 

Aspasio,  describing  the  dreadful  nature 
of  the  command  given  to  Abraham,  says,. 
"  Thy  hands  must  lift  the  deadly  weapon  ; 
thy  hands  must  point  it  to  the  beloved 
breast ;  thy  own  hands  must  urge  its  way 
through  the  gushing  veins  and  the  shivering 
flesh,  till  it  be  plunged  in  the  throbbing 
heart." — "  Are  not  these  descriptions  far 
too  strong?"  This  is  submitted  to  the 
judgment  of  the  reader.  I  would  only  ob- 
serve, that  the  more  strongly  the  horrors  of  the . 
tremendous  deed  are  represented,  the  more 
striking  will  the  difficulty  of  the  duty  appear ; 
consequently,  the  more  efficacious  and  tri- 
umphant the  power  of  faith.  "  May  not 
these  descriptions  occasion  unprofitable  rea- 
sonings in  many  readers  ?"  What  unprofit- 
able reasonings  may  be  occasioned,  I  do  not 
pretend  to  guess  ;  but  the  just  and  natural 
reflection  arising  from  the  consideration  of 
such  a  circumstance  is,  "  What  has  faith 
wrought  ?  It  purifies  and  exalts  the  affec- 
tions ;  it  invigorates  and  ennobles  the  soul ; 
makes  it  bold  to  undertake,  and  strong  to 
execute,  every  great  and  heroic  work;  I  see, 
therefore,  it  is  not  in  vain  that  the  Scripture 
so  frequently  inculcates  faith,  lays  so  re- 
markable a  stress  upon  faith,  and  places  it 
in  the  very  front  of  all  Christian  duties." 
"  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the 
world,"  overcometh  self,  overcometh  all 
things. 

"  How  could  he  (Abraham)  justify  it  to 
the  world?  Not  at  all."  True  ;  not  to  the 
unbelieving  world.  They  will  argue,  as 
Mr.  Wesley  on  another  occasion  :  "  What ! 
stab  his  son,  his  best  beloved,  his  only  son, 
to  the  heart?  Could  the  God  of  goodness 
command  such  a  piece  of  barbarity  ?  Im- 
possible !  I  could  sooner  be  a  Deist,  yea, 
an  Athiest,  than  I  could  believe  this.  It  is 
less  absurd  to  deny  the  veiy  being  of  a  God, 
than  to  make  him  an  almighty  tyrant."  But 
to  the  believing  world,  who  fear  the  Lord, 
and  hearken  to  the  voice  of  his  servants, 
Abraham's  conduct  will  never  stand  in  need 
of  a  vindication.  By  them  it  will  be  high- 
ly extolled,  and  greatly  admired.  It  will 
be  an  undeniable  demonstration  of  the  rea- 
lity and  sincerity  of  his  faith,  of  its  very  su- 
perior elevation  and  invincible  strength. 

"  You  take  the  direct  and  certain  way  to 
obtain  substantial  comfort.  The  righteous- 
ness of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  after  which 
you  inquire,  about  which  you  are  solicitou.s, 
is  a  never-failing  source  of  consolation." 
Thus  Aspasio  writes  to  Theron.  "  What ! 
without  the  atonement?"  cries  Mr.  Wes- 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


561 


ley.  To  vvliicli  he  adds,  in  a  following  par- 
nf;rapli,  "  So  tlie  death  of  Christ  is  not  so 
much  as  named."  This  puts  me  in  mind  of 
an  objection,  no  very  formidable  one,  made 
M^'ainst  that  introductory  exhortation  to  the 
("ommon  Prayer,  "Dearly  beloved  bre- 
thren." So,  then,  said  a  candid  examiner, 
irnmen  have  no  part  in  your  worsliip ;  they 
are  not  so  much  as  named.  But  I  forbear. 
If  you  arc  not  ashamed  of  repeating,  I  am 
ashamed  of  refuting,  so  frequently  refuting, 
such  an  empty  cavil  ;  and  1  believe  the 
reader  is  tired  with  us  both. 

I  liave  no  great  objection  to  yonr  altera- 
tion of  Aspasio's  connnent.  Suppose  we 
conii)romise  matters,  and  consider  the  oil 
jioured  on  Aaron's  head,  and  emptying  it- 
self from  Zechariah's  olive-tree,  as  tyj)ical 
both  of  the  merits  and  the  Spirit  of  Christ ; 
which,  like  light  and  heat  in  the  sun,  are 
indissolubly  connected  ;  or,  to  make  use  of 
a  sacred  illustration,  are  like  the  living 
creatures  and  the  wheels  in  Ezekiel's  vi- 
sion :  "  When  the  living  creatures  went, 
the  wheels  went  by  them  ;  when  the  living 
creatures  were  lift  up  from  tlie  earth,  the 
wheels  were  lift  up."  AV'hither  soever  the 
former  were  to  go,  the  latter  went  also. 
For  the  sake  of  obliging  Mr.  Wesley,  I  call 
this  a  compromise.  13ut  if  he  can  prevail 
on  himself  to  read  the  paraphrase  on  the 
two  passages  without  prepossession,  he  will 
find  this  association  of  senses  anticipated  by 
Aspasio. 

"  Has  the  law  any  demand  ?"  says  Aspa- 
sio :  "  It  must  go  to  Christ  for  satisfac- 
tion." From  which  you  draw  this  injur- 
ious consequence,  "  Then  I  am  not  obliged 
to  love  my  neighbour  :  Christ  has  satisfied 
the  demand  of  the  law  for  me.''  This  ob- 
jection has  already  received  an  answer. 

I  shall  therefore  content  myself  with 
shewing  why  I  call  your  conclusion  injur- 
ious ;  because,  like  the  deaf  adder,  it  stop- 
peth  the  ear  against  my  own  explication  of 
my  own  phrase.  A  note  is  added,  on  pur- 
pose to  limit  its  sense,  and  obviate  your 
misrej)rescntation.  This  you  totally  disre- 
gard, and  argue  as  if  no  such  precaution  was 
used.  The  note  informs  you,  that  the  law, 
the  commanding  law,  is  satisliod  with  no- 
thing less  than  perfect  obedience  ;  and  the 
bri>ken  law  insists  upon  condign  punish- 
ment. Now,  if  it  nuist  not,  for  satisfaction 
to  both  these  demands,  go  to  Christ  our  di- 
vine husband,  where  will  it  obtain  any  such 
thing?  Who  is  aljle  to  give  it  among  all 
the  children  of  Adam  ? 

However,  lest  we  offend,  needlessly  of- 
fend any  reader,  I  promise,  that  in  case  the 
providence  of  God,  and  the  fa\our  of  the 
j)ublic,  call  for  a  new  edition,  Aspasio  shall 
alter  his  language.  Thus  the  jjaragraph 
shall  stand  :  "  Does  the  law  demand  jjcrfect 
purity  of  nature,  and   ])erfect  obedience  of 


life  ?  It  must  go  to  liim  for  satisfaction. 
Do  we  want  grace,  and  glory,  and  every 
good  gift?  We  may  look  to  him  for  a  sup- 
ply ;  to  biin,  in  whom  it  hath  pleased  the 
Father,  that  all  fulness  should  dwell." 

"  For  all  his  peo])le. "  With  this  phrase 
Mr.  AV'esley  is  chagrined.  This  he  will 
not  suffer  to  pass  without  animadversion  ; 
though  he  must  know,  if  prejudice  has  not 
blinded  his  understanding,  that  it  is  pure 
Scripture.  Why  does  he  not  shew  the 
same  dissatisfaction  with  the  angel  that  ap- 
peared unto  Joseph,  and  with  Zeehariah, 
the  Baptist's  father  ?  The  former  of  whom 
says,  "  He  shall  save  his  people  from  their 
sins."  The  latter  declares,  "  He  shall  give 
knowledge  of  salvation  unto  his  people,  by 
the  remission  of  their  sins."  Why  does  he 
not  put  the  same  question  unto  them,  and 
draw  the  same  inference  upon  them  ?  "  But 
what  becomes  of  all  other  people  ?"  Some- 
times Sir.  Wesley  is  so  attached  to  the 
Scriptures,  that  nothing  will  please  him  but 
scriptural  expressions.  Here  he  is  so  wed- 
ded to  self-opinion,  that  even  scriptural  ex- 
pressions will  not  pass  current,  when  they 
seem  to  thwart  his  own  notions. 

"  For  all  his  people." — From  this  ex- 
pression, though  used  by  a  prophet,  author- 
ized by  an  angel,  and  to  be  found  in  many 
places  of  Scripture,  Mr.  Vv'esley  deduces 
some  very  offensive  and  dreadful  conse- 
quences ;  so  dreadful,  that  he  "  would 
sooner  be  a  Turk,  a  Deist,  yea  an  Athiest, 
than  he  could  believe  them."  My  dear  Sir, 
let  me  give  you  a  word  of  friendly  advice, 
before  you  turn  Turk,  or  Deist,  or  Athiest : 
See  that  you  first  become  an  honest  man. 
They  will  all  disown  you,  if  you  go  over  to 
their  party  destitute  of  common  honesty. 

Methinks  I  hear  you  saying,  with  some 
emotion.  What  do  you  mean  by  this  advice  ? 
or  what  relation  has  this  to  the  subject  of 
our  present  inquiry  ? — A  pretty  near  rela- 
tion. Out  of  zeal  to  demolish  the  doctrine 
of  election,  you  scruple  not  to  overleap  the 

bounds  of  integrity  and  truth Mysterious 

still !  I  know  not  what  you  aim  at. — Then 
be  pleased  to  review  a  passage  in  your  book 
on  Original  Sin ;  where  you  have  thought 
proper  to  make  a  quotation  from  my  Dia- 
logues. It  relates  to  that  great  doctrine  of 
the  gospel,  ("hrist  becoming  the  representa- 
tive and  federal  head  of  siimcrs.  Upon 
this  occasion  Asj)asio  says,  "  As  Adam  was 
a  jjublic  person,  and  acted  in  the  stead  of  all 
mankind,  so  Christ  was  a  public  person,  and 
acted  in  behalf  of  all  his  people.  As  Adam 
was  the  first  general  representative  of  this 
kind,  Christ  was  the  second  and  last."  Here 
you  substitute  the  word  viavMml  instead  of 
litis  hind ;  and  thereby  lead  the  reader  to 
suppose,  that  Aspasio  considers  our  glori- 
ous Representative  as  standing  in  this  ca- 
pacity to  the  whole  human  race ;  than 
2o 


562 


LETTERS    ro  THE 


which  nothing  can  be  more  injiuious  to  the 
sense  of  his  words. 

I  at  first  thought  it  might  possibly  be  the 
effect  of  inadvertency ;  but  could  a  person 
of  Mr.  Wesley's  discernment  allow  himself 
to  nod  over  a  passage,  which  he  knew  to  be 
of  a  criticiil  and  controverted  import  ?  Per- 
haps it  might  be  the  printer's  fault,  an  error 
of  the  press.  I  would  willingly  have  ad- 
mitted one  of  these  extenuating  circum- 
stances, till  I  came  to  the  bottom  of  the 
page ;  where,  to  my  great  astonishment,  I 
found  the  following  words,  enclosed  within 
the  marks  of  the  same  quotation,  and  as- 
cribed to  Aspasio  :  "  All  these  expressions 
demonstrate,  that  Adam  (as  well  as  Christ) 
was  a  representative  of  all  mankind."  Then 
I  could  no  longer  forbear  crying  out, 
"  There  is  treachery,  O  Ahaziah  !"  A  false 
quotation,  not  made  only,  but  repeated, 
cannot  be  owing  to  negligence,  but  must 
proceed  from  design ;  and  this,  I  should 
think,  can  never  be  defended,  no,  nor  with 
a  good  grace  excused,  by  Mr.  Wesley's  most 
devoted  admirers.  A  studious  alteration  of 
our  words,  and  an  evident  perversion  of  their 
meaning,  are  defensible  by  no  arguments, 
are  excusable  on  no  occasion. 

"  Quite  inexcusable  this  practice."  And 
is  not  your  language  equally  offensive  ?  Is 
not  your  conclusion  very  precipitate,  when 
you  suppose  Aspasio,  though  using  the 
words  of  Scripture,  yet  representing  God  as 
"  an  almighty  tyrant  ?"  Surely  you  had 
better  forbear  such  horrid  aiYd  shocking  ex- 
pressions ;  especially  as  you  cannot  deny, 
that  many  passages  in  Scripture  seem  at 
least  to  countenance  this  obnoxious  tenet ; 
as  you  very  well  know,  that  many  persons 
eminent  for  their  learning,  and  exemplary 
in  their  lives,  have  written  in  defence  of  it, 
and  bled  for  the  confirmation  of  it ; — as  we 
have  proofs  more  than  a  few,  that  you  are 
far  from  being  infallible  in  your  judgment, 
yea,  far  from  being  invaiiable  in  your  opi- 
nion— witness  your  former  notions  of  ma- 
trimony— witness  the  character  you  former- 
ly gave  of  the  Moravian  Brethren,  and  the 
esteem  which  you  once  had  for  the  mystics 
and  their  writings.  Considering  yourself, 
therefore,  it  would  better  become  you  to  be 
diffident  on  such  a  subject,  and  say,  "  That 
which  I  know  not,  Lord,  teach  thou  me." 
And  I  imagine  it  can  never  become  you,  on 
any  subject  whatever,  to  break  out  into  such 
language  as  ought  not  to  be  named  among 
Christians  ;  ought  to  have  no  place  but  in 
the  bottomless  pit.  This  is  an  admointion, 
which,  while  I  suggest  to  you,  Sk,  I  charge 
on  myself. 

The  three  following  paragraphs  relate  to 
a  doctrine,  which  you  are  fond  to  attack, 
and  which  Aspasio  studiously  declines.  It 
constitutes  no  part  of  his  plan.  It  forms 
not  so  much  as   the  outworks.      Be  it  de- 


molished or  established,  the  grand  privilege, 
and  the  invaluable  blessing  of  justification 
through  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  remains 
unshaken,  stands  immovable.  In  applying 
this  to  ourselves,  we  proceed  neither  upon 
universal  nor  particular  redemption,  but  on- 
ly upon  the  divine  grant  and  the  divine  in- 
vitation. We  assure  ourselves  of  present 
and  eternal  salvation  through  this  perfect 
righteousness,  not  as  persons  elected,  but  as 
persons  warranted  by  the  word  of  God, 
bound  by  the  command  of  God,  and  led  by 
the  Spirit  of  God.  Therefore,  while  you 
are  encountering  this  doctrine,  I  would  be 
looking  unto  Jesus  ;  be  viewing  the  glory  of 
my  Lord ;  contemplating  his  perfection, 
and  my  own  completeness  in  him. 

If  I  divert,  for  a  moment,  from  this  de- 
lightful object,  it  is  only  to  touch  upon  one 
of  your  remonstrances.  You  suppose,  that 
according  to  the  Calvinistic  scheme,  God 
denies  what  is  necessary  for  present  com- 
fort and  final  acceptance,  even  to  some  who 
sincerely  seek  it.  This  is  contrary  to 
Scripture,  and  no  less  contrary  to  the  doc- 
trine of  your  opponents.  However,  to  con- 
firm yourself  in  this  misapprehension,  you 
ask,  "  Would  you  deny  it  to  any,  if  it  were 
in  your  power  ?"  To  shew  the  error  of 
such  a  sentiment,  and  the  fallacy  of  such 
reasoning,  I  shall  just  mention  a  recent 
melancholy  fact. 

News  is  brought,  that  the  Prince  George 
man-of-war.  Admiral  Broderick's  own 
ship,  is  bunit,  and  sunk,  and  above  four 
hundred  souls  that  were  on  board  are  per- 
ished. Six  hours  the  flames  prevailed, 
while  every  means  was  used  to  preserve 
the  ship  and  crew  ;  but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose. In  the  mean  time,  shjieks  and 
groans,  bitter  moanings,  and  piercing  cries, 
were  heard  from  every  quarter.  Raving, 
despair,  and  even  madness,  presented  them- 
selves in  a  variety  of  forms.  Some  ran  to 
and  fro,  distracted  with  terror,  not  knowing 
what  they  did,  or  what  they  should  do. 
Others  jumped  overboard  from  all  parts  ; 
and  to  avoid  the  pursuit  of  one  death,  leap- 
ed into  the  jaws  of  another.  Those  un- 
happy wretches  who  could  not  swim  were 
obliged  to  remain  upon  the  wreck,  though 
flakes  of  fii'e  fell  on  their  bodies.  Soon  the 
masts  went  away,  and  killed  numbers. 
Those  who  were  not  killed,  thought  them- 
selves happy  to  get  upon  the  floating  tim- 
ber. Nor  j'Ct  were  they  safe  ;  for,  the  fire 
having  communicated  itself  to  the  guns, 
which  were  loaded  and  shotted,  they  swept 
multitudes  from  this  their  last  refuge. 
What  say  you.  Sir,  to  this  dismal  narrative  ? 
Does  not  your  heart  bleed  ?  Would  you 
have  stood  by,  and  denied  your  succour,  if 
it  had  been  in  your  power  to  help  ?  Would 
not  you  have  done  your  utmost  to  prevent 
the  fatal  catastrophe  ?      Yet  the  Lord  sasv 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


563 


tliifl  extreme  distress.  Pie  heard  their  pit- 
eous moans.  He  was  able  to  save  them, 
yet  withdrew  his  assistance.  Now,  because 
you  would  gladly  have  succoured  them  if 
you  could,  and  God  Almighty  could,  but 
would  not  send  them  aid ;  will  you  there- 
fore conclude,  that  you  are  above  your 
Lord,  and  that  your  loving-kindness  is 
greater  than  his  ?  I  will  not  olfer  to  charge 
any  such  consequence  upon  you.  I  am 
persuaded  you  abhor  the  thought. 

"  The  wedding  garment  here  means  ho- 
liness." Thus  saying,  you  depart  from 
Bengelius,  for  whom  you  profess  so  high  a 
regard.  Bengelius  overlooks  your  ex])osi- 
tion,  and  gives  his  vote  for  Aspasio's  hac 
vestis  estjusdtia  Christi.  Awed  by  so  ven- 
erable an  authority,  you  have  not  ventured 
to  exclude  this  sense  from  your  comment. 
You  have  admitted  it  into  your  Expository 
Notes,  yet  will  not  allow  Aspasio  to  admit 
it  into  his  discourse  with  Theron.  These 
are  your  words  ;  "  The  wedding  garment, 
that  is,  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  first 
imputed,  then  implanted."  Which,  by  the 
way,  is  not  perfectly  accurate,  nor  accord- 
ing to  the  language  of  the  gospel.  The 
gospel  distinguishes  between  the  righteous- 
ness of  Christ,  and  our  own  righteousness. 
That  which  is  imputed,  goes  under  the  for- 
mer, that  which  is  implanted,  under  the  lat- 
ter denomination. 

However,  let  us  consider  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  and  we  shall  find,  that 
our  common  favourite  Bengelius  has  pro- 
bability and  reason  on  his  side.  The  guests 
mentioned  in  this  parable  consisted  of  poor 
outcasts,  collected  from  the  highways  and 
hedges.  Now  we  cannot  suppose,  that 
people  in  such  a  condition,  and  coming  at  a 
minute's  warning,  should  be  able  to  furnish 
themselves  with  a  dress  of  their  own  suita- 
ble to  the  grand  occasion.  Here  then  per- 
sonal holiness  is  put  out  of  the  question. 
But  we  must  supj)Ose,  (which  is  conforma- 
ble to  the  eastern  customs),  that  the  king 
had  ordered  his  servants  to  accommodate 
each  guest  from  the  royal  wardrobe ;  that 
each  might  have  this  additional  token  of  his 
sovereign's  favour,  and  all  might  be  arrayed 
in  a  manner  becoming  the  magnificent  so- 
lemnity. This  exactly  con-esponds  with 
the  nature  of  imputed  righteousness. 

Farther,  the  bancjuet,  you  will  readily  al- 
low, is  the  pardon  of  sin,  and  peace  with 
God,  the  divine  Spirit,  and  eternal  life. 
From  all  which  uniting  their  happy  influ- 
ence, true  holiness  springs.  To  say  that 
holines.i  is  the'wedding  garment  necessary 
for  our  introduction  to  this  banquet,  sa\  ours 
of  absurdity  ;  like  saying,  holiness  is  neces- 
sary to  holiness.  It  is  absolute  legality  ; 
for  it  makes  the  performance  of  all  duties 
the  way  to  the  Redeemer's  grace  :  It  im- 
plies an  absolute  impossibility  ;  the  sinner 


that  can  exercise  holiness  before  he  receives 
Christ  and  his  Spirit,  is  like  the  dead  man 
who  arises  and  walks  before  he  is  restored 
to  life. 

The  grand  end  which  God  proposes  in 
all  his  Ikvourable  dispensations  to  fallen 
man,  is  to  demonstrate  the  sovereignty  of 
his  grace.  "  Not  so."  Do  you  mean,  As- 
jjasio  has  not  spoken  so  ?  that  you  have 
misrepresented  his  sense  ?  have  clipped  and 
disfigured  his  coin  ?  If  this  is  your  mean- 
ing, you  speak  an  undoubted  truth.  His 
words  are,  "  To  demonstrate  the  sovereign- 
ty, and  advance  the  glory  of  his  grace." 
Why  did  you  suppress  the  last  clause  ?  Was 
you  afraid  it  would  supply  the  deficiency 
which  you  charge  on  Aspasio,  and  express 
the  idea  of  imparting  happiness  ?  If  so, 
your  fears  are  just  enough.  Why  did  you 
not  take  into  consideration  those  texts  of 
Scripture  with  which  Aspasio  confirms  his 
tenet  ?  Ought  you  not  to  have  overthrown 
those  testimonies  before  you  deny  his  doc- 
trine ?  otherwise  you  oppose  your  own  au- 
thority to  the  decision  of  a  prophet  and  of 
an  apostle. 

"  Not  so,"  proceeds  Mr.  AVesley :  "  To 
impart  happiness  to  his  creatures  is  his 
grand  end  herein."  The  devout  prophet 
speaks  othenvise,  "  I  have  created  him  for 
my  glory."  The  wise  moralist  speaks 
otherwise,  "  The  Lord  hath  created  all 
things  for  himself."  The  holy  apostle 
speaks  otherwise,  "  To  the  praise  of  the 
glory  of  his  grace."  From  which,  and  from 
innumerable  other  places  of  Scripture  ;  fi  om 
the  reason  of  the  thing,  and  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  Su])reme  Being,  it  appears, 
that  the  primaiy  leading  aim,  in  all  God's 
works,  and  all  God's  dispensations,  is  his 
own  glory.  The  felicity  of  his  cieatures, 
though  not  separated  from  it,  though  evi- 
dently included  in  it,  is  still  subordinate  to 
it.  And  surely  it  is  veiy  meet  and  right  so 
to  be.  Can  there  be  a  nobler  end,  or  more 
worthy  of  an  infinitely  wise  agent,  than  the 
display  of  those  sublime  perfections,  for 
which,  and  through  which,  and  to  which, 
are  all  things  ?  Could  God  make  any  other 
being  the  ])rincipal  end  of  his  acting,  he 
would  undeify  himself,  and  give  his  glory 
to  another.  Does  any  creature  imagine  his 
own  happiness  to  be  a  higher  end  than  the 
divine  glory  ?  He  thereby  usurps  the  God- 
head, making,  as  far  as  in  him  lies,  Jehovah 
the  subject  and  himself  the  sovereign. 

"  Barely  to  demonstrate  his  sovereignty." 
The  word  harthj  is  not  used  by  Aspasio. 
But  it  gives  another  specimen  of  Mr.  Wes- 
ley's integrity  in  staling  truth,  and  doing 
justice  to  his  opponents.  It  is  not  said,  the 
sole,  but  the  grand  end.  Therefore,  would 
any  unprejudiced  person  conclude,  there 
must  be  some  other,  though  inferior  purpose. 
"  No,"  says  Mr.  Wesley  ;  "hence  I  infer, 


564 


LETTERS  TO  THE 


that  it  was  barely  to  demonstrate  his  sove- 
reignty." Do  you  so  ?  Then  your  inference 
is  of  a  piece  with  the  quotation — that  as 
valid  as  this  is  faithful. 

"  Barely  to  demonstrate  his  sovereignty," 
is  a  principle  of  action  fit  for  the  great 
Turk,  not  for  the  most  high  God.  Such 
a  fraudulent  quotation  I  have  not  often  seen, 
no,  not  in  the  critical  reviewers.  To  mark 
the  sentence  with  commas,  and  thereby  as- 
sign it  to  Aspasio,  is  really  a  masterpiece, 
especially  after  you  have  thrust  in  the  word 
barely,  and  lopped  off  the  word  grace.  You 
have  treated  the  passage  worse  than  Nahash, 
king  of  Ammon,  treated  the  ambassadors  of 
David.  They  were  ashamed  to  show  their 
faces,  under  such  marks  of  abuse  and  dis- 
grace. I  am  no  less  ashamed  of  the  clause, 
as  you  have  mangled  and  disguised  it :  But 
restore  it  to  its  true  state ;  let  it  wear  its 
native  aspect ;  then  see  what  is  blamable, 
or  what  is  offensive  in  it. 

The  grand  end  which  God  proposes  in 
all  his  favourable  dispensations  to  fallen 
man,  is,  to  demonstrate  the  sovereignty,  and 
advance  the  glory  of  his  grace.  The  glory, 
that  it  may  appear  rich,  unbounded,  and  in- 
finitely surpassing  all  we  can  wish  or  ima- 
gine- The  sovereignty,  that  ic  may  appear 
free,  undeserved,  and  absolutely  independent 
on  any  goodness  in  the  creature.  That 
sinners  may  receive  it,  without  waiting  for 
any  amiable  qualities,  or  performing  any 
recommending  conditions.  That,  when  re- 
ceived, it  may  stop  the  mouth  of  boasting, 
may  cut  off  all  pretensions  of  personal  merit, 
and  teach  every  tongue  to  say,  "  Not  unto 
us,  O  Lord,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  thy  name 
be  the  praise." 

And  should  we  not  gi-eatly  rejoice  in  this 
method  of  the  divine  procedure  ?  that  the 
Lord  orders  all  things  relating  to  our  salva- 
tion, "  to  the  praise  of  the  glory  of  his 
grace  ?"  Can  any  thing  be  more  honourable 
to  our  nature,  or  more  transporting  to  our 
souls  ?  Can  any  thing  so  finnly  establish, 
or  so  highly  exalt  our  hopes  ?  Angels, 
principalities,  and  powers  !  all  intellectual 
creatures,  in  all  ages  and  all  worlds,  are  to 
look  unto  us  ;  unto  us  men  they  are  to  look, 
for  the  most  consummate  display  of  God's 
grace.  Our  exaltation  and  felicity  are  to 
be  the  mirror,  in  which  the  wondering  che- 
rubim and  seraphim  will  contemplate  the 
superabundant  goodness  of  Jehovah.  How 
great  must  that  honour  and  that  happiness 
be,  which  are  intended  to  exhibit  the  fullest, 
fairest,  brightest  view  of  God's  infinitely 
glorious  grace  !  How  sure  must  that  honour 
and  hap])iness  be,  which  are  so  intimately 
connected  with  the  glory  of  the  omnipotent 
King  !  which  can  no  more  fail  of  their  ac- 
complishment, than  the  amiable  attributes 
of  the  Godhead  can  be  stripped  of  their 
lustre. 


God  is  a  boundless  ocean  of  good.  "  Nay, 
that  ocean  is  far  from  boundless,  if  it  wholly 
passes  by  nine-tenths  of  mankind."  What ! 
if  it  had  passed  by  all  mankind,  as  it  cer- 
tainly did  all  the  devils,  would  it  have  been 
the  less  boundless  on  that  account  ?  I  wish, 
methinks,  you  would  study  the  evil  of  sin 
more,  and  not  so  frequently  obtrude  upon 
us  a  subject,  of  which  neither  you  nor  I 
seem  to  be  masters.  Then  we  should  nei- 
ther have  hard  thoughts  of  God,  nor  high 
thoughts  of  ourselves. 

"  You  cannot  suppose  God  would  enter 
into  a  fresh  covenant  with  an  insolvent  and 
attainted  creature."*  These  are  Aspasio's 
words.  To  which  Mr.  Wesley  replies,  "  I 
both  suppose  and  know  he  did."  Satis  cum 
imperio.  Then  be  pleased.  Sir,  to  show  us 
where  the  Almighty  entered  into  a  covenant 
with  fallen  Adam  ;  for  of  him  we  are  speak- 
ing. Produce  the  original  deed ;  at  least 
favour  us  with  a  transcript ;  and  we  will 
take  your  word  when  it  is  backed  with  such 
authority. 

God  made  the  new  covenant  with  Christ, 
and  charged  him  with  the  performance  of 
the  conditions.  "  I  deny  both  these  asser- 
tions." And  what  is  your  reason  for  this 
denial  ?  Is  it  deduced  from  Scripture  ? 
Nothing  like  it.  Is  it  founded  on  the  na- 
ture of  things?  No  attempt  is  made  to- 
wards it.  But  you  yourself  affirm,  that 
tl)ese  "  assertions  are  the  central  point 
wherein  Calvinism  and  Antinomianism 
meet."  Or,  in  other  words,  they  tend  to 
establish  what  you  dislike,  and  to  overthrow 
what  you  have  taught.  This  is  all  the  cause 
which  you  assign  for  your  denial.  I  cannot 
but  wish,  that,  whenever  I  engage  in  con- 
troversy, my  adversary  may  be  fmiiished 
with  such  arguments. 

You  deny  the  assertions  now ;  but  do  not 
you  forget  what  you  allovyed  and  maintain- 
ed a  little  while  ago,  when  you  yourself, 
adopting  a  passage  from  Theron  and  Aspa- 
sio, called  Christ  "  a  federal  head  ?"  Pray, 
what  is  a  federal  head,  but  a  person  with 
whom  a  covenant  is  made  in  behalf  of  him- 
self and  others  ?  Here  your  judgment  was 
according  to  truth.  Fit,  perfectly  fit  for 
such  an  office  is  Christ ;  whose  life  is  all 
his  own,  who  is  able  to  merit,  and  mighty 
to  save.  But  absolutely  unfit  for  it,  utterly 
incapable  of  it,  is  fallen  man  ;  whose  life  is 
forfeited,  whose  moral  ability  is  lost,  and 
whose  very  nature  is  enmity  against  God. 

"  I  have  made  a  covenant  with  my  cho- 
sen ;  namely,  with  Da-vid  my  servant." 
True  ;  with  David  as  in  Christ,  or  rather 
as  a  type  of  Christ.  You  cannot  be  ignor- 
ant that  Christ  is  called  by  this  very  name. 


*  Insnlvcnt  and  attainted  creature,   Mr.  Wesley 
ha:i  changed  into  "  a  lebel." 


REV.  MR.  WESLEY. 


366 


The  Lord,  speaking  by  tlie  prophet  Ezekiel, 
says,  "  I  will  set  up  one  Shepherd  over 
them,  and  he  shall  feed  them,  even  my  ser- 
vant David."  Was  Uavid  beloved  ?* 
Christ  was  incomparably  more  so.  Was 
David  God's  chosen  one?  Christ  was  so 
likewise,  and  hi  a  far  sublimer  sense,  and 
for  iniinitely  more  momentous  purposes. 
Was  David  God's  servant  ?  So  was  Jesus 
Clmst;  and  by  his  services  brought  un- 
speakably greater  honour  to  the  Lord  his 
God,  than  all  kings  on  earth,  and  all  the 
princes  of  heaven.  Several  parts  of  this 
psalm  must  be  applied  to  Christ ;  and  if 
several  of  them  must,  the  principal  of  them 
may  and  ought. 

"  He  will  wash  you  in  the  blood  which 
atones,  and  invest  you  with  the  righteous- 
ness which  justifies." — "  Why  should  you 
thus  put  asunder  continually  what  God  has 
jomed  ?"  How  difficult  is  it  to  please  Mr. 
Wesley !  When  Aspasio  spoke  of  Christ's 
righteousness,  without  particularly  men- 
tioning his  blood,  you  said  it  was  better  to 
mention  them  both  together  ;  it  behoved  us 
never  to  name  the  former  without  the  lat- 
ter. Yet  here,  when  both  are  mentioned, 
and  the  particular  use  of  each  is  specified, 


you  complain  of  his  putting  asunder  what 
God  has  joined  ;  which,  in  truth,  is  no  dis- 
joining, but  an  illustration  and  amplification 
of  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ. 

God  himself,  at  the  last  day,  pronounces 
them  righteous,,  because  they  are  interested 
in  the  obedience  of  the  Redeemer.  "  Ra- 
ther, because  they  are  washed  in  his  blood, 
and  renewed  by  his  Spirit."  God  will  jus- 
tify them  in  the  last  day,  in  the  very  same 
way  whereby  he  justified  them  in  this  world ; 
namely,  because  they  are  interested  in  the 
obedience  of  the  Redeemer.  As  for  their 
lenewal  by  the  Spirit,  though  it  will  then 
be  perfect,  yet  it  will  be  no  cause  of  their 
acquittal,  but  the  privilege  of  those  who  are 
acquitted.  A  proof  of  this,  at  least  an  at- 
testation of  it,  the  world  has  received  from 
your  o^\^l  pen  :  "  for  neither  our  own  in- 
ward nor  outward  righteousness  is  the 
ground  of  our  justification.  Holiness  of 
heart,  as  well  as  holiness  of  life,  is  not  the 
cause,  but  the  efl!ect  of  it.  The  sole  cause 
of  our  acceptance  with  God  is  the  righte- 
ousness and  death  of  Christ,  who  fulfilled 
God's  law,  and  died  in  our  stead."  Excel- 
lent sentiments  !  In  these  may  I  ever  abide- 
To  these  may  you  also  return. 


The  Practical  Improvement  of  the  Doctrine  of  a  Sinner's  Justification  by  the  Bighte- 
ousness  of  Christ,  taken  from  a  little  Piece,  entitled,  A  Discourse  upon  Justification, 
printed  at  London  in  1740,  which  Mr.  Hervey  highly  esteemed,  and  warmly  recom- 
mended.— Being  no  improper  Supplement  to  the  Doctrine  contained  in  Theron  a7id 
Aspasio,  and  Aspasio  Vindicated. 


1.  Since  the  justification  of  a  sinner  is 
by  the  complete  obedience  of  Jesus  Christ 
imputed  to  him,  and  received  by  faith  unto 
such  great  and  glorious  effects ;  we  may 
hence  learn  what  reason  we  have  to  admire 
that  infinity  of  wisdom  which  shines  forth 
in  the  contrivance  of  this  wonder ;  and  to 
adore  that  immensity  of  grace  which  is  dis- 
played in  this  glorious  provision  made  for 
the  favourites  of  heaven  !  When  the  be- 
loved John  was  favoured  with  a  visionary 
sight  of  the  woman-bride,  the  Lamb's  wife, 
as  clothed  with  Christ  the  sun  of  righteous- 
ness, and  shining  forth  in  the  resplendent 
rays  of  her  bridegroom's  glory,  he  says  he 
saw  a  wonder,  Rev.  xii.  I.  And  a  wonder 
it  is  indeed  ;  so  great,  that  it  calls  for  the 
admiration  both  of  men  and  of  angels.  This 
is  one  of  those  glorious  things  tluit  by  the 
gospel  is  revealed  unto  us,  "  which  the  an- 
gels desire  to  look  into."  1  Pet.  i.  12.  And 
while  sinful  men  have  the  forgiveness  of 
their  sins  through  Christ's  blood,  and  the 
acceptation  of  their  persons  in  him,  "  the 
beloved,  according   to    the   riches  of"   the 

'  Beloved. — This  is  the  mcaiiiii''  of  David's  name. 


Father's  grace,  "  wherein  he  has  abounded 
towards  them  in  all  wisdom  and  prudence," 
it  becomes  them  to  admire  and  adore  the 
same,  and  to  ciy  out  with  the  apostle,  "  O 
the  depth  of  the  riches,  both  of  the  wisdom 
and  knowledge  of  God  !  How  unsearchable 
are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  find- 
ing out !"  Eph.  i.  6,  7,  8  ;  Rom.  xi.  33. 
That  the  obedience  of  the  Son  of  God 
should  be  made  our  righteousness,  the  righ- 
teousness of  a  sinner,  to  his  com j)]cte  justi- 
fication before  God,  is  such  a  project  of  in- 
finite wisdom,  such  a  provision  of  infinite 
grace,  for  the  salvation  of  God's  chosen, 
that  every  way  becomes  the  great  Jehovah, 
and  will  be  the  endless  wonder  of  men  and 
angels, 

'2.  Since  the  justification  of  a  sinner  is 
wholly  by  the  righteousness  of  another, 
which  is  a  way  of  life  above;  nature,  above 
being  discovered  by  nature's  light,  and  seen 
by  nature's  eye,  or  discovered  by  the  light  of 
the  law,  and  discerned  by  natural  reason  ; 
we  may  learn  hence  what  an  absolute  ne- 
cessity there  is  of  a  supernatural  revelation 
thereof,  in  order  to  the  soul's  receiving  of 
tlii.s  righteousness,  and  so  of  the  grace   of 


566 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF 


justification  thereby.  This  Ls  one  of  those 
things  that  God  has  prepared  for  his  people, 
that  never  entered  into  the  heart  of  the  na- 
tural man  to  conceive  of,  which  he  has  nei- 
ther known  nor  can  understand  ;  and  there- 
fore deems  it  foolishness,  or  a  foolish  thing, 
for  any  to  think  they  shall  be  justified  by 
the  obedience  of  Christ,  exclusive  of  all 
their  own  works.  But  the  people  of  God 
"  receive  not  the  spirit  which  is  of  the 
world,  but  the  spirit  which  is  of  God,  that 
they  may  know  the  things  which  are  freely 
given  them  of  God."  And  this,  of  "  the 
free  gift  of  righteousness,  is  revealed  unto " 
them  by  his  Spirit,  though  it  is  one  of  those 
"deep  things  of  God"  which  ai'e  hidden 
from  the  natural  man  ;  which  are  impossi- 
ble to  be  known  by  any  but  heaven-born 
souls,  under  a  special  revelation  from  above. 
1  Cor.  ii.  9,  &c. 

S.  Since  the  justification  of  a  sinner  is 
by  the  obedience  of  Christ  alone,  we  may 
hence  learn  how  greatly  important  the 
knowledge  thereof  is.  The  knowledge  of 
this  righteousness  must  needs  be  of  the  ut 
most  importance,  since  ignorance  of  it,  and 
non-submission  to  it,  (which  always  go  to- 
gether,) leave  the  soul  in  an  unrighteous 
state,  Rom.  ix.31,  32,  andx.3.  All  those  mi- 
serable souls  who  are  "  ignorant"  ofChrist's 
"  righteousness,  go  about  to  establish  their 
own  righteousness  ;"  and,  alas  !  "  the  bed  is 
shorter  than  that  a  man  can  stretch  him- 
self upon  it,  and  the  covering  narrower 
than  that  he  can  wrap  himself  in  it,"  Isa. 
xxviii.  20.  There  is  no  true  rest  for  a  sin- 
ner from  the  works  of  his  own  hands  ;  no  co- 
vering for  a  naked  soul  from  the  fig-leaves 
of  its  own  righteousness,  though  ever  so 
artfully  sewed  together.  Our  Lord  told 
his  disciples,  that  except  their"  righteousness 
did  exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  they  should  in  no  case  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  Jlatth.  v. 
20.  These  Scribes  and  Pharisees  were 
the  zealous,  the  religious  men  of  that  age  ; 
the  strict  observers  of  Moses'  law,  that 
trusted  in  themselves  that  they  were  right- 
eous by  their  own  legal  performances,  and 
thought  to  get  to  heaven  by  means  thereof. 
But  our  Lord  declares,  that  none  shall  ever 
come  there  but  those  who  have  a  better 
righteousness,  a  righteousness  that  exceeds 
a  Pharisaical  righteousness,  i.  e.  such  a 
righteousness  that  every  way  answers  to  all 
the  extensive  requirements  of  the  law,  in 
heart,  lip,  and  life  ;  and  this  is  no  other 
than  the  righteousness  of  Christ  imputed 
to  poor  sinners,  or  made  theirs  by  imputa- 
tion :  in  which,  being  completely,  justified 
according  to  law  and  justice,  they,  shall,  as 
righteous  persons,  be  admitted  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  or  into  the  glory  of  tlie 
heavenly  state  ;  while  all  those  wb.o  trui^t 
ill  their  own  rightemisness,  kikI  think  they 


have  done  many  wonderful  works  which 
they  dare  plead  for  acceptance  with  God, 
shall  be  sent  away  from  Christ  into  eternal 
misery,  with  a  "  IDepart  from  me,  ye  work- 
ers of  iniquity."  Matth.  vii.  22. 

And  as  our  Lord,  in  this  his  sermon  upon 
the  IMount,  had  been  expounding  the  law 
of  God  in  its  spirituality,  as  extending  to 
the  heart  as  well  as  life ;  and  asserting  the 
necessity  of  keeping  the  commandments  in 
the  same  extensive  manner  that  the  law  re- 
quired, in  order  to  make  a  person  righte- 
ous ;  so,  in  the  conclusion  thereof,  he  says, 
"  Therefore,  whosoever  heareth  these  say- 
ings of  mine,  and  doth  them,  I  vnll  liken 
him  unto  a  wise  man,  who  built  his  house 
upon  a  rock  ;  and  the  rain  descended,  and 
the  floods  came,  and  the  winds  blew,  and 
beat  upon  that  house  ;  and  it  fell  not,  for 
it  was  founded  upon  a  rock,"  ver.  24,  25. 
These  sayings  of  our  Lord  contain  the  sub- 
stance of  the  moral  law  ;  and  the  doing  of 
them  unto  righteousness  before  God,  is  by 
believing  ;  as  faith  lays  hold  on  Christ,  who 
has  obeyed  the  law  perfectly,  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  his  people  ;  on  which  account 
they  may  be  said  to  have  done,  or  fulfilled 
the  law  in  him,  his  obedience  being  imput- 
ed unto  them  for  their  complete  justifica- 
tion before  God,  as  the  siu-ety's  payment 
among  men  is  accounted  to  the  debtor,  and 
is  the  same  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  and  as 
effectual  for  his  full  discharge,  as  if  he  him- 
self had  paid  the  debt.  And  he  that  thus 
doth  the  law,  or  these  sayings  of  Christ, 
he  likens  him  "  unto  a  wise  man,  who  built 
his  house  upon  a  rock."  It  is  a  piece  of 
natural  wisdom,  to  lay  a  good  foundation 
for  a  stately  structure ;  and  the  most  firm 
that  any  house  can  be  built  on,  is  that  of  a 
rock.  And  he  thac  is  spiritually  "  wise, 
wise  unto  salvation,"  lays  the  whole  stress 
of  it,  and  builds  all  his  hope  of  life,  upon 
Christ,  the  Rock  of  ages  :  in  which  it  ap- 
pears, that  he  is  wise  indeed  ;  for  as,  in  na- 
ture, a  house  that  is  t)uilt  upon  a  rock  will 
stand  the  storm,  so  the  soid  that  is  built 
upon  Christ  shall  never  be  removed  :  "  The 
rain  may  descend,  the  floods  come,  and  the 
winds  beat ;"  afflictions,  temptations,  and 
trials  of  all  kinds,  may  beat  vehemently 
against  that  soul,  but  shall  never  distroy  its 
salvation,  nor  make  it  ashamed  of  its  hope. 
No  ;  Christ,  the  rock  of  immutability,  will 
hold  it  unshaken,  in  a  state  of  salvation, 
through  life,  through  death,  at  judgment, 
and  for  ever.  Such  a  soul  stands  as  im- 
movable, in  the  grace  of  justification  and 
life,  as  the  rock  itself  on  which  it  is  found- 
ed. "  Because  I  live,"  saith  our  Lord, 
"  ye  shall  live  also,"  John  xiv.  19.  Christ's 
life  is  the  life  of  that  soul,  that  depends 
upon  him  alone  for  all  its  justification  anjl 
eternal  salvation.  And  therefore  tlie  wis- 
dom of  faith  is  great  indeed,  in  that  it  fore- 


JUSiIFICATION  IMPROVED 


567 


sees  the  storm,  and  thus  provides  against 
it. 

<*  But  he,"  saith  our  Lord,  "  that  heareth 
these  sayings  of  nune,  and  doth  them  not," 
(t.  e.  that  heareth  the  law's  requirements, 
and  endeavours  to  obey  the  same  for  righte- 
ousness before  God,  and  so  doth  them  not, 
because  his  obedience  cannot  come  up  to 
that  perfection  which  the  law  requires), 
"  shall  be  likened  unto  a  foolish  man,  which 
built  his  house  upon  the. sand  ;  and  the  rain 
descended,  and  the  floods  came,  and  the 
winds  blew,  and  beat  upon  that  house  ;  and 
it  fell,  and  great  was  the  fall  of  it,"  ver.  26, 
27.  O  the  folly  of  that  poor  sinner,  who 
iays  the  stress  of  his  salvation,  and  builds 
his  hope  of  life,  upon  his  own  righteousness  ! 
For  this  sandy  foundation  cannot  endure 
the  storms  of  divine  wrath  which  shall  be 
revealed  from  heaven  against  all  unrighte- 
ousness of  men,  nor  secure  the  soul  from 
being  driven  away  by  the  tempest  of  God's 
anger,  and  the  floods  of  his  indignation,  into 
the  abyss  of  eternal  miserj^.  The  house  fell 
that  was  thus  built  upon  the  sand,  "  and 
great  was  the  fall  of  it !"  Oh  !  what  a  mi- 
serable disappointment  will  it  be  to  that 
soul,  that  "  goes  down  to  the  chambers  of 
eternal  death  with  this  lie  of  his  own  righ- 
teousness in  his  right  hand  ;"  from  which 
he  had  all  along  hoped  for  eternal  life  !  when 
this  "  way  that  seemed  right  to  him  in  his 
own  eyes,"  as  if  it  would  lead  him  to  ever- 
lasting life,  by  his  depending  thereon,  shall 
end  in  eternal  death  !  "  The  hope  of  the 
hypocrite,"  or  of  him  that  trusts  in  himself 
that  he  is  righteous  by  his  own  external  pei- 
formances,  when  yet  his  heart  is  far  from 
that  conformity  to  God  which  the  law  re- 
quires, "  shall  perish  at  the  giving  up  of 
the  ghost.  His  hope,"  i.  e.  his  sidvation 
hoped  for,  "  shall  then  be  cut  off.  He 
shall  lean  upon  his  house,"  i.  e.  his  own 
righteousness,  which  he  had  raised  up  in 
his  imagination,  to  shelter  him  from  the 
storm  of  divine  vengeance,  "  but  it  shall 
not  stand  ;  he  shall  hold  it  fast,  but  it  shall 
not  endure,"  Job  viii.  13 — 15.  No;  this 
house  of  his  shall  be  as  soon  destroyed  by 
the  storm  of  God's  indignation,  as  a  spider's 
web  is  swept  down  by  the  besom  that  comes 
against  it;  and  the  miserable  sail,  that 
trusted  hereni,  shall  be  driven  away  ir^o 
eternal  perdition.  Thus,  an  erri  r  in  the 
fmiTidatiuti  will  prove  fatal  to  the  building; 
and  therefore  the  kncwledge  of  Christ,  as 
the  alone  way  of  a  sinner's  justification  and 
life,  must  needs  be  of  the  highest  imjjort- 
aiijc ;  since  r  1  other  refuge  can  stand  the 
stoi'm  but  Christ,  as  the  Lonl  our  Ki^lite- 
ousness  ;  this  glorious  hiding-place,  winch 
God  has  prejiarcd  for  poor  sinners,  wliether 
they  may  run,  and  be  for  ever  safe.  And 
as  for  those  who  live  and  die  in  ignorance 
«f,  and  non- submission  tu,  the  righteousness 


of   Christ,  they  will  certainly  die   in  their 
sins,  and  perish  for  ever.      They  will  all  be 
found  fdthy  at  the  day  of  judgment,  that 
have  not  been  enabled  to  believe  in  Christ's 
blood,  for  cleansing  from  all  sin  ;  they  will 
all  be  found  unjust  at  that  awful  day,  that 
have  not  believed   the   Redeemer's  righte- 
ousness, for  their  justification  before  God ; 
and  so  must  remain  for  ever :  For  concern- 
ing them  it  will  then  be  said,   "  He  that  is 
filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  still ;  and  he  that  is 
unjust,  let  him   be   unjust  still ;"  i.    e.   let 
him  abide  so  to  an  endless  eteinity.      But, 
4.    Since  there  is  but  one  way  for  a  sin- 
ner to  be  justified  before  God,  and  that  is 
by  the  obedience  of  Christ  alone,  this  in- 
forms us  what  great  folly  those  persons  are 
guilty  of,  who   press   poor   sinners  to   obey 
the  law,  to   make  themselves   righteous  in 
the  sight  of  God,  when   there  is   no   law 
given  that  can  give   life  unto  them  ;  and 
how  dangerous  it  is  for  souls  to  sit  under 
such    a    ministry,    that    naturally   misleads 
them  ;  since,   while  "  the   blind  leads  the 
blind,  both  fall  uito  the  ditch."     "  If  there 
had  been  a  law  given  that  could  have  given 
life,"  says  the  apostle,  "  verily  righteousness 
should  have  been  by  the  law,"  Gal.  iii.  21. 
But  as  there  is  no  law  given  that  can  give 
life  to  a  sinner,  it  is  a  vain  foolish  thing  to 
press  such  a  soul  to  get  a  righteousness  by 
his  own  performances,  which  was  never  ap- 
pointed of  God,  nor  can  be  attained  by  man. 
No  ;  "  the  Scripture  hath  concluded  all  un- 
der sin,  that  the  promise  (of  life)  by  faith  of 
Jesus  Christ  (as  a   sinner's  righteousness) 
might  be   given  to  them  tliat  believe,"  ver. 
22.     And  those  who  receive  it  not  in  this 
way  shall  never  attain  it  in  any  other,  but 
must  go  without  it  for  ever.     "  The  labour 
of  the  foolish,"  says  the  wise  man,  "  wea- 
rieth  every  one  of  them,  because  he  know- 
eth  not  how  to  go  to  the  city."  Eccl.  x.  15. 
A  man  may  labour,  all  his  days,   to  make 
himself  righteous   before   God  by  his  own 
perfc^'-mances,  and  to  make  his  peace  with 
him  by  his  legal  repentance  and  humiliation 
for  sin  ;  and  yet  lose  all  his  labour  at  last, 
and  so  weary  himself  in  vain,   being  never 
able  to  reach   that  city,  that  eternal    rest, 
which  God  has   prepared   for   his   pecple ; 
because  he  knoweth   not   Christ,  the   only 
way  that  leads  thither,  and  so  walks  not  by 
faith  in  him  as  such.      All  men  are   by  na- 
ture 'gnoraiit  of  Christ's  righteousness,  as 
it  is  God's  way  of  justifying  and  saving  u 
sinner  ;  luid  it  is  dangerous  for  souls  to  sit 
under  such  a  ministry,  that  presserh  doing, 
and  persuades  them  their  safety  lies  there, 
instead  of  believing.      "  For  how  shall  they 
believe,"  says  the  apostle,  "  in  him  of  wliouj 
they  have  not  heard  ?   And  how  shall  they 
hear  without  a  j)rencher  ?   And  how  shall 
they  preach  except  they  be   sent  ?"  Rom. 
X.  M,  15.     How  shall  poor  foids  believe  in 


568 


THE  DOCTRINE,  &c. 


Chiist  for  justification,  when  they  have 
never  heard  of  his  righteousness,  wliich  is 
the  proper  object  of  faith  ?  And  how  shall 
they  hear  without  a  preacher  of  that  gospel 
that  declares  it  ?  And  how  shall  they  preach 
the  go«pe]  to  others,  who  have  never  seen 
that  salvation  it  reveals  for  shiners,  by  the 
righteousness  of  Christ,  themselves  ?  How 
shall  they  declare  the  glory  and*'  efficacy 
thereof  to  others,  that  have  never  seen  nor 
experienced  it  themselves  ?  And  how  does 
it  appear  that  they  are  sent  by  Christ  to 
preach  the  gospel,  who  neither  know  nor 
proclaim  his  righteousness  for  the  justifica- 
tion of  a  sinner,  which  is  such  a  main  doc- 
trine thereof?  Have  we  not  reason  to  fear, 
that  many  of  those  who  are  called  ministers 
of  the  gospel,  are  rather  preachers  of  Moses 
than  of  Christ  ?  and  that  their  ministry  ra- 
ther tends  to  lead  souls  to  the  bondage  and 
death  of  the  law,  than  to  the  liberty  and  life 
of  the  gospel  ?  But  "  how  beautiful  are  the 
feet  of  (hem  that  preach  the  gospel  of  jjeace, 
that  bring  glad  tidings  of  good  things  !" 
That  publish  that  peace  with  God,  which 
was  made  for  sinners  alone  by  the  blood  of 
Christ's  cross,  and  is  possessed  only  by  faith 
in  hira  !  That  proclaim  the  glad  tidings  of 
those  good  things,  whi(;h  God  has  prepared 
to  be  enjoyed  by  sinners,  through  the  justi- 
fying righteousness  of  his  Son !  And  how 
great  is  the  privilege  of  those  souls  who  sit 
under  a  gospel  ministry  ;  since  this  is  the 
means  appointed  of  God  to  work  faith  in 
them,  and  to  bring  salvation  to  them  !  Once 
more, 

5.  Since  the  justification  of  a  sinner  is 
by  the  righteousness  of  Christ  imputed  to 
him,  and  received  by  faith  alone,  we  may 
hence  learn,  how  great  the  obligation  of  the 
justified  ones  is,  to  live  to  the  glory  of  that 
grace  which  has  so  freely  and  fully  justified 
tliem,  in  and  through  Christ,  unto  eternal 
life,  by  him  !  When  the  apostle  had  assert- 
ed the  justification  and  salvation  of  God's 
people,  both  Jews  and  Gentiles,  to  be 
wholly  of  his  free  mercy,  in  and  through 
Christ,  llom-  xi.  32,  and  admired  the  rich- 
es of  his  wisdom,  which  was  so  brightly 
displayed  in  the  dispensations  of  his  mercy 
towards  them,  ver.  o3,  he  thus  concludes 
his  discourse,  ver.  36,  "  For  of  him,  and 
through  him,  and  to  him,  are  all  things ;  to 
whom  be  glory  for  ever,  amen."  It  is  as  if 
he  should  say.  Since  all  things,  relating  to 
the  justification  and  salvation  of  God's  peo- 
ple, are  of  him,  and  through  him,  it  is  meet 
that  the  glory  of  all  should,  by  them,  be 
given  to  him.  And  therefore,  when  he  ap- 
plies this  doctrine  of  God's  free  mercy  in 
Chiibt,  to  them  who  had  obtained  it,  he  thub 


addresses  then\  chap.  xii.  1.  "I  beseech 
you,  therefore,  brethren,  by  the  mercies  of 
God,  that  ye  present  your  bodies  a  living 
sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  unto  God,  which 
is  your  reasonable  service."  I  beseech  (you), 
says  he,  you  that  have  obtained  mercy, 
(therefore)  or  since  it  is  God's  design  to 
glorify  his  mercy  in  the  salvation  of  sinners, 
that  you  give  him  the  glory  of  it ;  (by  the 
mercies  of  God,)  those  mercies  of  God 
which  you  are  partakers  of,  in  the  forgive- 
ness of  all  your  sins,  and  in  the  justification 
of  your  persons,  ("  that  ye  present  your 
bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable 
unto  God,")  that  ye  continually  oflfer  up 
yourselves,  as  a  whole  burnt-offering,  in  the 
flames  of  love,  unto  him  that  hath  loved 
you,  in  all  holy  and  acceptable  obedience, 
to  the  glory  of  that  God  who  has  thus  had 
mercy  upon  you  ;  ("  which  is  your  reasona- 
able  service.")  For  it  is  a  most  reasonable 
thing,  or  a  thing  for  which  there  is  the  high- 
est reason,  that  you  should  ever  sei-ve  the 
Lord,  to  the  glory  of  that  grace  by  which 
you  are  freely  justified,  and  shall  be  eter- 
nally glorified.  And  thus  the  apostle  Pe- 
ter, 1  Pet.  ii.  9.  "  But  ye  are  a  chosen 
generation,  a  royal  priesthood,"  who  are 
washed  fi-om  all  your  sins  in  Christ's  blood, 
and  clothed  with  his  righteousness,  "  an 
holy  nation,  a  peculiar  people ;  that  ye 
should  show  forth  the  praises  of  him  who 
hath  called  you  out  of  darkness  into  his 
marvellous  light."  And,  "  You  know  (says 
the  apostle  Paul)  how  we  exhorted,  and 
comforted,  and  charged  every  one  of  you, 
(i.  e.  of  you  justified,  saved  ones),  that  ye 
would  walk  worthy  of  God,  who  hath  called 
you  luito  his  kingdom  and  glory."  1  Thess. 
ii.  II,  12.  And,  in  short,  as  it  was  God's 
design  to  get  himself  glory  in  the  justifica- 
tion of  sinners,  by  the  righteousness  of  Je- 
sus Clu-ist ;  so  the  display  thereof,  through, 
out  the  whole  gospel,  lays  them  under  the 
highest  obligation  to  live  to  his  praise. 
Does  God  the  Father  impute  the  obedience 
of  his  Son  to  poor  sinners  ?  Did  God  the 
Son  obey  in  life  and  in  death  for  them  ?  and 
does  God  the  Spirit  reveal  and  apply  this  righ- 
teousness to  them  ;  and  enable  them  to  re- 
ceive the  same,  as  a  free  gift  of  grace,  unto 
their  eternal  life  in  glory?  What  thanks, 
what  praise,  is  due  to  God,  in  each  of  his 
glorious  persons,  for  this  abundant  grace ! 
And  let  the  language  of  the  justified  ones, 
in  heart,  lip,  and  life,  in  all  kind  of  holy  obe- 
dience, both  now  and  always  be,  "  Thanks 
be  unto  God  for  the  grace  of  justification ! 
for  this  his  unspeakable  gift !"  2  Cor.  ix. 
15.     Amen!    Hallelujah! 


DEFENCE 


OF 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO, 


AGAINST 

OiiJKCTlONS  CONTAINED  IN  A  LATE  TREATISE,  ENTITLED 
LETTERS  ON  THERON  AND  ASPASIO 

TO  WHICH  IS  PREFIXED, 

A  Seiues  of  LiiTTERS  fioiTi  Mr.  Heevey  to  the  Autlior,  aiithciiticatinQ;  this  De- 
fence with  his  entire  approbation,  and  manifesting  it  to  be  the  only  one  that  can 
be  presented  to  the  Public  with  that  authority. 


PREFACE. 


The  intention  of  prefixing  Mr.  Hervey's 
letters  to  this  reply,  is  in  fact  to  recommend 
it  to  the  attention  of  the  public,  as  such  a 
farther  explication  and  defence  of  Theron 
and  Aspasio  as  was  quite  agreeable  to  his 
own  judgment ;  such  as,  in  substance,  would 
have  appeared  in  the  world  in  his  elegant 
and  entertaining  manner  of  address,  had  it 
))leased  the  Sovereign  Disposer  of  all  events 
to  have  continued  him  in  life,  and  such  as 
the  present  situation  of  his  writings  re- 
quire. 

It  has  been  already  remarked,  in  the 
public  intimation  of  printing  Mr.  Hervey's 
letters,  that  "  when  writers  of  a  distinguish- 
ed sii))eriority  have  gained  our  admiration 
and  applause,  we  are  fond  of  penetrating 
nito  their  more  retired  apartments,  and  as- 
sociating with  them  in  the  sequestered 
walks  of  ])rivate  life."  A  curiosity  of  this 
nature  caiuiot  be  more  usefully  gratified;  we 
cannot  be  ushered  into  Mr.  Hervey's  coni- 
ptmy  to  better  purpose,  tlmn  to  hear  him 


declare  what  he  himself  counted  most  val- 
uable in  all  his  writings  ;  that  which  was 
his  main  design,  and  to  which  he  would 
have  his  readers  continually  advert ;  those 
sentiments  which,  as  he  expresses  it  in  one 
of  his  letters,  "  I  wish  to  have  written  on 
my  heart ;  such  as  I  wish  to  sjjcak  and 
teach  while  I  live ;  and  in  my  writings,  if 
my  writings  survive  me,  to  testify  when  I 
am  dead ;"  more  especially,  if  what  he  so 
esteemed  is  the  doctrine  of  our  Lord  and 
his  apostles  ;  otherwise  Mr.  Hervey's  es- 
teem will  be  but  of  small  account. 

It  seems  the  more  necessary  that  ho 
should  thus  be  made  to  speak  for  himself, 
since  some  who  have  distinguished  them- 
selves as  his  peculiar  friends,  and  as  very 
angry  with  ]\Ir.  Sandeman  in  his  behalf,  are 
at  the  same  time  very  likely  to  be  no  friends 
to  his  Defence.  The  reason  is,  whatever 
may  be  the  motive  for  their  professed  re- 
gard, they  have,  for  many  years  past,  and 
do  unto  this  day,  manifest  great  ignorance, 


370 


PREFACE. 


if  not  great  enmity,  in  respect  of  the  prin- 
ciples which  formed  and  intiuenced  Mr. 
Hervey's  faith  and  practice,  and  on  which 
he  ventured  his  eternal  concerns :  stigma- 
tizing, or,  I  should  rather  say,  honouring 
them  with  the  same  kind  of  reproaches  as 
the  ancient  opposers  of  Christianity  cast 
upon  our  Lord  and  his  disciples.-  Perhaps 
it  may  awaken  the  attention  of  some  to  in- 
quire of  the  unerring  oracles,  What  is  truth  ? 
when  they  find  by  these  letters,  that  there 
is  no  dependence  to  be  placed  elsewhere  ; 
and  that  those  in  whom  they  have  trusted  as 
gpiritual  guides,  applaud  or  censure  with 
very  little  judgment,  or  with  a  worse  de- 
sign. 

After  all,  I  am  not  so  sanguine  in  my 
expectation,  as  to  think  that  by  this,  or  any 
other  method,  the  despised  truth  of  the  gos- 
pel will  preyail  with  many,  against  the 
stream  of  the  reputed  devout  and  highly  es- 
teemed of  this  world.  We  must  remember 
the  treatment  which  our  Lord  and  his  dis- 
ciples met  with ;  and  as  the  world  is  not 
better  now  than  it  was  in  those  days,  we 
have  little  reason  to  expect  better  success. 

Mr.  Hervey  began  to  find  he  had  been 
in  a  mistake  in  this  respect,  and  would  have 
publicly  acknowledged  as  much,  had  he 
lived  but  a  few  months  longer.  He  began 
to  be  acquainted  with  that  true  grace  of 
God,  which  is  contrary  to  the  course  of  this 
world,  in  its  devoutest  form,  for  upwards  of 
twelve  years  before  our  correspondence 
commenced.  He  was  willing  to  recom- 
mend it  to  their  consideration,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, make  it  appear  lovely  to  their  view. 
He  dressed  it  up  with  all  the  beauties  of 
eloquence,  and  all  the  winning  arts  of  per- 
suasion. He  concealed  whatever  he  thought 
might  give  his  readers  disgust,  a"nd  even 
entreated  his  friend  to  conceal  their  corres- 
pondence lor  the  present,  lest  the  power  of 
prejudice  (raised  by  his  professed  friends) 
should  prevent  them  from  looking  into  his 
books ;  and  all  this  in  hopes  to  prevail,  and 
give  the  despised  gospel  of  Jesus  a  recom- 
mendiiig  appearance  in  their  eyes.  But, 
alas  !  he  died  before  he  had  accomplished 
this  desiq;n  ;  and  perhaps,  had  he  lived  to 
the  age  of  Methuselah,  he  would  never  have 
brought  it  to  pass.  So  that  we  can  only 
look  upon  this  as  his  fervent  desire,  that  the 
important  truth  in  which  he  had  found  all 
he  wanted,  should  be  as  great  a  blessin^'  to 
others,  as  it  had  been  to  him.  He  gained 
a  return  of  complimetit  for  his  favourable 
sentiments  and  kind  behaviour,  but  it  was 
in  vain  for  him  to  expect  to  prevail  any  far- 
ther. 

His  notion  was,  as  he  himself  expresses 
it,  that  "  the  tast^'  of  the  present  age  is 
somewhat  like  the  humour  of  children;  their 
milk  must  be  sugared,  tiieir  wine  si)ice(i, 
and    thtir  jicccasary  food   garnislud    with 


flowers,  and  enriched  with  sweetmeats." 
His  desire  that  what  he  called  his  principal 
point  might  be,  if  possible,  made  thus  pa- 
latable, engaged  him  in  several  correspon- 
dences, suited  to  the  embellishment  of  his 
works ;  his  superiority  as  a  writer  caused 
many  to  covet  an  acqaintance  and  friend- 
ship with  him  ;  and  his  tender  and  com- 
plaisant behaviour,  even  to  those  who  dif- 
fered, gave  some  of  them  hopes  of  prevail- 
ing with  him,  or  by  him,  to  advance  their 
own  various  and  opposite  sentiments.  Fill- 
ed with  these  hopes,  their  behaviour  to- 
wards him  was  accordingly  respectful ;  which, 
together  with  his  retired  situation  in  life, 
prevented  him,' in  a  great  measure,  from  dis» 
cerning  their  enmity  to  his  principles.  Tak 
ing  it  for  granted  they  meant  as  they  spake, 
he  judged  them  aiming  to  promote  the  same 
important  cause.  Had  this  been  fact,  they 
would  have  still  merited  the  regard  he  paid 
them  ;  their  professed  zeal  would  have  been 
commendable,  had  it  been  subservient  to 
the  true  grace  of  God  for  which  he  pleaded; 
but  bears  as  different  an  as^pect  when  their 
enmity  and  opposition  thereto  is  discovered, 
even  as  Paul's  most  hardened  wickedness 
was  to  the  piety  and  zeal  of  his  Pharisaic 
state. 

No  sooner  was  he  dead,  than  consulta- 
tions were  on  foot,  tending  to  bury  his  prin- 
ciples as  vvell  as  him.  His  private  letters 
were  publicly  advertised  for,  in  order  to  be 
printed ;  which,  by  the  use  made  of  them, 
seems  not  done  with  any  design  to  establish 
the  truths  he  contended  for,  but  to  pick  out, 
if  possible,  something  to  their  disadvantage; 
and,  what  is  still  more  unworthy,  to  estab- 
lish their  own  characters  in  such  attempts, 
on  the  encomiums  he  had  at  one  time  or 
other  bestowed  on  them,  for  want  of  see- 
ing them  properly;  for  want  of  knowing  that 
their  ruling  principle  was  a  fixed  enmity  to 
that  gospel  which  was  his  sole  delight.  Be- 
sides this,  several  reports  were  spread,  de- 
trimental to  the  important  truth  he  had  so 
contended  for  :  and,  knowing  that  all  and 
every  one  of  them  could  be  fully  disproved 
by  Mr.  Hervey's  own  handwriting,  I  count- 
ed it  my  duty  to  f  irt  the  defence,  and  to 
publish  the  letters  to  the  aurhor,  to  authen- 
ticate it  with  Mr-  Hervey's  approbation; 
though  I  was  apprehensive,  at  the  same 
time,  it  migut  carry  the  appearance  of  os- 
tentation, to  such  aj  did  not  know  what  was 
ill  hand,  and  so  could  not  be  sensible  that 
the  support  of  the  important  truth  which 
shines  through  all  his  works  depended,  in 
some  measure,  on  the  publication  of  these 
letters. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  the  persons  con- 
cerned in  the  pulilication  of  two  volumes, 
under  the  title  of  "  The  Letters  of  the  late 
Kev.  Sir.  Jajjies  Hervey,"  have  exerted 
thcnisclves,    with    uncommon   boldness,   in 


PREFACE. 


571 


disfiguring  his  principles  ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  introduce  their  own.  This  is  evi- 
dently manifest  from  several  notes  annexed 
to  these  letters.*  In  these  volumes  they 
have  insinuated,  that  the  author  of  the  De- 
fence of  Theron  and  Aspasio  was  "  on  the 
Antinomian  side  of  the  question,  and  that 
Mr.  Hervey  by  no  means  approved  of  his 
sentiments."  Upon  this  there  immediately 
appeared  in  the  Gazetteer,  Aug.  22,  and 
London  Chronicle,  Aug.  20,  a  letter  to  the 
editor  and  publisher  of  these  volumes,  sig- 
nifying the  shocking  appearance  of  slander 
and  detraction,  in  volumes  under  the  name 
of  a  man  so  averse  to  such  proceedings  ; 
and  proving,  from  Mr.  Hervey's  own  words, 
the  most  apparent  falsehood  in  their  asser- 
tions ;  there  being  no  letter  in  the  whole 
two  volumes  so  ex|)ressive  of  sameness  of 
sentiment,  as  the  letters  to  the  author  of 
the  Defence  of  Theron  and  Aspasio,  and 
concluding  with  these  words  -.  "  The  secret 
stabs  that  are  given  to  characters,  by  modern 
pretenders  to  piety,  would  make  a  court  of 
justice  blush.  And  I  am  persuaded  the 
real  friends  to  Mr.  Hervey's  memory,  or 
writings,  will  not  be  pleased  to  find  his 
name  made  subservient  to  such  base  pur- 
poses."— The  proceedings  are  a  little  more 
open  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  Au- 
gust ;  where  we  are  told,  that  Mr.  Hervey 
himself  "  is  by  no  means  free  of  the  charge 
of  stretching  the  principles  of  Calvin  into 
Aiitinomianism."  It  is  very  evident  Mr. 
Hervey  concerned  himself  with  no  Calvin- 
istical  or  Arminian  disjuites.  In  one  of 
his  letters,  speaking  of  Mr.  Wesley's  con- 
duct, he  says,  "  I  am  sometimes  apprehen- 
sive that  he  would  draw  me  into  a  dispute 
about  particular  redemption.  I  know  he 
can  say  startling  and  horrid  things  on  this 
subject ;  and  this,  perhaps,  might  be  the 
most  effectual  method  to  prejudice  people 
against  my  principal  point." 

As  to  the  charge  of  Antinomianism,  un- 
less the  particular  errors  are  pointed  out, 
(which  may  as  well  be  done  without  the  as- 
sistance of  reproachful  names,)  it  is  no  more 
than  a  very  vague  uncertain  sound,  made 
use  of  by  some  leaders  in  the  various  classes 
of  religious  people  as  a  political  bugbear, 
whereby  they  disguise  and  disfigure  the  party 
they  intend  to  reproach.  It  is  a  term  not 
confined  to  any  dictionary  interpretation, 
but  admits  of  a  variety  of  definitions,  accord- 
ing to  the  various  sentiments  of  the  persons 
who  use  it,  from  the  most  professed  preach- 
ers of  Christ,  down  to  the  monthly  review- 
ers, who  esteem  no  better  of  any  that  con- 
cern themselves  with  the  name  of  Jesus, 
farther  than  what  becomes  a  decent  com- 
plaisance to  the  profession  of  their  country. 


♦  AH  thcKe  notes  are  throvn  out  of  tliis  etlition  of 
our  iVutiior's  Works, 


These  gentlemen  can  read  the  Bible  as  well 
as  these  volumes,  "  without  the  least  intel- 
lectual improvement"  in  the  doctrine  of 
Christ ;  and  can  also  give  a  solid  reason  for 
it,  viz.  that  they  have  no  taste  for  this  kind 
of  reading — it  's  very  disagreeable  to  them. 
They  judge,  "  that  one  virtuous  design  pro- 
moted, one  good  action  done,  or  one  bad 
habit  subdued,  is  worth  more  than  all  such 
trifling  considerations"  as  the  death  and  re- 
surrection of  Jesus.  The  Scripture  lan- 
guage concerning  salvation  only  by  Christ, 
must  be  Antinomianism  in  their  esteem. 
They  expect  to  be  saved  in  doing  well ;  and 
the  Scripture  assures  them,  that  "  if  they  do 
well,  they  shall  be  accepted."  Our  Saviour 
declares,  he  never  came  to  interrupt  such 
peo])le  in  their  good  intentions  ;  but  to  save 
the  lost  and  worthless,  such  as  ought  to 
perish  according  to  every  rule  of  equity; 
and  the  real  gospel  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  will  ever  prove  "  foolishness,"  a 
"  stone  of  stumbling,"  and  "  i:ock  of  offence," 
to  any  but  these  sort  of  people. 

Any  one  who  has  read  the  letters  on  The- 
ron and  Aspasio,  or  ever  seen  Mr.  Hervey's 
sentiments  of  that  author,  will  easily  per- 
ceive that  a  reply  to  that  performance  was 
absolutely  necessary,  or  else,  as  he  observes 
in  one  of  his  letters,  "  what  is  not  confuted 
by  argument,  is  confirmed  by  silence."  It 
was  also  necessary,  if  possible,  that  this  de- 
fence should  be  by  himself,  or  by  his  ap- 
probation, and  also  that  the  public  shotdd 
be  ascertained  of  this,  that  so  it  may  be 
considered  as  a  proper  and  necessary  sup- 
plement to  his  volumes.  As  these  particu- 
lars can  be  so  plainly  discovered  by  the  let- 
ters prefixed,  it  is  well  that  ]\Ir.  Hervey 
was  so  open  in  his  declaj-ations. 

As  to  our  debate  with  Mr.  Sandeman,  it 
seems  to  stand  as  follows  : — 

The  turning  point  from  despair  to  good 
hope,  he  observes,  is  the  hinge  of  the  con- 
troversy ;  and  this  point  is,  with  Mr.  Sande- 
man, the  finished  work  of  Christ,  as  it  is 
fully  sufficient  to  vindicate  the  divine  jus- 
tice in  saving  the  most  guilty.  All  the 
hope  ho  has  by  this,  is  represented  by  the 
hope  a  man  has  from  hearing  of  the  plenti- 
ful importation  of  corn  in  the  time  of  fa- 
mine, while  it  yet  remains  a  hazard  whether 
he  shall  ever  obtain  any ;  and  his  expecta- 
tion to  obtain,  is  by  labouring  and  painful 
desire  and  fear  till  crowned  with  enjoy- 
ment. 

Aspasio's  turning-point  is  the  finished 
work  of  Christ  revealed  in  the  gracious  de- 
clarations of  the  gos])el,  not  only  as  sup- 
porting the  divine  justice  in  saving  the  most 
guilty,  but  also  as  the  sufficient  object  oi 
the  sinner's  immediate  trust  and  confidence, 
agreeably  to  the  repeated  divine  assurances 
that  such  shall  not  be  confounded  or  disap- 
pointed.   And  the  works  and  labour  ol  love 


512 


PREFACE. 


Asp;isio  pleads  for,  are  works  of  love  to 
Cod  thus  manifested  and  trusted  in. 

Aspasio's  former  opponents  have  objected 
to  this  immediate  trust  of  a  sinner  upon 
Christ  alone  for  everlasting  life,  by  pleading 
for  what  they  have  conceived  to  be  previ- 
ously necessary,  under  the  names  of  faith, 
repentance,  sanctification  begun,  &c. 

Mr.  Sandeman  has  undertaken  to  prove, 
that  all  true  sanctification,  conversion,  faith, 
&c.  springs  solely  from  the  truth  of  Christ's 
sufficiency  for  the  most  guilty,  without  any 
addition  whatever,  as  the  central  point  of 
divine  revelation ;  and  that  all  other  religion 
is  not  any  part  of  Christianity,  not  any  part 
of  that  doctrine  which  came  from  heaven, 
but  only  the  vain  efforts  of  the  natural  man 
to  lower  the  divine  character  of  the  infinite- 
ly righteous  and  just  God,  and  quiet  his 
guilty  conscience  with  a  righteousness  insuf- 
ficient, or  in  other  words,  a  righteousness 
stained  with  sin  ;  and  that  the  names  of 
conversion,  faith,  sanctification,  applied  to 
this  kind  of  religion,  are  only  fitted  to  de- 
ceive ;  and  supposing  our  appropriation  or 
trust  to  be  a  denial  of  this  sufficiency  of 
Christ  alone,  he  opposes  that  also.  This, 
then,  is  what  we  are  concerned  to  defend. 

To  this  purpose  I  have  endeavoured  to 
show,  that  in  trusting  to  the  sufficient  righ- 
teousness of    Christ  alone  for  everlasting 


science  of  that  man  is  quiotcdf,  who  disco- 
vers no  foundation  in  what  he  believes,  to 
trust  in  Christ's  righteousness  for  everlast- 
ing life.  He  supposes,  that  the  uneasiness 
and  dread  of  conscience  arises  only  from 
the  appearing  impossibility  of  a  just  God 
being  a  Saviour ;  from  whence  he  infers, 
that  the  revelation  of  a  righteousness  remov- 
ing this  seeming  impossibility,  brings  the 
rest  and  peace  the  Scripture  speaks  of, 
without  revealing  any  ground  for  trust  and 
confidence  in  that  righteousness.  But  this 
supposition  is  not  true ;  few  or  none  are 
troubled  with  such  apprehensions  ;  nor  does 
the  Scripture  address  men  as  though  they 
were.  It  is  self-evident,  that  the  cause  of 
our  dread  is  an  apprehension  of  our  want 
of  a  righteousness  acceptable  to  the  divine 
purity  ;  and  what  relieves  must  be,  our  hav- 
ing such  a  righteousness,  either  in  ourselves, 
or  by  God's  free  gift.  This  Mr.  Sandeman 
himself  seems  to  acknowledge,  when  he  talks 
of  "  labouring  in  painfid  desire  and  fear," 
as  the  eflfect  of  his  cramped  view  of  the 
gospel.  For  vv'hy  is  this  the  eflJ'ect,  but  be- 
cause what  he  believes  does  not  afl^ord  the 
proper  satisfaction  ? 

Mr.  Sandeman's  jealousy  is,  lest  we,  by 
pleading  thus  for  a  sinner's  trust  and  confi- 
dence on  Christ,  should  lead  man  into  a 
self-dependence  on  his  doing  something  to 


life,  we  keep  clear  of  the  charge  of  denying  relieve  himself  from    his  dreadful   circum 


the  sufficient  righteousness,  and  of  addin 
or  mixing  another  righteousness  with  it.  We 
may  rather  ask.  How  does  it  appear  that  any 
man  believes  it  to  be  sufficient,  when  he 
dare  not  trust  his  soul  upon  it,  but  waits,  in 
painful  desire  and  fear,  to  discover  himself 
possessed  of  the  distinguishing  qualities  of 
a  believer  ?  And  as  he  carefully  separates 
what  he  believes  from  all  foundation  of  hope 
or  confidence  therein  for  everlasting  life,  he 
appears  to  us  involved  in  the  absurdity  of 
hoping  for  eternal  life  by  Christ,  because 
he  discovers  himself  without  any  foundation 
of  hope,  either  in  himself,  or  in  the  gospel 
he  believes. 

He  may  say,  *'  He  trusts  to  be  saved  by 
what  Christ  has  done,  if  saved  at  all ;"  but 
that  very  if  signifies,  that  he  does  not 
trust  upon  what  Christ  has  done,  but  is  wait- 
ing to  discover  something  else  as  a  more 
proper  ground  of  his  confidence.  And  what 
is  that  something  else,  but  the  diflference  he 
discovers  betwixt  himself  and  other  sinners  ? 
So  that,  after  all  our  fiourishes  against  self- 
dependence  and  Pharisaic  doctrine,  if  we 
are  not  upon  our  guard,  we  shall  be  at  last 
settled  on  no  other  foundation. 

Mr.  Saiidonian,  in  endeavouring  to  prove 
that  his  view  of  the  gospel  "  quiets  the 
guilty  conscience  of  a  man  as  soon  as  he 
knows  it,"  acknowledges  with  us,  that  the 
gospel  is  designed  for  that  end  ;  but  fails  in 
his  attempt  to  make  out  that  the  guilty  con- 


stances,  instead  of  being  supported  only  by 
what  Christ  has  already  done.  But  how 
easy  is  it  to  perceive,  that  no  man  is,  or  can 
be,  supported  by  what  Christ  has  already 
done,  but  he  that  discovers  it  the  object  ot 
his  trust  and  confidence  for  everlasting  life  ? 
and  that  so  to  depend  on  Christ,  and  what 
he  has  done,  is  the  very  opposite  of  all  self- 
dependence,  and  inconsistent  with  our  de- 
pending on  our  doing  any  thing  either  pre- 
sent or  future  ? 

Jt  is  true,  a  man  that  is  at  an  entire  im- 
certainty  without  any  dependence  whatever, 
is  as  clear  of  self-dependence  as  he  is  of 
dependence  on  what  Christ  has  done.  So 
a  n)an  that  neither  eats  nor  drinks,  is  as 
much  out  of  danger  of  dying  with  glut- 
tony and  excess,  as  he  is  of  being  poisoned 
with  unwholesome  food.  But  how  long 
can  aman  live  thus  ?  Andhowlongcan  aman 
support,  without  having  some  dependence 
or  other  for  his  soul  ?  It  is  as  natural  for 
the  mind  of  man  to  depend  on  something 
against  the  fears  of  hereafter,  as  it  is  for 
his  body  to  gravitate  or  sink  till  it  meets 
with  a  proper  support.  Hence  we  find, 
that  those  who  depend  not  on  the  truth,  de- 
pend on  some  falsehood  or  other  which  they 
suppose  to  be  true  ;  and  when  a  man  is  beat 
off  from  one  false  dependence,  he  is  sinking 
to  despair  till  he  iinds  another,  or  is  reliev- 
ed by  the  real  truth.  And  that  trutli  which 
relieves,  nnist   reveal   a   foundation   ol    de- 


PREFACE. 


573 


peiidence  for  everlasting  life :  to  attempt 
to  rest  short  of  this,  is  to  attempt  to  build 
a  castle  in  the  air.  The  discovery  that 
"  God  may,  if  he  pleases,  have  mercy  115)011 
me  as  I  at  present  stand,"  although  it  tends 
to  remove  the  Pharisaic  wish  or  want  to 
know  that  I  am  distinguished  from  others, 
yet  leaves  me  unsupported  as  to  original 
and  real  dread  of  conscience  arising  from 
my  personal  deficiency.  And  as  such  slight 
the  divine  warrant  for  the  sinner's  trust  and 
confidence  in  Christ's  sufficient  righteous- 
ness, they  naturally  sink  to  the  hope  of 
eternal  lite,  not  by  what  Christ  has  done, 
or  what  the  gospel  declares,  but  a  hope  that 
they  are  the  sheep  of  Christ  who  hear  his 
voice,  which  is  in  fact  only  a  hope  in  them- 
selves. 

The  generality  of  mankind  are  but  little 
concerned  about  the  truth  of  the  foundation 
of  their  peace  of  conscience ;  so  they  have 


got  some  hope,  it  is  enough ;  they  do  not 
care  to  be  disturbed  from  it  with  such  .1 
controversy  as  this  ;  especially  if  they  can 
but  conceit  themselves  holy,  or  feel  them- 
selves hap])y;  not  considering,  that  if  their 
hope  is  founded  on  falsehood,  their  whole 
religion  is  a  deceit.  But  they  who  are 
taught  of  God,  are  not  led  by  fond  conjec- 
tures ;  they  will  not  be  satisfied  with  any 
other  reason  of  their  hope,  than  the  ■  voice 
of  that  God  who  speaks  in  the  conscience  ; 
and  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  the  guilty  given 
to  be  trusted  in,  is  the  only  foundation  that 
God  has  laid  in  Zion. 

I  have  only  to  add,  that  the  manner  in 
which  the  subject  is  treated,  that  is,  by  short 
remarks  on  the  passages  we  are  concerned 
with,  was  the  way  in  which  the  subject  was 
treated  for  Mr.  Hervey's  view  ;  and  as  I 
could  think  of  no  shorter  method  of  de- 
fence, it  is  so  presented  to  the  public. 


LETTERS 


MR.  HERVEY  TO  THE  AUTHOR. 


Wcsfon-FavfU,  April  ]  5,  1755. 
Dear  Sir, — Last  night  I  received  your 
kind  letter;*  and  this  morning  I  have  l)Ut 
a  moment's  space  in  which  to  acknowledge 
it.  However,  I  cannot  neglect  the  first  op- 
portunity. Are  you  the  author  that  has 
given  us  an  abridgment  of  Mr.  Marshall  ? 
Truly,  I  think  you  have  well  bestowed  your 
labour,  and  well  executed  your  work.  1 
wisli  you  had  not  given  yourself  the  trouble 
of  sending  me  the  book,  because  I  have  it, 
and  higlily  ])rizc  it — the  abridgment,  I  mean. 
I  should  be  very  glad  if  you  would  read 
that  Dialogue  you  niciilion  with  a  critical 
attention — if  you  would  point  out  the  places 
where  you  tliiidc  I  am  confused  in  my  ap- 
l)rehcnsions,  injudicious  in  method,  or  weak 


*  When  I  perceived,  by  his  first  edition  of  Theron 
and  Aspasio,  that  he  had  so  publicly  espoused  the 
truths  for  which  1  had  incurred  the  displeasure  of 
many  of  his  professed  friends  and  admirers  I  wrote 
him,  sipiifying  my  fellowship  with  him  ii  he  de- 
spised truth. 


in  argument.  As  you  have  so  thoroughly 
studied  the  point,  and  so  often  taught  the 
doctrine,  you  must  easily  see  where  the  es- 
say lies  most  open  to  objection,  and  where 
the  point  might  receive  additional  strength. 
You  would  much  oblige  me  if  you  would 
do  this  with  the  utmost  impartiality  and 
freedom  ;  and  I  hope  you  woidd  do  service 
to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  Several  per- 
sons, I  find,  are  dissatisfied  with  my  opinion 
on  this  head.  Do,  Sir,  review  Dialogue 
IG,  and  favour  me  with  your  fiee  remarks 
and  friendly  improvements.  Whatever  of 
this  kind  is  done,  Ibt>g  may  be  done  speedily  ; 
because  a  new  edition  is  in  the  i)ress,  and 
the  printers  will  soon  come  to  that  part. 
When  I  hear  from  you  again,  I  will  speak 
my  sentiments  with  relation  to  your  well 
calculated  design  of  an  evangelical  library.* 


♦  An  intended  collection  of  the  most  evanpelicil 
])icces,  from  the  beginning  of  the  Reformation  <lowa 
to  the  present  day.    And  as  nothing  wai  designed  but 


aU  Mil.  HERVE 

At  present,  I  have  leisure  only  to  assure 
you,  that  I  am,  dear  Sir,  your  alfectionate 
friend  in  Jesus  Christ, 


Mil.  HERVEY'S  LETTERS 


James  Hervey, 


April  22. 

Dear  Sir, — I  received  your  present  by  the 
coach  ;  I  thank  you  for  it,  and  am  much 
pleased  with  it.  The  doctrine*  which  you 
approve  in  my  essay,  and  have  clearly  dis- 
played and  fully  proved  in  your  own  writ- 
ings, is  not  relished  by  every  body;  no,  not 
by  many  pious  people.  I  take  the  liberty 
to  send  you  a  couple  of  letters  containing- 
objections. f  I  wish  you  would  be  so  kind 
as  to  consider  them,  and  in  your  concise 
way,  which  I  much  admire,  to  make  yom- 
remarks  upon  them.  One  of  the  letters,  in 
case  it  exactly  coincided  with  my  sentiments, 
I  should  think  too  diffuse  and  prolix.  I 
love  to  have  the  force  and  spirit  of  a  subject 
contracted  into  a  small  compass,  and  exhi- 
bited to  our  minds  in  one  clear  and  easy 
view.  Long  discourses  and  protracted  ar- 
guments dissipate  the  attention,  and  over- 
whelm the  memory.  I  think  you  are  very 
happy  in  expressing  yourself  %vith  a  brevity 
that  is  striking,  yet  perspicuous. 

I  am  not  shaken  in  my  opinion  by  these 
attacks  ;  but  I  should  be  glad  to  deliver  it 
more  clearly,  and  est&blish  it  more  firmly, 
in  another  edition.  If  you  can  spare  a  little 
time  from  your  own  ^labours,  1  hope  you 
will  gratify  me  in  this  request ;  and  I  trust 
he  whom  you  serve  will  make  it  a  blessing 
to  me  and  to  others. 

I  would  beg  of  you  to  return  these  letters, 
and  if  the  Lord  should  enable  you,  with  free 
observations  on  the  most  material  points,  as 
soon  as  possible  ;  because  our  new  edition 
goes  on  apace,  and  wiil^soon  come  to  Dia- 
logue 16.  I  have  some  thoughts  of  enlarg- 
ing it  a  little,  and  dividing  it  into  two  Dia- 
logues. At  present  it  is  rather  too  long  to 
be  read  at  once. 

I  heartily  wish  you  success  in  your  pro- 
jected work.  I  assure  you  it  is  my  opinion, 
that  such  a  work,  if  well  executed,  will  be 
one  of  the  most  valuable  services  to  the  pre- 
sent age.     You  will  not,    I  hope,   be  too 

hasty.      Mr.  W has   huddled  over  his 

performance  in  a  most  precipitate,  and  there- 
fore most  imperfect  manner.  One  would 
think  his  aim  was,  not  to  select  the  best  and 


the  marrow  of  each  performance,  so  he  judged  it 
might  he  comprised  in  six  volumes,  and  desired  that 
an  abridgment  of  Theron  and  Aspasio  might  have  a 
place  in  one  volume  of  it. 

*  This  was  a  summary  of  doctrine,  extracted  from 
rheronand  Aspasio,  in  Aspasio's  own  words. 

t  These  objectors  were  adding  no  revealed  truth  to 
our  minds,  but,  on  the  contrary,  were  only  attempt- 
ing to  overthrow  the  solid  foundation  laid  for  the 
hope,  confidence,  and  salvation  of  guilty  sinners; 
that  whicli  makes  the  gospel  glad  tidings  indeed  to 
sucli. 


noblest  passages,  but  to  reprint  those  which 
came  first  to  hand.  If  I  live  to  see  another 
edition  of  Theron  and  Aspasio  published,  I 
will  desire  your  acceptance  of  a  set,  and  I 
hope  it  will  be  improved  and  enriched  with 
your  observations ;  which  will  be  a  favour 
acknowledged  by,  dear  Sir,  your  affectionate 
friend  in  Jesus  Christ, 

James  Hervey. 
P.  S.  Pray  do  not  spare  my  own  'per- 
formance, but  freely  animadvert  upon  Aspa- 
sio. I  am  sensible  he  sometimes  speaks 
unguardedly,  and  sometimes  seems  incon- 
sistent with  himself. 


Dear  Sir, — I  received  your  last  valuable 
letter,  and  sincerely  thank  you  for  the  judi- 
cious observations  it  contained.  Your 
other  letter  also,  which  conveyed  an  answer 

to ,  came  safe  to  hand.     How  is  it, 

dear  Sir,  that  godly*  people  are  so  averse  to 
this  doctrine. -f- 

I  have  another  letter  from ,  con- 
taining remarks  upon,  and  objections  to 
Mr.  Marshall.  I  would  transmit  it  to  you 
by  this  conveyance,  but  I  remember  you 
have  already  work  upon  your  hands.  In 
my  next  it  shall  wait  upon  you.  My  only 
aim,  I  trust,  is  to  find  out  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus  ;  which,  at  present,  I  am  convinced 
is  with  you.  There  is  so  much  clearness 
and  simplicity  in  your  doctrine,  it  is  so  suit- 
able to  the  goodness  of  God,  and  so  emi- 
nently conducive  to  the  comfort,  recovery, 
and  happiness  of  a  sinner,  that  1  cannot  be 
persuaded  to  relinquish  it.  I  should  be 
glad  to  maintain  it  in  a  convincing,  yet  the 
most  inoffensive  manner.  I  propose  to  al- 
lot two  Dialogues  for  this  very  important 
subject.  How,  in  what  form  or  order, 
would  you  advise  me  to  proceed  ?  Pray  do 
not  scruple  to  express  yourself  with  all  pos- 
sible freedom.  Direct  and  correct  as  a 
friend  and  fellow-labourer,  J  &c. 


Mai/  8. 
Dear  Sir, — Last  night  I  received  the  fa- 
vour of  your  two  packets,  and  I  assure  you 
a  real  favour  I  esteem  them.   Your  answers 


*  Mr.  Hervey  here  uses  theyf/ordgndlt/,  in  the  com- 
mon signification  of  it,  as  distinguishing  the  religi- 
ous from  those  who  profess  no  religion;  but,  in  the 
Scripture  sense  of  the  word,  it  is  confined  to  those 
whose  religion  is  formed  by  the  belief  and  loveof  that 
truth  which  came  from  God  for  the  hope  of  the  guilty. 

f  These  godly  people  he  mentions,  mistook  him 
continually,  by  apprehending  all  he  said  in  the  light 
of  the  properly  qualified  faith;  whereas  his  appre- 
hension was  totally  in  the  light  of  free  salvation  to 
the  guilty,  as  the  ground  of  immediate  confidence; 
and  as  they  could  make  no  hesitation  about  confiding 
in  the  Lord,  if  (as  they  termed  it)  their  evidences  were 
clear,  so  he  made  no  hesitation  about  confiding  in  the 
Lord,  as  a  guilty  sinner;  the  divine  declarations  to 
the  guilty  answering  to  hira  as  the  foundation  of  hit 
confidence,  as  their  evidences  would  to  them,  if  they 
could  conceive  them  to  be  clear. 

t  The  remainder  of  this  letter  is  lost. 


TO  MR.  CUDWORTII. 


575 


are  so  clear,  so  consistent,  so  comfortable, 
they  very  much  tend  to  establish  my  mind. 
I  find  by  your  experience,  the  "account,  1 
mean,  of  God's  dealings  with  your  sonl," 
that  you  have  incurred,  but  surely  without 
any  just  cause,  the  displeasure  of  many. 
Now,  as  this  is  the  case,  my  dear  Sir,  let  us 
act  prudently,  be  wise  as  serpents.  Do  not 
think,  I  beg  of  you,  that  I  am  ashamed  of 
your  friendship.  God  forbid !  But  as  I 
have  some  concern,  and  you  have  a  greater 
zeal  for  these  precious  doctrines,  let  us  use 
the  most  probable  means  to  spread  them. 
You  know  the  power  of  prejudice  is  great ; 
is  almost  incredible.  Many  people,  were 
they  to  know  that  you  and  I  have  been  lay- 
ing our  counsels  together,  perhaps  would 
never  look  into  my  book.  We  seem  now 
to  have  a  favourable  opportunity  of  diffusing 
these  sacred  and  delightful  truths.*  My 
books  have  been  well  spoken  of  in  three  of 
the  London  Magazines  successively ;  and 
there  is  printing  a  new  edition.  The  Lord 
Jesus,  the  Wonderful  Counsellor,  direct 
us  in  this  truly  important  affair.  I  will  now, 
relying  on  his  imerring  Spirit,  set  about 
preparing  the  16th  Dialogue  for  the  press  ; 
and  I  should  be  very  desirous  to  have  it  pass 
under  your  examination,  before  it  is  launch- 
ed into  the  world.  You  will  give  me  leave 
to  expect  an  answer  ;  and  let  me  know  from 
time  to  time  where  a  letter  may  find  you, 
sent  by,  dear  Sir,  your  obliged  and  affection- 
ate brother  in  Christ  Jesus, 

J.  Hervey. 


'Mat/ 31. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  been  so  poorly  in  my 
health,  and  so  much  engaged  in  company, 
that  I  could  not  possibly  get  the  enclosed 
ready  before  this  time  ;  whuh  is  the  cause, 
the  only  cause  of  my  deferring  my  thanks 
for  your  last  favour. 

As  to  the  doctrine  under  consideration,  I 
have  given  a  favourable  and  attentive  ear  to 
all  that  is  said  against  it ;  and  yet  the  more 
it  is  attacked,  the  more  I  am  convinced  of 
its  ti-uth.  The  Lord  Jesus  enable  me  to 
deliver  and  testify,  with  clearness  of  senti- 
ment and  meekness  of  temper,  v.'hat  1  am 
persuaded  ni  my  own  conscience  is  the  true 
gospel  of  grace  !  The  enclosed  paper  con- 
tains some  of  the  alterations  which  1  propose 
to  make.  Another  sheet  will  comprise  the 
remainder.  Let  me  desire  you,  dear  Sir, 
to  examine  them,  and  remark  upon  them, 
as  freely  and  impartially  as  you  have  done 
upon  other  papers.  Piay  treat  me  with  a 
kind  severity.  Whatever  sentence  or  ex- 
pression appears  wrong,  I   beg  of  you  ani- 


•  How  evidently  does  Mr.  Sandeman  appear  to  l)e 
mistaken,  in  calling  this  the  popular  doctrine,— in 
judging  that  Mr.  Hfrvc^  had  gained  a  imblic  esteerr. 
un  ihe  account  of  it  '■ 


madvert,  correct,  spare  it  not.  I  assure  you 
I  can  bear  to  be  told,  by  your  friendly  pen 
at  least,  This  is  not  evangehcal — here  you 
contradict  yourself — this  is  redundant,  and 
that  ambiguous.  Please  to  make  little  marks 
of  reference  in  the  MS.  and  pen  down  your 
observations  on  a  separate  paper. 

I  think  to  drop  my  first  design  of  dividing 
the  essay  into  two  Dialogues,  and  answering 
the  various  objections.  This  I  intend  to 
postpone  for  the  present ;  and  would  print 
no  more  than  is  needful  to  explain,  establish, 
and  guard  the  tenet.  I  think  to  add,  in  a 
note,  a  friendly  invitation  to  any  serious  and 
ingenious  person  on  the  other  side  of  the 
question,  to  debate  and  sift  this  very  im- 
portant point ;  professing,  that  if  it  can  be 
proved  erroneous,  I  will  retract  and  re- 
nounce it,  not  only  without  reluctance,  but 
with  pleasure  and  thankfulness.  Truth, 
the  truth  of  the  gospel,  is  my  pearl ;  wher- 
ever I  find  it,  thither,  without  respect  to 
names  or  persons,  would  I  resort,  and  there 
would  I  abide.  May  that  gracious  promise 
be  fulfilled  to  us  in  our  searches,  "  The 
Lord  shall  guide  thee  continually  !"  I  hope 
to  send  you  very  soon  the  residue  ;  and  am, 
dear  Sir,  your*  obliged  and  affectionate 
friend  in  Christ  Jesus. 

J.  Hervey. 


Ju7ie  12. 

Dear  Sir, — Last  night  I  was  favoured 
with  your  second  letter,  and  sincerely  thank 
you  for  the  freedom  you  have  used,  and  the 
corrections  you  have  made.  Herewith  I 
send  the  remainder  of  Dialogue  16;  those 
parts,  I  mean,  that  are  to  undergo  some  al- 
teration. I  wish  you  could  borrow  the 
larger  edition  ;  to  that  the  numeral  refer- 
ences are  made,  as  from  that  the  new  edi- 
tion is  printing.  I  hope  you  will  be  so  kind 
as  to  examine  this  MS.  also  with  a  friendly 
severity.  Spare  no  sentiment  or  expression, 
I  beseech  you,  that  so  much  as  seems  con- 
trary to  the  soiuid  words  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  If  you  see  any  thing  that  may  con- 
veniently be  omitted,  I  wish  you  would  en- 
close it  in  a  parenthesis,  for  1  fear  the  Dia- 
logue will  be  too  long,  and  overwhelm  the 
attention. 

1  am  sorry  that  I  am  so  straitened  in 
time,  and  can  say  no  more  :  my  servant 
waits,  and  if  I  delay  him  any  longer,  will  be 
too  late  to  despatch  some  necessary  busi- 
ness for  the  family.  Be  pleased  to  favour 
me  with  your  observations  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible, because  the  printers  will,  if  they  are 
delayed  much  longer,  be  tempted  to  impa- 
tience. 1  should  be  glad  if  you  would  make 
Weston  in  your  way  when  you  return  from 
Norwich.  May  the  Lord  Jesus  strengthen 
your  judgment,  make  you  of  quick  under- 
standing, and  enable   you   to   detect   every 


576 


MR.  HERVEYS  LETTERS 


thing  in  my  poor  essny  that  is  not  agreeable 
to  his  word  ! — I  am  in  doubt  whether  this 
letter  should  be  directed  to  you  at  London 
or  Norwich.  A  mistake  in  this  particular 
may  cause  a  longer  delay  in  the  affair.  The 
cll-seeing  God  guide  me  in  every  thing  !  I 
choose  London,  and  hope  it  will  come  to 
your  hand  before  you  set  out.  I  am,  dear 
Sir,  your  obliged  and  truly  affectionate  friend 
in  Christ  Jesus, 

J.  Hervey. 


July  6. 

Dear  Sin, — I  should  be  very  glad,  and 
much  obliged,  if  you  could  give  me  your 
company  in  your  return  from  Norwich,  that 
we  may  thoroughly  canvass,  and  carefully 
examine  the  important  subject  of  our  cor- 
respondence. I  have  ordered  the  printers 
to  keep  their  types,  composed  for  this  part 
of  my  work,  standing;  and  to  proceed  with 
the  remainder  before  this  is  worked  off.  So 
that  1  hope  to  have  the  whole  in  proof- 
sheets  to  lay  before  you  in  one  view,  pro- 
vided you  could  favour  me  with  your  com- 
pany pretty  soon. 

A  celebrated  divine  from  abroad  writes 
thus,  in  a  private  letter  to  his  friend  ;  in 
which  he  speaks  the  very  sentiments  of  my 
heart ;  and,  I  apprehend,  of  yours  also. 

"  I  apprehend  Mr.  Hervey's  definition  of 
faith  will  exj)ose  him  most  to  the  gen- 
erality of  divines,  both  of  the  church  of 
England  and  dissenters  ;  though  it  is  a  very 
good  one,  when  well  explained.  The  per- 
suasion or  assurance  which  is  in  the  very 
nature  of  faith,  must  be  carefully  distin- 
guished from  that  which  has,  in  a  maimer, 
appropriated  the  name  of  assurance  to  it- 
self; I  mean  that  exercise  of  spiiitual  sense 
following  upon  saving  faith,  whereby  a  be- 
liever sees,  and,  upon  good  grounds,  con- 
cludes himself  to  be  in  a  state  of  grace  and 
salvation,  and  that  he  has  an  actual  interest 
in  Christ,  and  his  whole  purchase,  even 
eternal  life.  The  foundation  of  this  assur- 
ance of  sense,  is  the  believer's  experience 
and  feeling  of  what  the  Holy  Ghost  has  al- 
ready wrought  in  his  soul,  and  it  runs  into 
this  conclusion  :  '  I  find  the  fruits  of  the 
Spirit  planted  in  my  soul — I  am  a  new  crea- 
ture— I  love  the  Lord  Jesus  in  sincerity  ; 
and  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  burdens  of  my 
life,  that  I  have  no  love  suited  to  so  glorious 
a  One.*  From  all  which,  I  am  suie,  God 
has  given  me  Christ,  pardoned  my  sins ;  I 
am  in  a  state  of  grace,  and  must  go  to  glory. ' 
But  the  ground  and  foundation  of  that  par- 
ticular persuasion  and  assurance,  which  is  in 
the  nature  of  savnig  faith,  is   the  glorious 


authority  and  faithfulness  of  God  in  the 
gospel  record,  promise,  and  offer ;  and  it 
rises  no  higher  than  this,  that  God  offers, 
and  thereby,  as  he  is  true  and  faitlifid,  gives 
Christ  with  all  his  fulness  to  me,  to  be  be- 
lieved on,  and  trusted  in,  for  life  and  eter- 
nal salvation.*  So  that  I  not  only  safely 
and  warrantably  may,  but  am  obliged,  to  le- 
ceive,  apply,  and  make  use  of  Jesus  Christ, 
as  my  own  Saviour,  by  resting  on  him,  and 
trusting  to  him  as  such.  Jehovah's  great 
gift,  offer,  and  promise,  gives  every  sinner  a 
sufficient  warrant  to  do  this,  and  are  a 
strong  immoveable  foundation  for  this  per- 
suasion or  assurance  of  faith.  Nor  can  any 
other  solid  satisfying  answer  be  given  to  a 
broken-hearted,  humbled  creature,-|-  who 
puts  away  from  himself  the  gracious  pro- 
mises and  offers  of  the  gospel  upon  this  ill- 
grounded  imagination,  that  they  do  not  be- 
long to  him  :  To  whom  it  always  may,  and 
ought  to  be  answered,  That  they  do  belong 
to  him,  in  the  sense  I  have  mentioned."^ 

This  extract  is,  I  think,  the  precise  ex- 
planation of  our  doctrine.  If  you  find  any 
expression  not  exactly  suited  to  your  opin- 
ion, please  to  observe  it.  I  am,  dear  Sir, 
your  affectionate  and  obliged  brother  in 
Christ,  J.  Hervev. 


August  i. 

Dear  Mr.  Cudworth, — Last  night  1 
received  your  favour,  and,  according  to  your 
request,  have  written  to  my  excellent  friend, 
without  delaying  a  single  post.  The  Lord 
Jesus  accompany  my  conciliatory  offices 
with  his  heaveidy  blessing  ,' 

I  hope  you  had  a  good  journty,  and  arc 
well  in  health,   and  joyful   through   faith. 

W'e  shall  all  be  glad  to  hcai'  that  

bore  his  journey  comfortably,  and  is  return- 
ed home  more  and  more  established  in  the 
love  of  his  blessed  Lord. 


«  This  manner  of  expression, which  this  friend  never 
learned  from  the  Siriptures,  but  catched  (as  I  sup- 
jiose)  through  common  custom,  savours  too  much  of 
the  Icawn  of  the  I'liarisccs. 


*  This  is  well  expressed,  and  evidently  distinguishes 
his  meaning  of  the  word  ajfer,  from  the  oner  of  a 
bargain  to  any  who  will  come  up  to  the  terms.  He 
evidently  means  the  real  grant  of  the  blessings,  as 
vv'lien  money,  food,  and  clothing,  are  ofl'ered  to  the 
poor,  famished,  or  naked. 

t  If  this  gentleman,  by  a  hrnke.n-hearted,  humbled 
cnmtiii-e,  means  some  that  were  hereby  more  quali  tied 
for  mercy  than  the  rest,  he  would  difter  from  us  wide- 
ly: but  if,  (as  I  apprehend)  he  only  means  those 
vvhose  criminal  remorse  renders  them  absolutely  des- 
titute of  every  other  hope  .than  by  Christ  alone,  we 
are  of  one  miiid. 

i  One  of  the  most  evangelical  appearing  objections 
against  this  grant  of  Christ  to  be  believed  on,  is 
"  That,  according  to  this  doctrine,  the  free  gift  docs 
not  secure  their  reigning  in  life  on  whom  it  is  bestow- 
ed :  because  they  may  rise  to  damnation  for  all  that 
abundance  of  thegift."  To  which  it  may  be  answered. 
That  gift,  though  to  sinners  indefinitely,  that  they 
may  live  by  it,  vet  is  a  non-entity  to  every  one  till  he 
hears  it,  aiid  no  conveyance  of  righteousness  to  any 
man  that  does  not  believe  it  according  to  that  which 
is  spoken.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  where  a  imn 
does  really  believe  it,  he  undoubtedly  lives  by  it: 
.nml  there  "  grace  reigns  through  righteousness  19 
eternal  life,"  over  all  who  are  thus  l)egotten  again. 


TO  MR.  CUDWORTH 


577 


I  liope  you  do  not  forgot  nie  and  my  fa- 
mily, my  people,  and  my  work  at  the  press. 
May  the  good  Lord  prosper  you,  and  your 
labours  of  love ! 

I  am  much  straitened  for  time,  and  can 
add  no  more  at  present,  but  that  I  am  yours 
most  cordially,  J-  Hehvey. 


September  9. 

Dear  Mr.  Cudworth, — Mv.   W d 

lias  been  with  nie,  and  went  away  last  week. 
We  had  much  talk  concerning  you.  I  told 
him  what  I  thought  of  yoiu'  conversation 
and  doctrine.  What  I  could  urge  seemed 
to  make  no  impression.  I  assure  you  my 
esteem  for  you  is  not  diminished.  I  am 
more  and  more  persuaded,  that  your  method 
of  stating  that  grand  and  precious  doctrine, 
the  doctrine  of  faith  in  Christ,  is  the  truth 
of  the  gosj)el.  Your  company,  whenever 
you  come  this  way,  will  be  truly  acceptable 
to  all  my  family. 

I  wish  you  would  inform  me  of  the  mis- 
takes ^\'hich  you  apprehend  to  be  in  Dr. 
Crisp's  sermons.  I  have  the  new  edition, 
intend  to  read  them  very  attentively,  and 
should  be  glad  of  your  cautionary  hints. 

Pray,  let  me  hear  from  you  soon  ;  and 
believe  me  to  be,  dear  Sir,  your  corchal  and 
faithful  friend,  J.  Hervey. 


October  9. 

Dear  Mr.  Cudworth, — I  received  your 
welcome  letter  from  London.  I  should 
have  answered  it  much  sooner,  but  I  had 
quite  foigot  where  to  direct.  The  direc- 
tion was  given  in  the  first  letter  you  ever 
wrote  to  me,  which,  consisting  or)ly  of  kind 
arul  fi-iendiy  expressions,  I  suffered  to  perish, 
as  I  do  all  letters  of  that  kind.  Your  other 
epistolary  favours  I  carefully  preserve.  I 
have  waited  and  waited,  one  day  after  an- 
other, in  hopes  of  seeing  you  at  Weston  in 
your  return  to  Norwich  ;  and  have  been  un- 
easy in  myself,  lest  you  sliould  think  I  ne- 
glect your  correspondence.  Indeed  I  do 
not.  Neitlier  do  I  forget  my  ])romise.  1 
have  a  set  of  the  new  edition  reserved  on 
purpose  for  yon  ;  to  be  delivered  into  your 
own  hand,  if  you  cull  u])on  me.  Or  I  will 
order  a  set  to  be  left  for  you  in  Loiulon, 
wherever  you  shall  appoint. 

I  sincerely  thank  you  for  the  copy  of  your 
letter.  The  sentiments  are  such  as  I  wish 
to  have  written  on  my  heart  ;  such  as  I 
wish  to  speak  and  teach  while  I  hve  ;  and 
in  my  writings,  if  my  writings  survive  me, 
to  testify  when  I  am  dead.  May  the  good 
Lord  I)ear  witness  to  such  doctiiric,  by  mak- 
ing it  healmg  to  tlie  conscience,  and  finit- 
ful  in  the  conversation. 

Your  treatise  of  Alaiks  and  Evidences  1 
will  attentively  read.      If  any  thing  occius 


which  seems  to  need  explication  oi  altera- 
tion, I  will  most  freely  communicate  it. 
Pray  let  me  hear  from  you  soon.     Inform 

me  how  you  go  with  Mr.  .     Depend 

upon  it,  1  will  do  you  all  the  service  that 
lies  in  my  power.  Not  merely  because  you 
are  a  friend  whom  I  esteem,  but  also  because 
I  am  .persuaded  you  work  the  work  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  To  whose  tender  love  I  com- 
mend yourself  and  your  labours ;  and  am, 
dear  Sir,  your  truly  affectionate  friend, 
J.  Hervey. 


NoveniJicr  8. 
My  Dear  Friend, — Your  welcome  letter 
is  now  in  my  hand.  I  thank  you  for  the 
remarks  it  contains.  The  Lord  make  us 
of  quick  understanding  in  the  fear  of  the 
Lord  ! 

I  have  read  the  treatise  concerning  Marks 
and  Evidences.  I  am  going,  as  soon  as  I 
have  despatched  this  letter,  to  read  it  again. 
If  to  do  the  heart  good  be  a  sign  of  its  va- 
lue, I  can  very  confitlently  bear  this  testi- 
mony to  its  worth.  It  refreshes  my  spirit, 
and  comforts  my  soul.  I  hope,  when  re- 
published, it  will  be  attended  with  this 
blessed  effect  to  multitudes  of  readers.  I 
believe  it  would  be  advisable  to  send  it 
abroad  without  a  name,  and  commit  it  whol- 
ly to  the  disposal  of  Him  who  is  head  over 
all  things  to  the  churfrh. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  little  treatise  written 
by  one  Mr.  Beart,  formerly  pastor  of  a 
church  in  the  place  where  you  now  reside  ? 
It  is  styled,  "  A  Vindication  of  the  Eternal 
Law  and  Everlasting  Gospel."  It  is  but 
very  lately  that  it  came  to  my  iiaiuls.  It 
appears  to  me  a  truly  valuable  piece.  I  for- 
got to  desire,   that   you  would  present  my 

most  cordial  salutations  to  Mr .      It  is 

not  for  want  of  esteem  that  I  do  not  write 
to  him,  but  for  want  of  health  and  multipli- 
city of  engagements.  I  should  be  very  glad 
if  we  would  communicate,  with  all  freedom, 
any  remarks  that  he  himself  has  made,  or 
has  heard  froui  others,  relating  to  Therou 
aiul  Aspasio. 

Mr.  called  upon  me,  about  ten  days 

ago,  in  his  return  to  London.  He  staid 
only  to  make  a  hasty  breakfast,  so  that  I 
had  very  little  conversation  with  him.  I 
hope  the  God  of  power,  and  the  CJod  of 
peace,  will  unite  our  hearts  in  the  love  of 
the  Spirit,  and  unite  our  hands  in  tlie^work 
of  tile  Lord. 

There  is  no  stage  goes  from  Northamp- 
ton to  Suffolk.  I  believe  I  may  convey  a 
parcel  by  the  Cambridge  carrier.  I  will 
incpiire  of  him  ulicn  he  comes  this  way;, 
and,  if  it  is  a  practicable  thing,  y.ni  shall  have 
tlu'  books  by  his  next  rettn-n. 

We  shall  all  be  glad   to   entertain   you  at 
Weston  ;  and  my  best   i>rayers  will  always 
•J  I- 


578 


MR.  HERVEVS  LETTERS 


accompany  your  labours  in  the  Lord.  I 
send  a  frank,  lest  your  stock  should  be  ex- 
hausted. Write  to  noe  soon,  and  pray  for 
me  ever,  who  am,  dear  Sir,  your  affection- 
ate brother  in  Christ, 

J.  Heuvey. 


November  23. 

My  deak  Friend, — I  sent,  last  week,  by 
the  Cambridge  carrier,  a  set  of  my  books. 
He  promised  me  to  deliver  them  to  the 
Bury  carrier  ;  and  I  hope  by  this  time  they 
have  reached  your  hands.  Whenever  you 
peep  upon  them,  pray  be  so  kind  as  to  note 
down  any  expressions  or  sentiments  that 
are  not  thoroughly  evangelical.  I  shall  be 
pleased  with  them,  and  thankful  for  them, 
even  though  I  should  not  have,  through  the 
want  of  a  new  edition,  an  opportunity  of 
inserting  them  in  my  volumes. 

I  have  been  thinking  of  your  proposal  to 
republish  your  treatise  on  Marks  and  Evi- 
fleiices.  Suppose  you  transmit  it,  detached 
from  any  other  piece,  under  a  frank  to  me  : 
Suppose  I  send  it  to  an  understanding  and 
sagacious  friend  ;  and  learn  his  sentiments, 
and  get  his  critical  observations  on  it :  By 
this  means  you  will  see  what  is  likely  to 
give  offence,  or  meet  with  objection  ;  and 
may  perhaps  be  enabled  so  to  form  your  ar- 
guments, so  to  draw  up  your  forces,  as  to 
prevent  or  baffle  any  attack.  If  you  ap- 
prove of  this  scheme,  send  me  a  copy  of 
the  piece,  tearing  off  the  title-page,  and  I 
will  immediately  convey  it  to  a  friend,  who 
lives  at  a  great  distance  from  London,  who 
knows  nothing  of  the  author,  and  will  give 
me  his  opinion  without  favour  or  disaffec- 
tion. 

Lest  you  should  not  be  furnished  with  a 
fiiink,  I  send  the  enclosed.  My  sister  is 
gone  from  home  ;  my  mother  is  in  health, 
and  will  always  be  glad  of  such  conversation 
as  yours  ;  which  will  be  equally  agreeable 
to,  dear  Sir,  your  affectionate  friend  and 
brother  in  Christ  Jesus, 

J.  Hervey. 


January  26,  1756. 

My  dear  Friend, — I  received,with  plea- 
sure and  gratitude,  your  letter  and  its  con- 
tents. Would  have  made  my  acknowledg- 
ments immediately,  but  waited  a  post  or 
tvvo,^n  hopes  of  transmitting  to  you  some 
remarks  on  your  treatise.  But  my  friend 
has  not  sent  them.  As  soon  as  they  come, 
they  shall  be  forwarded  ia  you. 

I  am  very  much  pleased  with  your  ex- 
planation of  In  the  Lord  have  I  riyhteousness. 
"/a  sinner,  not  I  a  new  or  sanctified  crea- 
ture." This  is  encouraging,  this  is  delight- 
ful, it  is  like  a  door  opened  in  the  ark  for 
me,   even  for   me  to   enter.       Blessed    he 


God  for  such  truths  !  Such  truths  make  the 
gospel  glad  tidings  indeed  to  my  soul.  They 
are  the  very  thing  which  I  want,  and  the 
only  thing  which  can  give  me  comfort,  or 
do  me  good. 

When  people  inquire,  whether  sanctifica- 
tion  is  an  evidence  of  justification  ?  I  sup- 
pose by  sanctification  they  mean  what  St. 
Paul  calls  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit — love  of 
God,  charity  to  man,  meekness,  temperance, 
&c.  Now,  may  we  not  allow  these  to  be 
proper  evidences  of  faith,  but  maintain,  that 
the  appropriating  faith,  or  the  faith  of  per- 
suasion,* is  the  appointed  means  of  produc- 
ing them  ?  "  The  life  which  I  live  in  the 
flesh,-'  the  life  of  holiness,  usefulness,  and 
comfort,  "  I  live  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of 
God."  What  this  faith  is,  he  explains  in 
the  next  sentence  ;  by  viewing  the  Son  of 
God,  "  as  loving  me,  and  giving  himself  for 
me."  Pray  favour  me  with  your  opinion 
of  1  John  iii.  19.  This  seems  one  of  the 
texts  least  reconcilable  with  our  doc- 
trine. 

I  have  a  long  letter  from  a  new  hand, 
wrote  very  fair,  and  drawn  up  in  an  ela- 
borate manner,  in  opposition  to  my  account 
of  faith,  and  to  several  parts  of  Dialogue 
16.  It  consists  of  five  sheets  wrote  on 
every  side  ;  too  large,  I  apprehend,  to  come 
under  a  frank,  otherwise  I  would  transmit 
it  to  you  for  your  perusal.  I  hope  to  see 
you  ere  long;  then  we  may  examine  it  to- 
gether. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  acquaint- 
ed with  Mr. ,  and  that  he  is  so  well 

acquainted  with  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
The  Lord  enable  him,  and  raise  up  many 
more  ministers,  to  spread  abroad  the  joyful 
sound.  When  you  give  me  your  company, 
do  not  forget  to  bring  with  you  the  evange- 
lical piece  on  the  work  of  the  Spirit  in 
bringing  a  soul  to  Christ. 

There  is  one  passage  in  Dialogue  16, 
which  I  think  s  very  injudiciously  inserted, 
and  is  really  a  mistake.  I  observed  it  a 
good  while  ago,  and  expunged  it  from  my 
copy  :  and  my  new  opposer  has  not  spared 
to  animadvert  upon  it.  What  need  have 
we  to  pray  for  that  di\dne  Guide,  "  who 
leads  into  all  truth  !"  May  this  divine 
Guide  dwell  in  us,  and  walk  in  us,  be  our 
counsellor  and  comforter  even  luito  death  ! 
Dear  Mr.  Cudworth,  1  hope,  will  not  for 
get  in  his  prayers  the  weakest  of  ministers 
and  the  weakest  of  believers,  but  his  affec- 
tionate brother  in  Christ,         J.  Hervey. 


•  By  appropnating/ailh ,  he  means  the  confidence 
arising  froiti  the  belief  of  the  truth,  of  rightcousik'ss 
and  salvation  freely  presented  to  the  guilty  in  Chiist 
Jesus,  as  their  immediate  ground  of  confidence; 
which  he  also  styles  the  faith  nf  persuasion,  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  that  which  is  described,  not  liy  what 
we  are  persuaded  of,  but  as  a  hidden,  holy  principle, 
discoverable  only  by  the  good  qualifications  which 
iHstiiiguish  us  from  others. 


TO  MR.  CUD  WORTH. 


579 


April  21. 

My  Dear  Friend, — I  received  your  val- 
uable remarks,  and  sincerely  thank  you  for 
them.  May  our  divine  Master  enable  us 
both  to  discern  and  to  display  the  truth  as 
kis  in  Jesus. 

I  am  much  pleased,  and  thoroughly  sa- 
tisfied, with  your  explanation  of  Acts  ii. 
39.  The  proposals  seem  to  me  clear,  per- 
tinent, and  weighty.  If  I  am  able  to  make 
any  slight  correction  in  the  style,  it  shall  be 
transmitted  in  my  next.  I  would  now  only 
ask,  how  far  you  have  proceeded  in  the 
work  ?  I  think  you  should  by  all  means 
get  the  greater  part,  the  whole,  I  would  ra- 
ther say,  completed,  before  you  begin  to 
publish.  If  this  is  not  done,  many  unfore- 
seen accidents  may  arise,  which  will  pro- 
bably straiten  you  in  point  of  time,  and 
oblige  you  to  be  precipitate  in  your  prepar- 
ations for  the  press.  And  I  am  inclined 
to  query,  whether  it  is  not  a  piece  of  justice 
we  owe  to  the  public,  not  to  engage  them 
in  purchasing  a  piece,  till  it  is  put  beyond 
the  power  of  common  casualties  to  render 
it  imperfect.  Pray,  therefore,  let  me  know 
what  progress  you  have  made.  I  could  wish 
to  have  it  judiciously  executed,  and  not 
performed  in  that  confused,  inaccurate, 
slovenly  manner,  which  must  be  a  continual 
discredit  to  Mr.  VV 's  Christian  Li- 
brary. 

1  rejoice  to  find  that  the  gospel  of  our 
salvation  is  spreading.  May  it  have  a  free 
course  and  an  extensive  circuit !  till  the 
fountain  becomes  a  river,  and  the  river  wi- 
dens into  a  sea  ! 

The  enclosed  came  a  little  while  ago. 
My  friend  is  very  severe.  It  will  give  you 
an  opportunity  of  exercising  forbearance 
and  gentleness.  He  knows  nothing  at  all 
of  the  authoi'.  When  your  other  affairs 
will  allow  leisure,  please  to  return  the  let- 
ter, with  your  observations ;  which  will 
oblige,  and  I  trust  edify,  dear  Sir,  your  af- 
fectionate friend,  J.  Heuvey. 


May  27. 
Dear  Mr.  CtinwoRTH, — I  have  only 
time  to  beg  of  you,  if  you  have  the  letter 
of  remarks  on  Mr.  Marshall's  book,  to  re- 
turn it  to  me  as  soo*n  as  you  can.  If  there 
are  any  observations  that  are  just,  and  such 
as' animadvert  upon  passages  truly  excep- 
tionable, be  so  kind  as  to  give  me  your 
opinion  on  them.  The  reason  of  my  de- 
siring this,  is  a  prospect  of  a  new  edition 
of  Marshall.  A  bookseller  is  inclined  to 
print  one,  and  sell  it  at  half-a-crown  price  ; 
1  believe  encouraged  thereto  by  my  recom- 
mendation of  it.  The  recommendation  has 
been  printed  in  our  Northampton  newspa- 
per, and  immediately  there  was  a  demand 


for  twenty-three  of  your  abridgments. 
But  the  printer  could  not  procure  enough 
to  supply  the  demand.  Mr.  K de- 
sires you  will  send  a  fresh  supply  to  him. 
In  the  greatest  haste,  but  with  great  sin- 
cerity and  affection,  yours, 

J.  Hervey. 


ifune  1  7. 
My  dear  Friend, — This  comes  to  in- 
form you,  that  Mr.  has  begun  an  edi- 
tion of  Marshall,  in  much  the  same  size, 
and  exactly  the  same  letter,  as  Theron  and 
Aspasio.  If  you  have  any  thing  to  observe, 
pray  let  me  have  it  with  as  much  speed  as 
you  can  make.  If  you  have  Mr. 's  ob- 
jections, examine  them  attentively;  and  I 
hope  you  will  be  enabled  to  obviate  what  is 
material.  I  should  be  glad  if  you  could, 
after  you  have  digested  your  notes,  give  me 
your  company,  that  we  might  talk  them 
over.  Now  is  the  time,  in  all  probability, 
to  make  Marshall  a  well-known  spreading 
book.  I  hope  the  Lord  will  enlighten  your 
understanding,  fructify  your  invention, 
strengthen  your  judgment,  and  enable  you 
to  write  "  sound  words,  such  as  cannot  be 
condemned."  I  am,  very  affectionately, 
yours,                                       J.  Hervey. 


My  Dear  Friend, — Yesterday  I  receiv- 
ed your  letter,  and  am  much  obliged  to  you 

for  it.     Pray  do  not  mention   Mr.   's 

name,  nor  show  his  letter.  I  hope  to  ad- 
here to  the  truths  of  the  gospel ;  but  yet  I 
would  endeavour  to  live  in  harmony  of  af- 
fection, and  friendly  intercourse  at  least, 
with  those  who  differ.     I  cannot  think  that 

Mr.  could  have  any  knowledge  of  the 

author  of  the  discourse  against  Marks  and 
Evidences.  I  will  read  your  treatise  over 
again  with  my  best  attention  ;  for,  I  assure 
you,  it  always  does  me  good.      I   will  also 

compare  it  with  your  remarks  on  Mr.  , 

which  in  my  opinion  are  solid  and  satisfac- 
tory :  I  am  sure  they  are  encouraging  and 
comfortable. 

W^hen  Marshall  was  advertised  in  our 
newspaper,  the  gentleman  that  inserted  my 
recommendation  added  this  note,  to  explain 
one  sentence  :  "By  uncoiumon  road,  it  is 
presumed,  the  recommcnder  means  the  very 
evangelical  nature,  and  remarkably  instruc- 
tive method,  of  the  directions  laid  down  by 
Mr.  Marshall,  (than  whom  no  niatij  per- 
haps, was  ever  better  acquainted  wi^h  tin; 
human  heart,)  for  the  effectual  practice  of 
holiness,  as  likewise  somewhat  of  obscurity 
which  is  confessedly  in  his  3d  and  tth  di- 
lection." 

I  apprehend,  the  obscurity  of  chapter  .3il 
and  4th  arises  not  from  any  impro})t'r  man- 
ner of  treating  the   subjects,   but   from   the 


590 


MR.  HERVEYS  LETTERS 


mysterious"  nature  of  the  subjects  them- 
selves. I  will  write  to  the  bookseller  to 
suspend  his  procedure  of  the  press  till  he 
hears  farther.  But  let  this  hasten  you,  my 
dear  friend,  in  communicating  what  you 
have  to  observe.  I  should  be  glad  to  have 
our  common  favourite  as  clear  and  unexcep- 
tionable as  possible,  &c.t 


October  6. 

My  Dbar  Friend, — The  cause  of  my 

writing  is  this :  Mr- is  upon  the  point 

of  publishing  a  new  edition  of  Marshall.  I 
have  given  him  the  enclosed  letter,  to  in- 
troduce it  into  the  world ;  but  was  desirous 
to  have  you  peruse  it,  and  correct  it,  before 
it  goes  to  the  press.  Be  so  kind,  therefore, 
as  to  examine  it  strictly ;  and  wherever  you 
think  it  should  be  altered,  use5,with  it  the 
freedom  of  a  friend.  The  more  rigour,  the 
more  kindness. 

I  send  a  frank  to  be  the  vehicle  of  your 
observations,  together  with  the  printed  half- 
sheet. 

As  soon  as  I  have  finished  what  you 
mention,  it  shall  be  transmitted ;  though  I 
would  fain  see  one  of  the  books  completely 
abridged,  before  any  proposals  or  advertise- 
ments appear.  It  is  a  matter  of  great  im- 
portance ;  pray  let  it  be  executed  with  care 
and  correctness.  May  the  Keeper  of  Israel 
protect  you  in  your  journeys,  and  the  Light 
of  the  world  guide  you  in  your  work  !  Af- 
fectionately yours, 

J.  Hervey. 


December  24. 

My  Dear  Friend,— Mr.  told  Mr. 

W d  that  I  offered  to  write  a  preface  to 

your  remarks  on  his  sermons.      I  told  Mr- 

W d  the  whole  of  the  affair  :   That  you 

informed  me  of  your  design,  and  what  I 
answered  :  That  I  desired  it  might  be  con- 
ducted in  a  tender  and  respectful  manner  : 
That  the  title  should  be  more  friendly  and 
benign  :  That  you  read  what  you  proposed 
to  say  concerning  my  mentioning  of  Mar- 
shall ;  which  I  observed  was  inexpressive  : 
If  you  said  any  thing,  I  thought  it  should 
be  more  weighty  and  significant.  This  was 
all  the  concern  I  had  in  the  affair. 

That  I  had  promised,  not  offered  (for  I 
do  not  remember  I  ever  did  such  a  thing  in 
my  life)  to  write  a  recommendatory  intro- 
duction to  the  work  which  you  have  in  hand  : 
That  it  was  at  your  request,  but  with  the 
real  approbation  of  my  judgment ;  for  I  ap- 
prehended that  your  design,  when  well  exe- 


♦  Mysterious,  because  contrary  to  our  natural  no- 
tions, the  "natural  man  not  receiving  the  things  of 
the  Spirit  of  God." 

t  The  rcmaiiidcr  of  this  letter  is  lost. 


cuted,  would  be  a  valuable  present  to  tiie 
world. 

This  comes  by  a  gentleman  who   knows 

you.      Let  me   hear  what  Mr.  says 

about  the  affair.  And  remember  to  give 
me  a  direction  where  to  write  to  you.  You 
date  from  Margaret-street ;  but  this  I  sup- 
pose is  not  particular  enough.  I  can  add  no 
more,  lest  the  bearer  should  be  gone.  Only 
I  wish  you  much  success  in  preaching  Christ. 
Yours  affectionately, 

J.    liERVEY. 


My  Dear  Friend, — I  received  your  par- 
cel containing  several  copies  of  the  Friendly 
Attempt,  &c.*  My  thanks  should  have 
been  returned  sooner  ;  but  I  have  been  un- 
der that  indisposition  and  langoiu-  of  spirit, 
which  renders  me  unfit  for  every  thing. 

I  think  there  is  rather  too  much  asperity 
in  the  close  ;  and  I  wish  that  expression, 
"  refined  idolatry,"  had  been  a  little  softened. 
This  I  mention  only  to  yourself,  and  to  give 
you  a  specimen  of  that  openness  and  freedom 
which  1  would  have  take  place  in  all  our 
personal  and  epistolary  intercourses. 

I  have  read  your  manuscript  again  and 
again,  with  my  best  attention,  and  with 
much  delight.-)-  I  have  made  here  and  there 
a  small  alteration  with  regard  to  the  lan- 
guage, only  to  render  the  sense  somewhat 
more  perspicuous,  not  to  vary  the  peculiar 
cast  of  your  diction.  I  heartily  concur  in 
receiving  and  embracing  these  doctrines.  I 
think  them  to  be  truths  of  very  great  im- 
portance, and  shall  be  truly  glad  to  see  them 
in  print,  that  they  may  be  spread,  and  be 
universally  known. 

If  I  should  be  enabled  to  finish  a  fourth 
volume  of  Dialogues,  I  propose  to  have  one 
conference  on  the  assurance  of  faith  ;  J  to 
state  it  more  clearly,  and  to  establish  it  more 
strongly.  In  this,  I  shall  be  glad  to  borrow 
several  of  your  thoughts,  and  will  make  my 
acknowledgments  accordingly ;  declaring,  at 
the  same  time,  my  opinion  of  the  piece 
which  lends  me  such  valuable  assistance. 

Present  my  most  affectionate  salutations 

to .      I  received  his  obliging  letter  :    I 

most  sincerely  wish  him  success  in  display- 
ing the  unsearchable  riches  of  grace,  and  the 
infinitely  glorious  righteousness  of  Christ. 


*  A  Friendly  Attempt  to  remove  some  Fundamen- 
tal Mistakes  in  the  Rev.  Mr.  W d's  Sermons. 

t  Aphorisms  on  the  Assurance  of  Faith.  The  sub- 
stance of  them  originally  was  what  Mr.  Hervey  takes 
notice  of  in  his  letter,  dated  Oct.  9,  1755.  Afterwards 
Mr.  Hervey  desired  me  to  draw  up  the  substance  of 
the  whole  that  liad  been  canvassed,  in  as  concise  a  man- 
ner as  possible,  for  his  own  use.  This,  some  time 
after,  I  proposed  tor  printing,  and  is  the  manuscript 
here  mentioned. 

t  Or,  in  other  words,  the  confidence  thalisfoundetl 
on  the  truth  we  believe  concerning  Christ  given  to  be 
believed  on,  or  confided  in. 


TO  AIR.   CUDWORTII. 


581 


I  liope  lie  will  not  be  displeased  with  my 
Bilciicc.  It  proceeds  from  no  disrespect, 
but  from  a  multii)licily  of  engagements,  and 
a  poor  i)ittance  of  strength,  utterly  insuffi- 
cient to  fulfil  them.      Please  to  thank 

for  his  very  encouraging  and  comfortable 
letter.  I  wish,  m  hen  he  is  at  leisure,  he 
would  favour  nie  with  another  on  this  sub- 
ject—  How  holiness  springs  from  faith,  or  a 
view  of  sanctificution  as  the  effects  of- justi- 
fication. 

When  shall  I  see  you  ?     If writes 

to  me  on  the  subject  you  mention,  he  shall 
have  a  speedy  answer.  You  need  not  send 
me  the  twelve  (pierics,  because  they  have 
been  transmitted  me  from  Sccjtland.  Uut 
cease  not  to  send  up  your  prayers  and  sup- 
plications in  behalf  of  your  truly  affectionate 
friend, 

J.  Hervey. 


My  Dkar  Friend, — I  have,  with  atten- 
tion and  delight,  read  over  yoiu'  pamphlet. 
A  slight  alteration  or  two,  relating  to  the 
language,  I  have  made.  But  I  desire  you 
will  follow  the  determination  of  your  own 
judgment.  As  soon  as  they  are  printed, 
send  me  a  quarter  of  an  hundred  ;  not  as  a 
present,  but  as  a  purchase. 

The  Lord  has  lately  visited  me  with  a 
dangerous  fever  ;  which  confined  me  to  my 
room  many  days,  and  excluded  me  from  the 
pulpit  several  Sundays.  I  am  extremely 
weak  in  body.  Pray  that  I  may  be  strong 
in  the  faith  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ — in 
his  most  precious  and  everlasting  righteous- 
ness.    I  remain  ail'ectionately  yours, 

J.  Hervey. 

P.  S — Send  me  a  dozen  of  your  Apho- 
risms, when  they  are  published. 


Sept.  8,  1757. 

My  Dear  Friend, —  One  principal  cause 
of  my  long  silence,  I  do  assure  you,  was  my 
ignorance  of  the  place  of  your  residence  in 
London.  I  knew  not,  till  Mr.  yes- 
terday gave  me  a  direction,  where  to  write 
to  you. 

I  thank  you  for  your  last  packet.  But 
you  must  give  me  leave  to  insist  upon  pay- 
ing for  the  contents,  when  I  have  the  plea- 
sure of  your  company,  which  I  want  much. 
Carniot  you  take  Weston  in  your  way,  and 
contrive  to  spend  a  coui)le  of  days  with  me  ? 
I  cannot  be  satisfied  with  a  shorter  stay.  I 
have  much  to  say  to  you  ;  but  as  I  hope  to 
see  you,  and  converse  face  to  face,  1  shall 
not  attempt  to  conmiunicate  my  thoughts  by 
ink  and  pen. 

I  have  just  published  three  sermons-  If 
you  will  call  upon  Mr.  R — — 's,  in  St.  Paul's 


Church-yard,  or  tend  a  messenger  with  the 
note  subjoined  tu  this  letter,  he  will  deliver 
two  of  my  pieces.  Let  me  beg  of  you  to 
peruse  them,  with  your  pen  in  your  hand  ; 
and  to  transmit  whatever  observations  may 
occur.  I  have  some  remarks  upon  your 
Aphorisms,  which  you  shall  see  when  you 
give  me  your  company.  Have  you  seen  a 
couple  of  volumes,  lately  published,  and  en- 
titled, Letters  on  Theron  and  Aspasio  ? 
You  come  in  for  a  share  of  chastisement. 
What  is  your  opinion,  in  general,  of  this  per- 
formance ?  As  to  particular  passages,  we 
will  postpone  the  examination  of  them  till 
God's  providence  grants  us  a  personal  inter, 
view.*  Do  you  know  who  is,  or  who  is 
supposed  to  be,  the  author  of  this  piece  ? 

May  the  work  of  the  LortI  Jesus  prosper 
in  your  heart,  your  tongue,  your  pen,  arid  in 
those  of  your  truly  affectionate  friend, 

J.  Hervey". 


Feb.  22,  1 7.58. 

Dear  Mr.  Cudworth, — I  received  your 
letter,  and  return  you  my  very  sinceie 
thaidvs  for  your  remarks.-)-  I  only  wish  that 
there  had  been  more  of  them. 

I  hope  it  will  not  be  long  before  you  give 
me  your  company  at  Weston.  Then  we 
will  examine  the  three  .Dialogues,  as  they 
appear  in  their  new  form  ;  and  will  consider 
and  determine  concerning  their  publication  ;+ 
or  rather  will  beseech  the  only  wise  God 
our  Saviour,  to  overrule  and  guide  our  de- 
termination. Contrive  to  stay  so.ne  time 
with  me. 

Try  if  you  can  get  me  Taylor's  book  ;  or 
any  of  those  which  you  showed  me-  Neo- 
nomianism  Unmasked,  if  you  can  light  on, 
purchase  for  me.  I  wish  you  growing  con- 
solation in  Christ,  deliverance  from  all  your 
troubles,  and  abundant  success  in  spreading 
abroad  the  savour  of  our  Redeemer's  name. 
In  whom  I  am,  dear  Sir,  your  true  and  af- 
fectionate friend  and  brother, 

J.  Hervey. 


March  I. 

Dear     Mn.     Cudworth, — Yesderday 

your  favour  came  to  hr.nd.       I  hope  to  see 

you   at  Weston  ere  long,  and    then   I   will 

deliver   the  Ietters§   into   your   own    hand. 


*  The  result  of  this  ronsidcration,  .ind  of  my  after 
correspondence  witli  Mr.  Srindeman,  .it  Mr.  Hervey '» 
request,  see  in  the  Defence  ot'Theron  .ind  Aspasio. 

t  Iteniarks  on  Theron  ami  Aspasio,  considered  with 
regard  to  the  objections  raised  l)y  the  Author  of  the 
Letters. 

t  The  publication  of  the  15th,  16th,  and  17th  Dia- 
logues, corrected  witli  regard  to  the  objections  of  Mr. 
Sandenian. 

§  Letters  of  Correspondence  between  me  and  Mr. 
!;andcnian. 


£82 


MR   HERVEY'S  LETTERS 


I  have  sent  you  a  couple  of  franks.  If  you 
want  more,  when  I  see  you  I  will  endea- 
vour to  supply  you.  I  am  glad  you  are  de- 
bating the  important  point  with  Mr.  San- 
deman.  He  seems  to  be  an  acute  person  ; 
and  if  there  is  a  flaw  in  oiu-  cause,  he  will 
be  likely  to  discover  it.  But  as  far  as  1 
can  judge,  he  has  found  no  such  thing  hi- 
therto. 

May  the  God  of  truth  and  grace  be  with 
you  ;  and  enable  you  to  understand  and  de- 
fend the  first ;  to  experience  and  abundant- 
ly enjoy  the  last. 

Please   to   present  my  very  affectionate 

respects  to  your  worthy  kinsman  Mr.  , 

and  recommend  to  his  prayer,  and  remem- 
ber in  your  own,  dear  Sir,  your  brother  in 
Christ,  J.  Hervey. 


July  15. 

Dear  Mr.  Cudworth, — This  comes  to 
desire  you  will  inform  me  how  I  may  di- 
rect a  large  letter  to  you  ;  which  I  will 
send,  as  soon  as  your  answer  is  received. 
It  is  a  manuscript,*  which  wants  your  ex- 
amination, and  it  is  of  some  importance. 
Tliurefoie  I  am  somewhat  solicitous  that  it 
may  not  miscarry.  Yours  aflfectionately, 
J.  Hervey. 

P.  S. — You  may  direct  your  letter  to 
stop  at  Northampton.  Do  not  use  any  of 
your  franks.  You  will  have  greater  occa- 
sion for  them.  Or,  if  your  stock  is  spent, 
let  me  know. 


July  27. 
'  Dear  Mr.  Cudworth, — This  day  I  re- 
ceived your  letter,  with  the  two  manuscript 
sheets  enclosed.  Accept  my  thanks  for 
your  remarks,  and  let  me  beg  of  you  to  ex- 
amine the  two  sheets  which  are  now  sent. 
I  will  take  your  advice  with  regard  to  Mr. 

B ;  and   follow  your  hint  concerning 

your  own  work.  I  apprehend  there  will 
be  about  ten  such  sheets ;  and  that  the 
piece  will  make  a  two-shilling  pamphlet. 
1  must  entreiit  you  to  get  time  for  the  re- 
visal  of  all  ;  which  shall  be  sent  you  as  you 
shall  be  able  to  despatch  the  work.  I  am, 
dear  Sir,  most  cordially  yours,  J,  Hervey. 


August  2. 
My  Dear  Friend, — Last  week   I  sent 
you  two  sheets   of  the   manuscript,   now  I 
send  you   two  more  for  your  revisal.  ■■  If 


♦  This  was  an  answer  to  Mr.  John  Wesley's  ob- 
jections against  'Pheron  and  Aspasio,  and  is  so  valua- 
ble n  defence  of  imputed  righteotisness,  that  its  pub- 
lication is  much  to  be  desired.  It  has  been  since  pub- 
lished by  Mr  Hervey's  brother,  and  may  be  seen  in 
tlio  preceding  part  of  thu  volume. 


you  see  a  fair  opportunity  of  contracting, 
please  to  make  use  of  it ;  for  I  fiar  the 
piece  will  be  too  long.  Enclose  what  you 
think  may  be  omitted  in  a  parenthesis,  by  a 
pencil.  Pray  examine  rigorously,  by  which 
you  will  very  much  oblige  your  truly  affec- 
tionate J.  Hervey. 


August  9. 

My  Dear  Friend, —  Here  I  enclose  two 
sheets  more.  They  are  very  long ;  but  I 
hope  you  will  get  time  to  revise  them. 
Your  last  packet  I  received,  and  am  much 
obliged  for  your  remarks.  I  apprehend  the 
piece  will  make  a  two-shilling  pamphlet. 
•  If  you  could  suggest  or  introduce  any  thing 
to  make  it  edifying  and  useful,  I  should  be 
glad.  Would  it  not  be  proper  to  print  Mr. 
Wesley's  letler,  and  prefix  it  to  my  answer  ? 
Have  you  left  your  own  two  books  for  me 
at  my  brother's  ?  If  you  have  not,  please 
to  leave  them  at  Mr.  J.  R — 's,in  St-  Paul's 
Church-yard.  I  am,  dear  Sir,  cordially 
yours  in  Christ  Jesus,  J.  Hervey. 

P.  S. — I  suppose  about  three  sheets 
more  will  finish  the  work. 


August  16. 
My  Dear  Friend, — Here  are  two  more 
sheets.  The  last  I  received  with  your  val- 
uable remarks.  Pray  bestow  the  same  at- 
tention on  these.  Two  more,  or  less,  will 
finish  the  essay ;  then  1  will  discontinue 
writing,  and  employ  u'yself  in  reading,  es- 
pecially in  reading  Luther's  comment.* 
Cannot  you  procure  for  me  Taylor's  book  ? 
I  am,  dear  Sir,  alfecliouately  yours, 

J    Hervey. 

September  23. 

My  Dear  Friend, — I  received  in  due 
time  your  last  letter.  Should  have  sent 
the  conclusion  of  my  manuscript,  but  it  has 
been  lent  out,  and  is  not  yet  returned. 

I  shall  be  glad  to  see  your  correspon- 
dence with  Mr.  Sandeman.  The  enclosed 
is  a  copy  of  a  letter,  which  I  sent,  some 
years  ago,  to  two  malefactors  under  sen- 
tence of  death.  It  is  got  into  a  good  many 
hands.  Some  would  have  me  print  it.  I 
wish  you  would  be  so  kind  as  to  revise  it, 
and  give  me  your  opinion.  People  say, 
there  is  not  enough  said  concerning  the 
spiritual  change,  or  the  new  heart. 

My  next  shall  bring  you  a  little  piece  of 
mine,  which,  without  my  knowledge,  has 
passed  the  press.  I  have  lately  been  in 
great  want  of  franks,  but  now  I  have  got  a 
recruit. 

I  have  been  very  ill   this  week,  but  had 

»  As  abridged  and  designed  for  the  Evangelical  Li- 
brary . 


TO  MR.   CUDWORTII. 


5B3 


sfteiii,'th  niough  to  read  in  your  book.  I 
was  much  edified  by  Mr.  Simpson's  ser- 
mons. I'ray,  are  his  whole  works  to  be 
jjrocured  V  and  are  they  of  the  same  spirit 
with  the  sermons  which  you  have  given  us? 
If  so,  I  should  desire  to  see,  to  possess 
them  all.  1  am,  very  affectionately,  yours, 
J.  Hj;uvey. 


December  2. 

Mv  Dkar  FiuF.Ni), — Excuse  me  for 
keeping  your  MS.*  so  long;  1  have  been 
extremely  ill.  This  morning  I  have  been 
up  for  four  houis,  and  in  all  that  time  not  i 
able  to  look  into  a  book,  or  hold  up  my 
head. 

I  fully  assent  to  your  opinion.  Think 
jou  have  proved  the  warrant  for  a  sinTier's 
iipplication    of     Christ    very    satisfactorily- 


If  I  live,  I  should  much  desne  a  copy  of  thi.s 
your  correspondence,  when  you  tiave  re- 
vised and  finished  it ;  or  do  you  intend  to 
print  it  ? 

Have  you  got  some  complete  sets  of 
your  works  ?  If  you  have,  I  wish  you 
would  lodge  about  four  of  them  at  Mr. 
R — n's.  Let  them  be  only  in  sheets. 
And  when  you  have  given  me  notice  that 
they  are  deposited  with  him,  I  will  order 
him  to  pay  you  a  guinea  for  them.  I  pro- 
mised a  worthy  clergyman  a  set  some  day 
ago.      Yours  affectionately,     J.  Hervey. 


December  15, 
Dear  Mr.  Cudworth, — I  am  so  weak 
I  am  scarce  able  to  write  my  name.* 

J.  Heuvfy 


A  DEE^ENCE 


OF 


TllEMON  AND  ASPASIO. 


The  sum  and  substance  of  the  doctrine 
pleaded  for  by  Aspasio  is,  "  That  God 
hath  so  given  eternal  life  in  his  iSon  to 
guilty  sinners,  as  that  they  are  fully  war- 
ranted to  receive  Christ,  or  assure  them- 
selves of  salvation  by  him  alone,  without 
waiting  for  any  inward  motions,  feelings,  or 
desires,  as  any  way  requisite  in  order  to 
such  a  reception  or  assurance." 

This  doctrine  has-been  hitherto  opposed, 
under  the  notion,  1.  That  some  inward  mo- 
tions, feelings,  or  desires,  were  some  way 
requisite  in  order  thereto  :  That  these  in- 
ward motions,  feelings,  or  desires,  were  the 
faith  or  reception  of  Christ  spoken  of  in  the 
Scripture,  or  at  least  the  indications  of  it ; 
and  must  be  discerned  in  us  in  that  light,  be- 
fore there  can  beany  well-gi-ounded  assurance 
of  salvation  by  him.  2.  That  if  we  are 
called  directly  to  live  by  Christ,  or  appro- 
priate him,  he  is  ours,  and  we  are  safe,  whe- 
ther we  appropriate  him  or  no.     3.  That  it 


«  The  remaining  part  of  my  correspondence  with 
Mr.  Sandeman. 


is  assuring  ourselves  of  what,  for  aught  we 
know,  is  absolutely  false.  4..  That  the 
wicked,  the  presumptuous,  and  the  hypo- 
crites, may,  and  do  often  thus  assure  them- 
selves. 5.  That  there  is  nothing  in  faith, 
thus  tmderstood  or  exerted,  which  is  a  pro- 
per spring  and  cause  of  good  works,  by  which 
it  is  in  itself  different  from  a  false  faith. 
6.  That  it  is  contrary  to  all  self-examina- 
tion, and  assurance  thereby.  And,  7.  That 
such  doctrine  is  a  great  discouragement  to 
weak  souls. 

In  answer  to  all  this,  we  have  asserted, 
1-  That  the  divine  revelation  concerning 
Jesus  is  addressed  to  sinners,  the  world,  the 
lost ;  and  that,  without  being  directed  to 
wait  for  any  inward  motions,  feelings,  or 
desires,  remission  of  sins,  and  eternal  life  in 
Christ,  are  said  to  be  presented  or  given  to 


•  Hearing  how  dangerously  fill  Mr.  Hervey  wm, 
I  wrote  to  remind  him  of  leaving  something  under 
his  hand  in  regard  to  his  writings,  a«  he  knew  tho 
situation  of  them  now  required  it ;  and  this  was  all 
the  answer  he  could  give  me. 


584 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


them  ;  and  tliey  are  iminediiitely  called  to 
believe  on  him  as  so  granted.  That  the  in- 
ward motions,  feelings,  or  desires,  corres- 
pondent to  these  gospel  declarations,  are 
motions,  desires,  &c.  to  live  by  Christ  alone, 
immediately,  without  waiting  for  any  thing 
previous  thereto ;  and  that  this  voice  of 
God,  in  these  declarations  of  the  gospel, 
was  a  sufficient  authority  for  the  whole  we 
plead  for,  without  waiting  for  any  inward 
motions  or  excellencies  in  us  to  add  there- 
to. 2.  That  it  is  very  absurd  to  infer,  that 
Christ  being  given  for  us  to  feed  upon,  or 
live  by,  that  there  is  therefore  no  need  to 
live  by  him.  Nor  is  it,  3.  Assuring  our- 
selves of  what  may  be  false  ;  the  divine  de- 
claration having  secured  this — that  they 
which  believe  on  him  shall  not  be  confound- 
ed ;  nor  does  any  man  thus  live  by  Christ 
alone,  but  he  who  is  chosen  to  salvation  by 
the  belief  of  the  truth :  Notwithstanding, 
many  deceive  themselves,  professing  great 
confidence  ;  but  it  is  in  some;  undue 
mixture  or  addition  of  their  own  to  what 
God  hath  spoken.  And,  4.  That  it  is  here 
the  presumptuous  and  the  hypocrite  do  err 
and  destroy  themselves,  and  not  in  believ- 
mg  according  to  that  which  is  spoken.  5. 
That  good  works  are  works  of  love  to  God 
thus  manifested  ;  and  therefore  it  is  th( 
only  principle  of  good  works  on  this  ac- 
count :  "  We  love  him,  because  he  first 
loved  us."  So  that  it  differs  from  a  false 
faith,  as  the  belief  of  a  truth  differs  from 
the  belief  of  a  falsehood,  and  as  an  appre- 
hension of  the  divine  favour  begets  love  and 
obedience,  rather  than  an  apprehension  of 
wrath.  G.  That  a  proper  self-examination 
is  therefore,  whether  we  thus  live  by  Christ 
alone,  or  whether  we  are  waiting  for  some- 
thing more  ?  And,  7-  That  it  is  far  from 
discouraging  the  chiefest  sinners,  to  let 
them  know  that  God  hath  given  to  them 
eternal  life  in  his  Son,  although  it  very  pos- 
sibly may,  and  ought  to  discourage  every 
one  from  seeking  relief  in  themselves,  while 
the  divine  declarations  point  us  so  plainly  to 
the  salvation  given  in  Christ  Jesus  to  the 
guilty. 

We  have  now  to  engage  with  another 
kind  of  an  opponent,  one  that  tells  us, 
"  That  on  account  of  our  thus  pleading  for 
assurance  of  salvation,  by  receiving  or  appro- 
priating Christ  as  given  to  us,  we  are  also 
to  be  classed  with  the  popular  preachers,  in 
as  much  as  we  also  lead  the  guilty,  as  they 
do,  to  seek  after  some  inward  motions,  feel- 
ings, or  desires,  as  some  way  requisite  in 
order  to  acceptance  with  God,  not  under- 
standing how  God  can  appear  just  to  an 
unrighteous  ])erson,  in  justifying  him  as  he 
at  present  stands,  without  some  motion  in 
his  will,  &:c.  That  the  whole  doctrine  of 
the  popular  preachers  is  devised  for  produc- 
ing, animating,  and  directing  this  motion, 


that  so  the  anxious  hearer  may  find  about 
himself  some  distinguishing  reason  why  the 
Deity  may  regard  him  more  than  others. 
That  the  work  finished  by  Jesus  Christ  in 
his  death,  proved  by  his  resurrection,  is  all- 
sufficient  to  justify  the  guilty.  That  the 
whole  benefit  of  this  event  is  conveyed  to 
men,  only  by  the  apostolic  report  concern- 
ing it ;  and  that  this  whole  benefit  is  no 
more  than  a  possibility  of  salvation,  depend- 
ing upon  the  divine  sovereignty.  That  every 
one  who  understands  this  report  to  be  true, 
or  is  persuaded  that  the  event  actually  hap- 
pened, as  testified  by  the  apostles,  is  justifi- 
ed, and  finds  relief  to  his  guilty  conscience, 
i.  e.  the  relief  of  the  above-mentioned  possi- 
bility. That  such  are  relieved,  not  by  find- 
ing any  favourable  symptoms  about  their 
own  heart,  but  by  finding  their  report  to  be 
true.  That  all  the  divine  power  which  ope- 
rates on  the  minds  of  men,  either  to  give 
the  first  relief^to  their  consciences,  or  to 
influence  them  in  every  part  of  their  obedi- 
ence, is  persuasive  power,  or  the  forcible 
conviction  of  truth.  That  our  primary  no- 
tion of  the  divine  character  can  give  no 
comfort  to  the  guilty,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
make  them  miserable  by  a  sense  of  fear  and 
shame.  That  when  a  man  knows  how  God 
may  be  just,  in  justifying  him  as  he  at  pre- 
sent stands,  he  finds  relief  from  the  afore- 
mentioned disquieting  fear." 

To  this  we  reply  in  general.  That  we 
agree  to  the  greatest  part,  to  almost  all  these 
assertions,  as  most  valuable  truths,  and 
stand  corrected  by  some  of  them  ;  particu- 
larly wherever  v.'e  have  too  charitably  sup- 
posed or  admitted  a  belief  of  the  report, 
contrary  to  the  Scripture  declaration,,"  They 
that  know  thy  name  will  put  their  trust  in 
thee;"*  and  thereby  have  been  sometimesf 
led  to  fall  in  with  the  multitude,  who  make 
light  of  the  belief  of  the  report,  as  a  com- 
mon thing;  whereas,  to  know  the  real  truth 
of  the  gospel,  in  distinction  from  every  cor- 
rupting and  contradictory  falsehood,  is  the 
peculiar  teaching  of  God  ;  and  every  one 
that  has  "so  heard  and  learned  of  the  Fa- 
ther, comes  to  Christ."  We  agree,  that 
"  our  primary  notion  of  the  divine  character 
makes  the  guilty  miserable,  by  a  sense  of 
fear  and  shame ;"  but  v.'e  deny  that  relief 
from  this  fear  is  obtained,  without  being  as 
certain  that  we  have  righteousness,  as  we 
are  that  we  have  guilt.  The  divine  decla- 
ration of  Christ,  given  to  be  believed  on, 
affords  a  foundation  for  this  certainty,  and 
contains,  therefore,  more  than  such  a  possi- 
bility as  is  above-mentioned.  We  also  de- 
ny the  charge,  that  we  lead  the  guilty,  as  the 


*  Mr.  Hervey  Iiad  begun  a  correction  of  his  three 
last  Dialogues  in  this  view. 

t  Siimetimcs ;  for  the  force  of  trutli  frequently 
prevailed  against  this  mistake,  before  Mr.  bande- 
nian's  iierfonnance  aiJiKwred 


popular  pieachcis  do,  to  seek  alter  sonic  iii- 
wyrd  motions,  feelings,  or  desires,  as  some 
way  requisite  iii  order  to  accejitance  with 
Ciiod.  For,  notwithstanding  the  righteous- 
ness appropriated  relates  to  acceptance  with 
God,  the  appropriation  we  plead  for,  relates 
oidy  to  the  consciousness,  knowledge,  and 
enjoyment  of  that  righteousness  wherehy  the 
guilty  are  justified.  And  we  atlirm,  that  to 
receive  a  gift  is  no  pre-requisite  or  condi- 
dition,  as  such  receiving  has  no  existence 
without  the  thing  received ;  and  to  be  so 
eiuiched,  is  not  to  be  enriched  by  our  act 
of  receiving,  or  what  we  do,  but  only  by 
what  we  receive.  But  a^  Mr.  Sandeman's 
attack  well  deserves  a  more  particular  de- 
fence, we  consider  it  as  follows  : 

"  Has  our  favourite  author  then,  at  least 
so  far,  lost  sight  of  the  imputed  righteous- 
ness, as  to  mix  another  with  it  ?  Has  he 
so  embarrassed,  or  rather  shut  up  our  access 
to  the  divine  righteousness,  as  to  hold  forth 
a  preliminary  human  one  as  some  way  ex- 
pedient, or  rather  necessary,  to  ouf  enjoying 
the  comforts  and  benefits  of  it."* 

No,  far  from  it ;  but  as  the  pinching  point 
in  the  conscience  is  not,  that  there  is  no 
such  righteousness  in  beingas  pleaseth  God, 
but  that  we  have  no  such  righteousness  ;  so 
we  understand  the  comfort  and  benefit  of 
Christ's  righteousness  to  be,  that  it  is  a  suf- 
ficient righteousness  in  our  behalf.  And 
We  who  plead  for  the  divine  grant  of  this 
righteousness  to  sinners  as  such,  very  evi- 
dently maintain,  that  there  is  no  preliminary 
righteousness  necessary  to  such  a  conclu- 
sion. 

"  I  speak  of  those  teachers,  who,  having 
largely  insisted  on  the  corruption  of  human 
nature,  concluding  the  whole  world  guilty 
before  God,  eloquently  set  forth  the  neces- 
sity of  an  atonement,  zealously  maintained 
the  Scripture  doctrine  concerning  the  per- 
son and  work  of  Christ,  yet,  after  all,  leave 
us  as  much  in  the  dark  as  to  our  comfort,  as 
if  Jesus  Christ  had  never  appeared  ;  and 
mark  out  as  insuperable  a  task  for  us,  as  if 
he  had  not  finished  his  woik." 

'I'his  charge  may  be  very  properly  exhi- 
bited against  those  teachers  who  leave  us  as 
much  in  the  dark  as  they  found  us,  unless 
'.  e  can  find  out  something  within  ourselves 
o  distinguish  us  from  other  sinners.  But 
Aspasio's  doctrine  brings  Christ  near  to 
ruilty  sinners  as  such,  for  their  immediate 
enjoyment.  Take  and  have,  receive  and 
possess,  relates  only  to  personal  enjoyment ; 
is  no  task,  no  entitling  condition  ;  the  ap- 
propriation being  fully  warranted  by  the 
trutii  believed,  and  eilected  by  the  belief  of 
it. 

"  While,    with  great  assiduity  and  ear- 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO.  5aj 

nestness,  they  are    bnsitil   in   descrihing  to 
us,   animating  us   with    vaiious  encourage 


ments,  and  furnishing  us  with  manifold  ni- 
structions  how  to  perform  that  strange 
something  which  is  to  tnake  out  our  con- 
nexion wich  Christ,  and  bring  his  righteous- 
ness home  to  us." 

We  say,  Christ's  righteousness  Is 
"  brought  home  to  us"  in  the  gospel  de- 
claration, without  the  necessity  of  any  in- 
tervening righteousness  to  warrant  us  to 
call  it  ours.  Me  only  receive  what  is  free- 
ly given, — that  is  all  the  strange  something 
we  have  pleaded  for  ;  and  that  not  for  our 
acceptance  with  God  in  virtue  of  our  act, 
but  only  to  know  and  enjoy  that  righteous- 
ness as  ours,  on  account  of  which  alone  we 
are  accepted. 

"  Setting  them  to  work  to  do  something, 
under  whatever  name,  to  make  up  their 
peace  with  God." 

Not  so  with  us,  who  receive  and  live  by 
Christ's  righteousness;  with  which  God 
hath  declared  himself  already  well  pleased. 

"  Every  doctrine  which  teaches  us  to  do 
or  endeavour  any  thing  toward  our  accep- 
tance with  God,  stands  opposed  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  apostles." 

But  the  doctrine  we  plead  for,  teaches 
us  to  live  by  what  Christ  has  already  done, 
as  being  given  to  us  for  that  purpose.  To 
say  that  I  must  do,  or  endeavour  anything, 
that  I  may  be  accepted,  is  a  contradiction  to 
that  believing  on  Christ  we  plead  for ; 
which  is  in  fact,  neither  more  nor  less  than 
living  upon  him  as  our  whole,  only,  and 
complete  salvation  :  and  will,  on  that  ac- 
count, bear  the  test  of  the  apostle's  word, 
•'  To  him  that  worketh  not,  imt  believeth 
on  him  that  justifieth  the  ungodly,"  &e. 
As  this  faith  cannot  be  separated  from  the 
truth  believed,  nor  the  truth  believed  from 
Christ  the  subject  of  that  truth,  so  to  be 
justified  by  faith,  by  Christ,  or  by  his  blood 
is  the  same  thing.  Nor  can  any  tloing  for 
acce])tance  be  charged  upon  this  believing 
on  Christ,  while  its  native  language  is,  "  In 
the  liord  have  I  righteousness." 

Palyemon's*  main  argument  is,  "  If  the 
work  finished  by  Jesus  Christ  is  alone  suf- 
ficient to  justiiicalion,  then  no  apjiropria- 
tion  or  reception  is  necessary  thereto." 
We  reply,  that  that  alone  is  suflicient  ; 
therefore  reception  or  apjirojiriation  belongs 
to  our  conscious  possession  and  enjoyment 
of  the  justifying  righteousness,  to  the  mani- 
festation of  our  justification  by  it,  and  to 
the  influence  of  it  in  our  lives  and  conver- 
sations. 

Pala;mon  thinks  he  docs  not  deny  the 
sulllciency   of   Christ,    when    he    connects 


»   N.  11.  Mr.  Sandcinan's  words  arc  inrlutlcd  within 
onimas  :   the  oilier  i>aingrai  lis  are  Uie  it'i'iy. 


♦  The  name  the  author  of  the  Letters  has  choseii 
for  himself,  as  Mr.  Ilcrvey  is  to  be  uiidetstocd  by  A»- 
pasiu. 


586 


A   DEIENCli  OF 


faith  and  salvation  together,  and  maintains 
that  all  who  helieve  this  sufficiency  will  be 
saved,  and  all  who  believe  it  not  will  per- 
ish. 

He  admits,  that  a  work  of  God  is  neces- 
sary in  the  justified,  that  is,  to  beget  faith, 
to  beget  in  them  a  persuasion  of  the  suffi- 
ciency of  the  justifying  righteousness. 

He  judges  this  cannot  be  a  contradiction 
to  the  one  thing  needful  alone  ;  because  it 
is  wholly  a  persuasion  of  the  sufficiency  of 
that  alone,  without  more.  In  what  light 
then  are  we  to  consider  this  farther  work  of 
God,  in  persuading  us  of  the  sufficiency  of 
thisrighteousness  ?  Not  as  an  addition  to 
the  sufficient  righteousness,  but  only  as  re- 
lative to  the  knowledge  of  it.  He  is  justi- 
fied by  believing,  only  as  he  is  justified  by 
what  he  believes. 

Neither  does  he  think  he  denies  the  suf- 
ficient righteousness,  when  he  maintains 
faith,  love,  and  self-denied  obedience,  as  ne- 
cessary to  demonstrate  his  portion  in  this 
righteousness,  or  that  he  is  a  justified  per- 
son ;  because,  in  these  acts,  or  in  this  obe- 
dience, he  is  not  doing  something  to  be 
justified,  but  proceeding  in  the  way  "  of 
painful  desire  and  fear,"  in  order  to  know 
himself  to  be  justified. 

Hence  it  is  apparent,  that  he  must  be 
obliged  to  allow,  that  although  the  work 
finished  by  Christ  on  the  cross  is  the  sole 
requisite  to  justification,  yet,  in  this  view, 
something  more  is  necessary  to  the  know- 
ledge of  his  interest  in  this  righteousness, 
or  of  his  justification  by  it;  and  that,  to 
maintain  this,  is  no  contradiction  to  the  sole 
requisite,  but  a  procedure  upon  it.  What 
he  is  obliged  to  plead  for  himself,  he  must 
also  allow  to  us  ;  and  the  difference  between 
us  is  not  in  regard  of  the  sole  requisite,  but 
our  present  enjoyment  of  it,  or  the  know- 
ledge of  our  justification  by  this  alone- 
He  says,  with  the  multitude,  "  in  the  way 
of  painful  desire  and  fear,"  till  we  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  difference  God  has 
made  between  us  and  others ;  we  say,  by 
the  free  grant  of  the  gospel  to  the  absolute- 
ly guilty,  without  difference. 

"  The  doctrine  of  the  apostles,  instead  of 
directing  us  what  to  do,  sets  before  us  all 
that  the  most  disquieted  conscience  can  re- 
quire, in  order  to  acceptance  with  God,  as 
already  done  and  finished  by  Jesus  Christ." 

A  disquieted  conscience  requires  a  righte- 
ousness pleasing  to  God  in  its_  own  behalf. 
No  righteousness  will  quiet  my  conscience, 
unless  I  consider  it  as  a  righteousness  for 
me.  The  righteousness  which  pleaseth 
God  is  already  done  and  finished  by  Jesus 
Christ.  Paltemon  considers  this  righteous- 
ness  as  respecting  himself,  only  as  far  as  he 
discovers  his  own  faith,  love,  and  self-de- 
nied obedience.  We  consider  it  as  given 
to  the  absolutely  guilty,  warranting  such  to 


live  by  ir,  as  so  given  to  them  for  that  pur- 
l)ose. 

Palaemon's  notion,  that  God  hath  ap- 
pointed no  way  but  by  our  works,  to  be  as- 
sured of  salvation  by  Christ  alone,  renders 
his  doing,  endeavouring,  striving,  &c.  scarce- 
ly different  in  any  thing  from  doing  that  we 
may  live.  There  are  few  so  weak  as  to 
think  that  they  can  alter  God's  mind  or 
purpose  by  their  performaiiccs  -.  but,  not 
knowing  what  he  has  proposed,  they  do, 
that  they  may  obtain  satisfaction  in  their 
minds  about  their  salvation  ;  and  Paloemon's 
doing  seems  to  beVholly  of  this  sort,  that 
is,  in  fact,  for  peace  with  God,  and  not 
from  it. 

"  What  Christ  has  done,  is  that  which 
pleaseth  God  ;  what  he  hath  done,  is  that 
which  quiets  the  guilty  conscience  of  man 
as  soon  as  he  knows  it." 

As  soon  as  he  knows  it  respects  him  a 
guilty  sinner.  If  the  fear  of  the  guilty  con- 
science consisted  only  in  an  uncertainty  of 
there  being  any  righteousness  which  pleas- 
eth God  in  the  behalf  of  the  elect,  or  the 
qualified,  than  the  guilty  conscience  would 
be  quieted  as  soon  as  it  is  evident  there  is 
such  a  righteousness.  But  this  is  not  the 
case  ;  the  fear  of  the  guilty  conscience  is  a 
dread  of  God,  because  I  have  no  such 
righteousness — because  I  have  no  righteous- 
ness upon  which  I  can  be  assured  he  is 
pleased  with  me.  And  this  guilty  con- 
science cannot  be  quieted,  unless  I  discover 
the  righteousness  which  pleaseth  God  in 
my  own  behalf. 

As  we  conceive  the  report  of  the  gospel, 
as  sufficient  righteousness  freely  given  in 
Jesus,  suits  the  guilty  conscience  thus  un- 
derstood ;  so  we  agree,  that  whenever  we 
hear  of  this  provision  of  divine  grace,  we 
have  no  occasion  for  any  other  question  but 
this,  "  Is  it  true  or  not  ?  If  we  find  it  true, 
we  are  hai)py  ;"  and  it  is  Paljemon,  and  not 
we,  that  stands  in  need  of  another  righte- 
ousness to  quiet  the  guilty  conscience. 

Palfemon  considers  "the  work  of  Christ 
as  a  M:flicient  foinidatiun  whereon  to  rest 
the  whole  weight  cf  our  acceptance  with 
God,"  while,  at  the  same  time,  he  asserts 
that  his  own  part  or  lot  in  this  righteous, 
ness  "  is  not  so  easily  settled  ;"  but  that  he 
must  wait  and  work  for  it  in  the  way  of 
"  painful  desire  and  fear,  till  he  is  at  last 
crowned  with  enjoyment,"  in  a  clear  dis- 
covery of  his  having  faith,  love,  and  self- 
denied  obedience.  We  judge  ourselves  not 
left  to  this  uncertainty  ;  and  that,  without 
the  discovery  of  any  such  difference  be- 
twixt us  and  other  men,  we  are  allowed  to 
receive,  enjoy,  and  live  upon  Jesus  Christ, 
as  freely  given  to  sinners  in  the  gospel  ;  even 
as  those  who  are  invited  to  an  entertain- 
ment are  freely  allowed  to  partake  of  what 
is  set  before  them,     Paketcon's  view  of  the 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


587 


gospel  report  sets  him  at  a  distance  from 
enioymeiit,  or  leaves  him  in  uncertainty, 
till  his  obedience  manifests  a  difference  be- 
twixt him  and  others.  Our  view  is  of  the 
sufficient  righteousness  brought  quite  home, 
so  that  our  first  act  is  to  live  by  it,  that  in 
the  strength  thereof  we  may  be  influenced 
by  love  to  him  that  first  loved  us. 

It  is  true,  the  Scripture  "  nowhere  as- 
certains that  Christ  died  for  me  in  particu- 
lar." But  it  allows,  invites, and  commands  me, 
a  guilty  sinner,  without  more,  to  believe  on 
him,  live  by  him,  &c.  ;  phrases  evidently 
expressive  of  the  appropriation,  trust,  or 
confidence  we  plead  for. 

Uur  author  says,  "  That  Christ  died,  that 
he  gave  his  life  a  ransom  for  many,  is  in- 
deed a  truth  fully  ascertained  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, for  the  relief  of  the  shipwrecked  and 
desperate."  But  can  it  relieve  any  farther 
than  it  respects  ourselves  ?  And  if  the  gos- 
j)i'l  declaration  concerning  this  righteousness 
doth  not  respect  us  any  farther  than  as  we 
ap()rehend  we  may  be  of  the  elect,  or  that 
we  have  their  qualifications,  how  does  it  re- 
lieve the  shipwrecked  and  the  desperate  ? 
It  rather  relieves  the  elect  and  the  qualified. 
This  point  seems  to  be  Mr.  Sandeman's 
mystery  ;  atid  he  guards  the  inquiry  with 
something  like,  Hence,  ye  profane  !  "  The 
world,"  says  he,  "  will  always  be  objecting 
thus."  A  plain  acknowledgment,  I  think, 
that  that  is  the  question  to  be  answered,  or 
the  guilty  conscience  cannot  be  relieved  ; 
and  a  vindication  of  our  view  of  the  gospel 
report,  as  funiishing  us  with  the  gracious 
answer. 

"  The  Scripture  often  affirms  the  final 
perdition  of  many,  not  merely  hearers  of 
the  gospel,  but  who  have  heard  and  received 
it  with  joy." 

This  is  an  objection  against  depending  on 
any  thing  I  at  present  feel,  but  not  against 
complying  with  the  divine  invitation,  to  live 
by  tlie  sufHcient  righteousness  of  the  Son 
of  (iod  ;  an  objection  against  the  certainty 
which  arises  from  inherent  qualifications, 
but  not  against  that  which  j)roceeds  solely 
on  the  divine  invitation  and  faithfulness. 

"  Many  shall  seek  to  enter  in,  and  shall 
not  be  able." 

Because  they  seek  not  by  faith,  (by  the 
ti  iith  of  the  g<)si)el),  but  as  it  were  by  the 
works  of  the  law. 

"  Notwithstanding  their  great  confidence 
about  their  ae(piaintance  with  Christ,  and 
their  interest  in  him,  and  their  experience 
of  liis  presence  with  them,  he  will  at  last 
eay  unto  them,  I  never  knew  you,  depart  from 
me. " 

The  confidence  of  those  condemned  is 
evidently  not  a  confidence  built  upon  the 
finished  work  of  Christ  given  to  them,  or 
the  divine  faithfulness  pledged  to  sirniers  in 
the  gospel  report   but  a  confidence  on  their 


own  attainments  and  experience,  wherein 
they  judged  themselves  peculiarly  entitled 
to  the  heavenly  admission. 

Let  who  will  be  condemned,  it  is  allowed 
by  Mr.  Sandeman,  that  every  believer  of 
the  sufficiency  of  the  work  of  Christ  to  jus- 
tify the  ungodly,  is  justified.  And  it  is  very 
evident,  that  whosoever  lives  by  that,  as 
sufficient  for  him,  believes  that  sufficiency, 
and  is  really  saved  by  what  he  believes, 
though  ten  thousand  professors  perish. 

"  When  they  are  condemned,  then,  as 
hypocrites  and  unbelievers,  they  are  not 
condemned  for  want  of  Aspasio's  faith  ;  and 
that  for  these  two  reasons  :  The  first  is,  it 
was  never  true  that  Christ  died  for  them  ; 
the  second  is,  that  they  were  not  faulty  in 
this  respect ;  for  the  sacred  text  describes 
them  as  rather  too  confident  about  their  in- 
terest in  Christ." 

As  to  the  first,  it  is  not  Aspasio's  faith 
that  Christ  died  for  them,  whether  they  be- 
lieve it  or  no ;  and  as  to  the  second,  they 
may  be  condemned  for  neglecting  or  reject- 
ing the  gospel  grant  of  a  Saviour  to  the 
guilty,  (which  is  the  truth  Aspasio  pleads 
for),  and  at  the  same  time  too  confident 
upon  their  imagined  attainments  on  which 
they  found  their  hopes. 

"  The  gospel  proposes  nothing  to  be  be- 
lieved by  us,  but  what  is  infallibly  true, 
whether  we  believe  it  or  not." 

But  it  proposes  something  to  be  imme- 
diately received  and  enjoyed  by  us,  with- 
out performing  any  entitling  condition  what- 
ever. We  plead  for  such  a  persuasion  as  is 
the  reception  of  a  gift;  and  what  we  thus 
receive,  or  assure  ourselves  of,  depends  for 
its  truth,  or  infallible  certainty,  on  the  vera- 
city and  faithfulness  of  God,  who  has  pro- 
mised such  shall  not  be  confounded.  We 
agree,  that  a  persuasion  of  a  proposition, 
true  in  itself,  must  be  grounded  on  the  evi- 
dence of  that  truth.  But  this  is  not  the 
case  when  we  are  commanded  to  believe  on, 
or  trust  in  the  Lord. 

"  The  gospel,  which  foretells  the  final 
perdition  of  so  many  of  its  hearers,  so  ma- 
ny seriously  and  zealously  exercised  about 
it,  can  never  warrant  us  to  persuade  every 
one  who  hears  it,  that  Christ  died  for  him." 

The  gospel,  which  foretells  the  final  per- 
dition of  so  many  of  its  hearers,  at  the  same 
time  warrants  every  hearer  to  live  by  the  righ- 
teousness it  reveals ;  and  assures  them  of 
eternal  salvation  who  thus  believe  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  or  live  by  his  righteous- 
ness alone,  without  more. 

"  Unless  we  shall  say,  that  Christ  died 
for  every  individual  of  mankind,  and  conse- 
sequently  that  none  of  mankind  owe  their 
salvation  wholly  to  his  death." 

They  owe  their  salvation,  and  ascribe 
their  salvation  wholly  to  his  death,  who  live 
and  found  all  their  hopes  on  tliat  alone.  Be- 


58& 


A  DEFENCE   OF 


sides,  our  appropriation  relates  only  to  our 
conscious  possession  or  enjoyment  of  tliat 
which  justifies,  and  therefore  is  no  more  h"a- 
ble  to  the  above-mentioned  objection,  than 
Paleemon's  working  to  the  same  end,  in  a 
way  of  painful  desire  and  fear,  till  he  is 
crowned  with  enjoyment.  If  a  man  receives 
L.  10,000  as  a  gift,  does  the  act  exist  with- 
out the  gift  ?  And  is  it  the  act  that  enriches 
him,  or  the  riches  he  receives  ?;We,  on  both 
sides,  plead  for  the  conscious  enjoyment  of 
the  divine  righteousness.  He,  that  we  en- 
joy from  our  consciousness  of  our  acts  of 
obedience,  &c.  ;  we,  by  a  discovery  of  the 
sufficient  righteousness  granted  indefinitely 
to  the  guilty,  in  such  a  manner  as  warrants 
each  one's  particular  application.  Who 
stands  freest  from  the  doctrine  of  self-de- 
pendence, I  leave  others  to  judge. 

In  the  second  letter,  our  author  wishes 
Aspasio's  faith  had  been  "  equally  precious 
with  the  apostolic."  As  the  difference  be- 
tween his  faith  and  ours  is,  that  we  believe 
the  righteousness  which  pleaseth  God  is 
given  to  us  guilty  sinners  immediately,  to 
live  by  as  our  own,  which  he  does  not ;  his 
faith  does  not  in  that  respect  appear  to  be 
more  precious,  or  more  apostolic. 

It  is  true,  "  the  apostles  never  taught  men 
to  make  one  step  of  advance  towards  God, 
on  the  prospect  that  God  would  condescend 
and  come  down  the  rest  of  the  infinite  dis- 
tance to  meet  them," 

And  this  may  be  a  suitable  argument 
against  those  who  spend  their  time  in  offer- 
ing Christ,  upon  certain  terms  or  conditions 
to  be  performed  by  the  sinner.  But  this  is 
far  from  being  the  case  in  what  we  plead 
for.  Christ,  or  his  righteousness,  does  not 
meet  our  believing  application,  but  is  the 
object  of  it,  the  thing  applied.  It  is  Christ, 
and  his  righteousness,  that  is  immediately 
received,  applied,  or  accounted  ours,  as  be- 
ing freely  given  or  granted  in  the  gospel  re- 
port. So  that  our  appropriation  terminates 
in  its  object,  and  can  no  more  exist  without 
Christ,  than  eating  can  without  food.  ;  Is  it 
proper  to  say,  that,  in  eating,  a  man  makes 
only  a  step  of  advance  towards  his  food,  on 
the  prospect  that  the  food  shall  meet  him  ? 
Just  as  improper  to  apply  such  representa- 
tions to  the  appropriation  pleaded  for. 

The  apostles  called  men  to  believe  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  such  a  manner  of  ad- 
dress as  is  inconsistent  with  intending  there- 
by only  such  convictions  as  are  purely  pas- 
sive— only  such  as  force  themselves  upon  the 
mind  by  the  evidence  of  their  truth.  The 
apostolic  language  is,  "  Repent,  and  be  bap- 
tized, every  one  of  you,  in  the  name  of  Je- 
sus Christ,  for  the  remission  of  sins."  Acts 
ii.  38.  "  And  with  many  other  words  did 
he  testify  and  exhort,  saying,  Save  yourselves 
from  this  untoward  generation,"  ver.  40. 
And  again,  "  Repent  ye,  therefore,  and  be 


converted,"  chap.  iii.  19.  And  again,  "  To 
him  gave  all  the  prophets  witness,  that 
through  his  name  whosoever  believeth  in 
him  shall  receive  remission  of  sins,"  chap.  x. 
43.  And  again,  "  Be  it  known  unto  you, 
therefore,  men  and  brethren,  that  through 
this  man  is  preached  unto  you  the  forgive- 
ness of  sin.  And  by  him  all  that  believe 
are  justified,"  chap.  xiii.  38,  39.  And  again, 
"  Believe  on  the'  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved,"  &c.  chap.  xvi.  31 .  In 
all  these  instances,  there  is  something  ex- 
horted to,  called  believing  on,  or  in  Christ ; 
being  baptized  in  his  name  for  remission  of 
sins  ;  repenting,  and  being  converted ;  some- 
thing more  than  passive  conviction,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  something  consistent  with 
the  alone  sufficiency  of  Christ's  righteous- 
ness, which  can  be  neither  more  nor  less 
than  the  appropriation,  trust,  or  confidence 
we  plead  for. 

That  "  the  promises  of  the  gospel  are 
made  only  to  believers,"  will  never  invalidate 
our  plea  for  appropriation,  while  it  remains 
true  that  the  grant  of  Christ,  and  the  salva- 
tion in  him,  is  made  to  sinners  ;  and,  in  re- 
ceiving the  grant,  they  evidently  commence 
those  to  whom  the  promises  are  made;  that 
is,  those  who  believe  on  Christ  according  to 
the  apostolic  exhortation.  And  to  sinners, 
thus  immediately  believing  on  Christ,  the 
promises  are  made;  first,  To  encourage 
such  to  draw  near,  and  live  with  confidence 
on  the  sufficient  righteousness ;  secondly, 
To  give  them  a  certainty  dependent  upon 
the  divine  faithfulness,  and  animating  there- 
by to  the  most  ready  and  willing  obedience. 

To  say  no  one  must  account  the  righte- 
ousness of  Christ  as  belonging  to  him,  in 
any  sense,  until  he  discovers  himself  a  true 
believer,  as  it  excludes  the  application  we 
plead  for,  so,  in  its  room,  it  introduces  all 
the  pernicious  consequences  this  author  pro- 
fesses to  avoid  in  his  accusation  of  Aspasio, 
viz.  "  holding  forth  a  preliminary  human 
righteousness  as  some  way  expedient,  or  ra- 
ther necessary,  to  our  enjoying  the  comfort 
and  benefit  of  Christ's."  Unless  Palsemon 
can  make  it  manifest,  that  we  enjoy  the 
comfort  and  benefit  of  Christ's  righteous- 
ness, while  we  are,  according  to  him,  "  work- 
ing in  the  way  of  painful  desire  and  fear, 
till  we  come  to  that  enjoyment,"  common 
experience  teacheth  us,  that  righteousness 
can  only  relieve  or  comfort  us,  as  far  as  it 
respects  us.  That  he  is  able  to  save  his 
elect,  is  no  comfort  to  me,  further  than  I 
conceive  myself  to  be  one  of  them  ;  and  in 
this  case  I  am  comforted,  either  by  conjec- 
tural hope,  or  by  a  hope  founded  on  the  dif- 
ference there  is  between  me  and  others. 

"  And  to  obviate  the  difficulty,  how  shall 
I  know  that  the  promise  is  to  me  ?  They 
address  their  brethren  in  this  m:uincr  :  In 
the  name  of  the  gieat  God  we  declare,  that 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


.589 


the  promise  is  to   ttiee,  and   thee,  O  man, 
woman,  whosoevei'  thou  art-'" 

The  ])fomise  of  salvation  to  whomsoever 
believes  on  Christ,  is  evidently  to  the  sinner, 
as  liis  encouragement  to  come  to  the  sure 
enjoyment  of  the  righteousness  and  salva- 
tion given  in  him,  by  receiving,  appropriat- 
ing, and  trusting  confidently  on  him,  as  so 
given. 

"  In  his  name,  we  call  you  this  moment 
to  stretch  out  the  withered  hand,  and  the 
withered  heart,  and  take  hold  of  Christ, 
saying,  He  is  mine,  and  I  am  his." 

That  may  be  understood  thus :  "  We 
speak  not  in  our  own  name,  as  signifying 
our  own  importance  ;  but  inform  you  of  the 
glad  tidings,  that  it  is  God's  command,  and 
your  duty,  not  to  wait  to  feel  some  power 
or  alteration  in  yourself,  as  a  ground  for 
your  confidence,  but,  just  as  you  are,  in 
obedience  to  the  divine  command,  receive 
or  appropriate  Christ,  saying,  '  He  is 
mine,  and  I  am  his.' '' 

The  withered  hand,  and  the  withered 
heart,  are  expressions  used  to  signify  a 
powerless,  helpless,  condition  ;  which,  con- 
sisting in  the  prevalence  of  our  naturally 
evil  dispositions,  serves  to  denominate  us 
sinners,  and  spoils  our  hopes  of  living  by 
our  own  performances;  yet  it  is  no  objec- 
tion against  living  by  his  obedience,  who 
hath  become  the  righteousness  of  the  guilty. 
For  it  must  be  remembered,  we  are  not 
justified  by  our  acts,  but  by  the  righteous- 
ness we  appropriate  ;  and  our  appropria- 
tion only  serves  to  give  us  the  divine- 
ly authentic  enjoyment  by  the  word,  of  that 
justification  of  the  ungodly,  and  without 
strength,  whereby'  we  are  saved.  Hence 
we  are  called,  not  to  wait  for  strength  to 
do  something  for  the  enjoyment  of  this  jus- 
tification, but  stretch  forth  the  withered 
hand,  or,  just  as  we  are,  to  live  by  Christ's 
righteousness,  when  we  feel  nothing  but 
what  marks  us  out  for  eternal  destnic- 
tion.  When  Lazarus  was  made  to  hear, 
he  came  forth,  according  to  the  command 
he  heard,  or  in  obedience  to  the  voice  that 
quickened  him  ;  and  when  we  are  made  to 
bear  the  divine  invitation  and  command  to 
live  by  this  righteousness,  we  appropriate  it 
in  obedience  to  him  that  makes  ns  hear  his 
voice.  The  righteousness  itself  is  that  by 
which  we  are  accepted  ;  the  appropriation 
respects  our  possession  and  enjoyment.  In 
the  latter,  we  may  be  weaker  or  stronger  ; 
in  the  former,  is  the  invariable  ground  of 
our  confidence. 

That  God  has  given  to  us  eternal  life  in 
Lis  Son,  is  the  apostolic  style,  and  the  very 
record  which  is  pointed  out  for  our  jjcculiar 
attention ;  and  when  the  word  off'ir  has 
been  made  use  of,  and  understood  to  con- 
vey nothing  more  than  this  important  truth, 
the  believer  of  the   record  has  become  the 


receiver  of  the  gift,  or   the  etijoyer  of  the 
blessing, 

"  Hence  we  see,  that  '  this  i?  mine,  or 
this  was  done  for  me,'  is  a  truth,  whose 
evidence  takes  its  ri.se  from  the  pains  I  take 
to  believe  it." 

Its  evidence  depends  on  the  veracity  and 
faithfulness  of  him  who  spake  the  world 
into  being,  has  provided  the  suflicient  right- 
eousness, fmd  has  commanded  us  to  give 
him  this  honour  of  depending  on  his  word, 
in  our  enjoyment  of  this  salvation. 

It  is  not  in  this  case  the  language  of  the 
belief  of  a  truth,  but  of  the  reception  or  ap- 
propriation of  a  free  gift ;  the  belief  of  the 
truth  of  the  sufficiency  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
of  his  being  freely  given,  goes  before,  and 
is  that  knowledge  of  the  name  of  the  Lord 
which  emboldens  us  to  put  our  tnist  in  him. 
What  we  thus  assure  ourselves  of,  in  com- 
pliance with  the  divine  invitation,  &c.  as  it 
is  a  certain  truth  in  the  divine  mind,  so  it 
appears  a  truth  by  the  divine  word,  when  it 
is  evident  I  am  begotten  to  this  Christian 
faith,  hope,  and  charity.  The  difference 
here  between  us,  is,  that,  v.'ith  Palsemon, 
"  This  is  mine,  this  was  done  for  me,"  is  a 
tiuth,  whose  evidence  takes  its  rise  only 
from  a  discovery,  that  I  am  distinguished 
from  other  sinners  by  my  faith,  love,  iuid 
self-denied  obedience.  With  us,  it  is  the 
Higuageof  a  reception,  appropriation,  trust, 
or  confidence,  grounded  upon  the  divine  de- 
clarations to  sinners  for  that  purpose. 

"  This,  I  must  say,  is  indeed  a  very 
scrange  and  uncommon  way  of  distinguish- 
ing truth." 

Eut  such  a  way  of  dependence  on  the  di- 
vine veracity  and  faithfulness  as  becomes 
us,  and  gives  glory  to  God.  It  is  the  re- 
ception of  a  gift  by  a  persuasion  of  the 
mind.  It  is  trusting  to  the  fiiithfulness  of 
God  to  make  out,  in  this  particular  case,  a 
blessing  indefinitely  promised  ;  not  assuring 
myself  of  a  proposition  being  true,  but  of 
eternal  salvation  by  a  Saviour  given  to  me. 
To  receive  a  gift,  or  to  partake  of  any 
thing  upon  invitation,  is  nothing  strange  or 
uncommon.  In  this  case,  when  the  gift  is 
given  in  divine  declarations,  and  the  recep- 
tion of  it  purely  mental,  an  answerable  jier- 
suasion  of  the  mind,  or  (in  dei)endence  on 
the  divine  veracity  and  fiiithfulness)  an  as- 
suring ourselves  of  the  blessing  granted, 
what  we  are  persuaded  of,  is  in  a  way  pe- 
culiar to  itself,  and  very  consistent  before 
him  who  said,  "  Whatsoever  things  ye  de- 
sire when  you  pra)',  believe  that  you  receive 
them,  and  ye  have  them."  Pahemon  will 
allow,  that  Christ's  death  is  an  uncommon 
affair,  as  is  also  imputing  righteousness  with . 
out  works,  &:c.  A\'hy,  then,  should  the  pe- 
culiarity of  thus  oijoying  righteousness 
without  works,  be  so  much  tlie  subject  of 
sneer,  because   accounted   strange  and  un- 


590 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


rommon  ?  May  it  not  rather  be  account- 
ed snch  a  way  of  dependence  on  the  divine 
veracity  and  faithfulness,  as  renders  him 
his  proper  glory  ? 

"  If  he  (namely,  Christ,)  died  for  them 
that  perish,  then  the  happiness  of  them  who 
are  saved  must  be  owing  to  something  else 
besides  his  death." 

Aspasio  is  no  farther  concerned  here, 
than  as  he  maintains,  that  Christ  is  given 
for  the  guilty  .to  appropriate  and  live  by. 
And  in  this  regard,  may  it  not  be  said  with 
as  much  propriety.  If  an  entertainment, 
provided  in  common,  is  refused  by  some, 
that  then  the  nourishment  of  those  who 
partake  of  it  is  owing  to  something  else  be- 
sides the  food  ?  This  is  coming  pretty 
near  to  our  Lord's  representation,  John  vi, 
.5:5.  A  fallacy  or  impropriety  charged  upon 
the  former  is  also  a  reflection  upon  the  lat- 
ter. 

If  we  understand,  by  the  happiness  of 
them  who  are  saved,  their  redemption  from 
the  wrath  to  come,  and  title  to  future 
glory  ;  this  is  owing  strictly  to  his  perfect 
righteousness.  If  vve  mean  their  present 
hai)piness  in  a  conscious  possession,  know- 
ledge, or  enjoyment  of  this  redemption  ; 
this,  we  may  say,  is  owing  to  his  death, 
given  to  be  received.  Paltemon  says,  to  a 
discovery  of  our  faith,  love,  and  self-denied 
obedience. 

It  is  a  very  just  observation,  that  "  in 
speaking  of  the  redemption  that  is  in  Jesus 
Christ,  we  had  need  keep  clear  of  all  hu- 
man systems,  and  hold  close  by  the  Scrip- 
tures." 

And  it  is  in  strict  conformity  to  this  we 
assert,  that  although  God  has  given  eternal 
life  in  his  Son,  even  unto  them  who  by 
disbelieving  it  make  God  a  liar,  yet  no  man 
has  that  life  but  he  that  hath  the  Son. 
God  gives  being  to  that  which  he  com- 
mands, authorizes,  and  thereby  enables  us 
to  receive,  appropriate,  or  be  persuaded  of. 
And  if  we  admit  of  his  character  as  a  just 
(xod  and  a  Saviour,  in  justifying  the  ungod- 
ly, why  shoidd  we  object  thus  giving  him 
the  glory  of  his  power  and  faithfulness  ? 
Thus  "  Sarah  received  strength  to  conceive 
seed,  because  she  judged  him  (not  only  able 
but)  faithful  that  had  promised."  And 
tluis  our  Lord  speaks,  Mark  xi.  22 — 24. 
Shall  it  be  disputed,  whether  God  can  give 
an  existence  to  things  that  yet  are  not,  and 
make  out  that  to  be  true,  which  we,  accord- 
ing to  his  word,  depend  upon  him  for  ? 
This  confidence  is  due  to  God  only,  and  is 
giving  him  glory.  On  the  other  hand,  to 
suppose  this  cannot  be,  and,  on  this  ac- 
count, to  set  aside  this  manner  of  believing 
or  trusting  in  him,  is  to  rob  him  of  his  j)ro- 
per  glory. 

This  persuasion  may  properly  be  called 
trustiiu)   in   the  Lord,   because  it   proceeds 


neither  on  pre-evidence  nor  inward  qualifi- 
cations, but  on  God's  bare  word  of  invita- 
tion, promise,  &c.  taking  that  as  a  sufficient 
authority  and  security.  By  this  a  proper 
dependence  of  the  creature  on  the  Creator 
is  preserved  and  kept  up.  And  unless  it 
can,  without  misrepresentation,  be  shewn 
inconsistent  and  anti-scriptural,  all  other 
objections  raised  against  it  are  but  of  small 
account ;  and  all  labour  to  form  it  into  a 
proposition,  true  in  itself,  whether  we  be- 
lieve it  or  no,  is  the  labour  of  diffidence 
and  unbelief.  For  it  is  plain,  they  cannot 
trust  to  God's  invitations,  commands,  and 
declarations  ;  and  are  seeking  a  reason  of 
hope  more  agreeable  to  themselves. 

"  Aspasio  maintains,  that  none  have  the 
proper  scriptural  faith,  but  those  who  are 
taught  by  the  enlightening  Spirit  to  draw 
the  conclusion." 

Aspasio  maintains,  "  that  when  the  di- 
vine Spirit  opens  our  eyes,  &c.  we  discover 
and  make  use  of  the  same  right  or  war- 
rant as  is  the  privilege  of  the  vilest  mis- 
creant ;  a  right  founded,  not  on  our  awaken- 
ed desires,  but  purely,  solely,  entirely,  on 
the  free  grant  of  a  Saviour." 

"  They  maintain,  that  reprobates  have  as 
fair  a  revealed  warrant  to  draw  the  conclu- 
sion, as  the  elect  have." 

That  is,  that  no  man  need  to  wait  to  see 
his  election,  or,  in  other  words,  any  differ- 
ence between  himself  and  other  men,  to 
warrant  his  confidence  in  Christ.  The  ge- 
neral indefinite  expressions  contained  in  the 
declarations  of  the  gospel,  such  as,  whoso- 
ever, any  man,  he  that  believeth  on  him,  &c. 
fully  authorizing  or  warranting  he,  any  man, 
whosover  he  be,  to  believe  or  tnisl  confident- 
lij  on  Christ  alone  for  everlasting  life.  Being 
taught  of  God  this  truth,  he  lives  by  Christ 
as  the  Saviour  of  the  lost ;  even  as  being 
taught  the  sufficiency  of  Christ,  he  lives  by 
that  alone. 

In  the  third  letter,  our  author  mistakes 
the  real  question  between  us.  It  is  not, 
"  Whether  or  not  did  Christ  finish  upon 
the  cross,  all  that  God  requires,  every  re- 
quisite, without  exception,  to  procure  ac- 
ceptance for,  and  give  relief  unto  the  guilty 
conscience  of  the  most  profane  wretch  that 
lives  ?" 

This  is  not  disputed  by  us,  but  maintain- 
ed more  properly  on  our  side  than  by  oiu' 
author-  The  question  between  us  is,  Whe- 
ther the  guilty  conscience  can  be  relieved 
from  the  sentence  of  condemnation,  by  the 
consideration  of  a  sufficient  righteousness 
for  the  elect  and  the  qualified  ?  Or,  whe- 
ther God  hath  not  provided  for  the  relief 
of  the  guilty  conscience,  by  giving  his  only 
begotten  Son,  that  we  might  live  through 
him?  giving  him  not  only  to  die,  but  giving^ 
him  in  the  divine  declarations  to  be  believ- 
ed on? 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


591 


"  Tt  must  be  tlie  very  same  thiiifj  wliicli 
pliiratcs  divine  justice,  or  which  fully  ex- 
presses the  necessary  opposition  ol'intinite 
goodness  to  evil  or  sin,  that  relieves  the 
sinner  from  the  sentence  of  condemnation, 
which  is  no  other  than  the  voice  of  God 
naturally  residing  in  the  conscience." 

As  it  would  be  very  absurd  to  suppose  it 
placates  the  divine  justice,  without  being 
considered  by  that  justice  in  the  behalf  of 
the  transgressor  ;  so  it  seems  to  be  equally 
absurd,  that  it  can  "  relieve  the  guilty  con- 
science from  the  sentence  of  condemnation," 
without  being  appropriated  by  that  con- 
science. 

The  sentence  of  condemnation  naturally 
residing  in  the  conscience,  requires  a  revela- 
tion of  righteousness,  that  I  may  as  really 
impute  to  myself  as  the  sin  that  condemns 
me,  or  the  condemnation  still  remains  un- 
touched- A  possibility  that  I  may  be  an 
elect  person,  cannot  give  relief,  because  it 
may  be  ten  to  one  it  is  not  true.  My  hope 
is  only  in  proportion  as  I  apprehend  many 
or  few  to  be  elected ;  and,  after  all,  it  is  not 
in  fact  Christ's  righteousness  that  relieves 
me,  but  my  conjectural  or  fond  hope  of  be- 
ing  one  of  the  elect. 

Christ  did  finish  upon  the  cross  that 
righteousness  "  which  placates  the  divine 
justice,  or  which  fully  expresses  the  neces- 
sary opposition  of  infinite  goodness  to  evil 
or  sin;"  that  righteousness  which  alone  can 
relieve  the  sinner  from  eternal  death,  entitle 
him  to  eternal  life,  and  bring  peace  and  hope 
of  everlasting  life  to  the  most  guilty  con- 
science. At  the  same  time,  it  would  be  ab- 
surd to  say,  Christ  finished  on  the  cross 
every  requisite  or  commandment  relative  to 
this  righteousness,  as  preached  or  declared 
in  the  world.  For  instance,  "  He  hath  com- 
manded all  men  everywhere  to  repent ;" 
which  I  understand  a  repentance  respec- 
tive of  this  righteousness  ;  and  the  same 
with  the  commandment,  "that  we  should  be- 
lieve on  the  name  of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ." 
Again,  the  voice  from  heaven,  "  This  is  my 
beloved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased,"  was 
attended  with  a  commandment  to  lie.ar  hint, 
agreable  to  Isa.  li.  1 — 5.  If  it  is  again 
inquired,  of  what  avail  are  these  conunand- 
ments  ?  It  may  be  answered,  as  the  com- 
mandment to  preach  the  gosjjel  to  every 
creature,  availed  to  be  the  savour  of  life  un- 
to life  in  them  that  are  saved,  and  of  death 
unto  death  in  them  that  perish  ;  so  the  com- 
mandment to  believe  on  the  name  of  his 
Son  Jesus  Christ  avails  to  encourage  and 
Warrant  the  sinner,  as  stich,  to  trust,  believe 
in,  or  ajipropriate  and  enjoy  that  righteous- 
ness. I  am  persuaded  Pala.'inou  will  not 
say,  that  Christ  finished  upon  the  cross  any 
of  the  commandments  above  mentioned  ;  as 
it  may  be  affirmed,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
the  obedience  to  these  commands  is  no  i)ait 


of  that  righleotisness  which  procures  accep- 
tance for,  or  gives  relief  imto  the  conscience 
of  the  most  profane  wretch  that  lives.  But 
Paliemon's  reply  is.  That  obedience  to  these 
commands  supposes  the  belief  of  the  gospel 
report.  Beit  so;  the  commandment  speaks 
to  them,  not  as  to  believers,  or  to  the  dis- 
tinguished among  mankind,  but  as  to  sinners 
or  children  of  wrath,  even  as  others  ;  and  is 
the  divine  method  of  grace  in  giving  us  a 
conscious  possession  or  enjoyment ;  which 
Palaemon  seeks  totally  by  works. 

"  What  is  the  turning-point  from  despair 
to  good  hope  ?" 

The  finished  work  of  Christ  alone.  How 
is  that  our  hope  ?  As  it  is  given  for  that 
purpose  to  be  the  hope  of  the  guilty. 

"  Aspasio's  faith  rests,  one  foot  on  the 
work  of  Christ,  and  the  other  on  human  ef- 
forts, or  the  motions  of  man's  heart." 

Quite  a  mistake.  Aspasio's  faith  is,  that 
the  work  of  Christ  is  given  to  him  :  on  this 
he  rests,  and  on  no  motions  of  his  heart 
whatever. 

"  What  gives  right  to  eternal  life?  The 
imputed  righteousness.  What  gives  right 
to  that?  The  work  of  faith.  Who  have  a 
right  to  act  faith  ?  Those  who  feel  an  aver- 
sion to  sin,"  &c. 

This  is  also  far  from  being  Aspasio's  view 
of  the  matter;  he  should  be  represented 
thus  :  What  gives  right  to  eternal  life  ?  The 
imputed  righteousness.  What  gives  right 
to  that  ?  The  declarations  of  the  gospel, 
giving  it  freely  to  sinners  as  such.  Who 
have  a  right  to  act  faith,  or  appropriate  this 
righteousness  ?  All  the  ends  of  the  earth  ; 
as  many  as  can  be  included  in  the  word  who- 
soever. To  any  of  all  the  ends  of  the  earth 
were  the  apostles  commissioned  to  say, 
"  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved."  To  exhort  thus  to  a 
passive  involuntary  conviction,  would  be 
very  absurd. 

Aspasio's  observation  is,  the  "grant  is 
made  to  sinners  ;  in  receiving  the  grant  we 
commence  believers,"  according  to  the  above- 
mentioned  apostolic  exhortation. 

"  But  Aspasio  will  still  insist,  that  these 
qualifications  are  by  no  means  the  ground 
of  their  right.  Let  us  see,  then,  where  the 
ground  of  their  right  lies." 

In  the  divine  declarations  to  siimers  as 
such. 

"  I  think  the  obvious  meaning  'of  Aspa- 
sio's words  is  this  :  these  persons  so  quali- 
fied, have  the  right,  exclusive  of  unqualified 
sinners." 

It  is  very  obvious  this  is  not  his  meaning. 

"  Where,  then,  can  the  ground  of  this 
right  lie,  but  in  the  distinguished  qualifica- 
tions ?  It  cannot  lie  in  any  thing  common 
to  both  ;  for  in  th;i.t  case,  the  unqualified 
would  have  as  good  a  right  as  the  qualified." 

They  have  so-      These  are  Aspasio's  real 


592 
sentiments 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


:  whatever  qualifications  make  a 
difference  between  one  man  and  another, 
they  confer  no  right  to  the  kingdom  of  God, 
they  confer  no  right  to  the  imputed  righte- 
ousness. For,  "as  all  have  sinned,  and 
come  short  of  the  glory  of  God,"  they  who 
are  justified,  are  "justified  freely  by  his 
grace,  through  the  redemption  which  is  in 
Jesus  Christ." 

"  They  have  nothing  in  the  heaven  above, 
nor  in  the  earth  below,  to  keep  their  hearts 
from  sinking  into  utter  despair,  but  the  bare 
propitiation.  This,  and  this  alone,  encou- 
rages them  to  make  their  address  to  God-" 

Can  this  encourage  further  than  they  see 
their  interest  in  it,  or  right  to  draw  near  to 
God  thereby,  in  virtue  of  his  gracious  decla- 
rations ?  And  how  are  they  to  address  God  ? 
As  their  friend  and  father,  on  account  of 
this  righteousness  ?  Then  th'ey,  in  fact,  ap- 
propriate it,  and  our  debate  is  at  an  end  ;  we 
are  agreed.  Or  do  they  address  God  only 
as  the  friend  of  some  who  are  to  be  known 
in  thne  by  suitable  qualifications  ?  If  this  is 
our  author's  meaning,  then  it  is  he,  and  not 
Aspasio,  that  in  drawing  near  to  God 
seeks  for  inherent  qualifications,  instead  of 
the  imputed  righteousness. 

"  By  this,  and  this  alone,  God  conveys 
the  first  taste  of  his  favour  and  peace  into 
their  hearts." 

Unless  we  conceive  of  the  imputed  righ- 
teousness as  graciously  granted  unto  us  in 
this  destitute  condition,  where  is  the  con- 
nexion ?  What  taste  of  favour  and  peace 
can  be  admitted  barely  by  the  consideration 
of  sufficiency  for  the  elect  ?  Sufficient  for 
me  a  guilty  sinner,  without  any  other  consi- 
(leiation,  is  evangelical.  To  wait  for  some- 
thing more  before  we  are  allowed  to  call  him 
friend  or  father,  on  account  of  this  righteous- 
ness, is  not  at  all  adapted  to  bring  us  nigh 
to  God  by  the  bare  projjitiation. 

"  And  it  pleases  me  to  find  Aspasio  had 
not  courage  to  close  this  period,  without 
bringing  forth  the  plain  truth  at  last.  For 
pointing  to  the  poor,  indigent,  and  guilty  sin- 
ners, he  concludes,  "For  such  the  Saviour  is 
provided  ;  to  such  his  benefits  are  proposed ; 
and  on  such  his  grace  will  be  magnified." 

If  it  is  allowed  that  his  benefits  are  pro- 
posed to  such,  the  debate  is  ended.  We 
mean  no  more.  It  is  undoubtedly  warranta- 
ble to  receive  and  appropriate  what  is  pro- 
vided for  the  enjoyment  of  any,  or  whoso- 
ever among  the  guilty,  and  proposed  to  our 
trust  and  confidence  under  that  name.  If 
any  other  consideration  must  intervene,  then 
it  is  plain  the  benefits  are  not  provided  for 
and  proposed  to  such,  but  only  for  and  to 
those  who  luive  the  additional  consideration. 

"  As  for  the  bare  work  finished  on  the 
cross,  or  the  bare  report  about  it,  however 
true  we  think  it,  so  far  have  we  mistaken  it, 
that,    setting    aside    our    active    operations 


al)out  it,  we  do  not  see  what  comfort  or  be- 
nefit can  be  derived  from  it." 

This  proceeds  on'a  total  mistake  and  mis- 
representation of  Aspasio  ;'he  is  not  puttin-^ 
the  least  slight  on  the  report  or  persuasion 
of  the  sufficiency  of  the  "finished  work  of 
.lesus  Christ,  to  justify  the  most  guilty, 
without  more;  he  is  here  opposing  a  quali- 
fied persuasion,  or  rather  mere  profession, 
artfully  substituted  in  the  room  of  the  suffi- 
cient righteousness,  and  the  sinner's  living 
by  that  alone.  A  persuasion,  "  that  the 
shelter  of  the  summer-house  is  free  for  our 
use,  accompanied  with  a  high  esteem  of  its 
accommodation,  and  earnest  desire  after  its 
protection,  or  an  habitual  tendency  towards 
it."  Aspasio  asks  not,  whether  a  persua- 
sion of  the  sufficiency  of  Christ,  but  "  a  per- 
suasion that  the  summer-house  is  free  for 
our  use  ;"  whether  this,  though  accompanied 
with  esteem,  desire,  or  tendency,  unless 
"  carried  into  actual  entrance  and  posses- 
sion," would  answer  the  end  and  design  of 
such»a  truth, — "  would  be  a  proper  safeguard, 
or  indeed  any  manner  of  advantage  as  to  our 
persons  ;"  that  is,  in  respect  of  possession, 
enjoyment,  and  advantage  from  that  enjoy- 
ment. These  are  his  very  words.  And 
let  any  one  impartially  judge,  whether  As- 
pasio is  here  objecting  against  the  finished 
work  of  Jesus ;  or  rather,  is  he  not  setting 
aside  a  fruitless  persuasion,  or  rather  pro- 
fession, that  the  shelter  is  free  for  our  use, 
with  dependence  on  our  supposed  esteems, 
desires,  tendencies,  &c.  that  the  soul  may  rest 
purely  and  entirely  on  Jesus  Christ  alone? 
whom  he  describes,  from  the  prophet 
Isaiah,  as  "  a  place  of  refuge,  as  a  covert 
from  the  storm  and  from  rain."  Aspasio 
asks.  If  a  persuasion  that  Christ  is  such  a 
place  of  refuge  and  covert,  free  for  our  use, 
accompanied  with  any  esteems,  desires,  and 
tendencies,  will  answer  to  such  a  rcpreseu- 
tation  ?  Which  is  in  fact,  whether  we  may 
trust  in  such  a  persuasion,  esteem,  desire, 
and  tendency,  instead  of  that  righteousness 
which  is  our  appointed  refuge  ?  It  is  plain, 
all  the  active  operations  pleaded  for,  is  to 
live  by  this  alone,  in  distinction  from  any 
other  dependence.  And  the  advantage  aris- 
ing from  these  active  operations,  is  the  en- 
joyment, comfort,  and  influence  of  this  suf- 
ficient righteousness. 

If  the  objector  had  been  pleading  for  the 
entire  sufficiency  of  the  work  of  Jesus,  As- 
pasio would  readily  agree  to  that,  and  have 
recommended  living  by  that  alone.  But 
after  he  had  so  far  coincided  with  Aspasio 
as  to  allow,  "  that  all  this  grace,  and  each 
of  these  benefits,  are  free,  perfectly  free  for 
you,  for  me,  for  others ;"  might  not  Asj)a- 
sio  ask,  Would  this  bare  persuasion  answer 
the  end  and  design  of  such  a  truth,  uidcss 
1  was  induced  thereby  to  really  use  it  as  a 
shelter?    That  is,  to  oppose  Christ's  right- 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


593 


eousness,  thus  freely  given  unto  me,  to  every 
sense  of  guilt  and  condemnation,  and  as- 
sure myself  of  salvation  by  that  alone.  As 
I  suppose  Mr.  Sandeman,  in  his  view  of 
things,  will  allow  the  believer  of  the  gospel 
report  to  oppose  the  truth  of  Christ's  suffi- 
ciency to  every  declaration  or  conviction  of 
guilt  tending  to  despair,  and  this  may  as 
properly  be  called  reducimj  that  truth  to  prac- 
tice. This  is  what  Aspasio  calls  reducing 
to  practice,  the  truth  of  Christ  being  given 
for  us  to  receive  and  live  by  him  as  such  a 
gift,  as  a  refuge  from  all  the  curses  of  the 
law  and  danger  of  damnation,  mito  the  end 
of  peace,  assurance,  and  holiness.  We  do 
not  consider  the  gospel  as  barely  furnishing 
us  with  good  and  excellent  materials  to  work 
upon,  but  with  blessings  to  enjoy  and  pos- 
sess as  our  own  ;  and  our  whole  comfort,  or 
any  part  of  it,  does  not  arise  from  the  suc- 
cess of  our  labour,  but  wholly  from  the 
blessings  so  freely  presented  to  us  to  take 
comfort  in  them,  and  is  very  far  from  mak- 
ing them  fit  to  comfort  us. 

"  Now,  it  does  not  signify  much  by  what 
name  we  call  the  mean  of  escape,  whether 
we  call  it  the  law  or  the  gosjjcl ;  for  the 
great  concern  we  have  with  either  of  these, 
is  to  obtain  righteousness  or  a  title  to 
life." 

However  true  this  may  be  of  those  who 
seek  by  works,  in  a  way  of  "  painful  desire 
and  fear,  till  they  aie  crowned  with  enjoy- 
ment," Aspasio  is  not  chargeable,  whose 
doctrine  'allows  an  immediate  enjoyment, 
without  the  intervention  of  any  righteous- 
ness or  work  whatever. 

"  For,  it  is  not  tlie  bare  knowledge  of 
the  law  or  gospel  that  can  do  us  any  service, 
but  the  use  we  make  of  them." 

This  is  but  mere  sound  ;  for  our  author 
pleads  for  the  above-mentioned  use  to  be 
made  of  the  report,  previous  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  i)iivilege.  The  use  we  make 
of  the  gospel  report,  is  immediately  to  live 
by  the  rigliteousness  it  reveals ;  whereas 
the  use  of  the  law  is,  to  do  that  we  may 
live.  Is  not  here  a  manifest,  yea,  is  not  here 
a  sufficient  difference  ? 


So  each  one  reasons  thus 


^ee^lg  many 


shall  j)ensh,  and  seeing  the  gospel  says  no 
thing  to  me  but  what  it  says  to  every  one, 
what  comfort  can  I  reap  from  it,  unless  1 
can  lind  about  myself  at  least  one  grain  of 
odds  casting  the  balance  in  my  favour,  in 
comparison  with  others,  or  in  comparison 
with  wliat  I  myself  have  hitheito  been  ?" 

But  this  is  not  Aspasio's  language,  which 
may  rather  be  vejjresented,  Seeing  the  gos- 
pel authorizes  me  and  every  sinner  to  live 
by  the  righteousness  it  reveals,  why  should 
I  not  make  tiiis  use  of  it  ?  Since  the  door 
into  the  kingdom  of  (lod  is  thus  open 
for  sinners,  why  should  I  any  longer  hesi- 
tate ? 


"  But  what  signifies  all  this,  says  the 
proud  devotee,  unless  I  can  find  some  rea- 
son about  myself,  why  the  Deity  should 
distinguish  me  as  his  favomite  beyond  other 
men?  And  thus  he  treats  the  bare  truth 
of  the  gospel  with  scorn  and  contempt." 

Aspasio  waits  for  no  such  reason,  there- 
fore this  representation  does  not  aflfeet 
him. 

"  [n  vain  shall  he  (any  sinner)  expect  to 
hear  one  syllable  more  from  God,  to  en- 
courage him  to  draw  nigh  to  him,  than  that 
*  he  is  well  jdeased  in  his  beloved  Son  ;' 
that  '  Jehovah  is  well  pleased  for  his  right- 
eousness.' " 

Hath  not  God  already  said,  "  He  that  be- 
lieveth  on  him  shall  not  be  ashamed  ?"  that 
"  he  that  cometh  to  him  shall  in  no  wise  be 
cast  out?"  &c.  Hath  he  not  given  him  as 
bread  from  heaven,  that  "  whosoever  eat- 
eth  him  should  live  by  him  ?"  Has  he  not 
given  "  eternal  life  to  us  in  him  ?"  even  so 
given  to  us,  that  "  whosoever  "  of  us  "  be- 
lieve not  this  record "  that  he  hath  given 
of  his  Son,  "  makes  him  a  liar  ?"  Are  we 
to  set  aside  these  declarations  as  no  encou- 
ragement to  us  to  approjjriate  or  to  draw 
nigh  to  God,  lest  we  should  not  sufficiently 
submit  ourselves  to  the  divine  sovereignty  ? 
Or,  are  we  not  rather  to  look  upon  them  as 
the  declarations  of  sovereign  grace ;  which 
has  found  out  a  way  consistent  with  the 
highest  justice  thus  to  show  favour  to  the 
guilty,  and  for  the  encouragement  of  such  to 
believe  on  him,  or  draw  nigh  with  confidence 
through  the  faith  of  him  ? 

"  The  apostle  John  says,  '  This  is  his 
commandment,  that  we  should  believe  on 
the  name  of  his  Son ;'  not  that  we  should 
do  any  thing  to  obtain  life,  but  that  we 
should  live  by  what  he  hath  done.  It  is  a 
commandment  not  requiring  any  thing  of  us, 
but  bestowing  life  by  the  knowledge  which 
it  conveys." 

If  I  live  by  what  he  hath  done,  I  account 
what  he  hath  done  given  me  for  that  pur- 
pose. And  this  is  also  the  use  I  make  of 
it ;  and  this  commandment  so  understood, 
requireth  nothing  of  us,  but  bestows  life  by 
the  knowledge  it  conveys.  So  that  what 
our  author  has  here  said,  expresses  our  whole 
mind,  and  may  end  the  dispute. 

"  Paul,  in  the  deepest  of  all  his  distress- 
es, was  relieved  by  that  very  faith  which  we 
modern  Christians,  in  the  height  of  our 
complaisance,  choose  only  to  call  of  the  en- 
feebled and  infantile  kind." 

A  mistake  this  ;  Paul  was  relieved  by  a 
view  of  the  sufficiency  of  grace  for  himself 
in  particular ;  "  J\Iy  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee."  Pie  waited  for  no  other  righteous- 
ness to  certify  him  that  this  sufficient  grace 
belonged  to  him. 

"  If  we  hearken  to  them,  the  great  point 
about  which  our  faith  is  princii)ally  concera- 


594 


A   DEFENCE   OF 


ed,  is  a  matter  which  turns  out  to  be  true — 
no  book  nor  man  can  tell  how." 

It  turns  out  to  be  true  in  God's  faithful- 
ness, answering  to  his  gracious  declarations. 
Our  assurance  or  appropriation  is  founded 
and  exercised  upon  God's  faitlifulness  to 
answer  to  what  he  has  revealed  as  the  ground 
of  our  confidence  :  That  "  he  has  given  to 
us  eternal  life  in  his  Son  ;"  that  "  in  this 
man's  name  is  preached  to  us  remission  of 
sins ;"  and  that  "  whosoever  believeth  on 
him  shall  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life."  So  that,  in  the  very  nature  of  the 
thing,  the  appropriating  language  is  only  the 
language  of  trust  and  confidence,  and  will 
turn  out  to  be  truth,  if  God  may  be  depend- 
ed on,  as  he  most  surely  may. 

"  In  the  gospel  offer,  we  are  told,  is  pre- 
sented to  the  poor  bankrupt,  a  bond,  or  hill 
indorsed  to  him,  to  relieve  him  from  his  po- 
verty.     It  is  not  his  as  yet." 

It  is  freely  given  to  him,  it  is  his  in  right 
to  possess  and  enjoy,  as  any  thing  we  are 
invited  to  partake  of.  It  is  therefore  bis  to 
live  upon,  though  not  his  in  present  enjoy- 
ment. It  is  not  presented  to  him  but  in 
common  with  others  who  perish,  rejecting  it 
as  insufficient ;  yet  it  is  so  really  presented 
to  him,  that  he  is  welcome  to  live  by  it,  or 
avail  himself  of  it  as  his  own,  without  per- 
forming one  act,  or  obtaining  one  qualifica- 
tion to  entitle  him  to  it.  The  diffieidly  lies 
in  a  man's  being  thoroughly  persuaded  that 
this  is  true  ;  which  when  a  man  really  is,  he 
immediately  lives  by  this  rerealed  righteous- 
ness without  more. 

"  He  at  last  lays  hold  of  it,  so  it  becomes 
his." 

It  becomes  his  by  that  same  grace  which 
has  convinced  him  of  its  truth,  and  influenc- 
ed him  thereby  to  appropriate  and  enjoy  it. 
It  becomes  his  in  possession  and  enjoyment 
Not  that  God  imputes  it  on  account  of  our 
appropriation  ;  that  only  serves  the  use  of 
peace  of  conscience  by  it,  and  a  warrantable 
enjoyment  by  the  divine  word,  and  to  de- 
monstrate we  are  those  to  whom  it  is  imput- 
ed. 

Mr.  Marshall,  Mr.  Boston,  and  Messrs. 
Erskines  maintain,  that,  according  to  the 
law,  "  man  is  bound  to  believe  whatever 
God  declares,  and  do  whatever  he  com- 
mands ;  that  the  duty  of  believing  to  be 
true  what  God  has  reported,  and  receiving 
what  he  has  commanded  us  to  receive  or 
take  to  ourselves,  belongs  to  the  law  ;  which 
fastens  the  new  duty  upon  us,  the  moment 
the  gospel  reveals  the  new  object."  And 
if  this  is  not  true,  how  will  the  hearers  of 
the  gospel  be  condemned  for  despising  or 
neglecting  this  great  salvation  ?  And  if 
this  is  true,  why  may  not  gospel  ministers 
declare  agniiist  the  rejecters  of  this  grace, 
what  will  be  matter  of  their  just  condcm- 


that  they  that  perish,  perish  justly,  awd  of 
their  own  will  and  choice,  vindicating  tl)e 
righteous  judgment  of  God. 

And  is  it  not  to  be  maintained,  consist- 
ent with  this,  that  the  gospel  is  purely  and 
entirely  a  revelation  of  a  sufficient  right- 
eousness for  the  most  guilty  ?  That  where 
it  takes  place  in  the  heart,  it  is  by  the  so- 
vereign grace  of  him  who  provided  the 
righteousness  it  treats  of?  That  in  receiv- 
ing it  for  true,  and  living  by  it,  they  are  ful- 
filling the  command  of  the  new  covenant ; 
they  are  performing  of  duty  ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  the  subjects  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment promise,  in  having  that  obedience  or 
law  written  on  their  heart,  by  the  Spirit  of 
the  living  God,  as  a  Spirit  of  grace  and 
truth  ? 

"  1  hope  Satan  docs  not  chain  you  to 
your  houses,  nor  stake  you  down  to  your 
fields  on  the  Lord's  day." 

This  is  rather  to  be  considered  as  a  con- 
victing them  of  their  sinful  negligence  and 
willing  ignorance,  than  giving  any  direc- 
tions what  we  must  do  to  be  saved.  In 
that  case  we  allow  the  answer  is,  Either 
keep  the  law  yourself,  or  live  by  what  Christ 
has  already  done. 

"  We  may  now  turn  our  eyes  more  par." 
ticularly  to  those  who  are  most  successful 
in  propagating  a  perverted  gospel.  These 
men  do  indeed  press  very  hard  upon  the 
conscience  to  awaken  fear ;  but  when  they 
have  driven  the  serious  hearer  almost  to  de- 
spair, by  an  awful  description  of  his  miser- 
able condition,  and  by  representing  him  as 
utterly  imable,  in  every  respect,  to  contri- 
bute any  thing  towards  his  own  deliverance, 
they  at  last  condescend,  with  no  small  art 
and  address,  to  make  some  comfortable  ex- 
ceptions from  the  foregoing  awful  doctrine. 
Now  is  described,  in  a  variety  of  particidars, 
a  convenient  resource,  where  the  pride  of 
the  serious  hearer  may  exercise  itself  with 
great  hopes  of  success." 

The  pride  of  the  serious  hearer  is  the 
conceit  of  his  being  able  to  do  or  obtain 
something  to  deliver  himself,  as  proceeding 
from  his  propensity  to  live  by  something  he 
is  to  do,  whereby  he  becomes  self-depend- 
ent. The  truth  is,  the  gift  of  the  divine 
righteousness  depends  on  no  doing  or  dif- 
ference in  man.  The  being  quickened  by 
the  truth  of  the  gospel,  to  hear  the  voice  of 
God  therein,  depends  on  the  sovereign  good 
pleasure  of  heaven.  A  man  hearing  this 
voice  of  God,  not  to  the  qualified,  but  to  the 
absolutely  guilty  and  lost,  is  made  obedient 
to  the  commands  and  exhortations  to  be- 
lieve on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  or  to  live 
by  his  righteousness,  without  waiting  for 
any  other  \  and  the  obedience  that  answns 
as  an  echo  to  that  divine  voice,  counnand, 
invitation,  &c.  is,  and  can  be  no  other,  i1i;im 


nation?  or,  in  other  words,  what   proves   trusting,  depending,  and  assuring  ourselves 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


595 


of  siilvation  by  flirist  alone,  in  obedience 
to  tbe  divine  declaration,  as  Lazarus  came 
fortli  in  obedience  to  the  voice  that  quick- 
ened him.  When  we  bid  sinners  believe 
on  Christ,  we  would  be  understood  as  ex- 
hibiting a  quickening  truth,  as  well  as  a  di- 
vine command  ;  that  is,  that  there  is  a  suf- 
ficient Saviour,  who  may  safely  be  depend- 
ed on.  And  in  obedience  to  this  voice  we 
are  not  doing  that  we  may  live,  but  we  are 
living  by  Christ  alone,  in  obedience  to  him 
who  makes  the  dead  to  hear  his  voice.  The 
pride  of  the  serious  hearer  may  be  as  much 
excited  by  being  told  to  do,  that  they  may 
know  their  salvation,  as  to  do  to  be  saved. 
"  The  preacher  finds  it  necessary  to  warn 
his  hearers  to  avoid  all  thoughts  of  this 
doctrine  of  election  at  present." 

That  is,  when  election  is  objected  against 
the  divine  declarations,  encouraging  the 
guilty  under  that  character,  and  \\dthout 
any  evidence  of  election,  to  live  immediate- 
ly by  Christ's  righteousness.  For  the  jail- 
or to  have  objected  election  against  Paul, 
when  he  bid  him  believe  on  the  Lord  Je- 
sus Christ,  would  have  been  from  the  ene- 
my. 

"  Because  (says  he)  there  is  in  this  doc- 
trine no  visible  ground  for  faith  to  rest  upon, 
no  visible  resoince  for  the  pride  of  any  man." 
No  visible  ground  for  a  sinner's  confi- 
dence or  trust  in  Christ  alone,  which  is  not 
the  pride  of  man,  but  essential  to  the  faith 
of  God's  elect. 

"  Sometimes  they  take  great  pains  to 
shew  us  how  little  we  do  when  we  put 
forth  an  act  of  faith." 

The  act  we  plead  for,  is  to  live  alone  by 
what  Christ  has  done  ;  whether  we  call  it 
believing  on  Christ,  receiving,  appiopriat- 
ing,  trusting,  or  whatever  name  we  give  it — 
this  is  what  we  mean.  Our  opponents  on 
this  head,  are  those  who  are  for  having 
some  good  thing  to  be  wrought  in  us,  or 
done  by  us,  before  we  are  to  be  allowed  to 
live  by  what  Jesus  has  done  ;  which  is,  in 
fact,  a  denial  of  its  being  wrought  for  the 
guilty.  When  they  have  been  driven  out 
of  every  subterfuge,  they  at  last  plead,  that 
we  tell  people  to  believe  on  Christ ;  where- 
as it  is  the  Sjiirit's  work,  and  they  must 
wait  for  tins  working  of  the  Spirit  before 
they  are  able  to  believe.  We  do  not  pre- 
tend to  deny,  that  for  a  man  to  believe  on 
tlie  Son  of  tiod  is  the  Spirit's  work  ;  but 
at  the  same  time  are  assured,  that  when  a 
man  is  taught  of  God  to  believe  Christ's 
righteousness  a  ])rovision  for  the  guilty,  he 
is  not  taught  to  assume  any  other  character 
as  his  title  to  it.  Nor  is  he  taught  of  God 
to  consider  himself  in  any  other  light  than 
as  guilty,  and  justly  condemned.  And 
therefore,  we  farther  insist  upon  it,  that  a 
man,  without  waiting  for  any  thing  more 
than  what    ('hrist   lias  already  done,  is  to 


live  by  that,  as  sufficient  for  him,  and  given 
to  him  in  the  indefinite  grant  of  the  gospel. 
And  this  he  has  to  do,  that  is,  live  by 
Christ's  righteousness  in  obedience  to  the 
divine  command  and  invitation,  when  he 
feels  nothing  good  in  him  to  embolden 
him  thereto  ;  and  to  depend  upon  it,  that 
that  righteousness  will  not  fail  him.  And 
thus  far  we  proceed  scripturally,  according 
to  the  answer  given  to  the  Philippian 
jailor. 

We  have  also  asserted,  that  a  man  may 
ask  the  question.  What  shall  I  do  to  be 
saved  ?  and  yet  be  but  upon  nature's  bot- 
tom. The  direction  to  that  man,  is  not  to 
wait  for  to  do  something,  or  to  get  some- 
thing done  in  him,  but  to  believe  on  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  When  it  has  been  ob- 
jected to  this,  that  nature  cannot  believe 
on  Christ,  and  therefore  such  are  not  to  be 
told  so ;  we  have  answered,  He  that  gives 
the  command  is  able  to  overcome  this  diffi- 
culty by  divine  conviction  of  the  truth, 
writing  his  laws  in  our  hearts  and  minds. 
And  while  we,  thus  taught  of  God,  in  obe- 
dience  to  the  word,  are  endeavouring  to  be- 
lieve or  trust  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to 
obtain  our  certainty,  and  rest  satisfied  with 
this  righteousness,  the  Spirit  of  grace  and 
truth  may  further  dissipate  eveiy  distrustful 
suggestion,  and  make  us  fully  so.  And 
here,  by  belie\ang  on  Christ,  we  mean  such 
a  trusting,  confiding  on  him,  as  we  allow 
follows  a  divine  passive  conviction  of  the 
truth  ;  that  kind  of  activity  which  is  inti- 
mated in  the  Scripture  phrases,  Acts  xvi. 
31,  John  vi.  35,  and  John  iii.  23. 

We  caimot  believe  through  our  own  na- 
tural averseness  to  live  by  the  righteousness 
of  another,  or  our  proneness  to  establish 
our  own.  But  at  the  same  time,  he  that  is 
taught  of  God,  when  he  acknowledges  he 
can  do  nothing,  he  rejoices  that  nothing  is 
left  him  to  do,  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  he 
is  called  to  live  by  what  Christ  has  already 
done.  And  they  who  will  not  distinguish 
this  life  from  an  endeavour  to  live  by  our 
own  righteousness,  cannot  be  farther  talked 
with. 

As  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  suffi- 
ciency of  Christ,  and  his  being  freely  given 
to  the  guilty  and  lost,  is  the  only  conviction 
of  truth  that  is  free  from  self- righteousness  ; 
so  to  live  by  this  sufficient  righteousness  as 
so  given,  is  the  only  activity  that  most  im- 
mediately answers  to  the  above-mentioned 
truths. 

Pala'mon  cannot  deny  but  coming  to 
Christ  has  the  promise  of  "  being  in  no  ways 
cast  out;"  but  he  judges  it  to  be  an  obedi- 
ence in  consequence  of  faith,  or  the  belief 
of  the  truth.  This,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
not  denied  him  ;  and  it  may  be  also  affirmed, 
that  the  promise  is  an  encouragement  of  cer- 
tainty of  success  to  every  one  that  comes  tQ 


596 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


him,  and  a  divine  declaration  which  ascer- 
tains the  sufficient  righteousness  to  be  im- 
puted to  every  particular  person  answering 
that  character.  Coming  to  Christ  is  allowed 
to  be  more  than  a  passive  cojiviction  ;  it  is 
allowed  to  be  something  active  in  conse- 
quence of  such  a  conviction  ;  and  as  it  can- 
not be  any  such  activity  or  coming  as  con- 
tradicts the  alone  sufficiency  of  Christ's  fin- 
ished work,  what  answers  to  the  Scripture 
descriptions  or  names  given  to  this  activity 
more  properly,  than  living  by  that  sufficient 
righteousness,  instead  of  doing,  or  seeking 
to  do,  any  thing  to  add  thereto  ? 

And  as  far  as  Aspasio,  Marshall,  &c. 
plead  for,  or  encourage  to,  an  activity  of  this 
kind,  they  cannot  be  accused  justly  of  setting 
up  another  righteousness.  This  activity 
terminates  in  its  object,  and  resolves  itself 
entirely  therein.  The  business  to  be  ac- 
comjilished  by  this  activity,  is  only  to  come 
under  such  a  certainty  of  salvation  by  Christ 
alone,  as  is  implied  in  the  words  trust  and 
confidence ;  and  the  nature  of  it  is  as  oppo- 
site to  setting  up  another  righteousness,  as 
the  persuasion  of  Christ's  sufficiency.  Pa- 
liemon  pleads  for  activity  in  coming  at  the 
certainty  of  our  interest  in  Christ's  sufficient 
work  ;  and  we  plead  for  no  more.  Which, 
therefore,  removes  our  plea  beyond  the  reach 
of  his  objections. 

To  plead  for  appropriation  as  something 
to  be  added  to  entitle  to  acceptance,  is  lia- 
ble to  Palsemon's  objections.  To  plead  for 
it  so  as  to  make  the  sufficient  righteousness 
depend  on  that  act  for  its  acceptance  with 
God  in  our  behalf,  may  also  be  accused  as  a 
doctrine  of  self-dependence  ;  but  to  appro- 
priate it  as  an  effect  of  the  report  believed, 
as  a  means  of  ascertaining  to  ourselves  eter- 
nal life  by  that  righteousness  revealed,  and 
as  an  animating  priiicij)le  of  obedience,  evi- 
dencing our  special  interest  therein,  is  not 
at  all  liable  to  such  objections. 

"  If  faith  must  be  called  an  instrument, 
and  if  it  be  at  the  same  time  maintained, 
that  justification  comes  by  faith  only  ;  then 
I  am  at  full  liberty  to  affirm,  that  he  who  is 
possessed  of  the  instrument,  hand  or  mouth, 
is  already  justified,  without  regard  to  his 
using  the  instrument,"  &c. 

Quite  a  mistaken  view  ;  because  faith.,  or 
appropriation  of  Christ,  has  no  existence  in 
itself  without  its  object,  as  material  instru- 
ments have. 

"  We  shall  seldom  find  them  speaking 
any  thing  like  the  language  of  the  go.spel, 
without  cautioning,  mincing,  or  clogging  it 
with  some  exceptive,  hut,"  &c. 

Tlie  apostle  says,  "  To  him  that  worketh 
not,  but  believeth,"  &c.  There  is  a  believ- 
ing that  stands  opposed  to  working  ;  and  if 
our  but  in  the  but  of  the  ajiostle,  and  only 
respects  our  receiving  the   record,  and  iij)-- 


propriating  the  revealed  righteousness  ac- 
cordingly, it  is  free  from  this  exception. 

"  Though  Theron  is  divested  of  all  righ- 
teousness of  his  oivn,  of  every  qualijication  and 
every  recommendation,  he  must  yet  be  well 
provided  with  requisites,  even  such  as  may 
embolden  him  to  make  the  appropriation." 

A  wide  mistake  -.  Aspasio's  scope  and 
design  throughout,  is  to  show,  that  nothing 
emboldens  to  appropriation  but  the  divine 
grant  to  sirmers  as  such. 

"  He  (  Theron)  is  very  willing  to  believe 
that  he  is  a  gracious  person." 

How  evident  does  it  appear,  from  the 
passage  here  quoted,  that  the  faith  or  truth 
recommended  was,  "  that  all  was  his  ;"  that 
is,  by  way  of  the  divine  grant  of  heaven  to 
the  guilty.  Quite  diflferent  from  believing 
about  himself,  that  he  is  a  gracious  person. 

"  And  while  Theron  cannot  be  brought 
to  believe,  Aspasio  beholds  his  title  perfectly 
clear." 

Aspasio  beheld  his  title  or  warrant  to  ap- 
propriate from  the  divine  grant  made  to  sin- 
ners, not  from  the  prerequisites  of  Theron. 

"  I  must  frankly  own,  that  I  see  no  more 
diflference  betwi.xt  a  careless  and  convicted 
sinner,  than  is  betwixt  a  felon  ranging  his 
round  at  large  and  one  newly  apprehended 
by  the  officers  of  justice  ;  and,  for  my  part, 
I  think  it  would  look  liker  an  impertinent 
sarcasm  than  any  thing  else,  to  tell  either  of 
these  last,  that  he  was  now  in  a  very  hope- 
ful way." 

As  faith  comes  by  hearing,  we  hope  for 
another  when  we  can  prevail  with  him  only 
to  hear.  This  does  not  imply,  that  there 
is  a  foundation  of  hope  in  them.  We  hope, 
when  we  see  people  concerned  about  their 
everlasting  state,  that  this  concern  will  ter- 
minate in  listening  to  the  remedy  that  is 
graciously  pro\aded. 

"  As  if  one  could  reap  any  spiritual  bene- 
fit from  studjdng  the  divine  law,  or  know 
how  pure,  how  extensive,  how  sublimely 
perfect  it  is,  before  he  knows  Christ  the 
end  thereof  for  righteousness ;  as  if  such  a 
one  could  judge  of  bis  spiritual  state  impar- 
tially." 

Palaemon  seems  to  forget  that  he  has  in- 
timated, that  "  it  was  for  want  of  compar- 
ing themselves  with  the  divine  law,  that  the 
Pharisees  made  their  mistake."  He  that 
measures  himself  by  others,  instead  of  this 
sublimely  perfect  standard,  must  at  last 
stand  self-condemned.  He  that  measures 
himself  hereby,  will  know  his  state  to  be 
desjierate,  unless  relieved  by  the  finished 
work  of  Christ. 

"  Asi)asio,  then,  hath  found  out  a  path, 
by  walking  wherein  the  guilty  may  confi- 
dently hope  to  arrive  at  righteousness  at 
last." 

Not  ^0  ;  but  Aspasio  hath  found  himself 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


59: 


i^iiiityby  coin])iuiiig  biniscU  witli  the  diviii 
iiiw.  lie  bath  found  thediireieiice  so  great, 
as  to  lead  him  to  despair  of  himself;  he 
hath  found  Christ  the  end  of  the  law  fo: 
righteousness,  and  the  prineiple  of  new  evan- 
gelical obedience.  He  testifies  of  this  with 
confidence,  as  a  subject  wherewith  he  is 
really  acquainted,  and  testiiics  of  what  he 
has  experienced  to  be  true. 

"  I'he  doubtsomc  faith  he  (E.  E.)  com- 
plains of,  is  that  which  admits  of  a  doubt 
concerning  one's  own  state.  Now,  a  man 
may  have  some  doubts  about  this,  who  is 
very  firmly  jiersuaded  of  the  truth  of  the 
gospel." 

The  doublsome  faith  we  complain  of,  is 
the  want  of  that  confidence  answerable  to 
the  gracious  declarations  of  salvation  in 
Clirist  to  the  absolutely  guilty ;  and  not  a 
man's  doubting  about  himself,  or  what  he  at 
present  is.  On  the  contrary,  we  maintain, 
that  this  persuasion  of  a  new  state  in  Christ, 
implies  our  natural  state  to  be  quite  bad, 
and  past  recovery  ;  and  the  particular  appli- 
cation we  plead  for,  is  flying  from  a  bad 
state  in  our  natural  situation,  to  a  good  state 
in  the  person,  righteousness,  and  blessing  of 
Christ. 

As  existence,  and  consciousness  of  existence, 
bear  such  a  relation  to  each  other  in  the  hu- 
man mind,  that  the  former  is  only  enjoyed 
by  the  latter ;  so  is  justification,  and  the 
consciousness  of  it.  If  I  perceive  not  my 
justification,  it  is  to  me  as  if  I  was  not  jus- 
tified. If  I  iipprehend  it  is  so  from  a  false 
foundation,  it  will  prove  to  me  as  a  dream 
which  vanishes  when  wide  awake.  If  a  man, 
by  some  kind  of  argument,  was  to  persuade 
me  that  I  existed  a  thousand  years  ago, 
though  I  am  not  now  conscious  of  it,  it 
would  be  the  same  delusion  as  if  he  was  to 
persuade  me  that  I  am  now  King  George, 
or  the  King  of  Prussia.  For  a  hundred 
such  existences  is,  in  fact,  a  hundi'ed  men  ; 
every  man's  own  consciousness  ascertaining 
himself  to  himself,  in  distinction  from  any 
other.  In  like  manner,  if  a  man  was  to 
use  arguments  to  persuade  me  that  I  was 
justified  long  ago,  when  I  was  not  consci- 
ous of  it,  he  could  propose  no  other  end, 
his  labour  could  no  otherwise  terminate, 
than  in  persuading  me  that  I  am  now  justi- 
fied. And  that  which  is  brought  to  prove 
■  that  I  am  one  of  those  who  were  justified 
long  ago,  when  I  was  not  conscious  of  it, 
may  as  well  give  me  a  consciousness  of  my 
present  justification,  without  all  that  round- 
about labour.  Uidess  it  is,  that  while  we 
are  considering  these  i)re-existing  justifica- 
tions, we  are  apt  to  slip  ourselves  in  for  a 
sliare,  upon  a  foundation  that  will  not  bear 
a  present  scrutiny.  The  Scripture,  there- 
fore, does  not  thus  metaphysically  subtilize, 
it  docs  not  thus  separate  our  justification 


from  the  consciousness  of  it.  He  that  is 
justified  by  the  finished  work  of  ('hrist, 
without  any  conciousness  of  a  difference  be- 
tween himself  and  others,  is  justified  as  un- 
godly ;  has  peace  with  God  by  that  whi<Ii 
justifies  him  ;  and  is  justified  by  his  faith  ; 
that  is,  not  by  what  he  does,  but  what  he 
believes  ;  and  the  additional  confirmation, 
by  the  fruits  of  faith,  or  consciousness  of 
our  not  being  deceived  in  our  justification 
by  faith,  is  called  by  the  apostle  James, 
justification  by  works,  without  bearing  any 
contradiction  to  the  alone  righteousness  by 
which  we  are  justified.  If  my  justification 
arises  to  me  from  the  difference  there  is  be- 
twixt me  and  others,  I  may  be  .'■•aid  to  be 
justified,  or  enjoy  justification,  by  that  dif- 
ference. If  the  spring  of  my  hope  arises 
to  my  view  from  the  report  making  me  wel- 
come to  the  finished  work  of  Christ,  as  the 
righteousness  jirovided  for  the  guilty  to  live 
by,  then  I  am  justified,  or  enjoy  justifica- 
tion, by  Christ's  righteousness  given  to  me, 
in  opposition  to  any  thing  done  by  me,  or 
l)erformed  in  me.  If  my  personal  justifica- 
tion, and  the  consciousness  of  it,  stand  so 
nearly  related,  it  is  not  at  alf  improper  that 
the  ground  of  our  acceptance  with  God,  and 
the  ground  of  our  consciousness  of  that  ac- 
cei)tance,  should  be  of  the  same  kind.  So 
that  if  I  am  accepted  with  God  by  the 
work  of  Christ  alone,  given  to  me,  I  am  to 
know  my  acceptance  with  God  just  upon 
the  same,  and  no  other  foundation.  If  it 
were  not  so,  the  favourite  something  might 
be  set  up,  and  the  pride  of  man  as  fully  gra- 
tified under  the  name  of  marks  and  eviden- 
ces, as  it  is  under  the  name  of  entitling  con  ■ 
ditions  ;  and  we  are  as  effectually  taught  to 
draw  near  with  a  "  God,  I  thank  thee  I 
am  not  as  other  men."  The  sufficient 
righteousness  justifies  a  man,  or  gives  him 
a  consciousness  of  his  acceptance  with  God, 
when  he  knows  it  is  graciously  given  to  him, 
so  that  he  is  made  welcome  to  draw  near  to 
God  on  that  account.  He  that  believes,  to 
the  peace  of  his  conscience,  believes  this, 
and  does  not  rest  in  an  uncertain  conjectur- 
al hope.  Says  Paiaimon,  a  hope  grounded 
on  the  sovereignty  of  God  ;  say  we,  not 
unless  that  sovereignty  has  declared  a  ground 
of  hope  for  us ;  otherwise  we  rest  in  bare 
conjecture.  But  hearing  that  Jesus  has 
fulfilled  all  righteousness  for  the  justification 
of  those  guilty  ones  who  believe  in  his 
name,  from  a  conviction  that  the  doctrine  is 
true,  we  assure  ourselves,  in  dependence  on 
the  divine  veracity  and  faithfulness,  that  the 
privileges  are  our  own  ;  or  that  we  shall  not 
be  confounde(r'in  so  trusting  to  Jesus. 

"  Paul  calls  upon  some  whom  he  himself 
looked  upon  as  believers,  to  examine  them- 
selves whether  they  were  in  the  faith  ;  and 
he  exhorts  others,  about  whom  he  observed 


698 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


the  surest  tokens  of  their  being  true  Christ- 
ians, to  give  all  diligence  to  remove  every 
doubt  concerning  their  state." 

When  Paul  bid  the  Corinthians  "examine 
themselves,"  &c.,  he  plainly  intimates  their 
being  in  the  faith  a  self-evident  matter  ;  and 
that  to  be  in  the  faith,  and  to  have  Christ 
in  them  as  the  peace  of  their  consciences 
and  hope  of  glory,  is  the  same  thing ;  and 
this  was  the  surest  evidence  that  he  had 
been  a  minister  of  Christ  unto  them.  He 
is  not  here  calling  them  to  remove  the  doubts 
concerning  their  own  state,  by  a  discovery 
of  their  faith,  love,  and  self-denied  obedi- 
ence. It  is  also  very  impi-obable,  that  the 
apostle  should  (as  Palaemon  says)  have  the 
surest  tokens  of  their  being  Christians,  and 
yet  call  them  to  doubt  of  it. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  Aspasio  so  much 
carried  away  with  their  (t.  e.  the  popular 
preachers)  dissimulation."  He  points  out 
to  Theron  his  danger  and  remedy  in  the 
following  manner  :  "  If  you  fail  in  one  point 
or  in  any  degree,  you  are  guilty  of  all.  If 
your  conformity  be  not  persevering  as  well 
as  perfect,  you  incur  the  penalty,  and  are 
abandoned  to  the  curse,"  unless  you  find 
mercy  by  what  Christ  has  already  done. 
No  ;  but  "  unless,  renouncing  all  your  per- 
sonal performimces,  you  place  all  your  affi- 
ance on  a  Saviour's  atonement,  and  a  Sa- 
viour's righteousness." 

They  who  endeavour  to  renounce  their 
personal  performances,  as  an  entitling  per- 
formance required  of  them,  act  inconsist- 
ently ;  but  they  who  evidently  renounce 
their  own,  from  a  gospel  discovery  ot  the 
Redeemer's  righteousness,  and  live  alone  by 
that,  in  virtue  of  the  divine  declarations,  are 
taught  of  God,  and  find  mercy  by  what 
Christ  has  already  done. 

"  This  good  conduct  of  ours,  by  which 
we  are  said  to  escape  the  curse." 

So  we  are,  according  to  Palaemon,  to  take 
care  that  we  have  no  affiance,  or  confidence 
in  Christ's  atonement  or  righteousness,  be- 
cause that  is  escaping  the  curse  by  some 
good  conduct  of  our  own  ! 

"  Were  (says  Aspasio)  that  firm  and  joy- 
ful reliance  on  Christ  Jesus  in  any  degree 
proportioned  to  his  infinite  merits  and  in- 
violable promises."  "  And,  if  (says  Palae- 
mon) I  cannot  find  acceptance  with  God, 
but  in  being  conscious  of  perfect  confor- 
mity to  this  new  law,  then  I  am  in  as  great 
danger  as  before." 

Aspasio  moves  this  very  question,  not  to 
obtain  a  prerequisite,  but  to  manifest  the 
necessity  of  a  better  righteousness  than  our 
reliance,  considered  as  a  performance  or 
work  of  ours,  that  we  may  rely  upon  the 
sufficient  work  of  Christ,  without  recurring 
to  any  other. 

The  gospel  declarations  are  not  to  be  se- 
parated from  our  Sa\iour,   his   atonement, 


or  righteousness.  Nor  can  our  affianoe, 
knowledge,  or  enjoyment,  through  that  re- 
port, be  separated  from  either.  Is  Christ's 
righteousness  presented  to  me  as  a  security 
from  the  curse  of  the  law  ?  My  affiance 
therein,  or  knowledge  thereof,  is  Christ, 
my  security,  enjoyed  by  me,  and  manifest- 
ed to  me.  The  apostle  was  not  so  curious 
as  to  distinguish  and  divide  with  our  author, 
when  he  said,  "  I  count  all  things  but  loss," 
not  for  the  excellency  of  Christ,  in  distinc- 
tion from  the  knowledge  of  him,  but  "  for 
the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ 
Jesus  my  Lord  ;"  and  this  he  styles,  "  not 
having  on  his  own  righteousness." 

"  My  expectations  were  greatly  raised  by 
the  beautiful  and  affecting  description  of 
the  royal  stag-chase,  in  Dialogue  9,  till  I 
saw  the  sinner's  relief  described  as  coming 
to  him  by  means  of  such  conflicts  and  strug- 
gles," &c. 

Aspasio  does  not  mean,  struggling  to 
believe  the  report,  but  struggling  for  that 
rest,  which  comes  at  last  in  a  way  they 
thought  not  of ;  that  is,  by  the  report.  The 
reasons  of  the  soid-struggles  described,  are 
ignorance  and  self-righteousness,  seeking 
other  methods  of  relief  than  by  the  declara- 
tion of  eternal  life  given  in  Christ ;  and  it 
frequently  proves,  that  after  many  useless 
struggles  in  diverse  ways,  the  soul  thus  finds 
rest. 

"  They  knew  their  interest  in  Christ's 
death,  by  the  efltct  that  his  death  had  upon 
them." 

Christ's  death  hath  its  effect  upon  us, 
when  we  draw  near  to  God  thereby  ;  which 
is,  in  fact,  when  we  appropriate  it. 

"  They  imagine,  that  something  besides 
the  bare  truth  may  contribute  more  or  less 
toward  their  escape." 

They  are  clear  of  this  charge,  who  escape 
by  what  that  truth  declares. 

"  The  gospel  leads  a  man  to  the  greatest 
reverence  for,  and  submission  to  the  divine 
sovereignty,  without  having  any  claim  upon 
God  whatsoever,  or  finding  any  reason  why 
God  shoidd  regard  him  more  than  those 
that  perish. 

Palaemon  maintains,  that  all  who  acknow- 
ledge the  truth  of  Christ's  sufficiency  have 
the  promise  of  salvation.  He  does  not 
imagine  a  dependence  on  this  promise  op- 
poses the  most  absolute  submission  to  the 
divine  sovereignty  ;  but  is  rather  a  depend- 
ence on  the  promises  of  sovereign  grace. 
And  if  we  are  persuaded  of  a  grant  of  this 
sufficient  righteousness  to  the  guilty,  why 
may  not  this  be  admitted  as  fully  consistent 
with  the  same  submission  to  the  divine  so- 
vereignty ? 

"  The  divine  sovereignty  appearing,  that 
grace  might  be  shown  to  the  worthless  ;  and 
the  divine  justice  appearing  in  justifying  the 
ungodly,"  it  is   vt:ry  readily  inknowledged. 


TIIERON  AND  7\SPASI0. 


599 


leaves  a  man  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  CJod    graciously  provided  as  a  refuge   unto  such. 


for  his  salvation.  Here  no  man's  pride 
(iattered  ;  "  no  man  can  find  any  ground  to 
presume  that  the  Deity  regards  him  more 
than  others.  And  the  relief  a  man  finds 
by  this  discoveiy  is,  that  God  can  be  just, 
and  justify  him  as  he  at  present  stands, 
without  more,  or  while  he  finds  nothing 
about  himself  in  the  way  of  wish,  desire,  or 
otherwise,  but  what  renders  him  obnoxious 
to  the  divine  dis]ileasure."  The  question 
that  remains  is,  whether  God  has  not  in- 
tended a  farther  relief  for  such  guilty  help- 
less ones,  even  to  assure  them  of  their  par- 
ticular salvation  in  believing,  trusting,  and 
confiding  in  this  sufticieiit  righteousness,  as 
given  freely  to  them  to  be  thus  depended 
upon  ?  whether  there  is  not  a  word,  pro- 
mise, call,  or  testimony,  to  this  purpose  ? 
and  whether  Christian  obedience  is  not  in- 
fluenced by  an  assurance  thus  obtained  ? 
At  the  same  time,  we  can  also  readily 
agree,  that  "  no  man  can  warrantably  be  as- 
sured that  lie  is  already  a  Christian,  a  be- 
liever in  Christ,  or  that  he  is  an  object  of 
the  peculiar  favour  of  God,  but  by  being 
also  conscious,  on  good  grounds,  that  his 
practice,  in  obediejice  to  the  peculiar  pre- 
cepts of  Christianity,  is  intluenced  by  that 
same  tmth  which  influenced  the  lives  of  the 
apostles." 

Now,  if  there  is  such  a  word,  promise,  call, 
or  testimotuj,  as  above  mentioned,  it  is  very 
distinct  from,  though  not  contrary  to,  the 
declarations  concerning  i\ie  purpose  auA  elec- 
tion of  God  ;  and  affords  a  visible  ground 
for  our  confident  dependence  on  that  right- 
eousness, as  sinners,  without  finding  any 
reason  about  ourselves  why  God  should  re- 
gard us  more  than  others  ;  whereas  the  doc- 
trijie  of  election,  in  the  nature  of  it,  is  not 
of  itself  «ipable  of  affording  lis  this  relief. 

It  is  true,  "  this  word,  promise,  call,  or 
testimony,  leaves  it  as  much  a  secret  what 
l)articular  person  shall  be  saved,  as  the  doc- 
trine of  the  divine  purpose  or  election  does  ;" 
but  does  not  leave  the  sinner  so  much  with- 
out a  warrant  to  appropriate.  Notwith- 
standing the  do('trine  of  election,  Paltemon 
will  allow,  that  "  by  him  all  that  believe  are 
justified."  So  also  it  is  said,  "  He  that 
cometh  to  him  shall  in  no  wise  be  cast  out ;" 
"  He  that  believeth  on  him  shall  never  be 
confounded." 

In  this  view  of  things,  we  are  fillly  war- 
ranted "  to  represent  the  Deity  as  keeping 
secret  his  gracious  intentions"  to  beget  this 
or  that  particular  jierson  by  the  word  of 
truth  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  "  revealing 
his  gracious  intentions"  to  save  all  those,  or 
any,  whosoever  they  be,  that  'without  see- 
ing any  difference  at  all  between  themselves 
and  others,  shall,  upon  the  bare  invitation 
and  divine  promise  to  the  guilty,  live,  trust, 
or  depend  on  his  Son  and  liis  righteousness, 


And  while  we  "  are  busy  in  proini)ting  our 
hearers  to  live  thus  by  Christ  alone,  as  given 
freely  and  indefinitely  to  the  guilty,  we  have 
reason  to  show  no  small  concern,  lest  Satan 
tempt  theiri"  to  think,  that  because  God's 
people  are  chosen  to  salvation,  they  are  not 
allowed  to  feed  upon  the  bread  of  life,  till 
they  know  themselves  to  be  distinguished 
from  other  sinners  as  God's  chosen.  Here- 
by salvation  to  the  absolutely  guilty  is  de- 
nied ;  and  the  people  are  taught  to  hojie 
for  eternal  life,  only  by  that  which  distin- 
guishes them  from  the  rest  of  mankind. 
This  is  building  wood,  hay,  and  stubble,  on 
the  precious  foundation  Christ,  the  Saviour 
of  the  lost. 

"  They  tell  us,  that  God  hath  made  a 
grant,  or  deed  of  gift  of  Christ,  and  all  his 
benefits,  to  sinners  of  mankind.  But  when 
we  inquire  into  this  again,  we  find  it  turns 
out  to  be  a  gift  of  benefits  to  multitudes  who 
are  never  benefited  thereby." 

And  what  of  all  that?  Could  there  be 
no  such  thing  as  manna  given  to,  or  rained 
daily  around  the  camp  of  Israel,  because 
some  despised  it,  and  longed  for  the  flesh- 
pots  of  Egypt  ?  Must  it  follow,  that  there 
is  no  such  gift,  because  multitudes  neglect 
and  slight  it  ;  or  because,  like  Palsemon, 
they  will  not  be  persuaded  there  is  such  a 
gift  ?  Shall  our  unbelief  make  the  gift,  the 
faith,  or  faithfulness  of  God,  of  none  effect  ? 
It  remaineth  nevertheless  a  truth,  that  who- 
soever believeth  on  him,  or  receiveth  the 
gift,  shall  not  perish,  but  have  eternal  life. 
And  why  may  not  they  miss  of  the  benefit 
of  this  gift,  who  thus  reject  it,  as  the  word 
preached  never  profited,  not  being  mixed 
with  faith  in  them  that  heard  it  ? 

"  It  might  with  equal  propriety  be  said, 
that  there  is  a  grant  of  life  made  in  the  law, 
and  that  the  divine  willingness  to  bless  men 
is  therein  expi'essed.  Keep  the  command- 
ments, and  thou  shalt  live." 

It  might  so ;  the  difference  lies  here : 
The  grant  of  life  in  the  law  requires  condi- 
tions to  be  previously  performed,  before  we 
may  presume  to  account  the  blessing  ours. 
The  gospel  bestows  life  in  Christ  without 
any  condition,  or  as  a  free  gift  to  be  imme- 
diately enjoyed. 

Several  instances  of  the  faith  of  those 
who  were  healed  by  Christ  are  adduced,  to 
evidence  that  they  only  believed  Christ's 
ability  to  cin-e  them.  To  this  I  answer, 
that  in  those  instances  they  waited  for  a 
])roper  ground  or  declaration  to  proceed 
upon,  in  believing  that  he  would ;  and  for 
that  purpose,  they  made  application  to  him. 
And  where  they  had  ground  for  concluding 
the  event,  they  were  as  certain  of  that  as  of 
his  ability.  And  faith  in  those  cases  in- 
cludes that  certainty.  1  (^or.  xiii.  2-  "  If 
I  had  all  faith,  so  that  I  could  remove  moun- 


GCO 


A  DEFENCE  OP 


tains ;"  compare  with  Matt.  xvii.  20. 
"  When  he  saw  he  had  faith  to  be  healed," 
Acts  xiv.  9,  and  in  Luke  v.  19.  29,  they 
neither  doubted  his  ability  or  willingness. 
In  our  case,  the  grant  of  a  Saviour  to  the 
guilty  is  declared,  as  well  as  the  sufficiency 
of  his>  righteousness  ;  hence  we  make  God  a 
liar,  if  we  do  not  proceed  on  the  truth  of  both. 

"  The  leper,  like  the  two  blind  men,  was 
fully  persuaded  that  Christ  was  able  to  re- 
lieve him.  Yet,  as  he  had  no  claim  upon 
him,  he  referred  his  request  entirely  to  his 
soveieign  pleasure.  In  the  full  assurance 
of  faith,  he  was  at  Christ's  mercy,  who  was 
no  wi^-e  obliged  to  apply  his  healing  power 
to  him." 

But  this  is  no  argument  against  that  ap- 
propriation which  proceeds  entirely  upon 
the  gracious  declaration  and  grant  of  that 
sovereign  good  pleasure.  If  the  sovereign 
good  pleasure  has  declared  the  guilty,  as 
sutli,  so  welcome  to  what  is  already  done, 
that  "whosoever  believeth  on  him  shall 
have  eternal  life,"  he  hath  no  other  applica- 
tion to  make,  or  to  wait  for.  We  may  be 
without  any  claim  upon  God  to  do  for  us 
any  thing  that  he  has  not  already  done,  or 
to  give  us  any  right  unto  what  is  already 
done  ;  but  as  far  as  he  is  pleased  to  declare 
himself,  it  is  our  business  assuredly  to  be- 
lieve, trust  in  him,  or  hope  in  his  mercy. 
Aud  that  appropriation  which  proceeds 
wholly  upon  his  gracious  declaration,  is 
consistent  with  the  utmost  submission  to 
sovereign  grace. 

"  Sovereign  gracfiW  interposed,  providing 
a  righteousness  for  the  guilty  world." 

Palsemon  should  say,  to  ascertain  his 
meaning,  "  providing  a  righteousness  for 
some  of  the  guilty  world." 

"  When  once  the  gift  of  righteousness  is 
made  known  to  a  man." 

Can  the  gift  properly  be  said  to  be  made 
known  to  a  man,  luiless  he  knows  to  whom 
it  is  given  ?  A  gift  to  nobody,  is  no  gift. 
A  gift  to  the  elect,  or  to  the  qualified,  is 
not  a  gift  to  the  guilty  world,  l)ut  to  them 
that  are  chosen  out  of  it,  and  distinguished 
from  it. 

"  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God, 
hath  the  record  in  hmiself, — the  record  that 
God  gave  of  his  Son." 

Palaemon  slips  over  the  record  here  treat- 
ed of,  viz.  "  That  God  hath  given  us  eternal 
life,  and  this  life  is  in  his  Son."  This  the 
apostle  points  unto,  as  what  is  to  be  par- 
ticularly regarded,  "  And  this  is  the  re- 
cord," &c.  Nor  should  the  testimony, 
that  he  is  well  pleased  in  liim,  be  under- 
stood in  any  sense  exclusive  of  it. 

*'  In  like  manner,  all  his  children  in  the 
faith  believe  the  divine  word  for  righteous- 
ness, without  perceiving  any  shadow  or 
symptom  of  it  about  themselves ;  without 
feeling,    or  being  conscious  of  any    thing 


about  themselves,  to  concur  with  the  divine 
word,  to  make  out  their  righteousness." 

This  description  suits  Asjjasio  much  bet- 
ter than  Palaemon,  who  waits  for  a  disco- 
very of  his  faith,  love,  and  self-denied  obe- 
dience. 

"  If  we  look  into  the  Scripture,  must  we 
not  say,  that  all  the  good  works  which  shall 
be  recompensed  at  the  resurrection  of  the 
just,  are  produced  by  the  influence  of  the 
divine  Spirit  dwelling  in  the  hearts  of  those 
who  believe?  Yet  such  is  the  connexion 
betwixt  every  good  work  and  its  reward, 
that,  according  to  the  Scripture,  the  justice 
of  God,  not  to  say  his  giace,  is  concerned 
to  make  it  good.  Heb.  vi.  10.  '  God  is 
not  unrighteous  to  forget  your  work  and  la- 
bour of  love.'  *  Whosoever  shall  give  you 
a  cup  of  water  to  drink  in  my  name,  verily, 
I  say  unto  you,  he  shall  not  lose  his  re- 
ward.' Justice  as  well  as  grace  will  appear 
in  the  last  judgment ;  then  due  regard  will 
be  had  to  every  man's  works.  But  in  the 
justification  of  sinners,  God  has  no  respect 
to  any  man,  as  better  than  another.  He 
considers  men,  when  he  commends  his  love 
to  them,  as  ungodly,  and  without  strength, 
that  is,  without  any  will  to  be  better.  And 
all  who  find  mercy,  are  brought  to  view 
themselves  in  that  same  point  of  light 
wherein  God  beheld  men,  when  he  gave 
his  Son  to  die  for  them.  They  do  not  find 
themselves  prepared,  or  made  fitter  than 
others  for  mercy,  by  any  work  of  the  divine 
Spirit  upon  their  minds  ;  but  they  find  their 
first  taste  of  comfort  by  hearing  of  him, 
'  who  through  the  eternal  Spirit  oflFered 
himself  without  spot  to  God.'  " 

Then  they  find  their  first  taste  of  com- 
fort independent  of  any  previous  discovery 
or  discernment  of  their  faith,  love,  or  self- 
denied  obedience.  And  their  first  taste  of 
comfort  is,  not  that  there  is  a  sufficient 
righteousness  provided  for  the  elect,  or  the 
qualified,  but  that  there  is  a  sufficient  right- 
eousness provided  for  the  guilty  to  live  by, 
without  waiting  for   any  farther  discovery. 

"  The  popular  doctrine  supposes  that  un- 
believers may  be  seriously  engaged  in  pray- 
ing for  the  Holy  Spirit  to  help  them  to 
faith,  and  exhorts  ihem  accordingly ;  which 
is  as  absurd  as  to  sn])pose,  that  a  man  may 
be  desirous  of  being  influenced  by  the  Spi- 
rit of  a  truth,  which  at  present  he  neither 
believes  nor  loves.  For  I  reckon  it  must 
be  granted,  that  no  man  loves  the  gospel 
before  he  believes  it." 

If  we  only  understood  by  the  gospel  that 
we  were  welcome  to  do  something,  or  to 
wait  and  pray  for  something,  to  denominate 
us  Christ's  people,  then  we  might  be  com- 
plaining for  want  of  this  power,  praying  for 
it,  and  perhaps  falsely  comforted  with  the 
suppored  will  for  the  deed  ;  and  all  the 
while  there  is  no  willingness   to  live  entire- 


TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


601 


ly  by  what  Christ  has  done.  But  tliis  is 
not  tlie  rase ;  when  Aspasio  considered 
Bj)pro|)riation  as  essential  to  faith,  and  press- 
ed it  accordingly,  he  understood  by  a])pro- 
priation,  a  living  entirely  by  Christ's  righte- 
ousness alone,  without  waiting  for  any  other. 

"  When  our  systems  describe  faith  to  us, 
as  a  saving  grace  bestowed  on  us,  by  which 
we  make  use  of  Christ  for  salvation  ;  are 
we  not  led  to  think  of  some  grace  necessary 
to  our  salvation,  beside  what  appeared  when 
Christ,  by  the  grace  of  God,  tasted  death 
for  the  sins  of  men  ?" 

But  inasmuch  as  Aspasio's  whole  pl#h  is 
to  live  immediately  by  that  grace  alone, 
without  waiting  for  any  other,  he  stands 
clear  of  this  mistake. 

"  They  seem  to  forget  that  Christ  is  in 
heaven,  and  we  on  earth  ;  that  the  only  way 
wherein  we  can  receive  benefit  from  Christ, 
is  by  the  report  concerning  him  conveyed 
to  our  ears." 

If  the  report  in  this  particular  case  in- 
vites and  authorizes  us  to  live  by  him,  and 
the  righteousness  which  he  performed,  who 
is  gone  to  heaven  ;  we  may,  notwithstand- 
ing he  is  gone  to  heaven,  receive  the  report 
for  true,  and  also  lay  hold  of,  or  live  by,  the 
righteousness  it  thus  reveals  and  conveys  to 
us. 

"  When  he  comes  to  know  that  he  may 
be  justified,  he  finds  immediately  a  covert 
from  the  storm." 

But,  according  to  Palaemon,  he  does  not 
find  this  to  be  a  covert  for  him,  till  he  dis- 
covers distinguishing  qualifications  ;  where- 
as Aspasio  finds  a  covert  for  the  guilty  sin- 
ner without  any  such  distinction. 

"  If  now  we  understand  by  the  storm, 
the  wrath  that  is  to  come,  the  believer, 
knowing  that  Christ  hath  done  enough  to 
deliver  from  it,  loves  him,  takes  hold  of 
him,  or  flies  to  him." 

How  ? 

"In  obeying  his  commands,  and  frequent- 
ing every  mean  of  corresjiondcnce  with  hitn." 

He  that  loves  him,  takes  hold  of  him,  or 
flies  to  him,  obeys  his  commands,  and  is  in- 
clined to  frequent  every  means  of  corres- 
pondence with  him  ;  but  to  give  us  this  as 
the  meaning  and  import  of  those  scriptural 
phrases  and  representations,  more  becomes 
Mr.  Locke  or  Archbishop  Tillotson,  than 
the  evangelical  Pala^mon.  He  may  be  as- 
sured, if  he  abides  by  this  doctrine,  the  of- 
fence of  the  cross  will  soon  cease.  The 
primitive  Christians  were  taught  to  obey, 
because  "  .Jesus  had  delivered  them  from 
the  wrath  to  come."  1  Thess.  i.  10.  They 
fled  to  him  as  the  righteousness  provided 
for  the  guilty  and  destitute;  and  by  the  en- 
joyment of  liim  under  this  character,  they 
were  disposed  to  all  other  obedience. 

"  Accordingly,  we  fnid  Barnabas  exhorted 
those  at  Antioch,  in  whom  he  saw  the  grace 


of  God,  that  with  purpose  of  he  rt  they 
would  '  cleave  unto  the  Lord.'  The  con- 
sequence of  which  was,  they  assemliled  to- 
gether in  the  appointed  church  order,  and 
denied  themselves  in  sending  relief  to  tlie:r 
brethren  in  Judea." 

Did  they  not  assemble  as  members  ot 
Christ,  and  partakers  of  his  righteousness? 
Did  they  not  cleave  to  him  as  the  Lord 
their  righteousness  ?  Or  did  they  only  fall 
into  the  appointed  church-order,  in  order  to 
escajje  the  wrath  to  come?  If  so,  what  is 
now  become  of  the  sufficient  righteousness  ; 
or,  n  short,  of  all  the  apostolic  exhortations, 
which  constantly  proceed  upon  the  certainty 
of  salvation  by  Christ,  as  the  principle  of  all 
the  obedience  they  call  for  ? 

See  what  effect  the  knowledge  of  Christ 
had  on  Paul,  and  what  was  his  steady  pur- 
pose :  "  Yea,  doubtless,  and  I  count  all 
things  but  loss,  for  the  excellency  of  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord." 

Paul  says,  '*  My  Lord,"  the  thing  we 
plead  for  ;  and  counts  himself  "  apprehend- 
ed of  Christ  Jesus."  So  that  it  is  plain,  he 
"  ran  not  as  uncertainly,  he  fought  not  as 
one  that  beateth  the  air."  And  as  his  as- 
surance did  not  allow  him,  or  lead  him  to 
trifle,  or  slacken  his  diligence  in  pressing 
forward  to  the  desired  end  :  so,  on  the  other 
hand,  his  pressing  forward  was  far  from  be- 
ing the  result  of  his  uncertainty;  far  from 
being  animated  with  a  view  to  know,  by 
his  performances,  whether  the  divine  so- 
vereignty had  interposed  in  his  behalf. 

Paloemon  does  not  approve  of  Aspasio 
saying,  "  You  must  endeavour,  diligently 
endeavour,  to  believe."  But  we  may  plead 
in  his  excuse,  that  Aspasio  is  not  here  press- 
ing to  receive  a  report  as  true  without  evi- 
dence, but  to  appropriate  and  live  by  the  re- 
vealed righteousness  ;  to  obtain  and  main- 
tain thereby  that  certainty  of  acceptance 
with  God,  which  was  necessary  to  animate 
and  incline  to  all  evangelical  obedience,  and 
is  included  in  every  apostolic  exhortation. 
"  Wherefore,  as  ye  have  always  obeyed — 
as  ye  have  received  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord, 
so  walk  in  him .  Work  out  your  own  sal- 
vation. Fight  the  good  fight  of  faith,  lay 
hold  on  eternal  life,"  &c.  And  thus  under- 
stood, we  may  allow,  with  Palamon,  that 
"by  such  arguments  God  worketh  in  them 
that  believe,  both  to  will  and  to  do,  not 
any  thing  in  order  to  justification,  but  all 
those  things  wherein  their  salvation  is  evi- 
deuced." 

"  If  a  friend  of  mine  should  see  me  cheer- 
ful on  hearitig  something  new,  and  I  should 
tell  him  I  was  comforted  by  an  act  of  faith  ; 
would  he  not  say  I  trilled  with  him,  and 
readily  ask  what  good  news  I  had  heard, 
I  that  he  might  partake  in  my  satisfaction  ?' 

But  this  representation  does  not  reacn 
[those  who  plead  for  an  immediate  and  con- 


602 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


stant  living  upon  the  complete  and  perfect 
righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  are 
comforted  by  his  acts,  and  their  own  has  no 
other  concern  in  it. 

"  Faith,  with  its  effects,  is  in  Scripture 
often  signified  by  one  expression,  and  ac- 
cordingly connected  with  salvation  ;  as  when 
it  is  said,  '  Whosoever  shall  call  on  the 
name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  saved.'  Now, 
though  we  cannot  say  that  a  believer  is  sav- 
ed on  account  of  his  prayers,  yet  we  may 
say  that  he  is  saved  on  account  of  what  he 
believes,  and  by  which  he  is  encouraged  to 
pray.  It  is  easy  to  see  love  and  hope  ex- 
pressed in  all  the  prayers  of  faith  recorded 
in  the  Scripture  ;  yet  it  would  be  absurd  to 
infer  from  thence,  that  prayer,  love,  and 
faith,  are  requisites  in  order  to  justification, 
for  if  we  agree  with  the  apostles,  we  must 
still  maintain,  that  justification  comes  by 
faith,  and  not  by  works — not  by  any  thing 
we  do  in  obedience  to  any  law  whatsoever." 

And  at  the  same  time  it  must  be  acknow- 
ledged, that  faith  is  duty  and  obedience  to 
the  divine  law,  and  in  this  sense  a  work  ; 
for,  as  our  author  has  observed,  "  Will  not 
that  law  which  Christ  came  to  fulfil,  the  law 
which  requires  love  to  God  with  all  the 
heart,  condemn  all  who  by  their  unbelief 
make  God  a  liar?  Docs  not  the  Spirit  of 
God  convince  all  whom  he  brings  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth,  of  sin,  because  they 
believe  not  on  Christ  ?  In  fine,  is  there 
any  thing  contrary  to  the  gospel  of  the 
glory  of  the  blessed  God  not  condemned 
by  the  divine  law  ?"  How  can  these  be  re- 
conciled, unless  we  admit  that  faith  is  so 
far  a  work,  duty,  or  obedience,  as  has  been 
above  mentioned  ?  Yet,  as  Palsemon 
maintains,  we  are  justified  only  by  what  we 
believe.  We  are  justified  by  faith,  as  we 
are  pleased  with  a  sight,  that  is,  with  what 
we  see.  And  God  justifies  us  by  faith 
when  he  gives  us  this  sight  of  faith,  where- 
by we  are  thus  justified.  And  thus  to  be 
justified  by  Christ's  blood,  and  to  be  justi- 
fied by  faith,  is  the  same  thing. 

If  Palsemon  will  abide  by  what  he  says, 
that  the  Scriptures  point  forth  the  freedom 
of  divine  grace  to  the  setting  aside  all  hu- 
man distinctions,  in  such  language  as  this, 
"  If  any  man  will  come  after  me, — Let  him 
that  heareth  say.  Come  ;  and  whosoever 
will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely" 
—-we  are  then  agreed  ;  this  is  the  founda- 
tion of  all  we  plead  for,  that  sinners,  as 
such,  are  made  welcome  to  take  of  the  wa- 
ter of  life  freely. 

"  If  the  Scriptures  describe  believers  as 
pilgrims  and  strangers  on  earth,  as  running 
the  Christian  race,  denying  themselves  for 
the  sake  of  the  heaveidy  inheritance,  and 
accordingly  '  ilying  for  refuge,  to  lay  hold 
upon  the  hope  set  before  them  ;'  our  preach- 
ers, ever  mindful  of  their  acts  of  faith,  are 


ready  to  exhort  us  to  put  forth  the  acts  of 
flying  to  Christ,  and  laying  hold  on  him." 

The  passage  alluded  to  is  Heb.  vi.  18, 
19.  "That  by  two  immutable  things,  in 
which  it  was  impossible  for  God  to  lie,'we 
might  have  a  strong  consolation,  who  have 
fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  upon  the  hope 
set  before  us  :  Which  hope  we  have  as  an 
anchor  of  the  soul,  both  sure  and  steadfast," 
&c.  Who  have  fied,  is  an  act  passed,  and 
bears  a  manifest  reference  to  flying  from 
the  revenger  of  blood  to  the  cities  of  refuge, 
Numb.  XXXV.  27  ;  to  which  city  the  man- 
slaj^r  being  fled,  was,  while  there,  secure  : 
not  in  his  act,  but  in  the  privilege  of  the 
city  wherein  he  now  dwelt ;  and  waited  un- 
to the  death  of  the  high-priest,  as  the  hope 
set  before  him.  The  hope  set  before  us, 
the  apostle  tells  us,  we  yet  see  not,  "  but 
with  patience  wait  for  it,"  Rom.  viii. 
25.  But  how  can  we  with  patience 
wait  for  it,  if  it  is  not  at  present  the 
"  anchor  of  the  soul,  both  sure  and 
steadfast?"  Or,  as  the  apostle  says  in 
another  place,  "  I  so  run,  not  as  uncertain- 
ly." Yet  as  his  security  lay  in  that  righte- 
ousness of  Christ  alone,  he  kept  his  body 
(all  his  temporal  concerns)  under  subjec- 
tion thereto,  even  as  the  manslayer  abode 
in  the  city  of  refuge,  knowing  there  was  no 
safety  for  him  elsewhere.  When  a  man 
performs  his  acts  of  obedience,  that  he  may 
thereby  gain  himself  a  conscious  title,  pos- 
session, or  enjoyment  of  the  favour  of  God, 
it  is  but  of  little  moment  whether  he  styles 
it  the  favour  of  God  by  Christ,  or  by  any 
other  name.  His  way  to  come  at  it  is  still 
the  same — by  his  own  obedience.  Nor  can 
this  be  flying  for  refuge  to  Christ,  but  ra- 
ther choosing  my  own  performances  as  my 
security,  and  betaking  myself  to  them. 

"  If  Barnabas  exhorts  those  in  whom  he 
saw  the  grace  of  God,  with  purpose  of 
heart  to  '  cleave  unto  the  Lord,'  after  the 
example  of  the  believers  who  were  said  to 
be  added  unto  the  Lord  when  they  were 
added  to  the  society  of  the  disciples,  keep- 
ing his  commands,  then  we  are  told,  that 
justifying  faith  is  a  cleanng  to  Christ." 

It  will  answer  our  purpose,  and  convey 
our  whole  meaning  to  say,  the  faith  which 
justifies  cleaves  to  Christ ;  and  in  exhorting 
to  cleave  to  Christ,  we  exhort  to  continue 
in  the  faith.  The  phrase,  "  Believers  were 
the  more  added  to  the  Lord,"  is,  very  evi- 
dently, neither  more  nor  less,  than  that 
many  more  were  begotten  to  the  faith. 

"  But  Aspasio  tells  us,  that  it  is  the  of- 
fice of  faith  '  to  take  and  use  the  inestim- 
able gift.'  If  in  this  or  any  other  part  of 
the  New  Testament,  more  be  meant,  by  re- 
ceiving Christ,  than  knowing  him  or  be- 
lieving on  him,  then  I  am  ready  to  shew, 
that  more  than  faith  is  meant,  namely,  faith 
I  with  its  fruits  and  effects." 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


603 


By  receiving  Christ  more  may  be  meant 
than  know in(]  him,  hwi  not  more  than  be- 
lievimj  on  him.  We  may  be  said  to  know 
a  thing,  when  its  evidence  forces  itself  upon 
the  mind  ;  but  to  believe  on  Christ  is,  in  the 
Scripture  sense,  the  subject  of  exhortation. 
If  Pakemon  will  confine  himself  to  mean, 
by  faith,  no  more  than  a  passive  conviction 
of  truth,  it  shall  be  allowed  him,  that  by 
believing  on  Christ  more  than  he  means  by 
faith  is  intended.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  the  plirases  laijing  hold,  leaning,  &c.  more 
is  allowed  to  be  meant  by  these  expressions 
than  Palffimon  means  by  faith.  At  the 
same  time  it  may  be  affirmed,  that  these 
expressions  of  activity  "  do  not  contribute 
their  (juota"  to  our  justification,  since  we 
are  justified  by  the  righteousness  received, 
trusted,  or  leaned  upon,  and  not  by  our  act. 
We  are  justified  by  what  we  receive,  even  as 
PaUemon  will  allow  we  are  justified  by 
what  we  believe. 

"  The  faith  of  the  Gospel  is  indeed  the 
basis  of  trust." 

If  so,  we  are  agreed  again ;  for  this 
trust  we  call  believing  on  Christ.  If  the 
faith  of  the  gospel  is  the  basis  of  trust,  it  is 
of  appropriation  ;  for  how  can  I  trust  in 
that  wherein  I  am  not  allowed  to  take  any 
share  ?  If  we  are  not  allowed  to  trust  in  the 
Redeemer's  righteousness  when  absolutely 
guilty,  the  faith  of  the  gospel  is  not  the  ba- 
sis of  trust.  In  Pakemon's  view,  the  gos- 
pel only  shows  us  the  possibility  of  the  sal- 
vation of  the  elect,  and  cannot  therefore  be 
the  basis  of  trust  to  a  sinner  ;  but  the  dis- 
covery of  his  obedience,  as  giving  him  hopes 
tliat  he  is  one  of  the  elect,  is,  in  fact,  the 
matter  wherein  his  trust  is  founded. 

"  If  one  approaching  to  a  frozen  lake  or 
river  over  which  he  has  occasion  to  pass, 
tells  me,  that  he  has  been  assured  by  good 
information,  that  the  ice  was  sufficiently 
strong  to  support  him ;  and  yet  afterall  proves 
timorous,  and  averse  to  make  the  trial  by 
venturing  his  person  freely  upon  it,  I  plainly 
perceive  he  has  no  faith  in  the  report  lie 
heard,  because  he  does  not  trust  in  it ;  or, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  he  cannot  trust,  rely, 
confide  iji,  or  venture  himself  upon  the  ice." 
There  cannot  be  a  more  apt  illustration 
of  what  we  plead  for.  And  he  that  ven- 
tines  his  eternal  concerns  on  the  all-suffi- 
cient righteousness  of  Christ,  with  the  same 
confidence  that  he  that  believes  the  ice  will 
bear  him  ventures  his  body  upon  that,  will 
not  be  averse  to  run  the  risk  of  his  interest 
and  reputation  also  for  the  -sake  of  it.  We 
can  therefore  have  no  objection  to  Paltemon, 
when  he  says, 

"  If  one  tells  me  that  he  believes  the 
gos))ei,  and  yet  proves  averse  to  risk  his  in- 
terest or  reputation  in  the  world  for  the 
salci!  of  it,  I  immediately  perceive  that, 
wliatever  he  speaks  with  his  mouth,  he  docs 


not  in  his  heart  believe  the  gospel,  because 
he  puts  no  trust  in  it." 

"  Perhaps  it  will  now  be  inquired,  are 
no  rules  to  be  observed,  no  means  to  be 
used,  no  works  to  be  exerted  by  the  huniati 
mind  or  body,  in  order  to  justification  ?  The 
answer  is  ready:  Yes,  very  many.  And 
they  may  be  thus  shortly  summed  up  :  Be 
perfect,  keep  the  commandments,  and  thou 
shalt  live.  The  obligation  of  the  law  is 
eternal,  and  cannot  be  loosed.  But  per- 
haps another  state  of  the  question  will  be 
demanded,  and  that  faith  should  be  more 
directly  respected  therein.  Well,  then,  let 
it  stand  thus  :  Ought  not  a  man  to  be  at 
pains  to  attain  the  persuasion,  that  all  the 
pains  he  takes  are  good  for  nothing,  except 
to  enhance  his  guilt  ?  Here,  methinks,  we 
are  landed  at  downright  absurdity  ;  for  who 
will  labour  in  hopes  of  being  convinced  that 
all  his  labour  is  to  no  purpose,  unless  to 
his  hurt  ?" 

This  we  may  allow  to  be  very  well  stated, 
with  respect  to  the  persons  whom  it  con- 
cerns. But  the  question  between  our 
author  and  Aspasio  really  stands  thus  :  Are 
no  rules  to  be  observed,  no  means  to  be 
used,  no  acts  to  be  exerted,  by  the  human 
mind  or  body,  to  arrive  at  the  certainty  of 
our  own  particular  justification  ?  I'aluimor. 
says,  Yes,  a  great  many ;  as  m:iny  as  will 
serve  to  demonstrate  that  we  are  elected  ■: 
Aspasio  says.  Only  thankfidly  to  receive  or 
accept  the  blessings  as  freely  giwu.  And 
all  the  direction  given  by  Aspasio  respects 
this  question,  and  not  the  suliiciency  of  tlie 
finished  work  of  Christ  to  justify  the  most 
guilty. 

"  The  design  of  the  passage,  Rom.  x.  19, 
20,  21,  is  plainly  to  show,  that  faiih  conies 
not  by  any  human  endeavours,  or  the  ust 
of  any  means,  even  under  the  greatest  ad- 
vantages that  men  can  enjoy,  but  of  tha; 
same  sovereign  good  pleasure  wliicli  pro- 
vided the  grand  thing  believed." 

Here  is,  then,  notwithstanding  all  Pal . 
asmon's  exactness,  a  something  more  thai: 
the  finished  work  of  Christ,  a  something 
called  faith,  which  he  tells  us  comes  "  oi 
that  same  sovereign  good  pleasure  which 
provided  the  grand  thuig  believed."  Palae- 
mon  will  reply,  he  means  no  more  than  be- 
lieving that  which  is  provided  is  sufficient; 
nor  do  we  mean  any  more  by  apj)ropriation, 
than  receiving  that  which  is  sufficient,  as 
believing  it  to  be  freely  given  to  us  for  that 
purpose. 

"  I  would  here  subjoin,  by  way  of  post- 
cript  to  this,  some  reflections  on  the  iissur- 
ance  or  ap|)ropriation  said  to  be  essential  to 
saving  faith. 

"  While  various  terms  and  distinctions 
are  coined  by  i)opular  preachers  on  this  sub- 
ject, great  neglect  is  shown  to  a  very  plain 
md  obvious  distinction,  which  Paul  makes 


604  A  DCF 

betwixt  tlie  assurance   of  faitli  mid  tlic  as- 
surance of  hope." 

Uj)on  a  review  of  the  Scriptnri's,  to  see 
what  foundation  there  was  for  this  remark, 
I  gathered  the  following : 

1.  In  regard  to  faith.  "  Being  justified 
by  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  Rom.  v.  1  ;  "  Ail 
joy  and  peace  in  believing,"  Rom.  xv.  13  ; 
and  not  by  what  Paliemon  styles  assurance 
of  hope,  gathered  from  a  discovery  of  our 
faith,  love,  and  self-denied  obedience. 

The  language  of  faith  is  not  barely  con- 
cerning others,  the  elect,  &c.  ;  "  Rut  we 
believe,  that  through  the  grace  of  our  Loid 
Jesus  Christ  we  shall  be  saved,"  Acts  xv. 
11. 

Faith  is  described,  Heb.  xi.  2.5,  26,  to  be 
so  far  the  assurance  of  eternal  life  by  Christ, 
as  to  be,  on  that  very  account,  "  the  victory 
that  overcomes  the  world." 

They  that  died  in  faith,  "  not  having  re- 
ceived the  promises,  but  having  seen  them 
afar  off,  and  were  persuaded  of  and  embraced 
them,  and  (therefore)  confessed  they  were 
strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the  earth,"  Heb. 
xi.  23, — did  they  not  appropriate  these 
promises  ?  or  did  they  only  consider  them 
as  belonging  to  the  elect,  and  themselves 
uncertain  whether  they  were  of  the  number, 
till  they  could  discover  it  by  the  discovery  of 
their  faith,  love,  and  self-denied  obedience  ? 

The  assurance  of  faith  proceeds  upon 
"  having  boldness  to  enter  into  the  holiest 
by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  by  a  way  consecrated 
for  us,  and  having  a  High-priest  over  the 
house  of  God."  Heb.  x.  19,  22.  And  can 
all  this  be  in  a  fixed  uncertainty,  or  without 
appropriation  ?  Can  I  draw  near,  as  having 
a  way  consecrated,  or  as  having  a  High- 
priest  over  the  house  of  God  ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  do  not  know  whether  I  have  or 
no? 

If  we  are  condemned  for  asking  doubting- 
ly,  James  i.  6,  7,  and  for  little  faith  in  Pro- 
vidence, Matth.  vi.  30,  does  not  the  oppo- 
site character  imply  a  certainty  of  divine 
favour  and  regard  by  sovereign  grace,  inde- 
pendent of  a  discovery  of  our  previous  obe- 
dience ? 

Rom.  xiv.  23.  "  Whatsoever  is  not  of 
faith,"  i,  e.  whatsoever  action  is  not  of  con- 
fidence of  acceptance  with  God,  "  is  sin." 
Dots  not  this  Scripture  make  confidence 
essential  to  faith  ? 

Rom.  iv.  5.  "  To  him  that  worketh  not, 
but  believeth  on  him  that  justilieth  the  un- 
godly," &c.  Is  not  this  inconsistent  with 
waiting  to  be  godly,  before  I  dare  put  my 
trust  in  him  ? 

We  cannot  "  call  on  him  in  whom  we 
have  not  believed,"  Rom.  x.  14;  that  is, 
we  cannot  "call  in  faith,  nothing  doubting," 
as  above,  James  i.  6. 

It  is  the  divine  commandment  to  "  be- 


ENCE  OF 

licve  in  his  name,"  I  John  iii.  23 ;  and  it  is 
the  stroigth  of  "faith  against  hope,"  of 
what  we  see  or  feel,  "  to  believe  in  hope" 
of  what  God  hath  freely  given  and  pro- 
mised. 

Eph.  iii.  12.  "In  whom  we  have  bold- 
ness and  access  with  confidence  by  the 
faith  of  him."  Can  this  be  where  there  is 
no  appropriation  ? 

Gal.  v.  5.  "  We  through  the  Spirit  wait 
for  the  hope  of  righteousness  by  faith." 
Can  this  be  said  in  an  uncertainty?  or  in  a 
conditional  certainty  denending  on  our  per- 
formance ? 

Can  the  dead  live  by  "  believing  on 
him,"  according  to  John  xi.  23,  if  they  are 
to  wait  till  they  feel  life  first  ? 

2.  In  regard  to  hope.  We  are  told,  that 
not  our  performances,  but  God's  promise 
and  oath,  are  the  "  strong  consolation  of 
them  who  have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold 
of  the  hope  set  before  them ;  which  hope 
we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the  soul,  both  sitre 
and  steadfast,  and  which  entereth  into  that 
within  the  vail."  Heb.  vi.  18,  19. 

We  are  told  to  "  hold  fast  the  beginning 
of  our  confidence,  the  confidence  and  re- 
joicing of  the  hope,  firm  unto  the  end." 
Heb.  iii.  6. 

As  we  "  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  be- 
lieved," so  we  are  said  to  "  hope  for  that 
we  see  not,  and  patiently  wait  for  it."  Rom. 
viii.  25.  "  We  are  saved  through  faith." 
Eph.  ii.  8.  "  We  are  saved  by  hope." 
Rom.  viii.  23.  We  are  said  to  "  purify  our- 
selves by  this  hope."  1  John  iii.  3 ;  to  have 
our  "  hearts  purified  by  faith,"  Acts  xv.  9  ; 
to  "purify  our  souls  in  obeying  the  truth 
through  the  Spirit,  unto  the  unfeigned  love 
of  the  brethren."  I  Peter  i.  22.  We  are 
said  to  be  all  "  the  children  of  God  by  faith 
in  Jesus  Christ,"  Gal.  iii.  29  ;  to  be  «  be- 
gotten again  to  a  lively  hope,"  not  through 
a  discovery  of  our  obedience,  but  "  by  the 
resurrection  of  Christ  from  the  dead."  1 
Pet.  i.  3.  And  "  the  God  of  hope  fills  us 
with  all  joy  and  peace  in  believing."  Rom. 
xv.  1.3.  "  And  being  justified  by  faith,  we 
rejoice  in  the  hope  of  the  glory  of  God." 
Rom.  v.  2. 

When  we  are  exhorted,  1  Pet.  iii.  15,  to 
"  be  ready  always  to  give  an  answer  to  every 
man  that  asketh  us  a  reason  of  the  hope 
that  is  in  us,"  I  apprehend  onr  faith,  or  that 
truth  we  believe,  is  that  reason,  and  not 
our  own  righteousness  or  qualifications. 
Upon  this  review  of  these  Scriptures,  it 
appears  to  me,  that  Palsemon's  refinement 
upon  the  Scripture  phrases,  to  the  exclud- 
ing appropriation  or  certainty  of  salvation 
from  faith,  and  ascribing  it  wholly  to  a  dis- 
covery of  our  inherent  qualifications,  under 
the  name  of  assurance  of  hope,  is  not  so 
scripturally  founded  as  he  has  imagined. 

"  The  assurance  of  hope  is  enjoyed  only 


THERON  AND  ASPASIG. 


606 


l)y  those  who  give  all  diligence  to  obtain 
it." 

That  they  are  exhorted  to  show  "  the 
same  dilij^ence  to  the  full  assurance  of  hope 
unto  the  end,"  is  true.  We  are  also  to 
"  hold  fast  the  bef.'inning  of  our  confidence 
steadfast  unto  the  cud." 

'•  The  first  of  these  (the  assurance  of 
failh)  was  called  for  in  a  man's  first  pro- 
fession of  the  faith,  upon  his  first  hearing 
the  gospel,  in  order  to  his  being  acknow- 
ledged for  a  Christian." 

Hope  is  also  called  the  "  hope  of  our 
calling  by  the  gospel,"  Eph.  i.  18,  not  the 
hope  of  our  obedience,  or  hope  arising  from 
our  qualifications.  And  upon  a  man's  first 
hearing  the  gosiiel,  when  he  was  first  be- 
gotten again  by  the  word  of  truth,  he  is  said 
to  be  "  begotten  again  unto  a  lively  hope, 
by  the  resurrection  of  Christ  from  the 
dead."  1  Pet.  i.  3.  Christ  is  said  to  "dwell 
in  our  hearts  by  faith,"  Eph.  iii.  17,  and 
Col.  i.  27,  as  our  "  hope  of  glory."  And 
if  he  is  not  thus  in  us,  we  are  said  to  be 
not  young  professors,  or  young  Christians, 
but  reprobates. 

"  The  assurance  of  faith  is  likewise  ne- 
cessary to  the  drawing  near  to  God  in  his 
worship." 

We  are  likewise  said  to  "  draw  near  to 
God  by  the  better  hope,"  Heb-  vii.  19, 
"  which  hope  we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the 
soul,  both  sure  and  steadfast." 

"  The  assurance  of  hope,  again,  is  an  en- 
cyment  proposed  to  them  who  believed." 

A  steadfast  continuance,  full  assurance, 
and  increase  in  the  faith,  is  proposed  to 
them  also. 

"  The  assurance  of  hope,  then,  holds 
pace,  first  and  last,  with  the  work  and  la- 
bour of  love." 

The  apostolic  hope  held  pace,  first  and 
last,  with  the  apostolic  faith  ;  and  love  or 
charity  followed  both.  The  apostles  do  not 
teach  the  order  to  be  faith,  love,  and  hope, 
beca<ise  I  love  ;  but  faith,  in  the  revealed 
righteousness,  is  the  spring  of  hope  ;  and 
love  fiowing  from  both.  "  Now  abideth 
faith,  hope,  and  charity  ;  these  three"  as 
the  root,  and  not  the  fruit  of  our  obedience. 

"  There  was  no  Christian,  however  emi- 
nent, in  the  days  of  the  apostles,  but  needed 
the  exhortation  to  give  all  diligence  for 
maintaining  and  confirming  the  assurance  of 
hope." 

Nor  was  any  Christian  so  far  advanced, 
but  he  might  be  exhorted  to  be  "  strong  in 
the  grace  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  and 
continue  in  the  faith  grounded  and  settled." 
*■  "  They  often  called  on  men  to  examine 
themselves." 

They  declared  remission  of  sin  immedi- 
ately in  Christ's  name,  as  the  truth  where- 
l)y  we  pass  "  from  death  to  life."  They 
did  not  teach  jieoplc  to  find   remission  ol 


sin  by  the  way  of  their  inherent  dispositions 
or  works  ;  but  when  the  apostle  Paul  was 
called  upon  for  a  proof  of  Christ  speaking 
in  him,  he  bid  the  Corinthians  examine 
themselves  for  that  proof;  for  if  they  had 
not  received  Christ,  they  were  reprobates; 
and  if  they  had,  they  were  his  epistle  of 
commendation,  agreeable  to  what  he  had 
said,  chap,  iii — xiii.  5. 

"  No  man,  then,  can  be  charged  with  the 
sin  of  disbelieving  the  gospel,  for  doubting 
if  he  be  a  good  Christian." 

But  he  may,  for  doubting  whether  Christ 
is  given  to  him  in  the  divine  declarations  to 
sinners  ;  or,  whether  he  may  trust  to  those 
declarations ;  or,  for  doubting  whether  he 
may  venture  his  eternal  concerns  upon  Je- 
sus Christ  alone,  without  and  before  any 
discovery  of  his  excellency  above  other 
men. 

"  Yea,  we  find  the  apostles  ready  to  quash 
the  confidence  of  those  who  were  ready  to 
conclude  their  state  was  changed,  by  such 
awful  sentences  as  this  :  '  He  that  saith,  I 
know  him,  and  keepeth  not  his  command- 
ments, is  a  liar,  and  the  truth  is  not  in 
him.'  " 

They  who  professed  the  faith  and  hope 
of  Christians,  and  were  evidently  not  in- 
fluenced by  the  Christian  love  to  observe 
the  commandments  of  him  in  whom  they 
professed  to  i)elieve,  were  undoubtedly  the 
subjects  of  this  censure  ;  which  may  well 
be  admitted,  without  any  contradiction  to 
the  hope  of  a  guilty  sinner  by  Christ  alone. 

"  The  apostles  frequently  declare  their 
assurance  of  laith  and  hope  in  the  same 
passage.  While  they  express  their  faith  in 
Christ,  they  are  at  the  same  time  confident 
of  their  interest  in  him." 

This  proves,  that  either  the  apostle's 
Christian  ho|)e  stood  in  a  nearer  connexion 
with  their  faith,  and'sprung  more  immedi- 
ately from  their  doctrine  than  Paliomon  will 
admit  of;  or  else,  that  he  is  more  accurate 
than  they  in  describing  it. 

"  This  joint  assurance  they  sometimes 
express  in  fellowship  with  all  that  follow 
their  footsteps,  and  often  in  language  plainly 
distinguishing  the  apostles  themselves  from 
other  i)rofessors  of  the  faith." 

The  i  .lohn  v.  11,  is  not  of  this  sort  : 
"  This  is  the  record  which  he  that  believeth 
hath  in  himself;  he  that  believeth  it  not 
maketh  (iod  a  liar,  beciusehe  believeth  not 
the  record  which  he  gave  of  his  Son."  And 
t:/us  is  the  record  that  God  hath  given,  not 
to  us  apostles,  exclusive  of  others  :  not  to 
us  who  can  say,  "  God,  I  thank  thee  I  am 
not  as  other  men  ;"  but  tons,  guilty  sinners, 
lost,  &c- ;  to  us,  as  numbered  with  them 
who,  in  not  believing  it,  make  God  a  liar. 
"  God  hath  given  to  us  eternal  life,  and 
this  life  is  in  his  Son  :"  so  given  him,  that 
"he  that  hath   the  Son  halh  life,  and  he 


606 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


that  hath  not  the  Son  of  God  hath  not 
life  ;"  it  being  only  to  be  received,  posess- 
ed,  or  enjoyed,  in  receiving,  possessing,  and 
enjoying  of  him. 

"  The  same  Spirit,  acting  as  the  Com- 
forter, is  given  only  to  those  who  are  al- 
ready the  friends  of  Christ.  To  this  pur- 
pose Paul  says,  Gal.  iv.  6,  '  And  because 
ye  are  sons,  God  hath  sent  forth  the  Spirit 
of  his  Son  into  your  hearts,  crying,  Abba, 
Father.'  " 

That  is,  and  because  ye,  while  enemies, 
have  received,  through  the  gospel,  "  the 
adoption  of  children  by  Jesus  Christ."  Eph. 
i.  5.  Because,  also,  according  to  the  ful- 
ness of  time,  ye  are  sons,  the  church  being 
come  out  of  her  non-age.  As  a  proof  of 
this  it  is  evident,  God  hath  not  given  you 
"  the  spirit  of  bondage  again  to  fear,  but  he 
hath  sent  forth  the  Spirit  of  his  Son  into 
your  hearts,"  whereby  ye  obtain  such  a  dis- 
covery of  salvation  to  the  guilty,  as  enables 
you  to  cry  "  Abba,  Father," 

"  The  Holy  Spirit  then  acts  a  twofold 
part,  as  he  breathes  in  the  gospel.  He  re- 
conciles enemies,  and  he  comforts  friends." 

He  reconciles  and  comforts  enemies  in 
the  same  instant,  and  by  the  same  truth  ;  so 
the  distinction  is  not  properly  founded. 
Besides,  the  consolation  we  have  by  Christ 
to  the  end,  is  of  the  same  nature  with  the 
beginning — the  grace  that  is  manifest  in 
Christ  Jesus  to  the  guilty.  Not  but  that 
we  have  also  the  additional  consolation  of 
those  sayings  which  relate  to  our  witnessing 
and  suffering  for  the  truth. 

"  What,  then,  shall  we  say  of  those  pre- 
tenders to  the  apostolic  consolation,  whose 
very  profession  of  Christianity,  instead  of 
being  any  loss  to  them,  spreads  their  repu- 
tation for  piety,  and  procures  them  esteem 
and  reverence  from  the  world  ?" 

We  will  say,  their  consolation  is  not 
apostolic,  that  the  offence  of  the  cross  has 
ceased  with  them,  or  that  they  are  of  the 
world.  But  it  is  very  plain  Aspasio's  ap- 
propriation, or  that  trust  wherein  he  is  com- 
forted, has  not  had  this  effect,  however  he 
may  have  been  honoured  on  other  accounts. 

"  In  latter  times,  not  a  few  have,  from  the 
hand  of  church  authority,  supported  by  se- 
cular power,  endured  the  same  suffeiings 
which  the  apostles  met  with  from  the  Jews 
and  Romans,  and  accordingly  enjoyed  .the 
same  consolation.  It  was  very  natural  for 
such  of  them  as  were  writers  to  commend 
the  faith  which  thus  wrought  by  love." 

They  suffered  as  maintaining  the  certain- 
ty of  salvation  by  Christ  alone,  and  did  not 
ground  their  certainty  upon  their  sufferings, 
although  they  were  far  from  being  discourag- 
ed thereby,  but  endured  them  with  addition- 
al consolation.  Their  assurance  gave  the  of- 
fence, and  caused  their  sufferings. 

"  Shall    we    say    that   these    friends    of 


Christ  would  have  approved  of  that  assur- 
ance  of  an  interest  in  him,  which  men  now 
pretend  to  acquire  by  some  heart  work,  in 
a  full  consistency  with  their  worldly  ease 
and  reputation?" 

Nor  does  Aspasio  plead  for  such  an  as- 
surance :  what  he  pleads  for  is  founded  only 
upon  the  divine  declarations  to  guilty  sin- 
ners ;  and  is  far  from  having  the  approba- 
tion of  the  devout  and  honourable  of  the 
world,  however  they  may  profess  to  esteem 
his  writings  on  account  of  the  elegancy  of 
the  style,  or  some  particulars  foreign  to  his 
main  intention  in  them. 

"  The  modern  assurance  proceeds  on  the 
principle,  that  the  simple  truth  believed  af- 
fords no  joy  nor  comfort." 

This  cannot  be  our  case,  who  plead  for 
the  joy  and  comfort  of  the  sufficient  right- 
eousness, as  given  freely  to  the  guilty  in 
those  evangelical  declarations. 

"  Will  the  news  of  a  plentiful  importa- 
tion of  corn,  in  the  time  of  famine,  give  joy 
to  many  ready  to  perish,  and  revTve  even 
the  poorest  with  the  hope  that  they  may  be 
fed?" 

Will  the  joy  and  comfort  of  this  news  be 
set  aside  by  understanding,  that  the  corn  is 
freely  given  for  us  to  live  upon  without  mo- 
ney or  price  ?  Will  not  this  rather  enhance 
the  joy  ?  Does  not  the  poorest  receive  com- 
fort from  such  tidings,  because  they  expect 
either  to  be  able  to  buy  some,  or  to  have 
some  given  them  ? 

"  Yet  no  man  knows  certainly  but  his 
present  day  may  be  his  last." 

But  the  joy  created  by  the  news  above- 
mentioned  proceeds  on  a  contrary  supposi- 
tion, viz.  That  he  shall  live,  and  be  sustain- 
ed by  it.  Besides,  the  bread  of  life  con- 
cerns a  day  that  will  never  have  an  end ; 
therefore  this  uncertainty  is  foreign  to  the 
purpose. 

"  And  however  diffident  the  convert  (that 
is,  the  convert  of  Aspasio's  stamp)  be,  he 
is  still  supposed  to  be  possessed  of  some 
degree  of  assurance,  provided  he  blame  him- 
self for  the  want  of  it." 

He  is  supposed  to  live  by  Christ  alone, 
as  his  sufficient  righteousness,  who  con- 
demns every  word,  work,  or  thought  to  the 
contrary,  or  who  fights  this  fight  of  faith 
against  all  oppositions  and  trials,  inward  or 
outward.  But  though  we  may  make  such 
an  allowance,  this  is  not  our  point.  The 
question  is  not  so  much  about  whether  I  be- 
lieve ;  let  that  make  itself  evident ;  the 
proper  question  to  be  always  considered 
and  rested  in,  is  this,  Does  God  give  to 
guilty  me  eternal  life  in  his  Son  ?  Is  this 
the  spring  of  my  hope,  and  the  source  of 
my  love  and  obedience  ?  Do  I  live  not  by 
my  notion  that  I  am  a  believer,  but  do  I 
live  by  this  ? 

"  ''''-ey  (the  d-'vils)  believe,  fheyhate,  and 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


607 


)'rtthey  tremble  at  that  truth  which  Christ's 
people  believe,  love,  and  find  salvation  in. 
With  them  are  ranked  all  those  of  man- 
kind who  know  as  much  of  the  truth  as  in- 
clines them  to  hate  and  pervert  it." 

Yet  it  cannot  be  said  of  the  devils,  they 
have  the  same  confidence.  It  cannot  be 
said  of  the  devils,  that  they  receive  or  ap- 
propriate the  divine  righteousness  as  freely 
given  to  them,  or  that  they  see  any  founda- 
tion for  it. 

"  In  this  view,  the  same  truth  is  the  sa- 
vour of  life  unto  life  unto  some,  and  of  death 
unto  death  unto  others.  In  this  view,  the 
same  truth  is  the  object  of  contempt  and 
chagrin  to  some,  and  of  love  and  joy  to 
others." 

True,  it  is  so  ;  but  not  by  both  believing 
it  alike  for  themselves. 

Letter  VI "  We  are  now,  then,  to 

consider  faith  as  a  principle  of  life  and  ac- 
tion." 

PaliEmon  is  here  obliged  to  admit  of  a 
different  consideration  of  faith.  If  he  con- 
sidered it  in  justification  as  a  principle  of 
life  and  action,  he  would  have  been  in- 
volved in  the  mistakes  he  has  been  oppos- 
ing. If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  denied  faith 
to  be  a  principle  of  life  and  action,  he  would 
overthrow  the  principle  of  the  Christian  obe- 
dience he  pleads  for.  Now,  since  he  is  thus 
obliged  to  take  up  this  distinction  for  himself, 
why  should  he  not  allow  it  to  Aspasio?  Why 
should  he  not  allow  that  appropriation,  al- 
though it  is  an  act  or  work  exerted  by  the 
human  mind,  in  consequence  of  the  belief 
of  the  gospel,  and  as  a  principle  of  all  other 
Christian  obedience  ?  Yet  we  are  not  justi- 
fied by  our  appropriating  persuasion,  but  by 
the  righteousness  we  appropriate ;  even  as 
Palaemon  says,  we  are  justified  by  what  we 
believe,  and  not  by  faith,  as  a  principle  of 
life  and  action. 

"  And  here  we  must  carefully  distinguish 
betwixt  all  works  by  which  men  would  pre- 
tend to  acquire  faith,  and  those  which  faith 
j)roduces  ;  for,  if  we  will  contend  that  jus- 
tification comes  by  faith  without  works,  and 
that  there  is  no  acceptable  working  but  what 
follows  upon  this,  and  yet  maintain  that 
faith  is  acquired  by  works,  we  undoubtedly 
reason  in  a  circle.  And  however  seriously 
and  devoutly  we  may  be  occupied  in  this 
kind  of  reasoning,  it  is  evident  we  are  em- 
ployed in  nothing  else  but  solemn  trick  and 
dissimulation  ;  unless  it  may  be  pled  in  our 
behalf,  that  we  are  im|)osing  on  ourselves  by 
the  same  means  by  which  we  impose  upon 
others. 

"  Men  are  justified  by  the  knowledge  of 
a  righteousness  finished  in  the  days  of  Ti- 
berius ;  and  this  knowledge  operates  upon 
tlu'in,  and  leads  them  to  work  righteous- 
tu>s.     '  If  ye  know,'  says  the  apostle  John, 


'  that  he  is  righteous,  ye  know  that  every 
one  that  doth  righteousness  is  born  of  him.' 
Faith  is  not  acquired,  but  is  obtained,  as 
Peter  says,  {toi;  Xa.x,>iri),  '  To  them  who 
have  obtained  by  lot  like  precious  faith  with 
us.'  Of  two  criminals  justly  condemned  to 
die,  if  one  escapes  by  a  favourable  throw  of 
the  dice,  and  tlie  other  dies  for  his  crime, 
we  see  mercy  in  the  deliverance  of  the 
former,  and  no  injustice  in  the  death  of  the 
latter.  Two  men  may  be  employed  with 
equal  diligence  in  studying  the  Scripture, 
and  with  equal  seriousness  in  praying  for 
divine  assistance;  the  one  may  come  tc 
know  the  truth,  and  the  other  may  grope  in 
the  dark  all  his  lifetime.  He  who  comes 
to  know  it,  plainly  perceives  that  he  has 
found  what  he  was  not  seeking  after  ;  he 
plainly  sees  that  his  most  serious  devotion 
was  pointed  in  direct  opposition  to  what 
now  comforts  him." 

Nevertheless,  the  truth  being  declared, 
they  may,  like  the  noble  Bereans,  search  the 
Scriptures,  "whether  these  things  are  so." 

"  Thus  the  word  of  life  is  held  forth  in 
the  world — serving  as  a  mean  of  divine  ap- 
pointment to  lead  some  to  the  faith,  and 
render  others  inexcusable." 

This  is  a  proper  reply  to  Palaemon's  own 
objection  :  "  That  the  grant  of  the  gi)s|)el 
IS  a  gift  of  benefits  to  multitudes  who  are 
never  benefited  thereby.  It  serves  as  a 
means  of  divine  appointment  to  lead  soire 
to  faith,  and  leave  others  inexcusable." 

"  The  change  made  upon  a  man  l)y  the 
belief  of  the  gospel,  may  be  thus  illustiated  : 
VA'hen  Lazarus  was  revived  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  this  mortal  life,  neither  his  will  nor 
his  power  were  concerned  in  the  obtaining 
of  life.  Yet  his  life  could  no  otherwise  be 
continued  and  enjoyed,  but  in  his  voluntary 
exercise  of  it.  As  soon  as  he  revived,  the 
principle  of  self-preservation,  with  all  its 
hopes  and  fears,  behoved  immediately  to  be 
set  in  motion.  No  sooner  was  he  possess- 
ed of  life,  than  the  active  love  of  it  behoved 
to  take  place.  Accordingly,  no  sooner  does 
a  man  begin  to  know  the  grace  of  God  in 
truth,  than  love  to  it  takes  place  in  his  heart. 
Love  is  the  activity  of  that  life  which  a  man 
obtains  by  faith  ;  for  faith  worketh  by  love." 

But  what  is  all  this  to  the  doctrine  of 
working  in  painful  desire  and  fear,  till  we 
come  to  the  enjoyment  of  life,  or  the  know- 
ledge that  we  have  life-  Lazarus  had  no 
principle  of  self-preservation  before  he  was 
conscious  that  he  had  a  self  to  preserve  ;  nor 
had  he  any  love  of  life  before  he  enjoyed  it. 
In  like  manner,  we  can  have  no  love  to  that 
grace  of  God  we  know  not,  nor  desire  to 
preserve  that  life  we  never  enjoyed. 

"  If  a  man  of  low  condition  is  by  a  royal 
patent  ennobled,  and  entitled  to  a  place  in 
the  politest  assemblies,  he  cannot  enjoy  the 
pleasmes  of  his  promotion   but  in  as  far  as 


608  A  DEFENCE  OF 

hii  loves  and  studies   to   learn  the  manners 
suitable  to  his  rank  and  rompany 


And  his  motive  to  this  improvement  of 
these  manners  is,  that  he  is  promoted  to  a 
station  he  desires  to  enjoy  more  perfectly. 
So  we,  being  called  to  the  adoption  of  chil- 
dren by  Jesus  Christ,  toil  no  more  in  the 
way  of  painful  desire  and  fear  to  attain  to 
a  consciousness  of  the  privilege,  but  as  par- 
takers of  it  are  influenced  thereby. 

"  The  apostle  John,  speaking  of  obedi- 
ence to  the  new  commandment  of  love, 
says,  '  Beloved,  if  our  hearts  condemn  us 
not,  then  have  we  confidence  towards  God  ;' 
that  is,  if,  notwithstanding  our  natural  bias 
against  the  gospel,  with  its  remaining  effects, 
giving  us  daily  disquiet,  our  heart  condemn 
us  not  as  destitute  of  love  to  that  truth 
which  the  world  hates,  then  we  have  confi- 
dence towards  God ;  even  as  much  confi- 
dence as  the  testimony  of  our  own  con- 
science can  give  us." 

This  is  plainly  not  the  confidence  which 
the  truth  itself  affords  a  guilty  sinner,  but 
confidence  "  that  we  are  not  destitute  of 
love  to  that  truth  the  world  hates."  The 
former  is  our  life,  the  latter  is  only  an  addi- 
tional corroborating  comfort. 

"  Yet  this  is  but  one  witness,  and  needs 
to  be  supported ;  for  in  this  case  one  may 
be  liable  to  doubts,  lest  even  his  own  con- 
sciiMice  should  be  partial  in  his  favour." 

If  we  have  confidence  in  Christ  by  the 
truth  itself  as  we  are  guilty  sinners  ;  if  lam 
conscious  that  the  truth,  or,  which  is  the 
same  thing,  my  faith,  and  confidence  in  it, 
works  by  love ;  if  our  hearts  condemn  us 
not  in  this  matter,  then  have  we  confidence 
towards  God :  First,  because  we  are  con- 
scious we  proceed  on  divine  authority  :  Se- 
condly,  we  prove  the  blessed  effect  of  the 
truth.  These,  then,  are  two  witnesses  inse- 
parably united.  The  first  a  divine  truth, 
the  testimony  of  the  divine  Spirit,  than 
which  there  cannot  be  a  greater  ground  of 
certainty  :  the  latter  is  the  consciousness  of 
the  effect  of  that  truth. 

"  Here,  then,  the  Spirit  .of  truth,  who 
never  fails  to  bear  witness  to  the  genuine 
effects  thereof,  gives  his  testimony  as  a  se- 
cond witness  supporting  the  former.  Thus 
Paul,  after  he  had  said,  '  As  many  as  are 
Jed  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  they  are  the  sons 
of  God,'  adds,  '  the  Spirft  itself  beareth 
witness  with  our  spirit,  that  we  are  the  chil- 
dren of  God.' " 

The  apostle  Paul,  after  he  had  said, 
"  As  many  as  are  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God, 
they  are  the  sons  of  God,"  adds,  "  For  ye 
have  not  received  the  spirit  of  bondage  again 
to  fear ;  but  ye  have  received  {i.  e.  by  llic 
gospel  truth)  the  spirit  of  adoption,  whereby 
we  cry  Abba,  Father."  And  then  follow 
the  words,  "  The  Spirit  itself  (which  ye  re- 
ceived in  the  hearing   of  the  gospel,  imbol- 


detiing  us  guilty  smners  to  cry  ••  Al»l>a,  ra- 
tiier,"  through  the  divine  righteousness  free- 
ly given  to  us  :  this  Spirit  received  in  the 
gospel)  beareth  witness  with  our  spirit  that 
we  are  the  children  of  God,"  and  not  of  them 
who  deceive  themselves  with  vain  thoughts. 
It  is  already  granted,  that  "  the  Sj)irit  of 
truth  never  speaks  one  word  or  sentence  to 
any  person  beyond  what  is  written  in  the 
Scripture."  And  what  is  written  in  the 
Scripture,  is  either  the  declarations  of  free 
salvation  to  sinners  in  Jesus  Christ,  or  di- 
vine assurances  of  no  disappointment  to 
them  that  believe  on  Christ,  or  an  accoimt 
of  the  genuine  effects  of  faith.  In  the  first 
we  are  taught  to  apply  what  is  said  to  our- 
selves as  sinners  ;  In  the  second,  we  are 
encouraged  to  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  in  assurance  of  salvation  by  him, 
without  disappointment :  In  the  last,  we 
are  informed  of  the  genuine  effects  of  this 
truth,  or  faith,  corresponding  to  what  we 
find  and  feel  to  be  true,  when  we  believe 
according  to  that  which  is  written. 

"  And  this  he  («.  e.  the  Spirit)  does,  by 
shedding  abroad  in  the  heart  such  an  abun- 
dant sense  of  the  divine  love,  as  leaves  no 
room  for,  so  casts  out,  the  anxious  fear  of 
coming  short  of  life  everlasting." 

The  love  shed  abroad  in  the  heart,  is 
that  manifested  in  Christ  dying  for  the  un- 
godly when  enemies,  and  without  strength  ; 
not  love  manifested  to  the  qualified  :  for 
"  if  when  we  were  enemies  we  were  recon- 
ciled to  God  by  the  death  of  his  Son, 
(given  freely  unto  us,)  much  more  being  re- 
conciled," as  is  apparent  to  us  in  what  we 
believe,  and  in  its  genuine  effects,  we  have 
a  hope  (that  maketh  not  ashamed)  that 
"  we  shall  be  saved  by  his  life  ;"  that  he  who 
gave  us  righteousness  while  enemies,  will 
save  us  for  ever  who  are  thus  reconciled  to 
him. 

"  Thus  that  love  to  the  truth,  which  for- 
merly wrought  in  a  way  of  painfid  desire, 
attended  with  many  fears,  is  perfected  by 
being  crowned  with  the  highest  enjoyment 
it  is  capable  of  in  this  mortal  state." 

I  do  not  read  m  the  Scripture  of  any  love 
to  the  truth  of  the  gospel  so  described. 
"  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God, 
(and  he  crowned  us  with  enjoyment,)  bnt 
that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his  Son,  his  only 
begotten  Son,  into  the  world,  that  we  might 
live  through  him  ;"  sent  his  Son  "  to  be  a 
propitiation  for  our  sins.  If  we  w  ho  are 
of  this  truth  love  one  another,  his  love  is 
already  perfected  in  us  ;  and  we  have  known 
and  believed  the  love  that  God  hath  to  us. 
Herein  is  our  love  made  perfect.  He  that 
leareth,"  and  is  not  imboldened  by  the  truth 
to  venture  his  everlasting  concerns  ujion 
C^hrist  Jesus  alone,  "  is  not  made  perfect 
in  love.  We  love  him  because  he  first 
loved  us,  piu-ifying  our  souls  by  obtsying  the 


J 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


G09 


truth  through  the  Spirit  unto  the  unfeigned 
love  of  the  hrethren,"  as  its  proper  and  ge- 
nuine effect. 

"  Jesus  Christ,  who  loved  his  Father 
with  a  perfect  heart,  even  while  sorrowful 
unto  death,  received  the  highest  proof  of 
his  being  the  beloved  Son  of  God,  when, 
being  exalted  at  the  Father's  right  hand, 
and  being  made  most  blessed  with  a  sense 
of  his  love,  he  experienced  fulness  of  joy  in 
his  presence." 

But  he  knew  he  was  the  Son  of  God 
before  he  had  this  highest  proof:  he,  though 
sorrowful  unto  death,  had  none  of  the  anxi- 
ous fear  of  coming  short  of  his  glory,  but 
was  animated  by  that  glory.  "  For  the  joy 
that  was  set  before  him,  he  endured  the 
cross,  despising  the  shame."  He  received 
the  word  in  its  accomplishment,  as  the 
highest  confirmation  of  the  veracity  of  what 
his  Father  had  spoken.  But  surely  he 
shewed  himself  entirely  satisfied  with  the 
bare  testimony,  when  he  answered  the 
tempter,  "  Man  shall  not  live  by  bread 
alone,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth 
Out  of  the  mouth  of  God." 

"  The  report  of  this  draws  them  who  be- 
lieve it  to  love  him,  and  suffer  for  his  sake. 
To  such,  Jesus  Christ  promised  fellowship 
with  him  in  the  fulness  of  joy." 

That  fulness  of  joy  must  be  in  the  life  to 
come,  according  to  Psalm  xvi.  II.  Yov  in 
this  life  we  walk  by  faith  and  not  by  sight ; 
and  hope  which  is  seen  is  not  hope.  And 
it  is  also  acknowledged,  that  Jesus  himself 
did  not  enter  into  this  joy  till  he  ceased 
from  this  world. 

John  XV.  10,  11.  "  If  ye  keep  my  com- 
mandments, ye  shall  abide  in  my  love,  even 
as  I  have  kejjt  my  Father's  commandments, 
and  abide  in  his  love.  These  things  have  I 
spoken  unto  you,  that  my  joy  might  remain 
in  you,  and  that  your  joy  might  be  full." 

The  commandments  here  spoken  of  are, 
to  believe,  and  love,  for  the  truth's  sake. 
The  love  and  joy  is  that  which  is  manifested 
by  the  word  in  this  life,  and  which  neither 
"  life,  nor  death,  nor  angels,  nor  principali- 
ties, nor  powers,"  nor  any  kind  of  suffering  or 
affliction,  shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from. 
Nevertheless,  we  yet  but  hojje  for  the  ful- 
ness of  joy  that  Jesus  is  now  arrived  at, 
with  "  hojJC  that  niaketh  not  ashamed,"  but 
animates  us  to  be  followers  of  Jesus,  "  en- 
during the  cross,  despising  the  shame." 

"  When  the  saving  truth  first  shines  in 
the  hearts  of  men,  the  effect  is  suitable  to 
the  divine  proiriise,  Jer.  xxxii.  40.  '  I  will 
put  my  fear  in  their  hearts,  that  they  shall 
not  depart  from  me.'  This  fear,  dwelling 
in  their  hearts,  checks  and  recalls  them  when 
ready  to  be  utterly  led  away  by  their  former 
evil  inclinations.  They  are  preserved  from 
failiniJ  away,  by  the  fear  of  falling  away." 
Tiiis  is   no  more   that  a   fear  of  caution, 


consistent  with  the  utmost  confidence  of  the 
sufficiency  of  Christ,  and  the  veracity  and 
faithfulness  of  God  ;  consistent  with  a  firm 
persuasion,  that  nothing  shall  "be  able  to 
separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  which  is 
in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord."  The  slavish 
fear  which  ariseth  from  uncertainty,  and  is 
seeking  after  a  differencing  something  to  re- 
move our  torment,  is  so  far  from  preserving 
us  from  falling,  that  it  is  rather  a  proof  we 
are  not  satisfied  with  the  sufficient  righte- 
ousness, with  the  sufficient  ground  of  faith 
and  hope,  and  have  at  present  no  part  or 
lot  in  the  matter. 

"  It  is  evident,  that  to  have  the  Holy 
Spirit  as  the  Comforter  and  earnest  of  the 
heavenly  inheritance,  is  an  attainment  far  be- 
yond any  influences  of  the  Spirit  that  are 
common  to  those  who  believe  for  a  time, 
and  those  who  believe  to  the  saving  of  the 
soul  ;  yea,  beyond  the  regenerating  work  of 
the  Spirit,  by  which  men  are  at  first  brought 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  taught  to 
love  it." 

"  To  find  by  experie7ice  (in  the  effects  of 
the  report  on  our  minds)  the  truth  of  what 
they  formerly  believed  on  testimony,"  (which 
is  what  Palaemon  declares  himself  to  mean,) 
is  certaiidy  an  attainment  of  another  kind 
than  the  joy  and  comfort  of  the  truth  itself. 
But  that  a  conscious  certainty,  that  "  I  de- 
pend on  the  promise  of  Christ,  and  run  all 
hazards  for  his  sake,"  is  what  the  Scriptura 
means  by  the  Comforter  and  earnest  of  the 
heavenly  inheritance,  does  not  so  evidently 
appear  :  because,  1.  This  is  not  taking  of 
things  of  Christ,  but  taking  of  our  things, 
and  shewing  them  to  us  :  2.  It  is  not  the 
Spirit's  bearing  witness  itself  with  our  spi- 
rits, but  bearing  witness  by  the  medium  of- 
our  obedience :  3.  It  would  be  speaking 
more  to  us  than  what  is  written  in  the 
Scripture  :  4.  This  consciousness,  and  the 
joy  accompanying  it,  was  an  attainment  of 
the  i)eople  of  God  before  the  resurrection  of 
Christ,  as  really  as  it  has  been  since : 
whereas  the  Comforter  promised  was  to  be 
the  consequence  of  Christ's  ascension  to  his 
Father,  and  was  first  performed  on  the  day 
of  Pentecost,  Acts  ii.  33 :  Lastly,  To  wait 
for  an  attainment  far  beyond  the  knowledge 
of  the  truth,  or  which  is  the  saine  thing,  of 
the  power  of  Christ's  resurrection,  serves,  in 
fact,  to  set  aside  that  resurrection  as  insuf- 
ficient, so  to  deny  the  one  thing  needful. 
More  especially,  as  according  to  Paliemon, 
"  It  (this  supposed  attainment)  must  be 
distinguished  from  any  joy  or  spiritual  de- 
light which  necessarily  attends  the  obtaining 
of  faith,  or  is  begimiing  to  work  by  love." 
And  "  that  it  is  vain  and  absurd  to  call  men 
to  be  assured  of  their  being  children  of  Go<i, 
when  they  are  not  enjoying  it.  That  it 
cannot  further  appear  that  any  mail  has 
kno\\n  the  grace  of  God  in  truth,  than  he 
2k 


610 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


gives  all  diligence  to  the  end,  in  order  to  ob- 
tain it."  Now  the  grand  arcanum  in  Palae- 
mon's  doctrine  is,  How  a  man  can  live  en- 
tirely by  the  one  thing  needful,  and  yet  be  so 
diligently  employed  in  labouring  for  so  im- 
portant a  something  more  ? 

"  It  is  also  plain,  that  the  promise  of  the 
Spirit,  as  the  Comforter,  is  common  to  all 
those  who  follow  the  faith  and  practice  of 
the  apostles." 

It  is  plain  they  were  comforted  by  the 
Spirit  of  God,  in  the  joy  of  the  truth  con- 
cerning Jesus  the  Saviour  of  sinners  ;  and 
had  also  the  additional  comfort  of  those 
confirming  declarations  concerning  the  chil- 
dren of  God  and  their  blessings,  which  are 
recorded  for  that  purpose.  But  that  we 
are  taught  to  wait  for  any  other  attainment, 
under  the  name  of  the  Spirit  as  the  Com- 
forter, does  not  appear. 

"  Their  (the  Jews)  appropriation  was 
the  great  spring  of  all  their  pride,  of  all  their 
disaffection  to  the  true  gospel,  and  all  their 
ruin." 

The  Jews'  appropriation  was  upon  the 
ground  of  the  difference  between  themselves 
and  others  ;  which  we  readily  agree  has  this 
effect,  That  the  more  men  excelled  in  this 
way,  they  proved  the  more  hardened  ene- 
mies to  the  true  God,  and  the  eternal  hap- 
piness of  mankind.  But  what  is  this 
for  an  objection  to  that  appropriation 
which  proceeds  entirely  on  the  free  grant  of 
heaven  to  the  guilty,  excluding  all  such  dif- 
ference ?  Aspasio  is  still  left  to  affirm  o£ 
his  appropriation.  That  nothing  will  be  so 
powerful  to  produce  holy  love  and  willing 
obedience,  to  exalt  our  desires,  and  enable 
us  to  overcome  the  world. 

Who  stands  nighest  to  the  Jewish  appro- 
priation, Aspasio  or  Palsemon  ?  Aspasio, 
who  in  Dialogue  16  compares  "those  who 
advise  us  to  prove  our  title  to  comfort  by 
genuine  marks  of  conversion,  and  teach  us 
on  this  column  to  fix  the  capital  of  assur- 
ance, unto  those  who  would  fix  the  dome 
of  a  cathedral  upon  the  stalk  of  a  tulip  ?" 
or  Paljemon,  who  judges  this  "  talking  pro- 
fanely ?"  Neither  do  I  see  how  this  is  talk- 
ing profanely,  until  it  is  first  proved,  that 
the  marks  whereby  we  [suppose  ourselves 
entitled  to  comfort  rather  than  others,  are 
the  Deity  in  which  we  are  to  put  our  trust. 
Aspasio  rightly  judges,  that  this  is  placing 
a  most  weighty  affair  upon  that  most  slight 
and  uncertain  foundation,  what  we  feel  or 
do,  instead  of  the  Rock  Christ,  given  to 
guilty  sinners.  Does  not  the  Holy  Ghost 
prove  a  Comforter,  by  manifesting  to  us 
guilty  sinners  "  the  things  that  are  freely 
given  of  God  ;  taking  of  the  things  of  Christ, 
and  shewing  them  to  us?"  And  must  not 
every  genuine  mark  of  conversion  have  its 
foundation  here  ? 

"  '  He  that  heareth  my  word,  and  believ- 


eth  on  him  that  sent  me,  hath  everlasting 
life,  and  shall  not  come  into  condemnation, 
but  is  passed  from  death  to  life.'  John  v.  24. 
Here  we  see  how  men  pass  from  death  to  life." 

The  word  that  Jesus  hath  spoken,  and 
the  declaration  the  Father  hath  made,  is  the 
first  and  surest  ground  of  undeceivable  cer- 
tainty. The  dependence  hereon  proceeds 
entirely  on  the  truth  and  faithfulness  of 
God  ;  and  that  dependence  is  the  assurance 
we  have  pleaded  for ;  and  they  who  thus 
depend,  our  Lord  declares,  have  everlasting 
life,  are  already  passed  from  death  to  life. 

"  Here  we  see  how  men  pass  from  death 
to  life.  John  declares  how  they  come  to 
know  this,  while  plainly  pointing  at  the 
words  of  Jesus,  he  says,  '  We  know  that 
we  are  passed  from  death  to  life,  because 
we  love  the  brethren.'  "  .    . 

There  is  no  foundation  for  the  distinction 
here  made  by  Piikemon,  viz.  "  That  our 
Lord  only  declares  how  men  pass  from 
death  to  life,"  and  John  "  only  declares 
how  they  come  to  know  this."  It  is  plain, 
that  our  Lord's  declaration  runs  in  the  same 
strain  with  that  of  his  disciple.  Our  Lord 
says.  He  that  heareth  my  word  "  is  passed 
from  death  unto  life."  John  says,  He  that 
loveth  the  brethren  "  is  passed  from  death 
unto  life."  Where  is  the  difference?  Both 
3re  declarations  of  who  are  passed  from 
death  to  life,  therefore  both  alike  in  that  re- 
spect. Our  Lord  intimates  the  life-giving 
word,  the  matter  believed  by  all  who  are 
passed  from  death  to  life  ;  his  disciple  inti- 
mates the  proper  and  genuine  effect  of  that 
word  on  all  who  believe.  "  VVe  know," 
says  John,  we  have  an  additional  proof,  that 
the  word  of  Jesus  is  true,  "  that  we  are 
passed  from  death  unto  life,  because  we 
love  the  brethren."  It  is  plain  that  they 
abide  still  in  death  who  abide  in  the  hating, 
murdering  spirit  of  the  world  ;  and  more 
especially,  who  cannot  love  them  who  are  of 
the  truth  for  the  truth's  sake.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  uniting,  life-giving  tendency  of  the 
truth  appears  to  ns,  who  are  of  it,  since  it 
causeth  us  thus  to  love  one  another  for  the 
truth's  sake ;  and  proves,  what  Jesus  said, 
that  "  he  that  heareth  his  word,  and  be- 
lieveth  on  him  that  sent  him,  is  passed  from 
death  to  life." 

Jesus  saith,  He  is  passed  from  death  to 
life  "  that  heareth  my  word,  and  believeth 
on  him  that  sent  me."  John  saith,  "  We 
know  he  has  passed  from  death  to  life  who 
loves  the  brethren."  The  only  difference 
is,  Jesus  declares  the  privilege  by  that 
whereby  we  enjoy  it ;  John  gives  proof  in 
the  love  of  the  brethren,  as  a  demonstrative 
effect  that  Jesus'  words  are  true. 
-  "  By  this  proof  men  come  to  know  that 
the  joy  they  had  upon  their  first  believing 
was  not  the  joy  of  the  hypocrite." 

The  joy  true  believers  have  on  their  first 


TIIERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


Gil 


believing,  is  the  joy  of  tlie  truth.  If  that 
we  rejoice  in  is  found  to  be  true,  our  joy  is 
proved  genuine. 

"  And  so  their  joy  is  made  full." 

Our  joy  is  not  made  full  by  a  discovery 
of  itself,  but  by  farther  confirmations  of  that 
truth  which  begat  and  supports  it.  The 
believer  gives  an  account  of  'his  faith  and 
joy,  when  he  gives  an  account  of  what  be 
believes  and  rejoices  in.  And  it  is  made 
full  by  a  farther  supply  or  confirmation  of 
the  truth  and  faithfulness  of  God,  on  which 
he  depends. 

"  By  this  they  come  to  know  it  was  the 
genuine  truth  of  God,  and  not  any  human 
counterfeit  and  corruption  of  it,  which  they 
at  first  believed." 

The  genuine  truth  of  God  makes  itself 
manifest  to  be  such  at  our  first  believing,  1 
Thess.  ii.  13,  1  John  i.  10,  and  ^thereby 
begets  faith,  joy,  and  every  other  effect. 
He  that  waits  for  such  effect,  to  know  whe- 
ther he  has  the  genuine  truth  or  no,  may 
finish  his  inquiry  by  reminding  himself,  that 
he  is  in  this  inquiry  very  evidently  but  upon 
the  search,  and  therefore  has  not  found 
truth  as  yet.  He  may  also  be  convinced 
that  his  search  is  wrong  and  preposterous, 
as  if  a  man  that  should  make  an  inquiry 
after  what  was  proper  food,  should,  instead 
thereof,  be  waiting  to  know,  by  certain  ef- 
fects, whether  he  had  ate  any  or  no.  The 
noble  Bereans  inquired  after  truth,  by 
searching  the  Scripture,  to  see  whether 
"  these  things  were  so ;  therefore  (it  is 
added)  many  of  them  believed."  The  truth 
was  made  manifest  unto  them  as  the  truth 
of  God.  _i  And  when  this  was  the  case,  they 
did  not  wait  for  the  joy  of  it,  with  its  effects, 
to  know  whether  it  was  so  or  no. 

"  Thus  they  receive  an  additional  know- 
ledge and  certainty  about  the  truth,  in  the 
way  of  experience,  by  perceiving  that  it 
works  eflfectually  in  them,  producing  its  ge- 
nuine effects." 

If  the  experience  of  the  effects  of  the 
genuine  gospel  produces  only  an  additional 
knowledge  and  certainty  from  experience, 
as  the  first  knowledge  and  certainty  came 
by  divine  evidence  ui  the  truth  itself;  this 
is  all  we  plead  for,  then  we  are  again 
agreed. 

"  As  often  as  the  apostles  speak  of  their 
interest  in  Christ,  and  life  eternal,  or  use 
any  language  to  that  effect,  sve  shall  find 
that  they  either  speak  of  themselves  sepa- 
rately, or  in  conjunction  with  those  only 
who  are  possessed  of  the  same  unfeigned 
faith  and  love  with  them." 

That  the  apostles  wrote  their  epistles  to 
professed  believers,  may  be  very  readily  ad- 
mitted. As,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the 
apostles  did  not  live  by  Christ  alone,  under 
the  notion  and  view  of  themselves  as  guilty 
smners,  but  only  through  a  medium  or  dis- 


covery of  their  own  faith,  lOve,  &c.  will  be 
very  difficult  to  be  proved,  however  confi- 
dently asserted. 

" '  Hereby  we,'  who  love  the  brethren, 
'  perceive  the  love  of  God,  because  he  laid 
down  his  life  for  us-'  We,  who  are  consci- 
ous of  the  efl'ects,  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  the 
atonement,  know  that  God  first  loved  us, 
and  had  a  particular  regard  to  us  in  provid- 
ing the  atonement." 

The  efl'ects  and  fruits  of  the  atonement 
are,  sinners'  peace  loilh  God,  their  access  to 
the  holiest  of  all  thereby  ;  if  it  is  allowed 
that  we  enjoy  and  are  conscious  of  these, 
we  are  again  agreed.  But  if  Palamon 
means  only  being  conscious  of  "working  in 
the  way  of  painful  desire  and  fear,  till  we 
are  crowned  with  enjoyment,"  there  caimot 
be  a  plainer  deviation  from  the  intent  of  the 
apostle.  The  apostle  says,  "  Hereby  per- 
ceive we  the  love  of  God,  because  he  laid 
down  his  life  for  us."  Palaemon  says. 
Hereby  perceive  we  the  love  of  God,  be- 
cause we  are  conscious  of  the  effects,  and 
enjoy  the  fruits  of  the  atonement.  The 
apostles  lead  us  to  think  he  laid  down  his 
life  for  us,  who  were  justly  doomed  to  eter- 
nal death.  Palaemon  leads  us  to  think  he 
laid  down  his  life  for  us  who  can  say,  God, 
1  thank  thee  I  am  not  as  other  men ;  "  who 
can  find  some  reason  about  themselves,  why 
all  the  great  things  spoken  and  done  by  Je- 
sus should  bear  its  peculiar  direction  to- 
wards them." 

Besides,  how  does  it  appear  we  love  the 
brethren,  when  those  we  call  so  are  seeking 
the  reason  of  their  hope,  certainty,  and  as- 
surance of  eternal  life,  wholly  in  their  own 
love  and  obedience  ;  consequently  are  not  in 
this  respect  the  despised  few,  but  of  the  same 
mind  and  judgment  with  every  natural  man  ? 

"  He  who,  perceiving  the  divine  love  to 
sinners  of  all  sorts  without  distinction,  ma- 
nifested in  the  atonement,  is  thereby  led  to 
love  the  atonement,  and  the  divine  character 
appearing  there ;  and  so  to  enjoy  the  pro- 
mised comfort  resulting  thence  to  the  obe- 
dient." 

If  the  promised  comfort  is  suspended  for 
want  of  obedience,  or  depends  on  obedience 
as  its  condition,  the  divine  love  is  far  from 
being  manifested  to  sinners  of  all  sorts  with- 
out distinction. 

"  And  thus,  by  happily  experiencing  the 
truth  of  the  gospel." 

He  does  not  experience  the  truth  of  the 
gospel,  but  only  the  effect  of  that  doctrine 
that  tells  him,  if  he  is  willing  and  obedient 
he  shall  eat  the  good  of  the  land  :  Whereas, 
the  truth  of  the  gospel,  relieving  the  guilty 
without  condition,  animates  thereby  to  all 
the  obedience  it  calls  for. 

"  So  he  labours  neither  fiist  nor  last  to 
acquire  any  requisite  to  justification;  but 
all  his   labour  proceeds   on    the   persuasion 


G12 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


that  the  atonement  itsolf  is  the  sole  and  suf- 
ficient requisite  to  justification." 

All  his  labour  proceeds  on  the  persuasion, 
that  however  suthcient  the  atonement  may 
be  for  fhe  elect,  yet  he  is  not  allowed  to 
account  it  of  any  use  to  him  a  sinner,  or  to 
trust  or  depend  upon  it,  but  to  be  at  an  en- 
tire uncertainty  about  it,  until  he  discovers 
his  works  of  obedience  to  such  a  degree  as 
to  conceive  himself  to  be  an  elect  person. 

"  So  he  knows  that  all  his  holiness,  as 
well  as  all  his  happiness,  comes  entirely  of 
that  grace  which  provided  the  atonement." 
Far  from  it ;  all  his  holiness,  as  well  as 
all  his  happiness,  according  to  Palaemon's 
representation,  comes  entirely  of  the  painful 
desire  and  fear,  lest  he  should  have  no  part 
in  that  grace  which  provided  the  atonement. 
"  The  merchant  who,  being  encouraged 
by  some  credible  intelligence  Providence 
has  favoured  him  with  from  an  unexpected 
quarter,  sets  out  at  ;ill  hazards  on  some 
new  branch  of  traffic,  will  be  greatly  ani- 
mated to  proceed  when  he  finds  his  laboiu's 
crowned  with  success." 

But  our  obtaining  salvation  is  not  like  a 
trading  merchant  setting  out  at  all  hazards  on 
a  new  branch  of  traffic.  This  is  salvation 
by  works  indeed  !  Matt.  xiii.  43  describes 
the  merchant  as  finding  one  pearl  of  great 
price,  which  puts  an  end  to  all  future  mer- 
chandising. 

"  He  who  so  knows  the  bare  report  there- 
of, as  to  love  it,  and  to  run  all  risks  upon 
it,  shall  in  nowise  lose  his  reward." 

True  ;  but  Palsmon's  Christian  rather 
runs  all  risks  in  order  to  know  his  part  in 
the  atonement,  than  on  the  account  of  the 
bare  report  of  salvation  to  the  guilty. 

"  The  passages  in  the  Dialogues  which 
appear  to  me  to  deserve  the  greatest  cen- 
sure, are  those  two  which  in  a  very  confi- 
dent manner  deny,  the  one,  the  comfort  at- 
tending the  simple  report  of  the  gospel,  and 
the  other,  the  additional  comfort  attending 
the  self-denied  obedience  to  it." 

These  passages  have  been  considered, 
and  it  appears  that  neither  are  denied,  but 
confirmed  by  Aspasio's  doctrine.  We  pro- 
ceed on  the  report  in  appropriation  ;  so  it 
is  the  very  basis  of  our  comfort.  We  are 
confirmed  by  the  effect  of  the  enjoyment, 
that  our  enjoyment,  or  the  foundation  of  it, 
is  not  a  fancy. 

"  And  all  this  is  done,  in  order  to  rest,  1 
cannot  say  our  comfort,  but  a  good  opi- 
nion of  our  state,  on  what  is  neither  faith 
nor  obedience." 

Not  so ;  but  to  rest  our  souls  on  Christ 
alone,  and  neither  on  our  faith,  obedience, 
nor  good  opinion  of  our  state. 

"  For,  according  to  the  popular  doctrine, 
men  living  for  a  course  of  years  together  in 
unbelief,  consequently  neither  loving  the 
gospel   nor  enjoying   the  comfort  of  it,  are 


allowed  to  consider  themselves  all  the  wFiiW 
as  resenerate,  provided  they  have  once  in 
their  lifetime  exerted  a  certain  act." 

It  may  be  so  according  to  the  popular 
doctrine ;  but  according  to  the  unpopular 
doctrine,  which  Paloemon  excepts  against, 
we  depend  upon  no  acts  but  the  perfect 
obedience  of  Christ. 

"  1  shall  now  take  some  notice  of  a  trea- 
tise highly  esteemed  by  the  votaries  of  the 
popular  doctrine  ;  I  mean.  The  Gospel 
Mystery  of  Sanctification." 

This  book  was  so  far  from  being  highly 
esteemed  by  the  votaries  of  the  popular 
doctrine  in  'England,  it  was  hardly  known 
till  Aspasio  recommended  it,  and  since  that 
disapproved  of  by  many  devout  people,  be- 
cause, 1.  It  proves  that  the  most  earnest 
desires  and  endeavours  after  obedience  to 
the  law,  may  be  .in  vhe  natural  state  of  man  : 
2.  That  the  new  life,  new  state,  or  new 
creation,  is  inseparably  in  Christ ;  so  that 
we  have  no  such  privilege,  but  in  enjoying 
Christ  himself  through  the  report  of  the 
gospel  :  3.  That  there  is  no  furniture  for 
the  obedience  of  love,  but  in  partaking  of 
this  reconciliation  or  new  state  in  Christ : 
4.  That  no  conditions  or  performances  are 
to  be  placed  between  the  sinner  and  the 
Saviour;  but  the  first  step  of  practical  reli- 
gion is  to  trust  on  Christ  alone,  as  given  to 
us  for  the  sure  enjoyment  of  himself  and  his 
salvation. 

"  This  author  supposes  his  unconverted 
reader,  when  beginning  to  be  concerned 
about  religion,  to  propose  for  this  end  such 
an  obedience  to  the  divine  law  as  may  be 
acceptable  to  God." 

He  rightly  supposes,  that  men  who  are 
yet  in  their  natural  state,  may  attain  with 
great  zeal  to  great  heights  of  legal  obedience, 
and,  as  Paul  and  others,  be  very  earnest 
after  it,  counting  it  their  truest  gain  ;  and, 
like  Paul,  at  the  same  time  totally  unac- 
quainted with,  yea,  enemies  unto,  real  Chris- 
tianity, and  the  obedience  of  love  to  the 
truth,  and  to  God  manifested  thereby. 

"  According  to  this  author,  then,  Christ 
is  not  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness, 
but  the  best  means  one  can  make  use  of 
for  enabling  him  to  perform  that  righteous- 
ness which  is  the  end  of  the  law." 

He,  as  the  apostle  does,  directs  unto  that 
love  which  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  by 
the  enjoyment  of  that  righteousness  which 
is  the  end  of  it,  by  enjoying  that  new  state 
of  peace  and  reconciliation  with  God  which 
is  inseparably  in  Christ :  or,  in  fact,  his 
view  is  to  recommend  the  gospel  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  as  a  principle  of  obedience,  in 
opposition  to  that  preliminary  grace,  which, 
as  Palsemon  well  says,  "  However  much  it 
has  been  Christianized,  is  at  bottom  the 
same  thing  with  that  divine  afflatus,  influ- 
ence, or  energy,  by  which  it  was  supposed 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO. 


613 


philosophers  and  heroes  of  old  became  good 
and  jrreat  men." 

"  AccordingLy  the  well-disposed  reader  is 
led  forward  to  his  desired  end,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  Slime  good  dispositions  that 
led  him  to  use  the  means." 

Not  so  ;  liow(!ver  fair  the  dii'cctions  may 
seem  to  promise,  at  first,  to  him  tliat  is  na- 
turally desirous  to  keej)  the  law  that  he  may 
live  ;  yet  no  man  is  made  a  disciple  to  these 
direction.s,  but  by  being  converted  from  this 
false  hope  to  the  hope  of  the  gospel.  No 
man  is  disposed  to  use  the  means  of  recon- 
ciliation with  God  by  Christ  alone  as  a 
principle  of  obedience,  but  he  that  is  con- 
verted fioni  the  false  hope  of  obtaining  life 
by  any  obedience  he  can  render,  to  live 
alone  by  what  Christ  hatli  already  done,  as 
the  spring  of  his  hope,  and  the  som'ce  of  his 
future  obedience. 

"  But  why  all  this  roundabout  course  ? 
Why  should  we  seek  to  repress  any  man's 
impetuosity  to  fulfil  the  law?  Why  should 
we  retard  his  course,  by  entangling  him  in 
a  labyrinth  about  the  use  of  means  ?" 

Men,  naturally  desirous  to  keep  the  law 
that  they  may  live,  ma/,  and  do,  as  Mr. 
Marshall  observes,  "  rush  blindly  upon  im- 
mediate practice,  making  more  haste  than 
good  speed,  crying  with  Israel  of  old,  All 
that  the  Lord  saitli,  we  will  do.  At  the 
same  time  there  is  no  such  heart  in  them." 
But  through  a  natur.d  propensity  to  things 
which  are  contrary  to  the  divine  law,  they 
continually  fail  in  the  obedience  they  have 
.so  strongly  purposed.  "  And  some  of 
these,  when  they  have  mispent  many  years 
in  strivmg  agaitist  the  stream  of  their  lusts, 
without  any  success,  do  at  last  fall  misera- 
bly into  despair,  and  turn  to  wallow  hi  the 
mire  of  their  lusts,  or  are  fearfully  swallow- 
ed up  with  horror  of  conscience."  As  all 
their  religion,  or  impetuosity  to  fulfil  the 
law,  is  founded  on  a  miserable  mistaken 
hope  to  live  by  their  own  obedience,  so  Mr. 
Marshall's  aim  is  to  throw  down  that  "  false 
hope,"  by  proving  that  there  can  be  no  obe- 
dience acceptiible  to  God,  till  we  are  first 
made  "  accepted  in  tiie  Beloved  ;"  or,  in 
other  words,  till  we  first  live  by  Christ's 
obedience  alone,  and  are  influenced  there- 
by. His  hope  to  live  by  his  own  obedi- 
ence is  criminal  ;  it  is  therefore  no  mattei- 
how  soon  we  rejjress  his  imjietuosity,  and 
retard  his  course ;  and  when  he  understands 
his  reconciliation  with  God  by  Christ  alone 
to  be  the  principle  or  means  of  gospel  ol)e- 
dience,  he  will  not  be  entangled  in  a  hiby- 
rinth,  but  made  free  by  the  Son  of  God. 

"  As  for  the  gospel,  it  was  only  intended 
to  relieve  those  ill-disposed  i)eople  who 
despair  of  ever  doing  any  thing  to  render 
them  acce])table  to  God,  by  any  assistance 
wiiatsoevcr." 

And  .Mr.  Marshall's  design   is  to  shew. 


that  those  wdMlsposeA  people  wno  hope  to 
live  by  their  own  obedience,  are,  in  fact,  at 
the  same  time,  those  Ill-disposed  i)eop\e,  who 
will  never  be  really  obedient  till  they  despair 
of  ever  doing  any  thing  to  render  them  ac- 
ceptable to  God,  by  any  assistance  whatso- 
ever ;  and  in  that  despair  of  themselves, 
live  alone  by  what  Christ  has  already  done. 

"  It  (the  gospel)  was  never  intended  to 
be  an  auxiliary  to  those  good  people  who 
are  desirous  to  give  acceptable  obedience  to 
the  divine  law." 

But  it  was  intended  to  remove  their  mis- 
take, that  they  may  be  obedient  from  a  more 
divine  principle  ;  that  is,  reconciliation  with 
God  by  Christ  alone.  And  this,  it  is  evident, 
is  the  main  design  of  Mr.  Marshall. 

"  All  such,  who  are  desirous  to  give  ac- 
ceptable obedience  to  the  divine  law, 
wheresoever  they  are,  shall  undoubtedly  be 
happy  without  having  any  occasion  to  trou- 
ble their  heads  about  the  gospel." 

All  such  who  are  of  this  character  uni- 
formly, and  without  contradiction.  But  it 
must  be  allowed,  that  there  are  many,  even 
every  natural  man  has  a  propensity  to  live 
by  his  own  obedience,  or  to  do,  that  he  may 
live.  At  the  same  time,  he  is  desirous  of 
those  things  which  are  contrary  to  that 
obedience,  whereby  he  forfeits -the  charac- 
ter and  becomes  guilty  before  God. 

"  Let  us  now  observe  the  use  of  means 
to  which  our  author  directs  : — Endeavour 
diliyeiUly  to  perfoi'in  the  great  work  of  be- 
lieving on  Christ." 

That  is,  in  Mr.  Marshall's  sense,  endea- 
vour diligently  to  live  by  Christ  alone,  to 
be  satisfied  with  him,  to  assure  your  soul 
of  salvation  by  him,  by  what  he  has  done 
and  suffered  ;  that  you  may  in  this  way  have 
a  i)ersonal  conscious  enjoyment  of  him  and 
his  fulness,  in  which  fulness  we  enjoy  re- 
conciliation with  God,  and  every  blessing 
tending  to  the  obedience  of  love.  Was 
Palaemon  to  (hrect  to  personal  conscious  en- 
joyment of  Christ,  he  would  tell  us  about 
working  diligently,  working  in  the  way  of 
painful  desire  and  fear,  till  we  were  crowned 
with  enjoyment  in  a  conviction  that  we 
were  distinguished  from  others,  by  having 
faith,  love,  and  self-denied  obedience. 
Where  lies  the  difference  between  the  two, 
but  that  the  latter  sjys,  Do  that  you  may 
live,  that  you  may  be  crowned  with  enjoyment; 
Tile  other  s:iys,  Live  by  (Jhrist,  that  you  may 
do  :  Enjoy  as  sinners,  that  you  live  as  saints, 

"  It  is  necessary  that  we  should  endea- 
vour it,  (i.  e.  to  believe  on  Christ.)  and  that 
before  we  find  the  Spirit  of  God  working  faith 
effi'ctually  in  us,  orgivingstrength  tobelieve." 

Mr-  M.irshall  here  considers  faith  as  a 
duty  requ'ied  by  the  law,  which  Palaemon 
also  asserts.  At  the  same  time,  he  so  e.x- 
|il  lins  hiniseif,  as  it  is  evident  I'aitli  neither 
jus'.ilii's    nor  sanctifies  as  4    dn'y    but  by 


614 


A  DEFENCE  OF 


Christ  alone  believed  in  :  And  it  is  also 
eyident  he  means  not  the  divine  passive 
conviction,  but  an  obedience  to  the  apos- 
tolic exhortation,  a  *'  trusting  on  a  Saviour, 
as  discovered  by  a  testimony,  which  (as  he 
says)  is  properly  believing  on  him." 

He  opposes,  at  the  same  time,  the  po- 
pular notion,  that  we  must  wait  for  God  to 
give  us  something  called  faith,  before  we 
are  to  attempt  to  believe,  or  to  live  by  his 
righteousness ;  whereas,  in  whomsoever 
faith  is  wrought,  they  immediately  live  by 
Christ  alone ;  they  wait  for  nothing,  they 
see  nothing  to  be  waited  for  ;  but  they  see 
Christ's  sufficient  work,  and  the  grant  of  it 
to  the  guilty,  a  sufficient  ground  for  imme- 
diate trust  and  confidence. 

"  Only  (says  Mr.  Marshall)  I  shall  prove 
that  we  are  bound  by  the  command  of 
God  thus  to  assure  ourselves ;  and  the 
Scripture  does  sufficiently  warrant  us,  that 
we  shall  not  deceive  ourselves  in  believing 
a  lie  ;  but  according  to  our  faith,  so  shall 
it  be  to  us.  Matt.  ix.  29.  Here  (says  Pa- 
laemon)  is  the  great  whirlpool  of  the  popu- 
lar doctrine." 

A  very  great  mistake  to  call  this  the  po- 
pular doctrine  ;  whereas  Mr.  W d,  Mr. 

W y,  and  numbers  more,  such  as  have 

been  named,  are  full  as  great  adversaries  to 
it  as  himself.  Nor  is  any  point  more  uni- 
versally opposed,  than  that  of  assuring  our- 
selves of  salvation  only  from  the  grant  of  a 
sufficient  righteousness  in  Jesus  Christ  to 
the  guilty. 

"  When  we  have  thus,  according  to  our 
author,  wrought  ourselves  into  a  new  state-" 
This  representation  is  not  just :  would  it 
be  proper,  when  a  man  receives  a  present, 
or  gift,  to  say  that  he  works  himself  into 
it  ?  It  is  true,  he  may  meet  with  some  op- 
position in  the  enjoyment  of  that  which  is 
freely  given  him.  And  in  this  case  the 
Scripture  prevents  Palaemon's  reflection,  by 
exhorting  us  to  work  out  our  own  salva- 
tion, &c. 

"  According  to  him,  there  is  no  practice 
of  holiness,  but  what  proceeds  from  the  per- 
suasion of  our  state  being  changed." 

Rather  from  our  persuasion  of  our  recon- 
ciliation with  God  by  Christ  alone,  arising, 
not  from  the  conceit  of  our  being  better  than 
others,  or  having  done  something  towards 
it,  but  as  given  freely  in  Christ  Jesus. 

"  This  persuasion  (of  his  state  being 
changed)  is  his  faith." 

No  such  matter.  Mr.  Marshall's  doc- 
trine, or  the  truth  believed  in,  his  faith  is, 
that  there  is  a  new  state  prepared  in  Christ 
for  the  guilty,  which  we  are  divinely  au- 
thorized to  enter  into  and  enjoy,  without 
any  works  at  all  ;  as,  on  the  other  hand, 
Paliemon's  doctrine  leaves  him  .working  in 
painful  desire  and  fear,  till  he  be  cvowned 
M'ilh  enjoyment. 


"  If  we  hearken  to  this  author,  we  must 
set  out  in  the  service  of  God,  from  the  con- 
fidence of  our  being  in  a  better  state  than 
other  men." 

Is  it  not  highly  consistent  that  we  should 
set  out  in  the  service  of  God,  with  the  fur- 
niture God  hath  provided  us  ?  If  God  hath 
given  to  us  eternal  life  in  his  Son,  is  not 
our  first  obedience  to  receive  and  enjoy  the 
eternal  life  that  is  in  him  ?  This  does  not 
consist  in  any  persuasion  that  we  are  better 
than  other  people,  that  there  is  any  new 
state  in  Christ  for  us  rather  than  for  others ; 
but  it  consists  purely  in  what  is  inseparably 
in  Christ  Jesus,  given  to  us  in  him,  and 
only  to  be  enjoyed  in  enjoying  him.  So 
that  the  whole  is,  we  must  set  out  as  fol- 
lowers of  our  Lord,  from  the  confidence  of 
the  eternal  life  given  freely  to  us  in  Christ 
Jesus. 

"  He  makes  no  account  of  the  grand 
things  testified  of  Christ,  as  any  way  suffi- 
cient to  lead  us  to  holiness,  without  a  good 
opinion  of  our  own  state." 

Paluemon  should  say,  if  he  would  give  a 
just  representation,  that  Mr.  Marshall  makes 
no  account  of  ail  that  holiness  which  is  not 
influenced  by  the  reception  and  enjoyment 
of  that  new  state,  and  eternal  life,  which  is 
freely  given  to  the  guilty  in  Christ  Jesus. 
Meanwhile,  the  opinion  we  have  of  our  own 
state  is,  that  it  is  stark  naught,  and  cannot 
be  mended.  This  is  far  from  having  a  good 
opinion  of  it. 

"  Thus  the  ancient  gospel,  which,  from 
the  beginning,  turned  many  from  idols  to 
serve  the  living  God,  is  now  set  aside." 

The  ancient  gospel  held  forth  the  new 
state,  and  eternal  life  given  in  Christ,  which 
we  plead  for. 

I  have  nothing  to  say  in  defence  of  my- 
self from  the  charge  of  patronizing  my  creed 
by  the  names  of  fallible  men,  I  acknow- 
ledge my  fault.  If  I  have  not  the  doctrine 
of  the  apostles,  what  signifies  having  all  the 
world  on  my  side  ?  And  if  I  have  them  to 
keep  me  in  countenance,  it  ought  to  be  little 
concern  though  the  wholeworld  are  against  me. 

•'  The  use  these  people  fi.  e.  the  people 
in  fellowship  with  W,  C.)  have  for  Christ 
is,  to  give  them  strength  to  do  something 
toward  their  justification." 

Our  appropriation  stands  in  no  opposi- 
tion to  free  justification  by  Christ  alone, 
but  rather  to  Paloemon's  coming  to  the 
knowledge  of  it  only  in  a  way  of  painful  de- 
sire and  fear. 

But  Paltemon's  main  objection  to  this  re- 
ception or  appropriation  of  Christ,  and  eter- 
nal life  in  him,  is,  that  "  this  is  doing  some- 
thing toward  our  justification."  To  what 
has  been  already  said,  I  would  only  add  the 
following  illustration  : — A  man  has  a  large 
estate  fallen  to  him  by  inheritance  or  legacy  ; 
he  is  now  informed  that  he  need  do  nothing 


THERON  AND  ASPASIO 


615 


toward  his  maintenance  at  all,  for  he  has 
a  sufficiency  to  live  upon,  and  that  it  would 
dishonour  his  benefactor,  and  be  a  disgrace 
to  him  to  think  of  it.  The  man  believes 
this,  and  accordingly  sits  down  to  a  plenti- 
ful table  provided,  under  a  notion  that  all 
things  being  ready,  he  has  nothing  to  do 
but  to  eat  or  enjoi/.  Upon  this,  a  virtuoso 
in  criticism,  like  Palaeraon,  informs  him, 
that  to  eat  is  to  do  something  towards  his 
maintenance  ;  that  the  victuals,  and  in  short 
every  thing  is  his,  without  any  act  of  his  at 
all.  So  that,  if  he  imagines  himself  under 
any  necessity  of  eating,  he  dishonours  his 
benefactor,  and  denies  the  estate  his  bene- 
factor has  given  to  him,  ,as  though  it  was 
not  in  itself  enough  to  maintain  him,  with- 
out doing  something  toward  his  own  main- 
tenance. What  answer  would  this  person 
in  all  likelihood  return  ?  Very  probably  he 
would  say,  You  speak  extremely  absurd  ; 
for  if  I  eat  not,  all  my  right  and  title  to  it 
will  be  of  no  service  to  me  :  I  starve,  I  die 
in  the  midst  of  plenty  :  Besides,  I  love  to 
eat.  The  case  is  as  parallel  as  possible  : 
Our  Lord  says,  He  is  "  the  bread  of  God 
come  down  from  heaven,  to  give  life  to  the 
world  ;  and  that  except  we  eat  the  flesh  of 
the  Son  of  man,  and  drink  his  blood,  we 
have  no  life  in  us." 

This  objection  of  Palaemon's  is  such  a 
fine-spun  cobweb  of  criticism,  that  he  seems 
to  have  catched  himself  in  it,  while  he  was 
endeavouring  to  entangle  us.  "  Is  it  possi- 
ble (says  he,)  after  what  we  have  seen,  for 
any  one  to  maintain,  that  these  people  look 
for  acceptance  with  God,  only  through  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ  once  ofTered  for  the  sins 
of  many  ?" 

Now,  to  look  for  acceptance  with  God 
only  through  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  is  the 
very  thing  we  plead  for,  and  he  has  been 
opposing.  His  argument  has  been,  "  The 
sacrifice  of  Christ  is  sufficient  of  itself.  To 
appropriate,  or  to  look  for  acceptance  with 
God  oti  that  account,  is  evidently  to  do 
something  towards  our  justification  ;  this  is 
to  set  up  in  its  stead  another  sacrifice  of 
their  own  preparing  and  offering. 

"  He  who  maintains  that  we  are  justifi- 
ed only  by  faith,  and  at  the  same  time  af- 
firms with  Aspasio,  that  faith  is  a  work 
exerted  by  the  human  mind,  uiidoubt- 
ly  maintains,  if  he  has  any  meaning  to  his  j 
words,  that  we  are  justified  by  a  work  ex- 
erted by  the  human  mind." 

May   not    Aspasio    as    readily    retort, 


He  who  maintains  that  we  are  justified 
only  by  faith,  and  at  the  same  time  af- 
firms with  Palijemon,  "  That  faith  is  a 
principle  of  life  and  action,''  undoubtedly 
maintains,  if  he  has  any  meaning  to  his 
words,  that  we  are  justified  by  a  principle 
of  life  and  action?  The  answer  that  re- 
treives  him  out  of  this  difficulty,  will  also 
serve  us. 

I  have  now  considered  all  that  I  appre- 
hend we  are  concerned  with  in  Mr.  Sande- 
man's  performance,  not  with  a  design  to 
manifest  his  blemishes,  or  to  defend  Aspa- 
sio's,  but  to  preserve  the  important  truth 
he  contended  for  from  the  objections  aris- 
ing through  evident  mistakes  and  misrepre- 
sentations. Not  pleading  for  a  manner  of 
believing,  either  active  or  passive,  but 
pleading  against  the  private  interpretation 
of  those  divine  declarations,  which  are  the 
sinner's  only  ground  of  immediate  trust  and 
confidence  in  that  sufficient  righteousness. 
It  is  no  pleasure  to  me  to  find  a  people  to 
whom  my  heart  inclines  on  account  of  their 
appearing  attachment  to  this  sufficiency  of 
Christ,  at  the  same  time  so  inclined  to  ex- 
plain away  those  divine  declarations,  and 
tell  us,  that  "  God  may,  if  he  pleases,  have 
mercy  upon  me,"  is  all  the  conclusion  that 
the  guilty  and  destitute  can  draw  from  what 
God  has  revealed.  Now^  in  this  case,  are 
we  not  to  take  heed,  lest,  under  the  notion 
of  purer  faith,  "  we  depart  from  trusting 
in  the  living  God,"  (to  a  labouring  in  pain- 
ful desire  and^fear)  "  through  an  evil  heart 
of  unbelief?"  And  as  there  is  a  natural 
propensity  in  man  to  self-dependence,  is 
there  not  a  proportionate  averseness  in  him 
to  trust  on  the  bare  declarations  of  the  di- 
vine word  ?  And  may  not  this  be  the 
source  of  those  Pharisaic  attempts  Mr. 
Sandeman  has  so  justly  detected,  of  the  ob- 
jections that  stand  between  us  ;  and  also  of 
those  laboured  inventions  of  others,  to  make 
out  that  men  are  saved  by  Christ  in  a  way 
of  natural  necessary  connexion  ;  hereby  at 
once  setting  aside  the  divine  sovereignty, 
declarations,  promises,  or  trust  therein.  I 
sliall  only  add,  that  if  what  we  have  plead- 
ed for  is  (without  misrepresentation)  prov- 
ed a  contradiction  to  the  sufficiency  of  the 
finished  work  of  Christ,  then,  and  not  till 
then,  I  shall  see  a  necessity  for  understand- 
ing the  Scriptures  on  this  subject  in  an- 
other light  than  I  do  at  present,  and  shall 
make  my  public  acknowledgment  accord- 
ingly 


1S16 


AMENDMENTS  PROPOSED  IN 


DIRECTIONS 

To  the  Readers  o/'Theron  and  Aspasio,  with  respect  to  the  Amendments  vihich  were  in- 
tended by  Mr.  Hervey,  had  he  survived  another  Edition. —  Taken  from  Mb.  Cud- 
worth's  Defence. 


Page  315.  c.  1. 1.  44.  read,  "  This,  he  says, 
as  it  was  wrought  in  the  name  and  stead  of  the 
guilty,  enemies  and  rebellious,  was  wrought 
but  in  my  name,  and  in  my  stead  ;  and  is 
in  a  name  and  character  that  undoubtedly 
belongs  to  me,  and,  according  to  the  decla- 
rations of  divine  grace,  sufficiently  author- 
izes me  to  draw  near  to  God  thereby." 

P.  416.  c.  2. 1. 54.  "Not  one  among  all  the 
numberless  productions  which  tread  the 
ground,  or  stand  rooted  on  the  soil,  wants 
sny  convenience  that  is  proper  for  its  re- 
spective state.  And  the  same  heavenly 
Father  has  provided,  for  the  most  guilty, 
the  righteousness  which  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  his  present  comfort,  and  his  final 
happiness." 

,  P.  417.  c.  1. 1.  17.  "Consider  those  stately 
poppies,  &c.  observe  the  young  ravens,  &c. 
He  accommodates  the  former,  though  in- 
capable of  asking  ;  he  attends  to  the  latter, 
though  insensible  of  their  Benefactor.  He 
also  regards  our  pressing  wants  ;  he  has 
also  superseded  our  earnest  petitions  by 
such  free  and  unmerited  gifts,  as  it  is  both 
his  delight  and  his  honour  to  bestow." 

P.  417.  c.  2.  1.  .35.  "  So  that  nothing  is  re- 
quired in  order  to  our  participation  of  Christ 
and  his  benefits.  We  receive  them  as  the 
freest  gifts  ;  as  matter  of  mere  grace." 

P.  418.  c.  1. 1.  31.  "  The  man  without  a 
wedding  garment,  &c.  Your  former  mis- 
takes, and  present  olyections,  tend  to  place 
you  in  the  state  of  this  unhappy  creature. 
The  returning  prodigal  came  with  no  re- 
commendation either  of  dress,  of  person,  or 
of  character :  None  but  his  nakedness  and 
misery ;  his  acknowledgment  and  vile- 
ness,  which  had  every  aggravating,  not  one 
extenuating  circumstance-" 

P.  418.  c.  2i';i.  27.  "  If  there  be  any  quali- 
fication, I  think  it  is  our  extreme  indigence  ; 
and  this,  I  presume,  you  are  not  without." 

P.  4 1 8.  C.2. 1. 50. " Sanctification,  heavenly- 
mindedness,  and  a  victory  over  our  lusts,  are 
not  the  qualities  he  requires,  but  the  bless- 
ings which  he  confers." 

P.  419.  c.2.1.  40.  "  The  greatest  unworthi- 
ness  is  no  objection  in  Christ's  account ;  it 
is  as  much  disavowed  by  the  gospel,  as  equi- 
vocal generation  is  exploded  by  the  disco- 
veries of  our  improved  philosophy  " 

P.  420.  c.  2. 1.  .30.  "  From  the  Khig,ivhose 
name  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  let  us  expect  (if 
he  vouchsafe  to  show  us  any  mercy)  not 
barely  what  corresponds  with  our  low  mo- 


dels of  generosity — much  less  what  we  sup- 
pose proportioned  to  our  fancied  deserts, 
but  what  is  suitable  to  the  unkno\vri  magni- 
ficence of  his  name,  and  the  imbounded  be- 
nevolence of  his  heart.  Then  we  shall  no 
longer  be  afraid  assuredly  to  trust  to  the 
gracious  declaration,  '  that  Christ  Jesus  is 
made  of  God  to  us  wisdom,  and  righteous- 
ness, and  sanctification,  and  redemption  :' 
That  he  hath  given  himself  for  us,  hath 
given  himself  to  us,  with  all  the  blessings 
of  his  purchase,  of  his  Spirit,  and  of  eter- 
nal life." 

P.  421.  c.  1 . 1.  36.  "  That  we  all  deserve 
this  misery,  is  beyond  dispute.  We  are  also 
told,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  has  satisfied  di- 
vine justice." 

P.  421.  c.  2.  1. 17.  "  You  are  still  corrupt ; 
does  this  exclude  you  from  being  the  very 
person  for  whom  the  Saviour's  righteous- 
ness is  intended,  and  to  whom  it  is  pro- 
mised ?" 

P.  421.  c.  2.1.  48.  "And  sure  it  cannot  be  a 
fanciful  persuasion  of  our  health  which  ren- 
ders us  proper  objects  of  his  recovering 
grace." 

P.  422.  c.  2.  1.  8.  "  I  behold  it  (Theron's 
title)  perfectly  clear,  not  because  you  long 
or  pray  for  it,  but  because  the  all-sufficient 
righteousness  is  granted  to  you  a  sinner  in 
the  record  of  the  gospel." 

P.  422.  c.  2. 1.  31.  "  If  any  man,  however 
unworthy  his  person,  or  obnoxious  his  cha- 
racter, thirst ;  thirst  for  something  to  make 
him  happy — let  him  not  seek  to  that  which 
satisfieth  not ;  but  let  him  come  to  me,  the 
fountain  of  living  waters,  and  drink  his  fill. 

"  The  clergyman,"  &c. 

P.  423.  c.  1. 1. 23.  "  They  are  to  be  enjoyed 
by  every  one.     No  exception  is  made." 

P.  423.  c.  1. 1. 55.  "  To  us  (says  the  prophet) 
a  child  is  born." 

P.  423.  c.  2. 1.  20.  "  Since  the  Lord  Jehovah 
has  given  us  his  Son,  and  all  his  unutter- 
able merits ;  and  also  seals  this  grant  unto 
us,  in  every  sacramental  ordinance ;  wHy 
should  we  not  confide  in  it,  as  firmer  than 
the  firmest  deed,  and  far  more  invaluable 
than  any  royal  patent?" 

"  Ther.  My  servant  never,"  &c. 

P.  427.  c  2. 1.  17.  "  It  seems  to  be  quite 
out  of  my  reach." 

"  Asp.  That  is,  because  you  still  imagine 
something  to  be  done  by  you,  to  entitle  to 
this  immaculate  and  perfect  righteousness. 
You  give  no  credit  to  those  deckirations  of 


THERON  AND  ASFASIO. 


(il7 


Heaven,  which  bring  it  near  to  your  view, 
and  home  to  your  condition.  Remember 
rather  the  words  of  our  Lord,  '  Come  unto 
me,  all  ye  that  are  weary,  and  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest.'  " 

p.  4.27.  c  2.  1.  Si.  "  Nothing  short  of  these 
mercies  can  afford  any  satisfaction  to  the 
guilty  conscience,  or  true  satisfaction  to  the 
restless  soul. 

"  Say  not,  then,  my  dear  friend,  that  Christ 
and  the  blessings  of  his  purchase,  are  be- 
yond your  reach.  They  are  now,  even  now, 
at  your  door." 

P.  428.  c.  1.1. 60.  "  If  you  heard  his  voice, 
you  would  believe  on  him  agreeable  thereto. 
You  then  open  the  door,  and  he  sups  with 
you,  makes  his  abode  with  you,  manifests  his 
salvation,  and  communicates  his  blessings. 
If  you  believed  his  promising  word,  you 
would  no  longer  hesitate  to  believe  on  him 
accordingly.  You  then  sup  with  him. 
This  will  be  refreshing  to  your  distressed 
soul,  as  the  most  sumptuous  banquet  to  the 
famished  stomach  and  craving  appetite." 
Expunge  all  from  here  to  the  words, 

"  Titer.   This  I  believe That  I  am  a 

lost  sinner,"  &c. 

P.  428.  c.  2. 1.  38. "  He  that  believes  on  the 
Son,  hath — a  chimerical?  far  from  it — a 
real  substantial  happiness ;  even  everlast- 
ing life." 

P.  428.  C.2. 1.  56.  "  Can  you  doubt  of  bis 
willingness  to  save  the  chief  of  sinners  ?  or 
his  sincerity  in  his  declarations  ?  Then  go 
to  ]\Iount  Calvary." 

P.  429.  c.l.  1.13.  "  What  a  stranger  was  I 
then  to  the  blindness  of  my  understanding, 
and  the  hardness  of  my  heart !  to  my  bond- 
age under  unbelief,  atid  my  liatural  averse- 
ness  to  the  way  of  salvation  by  grace, 
through  faith ! 

"  Asp.  Are  you  sure  this  is  not  now  your 
case  ?  This  sentiment,  though  ever  so  just, 
will  not  palliate  your  present  infidelity. 
Since  the  great  Jehovah  has  declared  the 
grant  of  his  Son  to  you  a  sinner  ;  since  he 
has  thus  given  to  you  eternal  life  in  him  ; 
since  he  has  warranted  your  immediate  re- 
ception and  enjoyment,  by  his  commands, 
invitations,  and  promises ;  you  make  him 
a  liar  in  all,  you  reject  his  word  as  not 
to  be  depended  on,  every  moment,  you  thus 
luibelievingly  hesitate."  Expunge  from  here 
to 

"  Ther.  But  is  not  faith  the  work  of 
God's  Spirit  ?  How,  or  in  what  manner," 
Kc. 

p.  429.  c.  2.  1.  10.  "  I  very  much  question 
whether  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  attain  it.       | 

"■Asp.  The  true  belief,  Theron,  has  no 
existence  without  its  jiropcr  object,  Christ, 
and  is  never  to  be  considered  in  the  light 
you  speak  of;  that  is,  as  a  most  iclined 
and  cxuUi'd  virtue.  \Micn,  upon  (he  divine 
grant  in   tlit    vvonl,  you   behold    Christ   as 


your  given  righteousness  and  strength,  then 
you  truly  believe  ;  you  believe  God's  truth, 
which  can  never  deceive  ;  you  receive  the 
gift  which  enriches  you  with  grace  and  glory. 
But  permit  me  to  ask,"  &c. 

P.  436.  c.  2.  1.  16.  "  If  you  rely  ontheall- 
sufficiency  of  his  gracious  declarations,  as 
the  foundation  of  immediate  tnist  or  confi- 
dence, as  well  as  the  all-sufficiency  of  his 
power." 

P.  4.36.  c  2.  1.  2.3. "  Let  the  most  wretched 
sinner,  and  most  afflicted  soul,  trust  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord." 

In  note,  p.  439.  "  We  only  affirm,  that 
an  appropriating  persuasion  of  salvation  by 
Christ  alone,  is  that  confidence  which  pro- 
perly answers  to  the  divine  report  and  grant 
of  a  Saviour  to  be  believed  on  for  everlast- 
ing life." 

P.  442.  c.  2.  1.  33.  "Asp.  The?/ is  what  I 
greatly  question  ;  but  of  this  I  am  certain, 
that  you  are  still  inclined  to  spare  Agaij." 

P.  442.  c.  2. 1. 56.  "  You  ask,  Whether  the 
state  of  these  persons  is  safe,  and  their  faith 
real  ?  I  answer,  What  evidence  is  there  of 
their  safety,  or  their  faith,  while  Christ,  the 
only  security,  is  neglected,  and  the  free  grant 
of  him  to  sinners  thus  disbelieved  ?  Besides,- 
why  should,"  &c. 

P.  443.  c.  ] .  1.  43.  "God  has  freely  loved  me, 
so  as  to  give  his  Son  unto  me  ;  Christ  has 
graciously  died  for  me,  to  take  share  in  his 
death  as  my  own ;  and  the  Holy  Ghost 
sanctifies  me,  in  the  belief  and  appropriat- 
ing confidence  arising  from  these  precious 
truths." 

P.  443.  c.2. 1.59.  "  When  the  divine  Spirit, 
speaking  in  the  gracious  declarations  of  the 
gospel,  manifests  the  grant  of  Christ  to  me 
a  sinner,  then  am  I  enabled  to  receive  and 
a])propriate  his  death  as  the  desert  of  my 
sins,  and  his  obedience  as  the  matter  of  my 
justification." 

P.445.C.  l.h  33.  "  May  I  firmly  believeon 
Christ  for  everlasting  life  ?  May  I  firmly 
believe,  that  in  this  infinitely  meritorious 
Redeemer  I  have  granted  unto  me  pardon 
and  acceptance  ?"  &c. 

P.  445.  c.l.  1.  42.  "  I  do  more  than  pardon 
my  dear  Theron  :  I  feel  for  him,  and  I 
sympathize  with  him  ;  not  because  he  has 
not  sufficient  evidence  from  God's  word  for 
trusting  in  Christ  for  everlasting  life,  but 
because  I  have  also  felt  that  perverse  ten- 
dency in  my  own  heart,  to  mistrust  the  in- 
fallible word  of  my  tiod,  as  though  he  was 
less  to  be  depended  on  than  fallible  man." 

In  like  manner  were  to  be  corrected,  all 
other  jjassages  in  his  writings  which  might 
be  understood  as  making  thirstings,  awaken- 
ings, earnest  prayers,  sorrows,  tears,  good 
desires,  or  sense  of  uinvorthiness,  as  the  en- 
couragement for  confidence.  This  IMr. 
Hervcy  acknowledged  was  inconsistent  with 
his  main  design,  which  was  to  come  to  God 


618 


MARSHALL  IMPROVED. 


by  Him  only  who  was'able  to  save,  to  save 
to  the  uttermost ;  but  he  had  been  drawn 
sometimes  into  this  way  of  expressing  him- 
self by  too  great  a  regard  for  the  ciu-rent  cus- 
toms ;  and  not  considering,  that,  till  the 
divine  relieving  truth  appear  in  view,  the 
wishes  and  desires  of  the  distressed  are  as 
much  pointed  against  the  salvation  of  the 
guilty,  as  the  carelessness  of  the  profane. 
He  was  sensible,  that  "  the  gospel  history 
gives  us  no  instance  of  an  unbeliever  dili- 
gent to  obtain  faith  ;"  and  therefore  intend- 
ed to  expunge  every  thing  that  tended  to 
encourage  such  mistakes. 
,  -  "When  he  took  notice  of  "a  speculative 
assent  to  all  the 'principles  of  religion,"  he 
intended  by  it  such  agreeing  with  the  cur- 
rent opinions  as  will  stand  consistent  with 
sentiments  quite  subversive  of  the  saving 
truth :  Not  such  a  knowledge  of  the  truth 
as  the  apostle  speaks  of,  when  he  says, 
•♦  Ye  know  the  truth,  and  that  no  lie  is  of 
the  truth."  He  well  knew,  that  there  was 
no  man,  but  he  that  is  taught  of  God,  could 
be  satisfied  with  the  apostolic  account  of 
salvation ;  and  would  have  informed  Theron, 
had  he  another  opportunity,  "  that  if  he  at- 
tempted to  do  any  thing,  easy  or  difficult, 
under  the  notion  of  an  act  of  believing,  or 
any  other  act,  in  order  to  his  acceptance 
with  God,  he  only  thereby  heaped  up  more 
wrath  against  himself." 

H«  was  also  sensible,  that  a  man  may  be 
very  useful  and  amiable  amongst  men,  and 


at  the  same  time  an  utter  enemy  to  the 
grace  of  God's  kingdom  ; — that  he  had  been 
too  forward  in  commendations  of  those  who 
were  no  friends  to  apostolic  Christianity. 
His  design  was  only  to  commend  what  was 
amiable  in  every  one,  passing  over  their 
blemishes.  In  this  design,  he  acknowledged, 
he  was  carried  to  an  extreme.  When  he 
says  of  Erasmus  and  Locke,  that  they  sat 
at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  he  only  meant  to  ex- 
press, in  an  elegant  way,  that  they  betook 
themselves  to  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  not  to  vindicate  their  notions. 

And  he  counted  it  an  observation  well 
worthy  regard  that  "  it  may  be  maintained 
by  some,  that  conversion  is  carried  on  by 
grace  assisting  nature ;  and  by  others,  that 
this  matter  is  wholly  conducted  by  irresisti- 
ble grace  ;  and  yet  both  sides  may  be  equal- 
ly disaffected  to  that  doctrine  which  main- 
tains the  work  finished  by  Christ  on  the 
cross,  to  be  the  only  requisite  to  justifica- 
tion. And  that  while  many  Christian 
teachers  maintain,  that  no  man  can  be  emi- 
nently virtuous  without  divine  energy,  they 
say  no  more  than  Heathen  philosophers 
have  said  before  them." 

These  remarks  and  observations  may  be 
sufficient  to  direct  the  intelligent  reader  of 
Theron  and  Aspasio  to  avoid  needless  ob- 
jections, and  also  to  improve  that  perform- 
ance more  agreeably  to  the  Scriptures  and 
the  author's  own  mind. 


Mr.  Hervey's  hopes  of  accomplishing  a  fourth  volume  of  Theron  and  Aspasio,  was  not  executed.  The 
following  is  a  plan  of  such  improvement,  where,  by  changing  the  fourteen  directions  into  the  form  of  As- 
sertions or  Propositions,  the  strongest  objections  are  enervated. 


"  Assertion  I. — That  practice  and  manner 
of  life  which  the  Scripture  calls  holiness, 
righteousness,  or  godliness,  obedience,  true 
religion,  is  not  attained  by  our  most  resolved 
endeavours,  but  is  given  through  the  know- 
ledge of  him  that  has  called  us  to  glory  and 
virtue. 

Assert.  II. — No  man  can  love  God  till 
he  knows  him,  nor  till  he  knows  him  to  be 
his  everlasting  friend.  Therefore,  the  spring 
of  true  holiness  is  a  well-grounded  persua- 
sion of  our  reconciliation  with  God,  atid  of 
our  future  enjoyment  of  the  everlasting 
heavenly  happiness,  and  of  sufficient  strength , 
given  in  him  for  all  he  calls  us  unto. 

Assert.  Ill — These  endowments,  so  ne- 
cessary to  the  obedience  of  love,  are  con- 
tained in  the  fulness  of  Christ,  and  are  enjoy- 
ed only  by  union  and  fellowship  with  him. 

Assert.  IV. — The  mean  or  instrument 
whereby  the  Spirit  of  God  accomulisbeth 


our  imion  with  Christ,  and  our  fellowship 
with  him  in  all  holiness,''  is  the  gospel, 
whereby  Christ  entereth  into  our  hearts, 
begetting  us  to  the  faith  whereby  we  actu- 
ally receive  Christ  himself,  with  all  his  ful- 
ness, unto  the  hope  of  eternal  life  by  him. 
And  thus  by  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of 
truth,  we  unfeignedly  believe  the  gospel, 
and  also  believe  on  Christ  as  he  is  revealed 
and  freely  promised  ^to  us  therein,  for  all 
his  salvation. 

Assert.  V. — The  practice  of  true  holiness 
is  not  attained  by  any  endeavours  of  our  na- 
tural state,  but  is  a  blessing  of  that  new 
state  given  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  partaken 
of  by  union  and  fellowship  with  Christ 
through  faith. 

Assert.  VI. — Those  that  endeavour  to 
perform  sincere  obedience  to  all  the  conv 
mands  of  Christ,  as  the  condition  whereby 
they  are  to  procure  for  themselves  a  right 


MARSHALL  RECOMMENDED. 


619 


and  title  to  salvation,  and  a  good  ground  to 
trust  on  him  for  the  same,  do  seek  their 
salvation  by  the  works  of  the  law,  and  not 
by  the  faith  of  Christ  as  he  is  revealed  in 
the  gospel ;  and  they  shall  never  be  able  to 
perform  sincerely  any  true  holy  obedience 
by  all  such  endeavours. 

Assert.  VII. — We  are  not  to  imagine, 
that  our  hearts  and  lives  must  be  changed 
from  sin  to  holiness,  in  any  measure,  before 
we  may  safely  venture  to  trust  on  Christ 
for  the  sure  enjoyment  of  himself  and  his 
salvation. 

Assert.  VIII. — True  holiness  of  heart 
and  life  hath  its  due  order  where  God  hath 
placed  it,  that  is,  after  union  with  Christ, 
justification,  and-the  gift  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
It  is  not  therefore  to  be  expected  but  in 
that  order,  as  what  accompanies  salvation. 

Assert.  IX. — It  is  only  by  the  comforts 
of  the  gospel,  revealing  a  just  God  and  a 
Saviour,  that  God  works  in  us  to  will  and 
to  do  of  his  good  pleasure. 

Assert.  X. — The  comforts  of  the  gospel 
necessary  to  Christian  obedience,  contain 
sufficient  grounds  of  assurance  of  our  sal- 
vation, not  because  we  believe,  but  in  a  way 
of  immediate  ti-ust  and  confidence.  There- 
fore, instead  of  seeking  other  methods  of 
peace  and  holiness,  we  must  endeavour  to 
believe  or  trust  on  Christ  confidently  ;  per- 
suading and  assuring  ourselves,  according  to 
the  divine    declarations,   that    God    freely 


gives  to  us  an  interest  in  Christ  and  his 
salvation,  according  to  his  gracious  pro- 
mise. 

Assert.  XI. — It  is  therefore  belonging 
to  the  practical  part  of  the  Christian  life,  to 
maintain  the  same  immediate  trust  and  con- 
fidence in  dependence  on  the  divine  faith- 
fulness, not  to  suffer  us  to  be  confounded, 
that  so  our  enjoyment  of  Christ,  union  and 
fellowship  with  him,  and  all  holiness  by 
him,  may  be  continued  and  increased  in  us. 

Assert.  XII. —  The  Scripture  calls  upon 
Christians  to  walk  no  longer  according  to 
the  principles  or  means  of  practice  that  be- 
long unto  the  natural  or  original  state  of 
man,  but  only  according  to  that  new  state 
given  in  Christ  which  we  receive  by  faith, 
and  the  principles  and  means  of  practice 
that  properly  belong  thereunto  ;  and  to 
strive  to  continue  and  increase  in  such  a 
manner  of  practice. 

Assert.  XIII. — All  ordinances  of  divine 
appointment,  for  the  establishment  and  in- 
crease of  our  faith  and  love,  are  to  be  con- 
sidereo  only  in  this  way  of  believing  in 
Christ,  and  walking  in  him  according  to 
this  new  state  given  in  him. 

Assert.  XIV. — That  we  may  be  con- 
firmed in  holiness  only  by  believing  in  " 
Christ,  and  walking  in  him  by  faith,  accord- 
ing to  the  former  assertions,  we  may  take 
encouragement  from  the  great  advantages  of 
this  way,  and  excellent  properties  of  it. 


A  RECOMMENDATORY  LETTER  from  Mr.  HERVEY,  to  th".  Publisher  of 
a  New  Edition  of  MARSHALL  on  Sanctification. 


Sir, — It  gives  me  no  small  pleasure  to 
hear,  that  you  are  going  to  republish  Mr. 
Marshall's  Gospel  Mystery  of  Sanctifica- 
tion." The  instruction,  consolation,  and 
spiritual  improvement,  which  I  myself  have 
received  from  that  solid  and  judicious  trea- 
tise, excite  in  me  a  pleasing  hope,  that  it 
may  be  equally  instructive  and  advantage- 
ous to  others. 

The  recommendation  of  it  in  Theron 
and  Aspasio,  with  which  you  propose  to 
introduce  the  new  edition,  is  at  your  ser- 
vice. To  this  proposal  I  consent  the  more 
readily,  because  Mr.  Marshall's  book  may 
be  looked  upon  as  no  improper  supplement 
to  those  Dialogues  and  Letters,  the  author 
of  which  intended  to  have   closed  his  plan 


•  It  is  said,  by  tho  very  best  judne  of  propriety  in 
sacred  writint;,  "(ireat  is  the  mystery  of  godlinos," 
1  'I'im.  lii.  l(i.  This  passage,  I  preMiuie,  Mr.  Mar- 
shall had  in  his  view,  when  he  pitched  upon  a  title 
for  his  book.  And  this  passage  will  renJi  r  it  supc- 
riiir  to  all  censure,  unexce()tionably  just  and  proper. 


with  a  dissertation  on  practical  holiness,  or 
evangelical  obedience.  But  this  design 
was  dropped,  partly  on  account  of  his  very 
declining  health,  partly  because  the  work 
swelled  under  his  hands  far  beyond  his  ex- 
pectation. 

He  has  been  advised  once  more  to  re- 
sume the  pen,  and  treat  that  grand  subject 
with  some  degree  of  copiousness  and  parti- 
cularity. If  ,he  should  be  enabled  to  exe- 
cute what  he  acknowledges  to  be  expedient, 
the  doctrines  already  discussed,  and  the  pri- 
vileges already  displayed,  will  furnish  the 
principal  materials  for /his  essay.  Justifi- 
cation, free  justification,  through  the  right- 
eousness of  Jesus  Christ,  is  the  sacred 
fleece  from  which  he  .would  spin  his  thread, 
and  weave  his  garment  ;  agreeably  to  that 
important  text,  "  Ye  are  bought  with  a 
price,  therefore  glorify  God,'  1  Cor.  vi.  20. 
If  providence,  in  all  things  wise,  and  in  all 
things  gracious,  should  see  fit  to  withhold  ei- 
ther time  or  ability  for  the  accomplishment  of 


620 


MARSHALL  RECOMMENDED. 


my  purpose,  I  do,  by  tliese  presents,  nomin- 
ate and  dejjute  Mr.  Marshall  to  supply  my 
lack  of  service. 

Mr.  Marshall  expresses  my  thoughts  ;  he 
prosecutes  my  scheme  ;  and  not  only  pur- 
sues the  same  end,  but  proceeds  in  the 
same  way.  I  shall  therefore  rejoice  in  the 
prospect  of  having  the  Gospel  Mystery  of 
Sanctification  stand  as  a  fourth  volume  to 
Theron  and  Aspasio.  Might  1  be  allow- 
ed, without  the  charge  of  irreverence,  to 
use  the  beautiful  images  of  an  inspired 
writer,  I  could  with  great  satisfaction  say, 
"  If  this  be  a  wall,  that  wll  build  upon  it 
a  palace  of  ivory ;  if  this  be  a  door,  that 
will  enclose  it  with  boards  of  cedar."  Cant, 
viii.  9. 

Mr.  Marshall  represents  true  holiness  as 
consisting  in  the  love  of  God,  and  the  love 
of  man  ;  that  unforced,  unfeigned,  and  most 
rational  love  of  God,  which  arises  from  a 
discovery  of  his  unspeakable  mercy  and  in- 
finite kindness  to  us ;  that  cordial,  disin- 
terested, and  universal  love  of  man,  which 
flows  from  the  possession  of  a  satisfactoiy 
and  delightful  portion  in  the  Lord  Jeho- 
vah. These  duties  of  love  to  our  Creator 
and  our  fellow-creatures,  are  regarded  as  the 
sum  and  substance  of  the  moral  law  ;  as  the 
root  from  which  all  other  branches  of  pure 
and  luidefiled  religion  spring.  Holiness, 
thus  stated,  is  considered,  not  as  the  means, 
but  as  a  part,  a  distinguished  part,  of  our 
siilvation ;  or  rather  as  the  very  central 
point,  in  which  all  the  means  of  grace,  and 
all  the  ordinances  of  religion,  terminate. 

Man,  in  a  natural  state,  is  absolutely  in- 
capable of  practising  this  holiness,  or  en- 
joying  this  happiness.  If  you  ask.  What 
is  meant  by  a  natural  state  ?  It  is  that  state 
in  which  we  are  under  the  guilt  of  sin  and 
the  curse  of  the  law,  are  subject  to  the 
power  of  Satan,  and  influenced  by  evil  pro- 
pensities. From  this  state  none  are  re- 
leased, but  by  being  united  to  Christ ;  or, 
as  the  apostle  speaks,  by  "  Christ  dwelling 
in  the  heart  through  faith."  Eph.  iii. 
17. 

Faith,  according  to  Mr.  Marshall,  is  a 
real  persuasion  that  God  is  pleased  to  give 
Christ  and  his  salvation  ;  to  give  him  free- 
ly, without  any  recommending  qualifica- 
tions, or  preparatory  conditions  ;  to  give 
him,  not  to  some  sinners  only,  but  to  tne  a 
sinner  in  particular.  It  is  likewise  an  ac- 
tual receiving  of  Christ,  with  all  the  bene- 
fits, privileges,  and  promises  of  the  gospel  ; 
in  pursuance  of  the  divine  gift,  and  on  no 
other  warrant  than  the  divine  gi-ant.  This 
last  oflice  is  particularly  insisted  on,  as  an 
essential  part,  or  as  the  principal  act  of 
faith  ;  to  perform  which  there  is  no  ration- 
al, no  possible  way,  unless,  as  our  author 
declares,  we  do  in   some  measure  persuade 


and  assure  ourselves*  that  Christ  and  hit 
salvation  are  ours. 

As  faith  is  such  a  persuasion  of  the 
heart,  and  such  a  reception  of  Christ,  it  as- 
sures the  soul  of  salvation  by  its  own  act, 
antecedent  to  all  reflection  on  its  fruits  or 
eff'ects,  on  marks  or  evidences.  It  assures 
the  soul  of  acquittance  from  guilt,  and  re- 
conciliation to  God  ;  of  a  title  to  the  ever- 
lasting inheritance  ;  and  of  grace  sufficient 
for  every  case  of  need.  By  the  exercise  of 
this  faith,  and  the  enjoyment  of  these  bless- 
ings, we  are  sanctified ;  conscience  is  paci- 
fied, and  the  heart  purified ;  we  are  deli- 
vered from  the  dominion  of  sin,  disposed  to 
holy  tempers,  and  furnished  for  an  holy 
practice. 

Here,  I  apprehend,  our  author  will  ap- 
pear singular ;  this  is  the  place  in  which 
he  seems  to  go  quite  out  of  the  common 
road.  The  generality  of  serious  people 
look  upon  these  unspeakable  blessings  as 
the  reward  of  holiness,  to  be  received  aftei 
we  have  sincerely  practised  universal  holi- 
ness ;  not  as  necessary,  previously  neces  - 
sary,  to  perform  any  act  of  true  holiness. 
This  is  the  stumbling-block  which  our  le- 
gal minds,  dim  with  prejudice,  and  swollen 
with  pride,  will  hardly  get  over.  However, 
these  endowments  of  our  new  state  are,  in 
our  author's  opinion,  the  eff'ectual,  and  the 
only  effectual  expedient,  to  produce  sancti- 
fication. They  are  the  very  method  which 
the  eternal  Spirit  has  ordained,  for  our 
bringing  forth  those  "  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness which  are  by  Jesus  Christ  unto  the 
glory  and  praise  of  God,"  Phil.  i.  11. 
Whereas,  if  there  be  any  appearances  of 
virtue,  or  any  efforts  of  obedience,  which 
spring  not  from  these  motives  and  means 
of  practice,  Mr.  Marshall  treats  them  as 
"  reprobate  silver  ;"  he  cannot  allow  them 
the  character  of  gospel  holiness. 

This  is  the  plan,  and  these  are  the  lead- 
ing sentiments  of  the  ensuing  treatise.  To 
establish  or  defend  them,  is  not  my  aim. 
This  is  attempted,  and  I  think  executed,  in 
the  work  itself.  My  aim  is,  only  to  exhi- 
bit the  most  distinguishing  principles  in  one 
sketch  and  clear  point  of  view,  that  the 
reader  may  the  more  easily  remember  them. 


*  It  is  not  by  this  expression  affirmed  or  insinuat- 
ed, that  we  are  able  to  produce  faith  in  ourselves  by 
any  power  of  our  own.  This  self-sufficiency  the  au- 
thor has  professedly  and  frequently  tlisclaimcd,  as- 
serting, that  "  the  Spirit  of  God  habitually  disposes 
and  inclines  our  liearts  to  a  right  performance  of  this 
most  important  act." — This  manner  of  speaking  is 
used,  I  imagine,  for  two  reasons:  lo  point  out  the 
first  and  chief  work  which  we  are  to  be  doing,  inces- 
santly and  assiduously,  till  our  Lord  come:  To  re- 
mind us,  that  we  must  not  expect  to  have  faith 
wrouglit  in  us  by  some  fatality  of  supernatural  oper- 
ation, without  any  application  or  cndearour  of  our 
own;  but  that  we  inust  make  it  our  diligent  endea- 
vour, and  our  daily  business,  to  believe  in  Christ. 
We  must  "  laboiir  to  enter  into  this  rest,  and  show 
all  diligence  to  the  full  assurance  of  hope." 


and  by  this  kry  enter  the  more  perfectly 
into  the  writer's  meaning.  Let  him  tiiat  is 
spiritual  (1  Cor.  ii.  15,)  judge,  and  reject 
or  admit,  as  each  tenet  shall  appear  to  cor- 
respond or  disagree  with  the  infallible 
word.  Only  let  candour,  not  rigour,  fill 
the  chair  ;  and  interpret  an  unguarded  ex- 
pression, or  a  seemingly  inconsistent  sen- 
tence, by  the  general  tenor  of  the  discourse- 
We  are  not  to  expect  much  pathos  of 
address,  or  any  delicacy  of  composition. 
Here  the  gospel  diamond  is  set,  not  in  gold, 
but  in  steel — not  where  it  may  display  the 
most  sprightly  beam,  or  pour  a  Hood  of 
brilliancy,  but  wliere  it  may  do  the  most 
signal  service,  and  afford  a  fund  of  useful- 
ness. Neither  is  this  book  so  particularly 
calculated  for  careless  insensible  sinners,  as 
for  those  who  are  awakened  into  a  solici- 
tous attention  to  their  everlasting  interests, 
who  are  earnestly  inquiring,  with  the  Phi- 
jippian  jailor,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  sav- 
ed ?"  Rom.  viii.  24 ;  or  passionately  cry- 
ing, in  the  language  of  the  apostle,  "  O 
wretched  man  that  I  am  !  who  shall  deli- 
ver me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ?"  Roi.'.. 
vii.  2-i.  If  there  be  any  such,  as  no  doubt 
there  are  many  in  the  Christian  world,  I 
'  would  say,  with  regard  to  them,  as  the  Is- 
ruelitish  captive  said  concerning  her  illus- 


MARSHALL  RECOMMENDED.  C-21 

trious  but  afflicted  master,  "  Would  God 
my  master  were  with  the  prophet  in  Sa- 
maria ;  for  he  would  recover  him  of  his 
leprosy,"  2  Kings  v.  .3.  O  that  such  per- 
sons were  acquainted  with  the  doctrines, 
and  influenced  by  the  directions,  contained 
in  this  treatise !  They  would,  under  the 
divine  blessing,  recover  them  from  their 
distress,  and  restore  them  to  tranquillity  ; 
they  would  "  comfort  their  hearts,  and 
thereby  establish  them  in  every  good  word 
and  work."  2  Thess.  ii.  17. 

Ent  I  am  going  to  anticipate  what  the 
following  extract  speaks."  I  shall  there- 
fore only  add  my  hearty  wishes,  that  you 
may  meet  with  encouragement  and  success 
in  the  publication  of  this  truly  valuable 
piece.  Since  there  is,  in  this  instance,  an 
evident  connexion  between  your  private  in- 
terest and  the  general  good,  I  think  you 
may  promise  yourself  the  approbation  and 
acceptance  of  the  public,  as  you  will  assur- 
edly have  all  the  support  and  assistance 
that  can  be  given  by,  Sir,  your  humble  ser- 
vant, J.  HERVEY. 


»  This  extract,  or  the  recommendation  given  of 
this  excellent  book,  entitled.  The  Goipel  Mi/xtery  uf 
Saiivtijii-atiiin,  is  to  be  found  in  our  author's  works, 
p.  440,  note. 


Weston-Favkl,  near  Northampton, 
Nov.  5,  17Jo. 


>:n'j  or  THF.aoN  and  AsrABio. 


SERMONS 


ON 


SEVERAL  IMPORTANT  SUBJECTS. 


PREFACE 


The  following  two  Sermons  have  been 
judged  too  excellent  to  be  suppressed. 
They  were  preached,  according  to  the  best 
information,  at  Biddeford,  in  the  year  1743. 
As  to  their  authenticity,  they  carry  in 
themselves  the  strongest  internal  evidences 
of  their  being  genuine.  Whoever  reads 
them,  will  know  who  wrote  them.  "  Cele- 
brated writers,"  as  this  excellent  author  ob- 
serves elsewhere,  "  have  a  style  peculiar  to 
themselves."  This  was  eminently  true  of 
himself.  His  performances  (some  of  his 
letters  excepted,  written  in  the  younger 
part  of  his  life)  are  indeed  "  as  apples  of 
gold  in  pictures  of  silver  ;"  transmitting  the 
most  precious  truths  through  the  channel 
of  the  most  elegant,  correct  expression,  and 
adorning  the  doctrines  of  God  our  Saviour 
with  all  the  heightening  graces  of  exquisite 
composition.  When  Hervey's  pencil  gives 
the  drapery,  truth  is  sure  never  to  suffer  by 
appearing  in  an  ill  dress.  His  prose  is,  in 
general  more  lovely  and  harmonious,  more 
chastely  refined,  and  more  delicately  beauti- 
ful, than  half  the  real  poems  in  the  world. 
With  Hervey  in  their  hands,  his  delighted 
readers  will  nigh  find  themselves  at  a  loss 
which  they  shall  most  admire — the  subli- 
mity and  sweetness  of  the  blessed  truths  he 
conveys,  or  the  charming  felicity  of  their 
conveyance.  There  is,  if  the  terui  may  be 
allowed,  a  sort  of  family  likeness  discerni- 
ble in  all  this  author's  pieces.  You  disco- 
ver the  lively  signatures  of  the  parent  in 
every  one  of  his  offspring.  They  not  only 
carry  the  superscription  of  his  name,  but 
likewise  bear  the  image  of  his  genius,  and 
are  himself  at  second-hand.  A  mong  others, 
the  ensuing  performance  may  be  consider- 
ed as  a  transparent  medium,  a  screen  of 
crystal,  through  which  t!ie  original  writer  is 


distinctly  seen,  and  known  from  every  other-, 
a  circumstance  which,  with  me,  has  more 
convincing  weight  than  the  extrinsic  attes- 
tation of  a  thousand  witnesses. 

The  copy,  from  which  these  sermons 
are  printed,  was  lately  transmitted  to  me 
for  publication,  by  a  most  valued  friend  of 
Exeter.  I  deem  it  a  particular  happiness 
that  so  choice  a  treasure  should  pass,  through 
my  unworthy  hands,  to  the  church  of  God. 
And  J  rejoice  the  rather,  as  I  have,  by  this 
means,  an  opj)ortunity  of  doing  myself  the 
honour  to  bear  the  most  open  and  public 
testimony  to  that  grand,  fundamental,  ines- 
timable doctrine  of  a  sinner's  "  full,  free, 
and  final  justification,  by  the  alone  obedi- 
ence and  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ  the 
righteous. " 

I  shall  not  detain  the  evangelical  reader 
from  this  feast  any  longer  than  just  to  as- 
sure him,  that  neither  my  excellent  friend, 
who  communicated  the  copy  to  me,  nor 
myself,  who  communicate  it  to  the  world, 
propose  to  ourselves  any  sort  of  pecuniary 
advantage  from  this  j)ublication  ;  nor  will 
we  accept  of  any,  should  the  sale  be  ever 
so  great. 

Respect  for  the  memory  of  that  holy  man 
of  God  who  preached  these  sermons,  and  .a 
hope  of  their  being  made  useful  to  such  as 
read  them,  were  the  motives  which  induced 
us  to  send  them  abroad.  One  would  wish 
to  gather  up  the  very  fragments  that  remain 
of  so  distinguished  a  writer,  and  that  no- 
thing so  apparently  calculated  for  general 
benefit  might  be  lost. 

I  thought  it  necessary  to  add  two  or  three 
occasional  notes,  of  whose  propriety  the 
reader   will  judge  for  himself. 

Augustus  Toplady. 


Wesfmiiister,  Jult/  8,  ITGS. 


SERMON    I. 


MANY  MADE  RIGHTEOUS  BY  THE  OBEDIENCE   OF  ONE. 


Two  Sermons  Preached  at  Biddrjhrd,  1743. 


UoM.  V.  in. — "  By  the  obedience  of  One  shall  many  be  made  '■iijhteous." 


"  By  the  works  of  tlie  law  shall  no  miin 
.iving  be  justified,"  was  not  long  ago  the 
subject  of  a  public  discourse  ;  and,  I  hope, 
has  frequently  been  the  subject  of  our  private 
consideration.  O  that  tlie  important  truth 
may  be  wiitten  most  intclli<;ibly  upon  our 
hearts,  and  beget  in  us  a  sotuid  humility  and 
an  evangelical  [)overty  of  spirit  !  We  then 
pulled  ujj  the  wrong  foundation  ;  atul  now 
permit  me  to  establish  the  right.  We  then 
warned  you  of  the  sandy  foundation;  and  now 
permit  me  to  lead  you  to  the  Rock  of  ages, 
where  you  may  safely  re))ose  all  your  confi- 
dences, and  build  with  the  utmost  security 
for  a  blissful  eternity.  This  is  pointed  out 
in  the  scripture  before  us  ;  which,  though 
concise  in  its  expressions,  is  rich  and  co- 
pious in  its  meanings,  and  breathes  the  very 
spirit  of  the  gospel. 

"  ]5y  the  obedience  of  One  shall  many 
he  made  rigiiteous."  Tlie  One  mentioned  in 
the  text,  is  the  man  Christ  Jesus.  The  obedi- 
ence, spoken  of,  includes  both  his  active 
and  passive  obedience  ;  the  labours  of  his 
life,  and  the  agonies  of  his  death  :  all  which 
he  exercised  and  suffered  in  conformity  to 
his  Father's  will,  fur  the  sake  of  fallen  men  ; 
tliat  they,  by  his  righteousness,  might  be 
made  righteous  ;  that,  having  these  creden- 
tials, they  may  be  admitted  into  the  court  of 
heaven  ;  and  carrying  tliis  passport,  may  be 
admitted  into  "  the  eveilastiiig  habitations." 
Tliis  doctrine  I  take  to  be  the  most  sweet 
and  prei'ious  ])art  of  our  Christian  faith  ; 
that  which  gives  the  most  ])ure  nnd  undivid- 
ed honour  to  (Jod  ;  which  yields  the  most 
reviving  and  solid  comfort  to  the  sinner ; 
and  in  the  most  endearintr and  eifectual  man- 


ner promotes  every  interest  of  holiness. 
But  as  much  as  it  is  little  understood  by 
some,  entirely  exploded  by  others,  and  scarce 
ever  thought  upon  by  more  ;  let  us  crave 
your  impartial  attention  while  I  clear  up  and 
confirm  it  :  and  not  only  crave  your  atten- 
tion, brethren,  but  implore  the  renewing  and 
enlightening  influence  of  divine  grace  ;  with- 
out which,  I  am  aware,  my  words  will  be 
unintelligible  to  some,  and  appear,  perhaps, 
ridiculous  to  others  ;  for  "  the  natural  man 
discerneth  not  the  things  which  are  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  ;"  on  the  contrary,  "  they  are 
foolishness  unto  him."  Depending,  there- 
fore, on  divine  grace,  let  us  examine, 

I.  How  the  obedience  oi  another  can  make 
us  righteous. 

I I.  How  sufficient  Christ's  obedience  is 
for  this  purpose. 

I I I.  How  worth]!  this  method  of  becom- 
ing righteous  is  of  uU  acceptation  ;  and  then, 

IV.  Give  some  few  directions,  that  may 
dispose  us  to  rely  on,  and  prepare  us  to  re- 
ceive the  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ. 

I.  Let  us  examine  how  the  obedience  of 
another  can  make  ris  lighteous.  This  jjoint 
may  be  proved  and  illustrated, 

1 .    From  the  nature  of  a  surety. 

•1-  From  Christ'a  dying  as  a  sinner  for 
us. 

.*}.    From  Adam's  sin  being  imputed  to  us. 

1 .  Tiie  doctrine  of  our  being  made  right- 
eous through  the  obedience  of  Christ,  may 
be  i)roved  and  illustrated  from  the  nature  of 
a  surety,  who  is  one  that  undertakes  and  en- 
gages for  another.  Let  us  suppose  the  par- 
2s 


:\IANY  MADE  RIGHTEOUS 


ties  were  Paul  and  Oncsimiis.  Oiiesimiis 
was  Philemon's  slave.  The  slave  disobey- 
ed his  master,  ran  away  from  him  and  bis 
service.  Not  only  deserted  his  service, 
but  stole  his  goods  ;  turned  fugitive  and 
thief  at  once.  For  the  first  of  these  crimes 
he  deserves  stripes  and  a  rod ;  for  the 
last,  death  and  the  gallows.  St.  PaiJ  meet- 
ing with  Onesimus,  learns  the  state  of  his 
condition  ;  and,  having  been  the  means  of 
his  conversion  to  Christianity  by  his  preach- 
ing, and  of  his  reconciliation  to  God  through 
Jesus  Christ,  offers  to  become  his  mediator 
with  his  offended  master.  In  order  to  exe- 
cute which  ofHce  more  effectually,  he  puts 
himself  in  the  '.Timinal's  stead,  becomes 
answerable  for  his  viUany,  and  takes  upon 
him  to  make  full  reparation  for  the  injuries 
he  had  done  to  his  master:  "  If  he  hath 
wronged  thee  ought,"  says  the  beneficent 
apostle,  "  or  oweth  thee  ought,  put  that  to 
thy  account ;  I  Paul  hnye  written  it  with 
mine  own  hand,  I  will  repay  it."  By  this 
means,  the  renegade  slave  is  discharged,  and 
Paul  the  innocent  apostle  becomes  debtor. 
But  how?  Not  actually  but  imputatively  ; 
for  neither  has  Onesimus  i-epaid,  nor  Paul 
stolen  ought ;  but,  by  virtue  of  the  under- 
taken suretyship,  Onesimus's  debt  lies  upon 
Paul,  and  Paul's  freedom  turns  to  the  ac- 
quittance of  Onesimus. 

Thus  it  is  in  the  matter  of  justification. 
We  had  all  sinned  in  Adam  ;  forfeited  the 
f  ivour  of  God.  In  order  to  our  reconcile- 
rrient,  God  required  a  full  satisfaction  to  his 
justice,  and  a  perfect  obedience  to  his  laws. 
These  we  could  not  possibly  render  in  our 
own  persons ;  therefore,  Christ  graciously 
presented  himself,  and  undertook  to  perform 
both  in  our  stead.  Upon  ?«e,  says  thecom- 
j)assionate  Redeemer,  upon  me  be  their  of- 
fences laid.  If  they  have  transgressed,  let 
vengeance  make  its  demands  on  me  ;  I  will 
repay  to  the  very  utmost  farthing ;  and  for- 
asmuch as  through  the  weakness  of  their 
mortal  nature,  tliey  are  not  able  to  yield  an 
exact  conformity  to  the  divine  laws,  I  am 
willing  to  "  fulfil  all  righteousness,"  in  their 
stead  and  I'ehalf.  '•  Lo  !  I  come  to  do  thy 
will,  O  ray  God  !"  I  do  it,  not  for  myself, 
but  for  them,  that  the  merit  of  my  obe- 
dience may  redoimd  to  my  people,  and  tluit 
they,  through  my  righteousness,  may  be 
made  righteous. 

2.  1'he  doctrine  of  our  being  made  right- 
eous through  Christ,  may  be  inferred  from 
liis  dying  as  a  sinner  for  us.  It  is  a  very 
remarkable  passage,  and  full  to  our  purpose, 
where  the  apostie  declares,  that  the  A\- 
raighty  Father  made  his  Son,  "  v.-ho  knew 
no  sin.  to  be  sin  for  us,  that  we  might  be 
made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him" 

How  you  may  he  affected  at  present  with 
such  a  scripture,  brethren,  I  cannot  deter- 
mine ;  but  if  ever  you  come  to  the  know 


ledge  of  yourselves,  and  the  heinousness  of 
your  sins,  and  the  worthlessness  of  your  du- 
ties, such  a  text  will  be  sweeter  to  you  than 
the  honey  or  the  honey-comb  to  your  ta«te, 
and  more  refreshing  than  the  richest  cordial 
to  your  souls.  However,  from  St.  Paul's 
declaration,  we  gather  this  precious  truth, 
that  we  are  made  richteous  before  God,  in 
such  a  manner  as  Christ  was  made  a  sinner 
for  us  :  not  by  any  personal  demerit  ;  for 
he  had  done  no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found 
in  his  mouth  ;  but  "  the  Lord  laid  on  Itirn 
the  iniquities  of  us  all." 

In  like  manner,  how  are  the  greatest 
saints  made  righteous  before  God  ?  Not  !)y 
any  persona!  merit.  They  have  done  no- 
thing that  can  deserve  Good's  love,  or  that 
is  worthy  of  a  reward  ;  but  God  looks  upon 
them  as  interested  in  his  dear  Son's  obedi- 
ence, and  so  rewards  them  purely  for  their 
Saviour's  sake.  God  visited  our  sins  upon 
him;  and  God  rewards  his  merits  upon  us: 
God  accounted  our  transgressions  to  be 
his  ;  and,  on  this  footing,  he  was  piniished 
as  a  malefactor :  and  God  esteems  his 
righteousness  as  ours  ;  and  by  virtue  of  this 
imputation,  we  are  accepted  as  complete. 

3.  Once  again,  the  doctrine  of  our  being 
made  righteous  through  the  obedience  of 
Christ,  may  receive  stronger  proofs  and 
fuller  illustrations  from  Adam's  sin  being 
imputed  unto  us.  This  is  an  undoubted 
truth,  written,  as  it  were,  with  a  sunbeam 
in  almost  every  page  of  Scripture.  St. 
Paul  assures  us  that  "  in  Adam  all  die." 
And  if  so,  it  is  certain,  that  in  Adara  all 
sinned.  Tell  me  now,  how  t;ame  that  per- 
sonal sin  of  Adam  to  be  charged  upon  us  ? 
how  can  his  having  eaten  the  forbidden  fruit, 
render  us  liable  to  death  and  damnation  ? 
flow,  but  by  imputation  ?  Adam  was  a 
public  person ;  he  represented  the  wliole 
race  of  mankind  ;  his  act  was  imputed  to 
his  whole  posterity.  Such  a  communion 
there  is  between  Christ  and  his  elect :  he, 
too,  was  a  public  person  ;  he  was  a  repre- 
sentative of  all  his  chosen  ones;  and  his 
obedience  is  looked  upon  as  theirs.  Thus 
believers  are  made  righteous  by  the  obedi- 
ence of  their  everlasting  head,  Christ  Jesus, 
even  as  they  were  made  sinners  by  the 
transgression  of  their  mort.d  father,  Adam  ; 
because  i)f  the  analogy  and  similitude  there 
is  between  his  righteousness  to  justify,  and 
Adam's  iniquity  to  condemn." 


*  Mr  Hervey  spems  here  to  liave  had  an  eye  to 
I  Cor.  XV.  22.  "For  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in 
r'lri.et  shall  all  be  made  alive."  The  '^^v'^;,  or  oil, 
affirmed  by  the  apostle  to  have  died  in  Adam,  arethe 
same  -TravTi:,  or  nil,  that  shall  be  made  alive  in 
Christ;  namely,  all  the  members  of  Christ's  invstic 
body ;  all  that  church  which  he  loved,  and  for  which 
hegavehimself  to  death.  There  are  two  reasons,  in 
particular,  which  determine  the  meaning  of  the  wor-i 
all,  in  this  passage,  to  the  elect,  and  to  them  only  :  1. 
Throughout  the  whole  context  St.  Paul  treats  solely 
of  the  hrst  resurrection  ;  the  resurrection  of  the  just. 


BY  THE  OBEDlExXCE  OF  ONE. 


627 


Let  lis  nnw  make  a  pause,  ajiJ  review 
our  attempt.  We  have  endeavoured  to  ren- 
der tbe  doctrine  of  the  text  somewhat  clear- 
er, by  considering  the  nature  of  a  surety, 
from  Christ's  being  made  "  sin  for  us,"  and 
from  the  "  imi)utcition  of  Adam's  ofTence" 
to  us.  But  these,  alas  !  are  points  little 
known  to  tbe  world.  Corrupt  nature  i.s 
prejudiced  against  them,  and  Satan  is  stu- 
dious to  hide  them  from  our  eyes.  Let  us 
beseecli  "  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ"  to  reveal  the  "mystery  of 
godliness"  ill  our  hearts,  that  we  may  be- 
lieve in  Jesus  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God. 
.'uid  only  Saviour  of  the  world  ;  "and  that 
believing,  we  may  have  life,"  not  through 
any  fancied  goodness  of  our  own,  but  en- 
tirely "  through  liis  name." 

II.  Let  us  now  just  tnke  notice,  how 
suflicient  Christ's  obedience  is  for  the  pur- 
pose of  justirication.  It  is  a  most  incom- 
parably excellent  obedience  -.  it  exceeds  not 
only  the  righteousness  of  innocent  and  up- 
right Adam,  but  the  righteousness  of  an- 
gels, ))rincipalities,  and  powers.  Extol  this 
righteousness  as  high  as  words  can  reach, 
or  ideas  soar  !  for  it  is  the  righteousness  of 
incarnate  Divinity;  wrought  out  by  Itim 
who  was  God  and  man  in  one  Christ  ,• 
whose  divine  nature  gave  an  infinity,  both 
of  efiicacy  and  of  dignity,  to  all  he  did. 
"  'I'o  you  that  believe"  the  Godhead  of  Jc- 
■'lux,  his  righteousness  must  needs  be  incon- 
ceivably precious  -.  you  will  not,  you  cannot 
think  it  strange,  that  a  v.'hole  \^orld  of  be- 
lievers should  be  acce])ted  through  it,  and 
owe  all  their  salvation  to  it.  The  prophet, 
in  the  most  express  terms,  sets  his  seal  to 
this  truth  when  he  affirms,  that  the  Lord, 
the  supreme  and  incomprehensible  ^e/ioiv/A, 
is  "our  righteousness:"  and  who  would 
forsake  the  "  everlasting  Bock,"  in  order  to 
lean  on  a  bruised  reed  ?  who  would  quit  an 
illustrious  roftfi,  for  scanty  covering  and  filthy 
rags?  St.  Paul  accounted  "all  things  but 
loss,"  in  comparison  of  Lis  Saviour's   righ- 


teousness. Yea,  his  own  emirient  holiness, 
and  transcendent  usefulness,  he  regarded  no 
more  than  dross  and  dung,  that  he  might 
"  win  Christ  and  be  found  in  Him."  This 
is  the  righteousness,  whose  influences  ex- 
tend to  the  earliest  days,  and  will  reach  to 
the  most  distant  ages.  By  this  the  holy 
men  of  old  enjoyed  the  favour  of  God  ;  l)y 
this  alone  the  generations  yet  unborn  will 
enter  into  their  master's  joy.  In  a  word, 
tliis  is  the  "  hope,  the  sure  and  sole  hope  of 
all  the  ends  of  the  earth,  and  of  them  that 
remain  in  the  broad  sea, :"  for  in  every  na- 
tion under  heaven,  and  through  all  the  re- 
volutions of  time,  God  is  well  plea.sed  with 
sinners  only  in  his  beloved  Son.  Let  me 
draw  one  remark  from  the  whole,  and  I 
have  done.  Let  me  observe  the  difference 
between  the  law  of  vature,  and  the  law  of 
Moxes,  and  the  law  of  faith-  The  law  of 
nature  says,  "  Live  up  to  the  duties  of  thy 
reason,  and  the  conviction  of  thy  own  mind, 
and  thou  shalt  be  safe."  The  law  of  Mo. 
ses  saith,  "  Keep  the  commandments,  and 
execute  all  tlie  statutes,  and  thy  salvation 
shall  be  sure."  But  faith  saith,  "  Thou 
needest  not  attempt  these  imjiossibilities. 
Christ  hath  done  both,  hath  done  all,  in 
thy  stead.  He  hath  im])rovcd  the  light  of 
nature,  and  fulfilled  the  whole  law  of  God  ; 
and  this  in  the  capacity  of  thy  Surety." 
Go  then  to  thy  Redeemer ;  lay  hold  on  his 
righteousness.  Believe  truly  in  (yhrist 
Je:-us.  and  what  he  hath  done  shall  be  ac- 
counted thine.  Thy  eternal  felicity  is  al- 
ready procured.  Thou  hast  nothing  else  to 
do,  but  to  look  upon  it  as  thy  certain  por- 
tion, and  inalienable  inheritance,  through 
Christ ;  and  to  live  in  humble  and  cheerful 
expectation  of  tlsat  great  day,  when  thy 
free  title  shall  f)e  changed  into  actual  pos- 
session. And,  in  tiie  mean  time,  love  that 
divine  Beneftictor  with  all  thy  heart,  and 
study  to  ))ler.se  him  in  all  holy  conversation 
and  godlines.s. 


SERMON   II. 


KoM.  V.];).—"  By  the  obedience  of  One  shall  many  'oe  made  righteous." 


I.v  the  book  of  Job.  iv.  1,3 — 17,  we  have 
a    very    awakening  k.^son   of  humiliat.oji. 


the  resurrertioii  to  life  eternal.  He  says  not  one  word 
ill  this  chainprcoiueniiiif;  the  resurreition  of  the  un- 
godly ;  bur  confines  himself  Mii^ly  to  that  of  true  be- 
lievers. -2.  He,  iu  the  very  next  verse,  expressly  jioints 
out  the  persons  of  whose  resurrertion  he  heresj'taks : 
these,  he  tells  us,  are  "  those  that  belong  to  Christ, 
.nnd  are  his  own  peculiar  property;  who  were  given 
to  him,  by  tht-  railur,  in  the  covenant  of  redemption  ; 
and  in  whom  he  h.'is  a  aj<cc;;il  lUannsiible  interest." 


most  admiriibly  calculate^  to  iiiipi-ess  the 
thought,  and  to  jjring  down  the  conceited 
mind.  Eliphaz  relates  a  vision."  When 
midnight  drew  her  black  curtains  over  the 


•  In  the  present  sermon,  the  description  of  Eli- 
pbaz's  vision  rrsemblesi'the  ))rim3ry  fki'tch,  the  naked, 
imperfect  outlines  of  a  ni:^lerly  I'licture;  but,  in  the 
Conteinplations  on  the  .>isht,  v.i-  btliold  the  picture 
roinpleU'ly  linished  ;  and  touche<i,  1  h  id  almost  said, 
uiio  the  \  try  perfection  of  grandeur  and  beauty. 


628 


MANY  MADE  RIGHTEOUS 


world,  when  darkness  anddeep  silence  reign- 
ed tln'ougli  tbe  whole  universe,  in  these 
solemn  moments  a  spirit  passed  before  his 
face.  Fearfulness  and  astonishment  seized 
the  beholder  ;  his  bones  shivered  within  him ; 
his  Hesh  trembled  all  over  him  ;  and  the 
hairs  of  his  head  stood  erect  with  horror. 
Ill  the  midst  of  these  tremendous  circum- 
stances, a  voice  broke  forth  from  the  fieiy 
phantom — a  voice,  tor  its  importance,  wor- 
thy to  be  had  in  everlasting  remembrance  ; 
and,  for  its  awfiilness,  enough  to  alarm  a 
heart  of  stone.  It  spake  to  this  effect, 
"  Sliall  mortal  man  be  just  before  God  ? 
shall  a  man  be  pure  in  the  sight  of  his  Mak- 
er?" The  words  thus  translated  breathe  a 
wonderful  dignity  of  sentiment ;  and  lead 
our  minds  into  the  most  exalted  notions  of 
God  Almighty,  immaculate  and  inconceiv- 
able. Certainly  they  comprise  one  of  the 
most  powerful  antidotes  against  the  pride 
and  haughtiness  natural  to  fallen  man,  that 
can  possibly  be  imagined.  They  are  a  to- 
ken, in  this  sense,  truly  worthy  of  the  aw- 
ful Being  who  uttered  them,  and  that  air 
of  vast  importance  v.dth  which  they  were 
introduced.      Our  translation  sinks  the  idea 


not  wrought  hij  us,  but  imputed  to  us.  The 
natui'e  of  which  imputation  we  have  ah-eady 
illustrated,  and  sliown  the  sufficiency  of  our 
Redeemer's  obedience  for  this  purpose. 
Which  two  points  being  despatched, 

III.  lam  to  show  you  how  "worthy  of 
all  acceptation"  this  method  of  becoming 
rigliteous  is  ;  and  that,  as  it  is  perfectly  con- 
sonant to  the  ancient  prophecies ;  as  it 
gives  the  highest  glory  to  God  ;  and  as  it 
yields  the  richest  consolation  to  man. 

1.  This  method  of  becoming  righteous 
through  the  obedience  of  Christ,  is  per- 
fectly consonant  to  the  tenor  of  ancient  pro- 
phecies. In  the  patriarchal  age,  God  pro- 
mised to  Abraham,  and  renewed  the  gia- 
cious  assurances  to  Isaac,  "  that  in  his  seed 
all  the  nations  of  the  earth  should  be  bless- 
ed." Now,  what  was  this  but  a  discovery 
of  this  evangelical  doctrine  ?  It  was,  indeed, 
somewhat  obscure  then ;  but  it  is  clear  as 
the  day  now.  The  seed  of  Abraham  is 
doubtless  our  glorious  Mediator,  who,  in 
the  fulness  of  time,  took  flesh,  and  was 
born  of  a  descendant  from  Abraham,  In 
him  all  the  elect  under  heaven  shall  be 
blessed.      Observe,  not  in  themselves,  not 


exceedingly.    It  tells  us  no  more  than  what  I  for  any  excellency  that  is  in   them  ;  but  in 


all  the  world  must  acknowledge  at  the  very 
first  reflection  ;  and  so  scarce  deserves  to 
be  ushered  in  with  so  great  solemnity.  It 
seems  also  to  opjjose  what  no  one  can  de- 
ny, or  have  insolence  enough  to  maintain  : 
for  none,  I  sliould  imagine,  even  Lucifer 
himself,  could  ever  presume  to  think  him- 
self more  just,  more  pure,  than  the  original 
and  staiuliitd  of  all  perfections.  No  :  let 
a  person  be  esteemed  ever  so  just,  in  com- 
parison of  his  fellow-sinners  ;  let  him  be  ac- 
counted most  eminently  holy,  by  those  that 
are  i)olluted  clay  like  himself;  yet,  before  in- 
finite and  uncreated  purity,  O  let  him  be 
greatly  al-  ised  ;  let  him  put  his  mouth  in  the 
dust,  take  shame  to  himself,  and  cry  out,  "Un- 
clean !  unclean  !"  According  to  this  trans- 
lation of  the  words,  you  see  the  doctrine  of 
man's  universal  depravity  is  as  ancient  as 
the  times  of  Job  ;  and  that  there  is  no  pos- 
sibility of  being  justilicd  by  any  personal 
accomplishments  or  acquirements,  was  ex- 
pressly taught  in  those  early  ages. 

O  that  it  may  be  as  unfeignedly  believ- 
ed in  these  latter  days  ?  "  But  if  this  be 
the  case,"  says  an  inquisitive  hearer;  "if 
all  men  are  become  abominable ;  if  their 
best  deeds  are  stained,  and  there  are  none 
that  are  righteous  before  God,  no  not  one ; 
how  shall  they  be  accepted  when  they  are 
judged?"  Why,  by  u  method  that  lies 
vastly  beyond  the  reach  of  human  wisdom 
or  device.  15y  a  method,  that  was  hut 
dimly  liinted  at  in  the  generations  of  old, 
but  is  clearly  revealed  by  the  apostles  and 
preachers  ot  the  gospel  ;  even  by  the  obe- 
dience of  Jesus  Christ  •   by  a  righteousness 


liiin  they  shall  inherit  all  heavenly  blessmgs. 
He  is  the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  our  happi- 
ness ;  the  begirming  and  the  end,  the  cause 
and  the  consummation  of  all  our  joy.  He 
is  the  only  spring  and  fountain  of  all  bless- 
edness, as  much  as  yonder  sun  is  the  only 
loutitain  of  this  light  that  now  shines  around 
uSj  Eveiy  ray  of  light  that  falls  upon  our 
eyes,  proceeds  altogether  from  that  bright 
luminary ;  we  do  nothing  towards  enkind- 
ling it ;  we  only  use  its  beams,  and  rejoice 
in  its  splendour.  So  fallen  man  can  do  no- 
thing towards  procuring  the  favour  of  his 
almighty  Maker;  but  can  only,  by  faith  in 
Jesus  Christ,  receive  it,  already  prociu'ed  ; 
and  testify  his  gratitude  for  it,  by  a  cheer- 
ful obedience. 

In  the  prophet  Isaiah,  we  find  the  follow- 
ing passages.  God  the  Father,  speaking 
of  his  obedient  and  beloved  Son,  has  this 
remarkable  expression  :  "  By  his  knowledge 
shall  my  righteous  servant  justify  many." 
Here  infinite  Wisdom  informs  the  whole 
world,  how  they  mustexjiect  justification  and 
final  acceptance.  It  is  entirely  through  his 
dear  Son,  our  divine  Mediator  :  His  holy  life 
and  propitiatory  death  are  the  only  procur- 
ing causes  of  our  forgiveness,  the  only  con- 
ditions of  our  salvation  ;  and  a  true  know- 
ledge of  him,  a  right  belief  in  him,  make 
the  merit  of  both  our  own.* 


•  From  a  saving  knowleiige  of  Christ,  and  by  faith 
in  him,  we  are  manifestativeiy  interested  in  what  he 
lias  done  and  suffered.  Our  interest  in  his  righteous- 
ness must,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  have  been 
prior  to  our  sense  of  interest  in  it ;  otherwise  all  sense 
of  it  v/ould  be  deUisive,  and  conversant  with  a  non- 
entity. 


BY  THE  OBEDIENCE  OF  ONE. 


G20 


God  says  not,  he  shall  make  them  capa- 
ble of  reconciliation  ;  he  shall  in  part  justi- 
fy; he  shall  fill  up  their  deficiency,  and  per- 
fect what  is  wanting  in  their   duties.     No  ! 

out  he  shall  accomplish  the  whole  work  ;  he  ]  through  the  obedience  of  Christ,  is  worthy 
shall  execute  the  great  odice  without  a  ri-  of  all  acceptation,  because  it  administers 
val  ;  without  a  partner,  he   will  justify  the   the   richest   consolation    to  man  !  it   is  ai'. 


ing  man  to  the  deepest  humiliation,  even 
while  it  exalts  him  to  the  heaven  or  hea- 
vens ! 

3.   This  method   of  becoming   righteous 


faithful,  and  not  they  tl'.emselves. 

•J.   This  method  of  becoming  righteous, 
through  the  obedience  of  Christ,  is  worthy  | 


inexhaustible  spring  of  satisfaction  and  re- 
pose. 

Luther,    that   renowned   reformer,   and 


of  all  acceptation,  because  it  gives  the  great  champion  for  the  Protestant  cause, 
highest  glory  to  (iod.  Nothing  can  be  so  when  he  broke  away  from  the  mists  of  Po- 
effectually  calculated  to  abase  the  sinner, '  pery,  and  began  to  understand  this  most 
and  exalt  the  Saviour,  as  this  way  of  ob- |  noble  peculiarity  of  Christianity,  declared, 
taining  salvation.  This  will  bring  down  that  "  the  gate  of  Paradise  seemed  to  fly 
the  lofty  look  of  man  ;  this  will  lay  every  0])en  to  his  view  ;  that  he  had  a  glimpse  of 
assuming  thought  in  the  very  dust,  and  its  beauty  in  contemplating  this  sacred  truth, 
Jeave  the  Lord  alone  glorious  and  exalted,  i  and  a  taste  of  its  delights  in  believing  it ;  so 
This  thoroughly  secures  to  God  his  great  sweet  a  composure  and  such  a  charming 
prerogative,  and  utterly  excludes  human  tranquillity  did  it  diffuse  through  his  mind." 
boasting,  and  brings  unmingled  honour  and  Nor  do  I  wonder  at  his  saying,  "  for,  while 
glory  to  the  Surety  of  men.  Whereas,  was  we  are  ignorant  of  this  doctrine,  there  is 
life  eternal  the  reward  of  their  own  works,  nothing  but  horror  and  dread  around  us." 
there  would  be  some  pretension  for  self-  j  If  we  strike  this  text  from  our  Bible,  or  this 
admiratiorr.  Merr  would  arrogate  some  of  article  from  our  creed,  all  is  dismal  and  dis- 
the  merit  to  themselves,   and   say  in   their  j  tressing.     Turn   which   way  you  will,   the 


hearts,  "  ^My  ])ower,  and  the  might  of  my 
hairds  hath  gotten  me  this  wealth."  If  they 
were  to  expect  the  blessing  of  the  eternal 
state  as  wages   which  they  have  earned,  O 


])i'ospect  is  uncomfortable.  If  we  look  to 
ourselves,  we  shall  find  misery  and  guilt;  if 
to  God,  nothing  but  indignation  and  dis- 
pleasure.    But  this  brightens  up  the  whole 


what  a  damp  would  this  strike  oir  their  [  scene.  Let  us  observe,  in  the  character  of 
thankfulness!  how  little  would  they  think 'a  feeble  Christian,  and  of  an  awakened  pro- 
themselves  obliged,  and,  indeed,  how  little  fiigate,  what  glad  tidings  the  gospel  is  by 
would  they  be  obliged,  to  God  their  Saviour  !  virtue  of  this  doctrine,  and  what  a  miserable 


on  this  footing  !  But,  when  saints  in  light 
view  their  heaveidy  iidieritaiice  ;  when  they 
survey  that  great,  exceeding  great  and  eter- 
nal weight  of  glory,  and  I'emember  that  they 
did  nothing  to  deserve  all  this  iiieffable  fe- 
licity ;  that  if  it  had  not  been  procured  en- 
tirely by  their  dying  and  obedient  Saviour, 
they  had  been  everlastingly  banished  from 
the  realms  of  blessedness ;  O  what  pure 
and  fervent  gratitude  must  this  inspire  tliem 
with  !  \\hat  an  emphasis  and  ardour',  while 
they  utter  that  devout  acknowledgment, 
"  Not  unto  us,  O  Lord  !  not  rmto  us,  but 
unto  thy  dear  and  adoi'able  name  be  the 
praise  !  We  were  etreuries  in  our  minds, 
and  by  our  wicked  wor-ks  ;  but  thou  hast 
redeeured  rrs  unto  God  by  thy  blood  :  all 
our  choicest  actions  were  ])olluted  and  im- 
clean  ;  but  thou  hast  worked  out  for  us  a 
perfect  and  everlasting  righteousness." 

Thus  will  adoration  aird  love  be  given  to 
the  Lamb  that  was  slairr ;  every  crown  will 
be  cast  low  before  the  thi'one,  and  wear 
this  hmnbling  motto,  "  Not  by  works  of 
righteousness  which  we  have  done,  but  ac- 
cording to  his  mercy  he  saved  us."  O  the 
depths  both  of  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
God  !  (ioodness,  in  establishing  such  a 
nrethod  of  salvation  for  us,  in  all  things  so 
well  ordered  and  sure !  Wisdom,  in  cutting 
off  all  occasion  of  self-glorying,  and  brlng- 


comforter  it  would  be  witiiout  it.  The  lan- 
girage  of  the  former,  in  his  private  medita- 
tions, must  proceed  in  some  such  inarmer 
as  this  :  "  Wherewithal  shall  I  come  befoi-e 
the  most  high  God?  Shall  I  oifer  him  my 
pious  services?  Alas!  they  are  miserably  defi- 
cient ;  they  issue  from  a  corrupt  stock,  and 
cannot  but  be  coiiupt  shoots.  I  have  done 
nothing  that  is  worthy  of  his  acceptance  ; 
how  then  shall  1  stand  in  his  sacred  presence! 
I  strive  to  be  perfect  and  entire,  and  wanting 
nothing ;  but  I  feel  myself  to  be  poor  and 
indigent,  and  wretchedly  defective.  O  whi- 
ther  shall  I  go,  but  to  him  who  is  appoint- 
ed for  this  very  purpose — that  the  bones 
which  are  bi-oken  by  misery  and  guilt,  may 
rejoice  ;  that  the  hands  which  hang  down 
through  self-condemnation  and  despondency 
may  be  lifted  up  ?  Thither  then  wdl  I  turn, 
frail  and  dispirited  as  I  am,  and  cast  all  my 
biuden  upon  the  Lord  .lesus  Christ ;  in  his 
unspotted  righteousness,  and  inirothing  else, 
can  the  sole  of  my  foot  find  any  rest.  When 
doidns  arise,  and  fear,  hke  a  gloomy  cloud, 
thickens  ai'ound  me,  this  Sim  of  righteous- 
ness shall  dissipate  the  gloom  iir  all  my  pil- 
grimage :  this  shall  be  my  constant  song ; 
in  all  my  anxieties  this  shall  be  my  only 
cordial  :  '■  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my 
soul,  and  wiiy  art  thou  so  disquieted  within 
me?     O  put   tliy  trust  in   Jesus  Christ !"' 


6."0 


MANY  MADE  RIGHTEOUS 


His  merits,  and  not  thine  o.vn  works,  are 
the  horn  of  thy  salvation  :  "  wliosoever  be- 
lieveth  in  him,  shall  not  be  confounded." 
And  as  for  the  poor  sinner  brought  to  a 
sense  of  his  enormous  crimes,  inethinks  1 
hear  him  bewailing  his  condition  in  some 
such  disconsolate  manner :  "  < )  wretched 
man  that  I  am  !  how  shall  I  attain  the  fa- 
vour of  God  ?  My  sins  are  multiplied  above 
number,  and  aggravated  beyond  expression. 
I  cannot  make  any  satisfaction  for  what  is 
past,  much  less  can  I  win  the  divine  good- 
will for  the  future.  I  am  polluted,  root  and 
branch  ;  what  can  I  do  ?"  Truly,  sinner, 
I  know  not  what  thou  canst  do,  unless  thou 
comest  to  Jesus  Christ ;  there  is  not  a  gleam 
of  hope,  or  a  grain  of  comfort,  in  all  the 
universe  besides.  If  thou  lamentest  thy 
folly,  and  seest  thy  undone  state,  "  with  the 
Lord  there  is  mercy,"  abundant  mercy,  and 
with  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  there  is  "plen- 
teous redemption."  H  thou  canst  rely  on 
Christ,  thy  iniquities  shall  be  done  away 
like  a  morning  cloud  ;  if  thou  canst  believe 
in  Him,  thy  debts  are  cancelled  through  his 
blood ;  and  that  which  thou  art  unable  to 
perform,  he  hath  fulfilled  for  thee.  See 
how  consonant  this  doctrine  is  1o  the  whole 
series  of  scripture,  ami  the  voice  of  ancient 
prophecies  !  See  what  an  unshared  revenue 
of  glory  and  thanksgiving  it  brings  unto  the 
blessed  God  ;  both  supporting  the  feeble 
Christian  amidst  all  his  infirmities,  and 
opening  a  door  of  hojje  to  the  awakened 
sinner,  notwithstanding  all  his  impieties  ! 
Surely,  then,  this  precious  doctrine  is  wor- 
thy of  all  acceptation  :  surely  we  have  rea- 
son to  receive  it  with  all  imaginable  thank- 
fulness !  But  lest  it  should,  after  all,  seem 
to  us  an  idle  tale,  rather  than  glad  tidings 
of  great  joy,  let  nie, 

IV.  Give  some  directions  that  may  dis- 
pose us  to  rely  on,  and  prepare  us  to  re- 
ceive, the  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ, 

First,  Bring  a  child-like  mind  to  the  con- 
sideration of  it.  Lay  aside  prepossessions, 
and  meekly  receive  the  ingrafted  word  with 
a  teachable  simplicity.  Let  us  sit  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus,  and,  like  very  little  children, 
learn  heavenly  wisdom  from  his  gosjiel.  If 
we  are  conceited  of  our  abilities,  and  lean 
to  our  own  understanding,  God  may  punish 
our  pride  by  leaving  us  in  the  dark ;  for  he 
"  hides  these  things  from  the  wise  and  pru- 
dent, and  reveals  them  unto  babes."  You 
must  acknowledge  your  natural  ignorance, 
and  implore  the  teachings  of  his  blessed 
Spirit ;  for  this  is  his  peculiar  office,  to  "  con- 
vince the  world  of  righteousness  ;"  that  is, 
to  convince  the  world  of  the  fulness  of  the 
Redeemer's  righteousness,  of  its  unsearch- 
aiile  riches,  and  of  its  absolute  siifliciency 
to  justify  his  people. 

^ccondli/.  If  you  would  not  be  oli".'nded 
at  this  doctrine,  get  a  deep  sense  of  "  your 


own  unrighteousness."  It  is  the  want  of 
this  conviction  that  indisposes  men  for  a 
reliance  on  Christ :  so  long  as  they  fancy 
themselves  "  rich  and  increased  in  goods," 
they  will  never  be  concerned  to  seek  the 
fine  gold  of  their  Saviour's  obedience. 
"  And,  indeed,  he  came  not  to  call  tha 
righteous  ;"  his  gospel  is  of  such  a  nature, 
that  the  self-justiciaiy  will  discern  no  come- 
liness in  it ;  it  will  feed  the  hungry  and 
"  poor  in  spirit"  with  good  things  ;  but  the 
rich,  and  those  that  are  "  righteous  in  their 
own  eyes,"  it  will  send  empty  a\\  ay. 

Labour  therefore  to  see  your  own  vile- 
ness,  and  then  the  merits  of  a  Saviour  will 
be  precious.  Be  sensible  of  your  own  na- 
kedness, and  then  the  robe  of  a  Redeem- 
er's righteousness  will  be  prized  indeed. 
Consider  yourselves  as  "  insolvent  wretch- 
ed bankrupts,"  who  have  nothing,  who  can 
do  nothing  that  is  s])iritually  good  ;  and 
then  the  perfect  obedience,  the  full  satis- 
faction of  your  divine  Surety,  will  be  "  as 
health  to  your  soul,  and  as  marrow  to  yoin- 
bones." 

Thirdhj,  Pray  for  faith.  It  is  faith  that 
isnites  to  Jesus  Christ.  By  faith  you  ai-e 
implanted  into  hini.  Faith  is  the  hand  that 
lays  hold  on  the  Saviour's  merits :  "  By 
faith  ye  are  saved,"  says  the  apostle.  This 
appears  to  the  soul,  the  great  salvation  pur- 
chased by  our  dear  Redeemer  ;  therefore, 
beseech  God  to  beget  in  you  this  lovely, 
and  lively  faith,  whereby  you  may  lay  boll 
on  Christ,  cleave  most  inseparably  to 
Christ,  and,  renouncing  every  other  refuge, 
lay  the  whole  stress  of  your  souls  solely  on 
Christ,  as  a  shipwrecked  mariner  relin- 
quishes all  his  sinking  cargo,  and  clings  on- 
ly to  the  planks  that  may  tioat  him  safe  to 
shore.  Seek  this  blessing  to  yourselves, 
brethren  ;  and  if  ever  I  forget  to  join  ir.y 
best  supplication  to  yours,  "  let  my  tongue 
cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth."  My 
'" heart's  desire  and  prayer  to  God,"  shall 
always  be,  that  you  may  "  believe  to  ihe 
saving  of  your  souls."  And  a  holy  con- 
versation v\'ill  be  a  sign  rmto  you  that  your 
faith  is  real.  A  life  of  sincere  holiness  can 
spruig  from  nothing  but  from  this  divine 
head,  Christ  Jesus.  "  By  this  shall  all  men 
know  that  ye  are  his  disciples,  if  ye  live  by 
his  Spirit,  and  walk  as  he  walked."  By 
this,  likewise,  your  own  consciences  may 
he  assured,  that  God  hath  given  you  an  in- 
terest in  his  dear  Son,  and  sent  him  to  bless 
you — if  be  has  "  turned  you  from  your  ini- 
quities, and  created  you  anew  unto  good 
works. " 

Give  me  leave,  at  the  close  of  all,  toa.sk 
you  with  all  simplicity.  Have  you  under- 
stood these  things  ?  do  you  believe  this  re- 
port ?  or  am  1  as  one  that  sjieaketh  a  j)aia- 
ble? 

If  any  be  of  t'lis  opinion    I  sh;dl  addrc.-s 


I 


BY  THE  OBEDIENCE   OF  ONE. 


631 


them  in  the  words  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Gal- 
•jtiaiis,  and  commit  them  to  enlightening 
grace.  The  apostle,  ineiilcatini^  this  very 
point,  and  persimdine  them  to  this  self-same 
l>elief,  says,  "  Brethren,  be  as  I  am,  for  I 
was  as  ye  are,"  Gal.  iv.  12.  Thus  the 
wonls  I  would  translate  ;  and  then  they  are 
veiy  pertinent  to  the  })ur])ose,  and  apjdica- 
ble  to  you  and  me  ;  and,  when  paraphras- 
ed, will  run  thus  :  "  I  do  not  wonder,  bre- 
thren, that  ye  are  prejudiced  afjainst  this 
doctrine.  I  myself  was  stronijly  possessed 
with  such  prejudices.  I  verily  thought 
that  my  own  righteousness  would,  at  least, 
bear  a  jmrt  in  procuring  my  acceptance  with 
the  eternal  Majesty.  Determined  I  was, 
in  some  measure,  '  to  staiul  on  my  own 
bottom  ;'  and  advance  my  plea  for  life  ever- 
lasting from  my  own  holy  endeavours. 
But  now  these  arrogant  resolutions  and 
vain  confidences  are  dropt.  I  now  disa- 
vow all  such  pretensions.  God  hath 
brought  me  to  a  sounder  mind.  And  as 
ye  have  been  partakers  with  me  in  my  mis- 


take, be  partakers  also  of  my  I'ighter  judg- 
ment. I  trusted  to  I  knew  not  what  : 
but  '  now  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believ- 
ed.' I  put  myself,  and  the  whole  of  my 
salvation,  in  my  adored  Immaiuiel's  hands  ; 
and  doubt  not  of  his  siifficiency  for  my  se- 
curity. Henceforward  I  set  my  heart  at 
rest,  not  because  I  have  ffone  through  such 
offices,  or  done  such  duties ;  but  because 
my  Redeemer  is  mighty  and  meritorious. 
'It  is  God,  the  incarnate  God,  that  justi- 
fies me  ?  who  is  he  that  shall  condemn  me  ?' 
Never,  ne\'er  shall  my  heart  cry  to  divine 
justice,  '  Have  patience  with  me,  and  I 
will  pay  thee  all  ;'  this  were  the  language 
of  gross  ignorance,  or  gieat  pi'esum|)tion. 
But  in  all  my  temptations,  in  every  discour- 
agement, this  shall  be  my  acknowledgment, 
this  shall  still  be  my  earnest  prayer,  The 
righteousness  of  thy  obedience,  most  bless- 
ed Jesus,  is  everlasting  ;  O  grant  me  an 
interest  therein,  and  I  shall  live."  Amen, 
amen  ;  so  let  it  be,  O  Lord. 


SERMON    III. 

THE  MINISTRY  OF  RECONCILIATION, 

Rqiresenling  the  benign  tendency  of  the  gospel;  and  that  it  is  the  friendly  office  of  ministers,  as  the  am- 
bassadors of  Christ,  to  press  men  with  all  imaginable  tenderness,  humility,  and  earnestness,  to  accept 
the  treaty  of  reconciliation,  as  established  in  him,  and  urged  by  him,  while  on  earth. 

Preached  at  the  Paiish  Church  of  All- Saints,  in  Nurthampton. 


2  Cor.  V.  18. — "  All  things  are  of  God,  who  hath  reconciled  us  to  himself  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  hath  given  to 
us  the  ministry  of  reconciliation." 


The  love  of  God,  that  supremely  glo- 
rious and  supremely  gracious  Being,  is,  of 
all  other  tempers;  the  most  delightfid  and  di- 
vine ;  a  sacred  llower,  which  in  its  early 
biul  is  happiness,  and  iti  its  full  bloom  is 
heaven.  To  p'ant  this  noble  jirinciple  in 
the  breast,  to  cultivate  its  groi\  ih,  and  bring 
it  to  maturity,  is  the  grand  end  of  all  reli- 
gion, and  the  genuine  fruit  of  faith  unfeign- 
ed. Angels  are  hajifiy,  because  the  love  of 
God  triumphs  eteriKilly,  and  without  a  ri- 
val, in  their  e.\alled  alFections.  True  be- 
lievers are  hajjpy,  becausu  the  love  of  God, 
in  a  prevailing  degree,  is  shed  abroad  in 
their  hearts.  Tlie  gospel  is  a  dispensation 
of  happiness,  because  it  discovers  the  su- 
perabundant loving-kindness  of  God  to 
man,  and  urges  the  most  engaging  motives 
for  our  ardiiit  love  to   his  almighty  IMajes- 

The   gospel   re])rescnts    the   great   God, 
not  only  as  bestow  ing  u])on  his  creatures 


all  the  good  they  enjoy,  but  as  effecting 
their  reconciliation  to  his  own  adorable  self, 
effecting  this  most  desiriible  ol  all  blessings, 
not  barely  by  \ouchsafing  a  pardon,  but  a 
pardon  procured  l>y  the  death  of  his  Son, 
and  by  this  enriching  circumstance,  infinite- 
ly e'  hanced,  arrayed  in  all  the  charms  that 
heaven  itself  could  give.  To  render  the 
purposes  of  his  love  more  effectual  and  ex- 
tensive, he  has  instituted  an  older  of  men 
to  publish  these  gl.id  tidings  ;  and  to  invite, 
yea,  to  beseech  the  world,  to  partake  of  the 
exceeding  riches  of  his  grace.  All  which 
the  apostle  has  ex])iis'-ed  in  my  text,  with 
his  usual  eneray  and  conciseness  :  "  All 
things  are  of  G(jd,  who  haih  reconciled  us 
to  himself  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  hath  given 
to  lis  the  ministry  of  ix'conciliatioii." 

From  whicli  words,  permit  me,  with  all 
that  simplicity  which  becomes  a  minister  of 
the  humble  Jesus, 

I.  To  enlarge  a  lillle  upon  tliat  glorious 


C3-2 

and  ainiaWe  representation  of  the  blessed 
God,  discoverable  even  by  the  light  of  na- 
ture, "  All  things  areof  him." 

II.  To  remind  you,  how  much  more  il- 
lustriously the  delightful  attributes  of  the 
Deity  are  displayed  in  the  accomplishment 
of  our  redemption  ;  in  that  "  he  hath  re- 
conciled us  to  himself  by  Jesus  Clhrist." 

III.  To  observe  the  benign  import  and 
beneficial  tendency  of  the  gospel  ministry, 
expressed  in  that  remarkable  clause,  "  lie 
hath  given  to  us  the  ministry  of  reconcilia- 
tion." 

First,  then,  let  me  enlarge  a  little  upon 
that  glorious  and  amiable  representation  of 
the  blessed  God,  discoveiable  even  by  the 
light  of  nature,  "  Ail  things  are  of  him." 
Heaven  and  the  heaven  of  heavens  are  his, 
with  all  their  hosts.  Thrones  and  domi- 
nions, principalities  and  powers,  all  the 
bappy  beings  that  sit  at  the  fountain-head 
of  felicity,  were  produced  by  his  power,  are 
supplied  with  blessings  from  his  hand,  and 
are  filled  with  joy  from  his  countenance. 
If  we  trace  the  various  emanations  of  com- 
fort and  advantage  that  refresh  our  lower 
world,  we  shall  find  reason  to  acknowledge 
with  the  Psalmist,  "  All  our  fresh  sprmgs 
are  in  God."  The  day  is  thine,  says  the 
same  sacred  writer,  and  the  night  is  thine  ; 
thou  hast  prepared  the  light  and  the  sun. 
The  magnificent  hmiinaries  in  the  sky  are 
lamps  of  the  Lord  ;  hung  up  on  high,  to 
dispense  the  cheering  gift  of  light  amidst 
all  the  families  of  nature.  The  interchanges 
of  night  and  day,  with  the  vicissitudes  of 
revolving  seasons,  are  his  ministers  ;  all  sent 
on  errands  of  kindness,  and  bringing  the 
most  valuable  presents  in  their  hands.  The 
innumerable  variety  of  living  creatures,  and 
of  nutrimental  vegetables,  are  the  portion, 
not  which  our  own  industry  has  procured, 
but  which  our  heavenly  Father's  bounty  has 
settled  upon  us. 

Every  great  endowment,  bestowed  on  the 
children  of  men  ;  every  noble  achievement, 
accomplished  by  renowned  personages ; 
these  derive  their  original  from  the  uncreat- 
ed Fountain  of  perfection  and  of  power. — 
If  Solomon  is  possessed  of  enlarged  wisdom 
and  kingly  qualities  ;  he  expressly  acknow- 
ledges, it  is  from  the  Lord,  superintending 
human  affairs,  that  such  kings  are  advanced 
to  reign  ;  and  by  the  Lord  enlightening  their 
minds,  that  such  princes  decree  justice.  If, 
at  one  period,  Nebuchadnezzar  pursues  his 
conquests  with  irresistible  impetuosity,  it  is 
to  scourge  the  offending  people  of  the  Lord, 
and  banish  idolatry  from  their  worship,  as 
the  driving  wind  swept  the  chaff  from  their 
floors.  If,  at  another  juncture,  Cyius  is 
equally  victorious,  and  "  comes  upon  princes 
as  upon  mortar,  and  as  the  potter  treadeth 
clay  ;"  it  was  the  Lord  of  hosts  that  raised 
^ip  this  accomplished  commander  from  the 


THE  MINISTRY 

East,  and  bid  him  execute  his  designs  of 
restoring  love  to  his  reformed  nation.  All 
those  arts  which  meliorate,  and  sciences 
which  embellish  life,  even  these  are  from 
the  Lord,  "who  is  wonderful  in  counsel, 
and  excellent  in  working." 

The  time  would  fail  me  to  enumerate 
particulars.  Whatever  is  beneficial  to  com- 
munities, or  comfortable  to  individuals ; 
whatever  springs  from  the  lain  of  heaven, 
or  is  produced  by  fruitful  seasons  ;  what- 
ever administers  to  the  improvement,  or 
cheers  the  heart  of  man ;  all,  all  acknow- 
ledge God  for  their  Author.  He  is  the 
giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift.  The 
whole  earth  is  filled  with  the  profusion  of 
his  beneficence.  And  where,  where  is';  the 
creature  that  has  not  tasted,  that  does  not 
subsist  on,  the  inexhaustible  stores  of  his 
bounty  ?  And,  though  afiliction  also  comes 
from  the  Father  of  our  spirits,  yet  this  is  no 
derogation  from  his  tender  mercies  ;  since 
he  chastens  not  with  an  arbitrary  severity 
but  with  a  parental  pity  ;  he  chastens  only 
to  amend  ;  and  these  light,  these  transient 
tribulations,  are  pieparatives  for  an  exceed- 
ing great  and  eternal  weight  of  glory. 

And  is  not  such  a  Being  worthy  of  our 
highest  admiration,  and  our  devoutest  love  ? 
Has  he  not,  by  such  ineffable  excellencies, 
such  immeasurable  benignity — has  he  not 
an  undoubted  claim  to  the  affections  of  our 
hearts,  the  praises  of  our  tongues,  and  the 
unintermitted  services  of  our  lives  ?  He  is 
the  source  of  all  our  good  ;  should  he  not 
also  be  the  centre  of  all  our  gratitude,  and 
of  our  whole  obedience?  But  our  obliga- 
tions will  rise  immensely  higher,  if  we  con- 
sider, 

Sccondlji,  How  much  more  illustriously 
the  delightful  attributes  of  the  Deity  are 
displayed  in  the  accomplishment  of  our  le- 
demption  ;  in  that  "  he  hath  reconciled  us  to 
himself  in  Jesus  Christ."  Man  was  creat- 
ed upright,  immaculate,  and  in  the  image  of 
God.  Heavenly  wisdom  shone  bright  in 
his  understanding,  iind  true  holiness  sat  en- 
throned in  his  heart.  But  how  soon,  how 
fatally,  did  he  fall !  from  what  height  of 
perfection,  to  what  depth  of  degeneracy  ! 
Since  that  destructive  transgression,  all  tlesh 
has  corrupted  his  way ;  every  man  is  become 
brutish  in  his  knowledge  ;  and  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  thoughts  of  his  heart  is  only  evil 
continually.  "  Our  iniquities  separated  be- 
tween us  and  our  God,  and  our  sins  hid  his 
face  from  us,"  as  from  an  abominable  ob- 
ject. Nay,  our  sins  accused  us  at  his  right- 
eous tribunal,  and,  like  the  blood  of  Abel, 
cried  to  heaven  for  vengeance.  Vengeance 
and  fiery  indignation  was  our  expected  doom, 
and  eternal  death  the  wages  due  to  our  of- 
fences. What  rendered  the  misery  ot  man- 
kind still  more  excessively  deplorable,  and 
only  not   desperate,   was,    that    they  ^^cro 


OF  RECONCILIATION. 


G3.3 


without  strength  ;  without  any  jjower  to  '  nude  of  the  congregation  to  intercede  be- 
niake  satisfaction  for  their  provocations,  or  fore  the  Lord.  See  Exodus  xxxiii.  8. 
extricate  themselves  from  this  aiiyss  of  wo.  j  We  have  seen  the  i)erson  reconciling,  let 
O  wretched,  wretched  man,  if  left  in  this  us  next  contemjilate  the  manner  of  recon- 
state  of  guilt  and  ruin  !  If  abandoned  by  ciling  :  A  subject  equally  astonisliing  and 
the  God  from  whom  thou  hast  ungratefully  '  delightful !  Ihe  Father  reconciled  us  to 
revolted,  better  had  it  been  for  thee  never  ,  himself,  by  laying  upon  his  Son  the  iniqui- 


to  have  existed. 


ties  of  us  all ;  by  admitting  him  to  stand  in 


But  behold  the  kindness  and  love  of  God  '  our  stead,  and  by  exacting  from  him  the 
our  Saviour  !  Hearken  to  tlie  sounding  of  punishment  which  he  had  incurred.  God 
his  bowels  and  of  his   mercies  tort-ard  us  !  ;  reconciled  us   to  himself,   not  only  by  the 


Ihave  seen,"  said  he,  (as  in  the  case  of  en 
slaved  Israel),  "  I  have  seen  the  affliction  of 
my  fallen  creatures.  They  have  undone 
themselves,  but  in  me  (  Hos.  xiii.  9,)  is 
their  recovery.  Satan  has  deceived,  and, 
deceiving,  has  destroyed  them  ;  but  I,  even 
I,  will  deliver  them."  AVherewithal  will 
the  Lord  accomplish  this  design  ?  By  his 
free  unmerited  goodness.  By  the  blood  of 
bulls,  or  of  goats,  or  of  all  the  cattle  upon  a 
thousand  hilis  ?  Contemptible  to  the  last 
degree  are  such  beggarly  oblations  ;  only, 
so  far  they  typify  the  all-glorious  sacritice. 
Was  an  angel  charged  with  this  important 
business,  or  the  highest  seraph  bidden  "to 
interpose  as  the  repairer  of  our  breach  ? 
The  angels  were  absolutely  incapable  of 
executing  so  great  a  work.  It  required  a 
far  abler  agent  to  negotiate  our  reconcilia- 
tion. It  nuist  cost  incom])aiably  more  to 
redeem  guilty  souls.  Theretore  the  God 
of  our  salvation  "laid  the  help  upon  one 
that  is  mighty."  He  appointed,  to  the  most 
momentous  of  all  offices,  the  most  illustri- 
ous of  all  beings  :  He  appointed  his  own 
Son,  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  and  the 
express  image  of  his  per.-on. 

Behold  then  the  Son  of  God  taking  our 
nature,  that  he  may  act  as  our  mediatoi' 
Admirable  constitution  !  full  of  wonder  and 
full  of  grace  !  How  joyful  to  the  sinner  ! 
The  work  must  infallibly  prosper  in  such 
hands.  Such  a  surety  cannot  fail  of  suc- 
ceeding in  all  he  undertakes.  How  gra- 
cious in  the  Father !  Could  there  be  a 
stronger  assurance,  or  a  more  emphatical 
demonstration  of  his  boundless  beiielicence, 
than  to  send  the  Son  of  his  bosom  ;  the 
Son  of  his  eternal  delight ;  the  Son  dearer 
to  him  than  all  worlds  !  How  condescend- 
ing in  the  Saviour  !  Would  Ahasuerus  ab- 
dicate   his    imperial    diadem,   or  the  great 


humiliation,  but  by  the  suffering  of  this 
Prince  of  heaven  ;  and  not  by  some  slighter 
sulfering,  but  by  his  sulFering  unto  death  ; 
and  not  by  his  undergoing  a  common  death, 
but  the  most  ignominious  and  tormenting  of 
all  deaths,  the  death  of  the  cross.  "  It 
pleased  the  Father,"  says  the  apostle,  "  to 
reconcile  all  things  to  himself;  making 
peace  by  the  blood  of  the  cross."  Because 
we  deserved  shame,  the  Lord  of  glory 
was  numbered  with  malefactors,  and  load- 
ed with  infamy.  Because  we  deserved  the 
bitterness  of  death,  the  Lord  of  life  endur- 
ed the  pangs  of  dissolution,  in  their  unabated 
and  most  racking  extremities.  Because  we 
were  obnoxious  to  the  curse  of  the  law, 
therefore  the  ever-blessed  "  Jesus  delivered 
us  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a 
cLUNc  for  us." 

Glorious  propitiation  !  and  altogether  as 
complete  as  glorious  !  What  now  shall  ter- 
rify the  true  believer?  What  shall  stand 
between  him  and  his  eternal  hopes?  Shall 
Satan  muster  up  his  accusations,  and  set 
them  in  frightful  array?  Yet,  though  there 
may  be  much  guilt,  there  is  no  condemna- 
tion to  them  that  are  in  Jesus  Christ.  Does 
the  law  take  the  guilty  mortal  by  the  throat, 
and,  with  its  rigorous  severity,  say,  "  Pay' 
nu!  that  thou  owest  ?"  It  is  paid,  I'ully  paiil 
by  llie  iatervention  and  suretyship,  not  of  a 
mean  man,  but  of  the  mighty  God  made 
flesh.  Does  divine  justice  demand  satis- 
faction for  the  wrongs  received  from  sin- 
ners? It  is  not  only  satisfied,  but  most 
awfully  glorified,  by  this  wonderful  oblation. 
In  short,  this  is  a  full,  perfect,  and  sullicient 
sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  It 
vindicates  the  honour  of  God's  holiness;  it 
disjjlays  his  unsearchable  wisdom  ;  it  mani- 
fests his  unutterable  goodness  ;  it  gives  the 
most   magnilicent   and  lovely  lustre  to  all 


ruler  of  Babylon  forego  the  honours  of  his  ]  the  divine  iierl'ections.  May  we  not  then, 
enlarged  dominions,  to  attend  on  the  wel-  '  looking  mito  (un-  bh  ediiig  Saviour,  and 
fare  of  some  ignoble  captive  that  grinds  at  j  ])leading  his  inestimable   propitiation,    ven- 


a  mill,  or  of  some  infamous  malefactor  that 
is  chained  in  a  dungeon?  Vvt  the  everlast- 
ing pcjtentate  of  heaven  and  universal  na- 
ture undertakes  a  more  humbling  oitice  of 
friendship,  for  a  race  of  abjei.'t  creatures, 
that  dwell  in  dust  and  were  doomed  to  hell. 
Let  every  child  of  Adam  look  unto  Christ 
by  faith,  as  all  the  jieojile  of  Israel  looked 
unto  Closes,  when  he  went  into  the  taber- 


ture  to  adopt  the  ajjostle's  challenge  ? 
"  Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to  the  charge  of 
God's  elect  ?  it  is  God  that  justifitlh,"  n;)t 
imputing  our  trespasses  unto  us,  but  trans- 
ferring them  to  his  dear  Son.  "  Who  is 
he  that  condemneth?  It  is  Christ  that 
died,"  and  by  liis  precious  death  hath  made 
reconciliation  for  inicpiity,  and  brought  in 
everlasting  rijiliteousnesj. 


634 


THE  MINISTRY 


I  have  been  the  more  copious  upon  this 
siihject,  because  it  is  not  only  the  grand 
puint  in  my  text,  but  is  the  very  heart  of 
the  gospel ;  the  fountain  of  all  our  com- 
forts, and  the  foundation  of  all  our  hopes, 
iuit  I  ])r()ceed,  and  with  preater  brevity, 

Tluidlii,  To  observe  the  benign  in)port 
and  beneficial  tendency  of  the  gospel  min- 
istry, expressed  in  that  remarkable  clause, 
"  lie  hath  given  to  us  the  ministry  of  re- 
conciliation." Here  I  am  not  attempting 
to  magnify  my  office,  or  to  aggrandize  the 
iTiinisterial  character ;  but  only  to  render 
our  services  acceptable  to  our  brethren. 
Some  persons,  whether  through  prejudice 
or  mistake,  are  apprehensive  of  being  terri- 
fied by  our  message,  "  or  tormented  before 
the  time"  by  our  doctrine.  But  can  the 
news  of  reconciliation  to  the  Lord  God  of 
hosts  terrify,  or  the  offer  of  remission  of 
sins  torment?  How  welcome  should  be  the 
approach,  or,  to  speak  in  the  elegant  lan- 
guage of  a  prophet,  "  how  beautiful  the  ftet 
of  him  who  bringeth  good  tidings  i"  And 
can  there  be  better  tidings,  more  reviving, 
or  more  transporting,  than  those  of  the 
everlasting  gospel?  which  saith  unto  Sion, 
"  Thy  iniquity  is  taken  away,  and  thy  sin 
purged  ;"  thy  God  is  reconciled  ;  and  in- 
stead of  abhorring  thee  as  a  rebel,  is  wdiing 
to  embrace  thee  as  a  child.  Vilien  our  ar- 
mies have  been  in  the  field,  and  some  very 
important,  some  decisive  engagement  draw- 
ing near;  with  what  eagerness  have  you 
expected,  and  with  what  delight  have  you 
received  the  account  of  complete  victory 
gained !  And  is  not  our  leport  equally 
worthy  of  all  accepration,  which  declares 
Satan  vanquished,  and  sin  destroyed  ;  de- 
clares death  abolished,  hell  deprived  of  its 
prey,  and  all  the  rich  advantages  of  peace 
with  heaven  restored  ?  When  Peter  lay 
bound  in  prison,  was  the  angel  an  unwel- 
come minister,  who  struck  away  his  fetters, 
opened  the  gates  of  iron,  and  transmitted 
him,  free  and  unmolested,  to  the  cordial 
salutatiotis  of  his  friends  ?  As  you  are  all, 
by  nature,  in  bondage  to  sin,  our  business 
is,  to  lake  you  by  the  hand,  and  lead  you. 
out  of  this  ignominious  slavery,  into  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God  ;  while 
the  Spirit  of  the  Most  High  breaks  off  your 
shackles,  and  makes  you  free  indeed.  \Vhat 
manna  can  be  more  refreshing  than  such  a 
message?  what  balm  more  healing  than 
such  a  service  ?  If  at  any  time  we  arm  our 
words  with  terror,  and  denounce  the  ven- 
geance of  God  on  every  soul  of  man  that 
doth  evil ;  this  is  only  to  awaken  you  fiom 
that  gay  insensibility  which  would  lull  you 

into  irretrievable   ruin.      It   is    like    the  ga-       »  Mr.  Hervev  had  added,  bv  way  of  a  note,  the 
thering   clouds,   and   the   distant    bursts   of  ;^^--^.,j;],«^;-Py/'^)f^};^^^^^^ 
tliunder,  which  might  warn  Noah   to  retire     '  ■  .... 

into  the  aik,  before  that  infinitely  more  tre- 
ineiidous  aeliige  came,  which  was  to  sweep  ^  capitulation.' 


the  careless  world  away.  Whether,  there- 
fore, we  display  the  allurements  of  divine 
love,  it  is  for  your  delight ;  or  whether  we 
bend  the  bow  of  divine  indignation,  it  is 
for  your  benefit — to  win  you  to  happiness, 
to  drive  you  from  misery.  So  that  in  every 
respect,  and  by  all  our  ministrations,  \^•e  are 
to  be  "  helpers  of  your  faith,  and  furtherers 
of  your  joy." 

And  let  not  any  one  suspect,  that  a  mes- 
sage of  such  free  and  rich  grace  has  a  ten- 
dency to  soothe  men  into  supineness,  or 
serve  the  cause  of  licentiousness.  It  is,  of 
all  oilier  exjjedients,  most  effectually  calcu- 
lated to  reconcile  us  to  God,  in  another 
sense  of  the  word  ;  to  subdue  our  enmity, 
and  captivate  our  perverse  affections ;  to 
impress  our  alienated  hearts  with  adoring 
gratitude,  and  engage  our  refractory  wills 
to  dutiful  obedience.  For,  can  we  be  cold 
;itid  indilTerent  to  such  immense  benignity  ? 
can  we  afiVont  and  grieve  such  unspeakably 
tender  kindness  ?  What  effect  had  David's 
clemency  in  sparing  Saul's  life,  when  it  v*"as 
in  the  power  of  his  hand  to  have  despatched 
that  implacable  enemy  ?  It  overcame,  for  a 
while,  even  malice  itself;  it  fetched  tears 
of  sorrow  from  the  persecutor's  eyes,  and 
expressions  of  the  most  endeared  affections 
from  his  lips.  1  Sam.  xxiv.  16.  And  when 
God,  the  God  to  whom  vengeance  belong- 
eth,  not  only  spares  us  guilty  wretches,  but 
punishes  his  immaculate  Son  in  our  stead ; 
when  he  bids  the  sword  of  justice  pass  by 
our  devoted  heads,  and  sheathe  itself  in  the 
heart  of  his  beloved  Son  ;  can  we  resist 
such  heavenly  goodness  ;  can  we  spurn  such 
bowels  of  mercy  ?  Must  not  love  so  divine 
and  infinite  melt  even  the  most  obdurate 
heart  ?  make  us  fling  down,  with  abhorrence, 
the  weapons  of  rebellion,  and  constrain  us, 
sweetly  constrain  us,  to  obedience  ?* 

Let  me  now,  conformably  to  my  sacred 
commission,  beseech  you  all  to  be  recon- 
ciled. Especially  let  me  beseech  the  hum- 
ble penitent,  and  the  haughty  self-righteous 
moralist.  Ye  humble  penitents,  that  are 
convinced  of  sin,  and  mourn  for  sin,  be  of 
good  comfort  :  God  has  abounded  in  the 
riches  of  his  grace  towards  you,  and  has 
given  you  a  ransom  to  rely  on,  of  higher 
dignity  than  all  heavens,  of  more  value  than 
all  worlds.  The  men  of  Tyre  made  Blas- 
tus,  the  king's  chamberlain,  their  friend, 
Acts  xii.  20 ;  the  God  of  glory  has  consti- 
tuted his  dear  Son  your  atoning  sacrifice, 
your  prevailing  advocate.  The  men  of 
Tyre  desired  conditions  of  peace  ;  the  Lord 


this  iernion,  I  recapitulated  in  this  place,  (as  you,  or 
any  reader  may  do  if  he  pleases,)  thepreceding  heads ; 
but  I  thouRhl  k  unnecessary  to  transcribe  such  a  re- 


OF  RECONCILIATION. 


635 


Je.-us  luith  both  obtained  and  fulfilled  the 
conditions  of  your  peace.  Could  there  be 
a  more  glorious  person  chosen  to  act  as 
your  reconciler,  than  the  Prince  of  heaven, 
und  heir  of  all  things  ?  Could  there  he  a 
more  elfectual  method  of  leconciliation, 
than  his  obedience  unto  death,  even  the 
death  of  the  cross  ?  Fly  then  to  this  all- 
sulhcient  lledeenier.  l»ely  on  his  most 
meritorious  and  satisfactoiy  sufferings.  Be 
your  sins  ever  so  nuincrous,  ever  so  enor- 
mous, these  need  be  no  bar  to  your  accept- 
ance. For  God  has  received  an  atonement ; 
an  infinite  atonement  God  has  received. 
So  ti>at  he  can  a(hnit  y'>u  to  iiis  favour,  un- 
worthy as  you  are,  without  the  least  ble 
mish  to  lus  avenging  justice.  He  can,  he 
will  admit  you  as  freely,  as  if  you  had  never 
done  amiss.  Trust,  therefore,  in  your  re- 
conciling Saviour.  Place  a  cheerful  confi- 
dence in  his  propitiating  merits.  Only  let 
the  grace  of  God,  which  has  appeared  \\iih 
such  transcendent  loveliness  in  the  bleeding 
Ji'sus,  let  this  grace  teach  you,  with  a  pre- 
vailing efficacy,  "  to  deny  all  ungodliness 
and  worldly  lusts,  and  to  live  soberly,  I'ight- 
t'ously,  and  godly,  in  this  present  world." 

As  to  those  of  a  contrary  character,  who 
pre  righteous  in  their  own  eyes,  what  shall 
1  say  ?  Shall  I  decry  the  exercise  of  mor- 
ality, or  disparage  the  duties  of  holiness  ? 
God  forbid.  The  gospel  is  a  doctrine  ac- 
cording to  godliness,  and  tiue  holiness  is 
the   licalth,    is  tlie  ha]ipiness  of  the  soul. 


I  These  duties,  issuing  from  faitii,  and  re- 
i  commended  by  the  intercession  of  Christ, 
are  acceptable  to  the  divine  Majesty.  But 
these  are  not  your  Saviour.  God  has  not 
reconciled  the  world  to  himself  by  their 
own  pious  practices,  but  by  his  Son  Jesus 
Christ,  ('an  your  charitable  deeds  expiate 
your  innumerable  ofFences '!  As  soon  may 
a  single  drop  of  juire  water  correct  and 
sweeten  the  unfathomable  brine  of  the 
ocean.  Can  your  defective  jjerforniances 
satisfy  the  demands  of  a  perfect  law,  or 
your  wandering  devotions  screen  you  from 
the  disi)leasure  of  an  injured  God  ?  As 
well  may  your  uplifted  hand  eclipse  the 
sun,  or  intercept  the  lightning  when  it 
darts  through  the  bursting  cloud.  There  is 
no  other  name  given  under  heaven,  where- 
by you  may  be  reconciled  to  God,  and 
saved  from  wrath,  but  only  the  name,  oidy 
the  name,  remember,  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Here  fix  your  hopes,  and  you  shall  never  be 
disappointed.  Fix  them  on  any  other  ob- 
ject, and  everlasting  confusion  will  ensue. 
We  beseech  you  therefore,  in  God's  stead, 
we  beseech  you  foi-  your  own  soul's  sake, 
leject  not  this  abimdant  mercy,  neglect  not 
this  great  salvation. 

Now  unto  Him  who  has  reconciled  us  to 
himself,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his 
Son's  blood,  be  glory  and  thanksgiving, 
love  and  obedience,  henceforth  and  for 
ever. 


A  Dkfu.nce,  by  R.  \.  of  the  foregoing  Sermon,  from  the  groundless  objections  raised  against  it  *jy  some 

inconsiilerate  readers. 


It  is  scarcely  credible  that  any  one  should 
assert,  that  ]\Ir.  Hervey's  posthumous  ser- 
mon on  the  "  Ministry  of  lleconciliatioii  is 
contradictory  to  the  Dialogues  in  TIteron 
and  Aspasio,  and  aHirm,  that  it  has  done 
injury  to  the  work."  But  such  an  assei- 
tion  is  easily  refuted.  This  complaint  is 
either  lodged  by  the  friends  or  foes  of  the 
deceased  :  If  by  his  friends,  then  I  suppose 
it  is  because  the  doctrine  of  imputed  right- 
eousness, which  makes  so  great  a  figure  in 
those  Dialogues,  is  not  mentioned  in  the 
sermon.  These  peojjle  would  <lo  well  to 
consider,  that  if  it  is  not  mentioned,  it  is 
strongly  implied;  and  what  is  strongly  iin- 
l)lie(l  m  this  place,  cannot  be  contradictory 
to  what  is  expressed  in  others.  In  that 
sermon,  do  we  not  read  in  the  strongest 
terms,  "  That  our  iniquities  are  imputed  to 
(Jhrist,  by  the  I'ather's  admitting  him  to 
stand  ill  our  stead,  and  exacting  from  him 
the  puni-hintnt  vviii<'h  we  had  inciu'red  ?" 
Ho  we  not  here  find  "  God  reconciling  us 
to  himscir.  not  only  by  the  humiliation,  but 
by  the  sufferings  of  tlie  I'rincu  of  heaven, 


and  not  by  some  slighter  siifFerings,  but  by 
his  sufferings  unto  death  ;  and  not  by  Ins 
undergoing  a  common  death,  but  the  most 
ignominious  and  tornietitiiig  of  all  deaths, 
the  death  upon  the  cross  ?  ' 

And  as  we  find  the  imputation  of  oiu- 
sins  so  plainly  asserted  here,  so  we  find  in 
the  Dialogues,  that  "  this  part  of  our  Lord's 
meritorious  humiliation  is,  by  a  very  usual 
figure,  put  for  the  whole.  The  death  of 
Christ  includes,  not  only  his  suflerings,  hut 
his  obedience.  The  shedding  of  his  pre- 
cious blood,  was  at  once  the  grand  instance 
of  his  siifiVriiigs,  and  the  finishing  act  of 
his  obedience.  In  this  view  it  is  consider- 
ed, and  thus  it  is  interpreted  by  his  own 
ambassador,  who,  speaking  of  his  divine 
Master,  says,  '  He  was  obedient  mito 
death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross.'  When 
the  Scrip' nre  ascribes  our  justification  to 
the  death  of  Christ,  we  are  not  to  tliink 
that  it  would  set  aside,  but  imply  his  olie- 
dieiice."  Now,  if  we  are  not  to  think  this 
of  the  Scripture,  in  Mr.  Hervey's  opinion, 
how  then  can  we  think  it  of  him  ?       And, 


636 


THE  MINISTRY 


without  thinking  it,  where  lies  the  inconsis- 
tence between  the  sermon  and  the  Dia- 
logues ? 

But  I  rather  imagine,  that  the  charge  is 
brought  by  Mr.  Hervey's  enemies.  Some 
of  these  people,  to  avoid  being  thought  So- 
cinians,  seem  willing  to  allow  the  satisfac- 
tion of  Christ,  while  they  declare  against 
the  doctrine  of  justification  by  the  imputa- 
tion of  his  righteousness  ;  and  such  are  ex- 
tremely willing  to  interpret  Mr.  Hervey's 
silence  into  a  consent  to  their  own  perni- 
cious sentiments.  Theron  and  Aspasio  is 
a  dead  weight  upon  them  ;  they  have  not, 
nor  can  they  answer  it  ;  willingly,  therefore, 
would  they  come  off  by  saying  the  author 
hail  contradicted  himself.  But  false  is  their 
pretence,  and  as  false  is  their  profession. 
That  they  allow  the  satisfaction  of  Christ 
for  imputation,  is  as  reasonable,  and  as  jus- 
tifiable, in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other  : 
they  both  stand  upon  one  and  the  same 
footing,  so  he  that  throws  down  one  throws 
down  both  ;  whoever  rejects  the  doctrine  of 
our  Saviour's  righteousness  being  imputed 
unto  man,  rejects,  by  so  doing,  the  docti  ine 
of  man's  sins  being  imputed  to  our  Saviour, 
and  all  the  consequences  of  it ;  or,  in  other 
words,  he  who  rejects  the  doctrine  of  free 
justification,  rejects,  by  so  doing,  the  doc- 
trine of  Christ. 

As  the  main  design  in  writing  Theron 
ai»d  Aspasio,  was  to  prove  the  fundamen- 
tal doctrine  of  justification  by  the  imputed 
righteousness  of  Christ ;  and  as  it  appears 
that  the  sermon  does  not  contradict  it  in 
this  most  important  article  ;  I  suppose  it 
will  be  allowed,  that  the  charge  of  contra- 
diction, as  to  what  is  most  material,  is  en- 
tirely got  over.  But,  perhaps,  in  a  mattei- 
of  less  consequence,  it  may  still  be  object- 
ed, that  Mr.  Hervey,  in  the  Dialogues,  ap- 
pears plainly  to  be  Calvinistic  in  the  doc- 
tiine  of  particular  redemption  ;  but  in  the 
sermon  he  says  expressly,  that  "  Christ's 
death  is  a  full,  perfect,  and  sufficient  sacri- 
fice for  the  shis  of  the  ichole  world."  The 
Church  of  England  says  this,  as  well  as 
]\Ir.  Hervey,  in  the  office  fur  the  Commun- 
ion ;  and  yet  no  unprejudiced  person  will 
question  but  she  is  j)erfectly  Calvinistical 
in  her  Articles  and  Homilies. 

The  truth  is,  there  is  no  Calvimst  but 
will  allow,  that  the  satisfaction  of  Christ  is 
full,  perfect,  and  sufficient  for  all ;  but  then 
they  distinguish  between  the  sufficiency  and 
efficiency  of  his  sacrifice.  With  regard  to 
the  value  of  the  oblation,  it  is  sufficient  for 
the  re(li'm])tion  of  every  man  ;  with  regard 
to  its  eifieacy,  as  every  man  is  benefited  by 
the  death  of  Christ,  so  Christ  died  lor  him; 
but  these  benefits  are  not  of  one  kind. 
Some  aie  common  to  every  man  ;  all  the 
earthly  blessings  wh.ich  unbelievers  enjoy, 
arc  the  fruits  of  Clirist's  death ;  so  far  as 


they  are  benefited  by  him,  so  far  he  died 
for  them  ;  other  benefits  belong  to  the 
members  of  the  visible  church,  and  are  com- 
mon to  all  those  who  live  under  the  gos- 
})el ;  many  graces  such  may  i-eceive  from 
Christ,  which,  through  their  own  fault,  are 
not  saving  ;  and,  so  far  as  they  are  benefit- 
ed by  Chiist,  so  far  Christ  died  for  them  ; 
other  benefits  still,  according  to  the  will  of 
God  and  the  intention  of  the  Mediator,  are 
peculiar  to  those  which  he  himself  says  are 
given  unto  him  by  the  Father — his  sheep, 
his  elect — such  as  a  true  fiith,  regeneration, 
sanctification,  adoption,  &c.  In  this  sense, 
say  those  Christians  called  Calvinists, 
Christ  died  for  his  people  only,  to  bring 
them  effectually  to  grace  and  to  glory. 
This  system  only  is  consistent  with  Mr. 
Hervey's  notion  of  free  grace. 

The  Arminian  scheme  is,  That  Christ 
died  with  a  purpose  to  make  the  salvatioU 
of  every  man  in  the  world  possible,  without 
any  manner  of  difference,  whether  they  are 
believers  or  unbelievers  :  that  he  died,  not 
to  bring  any  man  actually  to  salvation,  and 
make  him  a  partaker  of  righteousness  and 
life,  but  to  purchase  a  possibility  of  salva;- 
tion  and  reconciliation,  so  far  as  that  God 
might,  consistent  with  his  justice,  receive 
men  into  favour  upon  condition  of  faith  and 
repentance.  This  faith  and  rejjentance, 
say  they,  Christ  merited  not :  for  if  he  had, 
then  God  had  been  bound  to  give  them  un- 
to every  man,  and  so  every  man  must  have 
been  saved.  Thus,  you  see,  according  to 
these  gentlemen,  Christ  died  equally  for  all 
the  world ;  and  the  reason  why  some  are 
saved,  lies  wholly  in  themselves,  in  attain- 
ing to  that  faith  and  repentance,  by  the 
good  use  of  their  natural  powers,  which 
Christ  did  not  purchase  for  them.  This  is 
the  meaning  of  every  Arminian,"  let  him 


*  That  the  reader  may  still  more  clearly  apprehend 
the  doctrine  of  Mr.  Hervey,  who  was  a  Calvinist,  and 
the  difference  between  him  and  the  Arminians,  the 
following  note  is  subjoined. 

"  The  Arminians  are  supposed  by  some  (who  are 
not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  their  tenets)  to  main- 
tain that  we  are  to  do  something  for  ourselves,  and 
C  hrist  to  do  the  rest ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  we 
have  partly  a  righteousness  of  our  own,  and  that  Je- 
sus Christ  is  to  make  up  the  deficiencies  of  that  righ- 
teousness. This,  however,  is  not  the  common  divi- 
nity of  the  Arminians.  They  have  no  such  notion  of 
a  patch-work  justification,  or  that  we  are  saved  partly 
by  the  imputation  of  Christ's  merits  to  make  up  the 
deficiencies  of  our  own.  But  the  principles  of  their 
scheme  are  briefly  these:  That  Christ  is  the  sole  and 
only  author  of  our  salvation,  not  by  imputing  his 
rigliteousness  to  us,  but  by  purchasing  such  favoura- 
ble terms  of  reconciliation  for  us,  and  by  restoring  to 
us  such  abilities  to  fulfil  them,  by  means  of  which  we 
can  only  become  capable  of  being  justified  in  the 
sight  of  God.  Therefore  we  say,  that  those  in  this 
life  who  have  used  well  the  grace  that  is  "iven  them, 
and  conformed  to  the  terms  of  the  gospel,  God  doth 
justify.  That  is,  were  he  to  call  them  to  the  bar  of 
judgment  and  try  them,  he  would  acquit,  or  pro- 
nounce them  not  guilty.  Because  Christ,  by  his  me- 
ritorious death  and  sufferings,  having  purchased 
for  them  the  law  of  repentance,  as  the  law  by  which 
they  are  to  be  judged  and  tried;  and  they  having 
throuj;!]  grace  fulfilled  the  law,  i.  e.  become  true  pe- 


OF  TIECONCILIATION. 


637 


express  liiir.self  however  he  will.  And 
how  far  tlris  is  consistent  with  Mr.  Her- 
vey's  exhortations  to  the  seli-np;hteous  mo- 
ralist, in  the  dose  of  this  sermon,  I  believe 
I  need  not  tell  you.  Indeed,  I\Ir.  Hervey 
engages  not  here  ii\  the  controversy  at  all ; 
but  (going  upon  what  both  sides  are  agreed 
in,  viz.  the  sulhciency  of  Christ's   sacrifice 


the  cause,  how  can  he  be   guilty  of  incon- 
sistency? 

Upon  the  whole,  then,  this  is  a  most  ex- 
cellent sermon.  As  the  Dialogues  in  The- 
ron  and  Aspasio  were,  so  is  this,  the  ti'ue 
offspring  of  him  who  now  I'ests  from  his 
labours,  and  his  works  do  follow  him  ;  the 
offspring  of  him  who  always  songht  to  ex- 


to  save  all  that  will  believ.')   he  invites  all   alt  the  Saviour,  to  humble  the   sinner,  and 
his  hearers  to    tly  nnto   him  [for    salvation,    to  promote  holiness. 
Now,  if  he  never  enters  into  the  merits  of' 


SERMON    IV. 

THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  GLORY. 

Preudud  at  the  violation  of  the  Rev.  John  Brown,  D.  D-  Archdeacon  of  Northampton, 
Jteldat  All-Saints  Church  in  Nortltampton,  on  the  \Olh  of  May  1753. 


Gal.  vi.  14.— ''Goil  forbid  thrt  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 


The  cross  of  Christ  was  the  favourite 
topic  of  St.  Panl's  contem])l:ition  :  The 
cross  of  Christ  was  the  chosen  subject  of 
his  sermons,  and  the  grand  theme  of  his 
writings.  At  all  times,  and  in  every  ca- 
l)acity,  he  professed,  he  avowed,  he  gloried 
in  the  cross  of  Christ.  Nay,  what  is  very 
remarkable,  he  gloried  in  nothing  else  ;  and 
what  is  still  more  observable,  he  abhorred  the 


iiitents,  God  therefore,  fortheabovemeritsof  Christ, 
admits  of  their  qualifications,  forgives  them  their  of- 
fences, and  rewards  them  as  if  they  had  never  ofl'cnd- 
ed.  Here  then  is  no  splitting  of  the  imputalioii,  no 
copartnership  with  Christ;  but  Christ's  righteousness 
is  represented  as  the  sole  procuring  cause  of  our  sal- 
vation, and  ours  as  only  the  applying  cause,  by  per- 
forming the  retpiisite  conditions;  i.  c.  They  both 
tend  to  difterent  ends;  one  to  (irocure  the  terms  of 
justification,  and  the  other  to  perform  them.  So 
th;it,  in  short,  according  to  this  scheme  of  the  Armi- 
nians,  our  justification  is  not  made  up  partly  of 
('hrist's  righteousness,  and  partly  of  our  own;  for 
his  righteousness  is  not  partly  imputed,  but  not  at  all 
imputed,  in  the  Calvinistical  sense  of  imputation. 
In  order  to  make  thisdlH'erence  of  opinion  still  clear- 
er, it  must  be  observed,  that  the  Calvinisls  (being  ac- 
customed to  their  ideas  of  impiUativc  riphteousuess) 
imagine  that  when  the  .Arniinians  aihrm  the  ne- 
cessity of  inherent  righteousness  in  order  to  just- 
ification, that  they  mean,  a  borrowing  of  Christ's 
imputative  righteou.sness  to  make  up  the  defi- 
ciencies of  our  own.  Whereas,  the  Arminians,  in 
fact,  suppose,  that  Christ  did  not,  in  any  degree,  fulfil 
the  terms  of  justification  in  our  stead  ;  but,  on  the 
contrary,  having  purchased  them  for  us,  and  procur- 
ed us  sufficient  powers  and  abilities  of  performing 
them,  he  left  us  to  co-operate  wilh  those  powers,  ami 
so  to  fulfil  them  oursiivis."  This  is  a  fair,  candid, 
and  consistent  state  of  the  Arminian  doctrnie.  No 
one  can  say  it  is  misrepresented  ;  for  it  is  here  given 
in  the  very  words  of.ni  eminentdivine,  anddipmtary 
of  the  Churchof  England,  who  ishimselfan  Armiiu- 
an.  How  much  superior  tlie  Calvinistic  (whicli  was 
Mr.  Hervey's)  doctrine  is,  to  humble  the  sinner,  to 
exalt  the  Saviour,  and  to  promote  holiness,  let  every 
reader  judge. 


thoughts  of  glorying  in  any  thing  else.  He 
sj.jaks  of  such  a  jnactice  in  the  language 
of  detestation  and  dread,  accounting  it  a 
high  degree  both  of  folly  and  of  wickedness  : 
"  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in 
the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

It  may  therefore  be  an  employ  worthy  of 
our  present  attention,  to  inquire  into  the 
nature,  the  reasonableness,  and  the  wisdom 
of  this  resolution.  All  which,  I  hope,  will 
appear,  if  we  consider, 

I.  In  what  the  apostle  woidd  not  glory. 

II.  In  what  he  did  glory. 

III.  What  reason  he  had  to  glory  in  the 
cross  of  Christ. 

These  points  being  briefly  despatched,  I 
shall  beg  leave  to  add  a  word  of  a])])lication, 
suggested  by  the  tenor  of  the  discourse,  and 
adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  my  several 
hearers.  And  may  that  adorable  Jesus, 
who  has  exchanged  his  cross  for  an  heaven- 
ly crown,  accofTipany  all  with  bis  divine 
blessing  ! 

Let  us  then  inquire, 

1.  In  what  the  apostle  did  not  glory. 
Not  in  the  greaUiess  of  bis  learning  as  a 
scholar.  He  was  brought  up  at  the  feet  of 
Gamaliel  ;  educated  by  the  most  famous 
tutor  of  the  at^e.  Nor  was  his  genius  or 
his  industry  inferior  to  the  other  advantages 
of  his  education.  Yet  all  these  advantages, 
with  their  correspondent  acquisitions,  he 
accounted  no  better  thati  pompous  ignorance, 
or  refined  folly. 

Not  in  the  strictness  of  his  life  as  a  Jew. 
Iff  this  respect  he  profited  above  his  equals  ; 


TH'E  CROSS  OF  CHRIST 


"  WHS  tauL'bt  arcnrdln?;  to  the  perfect  man- 
ner of  the  Uiw  of  the  fathers,  Acts  xxii.  3; 
Hfter  the  strictest  sect  of  their  rehgion  he 
lived  a  Pharisee,"  Acts  xxvi.  5  ;  was  zeal- 
ous, exceedingly  zealous,  of  the  whole  cere- 
monial law,  and  of  all  the  traditional  con- 
Rtiriitions.  Which  accomplishments  must 
finish  his  character  among  his  countrymen  ; 
must  open  his  way  to  some  of  the  first  hon- 
ours of  the  nation  ;  and  give  him  a  nnme 
among  those  worthies  who  were  reputed  the 
excellent  of  the  eirth.  But  what  others 
counted  gain,  this  he  connteil  loss  for  Christ. 

Not  in  the  eminency  of  his  gifts,  nor  in 
the  extent  of  his  usefulness  as  a  Christian 
minister.  He  had  heen  caught  up  into  the 
third  heaven  ;  had  heard  the  words  of  God, 
and  seen  the  vision  of  the  Almighty;  had 
wrought  all  manner  of  wonders,  and  signs, 
and  mighty  deeds.  What  was  still  more 
valuahle,  he  had  planted  churches,  and  con- 
verted souls.  His  labours  were  gone  our 
into  all  lands,  and  his  words  into  the  ends 
of  the  earth.  Yet  all  these  acquirements, 
before  the  infinite  God,  were  defective  ;  all 
these  performances,  in  point  of  justification, 
were  insufficient.  Therefore  in  none  of 
these  he  gloried.  W^hich  reminds  me  of 
the  second  inquiry. 

H.  In  what  the  apostle  did  glory.  Tie 
gloried  in  a  cross.  Strange  !  What  -j 
scandalous  as  a  cross  ?  On  a  cross  rebelli- 
ous slaves  were  executed.  The  cross  was 
execrable  among  men,  and  accursed  even  by 
God,  Gal.  iii.  13.  Yet  the  apostle  glories 
in  the  cross.  Crucifixion  not  being  used 
among  us,  the  expression  does  not  sound 
s')  harsh,  neither  is  the  idea  so  horrid.  But 
to  the  ear  of  a  Galatian  it  conveyed  much 
the  same  meaning,  as  if  the  apostle  had 
gloried  in  a  halter,  gloried  in  the  gallows, 
gloried  in  a  gibbet.* 

"  Stupid  creature,"  perhaps  some  may  re- 
ply, "  to  undervalue  the  most  substantial 
endowments,  and  glory  in  infamy  itself!" 
But  stop  a  moment,  and  hear  the  apostle 
fiirther.  He  glories  in  the  cross  of  Christ  ; 
tliat  illustrious  person,  who  was  anointed 
to  be  the   all-iustructiug    Projihet,   the  uU- 

*  Some  1  lorsoiis,  I  am  informed,  were  disgusted  at 
these  words,  hater,  gallows,  E;ibbet:  they  are  so  hor 
ribly  contemptible!  To  whom  I  would  reply,  that 
tlie  cross,  in  point  of  ignominy  and  torment,  included 
a)l  this  and  more.  Unless  the  Englisli  re.ider  forms 
to  himself  some  su'-h  inia  re,  he  will  never  be  able  to 
ai>prehend  Ih'j  scandalous  nature,  and  shocknij-  civ- 
cuciistances,  of  his  divine  Master's  deatli. 

The  words,  I  must  confrss,  were  diversified,  and 
the  sentiment  whs  reiterated,  on  purpose  to  afiect  the 
mind  with  this  astonishing  truth.  Neither  can  I  pre- 
vail upon  myself  to  expu:iije  tl)?  expressions,  uiiles<:I 
could  substitute  others  of  a  more  ignimniious  and 
execrable  import.  Only  I  would  beg  of  the  seriom 
reader  to  spend  a  moment  in  the  following  reflection : 
••  Is  it  so,  that  a  polite  and  delicr.te  ejr  tan  hardly 
endure  so  much  as  the  sound  of  the  words  ?  How 
amazing  then  was  the  condescension  !  how  charming 
and  adorable  the  goodness  of  God's  illustrious  Son  to 
bear  all  that  is  signified  by  these  into'rrably  vile 
terms  !--hear  it  willii.gly.  bear  it  cheerfully,  tor  us 
men,  and  our  salv.ation  !" 


atoning  Priest,  and  theall-conqueriiig  King 
of  the  church.  In  the  cross  of  Christ  Jesus  ; 
who,  by  the  discharge  of  all  those  import- 
ant offices,  should  save  his  people  from  the. 
dominion  of  sin,  and  from  the  damnation  of 
hell.  In  the  cross  of  Christ  Jesus  our 
Lord  ;  and  not  ours  only,  but  Lord  of  all ; 
who  doth  according  to  his  will  in  the  army 
of  heaven,  and  among  the  inhabitants  of 
the  earth,  Dan.  iv.  3.5  ;  who  hath  on  his 
vesture,  and  on  his  thigh  a  name  written, 
Kingofkinf/s,  and  Lord  nf  lords  '  Rev.  xix.  16. 
And  is  it  ])ossible  for  any  human  heart 
to  contemplate  the  cross  of  so  divine  a  be- 
ing, and  not  to  glory?  Is  it  possible  to 
sa)'.  Angels,  he  rules  over  you  ;  but  he  died, 
he  died  on  a  cross  for  me  ;  and  not  exult  in 
such  transporting  beneficence  ?  This  will 
be  more  evident,  if  we  examine, 

III.  What  reason  the  apostle  had  to  glory 
ill  the  cross  of  Christ.  The  cross,  though 
in  itself  an  igiiominous  tree,  yet  being  the 
cross  of  Christ,  is  itifinitely  ennobled.  It 
becomes  the  tree  of  life ;  it  bears  the  di- 
viiiest  fruit;  its  clusters  are  all  spiritual 
and  heavenly  blessings.  Two  or  three  of 
those  clusters  you  will  permit  me  to  select; 
and  may  the  God  of  all  mercy  make  them 
better  tliari  a  feast  to  every  humble  soul  ! 

One  blessing  is  the  pardon  of  sin  :  the 
pardon  of  all  sin,  original  and  actual  ;  sin 
that  is  remembered,  and  sin  that  is  forgot- 
ten ;  sin  however  circumstanced,  or  how- 
ever aggravated.  The  pardon  of  all  was 
purchased  by  the  death  of  Christ  ;  com- 
pletely purchased  :  so  that,  against  the  true 
believer,  sin  shall  never  rise  up  in  judgment; 
"  shall  not  so  much  as  be  mentioned  unto 
him,"  Ezek.  xviii.  '22  ;  shall  be  done  anay, 
as  though  it  had  never  been.  For  thus 
saith  the  ambassador  of  the  Prince  of  Peace, 
"  Be  it  known  unto  you,  men  and  brethren, 
that  through  this  man  is  preached  unto  you 
the  forgiveness  of  sins  ;  and  by  him  all  that 
believe  are  justified  from  all  things,"  Acts 
xiii.  SB,  39.  Oli,  my  soul  !  my  guilty  soul  ! 
what  are  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and 
the  glories  of  them,  compared  with  this  in- 
eft'.ible  blessing  !  Yet  this  is  but  one  among 
a  multitude. 

Another  benefit  accruing  from  the  cross 
ofChrist,  is  reconciliation  with  God.  "When 
we  were  enemies,  we  were  reconciled  to 
Goil  by  the  death  of  his  Sou,"  Rom.  v.  10. 
Not  pardonetl  only,  but  accepted  ;  from  a 
state  of  enmity,  restored  to  a  state  of  fa- 
vour ;  even  that  "favour  which  is  better  than 
life,"  Psalm  Ixiii.  3  :  A  privilege  of  such 
superlative  excellency,  that  it  was  celebrat- 
ed in  the  hymns  of  angels.  When  the  hea- 
venly host  uttered  a  song,  this  was  the  sub- 
ject of  their  harmonious  joy;  "  Glory  be 
to  God  in  the  highest ;  and  on  earth,  peace, 
good  will  towards  men,"  Luke  ii.  M.  By 
the  birth   of  this  wonderful   child,  and  thtt 


death  he  shall  sustain,  peace  is  made  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth  ;  and  not  peace 
only,  but  a  divine  friendship  commences. 
God  regards  the  poor  apostate  race  of  men, 
not  only  without  indignation,  but  with  com- 
placency and  deligiit :  "  He  rejoices  over 
them  to  do  them  good."  Deut.  xxviii.  63. 

Another  benefit  is  holiness  ;  or,  if  you 
please,  the  true,  the  Christian  moralily. 
Let  none  think  the  believer  in  Jesus  dis- 
parages true  morality.  True  morality  is  the 
image  of  the  blessed  God  ;   it  is  most  char- 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  GLORY.  689 

of  God.     "  These,"  said  one  of  the  vener- 


able elders,  "  are  they  who  came  out  of 
great  tribulation,  and  have  washed  their 
robes,  aiid  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of 
the  Lamb."  Therefore  "  are  they  before 
the  throne,  Rev.  vii.  9.  H,  15.  They  came 
out  of  great  tribulation:"  they  sulfered,  it 
is  probable,  in  the  service  of  Christ :  per- 
haps they  laid  down  their  lives  for  his  sake. 
But  this  was  not  their  passport  into  the  re- 
gions of  bli^s.  "  They  washed  their  robes 
in  the   blood  of  the  Lamb  :"  they  had   ap- 


niiiigly  dilineatcvl  throughout  the  whole  j  ])li;(l  to  their  own  somIs  the  merits  and 
Bible  ;  it  is  the  beginning  of  heaven  in  the  i  atonement  of  the  crucified  Jesus.  By  this 
human  soul  ;  and  its  proper  origin  is  from  .  means,  they  were  presentetl  without  spot, 
the  cross  of  our  divine  Master.    For  through  !  and  blameless  ;  on  this  account   they  were 

admitted  to  "  see  the  King  of  heaven  in  his 
beauty,"  L-aiah  xxxiii.  17,  and  to  be  ever, 
ever  with  the  Lord. 

Since  then  the  cross  of  Christ  was  de- 
monstrative of  such  stupendous  love  ,  since 
it  is  productive  of  benefits  innumerable,  in- 
valuable, and  eternal ;  was,  theie  not  a  cause 
for  the  apostle  to  glory  on  this  behalf?  Nay, 
might  not  the  very  stones  have  cried  otit, 
to  reproach  him  with  insensibility  and  in- 
gratitude, if  he  had  neglected  to  glory  in 
the  cross  of  Christ?  And  since  this  love 
was  shewed,  these  benefits  were  procured, 
not  for  him  only,  but  for  us,  and  for  all  ge- 
nerations ;  does  not  this  afford  me  au  op- 
l)ortunity  of  a))plying  the  doctrine  to  each 
particular  heart  r  ? 

I.  Let  me  address,  or  rather  let  me  con- 
gratulate, my  brethren  in  the  ministry. 
Though  you  cannot  control  the  laws  of  iisi- 
ture,  though  you  cannot  see  into  the  secrets 
of  futurity,  you  have  the  same  cause  of  glo- 
rying with  the  very  chicfe^t  of  the  apostles; 
a  cause  of  glorying,  which  that  holy  man  of 
God  esteemed  far  abo\e  all  such  miiacnl- 
ous  abilities.  You  have  the  cross  of  C'hri.^t, 
For  your  aiuaj/,  as  men  ; 
For  your  hove,  as  Christians  ; 
I'or  \u\xY  jireacldng,  as  wiiiuitx:rii. 
For  your  study,  as  men.  Here  the  rea.son- 
ing  faculties  may  exert  themselves  with 
everlasting  improvement  and  everlasting 
delight.  Here  we  contemplate  the  won- 
ders, the  iinjiHralleied  wonders  of  a  God 
made  man ;  dying  as  a  pattern  of  pa- 
tience, as  a  martyr  for  truth,  as  an  all-perfect 
sacrifice  forsiii.  Here  the  Lord  Jehovah  hath 
fully  granted,  what  his  servant  Moses  (Exod. 
x.vxiii.  ]S,)>o  earnc.-tly  refjuested^he  hatb 
made  all  his  glory  to  p'ass  before  the  astonish- 
ed eyes  of  angels  and  of  men.  Here  just  ice  has 
set  her  most  awful  terrors  in  array  ;  even 
while  gooflness  ai)peurs,  with  inexpressible 
loveliness,  and  the  most  attractive  beauty. 
Here  tiuth,  more  unshaken  than  a  rock, 
takes  her  iir,mo\-euble  stand;  and  mewy, 
tenderer  than  the  mother's  tear,  ycHriis  with 
Ijowels  of  everlasting  pity.  In  a  word,  the 
cross  of  Christ  is  a  conspicuous  theatre,  oa 


the  merits  of  his  death,  sinners  are  made 
partakers  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  who  writes 
upon  their  hearts,  and  makes  legible  in  their 
conversation,  what  was  anciently  written 
upon  the  mitre  of  the  high  priest,  HoRiiKSfi 
to  the  Lord.  And,  oh  !  what  a  motive  is 
the  cross  of  Christ  to  the  exercise  of  every 
virtue !  "  He  died — my  Lord,  my  Judge, 
my  King,  died — to  redeem  me  from  all  ini- 
quity, and  make  me  zealous  of  good  works.") 
How  powerfully,  far  beyond  any  naked  in- 
structions or  abstract  reasonings,  do  such 
considerations  invite  us,  urge  us,  constrain 
us,  (2  Cor.  V.  14',)  to  renounce  all  u!ii;(<d- 
liuess,  and  adorn  the  gospel  of  God  our  Sa- 
viour I 

Another  blessing  is  victory  over  death. 
This  also  is  the  fruit  of  that  once  detested, 
but  now  ever-beloved  tree.  For  thus  it  is 
written,  "  That,  through  <leath,  he  might 
destroy  him  that  had  the  i)ower  of  death, 
that  is,  the  devil  ;  and  deliver  them  who, 
through  fear  of  death,  were  all  their  lifetime 
sidjject  to  bondage,"  Heb.  ii.  It,  I.5.  The 
devil  is  said  to  have  the  power  of  death  ; 
because,  by  tempting  too  successfully  our 
first  parents,  he  brought  death  into  the 
world  ;  because,  by  teiDpting  their  posteri- 
ty to  sin,  and  too  often  prevailing,  he  arrays 
death  in  horror;  he  arms  death  with  its 
sting.  But  Cllri^t,  by  expiatingour  guilt,  has 
disarmed  this  last  enemy;  has  taken  away  its 
sting;  and  made  it  not  Ioj-s,  but  gain  to 
die,  Philip,  i.  21.  The  gay,  and  the  healthy, 
know  not  how  to  form  an  estimate  of  this 
deliverance  ;  nor  can  any  words  of  mine 
<iescril)e  it  witii  projjer  energy.  Go  to  dy- 
ing beds ;  there  you  will  learn  its  true 
worth.  Ask  some  agoiiizi-d  fiicnd  ;  he,  and 
lie  alone,  can  tell  you,  w  hat  a  ble.-siiig  it  is  to 
have  the  king  of  terrors  converte<i  into  a 
messenger  of  jieace. 

One  blessing  more  I  would  mention,  and 
earnestly  wish  it,  in  due  time,  to  all  tny 
hearers — an  entrance  into  heaven.  This 
too  is  the  ])rodiice  of  our  Redeemer's  cross. 
St.  John  saw  a  bright  assembly  of  happy 
beings,  clothed  with  white  robes,  atid  jialnis 
iu  their  bands,  rejoicing  before  the   throise 


640 


THE   CROSS   C>F  CHRIST 


\vhich  ill!  the  divine  porfcrtions  iiiiite,  and 
haniionize,  and  shine  lorih  \\  ith  tianscend- 
eiit  lustre. 

As  Christians,  we  have,  in  the  cross  of 
Christ,  the  richest  provision  for  our  own 
spiritual  wfints.  This  is  a  foundation  of  the 
sublimest  hope,  and  a  foinitain  of  the  most 
exuberant  joy  :  this  affords  matter  for  the 
deepest  humility,  and  yields  fuel  for  the 
most  flaming  love.  Faith  in  our  crucified 
Jesus  is  an  ever-active  principle  of  the  most 
cheerful  and  exact  obedience  ;  is  an  ample 
and  inexhaustible  magazine,  from  which  we 
rhay  fetch  arms  to  conquer,  absolutely  con- 
quer, the  allurements  of  the  world,  the  soli- 
citations of  the  flesh,  and  the  temj)tations 
of  the  devil.  By  this  a  way  is  opened  for 
us  into  the  holy  of  holies  :  and  what  may 
we  not  venture  to  ask,  what  may  we  not 
expect  to  receive,  who  have  the  blood  of 
the  everlasting  covenant  to  plead,  in  all  our 
approaches  to  the  throne  of  grace  ?  Having 
therefore  such  an  high-priest,  having  in  his 
cross  unsearchable  riches,  who  shall  make 
our  glorying  void  ?  what  shall  hinder  us 
from  rejoicing  and  saying,  "  Blessed  be  God 
for  these  opening  beauties  of  spring  !  Bless- 
ed be  God  for  the  expected  fruits  of  au- 
tumn !  Blessed  be  God  for  ten  thousand 
thousand  gifts  of  his  indulgent  providence  ! 
but,  above  all,  blessed  be  God  for  the  cross 
of  Christ?" 

As  ministers  of  the  gospel,  we  are  rot 
left  to  set  before  our  hearers  a  system  of 
refined  heathein'sm  ;  or  to  entertain  them 
with  cold,  spiritless  lectures  of  virtue.  No  ; 
we  have  the  infinitely  tender  love,  the  im- 
mensely free  grace,  of  the  bleeding,  dying 
Immanuel,  to  display,  to  imjjrove,  to  en- 
force. And  is  there  a  topic  in  the  whole 
compass  of  oratory,  is  there  an  argument 
amidst  all  the  stores  of  reason,  so  admira- 
bly calculated  to  touch  the  finest  movements 
of  the  soul  ?  to  strike  all  the  inmost  springs 
of  action  with  the  most  persuasive,  the  most 
commanding  energy  ?  Would  we  alarm  the 
supine,  or  intimidate  the  presumptuous  ? 
we  may  call  them  to  behold  God's  own  Son 
weltering  in  blood,  God's  own  Son  trans- 
fixed with  the  arrows  of  justice  :  we  may 
bid  them  consider,  if  judgment  begins  with 
the  immaculate  Mldiator,  where  shall  the 
irreclaimable  sinner  appear?  how  will  he 
escape  the  stroke?  how  bear  the  weight  of 
God's  everlasting  vengeance  ?  \A'ould  we 
comfort  the  distressed  ?  we  may  point  them 
to  an  atonement  whose  merits  are  infinite. 
and  able  to  save  to  the  very  uttermost, 
Heb.  vii.  2.5  ;  we  may  lead  them  to  a  right- 
eousness, whose  efficacy  is  unbounded,  and 
sufficient  to  justify  the  ungodly.  And  what 
balm  can  be  so  sovereign  for  a  wounded  con- 
science ?  Are  we  to  support  the  weak,  and 
luimate  the  doubting?  here  vv  may  show 
ilieni    promises,    free  promises,    exceeding 


great  and  precious  promises,  ratified  by  the 
oath  of  Jehovah,  and  sealed  by  the  blood 
of  his  Son.  And  what  cordials  can  be  so 
restorative  to  the  drooping  Christian? 

In  short,  the  doctrine  of  the  cross  is  suited 
to  answer  all  the  greac  ends  of  our  ministry, 
and  promote  all  the  truly  valuable  interests 
of  our  peoijle.  By  this  the  Holy  Spirit 
delights  to  work  ;  and  this,  "  O  Satan,  shall 
be  thy  plague  ;"  this,  O  sin,  "  shall  be  thy 
destruction."  Hosea  xiii.  14.  However, 
therefore,  the  cross  might  be  to  the  Jews  a 
stumbling  block,  and  to  the  Greeks  foolish- 
ness ;  God  forbid  that  we  should  glory  in 
any  thing  else.  Let  this  be  the  Alpha  and 
Omega,  the  beginning  and  ending  of  all  our 
public  ministrations.  Let  us  leave  a  savour 
of  this  knowledge,  which  is  far  better  than 
precious  ointment,  in  every  private  com- 
pany I  Let  it  appear,  from  all  our  conversa- 
tion, that  the  afiections  of  our  heart,  and 
the  labours  of  our  life,  are  devoted,  wholly 
devoted,  to  our  adored  Redeemer's  cross. 
Happy  the  people  who  are  under  the  care 
of  such  ministers  I  and  blessed  the  ministers 
who  walk  according  to  this  rule  ! 

2.  Let  me  exhort  all  true  believers  ;  those 
who  are  vile  in  their  own  eyes,  and  to  whom 
Christ  alone  is  precious.  Remember,  bre- 
thren, what  is  written  in  the  prophet ;  it  is  a 
description  of  your  state,  it  is  a  direction  for 
your  conduct :  "  In  the  Lord,  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  shall  all  the  seed  of  Israel  be  justified, 
and  in  him  shall  they  glory."  Isaiah  xlv.  23, 

Let  none  say,  that  religion  is  a  gloomy 
or  uncomfortable  state  ;  I  call  upon  you 
this  day  to  rejoice.  Let  none  say,  religion 
is  a  mean  or  despicable  thing  ;  I  call  upon 
you  this  day  to  glory;  and  have  the  divine 
authority  for  both.*  You  will  dishonour 
the  blessed  Jesus,  you  will  disparage  his 
surpassing  excellency,  if  you  do  not  confide 
in  him,  atid  make  your  boast  of  him.  Christ 
is  King  of  heaven,  Christ  is  Judge  of  the 
world,  Christ  is  God  overall.  And  of  such 
aSaviourshallwe  notglory?  Yes,  verily;  and 
in  all  circumstances,  and  on  every  occasion. 
Amidst  your  manifold  infirmities  glory 
in  Christ.  For,  though  he  was  crucified  in 
weakness,  he  hath  all  i)ower  in  heaven  and 
earth.  And  it  is  written  before  him,  it  is 
one  of  his  immutable  decrees,  ".'•in  shall 
not  have  dominion  over  you."  Rom.  vi.  14- 
Amidst  your  various  fadings,  glory  in  Christ- 
For  his  righteousness  covers  all  your  imper- 
fections, his  righteousness  secures  you  from 
wrath  and  condemnation  ;  and,  though  de- 
ficient in  yourselves,  you  are  complete  in 
him.  Col.  ii.  10.  Under  the  pressure 
of  tribulations,  lift  up  your  heads,  and  glory 
in  the  cro.^s  ;   because  the  Captain  of  your 


*  V^avxt^fiK";  the  word  in  our  text,  denotes  the 
act  ot'rtjoiciiig,  as  well  as  of  glorying.  Tims  it  u 
translated,  Roin.  v.  11.  And  indeed  this  it  always 
implies,  bee  Psalm  v.  11.  Psalm  cxlix.  5.  Se-^' 
tians. 


TOE   CHRISTIANS  GLORY. 


C4l 


salvation  was  made  perfect  through  suffer-,  own  works;  and  you  shall  be  filled  with  all 


iri|j:s.  ir  you  suffer  with  him,  you  shall  also 
reign  with  him.  And  the  sufferings  of  this 
jjresent  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared 
with  the  happiness  which  Christ  has  pur- 
chased with  his  agonies,  and  will  quickly 
l)estow  on  his  people.  When  death  ap- 
j)roiiches — death  that  cuts  (jff  the  spirit  of 
princes,  and  is  terrible  among  the  kings  of 
the  earth — do  you  still  gloiy  in  the  cross. 
A<lhering  to  this  banner,  you  may  i)oldly 
and  triumphantly  say,  "  O  death,  where  is 
thy  sting  ?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 
I  Cor.  XV.  55.  When  that  great  tremen- 
dous day  shall  come,  which  puts  an  end  to 
time  and  terrestrial  things  ;  when  that  aw- 
ful, that  majestic  voice  is  heard,  which  com- 
mands all  the  race  of  Adam  to  appear  at 
the  bar  ;  then,  my  dear  brethren  in  Christ, 
then  also  shall  you  glory  in  the  cross. 
When  others,  in  an  agony  of  terror,  call 
upon  rocks  to  fall  on  them,  and  mountains 
to  overwhelm  them,  this  shall  be  your  se- 
date ap|)eal  ;  rather,  this  shall  be  your  he- 
roic challenge  .  "  Who  shall  lay  any  thing 
to  the  charge  of  God's  elect  ?  It  is  CJod 
that  juvtiiieth,  who  is  he  that  condemneth  ? 
It  is  Christ  that  died."  Rom.  viii.  ;3-3,  34. 
Then  shall  you  enter  the  harbour  of  eternal 
rest ;  not  like  a  shipwrecked  mariner  cleav- 
ing to  some  broken  plank,  and  hardly  es- 
caping the  raging  waves ;  but  like  some 
stately  vessel,  with  all  her  sails  expanded, 
and  riding  before  a  prosperous  gale. 

3.  Let  me  caution  the  self-righteous  ; 
those  who  more  frequently  think  of  their 
own  piety  than  of  Christ's  obedience  ;  are 
more  apt  to  cry  out  with  the  Pharisee,  "  I 
am  no  extortioner,  no  adulterer,"  than  to 
confess  with  the  publican,  "  God  be  merci- 
ful to  me  a  sinner."  W  hat  shall  I  say  to 
these  persons  ?  Let  me  not  be  thought  cen- 
sorious, when  my  only  aim  is  to  be  faithful, 
lieware,  I  beseech  you,  beware  lest  you 
liuild  for  eternity,  not  on  a  rock,  but  on 
the  sand.  However  you  may  apfiear  in 
your  own  sight,  before  the  adorable  majesty 
of  the  everlasting  God,  before  the  consum- 
mate perfection  of  his  holy  law,  yon  are  less 
than  nothing,  yon  are  worse  than  nothing; 
you  are,  indeed  you  are,  deficiency  and  sin. 
Renounce,  therefore,  renounce  all  depend- 
ence on  self.  Trust  no  longer  in  a  refuge 
of  lies  ;  lest  all  your  admired  atiainments, 
at  the  day  of  final  retribution,  be  like  straw, 
and  hay,  and  stid)ble,  in  rsebuchadnezi!,ar"s 
burning  fiery  furnace.  Imitate  the  blessed 
pemnan  of  my  text.  Are  you  blameless  in 
your  external  carriage?  so  was  he.  Are 
you  cxcm))lary  in  many  points  ?  so  was  he. 
Yet  all  this  righteousness  he  "  accounted 
but  dung,  for  the  excellency  of  the  know- 
ledge of  Christ  .lesus  the  Lord."  Phil.  iii. 
8.  Re  this  your  pattern.  Write  emptiness 
upon  yoiu'  own  duties,  emptiness  upon  your 


the  fulness  of  God  your  Saviour.  Every 
other  cause  of  glorying  will  be  like  the 
morning  cloud,  or  the  early  dew,  which 
passeth  away,  Hos.  vi.  4,  but  this  cause  of 
glorying  will  "  stand  fast  for  evermore  as 
the  moon,  and  as  the  faithful  witness  in 
heaven."  Psalm  Ixxxix.  37. 

Can  I  conclude  without  adding  a  word 
of  admonition  to  the  wicked  ?  those,  I 
mean,  who  are  enemies  to  the  cross  of 
Chiist ;  who  mind  earthly  things,  but  nei- 
ther hunger  nor  thirst  after  righteousness. 
My  soul  remembers  the  wormwood  and  the 
gall  of  such  a  state,  and  eaimot  but  tenderly 
pity  these  unhappy  people.  Alas  I  my 
friends,  what  have  you  to  glory  in  ?  The 
devil  and  his  angels  expect,  ere  long,  to  glory 
in  your  destruction.  Those  malignant  fiends 
are  eyeing  you  as  their  prey,  and  are  impa- 
tient tobeginyourtorment.  Great, inexpres- 
sibly great,  is  your  danger :  the  Lord  Al- 
mighty open  your  eyes  to  discern  it.  Never- 
theless, your  case  is  not  desperate.  You 
may  yet  be  delivered,  "  as  a  bird  out  of  the 
snare  of  the  fowler."  Look  unto  the  crucified 
.Tesus.  Why  does  he  hang  on  that  bloody 
tree  ?  why  are  his  hands  jjierced  with  iron  ? 
why  is  his  body  racked  with  pain  ?  why  his 
heart  torn  with  anguish?  Itisfor  yousinners, 
for  you.  That  blood  is  poured  out,  to  cleanse 
you  from  guilt ;  those  wounds  are  sustained, 
to  heal  your  consciences  ;  that  anguish  is  en- 
dured, to  obtain  rest  for  your  souls.  In  that 
mangled  body  "  dwells  all  the  fulness  of 
the  Godhead."  Col.  ii.  9.  Great,  beyond 
imagination  great,  is  the  merit  of  those  suf- 
ferings. Why  then,  O  why  will  you  die  I 
why  will  you  perish  for  ever,  who  have  an  all- 
sufficient  propitiation  in  the  cross  of  Christ  ? 
Fly  to  this  sanctuary  :  fly,  before  it  be  too 
late  :  fly  without  a  moment's  delay.  It  is  an 
inviolable  sanctuary.  None  ever  perished 
that  fled  by  faith  to  the  compassionate  and 
divinely  compassionate  Redeemer.  His 
death  shall  be  a  full  satisfaction  for  your  ini- 
quities. A  sense  of  his  immensely  rich  good- 
ness shall  win  your  affections  ;  shall  incline 
(what  all  the  threatenings  of  damnation  could 
never  efiect)  shall  incline  you  to  loath  your 
sins,  and  to  love  his  service  ;  shall  smooth 
your  path,  and  expedite  your  prog:ress,  to  the 
regions  of  immortal  honour  and  joy. 

Having  now,  with  great  i)lainness  of 
speech,  addressed  my  brethren  in  the  min- 
istry ;  having  exhorted  believers,  cautioned 
the  self-righteous,  and  warned  the  wicked  ; 
let  me  commend  the  whole  to  your  serious 
recollection,  and  to  God's  gracious  bene- 
diction. And,  "  O  Lord  most  holy  !  O 
God  most  mighty !  O  holy  and  merciful 
Saviour !  by  thine  agony  and  bloody  sweat ; 
by  thy  cross  and  passion,"  let  not  the  word 
now  spoken  be  in  vain  in  the  Lord!  Amen, 
and  amen. 

2t 


THE 


TIME  OF  DANGER, 

THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY, 


AND 


THE  WAY  OF  HOLINESS ; 


The  subif/tnce  of  Three  Sermons  Preached  on  the  Public 
Fast  Days,  in  1 757. 


PREFACE. 


Should  any  one  ask,  "  Why  does  this 
author  publish  his  sermons,  when  the  fast 
is  gone  and  forgotten  ?"  For  this  very  rea- 
son he  pubhshes,  that  the  fast,  though  gone, 
may  not  be  forgotten  ;  that  we  may  remem- 
ber the  sms  we  confessed,  and  the  miseries 
we  deprecated  ;  remember  the  vows  of 
God,  which  are  still  upon  us  ;  and  the  snares 
of  death,  which  are  still  around  us. 

Should  it  be  further  asked,  "  Why  does 
he  obtrude  himself  on  the  public,  when  so 
many  eminent  writers  have  already  made 
their  appearance  ?  Does  he  bring  with  him 
any  distinguished  excellency  of  composition, 
any  superior  force  of  argument,  or  uncom- 
mon delicacy  of  sentiment  ?"  No  such  thing. 
He 'pretends  to  nothing  refined  or  extraor- 
dinary ;  he  affects  neither  brilliant  thought 
nor  polished  style  :  equally  remote  from 
nice  criticism  and  profound  learning,  his 
discourses  are  studiously  plain,  and  brought 
down  to  the  level  of  the  meanest  capacity. 

"  What  then  is  his  motive  ?"  This  is  the 
very  truth.  In  several  of  the  sermons  pub- 
lished on  this  occasion,  the  one  thing  need- 
ful seems  to  be  overlooked.  Christ  and  his 
free  grace,  Christ  and  his  great  salvation, 
are  either  totally  omitted,  or  but  slightly 
touched.  Where  these  are  but  slightly 
touched,  the  door  of  hope  and  the  city  of 
refuge  are  shown,  as  it  were,  through  a  mist, 
dimly  and  indistinctly.  We  have  no  more 
than  a  transient  glimpse  of  the  desirable 
objects  ;  and  only  so  much  light  as  is  suffi- 
cient to  bewilder,  rather  than  direct.  Where 
they  are  totally  omitted,  the  door  of  hope  is 
barred,  and  the  city  of  refuge  withdrawn 
from  our  view.  In  this  case,  being  without 
Christ,  we  are  without  consolation ;  and 
may  justly  complain,  with  the  mourning 
prophet,  "  The  Comforter,  that  should  re- 
lieve our  souls,  is  far  oif." 

Through  the  following  discourses,  a  con- 
stant regard  is  paid  to  the  redemption  which 
is  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  to  his  all-atoning  blood, 
and  his  everlasting  righteousness;  which  i 
are  the  grand  means,  both  of  comforting  our 
hearts,  and  sanctifying  our  nature.  Indeed, 
the  principal  aim  of  the  whole  is,  to  display 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  the  match- 
less efficacy  of  his  death,  and  that  perfect 
freeness  with  which  all  his  invaluable  bt-ne- 
fits  are  bestowed.  "  To  those  who  believe, 
he  is  precious:"  and  to  those  who  are  con- 
vinced of  sin,  these  salutarv  truths  will  be 


their  own  best  recommendation.  Sttch 
readers  will  excuse  a  multitude  of  blemishes, 
provided  they  find  .lesus  who  was  crucified  ; 
Jesus,  who  IS  the  desire  of  all  nations  ;  Je- 
sus, than  whom  no  other  foundation  can  be 
laid,  either  for  present  holiness  or  future 
happiness. 

As  these  sermons  were  not  preached  to 
gratify  a  curious  taste,  neither  are  they  pub- 
lished with  any  fond  prospect  of  reforming 
a  sinful  nation.  Sincerely  as  the  author 
loves  his  country,  and  ardently  as  he  desires 
the  saivation  of  his  countrymen,  he  is  not 
so  vainly  sanguine  in  his  expectHtions.  But 
this  he  will  venture  to  assert,  that  if  ever  a 
reformation  is  produced,  k  must,  under 
the  influences  of  the  eternal  Sjiirit,  be 
produced  by  the  doctrines  of  free  grace,  and 
justification  through  a  Redeemer's  righteous- 
ness. Till  these  doctrines  are  generally  in- 
culcated, the  most  eloquent  harangues  from 
the  pulpit,  or  the  most  correct  dissertations 
from  the  press,  will  be  no  better  than  a 
pointless  arrow  and  a  broken  bow. 

This  also  he  will  venture  to  hope,  that 
the  discourses  may  here  and  there  meet 
with  some  poor  sinner,  who  is  smitten  with 
a  sense  of  guilt,  and  alarmed  with  appre- 
hensions of  danger  ;  who  <lesires  nothing  so 
much  as  to  find  a  resting-place,  where  he 
may  be  free  from  the  terrors  of  cciscience, 
and  safe  in  the  day  of  trouble.  This  fiee- 
dom  and  this  safety  are  to  be  found  only, 
are  to  be  found  infallibly,  in  the  blessed  Je- 
sus and  the  blood  of  sprinkling.  If  such  a 
readei-,  by  the  following  pages,  is  conduct- 
ed to  this  divine  sanctuary,  the  writer  is 
satisfied,  is  rewarded,  enjoys  the  utmost  of 
his  wishes. 

Then,  instead  of  soliciting  the  voice  of 
fame,  or  coveting  the  wreath  of  honour  ;  in- 
stead of  giving  himself  any  concern  about 
the  officious  critic  ;  he  will  thankfully  adore 
that  Almighty  hand  "  which  confirmeth  the 
word  of  his  .servant,  and  performeth  the 
counsel  of  his  messengers."  Isa.  xliv.  '26. 
For,  oh  !  how  insipid  is  the  praise  of  men, 
compared  with  the  exalted  pleasure  of  glo- 
rifying God,  and  edifying  an  immortal  soul ! 
How  harmless  is  defamation  from  a  feilow- 
creature,  when  our  great  Creator  smiles  ; 
and  is  pleased,  by  "  weak  things,  and  by 
things  that  are  despised,"  1  Cor.  i.  27,  .28, 
to  accomplish  the  jjurposes  of  his  infinite 
grace  and  everlasting  love. 


SERMON   V. 


THE  TIME  OF  DANGER. 


Hkb.  xi.  28.—"  Through  faith  he  kept  the  passover,  and  the  sprinkling  of  blood,  lest  he  hat  destroyod  the 
fir8t-bom  should  touch  them." 


If  we  consult  the  history  to  which  these 
words  refer,  we  shall  find  the  Israelites  in 
a  state  of  great  affliction.  The  Egyptians 
oppressed  them  ;  very  heavily  laid  the  yoke 
upon  them  ;  and  made  their  lives  bitter  with 
hard  bondage.  The  misery  of  his  people 
God  pities,  and  is  resolved  to  redress.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  sends  Moses,  in  the  quality 
of  his  ambassador,  to  demand  their  release. 
The  king  of  Egypt  most  insolently  replies, 
"  Who  is  the  Lord,  that  I  should  obey  his 
voice,  to  let  Israel  go  ?  I  know  not  the 
Lord,  neither  will  I  let  Israel  go."  God, 
to  chastise  his  insolence  and  obstinacy,  in- 
flicts a  variety  of  plagues  on  him  and  his 
subjects  ;  in  contempt  of  all  which,  Pharaoh 
hardens  his  heart,  persists  in  his  disobedi- 
ence, and  refuses  to  let  the  people  go.  At 
last,  says  the  Lord,  "  I  will  bring  one 
plague  more  upon  Pharaoh  and  upon  Egypt," 
Exod.  xi.  1,  which  shall  infallibly  accom- 
plish my  purpose.  Be  their  hearts  hard  as 
the  nether-mill-stone,  this  shall  make  them 
feel  :  be  their  resolution  stubborn  as  an 
iron  sinew,  this  shall  make  it  bend.  "  About 
midnight  will  I  go  out  into  the  midst  of 
Egypt,  and  all  the  first-born  in  the  land  of 
Egypt  shall  die."  Exod.  xi.  4-,  3. 

But  as  the  Israelites  then  dwelt  in  Egypt, 
how  should  they  be  safe  amidst  the  general 
desolation?  Will  it  be  said,  the  Israelites, 
being  the  people  of  God,  were  not  exposed 
to  this  punishment,  had  no  reason  to  fear 
the  infliction  of  this  vengeance  ?  None  that 
remembers  how  all  the  world  is  become 
guilty  before  God,  will  affirm  this;  none 
that  considers  how  rebellious  and  idolatrous 
the  Israelites  were,  can  suppose  this.  And 
every  one  who  has  read  Ezek.  xx.  8,  must 
allow,  that  there  was  no  difference  in  this 
respect.  The  one  people  were  criminal  as 
well  as  the  other.      All  of  them  most  righ- 


teously  deserved  the  afflictive  stroke.  Grace, 
free  and  sovereign  grace  alone,  must  make 
the  distinction. 

Since  this  was  the  case,  it  may  reasona- 
bly be  asked,  how  shall  the  Israelites  be 
safe  ?  The  Lord  himself  directs  Aloses  to 
a  method,  which  should  effectually  secure 
all  the  families  of  Israel,  while  death  en- 
tered into  every  habitation  of  the  Egypti- 
ans. The  method,  its  execution,  and  suc- 
cess, are  all  specified  in  the  text :  "  By  faith 
Moses  kept  the  passover,  and  the  sprinkling 
of  blood,  lest  he  that  destroyed  the  first-born 
should  touch  them."  Where  we  may  ob- 
serve, 

I.  A  very  dreadful  danger  ;  signified  by 
the  destruction  of  the  first-born. 

II.  A  method  of  security  fi-om  this  dan- 
ger ;  effected  by  keepim/  the  passover,  and  the 
blood  of  sprinkling. 

III.  The  success  of  this  method;  de- 
noted by  the  destroyer  not  so  much  as  touch- 
imj  them- 

The  good  Lord  enable  us  to  open  and 
apply  the  words  thus  divided !  Then  we 
shall  see  their  suitableness  to  the  present 
occasion  ;  and,  I  hope,  feel  their  salutary 
influence  on  our  souls. 

I.   A  very  dreadful  danger  ;  signified  by 

the    destruction    of    the    first-born The 

Lord  had  already  put  his  hand  to  the  sword. 
It  was  even  now  drawn  from  the  scabbard, 
and  had  received  a  commission  to  go  forth  ; 
to  go  forth  that  very  night ;  to  walk  through 
all  the  land  of  Egypt ;  and  to  be  bathed 
before  the  morning  light  in  the  blood  of  the 
first-born,  all  the  first-born,  from  the  haugh- 
ty king  that  sat  on  the  throne,  even  to  the 
slave  that  toiled  at  the  mill,  and  the  very 
sheep  that  yeaned  in  the  field.  Tremen- 
dous, as  well  as  inevitable  blow  !  O  what 
an  alarm  will  it  create,   and  what   alUictiou 


646 


THE  TIME  OF  DANGER. 


will  it  spread  '.  make  every  heart  sad,  and 
every  house  a  scene  of  mourning  !  "  There 
shall  be  a  great  ci-y  throughout  all  the  land 
of  Egypt,  such  as  there  was  none  like  it, 
nor  shall  be  like  it  any  more."  Exod.  xi.  6. 

And  is  not  the  present  time  a  time  of 
immment  danger?  are  not  the  judgments 
of  the  Almighty  now  abroad  in  the  world  ? 
have  not  earthquakes  shaken  kingdoms,  and 
rent  the  foundations  of  nature  ?  have  they 
not  spread  terror  through  our  own  and  dis- 
tant nations  ;  laid  wealthy  towns  and  mag- 
nificent cities  in  ruin  ;  and  swallowed  up  or 
destroyed  unknown  multitudes  of  our  fel- 
low-creatures ? 

Is  not  the  sword  of  slaughter  drawn  ?  has 
not  war  hung  out  her  bloody  flag  ?  are  not 
the  flames  kindled  in  Europe  and  America  ; 
on  the  land  and  on  the  ocean  ?  are  they  not 
gathering  strength  daily ;  spreading  their 
rage  continually ;  and  threatening  to  over- 
run all  ? 

If  we  were  evidently  superior  to  our  ene- 
mies in  number  and  power,  in  vigilance  and 
unanimity,  yet  the  events  of  military  under- 
takings are  very  uncertain.  "  The  battle  is 
not  always  to  the  strong,"  Eccles.  ix.  II. 
Success  and  victory  depend  upon  a  hand 
higher  far  than  the  arm  of  flesh.  "  With- 
out me,"  saith  the  Lord,  "  they  shall  bow 
down  under  the  prisoners,  and  they  shall 
fall  under  the  slain."  Isaiah  x.  4'. 

But  are  we  not  at  war  with  one  of  the 
most  potent,  insidious,  enterprising  king- 
doms in  the  world  ?  Is  there  not  great  rea- 
son to  suppose,  that  they  will  soon  be  join- 
ed by  their  neighbours  the  Spaniards?  And 
if  we  have  been  worsted  by  one,  how  shall 
we  contend  with  their  united  force  ?  Con- 
sidering the  situation  and  behaviour  of  the 
ungrateful  Austrians,  have  we  not  cause  to 
guspect  the  junction  of  a  third  popish  power 
against  our  religion  and  liberty  ?  Will  not 
the  court  of  Rome,  with  all  her  bigotted 
adherents,  urge  and  instigate  them  to  be 
active  in  this  confederacy?*  will  they  not 
at  this  juncture,  the  most  favourable  for 
the  prosecution  of  their  purpose  that  any 
age  has  aflbrded,  or  their  own  sanguine  zeal 
can  desire — will  they  not  exert  their  utmost 
ability  to  crush  the  Protestant  cause,  and 
extirpate  the  Protestant  name  ? 

Should  the  enemy  make  a  descent  upon 
pur  island,  what  can  we  expect,  but  that 
our  island  be  turned  into  a  field  of  blood  ? 
They  who  have  always  been  jealous  of  our 


•  When  the  pope  heard  of  the  alliance  lately  es- 
tablished between  the  houses  of  Bourbon,  and  Aus- 
tria, Hungary,  and  Bohemia,  strengthened  by  the 
unexpected  accessiou  of  Russia,  he  cried  out  with  an 
air  of  triumph,  O  adnnrabi'le  commerciutn  iceneris 
humani .'  "  Admirable  association  and  intercourse 
of  mankind!"  Promising  himself,  I  suppose,  fron^ 
this  remarkable  turn  of  affairs,  such  artv?.ntaqe»  to 
the  cause  and  intertsts  of  popery  as,  exceeded  even 
»U  his  hopes. 


interest  and  influence,  have  now  added  r.ifje 
to  their  jealousy.  Their  resentment,  like 
the  burning  fiery  furnace,  is  heated  seven 
times  hotter  than  usual.  We  should  cer- 
tainly find  them,  as  the  Scripture  speaks,  a 
bitter  and  hasty  nation,  Hab.  i.  6,  and, 
without  the  spirit  of  prophecy,  may  venture 
to  declare.  Wo  be  to  England,  if  God 
should  Tiow  deliver  it  into  the  hands  of  the 
Freueh. 

Some  perhaps  may  cry,  "  These  fears  are 
all  chimerical.  There  is  no  ground  for 
such  discouraging  suggestions.  We  do 
not  question  but  we  shall  be  a  match,  and 
more  than  a  match  for  our  adversaries." 
To  this  confident  boasting  let  not  my 
tongue,  but  let  the  course  of  events,  let  the 
disposals  of  providence  reply.  Have  we, 
then,  been  superior  in  the  day  of  trial  ? 
Alas  !  have  we  not  lost  Minorca  ?  is  not 
Oswego  gone  ?  a  general  slain,  and  his  army 
cut  in  pieces?  an  admiral  condemned  to  he 
shot  to  death,  and  his  fleet  defeated  by  an 
inferior  number  of  the  enemy's  ships?  Are 
not  ravages  and  depredations  made  almost 
continually  upon  our  colonies  in  America  ; 
and  horrible  unheard-of  cruelties  committed 
by  the  savages  on  the  persons  of  our  fellow- 
subjects?  What  have  we  reaped  from  the 
late  CHmpaign,  but  disappointment,  loss, 
and  shame? 

Ai-e  not  all  these  things  apparently  against 
us  ?  will  they  not  dispirit  our  men,  and  im- 
bolden  our  foes?  will  they  not  make  our 
allies  backward  to  come  in  with  their  suc- 
cours, and  render  the  powers  that  are  un- 
engaged afraid  to  declare  themselves  on  our 
side  ? 

All  these  circumstances  considered,  the 
present  appears  to  be  a  time  of  uncommon 
danger ;  aflairs,  look  wherever  we  will, 
wear  a  lowering  aspect.  "  Our  sky  is 
black  with  clouds,  and  there  is  the  sound 
of  abundance  of  rain."  1  Kings  xviii.  ^I. 
Jtidgments  seem,  more  than  seem,  to  be 
hovering  all  around  us.  How  soon  they 
may  fall,  God  only  knows  ! 

"  If  God  indeed  were  for  us,"  we  might 
trust,  and  not  be  afraid;  we  might  look 
danger  in  the  face,  and  boldly  say,  "  Who 
shall  be  against  us?"  Rom,  viii.  31.  But 
is  this  the  case?  are  we  "a  righteous  na- 
tion, that  keepeth  the  truth  ?"  Isaiah  xxvi. 
•2.  Is  there  sufficient  reason  to  believe,  that 
the  Holy  One  of  Israel  is  our  defence  ?  Are 
we  not,  on  the  contrary,  a  sinful  generation, 
a  people  laden  with  iniquity  ?  is  there  not 
abundant  reason  to  fear  lest  our  God  should 
say,  in  terrible  indignation,  "They  are  joined 
to  idols,  let  them  alone  ?"  Hos.  iv.  J  7, 
In  order  to  determine  this  point,  let  us  ex- 
amine our  ways.  Nothing  can  be  more 
proper  for  a  day  of  humiliation.  Are  not 
we,  like  the  Egyptimis,  in  a  state  of  greiit 
danger?  it  we  consider, 


THE  TIME  OF  DANGER. 


64.7 


1.  The  svis  of  our  nation. 

2.  The  judf/meuts  of  God  denounced  up- 
on such  sins. 

3.  The  certain  execution  of  those  judg- 
ments, unless  we  i\y  to  the  appointed  re- 
fuge. 

1 .  Consider  the  sins  of  our  nation.  Here 
I  shall  mention  some,  and  only  some  of 
those  abominations,  which,  wherever  they 
are  found,  cannot  fail  to  provoke  the  eyes 
of  God's  glory,  and  render  either  a  person 
or  a  people  ripe  for  his  vengeance. 

The  Christian  Sabbath  is  an  inestimable 
privilege  to  the  church  of  Christ ;  it  is  a 
happy  means  of  building  us  up  in  know- 
ledge, of  establishing  us  in  faith,  and  pre- 
paring us  for  our  everlasting  rest.  Yet,  is 
it  not  shamefully  jjrofaned  in  city  and  in 
country?  What  multitudes  waste  it  in  idle- 
ness, or  squander  it  away  in  unedifjing 
conversation  ;  making  it  by  far  the  most 
useless  and  contemptible  day  of  the  week  ? 
This  they  do  even  though  God  strictly 
charges,  saying,  "  Remember  ye  the  Sab- 
bath day,"  not  barely  to  abstain  from  your 
ordinary  works,  but  to  keep  it  holy," 
Exod.  XX.  8,  devoting  it  entirely  to  holy 
purposes,  and  religious  exercises.  This 
they  do,  even  though  God  solemnly  threat- 
ens, saying,  "  If  ye  will  not  hearken  unto 
me,  to  hallow  the  Sabbath  day,  then  will 
I  kindle  a  tire  in  your  gates,  and  it  shall 
devour  the  palaces  of  Jerusalem,  and 
it  shall  not  be  quenched."  Jer.  xvii. 
27. 

Is  not  the  name  of  God  great,  wonder- 
ful, and  holy  ?  ought  it  not  to  be  used  with 
the  deepest  veneration,  and  magiiitied  above 
all  things  ?  But  is  it  not  audaciously  dis- 
honoured, and  impiously  blasphemed?  dis- 
honoured by  customary  and  wanton,  blas- 
phemed by  false  and  j)erfidious  swearing  ? 
Has  not  the  most  high  God  declared,  that 
he  will  in  no  wise  hold  such  daring  wretches 
guiltless  ?  Yet  how  do  these  daring  wretches 
swarm,  like  the  locusts  of  society,  in  our 
])olluted  land  !  O  England,  how  is  thy  air 
tainted  with  this  breath  of  the  infernal  i)it ! 
liow  do  thy  streets  resound,  most  horribly 
resound,  with  this  language  of  hell !  And 
will  not  the  Almighty  Lord  make  thee 
know,  know  by  bitter  experience,  what 
that  meaneth  which  is  sjwken  by  his  pro- 
jihet,  "  Because  of  swearing,  the  land 
mourneth."  Jer.  xxiii.  10,  mourncth  under 
alilicting  visitations,  and  desolating  judg- 
ments ? 

Is  not  the  Scrijjture  a  singular  blessing  ? 
Yes,  it  is  celebrated  by  the  Fsahnist  as  the 
sovereign  blessing  ;  that  whicii  crowns  the 
other  instances  of  divine  goodness ;  "  He 
sheweth  his  word  unto  Jacob,  his  statutes 
and  ordinances  unto  Israel."  It  is  also 
celebrated  as  a  most  distinguishing  bless- 
ing, from  whicli   multitudes  are  excluded  ; 


"  He  hath  not  dealt  so  with  all  nations, 
neither  have  the  heathen  knowledge  of  his 
laws,"  Psalm  cxlvii.  19,  20.  Should  not 
then  the  Scripture  be  precious  to  our 
souls  ;  more  precious  than  fine  gold ; 
sweeter  also  than  honey,  and  the  droppings 
of  the  honeycomb  ?  Should  we  not  ex- 
ercise ourselves  in  it  day  and  night,  Psalm 
i.  2  ;  reading  it  by  day,  meditating  on  it  by 
night  ?  Should  we  not  make  it  the  most 
delightful  subject  of  our  conversation  ;  talk 
of  it  to  our  children,  our  domestics,  our 
neighbours ;  when  we  lie  down,  and  rise 
up  ;  when  we  walk  by  the  way,  and  sit  in 
the  house?  Dent.  vi.  7.  But  where  are  the 
])ersons  who  bear  such  a  superlative  esteem 
for  the  Bible  ?  where  is  the  company  that 
delights  to  converse  on  those  oracles  of 
truth?  where  are  the  parents  that  diligently 
instruct  their  children,  and  feed  them  with 
the  milk  of  the  word  ?  Diversion  of  every 
kind  engages  their  attention,  and  the  most 
trilling  impertinence  employs  their  tongue  ; 
but  the  Lord's  word  is  insipid,  if  not  irk- 
some. His  word  is  treated,  even  by  Pro- 
testants, as  the  manna  was  treated  by  the 
Israelites,  who  had  the  ingratitude  and  im- 
pudence to  say,  "  Our  soul  loatheth  this 
light  bread,"  Numb.  xxi.  5.  A  plague 
from  the  Lord  of  hosts  was  the  conse- 
quence of  their  contemptuous  treatment  of 
the  meat  that  perisheth.  Of  'how  much 
sorer  punishment  shall  we  be  thought  wor- 
thy, who  contemn  the  food  which  endur- 
eth  to  everlasting  life  ? 

God  hath  reserved  the  unjust,  saith  the 
Scripture,  unto- the  day  of  judgment,  to  be 
punished;  "chiefly  those  who  walk  after 
the  ilesh  in  the  lusts  of  uncleaimess,"2  Pet. 
ii.  1(J.  Is  not  this  iniquity  rampant  among 
the  inhabitants  of  England  ?  What  lewd 
pictures  are  exposed  to  view  !  what  filthy 
writings  are  suffered  to  see  the  light !  fuel 
for  lust,  and  incentives  to  debauchery. 
What  is  wit,  in  our  days,  but  either  some 
lascivious  hint,  or  some  licentious  abuse  of 
Scripture?  Are  not  the  wanton  enter- 
taimnents  of  the  stage,  and  other  semina- 
ries of  lewdness,  countenanced,  supported, 
thronged  ?  Can  you  acquit  our  cities  and 
towns  of  drunkenness,  revellings,  and 
abominable  excesses?  Ara  not  these,  and 
all  soits  of  filthiness,  found  in  our  skirts  ? 
If  so,  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord,  and  let  it 
sink  deep  into  every  heart;  "  when  I  had 
fed  them  to  the  full,  they  then  commit- 
ted adultery,  and  assembled  themselves 
by  troops  in  the  harlots'  houses.  .They 
uerc  i!s  fed  horses  in  the  morning;  every 
one  neighed  after  his  neighbour's  wife. 
Shall  1  not  visit  for  these  things?  saith  the 
Lord;  and  shall  not  my  soul  be  avenged 
on  such  a  nation  as  this  ?"  Jer.  v.  7,  8,  9. 

Is  not  religion,  vital  religion,  very  niudh 
iipon  the    decline?       Does   it   not,    tven 


CIS 


THE  TIME  OF  DANGER. 


among  the  serious,  wear  a  sickly  dying  as- 
pect? What  multitudes  profess  to  know 
God,  but  in  works  deny  him  ?  and,  quite 
destitute  of  the  power  of  godliness,  content 
themselves  with  the  mere  form  ?  Where- 
as, if  any,  in  imitation  of  the  first  believers 
and  preachers,  aie  fervent  in  spirit,  serving 
the  Lord  with  alacrity  and  zeal  ;  these  per- 
sons, instead  of  being  encouraged,  are  op- 
posed ;  instead  of  being  esteemed,  are  re- 
proached. Of  such  persons  even  the  ma- 
lignant spirit  could  bear  witness,  "  These 
are  the  servants  of  the  most  high  God,  who 
shew  unto  us  the  way  of  salvation,"  Acts 
xvi.  17.  But  among  us,  who  call  ourselves 
Christians,  who  pique  ourselves  upon  be- 
ing the  purest  church  in  Christendom  ; 
among  us,  such  persons  are  deemed  the 
visionaries  of  the  age,  the  disturbers  of  so- 
ciety, and  the  men  that  would  "  turn  the 
world  upside  down,"  Acts  xvii.  6.  The 
ministers  who  are  most  faithful,  and  the 
people  who  are  most  exemplary,  are  a  de- 
rision and  a  bye-word  among  their  neigh- 
bours. Thus,  in  Israel,  "  they  mocked  the 
messengers  of  God,  and  despised  his  words, 
and  misused  his  prophets."  But  it  was  to 
the  confusion  of  those  scoffers,  and  the  ruin 
of  their  country ;  "  for  the  wrath  of  the 
Lord  arose  against  his  people,  till  there  was 
10  remedy.  Therefore  he  brought  upon 
hem  the  king  of  the  Chaldees,  who  slew 
their  young  men  with  the  sword,  in  the 
house  of  their  sanctuary  ;  and  had  no  com- 
passion upon  young  man  or  maiden,  old 
man,  or  him  that  stooped  for  age,"  2  Chron. 
xxxvi.  16,  27, 

Are  we  not  abandoned  to  a  spirit  of  car- 
qal  confidence  ?  When  do  we  discover 
my  reliance  on  the  Almighty,  or  ascribe 
iny  of  our  success  to  his  gracious  interpo- 
sition ?  It  is  not  God,  but  our  sword  that 
shall  help  us.  Or,  if  any  unseen  power 
is  acknowledged,  it  is  not  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  but  good  fortune.  One  would 
almost  imagine,  that  we  were  ashamed  of  a 
heavenly  ally ;  and  thought  it  a  disgrace  to 
own  ourselves  dependent  on  Omnipotence. 
Is  not  such  a  temper  a  national  infatuation, 
-  and  the  harbinger  of  national  judgments? 
Zedekiah  and  the  men  of  Judah  forgot  or 
neglected  the  Rock  of  their  salvation,  and 
made  Pharaoh's  army  their  confidence. 
But  see  what  was  the  issue,  or  hear  it  from 
the  mouth  of  him  who  fulfilled  the  word 
of  his  servants  :  "  Though  ye  had  smitten 
the  whole  army  of  the  Chaldean?  that  fight 
against  you,  and  there  remained  but  wound- 
ed men  among  them,  yet  should  they  rise 
up  every  man  in  his  tent,  and  burn  this 
city  with  fire,"  Jer.  xxxvii.  10. 

8hould  you  say.  This  is  a  false  charge  ; 
have  we  not  this  very  day  publicly  acknow- 
ledged, that,  "  without  the  divine  aid,  the 
wisest  counsels  of  frail  men,  and  the  mul- 


titude of  an  host,  and  all  the  instruments 
of  war,  are  but  weak  and  vain  ?"'  Have  we 
not  likewise  expressly  declared;  that,  "  not 
confiding  in  the  splendour  of  any  thing  that 
is  great,  or  the  stability  of  any  thing  that 
is  strong  here  below,  we  do  most  humbly 
dee  to  the  Lord  for  succour,  and  put  our 
trust  under  the  shadow  of  hjs  wings  ?"*  I 
would  to  God  we  believed  that  acknow- 
ledgment, and  acted  conformably  to  this 
declaration-  We  should  then  be  very  dili- 
gent to  propagate  religion  among  our  sol- 
diers and  sailors  ;  we  should  seek  for  such 
officers  and  commanders  as  are  men  fear- 
ing God ;  we  should  be  as  desirous  to  es- 
tablish our  troops  in  godliness,  as  to  train 
them  up  in  military  discipline.  But  is  it 
thus  with  our  army  ?  is  it  thus  with  oiu- 
navy  ? — Visit  a  man  of  war  :  You  will 
think  yourself,  not  in  one  of  the  bulwarks 
of  our  island,  but  in  a  little  hell.  Observe 
the  gentlemen  of  the  sword :  Concerning 
the  generality  of  them  you  will  have  reason 
to  ask.  Are  these  Christians  ?  are  they  not 
incarnate  devils  ?t  And  can  we  expect 
that  the  infinitely  pure  God  will  go  forth 
with  such  hosts  ?  wiU  he  not  rather  become 
"  their  enemy,  and  light  against  them  ?" 
Isaiah  Ixiii.  10. 

What  ignorance  prevails,  especially 
among  the  lower  ranks  of  people  !  The 
grossest  ignorance  of  themselves  and  of 
God  our  Saviour ;  the  grossest  ignorance 
of  grace  and  salvation  by  a  Redeemer's 
righteousness  ;  the  grossest  ignorance  of 
the  very  first  principles  of  our  holy  reli- 
gion. To  do  evil  they  are  wise ;  but  to  do 
good,  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  to  love 
and  glorify  him  who  bought  sinners  with 
his  blood  ;  to  do  all,  to  do  any  of  this,  they 
have  no  knowledge.  And  is  it  a  small 
matter  to  be  thus  children  of  darkness  ? 
is  not  the  soul  alienated  from  the  life  of 
God  through  ignorance?  Eph.  iv.  18  ;  does 
not  this  displease  the  most  high  God,  and 
provoke  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  ?  Let  his 
own  word  determine  ;  "  It  is  a  people  of 
no  understanding ;  therefore,  he  that  made 
them,  will  not  have  mercy  on  them,  and 
he  that  formed  them,  will  shew  them  no 
favour,"  Isa.  xxvii.  11.  Are  these  impo- 
tent menaces  made  only  to  be  contemned  ? 
then  we  may  dismiss  our  fears.  But  if  they 
are  the  word  of  God,  which  liveth  and  abid- 
eth  for  ever,  then  we  have  reason  to  cry, 
"  What  will  become  of  England  ?" 

In  a  word,  religion,  both  as  to  knowledge 
and  practice,  was  never  at  so  low  an  ebb, 
since  the  Reformation  took  place ;  nor 
luxury,  and    immorality  of   every  kind,  at 


«  The  form  of  prayer  appointed  for  the  fast. 

t  Does  this  sou  lid  harsh  .'  or  will  any  other  part 
of  the  charge  advanced  in  these  discourses  prove  of- 
fensive? I  am  sorry  there  should  be  any  occasion 
for  such  language  :  But  I  dare  not  retract  it. 


THE   TIME  or   DANGER. 


649 


such  an  enormous  heigiit.  Where  now 
are  our  rulers  ?  Are  they  zealous  for  God, 
and  valiant  for  the  truth  ?  have  they  cour- 
ajfe  to  stem  the  torrent,  or  to  oppose  the 
overflowings  of  ungodliness?  Where  are 
the  grandees  and  magistrates  ?  Warm  with 
generous  indignation,  do  they  snatch  the 
spear;  and,  like  the  gallant  Phinehas,  snnte 
through  the  loins  of  iniquity?  Alas!  have 
not  our  great  men  "  altogether  broken  the 
yoke,  and  hurst  the  bonds  ?"  Jer.  v.  5.  Are 
they  not,  generally  speaking,  the  ringleaders 
in  transgression  ;  as  ennnent  for  their  con- 
tempt of  God,  as  for  the  aflluence  of  their 
circumstances  ?  "  Yea,  the  hand  of  the 
princes  and  rulers  hath  been  chief  in  the 
several  trespasses,"  Ezra  ix.  2.  But  will 
that  dignity  which  thiy  have  abused  ;  will 
that  authority  which  was  lent  them  for  bet- 
ter purj)oses  ;  will  those  distinctions  be  a 
security  to  them  or  their  country  in  the  day 
of  visitation  ?  Hear  what  the  righteous  I,ord 
says,  Avho  is  higher  than  the  highest,  and 
able  to  execute  all  his  deciees  ;  "  It  is  the 
sword  of  the  great  men  that  are  slain,  which 
entereth  into  their  privy  chambers.  I  have 
set  the  point  of  the  sword  against  all  their 
gates,  that  their  hearts  may  faint,  and  their 
ruins  be  nuiltiplied,"  Ezek.  xxi.  14,  15. 
Gates,  be  they  ever  so  strongly  fortified,  or 
ever  so  faithfully  guarded,  are  no  fence 
against  the  point  of  Jehovah's  sword.  And, 
if  sin  is  suffered  to  enter,  judgments  wili 
assuredly  follow :  judgments  will  follow  even 
the  most  powerful  and  wealthy  sinners  ;  will 
pursue  them  like  an  eager  blood-hound  ; 
will  haunt  them  like  a  dismal  ghost ;  will 
force  a  way  into  their  palaces,  nay,  into  their 
closest  retirements;  and  never  remit  the 
chase,  till  fainting  of  heart  ends  in  multipli- 
ed rum — in  the  ruin  of  themselves,  their 
families,  their  country. 

Amidst  all  these  crying  evils,  are  we  not 
presumptuously  secure  ?  is  there  not  a  de- 
plorable spirit  of  stupidity,  which  blinds  our 
eyes,  and  renders  us  insensible  ?  Scarce 
any  one  lays  these  miseries  and  dangers  to 
heart.  Who  mourneth  for  the  abomina- 
tions of  the  land  ?  who  stirreth  up  himself 
to  call  U])on  (lod,  if  so  be  he  may  yet  be 
entreated,  and  have  mercy  upon  Zion  ?  Are 
we  not  too  much  like  the  intoxicated  sinners 
of  the  old  world  ?  "  They  ate,  tluy  drank  ; 
they  bought,  they  sold  ;  they  jjlaiited,  they 
builded."  They  gave  themselves  wholly  up 
to  sensual  gratifications  and  inferior  cares, 
disregarding  all  the  admonitions  of  Noah, 
and  all  the  tokens  ef  impending  vengeance  ; 
"till  the  divine  long-sulfering  ceased  ;  the 
universal  flood  came,  and,  with  ii resistible 
violence,  swept  them  all  away,"  Luke  xvii. 
27.  Are  we  not  in  the  condition  of  those 
supine,  senseless  peoj)le,  spoken  of  by  the 
prophet  Zephaniah  ?  "  It  shall  conic  to  pass 
at  that  day,  that   I   will   search  Jeiusalem 


with  candles,  and  punish  the  men  that  are 
settled  upon  their  lees  ;  that  say  in  their 
heart.  The  Lord  will  not  do  good,  neither 
will  he  do  evil."  And  may  we  not  ju-tly 
expect  their  awful  doom  ?  "  Therefi  re  their 
goods  shall  become  a  booty,  and  their 
houses  a  desolation.  Their  blood  shall  be 
poured  out  as  dust,  and  their  flesh  as  the 
dung.  Neither  their  silver  nor  their  gold 
shall  be  able  to  deliver  them  in  the  day  of 
the  Lord's  wrath  :  but  the  v.hole  land  shall 
be  devoured  by  the  lire  of  his  jealousy," 
Zeph.  i.  12,  &c. 

As  a  farther  aggravation  of  our  crimes, 
have  we  not  been  incorrigible,  amidst  the 
most  compidsive  and  the  most  winning  mo- 
tives to  amendment  ?  We  have  been  visit- 
ed with  a  contagious  distemper  among  our 
cattle ;  which,  we  were  apprehensive,  might 
have  introduced  a  })lague  among  the  human 
race.  From  this  fear  we  have  been  deliver- 
ed ;  but  are  we  delivered  from  our  evil 
works,  and  have  we  renounced  all  luigodli- 
riess  ?  Rebellion  broke  out  in  our  island  ; 
threatening  to  overthrow  our  I'lotestant  go- 
vernment, and  deprive  us  of  our  reformed 
religion  ;  threatening  to  deprive  us  of  our 
liberty  and  its  jirivileges,  ot  our  peace  and 
its  comforts.  This  storm  also  was  soon  blown 
over,  andtraiiquillity  restored  to  our  land.  But 
did  we  return  every  one  to  the  Lord  our  God, 
«  ho  dealt  so  graciously  with  us  ?  Earth- 
quakes have  shattered  otherkingdoms,  have 
destroyed  other  cities  ;  while  they  only  ad- 
monished, not  injured,  us  and  ours.  Has 
this  goodness,  this  distinguishing  goodness 
of  God,  led  us  to  rejieiuance?  W  ere  we 
not  lately  preserved  from  the  most  calami- 
tous of  all  temporal  losses — from  losing 
the  precious  tmits  of  the  earth  ?  \\'hen  the 
corn  was  ripe,  and  ready  tor  the  sickle,  who 
can  forget  tile  lowering  sky,  and  the  descend- 
ing rains,  which  held  back  theliusbandman's 
hand,  and  forbade  the  gathering.  A  lew 
more  days  of  such  unseasonable  weatlier  had 
inevitably  s])oiIed  the  ])ioduce  of  the  ground, 
and  destroyed  the  staff  of  life.  But  divine 
Providence,  at  the  very  hour  of  need,  re- 
strained the  immoderate  showers  ;  bade  the 
sun  shine  forth  with  peculiar  brightness  ; 
and  gave  us  the  expected  weeks  of  the  har- 
vest :  thus  rescuing  us  from  famine,  per- 
haps from  pestilence,  probably  from  mu- 
tiny, certainly  from  a  train  of  evils,  the 
particulars  of  which  we  cannot  so  much  as 
imagine.  But  is  there  not  too  much  ground 
*or  the  complaint,  so  paihetically  urged,  and 
so  he(iuently  rcjicated,  by  the  pro]ihtt, 
"  Though  1  have  done  all  this  for  you,  yet 
have  ye  not  returned  unto  me,  saith  the 
Lord?"  Amos  iv.  (i.  8 — 11. 

Behold,  now,  the  state  of  our  nation. 
Our  sins  abound,  and  are  grown  up  to  hea- 
ven ;  sins  of  e\cry,  even  the  most  horrid 
kind  ;  sins  among  all  ranks,  from  the  highest 


650 


THE  TIME  OF  DANGER. 


to  the  lowest.  In  our  sins  we  persist, 
thoufTh  wooed,  as  it  were,  with  the  choicest 
mercies  ;  though  niade  to  smart  under  va- 
rious judgments  ;  though  threatened  with 
far  more  afflictive  visitations.  And  will  the 
gi-eat,  the  mighty,  tlie  immortal  God,  al- 
ways bear  with  such  a))eople?  will  he  receive 
the  most  horrible  indignities,  and  still,  still 
vel'rain  himself?  Surely  he  will  awake,  as 
one  out  of  sleep  !  surely  he  will  say,  with 
a  determined  indignation,  "  Ah  !  1  will  ease 
me  of  mine  adversaries,  and  avenge  me  of 
mine  enemies  !"  Isa.  i.  24.  Has  he  not 
shewed  us  evident  tokens  of  his  disjjleasure  ? 
is  he  not  filling  all  his  dispensations  with 
marks  of  anger  ?  And  what,  O  what  may 
be  the  end  of  these  hyginniiigs  !  how  dole- 
ful, how  destructive!  unless  sovereign  grace 
interpose  ;  bringing  us,  by  faith  in  the  Son 
of  God,  to  unfeigned  repentance  and  new- 
ness of  life.  Some  notion  we  may  form 
concerning  the  end  of  these  things,  by  un- 
folding the  second  point 

2.  The  judgments  of  God  denounced  on 
such  sins.  Where  such  iniquities  prevail, 
we  might  naturally  conclude,  that  the  di\  ine 
indignation  is  awakened,  and  the  divine 
vengeance  lingei  eth  not.  Is  there  a  God  ? 
does  he  behold  t!ie  children  of  men  ?  is  his 
nature  infiniiely  jun-e  and  holy  ?  Surely  then 
he  cannot,  he  will  not  suffer  the  most  out- 
rageous violations  of  his  sublime  perfec- 
tions to  pass  unpunished.  Thus  we  might 
argue  from  the  nature  of  God  ;  this  we 
might  conjecture  from  the  aspect  of  things. 
But  we  have  a  more  sure  word  of  projjhe- 
cy :  in  this  word,  "  the  wrath  of  God  is 
revealed  against  all  ungodliness  and  unright- 
eousness of  men,"  Rom.  i.  18.  And  see  ! 
in  what  flaming  colours,  by  what  frightful 
images  this  wrath  is  represented,  these  j  udg- 
nients  are  described  ! 

They  are  likened  to  a  lion  rending  his 
prey.  The  Lord  hath  been  '•  unto  Ephraim 
as  a  moth,  and  unto  the  house  of  Judah  as 
a  worm."  He-hath  dispeused  milder  cor- 
rections ;  aiHicting  them  in  measure,  and 
withliolding  inferior  comforts.  His  judg- 
ments were  like  a  moth  fretting  the  gar- 
ment, or  like  a  worm  corroding  the  wood. 
In  both  which  cases  the  consumption  creeps, 
as  it  were  ;  the  wasting  operates  silently, 
and  proceeds  slowly.  Thus  the  chastising 
Jehovah  acted,  giving  the  people  space  for 
recollection,  and  looking  for  repentance ; 
but  no  repentance  was  produced  ;  theycon- 
tuiued  irreclaimable,  adding  sin  to  sin- 
'Iben  says  the  Lord,  "  I  will  be  uiuo 
Ephraim  as  a  lion  ;"  which,  all  fierce  and 
ravenous,  rushes  upon  a  lonely  traveller.  I 
will  now  come  fortli,  as  an  incensed  and  ir- 
lesistible  adversary,  and  be  "as  a  roaring- 
lion  to  the  house  of  Judah.  I,  even  1,  who 
i  m  omniijoteut,  will  tear,  will  destroy  tliem 
\,ith  a  mighty  hand  ;  and  go  a^vay,   satiated 


with  slaughter  and  vengeance.  I  will  take 
away  both  prince  and  people;  I  will  take 
away  their  very  place  and  nation  ;  and  none 
shall  have  power  to  eff'ect,  or  courage  to 
attempt  a  rescue-"  Hos.  v.  12 — 14.  If 
God  do  thus  to  perverse  and  incorrigible 
Judah,  why  should  we  imagine  that  he  will 
deal  othei'wise  with  perverse  and  incorrigi- 
ble Enghmd  ? 

They  are  described  by  a  flood.  "  Now 
therefore  behold  the  Lord  bringeth  up  up- 
on them  the  waters  of  the  river,  strong  and 
maiiy,  even  the  king  of  Assyria  and  all  his 
glory ;  and  he  shall  come  up  over  all  his 
channels,  and  go  over  all  his  banks.  And 
he  shall  pass  through  Judah  ;  he  shall  over- 
flow and  go  over ;  he  shall  reach  even  to 
the  neck,  and  the  stretching  out  of  his  wings 
shall  fill  the  breadth  of  thy  land,  O  Im- 
manuel !"  Isa.  viii-  7,  8.  The  king  of  As- 
syria and  his  army,  determined  to  invade 
Judah,  are  signitied  by  the  waters  of  the 
river.  These  the  Lord  bringeth  up  ;  over- 
ruling the  purposes  of  ambitious  princes, 
and  making  even  their  wicked  designs  sub- 
servient to  his  holy  will.  They  are,  like 
the  watei"s  of  an  immense  flood,  strong  and 
many ;  tlieir  multitude  innumerable,  and 
their  force  unconquerable.  For  they  shall 
come  with  all  their  glory ;  with  their  choic- 
est troops,  their  ablest  commanders,  and 
their  whole  warlike  artillery.  "  He  shall 
come  up  over  all  his  channels,  and  go  over 
all  his  banks  ;"  from  all  parts  of  his  vast 
dominions,  his  troops  shall  be  assembled ; 
each  province  shall  be  drained  of  its  bravest 
inhabitants ;  and  all  unite  to  render  this 
expedition  one  of  the  most  formidable  that 
ever  was  undertaken.  "  He  shall  pass 
through  Judah  ;"  not  only  make  inroads 
upon  the  frontiers,  but  push  his  way  through 
the  coimtry,  and  penetrate  the  ver)'  heart  of 
the  kingdom.  He  shall  overflow ;  spread 
terror  and  desolation  on  every  side,  and  in 
every  quarter.  He  shall  go  over  villages, 
towns,  citi'es,  tribes,  and  bear  down  all  be- 
fore him.  He  sliall  reach  even  to  the  neck  ; 
his  ravages  shall  extend  even  to  the  royal 
city,  to  the  very  gates  of  the  metropolis  ; 
threatening  destruction  to  the  palace  of  tiie 
king,  and  tlie  walls  of  the  temple.  The 
stretching  out  of  his  wings,  the  several  de- 
tachments and  j)arties  of  his  victorious  ar- 
my, shall  rill  the  breadth  of  the  land  witii 
havoc,  slaughter,  and  ruin ;  even  of  thy 
land,  O  luiinanuel.  Their  relation  to  thee 
shall  procure  no  favour,  shall  afford  no  pro- 
tection. They  have  dishonoured  that  good- 
ly name  when-with  they  were  called  :  theie- 
fore  that  goodly  name  shall  no  longer  stiind 
in  the  bre.icii,  i.iit  pour  itself  with  the  tor- 
rent, and  render  it  irresistible.  Such  an 
inundation  ol'juiigments  so  terrible,  so  lie- 
structive,  hiive  nut  we  deserved,  ujay  not 
we  exptci. : 


THE  TIME  OF  DANGER. 


651 


These  judgments  are  compared  to  fire, 
and  to  the  fiercest  of  fires,  th;it  which  ^lows 
in  a  furnace.  "  The  house  of  Israel  is  to  me 
become  dross ;  ail  they  arc  brass,  and  tin, 
and  iron  and  lead,  in  the  midst  of  the  fur- 
nace ;  they  are  even  the  dross  of  silver. 
Theiefore  thus  saith  the  Ijord  God,  because 
ye  are  all  become  dross,  behold,  therefore,  I 
will  gather  you  into  the  midst  of  Jerusalem. 
As  they  gather  brass,  and  iron,  and  tin,  and 
lead,  into  the  midst  of  the  furnace,  to  blow 
the  fire  upon  it,  to  melt  it ;  so  will  I  gather 
you.  in  mine  anger  and  in  my  fury  ;  and  T 
will  leave  you  there,  and  melt  you.  Yea,  I 
will  gather  you,  and  blow  upon  you  in  the 
fire  of  my  wrath,  and  yc  shall  be  melted  in 
the  midst  thereof."  Ezek.  xxii.  18 — 2!. 
Astonishing  words  !  And  they  are  doubled  ! 
they  are  redoubled  !  in  order  to  alarm  the 
insensible  siimers  :  as  the  sword,  by  being 
brandished  in  many  a  dreadful  circle  over 
the  criminal's  head,  strikes  terror  into  his 
apprehensions,  before  it  does  the  work  of 
vengeance  on  his  heart.  This  generation 
is  become  brass,  imjjudent  in  their  wicked- 
ness. They  have  a  whore's  forehead  ;  they 
cannot  blush  at  their  iniquities  ;  but  glory 
in  their  shame.  They  are  tin,  a  degenerate 
race,  children  that  are  corrupters.  They 
have  forsaken  the  good  old  way,  and  swerv- 
ed from  the  example  of  their  fathers.  With 
regard  to  hardness  of  heart,  they  are  as  iron  ; 
impenitent  amidst  all  their  guilt  ;  obstinate- 
ly tenacious  of  their  vices ;  and  not  to  be 
wrought  ujjon  by  any  addi  esses,  not  to  be 
reclaimed  by  any  expedients.  In  another 
respect,  they  are  as  lead  j  stupid  and  sottish, 
pliable  to  evil,  but  for  any  good  purpose 
unmeet,  to  every  good  work  reprobate.  Be- 
cause they  are  so  exceedingly  sinful,  they 
shall  be  overtaken  by  God's  anger,  and  sur- 
rounded by  his  fury  ;  as  metals  cast  into 
the  midst  of  a  furnace  are  suirounded  with 
the  raging  heat.  The  flame  of  this  wrath 
shall  be  blown,  as  with  a  vehement  wind,  to 
its  utmost  height.  In  this  furnace  they 
shall  be  left,  to  this  wrath  they  shall  be 
abandoned  ;  till,  by  a  complication  of  afflic- 
tions, resembling  the  complication  of  their 
vices,  they  are  overcome,  subdued,  and  even 
melted  ;  so  melted,  as  to  be  either  purged 
from  the  dross  of  their  iniquities,  or  else 
blended  together  in  one  promiscuous  ruin. 

These  judgments  are  describetl  by  the 
terrible  representation  of  an  end  :  An  end 
of  affluence  and  prosperity,  of  which  we 
have  gloried  ;  an  end  of  power  and  strength, 
in  which  we  have  trusted  ;  an  end  of  all 
national  blessings,  which  we  have  not  im- 
jtroved  to  God's  honour,  but  turned  ii.to 
licentiousness.  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God, 
An  end,  the  end  is  coine  upon  the  four  cor- 
ners of  the  land.  The  sword  is  without, 
and  the  pestilence  and  the  famine  within  : 
he  that  is   in   the  field,    sludl    die  with   the 


sword  ;  and  he  that  is  in  the  city,  pesti- 
lence and  famine  shall  devour  him."  Ezek. 
vii.  "2,  15.  For  this  we  have  been  ri[)ening, 
by  an  unintcrmitted  course  of  ungodliness 
and  iniquity.  And  v/hat  can  be  expected 
by  ati  impenitent  people,  hating  to  be  re- 
formed ?  What,  but  that  judgments,  which 
have  long  been  suspended,  should  at  last  be 
inflicted  ?  "  An  end  is  come  :  it  is  come 
upon  the  land."  It  is  a  national  visitation, 
not  confined  to  a  part,  but  extending  to  the 
whole  kingdom.  "  Upon  the  four  corners 
of  the  land  :"  No  place  shall  be  exempt  ; 
nothing  secure  ;  neither  that  which  seems 
to  1,'e  most  secret,  nor  that  which  lies  most 
remote.  Ttse  veiigeancc  is  universal  and 
inevitable.  The  executioners  of  this  ven- 
geance take  their  stand,  within  and  without, 
at  home  and  abroad ;  so  that  to  fly  from 
one,  is  only  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  an- 
other. "  He  that  is  in  the  field  shall  find 
no  way  to  escape,  but  shall  die  with  the 
sword.  He  that  is  in  the  city  shall  obtain 
no  protection,  but  famine  and  jiestilence 
shall  devour  him"  Every  city  shall  be  a 
charnel-house,  and  every  field  a  field  of 
blood.  Iti  city  and  country  sin  has  prodi- 
giously abounded  ;  therefore,  in  city  and 
country,  desolation  shall  be  made,  death 
shall  be  midtiplied,  miseries  shall  abound. 

These  are  some  of  the  images  by  \^•hich 
the  jiulgments  and  the  wrath  of  God  are 
represented  in  the  Scriptures.  But  when 
all  linages  are  used,  when  fancy  itself  is  ex- 
hausted, we  may  truly  cry  out  with  the 
Psalmist,  "  Who  knovveth  tiie  power  of 
thine  anger?"  Psalm  xc.  II.  If  God  whet 
his  glittering  sword,  and  his  hand  take  hold 
on  judgment,  what  can  withstand  it,  or  who 
can  sustain  it  ?  If  his  wrath  be  kindled,  ye^ 
but  a  little,  "it  shall  consume  the  e.irth 
with  her  increase;  it  shall  set  on  fire  the 
foundation  of  the  moimtains,  and  burn  to 
the  lowest  hell."  Dent,  xxxii.  22. 

"  When  the  lion  has  roared,"  says  the;  pro- 
phet, "who  will  not  fcaV?"  Wlie:i  the 
most  high  God  hath  spoken,  spoken  such 
terrible  things  in  righteousness,  who  will 
not  lay  them  to  heait?  O  how  deep  is 
that  sleep,  how  deadly  is  that  let'iargy, 
which  the  voice  of  him  who  shakes  the 
heavens  does  neither  alarm  nor  awe  ! 

Lest  you  should  begin  to  say  within 
yourselves,  'i'hese  threatenings  are  applica- 
ble only  to  the  Jews,  I  ])roceed  to  show, 

3.  The  certain  execution  of  these,  or 
some  such  judgments  on  us,  uidess  we  fly 
to  the  appointed  refuge. 

God  is  an  infinite  speaker.  In  his  word, 
he  addresses  liimself  to  all  generati.nis  of 
men,  and  to  every  individual  of  the  human 
kind,  where  his  holy  revelation  is  made.  It 
is  therefore  a  certain  ride,  that  whi  ii  any 
peopie,  eidightened  by  the  glorious  ;,i)spel, 
become  like  Jerusalem  universally  and  hi- 


652 


THE  TIME  OF  DANGER. 


comgibly  corrupt,  tbey  do  in  Jerusalem's 
doom  read  their  own. 

God  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
for  ever.  He  remembereth  his  threateniiigs 
as  well  as  his  promises,  to  a  thousand  gen- 
erations. Whatsoever  of  either  kind  hap- 
pened to  our  forefathers,  "  happened  to  them 
as  ensamples  to  us.  And  whatsoever  was 
written  aforetime,  was  written  for  our  learn- 
ing." Observe,  it  was  written,  not  for  our 
amusement,  but  "  for  our  learning  and  ad- 
monition," 1  Cor.  X.  11  ;  that  we  may,  as 
in  a  mirror,  see  our  own  picture  ;  and,  as 
from  an  orade,  learn  our  own  destiny. 

Is  it  not  in  a  manner  necessary,  for  the 
manifestation  of  God's  inflexit)le  justice  and 
his  unalteral)le  hatred  of  sin,  that  judgments 
snould  take  then-  course,  when  iniquity  rears 
its  head,  and  refuses  to  be  coiifrolled  ?  At 
such  a  juncture,  does  not  every  one  of  the 
divine  attributes  cry  aloud,  "  O  Lord  God, 
to  whom  vengeunce  beioiigeth  ;  tliou  God, 
to  whom  vengeance  belongeth,  shew  thy- 
self." And  how  can  the  justice  of  God, 
with  regard  to  a  wicked  nation,  be  shewn, 
but  by  executing  his  vengeance  upon  them 
in  temporal  calamities  ? 

Consider,  sirs,  the  very  essence  of  nations 
and  political  communities  is  temporal,  pure- 
ly temporal.  They  have  no  duration,  no 
existence,  but  in  this  world.  Hereafter 
sinners  will  be  judged  and  punished  sii'i'gly, 
and  in  a  personal  capacity  only.  How  tlien 
shall  He,  who  is  i-uler  among  the  nations, 
maintain  the  dignity  of  his  government  over 
the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  but  by  inflicting 
national  punishments  for  national  provoca- 
tions ;  and  for  linal  impenitence,  total  des- 
truction? 

iJesides,  has  not  the  Lord  always  acted 
in  this  manner?  Go  back  to  the  generations 
of  old.  Contemplate  Sodom  and  Gomor- 
rah, and  the  cities  about  them  ;  well  water- 
ed every  where,  even  as  the  garden  of  the 
Lord.  Yet  "  this  fruitful  land  is  made  bar- 
ren, those  populous  cities  are  turned  into 
Hshes,  for  the  wickedness  of  them  that  dwelt 
therein,"  Psal.  cvii.  34  ;  for  their  pride  and 
idleness,  for  their  voluptuous  and  wanton 
indulgences.  "  For  which  thing's  sake,  the 
wrath  of  God"  not  only  has  come  in  former 
ages  and  in  distant  nations,  but  in  every  age 
cometh,  andin  every  nation  will  come,  "upon 
the  children  of  disobedience."  Col.  iii.  6. 

Pass  over  to  Babylon,  the  grandest  city 
that  the  sun  ever  beheld  ;  which  set  cala- 
mity at  defiance,  saying  in  her  heart,  "  I 
shall  be  a  lady  for  ever,"  Isa.  xlvii.  7  ;  how 
is  she  fallen,  "  swept  with  the  besom  of 
destruction  !"  Isa  xiv.  23.  Not  so  much  as 
a  trace  or  footstep  of  her  ancient  glory  left! 
And  shall  we  be  safe,  when  those  very  ini- 
quities prevail  among  us,  which  razed  the 
ibundations  of  the  Babylouian  metropolis, 


and  overthrew  the  magnificenee  of  the  Baby- 
lonian monarchy  ? 

Take  a  view  of  Constantinople,  once  the 
most  flourishing  Christian  city  in  the  world ; 
where  the  first  Christian  emperor  filled  the 
throne,  and  Chrysostom,  that  great  Chris- 
tian orator,  the  pulpit.  Then  it  was  glori- 
ously enlightened  with  the  knowledge  of  Je- 
sus Christ.  Grace  and  truth  dwelt  in  it, 
and  the  beauties  of  holiness  adorned  it.  But 
now  the  candlestick  is  removed.  It  is  now 
given  up  to  infidelity  and  barbarity  ;  is  now 
full  of  darkness  and  cruel  habitations. 

Come  hither,  then,  ye  careless  ones,  and 
see  what  desolations  sin  has  made  in  the 
earth.  On  account  of  sin,  Sodopi  was  con- 
sumed as  in  a  moment ;  Babylon  is  totally 
destroyed;*  Constantinople  has  lost  her 
glory.  And  will  the  Lord,  the  Lord  God, 
who  is  unchangeably  just  and  holy  ;  will  he 
spare  that  in  one  people  which  he  has  so 
severely  corrected  in  another?  "He  that 
chastiseth  the  Heathen,  shall  not  he  punish" 
us,  when  we  do  according  to  all  their  abo- 
minations ? 

Have  we  a  license  to  sin  with  impunity  ? 
are  our  sins  less  heinous  than  those  of  other 
people  ?  Quite  the  reverse.  Considering 
the  many  blessings  which  we  enjoy  as  a  na- 
tion ;  tiie  many  deliverances  we  have  en- 
joyed as  a  protestant  nation  ;  the  number- 
less advantages  for  religious  knowledge  and 
religious  practice,  which  we  both  have  en- 
joyed, and  do  enjoy  above  all  the  nations  on 
earth  ;  cojisidering  these  circumstances,  our 
wickedness  is  highly  aggravated ;  it  is  be- 
come exceeding  sinful  ;  it  "  overpasses  the 
deeds"  ( Jer.  v.  28,)  of  the  most  abandoned 
Heathens.  What  then  can  prevent  our  ruin  ? 

Will  you  reply,  "  We  fast  and  humble 
ourselves  before  the  Lord  !"  I  ask.  Do 
we  fast  from  sin  ?  are  our  fast-days  the  be- 
ginning of  a  gospel  reformation  ?  When  we 
abstain  from  our  daily  bread,  do  we  turn 
by  faith  to  Jesus  Christ,  that,  eating  his 
flesh  and  drinking  his  blood,  we  may  live 
through  him  ?"  John  vi.  57  ;  live  in  holi- 
ness  here,  and  live  in  glory  hereafter,  by 
applying  his  immaculate  righteousness  to 
our  souls.  If  this  is  the  case,  we  may  en- 
tertain reviving  hopes.  The  Scripture  speaks 
good  words,  and  comfortable  words,  to  such 
people  ;  be  their  condition  ever  so  vile,  or 


*  Will  any,  raised  in  their  own  conceit  above  the 
vulfiar  level,  neglect  these  admonitions  with  a  smile 
of  disdain  ?  Because  they  can  assign  tlie  second 
causes  of  some  such  evils  as  have  been  described,  will 
they  therefore  q^uiet  their  spirits,  amidst  the  alarm- 
ing prospect  ot  judgments  from  heaven?  Is  not 
what  we  term  the  course  of  nature,  the  incessant  ad- 
ministration of  Providence  ?  The  poverty  and  igno- 
miny of  the  lazy  vagabond ;  the  diseases  of  the  de- 
bauchee, and  the  distresses  of  the  spendthrift — are 
these  less  manifest  signs  of  divine  displeasure,  be- 
cause they  are  the  immediate  effects  of  an  evil  con- 
duct ?  are  they  not  as  certainly  the  judicial,  thepenal, 
as  they  are  the  natural  consequences  of  vice  ? 


THE  TIME  OF  DANGER. 


663 


iheir  guilt  ever  so  great.  But,  alas  '  are 
we  not  just  the  same  persons  the  day  after 
our  fast  as  we  were  before  ?  as  vain  in  our 
conversation  and  as  forgetful  of  God  ?  as 
fond  of  folly,  and  as  negligent  of  divine 
grace ;  as  mad  upon  our  idols  of  eumal  gra- 
tification, and  worldly  gain  ?  If  so,  our 
fasts  are  not  an  acceptable,  no,  nor  a  rea- 
sonable service  ;  but  a  mere  mockery  of  the 
omniscient  Majesty.  May  he  not  justly 
use  that  upbraiding  expostulation,  "  \\'ill 
ye  steal,  anil  coniniit  adultery,  and  swear 
falsely,  and  walk  after  other  gods,"  serving 
not  the  Lord  Jehovah,  but  diverse  lusts  and 
pleasures  ;  and  then,  with  hypocritical  de- 
votion, "  stand  before  me  in  this  house 
which  is  called  by  my  name?"  Jer.  vii.  9, 
10. 

Perhaps  youare  ready  toallege,  "  Ouralms 
will  deliver  us."  The  son  of  Siracli  exhorts 
us  to  "shut  up  ahus  in  our  storehouses  ;"  and 
assures  us,  that  "  they  shall  fight  for  us 
against  our  enemies,  better  than  a  mighty 
shield  and  strong  spear,"  Eccl'us  xxix.  12, 
13.  And  when  wus  there  a  greater  flow  of 
beneficence  observable  in  our  own,  or  in 
any  land  ?  AVhat  sums  have  been  given  to 
the  poor  during  this  severe  season  of  cold 
and  scarcity  !  what  hospitals  of  various 
sorts,  and  other  charitable  foundations,  have 
been  set  on  foot,  and  are  supported  through 
the  kingdom  !  Let  us  beware,  brethren, 
lest  those  very  things,  which  we  look  upon 
as  our  recommendation,  should  prove  an 
offence.  If  our  alms  proceed  not  from 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  an  unfeigned 
zeal  for  the  glory  of  God  ;  if  they  are  not 
accompanied  with  a  spirit  of  lo\e  to  his 
name,  and  with  a  course  of  obedience  to 
his  commands  ;  hear  what  the  Lord  him- 
self says  concerning  such  works  :  see  vvhat 
a  figure  they  make  in  his  sight  ;  and  then 
judge,  whether  they  are  likely  to  be  a  se- 
curity to  our  land.  "  I  hate,  I  des])ise 
your  feast-days,  and  I  will  not  smell  in  your 
solemn  assemblies.  Though  ye  offer  me 
burnt-ofTerings,  and  your  meat- offerings,  I 
will  not  accept  them  ;  neither  will  I  regard 
the  peace-offerings  of  your  fat  beasts. 
Take  thou  away  from  me  the  noise  of  thy 
songs ;  for  I  will  not  hear  the  melody  of 
thy  viols."  Hymns  of  praise,  you  see,  are 
no  other  than  a  noise  in  the  Lord's  ear  ; 
the  most  costly  services  of  religion  ai'e  no 
better  thaii  a  smoke  in  his  nostrils  ;  unless 
judgment,  and  the  love  of  Hod,  run  down 
as  a  river ;  unless  righteousness,  and  the 
faith  of  Christ,  abound  as  a  mighty  stream. 
Amos.  V.  21—24. 

Do  you  still  conceit  yourselves,  that,  be- 
cause there  are  many  righteous  persons  re- 
maining, they  will  stand  in  the  gap  ;  they 
will  tuin  away  the  anger  of  the  Lord,  and 
be  as  the  chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horse- 
men of  Israel  to  our  endangered  state  ?  Hear 


what  a  charge  the  supreire  Jehovah  gave 
to  his  prophet,  when  the  provocations  of 
Israel  were  risen  to  a  very  high  pitch  : 
"  Pray  not  thou  for  this  peojjle,  neither  lift 
up  cry  nor  prayer  lor  them,  neither  make 
intercession  to  me ;  for  I  will  not  hear 
thee."  Jer.  vii.  Ifi.  Amazing  and  awful 
])rohibition  !  Yet  it  is  repeated  again  and 
again.  Jer.  xi.  14,  and  xiv.  11.  God's 
professing  people  may,  by  their  excessive 
wickedness,  become  so  insufferably  loath- 
some, that  were  the  greatest  saints  to  make 
suj)plicati()n  in  their  behalf,  they  should  not 
prevail.  Though  Noah,  Daniel,  and  Job, 
men  mighty  in  prayer,  and  zsalous  for  the 
welfare  of  their  neighbours  ;  though  these 
three  men  (who  had  each,  by  his  single  in- 
tercession, procured  blessings  from  heaven) 
were  uniting  their  petitions  in  the  midst  of 
this  profligate  generation  ;  "  as  I  live,  saith 
the  Lord  God,  they  shall  deliver  neither 
sons  nor  daughters  ;  they  only  shall  be  de- 
livered, but  the  land  shall  be  desolate." 
Ezek.  xiv.  IG. 

The  land  shall  be  desolate.  Doleful 
sound  !  dismal  decree  !  And  has  it  not  long 
ago  been  carried  into  execution  ?  was  not 
Jerusalem  jjloughed  as  a  field,  and  trodden 
down  by  the  Gentiles  ?  are  not  the  inhabi- 
tants rooted  out  of  their  dwellings,  and 
scattered  to  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  ?  while 
their  coimtry  is  given  uj)  (or  a  prey  and  for 
a  possession  to  strangers,  to  infidels,  to 
Turks. 

Perhaps  you  will  say,  "  The  Jews  cru- 
cified the  Lord  of  glory,  and  rejected  his 
gosjiel  ;  therefore  wrath  came  upon  them 
to  the  uttermost."  And  are  we  innocent 
in  this  respect?  are  not  we  verily,  are  not 
we  greatly  guilty  concerning  this  thing?  Is 
Christ  received  into  the  hearts  of  men,  with 
deep  adoration  of  his  person,  as  Immanuel, 
God  with  us  '■'  do  they  gloiy  and  delight 
themselves  in  his  complete  redemption,  as 
finished  by  the  great  God  and  our  ^5aviour  ? 
do  they  confide  in  him  alone  for  theii  iu>ti- 
fication,  as  an  infinite  fSurety,  and  as  Je- 
hovah our  righteousness  ?  do  they  depend  on 
him  alone  for  their  sanctification,  as  .lesus, 
who  saves  his  people  from  their  sins,  and 
sanctities  them  through  his  blood?  do  they 
count  all  things  but  dung,  for  the  excellency 
of  Christ,  and  his  incomprehensible  merit? 
Alas  !  is  not  his  gospel,  through  the  light 
of  the  world,  disregarded  and  despised  ? 
is  not  his  name,  thoui.',h  a  name  above  every 
name,  derided  and  bl<nsi)lien)ed  ?  are  not  the 
intiuences  of  his  eternal  Spirit,  though  the 
veiy  life  of  our  soul.'.,  exjjloded  and  ridicul- 
ed? They  who  would  exalt  the  Saviour, 
would  make  every  sheaf  bow  down  to  the 
Redeemer's,  representing  him  as  the  Alpha 
and  Omega,  the  beginning  and  tlie  ending 
in  the  salvation  of  sinners — those  preachers, 
those  writers,  those  believers,  are  treated  as 


654 


THE  T:?.ir.  OF  DANGEI?. 


i 


'•  the  foolish  people  that  dwell  in  Siclum." 
Ecol'iis  1.  26. 

What  the  Jews  did  through  ignorance, 
we,  who  call  ourselves  Christians,  English- 
men, Protestants;  we  do  knowingly,  wil- 
fully, and  of  malicious  wickedness.  And 
if  we  thus  trample  upon  the  blood  which 
alone  c?.n  screen  us;  if  we  thus  crucify 
afresh  that  Jesus  who  is  our  only  hope  ; 
what  can  we  look  for,  but  vengeance  and 
fiery  indignation?  If  we  ourselves,  with  our 
own  hands,  demolish  the  only  barrier,  what 
can  ensue  but  an  inundation  of  w-rath,  tri- 
bulation, and  anguish? 

Consider  these  things,  brethren.  The 
Lord  enable  you  to  discern  the  signs  of -the 
times  I  Then  you  will  acknowledge,  that 
we  have  reason  to  be  alarmed,  to  tremble, 
to  be  horribly  afraid.  Are  not  tliese  ini- 
quities the  Achans,  that  will  assm-cdly  l)nng 
distress  and  trouble,  if  not  destruction,  upon 
our  country?  are  not  these  iniquities  the 
Jonahs,  that  will  awaken  the  divine  dis- 
pleasure, and  deliver  up  our  vessel  to  the 
tempest,  if  not  to  shipwreck  ? 

Is  any  one  disposed  to  say  within  .him- 
self, "  Though  others  may  be  gnilty  of  these 
flagrant  iniquities,  yet  am  not  I  ?"  Remem- 
ber, mv  friend,  the  prophet  Isaiah  :  He  was, 
at  least,  as  free  from  these  flagrant  iniq.ni- 
ties  as  yoiu'self ;  yet  he  laments,  and  with 
painful  apprehensions,  the  guilt  of  his 
countrymen,  as  well  as  his  o\\^l.  Isaiah  vi. 
5.  Remember  King  Josiah :  Though  a 
holy  mare  and  a  just,  he  rent  his  clothes, 
and  trembled  at  God's  word  denouncing  ven- 
geance against  an  irreligious  people.  2 
Kings  xxii.  12,  1-3. 

Consider  also,  whether  you  have  not 
been  an  accessory,  even  \vhere  you  was  not 
the  principal.  Though  you  have  not  joined 
with  the  more  profligate  sinners,  nor  sat  in 
the  seat  of  tlie  scornful ;  yet  have  you  not 
connived  at  their  impiety  ?  do  their  affronts 
ofl^ered  to  the  King  of  heaven  rouse  you  into 
a  becoming  zeal  to  vindicate  his  injured 
honour?  or,  "because  iniquity  has  abound- 
ed, is  not  your  love,  and  the  love  of  many, 
waxed  cold?"  Matt.  xxiv.  12.  Have  not 
the  disciples,  even  the  disciples  of  Jesus, 
been  cowards  and  traitors  ;  while  others 
have  been  professed  enemies  and  rebels  ? 

Besides,  have  not  you,  have  not  I,  have 
not  all  contributed,  in  many,  many  instan- 
ces, to  swell  the  score  of  national  provoca- 
tions ?  Is  not  every  sin  a  disobedience  of 
God's  most  holy  command  ?  is  not  every 
sin  a  defiance  of  his  xmcontrollable  author- 
ity? is  not  every  sin  an  imitation  of  the 
devil  ?  does  it  not  create  a  kind  of  hell  in 
the  heart?  must  it  not  therefore  be  incon- 
ceivably odious  to  the  holy,  holy,  holy  Loid 
God  of  Sabaoth  ?  If  so,  how  guilty  are 
the  very  best  among  us?  Is  not  this  accurs- 
td  thing  found  in  all  out  tents  ?  Josh. 


18.  Has  not  every  one  added  to  the  loarl. 
that  dreadful  load,  which  is  likely  to  si)dc 
the  nation  in  ruin  ?  Should  not  every  one, 
therefxjre,  smite  upon  his  breast,  and  say 
with  the  penitent,  "  ¥/hat  have  I  done  I" 
and  cry  with  the  publican,  "  God  be  merci- 
ful to  me  a  siimer  !" 

Will  you  still  flatter  yourself,  "  All  these 
judgments  may  be  delayed  ;  they  may  not 
come  in  my  time?"  I  answer,  if  there  be 
any  truth  in  God's  word  ;  if  any  conjecture 
is  to  be  made  from  the  appearance  of 
things  ;  these  judgments  are  near  ;  they  are 
at  the  door.  They  are  like  the  axe  in  the 
executioners  hand,  which  has  been  poised, 
has  received  its  last  elevation,  and  is  now 
falling  on  the  criminal's  neck.  Yet  if  these 
should  be  withheld  for  a  season,  will  not 
sickness  come  upon  you  ?  are  not  many 
disasters  lying  in  ambush  to  seize  you  ?  is 
jiot  death  sharpening  his  arrow  ;  perhaps 
fitting  it  to  the  string ;  or  even  aiming  at 
your  life  ?  Is  not  the  day,  the  dreadful  day 
apjiroaching,  when  the  shout  of  the  arch- 
angel Mild  the  tr^imp  of  God  will  be  heard  , 
when  the  dead  shall  arise,  and  heaven  and 
earth  flee  away  ?  will  not  the  Lord,  the 
Lord  God  omnipotent  quickly  come,  "with 
ten  thousands  of  his  saints,  to  execute  judg- 
ment upon  all,  and  to  convince  all  that  are 
ungodly  of  all  their  ungodly  deeds  which 
they  have  ungodlily  committed  ;  and  of  all 
their  hard  speeches,  which  ungodly  sinners 
have  spoken  against  him?"  Jude  14,  1.3. 

Take  then,  my  dear  heai'ers,  take  the  ad- 
vice of  the  greatest  of  preachers,  and  the 
wisest  of  men,  "  The  prudent  foreseeth  the 
evil,  and  hideth  himself."  Prov.  xxii.  3. 
Behold  !  the  rains  are  descending,  and  the 
flood  is  coming;  hasten,  like  Noah,  hasten 
to  your  ark.  See !  the  skies  are  kindling 
all  around,  and  the  shafts  of  vengeance  are 
ready  to  fly.  oNIake  haste,  oh,  make  haste 
and  delay  not  the  time,  to  get  into  a  hiding- 
place.  Let  me  sound  in  your  ears  the  an- 
gel's admonition  ;  and  may  the  Lord  of  an- 
gels, may  the  Friend  of  sinners,  convey  it 
to  your  hearts !  "  Escape  for  your  lives, 
lest  ye  be  consumed  ;"  lest  the  judgments 
of  God,  and  the  wrath  of  God,  more  to  be 
feared  than  a  deluge  of  waters,  more  to  be 
feared  than  a  torrent  of  flames,  suri'ound 
you  suddenly,  seize  you  unavoidably,  and 
overwhelm  you  in  ruin,  temporal  and  eter- 
nal. 

O  that  I  might  prevail !  O  that  God 
would  make  you  sensible  of  your  peril !  O 
that  man,  woman,  and  child  would  ask, 
"  How  shall  I  fly  from  the  wrath  to  come  ? 
where  shall  I  be  safe  in  the  day  of  visita- 
tion ?.  Show  me  the  ai  k  !  show  me  the  re- 
fuge I"  I  should  then,  with  great  satisfac- 
tion, proceed  to  answer  this  inquiry ;  and 
point  out  Christ  to  your  souls,  as  the  only 
hiding-place,  as  the  sure  hiding-place,  where 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 


6J.5 


you  may  certainly  find  safety.  But  this 
iniist  be  the  I)iisiiiess,  the  phasing  business, 
uF  my  next  discourse. 

Let  me  beseech  you,  in  the  mean  time, 
to  hiy  these  ahirnsing  trutlis  to  heart ;  let 
them  impress  your  consciences  ;  let  them 
penetrate  your  souls.  And  O  thou  graci- 
ous, thou  almighty  Lord  God,  do  thou 
command  them  to  sink-  deep  into  all  our 
minds  ;  that  we  may,  with  Ezra  thy  priest. 


sit  down  ashamed  and  astonished  (Ezra  ix. 
3. )  under  a  sense  of  oiu-  manifold  iniquities  : 
That  we  may,  with  thy  servant  Job,  "  ab- 
hor ourselves,  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes," 
■Tob  xlii.  6  :  That  we  may,  in  the  words, 
and  with  the  compunction  of  thy  pro])hel, 
every  one  cry  out,  "  Wo  is  me,  for  I  am 
undone ;  because  I  am  a  man  of  nncleaa 
lij)s,  and  I  dwell  in  the  midst  of  a  people 
of  unclean  lips."   Isa.  vi.  5. 


SER]v,ION    VI. 


THE  ]\IEANS   OF  SAFETY 


Through  faitli  he  kept  the  passover,  anti  the  sprinkling  of  blood,  lest  he  that  destroyed  the 
first-born  should  touch  them." 


We  have  been  considering  the  danger  of 
our  nation,  occasioned  by  the  sin  of  its  in- 
habitants ;  by  the  judgments  of  God  de- 
nounced iigainst  such  sinners  ;  by  the  cer- 
tain execution  of  his  righteous  threatenings, 
unless  we  Hy  to  the  appointed  refuge. 
When  such  is  the  state  of  a  nation,  it  is 
high  time  for  the  watchmen  on  her  walls  to 
lift  up  their  voice  ;  not  indeed  to  spread  vain 
terrors,  but  to  give  notice  of  the  approach- 
ing evil  ;  to  warn  the  unwary  ;  to  call  in 
the  stragglers ;  and  urge  every  one  to  re- 
tire into  a  place  of  safety. 

Having,  in  the  preceding  discourse,  at- 
tempted to  discharge  this  office,  I  shall 
now,  brethren,  as  in  the  presence  of  the 
all- seeing  God,  ask,  Have  we  been  atten- 
tive to  these  things  ?  are  we  alarmed  with 
a  sense  of  our  guilt  and  our  peril  ?  have  we, 
with  the  prophet  Isaiah,  lamented  our  own, 
and  the  sins  of  our  people  ?  If  so,  we  shall 
highly  prize,  we  shall  ardently  desire,  the 
same  consolation,  and  the  same  relief, 
which  the  God  of  infinitely  free  goodness 
vouchsafed  to  his  servant :  "  Then  tlew 
one  of  the  sera])hims  unto  me,  having  a 
live  coal  in  his  hand,  which  he  had  taken 
from  off  the  altar,  and  he  laid  it  upon  my 
mouth,"  Isa.  vi.  7  ;  an  action  which  repre- 
sents the  very  thing  signified  in  the  text 
by  the  sprinkling  of  blood. 

The  altar  typified  Christ ;  who  is  both 
the  sacrifice  that  makes  the  atonement,  and 
the  altar  that  sanctifies  the  gift.  Tlie  live 
coal  seems  to  betoken  the  word  of  grace, 
and  the  word  of  life  ;  which  brings  the  glad 
tidings  of  the  gospel,  and  testifies  of  the 
bleeding  Jesus.  Laying  this  upon  the 
mouth,  very  significantly  denotes  the  appli- 
cation of  Christ  and  his  great  atonement. 
When  this  is  done  under  the  influence  of 
the  Spirit,  and  by  means  of  faith,  then 
"  iniquity  is  taken  away,  and  sin  purged;" 
taken  away  from   the  sight  of  God,  and 


purged  from  the  sinner's  conscience.  Guilt 
is  abolished  ;  fear  ceases.  But  this  leads 
us  to  our  second  particular, 

II.  The  method  of  security  from  danger, 
effected  by  "  keeping  the  passover,  and 
sprinkling  the  blood." 

Moses  was  apprized  of  a  dreadful  ven- 
geance to  be  indicted  on  Egypt ;  the  most 
dreadful  that  ever  was  known  since  the  be- 
ginning of  their  nation  ;  so  dreadful,  that 
it  would  make  every  ear  tingle,  and  every 
heart  bleed.  The  destro}ang  angel  was  to 
pass  through  all  the  territories  of  Pharaoh, 
and  smite  every  first-born  both  of  man  and 
beast ;  so  that,  before  the  morning,  there 
should  be  hca])s  of  slain  in  the  cities,  the 
villages,  the  fields ;  not  a  house  exempt, 
not  a  family  spared,  not  a  herd  nor  a  fiock 
free  from  the  fatal  calamity. 

Moses  feared  the  blow.  He  feared,  as 
the  text  intimates,  the  least  touch  of  the 
divine  executioner's  sword  ;  knowing  that 
it  would  crush  him  and  his  people,  as  a 
moth  is  crushed  by  the  falling  millstone. 
He  is  therefore  greatly  solicitous  to  pro- 
vide for  their  welfare.  But  what  expedient 
shall  he  use  ?  Shall  he  give  them  orders  to 
close  their  windows,  and  bar  their  doors  ;  to 
erect  fortifications,  and  stand  upon  their 
defence  ?  Alas  !  before  an  invisible  hand, 
armed  with  the  vengeance  of  Heaven,  all 
such  precautions  would  have  been  as  a 
spark  before  the  whirlwind.  Shall  he  as- 
semble the  warriors,  or  detach  parties  of 
soldiers  to  patrole  the  streets  and  guard  the 
houses  ?  Vanity  of  vanities  !  the  sword  of 
the  avenging  angel  would  pierce  through 
legions  and  legions  of  such  guards,  as  light- 
ning penetrates  the  yielding  air.  Shall  the 
whole  congregation  bend  their  knees,  with 
solemn  confession  of  their  sins,  and  sincere 
resolutions  of  future  amendment?  This, 
though  absolutely  necessary  to  be  done,  was 
extremely  improper  to   be  relied  on.     It 


f!:.5 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY 


would  have  been  relying  on  a  broken  reed, 
and  despising  the  ordinance  of  the  Holy 
One. 

The  Lord  himself  appoints  a  method  of 
preservation.  Moses  is  directed  to  slay  a 
lanib.  Each  family  in  Israel  is  to  do  the 
same.  Having  received  the  blood  into  a 
basin,  they  are  to  sprinkle  it,  not  on  the 
threshold,  but  on  the  lintel  and  side-posts 
of  their  doors.  This  shall  be  a  sign  to  the 
destroying  angel.  Looking  upon  this  sign, 
lie  will  pass  over  the  house  ;  will  strike  no 
blow,  and  execute  no  vengeance,  wherever 
he  sees  the  blood  sprinkled.  All  this,  in 
pursuance  of  the  divine  direction,  being  per- 
formed, with  faith  and  tranquillity  they  wait 
the  event. 

You  will  say,  perhaps,  What  is  all  this 
to  us  ?  I  answer,  It  is  a  pattern  for  our 
imitation.  Are  we  then  to  do  the  very 
same  thing  ?  We  are  to  do  what  their  prac- 
tice typified.  The  shadow  was  theirs,  the 
substance  is  ours.  The  blood  of  the  lamb 
typified  the  blood  of  Christ,  who  is  the 
Lamb  of  God,  slain  for  the  sins  of  the 
world.  By  the  blood  of  Christ  is  fre- 
quently signified  in  Scripture,  the  whole 
merit  of  his  life  and  death,  of  his  actions 
and  sufltrings,  of  his  trials  and  graces ; 
which  satisfied  God's  justice,  and  magnified 
God's  law  ;  which  made  propitiation  for 
iniquity,  and  brought  in  an  everlasting  righ- 
teousness. Well  does  the  apostle  call  it 
j)recious  blood  :  Unspeakably  precious  are 
its  effects.  It  appeaseth  the  wrath  of  God 
revealed  from  heaven,  and  makes  peace  be- 
tween the  offended  Creator  and  the  ofl'end- 
ing  creature.  Sprinkled  on  the  conscience, 
it  takes  away  all  guilt,  and  secures  from  all 
vengeance.  This,  therefore,  my  brethren, 
this  blood  is  our  security.  This  is  to  our 
souls  what  the  blood  of  the  paschal  lamb 
was  to  the  Israelitish  families.  The  name 
of  the  Lord,  the  grace  and  goodness  of  God 
manifested  in  the  death  and  obedience  of 
Christ,  is  a  strong  tower  ;  not  only  the 
righteous  person,  but  the  distressed  creature, 
and  the  endangered  sinner,  runneth  unto  it, 
and  is  safe.     Prov.  xviii.  10- 

Since  this  is  a  point  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance, it  cannot  be  too  clearly  displayed,  or 
too  strongly  established.  For  this  purpose, 
the  Scripture  gives  us  several  most  amiable 
and  instructive  views  of  Christ,  as  our  re- 
fuge and  safety.  He  is  called  a  hiding-place, 
Isa.  xxxii.  2.  To  a  hiding-place  people  re- 
treat, and  are  secure  from  their  enemies, 
even  from  those  cruel  enemies  that  seek 
their  destruction.  Thus  the  prophets, 
whom  Obadiah  hid  by  fifty  in  a  cave,  were 
secure  from  Ahab's  tyranny  and  Jezabel's 
persecution.  So  the  soul  that  fiies  to  Christ, 
that  takes  sanctuary  under  the  blood  ol 
.s|.rinkling,  is  secure  from  the  most  foi  rnida- 
ble  of  ail  enemies  J    is  secure  from   all  tl'.e 


wrath  due  to  sin,  and  from  every  accusation 
which  Satan  can  bring.  To  such  a  person 
shall  be  fulfilled  what  is  spoken  by  the  pro- 
phet Jeremiah  :  "  When  the  iniquity  of 
Israel  shall  be  sought  for,  there  shall  be 
none;  and  the  sins  of  Jtidah,  they  shall  not 
be  found."    Jer.  1.  20. 

Christ  is  styled  a  "  covert  from  the  tem- 
pest." "  A  man,"  says  Isaiah,  that  is,  the 
God- man  Christ  Jesus,  "shall  be  as  an 
hiding-place  from  the  wind,  and  a  covert 
from  the  tempest."  Isa.  xxxii.  2.  When 
the  thunders  roar,  and  the  lightnings  flash  ; 
when  the  cfouds  pour  down  water,  and  a 
horrid  storm  comes  on  :  all  that  are  in  the 
open  air  retire  under  the  branches  of  a  thick 
tree,  or  fly  to  some  other  commodious  shel- 
ter. What  storm  can  be  so  dreadful  as  the 
righteous  vengeance  of  God,  poured  out  upon 
a  sinful  nation  ?  What  storm  can  be  so 
dreadful  as  the  eternal  vengeance  of  God, 
poured  out  upon  a  sinful  soul  ?  To  both 
these  we  are  exposed,  to  both  these  we  are 
justly  liable.  But  Christ's  blood  and  right- 
eousness are  a  covert.  Hither  we  may  fly 
and  be  screened,  hither  we  may  fly  and  be 
safe  ;  safe  as  was  Noah  when  he  entered 
the  ark,  and  God's  ovrn  hand  closed  the  door, 
and  God's  own  eye  guided  its  motions.  For 
"  there  is  no  condemnation"  of  any  kind, 
or  from  any  quarter,  "  to  them  that  are  in 
Christ  Jesus."  Rom.  viii.  1. 

Christ  is  compared  to  a  stronghold. 
"  Turn  ye  to  the  stronghold,"  says  the  pro- 
phet Zechariah,  chap.  ix.  12.  When  sold- 
iers fly  from  a  victorious  army,  being  admit- 
ted into  an  impregnable  castle,  they  are  be- 
yond the  reach  of  danger.  They  give  their 
fears  to  the  wind,  and  repose  themselves  in 
tranquillity.  When  sinners  fly  by  faith  to 
the  dying  Jesus,  they  also,  from  henceforth, 
are  in  "  a  tower  of  salvation,"  2  Sam.  xxii. 
51-  They  may  say,  each  one  for  himself, 
"  Soul,  take  thine  ease :  All  thy  guilt  is 
laid  upon  thy  Lord,  and  punished  in  thy 
surety.  The  flaming  sword  of  justice  is  re- 
turned to  the  sheath,  having  received  full 
satisfaction  from  the  sufferings  of  Christ. 
The  curse  of  a  violated  law  is  no  more, 
having  been  executed  to  the  utmost  upon 
the  person  of  my  Redeemer.  Nay,  its 
curse  is  turned  into  a  blessing.  For  Christ 
has  redeemed  us  from  the  curse  of  the  law, 
that  the  blessing  of  Abraham  might  come 
upon  us  Gentiles,  Gal.  iii.  13,  14,  even  the 
blessing  of  perfect  reconciliation,  and  ever- 
lasting friendship  with  God  most  high." 

This  leads  me  to  mention  another  beau- 
tiful comparison,  which  represents  Christ 
not  only  as  the  cause  of  safety,  but  as  the 
source  of  consolation.  He  shall  be  "  as  ri- 
vers of  water  in  a  dry  place,  and  as  the  sha- 
dow of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land,"  Issu 
xxxii.  2.  In  a  dry  place,  burnt  np  for  want 
of  moisture,  nothing  is  so  desirable,  nothing 


THE  MEANS  OI<   SAFETY. 


(557 


so'refresliini!^  as  water.  To  the  poor  sin- 
ful soul,  of  whose  condition  tlie  parched 
ground  is  a  fit  resemblance,  Christ  siiall  be, 
not  barely  as  the  mornint:;  dew,  not  barely 
as  the  transient  shower,  but  as  a  river  ;  yea, 
as  rivers  of  water  that  flow  in  copious  and 
iu'ver-railiiig  streams  through  the  thirsty 
soil,  making  even  the  sandy  desert  green 
with  herbage,  and  gay  with  flowers.  In  a 
sultry  clime,  where  the  sun  poin-s  insuffera- 
ble heat,  and  all  things  languish  under  the 
glaring  rays,  nothing  is  so  cheering  to  the 
labourer,  nothing  so  welcome  to  the  travel- 
ler, as  a  cool  and  gloomy  shade.  A  poor 
soul,  assaulted  by  the  fiery  darts  of  Satan, 
and  distressed  with  the  remembrance  of  for- 
mer iniquities,  is  this  sultry  clime,  or  wea- 
ry land.  But  Christ  and  his  atonement  are 
not  barely  as  the  boughs  of  an  oak,  which 
extend  their  coolness  to  a  small  distance ; 
not  barely  as  the  canopy  of  an  alcove, 
through  which  much  of  the  glowing  influ- 
ence penetrates ;  but  like  the  shadow  of  a 
rock,  a  great  rock,  which  projects  the  friend- 
ly shade  over  many  a  league,  which  has  re- 
pelled and  excluded  the  sun  through  all  pre- 
ceding ages,  and  gives  you,  as  it  were,  "  the 
cold  of  snow  amidst  the  heat  of  harvest." 
Prov.  XXV.  13. 

Here,  then,  brethren,  is  our  security 
amidst  all  peril.  The  blood,  the  righteous- 
ness, the  infinitely  glorious  person  of  Christ ; 
these  are  our  hiding-place,  these  are  our  co- 
vert, these  are  our  stronghold.  And 
blessed  be  God !  the  doors  stand  wide 
open  ;  they  are  never  shut,  night  nor  day. 
The  access  is  free  for  any,  free  for  all,  free 
for  the  greatest  siimers.  We  are  not  only 
allowed,  but  we  are  invited  ;  nay,  we  are 
commanded  to  approach,  to  enter,  to  enjoy 
the  protection  ;  or,  as  the  words  of  the 
text  express  it,  to  sprinkle  the  blood  on  our 
bouls. 

Sprinkle  the  blood  on  our  souls  !  You 
will  probably  say,  "  What  does  this  signi- 
fy ?  What  was  dojie  by  Moses,  when  he 
S])rinkled  the  visible  blood,  we  easily  appre- 
hend ;  but  how  can  we  sprinkle  the  blood 
of  fJhrist,  which  we  never  saw  ;  the  blood 
of  Christ,  whom  the  heavens  have  receiv- 
ed ?"  This  is  one  of  those  mysteries  which 
the  natural  man  understandeth  not ;  he  can 
form  no  notion  of  it ;  it  is  foolishness  to 
liis  ai)prehension.  Therefore,  may  the  eter- 
nal Spirit  both  teach  us  to  understand  the 
doctrine,  and  enable  us  to  practise  the  duty  ! 

To  sprinkle  the  blood  of  Christ,  is  truly 
to  believe  in  Christ,  in  his  infinite  atone- 
ment and  everlasting  righteousness  :  it  is  to 
receive  these  blessings  as  Gods  free  gift  to 
men,  to  sinners,  to  ourselves  in  particular ; 
and  having  received,  to  make  continual  use 
of  them  in  every  time  of  trial,  for  every  oc- 
casion of  need. 

Perhaps  this  doctrine  may  become  clearer, 


if  we  illustrate  it  by  an  exampie.  A  re- 
markable example  we  have  in  the  practice 
of  David.  After  the  commission  of  his 
grievous  crimes,  he  did  in  a  very  eminent 
manner  sprinkle  the  blood  :  For  he  said  un- 
to the  Lord,  "  Thou  s'halt  purge  me  with 
hyssop,"  the  instrument  of  sprinkling  the 
typical  blood,  "and  I  shall  be  clean  ;  thou 
shalt  wash  me"  in  the  fountain  open  for 
sin  and  for  uncleanness,  "  and  I  shall  be 
whiter  than  snow,''  Psalm  li.  7.  This  foun- 
tain he  looked  upon  as  opened  for  his  sins, 
and  fully  sufficient  to  cleanse  him  from  all 
his  fikhiness  ;  so  that  he  should  be  as  free 
from  spot,  before  the  righteous  Judge,  as 
the  snow  on  Salmon  was  free  from  stain. 
Had  he  said  within  himself,  "  My  crimes 
are  too  great  for  this  blood  to  expiate  ;"  or, 
"  This  blood  cannot  be  shed  for  so  vile  an 
offender  as  I  am  ;"  he  would  then  have  put 
the  atonement  far  from  him,  together  with 
all  its  expiating  virtue.  'Fhis  would  have 
been,  not  to  apply,  but  to  throw  away  the 
blood;  not  to  sprinkle  it  upon  the  soul,  but 
to  pour  it  upon  the  ground. 

Come  then,  brethren  ;  come,  fellow-sin- 
ners ;  let  us  also,  in  this  day  of  fear  and 
danger,  look  unto  Christ,  as  dying  that  we 
may  live  ;  as  made  sin,  that  we  may  be 
made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him  ;  as 
made  a  curse,  that  we  may  inherit  eternal 
blessedness.  Let  us  look  unto  Jesus  as  tak- 
ing our  nature,  and  standing  in  our  stead. 
Behold  him  apprehended  as  a  thief;  igno- 
miniously  bound,  and  marked  with  the  lashes 
of  the  scourge.  Behold  him  crowned  with 
thorns  ;  his  hair  clotted,  his  face  discolour- 
ed, his  breast  and  shoulders  all  bedewed 
with  his  own  most  innocent  jlood.  Behold 
him  nailed  to  the  cross  ;  hanging  in  the 
most  racking  posture,  till  all  his  bones  are 
out  of  joint  ;  hanging  amidst  malefactors, 
forsaken  of  God,  of  angels  and  men.  Be- 
hold him  bowing  his  head  in  death,  and 
stabbed  to  the  heart  with  the  executioner's 
spear.  Thus  behold  him,  and  say,  "  Verily, 
this  sufferer  was  the  Son  of  God,  and  the 
Lord  of  glory.  Verily,  these  sufferings 
were  the  punishment  due  to  my  sins.  Jn 
all  this  extreme  anguish  he  bore  my  griefs, 
and  carried  my  sorrows.  He  was  oppres- 
sed, and  he  was  afflicted,  because  I  had 
done  amiss,  and  dealt  wickedly.  He  was 
cut  off  out  of  the  land  of  the  living,  that  he 
might  make  his  soul  an  offering  for  my  sins, 
and  obtain  eternal  redemption  for  me." 

Thus  behold  the  blessed  Jesus  ;  thus, 
sinners,  behold  the  Lord  your  righteous- 
ness ;  with  this  look  of  application,  with 
this  appropriating  fiiith.  Be  verily  persuad- 
ed that  you  shall  find  mercy  before  a  holy 
God,  not  because  you  have  any  worthi- 
ness, but  because  Christ  has  incomparable 
merit ;  that  you  shall  never  come  into  con- 
demnation, not  because  you  have  fasted  and 
•2  u 


638 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 


prayed,  bat  because  Christ  is  your  great  pro-  I 
pitiation.  Be  persuaded,  that  God  has  given 
his  Son  for  you ;  that  God  gives  his  Son 
to  you ;  and  together  with  him  eternal  life,  j 
Be  persuaded  of  all  this,  upon  the  best  of 
foundations,  the  infallible  word  of  God ; 
who  has  declared,  that  Christ  died  for  the 
ungodly,  Rom.  v.  6  ;  and  by  his  obedience 
sinners  are  made  righteous,  Rom.  v.  19  ; 
that  Christ  was  wounded  on  the  cross,  and 
intercedes  in  heaven  for  transgressors,  Isa. 
liii.  12  ;  that  he  received  spiritual  gifts, 
and  divine  blessings,  even  for  the  rebellious, 
Psalm  Ixviii.  18.  The  Lord  God  omnipo- 
tent, the  author  and  finisher  of  faith,  enable 
you  thus  to  believe  !  on  the  ground  of  his 
own  most  sure  word,  thus  to  believe  !  Then 
you  keep  the  Christian  passover  ;  then  you 
sprinkle  the  blood  of  Christ ;  then  you  may 
boldly  say,  "  Under  his  shadow  we  shall  be 
safe."  Which  reminds  us  of  the  third  par- 
ticular, namely, 

III.  The  success  of  this  method,  denot- 
ed by  the  destroyer  not  so  much  as  touch- 
ing them  :  "  Lest  he  that  destroyed  the 
first-born  shoidd  touch  them."  What  a 
beautiful  antithesis  !  The  Egyptian  first- 
born were  wounded,  were  mortally  wound- 
ed, were  absolutely  destroyed  ;  the  Israelites 
were  not  hurt,  nor  endangered,  no,  nor  so 
much  as  touched.  So  sure  and  complete  a 
defence  was  this  blood  of  sprinkling !  No- 
thing else  could  have  yielded  any  protection  -. 
this  afforded  perfect  security.  When  this 
was  sprinkled  on  their  door-posts,  they  had 
no  cause  to  be  "  afraid  for  the  terror  by 
night,  nor  for  the  arrow  that  flieth  by  day ; 
for  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in  darkness, 
nor  for  the  destruction  that  wasteth  at  noon- 
day." Psalm  xci.  5,  6. 

And  is  not  the  hiding-place,  the  covert, 
the  stronghold,  provided,  for  us  in  the 
blood  and  righteousness  of  Christ,  an  equal 
security  ?  do  they  not  yield  absolute,  per- 
fect, consummate  safety?  Nothing  else  could 
administer  the  least  hope  to  the  chiefest 
apostle ;  this  opens  an  inviolable  sanctuary 
even  for  the  greatest  of  sinners.  None 
ever  perished  who  laid  their  help  upon 
Christ.  He  saves,  he  saves  to  the  utter- 
most ;  he  saves  not  a  few  only,  but  all — all 
"  that  come  unto  God  through  him,"  Heb. 
vii.  25.  Is  our  danger  great  ?  Our  security 
is  greater.  Is  our  danger  exceeding  great  ? 
Our  security  is  incomparably  greater.  In 
short,  our  refuge  and  security  are  the  great- 
est that  can  be  wished,  that  can  be  imagined, 
that  God  himself  could  provide.  Cheering, 
charming,  ravishing  truth  !  Suffer  me  to 
enlarge  upon  it,  brethren  :  Let  your  atten- 
tion hang  on  the  glad  tidings  :  May  your 
hearts  imbibe  the  precious  doctrine  ! 

Had  "more  than  forty  men  bound  them- 
selves with  an  oath,  that  they  would  neither 
eat  nor  drink   till   they  had  killed"   (Acts 


xxiii.  21,)  some  one  in"^  this  congregation' 
the  danger  would  be  great,  and  the  case 
startling.  Nevertheless  the  endangered  per- 
son would  think  himself  sufficiently  safe,  if 
he  could  steal  away,  and  hide  himself  in  one 
of  the  deepest  caves  of  America,  with  a  vast 
tract  of  unknown  land,  and  all  the  waters  of 
tlie  vaster  ocean,  between  himself  and  the 
ruffians.  Much  safer  will  your  souls  be 
under  the  hiding,  cleansing,  and  atoning 
efficacy  of  this  blood  of  sprinkling ;  by 
which  unrighteousnesses  are  forgiven,  sin» 
are  covered,  and  iniquities  done  away,  as 
though  they  had  never  been. 

Were  you  overtaken  by  a  violent  and 
impetuous  storm  :  If  you  sought  shelter  un- 
der a  covert  that  was  firmer  than  boards  of 
cedar,  harder  than  slabs  of  marble,  thicker 
than  the  roofs  of  all  the  houses  in  Europe  ; 
you  would  reckon  yourselves  secure  from 
torrents  of  rain,  or  from  volleys  of  hail. 
Much  more  secure  will  you  be  from  ever- 
lastmg  wrath ;  secure,  even  when  "  the 
Lord  shall  rain  snares,  fire  and  brimstone, 
storm  and  tempest,"  Psalm  xi.  6 ;  provided 
you  are  found  under  the  covert  of  Christ's 
magnificent  and  meritorious  righteousness  : 
by  virtue  of  which,  "  all  that  believe  are 
justified,"  I  say  not  from  millions,  or 
from  thousands  of  millions,  but  from  all 
offensive,  provoking,  criminal  things.  Acts 
xiii.  39. 

Should  you  be  pursued  by  a  conquer- 
ing foe,  determined  to  cut  you  in  pieces  : 
If  you  turned  into  a  castle  whose  walls 
were  stronger  thati  brass,  stronger  than  ada- 
mant, stronger  than  all  the  rocks  in  the 
world,  you  might  laugh  at  the  attempts  of 
your  enemies,  you  are  guarded  from  the 
power  and  peril  of  the  sword.  So,  and 
abundantly  more,  are  you  guarded  fiom 
every  spiritual  enemy,  and  from  every  spi- 
ritual evil,  when  you  fly  to  the  stronghold  of 
Christ's  death  and  atonement.  The  souls 
that  abide  in  Christ,  "  they  shall  divell  on 
high,"  beyond  the  rage  of  the  old  serpent, 
and  the  great  dragon  ;  "  their  place  of  de- 
fence shall  be  the  munitions  of  rocks," 
Isaiah  xxxiii.  16,  against  which  ail  the  as- 
saults of  earth  and  hell  shall  never  be  able 
to  prevail.  They  may  say,  with  the  tri- 
umphant apostle,  "  How  much  more  shall 
we,  who  receive  abundance  of  grace,  and 
of  the  gift  of  righteousness,"  be  delivered 
from  ruin,  and  "  reign  in  life  by  Christ 
Jesus  !"  Rom.  v-  17. 

And  will  you  not  prize  such  a  strong- 
hold ?  shall  not  such  a  covert  be  dear  to 
your  guilty  soids?  will  you  not  set  an  ex- 
ceeding great  value  upon  such  an  hiding- 
place  ?  especially  when  the  storm  is  gather- 
ing, and  threatening  all  around  ;  when  days 
of  desolation  and  perplexity  are  coming  up- 
on the  woHd,  and  judgments,  inflicted  by 
men,    may  transmit   us   to  the  everiasting 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 


059 


jii(l;rmpnt  of  (iod  ?  How  did  Israel  bless 
and  adore  their  most  merciful  Jehovah,  for 
granting'  them  such  an  eifectual  means  of 
preservation  as  the  blood  of  the  paschal 
liitiib  !  And  shall  not  we  bless  and  adore 
the  same  most  gracious  Jehovah,  for  grant- 
ing- us  a  means  of  preservation  altogether  as 
effectual,  and  incomparably  more  wonderful  'i 

It'  you  should  say,  "  How  does  it  appear, 
that  the  blood  of  Christ  is  such  a  security  ? 
so  great,  so  wonderful,  so  matchless  !"'  Be- 
cause it  is  the  blood  of  him  who  is  "  Jeho- 
vah's fellow,"  Zech.  xiii.  7  ;  of  him  who 
"  is  God  over  all,  blessed  for  ever."  Rom. 
ix.  5 ;  of  him  "  in  whom  dwells  all  the  ful- 
ness of  the  Godhead  bodily,"  Col.  ii.  9. 
Permit  me,  brethren,  to  clear  up  and  esta- 
blish this  doctrine  ;  as  it  is  a  doctrine  of 
the  last  importance,  on  which  the  very 
stiength  of  our  salvation  is  built,  and  from 
which  the  fulness  of  our  consolation  Hows. 

There  are  in  Christ,  in  his  one  undivid- 
ed person,  two  distinct  natures.  One  na- 
ture is  eternal,  infinite,  almighty;  which  is 
called  by  the  apostle  the  form  of  God,  Phil, 
ii.  6.  The  other  nature  had  a  beginning  ; 
is  limited  as  to  extent,  and  limited  as  to 
power.  This  is  termed  by  the  apostle  the 
si'ed  of  Abraham,  Heii.  ii.  16.  As  God, 
he  i'  vubject  to  no  authority,  and  infinitely 
superior  to  all  possibility  of  suifering.  To 
become  capable  of  obeying,  suffering  and 
dying,  he  humbled  himself,  and  was  found 
in  fashion  as  a  man  ;  that,  by  ob^ing,  suf- 
fering, and  dying,  in  human  tlesh,  he  might 
triumph  over  sin  and  Satan,  in  that  veryna- 
tin'e  which  Satan  had  overcome,  and  sin 
had  ruined  :  that,  by  accomplishing  all  this 
in  the  room  and  stead  of  his  people,  he 
might  bring  many  sons  unto  glory ;  not 
without  a  full  satisfaction  to  the  ri.ghts  of 
injured  justice,  and  to  the  demands  of  a 
violated  law. 

Jesus  Christ  then,  in  his  divine  nature, 
is  the  most  high  (jod.  The  heaven  of 
heavens  is  the  august  palace  and  royal  resi- 
dence of  this  blessed  and  only  Potentate. 
Thousand  thousands  minister  unto  him,  and 
ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  stand  l)e- 
fore  him.  The  church  militant  rely  on  him  ; 
the  church  triumphant  adore  him  ;  while  all 
the  hosts  of  angels  pay  homage  to  him. 
.Testis  Christ,  in  his  divine  nature,  is  the 
majestic  and  adorable  /  am ;  self-ex'stent 
ami  inde|)cniient.  All  worlds  and  all  beings 
are  derived  wholly  from  him,  and  (ie])end 
continually  upon  hiirt;  he  "made  the  worlds, 
and  uphoideth  all  things."  Heb.  i.  2,  3. 
View  the  beauty,  the  magnificence,  the  har- 
mony, observable  in  heaven,  on  earth, 
through  the  universe.  All  is  intended,  like 
the  miracle  wrought  at  Cana  of  (ialilee,  to 
"  manifest  his  glory,"  John  ii.  11;  to  tell 
every  one  who  has  eyes  to  see,  atid  a 
lieurt  to  understand,  how  great  our  Saviour 


IS,  how  sublime  his  majesty,  and  how  mar- 
vellous his  perfection.  All  things,  says  the 
Spirit  of  inspiration,  were  created  by  him, 
and  for  him,  Col.  i.  16.  Judge  then, 
whether  the  obedience  and  atonement  of 
such  a  Redeemer  are  not  sufficient  to  se- 
cure, perfectly  to  secure  any  sinner,  every 
sinner,  all  sinners,  that  fly  by  faith  under 
his  wings.  As  perfectly  sufficient  they  are 
for  this  blessed  purpose,  as  the  unmeasura- 
bie  circuit  of  the  skies  is  roomy  enough  for 
a  lark  to  fly  in,  or  as  the  immense  orb  of 
the  sun  is  beamy  enough  for  a  labourer  to 
work  by. 

Behold  now  the  dignity  and  excellency 
of  this  blood,  which  is  your  covert,  your 
hiding-place,  your  stronghold.  It  has  all 
the  power  and  efficacy  that  every  divine 
perfection  can  give  it.  It  is  the  blood  and 
righteousness  of  him  who  is  eternal,  incom- 
])rehensible,  and  exalted  above  all  blessing 
and  praise.  Sur<^ly  then  nothing  can  bear 
any  proportion  to  it.  Guilt,  all  guilt, 
though  ever  so  execrable  and  hon-id  com- 
pared with  the  grandeur  and  riches  of  this 
invaluable  blood,  is  as  a  glow-worm  before 
the  sun.  All  manner  of  sins  and  blasphe- 
mies are  blotted  out  by  such  an  expiation, 
as  the  shades  of  night  are  abolished  by  the 
light  of  day.  Every  sinner  washed  in  this 
blood  must  be  whiter  than  the  unsullied 
wool,  whiter  than  the  virgin  snows.  Every 
siimer  clothed  in  this  righteousness,  must 
be  unblamable  and  unreprovable,  even  be- 
fore the  eve  of  Omniscience  itself. 

For  this,  therefore,  bless  the  Lord,  O 
my  soul!  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless 
his  holy  name.  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my 
brethren  ;  and  let  every  thing  that  hath  a 
being  praise  his  unutterable  grace  :  For, 
"behold!  God  is  our  salvation."  God 
himself  is  made  flesh  an^  become  our  sa. 
criiiee,  our  sin-offering,  our  justifying  right- 
eousness :  "  therefore  will  we  trust,  and 
not  be  afraid,"  Isa.  xii.  2  ;  trust  in  this  in- 
finitely sufficient  Saviour,  and  not  be  afraid 
of  death  or  hell,  of  any  enemy,  or  any  evil. 
But  this  leads  me  to  apply  the  whole ; 
which  I  shall  do  by  way  of  Examination,-— 
Direction, — Exhortation, —  Consolation. 

1 .  By  way  of  examination.  "  Examine 
your  ownselves,"  says  the  apostle,  2  Cor. 
xiii.  5.  Have  you  kept  the  passover?  have 
you  sprinkled  the  blood  ?  Many,  perhaps, 
will  be  ready  to  answer,  "  We  have."  But 
beware,  my  friends,  lest  ye  deceive  your 
own  souls.  Let  me  give  you  a  touchstone, 
whereby  you  may  try  your  spirit,  and  pro- 
nounce aright  concerning  your  state. 

Have  you  been  convinced  of  your  great 
sinfulness  '  of  your  sinful  nature,  and  your 
sinful  practice  V  Have  you  been  made  sen- 
sible, that  Sell,  the  deepest  hell,  is  your 
deserved  ])ortion?  is  what  you  deserve  for 
any  transgi-essioii,  for  every  transgression  ? 


6(50 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 


how  much  more  for  the  many  thousands  ; 
how  much  more  for  the  many  millions  ; 
how  much  more  for  the  numberless  multi- 
tude of  your  provocations  ?  If  you  have 
never  been  convinced  of  these  most  alarm- 
ing, but  certain  truths  ;  if  you  have  never 
been  touched  with  a  sense  of  your  extreme 
guilt  and  undone  state — 1  fear  you  are  set- 
tled upon  your  lees,  you  are  in  the  dead 
sleep  of  sin.  You  are  not  so  much  as 
awakened :  much  less  have  you  applied 
Christ. 

Again,  Have  you  been  made  to  see,  that 
nothing  but  Christ  and  his  precious  blood, 
nothing  but  Christ  and  his  divine  righte- 
ousness, can  be  your  security  from  ven- 
geance ?  Have  you  been  convinced,  that 
thousands  of  rams,  and  ten  thousands  of  ri- 
vers of  oil,  could  never  expiate  the  least  of 
your  iniquities  ?  that  no  tears,  no  confes- 
sions, no  amendment,  nothing  but  the  sa- 
crifice of  the  body  of  Chcist,  can  make  your 
peace  with  God  ?  If  you  have  not  been 
taught  the  absolute  insufficiency  of  every 
remedy,  save  only  the  meritorious  sufferings 
of  Jesus  Christ ;  you  have  not  seen  him, 
neither  known  him,  much  less  is  his  blood 
sprinkled  upon  your  conscience. 

Once  more.  Have  you  a  supreme,  a 
matchless  esteem  for  Christ?  Is  Christ 
and  his  great  salvation  the  thing  that  you 
long  for?  is  he  to  your  souls  the  pearl  of 
great  price?  do  you  account  all  things  but 
loss,  that  you  may  win  (Christ,  and  be  found 
in  him  ?  If  this  is  not  the  state  of  your 
soul,  I  dare  not  flatter  you  with  vain 
hopes  ;  I  must  not  buoy  you  up  with  uii- 
grounded  imaginations.  You  are  not,  as 
yet,  in  your  hiding-place ;  neither  have  you 
fled  to  your  stronghold.  All  the  curses  of 
the  divine  law  stand  charged  and  pointed 
full  against  you.  You  have  no  security 
from  being  hurt  by  the  first  death,  nor  from 
being  irrecoverably  ruined  by  the  second 
death.  If  judgments  should  come  upon  a 
sinful  and  backsliding  people,  you  have  no 
defence ;  there  is  no  wall  of  fire  around 
you.  You  must  therefore  expect  to  fall 
among  those  that  fall  ;  and,  falling  by  the 
sword,  may  immediately  drop  into  hell. 

Can  you  hear  this,  and  be  unconcerned  ? 
can  you  listen  to  this  warning,  more  awful 
than  the  voice  of  ten  thousand  thunders, 
and  not  start  from  your  insensibility  ?  are 
you  not  looking  around,  and  ready  to  cry 
out,  "What  then  shall  I  do  to  be  safe  in 
the  day  of  evil?"  O!  that  this  inquiry 
came  from  the  very  bottom  of  your  hearts. 
I  should  then  proceed,  with  great  cheerful- 
ness, to 

2.  A  word  of  direction.  Fly  to  Christ, 
alarmed  sinners  !  Come  under  the  covert  of 
his  blood.  Appropriate  the  blessed  Jesus, 
look  upon  him  and  his  merit  as  your  own. 
Thus  sprinkle  his  blood  :  sprinkle  it  upon 


your  lintel  and  door-posts  ;  upon  all  yoo 
are,  upon  all  you  have,  and  all  you  do  j 
upon  your  consciences,  that  they  may 
be  purged ;  upon  your  souls,  that  they  may 
be  sanctified  ;  upon  your  works,  that  they 
may  be  accepted.  Say,  every  one  for  him- 
self, "  I  am  a  poor,  guilty,  helpless  crea- 
ture ;  but  in  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  full  of 
grace  and  truth,  I  have  righteousness  and 
strength,"  Isa.  xlv.  24-  I  am  a  poor,  pol- 
luted, loathsome  creature  ;  but  Jesus 
Christ,  who  is  the  image  of  the  invisible 
God,  and  the  brightness  of  his  Father's 
glory,  has  "  loved  me,  and  washed  me  from 
my  filthiness  in  his  own  blood,"  Rev.  i.  5. 
I  am  by  nature  a  perverse  depraved  crea- 
ture ;  and  by  evil  practice,  a  lost,  damnable 
sinner ;  but  Jesus  Christ,  who  made  the 
worlds — Jesus  Christ,  whom  heaven  and 
earth  adore — even  Jesus  Christ  himself 
came  from  the  mansions  of  bliss,  on  pur- 
pose to  seek  me,  to  save  me,  Matth.  xviii. 
11,  to  give  himself  for  me.  And  how  can- 
I  perish,  who  have  such  a  ransom  ?  how 
can  I  be  undone,  who  have  such  a  repairer 
of  my  breaches  ?  how  can  I  come  into  con- 
de.nnation,  who  have  the  blood,  not  of  ten 
thousand  sacrifices  ;  the  merit,  not  of  ten 
thousand  angels  ;  but  the  blood  and  merit 
of  Jehovah  himself  for  my  propitiation? 

Should  you  say,  "  Have  I  a  warrant  for 
such  a  trust  ?"  You  have  the  best  of  war- 
rants, our  Lord's  express  permission, 
"  Whosoever  will,  let  him  tak«  the  water  of 
life  freely,"  Rev.  xxii.  17.  It  is  not  said, 
this  or  that  person  only,  but  whosoever ; 
including  you  and  me  ;  excluding  no  indi- 
vidual man  or  woman.  It  is  not  said,  who- 
soever is  worthy,  but  whosoever  is  willing. 
"Wilt  thou  be  made  whole?"  was  our 
Lord's  question  to  the  impotent  man  at  the 
pool  of  Bethesda.  Wilt  thou,  all  terms  and 
conditions  apart,  inherit  grace  and  glory  ?  is 
his  most  benevolent  address  to  sinful  men 
in  all  ages.  "  Let  him  take  the  water  of 
life;"  let  him  receive  me  and  my  righteous- 
ness ;  let  him  look  upon  all  that  I  have 
done  and  suffered,  as  done  and  suffered  for 
his  redemption.  This  will  administer  peace 
of  conscience,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost ; 
this  will  produce  love  of  God,  and  alacrity 
of  obedience  ;  in  which  things  the  true  life 
of  the  soul  consists.  All  these  blessings 
are  to  be  received  freely,  without  money 
and  without  price  ;  that  is,  withuut  any  good 
works,  any  good  qualities,  or  any  prepara- 
tory requisites  whatever  :  to  be  received,  as 
the  infinitely  rich  gift  of  divine  grace,  vouch- 
safed even  to  the  lost,  the  guilty,  the  un- 
done. 

You  have  our  Lord's  most  gracious  in- 
vitation, "  Come  unto  me."  And  whom 
does  he  call?  The  righteous?  No.  The 
excellent  ?  Quite  the  reverse.  He  calls 
siniwrs  j  miserable  sinners  ;  even  the  most 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 


6GI 


niscraLlc  of  siiniors  ;  those  who  are  "  weary 
jiiid  hciivy  ladeti  ;"  overwhelmed  with  ini- 
<|uities  ;  bowed  down  to  the  very  brink  of 
hell,  and  ready  to  think  "■  there  is  no  hope 
for  them."  Yet  them  he  eneourages  ;  them 
he  invites  ;  to  them  he  declares,  "  I  will 
give  you  rest,"  Matth.  xi.  '28 ;  rest  in  the 
enjoyment  of  peace  with  God,  and  peace  in 
your  own  consciences.  Ol)serve  and  ad- 
mire the  riches  of  your  Eedeemer's  grace. 
He  s;ivs  not,  Ye  arc  vile  wretches,  ])ol- 
hited  by  sin  and  enslaved  to  the  devil ; 
tlierefore  keep  at  a  distance  ;  but,  There- 
lore  come.  Come,  and  be  cleansed  by  my 
blood ;  come,  and  be  made  free  by  my  Spi- 
rit. He  says  not.  Furnish  yourselves  with 
this,  or  that,  or  the  other  recommending 
acconi])lishment,  but  only  Come  :  come  just 
as  you  are  ;  poor,  undone,  guilty  creatures. 
Yea,  coine  to  me  for  pardon  and  recovery; 
to  me,  who  have  given  my  life,  myself,  my 
all,  for  your  ransom. 

Should  you  still  question,  whether  these 
inestimable  blessings  are  free  for  you  ?  Re- 
member, brethren,  they  are  free  for  sinners. 
Is  this  your  character  ?  Then  they  are  as 
free  for  your  acceptance,  as  i'or  any  person's 
in  the  world.  "  To  us  eternal  life  is  given," 
1  John  V.  1 1  ;  not  us  who  had  deserved  it 
by  our  goodness,  but  us  who  had  forfeited 
it  by  our  sins.  "  To  you  is  preached  the 
forgiveness  of  sins,"  Acts  xiii.  38  ;  not  you 
whose  transgressions  were  inconsiderable, 
but  you  whose  iniquities  were  more  in  num- 
ber than  the  hairs  of  your  head.  Even  to 
you,  who  are  the  lost  and  perishing  sinners 
of  Adam's  family,  "  is  the  word  of  this  sal- 
vation sent."  Acts  xiii.  '26.  And,  by  a 
commission  from  God,  we  publish  it ;  that, 
as  sinners,  you  may  receive  it ;  that,  re- 
ceiving it,  you  may  conmience  believers  ; 
and  "  believing,  may  have  life  through  his 
name."  John  xx.  31. 

Some,  perhaps,  will  be  inclined  to  debate, 
"  Is  this  so  extraordinary  a  matter  ?  will 
this  exercise  of  believing  do  such  great 
things  for  us,  or  put  us  in  possession  of 
such  singular  blessings  ?"  Moses  might 
have  formed  the  same  scruple  with  regard 
to  the  sprinkling  of  blood.  Will  this  seem- 
ingly insigniticant  circumstance  be  such  an 
extraordinary  safeguard  to  us?  Will  this 
preserve  us  from  the  impending  blow,  more 
effectually  than  the  labours  of  the  engineer, 
or  the  shield  and  spear  of  the  warrior? 
But  Moses  consulted  not  with  ilesh  and 
blood ;  Moses  rejected  all  such  carnal  rea- 
sonings. By  faith  he  and  his  peoi)le  kept 
the  passover,  and  were  made  partakers  of 
the  temporal  salvation.  By  faith  may  you 
and  I  receive  {!hrist  !  So  sliall  we  bo  par- 
takers of  ])ardon  and  eternal  salvation. 

By  believing  the  promise  of  Cod,  and  by 
trusting  in  the  person  of  (Christ,  \\e  are 
united  to  the  Lord  Jesus,   Eph.  iii.  17,  .'^o 


as  to  have  a  real  interest  in  his  blood  and 
righteousness.  Being  united  to  Christ, 
our  sins  are  done  away  by  virtue  of  his  in- 
finitely precious  atonement ;  and  eternal 
life  becomes  ours,  on  account  of  his  ever- 
lasting righteousness.  Whoever  thus  be- 
lieves, believes  merely  as  a  sinner,  not  upon 
the  supposition  of  any  goodness  in  himself, 
but  upon  the  sole  warrant  of  God's  pro- 
mise in  the  infallible  word  of  the  gospel. 
Such  a  person  shall  not  be  ashamed  of  his 
belief;  shall  never  be  disappointed  of  his 
hope  ;  "  according  to  his  faith  shall  it  be 
unto  him."  Matth.  ix.  '29. 

Come  then,  fellow-sinners,  believe  the 
record  of  heaven.  Set  to  your  seal,  that 
God  is  true.  Honour  his  word,  which 
cannot  lie  ;  honour  his  grace,  which  is  ab- 
solutely free ;  honour  his  dear  Son,  who 
has  obtained  eternal  redemption  for  such 
unwortljy  creatures  as  you  and  I.  What 
shall  hinder  you  ?  But  this  leads  me  to, 

3.  A  word  of  exhortation.  I  say  then, 
what  shall  hinder  you  ?  what  shall  with- 
hold you,  a  single  moment,  from  believing, 
"  since  all  things  are  ready  "  ( Matth.  xxii. 
4)  in  Christ  Jesus  ?  The  great  propitia- 
tion is  made  by  him  ;  the  perfect  obedience 
is  performed  by  him  ;  all  the  conditions  of 
the  new  covenant  are  fulfilled  by  him. 
Come  then,  and  partake  of  the  heavenly 
blessings ;  as  you  partake  of  a  marriage- 
feast,  when  the  entertainment  is  all  pre- 
pared, and  the  bridegroom  bids  you  wel- 
come. 

Fain  would  I  prevail  in  this  most  im- 
l)ortant  address.  Lord,  make  bare  thy  arm  ; 
incline  their  hearts ;  "  make  them  willing 
in  the  day  of  thy  power,"  Psalm  ex.  3. 
My  dear  friends,  if  you  turn  away  from  such 
invitations,  you  are  ruined  to  eternity;  mi- 
sery awaits  you  here,  and  damnation  here- 
after. Suffer  me  then  to  be  importunate. 
Refuse  not  him  that  calleth  you  by  my 
mouth ;  that  bids  you  trust,  and  not  be 
afraid ;  that  offereth  himself,  with  all  his 
fidness,  to  you.  Why  are  you  backward  ? 
why  slow  of  heart  to  believe  ?  why  do  you 
stand  at  a  distance  from  the  all-gracious 
Jesus  ? 

Is  it  because  you  are  guilty  wretches  ? 
Then  he  publishes  the  act  of  indemnity  to 
you  :  "  I,  even  I,  am  he  that  blotteth  out 
your  transgressions,  for  mine  own  sake." 
Isa.  xliii.  "25.  Is  it  because  you  are  pol- 
luted creatures  ;  loathsome  in  your  own 
eyes,  and  much  more  loathsome  in  the  eye 
ot  infinite  ])urity  ?  Then  hear  the  word  of 
the  Holy  One  :  "  I  will  sprinkle  clean  wa- 
ter upon  you,  and  ye  shall  be  clean.  From 
all  your  filthiness,  and  from  all  your  idols 
will  I  cleanse  you."  Ezek.  xxxvi.  '25-  Is 
it  because  your  sins  are  more  numerou.^, 
and  moi-t  heinous  than  the  sins  of  others? 
Be  they  ever  so  heinous,  or  ever  .so  aggni- 


66-2 


THE  JiiEAIS'S  OF  SAFETY. 


vated,  thus  saith  the  God  of  inimensely 
rich  grace  in  Christ,  "  Though  your  sins 
be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  white  as  snow  ; 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall 
be  as  wool."  Isa.  i.  18. 

Are  you  still  objecting,  "  I  am  weak  ;  I 
have  no  strength ;  I  cannot  believe  ?" 
Look  then  to  a  promising  God,  that  he 
may  help  your  unbelief;  that  he  may  fulfil 
,n  you  all  tne  good  pleasure  of  his  will,  and 
the  work  of  faith  with  power.  For  he  who 
is  truth  itself  hath  said,  "  Your  God  will 
come  and  save  you.  Then  shall  the  eyes 
of  the  blind  be  opened,  and  the  ears  of  the 
deaf  shall  be  unstopped  ;  the  lame  man 
shall  leap  as  an  hart,  and  the  tongue  of  the 
dumb  shall  sing."  Isa.  xxxv.  4 — 6.  Has 
the  Lord  given  you  a  desire  to  believe  in 
his  dear  Son  ?  Doubt  not  but  he  will  also 
give  you  the  power.  Does  God  the  Lord 
bring  to  the  birth,  and  not  give  strength  to 
bring  forth  ?  That  be  far  from  him  !  the 
suspicion  be  far  from  us  !  He  has,  in  un- 
speakable mercy,  appointed  his  blessed  Spi- 
rit for  this  purpose.  The  Holy  Ghost,  the 
Comforter,  attendeth  continually  on  this 
very  thing,  to  testify  of  Christ,  and  to  re- 
veal Christ  in  our  smful  souls  ;  enabling  us 
to  discern  the  all-sufficiency  of  Christ,  to 
discern  our  right  to  make  use  of  Christ, 
and  to  receive  Christ  as  our  own,  our  own 
God  and  Saviour. 

Be  it  then  your  daily  endeavour,  your 
continual  business,  to  believe  ;  firmly,  con- 
fidently, assuredly  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ, 
as  the  great  and  glorious  Redeemer,  in 
whom  you  have  pardon,  you  have  righte- 
ousness, and  eternal  life.  Thus  exercise 
yourselves  unto  godliness,  and  "  God  will 
help  you  ;  God  will  strengthen  you  ;  yea, 
God  will  uphold  you  with  the  right  hand 
of  his  righteousness."  Thus  exercise  your- 
selves unto  godliness,  depending  on  the  di- 
vine faithfulness,  proceeding  on  the  divine 
warrant,  in  obedience  to  the  divine  com- 
mand, which  expressly  says,  "  Believe  in 
the  Lord  your  God,  so  shall  ye  be  establish- 
ed ;  believe  his  prophets,  so  shall  ye  pros- 
per," 2  Chron.  xx.  20 ;  "  believe  in  his 
dear  Son,  so  shall  ye  be  saved."  Acts  xvi. 
3L 

Pharaoh  said  to  Joseph,  "  Now  thou  art 
commanded,  this  do."  Gen.  xlv.  19.  Let 
me  also  say  to  my  hearers.  Now  ye  are  al- 
lowed, invited,  commanded  to  believe  in  the 
Son  of,,God,  this  do.  It  is  your  grand 
concern  ;  the  one  thing  needful.  Without 
this  nothing  will  profit  you.  Therefore  1 
repeat  my  exhortation  ;  therefore  I  am  so 
urgent ;  therefore  I  cannot  dismiss  the  sub- 
ject, without  beseeching  the  Father  of  mer- 
cies to  command  a  blessing  upon  the  word, 
that  you  may  indeed  "  believe  unto  righte- 
ousness," (Rom.  X.  10.)  unto  life,  unto  sal- 
vation.    Thus  will  you  glorify  the  ineffable 


goodness  of  God,  and  the  inestimable  me- 
rit of  Christ  ;  thus  will  you  find  a  sure,  a 
full,  and  incomparably  rich  provision  made 
for  your  safety  ;  and  thus  will  you  most  ef- 
fectually comply  with  that  tender  and  gra- 
cious invitation  of  the  Lord  your  Ciod, 
"  Come,  my  people  ;  enter  thou  into  thy 
chambers,  and  shut  thy  doors  about  thee  ; 
hide  thyself  as  it  weie  for  a  little  moment, 
until  the  indignation  be  overpast.  For,  be- 
hold !  the  Lord  cometh  out  of  his  j)lace,  to 
punish  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  for  their 
iniquity."  Isa.  xxvi.  20,  21. 

And  what  will  ye  do,  when  the  Lord 
Cometh  forth  to  punish,  if  you  are  not  re- 
ceived into  the  hiding-place  ?  What  will 
ye  do,  ye  men  of  sober  and  decent  conver- 
sation, who  have  nothing  but  an  outward 
regularity,  and  some  customary  conformity 
to  religious  worship  ?  These,  though  in 
their  place  valuable,  yet  are  no  security. 
They  are  only  the  outworks,  not  your  for- 
tification nor  your  citadel.  When  the 
righteous  Judge  "  shall  be  revealed  from 
heaven  in  flaming  fire,  to  take  vengeance 
on  them  that  obey  not  the  gospel,"  2  Thess. 
i.  7,  8 ;  these,  without  the  blood  of 
sprinkling,  will  be  but  as  a  withered  leaf 
amidst  the  inextinguishable  burning. 

What  will  ye  do,  ye  men  of  wealth  and 
large  possessions  ?  Will  riches  profit  you 
in  the  day  of  wrath  ?  Prov.  xi.  4 ;  wdl 
riches  protect  you  in  the  day  of  the  Lord's 
controversy?  Alas  !  they  will  mark  you 
out  for  a  prey,  and  serve  only  to  lure  the 
vultures.  If  riches  have  been  your  idol — 
hoarded  up  in  your  coffers,  or  lavished  out 
upon  yourselves — they  will,  when  the  day 
of  reckoning  comes,  be  like  the  garment  of 
pitch  and  brimstone  put  upon  the  criminal 
condemned  to  the  flames. 

What  will  ye  do,  ye  mighty  men  of  va- 
lour ?  If  the  Lord  turn  his  hand  upon  you, 
your  heart  shall  fail,  and  your  knees  l)e  fee- 
ble ;  your  arm  shall  lose  its  strength,  and 
j'our  sword  shall  lose  its  edge.  Your  fleets 
and  armies  "  shall  be  as  tow,"  and  the  com- 
manders of  them  "  as  a  spark  ;  and  they 
shall  both  burn  together,  and  none  shall 
quench  them,"  Isa.  i.  31.  If  you  are  not 
sheltered  and  secured  by  this  blood,  what 
will  ye  do  when  the  shout  of  the  archangel 
is  made,  and  the  trump  of  God  is  heard  ? 
Undaunted  as  you  now  seem,  you  will  then, 
in  an  agony  of  despair,  "  call  upon  the  rocks 
to  fall  upon  you,  and  mountains  to  cover 
you."  Rev.  vi.  16. 

What  will  ye  do,  ye  voluptuous  men,  and 
ye  careless  women  ?  ye  that  eat  the  lambs 
out  of  the  flock,  and  the  calves  out  of  the 
midst  of  the  stall  ?  ye  that  drink  wine  in 
bowls,  and  anoint  yourselves  with  the  chief 
ointments  ?  Ah  !  what  will  ye  do  when 
"  the  whole  land,"  for  the  universal  degener- 
acy of  its  inhabitants  for  their  contempt^  of 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 


66S 


Christ  and  neglect  of  grace,  "  shall  become 
brimstone,  and  salt  and  burning;  insomuch 
that  it  shall  not  be  sown,  nor  bear,  nor  any 
grass  grow  thereon  ?"  Deut.  xxix.  23. 
Much  more  may  1  ask,  What  will  ye  do 
when  the  heavens  shall  pass  away  with  a 
great  noise,  when  the  elements  shall  melt 
with  fervent  heat,  when  the  whole  earth, 
and  all  the  works  that  are  therein,  shall  be 
burnt  up? 

What  will  ye  do,  people  of  all  ranks  and 
conditions,  when  '•  mischief  shall  come  upon 
mischief,  and  rumour  shall  be  upon  ru- 
mour ?"  Ezek.  vii.  2ti ;  "  when  ycnn-  houses 
shall  be  laid  in  heaps,  and  your  streets  be 
made  a  place  of  graves  ?  when  your  cities, 
that  were  full  of  inhabitants,  shall  be  soli- 
tary ;  and  not  a  voice  heard  amidst  them, 
but  sighs  of  the  disconsolate,  and  groans  of 
the  dying  ?  when  your  children  shall  be 
slaughtered  in  one  place,  your  parents  in 
another;  and  the  slain  shall  lie  behind  the 
slayer,  as  the  sheaves  behind  the  reaper  in 
the  time  of  harvest?"  Jer.  ix.  22.  But 
above  all,  what  will  ye  do  when  the  great 
white  throne  is  erected  ;  when  the  earth 
and  the  heavens  flee  aw.iy  from  the  face  of 
him  that  sitteth  thereon ;  and  the  dead, 
both  small  and  great,  stand  before  God  to 
be  judged?  Without  the  blood  of  sprink- 
ling, where  can  you  be  safe  ?  how  will  you 
appear?  what  will  you  do?  Whereas,  if 
Christ  and  his  blood  are  yours,  all  is  yours. 
You  have  nothing  to  fear,  in  time  or  eter- 
nity. "  O  !  well  is  it  with  you,  and  happy 
shall  you  be-"  Cut  this  reminds  me  of  add- 
ing a  word, 

4.  By  way  of  consolation.  Possibly  yon 
may  be  ready  to  inquiie,  "  \A  hat  consola- 
tion will  this  administer,  amidst  the  presa- 
ges, or  under  the  approach  of  national  ca- 
lamities?" Very  great.  "  Fear  not,"  says 
the  Lord,  "  for  1  have  redeemed  thee," 
Isa.  xliii.  1.  Redemption  by  Christ  is  a 
preservative  from  all  terror,  and  an  antidote 
against  every  evil.  This  causes  the  serene 
breast,  and  the  lightsome  heart.  Hence 
comes  calmness  of  conscience,  "  quietness 
and  assurance  for  ever."  Therefore,  says 
the  projihct,  "  This  man  shall  be  our  peace 
vhen  the  Assyrian  shall  come  uito  our 
land."  The  blood  and  righteousness  of  our 
incarnate  Cod  shall  be  the  sovereign  sup- 
port of  our  souls,  even  when  the  enemy  in- 
vades our  teiritories,  and  preys  upon  the 
vitals  of  our  country  ;  yea,  when  he  "  treads 
upon  our  palaces,"  ]Micah  v.  b  ;  not  only 
demolishes  our  dwelling-houses,  but  lays 
our  royal  edifices  in  the  dust,  and  makes  us 
feel  all  the  grievousness  of  war. 

Further,  when  this  blood  is  sprinkled, 
sin  is  done  away,  and  God  is  appeased. 
His  promises  are  your  portion,  and  his  arm 
is  your  defence.  For  the  comfort  of  such 
people  it  is  written,  "  He  shall  deliver  thee 


in  six  troubles ;  yea,  in  seven  there  shall  no 
evil  touch  thee.  Jn  famine  he  shall  redeem 
thee  from  death,  and  in  war  from  the  power 
of  the  sword.  Thou  shalt  be  hid  from  the 
scourge  of  the  tongue  ;  neither  shalt  thou 
be  afraid  of  destruction  when  it  cometh," 
Job  V.  19 — 21.  In  the  hands  of  this  re- 
conciled and  faithful  Creator,  this  unwear- 
ied and  almighty  Deliverer,  how  siifely  may 
you  deposit  yourselves  and  your  families, 
your  possessions  and  your  all  ! 

Be  not  then  discouraged,  ye  followers  of 
Christ,  though  troublous  times  should  come. 
All  creatures,  and  all  events,  are  under  the 
control  of  your  heavenly  Father.  If  he  has 
any  further  occasion  lor  your  service,  or 
sees  it  conducive  to  your  good,  he  will  pre- 
serve you  amidst  the  greatest  dangers. 
He  can  draw  a  curtain  of  concealment  over 
you,  as  he  did  over  David  in  the  cave,  1 
8am.  xxiv.  8.  He  can  plant  an  invisible 
guard  around  you,  as  he  did  around  Elisha 
in  Dothan,  2  Kings  vi.  17,  He  can  turn 
the  hearts  of  your  adversaries,  and  make 
even  the  enemy  and  the  avenger  to  be  at 
peace  with  you,  as  he  did  in  the  case  of  Ja- 
cob and  his  enraged  brother  Esau.  Or,  if 
you  fall  in  the  common  calamity,  "  your 
latter  end  shall  be  peace  ;"  your  inheritance 
is  inalienable,  and  "  your  joy  no  man  tak- 
eth  from  you."  Your  best  things,  your 
eternal  interests,  are  secure,  inviolably  se- 
cure, being  "hid  with  Christ  in  God," 
Col.  iii.  3. 

Happy,  unspeakably  blessed  and  happy 
the  people  on  whom  this  blood  is  sprinkled. 
]f  vindictive  visitations  come  upon  the 
land,  this  may  screen  and  protect  their  per- 
sons ;  like  the  mai  k,  which  the  man  cloth- 
ed with  Imen  set  on  the  forehead  of  God's 
chosen  ones,  Ezek.  xi.  G ;  or  like  the 
line  of  scarlet  thread,  which  Rahab  the 
harlot  bound  to  the  window  of  her  house. 
Josh.  ii.  18,  19.  However,  by  this  blood 
of  reconciliation,  all  afflictions  shall  be  dis- 
armed, and  every  evil  unstrung.  Nay, 
"  all  things,"  not  in  prosperity  only,  but  in 
adversity  likewise,  "shall  work  together  for 
good."*  Death,  even  death  is  vanquished 
for  them,  and  become  their  gain  ;  and  the 
last  judgment  is  no  longer  the  object  of 
their  dread,  but  their  unspeakable  privilege. 
Being  justified  by  this  blood,  they  may  even 
"  glory  m  tribulation  and  rejoice  in  hope," 


*  Uom.  viii.28.  This  seems  to  be  the  meaning  of 
the  Holy  Cihost,  jn  the  passaj^e  lately  (luoted  from 
.Job;— In  six,  ni  manifold  ami  various  troubles,  Cocl 
shalUkliver  thee.  Or,  if  he  sutler  thee  to  be  involv- 
ed in  seven,  there  shall  no  evil,  no  penal  evil,  touch 
thee.  His  gracious  presence  shall  be  more  than  de- 
liverance. Thou  shalt  not  feel  anguish,  but  enjoy 
comfort ;  thou  shalt  not  suffer  harm,  but  receive  be- 
nefit. Though  the  tianies  of  tribulation  kindle  all 
around,  they  shall  not  consume  thee:  but  (like  the 
fire  which  surrounded  the  three  Hebrew  confessors) 
shall  only  loose  thy  bonds,  and  set  thee  free  ;  set  thy 
allcctiDiis  free  from  a  troublesome  world,  or  set  thy 
:,uul  fret  fiom  a  prison  of  clay. 


664 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 


in  sure  and  steadfast  "  hope  of  the   glory 
of  God,"  Rom.  v.  1—3. 

Will  ye  not  then,  brethren,  ardently  join 
with  me,  while  I  lift  my  voice  to  God  in 
the  heavens,  and  say,  "  Awake,  awake,  O 
arm  of  the  Lord  ;  let  this  be  a  day  of  thy 
power,  and  a  day  of  our  redemption  ?  Be- 
hold, O  God  our  Saviour,  and  look  upon 
thy  various  congregations.  See  what  a 
gathering  of  the    people   there   is   in  thy 


courts  ;  let  there  be  as  great  a  gathering  of 
souls  to  thy  blessed  self.  Fulfil  the  pro- 
phecy, almighty  Shiloh  !  Let  sinners,  won 
i)y  the  discovery  of  thy  grace,  fly  unto  thee 
as  a  cloud  ;  and  take  shelter  in  thy  wounds 
as  the  doves  in  their  windows  ;  that  they 
may  rest  in  the  day  of  trouble  ;  and,  when 
time  shall  be  no  more,  may  enter  into  that 
everlasting  rest  which  remaineth  for  the 
people  of  God."     Amen. 


SERMON   VI  I. 


THE  WAY  OF  HOLINESS. 


Ezek.  xvlii.  27.—"  When  the  wicked  man  turneth  away  from  his  wickednes.;  that  he  hatn  committed,  and 
doth  that  which  is  lawful  and  right,  he  shall  save  his  soul  alive." 


Many  of  my  hearers,  I  observe,  are  hus-' 
bandmen ;  and  the  season,  if  I  mistake; 
not,  is  the  season  of  seed-time.  I  will 
suppose  a  person  unskilled  in  your  busi- 
ness, brethren,  taking  notice  of  your  work. 
Perhaps  he  goes  home,  and  says,  "  What 
strange  inconsiderate  creatures  have  I  seen 
in  the  field  !  I  saw  them,  instead  of  laying 
up  their  corn  in  the  garner,  throwing  it 
away  by  handfuls :  Nay,  they  even  buried 
it  in  the  ground,  and  left  it  to  putrefy  im- 
der  the  clods.  Is  this  the  way  to  improve 
their  stock,  and  increase  their  substance  ? 
is  this  the  way  to  get  gain,  and  provide  for 
their  families  ?" 

Should  any  one  make  such  a  rellection  on 
your  conduct,  you  have  an  answer  ready. 
The  same  answer,  only  with  an  alteration 
of  circumstances,  will  be  equally  proper  for 
your  preacher.  It  is  true,  his  usual  sub- 
jects are,  the  absolutely  free  grace  of  God, 
and  the  immensely  rich  merits  of  Christ ; 
the  infinite  atonement  and  everlasting 
righteousness  of  the  Redeemer.  But  be- 
cause he  generally  enlarges  upon  these 
doctrines,  is  he  therefore  throwing  away 
his  words  ?  does  he  neglect  the  cause,  or 
disregard  the  interests  of  holiness  ?  Far 
from  it.  He  is  sowing  the  seed  of  vital 
holiness  ;  without  which  seed,  holiness  will 
never  flourish  in  your  hearts,  will  never 
bring  forth  fruit  in  your  lives  ;  any  more 
than  your  ploughed  lands  would  produce  a 
crop  of  corn,  without  receiving  the  appoint- 
ed grain.  It  is  "  through  the  knowledge 
of  our  adorable  Saviour,  as  calling  us  to 
glory  and  virtue,  that  we  have  all  things 
pertaining  unto  life  and  godliness,"  2  Pet. 
i.  3 ;  unto  the  enjoyment  of  life  eternal, 
and  the  practice  of  true  godliness. 

To  convince  you    that  this   is  my  aim,  I 
have  chosen  a  text  full  to  the  purpose,  and 


not  unsuitable  to  the  occasion  of  our  pre- 
sent assembly.  "  When  the  wicked  inan 
turneth  away  from  his  wickedness  that  he 
hath  committed,  and  doth  that  which  is  law- 
ful and  right,  he  shall  save  his  soul  alive." 
The  words  naturally  divide  themselves 
into  the  following  particulars  : — 

I.  What  the  wicked  man  should  turn 
from — wickedness. 

II.  What  he  should  turn  to — to  do  that 
which  is  latoful  and  right. 

III.  What  will  be  the  effect  of  such 
turning — lie  shall  save  his  soul  alive. 

May  Christ  Jesus,  the  Head  of  his 
church,  and  the  wonderful  Counsellor,  ena- 
ble us  to  open  these  truths  ;  to  add  a  word 
of  lively  application  ;  and  to  receive  godly 
edifying  from  the  whole  ! 

I.  What  the  wicked  man  should  turn 
from — wickedness.  Here,  perhaps,  you 
expect,  that  I  should  mention  several  sorts 
of  wickedness  ;  should  display  the  detesta- 
ble nature  and  destructive  consequences  of 
each  ;  and  deter  you,  by  such  considerations, 
from  the  commission  of  them  all  ;  deter 
you  from  lying  and  defrauding,  from  curs- 
ing and  swearing,  from  drunkenness  and  un- 
cleanness,  from  a  spiteful  temper  and  a 
backbiting  tongue.  These  are  horrid  evils. 
On  account  of  these  the  land  mourns. 
These  bring  the  vengeance  of  God  on  a 
person,  and  on  a  people,  Col.  iii.  6.  If  I 
could  speak  in  thunder,  I  could  never  in- 
veigh too  loudly  against  these  vices.  "  Ye 
that  go  on  in  such  iniquities,  ye  are  scat- 
tering brimstone  upon  your  habitations," 
Job  xviii.  15;  ye  are  heaping  up  wrath 
against  the  day  of  wrath,  Rom.  ii.  5. 
"How  can  ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell?' 
Matth.  xxiii.  33. 

But  let  me  forbear  invectives.  Let  me 
reason  with  you  in  the  spirit  of  mildness. 


THE  WAY  OF  HOLINESS. 


665 


I  will  suppose  you  possessed  of  a  ple.isant 
garden.  In  some  favourite  bed  many  weeds 
spring  up,  alluring  to  the  eye,  luit  full  of 
deadly  poison.  Will  you  order  your  gar- 
dener to  crop  off  the  leaves,  or  to  pluck 
up  the  roots  ?  To  pluck  up  the  roots, 
most  certainly.  Because,  if  he  does  the 
former  only,  it  will  avail  hut  little;  it  will 
be  no  better  than  labour  lost;  whereas,  if 
he  does  the  latter,  he  will  edcctuaily  rid 
your  ground  of  the  pernicious  encumbrance. 
Thus  would  I  act.  Wickedness  is  this 
pernicious  weed.  It  is  full  of  deadly  poi- 
son ;  it  pollutes  your  souls,  and  will  be  the 
bane  of  your  happines'^.  I  would  not 
therefore  be  content  with  using  the  jiruniiig 
knife,  and  cutting  off  the  shoots,  but  I 
would  take  the  spade,  and  level  my  blow  at 
the  root. 

I  would  fain  have  you  turn,  not  partially 
and  superficially,  but  thoroughly  and  habi- 
tually :  not  from  some  only,  but  from  all 
wickedness  ;  and  not  barely  from  the  prac- 
tice, but  even  from  the  love  of  it,  and  any 
fondness  for  it.  This  will  never  he  accom- 
plished, milcss  you  turn 

From  a  tlmwjhikss  ) 

From  a  prm/trless    \      state. 

From  an  insamhle  \ 

1.  From  a  thoughtless  state.  You  are 
made  for  eternity  ;  you  are  immortal  be- 
ings. You  must  dwell  either  with  God  in 
heaven,  or  with  devils  in  hell  ;  and  that  to 
endless,  endless  ages.  You  know  not  how 
soon  you  may  be  summoned  into  the  invisi- 
ble and  eternal  world  ;  the  following  night, 
for  aught  you  can  tell  ;  or  before  the  pre- 
sent hour  is  expired.  J)o  you  serious!) 
consider  to  which  of  these  everlasting  abodes 
you  are  apjiroaching?  for  which  of  these 
unchangeable  conditions  you  are  meet  ? 

"  Except  a  man  be  born  again,"  says  our 
Lord,  "  he  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,"  John  iii.  3.  This  is  the  fixed 
determination  of  the  righteous  Judge.  You 
all  hope  for  heaven  ;  and  I  hiunbly  beseech 
the  Lord  that  you  niay  nut  be  disappoint- 
ed of  your  hope-  But  do  you  diligeistly  in- 
quire, whether  you  have  exj)erienced  this 
new  birth  ?  Is  there  a  spiritual  change 
wrought  in  your  souls?  are  your  affections 
taken  off  from  vanity,  and  fixed  on  the  in- 
finitely amiable  (ji<nl  ?  is  your  memory  fill- 
ed with  the  truthf  of  the  gospel  ?  and  are 
your  desires  rising  to  things  above?  To  ex- 
pect the  blessedne.-s  of  heaven,  and  have 
no  concern  about  this  renewal  of  your  na- 
ture, is  to  contemn  the  counsels  of  Christ, 
:uid  to  trifle  with  his  unalteiable  decree. 

"  Without  holnicss  no  man  shall  see  the 
Lord,"  lleb.  xii.  It.  This  is  the  standing 
rule  tor  our  i)resent  conduct,  and  indispen- 
sably nec(;ssary  for  our  future  happiness. 
\  ou  may  be  civil  and  decent  in  your  be- 
haviour ;  you  may  attend  the  plaL'e  of  divine 


worship,  and  pass  for  reputable  persons: 
yet,  unless  you  are  holy  in  your  hearts,  and 
holy  in  your  conversation,  you  catuiot  enter 
into  God's  blissful  presence.  To  be  holy 
is  to  put  on  Christ,  Rom.  xiii.  14;  to  re- 
sendile  Christ,  in  your  spirit  and  carriage, 
as  one  man  resembles  another  when  he 
puts  on  his  dress,  or  imitates  his  manners. 
Oo  you  look  to  Christ  as  your  pattern, 
follow  Christ  as  yourguide,  and  in  the  gen- 
eral course  of  yoiu-  life,  walk  as  Christ 
walked  ■'  l*ei  naps  you  have  never  so  much 
as  aimed  at  this;  never  so  much  as  serious- 
ly considered  eternity,  regeneration,  and  a 
conformity  to  Christ :  These  things  are  sel- 
dom, if  ever,  in  your  thoughts  :  Then  be  as- 
sured you  are  far  from  holiness  ;  you  are 
not  turned  from  your  evil  way  ;  no,  nor  so 
much  as  beginning  to  tuin. 

Say  not,  "  This  duty  of  serious  consider- 
ation is  a  slight  matter.  If  I  had  been 
guilty  of  injustice  or  perjury  ;  if  I  had  com- 
mitted adultery  or  murder,  these  indeed 
were  heinous  crimes  ;  whereas,  the  omission 
which  you  have  insisted  on,  is  but  a  small 
offence."  Small  offence  !  Presume  not  to 
think  so.  However  such  guilt  may  appear 
little  in  your  view,  or  sit  easy  upon  your 
conscience,  it  is  heinous  enough  to  make 
heaven  and  earth  amazed.  For  "  thus  saith 
the  Lord,  Hear,  O  heavens,  and  give  ear, 
O  earth  !  I  have  nourished  aiul  brought  up 
children,  and  they  have  rebelled  against  me. 
The  ox  kuoweth  his  owner,  and  the  ass  his 
master's  crib ;  but  Israel  doth  not  know, 
my  ])coi)le  doth  not  consider,"  Isa.  i.  2,  3. 
To  say  the  truth,  an  inconsiderate  careless 
life  is  an  unintermitted  course  of  sin  ;  it  is 
one  continued  act  of  rebellion  against  God. 
It  opjjoses  his  compassionate  wish,  "  O 
that  they  were  wise  !  that  they  understood 
this  !  that  they  would  consider  their  latter 
end  !"  Ueut.  xxxii.  29.  It  disobeys  his  jx). 
sitive  command,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,"  the  supreme  ruler  of  the  world, 
"  Consider  your  way-:,"  Hag.  i.  j,  7.  It 
defeats  the  design  of  !iis  holy  word,  and 
would  make  the  blood  of  his  Son  to  be  of 
none  effect. 

2.  Turn  from  a  prayerless  state.  Alas! 
how  many  of  those  whom  we  call  Christians 
are  strangers  to  [iraycr  !  How  many  ser- 
vants rise  to  their  work,  and  never  beiid  a 
knee  before  their  Master  in  heaven  !  How 
numy  masters  si;t  their  servants  an  ungod- 
ly example  !  enter  upon  the  affairs  of  the  day, 
without  imploriiig  the  (5od  of  all  grace 
either  to  prosper  their  business  or  to  sancti- 
ty their  souls  !  How  many  parents  know 
not  what  it  is  to  make  earnest  supplications 
for  the  conversion  and  salvation  of  their 
children  !  and  how  many  children  are  as 
ignorant  of  the  nature,  the  necessity,  the 
advantages  of  prayer,  "as  the  wild  ass's 
cult !"  Job  xi.  Vl. 


em 


THE  WAY  OF  HOLINESS. 


Shall  I  reckon  these  good  people  ?  are 
these  turned  to  their  God  ?  No  ;  they  are 
despisers  of  the  Most  High  ;  they  cast  con- 
tempt upon  his  Majesty.  The  language  of 
their  practice  is,  "  Depart  from  us  :  Omni- 
potent as  thou  art, we  have  no  need  of  thee  ; 
no  need  of  thy  Spirit  to  make  intercession 
in  us  ;  no  need  of  thy  Son  to  make  inter- 
cession for  us."  Most  justly,  therefore,  is 
it  reckoned  by  Eliphaz  as  part  of  a  wicked 
and  alfandoned  character,  "  Thou  restrainest 
prayer  before  God,"  Job  xv.  4.  Nay,  it  is 
mentioned  by  the  Psalmist  as  the  finishing 
part,  that  which  seals  up  the  soul  under  the 
dominion  of  iniquity,  and  shuts  out  all 
reasonable  hope  of  a  reformation  :  "  They 
are  corrupt ;  they  do  abominable  works  ;" 
and  there  is  no  prospect  of  their  doing 
otherwise,  since  "  they  call  not  upon  the 
Lord,"  Psalm  xiv,  4- 

Religious,  yet  neglect  prayer!  Impossi- 
ble. Can  a  man  live  without  food  ?  can  he 
breathe  without  air?  No  more  can  you 
withstand  temptation,  or  exerci.se  godliness, 
unless  you  "  watch  unto  prayer,"  Eph.  vi. 
18.  The  neglect  of  prayer  is  not  only  sin- 
ful in  itself,  but  the  sure  sign  of  an  un- 
sanctified  heart,  and  the  wide  inlet  to  every 
unrighteous  practice.  "  Shew  me  a  pray- 
erless  person,"  said  one,  "  and  I  will  show 
you  a  graceless  person."  Turn  then,  sin- 
ners, turn  without  delay  to  a  habit  of  pray- 
er ;  of  secret,  serious,  earnest  prayer ; 
otherwise  you  cannot  expect  that  the  wrath 
of  God  should  be  turned  away  from  yon. 
No  ;  when  he  whets  his  glittering  sword, 
and  his  hand  takes  hold  on  judgment,  you 
are  the  persons  that  cause  the  indignation  ; 
you  are  the  persons  who  have  reason  to  trem- 
ble at  the  stroke:  For  thus  it  is  written  in  that 
venerable  book, whichisati'anscriptof  the  di- 
vine will,  and  the  rule  of  the  divine  procedure : 
*'  Pour  out  thy  fury  upon  the  heathen,  that 
know  thee  not ;  pour  out  thy  fury  upon  the 
families  that  call  not  on  thy  name,"  Jer.  x.  tld- 

3.  Turn  from  your  insensible  state.  Be 
sensible  of  your  guilt,  your  misery,  your 
ruin.  Thoughtless  and  prayerless  people, 
you  are  sinners  before  the  God  of  heaven  ; 
you  are  the  children  of  his  wrath  ;  you  are 
the  objects  of  his  vengeance ;  condemned 
and  accursed  by  his  holy  word.  O  !  may 
the  Lord  of  all  power  rend  the  veil  from 
your  imderstandings,  and  show  you  your 
perilous,  your  dreadfully  perilous  condition. 

If,  while  I  am  speaking,  the  earth  shall 
reel  to  and  fro,  and  be  in  strong  convulsions 
under  your  feet  ;  if  it  should  open  its  hor- 
rid jaws,  and  gape  frightfully  wicie  to  devour 
you  ;  not  one  in  the  assembly  but  would  be 
greatly  alarmed.  How  then  can  you  be 
careless  and  UTiconcerned,  when  hell  from 
beneath  is  opening  her  mouth  to  swallow 
you  up  in  endless  perdition  !  If  this  build- 
ing was  rocking  over  your  heads,  and  totter- 


ing on  every  side ;  if  the  beams  were  burst- 
ing, and  the  walls  cleaving  ;  you  would  be 
struck  with  astonishment  and  horror.  And 
how  is  it  that  you  are  under  no  apprehensions, 
when  the  indignation  of  an  almighty  God 
is  ready  to  fall  upon  you  ?  which,  far  more 
insupportable  than  the  fall  of  loaded  roofs, 
or  ponderous  millstones,  must  even  grind 
you  to  powder.  If  the  French  were  landed, 
and  an  army  of  desperate  Papists  ravaging 
the  nation  ;  if  you  were  pursued,  or  sur- 
rounded, by  those  barbarous  enemies  of 
your  religion  and  country;  if  their  swords, 
reeking  with  British  blood,  were  now  at 
your  throats  ;  you  would  tremble  for  your 
lives.  And  will  you  not  feel  some  concern 
for  your  souls,  when  the  sword  of  Omnipo- 
tence is  sharpened  to  cut  you  in  pieces  ? 
when,  for  aught  you  know,  it  may  be  al- 
ready unsheathed ;  may  have  received  a 
commission  to  give  the  fatal  blow ;  and, 
before  another  hour  passes,  may  actually 
strike  ?  If  the  late  distemper  among  the 
cattle  should  turn  to  a  plague  among  men  ; 
if  it  should  sweep  away  thousands  and  ten 
thousands  to  an  untimely  grave  ;  if  you 
should  see  multitudes  of  your  neighbours 
sickening,  drooping,  dying  on  every  side ; 
certainly  you  would  be  terrified.  How  then 
can  you  remain  unimpressed,  when  the  curse 
(Gal.  iii.  10,)  of  God  is  approaching  you?, 
when  the  curse  of  God  is  hovering  over  you  ? 
when  the  curse  of  God  is  ready  to  be  poured 
out  upon  you  ;  and  turn  all  your  delights  un- 
to weepitig,  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth  ? 

Behold  then,  sinners,  inconsiderate  and 
insensible  sinners,  you  are  this  day  implead- 
ed at  God's  bar ;  you  are  found  guilty  be- 
fore the  Judge  of  the  world ;  you  are  upon 
the  very  brink  of  everlasting  destruction. 
Not  the  earth,  but  hell,  is  opening  her 
mouth  to  devour  you  ;  not  the  stones  and 
timber  of  your  houses,  but  the  vengeance  of 
the  Most  High,  is  rushing  down  upon  you. 
The  suord,  not  of  an  enraged  adversary, 
but  of  God's  most  tremendous  displeasure 
is  drawn,  perhaps  stretched  out  to  destroy 
you  :  the  pestilence,  or  what  is  infinitely 
more  to  be  dreaded  than  the  pestilence  that 
ualketh  in  darkness,  the  curse  of  God  is 
ready  to  break  forth  upon  you.  And  will 
not  these  terrors  awaken  you,  alarm  you, 
persuade  you?  2  Cor.  v.  11.  Thou  God 
of  the  world,  and  God  of  our  souls,  let  not 
thy  judgments  and  thy  threatenings  go  forth 
in  vain  ! 

I  hope  some  of  you  are  inclined  to  ask, 
How  or  to  what  should  we  be  persuaded  ? 
If  so,  my  second  particular  will  suggest  the 
proper  answer. 

II.  What  the  wicked  man  should  turn  to? 
"To  do  that  wh'ch  is  lawful  and  right;"  tore- 
pent  of  sin,  and  love  God;  to  be  pure  in 
heart,  and  holy  in  all  manner  of  conversa- 
tion.    This  is  implied  in  the  exhortation 


THE  WAY  OF  HOLINESS 


667 


of  the  text ;  this  is  the  indispensable  duty 
of  ail  nnen  ;  and  to  promote  this  is  the  coii- 
tiniml  aim  of  our  ministry. 

But  you  are  guilty,  ruined,  impotent  crea 


all  his  exemplary  actio. is  ;  these,  iill  these, 
in  their  utmost  perfection,  are  not  only  for 
the  imitation,  but  for  the  jusliiicatioii  also 
of  such  sinners  as  you  and  I.      "  His  name 


tures.      Guilty,  and  can  you,   under  a  load  i  is  Jehovah,"  which   speaks  incomprehensi- 

of  trespasses,  arise  and  do  your  Lord's  will  ? 

Ruined,  and  can  you,  amidst  such  discour- 

ii'X'ug  circumstances,  have  any  heart  to  set 

al)out  the  work  of  reformation  ?   Impotent, 

and    can    you,  under   the    most   deploralile 

\veal\iie>s,   perform  the  most  diilicult  of  all 

services?  No;  you  must   first  be  relieved 


ble  grandeur  in  him  ;  "  Jeliovah  our  riglit- 
eousness,"  Jer.  xxiii.  6.  which  sj)eak;s  un- 
utterable comfort  to  us.  In  this  righteous- 
ness wc  may  be  fully  accepted  and  entitled 
to  life  eternal.  Of  tliis  we  may  make  our 
boast ,  and  say,  "  Ir.  the  Lord  have  I  right- 
eousness,"   Isa.  xlv.  2+. — 1,  a  transgressor, 


and  enabled,  before  you  can  be  sufficient  for  have  a  real  righteousness  ;  I,  a  defective 
these  things  Like  the  woman  bowed  down  creature,  have  a  consummate  righteousness ; 
with  a  spirit  of  infirmity,  or  like  the  impo-!  I,  a  frail,  relajising  Christian,  have  an  in- 
tent man  at  the  pool  of  Bethesda,  you  niustj  variable  and  everlasting  righteousness.  O 
receive  restoration  and  strength  from  God  vvhat  a  treasure  is  this  !  what  an  unspeaka- 
your  Saviour.  Turn  then  t-o  Christ,  who!  ble  gift  is  this  !  Is  there  a  cordial  that  can 
says  by  his  prophet,  "  O  Israel,  thou  hast;  revive  our  spirits,  is  there  a  motive  that  can 
destroyed  thyself,  but  in  me  is  thy  help,'' I  animate  us  to  duty,  likejustification  through 


Hos.  xiii.  9. 

If  you  should  inipiire.  What  shall  I  find 
in  Christ  ?  All  that  you  can  want ;  all  that 
you  can  wish  ;  incomparably  more  than  I 
am  able  to  express.  For  "  it  hath  pleased 
the  Father,  that  in  Christ  should  all  fulness 
dwell."  Col.  i.  19. 

Because  you  are  guilty,  and  have  a  bur- 
den of  inicjuity  on  your  souls,  he  is  "  the 
Lamb  of  (iod,  that  takelh  away  the  sin  of 
the  world,"  John  i.  29  ;  a  lamb  of  God's 
own  appointing;  a  lamb  of  infinite  excel- 
lence and  dignity  ;  to  whom  nothing  is 
equal,  nothing  comparable.  This  Lamb  of 
God  has  shed  his  blood  for  sinners  ;  has 
suffered  death  for  sinners  ;  yea,  has  died  in 
their  stead,  and  endured  all  that  vengeance 
which  they  have  deserved.  In  this  most 
wonderful  aiul  perfect  marmer  has  he  ob- 
tained their  pardon  !  Pardon,  not  of  some 
only,  but  of  all  sins  ;  be  they  ever  so  numer- 
ous, or  ever  so  heinous,  it  maketh  no  differ- 
ence with  him.  An  infinite  Saviour  taketh 
away  millions,  unnumbered  millions,  of  the 
most  abominable  iniquities,  with  as  much 
ease  as  he  expiates  a  single  olfence  or  the 
smallest  fault.  "  He  blotteth  out  trans- 
gressions," aggravated  transgressions,  innu- 
merable transgressions,  "asacloud,"  Isa.  xliv. 
'22;  as  easily  and  as  completely  as  the  wind 
swee|)s  away  a  floating  cloud  fiom  the  face 
of  the  sky.  Delivered  from  this  load  of 
guilt,  you  will  be  fitted  to  walk  in  the  -.vay 
of  (rod's  commandments,  "andiiot  be  weary;" 
yea,  "to  run,  and  not  faint,"  Isa.  xl.  31. 

Because  you  are  ruined,  and  have  no- 
thing that  may  lecommend  you  to  the  most 
high  God,  Christ  has  brought  in  a  righte- 
ousness, a  complete  righteousness,  a  divine 
righteousness.  Consider  the  unsjiotted  pu- 
rity of  his  nature,  and  the  unsinning  obedi- 
ence of  his  life  ;  '-onsider  his  fervent  cha- 
rity to  man,  and  his  patient  resij^nation  to 
God  ;  consider  all  his   exalted  virtues,  and 


Immanuel's  righteousness  ?  Blessed  Lord  ! 
this  makes  thy  yoke  easy,  and  thy  burden 
light. 

Because  you  are  weak  and  disabled, 
Christ  has  "  the  residue"  of  the  Spirit, 
Mai.  ii.  15;  the  "fulness"  of  the  Spirit, 
Col.  i.  19;  the  "seven  spirits"  of  God 
are  before  his  throne,  Rev.  i.  4.  The  Ho- 
ly Ghost  ill  all  his  operations,  and  with  all 
his  graces,  Christ  sends  to  whomsoever  he 
pleases,  John  xvi.  7.  He  gave  this  ines- 
timable blessing  to  Saul  the  jiersecutor  and 
blasjihemer  ;  he  gave  this  inestimable  bless- 
ing to  many  of  his  murderers  and  crucifi- 
ers  :  he  still  confers  the  heavenly  gift  on 
his  enemies;  "yea,  on  the  rebelliou.s  also," 
Psal.  Ixviii.  18.  And  "  the  promise,"  the 
free  gracious  promise,  "  is  to  you,  and  to 
your  children,  and  to  ail  that  are  afar  off, 
even  as  many  as  the  Lord  our  God,"  by 
the  preaching  of  his  gospel,  "shall  call," 
Acts  ii.  39. 

How  saluta.rv  and  beneficial  are  the  ef- 
fects of  thi:  ^ift,  our  Lord  himself,  who 
best  knew,  has  admirably  shewn.  "  He 
that  beliereth  on  me,  out  of  his  belly  shall 
How  rivers  of  living  water,"  John  vii.  38. 
This  spake  he  of  the  Spirit,  which  every 
one  that  turns  to  him,  and  believes  on  him, 
shall  receive.  Observe  some  beautiful  and 
copious  river,  how  it  exhilarates  the  couii- 
tiy,  and  fructifies  tlie  soil  through  which  it 
passes  ;  bestows  a  tiiousaiid  conveniences, 
and  gives  birth  to  a  thousand  delights, 
wherever  it  takes  its  winding  course  :  So 
the  Comforter,  dwelling  in  the  heart,  gives 
such  charming  views  of  (^,hrist  and  his  un- 
searchable riches,  as  gladden  the  conscience 
and  make  us  truly  liajjpy.  Hence,  as  from 
an  inexhaustible  source,  true  holiness  flows, 
and  every  spiritual  good.  This  disposes 
us  to  love  our  neighbour;  this  teaches  us 
to  be  meek  in  spirit;  and  this  will  raise 
out  desires  far  above  earthlv,  sensual,  t;an- 


60)8 


'ihE  WAY  OF  HOLINESS. 


sitory  things,  even  as  David's  thoughts  were  |  heaven  inform  us,   that  we   must  first    see 


raised  far  at)ove  the  shepherd's  scrip,  when 
lie  sat  exalted  on  the  throne  of  Israel. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  divine  Spi- 
rit, you  will  say,  "  Christ  has  taken  away 
the  execrable  filth  of  my  sins  ;  and  shall  I 
wallow   in    the   mire     of   iniquity    again? 


his  love  ;  his  infinitely  free,  and  infinitely 
tender  love  towards  us  ;  his  love  not  im- 
puting any  sin  to  our  souls,  but  laying  all 
our  iniquities  upon  his  own  Son.  Then 
shall  "  we  love  him,"  when  we  perceive  and 
know  that  "  he  has,   in   this   most   divinely 


Christ  has  delivered  me   from  the  pit  of  \  gracious  manner,  regarded,  loved,  blessed 
everlasting  destruction  ;    and  shall    I  leap 


into  tho^e  unquenchable  flames,  from 
which,  as  a  brand,  I  have  been  snatched  ? 
In  my  adorable  Redeemer  I  have  a  perfect 
righteousness,  and  am  rompletely  justified  ; 
and  shall  I  not  endeavour  to  walk  worthy 
of  such  favours  ;  to  shew  my  gratitude  for 
such  beneficence,  by  bringing  forth  the 
fruits  of  righteousness  in  all  my  conversa- 
tion ?" 

Yes,  brethren ;  when  you  are  turned  to 
Christ,  to  receive  his  atonement,  to  rely  on 
his  righteousness,  to  be  filled  with  his  Spi- 
rit, it  will  be  with  your  soul  as  it  is  with 
the  earth  when  it  is  turned  to  the  sun. 
The  earth,  you  see,  is  now  barren  and  un- 
fruitful, because  it  has  been  very  much  with- 
drawn from  the  enlivening  beams  of  the  sun. 
Ere  long  it  will  be  re|)laced  under  the  full 
influence  of  tliat  fountain  of  light  and  heat. 
Then  what  a  change  will  take  place  !  how 
will  the  flowers  appear  on  the  ground  !  how 
will  the  leaves  adorn  the  trees  !  how  will 
the  singing  of  birds  be  heard  in  our  land  ! 
So  shall  holiness  and  a  heavenU-  fcmricr  be 
produced  in  your  souls  ;  so  shall  obedience, 
witli  all  the  truils  of  godliness,  flourish  in 
your  lives  ;  when  this  Sun  of  righteousness 
matufests  himself  in  your  hearts,  makes 
you  partakers  of  his  "salvation,  and  thus 
arises  upon  you  with  "healing  in  his  wings," 
Mai.  iv.  2. 

Should  any  one  douht,  whether  .this  is 
the  way  to  do   that  which   is   lawful   and 


Would  we  be  pure  in  heart?  The  Lord 
"  purifieth  the  heart  by  faith,"  Acts  xv.  9  ; 
faith  in  Christ,  as  shedding  his  most  preci- 
ous blood,  as  giving  liis  most  glorious  per- 
son for  our  ransom  ;  and,  by  his  one  oblation, 
"  finishing  our  transgression  ;  making  recon- 
ciliation for  our  iniquity  ;"  yea,  "  perfecting 
us  for  ever  ;"  insomuch  that  we  may  boldly 
and  assuredly  say,  "  Through  this  grace  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  we  shall  be  saved." 
He  that  hath  this  faith  and  this  hope,  "pu- 
rifieth even  as  he  is  pure." 

Would  we  "renounce  all  ungodliness?" 
would  we  "  live  soberly,  righteously,  and 
godly?"  Tit.  ii.  1'2.  By  grace  we  must  be 
enabled  ;  even  that  grace  which  brings  sal 
vation,  a  finished  and  free  salvation,  to  sin- 
ners. That  grace  appearing  in  the  heart, 
and  appropriated  by  faith,  is  the  sure,  the 
effectual  means  of  true  sanctification ;  the 
sure,  the  effectual  motive  to  willing  obedi- 
ence. Therefore  our  Lord  says,  "  He  that 
eateth  me,  even  he  shall  live  by  rne."  John 
vi.  37.  "  He  that  eateth  me,"  that  receiv- 
eth  my  righteousness  and  redemption  ;  that 
maketh  a  daily  use  of  me  and  my  benefits 
for  the  refreshment  and  health  of  his  soul, 
as  people  make  a  daily  use  of  their  necessa- 
ry food  for  the  nourishment  and  support  of 
their  bodies  :  "  even  he  shall  live  by  me;" 
he  shall  live  to  God  in  real  holiness  here, 
and  live  with  God  in  everlasting  glory  here- 
after.      This   method    will   strengthen   and 


right,  I  ask.  Is  it  not  a  pleasing  way  ?  such  |  prepare  us  for  discharging  all  the  duties  of 
as  we  should  wish  for ;  such  as   we  should' a  Christian  life,  as   bread   strengthens   and 


prefer  above  all  others  ;  and  such  as  will 
render  our  Lord's  service  perfect  freedom  ? 
Is  it  not  a  ration.d  way  ?  apparently  adapt- 
ed to  engage  the  heart,  to  strengthen  the 
hand,  and  thereby  to  fit  the  whole  man  for 
every  good  work  ? 

Besides,  is  it  not  the  way  appointed  by 
God  ?  Would  we  "  earnestly  repent,  and 
be  heartily  sorry  for  all  our  misdoings  ?" 
The  wisdom  of  God  assures  us,  this  sor- 
row must  arise  from  believing  views  of 
Christ ;  from  "  looking  unto  him  whom 
we  have  pierced,"  Zech  xii.  10;  looking 
unto  him  as  wounded  for  our  transgres- 
sions, and  bruised  for  our  iniquities.  This, 
if  any  thing,  will  incline  us  to  be  afflicted, 
and  mourn  and  weep  for  all  our  abomina- 
tions. Thus,  and  thus  oidy,  shall  we  e.\- 
perience  that  "godly  sorrow,  which  work- 
eth  repentance  not  to  be  repented  of." 

Would  we  love  God?    The  oracles  of 


prepares  the  labourer  for  despatching  the 
business  of  his  toilsome  calling.  Whereas, 
without  using  this  sovereign  expedient,  we 
shall  be  as  incapable  of  exercising  ourselves 
unto  godliness,  as  the  hireling,  deprived  of 
his  usual  meals,  would  be  incapable  of  per- 
forming his  daily  task. 

Upon  the  whole,  brethren,  we  do  not 
urge  you  to  make  brick  without  straw  ;  we 
do  not  call  upon  you  to  arise  and  work, 
without  showing  you  from  whence  your 
ability  and  vigour  are  to  proceed.  Some, 
perhaps,  might  exhort  you  to  all  holy  obe- 
dience ;  but,  neglectina;  these  most  necessa- 
ry directions,  their  exhortations  would  be 
comfortless  and  insignificant ;  because  you 
might  fetch  a  sigh,  and  may  answer,  "  All 
this  we  would  gladly  do,  but,  alas !  we  are 
not  able."  Whereas,  here  is  grace  sufficient 
for  you  in  Christ.  Whatever  hinders  you, 
Christ  removes  ;  whatever  you  want,  Christ 


THE  WAY  OF  HOLINESS. 


€«<) 


bestows  ;  "that,  being  deliviTOti  from  your 
fiiemies,  and  from  the  h:iii(l  of  all  tliat  hate 
yiiu  ;"  from  the  iiifiueiice  of  ail  that  em- 
barrasses, and  all  that  discoiinifres  you  ; 
'"you  may  serve  him  without"  slavish  or 
disquieting,'  "  fear,  in  holiness  and  righte- 
ousness Ixifore  him,  all  the  days  of  your 
lii'e."   Luke  i.  74,  7.3. 

Happy  duTneranee  !  thrice  happy  eoii- 
dtiet  !  hut  happier  still  the  issue  of  all ! 
Which  reminds  me  of  my  last  inquiry ; 
namely, 

111.  What  will  be  the  effect  of  this  turn- 
ing? "  He,"  the  wicked  man  thus  turned, 
"  shall  save  his  soul  alive." 

He  shall  save.  Safety  shall  lie  his  com- 
panion ;  safety  shall  he  his  guard  ;  safety 
shall  escort  him  through  the  dangers  of  life. 
All  the  days  of  his  appointed  time  "he 
shall  dwell  under  the  defence  of  the  Most 
High,  and  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Almighty."  Psalm  xei.  1.  Most  desirable 
situation  !  especially  when  judgments,  de- 
solating and  de>tructive  judgments,  are 
abroad.  While  the  storm  of  calamity  is 
gathering,  or  when  the  tempest  of  trihida- 
tion  is  raging,  O  what  a  calm  must  it  create 
in  the  heart,  to  have  the  eternal  God  for 
our  refuge  !  Deut.  xxxiii.  27 ;  to  say  within 
ourselves,  "  The  hand  that  is  stretched 
over  the  sea,  and  shakes  the  kuigdonis  of 
the  earth  ;  the  hand  that  rends  the  moun- 
tains, and  scatters  the  everlasting  hills, 
Hab.  iii.  ti  ;  that  hand  is  my  defence  and 
my  shield." 

Save  his  soul.  It  is  not  improbable  but 
his  bodily  welfare  may  be  secured.  God 
may  set  a  mark  upon  his  forehead,  and  com- 
mand the  sword  of  the  destroying  angel  to 
pass  over  his  house.  But  however  this 
may  be  determined,  his  soul  shall  be  safe- 
As  to  his  sjiiritual  walfare,  he  has  ♦'  a  writ 
of  protection"  under  the  great  seal  of  hea- 
ven. The  Lord  Jesus  is  his  ever-faithful 
guardian,  and  "  none  shall  pluck  him  out  ot 
the  divine  Redeemer's  hand."  John  x.  28. 
The  roaring  lion  may  go  about,  seeking  to 
devour  him  ;  but  he  has  a  strong  city, 
which  the  infernal  adversary  cannot  storm  ; 
he  has  an  impregnable  bulwark,  which  the 
powers  of  darkness  cannot  scale.  Though 
he  fall,  the  arm  of  Christ  will  raise  him  ; 
though  he  he  defiled,  the  hlood  of  Christ 
will  cleanse  him  ;  though  he  die,  it  will  be 
no  loss,  but  gain.  He  that  has  the  keys  of 
the  grave,  will  give  commatidment  concern- 
ing his  mouldering  bones  ;  he  that  lives  for 
evermore,  will  receive  his  departing  sou!. 
This,  peihaps,  may  be  meant  by  that  other 
emphatical  word,  (dive. 

lie  shall  save  bis  soul  alive.  He  shall 
not  barely  be  safe,  but  haj)i)y.  He  shall 
eii.oy  what  truly  deserves  the  name  of  life. 
A  man  may  escape  from  his  e;iemy,  by  fly- 
ing to  a  fortified  castle ;  but  in  the  castle 


there  may  be  drougbt  and  i'amine.  He  may 
perish  by  these  disasters,  though  preserved 
from  tbe  pursuing  foe.  It  shall  not  be  thus 
with  the  returning,  believing,  renewed  sin- 
ner. He  shall  be  saved  with  a  complete 
and  everlasting  salvation.  He  is  a  child  of 
God,  and  an  heir  of  glory:  he  shall  rejoice 
in  Christ  Jesus  here,  and  shall  enter  into 
the  joy  of  his  Lord  hereafter.  When  the 
earth  is  burnt  up,  he  shall  see  it ;  when  the 
heavens  pass  away,  he  shall  stand  with  bold- 
ness ;  when  all  nature  sinks  into  dissolution, 
he  shall  not  only  survive,  but  enjoy  the  ruin, 
ill!  shall  leave  a  dissolving  world,  to  jjossess 
H  kingdom  in  heaven  ;  to  \\ear  a  crown  of 
I  ighteousness  ;  and  to  be  for  ever  with,  for 
ever  like,  his  blessed  and  glorious  Lord. 

We  have  now  shown  what  the  wicked 
man  should  turn  fiom,  what  he  should  turn 
to,  what  will  be  the  effect  of  this  turning, 
(jiive  me  leave  to  ask.  Has  the  arm  of  the 
Lord  been  revealed  V  are  you  impressed  by 
the  awful,  or  encouraged  by  the  comfortable 
truths?  If  so,  perhaps  you  will  be  ready  to 
say,  "  ^^'ilt  Christ  receive  me  ?  will  he 
make  me  a  partaker  of  these  incomparable 
benefits  ?  shall  such  a  one,  v/ho  is  so  very 
unworthy,  find  favour  in  his  sight  ?" 

Yes,  such  a  one  may  find  favour.  Any 
one,  every  one  who  comes,  he  will  receive. 
He  sends  his  ministers  to  invite  you ;  he 
sends  his  judgments  to  compel  you ;  he 
uses  every  expedient  to  gain  you.  He  bids 
earthquakes  tear  the  foundations  of  nature, 
and  tiu'ii  mighty  cities  into  ruinous  heaps, 
that  you  may  be  built  on  that  Rock  vvhich 
shall  never  be  shaken.  He  calls  the  sword 
of  war  out  of  its  scabbard,  and  commands 
it  to  be  bathed  in  blood,  that  you  may  fly 
for  safety  to  the  Prince  of  Peace.  While 
ruin  and  desolation  are  pursuing  their  dread- 
ful work  all  around,  he  throws  open  the 
doors  of  grace  and  righteousness,  and  most 
compassionately  cries,  "  Come,  my  people ; 
come,  poor  offenders ;  enter  into  these 
chambers,  and  find  rest  !"  Isa.  xxvi.  20. 

Is  any  of  you  still  inclined  to  reply, 
"  Will  Christ  indeed  receive  me,  who  am 
not  only  a  sinner,  but  a  great  sinner,  a  long- 
persisting  sinner,  and  now  seem  to  come 
but  at  the  last  hour;  more  like  one  driven 
by  fear  than  drawn  by  love  ?"  What  think- 
est  thou  ?  Would  the  widow  of  Nain,  who 
went  mourning  after  the  corpse  of  her  only 

son,  almost    inconsolable  with   her  loss . 

would  she  be  unwilling  to  receive  him,  when 
our  Lord  reanimated  the  cold  clay,  and 
"  delivered  him  alive  to  his  mother?"  Luke 
vii.  13.  Would  she  need  much  importu- 
nity, and  hardly  be  prevailed  on,  to  embrace 
her  beloved,  her  lamented  child  ?  Impossi- 
ble to  sujjpose.  Remember  what  Christ 
has  done  for  sinners  ;  what  he  has  suffered 
for  sinners ;  how  his  bowels  yearn  over 
sinners  ;  and  it  will  appear  equally  impos- 


670 


THE   WAY  OF  HOLINESS. 


sible   that  he  should   reject  any  returning 
profligate. 

Reject !  No.  Theg^ood  father,  aged-and 
venerable  as  he  was,  hastened;  yea,  ran  to 
meet  the  prodigral.  He  fell  on  his  neck, 
and  tenderly  kissed  the  dissolute  youth. 
Luke  XV.  20.  So,  witii  such  readiness,  and 
such  compassion,  will  the  everlasting  Fa- 
ther receive  you  to  his  family,  his  favour, 
his  love.  Niiy,  more,  he  will  receive  you 
with  joy.  He  is  the  good  Shepherd  ;  you 
are  the  lost  sheep  :  he  is  come,  in  his  word, 
to  seek  you;  when  you  turn  to  him,  he  has 
found  you.  Then,  says  the  Scripture,  the 
good  shepherd  goes  home  with  his  recovered 
sheep  "  rejoicing."  Luke  xv.  5.  O  !  let 
your  minister,  and  (which  is  unspeakably 
more  engaging)  let  the  blessed  Jesus  have 
joy  with  you.  my  brethren ;  even  that  Je- 
sus by  whom  sinners  are  "  dearly  beloved 
and  longed  for,"  Philip,  iv.  1,  who  has  no 
greater  delight  than  to  save  them  from  their 
iniquities,  and  number  them  among  his 
children. 

If  you  should  answer,  "  This  is  a  matter 
of  the  utmost  importance  :  It  lies  at  the 
very  root  of  all  my  comfort :  Let  me  hear 
it  confirmed  from  our  Lord's  own  mouth  : 
I  will  hearken  what  the  Lord  God  will  say 
concerning  me."  Psal.  Ixxxv.  8. 

Hear  then  his  own  promise ;  the  most 
precious  promise  that  words  can  form,  or 
fancy  conceive  :  "  Whosoever  cometh  to 
me,"  for  pardon,  for  justification,  for  holi- 
ness, "  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  him  out," 
John  vi.  37.  "  Whosoever ;"  whether  he 
be  high  or  low,  learned  or  iUiterate  ;  whe- 
ther he  be  a  servant  or  a  master,  a  prince 
or  a  beggar ;  no  one  is  excepted,  no  one 
shall  be  refused-  "  In  no  wise  ;"  on  no 
consideration  of  past  transgressions,  on  no 
account  of  present  depravity,  on  no  fore- 
knowledge of  future  failings.  Only  let  him 
come,  "  only  let  him  come,"  and  nothing 
shall  debar  him  from  the  enjoyment  of  my 
benefits  ;  nothing  shall  separate  him  from 
the  endearments  of  my  love. 

Hear  his  kind  invitation  :  "  Return  unto 
me,  for  I  have  redeemed  you,"  Isa.  xliv.  22. 
Ye  that  have  hitherto  been  strangers  to 
seriousness,  and  always  alienated  from  nie, 
"  turn  unto  me,"  and  I  will  not  so  much  as 
upbraid  you  (James  i.  5,)  with  your  folly. 
Ye  that  are  now  backsliders,  and  have  for 
a  season  ungratefully  departed  from  me, 
"  turn  unto  me,"  and  I  will  heal  your  back- 
slidings  ;  my  stripes  shall  make  you  whole. 
Ye  that  have  been  slaves  to  vice,  have  sold 
yourselves  to  work  wickedness,  and  are 
grown  old  in  abominable  "practices — it  is 
not  too  late  even  for  you  :  "  I  h;>.ve  re- 
deemed even  sucn  as  you ;"  I  shake  the 
pillars  of  nature,  and  rock  the  foundations  of 


vering,"  Isa.  1.  3.  Yet,  for  such  as  yon, 
"  I  gave  my  back  to  the  smiters,  and  hid 
not  my  face  from  shame  and  spitting,"  Isa. 
1.  6.  Yes,  sinners,  sinners  of  every  kind, 
I  bore  the  curse  of  the  law,  and  died  the 
death  of  the  cross,  on  purpose  that  I  might 
redeem  such  as  you. — Most  amiable  Re- 
deemer !  who  would  not  listen  to  a  call  so 
wonderfully  endearing  ?  Sinners,  how  can 
you  withstand  a  motive  so  sweetly  con- 
straining? 

Hear  his  solemn  oath  :  "  As  I  live,  saith 
the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the 
death  of  the  wicked,  but  that  the  wicked 
turn  from  his  way  and  live.  Turn  ye,  turn 
ye,  from  your  evil  ways  ;  for  why  will  ye  die, 
O  house  of  Israel  ?"  Ezek.  xxxiii.  1 1.  Was 
there  ever  any  declaration  so  charming,  or 
any  address  so  affectionate  ?  See  how  the 
high  and  lofty  One  condescends  !  He  com- 
mands in  heaven,  on  earth,  through  hell ; 
yet,  more  like  a  supplicant  than  a  sovereign, 
he  vouchsafes  to  solicit  and  beseech  you. 
From  the  habitation  of  his  glory  he  cries, 
"  Turn  ye,"  poor  perishing  creatures  ! 
Again  he  cries,  "  Turn  ye"  to  your  God 
and  Saviour  ;  that  ye  may  be  delivered  from 
all  your  transgressions,  and  iniquity  may 
not  be  your  ruin.  To  take  away  all  your 
reluctance,  he  pleads,  he  expostulates, 
"  Why  will  ye  die  ?"  why  will  ye  destroy 
yourselves,  and  be  undone  for  ever  ?  That 
you  may  have  no  doubt  of  a  free  pardon, 
and  a  favourable  reception,  "  he  swears  ;" 
swears  by  himself,  by  his  own  life  and  im- 
mortal perfections,  that  he  "  has  no  plea- 
sure  in  your  death  ;"  but  shall  rejoice,  in- 
finitely rejoice  in  your  recovery  and  salva- 
tion. 

Here  then  you  have  the  promise,  the  in- 
vitation, the  oath  of  the  Lord.  Can  there 
be  greater  encouragement  ?  will  not  this 
threefold  cord  draw  you?  Should  you  say, 
"  1  cannot  turn  ;  I  am  tied  and  bound  with 
the  chain  of  my  corruptions.  O  that  Christ 
—  "  Fear  not:  he  will,  he  will.  He  that 
sends  his  minister  to  give  you  this  exhorta- 
tion ;  he  that  sends  Ils  Spirit  to  work  this 
desire  in  your  soul ;  he  that  spilt  his  blood 
to  obtain  all  blessings  for  you  ;  he  will  put 
forth  his  strength,  and  turn  you  to  himself. 
He  stretched  his  beneficent  hand,  and  sav- 
ed Peter  from  sinking  in  the  tempestuous 
sea.  What  he  did  for  him,  is  a  pattern 
and  a  pledge  of  what  he  is  ready  to  do  for 
you.  Only  continue  to  seek  his  face  ;  Jet 
your  heart  talk  of  him  ;  set  his  unbound- 
ed goodness  and  almighty  power  before 
your  eyes  ;  meditate  on  his  infinite  propi- 
tiation and  incomprehensible  merits ;  con- 
sider his  everlasting  righteousness  and 
never-ceasing  intercession ;  look  upon  all 
these  as  your  own.      To  look  upon  them 


the    world  ;  "  I   clothe   the   heavens    with    as  your  own,  you  have  a  warrant,  you  have 
blackness,  and  I  nuke  sackcloth  their  co-  I  a  command.     And  if  Christ  has  done  so 


THE    WAY  OF  HOLINESS. 


671 


grent  things  for  you,  you  may  assuredly  be- 
lieve, that  iu  his  due  time,  iii  his  wise 
maiuier,  he  will  "•'  briug  you  spiritual  health 
sukI  cure  ;"  he  will  carry  on  what  he  has 
begun,  and  enable  you  to  grow  in  grace  ; 
he  will  comfort  your  hearts,  and  stablish  you 
in  every  good  work. 

Shall  1  proceed  ?  I  have  already  been  co- 
pious, perhaps  somewhat  tedious.  Yet  you 
will  bear  with  me  on  this  distinguished  atid 
solemn  occasion  :  Yes,  you  will  bear  with 
me  a  little  longer  ;  for  I  am  loath,  very 
loath  to  dismiss  you  without  persuading  you. 
Persuading  !  alas,  I  cannot.  "  God,  and 
none  but  God,  can  persuade  Japheth," 
Gen.  ix.  27.  However,  as  an  instrument 
in  hisallpowerfiil  hand,  let  me  address  you 
once  again. 

I  observe  several  persons  here,  on  this 
day  of  humiliation,  who  very  rarely  attend 
the  public  worship.  Why  my  friends,  why 
do  you  \vrong  your  own  souls  ?  Why  do  you 
withdraw  yourselves  from  the  preaching  of 
the  gospel  ?  Know  ye  not  "  that  Jesus  pass- 
eth  by"  (  Matt.  xx.  SO, )  in  the  way  of  his  or- 
dinances ?  Here  you  may,  like  Bartimeus 
of  old,  approach  the  Son  of  David  ;  here  you 
may  obtain  faith  and  holiness.  Faith  com- 
cth  by  hearing,  and  holiness  by  the  word  of 
God.  And  are  not  these  blessings  worth 
your  attendance  ?  can  you  live  happily  with- 
out them  ?  can  you  die  comfortably  without 
them  ?  or  can  you,  without  them,  be  pre- 
pared to  meet  your  God,  when  he  cometh  to 
judge  the  world  ?  Why  should  you  foisake 
the  assembling yoinsel ves  together  ?  I3o  you 
hear  terrifying  or  disti'cssing  doctrines  in 
this  place  ?  Is  not  this  the  house  of  praise, 
as  well  as  of  prayer  ?  Does  not  the  joyful 
sound  echo  under  these  roofs  ?  Is  not 
Christ  set  forth  crucified  before  your  eyes? 
crucified  for  such  offenders  as  you  ?  cruci- 
fied that  such  offenders  as  you  may  be  par- 
doned, may  be  accepted,  may  be  glorified  ? 
And  will  you  despise  such  a  divinely  com- 
passionate Saviour  ?  will  you  refuse  such 
astonishingly  rich  mercies  ?  Oh  that  here- 
after you  may  "  be  glad  when  they  say  unto 
you,  Let  us  go  into  the  courts  of  the  Lord," 
Psalm  cxxii.  1. 

Should  my  wishes  prove  vain,  I  have  at 
least  delivered  my  message.  If  you  perish 
through  obstinacy  and  unbelief,  I  am  clear 
from  your  blood.  I  call  heaven  and  earth 
to  witness,  you  have  been  warned,  you  have 
been  instructed,  you  have  been  exhorted. 
You  cannot  say  you  perish  for  lack  of  know- 
ledge ;  for  life  and  salvation  have  beeti  set 
before  you,  have  been  brought  to  your  very 
door,  and  you  are  importuned  to  lay  hold  of 
them.  You  will  therefore  be  without  ex- 
cuse, and  have  no  cloak  for  your  guilt. 

But  why  should  I  leave  you  with  such 
melancholy  apprehensions?  Let  me  hope 
better  things  of  you  :  let  me  hope  that  you 


will  not  disregard  these  admonitions,  how- 
ever you  may  have  disregarded  too  many 
exhortations  of  this  kind.  This  is  a  re- 
markable day  :  O  that  it  may  be  memor- 
able on  account  of  your  turning  to  God  ! 
Let  this  be  its  distinction  through  all  your 
future  life  ;  let  this  be  its  distinction  through 
all  the  ages  of  eternity;  that  you  may  say, 
when  death  summons  you  into  the  invisible 
state,  when  the  trump  of  God  calls  you  to 
the  great  tribunal,  when  you  mingle  with 
saints  and  angels  in  the  kiiigdom  of  heaven, 
"  Blessed  be  (jod  for  that  solemn  day,  and 
its  sacred  exercises  !  That  was  the  day  of 
my  better  birth.  Then  I  began  to  consider; 
then  I  began  to  pray;  then'l  began  to  see 
my  undone  condition,  and  my  extreme  need 
of  a  Saviour;  then  too  I  saw  Jesus  giving 
himself  a  sacrifice  for  my  sins,  and  redeem- 
ing me  to  God  with  his  blood."  Happy  ! 
thrice  happy !  inexpressibly  happy  day  I  if 
thus,  if  thus  improved  ! 

You  have,  I  presume,  abstained  from 
your  usual  food,  as  you  have  been  joining 
in  confession,  supplication,  and  prayer. 
This  is  well  done  ;  but  this  is  ordy  half ; 
rather  it  is,  by  infinite  degrees,  the  smallest 
part  of  your  duty.  It  is  not  said.  When 
the  wicked  man  abstaineth  from  his  usual 
food,  but  "  when  he  turneth  from  his  wick- 
edness," as  the  consequence  of  his  believ- 
ing in  Christ.  It  is  not  said,  When  the 
wicked  man  joins  in  public  confession  to 
God,  but  when  "  he  doth  that  which  is 
lawful  and  right,"  as  a  fruit  of  his  fellowship 
with  Christ — then  he  shall  save,  he  shall 
save  his  soul,  he  shall  save  his  soul  alive. 
O  that  all,  from  the  king  on  the  throne,  to 
the  labourer  in  the  barn  ;  from  the  highest 
nobleman  to  the  meanest  tradesman  ;  that 
all  might  now  be  inclined,  now  be  enabled 
to  turn  unto  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  In 
him  millions,  unnumbered  millions,  of 
wretched  sinners  have  found  recovery  and 
liberty  ;  recovery  from  the  death,  and  liber- 
ty from  the  bondage  of  sin  ;  "and,"  blessed 
be  his  unbounded  grace,  "  yet  there  is 
room." 

Then  the  national  fast  would  be  a  nation- 
al blessing;  whereas,  without  this  all-im- 
portant turning  to  the  adorable  Saviour, 
what  will  the  formalities  of  our  devotion 
signify  ?  They  will  be  a  mere  lip-labour, 
a  religious  trifling  ;  nay,  they  will  be  a  so- 
lemn mockery  uf  the  Almighty,  and  provoke 
his  abhorrence.  Does  not  Jehovah  him- 
self speak  to  the  same  purpose  ?  "  Is  t 
such  a  fast  that  I  have  chosen — a  day  for  a 
man  to  afllict  hi-s  sonl  ?  is  it  to  bow  down 
his  head  as  a  bulrush,  and  to  spread  sack- 
cloth and  ashes  under  him  ?"  Isa.  Iviii.  5  ; 
to  discontinue  your  ordinary  business,  and 
refrain  from  a  meal's  meat  ?  to  make  a  lit- 
tle doleful  lamentation,  and  put  up  a  few 
petitions  extorted  by  fear?     "  Will  you  call 


672 


THE  WAY  OF  HOLINESS. 


this  a  fast  ?"  saitli  the  high  and  holy  One, 
with  an  air  of  sovereign  contempt :  "  this 
an  acceptable  day  to  the  Lord?"  No,  ver- 
ily :  it  is  the  most  odious  hypocrisy  ;  like 
crying,  Hail  master,  with  the  tongue,  while 
treachery  and  enmity  fill  the  heart :  unless 
you  turn  to  Christ,  that  you  may  be  wash- 
ed, that  YOU  may  he  justified,  that  yOH  may 
be  sanctified  :  that,  having  remission  of  sins 
through  his  blood,  and  peace  of  conscience 
through  his  grace,  you  may  feel  the  bands 
of  wickedness  loosed,  and  may  become  the 
willing  servants  of  righteousness. 

What  is  the  grand  sin  of  our  nation? 
Ignorance  and  neglect  of  Christ.  What  is 
tlie  cause  of  all  our  other  sins  ?  Ignorance 
and  neglect  of  Christ.  Why  are  the  judg- 
ments of  the  Almighty  hanging  over  oor 
heads  ?  For  ignorance  and  neglect  of 
Christ.  Never,  therefore,  shall  we  answer 
the  end  of  our  sacred  assembly,  nor  the  de- 
sign of  God's  aliirming  visitations,  till  we 
begin  to  know  Christ,  to  receive  Christ, 
to  make  use  of  Christ  by  faith.  When 
this  is  done,  we  may  reasonably  hope,  that 
our  prayers  will  go  up  with  acceptance,  and 
not  return  again  till  a  blessing  be  sent : 
that,  as  individuals,  our  "  light  shall  break 
forth  like  the  morning,  and  our  health  shall 
spring  forth  speedily."  that,  as  a  communi- 
ty, "  the  favour  of  God  shall  go  before  us, 
and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shall  be  our 
rere-ward,"  Isa.  Iviii,  8. 

Then  we  may  look  around  on  our  most 


enraged  enemies,  and  say  with  the  Psal- 
mist, "  Though  an  host  of  men  should  en- 
camp against  me,  yet  shall  not  my  heart  be 
afraid,"  Psalm  xxvii.  3.  Then  may  we 
look  backward  to  the  late  desolating  earth- 
quake, and  say  with  the  believers  of 
"  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength,  therefore 
will  we  not  fear,  though  the  earth  be  re- 
moved, and  though  the  mountains  be  car- 
ried into  the  midst  of  the  sea,"  Psalm  xlvi. 
1,  2.  Then  may  we  look  forward  to  an 
incomparably  more  dreadful  scene,  even  to 
the  righteous  Judge,  and  the  great  tribunal, 
and  say  with  the  triumphant  apostle,  "  Who 
shall  lay  any  thing  to  our  charge  ?  It  is 
God  that  justifieth  ;  who  shall  condemn 
us?  It  is  Christ  that  died,"  Rom.  viii; 
•33,  34. 

Let  me  entreat  yon,  therefore,  brethren, 
for  the  sake  of  your  own  immortal  soiil^ 
and  for  the  welfare  of  our  endangered  na- 
tion— let  me  charge  you  by  all  thiit  is  de- 
sirable in  time,  and  awful  in  etemity,  not 
to  neglect  these  counsels.  Being  so  so«- 
lemnly  reproved,  if  "you  harden  your  neck," 
your  destruction  cometh  suddenly,  and 
"that  without  remedy,"  Prov.  xxix.  1. 
Having  these  warnings  from  the  divine 
word,  and  warnings  from  the  divine  Provi- 
dence, "  if  ye  still  do  wickedly,"  it  is  not 
man,  it  is  not  an  angel,  it  is  God  himself 
who  declares,  "  Ye  shall  be  consumed  ; 
even  ye,  your  coimtry,  and  your  king,"  I 
Sam.  xii.  25. 


THE 

KNOWLEDGE  OF  SALVATION  PRECIOUS  IN  THE  HOUR  OF 

DEATH; 

A   SERMON, 

Preached  January  4,  1 759, 

L  pon  the  death  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ja-iiies  Hervey,  by  W.  Romaine,  A.  M.  Lecturer  of  St.  Dunstan's  m 

the  West,  London. 


RighteotisneiS  deliverethfrom  death, — Prov.  x. 


Luke  ii.  Sf),  30. — "Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  according  to  thy  word ;  for  mina 
eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation." 


AcconDiNG  to  the  ancient  prophecies,  in'ingin  the  flesh;  and  among  them,  good 
the  fulness  of  time  God  sent  forth  his  Son.  old  Simeon,  and  Anna  a  prophetess,  are 
He  came  to  hia  own,  when  there  was  a  particularly  mentioned.  St.  Luke  says, 
general  expectation  of  his  birth.  Many  ["there  was  a  man  in  Jerusalem,  whose 
just  and  devout  persons  in  Jerusalem  were  name  was  Simeon,  and  the  same  man  was 
then  looking  out  for  the  Redeemer's  com-l  just,"  a  justified  person,  "  and  devout,"  fear- 


A  SERMON  ON  MR.   IIERVEYS  DF.ATIL 


673 


iiif^'to  offend  God,  as  the  Greek  word  sig- 
nifies, "  waiting  for  the  consolation  of 
Israel ;"  lie  was  ^^■aiting  for  the  iiicariiatioii 
of  the  divine  Comforter,  by  wliose  birth  all 
the  promises  of  comfort  were  to  be  ratified 
and  fulfilled,  ;-iid  the  Israel  of  God  were  to 
receive  evcrlastiiifc  consolation.  The  Lord 
was  pleas.'d  to  vouchsafe  a  particular  revel- 
ation of  his  will  in  this  matter  to  Simeon  ; 
"  For  the  Holy  Spiiit  was  wpon  liim,  and 
it  was  revealed  unto  hi:n  by  the  Holy  Spi- 
rit, that  he  should  not  see  death  before  he 
liiid  seen  the  Loids  Clirist  incarna:e.  And 
he  came  by  the  direction  of  the  Spirit  into 
the  temple  ;  and  when  the  parents  brousjht 
in  the  holy  child  Jesus,  to  do  for  him  after 
the  custom  of  the  law,  then  took  lie  hiin  Uj) 
J /I  his  arms,  and  blessed  God  that  he  had 
lived  to  this  happy  liour,  when  he  could 
t^die  up  the  prophet's  words,  and  say,  Lo, 
this  is  our  (i!od,  we  have  waited  for  hiin  ; 
fiii.l  he  will  save  us;  this  is  the  Lord,  we 
liave  waited  for  him  ;  we  will  be  plad  and 
rejoice  in  his  salvation."  Simeon  waited  to 
see  God  incarnate  ;  and  having  seen  him, 
he  wanted  to  live  no  longer.  He  desired 
his  dismission.  All  the  ends  of  living  were 
answered;  and  therefore  he  put  up  this 
sweet  prayer  :  "  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  tliy 
servant  di'part  in  peace,  according  to  thy 
word ;  formiiie  eyeshave  seen  thy  salvation." 

With  these  same  words,  one  of  our  dear 
brethren,  now  with  the  Lord,  finished  his 
cou:sp.  They  were  the  dying  words  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  James  Hervey.  He  had  long 
desired  to  depart  and  to  be  with  Christ, 
w  Iiich  he  knew  was  far  better  than  to  abide 
in  the  flesh;  but  he  waited  jKitientiy  for  the 
I^onl's  time  ;  and,  when  it  was  come,  he 
thus  expressed  the  tliankfulness  of  his  iieart, 
"  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  senant  dej)art 
in  peace,  according  to  thy"  most  holy  and 
comfortable  "  woid ;  for  mine  eyes  have 
seen  thy"  precious  "  salvation.''*  The 
Loi'd  heard  him,  and  gave  him  a  gentle  dis- 
mission. He  died,  as  he  had  lived,  in  a 
perfectly  even  and  calm  composure  of  mind. 
Deatli  showed  tliat  he  came  to  him  as  a 
friendly  messenger  to  call  him  to  glorj* ;  for 
he  cheerfully  obeyed  the  suminons.  There 
was  no  fear,  no  struggle,  not  a  sigh  or 
groan  ;  but  he  departed  in  jjeace,  and  in  full 
assurance  of  fiiith.  Oh.!  that  you  and  I, 
/  my  bretlneti,  may  so  live  by  the  faith  of 
the  Son  of  (iod,  that  when  we  coine  to  die, 
we  may  be  al)le  to  use  iliis  same  prayer, 
and  may  receive  of  the  Lord  a  like  gracious 
answer. 

These  sweet  dying  words  of  our  dear 
brother  have  made  a  great  impression  upon 
several  of  his  acquaintance  ;  for  they  have 
been  led  to  consider  them  more  closely  than 


*  Several  particulars  in  tliis  .'^ermon  resppctiii;;  Mr. 
Hervey  are  more  fully  related  in  the  accuuin  of  hi;. 
Jife. 


])erhaps  they  ever  did  before,  and  .several 
ha\  e  meditated  upon  them  with  great  com- 
fort. In  order  that  others  migiit  do  the 
same,  and  that  his  ha])py  death  might  be  the 
means  of  stirring  up  many  to  seek  to  die 
the  death  of  the  rigiiteous,  and  that  their 
latter  end  might  be  like  his,  I  have  deter- 
mined to  speak  upon  the  words  this  day. 
May  the  same  Spirit  by  whicli  Simeon 
spake  them  be  in  all  your  hearts  I  may  he 
teach  you  their  true  and  full  n)eaning,  an,l, 
in  (n)d's  due  time,  may  he  give  you  the 
comiurtable  experience  of  them  !  Under  his 
guidance  let  us  consider, 

I.  That  when  Simeon  had  seen  the  sal- 
vation of  God,  he  was  ]>repared  to  dejjart : 

II.  He  therefore  desired  it,  and  prajed 
for  it :  and, 

III.  He  expected  he  sliould  depart  in 
peace  according  to  God's  word,  which  was 
fulfilled  to  him.  And  under  each  of  these 
particulars,  I  shall  speak  of  the  e.xperience 
of  our  deceased  brother. 

I.  Simeon  had  it  revealed  to  him  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  that  he  should  not  die  until  he 
had  seen  the  Lord's  Christ ;  and  when  Je- 
sus was  brought  into  the  temple,  he  was 
directed  to  go  and  receive  him  for  the  pro- 
mised Messiah,  and,  taking  him  up  in  his 
arms,  he  blessed  God.  and  said,  "  Lord, 
now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace, 
according  to  thy  word  ;  for  mine  eyes  have 
seen  thy  salvation."  It  is  evident  bespoke 
these  woids  in  their  primary  sense,  of  his 
seeing  Jesus  with  the  eyes  of  his  body  ;  but 
this  could  have  been  no  great  cause  of  joy 
to  him,  unless  he  had  before  seen  Christ 
some  other  way;  for  multitudes  .«aw  him 
with  their  bodily  eyes  while  he  \\as  uijon 
earth,  who  wiro  no  better  for  the  sight ;  and 
multitudes  will  hereafter  see  him  in  his  glo- 
rified body,  but  it  will  be  to  their  everlasting 
confusion.  There  is  another  kind  of  sight 
towhicJi  our  church  referred  you  this  after- 
noon, when  each  of  you  took  up  these  words, 
and  said,  "  For  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy 
salvation."  If  you  knew  what  you  said,  and 
spoke  the  trutli  as  youhad  experienced  it,  you 
meant  that  you  had  seen  the  salvation  of 
God  with  the  eye  of  faith ;  according  to 
what  is  said  of  J\Ioses,  "  That  by  faith  he 
saw  him  who  is  invisible."  Heb.  xi.  27. 
He  saw  him  by  the  eyes  of  his  soul,  who 
was  invisible  to  the  eyes  of  his  body  ;  for 
the  soul  has  its  eyes  as  well  as  tl.e  body  : 
but  sin  darkened  thcui  ;  it  jnit  them  into 
the  state  in  which  tiie  eyes  of  the  body  are 
when  they  have  no  light  ;  then  they 
can  see  nothing.  So  the  soul  is  said,  in 
S(Mipture,  to  be  in  darkness  and  blindness, 
until  the  eyes  of  the  understanding  be  en- 
lightened. They  cannot  see  any  spiritual 
objects,  until  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
>hine  upon  them;  nor,  when  he  does  shine, 
can  they  see  any  loveliness  in  those  objects, 


674 


A  SERMON  ON 


until  tlirv  be  able  to  act  faith  upon  tlium  ; 
for  the  eye  of  faith  not  only  beholds  the  ob- 
ject, but  also  distinguishes  its  own  interest 
in  it.  Faith  keeps  all  the  senses  of  the 
soul  in  act  and  exercise  upon  the  proper  ob- 
ject which  each  apprehends :  here  the  eye 
of  faith  is  fixed  upon  salvation,  not  only 
viewing  it  as  a  blessing  belonging  toothers, 
but  also  appropriating  it  to  itself.  "  Mine 
eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation  :"  here  Simeon, 
speaking  of  our  Saviour,  calls  him  salvation. 
because  all  salvation  is  in  and  from  him. 
He  is  the  author,  and  he  is  the  finisher  of 
it.  The  great  plan  of  it  was  laid  by  the 
coequal  and  coeternal  Persons  of  the  ever- 
blessed  Trinity,  before  the  foimdation  of  the 
world ;  it  was  carried  into  execution  by  our 
divine  Saviour  in  the  fulness  of  time  ;  and 
he  is  an  eternal  salvation,  an  eternal  deliver- 
ance from  all  evil,  and  an  eternal  possession 
of  all  good.  Upon  the  entrance  of  sin  in- 
to the  world,  this  great  salvation  of  our  God 
was  revealed  ;  and  by  faith  believers  under 
the  Old  Testament  dispensation  enjoyed 
the  benefits  of  it.  At  the  appointed  time 
Jehovah  took  a  body  of  fiesh,  and  our  di- 
vine Immanuel  stood  up  to  save  his  people 
from  their  sins.  He  undertook  to  satisfy 
all  the  demands  of  law  and  justice.  The 
law  lie  satisfied,  by  paying  it  a  perfect  un- 
sinning  obedience  ;  which  being  a  divine,  as 
well  as  a  human  oliedience,  did  therefore 
magnify  the  law,  and  make  it  more  honour- 
•able,  than  if  all  the  creatures  in  heaven  and 
earth  had  never  offended  against  it.  Justice 
he  satisfied,  by  enduring  the  threatened  pun- 
ishment ;  and  after  his  sufferings  and  death, 
justice  Lad  no  more  demands  upon  him  ;  for 
he  came  out  of  the  prison  of  the  grave  with 
a  full  discharge.  This  satisfiiction  made  to 
law  and  justice  by  the  obedience  and  suffer- 
ings of  the  Lord  Jesus,  is  what  the  Scrip- 
ture calls  the  righteousness  of  God,  because 
it  is  a  divine  and  infinitely  perfect  righte- 
ousness ;  a  divine  righteousness  wrought 
out  by  Jehovah  himself,  and  as  infinitely 
perfect  a  righteousness  as  Jehovah  could 
make  it.  In  this  all-glorious  righteousness 
of  the  God-man,  Christ  Jesus,  consists  the 
sinner's  salvation  ;  for  he  is  accepted  and 
justified  by  it:  the  fruits  of  this  righteous- 
ness are  his  sanctification,  and  the  robe 
of  this  righteousness  is  his  glorification. 
So  that  salvation  in  time  and  in  eternity 
depends  ujjon  the  righteousness  of  the  in- 
carnate Gud.  This  is  the  fundamental  doc- 
trine of  the  Christian  religion,  for  which 
our  dear  brother  was  a  noble  champion. 
He  saw,  he  experienced  the  importance  of 
it,  and  therefore,  in  his  conveis.ition  and  in 
his  preaching,  it  was  his  favourite  topic. 
How  sweetly,  how  profitably  have  I  heard 
bill!  dwell  upon  it !  and  how  excellently  has 
lie  defended  it  in  his  writings  !  Read  his 
Thei-on  and  Aspasio ;  and  when  you  are 


thcroughly  convinced  that  Christ  is  the  end 
of  the  law  for  righ.tcousness  to  every  one 
who  believe! h,  and  can  say  with  faith, 
"  In  the  Ijord  li.nve  I  righteousiicss  and  sal- 
vation," then  your  mind  will  be  settled  in 
peace  and  comfort,  and  you  will  be  deliver- 
ed from  those  d:ingerous  errors  which  are 
nowprojjagated  concerning  the  righteousness 
of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Thaidc  God  xot  the 
masterly  defence  of  it  in  these  Dialogues.* 
In  them,  Mr.  Hervey,  being  dead,  yet; 
speaketh  the  praises  of  his  adorable  Re- 
deemer, and  clearly  proves,  that  we  have 
our  salvation  thiough  his  righteousness. 
Immanuel  the  .Saviour  is  the  justifier,  as  he 
says  himself,  Isa.  xlv.  21,  22.  "  There  is  no 
God  else  beside  me,  a  God  that  gives 
righteousness  and  a  Saviour,  there  is  none 
beside  me.  Ljok  unto  me  and  be  ye  saved, 
all  the  ends  of  the  earth ;  for  I  am  God, 
and  there  is  none  else."  How  could  they 
be  saved  by  lookin'^:  ulito  Cl'.rist  ?  Certain- 
ly not  by  a  look  of  their  bodily  eyes. 
Simeon's  joy  did  not  arise  from  having 
Christ  in  his  arms,  and  looking  upon  him  ; 
but  from  being  al)le  to  look  upon  him  by 
an  act  of  faith.  Ke  knew  him  to  be  his 
Saviour.  Tlience  arose  his  joy  ;  and  from 
thence  must  yours  arise.  It  is  the  look  of 
faith  which  saves;  the  eye  of  faith  kept  in 
exercise  upon  its  proper  object,  even  upon 
.lesus,  rhe  autlior  and  finisher  of  faith.  It  is 
this  act  of  faith  which  our  Lord  requires  : 
"Look  untome,"  with  this  promise  annexed, 
"  and  be  ye  saved."  There  is  salvation  in  the 
look  of  faith;  for  it  sees  and  receives  Jesus,  as 
he  is  ottered  in  Scripture,  for  a  free,  full, 
and  complete  Saviour.  And  whoever 
keeps  the  eye  of  faith  in  constant  ex- 
ercise, is  prepared,  with  good  old  Simeon, 
to  depart  in  peace  ;  because,  by  having  an 
interest  and  property  in  the  sahation  of 
our  God,  he  is  thereby  delivered  from 
every  thing  that  can  make  death  dreadful, 
and  is  in  possession  of  every  thing  that  can 
make  death  desirable. 


*  About  a  week  before  Mr.  Hervey  was  taken  ill,  I 
mentioned  to  him  a  report  that  was  si)rea{l  about  con- 
cerning Mr.  Sandeinan's  Letters  on  Theron  and  As- 
pasio to  this  effect,— That  he  (Mr.  Hervey)  had 
written  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Cooke,  and  therein  had  said, 
that  Mr.  Sandeman  was  in  the  right,  and  had  con- 
vinced hiin  of  his  error;  or  words  to  that  purpose. 
To  which  he  answered,  Tliat  he  had  written  a  letter 
to  Mrs.  Cooke,  and  therein  he  had  acknowledged,  that 
m..".ny  of  Mr  .Sandeman'sreniai-ks  were  judicious,  and 
that  he  had  corrected  some  of  his  expressions  and  in- 
accuracies. But  he  said,  that  he  was  very  far  from 
having  changed  his  opinion  as  to  the  substance  and 
matter  of  the  argument ;  for  therein  he  thought  Mr. 
Sandeman  was  entirely  wrong.  Whereupon  I  dcjired 
he  would  insert  an  advertisement  in  some  of  the  Lon- 
don papers,  signed  by  himself,  to  set  this  mistake 
right,  lest  it  might  hinder  the  sale  and  reading  of  his 
books,  and  tiiertby  prevent  much  good.  To  which 
heairecd;  and  added,  that  he  would  let  that  para- 
graph stand  in  his  Answer  to  Mr.  Wesley,  relatingto 
Mr.  Sanrieman,  only  softening  the  expression  a  little; 
but  ail  this  was  prevented  by  his  illness  aiid  <leath. 
Tiic  t:  uiii  of  t'nis  I  am  ready  to  attest. 

Aij.i.vJiAM  Maddock.,  Curate  of  Weston-Tcvell. 


MR.  HERVEVS  DEATil. 


675 


What  is  it  tliat  iiinkes  (leath  dreadful  ? 
Is  it  not  guilt  ill  the  (ronseifuce,  accusing 
the  sinner  for  the  breach  of  the  holy  law, 
and  aliuniiii;'  him  with  fe.ir  of  the  threaten- 


w.ill  he  rthle  to  say  with  our  dear  brother, 
"  Jjord,  now  lettest  thou  tliy  servant  dej)art 
in  peace,  according  to  thy  word  :  for  mine 
eyes  h.ive  seen  thy   salvation."     He  niii^ht 


ed  ))nnishinent,  which  the  jnstice,  and  holi-   well  say,  "  jVIine  eyes  iiuve  seen   thy  salva- 


anii  truth  of  (iod  are  concei  nod  to  see 
inflicted  in  time  and  in  eternity  ?  Thus  we 
read,  "  The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  the 
strength  of  sin  is  the  law."  Death  has 
j)nwer  to  sting,  so  long  as  the  broken  law 
gives  sin  a  right  to  accuse  and  condemn  :  all 
unpardoned  siiniers  therefore  are  afraid  of 
deatii.  From  this  state  of  fear  and  bond- 
age our  Lord  c.mie  to  save  his  people  : 
"  He  came  to  deliver  them,  who  through 
fear  of  death  were  all  their  lifetime  subject 
to  bondage;"  and  he  does  deliver  them. 
■when  their  sins  are  forgiven,  and  his  right- 
eousness is  imputed  to  them  :  lor  then  the 
broken  law  cannotcondemn,  nor  justice  pun- 
ish, there  being  no  condemnatit;!!  to  them 
that  are  in  Christ  Jesus.  Ujjoii  which 
death  loses  its  sting  ;  and  when  the  par- 
doned sinner  looks  upon  it,  he  sees  nothing 
terrible  in  its  a[)pearance,  but  can  boldly, 
and  without  ])rosuinption  say,  "  Yea,  when 
1  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  ol 
death,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for  thou  my  God 
art  with  me." 

And  he  is  not  only  prepared  to  die,  be- 
cause he  is  delivered  from  every  thing  that 
could  make  death  dreadful,  but  also,  because 
he  is  in  the  possession  of  every  thing  that  can 
make  death  desirable.  He  knows  he  has 
an  iuterest  in  Christ,  and  Christ  is  the  pos- 
sessor of  heaven  and  earth.  He  has  all 
things  in  his  hands,  and  has  promised  to 
make  them  all  work  together  for  the  good 
of  his  redeemed  people  ;  so  that  wlioever 
has  Christ,  has  all  things.  "  All  things," 
says  the  apostle,  "  are  yours,  whether  life 
or  death,  or  things  present  or  things  to  come, 
all  are  yours."  And  the  reason  follows, 
"  And  ye  are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  (iod's." 
As  all  that  Christ  has  is  yours,  and  all  that 
(rod  has  is  Christ's,  c  nsequently  allis  yours. 
And  death  by  name  is  yours  :  no  longer  a 
curse  and  a  punishment,  but  turned  into  a 
real  blessing  ;  for  it  is  the  gate  and  entrance, 
through  which  you  pass  into  endless  life  and 
never-fading  glory. 

Thus  he  is  prepared  to  depart,  who  has. 
seen  with  the  eye  of  faith  the  salvation  of 
God.  The  doctrine  is  clear  from  Scriptme  ; 
but  how  is  it,  my  brethren,  in  your  experi- 
ence ?  are  you  prepared  to  depart  ?  and  on 
what  do  you  build  your  preparation  ?  on  the 
Ijord  .Jesus,  or  on  what  ?  Search  and  see  ; 
for  nothing  can  comfort  you  in  the  hour  of 
death,  but  having  received  him  into  yom- 
hearts  by  faith  and  love.  You  must  see  Ins 
salvation,  and  be  able  to  keep  the  eye  of  faith 
intent  upon  it,  before  you  can  be  prepared 
to  depart ;  but  when  tins  is  your  hapj.-y  case, 
then,  in  whatever  shape  death  -coiucs,   you 


tioii  ;"  for  all  that  carnc  near  him  were  con- 
vinced that  he  had  sci'ii  it.  Tlieeifects  show- 
ed it.  He  had  ]uit  oii'the  old  man,  and  had 
put  on  the  new;  and  was  under  the  intlu- 
eiice  of  divine  love  to  his  adorable  Saviour. 
'i"he  love  of  Jesus  ruled  in  his  heart,  and 
was  therefore  constantly  uppermost  in  his 
mouth.  He  oved  to  be  telling  of  his  sal- 
vation all  the  day  long.  And  he  did  not 
talk  like  a  [jro.Vssor,  full  of  mere  head-know- 
ledge ;  but  wiiat  he  spake  had  a  warmth, 
and  life,  and  power  in  it,  which  showed  that 
it  came  from  his  heart.  He  was  perfectly 
iidlamed  with  the  love  of  his  divine  Lord 
and  Master ;  and  if  you  sat  any  time  in 
his  company,  you  could  not  help  catching 
some  of  the  holy  (lame.  So  that  if  strangers 
to  his  person  may  doubt  of  his  experience 
of  a  Saviom's  love,  we  who  have  conversed 
with  bun  cannot.  We  are  sure,  from  what 
we  saw  and  heard,  that  he  had  seen  tlie 
salvation  of  (iod,  and  therefore  was  pre- 
pared to  depart.  He  knew  in  whom  he  had 
believed,  and  v.  as  certain  the  power  and  the 
love  of  the  dear  Immanuel  were  in  his  in- 
terest ;  so  that  neither  death,  nor  he  that 
had  the  power  of  death,  coidd  hurt  him. 

A  friend  of  mine  was  much  with  him  on 
the  15th  of  December,  and  the  discourse  turn- 
ed upon  wiiat  Chi-ist  had  done  for  his  sou'. 
Ml'.  Hervey  spake  strongly  and  earnestly  of 
the  assurance  of  his  faith,  and  of  the  great 
love  of  God  in  Cin-ist  to  him.  He  declar- 
ed, that  the  fear  of  death  was  taken  from 
him  :  and  it  afterwards  appeared,  that  death 
had  no  sting  to  hurt,  nor  the  grave  any 
power  to  get  victory  over  him  ;  for  when 
death  came,  it  found  his  mind  in  perfect 
peace.  He  had  no  uneasy  apprehensions 
of  dying,  but  had  hopes  full  of  glory  and 
immortality.  Doubtless  then  he  had  seen 
the  salvation  of  God.  The  knowledge  of 
salvation  h;id  been  precious  to  him  in  life, 
and  therctore  he  experienced  the  piecious- 
ness  of  it  in  death  :  for  then  he  ci.uld  give 
thanks  to  find  forgiving  him  the  victory 
through  J(■^us  Christ  his  Lord,  llaiipyare 
they  to  whom  (iod  has  given  the  knowledga 
of  their  salvation  :  they  believe,  on  good 
grounds,  that  their  Saviour  has  brought 
them  into  a  state  of  salvation  ;  and  there- 
fore they  are  prei)ared  to  meet  death,  yea, 
they  can  desire  and  pray  for  it,  as  Simeon 
did  ;  which  is  the  second  particular  1  was 
to  consider. 

Simeon,  knowing  that  he  was  prepared, 
therefore  desired  to  depart.  And  this  is 
the  believer's  case.  He  longs  for  death, 
not  out  of  an  impatient  discontented  temper, 
!)ut  out   of   a   real   holv   aU'ection.      W'lieu 


676 


A  SERMON  ON 


worldly  meii  are  oppressed  with  troubles  on 
all  sides,  and  see  no  way  to  escape,  they  are 
a])t  to  desire  death,  that  it  may  brnig  their 
misery  to  an  end,  and  put  them  out  of  their 
j)ain  :  And  there  are  some  most  miserable 
and  abject  cowards,  who  murder  themselves 
to  get  rid  of  the  troubles  of  life.  These 
men  court  death  as  a  less  evil ;  but  the  be- 
liever desires  it  as  a  real  blessing.  He 
knows  that  his  death  will  be  to  the  glory  of 
his  Saviour  ;  for  it  grieves  him  to  the  heart, 
that  he  should  ever  do  any  thing  displeasing 
to  such  a  kind  Benefactor.  After  receiv- 
ing so  many  tokens  of  Christ's  love,  oh  ! 
it  is  indeed  afflicting  to  give  him  the  least 
offence.  I  appeal  to  yourselves.  You  that 
have  the  love  of  Jesus  in  yoin-  heaits,  are 
not  you  sorry  that  you  love  him  so  little  ? 
Have  not  you  reason  daily  to  mourn  for  your 
ingratitude  to  him ;  and  wnat  will  such 
thoughts  suggest,  iiut  a  desire  to  be  where 
the  very  occasion  of  offence  will  be  remov- 
ed ?  It  was  on  this  account  that  iMr.  Her- 
vey  desired  death  ;  for  the  last  morning  of 
his  life,  when  his  brother  came  in  to  inquire 
a'ter  his  welfare,  he  said,  "  I  have  been 
thinking  of  my  great  ingratitude  to  my  God. " 
And  these  thoughts  made  him  wish  to  be 
delivered  from  the  bondage  of  corruption, 
into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of 
God. 

And  he  desired  it  as  Simeon  did,  and  all 
believers  do,  upon  another  motive,  namely, 
because  the  Lord  will  get  himself  honour, 
by  the  honour  which  he  will  give  to  his  peo- 
ple in  his  kingdom.  "  He  will  be  glorified," 
says  the  Apostle,  "in  his  saints;"  he  will 
get  himself  glory,  by  the  great  glory  which 
lie  will  bestow  upon  them.  And  as  the 
believer  has  in  all  things  an  eye  to  God's 
glory,  so  has  he  especially  in  his  desires  to 
be  dissolved  and  to  be  with  Christ.  He 
knows  that  God  is  glorified  in  him  and  by 
him  at  present ;  but  then  it  is  imperfectly, 
and  that  grieves  him.  Self,  or  the  creature, 
will  be  trying  to  share  the  heart  with  God, 
and  thereby  to  rob  him  of  his  glory.  A 
bare  thought  of  this,  when  only  rising  in  the 
mind,  hurts  the  believer.  He  would  have 
every  thought  brought  into  subjection  to 
Christ ;  and  that  makes  h;m  desire  to  be 
^vhere  temptation  and  sin  shall  be  no  more, 
and  where  he  shall  glorify  God,  and  God 
shall  be  glorified  in  him  for  ever  and  ever. 
With  this  view,  Mr  Hervey  desired  to  de- 
part. His  great  love  to  his  Saviour's  glory 
made  him  wish  for  death.  He  longed  to  be 
dissolved,  that  he  might  be  freed  from  the 
fiailties  and  irifiimities  of  this  mortal  life, 
under  which  he  laboured,  and  could  not  al- 
ways, nor  in  a  perfect  degree,  promote  the 
glory  of  his  redeeming  God  :  therefore  he 
desired  to  be  with  them  who  follow  tni 
L;im!i  whithersoever  he  goeth,  and  are 
ever  receiving  glory  from  him,  and  evergiv 


ing  glory  to  him.  And  the  Lord  granted 
his  desire  ;  he  liteniljy  answered  his  prayer; 
for  he  departed  in  peace,  according  to  the 
word  of  God,  as  I  purposed  to  siiew  under 
my  third  head. 

What  it  is  to  be  at  peace  with  God,  and 
to  depart  with  a  sense  of  this  peace  upon 
our  minds,  I  cannot  better  exjiress,  than  in 
the  excellent  words  of  the  present  archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  in  his  Nine  Sermons,  p.  ]'S2. 
"  The  peace  of  God  is  that  sense  of  being 
in  friendship  with  him,  that  feeling  of  com- 
fort and  joy  flowing  from  him,  which  pass- 
eth  all  understanding,  exceeds  the  concep- 
tions of  those  who  have  not  experienced  it, 
and  will  exceed  hereafter  the  present  con- 
ceptions of  those  who  have."  And  the  be- 
liever, even  when  he  is  departing  this  life, 
has  a  sense  of  his  being  in  friendship  with 
God,  and  has  a  feeling  of  comfort  and  joy 
flowing  from  him.  This  is  promised  in 
Scripture,  and  this  is  fulfilled  to  them  who, 
being  justified  by  faith,  have  peace  with 
God  ;  being  reconciled  to  the  Father 
through  the  Son  of  his  love,  they  live,  and 
they  die  in  peace. 

I  suppose  some  weak  in  the  faith  are 
thinking  thus  within  themselves  ;  "Well,  is 
it  so,  that  true  believers  die  in  peace  and 
joy  ?  I  am  sure  I  could  not  at  present  ;  for 
I  am  dreadfully  afraid  of  death  :  and  what 
would  not  I  give  to  be  delivered  from  these 
fears,  for  they  make  my  life  miserable  ?" 
My  brethren,  why  are  you  in  bondage  to 
them  ?  God  offers  you  deliverance.  1  here 
are  many  general  promises  in  his  word,  that 
let  what  will  happen  to  believers,  the  peace 
of  God  shall  rule  in  their  hearts.  Thus, 
Isa.  xxvi.  3.  "  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  per- 
fect peace  whose  mind  is  staid  upon  thee." 
And  as  it  is  a  perfect,  so  it  is  a  continual 
peace-  "  The  Lord  of  peace  himself,"  says 
the  apostle,  2  Thess.  iii.  IG,  "  give  you 
peace  always  by  all  means  ;"  for,  after  he 
has  once  given  this  peace,  he  makes  all 
means,  even  the  most  unlikely,  tend  to  the 
promoting  of  it ;  therefore  death  can  by  no 
means  weaken,  and  much  less  desDoy,  this 
peace  of  God.  These  general  promises  he 
fulfilled  to  the  patriarchs  :  for  St  Paul 
says,  Heb.  xi.  13.  "  That  they  all  died  in 
faith  :"  they  acted  faith  in  their  death,  and 
consequently  had  a  sweet  sense  of  the  peace 
of  God  in  their  hearts  when  they  died.  Da- 
vid shews  us  the  reason  of  their  dying  in 
finth.  Psalm  xlviii.  14.  "  This  God  is  oiu- 
God  for  ever  and  ever  :  he  shall  be  our 
guide  even  unto  death."  They  knew  that 
their  God  would  be  with  them  to  guide  an-1 
keep  them,  when  the  body  returned  to  dusc, 
and  the  spirit  returned  to  God  who  guve 
it  :  and  therefore  David  spoke  for  hiiurieU', 
what  each  of  them  also  could  say,  *■'  When 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death  I  will  fear  no  evil,  because  thou  mv 


MR.  HERVEY'S  DEATH. 


67/ 


fTotl  ait  tlien  with  me  ;  thy  rod  and  thy 
stdff  com  (bit  me  even  then,"  Psahn  xxiii.  3. 
With  this  I'jidi,  they  looked  upon  death  as 
(hsariiied  of  its  stiii^  and  power  to  hurt  ; 
and  thcri'lore  they  hiid  down  tlieir  heads, 
and  fell  aslec[)  in  the  arms  of  death,  with 
as  mneli  composure  as  any  weary  traveller 
ever  longed  for  rest.  They  "  fell  asleep." 
'J'lie  Senptuie  speaks  of  their  death  under 
this  heauriful  imaire,  to  teach  us,  that  death 
was  as  sweet  to  them  as  ever  sleep  was  to 
a  hard-labouring  man.  The  faithful  fell 
asleep  quietly  and  composedly.  And  how 
should  It  be  otherwise  ?  they  had  no  evil  to 
fear ;  for  they  were  at  peace  with  God. 
^Viid  « hat  eoukl  deaih  do  to  hurt  that 
peace  ?  It  does  indeed  dissolve  all  other 
lionds,  but  it  strengthens  this.  It  is  the 
happy  instrument  of  fastening  the  bond  of 
jjcace  with  a  tie  which  never,  never  can  be 
dissolved.  And  when  the  faithful  look 
upon  death  in  this  light,  what  is  there  in  it 
but  joy  and  peace,  even  a  joy  unspeakable, 
and  a  peace  that  surpasseth  all  uiideistaiid- 
iiig  ? 

Perhaps  some  of  you  think  this  is  not  al- 
ways the  case  ;  because  there  are  very  good 
men  who  iiave  bad  strong  conflicts  and 
struggles  before  death.  Nay,  my  brethren, 
think  not  so  wickedly  of  God.  Is  it  accord- 
ing to  his  word  that  the  faithful  shall  depart 
ill  peace,  and  do  they  not  ?  ^^'hat !  can  the 
word  of  God  be  broken  ?  No  ;  it  shall 
stand  fast  for  ever  and  ever.  And  in  the 
case  which  you  state,  it  does  not  follow  that 
this  jieace  is  weakened  or  destroyed  because 
it  is  tempted  ;  by  no  means.  The  sense 
of  this  peace  may  remain  when  it  is  most 
furiously  attacked ;  for  it  is  the  peace  of 
God.  God  gave  it,  and  God  keeps  it ;  and 
he  may  suffer  the  devil  to  tempt,  but  not  to 
destroy  it.  The  more  it  is  tempted,  the 
more  honour  redounds  to  God  for  preserv- 
ing it  in  the  fiery  trial.  It  was  more  to 
God's  glory  to  preserve  his  children  in  the 
fiery  furnace,  than  to  have  kept  them  out  of 
it.  Doubtless  be  that  has  the  power  of 
death  will  make  his  last  efforts,  and  try  to 
shake  the  faith  of  a  dying  believer-  The 
devil  will  then  set  ujion  him  with  all  his 
fury,  lint  though  he  be  a  roaring  lion,  yet 
he  is  chained  ;  and  the  almighty  Saviour  so 
overrules  his  malice  and  rage,  that  he  makes 
them  work  together  for  his  glory  and  his 
jieople's  good ;  as  he  did  remarkably  in  the 
last  efforts  which  the  enemy  made  against 
our  dear  brother.  He  saw  him  in  great 
weakness  of  body,  and  then  made  a  furious 
onset  against  his  faith  ;  but  the  dear  Imma- 
luiel  was  with  him,  and  would  not  give  him 
over  into  the  enemy's  liands.  His  faith  was 
tried,  and  it  (•anie  like  gold  out  of  the  fire. 
He  knew  that  it  would  be  tried,  and  had 
therefore  prepared  himself  for  the  fiery  trial. 
iS]Jeaking   of  it    to   u   faithful  minister  of 


Christ,  who  was  often  with  him  in  his  last 
sickness,  he  said,  "  How  many  precious 
texts  are  there,  big  with  the  rich  truths  of 
Christ,  which  we  do  not  comprehend,  which 
we  know  nothing  of  ;  and  of  those  which 
we  do  know,  how  few  do  we  remember  ? 
Bonus  tcxtuarius  est  bonus  theoloyus ,-  and 
that  is  the  armour.  The  word  of  God  is 
the  sword,  these  texts  are  the  wea])ons, 
which  I  must  use  when  that  subtle  spirit, 
that  arch  adversary  of  mankind,  comes  to 
temjjt  and  sift  me  in  my  last  conflict.  Sure- 
ly I  had  need  be  well  jiiovided  with  these 
wea])ons  ;  I  had  need  have  my  quiver  full 
of  them,  to  answer  Satan  with  texts  out  of 
the  word  of  God  when  he  assaults  me." 
Satan  did  assault  him,  but  found  him  jire- 
pared  and  armed.  Mr  Hervey  said  to  his 
friends  the  day  that  he  died,  "  Uh,  you 
know  not  how  great  a  conflict  I  have."  And 
aftei  he  had  sat  for  some  time  with  his  eyes 
constantly  lifted  up  towards  heaven,  and  his 
hands  clasjied  together  in  a  praying  form, 
he  said,  "  Now  this  great  contUct  is  over." 
Jesus  made  him  conqueror  over  all  the 
powers  of  darkness  :  having  endeavoured  to 
rob  him  of  his  ])eace,  but  in  vain,  they  left 
him  in  his  Saviour's  arms,  never  more  to  be 
tempted  ;  and  he  \^■atched  over  him  with  the 
tenderest  love,  until  he  took  him  home. 
And  when  be  went,  he  indeed  dejiarted  in 
peace.  His  body  seemed  to  be  ready  as 
well  as  his  soul.  When  death  came,  he  had 
not  one  struggle  with  it.  'I'here  was  not  a 
single  groan  or  sigh,  or  any  thing  that  could 
shew  the  least  unwillingness  to  depart.  He 
had  such  a  gentle  dismission  as  he  had  pray- 
ed for  in  Simeon's  words.  He  departed  in 
peace,  and  fell  asleep. 

I  have  now  finished  what  I  had  to  offer 
upon  the  three  particulars  mentioned  in  my 
text  ;  and  it  apjiears,  that  when  a  sinner  is 
convinced  of  his  want  of  a  Saviour,  and  is 
convinced  that  Jesus  is  such  a  Saviour  as 
he  wants,  able  and  willing  to  save  to  the  ut- 
termost ;  and  when  he  is  made  to  see  his 
interest  in  the  perfect  complete  righteous- 
ness of  this  adorable  Saviour,  and  is  assured 
of  it  from  the  word  and  Spirit  of  liod,  and 
tioni  the  fruits  of  righteousness  jirodiiced  in 
his  life  and  conversation,  then  he  is  jirejia- 
red  to  die  ;  then  he  may  desire  it  with  sub- 
mission to  God's  will ;  and  whene^•er  death 
conies,  he  may  expect  to  depart  in  peace, 
according  to  the  word  of  God.  '1  hese 
great  truths  I  have  illustrated  from  Scrip- 
ture and  from  experience  ;  more  esj)ecially 
from  the  experience  of  our  dear  brother  now 
with  the  Lord,  of  whom  I  have  spoken  no- 
thing more  than  what  the  words  of  my  text 
uaturally  led  me  to  say.  If  I  were  "to  at- 
temjit  to  draw  the  character  of  this  exelleiit 
man,  I  would  consider  him  in  the  several 
relations  in  wh.ch  he  stood  to  God  and  man, 
and  would  e.\hort  you  to  follow  him,  so  far 


C78 


A  SERMON  ON 


as  lie   followed  Christ.     But  the  compass  |      This  heart-love  to  God  appeared  evkleiii- 
of  this  discourse  will  not  suft'er  me  to  eii-lly  in    every  part  of  his  character.      As   a 


large;  I  can  only  just  obseive  some  parti 
culur  instances,  from  whence  it  will  evident 
ly  appear,  that  he  ha<1  seen  the  salvation  of 
God.  He  had  a  clear  view  of  it  by  th 
eye  of  faith,  and  was  able  to  act  faith  upon 
it  ;  for  his  was  a  faith  working  by  love. 
"  We  love  God,"  says  the  beloved  Apostle, 
"  because  he  first  loved  us  ;"  because  wc 
]<now  by  faith  that  he  first  loved  us :  so 
that  our  Iuve  is  t!ie  reflex  act  of  his  love  to 
us.  And  A/r.  Hervey  had  great  experience 
of  God's  love  to  him,  and  therefore  liis 
heart  was  full  of  love  to  God  ;  and  out  ol 
the  abundance  of  his  heart  his  mouth  spake. 
There  ivas  such  a  sweetness  of  heart-love 
upon  his  tongue,  that  he  used  to  speak  of 
the  love  of  the  adorable  Redeemer,  like  one 
who  had  seen  him  face  to  face  in  the  fulness 
of  his  glory.  He  would,  with  all  the  pow- 
er of  language  and  dignity  of  sentiment, 
speak  for  a  long  time  together  in  praise  of 
the  ever-blessed  Saviour.  But  you  might 
plainly  see,  though  every  body  else  was 
])leased,  yet  he  was  not  satisfied  with  what 
be  had  said.  He  thought  he  had  not  said 
enough,  and  what  he  bad  said  fell  far  below 
his  Lord's  merit.  But  still  he  would  try 
again,  and  indeed  was  never  weary.  You 
could  not  hear  him  speak,  for  any  time, 
upon  this  his  favourite  subject,  without  be- 
ing convinced  that  he  felt  what  he  said ; 
and  if  you  had  any  love  of  God  when  you 
went  into  his  company,  his  conversation 
would  intiame  it-  He  had  an  excellency 
which  I  never  sav/  to  so  great  a  degree  in 
any  other  person  :  He  never  let  an  0})por- 
iu:iity  slip  of  speaking  of  the  love  of  Christ. 
He  would  take  occasion  from  the  most 
common  incident,  and  yet  it  would  not  ap- 
pear forced  ;  for  he  had  a  wonderful  talent 
at  spiritualizing  and  improving  whatever 
hajipened  about  him  ;  by  which  means  he 
hindered  the  conversation  from  turning 
upon  trilling  matters,  and  at  the  same  time 
kept  it  up  with  spirit  and  usefulness.  Ha- 
ving set  the  Lord  alvvay;?  before  him,  he  saw 
the  love  of  God  in  every  thing  ;  aud  there- 
i'ore  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  that  all  ob- 
jects and  events  should  give  him  occasion 
to  speak  of  it.  In  his  last  sickness,  it  con- 
tiimed  still  to  be  his  favourite  theme;  for 
wiienever  my  friend,  who  was  much  with 
him,  catne  into  the  room,  he  would  begin  to 
talk  of  the  love  of  Christ,  and  of  the  great 
things  which  Christ  had  done  for  him,  until 
iiis  breath  failed  him  ;  and  as  soon  as  he 
Isad  recovered  himself  a  little,  he  would 
])r(;cee(l  upon  the  same  sweet  suliject -.  so 
that  he  might  have  truly  applied  to  himself 
the  words  of  the  prophet,  "  IViy  mouth 
shall  be  telling  of  thy  righteousness  and  of 
thy  salv.ituMi  all  the  day  loiig  for  i  know 
jio  end  tiieiv'cf.' 


minister,  his  faith  wrought  by  love  to  the 
souls  of  men  in  all  the  offices  of  his  func- 
tion. While  his  health  ])ermitted  him,  he 
watched  like  a  faithful  shej)herd  over  his 
tlock.  He  used  to  visit  them  ^'ro.m  house 
to  house,  aiul  to  speak  freely  to  tliesn  of  the 
state  of  their  souls  ;  and  when  the  weak- 
ness of  his  body  obliged  him  to  drop  these 
religious  visits,  he  would  often  grieve  that 
he  could  not  be  more  useful,  and  would 
speak  with  great  concern  and  uneasiness  of 
his  not  being  able  to  preach  oftener,  and  to 
do  more  for  Christ.  In  the  pulpit,  he  was 
fervent  and  earnest  with  his  people,  and 
would  often  exert  himself  beyond  his 
strength  :  for  he  preached  the  great  doc- 
trines of  salvation  as  one  who  had  expe- 
rienced the  power  of  them.  It  was  mani- 
fest to  all  who  heard  him,  that  he  felt  what 
he  spake.  And  when  we  speak  what  we 
know,  and  testify  wliat  we  have  seen,  then 
God  blesses  this  experimental  preaching. 
He  puts  a  divine  power  and  energy  into  it, 
and  renders  it  eflectual  to  awaken  siimers, 
to  comfort  them  that  mourn  for  sin,  and  to 
edify  and  build  up  the  faithful.  Mr.  Her- 
vey had  many  hapjjy  proofs  of  the  useful- 
ness of  his  preaching  for  each  of  these 
purposes;  and  therefore  he  did  not  think  it 
enougii  to  preach  once  a-week  on  the  Lord's 
day,  but  he  set  up  a  weekly  lecture  at 
Weston- Fa  veil,  which  was  very  well  attend- 
ed, and  was  blessed  to  many  of  his  neigh- 
bours, who  will  be  his  glory  and  crown  of 
rejoicing  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  at  his  coming. 

He  did  not  forget  that  he  was  a  minister 
in  his  own  house  ;  for  he  called  his  family 
together  twice  a  day  to  serve  God.  It  was 
his  custom  in  the  evening,  after  the  servants 
had  read  the  Psalms,  and  the  second  lesson, 
to  explain  some  part  of  what  had  been  read. 
In  this  exercise  he  would  sometimes  dv.'eli 
for  half  an  hour  ;  and  when  he  met  with  a 
sweet  passnge  upon  the  love  of  (Jhrist,  I 
have  heard  him  speak  for  three  quarters  of 
an  hour,  and  then  he  concluded  witli  prayer. 

In  the  morning,  when  the  fiiuiily  were 
met  together  he  used  to  ask  the  servants, 
"  Well  !  where  was  our  text  last  night  ?" 
And  after  ihjy  they  had  repeated  it,  he 
made  them  give  an  account  of  what  had 
been  said  upon  it ;  and  then  he  would  re- 
peat and  eutbrce  his  last  night's  discourse, 
concluding  with  prayer. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  he  was  called 
down  to  tea,  he  used  to  bring  his  Hebrew 
Bible,  or  Greek  Testament  with  him,  and 
would  either  speak  upon  one  verse,  or  upon 
several  verses,  as  occasion  ofTered.  This 
was  generally  an  improving  season.  The 
giory  of  God  is  very  seldom  j)rou)otcd  at 
t!ie  tea-table  ;  but  it  was  at  I\lr.   Hervey's. 


MR.   HERVEY'S  DEATH. 


679 


Prinking  tea  with  him  v;as  like  being  at  an  '  he  ahideth  in  him,  ought  himself  also  to  walk 


ordinance  ;  for  it  was  sanctitied  by  tlie  word 
of  God  and  prayer. 

As  a  member  of  society,  his  faith  wrought 
abundantly  by  love  to  his  iieiglibour :  for 
he  was  full  of  good  works.  His  charities 
t')  tlie  poor  were  very  large  ;  and  that  he 
might  i)e  hijeral  to  them,  he  was  very  fru- 
gal in  his  own  expenses.  He  ..•hose  rather 
to  cloths  the  poor,  than  to  give  them  mo- 
ney. He  v'.sed  to  get  some  judicious  person 
to  buy  linen,  coarse  cloth,  stockings,  shoes, 
i^:c.  for  them  at  the  best  hand,  alleging  that 
the  poor  could  not  buy  so  good  a  commodity 
at  the  little  shops,  and  with  driblets  of  mo- 
ney. "  I  am  God's  steward,"  says  he,  "  for 
his  poor,  and  I  must  husband  the  little  pit- 
tance I  have  to  bestow  upon  them,  and 
make  it  go  as  far  as  possible."  But  where 
money  would  be  particularly  serviceable  to 
a  family  long  afflicted  with  sickness,  or  to 
a  prudent  housekeeper  who  had  met  with 
great  losses  in  trade,  he  would  give  five, 
ten,  or  tifteen  guineas  at  a  time,  taking  care 
it  should  not  be  known  irom  whence  the 
money  came. 


even  as  he  walked,"  1  .lohn  ii.  6.  Mr. 
Hervey  walked  very  close  after  Christ ;  and 
found  that  the  belief  of  Chiist's  righteous- 
ness being  imputed  to  him  for  his  jnstilica- 
tioii,  was  so  far  from  being  a  licentious  doc- 
trine, that  it  inspired  him  with  the  noblest 
motives  to  a  grateful  obedience.  His  holy 
life  was  an  excellent  recommendation  of  his 
principles  ;  for  I  never  saw  one  who  came 
up  so  near  to  the  Scripture  character  of  a 
Christian.  God  had  enriched  him  with  great 
gifts,  and  with  great  graces,  and  had  made 
him  numble  -.  for  he  was  humbled  by  the 
power  of  grace.  He  had  been  a  very  vain. 
])iou(l  young  man  but  the  grace  of  God 
emptied  him  of  pride  and  self,  and  clothed 
him  with  humility.  Having  put  on  Christ, 
he  had  put  on  with  him  the  ornament  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  appeared  in  his 
great  patience  and  resignation  to  the  « ill  of 
God.  He  had  some  very  sharp  trials  of  his 
faith  and  patience,  both  from  God  and  from 
men  ;  and  he  learned  obedience  by  the  things 
v.hich  he  suffered.  It  was  very  remarkable, 
that,  in  his  long  illness,  he  was  never  known 
He  gave  away  a  great  number  of  good  to  fret  or  be  uneasy ;  nor  did  the  persons 
licoks,  with  suitable  instructions  for  their  about  him  ever  hear  one  angry,  or  one  hasty 
use,  and  especially  Bibles.  In  the  blank  word  come  out  of  his  mouth, 
leaf,  he  frequently  wrote  something  striking,  I  The  same  principle  of  faith  working  by 
or  else  stuck  in  a  printed  paper,  lelating  to  love  was  manifest  in  his  studies,  which  he 
the  promises  of  God  in  and  through   Jesus   directed  to  the  glory  of  God.     He  was  once 


Christ- 


ja  great   reader  of  the   Greek  and   Roman 


Mr.  Hervey's  income  was  but  small,  and  authors,  and  his  writings  shew  that  he  had 

it   may  be  wondered   how   he   managed    it  a  good  taste  for  classical   learnins- ;  but  for 

so  well  as  to  have  such   sums  to   spare   for  some  years  past   he  chiefly  applied  himself 

charitable  uses  ;  but  what  money  was  left  to  the  study  of  the  sacred  Scri])tures.  God 
after  the  family  expenses  were  paid,  and  all ,  had  blessed  him  with  a  fine  understanding, 
the    profits    arising  from   the    sale   of    his  i  and  a  great  memory,  which  he  exercised  in 

books,  which  was  a  very  considerable   sum,  reading  the  Bible  in  the  oriirinal  languages. 

he  gave  away  in  charity.      He  made  of  it  a  He  was   very  well   skilled   in   the  Hebrew, 

bank  for  the  poor.     "  And  thi''."  says  he,  and  was  an  excellent  critic  in  the  Greek, 

"  I  have  devoted  to  God.      1  will  on  no  ac-  and  was  a  scribe  instructed  unto   the  king, 

count  apply  it  to  any  v.orldly  uses.      I  write  dom  of  heaven,  who,  like  unto  a  man  that  is 

not  for  i)rofit  or  for  fame,  but  to  serve  the  an  householder,   briugeth   forth  out   of  his 

cause  of  God  ;  and   as  he  has   blessed  my  treasure   things  new   and  old.      He  had   a 

attempt,  I  think  myself  bound  to  relieve  the  great  veneration  for  this  treasure  of  the  Old 

distresses  of   my  fellow-creatures   with  the  and  New  Testaments.      He  used  to  talk  of 


profit  that  comes  from  this  quarter."  And 
he  is  still  relieving  them.  He  was  not  will- 
ing that  his  charities  should  die  with  him;  for 
he  ordered  all  the  profit  arising  from  thi:  fu- 
ture  sale  of  his  books,  to  be  constantly  ap- 


them  in  the  highest  terms,  next  to  that  ador- 
able Person  of  whom  they  treat.  They  were 
sweeter  to  him  than  honey  and  the  ho- 
ney-comb ;  and  so  they  will  be  to  every  one 
who  reads  them,  as  he  did,  with  faith.  Who- 


plied  to  charitable  uses.  Thus,  having  beii.v-   ever  can  act  faith  upon  the  exceeding  great 


ed  in  God,  he  was  careful  to  maintain  good 
works,  knowing  that  these  things  are  good 
and  profitable  unto  men. 

In  his  private  life,  he  was  iiu'ler  the  in- 
fluence of  the  same  faith,  working  l.iy  love 
to    the    will   and   commandments   of  God.. 


id  precious  promises  contained  in  the 
sacred  volume,  will  find  so  mueli  sweetness 
in  it,  that  he  will  have  but  little  relish  left 
for  other  books. 

As    to    his    wr'.ting.s,    I    leave    them  to 
speak  for  themselves.       They   stand  in  no 


His  holy  wrdking  was  very  examplaiy.  Vriiat  need  of  my  ])raises.  They  arc  in  the  hands 
he  said,  in  words,  concerning  his  interest  in  '  of  the  jiuhlic,  and  eveiy  reader  will  form 
the  Redeemer's  righteousness,  he  jiioved  by  ■  his  own  judgment.  Uh  that  the  Spikit  of 
his  actions  ;  for  lie  was  very  sensible  of  the  the  living  (iod  may  direct  it,  that  wlioever 
importance  of  this  bcrijKure,  "  He  that  saiUi '  reads  his   writings  ly.ny  leant  to  have  I'U 


680 


A  SERMON  ON 


confidence  in  tlie  flesh,  out  to  make  men- 
tion of  Jehovah's  righteousness,  even  of  his 
only  ! 

The  time  would  fail  me,  if  I  viras  to  en- 
large upon  all  the  particulars  of  his  life  and 
death.  That  viras  not  my  design  :  I  only 
intended  briefly  to  relate  some  things,  from 
whence  a  tolerable  judgment  might  be  form- 
ed of  Mr.  Hervey's  character.  But  I  can- 
not finish  without  taking  notice  of  the  last 
scene  of  his  life,  which  was  very  triumph- 
ant and  glorious.  The  last  and  great  trial 
of  his  faith  was  more  precious  than  that  of 
gold  which  perisheth.  Its  preciousness 
never  appeared  more  than  in  the  hour  of 
death  ;  for  then  he  evidently  saw  by  faith, 
and  apprehended  the  salvation  of  God,  and 
could  rejoice  in  a  clear  view  of  his  own  in- 
terest in  it.  When  Dr.  Stonehouse  savv 
him  for  the  last  time,  namely  on  Christ- 
mas-day, about  two  hours  before  he  expir- 
ed, Mr.  Hervey  pressed  home  upon  Jiini 
his  everlasting  concerns,  in  the  most  affec- 
tionate manner;  telling  him,  that  here  is 
no  abiding  place,  and  begging  of  him  to  at- 
tend, amidst  the  multiplicity  of  his  busi- 
ijess,  to  the  one  thing  needful. 

The  Doctor,  seeing  the  great  difficulty 
and  pain  with  which  he  spoke,  (for  he  was 
almost  suffocated  with  phlegm  and  freqneiit 
vomitings,)  and  finding  by  his  pulse  that 
the  pangs  of  death  were  then  coming  on. 
desired  that  he  would  spare  himself. 
"  No,"  says  he,  "  Doctor ;  No.  You  tell 
me  I  have  but   a  few  moments   to  live  ; 

0  let  me  spend  them  in  adoring  our  great 
Redeemer.  Though  my  flesh  and  my 
heart  fail  me,  yet  God  is  the  strength  of 
afiy  heart,  and  my  portion  for  ever."  He 
then  expatiated  in  the  most  striking  man- 
ner upon  these  words  of  St.  Paul,  1  Cor. 
iii.  22,  2.3.  "  All  things  are  yours,  life  and 
death  :  for  ye  are  Christ's."  "  Here,"  says 
he,  "  is  the  treasure  of  a  Christian.  Death 
is  reckoned  among  this  inventory;  and  a 
noble  treasure  it  is.  How  thankful  am  I 
for  death,  as  it  is  the  passage  through  which 

1  pass  to  tlie  Lord  and  giver  of  eternal  life  ; 
und  as  it  frees  me  from  all  this  misery  you 
'»ow  see  me  endure,  and  which  I  am  will- 
ing to  endLiie  ac  long  as  God  thinks  fit ! 
for  1  know  he  v.'ili,  by  and  by,  in  his  own 
good  time,  dismiss  me  from  the  body. 
These  light  afflictions  are  liut  for  a  moment, 
and  then  comes  an  eternal  v>'eight  of  glory. 
Oh  welcome,  welcome  death  !  Thou  may- 
est  well  be  reckoned  atnong  the  treasures 
of  the  Christian.  To  live  is  Christ,  but 
to  die  is  gain." 

After  which,  as  the  Doctor  was  taking 
his  final  leave  of  him,  Mr.  Hervey  express, 
td  great  gratitude  for  his  visits,  though  it 
had  been  long  out  of  the  power  of  medi- 
cine to  cure  him.  He  then  paused  a  little, 
and  with  great  serenity   and  oweetness  in 


his  countenance,  though  the  pangs  of  death 
were  then  on  him,  repeated  these  triumph- 
ant words  : 

"  Lord,  nowlettest  thou  thy  servant  depart 
in   peace,  according   to  thy  most  holy  and 
comfortable  word  :   for  mine  eyes  have  seen 
thy   precious   salvation.      Here,   Doctor,   is 
my  cordial.      What  are  all   cordials   to  the 
dying,  compared  to  the  salvation  of  Christ  ? 
Tliis,  this   supi)orts   me."     He  found    this 
supporting  him  in  his  last  moments,  atid  de- 
clared it  by  saying,  twice  or  thrice.  Precious 
salvation  !  and  then  leaning  his  head  against 
the  side  of  the  easy-chair  in  which  he  sat, 
lie  shut  his  eyes,  and  fell  asleep.      O  preci- 
ous salvation  !   how  precious  must  it  be  to 
the  dying  man,  who,    interested    in    it,  can 
thank  God  for  death,  and   reckon  it  among 
his  riches  ;  who,   supported  by  faith  in  the 
salvation  of  God,  can  account  it  his  gain  to 
die  ;  and  can  gladly  s.iy.  Oh  welcome,  wel- 
come death  !      May  tiiis  faith  support  you, 
my  brethren,  when  all  other  supports   fail, 
and  make  salvation  as  precious  to  you  as  it 
was  to  Mr.  Hervey  !  and  of  this  you   may 
be  assured,  that  what  the  Lord  did  for  hmi, 
he  is  able  also  to  do  for  you.      He  was  in- 
deed a  glorious  instance  of  the   power  of 
grace  ;  for  by  the  grace  of  God  he  was  what 
he  was.      And  grace  is  free  ;  as  free  for  you 
as  it  was  for  him  ;  able  also   to  make   you 
live  and  die  as  much  to  the  glory  of  God  as 
lie  did.      He  was  truly  a  burning  and   shin- 
ing light ;  but  the  Lord's  hand  is  not  shor- 
tened.     It  can  make  your  light  shine  also 
before  men,  and   enable   you   to  adorn   the 
doctrine  of  God  your   Saviour   as   much  as 
Mr.  Hervey  did.      And  the  great  use  to  be 
made  of  his  example  is,    to  stir  you   up   to 
glorify  God  for  the  gifts  and  graces  bestow- 
ed   upon    him,    and    to    desire    the    same 
may  be   bestowed   upon   you.      With   this 
view  I  shall  ai)ply  it. 

First,  To  those  persons  who  have  never 
seen  the  salvation  of  God,  and,  consequent- 
ly, are  not  prepared  to  depart  in  peace ;  and 
these  are  all  careless  sinners,  who  live  se- 
cure in  the  wilful  commission  of  sin.  Mr. 
Hervey  knew,  that  whenever  the  Lord 
should  call  him  out  of  this  life,  he  should  be 
found  iii  Christ,  not  having  his  own  righte- 
ousness, which  is  of  the  law  but  that  which 
is  through  the  Imth  of  Christ,  the  righteous- 
ness which  is  of  God  by  faith  ;  and,  clothed 
in  this  righteousness,  he  was  certain  that  he 
should  appear  at  tlie  bar  of  Justice  without 
spot  of  sin,  unto  eternal  salvation.  But 
this  is  not  your  experience.  Nay,  you  have 
never  been  awakened  to  desire  it.  You  have 
never  been  humblea  unoer  a  sense  of  your 
lost  condition,  nor  broken  down  under  a 
conviction  of  your  helplessness  :  so  that  you 
have  never  seen  your  want  ot  a  Saviour  ; 
and,  consequently,  have  never  seen  the  sal- 
vation of  oiu"  God.      If  you  enurtdin  any 


MR.   HERVEY'S  DEATH. 


681 


hopes  of  departing  in  peaoe,  while  you  are 
in  this  state,  you  are  of  all  men  the  most 
deceived  ;  for  when  death  comes,  it  will 
fnitl  you  in  your  sins  unpardoned,  without 
any  i'aith  in  the  Redeemer's  righteousness 
to  niiike  death  des;rah!e,  but  with  every 
thing  that  can  make  it  terrible.  The  holy, 
just,  and  good  law  of  the  most  high  God 
will  accuse,  conscience  will  plead  guilty,  jus- 
tice will  condemn  and  punish,  and  the  wrath 
«f  God  will  abide  upon  you  for  ever  and 
ever.  How  is  it  possible  you  should  depart 
in  peace,  unless  you  die  insensible  ?  and  tiiat 
would  be  dreadful  indeed.  If  sin  should  so 
far  infatuate  you,  tiiat  you  never  awake  out 
of  its  delusive  slumbers  until  you  are  called 
to  receive  the  wages  of  sin,  oil  think  what 
sort  of  a  peace  you  speak  to  yourselves  ; 
since  it  leaves  you  in  the  greatest  danger, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  insensible  of  it.  To 
dejiart  in  such  a  false  peace,  would  be  your 
everlasting  destruction.  Oh,  sirs,  consider 
then  what  a  delusion  you  are  under  !  The 
wrath  of  an  offended  God  abideth  on  you, 
the  curses  of  his  broken  law  hang  over  your 
guilty  heads,  and  you  are  liable  to  the  ven- 
geance of  his  almighty  justice  ;  and  yet  you 
think  yourselves  safe.  You  are  saying, 
Peace,  peace,  while  all  the  jiowers  in  heaven 
and  earth  are  at  war  with  you,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment you  may  be  cut  off,  and  delivered  over 
to  the  tormentors  :  and  then  you  will  have 
a  sad  and  eternal  experience  of  that  awful 
threatening,  "  There  is  no  peace,  saith  my 
Ciod,  to  the  wicked." 

Men  and  brethren,  ^hat  do  you  say  to 
these  things  ?  Are  they  true,  or  are  they 
not  '.  If  they  be  true,  why  are  you  not  in- 
fluenced by  them  ?  And  if  you  think  them 
not  true,  why  do  you  make  any  profession 
of  the  Christian  religion  ?  why  do  you  come 
to  the  house  of  God  to  attend  u[)on  his  or- 
dinances? Your  appearance  here  ranks  you 
among  professors  ;  and,  if  you  keep  up  the 
form,  without  the  power  of  godliness,  I  have 
for  yon,  in  the  neamd  place,  a  word  of  rcj)roof. 

There  have  arisen,  in  the  hitter  days, 
mockers,  who  pretend  to  ridicule  the  see- 
ing of  the  salvation  of  God,  and  the  being 
thereiiy  prejiared  to  dej)art  in  peace- 
Possibly  there  may  be  soine  such  amongst 
US  to-day,  vvho  laugh  at  all  vital  and  exper- 
imental religion.  If  there  be,  I  would  a^k 
them,  whether  the  Scii])ture  has  not  pro- 
jnised  deliverance  fr,)ni  the  fear  of  death  ? 
Is  it  not  written  (Heb.  xi.  15.)  "  That 
(jhrist  came  to  deliver  them  w  ho  through 
fear  of  death  were  all  their  lifetime  subject 
to  bondage?"  Observe,  they  were  in  bon- 
dage to  the  fear  of  death,  but  Clhrist  came 
to  deliver  them.  And  did  not  lie  attain 
the  end  for  which  be  came  ?  Most  certain- 
ly he  did.  "  I  have  linished,"  says  he  to 
bis  Father,  "the  work  which  thou  gavcsi 
nie  to  do."      Now  it  «as  part  of  the  work 


to  deliver  hi.s  people  from  the  fear  of  death, 
iind  as  the  work  was  fitiished,  consequently 
they  are  delivered.  And  they  siiy  they  are. 
They  attest  it;  and  they  have  given  the 
most  convincing  proofs  of  their  having  con- 
(piered  all  fear  of  death  ;  they  have  Ifceii 
afflicted,  tormented,  stoned,  sawn  asunder, 
put  on  the  rack  ;  and  yet  they  would  not 
accept  deliverance,  because  they  were  sun* 
of  obtaining  a  better  resurrection.  And  of 
these  there  have  not  been  two  or  three  on- 
ly, but  a  noble  and  numerous  army,  yea,  a 
great  multitude,  whom  no  man  could  num- 
ber ;  and  glory  be  to  God,  it  is  an  increas- 
ing multitude  !  there  are  some  who  daily 
depart  in  peace,  aiul  there  are  hundreds, 
thousands,  now  alive,  who  are  wailing  for 
their  departure  with  hopes  full  of  immor- 
tality. And  why  should  you  think  they 
will  be  disappointed  of  their  hope  ?  Will 
Christ  break  his  word  ?  Can  his  promise 
fail  ?  No  :  his  word  and  his  promise  shall 
be  established,  when  heaven  and  earth  shall 
be  no  more;  and  until  the  [ilace  of  them 
shall  not  be  found,  the  Lord  will  always 
have  such  witnesses  of  the  truth  of  the 
doctrine  in  my  text,  as  Mr.  Hervey.  who 
will  depart  this  life  in  the  triumph  of  faith. 
Against  these  plain  facts  what  can  you 
object  ?  They  are  founded  upon  the  cltar 
promises  of  Scripture,  which  are  literally 
fulfilled  at  this  very  day  ;  and  you  can  have 
no  pretence  to  reject  their  autt-.ority  unless 
you  run  into  downright  scepticism,  and  de- 
ny the  authority  of  the  holy  Scri])tures. 
It  any  of  you  have  arrived  at  this  pitch  of 
ridicule,  I  shall  not  reason  with  you  at  jire- 
sent.  Let  the  day  decide  the  jioint.  If 
death  does  not,  judgment  will.  You  wiil 
I  be  forced  to  be  tried  by  that  book  which 
{  you  reject,  and  by  that  Judge  whom  ymi 
j  have  insulted  and  vilified.  (>  that  you  may 
be  convinced  of  your  error  before  it  be  too 
.  late  !  May  God  open  your  eyes  to  see 
your  guilt  and  your  danger,  that  you  may 
sue  for  mercy  along  with  them  who  are 
seeking  the  e.\i>erieiice  of  the  doctrine  in 
my  text ;  to  whom  I  have,  in  the  ildid 
place,  a  word  of  comfort. 

I  suppose  there  are  many  persons  here, 
who  find  the  sting  of  death  in  their  guilty 
consciences,  and  who  therefore  desire  to  be 
delivered  from  the  fear  and  from  the  jiower 
of  death.  My  hietliren,  there  is  a  glorious 
Deliverer,  who  has  in  his  own  person  con- 
(piered  death,  and  him  that  had  the  power 
of  death  ;  and  he  is  able  to  make  you  con- 
querors. His  power  is  almighty,  for  he  is 
the  Lord  God  omnipotent ;  and  he  is  an 
all-loving  Saviour,  who  is  more  ready  to 
give,  than  you  are  to  ask,  his  promised  hcl|). 
Since  he  has  shown  you  your  want  of  it, 
askandyoushall  have, seek. -ind you  shall  liml. 
You  do  seek,  you  siy,  hut  it  is  with 
many  doubts   and  fears.       Of  what  do  you 


682 

doubt  ?  Of  Christ's  power,  or  of  Christ's 
love?  He  can  deliver  you.  All  things 
are  possible  to  him,  because  all  pov.er  in 
heaven  and  earth  is  in  his  hands.  And  he 
is  a  God  of  love  ;  he  has  shewed  mercy  to 
the  greatest  of  sinners,  and  has  shed  his 
love  abroad  in  their  hearts.  He  has  given 
them  faith  to  see  their  interest  in  him,  and 
then  they  were  happy  living  or  dying  ;  for 
whether  they  lived,  they  lived  unto  the 
Lord  ;  or  whether  they  died,  they  died  un- 
to the  Lord  :  so  that  living  and  dying,  they 
were  the  Lord's. 

True,  say  you,  I  believe  this  was  the 
happy  case  of  Mr.  Hervey,  and  of  miuiy 
others  ;  but  I  am  full  of  doubts  and  fears, 
because  I  am  such  an  unworthy  creature 
that  I  do  not  deserve  any  mercy.  Nor  did 
they;  God  did  not  treat  them  upon  the 
footing  of  desert  ;  what  he  gave  them  was 
mere  bounty,  flowing  from  the  riches  of  his 
unmerited  love.  That  is  the  way  in  which 
he  bestows  his  great  salvation.  All  the 
blessings  of  it  are  free,  as  free  for  one  sinner 
as  for  another.  None  are  excluded  because 
they  are  great  sinners  ;  Paul  found  mercy  : 
and  none  are  rejected  because  of  their  un- 
worthiness  ;  IMary  Magdalen  wms  pardoned  ; 
and  why  may  not  you  ?  For  all  the  gifts  of 
God  flow  from  his  free  grace,  and  are  be- 
stowed upon  unworthy  sinners  ;  and  if  yon 
are  one  of  them,  you  are  a  proper  object  to 
receive  the  blessings  of  free  grace  ;  and  the 
sense  of  your  u;iworthiness  should  make 
you  more  earnest  in  asking,  but  it  is  no  bar 
to  your  receiving,  all  the  blessings  of  salva- 
tion ;  fur  Jesus  Christ  assures  us  in  his 
\yord,  "  that  he  came  to  seek  and  to  save 
that  which  was  lost ;"  such  lost  sinners  as 
you  are. 

Thus  you  see  uhat  encouragement  you 
have  to   believe    in    God.       You    K.-.ve    his 


A  SERMON  ON 


days  of  your  lives.     Give  evidence  of  ibe^ 

sincerity  of  your  love,  as  your  Lord  requires, 
"  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments  :" 
Keep  near  to  me  in  my  ways,  and  v^alk  close 
with  me  in  mine  ordinances,  and  you  will 
not  only  thereby  give  proof  of  your  love, 
but  it  will  also  grow  exceedingly ;  and  as  it 
grows,  your  desire  to  depart  will  grow  with 
it ;  for  when  the  love  of  Christ  rules  in  the 
heart,  you  will  be  ready,  yea,  you  will  desire 
to  (iepa-t,  anu  to  be  with  him.  This  was 
the  happy  experience  of  our  deceased  bro- 
ther ;  and  let  his  example  stir  you  up  to 
great  care  and  watchfulness  in  your  holy 
walking  heavenwards,  that  your  faith  may 
be  always  working  by  love  as  his  did.  Con- 
sider the  graces  of  his  life,  and  seek  the 
same.  Stop  not  short,  but  try  to  get  be- 
yond him.  Consider  his  death.  Remem- 
ber with  what  perfect  assurance  he  spake 
of  his  interest  in  Christ,  and  what  strong 
proofs  he  gave  of  it  ;  and  then  pray  that 
your  faith  may  stand  as  unshaken  as  his  was 
in  that  great  time  of  trial.  And,  above  all* 
forget  not  what  sup])orted  him  in  his  last 
moments  ;  it  was  the  clear  view  he  had  of 
his  interest  in  the  great  salvation  of  God  : 
"  This,  this,"  says  he,  "  supports  me,"  now 
at  the  approach  of  death  I  Oh  how  preci- 
ous did  salvation  then  appear  to  him,  when 
he  found  death  coming  disarmed,  and  with- 
oat  a  sting  !  and  it  grew  still  more  preci- 
ous, when,  with  his  last  breath,  he  declared,, 
that  death  had  no  power  to  hurt  the  ])caeQ 
of  God  which  ruled  in  his  heart ;  for  even 
then  he  found  salvation  precious.  You 
need  not  fear,  my  brethren,  but  this  will  be 
yoar  happy  experience.  God  has  given  you 
the  knowledge  of  salvation,  by  the  remis- 
sion of  your  sins  ;  and  as  your  faith  grows 
exceedingly,  salvation  will  grow  exceeding- 
ly precious.  The  greater  experience  you 
word  and  his  promise  to  rely  upon;  you  I  hereby  get  of  the  love  of  Christ,  the  more, 
have  the  testimony  of  God's  people,  declar-|will  you  be  supported  under  the  trials  of 
ing  that  they  were  once  as  you  are,  afraid  of  i  life,    and   the    better    prepared  for   the  tri 


death,  but  now  Christ  has  taken  away  the 
fear  of  it.  They  have  seen  the  salvation  of 
God,  and  kiiow  by  faith  that  all  the  bless- 
ings of  it  are  freely  given  them  in  Christ 
Jesus  ;   therefore  they  are  ready,  they  desire 


ais  of  death.  You  will  find,  that  the.- 
sweet  sense  of  Christ's  love  in  the  heart 
will  enable  you  to  rejoice  in  suffering,  and 
then  you  need  not  fear  but  it  will  enable 
you  to  rejoice  in   the   sufferings   of  death. 


to  depart.      May  the  tender  mercies  of  our  ;  For  who  or  what  shall   separate  believers 


God  bring  every  one  of  you  into  this  happy 
state  !  And  to  those  who  are  already  in  it  I 
make  my  fourth  remark. 

My  Christian  friends  and  brethren,  you 
I'.ave  seen  the  salvation  of  God,  and  ^:re  de- 
livered from  the  fear  of  death  ;  what  return 
will  yon  make  unto  the  Lord  for  all  the  be- 
nefits Vihicli  he  hath  done  unto  you?  Cer- 
tainly you  will  not  forget  the  great  things 
which  he  has  already  given  you,  and  the 
greater  things  for  which  you  are  waiting ; 
and  let  these  considerations  consti'ain  you  to 
hive  this  divine  benefactor,  and  to  serve  him 
without  fear,  in  an  holy  obedience,  all  the 


from  the  love  of  Christ  ?  Shall  the  troubles 
of  life,  or  the  pains  of  death  ?  shall  tri- 
bulation, or  distress,  or  persecution,  or, 
famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril,  or  sworn? 
No  ;  in  all  these  things  we  are  more  than 
conquerors  through  him  that  loved  us. 
"  2\iuve  tliiui  conquerors  !"  O  glorious  war- 
fare !  in  which  believers  not  only  conquer 
their  enemies,  but  also  reap  iimuiuerahle 
and  endless  blessings  to  themselves.  Even 
death  is  to  them  a  real  blessing ;  they  ex- 
pect it,  they  find  it  so,  and  they  aie  more 
than  conquerors  over  it,  tlirouuh  him  tirat 
loved  thciu. 


MR.   HERVEY'S  DEATH. 


6S3 


In  tTie  last  place,  I  must  put  you  all  in 
rcmembranre,  that  neither  the  words  of  my 
text,  nor  what  has  been  said  upon  them, 
will  be  of  any  benefit  without  a  blessing 
from  God.  We  cannot  see  his  salvation 
with  the  eye  of  faith,  nor  experience  the 
power  of  it,  without  the  help  of  his  grace. 
It  is  from  him,  who  has  done  all  for  us, 
that  all  must  be  done  in  us  ;  and  if  some 
good  impressions  have  been  made  this  day 
upon  any  of  your  hearts,  they  will  soon 
wear  away,  unless  he  preserve  and  strength- 
en them.  If  3'ou  desire  at  present  to  live 
]\Ir.  Hervey's  life,  and  to  die  his  death,  this 
desire  will  be  ineffectual,  unless  it  be  carried 
into  act  by  the  mighty  working  of  God's 
Spirit :  He  is  all  in  all.  For  which  rea- 
son we  always  begin  and  always  end  the 
hearing  of  the  word  with  prayer  :  being  as- 
sured, that  if  Paul  should  plant  and  Apollos 
should  water,  yet  it  would  be  to  no  purpose, 
unless  God  should  give  the  increase.  Oh  ! 
that  it  may  be  abundant  his  day  to  his 
gloiy,  and  to  the  good  of  yoiu:  souls.  To 
that  end  let  us  pray : — 

O  almighty  and  most  merciful  God,  we 
humbly  beseech  thee  to  look  down  M'ith 
mercy  upon  this  congregation,  and  to  bless 


the  words  which  we  have  heard  this  day 
with  our  outward  ears.  IVIake  them  the 
means  of  opening  the  blind  eyes  which  have 
never  seen  their  want  of  thy  salvation. 
Lord,  enlighten  them,  and  help  them  to 
seek,  until  they  find  pardon  and  peace  in 
thee.  Be  gracious  to  those  who  are  now 
waiting  upon  thee,  believing  that,  after  they 
have  seen  thy  salvation,  they  shall  be  able 
to  depart  in  peace.  O  Lord  God,  manifest 
it  unto  them,  and  add  this  day  to  the  num- 
ber of  those  who  have  seen  and  experienced 
it.  We  desire  to  glorify  thee  for  every  liv- 
ing Christian  who  knows  in  whom  he  has 
believed,  and  is  ready  and  prepai'ed  to  de- 
part in  peace.  We  give  all  the  praise  to 
the  riches  of  thy  free  grace.  And  we  also 
bless  thy  holy  name  for  all  thy  servants  de- 
parted this  life  in  thy  faith  and  love  ;  be- 
seeching thee  to  give  us  grace  so  to  follow 
their  good  examples,  as  they  followed 
(vhrist ;  that  with  them  we  may  be  partak- 
ers of  thy  heavenly  kingdom.  Grant  this, 
O  Father,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  our  only 
mediator  and  advocate :  to  whom,  with  thee, 
and  the  Holy  Spirit,  three  co-equal  persons 
in  one  Jehovah,  be  honour,  and  glory,  and 
blessing,  and  praise,  lor  ever  and  ever. 
Ameru 


TRACTS 


ON 


SEVERAL  INTERESTING  SUBJECTS. 


PREFACE. 


The  reader  will  see,  from  tlie  date  of  the 
following  letter,  that  it  was  written  a  con- 
siderable time  ago.  From  which  circum- 
stance he  will  probably  conclude,  that  it 
was  not  intended  for  publication.  A  con- 
jecture which  is  perfectly  just.  The  pub- 
lication is  owing  to  the  Right  Honourable 
personage,  whose  name,  though  it  would 
grace  and  recommend  his  papers,  the  au- 
thor is  not  allowed  to  mention.  Her  Lady- 
ship's commands,  which  would  admit  of  no 
excuse,  drew  the  remarks  from  his  pen ; 
and  her  desire,  which  with  him  will  always 


have  te  force  of  a  ooninnand,  has  brought 
them  to  the  press.  It  will  give  him  tlie 
highest  pleasure,  if,  while  he  is  paying  the 
debt  of  obedience  and  gratitude  to  a  nohk 
friend,  he  may  support  the  dignity  of  the 
divine  word  ;  may  raise  its  esteem,  and  pro- 
mote its  study  among  men :  because  then 
he  may  reasonably  hope  to  promote  the 
best  interests  of  his  fellow- creatures,  and 
subserve  that  grand  designation  of  the  Al- 
mighty Majesty  expressed  by  the  Psalmist, 
"  Thou  hast  magnified  thy  word  above  all 
thy  name."  Psal.  cxxxviii.  2. 


MARKS 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE'S  LETTERS 


STUDY  AND  USE  OF  HISTORY; 


so  yAIi  AS  THEY  KCLATR  TO  THE  HISTOKY  OF  THK  OLD  TESTAMF.NT,    AND    ESPECIALLY  TO 
THE  CASE  Of  NOAH  DENOUNCING  A  COIISE  UPON  CANAAN  : 


LETTER  TO  A  LADY  OF  QUALITY 


Mercujs  prof  undo,  pxdchrior  ci'Cnit-    Hon 


Madam, — As  you  was  pleased  to  ask 
my  opinion  concerning  Lord  Bolingbinkf's 
Remarks  on  the  Scriptural  history,  I  have 
procured  the  book;  have  perused  what  re- 
lates to  the  subject ;  and  submit  to  your 
judgment  the  thoughts  which  oceured  :  as- 
stiring  your  ladyship,  that,  though  many 
uiigiit  discuss  the  point  much  more  clearly 
tiiid  satisfactorily  than  the  person  you  favour- 
ed with  your  coinmands,  yet  no  one  can  think 
it  a  greater  honour  to  receive  them,  or  a 
greater  pleasure  to  execute  them. 

"  The  Old  Testament,"  it  is  alleged,  "  is 
po  sulhcieiit  foundation  for  chronology  from 
the  beginning  of  time."*  To  enter  upon 
the  niceties  of  chronology,  would,  ])erhaps, 
he  too  diliicult  a  research  ;  at  least,  it  would 
require  from  your  ladyship  a  more  painfid 
attention  than  I  should  choose  to  occasion 
by  any  of  my  letters.  And  I  very  frankly 
own,  that  1  am  by  no  means  master  of  the 


"  See  Lord  Bolingbroke'.'.  Letters  on  tlit  Study  and 
Uio  of  History,  vol.  i.  p.  Li'J, 


argument,  nor  equal  to  the  task.  Others, 
I  do  not  doubt,  whose  inclination  has  dis- 
posed, and  whose  genius  has  fitted  them  for 
this  particular  study,  will  undertake  to  de- 
cide the  question,  and  give  the  honour  where 
the  honour  is  due.  1  his,  however,  from  a 
very  scaiiE^'  survey  of  the  case,  I  can  easily 
discern  ,  that  tiie  ehronologer  v/ill  nowhere 
tin;]  such  memorable  e\ents  for  fixing  his 
eras,  nor  such  early  and  substantial  aids  for 
computing  his  time,  as  from  the  Alosaic 
moimments,  and  the  sacred  annals. 

From  thi!  begitmiiig  of  the  world  to  the 
lioud,  we  have  an  orderly  gradation  of  time, 
niaiked  out  by  the  lives  of  ten  eminent  pa- 
triarchs. From  the  Hood  we  may  proceed 
to  that  glorious  promise  of  a  Redeemer, 
made  to  Abraham,  "  In  tliy  seed  shall  all 
the  nations  of  the  earth  be  blessed."  Gen. 
xxii.  18.  From  this  promise,  to  the  mira- 
culous deliverance  of  the  Israelites  from 
Egyptian  bondage.  Fi'om  thence,  to  the 
building  of  Soloinc  ii's  temple,  which  was 
an  illustrious  type  of  that  divine   Person 


6»N«^ 


REMARKS  ON 


'•in  whom   dwells   all    the   fulness  of  the  |  may  we  not  challenge  any  or  all  the  book* 


Oodheiid  bodily."  John  ii.  '21.  Fioin  the 
biiildinsr  of  this  mapniticent  structure,  to 
the  demolition  of  it  by  the  Babylonian 
monarch.  From  thence,  to  the  con(juest  of 
Babylon  by  Cyrus  the  Persian.  And  from 
the  reign  of  Cyrus,  to  that  grand,  that  most 
in)portant  of  all  transactions,  the  death  of 
Messiah  the  Prince  ;  when  he  "  finished 
the  transgression,  and  made  an  end  of  sins, 
and  made  reconciliation  for  iniquity,  and 
bronifht  in  everlasting  righteousness."  Dan. 
Lx.  2  k 

The  intermediate  space  between  each  of 
tliese  very  distinguished  periods,  may,  I  be- 
lieve, be  ascertained,  to  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  exactness,  from  the  sacred  volumes. 
If  so,  this  will  constitute  a  more  compre- 
hensive and  perfect  system  of  chronology, 
than  can  be  derived  from  the  Olympiads  of 
the  Grecians,  or  the  Hegira  of  the  J.Iaho- 
raetans ;  from  the  Persiiui,  the  Roman,  or 
any  other  epocha. 

But  the  history  of  the  Old  Testament  is 
much  more  necessary  to  be  known,  and 
much  more  easy  to  be  understood.  Yet 
this,  my  lord  suggests,  (p.  83,)  is  not  a 
complete  history  of  the  first  ages.  We  al- 
low the  suggestion.  It  neither  is,  nor  has 
materials  for,  a  complete  universal  history. 
It  pretends  to  nothing  more  than  to  relate 
the  affairs  of  one  particular  family ;  in 
which  the  cinnvh  of  God  was  to  subsist, 
and  from  which  the  Saviour  of  men  was  to 
spring.  Nevertheless,  so  many  collateral 
incidents  are  touched  upon,  so  many  branch- 
es of  this  main  stream  are  occasionally  pur- 
sued, as  present  us  with  a  collection  of  tiie 
most  ancient,  ths  most  curious,  and  most 
instructive  facts. 

Here  we  are  brought  acquainted  with 
the  creation  of  the  world,  and  the  formation 
of  man.  The  origin  of  evil,  both  natural 
and  moral,  is  discovered  in  the  fall  of  our 
first  parents  ;  and  the  displeasure  of  God 
against  sin  is  manifested  by  the  waters  of 
a  general  deluge.  Here  we  see  the  preser- 
vation of  our  species  in  the  ark,  and  repeo- 
j)ling  of  the  earth  by  Noah;  the  invention 
of  polite  arts,  Gen.  iv.  21,  and  the  rise  of 
useful  :n:nmfactures.  Gen.  iv.  20,  22  ;  the 
establishment  of  nations,  and  the  founders 
of  their  principal  kingdoms.*  Not  to  add, 
that  these  records  are  the  royal  archives  in 
M  hich  the  charter  of  our  sovereignty  over 
ihe  creatures  is  preserved.  Gen.  i.  28,  and 
I  he  original  draught  of  the  covenant  of 
tirace  deposited,  Gen.  iii.  15,     Here,  then. 


*  Genesis,  chap.  x.  Which,  though  but  little  ad- 
wrteil  to,  is  the  noblest  iiiece  of  ceographical  anti- 
<|uity  extant  in  the  world.  It  shews  us  how  the 
whole  earth,  from  the  three  sons  of  Noah,  was  over- 
spread, inhabited,  and  denominated.  It  discovers 
Ihe  true  source  of  the  several  nations  about  which 
l.rofiine  .uuliors  either  say  nothing  at  all,  or  else  say 
wliat  li  chimerical,  precarious,  false. 


[  written  in  eveiy  language  mider  heaven  ? 
What  memoirs  go  so  far  back  into  antiqui- 
ty? what  memoirs  are  so  interesting  to  all 
mankind  ?  Had  they  been  transmitted  to 
us  by  any  Grecian  or  Roman  author,  how 
would  they  have  been  admired  and  valued  ! 
how  lavishly,  and  indeed  liow  justly  prais- 
ed! 

Another  excellency  of  these  writings 
(and  peculiar  to  these  alone)  is,  that  they 
not  only  leach  brickward,  as  far  as  the  very 
birth  of  things,  hut  proceed  forwards,  even 
into  the  remotest  futurity.  They  foretold 
the  ruin  of  Babylon,  Isa.  xiii.  19,  &c.  xvi. 
23,  24,  the  noblest,  the  b^'st  fortified,  and 
most  commodiously  situated  nietro])olis  in 
the  universe  ;  who  said,  and  no  one  would 
have  suspected  it  to  be  a  vain  boast.  "  I 
shall  be  a  lady  for  ever,"  Isa.  xlvii.  7.  Yet 
the  Scriptures  pronounced  her  utter  des- 
truction, Isa.  xiii.  19,  2U,  &c.  xvi.  23,  24. 
and  specified  the  person  who  .'ihould  bring 
about  this  great  catastrophe.  They  point- 
ed out  the  place  of  his  abode,  Isa.  xlvi.  11, 
they  described  him  by  several  distinguishing 
circumstances  ;*  they  particularized  the 
genius  of  his  warlike  enterprises  ;f  they 
mentioned  his  veiy  name,  Isa.  xliv.  28,  xlv. 
1, — all  this,  some  hundreds  of  years  before 
the  event  took  place,  or  the  conqueror  was 
born. 

They  foretold  the  rejection  and  calami- 
ties of  the  disobedient  Jews,  who  are  the 
chief  subject  of  their  history,  (and  this 
surely  could  not  be  with  a  view  to  aggran- 
dize their  nation,  or  to  answer  any  sinister 
design : )  that  they  shoidd  be  subdued  by 
their  enemies,  lose  the  favour  of  their  God, 
and  the  possession  of  their  native  land  ;  yet 
not  be  settled,  as  a  colony,  in  some  particu- 
lar tract  of  the  victor's  dominions,  but  be 
scattered  abroad  under  the  whole  heavens, 
Dent,  xxviii.  64.  Amos.  ix.  9.  This  was 
threatened  by  their  Jehovah,  this  is  record- 
ed in  their  books,  and  this  is,  even  now,  so 
remarkably  fulfilled,  as  to  be  a  fact  of  the 
utmost  notoriety.  Go  into  the  most  po- 
lite or  most  barbarous  countries,  the  nearest 
or  most  distant  parts  of  the  world ;  you  will 
everywhere  find  living  evidences  of  this 
scriptural  prediction. 

The  Scriptures  speak  in  the  most  explicit 
and  peremptory  terms,  with  regard  to  the  re- 
storation of  the  .Tews,  Ezek.  xi.  17;  Amosix. 
14, 15.  Zech.  xiv.  10,  II.    This  restoration 


*  That  he  should  besiege  and  take  the  most  im- 
Iiregnable  of  cities,  Isa.  xlv.  1,  2.  That  he  should  en- 
rich himself  with  immense  spoils,  Isa.  xlv.  3.  That  he 
should  not  be  a  tyrant,  but  a  shepherd  to  the  captive 
Jews;  should  release  them  from  their  captivity,  and 
both  permit  and  promote  the  rebuilding  of  their  tem- 
ple, Isa.  xliv.  28. 

t  He  is  called  a  ravenous  bird,  Isa.  xlvi.  11,  denot- 
ing his  ^peed,  activity,  and  great  expedition  :  Which 
were  more  like  the  flight  of  a  swift-winged  bird  than 
the  march  of  an  army,  vvith  all  its  encumbrances. 


EGLINGBROKES  LETTERS. 


689 


conld  not  he  effected,  at  least  could  not  be  wit ;  an  acuteness  but  too  speculative,  and 
observed,  if  they  bad  been  blended  and  incor-  a  policy  over  refined,  in  his  observations; 
porated  with  the  inhabitants  of  other  climes,  a  malignant  and  ill-natured  turn  in  his  cha- 
Therefore  to  be  a  presumptive  ])roof  of  its  racters  ;  a  philosophy  too  c'lbstracted  and 
accomplishment,  and  to  render  it,  when  uc-  '  elevated  in  his  reasonings,  and  a  vanity  in 
complished,  the  most  observable  of  all  re-  i  his  learning.  In  short,  that  he  is  in  anti- 
volutions,  they  have  subsisted  a  distinct  quity  a  pedant ;  in  the  philosophy  of  nature 
people,  amidst  all  the  regions  whether  they    a  sceptic  ;  in  morals  loose  ;  in   description 


have  been  driven.  A  most  singular  and 
astonishing  circumstance  !  How  soon  were 
the  Danes,  the  Saxons,  and  the  Normans, 
mingled  with  the  Britons  !  and  how  entirely 
are  they  all  melted  down  and  lost  among  the 
natives  of  our  isle  !  But  the  Jews,  like  a 
drop  of  oil  on  the  water,  have  continued  a 
separate  community  ;  and  though  dispersed 
into  all  nations,  are  not,  through  the  long 
course  of  seventeen  hundred  years,  embo- 
died with  any.  This  is  such  a  peculiarity 
in  the  dispensations  of  Providence,  as  I  can 
never  sufficiently  admire ;  and  is,  I  think, 
an  undeniable  voucher  to  the  authenticity 
of  the  Scriptures ;  held  forth,  as  it  were 
by  the  hand  of  Omnipotence,  in  the  sight 
of  all  the  world. 

Such  events  the  ancient  Scriptures  fore- 
tell, and  such  facts  they  relate  !  facts  of  in- 
comparable grandeur,  and  events  of  the 
greatest  importance.  All  which  are  deli- 
vered in  such  a  majestic  simplicity  of  style, 
as  nothing  can  equal  but  their  precise  vera- 
city. Yet  these  books  Lord  Bolingbroke 
disparages,  and  at  the  same  time  extols  the 
writings  of  Tacitus.  "  The  remains  of 
Tacitus,"  he  tells  us,  "are  precious  re- 
mains," p.  l(il.  Those  of  the  holy  Scrip- 
ture "  are  dark  and  imperfect  accounts," 
p.  108.  In  Tacitus,  "history  j)reserves 
lier  integrity  and  her  lustr(%"  p.  161.  In 
the  holy  Scripture,  instead  of  history  you 
have  "  an  heaj)  of  fables  ;  which  can  pretend 
to  nothing  but  some  inscrutable  truths,  and 
therefore  useless  to  mankind,"  p.  12I. 
Every  line  of  Tacitus  has  weight,  p.  161, 
and  camiot  be  mentioned  without  adtnira- 
tion ;  whereas  the  sacred  history  is  put  up- 
on a  level  with  the  extravagancies  of  Ama- 
dis  of  (iaul,  J).  I'il,  and  "can  never  gaiti 
sutlicient  credit  fjom  any  reasonable  man," 
p.  118. 

"  Who  is  this  uncirctmicised  Philistine 
(?aid  David),  that  he  should  defy  the  armies 
of  the  living  God?"  1  Sam.  xvii.  '26.  And 
who  is  this  Tacitus,  would  I  ask,  this  dar- 
ling author,  that  he  should  be  raised  to  the 
skies,  while  the  divine  historians  are  trodden 
to  the  dust?  If  your  ladyship  is  unac- 
(ju;iinted  with  his  character,  let  me  give  it 
in  the  words  of  a  nmst  elegant  and  masterly 
critic.  "4^aving  considered  the  principal 
qualities  of  Tacitus  as  a  writer  and  an  his- 
torian, I  cannot  hel[)  thinking,  that  there  is 
a  false  sublime  and  affectation  in  his  descrip- 
tions ;  a  scurrility  and  satirical  vein,  with 
too    epigrarainatical  a  conciseness,  in   his 


gaudy  and  pompous  ;  in  politics  subdolous, 
refined  and  knavish."* 

Yet  this  is  the  writer  that  must  be 
placed  in  such  great  superiority  to  Moses, 
Joshua,  and  Samuel;  this  the  history,  (rise 
criticism,  and  resent  the  indignity!)  that  is 
spoken  of  with  applause  and  rapture,  even 
while  the  sacred  annals  are  treated  with 
disrespect  and  obloquy. 

I  might  recount  the  glorious  privileges 
exhibited  in  this  blessed  book  ;  the  inesti- 
mable promises  made  to  the  righteous ; 
the  tenderly  compassionate  invitations  ad- 
dressed to  sinners  ;  the  refined  and  exalted 
displays  of  morality  ;  with  many  other  noble 
particulars,  which  it  is  the  prerogative  of 
Scripture  to  contain,  the  wisdom  of  man- 
kind to  believe,  and  the  only  felicity  of  our 
nature  to  be  interested  in  them,  and  in- 
fluenced by  them. 

But  my  lord  is  ready  to  agree  on  these 
topics,  tie  expresses,  in  some  places  at  least, 
no  dislike  of  the  doctrinal  and  prophetical 
paits.  Nay,  he  has  contrived  an  expedient 
to  rescue  them  from  the  dishonour  which 
he  would  bring  upon  the  historical.  He  al- 
lows the  former  to  be  written  under  the  in- 
sjjiration  of  the  holy  and  unerring  Spirit 
the  latter,  he  afhims,  are  "  purely  human, 
and  therefore  fallible,"  p.  96.  Proceediiig 
upon  this  supposition,  he  scruples  not  to  re- 
present theiii  as  the  divices  of  craft,  or  the 
blundei's  of  ignorance. -f- 

1  must  beg  leave  to  observe,  that  such  a 
distinction  is  without  the  least  ground  of  re- 
ality to  support  it  ;  and  would,  if  admitted, 
be  an  effectual  method  to  subvert  the  whole 
of  revelation  ;  For,  if  it  could  be  proved, 
that  the  authors  of  this  history  were  so 
weak  as  to  fall  into  palpable  errors,  where 
a  common  degree  of  sagacity  would  have 
secured  them  from  mistaking  ;  or  if  they 
were  so  treacherous  as  to  palm  upon  the 
world  a  multiplicity  of  forgeries  ;  so  impious 
as  to  ascribe  their  falsehoods  to  the  God  of 
truth  ;  this  would  at  once  ruin  their  cha- 
racter as  men,  and  destroy  their  credit  as 
writers.  At  this  rate,  who  could  depetid 
u|)on  their  testimony  in  any  point  what- 
ever? 

Besides,  many  of  the  doctrinal  parts   of 


*  Huntci's  Observations  on  Tacitus. 

t  Thiit  this  is  no  aggravated  imnutation,  every  at- 
tentive reacler  of  liis  lordship's  letlJeis  will  easily  pei- 
ceive;  and  I  l)elieve  it  will  appear  too  plainly" from 
the  passages  to  be  produced  in  the  sequel  of  this  epis- 


eoo 


REMARKS  ON 


scripture  refer  to,  and  are  derived  from  the 
historical.  If  the  latter  were  a  parcel  of 
impositions  and  mistakes,  what  degree  of 
veracity  or  dignity  could  the  former  claim  V 
If  the  foundation  is  a  bubble,  how  can  the 
superstructure  stand  ?  Whetherhis  lordship, 
by  such  a  specious  pretence  of  serving  tiie 
interests  of  true  religion,  intended  secretly 
to  undermine  it,  I  will  not  presume  to  say  ; 
but  this  I  may  venture  to  declare,  that  his 
scheme  is  very  shrewdly  calculated  to  com- 
pass such  an  end.  Grant  what  his  lordship 
asks  ;  and  what  all  the  enemies  of  Chris- 
tianity wish  will  undoubtedly  follow. 

Farther,  madam,  such  a  distinction  is  con- 
trary to  the  express  declaration  of  the  New 
Testament;  which  positively  asserts,  that  "all 
Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God,"  2 
Tim.  iii.  16.  Our  blessed  Lord,  who  was  very 
well  qualified  to  discern  truth,  and  equally 
zealous  to  maintain  it,  makes  no  such  differ- 
ence. He  says  in  general,  "  Search  the  Scrip- 
tures," John  v.  39  ;  the  whole  collection  of  sa- 
cred writings.  "  Whatsoever  things,"  adds  St. 
Paul,  not  some  particular  passages  only,  but 
"  Whatsoever  things  were  written  aforetime, 
were  written  for  our  learning,"  Rom.  xv.  4., 
and  must  therefore  have  been  under  such  a 
divine  superintendency  as  secured  them  from 
all  possibility  of  error  ;  otherwise  they  might 
he  written,  not  for  our  learning,  but  for  our 
deception.  So  that  St.  Paul's  direction  is 
as  contrary  to  Lord  Bolingbroke's  distinc- 
tion, as  the  east  is  opposite  to  the  west. 
We  may  as  soon  bring  these  two  points  of 
the  hemisphere  together,  as  reconcile  his 
lordship's  refinements  with  the  apostle's  re- 
hgion. 

I  believe  it  will  be  equally  difficult  to  ren- 
der his  lordship  consistent  with  himself. 
His  concession  overthrows  his  distinction. 
Admitting  the  doctrinal  parts  of  the  Scrip- 
ture to  be  true,  the  veracity  of  the  histori- 
cal is,  by  necessary  consequence,  and  beyond 
all  contradiction,  established.  They  are  in- 
dissolubly  connected ;  they  mutually  bear  on, 
fliid  mutually  sustain  each  other  ;  and  must 
stand  or  fall  together.  They  are  like  an 
arch  most  exaetly  finished,  not  a  stone  of 
which  can  be  taken  away  without  discon- 
certing the  whole  structure  ;  and  like  an 
arch  firmly  founded,  as  well  as  correctly 
finished,  the  more  they  are  pressed,  the 
stronger  they  will  appear. 

My  Lord  says  indeed — "  That  Christ  came 
not  to  consecrate  ali  the  written  traditions  of 
the  Jews,"  p.  94.  He  says  it,  but  where  or 
how  does  he  prove  it  ?  By  written  tradi- 
tions of  the  Jews,  I  suppose,  we  are  to  un- 
derstand all  the  Hebrew  Scriptures.  The 
drift  of  the  discourse  leads  us  to  this  sense. 
Now,  it  is  apparent  that  our  Saviour  has 
actually  consecrated,  has  set  the  seal  of  au- 
thenticity and  infallibility  to  the  law  of  Moses, 
to  the  Psalms,  and   to  the  Prophets,  Luke 


xxiv.  4-i.  By  appealing  to  them  as  decisive, 
and  by  allowing  them  to  be  predictive,  he 
has  acknowledged  them  to  be  divinely  in- 
spired, to  be  unquestionably  true.  And  a 
very  little  acquaintance  with  Jewish  an- 
tiquities will  inform  us,  that  in  these  three 
partitions  the  wliole  body  of  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures  is  comi)iehended.  What  then 
becomes  of  his  lordship's  assertion  ?  or  to 
whose  discredit  does  it  tend? — that  of  the 
Jewish  Scriptures,  or  that  of  his  own  know- 
l.dge? 

1  must  desire  your  ladyship  to  take  no- 
tice of  the  expression  in  this  passage.  It 
is  somewhat  singular,  and  deserves  a  parti- 
cular regard.  Written  traditions  is  the 
phrase.  Every  one  knows  that  we  explode, 
and  veiy  justly,  those  superstitious  whim- 
sies of  the  Jews  which  jiass  under  the  de- 
nomination of  traditions.  Yet  my  lord 
thinks  proper  to  call  the  histories  of  the 
Old  Testament  by  this  disreputable  name  ; 
only  he  admits  one  diiference,  that  whereas 
the  former  were  transmitted  by  strength  of 
memory,  the  latter  are  committed  to  writ- 
ing. But  is  this  an  honest  representation  ? 
is  this  free  from  all  malignant  disguise  ? 

Let  us  put  the  matter  to  the  following 
trial.  The  word  leijend,  when  applied  to 
any  modern  story,  raises  the  same  contemp- 
tible and  absurd  idea  as  the  word  tradition 
excites,  when  applied  to  any  Jewish  notion. 
Would  my  lord,  or  would  his  iriends  think, 
that  due  honour  or  common  justice  was 
done  to  his  "  Sketch  of  the  History  and 
State  of  Europe,"  if  it  should  be  styled  in 
our  public  p.ipers  "  Lord  Bolingbroke's 
written  Legends  ?"  The  impropriety  and 
the  malevolence  of  such  a  title  would  be 
undeniable  and  odious  ■  Who  then  can  vin- 
dicate the  propriety  of  his  lordship's  lan- 
guage, or  clear  it  from  being  a  most  injuri- 
ous misrepresentation  of  the  sacred  records, 
which,  however  some  of  the  facts  might 
come  down  in  a  traditionary  channel  to  the 
writers,  by  passing  through  their  hands  re- 
ceive the  stamp  of  undoubted  certainty,  and 
are  no  longer  traditions,  but  oracles. 

I  wish  this  had  been  the  only  instance  of 
artifice  and  imposition  used  in  the  letters 
under  examination.  Why  are  so  many  idle 
tales  and  scandalous  stories  raked  together 
and  exposed  to  view  ?  ( See  pages  83,  86, 
88,  1U2,  108,  109.)  Why?  but  to  put  a 
cheat  upon  the  inattentive  reader,  and  de- 
preciate the  dignity  of  the  divine  word  ?  de- 
preciate it  much  in  the  same  manner  as  its 
most  illustrious  object  and  author  was  for- 
merly dishonoured,  not  only  by  the  false 
accusations  with  which  he  was  charged,  but 
also  by  the  infamous  company  with  whom 
he  vvas  numbered.  Did  my  lord  imagine, 
that  these  tales  were  really  believed  even, 
by  the  warmest  advocates  for  holy  writ?  No-: 
he  must  know  in  his  conscience  tliat  they 


BOLINGBROKE'S  LETTERS. 


«aii 


never  were  received  by  the  generality  of  di- 
vines, neither  are  mentioned  Ijy  authors  ot 
discernment,  unless  it  be  to  confute  and  re- 
ject them.  However,  be  they  credited  or 
not,  it  was  apprehended  they  might  serve  a 
purpose  :  But  whether  it  be  the  purpose  of 
integrity,  impartiality,  and  truth,  I  leave  to 
the  determination  of  others. 

Still  it  is  urged.  That  these  Scriptures 
are  "  full  of  additions,  interpolations,  and 
transpositions,"  p.  95,  96.  That  they  are 
full  of  additions,  is  more  easily  asserted  than 
evinced.  I  can  tind  but  one  instance  spe- 
cified by  his  lordship,  which  is  the  account 
"of  the  death  and  sepulture  of  Aloses,  with 
a  sort  of  finieral  panegyric,"  (p.  lOii,)  re- 
corded in  the  last  chapter  of  Deuteronomy. 
Here  it  is  taken  for  granted  that  we  are  re- 
duced to  a  terrible  dilemma — either  to  own 
that  this  ])aragraph  was  written  by  Moses 
himself,  and  then  we  may  expect  to  hear  of 
impossibility  and  absurdity  ;  or  else,  that 
it  is  all  supposititious,  and  then  the  Scrip- 
tures must  have  passed  through  tampering 
fingers  and  suifcied  adulteration.  But 
suppose  this  small  appendix  was  made 
by  Joshua,  a  man  whose  mind  was  il- 
luminated and  his  hand  guided  by  the 
Spirit  of  the  Alost  High,  does  such  an  ad- 
dition deserve  to  be  branded  with  an  ig- 
nominious, or  even  brought  into  disesteem 
by  a  suspicious  character  'i  Or  what  if 
some  other  prophet  whose  name  is  unknown 
Superadded  this  valiuible  anecdote  ?  Is  the 
concealment  of  the  pemnan's  name  sufficieiit 
to  ini[)each  the  genuineness,  or  invalidate 
the  authority  of  the  passage  ?  especially 
since  it  has  been  approved  by  other  inspired 
writers,  and  received  the  imprimature  of  the 
Holy  Ghost?  1  know  not  who  is  the  printer 
of  his  lordship's  two  volumes  ;  yet,  tiiough 
ignorant  of  this  circumstance,  for  other  very 
satisfactory  reasons,  1  have  no  doubt  but 
they  are  the  genuine  productions  of  his  pen. 

My  lord  would  have  done  well  lo  consi- 
der, whether  it  was  a  probable  or  a  practi- 
cable thing  to  interpolate  a  set  of  books,  which 
were  studied  with  so  much  accuracy,  and 
kept  with  so  much  vigilance  ;  the  number 
of  whose  verses,  especially  in  the  Penta- 
teuch, was  computed,  and  the  arrangement  of 
the  very  letters  known  :  Whether,  after  the 
coming  of  Christ,  the  jealous  eye  which  the 
Jews  ajid  Christiaius  had  on  each  other  was 
not  an  insurmountable  baj- against  any  inno- 
vations or  material  alterations.  As  for 
transpositions,  they  are  used  by  the  most 
approved  historians.  When  used  with  judg- 
ment, they  redound  to  the  reputation  of  the 
writer,  and  increase  the  pleasure  of  the  read- 
er. And  would  his  lordship  make  that  a 
disapragenient  of  the  sacred  narrative, 
which  is  a  recommendation  of  any  ordinary 
composition  ? 

But  my  lora  imagines  that  he  has  found 


out  u  substantial  reason  for  the  aforemen- 
tioned distinction — has  detected  such  im- 
proprieties in  the  sacred  narrative  as  "  con- 
tradict all  our  notions  of  order  and  of  jus- 
tice," p.  110.  He  produces,  by  way  of  spe- 
cimen, the  case  of  Noah  denouncing  a  curse 
upon  Canaan.  This,  it  seems,  is  the  capi- 
tal absurdity,  this  the  glaring  error,  which  he 
concludes  is  sufiTicient  to  uncanonize  the 
histories  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  degrade 
their  writers  from  the  class  of  inspiration. 
This,  therefore,  if  your  ladyship  pleases,  we 
will  examine  a  little  more  particularly. 

The  charge  in  general,  is  thus  expressed  : 
"  One  is  tempted  to  think  that  the  patri- 
arch was  still  drunk,  and  that  no  man  in  his 
senses  could  hold  such  language,  or  pass 
such  a  sentence."  Was  I  at  leisure  to  cri- 
ticise upon  words,  I  should  be  tempted  to 
observe,  that  the  diction,  "  no  man  could 
hold  such  language,"  may  be  French,  but  it 
is  scarcely  English.  However,  from  the 
expression,  1  pass  to  the  sentiment.  This, 
for  candour  and  solidity,  is  much  like  the 
reflection  of  the  Jews  on  the  memorable 
day  of  Pentecost.  When  the  apostles  ad- 
dressed the  inhabitants  of  various  countries 
each  in  his  native  tongue,  some  of  their 
hearers  ascribed  this  miraculous  ability — to 
what  ?  we  ai  e  amazed  when  we  read — to 
the  intoxicating  ];ower  of  wine.  Acts  ii.  13. 
Strange  !  that  excessive  drinking,  which  in- 
capacitates other  people  for  talking  common 
sense,  should  enable  the  disciples  of  Christ 
to  speak  all  kinds  of  languages  I  Is  it  not 
equally  strange,  that  a  drunken  disorder 
should  enable  the  patriarch  to  deliver  pro- 
phecies, and  foretell  future  events  !  which 
(as  I  hope  to  prove)  was  the  real  import  of 
the  speech. 

Perhaps  this  curse  may  seem  to  be  the 
effect,  if  not  of  disorderly  indulgence,  yet 
of  intemperate  passion.  And  how  incom- 
patible is  this  with  the  character  of  a  preach- 
er of  righteousness  !  Siu'ely  Noah  should 
not  have  been  so  forward  to  call  for  the 
thunderbolts  of  vengeance.  Any  benevo- 
lent man,  much  more  a  pious  progetiitor, 
would  rather  have  deprecated  the  blow. 
I  wonder  his  lordship  did  not  start  this  ob- 
jection, which  would  have  been  much  more 
plausible,  and  much  less  shocking.  To  this, 
in  case  it  had  been  sttu^ted,  we  might  reply, 
That  Noah  acted  as  the  oracle  of  God.  This, 
and  many  other  such  passages,  which  seem 
to  be  imprecations,  are  really  predictions. 
Holy  men  spoke  as  they  were  influenced  by 
the  Spirit,  and  uttered  not  the  suggestions 
of  their  own  minds,  but  the  will  of  Almighty 
God  ;  which  inclines  me  to  think  it  might 
be  no  less  proper,  and  much  more  suitable 
to  the  prophetic  style,  if  we  translated 
such  passages  as  indicatives,  rather  than  im- 
peratives ;  making  them  declaratory  of  wb«t 
is  decreed  in  the  cabinet  of  heaven,  ancf  will 


692 


REMAKKS  ON 


as  certainly  take  place  as  if  it  had  already 
pxisted.  Cursed  is,  rather  than  cursed  be 
Canaan.  Blessed  of  the  Lord  is.  instead  of 
be  his  land,  Dent,  xxxiii.  13.  Thus,  Isaiah 
foretelling  the  incarnation  of  that  wonderful 
and  adorable  Person,  whom  he  styles  the 
Mighty  God,  says,  To  us  a  child  is  born, 
Isa.  ix.  6  ;  so  "  c.illing  the  things  that  are 
not,  as  though  they  were."  Such  a  man- 
ner of  speaking  would  remove,  from  this 
particular  passage,  all  that  sounds  harsh, 
or  seems  uncharitable ;  and  would,  in  the 
general,  impart  an  unequalled  majesty*  to 
the  language  of  Scripture. 

It  was  God  then,  and  not  man,  from  whom 
this  avenging  sentence  came.  And  God, 
to  shew  his  utter  detestation  of  all  iniqui- 
ty, to  manifest  his  singular  delight  in  all 
virtue,  frequently  takes  occasion  to  denounce 
vengeance,  or  promise  happiness,  when  some 
notorious  evil  is  committed,  or  some  laud- 
able good  performed.  And  was  there  not 
a  most  notorious  evil  committed  here  ? 
"  Charity,"  eays  the  apostle,  "  coverelh  all 
things ;"-)-  draws  a  veil  over  the  various  in- 
firmities of  every  common  neighbour.  But 
this  man  (man  shall  I  say,  rather  monster  of 
ingratitude)  sees  the  shame  of  a  father,  an 
aged  father,  a  pious  father,  Levit.  xix.  32  ; 
and,  instead  of  concealing,  "  when  he  Com- 
eth forth,  he  telleth  it."  Fools  they  are, 
abandoned  profligates,  that  "  make  a  mock 
at  sin."  What  name  then  can  be  bad 
enough  for  a  profane  and  unnatural  wretch, 
who  makes  sport  with  a  parent's  folly,  a 
parent's  sinfulness,  a  parent's  misery  ?  Sure- 
ly this  was  a  most  flagrant  violation  of  filial 
reverence,  filial  love,  and  filial  duty  ;t  which 
not  only  implied  so  many  particular  offences, 
each  attended  with  its  respective  guilt,  but 
indicated  the  ofl^ender  to  be  destitute  of  all 
piety.  For,  to  argue  in  the  apostle's  strain, 
how  could  this  man  venerate  a  Father  in 
heaven,  whom  he  had  not  seen,  if  he  was  so 
irreverent  to  a  father  on  earth,  whom  he 
had  seen  ? 

But  supposing  the  turpitude  and  immoral- 
ity of  the  action  to  be  very  enormous,  and  such 
as  deserved  some  signal  vengeance;  the  ven- 
geance, it  is  objected,  was  misapplied:  "  For 
Ham  alone  oflfended :  Canaan  was  innocent : " 


*  Blessed  be,  is  what  an  holv  person  might  say, 
and  comprehends  no  more  than  a  supplicatory  bene- 
diction. Blessed  is,  suits  only  the  mouth  of  a  pro- 
phet, and  implies  an  authoritative  blessing. 

t  1  Cor.  xiii.  7.  This  is  one  article  in  the  finest 
display  of  social  virtue  that  ever  was  exhibited  to 
the  world ;  and  should,  I  think,  be  translated  (not 
beareth,  but)  covereth  or  concealeth  all  things.  The 
natural  import  of  the  word  justifies,  and  the  context 
evidently  requires,  this  sense.  Otherwise  the  first 
and  last  clauses  of  the  verse  will  coincide  in  their 
meaning,  or  rather  make  ^.n  unmeaning  tautology. 

t  We  may  see  from  that  awful  threatening,  Prov. 
XXX.  17,  with  what  extreme  detestation  the  most  ho- 
ly (jod  resents  such  an  unnatural  behaviour  :  "  The 
.  eye  that  moiketh  at  hisfnther,  and  dcsnis.nh  to  obey 
his  mother,  the  ravens  of  the  valley  shall  pick  it  out, 
and  the  young  eagle  shatl  eat  it." 


My  lord  is  not  sure  that  Canaan  was  inno- 
cent, though  he  asserts  it  pretty  confidently. 
The  contrary  notion  has  obtained  among 
the  .Tews.  They  apprehended  that  Canaan 
was  first  in  the  transgression,  and,  instead 
of  being  reproved,  was  imitated  by  his  fa- 
ther. Bi>hop  Patrick,  Mr.  Poole,  and 
other  eminent  commentators,  think  this  to 
be  no  improbable  opinion. 

If  his  lordship  was  unacquainted  with  the 
Hebrevv,  he  will  scarcely  be  thought  quali- 
fied to  pronounce  so  peremptorily  concern- 
ing a  ca'^e  related  in  that  language.  If  he 
was  acquainted  with  the  original,  he  acts 
somewhat  unfairly  in  saying,  "This  notion 
is  not  only  without,  but  against  the  express 
authority  of  the  text."  (p.  III.)  For  he 
must  know  that  it  receives  some  counte- 
nance even  from  the  text  itself.  I  would 
by  no  means  offend  your  ladyship's  eyes 
with  any  rugged  figures  or  uncouth  quota- 
tions. But  you  may  venture  to  believe  me, 
when  1  assure  you,  that  the  most  exact 
translation  of  ver.  '24  is,  Noah  "  knew  what 
his  son  iiad  done  to  him,  the  or  that  little 
one."  Ham  could  not  so  properly  be  styled 
the  little  one,  since  he  was  the  middlemost, 
and  is  always  j)laced  in  that  order,  Shem, 
Ham,  and  Japheth.  But  the  description 
agrees  perfectly  well  with  Canaan,  the 
grandson  of  Noah  ;  and  it  was  customary 
amo.ng  the  Jews  to  call  the  grandchildren 
the  sons  of  their  grandfather.  Gen.  xxix. 
5;   1  Chron.  i.  17. 

Canaan,  it  is  added,  "  was  alone  cursed." 
The  words  would  run  smoother  if  transposed 
in  this  maiHier,  Canaan  alone  was  cursed. 
As  for  the  fact,  that  wants  some  better 
confirmation  than  my  lord's  bare  assertion. 
To  me  it  is  evident,  that  Ham  was  not  ex- 
empted from  the  curse.  What  !  if  it  did 
not  fall  upon  him  in  person,  yet  to  be  pun- 
ished in  his  offspring,  must  be  very  affect- 
ing, and  no  less  afflicting. 

But  hold ;  my  lord  has  forestalled  us  in 
this  reply.  Instead  of  waiting  for  it,  or  ac- 
quiescing in  it,  he  plays  it  upon  us  with  an 
air  of  triumph.  "  Will  it  be  said,"  this 
has  been  said,  "that  Ham  was  punished  in 
his  posterity,"  (p.  11 1.)  It  has,  and,  with 
his  lordship's  leave,  I  will  venture  to  say  it 
again.  Nor  should  I,  in  case  Lord  Boling- 
broke  was  alive,  have  went  faither  than  his 
own  breast  for  a  proof  of  my  assertion. 
Would  he,  with  all  iiis  exalted  ideas  of  li- 
berty, have  thought  it  no  punishment  on 
himself,  provided  he  had  been  the  father  of 
children,  to  have  heard  them  doomed  to  a 
state  of  slavery,  nay,  to  be,  as  he  very  right- 
ly explains  the  sacred  phrase,  '•  the  vilest 
and  worst  of  slaves  ?"  especially  if,  like 
Ham,  he  was  appointed,  in  the  course  of 
jirovidence,  to  be  the  fatlit-r  of  several  na- 
tions ;  a'ld  if  the  doom  had  been  pronounc- 
ed by  a  person,  of  whose  prophetic  spirit 


BOLINGBROKE'S  LETTERS. 


693 


{here  was  so  incontestible   an  evidence  as 
the  luiiveisiil  iniijidation  was  of  Noah's  ? 

Since  my  lord  has  no  comnuiiiication 
with  u.'-  or  our  affairs,  I  appeal  to  any,  to 
every  parental  hewrt.  Let  nature,  fond, 
compassionate,  yearning  nature,  speak, 
whether  the  infliction  of  such  a  penalty  on 
the  son  (|)erhaps  a  favourite  son,  like  Jo- 
seph,) the  son's  sons,  and  the  latest  posteri- 
ty, whether  this  he  not  properly  a  punish- 
ment of  the  father  ?  whether  the  father  must 
not  fee!  by  anticipation,  what  his  wretched 
progeny  must  endure  in  reality?  Nature 
once  spoke  to  such  a  query,  and  this  was 
her  language  ;  "  O  my  son  Absalom  !  my 
son,  my  soa  Absalom  !  would  God  I  had 
died  for  thee  1  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my 
son  !"  2  .Samuel  xviii.  33.  Did  history 
ever  record,  or  poetry  ever  invent,  so  me- 
lancholy a  moan  ?  It  bres^thes  the  very 
soul  of  wo,  and  exemplifies  the  sentiment 
which  his  lordship  would  explode. 

David,  it  is  plain,  was  punished  in  the 
calamitous  exit  of  this  young  prince,  in  the 
disasters  sustained,  and  the  disorders  com- 
mitted, by  his  other  children,  2  Samuel  xii. 
]U.  Adiim  thought  himself  punished  in  the 
ruin  which  he  brought  upon  the  human 
race,  and  laments  it,  in  the  most  pathetic 
terms,  as  the  severest  distress  attending  his 
apostasy.  One  wiser  than  Adam,  one 
greater  than  David,  whose  judgment  is  al- 
ways according  to  truth,  is  evidently  of  the 
same  opinion  ;  and,  for  that  reason,  has 
formed  the  sanction  of  a  most  sacred  com- 
inandinent  upon  this  very  principle  ;  "  He 
will  visit  the  iniquities  of  the  fathers  upon 
the  children,  unto  the  third  and  fourth  gen- 
eration of  them  that  hate  him."  What  God 
lias  so  ex[)ressly  threatened,  he  has  actually 
done  ;  not  on  this  only,  but  on  various  other 
emergencies.  Thus  Esau  suffered  in  his 
descendants,"  Jehu  in  his  family,  Hosea  i. 
4,  and  Hezekiah  in  his  children,  Isaiah 
xxxix.  6,  7  ;  who  all,  like  the  Canaanites, 
were  childien  of  their  father's  disobedience, 
inheritors  of  their  sin  as  well  as  of  their 
name.  But  this  would  anticipate  the  reply 
to  another  objection. 

Where  is  the  equity  of  cursing  a  people 
that  are  yet  unborn  ?  Does  not  this  "  con- 
tradict all  our  notions  of  order  and  of  jus- 
tice ?"  It  may  be  contrary  to  our  notions, 
or  at  least  it  would  be  unjustifiable  in  our 
practice  ;  but  it  is  quite  otherwise  with  re- 
gard to  the  all-seeing  God.  Is  it  not 
agreeable  to  the  strictest  rules  of  justice  for 
a  magistrate,  when  he  lias  heard  the  wit- 
nesses, summed  Bp  the  evidence,  and  found 
the  prisoner  guilty  ;  is  it  not  agreeable  to 
the  strictest  rules  of  justice  to  pass  sentence 


•  Compare  Gen.  xxvii.  40,  with  2  Sam  viii.  14. 
"Thou  shall  serve  thy  brother;"  here  is  the  sen- 
lence.  "All  they  of  Edom  became  David's  ser- 
vants i"  here  its  execution. 


upon  such  a  criminal  ?  The  question  can 
admit  of  no  doubt.  Yet  it  is  equally  cer- 
tain, that  this  was  the  very  case  with  refer- 
ence to  the  supreme  Judge,  and  those  sin- 
ners the  Canaanites.  They  practised  the 
grossest  and  most  inhuman  idolatries,  they 
abandoned  themselves  to  the  most  horrid 
immoralities,  such  as  violated  nature,  con- 
founded all  order,  and  such  as  it  would  be 
shocking  even  to  mention.  Lev.  xviii.  24. 
Now  all  these  provoking  crimes  were  pre- 
sent to  the  view  of  him  by  whose  inspiration 
Noah  spake.  He  saw  them  with  the  same 
circumstantial  exactness  as  if  they  had  been 
already  perpetrated.  Let  us  take  these 
very  important  particulars  into  considera- 
tion, the  excessive  wickedness  of  those  na- 
tions, and  the  all-foreseeing  discernment  of 
Jehovah,  and  then  who  will  dare  to  insin- 
uate that  the  everlasting  Sovereign  acted 
unjustly ;  that  he  launched  the  lightnings 
of  his  indignation  in  an  arbitrary  manner, 
or  upon  an  innocent  people  ?  Who  will  be 
so  precipitate  as  to  affirm  with  my  lord, 
that  "  no  other  writer  but  a  Jew  coidd  im- 
pute to  the  economy  of  divine  Providence 
the  accomplishmetit  of  such  a  prediction, 
nor  make  the  Supreme  Being  the  executor 
of  such  a  curse?"  P.  1 10, 

The  former  of  those  circumstances  will 
appear  in  a  proper  light,  what  his  lordship 
calls,  "  cruelties  committed  by  Joshua  in 
the  conquest  of  the  Canaanites."  It  will 
make  them  appear  to  be  acts  of  righteous 
vengeance ;  a  much  needed  and  most  de- 
sirable extirpation  of  a  pestilent  people  ; 
altogether  as  serviceable  to  the  public  as  it 
was  formerly  to  destroy  the  wolves  from 
our  island,  or  as  it  is  at  present  to  deliver 
over  some  flagitious  malefactors  to  the  sen- 
tence of  the  law.  Yet  the  execution  of  this 
vengeance  was  delayed  year  after  year,  cen- 
tury after  century.  The  seed  of  Abraham, 
for  several  ages,  were  not  permitted  to  enter 
upon  the  possession  of  their  destined  inher- 
itance, because  "the  iniquity  of  the  Amor- 
ites,"  which  was  the  cause  of  their  exter- 
mination, "  was  not  yet  full,"  Gen.  xv.  1(!. 
Does  it  then  bes[ieak  the  man  of  integrity 
to  represent  those  proceedings  of  Joshua 
tnider  the  abhorred  image  of  cruelties, 
which  were  acts  of  a  justice  exemplary, 
salutary,  and  greatly  to  be  revered?  Is  it 
becoming  an  honest  inquirer  after  truth  to 
suggest,  without  the  least  shadow  of  proof, 
aseifisliand  malignant  reason  for  the  de- 
struction of  the  CauHsnites ;  when  a  rea- 
son, the  most  equitable  in  its  nature,  the 
most  beneficial  in  its  consequences,  is  ex- 
pressly and  repeatedly  assigned  by  the  sa- 
cred historian  ?*       This  I  refer  to  your  la- 

•  Gen.  XV.  16.  Deut.  ix.  5.  ■'•'  For  the  wickedness 
of  Ihcienacions.  the  l^ord  thy  God  doth  drive  them 
out  from  befoie  tiiee."  See  also  Lev.  xviii.  25, 
where  the  sacred  writer  describes  their  execrable  and 
unp,irauel(.d  viiene^s  by  one  of  the  stron(?eftt  «nd 


(94 


REMARKS  ON 


dyship's  decision,  who,  I  am  sure,  will  not 
err  on  the  uncharitable  extreme,  yet  I  be- 
lieve will  find  it  difficult,  with  all  your 
good  nature,  to  acquit  the  author  of  these 
Letters  from  the  charge  of  disingenuity. 

May  I  not  add,  this  way  of  foretelling, 
yet  respiting  the  punishment,  is  gracious 
both  in  itself  and  in  its  consequences  ?  In 
itself;  because  a  reprieve  is  always  reckon- 
ed an  alleviation  of  the  sentence,  even 
though  it  be  not  the  forerunner  of  a  par- 
don. In  its  consequences  ;  because  it  af- 
forded large  space  for  recollection,  and 
should  have  awakened  the  offenders  to  a 
sense  of  their  guilt.  It  should  have  incited 
them  to  use  all  possible  diligence  to  avert 
the  doom,  both  by  a  personal  reformation, 
and  by  educating  their  families  religiously. 
Why  did  they  not  act  as  King  Ahab  acted, 
(1  Kings  xxi.  27,  29;)  and  argue  as  the 
men  of  Nineveh  argued,  (Jonah  iii.  9,)  in 
a  following  age,  but  on  a  like  occasion  ? 
Instead  of  this,  instead  of  betaking  them- 
selves to  consideration  and  prayer,  to  re- 
pentance and  amendment,  they  ran  to  the 
same,  to  greater  excess  of  ungodliness. 

So  that  these  people,  being  evidently  in- 
heritors of  their  father's  sinful  nature,  and 
obstinately  persisting  in  their  father's  sinful 
ways,  were  most  deservedly  partakers  of 
his  curse.  And  though  God  is  thatincon- 
trollable  Sovereign,  "  who  giveth  not,"  is 
under  no  obligation  to  give,  "  account  of 
any  of  his  matters,"  Job  xxxiii.  13;  though 
he  often  has  reasons  for  his  dispensations, 
absolutely  unsearchable  by  any  mortal ; 
yet  here  he  is  clearly  vindicated  even  before 
men,  even  before  the  sinners  themselves. 
They  themselves  must  confess  the  justice 
of  their  doom  ;  and  own,  that  "  God  hath 
done  righteously,  but  they  have  done  wick- 
edly ;"  that  God  has  showed  all  long-suf- 
fering, and  given  full  warning  before  the 
blow  fell,  whereas  they,  notwithstanding 
this  forbearance  and  this  admonition,  have 
continued  incorrigible,  and  v^fithout  any 
other  change  but  that  of  becoming  more  con- 
summately vile. 

Agreeably  to  all  this,  and  conformably 
to  the  most  acknowledged  rules  of  equity, 
it  is  declared  by  the  sacred  historian,  that 
the  Amorites,  the  descendants  of  Canaan, 
suffered  not  till  they  had  filled  up  the  mea- 
sure of  their  iniquities.  Gen.  xv.  16  ;  their 
own  as  well  as  their  father's.  All  which, 
I  should  imagine,  is  sufficient,  not  only  to 
justify  the  counsels,  but  to  glorify  the  judg- 
ments of  the  great  Jehovah  ;  sufficient  also 
to  satisfy  any  inquirer  who  is  (as  my  lord 
very  handsomely  expresses  himself)  "  can- 


did, but  not  implicit ;  willing  to  be  inform- 
ed, yet  curious  to  examine." 

My  lord's  curiosity  to  examine,  shall  I 
say  ?  or  his  :-esolution  to  be  dissatisfied, 
proceeds  still  farther.  Accordingly  he  adds, 
"  Who  does  not  see  that  the  curse  and 
the  punishment  in  this  case  fell  on  Canaan 
and  his  posterity,  exclusively  of  the  rest  of 
the  posterity  of  Ham  ?"  p.  110,  112.  The 
particle  of,  so  frequently  repeated  in  a  sin- 
gle sentence,  can  hardly  be  admired  as  an 
elegance*  of  speech.  But  taking  no  more 
notice  of  such  little  blemishes,  I  shall  consi- 
der the  weight,  not  the  polish  of  his  lordship's 
arguments.  As  for  this  argument,  I  verily 
think,  when  laid  in  the  balance  of  impartiality 
and  candour,  it  will  be  found  wanting.  For, 
admitting  the  objection  in  its  full  scope,  what 
follows  ?  Why,  that  the  righteous  God  par- 
doneth  some  criminals,  vi'hen  he  might  justly 
punish  all.  And  if  it  should  have  pleased  the 
supreme  Judge  to  repeal  the  sentence,  and 
remit  the  penalty,  with  regard  to  some  of- 
fenders, who  shall  arraign  his  conduct  ?  who 
shall  censure  his  providence  ?  To  exercise 
mercy  is  his  great  prerogative  ;  an  act  not 
of  debt,  but  of  royal  bounty,  which  he  ex- 
ercises when  and  to  whom  it  seemeth  good 
in  his  sight :  "  1  will  have  mercy  on  whom 
I  will  have  mercy,"  Rom.  ix.  16,  is  his  high 
and  holy  resolve. 

I  might  therefore  answer  his  lordship's 
question  by  asking  another,  which  I  might 
propose  in  the  plain  but  solemn  words  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ :  "  If  these  are 
spared,  while  those  are  punished,  v\'hat  is 
that  to  thee  ?  Is  thine  eye  evil  because  God 
is  good  ?"  But  I  shall  rather  reply  to  the 
objection  by  denying  the  fact.  The  punish- 
ment was  not  confined  to  Canaan  and  his 
posterity.  It  reached  the  other  descendants 
of  Ham  ;  Misraim  himself,  the  father  of  the 
Egyptians  (as  will  be  shown  in  a  proper 
place)  not  excepted.  Canaan,  it  is  true,  is 
particularly  mentioned  ;  because  he  was  (as 
from  this  very  circumstance  is  extremely 
probable)  an  accomplicef  with  Ham  in  the 
breach  of  filial  duty  ;  because  this  branch 
of  the  family  was  more  than  ordinarily  cor- 
rupt, nay,  beyond  measure  vicious  ;  because 
the  Canaanites  were,  in  the  first  place,  and 
in  the  fullest  manner,  to  feel  the  efiects  of 
the  curse  :  And  Moses,  being  chai-ged  with 


boldest  figures  imaginable.  So  vile  they  were  that 
the  very  country  loathed  them,  and  was  weary  of 
bearing  them  :  "  The  land  itself  vomiteth  out  her  in- 
habitants." 


*  This,  and  one  or  two  preceding  remarks  of  the 
same  nature,  are  scarcely  worth  our  notice,  were  it 
not  to  put  a  query  upon  the  popular  notion,  that  his 
lordship's  style  is  so  correct,  elegant  and  noble,  as  to 
be  a  standard  for  fine  writing.  It  cannot,  in  my  ap- 
prehension, justly  claim  this  honour. 

t  This  is  rendered  still  more  credible,  by  that  par- 
ticularity of  style  which  the  Scripture  uses  in  speak- 
ing of  Ham.  Ham  the  father  of  Canaan,  Gen.  ix. 
18,  22.  Why  of  Canaan  so  especially  ?  Had  he  no 
other  children,  no  other  sons  ?  Several  other.  But 
this  distinction  seems  to  be  a  brand  of  infamy  set 
upon  the  ofl'ender ;  and  intimates,  that  he  who  was 
father  of  Canaan  by  blood,  was  his  partner,  was  his 
brother  in  iniquity. 


BOLINGBROKE'S  LETTERS. 


695 


a  commission  to  execute  the  vengeance  on  i 
this  people  only,  had  no  occasion  to  concern 
himself  with  any  other.  Just  as  the  sheriff 
of  a  county,  demanding  the  body  of  a  con- 
demned malefactor,  produces  the  dead- war- 
rant for  his  execution,  without  intermed- 
dling, or  thinking  himself  under  any  neces- 
sity to  intermeddle  with  the  other  prisoners 
in  the  jail.  This  leads  me  to  a  new,  and, 
if  I  judge  right,  hy  far  the  most  important 
inquiry,  namely,  whether  the  curse  was  exe- 
cuted as  well  as  pronounced  ? 

As  I  hasten  to  the  proof  of  this  particu- 
lar, my  lord  embarrasses  and  retards  me 
with  a  fresh  obstacle.  He  himself  has 
thought  proper  to  inform  us,  "  why  the  pos- 
terity of  Canaan  was  to  be  deemed  an  ac- 
cursed race."  But  he  lets  the  world  know 
"  it  is  not  so  easy  to  account  why  the  poste- 
rity of  the  righteous  Shem,  that  great  ex- 
ample of  filial  reverence,  became  slaves  to 
another  branch  of  the  family  of  Ham  during 
more  than  fourscore  years,"  p.  1 12.  1  am 
by  no  means  convinced  that  the  point  pro- 
posed enters  into  the  merits  of  our  cause. 
Should  the  reasons  for  this  dispensation  re- 
main an  impenetrable  secret,  yet,  if  we  clear 
up  the  propriety,  and  demonstrate  the  equi- 
ty, of  the  curse  denounced,  we  compass  our 
main  end,  and  confute  the  grand  censure. 
However,  as  the  question  is  presented,  it 
shall  be  considered ;  and,  though  his  lord- 
ship should  affect  to  sneer,  I  choose  rather, 
in  imitation  of  those  noble  writers  whose 
dignity  1  would  assert,  to  be  serious. 

Why  were  the  Israelites  sojourners  in 
Egypt  ?  A  reason  occurs  that  is  worthy  of 
a  gracious  God,  and  greatly  for  the  public 
good — that  they  might  carry  thither  the 
knowledge  of  the  everlasting  Jehovah,  and 
of  the  promised  Messiah,  of  the  only  accep- 
table method  of  worship,  and  the  only  ef- 
fectual way  of  salvation.  As  Egypt  was 
the  parent  of  literature,  and  the  fountain- 
head  of  science  ;  as  men  of  letters  and  cu- 
riosity came,  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  to 
complete  their  studies  at  Egypt ;  if  these 
heavenly  doctrines  were  received  there,  they 
would  be  more  likely,  some  streams  of  them 
at  least,  to  be  transfused  into  all  climes  and 
improve  every  nation.  So  that  the  people 
of  the  Lord,  the  only  depositories  of  divine 
philosophy,  were  settled  in  this  land  of  ge- 
neral resort,  with  much  the  same  wise  and 
beneficent  views  as  the  ablest  professors  of 
learning  iu-e  placed  at  our  famous  universi- 
ties. 

But  why  were  they  slaves  in  Egypt? 
This  might  be  to  try  them,  and  to  humble 
them  ;  to  show  them  what  was  in  their 
heart,  and  to  purge  out  their  dross.  We 
are  taught  in  Scripture,  that  the  Almighty 
chastens  whom  he  loves,  and  scourges  the  men 
whom  he  receiveth  to  himself.  Even  the 
heathen   classics,  my  lord's   favouiite  au- 


thors, have  frequently  remarked.  That  ad- 
versity is  a  school,  in  which  both  private 
persons  and  public  societies  have  learned 
the  most  heroic  virtues.  Besides,  this 
might  be  intended  to  animate  and  inspirit 
the  Israelites  for  their  invasion  of  Canaan. 
They  were  in  the  general  a  supine  and  gro- 
velling* set  of  people.  Had  they  been 
settled  in  a  state  tolerably  easy,  or  in  terri- 
tories that  were  but  moderately  commodi- 
ous, they  might  never  have  aspired  after  the 
land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey  ;  never 
have  made  any  resolute  efforts  to  possess 
their  destined  inheritance.  But,  being 
driven  by  the  lash,  and  instigated  by  the 
goad,  of  pungent,  galling  slavery,  they  were 
even  constrained  to  burst  the  chains,  and 
push  their  way  to  liberty  and  Canaan. 
Their  insupportable  slavery  was  somewhat 
like  bending  the  bow,  and  straining  the 
string,  in  order  to  launch  the  arrow.  Far- 
ther, God  Almighty  assures  Abraham,  that 
his  seed,  though  enslaved  for  a  while,  should 
come  out  of  their  bondage  with  great  sub- 
stance. Gen.  XV.  14,  with  the  silver,  the 
gold,  the  jewels,  and  the  choicest  treasm'es 
of  Egjpt.  So  that,  when  labouring  for 
their  task-masters,  they  were  in  fact  labour- 
ing for  themselves.  The  wealth  of  the  op- 
pressors was  laid  up  for  the  oppressed  ; 
and  the  season  of  their  affliction  in  the 
enemy's  country  was  like  the  rigorous  cold 
of  winter,  which,  far  from  obstructing,  only 
makes  preparation  for  the  blossoms  of 
spring,  and  the  fruits  of  autumn.  These 
considerations  might  have  solved  the  diflS- 
culty  to  his  lordship  as  a  politician. 

Other  reasons  are  suggested  by  our  di- 
vines, which,  if  my  lord  had  thought  it 
worth  his  while  to  regard,  might  have  given 
better  satisfaction,  and  yielded  more  edifi- 
cation. They  would  have  reminded  the 
right  honourable  querist,  that  such  a  gloomy 
aspect  of  the  Jewish  affairs  made  way  for 
the  brightest  manifestation  of  God's  glori- 
ous attributes ;  of  his  power  in  rescuing 
them  from  their  tyrannical  rulers ;  of  his 
faithfulness  iji  fulfilling  his  promise  made 
to  their  fathers  ;  of  his  goodness  in  sup- 
porting and  conducting  them — keeping 
them,  amidst  the  most  formidable  dangers, 
as  the  apple  of  an  eye  ;  and  bearing  them, 
even  through  the  most  insuperable  difficul- 
ties, as  on  eagles'  wings,  f  This  also  opened 
a  most  conspicuous  theatre  for  that  amazing 
train  of  miracles  which  kive  been,  in  all  ages, 
as  serviceable  to  the  faith  of  Christians,  as 
they  were  formerly  conducive  to  the  welfare 


»  Let  none  imagine  that  the  wisdom  of  God  is  im- 
peached l)y  selectini;  lo  himself  a  people  of  this  cha- 
racter. His  clcmcni  y,  his  forbearance,  and  all  tho^e 
beiii);n  perfections  wliich  are  so  necessary  for  the  sal- 
vation of  sinners,  are  hereby  displayed  with  peculiar 
advantage,  and  to  our  unspeakable  consolation. 

t  .See  Deut.  xxxii.  10,  11.  These,  I  think,  ar« 
most  delightful  and  ininiitably  delitate  representa- 
tions. 


696  REMARKS  ON 

of  the  Jews.  They  would  farther  have  in- 
formed his  lordship,  and  have  confirmed 
their  opinion  by  apostolical  authority,  that 
the  whole  of  this  most  wonderful  transac- 
tion was  typical  of  spiritual  things  ;  was  a 
series  of  living  lessons,  delivered,  according 
to  the  eastern  method  of  conveying  know- 
ledge, in  figures  and  emblems.  The  Egv])- 
tian  bondage  was  a  resemblance  of  our  na- 
tural condition,  which  is  a  state  of  the  most 
abject  slavery  to  sin.  The  arbitrary  and  in- 
jurious impositions  of  the  task-masters 
shadow  forth,  though  but  faint))',  the  tyranny 
of  unruly  appetites  and  imperious  passions. 
The  barbarous  edict  for  the  destruction  of 
all  the  infant  males,  fitly  enough  represents 
the  genuine  tendency  of  carnal  and  corrupt 
affections,  which  destroy  our  true  comfort, 
subvert  our  noblest  interests,  are  as  death 
to  the  joys  and  to  the  hopes  of  our  souls. 
Their  deliverance  from  that  miserable  state 
was  an  expressive  sign  of  our  redemption 
from  the  guilt  and  the  dominion  of  sin.* 
Both  whicli  the  Lord  Jesus  accomplishes, 


stead,  abolishing  death,  and  making  it  a  safe, 
as  well  as  a  short  transition  to  life  eternal. 

You  will  excuse  me,  madam,  for  expati- 
ating upon  these  topics.  They  are  so  in- 
vitintr,  so  jjlensing,  so  comfortable,  that  I 
can  hardly  jjersuade  myself  to  leave  them. 
If  any  other  jjarts  of  the  epistle,  through  a 
kind  of  unhajjpy  necessity  ;ilmost  insepara- 
ble from  controversy,  should  resemble  the 
asperity  of  the  thorn,  this,  I  hope,  will  bear 
some  affinity  to  the  fragrance  of  the  rose. 
For  which  cause  it  is,  that  I  choose  only  to 
touch,  and  but  lightly  touch,  the  otie,  while 
I  would  open  the  other  into  a  wide  expan- 
sion, and  a  rich  tiriision.  Let  me  add  one 
more  observation  on  this  head,  and  I  have 
done.  It  is  apprehended,  by  very  judici- 
ous persons,  that  the  punishment  of  the 
Egyptians,  and  their  total  overthrow,  may 
be  a  presage  of  the  misery  and  ruin  which 
will  sooner  or  later  fall  upon  individuals  and 
nations  that  reject  the  glorious  gospel,  and 
vilify  its  sacred  repository,  Tlie  Bible. 

If  the  reasons   I  have  offered  are  neither 


the  one  by  price,  the  other  by  power  :  not  i  tiresome  nor  unsatisfactory  to  your  ladyship, 
by  slaying  the  first-born,  but  by  shedding'  I  shall  proceed  the  more  cheerfully  to  show 
his  own  blood  ;  not  by  softening  rocks  j  that  the  curse  was  executed  as  well  as  pro- 
"into  a  stream,  but  taking  away  the  heart  |nounced.  Had  it  been  the  senseless  extra- 
of  stone;  not  by  turning  the  cuirent  of  j  vagance  of  a  man  intoxicated  with  liquor,  or 
Jordan  backward,  but  by  turning  all  our  the  rash  imprecation  of  a  man  heated  with 
desires  into  a  new  channel.  The  many  resentment,  or  the  designing  interpolation 
troubles  and  oppositions  they  met  with  in  of  some  crafty  statesman,  would  the  holy, 
the  wilderness,  exhibit  a  lively  picture   of  [the  gracious,  the   true   God,  have  set  the 


the  molestations  that  attend,  and  the 
temptations  that  assault  the  Christian. 
Trials  await  us  :  Snares  are  around  us  : 
Through  many  conflicts,  and  much  tribula- 
tion, we  must  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  Only  let  us  beware,  lest,  like  the 
ungrateful  Israelites,  we  forget  the  God  of 
our  salvation,  and  fall  after  the  same  exam- 
ple of  unbelief.  The  cloud  that  was  spread 
over  them  by  day,  to  intercept  the  glare, 
and  screen  them  from  the  heat  of  the  sun  ; 
the  fire  that  shone  before  them  in  the  night, 
to  cheer  the  nocturnal  darkness,  and  lead 
them  through  the  trackless  desert ;  were 
not  these  very  amiable  and  exact  emblems 
of  our  Saviour's  merits,  and  of  his  holy 
word  ?  The  former  of  which  are  refreshing 
to  the  guilty  conscience,  as  the  veil  of  a 
thick  interposing  cloud  is  welcome  to  a  tra- 
veller in  sultry  climes.  The  latter  is  a  light 
to  our  feet,  and  a  lantern  to  our  paths,  to 
guide  us  in  the  way  everlasting.  Their 
passage  through  Jordan,  the  priests  that 
bare  the  ark  of  the  covenant  going  before 
them,  (Joshua  iii.  13,  l*,  &c.)  and  standing 
in  the  midst  of  the  river,  till  all  the  congre- 
gation were  passed  over  ;  this  very  empha- 
tically prefigured  our  great  High-priest, 
bearing  our  sins,  fulfilling  the  law   in  our 


,  *jThe  divine  writer  to  the  Hebrews,  makes  the 
land  of  Canaan  typical  of  ■•  a  better  country,  even  of 
0n  heavenly."    Heb.  xi.  16;  xii.  22. 


broad  seal  of  heaven  to  it  ?  would  he,  who 
overrules  all  events,  have  suffered  it  to  suc- 
ceed, have  commanded  it  to  succeed,  nay, 
have  brought  it  himself  to  pass  by  a  mighty 
hand  and  stretched  out  arm  ?  Impossible 
to  conceive.  If,  therefore,  it  was  really 
brought  to  piiss,  and  with  a  surprising  punc- 
tuality, and  not  by  any  competency  of  hu- 
man means,  but  by  the  most  evident  display 
of  divine  power,  this  will  be  such  a  proof  of 
its  credibility,  its  reasonableness,  and  equity, 
as  no  one  who  thinks  reverently  of  the 
Deity  can  deny. 

Canaan  was  to  be  a  servant  to  Shem. 
This  was  accomplished  when  the  Israelites, 
the  descendants  of  Shem,  conquered  the 
land  of  Canaan,  slew  thirty  of  its  kings,  and 
took  possession  of  their  cities,  Joshua  xi*. 
24;  when  the  Gibeonites  particularly,  who 
composed  one  of  their  principal  states,  Jo- 
shua x.  2,  became  "  hewers  of  wood  and 
drawers  of  water  to  the  congregation."  Jo- 
shua ix.  27  ;  or,  in  other  words,  the  most 
menial  servants  to  the  lowest  of  the  people. 

By  what  instruments  was  this  extniordi- 
nary  revolution  wrought?  by  one  of  the 
finest  armies  in  the  east  or  west?  marshall- 
ed by  the  bravest  officers,  and  headed  by 
the  most  experienced  general  ?  No  ;  but 
by  raw,  undisciplined,  enslaved  people,  who 
were  destitute  of  military  skill,  and  withoir 
any  personal  qualifications,  or  warlike  appa. 


BOLINGBllOKE'S  LETTERS. 


697 


nitus  for  so  LlifTicult,  so  dangerous  an  enter- 
prise. 

Through  wbi^t  obstacles  was  it  begun, 
carried  on,  and  ecnipleted  ?  l:i  sjjite  of  the 
attenii)ts  of  one  potent  monarch  to  detain 
them  in  servitude  ;  in  spite  of  the  resolution 
of  several  combined  kings  to  dispute  with 
them  evi  ry  inch  of  ground  to  tiie  last  drop 
of  their  blood.  A  deep  river  and  an  arm 
of  the  seu  must  be  crossed  by  six  hundred 
thousand  men,  with  their  wives,  their  chil- 
dren, their  cattle  ;  and  without  any  vessel 
to  transi)ort  them,  or  any  Ijridge  to  transmit 
them.  They  muat  dwell  forty  years  in  a 
desolate,  inhos])itable,  barren  wilderness, 
which  was  inlested  by  ravenous  beasts,  and 
fiery  Hying  serpents  ;  in  which  there  was 
neither  water  nor  corn,  nor  any  sort  of  ac- 
commodation for  abode,  or  sustenance  for 
life. 

How  were  all  these  difficulties  surmount- 
ed ?  Not  by  the  arm  of  flesh  ;  this  was 
utterly  ini])racticable ;  but  by  the  most  as- 
tonishing interpo^iition  of  Omnipotence. 
The  Egyptian  tyrant  is  humbled,  and 
brought  to  their  terms,  by  tiie  intlictioti  of 
ten  tremendous  plagues.  The  waters  of 
the  river  are  dried  uj),  and  the  waves  of  the 
great  deep  are  divided,  so  as  to  yield  thejn 
a  safe  unobstructed  passage.  A  stream 
gushes  even  from  the  liard  rock,  and  gives 
them  drink,  as  it  had  been  out  of  the  great 
depths.  Prodigious  quantities  of  manna* 
descend  with  every  morning  dew,  and  sup- 
ply thcin,  not  from  the  garner,  but  from 
heaven,  with  their  daily  bread.  Vast 
flights  of  quails  arrive  with  every  setting 
sun,  and  drop,  like  a  bird  shot  through  the 
wing,  "  in  the  midst  of  their  camp,  and 
lound  about  their  habitations."  The  walls 
of  an  impregnable  city  fall  to  the  ground  at 
the  blast  of  nuns  hoi  ns,  Joshua  vi.  The 
sun  stands  still  in  the  midst  of  heaven  at 
the  voice  of  a  man,  Joshua  x.  \'2,  13.  All 
the  hosts  of  the  nations,  with  all  their  wea- 
pons of  war,  are  "driven  asunder  as  the  foam 
upon  the  waters,  and  cut  off  as  the  toj)s  of 
the  ears  of  corn." 

And  is  it  probable,  can  it  be  possible, 
that  every  element,  and  all  nature,  should 
not  only  concur,  but  alter  their  established 
course,  depart  from  the  fundamental  laws 
of  their  creation,  on  purpose  to  ratify  what 
was  bolted  out  by  the  patriarch  in  a  drunken 
revel,  or  foisted  into  the  text  by  some  He- 
brew Machiavelian  ? 

Canaan  was  to  be  servant  also  to  Japheth. 


*  We  are  not  to  think  that  the  manna  took  its 
name  from  any  resemblance  to  the  medicinal  drui;, 
which,  amonf5  us,  is  so  commonly  known  and  so  free 
qnently  used.  It  is  ratlicr  derived  from  tlie  .ilirupt 
expression  of  the  Israelites,  on  their  first  beholding 
this  wondcrtul  food.  Tlicy  cried  out  with  amaze- 
jncnt,  Mini  ilv  :'  What  is  this  ?  Which  exclama- 
tion, denoting  tlicirown  surprise,  and  the  unexpected 
iis  well  as  unparalleled  nature  of  the  gift,  became 
both  a  memorial  of  the  one  and  a  denomination  of 
the  other. 


Pursuant  to  tliis  prediction,  did  not  the 
Greeks  and  Komans,  who  derive  their 
lineage  from  Japheth,  make  themselves  mas- 
ters of  the  residue  of  Canaan?  Tyre, 
built  by  the  Sidonians,  and  Thebes  by  Cad- 
mus, were  both  destroyed  by  Alexander  the 
(Grecian.  Carthage,  founded  by  Dido,  was, 
after  a  long  succession  of  losses,  and  a  vast 
effusion  of  blood,  demolished  by  Scipio  the 
Roman  ;  which  losses  made  Hannibal,  a 
child  of  Catiaan,  cry  out,  with  a  mixture  of 
astonishment  and  despondency,  "  Aynosco 
fortunam  Carthat/i/iis  .'"*  i.  e.  "  I  see  plain- 
ly the  hand  of  destiny  working ;  1  see  that 
oracular  dooin  hasting  to  its  accomplish- 
ment, in  these  dreadful  calamities  sustained 
by  Carthage  !" 

If  these  facts  are  true,  which  base  the 
unanimous  consent  of  historians  for  their 
support,  what  can  we  say  of  his  lordship's 
assertion,  "  That  Canaan  was  servant  to 
Shem,  though  not  to  Japheth?"  (p.  111.) 
This,  1  am  apprehensive,  will  be  found 
as  false  as  the  following  objection  is  weak, 
in  which  he  urges,  that  "  Canaan  was  ser- 
vant to  one  of  his  uncles,  not  to  his  bre- 
thren," (p.  HI.)  Such  a  cavil  (for  cer- 
tainly it  deserves  no  better  name)  discovers 
an  utter  ignorance  of  the  Hebrew  jthraseo- 
logy,  or  else  a  strange  inattention  to  it.  I 
would  not  say,  an  egregious  misrepresenta- 
tion of  it.  I  thought  every  one  had 
known,  till  Lord  Bolingbroke  undeceived 
me,  that  nothing  is  more  common  in  the 
oriental  itliom,  than  to  express  any  relatives 
of  the  male  line  by  the  denomination  of 
brethren.! 

1  hope  your  ladyship  will  not  think  this, 
or  any  of  my  other  remarks,  indecently  free. 
In  the  presence  of  the  most  high  God,  all 
men  are  upon  a  level.  When  the  honour 
of  his  divine  word  or  glorious  attributes  is 
concerned,  we  are  to  "know  no  man  after 
the  flesh,"  2  Cor.  v.  Id  ;  pay  no  deferen- 
tial regard  to  the  distinctions  of  birth  or 
elevations  of  character.  In  these  lists, 
the  privileges  of  peerage  cease  ;  and  I 
should  reckon  myself  the  most  abject  of 
creatures,  if,  through  respect  of  persons,  I 
should  palliate  or  secrete  the  truth,  when  the 
ever-venerable  oracles  of  inspiration  are 
treated  with  contempt.  A  violation  of  de- 
cency this  !  by  whatever  hand  it  is  otVered, 
or  from  whatever  (juarter  it  conies,  incom- 
paiably  more  flagrant  than  scuiuLdum  iiuKjna- 
tum- 

Pardon,  madam,  this  digression,  and  per- 
mit me  farther  to  observe,  That  the  progeny 
of  Ham,  in  another  line,  are,  to  this  very 
day,  the  slaves  of  the  whole  trading  world  : 
The  negroes   I    mean ;  whose    descent   is 

»  Vid.  Liv.  Lib.  xxvii.  ad  fniem. 

t  SeeCen.  xiii.  U;  where  Abraham  and  Lot,  though 
uncle  and  nephew,  are  called  brethren,  Gen.  xxiv. 
4a;  where  Bethuel,  another  of  .'Abraham's  nephews, 
is  styled  his  brother,  Gen.  xvi.  12;  xxiv.  27. 


fl98  REMARKS  ON 

from  that  unhappy  man.  And  what  is 
their  country  but  the  market  of  slavery  ? 
Are  not  their  persons  bought  and  sold  as 
the  meanest  commodities  ?  are  they  not 
debased  to  the  most  sordid,  and  harassed 
with  the  most  toilsome  drudgery  ?  made,  in 
the  strictly  literal  sense  of  the  phrase,  ser- 
vants of  servants  ? 

I  have  not  forgotten  what  I  promised  to 
make  appear  with  relation  to  the  Egyptiajis, 
neither  shall  I  overlook  what  his  lordship  has 
remonstrated  from  the  same  quarter.  "  The 
descendants  of  Misraim,"  he  says,  "ano- 
ther of  the  sons  of  Ham,  were  the  Egyp- 
tians ;  and  they  were  so  far  from  being 
servants  of  servants  to  their  cousins  the 
Shemites,  that  these  were  servants  of  ser- 
vants to  them,"  (p.  112.)  For  a  season 
they  were  ;  but  this  servitude  was  calculat- 
ed for  the  good  of  their  community,  and 
redounded  to  the  glory  of  their  God.  It 
terminated  in  such  a  signal  deliverance,  as 
brought  honour  and  opulence  to  themselves, 
confusion  and  ruin  to  their  enemies.  Does 
't  then  follow,  from  this  temporary  super- 
iority of  the  Egyptians,  which<  ended  in  so 
disastrous  a  maimer,  that  they  were  except- 
ed in  the  denunciation  of  the  curse,  or  fa- 
voured with  an  act  of  indemnity? 

What  says  the  supreme  Arbitrator? 
"  The  nation  whom  they  serve  will  I  judge," 
Gen.  XV.  li  ;  I  myself  will  punish,  not  by 
any  human  instruments,  but  by  my  own 
immediate  hand.  Accordingly,  they  were 
visited  with  the  most  dreadful  and  destruc- 
tive plagues.  In  the  last  of  which,  the  fii  st 
born,  the  flower  of  their  kingdom,  were  cut 
off;  and  at  length  their  king  and  his  whole 
army  perished  in  the  Red  Sea.  Does  my 
lord  make  no  account  of  these  most  terrible 
and  unexampled  judgments  ? 

Besides,  what  was  the  condition  of  this 
people  in  the  following  ages  ?  If  we  con- 
sult Ezekiel,  he  will  declare  it  as  clearly  by 
the  spirit  of  prophecy  as  if  he  had  lived  on 
the  spot,  and  seen  the  face  of  affairs. 
Ezek.  XXX.  20,  21,  23  ;  xxix.  15,  xxx.  18. 
"  And  it  came  to  pass,  in  the  eleventh  year, 
in  the  first  month,  in  the  seventh  day  of  the 
month,  that  the  word  of  the  Lord  came 
ruito  me,  saying.  Son  of  man,  I  have  bro- 
ken the  arm  of  Pharaoh  king  of  Egypt ; 
and  lo,  it  shall  not  be  bound  up  to  be  heal- 
ed, to  put  a  roller  to  bind  it,  to  make  it 
strong  to  hold  the  sword.  I  will  scatter 
the  Egyptians  among  the  nations,  and  will 
disperse  them  through  the  countries. 
Egypt  shall  be  the  basest  of  kingdoms,  nei- 
ther shall  it  exalt  itself  any  more  among  the 
nations.  And  there  shall  be  no  more  a 
prince  of  the  land  of  Egypt."  Is  not  all 
this  confirmed  by  ancient  historj',  and  by 
the  present  state  of  Africa  ?  From  the 
one  we  learn  that  the  Egyptians  were  sub- 
ject first  to  the   Persians,  next  to  the  Gre- 


cians, then  to  the  Romans,  afterwards  to 
the  Arabs.  And  from  the  other  it  appears 
that  they  now  wear  the  Turkish  yoke  ;  are 
governed,  not  by  a  prince  of  their  owii,  but 
by  the  Grand  Seignior  and  his  Bashaws. 

Nay,  let  any  person  look  round  upon  all 
the  countries  peopled  by  the  progeny  of 
Ham,  and  I  am  much  mistaken  if  he  does 
not  find  them  what  the  Psalmist  describes, 
"  dark  places  of  the  earth,  and  full  of  the 
habitations  of  cruelty,"  Psalm  Ixxiv.  20 ; 
the  dens  of  rapine,  and  the  dungeons  of  ig- 
norance, where  slavery  drags  the  chain,  and 
tyranny  lifts  the  scourge.  Insomuch  that 
we  need  not  scruple  to  say,  in  the  empha- 
ticaJ  words  of  Joshua,  "  Not  one  thing  has 
failed  of  all  the  good  or  the  evil  things 
which  the  Lord  spake  by  the  mouth  of 
Noah,  concerning  each  of  his  sons  respec- 
tively. All  are  come  to  pass,  not  one  thing 
has  failed,"  Joshua  xxiii.  14. 

This  calls  upon  me  to  clear  up  another 
part  of  the  prediction,  the  blessing  pro- 
nounced upon  Shem,  and  the  enlargement 
promised  to  Japheth  ;  which  will  afford  a 
new  argument  to  maintain  the  authenticity 
of  the  passage,  and  assert  its  divine  inspira- 
tion. 

I  said,  the  blessing  pronounced  upon ; 
because  I  would  not  translate  the  words, 
"  Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of  Shera,  but, 
Blessed  of  the  Lord  God  is  Shem."  This 
will  put  a  striking  contrast  between  the 
doom  of  the  irreligious  scoffer,  and  the  re- 
ward of  filial  piety  ;  this  is  what  we  natur- 
ally expect  from  a  God  who  is  not  unrighte- 
ous to  forget  his  people,  and  their  labours 
of  love  :  this  sense  the  original  language 
will  very  commodiously  bear,*  and  the 
event  seems  to  require.  For  how  manifest- 
ly, how  eminently,  was  this  benedictive  sen- 
tence fulfilled  !  since  in  the  posterity  of 
Shem  the  church  of  God  was  established, 
and  his  true  worship  propagated.  From 
him  the  Redeemer  of  mankind,  that  bless- 
ing of  blessings,  according  to  the  flesh, 
sprung. 

The  great  enlargement  of  Japheth's  ter- 
ritories is  no  less  certain,  and  no  less  re- 
markable. He  had  for  his  possession  the 
isles  of  the  sea  westwai'd,  and  the  fine  ex- 
tensive countries  near  them,  Spain,  Italy, 
Greece,  Asia  the  Less,  all  Europe,  and  the 
vast  regions  towards  the  north,  which  aiici- 
entlythe  Scythians,  nowthe  Tartars  inhabit, 
from  whom  the  Americans,  the  people  of 
the  new  world,  seem  to  be  derived.  By 
Japheth's  dwelling  in  the  tents  of  Shem,  is 
meant  the  conversion  of  the  European 
Gentiles   to  the  gospel  of  Christ ;  who, 


*  Gen.  ix.  26.  Words  of  the  very  same  import  in 
the  very  same  construction,  are  thus  rendered  by  our 
translators,  Deut.  xxxiii.  13,  and  will  hardly  admit 
of  any  other  interpretation,  "  Blessed  of  the  Lord," 
&c. 


BOLINGBROKE'S  LETTERS. 


699 


through  a  long  progression  of  years,  were 
"  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel, 
strangers  to  the  covenant  of  promise,  having 
110  hope  of  eternal  life,  and  without  any 
saving  knowledge  of  God  \n  the  world," 
Eph.  ii.  12  ;  but  were  in  due  time  per>uad- 
ed  to  embrace  the  true  faith,  were  made  (as 
the  apostle  elegantly  speaks,  and  in  a  strain 
perfectly  corresponding  with  the  language 
of  our  prophecy),  "fellow-citizens  with  the 
saints,  and  of  the  household  of  God."  Eph. 
ii.  19.  An  event  altogether  as  undeniable 
as  it  is  important,  delightful,  and  glorious. 

Upon  the  whole,  1  cannot  but  think  that 
his  lordship  has  planted  his  battery,  and 
played  his  artillery,  if  not  like  an  unskilAd, 
at  least  like  an  unsuccessful  engineer.  He 
has  planted  his  battery  against  a  place  too 
well  fortified  to  admit  of  any  impression, 
and  that  must  infallibly  triumph  over  every 
assault.  He  has  so  played  his  artillery,  that 
it  recoils  upon  himself,  and  crushes  his  own 
design.  And  this,  I  apprehend,  will  always 
be  the  issue,  when  men,  even  of  the  finest 
genius,  and  most  im])roved  capacities,  pre 


had  significant  ceremonies  by  which  they 
were  rejnesented.  They  were  publicly  read 
in  t!ie  synagogues,  and  universally  known 
through  the  nation.  It  was  a  duty  of  reli- 
gion to  talk  of  them  l)y  day,  to  meditate  on 
tlieiii  by  night,  and  diligently  to  instruct  the 
children  in  them.  And  weie  not  these  cir- 
cumstances a  security,  an  inviolable  secu- 
rity, against  any  attempt  to  corrupt,  to  inno- 
vate or  alter  ?  So  that  their  writings  appear 
with  every  character,  both  internal  and  ex- 
ternal,  of  gemiine  truth,  and  with  the  most  un- 
questionable credentials  from  the  God  of 
power,  and  God  of  wisdom. "  Consequently 
they  have  a  credibility  of  their  own,  suffi- 
cient both  to  claim  and  to  support  the  faith 
of  an  ancient  Jew  ;  such  as  must  command 
the  assent  of  every  rational  and  honest  in- 
quirer, even  before  the  Christian  dispensa- 
tion took  place. 

If  my  lord  had  duly  adverted  to  these  con- 
siderations, surely  he  would  have  expunged 
that  bold  and  rash  assertion,  "  Without 
Christianity  we  have  no  obligation  to  be- 
lieve the  Old  Testament,"  p.  94.    Surely  he 


sume  to  attack   the   Scriptures  of   eternal   would  never  have  left  behind  him  that  un  war- 


truth. 

This  very  passage,  instead  of  depreciat- 
ing, unspeakably  ennobles  the  divine  writ- 
ings. It  shows  that  they  henr  the  stamp  of 
that  all-overruling  power  which  purposes, 
and  none  shall  disannul  it ;  of  that  all-com- 
prehending knowledge  which  discerns 
events  long,  long  before  they  come  into  ex- 
istence. And  let  any  unprejudiced  reader 
judge  what  degree  of  esteem  those  books 
may  fairly  challenge,  whose  least  considera- 
ble, or,  in  his  lordship's  opinion,  "  most 
obnoxious"  parts,  have  such  a  depth,  and 
such  a  dignity  of  wisdom  !  such  as  will  be 
admired  and  revered  so  long  as  historic  truth 
has  any  credit,  or  commercial  intelligence 
any  being. 

Shall  1  trespass  upon  your  ladyship's  pa- 
tience a  little  farther?  The  penmen  of  the 
Old  Testament  carry  all  the  marks  of  the 
most  disinterested  and  undesigning  sinceri- 
ty. They  record  the  failings  of  their  fa- 
vourite and  most  illustrious  heroes,  without 
concealing  the  punishment  iiifiicted  on  such 
miscarriages.  I'he  uniform  tendency  of  their 
narratives  and  observations  is  to  ])iomote  a 
religion  the  most  pure,  the  most  benevolent, 
the  most  elevated  imaginable ;  as  remote 
from  all  selfish  aims,  and  every  low  art  of 
collusion,  as  the  heavens  are  higher  than  the 
earth.  They  were  men  singularly  (jualilied 
for  their  work  ;  being  either  eye-witnesses 
of  the  facts  they  relate,  or  else  contempo- 
raries with  the  persons  they  describe,  or 
still  more  remarkably  (listinguished  by  their 
ability  to  work  miracles,  and  their  insight 
into  futiu'ity.  As  to  the  facts  related,  some 
of  them  had  anniversary  solemnities  on  which 
they  were  comincmoiated ;  some  of  them 


rantable  and  injurious  insinuation,  that  the 
Hebrew  original  deserves  no  better  credit 
than  the  fabulous  storyt  of  the  Septuagint 
translation,  nor  have  found  any  reason  to 
protest  that  he  knew  of  no  rule  to  go  by, 
(p.  lUU,)  (in  settling  the  degree  of  assent 
due  to  the  several  parts  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment), but  the  fanciful  distinction  which 
has  already  been  examined.  He  would  ra- 
ther have  found  reason  to  adopt  and  subscribe 
Agur's  confession  of  faith  ;  a  man  who  was 
famous  in  his  own,  who  will  be  famous  in 
every  generation  ;  and  for  this,  among  other 
most  judicious  maxims,  "  Every  word  of 
God  is  pure,"  Prov.  xxx.  5.  It  is  all  gold, 
fine  gold,  without  any  the  least  alloy. 

For  my  own  part,  I  freely  acknowledge 
to  your  iadyshi]),  that  I  value  the  sacred 
history  (even  exclusive  of  its  connexion  with 
the  transcendent  glories  of  Christ,  and  the 
unspeakable  benefits  of  redemption)  on  the 
very  same  principles  which  incline  our  con- 
noisseurs to  value  those  celebrated  antiqui- 
ties they  call  medals,  singular,  because  it  is 
supposed  there  is  but  one  ot  the  sort  extant. 
Considering  the  private  interests  and  jier- 
sonal  attachments  which  are  so   apt  to  biiis 


*  Another  very  extraonlinary  peculiarity  in  these 
writings,  and,  to  me  at  least,  an  umlinibtcd  proof 
that  their  autliors  were  divinely  inspired,  is  their  per- 
fect agreement  and  entire  consistency  througliout. 
Thonijh  they  were  composed  by  difterent  men,  placed 
in  very  dirt'erent  stations  of  life,  and  flourishmjj  in 
very  distant  ages  of  llie  world,  yet  they  are  as  conson- 
ant and  harmonious  .as  if  they  had  all  been  penned  by 
the  same  hand.  Any  thing  equal  to  this  1  never  saw, 
never  heard  of,  and  I  believe  the  most  inveterate  or 
most  sagacious  adversaries  of  the  Old  Testament  will 
not  attempt  to  produce  a  parallel. 

t  The  story  is  told  page  Wl.  The  insinuation  is 
made  in  a  prolix,  confused,  and  obscure  paragraph 
page  87. 


700 


REMARKS  ON 


the  human  mind,  considering  the  imperfect 
information  and  ignorance  of  causes,  to 
which  all  other  writers  are  unavoidably  sub- 
ject, 1  cannot  but  conclude,  that  the  sacred 
history  is,  in  point  of  strict,  precise,  univer- 
sal veracity,  sirfjular.  There  is  none  othei 
besides  this,  no  not  one  in  the  whole  world, 
that  is  free  from  all  the  false  colourings  of 
prejudice,  clouded  with  no  mixture  of  un- 
certainty, most  minutely  true,  and  to  be  de- 
pended on  in  every  particular.  The  sacred 
history  is  not  only  seated  on  the  throne  of 
truth,  but  in  these  respects,  possesses  it 
without  a  rival. 

Lord  Bolingbroke  is  fond  of  Davila,*  be- 
cause Davila  discovers  the  hidden  springs 
of  action,  and  trHces  up  almost  every  enter- 
prise to  its  source,  p.  167.  Is  this  so  val- 
uable a  qualification  in  the  Italian  ?  How 
then  should  we  admire  the  inspired  histo- 
rians, who  disclose  to  us,  not  the  secret 
measures  of  a  couit,  but  the  unsearchable 
counsels  of  Heaven  ;  not  the  little  motives 
that  actuate  the  jiolitician,  but  the  deep  de- 
signs of  the  universal  sovereign  ;  and  all 
this,  not  from  precarious  surmise,  but  with 
the  fullest  assurance  ?  An  excellency  to 
which  no  other  narrative  on  earth  can  lay 
any  claim. 

The  Scriptures  throw  light  upon  the 
most  memorable  transactions  that  have 
passed  in  the  heathen  world,  and  are  re- 
corded by  the  classic  authors.  When  the 
Assyrian  monarch   subdues  kingdoms  and 


person,  and  all  the  gracious,  the  benign 
majesty  of  his  mediatorial  offices, — from  the 
original  promise  made  to  our  first  parents, 
through  all  its  progressive  evolutions,  till  he 
arises  in  the  New  Testament  "as  the  only 
begotten  of  the  Father,"  John  i.  li;  with 
a  lustre  and  dignity  suitable  to  so  divine  a 
personage  ;  which  is  an  event  of  such  in- 
comparable coiUiescension,magnifice!ice,  and 
grace,  that  all  the  prophets  bear  witness  to 
it,  Acts  X.  is,  and  the  "  very  angels  desire 
to  look  into  it,"  1  Pet.  i.  12. 

How  then  must  your  ladyship  be  sur- 
prised to  see  Lord  Bolingbroke  undertaking 
to  assign  the  principal  scope  of  the  Mosaic 
history,  (p.  109,)  (the  former  part  of  it  at 
least),  and  not  enlarging,  not  dwelling  upon, 
no,  nor  so  much  as  mentioning  the  Re- 
deemer, that  all-glcrious,  all-important  Re- 
deemer, who  is  the  sum  and  substance  of 
the  whole  Scriptures  ;  the  Alpha  and  Ome- 
ga in  all  the  revelations  of  God ;  of  whom 
Moses  wrote,  John  v.  46,  and  whose  day 
Abraham  saw,  John  viii.  56  ;  whose  right- 
eousness was  preached  by  Noah,*  and  his 
final  advent  foretold  by  Enoch,  Jude  14; 
whose  merits,  apprehended  by  faith,  were 
therecommendation  of  Abel's  sacrifice,  Heb. 
xi.  4,  and  the  consolation  of  Adam,  Gen. 
iii.  15,  under  the  loss  of  immortality,  and 
expulsion  from  paradise  ;  from  whom  many, 
if  not  all,  the  antediluvian  patriarchs  borrow 
their  honours,  and  stand  upon  everlasting 
record,  chiefly  as  being  in  the  number  of  his 


ravages  nations,  we  are  apt  to  think  he   is  '  progenitors.     This  capital  omission  is  (to 
only  gratifying  his  insatiable  ambition.  But  I  use  his  lordship's  own  language)  "a  mani- 


the  Scripture  assures  us,  that  he  was  "  the 
staff  in  Jehovah's  hand,  and  the  rod  of  his 
indignation,"  Isa.  x.  5  ;  an  instrument  made 
use  of  by  the  King  of  kings  to  execute  his 
righteous  vengeance.  When  Cyrus  is  ha- 
bituated to  all  the  noble  exercises,  educated 
in  all  the  fine  accomplishments  that  form 
the  gallant  prince  and  constitute  the  com- 
plete general,  Xenophon  sees  nothing  more 
than  the  exertion  of  human  policy.  But 
Isaiah  beholds  the  all-superintending  arm' 
of  the  Lord  girding  his  hero,  Isa.  xlv.  5 ; 
and  preparing  him  for  the  deliverance  of  his 
people.  So  that  the  Scripture  history  is 
itself  the  grandest  and  most  useful,  while 
its  intercurrent  observations  are  a  key  to 
ojien  the  most  celebrated  affairs  which  give 
weight  and  estimation  to  other  annals. 

The  grandest  and  most  useful.  This 
will  ajipear  to  be  more  than  a  bare  assertion, 
if  we  recollect  that  here  is  a  display  of  that 
great  Messiah,  who  is  "  the  hope  of  Israel," 
Acts  xxviii.  20,  and  "  the  desire  of  hII  na- 
tions," Haggai  ii.  7  ;  a  display  of  him  in 
his  mysterious    iiicaruation,    his  wonderful 

•  He  wrote  a  history  of  the  civil  wars  of  France, 
in  fifteen  hooks,  coiitaminp;  all  that  was  remarkable, 
.from  the  death  of  lleury  II.  in  155y,  to  the  peace  of 
Vervius,  iu  ii'M 


fest  abuse  of  sacred  history,  and  quite  in- 
excusable in  a  writer  who  knew,  or  should 
have  known,"  (p.  178,)  that  in  its  most 
early,  as  well  as  in  its  later  periods,  it  in- 
variably testifies  of  Christ,  John  v.  39. 

Thus  to  undertake,  and  thus  to  execute, 
is  as  if  some  pretender  to  anatomy  should 
engage  to  explain  the  nature  of  animal  mo- 
tion, and  say  not  a  word  concerning  the 
nerves,  the  muscles,  the  heart;  or,  as  if 
some  smatterer  in  geography  should  offer  to 
exhibit  a  complete  map  of  our  country,  and 
leave  entirely  out  of  his  plan  the  cities,  the 
towns,  and  the  rivers.  Yet  this  is  not  the 
only  incident  on  which  my  lord,  however 
critical  in  profane  literature,  discovers  him- 
self to  have  been  very  remiss  iu  the  studyj 
at  least  very  superficial  in  the  knowledge, 
of  his  Bible. 

From  which  hint  I  would  take  occasion 
to  entreat,  and  with  the  most  aflfectionate 
earnestness,  all  that  are  inclined  to  dispute 
against  this  divine  book,  first  to  make  them- 
selves thoroughly  acquainted  with  it.  And 
would  they  once  set  about  the  momentous 


*  2  Peter  ii.  5.  It  can  hardly  be  doubted  but  Noah 
preached  the  very  same  righteousness  of  which  lie 
himself  was  an  heir;  and  that,  we  are  assured,  waj 
the  righteousness  of  faith,  Hebrews  xi.  7. 


BOLINGBROKE'S  LETTERS. 


701 


work  with  a  candid,  upright,  and  impartiiJ  they  arc  admirably  well  adapted  to  inculcate 

mind,  free  from  the  jaundice  of  prejudices,  those  fundamental  lessons  of  practical  reli- 

not  blinded  with  tlie  fumes  of  self-conceit,  gion,  a  continual  advertence  to  God,  a  be- 

nor  intoxicated  witii  tiiccup  of  vicious  plea-  lieving  dependence  on  God,  and  an  habitual 


sure  ; — if  they  wouhl  thus  examine  the  in- 
spired volumes,  they  would  soon  perceive 
such  a  lovely  constellation  of  truth,  of  wis- 
dom, and  of  grace,  shining  forth  from  every 
page,  as  must  turn  their  disesteem  into  ad- 
miration, and  their  aversion  into  delight.  j 
But  if  they  bring  with  them   a   fondness 


expectation  of  success  in  our  schemes,  not 
merely  from  any  address  or  industry  of  our 
own,  hut  from  the  all-jjowerful  benediction 
of  God,  which  are,  of  all  other  precepts, 
])i'rhaps  the  most  salutary  and  beneficial  to 
mankind. 

My  remarks  would  be  immoderately  pro- 


for  fame,  a  haughty  self-sulhciency  of  spirit,    lix  were    they  to  enumerate  all  the   perfec 


or  an  ignoble  attachment  to  sensual  grati 
cations  ;  if  they  are  determined  to  cherish, 
and  will  on  no  consideration  divorce  these 
seducers  of  the  heart  and  pervertcrs  of  the 
judgment,  we  cannot  wonder  that  tlie  Scrip- 
tures should  api)ear  to  them  with  much  the 
same  aspect  as  the  miraculous  cloud  appeared 
to  the  Egyptians,  which  threw  darkness  on 
their  paths  and  shed  horror  on  their  souls, 
even  while  it  gave  light  to  the  steps  and 
alacrity  to  the  liopcs  of  the  Israelites,  Exo- 
dus xiv.  '20.  In  this  case  we  may  assign 
a  reason  for  their  opposition,  from  the  un- 
happy circumstances  recorded  of  Ishmael, 
Genesis  xvi.  12  :  Their  hand,  their  tongue, 
their  pen,  is  against  the  word  of  God,  be- 
cause  the  word  of  God  is  against  them, 
their  tempers,  and  their  ways. 

In  the  sacred  narrations  we  behold  "  the 
arm  of  the  Lord  revealed."  Other  histo- 
rians only  guess  at  the  interposition  of  an 
avenging  or  propitious  God.  And  though 
conjectures  of  this  kind  occur  but  very  rare- 
ly in  their  works,  they  are  frequently  cen- 
sured as  a  presumptuous  intrusion  upon  the 
arcana  of  heaven.  But  the  peinnen  of 
Scripture,  with  unerring  certainty,  declare, 
"  This  is  the  Lord's  doing" — a  stroke  fi'om 
the  sword  of  his  justice,  2  Chron.  x.  15; 
XV.  G  ;  XXV.  20  ;  xxviii.  5,  6  ;  xxix.  8,  9  ; — or 
a  reward  from  the  riches  of  his  goodness, 
2  Chron.  xii.  7  ;  xiii.  15,  16,  18  ;  xiv.  G,  12  ; 
xxvi.  5  ;  xxvii.  6. " 

Here  we  perceive,  as  in  the  brightest 
mirror,  what  practices  he  favours,  and  what 
methods  he  opposes  ;  what  courses  are  at- 
tended with  his  blessing,  and  what  behavi- 
our provokes  his  displeasure.  These  re- 
cords set  before  us  the  most  striking  exem- 
plilications,  both  of  the  divine  threatonings 
and  of  the  divine  promises ;  demonstrating, 
from  repeated  experience,  that  tlie  former 
are  more  than  vain  menaces,  the  latter  are 
far  from  alluring  fallacies,  I3y  which  means 


*  I  refer  to  the  Chronicles  rather  than  to  the  other 
parts  of  sacred  history,  in  order  to  create  a  higher 
esteem  for  these  excellent  memoirs.  I  would  com- 
pare them  to  some  noble  mine,  whose  surface  is  bar- 
ren ami  seems  to  iiuhide  nothing  valuable.  But  as 
you  pcuv-trate  the  soil,  the  treasure  opens.  The 
deijief  you  go,  the  more  rich  ,  you  find ;  and,  instead 
of  regretting  the  h'Me  'oil  of  .ippliration,  you  fire 
only  grieved  that  you  undertook  tnc  gainful  sc;;rch 
uo  sooner. 


tions  of  sacred  history.  1  shfdl  content  my- 
self with  wishing  that  your  ladyship  may 
esteem,  may  reverence,  may  love  the  whole 
book  of  God,  only  in  proportion  to  its  worth. 
Then,  I  am  persuaded,  it  will  have  your 
highest  esteem,  your  profoundest  reverence, 
and  most  devoted  love. 

Befoie  I  conclude,  give  me  leave,  ma- 
dam, to  make  one  request,  which  I  make 
under  a  sense  of  my  various  obligations  to 
your  ladyship,  with  all  the  engaging  acts  of 
your  condescetision  and  generosity  full  in 
my  view.  It  ought  therefore  to  be,  and  it 
really  is,  expressive  of  the  most  unfeigned 
thankfulness  for  your  favours,  and  of  the 
truest  zeal  for  your  happiness.  It  is  this, 
That  you  would  carry  on  a  daily  inte-conrse, 
and  cultivate  a  holy,  an  intimate  familiarity 
with  the  inspired  writers,  and  their  inestim- 
able volumes.  Read  them — recollect  them 
— weigh  thetn.  Contemplate  them  in  their 
magnificent  whole,  in  their  beautilul  parts, 
and  their  harmonious  connexions. 

I  should  be  afraid  to  recommend,  in  this 
zealous  maimer,  and  to  this  assiduous  peru- 
sal, the  most  correct  compositions  that  ever 
proceeded  from  a  human  pen.  But  here 
I  am  under  no  apprehension  of  your  ex- 
hausting the  nnne,  and  complaining ofemp- 
tiness  ;  under  no  apprehension  lest  the  en- 
tertainment should  flatten  upon  your  taste, 
and  create  disgust.  The  more  we  search 
tliose  storehouses  of  wisdom,  the  better  we 
understand  those  oracles  of  truth,  the  more 
they  will  approve  themselves  to  our  judg- 
ment, and  !)ecome  dearer,  still  dearer  to  our 
affections.  The  pages  of  Scripture,  like  the 
productions  of  nature,  will  not  only  endure 
the  test,  but  improve  upon  the  trial.  The 
api)lication  of  the  microscope  to  the  one, 
and  a  repeated  meditation  on  the  other,  are 
sure  to  display  new  beauties,  and  present 
us  with  higher  attractives.  Nay,  the  very 
attempts  of  an  adversary  to  blacken  the 
Scriptures,  serve  only  to  increase  their  lus- 
tre. For  my  part,  1  never  should  have  seen 
the  prediction  of  Is'oah  rising,  with  such 
perspicuity,  propriety,  and  glory,  to  obser- 
vation, had  not  Lord  Bolingbroke  made  an 
clfort  to  overwhelm  it  with  objections,  and 
sink*  it  into  discredit. 


•  An  allusion  to  the  motto  in  the  title  page,  "  Mtr- 


702 


REMARKS  ,hc. 


Above  all,  we  may  bring  to  this  best  of 
studies  an  humble  mind,  a  mind  deeply 
sensible  of  its  own  ipnoranee  and  weakness, 
yet  frequently  and  cheerfully  lifted  up  to 
God  for  his  enlightening-  and  animating 
Spirit ;  that,  by  his  blessed  influences,  our 
"  understandings  may  be  opened  to  under- 
stand the  Scriptures,"  Luke  xxiv-  45,  and 
our  "  hearts  opened  to  receive  them,"  Acts 
xvi.  14  ;  to  understand  them  in  all  the  ful- 
ness of  their  heavenly  meaning,  to  receive 
them  in  all  the  force  of  their  transforming 
power;  that,  reading  the  threatenings,  we 
may  tremble*  at  the  awful  word,  and  ac- 
knowledge ourselves  justly  liable  to  those 
terrible  judgments  ;  but  at  the  same  time 
believe,  that  "  Christ  has  delivered  us  from 
the  curse  of  the  law,  being  made  a  curse  for 
us,"  Gal.  iii.  13:  that  reading  the  promises, 
we  may  confess  ourselves  unworthy  of  an 
interest  in  such  unspeakable  blessings  ;  yet 
rest  assured,  that  "  all  the  promises  of  God 
are  yea  and  amen  in  Christ  Jesus,"  2  Cor. 
i.  20 ;  are  our  imquestionable  portion, 
through  his  merits  and  atonement,  and  will 
certainly  be  ■fulfilled  through  his  intercession 
and  faithfulness.  Reading  the  precepts, 
let  us  rejoice  in  the  belief  that  our  Saviour, 
obedient  unto  death,  has  fulfilled  them  per- 
fectly for  our  justification  ;  that  our  Savi- 
our, exalted  unto  heaven,  has  engaged  to 
"  put  his  Spirit  within  us"  for  our  sanctifi- 
cation ;  "causing  us  to  walk  in  his  statutes, 
and  to  keep  his  judgments  and  do  them," 
Ezek.  xxxvi.  27.  Contemplating  the  var- 
ious examples,  may  we  use  some  of  them  as 
admonitory  sea-marks  to  avoid  the  rocks  of 
sin ;  use  others  as  a  conducting  clue  to 
guide  our  feet  into  the  way  of  peace  ;  use 
all  as  so  many  incitements  to  awaken  our 
circumspection  or  quicken  our  diligence  in 
"  making  our  calling  and  election  sure." 

Then  we  shall  have  another  proof  that 
the  original  of  these  holy  books  is  not 
from  man,  but  from  the  Lord  Jehovah  ;  a 
proof  which  some  people  may  explede  as 
imaginary  or  enthusiastical,  but  is  really  of 
the  utmost  solidity,  and  of  the  last  import- 
ance ;  which,  though  by  no  means  indepen- 
dent on,  much  less  exclusive  of,  other  evi- 
dences, is  nevertheless  to  each  individual 
person  incomparably  more  valuable  than 
any,  or  every  other  attestation.     We  shall 


ces  pro/undo,  pulchrior  eoenit,"  anil  expressive  of  its 
meaning. 

*  See  Ezra  x.  3;  2  Chron.  xxxiv,  27,  where  it 
might  not  be  amiss  to  compare  the  temper  of  true 
believers,  and  the  behaviour  of  an  illustrious  king, 
with  the  spirit  that  runs  throug'i  his  lonlshiu's  per- 
formance. 


"  have  the  witness  in  ourselves,"  I  John  v. 
10.  We  shall  experience  on  our  own  souls 
the  happy  energy  of  the  Scriptures.  They 
will  be  theinstrumentof  workingsuchalively 
faith  in  Christ,  such  an  ardent  love  of  God, 
such  a  cordial  benevolence  for  our  fellow- 
creatures,*  as  cannot  fail  to  exalt  our  desires, 
refine  our  affections,  and  dignify  our  tem- 
pers ;  such  as  will  administer  comfort  under 
affliction,  and  impart  an  additional  relish  to 
prosperity;  such  as  will  teach  us  to  order 
our  conversation  right  amidst  all  the  snares, 
all  the  labyrinths  of  time;  and  gradually  train 
us  up  for  the  pure  bliss  and  consummate 
enjoyments  of  eternity. 

May  this  proof,  madam,  be  written  or» 
your  heart,  written  in  bright  and  indelible 
characters,  written  by  the  finger  of  the  liv- 
ing God  !  Then,  I  am  assured,  every  at- 
tempt to  stagger  your  belief,  or  withdraw 
your  veneration  from  the  Bible,  will  be  like 
an  attempt  to  shatter  the  rock  in  pieces 
with  a  bubble,  or  to  pierce  the  adamant 
with  a  feather.  This  is  not  only  the  sincere 
wish,  but,  so  long  as  religion  and  gratitude 
have  any  place  in  my  breast,  it  will  also  be 
the  earnest  prayer  of  your  Ladyship's  much 
obliged,  and  most  obedient  humble  servant, 
James  Hervey. 

April  22,  1752. 

P.S. — I  have  taken  no  notice  of  his 
lordship's  animadversions  relating  to  the 
genuineness  of  the  gospel  history,  because 
this  would  be  entering  upon  ,e  new  field, 
which  I  leave  open  and  untouched  for  some 
more  able  defender  of  that  invaluable  depo- 
situm  :  not  that  I  apprehend  there  is  any 
thing  very  formidable  in  the  attack ;  but  1 
think  it  would  be  serviceable,  as  I  am  per- 
suaded it  is  easy,  to  show  the  weakness  and 
unreasonableness  of  those  arguments  which 
men  of  superior  abilities  are  obliged  to  take 
up  with,  when  they  list  themselves  under  the 
banner  of  scepticism  or  infidelity.  It  would 
also  be  apiece  of  public  justicetoinquire  into 
the  sincerity,  probity,  and  consistency  of 
those  writers,  who,  in  some  places,  lay  a 
mighty  stress  upon  the  authority  of  the 
New  Testament  (page  Oi,)  in  others,  en- 
deavour to  sap  the  very  foundation  of  its 
credibility,  (page  177.) 


*  This  is  what  his  lordship  means,  or  ought  to 
mean,  when  he  speaks  of  the  proper  force  of  religion ; 
that  force  which  "  subdues  the  mind,  and  awes  the 
conscience  by  conviction,"  p.  182.  And  I  am  well  as- 
sured, whatever  he  may  surmise  to  the  contrary,  that 
this  voucher  to  the  real  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures,  j 
and  divine  original  of  Christianity,"  is  not  wanting."        I 


CONSIDERATIONS 

ON  THE 

PREVAILING  CUSTOM  OF  VISITING  ON  SUNDAYS- 


The  sentiments  here  offered  against  the 
prevailing  custom  of  profaning  the  Sabbath, 
will  probably  be  a  satisfaction  to  every  se- 
rious  reader,  and  be  productive  of  much 
good  ;  especially  as  it  is  in  every  body's 
power  to  reform  one,  and  as  then  his  own 
conduct  will  be  a  tacit  reproof  to  his  ac- 
quaintance, who  may  probably,  through  his 
example,  be  induced  to  weigh  these  pro- 
ceedings attentively,  and  no  longer  follow  a 
multitude  to  do  evil.  It  is  certainly  a 
matter  of  importance  to  inquire,  whether 
Sunday  visits  are  justifiable  upon  the 
principles  of  Scripture  and  of  reason  ? 
as  the  conscientious  observation  of  the 
Sabiiath  has  of  late  years  been  so  much 
disregarded,  and  as  it  is  now  become  the 
principal  day  of  visiting  among  persons  of 
all  ranks.  The  chief  advocates  for  the 
continuance  of  such  a  practice  should,  me- 
thinks,  defend  it  publicly,  that  their  argu- 
ments may  be  properly  examined,  if  (in 
their  opinion)  such  a  custom  can  admit  of 
any  rational  defence.  And  those  who  are 
sufficiently  convinced  by  what  is  here  ad- 
vanced, should  resolve  to  discontinue  Sun- 
day visits  themselves,  and  discountenance 
them  in  others  as  far  as  they  can,  consis- 
tent with  decency  and  prudence.  That 
the  number  of  such  well  disposed  persons 
may  be  daily  increasing,  is  undoubtedly  the 
hearty  wish  of  every  one  who  is  sincerely 
desirous  of  promoting  the  glory  of  God, 
and  the  good  of  mankind. 

Q.    Whether  it  be  right  for  trvhj  religious 
Persons  to  visit  on  Sundays  ? 

The  persons  here  mentioned  are  the 
truly  serious.  As  to  many  people,  it  mat- 
ters not  whether  they  are  at  home  or 
abroad  :  God  is  not  in  all  their  thoughts  ; 
they  have  no  concern  for  their  eternal  wel- 
fare ;  they  therefore  are,  in  every  place, 
altogether  and  alike  unprofitable. 

But  when  we  begin  to  discern  the  things 
that  are  excellent,  when  we  sincerely  desire 
to  "  obtain  salvation,  with  eternal  glory,  by 
Jesus  Christ,"  then,  whether  it  be  proper 
to  fall  into  the  prevailing  custom  of  visiting 
on  Sundays  ?  is  the  question. 


Were  our  companions  religious,  and  was 
our  conversation  edifying,  I  should  make 
no  scruple  to  give  my  voice  in  the  affirma- 
tive. Every  parlour  would  then  be  a  little 
sanctuary,  would  echo  back  the  exhortations, 
and  second  the  designs  of  the  pulpit ;  and 
we  might  truly  say,  "  It  is  good  for  us  to 
be  here." 

But,  alas !  where  do  we  find  such  com- 
pany ?  when  do  we  hear  such  conversa- 
tion ?  The  general  conversation  is  all  im- 
pertinence, not  so  much  as  seasoned  with  a 
spice  of  religion.  "  They  talk  of  vanity 
everyone  with  his  neighbour,"  Psalm  xii.  2. 
For  which  reason,  I  cannot  think  it  safe  or 
expedient,  allowable  or  innocent,  habitually 
to  visit  on  Sundays. 

It  is  inconsistent  with  the  best  example. 
"  I  was  in  the  spirit  on  the  Lord's  day," 
says  St.  John.  I  was  filled  with  the  com- 
munications of  the  Holy  Spirit,  giving  me 
clear  views  of  Christ,  bright  hopes  of  glory, 
and  shedding  abroad  the  love  of  God  ia 
my  heart.  But  is  this  compatible  with 
the  idle,  trifling,  insignificant  chat,  whiclx 
engrosses  our  ordinary  visits? 

Objection  I.  Will  it  be  said  the  apostl€:'s 
was  a  peculiar  case  ?  I  answer.  It  was  a 
peculiarly  happy  case.  And  will  a  prud(.'nt 
Christian  relinquish  the  prospect  of  such 
unspeakable  happiness,  for  the  most  erc.pty 
and  delusive  amusements  ?  But,  I  believe, 
it  was  not  peculiar  to  the  apostle,  rathe?,-  the 
common  privilege  of  all  believers  ;  w;  itten 
as  a  pattern  for  their  practice,  and  to  b  e  the 
plan  of  their  expectations. 

It  is  contrary  to  the  divine  prohi'.)ition. 
The  negative  law  relating  to  the  Sabbath 
is,  "  not  doing  thy  own  ways,  not  finding 
thy  own  pleasure,  not  speaking  t  hy  own 
words,"  Isa.  Iviii.  13.  "Not  doing  thy 
own  ways;"  abstaining  from  secular  I  )usiness, 
and  all  worldly  pursuits.  "  Not  fir  iding  thy 
own  pleasure  ;"  renouncing  all  thof  ic  recrea- 
tions and  amusements  which  ma  y  tend  to 
gratify  thy  taste,  not  to  glorify  thy  almigh- 
ty Lord.  "  Not  speaking  thy  o\^  n  words  ;" 
conversing  on  spiritual,  sublime,  and  hea- 
venly subjects  ;  not  on  low,  ef  rthly,  tem- 
poral matters,  which,  having  no  reference  to 
the  Creator's  honour,  are  the  refore  called 


704 


CONSIDERATIONS  ON 


"  thy  own."  However  some  people  may 
act,  or  whatever  they  may  think,  this  is  the 
express  and  unalterable  law  established  by 
the  God  of  heaven.  Whether  it  be  possi- 
ble to  mingle  in  modish  company,  and  obey 
this  law,  let  those  judge  who  are  acquaint- 
ed with  the  world. 

It  breaks  the  divine  command.  The  po- 
sitive law  relating  to  the  Sabbath  is,  "  Re- 
member the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy." 
Remember,  take  particular  notice  of  this 
injunction.  It  is  a  duty  greatly  to  be  re- 
garded, and  most  conscientiously  to  be  ob- 
served. Upon  the  due  observance  of  this, 
our  disposition  and  ability  to  observe  the 
other  precepts  in  good  measure  depends. 
"  Keep  it  holy  ;"  devote  it  to  holy  pur- 
poses ;  spend  it  in  holy  exercises  ;  and  not 
only  an  hour  or  two,  not  barely  the  intervals 
of  private  and  public  devotion,  but  the  day, 
the  Sabbath  day,  the  whole  day.  Neither 
will  the  whole  day  be  too  long,  if  we  make 
conscience  of  discharging  the  several  duties 
of  religion,  I'eading  and  meditation,  prayer 
and  praise,  teaching  our  children,  and  in 
structing  our  domestics,  examiniii 
hearts,  and  taking  heed  to  our  ways 


iv.  30.  Christians  believe  that  he  is  infi- 
nitely wise,  all-gracious,  and  ever  blessed  ; 
that  he  dwells  in  their  hearts,  and  is  the 
source  of  all  their  holiness  and  all  their 
happiness.  Therefore  we  pray  daily  in  our 
Liturgy,  "  that  the  Holy  Spirit  may  not 
be  taken  from  us."  On  Sunday  we  com- 
memorate the  descent  of  this  divine  guest, 
and  are,  in  a  particular  manner,  to  implore 
his  presence,  and  cultivate  his  influences. 
But  can  this  be  done  by  neglecting  his  ex- 
press prohibition,  and  breaking  his  positive 
command?  by  disregarding  the  examples 
which  he  has  set  before  us,  and  dishonoiu- 
ing  that  Saviour  wliom  he  delights  to  mag- 
nify ?  Besides,  dare  any  mortal  presume 
to  say  in  his  heart,  amidst  a  circle  of  our 
polite  visitants,  "  I  am  now  acting  in  a 
manner  becoming  my  relation  to  the  eternal 
Spirit.  These  sentiments  and  this  discourse 
are  suitable  to  his  dignity,  wisdom,  and 
glory  ;  a  proper  method  of  celebrating  and 
honouring  the  day  of  his  miraculous  mis- 
[  sion  ?" 

Should  any  one  ask,  "  What  is  meant  by 
our  I  gi-ieving  the  Holy  Spirit  ?"  It  means  of- 
All '  fending   his    exalted   Majesty,   and  causing 


these  offices,    if   properly  performed,  will '  him  to  act  as  men  commonly  act  when  they 


leave  very  little,  rather  no  time  for  unne 
cessary  elopements.  And  shall  we  huddle 
over  all  these  important  offices,  or  totally 
neglect  some  of  them,  only  to  indidge  our- 
selves in  the  most  iniprofitable  levities  ?  at 
once  doing  an  injury  to  our  spiritual  inter- 
ests, and  violating  the  divine  precept. 

I  fear  it  will  be  a  kind  of  "  crucifying 
afresh  our  blessed  Master."  Heb.  vi.  6. 
This  expression  we  have  often  read,  but 
think  ourselves  free  from  the  guilt  implied 
in  it,  and  indeed  from  the  very  likelihood  of 
coiitracting  it.  But  let  us  be  reminded, 
tlwt  "  we  crucify  our  Lord  afresh,"  when 
we  give  others  occasion  to  conclude,  that 
we  have  very  little  esteem  for  him,  or  gra- 
titude to  him  ;  consequently,  that  he  has 
little  or  no  excellency  for  which  we  or 
others  should  desire  him.  Now,  what  else 
can  Ihe  world  conclude,  when  they  see  us 
giving  into  the  vanities  of  a  licentious  mode 
on  that  very  day  which  is  sacred  to  the  com- 
memoration of  his  resurrection  ?  "  Surely," 
might  the  children  of  this  world  say,  "if 
these  Christians  had  any  real  reverence  for 
their  Lord,  they  would  show  it  on  his  own 
day.  They  would  either  be  retired  to  con- 
template and  adore  him,  or  else  come 
abroad  to  exalt  and  glorify  him.  But 
they  come  abroad  lo  be  as  frothy  in  their 
talk,  and  as  tritliiig  in  their  temper,  as  for- 
getful of  their  Saviour,  and  as  regardless  of 
his  honour,  as  the  most  arrant  worldling 
ajnong  us  all."  To  afford  a  handle  for  such 
reflections,  i<  to  wound  the  Redeemer  in  the 
house  of  his  friends. 

It  will  "grieve  the    Holy  Spirit."  Eph. 


are  grieved  and  displeased  with  any  one  ; 
they  withdraw  from  his  comi)any,  and  visit 
him  no  more.  When  Samuel  was  grieved 
for  Said's  misbehaviour,  it  is  wi'itten,  "  He 
came  no  more  to  see  Saul."  If  the  al- 
mighty Comforter  be  provoked  to  deal  thus 
with  our  souls,  alas  !  what  a  loss  must  we 
sustain  !  a  loss  unspeakable,  irreparable, 
eternal ! 

So  that  if  this  practice  were  not  sinful, 
it  must  be  exceedingly  detrimental,  and  that 
not  in  one  only,  but  in  various  respects.  Have 
we  receive;!  spiritual  good  from  the  public 
ordinances  ?  The  admonition  of  Heaven  is, 
"  we  ought  to  give  the  more  earnest  heed 
to  the  things  which  we  have  heard,  lest  at 
any  time  we  should  let  them  slip,"  Heb.  ii. 
1.  By  this  practice  we  not  only  suffer  ihcni 
to  slip,  but  open,  as  it  were,  a  leak  fur 
their  immediate  discharge.  Have  we  been 
under  edifying  impjessions  from  our  private 
exercises  ?  The  unerririg  direction  is, 
"  Quench  not  the  Spirit."  Stifle  not  the 
serious  desires  which  he  has  awakened  ;  al- 
low them  their  full  scope,  tiil  they  are  form- 
ed into  gracious  habits.  By  the  practice 
under  consideration,  we  pour  water  instead 
of  oil  upon  the  feeble  flame  :  we  extinguish 
what  we  should  cherish.  Is  the  heavenly 
seed  sown  in  our  breasts  ?  These  dissi- 
jiating  interviews  are  the  ravenous  birds 
which  follow  the  seedsnian,  and  devour  the 
grain,  so  that  nothing  takes  root.  No  fruit 
of  faith,  of  joy,  or  love,  is  produced. 

Let  me  only  add,  that,  on  a  dying  bed, 
ihe  misimprovement  of  all  our  time  will  be 
most  bitterly  regretted.      How  much  more 


SUNDAY   VISITS. 


70.5 


the  misiinproVcmcMt  of  tho?e  hours  which  | 
(i()<l  hiiiisflf  has  hallowed,  has  set  apart 
for  the  noblest  purposes,  and  is  wont  to 
bless  in  an  especial  manner  I  "  While 
others  were  scckiiif^  the  pearl  of  great  price, 
and  gathering  those  treasures  of  wisdom  and 
grace  wliich  endure  to  everlasting  life,  I, 
alas !  was  squandering  away  the  precious 
op])ortuiiities  in  every  vanity."  To  see  the 
curtain  of  tinne  drojipiug,  to  see  a  vast 
eternity  opening  before  us,  and  to  have  such 
reflections  haunting  our  conscience ;  this 
will  cause  misery  not  to  be  expressed,  create 
aujiuish  not  to  be  conceived. 

Object.  II.  Mill  it  be  said,  in  answer  to 
these  considerations.  "  That  company,  even 
trifling  company,  is  a  relaxation  :  We  return 
to  the  instruction  of  our  families,  and  to 
our  evening  devotion  with  fresh  alacrity, 
being  sick  of  these  triflers  ?"  A  strange 
argument  !  It  should  rather  be  reversed. 
The  objectors  might  tiuly  say,  Being  sick 
of  religion  and  its  services,  we  want  s\ich 
triHers  to  afford  us  some  relief.  The  sin- 
cere servant  t)f  ('lirist  would  find  no  recrea- 
tion, but  feel  grief  of  heart  in  such  inter- 
views. It  must  be  a  real  affliction  to  ob- 
serve his  divine  Lord  absolutely  disregard- 
ed ;  disregarded  on  the  day  pneculiarly  de- 
voted to  his  honour ;  every  vanity  now  pre- 
ferred before  him.  as  Barabbas  the  robber 
was  formerly.  The  true  refreshment  for 
our  souls  consists  in  having  our  faith  in- 
creased, our  hope  elevated,  and  oiu-  views 
of  heaven  enlarged  ;  in  contemplating  the 
infinite  perfection  and  glory  of  our  Redeem- 
er, the  infinite  grandeur  and  fulness  of  his 
propitiation,  and  our  comjilete,  I  might  have 
said  our  infinite  security  from  wrath  and 
vengeance,  by  being  interested  in  his  merits. 

Object.  III.  "  Sunday  is  the  best  part  of 
our  time  for  this  purpose  ;  business  is  sus- 
jieiided,  every  body  is  ready  dressed,  all  cir- 
cumstances invite."  Is  it  the  best  part  of 
our  time  ?  Then  let  it  be  devoted  to  the 
best  of  Beings.  Who  is  more  worthy  of 
our  choicest  thoughts,  affections,  hours, 
than  thr'.t  divinely  compassionate  Saviour, 
who  olFered  himself,  in  the  very  prime  of 
his  life,  a  bleeding  viclim  for  our  sins,  that 
his  sacrifice  might  have  every  recommending 
circumstance  which  could  render  it  accepta- 
ble to  God,  and  available  for  man 

Object.  IV.  "  It  is  the  universal  custom  ; 
To  discontinue  it  would  render  us  unfa- 
shionable." And  cannot  you  bear  to  be  a 
little  unfashionable  for  his  sake,  who  was 
despised  and  rejected,  who  humbled  him- 
self to  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross, 
for  your  sake?  Is  it  the  universal  custom  ? 
Then  custom  is  the  idol  which  we  are 
called  to  renounce.       1  must  say  of  custom 


in  this  case,  as  Elijah  said  of  Baal,  If  cu.i- 
tom  be  God,  follow  its  dictates  ;  but  it 
.Tehovah  be  God,  observe  his  precepts. 
It  is  written  in  the  Scriptures,  Rom.  xii.  2 
"Be  not  conformed  to  this  \\-orld."  To 
what  does  this  prohibition  relate  ?  To 
such  ungodly  customs,  no  doubt.  No 
battery  of  cannon  was  ever  pointed  more 
directly  against  a  citadel  to  be  demol- 
ished, then  this  text  against  such  cus- 
toms. In  indifferent  matters  let  the  Chris- 
tian avoid  singuliU'ity  ;  let  him  dress  some- 
what like  his  neighbours  ;  let  him  make 
an  appearance  suitable  to  his  station  ; 
but  let  him  not  "  follow  a  multitude 
to  ])rofanc  the  Sabbath,  or  to  do  any  evil." 
Here  religious  pers(}iis  sliould  by  all  means 
be  singular  ;  should  distinguish  themselves 
by  a  becoming  zeal  for  their  God;  should 
set  an  example,  and  shine  as  lights  in  the 
midst  of  a  crooked  and  perverse  generation  ; 
otherwise  they  may  do,  not  themselves  only, 
but  others  also,  incredible  harm. 

Object.  V.  Some  perhaps  may  start  and 
reply,  "  If  these  things  are  so,  to  what  a 
degree  of  sinful  negligence  is  even  the 
Christian  world  arrived  ?"  With  regard  to 
the  world  called  Christian,  this  is  too  true  ; 
and  no  measiu'e  of  sorrow  can  be  sufficient 
to  be\vail  the  deplorable  degeneracy.  Ne- 
gligence, or  rather  obstinacy,  in  this  capital 
instance,  is  a  melancholy  indication  of  no 
less  disobedience  in  other  respects. 

Object.  VI.  "  This  will  be  irksome,  will 
render  our  religion  a  burden."  I  hope  no 
one  that  pretends  to  seriousness  will  offer 
to  make  this  objection.  The  sinners  in 
Zion  made  it ;  for  which  reason  they  are 
branded,  and  by  the  divine  Spirit  himself, 
with  infamy  that  will  never  be  blotted  out: 
"  O  what  a  weariness  is  it !  when  will  the 
Sabbath  and  its  irksome  solemnities  be 
gone?"  ]\Ial.  i.  1.'3,  and  Amos  viii.  3. 
This  discovers  a  heart  alienated  from  God, 
that  has  not  tasted  the  good  word  of  grace, 
and  savours  not  the  things  which  be  of 
Christ.  Otherwise  such  would  be  the  lan- 
guage, "  One  day  thus  employed  is  better 
than  a  thousand."  Psalm  Ixxxiv.  10.  Is 
it  tedious  and  burdensome  to  pass  a  single 
day  in  devout  exercises  ?  How  then  shall 
we  pass,  how  shall  we  endure  the  ages  of 
eteniity !  since  we  are  assured  that  those 
happy  beings  who  stand  around  the  throne, 
clothed  with  white  robes,  serve  their  God 
day  and  night,  for  ever  and  ever,  in  his 
temple.  In  tl'.e  regions  of  immortality 
they  find  a  heaven,  because  there  they  have 
a  never-ceasing  and  eternal  communion 
with  (iod ;  because  there  they  have  an 
uninterrupted  and  everlasting  Sabbath. 


A  TREATISE 


ON  THK 

RELIGIOUS  KDUCATION  OF  DAUGHTERS. 


Prov.  xxii.  6.—"  Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  she  should  go,  and  when  .^fte  is  old,  *fte  will  not  depart  rrom  it. 


It  has  long  been  a  prevailing  report, 
that,  among  persons  of  education  and  dis- 
tinction, true  religion  is  very  rare.  This, 
I  would  hope,  is  an  invidious  rumour,  rather 
than  a  true  representation  of  the  case. 
May  it  not  be  an  artifice  of  the  grand  ene- 
my, calculated  to  biing  the  best  and  noblest 
of  causes  into  disrepute,  as  though  polite- 
ness and  piety  were  inconsLstent,  as  though 
grace  and  good  breeding  were  irreconcil- 
able ?  Is  then  the  faith  of  Christ  quite  fatal 
to  refined  manners,  as  the  rod  of  Moses 
was  to  the  counterfeit  miracles  of  the  ma- 
gicians? No;  it  is  rather  like  the  influence 
of  the  sanctuary  on  the  rod  of  Aaron ; 
which,  while  it  remained  at  a  distance  from 
the  tabernacle,  was  a  dry,  sapless,  and 
barren  stick ;  but,  when  deposited  before 
the  ark,  was  quickened  into  vegetable  life, 
was  adorned  with  a  milk-white  bloom,  and 
enriched  with  full-grown  fruit ;  or,  as  the 
sacred  historian  expresses  this  surprising 
fact,  "  It  brought  forth  buds,  and  bloomed 
blossoms,  and  yielded  almonds."  Numb, 
xvii.  8. 

I  find  upon  the  list  of  saints  the  most  re- 
nowned kings  and  victorious  generals,  the 
ablest  politicians  and  the  greatest  philoso- 
phers ;  men  that  have  bid  the  sun  stand 
still,  and  prolong  the  departing  day;  have 
laid  an  embargo  upon  darkness,  and  pro- 
tracted the  shades  of  night ;  have  com- 
manded the  ground  to  cleave  asunder,  and 
transmit  their  presumptuous  foes  to  a  strange 
and  inevitable  destruction  ;  have  divided 
the  impetuous  waves,  and  led  their  followers 
to  safety  and  to  conquest  through  the  depths 
of  the  sea ;  men  who  have  WHlked  in  the 
burning  fiery  furnace  as  under  the  shelter  of 
an  embowering  arbour  ;  and  sat  in  the  lion's 
den,  amidst  a  herd  of  hungry  monsters,  v\ith 
as  much  serenity  and  as  much  security  as 
amidst  a  circle  of  bosom  friends. 

I  myself  have  known  various  persons  ad- 
mired for  their  accomplished  behaviour,  and 
revered  for  their  exalted  station,  who  have 
thought  it  their  highest  honour  to  be  servants 
of  Jesus  Christ.  My  excellent  friend  Ca- 
millas, at  whose  house  I  now  icside,  is  one 


of  the  number.  I  cannot  refrain  from  giv- 
ing a  portrHit  of  Camilliis,  or  rather,  of  a  few 
of  his  most  distinguishing  leatures  ;  for,  to 
paint  him  in  full  proportion,  as  he  daily  ap- 
pears in  all  the  mild,  the  benign  niHJesty  of 
domestic  authority,  parental  government, 
and  Christian  zeal ;  to  do  this  would  require 
a  much  abler  hand  than  mine. 

Camillus,  not  long  ago,  entertained  in  his 
house  a  young  clergyman,  who  was  always 
treated  with  a  respect  suitable  to  the  dignity 
of  his  office  and  the  piety  of  his  behaviour. 
Having  lately  presented  the  worthy  ecclesi- 
astic to  a  living,  and  always  requiring  resi- 
dence on  the  benefice,  he  is  now  destitute 
of  a  chaplain.  Remembering,  however, 
that  all  Christians  are  spiritual  priests,  he 
thinks  it  no  dishonour  to  have  an  immediate 
and  personal  audience  with  the  King  of  hea- 
ven, nor  acting  at  all  out  of  character  to 
represent  the  wants  of  his  household  with 
his  own  mouth  at  the  throne  of  grace. 

Before  supper  is  introduced,  the  evening 
incense  ascends.  This,  rather  than  a  later 
hour,  is  pitched  upon,  that  the  little  congre- 
gation may  join  in  the  sacred  service  with  a 
lively  devotion.  i\fter  a  plentiful  meal, 
when  the  limbs  are  weary,  people,  even 
though  kneeling,  and  in  the  presence  of 
God,  are  more  inclined  to  nod  than  to  pour 
out  their  souls ;  are  very,  very  apt  to  mis- 
take the  cushion  for  a  pillow.  No  servant 
is  allowed  to  be  absent,  one  only  excepted, 
whose  presence  in  the  kitchen  is  absolutely 
necessary.  Acquainted  with  their  master's 
resolution,  they  are  carefid  so  to  manage 
their  affairs,  and  despatch  their  business, 
that  no  avoidable  ol)>tacle  may  intervene  to 
detain  them  from  the  stated  worship. 

When  all  are  assembled,  without  either 
tumultuous  disorder  in  their  approach,  or  a 
slovenly  negligence  in  their  apparel,  a  chap- 
ter is  read.  Camillus  makes  the  choice. 
He  imagines  it  is  not  so  useful  for  his  fa- 
mily, whose  memories  are  weak,  and  their 
capacities  scanty,  to  read  the  lesson  for 
the  day.  He  has,  therefore,  selected  some 
of  the  most  instructive  and  animating  por- 
tions of  ijcripture  ;  and  judges  it  advisable 


ON  TllH  EDUCATH.^N  OF  DAUGHTERS. 


707 


to  iiLiii.ic  these  iitjiiiii  and  aj^Miii,  iiitlier  than 
to  go  regularly  through  the  whole  iiinpired 
V,  litings.  The  servants  take  it  by  tiu'ns  to 
read,  which  improves  them  in  tiie  practice, 
and  keeps  them  awake.  If  any  of  theni 
discover  a  disposition  to  sleep,  to  him  the 
otlice  is  sure  to  be  assigned. 

Wlieii  the  chapter  is  linished,  Camilhis 
singles  out  some  one  verse,  of  very  weighty 
and  edifying  import,  which,  for  the  sjiace 
of  rive  or  six  minutes,  he  explains,  applies, 
and  affectionately  urges  upon  their  con- 
sciences. This  done,  with  great  seriousness 
and  profound  reverence,  he  offers  up  evening 
prayers.  His  prayers  consist  of  short  sen- 
tences, and  the  whole  is  performed  in  a  lit- 
tle time.  Every  part  is  jironounced  with 
that  deliberate  slowness,  and  solemn  acceiit, 
which  command  attention  and  create  awe. 
He  makes  a  very  perceivable  pause  at  the 


has  blessed  iiini  with  two  fine  daughters, 
iheu'  present  and  furure  liapjjiness  is  the 
reigning  object  of  his  care.  He  has  no  in- 
terest so  much  at  heart  as  to  give  them  a 
truly  refined  education; — such  as  may  ren- 
der them  an  ornament  and  a  blessing  to  so- 
ciety, while  they  pass  the  time  of  their  so- 
journing here  below  ;  and  may  train  them 
up  for  a  state  of  everlasting  bliss,  when  the 
world,  and  its  transitory  scenes,  shall  be  no 
more. 

Camillus  never  could  persuade  himself  to 
admire  the  maxims  of  prudent;e  said  to  be 
gathered  from  the  extravagant  rant  of  our 
tragedies  ;  and  less  is  his  esteem  for  those 
modest  dispositions  which  people  pretend 
to  imbibe  from  the  luscious  gallantries  of  co- 
medy. For  which  reason,  he  has  no  impa- 
tient desire  to  secure  for  Miss  Mitissa  and 
iViiss  Serena  a  place  in  the  front-box.   How- 


close  of  each  petition,  that  every  one  may  ever,  as  we  are  apt  immoderately  to  covet 
have  leisure  to  add,  in  silence,  a  hearty  |  what  is  absolutely  forbidden,  he  has  himself 
Amen  ;  and  to  recollect  the  merits  of  that  •■  attended  them  once  or  twice  to  the  theatri- 
blessed  Redeemer,  which  render  every icai  entertaiinnents  and  jjublic  diversions; 
thanksgiving  acceptable,  and  every  suppli-  thinking  it  much  the  safest  method,  that 
cation  successful.  their  curiosity  should  be  gratified  under  his 

111  the  morning,  before  breakfast,  the  own  inspection  ;  and  hoping  to  make  them 
worship  of  the  living  God  is  renewed.  At  I  sensible  how  much  they  endanger  their  vir- 
this  juncture,  Camillus  omits  the  chapter,  I  tue,  who  too  often  frequent  them;  how 
but  requires  one  of  his  domestics  to  repeat !  shamefully  they  debase  their  affections,  who 
the  verse  on  which  he  enlarged  the  preced- ]  are  passionately  fond  of  them;  and  what 
ing  night.  None  knows  which  shall  be  ;  mere  phantoms  they  follow,  who  seek  for 
called  to  this  task;   therefore  every  one  is   satisfaction  in  such  delusory  delights. 


obliged  to  be  ])roperly  prepared.  He  throw 
the  substance  of  his  exhortation  into  a  few 
searching  and  interesting  questions,  which 
he  addresses  to  one  of  his  children  or  ser- 
vants ;  for  in  this  respect  no  difference  is 
made.  All  are  equally  enjoined  to  remem- 
ber, all  are  ecjuallyaccountaiiie  for  what  they 
hear.  Sometimes  he  encourages  those 
whose  answers  show  that  they  have  given 


They  learn  to  dance,  in  order  to  acquire 
a  genteel  air,  and  a  graceful  demeanour  ;  not 
to  shine  at  a  ball,  or  win  the  worthless  arj- 
miration  of  fops.  He  is  content  to  have 
them  uiiiicquainted  with  the  wild  and  ro- 
mantic lables  of  heathen  poetry  ;  nor  is  un- 
der any  painful  apprehensions  of  damping 
the  sprightliiiess  of  tlieir  temper,  though 
thev  have  no  taste  for  the  chimerical  adven- 


diligent  heed  to  his  instructions.  Some-  tures  of  our  romances,  and  are  strangers  to 
times  he  puts  on  an  air  of  severity,  mixed  the  loose  intrigues  of  our  novels,  being  fully 
with  tenderness,  and  reproves  the  notori-  persuaded  that  there  is  as  much  sound  sense 
ously   negligent.     Always    he  reinculcates  |  as  smartness  of  thought  in  that  celebrated 


the  principal  ))oints,  charging  them  to  retain 
the  doctrines  in  their  memory,  and  revolve 
them  in  their  thoughts,  while  tlii'y  are  pur- 
suing their  respective  business.  These 
doctrines  are  the  seed  of  faith,  the  root  of 
godliness.  Unless  lliese  be  lodged  in  the 
mind,  and  operate  on  the  heart,  he  never  ex- 
pects to  have  his  domestics  commence  true 
believers  or  real  (Christians  ;  no  more  than 
the  husbandman  can  icasonably  expect  a 
crop  in  harvest  without  sowing  his  field,  or 
the  florist  promise  himself  a  blow  of  tulips 
without  planting  his  jjurterre. 

1  have  given  a  gliinj)se  of  Camillus  at  the 
head  of  his  family:  let  me  now  show  my 
favourite  in  anotlier  attitude.  Camillus  is 
convinced  tluit  no  trust  is  of  superior  or  of 
tqual  importance  to  the  tuitionary  cultiva- 
tion of  an  iiiimorti;!  soul.     As  Providence 


saying. 

Retire  and  read  your  Rihle,  to  be  gay, 
There  truths  abound  Oi  sovereign  aid  lo  peace ! 

VoU.Ntt. 

He  has  introduced  them  to  the  knowledge 
of  history,  and  its  instructive  facts.  They 
have  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  four  universal 
monarchies,  so  eminent  for  their  great  events, 
and  so  circumstantially  foretold  in  Scripture. 
They  have  been  led  through  the  most  re- 
markable transactions  of  our  own  country, 
and  are  pretty  well  acquainted  \\ith  the  pre- 
sent state  of  Europe.  They  have,  all  along, 
been  taught  to  observe  the  wonderful  revo- 
lutions of  empires,  and  the  adorable  proce- 
dure of  Piovidi'iicfc,  that  they  may  discern 
how  "  the  fashion  of  this  world  j)asseth 
away,"  1  Cor.  vii.  31.  ;  and  how  "  hap;)y 
are  the  people,"  how  hajipy  the  persons. 


708 


ON  THE  EDirnATION 


"  who  have  the  Lord  for  thuir  God."'  They 
have  been  taught  to  observe  tlie  honourable 
success  that  has  usually  attended  the  prac- 
tice of  integrity,  guided  by  Prudence  ;  to- 
gether with  the  scandal  and  ruin  which  have 
always  pursued  Folly  in  her  senseless  ram- 
bles, and  dogged  Vice  to  her  horrid  haunts  ; 
that  they  may  sec  the  rocks  on  which  some 
have  split,  and  avoid  the  destructive  track  ; 
see  the  road  which  has  conducted  others  to 
the  haven  of  happiness,  and  steer  the  same 
auspicious  course. 

They  have  been  initiated  in  geography,  and 
understand  the  several  divisions-of  the  globe, 
the  extent  of  its  prhicipal  kingdoms,  and  the 
inamiers  of  their  various  iidiabitants.  They 
will  tell  you  the  ])eculiar  commodities  which 
each  climate  produces  ;  whence  comes  the  tea 
that  furnishes  their  breakfast,  and  whence 
the  sugar  that  renders  it  palatable  ;  what 
mountains  supply  them  with  wines,  and 
what  islands  send  them  their  spices ;  in 
what  groves  the  silk  woims  spin  the  mate- 
rials for  their  clothes  ;  and  what  mines*  sup- 
ply them  with  the  diamonds  that  sparkle  in 
their  ear-rings.  A  screen,  covered  with  a 
set  of  coloured  maps,  and  a  custom  of  re- 
ferring from  the  ])ublic  papers  to  those  beau- 
tiful draughts,  has  rendered  the  acquisition 
of  this  knowledge  a  diversion  rather  than  a 
task,  has  enticed  them  into  a  valuable  branch 
of  science,  under  the  inviting  disguise  of 
amusement.  This  serves  to  enlarge  their 
apprehensiojis  of  things,  gives  them  magni- 
ficent thoughts  of  the  great  Creator,  and 
may  help  to  suppress  that  silly  self-admira- 
tion which  prompts  so  many  pretty  idols  to 
fancy  themselves  the  only  considerable  crea- 
tures under  heaven. 

They  spell  to  perfection,  and  have  obtain- 
ed this  art  by  a  sort  of  play,  rather  than  by 
laborious  application.  Whenever  they  ask- 
ed any  little  gratification,  it  has  been  their 
papa's  custom  to  make  them  spell  the  word  ; 
which  if  they  performed  aright,  they  seldom 
failed  to  succeed  in  their  request.  They 
are  mistresses  of  the  needle  ;  and  the  young- 
est, whose  genius  inclines  that  way,  is  ex- 
pert in  using  the  pencil.  LIusic  is  their  re- 
creation, not  their  business.  The  eldest,  to 
a  skilful  singer,  adds  a  melodious  and  well- 
regulated  voice.  She  often  entertains  me 
with  singing  an  anthem  on  her  harpsichord. 
Entertains,  did  I  say  ?  she  really  edifies  me. 
These  truly  excellent  performances  exalt 
the  desires,  and  compose  the  affections. 
They  inspire  such  a  serenity  of  delight,  as 
leaves  neither  a  sting  in  the  conscience,  nor 
a  stain  on  the  imagination.  Methinks  they 
bring  us  a  little  antepast  of  heaven,  and 
tune  our  souls  for  its  harmonious  JQy.si-..: 

Thoroughly  versed  in  the  most,  pr^cticid 
parts    of  arithmetic,  they  have  .eslch  their 


*  The  best  of  tlip  dminond  mines'are  in  c!ie  king- 
dom of  Gokonda,  near  to  Madras, 


week  wherein  to  be  intrusted  with  the  man- 
agement of  a  Sinn  of  money.  This  they 
disburse  as  circumstances  require,  for  the 
smaller  necessaries  of  the  family.  Of  this 
they  keep  an  exact  account,  and  make  a 
regular  entry  of  each  particular  in  their  day- 
book. Not  long  ago  a  tenant  of  inferior 
raidv  came  to  Camillus  with  his  rent.  In- 
stead of  receiving  it  himself,  he  referred  him 
to  Aliss  Serena.  You  would  have  been 
delighted  to  observe  the  behaviour  of  our 
little  landlady  on  this  occasion,  the  en- 
gaging condescension  with  which  she  ad- 
dressed the  honest  rustic,  the  tender  good- 
nature with  which  she  inquired  after  my 
dame  and  the  family  at  home,  the  leady 
dexterity  with  which  she  wrote  and  sub- 
scribed a  proper  receipt ;  and,  above  all, 
her  amiable  generosity  in  returning  half-a- 
crovvii,  to  buy  a  copy-book  for  his  eldest 
son,  "who,"  lie  said,  "was  just  going  into 
joining-hand  ;  but,  he  feared,  would  never 
come  to  spell  or  write  half  so  well  as  her 
ladyship." 

Though  Camillus  is  careful  to  ground 
them  betimes  in  the  rules  of  economy,  he 
is  equally  careful  to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  dis- 
creet beneficence.  A  few  days  ago,  when 
my  friend  and  his  lady  were  abroad.  Miss 
Mitissa  was  informed  of  a  poor  woman  in 
the  parish  just  brought  to  bed,  after  a  long 
and  hard  labour ;  w  ho,  being  unhappily 
married  to  a  sot  of  a  fellow,  was,  at  a  time 
when  the  choicest  comforts  are  scarcely 
sufficient,  destitute  of  the  meanest  conve- 
niences. Upon  hearing  the  calamitous  case, 
she  immediately  despatched  a  servant  with 
a  crown  from  her  weekly  stock ;  part  to  buy 
for  the  afflicted  creature  some  present  ac- 
commodations, and  part  to  defray  the  ex- 
penses at  such  a  juncture  unavoidable  ; 
but  gave  a  strict  chaige  that  the  whole 
should  be  employed  for  the  relief  of  the 
distressed  mother  and  her  helpless  infant, 
iioiie  of  it  fingered  or  enjoyed  by  the 
worthless  drone  her  husband.  When  Ca- 
millus returned,  he  was  so  pleased  with 
this  seasonable  and  well-judged  charity, 
that,  besides  his  commendation  and  caresses, 
he  farther  rewarded  our  considerate  matron- 
like benefactress,  by  making  Iter  a  present 
of  Clarissa.*  For  he  always  contrives  to 
make  what  tends  to  their  improvement  the 
matter  of  their  reward.  If  they  have  com- 
mitted a  fault,  they  are  forbid  the  privilege 
of  using  their  maps.  If  they  have  behaved 
in  a  becoming  manner,  their  recompense 
is,  not  a  piece  of  money,  or  a  paper  of 
sweetmeats,  but  some  new  instruction  on 
the  globe,  some  new  lesson  on  the  harpsi- 
chord, which  may  at  once  delight  and  im- 
prove them. 


*  A  baok  admirably  calculated  I'j  instruct  a'ul  en- 
tertain, wrote  by  tlie  celebrated  Mr.  Iticliaidson,  in 
eigiu  volumes. 


OF  DAUGHTERS. 


700 


T'>  prevent  a  haughty  carriage,  and  to 
woiin  out  mU  inordinate  self-love,  he  teaches 
them  to  consider  tlieir  neijdiboiu's  as  mem- 
bers of  the  same  imiversal  family,  and 
children  of  the  same  almighty  Father. 
I  Jowever  poor  in  their  circumstances,  or 
mean  in  their  aspect,  they  are  the  objects 
of  God's  inlinitely  tender  regards  ;  of  that 
God,  who  has  given  his  own  Son  to  suffer 
death  for  their  ])ardon,  and  has  prepared  a 
heaven  of  endless  bliss  for  their  iinal  recep- 
tion. For  which  reason  they  should  de- 
spise none,  but  honour  all ;  should  be  as 
ready  to  do  them  good,  as  the  hand  is  ready 
to  sooth  the  eye  when  it  smarts,  or  ease  the 
l)ead  when  it  aches.  One  afternoon,  when 
he  was  going  to  treat  them  with  afi  orange, 
he  bid  each  of  them  bring  a  fuie  toy,  lately 
received  for  a  present-  It  was  made  in  the 
shape  of  a  knife,  the  handle  of  ivory,  and  in- 
laid with  thegiyestcoloms;  the  blade  of  glass, 
most  dazzlingly  bright,  but  without  an  edge. 
Cut  the  orange  in  two,  said  their  paj)a. 
When  they  both  tried  with  their  pretty  knives, 
and,  to  their  no  small  mortilication,  both 
failed,  he  furnished  them  with  another  of 
more  ordinary  a|)peanuice,but  tolerably  sharp. 
With  this  they  easily  j)ierced  the  rind,  and 
cameat  tlie  deliciousjuice.  "  Who  now,"  said 
Camillus,  "  would  not  ])refer  one  such  ser- 
viceable though  plain  utensil,  to  a  hundred  of 
those  glittering  but  worthless  tritles  ?  And 
you,  my  dear  children,  if  you  have  no  other 
recommendations  than  a  showy  person  and 
the  trappings  of  dress,  you  will  be  as  con- 
temptible in  your  generation  as  that  insig- 
nificant bauble.  Bat  if  it  is  the  desire  of 
your  hearts,  and  the  endeavour  of  your  lives, 
to  be  extensively  useful,  )'ou  will  gain,  and, 
what  is  better,  you  will  deserve,  respect ; 
your  names  will  be  precious,  and  your  me- 
mories blessed." 

With  e(iual  watchfulness  he  discounte- 
nances all  those  acts  of  petulant  barbarity 
whicli  children  are  so  apt  to  exercise  on 
the  reptile  creation.  He  will  allow  no 
court  of  inquisition  to  be  erected  within 
his  house ;  no,  not  upon  the  most  despica- 
ble, or  even  the  noxious  animals.  'J'he 
very  nuisances  that  are  endued  with  life, 
he  thinks  should  be  despatched,  not  with  a 
lingering  butchery,  but  with  a  merciful  ex- 
pedition. To  rend  in  pieces  a  i)oor  fly, 
and  feast  their  eyes  with  the  mangled 
limbs,  shivering  and  convulsed  in  the  pangs 
of  death  ;  to  impale  a  wretched  insect  on 
the  needle  or  the  bodkin  ;  and,  what  is  still 
more  shocking,  to  take  jjleasure  in  hearing 
its  passionate  moan,  and  seeing  its  agonizing 
struggles ;  sucli  jn-actiees  he  absolutely 
forbids,  as  insuilerable  violations  of  nature's 
law,  such  as  tend  to  extinguish  the  soft 
emotions  of  pity,  aiul  imu-e  the  mind  to  a 
babit  of  inhumanity.  He  often  informs  his 
lovely  pui)ils,  that  every  living  creature  is 


sensible  of  pain,  that  none  can  be  abused 
in  this  cruel  manner  without  sutTering  very 
ex(piisite  misery.  To  turn  their  torments 
into  pastime,  and  make  sport  with  their 
anguish,  is  a  rigour  more  than  tyrannical, 
worse  than  brutal  ;  is  the  very  reverse  of 
that  benign  Providence,  whose  "  tender 
mercies  are  over  all  his  works." 

He  proposes  to  give  them  a  taste  of  na- 
tural philosoi)hy,  and  to  accommodate  them 
with  the  best  microscopes  ;  that  the  use  of 
these  instruments,  and  a  spice  ofthat  know- 
ledge, may  inspire  them  with  an  early  ad- 
miration  of  nature's  works,  and  with  the 
deepest  veneration  of  nature's  almighty 
Author.  Camillus  has  no  design  to  tinisli 
a  couple  of  female  philosoi)hers,  or  to  divert 
their  attention  from  those  domestic  arts 
which  are  the  truest  accomplishments  of 
the  sex  ;*  yet  neither  would  he  have  his 
daughters  debarred  from  that  rational  and 
exalted  delight,  which  is  to  be  found  in 
contemplating  the  curiosities  of  the  great 
Creator's  cabinet.  Why  may  they  not, 
without  departing  from  their  own,  or  en- 
croaching on  the  masculine  character,  whv 
nuiy  they  not  be  acquainted  with  the  accu- 
rately nice  structure  of  an  animal,  or  with 
the  process  and  effects  of  vegetation  ?  Why 
may  they  not  learn  the  admirable  operations 
of  the  air,  or  the  wonderful  pro|)erties  of 
the  water  ?  have  some  general  notion  of  the 
iunneiise  magnitudes,  the  prodigious  dis- 
tances, and  the  still  more  amazing  revolu- 
tio'.is  of  the  heavenly  orbs  ?  He  apprehends 
it  very  practicable  to  conduct  an  entertain- 
ment v.-ith  dignity,  and  order  a  family  with 
pi-opriety,  even  while  they  retain  some 
tolerable  idea  of  those  magnificent  laws 
which  regulata  the  system  of  the  universe.  - 

The  microscope,  whenever  they  are  in- 
clined to  amuse  themselves,  will  show  them 
a  profusion  of  splendid  ornaments  in  some  of 
the  most  common  and  contemptible  objects. 
It  will  show  them  gold  and  embroidery, 
diamonds  and  pearl,  azure,  green,  and  Ver- 
million, where  unassisted  eyes  behold  nothing 
but  provocatives  of  their  abhorrence.  This 
insti-ument  will  show  them  the  brightest 
varnish,  and  the  most  curious  carving,  even 
in  the  minutest  scraps  of  existence.  Far 
more  surprising  than  the  magic  feats  of  the 
most  dexterous  juggler,  it  will  treat  their 
sight,  not  with  delusive,  but  with  leai 
wonders.  A  huge  elephant  shall  stalk 
where  a  puny  mite  was  wont  to  crawl, 
lilood  shall  b(jund  from  the  beating  heart, 
and  eyes  sparkle  with  a  lively  lustre — limbs 
shall  play  the  most  sprightly  motions,  or 
stand  composed  in  the  most  graceful  attitudes 
— where  nothing  ordinarily  appeared,  but  a 
confused   speck   of  animated   matter.     A 


For  iiolhirif!  lovelier  cm  be  found 

in  waiiini),  than  to  study  houstlioU^ood.—.V/7fu> 


710 


ON  THE  EDUCATION 


tincture  of  philosophy  will  be  the  cosmetic 
of  nature,  will  roiider  all  her  scimics  lovely, 
and  all  her  r;j);irtments  a  theatre  of  diversion ; 
diversions  infinitely  superior  to  those  dan- 
gerous delights  which  are  so  apt  to  inveigle 
the  affections,  ai-.d  debauch  the  minds  of 
young  people.  "When  philosophy  lends  her 
optics,  an  unclouded  morning,  beautiful  with 
the  rising  sun — ;i  clear  night,  brilliant  with 
innumerable  stars,  will  be  a  more  pleasing 
spectacle  than  the  gaudiest  illuminations  of 
the  assembly-room.  The  melody  of  birds, 
and  the  murmur  of  fountains,  the  humming 
insect,  and  the  sighing  gale,  will  !)e  a  higher 
gratification  than  the  finest  airs  of  an  opera. 
A  field  covered  with  corn,  or  a  meadow 
besprinkled  with  daisies,  a  marsh  ])lanted 
•with  osiers,  or  a  mountain  shaded  with  oalcs, 
will  yield  a  far  more  agreeable  prospect  than 
the  most  pompous  scenes  that  decorate  the 
stage.  Should  clouds  overcast  the  heavens, 
or  winter  disrobe  the  flowers,  an  inquiry 
into  the  causes  of  these  grand  vicissitudes 
will  more  than  compensate  the  transitory 
loss.  A  discovery  of  the  divine  wisdom 
and  divine  goodness,  in  these  seemingly 
disastrous  changes,  will  impart  gaiety  to  the 
most  gloomy  sky,  and  m.ake  the  most  unor- 
namented  seasons  smile. 

It  is  for  want  of  such  truly  elegant  and 
satisfactory  amusements,  that  so  many  ladies 
of  the  first  distinction  and  finest  genius  have 
no  proper  employ  for  their  delicate  capaci- 
ties, but  lose  their  happiness  in  flights  of 
caprice  or  fits  of  the  vapour  ;  lose  their 
time  in  the  most  insipid  chat,  or  the  most 
whiinsical  vagaries  ;  while  thought  is  a 
burden,  and  reflection  isa  diudgery,  solitude 
fills  them  with  horror,  and  a  serious  dis- 
course makes  them  melancholy. 

Above  all,  Camillus  is  most  earnestly 
desirous  to  have  his  tender  charge  grounded 
in  the  principles,  and  actuated  with  the 
spirit  of  Christianity.  No  scheme,  he  is 
thoroughly  persuaded,  was  ever  so  wisely 
calculated  to  sweeten  their  tempers,  to  exalt 
their  affections,  and  form  them  to  felicity 
either  in  this  world  or  another.  It  is  there- 
fore his  daily  endeavour,  by  the  most  easy 
and  endearing  methods  of  instruction,  to  fill 
their  minds  with  the  knowledge  of  those 
heavenly  doctrines,  and  win  their  hearts  to 
the  love  of  that  invaluable  book  in  which 
they  are  delineated.  He  longs  to  have  a 
sense  of  God  Almighty's  goodness  impress- 
ed on  their  souls.  From  this  source,  un- 
der the  influences  of  the  sanctifying  Spirit, 
he  would  derive  all  the  graces  and  all  the 
duties  of  godliness.  With  thisviewhe  speaks 
of  the  divine  Majesty  not  only  as  super- 
eminently great,  but  as  most  transcendently 
possessed  of  every  delightful,  every  charm- 
ing excellence.  He  represents  all  the  com- 
forts they  enjoy,  and  every  blessing  they 
receive,  as  the  gifts  of  his  bountiful  hand. 


and  as  an  earnest  of  unspeakably  rlrlicr 
favours.  He  often,  often  reminds  them, 
that  whatever  their  heavenly  Fatiier  com. 
mands,  forbids,  inilicts,  proceeds  from  his 
overflowing  kindness.  ai)d  is  intended  for 
their  eternal  good,  if,  )>y  the<e  exjiedients, 
he  may  awaken  in  their  minds  sin  haijitual 
gratitude  to  their  everL^ting  Benefactor. 
The  actings  of  ^hich  noble  principle  are 
not  only  fruitful  in  every  good  work,  but 
productive  of  the  truest  satisfaction  ;  some- 
what like  the  fragrant  steams  of  consecrated 
incense,  which,  while  they  honoured  the 
great  object  of  worship,  regaled  with  their 
pleasing  perfumes  the  devout  worshipper. 

Nothing  is  more  disjileasing  to  Camillus 
than  the  fond  flatteries  which  their  iiijudi-- 
cious  admirers  bestow  on  their  shape  and 
their  complexion,  the  gracefulness  of  their 
carriage,  and  the  vivacity  of  their  wit.  He 
would  fain  make  them  sensible,  that  these 
embellishments  are  of  the  lowest  value  and 
most  fading  nature ;  that,  if  they  render 
their  possessors  vain  and  self-conceited, 
they  are  far  greater  blemishes  than  a  humph 
on  the  back,  a  wen  on  the  neck,  or  stutter- 
ing in  the  speech.  He  would  have  them 
thoroughly  convinced,  that  notwithstanding 
all  their  silks,  diamonds,  and  other  marks 
of  their  sujierior  circumstances,  they  are 
ignorant,  guilty,  impotent  creatures  ;  blind 
to  truths  of  the  last  importance,  deserving 
the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire,  and  unable  of 
themselves  to  think  a  good  thought ;  that 
from  such  convictions  they  may  perceive 
their  absolute  need  of  a  Saviour,  a  Saviour 
in  all  his  offices ;  as  a  Prophet  to  teach 
them  heavenly  wisdom  ;  as  a  Priest  to  atone 
for  all  their  many,  many  sins;  as  a  King  to 
subdue  their  iniquities,  write  his  laws  in 
their  hearts,  and  make  them,  in  all  their 
conversation,  holy. 

In  short,  the  point  he  chiefly  laliours  is, 
to  work  in  their  hearts  a  deep,  an  abiding 
sense,  that  God  is  their  supreme,  their  only 
good  ;  that  the  blessed  Jesus  is  the  rock  o(' 
their  hopes,  and  the  fountain  of  their  salva- 
tion ;  that  all  their  dependence  for  acquir- 
ing the  beauties  of  holiness,  and  tasting  the 
joys  of  the  sublimest  virtue,  is  to  be  placed 
on  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Comforter. 
Amidst  all  these  efforts  of  his  own,  he  ne- 
ver forgets,  never  fails  to  plead  that  precious 
promise  of  the  unchangeable  Jehovah,  "  I 
wilLpour  out  my  Spirit  upon  thy  seed,  and 
my  blessing  upon  thy  offspring  ;  and  they 
shall  grow  up,"  in  knowledge  and  in  grace, 
"  as  willows  by  the  water-courses."  Isaiah 
xliv.  3,  4". 

A  lady  of  brilliant  parts,  but  no  very 
extraordinary  piety,  told  Camillus,  that  he 
would  spoil  the  pretty  dears,  would  extin- 
guish that  decent  pride,  and  fondness  for 
pleasure,  which  are  shining  qualifications  in 
an  accomplished  young  la(ly,  which  give  her 


OF  DAUGHTERS. 


711 


an  elevation  of  sentiment,  and  a  delicacy  of  moth  can  corrupt,  nor  thief  steal — which 
taste  fcreatly  supevior  to  the  ignoble  vulgar,  j  neither  time  nor  death  destroy." 
I'o  whom  he  re])lied,  "  tar  from  extirpating  I  h\  all  these  instances  of  ])areiital  solici- 
tlieir  passions,  1  only  attempt  to  turn  them  tude,  his  beloved  Amelia  takes  her  constant, 
into  a  right  channel,  and  direct  them  to  the  her  willing  share  ;  contributes  her  advice  in 
worthiest  objects.      Willing  I  am  that  they  [  every  plan  that  is  concerted,  and  her  hearty 


should  have  a  decent  ambition,  an  ambition 
not  to  catch  the  giddy  coxcomb's  eye,  or  be 
the  hackneyed  toast  of  rakes,  but  to  j)lease 
their  parents,  to  make  a  husband  happy,  and 
to  promote  the  glory  of  God.  They  may 
entertain  a  fondness  for  pleasure,  but  such 
j)leasure  as  will  ennoble  their  souls,  afford 
them  substantial  satisfaction,  and  prepare 
them  for  the  fruition  of  immortal  bliss. 
Let  them  be  covetous  also,  if  you  please, 
madam,  but  covetous  of  redeeming  their 
time,  and  of  gaining  intellectual  improve- 
ment ;  covetous  of  those  riches  which  no 


concurrence  in  every  expedient  that  is  exe- 
cuted ;  every  ex])edient  for  polishing  the 
human  jewel,*  and  making  their  maimers  as 
faultless  as  their  forms.  May  the  God  of 
infinite  goodness,  the  sacred  source  of  all 
])erfection,  prosper  their  endeavours  !  that, 
as  the  young  ladies  are  adorned  in  their 
persons  with  native  beauty,  they  may  be 
enriched  in  their  understandings  with  refined 
knowledge,  and  dignified  in  their  souls  with 
the  spirit  of  the  blessed  Jesus.  Then, 
surely,  more  amiable  objects  the  eye  of  man 
cannot  behold  ;  more  desirable  partners  the 
heiu-t  of  man  cannot  wish. 


PREFACE 


BURNHAM'S  PIOUS  MEMORIALS. 


Rki.igion,  or  an  affectionate  and  firm 
connexion  of  the  soul  with  God,  is  the  high- 
est ini])rovement  ot  the  human  mind,  and 
the  brightest  ornament  of  the  rational  nature. 
Jt  is  the  most  indissoluble  bond  of  civil 
society,  and  the  only  foundation  of  happiness 
to  every  individual  person. 

The  gosjjel,  by  which  we  have  access  to 
the  King  immortal,  invisible,  through  the 
merits  of  Jesus  Christ ;  by  which  we  are 
conformed  to  his  amiable  and  holy  image, 
through  the  operations  of  the  blessed  Sj)irit 
— the  gospel  is,  of  all  other  religions,  most 
exquisitely  adapted  to  compass  those  desir- 
able ends. 

This  point  hath  often  been  demonstrated 
with  all  the  strength  of  argument,  and 
illustrated  by  every  decoration  of  eloquence. 
In  the  following  sheets  we  are  presented 
with  a  new  proof  of  the  same  important 
truth,  deduced  from  a  tof)ic  level  to  every 
capacity,  and  from  a  scene  in  which  all 
must,  sooner  or  later,  be  personally  concern- 
ed. ^ 

Nothing  strikes  the  mind  of  a  wise  and 
attentive  observer  so  forcibly  as  fact ;  no- 
thing hath  so  strong  a  tendency  to  convince 
the  judgment,  and  inlluence  the  conduct. 
In  the  collection  before  us  we  have  a  series 
of  indubitable  and  interesting  facts.  Here 
are  some  of  the  most  renowned,  many  of 
the  most  worthy  persons,  after  a  life  of 
exemplary   devotion    and     exalted    virtue, 


bearing  their  dying  testimony  to  the  excel- 
lency of  the  gospel  and  the  pleasures  of 
religion — persons  from  different  countries, 
of  different  denominations,  and  flourishing 
in  distant  periods  of  time — persons  in  the 
most  awful  moments  of  their  existence, 
when  hypociisy  drops  the  mask,  when 
worldly  motives  lose  their  weight,  and  there 
remains  no  more  temptation  to  deceive — all 
these,  uniting  in  the  same  sentiments,  all 
reposing  their  confidence  on  the  same  great 
]\Iediator,  all  proclaiming  the  dignity,  effi- 
cacy, and  glory  of  the  evangelical  system, 
in  a  manner  superior  to  language  ;  pro- 
claiming it  by  a  peace  of  conscience  which 
the  whole  world  cannot  give,  and  a  joy  of 
heart  which  transcends  all  description. 

Such  a  collection  of  memoirs  is,  I  think, 
a  A-aluable  addition  to  the  evidences  for 
Christianity,  a  considerable  aid  to  the  inte- 
rests of  piety,  and  worthy  both  of  frequent 
perusal  and  universal  accei)tance. 

A  work  of  this  nature  hath  often  appear- 
ed to  me  among  the  desiderata  of  the  closet. 
I  have  sometimes  wondered  that  no  ingeni- 
ous pen  hath  attempted  it ;  and  always 
thought  that,  when  duly  executed,  it  woidd 
bid  fair  for  extensive  usefulness.  But  I  am 
glad  to  find  myself  anticipated  in  this  opi- 


•  Delightful  task  !  to  rear  the  tender  thought. 

To  teach  the  young  idea  how  to  shoot, 

And  pour  the'fresh  instruction  o'er  the  mind. 

Thomson 


712 


PREFACE  TO 


iiioii  by  a  writer,*  whose  words  I  shall  beg 
leave  to  tratisoribe,  and  whose  judgment  can- 
not be  questioned  :  "  There  is  nothing  in 
history  which  is  so  improving  to  the  reader, 
as  those  accounts  which  we  meet  with  of 
the  deaths  of  eminent  persons,  and  of  their 
behaviour  in  that  dreadful  season,"  Spect. 
No.  289.  Here  is  a  large  field,  in  which 
the  reader  may  not  barely  glean  a  few  ears, 
but  gather  his  sheaves,  or  reap  a  harvest  of 
that  sacred  improvement  which  our  admired 
critic  mentions.  Here  is  a  multitude  of 
those  most  distinguished  and  animating  j)arts 
of  history,  traced  through  various  ages  of 
the  church  ;  from  the  heroic  martyrdom  of 
venerable  Ignatius,  to  the  peaceful  exit  of 
the  pious  and  ingenious  iJr.    Watts. 

These  histories  are  not  only  unquestion- 
ably true,  but  of  the  most  unexceptionable 
kind.  They  are  delivered  in  the  very  words 
of  the  author  from  whose  writings  they  iU'e 
extracted ;  so  that  we  may  depend  upon  a 
strict  exactness  in  point  of  authenticity,  and 
shall  be  entertained  with  an  agreeable  diver- 
sity in  reference  to  style.  None  of  these 
accounts  personate  the  romantic  insensibi- 
lity of  the  stoic,  or  the  brutal  hardiness  of 
the  sceptic  :  None  of  them  exhibit  the  in- 
decent levity  of  a  Petronius,  or  the  pitiable 
fluctuation  of  a  Socrates  :  But  all  display 
true  fortitude,  rational  tranquillity,  and  well- 
grounded  ho])e  ;  built  upon  the  divine  pro- 
mises, supported  by  the  divine  Spirit,  ren- 
dered steadfast  and  immoveable  by  a  divine 
propitiation  and  righteousness. 

Plere  the  minister  of  the  gospel  may 
furnish  himself  with  noble  materials  to  en- 
rich and  enliven  his  compositions  for  the 
pulpit.  And  I  dare  venture  to  foretell, 
that  no  i)art  of  his  public  addresses  will  be 
heard  with  a  closer  attention,  or  collected 
with  a  sweeter  relish,  than  his  pertinent  ap- 
plication of  the  last  sayings  of  truly  religi- 
ous men. 

Here  the  strong  Christian  may  view,  not 
without  a  glow  of  gratitude,  perhaps  with  a 
rapture  of  delight,  the  inviolable  faithfulness 
of  his  divine  Master,  who  never  leaves  noi' 
forsakes  his  servants  ;  no,  not  at  that  try- 
ing season  which  may  most  emphatically  be 
styled  the  lime  of  need.  Pie  may  view  the 
never- failing  tenderness  and  grace  of  that 
good  Spirit,  who  opens  the  rich  promises 
of  Scripture,  applies  the  precious  atonement 
of  a  Savioiu',  and  makes  the  soldier  of  Jesus 
alwHys  to  triimiph. 

Here  the  feeble  trembling  believer  may 
see  im])erfect  creatures,  men  of  like  passions 
and  of  like  infirmities  with  himself,  looking 
death  in  the  face  with  intrepidity.  He  may 
hear  them  addressing  that  ghastly  monarch 
in  the  triumphant  lunguHge  of  the  apostle, 

*  ilr.  AtUlison. 


"  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting !"  To  hear 
and  see  this,  will  be  a  more  effectual  ex- 
pedient to  establish  his  heart,  more  sove- 
reign to  deliver  him  from  the  bondage  of 
fear,  than  the  most  spirited  exhortations,  or 
the  most  sage  directions. 

Should  the  unbeliever  be  so  impartial  as  to 
mark  these  disciples  of  Jesus,  and  consider 
the  end  of  their  conversation,  he  mu>t  surely 
acknowledge  both  the  divine  origin  and  une- 
qualled energy  of  the  gloriousgospei ;  since  it 
administers  such  strong  consolation  amidst 
the  pains  of  a  mortal  distemper,  and  the 
ruins  of  dissolving  nature.  Vain,  inex- 
pressibly vain  and  insignificant,  must  eveiy 
other  scheme  of  salvation  appear,  which  is 
destitute  of  an  all-sufKcient  Redeemer,  and 
void  of  an  almighty  Comforter. 

Should  the  libertine,  in  a  serious  inter- 
val, approach  these  death-beds  of  the  just, 
he  may  behold  the  gemiine  fruits  of 
faith  unfeigned,  and  the  blessed  consequen- 
ces of  vital  holiness.  And  where  can  he 
behold 

A  scene,  so  strong  to  strike,  so  sweet  to  chann. 
So  great  to  raise-,  so  heavenly  to  inspire, 
Sosolid  to  support  iair  Virtue's  throne  ? — Yuung, 

Or  how  can  he  behold  all  this  without  feel- 
ing some  pangs  of  salutary  regret ;  without 
entering  into  himself,  and  forming  some 
useful  reflections  ?  "  Will  my  vicious  grati- 
fications create  such  sweet  composure,  such 
humble  joy,  such  heavenly  ho])e,  at  the  last 
awful  hour  ?  Alas  !  will  they  not  rather 
shar])en  the  fatal  arrow,  add  poison  to  the 
point,  and  anguish,  inconceivable  anguish  to 
the  wound  ?" 

There  may  be,  and  there  doubtless  is,  a 
variety  of  trt-atises,  written  upon  a  variety 
of  subjects,  in  which  many  people  are  no 
way  interested.  But  the  subject  of  this 
book  ai^pertains  to  all.  It  is  appointed, 
and  by  an  irrevocable  decree,  that  all  must 
die.  There  is  no  discharge  in  this  warfare, 
no,  not  for  tl'.e  votaries  of  gaiety  and  indo- 
lence. This  consideration,  rnethniks,  should 
incline  even  the  gay  and  indolent  to  observe 
what  is  transacted  in  the  antichamber  to 
those  apartments  where  they  themselves 
must  shortly  lodge.  And  woidd  they  from 
the  ensuing  narratives  make  their  observa- 
tions, they  might  bt;  led  to  entertain  more 
favourable  apprehensions  of  oiu'  holy  reli- 
gion. They  will  find,  that  far  from  imbit- 
tering  life,  it  sweetens  death.  Instead  of 
damjjing  the  enjoyments  of  health,  it  sof- 
tens the  bed  of  sickness,  and  soothes  even 
the  agonies  of  dissolution.  Why  then 
should  they  be  afraid  of  piu'e  ;nid  undefiled 
religion  ;  why  stand  aloof,  why  withdraw 
themselves  from  its  Iwnign  invitations  ? 
Can  that  throw  a  gloom  upon  llie  delecta- 
ble hills,  which  is  able  to  gild  and  gladden 
the  valley  of  darkness  ? 

Some,    perhaps,   may   be   i)rompted    by 


BURNHAMS  PIOUS  MEMORIALS. 


713 


curiosity  to  cast  an  eye  ii])oii  tliis  solemn 
and  august  spectacle — a  nniltitude  of  ra- 
tional beings,  arrived  on  tlie  very  l)or<lers 
of  the  invisible  state,  bidding  a  final  adieu 
to  time,  and  just  launcliing  out  into  the 
abysses  of  eternity.  And  blessed  be  the 
Divine  goodness,  the  s|)ectacle  is  as  de- 
lightful as  it  is  august.  Their  God,  theii' 
God  sustains  them  in  the  greatest  extremi- 
ty. They  overcome  the  last  enemy  through 
tlie  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Their  discourses 
savour  of  heaven  ;  their  ho])es  iu'e  full  of 
immortality.  And  is  not  this  a  privilege 
devoutly  to  be  wished  ?*  Who  that  has 
the  least  seriousness,  or  feels  any  concern 
for  his  true  happiness,  can  forbear  crying 
<nit,  on  such  an  occasion,  "  Let  me  die  the 
death  of  the  righteous?"  Numb,  xxiii.  10. 
Life,  take  thy  chance :  Hut  oil '  I'or  such  an  end  ! 

YullHi,'. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  would  persuade  my- 
self, tliat  "  The  Pious  Memorials"  may  be 
a  word  in  season,  a  welcome  and  well 
adapted  address,  to  readers  of  every  charac- 
ter ;  may  be  a  means,  in  the  hand  of  Pro- 
vidence, to  awaken  the  thouglitless,  and  fix 
their  attention  upon  important  and  ever- 
lasting things  ;    may  tend    to   reclaim   the 


dissolute  from  ruinous  practices,  and  engage 
them  in  the  pursuit  of  those  substantial 
acquisitions,  which  "  will  bring  them  peace 
at  the  last ;"  may  aiumate  the  Christian  to 
fresh  zeal  and  renewed  activity  in  the  ser- 
vice of  oiu'  adorable  Immamiel :  That  each, 
while  he  is  running  his  race,  may  be  inspi- 
rited to  say,  with  the  holy  ajiostle,  "  To  me 
to  live  is  Christ ;"  and  each,  when  he  hath 
finished  his  course,  may  be  emboldened  to 
add,  "  To  me  to  die  is  gain." 

With  this  aim  the  narratives  were  collect- 
ed ;  with  this  aim  they  are  i)ublished.  May 
the  Lord  of  all  power  and  miglitmake  them 
effectual  to  accomplish  what  is  so  laudably 
designed !  Then  it  will  not  be  deemed  a 
piece  of  ofBcioiis  impertinence  or  presum- 
ing boldness  for  me  to  reconnneiid  them  : 
it  will  rather  be  looked  upon  as  an  act  of 
friendship  to  the  deceased  author  and  his 
distressed  widow;  as  an  effort  of  true,  of 
Christian  benevolence  to  my  feilow-crea- 
tures  ;  and  a  proper  expression  of  my  gra- 
titude to  the  public  for  thr.t  remarkable 
candour  and  indulgence  shewn  to  their 
obliged,  and  very  humble  servant, 

James  Heuvey. 

Weston-Favell,  July  18,  1/53. 


A  LETTER  TO  MR.  JOHN  TRAILL, 

Late  Biioksdlcr  in  EiiiilAtrgh,  ni>w  Minister  nfa  Gmgrei^atimt  of  Pi-otustaiU  Dissenteri 
at  Chelsea,  near  Loiidun. 


Sm — I  RECEIVED  your  very  valuable,  and 
no  less  acceptable  presentf-  some  weeks  ago. 
I  should  have  acknowledged  the  favour 
sooner,  but  I  chose  to  stay  till  I  had  tasted 
the  dish  you  set  before  me  ;  and  indeed  I 
find  it  to  be  savoury  meat,  the  true  manna, 
food  for  the  soul. 

Your  worthy  relative^  was  a  workman 
that  need  not  be  ashamed.  He  knew  how 
clearly  to  state,  and  solidly  to  establish  the 
faith  of  God's  elect,  and  the  doctrine  ac- 
cording to  godliness.  Oh  that  my  heart, 
and  the  heart  of  every  reader,  miiy  be  open- 
ed by  the  eternal  Spirit  to  receive  the  pre- 
cious truths  ! 

The  letter  at  the  end  of  the  first  volume§ 


»  Even  a  Pa!;an  writer  could  not  but  discern  the 
excellency  of  such  a  l)lessin(;,  and  made  it  one  of  the 
l)rinci))al  ingr-dienu  which  constitute  happiness. 
Felix,  qui  potuit  rcrum  cogiioscere  causas, 
Atipie  nietus  oiniies  ct  incxorahile  faliim 
Subjccit  pcdibu.s,  strcpituiiKjue  Acherontis  avari. 
I'irf,'.  Gcor^.  Ilib.  ii. 
t  Mr.    Traill  had  sent  Mr.  Ilerveya  copy  of  liis 
new  edition  of  the  first  two  volumes  of  the  works  of 
the  licv.  Mr.  Robert  Traill,  lateministei  in  London  : 
the  third  vo!ume  was  not  republished  till  after  Mr. 
Ilervcv's  death. 
t  Mr.  Iloljcrt  Traill  was  luicic  to  Mr.  John  Traill. 
§  This  letter  is  entitled,   "A  Vimlication  of  the 
rrotestant   Doctrine  concerning'  Justification,    and 


is  a  judicious  performance.  It  rightly  di- 
\'ides  the  word  of  truth,  and  lays  the  line 
with  a  masterly  hand,  between  the  presump- 
tuous legalist  and  the  licentiotis  Antino- 
mian.  I  am  particularly  pleased  with  the 
honourable  testimony  borne  to  those  two 
excellent  books.  Dr.  Owen's  Treatise  on 
.lustilication,  and  Mr.  JMarshiiU's  Gosj)el 
xMystery  of  Sanctification  ;*  books  fit  to  be 
recommended  by  so  good  a  judge. 


of   its  Preachers  and  Professors,   from  the  unjust 
charge  of  Antinomianism." 

♦  "I  think,"  sp.ys  Mr  Traill,  "  ihat  Dr.  Owen's 
excellent  book  of  Justiiicition,  and  Mr.  Marshall's 
book  of  the  Mystery  of  Sanctification  by  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ,  are  such  vindications  and  confirmations  of 
the  Protestant  doctrine,  ai^ainst  which  I  fear  no  ef- 
fectual opiiosition.  Mr.  Marshall  was  a  holy  and  re- 
tired person,  and  is  only  known  to  t)ie  most  of  us  by 
his  book  lately  published.  The  book  isa  decii,  prac- 
tical, well  joined  discourse,  and  rciiuires  a  more  tliaii 
ordiiury  attention  in  reading  of  it  with  profit.  .\nd 
if  it  be  singly  used,  I  look  uptm  it  as  one  of  the  most 
useful  books  the  world  bath  seen  for  many  years. 
Us  excellence  is,  that  it  leads  the  serious  reader  di- 
rectly to  Jc-susClirisl,  and  cuts  the  sinews,  and  over- 
turns the  foundation  of  llij  new  divinity,  by  t lie  same 
argument  of  gosp-.d  liolim-ss  by  whirh  inany  attempt 
to  overturn  the  olil.  And  as  it  h.ith  aire  ulv  h.ad  the 
seal  of  high  appnibuion  by  many  judicioe.s'ministers 
and  Chiisti.ins  Uiat  have  read  it,  so  I  fear  not  but  it 
will  stand  liriu  as  a  rock  against  ;;ll  oppositi  iii,  .ind 
wdl  prove  good  seed,  and  tbod,  and  light  to  many 
litreaftcr.'' 


714 


TRAILL  RECOMMENDED. 


If  tlie  Lord  pleases  to  give  Theroti  and 
Aspasio  any  acceptance  in  Scotland,  I 
shall  be  sincerely  glad  ;  but  if  lie  vouchsafes 
to  make  them  not  only  welcome,  but  useful 
visitants,  I  shall  exceedingly  rejoice.  In 
case  you  should  think  them  calculated  to 
promote  the  honour,  and  further  the  gospel 


of  Jesus  Christ,  I  hope  you  will  favour 
them  with  your  recommendation,  and  ac- 
company them  with  yoiu-  prayers  ;  which 
will  be  a  fresh  instance  of  kindness  to,  Sir, 
your  obliged  friend,  and  obedient  servant. 
James  Heuvey. 
Weston- Fa  veil,  July  0,  l/^^'i. 


PROMISES 


TO  BE  PASTED  AT  THE  BEGINNING  OF  A  BIBLE. 

"  God  hath  given  us  exceeding  great  and 
precious  promises,  that  by  these  we 
might  be  partakers  of  the  divine  nature." 
2  Pet.  i.  4. 

DIVINE    TEACHING. 

Isa.  xxix.  18.    The  eyes  of  the  blind  shall 

see  out  of  obscurity. 
Jer.  xxxi.  iH.    They   shall   all    know   me, 

from  the  least  of  them  unto  the  greatest 

of  them. 
John  xiv.  26.    The  Holy  Ghost  shall  teach 

you  all  things. 
Isa.  Iviii.  11.   The  Lord  shall  guide  thee 

continually. 

PARDON. 

Isa.  xliii.  2.5.   I  am  he  that  blotteth  out  thy 

transgressions. 
Isa.  i.  18.    Sins  as  scarlet,  shall  be  as  white 

as  snow. 
1  Pet.  ii.  24.    Who  his  own  self  bare  our 

sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree. 

1  John  i.  7.  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  from  all  sin. 

JUSTIFICATION. 

Rom.  viii.  .33,  34.  It  is  God  that  justifieth. 

Rom.  iii.  21 — 24.  Justified  freely  by  his 
grace. 

Isa.  xlv.  24,  25.  In  the  Lord  have  I  righ- 
teousness. 

2  Cor.  V.  21.  We  are  made  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  in  him. 

SANCTIFICATION. 

Ezek.  xi.  19,  20.   I  will  put  a  new  spirit 

within  you. 
Tit.  ii.  14.  Christ  gave  himself  for  us,  that 

he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity. 
Heb.  viii.  10 — 12.   I  will  put  my  laws  into 

their    mind,    and    write  them    in   their 

hearts. 
1  Thess.  V.  23.  The  God  of  peace  sanctify 

your  whole  spirit,  and  soul,  and  body. 


TO  BE  PASTED  AT  THE  END  OF  A  BIBLE. 
TEMPOKAL  BLESSINGS. 

I  Tim.  iv.  8.    Godliness  hath  the  promise 

of  the  life  that  now  is. 
Psalm  x.\xvii.  3.    Verily  thou  shalt  be  fed. 
Matth.  vi.  33.    Seek  first  the  kingdom  of 

God,  and  all  things  shall  be  added- 
1  Tim.  vi.  17.    Who  giveth   us  all   things 

richly  to  enjoy. 

TEJIPTATION. 

1  Cor.  X.  13.  God  will  not  suffer  you  to 
be  tempted  above  that  ye  are  able. 

2  Cor.  xii.  9.  My  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee. 

Rom.  vi.  14.    Sin  shali  not  have  dominion 

over  you. 
Luke  xxii.  •32.  I  have  prayed  for  thee,  that 

thy  faith  fail  not. 

AFFLICTION. 

Job  V.   17.   Happy  is  the  man  whom  God 

correcteth. 
Lam.  iii.  32.   Though  he  cause  grief,  yet 

will  he  have  compassion. 
Psalm  1.  15.    Call   upon  me  in  trouble  ;  I 

will  deliver  thee. 
Rev.  iii.  19.   As  many  as  I  love,  I  rebuke 

and  chasten. 

DEATH. 

1  Cor,  XV.  55 — 57.  God  giveth  us  the  vic- 
tory through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

2  Cor.  V.  1.  If  our  earthly  house  is  dis- 
solved, we  have  a  building  of  God. 

John  iii.  16.     Whosoever  believeth  shall 

have  everlasting  life. 
Psalm  xxiii.  4.     Though    I   pass   through 

death,  I  will  fear  no  evil. 

CONCLUSION. 

"  God,  willing  more  abundantly  to  .show 
unto  the  heirs  of  pronuse  the  immutability 
of  his  counsel,  confirmed  it  by  an  oath." 
Heb.  vi.  17. 


A  LETTER  TO  RICHARD  NASH,  Esq. 

Laic  Mauler  of  the  Cercnwnim  at  Bath.  * 
ls.1.  Iv.  6.—"  .Seek  the  Lord  wliilc  he  may  be  found,  call  upon  him  while  lie  is  near.' 


Sir, — This  comes  from  your  sincere 
friend,  and  one  (!i;it  lias  your  best  interest 
deeply  at  heart ;  it  comes  on  a  desipi  alto- 
gether imjjortant.  and  of  no  less  consequence 
than  your  everlasting  happiness,  so  that  it 
may  justly  challenge  your  cr.reful  regard.  It 
is  not  to  upbraid  or  reproach,  much  less  to 
triumph  and  insult  over  your  iniscond\ict ; 
no,  it  is  jiure  benevolence,  it  is  disinterest- 
ed good-will  prompts  me  to  write  ;  so  that 
I  hope  I  will  not  raise  your  resentment. 
However,  be  the  issue  wliut  it  will,  I  can- 
not bear  to  see  you  wall:  in  the  paths  that 
lead  to  death,  without  warning  you  of  your 
danger,  without  sounding  in  your  ears  the 
awful  admonition,  "Return  and  live;  for 
M'hy  will  you  die  ?"  I  beg  of  you  to  consider 
whether  you  do  not,  in  some  measure,  re- 
semble those  accursed  children  of  Eli  ; 
whom,  though  they  were  famous  in  their 
generation,  aTid  men  of  reriown,  yet  ven- 
geance suffered  not  to  live.  For  my  part,  I 
may  s;ifely  use  the  expostulation  of  the  old 
priest;  "  why  do  you  such  things?  Fori 
hear  of  your  evil  dealings  by  all  this  people  : 
jsiiy,  my  brother,  for  it  is  no  good  report  I 
hear, — you  make  the  lord's  pen|))(>  to  trans- 
gress." I  have  long  ol>served  and  pitied 
you  ;  and  a  most  melancholy  s|)cctacle  I 
lately  beheld,  made  me  resolve  to  caution 
you,  lest  you  also  come  into  the  same  con- 
demnation. 

I  was,  not  long  since,  called  to  visit  a 
poor  gentleman,  erewliileof  the  most  robust 
body  and  gayest  temjier  I  ever  knew;  but 
when  I  visited  him,  oh  !  how  was  the  glory 
departed  from  him  !  I  found  him  no  more 
that  sprightly  and  vivacious  son  of  joy  which 
he  used  to  be,  but  languishing,  pining  away, 
arid  withering  under  the  chastising  hand  of 
CJod  !  his  limbs  feeble  and  trembling,  his 
countenance  forlorn  and  ehastly,  and  the 
little  breath  he  had  left  srb!)ed  out  in  sor- 
rowful sighs  '.  his  l;(,rdy  hastening  apace  to 
the  dust,  to  lodge   in   the   silent  grave,  the 


*  Mr.  Horvey  is  supposed  to  have  written  this  let- 
ter when  he  was  at  Bnth  in  the  year  I74.'i.  It  was 
found  ainoiip  Mr.  Nash's  papers  after  his  death,  and 
an  extract  of  it  was  inserted  in  an  account  of  his 
death,  published  several  years  ago.  For  ought 
that  aiipears,  this  man  ol  pltn.sure  despi.sed  the 
awful  w.iniinf^  p;iveii  by  the  benevolent  Mr.  Hervcy 
and  died  as  he  had  lived. 


land  of  darkness  and  desolation  ;  bis  soul 
just  going  to  God  who  gave  it,  prejiaring 
itself  to  wing  away  to  its  long  home,  to 
enter  upon  an  imchangeable  and  eternal 
state.  When  I  was  come  up  into  his  cham- 
ber, and  had  seated  myself  on  his  bed,  he 
first  cast  a  most  wishful  look  upon  me,  and 
then  began,  as  well  as  he  was  able,  to  spealt. 
"  O  th;>t  I  had  been  wise,  that  1  had  known 
this  ;  that  I  had  considered  my  latter  end  I 
Ah  !  Mr.  Hervey,  death  is  knocking  at  my 
doors  ;  in  a  few  hours  more  I  shall  draw  my 
lastgasp,and  the!)  judgment,  the  tremendous 
judgment !  How  shall  I  appear,  unprepared 
as  I  am,  before  the  all-knowing  and  Omni- 
potent God  !  how  shall  I  endure  the  day  of 
his  coming!"  When  [mentioned,  among 
niiiriy  other  things,  that  strict  holiness 
which  he  hail  formerly  so  lightly  esteempd, 
he  renlied  with  a  hasty  eagerness,  "  Oh  ! 
that  holiness  is  the  only  thnig  I  now  long 
for:  I  have  not,  words  to  tell  you  how  high- 
ly I  value  it.  I  would  gladly  part  with  all 
my  estate,  large  as  it  is,  or  a  world,  to  ob- 
tain it.  Now  my  benighted  eyes  are  en- 
htened,  I  clearly  discern  the  things  that 
Me  excellent.  What  is  there  in  the  place 
whither  I  am  goin?  but  God  ?  or  what  is 
there  to  be  desired  on  earth  but  religion?" 
But  if  thi.s  God  should  restore  you  to 
health,  said  I,  think  you  that  you  would 
"ter  your  former  course?  "I  call  heaven 
and  earth  to  witness,"  said  he,  "  I  would 
labour  for  holmess  as  1  shall  soon  labour  for 
life.  As  for  riches  and  pleasiu'es,  and  the 
appl-auses  of  men,  I  count  them  as  dross 
and  dimg  ;  no  more  to  my  happiness  than 
the  feathers  that  lie  on  the  floor.  Oh  I  if 
the  righteous  Judge  would  try  me  once 
more  ;  if  he  would  but  reprieve  and  spare 
me  a  little  longer,  in  "what  a  spirit  would  I 
spend  the  remainder  of  my  days  !  I  would 
know  no  other  business,  aim  at  no  other 
end,  than  pc  rfectinp;  myself  in  holiness  : 
whatever  contributed  to  that,  every  means 
of  grace,  every  opportunity  of  spiritual  im- 
provement, should  be  dearer  to  me  than 
thousands  of  gold  and  silver.  But,  alas  ! 
why  do  I  amu^e  myself  with  fond  imagina- 
tions ?  The  bi'st  resolutions  are  now  in- 
siu:nifi(aTit,  because  they  are  too  late;  the 
day  ill  whit^h  1  should  liavc  worked  is  over 
ami  gone;   and  I  see  a   sad  lioirible   night 


716 


A  LETTER  TO  IlICHARD  NASH,  Esq. 


approaching,  bringing  with  it  the  blackness 
of  durkness  for  ever.  Heretofore,  (woe  is 
me  I)  when  God  called,  I  refused  ;  when  he 
invited,  I  was  one  of  them  that  made  ex- 
cuse :  Now,  therefore,  I  receive  the  reward 
of  my  deeds  ;  fearfulness  and  trembling  are 
come  upon  tne  ;  I  smart,  I  am  in  sore  an- 
guish already,  and  yet  this  is  but  the  begin- 
ning of  sorrows  !  It  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  1  shall  be  ;  but  sure  I  shall  be  ruined, 
undone,  and  destroyed  with  an  everlasting 
destruction  !" 

This  sad  scene  I  saw  with  my  eyes ; 
these  words,  and  many  more  equally  atl'ect- 
ing,  I  heard  with  my  ears  ;  and  soon  after 
attended  the  unhajjpy  gentleman  to  his 
tomb.  The  poor  breathless  skeleton  spoke 
in  such  an  accent,  and  with  so  much  ear- 
nestness, that  I  could  not  easily  forget  him 
or  his  words  ;  and  as  I  was  musing  upon 
this  sorrowful  subject,  I  remembered  Mr. 
Nash  ; — I  remembered  you,  sir,  for  I  dis- 
cerned too  near  an  agreement  and  corres- 
pondence between  yourself  and  the  deceas- 
ed. They  are  alike,  said  I,  in  their  ways, 
and  what  shall  hinder  them  from  being  alike 
in  their  end  ?  The  course  of  their  actions 
was  equally  full  of  sin  and  folly,  and  why 
should  not  the  period  of  them  be  equally 
full  of  horror  and  distress  ?  I  am  grievously 
afraid  for  the  survivor,  lest  as  he  lives  the 
life,sohe  should  die  the  death  of  this  wretch- 
ed man,  and  his  latter  end  should  be  like  his. 

For  this  cause,  therefore,  I  take  my  pen, 
to  advise,  to  admonish,  nay,  to  request  of 
you  to  repent  while  you  have  opportunity, 
a  happily  you  may  find  grace  and  forgive- 
ness. Yet  a  moment,  and  you  may  die  ; 
yet  a  little  while,  and  you  must  die  :  And 
will  you  go  down  with  infamy  and  despair 
to  the  grave,  rather  than  depart  in  peace, 
and  with  hopes  full  of  immoitality  'f 

Eut  I  must  tell  you  plainly,  sir,  with  the 
utmost  freedom,  that  your  present  beha- 
viour is  not  the  way  to  reconcile  yourself 
to  God  ;  you  are  so  far  from  making  atone- 
ment to  offended  justice,  that  you  are  ag- 
gravating the  former  account,  and  heaping 
up  an  increase  of  wrath  against  the  day  of 
wiath.  For  what  say  the  Scriptures — 
those  books  which,  at  the  consummation  of 
all  things,  the  Ancient  of  Days  shall  open, 
and  judge  you  by  every  jot  and  tittle  there- 


in— what  fay  these  sacred  volumes  ?  Wiiy, 
they  testify  and  declare  to  every  soul  of 
man,  "  That  whosoever  liveth  in  pleasnre 
is  dead  while  he  liveth  ;"  so  that,  so  long  as 
you  roll  on  in  a  continued  circle  of  sensual 
delights  'ind  vain  entertainments,  you  are 
dead  to  all  the  purposes  of  jiiety  and  vir- 
tue ;  you  are  as  odious  to  (iod  as  a  corrupt 
carcass  that  lies  putrefying  in  the  church- 
yard ;  you  are  as  far  from  doing  your  duty, 
or  working  out  your  salvation,  or  restoring 
yourself  to  the  divine  favour,  as  a  heap  of 
diy  bones  nailed  up  in  a  cofiin  is  from  vi- 
gour and  activity.  Think,  sir,  I  conjure 
you,  think  upon  this,  if  you  have  any  inclin- 
ation to  escape  the  fire  that  never  wdl  be 
quenched.  Would  you  be  rescued  from 
the  fury  and  fierce  anger  of  Almighty  God  ? 
would  you  be  delivered  from  weeping,  and 
wailing,  and  incessant  gnashing  of  teeth  ? 
Sure  you  would  !  Then  I  exhort  you  as  h 
friend,  I  beseech  you  as  a  brother,  I  charge 
you  as  a  messenger  fiom  the  great  God,  in 
his  own  most  solemn  words,  "  Cast  away 
from  you  your  transgressions  j  make  you  a 
new  heart,  and  a  new  sjiirit,  so  iniquity 
shall  not  be  your  ruin." 

Perhaps  you  may  be  disposed  to  contemn 
this  and  its  serious  purport,  or  to  recom- 
mend it  to  your  companions  as  a  fit  subject 
for  raillery  ;  but  let  me  tell  you  beforehand, 
that  for  this,  as  well  as  for  other  things,  God 
will  bring  you  into  judgment.  He  sees  me  now 
write,  he  will  observe  you  while  you  read  ; 
he  notes  down  my  words  in  his  book,  he 
will  note  down  your  consequent  procedure  ; 
so  that  not  upon  me,  but  upon  your  own 
self,  will  the  neglecting  or  despising  of  my 
sayings  turn.  "  If  thou  be  wise,  thou  shall 
be  wise  for  thyself;  if  thou  scornest,  thou 
alone  shalt  bear  it." 

Be  not  concerned,  sir,  to  know  my  name  ; 
it  is  enough  that  you  will  know  this  here- 
after. Tarry  but  a  little,  till  the  Lord,  even 
the  most  mighty  God,  shall  call  the  heaven 
from  above,  an<i  the  earth,  that  he  may  judge 
his  people  ;  and  then  you  will  see  me  face 
to  face  :  there  shall  1  be  ready,  at  the  dread- 
ful tribunal,  to  joy  and  rejoice  with  you,  if 
you  regard   my  admonitions,   and    live  ;  or 

to  be what    God  prevent,   by  inclining 

your  heart  to  receive  this  friendly  admoni- 
tion. 


RULES  AND  ORDERS 


ASSEMBLY  FOR  CHRISTIAN  IMPROVEMENT. 


PsAi.M  Ixxxix.  7.—"  God  is  greatly  to  bo  feared  in  the  assemblies  of  his  saints,  and  to  be  liad  in  reverenc* 
by  all  that  are  round  about  him." 


I.  That  this  assembly  consist  of  no 
more  thun  ten  or  rwtlve  at  tlie  utmost,  lest 
ail  iiicix'ased  iiuinlit;!-  should  proiluce  con- 
fusion or  (iisseiisious  ;  and  lliat  eacii  mem- 
ber, ill  Older  to  prevent  any  sinister  reflec- 
tions from  the  inconsiderate  or  vicious,  be 
t'autioiis  of  mentioning  to  any  others  tliat 
hti  beloiiij's  to  suilit  an  assembly.  And 
that  each  mumber,  before  he  sets  out,  and 
on  liis  leturn,  do  use  the  forms  of  prayer 
which  are  speciGed  in  the  minutes,  and  par- 
ticulaily  adajited  to  tiiis  occasion. 

II.  Tiiat  no  one  shall  be  admitted  a 
member  who  has  not  been  proposed  by  the 
fhairinan  at  the  preceding  assembly,  or  who 
shall  be  disapproved  of  by  any  two  members 
on  a  ballot,  which  shall  always  be  taken  on 
such  occasions,  how  unanimous  soever  the 
members  may  seem  to  be  beforehand. 

III.  That  the  mem!)ers  shall  be  register- 
ed alphabetically  in  the  minutes  of  the  as- 
sembly's ])roccedings,  and  that  the  chairman 
of  tJie  di'v  be  appointed  regularly  according 
to  that  list  ;  so  that  no  misunderstanding 
may  arise  about  precedence  ;  and  that  a 
treasurer  be  elected  anuually,  the  first  Tues- 
day in  Jamiaiy. 

IV.  That  the  assembly  meet  on  the 
first  Tuesday  in  every  month,  during  the 
summer  .season,  punctually  at  twelve 
o'ch.ck,  and  on  the  moonlight  Tuesday, 
during  the  wiiitcr  season,  exactly  at  ten,  at 
such  inn  as  shall  from  time  to  time  be 
iigreed  on  l)y  ilie  majority  ;  and  that  din- 
ner be  ready  precisely  at  two  in  the  suin- 
mer,  and  one  in  the  winter. 


*  Referred  to  in  Mr.  Hervey's  Life. 

t  As  this  assembly  met  at  difl'erent  inns,  jiublic 
prayer  would  have  alarmed  the  attendants,  and 
caused  gross  misrepresentation.  Besides,  the  real 
design  of  this  meeting  wac  known  only  t(.  a  few,  and 
the  injunction  of  secrecy  was  given  to  each  member, 
in  order  to  avoid  tlie  ajipearaiice  of  religious  osten- 
tation, and  in  compliance  with  the  aiioslle's  precau- 
tion, viz.  "Let  not  your  good  be  evil  spoken  of." 
IJoni.  V.  HI. 


V.  That  as  soon  as  the  assembly  is  met, 
the  names  of  the  present  members  shall  be 
entered  in  the  minutes,  and  the  forfeits  (if 
there  be  any  due)  deposited  in  the  charity 
purse.  After  which,  thechairmaji  shall  in- 
quire if  the  i)rayers,  as  agreed  upon  by  the 
assembly  and  entered  in  their  minutes,  have 
been  properly  used  by  each  member  at  his 
own  home.  Then  the  chairman  shall,  in  a 
short  charge  or  exhcntation,  remind  his  as- 
sociates of  the  importance  of  such  a  meet- 
ing, and  enumerate  the  good  effects  which 
the  selected  chapters,  if  rightly  improved, 
may  produce. 

V  I.  The  chairman  shall  then  read  the  chap- 
ter in  the  Old  Testament  in  English,  and 
shall  pause  at  the  end  of  every  verse,  that 
any  one  who  pleases  may  make  such  in- 
quiries and  rtliections  as  may  occasionally 
arise  ;  but  that  no  two  persons  speak  at  a 
time  ;  and  if  two  accidentally  begin,  the 
chairman  shall  direct  which  is  to  go  on. 
And  that  every  member  shall,  against  the 
next  meeting,  send  to  the  chairman  what- 
ever observation  of  his  on  the  chapter  of  the 
day  the  members  then  present  had  desired 
to  have  entered  in  their  minutes  ;  by  wliich 
method  many  usefid  observations  may  be 
preserved  :  and  in  case  any  verse  shall  not 
be  cleared  of  its  difficulties  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  the  j)resent  members,  the  .said  verse 
shall  be  reconsidered  at  the  next  meeting. 

VII.  At  three  o'clock  jnecisely  during 
the  siunmer  season  (no  more  than  an  hour 
being  alloweil  for  dinner,)  the  chairman 
shall  proceed  in  reading  a  cliai)ter  in  Greek 
out  of  the  New  Testament,  to  be  comment- 
ed on  in  like  manner  as  that  out  of  the 
Old.  But  in  the  winter  season,  when  the 
assembly  meet  at  ten,  the  chapter,  both  in 
the  Old  us  well  as  the  New  Testament, 
shall  be  icad  before  dinner;  and  after  din- 
ner, no  other  business  than  that  specified  ia 
Uho  iiirilh  article  siiall  be  entered  on. 


RULES  AND  ORDERS,  &c. 


718 

VIII.  That  the  two  chapters  to  be  con- 
si(iered  by  the  assembly  at  their  next  meet- 
ing, be  previously  appointed  before  the  ad- 
journment  of  every  assembly,  either  by  the 
sui-ceeiiing  cliHirmaii,  if  present,  or  in  ca^e 
of  his  absence,  by  the  majority;  of  whit-li 
chapters  the  at)sent  members  shall  have 
timely  notice  sent  them  in  writing. 

IX.  That  at  every  meeting  (as  time 
permits)  each  member,  in  an  alphabetical 
order,  shall  be  desired  to  give  an  account 
of  some  reli;Ti()us  author  («  hich  he  has  read 
in  the  preceding  month)  in  as  concise  and 
succinct  a  manner  as  possible. 

X.  That  at  every  meeting  half  a  crown 
shall  be  given  by  each  member  for  charita- 
ble uses  ;  and  that  at  the  end  of  the  year. 
the  money  shall  be  expended  in  clothing  or 
educating  such  poor  persons,  or  relieving 
such  incurables,  as  the  members  in  their 
alphabetical  order  shall  recommend  to  the 
assembly. 

XI.  That  every  member  who  is  absent, 
though  occasioned  by  the  most  urgent 
business,  or  even  indisposition,  (unless  such 
indisposition  shall  continue  longer  than  a 
month,)  shall  pay  half  a  crown  towards  the 
charity  purse,  and  one  shilling  and  sixpence 
towards  the  dinner,  in  the  same  manner  as 
if  he  had  been  present. 

XII.  That  the  assembly  break*  up  by 
seven  in  the  summer,  and  by  four  in  the 
winter ;  and  that  each  member,  on  his  re- 
turn home,  use  the  form  of  prayer  which  is 
specified  in  our  minutes,  and  peculiarly 
adapted  to  this  occasion. 

We,  whose  names  are  underwritten,  have 
this  day  (being  the  seventh  of  July  1747) 
subscribed  our  assent  to  these  rules  and  or- 
ders, as  witness  our  hands. 


The  Fo?'.'?  of  Prayer,  composed  hi/  Mr.  Her- 
vei/.,  to  be  used  by  each  Menibei'  before 
setting  out  for  the  Assembhj. 

Matt,  xviii.  20.— "  Lord,  thou  hast  saiJ,  Where  two 
or  three  are  gathered  tojietlicr  in  my  name,  thtjc 
am  I  in  the  midst  of  them  " 

Almighty  and  immortal  God,  Father  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  through  him 
the  God  of  all  mercies,  vouchsafe,  we  be- 
seech thee,  to  look  down  upon  us  thy  sin- 
ful servants,  who  are  preparing  to  meet  to- 
gether in  thy  name,  and  with  an  hiniible 
desire  to  build  uj)  one  another  in  our  most 
holy  religion.  Pardon  all  our  iniqinlies 
through  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  coven- 
ant, and  make  us  and  our  services  accepted 
through  the  Beloved.  O  heaveidy  Father, 
unite  us   to  one   another  by   mutual  love, 


*  Some  of  the  members  lived  five  or  six  miles  froni 
the  place  of  meeting,  whi  h  was  always  at  j-uulic- 
houses,  and  as  near  the  centre  of  each  member's  re- 
sidence as  could  )je  conveniently  contrived. 


and  to  thy  blessed  self  i)y  faith  unfeigned. 
Enlighten  our  nniids  with  llie  knowledge  of 
thy  truth,  and  sanctify  our  hearts  by  the 
power  of  thy  grace.  J)irect  our  counsels, 
and  prosper  all  cur  endeavours,  to  the  glory 
of  thy  divine  M;nesty,  and  the  salvation  of 
our  own,  anil  the  souls  of  others.  Grant 
this,  niost  gracious  God,  through  the  pre- 
cious death  and  never-ceasing  intercession 
ot"  Jesus  Christ  onr  Lord.     Amen. 


TTie  Form  of  Prayer,  composed  hi  Mr. 
Herveij,  to  be  v.sed  by  each  Ma.iljer  when 
rctiirnedfrvin  the  Assembly. 
Matt,  xviii.  1!). — "  Lord,  thou  hast  said.  If  two  of 
you  shall  agree  on  earth,  as  touching  any  thing  that 
ye  s'.iail  ask,  it  shall  be  done  for  them  of  my  Father 
which  is  in  heaven." 

O  Lord  God  of  our  salvation,  thou  giver 
of  eveiy  good  and  perfect  gift,  we  adore  thy 
glorious  name  and  beneficence,  for  the  re- 
demj)tion  of  our  souls  by  Jtsus  Christ,  and 
for  all  thy  other  unnumbered  and  undeserv- 
ed mercies.  In  a  particular  manner,  we 
l)raise  thy  unspeakable  goodness  for  the 
valuable  opportimity  we  have  this  day  en- 
joyed, of  provoking  one  another  to  love, 
and  to  good  works.  Pity  our  infirmities, 
most  merciful  Father,  and  pardon  whatever 
thou  hast  seen  amiss  in  the  tenor  of  our 
conversation,  or  in  the  s))irit  of  our  minds. 
Sanctify,  we  humbly  beseech  thee,  thy  holy 
word  which  we  have  heard.  Command  it 
to  sink  deep  into  our  souls,  and  to  be  a 
lively  and  lasting  principle  of  godliness  in 
oiir  hearts.  O  let  us,  by  every  such  con- 
ference, grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  know- 
ledge of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ  I  that  tlirough  thy  infinitely  precious 
favour  we  may  become  steadfast  in  faith, 
joyful  through  hope,  and  rooted  in  charity  ; 
and  so  much  the  more,  as  we  see  the  day 
approaching.  And  forasuiuch  as  we  are 
now  separated  into  a  world  where  wicked- 
ness abounds,  preserve  us,  O  God  our  de- 
fence,  from  the  least  infection,  and  from 
every  appearance  of  evil.  Inspire  us  with 
wisdom  so  to  order  our  conversation,  that 
we  may  give  no  just  oi;ca^ion  of  olFence  in 
any  thing.  Endue  us  with  holiness,  that 
we  may  adorn  the  gospel  of  God  our  Sa- 
viour m  all  things;  and  animate  us  with 
such  a  steady  and  well-tempered  zeal,  that 
neither  llie  slothfulness  of  our  nature,  nor 
the  fear  of  the  world,  may  withhold  us  from 
pinvuing  siich  courses  as  may  be  conducive 
to  the  glory  of  thy  blessed  name,  the  ad- 
vancement of  true  religion,  and  the  salva- 
tion of  our  immortal  souls.  This,  and 
whatsoever  else  is  needlul  for  us,  and  for 
carrying  on  the  work  which  thou  hast  giviii 
us  to  do,  we  humbly  beg,  for  the  sake  of 
Jesus  Christ,  our  only  JVIediator,  and  all- 
suflicient  Redeemer.     Amen. 


RULES  AND  ORDERS  OF  A  RELIGIOUS  SOCIETY, 

CouHstiiuj  of  Two  Clauses,  viz — Of  Mtn,  into  ivhich  no  Woman  can  he,  ad  mil  ted  ;  and  of 

Married  Men,  their  Wives,  and  other  Women,  into  which  no  Unmarried 

Man  can  be  admitted. 

Each  Class  meets  every  other  week  alternately. 


Rule  I. — As  the  sole  desipn  of  this  So- 
ciety is  to  promote  real  holiness  in  heart 
and  life,  every  nieinher  of  it  is  to  have  this 
continually  in  view,  trusting  in  the  divine 
power  and  gracious  conduct  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to 
excite,  advance,  and  perfect  all  good  in  us. 

Rule  II. — That,  in  order  to  the  being 
of  one  heart  and  one  mind,  and  to  prevent 
all  things  which  gender  strifes,  as  well  as  to 
remove  all  occasion  of  offence  from  being 
taken  against  this  society,  no  person  is  to 
be  admitted  a  member,  or  allowed  to  con- 
tinue such,  who  is  a  mend)er  of  any  other 
meeting,  or  follows  any  other  preachmg  than 
that  of  the  established  ministry  of  the 
Church  of  England.  That  none  be  mem- 
bers but  such  as  attend  the  sacrament  every 
motuh  ;  and  that  no  persoii  be  at  any  time 
introduced,  except  by  request  of  the  direc- 
tor. 

Rule  III. — That  no  person  be  admitted 
a  member  but  upon  the  recommendation  of 
the  director,  with  the  consent  of  the  ma- 
jority of  members  then  present  :  And  ih;it 
the  director  be  the  Reverend  Mr.  Walker.* 
Rule  IV. — That  the  members  of  this 
society  meet  together  one  evening  in  a  week, 
at  a  convenient  place,  and  that  tliey  go 
home  at  nine  o'clock.  And  that  all  matters 
of  business  be  done  before  the  sentences 
begin. 

Rule  V  — That  every  member  give  con- 
stant attendance,  arui  be  present  at  the 
hour  of  meeting  precisely.  And  that 
whoever  absents  himself  four  meetings  to- 
gether, without  giving  a  satisfactory  account 
to  the  director,  which  shall  by  him  be  com- 
numicated  to  the  society,  shall  be  looked 
upon  as  disaffected  to  the  society. 

Rule  VI. — That,  to  prevent  confusion, 
no  person  be  removed  from  tliis  society  but 
by  tlie  director,  \\ho  shall  be  [iresent  on 
such  occasions.  That  any  memlser  do  be- 
forehand ap[)ly  to  the  du'ector,  in  case  he 
judges  such  removal  necessary.  That  a 
disorderly  carriage,  or  a  proud,  contentious, 


•  This  society  is  very  htijipy  ill  having  so  accom- 
plisheii  a  person  at  their  head.  Ihit  wlicre  such  a 
one  cannot  be  had,  peiliaps  it  wMilil  be  iirudent  to 
elect  a  director  annually,  whose  oilice  niif;ht  be  con- 
tinued a  more  or  less  nimibfr  ct"  years,  as  seemed  best 
for  the  general  good. 


disputing  temper  (the  greatest  adversary  to 
Christian  love  and  peace,)  be  sufficient 
ground  for  such  complaint  and  removal. 

Rule  VII — That  all  the  members,  con- 
sidering the  sad  consequences  of  vanity  and 
amusements  over  the  nation,  do,  in  charity 
to  the  souls  of  others,  as  well  as  to  avoid 
the  danger  of  such  things  themselves,  look 
upon  themsehes  as  obliged  to  use  peculiar 
caution  with  respect  to  many  of  the  usual 
amusements,  however  iimocent  they  may 
be,  or  i>e  thought  in  themselves  ;  such  as 
cards,  dancings,  clubs  for  entertainment, 
j)lay-hotK»^s,  sports  at  festivals  and  pari^h- 
feiists,  and,  as  much  as  may  be,  parish-feasts 
themselves,  lest,  by  joining  herein,  they 
^hould  be  a  hinderance  to  themselves  or 
their  neighbours. 

Rule  VIII. — That,  with  the  consent  of 
the  director,  the  major  part  of  the  society 
have  power  to  make  a  new  order  when 
need  requires  ;  but  that  the  proposal  for 
this  purpose  be  made  by  the  director.  And 
that  any  member  may  consult  the  director 
hereupon  before  the  day  of  meeting. 

Rule  IX — That  jiersons  dispost<l  to 
become  membeis  of  this  society,  must  first 
be  proposed  by  thediiector,  in  order  that  the 
members  of  the  society  may  observe  their 
conduct  for  the  space  of  three  months  be- 
fore admittance. 

Rule  X. — That  every  member  do  con- 
sider himself  as  peculiarly  obliged  to  live 
in  an  inoffensive  and  orderly  maimer,  to  the 
glory  of  God,  and  the  edifying  his  neigh- 
bours. That  he  study  to  advance  in  him- 
self and  others,  humility,  faith  in  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  love  to  Cod,  gospel  repent- 
ance, and  new  obedience,  wherein  Chnstiau 
edification  consists.  And  that,  in  all  his 
conversation  hereupon,  he  stick  close  to  the 
plain  and  obvious  sense  of  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures, carefully  avoiding  all  nictties  and  re- 
finenients  upon  them. 

Rule  X  l. — That  these  orders  shall  be 
read  over  at  least  four  times  in  the  year  by 
the  dircctoT,  and  that  with  such  delibera- 
tion, that  each  memtier  may  have  time  to 
examitie  himself  by  them. 

Rule  Xlf. — That  the  members  of  this 
society  do  meekly  and  hundily  join  together 
in  the  following  offices  of  devotioJi. 


720 


RULES  OF  A  RELIGIOUS   SOCIETY. 


THE  OFFICE  OF    DEVOTION    USED  WEEKLY  AT 
THE  MEETING  OF  THE  SOCIF.TY. 

The  director  shall  read  thexe  sentences,  Idmsdf 
and  every  one  staiidbifj. 

"  God  is  greatly  to  be  feared  in  the  as- 
semblies of  his  saints,  and  to  be  had  in  re- 
verence by  all  that  are  round  about  him." 
Psalm  Ixxxix.  7. 

"  God  is  a  righteous  Judge,  strong  and 
patient,  and  God  is  provoked  every  day." 
Psalm  vii.  12. 

"  God  will  bring  every  work  into  judg- 
ment, with  every  secret  thing,  whether  it  be 
pood,  or  whether  it  be  evil."  Eccles.  xii. 
14. 

"  He  that  hideth  his  sins  shall  not  pros- 
per; but  he  that  confesseth  and  forsaketh 
them,  shall  have  mercy."  Prov.  xxviii.  13. 

"  If  any  man  sinneth,  we  have  an  advo- 
cate with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righ- 
teous ;  and  he  is  the  propitiation  for  our 
sins."  1  John  ii.  1,  2. 

"  O  come,  let  us  worship,  and  fall  down, 
and  kneel  before  the  Lord  our  Maker." 
Psalm  xcv.  5,  6. 

Tlien  shall  be  said  these  three   Collects,  all 
kneeling. 

"  Prevent  us,  O  Lord,"  &c. 

"  Blessed  Lord,  who  hast  caused  all  holy 
Scriptures,"  &c. 

"  O  God,  for  as  much  as  without  thee," 
&c. 

All  seating  themselves,  a  portion  of  Scripture 
shall  be  read.  Then  kr-eeling  dotvn,  they 
shall  join  in  this  confession  of  sin. 

"  Almighty  God,  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  Maker  of  all  things,  Judge  of 
all  men,"  &c. 

"  Our  Father,  which  art,"  &c. 

After  uduch,  the  director  alone  shall  sajj, 

"  Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  who 
hatest  nothing  that  thou  hast  made,  &c. 

O  most  holy  and  blessed  God  !  the  Cre- 
ator, Governor,  and  Judge  of  all  !  who  hatest 
falsehood  and  hypocrisy,  and  wilt  not  accept 
the  prayer  of  feigned  lijis,  but  hast  promised 
to  show  mercy  to  such  as  turn  unto  thee  by 
true  faith  and  repentance ;  vouchsafe,  we 
pray  thee,  to  create  in  us  clean  and  upright 
hearts  through  an  inifeigned  faith  in  thy 
Son,  our  Saviour.  To  us  indeed  belongeth 
shame  and  confusion  of  face;  we  are  not 
worthy  to  lilt  up  our  eyes  or  our  voice  to- 
wards heaven  ;  our  natures  are  depraved, 
and  our  ways  have  been  perverse  before 
thee.  O  let  not  thy  wrath  rise  against  us, 
lest  we  l)e  consumed  in  a  moment ;  but  let 
thy  merciful  bowels  yearn  over  us,  and 
vouchsafe  to  purify  and  pardon  us,  through 
thine  all-sullicient  grace  and  mercy  in  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Since  it  hath  pleased 
thee  to  uller  him  up  us   a  sacrifice   for  sin- 


ners, vouchsafe,  we  beseech  thee,  to  cleanse 
us  from  all  iniquity  through  his  l)!ood.  We 
balieve  that  he  is  able  to  save  to  the  utter- 
most those  that  come  unto  thee  by  him  ; 
and  we  do  earnestly  desire  to  embrace  him 
as  our  Prince  and  Saviour.  O  give  us  repen- 
tance and  remission  of  sin  through  his  name. 
All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray,  every 
one  after  his  own  way :  Good  Lord,  reduce 
us  into  thy  fold  through  this  great  Shepherd 
of  souls,  and  be  pleased  to  lay  on  him  the 
iniquity  of  us  all.  And  as  we  have  much  to 
be  forgiven,  be  pleased  to  incline  our  hearts 
to  love  thee  much,  who  forgivest  iniquity, 
transgression,  and  sin.  Give  us  that  faith 
that  worketh  by  love,  and  such  love  as  will 
constrain  us  to  have  regard  to  all  thy  com- 
mandments. And  make  us  to  look  carefully 
to  all  our  ways,  that  we  may  never  again  do 
any  thing  whereby  thy  holy  name  may  be 
blasphemed,  or  thine  authority  despised. 

Give  us  the  deepest  humility,  without 
which  we  can  never  be  accepted  of  thee, 
our  infinitely  condescending  God  :  make  us 
continually  to  tread  in  the  steps  of  our  bless- 
ed Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ ;  being 
of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  always  influenced 
by  the  highest  love  of  thee  our  God,  and  by 
the  most  charitable  disposition  towards  all 
men. 

Vouchsafe  to  endue  us  with  the  saving 
knowledge  of  spiritual  things,  that  we  may 
receive  all  thy  truths  in  the  love  of  them,  in 
all  patience,  purity,  justice,  temperance,  god- 
liness, and  brotherly  kindness  ;  that  we  may 
adorn  our  holy  profession,  and  resemble  the 
divine  goodness  of  thee  our  heavenly  Father. 
And  since  we  are  not  only  weak  and  frail, 
but  corrupt  and  sinful,  vouchsafe,  O  Lord, 
to  keep  us  by  the  power  of  thy  Holy  Spirit, 
that  we  fall  not  from  our  avowed  steadfast- 
ness in  all  Christian  duty.  Preserve  us 
from  all  the  sin  and  vanity  to  which  our  age, 
condition,  and  nature  are  prone,  and  to 
which  the  devil  and  this  world  may  at  any 
time  tempt  us. 

Glorify,  good  God,  thy  strength  in  our 
weakness,  thy  grace  in  our  pollution,  and 
thy  mercy  in  our  salvation.  May  our  holy 
religion  be  grounded  and  settled  in  our 
hearts,  that  out  of  the  good  treasure  of  a 
gracious  heart  our  speech  may  be  savoury, 
and  our  conversation  exemplaiy ;  that  we 
may  be  fruitful  in  all  good  works,  even  to 
our  old  age,  and  to  our  last  day. 

Fit  us,  v/e  pray  thee,  for  every  state  of 
life  into  which  thy  providence  shall  cast  us  ; 
prosper  our  lawful  undertakings ;  preserve 
us  night  and  day,  and  prepare  us  for  an 
hopeful  death  and  a  blessed  eternity. 

Be  pleased,  we  beseech  thee,  to  bless  all 
those  societies  who  in  truth  apply  their 
hearts  to  thy  service  and  gloiy  :  We  pray 
thee  be  pleased  to  strengiheu,  establish,  and 
settle  both  them    and   us   in   thy  holy  faith, 


RULES  OF  A  RELIGIOUS  SOCIETY. 


7-'l 


fcnr,  and  love.  Let  nothing;  in  this  world 
lii^cotUH^'e  lis  fioiii  the  pursuit  of  thoSe  holy 
])iirpi)ses  which  thy  Spirit  h:ith  at  any  time 
put  into  our  liearts  and  mind;  but  make  us 
all  faithful  to  thee,  oui"  avowed  God  and  de- 
sired portion,  even  unto  death,  that  we  at 
last  (with  thy  whole  church)  liiuy  he  par- 
takers of  that  eternal  life  and  perfect  t)liss 
\rhi(li  thou  hast  proiniscd  throuirh  Jesus 
Christ  tliv  only  he^^otteii  Son,  our  Media- 
tor and  liedeemer.      Anii'ti. 

"  Almighty  and  evcr-li\  insr  God,  who,  by 
thy  iioly  apostle,  has  taught  us  to  make 
prayers,"  &,C. 

Then  ail  standiny  up,  a  Psalm  sitall  he  suiuj, 
and  a  sermon*  read,  or  a  charge  given  Iji/ 
the  director.  After  7vhich,  some  suitable 
prayeis  shall  he  used,  n$  he  shall  judge  Jit. 

Then  all  standing  up,  this  exhortation  to  hu- 
mility shall  be  read. 

My  brethren,  since  the  great  God  has  of- 
ten assured  us  in  his  holy  word,  "  that  he 
will  resist  the  proud,  and  give  grace  unto 
the  humble,"  James  iv.  U,  1  Fet.  v.  <>,  let 
lis  consider  that  all  our  undertakings,  though 
ever  so  good,  will  fail  and  come  to  nought, 
unless  we  be  truly  and  deeply  humble. 
Luke  xiv.  11.  Indeed  it  cannot  be  other- 
wise ;  because  the  proud  person  quits  his 
reliance  on  God  to  rest  in  himself,  which  is 
to  exchange  a  rock  for  a  reed. 

Alas  !  what  are  we,  poor  empty  nothings  ! 
Gen.  xxxii.  10.  Yea,  what  is  worse,  we 
are  condemned  perishing  sinners  !  We  have, 
perhaps,  tmderstanding  now,  but  God  can 
soon  turn  it  into  madness.  Dan.  iv.  42. 
We  may  have  some  atlaiiwnents  in  grace,  but 
spiiitual  pride  will  wither  all,  and  soon  re- 
diiee  us  to  a  very  piofhgate  and  wretched 
estate,  Isa.  Ixvi-  'J;  such  as  we  have  seen 
others  fall  into,  who  have  begun  in  the  spirit, 
find  ended  in  the  flesh  !  W^hat  have  we 
that  we  have  not  received  ?  1  Cor.  iv.  7  ; 
and  even  that,  he  who  gave  it  may  as  soon 
take  away. 

Ve  that  are  young  in  years,  and  younger 
in  gr.ice,  I  Tim.  S,  fi,  are  in  danger  of  self- 
conceit,  and  of  being  jjufled  up,  which  is  a 
quicksand  in  which  thousands  have  been 
swallowed  iij)  and  perished.  It  is  not  in 
vain  that  the  apostle  requires,  "that  young 
men  be  exhorted  to  be  sober-minded,"  Tit. 
ii.  6  ;  Prov.  xvi.  18  ;  which  he  elsewhere 
explains  when  he  says,  "  Let  no  man  think 
of  himself  more  higiily  than  he  ought  to 
think,  but  to  think  soberly,"  Rom.  xii.  3- 
Isa.  xiv.  12,  13. 

By  pride  the  angels  fell  from  heaven,  1 
Tim.  iii.  6  ;  and  if  ever  we  climb  up  to 
those  blessed  seats  from  which  tliey  are  fal- 
len, it  must  be  by  the  gracious  steps  of  hu- 


•  The  <\irector,  when  al)ro.id  or  indisposed,  is  to 
aBlK)int  whal  strmoii  shall  be  rtad,  and  by  whom. 


mility  and  lowliness  of  mind,  Luke  xviii.  l-l 
"  Wherefore,  let  him  thatthinketh  he  stand- 
eth,  take  heed  lest  he  fall,"  1  Cor.  x.  12- 
"  Let  us  walk  humbly  with  our  God,"  and 
ever  have  lowly  thoughts  of  our  vile  selves, 
Rom.  xi.  20,  and  of  our  poor  attainments, 
and  of  our  defective  performances  :  and 
with  St.  Paul  (who  was  nothing  behind  the 
very  ctiiefest  apostles)  let  us  always  say,  I 
am  nothing,  2  Cor.  xii.  11. 

Let  us  therefore  now  sing  to  the  praise 
and  glory  of  God,  to  whom  alone  praise  is 
due. 
A  Psalm  being  sung,  the  director  shall  say, 

"  It  is  very  meet  and  right,"  &c. 
AU  shall  join 

"•  Therefore  with  aiigels  and  archangels," 
&c. 

The  director  alone. 

"  May  the  grace  ofour  Lord  Jesus  Christ," 
&c.    Amen, 


Co7isiderationg  laid  before  the  Members  of  this 
Society;  being  the  substance  vf  the  first 
charge  or  exhortation  spoke  at  its  opening  by 
the  director. 

Brethrkx, — You  expect  that  I  laybefore 
you  the  design  of  this  society,  and  give  you 
some  cautions  concerning  it.  The  design 
is  threefold  :  1.  To  glorify  God  ;  2.  To  be 
quickened  and  confirmed  ourselves ;  3-  To 
render  us  more  useful  among  ourneighbours. 

1. — As  a  society,  we  shall  be  better  able 
to  glorify  God  ;  for  hereby  we  bear  a  more 
evident  testimony  to  the  cause  of  Christ, 
and  make  a  more  avowed  confession  of  him 
and  his  words,  in  these  evil  days,  than  we 
could  do  when  separate. 

Every  one  of  you  desires  that  the  king- 
dom of  Jesus  Christ  were  more  established 
and  more  honourable  in  the  world  than  it  is, 
and  you  join  your  hand,  with  others,  to  pro- 
mote so  desirable  an  end. 

Take  these  cautions  for  this  purpose  : 

1.  Look  upon  yourself  as  one  associated 
with  others  in  vindication  of  your  Master's' 
honour. 

2.  Never  be  ashamed  of  him,  or  his  doc- 
trine, or  of  this  society. 

3-  Demean  yourself  to  every  one  as  his 
disciple,  by  walking  in  humility,  meekness, 
heavenly  mindedness,  charity,  after  Christ's 
example. 

4.  Keep  yourself  heedfully  from  all  things 
which  may  disgrace  your  Master  and  this  so- 
ciety ;  such  as.  Pride  in  a  conceit  of  your 
knowledge  or  attainments,  or  that  you  are 
a  member  of  this  society  :  Valuing  your- 
self upon  any  distinction  in  station  or  wealth 
Sinking  into  a  worldly  frame,  or  declining 
into  sloth  and  idkness  ;  Practising  the  least 
3  a 


722  RULES  OF  A   RET, 

dishonesty,  or  conniving  at  the  dishonesty 
of  others  :  Making  compliances  to  jivoiii 
shame,  or  promote  worldly  interest  :  Fall- 
ing into  lukewarmness,  and  forgetting  your 
first  love:   Slighting  puhlic  ordinances. 

5.  Often  (especially  before  and  after  great 
trials,)  refiict  that  yon  belong  to  a  religious 
society  for  promoting  the  gloiy  of  Christ. 

II — The  second  design  of  this  society  is, 
to  be  quickened  and  confirmed  ourselves. 
For  hereby  we  shall  be  better  able  to  main- 
tain the  war  against  our  enemies  (especially 
the  woild)  and  to  grow  in  grace  ;  seeing,  by 
this  association,  we  have  the  Spirit  to  bless 
our  exercises;*  shall  have  the  benefit  of 
mutual  advice  and  reproof ;  shall  be  more 
hardy  to  oppose  the  temjjtations  besetting 
us  in  this  wicked  world  ;  shall  walk  under 
a  peculiar  restraint,  as  being  members  of  a 
religious  society ;  and  shall  be  assisted  by 
the  prayers,  as  of  one  another,  so  of  all 
good  men  in  the  whole  Christian  church. 
To  this  end, 

1.  Watch  over  one  another  in  love. 

2.  Be  willing  to  hear  of  your  faults,  and 
of  the  fears  and  suspicions  of  these  your 
friends  conceniing  you. 

3.  Be  watcliful  against  any  disgust  to 
one  another ;  and  if  any  arise  in  you,  with- 
out delay  tell  the  party,  and  if  that  avail  not, 
tell  the  director. 

4.  Desire  the  prayers  one  of  another,  and 
pray  for  one  another. 

5.  Be  sure  you  rest  not  on  your  beirsg  a 
member  of  this  society ;  seeking  continu- 
ally to  cast  off  all  self-dependence. 

6.  Watch  the  least  decay  of  love  to 
Christ,  or  zeal  for  his  honour  and  the  good 
of  souls. 

7.  Confirm  continually  upon  your  heart 
the  obligations  you  lie  under  as  a  member 
of  a  religious  society. 

III. — The  third  design  of  this  society  is, 
to  render  us  more  useful  among  our  neigh- 
bours. Hereby  we  are  more  obseivable. 
People  will  not  be  so  easily  quiet  in  their 
sins.  Good  examples  carry  a  brighter  and 
more  convincing  light,  confounding  the 
works  of  darkness.      To  this  end, 

1.  Be  careful  to  set  a  Christian  example 
before  the  world. 

2.  Think  not  to  gain  any  by  making  com- 
pliances. 

3.  Discountenance  all  such  things  as  you 
see  prejudicial  to  others,  such  as  taverns, 
ale-houses,  gaming,  and  many  sports  which 
are  destructive  to  sonls. 

4.  Show  all  love  to  men's  souls  and  bo- 
dies. 

5.  Avoid  all  disputings  which  proceed 
from  pride,  and  nurse  contention  and  vai-i- 
ance. 

*  There  is  a  most  useful  little  piece  for  tliese  pur- 
poses, entitled  "Regulations  and  Helps  for  promot- 
ing tteligious  Conversation  among  Christians." 


IGTOUS  SOCIETY. 

G.  Do  not  be  angry  with  those  who* 
blame  this  society,  but  meekly  and  silently 
bear  with  them. 

7.  Do  not  in  your  heart  despise  others 
because  they  are  not  members  of  this  si- 
ciety. 

8.  Nor  show  any  valuing  of  yourselves 
because  you  are.  Never  speak  of  yourself 
as  a  member,  uidess  with  a  view  of  doing 
good  to  others. 


1.  Real  disciples  do   more  than  nominal 
professors. 

2.  I'he  Spirit  will   strengthen  and  com- 
fort you. 

3.  You  will  have  the  blessing  of  a  quiet 
conscience. 

4-.   You  are  engaged  in  the  most  honour- 
able service. 

5.  You  will  promote  tlie  interest  of  your 
Master. 

6.  He  will  acknowledge  your  labours  in 
the  day  of  his  apiieariug.   Amen.    So  be  it. 

N.B. — -Whereas  too  many  people  are 
apt  to  misrepresent  every  religious  society 
as  a  methodistical  meeting,  it  w  as  judged 
necessary  to  insert  the  follov.-ing  extract 
from  the  celebrated  Mr.  Dodd's  late  ser- 
mon. "  The  cry  of  Methodism  is  frequent- 
ly raised  by  such  as  are  totally  ignorant  ot 
the  nature  of  the  accusation  ;  and  many  are 
stigmatized  with  the  name,  who  are  perfect- 
ly innocent  of  the  thing.  The  observations 
1  have  made  may  possibly  serve  to  settle 
the  point  in  some  degree,  or  at  least  to  stop 
the  tongues  of  those  who  very  unjustly  cast 
the  aspersion,  where  there  is  not  the  least 
cause  ;  and  it  deserves,  perhaps,  to  be  con 
sidered  by  all  serious  and  sincere  Protes- 
tants, whether  the  affixing  the  charge  of 
Methodism,  &c.  &c.  indiscriminately,  upon 
men  of  unblamable  lives  and  irreproachable 
conversation,  may  not  tend  greatly  to  pre- 
judice our  holy  faith  in  general,  and  to 
bring  a  reproach  upon  Christianity  itself, 
through  the  pretended  offence  of  Metho- 
dism :  this  may  be  a  triumph  to  the  Deist 
and  Papist  equally  pleasing.  And,  if  so, 
can  we  be  too  accurate  in  our  distinctions, 
or  too  cautious  in  our  imputations  ?  Re- 
membering, that  while  we  confound  Chris- 
tianity and  Methodism,  we  are  doing  dis- 
credit to  Christianity  in  the  some  propor- 
tion as  we  are  giving  weight  and  dignity  to 
Methodism."  See  Mr.  Dodd's  excellent 
Sermon,  entitled,  Uinty  Recommended, 
preached  before  the  religious  societies  in  and 
about  London,  at  their  annual  meeting  in 
the  parish  church  of  St.  Mary-le-Bow,  on 
Easter  Monday  1759;  to  which  is  added 
an  Appentlix,  giving  an  account  of  the  ori- 
ginal   design,    general    rules,    and    present 


niN'i'S   roll  PROMOTING  RELIGION. 


'2:3 


st.'tle  of  li'iG  rflij^ious   sccictios,     A  i'arther  Rcli,(.^ious  Societies    in   jiiiil  f.ljout  London, 


; cciuiiit  of  uiiicli  nmv  I'e  r-een  in  a  liule 
pitcc  \i(oti>  ill  Q.ifcii  Ai.ne's  time,  l)y  the 
liiv.  i)i-.  Josiiiii  Wooduaid,  entitled  "An 
Aecroiint  of  the   Rise  una   Piot'iess  of  llie 


and  oftiieir  eiHle:!Voins  fertile  Reforniation 
of  I\i,i;iiier.s."  'I'iie  sixtli  edition.  In  tliis 
little  iiin-t  iha  most  considerable  objections 
against  jelijjioussiocietiesare  i'uily  answered. 


HINTS 


CONCl^.RNING  THE  MEANS  OF  PROMOTING   RELIGION  IN 
OURSELVES  AND   OTHEitS.* 


I. — Re  always  cheerful,  as  well  as  seri- 
ous, that  yon  may  win  men  to  Clnistianity. 
And  in  every conversntion  introduce  seme 
reiitjiiius  Lints,  if  it  can  be  done  with  pro- 
jiriei}. 

11. — Avoid  all  controversies;  no  good 
can  (onie  lion;  dis)uiti:ig;  but  ccjntcnd  ear- 
nestly foi'  the  essentials  of  rhristianity. 

III. — Heal  all  divisions  among  sects  and 
parties  to  the  utmost  of  your  power.  And 
prevail  with  those  who  are  most  fiery,  to 
read  Henry's  excellent  treatise  on  Meek- 
ness. 

ly. — Talk  familiarly  to  cbildren  about 
religion,  as  a  delightful  employment.  Put 
easy  questions  to  them,  encouraging  them 
octasioiudly  by  some  little  presents,  and 
thus  teaching  them  an  aimable,  cheerful, 
f;enercus  ])iety. 

^'. — Make  it  a  constant  lule  to  jnay  for 
all  who  affront  or  injure  you.  Christ  en- 
joins us  to  pray  ibr  all  who  despitefully  use 
us  ;  sec  Mattli.  v.  4-^.  Hisregaid  all  o)i]iro- 
brious  names.  Christ  bim,self  (as  will  every 
on(!  v.ho  strives  against  the  corru])t  preju- 
dices and  vices  of  mankind)  was  abused  as 
a  wine-bibber,  mid  even  a  lihis])hemer. 

VI. — lie  accustomed  to  a  rtgnlar,  daily, 
but  moderate  course  of  devout  retirement ; 
and  reconmicnd  intercission  for  others,  both 
in  the  I'amilyand  in  ])]ivatt',  as  likewise  I're- 
(juent  attendance  on  the  s:icrament. 

V 1 1.—  Frequent  public  worship  every  day 
in  the  week,  if  your  business  permit,  and  if 
you  li\c  in  a  place  where  it  is  perlbrmed. 

All  I — Secret  ejaculations,  too,  may  be 
used  as  yon  are  walking  or  riding,  or  in 
whatever  company  you  may  hapi)en  to  be  ; 
and,  on  some  jmrticular  hour,  rcmendicr  (as, 
for  instance,  at  morning,  noon,  afternoon,  or 
evening,  when  your toun-dock  strikes,  which 
will  be  a  loud  and  never-failing  memoran- 
dum) to  set  yourself  as  in  the  presence  of 
Godt  for  a  i'ew  minutes. 


ncfcrred  to  in  Mr.  Henry's  Life. 

Tins  intthoU  is  sUuDgiy  levonimemted  by  the 


IX. — Use  IVefjut^nt  meditation,  than 
which  nothing  can  be  more  ])roiital)le  :  Nor 
can  any  thing  so  much  awaken  and  dispose 
us  for  that,  ai;d  for  all  that  is  good,  as  a 
strong  faith  in  Provideisce,  and  a  constant 
eheerl'uliiess*  of  sjiirit. 

X. — Entertain  the  highest  regard  for  the 
word  of  God,  and  f'mnish  yourself  with  a 
iiiw  of  the  best  writers,  but  jjariicnlarly  with 
Henry  on  lileekness,  and  Worthington  on 
Resignation.  Study  them  thoroughly,  and 
endeavour  to  make  their  sentiments  your 
ov/n.  Sleekness  and  resignation  are  the  two 
piincipal  duties  of  a  Christian.  Disperse 
good  books  occasionally,  if  your  circum- 
stances will  jjermit ;  and  be  very  careful  in 
the  choice  of  them,  and  in  adaj;ting  them  to 
the  circumstances  of  the  person  to  whom 
they  are  given. 

Xl. — Encourage  by  your  influence,  and 
purse  too,  (if  able),  societies  for  promot- 
ing the  gospel,  both  at  home  and  in  foreign 
]>arts  ;  and,  in  order  to  be  well  acquainted 
with  these,  read  the  celebrated  Dr.  Wood- 
ward's Rise  and  Progress  of  the  Religious 
Societies  in  London  and  Westminster. 

XII — Vv'heneveryou  reprove,  let  it  be 
tenderly,  privately,  and  with  all  due  humi- 
lity. 

XIII. — For  the  reformation  of  swear- 
ing,-j-  lying,   slandering.    Sabbath-breaking, 


late  Dr.  Buller,  Bishop  of  Durham,  in  his  Charge  to 
the  Clergy,  1751. 

*  In  order  to  obtain  a  proper  confidence  in  Provi- 
dence, and  a  settled  cheerfulness  of  mind,  the  reade:, 
esjic'cially  the  gloomy  and  dispirited,  would  he  much 
assisted  by  liishop  Patrick's  Advice  to  a  Friend,  which 
is  .'i  most  inestimable  little  piece. 

M  lints  for  the  reformation  of,  or  conversation  with  a 
swearer. — 1.  None  lue  so  ij;iioiant  as  not  to  know  it 
is  a  breach  of  the  third  commandment.  2.  He  who 
lives  in  the  fear  of  Ciod  is  so  far  from  being  capable  of 
it,  that  it  shocks  him  to  hear  otliers  ofiending  this 
way.  ;!.  We  are  t.iught  by  Christ  daily  to  pray, 
"  Hallowed  be  thy  n-mie;"  Angels  praise  it,  and  de- 
vils trenible  at  it.  4.  Christ  enjoi'ns  us  to  swear  not 
at  all  :  see  IMatth.  v.  ."i-l,  and  also  James  v.  12.  5.  Give 
toa  swojirer  Dr.  Woodward's  Kind  Caution  to  Pro- 
fane Swearers,  or  the  late  Bishop  of  London's  (Dr 
(iihsor.)  Admonition  .igainst  Protano  and  Common 
bwearint;. 


"24 


PREFACE  TO  JENKS'  MEDITATIONS. 


passionate  "  or  iinchastef  persons,  you  may 
write  out  (or  keep  by  you  some  printed) 
hints  on  slips  of  paper,  against  either  of 
these  vices,  and  place  them  in  the  way  of 
such  persons,  either  by  putthig  them  into 
their  books,  windows,  or  other  places,  pro- 
vided you  do  not  care  to  give  them  to  the 
person  yourself;  or  they  may  be  sent  by  the 
postj^  from  or  to  the  metropolis- 

XIV. — Make  it  a  rule  to  have  at  least 
one  religious  sentence  in  the  letters  you 
vmte  to  your  relations  or  friends,  when  it 
can  be  conveniently  introduced  ;  as  such  a 
sentence,  properly  intei"woven,  often  strikes 
a  person,  and  is  productive  of  more  real 
good,  perhaps,  than  a  laboured  discourse 
in  the  pulpit,  or  formal  advice  at  home. 

XV" —  Guard  people,  as  much  as  in  you 
lies,  against  enthusiasm,  and  excessive  ri- 
gours, either  as  to  abstinence,  retirement,  cr 
conversation ;  and  advise  them  to  take  all 


the  comfort  that  the  situation  in  which  God 
has  placed  them  will  conveniently  admit  of; 
reminding  them  at  the  same  time,  to  acknow- 
ledge him  in  all  their  ways,  and  to  be  dis- 
creetly zealous  for  the  honour  of  Christ ; 
reposing  an  entire  confidence  in  the  wisdom, 
power,  and  goodness  of  God,  and  assuring 
themselves  of  the  extent  of  his  providence 
(of  which  we  know  not  either  the  value  or 
power)  to  all  his  creatures,  and  to  all  their 
actions. 

XVI. — But,  above  all,  write  down  the 
reasons  which  at  any  time  make  you  afraid 
to  die,  and  then  endeavour,  by  faith,  by 
prayer,  and  by  conversation  with  expe- 
rienced Christians,  to  remove  the  causes, 
and  thus  be  properly  preparing  for  death. 
And,  if  your  time  and  capacity  will  admit, 
keep  a  diary ;  particularly  note  your  sins  of 
omission,  and,  by  this  method,  you  will  see 
your  progress  or  declension  in  religion. 


PREFACE 


JENKS'  MEDITATIONS.§ 


When  I  consider  the  practice  of  recom- 
mending books,  as  implying  some  respect- 
able regard  to  a  man's  own  judgment,  lun- 
dertiike  it  with  reluctance :  But  when  I 
consider  it  as  exercising  an  act  of  friend- 
ship to  my  fellow-students  in  the  school  of 
Christ,  I  execute  it  with  pleasure. 

There  are  those,  I  am  informed,  who 
blame  me  for  commending  the  works  of 
others,  or,  which  is  much  the  same  thing, 
for  commendmg  them  with  any  degree  of 
zeal  and  affection,  since  cold  commendation 
or  faint  a])plause  is  justly  reputed  an  artful 
slight.      To  these  persons  I  shall  only  re- 


•  Hints  for  the  reformation  of  a  passionate  man. — 
1.  Causeless  and  immoderate  anger  proceeds  from  a 
proud  and  haughty  temper,  and  is  contrary  to  gospel- 
roeekness,  that  meekness  and  quietness  of  spirit  which 
St.  Peter  assures  us,  1  Peter  iii.  4,  is  of  great  price  in 
thesight  of  God.  2.  Christ  bids  us  learn  of  him  who 
was  lowly  and  meek.  Matt.  xi. !».  3.  Every  passionate 
tongue  is  set  on  tire  by  hell ;  see  James  iii.  6.  4.  He  who 
&ays  the  Lord's  Prayer  with  an  unforgiving  temper, 
curses  himself.  5.  P>Io  one  has  otfended  us  so  often  as 
we  have  offended  God,  therefore  our  anger  should  be 
against  our  own  sins,  ti  Let  all  bitterness  (says  the 
apostle),  and  wrath,  and  anger,  be  put  away.  In  pa- 
tience possess  ye  your  souls,  Luke  xxi.  19.  No  pas- 
sion in  heaven,  therefore  no  passion  in  a  heavenly 
mind.    Give  to  a  passionate  man  Henry  on  Meekness. 

i  Hints  for  the  reformation  of  an  unchaste  person. 
— 1.  Contrary  to  the  seventh  commandment  of  the 
great  God.  2  A  sin  which  defiles  the  soul,  and  brings 
It  under  the  dominion  of  the  fleshly  appetites.  No 
spiritual  life  in  such  a  one;  see  Rom.  xiii.  6.  3.  A 
partaker  of  other  i>eople's  sins,  making  them  partak- 
ers of  yours,  thus  doubly  guilty.  4.  All  adulterers, 
'ornicators,  and  imclean  peiTsons,  are  declared  to  have 
no  inheritance  in  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  seel  (or.  vi. 
it.    5.  Vou  are  a  servant  of  sin,  and  in  bondage  to 


ply,  that  if  their  own  actions  or  their  own' 
compositions  were  concerned,  I  verily  be- 
lieve they,  even  they,  would  "  forgive  me 
this  wrong,"  2  Cor.  xii.  13. 

Far  from  obtruding  myself  into  the  chair 
of  Moses,  Matt,  xxiii.  2,  far  from  presum- 
ing to  dictate,  to  prescribe,  or  so  much  as  to 
direct,  I  would  only  imitate  the  four  leprous 
men  at  tlie  entering  in  of  the  gate  of  Sama- 
ria, 2  Kings  vii.  3,  8,  9.  Having  found 
silver,  and  gold,  and  raiment,  they  could  not 
forbear  proclaiming  the  news,  and  commu- 
nicating the  spoil  to  their  fellow-citizens. 
When  I  find  a  treasure  incomparably  more 

the  deepest  corruption.  6.  If  you  sin  in  any  of  these 
ways,  you  sin  against  your  own  body,  and  pollute  the 
templeof  the  Holy  Ghost.  Beingjoined  toan  harlot, 
the  Holy  .Spirit  dwells  not  there.  7-  We  must  glorify 
God  both  in  body  and  Spirit,  presenting  ourselves  a 
living  sacrifice,  holy  and  acceptable  unto  God;  see 
Rom.  xii.  1.  8.  Purity  and  chastity  required  in  the 
gospel ;  even  impure  and  lustful  desires  are  there  con- 
deirmed;  see  Matt.  v.  28.  Give  to  an  unchaste  per- 
son Jenks"  Glorious  Victory  of  Chastity,  or  Dr.  Wood- 
ward's Exhortation  to  Chastity. 

:j:  The  following  letter  was  sent  by  the  post  to  a 
Deist,  and  had  a  very  good  effect. 

Sir, — Though  you  disbelieve  Christianity,  I  cannot 
suppose  that  you  disbelieve  a  future  state  of  rewards 
and  punishments ;  please,  therefore,  to  take  into  se- 
rious consideration,  whether  you  think  your  actions 
are  such  as  will,  upon  your  own  principles,  stand  the 
test  at  the  great  day  of  account. 

As  it  highly  becomes  us  to  do  what  good  we  can 
while  we  live  in  this  world,  and  as  I  am  truly  concern- 
ed for  you,  I  take  the  liberty  of  giving  yo.u  thisfrien^ 
ly  hint,  and  hope  you  will  receive  it  as  a  proof  tha. 
the  writer,  though  unknown,  is  your  very  sincere 
well-wisher.  A.  Z. 

§  Referred  to  in  Mr.  Hervey's  Life. 


PREFACE  TO  JENKS'  MEDITATIONS. 


725 


precious,  when  I  liiid  a  teacher  of  wisdom,  I 
and  a  guide  to  gloiy,  why  should  I  hold  my 
j)eace  ?  why  should  I  enjoy  these  benefits 
myself  alone  ?  why  should  I  not,  like  those 
honest,  though  calamitous  exiles,  tell  the 
glad  tidings  in  the  city,  and  invite  my  neigh- 
bours to  partake  of  the  blessings  ? 

These  blessings,  through  the  divine  good- 
ness, I  have  found  in  Jenks'  Mtditittions, 
which  are,  I  think,  the  most  distinguished 
among  all  his  valuable  writings.  Level  to 
an  ordinary  capacity,  yet  capable  of  enter- 
taining a  refined  taste.  Not  void  of  beauty 
and  delicacy,  yet  more  especially  adapted  to 
enlighten  the  understanding,  to  impress  the 
conscience,  and  build  up  the  soul  in  faith, 
in  holiness,  and  joy. 

The  method  in  which  our  author  proceeds 
is  to  me  peculiarly  pleasing.  First,  he  col- 
lects the  most  weighty  and  sublime  truths  ; 
he  then  forms  them  into  a  close  and  ani- 
mated address  to  the  soul ;  and  concludes 
all  with  a  short  but  fervent  supplication  to 
(iod,  which  very  much  heightens  the  ten- 
derness and  solemnity  of  the  whole.  It  is 
somewhat  like  pointing  the  arrow,  not  with 
polished  steel,  but  with  celestial  fire.  Per- 
haps the  reader  will  recollect,  on  this  occa- 
sion, the  story  of  the  angel  appearing  to 
Manoah.  When  the  sacrifice  was  laid  on 
the  rock,  and  kindled  into  a  burnt-offering, 
the  seraph  mingled  himself  with  the  sacred 
oblation,  and  ascended  to  heaven  in  the 
tlame.  Judges  xiii.  20. 

In  the  language,  we  have  a  noble  plain- 
ness, and  a  happy  perspicuity  ;  in  the  sen- 
timents, we  have  the  force  of  persuasion, 
quickened  by  the  glow  of  devotion.  If,  in 
some  few  sentences,  we  meet  with  an  obso- 
lete expression  or  inelegant  phrase,  metbinks 
it  is  only  like  a  hair  adhering  to  a  fine  suit 
of  velvet,  or  like  a  mote  dropped  upon  a 
globe  of  crystal.  I  will  not  offer  such  an 
affront  to  the  discernment  and  generosity  of 
the  reader,  as  to  suppose  him  requiring  an 
apology  for  so  small  a  blemish,  which,  when 
magnified  by  the  severest  censure,  is  no  more 
tlian  a  speck  ;  when  viewed  with  all  the  id- 
lowances  of  candour  and  benevolence,  is  a 
mere  nothing. 

The  several  Meditations  may  be  regarded 
as  so  many  striking  sermons  on  the  most  in- 
teresting subjects  of  our  holy  religion  ;  or 
rather  as  a  judicious  abridgment  of  various 
excellent  sermons  on  almost  every  branch 
of  Christianity ;  in  each  of  which  we  have 
the  spirit  and  energy  of  a  copious  discourse, 
contracted  within  the  small  compass  of  two 
or  three  i)ages.  For  which  reason  I  can- 
not but  apprehend  they  may  be  particularly 
seiviceable  in  the  family,   ax  well  as  in  the 


closet, — that  one  of  these  short  family  es- 
says, distinctly  or  repeatedly  read  amongst 
our  domestics,  may  be  mere  advantageous 
than  the  hasty  perusal  of  a  much  larger 
composition. 

There  is  scarce  any  circumstance  of  the 
Christian  life  which  solicits  the  assistance 
of  a  spiritual  physician,  but  may  be  accom- 
modated with  seasonable  and  suitable  relief 
from  this  ample  dispensatory  of  "  edification, 
exhortation,  and  comfort,"  1  Cor.  xiv.  3. 
Here  are,  if  I  may  pursue  the  medicinal  al- 
lusion, cordials  to  cheer  the  drooping,  res- 
toratives to  heal  the  backsliding,  stimula- 
tives  to  quicken  the  supine,  with  lenitives 
to  ease  the  anginsh  of  conscience,  "  and 
make  the  bones  which  sin  has  broken  to 
rejoice,"  Psalm  li.  8.  Neither  are  we  clog- 
ged with  a  tedious  multiplicity  of  remedies 
in  any  case  of  distress,  nor  wearied  with  a 
dry  detail  of  all  that  can  be  said  upon  any 
point  of  inquiry.  On  the  contrary,  the  most 
spirited  doctrines,  and  the  most  sovereign 
consolations,  are  both  skilfully  selected  and 
pertinently  applied,  with  this  well  judged 
design  of  improving  and  exhilarating  the 
mind,  without  overcharging  or  bm'dening 
the  memory. 

I  would  submit  it,  with  the  utmost  de- 
ference, to  the  consideration  of  my  younge." 
brethren  in  the  ministry,  whether  it  migh*: 
not  be  a  very  profitable  exercise  to  pursue 
the  hints,  and  enlarge  the  plan  of  these 
compendious  treatises  ;  whether,  by  digest- 
ing them  into  proper  divisions,  and  intro- 
ducing under  each  division  a  more  full  and 
circumstantial  display  of  the  subject,  we 
might  not  form  popular  and  useful  discour- 
ses for  the  pulpit.  Such  a  practice,  I  per- 
suade myself,  might  considerably  facilitate 
our  preparations  for  the  public  service, 
would  stock  our  own  minds  with  a  set  of 
the  most  important  and  affecting  truths,  and 
render  our  ministrations  more  acceptable  to 
others,  yet  in  no  respect  dishonourable  to 
ourselves  ;  as  such  a  transformation  is  very 
different  from  a  theft ;  and  the  most  likely 
way  to  commence  originals,  is  to  work  up- 
on such  exctdlent  models. 

Let  me  only  add,  that  I  know  one  per- 
son to  whom  these  books  have  been  highly 
delightful,  and  eminently  beneficial ;  have 
very  much  contributed  to  exalt  his  appre- 
hensions of  divine  grace,  and  to  establish  his 
faith  in  the  divine  Jesus.  That  they  may 
be  equally,  or  rather  more  abundantly,  bene- 
ficial and  delightful  to  the  public;,  is  the 
wish,  the  hope,  the  prayer,  of  their  obliged 
servant, 

JaiMEs  Hervky. 

Octobei-  30,  1 756. 


COLLECTION  OF  LETTEKS, 


WKITTEN 


BY  MR.  HERVEY, 

FROM  173.3  TO  1758. 


PREFACE. 


It  lias  ))eeii  already  oliscrved.  in  tlic  ac- 
count of  Mr.  Hervey's  Life  prelixed  to  this 
work,  tliat  lie  frequently  wrote  religious 
letters  to  liis  acquaintance,  according  to  their 
different  circtiinstaiices,  in  the  most  amiable 
and  convincing  manner;  and  that  he  seem- 
ed to  make  it  iilmost  an  invariable  rule  not 
to  write  a  letter,  on  any  occasion,  without 
at  least  one  j)i(jus  sentence  in  it;  and  that 
not  introduced  in  a  forced  and  awkward 
manner,  but  interwoven  so  as  to  appear  na- 
turally to  arise  from  the  suljject. 

The  reasons  for  publishing  this  collection 
of  Mr.  Hervey's  letters  were  the  strong 
solicitations  of  those  who  knew  and  valued 
the  author  and  his  writings  ;  a  desire  of 
contributing  to  the  interests  of  religion, 
which  was  the  great  scope  of  all  his  labours  ; 
and  a  jwirsuasion,  that  such  a  collection 
would  give  a  peculiar  satisfaction  to  every 
intelligent  and  pious  person  ;  especially  as, 
to  be  thus  introduced  to  partake  of  the  en- 
tertaining and  instructive  intercouvses  of  his 
friendship,  may  jjossibly  be  the  means  of 
encouraging  others  to  "  go  and  do  likewise." 
Nor  will  it  be,  it  is  presumed,  necessary  to 
bespeak  the  candour  of  the  reader,  or  de- 
precate the  petulance  of  criticism,  whatever 
defects  or  inaccuracies  may  be  found  in  a 
work  of  this  kind,  not  iTitended  for,  though 
well  worthy  of  the  ])ublic  eye. 

As  the  following  letter  to  the  editor  is  so 
truly  characteristical  of  3Ir.  Hervey,  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  it  will  not  be  altogether  un- 
acceptable to  the  reader.  'When  writers 
like  him,  of  distinguished  siqieriority,  have 
gained  our  admiration  and  a])plause,  we  are 
fond  of  penetrating  into  their  more  retired 
apartments,  and  associating  with  them  in 
the  sequestered  walks  of  private  life  ;  for 
here  these  great  geniuses  a])pear  in  an  un- 
dress, the  intrinsic  excellence  of  their  cha- 
racters shines  out  with  genuine  lustre  ;  and 
although,  as  authors,  their  talents  are  be- 
yond our  imitation,  yet  the  several  milder 
graces  and  virtues  of  their  more  common 
and  ordinary  behaviour  are  in  some  measure 
attainable  by  every  one. 

Sir, — It  was  with  no  small  satisfaction 
I  saw  an  advertisement  in  the  public  papers, 
desiring  the  correspondents  of  the  late  Mr. 
Ilervey  to  furnish  thw  editor  with  some  oi 
his  letters  for  publication  ;  and  glad  I  am  it 
js  in  my  power  to  send  you  so  huge  a  nuni 


ber.  since  in  many  of  them  will  be  found 
such  traces  of  an  upright  heart,  as  no  stran- 
ger can  otherwise  be  made  acipiainted  with. 
There  will  be  seen  the  dee])est  humility- 
Ever  unconscious  of  his  own  shining  abili- 
ties, he  was  always  desirous  of  improving 
by  the  meanest  in  the  church  :  in  lowliness 
of  mind,  he  would  prefer  others  to  himself; 
he  would  frequently  be  the  humble  querist, 
and  make  his  friend  the  respondent.  There 
will  be  seen  the  greatest  love  to  mankind  ; 
a  love  which  he  has  strongly  expressed  oa 
every  occasion,  not  only  in  words,  but  in 
the  most  important  acts  of  benevolence, 
both  tem])oral  and  spiritual.  There  will  l>e 
seen  the  most  zealous  attachments  to  truth. 
He  was  extremely  desirous  that  every  senti- 
ment of  his  should  be  strictly  examined ; 
and  wherever  he  found  any  thing  capable  of 
the  least  improvement,  he  immediately  ac- 
quiesced with  the  greatest  thankfulness.  In 
a  word,  there  will  be  seen  the  utmost  se- 
renity of  mind  under  the  pressure  of  veiy 
grievous  afflictions.  As  his  joy  was  not  of 
this  world,  no  worldly  calamities  could  take 
it  from  him  :  nothing  could  ruffle,  nothing 
could  discompose  him.  He  was  indeed, 
what  his  Master  says  of  the  Baptist,  a  burn- 
ing and  a  shining  light  ;  and  as  such  he  was 
a  guide  for  our  feet.  As  a  biu'iiing  liglit, 
he  warned  many  iiy  his  example  :  he  had 
received  the  grace  of  God  in  abundance, 
w  Inch  he  had  long  and  most  earnestly  im- 
plored ;  and  the  fruits  of  which,  in  his  lil'e 
and  conversation,  the  world  have  seen,  and 
his  friends  will  tell  with  pleasure.  As  a 
shining  light,  he  instructed  many  by  his  doc- 
trine. He  was  a  most  strenuous  assertor 
of  the  free  grace  of  God.  He  taught  men 
to  be  rich  in  guod  works,  without  ])Iacing 
the  least  dependence  on  iheiii.  Chris'.;  was 
all  to  him  ;  and  it  was  his  whole  business 
to  ))ublish  his  Redeemer's  unsearchable 
riches.  It  was  St.  Paul's  faithful  saying, 
viz.  That  "  (Jhrist  Jesus  came  into  the 
world  to  save  sinners  ;"  and  it  was  Mr. 
Hervey's  constant  einj)loyment  to  bring  sin- 
ners t<)  him  empty-handed,  "  to  buy  wme 
and  milk,  without  money  and  without  price." 
He  was  also  a  most  strenuous  assertor  of 
evangelical  holiness.  While  he  published 
the  free  grace  of  God,  he  was  solicitous 
that  none  should  abuse  it  to  licentiousness. 
Herein    al;,o  he  imitated  St.    Taul  in  an 


im 


PREFACE. 


j)t!ier  faithful  sayinrj,  viz.  Tliat  "  they  who 
believe  in  (iod,  siioiild  be  careful  to  maiu- 
taiii  Rood  works." 

Such  \vas  the  friend  I  have  lost.  God 
grunt  we  inay  all  "  be  followers  of  him  who, 
throutih  fiiith  and  patience,  now  inherits  the 
promises."  He  rests  from  his  labours,  and 
7iiy  correspondeiice  '.vitli  him  is  for  ever  at 
an  end;  but  by  the  letters  I  here  sei'.d,  he 
xvill,  though  dead,  yet  speak, and  spread  wide 
that  valuable  instruction,  and  those  ingen- 
ious remarks,  which  were  originally  design- 
ed only  for  the  private  inspection  of,  sir, 
yonr  hurnhL"  servant,  &c.  &c. 

P.  S. — Air.  Kcrvey's  zeal  for  his  great 
Master,  and  iiis  eminent  abilities  to  advance 
the  interests  of  religion,  will,  it  is  hoped, 
secure  the  good  ojiinion  of  the  community 
in  behalf  of  the  ])ublication  of  his  piivate 
letters  and  life  ;  especially  when  it  is  con- 
sidered, that  it  was  in  some  measure  neces- 
sary to  be  done ;  not  only  as  they  exhibit 
in  their  purport,  composition,  and  various 
tendencies,  a  striking,  amiable,  and  true 
picture  of  the  ingenuity,  learning,  candour, 
and  piety  of  this  excellent  man,  but  as  his 
character  has  been  injured  by  some  through 
misrepresentation,  and  as  his  writings  have 
been  censured  by  others  through  misappre- 
hension :  all  such  vt'ill  nov;  see  how  far  Mr. 
llervey  is  deserving  of  blame  or  of  applause, 
since  there  is  nothing  that  expresses  a  man's 
purticular  character  more  fully  tbiui  his  let- 
ters to  intimate  friends. 

In  this  edition,  care  has  been  taken  to 
arrange  the  letters  in  the  same  order  in 
which  they  were  wrote,  as  fai-  as  was  prac- 
ticable. But  there  is  no  possibility  of  doing 
it  exactly,  for  this  plain  reason,  that  in  many 
letters  written  to  those  with  whom  he  kept 
a  frequent  correspondence,  Mr.  Hervtywas 
accustomed  to  express  neither  month  nor 
year,  but  only  to  write  Monday  morning, 
Tuesday  night,  &c.,  and  that  several  letters 
were  transmitted  to  the  editor,  with  the 
dates  as  well  as  names  erased. 

There  are  a  few  things  inserted  in  this 
collection,    such  as  the   cottager's   letter,* 

Mr.   Boyse's,t  the  letter  to  Dr.  T ,| 

which  were  introduced,  not  only  for  the 
great  propriety  of  such  an  introduction,  but 
at  the  particular  desire  of  some  of  Mr.  Her- 
vey's  friends,  in  order  to  fulfil  his  inten- 
tions, and  render  him,  though  dead,  as  ex- 
tensively useful  as  possible. 

"  I  would  by  all  means,"  says  one  of  his 
most  judicious  and  favourite  correspond- 
ents, "  have  that  letter  of  mine,  addressed 

to  Dr.  T ,   printed  in  the  collection  ; 

as  I  think  this  may  in  some  measure  be 
fiiltilling  the  will  oi'  my  deceased   friend, 


who  appears,  by  his  own*  letter  to  rne,  to 
have  judged  something  of  that  nature  highly 
necessary ;  and  he  would  certainly  have  at- 
tempted it  himself,  as  he  declared,  had  not 
a  certain  church  preferment  brought  him 
very  miexpectedly  into  a  connexion,  which 
made  sucha  publication  at  that  juncture  in- 
eligible. Mr.  Hervey  is  now  d«Kl,  and 
that  reason  is  no  longer  in  force ;  and,  there- 
fore, nov/  seems  to  me  the  fittest  time  for 
such  purpose.      I  wrote  that  letter  to  Dr. 

T at  Mr.  Hervey's  express  desire  ;  and 

I  gave  hiiii  full  ]X)wer  to  make  what  use  of 
it  he  pleased,  hoping  that,  after  correcting 
it  to  his  mind,  he  would  h.r.e  sesit  it  to  E)r. 

T bin! self,  or  else  that  he  woidd  have 

wrote  in  another  form  (perhaps  in  an  intro- 
duction to  his  Fast  Sermons)  something  far 
more  valuable,  extracting  from  my  letter 
what  best  answered  his  ends.  But  that  not 
being  done,  the  publication  of  my  letter  in 
this  collection,  immediately  after  what  Mr. 

Hervey  says  in  his  to  me  about  Dr.  T 's 

seiTnon,  rnay,  v,-ith  the  same  divine  blessing, 
be  of  use  ;  and,  thoii.gh  of  little  worth,  yet, 
like  the  wdow's  mite,  when  it  was  her  all, 
it  may  be  acceptable.  There  are  thousands 
of  i)reachers  who  think  in   the  same  way 

with  Dr.  T ,  and  very  likely  many  of 

these  may  be  the  readers  of  ISh.  Hervey's 
letters  ;  and  if  some  of  them  reilect  and  re- 
form, the  unjust  anger  of  the  rest  is  very 
little  to  be  regarded.  Therefore,  upon  the 
most  serious  consideration,  it  is  my  earnest 

request,  that  the  letter  to  Dr.  T- should 

be  printed  just  as  I  sent  it  to  Mr.  Her- 
vey. "f 

It  must  be  acknowledged,  that  some  of 
his  first  letters,  written  from  college  when 
he  was  not  more  than  twenty  years  of  age, 
either  speak  a  language  different  from  free 
grace,  for  which  we  find  he  was  afterwards 
so  powerful  an  advocate,  or  at  least  they 
treat  very  confusedly  of  it ;  and  perhaps 
some  may  say.  Why  then  were  they  print- 
ed? For  these  two  plain  reasons — That 
the  reader  may  see  and  know  what  early 
and  strong  impressions  he  had  of  piety — 
what  love  to  God,  and  to  his  fellow-crea- 
tures. Though  v/e  say  not,  that,  like  John 
Baptist,  he  was  sanctified  from  his  mother's 
womb,  yet  his  early  labours  for  his  Saviour, 
when  too  many  others  of  his  age  ar.d  stand- 
ing were  captivated  by  their  passions,  and 
sv.allowed  up  by  their  lusts,  prove  to  a  de- 
monstration the  docirine  he  afterwards 
taught,  viz.  the  power  of  redeeming  love  : 
they  show  how  early  the  seeds  of  grace 
were  sown  in  his  h.eart ;  and  when  they 
look  forward,  they  may  observe  from  what 
small  sparks  of  light  and  grace  the   Holy 


i.dtci-i;;!. 


\  .\»Ui-x.id  to  Idler  ItlC. 


i  l.fitcr  ir)7. 

\  It  is  so  iiiintetl  as  here  acsiicil.    Sec  Letter  i:,3. 


PREFACK 


7ni 


Spirit  l!;i(l  gradiiiilly  t:iiif:lit  l.im,  Isaiah  liv. 
1.'3.  .JoLii  vi.  -l-j.  and  led  liiiu,  iis  it  were  by 
tlie  h:U(\,  into  the  full  av.d  holy  liberty  of 
the  cliililren  of  God.  V'licii  but  twenty- 
one  yi ;'.rs  of  ;iu:k,  wc  tiiid  him  aiViiid  of 
a:id  flyiii;-'  from  or-use,  when  others  would 
be  cuiirting  it :  for,  hav-iiig  wrote  some  ver- 
ges to  a  reh'.tioii,  w]ii<'h  were  gve.-itly  coiii- 
nu'iided,  he  heartily  wishes*  he  never  had 
wroro  a  line  of  i)oetj-y  in  his  life  ;  and  he 
wrote  upon  jsnother  oeciision,!  expressly 
Miiniing  a  friend  for  praising  liini ;  and 
again}  be  says,  "  You  have  jjaid  me  an 
oTnigiiig  eo«ipliniei!t ;  beg  of  the  blessed 
("ed,  desu'  sir,  tiiat  I  may  not  he  puffed  up 
vi  !i!i  vain  conceit  of  myself  or  my  writ- 
ings." 

From  the  rending  of  these  familiar  let- 
ters, wliich  is  in  a  manner  hsrening  to  and 
hearing  the  thouglits  of  the  writer,  we  may 
learn,  that  by  iuiture  "  his  heart  was  as  hard 
as  the  lliiit,  and  !-.is  hands  tenacious  even  to 
i.variee  ;"  these  are  his  words.  ^  Yet  (see 
the  power  of  t'iat  I'reo  cracc,  which  living 
and  dying  he  adored)  he  became  a  bright 
tx:iniple  of  universal  charity,  jj 

His  great  l)U!nility  and  diiiidence  of  his 
own  judgment  and  iearni;ig  appear  in  many 
of  his  h  tters  :  in  one,  v.hich  is  far  from 
being  contemptible  either  for  style  or  argu- 
ment, he  enjoirss  his  friend  to  return  his  let- 
ter immediately  to  him,  th;!t  it  ir:ig!it  never 
appear  ;  yet  his  friend  got  the  better  of  tliat 
modesty,  aiul  obtained  leave  to  keep  it ;  to 
which  is  owing  the  publication  of  that  now, 
\\  liich  -Mr.  Ilervey,  at  the  tiiiie  of  writing 
it,  desired  might  never  see  th.e  light.^ 

Another  instance,  and  a  striking  one,  we 
may  meet  with.  Letter  do,  where,  answer- 
ing the  objections  of  a  lady  to  the  mirach; 
which  (Hirist  wrought  at  the  marriage  of 
('ana  in  Galilee,  he  s:iys,  "  I  have  neither 
strength  of  mind,  nor  solidity  of  judgment, 
Kulhcient  to  conduct  the  procedure  of  an  ar- 
gument," &e. 

As  the  love  of  God  was  shed  abroad  in 
his  heart,  it  produced  an  ardent  desire  to 
jn-omote  the  cause  of  Christ  Jesus  and  of  his 
religion.  And  when  he  fomid  himself 
bowed  down  with  tiie  spirit  of  weakness  and 
infirmity,  he  was  ajit  to  fear  lest  he  should 
disgrace  the  gospel  in  his  languishing  mo- 
ments ;'*  he  earnestly  prayed  to  God, 
and  desired  others  to  luiitc  in  the  same  pe- 
tition, that  he  might  not  thus  disiionour  the 
cause  of  Christ.  And  his  and  their  pray- 
ers were  heard  ;  for,  notwithstanding  his 
lingering  weakness  and  depressed  spirits, 
which  at  length  gave  him  up  into  the  hands 
of  death,  yet  he  triumphed  over  his  fears, 
he  tiiumphed  over  the  grand  tempter  and 
adversary  of  souls. 


•  Letters, 
t;  Letter  ."•3. 
II  Ltttcr  i-l. 


t  Lcftcr.W.  :!;  Letter  tat. 

Sec  Iiio  Life,  ami  Letter  51,  W,  fn: 

f  *  Letter  GO. 


Ijis  willingness  to  have  liis  writings  cor- 
rected by  every  judiciotis   friend,   and    his 
thankfulness  in  receiving  their  criticisms, 
appear  throughout  all  his  h-tters  written  to 
his  learned  correspondents  ; — a  specimen  of 
it  you  may  see  in  Lett.  61,  101,  181.     His 
earnest  desire  to  prefer  ids  friend's  opinion 
to  his  o\^ni,  or,  in  other  words,  his  humble 
0[)inion  of  his  own  judgment  and  powers  in 
argiunentation,  makes  him  ever  rerpiesting, 
"  Pray  use  freely  the  prtmlng  hook,"  ^:c. 
It  may  seem  a  wonder,   therefore,   that  he 
sliould     ever,      under    these    discouraging 
thoughts  of  iiimself,  write  at  all,  especially 
so  much  as  he  has  done  ;  coiisidering  he  was 
no  more  than  live-and-forty  when  he  died, 
and  that  the  first  of  his  works  was  publish- 
ed when  he  was  thirty-three.      Perhaps  tlie 
reader  might  be  almost  tem]ited  to  suspect 
tiiat  his  humility  was  affected,  and  that  pride 
lurked  under  that  fair  garment ;  but  hypo- 
crisy dwelt  not  in  him  ;  he  wrote  imder  all 
that  weakness,  and  under  all    those    fears, 
because  he  dared  not  be  silent :     The  cause 
of  God  and  truth  was   publicly  attacked  ; 
the  catise  of  his  Master  was  opposed  ;  and 
iie,  as  a  faithful  watchman,  was  compelled, 
however  weak  in  body,  however  unequal  he 
thought  himself  to  the  task,  he  was  compel- 
led to  cry  aloud,  and  sp;ire  not ;  and  there- 
fore he  wrote,  not  from  pride  or  from  ava- 
rice, but  from   conscience  and  a   sense  of 
duty  ;  and  this  the   intelligent  and  candid 
reader  will  easily  perceive  from  many  of  his 
letters. 

At  a  time  when  infidelity  and  depravity 
prevailed,  and  when  it  has  become  almost 
fashionable  to  slander  and  speak  evil  of  per- 
sons, depreciating  another's  reputation,  in 
order  to  raise  and  establish  our  own,  we 
find  Mr.  Plervey  making  it  a  rule  to  single 
out  the  best  things  he  had  heard  of  his 
neighbour,  and  careftilly  avoiding  even  to 
hint  any  thing  which  might  be  the  cause  of 
propagating  a  rumour*  to  his  detriment,  or 
to  disclose  a  secret  which  might  be  injurious 
to  him :  thus  careful  was  he  to  carry  into 
his  omi  practice  the  doctrine  he  taught,  the 
religion  he  professed  ;  and  thus  far  was  he 
from  espousing  either  the  principles  or  prac- 
tices of  Antinomians.  Some  of  his  pre- 
tended friends  of  that  stamp,  as  well  as  his 
adversaries,  have  taken  much  pains  to  make 
tlie  world  believe  that  he  in  all  things  agreed 
with  them,  that,  if  possible,  they  might  be 
thought  not  to  differ  from  him  ;  but  they 
will  find  it  as  imjjracticable  to  raise  their 
reputation  upon  his,  iis  it  will  be  to  reduce 
his  character  to  ii  level  with  their  own,  so 
long  as  Ids  works  shall  live  to  proclaim  his 
principles,  and  a  friend  shall  remain  to  de- 
clare his  truly  Christian  practices,  his  holy 
life  and  conversation. 


732 


PREFACE. 


It  cannot  but  Ve  obsen-cd,  that  Mr.  Her- 
vey,  in  two  of  his  letters,*  has  repeated  the 
same  argaiment,  in  pretty  near  the  same 
words  ;  and  perhaps  this  repetition  may  dis- 
gust the  delicate  and  curious  reader,  especi- 
ally as  it  returns  so  soon  as  within  the  com- 
pass of  thirty  pages  ;  but  it  is  to  be  consid- 
ered that  they  were  written  at  different 
times,  the  one  to  a  clergjTnan  at  Bath,  in 
1743,  and  the  other,  for  the  satisfaction  of 
a  lady,  five  years  afterwards ;  and  as  the 
objections  were  the  same  from  both,  Mr. 
Hervey  had  a  right  to  return  each  of  them 
the  same  answer. 

I  must  once  more  trespass  on  my  read- 
er's patience,  as  I  cannot  conclude  without 
expressing  my  hopes  that  every  person  of 


•  Letter  17,  and  53. 


candour  and  judgincnt  will  make  the  neces- 
sary allowances  for  those  difTerent  states 
both  of  body  and  mind,  which  one  of  Mr. 
Harvey's  weak  constitution  must  have  un- 
dergone in  the  space  of  fiveand-twenty 
years,  during  which  these  letters  were  wrote. 
A  manifest  inequality  of  judgment,  of  accu- 
racy, and  of  style,  in  fi-juiliar  letters  wrote 
at  such  distances,  with  more  or  less  attention 
and  care,  according  to  the  variety  of  circum- 
stances which  occur,  and  without  the  least 
thought  of  their  publication,  will  appear ; 
nor  can  it  be  otherwise  expected  indued  from 
any  one.  Some  of  the  greatest  geniuses  of 
the  age,  such  as  Pope  and  Swift,  have  made 
their  apology  in  the  same  case ;  and  no  one,  I 
am  sm'e,  is  more  justly  entitled  to  the  indul- 
gence of  the  public,  than  he  whose  letters 
aa-e  here  collected. 


LETTERS 

OF  THE 

REV.  MR.  JAMES  HERVEY. 


LETTER  I. 

Lincoln  College,  Oron.  .Sept.  16,  1733. 
Df.ar  Sister, — Was  there  any  occasion  to 
apologize  for  the  serious  purport  of  this,  it 
would  be  sufficient  to  direct  you  to  the  date, 
and  the  time  of  its  inditing ;  but  I  promise 
myself  that  to  you  any  thing  of  this  nature 
will  be  unnecessary.  For  though  we  are  in 
the  very  prime  and  spring  of  our  years, 
strongly  disposed  to  admire,  and  perfectly 
capacitated  to  relish  the  g;iieties  of  youth, 
yet  we  have  been  inured  to  moderate  the 
warmth  of  our  appetites,  accustomed  to  an- 
ticipate in  our  minds  the  days  of  darkness, 
and  incessantly  disciplined  into  a  remem- 
brance of  our  Creator.  For  my  part,  I 
find  no  se-dson  so  proper  to  address  one  of 
the  principal  sharers  of  my  heart,  one  of  my 
nearest  and  dearest  relations,  as  that  I  Lave 
at  present  chose  and  made  use  of,  when 
either  an  universal  silence  composes  the 
soul,  and  calms  every  turbulent  emotion,  or 
the  voice  of  joy  and  gladness,  speaking 
through  celestial  music,  invites  to  adore  the 
wonders  of  our  Redeemer's  love,  touches 
upon  the  strings  of  the  softest  passions,  and 
ins])ires  the  most  sweet,  most  tender  senti- 
ments. 

As  I  was  the  other  day  traversing  the 
fields  in  quest  of  health,  I  observed  the 
meads  to  have  lost  that  profusion  of  fra- 
grant odours  which  once  perfumed  the  air 
— to  be  disrobed  of  that  rich  variety  of  cu- 
rious dyes  which  surpassed  even  Solomon 
in  all  his  glory.  Not  a  single  flower  ap- 
pears to  gladden  the  sight,  to  bespangle  the 
ground,  or  enamel  the  barren  landsca])e. 
The  clouds  that  ere  long  distilled  in  dews  of 
honey,  or  poured  themselves  forth  in  showers 
of  fatness,  now  combine  in  torrents  to  over- 
flow the  lifeless  earth,  to  bury  or  sweep 
away  all  the  faint  footsteps  of  ancient  beiuity. 
The  hills  that  were  crowned  with  corn,  the 
valleys  that  laughed  and  sung  under  loads 
of  golden  grain  ;  in  a  word,  the  whole  face 
of  nature,  that  so  lately  rejoiced  for  the 
abundance  of  her  plenty,  is  become  bare, 
naked,  and  disconsolate.  As  I  was  con- 
tinuing my  walk,  and  musing  on  this  joyless 
scene,  methought  the  sudden  change  exhib- 
ited  a  lively  picture  of  our  frail  and  transi  ■ 


tory  state ;  methought  every  object  that 
occurred  seemed  silently  to  forewarn  me  of 
my  own  future  condition. 

I  dwelt  on  these  considerations  till  they 
fermented  in  my  fancy,  and  worked  them- 
selves out  in  such  like  expressions :  "  What ! 
must  we  undergo  so  grievous  an  alteration  ? 
we,  whose  sprightly  blood  circulates  in 
briskest  tides  ?  we,  who  are  the  favourites 
of  time,  on  whom  youth,  and  health,  and 
strength,  shed  their  selectest  influence  ?  we, 
who  are  so  apt  to  look  upon  ourselves  as 
exempt  from  cares,  or  pains,  or  troubles, 
and  privileged  to  diink  in  the  sweets  of  life 
without  restraint,  without  alloy  ?  Must  we 
forego  the  sunshine  of  our  enjoyments  fov 
anything  resembling  this  melancholy  gloom  ? 
Must  the  sparkling  eye  set  in  haggard  dim- 
ness ?  the  lovely  features  and  glowing 
cheeks  be  obscured  by  pale  deformity  ? 
Must  soft  and  gay  desires  be  banished  from 
our  breasts,  or  mirth  and  jollity  from  our 
conversation  ?  Must  the  vigour  of  our  age 
fall  away  like  water  that  runneth  apace,  and 
the  blissful  minutes  of  the  prime  of  our 
years  vanish  like  a  dream  ?  If  this  be  our 
case,  in  vain,  sure,  do  we  boast  of  our  su- 
perior felicity,  in  vain  do  we  glory  in  being 
the  darlings  of  Heaven.  The  inanimate 
creation  droop  indeed,  sicken  and  languish 
for  a  time,  but  quickly  revive,  rejoice,  and 
again  shine  forth  in  their  brightest  lustre  : 
It  is  true  they  relinquish,  at  the  approach 
of  winter,  their  verdant  honours,  but  rest 
fully  assured  of  receiving  them  with  interest 
from  the  succeeding  spring.  But  man,  when 
he  has  passed  the  autumn  of  his  maturity, 
when  he  has  once  resigned  himself  into  the 
cold  embraces  of  age,  bids  a  long,  an  eter- 
nal adieu  to  all  that  is  entertaining,  amiable, 
or  endearing  ;  no  pleasing  expectations  re- 
fresh his  mind  ;  not  the  least  dawnings  of 
hope  glimmer  in  to  qualify  the  darksome 
looking-for  of  death." 

I  had  not  long  indulged  these  bitter  re- 
flections before  I  espied  a  remedy  for  those 
sore  evils  which  occasioned  them.  Though 
I  perceived  all  our  passionate  delights  to  be 
vanity,  and  the  issue  of  them  vexation  of 
spirit,  yet  I  saw  likewise  that  virtue  was 
substantial,  and  her  fruits  joy  and  peace ; 
that  though  all  things  came  to  an  end,  the 


734 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


viiys  of  wisilom  were  exceeding  broad. 
'iiio  seeds  <>('  })i(  ty,  if  inijdaiitcd  in 
our  tender  Lreasts,  duly  rlierislicd,  and 
constantly  eultivated,  will  bud  and  blos- 
som even  in  the  winter  of  our  days  ;  and 
when  white  and  red  sli.dl  be  no  more,  when 
all  tlie  outward  embellishments  of  our  little 
fabric  .shall  disappear,  this  will  still  flourish 
in  immortal  bloom.  To  walk  humbly  with 
our  God,  dutifully  with  our  parents,  and 
charitably  with  all,  will  be  an  inexlmustible 
source  of  never-ceasing  comforts.  What 
though  we  shall  sometimes  be  unable  to 
hear  the  voice  of  singing  men  and  singing 
women  ;  though  all  the  senses  prove  false  to 
iheir  trust,  and  refuse  to  be  any  longer  inlets 
of  pleasure,  it  is  now,  dear  sister,  it  is  now 
in  our  power  to  make  such  happy  provisions 
as  even  then,  in  those  forlorn  circumstances, 
may  charm  our  memories  with  ravishing  re- 
collections, and  regale  all  our  faculties  with 
the  continual  feast  of  an  applauding  con- 
science. What  sweet  eomi)laceney,  what 
unspeakable  satisfaction  shall  we  reap  from 
the  contemplations  of  an  uninteniipted  se- 
ries of  spotless  actions  :  Ko  present  un- 
easiness will  pi'ompt  us  impatiently  to  wish 
for  dissolution,  nor  anxious  fears  for  futu- 
rity make  us  immoderately  dread  the  im- 
pending stroke;  all  will  he  calm,  easy,  and 
serene  ;  all  will  be  soothed  by  this  precious, 
this  invaluable  thought,  that,  by  reason  of 
the  meekness,  the  innocence,  the  purity,  and 
other  Christian  graces  which  adorned  the 
several  stages  of  our  progress  through  the 
world,  our  names  and  our  ashes  v/ill  be  em- 
J).;ln!ed,  tlie  chansbers  of  our  tomb  cense-- 
crated  into  a  paradise  of  rest,  and  our  souls, 
v.-hite  as  our  locks,  by  an  easy  transition, 
become  a;igels  of  light.  I  am,  v.ith  love  to 
my  brother,  dear  sister,  your  most  affec- 
tionate brother. 


LETTER  IL 

LlncGh.  College,  Oxon.  March '2%  1734. 
Dear  Sister, — It  is  now  a  considerable 
time  since  I  enjoyed  the  true  and  real  plea- 
sure of  your  company.  I  say  tme  and  real, 
because  my  fancy  has  often  took  its  flight 
to  Hardingston,  and  delighted  itself  with 
the  imagjiary  conversation  of  you  and  my 
other  dear  relations.  I  have  frequently 
recollected,  and,  as  it  were,  acted  over  again 
iu  my  mind,  the  many  ])leasing  hours  we 
have  spent  together  in  reading  holy  and 
edifying  books,  or  discoursing  on  pious  and 
useful  subjects.  And  methinks  I  should 
have  been  exceeding  glad  to  have  had  the 
satisfaction  yet  more  improved,  by  re- 
ceiving a  letter  from  you ;  wliieh,  I  am 
sure,  would  have  been  full  of  tlie  most  ten- 
der endearments  of  love  aiid  aflrction,  and, 
I  hope,  would  not  ha\e  wanted  expressions 


of  true  religion  and  virtue  ;  and  could  I  l)ut 
once  see  that — could  I  but  observe  our- 
selves not  o)ily  dwelling  tog'ether  in  unity, 
but  travelling  hand  m  hand  tov.-ards  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem,  mutually  encouraging 
and  ass;sti)!g  one  another  to  light  the  good 
light,  to  lay  hold  on  eternal  life — then 
should  I  greatly  rejoice,  then  should  I  begin 
to  live. 

I  hope  I  may  now  congratulate  your  per- 
fect recoveiy ;  however,  lam  certain  there 
is  great  reason  for  eoiigratulation,  on  ac- 
count of  your  being  so  choice  a  favourite  of 
Heaven,  as  your  fieqiient  sicknesses,  and 
often  infirmities,  speak  you  to  be.  Our 
gracious  Father,  though  an  indulgent  lover 
of  all  mankind,  seems  to  watch  over  you 
with  n-iore  than  ordinary  care  and  conccn?, 
to  be  extremely  desirous,  nay,  even  sclirit- 
ous,  for  your  salvation-  How  does  liis 
goodness  endeavour,  by  the  repeated,  thongh 
lightest  strokes  of  his  rod,  to  cure  whatever 
is  disordered,  to  rectify  v.hatever  is  amiss 
in  you  !  How  studiously  does  he  seek,  by 
laying  you  on  a  siek-bed,  to  make  you  sec 
yourself,  and  all  things  else,  in  a  true  and 
proper  light  ;  to  point  out  to  you  your 
frailties  and  follies,  your  darling  lusts,  and 
the  sins  that  do  most  easily  beset  you ;  to 
convince  you  that  you  are  only  a  sojourner 
here  upon  earth,  your  body  a  j)oor  frail  and 
eoriuptible  house  of  clay,  your  soul  a  bright, 
glorious,  and  immortal  being,  that  is 
hastening  to  the  fmition  of  God,  and  to 
mansions  of  eternal  rest;  to  discover  to  you 
the  vanity,  meanness,  and  contemptible 
littleness  of  this  worid  ;  and  the  worth,  the 
imj)ortance,  and  amazii;g  greatness  of  the 
nextj  Do  not  then  hold  cut  against  these 
kind  calls  to  repentance  and  amendment ; 
do  not  resist  such  earnest  importunities, 
such  sweet  solicitations  ;  but  suflfer  your- 
self, by  this  loving  coireetion,  to  be  made 
great — great  in  humility,  holiness,  and  hap- 
piness. Humble  yourself  under  the  mighty 
hand  of  God,  and,  by  a  hearty  sorrow  for 
your  past  feiults,  and  a  firm  resolution  of 
obedience  for  tlie  future,  let  this  fatherly 
chastisement  bring  forth  in  you  the  peace- 
able fruits  of  righteousness.  Oh  !  let  us 
dread,  let  us  tnnnble,  to  reject  any  longer 
the  tenders  of  grace,  lest  we  awake  at  length 
his  justice,  and  drav/  down  vengeance  upon 
ourselves ;  lest  onr  visitation  be  not  in  love 
and  with  kindness,  but  in  heavy  displea- 
sure, and  v>-ith  fury  poured  out ;  lest  his 
next  dispensation  be  not  a  merciful  severity, 
hut  indignation  and  wrath,  tribulation  and 
anguish. 

Sure  I  cannot  but  admire  that  adorable 
wisdom,  which  has  coi.trived  all  things  so 
evidently  and  so  directly  to  your  advantage  I 
Your  late  illness  has,  I  doubt  not,  begot 
in  you  serious  thoughts  and  holy  dis])osi- 
tions ;  and  tliese,   I  fl^itter  myself,  will  be 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


735 


nouriHbed  by  llie  reception  of  the  blessed 
sacrament  tlie  followitif!;  Easter.  Let  us, 
dear  sister,  break  off  our  siiis  by  repent- 
ance; let  us  amend  our  lives  and  begin, 
from  this  very  instant,  to  deny  all  ungodii- 
iiess  and  worldly  lusts,  and  live  soberly, 
righteousl)-,  and  godly  in  tlie  present  world. 
So  shail  we  answer  tlie  good  ends  of  our 
sickness  ;  so  shall  we  Ikj  meet  partakers  of 
those  holy  mysteries  hero,  and  enjoy  an  in- 
heritance amongst  the  saints  in  light  here- 
after. And  now  I  cannot  hut  acquaint  you 
Iiow  earnestly  I  wished  that  you  and  others 
of  my  neighbours  (with  whom  I  have  dis- 
coursed upon  this  subject)  were  giving  de- 
vout attendance  to  the  prayers  and  praises 
tliat  were  offered  up  hist  Slouday  in  your 
cluu'ch  ;  as  likewise  how  I  should  rejoice, 
with  exceeding  great  joy,  to  hear  that  both 
j'ou  and  they  coistiuue  steadfust,  or  rather 
abound  more  and  more,  in  tlie  practice  of 
this  and  such  other  religious  duties.  And 
if  you  think  the  desire  of  ray  heart,  and  the 
longings  of  my  soul,  are  of  any  weight  with 
sniy  of  them,  pray  let  them  know  hov,'  I 
hope,  desire,  and  pray,  that  we  inp.y  be  wor- 
thy communicants,  by  an  immediate  for- 
saking of  all  wicked  ways,  and  a  thorough 
amendment,  as  well  as  an  unshaken  resolu- 
ticn,  to  persevere  and  advance  in  that  a- 
inendment. 

Jly  kind  respects  to  all  that  you  shall 
show  or  read  this  letter  to  ;  desire  them  not 

to  forget  me  in  their  prayers ;  let  

and  know   that  I  o{Uin    think  of 

them,  and  hope  they  sometimes  remember 
me,  and  the  words  that  I  have  often  spoke 
to  them.     I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  III. 

Lincoln  Collerje,  Oxon.  May%  1734. 
Dear  Sister, — Finding  myself  in  a 
writing  humour,  and  remembeiing  that  1 
had  formerly  promised  you  an  entertaining 
present,  and  being  sensible  of  the  decency 
of  introducing  it  with  an  epistle  ;  upon  these 
accounts  I  again  set  pen  to  paper,  and  ad- 
dress you,  notwithstanding  you  have  so  very 
lately  received  a  letter  from  me.  By  fui 
usefully  entertaining  present,  I  mean  sucli 
a  one  as  will  ir.iprove  and  edify,  at  tiie 
same  time  that  it  diverts  and  delights  ;  as 
will  not  only  make  you  easy  to  yourself, 
and  agreeable  to  others,  but  also  good,  and 
holy,  and  wise  unto  sidvation.  Now,  I 
scarce  know  any  human  composition  more 
likely  to  promote  these  excellent  jiuqjoses 
than  this  poem  on  the  last  day.*  For,  be- 
ing in  verse,  and  set  olF  with  all  the  graces 
of  speech   and  thought,  it  cannot   liiil  of 


*  By  Dv.  VoiDig 


charming  as  well  the  nice  ear  Sis  the  sound 
judgment.  And  as  for  the  subject,  sure  no- 
thing can  be  more  prodigiously  pleasing 
tiian  to  read  of  that  happy  time  wiiich  shall 
be  the  beginning  of  a  blissful  eternity  ;  v.-hen 
our  Redeemer,  by  his  mighty  power,  shiJl 
change  our  vile  bodies,  that  they  may  be 
like  unto  his  glorious  body,  and  tnmslate 
lis  from  a  state  of  corruption  in  the  grave, 
to  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of 
our  Father.  And  every  one  must  ov,-n, 
that  the  most  engaging  persuasions  to  piety 
and  holiness  of  conversation  are  drawn 
from  the  recompense  of  a  future  invaluable 
reward ;  and  that  the  most  sovereign  pi-e- 
servative  against  all  ungodliness  and  world- 
ly lusts,  is  the  terrors,  the  insupportable 
tenors  of  the  Lord.  If,  therefore,  you 
would  jilease  yourself,  refine  your  taste,  or 
have  tlie  practice  of  religion  pleasing,  in- 
stead of  plays,  ballads,  and  other  corrupt 
writings,  read  this  almost  divine  piece  of 
poetry ;  read  it  (as  I  have  done)  over  and 
over  ;  think  upon  it,  endeavour  to  digest  it 
thoroughly,  and  even  to  get  by  heart  the 
most  moving  passages ;  and  then,  I  trust, 
you  will  find  it  answer  the  ends  I  pui-pose 
in  sending  it. 

You  will  excuse  me  from  exercising  my 
poetical  talent,  since  there  are  already  tu'o 
copies  of  recommendatory  versos,  and  be- 
cause I  perceive  such  an  attempt  will  be 
either  very  absurd,  or  veiy  dangerous.  For 
should  I  tack  together  a  few  doggerel 
rhymes,  this  would  be  an  affront  to  you ; 
whercr.s,  should  I  succeed  so  well  as  to 
gain  the  applause  of  my  readers,  this,  I  am 
sure,  would  portend  very  great  harm,  if  not 
to  you,  yet  most  certainly  to  ine.  For 
what  can  portend  greater  harm  than  the 
words  of  praise,  which,  though  smoother 
than  oil,  yet  be  they  very  swords?  What 
can  be  more  destructive  of  that  humble 
mind  which  was  in  Christ  Jesus,  that  meek 
and  lowly  spirit  which  is  in  the  sight  of 
God  of  great  price  ?  I  am  so  far  from  car- 
rying on  my  versifying  designs,  that  I  heart- 
ily wish  I  had  never  conceived  any ;  that 
those  lines  I  sent  to  my  cousin,  had  either 
never  been  made,  or  that  I  had  never  heard 
them  commended.  Pride  and  vanity  are 
foolish  and  unreasonable  in  dust  and  ashes, 
and,  which  is  worse,  odious  and  detestalile 
before  infinite  perfection  and  infinite  jiower. 
Oh  !  let  you  and  me  then  dread  wliatever 
may  administer  fuel  to  these  worst  of  tem- 
pers, more  than  the  poison  of  asps,  or  the 
pestilence  that  walketh  in  darkness.  Let 
us  pray  against  seeking,  desiring,  or  taking 
pleasure  in  the  honour  that  cometh  of  men. 
And  if  at  any  time  the  flattering  tongue, 
that  snare  of  death,  shall  overtake  us,  let 
us  instantly  tly  unto  our  Saviour,  and  com- 
plain unto  our  God ;  then  let  us  remember, 
and  remembering,  let  us  acknowledge,  that 


73S 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


we  are  nothinp;,  and  have  nothinj^,  and  do- 
serve  nothinj):,  but  shame  and  coiiteini)t,  but 
misery  and  punishment. 

I  hope  you  was  so  happy  as  to  receive 
the  holy  sacrament  this  Easter  ;  and  I  beg 
of  you  to  be  so  wise  as  well  to  understand 
and  often  to  consider  what  you  then  did. 
We  gave  up  ourselves,  our  souls  and  bodies, 
to  be  a  reasonable,  holy,  and  lively  sacrifice 
to  God  ;  so  that  we  must  look  upon  our- 
selves as  having  now  no  longer  any  right  or 
title  to  ourselves,  but  as  our  heaveidy  mas- 
ter's sole  ])roperty  ;  we  may  not  follow  our 
own,  but  must  do  his  will  in  all  things. 
AVe  undertook  to  lead  a  new  life,  to  follow 
the  commandments  of  God,  and  to  walk 
henceforth  in  all  his  holy  ways ;  and  this, 
and  whatever  else  we  promised  at  that  sa- 
cred altar,  we  must  endeavour  to  per- 
form, if  we  hope  to  enter  into  heaven.  Let, 
therefore,  no  day  pass  without  reflect- 
ing on  the  solemn  cngagemetit  we  have 
made,  and  without  examining  whether  we 
liave  acted  up  to  it.  Let  us  not  imagine 
that  we  did  the  whole  of  our  duty,  when 
we  took  the  consecrated  elements  into  our 
mouths  ;  but  be  convmced,  that  we  only,  as 
it  were,  listed  ourselves  afresh  under  our 
Captain's  baimer,  and  that  the  service,  the 
tight  against  his  and  our  enemies,  is  to  be 
liourly  renewed,  and  constantly  maintained, 
even  unto  death.      I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  IV. 

Oxon.  March  11,  17.35. 
Df.au  Sisteu, — Yesterday  the  Judge 
came  hither,  and  to-day  the  assizes  begin. 
I  shall  go  to  hear  the  assize  sermon  pre- 
sently. This  cannot  but  put  us  in  mind  of 
that  great  account  we  must  all  give  before 
the  judgment-seat  of  Christ.  How  melan- 
choly a  sight  is  it  to  see  a  poor  criminal  go 
up  to  the  bar  !  All  he  has  is  no  longer  his 
own ;  his  very  life  is  in  the  power  of  the 
magistrate,  and  he  is  in  great  danger  of  a 
speedy  death.  And  if  this  be  so  dreadful, 
how  infinitely  more  dreadful  will  it  be  to 
appear  before  a  more  strict  and  awful  tri- 
bunal !  The  good  Lord  grant,  that  you  and 
I  may  not  be  cast  in  that  tremendous  trial ! 
A  trial  that  will  be  undergone  before  an- 
gels and  God ;  upon  the  issue  of  which 
our  eternal  life  will  depend.  Was  I  to  wish 
a  wish  for  the  dearest  friend  in  the  world, 
it  should  not  be  for  gold,  or  jewels,  or  ap- 
parel ;  these  things  are  fading,  and  the  fa- 
shion of  them  passeth  away  ;  but  it  should 
be  for  a  favourable  sentence  in  that  last 
and  great  day.  Will  not  the  archangel 
shortly  sound  the  trump?  Will  not  all  the 
dead  come  forth  of  their  graves,   and  the 


Ancient  of  Days  sit?  How  valuable  then- 
will  an  humble  and  holy  life  be  !  If  you  anil 
I  be  found  with  the  wedding-garment  on, 
we  shall  doubtless  enter  into  the  joy  of  our 
Lord,  never  to  die,  never  to  grieve,  ii-ever 
to  be  parted  more.  But  if  we  should  either 
of  us  be  negligent  in  this  matter ;  if  we 
should  be  surprised  without  oil  in  our 
lamps.  Oh  tbe  fearfulness  and  trembling 
that  will  come  upon  us  !  the  horrible  dread 
that  will  overwhelm  us  !  to  think  that  we 
nnist  be  for  ever  shut  out  of  heaven,  ba- 
nished eternally  from  the  presence  of  (tod, 
the  society  of  saints,  and  the  fulness  of  joy  ! 
If  you  or  I  were  to  be  torn  from  our  kind- 
red, and  our  father's  house,  and  hurried 
away  captive  into  a  foreign  country,  there 
to  be  chained  to  the  galleys,  or  condemned 
to  the  mines  :  how  would  this  grieve  both 
us  and  our  dear  relations ;  how  would  it 
pierce  our  souls  as  a  sword  !  If  this  be  sad, 
(as  certainly  it  is),  alas !  what  will  it  be  to 
be  everlastingly  separated  by  the  imi)assahle 
gulf?  for  one  to  be  caught  up  to  heaven, 
and  there  to  be  ever  with  the  Lord  ;  and  for 
the  other  to  be  thrust  down  into  torments, 
and  dwell  with  wailing  and  gnashing  of 
teeth  ?  Dear  sister,  let  us  consider  this,  and 
give  all  diligence  to  make  oui-  calling  and 
election  sure ;  that  when  the  changes  and 
chances  of  this  mortal  life  are  over,  we 
may  meet  and  live  together  in  glory  ever- 
lasting. Which  is,  and  shall  be,  the  hearty 
prayer  of  your,  &c. 


LETTER  V. 

Dummer,  May  7,  17.37. 

Good  Madam, — Pray  be  pleased  to 
cast  your  eye  to  the  bottom,  and  observe 
who  it  is  that  desires  to  bespeak  you.  It 
is  one  who  knows  himself  to  have  been 
guilty  of  the  most  slighting  behaviour,  and 
to  have  deserved,  in  return,  your  greatest 
disdain.  If,  after  you  perceive  his  name 
to  be  Hervey — that  Hervey  who  was  so 
lately  and  so  long  in  London,  without  ever 
waiting  upon  Mrs.  ;  without  pay- 
ing his  respects  to  her  who  merits  so  much 
the  esteem  of  every  Christian;  without 
any  thimkful  acknowledgment  for  her  kind 
wishes  so  often  conceived,  and  her  prevail- 
iufT  prayers  so  often  put  up  in  his  behalf; 
if,  madam,  after  you  are  informed  of  all 
thi-i,  you  can  bear  to  give  the  remainder  of 
the  paper  a  favourable  reading,  I  shidl  not 
only  account  myself  highly  obliged  to  your 
good  nature,  but  when  I  have  an  occasion 
to  put  up  with  an  affront,  and  to  exercise 
forgiveness,  I  will  think  upon  it  as  a  pat- 
tern. 

On  Sunday   I  was  called  out  by  Prori- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


737 


(U'ncf  fmm  my  own  flor-k,  to  pivacli  at  two 
ktniti.i,'e  cIiuitIics.  They  lay  at  ii  coiisidcr- 
n)Ac  (li.-stanco  from  each  othiT.  and  fVoiii 
Dmiiiner;  so  that  in  past,iiig  to  tbem,  and 
rcpaiiiiiir  again  to  my  own  ])arisli,  I  travcl- 
U  d  a  good  many  miles.  All  the  way  I  went 
along,  I  was  eiitel'tained  in  the  finest  mati- 
ner  imaginable  ;  far  more  finely  than  mine, 
or,  I  may  ventin'e  to  say,  than  any  words 
can  descrii»e.  I  wish  I  had  the  glowing 
rjolours,  the  arcm'ate  pencil,  and  the  master- 
ly genius  of  some  fnst-rate  ])aiiiter,  that  I 
might  dr.iw  out,  with  as  little  injustice  as 
^xissihle,  the  lovely  landscape,  and  make  a 
jii'i'sent  ill  some  degree  worthy  of  yoiir  ac- 
eej)tar.ce. 

The  air  was  in  its  best  temperament,  nei- 
ther so  hot  as  to  enfeeble  or  dispirit,  nor  so 
c(>ld  as  to  cause  any  uneasy  chillness.  It 
was  lit  to  recommend  and  set  off  the  most 
agreeable  objects,  and  to  be  the  vehicle  of 
perfumes,  not  much  inferior  to  myrrh,  aloes, 
and  cassia.  I  was  in  com])any  with  a  gen- 
tleman of  a  clear  understanding,  and  a  toler- 
able share  of  reading  ;  he  had  seen  much  of 
the  world,  and  had  a  very  deep  piercing  in- 
sight into  things;  he  could  talk  judiciously 
upon  most  topics,  and  would  sometimes  be- 
stow hints  upon  religious  ones.  So  that, 
when  I  was  disposed  for  conversation,  I 
could  have  immediate  recourse  to  one  that 
would  refine  my  tnste,  and  improve  my 
judgment,  if  not  minister  grace  to  my  heart. 
The  face  of  the  skies  also  conspired  to  ren- 
der every  ])ros])ect  completely  pleasant ;  it 
\\as  decked  and  diversified  with  silver-like 
clouds  ;  not  such  as  were  charged  with  heavy 
rains,  but  such  as  prevented  the  annoyance 
of  one  continual  glare,  and  changed  the  sun- 
shine frequently  for  a  welcome  shade  ;  such 
as  served  for  a  foil  to  the  unsullied  ethe- 
real blue.  'J'hus  did  (lod  order  all  circum- 
stances, so  a.-,  to  render  our  ride  exceeding- 
ly delightful. 

Ai  our  first  setting  out,  we  went  over 
strong  giound,  where  no  seed  was  sown,  and 
so  no  fruit  could  grow.  Its  nselessness  was 
not  owing  to  any  defect  in  point  of  fertility, 
but  to  a  want  of  being  manured.  Is  not 
this  the  case  of  many  immortal  souls,  who 
are  born  with  blessed  dispositions,  and  bid 
fair  for  becoming  eminent  saints,  but  are 
lost  and  spoiled  for  want  of  care  and  in- 
struction ?  O  for  faithful  shepherds  to  seek 
them,  for  industrious  husbandmen  to  culti- 
vate them  !  Send,  Lord,  a  plenty  of  such  to 
work  in  thy  vineyard,  and  to  watch  over 
thy  sheep  !  This  coarse  begimnng,  though 
it  had  no  form  nor  comeliness  in  itself,  yet 
tended  to  give  an  additional  verdure  to  the 
succeeding  scenes.  So  liie  ifottomless  pit, 
and  the  unquenchable  fire,  though  infmite 
ly  formidable,  will  create  in  the  elect  a  more 
ta-fi  fill  relish  and  enjoyment  of  their  hea- 
vnil\-  fchcifv.      We  made  more  haste  than 


ordinary  to  get  awriy  from  this  barren  spot. 
For  why  should  any  one  tarry  in  such  a 
place,  or  fie(|ueiit  such  acquaintance,  where 
all  that  occurs  is  vain  and  un|irofitable  ' 
where  nothing  truly  beneficial  can  either  be 
imparted  or  acquired?  The  sooner  we  are 
delivered  from  such  a  situation,  the  better ; 
no  de])arture  can  be  abrupt,  no  flight  pi'eci- 
pitat^:>. 

When  we  were  advanced  a  little  farther, 
we  entered  ujion  a  large  enclosure.  Here 
were  all  the  footste])s  of  a  commendable 
and  successful  industrj-.  'J'he  wheat  was 
in  the  blade,  and  sprang  up  with  a  plen- 
teou.s  increase,  and  in  goodly  array.  It  was 
not  choked  with  weeds,  nor  embarrassed 
with  thistles,  but,  like  a  clean  and  even 
mantle,  covered  the  ])lain  ;  a  present  credit, 
and.  likely  to  be  a  future  comfort  to  its  own- 
er. This  suggested  to  me  the  value  of  a 
diligent  hand — that  portion  which  it  is  in 
every  one's  power  to  bequeath  to  himself. 
I  All  the  iiiTaks  of  the  slothful  are  like  the 
mountains  of  Gilboa,  on  which  theie  was 
no  dew,  neither  rain,  nor  fields  of  offerings. 
But  where  there  is  ])iudence  and  discretion 
to  contrive,  and  a  steady  fervour  to  execute, 
there  whatsoever  is  undertaken  will,  in  all 
probability,  prosper.  By  a  sjjirit  of  ma- 
nagement, even  the  wilderness  may  be 
brought  to  bud  and  blossom  as  a  rose ; 
and  was  there  such  a  sjjirit  in  the  profes- 
sors of  religion,  it  would  prom))t  them  to 
be,  like  Dorcas,  full  of  good  works  ;  or  like 
the  great  apostle,  contimially  aspiring  after 
fresh  and  higher  measures  of  perfection. 
We  should  be  frugal  of  our  time,  careful  of 
all  our  talents,  and  most  laudably  covetous 
of  every  grain  of  nnprovemcnt  in  piety. 

We  held  on  our  course,  admiring  still 
as  we  went  the  teeming  earth,  the  infant 
corn,  and  the  pregnant  promises  of  a  prodi- 
gious harvest.  This  led  me  to  muse  uiion 
one  of  the  most  distinguishing  doctrines  of 
Christianity,  J  mean  the  general  resurrec- 
tion. It  convinced  me  how  perfectly  pos- 
sible it  is  with  (Jod  to  raise  the  dead ;  it 
gave  me  also  a  glimpse  of  that  perfection  of 
beauty  to  which  the  bodies  of  the  just  shall 
rise,  for  a  little  while  ago  I  beheld,  and 
lo  !  the  whole  vegetable  world  was  naked 
and  bare,  without  any  ornaments,  or  so 
much  as  one  amiable  feature,  like  some 
withered,  wrinkkd,  deformed  hag.  But 
now,  howcharmingly  it  appears,  and  smiles, 
and  shines  !  No  virgin  is  more  gay  and 
blooming,  no  bride  is  b.tter  arrayed,  oi" 
more  sparkling.  And  if  (iod  so  enlivens 
and  clothes  the  giavss  of  the  earth,  and  the 
tenants  of  the  field,  how  much  more  shall 
he  quicken  and  ennoble  our  mortal  bodies, 
which,  we  hope,  are  the  temjiles  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  ?  Sever.d  of  our  dcru-  friends 
we  have  accompanied  to  the  grave  ;  wt  saw, 
with     weeping  pves,   their   pour   l)ones    dc- 


738 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


posited  in  the  dust.  But  henceforth  let  us 
«1ry  up  our  sorrows ;  they  are  not  to  perish, 
hut  to  be  purified  in  those  gloomy  cham- 
bers. The  hour  is  coming,  when  the  Lord 
himself  shall  descend  from  heaven,  with  the 
voice  of  the  archangel,  and  the  trump  of 
God.  Then  shall  they  hear  the  almighty 
summons,  and  spring  from  their  confine- 
ment, "  like  to  a  roe,  or  to  a  young  hart 
upon  the  mountains  of  spices,"  Song  viii. 
14.  Then  will  they  look  forth  from  their 
dark  abodes  as  the  morning,  '•  fair  as  the 
moon,  clear  as  the  sun,"  Song  vi.  10;  ne- 
ver more  to  return  to  corruption,  but  to 
flourish  in  immortal  vigour  and  youth. 
This  is  a  pleasing  meditation,  and  deserves 
to  be  indulged ;  but  at  this  time  it  must 
give  place  to  others. 

Our  next  remove  was  to  a  lane,  set  on 
either  side  with  lofty  trees  and  humble 
shrubs.  Here  the  prospect  was  contracted, 
and  we  had  nothing  left  to  contemplate  but 
our  branching  and  leafy  mound.  The  lit- 
tle boughs  clad  with  a  cheering  green  were 
refreshing  to  the  eyes ;  audit  was  curious 
to  observe  how  every  different  plant  was 
decked  with  a  different  livery.  Here  the 
twigs  were  gemmed  with  buds  just  ready 
to  open  and  unfold  ;  there  they  were  alrea- 
dy opened  into  blossoms,  and  garnished  the 
pointed  thorns  ;  so  that  they  were  very  de- 
licate to  look  upon,  though  dangerous  to 
touch.  O  the  adorable  efficacy  of  the  di- 
vine voice  !  how  powerfully  and  how  last- 
ingly it  operates  !  God  said  once,  "  Let 
the  earth  bring  forth  ;"  he  spake  not  twice, 
and  yet  how^  punctually  does  nature  obey 
this  single  command  !  Several  thousand 
years  are  gone  about,  nor  is  its  force  eva- 
cuated, impaired,  or  at  all  diminished.  It 
endureth  in  full  authority  to  this  day,  and 
is  still  a  most  binding  law  to  all  the  mater- 
ial world.  O  that  men  would  lay  this  to 
heart,  and  learn  a  lesson  of  obedience  from 
the  inanimate  creation !  All  other  things 
continue  according  to  their  Maker's  ordi- 
nance ;  and  shall  man  be  the  only  rebel  in 
the  kingdom  of  nature  ?  shall  man  alone 
make  the  word  of  Omnipotence  to  be  of 
none  effect? 

While  our  sight  was  regaled  in  this  man- 
ner, a  set  of  chiming  bells  saluted  our  ears 
with  a  solemn  and  serene  harmony.  It  had 
110  great  diversity  of  stops,  nor  artful  mix- 
ture of  notes  ;  but  sure  it  was  most  glad- 
dening music,  and  spoke  a  heavenly  mean- 
ing. It  was  calculated  to  inspire  such  a 
joy  as  the  royal  Psalmist  felt,  when  he 
heard  the  acceptable  invitation  of  going  up 
to  the  house  of  the  Lord.  On  a  sudden, 
when  we  were  least  apprehensive  of  it,  the 
wind  wheeled  about,  and  bore  away  the 
silver  sounds.  But  it  was  only  to  bring 
them  back  again  as  unexpectedly,  with  the 
fresh  pleasure  of  a  grateful  surprise.      Here 


I  thought  of  the  sweet  influences  of  grace, 
and  wished  for  that  happy  time  when  the 
visits  of  the  blessed  Spirit  will  be  uninter- 
rupted. 

Quickly  the  lawns  and  plains  disappear- 
ed again ;  we  dived  into  a  wood.  Num- 
bers of  sprightly  birds,  hopping  and  singing 
among  the  branches,  solaced  us  as  we  pass- 
ed. We  thanked  the  pretty  songsters,  and 
bid  them  go  on  to  supply  our  lack  of 
praise.  But  what  most  of  all  affected  us, 
being  altogether  new,  was  the  warbling  of 
the  nightingale.  What  a  tuneful  throat  has 
that  charming  creature  !  atul  what  an  un- 
wearied use  does  she  make  of  it !  I  myself 
heard  her  melody  in  the  day-time,  and  I 
am  told  in  the  night-season  she  also  takes 
no  rest.  How  sovereign  and  undeserved 
is  the  goodness  of  the  Lord  to  the  children 
of  men  !  The  pipe  of  this  wakeful  choris- 
ter, though  now  so  incessant  in  thanksgiving, 
must  soon  be  sealed  up  in  endless  silence ; 
while  the  mouth  of  dull  and  ungrateful  mor- 
tals will  be  filled  with  everlasting  anthems. 
The  air  was  impregnated  with  sweets  ;  and, 
without  money  or  without  price,  we 
breathed  in  such  a  delicious  fragrance,  as 
far  excelled  "  the  powders  of  the  mer- 
chant," Song  iii.  6.  This  put  me  in  mind 
of  some  beautiful  lines  of  the  great  Mil- 
ton : 

Now  gentle  gales, 

Fawning  their  odoriferous  wings,  dispense 
Native  ))erfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
Those  balmy  spoils. 

The  other  recalled  to  my  memory 
part  of  a  divine  description,  vastly  super- 
ior to  Milton's  ;  "  Lo,  the  winter  is  past, 
the  rain  is  over  and  gone.  The  flowers 
appear  on  the  earth,  the  time  of  the  sing- 
ing of  birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the 
turtle  is  heard  in  our  land,"  Song  ii.  11, 
12. 

Two  of  our  senses  being  so  exquisitely 
gratified,  we  were  in  no  haste  to  leave  the 
place,  though  it  was  narrow,  and  afforded 
no  other  prospect  but  the  shining  canopy 
over  our  heads.  But  as  soon  as  we  were 
emerged  from  this  sylvan  path,  what  won- 
ders presented  themselves  to  our  view!  I 
think  1  was  scarce  ever  more  agreeably 
startled  in  my  life.  We  stood  upon  the 
brow  of  a  hill,  and  underneath  were  tracts 
of  level  ground  of  an  immense  circumfer- 
ence. The  labouring  eye  could  hardly  dis- 
cern its  utmost  bounds.  The  whole  scene 
being  parcelled  out  among  a  variety  of  til- 
lers, and  producing  variety  of  fruits,  was  like 
a  noble  piece  of  chequer  work.  The  nearer 
parts,  and  those  distinctly  discernible,  were 
replenished  with  rural  riches.  The  folds 
were  full  of  sheep,  and  of  lambs,  frisking  by 
the  side  of  their  fleecy  dams.  The  valleys 
stood  so  thick  with  corn,  that  they  even 
laguhed  and    sung.       One  spot   was  not 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


r.1!) 


piofiisioii  of  flowers,  as  the  root'  of  the  tem- 
ple \\fi<  with  g;olfl ;  iiiiother  was  ms  it  were 
eiiHinellcd,  hke  nn  emhroldered  rarpet,  witli 
H  w(-ll  proportioned  distribution  ;  some  of 
I'leni  yellow  as  oraiiiros,  some  white  as 
snow,  some  tinirod  with  a  border  as  red  as 
blo'xi.  The  towns  and  vinHj;es,  interspers- 
ed liere  arid  there,  looked  like  the  tiny  tents 
of   the    f.d)Ied    fairies.     Ninnheiless    oiher 


liad  not  then  leisiu-e  to  examine  them, 
iieitlier  have  I  now  room  to  relate  them. 
<)  thiit  tliese,  and  all  the  charms  of  the  de- 
lifrliti'iil  seii'on,  iray  had  up  every  specta- 
tor's thoughts  to  the  inimitable  glories  of 
lieaven  !  And  while  the  eye  f<^asrs  nj)on 
tliem,  let  every  tongne  acknowledge,  to  the 
lioiioiir  of  the  all-creating  God, 

Tiipso  are  thy  glorioiis  works,  Paront  of  good  ! 

Almighty  !  tnine  this  iinivcr'^al  frame, 

Thus  wondrous  fair  :  Thyself  how  wonilroua  then  ! 


S])rii;klrd,  but  seemed  to  he  overlaid  with  R    ciples,  or  is  a  stranger   to  those  practices. 

But  if  he  be  quite  contrary  to  all  these,  a 
despiser  of  ikni  and  goodness,  wholly  de- 
voted to  carnal  pleasure  and  worldlv  gain  ; 
if  he  not  only  omit  the  religions  care  and 
oversight  of  his  household,  but  also  set  them 
a  wicked  and  corrupt  example  ;  let  nothing 
induce  you  to  enter  into  his  service.  A 
leu'd,  drinking,  swearing,  cheating  mastei', 
will  he  sure   to   disregard   the  sobriety  and 

beauties  glanced  upon  my  sight  :   but  as  I  j  purity  of  your  behaviour,  and  very  likely  to 

corrupt  it.  To  have  his  disorderly  carriage 
daily  before  ycnir  eyes,  u'ill  be  as  dangerous 
as  to  lodge  in  a  plague-house.  Therefore, 
let  no  consideration  of  profit  or  advantage, 
or  of  any  other  sort,  prevail  with  you  to 
become  an  apprentice  to  such  a  one.  If 
you  do,  depend  on  it,  you  Iireathe  tainted 
air,  and  iiis  much  but  you  catch  the  deadly 
infection.  After  you  are  bound  to  a  mas- 
ter, you  must  be  as  diligent  in  doing  your 
dury  to  him,  as  you  should  he  of  examining 
into  his  character  before  you  are  bound. 
As  I  have  given  you  my  advice  concerning 
the  latter  of  these  particulars,  I  fancy  yon 
will  not  take  it  amiss  if  I  give  you  some 
directions  concerning  the  former.  As  roo?i 
as  you  are  boimd,  yon  are  at  your  master's, 
and  not  at  your  own  disposal  ;  he  has  then 
a  right  to  your  hands,  your  strength,  and  ail 
that  you  can  do.  He  becomes  a  sort  of 
parent  to  you  ;  and  though  not  a  natural, 
yet  a  civil  fa'.her.  Y(m  are  also  obliged, 
not  only  by  the  laws  of  your  country,  and 
the  tenor  of  your  indentures,  but  by  the 
fifth  commandment  of  God,  to  pay  him  all 
due  submission  and  honour.  To  do  this, 
is  a  most  material  part  of  yoin-  duty  as  a 
Christian,  as  well  as  your  undeniable  debt 
as  an  a[)j>ienticp.  It  is  required  of  you  by 
God  in  holy  Scripture,  and  you  must  not 
once  imagine  that  you  do  what  is  pleasing 
to  him,  unless  you  conscientiously  perform 
if.  Now,  that  ynu  may  know  what  it  is 
that  your  master  will  expect  from  you,  and 
what  it  is  that  the  Lord  has  enjoined  you 
with  regard  to  him,  rcmendier  it  consists, 
first.  In  reverence  of  his  person  ;  secondly. 
In  obedience  to  bis  commands  ;  and  thirdly, 
In  faithfulness  in  his  business. 

rirst.  In  reverence  of  his  jierson.  Y<.;i 
must  esteem  him  very  highly  for  his  super- 
iority's sake,  anfl  the  resemblance  he  bears 
to  God.    For  God  who  made  you,  and  has 

ther  he  be  a  lover  of  good  "people,  a  careful  ;  an  uncontrollable  power  over  you,  hascom- 


LETTER  VL 

Dummer.  Junc'il,  17.07. 
Dear  Erothkiv, — I  find  you  are  at  Lon- 
don looking  out  for  a  trade  and  a  master  to 
.set  yoiirself  to.  I  hoi)e  you  pray  eanieslly 
to  God  to  guide  you  iti  your  choice  by  his 
infmite  wisdom.  He  only  knows  what 
kind  of  employ  will  be  best  for  you  ;  in 
what  family  or  neighbourhood  you  will  have 
the  most  helps  and  encouragements  to  holi- 
ness ;  where  you  will  be  most  exposed  to 
teiriptations,  to  evil  company,  and  to  an 
early  corruption.  Therefore,  remember 
what  you  have  learned  in  the  third  cb.ipter 
of  Proverbs,  and  now,  above  all  other  times, 
put  in  practice:  '*  In  all  thy  ways  acknow- 
ledge him,  and  he  shall  direct  thy  paths." 
I'esecch  the  all-wise  God  to  go  before  you 
in  this  weighty  undertaking,  and  to  lead 
you  to  stich  a  master,  and  to  settle  you 
in  such  a  place,  where  you  may,  the  most 
advantageously,  work  out  your  sidvation. 
Desire  also  your  honoured  mother,  and 
mine,  to  have  a  great  regard  to  your  sold, 
and  the  things  that  make  for  its  welfare,  in 
putting  you  out.  Let  st  be  inquired,  not 
only  whethi-r  such  a  tradesman  be  a  man  of 
substance  and  credit,  but  whether  he  be 
also  a  man  of  religion  and  godliness  ?  w^he 


frequenter  of  the  church  ?  whether  his-  chil- 
dren be  well  nurtured  and  educated  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord  ?  whether  family  prayer  be 
daily  offered  up  in  his  house?  whether  he 
believes  that  the  souls  <jf  his  servants  are 
committi  d  to  his  trust,  and  that  he  will  be 
Riiswerablc  for  the  neglect  of  them  at  the 
jiidi'ment-seut  ?  It  will  be  sadly  hazsirdous 
to  venture  yourself  undcn-  the  roof  of  any 
jii-ri-un  ^vhu  is  not  fiu-iiished  with  these  prin- 


municated  some  of  that  power  to  yoiu' mas- 
ter ;  so  that  you  are  to  look  ujion  him  as 
the  representative,  in  some  sort,  of  the  di- 
vine Majesty,  ai^d  invested  with  some  of 
his  authoi'ity.  Accordingly  St.  Paul  says, 
1  Tim.  vi.  1,  You  must  count  bin)  worthy 
of  ah  honour  ;  all,  i.  e.  internal  and  external, 
that  of  the  actions  and  words,  <is  well  as 
that  of  the  heart.  It  is  not  enough  to 
maintain  a  worthy  estimation  inwardly,  but 


740 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


you  must  let  it  appear  on  all  occasions 
outwardly,  by  behaving  yourself  very 
obligingly  to  him  before  his  face,  and  by 
speaking  very  respectfully  of  him  behind 
his  back.  Suppose  you  should  discern 
failings  and  infirmities  in  him,  you  must  by 
no  means  divulge  them,  or  make  yourself 
merry  with  them,  much  less  must  you  dare 
to  set  light  by  any  of  his  orders.  Whatever 
you  have  reason  to  think  v/\\\  grieve  or  dis- 
please him,  will  be  prejudicial  or  offensive 
to  him,  that  you  must  cautiously  forbear. 

Secondly,  Obedience  to  his  commands. 
See  how  fully  the  apostle  speaks  to  this 
purpose,  Col.  iii.  22.  "  Servants,  obey  in 
all  things  your  masters  according  to  the 
flesh."  Observe  likewise,  from  this  pas- 
sage, not  only  the  necessity,  but  also  the 
compass  and  latitude  of  your  obedience, 
how  large  and  extensive  it  is.  It  reaches 
not  barely  to  a  few,  but  to  all  and  every 
instance..  If  you  should  receive  orders  that 
are  ever  so  much  against  the  grain  of  your 
Qvvn  inclination,  you  must  force  yourself  to 
comply  with  them  ;  receive  them  as  you 
used  to  do  nauseous  physic ;  though  they 
may  be  unpleasant  at  first,  they  will  do  you 
good,  and  be  comfortable  to  you  afterwards; 
your  own  pleasure  must  always  stoop,  and 
give  way  to  your  master's,  if  he  sets  you 
such  a  task  as  is  mean  and  ignoble,  and 
such  as  (according  to  the  expression  of  the 
world)  is  beneath  a  gentleman's  son,  do  not 
scruple  it,  dear  brother,  but  despatch  it 
cheerfully.  Remember  who  hath  said.  Ser- 
vants, obey  your  masters  in  all  things. 
And  oh  !  remember,  that  be  as  well  born 
and  bred  as  we  will,  yet  he  that  was  higher 
than  the  highest  of  us  all,  even  the  most 
excellent  and  illustrious  person  that  ever 
lived,  condescended  to  the  lowest  and  (such 
as  our  fine  folks  would  account  the)  shame- 
fullest  oHices  :  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
though  the  brightness  of  his  Father's  glory, 
disdained  not  to  wash  his  disciples'  feet. 
Neither  be  dejected  because  you  are  treat- 
ed in  an  unworthy  manner,  or  set  to  do 
some  mean  and  low  office  for  him  or  his 
family  ;  but  rejoice  rather  in  that  you  are 
made  like  unto  your  Redeemer,  and  in  the 
happy  prospect  you  will  have  of  becoming 
great  in  heaven,  by  being  so  little  on  earth. 
I  am  aware  this  piece  of  advice  is  not  so 
unexceptionable  as  the  rest ;  it  may  possi- 
bly be  adjudged  the  mark  of  too  yielding 
and  sneaking  a  spirit ;  but  never  forget,  that 
the  things  which  are  most  highly  esteemed 
by  God,  are  held  in  least  repute  by  men. 
I  know,  and  am  sure,  that  if  any  apprentice 
would  make  such  a  compliance  for  the  sake 
of  preserving  peace,  and  out  of  conscience 
to  the  command  of  God,  and  with  an  eye 
to  the  exain])le  of  Christ,  there  is  a  day 
coming  when  he  will  not  repent  of  it ;  when 
it  will  not  be  deemed  a   blot  to  his  charac- 


ter, but  be  an  ornament  of  grace  to  his 
head,  and  more  comely  than  chains  about 
his  neck,  Prov.  i.  9.  Well,  you  see  your 
obedience  must  be  universal  ;  you  must 
come  when  he  calls  you,  and  go  where  he 
bids  you ;  do  all  that  he  commands  you, 
and  let  alone  all  that  he  forbids  you.  This 
must  moreover  be  done  not  grudgingly,  or 
of  necessity,  but  readily  and  gladly  ;  For 
hear  what  the  Scripture  saith.  Whatsoever 
ye  do,  do  it  heartily.  Col.  iii.  23  ;  and 
again,  M^ith  good-will  doing  service,  Eph. 
vi.  7  ;  so  that  we  must  not  creep,  but  be 
quick  and  exj>editious  in  our  business,  how- 
soever disagreeable.  You  must  not  go 
about  it  with  grumbling  word..,  and  mutter- 
ing in  your  mouth,  but  with  so  satisfied  an 
air  as  may  show  that  you  are  pleased  with 
whatever  pleases  your  master. 

Thirdly,  In  faithfulness  in  his  business. 
This  is  the  last  branch  of  your  duty  to  your 
master;  and  since  3.Ioses  has  obtained  an 
honourable  testimony  on  this  account,  be 
you  also  faithful  in  all  his  house,  Heb.  iii. 
5.  You  may  find  this,  as  indeed  all  the 
qualifications  of  a  good  servant,  described 
by  St.  Paul,  Tit.  ii.  10.  Not  purloining, 
says  he,  but  shewing  all  fidelity.  You  are 
charged  not  to  purloin,  i.  e.  not  to  keep 
back  from  your  master,  not  to  put  into  yoiu' 
own  pocket,  nor  convert  to  your  own  use, 
any  of  that  money  which,  in  the  way  of 
trade,  passes  through  your  hands.  You 
were  taught  from  your  childhood  to  keep 
your  hands  from  picking  and  stealing,  and  I 
hope  you  abhor  such  abominable  practices 
from  the  bottom  of  your  heart.  You  must 
not  sell  at  a  cheaper,  and  buy  at  a  dearer 
rate,  in  order  to  have  some  valuable  consi- 
deration made  you  piivily  in  your  own  per- 
son. These  differ  from  robbing  on  the 
highway  (they  are  flagrant  acts  of  dishon- 
esty, and  will  cry  to  heaven  for  vengeance) 
only  in  being  less  open  and  notorious. 
Such  tricks  and  villanous  devices  do  the 
same  thing  by  craft  and  treachery,  as  house- 
breakers do  by  force  and  violence.  There- 
fore, dear  brother,  renounce,  detest,  and  fly 
from  them  as  much  as  from  fire,  arrows, 
and  death.  Besides,  you  are  not  only  to 
abstain  from  such  clandestine  knavery,  but 
also  to  shew  all  good  fidelity.  What  is 
meant  by  this  you  may  understand  by  read- 
ing how  Joseph  conducted  himself  in  Poti- 
phar's  service.  Your  master,  it  is  likely, 
will  commit  the  management  of  some  of  his 
affairs  to  you  ;  and  you  must  endeavour,  by 
a  discreet  behaviour,  and  a  pious  life,  to 
bring  the  blessing  of  the  Lord  upon  all  that 
you  lake  in  hand.  You  must  lay  out  your 
time  and  your  labour,  and  give  ail  diligence 
to  answer  the  trust  reposed  in  you.  You 
jnuNt  not  delay  the  business  which  is  urgent, 
nor  do  your  work  by  halves,  nor  transfer 
that  to  others  which  is  expected  you  should 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


74.1 


flo  yourself.  The  slothful  man,  says  Solo- 
mon, is  brother  to  him  that  is  a  great  was- 
ter; therefore  you  must  avoid  idleness,  and 
carelessness.  In  a  word,  you  must  do  no- 
thing knowingly  and  wilfully  that  is  likely 
to  impoverish  your  master,  but  seek  by  all 
■■awful  and  laudable  means  to  increase  his 
substance.  All  this  you  must  observe,  not 
only  when  he  st;mds  by  you,  and  inspects 
you,  but  when  his  back  is  turned,  and  you 
are  removed  from  his  view  ;  otherwise  your 
service  is  nothing  but  eye-service,  such  as 
will  prove  odious  to  man,  and  is  already 
condemned  by  God.  For  if  you  appear  to 
{)e  industrious,  and  in  earnest,  before  your 
master,  but  to  loiter  and  trifle  when  out  of 
his  sight,  you  will  be  chargeable  with  hy- 
pocrisy; a  sin  extremely  hateful  to  Christ, 
and  giievously  pernicious  to  the  soul.  But 
I  am  afraid  I  tire  you ;  this  one  sentence, 
therefore,  and  I  have  done.  You  must 
carry  yourself,  throughout  the  whole  course 
of  your  apprenticeship,  so  respectfully,  so 
obediently,  so  faithfully,  that  at  the  end  of 
it  you  may  truly  say  with  Jacob,  with  all 
my  power  I  have  served  your  father.  I 
had  more  to  write,  but  will  send  you  (if 
you  care  to  accept  it,)  the  remainder  some 
other  time.  May  God  bless  you  all,  and 
your  affectionate  brother,  &c. 


LETTER  VII. 

Ditmmer,  June  29,  1 737- 
My  dear  Friends,  the  inhabitants  of 
Collingtree,  near  Northampton, — 
I  RECEIVED  the  letter  wrote  in  your  name, 
and  signed  with  your  hands,  and  was  very 
well  pleased  with  its  contents.  I  am  glad 
that  you  are  all  in  good  health,  and  am 
obliged  to  you  for  retaining  so  honourable 
a  remembrance  of  an  unworthy  youth. 
Your  desire  to  have  a  careful  clergyman 
settled  among  you,  is  perfectly  right  and 
laudable.  But  I  fear  you  make  an  over- 
favourable  and  mistaken  judgment,  when 
you  imagine  me  to  be  such  a  one,  and  pitch 
upon  me  for  that  purpose.  However,  let- 
ting this  pass,  it  is,  I  say,  well  and  wisely 
done  of  you,  to  be  solicitous  in  this  matter. 
For  a  minister  is  a  person  of  the  greatest 
importance  imaginable  ;  his  office  is  of  the 
most  universal  concernment ;  and  his  de- 
meanour therein  of  the  most  beneficial  or 
prejudicial  tendency.  Beneficial,  if  he  be 
able,  faithful,  and  watches  for  his  people's 
souls,  as  one  that  must  give  account. 
Prejudicial,  if  he  be  unskilful,  inactive,  and 
unconcerned  about  the  spiritual  welfare  of 
his  people.  The  things  tliat  pertain  to  sal- 
vation, and  the  means  of  obtaining  everlast- 
ing life,  are  lodged  in  his  hands.  He  is 
the  steward  of  the  mysteries  of  Christ,  and 


so  the  guardian  (under  divine  grace)  of 
your  best  and  most  abiding  interests.  If 
through  ignorance  he  mismanage,  or  through 
idleness  neglect  this  weighty  trust,  it  may 
be  the  ruin  of  immortal  souls  ;  whereas,  if 
he  be  both  discreet  and  diligent  in  his  holy 
vocation,  he  may  be  the  instrument  of  the 
richest  benefits  to  those  committed  to  his 
charge.  His  praying  to  God,  and  his 
preaching  to  them,  may  be  attended  with 
such  a  blessing  from  on  high,  as  will  fill 
them  with  heavenly  wisdom,  form  them  to 
true  holiness,  and  fit  them  for  the  future 
glory.  Benefits  these,  not  inconsiderable 
or  momentary,  but  such  as  are  great  beyond 
all  expression,  and  lasting  to  eternity.  For 
these  reasons,  it  will  be  your  wisdom  and 
your  happiness  to  procure  a  pastor  whose 
life  is  exemplary  ;  whose  doctrine  is  sound, 
whose  heart  is  warm  with  zeal  for  God  ; 
and  whose  bowels  yearn  with  compassion 
for  men.  If  your  bones  were  broken,  or  if 
you  were  brouglit  to  death's  door  by  the 
force  of  some  violent  disease,  you  would 
not  be  content  with  the  prescription  of  a 
quack,  but  seek  out  for  the  best  advice. 
If  your  wives  were  in  hard  labour  ;  if  the 
children  were  come  to  the  birth,  and  there 
was  not  strength  to  bring  forth,  you  would 
not  spare  to  ride  for  the  most  experienced 
midwife.  Oh  !  be  as  prudent  and  careful 
for  the  salvation  of  your  souls,  which  en- 
dure for  ever,  as  you  are  for  the  life  of  your 
bodies,  which  is  but  as  a  vapour.  Re- 
member that  you  are  sick  of  sin,  sad- 
ly disordered  by  sundry  corruptions,  and 
must  necessarily  be  cured  before  you  go 
hence  and  are  no  more  seen.  Remem- 
ber that  you  must  be  regenerated  and  born 
again,  or  you  cannot  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  And  be  not  willing  to 
trust  such  matters,  which  are  of  infinite  and 
everlasting  moment,  to  the  management  of 
any  that  comes  next. 

Now,  that  you  may  be  the  better  able  to 
make  a  right  choice  in  this  important  par- 
ticular, I  will  lay  before  you  two  or  three  of 
the  distinguishing  characters  of  a  true  min- 
ister. First,  He  has  a  tolerable  stock  of 
knowledge  :  Though  not  enough  to  explain 
all  mysteries,  or  to  answer  every  perplexing 
question,  yet  enough  to  make  himself  and 
his  hearers  wise  unto  salvation.  He  may 
be  ignorant  of  many  things,  without  much 
disparagement  to  himself,  or  prejudice  to 
his  people ;  but  he  must  be  acquainted 
with,  and  able  to  teach  others,  all  that  is 
necessary  for  them  to  know.  Secondly, 
He  has  not  only  some  understanding,  but 
some  experience  also,  in  the  way  of  godli- 
ness. He  has  learned  to  subdue,  in  some 
measure,  the  pride  of  his  nature,  and  to  be 
humble  in  his  own  eyes,  and  not  fond  of 
applause  from  others.  He  has  broke  the 
impetuosity   of  his  passion,  and  generally 


742 


A  COLLECTIOxN  OF  LETTERS. 


possesses  Iiis  soul  in  patience  ;  or  if,  upon 
some  very  ungrateful  and   provoking  usage, 
he    cannot  calm  his    temper,    yet    he  can 
curb  his  tongue  ;  and  though   his   spirit  he 
luffled,  yet  his  words  will   be  gentle.      He 
is  most  commonly  meek,  after  the  manner 
of  his  blessed  Master,   and  will  always  re- 
turn blessing  for  cursing,   according  to  his 
lioly  command.     He  has  often   looked  into 
the  shortness  of  time,   and   the   length  of 
eternity  ;  he  has  weighed  the  greatness  and 
richness  of  heaven,  with   the  insignificant 
and  despicable  meaimess  of  earth  ;  and  dis- 
<-overs  such  a  mighty  difference,  as  helps 
him  to  live  above  the   world,  even  while  he 
is  in  it.      So  that   he  is   no  lover  of  filthy 
lucie,  no  hunter  of  carnal  pleasures,  but  his 
hopes,  his  desires,  and  all  his  views  of  hap- 
piness, are  hid  with  Christ  in  God.     He  is 
courteous    and    condescending,    and    will 
stoop  with  the  utmost   cheerfulness  to  the 
lowest  person   in    his  parish.     He  will  be 
alfable  and  kind,  and   seek  to  please,  not 
himself,  but   his   neighbours,  for  their  good 
to  edification.     Eut  you   must  not  expect 
to  find  him  trifling  or  ludicrous  ;  he  will  not 
preach  to  you  on  the  Sunday,  and  ])lay  with 
you  on  the  week-days,  but  cairy  the  spirit 
of  his  sermons  into  his   ordinary  conversa- 
tion.    He  will  maintain  an  uniform  gravity 
of  behaviour,  without  suffering  it  to  be  iVo- 
zen  into  uioroseness,  or  thawt-d  into  levity. 
He  will  love  his  parishioners,  not  for  their 
agreeable  persons  or  amiable  (pialities,  but 
because  they  are  redeemed  by  the  blood  of 
Christ.      It  will  be   his  business  and  con- 
stant endeavour,  I  h;id  almost  said  his  meat 
and  drink,  to  set  forward  their  salvation  ; 
that,  by  their  being  made  meet  for  the  in- 
heritance of  saints   in  light,    his    crucified 
Lord  may  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and 
be  satisfied.      He  will  never  foiget  the  im- 
portunate request  of  his  Saviour,  but  those 
winning  and  commanding   words,    "  Feed 
my  sheep,  feed  niy  lanibs,"  will  be  engraven 
upon  the  tables  of  his  heart.      To  fulfil  this 
earnest  request,  and  execute  this  last  charge 
of  his  dearest  Redeemer,  will  be  the  fixed 
and  invariable  scope  of  all  his  designs.      If 
at  any  time  he  hits  this  desirable  mark,  by 
bringing  home  to  the  fold  any  that  have  gone 
astray,  he  will  be  as  glad  as  one  that  findeth 
great  spoils.     To  see  the  people  of  his  care 
persisting  in  profaneness,  sensuality,  and  an 
miconverted  stale,  will  be  the  greatest  grief 
that  he  feels  :   but  to  see  his  children  walk- 
ing in  the  truth,  mortifying  their  evil  affec- 
tions, and  grow  ing  up  m    goodness  as  the 
calves  of  the  stall,  this  will  be  his  joy  and 
crown   of  rejoicing ;    better    to  him    than 
thousands  of  silver  and  gold.    It  is  his  work 
to  win  souls  ;  and  by   tl'.e   former  of  these 
qualifications  he  is  fitted   for  it,  by  the  lat- 
ter he  is   Avholly   devoted   to   it.      And,  in 
prder  to  prusccuti.  it  with  the  greater  suc- 


cess, he  will  first  take  heed  to  himself,  that 
his  life  be  a  fair^nd  beautiful  transcript  of 
his  doctrine,  such  as  may  remind  men  of, 
and  be  daily  reinforcing  his  instructions. 
He  will  not  hind  the  yoke  upon  your 
shoulders,  till  he  has  wore  it  himself  ;  and 
should  the  paths  of  religion  prove  never  so 
thojiiy,  he  will  go  first,  and  beat  the  way. 
As  far  as  human  infirmities  permit,  he  will 
strive  to  be  unblamable  and  irreproveable, 
that  he  may  renew  the  aj)ost!e's  challenge, 
"  Be  ye  followers  of  me,  even  as  I  am  of 
Christ."  Secondly,  his  preaching  will  be 
plain  ;  full  of  such  useful  stnse  as  may  I;e 
edifying  to  the  better  learned,  and  yet  deli- 
vered in  so  easy  a  manner  as  may  be  intelli- 
gible to  the  ignorant.  It  will  not  only  be 
plain,  but  'powerful  also ;  if  preceding 
prayers  and  tears ;  if  words  coming  warm 
from  the  heart,  and  accompanied  with  an 
ardent  desire  of  being  attended  to;  if  to 
feel  himself  what  he  sjieaks,  and  to  long 
tliat  it  may  be  felt  by  others,  can  make  it; 
such,  he  will  decliire  the  \ihole  will  of  God, 
without  witl'.hold'.n.i:  or  mincing  any.  Be 
the  truth  never  so  disagreeable,  contrary  to 
your  profits,  or  contrary  to  your  pleasures, 
you  will  be  sure  to  hear  it.  He  will  indeed 
show  it  in  as  lovely  a  light,  and  make  it  as 
palatable  as  he  can,  but  nothing  will  prevail 
upon  him  to  conceal  or  disguise  it.  Third- 
ly, he  \\ill  not  confine  his  leaching  to  God's 
(lay  or  house,  but  will  exercise  his  care  of 
you  every  day,  and  will  bring  it  home  to 
your  own  houses,  whether  you  invite  him 
or  no.  He  will  frequently  visit  you,  and 
for  the  same  end  as  he  meets  you  at  church. 
Now,  shall  you  like  this  part  of  his  duty, 
or  bid  him  welcome  when  he  comes  on 
such  an  errand  ?  Nay,  he  will  think  him- 
self bound  to  proceed  farther,  and  to  in- 
quire into  the  state  of  your  souls,  and  your 
proceedings  in  your  families  ;  whether  you 
are  competently  furnished  with  saving 
knowledge,  and  are  cartfid  to  increase  it 
daily,  by  allow  ing  u  daily  portion  of  your 
time  for  reading  the  Scriptures  ?  «  hat  vir- 
tues you  are  deficient  in,  what  vices  you  are 
subject  to?  what  evil  tempers,  v^hat  \ile 
afi'ections,  what  unruly  passions  are  jiredo- 
minant  in  you,  and  want  to  be  suppressed? 
whether  your  children  are  catechized,  and 
your  servants  instructed?  whether  you  are 
constant  in  family- worship,  and  at  yuur  clo- 
set devotions  ?  how  you  sjiend  the  Sabbath 
— whether  you  squander  it  away  in  im[)er- 
tinent  visits,  idle  chat,  or  foolish  jesting  ; 
or  whether  you  consecrate  it  to  the  better 
exercises  of  jirayer,  praise,  holy  discourse, 
reading  and  nieiiilation  ?  These,  and  other 
points  of  the  like  nature,  he  will  examine 
into ;  and  exhort  you  to  amend  what  is 
amiss,  no  less  than  encourage  you  to  jierse- 
vere  in  that  which  is  good.  Nor  will  he 
exhoit  '  (Ai   oiicL    or   twite  unly,  but  r'f^aiii 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


71-3 


and  asain,  and  hardly  leave   off  till  he  has  I  to  obtain  him  is  to   address   yourselves  to 


won  your  consent.  In  things  that  relate 
to  liiniself,  he  will  be  easily  said  nay ;  but 
when  the  great  God  insists  upon  obedi- 
ence, and  a  blessed  immortality  will  be  lost 
by  disobedience,  he  will  be  instant  in  sea- 
son, and  out  of  season  ;  he  will  solicit  with 
unwearied  applications  the  important  cause, 
and  press  you  to  perform  your  duty,  as  the 
poor  widow  importuned  the  uiijusijudge  to 
avenge  her  of  her  adversary  j  he  will  add 
to  his  exhortations  reproofs.  His  eye  will 
be  open,  and  his  ears  attentive  to  what 
passes  in  his  parish  ;  and  when  any  one 
walks  disorderly,  he  will  meet  him  as  Eli- 
jah did  Ahab,  I  Kinp:s  xxi.  20,  with  a 
rebuke  in  his  mouth.  This  I  can  promise, 
that  he  will  not  rail  at,  nor  accost  you  with 
reproachful  words,  but  he  will  certainly  set 
before  you  the  things  that  you  have  done. 
He  will  not  defame  you  behind  your  backs, 
but  whether  you  be  rich  or  poor,  whether 
you  be  pleased  with  it  or  not,  he  will  bear 
in  mind  the  commandment  of  the  Lord,  and 
show  his  people  their  transgressions,  and 
the  house  of  .Jacob  their  sins,  Isa.  Iviii.  1. 
He  will  tell  you  with  tenderness,  but  yet 
with  |)lainness,  that  such  courses  are  a  sad 
and  too  sure  a  proof,  that  grace  has  not  had 
its  proper  work  on  your  souls  ;  that  ye  are 
carnal,  and  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ. 
So  that  a  true  minister  of  the  gospel  will 
be  a  constant  inspector  of  your  actions,  a 
faithful  monitor  of  yoiu'  duty,  and  an  im- 
partial reprover  of  your  offences.  He  will 
guide  you  by  his  counsel,  and  animate  you 
by  his  example,  and  bless  you  by  his 
prayers.  If  yoci  be  willing  and  obedient, 
he  will  coiuiuct  you  safely  through  a  trou- 
blesome and  naughty  world,  and  bring  you 
to  the  land  of  everlasting  felicity  ;  but  if 
you  be  perverse  and  obstinate,  he  will  be  a 
standuig  terror  to  your  consciences  here, 
and  a  swift  witness  against  you  hereafter  ; 
he  will  be  the  unhappy  means  of  increasing 
your  guilt,  and  aggravating  your  future  ac- 
count, and  of  making  it  more  tolerable  for 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  in  the  day  of  judgment, 
than  for  you- 

And  now,  my  kind  and  dear  frietids,  are 
you,  u])on  second  thoughts,  desirous  of 
having  such  a  pastor  placed  amongst  you  ? 
shall  you  be  glad  to  have  the  aforemention- 
ed vigilance  and  diligence  exerted  in  the 
holy  function  ?  Canyon  willingly  submit 
to  an  oversight  so  narrow,  to  admonitions 
so  incessant,  to  corrections  so  close  and 
particular?  If,  after  due  consideration, 
you  are  willing,  give  me  leave  to  inform 
you  how  you  may  procure  such  a  man  of 
God  to  come  unto  you,  and  take  up  his 
abode  with  you-  He  is  an  exceeding  great 
and  ))recious  blessing  to  any  peojjle ;  too 
precious  to  be  purchased  with  money,  and 
■:ift   of  G(ni  ;  so  that  the  way 


Heaven,  and  make  supplication  to  the  Al- 
mighty. What  cannot  prayer,  fervent  and 
believing  i)rayer,  do  ?  I  scarcely  know  any 
thing  that  is  above  its  power,  or  beyond  its 
reach.  Prayer  has  locked  up  the  clouds, 
<uid  opened  them  again,  made  the  earth  as 
iron,  and  the  heavens  as  brass  ;  prayer  has 
arrested  the  sun  in  his  race,  and  made  the 
moon  stand  still  in  her  march,  and  reversed 
the  perpetual  decree  ;  prayer  has  fetched 
down  angels  from  above,  and  raised  up  the 
dead  from  beneath,  and  done  many  won- 
derfid  works,  lu  like  manner,  prayer  will 
get  for  you  an  useful  and  worthy  teacher  ; 
if  he  be  ever  so  far  off,  this  will  bring  him 
near ;  if  he  be  never  so  averse,  this  will 
overrule  his  inclination.  Do  you  doubt  of 
this  ?  I  own  you  would  have  good  reason  if 
you  had  nothing  but  my  word  to  support 
it ;  but  what  if  God,  who  cannot  lie,  has 
testified,  and  given  you  assurance  of  the 
same  ?  Why,  then,  I  hope  ye  will  be  no 
longer  faithless  but  believing.  Hear, 
therefore,  what  he  himself  hath  said  by  his 
own  beloved  Son,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  re- 
ceive ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find,"  Matt.  vii. 
7.  Again  he  saith,  "  If  ye  shall  ask  any 
thing  in  my  name,  I  will  do  it,"  John  xiv. 
14.  Here  you  see  the  Almighty  has  pass- 
ed his  word,  and  he,  to  whom  all  things 
are  possible,  has  pawned  his  veracity,  that 
lie  will  not  deny  you  the  request  of  your 
lips.  And  dare  you  not  trust  in  the  All- 
])owerful  ?  Can  you  have  a  better  security 
than  his,  whose  title  is  faithful  and  true  ? 
The  divine  promises  are  all  immutable, 
stronger  than  the  strong  mountains  ;  and 
heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  sooner 
than  one  jot  or  tittle  of  them  shall  pass 
unfultilled.  When  you  desire  a  pious  and 
able  minister,  ye  desire  a  good  thing,  such 
as  will  be  for  the  honour  and  glory  of  God 
to  grant.  Therefore,  encouraged  by  this, 
and  confiding  in  his  most  sure  promise,  beg 
of  the  IVIost  High  to  give  you  a  true  ])as- 
tor  and  shepherd  for  your  souls  ;  one  that 
may  love  you  like  St.  Paul,  rule  you  like 
David,  teach  you  like  Samuel,  and  lead  you 
like  Joshua  to  the  heavenly  Canaan,  that 
blessed  and  blissful  country,  where  we  all 
would  be ! 

O  God,  great  and  glorious,  infinite  in  thy 
wisdom,  and  incontrollable  in  thy  power ! 
thy  providence  is  over  all  thy  works  ;  thine 
eyes  run  to  and  fro  through  the  earth,  to 
behold  the  condition,  and  supply  the  wants 
of  thy  servants  :  Thou  sentest  JVIoses  to 
deliver  thy  children  out  of  Egypt,  Philip  to 
instruct  the  ignorant  eunuch,  and  Peter  to 
preach  to  the  devout  centurion.  O  blessed 
Lord,  who  art  the  same  yesterday,  and  to- 
day, and  for  ever,  vouchsafe  the  same  mercy 
to  us  of  this  parish,  that  we  idso  may  have  u 
teacher  come  from  God  :    Grant  us,  O  thou 


744 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


(liver  of  every  good  gift,  a  faithful  shepherd 
i'or  our  t^ouls,  who  may  feed  us  in  a  green 
pasture,  and  lead  us  fortli  beside  the  waters  of 
comfort;  one  that  may  Ih'  wholly  devoted  to 
thy  ser\ice,  and  intent  n])on  nothing  but  the 
due  discharge  of  his  important  office ;  who 
may  be  a  light  to  our  paths  by  his  godly 
directions,  and  as  salt  to  our  corrupting 
souls  by  his  unblamable  conversation.  Let 
such  a  minister,  we  beseech  thee,  be  placed 
over  us  as  will  watch  for  our  spiritual  wel- 
fare, that  will  love  us  with  an  affectionate 
and  parental  tenderness,  that  will  cherish  us 
as  a  hen  cherisheth  her  chickens  under  her 
wings  ;  one  that  may  be  able  as  well  as  will- 
ing, to  instruct  us  in  our  duty ;  to  whom 
thou  bust  revealed  the  wondrous  things  of 
thy  law,  and  the  glorious  mysteries  of  thy 
gospel ;  whose  lips  may  preserve  knowledge, 
wiiose  tongue  may  be  continually  dealing  it 
out,  and  whose  mouth  may  be  unto  us  a 
w  ell  of  lire  ;  whose  discourses  may  be  milk 
to  the  babes,  meat  to  the  strong,  and  medi- 
cine to  the  sick  ;  who  may  have  a  skilful  as 
well  as  a  compassionate  zeal,  and  know  how 
to  divide  rightly  the  word  of  truth  ;  who 
may  be  an  example  as  well  as  an  exhorter, 
a  pattern  as  well  as  a  preacher,  of  eveiy 
charitable  action,  and  every  devout  temper  ; 
uiuler  whose  guidance  we  may  walk  in  the 
ways  of  peace  and  piety,  of  meekness  and 
liumility,  of  righteousness  and  salvation,  till 
we  all  come  to  the  city  of  the  living  God, 
to  an  inmimerable  company  of  angels,  and 
to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect.  O 
grant  us  such  a  priest,  and  clothe  him  with 
such  qualifications,  and  make  thy  chosen 
])eople  joyful.  Hear  us,  most  merciful  Fa- 
ther, for  his  sake  whose  sheep  we  are,  who 
bought  us  with  his  blood,  who  died  for  us 
on  earth,  and  maketh  intercession  for  us  in 
heaven,  even  Jesus  Christ ;  to  whom,  with 
thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  all  honour  and 
glory,  world  without  end.      Amen. 


J.ETTER  Vni. 

Dummer,  July  5,  1737. 
Dear  Sistkr, — I  hope  London  does  not 
disagree  with  the  health  of  your  body,  and 
I  dare  say  it  may  be  niade  serviceable  to  the 
health  of  yoiu'  soul.  There  are  precious 
opportunities  of  going  to  church,  and  wor- 
shipping the  divine  Majesty  every  morning 
and  evening,  \vhich  I  hope  you  do  not 
flight,  but  embrace  with  all  thankfulness, 
and  prefer  before  every  other  engagement. 
Jf  you  were  grievously  sick,  and  even  hard 
at  death's  doov,  you  would  be  glad  to  have 
lecourse  to  any  physician  ;  but  if  you  heard 
of  one  that  could  not  possibly  mistake  your 
pase,  and  would  infallibly  cure  you,  how 
j^iigerly  would  you  fly  to  him?      Sister,  be- 


lieve me,  our  souls  are  sick  of  sin,  sick  of 
worldly-mindedness,  sick  of  pride,  sick  of 
passion,  and  sundry  other  disorders,  which, 
if  not  speedily  healed,  will  bring  us  down, 
not  only  to  the  grave,  but  to  the  torments 
of  hell.  We  have  almost  as  little  taste  or 
relish  of  holy  and  devout  exercises,  as  a  sick 
and  languishing  man  has  for  the  strong  meats 
he  loved  when  he  was  well,  which  is  a  plain 
and  too  undeniable  a  proof,  that  our  better,  our 
immortal  part,  is  sadly  out  of  order.  Now, 
at  church  you  may  iiud  a  sure  and  never- 
failing  remedy  for  your  spiritual  disorders. 
God's  grace  is  a  sovereign  medicine,  and  iu 
his  house  it  is  to  be  obtained.  There  he, 
like  a  most  bountiful  and  beneficent  prince, 
stands  ready  to  dispense  the  help  and  as- 
sistance, the  enlightening  and  purifying  in- 
fluences of  his  Spirit.  Sure,  then,  we  who 
have  such  lu'gent  and  immediate  need  of 
them  shall  not  be  backward  to  go,  and  with 
an  humble  earnestness  seek  them.  1  say 
immediate  ;  for  since  our  life  is  so  uncer- 
tain, and  we  know  not  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth,  we  ought  to  get  our  work  despatched 
and  our  accounts  ready  without  delay.  It 
is  evening  now  I  write  this,  and  I  cannot 
tell  whether  this  may  not  be  the  night  in 
which  I  am  to  hear  that  amazing  cry,  Be- 
hold  the  liridegroom  cometh.      I  intend  to 

direct  my  letter  to  my  dear  sister ,  and 

hope  she  will  receive  it  safe ;  but  have  no 
certainty  whether  she  be  yet  alive  or  no. 
For  ought  I  know,  her  soul  may  be  standing 
before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  and  go- 
ing to  be  lixed,  if  not  ah  eady  fixed,  in  an 
unchangeable  eternal  state ;  her  body  may 
be  pale  and  cold,  and  stretched  out  in  the 
coffin ;  my  dear  mamma  and  my  brothers 
taking  their  last  farewell,  and  giving  her  the 
parting  kiss ;  the  joiner  just  about  to  nail 
on  the  lid,  and  hide  her  face  for  ever  from 
mortal  view ;  nny,  she  may  already  have 
been  carried  upon  men's  shoulders,  and  com- 
mitted to  the  dust,  so  that  what  I  am  in- 
diting may  find  her  in  the  grave.  She  may 
be  sleeping  in  some  church-yard  that  1  know 
nothing  of,  among  thousands  of  dead  bodies, 
never  to  awake,  never  to  arise,  till  the  arch- 
angel's trumpet  sounds,  and  the  heavens  are 
no  more.  The  very  imagination  of  this 
sudden  change  strikes  a  damp  upon  my 
heart ;  I  hope  it  is  nut  a  presage  of  what 
lias  really  happened ;  if  it  be,  and  if 
my  dear  sister  is  a  departed  spirit,  I  will 
henceforth  labour  to  dress  my  soul  with  ho- 
liness, that  it  may  be  ready  to  go  forth  at  a 
minute's  warning,  and  give  her  the  meeting 
in  another  world.  There,  if  my  sister  and 
I  shall  be  found  to  have  minded,  above  all 
things,  the  one  thing  neediul,  and  to  be  full 
of  heavenly,  spiritual,  and  divine  tempers, 
she  will  be  to  me  better  than  a  sister,  and 
I  shall  be  to  her  better  than  a  loving  and 
affectionate  brother,  &c. 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


745 


LETTER   IX. 

IMy  Dkar  FlUEND, —  I  KKciiivr.D  your 
kind  lette)',  and  thaiilc  you  tor  your  affec- 
tionate wishes.  1  endeavour  not  to  be  be- 
hind-hand with  my  i)eo])le  in  this  exerci.se 
of  love.  You  are  always  on  my  heart,  and 
often,  often  mentioned  in  my  prayers.  Iv^^pe- 
cially,  that  you  may  be  jiartaker  of  the  Holy 
(ilu)st,  euid  feel  all  those  s-avinaf  convictions 
■whicli  are  described  by  our  Jjord,  John  xvi. 
8 — 11  ;  that  you  may  be  interested  in  the 
new  covenant,  and  enjoy  all  those  precious 
privileges  which  were  purchased  for  us  by 
our  dying  Saviour,  and  are  recorded  by  his 
apostle,  Heb.  viii.  10 — I'i. 

Yesterday,  in  the  evening,  two  gentlemen 
of  the  oty  came  to  visit  nie.  Our  conver- 
sation was  such  as  I  would  have  yours  be ; 
such  as  was  suited  (if  God  vouchsafe  his 
blessing)  to  edify  one  another,  and  minister 
grace  to  the  hearers.  We  talked  of  that 
infinitely  condescending  and  gracious  Friend 
of  siimers,  who  came  from  hciiven  on  ])ur- 
pose  to  be  crucified  foi'  us,  and  is  returned 
unto  heaven  on  purj)ose  to  intercede  for  us. 
The  intercession  of  our  blessed  Lord 
WHS  the  chief  subject  of  our  discourse,  and 
is  a  most  comfortable  article  of  our  faith. 
Because 

His  intercession  never  ceases  ;  lie  sittcth 
at  tiie  right  hand  of  his  lather  iti  an  abiding 
posture.  Other  high  priests  are  renio\ed 
by  death,  but  he  ever  liveth  to  make  inter- 
cession for  us.  We  resign  part  of  our  time 
to  slee]),  and  then  lose  all  attention  to  our 
own  interests  ;  but  he  is  the  Keeper  of 
Lsrael,  who  never  slumbereth  nor  sleejteth. 
We  too  frequejitly  forget  our  God,  and  ne- 
glect to  carry  on  couuDiinion  with  him  ; 
but  Christ  has  written  our  names,  (worth- 
less as  they  are,)  upon  the  piJms  of  his 
hands  ;  and  a  mother  may  forget  her  suck- 
ing child  much  sooner  than  he  will  discon- 
tinue his  kind  concern  for  the  wtiJcest  be- 
liever. 

His  intercession  always  prevails.  If 
]\Ioses  was  heard,  when  he  made  supjdica- 
tion  in  bcliall'  of  Israel ;  if  Job  was  not  de- 
nied, when  he  petitioned  for  the  pardon  of 
his  three  friends ;  if  Elijah's  prayer  enter- 
ed into  the  ear  of  the  Lord  God  of  hosts, 
when  he  requested  for  rain  upon  the  parched 
earth — surely  God's  dearly  beloved  Son  will 
not  be  rejected,  when  he  raaketh  intercession 
for  the  saints.  The  Father  loves  him,  in- 
finitely loves  him,  and  therefore  hears  him. 
lie  iias  purchased  whatever  he  asks,  j)ur- 
chased  it  by  his  obedience  and  death,  and 
therefore  cannot  but  obtain  his  suit. 

Perhaps  you  will  inquire,  What  it  is  that 
Christ  prays  for?  We  are  informed  of  this 
in  John  .wii.  He  prays  that  we  may  be 
kept   from    the  evil   that   is  in   the  w  oild, 


verse  15:  That  we  may  be  sanctified 
thi'oiigh  the  truth ;  sanctified  through  the 
wold  of  Scripture,  verse  17:  That  we  m:iy 
be  united  to  C  hrist,  and  have  fellow.shijj 
with  the  Father  by  faith,  fellowship  with 
one  another  by  brotherly  love,  veise  '21  : 
That  we  may  be  made  perfect  in  his  right- 
eousness, ]jresented  without  spot  thiougb 
his  blood,  and,  at  last,  be  with  him  where 
he  is,  to  behold  his  glory,  and  paitake  of 
his  joy,  verses  ■2:i,  '24. 

Should  you  be  desirous  of  knowing  whe- 
ther yon  are  in  the  number  of  tliose  for 
whom  Christ  iritercedes,  you  may  determine 
this  important  point  by  the  following  ques- 
tions:—Uo  you  value  above  all  things  the 
blessings  for  which  Christ  intercedes  ?  Do 
you  join  your  own  repeated  and  earnest  sup- 
plications to  his  intercess.on  ?  And  do  you 
rely  wholly  upon  Christ's  unspeakable  me- 
rits for  the  acceptance  of  all  yoiu'  pi  ayers  ? 
If  so,  be  not  discouraged ;  Christ  is  your 
Advocate  with  the  Father.  He  died  for 
you  on  the  cross,  and  pleads  his  meritorious 
oblations  for  you  on  his  throne. 

Is  not  this  an  inestimable  blessing?  If 
Hezekiah  desired  the  prayers  of  Isaiah,  if 
Darius  desired  the  prayers  of  the  godly 
Jews  for  himself  and  his  sons,  how  should 
we  lejoice  in  having  the  prayers  of  the  ex- 
alted Jesus  !  If  we  are  tempted,  let  this 
be  our  security,  Luke  xxii.  81,  32.  If  we 
fall  into  sin  through  the  infirmity  of  the 
flesh,  let  this  be  our  refuge,  1  John  ii.  l,ii. 
If  under  apprehensions  of  death,  or  eternal 
judgment,  let  this  be  our  consolation,  Rom. 
viii.  33,  34. 

I  do  not  write  out  the  Scri]itures,  because 
I  would  have  you  look  them  out,  or  even 
write  them  out  with  your  own  hand.  And 
may  the  blessed  Spirit  of  God  write  them 
u])on  all  our  hearts  !  This  will  come  to 
you,  I  hoj)e,  on  Christmas  eve.  You  will 
talk  of  this  letter,  and  its  contents,  to  your 
harvest-men.  I  should  be  glad  to  be  with 
you,  and  converse,  as  we  used  to  do,  on 
Christ  and  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  None 
of  my  flock,  1  hope,  will  be  filled  with  li- 
quor, wherein  is  excess,  but  be  filled  with 
the  Spirit.  My  kind  love  to  your  family, 
and  all  your  neighbours,  j)articularly  to  yoiu- 
brother  ^S'illiam,  whose  letter  I  shall  an- 
swer by  the  first  opportunity. — Yours,  See. 


LETTER  X. 

Stoke- Ahbeij,  June  19,  1738. 
Dkau  SisTiK, —  Wii. I,  you  accept  of  an- 
other letter  from  your  loving  brother,  w  ),o 
loves  your  better  jiait,  and  would  lain  he 
helpful  to  your  immortal  interests?  1  think 
1  wrote  to  you  when  at  London  ;  I  knovv 
not  what  acceptance  that  letter  found,  but 


716 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


I  call  assure  you  it  meant  iiotliing  but  good, 
spiritual  benefit,  and  everlasting  advantage 
to  you. 

i  hope  my  — —  and are  more  easy 

with  regard  to  me  and  my  welfare.  My 
disorder  is  a  languor  and  faintness,  a  feeble- 
ness and  inability  for  action,  which  is  in- 
creased or  lessened  according  to  the  various 
temperature  of  the  weather.  I  bless  God 
Almighty  I  am  not  deprived  of  my  appetite 
to  food,  neither  are  my  bones  chastened 
Avith  pain  ;  so  that  many  impute  all  my  com- 
plaints to  a  hip!)ish  and  over  timorous  turn 
of  mind,  to  a  distempered  imagination,  ra- 
ther than  a  disordered  body. 

I  write   this   in  a  pleasure-house  of  Mr. 

,  situated  upon  a  high  cliff,  on  the  very 

edge  of  the  sea.  On  one  side  a  vast  track 
of  land  extends  itself,  finely  diversified  by 
stately  trees,  floating  corn,  and  pasturage 
for  cattle.  On  the  other  side  rolls  the 
great  and  wide  sea,  where  go  the  ships,  and 
where  is  that  leviathan  whom  the  Almighty 
Creator  has  made  to  take  his  pastime  there- 
in. Which  way  soever  I  look,  I  meet  with 
footsteps  of  the  divine  immensicy  ;  1  view 
thy  great  and  marvellous  works,  O  Lord 
God  omnipotent ;  I  am  encountered  with 
ten  thousand  arguments  to  fear  thy  tremen- 
dous power,  and  love  thy  diffusive  goodness. 
O  how  safe  are  they  who  have  so  infinite 
and  mighty  a  Being  for  their  guard  !  How 
happy  are  they  who  have  so  inexhaustibly 
rich  a  God  for  their  portion  !  Eut  how 
wretched,  dear  sister,  how  miserably  and 
emphatically  wretched,  who  have  such  a  one 
for  their  enemy  and  avenger  !  Oh  !  how 
can  our  feeble  frame,  that  shrinks  at  a  little 
light  affliction,  that  is  but  for  a  moment, 
how  can  it  bear  the  never-ending  vengeance 
of  that  prodigious  arm  vv'hich  stretched  out 
the  heavens,  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
e.uth,  and  poured  out  the  waters  of  the 
nnghty  deep ! 

I  have  been  about  twenty  or  twenty-six 
miles  into  Cornwall,  and  seen  wondrous 
workmanship  of  tlie  all-creating  God  ;  rag- 
ged rocks,  roaring  seas,  frightful  ])recipices, 
and  dreadfully  steep  hills.  At  Biddeford, 
a  market  town  about  fourteen  miles  off,  I 
am  ])retty  well  known,  and  am  a  little  es- 
teetned.  It  is  strange  to  tell,  but  let  it  be 
to  the  glory  of  God's  free  and  undeserved 
goodness,  though  I  am  worthy  of  shame  and 
universal  contempt,  yet  I  find  favour  and 
good  understanding  almost  wherever  I  go. 

]VIr.  's  house   is  situated  in  a  fine 

vale.  It  is  an  ancient  structure,  built  for 
the  use  of  religious  recluses,  and  has  an  an- 
ticjue,  grave,  and  solemn  aspect :  before  it 
is  a  neat  spot  of  ground,  set  ajjart  for  the 
use  of  a  garden,  enriched  with  fruits,  and 
beautified  with  ilowers.      This   leads  into  a 


form,  and  uniting  their  branches.  In  the 
midst  is  a  fountain  large  enough  to  swim  in, 
and  a  little  engine  playing  the  waters.  On 
each  side  are  arbours  for  shade,  in  various 
parts  seats  for  rest :  on  the  right  hand  runs 
parallel  to  it  a  clear  purling  brook,  reple- 
nished with  trout ;  on  the  left,  a  thick 
grove  hanging  from  the  side  of  a  hill :  the 
one  serves  for  a  watery  mound,  the  other  is 
a  leafy  shelter  from  the  north  wind;  and 
both,  I  think,  greatly  orim mental.  This, 
you  will  say,  is  pleasant ;  but  how  unworthy 
to  be  compared  with  those  blissful  mansions 
fitting  up  for  the  righteous  in  the  heaven  of 
heavens  !  This,  and  if  there  be  any  other 
spot  a  thousand  times  more  delicate,  is  no 
better  than  a  howling  wilderness,  if  com- 
pared with  the  regions  of  paradise.  I  wish 
my  dear  sister  would  earnestly  seek  for 
God's  grace  to  draw  ofl^  her  affections  from 
earthly  delights,  and  fix  them  there,  where 
real,  substantial,  and  eternal  joys  are  to  be 
found,  viz.  on  the  blissful  vision  of  God, 
and  the  fulness  of  joy  that  is  in  his  presence 
for  evermore. — Your,  &c. 


LETTER  XL 

Biddeford  Dec.  10,  1740. 

Dear  Sister, — Tholtgh  I  am  so  back- 
ward in  my  compliments,  I  am  most  hearty 
in  my  wishes,  that  your  spouse  and  yourself 
may  enjoy  abundance  of  ha])])iness  in  the 
married  state.  I  congratulate  late,  but  I 
shall  ever  ))ray  that  you  may  find  blessings 
twisted  with  the  matrimonial  bajids,  and  not 
only  live  lovingly  together  as  one  tlesh,  but 
live  holily  together,  as  fellovv-heii's  of  the 
grace  of  life. 

I  hope  you  will  both  remember  the  eter- 
nal world,  which  must  very  shortly  receive 
you  :  That,  ere  long,  the  nuptial-bed  must 
be  resigned  for  a  lodging  in  the  grave  ;  and 
the  ornaments  of  a  sparkling  bride  be  ex- 
changed for  the  dressings  of  death.  And 
if,  uiider  the  frequent  view  of  these  serious 
truths,  you  study  to  further  each  other  in 
faith  aiul  holiness,  then  wiU  you  be  true 
help-meets  one  to  the  other;  then  will  you 
come  together,  not  for  the  worse,  but  for 
the  better ;  then  may  you  trust,  that,  when 
death  shall  dissolve  the  union  below,  Christ 
Jesus  will  bid  it  commence  again  above, 
and  continue  to  endless  ages  in  the  midst  of 
unspeakable  delight. 

Please  to  present  n:y  humble  service  to 

the  several  Mr. and  Mrs.  ,  that 

still  remain  in  your  town  ;  to  Mrs. and 

her  daughter  ;  Mr. and  his  spouse,  and 

Mr. .  Remember  me  also  in  the  kind- 
est manner  to   your  poor  neighbours,  j)arti- 


curious  sort  of  artificial  wilderness,  made  of  I  cularly  those  who  have  Mr. 's  book^ 

elms  and  linx's,   planted  in  rows,  cut  into  |  May    (iod    Almighty  give    them    grace  to 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


-47 


rnuke  a  proper  atulpracticul  me  of  theai ! 
Tviay  he  siuietit'y  tiie  iiUeiitive  aiui  diligent 
leauiiig  of  them,  to  their  iiierease  in  <:;oflli- 
iiess,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Loi'd  and 
Siiviour  Jebiis  (Christ ! 

When  you  see  iny  Colli iigtree  rehitions 
aiul  aequiiiutaiiee,  salute  them  alFeetionate- 
ly  in  my  name.      I   suppose  you  will  soon 

see  my  and  ;  present   my  duty 

to  them.  I  sliould  rejoice  to  see  them 
again  in  the  tiesh,  hefore  iuiy  of  us  go  lience, 
and  are  no  more  seen.  May  tiie  Father 
of  our  spirits,  and  the  lather  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  our  righteousness,  prepare  us 
ior  a  haj)py  meeting  in  the  regions  of  glory, 
a/id  for  the  blissful  vision  of  his  own  adora- 
ble self. 

Tliere  is  at  Biddeforci,  and  has  been  for 
a  eon-iderable  time,  a  townsman  of  mine, 

a  middle-aged  min,  horn  at ;  his  name 

is .      I  little   thouglit   to  find  sueh  a 

jiei-son  in  these  remote  parts.  It  puts  me 
in  mind  of  heaven,  where  people  of  every 
kindred  and  tongue,  of  all  nations  and  laii- 
j<UHges,  will  form  one  general  and  glorious 
«ssembly.  ]\Iay  you  and  I,  dear  sister,  one 
day  l»e  numbered  with  tluise  children  oi' 
God,  and  have  our  lot,  our  delightful  and 
everlasting  lot,  among  the  saints.      I  am, 


LETTER  XIL 

'Jime2,  1717. 
Rkvkkknd  and  di:.\h  !Sik, — Ca.v  you 
aceept  the  will  for  the  deed  ?  It  was  in 
my  heart,  long  before  this,  to  have  made 
yon  my  best  acknowledgments  ;  and  not  in 
my  heart  oidy,  but  actually  attempted.  In 
Buckingliamshire  I  remembered  my  kind 
and  obliging  friend,  and  was  with  delight 
set  down  to  give  vent  to  my  grateful 
thoughts.  But  company  on  a  sudden  com- 
ing in  arrested  my  pen,  and  engaging  me 
till  I  returned  from  that  place,  prevented 
the  execution  of  my  design.  Now,  sir, 
my  heartiest  thanks  for  your  welcome  as- 
sistaiice  desire  your  acceptance  ;  and  if  the 
utmost  sincerity  can  atone  for  the  dela}', 
my  conscious  heart  assures  me  they  will 
not  be  rejected.  My  father  is  woiulerfidly 
recovered.  H;id  he  lived  in  the  times  of 
superstition,  for  ought  I  know,  his  uneom- 
inon  disorder  might  have  been  ascribed  to 
witchcraft,  and  his  speedy  recovery  passed 
current  for  a  miracle.  I'lie  grave  seemed 
to  have  opened  her  mouth  lor  him.  We 
thought  him  to  be  on  the  very  brink  of 
death. 

Quam  piciie  furvio  regna  I'roseipin^r, 
Kt  judicaiUem  vidcnt.Kacum, 
Sedesque  destriiiuis  piuiuni ! 

But  now  God  has  turned  and  rcfrched 


hirn  ;  yea,  and  brought  liim  from  the  lieptii 
of  the  earth  again.  He  lives,  and  regains 
his  strength  daily.  Last  Sunday  lie  refid 
prayers  in  his  church,  and  intends  next 
Sunday  to  fill  the  pulpit, 

ivXrs.  ,    I    hope,    is  very  well ;   to 

whom  I  beg  my  humble  service  may  be 
acceptable.  Your  dear  little  ones  too,  the 
olive  plants  about  your  table,  I  trust  are  in 
a  flourishing  state.  May  the  good  Lord 
fidtil  his  precious  promise  to  them,  and  the 
children  of  your  honoured  neighbour.  May 
he  pour  his  Sj)irit  upon  your  seed,  and  his 
blessing  upon  your  oifspring,  that  they  niHy 
grow  up  (in  knowledge  and  grace)  as  wil- 
lows by  the  water-courses.  I  am  just  now 
going  to  our  visitation,  held  at  Northamp- 
ton. I  shall  appear  as  a  stninger  in  our 
Jerusalem  !  knowmg  few,  and  known  by 
fewer.  Metliinks  there  is  somethintr  au.',-us'. 
and  veiii;rable  in  a  meeting  of  the  clergy , 
especially  if  one  looks  upon  them  as  so 
mar.y  agents  for  the  invisible  God,  and 
envoys  from  the  court  of  heaven.  I  hojie 
to  be  put  in  mind  of  that  awful  day,  when 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  great  Slie])- 
herd  of  the  sheep,  and  Bishop  of  souls, 
will  make  iiis  entrance  in  the  clouds  of 
heaven.  Then,  at  that  great,  finni,  and 
decisive  entraiu-e,  may  tny  dear  I'riend  re- 
ceive tiie  apjirobation  of  his  Judge.  May 
he  then  be  rewarded,  for  his  kind  offices  to 
myself  and  others,  in  everlasting  honour 
and  joy.      I  am,  is:c. 


LETTER  XIII. 

Bidth/ord,  Juh/  7,  1741. 

Dear  Sister, — Afn-r  a  very  sultry  jour- 
ney, 1  arrived  safe  at  Biddelord.  Here  I 
have  been  one  whole  week.  At  Bath  and 
Bridgewater  I  made  a  considerable  stay. 
I  tarried  at  each  place  a  couple  of  nights  ; 
was  entertained  with   abundance  of  civility. 

There  is  a  general  j)rospect  of  a  plente- 
ous harvest.  The  valleys  stand  so  thick 
with  corn,  as  makes  the  traveller  rejoice, 
and  the  husbandman  sing.  There  is  great 
want  and  scarcity  of  many  things,  but  there 
is  plenty  of  fish.  Now  the  dry  land  is  so 
barren,  the  waters  yield  the  larger  inciease. 
It  is  observed,  to  the  glory  of  God's  good 
providence,  that,  now  llesh  is  so  dear,  fish 
is  uncommonly  cheap.  Thus  graciously 
does  the  Almighty,  when  he  locks  up  one, 
open  another  fountain  of  his  beneficence. 
During  my  absence  from  Biddeford,  a  lusty 
man,  in  the  prime  and  vigour  of  life,  was 
carried  off  by  my  fithei's  disorder.  It  is 
therefore  a  distinguished  mercy  that  our  fa- 
ther has  enjoyed  ;  such  as  has  been  with- 
held from  others,  wlnle  it  has  been  vouch- 
safed to  him. 


748 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTEES. 


1  am  now  far  from  my  dear  relations. 
Friends  I  have  indeed,  but  not  one  of  my 
kindred  near  me.  O  that  God  may  be  my 
gni(ie,  my  protector,  and  my  portion  here 
and  for  ever.  If  (he  Lord,  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  be  my  shepherd,  I  shall  lack  no- 
thing. Unworthy,  altogether  unworthy  of 
such  an  inestimable  favour,  I  desire  to  lie  at 
the  feet  of  his  free  unmerited  grace  ;  seeking 
what  he  is  ready  to  give,  though  I,  alas  !  am 


of  eternal  life.  They  that  know  Christ's 
free  goodness,  will  put  their  whole  trust  in 
him,  and  seek  no  other  way  to  the  Father 
of  mercy  but  through  his  merit.  This  is 
the  only  claim  they  have  to  make  for  their 
acceptance — Christ  died  ;  but  for  whom 
did  he  die,  my  dear  friends  ?  He  ?ave 
himself  a  ransom  for  all ;  he  was  lifted  up 
upon  the  accursed  tree,  and  out  of  his  side 
came  a  fountain  of  blood  and  water,  where 


most  undeserving.  And  surely  we  have  ,  every  sinner  may  bathe,  and  be  made  clean, 
good  reason  to  hope,  and  the  very  best  en-  The  awakened  sons  of  Adam,  that  feel 
couragement  to  seek.  For  if  he  gave  his  I  their  miseries,  see  a  fulness  of  merit  in  one 
life,  and  spilt  his  blood  for  us,  will  he  not  |  drop  of  that  blood,  sufficient  to  atone  for 
much  rather  give  us  pardon  of  our  sins,  |  the  guilt  of  ten  thousand  worlds.  This 
and  justification  through  his  righteousness  ?  j  fills  them  with  great  comfort,  although  they 

I  hope  my   brother  is    in    perfect  j  are   vile    sitiners.     What  though  they  are 

health.  I  wish  him  a  seasonable  and  kind-  loathsome  beggars,  taken  from  the  dunghill 
ly  harvest ;  and  wish  you  both  abundance  {  of  uncleaimess,  that  are  but  now  returning 
of  happiness  ;  and  am,  dear  sister,  his  and  from  the  highways  and  hedges  of  every 
yours,  &c.  abominable  practice  ?     What  though  they 

are  as  beasts  before  God,  very  dogs,  hke 
that  poor  Syropheniciaii  woman  ?  yet 
Christ's  saving  kindness  is  so  great  and  un- 
bounded, that  be  casteth  out  none  who 
come  to  him.  Here  is  consolation  for  the 
trembling  sinner;  though  he  has  not  a  grain 
of  worthiness  in  himself,  yet  his  Lord  has 
infinite  treasures  of  unmerited  grace.  They 
who  believe  that  Christ  shed  his  precious 
blood  for  guilty  sinners,  will  cheerfully  put 
their  trust  in  his  atonement  for  pardon. 
They  will  say,  O  !  they  will  often  say,  with 
gratitude  glowing  in  their  breasts,  and  tears 
in  their  eyes.  Be  it  that  my  sins  are  of 
the  deepest  crimson  dye,  and  more  in  num- 
ber than  the  hairs  of  my  head,  yet  the  blood 
of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin,  and  wash- 
eth  a  filthy  polluted  conscience  whiter  than 
snow.  With  him  there  is  no  scanty,  but 
plenteous  redemption.  Be  my  debts  ever 
so  great,  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand 
talents,  yet  the  agonies  of  the  once  slaugh- 
tered Lamb  has  paid  it  to  the  very  utter- 
most farthing.  They  who  know  his  right- 
eousness will  put  their  trust  in  it  alone  for 
justification.  If  I  had  the  righteousness  of 
a  saint,  says  one,  O  how  happy  I  should 
be  :  If  I  had  the  righteousness  of  an  angel, 
says  another,  I  should  fear  no  evil.  But  I 
am  bold  to  say,  that  the  poorest  sinner  that 
believes  in  Christ  has  a  righteousness  in- 
finitely more  excellent  than  either  saints  or 
angels.  For  if  the  law  asks  for  sinless  per- 
fection, it  is  to  be  found  in  my  divine  Surety. 
If  the  law  refjuires  an  obedience  that  may 
stand  before  the  burning  eye  of  God,  be- 
hold it  is  in  Jesus  my  Mediator.  Should 
the  strictest  justice  arraign  me,  and  the 
purest  holiness  make  its  demands  upon  me, 
I  remit  them  both  to  my  dying  and  obedient 
Immanuel :  with  him  the  Father  is  always 
well  pleased ;  in  him  the  believer  is  com- 
plete. They  who  know  Christ's  power, 
will  put  their  trust  in  him  for  sanctificatioii 


LETTER  XIV. 

M\'  Dear  Friend, — I  find  you  have  had 

Mr.  among  you  lately.   Many,  I  hope 

nave  found  abundant  benefit  from  his 
preaching,  and  you  in  particular.  He  is  a 
shining  light,  a  choice  and  illustrious  am- 
bassador of  Jesus  Christ.  What  a  savour 
of  his  divine  Master  does  he  shed  abroad 
whenever  he  preaches ;  such  a  savour  as 
many  corruptions  cannot  overcome,  nor  all 
the  world  suppress.  Biddeford,  I  hope, 
has  experienced  this  savour.  Methinks  I 
now  see  him  in  the  pulpit,  and  hear  him 
lifting  up  his  compassionate  voice  like  a 
trumpet,  and  proclaiming  the  acceptable 
year  of  the  Lord.  Methinks  I  see  him  dis- 
playing the  gospel  standard,  and  his  tongue 
touched  from  the  heavenly  altar,  inviting 
sinners  to  fiock  under  his  shadow  :  crying. 
Come,  ye  simple  ones,  whom  Satan  has 
beguiled,  and  Christ  shall  give  you  light  ; 
come,  ye  wicked  ones,  whom  Satan  has  en- 
slaved, and  the  gracious  Redeemer  shall  set 
you  free ;  come,  ye  that  have  been  righte- 
ous in  your  own  eyes,  forsake  this  refuge  of 
lies,  and  enter  into  the  ark  before  the  rains 
descend,  and  the  fioods  come,  which  will 
sweep  away  every  false  hope.  O  lean  not 
upon  a  broken  reed  !  build  not  upon  the 
sinking  sand,  but  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages, 
the  foundation  laid  in  Zion  by  the  hand  of 
Heaven  itself.  Come  unto  Jesus  ye  ruin- 
ed and  undone  sinners,  for  he  has  a  tender 
heart  that  is  ever  open  to  receive  you,  and 
an  arm  that  is  omnipotent  to  save  you. 
Indeed,  my  friends,  those  that  know 
Christ's  name  will  seek  no  other  Saviour, 
nor  desire  any  other  good  ;  all  their  bones 
will  cry  out.  Lord,  unto  whom  shall  we  go, 
but  unto  thee  ?    thou  only  hast  the  words 


A  COLLECTION  OF  "LETTERS. 


749 


of  heart,  and  newness  of  life.  Though  sin  is 
rooted  in  my  soul,  and  riveted  in  my  consti- 
tution, yet  Christ  can  purge  it  out.  Though 
it  were  twisted  with  every  nerve  of  my  flesh, 
yet  he  can  make  the  rough  tempers  smooth, 
and  the  crooked  dispositions  straight :  the 
vile  affections,  like  legions  of  devils,  he  can 
root  out,  and  fill  every  heart  with  the  pure 
love  of  God.  To  which  happy  state  of 
soul  may  both  you  and  1  be  brought  while 
here  below  ;  that  we  m;iy  be  made  meet  to 
ascend  to  that  habitation  of  God,  where 
nothing  unclean  can  enter.  1  am  yours 
sincerely,  8:c. 


LETTER  XV.— To  iiis  Father. 

Biddeford,  Oct.  1,  1742. 

Reverend  and  Honoured  Sir, — Your 
last,  containing  the  melancholy  account  of 
the  death  of  both  my  aunts,  I  received.  I 
hope  they  died  in  the  Lord,  and  sleep  in 
the  bosom  of  Jesus  ;  and  then,  truly,  they 
are  the  happy  persons,  and  we  the  objects 
of  pity.  They  rest,  and  have  cast  anchor 
in  the  harbour  ;  whereas  we  are  still  beat- 
ing on  the  ocean,  and  tossed  in  the  storm. 
If  we  consider  things  impartially,  this  world 
is  our  grave  ;  nor  do  we  really  live,  till  we 
burst  the  fleshly  prison,  and  get  beyond  the 
visible  skies. 

In  the  grave  is  darkness.  It  is  called 
the  shadow  of  death-  And  what  else  is 
this  wretched  world  ?  what  but  a  state  of 
gloominess,  a  valley  of  the  thickest  dark- 
ness ;  where  poor  mortals  grope  in  spiritual 
ignorance,  and  wander  up  and  down,  not 
seeing  the  things  that  belong  to  their  peace  ? 

In  the  grave,  and  among  the  tombs,  we 
look  for  phantoms  and  apparitions.  And 
what  else  do  we  meet  with  here  below  ? 
A  thousand  sorts  of  happiness  present 
themselves  to  our  wishes,  but  are  unsub- 
stantial and  fantastical  all.  They  are  a 
gay  delusion,  and  mock  our  expectations, 
as  one  of  those  vanishing  forms  would 
baulk  our  embraces. 

The  grave  is  the  land  where  all  things 
are  forgotten.  The  ideas  of  friendship  are 
obliterated,  and  the  dearest  relatives  are  re- 
membered no  more.  And  is  not  this  too 
true  a  description  of  our  present  state  ?  Do 
we  not  unaccountably  forget  Jesus  Christ, 
our  almighty  friend,  and  everLasting  glory, 
our  invaluable  heritage  ?  Where  is  the 
man  that  remembers  his  bleeding  Saviour 
on  his  bed,  and  thinks  iii)on  him  when  he 
is  waking  ?  No  ;  the  Redeemer's  incon- 
ceivable love,  and  the  precious  benefits  of 
his  passion,  are  buried  in  a  deep  oblivion. 
This  world  then  of  darkness,  apparitions,  and 
fargetfulness,  is  the  grand  dormitory  ;  flesh 
and  blood  the  tomb  of  our  immortal  minds. 


Nascentes  monmur. 
I  fear  I  tire  you,  honoured  Sir ;  but  be- 
cause I  have  no  news  that  you  can  appre- 
hend or  relish,  I  allow  my  pen  in  these 
excursions.  This  week  I  was  sent  for  to 
visit  a  lady  of  this  parish,  in  the  same  dis- 
order that  proved  so  fatal  to  my  two  aunts. 
She  lay,  poor  gentlewoman,  most  terribly 
afflicted,  and  is  now  released.  It  put  me 
in  mind  of  the  Psalmist's  penitential  ac- 
knowledgment, which  I  think  is  never 
more  applicable  than  in  the  case  of  the 
small-pox  :  "  When  thou.  Lord,  with  re- 
bukes dost  chasten  man  for  sin,  thou  makest 
his  beauty  to  consume  away,  like  as  it  were 
a  moth  fretting  a  garment."  I  shall  rejoice 
to  hear  that  you  and  my  mother  continue 
well  under  all  your  trouble  and  fatigue,  and 
remain.  Reverend  and  Honoured  Sir,  your 
most  dutiful  Son. 


LETTER  XVI. 

Biddeford,  Oct.  12,  1742. 

Dear  Sister, —  I  received  your  kind 
letter.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  hear  from  Har- 
dingstone,  the  place  which  gave  me  birth, 
and  the  place  which  preserves  my  sister. 
I  am  obliged  to  the  Reverend  Mr.  Rose 
for  remembering  me,  and  desire  him  to 
accept  my  best  compliments  t  I  hope  he 
will  be  an  instrument  of  doing  much  good 
in  your  parish.  To  save  souls  is  the  noblest 
acquisition  in  the  world ;  infinitely  more 
desirable  than  to  find  great  spoils.  May 
this  be  his  honour  and  happiness,  and  may 
it  be  my  continual  aim  ! 

My  poor  aunts  are  no  more,  they  are 
gone  the  way  of  all  flesh  ;  eternity  has  re- 
ceived them ;  their  state  is  now  become  un- 
changeable. Oh !  that  we  may  be  alarmed  by 
their  departure,  and  labour  while  we  have 
time,  to  make  our  calling  and  election  sure  ! 

]\Iy  mother  tells  me  you  have  been  much 
indisposed  ;  I  shall  rejoice  to  hear  that  you 
are  better.  Sickness  and  afflictions  are 
God's  call ;  they  are  divine  admonitions, 
and  warn  us  not  to  be  fond  of  the  world, 
but  set  our  afl^ections  on  things  above.  May 
the  blessed  Jesus  make  them  effectual  to 
our  souls ! 

I  wish  I  had  any  news  to  write  that  you 
can  understand  and  relish.  The  small-po.\ 
is  marking  many,  and  carrying  off  some 
among  us  -.  it  is  a  privilege  of  no  small 
value  to  be  past  that  infectious  disorder  : 
1  have  often  thought  that  it  is  too  lively 
an  emblem  of  the  condition  of  our  souls, 
by  corrupt  nature  and  evil  practice.  So 
polluted,  so  loathsome  is  our  better  part  in 
the  eye  of  iHicreated  purity,  till  we  are 
washed,  till  we  are  cleansed  in  redeeming 
blood.      ]\Iay  we  earnestly  long  to  be  wash- 


760 


A   COLl<i:CT!ON  OF  LETTERS. 


eri  in  that  fountain,  opnnefl  in  our  Siiviotir's 
side,  for  sin  and  for  nncle.-miK'ss. 

See  how  our  jiidanieritr;  and  inrlinntions 
alter  in  process  of  time  !  I  onre  thunght 
I  should  make  less  use  of  the  Spectators 
than  you  ;  but  now  I  believe  tlie  re^•c^se  of 
this  is  true,  for  we  read  one  or  more  of 
those  eleg;;nt  aTid  instn!!-tive  papeis  every 
morning  at  breakfast :  they  are  served  nt) 
with  our  tea,  according  to  their  original 
design.  We  reckon  our  repast  imperfect 
without  ii  little  of  Mr,  yXdrtison's  or  Mr. 
Steele's  company.       I  wish    Miss    Becky 

K an    increase    of   liaj)pinesR  in    the 

change  of  her  state  ;  marriage  should  an?- 
ment  our  joys,  and  diminish  our  soriows. 

Mv  humble   service  attends  Mrs.  K , 

Mr.  C 's  family,  and  Mr.  V .     ]My 

love  to  my  brother,  and  to  yourself,  con- 
<'ludes  all  at  pi'esent  to  be  communicated 
by,  dear  sister,  your  affectionate  brother. 


LETTER  XVII. 

Bath,  Aiic/nst27,  174S. 

Reveuend  Sir, —  Sunday  hist  I  hap- 
pened not  to  be  at  the  Abbey-church  in 
the  afternoon.  But  conversing  with  a 
gentleman  who  %\-as  one  of  your  auditors,  I 
desired  to  have  a  summary  account  of  your 
sermon.  And  truly  he  gave  me  such  an 
account  as  both  astonished  and  grieved  me. 
You  dignified  worldly  prosperity  at  so  ex- 
traordinary a  rate,  and  almost  canonized  the 
])rosperous  man.  On  the  other  hand,  you 
vilified  the  glorious  Jesus  in  so  scandalous 
a  manner,  and  set  the  incarnate  Godhead 
to  one  of  the  most  ignoble  and  abominable 
offices.  This  made  me  encourage  my 
friend  to  draw  his  pen,  and  send  you  a  word 
of  admonicion.  And  when  he  declined  the 
task,  I  co\ild  not  forbear  undertiiking  it 
nij'self.  For  it  would  be  unkind  to  you, 
sir,  to  perceive  you  under  such  grievous 
mistakes,  and  not  to  warn  you  of  the  error 
of  your  ways.  Nor  would  it  be  less  un- 
faithful to  your  Master,  and  my  Master,  to 
be  informed  of  such  preaching,  and  suffer  it 
to  pass  current  without  any  animadversion. 

If  I  misrepresent  you  in  any  particular, 
I  am  ready  to  retract.  And  if  I  have  truth 
on  my  side,  and  you,  reverend  sir,  have 
spoken  unworthy  of  your  sacred  ofnce,  have 
dishonoured  the  divine  Redeemer,  and  per- 
verted his  everlasting  gospel,  I  trust  you 
will  also  be  so  ingenuous  as  to  condemn 
that  offensive  sermon  to  the  fiames,  and 
such  doctrines  to  silence  and  darkness.  P^or 
1  assure  you,  it  is  from  no  ill-natured  spirit 
of  criticism,  no  moroseness  of  temper,  or 
fondness  for  contradiction,  but  from  a  sin- 
cere concern  for  the  interests   of  true  reli- 


gion, and  the  honours  of  onr  common  Lord, 
that  i  take  leave  to  suggest  the  following 
hints. 

I  think  you  first  exhort(>d  people  to  re- 
joice, when  their  fircnnisrances  were  af- 
tlnent,  and  their  W(>)ldiy  aff.iirs  prosperous  ; 
you  enforcer!  this  ])alatable  advice  by  the 
pri'cepts  of  Sciipture  ;  and,  lest  it  should 
nor,  be  received  with  a  proper  welcome,  you 
further  urged  it  upon  your  hearei's  by  the 
example  of  our  blessed  Saviour.  In  oppo- 
sition to  this  strain  of  teaching,  permit  me 
to  obsei-ve, 

1 .  That  worldly  prosperity  is  no  sufficient 
cause  for  a  Christian  to  rejoice. 

2.  That  it  is  often  one  of  the  sorest  evils 
that  can  befall  a  person. 

3.  To  sketch  out  the  true  nature  of 
scriptural  prosperity ;  or  discover  what  is 
that  solid  ground  lor  rejoicing,  which  the 
oracles  of  God  recommend. 

1.  Worldly  prosperity  is  no  sufficient 
cause,  for  rej(iicing,  because  worldly  things 
are  em[)ty  andunsatisfactoiy.  That  which 
is  ligliter  than  vanity  itself,  carmot  possibly 
give  substantial  joy.  If  we  build  for  con- 
tentment on  sublunary  things,  we  rear  our 
edifice  upon  the  sinking  sand.  You  can  no 
more  bring  satisfaction  out  of  any  thing 
created,  than  you  can  carve  an  image  out  of 
the  rising  smoke,  or  fill  your  belly  with  the 
east  wind.  Those  that  rejoice  only  (and 
you,  dear  sir,  assigned  no  other  cause  for 
rejoicing),  because  they  have  abundance  of 
earthly  things  richly  to  enjoy,  are  like  some 
bewildered  and  benighted  traveller,  pierced 
with  cold,  dripping  with  wet,  that  leaps 
for  joy  because  be  finds  a  glow-worm  under 
the  hedge.  Alas  1  this  is  nowise  able  to 
direct  his  wandering  feet,  to  light  him 
thrc'iigh  the  dismal  gloom,  or  to  warm  his 
benumbed  limbs  ;  no  more  than  it  is  able 
to  supply  the  place  of  the  sun,  and  dart  its 
faint  glimmer  through  the  universe.  The 
pleasures  which  a  superior  fortune  furnish 
out,  O  how  soon  do  they  become  stale,  and 
pall  upon  the  appetite !  How  easily  may 
a  thousand  accidents  snatch  them  from  our 
embrace,  or  dash  them  to  pieces  in  our 
arms  !  How  certainly  must  we  forsake 
them  in  a  very  little  time  ;  and  when  we 
have  taken  a  few  more  pleasant  morsels,  a 
few  delicious  draughts,  cat  and  drink  again 
no  more  for  ever  !  And  what  a  wretched 
disproportionate  delight  is  this  for  an  im- 
mortal mind,  that  is  to  survive  the  dissolu- 
tion of  the  globe  ;  that  is  to  live  unnum- 
bered ages,  when  all  that  onr  eyes  have  seen 
is  jiassed  away  and  gone  ? 

Again :  Worldly  prosperity  is  no  suffi- 
cient cause  for  rejoicing,  because  a  person 
may  possess  this,  and  have  neither  faith  nor 
grace.  There  is  no  manner  of  connexion 
between  faith  and  wealth.  The  poor  fre- 
quently receive  the  gospel,  while  numbers 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


751 


of  the  rich  r«»jent  their  own  happiness.  And 
without  faith  it  is  impossible  to  please  God  ; 
it  is  unreasonable  and  unwarrantable  to  re 
joire.  The  believer,  indeed,  has  a  permis- 
sion, hiLS  a  privilege,  yea,  has  a  patent  for 
rejoicinp.  The  Christian  has  all  joy  and 
peace  in  believinfj.  All  :  you  see  here  is 
a  monopoly;  faith  has  engrossed  this  ])re- 
eious  commodity.  None  is  to  be  procured 
but  from  her.  And  as  for  grace,  talents  of 
gold  may  be  in  the  coffers,  and  not  one  grain 
of  grace  in  the  heart.  Those  that  call  whole 
lordships  their  own,  cannot,  perhaps,  say 
that  they  have  received  the  tioly  Ghost. 
And  while  they  are  destitute  of  this  divine 
principle,  I  can  call  them  nothing  but 
wretches.  You  may  add  illustrious,  right 
honourable,  and  worshipful,  if  you  please  ; 
but  still  they  are  miserable  wretches,  unless 
Christ,  the  ho])e  of  glory,  be  formed  in  tiieir 
souls.  The  Holy  Ghost,  you  know,  sir,  is 
called  the  Comibrter,  because  it  is  his 
amiable  office  to  administer  consolation  to 
liis  people.  He  giveth  joy,  and  who  can 
make  sadness  ?  liut,  alas  !  if  he  withdraw 
his  benign  influences,  who  or  what  can 
create  siitisfaction  ?  Silver  shoes  may  as 
well  charm  away  the  racking  pains  of  a 
gontitied  foot,  or  golden  dust  quench  the 
tliirst  of  a  parched  throat,  as  any  worldly 
abundance,  as  all  worldly  plenty,  beget  real 
joy,  without  the  communications  of  the 
comforting  Sjiirit.  You  forget,  sir,  the 
prayers  which  you  daily  offer  up  in  the  con- 
gregation. In  them  you  acknowledge  that 
the  world  cannot  give  peace  ;  and  if  not 
peace,  surely  not  joy  ;  if  not  the  fruit,  sure- 
ly not  the  blossom.  There  is  no  peace, 
saith  my  God,  to  the  wicked.  And  all  are 
wicked  who  are  void  of  faith,  and  unre- 
newed by  grace.  All  run  counter  to  the 
divine  declaration,  who  bid  such  persons 
rejoice,  though  they  should  have  every  kind 
of  prosperity  that  a  carnal  heart  can  wish. 

Once  more  :  "^Vorldly  prosperity  is  no 
sufficient  cause  for  rejoicing,  because  a  man 
may  possess  this,  and  be  a  child  of  wrath 
notwithstanding.  Providence  often  scatters 
temporary  things  among  the  tents  of  his 
enemies.  They  have  children  at  their  de- 
sire, and  leave  the  rest  of  their  substaiice 
for  their  babes.  These  are  husks  which 
the  swine  are  permitted  to  eat.  God's 
dearest  servants,  those  who  are  heirs  of 
glory,  are  frequently  seen  to  be  -.vithout  any 
share  of  them,  while  the  most  aband()ned 
sinners  have  them  to  the  full.  Lazarus  has 
not  a  house  to  lay  his  head  in,  while  the 
voluptuary  dwells  in  apartments  ceiled  with 
cedar,  and  painted  with  vermillion.  Laza- 
rus has  not  eno\igh  to  purchase  one  morsel 
of  meat,  must  be  beholden  to  charity  for 
the  least  crumb  of  provision  ;  while  his 
hard-hearted  neighbour  drinks  wine  in 
bowels,  and  eats  the  choicest  of  the  flock ; 


is  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and 
fareth  sumptuously  every  day.  Who  then 
can  rationally  rejoice  in  that  which  is  no 
pledge  of  the  divine  acceptance,  which  car- 
ries with  it  no  proof  of  our  reconciliation 
to  that  eternal  Majesty,  whose  smile  is  in- 
conceivable bliss,  whose  frown  is  insup- 
portable wo  ?  A  wealthy  and  succes:-,ful 
person,  if  he  be  cOT\>iderate  as  well  as  for- 
tunate, must  go  home  from  such  a  sermon, 
arguing  in  this  manner :  "  The  preacher 
solicits  me  to  rejoice  in  my  worldly  goods  ; 
but  how  can  1  find  comijlacency  in  such 
j)erishing  possessions,  when,  periiaps,  I  may 
be  an  outcast  from  heaven,  and  have  no  place 
in  that  kingdom  which  endureth  for  ever  ? 
how  can  I  take  pleasure  in  those  dainties 
which  replenish  my  table,  when  perhaps 
the  heavy  wrath  of  God  may  fall  upon  me, 
while  the  meat  is  yet  in  my  mouth  ?  This 
sumptuous  furniture,  this  glittering  equi- 
page, these  delicious  treats,  how  can  I  take 
real  satisfaction  in  them,  when,  for  ought  I 
know,  a  hand-writing  upon  the  wall  may  be 
denouncing  my  doom  ?  If  God  would  lift 
up  the  ligl:t  of  his  countenance  upon  me  ; 
if  I  was  sweetly  ascertained  of  his  good 
will,  then  I  could  rejoice  unfeignedly.  liut 
as  for  these  large  revenues,  and  tides  of 
success,  that  are  so  much  extolled  by  the 
preacher,  they  may  prove  like  the  rich  pas- 
tures that  fatten  the  ox  for  the  knife." 

Will  you  have  patience  with  me,  sir,  if 
I  proceed  to  prove, 

2.  That  worldly  prosperity  is  so  far  from 
being  an  adequate  cause  for  our  rejoicing, 
that  it  is  frefpiently  one  of  the  sorest  and 
most  mischievous  evils  ?  This,  I  am  sure, 
was  the  opinion  of  Archbishop  Usher. 
That  most  renowned  and  excellent  prelate, 
in  his  j'ounger  days,  had  a  continued  series 
of  prosperity ;  health  impaired  by  no  attacks 
of  sickness,  credit  sullied  by  no  breath  of 
scandal,  and  success  intenujited  by  no  di-;- 
appointment  or  disastrous  turn.  And  what 
emotion  did  this  occasion  in  that  devout  and 
judicious  person's  mind?  Did  his  heart 
dance  within  him  for  joy  ?  did  he  bless  him- 
self on  this  behalf?  No  ;  but  he  wa.s  under 
sad  apprehensions  lest  God  had  forsaken 
him,  and  given  him  over  to  a  reprobate 
course.  He  feared  that  his  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, because  he  spared  the  rod,  hated  the 
child  ;  that  not  being  brought  under  the  dis- 
cipline of  i)rovidential  correction,  he  was  a 
bastard,  and  not  a  son  of  the  Lord  Almighty. 
How  diametrically  opposite  was  this  way  of 
thinking  to  your  way  of  preaching  !  And, 
whether  it  was  not  a  very  sober  and  just 
method  of  thinking,  let  the  following  con- 
siderations determine. 

Worldly  i)rosperity  is  apt  to  attach  men 
to  earthly  things.  When  success  swells 
their  s;)ils,  and  all  proceeds  according  to 
I  their  wish,  O  how  prone  are  we  to  disregard 


A  COLLECTIOX  OF  LETTEPt 


Jesus,  and  everlaf^tinp;  ages  !  MiiTiy  are 
im'^-oderatcly  fond  of  the  world,  berause 
tbey  have  swnm  sweetly  down  the  stream  of 
prosperit)',  who  ])rol)nbly  would  have  been 
weaned  from  its  delights,  and  indifferent  to 
its  goods,  in  ease  they  had  toiled  upon  the 
eraggy  cliffs  of  some  intervening  adversity. 
When  they  walk  always  upon  roses,  and 
meet  with  no  thorns  in  their  paths,  the 
consequence  is  an  acquiescence  in  their  pre- 
sent station,  and  remissness  in  seeking  the 
joys  of  an  invisible  world.  A  contentment 
in  the  things  that  are  seen,  without  any  as- 
piration after  the  things  that  are  not  seen, 
is  the  most  unhappy  condition  imaginable, 
and  is  generally  the  affspring  of  worldly 
prosperity  ;  and  when  this  worldly  prospe- 
ritv  is  so  highly  rated  in  the  calculations  of 
the  ptili)it,  what  other  effect  can  possibly 
attend  such  lectures,  but  to  glew  our  affec- 
tions more  closely,  and  rivet  them  more  in- 
separably to  these  trifles  of  a  day? 

Again  :  Worldly  prosperity  is  frequently 
a  mischievous  evil,  because  it  is  apt  to  make 
men  proud.  They  come  in  no  misfortune 
like  other  folks,  says  the  Psalmist ;  and  this 
is  the  cause  that  they  are  so  holden  with 
pride.  Prosperity  is  often  a  luscious  poison. 
It  bloats  and  pulfs  men  up  with  an  over- 
weening opinion  of  themselves.  It  intoxi- 
cates the  mind,  and  makes  it  drunk  with 
self-conceit.  It  prompts  peo])le  to  idolize 
themselves,  and  contemn  others.  The  in- 
tolerable arrogance  of  the  Babylonish  mo- 
narch, what  was  it  owing  to  but  his  vast 
and  uninterrupted  successes  ?  He  measured 
his  merit  by  the  length  of  his  jnirse,  and 
challenged  a  veneration  proportionable  to 
the  extent  of  his  dominions.  This  vile  rank 
weed  thrives  in  the  hot-beds  of  honour, 
wealth,  and  carnal  pleasure ;  whereas  it 
might  never  have  reared  its  head  in  the 
colder  climate  of  tribulation  or  scantiness  of 
circumstances. 

Once  more  :  Worldly  prosperity  is  fre- 
quently a  pernicious  evil,  because  it  renders 
men  carnally  secure.  It  case-hardeTis  the 
mind  against  all  the  threatenings,  and  makes 
it  deaf  to  the  invitations  of  heavenly  wis- 
dom. It  is  a  stupifying  potion,  and  lulls 
the  soul  into  a  fatal  forgetfulness  of  ever- 
lastmg  things.  Those  that  were  lusty  and 
strong  in  our  Saviour's  days,  joined  with  the 
impious  multitude  in  despising  the  veiled 
Divinity.  But  those  who  were  diseased  in 
their  bodies,  or  disoi'dered  in  their  minds, 
with  eagerness  fell  prostrate  at  his  sacred 
feet,  and  implored  his  healing  hand.  Peri- 
isseiit  nisi  periissent.  You  cannot  but  have 
observed  various  proofs  of  this  remark  in 
the  course  of  your  ministry  ;  you  must  have 
seen  many  persons  that  rejected  all  your 
counsel,  and  would  none  of  your  rei)roof, 
while  they  washed  their  stej)s  in  butter,  and 
the  rock  pouru.l  them  out  rivers  of  oil.   But 


how  teachable  were  these  once  refractory 
v,'orldlings,  how  willing  to  hear  the  conso- 
lations of  the  gospel,  when  their  sensible 
delights  were  perished  and  gone  !  IIow 
desirous  to  be  informed  of  a  haj)piness  in 
the  heavens,  which  fadeth  not,  when  their 
carnal  pleasures  had  made  themselves  wings, 
and  were  flown  away  !  In  the  gaiety  of  their 
health,  and  abundance  of  their  plenty,  they 
were  settled  upon  the  lees  of  stri>iiiejiess. 
But  when  the  scene  was  shifted,  they  cried 
out  with  vehemence.  What  must  we  do  to 
be  saved  ?  This  I  mj-self  have  frefpiently 
remarked  in  the  short  compass  of  my  expe- 
rience. Men  who  were  like  an  iron  sinew 
in  their  flourishing  condition,  have  been 
impressible  as  rnelting  wax  in  a  reverse  of 
fortune. 

We  see,  then,  that  the  prosperity  of  this 
world  is  always  dangerous,  often  pernicious, 
and  too  frequently  destructive.  It  yields 
pleasures  that  infatuate,  sweets  that  are  im- 
poisoned,  delights  that  stupify,  insomuch, 
that  a  heathen  could  say,  JVildl  infelicius  illo, 
cut  iiiJdl  infelix  conti(/it. 

Plere,  it  may  be  asked.  Are  we  to  take 
no  comfort  in  our  portion  on  earth?  must 
we  become  gloomy  aixl  melancholy,  and  ga 
mourning  all  our  days  ?  Far,  far  from  it. 
Religion  allows  us,  religion  enables  us,  re- 
ligion requires  us  to  be  joyful.  Yea,  it  gives 
its  faithful  adherents  to  rejoice  with  joy 
unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  But  then,  it 
is  founded  on  a  principle  vastly  superior  to 
that  which  you,  sir,  thought  lit  to  single 
out  and  display.  It  springs  from  a  source, 
and  rests  on  a  basis,  that  has  no  manner  of 
dependence  on  worldly  circumstances.  Which 
reminds  me  of  another  point  I  am  engaged 
to  clear  up,  viz. 

The  true  nature  of  scriptural  prosperity. 
The  scripture  is  a  spiritual  scheme.  Spi- 
ritual goods  are  what  it  chiefly  recommends, 
and  from  spiritual  evils  it  chiefly  deters. 
Christ's  words  are  spiritual ;  tending  to 
make  men  not  carnally  minded,  but  spirit- 
ually minded ;  to  render  them  spiritual  in 
their  iniderstandings,  their  affections,  their 
conduct.  Insomuch,  that  one  need  not 
scruple  to  aftirm  constantly.  That  the  holy 
Scripture  never  calls  that  state  a  state  of 
prosperity  which  is  not  grounded  on  the  fa- 
vour of  God  ;  nor  ever  encourages  people 
to  rejoice  in  any  thing  till  they  are  recon- 
ciled to  God,  interested  in  Christ,  and  re- 
newed by  the  Holy  Ghost ;  which,  I  think, 
constitute  the  scriptural  prosperity ;  I  am 
sure  are  the  groimdwork  of  all  happiness. 
First,  for  reconciliation  to  God.  His  fa- 
vour is  better  than  life.  Life  itself  is 
worthless,  and  consequently  all  its  enjoy- 
ments, without  this  prime  fundamental  bless- 
ing. For  this  cause  the  Prince  of  Peace 
bled  to  death,  that  the  handwriting  of  guilt 
might  be  blotted  out ;  that  the  wrath  of 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


753 


God  mifflit  be  appeiised ;  and  that  \vc  who 
were  enemies  might  be  brought  near  throiigli 
his  blood.  This  is  the  door  to  all  good. 
Enter  in  by  this  gate,  O  ye  sons  of  men, 
or  else  you  will  inevitably  miscarry  in  your 
search  alter  felicity.  If  you  seek  for  bliss, 
and  bottom  not  your  expectations  on  this 
rock,  you  are  sure  to  be  disappointed  of  your 
hope.  I  can  no  more  have  true  comfort  in 
any  possession,  till  I  have  redemption 
through  my  Redeemer's  passion,  than  that 
unfortunate  captive  could  rejoice  in  the 
royal  banquet  that  was  before  him,  when  a 
ponderous  sword,  edged  and  unsheathed, 
was  hanging  by  a  slender  thread,  and  shak- 
ing every  moment  over  his  head.  An  in- 
terest in  Christ ;  This  is  another  pillar  to 
.•support  our  felicity.  Therefore  our  blessed 
Lord,  directing  us  in  the  way  of  our  true 
good,  says,  "  Seek  ye  the  kingdom  of  God, 
and  his  righteousness."  The  everlasting 
kingdom  of  heaven  as  the  end,  and  the  im- 
puted righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ  as  the 
way.  Till  the  one  is  our  actual  possession, 
and  the  other  our  certain  reversion,  we  may 
look  for  real  satisfaction,  but  shidl  iind 
none.  Apply  to  all  the  creatures,  ride  all 
their  charms,  taste  all  their  sweets,  you  will 
perceive  them  to  be  altogether  lighter  than 
vanity  itself,  without/an  union  with  Christ, 
and  an  establishment  in  his  merits.  Reno- 
vation of  mind  is  another  ingredient  of  the 
prosperity  delineated  in  Scripture.  Till 
the  sold  be  sanctified,  it  is  in  a  state  of 
grievous  disorder  ;  like  a  body,  all  whose 
bones  are  out  of  joint.  And  oh  !  what  joy 
can  be  tasted  in  such  a  condition  ?  Till 
divine  grace  have  the  ascendant  within  us, 
till  the  kingdom  of  God  be  set  up  in  our 
hearts,  we  are  in  bondage  to  conniption. 
Vile  affections  domineer  over  us.  The  de- 
vil and  our  own  lusts  play  the  tyrant  in  our 
breasts.  We  are  like  slaves  under  a  galling 
yoke,  and  like  lepers  under  a  noisome  dis- 
temper. Therefore  the  Psalmist  says. 
When  I  awake  up  after  thy  likeness,  I  shall 
be  satisfied  with  it.  Till  thy  image  be  re- 
stamped  upon  my  heart,  I  never  expect  to 
see  good.  While  we  are  in  the  bond  of 
iniquity,  we  must  infallibly  be  in  the  gall  of 
bitterness. 

This  is  the  prosperity  celebrated  in  the 
Scriptures.  Of  tliis  every  believer  is  a  ])ar- 
taker ;  and  you  will  please  to  remember, 
that  every  exhortation  to  rejoicing,  which 
we  meet  with  in  those  inspii-ed  books,  is 
addressed  to  such  persons  only.  They  give 
not  the  least  invitation  to  any  one,  no,  nor 
the  least  license  to  rest  satisfied,  much  less 
to  rejoice,  till  they  are  brought  into  such 
circumstanccsof  reconciliation  with  Heaven, 
and  renovation  of  mind.  Nor  have  you,  sir, 
any  warrant  to  say  to  yomself,  or  your  peo- 
ple. Soul,  take  thine  case,  eat,  drink,  and 
be  merry,  because  thou  hast  umch  goods  laid 


up  for  many  years.  This  is  the  epicure's 
creed.  The  lively  oracles  bear  their  testi- 
mony against  such  conclusions.  They  style 
all  the  unregenerate,  fools ;  and  to  such, 
worldly  abundance  is  not  matter  for  mirth, 
but  matter  of  ruin :  for  the  prosperity  of 
fools  shall  destroy  them.  Be  they  grand  as 
Nebuchadnezzar,  in  as  much  affluence  as 
Ahiisuerus,  honoured  as  Herod  was  by  the 
applauding  multitude,  yet  every  page  of 
Scripture  says  to  them,  as  Jehu  to  Joram's 
messenger.  What  hast  thou  to  do  with 
peace  ?  And  however  some  smooth-  tongned 
preachers  may  Hatter  and  cajole  them  in 
their  pomp,  however  they  may  prophecy 
smooth  things,  and  solicit  them  to  rejoice  on 
such  a  footing  as  the  Lord  has  not  made  a 
ground  for  rejoicing,  yet  an  apostle  bespeaks 
them  in  very  different  language  :  Go  to  now, 
ye  rich  men,  weep  and  howl.  The  Teach- 
er sent  from  God  has  other  tidings  to  tell 
them  :  Wo  unto  you  that  are  rich,  that  are 
full,  for  ye  have  your  consolation,  ye  shall 
hunger  hereafter.  And,  in  another  world, 
they  may  hear  this  awful  admonition  sound- 
ing in  their  years.  Son,  remember  that  thou 
in  thy  lifetime  receivedst  thy  good  things  : 
thy  good  things,  those  which  tiiou  account- 
edst  good,  not  that  really  were  good,  but 
only  appeared  so  to  thy  distempered  judg- 
ment and  vitiated  taste. 

Surely,  sir,  it  must  have  been  perfectly 
prudent,  or  rather  absolutely  necessary,  to 
caution  your  audience  against  so  fatal  a 
mistake  ;  especially  since  they  consist  of  the 
ga,y,  the  grand,  the  pleasurable.  A  vigilant 
minister  woiUd  certiiinly  give  them  to  un- 
derstand, that  wealth  and  plenty  is  by  no 
means  the  prosperity  which  the  Spint  of 
God  commends  ;  that  joy,  without  thfe  lov- 
ing-kindness of  the  Lord,  is  a  mere  chime- 
ra ;  that  none  are  entitled  to  this  medicine 
of  life  but  those  who  can  lay  their  hand  up- 
on  their  hearts,  and  say,  with  a  faith  un- 
feigned, My  sins  are  all  forgiven  through 
the  atonement  of  the  slaughtered  Lamb ; 
my  peace  is  made  with  the  eternal  (iod, 
and  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  Christ  dwells  in  me. 
This  is  that  which  justifies,  which  produces 
joy.  Then,  indeed,  and  not  till  then,  the 
wise  man's  advice  may  be  thy  practice.  Go 
thy  way,  eat  thy  bread  with  joy,  and  drink 
thy  wine  with  a  merry  heart,  lor  God  now 
accepteth  both  thee  and  thy  works.  Then 
thou  mayest  take  comfort  ni  thy  earthly  ac- 
commodations, as  so  many  little  appendages 
of  thy  bliss  ;  not  as  the  essence  which  con- 
stitutes it,  but  as  the  cenu>nt  which  serves 
to  till  uj)  some  little  interstices,  and  renders 
the  whole  somewhat  more  compact.  And 
even  in  this  case,  our  blessed  JVlaster  (who 
bid  his  disciples  not  to  rejoice  because  the 
denls  were  subject  luito  them,  but  because 
their  names  were  written  in  heaven)  would 
probably  caution  us  not  to  rejoice  because 
3  c 


754 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


we  have  all  worldly  things  copiously  to  en- 
joy, but  because  we  are  pardoned,  we  are 
justified,  we  are  sanctified. 

Upon  the  whole,  suppose  worldly  pros- 
perity was  not  oftentimes  a  most  mischiev- 
ous evdl,  which  it  undoubtedly  is ;  suppose 
it  was  a  substantial  ground  for  Christian 
rejoicing,  which  it  really  is  not ;  suppose 
this  was  the  scriptural  prosperity,  which  no- 
tion is,  I  trust,  sufficiently  disproved ;  in  a 
word,  suppose  the  whole  tenor  of  your  doc- 
trine to  be  true,  whereas  it  seems  to  be  pal- 
pably false  ;  yet  what  good,  in  the  name  of 
wonder,  can  you  possibly  propose  by  such 
preachments  ?  You  cannot  but  be  sensi- 
ble that  we  are  all  strongly  addicted  to  infe- 
rior things.  We  are  already  too  fond  of 
worldly  goods,  too  impetuous  in  our  pursuit 
of  sensual  gratifications.  We  want,  we  ex- 
tremely want  a  curb,  to  check  our  career, 
and  you  clap  a  spur  on  our  sides.  You  em- 
ploy your  eloquence  as  a  provocative  in  a 
case  that  cries  aloud  for  restrictives.  Alas  ! 
sir,  you  have  no  occasion  to  push  the  head- 
long torrent !  But  I  have  done  with  this 
point ;  have  nothing  more  to  add  upon  this 
head,  unless  it  be  to  recommend  to  your  se- 
rious consideration  that  alarming  verdict 
pronounced  by  infinite  wisdom.  He  that 
liveth  in  pleasure  is  dead  while  he  liveth  ; 
dead  to  God,  dead  to  grace ;  a  dead  Chris- 
tian, though  a  living  animal.  Compare,  re- 
verend sir,  this  declaration  with  the  tenden- 
cy of  your  doctrine.  Then,  I  assure  my- 
self, you  will  not  redden  with  indignation  at 
these  plain  remonstrances  ;  but  rather  (as  I 
should  in  your  case)  turn  pale  with  grief  at 
your  past  teachings,  and  tremble  with  fear 
for  the  consequences  of  them. 

Thus  much  for  your  divinity  :  Now,  sir, 
if  you  please,  for  your  logic.  We  have  can- 
vassed your  doctrine ;  let  us  next  consider 
the  argument  with  which  you  establish  it. 
This  is,  if  possible,  ten  thousand  times  more 
exceptionable  than  the  tenet  itself.  For, 
after  having  told  your  audience,  that  the  car- 
nal delight  which  you  so  earnestly  press  to 
take,  is  agreeable  to  the  reason  of  things, 
is  consonant  to  the  designs  of  Providence, 
you  think  pi'oper  to  add,  that  it  is  also 
countenanced  by  our  Saviour's  example ; 
since,  at  a  certain  marriage-feast,  when  the 
wine  fell  short,  he  wrought  a  miracle,  and 
furnished  them  with  a  fresh  supply,  on  pur- 
pose— that  the  mirth  might  not  die.  This 
was  your  expression.  And,  surely,  a  more 
shocking  one  never  came  from  a  preacher's 
lips.  Was  ever  so  abject  and  scurxy  a  rea- 
son assigned  for  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
actions  ?  Could  any  debauched  libertine,  at 
a  drunken  club,  have  derogated  more  con- 
tumeliously  from  the  dignity  of  our  Lord's 
behaviour  ?  Jesus,  the  mirror  of  purity,  the 
fountain  of  wisdom,  of  whom  it  is  testified 
that  he  did  all  things  well ;  this   wise  and 


glorious  Being  is  represented,  not  by  an 
abandoned  sot,  but  by  a  minister  of  the  gos- 
pel, as  exerting  his  omnipotence  to  prolong 
a  merry  bout.  O  that  it  might  not  l)e  told 
in  Gath,  or  published  in  the  streets  of  Aske- 
lon  !  Jiiitjfugit  irrevocahile  verbum ;  you  can- 
not revoke  the  words.  The  only  repara- 
tion you  can  make  to  the  injured  Jesus,  or 
the  offended  Christian,  is  to  give  us  a  ser- 
mon of  recantation,  and  antidote  the  poison 
that  has  been  propagated. 

But  I  would  hope  it  is  too  gross  to  spread. 
That  the  mirth  might  not  die,  is  an  asser- 
tion that  must  startle  every  hearer.  Why, 
this  a  common  vintner  might  have  prevent- 
ed, as  well  as  an  Almighty  Being:  a  few 
flasks  from  the  tavern  would  have  answered 
this  end.  Most  ignoble  purpose !  unwor- 
thy, altogether  unworthy  so  august,  divine, 
and  admirable  a  person.  Oh  what  a  handle 
does  this  yield  to  infidels  for  profane  banter  ! 
That  Jesus  should  descend  from  the  heaven 
of  heavens,  and  come  into  the  lower  world, 
vested  with  incontrollable  power,  on  so  poor, 
grovelling,  and  sordid  an  errand  !  That  part 
of  his  business  in  the  state  of  humanity 
should  be  to  guard  against  the  extinction  of 
such  idle  mirth  as  owes  its  birth  to  a  bottle  ! 
The  soldiers  that  stripped  our  Lord  of  his 
apparel,  and  mocked  his  sacred  person  ;  that 
spit  upon  his  blessed  face,  buffeted  his  di- 
vine head,  and  loaded  him  with  all  manner 
of  scurrilities  and  indignities,  did  not  com- 
mit, (in  my  opinion)  so  flagrant  an  abuse,  as 
a  modern  preacher  in  one  of  his  studied  so- 
lemn harangues.  They  took  him  to  be  a 
mere  man  ;  they  pronounced  him  a  vile 
man  ;  and  therefore  offered  him  such  op- 
probrious affronts.  But  you,  sir,  acknow- 
ledge him  to  be  God ;  you  know  him  to  be 
infinitely  wise  ;  and  yet  make  him  a  lacquey 
to  the  most  errant  ti-ifles,  a  drudge  to  men's 
carnal  indulgences.  Suppose  both  our 
houses  of  parliament,  after  the  maturest 
deliberation,  should  employ  the  whole  army 
of  the  nation  to  clear  away  all  obstructions 
for  a  butterfly  in  her  flowery  range,  or  to  see 
that  a  silly  kitten  goes  on  unmolested  in  her 
sportive  gambols ;  would  you  extol  the  wis- 
dom of  our  senators ;  would  you  not  cry 
shame  upon  their  conduct  ?  Now,  your  as- 
sertion is  full  as  depreciatory  to  the  consum- 
mate prudence  and  exemplary  purity  of  our 
divine  Master ;  since  you  set  them  both  on 
work,  joined  with  irresistible  might,  only  to 
furnish  out  a  little  more  gaiety,  a  little  more 
laughter,  to  a  set  of  carousers,  whom  you  de» 
scribe  as  pretty  well  in  for  it  already. 

That  the  mirth  might  not  die  !  That 
is,  that  those  who  were  already  made  merry 
with  liquor  might  go  on  in  their  jovial 
delights,  till  they  added  drunkenness  to  their 
thirst.  For  when  people  are  thus  exhil- 
arated, to  take  fresh  draughts,  and  pour 
down  more  wine,  must  indeed  make  them. 


A  COLLECTtON  OF  LETTERS. 


as  n  professed  scomev  profanely  expresses  ' 
liiniseU"  on  this  very  occasion,  more  than 
half  seas  over.  So  that,  when  you  give  an 
evasive  flourish  or  two,  and  would  have 
your  hearers  to  believe  that  you  are  no  ad- 
voeate  for  intemperance,  it  is  plain  you  are 
only  complimenting  the  cause  of  sobriety. 
This  interpretation  put  upon  our  Lord's 
conduct,  knocks  all  such  sham  pretences 
on  the  head.  For  if  he  wrought  the  miracle 
with  such  a  view,  and  for  such  sort  of 
people,  all  the  world  cannot  clear  him  from 
being  a  promoter  of  excess  ;  and,  if  he  did 
not,  all  the  world  cannot  acquit  you,  sir, 
from  the  most  abusive  misrepresentations 
of  your  Redeemer. 

That  the  mirth  might  not  die !  What 
could  a  lewd  rake  have  done,  at  his  riotous 
table,  worse  than  that  which  you  ascribe  to 
the  pattern  of  all  perfection  ?  My  blood 
grows  chill ;  my  thoughts  recoil  at  so  horrid 
a  position.  Any  gentleman  of  tolerable 
seriousness,  when  he  perceives  his  friends 
are  got  merry  with  his  drink,  would  rather 
withdraw  the  glass  than  add  fuel  to  the 
flame.  For  my  part,  I  should  think  my- 
self an  abettor  of  excess,  and  little  better 
than  a  pimp  for  debauchery,  if,  when  men 
are  merry  in  their  cups,  I  should  supply 
them  with  means  of  driving  on  the  wanton 
humour.  And  yet,  be  amazed,  O  ye  hea- 
vens, and  be  horribly  afraid,  O  earth  !  a 
minister,  in  the  midst  of  a  thronged  congre- 
gation, charges  this  very  practice  upon  the 
most  immaculate  Lamb  of  God  !  O  sir, 
how  could  he  who  came  to  be  our  sanctifi- 
cation,  administer  to  our  inordinate  gratifi- 
cations? how  could  he,  who  has  enjoined 
us  not  to  make  provision  for  the  flesh  to 
fulfil  the  lusts  thereof,  be  instrumental  to 
continue  a  luxurious  revel  ?  O  blessed 
Jesus,  surely  that  is  fulfilled  which  was 
spoken  by  thy  prophet,  "  Thou  art  wounded 
in  the  house  of  thy  friends."  Thy  charac- 
ter is  debased,  thy  doctrines  adulterated,  by 
those  who  profess  themselves  adorers  of 
the  one,  and  expounders  of  the  other.  Oh  ! 
that  ever  the  Christian  pulpit  should  be- 
come a  porch  to  the  temple  of  Bacchus  ! 
and  a  Christian  preacher  act  the  part  of  a 
purveyor  for  the  tippling-house  ! 

Do  you  intend  to  please,  sir,  or  to  pro- 
fit your  audience  by  these  admonitions? 
You  can  please  none  but  men  of  corrupt 
minds,  whose  god  is  their  belly,  who  mind 
earthly  things.  You  can  profit  none  but 
those  whose  heaven  is  to  be  found  in  the 
juice  of  the  gra])e.  They  can  serve  no 
other  end  but  to  give  a  sort  of  sanction  to 
their  extravagancies.  Your  lectures,  per- 
haps, may  be  recollected  with  applause  on 
iui  ale-bench,  and  pleaded  among  a  circle  of 
jolly  topers.  But  I  assure  you,  sir,  they 
are  heard  by  the  serious  and  devout  with 
the  utmost  sorrow,  iuid  with  equal  detesta- 


tion. Their  ears  are  wounded,  and  their 
hearts  bleed  under  the  sound  of  such  bac- 
chanalian doctrines. 

May  I  now  be  permitted  to  declare  my 
sentiments  with  regard  to  that  passage  of 
Scripture  which  you  have  so  unhappily 
perverted  ? 

As  to  the  mirth  you  seem  so  fond  of, 
there  is  no  mention  of  it  in  the  sacred  nar- 
rative. For  Christ  went  not  about  to  spread 
the  laugh  among  his  company,  but  to  make 
them  serious,  sober,  and  wise  unto  salvation. 
If  he  vouchsafed  his  presence  at  entertain- 
ments, and  sat  at  the  tables  of  sinners,  it 
was  with  a  gracious  design  of  instructing 
and  converting  them  in  their  own  houses. 
He  came  to  feasts  in  the  same  spirit,  and 
for  the  same  purposes,  as  he  came  into  the 
world  ;  to  turn  poor  mankind  from  darkness 
unto  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan 
unto  God  ;  so  that  none  can  imagine,  when 
he  was  in  the  room,  that  there  could  be  any 
thing  like  that  licentious  diversion  which 
too  generally  prevails  in  ourmerry-meetings. 
If  they  did  rejoice,  they  rejoiced  doubtless 
after  a  godly  sort :  They  rejoiced  in  the 
precious  and  instructive  words  that  dropped 
from  Christ's  lips,  as  sweets  from  an  honey- 
comb :  They  rejoiced  to  have  so  divine  a 
prophet  raised  up  unto  God's  people,  and 
to  have  the  honour  of  so  illustrious  a  per- 
sonage amongst  them  :  They  rejoiced, 
without  all  peradventure,  to  see,  and  hear, 
and  handle  the  word  of  life. 

As  for  that  expression,  which  we  trans- 
late well  drunk,  ft,i6us6uiriv,  profane  wits,  I 
know,  raise  mighty  triumphs  upon  it ;  but 
in  ti'uth,  they  are  Babel  buildings,  and 
proofs  of  nothing  but  their  own  folly.  They 
thereby  give  us  to  luiderstand,  that  their 
want  of  sense  is  as  unquestionable  as  their 
malignity  to  Christianity.  For  surely  they 
must  be  full  as  errant  idiots,  as  they  are 
shameless  sots,  who  can  oflfer  to  fetch  the 
least  shadow  of  a  plea  for  riotous  indul- 
gencies  from  this  passage ;  since,  let 
the  meaning  of  the  word  be  ever  so  loose 
and  exceptionable,  yet  nothing  can  be  con- 
cluded from  thence  against  the  economy 
and  decorum  of  that  entertainment,  because 
the  governor  spe;dis  only  of  the  usual  cus- 
tom at  other  treats.  He  says  not  a  word, 
good  or  bad,  of  the  guests  that  were  pre- 
sent at  that  bridal  festival.  It  must,  there- 
fore, be  not  only  precarious,  but  ridiculous 
and  absurd,  to  infer  the  disorderly  proceed- 
ings of  those  j)eople,  from  what  the  ruler 
observes  concerning  others.  I  once  was 
acquamted  with  a  worthy  gentleman,  who 
frequently  invited  to  his  table  the  young 
persons  of  his  neighbourhood,  and  would 
take  a  pleasure  in  instilling  or  ciUtivating 
in  their  minds  the  principles  of  sobriety, 
industry,  and  ])iety.  Now,  m  case  he  had 
Siiid,   after  supper  was  removed,  "  I  knovr 


75« 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


very  well,  my  honest  neighbours,  it  is  cus- 
tomary with  some  persons  of  fortune  both 
to  please  and  pride  themselves  in  making 
their  visitants  drunk.  They  push  the  glass 
briskly  round,  and  press  one  bumper  upon 
another,  till  they  send  their  guests  stagger- 
ing to  bed."  But  now,  would  any  one  be 
so  stupid  as  to  infer  from  this  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  practice  of  others,  that  this  was 
also  the  practice  of  my  friend  ?  Yet  this 
they  may  do  with  as  much  justness  and 
solidity  of  reasoning,  as  deduce  any  maxim 
in  favour  of  excess  from  the  speech  of  the 
Architriclinus,  or  master  of  the  feast. 

Evident,  I  think,  it  is,  that  this  expres- 
sion, whatever  be  its  exact  import,  is  in  no 
wise  referable  to  the  condition  of  those 
guests  ;  so  that  we  allow  our  adversaries  too 
much  advantage,  by  admitting  any  of  their 
remarks  upon  its  signification.  We  should 
wrest  this  weapon  out  of  their  hands,  which 
they  brandish  so  formidably,  rather  than 
guard  against  its  strokes.  But  in  case  it 
was  applicable  to  them,  yet  it  is  most  mon- 
strous to  suppose  it  significant  of  the  least 
deviation  from  temperance.  For  had  we 
not  known  the  company  to  be  of  the  most 
exemplary  behavioiu"  and  heavenly-minded 
spirit ;  had  they  been  a  parcel  of  irreligious 
and  lewd  fellows,  instead  of  the  virgin-mo- 
ther and  the  Redeemer's  disciples,  yet  it 
would  be  impossible  to  conceive,  that  any 
thing  which  had  the  least  approach  towards 
surfeiting  and  drunkenness  should  be  toler- 
ated, when  Jesus  himself  was  in  the  midst 
of  them.  Before  so  venerable  and  divine 
a  person,  they  would  not  dare  to  allow 
themselves  in  any  misbecoming  indulgences, 
or  indecencies  of  carriage.  Besides,  had 
their  inclinations  been  ever  so  abandoned 
or  impetuous,  his  eternal  power  and  God- 
head would  have  restrained  them.  He  that 
intimidated  the  sacrilegious  rabble  when 
they  profaned  the  temple,  and  drove  them 
before  his  single  scourge ;  he  that  struck 
prostrate  to  the  ground  a  whole  band  of 
armed  men  only  with  his  word ;  he  that 
had  all  hearts  in  his  hand,  and  could  manage 
them  as  he  pleased, — would  doubtless  have 
forbid,  at  this  juncture,  whatever  bordered 
upon  dissoluteness. 

Should  any  one  injjqjire,  for  what  cause, 
then,  did  Christ  wor^his  miracle,  if  not 
to  revive  the  dying  mirth  ?  I  answer,  se- 
veral noble  reasons  are  assignable  and  ob- 
vious. 

One,  To  furnish  a  supply  for  fresh 
guests,  which  on  those  occasions  were  con- 
tinually pouring  in  ;  that  the  feast  might 
be  prolonged  to  its  usual  period,  and  all 
that  came  might  be  moderately  refreshed. 
For  I  can  by  no  means  imagine  that  this 
fresh  supply  was  intended  for  those  who 
had  ciieered  themselves  already  with  a  suf- 
ficient quantity.      This  indeed  is  what  your 


sermon  takes  for  granted,  or  else  yonr  apt- 
plication  of  this  fact  is  frivolous  and  imper- 
tinent. But  I  promise  myself,  when  you 
give  it  a  second  consideration,  you  will 
wonder  how  so  unworthy  a  thought  should 
come  into  your  mind,  and  be  sorry  that  it 
should  ever  proceed  from  your  lips,  since 
it  is  so  entirely  repugnant  to  the  whole 
character,  conduct,  and  preaching  of  our 
Lord  Jesus. 

Another  reason  might  be.  To  reward  the 
married  pair  for  their  hospitality  to  himself 
and  his  followers ;  To  give  early  notice  to 
the  world  that  none  should  be  losers  by 
showing  kindness  to  him  or  his  :  That 
every  piece  of  respect  paid  to  Jesus,  and 
every  kindness  exercised  towards  his  fami- 
ly, should  meet  with  a  full  recompense  of 
reward.  Thus  did  he  prepare  an  extensive 
fund  for  those  who  hatJ  forsaken  houses, 
lands,  relations,  and  their  earthly  all  for  his 
sake  ;  prepare  a  fund  for  their  subsistence, 
by  disposing  people  to  entertain  and  accom- 
modate them,  when  they  should  be  sent 
forth  without  staff,  or  scrip,  or  money  in 
their  purses. 

Another  cause,  and  that  which  is  re- 
marked by  the  holy  historian,  was,  to 
manifest  forth  his  glory ;  to  give  a  most 
conspicuous  display  of  his  Messiahship. 
He  opened,  as  it  were,  his  commission, 
and  showed  his  divine  credentials  ;  which 
was  done  with  perfect  propriety,  in  a  public 
manner,  before  more  spectators  than  his 
own  attendants :  and  whatever  effect  it 
might  have  upon  others,  it  confirmed  the 
faith  of  his  disciples.  Seeing  this  incon- 
testable proof  of  his  mission,  it  is  said,  they 
believed  on  him  ;  and  were  thenceforth  in- 
violably attached  to  his  person  and  minis- 
try. 

Other  reasons  may  be  suggested,  and 
those  exceeding  sound  and  useful,  such  as 
point  out  a  noble  and  deep  significancy  in 
this  miracle ;  make  it  rich  with  divine  and 
spiritual  meaning ;  and  upon  this  footing,  a 
more  delicious  feast  for  our  souls,  than 
wines  of  the  finest  flavour,  and  most  gener- 
ous quality,  are  to  our  animal  nature. 

For  instance,  it  might  signify  the  super- 
ior richness  of  those  comforts  which  his 
gospel  was  introducing  into  the  world  ; 
that  they  exceeded  those  broached  by 
Moses  and  the  law,  as  much  as  the  pure 
blood  of  the  grape  excels  the  water  of  our 
common  wells  :  That  his  flesh  and  blood 
would  be  a  sovereign  source  of  alacrity  and 
consolation  to  his  people  ;  gladden  and  re- 
vive their  hearts,  like  some  exquisite  cor- 
dial ;  strengthen  and  invigorate  their  minds 
like  the  best-bodied  wines. 

This  particular  season  of  a  marraige  ce- 
remony was  probably  chosen,  in  order  to  in- 
timate the  necessity  of  being  espoused  and 
united  to  Christ,  before  we  can  be  partakers 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


757 


»f  these  evangelical  delights.  Divorced  we 
must  be  from  our  old  husband,  the  law ; 
divorced  from  the  covenant  of  works  ;  and 
no  longer  wedded,  by  self-opinionativeness, 
to  our  own  righteousness  ;  but  married,  by 
the  bond  of  a  lively  faith,  to  that  everlasting 
Bridegroom,  in  order  to  taste  those  com- 
forts, and  have  our  share  in  those  joys. 

A  reason  fixed  upon  by  our  church  is, 
That  Christ  would  hereby  put  an  honour 
upon  the  matrimonial  state,  by  gracing  the 
solemnity  with  his  sacred  company,  and 
performing  his  first  public  miracle  on  this 
occasion.  A  fine  admonition  this,  to  ren- 
der us  more  than  ordinarily  solicitous  to 
have  the  favourable  concurrence  of  Jesus, 
both  when  we  devise,  and  when  we  take  so 
important  a  step  ;  because  the  tranquillity 
and  happiness  of  our  subsequent  life  de- 
pends very  much  on  this  alteration  of  our 
condition-  That  we  should,  by  all  means, 
marry  in  the  Lord,  and  implore  his  spiritual 
gracious  presence  at  the  wedding,  which 
will  improve  the  advantages,  and  sanctify 
the  enjoyments  of  that  comfortable  state  ; 
will,  as  it  is  delicately  figured  out  in  the 
metaphor,  turn  our  water  into  wine. 

It  might  also  be  intended  to  remind  us, 
that  the  comforts,  even  of  animal  life,  were 
recovered  by  the  second  Adam,  as  they  were 
forfeited  by  the  first  Adam.  When  our 
first  parents  were  guilty  of  rebellion  against 
their  Maker,  they  lost  all  right  to  the  val- 
uable productions  of  nature.  This  indeed 
was  their  dowry  originally  settled  upon 
them  ,  but  by  their  disloyalty  it  became 
confiscated.  Justice  seized  upon  their  in- 
heritance, and  vengeance  said.  Cursed  be 
the  ground  for  your  sakes.  Christ,  in  this 
exigency,  immediately  interposed  ;  took  off 
the  attainder,  and  restored  to  poor  Adam 
and  his  posterity  the  precious  fruits  of  the 
earth.  These  blessings,  derived  from 
Christ's  mediation,  were  very  properly  re- 
cognised at  a  wedding  ;  because,  straight- 
way after  the  marriage  of  the  first  couple, 
they  were  alienated  and  sequestered. 

This,  sir,  is  a  way  of  expounding  our  Re- 
deemer's miracles,  well  worthy  your  consi- 
deration, if  not  your  imitation.  in  this 
light  they  appear,  not  barely  so  many  wit- 
nesMV  of  his  being  the  Messiah,  but  so 
maTI^  living  mirrors  of  his  mediatorial  mer- 
cies, in  which  we  discern  a  most  expressive 
figure  of  those  spiritual  good  things  which 
we  extremely  want,  and  may  fully  enjoy 
through  Jesus  Christ.  The  marvellous 
things  brought  to  pass  by  the  agency  of  pro- 
phets, apostles,  and  holy  men  of  old,  were 
indisputable  vouchers  for  their  being  sent  of 
God.  Rut  our  Redeemer's  works  had  a 
farther  excellency,  and  answered  a  diviner 
end  ;  They  held  forth  and  presented,  even 
to  the  senses,  a  most  striking  pattern  of 
those  spiritual  blessings  which  sinners  may 


enjoy  through  their  Saviour.  Thus,  when 
he  cured  the  man  born  blind,  what  did  this 
signify  but  his  healing  the  blindness  of  our 
imderstandings,  and  pouring  the  day  of  his 
glorious  gospel  upon  our  internal  sight  ? 
When  he  made  the  poor  paralytic  strong 
and  vigorous,  that  was  not  able  to  turn 
himself  on  his  bed,  or  to  use  his  limbs,  what 
a  lively  emblem  was  here,  both  of  our 
disease,  and  of  his  sovereign  help  ?  Of  our 
disease,  whereby  we  are  utterly  impotent  to 
do  a  good  work,  or  think  a  good  thought  ; 
of  his  sovereign  help,  whereby  we  are  ena- 
bled to  do  all  things  through  Christ  strength-, 
ening  us  ;  enabled  to  believe  through  his 
grace,  and  to  mortify  our  corruptions 
through  his  Spirit.  Was  not  the  filthy  le- 
per a  true  picture  of  our  loathsomeness, 
through  original  defilement,  and  actual, 
transgressions  ?  And  when  our  Redeemer 
disdained  not  to  touch  this  noisome  crea- 
ture, and  make  him  perfectly  clean,  how 
appositely  did  this  image  point  out  the  con- 
descension of  his  goodness  in  undertaking 
our  redemption,  and  the  efficacy  of  his  blood 
in  accomplishing  our  purification  ?  I  might 
go  through  the  whole  series  of  our  Lord's 
miracles,  and  discover  in  them  a  most  sig- 
nificant and  complete  portraiture  of  all  man- 
ner of  spiritual  blessings  ;  but  the  foregoing 
instances  shall  suffice.  From  these  hints, 
we  may  discern  an  adorable  depth  of  de- 
sign ;  unsearchable  treasures  of  contri- 
vance, as  well  as  beneficence,  in  those 
operations  of  his  mighty  power.  Which, 
noble  peculiarity  gives  them  a  vast  pre-emi- 
nence above  all  the  miracles  in  Egypt,  and 
the  wonders  in  the  field  of  Zoan  :  renders 
them  so  many  fine  representations  of  the 
deliverances  and'privileges  enjoyable  through 
our  ever-blessed  Immanuel ;  in  a  word, 
renders  them  a  kind  of  gospel  that  address- 
es itself  even  to  our  eyes  ;  and  so  most 
wisely  calculated,  both  to  direct  our  hopes, 
and  strengthen  our  faith  in  the  incarnate 
God.     I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XVIIL 

Bath,  1743. 
Dear  Madam, — At  Bath  I  have  tarried 
thus  long,  but  purpose  to  set  forward  for 
my  father's  house,  if  I  live  till  next  week  ; 
and  if  I  have  as  good  a  journey  thither,  as  I 
had  to  this  place,  I  shall  have  cause  to  be' 
very  thankful  to  that  gracious  Providence, 
which  blesses  our  going  out  and  our  com- 
ing in  ;  which  protects  us  from  wrong  and 
robbery,  from  evil  accidents  and  dangers,  as 
with  a  shield.     I  hope   you,  madam,  and 

Mr.  ,  are  well,  and   should  rejoice  to 

hear  of  you  both  being   partakers   of  that 
which  I  wish  you  to  enjoy;  and  none  can 


758 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


be  said  truly  to  enjoy  health,  but  those  who 
improve  it  to  the  purpose  :  all  others  waste 
health,  embezzle  it,  squander  it  away ;  all 
but  those  who  use  it  as  a  precious  oppor- 
tunity of  making  their  calling  and  election 
sure.  We  have  had  most  delicate  weather 
for  the  harvest  ;  a  blessinsr  which  I  do  not 
doubt  has  been  vouchsafed  to  you  as  well 
as  to  us  :  an  universal  blessing  !  and  such 
as  will  prove  very  extensive.  We  shall  feel 
the  good  effects  of  it  all  the  year  round, 
when  winter  freezes  the  air,  and  lurns  the 
earth  into  iron,  or  buries  it  under  heaps  of 
snow.  We  shall  be  refreshed  even  then 
with  the  productions  of  the  fruitful  season. 
O  that  our  hearts  may  be  filled  with  grati- 
tude, as  our  barns  are  with  plenty  !  The 
harvest  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  end  of  the 
world :  then  our  bodies  shall  arise  out  of 
the  dust  of  the  earth  ;  having  lain  a-  while 
under  the  clods,  and  seen  corruption,  they 
will  then  spring  up  incorruptible  and  im- 
mortal, an  amazing  multitude,  like  the 
blades  of  grass,  or  the  ears  of  corn,  innu- 
ijierable. 

The  husbandman,  in  harvest,  receives  a 
reward  for  all  his  toil.  The  labours  of  the 
preceding  year  are  amply  recompensed  by 
the  rich  fruits  of  increase.  And  the  con- 
summation of  all  things  will  be  the  great 
retribution-day :  then  the  Christian  re- 
ceives the  end  of  his  faith,  even  the  salva- 
tion of  his  soul ;  then  the  riches  he  has 
coveted  will  be  bestowed  in  the  favour  of 
seeing  him  who  is  immortal,  invisible  ; 
whose  loving  kindness  is  better  than  life. 
He  will  see  the  desire  of  his  soul,  and  the 
fruits  of  his  Saviour's  sufferings,  and  sit 
dowfl  everlastingly  satisfied.  The  husband- 
man rejoices  in  harvest ;  this  is  his  time  of 
festivity  and  delight.  They  joy  before  thee, 
saith  the  Scriptures,  according  to  the  joy 
of  the  righteous  :  they  will  look  up,  and  re- 
joice to  nehold  their  Redeemer  coming  in 
the  clouds  of  heaven,  and  all  the  holy  an- 
gels with  him  :  then  will  they  look  down, 
and  rejoice  to  see  the  wicked  world  burn- 
ing, in  which  they  were  tempted ;  rejoice 
to  see  all  their  enemies  put  under  their  feet ; 
and  when  the  doors  of  heaven  are  left  open, 
then  shall  they  enter  triumphantly  into  the 
city  of  the  li«ng  God,  and  everlasting  joy 
will  be  upon  their  heads,  and  reign  with 
Cbrjst  for  evermore.  Into  this  exceeding 
great  and  eternal  bliss,  I  wish  you,  madam, 
and  your  husband,  an  abundant  entrance ; 
and  remain  his  and  your,  &c. 


LETTER  XIX. 

Weston-Favell,  1744. 

Dear  ,  — -I  promised   to 

send  the  remainder  of  her  letter  in  a  few 


lines  to  you.  Either  she  may  transcribe 
from  you,  or  you  from  her,  in  order  to  com- 
plete the  little  essay.  I  left  off,  I  think, 
somewhere  hereabouts,  "  But  spiritual  in- 
terests are  infinitely  more  valuable."  For 
thase,  therefore,  Christ  will  provide  more 
abimdantly  :  If  they  want  knowledge,  he 
will  not  only  give  them  his  divine  word, 
but  his  enlightening  Spirit,  to  lead  them 
into  all  truth.  If  they  are  poor,  he  will 
give  them  the  fine  gold  of  his  obedience ; 
he  will  say  to  them  as  the  father  said  in 
the  parable.  Son,  all  that  I  have  is  thine. 
Are  they  wounded  ?  he  will  give  them  the 
healing  balm  of  his  precious  blood ;  this 
will  cure  the  wound  which  sin  has  made  in 
the  soul,  and  make  the  bones  which  have 
been  broken  to  rejoice.  Are  they  naked? 
he  will  clothe  them  with  the  robe  of  his 
own  righteousness ;  they  shall  appear  be- 
fore the  God  of  gods  in  the  garments  of 
this  their  elder  brother.  Are  they  weak  ? 
his  strength  shall  be  made  perfect  in  their 
weakness ;  he  will  work  in  them  both  to 
will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure.  When 
they  die,  he  has  provided  a  flight  of  angels 
to  attend  their  departing  souls,  and  conduct 
them  to  his  own  compassionate  arms :  he 
has  provided  mansions  of  gloiy,  a  house 
not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens, 
for  their  future  reception  :  he  has  provided 
a  fulness  of  joy,  and  pleasures  for  evermore, 
for  their  final  portion  and  inheritance. 

O  what  ample  provision  is  here  !  this  is 
indeed  good  measure,  pressed  down,  and 
shaken  together,  and  running  over.  What 
can  needy  creatures  want  which  Jesus  does 
not  supply  ?  Justly  was  it  once  said  by  an 
eminent  believer,  Jehovah- Jireh,  the  Lord 
will  provide.  Let  this  be  the  language  of 
our  hearts  in  all  our  needs. 

The  hen  comforts  her  tender  brood  ;  she 
screens  them  from  the  inclemencies  of  the 
weather.  She  spreads  out  her  wings,  and 
forms  a  canopy  over  them ;  this  affords 
them  a  house  to  lodge  in,  and  a  bed  to  sleep 
on.  No  velvet  is  softer,  no  blankets  are 
warmer.  Here  they  are  cherished  and  re- 
freshed ;  heie  they  find  heat  when  they 
shiver  with  cold,  are  dried  when  they  come 
dripping  with  wet. 

Jesus  also  comforts  his  poor  people  :  he 
is  called  the  consolation  of  Israel.  Come 
unto  me,  says  the  merciful  Redeemer,  all 
ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I 
will  give  you  rest ;  all  ye  that  are  weary, 
and  I  will  refresh  you.  He  is  afflicted  in 
all  their  afflictions,  and  is  as  ready  to  suc- 
cour them  as  a  man  is  to  allay  the  anguish 
of  his  own  smarting  flesh.  He  is  the  good, 
the  inconceivably  good  Shepherd,  whose 
bowels  yearn  with  the  tenderest  compassion 
when  his  lambs  are  fatigued  or  distressed ; 
he  even  lays  them  in  his  bosom.  Eveiy 
thing  but  Jesus  speaks  terror,  and  creates 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS- 


759 


dismay  to  his  little  flock.  But  this  com- 
passionate Shepherd  leads  them  forth  be- 
side the  waters  o("  comfort.  The  world 
lays  many  a  snare  tor  their  feet ;  the  world 
])ersecutes  and  hates  them.  In  the  world 
they  must  have  tribulation  ;  but  Christ  says, 
Be  of  good  cheer,  I  have  overcome  the 
world,  and  will  make  you  partakers  of  my 
victory ;  because  I  have  conquered,  ye  shall 
conquer  also.  The  law  lays  dreadful  things 
to  their  charge  ;  the  law  is  the  ministration 
of  condemnation ;  the  law  thunders  out 
threatenings.  Tliey  are  rebels,  says  that 
righteous  law ;  they  have  transgressed  my 
precepts ;  they  deserve  to  suffer  all  the 
curses  denounced  against  the  disobedient 
and  ungodly.  But  Christ  gently  whispers, 
Be  of  good  courage,  my  people  ;  take  sanc- 
tuary in  your  Mediator  ;  1  have  answered 
all  the  demands  of  the  law  :  If  it  requires 
punishment,  I  sustained  torments  unuttera- 
ble ;  if  it  insists  on  blood,  I  satisfied  it  with 
divine  blood  ;  with  every  drop  of  my  heart's 
blood  ;  so  that  there  is  no  condemnation 
to  them  that  are  interested  in  me.  If  it 
failed  for  righteousness,  I  submitted  to  its 
authority  ;  1  performed  eveiy  jot  and  tittle 
of  its  con)niands,  and  thereby  brought  in  a 
perfect  and  everlasting  righteousness.  Lay 
hold  on  my  obedience,  receive  this  from  my 
free  grace,  and  the  law  has  nothing  more 
to  charge  against  you  ;  for  the  righteous- 
ness of  the  law  is  fulfilled  in  them  that  be- 
lieve, though  the  devil  tempts  and  distresses 
the  children  of  Jesus.  He  not  only  tempts, 
but  accuses  them,  aggravating  and  calling 
aloud  for  vengeance ;  cries,  Down  with 
them,  down  with  them,  even  to  the  dust. 
But  Jesus  graciously  steps  in,  bafHes  the 
accusation,  arrests  the  judgment,  and  says, 
I  have  died  to  save  them  from  going  into 
the  pit,  for  I  have  found  a  ransom  ;  if  they 
have  sinned,  I  have  taken  them  upon  my- 
self;  if  they  have  multiplied  transgressions 
as  the  stars  of  heaven,  my  Father  hath  laid 
on  me  the  iniquities  of  them  all.  They  are 
my  redeemed  ones  ;  they  are  bought  with 
my  blood  ;  I  cannot  lose  my  purchase  :  if 
they  are  not  saved,  I  am  not  glorified. 

Such  sweet  truths,  sent  home  upon  the 
poor  soul,  must  be  very  comfortable  and 
restorative  to  the  drooping  sinner;  more 
refreshing  and  gladdening  to  the  conscience, 
than  the  feathers  of  the  hen  are  to  her 
feeble  starving  brood. 

Upon  the  whole,  let  us  imitate  the 
chickens,  by  trusting  in  Jesus  for  all  we 
want  or  wish  ;  let  us  lean  upon  our  Beloved 
in  all  our  j)rogress  through  this  wilderness  ; 
expect  to  be  furnished  entirely  out  of  his 
fulness;  look  for  protection  from  his  al- 
mighty arm  ;  depend  upon  provision  from 
his  inexhaustible  treasures ;  and  for  com- 
fort, from  H  growing  sense  of  our  interest 
in  him. 


Let  this  be  the  habitual  language  of  our 
hearts.  Blessed  Lord,  I  am  weak  and 
wretched,  surrounded  by  a  multitude  of 
dangers,  and  defiled  by  a  thousand  corrup- 
tions ;  O  defend  me  by  thy  eternal  power. 
Let  thy  almighty  arm  be  over  me  ;  let  thy 
Holy  Spirit  be  ever  with  me  ;  never  leave 
me  to  my  enemies  ;  never  give  me  up  to 
my  own  blindness  and  impotency,  for  I  flee 
unto  thee  to  hide  me ;  on  thee  I  depend 
to  break  every  snare  of  temptation  that 
endangers  me  from  without,  to  mortify 
every  seed  of  corruption  that  pollutes  me 
from  within.  I  am  poor  and  needy,  blessed 
Jesus,  do  thou  provide  for  me.  Since  I 
must  one  day  give  an  account  of  myself  to 
God,  let  thy  blood  wash  away  my  guilt,  and 
drown  all  my  transgressions.  Since  I  must, 
ere  long,  stand  before  him  whose  eyes  are 
as  a  burning  fire,  O  clothe  me  with  the 
robes  of  thy  righteousness,  the  garments  of 
salvation,  that  I  may  be  holy  and  blameless 
in  his  sight !  Since  I  must  quickly  die  out 
of  this  miserable  world,  provide  me  an  en- 
trance into  thine  own  everlasting  kingdom  ; 
and  while  I  continue  in  this  world,  provide 
me  with  grace  sufficient  for  me,  that  I  may 
live  like  thine  elect,  and  adorn  the  gospel 
of  God  my  Saviour. 

I  am  often  distressed ;  misgiving  thoughts, 
and  anguish  of  mind,  make  me  hang  down 
my  head  like  a  bulrush.  Through  fear  of 
death,  and  dread  of  eternal  judgment,  my 
joints  are  sometimes  ready  to  smite  one 
against  another;  but,  O  holy  and  most 
merciful  Saviour !  be  thou  my  support. 
Four  the  oil  of  gladness  into  my  inner  man  ; 
give  me  the  joy  of  thy  salvation  :  the  law 
condemns  me,  but  do  thou  justify  me;  my 
own  conscience  writes  bitter  things  against 
me,  but  do  thou  whisper  to  my  soul,  Be  of 
good  cheer,  thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee.  The 
toaring  lion  often  terrifies  me ;  but,  O  thou 
good  and  faithful  Shepherd !  let  thyself 
comfort  me.  Let  me  know  and  feel  that 
I  am  thine,  and  then  nothing  shall  pluck 
me  out  of  thy  hands. 

This  was  wrote  before  my  late  illness. 
You  see  from  hence,  that  you  my  friends 
at  Biddeford  have  been  on  my  thoughts, 
though  they  have  not  of  late  been  address- 
ed by  way  of  letter ;  and  I  shall  always 
pray,  that  whether  we  are  sick  or  in  health, 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  may  be  the  strength 
of  our  hearts,  and  our  portion  for  ever. — I 
am,  &c. 


LETTER  XX. 


-,  It  is  our  duty  continually 


Dear  - 

to  sing  hosannah  to  the  King  of  Israel,  who 
treadeth  all  enemies  under  his  feet.     He 


780 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


can  tread  them  down  like  clay  in  the  streets, 
or  cast  them  out  as  lightning  from  heaven. 
Nothing  is  impossible  to  him :  they  who 
know  Christ's  faithfulness  and  truth,  will 
put  their  trust  in  him ;  they  will  hang  upon 
him  every  moment,  as  the  feeble  child  in 
the  arms  of  the  indulgent  mother,  for  grace 
to  strengthen  and  enable  them  to  withstand 
the  devices  of  that  enemy  of  souls,  who  is 
seeking  every  moment  to  destroy  the  weak 
believer,  the  babe  in  Christ.  Satan  says, 
with  that  wicked  one  in  Exodus,  I  will 
pursue  them  with  inconceivable  malice  and 
rage  ;  I  will  overtake  and  tear  them  in 
pieces  like  a  lion ;  I  will  lay  ten  thousand 
snares  in  their  way,  and,  if  it  be  possible, 
bring  them  under  the  dominion  of  sin,  and 
after  that  into  the  damnation  of  hell.  The 
believer  replies.  Thou  wouldst  effect  this, 
O  thou  enemy  of  all  godliness,  I  know  thou 
wouldst  effect  this  with  as  much  ease  as  a 
feather  is  borne  down  by  a  sweeping  whirl- 
wind, was  I  left  a  moment  to  myself  ;  but 
my  strength  do  I  ascribe  unto  my  incarnate 
God.  The  blessed  Jesus  has  undertaken 
for  my  security  ;  he  watches  over  me  every 
moment,  and  nothing  can  pluck  me  out  of 
his  hands.  He  hath  said  (who  shall  dis- 
annul it  ?)  that  shi  shall  not  have  dominion 
over  me  :  he  will  preserve  me  by  his  al- 
mighty power  unto  salvation.  Let  all  my 
adversaries  know  assuredly,  that  my  safety 
is  not  in  myself.  But  as  the  hills  stand 
round  about  Jerusalem,  even  so  standeth 
the  Lord  round  about  his  people,  from  this 
time  forth  for  evermore. 

Whoever  attempts  the  ruin  of  a  soul  that 
is  staid  on  Jesus,  must  wrench  the  sove- 
reignty from  the  hand  of  Omnipotence,  and 
cause  unshaken  faithfulness  to  fail.  So 
long  as  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  and 
under  the  earth,  do  bow,  and  obey  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain  ;  so  long  as  Christ  is  a  God 
unchangeable  and  faithful,  that  cannot  lie, 
so  long  shall  a  poor  feeble  worm,  that  trusts 
in  him,  be  secure  from  apostasy  and  perdi- 
tion. O  the  blessings,  the  comforts,  that 
spring  from  a  right  knowledge  of  Jesus  ! 
Richer  blessings  I  cannot  wish  !  greater 
treasures  I  cannot  enjoy  nor  possess  !  This, 
this  alone,  is  that  knowledge  which  St. 
Paul  valued  above  all  other  accomplish- 
ments or  acquirements ;  in  comparison  of 
which  he  counted  all  things  else  no  better 
than  dross  or  dung.  O  let  my  dear  Bidde- 
ford  friends  beg  of  the  Father  of  lights  to 
send  out  the  Spirit  of  wisdom  and  res'ela- 
tion,  that  1  may  be  filled  with  the  know- 
ledge of  him,  and  of  Jesus  Christ  whom  he 
hath  sent ;  and,  in  return,  both  they  and 
you,  my  friends,  may  be  assured  of  the 
most  hearty  and  repeated  prayers  of  your 
sincere  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  XXI. 

Weston-FaveU,  Nov.  16.  1745. 

Sui, — It  is  not  easy  to  express  the  satis- 
faction I  received  from  your  agreeable  and 
useful  conversation  this  afternoon.  I  re- 
joice to  find  that  there  are  gentlemen  of 
genius,  learning,  and  politeness,  who  dare 
profess  a  supreme  value  for  the  Scriptures, 
and  are  not  ashamed  of  the  cross  of  Christ. 
I  congratulate  you,  dear  sir,  on  this  occa- 
sion ;  and  cannot  but  look  on  a  mind  so 
principled,  and  a  heart  so  disposed,  as  a  very 
choice  and  distinguish  mg  part  of  your  hap- 
piness. Was  I  to  frame  a  wish  for  the 
dearest  and  most  valued  friend  on  earth,  I 
would  earnestly  desire  that  he  might  grow 
daily  in  this  grace,  and  increase  in  the  know- 
ledge of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 
And  when  my  pen  begs  leave  to  assure  you, 

that  this  is  my  unfeigned  wish  for  , 

it  only  transcribes  what  is  deeply  written  on 
my  heart. 

This  brings  the  dedication  and  the  pre- 
face, which  are  to  introduce  a  little  essay, 
entitled  Meditations  among  the  Tombs, 
and  Reflections  on  a  Flower- Garden,  in 
two  letters  to  a  lady.  I  hope,  sir,  in  con- 
sequence  of  your  kind  promise,  you  will 
please  to  peruse  them  with  the  file  in  your 
hand.  The  severity  of  the  critic,  and  the 
kindness  of  the  friend,  in  this  case  will  be 
inseparable.  The  evangelical  strain,  I  be- 
lieve, must  be  preserved ;  because,  other- 
wise, the  introductory  thoughts  will  not  har- 
monize with  the  subsequent ;  the  porch  will 
be  unsuitable  to  the  building.  But  if  you 
perceive  any  meanness  of  expression,  any 
quaintness  of  sentiment,  or  any  other  im- 
propriety and  inelegance,  I  shall  acknow- 
ledge it  as  a  very  singular  favour,  if  you 
will  be  so  good  as  to  discover  and  correct 
such  blemishes. 

I  hope,  sir,  my  end  in  venturing  to  pub- 
lish is  an  hearty  desire  to  serve,  in  some 
little  degree,  the  interests  of  Christianity, 
by  endeavouring  to  set  some  of  its  most  im- 
portant truths  in  a  light  that  may  both  en- 
tertain and  edify.  As  I  profess  this  view, 
I  am  certain  your  affectionate  regard  for  the 
most  excellent  religion  imaginable  will  in- 
cline you  to  be  concerned  for  the  issue  of 
such  an  attempt,  and  therefore  to  contribute 
to  its  success,  both  by  bestowing  yoiu^  ani- 
madversions upon  these  small  parts,  and  by 
speaking  of  the  whole  (when  it  shall  come 
abroad)  with  all  that  candour  which  is  na- 
tural to  the  Christian,  and  will  be  so  great- 
ly needed  by  this  new  adventurer  in  letters, 
who  is,  &c. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


761 


LETTER  XXIL 

Weston- Favell,  Nov.  19,  1745. 

Dear  Sir, — I  cannot  forbear  making 
rny  grateful  acknowledgments  for  your  most 
obliging  letter.  You  could  not  possibly 
have  imagined  any  thing  more  agreeable  to 
my  incliirrttion,  tban  the  proposal  you  arc 
pleased  to  make  of  admitting  me  to  your 
acquaintance  and  conversation.  I  accept 
your  kind  offer,  sir,  with  thankfulness,  with 
joy  ;  and  shall  most  gladly  cultivate  a  friend- 
ship, which  is  not  only  perfectly  innocent, 
but  remarkably  elegant  and  improving;  es- 
pecially, since  you  are  pleased  to  permit  the 
discourse  to  turn  upon  those  points,  which 
it  is  my  duty  to  study,  and  my  delight  to 
contem])late.  Nor  shall  I  forget  how 
much  I  am  indebted  to  your  condescensicm 
for  this  fa\our ;  but  shall  always  bear  a  re- 
spectful sense  of  the  distinguished  rank  and 
superior  abilities  of  my  worthy  friend. 

Indeed,  I  am  particularly  delighted  with 
such  interviews  as  serve  to  enlarge  our 
knowledge,  and  refine  our  affections ;  such 
as  have  an  apparent  tendency  to  render  us 
more  useful  in  our  present  stations,  and  to 
ripen  us  for  future  haj)piness ;  such  was 
that  which  I  lately  enjoyed  in  your  com- 
pany. This  is  a  feast  of  reason,  a  feast  of 
truth  ;  and  I  must  own,  haj^  charms  for  nie, 
infinitely  superior  to  all  the  impertinent 
amusements  of  modish  chat,  or  the  mean 
gratifications  of  the  bottle. 

When  I  have  been  asked  to  spend  an  af- 
ternoon with  gentlemen  of  a  learned  educa- 
tion, and  unqtiestionable  ingenuity,  I  have 
fancied  myself  invited  to  take  a  turn  in  some 
beautiful  garden,  where  I  expected  to  have 
been  treated  with  a  sight  of  the  most  deli- 
cate flowers,  and  most  amiable  forms  of  na- 
ture; when,  to  my  great  surprise,  I  have 
been  shown  nothing  but  the  most  worthless 
thistle,  and  contemptible  weeds.  To  one 
who  has  so  often  been  disappointed,  it  must 
be  peculiarly  pleasing  to  find  the  satisfaction 
which  he  has  long  sought  in  vain.  This  I 
make  no  doubt  of  obtaining,  if  I  may  be 
permitted  to  be  a  third  person  in  the  inter- 
view, when  you  and  Mr.  sit  together 

in  social  conference. 

I  beg  leave  to  return  my  thanks  for  your 
ingenious  remark  upon  a  sentence  in  the  es- 
say towards  a  preface  ;  and  also  to  express 
my  entire  satisfaction  in  your  motion  lor 
considering  more  attentively  the  sjjiritual 
interests  of  the  poor  patients  in  the  hosj)ital. 
At  present,  it  is  undeniably  plain,  that  much 
more  assiduous  and  effectual  care  is  taken 
of  their  temporal  th.m  of  their  eternal  wel- 
fare. With  pleasure  I  shall  join  in  concert- 
ing some  j)roper  method  to  rectify  this  mis- 
conduct, and  with  a  real  alacrity  shall  exe- 
cute (as  fur  as  1  shall  be  enabled)  any  expe- 


dient which   yon   shall  judge  conducive  to 
the  recovery  and  health  of  their  souls. 

I  almost  repent  that  my  pen  has  intrud- 
ed, perha])s  in  the  midst  of  important  busi- 
ness, and  stole  so  much  of  your  valuable 
time.  But  now  I  have  done ;  and  shall 
only  repeat  what  agreeable  views  I  form 
from  the  prospect  of  your  future  acquaint- 
ance, and  what  an  addition  it  will  be  to  my 
happiness  to  be  owned  and  reg-arded  as,  &c. 


LETTER  XXIIL 

Wesfon-Favell,  Dec.  17,  1745. 

Sir, — I  ADMIRE  your  remarkable  regard 
for  the  truth,  and  that  noble  greatness  of 
soul  which  scorns  to  sacrifice  conscience  to 
interest,  and  cannot  stoop  to  receive  temporal 
honours  on  such  ignoble  terms.  Yourconduct 
reminds  me  of  a  most  amiable  peculiarity  in 
the  upright  and  religious  man's  character,  as 
it  is  drawn  by  the  inspired  writers ;  with 
which  you  cainiot  but  be  particularly  pleas- 
ed, as  it  so  exactly  corresponds  with  your 
own  :  Such  a  one,  says  the  royal  preacher, 
feareth  an  oath  ;  such  a  one,  adds  the  sweet 
singer  of  Israel,  speaketh  the  truth  from  his 
heart. 

The  Thirty-nine  Articles  I  have  more 
than  oiice  subscribed  ;  and  as  I  continue 
steadfast  in  the  belief  of  them,  as  you  are 
pleased  to  ask  my  opinion  relating  to  some 
seemingly  exceptionable  tenets  contained  in 
them,  1  most  readily  submit  it  to  your  con- 
sideration ;  not,  sir,  in  the  capacity  of  a 
casuist,  who  would  attempt  a  satisfactory 
answer  to  your  questions,  but  oidy  under 
the  notion  of  a  sincere  fi'ieiid,  who  would 
freely  disclose  his  whole  soul,  and  entertain 
no  one  sentiment  but  what  should  be  com- 
municated to  a  valuable  acquaintance. 

"  You  are  a  good  deal  puzzled  about  the 
equality  of  the  Son  wita  the  Father,  in 
Athanasius's  sense."  I  o\m  it  is  no  won- 
der that  we  should  be  somevvhat  staggered 
at  this  mysterious  truth,  especially  if  we  in- 
dulge a  wanton  curiosity,  and  inquire  after 
the  quomodeity  of  the  doctrine  :  if  nothing 
will  content  our  busy  minds  but  a  clear  com- 
prehension of  this  particular,  they  will  never 
he  brought  to  acquiesce  in  this  article.  But 
it  they  dare  venture  to  believe  the  express 
declarations  of  Infinite  Wisdom,  and  wait 
till  a  future  state  for  a  full  evolution  of  the 
mystery,  their  assent  will  soon  be  deter- 
mined. 

I  once  thought  a  very  striking  proof  of 
this  scriptund  doctrine  might  be  derived 
from  the  known  properties  of  a  mortal 
child,  considered  in  comparison  with  the 
parent.  Is  not  the  son  as  perfect  a  partaker 
of  all  the  constituent  parts  of  the  hinnan 
nature  as  the  father?    Are  not  the  children 


762 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


of  this  age  possessed  of  the  same  endow- 
ments of  body  and  mind  as  their  fathers  in 
the  preceding  age  ?  AVhatever  essential  ex- 
cellencies belong  to  the  one,  may,  with  equal 
truth,  be  predicated  of  the  other.  And  if 
the  son,  in  this  our  inferior  world,  be  in  all 
points  equal  to  his  progenitor,  why  should 
we  not  suppose  that  the  glorious  Son  of 
God  is  equal,  in  all  respects,  to  his  Al- 
mighty Father? 

But  I  choose  to  forbear  all  such  fond  en- 
deavours to  explain  what,  to  our  very  limit- 
ed comprehensions,  is  altogether  inexpli- 
cable. I  rather  receive  Scripture  for  my 
teacher,  and  give  up  my  sentiments  to  be 
formed  and  conducted  by  that  infallible 
guide.  In  Scripture  there  are  abundance 
of  texts  which,  in  the  most  explicit  terms 
imaginable,  assert  the  Son  to  be  God.  Now, 
if  he  be  God,  he  cannot  have  any  superior  ; 
inferiority  evidently  destroys  divinity ;  in- 
feriority, in  any  instance,  is  inconsistent  with 
the  notion  of  a  Supreme  Being.  So  that 
every  text  in  Scripture,  which  ascribes  a 
divijie  nature  to  the  blessed  Jesus,  seems  to 
speak  all  that  Athanasiiis  maintains  con- 
cerning the  absolute  universal  equality  of 
the  Son  with  the  Father. 

In  what  respects  can  tlie  Son  be  suppos- 
ed inferior?  Are  not  the  same  honours 
given  to  the  Son  as  are  paid  to  the  Father? 
The  Psalmist  mentions  two  of  the  incom- 
municable honours  which  are  due  to  the 
Supreme  Majesty ;  both  which  he  declares 
are,  and  shall  be,  addressed  to  the  Son  : 
Prayer  shall  be  made  ever  unto  him,  and 
daily  shall  he  be  praised.  This  adorable 
Person  is  the  object  of  our  worship  through- 
out the  whole  Litany.  In  the  Doxologies 
of  our  Liturgy,  the  same  glory  is  ascribed  to 
all  the  three  infinitely  exalted  Persons  of 
the  Trinity.  I  take  notice  of  this,  not  as  a 
conclusive  argument,  but  only  to  hint  at  the 
uniform  judgment  of  our  reformers  on  this 
important  head ;  and  to  point  out  their  par- 
ticular care  to  inculcate,  with  incessant  as- 
siduity, this  belief  upon  the  members  of 
their  communion.  Are  not  the  same  works 
ascribed  to  the  Son  as  are  ascribed  to  the 
Father?  God,  the  sovereign  and  supreme 
God,  (according  to  the  periphrasis  of  a  hea- 
then poet,  Cui  nihil  simile  aut  secundum,} 
often  declares  his  matchless  perfections,  by 
referring  mankind  to  his  astonishing  vv'orks 
of  creation.  And  is  not  the  Son  the  Crea- 
tor of  the  universe  ?  All  things  were  made 
by  him,  is  the  testimony  of  one  apostle ; 
and.  He  upholdeth  all  things  by  the  word 
of  his  power,  the  deposition  of  another.  Is 
not  the  same  incommunicable  name  applied 
to  the  Son  ?  Jehovah  is  allowed  to  be  a 
name  never  attributed,  throughout  the  whole 
Scripture,  to  any  being  but  only  to  the  one 
living  and  true  God,  who  only  hath  immor- 


tality, who  hath  no  superior,  none  like  him 
in  heaven  or  earth.  But  this  title  is  the 
character  of  the  incarnate  Son.  If  we  com- 
pare Moses  and  St.  Paul,  we  shall  find  that 
Christ  is  Jehovah,  Numb.  xxi.  G,  with 
1  Cor.  X.  9.  This  argument,  I  think,  is  not 
common,  and,  I  must  own,  has  had  a  great 
influence  in  settling  my  jud;,'ment  ever  since 
I  was  apprized  of  it.  Another  proof  was 
suggested  in  the  morning  lesson  for  the  day, 
Isa.  xlv.  23,  compared  with  Phil.  ii.  10. 
It  is  the  Lord,  in  the  prophet,  that  infinitely 
wise  God,  who  manifesteth;  even  from  an- 
cient time,  the  dark  and  remote  events  of 
futurity,  who  peremptorily  declares,  that 
there  is  no  God  besides  him,  consequently 
none  superior  in  any  degree  to  him  ;  yet 
this  most  sacred  Person,  who,  in  the  pro- 
phet's text,  has  the  attributes  of  incompar- 
able perfection  and  unshared  supremacy,  is, 
in  the  apostle's  comment,  the  Redeemer. 

I  fancy  all  those  texts  of  Scripture  which 
seem  to  you,  sir,  so  diametrically  opposite 
to  this  doctrine,  will,  upon  a  renewed  exa- 
mination, appear  referable  only  to  the  hu; 
manity  of  our  Saviour.  If  so,  they  cannot 
affect  the  point  under  debate,  nor  invalidate 
the  arguments  urged  in  its  support. 

After  all,  I  believe,  here  lies  the  grand 
difficulty  : — Sonship,  we  take  for  granted, 
implies  inferiority :  Sonship  implies  the 
receiving  of  a  being  from  another  ;  and  to 
receive  a  being  is  an  instance  of  inferiority. 
But,  dear  sir,  let  us  repress  every  bold  in- 
quiry into  this  awful  secret,  lest  that  of 
the  apostle — "  doubting  the  things  which 
he  did  not  see,"  be  the  lightest  censure  we 
incur.  What  is  right  reasoning  when  ap- 
plied to  the  case  of  created  existence,  is 
little  less  than  blasphemy  when  applied  to 
that  divine  Person  who  is,  from  everlasting 
to  everlasting,  the  great  I  AM.  The  ge- 
neration of  the  Son  of  God  is  an  unfathom- 
able mystery.  A  prophet  cries  out  with 
amaze,  Who  can  declare  his  generation  ? 
and  if  we  cannot  conceive  it,  how  can  we 
form  any  conclusions,  or  determine  what 
consequences  follow  from  it?  Here  it 
becomes  us  not  to  examine,  but  to  adore. 
If  we  know  not  how  the  bones  do  grow  in 
the  womb  of  her  that  is  with  child,  how 
shall  we  be  able  to  state  the  nature,  or  ex- 
plain the  effects  of  a  generation  inexpressi- 
bly more  remote  from  our  finite  apprehen- 
sions ? 

Upon  the  whole,  since  the  Scripture  has 
given  us  repeated  and  unquestionable  as- 
surances that  Christ  is  God  ;  since  common 
sense  cries  aloud  against  the  absurdity  of 
supposing  a  God  who  has  a  superior ;  shall 
we  reject  such  positive  evidences  of  revela- 
tion, and  be  deaf  to  the  strongest  remon- 
strauv^es  of  our  reason,  merely  because  we 
cannot  conceive  how  the  Sonship  of  the 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


763 


Redeemer  can  be  compatible  with  an  abso- 
lute equality,  in  all  }>ossible  perfection,  to 
the  Father  ? 

It  need  not  be  hinted  to  ,  that  this 

doctrine  of  the  divinity,  consequently  uf  the 
equality,  of  the  sacred  Tui-une,  is  not 
merely  a  speculative  point,  but  has  a  most 
close  connexion  with  practice,  and  is  ad- 
mirably fitted  to  influence  our  lives  in  the 
most  powerful  and  endearing  manner  :  That 
it  is  no  less  inse])arably  connected  with  the 
gnuid  blessings  ot  acf}uittance  from  the  guilt, 
and  delivery  from  the  Iwndage  of  sin — 
blessings  of  uiuitterable  and  intinite  value, 
without  which  the  children  of  men  are  of 
all  creatures  most  miserable  ;  which  yet  we 
cannot  reasonably  hope  to  enjoy,  if  any  of 
those  illustrious  persons,  concerned  in  ac- 
complishing the  great  redemption,  be  sup- 
posed less  than  divine- 

The  I8th  article,  you  add,  is  another  ob- 
jection to  me,  which  begins  thus,  They  also 
are  to  be  held  accursed,  &c.  This,  as  you 
observe,  seems  harsh.  Yet  the  harshness 
is  not  ours,  but  the  apostle's.  I  imagine 
tills  is  no  more  than  a  transcript  of  St. 
Paul's  awful  and  solemn  declaration,  trans- 
mitted to  the  Galatian  converts,  and  de- 
nounced against  their  corrupting  teachers. 
Be  pleased,  sir,  to  peruse  attentively  that 
whole  inspired  letter,  and  especially  to  con- 
sider chap.  i.  verses  6 — 9.  Then  permit 
ine  to  appeal  to  yourself,  whether  our  article 
professes  any  doctrine  which  is  not  clearly 
established  in  that  most  excellent  epistle  ?  or 
whether  our  church  uses  more  severe  terms 
than  the  apostle  thinks  proper  to  thunder 
out  in  that  memorable  passage?  But  might 
not  this  doctrine  have  been  palliated  a  little, 
or  the  tremendous  sanction  somewhat  soft- 
ened ?  No :  we  must  not  add  to,  or  di- 
minish from,  our  inviolable  rule.  A  faith- 
ful steward  of  the  divine  mysteries  must 
declare  the  whole  will  of  God  in  its  full 
extent  and  latitude,  together  with  the  fear- 
ful consequences  of  presumptuously  oppos- 
ing it,  as  well  as  the  blessed  effects  of  cor- 
dially receiving  it. 

I  am  not  surprised  that  this  procedure 
startles  some,  offends  others.  St.  Paul 
seems  to  have  foreseen  this  event,  and 
therefore  apologizes  for  himself,  shall  I  say  ? 
rather  declares  his  unalterable  resolution  of 
persisting  in  this  practice ;  q-  d-  1  am  sen- 
sible that  such  teachings  will  be  far  from 
palatable  to  too  many  of  my  hearers  ;  I  am 
aware,  also,  that  to  threaten  the  divine  ana- 
thema on  every  opposer  of  this  doctrine, 
will  be  still  more  offensive.  But  shall  1 
desist  on  these  considerations?  shall  I  ac- 
commodate the  standard  doctrines  of  heaven 
to  the  depraved  taste  of  the  iige  ;  or  be  so- 
licitous to  make  them  square  with  the  fa- 
vourite schemes  of  human  device,  only  to 
avoid  creating  disgust  in  some  nunds  ?  No, 


verily  ;  I  preach  what  unerring  wisdom  has 
revealed,  not  what  capricious  man  has 
dreamed ;  and  therefore  dare  not  vary  one 
jot  or  tittle  from  my  high  orders.  My 
business  is  principally  to  please  God  by  a 
faithful  discharge  of  my  commission,  not  to 
ingratiate  myself  with  men,  by  modelling 
my  doctrine  in  conformity  to  their  humours  ; 
and  therefore  I  must,  I  must  deliver  it,  just 
as  I  received  it. 

But  why  do  I  offer  to  illustrate  these 
texts  ?  Your  own  meditations,  I  persuade 
myself,  will  discern,  much  more  dearly  than 
I  can  represent,  that  the  compilers  of  our 
Articles  are  no  other  than  the  echo  of  St. 
Paul ;  or  rather,  that  they  only  set  their 
seal  to  the  doctrines  of  Christ  which  he 
taught ;  and  approve  that  verdict  of  hea- 
ven which  he  has  brought  in.  This  consi- 
deration will  acquit  them  from  the  charge  of 
harshness  of  expression,  or  uncharitableness 
of  sentiment. 

Your  objections  thus  proceed  : — I  believe 
that  every  one  will  be  saved  who  acts  up  to 
the  best  of  his  knowledge.  I  almost  durst 
venture  to  join  issue  with  my  friend  upon 
this  footing ;  and  undertake  to  prove,  from 
this  very  position,  the  universal  necessity 
of  believing  in  Christ  for  salvation.  Be- 
cause, I  think,  it  is  indisputably  certain,  that 
there  is  no  man  living  who  has  in  all  points 
acted  up  to  his  knowledge  ;  and  if  he  has 
swerved,  in  any  instance,  from  his  known 
acknowledged  duty,  how  shall  he  escape 
punishment  without  an  atonement  ?  Video 
meliora  prohoque,  deteriora  sequor,  is  what 
the  most  vigilant  and  upright  of  mortals 
have,  at  some  unhappy  moments,  felt  to 
be  true.  If  so,  how  shall  they  stand 
before  that  righteous  God,  who  will  not 
acquit  the  guilty  without  an  interest  in  the 
great  expiation!  But,  I  presume,  your  pro- 
position is  to  be  taken  in  a  more  qualified 
sense.  It  means,  that  those  who  sincerely, 
though  not  perfectly,  in  the  main  course  of 
their  life,  and  as  far  as  the  infirmities  of  a 
frail  nature  admit,  act  up  to  their  knowledge ; 
that  these  shall  be  saved,  even  without  their 
application  to  the  merits  of  a  Saviour.  If 
this  opinion  be  true  I  own  it  must  be  very 
unsafe  to  subscribe  our  Articles. 

When  this  point  is  in  dispute,  I  appre. 
bend  we  arc  to  confine  it  to  those  who  live 
in  a  gospel  land,  where  opjjortunities  of 
knowing  the  good-will  of  God  present 
themselves  every  day,  every  hour.  As  for 
the  heathens,  who  lie  under  uniivoidable 
and  irremediable  ignorance  of  the  blessed 
Jesus,  they  are  out  of  the  question.  I'hey, 
I  think,  should  be  remitted  to  God's  un- 
searchable wisdom  and  goodness.  There 
may  be  uneovenanted  mercies  for  them, 
which  we  know  nothing  of.  It  seems  to 
be  a  daring  and  unjustifiable  rashness  for  ua 
to  detennine  one  way  or  the  otber  with  re- 


76-t 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


gard  to  tlieir  final  state.  This,  however,  is 
plain,  from  the  oracles  of  revelation,  that 
it  will  be  more  tolerable  for  those  poor 
Gentiles  in  the  day  of  eternal  judgment, 
than  for  those  inexcusable  infidels  who  have 
heard  and  disobeyed  the  glorious  gospel. 
The  controversy  then  concerns  those  only 
who  have  the  Bible  in  their  hands,  or  the 
voice  of  the  preacher  sounding  in  their  re- 
ligious assemblies  every  Sabbath-day.  These, 
dear  sir,  I  cannot  think  will  inherit  salva- 
tion, though  they  act  with  ever  so  much 
sincerity,  according  to  their  knowledge,  un- 
less they  add  to  their  knowledge  faith. 

Perhaps  what  we  call  their  knowledge  is 
no  better  than  downright  and  wilful  igno- 
rance ;  the  light  that  is  in  them  is  darkness. 
Perhaps  they  never  took  any  pains  to  get 
themselves  informed  in  the  glorious  pecu- 
liarities of  the  gospel.  If  so,  their  conduct 
is  one  continued  disobedience  to  the  di- 
vine commands,  which  require  us  to  seek 
for  wisdom  as  for  hid  treasures;  which 
charge  us  to  search  the  Scriptures  as  nar- 
rowly, as  industriously,  as  the  sportsman 
searches  every  spot  of  ground,  beats  every 
tuft  of  grass,  in  order  to  start  the  latent 
game.  In  this  case,  what  we  call  their 
knowledge  is  really  blindness  itself;  and 
their  want  of  true  knowledge  cannot  be  their 
plea,  because  it  is  evidently  their  neglect 
and  their  sin. 

But  suppose  these  persons  have  searched 
the  Scriptures,  and  yet  are  persuaded  that 
there  is  no  such  need  of  a  Saviour's  me- 
rits; shall  we  condemn  them  in  these  cir- 
cumstances? We  do  not  presume  to  sit 
as  their  judges,  or  to  scatter  at  our  pleasure 
the  thunders  of  eternal  vengeance  ;  we  only 
declare  what  sentence  is  passed  upon  them 
by  the  supreme  Dispenser  of  life  and  death. 
He  has  made  it  an  adjudged  case,  he  has 
passed  it  into  an  irrepealable  law.  That 
whoso  believeth  not  in  the  Son  of  God, 
M'hosoever  perversely  persists  in  seeking 
some  other  method  of  salvation,  and  will 
not  fly  to  that  Redeemer  whom  infinite 
Wisdom  has  set  forth  for  a  propitiation, 
this  man  is  condemned  already. 

Will  it  be  said,  That  a  man  cannot  help 
assenting  to  what  he  is  thoroughly  persuad- 
ed to  be  right  ?  And  if  a  deist,  from  his 
very  soul,  believes  that  morality  alone  is 
the  way  to  life,  and  that  the  notion  of  a 
Redeemer,  to  make  satisfaction  and  procure 
justification,  is  a  religious  chimera,  shall  we 
blame  such  a  one  for  following  the  genuine 
dictates  of  his  mind  ?  I  answer,  still  I  an- 
swer, that  we  must  abide  by  the  determina- 
tions of  that  sovereign  God,  whose  judg- 
ment, we  are  sure,  is  according  to  tnilh. 
He  has  said,  nor  can  all  the  cavils  and  so- 
phistry in  the  world  supersede  the  decree, 
He  that  believeth  not  shall  be  damned.  Be 
not  shocked^  sir,  at  the  seeming  severity  of 


the  doom,  rather  let  us  be  shocked,  be 
greatly  astonished,  at  the  prodigious  hardi- 
ness of  those  more  than  steely  hearts,  which 
can  attend  to  such  terrors  of  the  Lord,  and 
not  be  persuaded  to  come  to  Christ ;  nay, 
what  is  enough  to  make  heaven  and  earth 
horribly  amazed,  can  hear  of  these  terrors, 
and  yet  regard  them  no  more  than  a  puflT  of 
empty  air. 

Nor  will  it  extenuate  the  crime  of  unbe- 
lief to  allege,  in  behalf  of  the  infidel,  that 
he  is  actually  convinced  in  his  own  con- 
science that  his  sentiments  are  right.  He 
may  be  so,  and  yet  be  inexcusably  guilty 
notmthstanding ;  for  is  it  not  owing  to  his 
own  fault  that  he  has  imbibed  such  senti- 
ments ?  Is  it  not  through  his  own  criminal 
misconduct  that  he  has  contracted  such  a 
perverse  habit  of  thinking?  Has  he  not 
indulged  some  darling  vice,  which  has 
clouded  his  understanding  ?  Or,  instead  of 
obepng  the  great  mandate  of  heaven.  This 
is  my  beloved  Son,  hear  ye  him,  has  he  not 
attended  solely  to  the  arguings,  deductions, 
and  discernment  of  his  own  reason,  as  his 
only  guide  to  heavenly  truth  ?  A  drunkard 
verily  thinks,  (if  he  thinks  at  all,)  that  he 
does  nobly  in  committing  insults  on  quiet 
harmless  people.  But  will  his  bare  thinking 
that  he  acts  gallantly  acquit  him  at  the  bar 
of  equity  ?  Perhaps,  in  his  present  condi- 
tion, he  cannot  help  fancying  that  his  ac- 
tions are  becoming,  and  that  he  does  well 
to  be  turbulent  and  outrageous ;  but,  though 
he  cannot  help  the  effect,  might  he  not  have 
avoided  the  cause  of  his  frenzy  ?  Methinks 
this  comparison  will  hold  good  if  applied  to 
the  case  of  many  scorners  of  the  gospel,  who 
think  contemptuously  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
who  really  apprehend  they  do  nothing  amiss 
in  depreciating  his  obedience  and  death. 
But  I  fear  they  have  brought  upon  them- 
selves this  deplorable  delirium,  or  intoxica- 
tion of  their  understandings,  either  by  vo- 
luptuousness and  debauchery,  or  else  by 
self-conceit,  and  the  most  odious  aiTogance 
of  mind  ;  which,  in  the  estimate  of  the  Holy 
One  of  Israel,  is  no  better  than  spirltud 
idolatry. 

For  my  part,  I  am  assured  that  God  has 
vouchsafed  us  the  means  of  obtaining  the 
knowledge  of  himself,  and  of  Jesus  Christ, 
whom  he  hath  sent ;  it  is  equally  certain 
that  he  has  commanded  us  to  acquahit  our- 
selves with  him,  and  be  at  peace  ;  it  is  no 
less  undeniable,  that  whosoever  seeks  this 
inestimable  knowledge,  by  a  diligent  appli- 
cation to  the  Scriptures,  by  a  child- like 
dependence  on  the  teachings  of  the  divine 
Spirit,  by  humble  prayers  to  be  led  into  all 
truth,  and  by  doing  the  %vill  of  God,  so  far 
as  he  is  acquainted  withj  it  ;  whosoever 
seeks,  by  using  these  means,  shall  find,  shall 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  be 
saved.     If,  therefore,  persons  are  so  negli- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


765 


pent  as  not  to  use  these  methods,  so  auda- 
cious as  to  contemn  thfm,  so  liaugbty  as  to 
im.igine  they  have  no  need  of  them,  they  may 
justly  be  given  over  to  their  own  dehisioiis, 
and  yet  be  most  righteously  punished  as  sui- 
cides of  their  souls. 

But  still  it  is  pleaded,  in  vindication  of 
the  good-natured  civilized  infidel,  That 
there  is  no  turpitude  in  his  life,  that  his 
behaviour  is  every  way  irrejjroaclutble.  As 
to  the  turpitude  of  his  life,  when  comjjared 
with  the  conversation  of  otiier  men,  I  have 
nothing  to  say ;  but  surely  there  is  the 
highest  iniquity  in  his  principles  and  conduct 
when  compared  with  the  revealed  will  of 
God,  which  is  the  oidy  criterion  of  truth, 
the  only  standard  of  excellence.  God  has 
commanded  all  men  to  honour  the  Son,  even 
as  they  honour  the  Father.  Biit  these 
people  protest  iigainst  the  divine  edict,  and 
say,  with  those  insolent  subjects  in  the 
gospel,  We  will  not  have  this  Jesus  to 
reign  over  us.  God  has  solemnly  declared. 
That  all  mankind  are  become  guilty  before 
him  ;  that,  by  the  works  of  the  moral  law, 
no  flesh  living  shall  be  justified  ;  that  there 
is  no  Mediator  between  God  and  men,  but 
the  man  Christ  Jesus.  But  these  people 
maintain,  in  defiance  of  this  declaration, 
that  they  themselves  are  able  to  make  up 
matters  with  their  offended  Creator,  and 
can,  by  their  own  honest  behavour,  secure 
a  title  to  everlasting  felicity.  God,  of 
his  superabundant  and  inconceivably  rich 
goodness,  hiis  given  his  Son,  his  only  Son, 
to  suffer  agonies,  to  shed  blood,  to  lay  down 
an  infinitely  precious  life  for  them  ;  yet 
these  people,  like  those  impious  wretches 
that  crucified  the  Lord  of  glory,  deride  his 
agonies,  trample  upon  his  blood,  and,  though 
he  has  redeemed  them,  they  speak  lies 
-against  him,  Hosea  viii.  13.  Let  us  see, 
then,  a  little  part  of  the  evidence  summed 
up  against  the  spirit  of  unbelief.  It  implies 
stubbornness,  which  is  as  the  sin  of  witch- 
craft ;  rebellion,  wliich  is  as  iniquity  iuid 
idolatry ;  it  implies  the  most  assuming 
pride,  which  is  an  abomination  to  the  Lord  ; 
it  implies  the  vilest  ingratitude,  even  amidst 
the  most  unbounded  beneficence  ;  ai>d  the 
voice  of  nature  has  pro<'laim€d,  Iiujratum  si 
dixetis,  omnia  dixeris.  Let  the  inijjartial 
considerer  decide,  whether  the  heart  of  these 
persons  be  right  before  God :  or  whether 
their  conduct,  when  brought  to  the  test  of 
that  word  which  is  to  judge  them  at  the  last 
,day,  be  so  unblamable  as  is  frequently  j)re- 
tended. 

Enough  has  been  said  of  the  two  first 
points  ;  I  fear,  more  than  enough  to  fatigue 
your  attention.  However,  I  now  draw  in 
the  reins,  and  promise  not  to  put  your  pa- 
tience upon  doing  such  tedious  penaiu^e  any 
more. 

There  is  another  expression  in  the  para- 


graph relating  to  the  18th  article,  which, 
since  you  expect  my  undisguised  opinion, 
I  cannot  dismiss  without  a  remark.  When 
the  Scriptures  say  that  men  shall  be  saved 
throiigh  the  name  of  Christ,  you  suppose, 
sir,  they  mean  that  Christ  made  a  general 
atonement  for  origial  sin  ;  whereas,  I  appre- 
hend, that  such  texts  imjwrt  abundantly,  I 
had  almost  said  infinitely,  more.  Thus 
much,  I  think,  at  least,  they  must  amount 
to  in  their  signification.  That  if  we  are 
saved  from  the  guilt  of  our  offences,  it  shall 
be  only  through  the  all-atoning  blood  of  the 
Lamb  of  God.  If  we  are  made  acceptable 
to  that  awful  Majesty  who  dwelleth  in  light 
inaccessible,  this  our  justification  shall  be  in 
consideration  of  the  obedience  and  right- 
eousness of  the  beloved  Son  :  if  we  obtain 
the  Spirit  of  sanctification,  are  enabled  to 
deny  all  ungodliness,  and  to  live  soberly, 
righteously,  and  godly,  in  this  present  evil 
world,  it  shall  be  through  the  intercession 
of  Jesus,  our  great  high-priest,  by  whom 
alone  the  Holy  Ghost  is  vouchsafed  to  un- 
worthy polluted  sinners.  All  this  I  take  to 
be  included  in  that  word,  of  most  rich  and 
comprehensive  meaning — salvation  ;  and 
since  it  is  affirmed  that  we  are  saved  by 
Christ,  I  should  think  it  must  signify,  that 
we  obtain  all  these  glorious  and  invaluable 
benefits  through  that  all-sufficient  Media- 
tor. 

As  to  Christ's  making  an  atonement  for 
original  sin,  that  surely  was  but  one  single 
branch  of  his  important  undertaking  -.  Wo, 
wo  be  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  if  he 
did  no  more.  Our  actual  sins,  the  sins  of 
our  heart,  the  sins  of  our  life,  our  sins  of 
omission  and  sins  of  commission,  and  all 
those  sins  which  are  more  in  number  than 
the  hairs  of  our  head,  heavier  with  horrid 
aggravations  than  the  sand  of  the  sea,  he 
bore  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree.  He  was 
wounded  for  our  offences,  he  was  bruised 
for  our  trangressions,  and  the  Lord  laid  on 
him  (not  only  the  innate  depravity,)  but 
the  actual  iniquities  of  us  all. 

Your  next  objection  lies  against  the  L3th 
arti(;]e,  namely.  Works  done  before  the  grace 
of  Christ  are  not  acceptable  to  God.  Is  the 
meaning  of  this  tenet,  you  ask,  that  men 
are  made  with  a  natural  incapacity  of  doing 
any  thing  but  sinful  actions  ?  I  answer,  this 
is  not  so  properly  the  meaning  of  the  article, 
iis  a  most  cogent  reason  to  establish  it.  On- 
ly let  it  be  stated  a  little  more  clearly,  and 
it  is  no  inconsiderable  argumeitt  in  proof  of 
the  doctrine.  Men  were  not  made  by  their 
Creator  with  this  incapacity,  but  they  have 
brought  it  u])on  themselves  by  their  own 
fault.  By  their  original  sin  they  have  con- 
tracted a  most  miserable  depravity,  and  have 
made  themselves  "  to  every  good  work  re- 
probate." Since,  therefore,  we  can  do  no 
good  work  before  we  are  renewed  by  the 


•m 


A  COLLECTION  OF  F^ETTERS. 


grace  of  Christ,  it  seems  to  foilow,  that  we 
can  do  no  work  acceptable  to  God  till  thk 
renovation  take  place.  This,  you  observe, 
does  not  seem  so  agreeable  to  charity  as 
one  could  v^■ish.  Worthy  sir,  our  notions 
of  charity  are  not  to  be  the  rule  of  the  di- 
vine acceptance,  either  of  persons  or  things. 
If  the  doctrine  be  acreeable  to  the  declara- 
tions of  unerring  Wisdom,  we  are  to  admit 
it  with  all  readiness,  and  rather  conclude 
that  we  mistake  the  natiu'e  of  charity,  than 
that  the  Scripture  mistakes  the  terms  of  the 
Almighty's  acceptance  and  favour.  You 
know,  sir,  it  is  the  express  voice  of  Scrip- 
ture, that  without  faith  it  is  impossible  to 
please  God,  and,  till  the  s])irit  of  Christ  be 
shed  abroad  in  the  soul,  it  possesses  no  such 
sacred  principle  as  true  faith.  It  is  a  fa- 
vourite apophthegm  of  our  divine  blaster's. 
That  a  corrupt  tree  cannot  bring  forth  good 
fruit.  And  are  not  all  that  spring  from  the 
stock  of  fallcTi  Adam  corrupt  trees,  until 
they  are  ingrafted  into  the  true  olive-tree, 
and  partake  of  his  meliorating  and  generous 
juices?  I  shall  only  mention  one  more 
scriptural  oracle,  an  oracle  delivered,  not 
from  Delphos,  no,  nor  from  Mount  Sinai, 
but  immediately  from  Heaven  itself;  This 
is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased.  I  have  always  thought  these  words 
are  to  be  taken  in  an  exclusive  sense,  as 
though  the  everlasting  Father  had  said,  I 
am  well  pleased  with  the  apostate  race  of 
Adam,  only  as  they  are  reconciled  through 
my  beloved  Son  :  uninterested  in  him,  no 
persons  are  the  objects  of  my  complacency ; 
unrecommended  by  him,  no  actions  are  the 
subject  of  my  approbation.  If  this  be  the 
genuine  sense  of  the  passage,  it  will  serve  at 
once  to  confirm  the  article,  and  to  obviate 
the  objection  derived  from  the  deficiency 
and  remains  of  pollution,  that  cleave  even 
to  the  performances  of  a  believer. 

I  am  glad  you  have  satisfied  yourself  with 
relation  to  the  article  which  touches  upon 
predestination  and  election.  These  are 
sublime  points,  far  above  the  soluiion  of  our 
low  capacities.  Hut,  for  my  part,  I  am  no 
more  surprised  that  some  revealed  truths 
should  amaze  my  understanding,  than  that 
the  blazing  sun  should  dazzle  my  eyes.  That 
such  things  are  mentioned  in  the  inspired 
writings  as  real  facts,  is  undeniable.  I 
should  renoimce  my  very  reason,  if  I  did  not 
believe  what  Onniiscience  attests,  even 
though  it  should  imjily  what  is  altogether 
inexplicable  by  my  scanty  conceptions.  And 
why  should  the  iiicaverned  mole — whose 
dwelling  is  darkness,  whose  sight  is  but  a 
small  remove  from  blindness — why  should 
such  a  poor  animal  wonder  that  it  cannot 
dart  its  eye  through  unnumbered  worlds,  or 
tike  in  at  a  glance  the  vast  system  of  the 
universe  ? 


Your  sease  of  the  20th  article  \s  exactly 
mine.  The  authority  you  mention  is,  in 
my  opinion,  all  the  authority  which  the 
church,  the  rulers  and  governors  of  the 
church,  cait  reasonably  claim,  or  regidarly 
exercise,  in  matters  relating  to  faith.  These 
rulers  have  power,  as  you  justly  observe,  to 
settle,  in  ccmiformity  with  what  they  conclude 
to  be  the  meaning  of  Scripture,  the  nature 
and  extent  of  their  own  creed  ;  and  none,  I 
think,  can  fairly  deny  them  a  right  to  deter- 
mine what  points  of  belief  shall  be  the  in- 
dispensable terms  of  enjoying  communion 
with  their  society.  But  as  for  I  know  not 
what  pri\-i!ege  of  interpretating  Scripture  in 
siich  a  manner  as  that  it  shall  be  contumacy 
to  examine  before  we  credit,  or  heterodoxy 
and  here.'iy  to  controvert  their  exposition^ 
this  is  an  authority  which  I  caiinot  allow  to 
any  man,  or  body  of  men,  now  in  the  worlds 
At  this  rate  our  faith  would  be  built  upon 
the  decisions  of  the  church,  not  on  the  de- 
terminations of  the  inspired  word  ;  and,  con. 
sequently,  be  not  of  God,  but  of  men. 

Could  I  have  imagined,  when  I  set  pen 
to  paper,  that  it  would  have  run  such  extra- 
vagant lengths  ?  Bear  with  my  prolixity, 
dear  sir,  and  excuse  my  freedom ;  or,  rather, 
if  I  have  said  any  thing  in  too  free  a  style, 
you  must  charge  it  upon  youi'  own  conde- 
scension and  candour,  which  have  imbolden- 
ed  me  to  deliver  my  sentiments  without  the 
least  cloak  or  reserve. 

But  I  must  not,  I  dare  not  close  without 
acting  as  becomes  a  minister  of  the  gospel, 
without  reminding  my  valuable  friend,  that 
the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty  giveth  wis- 
dom ;  that  a  man  can  receive  nothing,  much 
less  an  acquaintance  with  the  mysteries  of 
the  Redeemer's  kingdom,  unless  it  be  given 
him  from  above.  To  this  Fountain  of  wis- 
dom, and  Father  of  lights,  let  us  make  hum- 
ble, earnest,  daily  application.  Then  shall 
we  see  the  things  that  belong  to  our  peace, 
and,  as  it  is  most  emphatically  expressed  by 
the  sacred  penman,  know  the  truth  as  it  is 
in  Jesus. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXIV. 

Westmi-FaveU,  Jan.  10,  1745-6. 
Dear  Sib, — How  arduous,  and  how  mo- 
mentous, is  the  task  you  have  assigned  me  ! 
A  sense  of  its  difficulty  and  importance  al- 
most deterred  me  from  venturing  so  much 
as  to  attempt  it.  A  cordial  friendship  in- 
stigated, and  a  consciousness  of  my  own  in- 
capacity checked,  for  some  time,  my  fluctu- 
ating mind.  At  length  the  bias  inclined  to 
the  side  of  the  former ;  my  reluctance,  urg- 
ed by  the  request  of  a  friend,  gives  way ; 
and  now  I  am  fully  determined.   Deterniin- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


767 


ed  to  what  ?  To  enter  tlie  lists  against  the 
adversaries  of  the  Trinity  ?  more  particu- 
larly to  appear  as  the  champion  for  the  per- 
sonality and  divinity  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
with  a  view  of  resting  the  grand  debate  on 
the  dexterity  of  this  pen  ?  No,  sir ;  I  form 
no  such  romantic  schemes ;  I  renounce  any 
such  undertaking  ;  I  am  only  determined  to 
lay  before  you  the  thoughts  which  have  oc- 
curred since  I  have  rceived  your  last  letter; 
and  this,  on  the  condition  of  having  them 
returned  to  the  secrecy  of  my  closet  after 
you  have  passed  3'our  judgment,  and  bestow- 
ed your  correcti(jns  upon  them. 

In  managing  tliis  controversy,  shall  1  say  ? 
or  rather  in  pursuing  this  inquiry,  it  behoves 
us  humbly  to  apply  to  the  great  Father  of 
lights  for  direction.  They  shall  all  be 
taught  of  God,  says  the  prophet;  This 
jiroinise  we  should  humbly  plead  at  the 
tlirone  of  grace,  and,  in  cheerful  depend- 
ence on  its  accomplishment,  proceed  to  exa- 
mine, with  a  modest  and  reverential  awe, 
the  mysterious  points  before  us.  Whoever 
rejects  this  key,  and  yet  hopes  to  be  admit- 
ted into  the  treasures  of  heavenly  know- 
ledge, acts  altogether  as  imprudent  a  part, 
as  if  he  should  expect  to  attain  a  masterly 
skill  in  mathematics,  and  at  the  same  time 
neglect  to  inform  himself  of  the  first  princi- 
ples of  that  admired  science.  When  a  di- 
vine person  is  the  object  of  our  considera- 
tion, then  surely  it  becomes  us,  in  a  more 
especial  manner,  not  to  lean  to  our  own 
imderstiinding,  but,  like  little  children,  to 
rely  on  the  teachings  of  that  all-wise  Spirit, 
whose  nature,  dignity,  and  attributes,  we 
would  devoutly  contemplate.  You  will 
perhaps  take  notice,  that  I  anticipate  what 
is  to  be  proved,  and  take  it  for  granted,  that 
the  Holy  Ghost  is  indeed  God.  I  would 
only  observe  from  this  remark,  how  natur- 
ally we  wish,  how  almost  unavoidably  we 
conclude,  that  person  to  be  really  God,  who 
is  appointed  to  lead  us  into  all  truth. 

Let  us  now,  sir,  if  you  please,  address 
ourselves  to  the  inquiry,  whether  the  Holy 
Spirit  is  a  real  person  ?  whether  that  per- 
son is  very  God  ?  And  these  particulars 
being  discussed,  it  may  be  pro[)er  to  exam- 
ine briefly  the  most  material  of  Mr.  Tom- 
kins's  objections.  But  to  whom,  to  what 
shall  we  apply,  in  order  to  find  the  satis- 
faction we  seek?  To  reason,  and  her 
naked  unassisted  dictates  ?  Hardly  can 
reason  guess  aright  with  relation  to  the 
things  that  are  before  our  eyes  ;  much  less 
can  she  determine,  with  any  certainty,  con- 
cerning the  unsearchable  depths  of  the 
divine  nature,  those  ra,  flafir}  th  0ik.  We 
have,  in  the  word  of  revelation,  an  infallible 
oracle.  To  this  let  us  direct  our  search. 
To  the  decision  of  this  unerring  standard 
let  us  inviolably  adhere,  however  it  may 


surpass  our  comprehension,  or  run  rouriter 
to  our  fond  prepossessions. 

Here  we  may  possibly  ask,  Is  not  the 
Spirit  of  God,  by  a  common  metonymy, 
put  for  God  himself?  1  own  I  have  some- 
times been  inclined  to  hesitate  on  this 
question.  When  it  is  said.  My  Spirit  shall 
not  always  strive  with  man,  and.  Grieve 
not  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God — I  have  never 
thought  these  passages  a  sufficient  proof  of 
the  personality  of  the  blessed  Spirit,  though 
(if  I  mistake  not)  commoidy  urged  in  sup- 
port of  the  doctrine.  These,  I  apprehend, 
might  fairly  be  interpreted  of  grieving  God 
himself,  and  resisting  the  tender,  gracious 
overtures  of  his  mercy :  Conformably  to 
that  parallel  form  of  speech,  where  it  is  said 
by  the  inspired  writer,  Paul's  spirit  was 
grieved  ;  i-  e.  without  all  dispute,  Paul 
himself  was  inwardly  afflicted. 

Again  :  Perhaps  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 
may  be  nothing  more  than  a  particular 
modification  or  exercise  of  a  divine  power 
resident  in  the  Deity.  For  instance,  when 
it  is  said,  in  the  prophetic  language.  Not  by 
might,  nor  by  force,  but  by  my  Spirit,  saitk 
the  Lord  :  or  by  the  evangelical  historian. 
The  Holy  Ghost  was  upon  him-  Are  not 
these  texts  nearly  equivalent,  in  point  of 
signification,  to  those  scriptural  expressions, 
The  right  haiid  of  the  Lord  bringeth  mighty 
things  to  pass :  The  inspiration  of  the 
Almighty  giveth  understanding  ?  Is  not 
this  the  meaning  of  the  former  passage. 
Not  mortal  strength,  but  God's  omnipotent 
aid  giveth  victory  in  the  battle,  and  suc- 
cess ill  every  undertaking ;  and  this  the 
import  of  the  latter.  The  communications  of 
infinite  wisdom  enlightened  his  mind  in  an 
extraordinary  manner  ? 

Were  there  no  other  Scriptures  which 
concerned  themselves  in  this  debate,  I 
should  be  ready  to  give  up  the  point.  But 
there  are  several,  which  most  strongly  im- 
ply the  personality  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
though  they  may  not  assert  it  in  positive 
terms.  It  is  true  we  meet  with  no  such 
term  as  personality  in  sacred  writ ;  but  if 
we  find  the  thing  siginfied,  it  is  in  effect  the 
samp.  No  one  can  shew  me  the  word  re- 
surrection  in  the  whole  Pentateuch  ;  but 
will  any  one  presume  to  maintain,  that  this 
doctrine  is  not  to  be  proved  from  the  books 
of  Moses  ?  Our  Lord's  famous  reply  to  the 
ensnaring  interrogatory  of  the  Sadducees 
must  for  ever  silence  such  a  suggestion. 
And  thus  we  may  further  learn  from  his 
method  of  arguing,  that  it  is  not  only  pro- 
per, but  our  duty,  to  deduce  truths  by  fair 
consequences,  which  the  text  may  not  ex- 
plicitly speak. 

Be  pleased,  sir,  to  consider  the  apostoli- 
cal benediction,  The  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love  of  God,  and  iha 


768 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


fellowsliip  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  with  you 
all.  If  we  allow  the  apostle  to  understand 
the  true  import  of  lanijuage,  must  it  not 
follow  from  this  passage,  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  is  a  real  person,  and  distinct  from  the 
Father  and  the  Son?  Otherwise  would 
not  the  sacred  writer,  ought  not  the  sa- 
cred writer,  to  have  expressed  himself  in  a 
different  manner  ;  to  have  said  rather,  The 
fellowship  of  his,  or  the  fellowship  of  their 
Spirit?  The  form  of  administering  bap- 
tism is  another  text  of  this  nature  :  In 
the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son, 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  It  is  evident,  I 
believe  it  is  allowed  by  all,  that  the  two 
first  are  real  distinct  persons  ;  and  is  there 
not  equal  reason  to  conclude,  that  the  last 
mentioned  is  a  person  also?  Suppose  you 
should  endeavour  to  distinguish  three  per- 
sons in  your  discourse,  what  other  language 
would  you  use  than  this  ?  I  dare  say,  sir, 
you  are  sensible,  that  one  Scripture  proof, 
if  plain  in  its  signification,  and  incontestable 
in  its  evidence,  is  as  valid,  as  decisive,  as 
one  thousand ;  because  one  such  proof 
bears  the  stamp  of  infallible  wisdom  and 
infinite  veracity.  Therefore,  was  there  no 
other  hint  in  all  the  inspired  volumes,  but 
these  pregnant  words  which  comjwse  the 
form  of  baptism,  this  single  proof  would 
be  sufficiently  satisfactory  to  my  judgment- 
I  shall  take  leave  to  refer  you  to  a  few 
more  evidences,  and  transcribe  only  the 
following :  There  are  three  that  bear  wit- 
ness in  heaven,  the  Father,  the  Logos,  and 
the  Holy  Ghost,  and  these  three  ai-e  one 
But  this,  we  are  told,  is  a  surreptitious 
text,  foisted  by  the  bigotted  espousers  of  a 
certain  favourite  set  of  doctrines.  The 
only  resource  this  of  our  opposers,  when 
their  case  becomes  desperate,  when  con- 
viction flashes  in  their  faces ;  when  every 
other  subterfuge  fails,  then  the  pretence 
of  spurious  and  interpolated  reading  is 
trumped  up.  It  is  not  to  be  found,  they 
cry,  in  some  very  ancient  copy ;  perhaps 
the  Alexandrine  MS.  acknowledges  no  such 
passage.  But  this  I  must  be  allowed  to 
question  ;  I  dare  not  take  our  adversaries' 
bare  word,  especially  since  some  of  the  de- 
clared enemies  of  orthodoxy  are  not  the 
most  exemplary  for  truth  and  integrity. 
However,  granting  that  there  may  be  no 
such  text  in  the  Alexandrine  MS.,  for  my 
part  I  should  not  scruple  to  abide  by  the 
.  universal  testimony  of  all  editions,  in  all 
countries,  much  rather  than  to  give  up  my- 
.  self  implicitly  to  the  authority  of  a  single 
MS.  I  should  think  it  much  more  reason- 
able to  conclude,  that  the  transcriber  of  that 
particular  copy  had,  through  oversight,  dropt 
some  sentence,  rather  than  to  charge  all 
the  other  copies  with  forgery,  and  the 
editions  of  all  ages  with  a  gross  mistake. 
Consider,  sir,  not  only  the  apparent  diffi- 


culty, but  the  moral  impossibility  of  corrupt- 
ing the  sacred  books  in  that  palpable  manner 
which  this  objection  would  insinuate,  at  a 
time  when  every  private  Christian  valued 
them  more  than  life,  and  spent  no  day  with- 
out a  diligent  contemplation  of  them ;  at  a 
time  when  each  particular  sect  read  them 
constantly  in  their  public  assemblies,  and 
watched  over  the  genuineness  of  each  text 
with  a  most  jealous  eye.  Would  it  be  an 
easy  matter  to  introduce  a  supposititious 
clause  into  an  ordinary  will,  after  it  had  been- 
solemnly  proved  at  Doctors  Commons,  and 
one  authentic  copy  preserved  in  the  ar- 
chives ?  If  this  is  scarce  possible,  how 
much  more  unlikely  is  it,  that  any  one 
should  be  able  to  practise  so  iniquitously 
upon  the  inspired  writings,  when  not  one 
only,  but  unnumbered  copies  were  deposited 
in  the  most  vigilant  hands,  and  dispersed 
throughout  the  world  ? 

I  shall  only  desire  you  to  consult  those 
other  scriptures,  Rom,  xv.  16,  30;  John 
xvi.  13 — 15;  which,  without  heaping  to- 
gether a  multitude  of  other  proofs,  seem  to 
put  the  matter  beyond  all  rational  doubt. 
In  the  last  of  those  places,  you  will  take 
particular  notice  that  the  writer  speaks  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  masculine  gender. 
How  could  this  consist,  with  propriety  of 
style,  upon  any  other  scheme  than  ours? 
The  expression  should  have  been  it,  not  he, 
if  the  Holy  Ghost  were  a  divine  energy 
alone,  and  not  a  real  person.  Nay,  it  is  re- 
markable, that  though  Ylnufio.  be  a  neuterj 
yet  the  historian  varies  the  gender,  and 
gives  us  a  masculine  relative,  Oraf  iK^h 
tKtivo;,  Extivoi  £^t  }o^ci<nj.  And  on  what 
principles  can  this  construction  be  account- 
ed for,  or  justified,  but  by  allowing  the 
Holy  Spirit  to  be  a  person  ?  This  I 
think  is  an  observation  of  some  conse- 
quence ;  and  therefore  accurate  writers 
should  beware  of  using  the  word  it,  and 
rather  choose  the  pronoun  him,  when  speak- 
ing of  this  divine  Being. 

The  mention  of  divine  Being  reminds  me 
of  our  second  subject  of  inquiry,  viz.  Whe- 
ther the  Holy  Ghost  is  very  God  ?  Here 
I  should  be  glad  to  know  what  kind  or  de- 
gree of  evidence  will  satisfy  the  inquirers. 
If  we  are  so  far  humble  and  impartial  as  to 
prefer  the  declarations  of  an  unerring  word 
to  the  preconceptions  of  our  mind,  I  think 
there  is  most  sufficient  proof  afforded  by  the 
Scriptures  ;  whereas,  if  we  bring  not  these 
dispositions  to  the  search,  it  will  be  no  won- 
der if  we  are  bewildered,  if  we  are  given  up 
to  our  own  delusions ;  nay,  it  will  be  no 
incredible,  no  unprecedented  thing,  for  God 
to  hide  these  mysteries  from  such  (in  their 
own  opinion)  wise  and  prudent  ones,  while 
he  reveals  them  to  (men  endued  with  the 
simplicity  and  teachableness  of)  babes. 

Is  that  Being  truly  God,  who  is   pos- 


A  COLLECTION,  OI'   LETTERS- 


70f) 


snssed  of  divine  attributes  ?  This  question, 
]  imagine,  every  body  will  answer  m  tbe 
jillirnKilive.  So  that,  if  it  aiipear>  tliat  liie 
Holy  Ghost  is  invested  with  the  incom- 
nuniicable  attril)Utes  of  tlie  Doity,  our  as- 
sent will  be  won,  and  our  di:>|nite  at  an 
end.  Is  it  not  the  prerogative  of  the  all- 
seeing  God  to  search  the  heart,  and  try  the 
reins  ?  ,)i-r.  xvii.  10  ;  and  is  not  this  the 
undon'itfd  i)rero.!:ative  of  the  blessed  Spirit  ? 
1  Cor.  ii.  !0.  Is  eternity  an  attribute  of 
Ciod,  and  of  God  only?  Deut.  xxxiii.  27. 
1  Tim.  vi.  IG.  This  is  clearly  the  property 
of  the  Holy  Ghost,  w  ho  is  styled,  by  the 
snthor  of  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  the 
Eternal  Spirit,  Heb.  ix.  11.  Is  wisdom, 
nnderived,  essential  wisdom,  a  character  of 
(rod,  called  by  the  apostle,  fio^oi  aaini  Qu;, 
Jude,  verse  25?  This  is  the  illustrious 
character  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  he  is  the 
S()irit  of  wisdom  and  revelation,  Eph.  i.  17. 
In  consequence  of  which  sacred  excellency, 
he  is  able  to  lead  his  people  into  all  truth. 
Is  omnipresen(X'  a  necessary  proof  of  divini- 
ty ?  .  If  so,  the  Holy  Cihost  challenges  it 
upon  this  claim  ;  fur  thus  saith  the  inspired 
poet,  "  Whether  shall  I  go,  then,  from  thy 
Spirit?"  Psalm  exxxix.  7.  Is  Omnipo- 
tence a  sufiicient  attestation  of  the  Godhead 
of  the  Holy  Ghost?  He  that  enableth 
mortals  to  control  the  powers,  to  alter  the 
couise,  to  supersede  the  fundamental  laws 
of  nature,  can  he  be  less  than  the  Lord  God 
Almighty  ?  Yet  St.  Paul  declares,  that  his 
ability  to  work  all  manner  of  astonishing 
niirucics  fur  the  confirmation  of  his  ministry 
Wis  imparted  to  him  by  the  Spirit,  Rom. 
XV-  19-  If  any  farther  proof  is  deman(ied, 
lie  j)Ieased  to  consider,  wiih  an  unprejudiced 
attention,  that  very  memorable  passage, 
Matlh.  xii.  31,  32.  Surely,  from  an  atten- 
tive consideration  of  this  text,  we  must  be 
constrained  to  acknowledge,  that  the  Holy 
(iihost  is  strictly  and  properly  God.  Other- 
wise, how  could  the  sin  against  him  be  of 
so  enormous  a  nature,  so  absolutely  impar- 
donable,  and  the  dreadful  cause  of  inevita- 
ble ruin  ?  St.  Paul,  in  his  first  epistle  to 
the  Corinthians  (vi.  19,)  addresses  his  con  ■ 
verts  with  this  remarkable  piece  of  instruc- 
tion, "  Your  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy 
Ghost."  The  same  apostle,  writing  to  the 
same  believers,  in  his  second  epistle  (vi. 
IG,)  has  the  following  expression,  "  Ye  are 
the  temjiles  of  the  living  God."  Who  can 
compare  the.-.e  texts,  and  yet  be  so  hardy  as 
delibei'atily  to  deny,  that  the  Holy  Ghost 
aiul  tlie  living  God  are  one  and  the  same? 
Besides,  if  these  two  scriptures,  viewed  in 
conjunction  with  each  other,  did  not  ascer- 
tain the  divinity  of  the  blessed  Spirit,  the 
very  juirport  of  the  expression,  Ye  are  tem- 
ples of  the  Holy  Ghost,  sulliciently  evinces 
it.  It  is  certain,  that  the  very  essence  of  a 
temple,  or,   to   speak  in  the  terms  of  the 


logician,  the  {Jiffercnlia  ronstUulita  of  a 
tem-jjle,  consists  in  the  residence  of  a  Deity. 
The  inhabitation  of  the  higtiest  cieated 
Being  cannot  constitute  a  tenijfle  ;  nothing 
but  the  indwelling  of  the  one  infinite  al- 
mighty Lord  (I'od.  Since,  therefore,  the 
indwelling  of  the  Holy  S|)irit  renders  the 
bodies  of  Christians  tenijjles,  it  seems  to  be 
a  clear  case,  that  he  is  truly  God.  Ano- 
ther  text,  a  text  never  onntted  w  hen  this 
point  is  under  debate,  and  a  text,  in  my 
opinion,  singly  sufficient  to  give  a  final  de- 
cision to  the  doubt,  is  in  Acts  v-  3,  4,  where 
the  person  styled  Ayior  iUmfia  in  one  verse, 
is  exjiressly  declared  to  be  Qio;  in  the  next. 
Now,  can  we  in)agine  that  an  (ivancelist. 
under  the  guidance  of  unerring  v\  isaom, 
could  write  with  such  unaccountable  inaccu- 
racy as  the  deiiiers  of  this  artic'e  must 
maintain  ?  Were  this  supposition  admitted, 
I  should  almost  begin  to  question  the  in- 
spiration of  the  sacred  books.  At  this  rate, 
they  would  seem  calculated  to  confound  the 
judgment,  and  elude  the  common  sense  of 
the  readers.  For,  to  speak  so  frequently 
of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost ;  to  speak  in  such  language  as  we 
always  use  in  distinguishing  various  per- 
sons ;  to  ascribe  to  them  severally  such 
attributes  as,  by  universal  acknowledgment, 
comport  only  with  the  supreme  God  ;  nay, 
to  call  each  person  by  hnnself,  distinctly, 
expressly  to  call  each  person  God  and 
Lord  ;  sure,  if,  after  all  these  declarations, 
there  be  not  three  persons  in  the  one  in- 
comprehensible Godhead  ;  if  each  of  these 
illustrious  persons  be  not  very  God  ;  what 
can  we  say,  but  that  the  Scriptures  are 
inconsistent  and  self-contradictory  pieces  ? 
So  that,  upon  the  whole,  we  are  leduced 
to  this  dilemma,  either  to  admit  this  absurd 
and  impious  charge  upon  the  Scriptuies,  or 
else  to  acknowledge  the  personality  and 
divinity  of  the  three  persons  in  the  adoiable 
Trinity. 

But,  perhaps,  a  curious  genius,  that  has 
been  accustomed  to  enter  deep  into  the 
rationale  of  things,  that  thinks  it  beneath  a 
sagacious  inquirer  to  credit,  uidess  he  can 
comprehend, — such  a  genius  may  ask,  with 
a  kind  of  amazement.  How  can  these  things 
lie  ?  Here  I  pretend  to  give  no  satisfaction. 
Here  I  confess  myself  at  a  loss.  I  cannot 
conceive  how  the  principle  of  gravitation 
acts,  or  what  constitutes  the  power  of 
attraction.  If  I  cannot  penetrate  the  hidden 
((ualities  of  a  thousand  common  objects  that 
daily  present  themselves  to  my  senses,  no 
wonder  that  I  should  be  unable  to  unravel  the 
awful  secrets  of  the  divine  nat\ue ;  no  won- 
der that  I  should  be  incapable  of  finding  out  to 
perfection  that  infinite  Majesty  who  dwells  in 
light  inaccessible.  Since  the  re  itvai  is 
iittested  by  a  multitude  of  witnesses  from 
Scripture,  let  us  be  content  to  wait  for  the 
3  u 


770 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


»9  vaif,  till  this  gross  interposing  cloud  of 
flesh  and  mortality  flee  away ;  until  that 
happy  hour  arrives,  that  desirable  state 
commence,  when  we  shall  no  longer  see 
through  a  glass  darkly,  but  shall  know  even 
as  we  are  known. 

I  should  now  proceed,  according  to  the 
ability  which  the  great  Source  of  wisdom 
may  please  to  bestow,  to  examine  Mr. 
Tomkins's  Calm  Inquiry ;  but  this  is  what 
my  time,  claimed  by  a  variety  of  other 
engagements,  will  not  permit ;  and  what,  I 
presume,  you  yourself,  tired  already  by  a 
tedious  epistle,  will  very  readily  excuse. 
Hereafter,  if  you  insist  upon  my  executing 
the  plan  laid  down  in  the  beginning  of  this 
paper,  I  will  communicate  my  remarks  (such 
as  they  are)  relating  to  the  forementioned 
treatise,  with  all  that  cheerful  compliance 
and  unreserved  openness,  which  may  most 
emphatically  bespeak  me,  dear  sir,  yours, 
&c. 


LETTER  XXV. 

Weston  Favell,  Feb.  9.  1745-6. 

Thanks  to  you,  dear  sir,  for  your  kind 
wishes.  Blessed  be  the  divine  Providence, 
I  am  now  able  to  inform  you  that  what  you 
wish  is  accomplished.  I  have  had  one  of 
the  most  agreeable  losses  I  ever  met  with  ; 
I  have  lost  ray  indisposition,  and  am  in  a 
manner  well. 

I  send  herewith  thepoem  on  Christianity. 
The  other  books,  which  you  have  been 
pleased  to  lend  me,  will  follow  by  the  first 
opportunity.  I  read  Mr.  Hobson's  per- 
formance with  eagerness  and  delight.  What 
is  wrote  by  a  valuable  friend,  has  a  kind  of 
secret  unaccountable  charm.  It  may  not 
be  preferable  to  other  compositions,  yet 
methinks  it  pleases  more. 

I  congratulate  you,  sir,  and  my  country, 
on  the  good  news  received  from  the  North. 
— How  do  you  like  Stackhouse's  history  of 
the  Bible?  I  am  sure  he  has  one  advantage 
superior  to  all  the  historians  of  the  world  ; 
that  the  facts  which  he  relates  are  more 
venerable  for  their  antiquity,  more  admirable 
for  their  grandeur,  and  more  important  on 
account  of  their  universal  usefulness.  I 
have  often  thought  that  the  Scripture  is 
finely  calculated  to  furnish  out  the  most  ex- 
quisite entertainment  to  the  imagination, 
from  those  three  principal  sources  mention- 
ed by  Mr.  Addison,  the  great,  the  beautiful, 
and  the  neiv.  But  what  is  that  compared 
with  that  infinitely  noble  benefit,  to  impart 
which  is  their  professed  design — the  benefit 
of  making  us  wise  to  salvation,  of  making 
us  partakers  of  a  divine  nature?     I  am. 


LETTER  XXVI. 

Weston- Favell,  Feb.  11,  \7i5S, 
Deak  Sir, — I  received  your  ticket  som* 
time  ago,  in  which  you  desire  me  to  consi- 
der some  particular  passages  of  Scripture. 
After  an  afflictive  indisposition,  which  con- 
fined me  to  my  room  several  days,  I  have 
examined  the  texts  you  allege.  They 
relate,  I  find,  to  that  grand  question,  which 
has  lately  been  the  subject  of  our  debate, 
the  divinity  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  I 
could  have  wished  that  the  controversy  had 
been  brought  to  a  satisfactory  and  happy 
issue.  Very  unwilling  to  engage  in  it  a 
second  time,  I  roust  beg  leave  to  sue  for 
my  bene  decessit,  and  resign  the  management 
of  so  important  a  dispute  to  incomparably 
more  able  hands.  However,  in  obedience 
to  your  request,  fquidenim  amicitia  denet/aii- 
dum !)  I  shall  briefly  lay  before  you  my 
opinion  concerning  those  portions  of  inspir- 
ed vi^isdom  ;  and  then  proceed,  in  pursuance 
of  my  promise,  to  weigh  with  calmness  and 
impartiality  the  most  material  of  Mr.  Tom- 
kins's objections. 

You  observe,  That  the  Father  is  never 
represented  yielding  obedience  to  Christ,  or 
praying  to  Christ-  I  acknowledge  the  truth 
of  the  remark,  and  assign  this  clear  and 
obvious  reason,  Because  it  was  the  peculiar 
office  of  the  second  person  of  the  Trinity  to 
humble  himself,  to  unite  himself  to  flesh  and 
blood,  and  to  be  made  in  all  things  like  unto 
us,  sin  only  excepted.  Had  not  the  blessed 
Jesus  been  clothed  with  our  nature,  and 
partook  of  our  innocent  infirmities,  we 
should  never  have  heard  any  such  thing  as 
his  yielding  obedience,  or  praying  to  ano- 
ther greater  than  himself.  This  results  not 
from  his  essential,  but  his  assumed  nature ; 
nor  is  it  at  all  repugnant  to  reason,  to  be  in- 
ferior in  one  character,  and  at  the  same 
time  absolutely  equal  in  another.  His 
majesty  King  George  may  be  inferior  to  the 
Emperor  in  the  capacity  of  Elector  of  Han- 
over ;  he  may  be  subject  to  the  imperial 
authority,  as  he  is  a  prince  of  the  Germanic 
body ;  and  yet  equal  to  the  most  illustrious 
monarchs,  obnoxious  to  no  earthly  jurisdic- 
tion, in  his  nobler  quality  of  King  of  Great 
Britain,  France,  and  Ireland.  This  seems 
to  be  a  very  easy  and  natural  solution  of  the 
diflSculty :  whereas,  I  think,  I  may  venture 
to  defy  the  nicest  metaphysician,  or  the 
most  acute  casuist,  to  reconcile  the  notions 
of  divinity  and  inferiority.  As  well  may 
contradictions  be  made  compatible.  A 
God  who  is  inferior,  is,  to  my  apprehension 
a  perfect  paradox.  It  is  necessarily  implied 
in  the  idea  of  God,  that  he  be,  as  our  old 
translation  of  the  Psalms  very  emphatically 
and  beautifully  styles  him.  The  Most  High- 
est.     Therefore,  our  Saviour,  who  often 


A  COrXFXTION  OF  LETTERS- 


771 


&?<:erts  his  claim  to  divinity,  declares,  as  an 
inseparatile  conseqiient  of  this  liigh  prero- 
paiive,  All  tliinirs  which  the  FutliLT  hath 
arc  mine.  Is  the  Father's  existence  incon- 
ceivable and  eternal  ?  the  same  also  is  the 
Son's.  Has  the  Father  an  unequalled  abso- 
lute supremacy  ?  such  likewise  hath  the  Son. 
Hut  I  see  you  have  ready  at  hand  to  ob- 
ject, John  xiv.  28.  My  Father  is  greater 
than  I.  Who  are  we  to  understand  by  the 
person  I  ?  Doubtless  that  Being  who  was 
capalile  of  going  and  coming,  who  was 
sometimes  in  one  p'ace,  and  sometimes  in 
another  ;  now  with  the  disciples  on  earth, 
anon  separated  from  them  by  a  translation 
into  heaven  ;  and  who  can  this  be  but  the 
man  Christ  Jesus,  the  human  nature  of  our 
Redeemer?  The  attribute  of  limited  lo- 
cality determines  this  point  with  the  utmost 
clearness  ;  why  then  should  any  one  apj)ly 
that  property  to  the  Godhead  of  our  blessed 
Master,  which  he  himself  so  plainly  appro- 
pridtes  to  his  manhood  ? 

This  text  very  opportunely  furnishes  us 
with  a  key  to  enter  into  the  true  meaning 
of  your  next  quotation,  1  Cor.  xi.  3.  The 
head  of  Christ  is  God.  Only  let  St.  John 
be  allowed  to  expound  St.  Paul  :  I  ask  this 
single  concession  from  my  worthy  friend, 
(and  sure  it  is  no  unreasonable  one)  :  Let 
us  agree  to  pay  a  greater  deference  to  the 
beloved  disciple's  comment  than  to  Mr. 
Pierce's  paraphrase,  or  the  interpretation  of 
the  Arian  creed,  then  the  sense  will  be  as 
follows,  The  Deity  is  the  head  of  the  Me- 
diator. As  the  members  are  conduct- 
ed by  the  head,  and  subservient  to  the 
head,  so  Christ  Jesus,  in  his  human  ca- 
[)acity,  acted  and  acts  in  subordnmtion  to 
the  CJodhead  ;  obeying  the  significations  of 
his  will,  and  referring  all  his  administrations 
to  his  glory.  This  exposition,  1  imagine, 
the  context  corroborates,  and  the  scoi)e  of 
the  a])oslle's  arguing  requires. 

As  for  Heb.  i.  8,  9.  this  text  affirms,  in 
the  most  express  terms,  that  Christ  is  God. 
And  what  can  be  a  stronger  proof  of  his  un- 
rivalled supremacy  and  sovereignty?  But 
perhaps  this  may  be  one  of  tho^e  places  in 
which,  we  are  informed  !)y  our  objectors, 
the  word  Goo  signifies  no  more  than  a  king 
or  ruler  ;  consequently  does  not  jirove  our 
Bedeemcr  to  lie  God  in  reality,  and  by  na- 
ture, but  only  to  be  complimented  with 
this  appellation  in  respect  of  his  otllce  and 
authority.  I  believe,  sir,  you  will  find, 
upon  a  more  attentive  inquiry,  that  this 
subtile  distinction  is  contrary  to  the  perpe- 
tual use  of  the  Scriptures.  A  very  cele- 
brated cj'itic  observes,  that  wherever  the 
Dame  Klohlm  is  taken  in  an  absolute 
sense,  and  restrained  to  one  particular  per- 
son, (as  il  is  in  the  passage  before  us,)  it 
constantly  denotes  the  true  and  only  (iod. 
Magistrates  are  indeed  said  to  be  Elobini, 


in  relation  to  their  office,  but  no  one  ma- 
gistrate was  ever  so  called  ;  nor  can  it  be 
said  without  blasjiliemy  to  any  one  of  them. 
Thou  art  Elohim,  or  God.  It  is  also 
recorded  of  Moses,  Thou  shalt  ])e  Elohim  ; 
yet  not  absolutely,  but  relatively  only — a 
God  to  Pharaoh,  and  to  Aaron  ;  i.  e.  in 
God's  stead,  doing,  in  the  name  of  God, 
what  he  commanded,  a':d  declaring  what 
he  revealed.  Besides,  does  not  the  apostle 
in  this  very  chapter,  verse  10,  address  the 
following  acknowledgment  to  Christ,  Thou, 
Lord,  in  the  begiimiiig,  hast  laid  the  found- 
ation of  the  earth,  and  the  heavens  are  the 
work  of  thy  hands  ?  And  is  not  the  work 
of  creation  the  unshared  prerogative  and 
honour  of  the  supreme  God?  This  I  am 
pretty  sure  of,  it  is  the  prerogative  of  that 
God  to  whom  the  worship  of  the  saints, 
under  the  Old  Testament,  is  directed  ;  of 
that  God  who  has  declared  himself  jealous 
of  his  honour,  and  resolves  not  to  give  his 
glory  to  another.  Melchisedec  made  this 
illustrious  Being  the  object  of  his  adoration, 
Blessed  be  the  most  high  God,  possessor 
of  heaven  and  tarth.  The  day  is  thine,  and 
the  night  is  thine  ;  thou  hast  prepared  the 
light  and  the  sun — was  judged  by  the 
Psalmist  one  of  the  noblest  ascriptions  of 
praise  which  could  be  made  to  the  Deity. 
Jonah  has  left  us  a  confession  of  his  faith, 
and  an  abstract  of  his  devotion,  in  the  fol- 
lowing words  :  I  fear  the  Lord,  the  God 
of  heaven,  who  hath  iriade  the  sea,  and  the 
dry  land.  Yet  St.  Paul  assiu'es  us,  that 
this  great  Creator  and  Proprietor  of  heaven 
and  earth,  this  object  of  divine  worship  in 
all  ages   of  the   ancient    chmch,   is   he — o 

3/  IvuTH    Km^a^nTf/.ov    Toir,Ta,f/.iviii    Tut  a,y.a^Ticoi 

iffiUM.  ver.  3.  Now,  can  we  view  the  mag- 
nificent system  of  the  universe,  the  immen- 
sity of  its  extent,  the  vast  variety  of  its 
pai-ts,  the  inimitable  accuracy  of  its  struc- 
ture, the  perfect  harmony  of  its  motions, 
together  with  the  astonishing  energy  and 
effects  of  its  mechanic  powers  ;  can  we 
contemplate  this  world  of  wonders,  and 
withhold  ourselves  a  single  moment  from 
ascribing  the  glory  of  incomparable  wisdom 
and  matchless  perfections  to  its  Maker  ? 
(,'an  we  glance  an  eye,  or  start  a  thought, 
through  that  ample  field  of  miracles,  which 
nature  in  all  her  scenes  regularly  exhibits, 
and  still  conclude,  that  the  Author  of  all 
takes  too  much  upon  him  when  he  advances 
tlie  following  claim  ? 


Second  to  iiie,  or  like,  equal  much  less. 

MlLTO-V. 

Possibly  our  sceptical  gentlemen  are 
ready  to  rejdy,  We  :ire  far  from  denying 
that  Christ  made  the  world :  but  we  sup- 
j)ose  that  he  made  it  only  as  a  ministerial 
being  ;  not  by  any  sufficiency  of  his  own, 
but  iiy  a  power  delegated  to  him  from  the 


772 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


intiiiite  Godhead.  But  sure  the  abettors 
of  this  opinion  never  considered  that  em- 
phatical  passage,  Col.  i.  16.  By  whatever 
artful  evasion  they  may  think  to  elude  the 
force  of  the  former  expression,  1  caimot  see 
what  possible  escape  they  can  contrive  from 
the  latter.  It  is  plain,  from  the  philoso- 
phical principles  of  an  apostle,  that  the  uni- 
verse was  formed  by  Christ  as  the  almighty 
Artificer,  for  Christ  as  its  final  end  ;  and 
is  not  this  a  demonstration  that  Christ  was 
not  a  mere  instrument,  but  the  grand,  glo- 
rious, self-sufficient  A^entj  the  Alpha  and 
Omega  of  all  things  ? 

After  all  that  has  been  said  upon  this 
text,  will  it  be  intimated,  that  I  have  been 
p-nrtial  in  my  examination  of  it  ?  that  the 
sentence  which  most  particularly  favours 
your  opinion,  and  looks  with  the  most 
frowning  aspect  upon  mine,  is  passed  over 
without  notice,  namely,  where  it  is  taught, 
That  God  anointed  Christ  with  the  oil  of 
gladness  above  his  fellows  ?  Heb.  i.  9.  I 
reply,  by  owning,  that  these  words  most 
undeniably  imply  inferiority  ;  they  imply  a 
state  of  indigence,  which  wants  something 
it  has  not  naturally  ;  a  state  of  impotence, 
which  receives  from  another  what  it  cannot 
convey  to  itself.  Surely  then,  this  clause 
must,  according  to  all  the  laws  of  just  inter- 
pretation, be  referred  to  that  nature  which 
admitted  of  such  wants,  and  was  subject  to 
such  infirmities.  To  ascribe  it  to  that  na- 
ture which  is  characterised  as  God,  would 
be  almost  as  affronting  to  reason  as  it  is  to 
the  Deity.  It  is  farther  observable,  that 
the  very  expression  limits  the  sense  to  that 
capacity  of  our  Redeemer,  in  which  others 
stood  related  to  him  as  his  fellows  :  And 
can  this  be  any  other  tlian  the  human  ?  Let 
me  add  one  word  more  before  I  dismiss  this 
inquiry  :  Suppose  I  was  to  shift  sides  in 
the  dispute,  and'  turn  the  tables  upon  the 
disciples  of  Arius.  Gentlemen,  since  you 
take  so  much  pains  to  prove  the  inferiority 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  permit  me  to 
try  if  I  cannot  outshoot  you  in  your  own 
bow.  I  will  undertake  to  show,  on  your 
own  principles,  that  he  was  inferior  to  mil- 
lions of  created  beings ;  for  this  I  have  the 
positive  and  sure  evidence  of  Scripture, 
We  see  Jesus,  who  was  made  a  little  lower 
than  the  angels,  Heb.  ii.  9.  1  hese  gen- 
tlemen, I  verily  think,  would  have  so  nmch 
regard  for  the  honour  of  a  person  on  whom 
their  everlasting  all  depends,  as  to  answer, 
with  some  becoming  spirit.  You  are  to 
distinguish  between  what  our  Saviour  was 
made  occasionally,  and  what  he  was  ori- 
ginally :  Though  his  human  nature  was 
taken  from  a  class  of  beings  lower  in  dig- 
nity than  the  angels,  yet  his  nobler  and  more 
exalted  nature  was  greatly  superior  to  them 
all.  Now,  sir,  as  we  must  have  recourse 
sometimes  tp  this    distinction,   our  adver- 


saries themselves  being  our  judges  and  our 
precedent,  why  should  we  not  carry  it  along 
with  US  continually?  Without  it,  a  multi- 
tude of  texts  appear  perplexed  in  their 
meaning,  and  clash  v.'ith  other  scriptures  ; 
with  it,  they  drop  their  obscurity,  are  dis- 
entangled from  their  intricacy,  and  harmo- 
nise entirely  with  the  whole  tenor  of  sacred 
writ. 

I  Cor.  XV.  28,  is  another  scripture  point- 
ed out  for  consideration.  This,  I  confess, 
is  a  difficult,  and  admitting  it  was  (to  me  at 
least)  an  unintelligible  passage,  nay  direct- 
ly repugnant  to  my  hypothesis,  what  would 
be  a  rational  procedure  in  this  case  ?  To 
renounce  my  faith,  because  I  cannot  recon- 
cile it  with  one  scripture,  though  it  stands 
supported  by  a  copious  multiplicity  of  others? 
If,  in  debating  on  any  question,  there  be  five 
liundred  ayes,  and  but  one  no,  I  appeal  to 
the  conduct  of  the  honourable  House  of 
Commons,  whether  it  be  reasonable  that  the 
point  should  be  carried  by  the  single  nega- 
tive, in  opposition  to  so  vast  a  majority  of 
affirmatives  ?  However,  the  state  of  our 
doctrine  is  not  so  bad,  nor  this  text  so  dia- 
metrically opposite  to  it,  as  to  destroy  all 
hopes  of  establishing  it  with  a  nemine  con- 
tradicente.  The  apostle  affirms,  that  at  the 
consummation  of  terrestrial  things,  when 
the  state  of  human  probation  ends,  and  the 
number  of  the  elect  is  completed,  then  shall 
the  Son  also  himself  be  subject  unto  him 
that  put  all  things  under  him,  that  God  may 
be  all  in  all :  i.  e.  according  to  my  judgment, 
the  Son,  at  the  commencement  of  that  grand 
revolution,  will  entirely  resign  the  adminis- 
tration of  his  mediatorial  kingdom  ;  he  will 
no  longer  act  as  an  advocate  or  intercessor, 
because  the  reasons  on  which  this  office  is 
founded,  will  cease  for  ever  ;  he  will  no 
longer,  as  a  high-priest,  plead  his  atoning 
blood  in  behalf  of  sinners,  nor,  as  a  king, 
dispense  the  succours  of  his  sanctifying 
grace,  because  all  guilt  will  be  done  away, 
and  the  actings  of  corruption  be  at  an  end : 
he  will  no  longer  be  the  medium  of  his 
people's  access  to  the  knowledge  and  enjoy- 
ment of  the  Father,  because  then  they  will 
stand  perpetually  in  the  beatific  presence, 
and  see  face  to  face,  know  even  as  they  are 
known.  I  may  probably  mistake  the  mean- 
ing of  the  words,  but  whatever  sh;dl  appear 
to  be  their  precise  signilication,  this,  I  think, 
is  so  clear  as  not  to  admit  of  any  doubt, 
that  it  relates  to  an  incaiiiute  person  ;  re- 
lates to  him  who  died  for  our  sins,  was 
buried  and  rose  again,  1  Cor.  xv.  3,  4. 
And  can  the  surrender  of  all  authority  made 
by  the  man  Jesus  Christ,  be  any  bar  to  his 
unlimited  equality  as  God? 

You  refer  me  to  Psalm  viii.  5,  and  Ixxxii, 
1,  6.  Exod.  xxii.  28,  and  add,  these  texts 
prove  that  God  signifies,  in  some  places, 
hiiig   or    luler.      I    acknowledge    that   the 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


773 


word  Elohim,  in  the  afore-cited  passages, 
signifies   no    more    than   angels,   kings,  or 
rulers.      But  is  this  a  demonstration  that 
the    word    Jehovah,    the    incommunicable 
name,  signifies  no  more   than  an   angel,  a 
king,  or  a  ruler  ?     This  is  the  conclusion 
our  adversaries  are  to  infer ;  this  the  point 
they  are  to  make  good,  otherwise  tlieir  at- 
tempts drop  short  of  the  mark,  tly  wide  from 
their   purpose  -.     Because   it  is  j)lain  from 
incontestable  authorities,  that  Jesus  is  Je- 
hovah.    This  was  hinted  in  a  former  letter ; 
and  if  you  please  to  compare    Isa.    vi.   3, 
with   John  xii.   4J,  you  will   find  another 
convincing  evidence,  that  the  Jehovah  of 
the  Jews  is  the   Jesus  of  the   Christians. 
Besides,  in  all  those  places  where  the  term 
God  is  used  to  denote  some  created  being, 
invested    with    considerable    authority,    or 
possessed  of  considerable  dignity,  the  con 
nexion  is  such  as  absolutely  to  exclude  the 
person  so  denominated  from  any  title  to  a 
divine  nature ;    whereas,    when   the  name 
God  is  applied  to  the  second  person  of  the 
Trinit}',  it  is  coimected  with  such  conse- 
quents or  antecedents  as  necessarily  include 
the  idea  of  divinity  and  supremacy.      For 
instance,  when  the  apostle  recognises  the 
Deity  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  in  those 
remarkable  words,    Rom.  ix.  5,    Who   is 
God — lest  this  idle  piece  of  sophistry  should 
have  any  room   for  admittance,  he  adds  a 
most  determining  clause — over  all,  blessed 
for  ever.      I   have   called  it  idle  sophistry, 
for  really  it  is  nothing  else.      C^ily  observe 
the  process  of  the  pretended  argument,  and 
you  yourself  will  allow  it  no  better  appella- 
tion.     What  is  designed  for  the  argument 
runs  thus  :     Because  rulers  of  distinction 
have  sometimes  the  title  of  Elohim,  there- 
fore Jesus,  who  has  the  title  of  Jehovah, 
is  not  very  God,  but  only  a  ruler  of  distinc- 
tion :    Or,  the  word  God,  when  necessarily 
determined  by  the  context  to  some  subor- 
dinate being,  signifies  a  subordinate  being  ; 
therefore  the  word  God,   when  necessarily 
determined   by  the   context  to  signify  the 
supreme  God,  does  not  signify  the  supreme 
God,    but    only    some    subordinate    being. 
These  are  the  mighty  reasonings,  such  the 
formidable  artillery,  with  which  the  adhe- 
rents   of    Arius   attack    the    divinity   and 
etjuality  of  our  Saviour.     j\Liy  the  arms  of 
our  foreign  enemies  iuid  intestine  rebels  be 
made  in  their  kind,  of  such  metal,  consist 
of  such  strength !  and   I  may  ventui-e  to 
address  my  countrymen  hi  Lavid's  encou- 
raging language.  Let  no  man's  heart  fail 
because  of  them. 

I  ho])e  it  will  not  be  objected,  that  I  have 
sometimes  mistook  the  jiarticular  jioint  to 
be  discussed,  and  confounded  the  divinity 
of  our  Lord  with  his  equality  to  the  Fa- 
ther. I  own  I  have  not  been  scrupulously 
careful  to   preserve   any  such  distinction.. 


because  I  am  persuaded  it  is  perfectly  chi- 
merical.  Whoever  admits  the  former  grants 
the  latter  ;  the  one  cannot  subsist  without 
the  other  ;  or  rather  they  are  one  and  the 
same  thing.      To  be  equal  with  the  Father 
is  to  be  divine  ;  and  to  be  divine  is  to  be 
equal  uith  the  Father.      An  inferior  deity 
was  a  notion    that  passed   current  in  the 
heathen  world  ;  but  we  have  not  so  learned 
the  divine  nature  as  to   adopt  it  into  oiu' 
creed.     It  is  a  proposition   that  confutes 
itself.      The  predicate  and  subject  are  self- 
contradictory.    God  certainly  means  a  being 
of  incomparable,  unjiaralleled  glory  and  per- 
fection.    No  one  will  dare  to  give  a  lower 
definition  of  the  Godhead.     Yet  this  the 
first  term  of  the  sentence  affirms,  the  second 
denies.     Whenever  I  hear  the  awful  word 
God,  I  form  an  idea  of  a  being  possessed 
of  absolute  supremacy.      Inferiority  is  alto- 
gether as  inconsistent  with  my  apprehen- 
sion of  the  Godhead,  as  a  limited  extension 
is  with  immensity.    The  schoolmen's  maxim 
is  strictly  true  when  applied  to  the  divine 
nature,  that  his  properties  and  excellencies 
null  recipiunt  magis  aut  minus.    Besides,  sir, 
is  there  not  another  apparent  inconveniency, 
another  inextricable  difficulty,  attending  this 
superfine  distinction  ?     Does   it  not   sup- 
pose, instead  of  distinct   persons,  distinct 
beings,  distinct  essences  ?     That  which  is 
inferior  cannot  be  the  very  same  with  its 
superior.      Identity,   in   this  case,  consists 
not  with  inequality.      The  consequence  of 
this  tenet  is  polytheism. 

For  my  part,  I  lay  it  down  as  an  incon- 
testable principle,  such  as  reason  and  Scrip- 
ture concur  to  establish,  that  whatever, 
whosoever  is  God,  must  be  absolutely  su- 
preme. I  then  proceed  to  examine,  whether 
the  divine  names,  attributes,  honours  ;  those 
which  are  iiicommunicably  divine,  which 
flow  from  the  divine  essence,  which  cannot 
comport  with  a  finite  existence,  but  are  the 
sole  prerogative  of  the  unequalled  God  ; 
whether  these  are  in  Scripture  clearly  as- 
cribed to  the  sacred  person  of  the  Son  ;  if 
they  are,  my  reason  requires  me  to  believe 
that  he  is  very  God,  and  co-equal  with  the 
Father.  My  reason,  in  her  sedatest  mo- 
ments, assures  me,  that  Scripture  cannot 
deceive,  though  I  may  be  unable  to  con- 
ceive. ]VIy  reason  declares,  that  I  shiill  be 
a  rebel  against  her  laws,  if  I  do  not  submit 
to  this  determination  of  Scripture,  as  de- 
cisive, as  infallible. — I  lun,  &c- 


LETTER  XXVII. 

Weston-FaveU,  April  1,  17-16. 
Dkar  Sir, —  If  you  can  spare  the  Night- 
Thoiights,   the  bearer  of  this  ticket   will 
bring  them  fcafely  to  Weston.     I  propose 


774 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


to  read  them  when  business  is  done,  and 
the  day  is  fled  ;  so  that  the  time  may  cor- 
respond with  tlie  subject. 

I  hope  the  bookseller  has,  before  this 
time,  waited  on  you  with  the  little  volume 
which  desires  your  acceptance.  Was  it  to 
pass  through  my  hands  before  it  was  pre- 
sented, I  should  almost  be  induced  to  in- 
scribe it  with  that  pretty  line  in  Virgil, 
Munera  parva  quidem,  at  magnum  testantur  amorem. 

Pray,  do  you  think  that  passage,  Luke 
VI-  38.  ewtrvrtv  n;  nv  koXttov  vfjiut,  is  rightly 
rendered  by  our  translators.  Shall  men  give 
into  your  bosom  ?  Is  the  idea  of  men  ne- 
cessarily implied  in  the  original  ?  Or  can 
fact  and  experience  justify  the  translators 
in  giving  this  sense  to  the  original '  God, 
and  conscience,  and  a  future  state,  will  am- 
ply recompense  the  beneficent ;  but  whether 
men,  the  generality  of  men  in  this  world, 
are  thus  generous  and  grateful,  seems  to  be 
a  point  that  wants  conlirmation.  This  re- 
mark was  suggested  in  perusing  the  place  ; 
but  I  submit  it  to  your  judgment,  and  re- 
main, dear  sir,  &c. 


LETTER  XXVIIL 

Weaton-FaveU,  Nov.  22,  1 746. 

Dear  Sir, — As  I  cannot  attend  the  in- 
firmary this  day,  permit  me  to  take  this  op- 
portunity of  acknowledging  the  favour  of 
your  last. 

The  sermon  you  vras  pleased  to  lend  me 
I  admire.  Christ  the  great  propitiation  is, 
with  me,  a  most  favourite  subject ;  and  I 
think  the  author  has  been  so  happy  as  to 
treat  it  in  a  clear,  nervous,  pathetic  manner. 
I  am  delighted  with  his  reply,  and  rejoice  to 
observe  that  it  has  passed  a  second  edition. 
I  hope  the  antidote  will  operate,  and  spread 
as  wide  as  the  poison.  This  writer  has  an- 
other recommendation:  His  conciseness, 
added  to  perspicuity,  renders  his  arguments 
easy  to  be  apprehended,  and  not  difficult  to 
be  remembered.  I  am  so  much  charmed 
with  his  performance,  that  I  beg  leave  to 
jceep  it  a  few  days  longer  ;  and  should  take 
it  as  a  favour,  if,  in  the  mean  time,  you  will 
give  the  bookseller  an  order  to  send  for  one 
of  the  sermons  for  me. 

I  heartily  applaud  that  zeal  you  show  for 
the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  patients.  The 
infirmary  would  be  an  inestimable  blessing, 
if,  by  the  grace  of  God,  it  might  be  produc- 
tive of  a  reformation  in  the  persons  whom 
it  admits  and  discharges.  As  distressed 
objects  will,  in  all  probability,  resort  to  it 
from  all  parts  of  the  country,  a  change 
wrought  in  their  hearts,  and  a  renewal  be- 
gun in  their  lives,  niight  be  a  happy  means 
of  diffusing  religion  far  and  near.  I  hope 
the  clergy  concerned  in  the  management  of 


the  infirmary  will,  with  delight  and  assidu- 
ity, concur  in  the  prosecution  of  so  desir- 
able an  end.  I  can  promise  for  one,  so  far 
as  God  shall  give  him  ability.  I  wish  some 
proper  scheme  was  contrived  for  the  execu- 
tion of  this  design,  in  which  I  might  bear 
some  little  part,  without  giving  umbrage  to 
my  brethren,  or  alarming  their  jealousy.  I 
have  sometimes  thought  of  offernig  to  give 
the  patients  a  kind  of  lecture  or  exhortation 
once  a- week,  formed  upon  some  or  other  of 
those  Scriptures  which  are  the  standing  me- 
mentos of  their  wards."  But  sometimes 
doubtfid  whether  such  a  proposal  would 
meet  with  acceptance,  sometimes  checked 
by  the  infirmities  of  my  constitution,  I  have 
hitherto  neglected  to  mention  the  affair ; 
however,  I  now  venture  to  submit  it  to  your 
consideration.  To  this,  or  any  other  more 
advisable  method,  I  shoiUd  very  readily  con- 
tribute the  best  of  my  assistance. 

"  Are  you  inclined,  dear  sir,  to  give  the 
poor  creatures  all  the  instruction  in  the 
Christian  religion  you  are  capable  of?"  We 
take  you  at  your  word  ;  and  henceforward 
look  upon  you  as  an  associate  in  om-  great 
work.  In  a  warfare  of  such  unspeakable 
importance,  we  are  glad  to  strengthen  our 
force  by  the  accession  of  every  ally  ;  much 
more  of  such  an  auxiliary,  as  will  be  regard- 
ed by  the  patients  with  an  uncommon  de- 
gree of  attention  and  pleasure.  Nor  can  I 
think  it  anywise  inconsistent  with  the  office 
of  a  physician,  or  any  derogation  from  the 
dignity  of  !iis  character,  to  feel  the  pidse  of 
the  soul,  to  examine  into  the  symptoms  of 
spiritual  maladies,  to  ask  exploring  ques- 
tions concerning  the  habit  of  the  mind,  and 
prescribe  accordingly,  either  for  the  purging 
oflf  the  peccant  humours  of  vice,  or  corro- 
borating the  relaxed  powers  of  grace. 

May  that  infiiutely  condescending  and 
compassionate  Being,  who  disdained  not  in 
his  own  sacred  person  to  take  our  sicknesses, 
and  bear  our  infirmities,  both  direct  your 
counsels,  and  prosper  your  endeavours  ii. 
this  momentous  affair. 

I  purpose  to  wait  upon  you  some  after- 
noon in  the  next  week,  and  cannot  think  of 
a  more  agreeable  topic  of  conveisation,  than 
that  of  concerting  measiu"es  for  the  proper 
exertion  of  this  labour  of  love,  and  encou- 
raging each  other  to  abound  in  the  work  of 
the  Lord.     I  am,  dear  sir,  &c. 


LETTER  XXIX. 

Weston- FavelL  March  1745-6. 
Dear  Sir, — In  a  former  letter  I  consi- 
dered, Whether  the  blessed  Spirit  is  really  a 


*  Texts  of  Scripture  in  the  Northampton,  Win- 
chester, and  several  other  infirmaries,  are  written  on 
the  walls,  and  consequently  are  \ciy  useful,  if  se- 
riously reflected  on. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


775 


distinct  person  ;  whetlipr  tliis  person  is  truly 
and  properly  (iod  ?  It  appeared,  from  a 
variety  of  Scriptures,  that  both  these  ques- 
tions were  to  be  resolved  in  the  affirmative. 
These  preliminaries  being  settled,  1  would 
liope,  with  some  perspicuity  of  reason  and 
strength  of  argument,  I  now  proceed,  in 
consefjueiiee  of  my  engagement,  to  examine 
j\Ir.  Tomkins's  objections  against  the  re- 
ceived custom  of  addressing  divine  worship 
to  this  divine  Being. 

The  author,  1  freely  acknowledge,  writes 
with  a  great  apjjearance  of  integrity  ;  with 
a  calm  and  decent  spirit  of  controversy;  and 
with  a  very  plausible  air  of  truth.  As  the 
subject  of  his  inquiry  is  of  the  highest  dig- 
nity and  importance,  as  his  method  of  ma- 
naging the  debate  is,  to  say  the  least,  by  no 
means  contemptible,  I  cannot  forbear  ex- 
pressing some  surprise,  that  none  of  the  in- 
genious dissenters  to  whom  the  piece  is  par- 
ticulaiiy  inscribed,  have  thought  proper  to 
interest  themselves  in  the  dispute,  and  ei- 
ther confute  what  is  urged,  or  else  (like 
persons  of  that  inviolable  attachment  to  the 
pure  scriptural  worship  wliich  they  profess) 
recede  from  the  use  of  their  allowed  doxo- 
logies. 

For  my  part,  as  I  firmly  believe  it  a  pro- 
per practice  to  worship  the  Son,  as  we  wor- 
ship the  Father,  and  to  worship  the  Holy 
Ghost,  as  we  worship  the  other  persons  of 
the  undivided  Trinity,  I  am  so  far  from  dis- 
apjiroving,  that  I  admire  our  customaiy  dox- 
■ology,  and  think  it  a  very  noble  and  instruc- 
tive part  of  our  sacred  service.  Noble,  be- 
cause it  exhibits  one  of  the  grand  mysteries 
and  glorious  peculiarities  of  the  gospel ; — 
instructive,  because  it  so  frequently  reminds 
the  worshipper  of  a  point  which  it  so  greatly 
concems  him  to  believe,  and  which  is  fitted 
to  inspire  the  brightest,  the  strongest  hopes, 
■of  final,  of  complete  salvation. 

But,  lest  this  persuasion  should  be  deemed 
the  crude  production  of  early  prejudice,  ra- 
ther than  the  mature  fruit  of  sedate  consi- 
deration, we  will  Aery  readily  hear  whatever 
can  be  alleged  against  it  ;  and  not  willingly 
secrete  one  objection,  or  misrepresent  one 
argument,  occurring  in  the  inquiry. 

"  Let  it  be  supposed,"  says  our  author, 
"  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  one  of  the  persons 
of  the  Godhead  ;  I  still  query.  What  war- 
rant Christians  have  for  a  direct  and  distinct 
worship  of  this  third  person  in  the  God- 
head ?"  (page  1 .)  I  should  think  there  can 
be  no  reasonable  doubt,  whether  worship  is 
to  be  paid  to  the  Divinity.  Thou  shalt 
worship  the  Lonl  thy  God,  is  a  law  of  in- 
contestable authority,  and  eternal  obliga- 
tion. As  for  the  circumstances  of  worship 
included  in  its  being  direct,  this  cannot  alter 
the  case,  nor  render  the  practice  improper. 
According  to  my  apprehension,  all  true  and 
genuine  worship  is  direct.    If  it  be  address- 


ed to  the  divine  object  at  second  hand,  it 
has  more  of  the  nature  of  idolatry  than  wor- 
ship. Such  is  the  religious  foppery  of  the 
Papists,  who  will  not  apply  directly  to  the 
Father  of  everlasting  compassion,  but  adore 
God,  as  it  were,  by  proxy.  With  regard  to 
the  distinctness  of  the  worship,  this  depends 
entirely  upon  the  Scripture's  distinguishing 
their  persons.  If  this  be  clearly  done,  the 
distinctness  of  worship  is  properly  author- 
ized, and  the  fitness  of  it  follows  of  course. 
If  the  ins])ired  writers  assure  us  that  the 
Father  is  God,  this  is  a  sufficient  warrant 
to  pay  divine  honours  to  the  Father.  If 
the  inspired  writers  affirm  that  the  Son  is 
God,  this  is  a  sufficient  ground  for  ascrib- 
ing divine  honours  to  the  Son.  If  the  same 
inspired  writers  declare  that  the  Holy  Ghost 
is  God,  we  need  do  clearer  warrant,  nor  can 
we  ha\e  a  louder  cidl,  to  pay  him  our  de- 
voutest  homage.  In  a  word,  it  is  the  voice 
of  reason,  it  is  the  command  of  Scripture,  it 
is  founded  on  the  unalterable  relation  of 
things,  that  worship,  direct  worship,  distinct 
worship,  all  worship,  be  rendered  to  the 
Deity.  So  that  the  divinity  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  exclusive  of  any  apostolical  precept 
or  example,  is  an  incomparably  better  rea- 
son for  ascribing  divine  honours  to  this  sa- 
cred person,  than  the  bare  want  of  such  pre- 
cept or  example  can  be  a  reason  to  justify 
the  omission,  or  condemn  the  performance 
of  it. 

I  am  no  advocate  for  implicit  faith  in  any 
human  determination  or  opinion.  Should  I 
see  whole  sects,  or  whole  churches  in  a 
glaring  error,  such  as  I  can  prove  from 
Scripture  to  be  palpably  wrong,  and  of  per- 
nicious tendency,  I  would  make  no  scruple 
to  remonstrate,  dissent,  and  enter  my  pro- 
test. But  in  a  case,  which  Mr.  Tomkins 
himself  (page  2,  line  19.)  allows  to  be  of  a 
dubious  nature  ;  where  I  have  no  positive 
I)roof  from  God's  holy  word  that  the  prac- 
tice is  unlawful  or  improper ;  I  cannot  but 
apprehend,  that  it  becomes  a  modest  person, 
diffident  of  his  own  judgment,  to  acquiesce 
in  the  general,  the  long-continued  usage  of 
all  the  churches.  This  is  urged  by  an  in- 
spired writer  as  a  forcible  motive  for  reject- 
ing a  practice ;  and  why  should  not  I  admit 
it  as  a  motive  of  weight  for  adhering  to  a 
practice  ?  We  have  no  such  custom,  nei- 
ther  the  churches  of  God,  (1  Cor.  xi.  16.) 
was  an  apostolical  argument.  And  in  an 
instance  where  we  are  not  precluded  by  any 
prohibition  of  Scripture,  I  think  the  rea- 
soning is  equally  conclusive  if  changed  to 
the  affirmative.  We  have  such  a  custom, 
and  the  churches  of  God.  Was  I  to  settle 
my  oj)inion,  and  adjust  my  conduct,  with 
regard  to  such  a  point,  I  should  be  inclined 
to  argue  in  the  following  manner  :  I  cannot 
bring  one  text  from  the  sacred  writings 
which  forbids  the  usage  ;  and  as  it  is  unani- 


77G 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


mously  practised  by  devout  persons  of  al-   Iiiul  never  been  given.     If  this  be  not  true, 


most  every  denomination,  as  it  has  been  the 
received,  the  uninterrupted  practice  of  the 
Christian  church  for  more  than  a  thousand 
years  ;  who  am  I,  that  1  should  disturb  the 
peace,  or  separate  myself  from  the  commu- 
nion of  the  church,  for  a  jjrocedure  which 
such  multitudes  of  excellent  persons  main- 
tain to  be  consonant,  and  which  I  cannot 
prove  to  be  contrary,  to  the  sense  of  Scrip- 
ture? Who  am  I,  that  I  should  fancy 
myself  to  have  more  of  the  mind  of  God 
than  the  whole  united  church  of  true  be- 
lievers, eminent  saints,  and  illustrious  mar- 
tyrs? 

"  But  there  is  no  precept  for  this  worship 
in  Scripture,"  (page  L)  and  Dr.  Owen 
affirms,  "  That  a  divine  command  is  the 
ground"  (he  means,  I  presume,  the  only 
ground,  or  else  the  quotation  is  nothing  to 
our  author's  puqiose)  "  of  all  worship," 
(page  25.)  Dr.  Owen's  character,  I  own, 
is  considerable,  as  well  as  his  assertion  per- 
emptoiy  ;  but  yet  I  cannot  prevail  on  my- 
self to  submit  to  his  ipse  dixit  as  an  oracle, 
nor  reverence  his  judgment  as  infallible.  1 
would  ask  the  Doctor,  What  divine  com- 
mand the  Heathens  ever  received  to  worship 
the  blessed  God  ?  I  know  of  no  verbal  or 
written  precept.  But  they  saw  their  war- 
rant included  in  their  wants  ;  they  ])erceiv- 
ed  their  obligation  resulting  from  the  divine 
attributes.  Will  Dr.  Owen  maintstin,  that 
no  worship  was  expected  from  the  Pagans  ? 
that  they  had  been  blameless,  and  acted 
according  to  the  principles  of  their  duty,  if 
they  had  withheld  all  acts  of  veneration 
from  the  Deity  ?  No,  surely.  St.  Paul, 
in  declaring  them  faulty  for  not  worshipping 
the  Almighty  in  such  a  rational  manner  as 
was  suitable  to  his  })ure  and  exalted  nature, 
clearly  intimates,  that  it  was  their  duty  both 
to  worship,  and  to  worship  aiight.  It  is 
not  said  by  the  apostle,  though  it  is  the 
consequence  of  the  Doctor's  position,  that 
they  ought  to  have  refiained  from  all  wor- 
ship, and  not  have  meddled  with  matters  of 
devotion,  till  they  received  an  authentic 
warrant  from  revelation.  The  inspired 
casuist  grounds  his  duty,  in  this  particidar, 
upon  the  eternal  power  and  Godhead  ( Rom. 
i.  20.)  of  the  Supreme  Being,  which  were 
discoverable  by  the  exercise  of  their  under- 
standings, and  from  a  survey  of  the  creation. 
In  conformity  to  the  apostle's  sentiments, 
I  should  rather  place  the  foundation  of 
rebgious  worship  in  the  glories,  the  mercies, 
the  unsearchable  riches,  of  the  almighty 
Majesty.  These,  together  with  the  relation 
which  dependent  creatm'es  bear  to  this  }U1- 
producing,  all-sustaining,  infinitely  benefi- 
cent God,  are  the  grand  warrant  to  autho- 
rize addresses  of  adoration.  These  are 
reasons  prior  to  all  express  revelations,  and 
would  have  subsisted  if  actual  commands 


what  will  become  of  all  natural  religion  ? 
Scripture,  indeed,  has  declared  explicitly 
the  binding  nature  of  these  motives  ;  Scri])- 
ture,  like  a  siicred  herald,  has  pronudg^ted 
what  God  foreordained,  what  reason  had 
decreed,  what  necessarily  tiowed  Irom  the 
habitudes  of  persons  and  things.  Or,  to 
represent  the  point  in  another  light,  the 
perfections  of  the  Godliead  are  the  original, 
the  inviolable  obligation  to  all  expressions 
of  homage  and  devotion  :  to  r;itify  this 
obl.gation,  and  impart  to  it  all  possihle  so- 
lei'.inity  and  sanction,  Scripture  has  added 
the  broad  seal  of  heaven.  If  this  be  right 
reason,  and  if  the  Holy  Glujst  be  really 
God,  his  all-sufficient  excellencies,  and  my 
state  of  dependence,  are  a  proper  license, 
or  rather  a  virtual  mandamus,  for  the  ajijili- 
cations  of  prayer  and  the  ascriptions  of 
])raise.  Grant  this  one  proposition  relating 
to  the  divinity  of  the  blessed  Spirit,  and 
admit  that  his  eternal  power  and  Godhead 
are  a  sufficient  ground  for  religious  worship, 
and  we  shall  find  ourselves  unavoidably  de- 
termined. We  m.ust  rebel  against  oiu- 
reason,  must  violate  the  dictates  of  our 
conscience,  must  act  in  oj)position,  not  to 
one  particular  text,  but  to  the  main  tenor 
and  scope  of  the  whole  Scri])ture,  if  we  do 
not  render  all  the  service,  yield  all  the  re- 
verence due  to  a  glorious  Being,  in  whom 
we  live,  move,  and  exist. 

But  still  we  are  told,  in  various  places, 
again  and  again  we  are  told,  "  That  there 
is  no  express  warrant."  Prodigious  stress 
is  laid  upon  this  word  express ;  the  whole 
force  of  the  objection  seems  to  terminate  on 
this  point.  There  is  no  express  warrant, 
therefore  it  is  an  unwarrantable  practice. 
For  my  part,  I  have  not  discenunent  enough 
to  perceive  the  conclusiveness  of  this  ar- 
guing. I  must  beg  leave  to  deny  the  con- 
sequence of  such  a  syllogism.  I'or  if  the 
sense  of  various  Scriptures  has  made  it  a 
duty,  this  is  warrant  enough,  though  it  be 
not  particularly  enjoined,  or  tolerated  in 
form.  This  maxim  our  ingenious  author 
will  admit  in  other  cases,  and  why  not  in 
the  present?  There  is  no  express  com- 
mand to  add  any  prayer  at  the  celebration 
of  baptism.  When  our  Lord  instituted  the 
ordinance,  he  only  delivers  the  foiin  of 
initiation  into  the  Christian  chiu-ch,  without 
any  prescription  relating  to  concomitant 
prayer.  When  Philip  administered  this 
sacrament  to  the  eunuch,  there  is  no 
mention  of  any  address  to  the  Almighty, 
pertinent  to  the  occasion.  I  cannot  recol- 
lect, that  any  of  the  holy  writers  either 
inform  the  world  that  they  practised  such 
a  method  themselves,  or  so  much  as  inti- 
mate that  they  would  advise  others,  in  suc- 
ceeding ages,  to  accompany  this  solemnity 
with  suitable  devotions,     iiut   though'  we 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


777 


have  no  positive  iiijiinctioii,  wc  Iiave  the 
ii.'iisoiiiibleiiess  rX  the  thiiii^  for  our  ].'U'a. 
Otht-r  Scrip* lavs,  that  viruiall}-,  tl;oii,L;li  not 
explicitly  rfcoiniiieiul  ir,  iire  our  warrant. 
In  every  thing,  says  St.  Paul,  let  your 
requests  be  made  known  unto  tiod  ;  con- 
seiiuently,  in  this  sacred  and  important 
thing. 

I  must  again  declare,   tliat    I  can  by  no 
means  assent  to  our  author's   grand  postu- 
latum,  That  nothing  in  the  way  of  divine 
worship  is  allowable,   but  what  has  an  ex- 
press  warrant    from    Scripture.       Because 
virtual  warrants  are  warrants  ;  consequen- 
tial warrants  are  wari'ants.      Our  objector 
must  maintain  tliis  in  some  instances,  and 
why  should  he  disclaim  it  in  others  ?     To 
be  consistent  in  conduct  is  surely  essential 
to  the   character  of  an   inipartiiJ  inquirer 
after  truth.     Shall  such  an  one  sometimes 
reject  an  lU'gunient  as  weak  and  insignificant 
because  it  liap|,>ens  to  be  illative  only,  and 
not  direct;  and  at  other  times   urge   it   as 
cogent   and  irrefiagable  ?      1  will  mention 
one  very  memorable  particular  of  this  na- 
ture ;    that    is,    the  case    of    the    Lord's 
day.      Why    does    Mr.    Tomkins   transfer 
the    sanctilication     of    a    particular     day 
from   the   seventh    to   the   first?     Has  he 
any    express  conmiand    in    Serii)ture.    any 
express  warrajit  from  Scri])ture  for   this  al- 
teration ?     ]f  he  hius,   let  him  produce  it. 
I  must  own,   I  have  none  but   consequen- 
tial warrants;  wari'ants  formed  ujjon  con- 
clusions, and  derived  from  some  remarkable 
scriptures;  but  these  not  near  so  ninnerous, 
nor  near  so  ponderous,  as  those  which  con- 
cur to  establish   the    divinity  of  the    Holy 
Ghost.      Kow,  if  an  exj)ress  warrant  be  not 
needful  in  the  one,  why  should  it  be  so  ri- 
gorously insisted  on  in  the  other  duty?     If 
then  this  leading  principle  of  our  author's  be 
fidse  or  precarious,  what   truth,    what  cer- 
tainty can  there  be  in  any,  in  all  his  deduc- 
tions from  it  ?     If  the  groundwork   be  un- 
substantial,   and   the   foundation   fall,  what 
solidity  can  there  be  in  the  sui)erstructure  ? 
how  can  the  building  stand  ?     Possibly  Mr. 
Tomkins  may  reply,  "  the  example  of  the 
primitive    cluurh    determines    this    point." 
We  find,  it  was  the  custom  of  the  earliest 
anticjuity  to  observe   the   Christian   sabbath 
on  the  first  day  of  the  week  ;  and   there- 
fore have  very  good  leason    to  believe   that 
the  usage  was  established  by  apostolical  au- 
thority.     And  may  not  I  say  the  same  with 
reg;u(l  to  the  custom  of  ascribing  glory,  and 
rendering  adoration,  to  the  third  person  of 
the  Trinity?  Justin  Martyr,  the   most  an- 
cient and  authentic  apologist  for  Christian- 
ity, who  is  next  in  succession,  and   next  in 
credit   to   the  jiatrcs  nposlolici ;  he   declares 
expressly,  That  it  was  the  received  custom 
of  the  Christian  (Church,  in  his  days,  to  wor- 
thij)  the  Holy  (ihost.   His  words  are,  Ihi-j- 


fj^'jc  'TtnoP/tTtii"  ori  /itir t  Aaytf  Ti/iceiifnv,  aTooiu'o- 
fj.iv.  You  peiceive,  he  not  only  avows  the 
thing,  but  vindicates  its  jeasonablcness  and 
propriety.  Perhaps  some  ca])ti(jus  critic 
may  insinuate,  that  it  is  matter  of  doubt, 
whether  the  word  n/^M/^iv  imp]  es  divine 
honours.  I  waive  all  attempts  to  jirove  this 
point  from  the  original  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, b(-cause,  to  obviate  such  an  objection, 
we  "ha\  e  another  passage  to  ])roduce  from 
the  same  s:i:iit,  father,  and  martyr,  i;v£t/^a 
■x^o^nno    a-ti/ji^oi  Kui  Vf/ufx.vmfn.lt,    Apol.   1. 

Can  any  ex])ressions  be  imagined  more  for- 
cible in  their  signification,  or  more  apposite 
to  our  pur})ose  ?  They  import  the  highest 
acts  of  adoration,  and  yet  they  describe  the 
regai'ds  wl.ich  were  paid  by  the  purest  an- 
tiquity to  the  Holy  Ghost.  Will  it  still  be 
suggested,  that  Justin  makes  no  mention  of 
offering  up  prayers,  or  addressing  praises? 
I  answer,  1  his  he  must  certainly  mean,  be- 
cause no  one  can  be  said  o  i^ti^ai  x.a.i  pr^oa- 
x,un:t  Tot  (r)iev  n  to  Uviviua,  who  withholds 
praise,  or  restrains  prayer.  These  particu- 
lar instances  are  as  necessarily  implied  in 
those  geneial  terms,  as  the  species  is  includ- 
ed in  the  genus. 

You  will  please  to  observe,  that  this 
amounts  to  a  great  deal  more  than  IMr. 
Tomkins,  (page  17.),  not  very  ingenuously, 
suggests,  v:z.  "  a  few  hints  that  learned 
men  have  found,  in  the  primitive  ages,  of 
the  ascription  of  piaise  to  the  Holy  Ghost-" 
It  seems  also  entirely  to  overthrow  what,  ui 
another  jjlace,  he  advances  (j)age  '2(5.)  not 
veiy  consistently  with  truth,  viz.  "  That 
there  is  so  little  appearance  of  the  observ- 
ance of  such  a  custom,  for  so  many  ages  of 
the  Christian  church."  Few  hints  aiid  lit- 
tle ajjpearance  !  Can  a  clear  and  determinate 
declaration,  made  by  a  writer  of  the  most 
imquestionable  veracity,  concerning  the  inia- 
ninious,  the  universal  practice  of  the  ancient 
church  ;  can  this  evidence,  with  any  faii'ness 
or  cfpiity,  be  rated  at  the  diminutive  degree 
of  hints,  and  little  ajjpeanuice  ? 

As  to  what  is  remarked  relating  to  the 
corruption  of  the  early  writers,  the  interpo- 
lations, or  alterations  made  by  careless  tran- 
scribers, (])age  17-),  this  seems  to  beamost 
empty  and  jejune  insiiuiation.  It  is  what 
will  serve  any  side  of  any  debate.  It  is  op- 
])osing  hypothesis  to  fact,  precarious  and  un- 
supported hyi>othesis  to  clear  and  undeniable 
fiict.  This  siu'e  is  catching,  not  at  a  twig, 
but  at  a  shadow.  I  never  could  like  Dr. 
IJentley's  osci/nniia  et  /wllucitialic  librariorum, 
even  in  his  animadversions  on  heathen  au- 
thors ;  because  it  was  an  outcry  fitted  for 
any  occasion,  a  charge  ever  ready  at  hand, 
and  e(iually  suited  to  discountenance  truth 
or  detect  error;  nuuh  less  can  1  think  it 
suflicient  to  overthrow  the  testimony,  or  in- 
validate the  authenticity  of  our  iuicient 
Christian  writers.     Would  u  bare  iiniuendo, 


778 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


(and  Mr.  Tomkins's  is  no  more),  and  that 
from  an  interested  person,  without  any  the 
least  show  of  proof ;  would  tliis  be  admit- 
ted, in  a  court  of  judicature,  to  supersede  the 
plain,  the  solemn  deposition  of  a  credible 
witness  ?  Supersede  it !  Quite  the  reverse. 
It  would  convince  the  judge,  and  teach  the 
jury,  that  the  cause  must  be  extremely 
wrong,  utterly  insupportable,  since  artifices 
so  weak  and  transparently  fallacious  were 
used  in  its  defence. 

But  it  is  frequently  objected,  that  no 
mention  is  made,  no  warrant  is  to  be  found 
for  distinct  worship.  The  afore-cited  writer, 
and  the  whole  Scripture,  is  silent  upon  the 
ai-ticle  of  distinct  worship.  And  the  reader 
is  led  to  suppose,  that  there  is  some  mighty 
difference  between  distinct  and  I  know  not 
what  other  kind  of  worship.  Why  does 
our  author  harp  so  incessantly  uj)Oii  this 
string  ?  whence  such  irreconcilable  aver- 
sion to  this  quality  of  worship?  One  would 
almost  sus|)ect  he  was  conscious  that  some 
worship  should  be  paid,  but  could  not  digest 
the  doctrine,  nor  submit  to  the  payment  of 
distinct  worship.  I  must  reply,  once  for 
all,  that  if  any  worship  be  due,  distinct  wor- 
ship cannot  be  improper  ;  much  more  if  all 
worship  (which,  I  apprehend,  is  included  in 
Justin's  words,  and  follows  from  the  divini- 
ty of  the  blessed  Spirit)  be  requisite,  dis- 
tinct worship  cannot  be  unwarrantable. 

Another  grand  argument  urged  by  our 
inquirer  is,  "  That  the  apostles,  as  far  as 
appears,  never  practised  this  worship  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  themselves,  nor  recommended 
it  to  others."  (page  2.)  He  should,  by  all 
means,  have  printed  as  fur  as  appears  in 
Italics  or  capitals  ;  because  then  the  reader 
would  have  apprehended  more  easily  the 
uncertain  foundation  on  which  the  reason- 
ing is  built.  But  though  this  particular, 
relating  to  the  practice  of  the  apostles,  does 
not  appear  one  way  or  the  other,  yet  our 
author,  in  his  4th  page,  and  elsewhere,  con- 
cludes from  it  as  assuredly  as  if  it  stood  up- 
on authentic  record.  "  For."  says  he,  "  if 
we  admit  that  the  reason  of  things  is  suffi- 
cient to  establish  this  practice,  it  will  prove 
too  much."  It  will  undoubtedly,  if  it  proves 
any  thing,  prove  it  a  duty  to  pay  such  wor- 
ship to  the  Holy  Spirit ;  and  consequently, 
that  the  apostles  were  defective,  either  in 
not  seeing  this  reason  of  things  as  well  as 
we,  or  not  practising  according  to  it.  Does 
he  not  here  suppose  the  apostolical  omission 
an  acknowledged,  undoubted  point,  which, 
a  few  lines  before,  he  had  confessed  to  be 
dubious  and  unapparent  ? 

However,  not  to  insist  upon  this  little 
self-contradicting  slip,  I  would  ask.  What 
reason  has  Mr.  Tomkins  to  conclude,  that 
the  apostles  omitted  this  usage  which  the 
Christian  churches  have  adopted?  Do 
they  ever  declare,  or  so  much  as  hint,  that 


they  are  determined  to  omit  it?  Do  they 
ever  caution  their  converts  against  it  as  a 
dangerous  error  ?  Is  there  any  such  memo- 
rial preserved,  or  any  such  caveat  lodged  in 
their  secret  writings  ?  Now,  to  argue  in  our 
author's  strain.  If  it  was  so  unjustifiable  a 
thing  to  address  praise,  or  put  up  prayer 
to  the  Holy  Ghost,  there  could  not  be  a 
more  necessary  precaution  than  that  the 
apostles,  those  careful  instructors,  should 
have  warned  their  people  of  the  mistake,  es- 
pecially since  it  was  so  extremely  probable, 
so  almost  unavoidable,  tJiat  they  would  fidl 
into  it.  For  I  appeal  to  the  whole  world, 
whether  a  considerate  person  would  not  na- 
turally judge  it  reasonable,  whether  a  devout 
person  would  not  feel  a  forcible  inclination, 
to  worship  that  venerable  Name  into  which 
he  was  baptized  ;  and  to  praise  that  benefi- 
cent Being,  who  is  the  author  of  so  many 
inestimable  blessings.  Yet  though  this  is 
so  apparently  natural,  such  as  the  apostles 
could  not  but  foresee  was  likely  to  happen, 
they  say  not  a  syllable  by  way  of  preven- 
tion ;  they  take  no  care  to  guard  their  con- 
verts against  such  a  practice.  A  pregnant 
sign,  that  it  is  allowed  by  divine  Wisdom, 
and  chargeable  neither  with  superstition  nor 
idolatry. 

But  our  author,  to  corroborate  his  argu- 
ment, adds,  "  To  suppose  the  apostles  di- 
rected any  explicit  worship  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  though  we  have  no  mention  of  it  in 
Scripture,  where  yet  we  meet  with  frequent 
doxologies  of  theirs,  and  addresses  by  way 
of  prayer  or  petition,"  would  be  an  unrea- 
sonable presumption.  I  cannot  accede  to 
this  assertion.  The  doxologies  and  prayers 
of  the  apostles,  recorded  in  Scripture,  are 
only  occasional  and  incidental ;  inserted, 
as  the  fervour  of  a  devout  spirit  suggested, 
in  the  body  of  their  doctrinal  and  exborta- 
tory  writings.  Now,  the  omission  of  such 
a  practice  in  writings,  which  were  composed 
with  a  view  of  instructing  mankind  in  the 
great  fundamentals  of  Christianity,  which 
were  never  intended  as  a  full  and  complete 
system  of  devotions  ;  the  omission  of  this 
practice  in  such  writings  can  be  no  fair  or 
conclusive  argument  for  its  being  omitted 
in  their  stated  acts  of  public  worship.  If, 
indeed,  the  apostles  had,  in  their  epistolary 
correspondence,  drawn  up  a  form  of  devo- 
tions ;  had  declared,  that  in  them  was  com- 
prised a  perfect  pattern  of  devotional 
addresses,  proper  to  be  oflfered  to  the  Deity  ; 
that  all  acts  of  worship  which  deviated  a  jot 
or  tittle  from  that  prescribed  form,  were 
uinA'arrantable  ;  if  such  a  composition  had 
been  transmitted  from  the  apostles,  and 
we  had  found  no  such  addresses  therein  as 
those  for  which  we  are  pleading,  I  should 
then  allow  a  good  deal  of  force  in  the  argu- 
ment  drawn  from  the  apostolical  omission  ; 
though,  at  the  same  time,  I  could  not  be 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


779 


al  If  to  fcilx'iir  wwuldini;  at  the  iricoiisis- 
tciicy  of  tliL'ir  '.loctriiiL's,  wliicli  tciicb  us  that 
thu  Holy  Ghost  is  God,  and  of  their  wor- 
ship, which  refuses  him  divine  honours. 
l!ut  I  think,  as  the  case  stands,  no  solid 
argument,  nothing  but  a  specious  cavil,  can 
be  formed  from  this  circumstance  of  its 
being  unpractised  in  the  writings  of  the 
apostles. 

"  It  does  not  appear  that  the  apostles 
addressed  distinct  worship  to  the  Blessed 
Spirit ;  therefore  we  conclude,  that  they 
actually  addressed  none  :" — .As  though  fact 
and  appearance  were  convertible  terms.  I 
am  sm-prised  that  an  author  of  Mr.  Tom 
kins's  penetration  can  prevail  ui)on  himself 
to  be  satisfied,  or  should  offer  to  imjjose 
upon  his  readers,  with  a  deduction  so  very 
illogical.  Is  the  not  apjiearing  of  a  thing  a 
certain  argument,  or  indeed  any  argument 
at  all,  for  its  not  existing  ?  It  does  not 
ajjpear  that  there  are  moimtains,  or  groves, 
or  rivers  beneath  our  horizon  :  It  does  not 
apj)ear  that  there  are  any  such  vessels  as 
lymphatics,  any  such  fluid  as  the  chyle,  in 
these  living  bodies  of  ours.  But  by  com- 
paring them  with  others  that  have  been 
dissected,  and  by  reasoning  from  indisputa- 
ble princij)les  relating  to  the  animal  econo- 
my, we  assure  ourselves  of  the  reality  of 
both  these  particulars.  Consider,  sir,  into 
what  umiumbered  absurdities,  and  evident 
falsehoods,  this  way  of  arguing  wwuld  betray 
us,  if  pursued  in  all  its  consequences.  It 
will  prove,  if  we  once  admit  it  as  a  test  of 
truth,  that  nothing  was  transacted  by  scri])- 
tural  men,  but  what  is  particularly  recorded 
in  scriptiu'e  history.  I  nowhi  re  read  Isaac 
circumcised  his  son  Jacob,  or  instructed  iiis 
household  after  the  example  of  his  father 
Abraham.  But  shall  we  infer,  from  the 
silence  of  Scriptme  with  regard  to  these 
matters,  tiiat  he  never  conformed  to  the 
former  institution,  nor  performed  the  latter 
service  ?  I  should  much  rather  believe  that, 
as  he  bears  the  character  of  a  godly  man,  he 
walked  in  both  these  statutes  and  ordinances 
of  the  Lord  blameless.  And  since  the 
apostles  uniformly  agree  in  this  grand  pre- 
mise. That  the  Holy  Ghost  is  God,  it  seems 
nntch  more  reasonable  to  conclude;  from 
hence,  that  they  paid  him  direct  worship, 
than  from  their  bare  silence  to  infer,  that 
they  neglected  this  jjractice.  I  nowhere 
read  in  the  sacred  writings,  that  St.  I'eter 
suflcred  martyrdom,  or  sealed  the  testiitujiiy 
of  Christ  with  his  blood.  But  must  we, 
on  this  account,  persuade  ourselves  that  he 
was  not  one  of  the  noble  army  of  martyrs  ? 
I\o,  you  will  say,  it  is  very  sujjposable  that 
he  laid  down  his  life  for  his  Saviour,  even 
though  this  event  is  not  expressly  recorded, 
because  our  Lord  clearly  i)redi<;ts  it,  when 
he  informs  him  by  what  death  he  should 
glorify  God.     And  may  not  I   reply,  with 


parity  of  reason,  it  is  very  supjjosable  that 
the  apostles,  in  their  solemn  devotions,  ad- 
dressed direct  and  distinct  worship  to  the 
Holy  Ghost,  because  their  declaring  their 
belief  in  his  personality  and  divinity  was  a 
strong  intimation  that  they  should,  was  a 
sort  of  prediction  that  they  would,  render 
all  kind  of  homage  and  adoration  to  him. 
I'pon  the  whole,  if  this  be  a  mere  pre- 
sumption, no  better  than  -Aijratis  dictum,  that 
the  a])ostles  did  not  worship  the  Holy  Ghost, 
then  all  the  sj)ecious  arguments  derived  from 
hence  drop  of  course. 

Our  objector  still  insists,  "  That  this  is 
not  a  necessary  part  of  Christian  worship," 
(page  2.)  Be  pleased  to  observe  how  he 
dejMirts  fi'om  his  first  proposal.  His  first 
inquiry,  that  which  the  title  page  exhibits, 
was.  Whether  this  be  warrantable  ?  then, 
with  an  evasive  dexterity,  he  slips  into 
another  toj)ic,  and  maintains  that  it  cannot 
be  necessary.  Whether  this  be  tergiversation 
or  inaccuracy,  I  shall  not  stay  to  examine  ; 
but  nuist  ask  Mr.  Tomkiiis,  What  reason 
he  has  for  this  positive  determination,  that 
it  cannot  be  necessary  ?  Because,  on  the 
contrary  supposition,  "  we  shall  condemn 
the  ajtostles  as  guily  of  a  great  omission," 
(page  •!.)  This  argument  the  author  uses 
more  than  once,  therefore  I  may  be  excused 
in  replying  to  it  once  again.  We  can  have 
no  pretence  to  condemn  the  apostles  till  we 
have  undeniable  proof  that  there  was  such 
an  omission  in  their  conduct.  Who  can 
assert,  who  dares  maintain,  that,  when  the 
apostles  were  met  together  in  the  holy  con- 
gregation, for  large,  solenm,  copious  devo- 
tion, they  uevtT  recognised  the  divinity  of 
the  three  sacied  Persons,  never  addressed 
distinct  acts  of  praise  or  invocation  to  each 
resj)ectively  ?  I'his  Mr.  Tomkins  may 
persist  in  bup])osing  ;  but,  after  all  he  can 
suggest  in  vindication  of  this  princi|)le.  it 
will  amoimt  to  no  more  than  a  bare  supposal. 
I  may  at  least  as  fairly  sujipose  the  very 
reveisc ;  and,  I  think,  have  the  suffrage  of 
reason,  the  analogy  of  Scripture,  the  consent 
of  the  purest  antiquity,  on  my  side.  How- 
ever, in  case  Mr.  Tomknis  had  demonstrat- 
ed, by  incontestable  evidence,  that  the  prac- 
tice under  consideration  cannot  be  necessary, 
does  he  confine  himself,  in  every  instance, 
to  what  is  strictly  necessary  ?  Does  he  not 
allow  himself  in  what  is  expedient':'  Could 
1  not  mention  various  i)articulars  which  are 
not  absolutely  necesssary,  but  yet  they  are 
decent  and  usefid  ;  they  contribute  to  the 
l)eauty  and  harmony  of  worship,  to  the  com- 
fort and  edilication  of  the  worshippers? 
Perhaps  it  may  not  be  necessary  to  parti- 
cularize in  our  devoiions  the  i)reseiit  distress 
of  our  nation,  and  to  form  particular  peti- 
tions suitable  to  our  national  ex  gencies,  or 
particular  thanksgivings  accommodated  to 
0111  n.aloiial  deliverances.     But  since  this  is 


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A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


very  expedient ;  since  it  tends  to  beget  in  sill 
a  more  lively  sense  of  our  dependence  on  di- 
vine providence ;  since  it  is  a  most  empha- 
tical  method  of  ascribing  to  the  supreme 
Disposer  the  glory  of  all  our  public  mercies, 
this  practice  is  very  becoming,  very  proper, 
very  useful.  Should  1  plead,  in  opposition 
to  this  custom,  that  it  is  not  absolutely  ne- 
cessary :  Your  prayers  may  be  acceptable 
to  God,  and  beneficial  to  your  country,  with- 
out such  particularizing.  St.  Paul  gives  no 
express  command,  sets  no  explicit  example 
of  any  such  usage  ,  there  is  no  precedent 
from  any  of  the  apostles,  where  the  affairs 
t)f  the  state  under  which  they  lived  are 
particularly  displayed  before  God  in  humble 
supplication. — Would  Mr.  Tomkins  think 
this  a  sufficient  reason  for  him  in  his  private, 
or  for  ministers  in  their  public  devotions, 
to  discontinue  the  practice  ?  No,  verily  ; 
the  propriety,  the  expediency  of  the  thing 
would  justify  and  ascertain  its  use,  even 
though  no  scriptural  pattern  had  recom- 
mended, no  scriptural  precept  enjoined  it. 

It  is  affirmed,  (page  5,)  That  "  tlie  ad- 
dresses of  the  New  Testament  are  always 
made  to  the  Father,  or  to  the  Son  ;"  and  it 
is  added,  (i)age  10,)  "  that  there  is  neither 
rule  nor  example  in  it  for  worsliipijing  any 
other  person  Avhatever."  This  point  our 
author  affirms  with  a  very  positive  air,  as 
though  it  v\ere  incapable  of  being  contro- 
verted ;  and  therefore  often  builds  assertions 
on  it,  often  makes  deductions  from  it.  Sup- 
pose it  was  an  undejiiable  truth,  I  think  we 
have  shown  that  it  can  be  no  satisfactory 
proof,  that  in  all  the  enlarged  devotions  of 
the  apostles,  no  addresses  were  oflered  to 
the  Blessed  Spirit,  because  a  few  short  eja- 
culations made  no  explicit  mention  of  him. 
But  this  assertion,  perhaps,  upon  a  closer 
examination,  may  appear  too  bold  and  un- 
justifiable ;  somewhat  like  the  position  which 
has  been  advanced  with  regard  to  the  senti- 
ments of  the  primitive  writers,  and  practice 
of  the  primitive  church.  It  might  be  pro- 
per to  consider,  on  this  occasion,  2  Thess. 
jii.  5,  The  Lord  direct  your  hearts  into  the 
love  of  God,  and  patience  of  Christ.  This 
you  will  allow  to  be  a  prayer  of  benediction. 
You  will  also  observe,  that  here  is  particu- 
lar mention  of  three  persons.  The  Lord, 
who  is  the  object  of  the  invocation,  and  be- 
stower  of  the  blessing,  is  neither  the  Father 
nor  the  Son.  And  who  then  can  it  be  but 
the  Holy  Ghost?  whose  amiable  office  it  is 
to  shed  abroad  the  love  of  God  in  our  hearts, 
Rom.  v.  3.  It  will  nut,  I  presume,  be  in- 
timated, that  this  is  the  oidy  passage  of  the 
kind  ;  for  were  it  the  only  one,  yet,  where 
the  evidence  is  infallible,  we  need  not  the 
mouth  of  two  or  three  witnesses  to  establish 
the  matter  in  dibate.  However,  for  further 
satisfaction,  we  niiiy  consult  1  Thess,  iii.  1 1 
—13  ;  2  Thess.  ii.  16.    If  we  consider  these 


texts  in  conjunction  with  those  Scriptures 
which  speak  of  the  Holy  Ghost  as  a  distinct 
person,  we  shall  perceive  a  beautiful  pro- 
priety, and  a  particular  emphasis,  in  imder- 
standing  the  verses  as  mentioning  the  sacred 
persons  severally.  The  latter  text  espe- 
cially, considered  in  this  view,  is  extremely 
pertinent,  has  a  very  admirable  prcpriety, 
and  agreeably  to  a  maxim  laid  down  by  a 
great  master  of  correct  writing — 

Reddere persona;  srit  coinenientia  cuique. 

Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  himself,  and  God 
and  our  Father,  who  hath  loved  us,  and 
given  us  everlasting  consolation,  and  good 
hope  through  grace,  comfort  your  hearts,  and 
establish  you  in  every  good  word  and  work. 
Supposing  the  three  persons  implored  in 
this  supplication,  every  thiiig  that  is  attri- 
buted to  each  has  a  perfect  conformity  with 
that  part  which  each  is  represented  as  acting 
in  the  blessed  work  of  redemption  :  e.  <j. 
Our  Father,  who  hath  loved  us  ;  for  God 
so  loved  the  world,  saith  St.  John,  that  he 
gave  his  only  begotten  Son.  God,  the  Holy 
Ghost,  who  hath  given  us  everlasting  con- 
solation ;  for  it  is  the  peculiar  office  of  the 
blessed  Spirit  to  administer  comfort,  called 
therefore  the  Paraclete.  Jesus  Christ,  who 
hath  given  us  good  hope  through  grace : 
We  have  hope  in  Christ,  saith  the  apostle 
to  the  Corinthians  ;  and  nothing  is  more 
frequently  celebrated,  by  the  apostolical 
writers,  than  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  Behold  then  a  pertinency,  a  beau- 
ty, a  significant  distinction,  and  an  exact 
harmony  between  ail  the  parts  of  this  verse, 
if  tJiken  in  our  sense  ;  but  a  strange,  con- 
fused, tautological  kind  of  diction,  if  you 
disallow  that  the  three  divine  persons  are 
distinctly  applied  to. 

Page  6.  it  is  suggested,  "  That  we  may 
incur  the  resentment  of  the  other  two  per- 
sons, as  showing  a  neglect  or  disrespect  to 
them,  if,  of  our  own  heads,  we  should  in  any 
pecidiar  and  distinguishing  form  worship  the 
Father."  This,  sure,  is  a  most  unworthy 
insinuation,  as  though  the  infinitely  sublime 
and  glorious  persons  of  the  Godhead  were 
meanly  ambitious  or  weakly  jealous.  This 
is  measuring  the  Deity,  not  by  our  reason, 
which  is  a  very  incompetent  standard;  not 
by  our  senses,  which  are  still  more  inade- 
quate judges  ;  but  even  by  our  sordid  and 
vile  affections.  But  not  to  insist  upon  this 
gross  error ;  not  to  aggravate  this  affi'ont 
offered  to  the  adorable  Trinity ;  this  inti- 
mation, and  others  of  the  like  strain,  seem 
to  be  founded  on  a  great  mistake  with  rela- 
tion to  the  natme  of  the  Godhead.  The 
essence  is  one,  though  the  persons  are  dis- 
tinct. So  that  whatever  honour  is  paid  to 
any  person,  is  paid  to  the  one  undivided 
essence.  If  we  call  Jesus  the  Lord,  St. 
Paul  assures  us,  it  is  to  the  glory  of  God 
the  Father,     ^^■hoever  sees  the   Son,  our 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


7a  1 


Saviour  himself  (ieclares,  sees  the  Father 
fiUo ;  i.  c.  Whoever  has  a  right  iin(ierstarid- 
hi^  of  the  Son,  and  sees  liy  faith  his  divine 
excellencies  ;  that  man  sees,  is  arqimiiited 
with,  the  peifections  of  the  Father  also  ; 
and  for  this  obvious  reason,  because  the 
Father  and  Son  aie  one.  And  will  not  this 
hold  pood  with  retrard  to  the  Holy  Spirit  ? 
If  so,  whatever  honoiu*  is  paid  to  one,  is 
paid  to  nil  the  three  sacred  persons;  or  nt- 
ther,  whatever  devout  ascriptions  of  praise 
are  addressed  to  either  of  the  divine  per- 
sons, they  are  addressed  to  the  one  living 
ineotnprehensible  God.  I  wish  Mr.  Tom- 
kins  had  attended  to  this  consideration.  It 
might  have  guarded  him  atrainst  some  other 
luiwary  expressions,  which  imply  the  notion 
of  Polytheism  ;  particularly  that  in  page  10, 
where  he  tells  us,  "  that  the  Scripture  sets 
forth  the  Father  and  the  Son  as  the  objects 
of  worship."  I  cannot  find  any  such  repre- 
sentation in  Scripture.  The  Scripture  is 
uniform  and  consistent,  and  speaking  of  but 
one  God,  speaks  of  but  one  object  of  divine 
worship,  viz.  the  infinite  Deity,  distinguished 
by  a  threefold  personality.  This  may  seem 
strange  ;  but  since  we  have  the  Saviour's 
word,  and  the  apostle's  evidence,  to  sup- 
))ort  the  tenet,  it  should,  niethinks,  l>e  ad- 
mitted as  true.  This  may  seem  straiifre, 
but  is  it  therefore  to  be  rejected  a.s  false  ? 
At  this  rate,  we  must  deny  the  existence  of 
a  tliousand  phenomena  in  nature  ;  we  must 
explode  as  impossibilities  numberless  appa- 
rent facts. 

P;i(;re  7.  the  inquirer  advances  a  veiy  un- 
accountable proposition.  "  It  should  seem," 
says  he,  "  that  the  Son  of  God  had  quitted 
for  that  time  (during  his  humiliation)  his 
claim  to  divine  worship ;  though  it  should 
be  granted  that  he  did  receive  divine  worship 
before."  I  must  ask  with  the  Jewish  ruler. 
How  can  these  things  be  ?  Can  God  aban- 
don his  divinity?  Can  he  cease  to  be  su- 
premely great  and  good  ?  Is  he  not  ( I 
would  not  say  by  the  necessity,  but  by  the 
absolute  perfection  of  his  nature,)  to-day 
and  yesterday,  and  for  ever  the  same  ?  If 
so,  it  seems  impossible  that  creatures  should, 
for  so  much  as  a  single  instant,  be  released 
from  the  duty  of  adoration  ;  it  se(;ms  impos- 
sible (with  reverence  be  it  spoken)  that  God 
should  relin<juish  his  claim  to  their  pro- 
foundest  homage.  This  would  be  to  deny 
himself;  which  the  apostle  reckons  among 

the  AcvvxTo.,  2  Tim.  ii.  1:3,  A^v»j«ra»^«/  izwrev 

»  iuvarai.  This  tenet,  I  imagine,  is  con- 
trary, not  only  to  reason,  but  to  Scripture. 
I  should  be  i)leased  to  know,  whether  Mr. 
Tomkins,  when  he  was  com])osiiig  this  pa- 
ragi'aj)h,  recollected  that  memorable  saying 
of  our  Lord,  John  iii.  1;),  No  man  hath  as- 
cended into  heaven,  but  he  who  came  down 
from  heaven,  even  the  Son  of  I\[an  who  is 
in  heaven.      Is  not  this  a  manifest  i)ruof, 


that  our  Saviour  was  in  heaven  by  his  divine 
nature,  even  while  his  human  natiu'e  was 
sojourning  on  earth,  or  conlined  within  the 
limits  of  a  scanty  ap.n'tment  ?  And  if  the 
divine  Son,  while  holding  in  his  humanity 
a  conference  with  Nicodemus,  was  present 
by  his  Godhead  in  the  heavenly  regions, 
could  angels  be  insensible  of  his  presence  ? 
and,  if  sensible  of  his  jiresence,  could  they 
withhold  their  adoration  ?  Credat  JiulaiLs 
ApeUa,  non  ft/n.  Let  Socinians,  and  men 
that  are  called  infidels,  believe  such  aii  ab- 
surdity. I  cannot  reconcile  it  to  my  appre- 
hensions. Our  Lord  emptied  himself,  it  is 
true ;  because  when  he  a})])eared  among 
mortals,  he  appeai-ed  without  the  pomp  and 
splendour  of  his  celestial  majesty.  He 
suffered  no  such  glory  to  irradiate  and  adom 
his  person  as  surrounded  him  on  the  mount 
of  transfigm'ation,  and  will  invest  him  when 
he  comes  to  judge  the  world  ;  but  was  in 
all  things  such  as  we  are,  sin  only  excepted- 
Thus  he  humbled  himself,  not  by  disrobing 
his  eternal  (iodhead  of  its  essenti.'d  dignity, 
but  by  withholding  the  manifestations  of  it, 
in  that  inferior  natiu-e  which  he  was  pleased 
to  assume. 

Page  8.  Our  author  seems  to  mistake 
the  meaning  of  that  royal  edict  issued  out  in 
the  heaveidy  world  :  Let  all  the  angels  of 
God  worship  him,  Heb.  i.  6.  He  supposes 
this  was  a  command  to  worship  the  Son  in 
the  sublime  capa(;ity  of  God  overall.  This, 
surely,  could  not  be  the  sense  of  the  words  ; 
because  a  command  of  such  an  import  must 
be  needless.  This  was  the  natural,  the 
unchangeable,  the  indisiw'tisable  duty  of  all 
creatures  ;  and  such  as  those  superior  in- 
telligences could  not  but  easily  discern,  such 
as  those  upright  sj)irits  could  not  but  readily 
obey,  without  iiny  particular  injunction. 
The  command,  therefore,  I  apprehend,  is 
rather  referable  to  the  humanity  of  our 
blessed  Redeemer;  to  that  nature  in  Im- 
mainiel  which  purged  away  our  sins,  by  be- 
coming a  propitiatory  sacrifice.  This  was 
made  higher  than  the  angels.  This  had  an 
illustrious  name  given  it,  to  which  every 
knee  should  bow.  This  was  e.xalted  iiito 
heaven  ;  angels,  and  authorities,  and  powers, 
being  made  subject  unto  the  man  Christ 
Jesus.  If  this  remark  be  true,  then  our 
author's  interpretation  is  erroneous ;  con- 
sequently his  round-about  argument,  de- 
rived from  a  mistaken  principle,  must  liJI 
to  nothing. 

Page  1'2.  In  the  note,  our  objector  asks, 
"Did  the  people  of  Israel,  upon  hearing  these 
words,  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God,  who  brought 
thee  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  ever  imagine 
that  there  were  three  persons  then  speak- 
ing?' This  question,  I  su])i)ose,  is  intend- 
ed to  invalidate  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity. 
15ut  the  great  article  stands  ujion  a  rock, 
too  iaii)enetrable  to  be  undermined  by  such 


782 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


ail  interrogatory ;    too  imnioveahle   to    be 
shaken  by  such  a  suggestion.      I  pretend 
not  to  give    a    categorical   answer   to  the 
query,  but  only  desire  to  observe,  that  the 
people  of  Israel  have  several  intimations  in 
their  sacred  books,  of  a  ])lurality  of  persons 
in  the  unity  of  the  divine  essence.      They 
were  accustomed  to  hear  Moses  speak  in 
the   plural   number,   when    he   relates   the 
wonderful  work  of  creation,  Let  us  make 
man.       Their  inspired  and  royal  preacher 
spoke  of  the  almighty  JMaker  of  them,  and 
of  all  things,   in  plural  terms,  Hemember 
now  thy  Creator,  Eccl.  xii.  L  in  the  origi- 
nal, Creators.     The  prophets  acknowledged 
and  teach  this  grand  mystery,  particularly 
the  evangelical  prophet  Isaiah,  chap.  Ixiii. 
9,  10.      So  that,  if  the  children  of  Jacob 
and  Joseph   were  ignorant   of  this   awful 
ti  uth,  it  seems  owing  rather  to  the  blindness 
of  their  understandings  than  to  the  want  of 
proper  discoveries  from  above.     But  be  the 
rase  as  it  is  supposed  with  regard  to  the 
Jews,  are  we  obliged  to  copy  their  ignor- 
ance ?  Must  their  sentiments  be  our  guide  ? 
their  imaginations  the  model  of  our  creed  ? 
Surely  for  a  Christian  to  argue,  or  even  to 
surmise,  that  there  is  no  such  thing,  because 
the  ancient  Jews  were  not  acquainted  with 
it,  is  altogether  as  unreasonable  as  it  would 
be  unphilosophical  to  maintain,  that  there 
are  no  such  places  as  America  or   Green- 
land, because  they  were  both  unknown  to 
the  ancient  inhabitants  of   Canaan.     Mr. 
Tomkins   cannot  but  know,  that  it  is  the 
excellency  of  the  evangelical  dispensation 
to  take  off  the  veil  from  the  Mosaical ;  that 
we,  by  comparing  their  law  with  our  gospel, 
by  applying  the  interpretation  of  our  apos- 
tles to  the  doctrines  of  their  prophets,  are 
able  to  see  clearly  what  they  perceived  but 
dimly.       Ye   do   always   resist  the    Holy 
Ghost,  says   St.  Stephen  ;  as  your  fathers 
did,  so  do  ye,  Actsvii.  51.     If  this  reproof 
be  compared  with  the  several  narratives  re- 
corded in  the  Old  Testament,  concerning  I 
the  stiff  necked  and  refractory  behaviour  of 
the  Jews,  we  shall  gather,  by  the  clearest 
deduction,  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  Jehovah. 
Perhaps   the    Israelites,  when    they  heard 
the  psalmist  playing  upon   his   harp,  and 
singing  his  congratulatory   hymn  of  praise. 
Thou  art  ascended  up  on  high,   thou  hast 
led  captivity  captive,   and    received   gifts 
for  men ;  yea,  even  for  thy  enemies,  that 
the    Lord   God  might  dwell  among  them. 
Psalm    Ixviii.    18 ;    the   Israelites,  I   say, 
upon  hearing  these  words,  might  not  be 
aware,  that  the  person  who  ascended  up  on 
high  was  the  blessed  Jesus  ;  and  that   the 
Lord  God  dwelling  among,  dwelling  in,  de- 
praved disobedient  mortals,  to  renew  and 
reclaim  them,  was  the  Holy  Ghost.     But 
we,  by  collat'ng  Eph.  iv.  8.  with  the  former 
part  of  the  verse,  and  John  xiv.  17.  Rom. 


viii.  11.  with  the  latter,  are,  to  our  exceed- 
ing great  consolation,  brought  to  the  know- 
ledge of  these  glorious  doctrines. 

Page  14.  our  author  observes,  "That 
Dr.  Watts  would  prove  the  propriety  of 
paying  divine  worship  to  the  Holy  Ghost, 
from  the  form  of  administering  baptism." 
This  argument  he  undertakes  to  invalidate. 
He  proceeds  in  a  very  unexpected  manner; 
springs  a  mine,  of  which  we  were  not  at  all 
apprehensive.  What  if  it  should  turn  to 
the  overthrow  of  his  own  tenet  ?  The  Doc- 
tor maintains,  "  That  baptism  is  a  piece  of 
worship."  Our  author  replies, "  That  hearing 
the  word  in  the  public  assemblies,  may  also 
be  reputed  a  piece  of  worship."  May  it  so? 
Then,  ex  ore  tuo ;  your  own  concession  con- 
futes your  opinion.  For,  if  to  hear  the 
word  with  assiduity,  with  reverence,  with 
an  humble  expectation  of  its  becoming 
the  instalment  of  our  salvation  ;  if  this  be 
a  species  of  worship,  it  is  doubtless  a  wor- 
ship paid  to  him  who  is  the  author  and 
giver  of  the  word.  Now,  we  are  sure  that 
it  was  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  spake  by  the 
prophets,  who  spake  by  the  apostles,  who 
spake  all  the  words  of  that  life,  which  in 
our  religious  congregations  are  explained 
and  enforced. 

Page  15.  Mr.  Tomkins  urges  the  ex- 
pression of  St.  Paul,  1  Cor.  x.  2,  which  I 
cannot  forbear  suspecting,  notwithstanding 
all  the  remonstrances  of  charity,  which 
thinketh  no  e\al,  he  wilfully  misunder- 
stands. It  is  evident,  on  the  very  first 
glance,  that  Moses  in  that  place  cannot 
mean  the  man  IMoses  ;  but  the  system  of 
religion,  the  body  of  laws,  moraJ,  judicial, 
and  ceremonial,  which  were  by  him  deliver- 
ed to  the  Jews.  Is  it  therefore,  a  proof, 
that  to  be  baptized  into  the  name  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  is  no  act  of  worship  to  that  divine 
person,  because  it  was  no  act  of  worship 
to  Moses  to  have  been  baptized  into  an 
economy  instituted  by  God,  and  only  pro- 
mulgated by  Moses  ? 

For  my  part,  I  am  steadfastly  persuaded, 
that  to  be  baptized  into  the  name  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  is  a  very  noble  and  sublime 
kind  of  worship;  not  to  say,  an  indispens- 
able obligation  to  all  other  instances  and 
degrees  of  worship.  It  is  coupled  with 
that  greatest  of  Christian  duties,  belie\nng  ; 
which  I  take  to  be  a  worship  of  the  mind, 
far  more  important  than  any  bodily  homage, 
without  which  all  external  expressions  of 
adoration  are  mere  formality.  He  that 
believeth,  and  is  baptized,  shall  be  saved. 
I  verily  think  no  one  will  deny,  that  bap- 
tism is,  at  least,  equal  in  its  import  to  cir- 
cumcision ;  instead  of  which  it  seems  to  be 
substituted.  Kow,  circumcision  was  e\i- 
dently  a  token  and  ratification  of  the  cov- 
enant of  Jehovah.  It  was  a  visible  attes- 
tation to  the  person  circumcised,  that  the 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


783 


Lord  was  his  God,  engaged  by  covenant  to 
protect,  bless,  and  make  him  finally  happy. 
It  was  a  solemn  declaration  of  an  absolute 
self-surrender  to  the  blessed  God,  to  ac- 
knowledge him  for  the  only  Lord,  to  serve 
him  in  all  dutiful  obedience,  to  seek  his 
glory,  and  to  be  resigned  to  his  will.  This 
seems  to  have  been  the  meaning  of  that 
divinely  appointed  rite,  enii)hatically  ex- 
pressed in  thewordsof  the  Jewish  legislator, 
"  Thou  hast  this  day  avouched  the  Lord  to 
be  thy  God,  to  walk  in  his  ways,  and  to 
keep  his  statutes,  and  to  hearken  unto  his 
voice-  And  the  Lord  hath  avouched  thee 
this  day  to  be  his  peculiar  people,"  Deut- 
xxvi.  17,  18.  And  can  we  imagine  that 
baj)tism,  which  has  superseded  circumcision, 
is  inferior  to  it  in  significancy  ?  Or  can  we 
imagine  that  these  solemn  acts  of  recog- 
nising the  Lord  for  our  only  God,  and 
consecrating  ourselves  to  his  honour,  are  no 
expressions  of  worship  ? 

Though  this  dedication  of  ourselves  to 
the  service  of  the  Holy  Ghost  should  be  im- 
plied in  th-e  ordinance  of  baptism,  "  still  it 
must  be  granted,"  replies  our  author,  "  that 
this  can  be  no  other  service  of  the  Spirit 
tlian  wha^  is  enjoined  in  the  Nevy  Testii- 
nient,"  (page  1.5.)  Then-by  insinuating, 
that  it  is  somewhat  different  from  the  ser- 
vice w<;  stand  engaged  to  yield  both  to  the 
Father  and  to  the  Son.  But,  according  to 
all  the  allowed  methcKls  of  speech,  the  bap- 
tized person  is  dedicated  alike  to  each  of  the 
three  sacred  persons  ;  he  avows  them  all  to 
be  the  object  of  his  worship,  and  the  author 
of  his  salvation.  There  is  no  manner  of 
difference  in  the  terms  which  specify  the 
obligations  ;  and  since  divine  wisdom  has 
made  them  the  same,  why  should  we  presume 
to  pronounce  them  diverse  ?  How  unac- 
countably strange  would  the  baptisnjal 
form  be  on  our  objector's  interpretation  :  I 
baptize  thee  into  an  obligation  to  adore,  to 
obey,  to  worship  the  Father  and  the  Son ; 
but  not  to  pay  the  same  reverential  and  de- 
vout regards  to  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  What 
writer  of  ingenuity,  in  order  to  support  a 
singular  hypothesis,  would  do  su<-h  ajjparcnt 
violence  to  the  meaning  of  the  sacred  text? 
M  hat  reader  of  discenmient  would  become 
a  convert  to  an  opinion,  which  must  darken 
and  pervert  the  most  evident  sense  of  Scrip- 
ture, in  order  to  acquire  an  air  of  j)lausibili- 
ty?  Su])pose  a  person  should,  in  making  his 
last  will,  express  himself  in  the  following 
style  :  I  constitute  A,  I?,  and  C,  my  joint 
executors ;  I  give  and  bequeath  to  them 
whatever  remains  of  my  estate  and  goods, 
when  my  legacies  are  paid  and  my  debts 
cleared.  Would  it  not  be  a  most  extrava- 
gant and  unreasonable  pretence  if  a  captious 
neighbour  should  maintiiin,  that  C  is  not 
vested  with  an  equal  po\\er,  has  not  a  right 
to  an  equal  dividend  with  A  and  B  ?     If  a 


gentleman  of  the  long  rob  shoiJd  offer  to 
give  this  for  law,  would  he  not  forfeit  his 
character  either  of  sagacity  or  integrity?  If 
none  of  these  observations  will  convince 
Mr.  Tomkins  that  he  has  misrepresented 
the  tenor  and  extent  of  the  baptismal  en- 
gagement, we  will,  in  order  to  bring  the 
matter,  if  possible,  to  an  amicable  accommo- 
dation, accede  even  to  his  own  assertion. 
He  argues,  "  That  no  other  service  of  the 
Spirit  can  be  meant,  but  such  as  is  enjoined 
in  the  New  Testament."  Agreed  :  let  us 
join  issue  on  this  footing :  let  us  rest  the 
cause  on  this  bottom.  As  it  is  Mr.  Tom- 
kins's  own  motion,  I  hope  he  will  acquiesce 
in  the  result  of  such  a  trial.  Now  the  New 
Testament,  both  virtually  and  explicitly,  re- 
quires us  to  acknowledge  the  Holy  Ghost 
to  be  God  and  Lord ;  and  what  service  is 
jiayahle,  according  to  the  prescriptions  of 
the  New  Testament,  to  such  a  Being? 
This,  and  no  other,  I  wotdd  render  myself ; 
this,  and  no  other,  is  rendered  by  all  the 
churches.  I  do  not  so  much  as  attempt  to 
be  an  advocate  for  any  other  worship  to  be 
addressed  to  the  divine  Spirit,  than  what  the 
evangelical  Scriptures  direct  us  to  offer  un- 
to that  maje.itic  and  venerable,  that  tremen- 
dous and  amiable  name,  the  Lord  our  God. 
If  therefore  the  New  Testamerit  demands 
all  honour  and  adoration,  as  the  inviolable 
due  of  this  most  exalted  Being,  then  Mr. 
Tomkins  must  either  flatly  deny  the  divi- 
nity of  the  Holy  Ghost,  must  contradict  the 
express  declaration  of  the  inspired  writers 
on  this  head,  or  else  confess  that  his  notion 
stands  condemned  even  on  his  own  princi- 
ples. 

What  is  alleged  from  1  Cor.  i.  1-3,  seems 
to  corroborate  our  sentiments,  rather  than  to 
su])poit  his.  St.  Paul  asks,  with  warmth, 
and  a  sort  of  holy  indignation,  n;  to  oioy.a. 
'U.aiiXa  .'/3'.  cTj-iti^JiTi  ?  he  speaks  of  it  as  an 
absurd  and  shocking  thing.  Now,  what 
could  render  this  so  odious  and  monstrous  a 
practice,  such  as  the  apostle  disclaims  and 
rejects  with  abhorrence?  Nothing,  that  I 
can  apprehend,  but  the  horrid  evil  it  Mould 
imply — the  evil  of  ascribing  divine  honours 
to  Paul,  making  Paul  an  object  of  worship, 
and  consecrating  persons  to  a  creature,  who 
ought  to  be  consecrated  oidy  to  the  Creator, 
God  blessed  for  ever.  So  that  I  must  de- 
clare, I  think  this  text  a  strong  intimation 
that  baittism  is  really  a  sacred  service  or  di- 
vine woishi]),  which  it  is  utteily  unallowable 
for  any  creature  to  assume  or  admit. 
Therefore  the  good  ajjostle  renounces  it, 
\\ith  a  noble  kind  of  detestation  ;  much  like 
the  angel,  v  ho,  when  John  offered  to  fall  at 
his  feet,  and  do  him  homage,  cries,  Oja  ftn 

ru  (d'yi  r^erKvtr.irov,   Rcv.  xxii.  9. 

The  apostolical  benediction  is  another 
passage  usually,  and  deservedly,  produced  in 
justification  of  our  practice.     Mr.  Tomkins 


7B4 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


alk'|]^es,  "  That  this  is  very  different  from  a 
direct  address  by  way  of  prayer  to  the  Spi- 
rit." (pa,c;e  17.)  It  seems  to  me  to  be  an 
undoubted  prayer,  and  to  have  the  very  same 
force  as  if  it  had  been  expressed  in  the  more 
common  precatory  form.  O  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  vouchsafe  them  thy  grace  ;  O  God 
of  goodness,  grant  them  thy  love  ;  O  eternal 
Spirit,  accompany  them  with  thy  comforta- 
ble presence.  That  this  is  the  purport  of 
the  words,  is  undeniable  :  and  where  is  the 
extraordinary  difference,  wliether  they  be  in- 
troduced by  an  eato  or  'Afac  ?  I  believe  all 
will  allow  the  form  ordained  by  God  (  Num. 
vi.  24 — "26.)  for  the  use  of  the  Jewish 
priests,  was  a  real  prayer  :  The  Lord  bless 
thee,  and  keep  thee ;  the  Lord  make  his 
face  to  shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  un- 
to thee  ;  the  Lord  lift  up  the  light  of  his 
countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace  ! 
If  this  was  an  address  to  the  Almighty,  the 
a})Ostolical  benediction  is  exactly  of  the  same 
nature.  To  say,  that  it  was  only  a  kind  of 
wish,  and  not  designed  for  a  devout  aspira- 
tion to  Jehovah,  must  greatly  debase  and 
enervate  it ;  not  to  hint,  that  this  sacerdotal 
blessing  contained  a  recognition  of  three  di- 
vine persons,  which  might  be  obscure  in 
that  age,  but  has  been  fully  illustrated  by 
the  apostles  ;  not  to  hint  the  probability, 
that  St.  Paul  had  this  very  passage  in  his 
eye,  when  he  breathed  out  his  benedictive 
prayer,  and  purposely  intended  to  ex})Iain  it 
ill  the  evangelical  sense.  Besides,  I  would 
desire  to  know,  whether  any  minister  could, 
with  a  safe  conscience,  use  the  fallowing 
benediction  ?  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  the  love  of  God,  and  the  fel- 
lowship of  the  Virgin  Mary,  be  with  you 
all,  amen  !  Why  should  a  conscientious 
minister  be  afraid  of  using  sucli  a  form,  if  it 
lie  no  prayer?  if  it  be  not  a  virtual  ascrip- 
tion of  omniscience,  omnii)resence,  and  om- 
nipotence to  the  Virgin,  and,  in  consequence 
of  those  attiibutes,  a  supplicatory  address  to 
her?  Still  we  are  encountered  with  another 
objection,  "  If  I  should  say  to  a  friend, 
May  the  good  angels  attend  you ;  shall  this 
be  called  a  praying  to  the  angels?"  Mr. 
Tomkins  himself  must  own,  if  he  will  deal 
fairly,  that  the  case  is  by  no  means  parallel- 
The  elect  angels  disavow  ;il!  didne  worship; 
but  does  the  Holy  Ghost  do  this  ?  The 
elect  angels  are  ministering  spirits  ;  but  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  it  is  said,  i'he  Lord  is  that 
Spirit.  The  angels  are  confessedly  created 
and  finite  beings,  so  that  it  would  be  absur- 
dity and  blasphemy  to  invoeate  them  ;  but 
the  Holy  Ghost  is  possessed  of  the  perfec- 
tions, performs  the  works,  and  is  called  by 
the  incommunicable  name  of  God,  so  that 
it  is  wisdom  and  piety  to  pray  to  him.  For 
which  reasons,  I  make  no  doubt  but  that, 
whenever  the  apostles  put  up  such  an  ejacu- 
lation, j;  Koiyovia  ns  ny-n  iinvf/.arci  fiira  -nai- 


rtav  vy.mi,  they  accompanied  it  with  a  devout 
mentd  address  to  the  u.acreated  Spirit ;  be- 
cause it  would  be  a  piece  of  irreverence  and 
folly,  barely  to  wish  the  mercy,  and  not 
apply  to  that  ever-present  Being  for  its  ac- 
complishment. 

As  for  the  other  arguments  which  Dr. 
Watts  advances  in  order  to  vindicate  the 
custom  of  ascribing  praise  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  viz.  "  That  it  may  be  expedient  to 
practise  it  frequently  in  some  churches, 
where  it  has  been  long  ur.ed,  lest  great 
offence  should  be  given:" — "•That  it  may 
be  proper  to  use  it  sometimes,  on  purpose 
to  hold  forth  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  in 
times  of  error,  and  to  take  away  all  suspi- 
cion of  heresy  from  the  public  worship:" 
These  considerations  I  leave  to  the  Doctor. 
I  have  no  inclination  to  try  my  skill  at  such 
weapons,  but  choose  to  act  with  regard  to 
them  as  David  acted  in  relation  to  Saul's  ar- 
mour ;  because  I  really  think  that  they  ra- 
tlier  encumber  than  uphold  the  cause  ; 
They  are  so  unwarily  worded,  that  they 
represent  the  practice  not  as  a  noble  essen- 
tial piece  of  divine  worship,  founded  on  the 
strongest  and  most  invaiiable  principles^ 
always  suitable  to  our  necessities,  and  al- 
ways correspondent  to  the  nature  of  the 
blessed  Spirit ;  but  as  an  occasional  and 
time-serving  expedient,  to  be  used,  not  con- 
stantly, but  now  and  then  only;  and  that 
to  answer  a  turn  none  of  the  most  important 
— to  avoid  not  any  real  deficiency  in  wor- 
ship, but  only  a  suspicion  of  heresy.  Where- 
ever  I  am  solicitous  to  secure  the  conclu- 
sion, I  would  by  no  means  offer  to  deduce 
it  from  ,  such  unsolid  and  precarious  pre- 
mises. 

I  have  now  examined  the  most  consi- 
derable objections  urged  by  Mr.  Tomkins 
against  the  unanimous  practice  of  Christian 
congregations,  whether  they  conform  or 
dissent.  I  shall  only  beg  the  continuance 
of  your  candour  and  patience,  while  I  touch 
upon  another  particular  or  two,  which  may 
farther  corroborate  our  custom,  and  i);ove 
it  to  be  somewhat  more  than  warrantable. 

Suppose  we  produce  a  command  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  will  this  be  sufficient  to 
ascertain  the  practice  ?  Does  not  our  Sa- 
viour give  this  charge  to  his  apostles,  Fray 
ye  the  Lord  of  the  harvest,  that  he  would 
send  forth  labourers  into  his  harvest  ?  Matt. 
ix.  38.  Luke  x.  2.  Now,  I  would  humbly 
ask.  Who  the  Lord  of  this  spiritual  harvest 
is  ?  Shall  we  refer  ourselves  to  Scripture 
ibr  satisfaction  ?  Will  Mr.  Tomkins  abide 
by  the  determination  of  Scripture  ?  will  he 
honestly  acknowledge,  that,  if  the  Scripture 
declares  the  Holy  Ghost  to  be  the  Lord  of 
the  harvest,  we  have  then  a  clear  commis- 
sion, a  positive  command,  to  address  our- 
selves by  way  of  prayer  to  the  Holy  Ghost  ? 
It  is  the  Holy  Ghost  who  appoints  the  lu- 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


78:? 


bourers  that  are  to  he  employed    in    tliis 
harvest  :    The    Holy  Ghost  said,    {Separate 
nie  Kanmhas  imd  Saul,  lor  the  work  where-  \ 
unto  I  have  called  them,    Acts   xiii.  2.  and 
XK.  28.    It  is  the  Holy  Gliost  who  qualities 
tlie  workmen  that  are  to  despatch  this  mo-  t 
Dieiitous  business,  witli  wisdom,  with  know-  , 
ledge,  with  utterance,  and  with  all  miracu- 
lous ahilities,  I  Cor.  xii.  8 — 11.      It  is  the  j 
Holy  Ghost  who  makes   these  labours  ef- 
fectual, and  crowns  them  with  ample  suc- 
cess.   Acts  X.    44.   I    Thess.   i.  5.     From 
these  scriptures,  and  their  testimonies  con- 
cerniuL,'  the  blessed  Spirit,   it   seems   indis- 
j)utal)ly  plain,  that  he   is   the  Lord  of  the 
harvest.      Can    we    have    a    more    forcible 
motive  to  pray  unto   him,   than   the   consi- 
deration of  his  superintending,  conducting,  j 
and  prospering  the  progress  of  (that  best  of, 
blessings)  the  everlasting   gospel  ?     Need  i 
we  a  better  warrant  to   olfer  om'  devoutest 
applications  to  him  than  our  Lord's  express 
injunction,  viewed  in  connexion  with  these  i 
remarkable  texts  ? 

Suppose  I  prove  farther,  that  the  heaven- 
ly beings  pay  divine  worship  to  the  Holy 
Ghost  ;  suppose  I  shew  you  angels  and 
arcliaiipels  in  postures  of  j)rofoun(i  adora- 
tion at  the  throne  of  the  elernai  Spirit,  and 
gloriiying  him  in  strains  of  the  most  sublime 
devotion  :  Will  this  be  allowed  a  proper 
jirecedent  for  oiu'  practice  ?  will  any  one  be 
HO  bold  as  to  ailirm,  that  he  is  unfit  to  re- 
ceive the  worship  of  mortals  on  earth,  if  it 
appear  that  he  is  the  object  of  angelical 
worship  in  the  heaven  of  heavens?  In  the 
sixth  chapter  of  Isaiah,  we  meet  with  one 
of  the  grandest  representations  imaginable  : 
Jehovah  exhibits  himself  to  the  entranced 
)jrophet,  seated  on  a  lofty  and  august  throne; 
before  him  stood  the  inimoital  host  of  sera- 
phim ;  they  veiled  their  faces,  in  token  of 
deepest  self-abasement  ;  they  lifted  up  their 
voices  with  a  rapturous  fervour,  and  uttered 
this  magnificent  acclamation,  Holy,  holy, 
holy  is  the  Loid  of  hosts  ;  the  whole  earth 
is  full  of  his  glory.  The  trisagium  of  the 
seraphic  armies  seems  to  intimate,  that 
they  addressed  their  praises  to  the  one  Je- 
hovah in  a  trinity  of  persons.  If  you  look 
forward  to  verse  8.  you  will  find  another 
circumstance  confirming  this  remark ;  for 
the  glorious  Majesty  s])eaks  of  himself  in 
the  plmal  mnnber,  Who  will  go  for  us? 
13ut  the  proof  I  chiefly  depend  on,  the  proof 
which  is  absolutely  incontestable,  which 
none  can  deny, withoutsupposinglhemselves 
better  judges  of  the  sense  of  Scripture  than 
the  apostles — this  proof  is  found  in  Acts 
xxviii.  2a.  where  St.  Paul  evidently  apjilies 
the  words  spoken  by  this  majestic  and 
divine  Being  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  Well 
spake  the  Holy  (ihost,  saymg.  And  if  he 
attrdjutes  the  words  to  this  sacred  person, 
who  dares  separate  the  iionours?  since  all 


must  allow,  that  the  person  who  gives  the 
commission  to  the  prophet,  and  the  person 
whom  the  celestial  legions  adore,  is  one  and 
the  same.  Since  therefore  the  angels  ad- 
dress the  Holy  Ghost  with  solemn  acts  of 
praise ;  since  they  bear  united  testimony 
that  the  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  glory  ; 
Mr.  Tomkins  should  consider,  w  hether  he 
acts  a  becoming  part  in  endeavouring  to 
exclude  his  glory  from  any  Christian  con- 
gregation  by  his  example,  and  from  every 
(Christian  congiegation  by  his  writings. 

If  Mr.  Tomkins  should  still  think  his  own 
opinion  sufiicient  to  overrule  all  these  alle- 
gations of  Scripture  ;  of  greater  weight  than 
the  practice  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Thessalon- 
ians ;  more  unexceptionable,  and  fitter  to 
be  admitted  as  our  jtattern,  than  the  exam- 
ple of  the  angelic  host  ;  I  cannot  but  ima- 
gine, that  the  propriety  of  our  custom  is 
apparent,  even  on  the  tenor  of  his  own 
favourite  notions.  Page  Pith,  he  quotes 
that  grand  and  fundamental  law  of  revealed 
religion,  "  Thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord 
thy  God,  and  him  only  shalt  thou  serve." 
He  proceeds  to  consider  who  this  Lord  our 
God  is,  whom  we  are  to  serve.  He  then 
informs  us,  "  It  appears  from  the  whole 
ciu'rent  of  Scripture,  in  the  New  Testament 
as  well  as  the  Old,  that  it  is  he  who,  in 
times  past,  spake  unto  the  fathers  by  the 
prophets."  Rightly  judged.  We  make  no 
appeal  from  this  verdict,  but  acquiesce  in 
it,  though  it  is  his  own  ;  oidy  taking  along 
with  us  St.  Peter's  declaration.  Prophecy 
came  not  in  old  time  (rather  at  any  time. 
uiiquam  not  olim,  "jioti  not  TccXca)  by  tlie  will 
of  man,  but  holy  men  of  God  spake  as  they 
were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  2  Pet.  i. 
21.  Mr.  Tomkins  himself  maintains,  that 
the  genuine  and  undoubted  object  of  divine 
worship  is  that  infinitely  wise  and  gracious 
Being  who  spake  to  our  fathers  by  the 
projjhets ;  and  St.  Peter,  in  the  most 
exjjress  manner  possible,  asserts,  that  this 
infinitely  wise  and  gracious  Being,  who 
spake  by  the  prophets,  is  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Can  demonstration  itself  be  plainer?  Sine, 
then,  Mr.  Tomkins  must  either  retract  his 
position,  or  disallow  the  apostle's  ajiplication 
of  it  ;  or  else  give  us  leave  to  adhere  inviola- 
bly to  our  practice,  and  to  look  upon  it  as 
justifiable  beyond  all  reasonable  exception  ; 
and,  what  should  carry  some  peculiar  weight 
with  our  author,  justifiable  on  j)rinci[)les  of 
his  own. 

May  I  urge  this  point  a  little  farther?  I 
shoulcl  be  glad  to  know,  what  is  the  scrip- 
tural meaning  of  being  converted  unto  the 
Lord  ?  Is  it  not  to  renounce  every  lying 
vanity,  to  forsake  every  evil  way,  and  to  turn 
to  the  Lord  with  all  our  heart  ;  that  we 
may  fear  him,  love  him,  put  our  whole  trust 
in  him,  and  serve  him  truly  all  the  days  of 
our  life  ?  Does  not  this  include  some, 
3£ 


78e 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


rather,  is  it  not  comprehensive  of  all  wor- 
ship ?  So  that  if  it  is  certain  from  Scripture 
that  sinners  are  to  be  converted  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  then  it  is  equally  certain  that  sinners 
are  to  pay,  not  some  only,  but  ail  worship, 
to  that  blessed  Being,  who  is  the  centre  of 
their  souls  and  the  source  of  their  happiness. 
Be  pleased  to  read  attentively  2  Cor.  iii. 
16,  17.  and  we  dare  venture  to  stand  by 
your  decision. 

Let  me  add  one  more  consideration,  and 
I  have  done.  The  blessed  Spirit  is  to  help 
our  infirmities  in  prayer,  Rom.  viii.  26. 
The  Spirit  is  to  subdue  our  iniquities,  and 
mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body,  Rom.  viii. 
13.  The  Spirit  is  to  shed  abroad  the  love 
of  God  in  our  hearts,  Rom.  v.  3.  The 
spirit  is  to  sanctify  us  wholly,  in  all  our 
faculties,  1  Thess.  v.  23.  The  Spirit  i-i  to 
transform  us  into  the  divine  image,  2  Cor. 
iii.  18.  The  Spirit  i.s  to  seal  us  unto  the 
day  of  redemption,  Eph.  iv.  30.  ;  and  to  be 
the  earnest  of  an  incorruptible  inheritance, 
Eph.  i.  14.  In  a  word,  from  the  Spirit  we 
are  humbly  to  expect  all  the  fruits  of 
goodness,  righteousness,  and  truth,  Eph  v. 
9.  Now,  what  a  comfortable  pro.snect 
rises  before  us,  if  this  Spirit  be  the  all- 
sufficient,  the  infinite  God,  to  whom  no- 
thing is  impossible  ;  who  is  able  to  do  for 
us  exceeding  abundantly,  even  above  all 
that  we  can  ask  or  think  !  But  how  languid 
must  be  our  hopes,  how  scanty  our  expec- 
tations, if  he  be  not  the  divine  Being,  but 
only  some  finite  existence  !  And,  in  an- 
other state  of  things,  to  whom  will  right- 
eons  souls  acknowledge  themselves  ine.x- 
pressibly  indebted,  to  whom  will  they  re- 
turn their  ardent  thanks,  and  address  the 
most  joyful  praises,  but  to  the  author  of 
these  inestimable  blessings  ?  If  this  then 
is  likely  to  be  the  employ  and  the  delight  of 
heaven,  should  it  not  be  begun  on  earth? 

Upon  the  whole,  since  the  custom  of 
offering  prayer  and  addressing  praise  to  the 
Holy  Ghost,  is  contraiy  to  no  text  of  Scrip- 
ture, is  founded  upon  his  divine  nature,  and 
results  from  the  indispensable  obligation  of 
creatures  to  worship  the  Godhead  :  Since 
it  was  undeniably  the  practice  of  the  Chris- 
tian church  in  its  purest  days,  and  has  been 
received,  by  unanimous  approbation,  for 
many  hundreds  of  preceding  years  :  Since 
it  is  probable,  if  we  will  allow  their  doc- 
trines and  conduct  to  be  consistent,  it  is 
certain,  if  we  will  prefer  the  most  accurate 
and  unembarrassed  interpretation  of  their 
epistles,  that  the  apostles  used  this  method 
of  worship  :  Since  the  analogy  of  the  whole 
Scripture  justifies  it,  and  the  innumerable 
benefits  which  are  communicated  to  us  from 
the  blessed  Spirit  demand  it :  Since  angels 
ascribe  glory  to  his  awful  majesty,  and  our 
Saviour  directs  us  to  put  up  prayers  to  his 
almighty  goodness :    These,  and  other  con- 


siderations, determine  me  to  join,  without 
the  least  scruple,  with  full  assurance  of  its 
propriety,  in  that  ancient  noble  doxology, 
Glory  be  to  the  Father,  who  hath  loved  us 
with  an  everlasting  love  ;  and  to  the  Son, 
who  hath  washed  us  frori  our  sins  in  his 
own  blood  ;  and  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  who 
applies  these  blessings  of  redeeming  grace 
to  our  corrupt  hearts ;  to  this  great,  eter- 
nal, incomprehensible  Trinity,  be  rendered 
undivided  honours,  and  immortal  praise  ! 

Having  been  so  very  prolix  already,  I 
shall  not  render  myself  more  tedious  by 
making  any  apology;  but  shall  only  add, 
what  no  consideration  can  induce  me  to 
omit,  that  I  am,  dear  sir,  your  obliged  friend, 
&c. 


LETTER  XXX. 

Weston-FaveU,  March  1745-G. 

Dear  Sir, — You  have  set  me  a  task, 
which  I  should  be  glad  to  execute,  if  I  was 
able.  God  forbid  that  I  should  be  back- 
ward to  plead  for  the  interests  of  that  Re- 
deemer on  earth,  who,  I  trust,  is  making 
jierpetual  intercession  for  me  in  heaven. 
But  my  fear  is,  lest  the  noble  cause  should 
suffer  by  the  unskilfulness  of  its  defendant. 
It  is  for  this  reason,  purely  for  this  reason, 
I  wish  to  decline  accepting  the  challenge 
you  seem  to  give  me  in  your  letter.  For 
this  once,  however,  I  will  enter  the  lists, 
and  venture  to  try  the  strength,  not  of  your 
arm,  but  of  your  arguments. 

I  do  not  wonder  that  you  have  objections 
to  make  against  Christianity.  1  know  some 
eminent  Christians  who  were  formerly  warm 
and  zealous  in  the  opposition ;  yet  they 
have  frankly  owned,  that  their  minds  were 
then  either  very  inconsiderate,  or  else  im- 
mersed in  other  speculations  ;  and  that  they 
had  no  leisure,  or  no  inclination,  to  weigh 
the  evidences  and  examine  the  nature  of 
the  evangelical  doctrine.  Since  they  have 
applied  themselves  to  consider  these  points 
with  a  seriousness  and  attention  becoming 
an  inquiry  of  the  last  importance,  an  inquiry 
in  which  their  very  souls  and  all  their  eter- 
nal interests  were  embarked,  they  are  tho- 
roughly convinced  that  their  former  senti- 
ments were  wrong.  They  are  fully  per- 
suaded, that  the  gospel  institution  is  of 
divine  extract ;  that  it  is  a  system,  noble 
and  sublime,  benevolent  and  gracious,  every 
way  suitable  to  the  majesty  of  God,  and 
admirably  calculated  for  the  comfort,  the 
im])rovement,  and  the  happiness  of  man- 
kind. 

Methinks  you  will  reply,  and  very  rea- 
sonably, "  That  all  such  should  be  able  to 
account  for  the  change  of  their  opinions." 
I  dare  say  they  can.  But  as  you  call  on 
me  so  particularly  to  vindicate  the  religious 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


787 


principles  which  I  have  from  my  infiincy  acterof  an  infinitely  pood   Being,  to  make 


embraced,  I  will  now  attempt  to  vindiCiite 
tlicm  from  the  various  char|<es  of  whieii 
they  stand  arraigned  in  your  k;tter. 

iie  jjleased  then,  dear  sir,  to  observe  that 
the  Christian  doctrine  teaches,  that  when 
fiod  brought  man  into  being,  he  blessed 
him  with  a  state  perfectly  holy  and  happy. 
If  you  read  the  Bible,  the  authentic  narra- 
tive of  our  fall,  as  well  as  the  only  guide  to 
our  recovery,  you  will  find  it  an  avowed 
truth,  that  God  made  man  upright.  If, 
therefore,  man  corrupted  himself,  and  (as 
it  is  impossible  to  bring  a  clean  thing  out  of 
an  unclean)  polluted  his  offspring;  where 
is  the  har'^hiiess,  where  the  injustice,  of  the 
divine  procedure  in  adjudging  him  worthy 
of  death?  Let  God  be  justified,  and  let 
mortals  bear  t.ie  blame. 

Yun  thin!;  it  very  odd,  that  this  tragical  ca- 
tastrophe should  be  occasioiied  by  eating  an 
apj)le.  So  should  I  too,  was  there  nothing 
more  in  tlie  case  than  barely  eating  an  apple. 
But  this  was  a  wilful  and  presumptuous 
breach  of  a  most  ])ositive  command,  ol  the 
only  command  which  the  almighty  Lawgiver 
enjoined.  And  the  smaller  the  matter  of 
the  prohibition,  the  more  inexcusable  was  the 
fault  of  not  complying  with  it.  in  this  act 
of  disobedience  was  implied— the  most  per- 
verse discontent  in  the  happiest  circum- 
stances imiiginabie  ;  the  most  shameful  in- 
gratitude for  the  most  inestimable  favours  ; 
l>ride  and  arrogance,  even  to  an  unsuft'erable 
degree  ;  implicit  blasphemy,  making  God  a 
liar,  and  hearkening  to  the  suggestions  of 
the  devil,  in  preference  to  the  solemn  de- 
clarations of  truth  itself.  Indeed,  tliis 
transgression  was  a  complication  of  iniqui- 
ties ;  and,  though  represented  under  the 
extenuating  terms  of  eating  an  apple,  was 
really  the  most  horrid  provocation  that  was 
ever  committed. 

But  that  the  transgression  of  Adam 
should  fasten  guilt,  or  transmit  corruption 
to  his  latest  posterity,  this,  you  imagine,  is 
all  a  chimera.  If  then  you  was  cieated  in 
a  perfect  state  ;  if  you  suffered  nothing 
by  the  original  lapse,  why  is  yoiu'  heart 
prone  to  numberless  evils?  why  do  you 
tread  in  the  steps  of  an  apostate  ancestor  ? 
why  do  you  violate  the  law  of  an  infiiiitely 
pure  God,  and  too  often  delight  in  that 
abominable  and  accursed  thing  which  lie 
hateth — sin?  You  are  too  honest  and  in- 
genuous to  deny  the  truth  of  these  exjiostu- 
lations.  And  if  so,  you  must  allow  that 
your  nature  was  depraved  in  Adam,  or, 
which  seems  to  be  more  culpable,  that  you 
have  corru])ted  yourself  Then,  there  is 
no  such  great  cause  to  find  fault  with  the 
supreme  Disposer  of  things  for  including  yon 
in  Adam's  trespass,  since  you  yourself  do 
the  same  things. 

l.s  it  consistent,  you  ask,  « iih   the  chiir- 


this  resolve,  That  he  would,  on  account  of 
this  single  crime,  bring  into  existence  al- 
most innumerable  millions  of  creatures,  so 
spoiled  by  himself,  that  they  should  all  de- 
serve eternal  damnation  ?  I  ansv.er,  this  is 
entirely  a  misrepresentation  of  the  Christian 
scheme.  It  was  not  in  consequence  of  the 
original  crime  that  Go<i  determined  to 
bring  the  human  race  into  being,  but  in 
])ur-uance  of  his  own  eternal  purposes, 
which  are  always  the  issue  of  consummate 
wisdotn,  of  unbounded  benevolence,  and 
wdl,  unless  his  creatures  stubbornly  reject 
the  overtures  of  his  love,  terminate  \n  their 
unspeakable  felicity.  Neither  was  the  hu- 
man race  spoiled  by  the  Creator,  but  by 
themselves.  To  suppose  that  the  Author 
of  all  excellence  should  deprave  the  work 
of  his  own  hands,  is  doubtless  a  shocking 
thought,  and  such  as  we  utterly  disavow. 
So  far  was  he  from  being  the  sole  operator, 
that  he  was  not  so  much  as  accessary  in  any 
degree  to  their  misery ;  but  warned  them 
of  their  danger  ;  charged  them  to  beware  ; 
and  planted  the  barrier  of  his  own  tremen- 
dous threatenings  between  them  and 
ruin. 

You  are  displeased,  that  everlasting  hap- 
piness should  never  be  at'.aiiiiible  by  any 
of  these  creatures,  but  by  those  few  to  whom 
God  gives  his  effectual  free  grace.  If  the 
proposition  be  set  in  another  light,  which 
is  really  the  true  method  of  stating  it,  if  we 
say,  That,  though  all  have  forfeited,  yet  all 
may  recover  everlasting  happiness,  because 
effectual  grace  is  freely  offered  to  all ;  what 
can  a  man  of  candour  object  to  such  a  dis- 
pensation ?  Will  he  not  acknowledge  the 
goodness  of  the  divine  procedure,  and  in- 
veigh against  the  perverseness  of  mortals  ; 
the  most  unreasonable  perverseness  of  all 
those,  who  are  too  proud  to  be  sensible  of 
their  want  of  grace,  or  too  careless  to  trou- 
ble their  heads  about  it  ?  Will  he  not  be 
constrained  to  declare  them  suicides,  and 
that  they  are  chargeable,  if  they  perish, 
with  their  own  destiuclion  ?  If  we  pre- 
scribe a  medicine  of  sovereign  efficacy,  and 
the  sick  is  so  self-willed  as  to  refuse  the  re- 
cipe, who  is  to  be  blamed  in  case  of  a  mis- 
carriage— the  physician  or  the  patie.it? 

When,  therefore,  you'talk  of  persons  be- 
ing unavoidably  damned,  you  quite  miscon- 
ceive the  tenor  of  our  most  inercit'ul  and  be- 
nign institution ;  which  oflers  forgiveness 
to  all,  though  ever  so  profligate,  through 
the  Saviour's  atonement ;  which  makes  a 
tender  of  grace  to  all,  though  ever  so  aban- 
doned, through  the  Saviour's  mediation. 
The  language,  the  most  compassionate  lan- 
guage of  which  is,  Turn  ye,  turn  ye  from 
your  evil  ways,  for  why  will  you  die  ?  And 
because  the  sinner,  enslaved  to  vice,  is  un- 
able to  shake  off  tlie  fetters,  tt  farther  says, 


788 


A  COLLECTION 


Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive ;  seek,  and  ye 
shall  find  grace  sufficient  for  you. 

As  to  the  meaning  of  the  term  grace,  I 
apprehend  it  signifies  the  pardon  of  obnox- 
ious, and  the  acceptance  of  unworthy  per- 
sons, on  account  of  the  expiation  and 
merits  of  the  Redeemer.  It  imports  also 
a  communication  of  knowledge  and  strength 
to  ignorant  and  impotent  creatures,  that 
they  may  discern  their  Creator's  will,  and 
discerning,  may  he  enabled  to  perform  it- 
And  in  forming  these  ideas,  I  can  see  no- 
thing stupid  ;  in  expecting  these  blessings, 
nothing  foolish. 

But  still,  perhaps,  you  think  it  scarce  re- 
concileable  with  the  wisdom,  the  justice, 
the  mercy  of  God,  to  suffer  mankind  to 
fall.  That  he  foresaw  it,  and  could  have 
prevented  it,  is  undeniable.  He  foresaw  it, 
or  else  he  could  not  be  omniscient ;  he  was 
able  to  have  prevented  it,  otherwise  he 
could  not  be  omnipotent.  But  what  if  the 
eternal  Maker  knew,  that  this  would  give 
occasion  to  the  most  ample  and  glor- 
ious manifestation  of  those  very  attri- 
butes which  you  suspect  are  eclipsed  here- 
by? Would  this  conciliate  your  approba- 
tion ?  would  this  incline  you  to  acquiesce 
in  the  economy  of  the  gospel  ? 

Certainly  it  is  a  most  stupendous  discov- 
ery of  wisdom  to  find  cut  a  method,  where- 
by the  seemingly  jarring  attributes  of  jus- 
tice and  mercy  may  be  reconciled  ;  whereby 
the  sinner  may  be  saved,  without  ajiy  in- 
jury to  the  inviolable  holiness  of  his  laws, 
or  any  derogation  to  the  honour  of  hJs  just 
and  righteous  government.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  give  such  an  amazing  proof  of  his  in- 
finite kindness  for  poor  mortaJs,  as  by  de- 
livering his  own  Son  to  take  their  inferior 
nature,  and  bear  all  their  guilt.  Nor  can 
there  be  so  signal  an  exertion  of  justice,  as 
to  punish  thLs  most  excellent  Person  when 
he  stood  in  the  place  of  offenders  ;  or  of 
mercy,  as  to  divert  the  vengeance  from  tfieir 
obnoxious  to  his  immaculate  and  innocent 
head. 

As  from  the  scheme  of  redemption  the 
highest  glory  redounds  to  the  divine  ma- 
jesty, so  the  richest  consolation  is  derived 
from  hence  to  frail  creatures.  The  happi- 
ness of  men  consists  in  the  favour  of  God. 
His  love  is  better  than  life.  To  be  gra- 
ciously regarded  by  that  adorable  Being, 
who  stretched  out  the  heavens  and  laid  the 
foundations  of  the  earth  ;  to  be  the  objects 
of  his  complacency,  whose  smile  constitutes 
heaven  and  whose  frown  is  worse  than  de- 
struction ;  this,  this  is  human  felicity.  And 
how  could  God  Almighty  give  us  a  brighter 
evidence,  a  more  pregnant  proof  of  his  in- 
conceivably tender  concern  for  us,  than  by 
surrendering  his  only  Son  to  condemnation 
and  death  for  our  sake?  Transporting 
thought !     big  with  a  delight  which   man 


OF  LETTERS. 

co)dd  never  have  known  had  not  Adafrt 
fallen.  This  obviates  an  objection  on  \i  hich 
you  strongly  insist.  That  you  and  others 
never  consented  to  make  Adam  your  re- 
presentative. For  if  this  method  of  or- 
dering things  be  productive  of  a  superior 
felicity  to  all  that  are  willing  to  be  happy, 
then  it  can  be  no  wrong  to  the  vi-orld  in 
general,  or  to  any  individual  person  in  par- 
ticular ;  no  more  than  it  is  a  wrong  to  the 
minor,  for  his  guardians  to  procure  interest 
for  his  money,  and  improve  his  estate  against 
the  time  of  his  coming  to  age. 

Upon  the  whole,  there  is  no  reason  to 
quarrel  with  that  sovereign  will  of  God 
which  permitted  us  to  fall  in  Adam,  from 
thence  to  contract  guilt,  to  deiive  pollution, 
and  consequently  to  deserve  damnation  : 
But  rather,  there  is  abundant  cause  to  ad- 
mire, to  adore,  to  bless  his  holy  name,  for 
providing  a  Redeemer;  a  Redeemer  of  un  ■ 
known  dignity,  and  unutterable  perfection  ; 
a  Redeemer,  by  whom  all  the  evils  of  the 
fall  may  be  more  than  redressed  ;  a  Re- 
deemer, in  whom  all  the  awful  and  amiable 
attributes  of  the  Deity  aie  most  illustriously 
displayed  ;  a  Redeemer,  through  whom  the 
most  wicked  and  most  unfortunate  of  our 
race  may  find  mercy  ajid  arrive  at  happiness; 
a  Redeemex,  who  most  compassionately  in- 
vites all,  all  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden, 
to  come  to  him,  and  most  assuredly  declares, 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  shall  not 
perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.  And  is  it 
not  strange,  very  strange,  hardly  credible, 
sure,  that  any  should  reject  so  great  salva- 
tion, and  choose  death  rather  than  life? 

Let  me  beg  of  you,  sir,  to  consider  these 
points  with  cdmness  and  impartiality. 
You  cannot  but  be  sensible,  that  many 
learned,  many  wise,  many  excellent  persons 
most  cordially  believe  them  ;  receive  their 
chief  satisfactions  from  them,  and  would 
rather  die  than  renounce  them.  Since  it  is 
possible,  at  least,  that  they  may  be  in  the 
right ;  since  you  do  not  pretend  to  be  in- 
fallible in  your  judgment ;  and  since  you 
acknowledge  a  God  of  unerring  wisdom  and 
everlasting  goodness  ;  let  me  beseech  you 
to  implore  his  guidance  in  your  search,  and 
his  direction  in  your  determination.  For  I 
am  not  ashamed  to  own,  or  rather  lam  bold 
to  maintain,  that  this  wisdom  cometh  from 
above ;  this  wisdom  is  the  gift  of  God  ;  and 
prayer  is  altogether  as  necessary  to  its  at- 
tainment, as  sagacity  of  mind,  or  the  ac- 
complishments of  learning. 


LETTER  XXXI. 

Westoii-Favell,  Nov.  1 ,  1 746. 
Dear   Sik, — This   morning   I  received 
your  favour.    The  day  lowers,  and  threatens 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS 


789 


rain,  which  debars  me  from  the  pleasure  of 
paying  you  my  thanks  in  person. 

Mr.  Unygens  I  hope  to  rend  very  care- 
fully. But,  I  believe,  it  will  be  proper  to 
take  heed  of  adopting  into  my  jilan  any  no- 
tions that  are  diilicult  and  abstruse.  1  would 
have  every  thing  so  perspicuous,  that  the 
dimmest  understanding  may  apprehend  my 
meaning  ;  so  obvious,  that  he  \\'ho  luns  may 
lead.  Let  me  lay  before  you  a  little  sketch 
of  my  design,  with  a  request  that  you  would 
alter  the  general  order,  and  make  retrench- 
ments, or  additions  of  particular  incidents, 
as  you  shall  think  mo.-<t  exjiedient. 

A  contemplative  walk.  The  approach  of 
evening,  and  gradual  extinction  of  light- 
The  advantages  of  solitude.  The  stillness 
of  the  universe.  The  coolness  of  the  at- 
mosj)here.  Darkness,  and  its  usefulness  to 
mankind.  Sleep,  and  its  beneficial  effects. 
Dreams,  and  their  extravagance.  A  glow- 
worm glimmering.  An  owl  shrieking.  A 
nightingale  singing.  The  very  different  cir- 
cumstances of  mankind  :  some  revelling  and 
carousing;  some  agonizing  and  dying.  A 
knell  sounding.  The  notion  of  ghosts 
walking.  The  moon,  with  its  various  ap- 
pearances, and  strviceableness  to  our  globe  ; 
the  heavenly  bodies ;  their  number,  size, 
courses,  distances,  dis]ilay  many  of  the  glo- 
rious attributes  of  their  Creator ;  some  of 
which  are  specified.  They  teach  nothing  of 
redemjition  ;  this  the  jieculiar  prerogative  of 
revelation.  Christ  the  day-star  from  on 
high,  that  jioints  cut  and  makes  clear  tlie 
way  of  salvation. 

These  arc  some  of  the  subjects  which,  I 
imagined,  might  be  admitted  into  the  com- 
position of  a  night-piece.  If  others  occur 
to  yuuv  mind  more  pleasing,  or  more  strik- 
ing, be  pleased  to  suggest  them. 

I  am  glad  to  find,  by  the  quotation  from 
Mr.  Locke,  that  your  esteem  and  veneration 
for  the  Scriptures  are  on  the  increasing  hand. 
May  w'e  be  persuaded,  ever  more  and  more, 
of  the  incomparable  excellency  of  those  sa- 
cred volumes.  This  one  consideration,  that 
they  are  the  book  of  God,  is  a  higher  re- 
commendation of  them  than  could  be  dis- 
played in  ten  thousand  panegyric  orations. 
For  my  part,  I  purpose  to  addict  myself, 
with  more  incessant  assiduity,  to  this  de- 
lightful and  divine  study.  Away,  my  Ho- 
mer ;  I  have  no  more  need  of  being  enter- 
tained by  you,  since  Job  and  the  Prophets 
furnish  me  with  images  much  more  magni- 
ficent, and  lessons  infinitely  more  important. 
Away,  nry  Horace;  nor  shall  I  suffer  any 
loss  by  your  absence,  while  the  sweet  singer 
of  Israel  tunes  his  lyre,  and  charms  me  with 
the  finest  flight*  of  fancy,  and  inspirits  me 
with  the  noblest  strains  of  devotion.  And 
even  my  prime  favoinite,  my  \'irgil,  may 
withdraw  ;  since  in  Isaiah  I  enjoy  all  his 
majesty  of  sentiment,  all  his  correctness  of 


judgment,  all  his  beautiful  propriety  of  dic- 
tion, and — But  I  must  have  dotie.  The 
m.essenger  waits  ;  he  can  stay  no  lon^'er  than 
barely  to  allow  me  leisure  to  subscribe  my- 
self, dear  sir,  &c. 


LETTER  XXXn. 

Weston-Favell,  Nov.  29,  1746. 

Deak  Sih, — Having  taken  cold,  and  got 
a  hoarseness,  I  am  afraid  to  venture  abroad, 
lest  I  should  lo^e  my  voice,  and  be  incapable 
of  jjerforming  the  duly  of  the  morrow. 

If  any  method  is  agreed  upon  by  the  com- 
mittee, for  endeavouring,  in  some  more  ef- 
fectual manner,  to  promote  the  spiritual  re- 
covery and  everlasting  welfare  of  the  infir- 
mary patients,  I  wish  you  would  be  so  kind 
as  to  inform  me  of  it  in  a  letter,  that,  if  any 
part  of  this  generous  undertaking  should  fall 
to  my  share,  I  may  address  myself  to  the 
prosecution  of  it,  with  all  the  ability  which 
the  Divine  Goodness  shall  vouchsafe  to 
communicate.  Or,  if  there  be  no  need  of 
my  concurrence,  that  I  may  accompany  it 
with  my  best  wishes,  and,  at  least,  further 
it  with  my  prayers.     Who  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XXXIIL 

My  very  dear  Friend, — Your  last 
found  me  on  the  recovering  hand,  getting 
strength  and  spirits,  though  by  slow  de- 
grees. 

Soon  after  I  received  your  favour,  a  mes- 
senger came  from  London,  bringing  us  the 
alarming  news,  that  my  youngest  brother 
was  extremely  ill.  My  father's  bowelg 
yearned,  and  his  heart  bled ;  but  the  infir- 
mities of  age,  and  an  unwieldy  constitution, 
hindered  him  from  taking  the  journey.  Upon 
me,  therefore,  the  office  fell.  Feeble  and 
languid  as  I  was,  there  was  no  rejecting 
such  a  call.  Accordingly  I  took  coach, 
and  in  two  days  arrived  safe  at  London, 
where  I  found  my  poor  brother  (the  packer) 
seized  with  a  most  violent  fever.  He  was 
attended  by  two  eminent  physicians  ;  but 
they  proved  vain  helpers,  and  miserable 
comforters.  For  a  considerable  time  his 
stout  constitution  struggled  with  the  disease, 
but  at  last  was  forced  to  yield,  was  forced 
to  dro])  in  the  dreadl'ul  combat.  After  at- 
tending his  sick-bed  for  several  days,  I  had 
the  melancholy  task  of  closing  his  dear 
eyes,  and  resigning  him  up  to  death. 

Oh  !  the  inicertainty  of  moitol  things  ! 
What  is  health  but  a  glimmering  taper,  that 
expires  while  it  shines,  and  is  liable  to  be 
extinguished  by  every  motion  of  the  air? 
What  is  strength,  but  a  tender  blossomj 


7f;o 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


thiit  is  often  withered  in  its  fullest  bloom  ; 
often  blnstc^d,  even  before  it  is  blown  ?  \Vbo 
could  have  thought  that  I  should  survive 
my  brother,  and  follow  him  to  the  grave  ? 
I,  sickly  and  enervated,  he  always  lively 
and  vigorous  ;  In  flourishing  circumstances, 
and  blessed  with  prosperity  in  his  business  ; 
but  now  removed  to  the  dark,  inactive, 
silent  tomb  :  Lately  married  to  a  beautiful 
and  blooming  bride  ;  but  now  everlastingly 
divorced,  and  a  companion  for  creeping 
things. 

Scarce  was  I  returned  to  Weston,  but 
another  awful  providence  fetched  me  from 
home.  My  very  worthy  physician.  Dr. 
Stonehouse,  who  lives  and  practises  at 
Northampton,  had  the  misfortune  to  lose 
an  amiable  and  excellent  wife.  She  ako 
was  snatched  away  in  the  morning  of  life 
(aged  25),  and  dead  before  I  so  much  as 
heard  of  her  being  disordered.  At  this 
valuable  frier.ds  house  I  was  desired  to 
abide  some  tim?,  in  order  to  assist  in  writ- 
ing letters  for  him,  and  despatching  his  ne- 
cessary affairs  ;  in  comforting  hiin  concern- 
ing the  deceased ;  and  (if  the  will  of  God 
be  so)  in  endeavouring  to  i!n[)rove  the 
awakening  visitation  to  our  mutual  good. 

You  will  surely  say,  when  you  read  this 
account,  that  I  have  been  in  deaths  oft. 
Once  upon  the  borders  of  it  myself,  and 
more  than  once  a  spectator  of  its  victory 
over  others.  However,  my  dear  friends, 
let  us  not  be  dismayed.  I^et  no  man's,  at 
least  no  believer's,  heart  fail,  because  of 
this  king  of  terrors.  Though  thousands 
fall  beside  us,  though  ten  thousands  expire 
at  our  right  hand,  and  though  we  ourselves 
must  quickly  give  up  the  ghost ;  yet  the 
word  is  gone  out  of  our  great  Redeemer's 
mouth,  and  it  shall  not  return  unfulfilled, — 
I  will  swallow  up  death  in  victory.  He 
shall  stand  at  the  latter  day  upon  the  eai'th  : 
he  shall  say  to  the  grave.  Give  up  ;  and  to 
the  sea,  Keep  not  back ;  release  my  sons 
from  your  dark  confinement,  and  restore 
my  daughters  to  their  everlasting  Father's 
arms.  Then  shall  we  lead  him  captive 
whose  captives  we  were,  and  triumph  eter- 
nally over  this  last  enemy.  In  the  mean 
time,  let  us  lay  all  our  help,  all  our  grult, 
upon  the  divine  Author  of  our  faith,  and 
Captain  of  our  salvation.  So  shall  we  no 
longer  bo  in  bondage,  through  fear  of  death  ; 
but,  with  the  saints  of  old,  overcome  through 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb ;  overcome  the 
dread,  even  while  we  sink  beneath  the 
stroke  of  this  our  mortal  foe. 

What  I  wrote  concerning  a  firm  faith  in 
God's  most  precious  promises,  and  an  hum- 
ble trust  that  we  are  the  objects  of  his  ten- 
der love,  is  what  I  desire  to  feel,  rather 
than  what  I  actually  experience.  Conside- 
rations they  are,  with  which  I  would  ply 
my  own  heart,  in  hojies  that  they  may  be 


effectually  set  home  by  divine  grace,  in 
hopes  that  they  may  become  the  happy 
means  of  making  me  strong  in  faith,  and 
enabling  me  thereby  to  give  glory  to  God. 
Your  reniurks  on  this  important  point  are 
exceedingly  judicious,  and  perfectly  right. 
After  which,  it  will  be  insignificant  to  my 
friend,  and  look  like  arrogance  in  his  cor- 
respondent, to  add,  that  they  exactly  coin- 
cide with  my  sentiments. 

I  do  not  doubt  but  there  are  many  dear 
children  of  the  blessed  God,  who  are  in  a 
much  bitter  condition,  with  regard  to  his 
favour,  than  they  can  easily  be  persuaded 
to  believe.  Many  sincerely  righteous,  for 
whom  light  is  sown  ;  many  true  hearted,  for 
whom  joyfid  gladness  is  prepared ;  which, 
though  latent  in  the  furrows  of  inward  tri- 
bulation, or  oppressed  under  the  clods  of 
misgiving  fears,  shall,  in  another  world, 
spring  up  with  infinite  increase,  and  yield 
an  everlasting  harvest. 

That  humble  hope,  mixed  with  trembling, 
you  have  very  pathetically  described,  in  the 
breathings  of  a  renewed  soul  panting  after 
God ;  languishing  for  the  tokens  of  his 
love  ;  ardently  desiring  the  final  enjoyment 
of  him  in  his  heavenly  kingdom  ;  and  rely- 
ing wholly  on  the  meritorious  passion, 
pleading  nothing  but  the  perfect  righteous- 
ness of  Jesus  Christ.  Happy,  without  all 
peradventure,  happy  the  heart,  in  which 
such  affections  habitually  prevail.  They 
are  the  beginning  of  heaven,  and  will  cer- 
tainly be  completed  in  glory.  They  con- 
stitute a  signal  part  of  that  meetness  for  the 
inheritance  of  saints  in  light,  concerning 
which  the  apostle  speaks,  and  which  is  one 
of  the  surest  evidences  of  our  designation 
to  that  jjurchased  possession.  Christ  will 
in  no  wise,  on  no  consideration  of  past  pro- 
vocation or  present  corruption,  either  for 
weakness  of  faith  or  want  of  confidence, 
cast  out  such  a  one.  Let  not  such  a  one 
question,  but  he  who  has  begun  the  good 
work  will  accomplish  it  even  unto  the  end. 
We  should,  however,  as  you  most  perti- 
nently observe,  lament  all  the  remains  of 
unbelief  as  a  misery ;  repent  of  them  as  a 
sin  ;  and  labour  to  obtain  a  more  assured 
faith,  both  as  our  duty  aiid  our  felicity. 
The  direction  for  prayer,  you  know,  is,  that 
we  draw  near  in  full  assurance  of  faith  :  and, 
whatsoever  things  ye  ask  in  prayer,  believe 
that  ye  receive  them,  and  ye  shall  have 
them.  The  Thessalonians  are  commended 
for  receiving  the  gospel  with  much  assur- 
ance of  faith.  Receiving  the  gospel !  AVhat 
is  meant  by  that  expression  ?  Believing 
that  the  apostles  were  no  impostors  ;  that 
Jesus  Christ  was  the  true  Messiah ;  and 
that  his  doctrine  came  from  heaven  ?  This, 
and  alnmdantly  more,  I  apprehend,  it  im. 
plies.  That  Christ  died,  not  for  sins  only 
in  genera],  but  for  their  sins  m  panicular  j 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


r»i 


tl:at  he  bore  all  their  iniquities,  in  his  own 
hleeding  body  and  agonizing  soul,  on  the 
cursed  tree  ;  that  all  their  crimes  being 
fully  expiated,  the  most  rigorous  justice 
would  not  demand  a  double  payment  for 
the  same  debt ;  and  consequently,  that  there 
remained  no  condemnation  for  them.  This 
is  the  glad  tidings,  which  they  not  only  at- 
tended to,  and  credited  with  a  sjjeculative 
assent ;  but  with  a  personal  application  of 
it,  each  to  his  particular  case.  And  why 
should  not  we  do  the  very  same  ?  I  shall 
only  subjoin  further  on  this  head,  what  I 
t;ike  to  be  a  very  clear  and  accurate  expla- 
nation of  the  apostle's  celebrated  definition 
of  faith  :  Faith  is  the  substance  of  things 
hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen  ; 
putting  us  into  a  kind  of  present  possession 
of  the  promises,  and  setting  divine  truths 
before  the  mind  in  all  the  light  and  power 
of  demonstration.  For  this  beautiful  il- 
lustration of  the  inspired  writer,  I  am  ob- 
liged to  an  excellent  clergyman  of  this 
neighbourhood,  who  lately  favoured  us  with 
an  admirable  visitation  sermon  ;  and,  for  the 
good  of  the  public,  was  prevailed  on  to  print 
it.  Yon  will  give  me  leave  to  close  the 
topic  with  a  distinction  which  I  have  some- 
where read,  or  on  some  occasion  heard ;  a 
distinction  which  I  think  properly  adjusts 
the  case  under  consideration,  and  settles  it, 
neither  on  a  precarious  nor  a  discouiaging 
issue.  Many  have  the  faith  wliich  bringeth 
salvation,  who  have  not  that  faith  which 
produceth  assurance  ;  but  none  have  the  for- 
mer who  do  not  aspire  after  and  endeavour 
to  possess  the  latter. 

On  the  whole,  I  heartily  beseech  the 
adorable  and  infinitely  gracious  Giver  of 
eveiy  perfect  gift,  to  cstaljlish,  strengthen, 
settle  us  in  the  faith  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ;  that  he  would  fulfil  in  us  all  the 
good  pleasure  of  his  will,  and  the  work  of 
faith  with  power.  And  I  dare  say,  we  shall 
often  lift  up  our  hearts  to  our  heavenly  Fa- 
ther, and  breathe  out  that  ardent  petition. 
Lord,  I  believe ;  help  thou  mine  unbelief ! 
If  we  have  such  frequent  recourse  to  the 
overflowing  and  inexhaustible  fountain  of  all 
good  ;  if  we  add  to  our  prayers  meditation 
on  the  merits  of  Jesus,  and  on  the  sure 
word  of  promise, — our  faith  will  grow  ;  the 
grain  of  mustard-seed  will  be  quickened, 
and  shoot  up  into  a  tree  ;  the  little  drop 
will  become  a  stream,  and  the  stream  spread 
into  a  river.  The  waters  that  issued  from 
the  sanctuary  were,  at  first,  deep  to  the 
ancles  only  ;  then  they  arose  to  the  knees  ; 
soon  they  reached  the  loins ;  and  were  af- 
terwards waters  to  swim  in. 

The  Contemplations  you  are  pleased  to 
inquire  after  are,  after  long  delays,  or  a  veiy 
slow  procedure  of  the  press,  lauiu-hcd  into 
the  world.  "What  may  be  their  fate  I  dare 
not  conjecture.     Whether,  by  the  general 


disapprobation,  they  may  be  unfortunately 
becalmed  ;  or,  by  the  severity  of  critics, 
may  split  on  the  rocks  of  censure ;  or, 
foundering  through  their  own  unwor- 
thiness,  may  sink  in  oblivion ;  or,  blessed 
by  a  gracious  Providence,  may  gain  the 
haven  of  public  acceptance,  and  import 
those  valuable  commodities,  pleasure  which 
improves,  and  improvement  which  delights. 
When  they  reach  your  parts,  be  so  good, 
dear  sir,  as  to  peruse  them,  first  with  the 
humble  child-like  spirit  of  a  Christian,  who 
seeks  religious  advantage  in  all  that  he  reads. 
Next,  with  the  candid  rigour  of  a  friend, 
saying,  as  you  proceed.  Here  his  thoughts 
are  redundant,  and  want  the  pruning  knife  ; 
there  they  are  deficient,  and  call  for  the 
grafter's  hand  ;  here  the  language  is  obscure, 
and  perspicuity  is  the  only  remedy  ;  there 
it  is  inexpressive,  and  must  be  rendered 
more  nervous,  in  order  to  reach  the  judg- 
ment or  strike  the  passions.  Above  all, 
let  me  beg  of  you  to  implore  a  blessing  from 
the  most  high  God,  both  upon  the  author 
and  his  piece  ;  that  the  one  may  be  a  monu- 
ment of  divine  mercy,  the  other  a  polished 
shaft  in  the  great  Immanuel's  quiver. 

Should  not  a  sense  of  his  love  make  us 
more  ardently  desirous  of  bringing  others  to 
partake  of  that  everlasting  bliss  which  we 
humbly  expect  as  our  final  portion  ;  and  of 
which  some  foretastes  have  been  indulged 
even  in  our  present  state  ?  Should  we  not 
be  stirred  up  with  greater  assiduity  and 
love,  to  warn  every  man,  and  exhort  every 
man,  that  they  also  may  be  presented  per- 
fect in  Christ,  and  bve  for  ever  in  the  light 
of  his  countenance  ?  The  book  I  mentioned 
formerly,  and  took  leave  to  recommend, 
shall  be  sent.  1  have  set  it  apart  as  a  pre- 
sent for  my  dear  friend ;  and  whether  my 
life  be  prolonged,  or  my  death  hastened, 
neither  of  these  circumstances  shall  make 
any  alteration  in  my  design.  Only  let  me 
desire  you,  in  your  next,  to  give  me  once 
more  the  proper  directions  for  conveying  it 
to  you  ;  for,  some  way,  or  other,  in  my  late 
unsettled  state,   I  have  mislaid  your  letter. 

Please  to  present  my  thanks  to  Mrs.  

for  her  kind  wishes  ;  and  tell  her,  that  they 
are,  and  shall  be  most  cordially  returned,  by 
her  and  your  most  faithful  and  affectionate 
friend,  &c. 


LETTER  XXXIV. 

Wes(07i-Favell,  Feb.  2S,  17-17. 
Dear  Sni, — I  havk  read  the  ingenious 
gentleman's  letter  attentively.  Though  he 
says  the  strongest  things  that  can  be  urged 
upon  the  point,  I  still  adhere  to  my  senti- 
ments ;  and  not  because  they  are  mine,  but 
the  Scripture's,  and  supportable,  I  am  per- 


7f)2 


A   COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


simded,  by  a  variety  of  texts  from  the  oracles 
of  truth.  I  beg  leave  to  waive  the  prose- 
cution of  tlie  controversy.  Controversy  is 
what  I  naturally  dislike,  and  what  I  have 
seldom  found  advantageous.  I  know  his 
oi)inion,  and  he  has  given  me  an  opportunity 
of  decliiiing  mine  ;  and  would  only  add, 
that  if  in  any  thing  we  be  otherwise  minded, 
(than  is  consistent  with  the  gospel  of  grace) 
God  (upon  a  diligent  application  to  his 
word,  and  humble  prayer  for  the  teaching  of 
his  Spirit)  will  reveal  this  unto  us,  Phil, 
iii.  15. 

I  have  been  reading  Mr.  Baxter's  Saint's 
Everlasting  Rest,  and  admire  the  copious- 
ness, the  justness,  and  the  devotion  of  his 
thoughts.  How  happy  the  soul  that,  while 
leading  them,  can  make  them  liis  own  ! 
May  this  be  always  the  prevailing  desne, 
and,  in  due  time,  tlie  heaven-vouch>ated 
])ortion  of  the  worthy  owner  of  the  book, 
»ind  of  his  most  affectionate  friend,  ike. 


LETTER  XXXV. 

Westnn-FavelU  Feb.  1747. 

Deau  Sir, — I  have  heard  nothing  from 
my  printer  during  all  this  interval.  What 
can  be  the  reason  of  his  long  silence,  and 
great  negligence,  I  cannot  imagine.  Rut 
this  week  it  occurred  to  my  mind,  that  if 
he  delays  the  second  edition  at  this  rate,  I 
may  possibly  be  able  to  prepare  the  third 
letter  to  accomjiany  it.  Accordingly,  I  have 
postponed  other  business,  and  applied  wholly 
to  this  work.  I  have  transcribed  some  part 
of  ihe  intended  piece,  and  send  it  for  your 
perusal.  Pray  be  so  good  as  to  examine  it 
narrowly,  and  favour  me  with  your  remarks 
and  improvements,  on  a  separate  paper. 
There  are,  I  fear,  besides  more  material 
faults,  several  mistakes  in  the  copy,  owing 
to  my  want  of  leisure  to  review  it.  I  sup- 
pose the  remainder  of  my  design,  when  com- 
pleted, will  consist  of  about  the  same  num- 
ber of  pages. 

If  I  live  till  IMonday,  I  propose  to  visit 
my  patient  at  the  infirmary  ;  and,  if  com- 
pany happens  to  be  agreeable,  will  take  the 
pleasure  of  spending  an  hour  with  a  certain 
valuable  and  very  much  esteemed  friend  at 
Northampton.  If  you  are  not  able  to  guess 
the  person  I  mean,  you  shall  soon  be  in- 
formed by,  dear  sir,  yours,  &c. 

Vir  bonus  et  prudens  versus  reprehendet  inertes, 
Culpabit  duros,  incomptis  allinet  atrum 
Traiisverso  calamo  signuni,  ambitioso  lecidet 
Omamenta,  parum  ciaiis  lucem  dare  coget, 
Arguet  arabigue  dictum,  mutandonotabit. — Hob  ace. 

This  I  transcribe,  not  to  inform  you  of 
the  critic's  office,  but  only  to  apprize  you 
of  what  I  wish,  and  what  I  humbly  re- 
quest. 


LETTER  XXXVI. 

Weston-FaveU,  April  12,  1747. 
Dear  Sir, — I  have  folded  down  a  come: 
of  the  leaf  at  the  place  where  your  perusal 
left  off  There  is  a  note  or  two  subjoined 
to  the  preceding  pages,  which  I  wish  you 
would  please  to  examine.  My  humble  ser- 
vice to  Dr. I  desire  he  will  write 

his  remarks  and  corrections  on  a  separate 
paper.  What  think  you  of  the  following 
lines  for  a  motto  ' 

Night  opes  the  noblest  scenes,  and  sheds  an  awe 
Which  gives  those  venerable  scents  full  weight. 
And  deep  impression  on  the  inten<ler'd  heart. 

Njght  Thouohts 

Si  quid  novisti  rectius  istis, 

Candidas  imperii. 

Your  plan  for  forming  a  Christian  society, 
and  regulating  our  interviews,  I  greatly 
approve.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  complete. 
I  see  nothing  that  should  be  taken  from  it, 
nor  can  think  of  any  thing  to  be  added  to 
it-  I  heartily  wish  to  have  it  carried  into 
execution,  and  hope  it  will  be  productive  of 
considerable  coiniort  and  advantage  to  the 
membeis  ;  and  not  to  them  only,  but,  by 
rendering  them  more  useful  in  their  respec- 
tive stations,  to  many  others. 

A  cold,  and  hoarseness  on  my  voice,  make 

me  somewhat  fearful  of  coming  to this 

day.  I  hope  you  have  perused  the  remain- 
der of  the  manuscript ;  and  cannot  but  wish 
you  would  give  the  whole  a  second  reading. 
The  unknown  importance  of  what  we  print, 
inclines  me  to  urge  this  request.  Yv^ho  can 
tell  how  long  it  may  continue,  and  into  what 
hands  it  may  come  ?  I  almost  tremble  at 
such  a  thought,  lest  I  should  write  unad- 
visedly with  my  pen,  and  injure  instead  of 
serving  the  best  of  causes. 

If  you  have  put  my  little  piece  into  the 

hands  of  my  Aristarchus,  Dr. I  mean, 

desire  him  to  be  particidarly  attentive  to  the 
redundancies,  and  lop  them  off  with  a  plenti- 
fid  hand. 

I  shall  soon  create  you  a  second  task,  by 
transmitting  for  your  correction  twenty  folio 
pages  of  remarks  on  the  stars,  and  serious 
improvements Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  XXXVIL 

Weston-Favell,  June '27,  1747. 
My  dear  Friend, —  Coming  home  ihis 
evening,  1  could  not  forbear  musing  on  the 
various  topics  which  furnished  matter  for  our 
discourse  ;  and  now  I  am  all  thoughtful  and 
retired,  I  cannot  forbear  taking  notice  of 
some  particidars  relating  to  our  conversa- 
tion. To  be  silent  in  such  a  case,  would,  I 
am  persuaded,  be  more  dis])leasing  to  a  gen- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


703 


riemen  of  your  discernment  and  generosity, 
than  to  use  the  utmost  freedom  of  speech. 

Was  it  you,  dear  sir,  or  I,  that,  when  a 
certain  passa^'e  in  Scripture  happened  to  he 
mentioned,  treated  it,  not  indeed  with  a 
ooiitcm])tuous  disdain,  but  with  too  ludi 
crous  an  air  ?  descanted  on  it  in  a  sportive 
and  frolicsome  manner,  in  order  to  create  a 
little  pleasantry  ?  If  I  was  the  person  that 
indulged  this  improper  levity,  I  beseech  you 
to  relnike  me,  and  severely  too.  Though 
iny  design  niight  be  innocent,  my  conduct 
was  apparently  wrong.  That  infinitely  pre 
cious  and  important  book  should  be  always 
held  in  tlie  highest  veneration.  Whatever 
the  divine  Spirit  vouchsafes  to  dictate, 
should  he  thought  and  spoke  of  by  mortals, 
with  gratitude,  dutifulness,  and  awe.  It  is 
the  character  of  a  religious  man,  that  he 
trembles  at  God's  word !  and  it  is  said  of 
the  great  Jehovah,  that  he  has  magnified  his 
name  and  his  word  above  all  things. 

Who  was  it,  dear  sir,  that  lent  to  our  va- 
luable friend  that  vile  book,  Le  So))ha,  and 
yet  wrote  by  Crebillon,  with  an  enchanting 
spirit  of  elegance  ;  which  must  render  the 
mischief  palatable,  and  the  bane  even  deli- 
cious ?  I  wonder  that  your  kind  and  bene- 
volent heart  could  recommend  arsenic  for  a 
regale.  It  puts  me  in  mind  of  the  impois- 
oned  shirt  presented  to  Hercules.  I  am  sine 
you  did  not  think  on  it,  or  else  you  would 
no  more  have  transmitted  such  a  pestdent 
treatise  to  the  perusal  of  a  friend,  than  you 
would  transmit  to  him  a  packet  of  goods 
from  a  country  depopulated  by  the  plague. 
If  that  polluting  French  book  still  remains 
in  your  study,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  make  it 
perform  quarantine  in  the  flames. 

The  last  j)articular  relates  to  attendance 
on  the  public  worship  of  God.  Let  us  not 
neglect  the  assembling  ourselves  together. 
This  was  the  advice  of  the  best  and  greatest 
casuist  in  the  world  ;  not  to  say,  the  injunc- 
tion of  the  Maker  of  all  things,  and  Judge 
of  all  men.  Would  we  be  assured  of  our 
love  to  God  ?  This  is  one  evidence  of  that 
most  noble  and  hajjpy  temper, — Lord,  I 
have  loved  the  habitation  of  thy  house,  and 
the  place  where  thy  honour  dwelleth. 
Would  we  glorify  the  Lord  ?  Then  let  us 
appear  in  his  courts,  fall  low  on  our  knees 
before  his  footstool,  and  in  this  public  man- 
ner avow  him  for  our  God,  recognise  him 
for  our  King,  and  acknowledge  him  to  be 
our  Supreme  Good.  Would  we  follow  the 
example  of  our  devout  and  blessed  iVIaster  ? 
Let  us  remember  how  it  is  written,  Jesus 
went  into  the  synagogue,  as  his  custom  was. 
And,  if  we  take  due  care  to  get  our  hearts 
prepared,  ity  a  little  previous  meditation  and 
t-aniest  prayer,  I  dare  answer  for  it,  our  at- 
tendance will  not  be  in  vain  in  the  Lord. 
God  will,  according  to  his  [iromise,  meet  us 
in    his  ordinances  ;  make  us  joyful  in  his 


house  of  prayer  -.  and  we  shall  experience 
what  (if  I  remember  right)  that  brightest 
ornament  of  the  court  of  judicature.  Judge 
Hales,  declared.  That  he  never  sat  under  the 
preaching,  even  of  the  meanest  sermon,  but 
he  found  some  word  of  edification,  exhorta- 
tion, or  comfort. 

Dear  sir,  bestow  a  thought  on  these  things. 
If  the  remonstrances  are  wrong,  I  willingly 
retract  them  ;  if  right,  you  will  not  pro- 
nounce me  impertinent.  Love  and  friend- 
ship dictate  what  I  write  ;  and  the  only  end 
1  have  in  view,  is  the  holiness,  tlie  useful- 
ness, the  happiness,  the  final  salvation  of 
my  much  esteemed  friend.  It  is  for  this, 
this  only,  I  have  now  taken  my  pen  in  hand, 
and  for  this  I  shall  often  bend  my  knees  be- 
fore God,  and  thereby  prove  myself  to  be, 
dear  sir,  &c. 


LETTER  XXXV^in. 

Weston- Favell,  July  18,  1747. 
Dkar  Sill, — I  desire  you  to  accept  my 
thanks  for  the  variety  of  beautiful  lines 
which  you  sent  me  to  choose  a  motto  from. 
They  are  all  elegant,  but  not  sufficiently 
expressive  of  the  design  of  the  piece. 
Therefore  I  imagined  the  following  quota- 
tion from  Dr.  Young  somewhat  more  suita- 
ble :— 

Night  is  fair  virtue's  immemoria]  friend  : 

The  conscious  moon,  through  every  distant  age. 

Has  held  a  lamp  to  wisdom. 

You  advised  me  to  add  a  sort  of  note  to  the 

jiassage  objected  to  by  Mr. ,  relating  to 

the  spark's  being  visible.      In  j)ursuance  of 
your  direction,  I  subjoined  the  following  : — 

"  I  beg  leave  to  inform  the  young  gentle- 
man, whose  name  dignifies  my  dedication, 
that  this  was  a  remark  of  his  worthy  father, 
when  we  rode  together,  and  conversed  in  a 
dusky  evening.  I  mention  this  circiun- 
stance,  partly  to  secure  the  paragraph  from 
contempt,  partly  to  give  him,  and  the  world, 
an  idea  of  that  eminently  serious  taste  which 
distinguished  my  worthy  fiiend.  The  less 
obvious  the  reilection,  the  more  clearly  it 
discovers  a  turn  of  mind  remarkably  spirit- 
ual, which  would  suifer  nothing  to  escape 
without  yielding  some  spiritual  improve- 
ment. And  the  meaner  the  incident,  the 
more  admirable  was  that  fertility  of  imagi- 
nation, which  could  deduce  the  noblest 
truths  from  the  most  trivial  occurrences." 

AV'ill  not  this  be  looked  upon  as  a  sly 
underhand  iirtifice  whereby  the  author  ex- 
tols himself  ? 

I>oes  the  famous  Dutch  philosopher, 
Nieuentyt  (I  think  is  his  name),  treat  of 
the  heavenly  bodies?  If  he  does,  be  so  good, 
in  case  he  dwells  in  your  study,  to  send  him 


794 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


on  a  week's  visit  to  me.  Dr.  Watt's  treatise 
on  astronomy  I  should  be  glad  to  peruse. 

The  Hymn  to  the  Moon,  whoever  is 
meant  by  Scriblerus  Decimus  Maximus,  is 
very  poetical.  I  durst  not  venture  to  add 
what  is  wanting  to  render  it  a  complete  ad- 
dress, lest  it  should  become  like  the  vision- 
ary image,  whose  head  was  of  gold,  his  feet 
of  iron  and  clay. 

My  transient  remarks  on  Dr.  Rymer's 
Representation  of  Revealed  Religion  are 
lost.  I  must  desire  leave  to  postpone  my 
observations  on  the  other  books. — lam,  dear 
sir,  &c. 


LETTER  XXXIX. 

Weston-Favell,  Aug.  8,  1747. 

Dear  Sir, — After  my  thanks  for  what 
passed  in  yesterday's  interview,  give  me 
leave  to  add  my  acknowledgments  for  the 
perusal  of  your  poem  entitled  The  Deity. 
It  is  a  noble  piece,  quite  poetical,  truly 
evangelical,  and  admirably  fitted  to  alarm 
and  comfort  the  heart,  to  delight  and  im- 
prove the  reader.  I  must  desire  to  read  it 
again. 

I  visited  the  poor  condemned  malefactor  ; 
found  him  an  ignorant  person  ;  aimed  chief- 
ly at  these  two  grand  points,  to  convince 
him  of  the  heinousness  of  his  sin,  and  shew 
him  the  all-sufficiency  of  the  Saviour  to 
obtain  pardon  even  for  the  very  vilest  of 
offenders.  To  preach  and  teach  Jesus 
Christ,  is  our  office;  to  make  the  doctrine 
effectual,  God's  great  prerogative.  Nothing 
more  occurs,  but  that  I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XL.  • 

Weston-Favell,  Aug.  8,  1747. 

Dearest  Mr. ,  I  ought  to  take 

shame  to  myself,  for  suffering  so  kind  a 
letter,  received  from  so  valuiible  a  iriend, 
to  remain  so  long  unanswered.  Upon  no 
other  consideration  than  that  of  my  enfeeb- 
led and  languishing  constitution,  can  I  ex- 
cuse myself,  or  hope  for  your  pardon.  My 
health  is  continually  upon  the  decline,  and 
the  springs  of  life  are  all  relaxing.  Mine 
age  is  departing,  and  removing  from  me  as 
a  shepherd's  tent-  Medicine  is  baffied  ; 
and  iny  physician.  Dr.  Stonehouse,  who  is 
a  dear  friend  to  his  patient,  and  a  lover  of 
the  Lord  Jesus,  pities,  but  cannot  succour 
me.  This  blessing,  however,  together  with 
a  multitude  of  others,  the  divine  goodness 
vouchsafes  to  gild  the  gloom  of  decaying 
jiature,  that  I  am  racked  with  no  pajn,  itnrl 
enjoy  the  free  undisturbed  exercise  of  my 
understanding. 


I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  carnnrrg 
my  message  to  the  Abbey  with  so  mucti 
speed,  and  conveying  to  me  with  equal  des- 
patch a  satisfactory  answer.  When  you 
visit  the  worthy  family  again,  be  pleased, 
after  presenting  my  affectionate  compli- 
ments, and    most  cordial   good  wishes,  to 

inform  Mrs.  ,  that  the  piece  is  sent  to 

the  press,  and  after  some  correctiotis  made 
in  the  dedication,  addressed  to  my  god-son. 
It  is  my  humble  request  to  him,  and  my 
earnest  prayer  to  God,  that  he  may  regard 
it,  not  merely  as  a  complimentary  form,  but 
as  the  serious  and  pathetic  advice  of  his 
father's  intimate  acquaintance,  and  his  soul's 
sincere  friend ;  who,  in  all  probability,  will 
be  cut  off  from  every  other  opportunity  of 
fulfilling  his  sacred  engagements,  and  ad- 
monishing him  of  whatever  a  Christian 
ought  to  know  and  believe  to  his  soul's 
health. 

I  forgot  whether  I  told  you,  that  the  last 
work  will  be  divided  into  two  parts  ;  will 
be  full  as  large  as  the  two  first  letters  ;  and 
therefore  the  whole  will  be  disposed  into 
two  small  pocket  volumes,  on  a  very  neat 
paper,  with  an  elegant  type,  in  duodecimo, 
iiut  a  convenient  number  of  the  new  essays 
will  be  printed  in  the  octavo  size  and  cha- 
racter, for  the  satisfaction  of  those  who 
purchased  the  former  edition,  and  may  pos- 
sibly be  willing  to  complete  their  book. 
It  was  a  considerable  time  before  I  could 
think  of  a  title  for  the  lust  pieces,  that 
suited  their  nature,  and  expressed  their  de- 
sign. At  length  I  have  determined  to  style 
them  Contemplations  on  the  Night,  and 
Contemplations  on  the  Stany  Heavens. 

Now  I  apprehend  myself  to  be  near  the 
close  of  life,  and  stand,  as  it  were,  on  the 
brink  of  the  grave,  with  eternity  full  in  my 
view,  perhaps  my  dear  friend  would  be  glad 
to  know  my  sentiments  of  things  in  this 
awful  situation.  At  such  a  junctui'e,  the 
mind  is  most  unprejudiced,  and  the  judgment 
not  so  liable  to  be  dazzled  by  the  glitter  of 
worldly  objects. 

I  thiiilv,  then,  dear  sir,  that  we  are  ex- 
tremely mistaken,  and  sustain  a  mighty  loss 
in  our  most  important  interests,  by  reading 
so  much,  and  praying  so  little.  Was  1  to 
enjoy  Hezekiah's  grant,  and  have  fifteen 
years  added  to  my  life,  I  would  be  much 
more  frequent  in  my  applications  to  the 
throne  of  grace.  I  have  read  of  a  person 
who  was  often  retired  and  on  his  knees, 
was  remarkable  for  his  frequency  and  fer- 
vency in  devotion  ;  being  asked  the  rea^on 
of  this  so  singula!"  a  behaviour,  he  replied, 
Because  I  am  sensible  I  must  die.  I  as- 
sure you,  dear  Mr.  ,  I  feel  the  weight 

of  this  answer,  I  see  the  wisdom  of  this 
procedure  ;  and,  was  my  span  to  be  length- 
ened, would  endeavour  always  to  remember 
the  one,  and  daily  to  imitate  the  other. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


I  tliiiik  also  we  fail  in  our  duty,  and 
tli\A'art  our  coniioit,  by  stud}'!!!;,'  (iod's  hoi}' 
void  no  more.  I  Lave,  tor  my  yuirt,  been 
too  foiid  of  reading  every  thing  ilcjzant  and 
valuable  that  has  been  penned  in  our  own 
language ;  and  been  ])articularly  charmed 
with  the  historians,  orators,  and  poets  of 
antiquity.  But  was  I  to  renew  my  studies, 
I  would  take  my  leave  of  those  accomplish- 
ed triiles.  I  would  resign  the  delijxhts  of 
modern  wit,  amusement,  and  elocjuence, 
and  devote  my  attention  to  the  Scri]ilures 
of  truth.  I  would  sit  with  much  greater 
assiduity  at  my  divine  ^Master's  feet,  and 
desire  to  know  nothing  but  Jesus  Christ 
and  him  crucified.  This  wisdom,  whose 
fruits  are  peace  in  life,  consolation  in  death, 

and  everlasting  salvation  after  death  ;  this ;  notice  of  any  mean  endeavours  to   honour 
1  would  trace,  this    I  would  seek,  this  I '  his  holy  name,  it  will  be  iniinite  condescen- 


705 

garment,  and  your  righteousness,  what  are 
they  before  the  pure  law  and  j)iercing  eye 
of  (iod,  but  filthy  i^'s's  ?  These  I  renounce, 
and  seek  to  be  found  in  Clhrist  Jesus,  who 
is  the  Lord  !ny  righteousness.  It  is  written 
in  the  word  that  he  is  to  judge  the  world  at 
the  last  day.  By  his  obedience  shall  many 
be  made  righteous. 

So  that  Jesus,  the  dear  and  adorable 
Jesus,  is  all  my  trust.  His  merits  are  my 
staff,  when  I  pass  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death.  His  merits  are  my  an- 
chor, when  I  launch  into  the  boundless 
ocean  of  eternity.  His  merits  are  the  only 
riches  which  my  poor  soul,  when  stript  of 
its  body,  desires  to  carry  into  the  invisible 
world.     If  the  God  of  glory  pleases  to  take 


would  explore,  through  the  spacious  and 
delightful  fields  of  the  Old  and  Kew  Tes- 
tament. In  short,  I  would  adojit  the  apos- 
tle's resolution.  Acts  vi.  4,  and  give  myself 
to  prayer,  and  to  the  word. 

With  regard  to  my  public  ministry,  my 
chief  aim  should  be,  to  beget  in  my  people's 
minds  a  deep  sense  of  their  depraved,  guilty, 
undone  condition  ;  and  a  clear  believing 
conviction  of  the  all-sulHciency  of  Christ, 
by  his  blood,  his  righteousness,  his  inter- 
cession, and  hi.s  Spirit,  to  save  them  to  the 
uttermost.  I  would  always  observe  to  la- 
bour for  them  in  my  closet,  as  well  as  in 
the  pulpit;  and  wrestle  in  secret  supplica- 
tion, as  well  as  to  exert  myself  in  public 
preaching,  for  their  spiritual  and  eternal 
welfare.  I- "or  unless  God  take  this  work 
into  his  own  hand,  what  mortal  is  sufhcieiit 
for  these  things  ? 

IS'ow,  perhaps,  if  you  sat  at  my  right 
hand,  you  would  ask,  What  is  my  hope  with 
regard  to  my  future  and  immortal  state  ? 
Truly  my  hope,  my  whole  hope,  is  even  in 
the  Lord  Redeemer.  Should  the  king  of 
terrors  threaten — I  fly  to  the  wounds  of  the 
slaughtered  Lamb,  as  the  trembling  dove  to 
the  clefts  of  the  rock.  Should  Satan  accuse 
— I  plead  the  Surety  of  the  coveiuint,  who 
took  my  guilt  upon  himself,  and  bore  my 
sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree.  Should 
the  law  denounce  a  curse — 1  appeal  to  him 
who  hung  on  the  accursed  tree,  on  ])urpose 
that  all  the  nations  of  the  e:irth  inigjit  he 
blessed.  Should  hell  open  its  jaws,  and  de- 
mand its  prey — 1  look  up  to  that  gracious 
Being  who  says.  Deliver  him  from  going 
down  into  the  pit,  tor  I  have  found  a  ran- 
som. Should  it  be  said.  No  unclean  thing 
can  enter  into  heaven  ;  my  answer  is, — 
The  blood  of  (  lirist  cltanseth  from  all 
sin  :  though  my  sins  be  as  scarlet,  tlirough 
his  bloo:i  they  shad  be  as  white  as  snow. 
Should  it  be  added,  IS'one  can  sit  down  at 
the  supper  of  the  Lamb  without  a  wediling- 


sion  and  grace ;  but  his  Son,  his  righteous 
and  suffering  Son,  is  all  my  hope,  and  all 
my  salvation.  Dear  sir,  jjray  for  nie,  that 
the  weaker  1  grow  in  body,  the  stronger  I 
may  become  in  this  precious  faith.  May 
the  choicest  blessings  attend  you  and  yours  ! 
A  letter  would  revive  yours,  &e. 

P.S — Though  the  days  are  come  upon 
me,  in  which  I  have  reason  to  say  of  v.orJd- 
ly  things,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them  ;  yet 
1  find  a  secret  satisfiiction  in  this  considera- 
tion, that  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  and  to 
others  of  my  candid  acquaintance,  I  may  be 
permitted,  even  when  dead,  to  speak  in  my 
little  treatises.  May  they,  when  the  author 
is  gone  hence,  never  to  be  seen  in  these 
regions  below,  O  may  they  testify,  with 
some  small  degree  of  efficacy,  concerning 
Jesus,  that  Just  One !  may  they  fan  the 
flame  of  love  to  his  person,  and  strengthen 
the  principle  of  faith  in  his  merits  !  Once 
more,  dear  sir,  adieu. 


LETTER  XLL 

Westnn-Favell,  Av(j.  22,  1747. 
Dear  Sir, — Having  read  Dr.  Middle- 
ton's  introductory  discourse,  I  hardly  know 
what  to  thi!ik  of  his  bold  assertion.  That 
all  the  miracles  supjjosed  to  lie  wrought  af- 
ter the  apostolic  age,  are  ai)surd  and  ficti- 
tious. I  must  su'-pend  my  ()[)iiiion  con- 
ceridng  this  point,  till  I  find  it  either  eon- 
firmed  by  the  silence,  or  confuted  by  the 
arguments  of  the  advocates  for  ecclesiastical 
antiquity.  In  the  main,  I  approve  of  his 
design,  which  is  to  settle  the  ])roo('s  of  our 
holy  religion  on  the  basis  of  the  insjjired 
writings,  and  to  deduce  its  dectrincs  from 
the  same  sacred  source.       The   Scriptures, 

as  our  fiiend    H beautifully   expressi-s 

himself,    are  the    arniomy    of    Ciod,    ficiii 
whence  we  may  draw  weapons  of  a  divine 


796  A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS 

temper,  wherewith  to  engage  all  that  oppose 
the  truth,  or  hold  the  same  iti  unrighteous- 
ness. 

Does  not  this  ingenious  writer  bear  a 
little  too  hard  upon  the  religious  character 
and  exemplary  behaviour  of  the  primitive 
fathers?  I  cannot  but  think  they  had,  at 
least  in  this  respect,  a  very  evident  super- 
iority over  most  of  their  successors.  How 
flowing,  perspicuous,  and  elegant  is  the 
Doctor's  style ;  and  how  stiff,  obscure,  and 
bombast,  the  language  of  the  archdeacon  ! 
I  dare  say  you  could  not  forbear  smiling  at 
his — blazing  out  most  fastidious  hypercri- 
tics  ;  reproaching,  (not  virulently,  but) 
tiirtly  ;  lashing,  (not  severely,  but)  supei'cil- 
iously ;  and  penetrating  the  very  vitals  of 
the  dead  lant,'uages. 

If  your  Matho  is  not  lent  out  of  town,  I 
wish  yuu  would  be  so  good  as  to  send  for 
it,  and  favour  me  with  a  sight  of  it  by  the 
bearer.  The  reason  of  my  requesting  this 
is,   that  Mr.  informs    me    by    my 


brother,  if  he  has  not  the  last  piece  by  the 
middle  of  next  week,  his  press  must  stand 
still.  And  methinks  I  would  gladly  peruse 
Matho  before  I  suffer  my  last  essay  to  de- 
part. When  can  you  afford  me  your  con- 
ver>ation  for  an  hour  or   two,  in  order  to 

examine  Mr.  's  remarks,  and    bestow 

the  finishing  touches  on  the  piece  ?  Shall  I 
Mait  upon  you  on  Monday  morning  early  ? 
When  this  business  is  despatched,  your 
book,  and  my  thanks,  shall  be  returned  to- 
gether.— Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  XLIL 

Weston- Favell,  Oct.  31,  1747. 

Dear  Sir, — With  thanks  1  return  Col- 
onel Gardiner's  life.  The  worthy  author 
has  presented  me  with  a  copy,  which  I  hope 
will  serve  to  humble  and  animate  me  so 
long  as  I  live. 

Abernethy  on  the  Divine  Attributes,  I 
will  soon  restore.  In  the  mean  time,  shall 
I  beg  the  favour  of  borrowing  Pliny's  Na- 
tural History  ? 

Yon  may  remember  who  is  to  call  upon 
you  ('Deo  volentej  on  Monday  morning.  I 
must  devote  the  greatest  part  of  this  day 
to  prepare  my  translatory  quota  of  Dick- 
.son's  Thereapeutica  Sacra.  The  thoughts 
of  our  little  society  bring  to  my  mind  a 
])leasing  circumstance,  which  I  observed 
when  we  were  at  our  last   interview.      My 

very    valuable    fiiend    Dr.    S told    a 

story,  in  which  he  had  occasion  to  refer  to 
some  profane  and  execrable  language.  In- 
stead of  defiling  his  lips  with  a  repetition  of 
the  hellish  jargon,  he  was  so  truly  discreet 
as  only  to  mention  it  under  the  general  ti- 
tle of  horrid  oaths.     A  delicacy  this,  which 


I  thought  highly  becoming  both  the  Chris- 
tian and  the  gentleman.  1  have  sometimes 
taken  the  freedom  to  observe,  in  the  most 
respectful  manner,  upon  some  little  inad- 
vertances  in  my  worthy  friend's  conduct  ; 
but  now  it  is  with  the  highest  pleasure  that 
I  congratulate  him  upon  a  most  amiable 
piece  of  religious  decorum  introduced  into 
his  discourse. — I  am  &c. 


LETTER  XLIir. 


Weston. Fa?jell,  Dec  2,  1 747. 
Dear  Sir, —  The  surprise  which  your 
letter  gives  me  is  inexpressible,  and  the 
grief  equal.  I  will  hasten  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble to  my  worthy  and  afflicted  friend.  O 
that  I  could  bring  with  me  some  healing 
baiin  for  his  wounded  heart  !  It  would  be 
no  small  alleviation  of  my  own  sorrows,  if  I 
might  be  instrumental  to  make  his  less.  A 
long  continued  cold,  and  an  unexpected 
journey,  have  unfitted  me  from  following 
your  prescriptions.  1  am  obliged  to  your 
candour  for  ascribing  my  neglect  to  this 
cause,  and  not  to  any  disregard  of  your  ad- 
vice ;  for  I  am  persuaded, 

Si  qua  potuissent  Pergama  dextra 

Defendi,  etiam  hac  defensa  fuissent. 

I  will  Stay  the  messenger  no  longer ;  and 
I  hope  I  shall  not  stay  long  before  I  set  out 
myself.  It  is  owing  wholly  to  an  accident 
that  I  do  not  accompany  the  bearer,  with  a 
view  and  a  hope  of  administering  some  con- 
solation to  Dr.  S .     I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XLIV. 

Northampton,  Dec.  5,  1747. 
Dear  and  worthy  Sir,-^ You  will  won- 
der to  see  a  name  which  you  have  but  late- 
ly known  at  the  bottom  of  this  paper.  But 
how,  how  will  you  be  surprised,  how  griev- 
ed, to  read  the  occasion  !  It  is  so  afflicting, 
almost  so  insupportable  to  our  valuable 
friend,  that  he  is  unable  to  give  you  the 
narrative  ;  therefore  has  committed  the  of- 
fice (triste  ministcrium  !)  to  my  pen.  And 
must  I  tell  you  ?  can  you  bear  to  hear  it? 
Mrs.  S is  dead  ;  that  amiable  and  ex- 
cellent lady  is  dead.  She  was  safely  deli- 
vered of  a  daughter  the   very  day  on  which 

Dr.  S wrote  to  you  last ;  was  as  well 

as  could  be  expected  or  wished  on  Sunday 
morning ;  and  departed  this  life  on  Tues- 
day evening.  On  Sunday  in  the  evening 
our  common  friend  perceived  her  to  be  at- 
tended with  some  alarming,  and,  as  he  ap- 
prehended, fatal    symptoms.       Dr.    K 

was  immediately  sent  for,  who  gave  some 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


797 


encourai?ement.       On   Monday   came    Dr.  |      I  shall  return  all   your  books  by  the  first 

opportunity,  only  the  first  volume  of  the 
History  of  the  Bible,  I  beg  to  keep  a  little 
longer.  The  13ihle  I  intend,  for  the  future, 
to  make  the  principal  object  of  my  study. 
Thiit  l)eautiful  and  important  exhortation 
shall  be  my  ruling  directory,  O  Xoyos  th  Xcjr* 

Perhaps  !Jr.  W 11  will  be  so  obliging 

as  to  answer  my  letter.  And  if  so,  I  think 
it  will   be  proper  to  defer  writing  to  Mr. 

R n,   and  sending   the  draught,    till    I 

hear  the  Doctor's  sentiments.  I  beg  of 
you  to  accept  the  cordial  compliments,  as 
you  have  always  the  best  wishes,  and  fre- 
quently the  earnest  prayers  of,  dear  Sir, 
yours,  &c. 


J throut?h  a  very  deep   snow,  and  most 

terrible  weather,  but  urged  by  friendship  and 
comjiassion.  The  moment  that  sagacious 
practitioner  beheld  her,   he  confirmed    Dr. 

S 's  first  sentiments,  that  the  case  was 

irrecoverable  :  and  added,  that  the  great 
change  was  at  the  very  door,  and  would  pro- 
bably take  place  in  twenfy-four  hours,  which 
came  to  pass  accordingly. 

Your  own  tender  and  sensible  heart  will 

naturally  conclude  Dr.  S is  so  oppressed 

with  soiTow,  as  not  to  be  capable,  at  pre- 
sent, of  answering  his  most  valued  corres- 
pondents : 

Curfe  leves  loquuntur,  iiigentes  stupent. 
But  he  intends,  when  time  has  somewhat  al- 
leviated his  grief,  and  religion  has  more  re- 
conciled him  to  the  awful  dispensation,  to 
make  a  particular  reply  to  the  whole  of  your 
epistolary  favour.  You  will,  I  do  not  ques- 
tion, recommend  our  distressed  friend  to  tlie 
Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  com- 
fort. May  we  all  lay  this  awakening  stroke 
of  Providence  to  heart,  and  give  all  diligence 
to  have  our  sins  fiardoned  through  redeem- 
ing blood,  our  souls  renewed  by  sanctifying 
grace  ;  that  whether  we  live,  we  may  live 
itnto  the  l^ord  ;  or  whether  we  die,  we  may 
die  unto  the  Lord  ;  so  that  living  or  dying 
we  may  be  the  Lord's. 

The  second  edition  of  my  Meditations, 
with  the  addition  of  another  volume,  is  at 
last  published.  I  have  given  directions 
to  my  bookseller  to  send  you  a  copy  ;  and 
beg  of  you  to  accept  it  as  a  small,  but  the 
most  speiiking  and  eloquent  expression  I  am 
able  to  forin,  of  that  great,  that  growing  es- 
teem I  have  conceived  for  Dr.  Swan,  ever 
since  our  first  interview  at  Weston.  Be 
pleased  dear  sir,  to  read  it  with  the  utmost, 
or  rather  with  your  own  candour  ;  and  some- 
times dart  up  a  short  jietition  for  the  author, 
that,  whatever  is  the  fate  of  his  book,  him- 
jielf  may  live  over  his  vn-itings,  and  be  what 
he  describes. — I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XLV. 

Weston-FavcU,  1  747. 

Df.ar  Sin, — Mr.    H delivered  your 

message.  Upon  a  repeated  perusal  of  your 
Rules  and  Orders,  I  find  nothing  to  add, 
nor  any  thing  to  alter.  I  think  it  is  a  finely 
CHlculated  scheme,  and  seems  very  likely  to 
be  productive  of  considerable  good. 

When  the  disciples  were  together,  after 
their  Master's  resurrection,  they  had  the 
honour,  the  comfort,  and  advantage  of  bis 
divine  presence.  And  why  may  not  we, 
when  associated  on  such  a  plan,  and  con- 
versing with  such  views,  reasonably  hope  for 
the  same  blessing? 


LETTER  XLVL 

Weston- Faiyell,  Dec-  1'2,  1747. 

Dear  Siii, — This,  1  hope,  will  find  you 
perfectly  recovered  from  your  indisposition, 
and  thoroughly  reconciled  to  Ciod's  holy 
will.  Afflictions,  when  sanctified,  are  real 
blessings  ;  they  work  humility,  and  wean 
from  the  world ;  they  teach  us  to  pour  out, 
not  our  words  only,  but  our  very  souls,  be- 
fore God  in  prayer ;  and  create  an  ardent 
desire  after  that  inheritance  in  heaven, 
which  is  incorruptible  and  immortal ;  after 
those  mansions  of  peace,  where  soitow  and 
sighing  flee  away.  May  this  be  the  effect 
of  that  awful  stroke  which  has  made  so  de- 
plorable a  breach  on  my  friend's  domestic 
comfort. 

Next  week  Abernethy  will  return  to  your 
study  ;  and  I  ordy  wish  that  he  might  bring 
with  him  a  little  more  of  the  everlasting  and 
glorious  gospel.  With  my  compliments  to 
Mrs.  ,  I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  XLVIL 

Western,  Dec.  1 747. 
Dear  Sir, — I  truly  commiserate  your 
variegated  calamity  ;  and  heartily  wish  I 
could  suggest  any  thing  which  might  be  the 
means  of  administering  some  ea^e  to  your 
afflicted  mind,  and  of  assisting  you  to  reap 
ample  benefit  from  your  distressing  situa- 
tion. 

You  well  know  that  all  afflictions,  of 
what  kind  sover,  jiroceed  from  God  :  I 
form  the  light,  and  create  darkness  ;  I  make 
peace,  and  create  evil ;  I  the  Lord  do  all 
these  things,  Isaiah  xlv.  7.  They  spring 
not  from  the  dust ;  are  not  the  effects  of  a 
random  chance,  but  the  appointment  of  an 
nil-wise,  all-foreseeing  God,  who  intends 
them  all  for  the  good  of  his  creatures.  This, 


793 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


I  think,  is  the  fundainentul  arguiiient  for 
resignation,  and  the  grand  source  of  com- 
fort. This  should  be  our  first  reflection, 
and  our  sovereign  support.  He  that  gave 
me  my  being,  and  gave  his  own  Son  for  my 
redemption,  he  has  assigned  me  this  suCer- 
ing.  What  he  ordains,  who  is  boundless 
love,  must  be  good  ;  what  he  ordains,  who 
is  unerring  wisdom,  must  be  proper. 

This  reconciled  Eli  to  the  severest  doom 
that  ever  was  denounced  ;  It  is  the  Lord  ! 
and  though  grievous  to  human  nature,  much 
more  grievous  to  parental  affection,  yet  it  is 
unquestionably  the  best;  therefore,  I  hum- 
bly acquiesce,  I  kiss  the  awful  decree,  and 
say  from  my  very  soul,  let  him  do  what 
seemelh  him  good,  I  Sam.  iii.  18. 

This  calmed  the  sorrows  of  Job  under 
all  his  uiijjaiHileled  distresses  :  The  Lord 
gave  me  affluence  and  prosperity  ;  the  Lord 
has  taken  all  away :  rapacious  hands  and 
warring  elements  were  only  his  instruments ; 
therefore  I  submit,  I  adore,  I  bless  his  holy 
name. 

This  consolation  fortified  the  m.nn  Christ 
Jesus  at  the  aiiproach  of  his  inconceivably 
bitter  agonies  :  The  cup  which,  not  my 
implacable  enemies,  but  my  Father,  by  their 
administration,  has  given  me,  shall  I  not 
drink  it  ?  It  is  your  Father,  dear  sir,  your 
heavenly  Father,  who  loves  you  with  an 
everlasting  love,  that  has  mingled  some  gall 
with  your  portion  in  life.  Sensible  of  the 
beneficent  hand  from  which  the  visitation 
comes,  may  you  always  bow  your  head  in 
patient  submission  ;  and  acknowledge,  with 
the  excellent  but  afflicted  monarch  Heze- 
kiah,  Good  is  the  word  of  the  Lord  con- 
cerning me,  2  Kings  xx-  19. 

All  afflictions  are  designed  for  blessings  ; 
to  do  us  good  at  the  latter  end,  however 
they  n)ay  cross  our  desires,  or  disquiet  our 
minds  at  present.  Happy  (says  the  Spirit 
of  inspiration,  and  not  wretched)  is  the 
man  whom  God  correcteth,  Job  v.  17; 
and  for  this  reason,  because  his  merciful 
chastenings,  though  not  joyous  but  grievous, 
yield  the  peaceable,  fruit  of  righteousness 
unto  them  that  are  exercised  thereby,  Heb. 
xii.  IL  God's  ways  are  not  as  our  ways. 
'J"he  children  whom  we  love  we  are  apt  to 
treat  with  all  the  soft  blandishments  and 
fond  caresses  of  profuse  indulgence  ;  and 
too,  too  often  cocker  them  to  iheir  hurt,  if 
not  to  iheir  ruin.  But  the  Father  of  spirits 
is  wise  iii  his  love,  and  out  of  kindness  severe. 
Therefore  it  is  said,  Whom  he  loveth  he 
chasteneth,  and  sconrgeth  every  son  whom 
he  receiveth,  Heb.  xii.  6.  Would  you  not, 
dear  sir,  be  a  child  of  ih.it  everlasting  Fa- 
ther, whose  favour  is  better  than  life  ? 
Affliction  is  one  sign  of  your  adoption  to 
this  inestimable  relation.  Would  you  not 
be  an  '■  heir  of  the  inheritance  incorru])ti- 
ble,  undefiled,  and  that  fadtth  not  away?" 


Affliction  is  your  path  to  this  blissful  pat- 
rimony. 1  hrough  much  tribulation  we 
must  enter  iiito  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Acts  xiv.  22.  Would  you  not  be  made 
like  your  ever- blessed  and  amiable  Kedeem- 
er  ?  He  was  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  ac- 
quainted with  grief;  and  every  disciple 
must  expect  to  be  as  his  master. 

Perhaps  you  may  think  your  affliction 
peculiarly  calamitous  ;  and  that,  if  it  had 
been  of  some  other  kind,  you  could  more 
cheerfully  snlniiit,  more  easily  bear  it.  But 
you  are  in  the  hands  of  an  all-wise  Physi- 
cian, who  joins  to  the  bowels  of  infinite 
love  the  discernment  of  infinite  wisdom. 
He  cannot  mistake  yom*  case.  He  sees 
into  the  remotest  events  ;  and,  though  he 
varies  his  remedies,  always  prescribes  with 
the  exactest  propriety  to  every  one's  parti- 
cular state.  Assure  yourself,  therefore,  the 
visitation  which  he  appoints  is  the  very 
properest  recipe  in  the  dispensatoiy  of  hea- 
ven. Any  other  would  have  been  less  fit 
to  convey  saving  health  to  your  immorta. 
part,  and  less  subservient  to  your  enjoyment 
of  the  temporal  blessings  which  may,  per- 
haps, be  yet  in  store  for  you. 

Sho'dd  you  inquire  what  benefits  accrue 
from  afflictions  ?  Many  and  precious.  They 
tend  to  wean  us  from  the  world.  When 
our  paths  are  strewed  with  roses,  when  no- 
thing but  music  and  odours  float  around, 
how  apt  are  we  to  be  enamoured  with  our 
present  condition,  and  forget  the  crown  of 
glory,  forget  Jesus  and  everlasting  ages  ? 
But  affliction,  with  a  faithful  though  harsh 
voice,  rouses  us  from  the  sweet  delusion. 
Affliction  warns  our  hearts  to  rise  and  de- 
part from  these  inferior  delights,  because 
here  is  not  our  rest.  True  and  lasting  joys 
are  not  here  to  be  found.  The  sweeping 
tempest,  and  the  beating  surge,  teach  the 
mariner  to  prize  the  haven,  where  undis- 
turbed repose  waits  his  arrival.  In  like 
manner,  disappointments,  vexations,  anxie- 
ties, crosses,  teach  us  to  long  for  those 
happy  mansions,  where  all  tears  will  be 
wiped  away  from  the  eyes.  Rev.  xxi.  4  ;  all 
anguish  banished  from  the  mind  ;  and  no- 
thing, nothing  subsist,  but  the  fulness  of 
joy,  and  pleasures  for  evermore. 

Afflictions  tend  to  bring  us  to  Christ. 
Christ  has  unspeiikable  and  everlasting 
blessings  to  bestow :  such  as  the  world  can 
neither  give  nor  take  away ;  such  as  ai'e 
sufficient  to  pour  that  oil  of  gladness  into 
our  souls,  which  will  swim  above  the  waves 
of  any  earthly  tribulation.  But  are  we  not, 
dear  sir,  are  we  not  most  unhappily  indol- 
ent and  inattentive  to  these  blessings,  in 
the  gay  hours  of  an  uninterrupted  prosperi- 
ty ?  It  is  very  observable,  that  scarce  any 
made  application  to  our  divine  Redeemer, 
in  the  days  of  his  abode  with  us,  but  the 
children  of  affliction.     The  same  spirit  of 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


7.99 


mpineness  still  possesses  mankind.  We 
imdervaJue,  we  disregard  thtJ  Lord  Jesus, 
aiul  the  unspeakable  priviiei^es  of  his  gos- 
pel, while  all  prooeeds  smoothly,  and  nothing 
oceiirs  to  discompose  the  tenor  of  our  tran- 
quillity. Jiut  wheji  misfortinies  harass  our 
circuinstajices,  or  sorrows  oppress  our 
minds  ;  then  we  iu-e  willing,  we  are  glad, 
we  iue  earnest,  to  find  rest  in  Ciuist. 

In  Christ  Jesus  there  is  pardon  of  sins. 
Si.i  is  a  burden,  incomparably  sorer  than 
a)iy  other  distress.  Sin  would  sink  us  into 
the  depths  of  eternal  ruin,  and  ti  ansfix  us 
with  the  agonies  of  endless  desjtair.  Eut 
(/lirist  has,  at  the  price  of  his  very  life,  pur- 
eJiascd  pardon  for  all  that  fly  to  him.  He 
has  borne  the  guiit  of  their  sins  in  his  osvn 
body  on  the  tree,  1  Pet.  ii.  '21.  Have  they 
deserved  condemnation  ?  He  has  susiain- 
eil  it  in  their  stead.  Are  they  obnoxious 
to  the  wrath  of  God  ?  He  has  endured  it 
as  their  substitute  ;  he  has  made  satisfac- 
tion, complete  satisfaction  for  all  their  ini- 
quities, Rom.  iii.  25,  2(5.  So  that  justice 
itself,  the  most  rigorous  justice,  can  demand 
no  more.  O  that  distresses  may  prompt 
us  to  prize  this  mercy!  may  incite  us  to 
desire  ardently  this  blessedness  !  then  it 
will  be  good  for  us  to  have  been  alllicted. 
Psalm  cxix.  71. 

Christ  has  obtained  for  us  the  gift  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  (Gal.  iii.  2.)  to  sanctify  our 
hearts,  and  renew  our  natures.  An  unre- 
newed carnal  mind,  is  ten  thousand  times 
more  to  be  lamented,  more  to  be  dreaded, 
than  any  external  calamities.  And  nothing 
can  cure  us  of  this  most  deadly  disease  but 
the  sanctification  of  the  Spirit.  The  divine 
Spirit  alone  is  able  to  f)ut  the  fear  of  God 
in  our  souls,  and  awaken  the  love  of  God 
in  our  hearts,  Jer.  xxxii.  40.  His  influences 
suggest  such  awful  and  amiable  thoughts  to 
oui-  minds,  as  will  be  productive  of  these 
Christian  graces.  This  sacred  principle 
subdues  our  corruptions,  ami  conforms  us 
to  our  blessed  Redeemer's  image.  How  is 
this  best  gift  of  Heaven  disesteemed  by  the 
darlings  of  the  world,  who  have  nothing  to 
vex  them  ?  But  iiow  precious  is  it,  how 
desirable,  to  tJie  heirs  of  sorrow  ?  They 
breathe  after  it,  as  the  thirsty  hart  panteth 
for  the  water  brooks.  They  cannot  be 
satisfied  without  its  enlightening,  purifying, 
cheering  communications.  This  is  all  their 
request,  and  all  their  relief,  "  that  the  sjjirit 
of  Christ  may  dwell  in  their  hearts,"  Rom. 
viii.  9  ;  may  enable  them  to  possess  their 
souls  in  patience,  Luke  xxi.  li),  and  derive 
never-ending  good  from  momentary  evils. 
Before  I  close  these  lines,  jiermit  me  to  re- 
commend one  expedient,  which  yet  is  not 
mine,  but  the  advice  of  an  inspired  apostle. 
If  any  be  afllicted,  let  him  pray.  Dear  sir, 
fly  to  God  in  all  your  adversity,  pour  out 
your  complaints  before  him  in  humble  sup- 


plication, and  show  him  your  trouble,  Psalm 
cxlii.  2.  When  I  am  in  heaviness,  nays  a 
holy  sufferer,  I  will  think  uj  on  God,  Psalm 
Ixi.  2. — ijs  omnipotent  jjower,  his  unbound- 
ed goodnes':,  whose  ear  is  ever  open  to  re- 
ceive the  cry  of  the  afllicted.  When  the 
psalmist  was  distressed  on  every  side,  with- 
out were  fightings,  withni  were  fears,  the 
throne  of  grace  was  the  place  (;f  his  refuge  ; 
I  give  myself  to  prayer.  Psalm  cix.  3,  "as 
his  declaration.  This  method,  we  read, 
HaiHiah  todk,  and  you  cannot  I'Ut  remem- 
ber the  happy  issue,  1  Sam.  i.  10.  Let  me 
entreat  you  tonnitate  these  excellent  exam- 
ples ;  frequently  bend  y^ur  knees,  and 
more  frequently  life  up  your  heart  to  the 
Father  of  mercies,  and  God  of  all  consola- 
tion ;  not  doubting,  but  that  through  the 
merits  of  his  dear  Son,  thryu;ih  the  inter- 
cession of  your  compassionate  High-priest, 
he  will  hear  your  jietitions,  will  con:fort  you 
under  all  your  triliulations,  and  make  them 
all  work  together  for  your  infinite  and  eter- 
nal good. 


In  the  mean  time,  I  shall  not  cease  to 
pray,  that  the  God  of  all  power  and  grace 
may  vouchsafe  to  bless  these  considera- 
TJONS,  and  render  them  as  balm  to  your 
aching  heart,  ami  as  food  to  the  divine  life 
in  your  mind.  I  am,  dear  sir,  with  much 
esteem,  compassion,  and  respect,  your  very 
sincere  well-wisher,  &c. 


LETTER  XLVin. 

Wesfon-Favtll,  Dec.  5,  174.7. 
My  dear  Friend, —  I  assure  you  I 
am  extremely  concerned  for  the  death  of 
your  most  excellent  wife,  as  indeed  I 
think  she  has  left  few  equals  behind  her  : 
•'  Take  her  all  in  all,  I  shall  never  see  her 
like  again."*  But,  my  dear  friend,  you 
must  not  give  way  to  excessive  sorrow. 
All  proper  allowances  I  tenderly  do  and 
ought  to  make,  as  such  will  be  made  both 
by  God  and  man  ;  but  yet  oiu-  sorrows 
must  not  be  immoderate,  or  inconsistent 
with  the  will  of  God,  and  resignation  to 
his  providence.  Give  me  leave  to  present 
you  with,  and  recommend  to  you,  on  this 
melancholy  occasion,  a  repeated  perusal  of 
Dr.  Grosvenor's  Mourner,  or  the  Afflicted 
Relieved.  It  is  a  most  valuable  gem  ;  and 
as  it  is  wrote  in  numbers  like  the  Sjjccta- 
tors,  it  will  not  weary  yoiu- attention.  lam 
siue  you  stand  in  need  of  the  consolations 
and  helps  there  suggested.  I  am  never 
without  some  of  these  little  books  to  give 
away  to  my  acquaintance  under  affliction, 
especially  for  the  loss  of  dear  relations  or 

*  Shakspearc'n  llamltt. 


soo 

valuable  friends.  I  think  it,  fuv  these  pur- 
pose's, one  of  the  most  juditiioiis  and  uni- 
vtrisiiily  useful  books  extant :  and  it  well 
deserves  to  be  translated  into  the  huigunge 
of  every  nation  whtre  ChristianJty  is  pro- 
fessed. 

Do  not  you  often  recollect,  in  f'lis  sea- 
son of  distress,  the  discourse,  the  prnyers, 
the  amiable,  the  rejoicing,  and  the  heavenly 
spirit  of  our  dear  friend,  who  was  with  us 
last  month  ?  J3!essed  be  God  for  making 
him  such  a  lovely  example,  and  such  a  zeal- 
ous promoter  of  pure  and  undefiled  reli- 
gion !  Blessed  be  God  for  promising  us 
the  same  Divine  Spirit ;  and  giving  us  the 
same  glorious  hopes,  which  have  had  such 
a  quickening  and  ennobling  influence  on  his 
heart !  The  rich  goodness  of  the  Lord 
exercised  to  others,  should  encourage  our 
expectations,  should  strengthen  our  faith. 
Let  it  then,  let  it  be  so.  Adieu,  my  dear 
friend !  I  will  come  to  you  again  very  soon. 
In  the  mean  time,  I  shall  not  cease  to  pray 
for  you  ;  as  I  am,  with  great  compassion 
and  great  esteem,  most  tenderly,  most  sin- 
cerely yours,  &c. 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


LETTER  XLIX. 

Weston- FaveH,  Jan.  12,  1748. 

Mv  DEAR  Friend, —  Loth  to  make  your 
servant  stay,  and  loth  to  trespass  too  much 
upon  the  patience  of  our  family  who  wait 
for  me,  I  write  in  the  utmost  hurry.  After 
so  great  an  opinion  as  that  of  the  judicious 
Dr.  ,  I  hardly  dare  venture  to  deli- 
ver my  sentiments;  yet  I  must  confess 
myself  strongly  inclined  to  prefer  your  in- 
tended motto. 

Is  it  a  vulgarism  ?  Rather  the  simplici- 
ty of  the  gospel  ;  accommodated  to  the 
lowest  capacity,  suited  to  strike  ordinary 
readers  ;  who  are  the  persons  most  likely 
to  be  impressed.  Or,  if  it  is  a  vulgarism, 
let  this  be  for  the  illiterate,  the  poetry  for 
the  polite. 

Is  it  Puritanical?  Be  not  ashamed  of  the 
name.  They  (the  Puritans)  were  the 
soundest  preachers,  and  I  believe  the  truest 
followers  of  Jesus  Christ.  If  such  an  im- 
putation is  a  bugbear,  we  shall  not  act  like 
gallant  soldiers  of  Christ.  Ls  it  not  the 
most  im])ortant  truth  in  the  whole  book  of 
God  ?  the  surest,  easiest,  most  compendious 
means  of  overcoming  the  dread  of  death  ? 
If  so,  I  Tieed  not  make  the  conclusion. 

Will  censure  ensue  ?  Dear  sir,  dread  it 
not.  lie  bold  for  once  to  despise  ridicule  ; 
or  rather,  if  it  must  needs  fall  upon  you,  to 
glory  in  this  :   Dedccits  baud  indecorum. 

Pardon  my  freedom.  Only  just  think 
on  my  reasons.  Reject  them,  and  welcome. 


I  shall  be  glad  to  be  overruled    for  the  bet- 
ter— Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  L. 

Weston-Favdl,  Feb.  4.  1 718. 
Dear  Siu, —  I  sincerely   thank    you  for 
taking  the  trouble  of  correcting  my  maj  ks 
for  Italics.      I  am   glad   you  did   not  erase 

Mrs.  S 's  name.     I  assure  you,  Doctor, 

I  shall  always  esteem  it  a  real  lionour  to  be 
reckoned  in  the  number  of  your  friends  ; 
and  shall  look  upon  it  as  one  of  the  satis- 
factions accruing  from  my  book,  that  it  tells 
it  in  so  pertinent  a  maimer  to  the  world  ; 
though,  with  regard  to  your  truly  amiable 
deceased  lady,  1  fear  it  will  be  an  instance 
of  the  tu'rogance  of  my  heart,  and  a  rcpioach 
upon  the  impotence  of  my  pen,  or  else  I 
would  say, 

Si  quid  mea  scriptula  possunt. 

Nulla  dies  unquam  memori  lUam  exiniet  aevo. 

Yours,  &C. 


LETTER  LL 

Weston-FaveE,  March  1748. 

Dear  Sir, — I  am  very  much  obliged  for 
the  present  of  your  franks  ;  they  could 
never  be  more  wanted,  or  more  welcome. 
If  you  have  not  so  much  as  you  wish,  to 
relieve  the  necessities  of  the  poor,  distri- 
bute from  my  stock.  I  am  cloistered  up 
in  my  chamber,  and  unacquainted  with  the 
distresses  of  my  brethren.  Lend  me  there- 
fore your  eye  to  discover  proper  objects, 
and  your  hand  to  deal  about  my  little  fund 
for  charity.  Do  not  forbid  me  to  send  a 
guinea,  in  my  next,  for  this  purpose  ;  do 
not  deny  me  the  pleasure  of  becoming, 
through  your  means,  an  instrument  of  some 
little  comfort  to  my  afflicted  fellow-crea- 
tures ;  and  (what  is  a  far  more  endearing 
consideration)  to  the  friends,  the  brethren, 
the  members  of  him  who  died  for  my  sins. 
If  you  have  any  other  friend,  to  whose 
taste  it  may  be  agreeable,  and  in  whose 
hands  useful,  I  will  empower  you  to  make 
the  present.  Herewith  comes  the  Descant 
eidarged.  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  read 
it,  and  not  a  Httle  to  improve  it.     Can  you 

engage  Dr.  to  run  it  over  ?  to  giant 

postrenmm  hoc  munns  ? 

I  must  write  it  over  again,  so  fear  not  to 
erase  and  blot.  I  have  not  seen  where  or 
how  I  can  handsomely  introduce  that  fine 
quotation  from  Mr.  Dyer's  Kuins  of  Rome, 
but  will  still  consider  it,  because  you  desire 
it. — I  am,  dear  sir,  yours,  &c. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


801 


LETTER  LIL 

April  1748. 

Ey,  fy  upon  yoii,  dear  Dr. I  had 

been  endeavouring  all  the  day  long  to  fix 
my  iidnnration  on  that  most  exalted,  that 
most  amiable  Being,  who,  though  possessed 
of  exi-ellencies  which  the  very  angels  con- 
template with  rapture  and  adoration,  yet 
humbled  himself  to  death,  the  death  of  the 
cross,  for  my  friend  and  me  ;  when  your 
))raises,  kind  indeed,  but  alas  !  perniciously 
kind,  fetched  my  thoughts  from  their  pro- 
per element,  and  proper  object,  to  grovel 
on  a  creature,  and  that  the  meanest  of  crea- 
tures— self.  I  could  wish  myself,  on  such 
occasions,  like  the  deaf  adder,  which  stop- 
peth  her  ears,  and  refuseth  to  hear  the  voice 
of  the  charmer,  charm  he  never  so  sweetly. 
Praise  is  most  enchanting  music  to  the  hu- 
man ear;  shall  I  rather  say,  most  delicious 
poison  to  the  human  taste  ?  From  stran- 
gers, or  complimentary  correspondents,  we 
must  expect  a  touch  upon  this  string,  a 
sprinkling  of  this  spice.  But  among  friends, 
bosom  friends,  Clu'istian  friends,  it  must 
not  be  so.  You  and  1,  dear  sir,  will  teach 
one  another's  hearts  to  rise  in  wonder,  and 
glow  with  love,  at  the  consideration  of  that 
ever-blessed  sovereign,  who  is  higher  than 
the  kings  of  the  earth,  higher  than  the  po- 
tentates of  heaven,  and  yet  lay  in  darkness 
and  the  shadow  of  death,  tliat  he  might 
make  us  the  children  of  God,  and  exalt  us 
to  everlasting  life.  Pardon  my  excursions 
on  this  subject.  A  letter  from  my  father 
is  enough  to  cast  contempt  upon  created 
things.  It  informs  me  that  my  poor  sister 
is  reduced  very  low  ;  so  low,  that  my  father 
caimot  hear  her  sj)eak.  He  seems  to  look 
upon  her  life  to  be  in  very  great  danger. 
Alay  the  Father  of  compassions  restore  her 
health,  that  she  may  live  to  the  honour  of 
her  dying  Master,  and  be  a  comfort  to  her 
alliicted  parents  ! — Glad  I  am  that  my  dear 
friend  can  relish  the  writings  of  that  shin- 
ing and  burning  light  Mr. Our  dis- 

esteem  of  such  gospel  doctrines  as  he 
teaches,  generally  arises  from  ignorance  of 
ourselves.  Therefore  I  heartily  join  with 
the  Grecian  sage,  in  saying.  A"  cafo  desccn- 
dit,     I  am  atfectionately  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LIIL 

Weaton-Favell,  May  26,  174.8. 

Dear  Sik, — I  have  given  directions  to 

my  bookseller  to  present  you  with  the  new 

edition  of  my  Meditations  ;  which   I  desire 

you  lo  acct'iit,  and  to  look  upon  as  a  small 


but  unfeigned  expression  of  ray  most  aflec- 
tionate  esteem.  The  pleasure  of  your  com- 
pany I  cannot  expect  oiten  to  enjoy  ;  let 
me  therefore,  dear  sir,  by  means  of  my  little 
treatise,  converse  with  you  now  and  then, 
as  it  were  by  proxy,  with  a  view  of  famil- 
iarizing to  our  minds  those  sublime  subjects 
which  will  be  the  study  and  the  delight  of 
a  glorious  eternity. 

Another  set  I   have  sent  for  Mr, ; 

which  I  beg  of  you  to  render  accept- 
able, by  presenting.  That  worthy  min- 
ister stands  entitled  fo  my  grateful  ac- 
knowledgmwits  for  his  judicious  and  excel- 
lent letter.  His  candid  and  weighty  ob- 
servations have  induced  me  to  alter  the 
exceptionable  passage  in  the  book ;  and 
will,  I  hope,  incite  me  to  cultivate  in  my 
heart  that  amiable  spirit  of  charity  which 
hopeth  all  things. 

What  I  accidentally  hinted  to  Dr. , 

who   favoured  me  with    a    sight   of  Mrs. 

's  letter,  1  never  imagined   would  have 

been  communicated  to  her,  or  any  person 
living.  Had  1  suspected  any  such  conse- 
quence, I  should  certainly  have  withheld 
my  pen,  and  concealed  what  I  might  hap- 
pen to  think  ;  because  I  neither  relish  con- 
troversy, nor  have  strength  of  mind,  or  so- 
lidity of  judgment,  sufficient  to  conduct 
the  pr./cedure  of  an  argument.  All  my 
aim,  all  my  desire  is,  to  quicken  in  my  own 
heart  the  seeds  of  practical  faith  and  vital 
holiness.  If  to  this  I  might  be  enabled  to 
cherish  the  same  sacred  principles  in  the 
hearts  of  some  of  my  serious  and  humble 
acquaiiiiaiice,  I  sliould  wish  for  no  other 
fruits  of  my   labours.      However,  as    Mrs. 

's  objections  are  advanced,  and  are  now 

before  nie,  it  w(juld  be  a  failure  of  respect 
to  her,  and  a  desertion  of  my  divine  Mas- 
ter's honour,  if  I  did  not  attempt  at  least,  to 
satisfy  her  scruples,  and  vindicate  his  con- 
duct. 1  shall,  therefore,  with  all  freedom, 
but  with  sincere  good-will,  transmit  my  sen- 
timents <7ii  every  article  of  her  letter. 

And  fust,  with  regard  to  the  little  assis- 
tance which  I  have  contributed,  and  which 
Mrs. thinks  worthy  of  her  acknow- 
ledgments, I  beg  of  her  to  observe,  that  it 
is  owing,  wholly  owing  to  her  adored  Re- 
deemer. To  him,  to  him  alone,  she  is 
obliged  (if  there  be  an  obligation  in  the 
case)  for  this  friendly  donation.  He  has 
been  pleased  to  coniiiiand  this  instance  of 
my  gratitude,  for  his  unspeakably  lender 
mercies  to  my  soul.  He  has  been  jdeased 
to  declare,  that  he  will  look  upon  such  a 
piece  of  kindness  as  done  to  his  own  most 
blessed  Self.  This  makes  me,  this  makes 
all  believers,  glad  to  embrace  every  such 
occasion  ot  shewing  our  thankfulness  to  our 
infiniteiy    condescending,     gracious    Lord, 

The  action  which  Mrs.  's  grateful  i)en 

calls  gi'iieious,  docs  not  arise,  as  she  ex- 
3  r 


802 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


presses  it,  from  any  innate  nobleness  of 
mind.  I  remember  the  time,  when  this 
heart  was  hard  as  the  Hint,  and  these  hands 
tenacious  even  to  avarice.  But  it  is  Jesus, 
the  quickening  Spirit,  and  the  lover  of 
souls,  who  has  made  your  friend  to  differ 
from  his  natural  self.  If  the  flinty  bowels 
are  melted  into  compassion,  they  are  melted 
by  a  believing  consideration  of  his  most 
precious  blood.  If  the  avaricious  hands 
are  opened,  and  made  ready  to  distribute, 
willing  to  communicate,  they  are  made  so 
by  the  free  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Therefore  not  unto  me,  not  unto  me,  but 
nnto  the  great  and  good  Redeemer,  are  all 
the  returns  of  gratitude  due. 

"  It  is   utterly  inconsistent,"  says  Mrs. 

,  "  with  my  vvay  of  thinking,  that  the 

Son  of  God  should  be  present  at  a  wedding 
at  all."  But  why  should  it  be  thought  ut- 
terly, why  in  any  degree,  inconsistent  with 
his  dignity  or  wisdom,  to  be  present  at  the 
solemnization  of  an  ordinance  which  he 
himself  instituted ;  instituted  in  the  state 
of  innoeency  itself;  instituted,  for  promot- 
ing the  happiness  of  our  nature,  and  for 
perpetuating,  with  regularity  and  purity,  its 
very  existence  ?  If  our  Lord  opened  his 
commission,  and  shewed  his  divine  creden- 
tials at  a  bridal  festivity,  it  was,  in  my  hum- 
ble opinion,  with  a  very  peculiar  propriety  : 
Because  it  was  a  significant  intimation  of 
the  benign  and  amiable  genius  of  his  reli- 
gion, that  he  came,  not  in  the  austere  and 
recluse  sjiirit  of  the  Baptist ;  came  not  to 
forbid,  but  to  sanctify,  the  lawful  and  truly 
valuable  comforts  of  our  present  being.      If 

Mrs.  pleases  to  consult  the  office  of 

matrimony,  as  it  is  celebrated  by  our  church, 
she  will  find  a  substantial  reason  assigned 
for  our  Saviour's  gracing  this  solemnity  with 
his  presence,  and  working  his  first  miracle 
on  this  occasion.  And  the  more  attentive- 
ly she  reads  the  Scriptures,  she  will  find,  in 
various  places,  how  the  Son  of  God  delights 
to  honour  this  sacred  institution  ;  since  he 
calls  himseif  the  bridegroom  of  true  believ- 
ers ;  and  declares  that  he  will  betrothe 
them  to  himself  in  righteousness  :  since  he 
shadows  forth  their  spiritual  union  with  his 
blessed  self,  by  that  most  endearing,  most 
indissoluble  of  ties,  the  nuptial ;  and  figures 
out  the  satisfaction  resulting  from  his  gos- 
pel, and  even  the  sublime  enjoyments  of 
his  heavenly  kingdom,  by  a  marriage  feast 
When  these  things  are  taken  into  consider- 
ation, I  hope  it  will  appear  that  our  holy 
Redeemer  acted  entirely  in  character,  and 
conformably  to  the  whole  tenor  of  his  re- 
velation, by  ennobling,  by  blessing  the  ma- 
trimonial festival  with  his  presence. 

But  "  such  a  sort  of  feast  is  in  general  a 
«cene  of  revelling."  It  is,  I  must  acknow- 
ledge, too  frequently  so  in  our  nation,  and 
in  our  age.     But  was  it  also  a  scene  of  re- 


velling, offensive  to  modesty,  or  contrary  to 
sobriety,  in  early  times  and  among  the  Jew- 
ish people  ?  There  seems  to  be  a  hint  in 
this  very  narrative,  that  they  were  particu- 
larly careful  to  prevent  all  maimer  of  inde- 
cency, or  dissolute  indulgence.  For  this 
reason,  they  appointed  a  governor  of  the 
feast ;  a  principal  part  of  whose  office  was 
to  see  that  no  irregularities  were  committed, 
but  that  all  was  conducted  with  decorum 
as  well  as  economy.  Besides,  if  some  of 
those  festivities  are  perverted,  will  it  follow 
that  all  are  abused  ?  Might  not  there  be 
some  serious  set  of  neighbours  who  knew 
how  to  be  merry  after  a  godly  sort,  and  ful- 
fil the  old  Mosaical  rule  of  rejoicing  before 
the  Lord  their  God?  I  myself  have  been, 
present  at  the  celebration  of  a  wedding  be- 
tween Christian  parties,  and  among  Chris- 
tian friends,  where  heavenly  conversation, 
and  joyful  thanksgiving  to  the  adorable  Au- 
thor of  all  our  comforts,  made  the  chief  and 
the  choicest  part  of  our  entertainment. 
And  is  there  not  very  evident  cause  to- 
suppose,  that  the  nuptials  in  question  were 
consummated  between  persons  of  such  a 
character  ?  The  holy  Jesus,  his  devout 
mother,  and  serious  disciples,  would  scarce- 
ly have  been  invited,  or  would  hardly 
have  accepted  the  invitation,  if  it  was  an 
irreligious  couple,  or  a  wanton  assembly  of 
guests. 

But  "  in  such  a  mixed  multitude,  it  is 
hardly  supposable  that  all  should  be  serious 
in  their  dispositions,  or  innocent  in  their 
conversation."  Would  not  then  the  pre- 
sence of  so  venerable  and  divine  a  Person, 
strike  an  awe  upon  the  most  loose  inclina- 
tion ?  Could  not  his  eternal  power  and 
Godhead  control  the  most  abandoned  tem- 
per and  ungovernable  tongue  ?  He  that  in- 
timidated the  sacrilegious  rabble,  when  they 
profaned  the  temple,  and  drove  them  be- 
fore his  single  scourge ;  he  that  struck 
prostrate  to  the  ground  a  whole  baud  or 
armed  men,  only  with  his  word  ;  he  who 
had  all  hearts  in  his  hand,  and  could  turn 
them  whithersoever  he  pleased  ;  he  would 
doubtless  prohibit,  at  this  juncture,  what- 
ever might  carry  the  appearance  of  an  im- 
modest or  intemperate  freedom.      So  that 

Mrs. need  not  question  but  that,  if  any 

of  the  company  was  dissolutely  disposed, 
the  authority  of  our  Lord's  character,  and 
much  more  the  agency  of  his  Spirit  on 
their  minds,  did  most  effectually  restrain  all 
licentiousness. 

"  One  would  think,"  it  is  farther  ob- 
served, "  he  might  have  improved  some 
occurrence  or  other  to  their  information 
and  advantage."  That  this  was  not  done 
is  taken  for  granted  ;  I  suppose  because  the 
evangelist  does  not  expressly  record  it.  But 
is  this  a  fair  deduction,  or  a  satisfactory 
reason  ?  Are  there  not  many  mighty  works 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


sod 


rtliifb  Jesus  performed,  many  edifying  con- 
ferences wiiicli  Jesus  held,  professedly  omit- 
ted by  the  insjjired  penman?  Was  not  our 
Lord's  tongue  a  fountain  of  wisdom  ever 
tiovvinp,  and  a  well  of  life  never  exhausted  ? 
When  did  that  good  Shepherd  let  slip  an 
opportunity  of  feeding  the  tlock  ?  He  went 
to  feasts,  in  the  same  spirit,  and  for  the 
sair.e  purpose,  as  he  came  into  the  world, 
to  turn  poor  mankind  from  daikness  to 
light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto 
(iod.  The  sun  might  as  well  forbear  shin- 
ing as  the  Sim  of  lighteousness  neglect  to 
diffuse  healing  rays  and  heavenly  knowledge 
all  around.  God's  great  design  in  sending 
his  Sou  into  the  world  was,  that  ignorant 
and  sinful  men  might  be  reclaimed  from  the 
error  of  their  ways,  and  be  made  wise  unto 
salvation.  And  our  Saviour  solemnly  de- 
clares, that  he  always  did  the  will  of  him 
that  sent  him.  If,  therefore,  this  declara- 
tion be  true,  and  if  our  Lord's  conduct  was 
luiiform,  we  cannot  but  conclude,  tlvit  at 
(..'ana,  as  well  as  throughout  all  Galilee,  his 
mouth  was  exercised  in  wisdom,  and  his 
tongue  talked  of  judgment;  that  the  words 
which  dropped  from  his  gracious,  his  in- 
structive lips,  were  much  sweeter  than  the 
richest  dainties  which  the  table  yielded; 
much  more  reviving  than  even  that  gene- 
rous wine,  produced  by  a  miracle,  which  his 
divine  power,  on  this  distinguished  occa- 
sion, wrought.  This  reminds  me  of  an- 
other objection,  couched  in  the  following 
words  : — 

"  It  is  harder  yet  to  reconcile  his  beha- 
viour when  there.  To  increase  the  wine 
wlicn  the  guests  had  well  drunk,  could  tend 
to  no  other  end  than  to  promote  and  en- 
courage   intemperance."       Perhaps    Mrs. 

does  not    sufficiently  attend    to  the 

narration  of  the  evangelist.  I  do  not  fuid 
it  asserted  that  these  guests  had  well  drunk. 
The  expression  is  used,  but  applied  to  other 
persons,  and  the  custom  usual  at  other  ce- 
remonies of  this  nature.  I  once  was  ac- 
ijuainted  with  a  worthy  gentleman  who 
liequently  invited  to  his  table  the  young 
l:ersons  of  his  neighbourhood ;  and  would 
take  a  pleasure  in  cultivating,  by  his  discourse, 
the  jjriuciples  of  sobriety,  industry,  and 
piety  in  their  minds.  Now,  in  case  he  had 
said,  after  sujjper  was  removed,  "  I  know 
very  well,  my  honest  neighbours,  it  is  cus- 
tomary with  some  persons  of  fortune  to 
])lease  and  to  j)ride  themselves  in  making 
their  visitants  drunk.  They  push  the  glass 
briskly  round,  and  press  one  bumjjer  upon 
anotiuT,  till  they  send  their  guest  staggering 
to  bed."  lint  now,  would  any  one  infer, 
from  siu  li  a  remark  on  the  practice  of  others, 
that  this  was  also  the  practice  at  my  fi'iend's 
house':'  I'o  foiin  any  conclusion  injurious 
to  the  sobriety  of  those  guests,  seems  to  be 
mucli  the  same  illogical  and  mneasonable 


arguing.  l?ut,  supposing  the  expression 
applied  to  the  guests  then  present,  what  is 
its  signification  ?  The  original  word  some- 
times signifies  no  more  than  to  drink  with 
so  moderate  an  indulgence,  as  innocently  to 
exhilarate  the  spirits.  It  is  used  concern- 
ing Joseph's  brethren,  when  they  were 
treated  in  his  palace,  and  had  portions  sent 
fiom  his  table,  Gen.  xliii.  34.  Now,  can 
any  one,  W'ho  is  at  all  acquainted  \Aith  the 
character  of  that  exemplary  patriarch,  ima- 
gine that  he  would  permit  his  brethren,  in 
his  own  presence,  to  transgress  the  rules  of 
temperance  ?  IMucli  less  can  any  one,  who 
really  believes  in  Jesus,  and  seriously  con- 
siders the  design  of  his  coming  into  the 
world,  allow  liimself  to  suspect,  that  he 
^vould  furnish  fresh  wine  for  those  who 
(in  the  obnoxious  sense  of  the  word)  had 
well  drunk  already.  Could  he,  who  is  our 
saiictification,  the  Lord  our  purifier,  admi- 
nister to  our  inordinate  gratifications  ? 

"  Yes,"  says  Mrs.  ,  "  because  this 

increase  of  the  wine  could  tend  to  no  other 
end  than  to  promote  and  encourage  intem- 
perance."    Mrs possibly  forgets,  that 

the  Jewish  festivals  were  prolonged  for 
several  days ;  that  a  fresh  succession  of 
guests  might  be  expected  ;  that  very  pro- 
bably a  much  greater  resort  of  company 
than  was  provided  for  might  be  occasioned 
by  our  Lord's  illustrious  presence  ;  that  the 
miraculous  supply  might  be  intended  for 
their  accommodation;  or,  that  it  might  not 
be  all  si)ent  on  that  occasion,  but  reserved 
for  the  future  accommodation  of  tlie  marri- 
ed couple."  AVe  read,  John  xxi.  that  the 
disciples  took,  at  one  cast,  a  vast  multitude 
of  great  fishes.  But  did  they  eat  them  all 
immediately  ?  Then  they  would  have  been 
gluttons  indeed.  They  used  for  themselves 
what  was  necessary  to  satisfy  their  hunger, 
and  sold  the  remainder  to  procure  a  liveli- 
hood. And  why  should  we  not  conclude, 
that  the  bridegroom  also,  after  a  cheerful, 
but  temperate  refreshment  of  his  visitants, 
preserved  the  remainder  of  that  fine  wine 
for  futm'e  exigencies?  This  I  take  to  be 
the  case ;  and  that  our  divine  Master,  by 
tliis  means,  rewarded  him  for  his  hospitality 
to  himself  and  his  followers  ;  at  the  same 
time  giving  a  most  conspicuous  proof,  ithat, 
as  he  and  his  disciples  were  henceforth  to 
have  neither  storehouse  nor  barn,  but  to 
subsist  on  the  charity  of  others,  none  should 
be  losers  by  entertaining  him  and  his 
friends ;  that  every  such  kindness  should 
meet  with  a  full  recompense  of  reward. 

''  I    must    not   omit   the    rough  answer 


*  Many  lonnnentators  are  of  opinion,  that  the 
water  was  nol  tunud  into  wine  in  the  water-pots, 
but  as  it  ran  into  the  cup,  and  the  liquor  in  the 
waier-pol-s  remained  water  still.  If  so,  which  inter- 
pretation, »  ithout  llie  least  force,  the  text  will  very 
well  bear,  llie  lady's  olijtction  wiU  appear  to  have 
less  strength  yet;. 


SOI 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


which  he  makes  to  his  mother  upon  this 
occasion  ;  which,  I  think,  stands  in  need  of 
an  excuse,  though  we  find  none  in  the  evan- 
gelist for  it."  I  do  not  wonder  that  Mrs. 
is  somewhat  offended  at  this  expres- 
sion. She  is  a  lady  of  refined  taste,  and 
delicate  address  ;  and  as  she  is  not  acquaint- 
ed with  the  original  language,  nor  aware 
how  the  phrase  sounded  in  oriental  ears, 
her  remark  is  not  to  be  looked  upon  as  a 
censorious  reflection,  but  as  a  proof  of  the 
politeness  of  her  own  sentiments.  How- 
ever, when  she  has  an  opportunity  of  con- 
sulting the  ancient  writers,  she  will  find 
that  their  language  had  less  of  compliment, 
and  more  of  sincerity  than  ours.  It  was  so 
plain  and  artless,  that  persons  of  the  best 
breeding  have  addressed  ladies  of  the  high- 
est quality  by  this  very  name  ;  and  without 
intending  any  slight,  or  giving  the  least 
affront.  She  may  remember,  that  the  ele- 
ven brethren,  when  pleading  before  the  go- 
vernor of  Egypt,  pleading  for  their  liberties, 
or  even  their  very  lives  ;  when,  if  ever,  their 
expressions  would  be  most  carefully  guard- 
ed, and  full  of  the  utmost  reverence,  yet 
use  this  (to  modern  ears)  uncourtly  style — 
the    man  ;    meaning   the    viceroy  himself. 

Gen.  xliv.  26.      Surely  Mrs.  cannot 

forget,  that  our  Lord,  in  his  last  moments, 
calls  his  mother  by  the  very  same  appella- 
tion. Much  less  can  she  suspect,  that  he 
could  be  wanting  in  respect  and  tenderness, 
when  his  concern  for  the  parent  of  his 
flesh  triumphed  over  the  agonies  of  the 
cross. 

Perhaps  the  substance  of  the  reply  may 
be  thought  somewhat  unkind.  I  believe  it 
should  be  translated,  Woman,  what  hast 
thou  to  do  with  me  ?  {.  e.  in  such  instances 
as  this,  wherein  my  Deity  is  concerned,  and 
an  interposition  of  my  omnipotence  is  re- 
quisite. I  would  have  thee  to  know,  once 
for  all,  that  in  affairs  of  this  nature  thou 
hast  no  authority  over  me  ;  neither  does  it 
become  thee  to  direct  me.  She  was  over- 
forward  ;  she  took  too  much  upon  her  ;  and 
the  answer  was  intended  for  a  plain  and 
serious  rebuke.  Accordingly,  the  humble 
mother,  like  one  sensible  other  misconduct, 
acquiesces  with  silent  submission,  and  ne- 
ver offers  (throughout  the  whole  course  of 
the  history)  to  interfere  in  such  a  manner 
any  more,  hut  leaves  it  to  his  wisdom  to 
determine,  both  when  his  divine  power 
should  be  exerted,  and  what  it  should 
effect. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  it  happens,"  says 
Mrs. ,  "  but  the  more  nearly  I  exam- 
ine matters  of  faith,  the  further  I  am  from 
assenting  to  them."  Will  it  be  acceptable 
to  my  dear  friend  • ,  or  will  it  be  dis- 
gustful, if  I  attempt  to  tell  her  how  this  in 
general  happens?  She  seems  to  be  pos- 
iessed  of  great   mgeniiity  of  temper,  and 


equal  penetration  of  mind;  therefore  I 
cannot  think  she  will  take  amiss,  what  I 
only  offer  to  her  impartial  consideration, 
without  any  application  to  herself.  It  hap- 
pens, because  people  are  unrenewed  by  the 
sanctifying  influences  of  divine  grace-  This 
is  not  my  precarious  conjecture,  but  the  in- 
fallible declaration  of  the  great  Searcher  of 
hearts.  The  carnal  man,  says  the  Wisdom 
of  heaven,  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  ;  for  they  are  foolishness  unto 
him  ;  neither  can  he  know  them,  because 
they  are  spiritually  discerned.  This  was 
the  case  with  Nicodemus,  Our  Lord's 
discourse  was  a  riddle,  was  quite  unintelligi- 
ble to  him,  because  he  was  not  born  of  the 
Spirit,  had  not  experienced  that  sacred 
change  on  his  heart.  Sometimes  it  hap- 
pens, because  persons  are  wise  in  their 
own  eyes ;  depending  more  upon  the 
sagacity  of  their  own  judgment  than  upon 
the  enlightening  grace  of  God.  I  thank 
thee,  O  Father,  says  our  blessed  Re- 
deemer, that  whereas  thou  hast  hid  these 
things  from  (suffered  them  to  lie  hid,  to 
escape  the  discernment  of)  the  wise  and 
prudent,  thou  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes. 
But  who  are  they  that  are  wise  in  their  own 
conceits  ?  I  answer,  they  who  study  much, 
but  pray  little  ;  who  are  often  at  their  desk, 
hut  seldom  on  their  knees ;  often  exercise 
their  minds  in  contemplations,  but  seldom 
lift  up  their  hearts  in  earnest  supplications 
to  the  Father  of  lights.  But  I  must  not 
enlarge.    I  shall  be  insufferably  tedious.    I 

most    cordially   commiserate    Mrs.   's 

afflicted  condition.  I  beg  of  her  to  be 
more  frequent,  more  importunate,  in  her 
devout  addresses  to  the  gracious  God. 
This  is  proper,  peculiarly  proper  for  her 
distressed  circumstances.  If  any  be  afflict- 
ed, let  him  pray — is  a  recipe  prescribed 
from  heaven ;  but  more  especially  needful 
for  the  unsettled  state  of  her  mind.  For 
let  me  say,  and  let  it  not  be  looked  upon 
as  an  unfriendly  saying,  I  cannot  but  fear 
that  soul  is  sadly  unsettled,  far  from  being 
fixed  on  that  Rock  of  ages,  that  oidy  Foun- 
dation, Jesus  Christ,  who  can  suppose  the 
blessed  Redeemer  chargeable  with  such 
great  indecencies  of  speech,  and  still  grosser 
improprieties  of  conduct.  Can  a  mind, 
which  admits  such  unworthy  apprehensions 
of  the  great  Immanuel,  rely  on  him  as  its 
all-satisfying  atonement,  its  complete  right- 
eousness, as  the  only  anchor  of  its  final, 
eternal  hopes  ?  May  the  God  of  all  good- 
ness reveal  his  dear  Son  in  her  heart,  and 
in  mine ;  that  to  us  it  may  be  given  to  know 
the  mystery  of  his  gospel ;  that  we  may  see 
it  to  be  the  wisdom  of  God,  and  feel  it  to 
be  the  power  of  God  to  our  salvation ! 
You  will,  I  dare  say,  heartily  join  your 
jAmen  to  this  important  request.  If  any 
fresh  difficulties  are  started,  I  beg  leave  to 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


805 


dl'c-line  the  province  of  attempting  their 
solution  ;  and  would  remit  all  future  inqui- 
ries to  the  much  clearer  judgment  and  abler 

j)en    of    our    valuable    friend    Mr.    . 

Dear  Sir,  pardon  my  prolixity  ;  pray  for  my 
little  piece  and  its  author  ;  and  assure  your- 
self of  a  willing  and  hearty  return  of  this 
kindness,  from  yotu'  truly,  &c. 


LETTER  LIV. 

Wcstoii-FavcU,  May  1 748. 
I  SEND  ray  dear  fiiend  the  letter,  which 
l)y  his  instigation  I  write.  I  send  it  this 
night,  that  if  he  discerns  any  thing  in  it 
very  improper,  it  may  be  returned  by  the 
bearer,  and  the  needful  alterations  made. 
Methinks  it  gives  a  person  a  tasteful  satis- 
faction to  find  liivour  with  judicious  and 
excellent  men.  What  a  transport  of  de- 
light must  it  create,  to  meet  with  the  ac- 
ceptance of  the  great  Judge,  the  eternal 
King,  the  Fountain  of  all  perfection  !  To 
be  admitted  into  his  immediate  presence; 
to  be  favoured  with  the  brightest  manifes- 
tations of  his  divine  attributes  ;  to  love  him 
with  all  our  souls,  and  to  he  infmitely  more 
beloved  by  him  ;  to  be  coni'ormed  to  his 
glorious,  his  most  amiable  image,  and  so 
much  the  more  as  ages  in  an  endless  suc- 
cession roll  on  ages — this  is  life,  this  is 
blessedness,  this  is  heaven!  And  this  life 
is  in  his  Son  ;  this  blessedness  is  purchased 
for  us  sinners  by  the  obedience  of  Christ ; 
to  this  heaven  Christ  is  the  way,  the  door, 
the  passport.  O  let  us  not  doubt  but  he 
will  make  us  meet,  by  his  Spirit,  for  the 
inheritance  which  he  has  obtained  by  his 
blood.     Ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LV. 

Weston-Favell,  Any.  18,  1748. 
My  veuy  Dear  Fuiend, — I  received 
your  letter,  full  of  tenderness  and  full  of 
piety,  last  night-  The  very  first  thing  I. 
apply  myself  to  this  morning,  is  to  acknow- 
ledge your  favour,  and  confess  my  own  ne- 
gligence. But  your  affectionate  heart  will 
pity  rather  than  blame  me,  when  I  inform 
you,  that  a  relapse  into  the  disorder  of 
which  I  Avas  never  thoroughly  cured,  has 
brought  me  very  low ;  insomuch  that  I  am 
unable  either  to  discharge  the  duties  of  life, 
or  to  answer  the  demands  of  friendshii).  I 
have  not  been  capable  of  ])reaching  for 
several  Sutidays.  Pyrmont  water,  ass's 
milk,  and  such  kind  of  restoratives,  I  try, 
but  try  in  vain.  A  great  while  ago  I  had 
begun  a  very  long  letter  to  my  ever-esteem- 
ed Mr. .      In  this   I   proposed    can- 


didly to  represent  the  reasons  of  my  be- 
lief with  regard  to  the  final  perseverance  of 
the  true  believer.  But  weakness  of  spirits, 
and  its  never-failing  concomitant,  imbecility 
of  thought,  obliged  me  to  desist.  In  the 
new  edition  of  my  Meditations,  a  note  is 
added  on  this  subject,  declaring,  That  I  am 
far  from  maintaining  it  as  essential  to 
Christianity,  or  necessary  to  salvation,  &c. 
Where  I  say.  What  infidels  are  we  in  fact  ? 
my  meaning  is,  that  we  are  all  in  some 
measure  chargeable  with  practical  infidelity; 
as  we  are  all  in  some  degree  carnal,  in  some 
degree  sinful,  while  we  continue  in  this 
mortal  body.  Considering  the  infinite  ve- 
racity, and  unchangeable  faithfulness  of  the 
blessed  God,  the  most  exalted  saints  have 
too  much  cause  to  lament  their  deficiency 
in  point  of  faith,  and  evermore  to  cry  out, 
Lord,  help  our  unbelief! 

An  humble,  well-grounded  assurance  of 
our  reconciliation  to  God,  is  an  unspeak- 
ably precious  blessing.  It  is  what  all 
should  seek,  and  many  have  attained.  A 
gentleman  told  me  a  few  days  ago,  That 
though  he  was  often  solicited  to  sin,  often 
defiled  with  corruption,  yet  he  had  no  man- 
ner of  doubt  concerning  his  everlasting  sal- 
vation for  these  twenty  years.  On  trying 
occasions,  that  seemed  to  endanger  his  final 
happiness,  he  fled,  I  presume,  to  the  Foun- 
tain opened  for  sin  and  uncleanness.  He 
viewed,  by  faith,  the  infinite,  (O  transport- 
ing truth!)  the  infinite  satisfaction  made 
by  the  bleeding  Inunanuel ;  and  could  not 
but  confide,  that  a  divine  expiation  was  more 
powerful  to  save,  than  all  past  sins  or  pre- 
'  sent  infirmities  to  destroy.  This  is  the 
white  stone  of  which  Job  was  happily  pos- 
sessed— I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth  ; 
and  this  sweet  confidence  supported  him 
under  all  his  tribulations.  This  is  that  ear- 
nest of  the  Spirit  in  our  hearts,  of  which 
St.  Paul  makes  mention,  and  with  which 
he  was  endued ;  We  know  that  if  our 
earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  be  dis- 
solved, we  have  a  building  of  God,  an 
house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens.  And,  in  the  full  assurance  of 
this  blessed  hope,  may  you,  my  dear  friend, 
be  eveiy  day  more  and  more  established, 
strengthened,  settled ! 

If  at  aTiy  time  I  am  favoured  with  this 
heavenly  gift,  it  is  derived  from  such  com- 
fortable Scriptures  :  The  Son  of  the  Most 
High  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners  : 
He  died,  the  just  for  the  unjust :  He  pour- 
ed out  his  soul  for  transgressors-  And 
since  you  and  I  know  ourselves  to  be  sin- 
ners, unjust,  transgressors,  why  should  we 
not  take  to  ourselves  the  comfort  here  of- 
fered for  our  acce])tance  ?  AVhy  should  we 
not  make  use  of  the  privilege  here  consign- 
ed over  to  our  enjoyment,  and  claim  the 
legacy,  in  these  clauses  of  our  dying  Mas- 


806 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


ter's  testament,  most  evidently  beqeathed 
to  our  souls  ?  To  found  our  expectations 
on  this  bottom,  will  be  a  means  both  of 
humbling  and  exalting  us  ;  of  filling  us  with 
shame,  and  filling  us  with  hope  ;  that  we 
may  abhor  ourselves,  and  yet  rejoice  in 
God  our  Saviom-.  Many  build  their  hopes 
upon  their  religious  duties  and  righteous 
deeds  :  such  a  building  must  unavoidably  be 
shaken  by  every  temptation,  and  sapped 
by  every  working  of  corruption.  These  are 
in  no  wise  the  foundation,  but  evidences 
rather  that  we  are  fixed  on  it.  For  my 
part,  when  I  can  exercise  a  grace,  or  per- 
form a  duty,  that  is  debased  by  no  imper- 
fection, mingled  with  no  corruption,  then  I 
will  trust  on  self-righteousnuss.  But  till 
then,  I  must  be  veiy  unreasonable  if  I  do 
not  rely  on  my  illustrious  Surety  ;  fly  to  the 
ark  of  his  wounds,  and  make  mention  of 
his  righteousness  only.  This  is  all-suffi- 
cient ;  and  never,  never  faileth  those  that 
trust  in  it. 

You  are  not  ignorant  of  my  sentiments 
with  regard  to  our  dissenting  brethren. 
Are  we  not  all  devoted  to  the  same  su- 
preme Lord  ?  Do  we  not  all  rely  on  the 
merits  of  the  same  glorious  Redeemer  ? 
By  professing  the  same  faith,  the  same 
doctrine  which  is  according  to  godliness, 
we  are  incorporated  into  the  same  mystical 
body.  And  how  strange,  how  unnatural 
would  it  be,  if  the  head  should  be  averse  to 
the  breast,  or  the  hands  inveterately  pre- 
judiced against  the  feet,  only  because  the 
one  is  habited  somewhat  differently  from 
the  other?  Though  I  am  steady  in  my 
attachment  to  the  established  church,  I 
would  have  a  right  hand  of  fellowship,  and 
a  heart  of  love,  ever  ready,  ever  oj)en,  for 
all  the  upright  evangelical  dissenters.  I 
thank  you  for  the  news  you  sent ;  it  is  im- 
possible for  me  to  pay  in  kind.  Make  my 
most  respectful  compliments  acceptable  to 

worthy  Mr. I  had   agreed  to  wait 

upon  him  when  I  was  in  town  ;  but  my 
brother's  illness  growing  worse,  and  soon 
proving  fatal,  deprived  me  of  this  pleasure, 
and  sent  me  home  to  attend  his  corpse 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  I  hope  you 
will  be  pleased  with  Archbishop  Leigh. 
ton's  works ;  and  I  heartily  pray,  that 
they  may  be  abundantly  blessed  to  both 
our    souls.     I   sincerely  commiserate  poor 

Miss   D 's   case.     Despair  is  indeed  a 

fiery  dart  of  the  devil ;  but,  blessed  be  So- 
vereign Goodness,  thei'e  is  a  remedy  against 
this  malady.  The  Israelites,  though  wound- 
ed by  the  deadly  serpents,  looked  to  the 
brazen  type  hung  upon  the  pole,  and  found 
a  certain  cure.  And  though  we  are  stung 
by  a  sense  of  guilt,  and  almost  perishing  in 
extreme  despondency,  yet  let  us  turn  our 
eye  to  him  who  was  lifted  up  on  the  cross, 
and  we  shall  be  whole.     He  who  was  gash- 


ed with  wounds,  and  covered  with  blood, 
who  was  pierced  with  irons,  and  stabbed  to 
the  heart  J  he  is  our  medicine,  our  recovery, 
our  life.  By  his  stripes  we  are  healed. 
Oh  !  let  us  look  unto  him  from  the  depths 
of  distress,  as  well  as  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  look  unto  him  and  be  saved.  My 
paper  admonishes  me  to  have  done ;  but  1 
cannot  conclude  without  assuring  you,  that 
I  love  you  most  affectionately ;  so  long  as 
life  and  understanding  last,  shall  pray  for 
you  among  my  choicest  friends  ;  and  hope, 
when  this  transitory  scene  of  things  is  at  an 
end,  to  be,  in  bonds  of  nobler  friendship 
and  tenderer  endearment,  ever,  ever  yours, 
&c. 


LETTER  LVI. 

Weston-Favell,  June  3,  1 749. 

So,  my  dear  Sir,  the  physicians  upon  the 
whole  have  given  your  friend  no  great  hopes 
of  a  cure.  The  apothecary's  shop,  the  ass's 
dugs,  and  the  mineral  waters  may,  they 
apprehend,  palliate  the  disorder;  but  that 
even  a  palliation,  it  seems,  is  not  to  be  ex- 
pected, without  keeping  the  mind  quiet  and 
cheerful :  and  that  this  important  end  may 
most  elFectually  be  answered,  the  doctors 
have  recommended  diversions,  travelling, 
and  company ;  giving  a  caution,  at  the  same 
time,  I  am  told,  against  retirement,  so  much 
praying,  and  poring  over  religious  books. 

Now,  if  cheerfulness  be  the  grand,  the 
fundamental,  the  only  recipe  adequate  even 
to  the  mitigation  of  this  disease,  I  may  ven- 
ture to  assert,  that  such  recipe  is  to  be  found 
(possibly  what  I  declare  may  be  wondered 
at,  but  I  aver  it  is  to  be  found)  in  the 
Bible.  It  may  be  seen  wrote  at  length, 
and  it  well  deserves  consideration,  in  Prov. 
xvii.  22.  "  A  merry  heart  doth  good  like  a 
medicine,  but  a  broken  spirit  drieth  the 
bones." 

That  a  satisfied,  a  serene,  and  cheerful 
state  of  mind,  will  in  this  case  be  more  be- 
neficial than  all  manner  of  restoratives  for 
decayed  nature,  or  cordials  for  the  sinking 
spirits,  I  can  easily  believe  ;  nay,  I  am  far- 
thei'  convinced,  that  whatever  can  be  con- 
trived by  the  most  solicitous  care  of  the 
physicians,  will  probably  be  rendered  inef- 
fectual, without  this  prime  preparative,  this 
most  sovereign  prescript.  It  is  indispen- 
sably necessary,  that  all  possible  endeavours 
should  be  exerted  to  have  the  thoughts  calm, 
placid,  and  easy.  Every  thing  must  be 
sacrificed  to  this  most  desirable  end.  No- 
thing can  be  more  pernicious,  in  such  cir- 
cumstances, than  the  contrary  situation  of 
mind.  But  here  will  arise  a  question.  How 
this  inward  tranquillity  may  most  easily  be 
attained,  and  most  surely  established  ?  By 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


807 


company,  by  travelling,  by  diversions,  the 
doctors  and  some  others  will  reply. — I  am 
far,  very  tar  from  being  an  enemy  to  diver- 
sions, when  properly  chosen,  and  nsed  with 
moderation.  Travelling  may  beguile  the 
sense  of  woe,  and  palliate  for  a  while  the 
malady.  Company,  when  cheerful  and  im- 
proving, is  an  excellent  source  of  comfort ; 
when  innocent  only  and  entertainining,  is 
of  some  present  service,  and  ought  to  be 
allowed  (at  intervals)  admittance.  But 
these  will  no  more  reach  the  case  now 
mider  consideration,  are  no  more  able  to 
create  a  settled  tranquillity  in  the  breast, 
than  the  gentle  motions  of  a  fan  are  suffi- 
cient to  impel  a  wind-bound  fleet.  If  they 
engross  our  time,  and  leave  no  leisure  for 
nobler  methods  of  consolation,  they  will 
certainly  prove  like  heavy  lowering  clouds, 
and,  instead  of  diffusing,  will  intercept  the 
rays  of  heartfelt  satisfaction.  But  what, 
may  it  be  asked,  would  I  substitute  instead 
of  these  expedients?  I  would  beg  leave 
(unpolite  as  it  may  seem,  and  in  a  manner 
exploded)  to  recommend  prayer  to  God, 
and  the  daily  reading  of  the  Scriptures.  If 
kind  and  friendly  conversation  be  judged 
proper,  why  should  prayer  be  disapproved  ? 
Prayer  is  an  humble,  but  delightful  inter- 
course, with  the  best,  the  greatest,  the  ever- 
lasting Friend.  And  has  any  earthly  friend 
exercised  more  loving-kindness  ?  is  any 
earthly  friend  more  able  to  administer  relief, 
than  the  blessed  God  ?  If  there  be  such 
friends,  let  them  be  our  whole  dependance, 
and  let  omnipotent  Goodness  be  secluded 
from  any  regard. 

God  lias  so  loved  us,  that  he  gave  his 
own  Son,  dearer  to  himself  than  angels, 
aiul  all  worlds,  to  die  for  our  salvation. 
Kather  than  we  should  perish  for  ever,  he 
sent  his  infinitely  glorious  Son  to  take  upon 
him  our  nature,  and  sulTer  the  unknown 
agonies  of  crucifixion.  To  show  his  readi- 
ness to  succoiu'  us  in  ;my  distress,  he  styles 
himself  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  God 
(not  of  some,  but)  of  all  comfort,  2  Cor,  i. 
3.  And  where  is  the  person  from  whom 
we  may  more  reasonably  expect  to  receive 
tender  anjd  compassionate  succours,  than 
from  this  all-gracious  God  ?  Is  he  not  as 
powerful  as  he  is  gracious  ?  What  Job  said 
of  his  companions,  is  in  a  degree  true  of 
every  human  aid, — Impotent  and  miserable 
comforters  are  ye  all.  But  the  God  of 
heaven  is  able  to  give  songs  in  the  night  of 
distress  ;  to  make  the  bones  that  sorrow  and 
anguish  have  broken,  to  rejoice.  If  he 
speak  peace,  who  shall  cause  dis(juictudc, 
or  what  shall  destroy  our  tranquillity  ?  In- 
deed, if  we  apply  for  comfort  to  any  thing 
lower  than  heaven,  or  by  any  such  means 
as  exclude  frequent  prayer,  we  neglect  the 
fountain  of  living  waters,  and  liew  out  to 
ourselves  cisterns,  broken  cisterns  that  can 


hold  no  water.  The  Scriptures  (and  be- 
lieve me,  as  I  speak  from  daily  experience) 
are  a  treasury  of  comfort.  One  who  had 
drank  deep  of  the  cup  of  sorrow  declares, 
that  they  rejoice  the  heart ;  and  that  for  his 
own  part,  if  his  delight  had  not  been  in 
the  divine  law,  he  should  have  perished  in 
his  trouble  ;  (see  Bible,  Psal.  cxix.  92.) 
These  things,  says  the  favourite  disciple, 
write  we  unto  you  (not  barely  that  you  may 
have  joy,  but)  that  your  joy  may  be  full, 
John  XV.  II.  And  St.  Paul  adds,  that 
whatever  things  are  written  by  the  Spirit 
of  inspiration,  are  written  for  our  benefit; 
that  we,  through  pacience  and  comfort  ot 
the  Scriptures,  might  have  hope,  Rom.  xv. 
4.  ;  that  blessed  hope  of  eternal  life,  which 
is  an  anchor  to  the  soul  in  all  the  storms  of 
adversity ;  which  is  the  oil  of  gladness, 
swimming  above  all  the  waves  of  affliction. 
By  having  recourse  to  diversions  and  amuse- 
ments, in  preference  to  the  strong  consola- 
tions suggested  in  the  Bible,  we  act  as  in- 
judiciously, we  shall  be  deceived  as  cer- 
tainly, as  if,  amidst  the  sultry  heats  of  sum- 
mer, we  should  seek  cooling  refreshment 
from  a  painted  tree,  and  shun  the  embower- 
ing shady  covert  of  a  real  grove. 

If  we  are  afflicted,  the  Scriptures  acquaint 
us,  that  our  afflictions  are  the  chastisements 
of  a  Father,  not  the  scourges  of  an  enemy. 
They  give  us  assurance,  that  the  all-dispos- 
ing Providence  will  not  suffer  us  to  be  af- 
flicted above  what  we  are  able  to  bear;  (see 
1  Cor.  X.  13.);  that  they  shall  turn  to  our 
good,  and  bring  forth  the  peaceable  fruits  of 
righteousness  ;  that  they  are  light,  are  only 
for  a  moment,  and  yet  shall  work  out  for  us 
a  weight,  an  eternal  weight  of  glory.  Can 
all  the  volumes  of  heathen  morality  suggest, 
or  all  the  recreations  of  the  world  afford, 
such  rational  and  solid  consolation  ?  With- 
out these  consolations,  afflictions  will  be 
like  a  latent  sore,  smarting  and  rankling  in 
the  heart ;  will  produce  discontent  with  our 
condition,  arul  repining  at  Providence  ;  a 
melancholy  temper,  and  a  fretful  carriage. 
Trifling  company,  and  worldly  pleasures, 
will  serve  only  to  aggravate  the  misery,  and 
make  us  inwardly  mourn,  that  while  others 
are  in  the  elevations  of  mirth,  we  are  pressed 
with  a  weight  of  calamity  ;  whereas,  by 
means  of  those  sovereign  consolations,  af- 
flictions may  be  improved  to  the  health  of 
the  mind,  and  become  a  most  salutary  ex- 
pedient for  furthering  our  spiritual  happi- 
ness. 

Can  any  thing  be.  more,  or  equally  com- 
fortable, than  the  privileges  recorded  in  that 
charter  of  our  salvation,  the  Scriptures  ? 
There  we  are  told,  that  as  many  as  truly 
believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  are  children  of  the 
Almighty  ;  that  the  Lord  who  commandeth 
the  waters,  the  glorious  God  who  raaketh 
the  thunder,  the  everlasting  King  who  ruleth 


608  A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 

all    things   in  heaven    and    earth,    is  their  i  complacency  the  decay  of  their  cartlily  ta- 
Father;  he   pities    them  as  a  father  pities  I  L-eniacle  ;  because  there  remained  lor  them. 


his  own  children,  Psalm  ciii.  13.  ;  and  that 
a  mother  may  sooner  forget  her  sucking 
child,  than  he  can  remit  his  tender  care  for 
their  present  welfare  and  endless  felicity, 
Isaiah  xlix.  13.  That  because  we  are  sin- 
ners, Christ  Jesus,  with  infinitely  more 
than  parental  tenderness,  bore  our  sins,  and 
expiated  all  our  guilt,  in  his  own  bleeding 
body  upon  the  tree,  1  Peter  ii.  24.  Be- 
cause we  frequently  offend,  and  always  fail, 
our  merciful  High-priest  ever  liveth  to  make 
intercession  for  us,  and  to  plead  his  divine 
merits  m  our  behalf,  Heb.  vii.  '■25.  Be- 
cause we  have  many  corruptions  within, 
and  are  assaulted  by  various  temptations 
without,  we  have  a  promise  of  the  blessed 
Spirit  to  subdue  our  corruptions,  Gal.  iii. 
l4.  ;  Ezek.  xxxvi.  27-  and  renew  us  after 
the  image  of  him  who  created  us,  Col.  iii. 
10.  Because  we  are  liable  to  manifold 
misfortunes,  and  visited  with  a  variety  of 
sorrows,  the  same  Holy  Spirit  is  promised, 
imder  the  amiable  character  of  a  Comforter, 
John  XV.  7.;  Luke  xi.  13.  Because  all 
flesh  is  gi-ass,  and  all  the  goodliness  thereof 
(the  youth,  the  beauty,  the  wealth,  all  mor- 
tal accomplishments,  and  every  worldly  en- 
joyment) is  withering,  and  transient  as  the 
flower  of  the  field,  (Isa.  xl.  6.)  the  Scrip- 
tures direct  our  view,  and  consign  over  to 
our  faith  a  most  incomparable  reversionary 
inheritance  ;  an  inheritance  reserved  in  hea- 
ven for  us,  which  is  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away,  1  Pet.  i.  4. 

Are  these  things,  I  would  ask  the  phy- 
sicians, likely  to  deject  the  mind,  or  oppress 
it  with  heaviness  ?  Need  their  patients  fear 
an  aggravation  of  distresses  from  the  offer, 
from  the  enjoyment  of  such  blessings  ? 
Much  more  reasonably  might  the  bleeding 
woimd  fly  from  the  lenient  hand,  dread  the 
healing  balm,  and  court  its  cure  from  the 
viper's  envenomed  tooth.  Have  these  tniths 
a  tendency  to  engender  gloomy  apprehen- 
sions, as  the  medical  gentlemen  are  loo  apt 
to  imagine,  or  do  these  increase  the  load 
which  galls  the  afflicted  mind  ?  Rather, 
what  heai-t  (that  attends  to,  and  believes 
such  glad  tidings)  can  forbear  even  leaping 
for  joy  ?  These  are  calculated  to  put  off 
our  sackcloth,  ajid  gird  us  with  gladness;  are 
enough  to  turn  the  groans  of  grief  into  the 
songs  of  gratitude. 

Cheered  by  these  reviving  considerations, 
supported  by  this  blessed  hope,  the  ancient 
Christians  were  more  than  conquerors  over 
all  their  calamities  ;  they  even  gloried  in 
tribulations,  because  these  were  the  appoint- 
ed way  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Acts  xiv. 
•22.  They  took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their 
goods,  knowing  that  they  had,  in  the  world 
above,  a  better  and  more  enduring  sub- 
stance, Heb.  X.  54.     They  perceived  with 


after  their  dissolution,  a  house  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens,  2  Cor. 
V.  1.  Perhaps  we  may  not  arrive  at  such 
heights  of  heroic  and  trium])haiit  exultiition  ; 
but  surely  we  should  try  those  remedies, 
which  in  their  case  were  so  surprisingly  and 
ha})pily  successful. 

Upon  the  whole,  a  peaceful  composiue 
of  mind,  and  calm  resignation  to  the  all-wise 
will  of  God  ;  a  holy  joy  in  the  merits  of  our 
ever-blessed  Redeemer,  and  a  ■\^■ell-grounded 
hope  of  unutterable  and  immortal  bliss  in  a 
better  world  ;  these,  these  are  more  abso- 
lutely needful  for  a  case  like  this,  and  will 
do  more  towards  relief,  than  all  the  drugs 
that  nature  produces.  And  very  sure  I  am, 
that  these  noble  anodynes  are  dispensed  no 
where  but  in  the  Scriptures  ;  are  to  be  pro- 
cured no  otherwise  than  by  ])rayer.  Other 
methods  may  stupify  for  a  moment,  but  will 
not  remove  the  pain,  much  less  inUoduce 
permanent  ease. 

I  speak  not  this  from  mere  speculation, 
or  conjectural  probability.  I  have  myself 
experienced  the  efKcacy  of  the  preceding 
expedients  for  these  desirable  purposes. 
Having  been  a  sort  of  veteran  in  affliction, 
I  have  been  under  a  necessity  of  applying 
these  consolations  ;  and  have  the  utmost 
reason  to  bear  witness,  that  there  are  none 
like  them.  The  Scriptures  are  the  treasury 
of  joy  and  peace,  and  the  truly  religious  are 
generally  the  most  uniformly  cheerful. 

If  you  apprehend  «hat  I  have  here  ad- 
vanced on  the  means  of  obtaining  true 
cheerfulness  and  solid  peace  of  mind,  may 
be  in  any  measure  instrumental  to  the  com- 
fort of  your  friend,  you  would  do  well  per- 
haps to  communicate  it,  as  I  presume  you 
are  not  ashamed  of  appearing  in  the  recom- 
mendation of  the  Bible.  The  physicians 
would  probably  sneer  at  such  sort  of  advice, 
but  the  arguments  will  not  be  the  less  valid 
on  that  account ;  and  if  their  patient  be 
seriously  disposed,  such  sneers  would  have 
httle  or  no  effect. 

Do  you  recollect  Dr.  Yoimg's  lines  "  in 
the  Eighth  Night  ? 

-Wouldst  thou  not  laugh, 


This  counsel  strange  should  I  presume  to  give — 

Retire  and  r^-ad  thy  Bible  to  be  gay ; 

There  truths  abound  of  sovereign  Md  to  peace. 

But  these,  thou  think'st,  are  gloomy  paths  lojoy; 

False  joys  indeed  are  bom  from  want  of  thought; 

True  joy  from  thought's  full  bent  and  energy  : 

And  this  demands  a  mind  in  equal  poise, 

Remote  from  gloomy  grief  and  glaring  joy. 

Much  joy  not  only  speaks  small  happiness ; 

But  happiness  that  shortly  must  expire. 

Can  joy,  unbottom'd  in  reflection,  stand  ? 

Can  such  a  joy  meet  accidents  unshock'd  ? 

Or  talk  with  threatening  death,  and  not  turn  pale  ? 

Though  my  letter  is  much  longer  than  I 
at  first  intended,  and  stands  in  need  of  an 


•  See  Letter  CLX.  in  this  volume. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


809 


apo.ogy  for  its  prolixity,   I  cannot  conchuie  and  years  after  I  am  gone  hence,  and  seen 

without  giving  you  a  fresh   assunince,   that  no  niore.      And  I  bless,  together  with  voii, 

am()ii>;s-t   the  great  niiiniifr  of   those  «ho  his   holy  name,  for  confiimiiig  so  far  my 

esteem  ajid  respect  you,  there  is  not  one  of  apprehensions,  as   to  begin   tlie    work    of 

them  who  more  sincerely  regards  you  than,  yoiu- recovery  from  so  dejilorable  an  illness, 

good  sir,  your  most  obedient,  and  very  iium-  May  he  do  in  this  case  as  he  will  in  the 


ble  servant. 


LETTER  LVIL 

Weston- Fcivell,  Juli/  23,  1 749. 

Dear  Sir, — The  favour  you  have  done 
me,  in  presenting  me  with  Mr.  Moses 
Brown's  works,  was  far  from  iny  expecta- 
tion. Please  to  accept  my  best  thanks  for 
the  gift,  which,  I  dare  say,  will  in  the  per- 
usal i)rove  perfectly  agreeable,  and  not  a 
little  useful. 

I  hope  the  divine  Providence  will  give 
his  Sunday  Thoughts  an  extensive  spiead, 
and  make  them  an  instrument  of  diffusing 
the  savour  of  true  religion.  Seldom,  if 
ever,  have  I  seen  a  treatise  that  presents 
the  reader  with  so  full,  yet  concise  a  view  ; 
so  agreeable,  yet  so  striking  a  picture  of 
true  Christianity,  in  its  most  important  ar- 
ticle-;, and  most  distinguishing  pecidiarities. 
Though  I  am  utterly  unacquainted  with  the 
author,  I  assure  myself  he  is  no  novice  iji 
the  sacred  school,  and  has  more  than  a  spe- 
culative knowledge  of  the  gospel  ;  every 
page  discovers  traces  of  an  excellent  heart, 
that  has  itself  experienced  what  the  muse 
sings,     i  am,  &c. 


LETTER  LVIIL 

r/esto7i~FarelI,  Jitli/  20,  1 740. 
Thanks  to  my  desix  friend  for  his  wel- 
come letter.  It  imparted  joy  to  my  heart  ; 
and  having  communicated  pleasure  to  our 
family,  is  gone  (part  of  it,  I  mean)  to  make 
glad  your  children  and  your  friends  at 
Northampton.  I  must  confess,  I  never 
was  so  nuich  disheaitened  at  your  disorder 
as  miuiy  others  were,  even  though  the  phy- 
sicians themselves  liad  given  you  over ; 
and  though  I  have  been  often  accosted  by 
some  of  your  cordial  well-v/ishcrs  with  such 
saddening  addresses,  "  I   am   sorry,  sir,  to 

heitr  that  Dr.  S is  gone    to    Bristol, 

without  any  likelihood  of  retmiiiug  alive," 
I  really  believe  that  God  has  some  signal 
work  for  you  to  do.  He  that  has  snatched 
the  brand  from  the  fire,  and  made  it  a  po- 
lished shaft  in  liis  quiver,  will  not,  I  ])er- 
suade  myself,  so  soon  ca.-,t  it  away,  or  break 
it  to  pieces.  I  have  a  stiong  j)iesage,  that 
almighty  Goodness  will  continue  you  as  an 
instrument  to  glorify  his  Son  .lesiis  Christ, 
and  to  tuni  many  to  ijghtcoubness,  yeai's 


more  important  affair  of  our  eternal  salva- 
I  tion,  thoroughly  accomplish  what  he  has 
graciously  begun  ! 

Your  family  is  in  prosperity ;  your  olive 
plants  thrive,  and  are  glossy  with  health. 
I  asked  S;dly,  Where  her  papa  was,  and 
how  he  did  ?  and  her  pretty  little  lijis 
lisped,  Very  bad,  and  gone  to  Bristol. 
Think,  my  friend,  when  you  remember 
those  sweet  and  engaging  children,  think 
on  that  delightful  promise  in  Scripture, 
Can  a  mother  forget  her  sucking  child  ? 
yea,  she  may  forget,  yet  will  not  I  forget 
thee,  Isa.  xlix.  15. 

From  my  heart  I  pity  your  sufTerings ; 
but  if  I  pity  your  distress,  with  what  in- 
finitely more  tender  compassion  are  30U  re- 
garded by  your  heavenly  Father?  by  him 
who  said  in  the  multitude  of  his  mercies, 
"  My  So!i  shall  bleed,  that  you  may  be 
healed :  My  only  Son  shall  die,  that  you 
may  live  for  evennore."  May  this  blood, 
thus  shed  for  you,  preserve  your  body  and 
sold  to  everlasting  life  !  I  hope  you  will 
be  enabled  to  cast  your  burden  upon  the 
Lord,  and  resign  yoiu-self  wholly  to  his 
wise  disposal ;  and,  doubtless,  you  will  ex- 
perience to  yoiur  comfort,  that  he  has  the 
bowels  of  a  Father  to  commiserate,  and 
the  arm  of  Omnipotence  to  succour. 

A  passage  in  the  epistle  to  the  Colossi- 
ans,  which  I  read  this  very  day,  ( viz.  chap, 
i.  ver.  11.)  is  extremely  j)eitinent  to  your 
case,  and  what  I  shall  frequently  pray  may 
he  fidlilled  to  your  great  consolation, — 
That  you  may  be  strengthened  with  all 
might,  accord.n-,'  to  his  glorious  power, 
unto  all  patici.co  and  long-suifering,  with 
joyfulness.  If  yon  should  live  to  give  me 
an  hour's  coiiversatii)n,  this  verse,  and  the 
preceding,  would  funiish  us  with  a  most 
pleasing  and  im]jrovnigsubiec-t  of  discourse. 
The  conciseness,  the  propriety,  the  energy 
of  the  ins])ired  supplications,  is  admirable. 
But  I  must  waive  such  remarks,  lest  I 
send  you  a  preachment  instead  of  an  epis- 
tle. 

I  heard  you  condemned  the  other  day,  in 
a  large  company,  and  indeed  treated  with  a 
maUgnant  severity,  about  im  aJlaii  in  which, 
to  my  certain  knowledge,  you  had  acted 
with  great  generosity.  1  exjilained,  to  the 
confusion  of  the  rcjater,  all  those  circum- 
stances which  he  had  so  grossly  misrej)re- 
sented  ;  and  then  I  quoted  the  remark  of 
Mr.  Richardson,  in  his  Clarissa,  viz. 
"  That  dithcult  situations  (like  yours) 
make  seeming  occasions  of  censure  una- 
voidable ;  and  that  where  the  reputation  of 


810 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


another  (especially  of  a  man  of  character) 
is  concerned,  we  should  never  be  in  baste 
to  censure,  or  to  judge  peremptorily  on 
first  surmises."  Audi  alteram  partem,  is 
always  my  rule.  It  is  our  duty  to  use  cir- 
cumspection ;  and  to  be  upon  our  guard  to 
cut  off  occasion  from  those  who  seek  occa- 
sion to  misrepresent  and  injure  us:  after 
this  precaution,  we  should  not  be  too  soli- 
citous about  the  clamours  of  the  malevo- 
lent and  the  unthinking.  May  the  God  of 
wisdom  give  us  that  prudence,  which  is 
profitable  to  direct !     And  then 

Conscia  mens  recti  famae  mendacia  ridet. 
This  was  the  Heathens'  cure  for  the  wounds 
of  defamation  ;  this  their  armour  against 
those  keenest  of  arrows,  bitter  words.  But 
see  in  this,  as  well  as  in  every  other  in- 
stance, the  noble  superiority  of  the  Chris- 
tian scheme  !  Being  defamed,  we  bless, 
says  the  apostle.  Pray  for  them  that  de- 
spitefully  use  you,  says  his  divine  Master. 
This  not  only  baffles,  but  more  than  tri- 
umphs over  the  efforts  of  malice ;  and 
brings  an  increase  of  virtue,  consequently 
of  happiness,  even  from  the  poison  of  ma- 
lignity, and  the  gall  of  misery. 

The  bishop  has  been  at  Northampton, 
and  his  charge  turned  upon  the  study  of 
the  Scriptures  ;  which  he  affectionately  re- 
commended, and  forcibly  urged.  There 
was  something  omitted,  which  I  could  not 
but  wish  had  been  represented  and  enforc- 
ed ;  however,  in  the  main  it  was  excellent, 
and  what  I  should  rejoice  to  have  reduced 
to    universal    practice.      Our  dear   friend, 

Mr. ,  spied  the  defect  I  hint  at ;  and 

when  his  mealy-mouthed  companion  would 
not  indeed  have  concealed  it,  but  rather 
have  enlarged  u]Jon  what  was  v;duable, 
"  Tmly,"  says  he,  "  I  do  not  see  why  we 
should  not  speak  boldly,  and  bear  our  tes- 
timony, though  it  make  the  ears  of  the 
hearers  to  tingle."  He  is  cut  out  for  a 
champion  in  the  cause  of  our  blessed  Lord; 
very  sensible,  and  much  of  the  gentleman  : 
bold  too  as  a  lion,  he  breathes  defiance 
against  the  world  and  hell.  Confiding  in 
his  almighty  Master,  he  fears  neither  the 
scourge  of  the  tongue,  nor  the  pomp  of 
power. 

Please  to  present  my  affectionate  com- 
pliments to  Mr.  C and  to  Mr.  G 

I  need  not  solicit  a  place  in  their  or  your  dai- 
ly intercessions,  because  lam  persuaded  nei- 
ther of  you  can  withhold  so  needful  a  piece 
of  charity.  Accept  my  best  wishes,  to  which 
I  join  my  earnest  prayers  for  your  health, 
your  comfort,  and  happiness  ;  and  believe 
me,  as  I  am,  my  dear  doctor,  your  truly 
affectionate  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  LIX. 

Weston-Favell,  Any.  30,  1749. 

We  have  seen  marvellous  things  to-da)', 
said  the  people  of  old  ;  and  I  may  U-uly 
say,   I  have    read   mai-vellous  tidings  this 

evening.      What !  is become  a  serious 

and  zealous  preacher?  He  that  so  often 
filled  the  scorner's  chair,  is  he  transformed 
into  a  strenuous  advocate  for  the  gospel, 
ajid  a  devoted  champion  of  C-hrist  ?  Ne- 
ver, surely,  was  the  prophet's  exclamation 
more  seasonable,  Grace  !  grace  !  Zech.  iv. 
7.  How  sovereign  its  power !  How  su- 
perabundant its  riches ! 

I  heartily  congratulate  you,  my  dear 
friend,  my  very  dear  brother  I  must  call 
you  now,  on  this  change.  And  I  thank 
Christ  Jesus  our  Lord,  that  he  hath  count- 
ed you  faithful,  putting  you  into  the  minis- 
try. I  think  the  hand  of  Providence,  in 
conducting  this  affair,  is  very  visible,  and 
much  to  be  regarded  ;  which  must  give  you 
no  small  satisfaction,  and  tend  to  work,  not 
the  spirit  of  fear,  but  of  love,  and  of  faith, 
and  of  a  sound  mind. 

How  honourable  is  your  new  office  !  to 
be  an  envoy  from  the  King  of  heaven ' 
How  delightful  your  province  !  to  be  con- 
tinually conversant  in  the  glorious  truths  of 
the  gospel,  and  the  unsearchable  riches  of 
Christ !  How  truly  gainful  yoiu*  business  ! 
to  win  soids  !  this  is,  indeed,  an  everlasting 
possession.  And  how  illustrious  the  re- 
ward promised  to  your  faithfid  service- 
When  the  chief  Shepherd  shall  appear, 
you  shall  receive  a  crown  of  glory  that 
fadeth  not  away  ! 

May  we  clearly  discern,  and  never  forget, 
what  a  Master  we  serve  !  so  glorious,  that 
all  the  angels  of  light  adore  him ;  so  gracious, 
that  he  spilt  his  blood  even  for  his  enemies  ; 
so  mighty,  that  he  has  all  power  in  heaven  and 
on  earth  ;  so  faithful,  that  heaven  and  earth 
may  pass  away,  much  sooner  than  one  jot 
or  tittle  of  his  word  fail.  And  what  is  his 
word,  what  his  engagement  to  his  ministers  ? 
Lo,  I  AM  WITH  YOU  ALWAYS.  I  Write  it  in 
capitals,  because  I  wish  it  may  be  written 
in  our  hearts.  Go  forth,  my  dear  friend,  in 
the  strength  of  this  word ;  and,  verily,  you 
shall  not  be  confounded.  Plead  with  your 
great  Lord,  plead  for  the  accomplishment 
of  this  word,  and  the  gospel  shall  prosper 
in  your  hand.  In  every  exercise  of  your 
ministerial  duty,  act  an  humble  faith  on  this 
wonderful  word,  and  the  heart  of  stone 
shall  feel,  the  powers  of  hell  fall.  Would 
to  God  I  had  health  and  strength,  I  would 
earnestly  pray  for  grace,  that  I  might  join, 
vigorously  join,  in  this  good  warfare.  But 
you  know,  I  am  like  a  bleeding,  disabled 
soldier,  and  oidy  not  slain.  I  hope,  how- 
ever, I  shall  rejoice  to  see  my  comrades 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


Rll 


roufing  the  foe,  and  reaping  their  laurels  ; 
rejoice  to  see  them  go  on,  conquering  and 
to  conquer  ;  though  no  longer  able  to  share, 
either  in  the  toils  or  the  triumphs  of  the  day. 

I  believe  it  will  be  no  easy  matter  to 
firocure  a  curate,  such  as  you  will  like  ;  at 
least,  none  such  offers  to  my  observation. 
I   heartily  wish  your  valuable  friend,    Mr. 

■ ,  that  faith  in  the  all-atoning  blood  of 

the  Laiul),  and  that  comfort  in  the  commu- 
nications of  the  Spirit,  which  may  sweetly 
outbalance  the  weight  of  any  sorrow,  and 
t-nable  him  to  rejoice  in  tribulation  ! 

Hemeniber,  now  you  are  a  minister  of 
God,  that  your  tongue  is  to  be  a  well  of 
life  :  you  are  to  believe  in  Christ,  daily  to 
cherish  your  faith  in  Jesus,  that  out  of  your 
heart  may  tlow  rivers  of  li\-ing  waters  ;  such 
tides  of  heavenly  and  healing  truths,  as  may 
refresh  the  fainting  soul,  and  animate  its 
feeble  graces. 

Please  to  present  my  affectionate  com- 
pliments to  IVIr.  C ,  and   I\Ir.  S ; 

engage  theii'  prayers  to  the  Father  of  com- 
passions in  my  behalf;  and  when  you  your- 
self draw  near  to  the  throne,  through  the 
blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant,  fail  not 
to  remember,  dear  sir,  yours  sincerely,  youi's 
unalterably,  &c. 


LETTER  LX. 

Wcston-Favell,  Sat.  evening. 

My  Dear  Fkiend, — This  morning  I 
received  your  parcel,  with  a  ticket  full  of 
the  affection  of  your  heart,  and  sprightli- 
ness  of  your  temper.  My  healtli  languish- 
es, but  it  is  a  singular  mercy  that  it  is  not 
tortured  away  by  racking  pains.  I  would 
do  any  thing  to  repair  my  constitution,  and 
])rolong  my  life  ;  that,  if  it  should  please 
the  divine  Providence  to  renew  my  strength, 
1  might  devote  it  wholly  to  his  service,  and 
be  less  unprofitable  in  my  generation.  But 
irom  what  I  feel,  and  yet  cannot  describe, 
J  have  no  e.\j)ectation  of  this  kind. 

I  am  highly  delighted  with  Witsius  de 
Gieonomia  hV'deium  :  he  is  an  author  e.\- 
exactly  suited  to  my  taste  ;  so  perspicuous, 
so  elegant,  so  orthodox.  I  wish  such  a 
treasure  had  fallen  into  my  hands,  when  I 
studied  at  the  university. 

1  like  Mr.  's  spirit,  only  wish  it  was 

a  little  more  evangelical.  Let  us  so  act 
our  parts,  as,  &c.  Might  not  Tully  have 
said  the  same  ?  has  not  Seneca  said  as 
nuich  ?  Why  shoidd  not  Christ  Jesus  be 
the  foundation  of  our  hopes  ?  Is  it  less  ra- 
tional, less  comfortable,  to  say  with  St. 
Paul,  He  that  spared  not  Iiis  own  Son,  but 
gave  him  u])  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not 
with  liim  idso  freely  give  us  all  tilings  ? 


I  heartily  pity  our  Staffordshire  friend. 
Cheer  him,  speak  comfortably  to  him,  let 
not  the  consideration  of  his  circumstances 
increase  the  depression  of  his  spirits.  We 
will  never  abandon  him,  nor  suffer  him  to 
want,  so  long  as  we  have  any  thing  our- 
selves. I  said,  we  will  not  abandon  :  But 
how  jjoor  and  cold  the  consolation  arising 
from  this  succour  !  What  are  we  ?  impo- 
tence, misery,  sin  !  I  believe  he  loves  the 
Lord  Jesus,  flies  for  refuge  to  the  hope  set 
before  him  (Heb.  vi.  18,)  in  the  everlast- 
ing righteousness,  and  perfect  atonement  of 
Christ.  He  may  therefore  boldly  say,  and 
apply  to  himself  those  glorious  promises — 
1  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee  ; 
The  Lord  is  my  helper,  and  I  vnW  not  fear 
what  man  shall  do  unto  me,  Heb.  xiii.  5,  6. 
Present  my  tender  and  affectionate  compli- 
ments to  him. 

I  am  glad  you  have  invited  to  your  house 
that  eminent  friend  of  God,  and  dear  friend 

of  yours,»the  Rev.  Mr. ,   (for  such   I 

know  he  is.)  In  so  doing  you  certainly 
act  the  TO  ho(Tiii;,  and  I  cannot  but  think 
the  TO  ■r^'.Tov,  even  in  the  judgment  of  the 
world.  Thus  doing,  you  are  in  the  fashion  ; 
for  It  is  a  reigning  maxim  at  court,  (the 
court  of  the  blessed  and  only  ])otentate,  the 
King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords,)  "  Be 
not  forgetful  to  entertain  strangers."  And 
can  there  be  a  more  worthy  stranger  ? 
"  Let  the  elders  that  rule  well  be  counted 
worthy  of  double  honour,  especially  they 
who  labour  in  the  word  and  doctrine." 
You  know  who  it  is  that  says  of  his  faith- 
ful ministers,  "  He  that  receiveth  you,  re- 
ceiveth  me."  Gracious  and  adored  Re- 
deemer !  shall  we  not  receive  thee  into  our 
houses,  who,  for  our  sakes,  hadst  not  where 
to  lay  thy  blessed  head !  wast  an  exile  in 
Egy|>t ;  a  prisoner  at  the  bar  ;  a  corpse  in 
the  grave  !  Pray  for  me,  dear  friend,  that 
I  may  bow  my  poor  head  in  dutiful  resig- 
nation to  the  divine  will  ;  that  I  may  bless 
the  hand  and  kiss  the  rod  that  chastises  ; 
and  love  the  Lord  who  takes  away  the 
strength  of  my  body,  but  has  given  me  the 

blood  of  his  Son.      I  beseech  Mr.  to 

unite  his  supplication  with  yours  ;  for  I  am 
fearfid  lest  I  should  disgrace  the  gospel  in 
my  languishing  moments. 

Upon  a  repeated  review  of  the  Hints  you 
have  wrote  to  j)rom()te  the  cause  of  religion, 
I  do  not  see  how  to  imjjrove  them  :  ojdy 
exercise  your  talent ;  stir  up  the  gift  of 
God  by  a  zealous  use,  and  you  yourself  will 
be  the  best  improver  of  such  hints.  O ! 
let  us  work  while  the  day  lasts  ;  the  Judge 
is  at  the  door,  and  eternity  at  hand.  May 
we  watch  and  pray  always,  that  we  may  be 
found  worthy  to  stand  before  the  Son  of 
man  at  his  coining.  1  am  ever,  and  inoat 
affectionately  yours. 


812 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


LETTER  LXL 


]My  dear  Friend, — I  am  quite  ashamed 
to  be  found  so  dilatory  in  acknowledging 
your  welcome  letter ;  made  doubly  valuable 
by  bringing  with  it  the  judicious  observation 

of  Mr. Your  late  favour  has  hinted 

a  consideration,  which  will  always  pass  for 
some  excuse  with  my  compassionate  friends; 
and  which,  so  long  as  this  earthly  taberna- 
cle is  upheld  from  falling  into  the  dust,  I 
shall  always  have  to  allege  :  I  mean,  a  very 
languid  and  disordered  state  of  body.  And 
as  I  number  you  amongst  my  truly  compas- 
sionate friends,  I  look  upon  myself  to  be 
acquitted  as  soon  as  arraigned. 

I  entirely  agree  with  Mr.  ,  in  his 

remarks  on  my  lord  bishop's  well-meant  and 
pathetic  letter.  It  is  pity,  and  it  is  strange, 
that  in  an  earnest  exhortation  to  repentance, 
no  regard  should  be  had  to  Christ  Jesus. 
Is  it  not  his  gift  to  impotent  sinners,  who 
is  exalted  to  l)e  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour,  to 
give  repentance  and  remission  of  sins  ?  Is  not 
his  precious,  but  bitter  passion,  the  exciting 
cause  of  evangelical  repentance  ;  according 
to  the  testimony  of  the  prophet,  They  shall 
look  on  him  whom  they  have  pierced,  and 
mourn  ?  And  can  our  poor  imperfect  re- 
pentance find  favour  in  the  sight  of  the 
Lord,  unless  it  be  accepted  in  the  Beloved  ? 

I  am  as  much  pleased  with  that  ingeni- 
ous writer's  observations  on  my  owti  little 
volumes.  Let  the  righteous  smite  me 
friendly,  and  reprove  me.  With  thankful- 
ness I  shall  receive,  with  readiness  submit 
to  correction.    I  am  very  far  from  thinking 

Mr.  a  sour  critic.      On  the  contrai7, 

I  admire  his  candour  in  transmitting  the 
mistakes  to  the  author  himself,  and  not 
trumpeting  them  abroad  to  the  discredit  of 
the  work.  I  liave  so  high  an  opinion  of 
his  judgment,  that  if  the  Father  of  lights 
should  enable  me  to  finish  the  small  piece 
I  am  attempting,  I  should  be  extremely 
glad  to  have  every  sheet  pass  under  the 
correction  of  so  wise  and  penetrating  an 
observer. 

To  call  Sisera's  mother  a  Midianitish 
lady,  is  a  most  undoubted  and  palpable 
blunder.  If  the  divine  Providence  pleases 
to  give  another  edition  to  the  book,  it  shall 
certainly  be  altered. 

As  to  the  frontispiece,  there  was  great 
doubt  whether  I  should  have  any  at  all.  It 
was  first  drawn  Math  a  direct  crucifix,  such 
as  is  represented  in  the  Romish  churches, 
and  almost  idolized,  I  fear,  by  the  Chris- 
tians of  that  communion.  For  this  reason 
the  decoration,  though  sketched  out  by  my 
very  obliging  draughtsman,  was  wholly 
omitted  in  the  second  edition.  Then  it 
was  suggested  that  a  piece  of  machinery 


might  succeed — be  equally  expressive  and 
yet  unexceptionable,  which  is  the  import  of 
the  present  figure  ;  our  Lord,  not  portray- 
ed in  the  window,  nor  exhibited  in  imagery, 
but  rising  from  the  spot,  or  miraculously 
appearing  in  the  place. 

With  regard  to  my  callihg  those  persons 
who  took  up  arms  against  KingCharles  I.  re- 
bels ;  you  know  it  is  the  avowed  tenet  of  the 
Church  of  England,  and  the  declared  sense 
of  our  legislators.  If  I  was  to  alter  that 
ex])ression,  especially  since  it  has  stood  so 
long,  it  might  probably  disgust  readers  who 
are  in  a  contrary  way  of  thinking  ;  at  least 
it  would  give  occasion  for  speculation,  and 
stir  up  the  embers  of  mutual  animosity, 
which,  I  hope,  are  now  sleeping,  and  upon 
the  point  of  being  extinguished.  For  my 
part,  I  look  upon  King  Charles  as  one  of 
the  best  men  that  ever  filled  a  throne  ;  and 
esteem  the  Puritans  as  some  of  the  most 
zealous  Christians  that  evei-y  appeared  in 
our  land.  Instead  of  inveighing  against 
either,  I  would  lament  the  misfortune  of 
both ;  that,  through  some  deplorable  mis- 
management, they  knew  one  another  no 
better,  and  valued  one  another  no  more. 
Otherwise,  how  happy  might  they  have 
been  !  they,  in  so  devout  a  sovereign  ;  he, 
in  such  conscientious  subjects. 

Washing  away  sins  by  baptism  is  a  scrip- 
tural expression  :  "  And  now,"  says  Ana- 
nias to  the  converted  persecutor,  "  why  tar- 
riest  thou  ?  Arise,  and  be  baptized,  and 
wash  away  thy  sins."  Where,  I  suppose, 
washing  with  water,  which  is  the  sign,  is 
put  for  the  application  of  the  Lamb's  blood, 
which  is  the  blessing  signified.  This,  I 
apprehend,  extends  to  native  impurity,  as 
well  as  committed  iniquity,  since  they  both 
render  us  children  of  wrath.  Not  that  it 
implies  an  extirpation  of  original  corruption, 
but  refers  to  its  condemning  power  ;  which 
is  done  away  when  the  atoning  merits  of 
Christ's  death  are  applied  and  sealed  to  the 
soul.  Upon  the  whole,  I  think  the  expres- 
sion is  justifiable.  Yet  if  Mr. 's  re- 
monstrance had  come  sooner,  it  would  have 
been  more  explicit  in  its  meaning,  and  more 
guarded  from  possibility  of  mistake  :  And 
was  I  called  upon  to  explain  my  sentiments, 

I  should  take  leave  to  borrow  Mr. 's 

words. 

Please  to  present  my  most  afltctionate 
compliments  to  him  ;  and  let  him  know,  I 
acknowledge  myself  obliged  to  him  for  his 
valuable  remarks,  and  shall  be  still  more 
obliged,  if  he  pleases  sometimes  to  remem- 
ber me  in  his  efl!ectual  fervent  prayers ; 
that  I  may,  though  weak  in  body,  be  strong 
in  faith  ;  giving  glory,  by  a  thankful  resigna- 
tion, and  comfortable  hope,  to  God  our 
Saviour.  I  hope  he  intends  to  publish  his 
discourse  upon  the  Christian   Sabbath.      I 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


813 


think  such  a  treatise  is  not  a  little  wanted. 
I  have  seen  nothing  upon  the  subject  that 
has  given  me  satisfaction. 

Transmit   my  most  cordial  affection  to 

good   Mr.   ;   I   dearly  love   him,  and 

rejoice  in  the  expectation  of  meeting  him 
in  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  glorious 
Redeemer.  How  inconsiderable,  what  a 
perfect  nothing,  is  the  difference  of  preach- 
ing in  a  cloak  or  in  a  gown,  since  we  both 
hold  the  Head,  both  are  united  to  the  same 
Saviour,  and  have  access  by  the  same  Spirit 
to  the  Father.  I  assure  him  his  name  has 
been  cronstaiitly  mentioned  in  my  poor  in- 
tercessions, ever  since  he  favoured  me  with 
his  friendly  and  edifying  epistle.  Tell 
him,  I  am  making  some  faint  attempts  to 
recommend  to  the  world  a  doctrine  which 
is  music  to  his  ears,  and  better  than  a  cor- 
dial to  his  heart — the  rigliteousness  of  Im- 
mamiel,  freely  imputed  to  wretched  sinners, 
for  their  complete  justification  and  ever- 
lasting acceptance.  I  would  also  rejjresent, 
in  an  amiable  and  endearing  light,  that 
other  precious  privilege  of  the  gospel,  saiic- 
tification  of  our  hearts,  and  newness  of 
life,  through  the  power  of  the  blessed 
Spirit ;  and  give,  if  the  Lord  should  enable, 
a  pleasing  picture  of  death,  stripped  of  his 
hoiTors,  and  appearing  as  an  usher,  com- 
missioned by  the  court  of  heaven,  to  intro- 
duce us  before  the  Prince  of  the  kings  of 
the  earth.  Beseech  my  worthy  friend  to 
assist  me  with  his  prayers  to  the  Father  of 
mercies  and  Fountain  of  light,  that  if  I 
write,  it  may  not  be  I,  but  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  that  writeth  by  me,  enab- 
ling blindness  itself  to  find  out  acceptable 
words,  and  to  hit  the  avenues  of  pleasure 
and  conviction. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  the  second  part  of 
Sunday  Thoughts   is  come  abroad.      Pray 

do  not  fail  to  let   Mr.  have   six  sets 

for  me  before  Thursday  morning  ;  because 
he  has  another  parcel  to  transmit  to  me 
this  week,  in  which  those  may  with  conve- 
nience be  enclosed.  You  have  paid  me  an 
obliging  compliment :  beg  of  the  blessed 
God,  dear  sir,  that  I  may  not  be  puffed  up 
with  vain  conceit  of  myself  or  my  writings. 
O  that  earth  and  ashes,  that  guilt  and  sin 
should  be  proud  !  What  so  umcasonable  ? 
yet  what  so  natural?  May  the  Lord  of 
glory  rebuke  tiiis  arrogant  spirit,  and 
teach  my  soul  to  be  humble,  to  be  ever- 
more dependent  on  his  aid  as  a  weaned 
child. 

As  to  your  entering  into  holy  orders,  I 
have  no  manner  of  doubt — by  all  means  do 
it.  It  is  what  I  have  been  praying  for  these 
several  years  ;  it  is  wluit  all  the  disciples  of 
<  'hrist  are  directed  to  imjilore  at  the  Lord's 
hand,   that  he  would  send   many  such  la- 


bourers  into  his  vineyard.  As  God  has 
inclined  your  heart  to  the  work,  as  he  has 
given  you  so  clear  a  knowledge  of  the  truth 
as  it  is  in  Jesu.s,  and  stirred  you  up  to  be 
zealous  for  the  interests  of  a  bleeding  Sa- 
viour; I  assure  you,  if  the  king  would 
make  me  a  bishop,  one  of  the  first  acts  of 
my  episcopal  ofhce  should  be  to  ordain  the 
author  of  Simday  Thoughts.  I  hope  the 
Lord  will  guide  you  with  his  Spirit,  will 
commission  you  to  feed  his  flock,  and  make 
you  a  chosen  instrument  of  bringing  many 
sinners  to  Christ,  many  sons  unto  gloiy. 
Pray  do  not  think  your  letters  are  trouble- 
some ;  they  are  always  pleasing,  always 
cheering  to,  dear  sir,  your  very  sincere,  and 
truly  affectionate  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  LXn. 

My  Dear  FiirEND,  sent  me  some 

time  ago  your  translation  of  Zimmerman- 
nus.  I  was  so  engaged  in  urgent  business, 
that  I  really  had  not  leisure,  and  so  oppress- 
ed with  bodily  weakness,  that  I  had  not 
ability  to  undertake  the  office  of  comparing 
it  with  the  original.  I  added  my  solicita- 
tions to  yours,   and  pressed to  revise, 

and,  if  need  be,  correct  the  maimscript ; 
and  I  would  beg  of  you,  my  dear  friend,  not 
to  be  hasty  in  publishing.  In  this  affair,  I 
am  for  following  the  example  of  Fabius, 
Cunctando  restituit  rem. 

If  I  have  not  been  punctual  in  answering 
your  letter,  ascribe  it  to  the  usual,  which 
is  indeed  the  true  cause ;  I  mean  to  a 
failure  of  strength,  and  languor  of  spirits, 
which  both  disincline  and  disqualify  me  for 
every  thing.  The  winter  has  made  me  a 
prisoner.  I  have  not  been  any  farther 
than  the  church  these  two  months.  May 
you  aiul  all  the  ministers  of  the  blessed 
Jesus  be  anointed  with  the  Holy  Ghost 
and  with  power  !  May  you,  in  imitation 
of  our  divine  Master,  go  about  doing  much 
spiritual  good,  and  shedding  abroad  the 
savour  of  his  most  precious  name.  O  that 
I  had  strength  !  I  would  then  pray  ear- 
nestly that  I  might  go  and  do  likewise. 

Since  it  is  represented  that  I  have  en- 
gaged to  preface  the  translation  of  Zim- 
meruianiuis,  I  will  not  balk  the  expecta- 
tions of  my  valued  friend,  though  I  assure 
you  I  shall  address  myself  to  it  with  some 
trei)idation  ;  sensible  that  it  will  carry  too 
assuming  au  air,  and  seem  as  though,  from 
being  an  obliged  author,  I  should  take  upon 
me  to  act  as  dictator,  and  direct  the  public 
in  their  choice  of  books. — Yours  affection- 
ately, &c. 


814 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


LETTER  LXIIL 


My  dear  FiUEND, — I  received  your  let- 
ter ;  am  sorry  to  hear  you  have  been  ill, 
heartily  wish  you  a  re-establishment  of  your 
health,  and  shall  be  glad,  when  it  suits  your 
iiielination  and  conveniency,  to  see  you  at 
Weston. 

I  am  glad  you  are  beginning  to  catechize 
your  children.  I  hope  you  will  be  enabled 
to  feed  Christ's  lambs,  and  dis])ense  to  them 
the  milk  of  the  word,  as  they  may  be  able 
to  bear  it.  Indeed  you  apply  to  a  wrong 
person  for  advice.  I  make  some  efforts,  it 
is  true,  to  discharge  this  duty,  but  not  to  my 
own  satisfaction ;  and  great  will  be  the 
glory  of  divine  grace,  if  it  is  to  the  edifica- 
tion of  my  people.  My  time  for  catechiz- 
ing is  during  the  summer ;  when  the  days 
are  long,  and  the  weather  is  warm.  But  I 
think  you  do  right  to  conform  to  the  usual 
custom  of  catechizing  in  Lent. 

My  method  is  to  ask  easy  questions,  and 
teach  the  children  very  short  and  easy  an- 
swers. The  Lord's  prayer  was  the  last 
subject  of  our  explanation.  In  some  such 
manner  I  proceeded  : — Why  is  this  prayer 
called  the  Lord's  prayer  ?  Because  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  taught  it  us.  Why  is  Christ 
called  our  Lord?  Because  he  bought  us 
with  his  blood.  Why  does  he  teach  us  to 
call  God  Father  ?  That  we  may  go  to  him 
as  children  to  a  father.  How  do  children 
go  to  a  Father  ?  With  faith,  not  doubting 
but  he  will  give  them  what  they  want.  Why 
our  feather  in  heaven  ?  That  we  may  pray 
to  him  with  reverence.  What  is  meant  by 
God's  name  ?  God  himself  and  all  his  per- 
fections. What  by  hallowed  ?  That  he 
may  be  honoured  and  glorified-  How  is 
God  to  be  honoured  ?  In  our  hearts,  with 
our  tongues,  and  by  our  lives,  &c.  &:c. 

On  each  question  I  endeavour  to  com- 
prehend, not  all  that  may  be  said,  but  that 
only  which  may  be  most  level  to  their  ca- 
pacities, and  is  most  necessary  for  them  to 
know.  The  answer  to  each  question  I  ex- 
plain in  the  most  familiar  manner  possible  ; 
such  a  manner,  as  a  polite  hearer  might  per- 
haps treat  with  the  most  sovereign  contempt. 
Little  similes  I  use,  that  are  quite  low, 
fetched  non  ex  academia,  sed  e  trivio.  In 
eveiy  explanation  I  would  be  short,  but  re- 
peat it  again  and  again.  Tautology,  in  this 
case,  is  the  true  propriety  of  speaking ;  and 
to  our  little  auditors,  the  crambe  repelita  will 
be  better  than  all  the  graces  of  eloquence. 

1  propose  to  explain  to  them  princii)ally 
the  creed,  the  Lord's  prayer,  and  the  com- 
mandments. What  relates  to  the  two  sa- 
craments, at  present,  I  do  not  attempt  to  set 
before  them  ;  let  them  first  have  some  to- 
lerable notion  of  the  former.  I  fancy  you 
h.id  better  proceed  in  the  same  method.    If 


I  know  your  sentiments  about  baptisnm 
aright,  with  which  our  catechism  begins,  I 
should  apj)rehend  it  would  be  most  prudent 
to  go  immediately  to  the  great  fundamen- 
tals. However,  pray  to  the  Lord,  whose 
work  you  work  ;  and  he  who  is  all -wise  will 
direct  you,  he  who  is  all-powerful  will  ])ros- 
per  you.  Pray  give  my  very  affectionate 
compliments  to .  Through  the  ever- 
lasting righteousness  of  our  Redeemer,  I 
hope  to  meet  them  in  the  world  of  glory ; 
and  there  he  that  is  feeble  will  be  as  David 
Yours  sincerely,  &c. 


LETTER  LXIV. 

Weston-Favell,  April  5,  1 750. 

Dear  Sir, — When  you  meditate  on 
Hosea  iv.  6,  7,  [namely,  ''  My  people  are 
destroyed  for  lack  of  knowledge  :  because 
thou  hast  rejected  knowledge,  I  will  also 
reject  thee,  that  thou  shall  be  no  priest  to 
me  :  seeing  thou  hast  forgotten  the  law  of 
thy  God,  I  will  also  forget  thy  children. 
As  they  were  increased,  so  they  sinned 
against  me  ;  therefore  will  I  change  their 
glory  into  shame  ;]  when,  I  say,  you  medi- 
tate on  this  terrifying  text,  compare  it  with 
Hosea  xi.  8,  9;  xiii.  9,  12;  xiv.  1,  2; 
[namely,  "  How  shall  I  give  thee  up, 
Ephraim  ?  how  shall  I  deliver  thee,  Israel? 
how  shall  I  make  thee  as  Admah  ?  how 
shall  I  set  thee  as  Zeboim  ?  ]\Iine  heart 
is  turned  within  me,  my  repentings  are 
kindled  together.  I  will  not  execute  the 
fierceness  of  mine  anger,  I  will  not  return 
to  destroy  Ephraim  ;  for  I  am  God,  and 
not  man,  the  Holy  One  in  the  midst  of" 
thee,"]  Hosea  xi.  8,  9. 

In  the  next  passage,  Christ  shows  the 
only  remedy  for  our  misery  ;  [namely,  "  O 
Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself,  but  in 
ME  is  thine  help.  The  iniquity  of  Ephraim 
is  bound  up,  his  sin  is  hid,"]  Hosea  xiii.  9, 
12. 

In  tlie  last  passage  is  prescribed  the  me- 
thod  of  applying  the  remedy  to  your  own 
soul ;  [namely,  "  O  Israel,  return  unto  the 
Lord  thy  God,  for  thou  hast  fallen  by  thine 
iniquity.  Take  with  you  words,  and  turn 
to  the  Lord  ;  say  ur.to  him.  Take  away  all 
iniquity,  and  receive  us  graciously  ;  so  will 
we  render  the  calves  of  our  lips,"]  (or  spi- 
ritual sacrifices  of  the  heart,  not  calves  with 
horns  and  hoofs,)  Hosea  xiv.  1,  2. 

Pray  take  these  texts  into  frequent  con- 
sideration, or  else  you  will  do  a  threefold 
injury,  viz.  to  the  divine  mercies;  to  the 
Redeemer's  merits ;  to  your  own  com- 
fort. 

Be  it  that  guilt  is  great ;  yet,  is  it  bound- 
less ?  is  it  iiitinite  like  the  kindness  of  God 
through  Christ  ?    Remember  what  message 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


815 


our  Lord  sent  to  Peter  after  his  fall ;  what 
offers  he  made  at  Jerusalem  after  it  had 
murdered  the  Prince  of  peace  ;  how  emi- 
nently useful  and  happy  he  made  David, 
after  the  commission  of  enormous  crimes. 
He  is  the  same  gracious,  long-suffering,  sin- 
forgiving  God,  to-day,  yesterday,  and  for 
ever. 

Beware,  dear  sir,  that  you  add  not  unbe- 
lief (the  greatest  of  sins,  the  most  provok- 
ing of  sins,  the  most  destructive  of  sins)  to 
all  your  other  offences.  We  have  trampled 
tipon  the  divine  laws,  and  defiled  our  own 
souls  ;  but  let  us  not  charge  the  divine  de- 
claration with  FALSEHOOD,  let  us  not  make 
God  a  LiAK.  I  am  sure  God  loves  you, 
and  Christ  intercedes  for  you ;  else  whence 
this  searching  of  your  heart,  thi-  acknow- 
ledgment of  guilt,  this  self-condemnation, 
and  thirst  after  pardoning  and  sanctifying 
grace. 

Another  proof,  to  me  a  very  evident  and 
pregnant  proof,  that  the  blessed  God  has  a 
very  tender  and  particular  concern  for  your 
eternal  welfare,  is  his  disconcerting  your 
schemes ;  than  which  nothing,  I  think, 
could  be  more  effectually  calculated  to  waft 
you  along  the  smooth  stream  of  insensibi- 
lity and  pleasure  into  the  pit  of  perdition. 

Let  this,  though  a  thorn  in  the  flesh,  be 
a  token  for  good.  He  that  has  begun  to 
rescue  you  will  accomplish  his  gracious  pur- 
pose. Ere  long  I  tnist  this  new  song  will 
be  put  into  your  mouth,  "  The  snare  is 
broken,  and  I  am  delivered,"  Psalm  cxxiv. 
7.  Be  of  good  comfort,  dear  sir,  for  with 
the  Lord  there  is  mercy  and  plenteous  re- 
demption, Psal.  cxxx.  7. 

Read  by  way  of  consolation,  Manasseh's 
humiliation,  2  Chron.  xxxiii.  12,  IS.  And 
see  likewise  God's  gracious  dealings,  even 
with  Rehoboam  himself,  2  Chron.  xii.  6,  7. 

Do  not  indulge  dispiriting  ideas,  or  have 
hard  thoughts  of  the  God  of  everlasting 
compassion  :  Oh  how  weak  is  our  faith  ! 
Read  and  study  well  that  excellent  and 
comfortable  little  tract,  Liborius*  Zimmer- 
miinnus  de  emincrdia  coynitionis  Christi.  Con  • 
verse  with  some  experienced  Christians, 
and  remember  what  our  blessed  Saviour  has 
promised,  "  Where  two  or  three  are  ga- 
thered together  in  my  name,  there  am  1  in 
the  midst  of  them.  We  never  make  any 
doubt  but  our  friends  (especially  if  they  be 
the  distinguished  servants  of  Jesus)  will 
fulfil  their  promises  ;  yet  we  question  (fie 
upon  us,  fie  upon  us  for  our  unbelief)  whe- 
ther the  divine  ]\Iaster  himself  will  accom- 
plish  his  word  ! 

1  am,  dear  sir,  with  much  esteem,  and 
with  much  concern  for  your  present  and 
eternal  welfare,  yours  very  sincerely,  &c. 

*  See  Letter  L.V.XII. 


LETTER  LXV- 


Weston. Favell,  Mm/  27,  1 750. 
Dear  Sister, — The  country  is  now  in 
its  ])erfection.  Every  bush  a  nosegay,  all 
the  ground  a  piece  of  embroiderj' ;  on  each 
tree  the  voice  of  melody,  in  every  grove  a 
concert  of  warbling  music.  The  air  is  en- 
riched with  native  perfumes,  and  the  whole 
creation  seems  to  smile.  Such  a  pleasing 
improving  change  has  taken  place  ;  because, 
as  the  Psalmist  expresses  it,  God  has  sent 
forth  his  Spirit,  and  renewed  the  face  of  the 
earth.  Such  a  refining  change  takes  place 
in  mankind,  when  God  is  pleased  to  send 
his  Holy  Spirit  into  the  heart.  Let  us 
therefore  humbly  and  earnestly  seek  the 
influences  of  this  divine  Spirit.  All  our 
sufficiency  is  from  this  divine  Spirit  dwell- 
ing in  our  hearts,  and  working  in  us  both 
to  will  and  to  do.  Without  his  aids,  we  are 
nothing,  we  have  nothing,  we  can  do  no- 
thing. AVould  we  believe  in  Christ  to  the 
saving  of  our  souls  ?  we  must  receive  power 
from  on  high,  and  be  enabled  by  this  divine 
Spirit ;  for  no  man  can  say,  that  Jesus  is 
the  Lord,  or  exercise  true  faith  on  his 
merits,  but  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  Would 
we  be  made  like  unto  Christ?  It  can  be 
done  only  by  this  divine  Spirit.  We  are 
transformed  into  the  same  image,  says  the 
apostle,  not  by  any  ability  of  our  own,  but 
by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord.  Would  we  be 
set  on  the  right  hand  of  our  Judge  at  the 
last  day  ?  This  is  the  mark  that  will  dis- 
tinguish us  from  the  reprobates,  and  num- 
ber us  with  his  faithful  jieople.  For  unless 
a  man,  unless  a  wonian,  have  the  Spirit  of 
Christ,  they  are  none  of  his.  But,  since 
we  infinitely  need  this  enlightening  and 
sanctifying  Spnit,  is  the  God  of  heaven 
equally  willing  to  give  it  ?  He  is  ;  indeed 
he  is.  To  obtain  this  gift  for  us  sinners,  his 
own  Son  bled  to  death  on  the  cross.  That 
we  may  be  made  partakers  of  this  gift,  he 
intercedeth  at  the  right  hand  of  his  Father ; 
and  he  has  passed  his  word,  he  has  given 
us  a  solemn  promise,  that  if  we  ask,  we 
shall  receive  it.  See,  remember,  and  often 
plead  in  prayer,  Luke  xi.  \'i.  From  your 
affectionate  brother,  &c. 


LETTER  LXVL 

June  28,  1750. 
My  dear  Friend, — If  you  chide,  I  must 
accuse.  Pray  where  was  your  warrant, 
where  your  commission  to  impress  me  into 
this  journey  ?  However,  as  becomes  a  good 
Christian,  I  forgive  you  and  your  accom- 
jjlice . 


816 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS, 


At  St.  Alban's  I  was  weary  and  dispirit- 
ed ;  was  loth,  could  not  prevail  on  myself 
to  desire  Dr.  Cotton's  company  at  the  inn, 
and  was  scarce  able  to  crawl  to  his  house. 
Believe  me,  I  sincerely  honour,  and  cor- 
dially love,  the  worthy  doctor.  Though  I 
am  naturally  shy,  I  should  want  no  solicita- 
tions to  wait  on  so  very  ingenious  and  im- 
proving a  friend  ;  a  pleasure  I  promise  my- 
self, if  Providence  brings  me  back  alive. 
We  got  to  London  about  three  o'clock  on 
Saturday.  I  took  up  my  lodgings,  not  at 
my  brother's  after  the  flesh,  but  with  the 
brother  of  my  heart.  On  Sunday  he  preach- 
ed with  his  usual  fervour,  and  administered 
the  sacrament  to  a  great  number  of  very 
serious  communicants.  He  delights  in  the 
work  of  the  ministry,  and  embraces  eveiy 
opportunity  of  preaching  the  everlasting 
gospel.  He  is  indeed  in  labours  more  abun- 
dant. Dear  sir,  what  a  pattern  of  zeal,  and 
ministerial  fidelity,  is  our  excellent  friend  ! 
and  God  rewards  him  with  joy  unspeakable. 
God  also  fulfils  to  him,  iii  a  remarkable 
manner,  his  gracious  promise,  "  They  that 
honour  me,  1  will  honour."  This  day  he 
was  most  respectfully  entertained  at  the 
houses  of  two  noblemen.  What  a  most 
exalted  satisfaction  must  he  enjoy  in  attend- 
ing these  great  personages,  not  to  cringe 
for  favours,  but  to  lay  upon  them  an  ever- 
lasting obligation  ;  not  to  ask  their  interests 
at  court,  but  to  be  the  minister  of  their  re- 
conciliation to  the  King  of  kings  !  Thus 
far  was  wrote  on  Sunday  night,  but  was 
hindered  from  finishing  soon  enough  for  the 
post — Monday  morning  :  Yesterday  our 
indefatigable  friend  renewed  his  labour  of 
love,  and  with  such  assiduity,  that  I  had 
not  spirits  to  attend  what  he  had  strength 
to  execute.  He  preached  to  a  crowded 
audience,  and  yet  multitudes  went  away  for 
want  of  room.  In  the  midst  of  this  au- 
dience was  a  clergyman  in  his  canonical 
dress,  a  stranger ;  his  name  I  could  not 
learn ;  he  behaved  with  exemplaiy  serious- 
ness, and  expressed  much  satisfaction.  One 
day  last  week  I  was  most  agreeably  sur- 
prised. Drinking  tea  at  a  friend's  house, 
a  person  knocked  at  the  door ;  the  servant 
brought  word  that  it  was  a  stranger,  who 
desired  to  speak  with  Mr.  Hervey.  And 
who  do  you  think  it  was  ?  One  whom  I 
tenderly  love,  but  never  expected  to  see 
again.  It  was  the  accomplished  and  amia- 
ble   Mr.  .      We    took    sweet  counsel 

together  at  Gaius,  mine  host's,  and  wished 
one  another  a  happy  meeting  in  the  world 
of  glory.  My  fellow-traveller  saw  your 
letter,  and  bid  me  tell  you,  that  if  you  are 
chained  to  the  oar,  the  chains  are  of  your 
own  making.  Dear  sir,  preach  the  glorious 
pospel.  Be  an  ambassador  of  the  most 
high  God-  Devote  yourself  to  this  most 
important,    mot.t   noble    service,   and    your 


divine  Master,  I  hope,  will  funiish  you  with 
employ,  and  open  a  door  for  your  useful- 
ness. The  fruit  of  such  labours  will  abide, 
and  our  friend  is  a  proof  in  what  peace,  in 
what  joy,  they  are  sown-  My  animal  na- 
ture is  so  very,  very  feeble,  that  I  find  no 
benefit  from  the  change  of  air,  nor  from  the 
enjoyment  of  the  most  pleasing  society. 
Ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LXVIL 

London,  Sept.  4,  1750- 

Dear    Sir, — Our  dear  friend   is 

much  engaged  in  making  interest  to  succeed 

the  minister  of ,  who,  though  not  stone 

dead,  is  ill  enough  to  alarm  the  hopes  of 
neighbouring  preachers.  O  that  we  may 
every  one  contend  who  shall  bring  most 
glory  to  the  crucified  King  of  heaven,  and 
love  most  ardently  his  all- gracious  and  in- 
finitely amiable  Majesty !  A  strife  this, 
which  wall  not  foment,  but  destroy  malig- 
nant passions  ;  in  which  strife  angels  will 
be  our  competitors,  honour  and  joy  the  ever- 
lasting prize. 

I  wish  our  dear  friend  H the  rich 

anointings  of  God's  Spirit  in  composing, 
and  the  powerful  presence  of  God's  Spirit 
in  delivering  his  infirmary  sermon.  My 
most  cordial  love  is  ever  his,  and  ever  yours. 
Thank  you  I  do  sincerely,  for  your  pray- 
ers to  God  in  my  behalf ;  and  oh  how  shall 
I  thank  sufficiently  him  who  procured  access 
for  us  through  his  blood !  We  often  re- 
member you,  and  wish  and  pray  that  you 
may  be  a  burning  and  a  shining  light  in  your 
generation.     Dear  friend,  adieu* 


LETTER  LXVIII. 

Sept.n,\loO.  ' 
My  dear  Frienb, — I  received  yoi>r 
last  favour.  It  was  without  date,  but  very 
welcome.  We  have  lost  our  zealous  friend 
for  several  days.  He  has  been  displaying 
the  banner  of  the  gospel  at ,  and  gath- 
ering together  the  dispersed  of  Israel.  We 
admire  the  hero  that  wins  battles,  takes 
towns,  and  leaves  trophies  of  his  victories 
in  every  place.  But  where  will  all  such 
toils,  and  the  very  remembrance  of  them 
be,  when  the  monuments  of  his  labours  en- 
dure for  ever  in  heaven  ? 

Thanks  for  your  subscription  :  I  have 
procured  more  of  another  friend.  I  shall 
soon  be  a  poor  man,  here  are  so  many  ne- 
cessitous objects-  And  who  can  bear  to 
be  in  affluence,  while  so  many  fellow-crea- 
tures are  in  deplorable  want?  Especially 
if  we  remember  him,  who,  though  he  was 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


rioli,  for  our  gake  Ijccame  poor ;  uiid  had 
not  wli^re  ( O  marvellous,  marvtlious  abase- 
ment!) had  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 

This  night  dear   Mr. is   with   us  ; 

returned  from  his  expedition,  full  of  life, 
and  rich  with  spoils  ;  spoils  won  from  the 
kingdom  of  darkness,  and  consecrated  to 
the  CajJtain  of  our  salvation.  I  have  been 
prevailed  on  to  sit  for  my  picture.  If  ever 
portrait  was  the  shadow  of  a  shadow,  mine 
is  such.  O  that  I  may  be  renewed  after 
the  amiable  image  of  the  blessed  Jesus  ! 
and  when  I  awake  up  after  his  likeness,  I 
shall  be  satisfied  with  it :  'J'his  wish  is 
breathed  in  a  language  to  me  unusual.  I 
generally  conijjrehend  my  dear  friend  in  such 
petitions,  and  make  his  eternal  interests  in- 
separable from  my  own. 

On  Sunday  I  heard  the  admired  Mr. . 

His  text  was  Rom.  v.  L  ;  his  doctrine  evati- 
gelical.  The  faith  which  purifies  the  heart, 
and  works  by  love ;  the  imputed  righteous- 
ness of  Jesus  Christ,  comprehending  both 
his  active  and  passive  obedience  ;  the  ope- 
ration of  the  blessed  Spirit  in  producing  this 
sound  and  lively  faith,  were  the  substance 
of  his  discourse.  1  commit  you,  my  dear 
friend,  to  the  tender  mercies  of  our  God, 
and  the  powerful  word  of  his  grace  ;  remain- 
ing inviolably  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LXIX. 

London,  Oct.  23,  1750. 
My  dk  ar  Friend, — As  your  stay  in  town 
was  so  short,  we  could   not  expect  to  see 
you.      On    Sunday  afternoon   yoiu'  old  ac- 
quaintance  Mr.  called   upon  me,  sat 

about  an  hour,  inquired  after  you,  and  talk- 
ed as  became  the  Christian  character,  and 
the  sacred  day.  The  conversation  was  per- 
fectly pleasing ;  but  the  subjects,  whether 
we  were  led  to  them  by  chance,  or  directed 
to  them  by  Providence,  were  peculiarly 
noble  and  important.  "  I  know  that  my 
lledecmer  liveth,"  &c.  Job  xix.  "  Behold 
my  servant   shall  deal   i)ruik'ntly,"  &c.  Jsa. 

lii.      ^Ve  expect  to  see  om-  dear  friend 

in  a  little  lime.  O  that  we  may  meet  each 
other,  and  daily  converse  on  the  fulness  of 
the  blessings  of  the  gospel  of  peace  !     I  say 

no  more  about  poor  Mrs.  ;  perhaps 

my  concern  for  her  may  be  uncommoidy 
lender,  because  there  have  few  days  passed 
since  [  knew  her,  in  which  I  have  not  made 
mention  of  her  name  in  my  prayers  for  the 
jiHlicted.  May  the  God  of  wisdom  teach 
you,  and  the  God  of  power  enable  you,  to 
do  always  such  things  us  are  accei)table  in 
his  sight,  through  Jesus  Christ.  And  may 
the  Fathei'  of  compassions  make  her  sorrows 


bring  forth  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteous- 
ness, and  issue  in  everlasting  joy  !      I  hope 

the  truly  valuable  Dr.  and   his  family 

took  knowledge  of  you,  that  you  had  been 
with  Christ-  Let  us  study,  let  us  labour, 
to  spread  abroad  the  savour  of  his  blessed 
name,  who  suffered  the  vengeance  due  to 
all — to  all  our  sins.  That  his  presence  may 
l)e  with  you,  and  his  love  be  in  you,  is  the 
invariable  wish  of  your  aifectionate,  &c. 


LETTER  LXX. 

London,  Nov.  15,  1750. 

My  de.^r  Fuiend, — I  have  communi- 
cated your  two  messages  to ;  he  is  now 

with    his  old  ac(]uaintance  at  .       On 

Sunday  he  preached  morning  and  afternoon 

at  L church.      May  his  word  prove  a 

seed  of  life  and  immortality  to  the  hearers. 

On  Tuesday  he  and  ]\Ir.  breakfasted 

with  us  :   the   talk   turned  principally  upon 

the  mystic  writers.    Dr. began  to  warm 

a  little    to   hear    Mr.  inveigh    pretty 

sharply  against  them  ;  but  by  giving  a  soft; 
answer,  and  making  considerable  conces- 
sions in  their  behalf,    Air.  cooled  and 

qualified  all.  He  spoke  with  remarkable 
command  of  temper,  and,  I  think,  with  great 
solidity  of  judgment.      I  wish  it  may  lessen 

our  valuable  friend  H 's  attachment  to 

those  authors,  which  I  believe  is  immode- 
rate, and  I  fear  is  pernicious.  I  heartily 
wish  your  children  may  recover,  and  live  to 
be  a  comfort  to  their  father,  an  honour  to 
their  religion.  I  have  received  Dr.  D— — 's 
remarks  ;  very  judicious,  and  equally  faith- 
ful. I  scarce  ktiow  any  friend  who  has  so 
true  a  taste,  and  so  much  sincerity.  Fiet 
Aristarchiis  is  the  character  he  deserves. 

Yesterday  a  serious  dissenter  from  the 
counti-y  came  to  see  me.  God  had  freed 
him  from  a  spirit  of  bigotry,  and  made  my 
book  acceptable  to  him.  O  that  we  may 
all  love  one  another,  and  bear  with  one  an- 
other !  so  fulfil  the  law,  and  follow  the  ex- 
ample of  Christ.  In  the  new  Jerusalem, 
that  city  of  the  living  God,  all  our  little 
differences  of  opinion,  as  well  as  all  the  re- 
mainders of  corruption,  will  fall  of.  In  the 
light  of  (iod's  countenance  we  shall  see  the 
truth  clearly,  and  enjoy  the  life,  the  life  of 
heaven  and  eternity  perfectly.  O  that  we 
may  love  that  amiable  and  adorable  Being 
every  day,  every  hour,  more  and  more  !  who, 
though  the  king  immortal  and  invisible, 
gave  his  own  Son  to  bleed  and  die  for 
worms,  for  rebels  ;  for  you,  my  dear  friend, 
and  for  your  unworthy,  but  tridy  aflfection- 
ate,  &c. 

3g 


M8 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


LETTER  LXXI. 


A^uv.  27,  1750. 
My  dear  Friend, — Present    my  veiy 
grateful  acknowledgments  to  our  obliging 

friend  Mr. I  rejoice  in  his  lines,  as 

they  are  a  pledge  of  his  affection  and  friend- 
ship ;  but  I  really  am  under  apprehensions 
from  them,  as  they  are  to  be  a  public  enco- 
mium on  my  character,  lest  they  should 
make  me  think  more  highly  of  myself  than 
I  ought  to  think.  O  !  may  the  high  and 
lofty  One,  who  inhabits  eternity,  and  dwells 
with  the  humble  heart,  vouchsafe  to  defend 
me  from  all  the  insinuations  of  pride.  To 
be  sure  this  is  a  trying  occasion  ;  for  laudari 
a  laudatis  is  no  common  honour.  I  would 
beg  leave  to  postpone  the  publication  of  the 
verses  till  the  mezzotinto  plate  is  finished, 
and  the  print  ready  to  be  sold  ;  because,  if 
such  a  reconmiendation  appears  at  such  a 
juncture,  I  am  persuaded  it  will  cause  a  de- 
mand for  the  picture,  and  further  its  sale. 
Good  heavens !  who  would  ever  have  thought 
that  so  mean  a  name,  and  so  obscure  a  per- 
son, should  appear  in  the  world  with  such 
an  air  of  signiticancy  ?  O  that  it  may  be 
for  the  glory  of  that  ever  blessed  and  ador- 
able Being,  who  manifests  his  transcendent 
excellency  most   chiefly  in   shewing  mercy. 

When  you  heard  of  's  death,   did  you 

not  immediately  think  of  the  prophet's  de- 
claration, "  All  flesh  is  grass,  and  all  the 
goodliness  thereof  as  the  flower  of  the 
field  ?"  Did  you  not  also  ardently  desire 
and  resolve  to  seek  for  an  assured  interest 
in  the  promises  of  that  word  which  endui'- 
eth  for  ever  ?  Jlay  the  God  of  grace  seal 
those  promises  to  our  hearts  by  his  blessed 
Spirit,  and  witness  with  our  spirits  that  we 
are  the  objects  of  his  love  and  heirs  of  his 
kingdom  ?  Then  we  may  defy  death,  and 
boldly  bid  the  king  of  terrors  do  his  worst. 

is  making  an   excursion  to and 

to May  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts  go 

forth  with  his  servant,  and  make  him  ter- 
rible to  the  infernal  enemy,  as  an  army  with 
banneis  ;  welcome  to  poor  sinners,  as  the 
refreshing  dews  after  parching  heat.  How 
my  soul  longs  to  be  employed  in  the  same 
sacred,  blessed  cause  !  Does  not  yours 
also  throb  with  the  same  desires  ?  I  can 
no  more.  Supper  waits  for  me.  Adieu. 
All  spiritual  blessings  be  multiplied  upon 
you,  and  ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LXXn. 

December  8,  1 750. 
My  dear  Friend, —  Why  do  you   say 
Zimmermannus  is  too  comfortable  for  you  ? 
The  comfort  of  Christianity  is,  the  sweet 


allurement  to  draw  us  to  heaven,  and  the 
powerful  instrument  to  fit  us  for  heaven. 
If  our  affections  are  attached  to  the  world, 
the  comfort  of  Christianity  is  ordained  to 
wean  us  from  its  vanities,  and  win  us  to 
God.  If  we  have  sinned,  the  love  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the  most  sovereign 
means  of  wounding  our  hearts,  and  bring- 
ing us  to  repentance.  When  Nathan  said 
unto  David,  "  The  Lord  hath  put  away  thy 
sin,  thou  shalt  not  die  ;"  then  it  is  supposed 
he  penned  the  32d  psalm,  and  poured  out 
his  soul  in  unreserved  confession.  When 
the  blessed  Jesus  turned  and  looked  upon 
Peter,  then  his  conscience  smote  him  deep  ; 
then  he  went  out  and  wept  bitterly.  And 
how  did  his  dear  Master  look?  was  it  a 
resentful,  upbraiding,  menacing  glance  ? 
Quite  the  reverse.  Is  this  your  promised 
fidelity  ?  this  your  kindness  for  your  friend  ' 
Ah,  Peter  !  Peter!  I  feel  more  from  your 
perfidy  than  from  all  the  insults  of  my  ene-  • 
mies.  But  I  know  your  weakness,  and  I 
am  going  to  die  for  your  guilt.  Willingly, 
willingly  I  lay  down  my  life,  that  this  sin 
may  never  be  laid  to  your  charge — Such 
was  the  language  of  that  gracious  look.  I 
do  not  wonder  that  it  fetched  a  flood  of 
tears  from  his  eyes.  I  find  it  impossible  to 
lefruin  on  the  bare  meditation  on  it.  O 
that  the  adorable  Redeemer  may  manifest 
his  all-forgiving  goodness  in  our  souls,  and 
sure  it  will  overcome  our  most  stubborn 
corruptions.       What    can   withstand    such 

heavenly  love?     I  know ;   and  think 

you  have  a  peculiar  privilege  in  having  op- 
portunity and  ability  to  succour  so  sincere  a 
Christian.  He  will  more  than  repay  you 
with  his  prayers.  Whatsoever  you  do  for 
him,  I  am  persuaded  will  be  done  unto 
Christ.  And  who  can  do  enough  for  him 
who  despised  the  shame,  and  endured  the 
cross  for  us?  Your  writing  paper  came 
safe  ;  and  1  would  have  returned  it  to  the 
stationer  as  too  coaa'se,  but  has,  since  its 
arrival,  been  seized ;  seized  in  the  king's 
name,  by  one  of  the  king's  ofiicers.  Pray, 
have  you  taken  care  to  pay  duty?  have  you 
not  been  deficient  in  some  instance  or  other? 
O,  said  Gaius  mine  host,  when  he  heard 
of  its  coming  back.  It  is  good  enough  for 
me  ;  it  will  just  suit  my  purpose  ;  1  wanted 
such  a  supply  :  S9  it  is  in  his  hands,  to  be 
employed  in  the  service  of  a  great  King, 
whose  name  you  can  guess,  whose  goodness 
you  have  experienced,  and  for  whose  honour, 
1  liope,  we  shall  all  be  very  zealous.  What 
say  you  ?  will  you  turn  the  forfeiture  into 
a  free  gift,  by  sending  your  full  consent  to 
the  deed  ?  Our  dear  friend  has  been  visited 
with  a  fever ;  attended  by  the  doctor  eveiy 
day  this  week  ;  but,  blessed  be  God  !  is, 
we  trust,  upon  the  eve  of  a  thorough  re- 
covery. He  talks  of  preaching  to-morrow, 
but  1  shall  use  mv  utmost  interest  to  dis- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


819 


suacle  liim.  Lot  him  desist  for  a  while, 
that  he  may  persist  for  a  long  season.      We 

have  but  a  small  share  of 's  eoinpany. 

O  that  we  may  meet  where  we  shall  part 
no  more,  sin  no  more !  Adieu !  Ever  yours, 
Ike. 


LETTER  LXXIII. 

Dec.  'JO,  1 7,;0. 

My  vf.hy  dfar  Fnii.Ni), —  Your  letter 
found  me,  after  a  considerable  delay  in  its 
passage,  where  do  you  think  ?  Where  I 
never  expected  to  go  any  more  ;  found  me 
at  London  !  From  whence  I  write  this,  and 
return  you  my  sincerest  thanks.  Prevailed 
on  by  the  repeated  importunity  of  my 
friends,  I  came  by  easy  stages  to  town,  in 
order  to  try  whether  change  of  air  may  be 
of  any  ser\ice  to  my  decayed  constitution  ; 

lor  my  worthy  pliysician    Dr.    S has 

decliued,    that  nothing  which  he  can  pre- 
scribe is  likely  to  administer  any  relief. 

I  have  reason  to  be  convinced,  from  the 
recounts  which  your  letter  brings,  and  from 
the  r('j)orts  which  I  receive  in  this  place, 
that  here  we  have  no  continuing  city. 
Thanks,  everlasting  tlianks  to  the  divine 
Goodness,  which  has  i)rej)ared  for  us  a 
mansion,  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in 
the  heavens ;  a  mansion  whose  builder, 
whose  maker,  and  whose  glory  is  God. 
Not  only  the  disappointment,  but  even  the 
acquisition  of  our  desires,  bespeaks  the 
emjitiness  of  the  world.  But  what  a  com- 
])l('te  felicity,  what  an  all-satisfying  portion, 
will  the  enjoyment  of  God  be  !  When  I 
awake  up  alter  thy  likeness,  (and  am  ad-  [ 
mitted  to  stand  in  thy  beatific  presence), 
I  shall  be  satisfied  with  it. 

I  pitied  as  I  lea-d  poor  Miss 's  case. 

There  cannot  be  a  keener  distress  than  a  j 
conscience  that  is  awakened,  and  a  heart 
that  desponds.  The  spirit  of  a  man  will 
sustain  his  other  infirmities,  but  a  wounded 
spirit  who  can  bear?  A  wounded  spirit  v.'as 
the  bitteiest  ingredient  ever,  in  the  cup  of 
our  Lord's  exquisitely  severe  sufferings. 
He  that  bore  the  racking  tortures  of  cruci- 
fixion without  a  comj)laiiit,  cried  lament- 
ably, wejjt  blood,  when  the  arrows  of  the 
Almighty  were  within  him.  Ihen  his  soul 
was  sorrowful,  exceeding  sorrowful,  sorrow- 
ful even  imto  death.  This  dejection  of  our 
adored  Master  should  be  our  consolation, 
his  agonies  are  our  ease ;  he  was  deejdy 
sorrowful  that  we  might  be  always  rejoicing. 
To  believe  that  he  was  wounded  for  our 
sins,  and  liniised  for  our  iniquities  ;  tliat  lie 
was  destitute,  afflicted,  tormented  fur  our 
Fake  ;  that  by  his  vicarious  and  most  meri- 
torious obedience  unto  death,  he  has  ob- 
tained everlasting  redemption  for  us ;  liiinly 


to  believe  this  is  not  aiTOgance,  is  not  pre- 
sumption, but  our  bounden  duty,  as  well  as 
our  inestimable  ])rivilege.  This  is  his  com- 
mand, says  St.  John,  that  we  believe  on 
the  name  of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Never, 
never  was  any  command  more  gracious,  or 
more  worthy  to  be  written  on  the  tables  of 

our  hearts.     Let  us  not,  my  dear  Mr. , 

by  indulging  unbelief,  O  let  us  not  dis- 
honour the  boundless  mercy,  and  the  in- 
violable fidelity  of  God  ;  let  lis  not  depre- 
ciate the  infinite  merits,  and  ill-prevailiug 
intercession  of  our  blessed  Mediator  ;  but 
say  with  the  lively  poet,  Dr.  Watts,  in  his 
Kymns, 

O  !  for  a  strong,  a  lasting  faith, 
To  citdit  what  the  Almighty  saith  ! 
To  embrace  the  promise  of  his  .Son, 
Ami  call  the  joys  of  heaven  our  own  ! 

You  inquire  about  my  new  work  intended 
for  the  piess.  It  is  a  great  uncertainty 
whether  r^iy  languid  spirits,  and  enfeebled 
constitution,  will  permit  me  to  execute  my 
design.  It  is  a  pleasure,  however,  to  hear 
that  I  am  sometimes  admitted  to  converse 
with  you  by  my  bock.  JMay  the  divine 
Spirit  accompany  every  such  conversation  ; 
and  teach  our  souls  to  glow  with  gratitude 
to  that  transcendently  great  and  gracious 
Being  who  stretched  out  the  heavens,  and 
laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth  ;  who 
stretched  out  his  arms  on  the  cursed  tree, 
and  laid  the  foundation  of  our  happiness  in 
his  own  blood.      Please  to  ])resent  my  most 

respectful  compliments  to  Rli's.  ,  your 

worthy  neighbour  Mv. ,  and  his  nieces. 

Give  me  leave,  instead  of  wishing  you  a 
merry  Christmas,  to  wish  them  and  you  all 
that  joy  which  the  holy  prophet  felt,  when, 
in  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  he  cried  out,  "  To 
us  a  child  is  bom  !  to  us  a  Son  is  given  !" 
All  the  glories  of  heaven  unite  in  his  won- 
derful person  ;  all  the  blessings  of  time  and 
eternity  are  the  fruit  of  his  precious  incar- 
nation. Adieu,  my  dear  sir,  and  cease  not 
to  pray  for  your  ever  affectionate,  &e. 


LETTER  LXXIV. 

London,  Dec.  22,  1 750. 
My  dear  Friend, — Be  eo  kind  as  to 
let  your  servant  look  out  for  some  person 
of  Collingtree,   and  deliver  to  him   the  in- 
closed letter.     He  will  probably  find  some 

such   person  on    Monday  at ;  and  I 

would  have  the  letter  conveyed  by  Christ- 
mas, that  it  may  furnish  my  people  with 
matter  for  conversation  at  their  hospita- 
ble meetings.  Our  excellent  friend  follows 
the  advice  of  the  Preacher — whatsoever, 
of  a  charitable  or  godly  nature,  his  hand 
fiiuleth  to  do,  he  does  it  with  his  might ; 
as  one  that  is  deei)ly  convinced  that  there 


820 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


js  no  wisilom  nor  device  in  the  grave,  whi-i 
iher  we  all  are  hasting.  Does  not  so  ami- 
able a  person,  such  an  indefatigable  servant 
of  Christ,  such  a  compassionate  friend  to 
mankind,  does  not  he  deserve  encourage- 
ment ? 

We  have  just  been  to  hear  a  very  excel- 
lent  discourse    upon    Zech.    iv.    7.       Mr, 

,  who  made  one  of  the  congregation, 

sends  his  compliments  to  you,   and  to  Dr. 

;  which  when  you  present,  be  pleased 

to  add  mine.  Who  do  you  think  I  lately 
drank  tea  with?  The  two  ladies  before 
whom  you  put  me  so  extremely  to  the  blush. 
May  neither  they  nor  I  be  put  to  everlast- 
ing shame  and  confusion.  I  did  what  was 
in  my  power  to  prevent  it,  by  recommend- 
ing that  adorable  Saviour  to  their  affections, 
in  whom  whosoever  believeth  shall  not  be 
ashamed.  They  commissioned  me  to  trans- 
rait  their  compliments  to  you.  You  have 
thanks  and  prayers  (the  reward  which  a 
prophet  gives)  for  the  writing  paper 
What  account  can  you  give  us  of  Lady 
's  health  ?  Never,  never  will  the  phy- 
sician's skill  be  employed  for  the  lengtlien- 
ing  of  a  more  valuable  life.  May  Almighty 
Goodness  bless  those  prescriptions,  and 
command  her  constitution  and  our  zeal, 
avaSaXXiiv ! — Ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LXXV. 

Dec.  29,  1750. 
My  dear  Friend, — This  time  last  week 
I  took  pen  in  hand  to  beg  ;  now  I  should  be 
ungrateful  if  I  did  not  resume  it,  in  order  to 
return  my  thanks,  which  I  do  most  sincere- 
ly, in  my  own  name,  and  on  the  behalf  of 
my  excellent  host.  He  is  now  engaged  in 
company,  and  cannot  possibly  steal  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  to  make  his  acknowledgments. 
The  limner  has  been  with  me  twice,  and 
is  to  give  the  finishing  touches  on  Monday. 
How  slowly,  and  how  patiently,  these 
artists  advance  !  A  pattern  for  us.  So  may 
we  have  the  image  of  the  amiable  Jesus 
gradually  instamped  on  our  hearts,  till  death 
gives  the  finishing  stroke,  and  makes  us 
completely  like  our  Beloved-  In  the  mean 
time,  we  have  need  of  patience.  Patience 
must  be  exercised  towards  ourselves ;  and 
God,  the  blessed  God,  is  unspeakably  pa- 
tient towards  us   all.     Mr. is  willing 

to  undertake  Zimmermannus.  I  would 
have  it  thrown  into  the  form  of  a  dialogue. 
Why  do  you  entertain  such  harsh  thoughts 
of  the  dearest,  most  benign,  and  gracious 
of  all  beings  ?  I  can  no  more — Ever  yours, 
&c. 


LETTER  LXXVL 

Dear  Sir, — I  return  you  thanks  for 
the  perusal  of  your  pamphlets.  Be  pleased 
to  accept  the  two  little  volumes  which  ac- 
company your  other  books,  as  an  expression 
of  my  gratitude  to  your  pen,  and  sincere 
affection  to  your  person.  May  I  request 
the  favour  of  you,  good  sir,  sometimes  to 
implore  the  blessing  of  a  gracious  God 
upon  the  author,  and  his  weak  attempts : 
that  the  one  may  walk  suitably  to  his  holy 
profession,  and  high  calling  ;  that  the  other 
may  please  the  reader  for  his  good  to  edifi- 
cation. This  will  be  a  singular  favour,  and 
shall  be  readily  returned  by,  reverend  sir, 
your  affectionate  friend  and  humble  servant, 
&c. 


LETTER  LXXVn. 

London,  Dec.  24,  1750. 

Dear  Mr.  Nixon, —  I  am  ashamed  to 
see  so  obliging  a  letter  from  so  valuable 
a  friend  lie  so  long  unanswered.  I  delayed 
my  gtateful  acknowledgments  to  you  on 
this  subject,  till  I  could  see  what  would  be 
the  issue  of  our  design.  As  you  propose 
to  recommend  my  picture  by  your  ingenious 
verses,  I  should  rather  chuse  to  have  them 
inserted  (with  your  permission)  in  the  ma- 
gazines and  public  papers,  than  to  have  them 
affixed  to  the  copperplate.  This  practice, 
though  once  customary,  is  now,  I  believe, 
seldom  used  ;  and  for  me  to  revive  it,  when 
it  does  me  such  distinguished  credit,  would 
be  too  vain-glorious  ;  otherwise,  I  assure 
you,  dear  sir,  I  should  be  glad  to  have  a 
memorial  of  our  friendship  engraved  on 
brass,  or  a  more  durable  metal.  And  give 
me  leave  to  declare,  that  though  I  was  e.x- 
ceedingly  pleased  with  the  character  you 
gave  of  my  book  in  your  excellent  aiuiiver- 
sary  sermon,  yet  I  was  much  more  delighted 
with  your  acknowledging  me  as  your  friend, 
and  suffering  it  to  be  known  that  I  have  a 
share  in  your  affection. 

I  propose  to  make  a  long  stay  in  town, 
and  shall  promise  myself  the  pleasure  of 
your  company  at  my  brother's.  Have  you 
ever  met  with  a  little  poem,  entitled  bun- 
day  Thoughts  ?  The  author  is  a  very 
worthy  man,  and  the  poem  not  beneath 
your  regard.  Shall  I  wish  my  worthy  friend 
a  merry  Christmas  ?  This  compliment  will 
be  paid  you  by  multitudes.  Rather  let  me 
wish  that  Christ  Jesus,  the  ever  blessed 
Immanuel,  may  be  formed  in  both  our 
hearts  !  Renewed  after  his  amiable  and 
divine  image,  may  you  see  many  revolving 
happy  new-years  below,  and  at  last  have  an 
abundant  entrance  into  the  new  Jerusalem, 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


821 


which  is  above.  Breathing  such  wishes,  I 
remain,  dear  sir,  your  much  obliged,  and 
very  affectionate  friend,  ike. 


LETTER  LXXVIII. 

Lowltiti,  Jiin.  3,  175L 
Dkar  Sister, —  I  have  taken   my  pen  in 
hand  to  write  to  you,  and  yet  have  no  news 
to  transmit.      I   have  nothing  to  send  but 
my  good  wishes,  and  my  best  advice. 

'Jlie  old  year  is  gone  ;  and  if  we  look 
back,  what  a  nothing  it  appears  !  Departed 
as  a  tale  that  is  told.  Thus  will  our  whole 
life  appear,  when  our  end  approaches,  and 
eternity  opens  ;  but  eternity  will  never  ex- 
pire, eternity  will  last  world  without  end. 
When  millions,  unnumbered  millions  of 
ages  are  passed  away,  eternity  will  only  be 
beginning.  And  this  short  life,  this  little 
span,  is  the  seed-time  of  the  long,  long 
eternity.  What  we  sow  in  this  state,  we 
tliall  reap  in  the  eternal  state.  Should  we 
not  therefore  be  careful,  very  careful,  to 
improve  our  time,  and  make  the  best  pro- 
vision for  an  eternity  of  happiness  ?  Should 
we  not  be  careful  to  get  faith  in  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ ;  to  get  the  love  of  God  shed 
abroad  in  our  hearts ;  and  our  souls  re- 
newed according  to  the  amiable  example  of 
our  blessed  Redeemer?  This,  and  nothing 
but  this,  is  true  religion.  Going  to  church, 
hearing  sermons,  and  receiving  sacraments, 
profit  us  nothing,  unless  they  promote  these 
desirable  ends.  Fix,  dear  sister,  this  truth 
in  your  memory.  A  true  faith  in  Christ, 
an  unfeigned  love  of  God,  and  a  real  holi- 
ness of  heart,  are  the  greatest  blessings  you 
can  desire.  Without  them  we  shall  not,  we 
cannot,  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
These  you  should  incessantly,  you  should 
earnestly  seek,  through  the  whole  advancing 
year  ;  and  these  I  most  sincerely  wish 
you,  who  am  your  very  affectionate  brother, 
&c. 


LETTER  LXXIX. 

London,  Feb.  5,  17aL 
Dkau  Mrs. ,  I  received  your  valua- 
ble letter,  and  thank  you  for  it.  I  am  ex- 
ceeding glad,  and  bless  the  unspeakable 
goodness  of  God,  if  he  has  made  my  jjoor 
ministry  in  any  degree  serviceable  or  com- 
fortable to  your  soul.  I  accompany  my 
former  labours  (if  such  extremely  feeble 
attempts  may  be  called  labours,)  with 
my  repeated  prayers  ;  and  bear  my  little 
flock  on  my  supplicating  and  affeclionate 
heart  all  the  day  long.  O  that  the  giacious 
God  may  fulfil  in    llicm  aJl  the   good  plea- 


sure of  his  will,  and  the  work  of  faith  with 
power ! 

I  rejoice  to  find  that  you  know  the  trutli. 
May  you  know  it  more  and  raore  ;  be  estab- 
lished in  it,  and  experience  the  efficacy  of 
it.  May  the  truth  make  you  free  !  free 
from  the  prevalence  of  unbelief,  the  do- 
minion of  sin,  and  the  oj)pression  of  sor- 
row I  Give  glory  to  God  for  opening  the 
eyes  of  your  mind,  and  bringing  you  to  the 
riches  of  Christ.  Take  to  yourself  the 
comfort  of  this  inestimable  blessing,  and  by 
no  means  reject  your  own  mercy.  Pray 
do  not  harbour  hard  thoughts  concerning 
the  blessed  God,  nor  cherish  desponding 
apprehensions  concerning  yourself,  though 
always  frail,  and  in  every  respect  imperfect. 
The  great  and  good  Father  of  our  spirits 
knows  whereof  we  are  made  ;  he  remembers 
that  we  are  but  dust,  and  will  not  be  ex- 
treme to  mark  what  is  done  amiss.  Ex- 
treme to  mark  !  so  far  from  it,  that  to  those 
who  seek  him  in  sincerity,  seek  him  through 
his  dear  Son,  he  is  tender  and  compassion- 
ate beyond  all  imagination.  "  As  a  father 
pitieth  his  own  children,  so  is  the  Lord 
merciful  unto  them  that  fear  him,"  Psalm 
ciii.  13.  ;  and  "as  a  mother  coinforteth  her 
son,  so  will  the  Lord  thy  God  comfort 
thee,"  Isa.  Ixvi.  13.  Since  we  want  loving- 
kindness  and  mercy  to  follow  us  all  the 
days  of  our  life,  blessed,  for  ever  blessed 
be  the  God  of  heaven,  in  these  he  delight- 
eth,  Jer.  ix.  2'k 

O  "  cast  thy  burden  upon  the  Lord," 
says  the  Holy  Spirit.  Cast  it  upon  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  This  is  an  art  which 
the  Christian  should  be  diligent  to  learn 
and  watchful  to  practise.  Christ  is  a  Sa- 
viour, but  we  neglect  to  make  use  of  him  ; 
we  are  come  to  him,  but  we  forget  to  walk 
in  him.  When  guilt  accuses  us,  or  guilt 
overtakes  us,  instantly  let  us  fly  to  Christ, 
as  the  Israelites,  when  wounded,  looked  to 
the  brazen  serpent.  There,  let  us  say, 
there  is  the  propitiation  for  this  abominable 
sin.  For  this,  and  for  all  my  other  iniqui- 
ties, his  heart  was  pierced,  and  his  blood 
spilt.  The  vials  of  wrath,  due  to  my  pro- 
vocations, were  poured  upon  that  spotless 
victim ;  and  by  his  stripes  1  am  healed.  If 
our  own  obedience  is  dejilorably  defective,  so 
that  we  are  sometimes  ready  to  cry  out  with 
the  prophet,  "  My  leaiuiess  !  my  leanness  ! 
woe  is  me  !"  let  us  turn  our  thoughts  to  the 
great  Mediator's  righteousness  ;  this  is  con- 
summate and  divine  ;  this  was  wrought  out 
for  us ;  this  is  imputed  to  us ;  in  this  all 
the  seed  of  Israel  shall  be  justified,  and  in 
this  should  they  glory.  If  your  jirayers  are 
dull  and  languid,  remember  the  intercession 
of  Christ.  He  ever  apj)ears  in  the  pre- 
sence of  (iod  for  you  ;  and  how  can  your 
cause  miscarry  which  has  such  an  advo- 
cate ?    If  the  poor  widow  was  heaid,  even 


822 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


by  the  unjust  judge,  shall  not  the  dearly 
beloved  Son  of  God  prevail  when  he  makes 
intercession  to  a  most  gracious  Father  ?  a 
Father  who  loves  both  him  and  his  people. 
If  you  want  repentance,  want  faith,  want 
holiness,  Christ  is  exalted  to  be  a  Prince 
and  a  Saviour,  and  to  give  all  these  desir- 
able blessings.  He  has  ascended  up  on  high, 
has  led  captivity  captive,  and  received  gifts, 
spiritual  gifts  for  men,  yea,  even  for  his 
enemies,  for  the  rebellious.  It  is  his  office 
to  bestow  these  precious  graces  on  poor 
sinners  ;  and  he  is  as  ready  to  execute  this 
office  as  the  mother  is  ready  to  administer 
the  breast  to  a  sucking  child.  Do  you 
read  the  Scriptures  ?  Still  keep  Christ  in 
view.  When  dreadful  threatenings  occur, 
say.  These  I  deserved  ;  but  Christ  has  bore 
them  in  my  stead.  When  rich  promises 
are  made,  say,  of  these  I  am  unworthy ; 
but  my  Redeemer's  worthiness  is  my  plea ; 
he  has  purchased  them  for  me  by  his  me- 
rits. All  the  promises  of  God  are  yea  and 
amen  (sure  and  certain  to  the  believing 
soul)  in  Christ  Jesus. 

To  make  such  a  perpetual  application  of 
Christ,  is  to  eat  his  tiesh,  and  drink  his 
blood.  Thus  may  you,  may  1,  may  all  my 
dear  people,  be  enabled  to  pass  the  time  of 
our  sojourning  here  below  !  deriving  our 
whole  spiritual  life,  our  pardon  and  sancti- 
fication,  our  hope,  and  our  joy,  from  that 
inexhaustible  fountain  of  all  good.  Though 
1  am  not  with  you  in  person,  I  am  often 
with  you  in  spirit;  and  daily  commit  you 
to  the  great  Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  souls  ; 
who  is  ten  thousand  thousand  times  more 
condescending,  compassionate,  and  faithful, 
than  your  truly  affectionate  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  LXXX. 

Dkar ,  I  received  your  kind  letter, 

and  am  glad  to  find    that  you,  and    Mrs. 

,  and  Mrs.  ,  often  meet  together, 

and,  like  the  people  mentioned  by  the  pro- 
phet, speak  one  to  another  of  the  things  of 
God.  O  let  us  exhort  one  another  to  faith, 
to  love,  and  to  good  works ;  and  so  much 
the  more,  as  we  see  the  day,  the  day  of 
eternal  judgment,  approaching.  Ere  long 
we  shall  hear  the  shout  of  the  archangel, 
and  the  trump  of  God.  O  let  us  imitate 
the  wise  virgins,  and  get  oil  in  our  lamps, 
true  grace  in  our  hearts  ;  that  we  may  be 
prepared  for  our  Lord's  second  coming,  and 
not  dread,  but  love  his  appearing. 

My  departure  from  Northampton  was 
sudden  and  unexpected.  Could  I  have 
seen  my  people,  and  given  them  my  parting 
advice,  it  should  have  been  in  the  words  of 
that  good  man  Barnabas,  who  exhorted  all 


the  disciples,  that  with  purpose  of  heart 
they  would  cleave  unto  the  Lord. 

Cleave,  my  dear  friends,  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ ;  cleave  to  his  word  ;  let  the 
word  of  Christ  dwell  in  you  richly,  and  be 
your  meditation  all  the  d;iy  long.  Let  the 
Bible,  that  inestimable  book,  be  often  in 
your  hands,  and  its  precious  truths  be  ever 
in  your  thoughts.  Thus  let  us  sit,  with 
holy  Mary,  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  ;  and,  J  hope, 
we  shall  experience  his  word  to  drop  as  the 
rain,  and  distil  as  the  dew. 

Cleave  to  his  merits.  Fly  to  his  divine 
blood  for  pardon  ;  it  is  the  fountain  opened 
for  sin,  aTid  for  uncleanness.  It  purges  from 
all  guilt,  takes  away  all  sin,  and,  blessed  be 
God,  it  is  always  open,  always  free  of  ac- 
cess. Fly  to  his  righteousness.  Let  us 
renounce  our  own,  and  rely  on  his  obedi- 
ence. What  unprofitable  servants  are  we  ! 
how  slothful  in  our  whole  life  !  how  imper- 
feet  in  every  work !  But  as  for  Christ, 
his  work  is  perfect ;  it  is  complete,  and  in- 
finitely meritorious.  In  this  shall  all  the 
seed  of  Israel,  all  true  believers,  be  justififd  ; 
and  in  this  shall  they  glory. 

Cleave  to  his  Spirit.  Seek  for  the  divine 
Spirit ;  cry  mightily  to  God  for  the  divine 
Spirit.  Let  them  that  have  it  pray  that 
they  may  have  it  more  abundantly,  and  be 
even  filled  with  the  Spirit.  This  blessed 
Spirit  reveals  Christ,  strengthens  faith, 
quickens  love,  and  purifies  the  heart. 
Christ  died  to  obtain  this  Spirit  for  us  ;  he 
intercedes  for  us  that  we  may  receive  it ; 
and  his  heavenly  Father,  for  his  sake,  has 
promised  to  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  those 
who  ask  it.  He  has  promised  (O  glorious 
privilege  !)  to  give  it  more  readily  than  a 
parent  gives  bread  to  a  hungry  child. 

Cleave  to  his  example.  Study  his  holy 
life,  eye  his  unblamable  conduct,  observe 
his  amiable  tempers  ;  look  to  this  heavenly 
pattern,  as  those  that  learn  to  write  look  to 
their  copy ;  and  God  grant  that  we  all,  be- 
holding with  open  face  the  glory  of  the 
Lord,  may  be  changed  into  the  same  image 
from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  ! 

Thus  let  us  cleave  to  Christ  the  Lord  ; 
cleave  with  full  purpose  of  heart,  incessant- 
ly, closely,  inseparably.  Let  us  say  with 
our  father  Jacob,  I  will  not  let  thee  go. 
Let  us  imitate  the  Syrophcenician  woman, 
whom  no  discouragements  could  divert 
from  her  purpose.  Temptations,  difficul- 
ties, all  the  assaults  of  our  enemy,  shotdd 
make  us  hasten  to,  and  abide  in  the  strong- 
hold, the  city  of  refuge  :  And  he  has  pro- 
mised, "  I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  for- 
sake thee."  He  will  gather  us  with  his 
aim,  and  lay  us  in  his  bosom.  He  will 
guide  us  by  his  grace,  and  receive  us  into 
his  glory.      There,,    in   those  happy,   happy 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS- 


823 


mansions,  may  we,  and  many,  very  many 
ol'  my  dear  flock  meet,  and  never  be  parted 
more  !  This  is  the  licart's  desire,  and  the 
daily  prayer  of  their  and  your  truly  affec- 
tionate Iricnd,  &c. 


LETTER  LXXXr. 

1751. 

Dear ,  And  are  you  very  weak?  is 

sickness  in  the  chamber,  and  death  at  the 
door  ?  Come,  then,  let  us  both  sit  down 
with  dissolution  and  eternity  in  view,  and 
encourage  one  another  from  the  word,  the 
precious  word  of  God.  I  have  as  much 
need  of  such  consolation  as  you,  my  dear 
friend,  and  may,  perhaps,  have  occasion  to 
use  them  as  soon. 

What  is  there  formidable  in  death,  which 
our  ever  blessed  Redeemex  has  not  taken 
away  ?  Do  the  pangs  of  dissolution  alarm 
us  ?  Should  they  be  sharp,  they  cannot  be 
very  long ;  and  our  exalted  Lord,  with 
whom  are  the  issues  of  death,  knows  what 
dying  ap-onies  mean.  He  has  said,  in  the 
multitude  of  his  tender  mercies,  "  Fear 
thou  not,  for  I  am  with  thee  ;  be  not  dis- 
mayed, for  I  am  thy  God  :  I  will  strengthen 
thee,  yea,  I  will  help  thee,  yea,  I  will  up- 
hold thee  with  the  right  hand  of  my  right- 
eousness," Lsa.  xli.  10.  This  promise  au- 
thorizes us  to  say  boldly,  "  Yea,  though  I 
walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
Geath,  I  will  fear  no  evil  ;  for  thou  art 
with  me,  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  comfort  me," 
Psalm  xxiii.  4-. 

Are  we  afraid  to  enter  into  a  strange,  in- 
visible, unknown  world  ?  It  is  the  world 
into  which  our  divine  Master  is  gone ; 
where  he  has  prepared  everlasting  mansions 
for  his  people,  John  xiv.  2.  Luke  xvi.  22. 
and  has  appointed  his  angels  to  conduct  us 
thither.  Hiiving  such  a  convoy,  what  should 
we  dread?  and,  going  to  our  eternal  home, 
where  our  all-bountiful  Redeemer  is,  why 
should  we  be  reluctant  ? 

Are  we  concerned  on  account  of  what 
we  leave  ?  We  leave  the  worse  to  possess 
the  better.  If  we  leave  our  earthly  friends, 
we  shall  find  more  loving  and  lovely  com- 
panions. We  shall  be  admitted  among  the 
"  innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  to 
the  general  assemljly  and  church  of  the 
first-born,  that  are  written  in  heaven," 
Hch.  xii.  •22, '23.  Do  we  leave  the  ordi- 
nances of  religion,  which  we  have  attended 
with  great  delight  ?  leave  the  word  of  God, 
which  has  been  sweeter  to  our  souls  than 
honey  to  our  mouths  ?  We  shall  enter 
into  the  temple  not  made  with  hands,  and 
join  that  happy  choir,  who  rest  not  day  nor 
night,  saying,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy.  Lord 
God  Almighty,  which  was,  and  is,  and  is 
to  come,"  Rev.  iv.  8.     And  if  our   Bible 


is  no  more,  we  shall  have  all  that  is  promis- 
ed, we  shall  behold  all  that  is  described 
therein.  If  we.  drop  the  map  of  our  hea- 
venly Canaan,  it  will  be  to  take  possession 
of  its  blissful  territories.  "  That  city  has 
no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon, 
to  shine  in  it ;  for  the  glory  of  God  does 
lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  there- 
of," Rev.  xxi.  23.  O,  my  friend  !  blessed, 
for  ever  blessed,  be  the  grace  of  our  God, 
and  the  merits  of  his  Christ !  We  shall 
exchange  the  scanty  stream  for  the  bound- 
less ocean  ;  and  if  we  no  longer  pick  the 
first  ripe  grajjes,  we  shall  gather  the  copi- 
ous, the  jibouiiding,  the  never-ending  vint- 
age. 

Do  we  fear  the  guilt  of  our  innumerable 
sins?  Adored  be  the  inexpressible  loving- 
kindness  of  God  our  Saviour  !  our  sins  have 
been  punished  in  the  blessed  Jesus  :  "  The 
Lord  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all, 
lsa.  liii.  G.  He  his  own  self  bare  our  sins, 
in  his  own  body,  on  the  tree,  1  Pet.  ii.  24'. 
So  that  there  is  no  condemnation  to  them 
that  are  in  Christ  Jesus,"  Rom.  viii.  1.  O 
that  we  may  be  enabled,  with  the  apostle, 
to  make  our  boast  of  this  Saviour,  and  to 
triumph  in  this  faith  !  "  Who  shall  lay 
any  thing  to  the  charge  of  God's  elect?  It 
is  God  that  justifieth  ;  who  is  he  that  con- 
demneth?  It  is  Christ  that  died,  yea 
rather  that  is  risen  again,  who  is  even  at 
the  right  hand  of  God  ;  who  also  maketh 
intercession  for  us." 

Is  judgment  the  thing  that  we  fear  ?  To 
the  pardoned  sinner  it  has  nothing  terrible. 
The  Lord  Jesus,  who  keeps  his  servants 
from  falling,  "  presents  them  also  faultless 
before  the  presence  of  his  glory  with  exceed- 
ing joy,"  Jude  ver.  24.  Observe  the  sweet 
expressions,  presents  faultless,  and  with  ex- 
ceeding joi/.  Justly  therefore  does  the  apostle 
reckon  it  among  the  privileges  of  the  Chris- 
tians, that  they  are  come  to  God  the  Judge 
of  all,  Heb.  xii.  23.  ;  for  the  Judge  is  our 
friend,  the  Judge  is  our  advocate,  the  Judge 
is  our  propitiation,  the  Judge  is  our  righte- 
ousness. And  is  it  not  a  privilege  to  come 
to  such  a  judge  as  will  not  so  much  as  men- 
tion our  iniquities  to  us,  but  condescend  to 
take  notice  of  our  poor  unworthy  services  ? 
who  sits  on  the  great  tribunal,  not  to  pass 
the  sentence  of  damnation  upon  us,  but  to 
give  us  a  reward,  a  reward  of  free  grace, 
and  of  inconceivable  richness? 

Let  me  conclude  with  those  charming 
words  of  the  evangelical  prophet,  "  Comfort 
ye,  comfort  ye  my  people,  saith  your  God. 
Speak  you  comfortably  to  Jerusalem,  and 
cry  unto  her,  that  her  \\"arfare  is  accomplish- 
ed, that  her  iniquity  is  pardoned  ;  for  her 
Redeemer,  her  all-gracious  Redeemer,  hath 
received  of  the  Lord's  hand  double  for  all 
her  sins,"  lsa.  xl.  1,  2.  May  the  God  of 
our  life  and  salvation  make  these  Scriptures 


824 


A    COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


be  unto  us  a  staff  in  the  traveller's  hand, 
and  as  a  cordial  to  the  fainting  lieart,  that 
we  may  be  strong-  in  the  faith  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ ;  that  we  may  glorify  him  in 
death,  and  glorify  him  for  death  ;  because 
death  will  introduce  us  into  his  immediate 
presence,  where  we  shall  be  sorrowful  no 
more,  sinful  no  more,  at  a  distance  no  more  ; 
but  be  joyful,  and  be  like  our  Lord ;  love 
him  with  all  our  souls,  praise  him  to  all 
eternity.  Let  us  then  be  of  good  cheer, 
soon  in  our  heavenly  Jerusalem  we  shall 
meet  again.  Because  God  is  faithful,  in- 
violably faithful,  and  infinitely  merciful,  who 
hath  promised,  promised  to  you,  and  pro- 
mised to  your  affectionate  friend,  &c. 

P.  S — My  kindest  respects  to  Mr.  , 

and  Mrs.  ;  bid  them  be  of  good  cour- 
age, and  go  on  their  way  rejoicing,  for  their 
iledeemer  is  mighty,  his  merits  are  unspeak- 
able, and  his  love  is  unchangeable.  My 
most  respectful  compliments  wait  upon  Mr. 

and    Mrs.  .      What    a   pleasure 

should  I  think  it,  was  I  able  to  execute  the 
ministerial  office,  to  bring  home  to  their 
parlours  the  glad  tidings  of  an  all-sufficient 
Saviour,  as  well  as  to  preach  them  in  the 
pulpit !  Polly,  I  hope,  loves  her  Bible ; 
may  the  word  of  Christ  dwell  in  her  richly  ; 
and  may  he  be  with  your  father  and  mother, 
now  they  are  old  and  grey-headed. 


LETTER  LXXXIL 

Dear  ,  I  hope  this  will  find  you  a 

little  better  in  your  health ;  but  if  it  should 
find  you  in  a  weak  and  languishing  condition, 
I  hope  a  gracious  God  will  sanctify  what  it 
contains  to  the  comfort  of  your  soul. 

Often  consider,  if  you  die,  yon  will  leave 
a  world  full  of  sin  ;  a  condition  full  of  frail- 
ty, ignorance,  and  misery  ;  a  body  that  has 
long  been  a  heavy  burden,  a  sore  clog,  both 
to  your  services  and  to  your  comforts  :  and 
why  should  any  one  be  greatly  unwilling  to 
leave  such  a  state  ?  If  you  die,  you  will 
go  into  an  unknown  world  ;  but  the  comfort 
is,  you  have  a  kind  and  faithful  friend  gone 
thither  before — Jesus  Christ,  your  best 
friend,  and  the  lover  of  your  soul,  is  the 
Lord  of  that  unseen  world.  Joseph's 
brethren  were  not  afraid  ro  go  down  into 
Egypt,  when  they  knew  that  their  dear  bro- 
ther was  governor  of  the  country.  And 
since  your  most  merciful  Saviour  is  ruler  of 
the  invisible  world,  be  not  afraid  to  leave 
the  body,  and  depart  thither.  It  is  said, 
the  spirit  of  old  Jacob  revived  when  he  saw 
the  waggons  sent  to  carry  him  to  his  be- 
loved son  ;  and  the  poor  languishing  believer 
may  look  upon  death  as  the  waggon  sent  by 
Jesus  Chriit  to  bring  his  soul  home  to  hea- 
ven. 


But  after  death  comes  judgment,  and  this 
is  terrible.  Consider,  who  is  the  Judge. 
Was  the  father  that  begat  you,  vvas  the 
mother  that  bare  you,  or  the  friend  that  is 
as  your  own  soul ;  was  any  one  of  these  to 
be  the  Judge,  and  to  pass  the  sentence,  you 
would  not  be  apprehensive  of  rigorous  pro- 
ceedings, you  would  expect  all  possible  cle- 
mency. Mercy,  in  this  case,  would  rejoice 
against  judgment.  But,  to  our  unspeakable 
comfort,  we  are  informed  by  the  Scriptures, 
that  a  glorious  Person,  far  more  merciful 
than  a  father,  far  more  compassionate  than 
a  mother,  far  more  affectionate  than  a  friend, 
is  to  decide  our  doom — even  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  who  loved  us  with  an  ever- 
lasting love  ;  who  declares,  that  a  woman 
may  forget  her  sucking  child  much  sooner 
than  he  forget  to  be  merciful  to  those  that 
put  their  trust  in  him  ;  for  thus  it  is  written, 
"  God  hath  appointed  a  day,  in  which  he 
will  judge  the  world  in  righteousness,  by 
that  man  whom  he  hath  ordained,  even  Je- 
sus Christ,"  Acts  xvii.  31. 

The  Judge  calls  himself  our  Husband, 
the  Bridegroom  of  poor  believing  souls. 
And  will  the  Bridegroom  deliver  to  destruc- 
tion his  own  bride,  whom  he  has  bought 
with  his  blood,  and  with  whom  he  has  made 
an  everlasting  covenant  ?  Isa.  liv.  5. 

The  Judge  vouchsafes  to  be  our  Advo- 
cate. And  will  he  condemn  those  for  whom 
he  has  long  interceded  ?  will  he  condemn 
those  for  whom  he  poured  out  his  prayers 
when  he  was  on  earth,  and  on  whose  behalf 
he  has  constantly  pleaded  in  the  presence 
of  God  ?    1  John  ii.  1. 

The  Judge  condescends  to  be  our  Head, 
and  calls  the  weakest  believers  his  members. 
And  did  ever  any  one  hate  his  own  body? 
Did  ever  any  one  delight  to  maim,  or  take 
pleasure  to  ruin  his  own  llesh,  and  his 
bones?  Col.  i.  18.  1  Cor.  xii.  21. 

The  Judge  has  been  our  Victim,  the  sa- 
crifice for  our  sins.  And  will  he  consign 
those  to  damnation,  for  whom  he  endured 
the  agonies  of  crucifixion  ?  If  he  has  given 
himself  for  us,  will  he  not  with  this  gift 
freely  give  us  all  things  ?  give  us  pardon  at 
that  awful  day  ?  give  us  the  crown  of  glory, 
which  fadeth  not  away  ?   Heb.  ix.  14,  "26. 

Farther,  to  confirm  your  faith,  and  esta- 
blish your  hope,  it  will  be  proper  to  con- 
sider what  you  have  to  plead.  The  proud 
Pharisee  made  his  abstaining  from  gross  in- 
iquities, and  his  punctuality  in  some  exter- 
nal performances,  his  plea.  The  blinded 
Jews  went  about  to  establish  their  own 
righteousness,  and  depended  on  this  broken 
reed  for  acceptance.  But  we  have  a  surer 
foundation  whereon  to  build  our  comfortable 
expectations. 

If  arraigned  on  the  foot  of  gniit — great 
guilt — manifold  guilt — :aggiavuted  guilt — 
long  contracted  guilt ;  we  have  an   atone- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


825 


ment  to  plead,  asacrifice  of  unknown  value. 
a  propitiation  glorious  and  divine.  Wc 
have  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  to  plead  ;  blood 
.that  taJ^eth  a\ray  not  one  sin,  or  a  few  sins, 
or  a  multitude  of  sins  only  ;  but  (O  delight- 
ful truth!)  taketh  away  all,  all,  all  sins. 
Yes,  it  taketh  away  all  sins  from  the  be- 
liever, be  they  ever  so  numerous;  all  sins, 
be  they  ever  so  heinous  ;  1  John  i.  7.  Rev. 
i.  5. 

Should  the  law  take  us  by  the  throat,  and 
make  that  severe  demand,  Pay  me  that  thou 
owest :  It  is  paid,  we  reply,  by  oar  divine 
Surety.  An  iiicaniHte  God  has  been  obe- 
dient in  our  stead.  In  the  Lord,  the  Lord 
Redeemer,  have  we  righteousness.  And 
can  the  law  insist  on  a  more  excellent  satis- 
faction ?  Does  not  this  magnify  the  law,  and 
make  it  honourable  ?  '■  By  the  obedience  of 
one,  (that  is,  Christ)  shall  many  be  made 
righteous  ;"  Isa.  xlv.  24.  Rom.  v.  19. 

Should  it  further  be  urged,  Without  ho- 
liness no  man  shall  see  the  Lord  :  Is  not 
holiness  the  thing  that  we  have  longed  for? 
It  is  true,  we  have  not  attained  to  ho- 
liness ;  spotless  and  undefiled  holiness, 
neither  could  we  in  the  regions  of  tempta- 
tion, and  in  a  body  of  corruption.  But  has 
not  our  guilt  been  our  sorrow,  and  our  in- 
dwelling sin  our  heaviest  cross  ?  Have  we 
not  groaned  under  our  remaining  iniquities, 
and  been  burdened  with  a  sense  of  our  fail- 
ings? And  are  not  these  groanings  the  first 
fruits  of  the  Sjjirit  ?  Are  not  these  the 
work  of  thy  own  grace,  blessed  Lord ! 
and  wilt  thou  not  consummate  in  heaven 
what  thou  hast  thus  begun  upon  earth  ?  Do 
we  not  desire  heaven,  chiefly  because  in 
those  blessed  mansions  we  shall  sin  no 
more ;  we  shall  offend  our  God  no  more  ; 
be  no  more  forgetful  of  a  dying  Saviour;  no 
more  disobedient  to  the  motions  of  a  sanc- 
tifying Spirit  ?  And  shall  we  be  disappointed 
of  this  hope  ?  It  cannot,  it  cannot  be.  They 
that  hunger  aiul  thirst  after  righteousness, 
are  not  filled  while  they  abide  in  the  flesh ; 
therefore  there  remaineih  the  accomplish- 
ment of  this  promise — they  will  assuredly 
awake  up  after  the  likeness  of  their  Lord 
at  the  great  resurrection  day,  and  in  another 
world  be  fully,  everlastingly  satisfied  with 
it. 

I  must  now  come  to  a  conclusion  :  But 
I  cannot  conclude  without  wishing  you  all 
joy  and  peace  in  believing.  Though  your 
flesh  and  your  heart  fail,  may  Goil  l;e  the 
strength  of  your  heart,  and  your  portion  for 
ever !  I  daily,  I  frequently  make  mention 
of  you  in  my  prayers ;  and,  what  is  better 
than  all,  the  dearly  beloved  of  the  Father 
remembers  you  now  lie  is  in  his  kingdom. 
I  am  your  very  alFectionate  I'rici'l   {^c. 


LETTER  LXXXIII. 


[The  following  letter  was  sent  to  the  preacher  by  a 
cottager  in  a  country  village;  and  is  here  printed, 
to  show  how  thankfully  the  poor  receive  the  preach- 
in;;  of  the  gospel,  and  to  preserve  so  remarkable  and 
useful  a  letter  from  perishing.] 

Revi'.uend  Sir, — I  humbly  beg  your  par- 
don for  presuming  to  write  to  you.  Be- 
ing one  of  your  hearers,  I  was  very  much 
aflfected  with  your  good  sermons,  having 
known  and  experienced  the  truth  of  them, 
viz.  That  persons  must  be  convinced  of 
their  undone  state  by  nature,  and  brought 
into  a  state  of  concern,  or  self-condemnation, 
before  they  will  seek  and  earnestly  desire 
the  knowledge  of  Christ  crucified.  To  one 
who  feels  the  condemning  power  of  the 
LAW,  Christ  is  precious.  Such  have  tasted 
the  bitterness  of  sin  ;  for  till  then  they  are 
alive  icithout  the  law,  as  St.  Paul  saith,  Rom. 
vii.  9,  not  seeing  that  the  law  requires  per- 
feet  obedience,  and  th.it  theirs  at  the  best 
is  ven/  imperfect.  Hence  the  best  of  us  in 
our  carnal  state  are  striving  to  be  justified 
by  our  own  works ;  yea,  though  we  caimot 
but  know  that  we  often  brealc  the  laws  of 
God,  Rom.  iii.  20,  28. 

But  then  we  think,  It  is  true  I  am  a  sin- 
ner, and  there  is  none  without  sin.  Thus 
we  do  presume  upon  our  seeming  obedience, 
not  considering  how  great  a  chaxge  must 
be  wrought  upon  our  soul  by  repentance  ; 
and  that  we  must  be  united  to  Christ  by 
faith,  and  partake  of  his  likeness,  without 
which  Christ,  as  to  us,  is  dead  in  vain.  Gal. 
ii.  21.  And  when  the  Holy  S))irit  has 
convinced  us  of  our  misery  by  sin,  (John 
xvi.  8,)  and  need  of  Christ,  then,  usually, 
we  are  thinking  to  do  something  to  purchase 
an  interest  in  him  ;  not  considering  we  must 
be  humble,  supplicants  at  his  feet,  waiting  for 
every  tldny  we  want  at  the  throne  of  grace 
— repentance,  pardon,  sanctitication,  re- 
demption— as  purchased  by  Him  :  Eternal 
life  is  the  gift  of  God,  Rom.  \-i.  23. 

It  is  the  humbled  ])erson  who  will  accept 
of  Christ  in  all  his  oflices  ;  not  only  as  a 
priest  to  atone  for  sin,  but  also  as  a  prophet 
to  teach,  and  a  king  to  rule  over  him,  and 
subdue  all  his  sins.  The  covenant  of  grace 
answers  all  our  wants  :  there  is  not  only 
vtercy  to  pardon,  but  also  yrace  to  sanctify, 
and  renew  our  nature.  It  is  the  humbkd 
believer  who  can  sincerely  say,  "  Christ  is 
the  power  of  God  unto  salvation,"  Rom.  i. 
l(j. 

And  now  I  think  nothing  more  needful 
than  for  clergymen  to  preach  as  ^ou  do  ;  for 
though  Christianity  is  generally  professed 
among  us,  yet  many  seem  as  unconcerned 
about  these  things  as  if  there  were  no  such 
truths  in  the  gospel.  This  is  the  way  of 
)>r<aehing  which  has  ever  been  most  eflec- 
tual  to  the  converting  of  sinneis;  aiu!  may 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


the  Messed  Spirit  attend  the  word  preached, 
"  purifying  the  hearts  of  your  hearers '  by 
faith,"  Acts  xv.  9.  That  the  righteousness 
of  Christ,  accepted  and  applied  to  them- 
selves by  a  lively  faith,  may  entitle  them  to 
heaven,  Rom.  v.  19  ;  and  that  their  sincere, 
though  imperfect  obedience,  may  evidence 
their  title  to  be  true  and  real,  is  the  hearty 
desire  of,  reverend  sir,  your  most  humble 
servant. 

To  tr7ie  believers  the  law  is  set  forth  as  a 
rule  of  manners,  not  as  a  law  of  condemna- 
tion, for  there  is  no  condemnation  to  them 
who  are  in  Christ  Jesus,  Rom.  viii.  1,6; 
or,  in  other  words,  those  who  love  Christ, 
live  his  commandments,  as  kind  rules  of 
life,  not  obeying  (like  legal  people)  with 
reluctance,  and  out  of  fear  of  being  punish- 
ed. There  is  not,  perhaps,  a  greater  or 
more  important  truth,  than  that  in  propor- 
tion as  our  faith  in  the  Redeemer,  evi- 
denced by  our  works,  increases,  so  our  fear 
of  death  proportionably  decreases. 


LETTER  LXXXIV. 

Dear ,  You  need  make  no  excuse 

for  recommending  j\Ir. in  his  distress- 
ed condition.  I  am  pleased  to  see  you  so 
tenderly  concerned  for  a  brother's  welfare ; 
and  I  am  glad  you  have  used  the  freedom  of 
applying  to  me ;  seeing  divine  providence 
has  put  it  in  my  power  to  help  a  disciple,  a 
child,  a  member  of  Christ.      I  purposed  to 

have  given  him ,  and  to  have  lent  him 

three  ;  nor  should  I  have  been  very  rigorous 
in  exacting  the  debt,  pro\aded  there  was  but 
little  ability  to  repay.  But  lest  the  fear  of 
not  beiiig  able  to  repay  should  create  anxiety 
in  an  honest  heart,  and  lessen  the  comfort 
of  a  seasonable  supply,  I  make  him  a  pre- 
sent of  the  whole ;  heartily  wishing  that  the 
same  gracious  God  who  inclined  a  stranger's 
heart  to  bestow  it,  may  also  prosper  his  en- 
deavours to  improve  it.  And  if  he  often 
calls  to  remembrance  that  Almighty  power 
and  goodness  which  made  a  few  drops  of 
oil  at  the  bottom  of  a  cruse,  and  a  little 
handful  of  meal  that  was  the  gleaning  of  the 
barrel,  a  lasting  support  to  the  prophet,  and 
to  the  poor  widow  and  her  son,  I  doubt  not 
but  that  he  will  be  enabled  to  iix  his  de- 
pendence upon  the  same  everlasting  Father, 
for  needful  success  in  trading  :  so  that,  by 
God's  blessirg,  I  hope  this  little  stock,  fru- 
gally managed,  may,  through  his  kind  Pro- 
vidence, put  him  in  a  \\ay  of  procuring  ne- 
cessaries in  this  wilderness,  till  he  comes  to 
the  fulness  of  the  heavenly  Canaan. 

I  think  every  instance  of  kindness  shown 
to  us,  or  exercised  by  us,  should  enlarge  our 
apprehensions  of  the  divine    benevolence. 


What  is  a  grain  of  dust  to  the  whcJe  earth  ? 
■what  is  a  drop  of  water  to  the  great  ocean  ? 
or  what  are  a  few  days  to  the  countless  ages 
of  eternity?  Less,  unspeakably  less  is  all 
created  kindness,  compared  with  the  bound- 
less goodness  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.  For 
by  him  we  have  access  to  the  P'ather,  being 
reconciled  by  his  blood  shed  on  the  cross. 
We  are  adopted  and  received  into  the 
church,  whereof  Christ  is  the  head.  Being 
thus  in  the  favour  of  God,  he  delighteth  in 
hearing  the  prayer  of  faith,  which  those  who 
believe  in  Christ  daily  put  up  to  the  throne 
of  grace.  O  how  great  is  his  loving-kind- 
ness and  tender  mercy  !  He  is  exalted,  that 
he  may  have  mercy  upon  all  that  call  upon 
him  in  sincerity  and  truth.  He  waiteth  to 
be  gracious.  He  giveth  liberally,  and  up- 
braideth  not,  for  past  ingratitude  and  great 
unworthiness.  O  how  great  are  these  bless- 
ings which  he  giveth  !  Blessings,  in  com- 
parison of  which  silver  is  as  clay,  and  gold 
as  the  mire  of  the  streets.  He  giveth  grace 
and  glory,  and  no  good  thing  will  he  with- 
hold from  them  who  live  a  godly  life ;  from 
them  who  are  accepted  in  the  beloved,  and 
love  him  who  first  loved  them.  I  shall  add 
that  charming  declaration  of  the  beloved 
disciple,  and  earnestly  wish  that  we  may 
learn  by  happy  expeiience,  and  feel  in  our 
souls  what  it  means,  "  We  have  known  and 
believed  the  love  that  God  hath  to  us." 
Let  me  beg  my  dear  friends  to  remember  at 
the  throne  of  grace  your  affectionate  friend, 
&c. 


LETTER  LXXXV. 

Dear  Sister, — I  have  taken  my  pen  in 
my  hand  to  write  :  but  what  shall  be  the 
subject?  News  I  have  none;  or,  if  I  had, 
my  brother  would  communicate  it  in  his 
conversation.  Let  me  imitate  a  royal  ex- 
ample. It  was  once  said  by  a  renowned 
king,  Mt/  song  shall  be  of  meraj  and  judg- 
ment :  of  the  same  let  my  letter  treat.  The 
former  was  very  lately  the  topic  of  some 
agreeable  discourse  with  a  young  gentleman. 
We  observed  how  necessary  it  is  to  be 
firmly  persuaded  of  the  iidinitely  rich  mer- 
cies of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.  This  will 
make  us  delight  to  think  of  him,  and  encou- 
rage us  to  fly  to  him  :  Whereas,  if  we  have 
a  jealousy  that  he  bears  us  ill-will,  or  de- 
signs our  ruin,  we  cannot  take  pleasure  in 
him,  or  ])lace  our  confidence  in  him.  There- 
fore the  condescending  God  has  given  us 
repeated  and  solemn  assurances  of  his  pity, 
his  grace,  his  tender  mercy  in  Christ  Jesus. 

Exod.  xxxiv.  G,  7.  He  makes  it  hrs  very 
name.  Intimating,  that  a  man  may  forget 
his  own  name,  before  the  blessed  God  can 
cease  to  be  merciful  to  them  that  fear  him. 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


Ezek.  xxxiii.  7.  IL  He  confirms  his 
divine  good  will  to  lis  by  an  oath.  He 
swciirs  by  his  very  life,  that  he  desires  our 
h!ipi)iiicss,  iiiid  seeks  our  sulvatioii.  Here 
are  two  innntitable  things,  the  name  and 
the  oath  of  God.  Can  we  have  stronger 
confirmation  of  his  loving  kindness  ? 

I  tliink,  if  it  be  jiossible,  we  have.  He 
has  so  loved  us,  saitli  the  Scripture.  How 
hath  iie  loved  us?  So  as  no  words,  no,  not 
of  his  own  all-wise  Spirit,  can  express  ; 
nothiiitj  but  the  unspeakably  precioirs  effects ; 
so  as  to  suiTcnder  his  own  Son  to  die,  that 
we  iniglit  live  ;  to  be  made  subject  to  the 
law,  that  we  by  his  obedience  might  be  made 
righteous  ;  to  become  a  curse,  that  we  might 
iniieiit  the  blessing.  Read  what  tlie  wife 
of  Manoah  very  justly  alleges,  and  apply  it 
to  the  point  before  us,  (Judges  xiii.  'J."J. )  for 
I  can  no  more ;  I  hear  the  coach  coming  to 
carry  me  out  on  a  visit. — Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LXXXVL 


827 
Yon  would  have  a 


cere  milk  of  the  word, 
congregation,  all  of  them  honouring  you, 
most  of  tliem  attentive  to  you,  and  many  of 
them  edified  by  you.  It  grieves  me,  it  pains 
me  at  my  very  soul,  that  I  am  dismissed,  or 
rather  cut  olf  from  the  honourable  and  de- 
lightful service  of  the  ministry.  But  to  be 
resigned,  perhaps,  is  better  than  to  labour  ; 
and  an  adoring  submission,  for  me  at  least, 
more  proper  than  a  zealous  application.  O 
may  I  bow  my  head,  and  dutifully  stand  in 
the  lot  which  the  almighty  sovereign  pleases 
to  assign  ! — Ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  LXXXVn. 

Lo?idon,  Saturdwj  night. 

My  DF.Aii   FiuKND, — I  congratulate  you 

on    's    recovery.       Why    do    j-ou  call 

her ?     It   is   a  strong   temptation    to 

vanity.  She  must  be  dee]dy  bnllastcd  with 
humility,  not  to  be  puifcd  up  at  such  a  title, 
which  assimilates  her  to  one  of  the  most 
lovely  and  accomplished  characters  that  ever 
was  described. 

O  that  we  all  may  be  recovered  from  that 
lethargic  indolence  which  deadens  our  at- 
tention to  the  one  thing  needful  !  What 
a  (rod  have  we  !  liow  immensely  glorious, 
and  how  little  do  we  reverence  him  !  What 
a  Saviour  !  how  unutterably  gracious  !  and 
how  little  do  we  love  him  ! — What  pro- 
mises !  how  inviolably  faithful !  yet  how 
feeble  is  our  affiance  in  them  ! — What  €i 
heaven  !  how  transcendently  delightful .' 
yet  how  languid  ire  our  desires  of  it  !  O 
that  the  blessed,  blessed  Redeemer  may 
baptize  us  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  with  a 
flaming  tire,  to  quicken,  animate,  and  kindle 
into  a  glow  of  devotion,  these  benumbed 
souls  of  ours  !  I  must  add  no  more,  only 
that  I  am,  with   griat  sincerity,   though  in 


My  dear  Friend. — I  am  glad  to  find 
that  the  beloved  traveller  called  at  yom' 
house,  and  gave  you  so  much  of  his  com- 
pany. Cold  as  the  weather  was,  did  not 
your  heart  burn  within  you  ?  burn  with  zeal 
and  love  for  that  all-glorious  God,  whom 
he  (excellent  man)  so  faithfully  serves  in  the 
gospel  of  his  Son  ? 

May  Mrs.  increase  in  humility,  be 

more  convinced  of  guilt,  more  sensible  of 
depravity  ;  and  then  she  will  grow  in  every 
other  grace.  Proud  minds  sufler  the  curse 
im))rccated  on  the  moimtains  of  Gilboa  ; 
while  humble  souls  are  like  the  valleys 
s[)read  forth  by  the  rivers,  or  as  a  field  which 
the  Lord  hath  blessed. 

I  think  you  should  not  have  shown  hc-r 
the  free  ren)ark  which  I  made  ;  it  was  well 

meant,  and  she  is  well  disposed,  but  human  [  great  haste,  inviolably  yours  &c. 
nature  is  very,  very  depraved.  And  per- 
haps there  is  no  greater  instance  of  it,  than 
our  proneness  to  take  ofience  at  the  leas'; 
disparaging  hint ;  nay,  sometimes  to  fancy 
ourselves  wronged,  if  we  are  not  extolled  to 
the  skies.  I  heartily  wish  the  blessed  Jesus 
may  give  this  young  lady  the  ornament  of  a 
meek  and  humble  spirit ;  that  being  lowly 
in  her  own  eyes,  she  may  be  exalted  by  the 
great  God. 

I  see  so  much  indigence,  and  so  many  dis- 
tressed objects,  that  I  begrudge  myself  all 
unnecessary  disbursements  of  money.  AVho 
would  indulge  too  much,  even  in  itmocent 
and  elegant  amusements,  and  thereby  lessen 
liis  ability  to  relieve,  to  cherish,  and  com- 
fort the  Lord  Jesus,  in  his  alllicted  mem- 
bers ? 

I  wish  you  could  ha\  e  preached  at  Col- 
linptree.     }:hi  poor  jieople  long  for  the  sin- 


LETTER  LXXXVIIL 

My  dear  Friend, — I  am  surprised  at 

what  you  say  relating  to  dear .      What 

evil  hath  he  done,  or  wherein  has  he  of- 
fended, that  disesteem  should  be  his  lot  ? 
Yet  what  are  such  instances  of  contempt, 
compared  with  the  rejjroachcs  and  insults 
ofifered  to  the  all-glorious  Redeemer  ?  God, 
I  trust,  will  bless  his  sermon  ;  and  so  much 
the  more  as  it  is  regarded  by  some  people 
with  an  evil  eye.  O  what  a  comfortable 
consideration  is  it,  that  the  success  of  our 
discourses  depends  not  upon  our  own  abili- 
ty, which  is  as  nothing ;  depends  not  upon 
the  favour  of  men,  which  is  veiy  capricious  ; 
but  depends  wholly  u])on  the  influence  of 


828 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS- 


that  almighty  Spirit,  whose  presence  is  un- 
limited, and  power  uncontrollable ! 

My  father  had  engaged  Mr. to  sup- 
ply at  Collingtree :  I  hope  he  grows  in 
grace,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord 
and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  Adieu,  my 
dear  friend,  adieu. 


LETTER  LXXXIX. 

London,  Feb.  23. 

Sm, — Mr. and  Mr. may  have 

tried,  and  may  repeat  their  attempts,  to 
silienate  the  affections  of  my  Collingtree 
hearers.  I  am  under  no  concern  with  re- 
gard to  myself.  Fragile  cnpiens  illidere 
dentem,  offeudet  solido,  will,  1  believe,  be  the 
issue  of  their  endeavours.  I  am  only  sorry, 
for  the  people's  sake,  that  they  should 
squander  away  their  ministerial  talents  and 
nnuisterial  labours  to  so  poor  a  purpose. 
Let  tliem  be  more  incessant  in  warning 
every  man,  and  teaching  every  man,  that 
they  may  present  every  man  perfect  in 
Christ  Jesus.  Thus  let  them  seek  to  win 
their  affections,  and  I  do  rejoice,  yea,  and 
will  rejoice,  in  their  success.  Dear  sir,  the 
way  to  secure  the  love  of  other.s  is,  to  love 
them,  to  pray  for  them,  and  with  a  willing 
assiduity  to  set  forward  their  true  happiness. 
This,  whenever  I  was  amongst  them,  my 
people  will  confess,  1  did  not  cease  to  do. 
And  the  God  of  heaven  knows  I  daily  bear 
tliem  on  my  heart,  and  often  recommend 
them  to  the  tenderest  mercies  of  our  ever- 
lasting Father.  Never,  therefore,  be  ap- 
prehensive of  my  losing  either  their  esteem 
with  regard  to  my  conduct,  or  their  affec- 
tion with  regard  to  my  person.  O  that 
their  precious  souls  were  as  firmly  united 
to  Christ,  as  their  favourable  opinion  is 
secured  to  me  !  Well,  should  neighbours 
undermine  us,  and  friends  forsake  us,  the 
adorable  and  all-condescending  God  is 
faithful.  He  changeth  no.t.  His  word  of 
grace  endureth  for  ever.  He  loves  his 
peojile  with  an  everlasting  love.  And  O 
what  worms,  what  dust,  what  mere  nothings, 
are  all  men,  are  all  creatures,  before  that 
infinitely  blessed  Author  of  all  perfection  ! 
What  a  sense  had  the  Psalmist  of  this 
weighty  truth,  when  he  poured  forth  that 
rapturous  exclamation,  "  Whom  have  I  in 
heaven  but  thee?  and  there  is  none,  there 
is  nothing  on  earth,  that  I  desire  in  com- 
parison of  thee !"  May  this,  my  dear 
friend,  be  the  continual  language  of  your 
heart ;  and  of  his,  who  hopes  to  be,  both  in 
time  and  to  eternity,  affectionately  yours, 
&c. 


LETTER  XC. 

Wednesday  morning,  Mile's-lane. 

Dear  Mr.  Nixon, — Your  obliging  let- 
ter found  me  at  my  brother's  in  Mile's- 
lane,  where  I  propose  to  abide  to  the  end 
of  the  week :  and  here  your  entertaining 
and  improving  company  would  be  a  favour, 
not  to  myself  only,  but  to  the  whole  family. 

I  am  indebted  to  your  good-natiu^e  for  so 
candidly  accepting  the  small  but  free  obser- 
vation made  in  my  last.  I  am  going  to 
run  myself  farther  in  debt,  by  proposing  to 
your  consideration  what  now  occurs  to  my 
thoughts.  The  enclosed  queries  I  submit 
entirely  to  your  judgment,  and  from  your 
determination  shall  make  no  appeal. 

1  have  read  Elihu  ;  and  very  much  ad- 
mire his  zeal  for  that  most  comfortable  doc- 
trine, the  righteousness  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  imputed  to  sinners  for  their  justifica- 
tion. I  highly  honour  also  his  distinguished 
veneration  for  that  incomparably  excellent 
book  the  Bible.  Surely  his  works  will  be 
a  means  of  causing  the  study  of  those  Xoyix 
^iivTce  to  revive.  Do  not  you  think  the 
style  is  masculine,  and  the  manner  enliven- 
ed ?  As  to  the  Hutchinsonian  peculiarities, 
I  do  not  pretend  to  be  a  competent  judge^ 
and  dare  not  peremptorily  condemn  them. 
Yet  they  seem  to  be  so  very  finely  sj)un, 
and  to  have  so  large  an  alloy  of  fancy,  that 
1  know  not  how  to  admit  them  for  sterling 
truth.     I  am   truly  concerned  to  hear  of 

Mr. 's  and  his  lady's  illness.     Dear 

sir,  what  a  fading  flower  is  health,  and  what 
an  expiring  vapour  is  life !  May  you  be  an 
instrument  of  bringing  souls  to  the  know- 
ledge of  the  adorable  God,  and  to  the  faith 
of  Jesus  Christ  whom  he  hath  sent ;  then 
they  will,  in  another  state  of  things,  possess 
a  vigour  that  is  subject  to  no  decay,  and 
enjoy  that  life  that  knows  no  end.  1  am, 
dear  sir,  your  obliged  and  affectionate  friend, 
&c. 

P.    S Is   "  lively   oracles"    an   exact 

translation  of  the  above-mentioned  Greek 
clause  ? 


LETTER  XCL 

London,  March  28,  1731. 
My  dear  Friend, — You  depend,  you 
say,  upon  my  promise :  and  see  how  readily 
it  is  performed.  And  if  you  depend  on 
the  execution  of  a  promise  from  a  frail,  frail 
creature ;  will  you  not  much  more  expect 
accomplishment  of  promises,  made  by  that 
adorable  Being  "  whose  counsels  of  old  are 
faithfulness  and  truth  ?"  O,  that  we  may 
not  dishonour  God's  goodness,  disparage 
his  veracity,  and  depreciate  his  dear  Son's 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


829 


unspeakiilile  merits,  by  unbelief,  base,  vile, 
destructive  unbelief! 

I  bave  not  an  ojjportunity  of  communi- 
cating your  news  to  our  dear  friend.  He 
has  left  London.  It  is  not  known  wben 
he  will  return.  He  is  not  expected  till 
some  months  are  expired  ;  and  who  knows 
how  many  may  be  gone  into  eternity  before 
that  period  is  arrived  ! 

You  ask  how  it  fares  with  my  health  ? 
You  may  remember,  that  I  have  more  than 
once  answered  such  an  inquiry  with  silence  ; 
for  I  do  not  like  to  be  upon  the  complaining 
string,  and  I  cannot  say  my  health  is  either 
restored  or  improved.  ^V'hen  your  letter 
came  (not  till  Tuesday  about  five  o'clock) 
it  found  me  in  a  state  of  extreme  languor. 
I  had  written  nothing,  done  nothing  since 
dinner.  Though  I  took  up  an  easy  and 
entertaining  book,  I  was  obliged  to  lay  it 
down  again.  Thus  I  spend,  rather  thus  I 
lose,  many  hours :  so  that  between  inter- 
vening company,  and  debility  of  spirits,  I 
make  but  a  very  slow,  scarce  any  progress 
in  my  intended  work. 

I  have  no  news,  though  at  the  great  mart 
of  intelligence.  My  sister  is  safely  deliver- 
ed of  a  son  ;  which  puts  one  in  mind  of  the 
glorious  piece  of  news,  celebrated  by  the 
angels,  and  foretold  with  a  rapturous  delight 
by  the  projihet,  "  To  us  a  Child  is  born ; 
to  us  a  Son  is  given.  His  name  shall  be 
the  Mighty  God ;"'  and  yet  his  office  shall 
be,  to  bear  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the 
tree.  May  this  news  be  ever  sounding  in 
the  ears,  and  ever  operative  on  the  hearts 
of  my  dear  friend,  and  of  his  ever  affection- 
ate, &c. 


to  know  him  !  Then  we  have  a  promise  ;  a 
promise  more  stable  than  the  foundations 
of  nature,  that  our  "  labour  shall  not  be  in 
vain  in  the  Lord."  Gold  has  no  value,  and 
diamonds  lose  their  lustre,  when  compared 
with   those  unsetirchable  riches  of  Christ, 

which  ]\Ir.  so  largely  enjoys  himself, 

and  so  freely  offers  to  others.  His  minis- 
try is  signally  owned  by  his  condesceaiding 
and  almighty  Master.  Many,  I  am  told, 
of  the  superior,  as  well  as  lower  orders  in 
life,  attend  his  ministry.  And  if  there  be 
efficacy  in  united  prayers  ;  if  there  be  zeal 
in  the  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  for  the  honour 
of  his  dear  Son  ;  if  there  be  faithfulness 
and  compassion  in  our  exalted  Saviour,  his 
labours  will,  they  will  be  blessed.  May 
they,  every  day,  every  hour,  be  blessed 
more  abundantly  !  Most  cordially  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  XCIL 

Tottenham,  May  30,  1751. 

My  dear  Fihend, — I  am  now  at  my 
brother's  country  house.     Pray  who  is  Mr. 

,  the  writer  of  the  letter  enclosed  in 

yours  ?  He  asks  me  to  get  him  a  curacy  ; 
little  aware  that  1  am  but  a  curate  myself. 
1  believe  the  world  has  a  notion,  that  I  am 
a  dignified,  or  a  beneficed  man  at  least. 
Dear  sir,  may  it  he  your  benefice  and  mine 
to  do  good  to  souls !  and  our  hichest  dig- 
nity to  glorify  the  ever-blessed  Redeemer  ! 
who  for  our  sake  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head,  till  he  was  numbered  with  the  trans- 
gressors, and  laid  in  the  silent  grave. 

I  hope  your  health  is  established  ;  and 
how  does  your  soul  prosjKT  ?  Do  not  you 
delight  to  think  of,  to  talk  of,  to  have  com- 
munion with,  that  wonderful,  that  amiable 
Being,  whom  to  know  is  wisdom,  whom  to 
enjoy  is  hapi)iness ;  hap])iness,  not  to  be 
described  by  words,  only  to  be  understood 
by  experience  ?  Oh  that  we  may  follow  on 


LETTER  XCIIL 

Tottenham,  July  2,  1751. 

]\Iy  dear   Friend, — I  hope  you  have 

done  with   Mr.  :    I  hope  your  house 

is  sufficiently  ornamented.  I  think  it  is 
rather  overstocked  with  decorations.  Now 
let  us  be  good  stewards  of  Jesus  Christ; 
employ  what  we  can  spare  for  the  honour 
of  his  blessed  name,  and  comfort  of  his  in- 
digent peojtle.  "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain,  to  receive  riches  as  well  as 
blessings  and  praise." 

Pray  do  not  mention  me  to  Mrs. . 

Though  I  honour  and  compassionate  her, 
I  am  not  fit  to  visit  her,  nor  qualified  to 
edify  her.  This  is  with  me  the  trying  sea- 
son of  the  year,  and  my  animal  nature  is  all 
relaxation.  O  that  1  may  be  strong  in 
fiiith!  that  precious  faith,  that  "  where  sin 
hath  abounded,  grace  will  much  more 
abound." 

Do   not    you   sometimes   see   our   dear 

friend ?  I  find  he  has  been  at  Bristol 

lately,  to  distribute,  I  do  not  doubt,  the 
waters  of  life,  far  more  precious  and  heal- 
ing than  the  waters  of  that  medicinal  spring. 
I^et  us  do  likewise.  "  For  yet  a  verj-,  very 
little  while  {/juikoov  oitov  oyov)  and  he  that 
shall  come,  will  come,  and  will  not  tany." 
Then  opportunities  of  spiritual  and  bodily 
cliarity  cease  for  ever. 

1  believe  it  is  four  months  since  I  heard 

from    Mr. How  ])recanous   human 

interchanges  of  kindness  !  what  a  blessing 
that  the  way  to  heaven  is  always  open ! 
Whotiever  we  will,  we  may  have  access  to 
God  through  the  blood  of  his  Son.  And 
"  he  never  failcth  them  that  seek  him." 

How  (Iocs  Mr.  go  on?  Do  not  you 

sometimes  stir  up  the  embers  in  his  heart, 
if  so  be  the  coals  may  glow,  and  the  fire  at 
length  burn  ?  I  hope  your  conversation  is 


831) 


A  COLLECTION 


blessed  to  Mrs. .     Glad  to  find   she 

admits  Mrs.  to  her  company  ;  a  godly 

sensible  woman,  who  understands,  relishes, 
talks  savourily  and  intelligently  on  the 
truths  of  the  gospel  :  Is  discreet  likewise  ; 
knows  how  to  keep  a  becoming  distance, 
and  will  not  make  a  wrong,  an  assuming  use 
of  a  lady's  condescension.  May  the  God 
of  heaven  bless  them  both,  and  give  them  to 
grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  And  what 
I  pray  for  them,  I  pray  for  my  dear  friend. 
Ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  XCIV. 

Tottenham,  July  14,  1751. 

My  dear  Frienh,  — I  am  sorry  to  hear 

your  account  of  Mr. .    See  what  snares 

are  around  us.  How  the  devil  endeavours 
to  obstruct  our  usefulness,  by  blemishing 
our  credit.  May  the  ministers  of  Christ  be 
upright  and  undefiied  in  the  way  !  or  else 
they  will  not  be  able  to  re})rove  and  exhort 
with  all  (no,  nor  with  any)  authority.  The 
God  of  power  and  faithfulness  says  of  his 
church,  says  of  his  people,  "  1  tiie  Lord 
keep  it,  I  will  water  it  every  mument,  lest 
any  hurt  it :  I  will  preserve  it  night  and 
day,"  Isa.  xxvii.  3.  May  this  promise  be 
our  shield  !  be  fulfilled  to  us  evermore  !  Do 
not  you  go  on,  my  dear  friend,  to  lay  up 
these  precious  pledges  of  heaven  in  your 
memory,  and  enrich  your  heart  from  them 
by  frequent  meditation  ?  They  are  the  seed 
of  faith.  By  these  we  are  to  be  "  made 
partakers  of  the  divine  nature!"  Partakers 
of  the  divine  nature  !  volumes  cannot  ex- 
plain what  is  comprised  in  those  few  words. 
May  we  know  what  they  mean,  by  happy, 
baj)py  experience  ! 

1  pity  poor  Rlr. ,  knowing  what  it  is 

to  be  in  a  state  of  languishing.  Ah  !  ah  ! 
my  dear  sir,  lay  up  a  stock  of  comfort,  get 
your  graces  lively  while  animal  nature 
blooms.  When  the  blast  of  sickness 
smites,  and  our  strength  becomes  labour 
and  sorrow,  how  miserable  must  be  oin- 
condition  without  an  interest,  an  establish- 
ed interest,  in  the  all-glorious  Kedeemer  ! 

Why  do  you  cherish  distrustful  thoughts 
of  the  blessed  God  ?  Is  he  not  boundless 
goodness  ?  Is  not  his  goodness  greater  than 
the  heavens  ?  Does  not  his  mercy,  that 
lovely  attribute,  endure  forever?  AH  the 
kindness  of  the  most  endeared  relations, 
compared  with  the  tender  compassions  of  a 
God  in  Christ,  are  no  better  than  cruelty 
itself.  Read  the  hist  chapter  of  Hosea. 
"  Hide  it  within  your  heart,"  Turn  it  into 
prayer  to  the  King  of  heaven  ;  and  I  hope 
jt  will  be  to  your  soul  as  the  dawning-day 
after  a  darksome  night. 


OF  LETTERS. 

Our  dear  fjiend  has  met  with  uncommon 
favour  and  acceptance.  Excellent  man  \ 
How  does  he  woik  while  it  is  day!  How 
sweet  to  such  a  labourer  will  be  heaven's 
everlasting  rest !  There  may  you  meet  him  ! 
and  there  find,  as  a  monument  of  infinitely 
free  grace  in  Christ,  your  truly  affectionate, 
&c. 


LETTER  XCV. 

Ort.  18,  1751. 

My  dear  Friend, — Two  of  your  lettei's 
are  now  before  me,  who  expected  long  ere 
this  to  have  been  before  the  Judge  of  quick 
and  dead.  Blessed  be  God  I  am  got  down 
stairs,  and  the  day  before  yesterday  went 
abroad  in  a  coach.  Oh  !  what  great  trou- 
bles and  adversities  bast  thou  shewed  me  ! 
yet  didst  thou  turn  and  refresh  me;  yea,  and 
brouglUest  me  from  the  depths  of  the  earth 
again.  Oh  I  my  dear  friend,  how  shall  I 
be  thankful?  May  that  infinitely  good  and 
gracious  God,  who  has  given  me  such  cause, 
give  me  power  to  be  grateful.  May  I  be 
enabled  to  devote  every  moment  of  that 
life  which  he  has  prolonged,  and  every  fa- 
culty of  that  body  which  he  hath  preserved  j 
devote  them  wholly  to  the  honour  of  his 
blessed  name. 

Poor  's  case  I  commiserate.     The 

charge  attending  my  illness  will  be  consi- 
derable ;  but  I  am  not  without  hopes  that 
my  father  will  be  so  good  as  to  defray  it, 
then  my  hands  will  not  be  straitened:  O 
that  my  bowels  may  never  be  straitened, 
but  may  I  "  draw  out  my  soul  to  the 
hungry." 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  a  seventh  edition 
of  Dr.  Stonehouse's  book  is  demanded. 
May  it  go  forth  in  the  name,  in  the  strength, 
and  for  the  honour  of  the  blessed  Jesus,  and 
may  it  prosper  !  though,  as  you  observe,  he 
and  I  think  differently  on  some  points ;  nor 
is  the  doctor  an  admirer  of  my  favourite  au- 
thor Mr.  Marshall.  The  acceptance,  how- 
ever, which  God  has  given  to  his  and  to  my 
own  writings,  should  send  both  of  usoftener 
to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  quicken  our  ap- 
plications to  the  divine  Goodness,  that  his 
all-powerful  Spirit  may  accompany  our  in- 
structions, and  make  them  a  real  blessing  to 
our  readers. 

I  write  as  a  poor  prisoner  that  lately  ex- 
pected to  have  the  sentence  of  death  exe- 
cuted, but  has  now  got  a  short,  uncertain 
reprieve.  I\Iay  I  never  forget  how  much 
I  shall  want  an  assured  faith  in  the  all-glo- 
rious Redeemer,  when  that  awful  change 
approaches.  Let  us  labour  after  such  a 
firm  establishment  in  Christ,  such  an  un- 
shaken affiance  in  his  merits,  and  such  an 
unfeigned  love  of  his  name,  as  may  make  it 


gain  to  (lie,  and  tlie  day  of  our  dissolution 
better  than  tlie  day  of  our  nativity.      Poor 

Dr. !   Oh!   may  he   and  his  aftlicted 

partner  find  consolation  in  the  f;iithfulness, 
the  goodness,  the  unsearchable  riches  of 
Christ !  Tlu-se,  apprehended  by  a  sweet, 
assuredj  soul-reviving  faith  ;  these,  I  say, 
are  our  sovereign  sujjfiort  under  all  trou- 
bles, and  our  most  elfectual  preservative 
from  all  temptations.  We  believe ;  blessed 
blessed  Jesus,  help  our  unbelief!  I  am,  my 
dear  sir,  ever  vours,  &c. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 

dear  sir,  your  very  ; 


LETTER  XCVL 

London,  Mile's-lane,  Dec.  3,  1751. 

Dear  I\Iii.  Nixon, — It  is  probable  you 
itiay  have  heard  of  my  late  dangerous  sick- 
ness ;  and  it  is  more  than  probable,  nay,  I 
look  upon  it  as  a  certainty,  that  your  good 
nature  has  admitted  this  circumstance  as  an 
excuse  for  my  silence.  Indeed,  dear  sir,  I 
was  sick,  and  nigh  unto  death.  Little  did 
I  think  of  writing  any  more  to  my  friends, 
or  of  being  written  any  longer  among  the 
living.  Oh  that  I  may  devote  the  life  that 
has  been  prolonged,  devote  it  wholly  to  the 
God  of  my  health  and  my  salvation  ! 

I  received  by  Dr.  your  quotation 

from  Plato,  proving  that  the  preposition 
avTi  bears  a  vicarious  signilication.  For 
which  be  pleased  to  accept  my  thanks.  It 
is  a  most  reviving  and  delightful  truth,  that 
Christ  hiis  suffered  in  our  stead,  and  bore 
all  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree. 
When  I  was  lately  upon  the  verge  of  eter- 
nity, and  just  going  to  launch  into  the  invi- 
sible world,  I  coidd  tind  consolation  in  no- 
thing but  this  precious,  precious  faith.  If 
all  my  iniquities  were  laid  upon  the  beloved 
Son,  they  will  never  be  laid  to  my  charge 
in  the  day  of  judgment.  If  the  blessed  Je- 
sus made  fidl  satisfaction  for  my  transgres- 
sions, the  righteous  God  will  never  demand 
two  payments  of  one  debt.  What  an  an- 
chor for  the  soul  is  such  a  belief !  how  sure, 
how  steadfast !  May  it  be  our  solace  in  life 
and  our  security  in  death  ! 

A  volume  of  letters,  written  by  the  Earl 
of  Orrery  to  his  son,  has  very  much  capti- 
vated the  attention  of  the  public.  Dr. 
Brown's  Remarks  too  upon  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury's Characteristics  are,  I  think,  equally 
worthy  of  universal  acceptance.  It  is  a  re- 
fined entertainment  to  peruse  such  elegant 
and  judicious  compositions ;  but  how  flat 
are  they  all,  how  jejune  and  spiritless,  com- 
pared with  the  sincere  milk  of  the  word, 
the  lively  oracles  of  God-  I  hope  they  will 
always  prove  a  whet  to  our  spiritual  a])pe- 
tite  ;  quicken  our  desires,  and  heighten  our 
relish  of  that  heavenly  manna  which  is 
spread  over  every  page   of  the   Eible.      1 


am, 
&c. 


iffectionat( 


831 

friend, 


LETTER  XCVIL 

Londoiu  Jan.  14,  1752. 

My  BEAR  Friend, — I  know  you  will 
excuse  my  long  silence,  and  acquit  me  on 
the  receipt  of  this  letter,  though  I  own 
myself  in  your  debt  for  another.  When  I 
have  a  lucid  or  a  lively  interval,  I  think  it 
my  duty  to  employ  it  in  attempting  to  finish 
my  little  vvork  ;  which,  alas !  proceeds  as 
slowly  as  my  blood  creeps  heavily  through 
my  veins.  Happy,  happy  they,  who  have 
firmness  of  nerve,  and  fertility  of  thought, 
and  are  enabled  to  devote  them  both  to  their 
gracious  Redeemer's  service. 

Please  to  pay  my  best  thanks  to  Dr.  Cot- 
ton for  his  very  delicate  Visions.  I  wish 
they  may  do  good,  and  promote  virtue  ;  then, 
I  am  persuaded,  they  will  answer  the  bene- 
volent intention  of  the  author.  I  wish,  at 
the  same  time,  that  lie  would  be  a  little  ex- 
plicit and  courageous  for  Jesus  Christ.  He 
deserves  it  at  our  hands,  who  for  our  sake 
endured  the  cross,  and  despised  the  shame : 
he  will  iecom])ense  it  into  our  bosom  by 
owning  us  before  his  Father  and  the  holy 
angels.  Nor  can  I  ever  think  that  the 
spread  of  our  performances  will  be  ob- 
structed by  pleasing  him  who  has  all  hearts 
and  all  events  in  his  sovereign  hand.  A 
vision  upon  death,  without  a  display  of 
Christ,  seems  to  me  like  a  body  without  a 
heart,  or  a  heart  without  animal  spirits.  I 
am  sure,  when  I  was  lately  (as  myself  and 
every  one  apprehended)  on  the  brink  of 
eternity,  I  found  no  consolation  but  in 
Christ.  Then  I  felt,  what  I  had  so  often 
read,  that  there  is  no  other  name  given  un- 
der heaven  whereby  man  may  obtahi  life  and 
salvation,  but  only  the  name,  the  precious 
and  inestimable  namfi  of  Jesus  Christ.  Oh! 
tliat  its  savour  may  be  to  us,  both  living  and 
dying,  "  as  ointment  poured  out." 

Tell  ]\Irs. ,  that  she  has  not  offend- 
ed me  ;  but  I  am  grieved  that  I  should  give 
her  occasion  for  such  a  suspicion. 

You  refer  me  to  '1  Esdras  v.  03.  "  And 
I  said,  speak  on,  my  Lord ;  tlien  said  he 
unto  me,  thou  art  sore  tiouljlcdin  mind  for 
Israel's  sake  :  lovest  thou  that  jieople  bet- 
ter than  he  that  made  them  ?"  It  is  a  sweet 
passage,  a  noble  and  comfortable  truth  ;  and 
the  apparent  doctrine  cf  Scripture,  however 
found  in  an  ai)ocryj)hal  book.  Oh  !  that 
we  may  seek  more  assiduously  to  our  all- 
condescending  and  onmipotent  friend.  He 
will  never  upbraid  us  for  our  importunity  ; 
he  will  never  disajjpoint  our  ho])e;  he  is 
able  to  do  exceeding  abimdantly  above  all 
that  we  can  ask  or  think  ;  and,   blessed  for 


832 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


ever  be  his  name,  as  his  power,  so  is  his 
love  to  iiis  people,  his  children,  his  lieirs. 
In  this  ))lessed  number  may  he  rank  my  dear 
iriend,  and  his  ever  affectionate,  &c. 


LETTER  XCVIIL 

Mle's-lane,  March  24,  1752. 
My  dear  Friend, — I  received  your 
favour.  I  congratidate  you  on  your  success 
in  your  profession.  Moses  says,  "  It  is 
God  who  giveth  power  to  get  wealth."  May 
such  accessions  of  pros])enty  enlarge  your 
heart  with  gratitude,  and  attach  your  affec- 
tions to  our  divine  benefactor  !    I  ajn  sorry 

to  hear  your  account  of  dear ,     O  that 

we  may  be  taught  (poovuv  m  ro  ffii(p^oniM. 
"  Lord  lead  me  in  a  plain  way,"  was  the 
prayer  of  a  noble  sufferer.  May  the  thing 
that   he    prayed   for  be   the  desire   of  our 

heart,  and  guide  of  our  life I  will  very 

readily  give  him  some  Bibles;  if  he  (for  he 
is,  if  I  mistake  not,  a  member  of  the  So- 
ciety for  Promoting  Christian  Knowledge) 
wDl  send  me  an  order  in  his  name,  a  dozen 
shall  be  at  his  service.  I  shall  think  my 
own  books  are  published  to  good  purpose, 
if  they  enable  the  author  to  distribute  the 
invaluable  book  of  God. 

Upon  retlecrion,    I   charge   myself  with 

folly  for  putting  it  into  Mr.    's   power 

to  communicate  a  certain  rumour.  The 
wise  man  says,  humorously  and  sarcasti- 
cally, "  Ventiu'e  to  conceal  a  secret,  and 
behold  it  will  not  burst  thee."  Intimating 
withal,  that  a  secret  in  most  people's  breast 
is  like  fermenting  liquor  in  a  cask,  which 
must  have  vent,  or  else  it  will  burst  the 
vessel.     Therefore, 

Qu  d  de  quoque  viro,  et  cui  dicas,  stepe  caveto. 


Mr. 


-'s  last  piece  I  have  not  read 


through.  I  cannot  say  I  am  fond  of  that 
controversy.  The  doctrine  of  the  peree- 
verance  of  Christ's  servants,  Christ's  child- 
ren, Christ's  spouse,  and  Christ's  members, 
I  am  thoroughly  persuaded  of.  Predesti- 
nation and  reprobation  I  think  of  with  fear 
and  trembling.  And  if  I  should  attempt 
to  study  them,  I  would  study  them  on  my 
knees. 

I   wish   you  would  ask   Dr.  S 's 

opinion  about  E])h.  iv.  IG.  with  relation  to 
the  anatomical  propriety  of  the  passage ; 
and,  with  his,  give  me  your  own,  I  know 
not  what  to  do  about  publishing. — May 
the  Father  of  lights  direct  me  !  and  not 
suffer  me,  either  to  write  improperly,  or 
to  print  })recipitately  !  With  thanks  for  your 
letter,  and  with  prayers  for  your  increase  in 
faith,  in  love,  and  holiness ;  or  in  that  "  king- 
dom  of  God,  which  is  righteousness,  and 


peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost,"  I  am, 
ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  XCIX. 

Mile's-lane,  1752. 

Dear  Mr.  Nixon, — I  am  obliged  to  yoa 
for  the  favour  done  me  by  your  letter,  and 
for  the  honour  done  me  by  your  verses  to  be 
engraved  under  my  mezzotinto  picture.  I 
should  have  acknowledged  both  these  obli- 
gations sooner,  if  my  printseller  had  not 
been  dilatory  in  publishing  the  picture ; 
which  is  now  transmitted  to  Dr.  Stone- 
house,  and  desires  your  acceptance. 

I  cannot  forbear  thinking  that  what  is 
called  honour  is  a  little  capricious  and  whim- 
sical. I,  for  my  part,  had  taken  my  final 
leave  of  her ;  expected  none  of  her  favours, 
and  was  become  familiarly  acquainted  with 
contempt.  How  is  it  then  that  she  singles 
out  a  person  whose  name  has  long  ago  been 
struck  out  of  her  list ;  and  bestows  her  ca- 
resses upon  a  mean  creature,  that  has  been 
used  to  sit  on  the  dunghill  ?  Oh  that  it  may 
be  for  the  glory  of  Christ's  grace,  Christ's 
wisdom,  Christ's  power  !  May  1  serve  to 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  as  a  cloud  is  sub- 
servient to  the  sun  in  the  firmament,  which, 
though  all-gloomy  in  itself,  exhibits  a  rain- 
bow ;  and  thereby  shows  the  world  what 
beautiful  colours  are  combined  in  that  mag- 
nificent luminary. 

You  are  pleased  to  inquire  after  my  little 
work  ;  dear  sir,  add  to  your  kind  inquiries 
a  prayer  to  God,  that  it  may  be  executed 
under  the  anointings  of  his  spirit,  and  ap- 
pear (if  ever  it  appears)  under  the  influence 
of  his  blessing.  My  late  sickness  laid  an 
absolute  embargo  upon  it  for  a  considerable 
time  ;  and  has  so  shattered  my  feeble  con- 
stitution, that  1  proceed  like  a  vessel  that 
has  lost  its  rigging,  and  is  full  of  leaks. 
However  slowly  I  advance  in  this  essay, 
may  1  grow  daily  in  grace,  and  in  the  know- 
ledge of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ; 
and  meet  you,  dear  sir,  in  that  happy,  happy 
haven,  where  we  both  would  be.  Till  then 
be  pleased  to  rank  in  the  number  of  your 
sincere  and  affectionate  friends,  your  obliged 
humble  servant,  &c. 


LETTER  C — To  his  Mother. 

April  6. 
Honoured  Madam, — I  received  your 
favour  of  the  4th  instant.  Am  very  sorry 
to  find  my  lather  is  so  ill.  Hope  and  ear- 
nestly pray  that  the  great  eternal  Lord  of 
life  and  death  will  rebuke  his  disorder,  and 
restore  him  to  health.     You  need  not  doubt 


A  COLLliCTION 

»>f  belnpr  rcmpmLercil  in  my  sii])[)licatioii*  to 
tlie  lliioin'  of  iinu-ti  :  ()  that  tliey  were  bet-  I 
tor!  O  that  they  pi-oceeded  t'roiii  tiniicr 
I'liitli,  iiiiil  were  accompanied  with  f,'realer 
fervour  ?  Poor  and  weak  as  tliey  are,  they 
are  often  put  up  in  behalf  of  my  honoured 
jiarents,  that  the  (Jod  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  may  strengthen  them 
with  all  might,  iu-cording  to  his  glorious 
power,  unto  all  patience  and  long- suffering 
with  joyfulness  ;  may  give  them  an  humble 
resignation  to  his  blessed  will;  enable  them 
to  rejoice  even  in  their  tribulations,  and 
make  all  things  work  together  for  their 
good,  their  exceeding  great  and  everlasting 
good. 

I  have,  in  obedience  to  your  orders,  put 
my  aifaiis  in  readiness  to  leave  the  city  ; 
but  hope  there  will  be  no  occasion  tor  such 
a  sjjeedy  removal,  liut  if  I  should  come, 
alas!  what  cun  I  do?  ]\Iy  weakness  is  in- 
conceivable. None  can  know  it  but  the 
all-searching  God.  I  am  evidently  Avorse, 
now  the  milder  weather  is  advancing. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  my  sister  holds  well. 
God  always  mingles  our  cup  of  affliction 
with  some  sweetening  drops.  None  but 
t^hrist,  that  dear  and  adored  Redeemer, 
none  but  Christ  had  gall  without  any  honey, 
i;nd  vengeance  without  any  mercy.  Bless- 
ed be  his  most  holy  name  for  enduring  all 
kind  of  misery,  that  we  might  want  no  man- 
ner of  tiling  that  is  good.      I  am,  Sec. 


OF  LETTERS. 


83S 


LETTER  CI. 

Tottenham,  Oct.  18,  1751. 

Dear  Sir, — What  shall  I  say,  or  how 
shall  I  excuse  myself?  I  seem  to  be  in  the 
condition  of  Pharaoh's  butler,  who  remem- 
bered not  his  gO(jd  friend  Joseph,  but  forgat 
him.  Yet  be  assured,  dear  sir,  that  I  have 
not  forgot  your  kindness  ;  I  have  retained  a 
warm  sense  of  gratitude  in  my  breast.  The 
reason  of  my  not  acknowledging  your  favour 
sooner,  was  this, — I  proposed  to  have  trans- 
mitted my  piece  to  your  hands,  (that  part  of 
it  at  least  which  was  to  be  enriched  witii 
your  owu  thoughts,)  that  it  might  have  tlie 
advantage  of  your  critical  revisul,  and  judi- 
cious corrections. 

But  extreme  weakness  of  body  has  re- 
tarded me  in  accomplishing,  has  almost 
rendered  me  incapable  of  i)rosecuting  the 
work  ;  to  all  whicii  iniirmities,  the  provi- 
dence of  our  all-wise  heavenly  Father  has 
been  pleased  to  superadd  a  violent  lever, 
which  coniined  me  tor  eight  weeks,  and 
brought  me  to  the  very  i)rmk  of  the  grave. 
1  beg  of  you,  dear  sir,  to  accept  my  best 
thanks  for  your  letter,  and  its  valuable  con- 
tents ;  though  late  in  their  anival,  they  are 
Very  sincere  in  their  tender.     1   hope   you 


will  give  me  leave  to  be  obliged  to  you  fo' 
one  favour  more.  If  ever  the  Divine  good- 
iKss  shall  enable  me  to  complete  my  d(,'sign, 
allow  me  to  put  it  under  your  examination  ; 
I  shall  send  it  abroad  into  the  world  with 
much  less  trepidation,  with  much  greater 
satisfaction,  if  it  has  undergone  the  scrutiny 
of  your  judgment,  and  received  the  correc- 
tion of  your  pen.  I  am,  at  least  I  wish  to 
he,  sensible  of  my  own  incapacity  for  hand- 
ling the  glorious,  the  divinely  excellent 
truths  of  God's  everlasting  gospel.  If  the 
apostle,  who  had  been  caught  uj)  into  the 
thiid  heaven,  could  not  forbear  crying  out 
with  so  much  vehemence,  "  Who  is  sufli- 
cient  for  these  things  ?"  what,  O  what  shall 
I  say !  Indeed,  I  have  much  fear  and 
trembling  of  heart,  lest  I  should  give  some 
wrong  touch  to  the  ark  ;  or  by  any  impru- 
dent, though  officious  kit.s,  betray  my  divine 
Master  to  his  enemies,  rather  than  recom- 
mend him  to  the  world.  Good  sir,  assist 
me  with  your  prayers,  that  if  I  write,  I  may 
be  anointed  with  that  miction  from  the 
Holy  One,  which  may  teach  me  all  things, 
and  lead  me  into  all  truth,  which  may  fur- 
nish me  with  the  tongue  of  the  learned,  and 
give  me  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer. 

Have  you  seen  I\Ir.  '1  aylor's  late  Trea- 
tise on  the  Sacrifice  and  Atonement  of 
Jesus  Christ  ?  If  you  have,  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  what  remarks  occuned  to  your 
mind  on  the  perusal.  As  you  are  a  lover 
of  natural  philosophy,  I  wish  you  would 
consider  the  blessing  of  Joseph,  Deut. 
xxxiii.  13 — 16,  and  favour  me  with  your 
sentiments  upon  that  beautiftd  passage,  i 
should  not  make  either  this  or  the  preced- 
ing request,  if  I  had  not  the  highest  opinion 
of  the  freedom  and  fidelity  of  your  temper, 
and  the  accurate  discernment  of  your  un- 
derstanding. As  the  blessed  God  has  been 
pleased  to  deaden  your  sense  of  hearing, 
may  he  daily  quicken  your  spiritual  senses 
to  discern  both  good  and  evil.  ]\Iay  he  give 
you  to  hear  the  sweet  and  still  voice  of  his 
good  Spirit  witnessing  with  your  spirit,  that 
you  are  the  child  of  God  and  an  heir  of 
glory!  And  would  you  imjdore  the  same 
blessing  for  your  unworthy  liicnd,  it  would 
be  a  kindness  most  gratefully  to  be  acknow- 
ledged by,  dear  sir,  your  much  obliged  ijid 
all'ectionato  servant,  &c. 

P.  S. —  \v'e  have  put  one  of  Mr.  Moses 
Browne's  children  apprentice  to  a  hanrisoine 
business  ;  and  it  will  be  a  |)leasuie  to  »io  so 
worthy  a  man  all  the  service  that  lies  in  my 
power. 


LETTER  CIL 

London,  Mile's-hne,  Dec.  22,  1751. 
Dear   Sistku, — Yesterday  in  the  after- 
noon, ]\Ir.  and  his  uiothrr  e.dkd  upon 


S34 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


me  :  lie  offered  to  convey  a  letter,  or  a!!y 
message,  to  "Weston.  I  could  not  neglect 
this  opportunity  of  sending  you  my  best 
wishes,  and  the  congratulations  of  the  sea- 
son. 

Please  to  thank  my  mother  for  her  kind 
letter.  The  wine  was  to  have  come  last 
week,  but  my  brother  forgot  to  give  the 
necessary  orders,  until  it  was  too  late.  I 
hope  no  such  disappointment  will  happen, 
if  we  live  to  see  the  end  of  this  week.  I 
wish  you  much  of  the  dinne  presence,  and 
iov  of  tlie  Lord  in  using  it.  May  we  all 
"drink  of  those  living  waters  which  Christ 
Jesus  has  promised  in  his  gospel,  of  which 
thev  who  drink  shall  thirst  no  more ;  but 
they  shall  be  in  them  a  well  of  water  spring- 
ing np  into  everlasting  life.  Pray  let  me 
know  what  those  liwng  waters  mean? 

I  have  no  present  to  make  you  this 
Christmas,  unless  you  will  accept  one  from 
God's  holy  word.  In  the  9th  chapter  of 
Isaiah  it  is  foretold,  that  poor  sinners  shall 
not  only  have  a  good  hope,  but  shall  even 
rejoice  before  God  ;  rejoice  with  exceeding 
p-eat  joy  ;  such  as  the  husbandman  feels, 
when  he  gathers  in  his  harvest,  and  receives 
the  reward  of  all  his  toil ;  such  as  the  soldier 
experiences,  when  he  has  conquered  his 
enemy,  and  is  dividing  the  spoil. 

"Wiiat  shall  be  the  source  of  this  joy? 
their  worldly  wealth  ?  Al:;s,  riches  make 
themselves  "wings,  and  tly  away.  They 
profit  not  in  the  day  of  wrath — Their  car- 
nal pleasures  ?  The"se  are  always  froth,  and 
frequently  gall.  To  be  enamoured  \vith 
these,  is  death. — Their  ovni  good  deeds? 
These  are  a  broken  reed,  a  filthy  rag  ;  mid 
should  cover  us  Mith  confusion,  not  till  us 
with  conceit.  Whence  then  is  this  joy  to 
flow?  From  Christ,  wholly  from  Christ: 
he  is  the  rich  gift  of  God,  he  is  the  pearl  of 
great  price  ;  the  only  consolation  of  sinners, 
and  the  supreme  joy  of  his  people.  There- 
fore the  prophet  adds,  in  the  language  of 
triumph  and  exultation,  "  To  us  a  child  is 
bom  ;  to  us  a  Son  is  given,  and  the  govern- 
ment shall  be  upon  his  shoulder,  and  his 
name  shall  be  called  Wonderful,  Counsel- 
lor, the  ]\Iighty  God,  the  Everlasting 
Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace."  This  Child 
is  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  the  foundation  of 
all  our  comfort,  the  spring  of  all  true  de- 
light. He  is  the  Son  of  the  Most  High, 
yet  given  to  be  made  man,  to  be-  made  a 
sacrifice,  to  be  made  a  curse,  for  us.  So 
gieat,  that  the  government  of  universal 
nature  is  upon  his  shoulder.  The  sceptre 
of  supreme  authority  is  in  his  hand  ;  he  is 
"  Head  over  all  things  to  his  church."  So 
glorious,  that  his  name  shall  be  called  Won- 
derful. God  and  man  in  one  matchless  and 
marvellous  person,  clothed  with  clay,  yet 
possessed  of  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead: 
like  Jacob's  ladder ;   whose  foot  was  fixed 


on  earth,  while  the  summit  was  lost  in  the' 
skies.  So  gracious,  that  he  is  the  Counsel- 
lor, to  instruct  ignorant  creatures,  and  by 
his  word  and  Spirit  make  them  wise  unto 
salvation.  "  The  IMighty  God  ;''  to  subdue 
our  iniquities,  to  WTite  his  laws  in  our 
hearts,  and  make  us  partakers  of  a  di\ine 
nature.  "  The  Prince  of  Peace ;"  recon- 
ciling us  to  God  by  his  death,  and  making 
peace  by  the  blood  of  his  cross  ;  by  apply- 
ing these  blessings  to  our  consciences,  fill- 
ing us  with  that  peace  of  God  which  pass- 
eth  all  understanding.  "  The  Everlasting 
Father ;"  to  cherish  us  under  the  wings  of 
his  providence  and  grace,  to  make  all  things 
work  together  for  our  good,  and  prepare  for- 
us  an  everlasting  inheritance  ;  even  the  in- 
heritance incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that 
fadeth  not  away.  O  may  the  adorable  Re- 
deemer be  all  this  to  us  !  The  prophet  re- 
peats this  expression,  Tv  us.  This  circum- 
stance is  of  the  last  importance.  Then  only 
is  Christ  our  Fountain  of  life,  and  full  of 
delights,  when  he  is  all  this,  does  all  this, 
to  us,  even  to  us. 

Let  this  Scripture  be  the  subject  of  our 
meditation  amidst  tlie  approaching  solemni- 
ty- And  may  an  everlasting  sense  of  its 
blessings  give  an  additional,  a  heavenly 
relish  to  all  our  other  entertainment !  i  am 
yoiu-  affectionate  brother,  &c. 


LETTER  CIIL 

Pear  Sir, — It  is  not  the  diffieulty  of 

answering  Dr. 's  questions  that  makes 

me  avoid  it,  but  the  di.sagreeable  nature  of 
the  office  ;  as  it  will  oblige  me  to  shew  that 
he  entirely  mistakes  both  the  nature  of  tha 
Scriptures,  and  the   nature  of  man.      He 

would   make    Dr. 's    and   Dr.   's 

sentiment  of  things  the  touchstone  of  di- 
vine revelation.  What  is  level  to  their 
apprehensions,  must  be  right ;  what  com- 
ports with  their  notions,  must  be  true.  At 
this  rate,  they  are  not  doers  of  the  law,  but 
judges.  On  the  contrary,  if  they  do  not 
understand  the  doctrine  of  union  wi  h 
Christ,  or  the  titness  of  free  justification  iq 
promote  holiness,  it  is  because  their  under- 
standings are  darkened  ;  it  is  a  >ign,  that 
they  want  the  eye-salve ;  a  proof,  that  the'r 
senses  are  not  exercised  to  discern  between 
good  and  evil. 

Dr.  has  Roman  virtue ;  but  indeed 

he  very  much  wants  the  eye- salve.  He 
sees  no  glory  and  comeliness  in  Christ,  but 
much  in  his  own  conformity  to  the  com- 
mands of  his  Maker.  While  such  senti- 
ments possess  the  mind,  people  have  no 
eyes  to  discern  the  beauty  of  free  grace. 
Christ  is  just  as  insignificant,  as  the  physi- 
cian's oti'viiing  to  prescribe  for  a  person  in 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


835 


perfect  health.  I  am  sure,  my  poor,  lame, 
mangled  conformity  to  my  Maker's  com- 
mands, tills  me  with  sliame,  and  would  make 
nie  hann;  down  my  head  as  a  bidnish.  But 
my  Lord's  dtath,  my  Lord's  obedience,  my 
divine  Lord's  merit,  encourages  mo,  imhold- 
ens  me,  and  enables  me  to  say,  Who  sliall 
condemn  me  'f    Be  jdeased,  by  the  bye.  to 

compare  Dr. 's  foundation  for  comfort 

and  confidence  with  St.  Paul's,  Rom.  viii. 
O:},  84.  AVho  is  in  the  right  I  leave  you  to 
determine.  I  will  only  venture  to  assert, 
that  Paul  of  Tarsus  had  as  much  conformi- 
ty to  the  commands  of  his  Maker  as  our 
amiable  friend.  Oh  that  he  was  less  amia- 
ble in  his  own  eyes  ;  and  knew  himself  to 
be  "  wretched,  and  miserable,  und  poor,  and 
blind,  and  naked."     See  Rev.  iii.  17. 

Is/,  "  A  persuasion  of  our  reconciliation 
to   God,    jjrevious   to  our    performance   of 

holy  duties."     Dr.  asks,  what  is  the 

foundation  of  such  a  persuasion  ?  To  which 
I  answer,  the  doctrine  delivered  by  St.  Paul, 
Rom.  V.  10.  "  When  we  were  enemies, 
we  were  reconciled  to  God  by  the  death  of 
his  Son."  From  this  passaf,'e  he  will  see, 
that  reconciliation  to  (Jod  is  previous  to 
oiu'  performance  of  holy  duties.  It  is  a 
blessing  ])rocured  for  enemies  ;  and  to  say, 
that  enemies  have  jjerformed  holy  duties,  is 
to  confound  the  difference  between  rebels 
and  subjects  ;  is  to  make  rebellion  and  alle- 
giance the  same.  Nay,  more,  this  blessing 
has  no  manner  of  de])endence  on  our  per- 
formance of  holy  duties,  because  it  is  pro- 
cured, not  partially,  but  wholly  procured  by 
the  death  of  Christ.  It  is  not  said,  when 
we,  who  were  some  time  enemies,  began  to 


The  Doctor  urges  our  Lord's  words, 
"  Ye  are  my  friends,  if  ye  do  whatsoever  I 
command  you."  Wandering  from  the  point 
again.  The  question  is,  How  we  shall  be 
animated,  strengthened,  and  enabled  to  do 
them  ? 

Upon  this  subject  reason  tells  us,  that 
such  a  discharge  of  religious  duties  can 
aloiie  convince  a  Christian  of  the  sincerity 
of  his  profession.  It  may  be  so  :  but  pray, 
Madam  Reasoii,  do  not  be  impertinent,  we 
did  not  ask  your  opinion  upon  the  point ; 
if  you  would  speak  to  the  pm-pose,  you 
must  tell  us,  how  we  may  be  enabled  to 
discharge  these  religious  duties.  Does 
your  ladyship  know,  which  is  the  first  reli- 
gious duty  ?  I  question  it ;  be  content 
therefore,  to  receive  information  from 
Scripture  :  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy 
God  with  all  thy  heart."     This  is  the  first 

religious  duty  :  now  tell  Dr.  and  me, 

tell  us  honestly  and  explicitly,  how  we  call 
perform  this  duty?  Is  it  possible  to  love 
the  Lord,  to  love  him  with  all  our  heart,  if 
we  look  upon  him  as  incensed  against  us, 
unreconciled  to  us  '  Is  it  possible  to  love 
him,  when  we  apprehend  ourselves  to  be 
under  his  wrath,  or  suspect  that  he  will 
prove  an  enemy  to  us  at  the  last  ? 

The  Doctor  having  a  higher  opinion  of 
reason*  than  \,  is  a  greater  favourite  with 
her;  I  would  therefore  'oeg  to  know  of  him, 
what  reply  she  makes  to  this  interrogatory'; 
and  I  promise  beforehand,  that  I  will  siaiid 
to  her  award,  if  she  can  point  out  any 
method  of  ])ractisnig  this  dury,  miferent 
from  that  proposed  by  Mr.  Marshall;  then 
my  favoiu-ite  author  and  myself  will  submit 


perform  holy  duties;  but   wlien  we  were  to  the  charge  of  enthusiasm 


enemies,  while  we  were  enemies,  and  con- 
sidered only  as  enemies.  Then,  even  then. 
—  Wondrous  grace  !  grace  worthy  of  a  God  ! 
Will  not  such  grace  incline  the  rebels  to 
throw  down  their  arms  ? 

The  Doctor,  having  laid  down  some  pre- 
mises, makes  this  inference  :  '•  iience  the 
phrase  of  our  reconciliation  to  God,  when 
we  have  renounced  our  sins."  Rut  does 
this  inference  tally  with  the  apostle's  de- 
claration, or  is  it  the  proper  consequence  of 
his  <loctrine?  Let  not  the  acute  disputant, 
but  the  wayfaring  man,  judge. 

"  Our  blesseii  Saviour,"  adds  the  Doctor, 
"  directly  asserts,  that  the  performance  of 
religious  duties  is  the  sole  evidence  of  re- 
conciliation." We  are  not  inquiring  about 
the  evidences  of  reconciliation,  but  about 
the  way  to  acquire  them.  To  determine 
what  are  the  evidences  of  a  cin-e,  is  easy 
enough ;  but  to  ))re>-cribe  the  expeditious 
and  certain  method  of  working  the  cure, 
this  is  the  thiiii,'  we  want.  Here,  accord- 
ing to  mv  poor  opinion,  Mr.  Marshall  ex- 
cels as  much  in  the  spiritual,  as    Dr.  

in  the  animal  'J^erujieutica. 


(Ill/,  "  A  persuasion  of  our  future  enjoy- 
ment of  the  heaveidy  hajjpiness,  previous  to 
our  performance  of  holy  duties." 

I  ask  Mr.  Hervey,  "  What  is  the  foun- 
dation of  such  a  persuasion  ?"  Mr-  Her- 
vey answers,  Our  free  justification  through 
Jesus  t'hiist,  which  we  receive  under  the 
character  of  ungodly  persons  ;  consequently 
before  the  performance  of  good  works, 
Kom.  iv.  .5.  I  answer  again.  The  free 
promise  of  (Jod  :  "  God  hath  given  unto 
us  eternal  life,"  1  John  v.  II.  But  is  not 
this  promise  founded  on  our  own  duties 
and  obedience  ?  No  ;  but  on  the  duties  imd 
obedience  of  our  great  Mediator.  '•  This 
life  is  in  his  Son." 

In  the  first  book  of  the  sacred  writings 
is  this  important  interrogatory,  made  by 
God  himself,  "  If  thou  dust  well,  shalt 
thou  not  be  accepted  ?"  Here  I  beg  leave 
to  ask,  in  my  turn.  Which  is  the  person 
who  does  well  ?  Dr.  ,  who  would  per- 
suade us  to  reject  the  gift  of  God,  I  John 
V.  11.    and  not   believe  his  word  ?  or  Mr- 


«  Heasoii,  I  nieau,  in  hei  pre^^ent  fallen  itats. 


83G 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


Marsliall,  who  would  eiigiii;e  us  to  crcf'it  j  apostle  of  the  Gentiles  by  office,   tells 


the  divine  declaration,  and  receive  the  di 
vine  gift  ?  The  ajiostle  says,  by  not  believ- 
ing this  record,  "  we  make  God  a  liar," 
]  John  V.  10.  And  shall  we  call  this 
doing  well  ?  or  is  this  the  way  to  be  ac- 
cepted ? 

The  Doctor  farther  urges,  In  the  very 
last  chapter  of  the  same  sacred  volumes  we 
ai'e  told,  "  Blessed  are  they  who  do  his 
commandments,  that  they  may  have  a  right 
to  the  tree  of  life."  Let  me  ask  again. 
Does  the  Doctor  remember  what  the  com- 
mandments of  the  Almighty  are?  He  may 
see  them  reduced  to  two  particulars,  and 
ranged  in  the  exactest  order,  1  John  iii. 
23.  The  first  of  these  commandments  is, 
"  That  we  believe  on  the  name  of  his  Son 
Jesus  Christ."  Let  the  Doctor  only  inter- 
pret this  precept,  tell  me  what  is  included 
in  this  injunction,  and  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  he  will  find  each  of  Mr.  Marshall's 
jireliminary  articles  contained  in  its  import. 
To  believe  in  Christ,  is  to  live  under  a  per- 
suasion that  he  has  died  to  reconcile  me  to 
God  ;  that  he  has  obeyed  to  obtain  eternal 
life  for  me  ;  and  intercedes  in  heaven  that 
I  may  receive  the  Holy  Ghost  the  Com- 
forter. Take  away  these  ingredients  from 
faith,  and  its  spirit  evaporates  ;  its  very  life 
eN])ii<"^  ;  you  have  nothing  left  but  a  mere 
caput  mortuum. 

The  Doctor  charges  us  "  with  spiritual 
pride."  But  is  it  pride  to  confess  ourselves 
ungodly  wretches,  and,  as  such,  to  receive 
free  justification  from  infinitely  rich  grace  ? 
"  With  presumption  and  unwarrantable  per- 
suasions." But  is  that  a  presumptuous 
claim,  or  that  an  unwarrantable  persuasion, 
which  is  founded  on  the  infallible  promise 
of  God,  and  implied  in  the  very  nature  of 
faith  ?  He  bids  us  beware,  lest  we  be  the 
<lii[)es  of  our  own  credulity.  We  thank 
bim  for  the  friendly  admonition  ;  and,  to 
show  our  gratitude,  we  would  suggest  a 
caution  to  our  worthy  friend,  that  before  he 
argues  on  a  religious  subject,  he  would  gain 
clearer  ideas  of  its  nature.  He  talks  of 
reconciliation,  as  implying  concern  and 
grief.  Here  he  fights  with  a  shadow,  and 
a  shadow  of  his  own  raising;  no  mortal 
ever  affirmed  or  dreamed  of  any  such  thing. 
Reconciliation  is  neither  more  or  less  than 
a  removal  of  offence,  and  a  restoration  to 
favour.  He  mentions  Mr.  Marshall's 
three  propositions  as  the  requisite  signals 
of  faith  ;  whereas  they  are  the  constituent 
parts,  the  -very  essence  of  faith  :  they  dif- 
fer as  nnich  from  a  signal,  as  the  tiorid  blood 
and  lively  spirits  ditllr  from  the  bloom  on 
the  cheek,  or  the  sparkle  in  the  eye.  He 
tells  us,  "  That  the  faith  of  the  Jews  was 
one  thing;  but  after  our  Saviour's  death, 
the  faith  of  the  Gentiles  was  another." 
St.  Paul,  who  was  a  Jew  by  birth,  and  an 


the  very  reverse-  There  is  one  faith,  of 
which  Christ,  the  Lamb  slain  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  was  and  is  the  in- 
variable object.  "  To  him  give  all  the 
prophets,"  as  well  as  all  the  apostles,  "  wit- 
ness, that  wliosoever  believeth  in  him  shall 
receive  remission  of  sins."  Believing  in 
Christ,  we  see,  is  the  one,  constant,  unal- 
terable way,  in  which  both  Jews  and  Gen- 
tiles, the  hearers  of  the  prophets  and  the 
converts  of  the  apostles,  obtained  pardon, 
life,  and  glory. 

Had  Dr.  observed  this  caution,  he 

would  not  have  spent  so  many  needless  and 
random  words  on  the  third  proposition,- 
which  proceed  upon  an  absolute  mistake  of 
the  point.  "  We  advocates  for  self  suffici- 
ency in  man !"  I  ^^'onder  how  the  ingeni- 
ous Doctor  can  entertain  such  a  suspicion, 
especially  as  he  knows  wc  have  subscribed, 
we  believe,  and  we  maintain  the  tenth  arti- 
cle of  our  Church.  He  has  blamed  us  for 
this  belief;  therefore  he  .should,  in  all 
reason,  blame  himself  for  those  extravagant 
excursions  of  his  pen  ;  which  are  just  as 
far  from  sobriety  and  fact,  as  the  Anti- 
podes are  from  the  latitude  of  London. 
Our  maxim  and  Mr.  Marshall's  meaning 
is.  Though  less  than  nothing,  though  worse 
than  nothing  in  ourselves,  we  can  do  all 
tilings  tiirougli  Christ's  strengiliening  us. 
I  am,  ^c. 


LETTER  CIV. 

Saturdai;  moniing. 

Shall  I  beg  you  to  tell  Dr.  ,  that 

his  beautiful  Visions*  were,  by  Dodsley 
the  bookseller,  put  into  the  hands  of  a  very 
pious  and  ingenious  friend  of  mine,  who 
proposes  an  alteration  in  the  ninth  line  of 
the  sixtj'-ninth  page  of  the  iifth  edition, 
where  he  would  read  Jesus  instead  of 
virtue. 

At  that  important  hour  of  need, 
Jesus  shall  prove  a  friend  indeed. 

But  I  am  not  of  his  opinion,  unless  an 
uniform  vein  of  evangelical  doctrine  had 
run  through  the  whole.  This,  I  must  con- 
fess, I  could  have  been  glad  to  have  feen 
in  so  elegant  a  poem,  where  Spenser's  fan- 
cy, and  Prior's  ease,  are  united.  And  I 
hojie  if  the  Doctor  should  ever  write  any 
more  poetry,  he  will  take  this  important 
hint  into  his  consideration.  Indeed  he 
ought ;  for  even  in  his  Vision  on  Death, 
he  has  not  paid  the  least  regard  to  Christ 
oiu-  Redeemer,  the  conqueror  of  death. 
I  presume  they  sell  according  to  our  wishes. 
May  they,  under  the  blessing  of  a  most 

♦  Sea  Letter  .XCVII. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 

gracious  God,  impart  good  to  the  world, 
and  bring  gain  to  the  author ! 

If  I  mistake  not,  you  are  a  subscribing 
member  of  the  Society  for  Promoting 
Christian  Knowledge  ;  will  you  be  so  kind 
as  to  procure  for  me  a  dozen  of  Bibles, 
;md  a  dozen  of  the  Bishoj)  of  Man  on  the 
Lord's  Supper?  I  give  away  this  to  com- 
muiiicuiits,  because  it  has  the  communion- 
service  in  it ;  and  because  it  is  more  evan- 
gelical, and  less  exceptionable  than  the 
generality  of  what  are  called  preparations 
for,  or  couij)anions  at  the  sacrament ;  too 
many  of  which  books,  by  long  prayers  for 
each  day  iti  the  week,  and  by  injudicious 
representations,  have  sometimes,  I  fear,  a 
contrary  efl'ect  to  what  was  intended.  I 
had  once  a  design,  nor  have  I  wholly  laid 
it  aside,  of  extracting  from  Jenks'  Office 
of  Devotion,  the  few  leaves  he  has  there 
wi'ote  so  pathetically  on  the  sacrament,  and 
of  printing  them  with  the  communion  ser- 
vice, after  the  manner  of  the  Bishop  of 
Slan  ;  adding  on  the  sides  suitable  observa- 
tions of  my  own,  to  supply  Jenks'  deficien- 
cies. I  propose  likewise  to  add  what  Mar- 
shall says  on  the  subject,  and  insert  fiom 
the  Bishop  of  Alan  his  short,  yet  striking 
meditations  on  some  well-chosen  texts  of 
Scripture,  which  will  be  of  service  to  every 
one  ;  particularly  to  those  who  are  unac- 
customed to  meditate,  or  have  no  taleuts 
for  it,  and  consequently  want  srich  an  as- 
sistance to  employ  the  time  while  others 
are  receiving  the  bread  and  wine.  What 
savs  my  Jidus  Achates  to  this  ?  Give  it  a 
place  ni  your  thoughts ;  and  however  wc 
may  determine  on  this,  let  us  determine  to 
cleave  more  closely  to  the  Lord,  and  wait 
upon  our  God  continually.  "  Unto  ther 
lift  I  up  mine  eyes,  O  thou  that  dwellest 
in  the  heavens."  Let  this  be  our  pattern, 
and  such  our  practice.      To  his  tender  care, 


837 

as  to  direct  me  once  more  to  the  Magazine 
in  which  your  chronological  observation  is 
inserted.  I  shall  be  more  particularly  i)]eased 
to  see  difliculties  of  this  nature  cleared  up; 
because  the  works  of  a  very  celebrated 
genius  are  lately  published,  in  which  he 
very  much  decries  the  chronology  nnd  his- 
tory of  the  sacred  Scriptures  ;  I  mean  some 
posthumous  volumes  written  by  the  late 
Lord  Bolingbroke. 

You  will  excuse  me  for  not  making  my 
thankful  acknowledgments  sooner.  The 
objections  you  started,  and  the  answers  you 
gave,  were  richly  worth  preserving  ;  I  am 
truly  sorry  that  the  afore-mentioned  disaster 
has,  I  fear,  deprived  me  of  them.  Have 
you  no  copy  taken  for  your  own  satisfaction  ? 
With  relation  to  my  intended  work,  if  it 
was  in  your  hands,  1  believe  you  would  not 
think  it  expedient  to  add  any  thing  more  of 
the  argumentative  kind.  I  fear  1  have  been 
too  prolix  already  ;  and  if  ever  I  should  be  so 
happy  as  to  obtain  your  revisal  of  it,  should 
be  very  desirous  that  you  would  make  very 
free  with  the  pruning-knife.  I  have  no 
vindication,  but  some  excuse  for  my  delay 
in  writing.  I  catched  such  a  cold,  on  the 
late  terrifying  occasioii,  (being  obliged  to 
wade  through  water,  in  order  to  escape  the 
fire),  as  confined  me  to  my  chamber  several 
weeks.  I  mentioned  to  you  Taylor's 
Treatise  of  Original  Sin.  As  you  have  noS 
seen  the  work,  give  me  leave  to  transmit, 
as  fully  as  I  can  recollect,  one  or  two  of  his 
objections  to  the  orthodox  opinion.  God  is 
the  Maker,  the  true  and  immediate  Maker 
of  all  men,  Job  xxxi.  1.5.  Now  it  is  impos- 
sible that  God  should  make  ournature,  and 
yet  not  make  the  qualities  and  propensities 
which  it  has  when  made.  Therefore,  what- 
ever principles,  or  whatever  seeds  are  im- 
planted in  OLir  constitution,  they  cannot  be 
princijilrs  of  iniquity  nor  seeds  of  sin  ;  be- 


and  contnnial  guidance,  I  commit  you  ;  and    cause   they  are  all  infused  and  planted  by 


am  coidially  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CV. 

London,  Miles-lane,  April 9,  17.52. 
Dear  Sir, — Soon  after  1  received  your 
fast  favour,  we  were  visited  by  a  \ery  alarm- 
ing providence  :  a  tire  broke  out  in  a  sugar- 
baker's  workhouse,  part  of  which  commun- 
icated with  my  brother's  house,  and  the 
whole  was  separated  from  us  only  by  a 
court-yard,  four  or  five  yards  in  breadth. 
Tliree  engines  played  from  his  house,  and 
another  stood  ready  in  the  dining  room,  ,in 
case  of  any  unexpected  exigency.  We  were 
all  consterruition  and  confusion  ;  in  the 
hurry,  I  mislaid,  somewhere  or  other,  your 
valuable  letter,  and  camiot  recover  it  by 
aiiy  search.     I  winh  you  would  be  so  kind 


our  infinitely  good  and  holy  Creator.  Such 
passions,  appetites,  propensities,  cannot  be 
sinful,  because  they  are  necessary  and  un- 
avoidable, (and  that  cannot  be  sinful  in  me, 
which  I  can  nowise  avoid,  help,  or  hinder), 
neither  can  they  render  us  objects  of  God's 
wrath  ;  for  it  is  infinitely  absurd,  and  highly 
dishonourable  to  God,  to  suj)j)ose  he  is  dis- 
pleased at  us  for  what  lie  himself  has  in- 
fused into  our  nature. 

What  says  St.  James?  (James  iii,  9.) 
"  Therewith  curse  we  men,  who  are  made 
after  the  similitude  of  God."  The  simili- 
tude of  God  signifies  those  moral  endow- 
ments which  distinguish  the  possessor,  both 
from  the  brutes  and  the  devils  ;  and  in  this 
image,  or  vested  with  these  qualifications, 
men  are  made.  What  then  becomes  of  the 
doctrine  of  original  sin  ? 

St.  Paul  speaks  of  people  that  had  their 
understanding  darkened,  that  were  alienated 


838 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


in  their  minds,  were  haters  of  God,  &c.  1 
But  this  is  athrmed  of  the  idolatrous  hea-  ] 
then.  The  very  Gentiles,  according  to  St. 
Paul's  account,  "  Shew  the  work  of  the 
law  written  on  their  hearts,  their  con- 
sciences meanwhile  accusing  or  else  ex- 
cusing one  another."  Here  then  are 
Heathens  who  have  the  work  of  the  law 
(not  barely  discerned  by  their  understand- 
ing, but)  written  on  their  hearts  ;  have  both 
the  knowledge  and  the  love  of  its  moral 
precepts;  with  an  awakened  tender  con- 
science, ever  ready  to  act  the  part  of  an 
impartial  reprover,  or  a  zealous  advocate  ; 
and  what  higher  character  can  you  give  of 
your  first-rate  believer  ?  They  are  also  said 
to  "  do  by  nature  the  things  contained  in  the 
law ;"  an  irrefragable  proof  that  our  nature 
is  not  so  depraved  in  point  of  sinclination, 
nor  so  disabled  with  regard  to  its  executive 
powers,  as  the  doctrine  of  original  sin  sup- 
poses. 

Let  me  request  the  favour  of  your  senti- 
ments upon  the  preceding  objections.  Your 
ingenious  remarks  on  Deut.  xxxiii.  13,  &c. 
I  received  ;  I  prize,  and  I  thank  you  for 
them.  May  the  gracious  God,  for  a  recom- 
pense, lead  you  farther  and  farther  into  the 
unsearchable  treasures  of  wisdom  hid  in  the 
Scriptures,  and  fill  you  with  all  wisdom  and 
spiritual  understanding.  I  comfort  myself 
in  thinking,  that  you  do  not  in  your  prayers 
forget,  dear  sir,  your  much  obliged,  and 
truly  affectionate  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  CVI. 

Weston-Favell,  Dec.  14,  1752. 

Reverend   Sir, — Little   did  I  think, 
when   I  recommended  to  the  public   the 

Observations    on    *,  that    I    should 

be  so  agreeably  and  amply  recompensed  for 
my  occasional  note — recompensed  with  a 
letter  from  the  author;  which,  I  assure 
you,  was  extremely  welcome,  not  only  on 
accoimt  of  the  same  strain  of  elegance  which 
runs  through  and  adorns  your  book,  but  for 
the  tender  which  it  brought  me  of  a  very 
valunbie  accession  to  the  small  number  of 
my  friends.  Your  friendship,  dear  sir,  I 
accept  as  a  privilege,  and  shall  cultivate 
with  delight.  Only  I  must,  in  common 
justice,  forewarn  you  of  one  particular, 
That  your  social  intercourses  with  James 
Hervey,  will  be  an  exercise  of  charity, 
rather  than  an  advantageous  traffic  to  your- 
self. Besides  other  reasons  whicli  I  might 
too  truly  allege  for  the  support  of  this  hint, 
a  long  continued  habit  of  indisposition,  and 


•  Probably  the  Observations  on  Tacitus  com- 
JTended  by  Mv.  Hervey,  in  his  Letter  to  a  Lady  of 
Quality.  ' 


bodily  weakness,  has  laid  a  heavy  hand  on 
my  animal  spirits,  which  (take  iny  word  for 
it,  since  I  hope  you  will  never  know  it  by 
experience,)  both  cramps  the  exertion,  and 
obstructs  the  improvement  of  the  intellect- 
ual faculties.  You  remember,  however, 
who  has  said,  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive  ;"  which,  I  think,  will  hold 
good  when  applied  either  to  the  treasures 
of  the  mind  or  the  riches  of  fortune. 

Your  approbation  of  any  thing  in  my 
slight  remarks  will  give  me  singular  satis- 
faction ;  yet  I  should  be  no  less  obliged  for 
your  free  thoughts  on  what  should  have  been 
added,  expunged,  or  altered.  Let  this, 
dear  sir,  be  the  first  fruits  of  our  friendship- 
Point  out  my  blemishes,  and  supply  my  de- 
fects. Applause  may  be  more  soothing  to 
my  vanity  ;  but  such  kind  corrections  will 
be  more  pleasing  to  my  judgment,  and  more 
serviceable  to  our  common  cause.  It  is 
scarce  probable  that  a  second  edition  should 
be  published,  as  the  first  was  numerous ; 
but  if  there  should  be  such  a  demand,  I 
am  sure  your  animadversions  would  en- 
rich and  ennoble  it. 

I  thank  you  for  yoirr  Reflections  on  the 
Scriptures,  which  are  perfectly  just,  and 
peculiarly  animated.  I  cannot  but  wish 
that  the  vindication  of  their  dignity,  and 
the  display  of  their  excellency,  had  fallen 
to  your  share.  This,  I  trust,  is  a  ser- 
vice reserved  for  your  pen,  to  be  drawn  with 
ten-fold  energy  and  success  on  some  future 
occasion.  And  may  you,  when  called  to 
such  an  important  work,  be  "  a  vessel  unto 
honour,  sanctified,  and  meet  for  the  Master's 
use !" 

I  bless  God  for  the  just  notions  you  form 
concerning  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  neces. 
sity  of  his  enlightening  influences  ;  without 
which  the  Scriptures  will  be  a  sealed  book, 
and  even  the  word  of  life  a  dead  letter. 
Men  of  superior  abilities  too  often  lean  to 
their  own  understanding,  and  reject  the 
guidance,  the  teachings,  of  the  Holy  Ghost'; 
not  because  these  are  not  mentioned,  in- 
sisted upon,  promised  in  the  gospel ;  but 
because  they  fancy  themselves  capable  of 
comprehending,  without  any^  supernatural 
aid,  ra  f/.'-ya.Xiia  th  0!a.  But  may  we,  sir, 
be  sensible,  ever  sensible,  that  all  our  suffi- 
ciency is  of  God  ;  and  not  blush  to  be  the 
humble  pupils  of  the  heavenly  teacher,  who 
"  hideth  these  things  from  the  wise  and 
prudent,  but  revealeth  them  unto  babes." 
I  am  desirous  of  being  tauiiht  by  the  labours 
of  learned  men  ;  more  desirous  of  being 
taught  by  the  written  word  of  revelation ; 
but,  amidst  all,  and  above  all,  to  be  taught 
of  God  ;  or,  as  our  Liturgy  very  boldly, 
but  not  improperly  explains  the  pro])het, 
"  taught  by  the  inspiration  of  God's  Holy 
Spirit." 

I   am    pleased  to   hear  fro;n    ,  that 


A  COLLECTIOiN  OF  I.ETTERS. 


&» 


you  are  situated  near  that  worthy  gentle- 
man Dr.  ,  whose  works  praise  him 

in  the  gate ;  to  whom  belongs  that  noble 
charaeter,  "  The  liberal  person  deviseth  li- 
beral things  ;"  to  whom,  1  trust,  will  be  made 
good  that  inestimalile  promise  in  its  fullest 
extent,  "  Hy  liberal  things  shall  he  stand." 
Tliey  sha!l  he  his  witnesses  at  the  day  of 
eternal  judgment,  that  his  faith  in  Christ 
.li'sns  has  neither  bee^i  empty,  barren,  nor 
(Itaii.  When  you  have  the  pleasure  of 
waiting  on  him,  be  so  good  as  to  present 
him  with  my  most  respectful  compliments. 

You  are  not  under  the  least  obligation  to 
me,  for  bearing  my  testimony  to  your  late 
performance.  It  is  a  debt  which  I  owe, 
for  the  delight  I  received  in  perusing  it. 
I  wish  it  may  soon  come  to  a  second  edi- 
tion ;  and,  if  my  attestation  to  its  merit  is 
a  means  of  introducing  it  into  the  hands  of 
my  readers,  I  do  not  doubt  but  it  will  do  an 
honour  to  my  taste.  The  present  whirh 
you  promise  me  will  be  very  acceptable  ; 
but,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  have  a  family,  or 
your  circumstances  should  not  be  affluent, 
I  beg  you  will  not  think  of  it.  You  see  I 
follow  your  example,  and  speak,  not  as  a 
new  acquaintance,  but  as  a  bosom  friend. 

Should  it  ever  be  in  my  power  to  do  you 
any  service,  I  can  suggest  a  method  where- 
by you  might  repay,  more  than  repay  the 
favour.  That  is,  by  taking  the  trouble  of 
revising  a  little  work  which  I  have  upon  the 
anvil,  iind  b'^stowing  U|iiiii  it  yoiu-  free  re- 
marks. A  tew  rnnchf's  from  your  pen  would, 
if  the  thing  be  not  incorrigibly  bad,  very 
much  improve  it.  Had  I  not  seen  a  display 
of  your  judgment  and  delicacy  in  the  Ob- 
servations, &c.  I  should  not  have  asked 
such  an  instance  of  your  friendship  ;  where- 
ns  now  I  cannot  but  earnestly  desire  it,  shall 
highly  esteeiTi  if,  and  shall  very  thankfully 
acknowk'dge  it. 

"  Not  by  might,  nor  by  strength,  but  by 
my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord."  And  we  may 
truly  say,  not  hy  polished  diction,  or  brilliant 
sentinu'iit;  not  by  the  arts  of  jiersnasion,  or 
the  force  of  reasoning;  but  by  (jod  Al- 
mighty's blessing,  our  attempts  are  preva- 
lent, and  our  books  successful.  This  is  my 
comfort,  and  this  my  confidence: — as  an 
author,  I  would  aim,  singly  aim,  at  the  glory 
of  my  Divine  Master,  and  the  furtherance 
of  his  everlasting  gospel.  Then  I  would 
resign  the  issue  of  my  endeavours  wholly  to 
his  providence  and  grace,  who  can,  out  of 
the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings,  perfect 
his  [Jiaise.  Nevertheless,  I  would  by  no 
means  neglect  the  recornmendations  of  a 
gracefid  composition.  I  would  be  glad  to 
have  the  apples  of  gold,  which  are  the  truths 
of  our  holy  religion,  conveyed  or  set  in  j)ic- 
tures  of  silver.  Foi  this  we  have  the  ge- 
nius of  human  nature,  which,  generally 
speaking,  must  be  pleased,  in  order  to  be 


profited.  For  this  we  have  the  precedent 
of  the  wisest  of  men,  who  "sought  and 
found  out  acceptable  'words,"  even  when 
that  which  was  written  was  the  truth  of 
God.  If  it  is  consistent  with  your  other 
engagements  to  oblige  me  in  this  very  sub- 
stantial manner,   ,  who  undertakes  to 

transmit  this  letter,  has  promised  to  convey 
a  little  parcel  to  your  hands. 

I  wish  you,  sir,  what  the  eloquent  apostle 
styles,  fCol.  ii.  2.)  "  the  riches  of  the  full 
assurance  of  uiulerstanding  ;"  and,  turning 
my  wishes  into  i)iayers,  take  my  leave,  and 
protess  myself,  reverend  sir,  your  truly  af- 
fectionate friend"and  brother,  &c. 


LETTER  CVIL 

My  dear  Friend, — The  apostle  warns 
us  not  to  be  "  carried  about  with  every  wind 
of  doctrine,"     I  think  Marshall  has  answer^ 

ed  great  part  of  Dr.  's  letter  (see  pages 

9f),  97  of  the  8vo   edition).     Pray  desire 

Dr. ,  at  his  leisure,  to  show  wherein 

he  suspects  Marshall  to  be  unscriptural. 
You  may  depend  upon  it,  I  shall  appeal 
from  the  Doctor's  determination,  unless  he 
supports  it  by  Scripture.  The  poor  and 
unlearned  generally  understand  the  gospel 
better  than  the  accomplished  scholars;  be- 
cause it  pleases  God,  by  the  foolishness  (see 
I  Cor.  i.  21.)  of  preaching,  to  save  them 
that  believe.  God  long  ago  foretold,  that 
but  rp\T  woidd  iinderstnnd  and  receive  evan- 
gelical truth :  "  Who  hath  believed  our  re. 
port  ?"  says  Isaiah  :  Very,  very  few.  To 
this  St.  Paul  adds  ;  "  Not  many  wise,  not 
many  mighty  are  called."  The  attribute.1 
of  the  Deity  will  stand  clear  from  all  just 
impeachment,  if  we  demonstrate  that  his 
doctrine  is  most  excellently  calculated  to 
humble  the  sinner,  to  exalt  the  Saviour,  and 
promote  filial  obedience.  Let  the  objections 
and  misapjnehensions  of  such  learned  and 
ingenious  men  teach  us  to  distrust  our  own 
ability ;  not  to  lean  to  om-  own  understand- 
ings, but  seek  more  earnestly  for  the  spirit 
of  wisdom  and  rerelation. 

Dr.  thinks  the  doctrine  delivered 

in  Marshall's  book  to  be  inconsistent  with 
Scripture,  and  repugnant  to  reason  ;  where- 
as 1  think  it  contains  the  very  marrow  of 
Scripture;  consequently,  is  reason  in  its 
highest  refinement.  I  daily  experience  it 
to  be  the  medicine  of  my  better  life,  or  the 
most  sovereign  means  to  comfort  the  con- 
science and  j>urify  the  heart.  If  the  Doctor 
had  leisure,  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  what 
a  person  of  his  fine  sense  and  keen  dis- 
cernment could  say  against  my  favourite 
author. 

Have  you  any  author  'of  eloquence  and 
spirit  who  has  written  either  a  treatise  or 


840 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


sermoti  on  the  subject:  of  true  holiness,  its 
luiture,  its  necessity,  its  excellency  ?  If  you 
could  furnish  me  with  such  a  treatise,  I 
would  endeavour  to  put  his  displays  of  ho- 
liness into  Theron's  mouth,  and  Aspasio 
should  show  the  manner  of  acting,  all  on 
evangelical  principles.  Has  Atterbury  said 
any  thing  of  this  kind,  or  Foster  in  his  ser- 
mons ?  I  wish  you  would  search  your  own 
stock  of  ideas.  Search  your  most  admired 
Arminian  writers,  and  produce  the  noble 
qualities,  the  important  duties,  which  con- 
stitute the  dignity  or  the  happiness  of  our 
nature  ;  and  I  will  undertake,  1  will  attempt 
at  least,  to  point  out  the  expeditious  and 
easy  way  to  them,  all  on  Mr.  Marshall's 
plan. 

The  Doctor  is  strangely  vague  in  his  ar- 
gumentation. On  the  two  first  topics  he 
does  little  else  but  ramble  ;  the  last  he  ab- 
solutely mistakes.  I  do  notafiinn  that  we 
have  sufficient  strength.  I  wonder  how  he 
could  suppose  this,  when  he  knows  it  is  our 
persuasion  that  we  have  not  power  so  much 
as  cordially  to  will  that  which  is  good.  Ikit 
a  persuasion  that  God  will  give  us  sufficient 
strength,  this  is  the  point  we  plead  for,  the 
privilege  to  which  we  stand  entitled  by  the 
gospel. 

You  forgot,  my  dear  fr.end,  to  send  me 
Jennings   on  Original  Sin.       If  you    think 

Mrs. is  in  want,   I  will    very  willingly 

give  her  two  guineas.  Who  would  not  give 
away  their  superfluities  for  his  sake  who 
gave  his  very  life  for  our  sins  ?  O  that  I  had 
also  strength  of  body,  that  I  might  spend 
what  is  more  valuable  than  gold  in  his  sacred 
service  !  But  forbear,  my  soul  :  his  will  be 
done.  I  hope  God  may  incline  your  heart 
to  review  those  maimscrij)ts,  and  strengthen 
your  judgment  to  discern  their  improprieties. 
I  really  have  no  fondness  to  appear  again  in 
print ;  I  had  much  rather  decline  what  re- 
quires any  labour  of  the  brain.  But  since 
I  have  proceeded  so  far  in  the  work,  since 
there  is  some  expectation  of  it,  and  many 
prayers  put  up  for  it,  I  cannot  be  easy  when 
I  offer  to  discontinue  it.  Do,  my  dear 
friend,  give  me  a  little  of  your  time,  take 
some  pains  in  my  behalf;  it  is  the  last 
trouble  of  this  kind  I  shall  ever  give  you. 
For  should  this  piece  be  finished,  never, 
never  will  I  attempt  another.  Who  knows, 
but  if  you  help  me  in  this  work,  I  may 
converse  with  you  when  I  am  dead ;  and 
perhaps  a  very  weak  hint  from  the  pen  of 
an  old  friend  may  be  blessed  to  your  com- 
fort, when  he  is  gone  hence,  and  no  more 
seen  !  Till  then,  after  then,  and  for  ever,  I 
hope  to  be  affectionately  yours,  &c. 

P.  ^'. — Pray  let  me  hear  the  issue  of 
your  interview  with  the  gentleman.  I  hoi)0 
the  God  of  wisdom  and  of  j>ower  will  give 
you  an  irreproachable  conduct,  and  a  decent 


man  that  shall  die,  and  the  son  of  man  that 
shall  be  as  grass  ;  and  forget  the  Lord  ur 
Maker,  who  stretched  out  the  heavens,  and 
laid  the  foundaticn  of  the  earth  ?"  Fear 
not ;  you  have  done  nothing  in  this  whole 
affair  but  what,  I  am  verily  persuaded,  is 
pleasing  to  him  whose  loving-kindness  is 
better  than  life- 

Oh  that  it  was  worth  your  while  to  wish, 
and  that  it  was  safe  for  me  to  grant,  an  ab- 
solution of  my  sentence  against  you  ;  but 
you  must  not  come  to  hear  me  so  long  as 
the  small-pox  is  in  your  town,  as  many  of 
my  people  will  be  terrified  at  your  presence. 
I  will  tell  you  one  good  thing  that  was  in 
our  sermon  last  Sunday :  this  ))ortion  of 
Scripture,  viz.  "  With  the  Lord  there  is 
mercy,  and  with  him  is  plenteous  redemp- 
tion," Psalm  cxxx.  7.  And  this,  all  this  is 
for  you,  my  dear  I'riend,  and  for  thee,  my 
sinful  soul.  O  let  us  receive  the  blessings; 
let  us  embrace  the  blessings  !  For  it  is  our 
gracious  Miister's  will,  by  these  sweet,  in- 
viting, generous  methods,  to  win  us  from  a 
deluding  world,  and  win  us  to  his  blessed 
sell. —  Adieu. 


LETTER  CVIIL 

Dear  Sir, — My  poor  father  is  in  some 
respects  better,  but  he  is  as  weak  and  help- 
less as  ever.  Most  of  his  time  passes  in  a 
kind  of  dosing  sleep.  He  has  no  inclination 
to  talk  ;  takes  little  notice  of  persons  or 
things.  I  hope  his  great  work  is  done,  his 
interest  in  Christ  secured,  and  his  soul  sanc- 
tified by  grace.  For  indeed,  such  a  state 
of  languishing  is  as  unfit  to  work  out  salva- 
tion, and  lay  hold  on  eternal  life,  as  to  grind 
at  the  mill,  or  to  run  a  race.  Oh  that  we 
all  may  give  diligent  attention  to  the  things 
which  belong  to  our  peace,  before  the  inabi- 
lity of  sickness,  and  the  night  of  death  ap- 
proaches. I  sent  for  the  poem  on  Sick- 
ness, by  Mr.  Thomson  of  Queen's  College, 
Oxford,  and  was  surprised  to  find  it  a  ftnir- 
shillingand  sixpenny  piece.  It  is,  I  thiidi,  a 
loose  and  rambling  performaiice  ;  some  good 
lines,  but  a  great  deal  of  it  nothing  at  all  to 
the  jiurpose ;  not  comparable,  in  point  ot 
elegance,  propriety,  and  beauty,  to  his  Hymn 
on  May.  However,  I  would  not  have  it 
depreciated,  methinks,  because  it  speaks 
worthily  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  the 
Rock  of  our  hopes,  Christ  Jesus. — Adieu, 
rnydear  friend,  ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CIX. 

Dj:ar  Sister,-^!  hope  this  will  find  my 


boldness.     Why  sliould  we  be    ••  ufraid  of  father  better.      J  heartily  wish,  and  daily 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


841 


pray  that  the  God  of  evcilasting  compas- 
sions iiKiy  comfort  liiin  iindfr  his  sorrows, 
nuiv  sanctify  his  afllictioiis,  and  restore  him 
to  liis  health,  that  he  may  recover  more 
spiritual  strength  before  he  goes  hence,  and 
is  no  more  seen. 

I  sent  my  brother  some  books,  and  hum- 
bly beseech  the  Giver  of  every  good  gift 
to  accompany  them  with  his  heavenly  bless- 
ing ;   for  what  he  blesses  is  blessed  indee(i. 

I  coidd  be  truly  glad  to  hear  your  com- 
plaints are  removed  ;  but  if  they  continue, 
do  not  be  discouraged.  "  Whom  the  Lord 
lovcth  he  chastiseth."  God  had  but  one 
Son  without  sin,  l)ut  none  without  suffer- 
ings. Oh  that  })is  infinite  goodness  may 
sanctify  your  tribulations,  that  they  may  be 
a  means  of  weaning  you  from  the  world,  and 
bringing  you  to  Jesus  Christ !  Thi'U  you 
will  one  day  say  with  the  Psalmist,  "  It  is 
good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted." — 
I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  ex. 

Drar  Sin, — Yotn-  observations  are  per- 
fectly just,  and  Dr.  Doddridge's  remarks 
are  admirably  judicious  ;  his  alterations  are 
indeed  excellent  and  charming.  Oh,  may 
they  be  equally  impressive  on  me  as  I  tran- 
scribe them,  and  on  all  that  may  hereafter 
read  them  !  jMany  most  solid  and  valuable 
corrections  has  the  Doctor  already  made  in 
my  little  piece,  but,  in  my  opinion,  these 
are  beyond  them  all.  I  cannot  but  wish  he 
had  li.'Tiire  to  have  went  through  the  whole 
with  his  improving  strokes  ;  but,  as  the 
business  of  his  academy  and  ministry  is  so 
various,  and  so  important,  I  cannot  prevail 
with  myself  to  make  such  a  request.  I  will 
try,  and  do  the  best  I  can  to  proceed  on  the 
plan  which  he  has  formed,  and  to  follow 
(inagno  Jicet  intervalloj  tlie  example  he  has 
set.  Be  so  good  as  to  make  my  most 
grateful  acknowledgments  :  Let  your  tongue 
speak,  for  really  my  pen  cannot  write,  how 
greatly  I  am  obliged  to  him.  I  will  venture 
to  turn,  what  was  used  formerly  as  an  im- 
precation, into  a  wish  and  a  blessing  on  this 
occasion,  "  May  God  do  so  to  him,  and 
more  also  !" 

Oh  that  our  writings  may  be  accompanied 
with  the  blessed  Spirit  ;  anrl  that  the  spirit 
of  our  writings   may  be   operative   on  our 

liearts,  and  apparent  in  our  conversation 

Kver  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CXL 

Miles-lane,  Scliinlui/  m'nnuig. 
My  1)E.\r   FniKND, —  If  I  am   tolerably 


well,  I  viill  wait  upon  Dr.  C on  Tues- 
day morning.  He  has  a  delicate  gei;ius, 
and  I  dare  say  he  is  an  excellent  physician. 

0  that  his  fine  parts  may  be  grafted  into 
the  true  olive  tree,  and  bring  forth  fruit 
unto  God.  If  Providence  permits  us  to 
meet,  1  liope  to  have  some  evangelical  dis« 
course  with  him. 

Sure  you  could  not  go  to  London  with- 
out putting  to  your  heart  some  of  your  own 
important  questions,  under  the  heads  of 
self-examination.  Have  you  indulged 
yourself  in  needless  amusements,  needless 
diversions  of  any  kind  ?  Have  you  em- 
ployed your  time  usefully  to  yourself  or  to 
others?  My  dearest  frieiui,  remember  in 
what  book,  by  whose  hands,  several  such 
like  questions  are  written  !  I  fear  you  have 
not  so  much  as  spoke  one  word  for  Christ 
since  you  have  entered  the  metropolis, 
though  you  must  have  had  so  many  oppor- 
timities.  O  why  do  you  thus  biny  your 
sprightly  talents  in  a  naj)kin  ?  Edify  your 
neighbours  by  your  conversation.      What  a 

loss  has  Mr. and  Mr. ,  and  others 

of  your  correspondents,  sustained  by  your 
forgetting  or  disusing  the  language  of  Zion  ? 

1  have  lately  purchased  Lowmaii's  Exposi- 
tion of  the  Revelation.  Give  me  leave  to 
refer  you  to  the  fifth  verse  of  the  second 
chapter,  "Remember  therefore  from  whence 
thou  art  fallen,  and  do  thy  first  works." 
Pray  lend  me  Lowman  on  the  Civil  Go- 
vernment of  the  Hebrews,  which  I  hear  is 
a  most  excellent  book,  and  illustrates  many 
obscme  passages  in  the  Bible. 

Do  you  keep  a  diary  a*  you  used  to  do, 
a  secret  history  of  your  heart  and  conduct, 
and  take  notice  of  the  maimer  in  which 
your  time  is  spent,  and  of  the  strain  which 
runs  through  your  discourse  ?  Do  you 
minute  down  your  sins  of  omissioti  as  well 
as  of  commission,  and  observe  the  frame  of 
your  spirit  in  religious  duties  ?  Do  you 
register  your  most  secret  faults ;  those 
faults  to  which  none  but  your  own  con- 
science is  privy,  none  but  the  all-seeing  eye 
discerns?  And  do  you  often  review  these 
interesting  memoirs  ?  remembering,  at  the 
same  time,  that  for  all  these  things  God 
will  one  day  call  you  into  judgment.  Keep- 
ing a  diary  is  the  way  to  know  omselves, 
and  of  all  other  prejjaratives  it  best  dis])0';es 
us  to  prayer,  and  to  seek  in  earnest  after 
that  blessed  Redeemer  who  died  to  save 
sinners,  and  through  whom  alone  we  can 
ever  expect  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend.  God  in  heaven 
bless  and  protect  you  !  I  hope  to  see  you 
erelong;  and  am,  in  the  mean  time,  with 
true  regard,  yours  faithfully  and  affection- 
ately, &:c. 


84. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


LETTER  CXIL 


Weston,  Feb.  3,  1733. 
Dear  Sib, — I  am  greatly  obliged  for  your 
repeated  favours,  and  truly  sensible  of  my 
obligations.  I  have  not  acknowledged 
them  so  punctually  as  I  ought ;  but  I  hope 
you  will  excuse  this  neglect,  and  ascribe  it 
to  the  real  cause,  ill  health  and  weak  spi- 
rits, which  cramp  my  mind,  unnerve  my 
hand,  and  make  me  trespass  upon  the  can- 
dour of  all  my  correspondents.  Why  did  I 
say  hope  ?  I  see  you  do  excuse  me.  Of  this 
your  last  letter,  transmitted  to  Mr.  Moses 
Browne,  is  a  clear  and  pleasing  proof,  which 
I  safely  received,  and  for  which  I  sincerely 
thank  you  ;  as  I  bless  the  God  of  grace,  and 
the  God  of  wisdom,  for  giving  you  so  friend- 
ly a  temper,  ind  so  discerning  a  judgment. 
The  little  piece*  which  you  have  so  ju- 
diciously retouched  and  improved,  was  not 
written  for  public  view  ;  but  I  thought,  after 
f.equent  prayer  to  God  for  direction,  and 
attending  to  the  workings  of  his  Providence, 
it  was  his  will  that  it  should  be  published. 
I  was  sensible  of  its  many  defects,  but  upon 
his  Almighty  power  I  depend  for  \U  use- 
fulness ;  he  can  bid  even  a  worm  thresh  the 
mountains,  and  make  his  strength  perfect, 
illustrious,  triumphant,  in  the  most  abject 
weakness.  Blessed  be  his  holy  liame,  that 
the  servants  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  advo- 
cates for  his  sacred  cause,  have  such  an 
arm  to  rely  on.  If  another  edition  should 
be  required,  I  will  take  leave  to  enrich  my 
piece  with  your  remarks  ;  and  let  me  beg 
of  you  to  favour  me  with  your  opinion  in 
relation  to  some  additions  which  1  have  oc- 
casionally penned.  Page  111,  after  line  22, 
add, — But  what  shall  we  say  to  a  mistake 
in  the  sacred  chronology ;  a  palpable  mis- 
take pointed  out  by  his  lordshij),  proved  to 
be  t-iich  by  tiie  testimony  of  profane  history 
— Samaria  said  to  be  taken  by  the  king  of 
Assyria,  twelve  years  after  the  Assyrian 
empire  was  no  more  ?  For  my  own  part, 
I  n)ake  neither  hesitation  nor  scruple  to  re- 
ply. If  Isaiah  and  Herodotust  vary;  if 
the  authors  of  the  Kings,  the  Chronicles, 
and  several  of  the  prophets,  differ  from  the 
Gieek  historians,  I  am  under  no  difficulty 
in  settling  my  judgment  and  taking  my  side. 
When  profane  writers  agree  with  the  sa- 
cred, I  admit  both  accounts  ;  when  they 
disagree,  I  reject  the  former,  and  acquiesce 
in  the  latter.  Nor  can  I  tax  myself  with 
any  thing  unreasonable  or  arbitrary  in  this 
proceeding  ;  for  surely  those  writers  who 
are  able  to  foretell  future  events,  must  de- 
serve the  preference  in  relating  past-    Those 


*  This  little  piece  was,  Remarks  ion  Lord  Boling- 
hroke's  Letters  on  the  History  of  the  Old  Testament, 
in  a  Letter  to  a  Lady  of  Quality. 

f  Herodotus  does  not  ditttr  from  the  prophet  Isa- 
iah and  the  Scrlptureaccount  of  ihe  empire  of  Assy- 
ria ;  it  13  L'resias  and  Justin  that  vary  from  it. 


witnesses  who  dwelt  on  the  spot,  and  were 
personally  concerned  in  atfairs,  are  more  to 
be  relied  on  than  those  who  lived  in  a  dis- 
tant country,  and  wrote  in  a  distant  age. 
With  regard  to  the  case  specified  by  my 
Lord  Bolingbroke,  I  believe  the  attentive 
reader  will  find  the  errcr,  not  in  the  sacred 
chronology,  but  in  his  lordship's  apprehen- 
sion. The  kingdom  of  Assyria  was  not  at 
that  period  no  more ;  but,  like  the  Irish  or 
Scotch  crow"n  to  the  English,  imited  to  the 
Babylonian ;  of  which,  when  the  holy 
writers  treat,  they  call  it  sometimes  by  one 
name,  and  sometimes  by  the  other. 

Page  15,  after  established,  insert,  "  If 
Isaiah  speaks  by  divine  inspiration,  when 
he  says  of  the  formidable  Sennacherib, 
The  Lord  of  Hosts  shall  stir  up  a  scourfrc 
for  him,  according  to  the  slaughter  of  Mi- 
diau  ;  surely  that  memorable  defeat,  record- 
ed in  the  book  of  Judges,  must  be  an  un- 
dotibted  fact.  Could  the  Spirit,  which  is 
infallible,  give  such  a  sanction  to  a  story 
which  was  fictitious  ?"  When  the  same 
Isaiah  prays  in  that  elevated  and  ardent 
strain,  •'  Awake,  awake  ;  put  on  strength, 
O  arm  of  the  Lord  !  awake  as  in  the  an- 
cient days,  in  the  generations  of  old  !  Art 
thou  not  it  that  hath  cut  Rahab,  and 
wounded  the  dragon  ?  Art  thou  not  it, 
which  hath  dried  the  sea,  the  waters  of  the 
great  deep  ?  that  hath  m.ade  the  depths  of 
the  sea  a  way  for  the  ransomed  to  pass 
over  ?"  can  we  reasonably  imagine,  that  the 
prophet  would  plead  lying  vanities  before 
the  God  of  truth  ;  that  he  would  ground  his 
own  and  his  countrymen's  faith  on  a  popular 
romance  ;  or  on  what  my  lord  calls,"  a  pure- 
ly human,  and  therefore  fallible,"  narrative  ? 

Does  not  the  blessed  Jesus  describe  the 
manner,  and  illustrate  the  efficacy  of  his 
own  death,  by  the  serpent  lifted  up  in  the 
wilderness,  and  its  all-healing  virtue  on  the 
wounded  Israelites  ?  Does  not  the  holy 
apostle  eimmerate  several  of  the  most  won- 
derful miracles,  wrought  for  the  deliverance, 
the  preservation,  the  chastisement  of  Israel, 
and  from  these  occurrences  deduce  the 
most  important  admonitions,  mge  the  most 
forcible  exhortations  ?  Such  references, 
made  by  such  persons,  not  ordy  suppose, 
but  prove  more  than  bare  illusions ;  they 
are  also  ratifications ;  and  demonstrate  with 
an  evidence,  clear  as  the  wisdom,  firm  as  the 
faithfulness  of  an  incarnate  God,  that  the 
writers  of  these  accounts  have  neither  de- 
ceived us  )ior  were  deceived  themselves. 
Should  it  be  said,  that  these  passages  are 
chiefly  in  the  Mosaical  history,  and  there- 
fore give  no  authority  to  the  other  histori- 
cal memoirs ;  1  would  ask.  Does  not  St. 
Paul  (Rom.  ii.  23,)  quote  a  passage  from 
the  book  of  Kin.gs  ?  Does  he  not  build 
upon  the  passage  as  a  sure  and  indubitable 
truth  ?     Does  he  not  dignify  the  book  with 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


S43 


whjkt  I  may  term  the  iiiconirminicable  char 
actt-r  in  writing;  -and  style  it,  liy  way  of 
SMpwliitive  eminence,  the  Scriptnre?  Is  it 
not  undenliilily  cerrain,  that  tlie  Jewish 
ymittis,  ami  Tiiiiotiiy  among  the  rest,  were 
ins;nii-ted  in  the  historical  as  well  as  the 
pro[)heticai  voluu\es  of  the  Old  Testament  ? 
Does  not  the  best  of  judges  reoonmiend  all 
those  volumes  to  our  highest  estimatioti,  liy 
])ronoiineiiig  them  holy  writings  ?  Does 
he  not  clearly  manifest  their  divine  extract, 
when  he  so  nobly  displays  their  divine  ef- 
fects ;  they  "  are  able  to  make  thee  wise 
lo  salvation,  through  faith  which  is  in 
Jestis  Christ?"  What  then  shall  we  think 
of  Lord  liolingbroke's  declaration,  which 
I  could  not  read  without  grief,  and  cannot 
transcribe  without  horror:  "  The  Bible 
history  ap])ears  to  every  one,  who  reads  it 
without  prepossession,  and  with  attention, 
to  be  nothing  more  than  a  compilation  of 
old  traditions,  and  an  abridgment  of  old 
records."  In  short,  my  lady,  the  doctrinal 
and  historical  i)arts  are  indissolubly,  &c. 

Page  20,  line  18,  after  the  word  "vigi- 
lance ;"  and  instead  of  the  eight  following 
nines,  insert.  The  number  of  whose  verses, 
especially  in  the  Pentateuch,  was  comput- 
ed ;  and  the  arrangement  of  the  very  let- 
ters, for  the  s])ace  of  many  centuries, 
knowti ;  whether,  before  the  coming  of 
Christ,  the  spirit  of  prophecy,  winch  con- 
fessedly existed  in  the  Jewish  Chinch,  was 
not  sufficient  to  prevent,  or  else  sure  to 
detect,  any  corrupt  innovations  ;  \\liether, 
after  the  coming  of  Christ,  the  jealous  eye 
which  the  Jews  and  Christians  hud  on 
each  other,  was  not  an  insurmountable  bar 
against  any  material  alterations. 

Page  21,  line  2,  after  "  composition," 
fidl,  "  Though  we  should  rescue  our  sacred 
books  from  the  imputation  of  spurious  ad- 
ditions, this  will  not,  with  my  lord  at  least, 
eit^her  establish  or  retrieve  their  character." 
They  contain,  he  says,  a  very  imperfect 
account  of  the  Israelites  themselves,  of  their 
settlements  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  of  which, 
by  the  way,  they  never  had  entire,  and 
scarce  ever  peaceable  possession.  The 
sacred  narrative  is  a  summary  account  of 
the  Jewish  affairs ;  but  is  it  therefore  to 
be  censured  as  an  imperfect  account  ?  It  is 
an  ejjitome,  rather  than  a  complete  history  ; 
but  lias  it  not  all  the  (jualities  of  a  perfect 
e])itome?  Those  [(articular  facts  are  se- 
lected which  have  a  more  csi)ecial  reference 
to  the  interests  of  religion  and  the  kingdom 
of  the  Messiah;  in  which  the  Divine  Pro- 
vidence is  most  eminently  conspicuous,  and 
Irom  which  mankind  may  be  most  effec- 
tually edified.  Instead  of  finding  fault  with 
the  writers  for  not  being  coj)ious,  when 
their  professed  aim  was  to  be  concise,  a  true 
critic  woidd  rather  admire  the  felicity  of 
their  narration  ;    which,  though  a  foreign 


history  of  the  remotest  antif]uity,  relating 
to  a  peoi)le  of  the  most  singular  manner.s 
and  peculiar  customs,  exjiressed  in  an  ab- 
solute dead  language,  and  comprised  in  the 
shortest  compass,  is  nevertheless  so  clear, 
so  intelligible,  and  so  very  satisfactory. 

But  they  contain  a  very  imperfect  ac- 
count of  the  Israelitish  settlement  in  Ca- 
naan.. Is  it  possible  for  a  person  who  has 
read  the  I)Ook  of  .loshua  to  advance  such  a 
position  ?  Was  ever  any  thing  of  the  kind 
described  more  minutely  or  with  greater 
accuracy?  Here  we  have  the  general  dis- 
tribution of  the  land,  and  the  extent  of  each 
particular  allotment.  The  borders  of  the 
several  divisions  are  marked  out  as  with  a 
line,  and  the  cities  in  the  several  can- 
tons mentioned  by  name.  In  short,  this 
whole  transaction  is  so  circumstantial- 
ly displayed,  that  some  readers,  agreeing 
with  my  lord  in  their  disaffection  to  the 
Bible,  l)ut  diametrically  opjiosite  in  their 
taste  of  literature,  have  thought  it  particu- 
larized even  to  tediousness.  However, 
this  particularity  of  description  was  highly 
expedient,  not  only  to  supersede  any  such 
objection  as  his  lordshij)  has  raised,  but 
also  to  ascertain,  by  an  unalterable  standard, 
the  boundaries  of  the  tribes ;  to  prevent 
any  encroachments  ujjon  the  inheritance  of 
each  other  ;  and  to  demonstrate  the  won- 
derful agreement  betv\een  the  ancient  pre- 
diction of  Jacob,  the  more  recent  prophecy 
of  Moses,  and  the  situutioii,  the  limits,  the 
produce  of  the  territories  respectively  as- 
signed to  the  patriarchal  families.  Jacob 
foretold,  that  Zebulon  should  dwell  at  the 
haven  of  the  sea,  whose  portion  actually  lay 
on  either  side  of  the  sea  of  (Jalilee,  and  ex- 
tended to  the  Mediterranean.  Moses  fore- 
told, that  the  Lord  should  dwell  between 
Penjamin's  shoulders,  or  the  temple  be 
placed  at  the  extremity  of  his  borders. 
But  I  would  refer  my  reader  to  Gen.  xlix. 
and  Dent,  xxxiii.  in  wdiich  chapters,  com- 
pared with  the  distinguishing  circumstances 
of  the  several  tribes,  he  will  discern  a  mo«t 
surprising  spirit  of  prophecy,  ])lanning  out 
with  precision  what  was  afterwards  detei- 
mint'd  by  lot,  and  foreshowing  with  exact- 
ness what  was  not  come  into  existence. 

The  Israelites,  it  is  add-d,  never  had 
entire,  and  scarce  ever  peaceable  possession 
of  the  land.  This,  my  lord  imagines,  must 
imply  an  inconsistency  between  the  divint 
promise  and  the  issue  of  things  ;  therefore, 
to  animadvert  upon  it,  he  div'i  esses  from  his 
subject.  But  how  will  his  lordship's  ani- 
madversion comport  with  the  testimony  of 
Joshua?  Just  as  well  as  lii:ht  consists 
with  darkness.  The  Loid  gave  unto  Is- 
rael all  the  land  which  he  swa.e  to  give 
unto  their  fathers  ;  and  they  possessed  it, 
and  dwelt  therein.  Ami  the  Lord  gave 
thum  fL'st  roimd  about,  according  lo  ;dl  thaj 


814 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


he  swaie  unto  their  fathers  ;  Joshua  xxi. 
43,  44.  Is  it  not  demonstrable  from 
Joshua's  topographical  draught  of  the 
country,  and  from  the  habitations  allotted 
to  the  several  tribes,  that  they  possessed 
the  bulk  of  the  land  ?  What  little  remained  j 
.n  the  occupation  of  the  Canaanites,  bore  I 
no  more  pro])ortion  to  the  heritage  of  Israel,  I 
than  the  addition  of  a  fiinge,  or  the  insertion 
of  a  loop,  bears  to  the  whole  dimensions  of 
the  garment.  That  they  possessed  all  this, 
and  that  they  possessed  no  more,  were 
circumstances  equally  consonant  to  the 
prophetic  declarations  of  Scripture.  The 
one  a  punctual  execution  of  the  minatory ; 
the  other  an  evident  accomplishment  of  the 
promissory.  He  that  said  to  their  pious 
progenitor,  "  Lift  up  now  thine  eyes,  and 
look  from  the  place  where  thou  art,  north- 
ward, and  southv/ard,  and  eastward,  and 
westward  ;  for  all  the  land  which  thou  seest, 
to  thee  will  I  give  it,  and  to  thy  seed  for 
ever,"  Gen.  xiii.  14,  15 ;  for  ever,  is 
evidently  promised  on  condition  of  their 
obedience  ;  whereas,  in  case  of  disobedience, 
the  very  reverse  is  threatened,  Deut.  iv. 
25,  26. ;  the  same  said  unto  their  degenerate 
offspring,  "  Else  if  you  do  in  any  wise  go 
back,  and  cleave  unto  the  remnant  of  these 
nations,  even  these  that  remain  among  you  ; 
know  for  a  certainty,  that  the  Lord  your 
God  will  no  more  drive  out  any  of  these 
rations  from  before  you,"  Joshua  xxiii.  12, 
1 3.  My  lord  must  forget  tliis  last  particular, 
or  neglect  to  compare  it  with  the  preced- 
ing ;  otherwise  he  would  have  seen,  in  these 
prophecies  and  their  corresponding  events, 
a  signal  manifestation  of  God  Almighty's 
goodness,  justice,  and  faithfulness  ;  good- 
ness, in  giving  what  he  gave  ;  justice,  in 
withholding  what* he  withheld;  and  faith- 
fulness in  both  dispensations. 

As  for  peaceable  possession,  we  have 
already  heard  the  witness  of  .Joshua ;  a 
very  sufficient  witness,  one  would  presume, 
as  he  was  generalissimo  of  the  Jewish 
forces,  and  superintendant-general  of  the 
affair.  However,  let  us  search  the  records 
of  the  nation  :  here  we  meet  with  long 
periods  of  peace,  under  the  government  of 
their  first  illustrious  commander,  and  under 
the  subsequent  administration  of  their 
judges  ;  "  The  land  had  rest  from  war," 
Joshua  xiv.  15.  "  The  land  had  rest 
forty  years,"  Judges  iii.  11.  "  The  land  had 
rest  eighty  years,"  Judges  iii.  30.  We  find 
the  same  face  of  public  repose  in  the  reigns 
ot  David  and  Solomon,  Asa  and  Jehosophat; 
and  not  of  one  only,  but  of  every  righteous 
smd  religious  king ;  or,  if  peace  departed 
tor  a  season,  victory  supplied  its  place,  and 
success  crowned  their  arms.  The  blessin.g 
of  national  tranquillity  was  never  promised 
to  the  Israelites  al)soliitely,  but  upon  con- 
ditian  cJ  fidelity  to  their'  Almighty  Sove- 


reign. Whenever  they  were  entitled  to  it, 
by  virtue  of  this  promise,  and  their  corres- 
ponding obedience,  they  never  failed  to 
enjoy  it.  Whenever  they  forfeited  their 
title,  either  by  revolting  to  idolatry,  or  con- 
fiding in  idolaters,  they  were  constantly 
pimished  with  intestine  commotions  or 
foreigii  invasion.  What  shall  we  infer 
from  hence  ?  a  conclusion  any  way  prejudi- 
cial to  the  sacred  annals  ?  No;  but  greatly 
to  their  glory.  From  hence  it  appears, 
that  they  are  indeed  the  annals  of  heaven : 
A  register,  not  merely  of  political  conduct, 
but  of  divine  dispensations  :  The  awful 
and  important  memoirs  of  a  real  Theocracy, 
in  which,  according  to  the  emphatical  lan- 
guage of  Isaiah,  "  the  Lord  was  their  Judge, 
the  Lord  was  their  Lawgiver,  the  Lord 
was  their  King." 

But  these  facts,  my  lord  complains,  are 
related  in  a  confused  manner.  To  which 
I  can  answer,  We  have  each  reign  in  the 
proper  order  of  time.  The  parentage  of 
the  sovereign  is  specified,  and  his  general 
character  given.  We  are  informed  at  what 
age  he  ascended  the  throne,  and  how  long 
he  swayed  the  sceptre  ;  who  were  the 
eminent  persons,  and  what  the  remarkable 
incidents,  which  distinguished  his  govern- 
ment ;  how  he  died,  and  where  he  was 
buried.  Is  this  confusion  ?  where  then 
shall  we  look  for  regular  arrangement  ? 
Perhaps  his  lordship  means  the  interchange- 
able narration  of  occurrences  in  the  kingdom 
of  Judah  and  the  kingdom  of  Israel.  This, 
I  own,  is  observed  in  the  latter  parts  of 
the  sacred  history.  But  this  can  no  more 
be  called' confusion,  than  the  disposition  or 
varying  colours  in  some  beautiful  piece  of 
mosaic  can  be  called  irregularity.  It  is 
rather  a  fine  contrast,  or  that  pleasing  di- 
versification in  the  series  of  historical  writ- 
ing, which  my  lord's  poetical  friend  so  justly 
admires  in  the  decorations  of  a  rural  seat : — 

Here  order  in  variety  you  see. 

Where  all  things  difier,  and  yet  all  agree. — Pope. 

Page  61,  to  line  19,  suppose  I  subjoin 
the  following  note  ;  "  Joshua  and  Samuel 
wrought  miracles  :  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah 
foretold  future  events.  Though  it  is  not 
absolutely  certain  that  all  the  sacred  histo- 
rians were  prophets,  yet  it  is  highly  pro- 
bable, from  1  Chron.  xxix.  29.  This, 
however,  is  unquestionable,  that  their  writ- 
ings were  reviewed  and  approved  by  men 
of  prophetical  gifts;  and  the  approbation 
of  such  judges  must  give  a  sanction,  little 
inferior  to  the  authority  which  their  own 
compositions  would  claim." 

Page  71,  at  the  top  of  the  page,  add,  My 
lord  tells  us,  "  That  the  Scripture  history 
contains  an  account  of  the  divisions  and 
aj)ostasies,  the  repentances  and  relapses, 
triumphs  and  defeats  of  the  Israelites,  ini- 
der    the    occasional   government   of   tUtir 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


815 


judges,  and  under  that  of  their  king:s,  and 
of  the  G;ilih>an  and  Samaritan  captivity." 
Whether  this  is  mentioned  by  way  of  dero- 
gation, k't  the  judicious  reader  determine. 
I  would  bcf^  leave  to  observe,  that  these 
occurrences,  related  in  the  scrijjtural  man- 
ner, with  a  continual  regard  to  the  superin- 
tending hand  of  Providence,  are  some  of 
the  most  weighty  and  interesting  materials 
that  can  enrich  the  historical  page.  None 
so  well  calculated  to  teach  nations,  to  ad- 
monish kings,  and  improve  posterity.  His 
lordship  might  have  said,  with  the  utmost 
veracity ;  and,  I  think,  in  common  justice 
he  ought  to  have  said,  Tht-y  contained  also 
the  most  unparalleled  instances  of  national 
success  and  personal  achievements  ;  the 
most  beautiful  and  iiffecting  pictures  of 
virtue,  deluieated  through  all  its  branches, 
in  a  multiplicity  of  living  characters  ;  than 
which  nothing  can  be  better  accommodated 
to  excite  the  attention,  and  charm  the  ima- 
gination ;  to  touch  the  heart,  and  impress 
the  passions  ;  to  indarne  them  with  the  love, 
and  mould  them  into  the  image  of  universal 
holiness. 

Here  we  behold  a  people  always  desti- 
tute of  cavalry,  the  main  strength  of  tlie 
battle  ;  yet  always  a  match,  and  more  than 
a  matcli,  for  their  most  powerful  adversa- 
ries, so  long  as  they  maintained  a  dutiful 
reliance  on  their  God  :  A  people,  who  left 
their  frontiers  naked  and  defenceless  at 
three  stated  solemiiities  in  evei-y  year  ;  yet 
never  were  invaded  at  this  critical  juncture 
by  their  most  vigilant  enemies,  so  long  as 
they  persisted  in  obedience  to  their  almighty 
Protector  :  A  jieopie,  whose  very  land,  as 
well  as  its  iidiabitants,  was  wonderful — 
both  the  scene  and  the  suliject  of  miracles  ; 
for,  after  live  years  uniiitei-niitted  tillage, 
(which  one  would  imagine  should  have  ex- 
hausted its  proline  powers),  it  yielded  con- 
stantly a  double  increase,  in  order  to  supply 
the  demands  of  the  succeetHng  year  ;  when, 
by  the  Divine  apjiointment,  all  was  to  lie 
fallow  and  uncultivated.  Here  we  behold 
men  of  such  singular  and  exalted  piety,  that 
they  walked  with  God,  and  were  trans- 
lated into  tiie  realms  of  glory  without  jjass- 
ing  tlu-ough  the  gates  of  death  :  IVleii  of 
such  undaunted  courage,  that  they  have  re- 
buked princes,  confronted  angry  monarchs, 
and  smiled  at  the  severest  menaces  of  a 
tyrant,  wliose  bare  frown  has  made  the 
world  to  tremble  :  Men  of  such  heroic  abi- 
lities, that  one  of  them  has  slain  hundreds  ; 
another  of  them  h.ts  ])ut  his  thousands  to 
flight  ;-aiul  both  by  the  most  contemptible 
wea])ons  ;  a  third,  without  any  weapon,  has 
given  chase  to  the  roaring  lion,  and  the 
raging  bear ;  and  rent  them  to  pieces,  or 
smitten  them  to  the  earth  :  Men,  that  have 
.been  empowered  to  shut  or  open  the  sluices 
of  the  sky  ;  have  commanded  the  ground  to 


expand  her  horrid  jaws,  and  swallow  up 
the  living  ;  or  bid  the  grave  unlock  her  ada- 
mantine doors,  and  restore  the  dead  :  i\Ien, 
who  have  walked  amidst  the  burning  fiery 
furnace,  as  composed  in  their  spirits,  and  as 
secure  in  their  persons,  as  if  they  had  been 
taking  tlie  air  in  some  calm,  sequestered, 
shady  bower.  In  a  word,  here  is  a  detail 
of  such  marvellous  things,  as  no  eye  hath 
seen  performed  in  any  other  nation  under 
heaven  ;  no  ear  has  heard  related  by  any 
other  annalist  or  biographer  whatever  ;  and, 
though  they  are  the  very  sanctity  of  truth, 
yet  such  as  never  entered  into  the  imagina- 
tion, even  of  romance  itself,  to  conceive. 
"  Ask  now  of  the  days  that  are  past,  which 
were  before  thee,  since  the  day  that  God 
created  man  upon  the  earth  ;  and  ask  from 
one  side  of  heaven  unto  the  other,  whether 
there  hath  been  any  such  thing  as  these 
great  things  are,  or  hath  been  heard  like 
them,"  Deut.  iv.  32.  This,  though  spoken 
of  the  miracles  wrought  in  Egypt,  and  the 
wonders  manifested  in  the  wilderness,  is 
applicable  to  almost  the  whole  tenor  of  the 
scrijjtural  history.      My  remarks,  &c. 

Your  opinion  with  relation  to  the  pre- 
ceding paragraphs  will  be  received  as  a  fa- 
vour, and  attended,  T  hope,  with  a  blessing. 
I  find  I  am  blamed  for  animadverting  oa 
his  lordship's  style,  (page  36.)  for  not  giv- 
ing his  lordsliip  the  title  of  Noble,  not 
treating  him  with  a  respect  due  to  his  dig- 
nity. I  have  tre.'-passed,  it  is  farther  alleg- 
ed, against  the  rub  s  of  candour  and  bene- 
volence, page  33, 31,  and  page  88.  I  know 
you  have  a  large  share  of  patience  ;  may 
the  Lord  .lesus  (of  whose  fidness  his  saints 
receive  even  gra^  e  for  grace)  multiply  upon 
you,  both  this,  and  every  other  fruit  of  the 
Spirit !  Pray,  what  do  you  apprehend  to 
be  the  precise  meaning  of  St.  Paul's  ex- 
pression, Rom.  i.  17.  "  PVom  faith  to 
faith,"  as  it  is  translated  ? 

I  should  be  much  obliged  if  you  would 
let  me  know,  what  are  some  of  the  most 
valuable  books  which  you  have  met  with 
on  various  subjects  of  importance  ?  what 
little  treatise  is  most  proper  to  put  into  the 
hands  of  illiterate  people  ?  what  are  some  of 
the  most  judi'jious  and  improving  composi- 
tions in  biography?  what  the  most  sound 
and  weighty  authors,  that  might  be  recom- 
mended to  a  yoiuig  student  in  divinity? 
You  see  I  am  always  in  the  begging  strain  ; 
the  language  of  my  letters  is  like  the  horse- 
leech's two  daughters.  Give  !  give  !  All  I 
can  do  by  way  of  return  is,  to  beseech  the 
King  immortal,  invi.-ible,  the  only  wise 
God,  to  give  you  all  spiritual  blessmgs  in 
heavenly  things.  To  do  this,  with  all  the 
ability  which  God  shall  bestow,  will  be  as 
truly  pleasing  to.  as  it  is  justly  due  from, 
dear  sir,  your  uuich  obliged,  and  very  affec- 
tionate friend 


R4f. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


LETTER  CXIII. 

"  Weston-FaveUr  Mmj  19,  1753. 

Dear  Sir, — J  ]iave  lately  been  somewhat 
busied  in  preparnip:  a  sermon  to  be  preach- 
ed before  the  clergy,  at  our  archdeacon's 
visitation ;  and  to  my  weak  nerves  and 
languid  spirits  a  little  business  is  a  toil. 
A  commentator,  with  whom  I  wish  you 
may  long  be  unacquainted,  has  taught  me 
the  meaning  of  Solomon's  description, 
"  The  grasshopper  shall  be  a  burden." 

This,  I  hope,  will  apologize  for  my  delay 
in  answering  more  fully  your  last  very  ob- 
liging favour.  More  iully,  I  say,  because, 
in  a  former  letter,  I  acknowledged  the  re- 
ceipt of  a  parcel  with  your  remarks.  Let 
me  once  more,  dear  sir,  retuin  my  sincerest 
thanks  for  those  judicious  and  delicate  ob- 
servations. They  are  so  valuable,  that  I 
cannot  but  be  very  desirous  to  have  the 
other  parts  of  my  proposed  work  undergo 
the  same  scrutiny,  and  receive  a  polish  from 
the  same  hand.  If  this  kind  office  will  not 
too  much  interrupt  your  own  studies,  give 
me  a  permission  to  send  another  packet ; 
and  withal  a  direction,  how  I  shall  transmit 
it  to  you  most  expeditiously. 

You  will  easily  perceive,  from  several 
bints,  perhaps  from  the  whole  tenor  of  my 
writings,  that  your  new  friend  is  what  peo- 
ple would  call  a  moderate  Calvinist.  Your 
sentiments,  in  some  particulars,  may  differ 
from  mine.  Freely  object  wherever  this 
is  the  case  :  I  assure  you  I  can  bear,  I  shall 
delight,  to  have  my  notions  sifted  ;  nor  am 
I  so  attached  to  any  favourite  scheme  but 
I  can  readily  relinquish  it,  when  Scripture 
and  reason  convince  me  it  is  wrong.  When 
I  see  wise  and  learned  men  forming  opinions 
different  from  mine,  I  hope  it  will  make  me 
diffident  of  my  own  judgment ;  teach  me 
"  not  to  lean  to  my  own  understanding ;" 
and  promj)t  me  to  apply  more  earnestly  for 
that  blessed  Spirit,  whose  office  it  is  "  to 
lead  into  all  truth." 

I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  that  the  work  you 
have  in  hand  is  going  on  with  expedition. 
What  a  privilege  will  it  be,  and  what  a 
distinguishing  favour,  if  the  great  eternal 
God  vouchsafes  to  make  use  of  our  pens 
to  bring  any  giory  to  his  name,  or  impart 
any  spiritual  go< id  to  his  people!  To  no 
occasion  is  the  wise  man's  exhortation  more 
applicable:  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  tindeth 
to  do,  do  it  with  all  thy  might;  for  there  is 
no  work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor 
wisdom,  in  the  grave,  whither  thou  goest." 
I  have  a  treatise  entitled,  Dr.  Hildrop's 
Husbandman's  Spiritual  Companion ;  but 
never  read  a  page  in  it,  nor  ever  heard  a 
character  of  it.  I  have  a  discourse  upon 
the  bame  subject  auiongst  the  writings  of 


Mr  Flavel :  it  is  along  time  since  I  saMi: 
it,  and  then  J  only  dipped  into  it,  so  'that  I 
cannot  pretend  to  give  a  character  of  it  j 
only  I  think,  in  general,  that  Flavel'abounds 
with  fine  sentiments,  exalted  piety  ;  and  his 
language,  for  the  most  part,  is  expressive 
and  beautiful. 

Possibly  you  will  wonder  that  I  should 
have  had  the  treatise  you  inquire  after  so 
long,  and  not  have  perused  a  single  page  of 
the  book  ;  and  you  justly  might,  in  case   I 
had  bought  it :   but  it  came  to  me  by  inher- 
itance.      ]\Iy    study    is    composed    of    the 
books  that  were  collected  by  my 
grandfather ;  among  which 
tudes  that  I  shall  continue 
long  as    I  live,  though  they  at  my 

right  hand  and  my  left  every  day.  I  want 
to  be  better  acquainted  with  God's  holy 
M'ord  ;  to  have  its  inestimable  truths  lodged 
in  my  memory,  its  heavenly  doctrines  im- 
pressed upon  my  heart ;  that  my  tempers 
may  take  their  fashion  from  it,  that  my 
private  conversation  may  be  seasoned  with 
it,  and  my  public  ministrations  enriched  by 
it.  Thus,  dear  sir,  may  the  word  of  Christ 
dwell  in  us  richly  ! 

Will  you  give  me  leave  to  lay  before  you 
a  plan  of  the  work?  (part  of  which  has  al- 
ready received,  and  the  remainder  humbly 
requests  your  imjjroving  touches)  :  viz.  Sin- 
cere obedience  not  sufficient  for  our  justifi- 
cation. The  design  of  God's  law,  to  con- 
vince of  sin,  and  bring  to  Christ.  Some 
farther  objections  urged  and  ansv.Tred:* 
the  whole  summed  up.  Our  friends  part, 
but  agree  to  correspond.  Theron,  more 
attentively  observing  his  heart  and  life,  is 
convinced  of  his  guilty  state  ;  and  begins  to 
see  the  necessity  of  a  better  righteousness 
than  his  own  ;  deskes  to  see  what  can  be 
alleged  in  support  of  the  imputation  of 
Christ's  righteousness.  This  occasions 
some  letters  from  Aspasio,  wherein  the 
point  is  proved  from  the  Articles  and  Ho- 
milies of  our  Church  ;  from  the  writings  of 
our  most  eminent  divines;  from  the  Old 
and  New  Testament.  The  excellency  of 
this  righteousness  displayed,  both  from  its 
matchless  perfection  and  the  dignity  of  the 
Author.  A  letter  or  two  from  Theron,  by 
wayof  carrying  on  the  epistolary  intercourse, 
relating  to  the  wonders  of  creation,  as  they 
appear  both  in  the  sea  and  on  the  land ; 
chiefly  calculated  to  manifest  the  goodness 
of  the  Creator,  not  without  a  view  to  the 
main  sul)ject.  The  influence  of  this  riglit- 
eousness  on  moral  virtue  and  evangelical 
holiness.  Our  friends  brought  together 
again.  Theron  under  discouraging  appre- 
hensions. The  freeness  of  grace,  and  of 
the  gift  of  righteousness.  Discourse  on 
faith,  by  which  we  are  united  to  Christ,  and 


*  See  page  847. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


ft47 


biterested  in  his  righteousness.  Tlie  nohle, 
beneficial,  and  delightful  use  to  be  made  of 
this  doctrine.  Theron  relapses  into  sins  of 
infinnity  ;  his  faith  shaken  ;  supports  pro- 
per for  such  a  state.  Sanetitication  ;  its 
nature,  its  principles,  its  progress.  Aspa- 
sio  seized  with  a  sudden  and  fatal  illness  ; 
his  sentiments  and  behaviour  in  his  last 
moments.  These,  dear  sir,  are  the  stamina 
of  my  intended  piece.  Oh  that  he,  who 
educes  so  many  millions  of  elegant  leaves, 
lovely  flowers,  and  graceful  plants,  from  the 
seeds  of  s])nng,  may  enable  this  enfeel)led 
hand  to  dilate,  fill  up,  and  finish  ilie  whole  ! 
As  soon  as  I  conclude  this  epistle,  I  write 
to  a  very  ingenious  friend  of  yours  ;  with 
whom,  several  years  ago,  I  had  begun  to 
form  an  acquaintance  ;  but  my  departure 
from  Oxford,  and  other  accidents,  interrupt- 
ed the  intercourse  for  several  years  ;  and  I 
was  informed,  to  my  unfeigned  sorrow,  that 

Mr.  was   dead.      But  a  letter  lately 

received  from  him  most  agreeably  undeceiv- 
ed me,  and  brought  a  very  welcome  over- 
ture for  a  renewal  of  our  correspondence. 
God  Almighty  grant,  that  all  our  social 
communication  may  be  a  happy  means,  not 
only  of  cherishing  our  affection,  and  refining 
our  taste,  but  also  of  quickening  our  love  to 
the  blessed  Jesus,  and  anunating  our  zeal 
for  his  sacred  interests  ;  or,  as  the  apostle 
expresses  my  wish,  with  an  energy  which  no 
language  but  his  own  can  reach,  that  they 
may  be  subservient  and  effectual  u;  tcc^o'^- 

Vj/Li',v  ayocrrii  x«(  kccXuv  spyuv. 

One  or  two  articles  I  forgot,  in  exhibit- 
ing to  you  my  plan.  But  tliis*  will  direct 
where  they  are  to  be  introduced.  "  The 
corruption  of  our  nature  demonstrated,  first 
from  Scripture,  then  from  exj)erience.  Be- 
tween which,  to  relieve  or  entertain  the 
reader,  is  inserted  a  dialogue  on  the  admir- 
able formation  and  economy  of  the  huinan 
body."  The  nsitation  sermon  I  mentioned 
in  the  beginning,  though  perfectly  plain  and 
artless,  is  in  the  press.  It  will  wait  upon 
you  in  the  next  parcel,  as  soon  as  I  have  the 
favour  of  your  answer.  It  is  ])rinted  for 
the  relief  of  a  jjoor  afflicted  child,  as  a  short 
advertisement  will  inform  the  world.  The 
person  to  whose  management  it  is  consign- 
ed, informs  me,  that  he  has  given  orders  for 
an  impression  of  two  thousand,  besides  a 
hundred  aiid  fifty  which  I  have  bespoke  for 
myself.  Would  this  circumstance  recom- 
nu'ud  it  to  your  beneficent  and  worthy  friend 
I'r.  ?  I  may  now  no  longer  look  up- 
on it  as  a  discourse  delivered  by  me,  but  as 
an  agent  for  the  miserable,  and  an  advocate 
for  the  distressed.  I  should  therefore  be 
\  ery  glad,  and  much  obliged,  if  he  would 
(in  case  he  approves  the  ])■  if'ormance)  pm- 
ciiase  some  of  them  in  order  to  give  away. 


Of  this  he  may  be  assured,  that  by  every 
one  of  which  he  shall  so  dispose,  he  will  do 
a  real  act  of  charity  to  a  diseased  and  crip- 
pled youth  ;  and  I  shall  not  cease  to  pray, 
that  the  God  of  infinite  goodness  mav  ac- 
company the  piece*  with  his  divine  blessing, 
and  make  the  gift  an  act  of  spiritual  charity 
to  the  reader's  soul.  Be  pleased  to  present 
my  most  respectful  compliments  to  the 
Doctor ;  and  give  me  leave  to  expect,  not  a 
line,  but  a  sheet  filled  with  your  thoughts. 
Then  I  shall  promise  myself  one  tiling 
more,  that  you  will,  in  the  speed  of  your 
favour,  as  well  as  in  the  worth  of  its  con- 
tents, exceed,  greatly  exceed,  dear  sir,  your 
truly  affectionate,  and  very  much  obliged 
friend,  &c. 


LETTER  CXIV. 

Weston-Favell,  Aug.  18,  17o3. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  now  procured  some 
franks  ;  and  lest  the  want  of  this  vehicle 
should  retard  the  delight  and  imjirovement 
which  I  always  receive  from  your  corres- 
pondence, I  take  leave  to  enclose  one.  It 
is  for  your  use,  but  my  benefit. 

I  received  the  parcel,  and  owe  you  my 
thanks  for  the  present.     I  wonder  that  you 

should  be  backward  to  gratify  Mr.  . 

Certainly  you  have  truth  on  your  side.  The 
arguments  are  nervous  and  conclusive,  clear- 
ly and  (for  the  most  part)  concisely  stated, 
urged  with  propriety  and  a  becoming 
warmth  ;  yet  without  any  of  that  "  wrath  of 
man  which  worketh  not  the  righteousness 
of  God,"  but  rather  (for  I  aj)preliend  there 
is  a  fiiiuffi;  in  the  expression)  obstructs  its 
advance,  both  in  ourselves  and  others.  If 
I  was  in  your  case,  I  would  let  my  arrow 
fly  as  far  as  Providence  is  pleased  to  carry 
it ;  and  I  beseech  the  blessed  God  to  i)ros- 
per  it,  that  it  may  give  a  mortal  blow  to 
error,  and  co-opeiate  with  his  own  holy 
word  in  being  profitable  sr^o;  iXiyxiv.   Now 

I  mention  Mr. ,  i)ray  let  me  desire  you 

to  ask,  when  you  write  to  him  again,  whether 
he  received,  some  months  ago,  a  letter  from 
me.  If  it  miscarried,  I  shall  with  pleasure 
supply  its  place  with  another  ;  for  though 
I  have  now  but  very  few  correspondents, 
and  my  enfeebled  constitution  will  allow 
me  to  write  but  few  letters,  I  shall  strive 
hard  to  keep  up  an  intercourse  with  those 
gentlemen  fioni  whom  I  expect  to  have  my 
taste  refined,  or  my  mind  improved.      And 

among  that  number  I  reckon  i\Ir. . 

I  shall  sincerely  rejoice  to  hear  tliat  your 
eye  is  strengthened,  and  your  health  con- 
firmed.    How  valuable  are  these  blessings  • 


«  Sec  p-ige  84C. 


,     »  His  sermon,  entitled  "  The  Cross  of  Clirist  the 
,  Christian  i  Glory." 


S48 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


especially  to  those  who  employ  them  for 
the  honour,  and  devote  them  to  the  service 
of  Christ.  I  wish  you  had  taken  minutes 
of  what  you  savv'  most  remarkable  in  your 
tour  through  Westmoreland  and  Cumber- 
land. A  description  of  those  counties 
would  be  very  acceptable  to  us,  who  inha- 
bit a  more  regular  and  better  cultivated 
spot.  Described  in  your  language,  and  em- 
bellished with  your  imagination,  such  an 
account  might  be  highly  pleasing  to  all ;  and 
grafted  with  religious  improvements,  might 
De  equally  edifying.  Such  kind  of  writings 
iuit  the  present  taste-  We  do  not  love  close 
tbiiikiug.  That  is  most  likely  to  win  our 
approbation  which  extenuates  the  fancy, 
without  fatiguing  the  attention.  Since  this 
is  the  disposition  of  the  age,  let  us  endea- 
vour to  catch  men  by  guile,  turn  even  a 
foible  to  their  advantage,  and  bait  the  gos- 
pel hook  agreeably  to  the  prevailing  taste. 
In  this  sense,  "  become  all  things  to  all 
men." 

Permit  me  to  ask,  Whether  you  have  yet 
seen  Witsins  de  CEconomia  Firderum  ?  I 
wsh,  for  my  own  sake,  that  you  was  some- 
what acquainted  with  this  author ;  because, 
if  you  should  be  inclined  to  know  the  reason 
and  foundation  of  my  sentiments  on  any 
particular  point,  AVitsius  might  be  my 
spokesman  ;  he  would  declare  my  mind 
better  than  I  could  myself. 

Conversing  some  time  ago  with  a  very  in- 
genious gentleman,  he  made  an  observation 
which  I  think  is  new  and  curious  ;  I  should 
be  glad  of  your  opinion,  whether  you  think 
it  rational  and  solid.      It  was  upon  these 

words,      BlfrTKT/^lilv    riia-^ns,    l-zih^io;     Tt^il- 

(ay,  Heb.  vi.  2.  This  passage  is  generally 
supposed,  especially  by  the  writers  of  the 
established  church,  to  denote  the  sacrament 
of  baptism,  and  the  rite  of  confirmation. 
With  regaid  to  the  latter,  my  friend  que- 
ried, Whether  the  practice  of  confirmation 
can  be  allowed  to  constitute  one  of  the  fun- 
damentals (hfitXict)  of  Christianity  ?  With 
regard  to  the  former,  can  it  be  shewn,  that 
the  apostle,  in  any  other  place,  ealls  the  or- 
dinance of  baptism  QaTTifffidi,  in  the  plural 
number?  May  not  then  the  clause  more 
properly  refer  to  two  eminent  Jewish 
usages  ;  the  various  purifications  made  by 
washings,  and  the  imposition  of  hands  on 
the  peculiar  victims  ?  The  one  of  which 
represented  a  purity  of  heart  and  life  ;  the 
other  was  expressive  of  a  translation  of  pu- 
nishment from  the  offerer  to  his  sacrifice. 
Then  we  have  signified,  in  language  fami- 
liar t«  the  Hebrews,  and  by  images  with 
which  they  were  perfectly  acquainted,  the 
sanctification  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  substi- 
tution of  Christ  in  our  stead.  What  seems 
to  corroborate  this  conjecture  is,  the  vast 
importance  of  these  two  articles.  They 
aie  the  two  grand   distinguishing  peculiari- 


ties of  the  Christian  scheme  :  without 
them,  every  treatise  upon  fundamentals 
must  be  extremely  defective. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  j'our  remark  on 

a  certain  learned .     The  heart  surely 

should  be  engaged  in  the  preacher's  ofhce, 
as  well  as  the  head. 

Are  passions  then  the  Parjans  of  the  soul  ? 
Reason  alone  ba))tized,  alone  ordain'd. 
To  touch  things  sacred  ? 

The  great  apostle  was  fervent  in  spirit,  as 
well  as  cogent  in  arguing.  He  beseeches, 
conjures,  and  charges  his  people.  He  adds 
prayers  to  his  entreaties,  and  tears  to  his 
prayers.  When  he  reasons,  conviction 
shines ;  when  he  exhorts,  pathos  glows. 
May  your  discourses,  dear  sir,  be  strong 
with  the  one,  warm  with  the  other,  and  by 
both  be  happily  instrumental  "  to  turn  sin- 
ners from  darkness  unto  light,  and  from  the 
power  of  Satan  unto  God,  that  they  may 
receive  forgiveness  of  sins,"  Acts  xxvi.  18. 
We  have  very  wet  unkindly  weather  for  the 
harvest.  May  it  teach  us  all  to  see  our  de- 
pendence on  that  Divine  hand,  which  giveth 
rain  from  heaven  and  fruitful  seasons.  May 
it  stir  us  up  to  long  more  ardently  for  that 
inheritance  which  is  incorruptible,  as  well  as 
undefiled ;  whose  character  is  perfectioH, 
and  whose  duration  is  eternity.  Into  this, 
dear  sir,  may  you,  and  many  of  your  hearers, 
many  of  your  readers,  in  due  time,  have  an 
abundant  entrance  !  and  there  find,  as  a  mo- 
nument of  mercy,  and  a  trophy  of  redeem- 
ing grace,  your  truly  affectionate  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  CXV. 

Weston,  Oct.  28,  1753. 

And  must  I  resinne  my  correspondences  ? 

Does  my  dear  Mr.  join  with  several 

other  friends,  to  render  me  inexcusably 
rude,  if  I  neglect  writing  any  longer  ?  Then, 
with  the  Divine  assistance,  I  will  again  take 
up  my  pen,  though  an  incessant  series  of 
infimnties  has  wore  it  to  the  very  stumps ; 
for  which  reason  I  had  thrown  it  aside, 
with  an  intention  to  continue  silent  and  in- 
active,  as  a  dead  man  out  of  mind. 

To  make  some  reparation  for  my  past  ne- 
gligence, I  acknowledge  your  late  favour 
without  any  delay.  Yesterday  I  received 
it,  and  to-day  I  answer  it ;  even  though  I 
might  justly  plead  weariness  as  an  excuse 
for  a  dilatory  conduct.  I  have  this  after- 
noon been  preaching  to  a  crowded  audience. 
The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  grant  it  may  be  an 
edified  one  !  You  would  be  surprised,  and 
I  believe  every  body  ^^  onders,  that  I  am  able 
to  officiate  for  myself.  I  am  so  weak,  that 
I  can  hardly  walk  to  the  end  of  my  parish, 
though  a  small  one ;  and  so  tender,  that  I 
dare  not  visit  my  poor  neighbours,  for  fear 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


649' 


of  Ciitc'.iing  cold  in  their  bleak  houses  ;  yet 
1  am  enabled  on  the  Lord's  day  to  catei-hize 
and  exijound  to  my  ehildren  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  to  preaeh  in  the  afternoon.  And 
every  Wednesday  evening,  hay-time  and 
harvest  only  excepted,  I  read  prayers,  and 
give  them  a  leetnre-sermon  in  Weston 
chureh.  This  is  the  Lord's  doing,  or,  us 
your  favou-ite  book  expiesses  it,  this  is  ow- 
ing to  "  the  good  hand  of  my  Ciod  upon 
nifc."  Join  with  me,  my  dear  friend,  in 
(idoring  his  grace,  and  pray,  that  if  my  life 
is  spared,  my  capacity  for  his  service  may 
be  prolonged  ;  that,  if  it  be  his  blessed  will, 
the  day  which  puts  an  end  to  the  one  may 
put  a  period  to  the  other. 

I  thank  you  for  your  news  from  the 
west.  I  assure  you  it  is  highly  pleasing  to 
hear,  especially  concerning  the  prosperity  of 
my  old  acquaintance.  1  often  think  of 
them,  and  with  deep  regret  for  my  unprofit- 
ableness among  them.  Blessed  be  God  for 
ever  and  ever,  that  both  they  and  I  may  have 
a  better  righteousness  than  our  own.  May 
we  all  grow  in  grace,  and  ere  long  meet  in 
glory  ! 

You  need  not  doubt  but  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
my  heart  to  remember,  iu  uiy  best  moments, 
tliat  valuable  and  valued  friend,  with  whom 
I  have  frequently  taken  sweet  counsel  on 
earth,  and  with  whom  I  shad  quickly  be  ad- 
mitted into  the  heaven  of  heavens  ;  there  to 
behold  the  glory,  the  inconceivable  and  eter- 
nal glory  of  him  who  loved  us  both,  and  has 
washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood. 

God  has  been  jdtased  to  pity  the  poor 
youth  for  whose  relief  the  visitation-sermon 
I  preached  at  Northampton  was  printed. 
Through  his  good  providence,  an  edition  of 
two  thousand  is  disposed  of;  besides  a  su- 
pernumerary piovision  of  two  hundred,  des- 
tined to  the  use  of  my  parishes.  Nay,  the 
manager  for  the  distressed  object  is  ventur- 
ing iijion  another  edition.  See,  dear  sir,  if 
(iod  will  bless,  who  can  blast  ?  If  he  will 
further,  what  can  obstruct';'  A  feather,  a 
straw,  if  he  i)leases  to  con)mand,  shall  be  a 
])ol;shed  shaft  in  his  quiver.  Trust  not 
therefore  in  eloquence  or  argument,  in  depth 
of  tliought  or  beauty  of  style,  both  which 
are  confessedly  wanting  in  the  present  ease  ; 
but  "  tru.-'t  ye  in  the  Lord  for  ever,  for  in 
the  Lord  Jehovah  is  everlasting  .strengtii." 

I  am  surprised  that  any  attendant  on  the 
of  should  inquire  after  my  ser- 
mon, unless  it  was  to  criticise,  censure,  and 
expose  ;   because  there  was  really  given  too 

nnich  occasion,  both  to  his and  all  his 

friends,  to  resent   what  some    time  ago    I 
seemed  to  have  done.      In  the  midst  of  the 

controversy  between   the    and , 

there  v.'as  put  into  the Journal  a  para- 
graph from  a  letter  of  mine,  consisting  of  a 

pretty  high  enconiium   on  Mr. As 

tiiough  I  should,    unchallenged  and  unpro- 


voked, step  forth  to  confront  your ;  or 

should  think  to  bear  down  a  objec- 
tions by  my  single  authority.  This  was  also 
inserted  in  the  most  offensive  manner  ;  not 
as  an  extract  from  a  private  epistle,  without 
the  consent  or  knowledge  of  the  writer,  but 
introduced  as  my  own  act,  and  subscribed 
with  my  own  name. 

I  have  found  no  reason  to  retract  one  jot 
or  tittle  of  what  was  said.  And  God  for- 
bid that  I  should  be  ashamed  of  that  iixcom- 
parable  minister  of  Jesus  Christ ;  than 
whom  I  know  no  man  on  earth  who  has 
more  of  the  amiable  and  heavenly  spirit  of 
Christ.  Nor  do  I  remember  to  have  met 
with,  in  all  my  reading,  a  person,  since  the 
days  of  miracle  and  inspiration,  so  eminent- 
ly zealous,  or  so  extensively  useful.  Yet  to 
obtrude  his  character  on  the  public,  at  such 
a  time,  and  with  such  circumstances,  had 
such  an  air  of  oflieiousness,  self  conceit,  and 
arrogance,  as  must  necessarily  disgust  others, 
and  is  what  I  would  absolutely  disavow. 

This,  I  afterwards  learned,  was  done  by  a 
well-meaning  and  most  pious  man  ;  but,  in 
this  particular,  very  injudicious.  It  is  much 
to  be  desired  that  leligious  persons  may  have 
wisdom  with  their  zeal  ;  eyes  in  their  wings, 
that,  as  far  as  is  consistent  with  the  exercise 
of  integrity,  and  the  discharge  of  duty,  we 
may  give  no  offence,  neither  to  the  Jew  nor 
to  the  Greek,  nor  to  the  church  of  God. 

Accept  my  sincerest  thanks  for  your  pro. 
moting  the  spread  of  my  sermon  ;  and  con- 
tinue your  prayers  for  its  enfeebled  author, 
that  if  the  most  high  God  vouchsafes  to  em- 
ploy him  in  any  other  woik  for  the  honour 
of  his  dear  Son,  he  may  be  enabled  to  find 
out  acceptable  words,  and  that  which  is 
written  may  be  words  of  tiuth.  My  affec- 
tionate compliments  wait  upon  Mrs.  . 

.May  you  and  yours  dwell  under  the  defence 
of  the  Alost  High,  and  abide  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Almighty  !  I  am,  dear  sir, 
must  cordially  and  inviolably  yoins,  &c. 


LETTER  CXVL 

Weston,  J\raij  5,  1 734. 
Deah  Sill, —  Some  time  ago,  Mr.  i\Ioses 
Browne  w;.s  so  kind  as  to  transmit  to  me 
three  of  your  letters,  which  gave  me  botii 
pain  and  pleasure.  Pain,  to  think  how  I 
had  neglected  to  cultivate  so  valuable  a 
corres|)ondeiit ;  |)leasure  and  improvement 
from  the  j)erusal  of  ytJiu'  truly  judicious  re- 
marks on  yir.  Kennicoti^  performance, 
and  Mr.  Goodby's  attempt.  The  latter, 
1  am  afraid,  is  not  sensible  of  the  great 
importance,  and  no  small  difficulty,  of  writ- 
ing a  proper  comment  on  the  whole  Bible. 
To  explain  and  illustrate,  with  any  toler- 
able  justice,  a    book  so   viry  subLiiie,   »u 


850 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


vastly  comprehensive,  surely  should  be  the 
the  work,  not  of  a  few  months  or  years, 
but  of  his  whole  life,  were  his  abilities  ever 
60  distinguished.  I  should  be  extremely 
sorry  to  see  that  glonous  gift  of  heaven 
come  abroad  into  the  world,  with  such 
a  collection  of  remarks  as  might  be  more 
likely  to  depreciate  than  minister  to  its 
universal  acceptance. 

You  are  pleased  to  mention  my  intended 
work,  and  to  offer  your  kind  assistance ;  an 
offer  which,  I  assure  you,  I  highly  value  : 
I  desire  nothing  so  much  as  to  have  the 
same  impartiality  of  criticism  exercised 
upon  my  manuscript,  as  you  have  bestowed 
upon  the  aforementioned  writings.  When 
my  piece  has  been  enriched  by  your  correc- 
tions, and  if  it  receives  your  imprimatur,  it 
shall  go  to  the  press  without  delay,  as  there 
is  a  likelihood  of  a  large  demand  for  the 
work  both  at  home  and  abroad.  This  con- 
sideration makes  me  timorous  and  diffident, 
especially  as  my  incessant  inlirmities  and 
unconquerable  languors  render  me  sadly 
unfit  for  the  support  of  so  weighty  and  so 
grand  a  cause.  If  it  was  not  for  such  a 
declaration  in  the  word  of  truth  and  life  as 
this,  "  Not  by  might,  nor  by  strength,  but 
by  my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord,"'  I  should  to- 
tally despair  of  any  success.  Excuse,  dear 
sir,  this  hasty  scriblJle  ;  strengthen  the 
feeblest  of  all  hands  engaged  in  the  divine 
Jesus's  service  ;  and  pity  a  man  whose  head 
aches  while  he  writes  to  you,  and  heart 
almost  fails  when  he  writes  for  the  public  ; 
but  is,  amidst  all  his  weaknesses,  your  very 
sincere  and  much  obliged  friend,  8:c. 


LETTER  CXVIL 

Weston- Favell,  May,  20,  1754. 

My   dear  Friend, — Your    letter    was 
good  news  from  a  far  country,  and  made  \ 
doubly  welcome  by  a  long  preceding  silence, 
and  by  the  valuable  hand  that  brought  it. 

Mr. gave  me  his  company  one  after- 
noon. We  talked  of  Christ  Jesus  and  his 
beloved  minister  at O  that  our  con- 
versation may  be  edifying,  and  build  us 
mutually  up  in  our  most  holy  faith  !  He 
was  so  obliging  as  to  present  me  with  the 
picture  of  the  late  worthy  Doctor.  I  hope, 
when  I  view  it,  I  shall  be  reminded  of  the 
inscription  of  Sennacherib's  statue  ;  E;  £^£ 
rtt  »j.4;v  iuuiBri;  iTco  :  *  or  rather,  that  it 
will  address  me  with  the  apostle's  admoni 
tion,  "  Be  ye  not  slothful,  but  followers  of 
them  who,  through  faith  and  patience,  in- 
herit the  promises." 

Mr.  has  likewise  transmitted  to  me 

seven  of  your  sermons,  six  on  common,  one 


•  Whoevei  looks  upon  me,  let  hini  worship  Cod. 


on  superfine  paper.  For  the  latter  I  ein- 
cerely  thank  you  ;  for  the  former,  I  desire 
you  will  give  nie  leave  to  pay  you.  I  pro- 
pose to  gratify  and  oblige  my  (iiends  with 
them;  and  it  seems  utterly  unieasonable 
that  I  should  be  generous  at  your  expense. 
I  admire  and  applaud  your  noble  reliance  on 
God  and  his  providence  ;  and  were  you  a 
single  man,  I  would  not  offer  to  interpose 
a  prudential  hint.  But  perhaps  the  other 
amiable  parts  of  yourself  may  not  have  the 
same  steady  and  triumphant  faith.  For 
their  sakes,  therefore,  it  may  be  advisable 
to  take  the  ant  for  a  pattern,  and  lay  up 
something  against  a  rainy  day. 

I  heartily  wish  that  good  Providence  on 
which  you  depend,  may  spread  your  piece 
and  prosper  it  in  the  world.  Sure  you 
should  suffer  it  to  be  advertised  in  some  of 
the  principal  newspapers.  I  dare  say  you 
desire,  you  covet,  you  are  ambitious  to  do 
good,  and  be  extensively  useful.  As  this 
then  is  a  commodious  open  door,  let  not  my 
friend's  modesty  or  self-diffidence  shut  it. 

I  have  no  desu'e  to  reconcile  you,  dear 
sir,  to  systems,  human  systems,  of  reli- 
gion ;  I  know  other  devout  and  godly  per- 
sons that  dislike  them.  They  have  been 
serviceable  to  my  soul  ;  and  whenever  I 
read  them,  I  think  they  are  blessed  to  my 
improvement  and  comfort ;  only  let  us  all 
concur  in  prizing  the  blessed  book  of  God. 
May  we  enter  into  its  treasures  more  and 
more,  and  shed  abroad  the  sweet  savour  of 
its    doctrine  in   every  place  !      Above  all, 

my  dear  JMr. ,  may  we  never  cease  to 

testify  of  him  who  is  the  Alpha  and  Omega 
of  the  Scripture,  and  the  soul  and  centre  of 
the  whole  Christian  religion  ;  who  is,  by  in- 
finite degrees,  the  most  grand  and  amiable 
representative  of  the  eternal  Godhead  to 
the  church  ;  and  the  only  source  of  pardon 
and  acceptance,  of  wisdom  and  goodness, 
of  grace  and  glory  to  the  believer. 

1  rejoice  to  find,  that  you  take  in  good 
part  my  very  free  remarks,  and  very  feeble 
attempts  to  criticize.  Indeed,  I  did  not 
doubt  but  you  would.  I  send  two  or  three 
manuscripts,  and  beg  of  you  to  exercise  the 
same  frankness  of  admonition,  and  the  same 
impartiality  of  censure  upon  them.  My 
bookseller  tells  me  it  cainiot  be  comprised 
in  less  than  three  volumes.  I  have  edways 
had  an  aversion  to  so  diffusive  a  woik. 
Many  will  not  have  ability  to  purchase 
thera  ;  many  not  have  leisure  to  read  them  ; 
and  to  some,  I  fear,  the  very  sight  of  three 
volumes  woidd  be  like  loads  of  meat  to  a 
sickly  or  squeamish  stomach.  Yet  I  can- 
not contract  the  work,  and  reduce  it  to  the 
size  of  tvvo,  without  omitting  those  parts 
which  are  intended  to  entertain  the  reader, 
keep  him  in  good  humour,  and  allure  or 
bribe  him  to  go  on.  What  would  you  ad- 
vise? 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


SJJ 


I  have  not  seen  Lord 


■'s  woi'ks.  !  and  will   kiss  tlu;  lips   thiit  iulniiiiistpr  it, 


And  since  llieii-  clianicter  is  so  forbidding,  i  espeeiiiUy  wlu'ii  it  is  intended  to  ])i'eseive 
their  tendency  so  luirlful,  I  shall  not  attempt !  uiy  attempts  to  t'lirtlier  the  glorious  gosjjcl 
to  see  them.      1  do  not  (juotion  hut   tlie  :  IVom  the  cniitem))t  of"  the  ]>uhlic.     1  will, 


great  Physician  will  provide  an  antidote  for 
this  jjoison,  and  the  almighty  Head  of  (he 
fhnreli  will  eniible  his  disciples  to  tread  on 
¥Ui'h  serpents. 

I  am  this  day  a  prisoner  in  my  cham.lser, 
and  write  in  much  jjain.  Blessed  he  (iofl 
i'or  that  world  where  all  tears  will  Iw  wiped 
away  from  our  eyes,  and  "  there  will  he  no 
more  pain."  And  ble.^sed  be  (Jod  for  a 
Saviour,  wlio  is  the  way  to  those  happy 
mansions,   and  the  door  of  admission  into 


ere  long,  send  jon  in  a  frank  a  general 
view  of  my  plan,  which  in  the  execution  is 
become  too  piolix,  and  caimot  be  compre- 
Iiended  in  less  than  ihi'ee  volumes  of  the 
same  size  with  the  Meditations,  iiuiess 
some  judicious  IVietid  will  help  me  to  cur- 
fail  and  abridtre.  I  am  verv  unwilling  to 
publish  a  worlc  consisting  of  three  volumes  : 
I  apprehend  this  will  obstruct  the  sale  not 
a  little.  Be  so  kind  as  to  serve  my  essays 
as  you  have  treated  Mr.  Goodby's  exposi- 


them,      O    that  every  thing   may  lead  my  i  tory  notes;    take    the   pruning-knife,    and 


dear  friend  and  me  more  and  more  to  Christ. 
In  him  alone,  peace,  and  rest,  and  true  joy,  | 
are  to  be  found.  ! 

I  send  letters  viii.  ix.  x.  xi.  and  Dial.  xv.  I 
xvii.  Do,  my  dear  sir,  improve,  polish,  and  ] 
enrich  them.  And  if  fro/l  Almighty  blesses  j 
them,    it   our  adored  Redeemer  vouchsales 


freely  lop  otF  the  lu.xuriaiit  jjarts.  Y'our 
notes  on  Taylor  of  Norwich  I  return  with 
thankful  acknowledgments  ;  you  will  see 
wliat  use  I  have  made  of  them.  I  had 
pemied  more  animadversions  upon  that 
piece  ;  but,  upon  a  review,  I  found  they 
would   swell  the  work  too  much.      I  have 


to  work  by  them,  I  will  thank  you  not  only  |  a  note.  Dial.  iv.  page  4,  that  is  directly  to 


in  these  regions  of  sin  and  mortality,  biit 
when  1  meet  you  before  the  throne  of  the 
Lanvb,  and  amidst  the  angels  of  light.  Till 
tlien,  may  the  Father  of  mercies  keep  you 
us  the  ajiple  of  his  eye,  aiul  make  you  a 
polished  arrow  in  his  quiver.  Believe  me 
to  be,  dear  sir,  your  sincere,  obliged,  and 
afrectionate  brother  in  Christ,  &e. 


the  point;  would  you  advise  me  to  retain 
it  ?  I  had  expunged  it.  1  have  dn-ected 
the  printer  to  restore  it,  but  he.skmitur  hoc. 
You  will  receive  half  a  dozen  of  a  little 
collection  of  scripture  promises,"  which  I 
lately  i)rinted  in  two  small  bits  of  paper, 
chielly  for  the  poor,  to  be  pasted,  one  at 
the  begim)ing,  and  the  other  at  the  end  of 
their  Bibles,  or  indeed  of  any  pious  book. 
Perhaps  you  inay  know  some  to  whom 
such  a  present,  though  minute,  may  be 
welcome.  As  soon  as  you  return  these 
manuscripts,  if  I  have  your  approhition,  I 
purpose  to  employ  the  press.  In  the  mean 
time,  it  shall  be  my  prayer  to  (Jod,  that  he 
may  give  you  a  right  judgment  iu  all  things. 
Your  most  aifectionate,  &c. 


LETTER  CXVIIL 

Watlon,  Mm/ '.10,  17:>4. 

Dear  Sir, — Yesterday  I  received  your 
valuable  letter.  I  thank  you  for  the  com- 
fortable prayer  ;  it  exactly  suits  my  circum- 
stam-es.  May  I  be  enabled  to  breathe  it 
from  my  very  soul  in  faith,  and  may  it  enter 
into  the  ears  of  the  Ciod  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ !  Pray,  irwke  no  ajxdogy 
ibr  the  length  of  your  letter.  Whenever 
you  favour  me  with  an  epistle,  the  more  you 
suffer  yoiu'  pen  to  enlarge,  the  more  you 

will  oblige  and  imj)rove  your  correspondent.  I  why  1  have  not  acknowledged  the  receipt 
1  wish  you  success  in  lini^h)^g  your  chro- |  of  your  last  ?  Indeed  it  deserved  a  most 
Mological  and  historical  trcatibc,  and  shall  j  speedy  ajiii  a  most  grateful  acknowledg- 
be  much  pleased  to  peruse  it.  ment  ;   but    I    was  imwilling    to    interrupt 

Your  solution  of  the  ditliculty  in  Acts  j  your  thoughts  with  fresh  intpjiries.      Your 
vii.    is   veiy   ingenious,  and   subserves   the  { thoughts,  1  hope,   have   been   employed  in 

l)ur|)ases  ol  j)iety.      But  do  you  think  the  I  discovering   tne    Rev.    Dr. 's    mis- 

|)atriarchs  would  inter  the  Sichemites  in  a  !  takes,  an<l  in  teadiing  him  what  that  means 
burying  place  that  belonged  to  a  stranger; ;  whicli  our  Lord  giive  as  the  commission  to 
and  not  rather  deposit  them  in  their  family  !  his  ujinisters,   "  Preach  the  gospel.' 


LETTER  CXIX. 

Jime  12,  I7j4. 
-AIy   dfah    Fkieni), — Do   you    wonder 


vaults,  or  the  sepidchres  where  their  anees 
tors  lay?  I  should  he  glad  to  see  the  se- 
quel of  yoLU'  dissertation  concerning  the 
fallen  angels.  I  send  herewith  four  of  my 
Dialogues,  which  I  beg  of  you  to  examine 
with  a  kind  severity.  I  do  assure  vou  1  j  »  This  collection  it  inserted,  p.iqc  714,  mnicr  the 
can  bi-ar  to  receive  I'ensure  trom  u  irieiid.    ""f  "f  '"^r,"/'"  '" '"  '"'"■'^  "'  ""  '""""""i'  '"*^ 


I  received  your  present  fiom  Mr. ; 

but  1  shall  not  want  any  memorial  of  your 
friendship,  so  long  as  you  will  give  me  leave 
to  cou'^ult   you  about  dillicult   passages  in 


852 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS- 


Scripture ;  and  these  memorials,  I  assure  j  a  moment's  reflection,  how  faulty  they  arff 
you,  will  not  be  transient :  I  shall  carefully  in  themselves,  and  how  pernicious  they 
preserve  them;  and  when  their  number  may  be  to  others.  May  the  good  Lord 
and  size  is  a  little  more  increased,  shall  pardon  and  deliver  you  from  evil  !  and  may 
form  them   into  a  volume,   which  will  be   both  of  us  more  frequently  meditate  on  this 


more  valuable  to  me  than  any  book  in  my 
study. 

The  anecdotes  of  your  own  life  are  very 
welcome ;  if  you  could  add  others,  they 
woiAd  be  still  more  pleasing.  As  you  are 
well  acquainted  with  ancient  history,  have 
you  met  with  any  account  of  the  four  mo- 
iiarchies  ;  concise,  taking  in  only  the  most 
memorable  and  striking  facts ;  and  still 
more  particularly  calculated  to  explain  the 
prophecies  of  Scripture,  and  demonstrate 
their  exact  accomplishments  ?  This,  with 
a  succinct  detail  of  the  destruction  of  Je- 
rusalem,  and  the  dispersion  of  the  Jews, 
would,  I  think,  be  a  very  pretty  historical 
furniture  for  young  minds. 

I  think  all  your  criticisms  please  and 
improve  me,  that  only  excepted  which  re- 
lates to  1  Cor.  ix.  24.  While  I  was  writ- 
ing this,  Mr.  P ,  the  bearer,  came  in  ; 

for  wjiich  reason  you  will  give  me  leave, 
for  the  sake  of  enjoying  his  company,  to 
conclude  :  only  let  me  add,  that  I  purpose, 
if  I  live  till  the  beginni.ng  of  next  week,  to 
finish  what  I  intended  to  say  in  a  letter  by 
the  post ;  which  very  probably  may  anti- 
cipate what  now  comes  from,  dear  sir, 
yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CXX. 

Dfau  Sir, — I  think  one  guinea  is  full 
enough  for  giving  away  to  a  person  whose 
character  we  are  ignorant  of.  There  are 
too  many  fdolet  dictum  fj  to  whom  an  alms 
in  the  way  of  money  is  only  an  administra- 
tion of  fuel  to  their  lusts.  Not  that  I  pre- 
sume to  fix  such  a  charge  upon  the  present 
petitioner  ;  yet  this  conviction  makes  me 
cautious,  where  I  have  no  assurance  of  the 
person's  sobriety.  Had  it  not  been  for  his 
father's  worth,  I  should  have  almost  thought 
it  my  duty  to  have  shut  my'hand,  till  I  re- 
ceived some  more  satisfactory  recommenda- 
tion. We  are  stewards  of  our  Master's 
goods,  and  discretion  is  requisite  in  the 
discharge  of  such  an  office,  as  well  as  fidel- 

I  fancy,  my  dear  friend,  you  did  not  take 
notice  of  an  unbecoming  expression  which 
dropt  from  your  lips  while  I  sat  at  your 
table.  You  was  a  little  chagrined  at  the 
carelessness  of  your  servant,  and  said  to 
him  with  some  warmth,  "  What,  in  the 
name  of  God,  do  you  mean  ?"  Such 
expressions  from  your  lips  wili  be  much 
observed,  and  long  remembered.  I  need 
Bay  no  move ;  you  yourself  will  perceive,  by 


important  text,  "  Set  a  watch  before  our 
mouths,  and  keep  the  door  of  our  lips  !" 
Ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXL 

June  14.,  1754. 
My  dear  Friend, — Before  this  can 
reach  your  hands,  you  will,  in  all  probability, 
have  seen  ]\Ir.  P .  He  is  really  an  in- 
genious gentleman,  has  a  lively  apprehen- 
sion, a  penetrating  judgment,  as  well  as  a 
large  share  of  reading,  ftlay  the  almighty 
Spirit  vouchsafe  to  sanctify  those  endow- 
ments ;  and  make  our  interviews,  not  an 
occasion  of  ambitiously  displaying  our 
talents,  but  of  building  up  one  another  in 
our  most  holy  faith  !  I  can  hardly  agree  to 
my  friend's  proposal  for  altering  the  trans- 
lation of  1  Cor.  ix.  24.  May  it  not  be  an 
incitement  to  the  utmost  diligence?  q.  d. 
The  contenders  know,  that  though  many 
run,  yet  one  alone  can  receive  the  prize  ; 
therefore  they  exert  all  their  strength  and 
all  their  speed,  each  hoping,  and  each  striv- 
ing to  be  that  distinguished  happy  one  : 
So  likewise  do  ye. — Or  may  it  not  be  an 
encoiu^agement,  drawn  from  the  prospect 
of  general  success  ?  q.  d.  How  much 
greater  reason  have  you  to  run  the  Chris- 
tian race,  since  not  one  only,  but  all  may 
receive  the  prize  of  your  high  calling  I  Of 
these  interpretations,  the  former  seems 
most  suitable  to  the  tenor  of  the  apostle's 
discourse.  What  do  you  apprehend  to  be 
the  precise  sense  of  that  expre'^^ion,  sf«  iv 

XUTC!    wirkupafiiviii,     Col.     ii.      10.        Is    OUr 

translation  exact?  Or  should  it  be  render- 
ed, "  ye  are  filled  with  him,  filled  by  him  ?" 
filled  with  wisdom,  holiness,  &e.  I  was 
reading  Psalm  civ.  and  a  doubt  arose  con- 
cerning the  meaning  of  those  expressions, 
"  He  layeth  the  beams  of  his  chambers  in 
the  waters ;  He  maketh  the  clouds  his 
chariot."  Does  the  Psalmist  intend  to 
signify  the  same  thing  by  waters  and 
clouds  ?  Or  by  waters  does  he  mean  some- 
what different  from  the  fluid  which  compo- 
ses the  clouds?  Houbigant  finds  fault  with 
our  translation  oi  Dure  et  incrrdibilitrr  Arias, 
cuntignavit  aqnis ;  he  would  correct  it  ac- 
cording to  his  usual  way,  by  altering  the 
original,  Nos  legiimis  cooperiens  :  Sic  Icf/mit 
prater  Si/rum,  omnes  in  Pohjglottis.  What 
think  you  of  verse  19,  going  down  ?  Is  that 
all  which  the  sun  knows  or  observes? 
Would  not  that  be  a  very  imperfect  dis- 
charge of  hi.s  office  ?     May  not  the  original 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


853 


phra^ie  denote  his  going,  his  circuit,  his 
whole  jyuniey?  C"omi)reheiidiiig,  not  only 
his  setting,  but  his  rising,  his  meridian,  and 
all  his  stages  ;  together  with  his  passage 
from  one  tropic  to  another,  and  his  distri- 
bution, not  only  of  day,  hut  of  seasons  also, 
through  the  various  regions  of  the  globe  ? 
Is  this  word  snismifi  rightly  translated  ?  By 
seasons  we  generally  mean  the  four  grand 
distributions  of  the  year,  into  spring,  and 
summer,  autumn  and  winter.  But  these, 
you  know,  are  neither  occasioned  by  the 
iiiiluences,  nor  regulated  by  the  appearances 
of  the  moon.  I  could  be  glad  to  see,  from 
your  critical  pen,  a  correct  translation  of 
this  fine  psalm  ;  together  with  such  remarks 
as  may  explain  what  is  difficult,  and  illus- 
trate what  is  beautiful.  Next  Saturday  I 
hope  to  send  your  manuscript.  In  the  mean 
time,  let  me  jjromise  mysell  a  remembrance 
in  your  prayers,  and  expect  the  favour  of  a 
letter,  which  will  be  thankfully  received, 
and  higlily  valued  by,  dear  sir,  affectionately 
yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXIL 

Weston,  June  21,  1754. 

Dear  Sir, — Before  this  arrives,  I  hope 
my  parcel  transmitted  according  to  your 
direction  will  have  reached  your  hands  ; 
and  my  Dialogues  will  have  received  the 
free  correction  and  the  friendly  improve- 
metits  of  your  pen. 

As,  through  my  many  and  repeated  in- 
firmities, I  had  long  discontinued  and  have 
often  intermitted  my  intended  work,  lam 
informed  from  London,  that  the  abettors  of 
the  Socinian  scheme  have  been  pleased  to 
triumph  in  my  disappointment ;  imagining 
that,  through  fear  or  inability,  I  had  laid 
aside  my  design;  and  insinnating,  that  I 
had  changed  my  principles,  or  was  conscious 
of  the  weakness  of  my  cause.  From  these 
gentlemen,  if  my  essay  should  appear  in 
public,  it  may  expect  a  severe  examination, 
and  probably  a  violent  attack.  I  hope  your 
friendship  will  anticipate  their  inveteracy ; 
and  remove  those  blemishes  which  might 
give  them  a  handle  for  censure,  or  a  ground 
for  insult.  My  jirayer  for  my  kind  cor- 
rector is,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  whose 
sa(Ted  honour  and  precious  interest  are  con- 
cerned, would  give  him  "  the  spirit  of  wis- 
dom and  undeistanding,  the  spirit  of  counsel 
and  of  might."  Is  there  not  a  peculiar  force 
and  beauty  in  this  last  metaphor  ?  How 
would  you  develop  and  set  it  forth  to  com- 
mon view  ?  I  have  just  had  occasion  to 
considei-  that  remarkable  expression  in 
Psalm  XV,  ;  methinks  the  Bible  translation 
does  not  recominejid  itself  to  my  judgment : 
I  am  better  satisfied,  and  more  edified  with 


the  version  used  by  our  Liturgy  ;  only  it 
seems  not  to  have  preserved  the  strength  of 
the  original.  However,  I  will  say  no  more 
upon  this  point ;  because,  if  i  live  to  send 
another  packet  of  probationary  manuscripts, 
you  will  see  my  sentiments  on  this  particu- 
lar incorporated  with  the  work 

What  is  your  opinion  as  to  publishing 
three  volumes  ?  Mr.  Moses  Browne  and 
another  friend  pronounce  in  the  affirmative  ; 
though  I  am  much  afraid  that  this  circum- 
stance will  clog  the  sale.  There  are  seve- 
ral pieces  that  are  a  kind  of  excursion  from 
the  principal  subject,  calculated  to  relieve 
and  entertain  tiie  reader,  yet  not  without 
administering  some  spiritual  benefit.  A 
whole  dialogue  upon  the  wonders  of  wisdom, 
power,  and  goodness,  displayed  in  the  con- 
trivance and  formation  of  the  human  body. 
Two  or  three  letters,  pointing  out  the 
traces  of  the  same  grand  and  amiable  attri- 
butes in  the  constitution  of  the  earth,  the 
air,  and  the  ocean.  These  I  am  afraid  to 
lop  off",  lest  it  should  be  like  wiping  the 
bloom  from  the  plum,  or  taking  the  gold 
from  the  gingerbread.  To  you  I  say  gin- 
gerbread, though  I  would  not  say  so  to  the 
public  ;  for  I  really  think  the  taste  of  the 
present  age  is  somewhat  like  the  humour 
of  children  :  Their  milk  must  be  sugared, 
their  wine  sjiiced,  and  their  necessary  food 
garnished  with  fiowers,  and  enriched  with 
sweetmeats.  In  my  next  I  hope  to  lay 
before  you  a  summary  view  of  my  whole 
design.  I  forget  whether  I  enclosed  in  my 
last,  one  of  the  little  collection  of  Scripture 
Promises  which  I  caused  lately  to  be  print- 
ed, for  the  benefit  and  comfort  of  my  peo- 
ple. I  would  have  them  pasted  into  their 
Bibles  ;  and  may  tlve  God  of  all  grace  com- 
mand them  to  be  mixed  with  faith,  and  in- 
grafted into  their  hearts.  If  I  have  already 
desired  your  acceptance  of  one,  these  I  now 
send  may  be  for  your  friends.  I  fancy  a 
short  but  lively  discourse  upon  each  of  the 
eight  heads,  and  the  texts  selected,  might, 
after  they  have  been  committed  to  the  me- 
mories of  the  i)eople,  be  acceptable,  and 
what  the  apostle  calls  "  a  word  in  season." 
"  Angry  at  the  length  of  your  letters  !" 
No,  dear  sir  !  They  are,  as  Tully  said  of 
Demosthenes's  orations,  "  The  longer  the 
more  valuable."  I  am  your  obliged  friend, 
&c. 


LETTER  CXXIIL 

My  dear  Friend, — Tiiank  you  for  send- 
ing the  cuts  designed  for  the  Bible.  All 
my  hope  with  regard  to  them  is,  that  they 
may  remind  some  beholders  of  the  tran- 
scendent excellency  of  the  sacred  writings. 
I  propose,  by  the  next  post,  to  write  to 
Mr. I  would  very  willingly  present 


F3'l 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


him  witli  my  picture,  hs  you  desire  it  ;  but 
I  really  think  my  picture,  if  much  better 
(lone,  is  not  worth  a  frame.  And,  I  own, 
1  do  not  much  like  giving  away  what  sa- 
vours more  of  vanity  than  benevolence. 

Cannot  you  get  a  little  leisure  to  peruse 
part  of  my  intended  work  ?  I  have,  for  a 
month  or  six  weeks,  been  prosecuting  it  in 
eirrnest.  I  have  sent  four  of  the  Dialogues 
transcribed  by  my  amanuensis.  Do  steal 
a  little  time  from  the  multiplicity  of  your 
medical  engagements  to  examine  them  ;  re- 
trench, where  I  am  redundant ;  clear  up, 
where  I  am  obscure ;  polish  what  is  uncouth. 
I  hope  Mr. will  do  me  the  same  fa- 
vour ;  and  may  the  God  of  wisdom  give 
both  my  friends  and  me  a  right  judgment 
in  all  things.  I  have  seen  Mr.  's  an- 
swer. God  be  praised  that  1  had  no  occa- 
sion for  controversy.  I  have  not  seen  Mr. 
Moses  Browne  this  many  a  day.  The  last 
time  he  was  with  me  he  talked  about  rt- 
printing  his  Sunday  Thoughts,  and  adding 
a  third  pait,  which  he  had  finishetl,  and 
which  com[)letes  his  scheme.  I  would 
have  the  three  parts  jirinted  in  a  neat 
pocket  volume.  Have  you  read  his  Poem 
on  the  Universe  ?  I  think  it  is  the  most 
pleasing,  and,  nideed,  the  best  thisig  he  ever 
wrote.  I  ho[)e  the  God  of  heaven  will 
smile  upon  his  en(ieavours,  and  animate  us 
all  to  labour  \n  his  dear  Son's  cause,  and 
prosper  the  labours  which  he  himself  excites. 
And  if  God  will  prosper,  who  shall  ob- 
struct ?  "  If  he  will  work,  who  can  let  it  ?" 
My  dear  friend,  let  our  eyes  be  ever  looking 
unto  the  hills  from  whence  cometh  our  help ; 
to  that  omnipotent  Being  who  stretched 
out  the  heavens,  and  laid  the  foundations  of 
the  earth  ;  to  that  all-gracious  Being  who 
spared  not  (unparalleled,  stupendous  good- 
ness !)  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  freely 
gave  him  up  for  us  both.  O  that  we  may 
dearly  love  him  ;  firmly  trust  in  him  ;  and 
desire  nothing  so  much  as  to  know  him 
now  by  faith,  and  after  this  life  have  the 
fruition  of  his  glorious  Godhead ! — To  his 
everlasting  compassions  I  commit  my 
friend  ;  and  am  inviolably  yours,  8ic. 


more  of  the  Dialogues,  whidi  will  open  a 
new  field  for  your  friendly  hand  to  weed, 
cultivate,  and  improve.  Exercise  the  same 
benevolent  severity  upon  them,  and  conti- 
nue to  retrench,  as  well  as  to  reform. 

I  am  obliged  for  your  criticisms  ;  and  oh  ! 
that  I  may  be  imboldened  by  the  extract 
from  your  intended  work.  No  man,  I  be- 
lieve, stands  in  more  need  of  such  encou- 
ragements than  myself.  Timorous  by  na- 
ture,  and  made  abundantly  more  so  by  a  long 
series  of  unintermitted  languors,  and  a  very 
debilitated  constitution,  forwliich  reason,  I 
promise  myself,  you  will  commend  the 
writer  and  his  attempt  to  that  great  Jeho- 
vah in  whom  is  everlasting  strength  ;  and 
for  your  kind  assistance  I  shall  think  my- 
self bound  to  praise  his  adorable  Majesty, 
and  to  pray  that  he  would  "  till  you  with 
all  wisdom  and  spiritual  understandmg ; 
that  you  may  walk  worthy  of  the  Lord, 
unto  all  pleasing,  being  fruitful  in  every 
good  work,  and  increasing  in  the  knowledge 
of  God." 

I  will,  since  I  hare  the  concurrence  of 
^•our  judgment,  and  I  hope  the  guidance  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  determine  upon 
three  volumes.  How  long  do  you  appre- 
hend it  will  be  before  your  chronological 
and  historical  piece  will  be  finished  ?  I 
hope  it  will  abound  with  explanations  of 
Scripture,  and  be  rich  with  short,  but  strik- 
ing improvements.  May  you  continually 
enjoy  that  unction  from  the  Holy  One  which 
teacheth  all  things  !  And,  oh  !  that  its  pre- 
cious influences  may  descend  upon,  dear 
sir,  your  much  obliged  and  truly  affectionate 
friend,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXIV. 

Weston,  July  8,  1754- 
Dear  Sir, — Your  favour  of  June  28,  is 
now  before  me,  and  demands 'my  sincerest 
thanks  ;  and  mine,  I  assure  you,  are  of  the 
dincerest  kind.  I  am  sensible  it  is  not  in 
every  one's  pow«r  to  do  such  acts  of  kind- 
iress  ;  and  if  Providence  vouchsafes  to  smile 
upon  my  essay,  they  will  be  of  the  most 
lasting,  the  mo>t  extensive,  and  the  most 
important  nature.  If  I  live  till  next  Sa- 
turday,  I  propose    to   transmit  to  you  six 


LETTER  CXXV. 

Juhj  13,  ]7j4. 
Dear  Sir, — I  hope  my  last  letter, 
wherein  I  apprized  you  of  a  parcel  to  be 
transmitted  to  you,  is  in  your  hand.  Here 
are  six  Dialogues.  May  the  everlasting 
and  wonderful  Counsellor  enable  you  to 
search  them  as  Avith  a  candle,  and  make 
them  such  as  he  will  condescend  to  bless  ! 
I  have  dropped  several  objections  and  an- 
swers ;  yet  I  fear  too  many  are  still  retain- 
ed. A  multiplicity  of  objects  dissipates  the 
attention  either  of  the  eye  or  the  mind. 
Are  what  the  painters  call  the  two  unities 
preserved  ?  one  principal  action  and  one 
grand  point  of  view,  in  each  piece  ?  Does 
Theron  speak  enough  ;  or  with  such  weight, 
and  such  a  spice  of  the  sal  Atticus,  as  might 
suit  his  character  ?  Here  and  there  a  touch 
of  wit  or  genteel  satire  in  him,  I  think, 
would  be  gracefid,  especially  in  the  first 
part,  before  he  is  brought  to  a  connction  of 
his  guilt.    1  hope  you  will  not  oidy  find  out 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS.  855 

,•'11  the  faults,  but  tliat  you  will  point  this  j  prove  a  blessing  to   both  the  universities  ; 
Hirow,  and  trioi  its  feathers  ;  and  may  the    and  be  a  means  of  testifying,  to  both  those 

arm  of  the  Most    High   launch   it,   that  it    '  "      ' 

may  be  the  arj)\v  of  the  Lord's  salvation. 
I  am,  dear  sir,  affectionately  and  gratefully 


yours. 


8:c 


LETTER  CXXVL 

Weston- Favcll,  Auc].  '2.1,  1754. 
l^EAR  Sir, — I  have  read  part  of  your 
chronological  manuscript,*  and  I  bless  God 
for  giving  you  such  a  penetrating  and  com- 
prehensive mind.  To  confess  the  truth,  it 
is  beyond  my  power  to  follow,  even  in  those 
researches  where  you  have  surmounted  the 
difficulties  and  cleared  the  way  ;  but  there 
are  many  things  \^■hich  I  understand,  and 
with  which  I  am  delighted  ;  insomuch  that, 
if  you  do  not  intend  to  publish  it,  I  should 
very  much  desire  a  coi)y  of  it.  15ut  what 
should  hinder  the  publication  ?  Why  should 
not  the  learned  world  be  improved  by  what 
is  profound,  and  the  whole  world  be  edi- 
iied  by  what  is  easy  ?  I  have  no  acquaint- 
ance in  this  neighbourhood  who  is  versed 
in  chronological  inquiries,  and  capable  of 
judging  of  your  computations  and  argu- 
ments ;  otherwise  I  would  obtain  for  you 
liis  opinion.  I\Ir.  Moses  Browne  (author 
of  the  Sunday  Thoughts)  will  gladly  peruse 
it.  Will  you  excuse  me  though  I  add  no 
more?  A  gentleman  waits  for  me  below, 
to  transact  an  affair  of  which  I  understand 
but  very  little  ;  he  is  come  to  take  my  par- 
sonage-grounds, in  order  to  plough  them  for 
woad,  an  herb  much  used  by  the  dyers. 
]\Iay  prosperity  attend  his  plough ;  but, 
above  all,  may  it  attend  yours  and  mine, 
which  would  open  the  ground  for  the  seed 
of  the  everlasting  gospel.  I  am  loath  to 
miss  a  j)ost,  loath  to  defer  my  thanks  for 
your  last  very  valuable  favour,  otherwise 
you  would  not  be  put  off  with  such  a  hasty 
scrap  from,  dear  sir,  your  most  obliged  and 
affectionate,  8:c. 


LETTER  CXXVIL 

October  2. 
Sir, — I  have  perused  the  greatest  part  of 
i)r.  Hodge's  Elihu.  It  is  wrote,  I  think, 
in  a  masculine  and  noble  style  ;  is  animated 
with  a  lively  spirit  of  piety;  and  urges, 
with  a  becoming  zeal,  some  of  the  grand 
peculiarities  of  the  gospel.     I  hope  it  will 


•  The  manuscript  which  Mr.  Hervey  here  take.s 
notice  of  is  called  "  A  short  Chronicle  of  the  most 
remarkable  events  from  the  beginning  of  the  world 
to  the  buildisf  of  Solomon't  "Temple." 


learned  bodies,  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 
Dear  Mr.  has  been  gone  from  us  al- 
most a  fortnight.  What  a  burning  and  a 
shining  light  is  he  !  Burning  with  minis- 
terial zeal,  and  shining  in  all  holy  conversa- 
tion. I  hoj)e  our  dear  friend  's  ser- 
mon was  attended  with  a  ble.ssing;  and  may 
the  blessing  be  greatly  increased  by  the 
publication  !  May  the  drop  become  a  river, 
and  the  river  become  a  sea ! — I  was  yester- 
day with  five  or  six  young  students,  and  this 
day  with  three  ingenious  gentlemen  of  tho 
laity,  two  of  whom  are  acquainted  with  the 
Hebrew.  Our  conversation  turned  wholly 
upon  that  superexcellent  and  delightful  sub- 
ject, "  the  only  true  (Jod,  and  Jesus  Christ 
whom  he  has  sent."  Oh,  may  that  al- 
inighty  Being,  who  has  every  human  heart 
in  his  hand,  sanctify  our  discourse  to  our 
eternal  advantage  !  And  let  us,  my  dear 
friend,  talk  for  him,  write  for  him,  and  live 
for  him,  who  "  died  for  our  sins,  and  is 
risen  again  for  our  justification."  May  his 
Spirit  be  your  continual  guide,  and  his  fa- 
vour your  everiasting  portion  !  Ever 
yours,  while,  &c. 


LETTER  CXX^^in. 

Dear  Sir, — The  gentleman  who  versi- 
fied part  of  my  Meditations  is  Mr.  New- 
comb  of  Hackney.  I  thought  it  exceedingly 
well  executed ;  much  superior  to  his  ode 
on  the  final  dissolution  of  the  world,  which 
he  has  since  published. 

As  to  Bishop  Fowler's  Design  of  Chris- 
tianity, he  has,  as  far  as  I  have  read,  good 
sense,  clear  language,  and  sometimes  fine 
striking  sentiments.  But  I  most  cordially 
embrace  the  proposition,  viz.  "  That  faith 
justifieth  only  as  it  apprehendeth  the  merits 
and  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ,"  which 
he  most  peremptorily  condemns.  Please 
to  cast  your  eye  to  the  fifth  line  of  the  next 
paragraph — (the  Bishop's  words  are,  "  Im- 
putation of  Christ's  righteousness  consists 
in  dealing  with  sincerely  righteous  persons 
as  if  they  were  perfectly  so,  for  the  sake  of 
.lesus  C.Ihrist ;) — and  compare  his  "sincere- 
ly righteous  persons"  with  St.  Paul's  de- 
claration, Rom.  iv.  5,  that  Christ  justifieth 
the  ungodly.  AVhen  you  have  perused  and 
considered  Bishop  Fowler's  treatise  tho- 
roughly, please  to  let  me  have  it  again  ;  es- 
])ecially  as  you  and  I\Ir.  H — r  apprehend  he 
has  given  better  directions  for  the  attain- 
ment of  true  holiness  tlian  Mr.  Marshall. 
Thanks  for  young  Mr.  (." — 's  sermon.  He 
is  a  correct  writer,  but  wants  the  main 
thing.  "  Christ  is  all  in  all."  He  cither 
forgets,  or  understands  those  word*    in  a 


855 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


milliner  very  diifcreiit  from  my  apprehen- 
sion. Mr.  G — t  has  much  >,'ood  sense, 
but  to  me  his  sermon  reads  flat  :  in  his 
discourse,  likewise,  I  wished  to  have  seen 
more  of  our  Immanuel's  glory.      I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXIX. 

Weston,  Oct.  20,  1754. 
Dear  Sir, — I  received  the  parcel  safe, 
and  desire  to  bless  God's  providence  for 
not  suffering  the  manuscripts  to  be  lost  in 
their  passage,  as  they  had  like  to  have 
been  ;  and  to  thank  my  kind  friend  for  his 
judicious  remarks.  Herein  is  enclosed 
Dialogue  xvi.  I  durst  not  venture  to  com- 
mit this  to  the  press  without  submitting  it 
to  your  correction.  Dear  sir,  examine  it 
■with  a  critical  severity ;  and  may  he,  whose 
eyes  are  as  a  flame  of  tire,  enable  you  to 
discern  and  rectify  what  is  amiss.  It  is,  as 
you  will  easily  perceive,  a  subject  of  the 
last  importance.  O  that,  in  handling  it,  I 
might  be  "  a  workman  that  need  not  be 
ashamed."  Pardon  my  scrajis  of  answers, 
to  your  large  and  valuable  letters.  I  hard- 
ly know  how  to  get  a  moment's  leisure,  so 
very  intent  am  I  now  on  the  publication  of 
my  book.  1  have  not  been  able,  for  want 
of  time,  to  read  over  this  transcript :  I  hope 
the  copier  has  not  made  any  great  mistakes. 
Be  so  good,  dear  sir,  as  to  favour  me  with 
your  remarks  on  this  manuscript  as  soon  as 
you  possibly  can  :  you  need  not  return  it, 
only  send  me  your  remarks.  But  you  will 
please  to  preserve  this,  for  fear  of  an  acci- 
dent happening  to  the  other  copy. — I  am, 
dear  sir,  yours  most  affectionately,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXX. 

Thursdatj,  noon. 

My   dear   Frif.nd, — I   am   glad    Dr. 

C got  time,  and  took  the  trouble  of 

overlooking  the  manuscripts.  He  has  the 
judgment  of  a  critic,  and  the  freedom  of  a 
friend.  Closes  Browne  is  persuaded  by  the 
bookseller  to  print  bis  poem  on  the  Uni- 
verse, and  his  Sunday  Thoughts,  in  one  vo- 
lume, and  intends  to  entitle  it,  The  Works 
and  Rest  of  Creation  ;  with  the  addition 
of  some  more  particular  explicatory  and 
subordinate  title.  I  objected  to  this  gene- 
ral title ;  made  a  query,  whether  it  was 
strictly  proper  ?  or,  if  jiroper,  whether  suf- 
ficiently significant  ?  Instead  of  it,  I  pro- 
posed, The  Works  of  Creation,  and  Rest 
of  the  Sabbath. 

Dr.  Gill  shall  tell  you  my  sentiments,  in 
relation  to  Wesley,  on  the  perseverance  of 
the  saints.     Both  their  pamphlets  on  this 


subject  I  send  you.  Whether  his  replies 
and  interpretations  in  the  first  part  are 
sound  and  satisfactory,  judge  you  ;  the  con- 
siderations suggested  in  the  latter  ])art,  I 
think,  are  fuH  of  weight,  rich  with  conso- 
lation, and  worthy  of  a  place  in  our  memo-  . 
ries  and  in  our  heart.  i\Iay  our  own  medi- 
tation fix  them  in  the  one.  and  the  Sjjirit 
of  our  (irod  implant  them  in  the  other! 

I  am  entirely  of  your  opinion  with  resrard 
to  Staynoe  on  Salvation  by  Jesus  Christ ; 
generally  very  jirolix,  and  somewhat  tire- 
some to  the  reader ;  yet  liis  style  is  good, 
nervous,  and  beautiful.  Prolixity,  I  find, 
is  an  epidemical  fault  among  writers  ;  the 
censure  I  pass  on  him  rebounds  on  myself: 
save  me  from  this  misconduct,  by  lopjjing 
off  my  redundancies.  I  h.ave  not  looked 
into  Staynoe  for  a  great  while  ;  when  I  re- 
vise him  again,  you  shall  ha\e  my  senti- 
ments concerning  his  doctrine ;  which, 
though  excellent  in  the  main,  is  not,  I  ap- 
prehend, perfectly  consistent,  nor  evangeli- 
cal throughout.      I   have  seen   ]\Ir.  's 

verses  on  Dr.  's  character ;  I  am  ap- 
prehensive fiiiter  nos)  that  it  will  rather 
depreciate  than  exalt  the  Rev.  Doctor's 
credit  among  readers  of  a  gospel  spirit. 
There  are  indeed  the  sales  Attici,  but  where 
are   the    sales  evangelici?     What  says  our 

lively  friend ?  I  think  he  is  the  Caleb 

of  our  fraternity.  Caleb  signifies  all  heart. 
His  name  and  nature  correspond.  Did  he 
not  warm  you  with  his  zeal  ?  Oh  that  we 
may  glow  with  love  to  Him,  who  bled  for 
love  of  us  !  I  have  received  a  letter  from 
our  dear  friend  on  the  American  continent. 
He  mentions  you  in  particular,  and  your 
late  guest.  Love,  coi'dial  love  he  trans- 
mits to  you  both.  We  believe  him,  when 
he  makes  a  profession  of  kindness  ;  and 
why  are  we  so  backward  to  believe  the 
more  repeated,  more  solemn,  and  infinitely 
more  faithful  assurances,  which  the  Scrip- 
ture gives  us  of  our  Redeemer's  love  ?  Let 
us  blush  and  be  confounded  for  our  unbe- 
lief; and  may  the  Lord  of  all  power  and 
grace  help  our  unbelief! — Ever  yours,  &c. 

P.  S. — Certainly  our  friend  judges  right ' 
in  not  acting  as  a  justice  of  peace,  unless 
he  would  submit  to  the  fatigue  of  acquaint- 
ing himself  with  our  national  laws  :  A 
study  which  is,  if  I  rightly  judge,  which,  I 
am  sure,  would  be  to  my  taste  of  all  others 
the  most  jejune  and  irksome.  Not  so  the 
Scriptures  !  God  hasi  in  tender  indulgence 
to  our  disposition,  strewed  them  with 
flowers,  dignified  them  with  wonders  ;  en- 
riched them  with  all  that  may  delight  the 
man  of  genius,  and  make  the  man  of  God 
perfect.  May  we,  as  new-  born  babes,  de- 
sire the  sincere  milk  of  the  word  ;  and 
grow,  grow  thereby  in  knowledge,  grow  in 
faith,  grow  in  love,  in  holiness,  in  every 
amiable  and  happy  accomplishment.      Do 


A   COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


857 


not  yvA\  practise  that  excellent  rule,  of  se- 
Itctiiij,'  lor  meditation  each  day  a  text  of 
ifcriptiire?  As  to  jjublishiiifr  the  lirst  vo- 
l-(mie  of  Theroii  and  Aspasio  before  the 
Otliers  are  ready,  I  really  know  not  how  to 
act-  May  the  God  of  unerriri";  wisdom 
vouchsafe  to  direct,  for  his  dear  Son  out 
glorious  Intercessor's  sake 


LETTER  CXXXL 

Wcaton,  /hit).  12,  I7j4. 

RkvkuknI)  and  DicAii  SiK, — I  received 
your  favour  from  Islington,  and  acknow- 
ledge myself  indebted  to  you  for  a  preceding 
one  from  Scotland.  I  am,  both  to  you  and 
to  other  ofmy  woithy  correspondents,  quite 
an  insolvent ;  yet  trust  my  many  infirmities, 
in  concurrence  with  your  candour,  will 
plead  my  excuse. 

1  called  myself  an  insolvent ;  but  I  shall, 
ere  long,  make  one  public  effort  to  pay 
from  the  press  all  my  debts  of  an  epistolary 
nature  :  the  payment,  I  confess,  will  not  be 
in  the  very  same  specie,  but  it  will  hear  the 
same  image  and  sujierscription,  not  Cffisar's 
but  Christ's.  This  will  recumsnend  it  to 
my  correspondents,  and  not  only  bespeak 
their  kind  acceptance  of  it,  but  engage  their 
cordial  prayers  in  its  behalf.  Do,  my  dear 
sir,  remember  my  poor  enterprise,  when 
you  call  upon  him  who  is  omnipotent;  he 
can  bid  the  wounded  come  against  the  for- 
tress, and  the  lame  take  the  prey.  Unless 
he  succour,  unless  he  support,  what  can 
imjjotence  itself  expect,  but  to  miscarry  in 
the  attempt,  and  be  a  laughing-stock  to  the 
enemy  ?  But  I  read,  and  this  encourages 
me,  "  ft  is  not  by  might,  nor  by  strength, 
but  by  my  Spirit,  saith  the  Lord." 

I  did  not  know,  till  yours  informed  me, 

that  Mr. was  gone  to  bis  long,  and  I 

trust  to  his  hap])y  home.  O  that  we  who 
.survive  may  have  our  affection.s  fixed  there, 
where  our  God  and  Saviour  resides,  win- 
tber  our  friends  and  relations  are  removed  ! 

I  wish  jou  and  your  sjiousc  much  joy  in 
each  other,  but  much  more  in  Christ  Jesiis. 
As  the  bridegroom  rejoicethover  the  bride, 
.so  may  the  Lord  your  God  rejoice  over  you 
botli.     Let  me  beg  of  you  to  present  my 

atFectionate  salutations  to  good  Mr.  G 

Assure  him,  that  my  silence  did  not  ])ro- 
cecd  from  any  indifference  to  his  friendshij), 
or  disesteem  for  his  work  ;  but  I  was  much 
indisposed.  I  had  nothing  to  communicate, 
and  to  have  written  in  such  circumstances, 
would  have  been  burdensome  to  me,  and 
imserviceable  to  him.  My  respectful  com- 
pliments attend  Mrs.  O ,  your  spouse, 

and  yourself;  and  I  entreat  your  united 
prayers  for,  dear  sir,  your  sincere  friend 
and  brother  in  Christ,  &;c. 


PS. —  The  enclosed  collection  of  scrip- 
tural promises,  are  a  little  present  which  I 
make  to  my  people.  They  are  intended  to 
be  pasted,  one  at  the  beginning,  the  other 
at  the  end,  of  religious  books.  Perhaps 
some  of  your  friends  may  not  disdain  this 
spiritual  nosegay,  because,  though  little,  it 
is  culled  from  the  garden  of  God. 


LETTER  CXXXIL 

Wednesday  Morning. 

Dear  Sir, — I  was  lately  favoured  at 
Weston  v.ith  a  visit  from  the  Reverend 
i\Ir.  Walker  of  Truro,  who  is  indeed  a 
most  excellent  man,  much  of  a  gentleman, 
and  seems  well  to  deser\e  the  cliaracter  he 
bears :  there  is  something  in  him  very  en- 
gaging, yet  very  venerable.  During  our 
conversation,  I  felt  a  kind  of  reverential 
awe  on  my  mind,  blended  with  more  than 
fraternal  affection.  How  old  is  he  ?  By 
his  looks  he  apjjcars  to  be  past  forty.  What 
a  reproach  is  it  to  our  men  in  power,  nay, 
to  the  nation  itself,  that  so  valuable  a  per- 
son should  at  this  time  of  life  be  no  more 
than  a  country  curate  ?  But  he,  good  man  ! 
disregards  the  things  of  this  world.  That 
time  which  too  many  of  his  brethren  spend, 
to  the  disgrace  of  their  function,  in  worldly 
compliances,  and  hunting  after  church  pre- 
ferments, he  employs  as  a  faithful  labourer 
in  the  vineyard  of  Christ ;  and  pays  all  due 
obedience  to  the  apostle's  important  in- 
junction, "  Redeem  time  !"  How  would 
some  of  the  primitive  bishops  have  sought 
after  a  man  of  his  exemplary  piety,  and 
have  given  him  every  mark  of  their  real 
esteem  !  Sed  tempura  mutantur,  et  nos  mu- 
tamur  in  illis. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  the  account  of 
the  religious  society  at  Truro,  of  which  Mr. 
Walker  is  the  founder  and  present  director. 
It  is  an  admirable  plan  !  I  would  have  en- 
deavoured (had  my  health  permitted  my 
attendance)  to  have  formed  one  of  the  same 
kind  at  Northampton.  I  heartily  wish  so 
useful  an  institution  was  more  known,  and 
well  established  in  all  the  principal  towns 
in  this  kingdom  ;  as  I  am  persuaded  such 
a  society  must  be  productive  of  great  good, 
and  in  some  degree  revive  the  droo])ing  in- 
tere^t  of  Clhristianity,  wherever  it  was  pru- 
dently managed.  We  had  in  this  neigh- 
bourhood a  religious  assembly,  of  which  I 
myself  was  a  member;*  but  no  one  could 
hi!  admitted  who  did  not  understand  Greek, 
as  the  chief  design  of  that  meeting  was  to 
imj)rove  each  other  in  scriptural  knowledge, 


•  The  Ruks  and  Orders  of  the  Assembly  here  men- 
tioned, are  inserted  p.  7' 7- 


A    COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


858 

and  consequently  could  be  of  little  use  com- 
paratively with  JMr.  Walker's  plan.* 

I  have  lately  read  Mr.  Wharton's  edition 
of  Virgil,  and  much  approve  the  printing 
the  Latin  on  one  side,  and  his  poetical 
translation  on  the  other  :  he  is  a  clever  man  ; 
but  I  think  he  might  have  enriched  his 
notes  with  many  more  observations  on  the 
beauties  and  masterly  strokes  of  the  poet. 
I  would  not  for  my  own  part  give  a  straw 
for  the  most  accurate  disputations  upon  a 
chronological  or  geographical  nicety ;  but  I 
would  applaud  and  thank  the  critic  who  will 
assist  me  to  see  the  art  and  address,  to  feel 
the  force  and  fire,  and  to  enter  into  the  spirit 
and  delicacy  of  such  an  author  as  \^irgil. 
I  am,  dear  sir,  with  great  respect,  your  ob- 
liged and  very  humble  servant,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXXin. 

Saturday  morninri. 

My  dear  Friend, — I  have  read  over, 
again  and  again,  the  corrected  copy  of  your 
little  tract  which  you  intend  for  the  next 
e.iition,  and  have  examined  it  with  my  best 
attention  :  not  able  to  make  any  amend- 
ment that  is  considerable,  I  have  only  sug- 
gested some  slight  alterations.  Elegance 
you  do  not  covet  in  such  a  composition ; 
plani  and  neat  is  the  proper  array  for  such 
an  address. 

I  am  surprised  to  read  the  letter  which 
the  popular  gentleman  from  Dm-ham  writes 
against  your  book.  Never  fear,  my  friend  ; 
our  writings,  as  well  as  our  lives,  are  in  the 
hand  of  God  Aln)ighty  :  if  he  will  spread, 
what  shall  obstruct  them  ?  if  he  will  work 
by  them,  who  shall  disannul  his  design  ?  O 
may  we  cry  to  him,  cleave  to  him,  and  live 
by  faith  on  him  !  for  "  not  by  might,  nor 
by  power,"  not  by  eloquence  of  composition, 
nor  by  interest  of  patrons,  "  but  by  my 
Spirit,  saith  the  Lord." 

Pray,  take  a  little  pains  with  my  Theron 
and  Aspasio ;  you  can  scarcely  imagine 
what  inquiries  are  made  after  it,  and  what 
a  demand  there  is  for  it,  even  before  pub- 
lication. It  makes  me  rejoice  with  tremb- 
ling. All-wise,  all-gracious  Jesus,  be  jea- 
lous for  thine  honour !  Let  me  not,  O  let 
me  not  cloud  its  brightness,  or  obstruct  its 
progress,  by  any  injudicious  touches  of  my 
pen. — I  now  feel  the  loss  of  our  valuable 
friend  Dr.  Doddridge,  to  whose  judgment 
I  ever  paid  the  highest  deference ;  but  since 
lie  is  gone,  and  we  can  have  no  more  of  his 
personal  counsels,  let  us  redouble  our  at- 
tention to  his  writings. 

I  expect  you  will  tell  me  my  manuscript  is 


very  prolix  ;  but  I  designedly  made  it  so, 
that  my  friends  might  judge  what  is  proper 
to  be  omitted.  It  is  easier,  you  know,  to 
expunge  than  to  compose :  I  -wish  they 
would  with  a  leaden  pencil  enclose  in  a 
parenthesis  what  they  would  have  dropt ; 
I  hope  to  retrench  one-fourth  of  the  copy. 
May  the  God  of  wisdom  direct,  and  the 
God  of  mercy  prosper,  all  our  undertakings! 
I  am  yours  very  sincerely,  &c. 


»  For  the  Rules  and  Orders  of  the  Truro  Sorietv, 
$LC  p.  719. 


LETTER  CXXXIV. 

Saturday  morning. 

Thanks  to  my  dear  friend  for  the  enter- 
tainment he  h,!s  given  me,  by  Ilanway's 
account  of  Nadir  Shah  ;*  an  illustrious  vil- 
lain indeed !  he  spread  firebrands,  arrows, 
and  death.  May  we  be  conformed  to  his 
image,  who  went  about  doing  good  ! 

If  you  have  Voltaire's  Life  of  Louis 
XIV.,  be  pleased  to  give  me  the  p.n-usal  of 
it  :  I  fancy,  his  reign  in  France  was  some- 
what like  the  Augustine  age  in  Rome. 
Periods  of  politeness  both !  but  what  are 
those  to  heaven  ?  the  world  where  dwei.l- 
ETU  righteousness  ;  consummate  righteous- 
ness and  everlasting  happiness  ?  Do  you  not 
long,  more  and  more,  for  those  courts  of 
the  living  God?  Do  you  not  love  him  more 
and  more,  who,  (after  he  had  overcome  the 
sharpness  of  death)  opened  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  to  all  believers  ? 

Warburton,  I  hear,  has  published  two 
volumes  of  sermons,  octavo  ;  in  which,  it 
seems,  he  has  decried  experimental  religion, 
disregarded  the  peculiarities  of  the  gospel, 
and  treated  the  operations  of  the  S(>irit  as 
mere  enthusiasm.  If  this  be  the  effect  of 
his  great  learning,  then,  good  Lord,  deliver 
us  all,  say  I,  from  such  an  attainment.  If 
you  either  have,  or  can  borrow  them,  just 
let  me  peep  on  them.  Do  not  buy  thein 
to  gratify  nie  ;  I  can  relish  nothing  but 
what  is  evangelical. 

Your  friend's  Dissertations  were  put  into 
my  hands  ;  very  pure  diction,  but  that  is  all 
— all  to  me  at  least.  There  was  the  bone,, 
but  the  marrow  was  gone  ;  Jesus  Christ, 
my  portion  and  yours,  was  forgot.  How 
different  his  strain  from  St.  Paul's  resolu- 
tion, "  I  am  determined  to  know  nothing 
but  Christ  Jesus,  and  him  crucified,"  which 
happened  to  be  the  subject  of  my  exhorta- 
I  tion  to  my  family  last  night.  Lord,  reveal 
'  thy  adorable  Son,  the  all-sufficient  Saviour, 
in  bur  hearts  ;  and  the  more  others  neglect 
him,  so  much  the  more  let  us,  my  dear 
friend,  be  zealous  to  honour  him. 

1  have  looked  into  the  manuscript  you 
sent  me  :  there  seem  to  be  many  lively  and 

.  *  Soc  (lanway's  Travels,  voi.  ii.  page2.V>. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


859 


spirited  sentiments  in  it,  but  surely  it  is  de- 
fective in  the  main  j)oint.  St.  Paul,  1  am 
apt  to  think,  upon  a  perusal  of  the  tveatise, 
would  say,  the  author  has  good  sense,  may 
be  no  bad  moralist,  but  being  "  ignorant  of 
God's  righteousness,  and  going  about  to 
establish  his  own  righteousness,  he  has  uot 
submitted  to  the  righteousness  of  God," 
lUim.  X.  3.  Lord,  give  us  an  understand- 
ing, that  v,c  may  know  him  that  is  true  ! 
'I'hen  we  shall  see  Christ  Jesus,  the  God- 
man,  to  be,  in  the  grand  aflair  of  salvation, 
like  the  meridian  sun  ;  and  all  other  things 
like  the  stars  at  noon-day. 

Did  you  ever  read  Mr.  Whalley's  Re- 
marks upon  Shaksi)eare  ?  If  you  have  not, 
1  will  send  you  tlie  pam])hlet.  They  are 
very  ingenious,  and  well  deserve  the  notice 
of  the  public ;  particularly  of  yours,  who 
are  such  an  admirer  of  Shaksjjcare. 

Vt'hen  you  can  spare  Francis's  translation 
of  Demosthenes,  (I  suppose  it  is  the  same 
J'rancis  who  translated  Horace,)  favour  me 
with  a  sight  of  it.  A  sight  of  this  v>-ill 
content  me ;  but  God's  word,  that  inesti- 
mable book,  which  shows  me  the  way  of 
salvation,  1  would  cleave  to,  1  would  dwell 
upon.  And  would  not  you,  my  dear 
iriend,  do  so  too  ?      Ev  ruTci;  itPi. 

IVIy  text  oil  Wednesday  evening  will  be 
a  complete  description  of  a  Christian ;  viz. 
"  We  are  the  circumcision  which  wor^hi]) 
God  in  the  spirit,  and  rejoice  in  (jhrist  Je- 
sus, and  have  no  confidence  in  the  Hesh,' 
Phil.  iii.  o.  A  fine  subject  for  your  medi- 
tation :  Why  should  I  not  add  for  your 
conversation  also  ?     Ever  yours. 


Risliojj's  (very  improperly  called  sermons) 
as  guides  to  heaven,  and  as  good  comforters 
while  on  earth,  will  one  day  1  hojje  form  a 
bettei  judgment,  and  be  enabled,  in  a  clear- 
er manner,  to  discern  the  things  which  use 
excellent. 

On  Dr.  Stonehouse's  recommendation, 
I  have  lately  read  Dr.  AVatls'  treatise  on 
"  the  love  of  (iod,  and  its  inliuence  on  all 
the  passions;"  which  is  indeed  a  most  ex- 
cellent book,  happily  calculated  for  useful- 
ness. If  you  have  never  seen  it,  you  have 
a  j)leasure  yet  to  come,  and  I  would  by  all 
means  advise  you  to  get  it.  The  love  of 
(lod  is  indeed  the  source  and  soul  of  reli- 
gion ;  and  what  can  produce  it,  what  can 
cherish  it,  but  a  sense  of  God's  love  to  us 
manifested  in  his  dear  Son  ?  by  whom  we 
are  fully  assured,  that  he  has  forgiven  us  all 
trespasses,  an  1  will  give  us  life  eternal. 

Present  my  affeclionate  compliments  to 
your  family,  and  believe  me,  as  I  really  am, 
most  cordially  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXXV. 

Dear  Sir, — I  here  send  you  part  of  my 
manuscript  copy  of  Theron  and  Aspasio  : 
if  you  think  it  worth  your  while  to  bestow 
any  corrections  upon  them,  well ;  if  not, 
this  also  is  well.  I'or  my  own  part,  so 
very  languid  are  my  animal  spirits,  I  am 
more  and  mure  indiirerent  about  them  ;  I 
see  so  much  weakness  in  my  mind,  and  so 
many  imperfections  in  my  compositions, 
that  I  am  afraid  to  venture  u[)on  the  stage 
of  observation  again.  An  obliging  Utter 
from  Mr.  H r,  informs  me  of  his  wil- 
lingness to  j)eruse  and  correct  any  literary 
attempt  of  mine  ;  and  discovers,  I  think, 
still  more  the  integrity,  simplicity,  and 
»)iety  of  his  heart. 

I  prefer  both  South's  and  Delaunc's 
sermons  to  the  IHshoji's,  for  soundness  of 
doctrine.  The  first  might  be  crabbed  in 
his  temper,  and  the  second  voluptuous  in 
liis  life  ;  yet  both  arc  more  evangelical  in 
their  sentiments  than  he  is.  Those  who 
ca.M  read  such  kind  of  moral  essavs  as  the 


LETTER  CXXXVL 

Weston,  Jan.  25,  1755. 
Dear  Sir, — I  really  forget  whether  I 
acknowledged  your  last  favour.  If  I  did 
not,  let  your  own  candour  be  my  advocate  ; 
and  my  imj)ortaiit  business,  under  the  most 
enervated  constUution,  be  my  i)!ea.  I  have 
been,  smce  I  \\rote,  in  the  physician's 
hands,  and  debarred  from  the  pulpit- 
Blessed  l;c  the  Lord  our  healer,  I  am  now 
restored  to  my  usual  state,  and  am  enabled 
to  s])eak  a  word  on  the  Lord's  day,  and 
preach  in  my  church  on  Wednesday  even- 
ing, which  is  my  lecture  day,  for  the  hon- 
ou;-  of  my  Master,  and,  I  hope,  for  the  edi- 
fication of  his  peoi>le.  O  that  this  jirivi- 
Icge  may  be  coeval  with  my  life  ;  and  my 
l)reaching  A'oice,  and  my  vital  breath,  be 
stopt  together ! — I  wish  30U,  dear  sir, 
many  new  years,  much  of  the  new  man, 
and  an  abundant  entrance  into  the  New 
Jerusalem.  Your  most  obliged,  and  truly 
afl'ectionate  friend. 


LETTER  CXXXVIL 

i  March  4. 

j  My  dear  Friend, — Do  not  hurry  the 
return  of  the  Dialogues.  Take  your  time, 
that  you  may  examine  them  thoroughly  : 
none  knows  how  far  they  may  spread,  or 
how  long  they  may  live.  Oh  that  the  God 
of  wisdom  may  enable  you  to  judge  aright, 
and  concrt  their  mi.itakes  ! 

I  am  sorry  to  hear  vour  accouat  of  oar 


860 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


ij-iend  at .      I  wish  he   could  be  per- 1  not  attempt  to  make  myself  fully  master  of 

suaded  to  look  upon  his  mystic  writers  as   the    controversy.       To   know    Christ   and 


his  chamber-counsel ;  converse  with  them 
in  his  study,  and  leave  them  there.  I  was 
visited  yesterday  by  a  gentleman  who  would 

be  a  darling  with   Mr.  H ;  quite  fond 

of  mystics,  but  does  not  go  any  great 
lengths  ;  nor  espouse,  at  least  not  avow  or 
propagate,   their   extravagant   peculiarities. 

Your  old  acquaintance  Mr.  came  in, 

and  sat  with  us,  I  believe,  two  hours.  The 
gentlemen  happened  to  refer  to  Isaiah  vi. 
and  desired  I  would  read  the  beginning  of 
the  chapter  :  glad  of  this  overture,  I  readi- 
ly embraced  it,  and  fixed  the  discourse  to 
this  noble,  this  alarming  and  comfortable 
Scripture.  Oh  !  let  us  attend,  with  assi- 
duity and  delight,  to  the  holy,  precious 
word  of  God :  the  apostle  calls  it  a'^oXm 
yaXa,  pure,  immixed,  unadulterated,  as 
though  every  composition  had  some  im- 
proper tincture,  was  some  way  or  other 
adulterated.  "  ]\Iy  son,"  says  the  God  of 
heaven,  (and  it  is  a  most  important  advice, 
a  most  endearing  exhortation,)  "  attend  to 
my  words,  inclnie  thine  ear  unto  my  sayings. 
L»et  them  not  depart  from  thine  eyes,  keep 
them  in  the  midst  of  thine  heart.  For 
they  are  life  unto  those  that  find  them,  and 
health  to  all  their  flesh." 

As  to  Eph.  iv.  16.  does  not  irtva^^oXoya. 
fcivov  refer  to  the  orderly  and  exact  arrange- 
ment ?  trvfiSiSiclofjuvnv  to  the  nice  and  strong 
connexions  ;    but   where  is   the   beauty   or 

propriety    of    wa-jjj    u(fyi;     -rr,;     l-ri^npnyiUil 

Why,  "  that  which  every  joint  supplieth  ?" 
Is  there  any  peculiar  fund  of  nutriment 
lodged  in  the  joints?  Would  not  an  ana- 
tomist have  said,  by  that  which  every  vessel, 
or  every  ramification  of  a  vessel,  supplieth  ? 

I  sincerely  pity  poor  's  case  ;    I  will 

give  him  two  guineas  ;  and  hope  the  God 
whom  he  serves  will  raise  him  up  other 
friends  :  "  He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son, 
l)(it  gave  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he 
not  with  him  also  freely  give  him  all 
things  ?"  Tell  him  this  from  me,  though  he 
knows  it  already  ;  the  Lord  may  make  it  a 
word  in  season.  Charge  him  to  say  no- 
thing of  me  and  my  mite,  but  as  much  for 
me  to  his  God  and  Saviour  as  he  pleases. 
I  hope  you  will,  when   opportunity  serves, 

strengthen  Mr.  H in  the  faith  of  the 

gospel,  and  in  the  ways  of  the  Lord.  Let 
us  provoke  one  another  to  love  and  to  good 
works  ;  and  so  much  the  more  as  we  see 

the  day  approaching.      Yesterday  ]\Ir.  . 

of  Cambridge  called  upon  me  -.  our  conver- 
sation was  not  so  edifying  as  I  could  wish ; 

it   degenerated   into    dispute.      Mr.    , 

who  is  very  much  talked  of,  was  the  snb- 
ject.  I  do  not  thoroughly  know  his  scheme, 
but  am  inclined  to  suspect  that  his  op- 
ponents will  find  it  a  difficult  matter  to 
maintain  their  ground.      However,   I  shall 


him  crucified,  hoc  nobis  palnmrium.      This  is 
the  desire  and  prayer  of,  ever  yours,  &c. 

P-  S. — The  Latin  prayer  you  sent  me 
for  my  opinion,  seems  to  be  composed  by  a 
mystic.  Not  a  word  of  Christ !  Access 
through  his  blood  is  neglected  ;  acceptance 
through  his  righteousness  is  forgotten ! 
The  grand  error  of  the  mystic  divines,  who, 
wholly  intent  upon  what  God  is  to  do  in  us, 
most  unhappily  disregard  what  he  has  done 
for  us,  in  the  person  of  his  beloved  Son. 


LETTER  CXXXVIIL 

Weston- Fav ell,  March  19,  1755. 

My  dear  Friend, — A  good  while  ago 
I  received  your  kind  letter,  and  this  week 
your  valuable  parcel.  I  confess  myself 
obliged  to  your  candour,  as  well  as  to  your 
judgment,  for  excusing  me,  though  I  have 
not  absolutely  acquiesced  in  all  your  re- 
marks ;  as  well  as  for  giving  me  many  ex- 
cellent corrections,  which  I  have  most 
thankfully  adopted.  I  hope  what  I  have 
written  concerning  faith,  will  occasion  some 
calm  and  friendly  debates  ;  I  want  to  have 
that  subject  sifted,  cleared,  and  stated.  I 
must  own,  I  am  strongly  inclined  to  side 
with  our  reformers;  I  cannot  but  think 
they  adhere  to  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel. 
Christ  died  for  me,  seems  to  be  the  faith 
preached  and   taught  by   the  apostles.      I 

have  not  had  time  to  peruse  Mr.  ,  nor 

your  manuscripts  :  you  can  hardly  imagine 
how  my  time  is  engrossed,  and  my  weak 
spirits  almost  overborne,  partly  by  revising 
the  work  for  a  new  edition,  which  is  put  to 
the  press ;  partly  by  answering  a  variety 
of  letters,  sent  to  me  on  occasion  of  the 
publication  ;  some  of  which  censure,  some 
approve  of  the  performance. 

I  have  read,  with  great  pleasure,  your 
short  chronicle  ;  have  sent  it  to  Mr.  Moses 
Browne,  and  received  it  again  :  hope  you 
can  spare  it  till  I  peruse  it  a  second  time. 

I  have  lately  been  presented  with  a  mag- 
nificent and  costly  Hebrew  Bible,  in  four 
volumes  folio,  published  by  Father  Houbi- 
gant,  with  which  he  has  intermixed  the  apo- 
cryphal Greek  books,  styled  by  him  Deu- 
tero-ravonici.  Have  you  seen  this  work,  or 
heard  its  character?  The  author  has  sub- 
joined notes  to  each  chapter,  which  are  em- 
ployed chiefly  in  vindicatirig  his  alterations 
of  the  text.  He  is  a  bold  enterprising 
writer,  takes  great  liberties  with  the  sacred 
text,  and  makes  very  many  alterations,  often 
without  the  authority  of  any  manuscript, 
purely  from  his  own  critical  judgment,  or 
critical  conjecture.  If  at  any  time  you  have 
a  mind  to  know  his  opinion  upon  any  difli- 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


861 


cult  text,  I  will  either  traiiscrilie  it  in  his 
own  words,  or  give  you  the  subbiiuiee  of  it 
in  English. 

His  interpretation  of  Gen.  xxii.  14,  puts 
me  in  mind  of  an  expression  in  your  short 
chronicle.  "  It  is  my  opinion,  Abmham 
had  never  so  clear  a  sight  of  the  day  of 
Christ  as  at  this  time."  I  fancy  you  will 
not  he  displeased  with  a  copy  of  the  learned 
Jesuit's  criticism.  "  Vocavit  nomen  luci 
ejus  '  ii;uE  IRAT,'  Doniinus  videbitur. 
Non  videtur  ne  ab  futuro  '  cah,'  abeire- 
mus.  Non  videbit,  non  modo  quia  non 
additur  quid  fit  Dens  visurus,  sed  etiam 
quia  in  tota  ilia  visione,  hominis  est  videre, 
l)omini  videri  ;  propter  quam  caiisam  Deus 
locum  istmn  mox  nomine  visionis  insignie- 
hat.  Nimirum  Deus  Abrahanio  id  osten- 
dit,  quod  Abraham  vidit  et  gavisus  est,  seu 
Filiuui  promissionis  unigenituni  pro  huniano 
genera  victiniam  ohm  futuram.  Atque  hoc 
illud  est,  quod  memoriai  seinpiternse  Abra- 
ham consecrabat,  cum  ita  suhjinigeret,  Ho- 
die  in  monte  Dominus  videbitur;  illud  ho- 
die  sic  accipiens,  ut  accepit  Paulus  apostolus 
illid  Davidis,  Hodie  si  vocein  ejus  audieri- 
tis  ;  quod  hod.e  tamdiu  (hirat,  quaindiu 
specula  ilia  durabuut,  de  quibus  apostolus, 
donee  hodie  cognomiiiatur.  Errant,  qui 
sic  interpretantur,  quasi  Aloses  renariet 
usurpatum  suo  tempore  proverbium.  Nam 
si  sic  erit,  non  jam  docebit  Abraham,  cur 
huic  loco  nomen  fecerit,  Dominus  videbitur  ; 
quam  tamen  nominum  notatioiiem  in  sacris 
paginis  non  omittunt  ii,  quicuinque  nomina 
rebus  imponunt.  Quod  contra  plane  doce- 
bit, Abraham,  si  de  eo  Moses  sic  narrat, 
vocavit  nomen  loci  hujus,  Deus  videbitur  ; 
nam  dixit.  In  monte  Deus  videbitur."  This 
is  a  truly  grand  and  delightful  sense  ;  would 
bid  fair  for  preference,  if  it  could  be  suffi- 
ciently established.  But,  besides  other 
things  which  might  be  objected  to  this  in- 
terpretation, it  seems  probable  that  the 
Lord  did  not  appear  to  Abraham,  only  call- 
ed to  him  "  UKEDA."  Christ  says  of  Ab- 
raham, that  he  saw,  not  his  person,  but  his 
day  ;  >if/,i^x  signifies,  I  suppose,  much  the 
same  "  iueritt  ruru,"  the  remarkables,  to. 
tTKTyiiua,  in  any  one's  life.  He  saw  by  faith 
his  incarnation,  obedience,  death,  all  satis- 
fying atonement,  &c.  Is  not  this  the  mean- 
ing of  our  Lord  ? 

Now  I  am  upon  the  subject  of  difficult 
texts  and  exact  interpretations,  let  me  desire 
your  opinion  of  Isa.  xxx.  18.  I  have  ge- 
nerally looked  upon  it  as  a  declaration  and 
a  display  of  (iod's  infinitely  free  grace,  and 
profusely  rich  goodness.  The  great  Vi- 
tringa  considers  it  in  quite  a  different  light. 
"  Moram  trahet  '  ihf.bi;,'  Jehovah  (are  his 
words)  in  gratia  vobis  facienda."  For 
which  sense  he  adds  the  following  reason  ; 
"quia  delicti  gravitas  repentinam  gratiam 
non  fercbat,  secundum  rationes  justitiie  di- 


vinae."  The  next  clause  he  thus  ex]nains  ; 
Proptera,  "irum,"  t.  e.  exaltabitur  judici  et 
justitia,  antequam  gratiam  in  vos  exerceat. 
— Houbigant,  on  this  verse,  does  nothing 
more  than  offer  a  small  alteration,  for  "  ire- 
kim"  he  would  read  "  i&v.7.m"  prantolabi- 
tur,  that  this  verb  may  correspond  with  the 
preceding  "  iekeh." 

I  proposed  to  have  closed  the  plan  of 
Theron  and  Aspasio  with  an  explicit  and 
pretty  copious  treatise  on  evangelical  holi- 
ness, or  obedience  ;  and  to  have  shown  my 
true  believer  in  his  dymg  moments.  If 
your  thoughts  should  happen  to  take  such  a 
turn,  be  so  good,  dear  sir,  as  to  suggest 
what  you  thuik  the  most  advisable  and  ad- 
vantageous way  of  managing  this  important 
point.  This  would  most  effectually  stop 
the  mouths  of  Arminians,  and  be  the  best 
security  against  the  abuses  of  Antinomiaiis. 
I  could  wish,  if  it  were  the  Lord's  will,  that 
I  might  live  to  furnish  out  one  more  volume 
of  this  kind,  and  then,  manum  de  tabula. 

As  the  new  edition  is  partly  finished,  and 
the  press  proceeding  at  a  great  rate,  and  an 
there  will  be  some  few  emendations,  you 
will  give  me  leave  to  present  you  with  a 
set  of  what,  I  hope,  will  be  least  imperfect. 
Till  this  edition  is  finished,  let  me  be  your 
debtor  in  point  of  promise  ;  and  in  point  ol 
affection  and  gratitude,  1  will  be  your  debtor 
so  long  as  I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  CXXXIX. 

3Iai/  21,  1755. 

Dear  Sir, — My  letters  to  you  must  al- 
ways begin  with  thanks,  and  will  generally 
close  with  inquiiies. 

I  am  quite  a  proselyte  to  your  guarded 
and  sober  method  of  using  the  Hebrew 
manuscript :  though  1  talked  some  time 
ago  with  an  adept  in  the  sacred  language, 
and  most  devout  student  of  God's  word, 
who  would  not  so  much  as  hear  of  altera- 
tions, fi'om  any  authority,  or  on  any  ac- 
count whatever ;  corrections  in  an  inspired 
book,  were  to  him  little  better  than  sacri- 
lege. The  present  copy  of  the  Bible,  he 
apprehended,  was  in  no  degree,  not  even 
a  single  jot  or  tittle,  wroi;g.  I  subscribe 
your  reasons  for  rejecting  Father  Houbi- 
gant's,  and  in  not  admitting  Mr  Keiiniiott's 
exposition  of  the  Hebiew  adagy,  "  itiiuk 

IRAK." 

1  shall  treasure  up  your  remark  on  the 
relative  "asiier,'  and  wish  yon  had  the 
designing  or  the  sujierinlendiiig  of  the  cuts, 
which  the  printer  of  Mr.  iStackliouse's  His- 
tory of  the  Bible  sr.ys,  cost  eight  hundred 
pounds.  I  am  delighted  with  your  inter- 
pretation of  Isaiah  XXX.  18.  What  a 
charming  represejitation   it  gives  us  of  tho 


jS62 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


Divine  long-suffering,  tender  mere}',  and 
profuse  goodness  !  O  that  I  might  live 
under  the  clear  manifestation  of  these  lovely 
perfections ! 

In  Psalm  xxxvi.  1.  Houbigant  would 
read  "lebu,"  instead  of  "  lebi,"  and  thus 
translates  the  clause,  "  Loquitur  impitis 
juKta;  improbitatem  duae  est  in  medio 
cordis  ejus." 

Instead  of  "  7AUV,"  Psalm  cxxxiii.  3,  he 
would  introduce  "  shiau,"  and  justifies  his 
alteration  from  Deut.  iv.  48.  Did  you 
ever  observe  this  passage,  and  compare  it 
with  the  text  under  consideration? 

Psalm  Ixviii.  16.  for  "  ersheni"  be  would 
substitute  "  eredshu,"  "mons  pinguis  ;" 
which  alteration  he  thus  explains,  and  thus 
vindicates :  "  Est  mons  Dei,  mons  Sion, 
jn  quem  asportatur  area  foederis  ;  qui  mons, 
collatione  facta  cum  cieteris  montibus, 
quorum  laus  est  pinguedo  sive  ubertas, 
laudatur  ob  ejus  pinguedinum ;  ex  quo, 
videlicet,  tempore  eum  montem  habitat  ille, 
qui  pinguem  fecit  domum  Obed-edom. 
5lons  altitudinuin,  altero  in  memb?o,  est 
attributum  montus  Sion,  cfeteris  circum 
montibus  altioris.  Itaque  mons  Basan 
nihil  hie  ad  lein  ;  prsesertim  cam  de  monte 
.Sion  ea  hoc  in  psaimo  dicantur,  propter 
qute  ille  mons  sit  monti  Sion  longe  ante- 
ponendus.  Gen.  xx.  16,  Ego  dedi  fratri 
tuo  argenti  mille  pondo,  erit  id  tibi  pro  vel- 
aminibus  oculorum,  sen  tui  tibi  aderunt, 
seu  cseteri  quicunque  homines,  ne  forte  te 
concupiscant.  '  UGEBirniETH,'  verbum  pro 
verbo,  nam  concupi«cilibus  es  ob  tuam 
pulchritudinem  ;  ex  '  necet,'  Arabic,  ver- 
bo, ducere  uxorem  vel  ejus  matrimonium 
ambire."  Do  not  you  think  this  method  of 
deducing  the  sense  of  Hebrew  words  from 
the  present  Arabic  is  precarious?  If  we 
knew  the  precise  signiScalion  which  Arabic 
Vvords  bore  in  the  days  of  Moses,  and  what 
words  were  commonly  used  in  that  early 
age,  there  would  be  surer  ground  to  proceed 
upon.  But  I  apprehend  the  Arabic  lan- 
guage has  undergone  great  alterations,  and 
received  great  improvements,  since  th:it 
period ;  that  Golius's  Lexicon  is  no  more 
the  Arabic  used  in  the  time  of  Moses,  than 
John>^on's  Dictionary  is  the  English  spoke 
in  the  da}s  of  Chaucer. 

My  best  shanks  for  your  plan.  I  propose 
to  follow  the  track  of  Mr.  Marshall  in  his 
book  entiiltd  "  The  Gospel  Mysteiy  of 
Sanctification."  You  are  acquainted,  I 
presume,  with  this  valujil'le  piece  of  spiritual 
and  experimcntr-1  divinity  ;  Tins,  and  Mr. 
Erskine's  sermons,  led  me  into  those  no- 
tions of  faith  which  are  delivered  in  Dia- 
logue xvi.  If  you  have  that  treatise,  (IMar- 
shall's  I  mean),  1  should  be  much  obliged 
for  your  opinion  of  it.  You  a^k  how  Hou- 
bi^'ant  reads  Gen.  xi.  .32.  Thus,  "  Fcrunt- 
qni  dies  Thure  annoruin  quadraginta  quin- 


que  supra  centum."     This,  he  say3,  is  ac- 
cording to  the  Samaritan  copy  ;  and  adds  ; 
"  Cui    scriptioni    adhjerendnm    ease,    r^otaS 
Sam.  Bochartus  ;    aliter  enim  mm  Hebrteo' 
cod.  pugnantia  dictnrum    Stephanum   dia- 
eonum.  Acts  vii.   4.     Qfjod   sic  probatur : 
diciim  fuit,  ver.  5d6.     Thare  fuisse  annorum 
70,  cum  gignerer  Ahrahamum  -.  Infra  dice- 
tur,  (cap.   xii.   ver.   4.)    Ahrahamum  fuisse 
annorum    73,    cam    ex    Haran    in    Canaan 
profcctus  est.     Ex  quo  efficitur  lit   Thare, 
tempore   illius  profectionis,   annum    ageret 
14.5,  atque  adeo  ut  Thare,  si  quidem  vixerit 
annos  '205,  fuerit  totos  annos  (JO  huic  pro- 
fectioni  superstes.     Quae  cum  ita  sint,  noiv 
jam    inteliigitur,   quare    Ste))hanus   dixeret 
Ahrahamum  fuisse,  mortoo  jam  Thare,  m- 
Canaan  profectum.     Aut  fallitur  Stephanus,. 
ant  statuenilum  cum  Sam,  codiee,  non  plus 
vixisse  Thare,  quam  annos  145.     Nam  per 
earn  numerum,  libri  Genesis  cum  Stephano- 
discordia  eonciliatur — Erroris  fontem  ape- 
ruit    Bochartus,    in    litera    '  K.'     100,    pi^o 
'  m'  40,   exarata.       Erroris   fons  eo  mani- 
festior,  quod  in  codieibus  Germanicis  litera 
'  K.'    pede    hoc  nx)do   decurtato,  '  e'    fere 
similis  est  literre  '  M.'  ' 

His  marginal   reading  of  Exod.  xii.  40. 
is  thus  : — According  to  the  Samaritan  text, 

"  ISHRAEL  liENI  I'SIISUN  METZRIM  INARO 
CEXOI      GARO      ISHEir      A.SIlEa      UANUTHM." 

While  he  thus  translates  (for  his  Hebrew 
text  is  conformed  to  the  common  standard, 
and  only  in  the  translation  his  corrections 
are  introduced),  "  Commoratio  autem  fili- 
orum  Israel,  et  patrum  eorum  qui  in  terra 
Canaan  et  in  tena  /Egypti  habitarunt  fuit," 
&c.  In  his  note  oi\  this  passage,  he  refers 
the  reader  to  his  prolegomena;  where,  after 
he  has  proved  that,  by  admitting  the  Sa- 
mantan  reading,  diBiculties,  otherwise  inex- 
tricable, are  cleared  up  and  removed,  he 
takes  to  task  Grotius,  Le  Clere,  and  Bux- 
torf.  You  will  perhaps  be  willing  to  see 
his  manner,  which  on  many  occasions  i* 
like  the  scclcrata  sinapis,  sharp  as  mustard. 
"  Non  incommode,  inquiebat,  Grotius,  sic 
explicatur  :  Exilium  illud  ^Egyptiacum  du- 
rasse  usque  ad  armum  430,  ex  quo  Deus 
Abrahamo  priesignificaverat.  In  qua  Gio- 
tiana  explicatione  Grotium  desidero.  Nuny 
exilium  erat  Egyptiacum,  turn  cum  Deus 
Abrahamo  prajsignificabat  ?  Vel  cui  per- 
suadebat  Grotius,  Mosen  hsec  verba,  ex  quo 
Deus  Abrahamo  priesignificaverat,  cum. 
dicere  relief,  omisisse?  Quie  verba  cunj 
suo  marte  Grotius  ;  et  sacra  pagina  invita, 
inferciat,  num  hux  potius  credemus,  ut  ea 
verba  omiserit  Moses,  sine  quibus  intelligi 
non  posset,  imo  secam  ipse  pugnaret,  quam 
Samaritanis,  quorum  diligentia  commone- 
mur  Judteos  scribas  fuisse  negligentes  ? 
Sed  audiendus  Joannes  Clericus.  Maiiro, 
inquit,  cocu^nXoyiav  in  Masoretico  codiee  ag- 
noscere,  quam  mendam.     Vigilas,  Clerice, 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


863 


cum  haec  loqiie-is  ?  Negas  Helsr.  in  vol- 
umiiie  esse  inendam,  hoc  est,  errorem  a 
scribis  Juda^is  profectnim  ;  eo  potius  incli- 
iias,  ut  sit  anu^oXiytcr,  hoc  est,  Mosis  ipsius 
in  temporibtis  notandis  im'iligentiii  ?  Eg- 
regiam  profecto  indiligentiam,  ut  Moses 
scripserit  annos  4-')i),  ciim  sci  ibfre  (icbuissot 
aniios  215,  eo  pr-cTsertiin  loco,  in  quo  tem- 
pera tarn  diligeriter  notat  Moses,  ut  nou 
inodo  aiinos  computet,  sed  ipsum  etiam 
poiiat  aniii  mensem,  mensisque  ipsum  diem. 
Quid  Buxtoifium  dicemus,  nou  modo,  ut 
fspteri  interpretf's  bic  tergiversaiitem,  sed 
etiam  plane  negutitem,  fuisse  hie  quidquam 
a  Judieis  scribis  omissum  ?  Heus  tu, 
Buxtorfi  !  lllainne  fuisse  Tylosis  scriptionem 
putas,  qua  Moses  Mosi  contradicat,  et  aperte 
meiitiri  videatur  ?  Videatur  sane,  inquit ; 
sed  nihil  quidquam  amplius  Mosert  scrip- 
sisse  mihi  quidem  constat.  Quonam  igitur 
pacto,  Buxtorfi,  Mosen  cum  Alose  concili- 
abis  ?  Non  conciiiabo,  inquit,  si  non  po- 
tero,  sed  veto  in  hodierno  cod.  Heb.  quid- 
quam addi  et  suppleri.  Quid  ita?  Quia, 
inquit,  codices  Ileb.  omnes  hie  conseii- 
tiunt,  et  illud  additamentum  ignorat.  Quod 
si  autem  scribes  alicujus  lapsu,  vel  etiam 
plurium  excidisset,  non  potuisset  id  fieri  in 
omnibus  excmplaribus.  Sed  Buxtorfium 
nunc  linquimus,  Buxtorfianasq^ue  nugas, 
quoniam  ens  suraus  non  multo  post  confu- 
taturi."  I  intended  to  have  laid  before  you 
•a  speci'men  of  his  very  bold,  and,  I  fear, 
rash  attempts  upon  the  sacred  texts;  but 
these  I  must  defer  till  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  subscribing  myself  on  another  paper, 
your  most  obliged  and  truly  afft>ctionate 
iriend. 


LETTER  CXL. 

Dear  Sm, — Herewith  I  send  you  the 
new  edition  of  Theron  and  Aspasio.  It 
desires  your  acceptance  and  your  prayers, 
that  it  may  be  for  the  praise  of  the  glory 
of  God's  grace  in  Christ,  and  for  the  edifi- 
cation of  liis  people  in  faith  and  holiness. 

You  will  find  Dialogue  x\\.  somewhat 
altered,  and  rendered,  I  hope,  less  incor- 
rect than  in  the  former  editions.  It  con- 
tains the  genuine  sentiments  of  my  heart. 
But  if  they  recede  a  hair's  breadth  from  the 
unerring  standard,  if  they  differ  in  one  jot 
or  tittle  from  God's  holy  word,  in  that  jot 
or  tittle  I  most  earnestly  wish  the  world 
may  not  receive  them,  and  that  I  myself 
may  liave  grace  to  retract  them.  What  you 
meet  with  that  appears  contrary  to  the 
Xoyos  <-yir,i,  xKcPixyvus-o:,  freely  point  out. 
This  will  please,  this  will  profit ;  and  there- 
fore this  will  oblige,  dear  Sir,  your  affec- 
tionate friend,  &c. 


P.  S. — You  will  permit  me  to  keep  your 
maimscripts  a  little  longer  ;  one  of  them, 
the  Scriptural  Chronicle,  a  [)erson  is  tran- 
scribing. May  the  blessed  Jesus  transcribe 
his  word  and  his  image  on  our  heart. 


♦LETTER  CXLL 

My  poor  Fei.i.ow-.Sinners, — I  received 
a  letter  from  you,  and  should  have  visited 
you  ;  but  my  health  is  so  much  decayed, 
and  my  spirits  are  so  exceedingly  tender, 
that  I  could  not  well  bear  the  sight  of  your 
confinement,  your  chains,  and  your  miserable 
circumstances,  as  I  can  hardly  bear  the 
thoughts  of  your  approaching  execution,  and 
your  extreme  danger  of  everlasting  destruc- 
tion. But,  because  I  cannot  come  in  person, 
I  have  sent  you  the  following  lines,  which  I 
ho])e  you  will  consider,  and  which  I  be- 
seech the  God  of  all  grace  to  accompany 
with  his  blessing. 

You  have  been  already  condemned  at  an 
earthly  tribunal ;  you  are  also  condemned 
by  the  law  of  God,  for  thus  it  is  written, 
"  Cursed  is  every  one  that  continueth  not 
in  all  things  that  are  written  in  the  book  of 
the  law  to  do  them,"  Gal.  iii.  10.  If  every 
violation  of  the  divine  law  exposes  you  to 
a  curse,  what  a  multitude  of  curses  are 
ready  to  fall  upon  your  unhappy  souls  ! 
And  i-cmember  this  is  not  the  curse  of  a 
mortal  man,  but  of  the  great,  eternal,  in- 
finite God.  If  it  was  dismal  to  hear  an 
earthly  judge  command  you  to  be  hanged 
by  the  neck  till  you  are  dead,  how  much 
more  terrible  to  hear  the  Almighty  Judge 
denounce  that  unalterable  sentence,  "  De- 
part from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting 
fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels  !" 
Matt.  XXV.  4.1.  Had  you  committed  but 
one  sin,  this  would  have  been  your  deserved 
doom  :  "  The  wages  of  sin,"  of  every  sin, 
"  is  death,"  Rom.  vi.  23,  How  much  more 
of  those  manifold  sinS  and  multiplied  trans- 
gressions of  which  your  consciences  must 
accuse  you.  You  are  soon  to  suffer  the 
punishment  of  the  gallows,  and  you  are 
liable  to  the  vengeance  of  the  most  high 
God  ;  for  thus  saiih  the  holy  word,  "  The 
wrath  of  God  is  revealed  from  heaven  against 
all  ungodliness  and  uniighteou-ness  of  men," 
Rom.  i.  18.  If  against  all  and  every  in- 
stance of  ungodliness,  ihen  how  much  more 
against  your  (rimes,  which  have  been  of  the 
most  abominable  and  horrid  kind  !  "  The 
wrath  of  God!"  Tremendous  word!  who 
knoweth    the    weight   and   terror   of    his 


•  This  letter  wns  wrote  f  om  Weston -F.lv ell  to  twi 
condemned  ni;ilcf;ictnrs  in  NorthfimjUon  (;aol,  (n.iiiip- 
ly, James  Smart  aniljaseiih  Browne),  abouttheimaJ.e 
of  July  17-VJ. 


fi64 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


wrath  ?  At  his  rebuke  the  rocks  melt  like 
wax,  the  earth  is  shaken  out  of  its  place, 
iind  the  pillars  of  heaven  tremble.  How 
then  can  you  endure  the  furioueness  of  his 
wrath,  and  the  severity  of  his  vengeance? 
and  that  not  for  a  day,  a  month,  or  a  year, 
but  through  all  the  ages  of  eternity  !  Yet 
this  is  the  doom  of  "  them  that  know  not 
God,  and  obey  not  the  gospel  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  They  shall  be  punished  with 
everlasting  destruction,  from  the  presence 
of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory  of  his 
power."  What  can  you  do  in  this  distress- 
ed condition?  What,  indeed!  If  you  had  a 
thousand  years  to  live,  you  could  not  atone 
for  one  offence.  How  then  can  you  make 
satisfaction  for  millions  of  provocations  in 
the  space  of  a  few  days  ?  Alas  I  you  are 
lost,  utterly  lost,  in  yourselves  irrecoverably 
ost.  May  the  God  of  all  power  make  you 
sensible  of  your  undone  state  !  sensible  that 
you  are  upon  the  brink,  the  very  brink  of 
an  amazing,  an  unfathomable  downfall.  Per- 
haps you  may  say.  Is  there  no  hope  then  ? 
is  the  door  of  heaven  shut,  and  without  any 
possibility  of  being  opened  to  us?  Must  we 
sink  into  unquenchable  burnings  ;  and  is 
there  not  so  much  as  a  twig  for  us  to  catch 
at  ?  Yes,  my  poor  fellow-sinners,  there  is 
not  only  a  twig,  but  a  tree,  even  the  tree  of 
hfe,  a  sure  support,  which  if  the  Lord  ena- 
bles you  to  lay  hold  on,  you  may  yet,  even 
yet,  be  saved.  Oh  !  beg  of  his  wonderful 
goodness  to  accompany  what  you  are  going 
to  read  with  his  Holy  Spirit. 

Christ,  the  all-glorious  Son  of  God, 
pitied  the  deplorable  case  of  such  sinners. 
He  not  only  pitied,  but  resolved  to  succour 
and  relieve  them.  For  this  purpose  became 
into  the  world,  and  wus  made  man-  Nay, 
more,  he  came  into  the  place,  and  stood  in 
the  stead  of  sinnel^.  I5ecause  we  had 
broke  the  commandments  of  the  law,  he  ful- 
filled them  in  all  their  perfection.  Because 
we  deserved  the  punishment  of  the  law,  he 
sustained  it  in  its  utmost  extremity.  He 
became  poor,  and  had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head,  though  heaven  and  earth  were  all  his 
own.  He  submitted  to  scorn  and  reproach, 
though  all  the  angels  of  God  are  Li(Jilen  to 
worship  him.  Nay,  he  was  condemned  to 
death,  the  most  shameful  and  tormenting 
death,  far  more  shameful,  and  unspeakably 
more  tormenting,  than  the  death  which  you 
must  shortly  undergo.  He  suffered  un- 
known pangs  in  his  body,  and  inconceivable 
anguish  in  his  soul,  from  the  indignation  of 
God.  In  a  word,  he  suffered  all  that  shame, 
all  that  torment,  all  that  vengeance,  which 
the  unnumbered  sins  of  the  whole  world 
deserved.  Here  then  is  your  door  of  hope. 
Sins  are  borne  by  Christ  ;  and  though  there 
be  much  inKnuty,  there  is  no  condemnation 
to  them  who  aie   in    Clirusc  Jesus,   Rom. 


viii.  1.  Wrath  is  borne  by  Christ,  so  that 
sinners,  who  deserve  eternal  vengeance,  are 
reconciled  to  God,  and  saved  from  wrath 
through  him,  Rom.  v.  9,  10.  A  righteou.-;- 
ness  is  wrought  by  Christ,  a  perfect  and 
everlasting  righteousness,  such  as  brings  in- 
comparably greater  honour  to  God's  law, 
than  all  our  transgressions  bring  disho- 
nour. By  all  this,  he  has  merited  and 
obtained  a  full  deliverance,  and  a  complete 
redemption.  Are  you  not  I'eady  to  cry  out, 
O  blessed  Saviour  !  O  precious  redemp- 
tion  !  What  a  happiness,  if  we  might  be 
interested  in  this  Saviour,  and  partake  of 
this  redemption  !  Millions  of  worlds  for 
such  a  blessing  !  You  need  not  give  mil- 
lions of  worlds,  no,  nor  any  individual  thing. 
These  blessings  are  given  freely,  without 
money,  and  without  price,  without  any  de- 
serving qualifications  in  us.  All  that  are 
justified,  are  justified  freely  through  the  re- 
demption that  is  in  Christ  Jesus.  But  we 
are  siimers,  vile  sinners  ;  we  have  not  on- 
ly nothing  good,  but  much  and  grievous 
guilt.  The  Lord  convince  you  of  this 
more  and  more  !  Yet  remember  for  whoi:i 
Christ  died  ;  "  he  died  for  the  ungodly." 
What  says  St.  Paul  ?  "  In  due  time  Christ 
died  for  the  ungodly,  Rom.  v.  6."  He  died 
for  the  unjust.  What  says  St.  Peter? 
"  Christ  hath  once  suffered  for  sins,  the 
just  for  the  unjust,"  1  Pet.  iii.  18.  What 
says  our  Lord  himself?  "  The  Soh  of  man 
is  come  to  save  that  which  was  lost."  Are 
you  not  ungodly  men?  Are  you  not  unjust 
persons?  Are  you  not  lost  creatures  ?  Foe 
such,  even  for  such,  the  divine  Jesus  died. 
Womleiful  love !  adorable  compassion ! 
The  Lord  enable  you  to  lay  hold  on  this 
hope  set  before  you  !  Perhaps  you  may  say. 
We  are  not  only  sinners,  but  the  chief  cf 
sinners.  O  that  you  were  convinced  of 
this  !  To  be  the  chief  of  sinners  makes  yoiv 
unpardonable  before  men  ;  but  this  is  no 
difficulty  with  Christ,  and  should  be  no 
hinderance  of  your  coming  to  Christ. 
Christ's  merit  and  righteousness  are  infinite. 
They  are  as  able  to  satisfy  for  a  debt  of  ten 
thousand  talents,  as  for  a  debt  of  a  single 
farthing.  Hear  what  the  Scriptures  suitli 
upon  this  subject :  -^  This  is  a  faithful  say- 
ing, and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that 
Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save 
sinners,  of  whom  I  am  chief,"  1  Tim.  i.  lo. 
He  came,  not  to  save  sinners  only,  but  the 
very  chief  of  sinners.  And  he  is  "  able  to 
save  them  to  the  very  uttermost."  But  our 
sins  are  heinous,  they  have  been  often  re- 
peated, and  long  continued  in.  What  says 
the  apostle  ?  "  1  he  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  from  all  sin."  Another  apostle  de- 
clares, "By  him,"  by  the  divinely  excellent 
Redeemer,  "all  that  believe  are  justified 
from  all  things  ;"  from  all   accusations,  be 


A    rOLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


ttiey  ever  so  numerous  ;  from  nil  iniquities, 
l)e  llipy  ever  so  enormous.  N;iy,  so  won- 
derfully efficacious  is  the  power  of  his  death, 
that,  throui^h  his  great  atonement,  sins 
which  areas  crimson,  are  made  wiiite,  white 
as  snow,  Isa.  i.  18.  But  will  Christ  vouch- 
safe his  p;reat  salvation  to  us  ?  Hear  his 
own  words,  "  Him  that  cometh  to  me" 
for  pardon  and  salvation,  "  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out."  Be  his  guilt  ever  so  great, 
this  shall  be  no  bar.  I  will  not  on  any  con- 
sideration reject  or  deny  his  suit. 


of  God  to  bless  ;  and  will  attend  von  wi 
my  prayers,  though    I  c;uniot  visit  you  in 
person. 


LETTER  CXLII. 


Weslnii-Favell,  Srpt.  10,  17.5.5. 
My  dear  FiuEND, —  You  may  justly 
wonder  that  I  have  not  acknowledged  the 
Only  let '  favour  of  your  last,  long  before  this,  '  Do 
him  come  as  a  poor  undone  creature,  and  he  j  me  the  justice  to  believe,  that  this  is  not 
shall  find  me  willing  and  mighty  to  save. !  owing  to  the  least  disesteein  of  your  cor- 
Nay,  he  invites  you  to  come.  'J'heseare  his  J  respondenee,  or  any  insensibility  of  your 
gracious  words,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  ,  kindness.  I  hope  mj- heart  is,  though  sadly 
that  labour,  and  are  heavy  laden,"  heavy  depraved,  yet  sincerely  grateful ;  and  I  am 
laden  with  sin  and  misery,  "  and  I  will  give  sure,  I  esteem  your  letters  as  treasures, 
you  rest,"  Matt.  xi.  28.  I  will  deliver  you  Though  I  destroy  almost  all  I  receive, 
from  going  down  into  the  pit ;  I  will  de-  every  one  of  yours  is  preserved.  Let  me, 
liver  you   from    the    vengeance  of  eternal   therefore,  earnestly  beg  that  you  will  not 


fire.  All  yoursiti  shall  be  upon  me,  and  all 
iny  righteousness  shall  be  upon  you.  Go 
to  a  great  man  on  earth,  beg  of  him  to  use 
his  interest  in  your  behalf;  he  would  scorn 
to  take  7iotice  of  you.  But  your  dear,  ten- 
der, compassionate,  most  condescending 
Saviour,  invites  you  to  come  to  him,  and 
assures  you  he  will  not  abhor  nor  cast  you 
out.  Go  to  your  earthly  judge,  entreat  him 
on  your  bended  knees  to  pardon  you  :  He 
perhaps  cannot,  must  not :  the  laws  forbid 
him.  But  it  is  not  so  with  Jesus  Christ: 
he  has  made  a  full  satisfaction  for  sin  ;  he 
has  made  an  infinite  atonement  for  sin  ; 
and  were  your  sins  ten  thousand  thousand 
times  greater  than  they  are,  before  the 
power  of  his  death  they  would  all  vanish 
away ;  by  the  washing  of  his  blood  they 
would  all  be  as  though  they  had  never 
been. 

This  then  should  be  the  one  desire  of 
your  souls,  your  incessant  prayer  to  God, 
that  you  may  come  to  Christ,  that  you  may 
l)elieve  in  Christ,  that  you  may  be  found  in 
Christ :  then  you  will  not  perish,  though 
you  deserve  it,  but  have  everlasting  life 
through  his  name  ;  then  you  will  have  just 
the  same  foundation  foryour  hope,  as  I  must 
myself  have  when  I  shall  depart  this  life. 
When  1  shall  be  summoned  to  the  great 
tribunal,  what  will  be  my  plea,  what  my  de- 
pendence ?  Nothing  but  Christ !  Christ, 
would  I  say,  has  been  wounded  for  my  sins, 
therefore  they  will  not  be  punished  in  me. 
Christ  has  fidlilled  all  righteousness  in  my 
stead,  therefore  I  trust  to  be  justified  when 
I  am  judged.  1  am  a  ])oor  unworthy  sin- 
ner ;  but  worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain,  worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain, 
for  whose  sake  I  shall  receive  both  jjiudou- 
ing  mercy,  and  everlasting  glory.  This  is 
my  only  hope,  and  this  is  as  free  for  you  as 
it  is  for  your  friend  and  fellow-sinner,  i<;p. 

P.S.  —  What  1  have  written,  1  shall  heg 


follow  my  example,  but  suffer  your  letters 
to  be  much  more  speedy  in  their  arrival 
than  mine.  You  would  more  easily  excuse 
me  if  you  knew  me.  The  grasshopper  is  a 
burden  to  me.  Every  blast  blows  me 
down,  or  my  eontuiual  indisposition  and 
inconceivable  languors  pierce  through  me. 
I  now  hang  a  swelled  face  over  my  paper  ; 
occasioned  only  by  taking  the  air  yesterday 
in  my  chair,  and  finding  a  sharper  atmos- 
phere than  for  many  weeks  I  had  been  ac- 
customed  to.  Pi-ny  for  me,  dear  sir,  that, 
established  in  Christ,  and  strong  in  his 
faith,  I  may  be  looking  for,  and  hasten  to 
the  coming  of  the  day  of  God  ;  when  this 
poor,  enervated,  crazy  body,  will  (to  the 
everlasting  glory  of  free  grace)  be  made 
like  unto  Christ's  glorious  body. 

I  live  with  my  mother  and  sister.  Our 
method  is,  every  morning  at  nine,  when  we 
breakfast,  to  read  a  verse  or  two  from  the 
Bible,  and  make  it  the  subject  of  our  con- 
versation. The  other  day,  we  were  reading 
in  Psalm  Ixxxiv.  4.  Immediately  a  doubt 
arose  in  my  mind,  how  the  fact,  which  is 
here  aflirmed,  could  possibly  happen. 
Could  the  sj)arrows  and  swallows  build 
their  nests,  lay  their  eggs,  and  hatch  their 
young,  on  God's  altar,  which  was  every 
morning  and  evening  statedly,  and  I  sup- 
pose many  other  times  iii  the  day  occasion- 
ally, surrounded  by  crowds  of  worshippers, 
on  which  the  sacred  fire  was  constantly 
burning,  arul  which  was  in  a  manner  co- 
vered with  flame  and  smoke,  whenever  the 
sacrifices  were  oflored.  Njw  to  have  birds 
lay  aside  all  their  fear  of  man,  their  greater 
dread  of  fire,  and  make  such  an  altar  their 
house,  is  strange,  is  scarce  credible,  and 
must,  if  true,  be  miraculous.  Consulting 
Houbigant,  I  find  he  was  sensible  of  the 
difficulty,  and  solves  it,  not  from  any  nm- 
nuscript,  but  from  his  own  iiivetition,  thus  : 
"  Nos  vero,  ne  orntio  trunca  inaneur,  sup- 
I>  k 


866  A   COLLECTION 

plemus  ante  haec  duo  verha,  YL^o  vcro 
quando  tandem,  tacito  vcrbo,  adero  iid, 
quod  solet  reticeri." 

1  have  met  with  other  bold  strokes  in 
this  commentator,  which  I  want  to  submit 
to  your  examination.  But  these  let  me 
postpone,  in  order  to  desire  your  opinion 
concerning  the  plan  of  my  new  work; 
which,  with  a  weak  hand  and  a  desponding 
heart,  I  have  sketched  out,  determined  to 
try,  (though  with  very  little  hope  of  being 
enaljled  to  execute),  resting  satisfied  in  this 
persuasion,  that  the  issue  of  things  is  in 
the  hand  of  the  Lord,  and  he  will  frustrate 
or  accomplish,  as  he  knows  to  be  most  ex- 
pedient. 

The  Plan  of  the  Supplement  to   Theron  atid 
Aspasio. 

Pleasure  and  happiness  of  Clirist's  re- 
ligion ;  (for  I  am  of  the  same  mind  with 
Mr.  Marshall  in  his  Treatise  on  Sanctifica- 
tion,  namely,  that  we  must  partake  of  the 
comforts  of  the  gospel,  before  we  can  prac- 
tise the  duties  of  the  law.)  Theron  op- 
pressed with  fears,  on  account  of  his  nume- 
rous sins.  Discouraged  with  doubts,  on 
account  of  his  imperfect  obedience.  The 
cordials  of  the  gospel  re-administeied,  with 
some  additional  spirit  and  strength.  Ob- 
jections to  assurance  of  faith,  stated,  dis- 
cussed, answered.  Vital  holiness  ;  its  na- 
ture, necessity,  excellency.  Its  grand  effi- 
cient, the  blessed  Spirit.  Its  principal  in- 
strument, true  faith  ;  mixed  with  which, 
the  Scriptures,  the  Lord's  supper,  pi'ayer, 
the  divine  promises,  are  powerful  and  effec- 
tual means  ;  disunited  from  which,  they 
areadead  letter  and  insignificant  ordinances. 
The  evangelical  princi])les  of  holiness,  such 
as,  "  I  beseech  you  by  the  mercies  of  God 
— Ye  are  bought  with  a  price — Ye  are  the 
tem])les  of  the  living  God,"  &c. ;  all  these 
privileges,  though  not  hereditary,  yet  inde- 
feasible ;  or  the  final  perseverance  of  the 
believer.  Our  friends  part ;  renew  their 
correspondence  ;  Theron  desires  to  glorify 
the  God  of  his  salvation,  asks  advice  con- 
cerning the  best  metliod  of  family  worship, 
educating  children,  instructing  servants, 
cdifyitig  acquaintance.  On  each  of  these 
particulars  Aspasio  satisfies  his  inquiiy, 
eidarges  on  the  subject  of  education,  c^pe- 
cially  of  daughters  ;  as  that  seems  to  I)e 
most  neglected,  or  the  jiroper  way  of  con- 
ducting it  least  understood.  Letter  on  the 
covenant  of  grace,  conqjrising  the  substance, 
and  being  a  kind  of  recapitulation  of  the 
three  foregoing  volumes.  Aspasio  seized 
with  a  sudden  and  fatal  illness;  his  senti- 
ments and  behaviour  in  his  last  moments. 

If,  dear  sir,  you  see  any  thing  in  this  plan 
that  is  improper,  correct  it ;  any  thing  that 
is  defective,  supply  it  ;  and  if  any  thoughts 
occur  on  any  of  the  topic;,  be  i^o  kind  as  to  j 


OF  LETTl' It>. 

suggest  them.  Pray  have  you  ever  seen  a 
book,  lately  presented  to  me,  and  entitled. 
The  Marrow  of  Modern  Divinity,  with 
notes  by  Mr.  Boston  ?  If  you  have  seen 
it,  you  will  not  ('iny  me  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  yoi;r  sentiments  concerning  it. 
Yesterdav  a  learned  minister  (a  stranger) 
called  upon  me,  and,  among  other  subjects, 
we  talked  of  that  remarkable  passage  in 
Isaiah,  "  She  hath  received  of  the  Lord's 
hand  double  for  all  her  sins."  What  do 
you  think  is  the  exact  meaning  of  the  pro- 
phet? "  Gekeliji"  is  a  peculiar  word. 
Houbigant  translates  the  clause,  "  Post- 
quam  pro  peccatis  suis  multis  dedit  Domino 
duplices  pcenas  ;"  and  supposes  the  two 
captivities,  Assyrian  and  Roman,  to  be  the 
double  punishment.  My  pious  visitant 
referred  it  to  the  satisfaction  made  by  Jesus 
Christ.  I  objected,  that  God,  not  the 
church,  received  this.  To  which  he  replied, 
That  the  church  receives  the  benefit  of  the 
satisfaction  ;  and  the  expression  might  be 
synecdochical,  the  thing  purchased  for  the 
thing  purchasing.  This  interpretation,  I 
fancy,  would  have  been  clearer  and  less 
exceptionable,  if  he  had  used  the  word 
punishmerd,  instead  of  satisfaction.  Then, 
as  Christ  and  the  church  are  one,  his  suffer- 
ings might  be  called  hers,  and  his  righteous- 
ness is  reckoned  hers.  Vitringa  gives  a 
future  signification  to  the  verb  "lakethe  :" 
She  shall  receive,  not  double  puni^hme^t, 
but  double  i)lessings,  agreeably  to  that  doc- 
trine taught  by  St-  Paul,  "  Where  sin  hath 
abounded,  grace  shall  much  more  abound." 
I  shall  be  glad  of  your  opinion  on  this 
point ;  glad  of  your  assistasice  in  my  pur- 
posed work  ;  and,  above  all,  glad  of  your 
fervent  prayers  for,  dear  sir,  your  obliged 
and  faithful  friend. 


LETTER  CXLIIL 

Friday  evening. 
My  dear  Friend, — As  to  the  matter  of 
defending  me,  I  thiid^  non  eat  tanli.  I  am 
ten  thousand  times  more  for  your  conversing 
like  a  Christian  on  every  occasion.  Take  all 
])roper  opportunities  of  glorifying  yoiii'  divine 
Master,  and  be  spreading  abroad  the  savour 
of  his  blessed  name.  It  would  bring  dig- 
nity to  your  character,  I  am  persuaded,  and 
would  command  reverence  even  from  gain- 
sayers,  if  you  was  sometimes  to  make  a 
frank  declaration  on  this  head,  and  act  ac- 
cordingly. Do  not  scruple  to  bid  yoin-  pa- 
tients seek  to  God  for  a  blessing  ;  when 
they  are  recovered,  remind  them  of  their 
obligations  to  the  Almighty  Phy.sieian : 
they  are  restored  to  health,  not  for  the  poor 
purposes  of  eating  and  drinking  a  little 
more,    but    to    acqur.int    themselves    with 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS: 


867 


Cl'.rist  Jesus,  to  prepare  for  eternity,  and  j 
make  their  salvation  sure.  This  would  be 
truly  graceful,  might  do  much  good  ;  and 
should  Hiiy  one  tiud  i'ault  with  this  practice, 
he  must  not  prete:id  to  the  piety  of  a 
Christian ;  he  has  not  the  religion  of  a 
heathen.  Such  a  one  should  reineuiber  the 
conduct,  and  consider  the  sentiments  of 
your  brother  lupin. 

Non  hflcc  humanis  opibus,  non  arte  magistra 
I'roveniunt ;  ntque  te  -'Enea,  mea  dexttra  servat; 
Major  agit  Deus,  atque.opera  ad  roajora  remittit. 
ViKG.  --E.N.  lib.  xii. 

No  mortal.work  is  this  ;  no  cure  of  mine'; 
Nor  art's  cll'ect,  hut  do.ae  by  har.ds  divine ; 
'Tis  God  -Eneas  to  the  battle  sends; 
Tis  God  preserves  his  life  for  greater  ends. 

Thanks  for  your  advice  about  what  1 
recommended  to  your  consideration,  and 
about  my  own  health  :  God  has  been  better 
to  me  than  my  apprehensive  heart  expected. 
O  that,  so  long  as  I  have  breatli,  it  may  be 
employed  to  his  honour,  who  forgiveth  all 
our  sins,  and  healeth  all  our  infirmities,  and 
when  he  heals  thcin  not,  will  make  them  a 
blessing. 

Do,  my  dear  friend,  persist,  in  a  prudent 
way,  to  bear  your  testimony  for  a  IMaster, 
who  has  bought  you  with  his  very  life,  and 
intends  to  make  ynu  ])artaker  of  his  ever- 
lasting kingdi^m.  If  this  does  you  or  yours 
any  real  harm,  reproacii  me  with  it  when 
we  shall  both  stand  in  the  presence  of  the 
whole  world,  and  before  the  tribunal  of  our 
Judge Ever  yours,  while,  &c. 

P.  S. — You  tell  n\e,  that  "  your  busi- 
ness has  lain  so  wide,  and  yon  have  been 
so  much  hurried  this  sickly  time,  that  you 
have  scarcely  had  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to 
yourself  for  these  last  three  weeks."  O, 
my  dear  friend  !  how  much  soever  you  may 
be  hurried  by  the  distance  and  tiie  multi- 
plicity of  your  avocations,  do  not  forget  to 
pray  for  that  wisdom  which  is  )irofital)le 
(or  useful)  to  direct  us  (Eccl.  x.  10.)  even 
in  tiie  smallest  mattters,  miK.-h  more  in  all 
great  and  weighty  affairs.  You  wiio  move 
in  so  conspicuous  a  sphere,  so  large  a  field 
of  action,  must  have  very  particular  occa- 
sion, very  pressing  necessity  for  divine 
direction ;  and  therefore  that  important 
ejacidation,  Direct  j:e,  O  Lono,  shoidd 
ever  be  uppermost  in  your  thoughts.  "  Take 
ye  heed,  watch  and  pray ;  this  is  the  kind 
admonition  of  the  blessed  Jesus,  wlio  well 
knows  the  human  frame,  and  sees  how  very 
liable  we  arc  to  be  drawn  aside  by  a  variety 
of  temptations  with  which  we  are  daily  sur- 
rounded. 


LETTER  CXLIV. 

De.ar    Sir, — As   the   interval  between 
the  hour  of  our  dissolution,  and  the  day  of 


resurrection,  will,  in  all  probabilitv,  be  very- 
considerable,  much  longer  than  the  time  of 
our  continuance  on  euith  ;  it  is  a  very  rea- 
sonable and  important  inquiry  to  examine 
into  the  circmnstances  of  this  state.  The 
Scripture,  our  infallible  director,  which  is 
(so  copious  uj)on  all  the  grand  articles  of 
religioti,  and)  silent  upon  nothing  that  re- 
lates to  t\v2  true  happiness  of  mankind,  has 
not  left  us  without  information  in  tins  par- 
ticular :  Whereas  all  other  writers  grope 
in  the  dark  ;  not  one  of  them  has  been  able 
to  draw  back  the  curtain,  or  give  us  (any) 
the  least  insight  into  the  invisible  world  ; 
it  is  to  them,  and  in  all  their  systems,  an 
absolute  terra  incognita.  A  few  of  the 
scriptural  discoveries  may  be  sten  in  the 
answer  to  the  following  queries. 

Istf  When  the  souls,  the  souls  of  the 
righteous,  depart  from  t!ie  body,  by  whom 
are  they  received  ?  By  holy  angels.  The 
angels  were  ministering  spirits  to  them  in 
the  days  of  their  tlesh,  and  will  be  their 
guard  and  their  convoy  when  they  relinqtiish 
the  earthly  tabernacle.  When  Lazarus  died, 
he  was  carried  by  angels.  What  a  com- 
fortable privilege  is  this!  not  to  be  left 
solitary  and  desolate,  like  a  shi])wreekt(l 
mariner  on  some  unknown  coast ;  but  to  be 
under  the  guidance  and  protection  of  those 
benevolent  beings ! 

2(^^,  In  what  place  are  they  lodged? 
This  is  described,  not  from  our  ideas  ot 
locality,  or  any  proj)erties  of  space,  but 
from  the  society  and  enjoyments.  It  is 
not  very  material  whether  they  are  above 
or  below,  in  the  heaven  of  heavens  (which, 
I  think,  is  most  probable)  or  in  some  sej)a- 
rate  mansion.  A  disembodied  spirit,  if 
under  the  wrath  of  God,  must  everywhere 
be  extremely  miserable  ;  if  surrounded  with 
!  his  favour,  will  everywhere  be  exceedingly 
happy.  To  such  ii  spirit,  that  has  no  longer 
any  connexion  with  sensible  things,  God's 
smile  nuist  be  heaven,  (rod's  IVown  must 
he  hell.  Wherever  tiiis  region  lies,  we 
are  siire  it  lies  under  the  beams  of  the  Sun 
of  Righteousness ;  Chsist  is  there,  and 
where  he  is  present,  happiness  cannot  be 
absent.  "  Thou  shalt  be  with  me,"  is  his 
promise  to  the  penitent  thief.  Abraham  is 
there,  the  friend  of  God,  and  the  father  of 
the  faithful.  Lazurus,  we  are  told,  Mas 
carried  into  Abraham's  bosom  ;  and  where 
he  resides,  where  all  the  children  of  God 
and  heirs  of  glory  dwell,  there  must  be 
pleasures  ;  such  pleasures,  that  the  place  is 
Cidled  paradise  ;  "  Thou  shalt  be  with  nie 
in  paradise."  The  delightful  garden  of 
Eden,  which  the  Lord  himself  planted,  and 
which  innocent  man  inhabited,  was  incom- 
parably the  fmest,  noblest  spoc  in  this  sub- 
lunary world ;  and  this  is  used  to  give  us 
some  faint  representation  of  those  blessed 
abodes,  v.here  the  souls  and  spirits  of  tlie 


868 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


righteous  remain  till  tlie  shout  of  the  arch- 
angel arid  the  trump  of  God  suinmoii  them. 

3^/(y,  How  sooti  are  they  lodged  in  this 
desirable  situation  ?  Without  delay.  I  jind 
no  mention  of  any  intermediate  purgation, 
or  of  any  period  for  inactivity  and  forget- 
fvdness  :  "  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me," 
is  our  Lord's  expression  ;  and  it  is  observ- 
able, that  the  Jewish  day  was  very  near 
closing,  when  our  Saviour  gave  up  the 
ghost ;  nearer  still  when  that  converted 
malefactor  expired.  "  I  have  a  desire  to 
be  dissolved,"  says  St.  Paul,  "  and  to  be 
v/ith  Christ ;"  he  speaks  of  hi?  release  from 
clay,  and  his  introduction  into  the  Redeem- 
er's presence,  as  instantaneous.  No  sooner 
does  the  former  commence,  but  the  latter 
takes  place.  What  an  encouragement  is 
this  to  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith,  and 
linish  our  course  with  alacrity  and  diligence, 
since  we  are  not  to  wait  in  wishful  but  dis- 
appointed expectation  !  No,  the  very  mo- 
ment our  warfare  is  accomplished,  our  re- 
ward begins !  Which  reminds  me  of  an- 
other inquiry. 

Athhj,  What  is  the  condition  of  holy 
souls,  in  this  separate  state  ? 

1.  They  rest  from  their  labours;  from 
all  the  disorders  that  affiicted  their  bodies, 
from  all  the  temptations  that  disquieted 
their  souls.  They  are  no  longer  ridiculed 
and  persecuted  by  ungodly  men.  They 
baTero  nure  conflict  with  the  powers  of 
darkness  and  their  own  corruptions ;  sin 
and  sorrow  cease  eternally.  They  are  freed, 
entirely  freed,  from  every  evil. 

2.  They  enter  into  peace.  They  have 
then  peace  with  God,  peace  in  their  own 
thoughts,  peace  with  fellow-saints,  which 
passeth  ail  understanding.  Peace  implies 
a  positive  happiness.  Peace,  in  the  Scrip- 
tural language,  denotes  all  manner  of  bless- 
ing, and  such  is  its  import  in  the  preceding 
passage.  In  this  large  extent  will  it  be 
made  good  to  the  righteous.  When  they 
relinquish  the  earthly  tabernacle,  the  scales 
of  ignorance  fall  from  their  understandings  ; 
their  will  is  wonderfully  conformed  to 
Christ's  ;  every  weight  drops  off  from  their 
affections ;  and  their  holiness  is  exceedingly 
confirmed.  They  are  honoured  with  nearer 
approaches  to  God,  they  are  favoured  with 
clearer  manifestations  of  his  glory,  they  feel 
richer  emanations  of  his  love,  and  are  more 
and  more  transformed  into  his  image  ; 
every  doubt  vanishes,  and  they  rejoice  in 
the  prospect,  the  assured  and  refreshing 
prospect  of  receiving  all  the  fulness  of  their 
everlasting  felicity.  I  said  fulness  ;  for 
though  the  felicity  of  the  soul  upon  its  dis- 
mission from  mortality  is  great,  is  high,  is 
to  us  inconceivable;  yet  it  will  not  be  com- 
plete till  the  body  is  reunited  to  it,  reani- 
mated by  it.  !  hen  that  will  not  only  be 
rescued  from  corruption,  but  made  like  unto 


Christ's  glorious  body,  will  be  dignified  witfr 
divine  approbation,  and  that  before  the 
largest  assembly  of  men  and  angels ;  they 
will  receive  a  crown  of  righteousness  ;  they 
will  sit  on  thrones,  and  judge  the  apostate 
angels  ;  they  will  then  possess  the  kingdom 
prepared  for  them  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world. 

What  is  said  of  the  righteous  may  lead 
us  to  some  proper  conceptions  with  regard 
to  the  wicked  and  their  state  ;  the  one  is 
the  reverse  of  the  other  :  as  they  were  quite 
dissimilar  in  their  life,  in  their  death  they 
are  equally  different.  If  the  righteous  are 
committed  to  the  care  of  benevolent  angels, 
the  wicked,  it  is  very  probable,  are  aban- 
doned to  the  insults  and  rage  of  malevolent 
spirits.  If  the  righteous  are  admitted  into 
mansions  of  bliss,  the  wicked  are  consigned 
over  to  the  places  of  horror  and  torment, 
where  is  all  the  misery  which  is  expressed 
by  weeping  and  wailing  ;  all  that  self-con- 
demnation and  anguish,  vi-hicli  is  expressed 
by  gnashing  of  teeth.  If  the  righteous  en- 
joy  the  calm  of  uninterrupted  tranquillity, 
and  the  light  of  perpetual  sunshine,  the 
wicked  are  reserved  in  chains  of  darkness 
unto  the  judgment  of  the  great  day  ;  wear- 
ied by  their  own  ungovernable  passions, 
stung  by  eager  but  unsatisfied  desires, 
haunted  by  a  stern  upbraiding  conscience. 
In  a  word,  while  the  righteous  are  looking 
for  that  blessed  hope,  and  the  glorious  ap- 
pearing of  the  great  God,  and  their  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ  ;  they  are  trembling  under  the 
dismal  apprehensions  of  that  dreadful  day, 
when  Jesus  Christ  shall  be  revealed  in 
flaming  fire. 

I  add  only  a  remark  on  that  text  of  St.. 
John,  to  which  we  are  so  much  obliged  in 
this  inquiry,  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  which 
die  in  the  Lord,"  &c.  The  Lord  must 
certainly  signify  the  Lord  .Tesus  Christ. 
To  die  in  him,  must,  I  think,  imply  dying 
in  his  faith,  so  as  to  be  one  with  him  ;  in- 
terested in  his  mercy,  renewed  by  his  Spi- 
rit, and  conformed  in  some  prevailing  de* 
gree  to  his  image.  May  this  be  the  state 
of  our  souls,  while  we  live  here,  and  when 
we  depart  hence.  Tiien  that  will  be  ful- 
filled, to  our  unspeakable  and  eternal  com- 
fort, which  is  spoken  by  another  apostle, 
"  To  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is 
gain."     I  am,  desu:  sir,  yours  sincerely. 


LETTER  CXLV. 

Wcstov,  Saturday  morning. 
Mv  DEAR  FitiEND, — I  thought  of  vou  in 
a  particular  manner  on  Thursday,  being  the 
sad  anniversary  on  which  your  late  excellent 
lady  resigned  this  life;  and  at  the  same 
time  I  thought  on  tiiose  tender  lines, 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


869 


JtmiT.ie  (lies,  ni  fallor,  adest ;  quem  semperacerbura,  I  \\rp]'(i    oombin^l 
Semper  honoratum,  sic  Dii  voiuistis,  habebo.* 

Virg.  Aiii.  lib.  v. 

I  cannot  but  take  notice  of  tlie  wisdom  and 
piety  of  my  favourite  poet  ;  he  teaches  his 
hero  to  resolve  all  afllictive  and  dark  dispen- 
sations into  the  gracious  will  of  God,  and  to 
derive  his  consolation  from  this  belief. 
Sic  Dii  vohiis/is,  is  a  sort  of  imitation  of  the 
pood  old  priest  Eli,  "  It  is  the  Lord,  lot 
him  do  what  seemeth  him  good."  It  is  not 
much  unlike  the  exemplary  acknowledgment 
of  the  patriarch  Job,  "  The  Lord  gave,  and 
the  Lord  hatli  taken  away,  blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord  !" 

I  am  thankful  for  your  present  of  Vani- 
erii  prcedium  Rusticuvt.  It  is  a  very  beauti- 
ful piece  :  uni  Virgilio  secundus  ;  the  most 
elegant  and  correct  Latin  composition  that 
I  have  met  with  among  the  moderns. 

I  have  no  fault  to  find,  and  no  alteration 
to  offer,  with  regard  to  the  little  tract  that 
you  submit  to  my  correction.  But  what 
shall  1  say  to  my  dear  friend  himself.^  Oh  ! 
ivhat  opportunities  of  doing  good,  substan- 
tial and  immortal  good,  do  you  lose,  do  you 
squander  away  !  Opportunities,  that  are 
flying  from  you  upon  the  swiftest  wings  of 
time  ;  and  when  once  gone,  are  never  to  be 
recovered.  I  do  not  so  much  as  think  of 
your  neglecting  business ;  but  do  let  the 
world  see,  that  business  may  be  managed, 
great  business  managed,  and  yet  Christ  and 
eternal  ages  not  forgot.  Ltt  men  see,  that 
the  comforts  of  Christianity,  the  privileges 
of  the  gospel,  are  so  truly  delightful,  as  to 
be  the  most  effectual  sovereign  refreshment 
mider  the  fatigues  of  a  burdensome  employ. 
Thus  doing,  you  would  be  a  credit  and  high 
recommendation  to  religion  ;  and  blessed 
would  you  be,  if  your  Master,  when  he 
Cometh,  should  find  you  so  doing.  You 
will  excuse  my  freedom  ;  and  in  return,  I 
will  not  cease  to  pray,  that  the  "love  of 
Christ  may  constrain  you,"  2  Cor.  v.  14. 
I  am,  &c. 


LETTER  CXLVL 

Tuesday  morninp. 
My  pear  Friend, —  Well  might  Dr. 
Doddridge  say,  "  that  in  Saurin's  sermons, 
the  excellencies  of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero 
were  united."  Never  did  I  meet  with  any 
thing  equal  to  the  jjassages  which  the  Doc- 
tor was  so  obliging  as  to  translate,  purpose- 
ly to  give  me  some  ideas  of  this  celebrated 
writer.  He  seems  to  have  understood  the 
gospel  well,  and  all  the   powers  of  oratory 


•  The  Knglish  of  which  is,  "  Now  the  day,  if  I 
inistake  not,  is  at  hand,  which  (such  has  l)een  the 
;will  of  Heavfc.i)  I  shall  al-.vays  account  a  day  of  sor- 
row, a  day  to  be  honoured."  " 


him.  I  dare  say  he 
preached  from  his  heart,  and  the  grace  of 
God  accompanied  his  words.  If  I  have 
been  so  much  affected,  merely  by  this  de- 
sultory translation,  how  much  more  should 
I  be  transported,  was  I  (like  you)  sufficient- 
ly skilled  in  the  French  language  to  read  the 
original  itself!  Saurin,  it  seems,  was  a 
Protestant;  and  I  am  told,  that  in  Hol- 
land, where  he  exercised  his  ministry,  the 
streets  were  so  crowded  for  several  hours 
before  the  service  began,  that  it  was  very 
difficult  to  gain  admission.  Is  it  not  aston- 
ishing, that  the  sermons  of  so  popular  a 
preacher,  and  so  eminent  a  writer,  should 
not  as  yet  have  been  put  into  an  English 
dress  ?  ]3ut  this  I  presume  is  owing  to 
the  diflSculty  of  doing  justice  to  an  author 
of  his  extraordinary  genius.  I  am  well 
aware,  that  few  are  equal  to  such  an  under- 
taking; but  if  there  was  a  spirited  transla- 
tion of  these  animating  sermons,  published 
in  weekly  numbers,  they  would  be  well  re- 
ceived, and  might,  through  the  divine  bless- 
ing, be  the  means  of  doing  much  good  to 
the  community. 

I  have  been  enabled,  blessed  for  ever  be 
God  !  to  perform  my  office,  and  preach  to 
a  crowded  congregation.  "  Jesus  said  the 
third  time,  Simon,  son  of  Junas,  lovest  thou 
me  ?"  was  the  text.  O  that  it  may  be  the 
power  of  God  to  the  salvation  of  the  hear- 
ers !  I  hope,  my  disorder  in  my  head,  and 
pain  in  my  teeth,  are  not  increased,  though 
I  felt  the  cold  air  breathe  upon  my  face  ; 
for  the  church  was  so  thronged,  that  it  was 
not  practicable  to  shut  the  door.  O  for 
faith  in  the  Almighty  Guardian,  the  Al- 
mighty Physician  ! 

This,  I  presume",  will  find  you  safely  re- 
turned from  London  to  your  own  habitation  ; 
but  though  come  back  to  your  resting-place, 
yet  more  and  more  sensible  that  we  are  but 
strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the  earth. 

I  hope  ere  long  to  see  you  at  Weston  ; 
for  I  can  assure  j-ou,  my  dear  sir,  that 
amongst  the  many,  many  friends  that  dearly 
love  you,  no  one  can  have  a  more  aff"ection- 
ate  regard  for  you  than,  yours  unalterably, 
&c. 


LETTER  CXLVII. 

Sept.  25,  1755. 
Dear   Sir, — I  lately   received  a  letter 

from  my  very  valuable  friend  ;\Ir.  ,  an 

extract  of  which  I  here  transcribe,  as  he 
has  made  some  just  remarks  on  Mr.  Burn- 
ham's  blamable  behaviour,  in  refusing  the 
help  of  a  physician.  I  believe  you  can  an- 
swer for  me,  that  I  shall  never  be  guilty  of 
that  fault!  as  I  think  altogether  with  the 
wise  son  of  ISirach,  that  "  ihc   Lord  hath 


870 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS.- 


orcitcd  the  ;)liy?;'."i:Hi,  and  that  such  are  to 
be  regarded  for  the  uses  we  may  have  of 
them.  The  L<T(I  likewise  hath  created 
medicines  out  of  the  earth,  and  lie  that  is 
wise  will  not  abhor  them,"  Eccl'us.  xxxviii. 

"  I  hitve,"  says  rev  correspondent,  "  been 
reading  Bumhaui's  Pious  Memorials,  as  it 
was  published  with  a  recommendatory  pre- 
face by  you,  in  behalf  of  his  distressed  wi- 
dow. The  dying  behaviour  of  Dr.  An- 
drew Rivet,  page  212,  and  Dr.  Peter  du 
Moulin,  page  263,  charms  me  exceedingly. 
Every  word  has  its  v.cight,  and  shines  like 
a  well-set  diamond  iii  a  ring  ;  or,  as  Solo- 
mon expresses  it,  like  an  apple  of  gold  in  a 
picture  of  silver.  Mr.  Burnham  was  un- 
doubtedly an  excellent  man,  but  he  does 
not  seem  to  come  up  to  these  in  divine 
knowledge.  Methinks  I  do  not  so  vvell 
approve  of  his  refusing  the  help  of  a  phy- 
sician, page  43L  and  the  slight  with  which 
he  treated  such  a  proposal.  It  does  indeed 
shew,  that  he  lived  quite  above  the  fear  of 
death  ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  shews  great 
weakness  of  mind.  Life  and  health  are 
mercies  in  the  esteem  of  Heaven ;  and  the 
dying  Christian  ought  to  esteem  every  thiiig 
as  God  esteems  it.  Suppose  such  a  one 
desires  to  die,  yet  still  he  ought  to  use 
every  hnvful  means  to  live,  to  make  the 
will  of  God  his  own,  and  to  be  willing  to 
continue  even  out  of  heaven,  as  long  as  his 
heaveidy  Father  pleases.  The  same  weak- 
ness of  mind  appears  in  his  desiring  his 
fi-iends  not  to  pray  for  his  life,  and  in  his 
being  sorry  that  they  made  so  much  ado, 
page  433.  Had  he  requested  them  to  pray 
for  him  importunately,  yet  in  humble  sub- 
mission to  the  vrill  of  God,  and  to  be  sure 
to  acquiesce  in  it,  whether  for  life  or  death, 
methinks  it  had  been  better.  An  earnest 
desire  of  a  speedy  dissolution  has  led  some 
pious  martyrs,  and  some  dying  Christians 
too,  into  a  mistake,  which  it  is  proper  to 
take  notice  of,  but  more  proper  to  avoid." 

How  do  you  approve  of  the  following 
method,  in  conversing  with  the  survivors 
after  the  loss  of  a  dear  child  or  friend  ?  It 
is  merely  a  sketch  ;  yet  a  due  regularity  is 
preserved  by  the  three  divisions  ;  and  some 
of  the  heads  in  each  division  are  to  be  en- 
larged ujjon  or  omitted,  and  others  added 
occasionally.  The  use  of  such  sketches 
may  be  seen  in  the  Preface  to  Mr.  Rich- 
ard's "  Hints  for  Religious  Conversation 
with  the  Afflicted  ;"  whose  plan,  though 
some  of  his  hints  are  rot  sufficiently  adapt- 
ed to  the  case  described,  I  highly  approve  ; 
as  it  cannot  but  be  serviceable  to  every 
Christian  who  is  desirous  of  entering  into 
spiritual  discourse  ;  and  more  particularly 
to  young  clergymen,  \\'ho  would  do  well  to 
transcribe,  study,  nr.d  iinprove  those  hints  ; 
as  they  are  too  often  at  a  loss  how  to  ex- 
hort. admoni;di,  or  comfort,  as  various  dis- 


positions and  circumstances  rrqtnre.  When 
you  send  me  your  opinion,  make  such  alter- 
ations as  occur  to  you. 

The  Consolntion. 
It   is    God's    will  ;    who    still    continues 

many  comforts  to  us. 
His  will  always  wise,  good,  best. 
We  are   his   creatures.      He  has  a  right  to 

us,  as  we  have  to  our  cattle  or  lands. 
It   is    the   Lord's    doing-      This    was  the 

support  of  Eli,  Job,  Hezekiali. 

The  Improvement. 

"  For  us  men  sicken,  and  for  us  they 
die."     (Dr.  Young's  Night  Thoughts.) 

To  wean  our  hearts  from  the  world. 

To  set  our  aftections  there  where  true 
joys  are  to  be  found. 

To  excite  us  with  greater  diligence  to  pre- 
pare for  our  own  great  change. 

Owr  oirn  Preparation. 

The  only  preparation  is  to  secure  the  fa- 
vour of  Christ,  and  an 'interest  in  his 
merits,  by  which  we  are  pardoned  and 
justified. 

A  participation  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  by 
which  we  are  made  lit  for  heaven. 

I  hope  you  remember,  not  without  a 
pleasing  mixture  of  gratitude  and  joy,  your 
divine,  yet  bleeding  Lord.  I  hope  you  feel 
a  more  comfortable  trust,  that  your  sins 
are  done  away  through  that  all-atoning 
blood ;  and  that  you  pray  with  a  more 
steady  faith  for  that  most  blessed  Spirit, 
which  was  scaled  to  our  enjoyment  in  the 
holy  sacrament,  of  which  we  were  so  lately 
partakers. 

I  desire  you  wotild  enter  into  some  spiri- 
tual conversation  with  the  bearer,  whom  I 
have  recommended  to  you  ;  you  will  then 
see  the  more  than  rocky  hardness  of  the 
human  heart,  and  the  absolute  need  of 
prayer  and  almighty  grace,  in  order  to  make 
it  susceptible  of  saving  impressions.  I 
dare  say  you  will  draw  several  useful  con- 
clusions from  this  interview,  though  your 
attempts  for  his  benefit  I  fear  will  prove 
ineffectual. 

A  gentleman  yesterday  told  a  story,  well 
attested,  which  you  will  be  jdeased  to  hear, 
as  it  shows  in  a  very  strong  light  the  use 
of  those  passages  of  Scripture  which  the 
unthinking  are  too  apt  to  consider  as  use- 
less. A  certain  libertine,  of  a  most  aban- 
doned character,  happened  accidentally  to 
stroll  into  a  church,  where  he  heard  the 
fifth  chapter  of  (Jenesis,  importing  that  so 
long  lived  such  and  such  persons,  and  yet 
the  conclusion  was,  they  died.  Enos  lived 
905  years,  and  he  died  ;  Seth  912,  and  he 
died  ;  lilethuselah  969,  and  he  died.  The 
frequent  repetition  of  the  woids  hk  died, 
(notwithstanding  the  great  length  of  years 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


871 


tliey  liad  lived,)  struck  liim  so  deeply  wiili 
the  tboua^ht  of  death  and  eternity,  tliat  it 
<banged  his  whole  frame.  He  attended 
the  roniainiiif;  part  of  the  divine  service 
with  the  utmost  seriousness  ;  went  home, 
and  prayed  earnestly  to  (iod  for  forgiveness, 
and  the  assistance  of  his  Holy  Sjiirit  ;  and 
liecame,  from  an  infamous  lihei'tiiie,  a  most 
i'.\em))lary  Christian.  By  this  chapter  we 
see,  bow  soon  youth,  health,  and  all  world- 
ly delights  must  end.  This,  to  a  worldly- 
minded  man,  casts  a  damp  upon  all  these 
desirable  things  ;  but  to  a  soul  acquainted 
with  Christ,  and  an  affection  removed  from 
hence  already,  no  thought  is  so  sweet  as 
this.  Enos  died,  Setb  died,  Methuselah 
died,  and  (blessed  be  God  for  the  privilege 
of  death)  so  shall  L  It  helps  much  to 
carry  us  cheerfully  through  wrestlings  and 
difficulties,  through  better  and  worse.  We 
see  the  land  of  promise  near.  We  shall 
quickly  pass  Jordan,  and  be  at  home- 
There  will  be  an  end  of  the  many  vexations 
of  this  life,  an  end  of  sin,  an  end  of  tempt- 
ations, nay,  an  end  of  prayer  itself;  to 
which  will  succeed  new  songs  of  endless 
praises.  Oh,  let  us  often  reflect  on  what 
St.  Peter  advances,  "  The  end  of  all  things 
is,  therefore,  at  hand  ;  be  ye  sober,  and 
watch  unto  prayer,"   I  Pet.  iv.  7. 

I  hope  you  will  well  weigh  this,  and  in- 
troduce spiritual  discourse  whenever  a  fair 
opportunity  presents.  Set  your  face  as  a 
flint  amongst  the  great.  Establish  your 
heart  as  a  rock ;  and  let  nothing,  nothing 
divert  you  from  furthering  the  interest  of 
Christ,  wherever  you  yourself  have  any  in- 
terest. It  is  like  plunging  into  cold  water 
perhaps  at  first,  but  afterwards  comes  a 
glow  all  over  you.  Remember  what  I  now 
say,  should  you  live  thirty  or  forty  years 
longer,  yet  when  you  come  to  die,  take  my 
word  for  it,  you  will  wish  you  had  con- 
versed more  on  and  for  Christ. 

I  am  satisfied  from  the  sacred  oracles,  as 
clear  as  light,  concerning  the  origin  of  evil. 
And  if  any  one,  without  having  recourse  to 
revelation,  can  satisfactorily  solve  that 
question,  crit  mild  viagnus  Apollo.  My 
dear  friend,  let  the  word  of  Christ  dwell  in 
us  richly. 

Thanks  for  the  use  of  Wharton's  and 
Pitt's  Virgil.  All  the  Syrens  sing  in 
liis  lines,  but  the  joyful  sound  is  no- 
where heard.  Was  the  ear  of  our  soul 
tuned  aright,  there  would  be  more  music  in 
this  one  sentence  from  the  King  of  heaven, 
"  I  have  called  you  friends,"  (John  xv.  1.3.) 
than  in  all  the  Iliad  and  all  the  MnaiA. 
I  am  ever  and  affectionately  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CXLVIII. 


Weston- Favell,  Sept.  20,  1755. 

Dkar  Sir, — You  threaten  to  put  my 
patience  to  the  trial,  by  a  very  long  letter 
of  scriptural  criticisms.  I  shall  only  reply, 
O  that  my  patience  may  support  all  other 
trials  with  the  same  coni])lacency  and  cheer- 
fulness, as  I  am  persuaded  it  will  support 
itself  under  this  !  Your  observations  I 
very  much  value,  and  take  a  singular  plea- 
sure in  reading.  The  Lord  Jesus  enable 
you  to  multiply  them,  and  me  to  profit  from 
them  !  and  help  us  both  to  love  his  holy 
name,  ever  more  and  more  ! 

I  am  entirely  of  your  opinion  with 
regard  to  the  worth,  the  inestimable  worth, 
of  the  present  life  ;  especially  when  there 
is  a  comfortable  pi'ospect  of  being  useful  in 
our  generation.  This  state  affords  the  only 
opportunity  of  doing  good  to  immoital 
souls.  The  dead  serve  not  their  Lord  in 
the  work  of  the  gospel.  The  living,  the 
living  only,  are  intrusted  with  the  precious 
office  of  turning  sinners  from  darkness  to 
light ;  therefore  the  living  should  value  this 
distinguished  prerogative  at  a  high  rate. 
Perhaps  you  think  that  I  was  the  writer 
of  Mr.  J3urnham's  life.  From  a  question 
proposed  to  me  very  lately  by  a  clergyman, 
I  fancy  that  others  think  tlie  same;*  but 
I  neither  was  the  author,  nor  do  I  know 
the  author's  name. 

I  have  sent  you  the  third  edition  of  The- 
ron  and  Aspasio ;  you  will  observe,  that  I 
have  made  some  alteration  in  Dialogue  xvi. 
and  that  I  still  adhere  to  my  first  opinion 
with  regard  to  faith.  I  assure  myself  you 
can  bear  with  me,  though  I  should  continue, 
in  this  particular  point,  to  vary  somewhat 
from  your  way  of  thinking.  I  shall  be 
truly  glad  and  thaidcful,  if  you  will  examine 
me  with  the  rigour  of  a  critic,  and  muster 
up  against  my  doctrine  the  strongest  ob- 
jections you  can  conceive  ;  for  I  do  earnestly 
wish,  and  frequently  pray,  that  not  any  no- 
tion of  mine,  but  the  holy  truth  of  God 
may  prevail.  You  will  also  observe,  what 
advantage  I  have  made  of  your  remark  on 
Vitringa's  interpretation  of  Isaiah  xx.x.  18. 
I  shall  expect  your  animadversions  on 
Mr.  Marshall  with  eagerness  ;  and  though 
he  is  my  counsellor,  my  comforter,  and  my 
favourite,  I  trust  1  shall  not  be  blind  to  his 
faults,  nor  refuse  to  see  his  mistakes.  May 
the  wisdom  of  Heaven  guide,  direct,  and 
teach,  dear  sir,  your  affectionate  and  oblig- 
ed friend,  &c. 


»  Mr.  Hervey  was  solicited  to  write  the  nrcfaco  :o 
Buniliani's  Pious  Memorials,  which  he  comiilicd 
with  as  an  act  of  compassion  tothelwidow,  wlio 
thought  his  name  might  promote  the  sale  oi'  tli« 
lx)ok  for  her  bciielit.    bee  this  preface,  p .  711. 


872 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


LETTER  CXLLX. 

Westo7i-Favell,  Oct.  23,  1755. 

My  dear  Friend. — I  have  received,  and 
am  very  much  obliged  for  your  remarks  on 
Mr.  IMarshall's  treatise  ot"  Sanctitication. 
They  are  truly  judicious;  and  se\eral  of 
them  command  my  assent.  You  will  won- 
der to  see,  how  strongly  I  have  recom- 
nietided  this  book  in  the  second  volume  of 
my  Theron  and  Asj)asio.  It  has  been  emi- 
nently blessed  to  my  own  soul :  there  is  no 
religious  treatise  I  read,  which  does  me 
more  good.  Pray  be  so  kind  as  to  execute 
what  you  proposed.  Shew  me  how  Mr. 
Marshall's  method  may  be  improved  ;  for 
I  would  gladly  tread  in  his  steps,  on  this 
account,  as  well  as  on  others,  that  I  may 
have  an  opportunity  of  acknowledging  his 
mistakes,  and  cautioning  my  reader. 

Downhame's  Christian  Warfare,  against 
the  devil,  the  world,  and  the  flesh,  I  will 
immediately  endeavour  to  procure.  I  should 
be  glad  if  you  would  point  out  other  excel- 
lent books.  I  am  sometimes  asked  to  give 
a  friend  or  a  student  a  catalogue  of  the  most 
excellent  authors,  (particularly  of  religious 
authors).  To  do  this,  seems  to  be  a  valu- 
able piece  of  service,  especially  as  it  is  so 
unhappily  neglected  by  the  conductors  of 
our  youthful  studies. 

Your  last  paragraph  is  particularly  kind 
and  obliging ;  but  however  your  benevo- 
lence may  regard  and  represent  it,  I  shall 
iilu'ays  esteem  and  acknowledge  it  as  a 
singular  favour  to  receive  your  critical  ob- 
servations ;  in  which,  as  in  the  threads 
made  of  silk  and  gold,  there  is  always  a 
most  agreeable  mixture  of  learning  and 
devotion. 

Pray  what  do  you  apprehend  to  be  the 
meaning  of  St.  Paul,  1  Cor.  ix.  26.  sx  us 
ah^Xu;.  Dr.  Doddridge  translates  the  passage 
thus  :  "  Not  as  one  who  is  to  pass  undis- 
tinguished." In  the  same  chapter,  verse  23, 

another  difficulty  occurs,  iva,  o-vfuonaivo;  aum 
•yivafiai.  I'Cor.xii.  31.  ZjjAsteSs  Ta,^u.pi<rf^a]ix. 

Tu  K^iilroi/a,  Dr.  Doddridge  imderstands  as  a 
reprehension^  not  as  an  encoiu-agement.  He 
translates  the  words,  "  Ye  contend  earnestly 
about  the  best  gifts  ;"  and  interprets  the 
clause,  "  envying,  and,  it  may  be,  detract- 
ing from  the  superior  endowments  of 
others."  Is  this  right?  See  chap.  xiv.  1. 
I  am  at  some  loss  to  make  out  the  pro- 
priety of  To  xa.^'  ■/iju.Mii  ^!i^tiya.(poii,  Col.  ii.   14. 

How  is  the  hand- writing  of  ordinances  said 
to  be  contraiy  to  us  ?  The  ceremonial 
law,  which  I  suppose  is  meant  by  loy//.a<riv, 
Vv'as  not  contraiy  to,  but  promotive  of  the 
comfort  and  peace  of  the  Jewish  worship- 
pers. The  moral  law  indeed  spoke  terror, 
and  nothing  but  tenor,  to  impotent  man. 
J?ut    the  law   of  rHcrilices    and  washi.ngs 


brought  the  glad  tidings  of  atonement  and 
purification,  which  must  be  very  consola- 
tory. What  is  ihe  precise  signitication  of 
l^akii^a.;,  ri^xiv  ■sr^oa-nkaia-as  ?  Do  they  refer 
to  any  usages  customary  and  current  in 
those  times  ? 

Let  me  now  submit  to  your  examination, 
a  very  singular  criticism  or  two  of  F'ather 
Houbigant's.  On  Isa.  ii.  22,  he  says,  "  Non 
dubitamus,  quin  fuerit  olim  scriptum, '  iu'a 
NESHEBBENEMAH  BU,'  Nam  a'titudinem  llatu 
dejicit.  Homo,  ciijus  spiritr.s  est  in  naribus 
ejus,  est  ipse  filius  hominis,  Messias,  de 
quo  in  toto  hoc  capite  vaticiiiatur  Jesaias. 
Quern  Messiam  Juda?i,  nisi  violare  timent, 
monet  eos  non  im])une  latnros.  Quia  Mes- 
sias, homo  factns,  volvit  naribus  ventos  et 
tempestates,  quibus  ipsorum  et  urbem  et 
rempublicam  sit  eversurus."  Again,  chap, 
iii.  10,  he  says,  "  '  amodu  zadok  :'  Pleri- 
que,  post  Vulgatum,  dicite  justo,  qua  in- 
terpretatione  peccant  dupliciter.  Nam  1. 
legitur  '  ZADOK,'  Justus  vel  justum,  non 
'  LEZADOK,'  justo.  2.  Parum  ad  rem  ter- 
ribilibus  minis,  qute  antecesserunt  et  quae 
sequuntur,  interseritur  iste  sermo  ad  justum 
habitus.  Nobis  satis  est  '  aseku'  pro 
'  atedu.'  Nemque  erat  futurum,  ut  Judaei 
justum  ligarent,  Romanisque  vinctum  tra- 
derent."  His  version  is,  "  Alligant  justum, 
qui  bonus  est."  You  will  begin  to  think 
that  our  author  is  extremely  fond  of  the 
spiritual  sense,  and  desirous  to  find  Christ 
or  Christian  sentiments  in  every  ])lace. 
But  he  is  seldom  (however  it  has  happened 
in  the  aforecited  texts)  liable  to  err  on  this 
side  of  the  question.  Hear  what  he  re- 
marks on  Isa.  xxxiii.  24.    "  '  Oin  bethnes 

HAHUNESHEB  TOM  HELAH.'       Agitur  piseda 

exercitus  Assyriorum,  post  eorum  fugam, 
dividenda  inter  eos,  qui  vicinis  in  locis  ha- 
bitant. Nihil  ad  earn  prsedam  iniquitas : 
Nihil  etiam  ad  antedicta,  qui  habitat  in  ea. 
Nam  ea,  de  qua  habitatione  dicatur,  nesci- 
tur.  Nihil  denique  ad  rem  '  ti  hel,'  regar 
sum.  Non  promiserat  Deus,  nullos  fore 
in  regione  aegrotos,  aut  in  lecto  jacentes 
turn,  cum  dividenda  esset  prseda.  Sed 
omnia  plana  et  commoda  erunt,  si  pro 
'  heleth'  legas  *  eeeitiii,'  piohibitus 
sum  ;  si  pro  '  BETH  bem,'  in  eis,  si  denique 
pro    '  oin'  legas    '   oden,'  pr;edam  suani, 

'  KESHA  KOM  HASHEB  DOM  KOLIAH  SUEBEN 

lASEK  LEKUBEL.'  Noii  dicet  vicinus,  prohi- 
bitus  sum  ;  populus  qui  habitabit  apud  eos, 
toilet  praedam  suam.  Quibus  verbis  prae- 
nunciatur,  praedam  de  Assyriis  fore  tantam, 
ut  omnes  licentiam  habituri  sint  pnedandi, 
et  abducendi  domnm  pr;pdas  suas." 

Hos.  vi.  3.  "  '  ubedoh'  et  cognosca- 
mus.  Parum  commode  cognoscamus,  ubi 
sequitur,  et  })ersequamur  cognitionem. 
Propterea  non  dubitamus,  quin  Osee  scrip- 
scrit '  rekuodah'  el  conveniamus,  ut  deinde 
apte  veniat,  et  sequainui-j  sive  cuiramus  ad 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


873 


cognosceiuliim  Doiniiiunj."  The  next  verse 
lie  thus  translates :  "  Quid  faciaiu  tibi, 
Kphraim,  quid  faeiam  tibi  Juda,  ut  adsit 
vubis  uiisericordia,  vi'lut  matiitiiia  nubes,  et 
lit  res  rju;e  mane  effunditur  i*  Certe  ego, 
quod  volui,  feci  prophetis  tuis  ;  interfeci 
eos  per  verba  oris  niei,  et  ex  judiciis  de  te 
n)eis  lux  orietur."  He  changes  '  iiOBiiTu' 
into  '  iu;s(JTO.' 

I  was  not  a  little  puzzled  about  Jer. 
xviii.  14.  Houbigant,  according  to  his  cus- 
tom, first  alters,  then  interprets ;  thus  he 
would  read  the  passage  :  "  '  Ubemu  kedos 

JIO.M  UB.Mi;SHON  AM  LEIiEANON  SHUDSHELEG 

TOSEK  TOZEB  GUZEi.UM.'  An  descrit  calx 
piKiram,  vel  nix  Libanum  ?  An  relinquaut 
aqua;  scaturientes  detluxus  currentium  aqua- 
nun  ?" 

When  you  have  leisure  and  inclination 
for  critical  studies,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged 
for  your  opinion  on  these  points  ;  as  I  am 
for  your  very  friendly  and  very  solid  defence 
of  me  in  the  London  ^Magazine.  Alay  the 
King  of  saints  prosper  the  works  of  your 
l)eu,  and  return  the  acts  of  your  kindness 
into  your  own  bosom  !  Let  me  once  more 
beg  of  you  to  direct  me  to  the  most  improv- 
ing books  you  have  met  with.  No  longer 
ago  than  yesterday  a  young  clergyman,  whom 
I  had  never  seen  before,  made  me  a  risit, 


prehend,  coidd  have  been  jtroduced  on  the 
occasion.  I  read  your  remarks  with  great 
attention,  and  I  humbly  trust  that  God  will 
execute  the  oilice,  and  accomplish  the  bless- 
ing mentioned  in  the  portion  of  Scripture 
which  gave  a  relish  to  our  breakfast  this 
morning. 

"  Doth  adahi  he.mlamad." — Psalm  xciv 
10. 

I  read  the  passage  in  a  small  Hebrew 
Bible  without  points  ;  and  the  first  word  in 
the  verse  seemed  to  me,  not  "  tisek,"  but 
"  HE-isED,"  which,  in  my  opinion,  yields 
the  best  sense :  He  that  "  made,  uj)hoIds, 
establishes  the  nations,"  &c.  I  have  con- 
sulted Houbigant,  but  he  makes  no  altera- 
tion. 

Indeed  we  have  need  of  divine  teaching. 
Amidst  the  variety  of  opinions  which  ever 
did,  and  perhaps  ever  will  subsist  in  our  im- 
perfect state,  he  only  who  is  the  wonderful 
Counsellor  possesses  the  unerring  clue.  A 
letter  from  Dunfermline  in  Scotland,  re- 
ceived by  the  last  ])ost,  and  written  by  a 
stranger,  informs  me,  that  upon  the  doc- 
trine of  saiictification  there  is  a  standard 
book ;  and  this  standard  book,  he  adds,  is 
Marshall's  Gospel  Mystery.  Mr.  JVIoses 
Browne  tells  me,  he  is  publishing  a  little 
piece  of  poetry,  entitled  Percy  Lodge,  the 


and  attended  a  lecture  which  I  gave  my  Duke  of  Somerset's  seat ;  [wrote  at  the  de- 
parish  in  Weston  church  on  a  Wednesday  i  sire  of  the  late  duke  and  duchess,  in  the 
evening,   at   seven    o'clock.       An  amiable :  year  IT-l'J.      Had  they  lived,  poor  Browne 


gentleman  truly  !  He  seems  mighty  well 
inclined  ;  wonders  that  his  brethren  do  not 
make  edifying  subjects,  such  as  justification, 
and  sanctific.ition,  the  favourite  toi)ics  of 
their  discourse.  Now  I  do  not  know  what 
more  substantial  service  I  could  do  such  a 
person,  than  to  recommend  to  his  study 
some  projjcr  books.  The  tidings  therefore 
of  a  judicious  evangelical  author,  with  a 
little  sketch  of  his  character  and  distin- 
guishing excellency,  might  be  a  blessing  to 
Others,  and  a  blessing  to  myself.  A  favour, 
a  welcome  favour,  I  am  very  sure,  it  would 
be  to,  dear  sir,  your  much  obliged,  and 
truly  affectionate  friend,  &cc. 


LETTER  CL. 

Weston-Favcll,  Dec.  13,  1755. 
My  dear  Friend, — I  received  your 
last  valuable  favour  in  due  time.  I  should 
have  made  my  acktiowledgments  sooner, 
but  I  staid  to  get  the  enclosed  little  pamph- 
let,* which  1  want  mu(;h  to  have  you  j)er- 
use,  and  to  have  your  oi)inion  concerning  it. 
There  seems  to  me  to  be  much  good  sense 
tmd  solid  argument,  much  more  than,  I  ap- 

»  A  little  pamphlet  on  the  Marks  and  Kvideiices 
of  Faith,  wrote  by  Mr.  Cudworth  of  Norwich. 


v.ould  have  met  with  the  encouragement  he 
deserves.  They  loved  him,  and  fully  in- 
tended to  have  served  him.]  When  it 
makes  its  a})pearance,  I  will  desire  you  to 
accept  of  a  copy.     1  am,  &c. 


LETTER  CLL 

Dear  ,    This    letter  will  come  to 

your  hands,  as  the  blessings  of  the  everlast- 
ing gospel  are  offered  to  our  souls,  without 
money  and  without  price. 

Be  under  no  concern  about  the  report  you 
mention  ;  it  gives  me  not  one  moment's 
uneasiness.  We  have  acted,  I  trust,  as 
faithful  stewards  of  our  Master  in  heaven  ; 
and  if  he  ajjproves,  how  very  insignificant 
is  the  censtn-e  of  men  !  And  what,  ah,  what 
is  a  little  misrepresentation,  or  a  few  lashes 
from  tattling  tongues,  compared  with  those 
cruel  mockings  which  our  divine  and  dying 
Redeemer  bore ! 

You  are,  I  find,  as  I  too  often  am,  in  poor 
Peter's  condition,  when  our"  Lord  addressed 
him  with  that  tender  rebuke,  "  O  thou  of 
little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  ?" 
Wherefore  indeed  do  we  doubt?  Is  he  not 
an  all-sufficient  Saviour?  Is  not  his  death 
a  complete  atonement,  sufficient  to  take 
ivay  the  sins  of  a  whole  world?  Is  not  his 


97-t 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


rigliti'OHsness  a  perfect  righteou'iness,  able 
ti>  jiistifv  even  the  most  ungcrlly?  Does 
not  his  Godhead  impart  an  infinite  dignity 
to  both?  rendering  them  more  powerful  to 
save  than  millions,  unnumbered  millions  of 
sins  are  to  destroy  ? 

Is  lie  not  a  willino:  Saviour?  IIow  will- 
ing- >.vas  Joseph  to  give  the  good  of  the  land 
of  Egypt  to  lii3  aged  father  !  How  willing 
was  Jon;ttb-ni  to  screen  his  beloved  David 
from  Saul's  wrath !  How  willing  is  an  in- 
dulgent parent  to  deal  out  bread  to  liis  hun- 
gry cliild  !  Equally  williii'^,  abundantly  more 
Avilling  is  Christ  to  give  himself  to  our 
souls,  to  rc>*oncile  us  to  bis  Almighty  Fa 
ther,  to  fit  us  for  his  kingdom,  and  take  us 
to  bis  glory.  A  parent  does  liot  choose  to 
die  for  his  child ;  Jonathan  never  spilt  his 
blood  for  David,  nor  did  Joseph  lay  dovrn 
his  life  for  that  good  old  man  Jacob.  But 
this,  all  this,  tlie  Lord  Jesus  Chiist  freely 
undertook,  freely  underwent  for  us.  What 
could  he  do  more  to  assure  us  of  his  love  ? 
Let  us  contemplate  the  story  of  liis  bitter, 
bitter  passion-  Let  us  view  him  prostrate, 
in  an  agony  of  sorrow,  on  the  cold  ground  ; 
extended,  with  racking  torture,  on  the  ac- 
cursed tree;  laid,  all  pale  and  mangled 
with  wounds,  in  the  gloomy  sepulchre  : 
And  sure  we  shall  have  a  stronger  proof  of 
Christ's  willingness  to  save  us,  than  the  tes- 
timony of  ten  thousand  ministers  preaching 
on  earth,  or  of  ten  thousand  angels  speak- 
ing from  heaven. 

Is  he  not  a  faithful  Saviour?  Having 
loved  his  own,  he  loveth  them  even  unto  the 
end.  As  his  eyes  never  slumber  nor  sleep, 
so  his  care  for  his  people  is  never  intermit- 
ted ;  he  has  written  their  names  on  the 
palms  of  his  hands,  and  their  eternal  inte- 
rests are  ever  before  him  ;  he  will  never, 
never,  never  leave  nor  forsiike  them  ;  no, 
not  in  any  circumstance,  nor  on  any  ac- 
count. They  are  his  peculiar  treasure,  and 
the  ransom  of  his  own  dear  life  ;  they  are 
the  recompense  for  all  his  sufferings,  and 
are  to  be  the  jewels  in  his  mediatorial 
crown  ;  therefore  they  shall  never  perish, 
neither  shall  any  pluck  them  out  of  his 
hand.  Neither  life,  nor  death,  nor  things 
present,  nor  things  to  come,  shall  be  able  to 
separate  them  from  his  love,  from  his  bo- 
som, from  bis  heart.  "  Happy  art  thou, 
O  Israel  !  who  is  like  unto  thee,  O  people 
saved  by  the  Lord  ?  who  is  the  shield  of  thy 
help,  and  the  sword  of  thy  excellency. 
The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and  under- 
neath are  the  everlasting  arms  ;  surely  then 
thou  mayest  dwell  in  safety."  Deut.  xxxiii. 
27,  &c.  Are  we  unworthy  sinners  ?  We 
readily  own  it,  and  oh  that  we  may  deeply 
feel  it  !  But  did  not  Christ  choose  to  con- 
verse with  publicans  and  sinners?  Did  he 
not  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was 
lost?  The  same  spirit  which  actuated  him 


on  earth  he  retains  now  he  is  exalted  into 
heaven ;  let  not  therefore  our  deplorable 
vileness  be  our  hinderance,  but  our  incite- 
ment to  apply  to  the  ever-gracious  Friend 
of  sinners.  Indeed,  if  we  were  i;ot  sinners, 
we  should  not  be  pro;ier  objects  for  the 
Saviour.  "  They  that  are  whole  need  not 
a  physician,  but  they  tiiat  are  sick  ;"  for 
such  he  made  his  soul  au  ouering,  and  for 
such  he  brought  in  everlasting  righteous- 
ness ;  he  makes  intercession,  not  for  the 
righteous,  but  for  tiansgressors  ;  and  those 
that  are  afar  off,  in  rebellion  and  apostasy, 
are  brought  nigh  ;  nigh  to  God,  and  home 
to  heaven,  by  the  blood  of  Christ. 

May  these  considerations  sink  into  our 
hearts,  and  be  made  the  seed  of  a  lively, 
growing,  and  joyful  faith  !  And  "  may 
the  Lord  direct"  us  both  (as  we  both  groan 
in  this  tabernacle,  and  are  burdened)  "  into 
the  love  of  God,  and  the  patient  waiting  for 
of  Jesus  !"  when  this  languishing,  this  cor- 
ruptible body  will  lie  down  in  peace,  and 
rest  in  hope  ;  and  the  soul,  delivered  from 
every  conflict,  cleansed  from  every  stain, 
will  be  ever,  for  ever  with  the  Lord. 
Amen  and  amen,  says  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CLIL 

Weston-FaveU,  Dec.  15,  1755. 
My  df.au  FiiiEND, — I  return  you  my 
best  thanks  iur  sending  me  a  copy  of  so 
smart  and  sensible  a  letter,  which  came  to 
me  very  a-propos  ;  and  which  I  think  is  so 
likely  to  do  good  in  this  disputatious  age, 
that  I  wish  it  was  printed  in  some  of  the 
magazines  and  public  papers.  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  caution  against 
my  being  drawn  into  a  controversy,  parti- 
cularly by  the  very   warm   and  overbearing 

Mr.  ,  who  is  now  grown  impatient  of 

the  least  contradiction,  and  far  from  being 
a  desirable  companion  or  correspondent. 

Controversy  is  as  much  my  aversion  as 
it  can  be  yours  ;  for  where  that  begins,  re- 
ligion too  often  ends  ;  and  1  shall  not  enter 
the  lists,  I  promise  you,  with  any  one,  un- 
less I  am  absolutely  necessitated  to  it. 
But  if  I  am  compelled  to  appear  in  print 
on  such  an  occasion,  I  shall  endeavour  to 
pay  due  regard  to  Solomon's  excellent  ad- 
vice, vi.^.  "  A  soft  answer  turneth  away 
wrath,  but  grievous  words  stir  up  anger," 
Piov.  XV.  1.  Instead  of  exasperating  my 
adversary  by  cutting  reprehensions,  I  will, 
if  possible,  constrain  him,  by  a  candid  and 
respectful  treatment,  to  moderate  his  tem- 
per ;  and,  by  a  coercive  propriety  of  argu- 
ments, persuade  him  to  relinquish  such 
tenets  as  I  think  erroneous. 

God  giMut  that  I  may  never  behave  witJi 
an  indecent  resentment,  how  great   soever 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTCKS. 


875 


TTiay  be  the  provocation  of  iny  gainsayers  ; 
l)ut  that,  in  ;ill  my  writings  and  conversa- 
tions, I  may  avoid  the  hasty  spirit,  lest  I 
ifijure  my  own  peace  of  mind,  and  disgrace 
my  profession  as  a  Christian  and  a  mi- 
nister. 

It  is  a  rule  with  me  always  to  speak  well 
of  the  good  qualities  even  of  bad  men, 
o'^pocially  when  others  are  censuring  them 
witii  an  uiHTierciful  severity  ;  and  I  could 
wish  tliat  every  controversialist  would  learn 
so  much  candour,  as  to  put  the  best  con- 
struction on  his  opponent's  book,  and  to 
embrace  what  was  in  general  good  in  it, 
however  he  might  doul'tt  or  censure  some 
particidar  opinions  of  the  contending  au- 
thor. 

To  live  peaceably  with  all  men  is  my 
earnest  desire  and  my  daily  prayer ;  and, 
in  order  to  do  this,  I  am  more  and  more 
convinced  of  the  necessity  of  candour, 
humility,  and  a  conscientious  regard  to  the 
example  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ.  1  am,  my  dear  friend,  affectionate- 
ly and  inviolably  yours. 


A  Copy  of  the  Letter  above-mentioned,  never 
before  Printed. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  a  strong  and  settled 
aversion  to  all  matter  of  dispute,  in  things 
that  relate  to  a  message  of  perfect  peace 
and  love.  The  kingdom  of  God  is  no 
more  opinion,  than  it  is  meat  and  drink ; 
and  argumentation  can  have  little  to  do 
where  a  new  heart,  and  a  right  spirit,  is 
the  business  or  work  to  be  performed. 

If  we  prevail  in  our  disputes,  (though  I 
believe  there  is  not  a  single  instance  in 
which  either  of  the  antagonists  ever  con- 
descended publicly  to  OM'ii  himself  in  the 
wrong,)  our  adversaries  then  become  baf- 
fled worldlings  ;  if  they  prevail,  then  tliey 
become  worldlings  triumphant.  When  we 
deal  much  in  disputes,  we  soil  our  souls, 
and  endanger  the  temper  of  meekness  and 
love,  which  we  are  so  frequently  enjoined 
to  cultivate,  and  which  are  the  very  badge  of 
Christianity. 

As  for  amicable  disputes  in  religion,  it  is 
as  errant  cant  as  an  amicable  suit  at  law. 
A  dispute  about  the  sacrament  as  naturally 
removes  the  mind  out  of  its  state  of  perfect 
charity,  as  a  quarrel  about  a  whoi-e.  Tlie 
subject  alters  nothing ;  it  is  the  temper  of 
mind  wherewitli  we  handle  tiiese  matters 
that  deiiies  the  man  ;  and  it  is  morally  im- 
possible to  meddle  to  any  purpose,  without 
having  the  mind  disordered. 

St.  Paul  was  jjlainly  of  the  .same  opinion, 
wlien  he  wrote  thus  to  Timothy ;  "  If  any 
man  consent  not  to  wholesome  \\ord*;,  even 
the  wonl.-^  of  our   Lord   Jesus  Christ,  aixl 


to  the  doctrine  which  is  acco-ding  to  godli- 
ness, he  is  proud,  knowing  nothing,  but 
doting  about  questions  and  strifes  of  words, 
whereof  cometh  envy,  strife,  railings,  and 
surmises,  perverse  disputings  of  men  of 
corrupt  minds,  and  destitute  of  the  truth, 
supposing  that  gain  is  godliness :  from 
such  withdraw  thyself- "  I  Tim.  vi. 
3—5. 

This  is  the  constant  case  of  all  tlie  dis- 
puters  in  the  gospel  itself.  The  more  they 
argued,  the  further  they  were  always  from 
the  point ;  insomuch  that  even  those  who 
are  said  to  believe  on  Christ,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  chapter  of  dispute,  before  the 
end  of  it  take  up  stones  to  cast  at  him. 

In  short,  till  a  man  be  a  Christian  in 
some  measure,  he  has  neither  ability,  nor 
any  right  in  nature  to  talk  about  it.  It  is 
more  absurd  than  a  controversy  between  a 
fish  and  a  fowl,  about  the  best  and  most 
commodious  element  to  breathe  in. 

The  peace  and  purity  of  our  own  minds, 
U  of  more  value  than  of  every  other  endow- 
ment. P^or  my  own  part,  1  had  rather  he 
able  to  bear  patiently  the  nickname  of  fool, 
or  madman,  than  to  become  famous  for  all 
the  wisdom  and  prudence  which  the  world 
knows  how  to  commend  and  esteem. 

In  this  poverty  of  spirit,  I  woidd  heartily 
entreat  all  my  friends  earnestly  to  seek 
after  that  love  and  peace,  which  is  only  to 
be  found  in  the  face  or  similitude  of  our 
dear  blaster,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  The 
want  of  tliis  most  amiable  and  Christian 
disposition  in  some  eminent  professors,  for 
I  never  admired  a  rough  and  boisterous 
zeal,  has  often  startled  and  shagrined  him 
who  is,  dear  sir,  yours  very  sincerely, 

R.  W. 

P.  S — We  may  talk  what  we  will  about 
religion,  it  is  nothing  less  than  a  divine 
temper.  What  is  short  of  this  is  pratinij 
about  religion,  and  that  is  all.  I  meet 
with  many  doctrinal  Christians,  who  are 
very  dabs  at  cha])ter  and  verse,  and  yet  very 
bond-slaves  to  earth  and  self.  Spiritual 
Christians  (which  are  the  only  true  ones) 
are  almost  as  scarce  as  phcenixes. 


LETTER  CLIIL 

Satnrday  morning. 
My  dfar  Friexd. — Let  nie  c.vhort  you 
to  live  as  on  the  borders  of  eternity,  and 
often  to  reflect  where  the  late  fall  from 
your  horse  might  have  hurried  you.  Eter- 
nity is  at  hand.  "  He  that  cometh  will 
come,  and  will  not  tarry."  O  tliat  your 
soul  may  prosper !  for  without  that,  what 
are  all  tlie  riclu's,  pleasures,  and  honours  of 
this  earth  ?     lint  it  cannot  prosjici',   unless 


876 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


the  world  be  under  foot,  and  your  affec- 
tions lixed  on  Jesus.  What  besides  him, 
my  dear  friend,  deserves  a  thought?  And 
how  tenderly  has  he  dealt  with  us,  not- 
withstanding all  our  ingratitude  and  pro- 
vocations ?  I  can  say  no  more  than  I 
have  said  to  you  ;  but  I  ])ity  you,  and  I 
pray  for  you,  that  you  may  conquer  this 
fear  of  man.  I  wish  you  would  every  day, 
for  the  next  month,  read  some  part  of  Pro- 
fessor Franck's  Nicodemus,  or,   The  Fear 

of  Man.     Dr. told  me  he  had  a  great 

regard  for  you,  and  wished  you  would  set 
your  face  as  a  flint ;  exert  your  lively  ta- 
lents to  promote  the  gospel,  and  confess  the 
Lord  Jesus  boldly  before  men  on  every  pro- 
per occasion  :  and  when  they  talk  obscenely, 
or  take  the  Lord's  name  in  vain,  you  ought 
genteelly  to  reprove  them,  or  leave  the 
company.  This  would  be  acting  like  a 
Christian  !  But  while  you  are  thus  silent, 
meally-mouthed,  stand  so  much  upon  your 
politeness,  and  have  such  a  fear  of  being 
censured  by  worldly-minded  people,  you 
may  take  my  word  for  it,  you  will  do  very 
little  good,  and  be  a  stranger  to  the  com- 
fort and  peace  which  others,  who  stick 
closer  to  Christ,  daily  experience ;  that 
comfortable  peace  of  God,  which  (as  Arch- 
bishop Seeker  finely  observes,  page  1.S2  of 
his  Nine  Sermons)  is  that  sense  of  being 
in  friendship  with  him,  that  feeling  of  com- 
fort and  joy  flowing  from  him,  which  pass- 
eth  all  understanding  ;  exceeds  the  concep- 
tion of  those  who  have  not  experienced  it, 
and  will  exceed  hereafter  the  present  con- 
ceptions of  those  who  have.  Adieu,  my 
dear  friend.  Think  well  on  what  the 
Archbishop  has  so  pathetically  described, 
and  then  meditate  on  this  alarming  text, 
and  reconcile  it  with  your  own  pusillani- 
mous conduct,  which  you  miscall  prudence  : 
"  Whosoever  shall  be  ashamed  of  me  and 
niy  words  in  this  adulterous  and  sinful  ge- 
neration, of  him  also  shall  the  Son  of  man 
be  ashamed,  when  he  cometh  in  the  glory 
of  his  Father  with  his  holy  angels,"  Jlark 
viii.  38.  Once  more  adieu  !  Remember 
that  this  is  the  declaration  of  the  Lord  who 
bought  us  with  his  blood,  and  suffered  the 
unknown  agonies  of  crucifixion  to  save  you, 
and  yours  very  sincerely. 

P.  S. — When  people  come  to  visit 
me,  they  expect  to  hear  of  Christ ;  and 
few  come  to  Weston  but  those  to  whom 
such  discourse  is  agreeable,  nor  do  I  desire 
the  company  of  any  others.  Talking  of 
Christ  is  my  touchstone,  to  see  whether  a 
])erson  is  worth  my  acquaintance.  It  vou 
>vas  once  to  take  this  method,  you  will  tell 
me,  perhaps,  that  such  and  such  a  one  will 
abuse  you,  and  all  the  principal  gentlemen 
vjill  ridicule  and  forsake  you.  And  what 
then  ?  You  are  much  better  without  them. 
In  their  stead  you  will  have  the  esteem  and 


friendship  of  those  who  love  our  Lord 
Jesus  in  sincerity  ;  and  Christ  himself  mil 
be  in  the  midst,  who  has  laid  up  for  you, 
and  all  such  as  love  his  appearing,  a  crown 
of  righteousness.  Has  this  consideration 
no  weight  with  my  dear  friend  ?  Do  not 
let  me  apply  to  you  what  saint  Paul  says  of 
Demas  to  Timothy,  chap.  iv.  10.  "  De- 
mas  has  forsaken  me,  having  loved  this  pre- 
sent woild."  Read  the  cxixth  Psalm,  and 
see  whether  you  and  your  worldlv-wise 
company  have  the  .spirit  of  the  Psalmist. 
He,  though  a  king,  delighted  to  talk  of 
God.  He  not  only  talked  of  him,  observe, 
but  delighted  to  do  it ;  and  it  was  pain 
and  grief  to  him  to  forbear.  Psalm 
x.\xix.  y. 


LETTER  CLIV. 

Saturday  morning. 

Dear  Sir, — In  reply  to  your  question, 
"  Why  so  many  learned  and  very  clever 
men  in  all  worldly  aflfairs  should  treat  reli- 
gion with  so  much  indifference,  and  remain 
unaffected  by  every  argument  that  can  be 
urged  to  rouse  them  from  such  a  state  of 
delusion  ?"  I  send  you  my  opinion  in  a  few 
words,  viz.  "  Because  they  do  not  pray  for 
the  assistance*  of  the  Holy  Spirit."  And 
I  send  you  an  answer  more  at  large,  ex- 
tracted trom  a  book  of  the  celebrated  Dr. 
Bates,  which  I  was  lately  reading,  entitled, 
"  The  sovereign  and  final  happiness 
OF  MAN,  with  the  effectual  means  to  ob- 
tain it."t 

"  The  efficacious  influence,"  says  the 
Doctor,  "  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  requisite 
to  change  the  will,  that  with  a  free  and 
full  consent,  our  will  may  desire  and  pro- 
secute the  spiritual,  eternal  good.  Without 
this,  the  conviction  of  the  mind  is  not  pow- 
erful enough  to  convert  the  soul  from  the 
love  of  the  world  to  choose  heaven.  There 
may  be  an  enlightened  conscience  without 
a  renewed  heart.  Though  the  judgment 
assents  that  God  is  the  supreme  good ;  yet 
till  the  heart  be  circumcised,  and  the  sen- 
suality of  the  aflfections  taken  away,  divine 
love  (which  directs  om  life  to  God  as  our 
blessed  end)  can  never  possess  it. 

"  If  men  had  a  sensible  and  strong  as- 
surance of  the  eternal  state  hereafter  ;  if  all 
those  who  lived  godly  in  a  visible  manner 
ascended  with  Elias  to  heaven ;  and  if  all 
who  continued  in  their  sins  visibly  descend- 
ed into  hell  (as  Corah  and  his  company 
were  swallowed  up  alive  by  the  earth  before 


*  See  Christ's  own  words,  Luke  xi.1-3,  which  the 
generality  of  mankind  disregard:  no  wonder,  then, 
the  world  should  lieso  muchindarkness,  and  be  thus 
dead  to  vital  relifiion. 

t.See  Dr.  B&ie'i.  Works,  folio,  p.  •wh- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


877 


the  Israelites)  ;  if  men  rould  beiir  the  joy- 
ful exultations  of  the  saints  above,  and  their 
high  praises  of  God;  then  hear  the  despe- 
rate c-ries  and  deep  complaints  of  the  damn- 
ed ;  nay,  if  one,  according  to  the  desire  of 
the  rich  man,  was  sent  from  the  doleful 
regions  below,  and  with  his  fiery  tongue 
should  preach  a  sermon  on  those  torments, 
not  describing  them  at  a  distance,  but  by 
a  sensible  demonstration  in  himself;  yet 
THIS  ALONE  would  not  be  sufficient  to  draw 
off  men's  hearts  from  the  deceitful  and 
transitory  ha])piness  of  this  world,  and  to 
fasten  them  on  the  perfect  and  eternal  hap- 
piness in  the  next.  Indeed,  they  could  not 
then  indulge  their  vices  so  securely ;  but 
yet  they  would  be  strangers  to  the  life  of 
God,  such  an  inveterate  alienation  of  heart 
is  in  men  from  real  holiness  :  for  till  the 
quickening  Spirit  of  God  (by  a  directing 
persuasive  light,  that  represents  the  truth 
and  goodness  of  spiritual  things)  transforms 
the  soul,  and  makes  it  spiritual  in  its  valua- 
tions and  affections,  it  is  inwardly  averse 
from  grace  and  glory. 

"  How  earnestly  therefore  ought  we  all 
TO  PRAY,  that  this  Holy  Spirit  may  direct 
our  hearts  to  the  love  of  God,  and  to  the 
patient  waiting  for  of  Christ  Jesus,  when  he 
shall  come  to  be  glorified  in  his  faithful  ser- 
vants, and  admired  in  all  them  that  believe!" 

In  another  place.  Dr.  Bates  expresses 
himself  in  these  very  momentous  terms : 
"  Worldly  men,  when  death  is  near,  are  not 
so  much  affected  with  the  loss  of  the  crown 
of  glory,  and  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  as 
with  their  leaving  the  present  world,  and 
its  vanities.  This  makes  death  intolerably 
bitter.  In  short,  till  the  love  of  God  in- 
flames and  purifies  the  heart,  the  fruition 
of  his  glory  is  not  esteemed  nor  desired." 

Your  question  will  be  still  further  an- 
swered, by  considering  thoroughly  two 
tracts,  wrote  by  Professor  Franck  ;  one  of 
which  is  entitled,  A  short  Introduction  to 
the  practice  of  the  Christian  Religion  ;  and 
the  other  is  entitled,  ISJicodemus,  or,  A 
treatise  against  the  P'ear  of  Man  ;  wherein 
the  causes  and  sad  effects  thereof  are  briefly 
described,  with  some  remedies  against  it, 
dedicated  to  the  honourable  society  for  re- 
formation of  manners. 

And  now  having  mentioTied  Professor 
Franck,  and  his  treatise  against  the  fear  of 
man,  I  caimot  conclude  without  observing, 
that  I  think  him  one  of  the  most  eminent 
Christians,  and  most  extraordinary  men  I 
ever  heard  of,  as  his  Pietas  Hallensis,  which 
1  read  with  admiration  and  deep  humility, 
sufficiently  demonstrates ;  and  had  I  been 
a  member  of  the  society  for  reformation  of 
manners,  when  the  dedication  of  his  Nico- 
demus  had  been  presented  to  them,  I  should 
have  made  a  motion  to  have  had  an  hundred 
pounds   expended  in  a  proper  distribution 


of  that  most  important  book,  as  tliero  can 
be  no  material  reformation  till  the  fear  ot 
man  is  removed ;  and  as  nothing  can  be 
better  calculated  to  extirpate  such  fear,  and 
promote  all  the  other  laudable  ends  of  the 
society.      I  am,  dear  sir,  yours,  &c. 

P.  S The  title  of  the  book  I  recom- 
mended to  your  son,  please  to  tell  him,  was 
Henry's  Pleasantness  of  a  Religious  Life. 
The  author  designed  it  particularly  for 
young  people  ;  and  in  my  conversation  with 
them,  I  generally  mention  it.  Indeed,  I 
am  the  more  solicitous  of  having  it  put  into 
their  hands,  as  they  are  too  apt  to  look 
upon  religion  in  a  gloomy  view,  considering 
it  as  destructive  of  every  enjoyment- 


LETTER  CLY. 

Weston-Fdvell,  Feb.  22. 
My  dear  Friend, — The  three  volumes 
of  Theron  and  Aspasio  desire  you  first  to 
accept  them,  then  freely  to  animadvert  upon 
them ;  and  above  all,  to  implore  the  bless- 
ing of  God  for  them.  I  think,  when  peo- 
ple's sentiments  differ  so  excessively  as  Mr. 
's  iind  mine,  it  is  best  to  be  at  a  dis- 
tance.     O  may  we  all  be  kept  close  to  our 


divine  Head  ;  and,  in  a  little  time,  that 
which  is  imperfect  will  be  done  away.  We 
shall  see  him  as  he  is,  and  know  as  we  are 
known.  I  hope  you  prosper  in  your  health, 
and  are  blessed  in  your  ministerial  labours. 
The    book   you   inquire   after,  which  Mr. 

saw  in  my  study  window  at  Weston, 

and  described  to  you  as  a  well  thumbed 
Lilliputian  of  two  or  three  inches  high, 
was  written  by  one  Mr.  Bogatzky,  a  Ger- 
man ;  in  which  language  it  passed  nineteen 
editions,  from  which  it  is  now  translated, 
and  entitled,  "  The  Golden  Treasury  for 
the  Children  of  God,  whose  treasure  and 
hearts  are  in  heaven  ;"  containing  select 
texts  of  the  Bible,  with  practical  observa- 
tions in  prose  and  verse,  for  eveiy  day  in 
the  year.  It  is  pretty  well  thumbed,  for 
there  is  rarely  a  day  passes  that  I  do  not 
make  use  of  it ;  and  particularly  when  I  am 
so  languid  as  to  be  incaj)able  of  attending 
to  my  usual  studies.  The  author  very 
properly  calls  it  "  A  Golden  Treasury  for 
the  C'hildrcn  of  (»od,"  who  esteem  the 
word  of  God  more  than  gold,  and  much 
fine  gold,  and  from  which  they  may  be  daily 
supplied  with  proper  advice  and  relief  in 
all  manner  of  spiritual  necessities,  as  thou- 
sands have  happily  experienced  already. 
The  verses  are  elegant,  and  edifying  on 
most  of  the  subjects  ;  and  it  was  his  earnest 
desire  and  prayer,  that  the  Lord,  in  his 
infinite  goodness,  would  please  to  bless  his 
endeavours  to  the  good  of  many  souls,  and 
to  the  glory  of  his  holy  name.      Mr.    Bo- 


878 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


gatzky  observes  judiciously,  tliat  it  is  not 
to  be  expected  tliat  a  pertormance  of  this 
nature  will  suit  the  taste  of  tliose  who  un- 
happily mistake  mere  outward  morality  for 
true  Christianity,  and  go  no  farther  than 
natural  reason  and  strength  will  carry  them  : 
but  such  as  either  have,  or  desire  to  have, 
a  real  experience  of  the  kingdom  of  God 
in  their  souls,  will  find  much  in  it  to  the 
awakening,  comforting,  and  encouraging 
their  hearts  in  the  right  way. 

That  we  may  know,  and  ever  continue 
in  that  right  way,  is,  my  dear  friend,  the 
frequent  and  ardent  prayer  of  your  affec- 
tionate brother  in  Christ. 


LETTER  CLVL 

Weilnesdaij  morninp. 
Dear  Sir, — The  grievance  you  com- 
plain of,  is,  like  many  other  grievances, 
irremediable  ;  for,  according  to  the  old 
proverb,  What  is  every  one's  business,  is 
no  one's.  It  is  the  same  in  numberless 
instances.  How  many  turnpikes  are  erect- 
ed, where  the  money  taken  will  scarce  de 
fray  the  expense  of  the  gates  ;  and  where 
the  roads  neither  are,  nor  ever  will  he  mend- 
ed, and  consequently  they  are  nuisaiices 
instead  of  benefits  ?  yet  our  nobility  aiid 
members  of  parliament  pass  frequently 
through  such  turnpikes,  comjilain  of  the 
grievance,  but  take  no  pains  to  redress  it. 
And  even  in  an  affair  of  the  highest  con- 
sequence, how  negligent  is  the  community? 
I  mean,  in  the  long  expected  reformation 
of  our  Liturgy  ;  in  which,  excellent  as  it  is 
upon  the  whole,  there  are  some  passages 
so  justly  exceptionable,  that  every  bishoj) 
in  the  kingdom  will  tell  you  he  wishes  to 
have  them  expunged  ;  and  yet,  I  know  not 
for  what  political  or  timid  reasons,  it  con- 
tinues just  as  it  did.  Had  our  first  refor- 
mers been  thus  indolent,  we  still  had  been 
papists.  Our  laws  are  daily  complained 
of,  and  might  most  certainly  be  abridged  to 
the  great  benefit  of  the  nation  ;  this  is  al- 
lowed by  every  individual ;  but  the  parlia- 
ment, you  see,  will  not  exert  themselves  in 
bringing  this  important  affair  to  pass. 

I  have  often  wondered,  that  in  this  age 
of  humanity,  (for  such  with  all  its  faults  it 
certainly  isj,  while  infirmaries  are  erecting 
in  different  parts  of  the  kingdom,  public 
bridges  building,  and  large  collections  mak- 
ing for  charitable  uses,  there  should  be  no 
societies  established  for  redressing  griev- 
ances. To  found  such  kind  of  societies, 
would  be  truly  laudable  and  highly  benefi- 
cial. May  God  of  his  infinite  goodness 
and  unerring  wisdom,  put  it  into  the  hearts 
of  the  active,  the  benevolent,  and  the 
powerful,  to  set  in  good  earnest  about  the 


institution  of  societies  for  the  redressing  our 
grievances,  some  for  pidjlic  andothers  for  pri- 
vate grievances.  'Were  snch  once  established, 
what  a  world  of  good  might  be  done ! 
Then  the  fatherless,  the  Avidow,  and  the 
injured,  would  have  suV)^tantial  friends  al- 
ways at  hand,  who  would  rescue  them  from 
their  oppressors,  by  taking  them  under  their 
own  protection,  and  defending  their  cause 
out  of  the  subscription  fund.  From  these 
funds  likewise,  the  expense  of  procuring 
useful  acts  of  parliament,  or  of  getting  inef- 
fectual ones  amended  or  repealed,  might  be 
defrayed. 

I  know  you  will  be  pleased  to  hear  that 

^Ir. has  lately  wrote  very  seriously  to 

Air.  about  his  religious  concerns,  and 

pressed  him  strongly  "  to  determin'E  (as 
liis  expression  Avas),  and  set  about  religion 
in  good  earnest."  "  Pra\-,  dear  s:r,"  said  he 
in  one  part  of  his  letter,  "  take  care,  and 
do  not  huiry  away  life.  Give  that  affair  a 
serious  thought;  I  am  sure  it  is  woith  it. 
I  wish  you  well,  (sorry  aui  I  to  say  1  think) 
better  than  perhaps  you  wish  yourself.  I 
should  be  glad  to  be  mistaken.  Would  to 
God  I  could  persuade  you  resolutely  to  fall 
in  love  with  religion,  and  espouse  its  cause 
with  all  your  interest,  and  with  all  yoisr 
might.  Was  that  once  and  thoroughly  to 
be  the  case,  what  an  instrument  might  not 
vou  be,  in  the  hand  of  God,  to  rouse  men 
from  their  lethargy  ;  to  animate  them  in 
the  pursuit  of  their  own  eternal  welfare  ; 
and  to  encourage  their  zeal  for  that  of 
others  ?  Oh  !  sir,  a  man  with  your  capa- 
city, your  fortune,  your  opportunities,  what 
could  there  be  too  hard  for  him,  except 
himself?  By  your  irresistible  arguments 
and  spirited  behaviour,  you  knock  down 
others  on  every  occasion,  and  carry  almost 
every  point  you  undertake:  why  do  not  you 
knock  down  yourself?     Aude  sapere,  incipe. 

"  What  conscience  dictates  to  be  done. 
Or  warns  you  not  to  do. 
This,  as  your  hell,  wiih  horror  shun. 
That,  as  your  heavc-u,  pursue." 

Popii's  Vidvei-sat  Prar/er. 

In  another  part  of  his  letter  he  thus  in- 
terrogated   ]\Ir. "    Will   not  every 

wise  man  frequently  ask  himself  some  such 
questions  as  these?     Am  I,  or  am  I  not  in 
\  the  right  road?     How  long  shall  I  lii;lt  be- 
!  tween  two  opinions  ?   Is  not  to-day  certain, 
and  to-morrow  uncertain?     Am  I  ashamed 
:  of  being  religious  ?   Have  I  courage  to  stand 
'  it    out  against    God  and   not    against    the 
world  ?     Do  I  take  proper  care  of  my  chil- 
dren's  religious   principles  ?     If  I  destroy 
myself,   sh:di    I  desiroy  my  offspring  too, 
and  eternally  ?" 

i       Towards  the  conclusion  he  added,  "  You 

have  recommended  several  books  to  me,  let 

me  recommend  lUuier's  Representation  of 

:  Revealed  Reh>ioij  to  you,  though,  if  I  \«'i« 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


879 


to    advise  Jlr.  ,  it  should  not  be  'Jo 

RKAD,  but  TO  DETEUMiNE ;  ix'solutely  and 
unalteral)ly  to  detkrminf.  to  be  a  religious 
man.  You  want  no  instructions,  and  the 
time  of  life  with  you  is  gone  a  great  way. 
Some  ])cople,  I  can  tell  you,  suspect  you 
for  a  IJeist ;  if  you  are  so,  I  then  ask,  Do 
you  act  devoutly  on  your  own  princii)les  ? 
Do  you  pray  to  God  daily  ?  This  every 
Deist  will  allow  to  be  necessaiy  ;  and,  till 
you  have  liabituated  your  mind  to  prayer, 
I  shall  have  little  expectations  of  doing  you 
that  important  service,  which  you  must  be 
sensible  by  my  writing  this  letter  lam  very 
desirous  of  doing,  as  far  as  in  me  lies.  1  he 
rest  must  be  left  to  a  superior  agency,  I 
mean  the  operation  of  God's  Holy  Spii-it 
on  your  heart." 

No  answer  has  yet  been  returned  by  Mr. 

to  this  letter.     I  believe  he  is  puzzled 

how  to  act.  He  cannot  well  pass  it  by  in 
silence  ;  and  to  give  any  thing  under  his 
hand  on  so  interesting  a  subject  as  religion, 
will  be  to  a  man  of  his  turn  very  ineli- 
gible. 

You  see  by  the  papers,  that  our  great  wit 
is  dead.  Is  it  not  a  little  remarkable,  that 
so  long  before  his  death  ho  should  be  de- 
prived of  his  senses?  deprived  of  them  at 
the  very  time  he  was  about  writing  a  most 
pernicious  book,  which,  I  am  told,  he  in- 
tended to  have  published  with  this  ludicrous 
title,  viz.  "  The  IVIemoirs  of  the  Rev.  JMr. 
Jephtha  Quixote,  Saint  Errant ;  the  true 
and  undoubted  son  of  the  renowned  Don 
Quixote,  Knight-Errant ;  who  inherits  all 
his  father's  \'irtues."  The  design  of  which 
was  to  burlesque  things  sacred,  and  to  set 
in  a  ridiculous  light  some  of  the  most  exem- 
plary Christians,  imder  the  notion  of  saint- 
errantry.  This  would  have  been  a  most 
malicious  piece  of  wit ;  and  being  the  jiro- 
duction  of  so  celebrated  a  genius,  would 
have  spread  like  wildfire,  pregnant  with  in- 
finite mischief;  for,  as  Horace  has  justly 
remarked, 

■"  For  ridicule  shall  frequently  prevail, 
And  cut  the  knot  when  graver  reasons  fail." 

l''itANCis'  Hoi: 

When  you  reflect  on  this  and  other  at- 
tempts to  discourage  good  men,  and  to  ren- 
der religion  contemptible  in  the  eyes  of 
worldlings,  are  you  not  apt  to  sny  with  the 
Psalmist,  "  The  Lord  that  dwelleth  in 
heaven  shall  laugh  them  to  scorn  ?"  Psal.  ii. 
4.  He,  though  unseen,  directs  the  whole 
by  his  wise  providence ;  turneth  men's 
hearts  as  seemeth  good  unto  him  ;  and  in 
his  hands  are  the  appointments  of  life  and 
<leath.  To  his  cuidaricc  and  to  his  jjrotec- 
tion  I  commend  you,  my  dear  sir,  and  yours 
very  sincerely. 


LETTER  CLVII. 


Westcn,  1756. 
Dear  Sir, — I  confess  I  am  covetous, 
and,  like  covetous  people,  unreasonable  ;  I 
was  in  hope  of  receiving  another  favour 
from  your  pen,  before  I  troubled  you  with 
a  fresh  solicitation.  Rut  an  aiJair  has  lately 
happened,  or  rather  a  project  has  started  in 
my  mind,  which  I  will  lay  before  you.  On 
Sunday  last  a  neighbouring  clergyman  sent 
me  for  my  perusal,  a  sermon  preached  by 

Dr.  T ,  before  the  House  of  Commons, 

on  the  late*  public  fast.  When  I  perused 
it,  and  saw  not  a  single  mention  of  Christ, 
nor  a  single  hint  of  an  evangelical  nature,  I 
was  surprised  and  grieved  ;  and  so  much 
the  more,  as  it  was  preached  by  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  divines  in  the  kingdom,  and 
before  the  whole  kingdom  convened  in  their 
representatives.  I  thought  it  was  a  pity, 
that  such  a  notorious  slight,  put  upon  onr 
most  glorious  Redeemer,  should  pass 
without  animadversions.  I  could  not  for- 
bear wishing  that  the  Lord  would  enable 
me,  even  me,  (the  least  and  weakest  in  my 
heavenly  Father's  house,)  to  bear  my  testi- 
mony for  Jesus  who  wa.s  crucified.  I 
therefore  conceived  some  thoughts  of  pub- 
lishing a  sermon  preached  at  Weston,  upon 
a  subject  somewhat  similar  to  his ;  for 
though  mine  is  designedly  plain,  and  desti- 
tute of  the  polite  Doctor's  embellishments, 
yet  it  has  more  of  Christ  and  his  gospel. 
I  also  apprehend,  if  to  this  were  prefixed  or 
subjoined  some  remarks  upon  the  Doctor's 
performance,  it  might  not  be  imscasonable 
nor  unprofitable.  Now,  my  dear  friend,  if 
you  approve  the  design,  would  you  draw  up 
some  remarks  upon  the  Doctor's  discourse, 
while  I  am  endeavouring  to  retrieve  my 
sermon  from  a  few  hints,  which  I  happened 
on  that  occasion  to  put  down  in  short- 
hand V  I  will  own  to  you,  my  heart  almost 
trembles  at  the  prospect  of  appearing  in 
print  against  so  eminent  a  man.  And  if 
you  do  not  think  it  {)roper  to  be  my  helper 
and  abettor,  I  must  drop  the  design.  May 
the  Lord  Jesus,  whose  honour  is  concerned, 
whose  blood  and  righteousness,  whose  spi- 
rit and  grace  have  been  disregarded,  and 
treated  as  ciphers  ;  may  he  direct  your  de- 
termination, fructify  your  itivention,  give 
you  all  knov/ledge  and  all  utterance  I  What 
think  you  of  tiiis  method  of  i)ioceeding  ? 
Making  remarks  ui)ou  the  evangelical  pas- 
sages ;  pointing  out  the  places  where  an 
opjjortunity  ofl'ered  of  eidarging  upon  gos- 
pel topics  ;  exemplifying  this  gospel  man- 
ner, and  showing  that  it  would  be  no  pre- 
judice, but  give  infinite  weight  and  force  to 
the  argument.     Rut  I  leave  all  to  the  bless- 


•  The  pub:ic  fast  in  Febrii.-.vy  17j(i 


680 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS, 


ed  God,  and  my  dear  friend.  Your  last,  I 
think,  is  a  most  masterly  piece  of  contro- 
versy, for  which  I  am  your  debtor.  May 
you  now  be  enabled  to  outdo  yourself. 
The  subject  and  the  occasion  are  of  the 
last  importance  :  if  you  are  inclined  to  ex- 
ert yourself,  pray  let  it  be  in  the  courtly 
manner.  Your  last  pen  was  dipt  in  vinegar, 
let  this  be  dipt  in  oil. 

My  sermon  was  on  that  text,  Ezek.  xviii. 
27.  I  shall  wait,  with  incessant  prayer  to 
him  whose  name  is  Wonderful,  Counsel- 
lor, till  I  receive  your  answer ;  and  am 
most  afl'ectionately  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CLVIIL 

pWr.  Hervev's  friend,  on  considering  the  proposal  in 
the  preceding  letter,  wrote  the  following,  and  ad- 
dressed it  to  Dr.  T ,  the  preacher  of  the  fast 

sermon  in  1756,  on  Jer.  xviii.  7.  8.  It  is  here 
printed,  as  the  observations  therein  contained  may 
possibly  be  in  some  measure  p  oductive  of  the 
good  which  Mr.  Hervey  intended  by  such  like 
remarks.*] 

Reverend  Sir, — Some  time  ago  was 
put  into  my  hands  a  sermon  of  yours,  on 
Jer.  xviii.  7,  S,  preached  before  the  ho- 
nourable House  of  Commons  on  the  day  of 
the  late  public  fast;  wherein  I  thought  I 
saw  some  very  material  omissions  and  mis- 
takes, which  I  feared  might  hinder  the  suc- 
cess of  your  ingenious  performance ;  and 
therefore,  as  I  would  neither  have  you  to 
labour  in  vain,  nor  the  best  use  of  such 
alarming  calls  of  Divine  Providence  neg- 
lected, I  could  not  but  give  you  the  trouble 
of  a  letter  upon  this  occasion. 

Nothing  can  be  more  proper,  at  such 
seasons,  than  serious  discourses  upon  re- 
pentance and  reformation.  Times  of  afflic- 
tion are  most  likely  to  be  times  of  reflec- 
tion ;  and  when  it  pleases  the  Most  High 
thus  to  open  the  heart,  it  is  then  the  time 
for  his  servants  to  sow  the  good  seed  of  his 
word.  To  prepare  men  for  this,  God's 
judgments  fly  swift  as  the  light.  To  pre- 
pare men  for  this,  he  hews  by  his  prophets, 
and  slays  by  the  word  of  his  mouth  -.  and 
happy,  eternally  happy,  are  those  who  are 
influenced  thereby  to  return  from  their  evil 
ways,  and  to  make  their  ways  and  their 
doings  good  :  for  thus  runs  the  divine  pro- 
mise, "  At  what  instant  I  shall  speak  con- 
cerning a  nation,  and  concerning  a  kingdom, 
to  pluck  up,  and  to  pull  down,  and  to  de- 
stroy; if  that  nation  against  whom  I  have 
pronounced  this,  turn  from  their  evil,  I  will 
repent  of  the  evil  that  I  thought  to  do  unto 
ihem,"  Jer.  xviii.  7,  ^. 

Such  is  God's  gracious  declaration,  which 
no  gospel  minister  can  read,  but  it  must 
remind  him  of  two  things:    First,  that  this 


»  SeePreface  to  the  Letters,  p.  7^9. 


promise  is  made  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  tlicre- 
fore  can  belong  to  none  but  those  who  for- 
sake their  sins,  and  return  unto  God  by 
him  :  Then,  this  return  from  evil  must  be 
accomplished  through  the  grace  and  Spirit 
of  Christ.     And, 

First,  The  mention  of  this,  and  every 
other  promise  in  the  book  of  God,  must 
remind  the  gospel  minister  that  it  is  made 
in  Christ  Jesus.  St.  Paul  hath  assured 
us,  that  "  ail  the  promises  of  God  in  him 
are  yea"  (made),  "  and  in  him  amen"  (con- 
fiimed)  ;  and  if  all  the  promises  of  God  are 
made  and  confirmed  in  him,  then  this,  as 
one,  must  be  made  in  him.  The  Redeemer 
himself  has  informed  us,  that  "  he  is  the 
way,  aisd  the  truth,  and  the  life,"  and  that 
"  no  man  can  come  unto  the  Father  but  by 
him."  But  to  turn  from  evil,  and  to  come 
unto  the  Father,  are  terms  of  the  same  im- 
port. Besides,  we  know  that  it  is  only 
through  Jesus  Christ  that  we  have  peace 
with  God,  and  that  it  is  only  through  .Jesus 
Christ  that  God  has  reconciled  the  world  to 
himself.  Can  two  then  walk  together  ex- 
cept they  are  agreed?  Can  God  sheath 
the  sword  of  his  justice  before  he  is  recon- 
ciled to  us  ?  If  not,  how  can  he  repent  of 
the  evil  that  he  thought  to  do  unto  us? 
And  if  be  repents  not  of  the  evil  w  hich  he 
thought  to  do  unto  us,  where  is  our  interest 
in  the  promise  ?  But  what  need  of  any 
more  words,  when  it  is  most  evident  that 
it  is  the  Son  of  God  who  here  speaks  by 
the  prophet  ?  The  same  person  promises 
mercy,  who  had  threatened  to  destroy  with 
the  severest  judgments  :  Now  we  know 
that  "  the  Father  judges  no  man,  but  has 
committed  all  judgment  to  the  Son  ;  that 
all  men  should  honour  the  Son,  as  they 
honour  the  Father."  It  is  very  plain  then, 
that  all  who  return  from  evil,  must  return 
by  Christ ;  they  must  return  with  his  jirice 
in  their  hatids,  and  his  robe  upon  their 
backs  ;  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  they 
are  safe,  safe  for  time  and  eternity. 

Again,  when  the  gospel  minister  reads 
this  gracious  promise,  he  will  remember 
that  such  a  returning  from  evil  must  be  ac- 
complished through  the  grace  and  Spirit  of 
Christ.  How  can  we,  who  are  not  suffi- 
cient of  oiu'selves  to  think  a  good  thought 
of  ourselves,  think  of  returning  to  God  and 
holiness?  Can  the  captive,  who  is  in  love 
with  his  chains,  long  for  liberty  ?  Can  the 
sinner,  who  is  fond  of  his  sms,  desire  to 
relinquish  them  ?  No  ;  it  is  as  possible  for 
the  Ethiopian  to  change  his  skin,  or  the 
leopard  his  spots,  as  for  us,  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  do  evil,  to  learn  to  do  well.  Nay, 
far  more  possible ;  for  to  accomplish  this, 
they  need  only  to  change  their  hue  ;  but 
before  we  can  attain  to  holiness,  we  n  nst 
change  our  nature  ;  we  must  "  make  our- 
selves a  new  heart  and  a  new  spirit,"  Ezek. 


A   COLi.E('TION  OF  LETTEI'xS. 


861 


xviii.  51.  ;  we  must  quit  tlie  pnive,  atirl 
nri«e  from  the  <i<;uil,  ami  who  is  suflieieii: 
for  these  thiiiijs  ?  Therefore  the  Master 
sHVs,  '•  No  man  can  come  unto  me,  excej)! 
the  leather,  which  has  sent  ine,  draw  him." 
Ami  a^ain,  '•  Ye  h.ive  tiot  chosen  ine,  but 
1  liave  chosen  you,  ami  have  oidawied  you 
to  hring  forth  fruit,  and  that  your  fruit 
should  remum  :  For  without  me  ye  can  do 
nothiiii,'."  And  his  apostles  assert,  that 
"  hy  f^fixce  we  are  saved  throuirh  faith,  and 
that  not  of  ourselves,  it  is  tlie  gift  of  God  ;" 
tii.it  every  grace  is  tlie  fruit  of  his  Spirit,  of 
wliose  fulness  we  have  received,  and  grace 
f'.ir  grace;  and  that  "  we  are  created  anew 
unto  uood  works,  which  God  had  before 
ordained,  that  we  should  walk  in  them." 

Now,  sir,  are  these  the  tine  sayings  of 
(lod  ?  are  tliese  the  very  words  of  our  Lord 
and  his  apostles?  Then,  undoubtedly,  to 
refuse  them  is  to  refuse  him  who  speaks 
from  heaven  :  and  if  so,  how  comes  it  to 
pass,  that  you  have  unhappily  forgot  to  take 
notice  of  these  things  upon  this  solemn  oc- 
casion ?  Ciod  promises  security  to  all  who 
forsake  their  sins,  and  return  unto  him  in 
Jesus  Christ;  and  yet  Jesus  Christ  is  ue- 
ver  mentioned  m  your  sermon.  Without 
divine  grace,  and  the  sanctifying  operations 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  we  can  do  nothing  ;  and 
yet  there  we  hear  nothing  of  divine  grace, 
or  the  Holy  Spirit.  Joah,  ready  to  take 
Rabliah,  the  royal  city  of  the  Ammonites, 
so  ordered  the  campaign  that  his  master 
David  might  have  the  honour  of  the  vic- 
tory;  but  here  is  a  Christian  minister,  who 
attacks  a  citadel  of  human  corruption,  and 
never  so  much  as  once  thinks  of  Christ, 
through  whom  he  must  conquer.  Here  is 
a  Christian  minister,  who,  leaving  the  lively 
oracles,  undertakes  spiritual  wickednesses 
with  the  carnal  weapons  of  a  Tully  and  De- 
mosthenes. Mistake  me  not,  I  speak  not 
against  oratory  as  such  ;  but  if  a  Roman  or 
a  Greek  philosopher,  who  had  never  heard 
of  Christ,  can  say  as  much  against  the  vices 
of  the  age,  as  you  can,  who  have  from  your 
infancy  been  educated  in  the  Christian  re- 
ligion ;  what  say  you  more  than  others  ? 
Is  not  this  too  much  to  slight  that  bleedins:, 
dyiniT  Ijamb  of  God,  who  alone  can  take 
uway  the  sin  of  the  world  ? 

liut  the  slight  put  upon  our  Master's 
words  is  not  all  -.  your  not  taking  notice  of 
these  things  has  unhaf)pily  led  you  into 
mistakes  that  are  utterly  inconsistent  with 
his  undertaking.  You  call  upon  us,  *' by 
every  act  of  humiliation  and  repentance,  to 
deserve  the  protection  of  Heaven  ;"  and 
throughout  your  whole  discourse  you  labour 
hard  to  fix  our  hopes  upon  this  basis,  and 
our  after  obedience.  But  can  the  sincerest 
repentance,  or  the  deepest  humiliation,  de- 
serve the  favour  of  (Jod,  and  the  remittance 
of  punishiueiit  ?     If  so,  then  fallen  Adam 


mii;ht  have  broken  in  pieces  the  chains  of 
eternal  death,  in  which  he  was  holden  ;  and 
then,  what  need  of  shedding  the  blood  of 
the  promised  seed  ?  what  need  of  such  a 
sacrifice  to  appease  God,  if  he  was  already 
appeased,  or  could  be  appeased  by  the  re- 
lentings  of  man  ?  Briefly,  if  the  death  of 
Christ  was  necessary  to  purchase  eternal 
redemption  for  us,  then  our  repentance 
and  humiliation  can  never  deserve  the  di- 
vine favour. 

Nor  can  our  after  obedience  procure  such 
protection.  Perfect  obedience  is  a  debt 
continually  due  from  every  creature  as  such  ; 
and  the  payment  of  a  debt  due  now,  can 
never  be  a  compensation  for  the  non-pay- 
ment of  arrears  :  nor  can  the  most  exact 
payment  of  what  is  due  from  one's  self 
be  esteemed  the  least  part  of  payment  of 
what  is  due  from  another ;  and  there- 
fore, where  the  debt  is  obedience,  as  all 
creatures  are  bound  to  obey  ai  nil  times, 
none  but  a  God  can  pay  off  the  score  of 
any  one  delinquent.  This  is  a  tremendous 
consideration,  even  supposing  true  repen- 
tance, and  a  thorough  reformation,  were 
wholly  in  our  own  power ;  but  when,  as  sin- 
ners, we  are  entirely  "  without  strength," 
Rom.  V.  6,  8  ;  when  (as  I  have  already  ob- 
served) these  gifts  are  perfectly  dependent 
upon  grace,  and  the  good  Spirit  of  God  ; 
surely  to  talk  of  deserving  the  fiivour  of 
Heaven  by  them,  must  be  extremely  ab- 
surd. Nor  is  it  only  extremely  absurd,  but 
extremely  dangerous  ;  as  it  places  the  merit 
of  works  higher  than  ever  the  Papists 
placed  it,  and  is  utterly  inconsistent  with 
the  humble  genius  of  the  Protestant  reli- 
gion. 

But  your  neglect  of  taking  proper  notice 
of  these  things,  not  only  leads  you  to  dis- 
regard the  express  sayings  of  our  Lord,  and 
to  nullify  his  work,  but  to  heal  the  wounds 
of  the  daughter  of  God's  people  slightly. 
You  complain  of  our  "  profaneness  and  im- 
morality ;  of  our  profligacy  and  unjust  op- 
position to  lawful  authority)  of  our  disre- 
gard to  decency  and  good  manners,  as  well 
as  to  the  laws  of  our  country;  of  that  un- 
lawful pursuit  of  pleasure,  that  luxury  and 
extravagance,  which  insensibly  preys  upon 
the  constitution,  debases  the  sense,  and 
cornipts  the  morals  of  our  people."  And 
these  are  evils  that  you  ouglit  to  complain 
of;  they  are  the  sure  signs  of  a  declii.ing 
consumptive  state,  andean  never  be  enough 
lamented.  But  then,  you  never  touch  upon 
that  root  of  bitterness,  which  bears  this  gull 
and  wormwood  ;  you  say  nothing  of  our 
nnbelicf,  ^^■hieh  kee])s  us  at  a  distance  from 
God,  from  whom  we  must  receive  every 
good  and  perfect  g:ift ;  you  say  nothing  of 
fitilh,  without  which  it  is  impossible  to 
please  him,  to  turn  from  evil.  r>i  return  to 
him.      Nor  do  you  take  the  lca>t  iioticti  of 


S82 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


our  emftiilij  to  the  blessed  Jesus,  and  liis  holy 
gospel ;  of  that  proneness  to  rebellion  and 
naughtiness  of  heart,  from  whence  jiroceeds 
every  evil  thought,  and  word,  and  woric. 
These  things  you  ought  to  have  remember- 
ed, and  not  to  have  forgotten  the  other. 

Had  you  remfirked  upon  these  evils,  in 
the  moral  view  you  have  taken  of  our  na- 
tional vices,  it  would  naturally  have  led  you 
to  point  out  suitable  remedies.  You  must 
then  have  persuaded  us  to  labour  alter  an 
union  with  C'hrist,  the  fountain  of  grace, 
by  faith  ;  and  this  radical  union  with  him 
would  have  produced  a  moral  union,  and 
have  transformed  us  into  his  likeness  :  where 
faith  had  been  implanted,  love  would  have 
flowed ;  and  where  love  had  tlowed,  there 
must  have  been  ready  and  cheerful  obedi- 
en;;e  ;  for  the  end  of  the  commandment  is 
charity,  out  of  a  pure  heart,  and  faith  un- 
feigned. But  without  these  gracious  habits 
internally  wrought,  what  will  all  the  out- 
ward reformation  in  the  world  do  for  us  ? 
Have  you  not  read  of  tlie  Pharisees  ?  Did 
not  these  people  keep  clean  the  outside  of 
the  cup  and  the  platter?  Far  from  being 
guilty  of  any  scandalous  immorality,  they 
prayed  in  the  streets,  made  broad  their  phy- 
lacteries, fasted  twice  a-week,  and  gave 
tithes  of  all  that  they  possessed  :  yet  were 
their  inward  parts  so  tilthy,  that  they  finally 
became  obnoxious  to  a  judgment  ten  thou- 
sand times  worse  than  what  has  befallen  the 
unhappy  inhabitants  of  Lisbon.  Let  us 
not  deceive  ourselves  ;  neither  outward  re- 
formation nor  outward  morality  are  suffici- 
ent ;  neither  outward  professions  nor  out- 
ward duties  will  make  a  man  a  Christian. 
The  king's  daughter  is  all  glorious  within, 
as  well  as  without  ,■  and  if  we  belong  to  the 
Redeemer,  we  must  be  sanctified  by  him 
both  in  soul,  and  body,  and  spirit. 

If  you  would  reform  the  world,  preach 
THE  GOSPEL.  The  gospel  contains  the  only 
motives  that  cati  possibly  prevail  upon  any 
to  embrace  it.  People  may  talk  of  the  am- 
iableness  of  the  divine  Being,  and  the 
charms  of  virtue,  thereby  to  allure  us  to  return 
to  the  one,  and  to  embrace  the  other  ;  but 
without  a  true  faith  in  the  promises  of  par- 
don and  acceptance,  true  repentance  can 
never  be  attained  ;  and  a  free  and  gracious 
pardon  and  acceptance  is  nowhere  promis- 
ed, but  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  The 
goodness  of  God  freely  offering  pardon  and 
peace,  must  lead  us  back  to  him,  or  we  ap- 
proach him  no  more.  Earthquakes,  famine, 
pestilence,  or  any  other  evils,  have  their 
use  only  as  they  discover  to  us  our  j)resent 
condition,  and  greatly  enhance  the  offered 
kindness :  but  we  love  God,  because  he 
.first  loved  us  ;  we  love  Jesus  Christ,  be- 
cause he  obeyed  and  died  for  us  ;  and  his 
gredt  love,  thus  manifested,  docs  not  urge, 
but  "constrain  us  to  love  him  again ;  "  be- 


cause we  thus  judge,  that  if  one  died  for 
all,  then  were  all  dead  ;  and  he  died  for 
all  that  they  which  live,  should  not  hence- 
forth live  unto  themselves,  but  unto  him 
which  died  for  them,  and  rose  again."  These 
are  "  the  cords  of  a  m^in,  and  the  bands  of 
love,"  wherewi4;h  we  are  drawn  to  our  hea- 
venly Father,  "  Herein  is  love,  not  that 
we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and 
sent  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our 
sins ;"  and  if  God  so  loved  us,  surely  we 
ought  to  love  him  again,  and  to  testify  our 
love  by  a  suitable  obedience.  When  no 
creature  (as  I  have  hinted)  could  furnish  a 
righteousness  that  might  be  imputed  to  us, 
who  can  but  stand  amazed,  that  the  Father 
shoiild  send  his  only  begotten  Son  to  obey 
in  our  stead?  When  no  creature  could 
bear  the  wrath  of  an  offended  God,  and  by 
d3'ing  overcome  death,  who  can  but  stand 
amazed,  that  the  Son  of  God  should  be  sent 
to  suffer  and  to  die,  that  we  might  live 
through  him  ?  Who  can  but  stand  amazed, 
that  the  Son  of  God  should  take  our  nature 
upon  himself,  that  he  might  thus  obey  and 
die  for  us  ?  How  can  we  behold  him 
thus  dying  for  us,  and  not  die  to  that  sin 
for  which  he  died  ?  When  love  so  luipre- 
cedented  speaks  so  loud,  who  can  but  hear, 
and  wonder,  and  return  to  the  Lord  ? 

What  I  have  said,  I  think,  plainly  shews 
that  your  discourse  might  have  been  far 
more  evangelical ;  and  as  plainly  shews 
what  superior  motives  to  repentance  and  re- 
formation would  have  occurred,  if  it  had 
been  so.  So  that,  humbly  recommending 
my  remarks  to  your  serious  consideration, 
I  might  here  have  concluded  my  letter  :  but 
as  you  allow  that  the  Late  earthquakes  "  have 
hitherto  been  the  merciful  warnings  of  a 
kind  and  good  providence,  to  dispose  us  to 
bear  the  rod  ;  and  to  consider,  with  that 
awe  which  becomes  us,  the  hand  which 
hath  appointed  it ;"  a  few  eclaircissements 
upon  one  of  the  lessons  which  you  have  ad- 
vanced under  that  head  become  absolutely 
necessary,  lest,  by  mistaking  the  case,  we 
should  lose  the  benefit  of  our  neighboiu:s' 
afflictions. 

You  recommend  upon  this  occasion, 
"  our  guarding  ourselves  against  any  hard 
censures,  which  a  reflection  upon  these  ex- 
traordinary calamities  encourages  in  minds 
too  readily  disposed  to  judge  with  seventy  ;" 
and  conclude,  ''  that  it  is  certain  that  we 
have  no  right  to  determine  what  are  the  par- 
ticular intentions  of  Providence  in  this  dis- 
pensation." But  certainly  we  have  a  right 
to  determine  that  such  punishments  are  in- 
flicted because  of  sin  :  else  how  do  they  (in 
your  own  words)  "  speak  to  us  the  lan- 
guage of  the  divine  displeasure  ?"  else  how 
can  they  be  considered  as  punishments  to 
correct  some,  and  to  warn  others?  else  how 
can  thev  be  considered  as  the  louder  c;dls 


A   COLLEt'TfON  OF  LETTERS. 


883 


of  ain;er  ;  or  ut"  ^v!i:it  use  to  bring  us  borae 
to  oinsclvt's  y  'J'liis  yoii  must  grunt,  or  you 
5)iicl  down  lill  tl.ut  you  liave  ht-lore  Ijiiilded, 
Mi;J  in;iky  youixlt'ii  trcsfjiisser.  I  .illow  tljKt 
wo  liave  no  riglitto  conclude  these  unhappy 
jpuople  to  ()0  gi't'Uter  sinntjis  than  ourselves, 
bi'cause  of  their  greater  sullerings.  This 
would  lead  us  pharisiiically  to  (-ajplc  our- 
selves in  our  iniquities,  rather  than  to  take 
warning  by  (jthers ;  yet  We  iwe  allowed  to 
look  upon  them  ;is  very  great  oifenders. 
Our  Saviour  dues  not  reprove  his  disciples, 
for  thinking  thowe  Galileans,  whose  blood 
(Luke  xiii.  2.)  Pilate  had  mingled  with 
their  sacritices,  to  be  very  great  sinners ; 
but  for  thinking  them  to  be  greater  sinners 
than  thenihflves,  which  is  indeed  a  temper 
of  mind  utterly  inconsistent  with  true  re- 
pentance. 

We    are    allowed    then    to  suj)pose    the 


coniicrted  to  us  by  every  tie  hut  that  of  re- 
ligion;  but  this  of  itscU  constitutes  so  vast 
adillerence,  that  whenever  we  are  disposed 
to  speak  most  favourably  ol  their  failings, 
and  attribute  them  to  the  prejudices  of 
education,  or  the  weakness  of  human  judg- 
ment, we  should  still  remember,  that  we 
are  protestants  Mid  they  were  pa])ists  ;  arul 
indeed,  to  us,  as  jjrotestants  and  Christians, 
there  is  something  in  this  divine  judgment 
so  very  remarkable,  that,  if  rightly  con- 
sidered,  it  may  greatly  coniirm  us  in  both. 

As  j)rotest;uits,  we  all  look  for  the  de- 
struction of  antichrist  and  his  kingdom  ; 
and  here  we  behold  a  city,  whose  luiequylled 
trade  in  gold,  and  silvei-,  and  precious  stones, 
was  a  pioper  type  of  that  sjjiritual  merchan- 
dise so  many  hundred  years  vended  by  her 
mother  Ivome;  like  whom,  slw;  was  budt 
upon  se\  en   hills  ;  like  whom,  as  a  most 


Portuguese  to  be  great  siunera,  and  that  the  \  obedient  daughter,  she  was  a  nest  of  idola- 


Lisbon  eijrthquake  was  a,  punishment  in 
flicted  for  sin  ;  and  if  we  can  discover  any 
thing  in  their  conduct  that  might  tend  to 
bring  down  this  divine  judgment  upon  them, 
it  will  be  oiu'  wisdom  to  take  warning  by 
it,    and    carefully  to    avoid  it,    as    a    fatal 


ters  and  persecutors  I  And  as  she  was 
like  her  mother  in  every  thing,  we  have  all 
the  reason  in  the  world  to  think,  that 
Rome,  like  Lisbon,  shall  one  day  be  pu- 
nished. Most  remarkable  it  is,  thai  on  the 
day  which  she  had  abused  to  ro!)  the   etei'- 


Miare ;  and  surely  we  may  see  so;ne  things  '  i;al  God  of  his  honour,  and  to  give  it  to  the 
in  them,  which  Glod  has,  in  all  ages,  punish- I  wliole  host  of  heaven;  on  tiic  day  which 
ed  with  the  most  severe  chastisement.  As — I  she  had  abused  in  shedding  the  blood  of 
First,  Idolatry.  It  is  impossible  but  thousands ;  on  that  verv  day  God  came 
that  you,  sir,  must  have  heard  of  the  stupid  i  down  to  hold  his  ciutu  dufe,  and  her  own 
profaneness  and  idolatry  of  these  people;  of  blood  was  lequijed.  Thus,  when  her  ni'i- 
their  mock  processions,  and   barbarous   mi-    ther  Rome  shall  say,  "  I  sit  as  a  queen,  and, 


micry  of  their  Redeemer's  sufferings,  such 
as  was  a  scandal  to  human  nature,  and  such 
Hs  never  tarnished  the  most  jirofane  rites  of 
Heathenism.  Such  foijjjeries,  this  hor- 
rible punishment  should  caution  us  carefully 
to  avoid  ;  and  to  avoid  every  means  tliat 
would  lead  us  into  them.     It  should  make 


am  no  widow,  and  shall  see  no  sorrow;  in 
that  very  day  shall  her  plagues  come,  death, 
and  mourning,  and  iamine  ;  and  she  shall  he 
utterly  burnt  with  lire,  for  strong  is  the 
Lord  God  who  judges  her." 

As  Christians,  we  all  look  and  wait  for 
the  coming  of  our  Lord  unto  judgment,  and 


us  carefully  abide  by  the  gospel  of  Christ,  therefore  shoidd  pay  a  special  regard  to 
which  is  the  power  of  God  to  salvation  to  j  eveiy  token  of  his  approach.  He  himself 
every  one  that  believes  ;  and  wherein  is  re-  j  has  told  us,  that,  before  his  coming,  "  there 
vealed  the  righteousness  of  God  from  fiiith  sliall  be  signs  in  the  sun,  and  in  the  moon, 
to  faith.  It  shoidd  make  us  careful  to  live  j  and  in  the  stars,  and  upon  the  earth,  distress 
up  to  it,  lest,  for  neglecting  so  great  sal-  of  nations  with  perplexity,  the  sea  and  the 
vation,  (Jod  should  give   us  up  to   strong    waves  roaring,  men's  hearts  failing  thern  for 


delusions,  to  believe  such  lies,  and  to  wor- 
ship and  serve  the  creature  more  than  the 
Creator,  who  is  blessed  for  ever. 

Sccoiii/ti/,  Persecution.  V/e  all  know, 
that  at  Lisbon  the  barbarous  Inquisition 
reigned  in  all  its  horrors,  and  that  thousands 
have  there  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  it,  whose 
blood  has  long  cried  aloud  for  vengeance  ; 
and  we  know  that  persecutors  have  been 
most  severely  punished  in  all  ages  ;  so  that, 
taught  by  this  dreadful  judgment,  we 
should  carefully  avoid  this  crime — a  crime 
of  so  deep  a  dye,  that  in  its  higliest  stage, 
when  it  strikes  at  the  truth  as  such,  it  bi-- 
coines  irremissitde,  and  can  never  be  for- 
given eitiier  in  this  world  or  in  that  which 
is  to  come.     1  allow,  that  these  peojJ.e  are  j 


fear,  and  for  looking  after  those  things 
which  are  coming  upon  the  earth  ;  for  the 
powers  of  heaven  shall  be  shaken."  AVheq 
therefore  we  see  any  such  things  come  to 
pass,  we  should  lift  up  our  heads,  for  our  re- 
demption draws  nigh.  Nor  need  we  to  fear, 
if  Christ  dwells  in  our  hearts  by  faith,  if 
we  are  rooted  and  giounded  in  love,  thougli 
the  heavens  and  the  earth  fly  away,  and 
their  place  be  found  no  more  ;  for  the  Lord 
of  Hosts  is  with  us,  and  Jesus  Christ  is  our 
refuge.  In  whom  I  am,  reverend  sir,  yoiur 
sincere  well-wisher,  &c. 


LETTER  CLIX. 
Dkaii  anu   Rf.\i:kkno  Sin. — You  need 


884 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


no  apology  for  delnyiiig  your  answer  to  my 
letter.  You  have  a  precedent  to  plead, 
which  must,  if  not  satisfy,  yet  strike  me 
dumb  ;  but  I  propose,  if  the  Lord  assist,  to 
be  mure  punctuiil  for  the  future  in  acknow- 
ledging the  favours  I  receive  from  my  va- 
luable and  valued   correspondents  ;  among 

whom  I  shall  always  reckon  Mr. . 

I  am  much  obliged  for  your  very  just  and 
very  important  remarks.  They  give  me 
such  an  idea  of  your  knowledge  in  the  thintrs 
of  Christ,  and  your  acquaintance  \v'\th  ex- 
perimental religion,  that  I  must  beg  leave 
to  lay  before  you  the  plan  which  I  have 
sketched  out  for  my  Treatise  on  Gospel 
Holiuess  ;  with  an  earnest  request,  that  you 
will  rigorously  examine  it,  and  freely  pass 
your  judgment  upon  it;  suggesting,  where- 
ever  it  is  improper,  the  means  of  rectifying 
it ;  wherever  it  is  defective,  a  method  for 
completing  it. 


Pleasure  and  happiness  of  Christ's  reli- 
gion. We  must  partake  of  the  comforts  of 
the  gospel,  before  we  can  be  fitted  to  prac- 
tise the  duties  of  the  law.  Theron  oppress, 
ed  with  fears  on  account  of  his  numerous 
sins,  discouraged  with  doubts  on  account  of 
his  imperfect  obedience,  the  cordials  of  the 
gospel  are  readministered  with  some  addi- 
tional spirit  and  strength.  Holiness,  gospel 
holiness,  its  nature,  necessity,  excellency. 
The  endowments  necessary  to  fit  us  for  the 
practice  of  holiness  ;  a  persuasion  of  our 
reconciliation  to  God,  the  hope  of  everlast- 
ing happiness,  and  an  assured  expectation 
of  grace  sufficient  for  us.  The  grand  effi- 
cient of  holiness,  the  blessed  Spirit ;  the 
principal  instrument,  faith.  This  renews 
the  dispute  concerning  the  assurance  of 
faith.  Objections  to  it  stated,  discussed, 
answered.  Holiness  more  particularly  de- 
lineated  in  its  several  tnanches,  and  deduced 
from,  or  founded  upon  evangelical  principles ; 
such  as,  "  I  beseech  you  by  the  mercies  of 
God  :  Ye  are  bought  with  a  price  :  Ye 
are  the  temples  of  the  living  God :  God 
hath  forgiven  you,"  iS:c.  All  these  privileges, 
though  not  hereditary,  yet  indefeasible  ;  or 
the  final  perseverance  of  believers.  This 
eminently  conducive  to  holiness.  The 
Scriptures,  prayer,  Lord's  supper,  when 
mixed  with  faith,  are  effectual  means  of 
holiness.  Our  friends  part,  and  renew 
their  epistolary  correspondence.  Theron, 
desirous  to  glorify  the  God  of  his  salvation, 
asks  advice  concerning  the  best  method  of 
family  worship,  educating  children,  in- 
structing  servants,  and  edifying  his  ac- 
quaintance. On  each  of  these  particulars 
Aspasio  satisfies  his  inquiry ;  enlarges  on 
the  subject  of  education,  especially  the  edu- 


cation of  daughters,  as  that  seems  to  be 
most  neglected,  or  the  pro])er  manner  of 
conducting  it  least  understood.  Letter  on 
the  covenant  of  grace  ,*  com])rising  the  sub- 
stance, and  being  a  kind  of  recapitulation  of 
the  preceding  volumes.  Letter  on  the  way 
of  living  bi/ faith  in  the  Son  of  God,  or  the 
way  of  reducing  all  the  gospel  doctrines  to 
.<initabfe  practice.  Aspasio  seized  with  a 
sudden  and  fatal  illness.  His  sentiments 
and  behaviour  in  his  last  moments. 

This,  dear  sir,  is  my  rough  drHUght.  Ap- 
ply the  compasses  and  plummet  ;  examine 
it  with  your  rule  and  line.  Improve  my 
plan  ;  assist  me,  with  your  advice  and  pray- 
ers, to  execute  the  work ;  and  may  the  great 
Master-builder  enable  me  to  bring  forth  the 
top-stone,  for  the  honour  of  his  holy  name, 
and  for  the  edification  of  his  chosen  people. 
I  am,  dear  sir,  with  unfeigned  affection,  your 
brother  in  Christ. 

N.  B. — As  Mr.  Hervey  did  not  live  to 
finish  his  plan,  and  as  he  was  himself  appre- 
hensive that  he  should  not,  he  desired,  in 
his  preface  to  Marshall  on  Sanctification, 
that  Marshall  might  be  considered  as  a  sup- 
plement to  Theron  and  Aspasio,  and  as  a 
kind  of  substitute  for  what  he  intended  to 
write  on  the  same  subject,  according  to  the 
plan  here  proposed.  His  words  are,  "  I  do 
by  these  presents  depute  Mr.  Marshall  to 
supply  my  lack  of  service."  See  Recom- 
mendatory Letter,  p.  619. 


LETTER  CLX. 

February  12. 

Mv  DEAR  FiUEND, — I  will  take  a  hun- 
dred of  .Tenks's  Every  Man's  Ready  Com- 
panion ;  for  my  mind  is  not  altered  since  I 
l)romised  this,  nor  my  charity  purse  drained. 
It  is  a  useful  book  to  give  away. 

I  am  glad  Jenks's  Meditations  sell,  and 
I  hope  the  Lord  will  make  them  a  blessing 
to  the  reader :  it  is  pity  they  cannot  be 
comprised  in  less  than  two  volumes  octavo. 

Does  Mr.  want  amusement  ?    Let 

him  tsike  your  friend  Dr.  Young's  advice  : 

Retire  and  read  his  Bible  to  be  gay. 

Does  Mrs.  want  it?   You  should 

teach  her  to  delight  in  God,  and  to  rejoice 
in  Christ  Jesus.  A  certain  geiuleworaan 
in  ililes'-lane,  whom  you  once  reproved, 
has  been  taught  to  find  her  consolation,  not 
ill  the  entertainments  of  the  stage,  but  in 
the  a.ssured  hopes  of  heaven. 

Have  you  given  so  and  so  to  the  poor? 
Ask  your  heart,  whether  you  gave  out  of 
love  to  your  dying  Saviour  ?  Was  this  the 
motive  ?  It  would  then  be  UTiivcrsally  in- 
fiuential ;  and  you  would  think  you  could 
never  do  enough  for  his  honour. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


885 


If  an  enrthfuiake  should  liaj^pcii,  ask  Mr.  I  Is  this  s])oken  to  nie?  To  jou,  madam  ; 
,  (that  advocate  for  the  theatre),  if  he  i  to  the  yoiiiif^  ladies  of  your  aL-quaiiitaiiee, 
would  like  to  be  found  in  the  play-house,  and  to  every  one  that  reads  it.  Life  eternal 
and  go  from  the  boxes,  or  pit,  to  the  great;  is  given,  just  as  the  manna  was  given  in  the 
tribunal  ?  Indeed,  indeed,  the  stage  is  inde- ,  wilderness.  The  manna,  that  each  hungry 
fensible. 

Thanks   for  delivering    my  message. 


Israelite    might    gather  and    eat   it  :     Life 
I  j  eternal,  that  every  poor  sinner  may  receive 


wish   you  a  safe  retiu'ii,   and  the  continual  ^  and  enjoy  it — But  I  have  no  merit,  nothii 
guidance  of  Heaven.     Yours  most  cordially,  [  to  deserve  it.      Then  you  have  just  as  much 


&c. 


My  messenger  waits,  pardon  haste. 


LETTER  CLXI. 


IM.ADAM, — I  am   pleased  not  a  little  to 
hear  a  lady  of  yom-  tine  sense  and  blooming 
years   declare,    That  an  inquiry  relating  to 
everlasting  s.dvatioii  "has  taken  up  much  ^  tion  tor  us 
of  her  ilioui;lits."     Let   me  entreat  you  to 


as  the  all-gracious  (iod  requires.  Without 
money  and  without  price,  is  his  bountiful 
declaration.  l-"reely,  and  abstracted  from 
all  deserts,  are  his  gracious  terms.  You 
have  no  merit,  madam,  and  I  have  less  than 
none.  But  has  our  divinely  excellent  Re- 
deemer nothing  meritorious?  For  his  sake, 
this  magnificent  and  glorious  gift  is  con- 
ferred. Not  we  ourselves,  but  Jesus  Christ 
the  righteous  has  obtained  eternal  redemp- 


May  I  then  assuredly  believe,   that   God 
go  on,  and  imitate  that  excellent  woman,  j  gives  eternal   life  to  nie?  ]\Iay  you  glorify 
whose  panegyric  is  uttered  by  wisdom  and 
truth  itself;  "  JMary  hath  chosen  that  better 
part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  from  her." 

You  inquire,  "  Whether  the  elect  of  God 
have  not  an  inward  assurance  that  they  shall 
be  saved  ?"  Your  casuist  takes  leave  to  an- 
swer the  question,  by  asking  another  :  Why 
should  not  you  and  I,  madam,  have  this 
assurance?  Is  it  not  a  blessing  intended  for 
Christians  in  general  ?    "  We  know,"  says 


God's  truth?  may  you  glorify  his  grace?, 
may  you  glorify  the  death  and  obedience 
of  his  beloved  Son  ?  If  so,  then  you  may, 
you  ought,  it  is  your  privilege  and  your  duty 
to  believe,  that  God  Almighty  freely  gives 
to  you  eternal  life. 

When  you  receive  this  gift,  look  upon  it 
as  your  portion  ;  live  in  the  most  comforta- 
ble expectation  of  it ;  relying  on  nothing 
valuable  in  yourself,  but  depending  entirely 


the  apostle,  "  that  we  are  passed  from  death  !  upon  the  faithful  promise  of  him  who  cannot 


unto  life."  He  says  not,  I  and  some  emi- 
nent saints,  but,  "  we ;"  including  those 
believers  to  whom  he  wrote,  those  among 
whom  he  preached,  and  all  those  who  here- 
after should  believe  through  his  word. 

Is  not  this  a  most  desirable  knowledge  ? 
On  the  other  hand,  can  any  thing  be  more 
aftiicting  than  a  state  of  suspense  with  regard 
to  this  all-important  affair?  To  be  in  sus- 
pense whether  my  final  lot  will  fall  in  the 
regions  of  endless  misery,  or  the  mansions 
of  eternal  glory  ?  Insupportable  !  Can  it  be 
the  will  of  our  most  indulgent  Creator,  that 
we  should  spend  our  days  in  this  sad  uncer- 
tainty, and  distressing  anxiety  ?  Impossible  ! 

But  have  we  a  warrant  for  this  assurance  ? 
We  have  the  best  of  warrants,  the  gift  of 
God.  If  your  papa  gives  you  a  pair  of 
diamond  ear-rings,  or,  (which,  rightly  im- 
proved, will  be  much  more  ornamental)  a 
neatly  printed  Bible ;  do  not  you  look  upon 
this  as  a  sufficient  warrant  to  call  these 
presents  your  own  ?  Do  not  you  rest  fully 
assured,  that,  by  virtue  of  your  parent's  gift, 
they  are  your  unquestionable  property  ? 
Perhaps  you  will  say.  Where  has  God 
Almighty  done  any  thing  like  this  ?  where 
has  he  given  salvation  or  life  eternal  to  me 


lie.  Then  you  will  feel  your  heart  inclined 
to  love  your  most  adorable  Benefactor,  then 
you  will  study  to  please  him  in  all  your 
conversation,  then  you  will  be  truly  holy. 
All  which  is,   with  great  sincerity,   wished 

by,  amiable  Miss ,  your  most  obedient 

servant,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXIL 

Dear  Sir, — I  keep  Mr.  E 's  sermon 

for  no  other  reason,  than  to  prevent  its 
going  into  other  hands.  I  am  ashamed,  and 
sorry  to  see,  that  so  celebrated  a  college  ad 
should  send  out  such  a  teacher  of  divi- 
nity. However,  I  must  acknowledge  one 
excellence  in  this  gentleman.  He  acts  pru- 
dently at  least,  in  not  overloading  his  ])ages 
with  quotations  from  Scripture.  Those 
stubborn  pragmatical  things  might,  perhaps, 
lia\e  risen  up,   stared  him  in  the  luce,  and 

confronted  his  notions.   Mr- ,  be  rightly 

judges,  will  serve  his  turn  much  better  than 
St.  Paul.  Who  is  Philalethes  Cestriensis?  I 
see  r.othiug  valuable  in  his  work,  but  what 
Be  pleased  to  consult  1  John  v.  11,  and  iconics  from  the  iiaper-mill  and  the  printing- 
you  will  find  an  answer,  which,  I  hope,  will  ])ress  ;  the  jniper  and  type  are  indeed  very 
prove  j)erfectly  satisfactory,  and  highly  dc-  |  beautiful.      What  a  wild  proposition  is  that, 


lightful. 


,  jiage  124,  namely,  •'  That  by  faith  in  Jesus 


886 


A  COLLECTION  C  F  LETTERS. 


Chiist,  we  understand  the  persuasion  of  tlie 
mind,  that  Jesus  C  hrist  was  sent  fiom  God 
to  redeem  and  to  instruct  mankind  ?"  At 
this  rate,  the  very  devils  are  endued  with 
the  Spirit  of  our  God  :  They  believe  with 
this  persuasion  of  the  mind,  that  the  Chris- 
tian revelation  is  true.  Amidst  so  many 
j)alpable  errors,  who  shall  lead  us  into 
truth  ?  He  that  is  our  gracious  Master,  and 
our  wonderful  Coimsellor.  Dear  sir,  let  us 
look  unto  him,  that  he  may,  according  to 
his  promise,  "guide  us  continually."  Next 
to  the  holy  word  of  God,  let  us  study 
Marshall  on  Sanctification.  For  my  part, 
1  am  never  weary  of  reading  that  incompar- 
able and  most  comfortable  book. 

Are  you,  dear  sir,  always  thinking  how 
good  may  be  done  ?  I  say  with  Uavid, 
"  The  Lord  God  nf  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
of  Israel,  our  fathers,  keep  this  for  ever  in 
ihe  imaguiation  of  the  thoughts  of  the  heart 
of  his  servant!"  1  (.'hron.  xxix.  18- 

As  the  public  service  of  our  church  is 
become  such  a  formal  lifeless  thing,  and  as 
it  is  too  generally  executed  by  persons  so 
(lead  to  godliness  in  all  their  conversation, 
1  question  whether  it  will  be  operce  predum 
to  pulilish  the  exhortations  to  ministers,  and 
to  a  devout  attenf'.aiice  on  the  church  ser- 
vice, which  you  propose.  I  should  much 
rather  see  from  your  pen  two  or  three  lively 
and  animating  forms  of  morning  and  even- 
ing jirayer,  with  clear  and  short  directions 
liow  to  pray  aright,  and  a  proper  method 
of  daily  seli-exami nation.  This,  printed  in 
a  hallpenny  pamphlet,  we  might  give  away 
to  any  body,  indeed  to  every  body.  And  if 
one  in  t\venty,or  even  one  inhfty  proved  suc- 
cessful, ourpains  and  expense  would  be  abun- 
ciantlv  recom])ensed.  We  should  also  hereby 
have  some  handle  to  lay  hold  on  hypocritical, 
self-deceiving  souls.  We  might  say.  Neigh- 
bour, have  you  got  those  prayers  by  heart?  do 
you  constantly  use  them,  and  examine  yourself 
daily  by  those  questions  ?  Indeed,  indeed, 
tlie  exhortations  you  propose  would  only  ex- 
asperate the  clergy.  It  is  dangerous  to 
meddle  with  them  or  their  ])roceedings. 
You  are,  I  hope,  in  the  way  of  duty,  and 
that  is  the  way  of  peace  and  safety.  You 
may  do  much  good,  by  dropping  a  word 
for  Christ  on  proper  occasions.  You  do 
not  know  liow  vouu  words  are  by  the  gen- 
erality regarded ;  and  it  is  impossible  for 
tongue  to  tell  how  kindly  our  condescending 
^Master  will  take  the  least  attemjits  which 
proceed  from  the  love  of  his  name. 

I  intend  soon  to  return  Dr.  Watts  on  the 
Love  of  God.  I  wisli  it  was  reprinted. 
Pray  did  you  ever  read  Dr.  Delaune's 
Sermons  ?  he  was  president  of  St.  John's 
College,  Oxford,  and  famed,  I  am  told,  for 
being  a  most  accomplished  gentleman.  He 
really  has  more  of  the  truth  of  (he  gospel  in 
l\is   twelve   sermons,  that    in  all   the  jjolite 


sermons  I  ever  read  in  my  life.  For  my 
part,  I  set  no  store  by  our  modeiii  <iis- 
courses  ;  nay,  I  can  hardly  bear  to  read  such 
insipid  unevangelical  harangues.  Much  ra- 
ther would  1  read  an  oration  in  Tully,  or  a 
dissertation  of  Seneca's. 

When  you  can  s]>are  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Browne's  Estimate,  and  likewise  his  two 
sermons  preached  at  the  cathedra!  church  <if 
Carlisle  in  1746,  just  favour  me  with  a 
sight  of  them.  I  presume  they  will  not 
tell  me  of  Jesus  which  wascrucitied,  there- 
fore I  shall  soon  be  satisfied  with  their  com- 
]>any  ;  for  thoni^h  I  may  find  some  amuse- 
ment from  his  fine  style,  and  striking  senti- 
ments, yet  I  can  find  no  consolation  in  any 
name,  nor  in  any  thing,  but  only  in  the 
grand  propitiation  and  everlasting  righteous- 
ness of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 
Thanks  for  Dr.  Akenside's  Ode  to  the 
country  gentlemen  of  England.  He  wrote 
this  with  a  very  good  intention,  and  he  is 
certainly  a  man  of  genms  ;  but  to  me  this 
ode  reads  somewhat  flat ;  I  fear  it  will  not 
rouse  and  animate   like   the  poems  of  Tyr- 

tffiUS.* 

This  probably  will  find  you  returned  in 
safety  from  your  journey.  When  the  jour- 
ney of  life  is  over,  I  hope  we  shall  sit  down 
together  in  everlasting  rest ;  and  see  his 
glory,  who  endured  the  cross,  and  despised 
the  shame.  'J'lll  then,  and  then  much  more, 
shall  I  be  most  alfectionately  yours,  ike. 


LETTER  CLXIIL 

Thanks  to  my  dear  friend  for  the  peiui- 
sal  of  Dr.  Glynn's  poem,  entitled,  The  Day 
of  Judgment.  It  is  not  void  of  elegaiice 
and  spirit ;  but  methinks  it  wants  that 
energy  and  pathos,  which,  on  so  interesting 
and  solemn  an  occasion,  should  awe,  trans- 
port, and  agitate  our  souls.  But  the  great 
deficiency  is,  the  neglect  of  Jesus  Christ. 
He  is,  indeed,  slightly  mentioned,  just  at 
the  close  ;  but  he  should  have  made  the 
distinguished  figure  throughout  the  whole 
piece.  St.  Paul  calls  the  day  of  judgment, 
the  day  of  Christ.  We  must  all  stand  be- 
fore the  judgment-seat  of  Christ  ;  then 
shall  we  behold  the  glorious  appearing  of  the 
great  God,  even  of  our  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ.  But  not  a  glimpse  of  this  is  seen 
in  Dr.  Glynn's  poem. 

Do   you   ask  what  I  think  of  the  ])oliie 

's  sermon  ?      It  is  a  mere  moral  essay, 

not  a  seiinon  ;  it  wants  the  light  of  Christ. 
I'o  svfdk  the  truth,  1  think  it  an  errant 
Cyclops. 


*  Tyr,eus  was  apoct  of  Athens,  who,  by  his  poem 
pronnuncerl  at  the  liead  of  tlie  army,  inspired  liie 
Spartans  with  so  much  roiirage  afi<f  contempt  of 
death,  that  IhFV  obt.iiucd  a  j^ioiioiis  mcIov. 


A  COLLECTION  Or   LETTERS. 


887 


Monstrum  1  orrendum,  cui  lumen  ademiitum. 

Virgil,  jiin.  B.  iii. 
A  hideous,  eyeless  monster. 

From  sucli  preachers,  and  such  sermons, 
good  Lord  df liver  us  !  Is  any  remedy  for 
sins  comparable  to  the  blood,  the  righte- 
ousness, the  intercession  of  a  divine  Re- 
deemer? Pity,  ten  thousand  pities,  so  great 
a  man  (for  so  the  author  really  is)  should 
not  know,  or  should  totally  overlook  the 
grand  peculiarity  of  the  gospel.  It  grieves 
me  to  think  such  unchristian  doctrine 
should  be  thus  propagated.  If  a  fair  op- 
portimity  offers,  I  would  gladly  bear  my 
testimony  again.st  such  enormous  perver- 
sion of  the  gospel  of  Christ. 

I  cannot  think  the  manuscript  sermon 
which  you  have  now  sent  me  is  of  such 
distinguished  excellence  as  to  deserve  a 
publication.  It  does  not  seem  calculated 
either  to  alarm,  to  comfort,  or  impress. 
There  is  nothing  of  the  orator,  no  search- 1 
ing  application,  no  striking  address.  The 
preface  is  not  so  judicious  as  I  could  wish  ;  j 
it  anticipates  what  is  said  under  the  follow- i 
ing  heads,  and  renders  some  part  of  them  I 
tautological.  The  text  is  not  exhausted. 
Of  several  emphatical  words  no  notice  is 
taken,  /say  unto  you,  ye  shall  in  no  case ; 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  nothing  particu- 
lar is  said.  Indeed,  there  is  a  hint  or  two 
in  the  conclusion  referring  to  this  subject ; 
but  too  rambling,  indistinct,  and  not  with 
such  a  similarity  to  the  text  as  might  be 
observed.  The  preacher  supposes  all  his 
hearers  to  be  of  the  same  character,  and 
ranks  them  all  in  one  class.  A  practice 
which  discerning  peojjle  will  not  admire, 
and  which  is  hardly  consistent  with  the 
apostolical  rule,  rightly  dividing  the  word 
of  truth  ;  or  with  our  Lord's  direction,  to 
give  each  his  portion  suited  to  their  respec- 
tive states.      I  love  Mr.  R as  a  worthy 

good  man,  but  I  decline  the  office  of  re- 
vising his  sermon,  because  I  am  sensible  1 
could  not  make  it  suchas  I  should  choose  to 
see  printed.  Howevei',  if  it  is  printed,  I 
heartily  wi.^h  the  blessing  of  the  i>ord  may 
attend  it  ;  that  true  religion  may  be  promot- 
ed, and  immortal  souls  edified. 

When  the  Pope  is  installed  he  is  re- 
minded of  this  most  weighty  truth,  Sandc 
Pater,  dies  aternitatis  coijita.  l^et  me  say, 
Vir  dileciissime,  dies  ccternitalis  cogita.  We 
were  all  pleased  with  your  last  conversation. 
It  was  like  your  book,  and  like  yourself. 
Remember,  my  dear  friend,  when  you  are 
in  company,  that  you  have  written  a  pious 
book,  and  do  not  invalidate  all  your  exhor- 
tations to  others  liy  forgetting  them  in  your 
own  conversation.  It  is  this,  ah  !  it  is  this 
that  destroys  what  we  build,  confirms  peo- 
ple in  hikewarmness,  aiul  does  unspeakably 
more  mischief  than  can  be  enumerated  in 
this  letter.     "  Let  no  corrupt  communica- 


tion proceed  out  of  your  mouth,"  says  St. 
Paul,  "  but  that  which  is  good  to  the  use 
of  edifying,  that  it  may  minister  grace  to 
the  hearers." 

The  pa[)er  you  inquire  after  is  lost  in  the 
immaiic  barathrum  of  my  loose  papers.  If 
ever  it  emerges,  it  shall  be  restored.  May 
my  friend's  soul  be  not  as  the  present  state 
of  the  pastures  and  meads,  but  as  a  water- 
ed garden  whose  waters  fail  not ! 

I  have  perused  Mr.  Witherspoon's  Essay 
on  Imputed  righteousness  :  may  we  every 
day  experience  that  sanctifying  efficacy  on 
wliich  his  discourse  turns.  "  Sanctify 
them,"  saith  our  Lord,  "  by  thy  truth." 
I  thank  you  for  your  admonition.  I  will 
bear  it  in  my  memory,  and  may  our  divine 
Master  enable  me  to  observe  it ! 

Oh  for  a  candid  si)irit  !  It  gives  grace- 
fulness to  our  cause  ;  it  diminishes  not  the 
weight  of  our  argument ;  and  surely  it  does 
honour  to  the  Christian  character. 

Thanks  for  Mr.  Mason's*  Odes.  Po-- 
lished  performances  ;  but  not  equal,  in  rny 
judgment,  to  his  Isis,  or  his  !^Ionody  on 
Pope.  I  think  I  could  point  out  a  defect 
or  two  in  these  poems,  but  nothing  defective 
could  I  discern  in  those-  It  is  a  pity  but 
gratitude  to  the  supreme  Benefactor  actuat- 
ed our  hearts  and  guided  our  pens.  The 
rich  benefits  of  memory  displayed  by  the 
elegant  Mr.  Mason  ;  and  not  one  acknow- 
ledgment to  the  blessed  Author  of  all !  The 
poet  shines,  but  where  is  the  Christian? 
I  am  ever  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXIV. 

Tucsdai/  morning. 

Dear  Sir, — I  should  think  my  friend- 
ship very  weak,  and  quite  unfledged,  if  I 
could  be  offended  with  the  freedom  for 
which  yoit  apologize.  Those  who  were 
anciently  united  in  the  bonds  of  Christian 
fiiendship  had  this  generous  sentiment  for 
their  motto,  "  Amicorum  omnia  cominiinia, 
prater  itxores.  "\ 

I  rejoice  with  you  in  the  hopeful  young 
gentleman's  recovery  ;  a  pledge,  1  trust,  of 
liis  eminent  jiroficiency  and  extensive  use- 
fulness in  the  gospel  cause. 

I  acquiesce  entirely  in  Dr.  C 's  rea- 
sons ;  perhaps  if  there  was  much  of  tiie, 
pure  evangelical  peculiarity  in  the  recom- 
mendatory verses,  it  might  be  a  forbidding 
circumstance  to  some  leaders. 

Mr.  is  very  obliging;  his  cautions 

are  very  friendly.  I  will  not  speak  so 
plainly  to  Mr.  W.  as  to  him.      I  wish,  if  it 


»  Odes  on  Memory,  Independency,  Melancholy, 
and  the  Fate  oi"  Tyranny. 

t  Friend.s  have  everv'  thing  in  common,  except 
their  wiveb. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


be  God's  gracious  will,  that  your  little 
treatise  may  be  like  Dr.  Doddridge's  works, 
acceptable  to  every  reader.  You  see  by 
the  expressions  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to 

underline,    that   Mr.   sees    the  great 

truths  of  Christianity  inverted,  just  as  we 
see  objects  in  a  concave  speculum.  The 
good  works,  according  to  his  scheme,  are 
the  recommending  cause,  and  the  blessed 
Hedeemer  only  like  the  master  of  the  cere- 
monies, merely  to  introduce  them  with  a 
pood  grace.  No,  we  have  not  so  learned 
Christ ;  he  is  our  righteousness,  as  well  as 
our  sanctification.  "VVe  are  accepted  in  the 
beloved  :  "  In  him  shall  all  the  seed  of 
Israel  be  justified,  and  in  him  shall  they 
glory."  This  is  the  epidemical  mistake  ; 
but  I  hope  God  will  send  out  his  light  and 
his  truth,  and  rectify  our  misapprehensions. 
I  dare  say  that  amiable  and  accomplished 
gentleman,  that  exemplary  and  shining 
Christian,  that  very  zealous  and  successful 
preacher,  Mr.  T n,  will  be  highly  pleas- 
ed to  receive  the  present  of  your  little  trea- 
tise ;  his  good  heart  will  exult  to  see  your 
open  acknowledgment  of  the  Saviour  whom 
he  so  dearly  loves.  I  hope  to  see  you,  or 
hear  from  you,  before  you  take  your  jour- 
ney ;  and  am,  with  increasing  esteem  and 
jiffection,  most  cordially  yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXV. 

My  dear  Friend, — Your  very  kind 
present  is  come  to  our  hands,  and  has  made 
its  appearance.     You  give  me,  as  Theron 

Bays,  i/cc/jo/^Soi  ivviaSoiMv, 

All  I  can  say  is.  May  the  Lord  supply 
your  every  need  (both  bodily  and  spiritual), 
according  to  his  riches  in  glory  by  Christ 
Jesus ! 

I  am  sorry  my  brother  wrote  so  warm  a 

letter  to  Mr.  A y  about  his  attenipt  to 

purchase  the  closes  at  Weston,  which  lie 
so  commodious  for  us.  The  world's  maxim 
is,  Catch  as  catch  can  :  But  our  Saviour's 
direction  is,  "  Be  anxious  for  nothing." 
Never  fear  but  we  shall  make  a  shift  without 
these  closes  to  pass  through  the  wilderness, 
and  arrive  at  the  heavenly  Canaan.  Were 
not  your  thoughts  upon  that  eternal  home 

when  you  attended  Mr.  L 's  corpse  to 

the  tomb  ?  One  of  the  texts  to  which 
I  directed  my  people  on  Sunday  was  2 
Cor.  Y.  1,  and  which,  I  hope,  the  omni- 
present God  is  now  impressing  on  their 
consciences,  and  mixing  with  faith. 

The  elegant  Paterculus  I  here  return  ; 
and  the  evangelical  Marshall  I  recommend 
to  your  repeated  perusal.  I  wish  you  studied 
him  more ;  for  then  you  would  like  him 
better  than  you  seem  to  do  at  present  -.  you 
own  there  are  jnany  excellent  directions  in 


him  ;  and  those  parts  which  you  now  think 
obscure  would  riot  appear  so  on  a  more 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  author. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  such  a  character  of  l\Ir. 

.     I  hope  you  will  be  an   instrument 

in  our  Lord's  hand  of  improving  his  valual)le 
dispositions,  of  ripening  the  man  of  honour 
into  the  servant  of  Christ.  I  think  Dr. 
Akenside*  has,  if  not  spoiled  his  ode,  much 
injured  the  dignity  and  beauty  of  his  senti- 
ments, by  writing  in  Spenser's  measure, 
and  sometimes  in  his  drawling  style.  '•  ^Vhile 
he  doth  riot's  orgies  haply  share."  For  an 
ode,  whei'e  we  expect  all  the  harmony  of 
numbers,  and  the  highest  polish  of  language, 
this  manner  surely  is  improper.  I  keep  it 
a  little  longer,  perhaps  it  may  please  better 
on  the  second  leading. 

I  wish  you  and  your  lady  much  joy  at 
Christmas,  or  ra'her  all  joy  in  Christ.  He 
is  come,  he  is  come  to  judge  the  eurth  ;  t  > 
do  that  for  enslaved  and  mini  d  mankind 
which  the  heroic  judges  of  old  did  for  Israel, 
to  deliver  them  from  bondaf^,  and  establish 
them  in  peace.  Is  not  this  the  sense  of 
Psalm  xcvi.  1 1 — 13  ?  Ah  !  what  pity  that, 
while  so  many  heroes  are  celebrated,  "Jesus, 
the  desire  of  nations,"  and  "  the  brightness 
of  his  Father's  glory,"  should  be  totally 
disregarded.  Thou  high  and  holy  One, 
since  authors  of  genius  withhold  the  tribute 
of  praise,  glorify  thy  name  by  a  worm,  by 
impotence,  by,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXVL 

Weston,  June  7,  17j6. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir, — Do  you  not 
take  it  amiss  that  I  have  answered  your 
last  kind  letter  no  sooner?  I  have  such  a 
multiplicity  of  epistolary  engagements,  and 
such  a  poor  pittance  of  strength,  that  1 
caimot  be  so  punctual  in  my  acknowledg- 
ments as  my  friends  may  expect,  and  as  I 
myself  wish. 

You  desired  to  see  Mr.  Boyse's  letter 
to  me.  I  here  enclose  it ;  and  it  should 
have  been  sent  to  you  earlier,  but  I  could 
not  find  it  amidst  the  confused  heap  of  my 
papers  till  yesterday.  I  am  very  soiry  to 
hear  he  is  so  ill,  as  there  is  little  probability 
of  expecting  any  thing  further  from  his  mas- 
terly pen.  I  really  think  his  little  poem 
entitled  Deity,  (in  which  he  is  not  unmind- 
ful of  the  great  Redeemer),  is  as  useful  and 
fine  a  piece  of  poetryf  as  most  in  the  Eng- 
lish language.  I  so  much  admire  it,  that  I 
have  insensibly  as  it  were  got  it  by  heart. 
God  grant  that  it  may  be  influential  on 
every  reader. 


*  ^eel.etter  CLXIT. 
t  SeeLrtter  .V\XIX. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


mo 


I  was  readinp;  the  other  day  a  curious 
1)ook,  written  by  Mr.  Fleming,  and  entitled, 
'I'he  fiiUilliiig  of  the  Scriptures  coniolete  ; 
in  which  I  met  with  a  valuable  quotation 
from  Lutlier's  letter  to  Melancthon,  who 
was  then  in  much  anguish  on  the  apparent 
hazards  of  those  times.  "  If  this,"  says 
Luther,  "  be  the  cause  of  (»o(l,  iiiid  not  of 
man,  then  all  the  burden  should  be  cast  on 
him.  Why  dost  thou  alHiet  and  turnient 
thyself,  seeing  God  hath  t!:iven  his  bun  for 
lis?  Why  do  we  tremble  or  fear?  Will 
he  forsake  us  in  smaller  things,  who  has 
given  us  so  great  a  gift,  ?  Is  Satan  stronger 
than  (iod  ?  Should  we  fear  the  world, 
which  Christ  has  overcome  ^  If  the  cause 
we  contend  for  be  not  the  truth,  let  us 
change;  but  if  the  cause  be  holy  and  just, 
why  do  we  not  credit  the  promise  and  tauh- 
fulness  of  God  ?  It  is  certain  Satan  can 
it-ach  no  farther  than  this  jnesent  liie  ;  but 
Christ  reigneth  fur  ever,  under  whose  [)ro- 
tection  the  truth  now  is  ;  he  will  ncjt  fail 
to  be  with  us  unto  the  end.  If  he  be  not 
with  us,  I  beseech  you  tell  me  where  he 
shall  be  fuimd  ?  If  we  be  not  of  his  church, 
do  yon  think  that  the  bishop  of  Rome  and 
our  adversaries  are  of  it  ?  We  are  indeed 
sinners,  but  Christ  is  true,  whose  cause  we 
have  in  hand  ;  which  he  has  hitherto  main- 
tained without  our  counsel,  and  so  he  wiil 
do  unto  the  end."  Mr.  Fleming  then  just;- 
ly  obs(Mves,  that  Luther  lested  on  Christ, 
whtii  all  visible  props  broke  imder  him. 

Yv'hat  animating  considerations  are  these 
under  all  the  discouragements  we  may  meet 
\7ith  in  our  ministerial  labours  ?  How  does 
the  work  of  the  Lord  prosper  in  your  hand  ? 
?vlay  you  be  in  this  respect  as  a  fruitftd 
bough  by  the  wall ;  may  your  people  sit 
tinder  your  shadow  with  great  delight,  and 
your  fruit  be  sweet  unto  them.  I  am  yours, 
kc. 

Tlie  Jhllowing  is  a  genuine  copij  of  Mr. 
lioYSii's  Letter  to  Mr.  IIeuvey.* 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir, — For  your 
tender  admonitions  and  excellent  advice,  I 
am  truly  indebted  to  you  ;  as  they  discover 
a  generous  and  compassionate  concern  for 
my  better  part.  I  bless  God,  I  have  reason 
to  hope  that  great  work  is  not  to  do  ;  for 
of  all  the  marks  of  infatuation  I  know 
amongst  men,  there  can  be  none  equal  to 
that  of  trusting  to  a  death-ljed  rejjcntance. 

I  do  not  pieteiid  to  vindicate  my  own 
conduct ;  nor  can  I  ever  forget  the  very 
f'/hristian  sense  of  my  condition  and  misi'or- 
tnnes,  which  (notwithstanding  all  my  niis- 
behaviour)    you    have    so    pathetically    ex- 


*  Mr.  BoysediPd  soon  after  he  wrote  this  letter  to 
Mr.  Her^ey.  Hi.i  potm,  entitled  Deitv,  hat  vassed 
through  •c\ era!  ediliom. 


pressed.  The  follies  of  my  youth  liave 
furnished  a  plentifid  harvest  of  reflection 
for  my  latter  years.  As  I  have  been  now 
for  a  long  time  in  a  manner  buried  from  the 
world,  so  it  has  been  my  endeavour  to  spend 
that  time  in  lamenting  my  ]jast  errors,  and 
in  pursuing  a  course  of  life  void  of  oifence 
towards  God  and  man. 

I  have  learned  to  trust  in  God  as  my  oidy 
portion  ;  to  bless  him  for  his  fatherly  correc- 
tions, which  have  been  much  gentler  than 
my  demerit,  and  by  which  I  have  been 
taught  to  know  him  and  myself;  his  infinite 
mercy  and  goodness  ;  my  own  ingratitude 
and  unworthiness  :  so  that  I  may  truly  say 
with  the  returning  prodigal,  "  Father,  I 
have  sinned  against  heaven,  and  against  thee, 
and  am  not  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son." 

flly  health  is  in  a  very  precarious  state  ; 
and  the  greatest  hopes  of  recovery  1  have 
(which  are  very  small)  arise  from  warm 
weather  and  the  country  air.  1  thank  God 
I  am  absolutely  resigned  to  his  holy  and 
blessed  will.  I  have  seen  enough  of  the 
vanity  and  folly  of  earthly  things,  and  how 
ijisuflicient  they  are  to  satisfy  the  desires  of 
an  immortal  soul.  I  am  sensible  of  my  ov>ii 
wretchedness  and  nothingness,  and  that  my 
only  hope  of  salvation  is  through  that  bless- 
ed Redeemer,  who  died  to  save  lost  siimers. 
This  is  my  rock  of  hope  against  an  ap- 
proaching eternity. 

May  you  long,  sir,  taste  those  true  and 
unfading  pleasures,  which  attend  the  prac- 
tice of  religion  and  virtue  ;  and  may  you,  by 
your  shining  example,  be  a  means  of  turn- 
ing many  to  righteousness.  This  is  the 
sincere  and  ever-grateful  wish  of  your  most 
obliged  and  f.uthful  servant,     S.  liovsE. 


LETTER  CLXVIL 

Dear  Sir, — The  following  is  an  extract 
of  a  letter,  wrote  by  a  young  creature  labour- 
ing under  an  incm-able  distemper,  and  lan- 
guishing in  the  near  ajifjroaches  of  death. 

"  I  am  at  this  time  more  happy  than 
tongue  can  express.  Never  did  1  feel  so 
much  of  the  love  of  Christ  shed  abroad  in 
my  heart,  as  now.  He  has  given  me  fidl  as- 
surance that  he  has,  out  of  love  to  my  soul, 
cast  all  my  sins  behind  his  buck,  Isaiah 
xxxviii.  17.  And  oh!  why  need  1  fear 
death,  when  the  sting  is  taken  away  ?  No ; 
though  I  am  a  siimer,  yet  I  have  an  advocate 
with  the  Father  :  and  though,  while  I  con- 
tinue in  this  vile  body,  1  fear  1  shall  too 
often  grieve  him,  yet  is  his  love  still  the 
same  ;  which  makes  nie  abhor  myself,  that 
ever  I  shoidd  sin  against  so  kind,  so  com- 
passioiuite  a  Saviour." 

See  by  this  how  the  jioor  receive,  how  the 
poor  believe,  and  how  the  poor  adorn  the 


890 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


gospel  of  God  our  Saviour.  This  has  in- 
deed no  sreut  authority  to  digiiif}'  it,  no 
flowers  of  eloquence  to  recommend  it ;  no- 
thing but  the  transparent  sincerity  and  the 
native  sublimity  of  its  piety.  It  breathes, 
however,  the  very  spirit  which  I  long  to 
attain  ;  and  though  it  comes  from  a  person 
in  low  life  and  of  no  education,  yet  I  believe 
veiy  few,  even  amongst  the  names  of  highest 
distinction  for  wit,  genius,  and  learning,  will 
he  able,  in  the  same  circumstances,  to  exer- 
cise the  same  magnanimity  of  mind, — I  am 
yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXVIir. 

Weston- Favell,  Aug.  13,  1756. 

Dear  Sir, — Yesterday  I  received  the 
favour  of  your  letter  ;  was  surprised  to  find 
you  so  near  me,  and  grieved  to  hear  of  the 
occasion.  Oh  !  that  both  of  us  may  be  en- 
abled to  cast  all  our  care  upon  the  Almighty ! 
for  surely  he  who  gave,  not  an  archangel, 
not  a  world,  but  himself,  his  most  blessed 
self,  for  our  sins,  surely  he  careth  for  us. 

Fes,  dear  sir,  I  think  from  my  very  heart, 
that  the  grand  controversy  which  the  King  of 
heaven  has  with  our  nation,  is  for  our  pre- 
vailing contempt  of  his  most  adorable  Son 
Jesus  Christ ;  a  gift,  compared  with  which 
every  thing  in  earth  or  sky,  is  lighter  than 
dust  upon  the  scale ;  a  gift,  by  which  an 
omnipotent  and  eternal  God  not  only  de- 
monstrates, but  commands  his  love.  Match- 
less then  and  unspeakable  must  it  be  !  See 
how  the  pro})het  Isaiah  e.\ults  and  triumphs 
in  this  glorious  gift.  With  an  ardour  of 
gratitude,  and  with  a  transport  of  delight,  he 
cries,  "  To  us  a  Child  is  born ;  to  us  a  Son 
is  given  ;"  in  whose  person  is  a  dignity,  and 
in  whose  righteousness  an  efficacy,  infinitely 
surpassing  the  power  of  thought.  And 
should  not  such  a  gift  be  the  darling  topic 
of  our  conversation  ;  be  the  avowed  glory 
and  the  general  joy  of  our  nation  ?  Yet, 
strange  to  tell  !  afflictivr^  to  observe  !  this 
divinely  excellent  gift  is  forgot,  is  rejected, 
or  treated  with  the  most  cold  indifference. 
Where  are  the  people  who  mention  it,  or  can 
bear  to  hear  it  mentioned  in  their  company? 
Instead  of  being  in  raptures  at  the  sound, 
are  they  not  disgusted  and  chagrined  ?  And 
does  not  God  behold  all  this  ?  Did  he  ever 
receive  so  horrid  an  affront,  or  is  it  possible 
for  his  creatures  to  act  a  more  contumelious 
and  disdainful  part?  But  whither  am  I 
running?  Pardon  me,  dear  sir,  pardon  my 
full  heart,  my  wounded  heart,  which  has  con- 
curred to  aggravate  this  crying  iniquity.  Oh  ! 
that  its  invariable  language,  for  the  future, 
may  be,  "  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory," 
or  rejoice,  or  conlide,  "  save  in  the  cross  of 
Christ  Jesus   my  Lord  :"  in   him    I    have 


pardon  of  my  sins  ;  in  him  I  have  peace  with 
God  ;  in  him  I  have  eternal  life.  Therie- 
fore,  "  Ilim  first,  him  last,  him  midst,  and 
without  end,"*  will  I  remember,  acknow- 
ledge, celebrate. 

Kow  you  are  come  so  far,  coidd  you  not 
make  a  little  farther  excursion  ?  Could  vou 
not  favour  us  with  your  company  at  Wes- 
ton ?  where  you  would  find  a  plain  house 
and  a  faithful  heart  open  to  receive  you.  I 
have  no  news  from  the  literary  world  ;  and 
my  orders  to  my  bookseller  are  few.  But 
having  occasion  to  write,  not  long  ago,  to 
Amsterdam,  I  sent  for  all  my  favourite  au- 
thor's works  :  Witsius  1  mean ;  the  polite 
and  pious  Vv'itsius.  My  bookseller  is  re- 
printing in  two  volumes,  at  my  desire,  Jenks's 
Meditations ;  which  I  propose  to  recommend 
by  a  prefatory  address  to  the  public.  Let 
me  soon  hear  from  you,  if  I  cannot  see  you. 
And  may  your  letter  be  in  every  sense  an 
evangelist. — Ever  yours,  S;c. 


LETTER  CLXIX. 

Weston-Favell,  March  3,  1756. 

Dear  Sir, — In  a  preceding  letter,  I  beg- 
ged your  solution  of  some  scriptural  difficul- 
ties. As  you  always  used  even  to  prevent 
my  expectations,  in  a  free  and  speedy  com- 
munication of  yoiu-  valuable  sentiments; 
and  as  I  have  not  enjoyed  that  pleasure  for  a 
long  season,  I  am  under  some  apprehensions 
that  either  you  are  visited  with  sickness,  or 
my  despatches  have  met  ■with  a  miscaiTiage. 
I  hope,  after  the  receipt  of  this,  you  will  find 
some  way  to  relieve  me  from  my  perplexity. 

Reading  yesterday,  Exod.  xiv.  methought 
there  was  some  appearance  of  tautology  in 
verse  7,  Heb.  If  in  either  of  the  clauses  we 
might  render  the  word  "  ecc,"  by  horsemen, 
this  seeming  impropriety  would  be  avoided. 
It  would  also  more  exactly  agree  with  "  dcb 
VTDSHM,"  the  28th  verse.  Is  not  our  me- 
thod of  translating  verse  20,  somewhat  for- 
ced, and  hardly  reconcilable  with  the  ge- 
nius of  the  original  language  ? 

Hab.  iii.  5,  "  ltgv  ld."  This  sentence 
also  embarrassed  me  a  little.  How  does  it, 
as  translated  in  the  English  Bible,  agree 
with  the  history  ?  Is  there  any  account,  or 
any  hint,  that  the  pestilence  went  before 
the  Lord,  when  he  descended  on  Mount  Si- 
nai ?     Theie  went  indeed  a  wonderful  word 

"  I)BU,"  TO  liaft>.Xof/.ivcv  (pcuvn  pifiafaiv.      Does 

this  passage  refer  to  the  plagues  inflicted  on 
the  Israelites  for  their  murmuring  and  rebel- 
lion ?  I  think  not,  because  the  sacred  hymn 
appears  calculated  for  the  encouragement  of 
the  people,  whereas  this  circumstance  would 
rather  clepress  their  spirits.      Does  it  point 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


891 


at  the  plagtips  and  the  vengeance  executed 
on  tlie  Egyptians  ?  This,  I  believe,  is  most 
jirobable,  and  perhaps  affords  us  the  true 
nieaiiing  of  the  ]»assage.  Pray,  favour  me, 
if  yoii  liave  health  and  leisure,  ^^'ith  your 
opinion,  which,  I  assure  you,  is  highly  valu- 
ed,  and  always  thatikfully  received  by,  dear 
sir,  your  obliged  and  adectionate  friend,  &c. 

What  precedes  was  written  before  the  re- 
cei])t  of  your  last. 

I  thank,  you,  dear  sir,  for  your  letter,  and 
thank  you  doubly  because  it  is  long.  I  re- 
ceived it  on  coming  from  my  "Wednesday's 
evening  lecture  :  have  read  one  sheet,  and 
entered  «[)on  the  second,  but  am  now  called 
down  to  family  jirayer.  ]  shall  add  no  more, 
only  let  me  desLie  you  to  favour  me  with 
the  criticisms  you  mention.  I  beseech  the 
lilessed  God  to  establish  your  health,  and 
])rolong  your  life,  that  you  may  enrich  me 
and  others  with  many  of  )oiu'  letters,  and 
much  of  your  knowledge. 


LETTER  CLXX. 

Saturday  mnndi^g. 
My  DEAit  Friend, — I  congratulate  you 
on  the  acceptance  of  your  little  tract,  and 
the  uncommon  demand  for  it.  Ined  sua 
yiatia  jiarvis,  is  a  maxim  of  more  wis- 
dom and  weight  than  we  easily  apprehend. 
May  tlie  blessing  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
accompany  it,  always  and  in  all  places  !  I 
nmst  desire  you  to  excuse  my  waiting  upon 
you.  The  season  is  sO  rigorous,  I  am  afraid 
to  stir  abroad.  I  f|Utstion  whether  I  shall 
have  courage  to  venture  to  C  ollingtree  to- 
morrow. You  know  I  am  one  of  the  snail 
kind,  both  in  travelling,  reading,  and  writ- 
ing. My  thanks  to  Mr.  Fenwiek  ;  1  have 
just  peeped  upon  his  work:*  I  fear  it  will 
he  thought  by  the  world  too  linely  s])uii. 
You  once  asked  my  opinion  concerning  Ur. 
Grey's  last  words  of  David,  divined  accord- 
ing to  the  metre.  I  had  not  then  read  it 
with  due  attention.  1  lately  ijcrused  it  very 
carefully,  and  am  charmed  with  the  import- 
ance oi'  his  correction  and  the  beauty  of  the 
])assage,  as  it  stands  amended  by  that  judi- 
cious critic  ;  though,  1  must  own.  I  do  not 
admire  the  alteration  suggested  by  Eishop 
Sherlock,  in  his  letter  to  Dr.  (irey.  "  A 
sun  shall  rise  as  the  morning,"  seems  to  have 
vejy  little  spirit,  and  less  propriety.  Is  it 
not  bordering  uj)on  idem  per  idem  ?  ^Yhat  is 
the  morning,  but  the  rising  of  the  sun?  ask 
your  accurate  tiiend's  opinion.  If  the  other 
passages  of  Scrijjture,  mentioned  by  Dr. 
Grey  in  the  front  of  this  little  piece  as  what 


*  Tliniinhts  on  the  Hebrew  Titles  of  the  Rsalms, 
endcavourinp  to  iliSLO\cr  Ihtii  meaiiini:,  anil  I'oint 
out  their  use. 


he  soon  intends  to  publish,  afa  as  valuably 
restored,  and  as  elegantly  interpreted  as  this, 
the  suppression  of  them  will  be  a  great  loss. 
I  will,  on  your  encouragement,  go  on  with  my 
book  in  my  piddling  way.  Happy  if  my 
own  heart  may  be  impressed  with  the  evan- 
gelical truths,  even  though  they  should  reach, 
as  handled  by  this  pen,  no  farther.      I  had 

like  to  have  forgot  INIr. 's  letter  ;  and  if 

I  had  forgot  it,  you  might  justly  wonder  at 
my  stupidity.  "What  a  man  is  he  !  sure  the 
age  does  not  produce  a  more  genuine  copy 
of  his  di\-ine  Master.  "What  a  letter  has  he 
wrote !  what  dignity  of  sentiment !  what 
true  greatness  of  soul !  what  openness  of 
heart  !  what  boldness  of  speech,  and  just- 
ness of  reproof,  sweetened  witli  what  love ! 
tempered  with  what  humility  !  Uow  I  love 
the  excellent  man !  Was  not  your  soul  asham- 
ed while  you  read  it?  and  did  not  your  heart 
burn  within  you,  as  the  disciples'  did  when 
talking  with  Christ  in  their  way  to  Em. 
maus  ? 

I  am  really  afraid  to  read  Spenser's  Fairy 
Queen.  He  is  in  fancy  superior,  perhaps, 
to  every  poet,  yet  so  luscious  in  some  of  his 
re]iresentations,  which  1  have  casually  dip- 
ped upon,  that  it  is  impossible,  for  mk  at 
least,  to  advert  to  them  without  catching 
contagion.  His  pictures  of  this  sort  are 
drawn  with  a  good  design.  He  makes  his 
heroes  victors  of  the  soft  allurements.  But, 
I  believe,  few  minds  are  so  case-hardened 
against  sensual  pleasure,  as  not  to  receive 
disadvantageous  impressions.  I  am  there- 
fore determined  never  to  look  into  it  again, 
never  to  gather  the  honey  of  poetry  from 
the  briers  of  contamination,  "  Flee  temp- 
tation," is  the  advice  of  an  inspired  apostle, 
and  I  will  jiay  the  due  regard  to  it.  I  am, 
dear  sir,  with  great  respect,  your  most  ob- 
liged, and  \  ery  affectionate  servant,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXXL 

Weston-FavcU,  T)ec.  6,  1756. 

Sin, — I  received  your  obliging  and  valu- 
able present  of  the  Scriptural  Poems  wrote 
by  an  American.  It  is  an  extraordinary 
perfoimance,  considering  the  disadvantage- 
ous circumstances  under  which  the  author 
laboured.  A  spirit  of  zeal  and  de\otion 
animates  the  whole.  There  are,  too,  some 
elevated  thoughts  and  line  lines  in  it,  parti- 
cularly in  that  part  of  his  poems  he  entitles 
"  Man's  fall  and  exaltation,  or  the  Chris- 
tian triumph." 

1  hope  the  sale  of  it  will  answer  your  ex- 
pectation ;  and  reeom))ense  the  cost  you 
have  bestowed  in  ))rinting  it  so  elegantly, 
and  on  so  line  a  pajicr.  But  be  that  as  it 
may,  you  have  my  best  wishes  that  it  may 
become  the  darling  of  the  public  j  and  you 


892  A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 

liave  at:  the  same  time  the  sincere  thanks 
of,  611-,  jour  obliged  humble  servant. 


LETTER  CLXXn. 


Dear    Sir,— Tell    our  ingenious  friend 

at ,  if  I  did  not  give  a  direct  answer  to 

his  question,  it  was  because  he  had  stated  it 
improperly.  His  manner  was  like  making 
a  raw  apothecary's  apprentice  the  proper 
judge  of  a  doctor's  bill.  If  such  a  chap 
should  take  upon  him  to  say.  Doctor,  your 
language  is  unintelligible,  your  recipes  are 
injudicious,  what  answer  would  you  make? 
Some  such  answer  must  be  made,  even  to 

Dr.  C and  Mr.  O ,  if  they  or  Dr 

C maintain,  or  would  insinuate,  that 

the  mystery  of  sanctification,  as  delineated 
by  Marshall,  is  unintelligible  and  injudici- 
ous, merely  because  they  do  not  immediate- 
ly discern  its  propriety.  I  own  the  third 
and  fourth  direction  of  Mr.  Marshall  seem 
obscure ;  but  this  does  not  arise  from  any 
improper  manner  of  treating  the  subjects, 
but  from  the  mysterious  nature  of  the  sub- 
jects themselves. 

This,  says  Dr.  C ,  is  my  firm   faith, 

«'  that,  if  we  do  well,  we  shall  be  accepted 
through  the  merits  of  Christ."  I  might 
ask  the  Doctor  whether  he  does  well  ? 
Dare  he  avow  this,  even  before  me  his  fel- 
low-worm,  and  fellow-sinner  ?  How  then 
will  he  maintain  the  pretension  before  that 
infinitely  pure  God,  in  whose  sight  the  very 
heavens  are  unclean  ?  But  I  choose  to 
ask  him,  (what  may  seem  less  off"ensive,) 
"  has  he  never  read  of  the  righteousness  of 
faith  ?"  Rom.  x.  6.  Of  being  "  snade 
righteous  by  one  man's  obedience?"  Rom. 
V.  19.  Of  "  righteousness  imputed  with- 
out works  ?"  Rom.  iv.  6.  Now  I  should 
be  glad  to  learn,  what  the  Holy  Spirit 
means  by  these  expressions  ?  And  if  our 
worthy  friend  pleases  to  show,  how  his 
faith  can  be  made  conformable  to  any  one 
of  these  texts,  I  will  undertake  to  demon- 
strate the  conformity  of  my  faith  to  them 
all.  Ah  !  why  should  we  hug  a  despica- 
ble rag,  and  reject  a  suit  of  beautiful  ap- 
parel ?  The  Lord  Jesus  enable  us  all  to 
discern  the  things  that  are  excellent  ! 

Let  me  this  Christmas  wish  you  and 
Mrs.  all  joy  and  peaco  in  Christ  Je- 
sus. These  are  the  true  compliments  of 
the  season,  and  therefore  sent  by  your  true 
friend,  &c. 


love  and  esteem  him  more  on  account  of 
his  kind  acceptance  of  my  free  admonitions. 
Do,  my  dear  friend,  let  us  remember  how 
important  the  hours  of  our  present  life, 
and  the  moments  of  social  intercourse  are. 

Dr.  W of  Worcester,  who  has  a  fine 

taste  for  painting,  can,  though  engaged  in 
great  business,   paint,   and    talk   now    and 

then   upon   jiaintings  ;   Dr.    C of  St. 

Albans,  who  bus  a  fine  genius  for  poetry, 
though  amidst  a  variety  of  employs,  can 
write,  and  give  his  seiitnnents  on  poetry ; 

and  why  should  not  Dr.  S ,  though  in 

an  equally  large  sphere  of  action,  edify  his 
acquaintance  by  his  tongue  and  pen  with 
some  religious  hints?  This,  I  think,  is  his 
distinguishing  talent ;  and,  when  he  pleases, 
I  am  sure  no  man  knows  how  to  introduce 
Scripture  better,  or  to  converse  in  a  more 
striking  .manner.  Oh  !  that  a  stricture  of 
it  may  run  through,  brighten,  and  dignify 
his  temper,  his  business,  his  whole  conver- 
sation. 

You  are  perf^'ctly  right  in  esteeming 
those  authors  whose  piety  beams  through 
all  their  pages.  And  for  this  very  reason 
I  esteem,  admire,  and  embrace  Jeiiks' 
Works,  Marshall  on  Sanctification,  and 
Witherspoon  on  the  Imputed  Righteous- 
ness of  Christ ;  because  nothing  has  so 
efficacious  and  benign  an  influence  on  true 
piety  as  their  doctrines  ;  nothing  so  sweetly 
calms  the  conscience,  so  thoroughly  refines 
the  affections,  or,  to  say  all  in  a  word,  so 
eiJectually  sheds  abroad  the  love  of  God  in 
the  heart. 

I  wish  you  and  Mrs.  S abundance 

of  comfort  in  Miss  Sophia.  It  was  said  of 
one,  Nabal  is  his  name,  and  folly  is  with 
bun,  I  Sam.  xxv.  23.  So  I  say  of  your 
infant  daughter,  Sophia  is  her  name,  and 
may  wisdom  be  with  her  !  even  the  «  avuSi* 
iro^pm,  "  the  wisdom  from  above,"  which 
St.  James  so  charmingly  describes  in  chap, 
iii.  17,  and  not  with  her  only,  but  with  her 
parents,  and  with  their  truly  atfectionate 
friend. 


LETTER  CLXXIII. 

Weston,  Saturday  morning. 
Mi;cH  I  loved,  and  much  I  esteemed  my 
dcai  friend  before;  Inic  now,  metliinks,   I 


LETTER  CLXXIV. 

Weston- Farell,  July  26,  1756. 
Now,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  procured 
your  favourite  author,  Downham's  Chris- 
tian Warfare  against  the  Devil,  the  World, 
and  the  Flesh.  He  is  indeed  a  pleasing, 
perspicuous  writer  :  the  language,  as  you 
observed,  remaikahly  pure  and  correct  ;  he 
is  very  experimental,  anil  enieis  into  the 
distresses  of  tempted  souls;  many  things 
uie  sweet,  comfortalle,  charming.  Some- 
times, I  think,  he  dtaws  a  little  veil  over 
it'.e  grace  of  God,  jiot  suffering  it  to  blaze 
out  in    its  full    lustre  and  glory.      Do  not 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


fiiVl 


you  think  he  is  somewhat  inaccurate  in 
stating  the  nature  of  justification  ?  Lib.  ii. 
chap.  50.  "  Justification,"  he  say-s,  "con- 
fiisteth  in  two  parts  :  the  first,  reinission  of 
(riv  sins  for  the  full  satisfaction  of  Christ 
by  his  death  and  sniferings  ;  the  other,  the 
imputation  of  his  habitual  and  active  rif;lit- 
eou>iness."  Should  if  not  rather  he,  .Jus- 
tification consists  of  two  parts  :  the  first, 
remission  of  our  sins ;  the  second,  being 
perfectly  righteous  in  God's  sight :  and 
both  these  spring  from  the  imputation  of 
Christ's  righteousness  to  the  poor  sinner. 

I  find  from  your  manuscript  it  is  your 
opinion,  that  tlie  antcdihivian  sacrifices  were 
slain  by  the  sword  of  the  cherubim  planted 
and  waved  at  the  entrance  of  Eden.  This 
is  a  very  remarkable  and  very  awful  cir- 
cumstance ;  and,  if  true,  very  worthy  of 
particular  notice.  But  what  reasons  have 
you,  dear  sir,  for  the  support  of  this  senti- 
ment ?  Be  so  kind  as  to  mention  them  at 
your  leisure. 

Mr.  P ,  about  a  week  after  his  return 

to  Northamptonshire,  gave  me  your  letter. 
J  fear  he  wiJl  become  a  prey  to  the  allure- 
ments of  the  world.  1  believe  he  is  not 
very  zealous  for  the  gospel  of  Christ.  I  am 
preity  sure  he  does  not  love  the  servants  of 
our  Lord  ;  therefore  I  expect  that,  from 
this  quarter,  my  character  will  sooti  be  put 
under  an  eclipse  ;  nor  shall  I  be  much 
disiippoinied  if,  by  this  incident,  my  new 
friend  is  put  away  from  my  sight.  Thanks 
for  yoiu' hint  concerning  my  conduct;  it  is 
very  seasonable,  and  shall  be  observed. 

1  have  sometimes  thought  that  the  best, 
strongest  proof  of  a  future  state  of  happi- 
ness occurring  in  the  Old  Testament,  is 
deducible  from  the  liistory  of  Enoch. 
"  Enoch  walked  with  God,''  was  high  in 
his  favour,  and  had  much  communion  with 
him  :  it  is  recorded  as  a  singular  reward  of 
his  holy  and  exemplary  life,  that  "  he  was 
not,  for  (jod  took  him."  Now,  if  the  an- 
cient peoi)le  of  God  had  no  notion  of  a 
future  state  of  hap])iness,  what  strange 
apprehensions  must  they  form  concerning 
this  instance  of  the  divine  ))rocedure  ?  At 
this  rate,  Jehovah  must  ajjpear  to  punish 
in  the  most  exem;)lary  and  dreadful  manner 
his  first  and  greatest  favourite.  Whereas, 
su[ipose  them  rooted  in  the  belief  of  a  much 
happier  condition  succeeiling-  the  present 
life,  and  the  case  is  plain,  and  God  is  jus- 
tified in  his  doings.  Please  to  give  ine 
your  opinion  as  to  this  argument- 

I  hope  yon  are  thinking  of  your  new  ver- 
sion of  Psalm  civ.  «hich  will  be  very  agree- 
able, and,  1  hope,  not  a  little  edifying,  to, 
(k'ar  sir,  your  much  obliged  and  atTectionate 
friend,  &c. 

P.S — T  here  send  you  INTr.  IMoses 
Brow-ne's  almost  literal  translation  of  Lu- 
ther's most  comfortable  hymii,  which   is  in 


very  considerable  esteem  in  the  German 
church.  Zimmcrmannus  derognitionis  Christi 
eminentin,  is  a  comment  on  it,  and  is  now 
translating  by  Mr.  Browne  at  my  desire. 

LUTHER'S  HYMN. 

IN  EIGHT  rnACTICAL  RITLKS. 
T. 

'Tis  not  too  arduous  an  Msry, 
To  tread  resolved  the  gospel-way ; 
The  sensual  instinct  to  control. 
And  warm  with  ))urer  fire  the  soul. 
Nature  may  raise  her  fleshly  strife. 
Reluctant  to  the  heavenly  life; 
I.oath  in  a  Saviour's  death  to  share. 
Her  daily  cross  compell'd  to  bear : 
But  grace  omnipotent,  at  len(,'th, 
>ha!)  arm  the  saint  with  sav  inj;  strength: 
Througli  the  sharp  war  with  aids  attend. 
And  his  long  conflict  sweetly  end. 

Jiee  Zimmermanniu,  Ithge  5. 

II. 

Act  but  the  infant's  gentle  part; 
Give  up  to  love  thy  willing  heart: 
No  fondest  parent's  melting  breast 
Yearns,  like  thy  tiod's,  to  make  thee  blest: 
Taught  its  dear  mother  soon  to  know. 
The  tenderest  babe  his  love  can  show  ; 
B'd  thy  base  servile  fear  retire. 
This  task  no  labour  will  require. 

Zimmcrmanmu,  page  IL 

III. 

The  SovErEiGH  Kathkb,  gooAandkind, 
Wants  but  to  have  his  child  resigned  ; 
Watitsbut  thy  yielded  heart  (no  more!) 
AV.tli  his  large  gifts  of  grace  to  store. 
He  to  Thy  soul  no  anguish  brings, 
Krom  thine  own  stubborn  will  it  springs: 
That  foe  but  ciucify,  <tliy  bane  I) 
Nought  ihalt  thou  know  of  frotvnsor  pain. 
Limmei  mannits,  p;.ge  17- 

IV. 

Shake  from  thy.soul,  o'erwhelmed,  deprest. 
The  encumbering  load  that  galls  her  rest ; 

That  wastes  her  strength  in  bondage  vaui : 

With  courage  break  the  enslaving  chain. 
Let  prayer  exert  iis  coii<|iieiing  power; 
try  in  toy  tempted  trembling  hour, 

"  Sly  God,  my  Father  !  save  thy  son  !" 

'Tis  heard, — and  all  thy  fears  are  done. 

Zimmeruiannus,  page  32, 


Yet  if  (more  earnest  plaints  to  raise) 
Thy  God  a  while  his  aid  delays. 
Though  you  don't  noiv  his  kind  hand  feel. 
Thy  grief  let  lenient  pntience  heal. 
Or  if  corruption's  strength  prevail, 
Aiul  oft  thy  pilgrim  footsteps  fail  ; 
Pray  for  his  grace  with  louder  cries, 
So  shalt  thou  cleansed  and  stronger  rise. 

Zimmermantius,  pdge  4X 

These  next  lines  within  brackets,  do  not 
belong  to  Luther's  hymn,  but  are  used  by 
Zimmcrmannus,  page  52,  as  an  illustration 
of  the  preceding  stanza. 

[The  faster  hold  my  f.iitb  on  Jesus  takes, 

I  tis  brighter  glories  on  my  spirit  breaks. 

If  then  to  heaven  1  lift  my  votive  hands. 

Loves  strongest  tiame  my  raptured  soul  expands. 

Thee,  Lord,  she  loves,  and  would  with  zeal  forego 

A  thous.ind  worlds,  love  dear  as  thine  to  know  J 

Then  Luther's  hymn  proceeds  thus  : 

VL 
If  haply  still  tliy  mental  shade. 
Dark  as  the  midnight  gloom  be  made. 
On  the  sure  faithful  arm  divine 
Firm  let  thy  fiislening  trust  recline. 
The  gentlest  sire,  the  best  of  friends. 
To  thee  nor  loss  nor  harm  intends: 
Though  tost  on  a  tempestuous  main. 
No  wreck  thy  vessel  shall  sustaiu- 


894 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


Should  there  remain  of  rescuing  prace 
No  glimpse,  no  footstep  left  to  trace; 
Hear  tliy  Lord's  voice:— 'Tis  .li  sus'  v/ilU 
"  Believe,  thou  poor  dark  pilgrim,  still." 

2lmmermannus,  page  55. 

VII. 
Then  thy  sad  night  of  terrors  past, 
(Though  the  dread  season  long  may  last,) 
.Sweet  light  shall,  from  the  tranquil  skies. 
Like  a  fair  dawn,  before  thee  rise ; 
Then  shall  thy  faith's  bright  grounds  appear. 
Thine  eyes  shall  view  salvation  clear. 
Be  hence  encouraged  more,  when  tried. 
On  the  best  Father  to  confide: 
Ah  !  from  thy  mind  extirpate  quite 
'The  sickly  films  that  cloud  her  sight. 
See  !  of  how  rich  a  lot,  how  blest. 
The  true  believer  stands  possest ! 

Zhnmei-mannus,  pageC3. 

Tliese  lines  within  the  brackets,  do  not 
belong  to  Luther's  hymn,  but  are  used  by 
ZiminermiiMi;us  as  an  illustration  of  the 
preceding  stanza.      See  page  7'i. 

[Loose  from  hard  bonds,  my  God  !  a  mind 
In  chains  too  fast,  too  strait  confined  : 
I'm  heal'd  !  set  free !  from  sin  made  pure  ! 
Thy  blood,  my  Christ,  has  wrought  the  cure. 
I  feel  a  power  my  will  control  ! 
Quench  thy  long  drought,  my  thirsty  soul  I 
The  living  fountain  now  I've  found, 
Diffusing  bahny  streams  around.] 

Then  Luther's  hymn  concludes  with  tliis 
eighth  practical  rule. 

viir. 

Come,  backward  soul  I  to  God  resign ; 
Peace,  his  best  blessing, shall  be  thine: 
Boldly  iecuml)ent  on  his  care. 
Cast  thy  felt  burdens  only  thkhe. 

Zimmermannus,  page  £3, 


LETTER  CLXXV. 

Mvr  DEAR  Friend, — This  morning  I 
wrote  to  my  bookseller,  and  therein  told 
him,  that  I  think  he  need  not  be  much 
concerned  at  the  scurrilous  treatment  which 
the  reviewers  have  bestowed  on  my  edition 
of  Jenks's*  Meditations.  It  will  injin-e 
their  own  character,  and  lessen  their  own 
credit ;  not  depreciate  the  works  of  that 
excellent  man.  I  do  assure  you,  it  gives 
me  not  the  least  concern.  I  do  not  covet 
reputation.  I  deisire  every  day  to  be  more 
antl  more  dead  to  the  ho."  jur  that  conieth  of 
men.  Yet  it  is  my  sincere  opinion,  that 
such  very  foul  and  very  abusive  language, 
would  awaken  in  the  generous  reader  a  spi- 
rit of  resentment.     As  a  proof,  I  enclose 

a  letter  from  Mr.  P ,  a  very  ingenious 

young  clergyman,  whom  I  some  time  ago 
mentioned  to  you  under  this  chanicter.  The 
letter,  I  think,  will  do  him  as  much  honoin- 
as  it  does  me  ;  it  is  fit  to  appear  in  print ; 
but  I  would  on  no  account  take  any  such 
freedom  with  a  private  epistle.  I  would 
not  have  our  friend  in  London  give  himself 
any  manner  of  trouble  to  prevent  any  future 

•  tee  Mr.  Hcrvey's  preface  to  this  book,  p.  721. 


instances  of  this  kind  of  benevolence  frani 
the  reviewers.  I  depend  not  on  their  fa- 
vour, but  on  him  whom  heaven,  and  earth, 
and  hell  obey ;  who  constrained  even  Ba- 
laam to  say,  "  How  shall  I  cw'se  whom  ?iie 
Lord  hath  not  cursed?"  We  are  all  obliged 
to  my  dear  friend  for  interesting  himself  in 
our  behalf  ;  but  we  desire  him  not  to  t.ike 
the  trouble  of  writing  on  Tuesday,  becaust* 
it  will  be  too  late.      The  little  closes  are  to 

be  put  up  for  sale  on  IMonday,  and  A , 

will,  I  suppose,  outbid  my  brother  ;  yet,  if 
disappointed  in  this,  blessed  be  God  for  a 
treasure  in  heaven  that  faileth  not !  an  in- 
heritance that  is  not  perishable,  but  lasting 
as  eternity ;  not  tarnished,  but  free  from 
every  circumstance  of  alloy  ;  not  fading,  but 
always  in  the  fullest,  freshest  bloom  of 
perfection,  glory,  and  joy. 

Poor  Mr.    H r,    1  am  informed,  has 

almost  lost  his  sight,  is  extremely  ill;  iiis 
life,  it  is  ihought,  will  follow  his  siglu. 
Lord,  that  he  and  we  msy  see  by  faith  the 
Lord's  Christ  I  Blessed  be  God,  in  Chiist 
all  fulness  dwells,  all  fulness  of  merit 
and  righteousness,  of  grace  and  salva- 
tion ;  and  this  is  for  the  unworthy,  for 
sinners,  "  for  whoever  will ;"  therefore,  for 
my  dear  friend,  and  for  his  ever  affectionate, 
&c. 


LETTER  CLXXVI. 

Weston- Favell,  Monday  mornhtfj. 

My  dear  Friend, — I  am  much  obliged 
to  you  for  your  generous  donation  of  thirty 
shillings  to  purchase  five  hundred  of  an  Ear- 
nest Invitation  to  the  Friends  of  the  Estab- 
!is.he(l  Church,  &c.'  I  have  put  the  money 
into  the  hands  of  one  who  loves  the  Lord 
.lesus  in  sincerity,  and  who  will  take  care 
that  the  pamphlet  is  properly  dispersed  ac- 
cording to  our  desires.  It  is  an  excellent 
design.  I  daily  beg  of  God  to  bless  it  ;  for 
what  he  vouchsafes  to  bless,  will  be  blessed 
indeed. 

Enclosed  I  send  you  a  form  of  pra)er, 
founded  on  the  plan  laid  down  in  the  Ear- 
nest Invitation,  &c.  It  was  transmitted  to 
me  last  night,  by  a  very  pious  clergyman, 
who,  I  believe,  was  himself  the  author  of 
it.  You  may  gel  one  of  your  sons  to  tran- 
scribe it,  if  yon  have  not  leisure  enough 
to  do  it  yourself;  and  permit  such  seiious 
persons  to  take  copies  as  you  think  will 
make  a  ])roi)er  use  of  it. 

I  wish  you  that  promise  for  your  coun- 
sellor, which  we  read  this  morning,  at  break- 


*  An  Earnest  Invitation  to  the  Friends  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church,  to  join  with  several  of  their  brethren, 
clergy  and  laity,  in  setting  apart  one  hour  in  the  Sun- 
(lav  of  every  week  for  prayer  and  supplication,  espe- 
cially during  the  present  troublesome  times. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


895 


fast,  in  lsaia?i,  (cliapter  Iviii.  11.)  "The 
Lord  .sIihII  j<iik!e  thee  contimially."  I  am, 
my  dear  friend,  ever  yours,  while,  &c. 


[A  solemn  art  of  confession  ami  intercpssion,  suited  to 
the  plan  of  those  London  clergy,  and  other  friends 
to  theKstablished  Church,  as  specified  in  the  Ear- 
nest Invitation,  >Sic.,  reiiuestingall  the  well-disposed 
Christians  (laity  as  well  as  clergy)  throughout  this 
nation,  to  join  with  them  in  a  solemn  act  of  humi- 

•  liation  for  one  hour  every  Sunday  evening,  viz. 
from  eight  of  the  clock  till  nine,  on  account  of  their 
own  sins  and  the  sins  of  this  nation,  especially  du- 
ring these  calamitous  times,  viz. in  175/.] 

1.  O  Blessed  Loud,  let  the  words  of  my 
mouth,  and  the  meditation  of  my  heiirt,  be 
at  this  time  acceptable  in  thy  sight  as  the 
incense,  and  let  this  now  lifting  up  of  my 
hands  be  a  sweet-smelling  sacrifice  !  Lord, 
hear  my  prayer,  and  let  my  cry  come  unto 
thee. 

O  most  great  and  glorious  God  !  just 
and  terrible  in  thy  judgments  to  all  obsti- 
nate and  rebellious  sinners,  but  of  infinite 
mercy  to  such  as,  with  true  sorrow  and  hear- 
ty re])eiitance,  turn  unto  thee  ;  look  down, 
I  beseech  thee,  with  mercy  and  compassion 
upon  me,  now  presenting  myself  before 
thee,  owning  that  I  am  not  worthy  so  much 
as  to  lift  uj)  my  eyes  to  the  throne  of  thy 
glorious  Majesty.  O  Lord,  my  sins  are  so 
many  and  so  great,  that  it  is  owing  to  thy 
mercy  alone  that  I  have  not  been  long  since 
consumed,  but  yet  have  another  opportuni- 
ty of  humbling  myself  before  thee,  and  beg- 
ging mercy  for  my  own  soul,  who  have  so 
grievously  sinned  against  thee.  I  confess, 
O  Lord,  what  thou  knowest  already,  but  I 
confess  it  to  manifest  thy  justice,  and  to 
glorify  thy  mercy,  which  has  spared  me  so 
long.  I  cunfess  and  acknowledge,  O  Lord, 
that  I  brought  a  depraved  and  sinful  nature 
into  the  world  with  me,  from  whence  all 
my  actual  sins  have  flowed  and  proceeded, 
as  impure  streams  from  a  polluted  fountain. 
O  blessed  God,  I  beseech  thee,  for  thy 
dear  Son,  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  to  humble  me, 
and  that  greatly,  for  this  my  original  cor- 
ruption !  Lord,  let  me  see  it  in  the  strong- 
est light  ;  and  never  give  me  rest  and  peace 
till  from  my  soul  I  cry  out  for,  and  rely  up- 
on, the  unsinning  obedience  of  my  dear 
Redeemer,  Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  assist- 
ance of  the  Spirit  for  deliverance  from  it ; 
and  grant  that  this  precious  balm  may  be 
my  cure,  and  restore  me  again  to  the  image 
of  my  God  ! 

O  Lord,  I  have  sinned  against  thee  by 
wilful  and  actual  sins ;  I  have  left  undone 
tho.se  things  which  I  ought  to  have  done, 
and  have  done  those  thi/igs  which  1  ought 
not  to  have  done; — particularly  by  such 
and  such  u  sin- 

j.Xs  it  is  taken  for  granted,  that  everyone  who  uses 


this  prayer  has  first  of  all  strictly  examined  him- 
self, and  wrote  down  all  the  notorious  sins,  both  of 
connnission  and  omission,  which  he  could  recollect 
that  he  had  been  guilty  of  during  the  whole  course 
of  iiis  life,  it  would  here  be  proper  for  him  to  read 
over  that  catalogue  of  his  offences  very  deliberate- 
1  y ,  that  he  may  be  deeply  humbled,  and  truly  peni- 
tent] 

O  blessed  God,  I  can  give  but  a  wretched 
account  of  myself.  I  cannot  remenwer,  I 
fear,  the  ten  thousandth  part  of  my  offences. 
Lord  save,  or  I  perish  ;  my  crimes  are  in- 
tolerable and  shameful,  and  my  omissions 
as  well  as  my  commissions  are  imiumerable. 
Oh,  what  shall  I  say  unto  thee,  or  what 
shall  I  do  ?  Oh,  thou  jneserver  of  men  ! 
I  am  so  vile,  that  I  cannot  express  it;  so 
sinful,  that  I  am  hateful  to  myself,  and 
much  more  abominable  must  I  needs  be  iu 
thy  sight ! 

Oh,  I  have  sinned,  I  have  sinned  !  my 
sins  are  grown  shameful,  and  aggravated  to 
amazement !  Lord  !  I  can  say  no  more  ;  I 
am  ashamed,  I  am  confounded  in  thy  pre- 
sence ! 

But  yet,  O  God,  thou  art  the  healer  of 
our  breaches,  and  the  lifter  up  of  our  head  ; 
and  I  must  not,  I  dare  not  despair.  Thou 
hast  opened  a  fountain  for  sin  and  for  un- 
deaimess,  and  therefore  I  am  sure  thou  de- 
lightest  not  in  the  death  of  a  sinner ;  and 
though  my  sins  are  great  and  numberless, 
as  the  sand  which  is  upon  the  sea-shore, 
yet  they  are  infinitely  less  than  thy  mercie-s, 
which  thou  hast  revealed  to  all  penitent  and 
returning  sinners  in  Jesus  Christ ! 

For  his  sake,  therefore,  be  jjleased  to 
look  down  into  the  dust,  and  lift  up  a  ])oor 
helpless  sinner  from  the  dunghill  !  for 
Christ's  sake,  let  me  not  perish  in  my  folly, 
nor  be  consumed  in  thy  heavy  displetisure  ! 
for  Christ's  sake,  give  me  time  and  space 
to  repent,  and  give  me  also  power  to  do  it 
by  the  assistance  of  thy  blessed  Spirit  ! 

Support  me  with  an  holy  hope  ;  confirm 
me  with  an  operative  and  lively  faith  ;  and 
kindle  a  bright  and  burning  charity  in  my 
soul ;  give  me  patience  in  suffering,  and  se- 
verity in  judging,  and  in  condemning  my 
sins !  that  judging  myself,  1  may  not  be 
condemned  of  thee  ;  that  motu-niiig  for  my 
sins,  1  may  rejoice  in  thy  pardon  ;  that  de- 
stroying my  sins,  I  may  live  in  righteous- 
ness ;  that  denying  my  own  will,  I  muy  al- 
ways endeavour  to  perform  thine  ;  and  that, 
by  the  assistance  of  thy  blessed  Spirit,  I 
may  overcome  all  carnal  and  spirituiJ  wick- 
edness. Alay  I  walk  in  thy  light ;  maj  I 
delight  in  thy  service  ;  may  I  perfect  my 
obedience  ;  be  wholly  delivered,  as  weU 
from  the  power  of  sin,  as  punishment  of  it; 
and  so  be  for  ever  preserved  from  thy  vvratii, 
and  at  last  pass  on  from  a  certain  expecta- 
tion to  an  actual  enjoyment  of  the  glories 
of  thy  kingdom,  through  Jesus  Christ  my 
blessed  Lord  and  Saviour  !     Amen. 

2.   And  now,  Lord,  as  I  have  been  ctsn- 


896 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


fes!=ing  my  own  sins,  and  hiimhling  myself 
before  thee  as  a  pris'ate  and  piirticiiliir  per- 
son, I  think  myself  bound,  in  humility  and 
duty,  after  the  exam])le  of  thy  servant  Da- 
niel, to  look  upon  myself  in  a  still  faither 
sinful  lij;ht,  viz.  as  an  inhabitant  of  a  pro- 
fligate and  rebellious  7iation  ;  and  so,  like 
Daniel  also,  to  confess  the  sins  of  my 
people !  May  I  feel  the  concern  of  the 
Psalmist  when  he  exclaimed,  "  Rivers  of 
tears  run  down  mine  eyes,  because  men 
keep  not  thy  law,"  Psalm  cxix.  130.  And 
oh  !  that  my  supplications,  and  the  suppli- 
cations of  all  those  who  at  this  appointed 
hour  have  agreed  solemnly  to  seek  thy  face, 
and  to  confess  their  own  sins,  and  the  sins 
of  the  people  of  this  land  ;  O  that  they  may 
meet  with  the  same  gracious  acceptance 
with  thee  as  Daniel  did  !  O  that  the  com- 
mandment may  come  forth  at  the  beginning 
of  our  supplication,  "  to  make  an  end  of 
our  sins,  and  to  make  reconciliation  for  our 
iniquities,  that  thou  inayest  once  more  be 
our  God,  and  we  thy  people  !" 

Let  thy  merciful  ears,  O  God,  therefore 
be  open  unto  our  prayers,  and  spare  all 
those  who  confess  their  sins  unto  thee  ! 
that  they  whose  consciences  by  sin  are  ac- 
cused, by  thy  merciful  pardon  may  be  ab- 
solved, through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ! 

"  O  Lord,  the  great  and  faithful  God, 
keeping  covenant  and  mercy  with  them  that 
love  him  and  keep  his  commandments  !" 
(Deut.  vii.  9.)  we  have  sinned,  ()  Lord,  we 
have  committed  iniquity,  and  have  done 
wickedly,  and  have  rebelled,  by  departing 
from  thy  precepts  and  from  thy  judgments  ; 
neither  have  we  hearkened  unto  thy  servants 
the  prophets,  nor  to  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ, 
nor  to  his  apostles,  who  in  thy  holy  word 
have  spoken  unto  our  fathers  and  the  people 
of  the  land. 

O  Lord,  righteousness  belongeth  unto 
thee,  but  unto  us  confusion  of  face  as  at 
this  day,  lo  our  kings,  to  our  princes,  to  our 
fathers,  and  to  ourselves,  because  of  the 
trespasses  which  we  have  trespassed  against 
thee ;  yea,  we  have  all  as  one  man  trans, 
guessed  against  thee,  by  departing  from  thee, 
and  not  obeying  thy  voice  ;  therefore  the 
curse  is  poured  out  upon  us,  and  thou  hast 
confirmed  the  word  which  thou  hast  spoken 
against  us  !  Thou  hast  brought  upon  us 
many  and  sore  evils,  yet  made  we  not  our 
prayer  before  thee,  that  we  might  turn  from 
our  iniquity  and  understand  thy  truth. 

But,  O  blessed  Lord,  to  thee  belong 
mercies  and  forgiveness,  though  we  have 
rebelled  against  thee.  O  Lord,  we  confess 
our  wickedness  and  are  sorry  for  our  sins  ; 
we  beseech  thee,  the.vfore,  according  to  all 
thy  righteousness  and  all  thy  gracious  pro- 
mises, and  for  the  sake  of  thy  dear  Son  Je- 
sus Christ,  let  thine  anger  and  t\ry  fury  be 
turned  away  from  us  !      Bow  down   thine 


ear,  ( )  Lord,  and  hear ;  open  thine  eyes,  O 
Lord,  and  see,  and  behold  our  miseries  and 
our  desolation  !  for  we  do  not  present  our 
supplications  before  thee  trusting  in  our 
own  righteousness,  but  in  thy  manifold  and 
great  mercies,  and  of  the  truth  which  thou 
hast  shewed  of  old  time  to  us  thy  servants  : 
But  thou  art  the  same,  whose  property  19 
always  to  have  mercy ;  have  mercy  up- 
on us,  therefore,  have  mercy  upon  us, 
most  merciful  Father,  lor  thy  dear  Son  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ's  sake ;  forgive  us  all 
that  is  past,  and  grant  that  we  may  ever 
hereafter  serve  thee  in  newness  of  life,  to 
the  honour  and  glory  of  thy  name  !  And 
let  the  consideration  of  our  sinfulness  and 
unworthiness,  and  of  thy  manifold  warnings 
to  us,  and  long-sufferings  towards  us,  in- 
crease in  us  true  I'epentaiice,  that  iniquity 
may  not  be  our  destruction  !  and  increase  in 
us  also  more  and  more  a  lively  faith  and 
love,  fruitful  in  all  holy  obedience,  that  thou 
mayest  still  continue  thy  favour,  together 
with  the  light  of  thy  gospel,  to  us  and  our 
posterity  !  and  this  we  beg  for  thy  dear  Son 
Jesus  (Christ's  sake,  our  only  Mediator  and 
Advocate. 

3.  And  now  I  have  here  confessed  to 
thee  my  own  sins,  and  the  sins  of  the  people, 
I  desire  farther  to  offer  up  my  prayers  in 
behalf  of  all  mankind,  that  both  Jew  and 
Gentile  may  believe  in,  and  glorify  thee, 
the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom 
thou  hast  sent !  Protect  and  prosper  thy 
holy  catholic  church  ;  preserve  it  pure  in 
doctrine  and  worship  ;  root  out  of  it  what- 
ever is  a  scandal  to  thy  most  holy  religion  ; 
unite  its  professors  and  enlarge  its  borders; 
es])ecially  bless  that  part  of  it  in  these  na- 
tions to  which  I  belong ;  and  as,  in  thine 
infinite  mercy,  thou  hast  been  pleased  to 
vouchsafe  us  abundant  illumination  of  thy 
gospel,  be  pleased  to  grant  that  by  our  sins 
we  may  not  extinguish  the  light  of  it. 

Inflame  the  ministers  and  stewards  of  tliy 
mysteries  with  a  lively  and  burning  zeal  for 
the  conversion  of  souls.  Impress  it  deeply 
upon  them,  that  cursed  is  he  that  doth  the 
work  of  the  Lord  deceitfully  ;  and  be  pleas- 
ed, O  Lord,  to  assist  them  with  thy  blessed 
Spirit,  and  to  direct  them  to  the  use  of 
such  means  as  may  be  effectual  to  bring 
about,  and  accomplish  that  desirable  and 
happy  end. 

Be  pleased  likewise  to  bless  all  those  our 
dissenting  brethren,  of  what  denomination 
soever  they  be,  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  in  sincerity  !  Reconcile  our  hearts 
to  them,  and  theirs  to  us  !  grant  that  there 
may  be  an  end  of  those  animosities,  and 
bitter  disputes,  which  have  so  long  and  so 
sadly  disturbed  ilie  peace,  and  hindered  the 
union  of  Protestants  !  and  grant  also,  that 
there  may  be  only  this  one  holy  contention 
between  us,   whether  the  ministers  out  o( 


A   C(3LLE(TI0N   OF  LETTERS. 


897 


t1;e  csthl)lis:hoil  rhiirdi,  or  they  that  (ire  in 
it.  shali  h'.bdur  most  for  the  glory  of  our 
<()mmoii  ?.iastcr,  iiud  lor  the  sid\anoTi  of 
those  souls  cojiimittcd  to  their  care,  and 
for  whoMi  he  shed  his  blood. 

Bless,  likewise,  our  sovereign  lord  King: 
(^ieorge,  and  h11  his  royal  family !  nii'.ke 
them  )inrc  and  lioly  in  their  lives  '  raise  up 
hn  active  and  vigorous  sjiirit  in  th.eir  hearts, 
for  the  [xiiiishment  and  looting  out  of  wick- 
edness and  \iee,  and  lor  the encouragenieiU 
und  maintenance  of  true  leligion  itmong  lis. 

And  l;e  jdeased,  O  Lord,  to  give  the 
vpiiit  cf  Wisdom  lo  all  his  counsellors,  and 
to  the  m.igistrates  of  all  ranks  through  the 
iiiition.  that  they  may  be  enabled  faithfe.lly 
to  di<>ehrtige  that  great  trust  which  is  re- 
))0Si;d  in  them,  to  thy  honour,  and  to  the 
Ijenelit  iind  advantage  ot  his  miijesty  and 
tl  c  nation  i 

Bo  pleased  likewise  to  go  forth  with  our 
fioets  and  armies  !  bless  all  their  endeavours 
ugainst  our  enemies,  and  give  theiii  success 
in  the  day  of  battle. 

i^ave  mercy  upon  all  the  afliicted  mem- 
bers of  thy  elinrcli,  v.hether  in  mind,  body, 
«)!  e.-tate  !  i'ity  their  condition,  O  J.ord  ! 
j)ity  it,  and  lay  no  more  nj)oii  them  than 
They  are  able  to  bear,  but  give  thoiu  deliv- 
erance in  ihy  good  appointed  time,  if  it  be 
thy  blessed  will !  iriave  compassion  upon 
nil  that  are  in  error,  but  sincerely  seek  the 
truth  ;  on  all  that  are  engaged  in  sinftd 
courses,  r.nd  led  cai)tive  by  their  lusts,  that 
they  may  have  grace  and  strength  to  breajc 
their  bonds  ;  and  on  all  those  who  never 
j)ray  for  ihemseives!  Open  their  eyes,  O 
J^ord,  and  melt  their  stony  hearts  ;  awaken 
them,  though  it  be  even  vvith  thunder,  to  a 
sensible  feeling  of  their  sad  condition  ;  and, 
i'or  thy  mercy's  sake,  suffer  them  no  longer 
to  sit  in  darkness,  and  in  the  shadow  of 
death  ;  may  they  see  bci'ure  it  be  too  late 
the  danger  and  madness  of  thus  living  with- 
out (iod  in  the  world. 

4.  I'iiiaily,  O  Lord,  I  desire  to  return 
thee  iriy  unfeigned  praises  and  thanksgivings 
for  the  manitbld  expressions  of  thy  goodness 
and  loving-kindness  to  me  and  to  all  man- 
kind !  I  bless  thee  for  my  creation,  preser- 
vation, and  all  the  blessings  of  this  life,  and 
for  all  the  helps  and  advantages  which  tliou 
hast  vouchsafed  me  for  the  obtaining  a  bet- 
ter ;  but  above  all,  lor  thy  astonishing  love 
to  mankind  in  Jesus  Christ,  for  all  that  he 
hath  done  and  sulfered  for  us,  and  continues 
still  to  do  for  ns  by  his  jjowerful  interces- 
sion at  thy  right  hand  !  humbly  beseeching 
thee,  that  i  thy  servant,  together  with  all 
those  who  ha\e  lived  and  died  in  the  faith 
of  his  holy  name,  may  tollow  the  exam])ie 
of  his  heavenly  life,  that  finally  with  them 
I  m;iy  be  made  a  partaker  of  the  merits  oi 
bis  obedience  and  death,  in  h  joyful  resur- 
rection to  cverhisting  lift ! 


All  these  confessions,  prayers,  supplica- 
t^ions,  intercessions,  iuid  thanksgivings^  I 
humbly  ])ut  nj)  to  the  throne  of  gr.ice,  in 
the  name  and  words  of  our  Loid  and  Savi- 
our .fesuH  Christ,  wl',o,  in  compassion  to 
our  infirmities,  hath  taught  us  thus  to  pray: 
"  Our  Father,"  kc. 

'ihe  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
&c. 

N.  B — The  above  prayer  may  be  en- 
larged and  im;>rovcd  as  time  and  occasion 
shall  offer;  and  it  may  not  be  improper  lO 
remind  every  Christian,  that  the  first  time 
he  makes  use  of  it,  he  ought  to  set  apart 
at  least  half  an  hour  for  self-examination, 
and  writing  down  the  sins  of  which  he 
finds  himself  guilty.  The  following  Sun- 
days he  will  reconsider  \\hat  he  hr.s  written, 
and  tliereby  form  a  judgment  what  is  his 
progress  in,  or  deviation  from,  the  path 
which  leads  to  heaven.  After  having  sjient 
some  Sunday  evenings  in  this  devout  exer- 
cise, he  should  be  upon  bis  guard  lest  he 
be  tempted  to  leave  it  off.  O  may  he  never 
be  tired  of  such  a  good  work  !  the  more  he 
prays,  the  more  he  will  have  strength  to 
persevere.  It  is  humbly  hoped,  that  all 
who  read  this  will  immediately  ])urchase  the 
Earnest  Invitation,  &c.  the  price  of  which, 
as  has  been  before  observed,  is  no  more 
than  a  penny  j  and  then,  after  having 
weighed  it  v/ith  the  attention  which  a  mat- 
ter of  this  iniportanee  deserves,  they  will, 
to  use  tiie  i.uthor's  own  words,  "judge 
whether  it  be  not  a  seasonable  and  a  safe 
measure  which  we  would  jiers;- ide  you  to 
take ;  and  }oii  will  take  it,  if  you  are  in- 
deed a  tnend  to  our  present  hapjiy  establish- 
ment iji  church  anrt  state.  Your  love  for 
tlieiii  will  put  you  uj>oii  the  doing  every 
thing  that  lies  in  your  jiower  to  seiTe  them  ; 
and  here  you  have  a  fair  opportunitv,  of 
which,  if  you  make  use,  it  cannot  but  do 
you  service,  and  may  be  a  blessing  to  them, 
l^ray  for  them  at  the  appointed  hour,  (name- 
ly from  eight  to  nine  every  fcunday  evening.) 
Determine,  through  God's  assistance,  that 
nothing  shall  hinder  you  liom  joining  ns. 
Break  through  all  engagements,  all  hinder- 
ances,  to  mei-c  at  the  throne  of  grace  the 
Lord's  people.  [Consider  that  Godknow- 
eth  his  secret  ones,  and  will  reward  them 
ojienly.]  And  moreover,  for  your  encour- 
agement, remember,  that  he  who  sitteth 
ui)on  the  throne  is  the  Gou  who  HtAKKTU 
riiAYKii,  and  who  has  inWted  you  (i'sal.  ]. 
15.)  to  call  upon  him  in  the  day  of  trouble; 
so  will  I  hear  thee,  says  he,  and  thou  sl.alc 
praise  me.'  What  a  comfortable  ])romistj 
is  here  to  animate  every  one  to  make  part 
of  this  piaviiig  congregation  ! 


a  M 


898 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


.ETTER  CLXXVIL 


My  dear  Friend, — I  truly  sympathize 
with  you  in  all  your  calamities  ;  but  to  be 
afflicted  more  or  less,  is  the  common  lot  of 
God's  people  ;  and  it  is  frequently  their 
fate  to  be  exercised  with  frowning  provi- 
dences in  a  remarkably  grievous  manner. 
Under  such  circumstances  we  should  sug- 
gest soft  hints  of  admonition,  with  the  same 
friendly  intention  as  actuated  the  prophet 
Jeremiah,  when  he  addressed  this  exhorta- 
tion to  his  countrymen,  "  Let  us  search  and 
tiy  our  ways,  and,"  if  we  are  found  delin- 
quents, "turn  again  unto  the  Lord,"  Lam. 
iii.  4.  We  should  likewise  comfort  each 
other  by  observing,  that  God,  who  heareth 
prayer,  has  bowels  of  everlasting  compas- 
sion, and  does  not  willingly  afflict  the  sons 
of  men  ;  that  this  adorable  God  has  given 
his  all-glorious  Son  to  be  a  bleeding  sacri- 
fice for  our  sins  ;  and  that  if  he  withheld 
not  his  Son,  his  onhj  Son,  but  delivered  him 
up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  also  with  him 
freely  give  us  all  things  ?  all  things  that 
pertain  to  life  and  godliness  ;  to  subsistence 
here,  and  salvation  for  ever.  Prompted  by 
the  infinite  benignity  of  his  nature,  and  en- 
gaged by  his  inviolable  promise,  he  never 
fixileth  tlaose  that  seek  him.  O  how  ready 
is  he  to  give  his  Holy  Spirit !  to  give  all 
happiness  to  those  that  with  an  humble 
sincerity  will  apply  to  him  !  infinitely  more 
ready  than  we  are  to  give  our  children  a 
morsel  of  bread  to  save  them  from  perishing 
with  hunger.  These  are  indeed  comforta- 
ble considerations,  and  are  the  strongest 
reasons  why  we  should  continually  be  mak- 
ing our  requests  knowni  unto  him. 

I  fear  Mr.  Sm — h  is  a  very  bad  man, 
and  too  justly  deserves  the  name  you  give 
him.  Labourers,  I  am  told,  are  distressed 
by  his  neglecting  to  pay  them  ;  which  I 
can  assure  you  very  much  grieves  me,  nor 
is  it  in  my  power  to  redress  them.  I  wish 
it  was  ;  they  should  soon  see  what  it  is  to 
have  to  do  with  one  "who  nameth  the  name 
of  Christ,"  2  Tim.  ii.  19. 

Please  to  lend  me  Dr.  Squire's  Indiffer- 
ence for  Religion  Inexcusable.  I  mightily 
like  the  title  of  it.  He  bears  so  good  a 
character,  both  as  a  scholar  and  a  man,  that 
I  hope  it  will  be  an  antidote  against  the 
fashionable  and  growing  indifference  to  re- 
ligion. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  shilling  poem,  en- 
titled the  Battle  of  the  Sexes?  It  is  wrote 
in  the  spirit  of  Spenser,  and  is  indeed  one 
of  the  prettiest  things  I  ever  met  with. 
But  it  is  very  evident  that  the  author  has 
taken  his  plan  from  Fletcher's  Purple 
Island.*      The    celebrated    Pitt   of   New 


College,  who  translated  Virgil  and  Vida, 
has  wrote  a  complimentary  copy  of  verses, 
which  are  prefixed  :  a  specimen  of  which 
I  have  here  selected  to  show  you  the  na- 
ture of  it. 

What  muse  but  yours  so  justly  could  display 
The  embattled  passions  marshall'd  in  array  ? 
Bid  the  ranged  appetites  in  order  move. 
Give  lust  a  figure,  and  a  shape  to  loue  ? 
To  airy  notions  solid  forms  dispense  ! 
And  make  our  tJiou^hts  the  images  of  sense .' 
Discover  all  this  rational  machine. 
And    show    the   movements,    springs,  and    wheels 
within? 

As  I  was  looking  yesterday  at  rny  pre- 
face to  the  new  edition  oi'  Jenks's  iledita- 
tions,  I  observed,  in  the  catalogue  of  his 
works,  that,  either  through  my  own  or  the 
printer's  negligence,  two  little  pieces  are 
omitted :  one  of  them  is  his  Serious 
Thoughts  on  the  Wonderful  God  ;  which 
is  very  useful  in  assisting  us  to  form  pro- 
per notions  of  the  divine  perfections  ;  the 
other  is  his  Glorious  Victory  of  Chastity, 
exemplified  in  Joseph's  hard  conflict,  and 
happy  escape.  It  is  a  pity  that  this  little 
piece  is  not  more  regarded  by  parents,  as  it 
is  perhaps  the  best  thing  of  its  size  ever 
wrote  on  the  subject,  and  ought  to  be  put 
into  the  hands  of  all  young  people  ;  for  as 
St.  Augustine  justly  observes,  "  Inter  om- 
nia certamina  Christianorum  duriora  sunt 
praelia  castitatis  ;  nam  ibi  continua  pugna, 
et  rara  victoria."* 

If  another  edition  of  Jenks's  Medita- 
tions shotdd  be  demanded,  and  if  it  should 
please  God  to  take  me  to  himself  before 
that  time,  I  here  desire  the  favour  of  you 
to  see  that  these  two  little  tracts  be  insert- 
ed in  the  catalogue  of  Mr.  Jenks's  writ- 
ings, given  in  the  preface  to  that  book  by 
your  ever  affectionate,  &c. 


See  Letter  CCVI. 


LETTER  CLXXVin. 

Weston-Favell,  April  28,  1757. 
What  has  my  dear  friend  been  speaking 
for  the  honour  of  hiji,  who  saved  his  life 
from  destruction  ?  How  are  you  ?  how  is 
your  lady,  after  your  great  l'right,-|-  and 
greater  deliverance  ?     Calm  now,  I  trust, 


*  The  meaning  of  which  is  i  "  Amidst  all  the  va- 
rious and  sharp  encounters  in  the  Christian  warfare, 
the  attacks  on  our  chastity  are  perhaps  the  most 
formidable,  as  the  combat  is  strenuous  and  lasting  : 
a  complete  victory  being  rarely  obtained." 

t  Tlie  gentleman  was  driving  his  wife  m  a  one- 
horse  chaise,  when  the  horse  suddenly  took  fright, 
and  Hung  his  hmder  leg  over  one  of  the  shafts,  just 
by  the  side  of  a  very  deep  ditch  :  being  thus  en- 
tangled, an(l  a  high-mettled  horse,  he  kicked  with 
all  imaginable  fury,  and  several  times  his  hoofs 
came  within  a  hair's  breadth  of  their  heads.  They 
called  in  vain  on  their  servant,  who  had  loitered 
Ijehind;  and  they  must  both  have  inevitably  been 
dashed  to  pieces,  had  not  the  horse,  by  the  violence 
of  his  kicking,  broke  the  harness,  bar,  and  shafts, 
and  thus  fortunately  disentangled  himself. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS 


809 


an;]  no  emotions  in  yonr  mind  l)ut  of  grati- 
Tnr'e  to  the  preat  Preserver  of  men,  who 
kept  all  your  bones,  so  that  not  one  of  them 
is  broken. 

Now,  I  hope  you  will  be  steadily  and 
uniformly  serious.  You  see,  God  wanis 
you,  yet  spares  you.  To  others  he  has 
apjiointed  such  dangers  as  befell  you  yes- 
terd;;\',  to  be  the  messenger  of  death  ;  to 
you  lie  has  designed  them  only  as  an  admo- 
nition of  love ;  hear  then  your  Prkseii- 
vi'.iis  voice.  Trifle  no  longer  with  Christ 
and  his  salvation  ;  be  zealous,  I  mean  dis- 
creetly zealous,  for  your  Saviour,  and  for 
that  gospel,  which  you  understand  better 
than  most  of  our  clergymen.  How  can 
you  refuse  to  speak  boldly  for  such  a  blas- 
ter, and  to  devote  yourself  to  his  service 
in  earnest,  who  forgives  all  your  backslid- 
iiigs,  watches  over  you  with  such  tender 
compassion,  and  waits,  yea,  waits  to  be 
gracious  unto  you  ! 

My  dear  friend,  may  the  Lord  Jesus 
turn  us  both  to  himself,  who  is  our  refuge, 
our  salvation,  and  all  our  hope ;  who 
should  be  our  boast,  our  triumph,  and  all 
our  joy. 

1  long  to  see  your  amiable  friend  the 
Ueverend  Mr.  Dyer's  poem  on  the  Fleece. 
I  suppose  he  will  make  you  a  present  of 
it.  When  you  have  done  with  it,  please 
to  send  it  me.  I  hear  it  is  to  be  sold  at 
five  shillings,  which  I  cannot  afford  to  give 
for  it. 

In  your  last  letter  you  asked  me  for  two 
guineas  out  of  my  charity  purse,  for  our  very 
<!eserving  and  verv  distressed  friend.  Indeed 
it  is  quite  exhansteb  ;  nay  I  do  not  think  I 
have  a  single  guinea  in  the  world,  even  for  my 
<j\yu  use;  though  1  forbear  every  uiineees- 
siiry  expense,  and  want  many  of  the  little 
conveniences  of  life,  that  I  may  be  enabled 
to  succoui'  the  v.orthy  servants  of  Chiist. 
I  have  agreed  to  go  bdves  with  Riviiigtoii 
in  the  profits  of  my  book  :  and  1  always 
make  it  a  maxim,  not  to  give  till  I  have 
gotten.  JBe  just  before  you  are  generous, 
is  your  own  nde  too.  If  the  Lord  pleases 
to  prosper  my  work,  I  will  very  readily 
communicate  to  the  comfort  of  such  worthy 
objects  as  you  may  thinlc  [jroper  to  recom- 
mend to  the  charity  of,  my  dear  friend, 
yours  very  affectionately. 


LETTER  CLXXIX. 

Dear    Sir, — 'Sir.  ?.Ioses   Ilrowne*  has, 
I  think,  thirteen  children.      One  is  settled 


*  The  Hov,  Mr.  Moses  Ilrownc,  (the  author  of 
Sunday  Tlioiiphls,  nril  \arioiis  other  picas,)  is  ii'^w 
virar  of  Olnty  iii  IUiil.iiiLl.ani.shirc,  (he  rptcnue  of 
whii  h  is  :;1  ( I't  fifiy  iiouinis,  being  his  en  y  income, 
and  henliovi  liftv  Nc.rsold. 


in  the  world  ;  and  a  friend  of  his  has  taken 
another  for  his  clerk,  gratis.  A\'e  propose 
to  put  out  one  of  his  daughters  to  some 
decent  business,  by  which  she  may  have 
the  means  of  getting  her  livelihood.  He 
has  been  at  a  great  expense,  poor  man  !  by 
the  sickness  of  his  family.  Your  contri- 
bution on  this  occasion  will  be  acceptable. 
Dr.  has  offered  to  augment  the  col- 
lection ;    and   Mr.   ,  I  am    sure,    will 

readily  af'd  his  charitable  assistance,  espe- 
cially if  you  recommend  the  case. 

We  are  in  daily  expectation  of  our  friend 

H .      I  wish  you  could  make  up  the 

triumvirate  of  the  guests.  At  all  our  social 
interviews,  our  news  is  fetched  from  the 
Bible  ;  Christ  is  the  monarch,  and  heaven 
the  country,  on  which  we  discourse.  O 
that  I  may  be  enabled  to  improve  these  pre- 
cious opportunities  !  not  be  like  Pharaoh's 
lean  kine,  destitute  of  growth,  though  cram- 
med with  plenty !  JVIy  flock  would  have 
been  peculiarly  delighted  to  have  heard 
your  voice  in  the  pulpit ;  they  would  have 
hung  on  your  lips  ;  and,  I  verily  believe, 
the  words  would  not  have  been  in  vain  in 
the  Lord.  There  is  no  expedient  so  effec- 
tual to  warm  our  hearts,  as  an  xuu'emitted 
endeavour  to  awaken  the  love  of  a  bleed- 
ing Saviour  in  the  breast  of  others. 

I  am  truly  grieved  at  the  account  of 
yourself.  You  know  who  has  said,  "  I 
will  heal  their  backslidings,  and  love  them 
freely  ;"  and  dare  we,  by  giving  way  to  un- 
belief, make  the  God  of  truth  a  liar  ? 
Hear  the  words  of  the  Lord,  spoken  by 
Jeremiah,  chap.  iii.  1"2.  "  Retuiu,  thou 
backsliding  Israel,  and  I  will  not  cause 
mine  anger  to  fall  ujjou  you ;  only  ac- 
knowledge thine  iniquities  which  thou 
hast  transgressed  against  the  Lord  thy 
God." 

Recommend  Jenks's  "\'ictory  of  Chasti- 
ty to  IMr.  ,  and  tell  him,  that  though 

the  lusts  of  the  flesh  are  inveterate  ene- 
mies, yet  three  methods  may  be  prescribed 
for  a  victoiy  over  them.  1.  A  believing 
a])])lication  of  the  Redeemer's  death.  The 
sin'iits  in  glory,  once  men  of  like  jiassions 
w  ith  ourselves,  overcame  through  the  blood 
of  the  Lamb.  He  "  bare  our  sins  in  his 
own  body  on  the  tree,  that  we,  being  dead 
unto  sin,  might  live  unto  righteousness." 
2.  An  habitual  reliance  on  the  Spirit  of 
(jod.  "  If  ye,  through  the  Spirit,  do  mor. 
tify  the  deeds  of  the  body,  ye  shall  live." 
Christ  by  his  Sj)irit  acts  on  our  depraved, 
])olluted  hearts,  as  a  refiiier's  fire,  and  as 
fuller's  soap.  .3.  An  imiu-ovement  of  the 
divine  promises.  God  "  lias  given  unto 
us  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises  ; 
that  by  the.si'  we  might  be  partakers  of  a 
divine  nature,  having  escaped  the  corrup- 
tion that  is  in  the  world  throu;;h  lust." 

'i'hese,    tell   I\Ir.  to   lay  uj)  in  his 


900 

memory  ;  on  these  let  him  meditate ;  and 
plead  them  before  our  heavenly  Father  in 
frequent,  frequent  prayer.  And  let  him 
be  of  good  comfort,  the  blessing  of  Gad 
will  be  his  portion.  "  Gad,  a  troop  shall 
ovev>'-orae  him,  but  he  shall  overcome  at 
the  last."     See  Gen.  xlix.  19. 

Our  dear  friend  presents  his  love  ;  and 
wishes  you  may  be  very  zealous  for  the 
Lord  God  of  hosts.  You  have  constantly 
an  interest  in  my  best  prayers,  but  I  am 
utterly  unworthy  to  approach  the  immacu- 
late purity  and  infinite  holiness  of  the 
great  God ;  yet  blessed  be  his  adorable 
name  for  Jesus  Christ.  Oh  let  us  fly  to 
Christ !  "  Turn  ye  to  this  strong-hold,  ye 
priscr.ers  of  hope."  Let  us  cast  our  every 
burden  upon  the  Lord  Redeemer;  have 
access  into  the  holiest  through  his  precious 
blood ;  and  trust  in  his  ever-acceptable  in- 
tercession ;  for  he  intercedes,  delightful 
truth  !  he  intercedes  for  transgressors.  I 
am,  dear  sir,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXXX. 

Dear  Sir, — Mr.  Hayward  and  Mr. 
Pike's  Cases  of  Conscience  are  printed  in 
two  volumes,  the  lirst  of  wliich  I  here 
send  you.  I  return  you  Smollet's  History 
of  England,  and  "West's  Pindar,  with  thanks. 
How  empty  all  these  polite  pieces  appear, 
compared  with  the  sacred  page  !  May  this 
delight  our  taste,  for  this  alone  can  comfort 
our  heart.      "What  I  proposed  to  write  re- 


A   COLLECTION    OF  LETTERS. 

Why  does  our  friend  talk  of  not  accept- 
ing   ,  because  it  is  a  p'aitry  living? 

Surely  ];e  would  not  reckon  that  a  paltry 
thing,  which  gave  him  an  opportunity  of 
preaching  Christ,  and  winning  souls.  If 
he  did,  he  would  not  be  able  to  say,  with  a 
certain  minister  now  in  glory,  "  I  seek  not 
yours,  but  you."  i  he  blessed  hope  of  that 
glory  is  enough,  is  enough  :  Lord,  strength- 
en it,  brighten  it,  increase  it,  ever  more  and 
more.  O  that  ministers  may  work  for  their 
dying  Lord,  while  they  have  health  ;  re- 
membering, that  sickness  may  confine  them 
to  their  chamber,  and  death  will  imprison 
them  in  the  grave.  God  Almighty  give 
us  courage,  that  we  may  fight  the  good  light 
of  faith ;  and  prudence,  that  we  may  not 
dishonour  our  high  calling.  Ere  long,  eter- 
nity receives  us,  and  then  we  rest  from  our 
labours ;  then  we  forget  cur  transient  toil, 
amidst  innumerable  ages  of  perfection,  and 
glory,  and  joy.  For  all  this,  not  unto  us, 
O  Lord  Jesus,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  thy 
love,  thy  righteousness,  thy  intercession,  be 
the  praise  ! 

V/hat  say  you  to  my  late  well-meant  ad- 
monition ?  "Fou  are  not  offended,  I  hope. 
We  must  be  faithful  to  each  other,  or  else 
how  can  we  expect  to  meet  v/ith  comfort 
at  the  great  triljunal ;  to  meet  with  trans- 
port amidst  the  angels  of  light? 

I  have  not  heard  from  Biddeford  ;  as 
soon  as  I  receive  information,  it  shall  be 
communicated  to  you.  And  may  the  Lord 
fulfil  that  promise  to  us  both  ;  "  I  will  in- 
form thee,  and  teach  thee,  in  the  way  where- 
in thou  shalt  go." 

Pray  have   you  got    Dr.    Armstrong's 


lating  to  the   subject  of   Visiting  on   Sun- 
days, (see  p.  70o)  was    executed    the  be-!  poem  on  Health?    It  is  highly  extolled  by 


^inning  of  last  week  ;  yet,  to  say  the  truth, 
I  am  in  some  measure  backward  to  propa- 
gate and  enforce  it ;  because,  till  people 
begin  to  taste  something  of  the  love  of  God, 
and  find  delight  in  Christ  Jesus,  such  truths, 
I  doubt,  v.dli  only  startle,  and  make  tiiem 
dread  religion  as  burdensome. 

Thanks  for  the  venison.  We  cannot 
dress  it  to-day.  All  my  family  are  to  be 
at  court  this  morning.  The  King  of  heaven 
has  sent  positive  orders,  and  will  not  excuse 
either  man-^servant  or  nifiid-servant.  Will 
you  not  give  us  your  company  in  the  after- 
noon ?  When  Mv.  performs  the  whole 

service  at  my  church,  I  fancy  you  will  not 
be  disappointed  nor  unediiied ;  he  seems  to 
I  ,ive  a  ready  utterance,  a  very  good  voice, 
and  a  fervent  zeal  for  the  honour  of  Christ : 
may  the  arrow  of  the  gospel  go  forth  from 


Mr.  Wharton,  the  translator  of  ^^irgil,  as 
a  most  correct,  and  (which  with  him  seems 
to  comprehend  all  excellency)  a  classical 
performance.  I  should  like  to  peep  upon 
it  by  way  of  amusement ;  for  as  to  tlie  bless- 
ing it  celebrates,  I  expect  it  not,  till  this 
vile  body  is  made  like  unto  Christ's  glori- 
ous body.  Blessed  be  God  for  this  delight- 
ful hope  :  may  it  eveiy  day  be  brighter  in 
you,  and  brighter  in  yoiu"  most  affection- 
ate, &c. 


LETTER  CLXXXL 


]My  dear   Friend, — Sincerest  thanks 

for  your    benevolent    offices ;    may    they, 

tlirough  our  great  High  Priest,  and  in  the 

his  lips  as  the  lightning!   I  hope  you  willjiricense   of  his  atonement,  go  up  as  a  me- 


bring  your  wife  with  you ;  such  lively  |  morial  before  God  ;  not  as  a  demand,  (we 
preaching  as  I  expect,  may  be  a  blessing  to  :  may  observe),  not  as  a  bill  drawn  upon 
both  of  you.  O  that  Christ  may  guide  us  'heaven,  but  only  as  a  memorial, 
with  his  counsel,  and  warm  us  with  his  |  I  had  a  veiy  restless  night,  tore  almost  to 
love;  make  us  useiul  in  cur  generation,  pieces  by  my  cough.  Strange!  that  these 
and  meet  for  his  heavenly  kingdom  !  jtiimsy  vessels  can  beiir  such  violent  stnun- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


$01 


ing !  that  none  of  them  will  burst,  and  let 
the  battered  soul  slip  away  to  her  eternal 
rest  in  (Jhrist ! 

Here  are  two  sets  of  the  ?.Ie:litations, 
with  which  you  may  gratify  some  of  your 
acquaintance.  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
graiit  that  they  may  promote  his  glory.  Do 
not  you  often  wish,  often  pray,  that  the 
same  blessed  effect  may  be  produced  by  your 
book  ?  A^'e  autliors  sliould  not  be  like  the 
ostriches  in  the  wilderness,  cruel  and  for- 
getful of  their  young,  Lam.  iv.  3. 

If  you  have  Dr.  Grey's  tran.slation  of 
Hawkins  Browne's  Latin  poem  on  the  Im- 
mortality of  the  Soul,  favour  me  with  the 
sight  of  it ;  it  is  a  grand  sul)ject ;  it  is  a  glo- 
rious subject ;  and,  when  considered  in  con- 
nexion with  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  a  delightful 
subject.  Oh  !  that  it  may  incite  us  to  aim, 
not  at  the  things  which. are  seen,  for  they  are 
temporal ;  but  at  the  things  which  are  not 
seeu,  for  they  are  eternal. 

I  have  found  the  little  treatise,  entitled. 
Recovery  from  Sickness.  It  is  one  of  the 
jnost  pertinent  and  rational,  the  most  ani- 
mating and  encouraging,  that  I  have  seen 
on  the  occasioji.  Few  properer  pieces,  I 
think,  can  be  put  into  a  sick  person's  hand. 
May  the  Lord  God,  omnipotent  and  gra- 
cious, accompany  it  with  his  blessing  ! 

I  am  always  complaining;  complaining 
of  my  poor  body  ;  but,  I  trust,  more  and 
more  resigned  to  the  unerring  and  gracious 
will  of  my  Lord. 

I  beg,  I  entreat  you,  if  you  value  the  ho- 
nour of  the  gospel,  that  you  will  dissuade 
those  polite  persons  you  mention,  from 
coming  to  hear  me  to-morrow.  My  spirits 
sink  more  and  more.  I  am  visited  with 
some  returns  of  my  hacking  cough,  perhaps 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  speak  at  all.  Such 
disagreeable  circumstances  will  only  expose 
me,  and  create  in  them  very  unpleasing  ideas 
of  what  I  shall  deliver.  My  imagination  is 
gone.  I  am  sensible  my  sermons  are  flat, 
and  my  voice  spiritless.  Why  therefore 
should  you  bring  persons  of  taste  to  see 
the  nakedness  of  the  land?  The  poor  coun- 
try people  love  me  tenderly,  and  therefore 
bear  with  my  infirmities ;  else  I  should  no 
longer  attempt  to  preach  even  before  them. 
I  am  now  unlit  to  appear  in  the  ])ulj)it. 

I  hope  Dr.  Swan's  journey  \v'!l  be  ble.<s- 
ed  to  the  restoration  and  establishment  of 
his  health.  I  wish  I  may  never  I'orget  ttie 
text  on  which  he  heard  the  minister  of  Wes- 
ton preach  ;  I  wish  we  may  all  enjoy  the 
blessing  comjjrised  and  i)romis('d  in  it :  "I 
will  pray  the  Father,  and  he  shall  give  you 
another  Comforter,  that  he  may  abide  with 
you  for  ever."  Do  not  you,  my  de.ir  triend, 
think  of  such  things  ?  talk  of  such  things 
to  your  lady,  and  nistruct  your  children  in 
sjich  things  ?  O !  let  us  remember  the 
Judge  is  at  the  door,  and  eternity  is  near. 


I  heartily  wish  Mrs.  a  speedy  reco- 
very, and  a  sanctified  improvement  of  her 
affliction.  See,  my  dear  frieiid,  how  all 
jiesh  is  grass  ;  but  Jesus  and  his  great  sal- 
vation endureth  for  ever ;  here  is  indeed  an 
everlasting  possession.  The  text  particu- 
larly tit  for  me  and  for  you  to  nieditite  on, 
(viz.  Heb.  i.  2,  8.)  I  will  preach  on  next 
Sunday.  Can  any  be  more  grand  in  itself, 
or  more  consolatory  to  us  sinners  ? 

How  go  you  on  ?  do  you  sec  any  opening 
in  the  affair  we  last  talked  about  ?  are  you 
come  to  any  determination  ?  Remember 
him  who  sees,  this  very  moment,  all  the 
consequences  of  every  step  we  take  ;  and 
who  hath  said,  in  tender  compassion  to  our 
ignorance,  "  The  Lord  shall  guide  thee  ccn- 
tinually."  Pray,  beware  of  precipitate  re- 
solutions ;  festina  Icnte.  Whatever  we  do, 
whithersoever  we  go,  may  we  say  with  the 
Psalmist,  "  This  God  is  our  God  for  ever 
and  ever  ;  he  shall  be  our  guide  even  unto 
death."  My  weak  state  of  body  dispirits 
my  mind,  and  enervates  my  hand.  Oh  that 
I  may  be  strong  in  faith,  joyful  through 
hope,  and  rooted  in  charity !  and  not  I 
only,  but  my  dear  friend,  whose  I  am  cor- 
dially and  inviolably,  while,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXXXII. 

Dear  Sir, — I  should  be  glad  to  suggest 
any  thii'g,  either  for  your  im])rovement  or 
consolation.  But  what  can  I  suggest  while 
you  entertain  such  hard  thoughts  of  Christ, 
and  will  not  be  persuaded  out  of  this 
strange  notion,  "  That  the  curse  of  God 
has  lighted  on  you,  and  v*'ill  follow  you  to 
the  grave?"  Such  a  thought  (and  it  must 
be  taken  up  without  any  real  foundation) 
not  only  renders  you  extremely  miserable, 
but  will  blast  all  your  future  usefulness. 
Suppose  you  had  rebelled  against  God, 
even  in  a  more  extraordinary  degree  than 
even  your  owa  imygination  can  paint ;  and 
suppose  you  was  rejected  by  him  at  the 
present ;  yet  what  says  the  apostle  St. 
James?  chap.  iv.  JO.  "  Humble  yourself 
in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  and  he  will  lift 
you  up." 

aAs  to  the  qnofciticns  from  Mr.  's 

letter  to  you,  wherein  he  observes,  with  a 
kind  of  triumphant  malignity,  "  That  the 
devil  had  taken  an  advantage  of  you,  in  roliu 
tion  to  some  imprudent  management  in  the, 

affair  at ,  &c.  &c.  &c.  and  dragged  you 

(as  he  expresses  it)  through  a  horse-pond, 
dirtied  and  wet,  to  the  great  diversion  of 
the  spectators  ;"  I  ask,  of  what  spectators  ? 
Of  the  worhlly- minded  oidy,  and  the  en- 
vious, to  wboju  youc  former  tlourishing. 
state,  as  ti  first-rate  Christian,  was  a  con- 
stant  -aw}   visiWe   reproach  ;    yet    Christ 


902 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


(though  you  are  now  thus  depressed)  is 
still  your  friend,  and  will  break  Satan's 
teeth  ;  and  though  dirty,  will  cleanse  you ; 
thoui,'h  wet,  will  receive  and  warm  you. 

Now  let  me  put  a  question  to  you  : 
Woidd  you  reject  your  child,  because,  when 
dressed  in  its  best  clothes,  he  had  met  with 
a  like  misfortune  ?  Or  suj)pose  he  had 
rambled  out  in  the  snow,  and  scratched 
liimself  with  briers,  and  come  to  you  bleed- 
ing and  cold,  would  you  turn  him  out  of 
doors,  when  lie  claimed  your  pity  ?  We 
do  not  know  Christ  well  enouirh.  How 
kind  !  how  good  he  is  to  us  !  What  is  my 
kindness  and  compassion  for  you  (on  which 
you  seem  to  place  so  high  a  value)  in  com- 
parison of  Christ's?  Have  I  been  nailed 
to  the  cross  for  you  ?  Oh  pray  earnestly 
to  Him  ;  for 

To  Him,  to  Him,  'tis  given. 

Passion,  and  care,  and  anguisli  to  destroy  ; 
Through  Him,  soft  peace  and  plenitude  of  joy 
Perpetual  o'er  the  world  redeem'd  shall  (low. 

Prior's  Solomon. 

He  has  satisfied  God  for  all  your  sins  ;  he 
is  your  advocate,  and  has  procured  for  you 
the  inestimable  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to 
subdue  your  iniquities.  Cultivate  the  love 
of  God  in  your  heart,  and  he  will  make 
your  path  of  duty  plain  before  you.  I  dare 
say,  God  will  make  you  more  abundantly 
useful  than  ever.  Oh  bring  your  mind  off 
from  this  destructive  notion,  "  That  the 
curse  of  God  follows  you."  This  is  a  sug- 
gestion of  Satan's  to  prevent  your  useful- 
ness ;  but  remember  that  text,  "  The  Lord 
knoweth  how  to  deliver  the  godly  out  of 
temptation,"  2  Pet.  ii.  9.  ;  and  he  will  cer- 
tainly deliver  you  out  of  this,  and  restore 
you  to  his  wonted  favour. 

Do  not  select  such  terrifying  texts  for 
your  meditation,  as  in  your  letter  you  tell 
me  you  have  done.  It  is  as  improper,  as  if 
you  should  eat  the  coldest  melon,  or  use 
the  most  slight  covering,  when  shivering 
with  an  ague.  Choose,  the  morning  after 
you  receive  this  letter,  (by  way  of  antidote 
to  the  texts  of  your  own  selecting,)  the 
following  for  your  meditation  :  "  His  mer- 
cy is  greater  than  the  heavens,"  Psalm 
cviii.  4.  "  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever," 
Psalm  cxviii.  1.  Put  together  these  two 
expressions,  and  see  whether  they  do  not 
amount  to  more  than  either  your  impru- 
dences or  your  distress.  You  have,  to  be 
sure,  done  amiss,  and  dealt  foolishly  in  the 

matter  of .     God  forbid  I  should 

justify  your  conduct ;  but  oh  !  let  it  not  be 
said,  let  it  not  be  once  surmised,  that  it  is 
beyond  the  reach  of  God's  unmeasurable 
goodness  to  pardon,  or  of  Christ's  immense- 
ly rich  merits  to  expiate.  The  Lord  loves 
you  with  an  everlasting  love  ;  and  take,  if 
you  please,  the^  latter  part  of  the  xxxth  of 
Isaiah,  ver.    18.   for  your   contemplation 


the  words  are,  "  For  the  Lord  is  a  God  of 
judgment;  blessed  are  they  that  wait  for 
him." 

None  can  tell,  none  can  think,  what 
mercy  there  is  with  the  Lord  ;  with  incon- 
ceivable tenderness  his  bowels  yearn  to- 
wards the  weakest,  frailest  believer  in  his 
dear  Son.  We  have  dishonoured  his  holi- 
ness, and  violated  his  law  ;  but  let  us  not, 
to  accumulate  our  follies,  derogate  from  the 
boundless  riches  of  his  mercy  in  Jesus 
Christ,  to  all  those  who  seek  and  entreat 
it.  There  is  a  wide  difference  between 
humiliation  and  despair.  Draw  near  to 
Christ  with  an  humble  boldness. 

]\Iay  you  see  many,  many  years  on  earth  ; 
and  when  the  earth  shall  be  no  more,  may 
you  be  received  into  the  New  Jerusalem  ; 
where  dvvelleth  righteousness,  consummate 
righteousness,  and  everlasting  happiness. 
This,  my  dear  sir,  is  my  earnest  wish  and 
my  fervent  prayer  for  you,  and  for  myself; 
who  am,  with  great  compassion  and  true 
regard,  your  obliged  humble  servant  and 
friend. 

P.  S. — My  favourite  author  Liborins 
Zimmermannus,  whispers  to  me  on  this 
occasion  the  following  passage  :  "  Said  I 
not  unto  thee.  If  thou  wouldst  believe, 
thou  shouldst  SEE  the  glory  of  God,  and 
experience  his  goodness,  when  least  de- 
served, or  rather  notoriously  forfeited  ?" 
Hence  may  we  be  convinced,  that  his  lov- 
ing kindness  is  unbounded,  is  unwearied, 
is  infinite  ;  as  much  surpassing  all  our  fol- 
lies and  all  our  thoughts,  as  the  world  of 
waters  exceeds  the  drop  of  a  bucket.  Oh 
for  a  spirit  of  steady  faith,  to  live  under 
the  continual  belief  of  this  precious,  pre- 
cious truth. 


LETTER  CLXXXIH. 

Satmdat/  mornhig. 

Dear    Siii, — I  am   sorry  to    hear   that 

Mr.  should  think  my  doctrine  tends 

to  the  introduction  of  licentiousness.  Far, 
very  far  from  it !  Mine  is  the  genuine 
doctrine  of  the  Scriptures  ;  and  the  only 
doctrine  to  reclaim  mankind,  as  it  encou- 
rages sinners  not  to  continue  in  their  sins, 
-but  to  turn  unto  their  injured  Lord,  and 
receive  salvation  at  his  beneficent  hand. 
"  Him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no 
wise  cast  out,"  are  our  blessed  Master's 
own  words  ;  and  ail  my  writings,  preach- 
ing, and  conversation,  are  founded  on  that 
comfortable  declaration  to  my  lost,  undone 
fellow-creatures  ;  that  tender  invitation  to 
those,  in  whom  there  is  no  health. 

But  Mr.  is  offended  at  this.      He, 

like  the  Egyptian  taskmasters  o-f  old,  re- 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


903 


qiiires  men  to  make  brick  witlioiit  straw. 
"  Let  us  (says  he,  uiunindful  of  our  im- 
potence) make  ourselves  better,  and  then 
go  to  Christ,  who  will  receive  lis  favour- 
ably for  our  works'  sake."  But  in  this 
A'iew,  our  works,  even  if  we  could  perform 
them  without  the  grace  of  Christ,  would 
be  ineffectual ;  Luke  xvii.  -20.  Are  these 
capable  of  expiating  the  guilt  of  a  polluted 
race,  and  of  procuring  salvation?  If  our 
works  could  do  this,  then  these  and  not 
Christ  would  be  our  Saviour,  If  we  had 
a  right  to  demand  a  recompense  for  our 
works,  even  on  a  supposition  they  were 
perfect,  then  a  Redeemer  and  his  death 
would  be  useless.      Surely,  therefore,  Mr. 

's  notions   are  contrary  to   the  whole 

tenor  of  the  gospel !  May  the  divine  Spirit 
open  his  eyes,  and  incline  his  heart,  to  dis- 
cover that  Christ  offers  himself  to  all  who 
will  come.  The  vilest  of  men  have  just 
the  same  right  to  Christ  and  his  merits,  as 
the  best  of  men  ;  a  right  founded  not  on 
their  awakened  desires,  not  on  any  thing 
in  themselves,  but  purely,  solely,  entirely 
on  the  free  grant  of  a  Saviour.  We  are 
all  sinners,  though  in  a  more  or  less  degree  ; 
and  we  must  all  flee  to  Christ  for  spiritual 
blessings,  not  as  deserving,  but  as  guilty 
creatures  ; — a  sad  mortification  this  to  the 
proud  worldlings,  or  to  the  self-righteous 
moralist,  whom  it  is  the  design  of  the  gos- 
pel to  humble. 

Jlr.  (as  I  dare  say  you  have  often 

heard  him)  speaks  of  heaven  made  easy, 
"  upon  condition  of  obedience  to  the  gospel 
commands."*  This  would  not  be  very  easy 
to  me,  whatever  it  might  be  to  him.  Hut  if 
heaven  and  eternal  life  be  "  the  gift  of  God 
through  Jesus  Christ,"  and  given  us  on  ac- 
count of  his  obedience  unto  death,  then  it 
is  easy  indeed.  What  love  is  here  !  Well 
might  the  apostle  Paul  say,  that  "  the  love 
of  Christ  constraineth  us."  Christ  makes 
lis  free ;  and  those  whom  He  makes  free, 
are  free  indeed,  John  viii.  3fi.  This  is  the 
way  of  salvation  pointed  out  to  us  by  the 
wisdom  of  the  Almighty.  I\Iay  om-  eyes 
be  enlightened  to  see  this  way,  which  many 
wise  men  overlook,  at  which  many  great 
men  are  offended  ! 

I  wish  Mr. would  study  his  Bible 

more,  and  the  classics  less.  There  is  little 
good  to  be  got  by  reading  the  Scripture 
carelessly  ;  but  he  who  humbly  applies  to 
God  for  direction,  and  exercises  himself 
therein  constantly  and  conscientiously,  will 
find  such  an  ellicacy  as  is  not  to  be  found 
in  any  other  book  whatever ;  and  therefore 
t  is  called,  by  way  of  pre-eminence,  The 


•  Mr.  Hervey  had  seen  so  bad  an  use  made  by  the 
Socinians  of  conditions  and  requisites,  in  opposition 
to  the  doctrine  of  free  grace,  that  he  could  by  no 
means  allow  even  faith,  much  less  our  obedience,  to 
be  called  a  condition. 


BIBLE  (or  Thk  BOOK);  importing, 
that  as  this,  and  only  this,  is  a  divine  work, 
no  other  books  can  be  compared,  or  even 
so  much  as  named,  with  it.      It  is  the  book 

of  books  ;  the  Book  of  God.      Mr. 

however  neglects  this  book,  I  fear ;  and 
indeed,  if  I  may  speak  my  sentiments  to 
you  freely,  I  look  upon  him  to  be  so  puffed 
up  with  pride,  and  the  conceit  of  his  own 
abilities,  that  his  passioris  run  away  with 
him,  find  he  tires  at  every  thing  which 
thwarts  any  of  the  notions  he  has  imbibed. 
Is  not  such  a  one  disqualified  for  friend- 
ship ?  Can  a  man  of  his  disposition  attend 
coolly  to  arguments  against  his  preconceived 
opinions,  how  modestly  or  forcibly  soever 
such  arguments  may  be  urged  ?  This  surely 
is  not  the  spirit  of  the  gospel ;  nor  are  these 
the  qualities  of  one  who  professes  himself 
a  disciple  of  that  Master,  whose  exhortation 
is,  "  Learn  of  me,  for  I  am  lowly  and 
meek."     I  have  no  hopes  of  doing  Mr. 

any  good ;  and  as  we  think  so  very 

differently,  the  less  we  have  to  do  with  one 
another  perhaps  the  better.  He  really  is 
not  now  fit  even  for  a  companion,  much 
less  for  a  bosom  friend.  No  man  can  be 
a  proper  associate  (as  a  writer  of  no  small 
penetration  has  judiciously  remarked)  in 
whom  these  or  such  like  infirmities  are  pre- 
dominant ;  namely, 

J .  If  he  be  reserved,  or  be  incapable  of 
communicating  his  mind  freely.  2.  If  he 
be  haughty,  and  proud  of  his  knowledge, 
imperious  in  his  disposition,  and  fond  of 
imposing  his  own  sentiments  on  us.  3.  If 
he  be  positive,  and  will  dispute  to  the  end, 
by  resisting  the  clearest  evidence,  rather 
than  be  overcome.  4.  If  he  be  fretful  and 
peevish,  ready  to  take  things  in  a  wrong 
sense.  5.  If  he  affect  wit  on  all  occasions, 
and  is  full  of  his  conceits,  puns,  quibbles, 
jests,  and  repartees.  These  may  agreeably 
entertain  and  animate  an  hour  of  mirth,  but 
they  have  no  place  in  the  search  after  truth. 
6.  If  he  carry  about  him  a  sort  of  craft  and 
cunning,  and  disguise,  acting  rather  like  a 
spy  than  a  friend.  Have  a  care  of  such  a 
one  as  will  make  an  ill  use  of  freedom  in 
conversation,  and  immediately  charge  you 
with  shocking  tenets,  when  you  ha])pen  to 
differ  from  those  sentiments  which  authori- 
ty or  custom  has  established.  7.  In  short, 
avoid  the  man  who  ])ractises  any  thing  that 
is  unbecoming  the  character  of  a  sincere, 
free,  and  open  searcher  alter  truth.  And, 
above  all  things,  jiray  and  work  against  all 
evil  qualities  in  your  own  breast. 

I  had  a  letter  lately  from  our  old  ac- 
quaintance in  the  West,  who  complains 
grievously  of  his  burdens,  as  he  calls  them. 
It  seems  he  has  ten  children  ;  and  is  hijjped 
to  death  lest  he  and  his  family  shoidd  be 
reduced  to  beggary.  His  income,  to  be 
sm-e,  is  scanty  and  precarious  ;  tut  I  con- 


304 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


jured  him  not  to  be  dilRdent  of  Providence, 
reminded  liim  of  our  blessed  Piaster's 
charge  (Matth.  vi.  2.5.)  against  being  too; 
anxious  about  our  subsistence  in  this  life; 
and  I  sent  him  likewise  the  following  pas- 
sage from  a  poem  of  the  Rev.  ]\Ir.  Onely's  ; 
assuring  him,  at  tlie  same  time,  that  if  he 
would  have  a  due  concern  for  the  things 
that  are  God's,  then  God  would  also  be 
careful  of  him  and  his. 

But  daughters,  sons,  alas  !  thy  weakness  scan  ; 
Know  prescience  never  was  design'd  for  man. 
Their  wants  you  dread,  some  able  Iiand  supplies  ; 
Their  wealth  you  build,  some  accident  destroys. 
From  thee  some  mites,  and  honest  fcme  be  given  ; 
The  rest  from  virtue,  and  the  care  of  Heaven. 

He  says,  If  iif.  had  not  been  deprived 
OF  FORESIGHT,  hc  had  never  married  ;  isnd, 
by  way  of  explanation,  sent  me  an  odd 
quotation,  which  I  have  here  transcribed  : 
"  I  cannot  but  admire  the  wisdom  of  nature, 
in  denying  to  men  and  women  that  foresiyht 
when  they  are  young  which  they  acquire  at 
a  greater  age  ;  for  without  that,  I  believe 
the  world  could  not  Fu!)sist  above  fourscore 
years,  and  a  new  creation  of  men  would  be 
wanted  once  every  hundred  years  at  least ; 
since  the  inconveniencies  of  marriage  are 
experimentalli/  known  to  overbalance  the 
conveniencies.  This  young  folks  will  not 
believe,  and  thus  the  world  is  peopled." 

Your  friend  Colonel  has  made  a 

present  of  Steel's  Christian  Hero  to  all  his 
officers.  I  wish,  when  he  had  been  in  such 
a  disposition,  that  he  had  given  to  all  the 
common  men.  Dr.  Woodward's  Soldier's  I 
Monitor.  This  book  was  wrote  by  the  | 
command  of  Queen  Anne,  as  I  have  been  i 
told,  and  delivered  to  every  soldier  at  the 
government's  expense.  The  Sailor's  Mo- 
nitor,  wrote  by  the  same  hand,  was  given  to 
every  sailor.  And  I  think  it  very  impoli- 
tic in  the  government  to  discontinue  so 
well-judged  a  donation.  If  I  was  chaplain 
to  a  regiment,  I  would  preach  before  the 
soldiers  on  t!iis  text  :  "  I  have  set  the  Lord 
always  before  nic  ;  because  he  is  at  my  right 
hand,  I  shall  n,ot  be  moved."  Psalm  xvi.  8. 
Your  redections  on  seeing  the  skeleton 
at  Oxford,  and  on  your  near  view  of  Death 
(in  the  emblematical  shape  of  a  skeleton 
with  an  hour-glass  and  a  dart)  advancijig 
to\vards  you  in  your  Lnte  sickness,  have  such 
a  similarity  u'ith  those  of  a  worthy  friend 
of  mine,  as  I  think  will  both  surprise  and 
please  you.  "  Oil !  my  deiir  sir,"  says  he, 
"  to  tal/;  of  death,  and  to  enter  in  earnest 
upon  dying,  are  two  different  things.  To 
view  the  messenger,  who  comes  from  the 
Judge  of  all,  as  actually  approaching  with 
his  open  commission  in  one  hand,  and  his 
uplilted  dart  to  execute  it  in  anotlier,  (an 
expecting  grave,  and  an  eternal  judgment 
in  his  immediate  train),  irs  as  different  as 
to  >iew  a  painted  lion,  5v,ho  is' only  terrible 


on  canvass,  and  actually  to  see  him  with 
his  rolling  eyes,  and  really  to  hear  his  tre- 
mendous roar." 

Have  you  seen  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ad.im's 
Practical  Lectures  on  the  Church  (Jate- 
chism  ?  He  is  an  experienced  Christ'.Hn, 
and  a  spirited  performance  it  is.  'Jhe 
same  gentleman  wrote  the  preface  to  Mr. 
Walker's  (Truro)  heart-searching  sermons. 

Di".  S made  me  a  present  of  it ;   and 

wrote  in  the  blank  leaf  before  the  title- ppgc, 
"  What  betwixt  the  frenzy  of  anger,  the 
ague  of  hoj;es  and  fears,  the  ff\eT  of  love, 
the  consf.mption  of  envy,  our  distem])ered 
minds  are  kept  under  a  continual  disease, 
against  which  these  lectures  are  a  certain 
specific."  Mr.  Adam  is  rector  of  Win- 
tiingham  in  Lincolnshire ;  and  has  made, 
I  am  told,  an  amazing  reformation  amongst 
the  people  in  that  neighbourhood,  who, 
before  his  settlement  amongst  them,  were 
remarkably  dissolute  and  iLiK-rant.  He 
spares  no  pains  in  discliargirg  his  minis- 
terial duty.  His  congregtitipns  are  very 
large,  I  hear;  and  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, come  ten  or  a  dozen  miles  to  attend 
his  preaching. 

A  gentleman  lent  me  the  otl/er  day  Dr. 
Leland's  Viev.'  of  the  Principal  Deistical 
Writers  ;  amongst  which  is  one  Morgan, 
who  styles  himself  a  moral  i'iiii.osopher, 
a  cliaraeter  which  is  of  late  grown  very  fa- 
shionable amongst  our  modern  Deists  ;  but 
THEY  might,  with  equal  propriety,  call 
themselves  miraculous  healers  ;  for  they 
could  as  soo!i  heal  a  decayed  body  by  their 
moral  philosopli//,  as  thky  could  cure  the 
sin-sick  soul  by  it.  ]Miberabic  teachers 
are  all  such,  who  iJum  pretend  to  reform 
either  themselves  or  mankind.  He  only 
can  cast  devils  out  of  the  soul  who  can  say 
to  the  leper,  "  Be  thou  clean,"  and  to  the 
storm,  "  I3e  thou  still."  He  only  can  heal 
the  decayed  body  who  hath  said  to  the  pa- 
ralytic, "  Ti'.ke  up  thy  bed,  and  walk." 

I  am,  dear  sir,  with  great  respect  and 
much  esteem,  ycnir  most  obliged  and  very 
hunible  servant,  &c. 

P.S, — I  have  a  particular  reason  for  de- 
siring you  would  give  me  your  well-weighed 
opinion  of  the  amiable  Dr.  Y/atts'  Ortho- 
doxy and  Charity  United.  It  is  wrote  with 
an  excellent  design.  The  gentleman  who 
persuaded  me  to  purchase  it  is  a  person  of 
great  candour,  learning,  and  ])iety.  He  is 
so  fond  of  this  book,  that  he  iias  recom- 
mended it  to  all  his  distant  acfjuaintaiicc, 
and  rarely  goes  into  any  company  vvithout 
introducing  it  in  the  conversation  ;  he  extols 
it  in  the  strongest  terms  as  a  piece  which 
no  Christian  ought  to  be  without,  since  its 
grand  end  is  to  promote  charitable  senti- 
ments and  practices  tov.ards  one  another, 
amidst  tlie  numerous  follies  and  errors  of 
the   time.     Woidd   to    Gud   cur  religious 


A    COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


905 


rliffcrences  were  pvopeily  settled  on  a  sure 
found. ifioii,  that  the  coiiteiirliiiaj  piirtics 
wi're  ri'eoiicik'd  in  love,  and  thiit  "  ;il!  we 
>vho  cmU  ouis<lve.s  Christians  niit^lit  hold 
the  faith  in  unity  of  spirit,  in  t':e  bond  of 
peace,  and  in  righteousness  of  life."  Amen, 
und  amen. 


LETTER  CLXXXIV. 

Weston -Fnvrll,  lYov.  4,  lv.>7. 

Dkau  Phi, —  Yon  wonder  at  tny  delr.y  in 
«nswerin,i<  your  very  friendly  leiter.  This 
is  tlie  true  cause  :  When  1  received  your 
favour,  I  was  very  busy  in  dispatehinir  to 
tUo  press  my  three  f.ist  sermons  lately  pub- 
iisiied.  By  some  accident  your  letter  was 
inishiul,  arid  could  not  be  found.  This  day 
it  came  to  light ;  i>.\id  the  moment  I  looked 
upon  the  date,  it  struck  me  with  a  painful 
regret,  a  regret  almost  equal  to  the  pleasure 
I  enjoyed  in  your  edifying  conversation. 

Your  lady  has  shewn  the  most  welcome 
complaisance  to  use,  and  to  the  rose;*  to 
me,  ni  accepting  what  is  less  than  a  trifle  ; 
to  the  rose,  in  putting  it  to  such  a  use. 
Could  tluit  poor  vegetable  be  sensible,  it 
would  rejoice  to  be  a  remembrancer  of  ifs 
most  amiable  Creator.  I'lie  prophet  calis 
upon  the  whole  creation,  inanimate  as  it  is, 
to  exult  and  triumph  in  the  grace  ofourin- 
earnate  God.  "  Sing,  O  heavens  ;  be  joy. 
ful,  O  earth ;  break  forth  into  singing,  ye 
mountains ;  O  i'orests,  and  every  tree," 
whether  cultivated  or  wild ;  "  for  the 
Jjord,"  by  his  incarnatioiu  blood,  and  right- 
eousness, "  has  redeemed  Isiael,  and  glori- 
lied  himself,"  most  magnibx-ently  displayed 
all  his  divine  i)erfections,  in  the  salvation  of 
Jacob. 

I  heartily  wish  that  ]\Irs.  may  be- 
come, every  day,  more  and  more  acquainted 
with  tlie  KosK  ot'  SiiAaoN  ;  that  his  loveli- 
ness, riches,  and  glory,  may  be  revealed  in 
her  heart  by  the  lioly  (ihost.  Happy  tlie 
souls  in  which  this  Mower  of  heaven  blos- 
soms !  wliicli  are  charmed  with  its  beauty, 
und  refreshed  with  its  odours.  Their  hap- 
pmess  will  not  fade  as  a  leaf,  but  like  the 
merit  and  mercy  of  their  Lord,  will  be  new 
every  morning,  new  every  moment,  new 
through  eternal  ages. 

I  wish  I  could  gratify  yoin-  benevolent 
tcnijjer,  by  giving  you  a  comfoi'table  account 
of  niy  health,  lint  notliing  administered 
foi'  its  succour  and  restoration  succeeds.  It 
.seems  to  be  the  will  of  our  great  Pl)ysician, 
that  my  strength  should  be  labour  and  sor- 


row. May  liis  hi;ly  will  be  done  !  only  may 
my  faith  in  his  blood  be  strong,  and  my  love 
of  his  name  be  vrnrm.  Tlien  I  shall  meet 
yon,  ere  long,  arnul-t  the  iiuiumerable  com- 
pany of  angels,  ;:nd  no  more  complain, 
"  i\Iy  head,  my  head  ;'  no  more  say,  "  1 
am  sick." 

How  shall  I  ncompenso  my  generous 
doctor,  for  prescribing  without  a  fee  ?  By 
v.'ishing,  that  he  may  never  want  the  aid 
which  he  so  kindly  tenders  to  his  affectionate 
friend  and  brother  in  Ciirist,  &c. 


*  W!icn  this  gentleman  was  at  Weston,  Mr.  Ilervey 
{?.s  he  walked  with  him  in  the  garden)  ijlucked  a 
ruse,  and  dcircd  him  to  ine'5L'iit  it  to  his  wife,  to  put 
lur  m  in  nd  ot'  the  i<o;it;  ok  Siiaiiox.  She  paid  that 
regard  to  the  j;iver  and  thtfut,  aj  lo  put  il  intJ  a 
jVame  with  a  glass. 


LETTER  CLXXXV. 

Dkaii  Sir, —  Upon  a  repeated  review  of 
yoin-  sketches  for  instructing  your  family  on 
Stnidiiy  evenings,  I  really  do  not  kninv  how 
to  improve  them.  I  rliink  they  are  well 
digested  ;  but  when  you  exercise  your  talent; 
in  speaking  from  those  sketches,  do  not  for- 
get to  implore  a  blessing  on  what  you  are 
goitig  about-  Stir  up  the  gift  of  God  which 
is  in  you  by  a  zealous  use  of  them,  and  you 
yourself  will  improve  them  better  than  I 
can  for  you.  1  shall  only  suggest,  that  as 
soon  as  yoti  have  finished,  set  down,  as  fresh 
heads  for  another  occasion,  what  new 
thoughts  occurred  to  you  while  you  was 
speaking.  Oh  let  us  work  while  the  ilay 
l.<sts  !  My  dear  friend,  the  Judge  is  at  the 
door,  and  eternity  at  band-  May  we  watch 
and  firay  alsviiys,  that  we  inay  be  foimd  wor- 
thy to  stand  before  the  Son  of  man  at  bis 
coming. 

I  enclose  part  of  a  letter,  sent  by  a  clever 
man  and  no  mean  scholar. 

"  This  with  infinite  pleasure  I  can  inform 
yon,  that  I  am  now  brought  to  a  sense  of 
my  duty,  to  which  I  was  an  entire  stranger 
till  lately.  Glory  be  to  God,  I  have  now 
some  concern  upon  my  mind,  some  serious 
thoughts  of  a  future  state  !  How  amazing 
is  it,  that  a  jierson  should  arrive  at  my 
years,  without  knowing  any  thing  of  the  re- 
ligion he  professes  !  strange  as  it  is,  this 
was  my  case ;  for,  till  within  these  six 
months,  I  was  as  much  in  the  dark  as  to 
spiritual  affairs,  as  one  that  had  never  heard 
the  nttme  of  Christ.  The  Bible  was  to  me 
the  same  as  an  unknowa  language,  and  all 
my  pretensions  to  religion  were  nothing  but 
a  mere  lifeless  formality.  Oh  that  the  in- 
expressible marks  of  the  love  of  my  God 
and  his  goodness  to  me,  may  increase  the' 
love  I  owe  to  him  more  and  more  every 
day  !" 

Our  frieiul  Iilr-  H ,  who  you  know 

is  a  great  f  ivourer  of  the  mystic  writers,  has 
desired  int!  to  read  Mr.  Law's  Spirit  of 
Prayer,  and  Sjjirit  of  Love,  \vhich  is  an  ap- 
liendix  to  it.  I  shall  a>k  hiui,  whether  he 
designed  it  to  pii^;;ie  or  edify  me?     I  am 


906  A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 

sure  it  has  done  the  first  to  me  ;  may  it  do 
the  latter  to  him.  Oh,  what  need  have  we 
to  pray  for  that  blessed  Spirit  which  may 
lead  us  into  ail  truth  ! 

I  begin  to  be  weaned  from  human  writ- 
ings, even  from  the  most  applauded.  The 
pure  milk  of  the  divine  word  my  soul  co- 
vets. Do  not  you  relish  its  sweetness,  and 
taste  it,s  power  more  and  more  ?  The  apostle 
enjoins  us  "  in  every  thing  to  give  thanks, 
for  this  is  the  will  of  God,"  1  Thess.  v.  18  ; 
and  if  we  are  to  thank  him  for  every  thing, 
how  ought  we  to  thank  him,  how  can  we 
sufficiently  thank  him,  for  such  a  treasury 
of  blessings  as  the  Holy  Bible  contains  for 
us ;  and  yet,  is  it  credible  ?  there  are,  there 
are  those,  who  neglect  these  gracious  tid- 
ings of  a  reconciliation  with  God,  through 
the  mediation  of  his  own  Son  Jesus  Christ. 

But  whatever  be  the  conduct  of  others, 
let  you  and  I,  dear  sir,  esteem  it  as  it  de- 
serves, and  say  with  the  Psalmist,  "  I  will 
delight  myself  in  thy  statutes,  I  will  not 
forget  thy  word.  Make  me  to  understand 
the  way  of  thy  precej^ts,  so  shall  I  talk  of 
thy  wondrous  works."  David,  you  see, 
prayed  to  God  for  illumination,  and  talked 
of  divine  things.  That  this  may  be  accom- 
plished in  us,  and  that  we  may  follow  Da- 
vid's example,  I  dare  say  you  will  add  an 
amen,  to  the  amen  of,  dear  sir,  yours  very 
sincerely. 

P.S. — I  am  told,  and  grieved  I  am  to 

hear  it,  that  the  once   zealous  Mr.  is 

grown  quite  indolent,  (no  very  laudable 
character  for  a  clergyman,)  and  has  entirely 
laid  aside  his  translation  and  improvement 
of  the  elegant  Dr.  Stearne,  De  visitatioiie 
infinnorum.  He  showed  me  a  specimen  of 
it  some  months  ago.  The  translation  was 
spirited,  and  the  notes  well  calculated  to 
supply  the  author's  deficiencies.  Nothing 
perhaps  is  more  wanted,  or  would  be  more 
useful  (especially  to  the  clergy,)  than  a  ju- 
dicious treatise  on  visiting  the  sick,  in  a 
neat  pocket  volume ;  but  I  am  sensible 
there  is  nothing  equally  dllTicult  to  execute. 
I  never  yet  saw  one  to  my  mind.  The 
Clergyman's  Companion,  as  it  is  called,  is 
little  more  than  a  collection  of  prayers,  with 
the  order  of  visitation  of  the  sick,  out  of 
the  common  prayer,  the  communion  service, 
and  the  office  of  public  and  private  baptism. 

If,  methinks,  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Walker  I  dy  for  the  vessel;  and  to  me,  I  assure  you, 
of  Truro  could  find  time  to  set  about  it,  it  it  will  be  more  precious  than  the  merchan- 
would  be  done   effectually,  because  he  is  a  disc  of  silver,  or  the  gain  of  fine  gold. 


LETTER  CLXXXVL 

Weston-Favell,  Jan.  8,  1757. 

Dear  Sir, — Many  thanks  for  your  last 
letter  ;  indeed  it  delighted  and  edified  me. 
Think  no  more  of  making  me  any  present 
from  your  collection  of  books.  It  is  in  your 
power  to  give  me  a  greater  gratification, 
from  the  good  treasure  of  your  heart. 

I  am  particularly  delighted  with  your  in- 
terpretation of  "LCU  ATH  TZDC."  Your 
sense  is  grand,  and  inexpressibly  important, 
and  without  your  sense,  methinks  the 
whole  translation  is  like  a  magiiificent  por- 
tal, without  a  hinge  to  turn  upon.  1  am 
edified  and  comforted  with  your  analysis  of 
the  whole  verse.  A  most  encouraging,  and 
truly  evangelical  representation  of  the  co- 
venant of  grace  !  I  am  sorry  you  are  di- 
verted from  enlarging  t'.pon  so  excellent  a 
subject.  Let  this  work  not  be  laid  aside, 
but  only  postponed. 

I  am    much   pleased   with  your  remarks 

on  Dr. 's  sermon.      I  saw  it  some  time 

ago,  and  thought  with  you,  that  he  entirely 
mistook  the  meaning  of  his  text ;  that  his 
views  of  the  gospel  were  very  dim,  and  his 
account  of  that  miracle  of  grace,  salvation 
by  Christ,  very  lame.  I  had  also  the  hap- 
piness to  be  thoroughly  of  your  opinion 
with  regard  to  his  injudicious  outcries 
against  reason.  I  declare,  I  look  upon  my 
religion  to  be  reason  in  its  highest  refine- 
ment. My  reason  says,  "  Prove  all  things, 
admit  nothing  without  a  satisfactory  proof; 
and  when  any  thing  is  proved  to  be  reveal- 
ed by  God,  receive  it  as  an  oracle."  I 
cannot  but  think  likewise,  that  every  part 
of  our  religion  (though  absolutely  undiscov- 
erable  by  reason)  is,  when  discovered  and 
understood,  perfectly  rational :  as  it  com- 
ports with  the  attributes  of  the  Godhead, 
suits  the  state  of  man,  and  is  most  admira- 
bly adapted  to  display  the  divine  glory,  and 
redress  human  misery.  Whatever  is  form- 
ed with  such  a  tendency,  to  this  my  reason 
most  readily  subscribes,  and  pronounces 
worthy  of  all  acceptance. 

I  hope  by  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the 
enclosed  frank,  you  will  have  a  freight  rea- 


jnost  experienced 
been   accustomed 


Christian,  and    has 

to   the  chambers  of  tli< 


You  have  taken  an    crfectual   method  to 
make   me   (enervated   as  my  arm  is,    and 


sick,  and  \NCuld  write    from   facts,  and  his  i  languid   as    my   sjjirits  are)  more  punctual 
own   knowledge   of  the   human   mind.      I  j  for  the  future  in   my  correspondence.      If 
would  not  give  a  rush  for  a  jumble  compiled  j  this  hand  hath  strength   to  hold  a  pen,  it 
from  different  authors  :    That  is   the  labour 
of  the  head,  and   not  the    feeling    of  the 
heart,  and  can  never  produce  the  effects  I 
wish  to  see. 


shall  not  be  tardy  in  executing  this  office, 

or  rather  in  discharging  this  debt  any  more. 

I  am   entirely  of  your  opinion  with  re- 

g;ud   to   the   aspect    of    the  times ;    there 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


9d7 


seems  to  be  a  Mack  clotsd  liaiif^ing  over  the  |  blood.  Is  it  not,  as  it  were,  refusing  to  em- 
Protestaiit  world.  I  t'eur  we  h:ive  abused  i  bark  in  his  cause  ?  How  many  sick  might 
our  privileges.     Now,  perhaps,  the  Lord  is  |  be  improved  and  comforted  by  a  physician, 


going  to  take  his  fan  in  his  hanti,  and 
thoroughly  purge  his  floor.  Piepare  us, 
blessed  Jesus  !  be  our  strength  in  an  hour 
of  trial  !   be  our  light  in  a  daj-  of  darkness  ! 

I  have  had  some  thoughts  of  publishing 
a  couple  of  sermons,  preached  on  the  two 
preceding  fast- days,  relative  to  this  import- 
ant point;  one  upon  Ezek.  xviii.  27,  the 
other  upon  Heb.  xi.  28.  Of  these  two 
discourses,  contrary  to  my  usual  method,  I 
happened  to  take  notes.  They  pretend  to 
nothing  refined  or  extraordinary;  they  affect 
neither  soaring  sentiments  nor  lofty  style  ; 
they  are  studiously  plain  ;  only  I  think  they 
enlarge  more  upon  Christ  our  sanctificatiou, 
our  redemption,  our  only  refuge,  than  most 
of  the  discourses  which  I  have  seen  written 
on  that  occasion.  M^ili  you  give  me  your 
advice,  and  put  up  a  prayer  for  the  divine 
direction. 

I  long  for  the  arrival  of  your  precious 
cargo  ;  to  me  ii  is  jieculiarly  precious,  as  it 


without  any  hinderance  to  his  prescriptions, 
detriment  to  his  character,  or  loss  of  his 
time  ?  Oh  that  these  masters  of  the  heal- 
ing art,  would  set  the  Lord  always  before 
them,  and  then  he  would  direct  their  paths. 
I  was  looking  the  other  day  into  the  life 
of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  who  wrote  the  Arca- 
dia, in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  ;  and  I  find 
it  recorded  of  him,  that  "  being  shot  in  the 
thigh  in  encountering  the  Sjianiards  near 
Zutphen  in  Holland,  and  parched  with 
thirst,  a  bottle  of  liquor  was  jnocured  for 
him  ;  and  just  as  Sir  Philip  was  about 
drinking  it,  a  poor  soldier  in  the  same  con- 
dition, bleeding  and  ghastly,  was  carried 
along  by  him,  and  cast  up  his  dying  eyes  at 
the  same  bottle  ;  which  Sir  Philip  perceiv- 
ing, took  it  from  his  own  mouth,  and  gave 
it  to  the  ])oor  man  with  these  words,  TJiij 
necessi/i/,  honent.  friend,  is  yet  greater  than, 
mine."  He  told  the  surgeons  when  they 
cut  him,   "  that  they  had  indeed  a  man  un- 


makes evident,  that  life  and  immortality  der  then-  hands  of  a  sensible  and  delicate 
were  known  in  ancient  times,  and  revealed  I  nature,  yet  one  to  whom  the  great  Redeem- 
in  the  ancient  Scri[)tures.  It  seems  to  me  |  er  had  given  power  above  himself,  either  to 
a  strange,  and  worse  than  an  useless  attempt  Vo  or  svjf'er  ;  and  therefore  desired  that 
to  controvert,  and  endeavour  to  overthrow  [  they  would  not  throw  a  blemish  on  their 
this  truth.  May  you,  dear  sir,  have  much  I  art,  through  over  tenderness." 
of  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  understanding,  |  His  last  words  were,  "  Love  my  memory, 
to  discover  the  truth  ;  much  of  the  spirit  of  1  cherish  my  friends  :  their  fidelity  to  me  may 
counsel  and  of  might,  to  display,  defend,  assure  you  they  are  honest ;  but  above  all, 
and  establish  the  truth,  even   the  truth  as  [govern  your  own  will  and  affections  by  the 


it   is   in   Jesus 
gratefully,  &Ci 


Yours  affectionately  and 


LETTER  CLXXXVIL 

Saturclaj/  morning. 

Demi  Sir, — I  find  by  the  papers,  that 

your  old  friend  Dr.  ,  the  physician,  is 

dead.  What  a  call  to  us  to  get  our  lamps 
trimmed,  and  our  souls  ready  for  their  exit  ! 
what  a  forcible  admonition  to  do  good  to 
immortal  souls,  while  we  have  ojjportunity  ! 
May  the  God  of  glory  be  ever  with  you, 
and  bless  you  with  all  spiritual  blessings  ! 

I  greatly  wish  that  those  iti  the  practice 
of  physic  would  study  St.  Paul  as  well  as 
Hippocrates,  and  attend  occasionally  to  the 
religious  wants  of  their  patients,  when  they 
are  consulted  as  to  their  bodily  disorders. 
This  would  be  acting  the  part  of  Christian 
physicians.  This  would  be  endeavouring 
to  copy  after  the  compassionate  Physician 
of  mankino,  who,  while  he  cured  the  body, 
ciu'cd  the  soul. 

Being  totally  and  continually  silent  at 
the  patient's  bedside,  is,  I  think,  in  some 
measure,  denying  or  being  ashamed  of  the 


will  and  word  of  your  Creator  and  Saviour; 
in  ME  beholding  the  end  of  this  world,  and 
all  its  vanities."  I  will  warrant  you,  the 
soldiers  remembered  these  words  of  their 
general ;  and  so  would  the  sick,  in  like 
manner,  long  reinember  the  words  of  their 
physician,  if  he  would  now  and  then  intro- 
duce a  few  religious  hints,  and  drop  occa- 
sionally u  striking  sentence  or  two,  with 
propriety  and  seriousness. 

"Worldly  craftiness  is  a  bad  guide;  I  wish 
you  may  have  religious  discretion  for  yours, 
as  Telemachus  had  the  discreet  Mentor,  and 
that  you  would  begin  (instead  of  paying 
court  to  the  great)  to  court  souls  for  the 
everlasting  Eiidegroom.  This  is  your  true 
interest,  and  will  avail  you  when  every 
worldly  consideration  will  be  found  ineffec- 
tual. 

As    soon  as    I    had   read   ]\Ir.  's 

letter,  I  burnt  it,  according  to  your  desire. 
Who  can  now  retrieve  the  syllables,  sen- 
tences, and  words?  Thus  are  the  sins,  all 
the  sins  of  them  that  believe  in  the  divine 
.I'esus,  done  away.  What  a  privilege  !  what 
a  blessing  !  should  not  our  souls  exulf.in  it? 
should  not  our  discourse  dwell  upon  it? 

\dieu  !   dear  sir ;   and  believe  me,  with 


great  respect,  and  hearty  wishes   for  your 
divine  Rcdetnicr,  who  bought  us  with  his  |  prebcnt  and  eternal  welfare,  yours,  S:c. 


908 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


LETTER  CLXXXVIIL 

Weston  Favell,  April  16,  1757. 

Dear  Siu, — Believe  me,  your  letters  are 
far  from  fatiguing  me  ;  they  refresh  me  even 
imder  my  greatest  weakness.  They  tell 
me  of  Jesus  which  was  cmciMed,  the  only 
cordial  for  my  drooping  soul. 

What  do  you  think  is  the  meaning  of, 
*'  But  this  sliall  be  with  burning  iuid  fuel 
of  .fire?"  Isa.  ix.  5.  Is  maclth  a  sub 
stantive  ?  I  should  rather  take  it  for  an 
adjective,  agreeii:g  with  sha.  Let  the  in- 
terf)retation  of  this  place  till  the  case  of 
your  letter. 

I  am  raised  indeed  from  my  bed,  but  not 
released  from  my  cliambcr,  after  a  violent 
fever.  The  two  preceding  Sundays  I  have 
been  enabled  to  officiate  for  myself;  and 
my  disordei'  has  left  upon  me  so  grievous  a 
cough,  as  makes  my  days,  especially  my 
nights,  become  labour  and  sorrow.  Pray, 
favour  me  with  the  continuation  of  your 
thoughts.  They  cheer  and  comfort  me  in 
my  languid  state.  The  two  sermons  were 
transcribed  before  this  sickness  seized  me. 
And,  since  I  have  your  encouragement, 
they  shall  soon  (if  my  life  is  prolonged)  be 
put  to  the  press.  I  propose  to  entitle  them. 
The  Time  of  Danger,  and  The  Way  of 
Safety.*  The  Lord  God  omnipotent  ac- 
company thern  with  bis  blessing !  Mean 
they  are,  as  the  stones  from  the  shepherd's 
sling;  but  I  remember  it  is  written,  "  They 
shall  subdue  with  sling  stones."  In  this 
word  do  I  trust,  in  this  word  do  I  comfort 
me.  May  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  himself, 
and  God  even  our  Father,  give  you,  dear 
sir,  everlasting  consolation,  for  all  the  kind- 
ness you  have  showed  to  your  truly  affec- 
tionate friend.      Yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CLXXXIX. 

Weston-Favel,  May  19,  1757. 

My  dear  Friend, — Accept  my  best 
thanks  for  your  welcome  and  valuable  letter. 
It  found  me  just  released  from  the  chamber 
of  sickness  ;  the  fever  removed,  the  cough 
abated,  but  my  strength  like  the  bruised 
reed.  And  now  my  mind  is  a  fellow-suf- 
ferer with  my  body  ;  this  being  enervated, 
that  is  enfeebled. 

However,  as  I  am  delighted  with  your 
criticisms,  give  me  leave  to  propose  another 
text  to  your  consideration,  which  puzzled 
me  much  as  I  was  reading  yesterday  ;  you 
will  tind  it  in  Zech.  xiv.  6,  7.  The  Heb- 
rew of  the  sixth  verse  seems  to  be  unconi- 
monlv  didicult. 


*  .See  these  .Scrn-K 


p.  Q3. 


A  sermon  or  two  I  am  still  inclined  to 
puuiisb.  Jn  this,  and  in  all  our  ways,  may 
the  God  of  all  wisdom  direct  us,  and  tl-.a 
God  of  all  grace  prosper  us,  through  Jesus 
Christ ! 

I  have  not  the  honour  of  Lord  D 's 

acquaintance,  but  I  hear  that  he  is  full  of 
grace,  and  valiant  for  the  truth  ;  a  lover  of 
Christ,    and  an    ornament    to    his   gospel. 

Lady   F is  alive,    and    full    of  good 

works,  and  I  hope  grows  up  in  him  in  ail 

things  who  is  the  head.     Dr.  S (whom 

you  inquire  after)  still  resides  at  N ;  is 

in  high  repute  as  a  physician,  and,  I  trust, 
does  not  forget  or  neglect  the  one  thing 
needful ;  thougli  the  world,  the  smding 
world,  is  a  syren.  Lord,  stop  our  ears 
against  its  enclianting  song,  and  let  our  eyes 
be  blind  to  its  inveigling  charms.  Mr. 
Moses  Browne  executes  his  ministry  at 
Olney  with  much  acceptance,  lam  informed, 
and  with  a  good  deal  of  success.  About 
ten  days  ago  Mr.  P took  a  family- 
dinner  with  me.  Our  conversation  turned 
partly  upon  points  of  literature,  partly  upon 
evangelical  subjects.  O  that  we  may  taste 
the  sweetness,  feel  the  energy  of  the  latter, 
and  count  all  things  as  dross  in  comparison 
of  their  transcendent  excellency  !  Is  not 
your  interpretation  of  Zech.  xiv.  6,  7. 
rather  too  forced  ?  Is  not  the  fo]lov,-ing 
somewhat  more  natural  and  easy,  if  not 
more  just? 

"  It  shall  come  to  pass  in  that  day,  there 
shall  not  be  light,"  full  and  strong,  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  gloom  of  night ;  but  now  eiful- 
gence  and  clearness  of  vision,  anon  obscu- 
rity and  dimness  of  vision  :  "  Yet  it  shall 
be  one"  real,  determinate  "  day;"  whose 
duration,  whose  properties,  and  all  whose 
circumstances,  are  known  to  the  Lord. 
Thus  much  he  hath  graciously  revealed  by 
his  prophet,  that,  duriiig  the  first  periods, 
the  morning  and  the  noon  of  this  wonder- 
ful dispensation,  it  shall  not  be  entire  day 
nor  entire  night,  but  a  mixture  or  inter- 
change of  both.  Sometimes  grace  triumph- 
ant, sometimes  sin  rebelling  in  the  hearts 
of  believers.  Sometimes  calamity  darken- 
ing, sometimes  prosperity  brightening  the 
state  of  the  church.  However,  at  the  even- 
tide, when  such  an  appearance  is  least  ex- 
pected, it  shall  be  unmixed,  prevailing,  per- 
fect light.  Then  "  the  light  of  the  moon 
shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  sun,  and  the  light 
of  the  sun  as  the  light  of  seven  days.  Then 
the  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  knowledge 
of  the  Lord,  and  his  people  shall  be  all 
righteous." 

Freely  censure,  solidly  correct  this  inter- 
pretation, if  you  think  it  improper ;  and 
give  me  leave  to  ex])ect,  according  to  your 
own  appointment,  a  monthly  letter  for  the 
comfort  and  edification  of,  dear  sir,  your 
very  affectionate  friend  and  servant,  &c. 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


SjfO 


LETTER  CXC. 

V/esfnn-FnvcU,  Aurj.  G,  1757. 

My  DEAii  Fuwin;), — I  have  been  too 
larrly  in  acknowletlgiiig  the  reci'ij)t  of  your 
letter,  whicli  was  v<'ry  valuubie,  and  de- 
served thanks  as  speedy  as  they  are  sincere. 
The  true  cause  of  my  delay  i..  i!:is  :  I  have 
been  preparing  two  or  three  serinons  for 
the  press,  which  to  iny  enervated  hand  is 
really  a  work  of  toil.  Yesterday  1  sent 
them  to  London,  and  I  hope  to  see  them  in 
print  within  the  sjjace  of  a  fortnight.  1 
])urpose  to  have  some  upon  neat  paper,  for 
the  use  of  the  gentry,  if  tJod  shall  incline 
the  hearts  of  any  sucii  persons  to  look  into 
them  ;  and  others  upon  worse  paper,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor,  and  the  cun\  eniency  of 
giving  away.  As  sodu  as  they  apjjear,  you 
will  give  me  leave  to  send  you  a  copy  ;  and 
if  you  should  like  to  give  them  among  the 
poor,  I  will  send  you  a  considerable  number. 
With  them  I  intend  to  put  into  your  hands 
a  treatise  lately  published,  under  the  title 
of  Letters  on  Theroa  and  As])asio,  in  two 
small  volumes.  The  author  is  a  Scotsman, 
I  presume,  because  they  were  printed  at 
Ediidjnrgh,  and  he  gave  orders  for  u  set  to 
be  sent  to  mc  from  Edinburgh.  He  con- 
ceals his  name,  and  none  that  1  am  acquaint- 
ed with  are  able  to  discover  whose  work  it 
is.*  There  are  some  strictures  on  my 
])erformHnce ;  bat  by  far  the  greatest  part 
of  the  book  is  very  wide  from  this  mark. 
Some  things  are  truly  excellent,  and  some 
animadveisions  ujion  me  are  j)erfectly  just ; 
but  others,  (if  1  mistake  not)  are  unfair 
und  disnigenuous.  The  manner  of  writing 
is  by  no  means  despicable,  rather  elegant 
and  spirited  than  coarse  or  dull.  But  there 
is  such  an  implacable  bitterness  of  spirit, 
and  such  an  unchristian  virulence  of  cen- 
sure, against  many  of  the  best  men  that 
ever  Lived,  and  best  authors  that  ever  wrote, 
as  much  surjjrises  and  greatly  offends  ine. 
1  think  I  never  saw  a  notion  of  faith  more 
lax,  nor  an  idea  of  grace  more  exalted,  thaii 
in  this  book.  However,  I  will  not  forestall 
your  judgment,  but  will  desire  your  accept- 
ance of  the  piece,  and  your  remarks  upon 
it. 

If  your  account  of  the  ancient  believers, 
and  their  knowledge  of  (Christ  be  right, 
then  the  opinion  of  the  generality  of  di- 
vines is  wrong :  they  suppose,  that  the 
devout  Jews  saw  in  their  sacrifices,  not 
barely  a  nobler  sacrifice  to  be  offered  up  by 
the  Saviour,  but  the  Saviour  Inmself  suf- 
fering, bleeding,  and  dying.  How  will 
you  reconcile  with  your  scheme  St.  Paid's 
declaration,    "  The   gospel    was   preached 


imto  them,"  exi)lained  by  his  definition  of 
the  gospel,  "  tjhrist  died  for  oiu-  sins?" 
Heb.  iv.  '2.  1  Cor.  xv.  3.  — You  say,  "  Does 
liCiiUAii  anywhere  signify  eilulgence  ?"  In 
Job  xxxi.  27,  you  will  find  iker  bearing 
this  signification.  Yet,  I  must  confess, 
I  am  not  thoroughly  satisfied  with  my  own 
interpretation,  it  is  too  low  and  restiicted  ; 
for  the  prophet  is  evidently  fortelling  a 
state  of  things  and  a  stock  of  knowledge 
greatly  superior  to  any  thing  enjoyed  un- 
der the  .Jewish  dispensation  ;  and  to  this 
last,  I  think  my  exposition  is  most  suita- 
ble. I  hope  you  have  a  long  letter  ready, 
and  will  not  punish  my  delay  according  to 
the  rigour  of  the  law  of  retaliation.  I  am, 
with  unfeigned  gratitude,  and  cordial  affec- 
tion, yours,  &c. 

Pray  favour  me  with  your  Bisscrtatioii 
on  Job,  his  time,  his  cotnitry,  and  religion. 
They  are  very  curious  subjects,  and  you 
will  enrich  tuem  with  evangelical  truths. 


»  The  autlior  was  Mr.  Uobt-rt  Saudeman,  a  con- 

Sregatioiial  preacher  at  Ediuburt;h,  a  disciple  of  Mr. 
ouli  Clasj. 


LETTER  CXCI. 

Weston  Favell,  Sept.  3,  1757. 

My  dear  Friend, — ilany  thanks  for 
your  last ;  I  shall  read  it,  and  read  it  again  ; 
and  the  Lord  give  me  a  right  understand- 
ing of  that  most  precious  and  important 
chapter. 

I  ho])e  you  will  accompany  my  sermons 
with  your  prayers  to  God  for  a  blessing  on 
thtm,  the  reader,  and  the  writer ;  and  I 
shall  be  tridy  thankful  for  the  communi- 
cation of  any  remarks,  corrections,  or  im- 
])rovements  that  may  occur  in  your  jjerusal 
of  them.  This,  and  any  other  of  my  writ- 
ings, I  should  be  glad  to  have  rectified 
where  they  are  wrong,  enriched  where  they 
are  impoverished  ;  because,  though  such 
improvements  may  come  too  late  to  take 
])lace  while  I  live,  they  may,  when  I  am 
dead,  be  admitted,  and  enable  me  to  speak 
more  usefully. 

What  think  you  of  the  method  taken  by 
a  modern  critic,  to  interpret  Fsalm  Ixviii. 
30  ?  "  Hoc  in  loco,  fera  arundinis,  ca'tus 
robustorum,  et  juvenci,  sunt  leoiies,  tauri, 
pecudesque  lascivientes,  sive  tyraimi  fe- 
roces  insolentesque  :  quibus,  cuutinuata 
translatione,  addit  psaltes  Kt;si.p  'liERtTZi 
methedotem'  hoc  est,"  [here  a  word  is 
wanting  in  the  original,  and  not  knowing 
what  author  is  referred  to,  we  could  not 
supi)ly  it  from  thence],  "  que  de  industria 
conculcantes  et  turbantes  argenteos  rivos, 
ardentes  nimirum  et  vastaiues  vicinorum 
.ludieorum  bona  "  The  author  queries, 
whether  "  detz"  from  detz  curreic,  may, 
consistently  with  the  propriety  of  the  He- 
brew language,  be  interpreted  a  river?  might 
he  not  also  query,  whether  meko?  is  ever. 


910 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


among  the  Hebrew  writers,  and  by  way  of 
adjective,  used  to  describe  the  colour  of 
the  waters  ?     Homer,  I  remember,  has 

But  I  am  not  certain  that  any  such  expres- 
sion gained  admittance  into  the  school  of  the 
prophets.  Your  sentiments  upon  this  cri- 
ticism will  entertain,  instruct,  and  oblige, 
dear  sir,  your  truly  aflfectionate  friend  and 
servant. 


LETTER  CXCIL 

Saturday  moniing. 

My  dear  Friend, — How  fares  it  with 
you  ?  Overwhelmed  I  find  with  business  ! 
but  still,  I  trust,  remembering  Christ  and 
eternal  ages. 

I  think  you  reason  well,  and  very  strong- 
ly, on  what  you  propose.  May  the  Wis- 
dom, from  which  nothing  is  hid,  direct 
you  in  all  your  undertakings ;  may  the 
Power,  to  which  nothing  is  impossible, 
prosper  your  prescriptions  for  my  benefit, 
and  that  of  others  !  I  assure  you  I  shall 
steadily  persevere  in  the  use  of  them,  and 
intend  to  begin  vei7  soon  ;  though  a  con- 
tinued cold,  and  an  unexpected  journey, 
have  hitherto  unfitted  me  from   taking  any 

medicines  of  this  sort.    Mr. ,  of  whom 

you  inquired  after  me  yesterday,  told  me 
you  imputed  to  the  journey  my  neglect  in 
not  having  yet  sent  your  prescription  to 
the  apothecary's  ;  and  I  am  obliged  to  your 
candour  for  ascribing  it  to  that  cause,  and 
not  to  any  disregard  of  your  advice  :  for  I 
am  persuaded, 

Si  qua  perf;nma  dextra 

Defendi  possent,  etiain  hac  defensa  fuissent. 

ViKG.  Ms  ;ll. 

I  have  just  been  reading  Gerhard's 
Christian  Support  under  all  Afilictions ; 
and  a  most  excellent  book  it  is.  If  your 
medicines  have  not  the  desired  effect,  I 
must  seek  relief  from  him  :  From  Him, 
do  I  say?  From  a  fellow- mortal?  Ah  ! 
what  are  all  the  consolations  that  all  the 
creatures  in  the  universe  can  afford,  in 
comparison  of  that  grand  consolation  of 
our  condescending  Lord's,  "  Ye  are  my 
friends!"  John  xv.  14.  "  Come  and  in- 
herit the  kingdom  prepared  for  you,"  Matt. 
xxv-  34.  ;  "  where  the  inhabitants  shall  no 
more    say,    I    am    sick,"    Isa.    xxxiii.   24  ; 

"  and  where  there   shall  be  no  more  death 

nor  sorrow,"  Rev.  xxi.  4. 

I  am,  my  dear  friend,  with  great  esteem, 

and  under  a  due  sense  of  many  obligations, 

most    aflfectionately    and    most    sincerely 

yours,  &c. 


LETTER  CXCin. 

Saturday  morning. 

My  dear  Friend, — If  you  have  any 
law  books  by  you,  I  wish  you  would  look 
into  the  indexes,  and  see  what  laws  have 
been  made  to  secure  the  Lord's  day  from 
profiuiation.  It  is  pity  that  these*  should 
be  unknown  to  the  common  people  ;  and 
still  a  greater  pity,  that  our  justices  of 
peace  should  not  exert  themselves  vigor- 
ously in  an  affair  of  such  consequence  to 
the  present  and  eternal  welfare  of  their 
fellow-creatures.  I  wish  a  spirited  pamph- 
let was  judiciously  drawn  up  and  published 
on  this  occasion  ;  setting  the  sins  of  omis- 
sion in  a  true  light-  It  grieves  me  to 
think  how  much  good  might  be  done,  es- 
pecially by  gentlemen  who  have  leisure 
and  abilities  to  plan  schemes  for  the  pub- 
lic benefit ;  but  so  far  are  they  from  apply- 
ing themselves  in  good  earnest  to  promote 
religion,  that  they  too  generally  rdicule 
or  discourage  any  attempts  of  this  kind. 
Ah  !  how  little  do  they  refiect,  that  the 
night  is  coming  on  apace,  when  no  man 
can  work,  John  ix.  4. ;  and  that  for  all 
these  things  God  will  bring  them  into 
judgment. 

Can  you  tell  me  Mho  was  the  author 
of  The  Duty  of  Reproof?  The  most 
material  objections  against  reproving  are 
there  considered ;  some  cautions  and  di- 
rections are  added,  and  in  such  a  manner 
as  may  facilitate  the  successful  discharge 
of  this  duty.  A  duty  too  much  neglected, 
though  enjoined  us  by  no  less  authority 
than  the  Scripture  itself,  which  is  profita- 
ble for  reproof.  "  Reprove  one  that  hath 
understanding,"   says    Solomon,    "  and  he 


*  All  persons,  who  profane  the  Lord's  day,  are 
liable  to  the  following  penalties ;  and  it  is  much 
wished  that  the  magistrates  would  determine  to  put 
these  laws  in  execution  with  the  utmost  strictness. 


By  doing  'or  executing 
any  business  or  work  of 
their  ordinary  callings 
on  the  Lord's  day,  or 
any  part  thereof, 
(works  of  necessity  and  ; 
charity  only  excepted) ;  "j 
under  which  head  is  in- 
cluded shaving  on  Sun- 
days, which  is  a  most 
sliameful  and  notorious 
custom. 

By  public  crying,  or 
posing     to     sale 
wares.merchandize, 

By  idling,  or  wandering  ( 

in    time  of  divine  ser-s 

vice.  I. 

( 

Alehouse  keepers,  vhit-  | 
ners,  innkeepers,  per-  I 
mitting  tippling  in  j 
their  houses. 


By  the  20th  Car.  IL  cap. 
7,  persons  convict  here- 
of l)y  view  of  a  justice 
of  the  peace,  confession 
of  the  party,  or  wit- 
nesses, are  to  pay  five 
shillings,  or  be  put  in 
the  stocks  f.vo  hours . 
licensed  houses  besides 
forfeit  their  licenses. 

By  the  same  act  it  is  for- 
feiture of  goods  so  ex- 
posed to  sale. 

By  the  same  acts,  ."Js.  or 
stocks  two  hours. 

By  1st  Jac.  I.  cap.  9.  if 
convict  of  such  per- 
mission, are  to  pay  10s. 
and  if  convict  of  drun- 
kenness, disabled  to 
keep  an  alehouse,  for 
three  years,  by  21bt 
Jac.  \.  cap.  7. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


911 


will  understaml  kiio\\lecl<;(>/'  Prov-  xix.  25. 
And  tin-  ajjostlo  Paul  urges  Tiiiiotliy  to 
"  reprove,  rebuke,  and  exhort,  with  all 
loug-siiirering  and  doctrine,"  2  Tim.  iv.  2. 
Indeed,  my  dear  I'riend,  you  are  very  de- 
ficient in  tliis  duty  of  reproof,  though  you 
have  so  many  opportunites  of  doing  it  with 
the  utmost  propriety.  Pray  read  this  lit- 
tle panipldet  over  and  over  again.  Weigh 
it  thoioughly.  You  will  then,  through  the 
grai;e  of  God,  be  zealous  in  reproving 
others,  and  will  readily  pardon  the  free- 
dom I  have  occasionally  taken  in  reproving 
you  whom  I  so  much  love  and  ralue.  You 
remeuiber  Sir  George  Lyttleton's  lines, 

Sdnie  merit's  niiue  to  dare  to  be  sincere. 
But  greater  your's  sincerity  to  bear. 

Dr.  Sherlock's  Defence  and  continuation 
of  his  discourse  concerning  the  knowledge 
of  Jesus  Christ,  and  our  union  and  commu- 
nion with  him,  was  put  into  my  hands  the 
other  day  ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  it  is  far 
from  being  a  satisfactory  defence.  Anti- 
sozzo*  is  an  unanswerable  book ;  <ind  Dr. 
Sherlock  never  was  so  gravelled  in  all  his 
life  as  he  was  by  the  publication  of  that 
witty,  keen,  and  solid  performance. 

Do  you  know  any  one  who  has  got 
Schmidius's  Greek  Concordance  to  the 
Greek  Testament  ?  I  am  told  it  is  well 
executed,  and  it  must  be  very  serviceable,  as 
it  shows  at  one  view  in  what  sense  the  same 
word  is  used  in  diiierent  passages.  I  will 
buy  it,  but  should  be  glad  to  see  it  first,  if 
you  can  borrow  it  for  me. 

Jiishop  Patrick  on  Contentment  and  Re- 
signation, I  here  return  you ;  as  likewise 
Dr.  Barrow  on  the  same  subject. 

Baxter  on  Universal  and  Special  Re- 
demption I  must  beg  to  keepalittle  longer, 
especially  as  you  tell  me  your  sentiments 
and  his  are   nearly  the  same.      Our  friend 

Mr. highly  esteems  this  book  ;  and  he 

has  sent  me  Baxter's  Aphorisms  on  Justifi- 
cation, which  he  has  desired  me,  as  they 
are  explanatory  of  each  other,  to  read  at  the 
same  time.  Baxter  in  these  pieces,  he  tells 
me,  steers  a  middle  course  between  the 
Scylla  of  Arminius's  system  and  the  Cha- 
rybdis  of  Calvin's.  When  I  have  read  them 
with  due  attention,  I  shall,  without  re- 
serve, conununicate  my  remarks  to  you. 

Oh  !  my  dear  friend,  what  need  have  we 
for  prayer  to  be  -guided  aright  amidst  so 
many  different  opinions,  e\en  of  good  and 
great  men.  Arminius,  Calvin,  Baxter,  all 
excellent  men  in  their  way,  yet  how  divided 
in  their  notions! 


all  our  determinations  !  God,  of  his  infi- 
nite mercy,  defend  us  from  all  error,  and 
grant  that  we  may  be  true  followers  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour,  who  is  "  a  light  to 
lighten  the  Gentiles,  and  the  glorv  of  Is- 
rael !"  What  a  comfortable  consideration 
is  it,  that  there  is  such  a  light  for  my  dear 
friend,  and  for  his,  most  affectionately  and 
most  inviolably,  &c. 


LETTER  CXCIV. 

Wednesdai/  morning. 
My  dkar  FiHEND, — I  thank  you  for  re- 
membering me  before  the  throne  of  grace. 
Let  your  [)rayers  be  for  my  cheerful  resig- 
nation to  the  divine  good  pleasure,  and  for 
clear  manifestations  to  me  of  Jesus  Christ. 
My  life  has  long  been  a  burden  to  myself, 
and  is  now  become  unprofitable  to  others. 
Your  intention  to  visit  me  is  kind  ;  but  I 
am  not  fit  for  company,  unable  either  to 
carry  on  or  relish  conversation  ;  best  when 
alone ;  therefore  do  not  give  yourself  the 
trouble  of  coming  ten  miles.  I  accept  the 
will  for  the  deed.  As  to  your  translation 
of  Zimmcrmannus  De  eminentia  coynitionis 
Christi,  1  will,  if  my  languid  spirits  caji  bear 
the  task,  carefully  read  it  over,  which  I  have 
never  been  able  to  do  since  I  saw  you  ia 

London.  IlentittoMr. .  When  he  has 

done  with  it,  desire  him  to  convey  it  to  me  ; 
you  shall  then  have  (if  the  Lord  will)  the 
result  of  my  renewed  perusal  of  that  piece, 
which  I  formerly  was  so  desirous  of  having 
translated  by  you.  May  the  Lord  of  all 
power  make  you  strong  to  labour  in  his  sa- 
cred service,  and  crown  your  labours  with 
abundant  success.  I  am  your  truly  affec- 
tionate brother  in  Christ,  &ic. 


LETTER  CXCV. 

Saturday  morjung. 

]\Iy  dear  Friend, — I  have  no  heart  to 
take  any  medicirtes.  All  but  Christ  is  to 
me  unprofitable  :  blessed  be  God  for  pardon 
and  salvation  through  his  blood.  Let  me 
prescribe  this  cordial  for  my  dear  friend. 

J\Iay  your  health  be  renewed  as  the 
eagle's,  though  mine  has  long  been  fading 
as  a  leaf !  and  may  we  both  liom  oiu-  hearts 


adore  the  disjjensations  of  our  God  and  Sa- 
But  Jesus,  that  eternal  i  viour,  which,  though  to  us-ward  very  diffe- 
source  of  love,  will,  I  would  charitably  i  rent,  are  in  all  respects  very  good, 
hope,  bless  all  who  sincerely  desire  to  mag-  We  were  drinking  tea  yesterday  ;  and  I 
iiify  his  holy  name,  notwithstanding  their  j  heard  one  of  the  company  say,  to  whom 
ditterent   aj)prehensions    on    these    points.  I  you  had  given  Bishop  Wilson  on  the  Sacra- 


God,  of  his  unerring  wisdom,  iissist  us  in' 


*  SficLetter  CCVII. 


nent.  This  is  Dr.  S 's  gift.      Oh  that 

God  may  give  him  to  eat  the  tlesh  and  drink 
the  blood  of  Christ !  ancl  to  live  by  faith  au 


ei2 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LEXrERr 


tlie  unsearchable  riches  of  a  Redeemer ! 
Then  we  slutll,  ere  long,  eat  bread  and  drink 
new  wine  together  in  the  kingdom  of  our 
Father. 

I  have  not  yet  wrote  to  Biddeford  ;  but 
the  affair  you  desii-ed  me  to  inquire  about 
shall  not  be  forgot  when  I  next  write  thi- 
ther. Can  you  exeuse  my  dilatory  proceed- 
ing? Business,  to  my  languid  spirits,  is 
like  the  son.'  of  Anak  (Numb.  xiii.  28,)  to 
the  Israelitish  spies,  so  forbidding  and  so 
formidable. 

The  reasons  you  nrgeij  I  have  consider- 
ed ;  I  really  know  not  how  to  act.  IVIay 
the  unerring  Cod  vouchsafe  to  guide  a  j'oor 
shiner !  ISow,  where  is  my  faith  in  that 
divine  promise,  "  In  all  thy  ways  acknow- 
ledge him,  and  he  shall  diicct  thy  paths  ?" 
It  is  scarcely  so  much  as  a  grain  of  the 
smallest  seed  :  Blessed  Je&us,  increase  it  in 
us  both  ! 

Do  you,  as  you  formerly  did,  commit 
your  way  unto  the  Lord,  and  iieseech  him 
to  bring  it  to  pass  ?  My  dear  friend,  let 
us  look  more  unto  God,  for  we  have  a 
Friend  in  the  court  of  Heaven  ;  we  h.-ive 
an  Advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ 
the  rigbtecus.  Ever  and  inviolably  youis, 
&c. 


LETTER  CXCVL 

Wtston-FaveU,  Jan.  3,  175S. 

i)£AR  Mil.  ,     I  received  your  wel- 

rorae  valuable  letter  in  due  time  ;  but  al- 
most as  soon  as  1  received  it  I  was  seized 
with  a  violent  illness,— so  violent,  that  the 
current  report  was,  "  Idervey  is  dead." 
Near  to  death  I  certainly  was  :  and  God 
Almighty  knows  1  am,  according  to  human 
appearance,  not  far*  from  it  even  now  ;  but 
pray  let  me,  if  I  live,  expect  the  continua- 
tion of  your  remarks.  Your  letters  are  such 
as  I  should  delight  to  I'ead  even  in  my  last 
moments. 

I  wish  you  many  a  happy  new  year  on 
earth,  and  at  the  last  an  abundant  entrimce 
into  the  New  .Jerusalem,  where  the  voice 
of  joy  and  health  is  perpetually  heiird. 

Weak  1  am,  very  weak,  and  much  out  of 
order  ;  insomuch  that  I  have  not  been  alile 
to  go  to  church  ever  since  Christinas.  But 
your  writings  refresh  and  delight,  instead  of 
fatiguing  me  !  Your  fointh  paragraph  has 
most  exactly  stated  the  difference  which 
subsists  between  yourself  and  Aspasio  re- 
lating to  faith.  The  forbearance  and  can- 
dour with  which  you  treat  this  difference 
does  not  give  up  a  jot  or  tittle  of  your  own 
opuiion,  yet  it  tends  very  much  to  concihate 
favour  and  esteem  in  its  behalf. 

Your   Vision   is  very  grand,    and    quite 


»  Mr.  Ilervey  died  tht  Dcccmuer  following. 


Striking:  I  love  such  strokes  of  imagina- 
tion, they  keep  attention  awake,  and  im- 
part pleasure  together  with  jn'ofit.  Asji;i- 
sio  is  doubly  obliged  to  your  j)en,  formerly 
for  correcting,  now  for  defending  his  work. 
You  observe.  My  enemy  is  yours.  He  h<;.<} 
attacked  your  generous  vindication.  In  re- 
ply to  this  attack  jou  have  spoke  iny  very 
sentiments.* 

Mr.  Wesley,  you  will  find,  is  ai;gry  with 
me  on  the  opjiosite  score,  for  .^j'eakirrg  too 
n:uch.  and,  as  he  thinks,  too  opci.'ly  on  the 
side  of  election  and  particular  rtocnjitioM. 
Pray  favour  me  with  your  free  (,•])! iiion, 
and  wherever  ycu  think  he  charges  ine 
justly,  or  I  have  expressed  myself  impro- 
perly, spare  nor  to  speak  the  naked  truth. 
He  has  lately  published  a  large  book,  jjrice 
six  shillings  stitched,  on  the  doctrine  of 
Original  Sin  ;  great  i)art  of  which  is  an 
abridgment  of  Dr.  \V'atts'  Ruin  and  Re- 
covery, and  of  another  treatise  wrote  by 
Mr.  Hebden,  In  this  he  takes  occasion 
to  quote  two  or  three  passages  from  Thercn 
and  Aspasio,  one  from  Volume  II.  which 
he  thus  introduces :  "  To  explain  this  a 
little  farther  in  Mr.  Hervey's  M'ords,  By 
foederai  head  I  mean,  what  the  a])ostle 
teaches,  &c.  That  as  Adam  was  the  first 
general  representative  (of  ////y  /ihid,  says 
Aspasio,  but  I\lr.  Wesley  makes  him  say) 
of  mankind,  Christ  was,"  &c.  "  Far  from 
resting  upon  a  single  text,'  (kc.  he  goes  on 
to  the  bottom  of  the  page,  then  turning 
back  to  the  upper  jnirt,  represents  me  as 
forming  a  conclusion  in  these  words :  "  All 
these  expressions  demonstrate,  that  Adam 
(as  well  as  Christ)  was  a  representative  of 
all  manhind ;  and  tliat  what  he  did  in  this 
capacity,  did  not  terminate  in  himself,  but 
affected  all  whom  he  rcjiresented."  This 
is  a  veiy  injurious  rejirescntation.  One  sen- 
tence is  a  palpable  miscpiotation.t  Would 
it  be  ])roper  to  take  any  notice  of  it?  I 
am  sometimes  apprehensive  that  he  would 
draw  me  into  a  dispute  about  particular  re- 
dcmiition.  1  know  he  can  say  startling 
and  horrid  things  on  this  subject ;  and  this, 
j)eihaps,  might  be  the  most  elitctual  method 
to  prejudice  people  against  my  principal 
point.  I  am,  dear  sir,  with  much  gratitude 
and  true  aflection,  yours  in  Christ. 


LETTER  CXCVIL 

Wcston-Favell,  June  23,  1758. 
My  dear    Fkiend, — I    little    though 
when  I  put  Mr.  Wesley's  manuscript  into 


•  This  refers  to  the  remarks  (made  by  the  gentle- 
man to  whom  Mr.  Hervey  )icre  writes)  on  the  .scotch 
a\ithor  (Mr.  Saiideman)  who  wrote  the  Letters  on 
Tlieron  and  .Aspasio. 

I  L-ec  Aipasio  Vindicated,  p.  485,  Lett.  2. 


A  COLLECTION   OF  LETTERS. 


01:} 


youv  liand,  tliut  I  should  see  it  in  print  so 
soon.  1  took  very  little  notice  of  it,  and 
let  it  lie  by  mo  several  months,  without 
giving  it  an  attentive  consideration.  It 
sotMiicd  to  me  so  palpably  weak,  dealing 
only  in  positive  assertions  and  positive  de- 
nials, that  I  could  not  imagine  he  would 
adventure  it  into  the  world  without  very 
great  alterations.  But  it  is  now  come 
abroad,  just  as  you  received  it,  in  a  two 
shillings  pamphlet,  entitled,  A  Preservative 
from  Unsettled  Notions  in  Religion.  Of 
this  pamphlet,  what  lie  has  wrote  against 
me  makes  only  a  small  jjart.  Now  then 
the  question  is.  Whether  I  shall  attem])t 
to  answer  if  ?  Give  me  your  opinion,  as 
you  have  given  me  your  assistance;  and 
may  the  Father  of  mercies  give  you  an  in- 
crease of  knowledife  and  utterance,  of  peace 
and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  Ill  I  have 
been,  and  ill  I  am  ;  torn  almost  to  pieces 
by  a  cough  in  the  night,  Avhicli  admits  of 
no  remedy  ;  whatever  is  taken  to  assuage, 
exasperates  it.  Of  all  men  living,  that  ai-e 
not  ab.solutely  confined,  surely  I  am  the 
weakest.  If  by  such  weakness  the  Lord 
Jesus  will  vouchsafe  to  glorify  his  name, 
how  trans]«aent,  how  eflulgent  will  be  the 
glory  of  his  power  !      I  have  not  seen  Mr. 

P this  many  a  day,  no,  nor  this  many 

a  month  ;  how  I  fear  lest  the  world  has 
beguiled  him  !  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  lor 
setting  our  affections  on  a  happier  state  ; 
blessed  be  his  grace,  for  giving  us  some 
knowledge  of  Jesus,  as  the  way  to  immor- 
tal mansions  !  There  we  may  be  citizens, 
here  only  sojourners.  I  am,  with  true  gra- 
titude, and  sincere  affection,  yours  in  Christ 
Je-sus. 


LETTER  CXCVin. 

Vreslon-Favell,  Feb.  22.  I7o8. 

]\rAi).\M, — I  received  the  favour  of  your 
letter,  and  found  no  small  pleasure  in  per- 
using its  contents.  It  gave  me  a  singular 
sati-:faction  to  see  a  lady  of  such  fine  sense, 
and  in  the  very  blooui  of  life,  mindful  of 
the  things  which  belong  to  her  eternal 
peace.  May  this  happy  disposition  increase 
with  your  increasing  years  !  and  it  will  be 
tlie  greatest  blessing  that  you  can  enjoy, 
or  your  correspondent  wish. 

If  my  writings  have  afforded  you  any 
entertainment,  or  been  the  means  of  ad- 
ministering the  least  improvement,  I  desire 
to  adore  and  bless  the  all-gracious  (iod  : 
For  he,  madam,  teaches  to  ])rofit ;  his  Sjiirit 
foinmand<",  success  ;  and  all  our  good  comes 
wholly  from  his  heavenly  benediction. 

1  am  j)lensed  to  find  this,  among  your 
Other  valuable  expressions :  "  1  want  to 
have    ail     those,    heavenly,    consolations." 


You  consider  religion  in  a  right  view.  It 
is  not  a  vexatious  burden,  or  an  irksome 
task  ;  but  it  is  intended  to  be  the  comfort 
of  our  lives,  and  the  joy  of  our  hearts.  God 
is  the  (u)d  of  all  comfort,  Christ  is  styled 
"  the  Consolation  of  Israel,"  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  is  called  "  the  Comforter."  The 
gospel  is  the  niost  comfortable  report  ima- 
ginable :  It  is  glad  tidings,  and  the  joyful 
sound  :  It  assures  poor  sinners,  that  God 
has  laid  all  tiieir  iniquities,  both  great  and 
small,  on  his  beloved  Son  ;  that  Jesus 
Christ  has  brought  in  a  most  perfect  and 
everlasting  righteousness,  whereby  they  may 
be  justified ;  and  that  our  lir^t,  our  great, 
our  leading  duty  is,  to  believe  all  this  in 
our  own  behalf,  for  our  own  benefit 

13y  the  comfort  and  peace  resulting  from 
these  blessings,  it  would  win  our  hearts  to 
love  the  God  who  is  so  immeiisely  amiable 
and  gracious  to  us  ;  to  be  studious  of  doing 
his  pleasure,  who  has  made  such  unspeaka- 
bly rich  provision  for  our  happiness.  The 
apostle  prays  for  his  Thessalonian  converts, 
that  the  Father  of  everlasting  compassions 
would  first  comfort  their  hearts,  and  then, 
and  thereby,  establish  them  in  every  good 
word  and  work. 

I  should  make  no  scruple  to  send  my 
fast  sermon  for  your  perusal,  if  I  had  one. 
But  it  has  pleased  the  divine  Providence 
to  visit  me  with  a  violent  fever,  which  has 
confined  me  for  many  weeks.  I  am  still 
the  prisoner  of  tins  disease,  so  that  I  was 
incapable  of  going  abroad  on  the  fast-day. 
And  indeed,  if  it  had  been  otherwise,  I 
should  scarcely  have  been  able  to  gratify 
my  own  inclination,  by  complying  with  your 
hints  ;  because  1  never  write  my  sermons, 
having  accustomed  myself  to  preach  with- 
out liotes  ;  and  it  was  owing  to  a  particulai 
incident,  that  tiiose  three  discourses  which 
I  published  were  committed  to  writing.      - 

Permit  me,  madam,  to  wish,  that  you 
may  bo  steadfiist  and  immoveable  in  your 
present  turn  of  mind,  vvhicii  is  so  truly  wise 
and  noble;  that  by  him  who  sitteth  in  hea- 
ven, and  beholds  all  the  children  of  men, 
it  may  be  said  of  J\Iiss ,  as  it  was  for- 
merly SMid  of  another  excellent  person 
"  Mary  has  chosen  that  good  part  which 
shall  not  be  taken  from  her." 

To  these  wishes,  allow  me  the  additional 
pleasure  of  being,  madam,  your  most  obe- 
dient humble  servant,  &c. 


LETTER  CXCIX. 

Weston-Favell,  March  4,  1 758. 

Deaii  Mit.  ■ ,    I  have  a  long  letter, 

containing  two  or  three  sheets,   from  Air. 

Wesley.      It  consists  of  animadversions  on 

mv  Dialogues  and  Letters,  which  1  should 

3  N 


914 

be  glad  if  you  would  peruse,  and  favour  me 
with  your  opinion.  He  wrote  ine  one  be- 
fore, more  stinging  and  sarcastic  than  this. 
I  have  taken  no  notice  of  either,  being  very 
unwilling  to  embark  in  controversy  ;  but  for 
your  judgment  on  the  last,  which  is  written 
with  candour  and  temper,  I  should  be  much 
obliged,  and  have  an  additional  reason  to 
be,  dear  sir,  your  affectionate  friend,  &c. 


LETTER  CC 


Weston- Favell,  March  11.  1758. 

Madam, — I  am  much  obliged  for  your 
benevolent  wishes  relating  to  my  health. 
By  way  of  return,  permit  me  to  wish, 
that  your  soul  may  prosper,  may  flou- 
rish, may  blossom  as  a  rose  ;  that  you  may 
grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  kno\;iedge  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

From  this  passage  we  may  observe,  that 
the  way  to  advance  in  true  holiness  of  heart 
and  life,  is  to  advance  in  the  knowledge  of 
Christ.  It  is  for  want  of  knowing  Christ, 
that  the  generality  of  mankind  are  so  capti- 
vated by  trifles,  and  enslaved  to  transient 
gratifications  :  It  is  for  want  of  knowing 
Christ  more  thoroughly,  that  many  Chris- 
tians have  so  little  peace  and  joy,  and  many 
go  mournfully  in  their  way  to  eternity. 

"  By  his  knowledge  shall  my  righteous 
servant  justify  many."  By  giving  them  the 
knowledge  of  himself,  of  his  divine  dignity 
and  inestimably  precious  work — of  that 
grand  price  which  he  paid  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  sinners,  which  delivers  them  from 
the  wrath  to  come,  and  entitles  them  to 
the  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and 
that  fadeth  not  away." 

"  The  divine  power,"  says  St.  Peter, 
"  has  given  us  all  things  pertaining  to  life 
and  godliness."  How  ?  "  Through  the 
knowledge  of  him  who  has  called  us  to  glory 
and  virtue ;"  through  the  knowledge  of 
Christ,  as  calliiig  us  to  the  enjoyment  of 
eternal  glory,  which  he  has  procured  for  us 
by  his  blood ;  and  thereby  most  sweetly 
leading  and  engaging  us  to  the  exercise  of 
every  virtue. 

I  hope  Marshall  on  Sanctification  will  be 
blessed  to  your  consolation  and  edification. 
If  it  is  not  at  the  first  reading,  it  may  at  the 
second,  or  it  may  at  the  third.  I  would  say 
to  the  reader  of  this  excellent  treatise,  as 
the  prophet  Elijah  said  to  his  servant,  who 
went  to  the  sea  in  order  to  make  observa- 
tion, but  found  nothing  worthy  of  notice, 
*'  Go  again,  seven  times." 

I  have  seen  Ur.  Glynn's  poem,  entitled. 
The  Day  of  .Judgment.  It  is  not  without 
elegance  and  beauty,  but  it  wants  that  ener- 
gy and  pathos,  which,  on  so  grand  and  in- 
teresting an  occasion,  should  alarm,  trans- 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 

port,  and  awe  our  souls  ;  but  its  chief  de- 
ficiency, in  my  opinion  is,  that  it  neglects 
to  ascribe  proper  honour  unto  Christ.  He 
is  indeed  very  slightly  hinted  at  in  one  cho- 
sen line,  but  he  should  have  made  the  most 
distinguished  figure  throughout  the  whole 
piece.  All  judgment  is  committed  to  him. 
It  is  Christ  who  will  come  in  the  clouds  .of 
heaven ;  we  must  all  appear  before  the 
judgment-seat  of  Christ.  This  to  the  be- 
liever is  a  most  comfortable  and  delightful 
consideration ;  "  My  Redeemer  is  my 
Judge.  He  who  died  for  me  passes  the 
final  sentence.  Look  how  great  is  his  ma- 
jesty  and  glory  !  So  gi-eat  is  my  atonement 
and  propitiation." 

should  I  ever  come  to  London,  I  will  be 
sure  to  do  myself  the  pleasure  of  waiting 

upon  I\liss In  the  mean  time,  what 

she  mentions  by  way  of  caution,  shall  be 
observed  with  all  punctuality  due  to  a  com- 
mand, by  her  most  obedient  humble  servant. 


LETTER  CCI. 

Westoji-Favell,  May  18,  1758. 

Madam, — I  have  too  long  delayed  to  ac- 
knowledge the  favour  of  your  last.  The 
reflection  gives  me  uneasiness,  but  the  oc- 
casion gives  you  an  opportunity  of  exercis- 
ing indulgence.  If  you  please  to  ascribe 
my  silence  to  much  business,  and  little 
health,  you  will  do  justice  to  my  proceeding 
and  to  your  own  candour. 

You  inquire  after  the  best  week's  prepa- 
ration for  the  sacrament.  I  cannot  say  that 
I  much  admire  any  of  those  books.  They- 
are,  1  think,  loose,  rambling,  indistinct  com- 
panions :  they  tend  rather  to  bewilder  than 
inform  the  judgment.  For  my  own  part,  I 
prefer  the  little  account  of  this  ordinance  in 
Mr.  Marshall  on  Sanctification,  to  all  those 
prolix  treatises.  It  begins  page  298  of  the 
sixth  edition,  to  which  I  wrote  a  recom- 
mendatory preface. 

If  you  should  want  a  collection  of  prayers 
suited  to  this  solemnity,  or  to  any  other  oc- 
casion, there  is  none,  in  my  opinion,  better 
than  Mr.  Jenks's  Offices  of  Devotion, 
(which  has  passed  thirteen  editions.)  I 
should  far  sooner  choose  to  read  his  two  vo- 
lumes of  IMeditations,  than  the  New  Whole 
Duty  of  Man.  Jenks  has  written  another 
little  treatise  excellently  good,  and  truly 
evangelical ;  it  is  entitled,  Submission  to 
the  righteousness  of  God.  It  was  one  of 
the  first  books  that  gave  me  an  insight  into 
the  truth  of  the  gospel ;  or  the  way  of  sal- 
vation by  the  infinitely  glorious  obedience 
of  our  surety,  Jesus  Christ. 

The  word  Amen  has  two  significations. 
It  denotes  an  ardent  wish, — Lord,  let  it  be 
according  to  my  humble  petition.     It  de- 


A   COLLECTION  OF  LETTEUS. 


Sll.i 


/notes  likewise  a  firm  faith, — Lord,  I  am 
persuaded  that  thou  wilt  fulfil  thy  promise 
to  p:rant  my  petition. 

If  you  love  entertainment,  my  next  shall 
recommend  a  book,  that  is  as  entertaining 
as  a  novel*  or  a  phiy,  yet  edifying  as  a  ser- 
mon. I  believe,  madam,  you  would  have  no 
reason  to  repent  of  the  purchase,  if  you  was 
to  buy  Mr.  Boston's  Human  Nature  in  its 
I'ourfold  State ;  of  which,  as  I  have  given 
a  character  in  the  second  volume  of  Theron 
and  Aspasio,  I  need  not  say  any  thing  more 
in  this  jjlace. 

As  (Jod  is  sending  forth  his  word,  and 
renewing  the  face  of  material  nature;  so 
may  he  send  lorth  his  blessed  Spirit,  and  re- 
veal Christ,  and  renew  the  state  of  our 
souls  !  This  will  make  us  to  differ  from 
our  former  selves,  as  much  as  the  j)reseiit 
bloom  and  verdure  of  the  creation  differ 
from  the  rugged  desolations  of  the  winter. 

I  wish  you,  madam,  the  continual  pre- 
sence of  this  divine  Comforter,  and  am  your 
most  obedient  humble  servant,  &c. 


LETTER  CCn. 

Wc'^ton-Favell,  Aug.  5,  1758. 

Dear  Sir, —  Herewith  I  send  two  other 
sheets  of  my  intended  work.  Be  so  good 
as  to  examine  them  with  rigour,  and  correct 
them  with  freedom. 

I  am  afraid  lest  the  weakness  of  the  ad- 
vocate should  injure  the  blessed  cause.  I 
am  the  more  solicitous,  because  the  unex- 
pected acceptance  of  my  fast  sermons  will 
probably  open  a  pretty  wide  door  of  admis- 
sion for  this  piece.  Besides  six  thousand 
printed  in  London,  an  edition  was  printed 
in  Scotland,  which  was  speedily  sold  off; 
and  I  was  desired,  ])y  a  society  established 
for  giving  away  religious  books  among  the 
poor,  to  grant  them  leave  to  print  an  im- 
pression for  this  purpose.  In  Ireland  they 
have  been  printed  ;  into  Dutch  they  are 
franslated  ;  and  a  letter  received  last  week 
trom  some  ])ious  and  ingenious  stranger  in 
America,  informs  me,  that  they  have  been 
reprinted  there,  and  found  much  accep- 
tance :  all  this  will  be  a  kind  of  recommen- 
datory preface  to  this  projected  piece.  The 
good  Lord  grant  1  may  speak  and  write 
sound  words,  such  as  cannot  be  reproved  ! 
My  prayer  is,  that  you  may  be  of  quick  un- 
derstanding in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  always 
and  on  all  occasions,  and  more  especially 
when  you  are  sifting  and  improving  the 
writings  of,  dear  sir,  your  truly  affectionate 
and  much  obliged  friend. 


*  The  book  here  meant  is  De  Foe's  Family  In- 
•trcctor. 


LETTER  CCIIL 

Weston-Favell,  Sept.  4,  1758. 

Madam, — Be  so  good  as  to  present  my 
very  affectionate  compliments  to  your  excel- 
lent friend  Mr.  Kennedy.  Inform  him  that 
my  intended  work  has  for  a  long  season,  on 
account  of  my  great  infirmities,  been  like 
the  sun  in  Gibeon,  and  like  the  moon  in 
the  valley  of  Ajalon.  I  shall  be  particu- 
larly pleased  and  thankful  to  receive  his 
thoughts  on  that  important  subject,  the  as- 
surance of  faith.  Mine  are  much  the  same 
as  Mr.  Ebenezer  Erskine's,  in  his  valuable 
sermons,  and  as  Mr.  Boston's,  in  his  most 
judicious  notes  on  the  Marrow  of  ilodem 
Divinity. 

Pray,  madam,  favour  me  with  a  long 
extract  from  Mr.  Kennedy's*  letter:  I  do 
assure  you,  I  admire  his  writings  ;  they  have 
a  beauty  which  is  quite  natural  and  artless  ; 
joined  with  a  piety  which  is  very  affecting 
and  edifying. 

A  book  has  lately  appeared,  in  two  small 
volumes,  entitled,  Letters  on  Theron  and 
Aspasio.  I  cannot  say  I  would  recommend 
it  to  your  perusal,  but  I  should  be  glad  if 
you  would  mention  it  in  some  conversation 
with  your  learned  and  devout  visitants,  in 
order  to  know  their  opinion.  For  my  own 
part,  I  can  hardly  tell  what  opinion  to 
form.  The  author  conceals  his  name ;  f 
and  it  seems  difficult  to  discover  his  prin- 
ciples or  his  aim.  Some  things  are  excel- 
lent, written  with  spirit,  and  in  a  strain 
truly  evangelical ;  in  some  things  I  stand 
con-ected  by  him,  I  kiss  the  rod,  and  far 
from  being  displeased,  am  thankful  for  his 
animadversions  ;  though  in  some  instances 
he  has  acted  a  disingenuous  part ;  not  con- 
sulting the  most  correct  edition  of  my  book, 
not  adverting  to  my  own  explanation  of  my 
meaning,  and  making  me  approve  the  whole 
of  a  person's  works  where  I  only  commend 
some  particular  part.  But  what  gives  me  the 
greatest  disgust,  and  will,  I  believe,  offend 
every  ca?idid  reader,  is  a  bitter  vein  of  con- 
tempt and  invective  against  some  of  the 
best  men  that  ever  lived,  and  some  of  the 
best  a\ithors  that  ever  wrote.  I  once 
thought  the  apostle  James's  question  im- 
plied an  impossibility ;  but  it  seems  to  be 
reduced  to  real  fact  by  the  pen  of  this  critic, 
and  in  the  Letters  on  Theron  and  Asjiasio, 
where  the  "  fountain  sends  forth"  at  the 
same  place,  in  the  same  performance, 
"  sweet  water  and  bitter."  J 

I  hope  you  will  not  a<-t  with  Mr.  Ken- 
nedy according  to  the  exact  rules  of  retaJia- 


•  Mr.  Keimedy,  whom  Mr.  Hervey  so  hijrhly  and 
justly  respected,  was  minister  of  the  Scots  church  in 
liotterdam,  formerly  minister  at  Cavers  in  i>cotland. 

t  See  I.ettpr  CXC. 

X  Hee  ScriMom  aud  Tracts,  p.  fi74,  note. 


916 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


tion  ;  but  though  he  has  been  slow  to  ^^Tite,  [  scriptural  to  speak  of  the  '•'  righteousness 
you  will  be  swift  to  answer,  that  he  may  J  of  Christ  being  imputed  to  us  ;"  it  is  liable 
the    more    speedily    improve    and    delight   to  ^eat  abuse,  and  it  is  not  easily  under- 


yourself,   madam,  and   your   very   humble 
servant, 


LETTER  CCIV. 


stood  :  nor  am  I  satisfied  to  use  it,  not- 
withstanding all  you  have  said  in  its  de- 
fence, and  all  that  so  judicious  and  excel- 
lent a  man  as  Dr.  Doddridge  (in  his  ser- 
mons on  Salvation  by  Grace)  has  said  to 
explain  it.  I  fall  in,  however,  with  Wither- 
spoon's  sentiments,  though  I  do  not  use  bis 
Friday  nipht.  i  particular  phrases  :  and  you  will  observe, 
Deau  Sir, — I  have  sent  you  the  follow-  he  often  intermixes  others  to  the  same 
in?  letter  for  your  inspection,  and  shall  purpose:  as,  page  17,  the  Saviour's  merit, 
make  no  remarks  on  it  myself,  lest  I  mis-  [  Page  21,  vicarious  sufferings.  Acceptance 
lead  your  judgment.  The  gentleman  who  of  the  gospel,  page  "2.3.  Doctrijie  of  Christ 
wrote  it  means  well,  and  is  desirous  of  pro-  I  crucified,  his  atonement,  page  29.  Flying 
moting  the  interest  of  the  gospel  in  the  to  the  propitiation  of  Christ,  page  36  ;  the 
way  which  he  apprehends  to  be  right ;  but  doctrine  of  Christ's  mediation,  &c.  &c.  By 
he  thinks  differently  from  you  and  me,  not  these  it  appears,  that  it  is  not  the  phrase, 
only  in  his  notions  of  imputed  righteous-  but  the  thing,  justification  by  Christ  alone, 
ress,  but  of  other  evangelical  peculiarities,  on  which  he  lays  the  stress,  (see  page  70, 
I  have  transcribed  his  letter,  and  concealed  line  47,)  and  his  arguments  will  be  equally 
his  name,  that  you  may  communicate  your   forcible  on  any  man's  prmciples  who  is  not 


remarks  unth  more  freedom  than  perhaps 
you  wo>  Jd  have  done,  had  I  not  taken  these 
precautions  to  prevent  your  discover)-  of  my 
correspondent. 

October  7.  1758. 
I\Iy  dear  Friend, — Witherspoon's  Es- 
say on  the  Connexion  between  the  doctrine 
of  Justification  by  the  Imputed  Righteous- 
ness of  Christ  and  Holiness  of  Life,  dedi- 
cated to  vou,  was  lately  put  into  my  hands. 
You  know  that  I  have  an  unconqueraole 
dislike  to  your  favourite  expression,  the  im- 
puted righteousness  of  Christ.  I  would  on 
no  account  have  used  it  in  any  of  my  o\m 
writings ;  and  I  wish  it  was  universally  laid 
aside,  particularly  by  every  minister  in  his 
pulpit ;  because  I  apprehend,  the  notions 
which  the  generality  of  people  conceive  of 
the  "  imputed  righteousness  of  Christ,"  has 
done  as  much  mischief,  especially  amongst 
the  lower  sort,  to  the  cause  of  Christianity, 
as  the  writings  of  infideht}'  have  done 
amongst  those  of  a  higher  rank.  This  is 
my  settled  opinion.  Infidels  may  be,  and 
often  have  been  connnced ;  but  persons  of 
weak  minds,  habituated  to  the  sound  of  the 
imputed  righteousness  of  Christ,  (a  sadsfac- 
tory  definition  of  which  veiy  few  can  give), 
are  not  only  steeled  against  all  conviction, 
but  are  too  apt  to  disregard  morality,  and 
to  censure  and  despise  every  preacher  and 
writer,  who,  from  principle  or  any  other 
cause,  disapproves  of  this  cant  term.  Par- 
don me,  for  I  really  think  it  so,  and  there- 
fore cannot  call  it  otherwise  ;  yet  I  own 
myself  a  great  admirer  of  Witherspoon's 
Essay ;  I  think  it  the  best  defence  of  the 
doctrine  of  redemption  that  I  have  ever 
seen.  My  principal,  and  almost  only  <S:t- 
jection,  is  against  the  phrase  "  imputed 
righteousness."    It  aj)pears  to  me  quite  un- 


a  Socinian.  I  believe  the  doctrine,  as  he 
has  stated  it,  page  15,  though  I  shcJlild  not 
choose  to  use  some  of  his  expressions.  His 
remark,  page  61,  line  18,  &c.  is,  I  think, 
verj-  just,  and  confirmed  by  many  melan- 
choly facts.  Pages  63,  64,  65,  is  perhaps 
too  strong.  The  same  may  be  said  of  other 
systems  of  morality ;  they  who  embrace 
them,  and  live  unsuitably,  are  hypocrites, 
page  Go,  lines  2d  and  3d. 

L'pon  the  whole,  I  heartily  wish  every 
Christian,  especiaUy  everj-  minister  in  the 
kingdom,  would  carefully  read  this  very 
useful  treatise  of  Vt'itherspoon's,  and  act 
accordingly  ;  and  if  I  had  any  acquaintance 
with  him,  though  lam  hopeless  of  bringing 
you  over  to  my  sentiments,  I  would  endea- 
vour at  least  to  prevail  on  him  to  abolish 
the  phrase  imputed  righteousness  in  the  next 
edition,  and  then  his  book  would  be  _^more 
extensively  useful. 

I  am,  my  dear  friend,  (notwithstanding 
our  different  opinions  in  some  religious 
points),  with  much  real  esteem,  most  affec- 
tionately and  most  sincerely  yours,  &c.  &c. 

So  far  my  correspondent,  whose  letter  I 
shall  forbear  to  answer  till  I  hear  your  sen- 
timents ;  which  I  shaD  expect  by  the  first 
opportunity.  I  am  sure,  if  the  phrase,  im- 
puted righteousness  were  not  strictly  defen- 
sible on  scriptural  grounds,  it  should  never 
more  be  used,  either  in  the  pulpit,  or  in  the 
writings  of,  dear  sir,  your  obliged  friend 
and  servant. 


LETTER  CCV. 

Weston-Favell  Oct.  24,  1758. 
JMy  dear  Fkiend, — Let  ms  repeat  my 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LET'TERS. 


917 


thanks  for  tlie  trouble  you  have  taken,  and 
for  the  assistiince  you  have  given  me.  in 
relation  to  my  controversy  with  JMr.  Wes 
ley.  He  is  so  unfiiir  in  his  quotations,  aiul 
so  magisterial  in  his  manner,  tint  I  tind  it 
no  small  difficulty  to  jireserve  the  decency 
of  the  gentleman,  and  the  meekness  of  the 
Christian,  in  my  intended  answer.  ]\Iay 
our  divine  Master  aid  me  in  both  these  in- 
stances, or  else  not  suffer  me  to  write  at 
all. 

I  have  just  been  reading  Hab.  iii.  13, 
which  seeined  diflicuU  to  clear  ;  one  of  the 
nietaphors  referring  to  an  anin^^te,  the  other 
to  an  inanimate  structure  :  I  should  be  glad 
to  know,  how  j-ou  understand,  and  how  you 
would  explain  the  passage.  Perhaps,  at 
your  leisure,  you  will  consider  the  whole 
chapter;  and  when  I  ask  for  a  descant 
upon  one,  give  me  an  elucidation  of  twenty 
verses. 

I  have  certainly  a  very  great  esteem  for 
Dr.  Gill,  yet  I  never  could  assent  to  his 
notion  of  eternal  justification.  lam  very 
much  obliged  to  you  for  pointing  out  to  me 
the  passage  in  Theroii  and  Aspasio  which 
seems  to  favour,  or  proceeds  upon  such  a 
tenet.  It  shall  be  altered  in  the  ne.vt  edi- 
tion. 

I\Iy  dilatory  proceedings  you  vv'ill  ascribe 
to  the  real  cause,  sickness  ;  then  you  will 
not  deal  with  me  according  to  the  law  of 
retaliation,  but  according  to  that  law  of 
kindness,  which  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  has  written  upon  your  heart. 

Indeed,  I  think  your  arguments  are  un- 
answerable. If  so,  do  not  you  think  there 
are  some  things  in  my  third  Dialogue  excep- 
tionable? I  wish  you  would  examine  it; 
bring  it  to  the  touchstone  of  your  last  let- 
ter, and  where  it  is  wrong  correct  it. 

I  should  like  to  have  Theron  object 
something  in  your  way  of  argumentation, 
and  Aspasio  frankly  confess  that  he  has 
overshot  the  mark.  Such  an  acknowledg- 
ment endears  the  character  of  the  speaker, 
ajid  such  a  circumstance  makes  the  senti- 
ment more  impressive  on  the  reader. 

I  have  often  thought  the  second  verse  of 
Psalm  cxx.xi.  very  dillicult,  and  have  been 
at  a  loss  to  find  out  the  propriety  of  the 
comparison.  Why  composed  and  quiet  as 
a  weaned  child,  when  we  know,  that  the 
time  of  weaning  children  is  always  a  time 
of  disappointment,  often  of  disease?  At 
this  season  they  are  particularly  forward 
and  peevish  :  The  veiy  reverse,  therefore, 
of  that  frame  of  mind  which  tiie  Psalmist 
seems  to  be  illustrating.  This  was  the 
best  solution  which  occurred  to  my  thoughts : 
A  child  weaned  from  his  mother  is  dis- 
quieted and  fretful.  Such  is  my  natural, 
and  such  would  be  my  habitual  temper,  was 
I  not  influenced  and  calmed  by  grace  ;  but, 
through  divine  grace,   my  mind  is  resign- 


ed and  quiet  as  the  weaned  child,  when 
brought  back  to  the  mother,  and  lulled  to 
rest  on  that  soft  and  warm  bosom,  where  it 
had  fo  often  lain  with  the  greatest  delight, 
but  from  which  it  had  been  for  a  season 
withdrawn.  You  see  I  would  translate, 
"  in  pectus  sive  gremium  matris  sua?."  But 
whether  my  translation  be  warrantable,  or 
my  paraphrase  such  as  suits  the  tenor  of 
the  Psalm,  I  submit  to  your  determination. 
Accept  my  sincere  thanks  for  your  valu- 
able correction  of  a  passage  in  my  sermon : 
such  improving  animadversions  will  always 
be  more  acceptable  than  the  inebriating 
voice  of  applause,  far  more  acceptable  to 
your  truly  affectionate  friend. 


LETTER  CCVL 

Wesfon,  Oct.  19,  1758. 

My  dear  Friend, — You  some  time  ago 
sent  me  a  poem,  with  which  I  was  much 
delighted,  notwithstanding  the  uncouth 
metie  and  obsolete  words ;  I  mean  Flet- 
cher's Purple  Island,  to  which  were  sub- 
joined several  other  of  his  poetical  pieces  ; 
one  particularly  I  remember  to  his  brother 
G.  Fletcher,  on  his  poem  entitled  Christ's 
Victory  in  Heaven  and  on  Earth,  and  his 
triumph  over  and  after  Death. 

I  happened  to  mention  Fletcher  to  a 
gentleman  lately,  who  has  since  lent  me 
this  very  poem,  which  I  longed  to  see,  as 
the  title  pleased  me  so  much.  He  tells  mc, 
that  Phineas  Fletcher  was  not  only  an  ex- 
cellent poet  himself,  and  the  son  of  a  poet, 
(namely  of  John  Fletcher,  a  celebrated  dra- 
matic writer  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth) but  brother  to  two  eminent  poets,  of 
which  this  G.  Fletcher  was  one,  and  a 
young  student  at  Cambridge  when  he  wrote 
this  poem. 

I  wish  any  bookseller  could  be  prevailed 
with  to  reprint  the  Purple  Island,  and  add  to 
it  Christ's  ^^ictory,  8:c.  in  one  neat  volume. 
I  believe  it  would  sell,  if  properly  revised  and 
altered.  It  grieves  me  to  think  these  pieces 
should  be  lost  to  the  world,  and  be  for  ever 
buried  in  obscurity.  I  have  folded  down  seve- 
ral passages  in  Christ's  Victoryand  Triumph 
for  your  inspection  ;  and  if  they  meet  with 
your  approbation,  I  hope  you  will  join  your 
interest  with  me,  in  endeavouring  to  i)re- 
serve  the  work  from  perishing.  The  Pur- 
ple Island  is  to  be  sure  a  superior  poem, 
and  abounds  with  picturesque,  useful,  and 
striking  sentinienls  ;  but  with  that  you  are 
well  acquainted,  as  it  has  so  long  been  a 
favourite  with  you. 

1  am  now  so  very  ill,  that  I  scarce  think 
I  shall  live  to  see  the  approaching  Christ- 
mas."    Had  I  been  in  perfect  health,  and 


*  Mr.  Ilervey  (lied  on  Christmas  day,  according  to 

his  Dkvii  biiiniositioii. 


918 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


disengaged  from  other  employment,  I  ques- 
tion whether  I  should  not  have  retouched 
the  poetn',  changed  several  of  the  obsolete 
words,  illustrated  the  obscure  passages  by 
occiisional  notes,  and  run  the  risk  of  pub- 
lishing the  whole  at  my  own  expense.  To 
this  I  should  have  been  more  particularly 
inclined,  as  there  are  so  few  poems  of  the 
scriptural  kind  wrote  by  men  of  genius  ; 
though  no  subject  can  be  equally  sublime 
and  instructive,  or  more  entertaining  ;  wit- 
ness Milton's  Paradise  lost,  and  Pope's 
Messiah. 

Could  not  Rivington  get  some  one  to 
make  these  necessary  alterations  ?  Or  if 
he  does  not  care  to  engage  in  it,  would  not 
Dodsley  undertake  it,  who  is  himself  a  poet, 
and  very  capable  of  abridging  it  in  some 
places,  enlarging  it  in  others,  and  thorouich- 
]y  correcting  the  whole  ?  Do  you  know  -\Ir. 
Joseph  'WTiarton  of  Trinity  College,  Ox- 
ford, who  translated  Virgil?  He  is  very 
capable  of  doing  this  :  and  as  he  is  a  clergy- 
man, I  should  imagine  he  would  think  his 
time  well  employed  in  thus  contributing  to 
our  blessed  blaster's  honour. 

Methinks  if  a  subscription  to  modernize 
valuable  authors,  and  thus  rescue  them  from 
the  pit  of  oblivion,  was  properly  set  on  foot 
by  some  men  of  eminence,  and  the  propos- 
als well  dra^\Tl  up,  it  would  meet  with  due 
encouragement.  I  have  often  wondered  that 
such  an  attempt  has  never  yet  been  made. 
How  many  excellent  books  of  the  last  cen- 
tury are  now  out  of  print,  whilst  such  a 
number  of  useless  and  pernicious  writings 
are  continually  published  ? 

I  now  spend  almost  my  whole  time  in 
reading  and  praying  over  the  Bible.  In- 
deed, indeed  you  cannot  conceive,  how  the 
springs  of  life  in  me  are  relaxed  and  relax- 
ing. "  "What  thou  dost,  do  quickly,"  is  for 
me  a  proper  admonition,  as  I  am  so  appre- 
hensive of  my  approaching  dissolution.  ^ly 
dear  friend,  attend  to  "  the  one  thing  need- 
ful." AVith  this  I  send  you  my  heart,  its 
warmest  good  «nshes,  and  most  tender  af- 
fections ;  and  till  it  ceases  to  beat,  I  shall 
never  cease  to  pray  for  your  abundant  hap- 
piness, or  to  be,  my  dear  sir,  your  sincerely 
affectionate  friend,  &c. 

Some  of  the  passages  mentioned  in  the 
preceding  letter  to  have  been  folded  down 
by  ilr.  Hervey,  were  as  follow. 

In  the  three  following  stanzas,  the  poet 
speaks  of  man,  as  destitute  of  all  hope  and 
remedy  without  Christ. 

Should  any  to  himself  for  safety  fly  ? 
The  way  to  save  hirrself  (if  any  were) 

Is  to  fly  from  h  mself.    Should  he  rely 
Open  the  promise  of  his  wife  ?  what  there, 
What  can  he  sec.  but  that  he  most  may  fear — 

A  syren,  sweet  to  de  th  ?     Upon  his  friends  ? 

Who  what  he  netds,  or  what  he  hath  not,  lends; 

Or,  wantir^  aid  himte  f,  aid  to  another  sends  ? 


His  strength?  'tis  dust.  His  pleasure?  caus?  of  jirir. 
His  hope?  false  courtier.  Vouth  or  beauty  ?  brittle. 

Entreaty?  Fond.     Repentance?  late  and  vain 
Just  recompense  ?  the  world  were  all  too  little. 
Thy  love  ?  he  hath  no  title  to  a  tittle. 

Hell's  force  ?  in  vain  her  furies  hell  shall  gather. 

His  servants,  kinsmen,  or  his  childien  rather  ? 

His  child  (if  good)  shall  judge;  if  bad,  shall  curse  his 
father. 

His  life  ?  that  brings  him  to  his  end,  and  leaves  him. 

1  is  end  ?  that  leaves  him  to  begin  his  wo. 
His  poods?  what  good  in  that  which  so  deceives  him? 
His  gods  of  wood  ?  their  feet,  alas  I  are  slow 
Togo  to  help,  which  must  be  he'p'd  to  go. 
Honour,  great  worth  ?  ah  !  little  worth  they  he 
t'nto  their  owners.    Wit  ?  that  makes  him  see 
He  wanted  wit,  who  thought  he  had  it  wanting  thee.* 

In  another  place,  repentance  and  faith 

are  thus  described : 

Shef  in  an  arbour  sate 
Of  thorny  brier,  weeping  her  cursed  state. 

And  her  before  a  hasty  river  fled. 

Which  her  blind  eyes  with  faithful  penance  fed. 
And  all  about  the  grass  with  tears  hung  down  its  head. 

Her  eyes,  though  blind  abroad,  at  home  kept  fast. 
Inwards  they  tum'd  and  looked  into  her  head. 

At  which  she  often  started  as  aghast. 
To  see  so  fearful  spectacles  ot  dread  : 
And  with  one  hand  her  breast  she  martyred. 

Wounding  her  heart  the  same  to  mortify ; 

The  other  a  fair  damsel:}:  held  her  by. 

Which  if  but  once  let  go,  she§  sunk  inrunediately. 

In  another  place  is  shewn  the  sufficiency 
of  Christ,  and  impotency  in  man. 

what  hath  man  done,  that  man  shall  not  undo, 
Since  God  to  him  is  grown  so  near  akin  ? 

Did  his  foe  slay  him  ?   he  shall  slay  his  foe. 
Has  he  lost  all  ?  he  all  again  shall  win. 
Is  sin  his  master  ?  he  shall  master  sin . 

Too  hardy  soul  with  sin  the  field  to  try. 

The  only  way  to  conquer  was  to  fly  ; 

But  thus  long  death  hath  lived,  and  now  death'g 
self  shall  die. 

Christ  is  a  path,  if  any  be  misled  ; 

He  is  a  robe,  if  any  naked  be ; 
If  any  chance  to  hunger  he  is  bread  ; 

If  any  be  a  bondman,  he  is  free. 

If  any  be  but  weak,  how  strong  is  he  ? 
To  dead  men,  life  he  is;  to  sick  men,  health: 
To  blind  men,  sight :  and  to  the  needy,  wealth  ; 
A  pleasure  without  loss;  a  treasure  without  stealth . 

Despair,  Presumption,  Vain-glory,  &c. 
&c.  are  personified  in  different  parts  of  the 
poem  ;  but  the  preceding  and  following 
stanzas  will  be  sufficient  to  give  the  reader 
an  idea  of  it ;  and  therefore  it  would  be  un- 
necessary to  quote  all  the  passages  to  which 
Mr.  Hervey  had  referred. 

Ere  long  thev  came  near  to  a  baleful  bower,!) 

Much  likethe  mouth  of  that  infernal  cav  e. 
Which  gaping  stood  all  comers  to  devour, 
Dark,  doleful,  dreary,  like  a  greedy  grai  e 
That  still  for  carrion-carcasses  doth'  crave. 
The  ground  no  herbs  but  venomous  did  bear. 
Nor  ragged  trees  did  leaf,  but  everywhere 
Dead  bones  and  skulls  were  cast,  and  bodies  hanged 


Upon  the  roof  the  bird  of  sorrow  sat. 
Keeping  back  joyful  day  with  her  sad  not". 

And  through  the  shady  air  the  fluttering  bat 
Did  wave  her  leathern  sails,  and  blindly  Hoat ; 
While  with  her  wings  the  fatal  screech  owl  smote 

The  unblessed  house  ;  there  on  a  craggy  stone 

CEL.«No*i  hung,  and  made  a  direful  moan, 


»  Christ.    I-  Repentance.    ±  Faith.  §  Repentance. 

II  The  habitation  of  Despair  described. 

ll  One  of  the  Harpies. 
Insulae  lonio  in  raagno :  quas  dira  Celffno, 
Haipyriaeque  colunt  aliar.— rif^-.  JEn.  iii. 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


91d 


Like  cloudy  moon-shine  in  some  shadowy  grove. 

Such  was  the  light  in  which  DEsi'ArR  diil  dwell ; 
But  he  himself  with  night  for  darl^ncss  strove, 
His  black  uncombed  locks  dishevell'd  fell 
About  his  face;  through  which  as  brands  of  hell 
Sunk  in  his  skull,  his  staring  eyes  did  glow, 
Which  made  him  deadly  look;  their  glim])se  did  show 
Like  cockatrice's  eyes,  that  sparks  of  poison  throw. 

Now  he  would  dream  that  he  from  heaven  fell. 
And  then  would  snatch  the  air,  afraid  to  fall ; 
And  now  he  thought  he  sinking  was  to  hell, 

And  then  would  grasp  the  earth  ;  and  now  his  stall 
To  him  seem'd  hell,  and  then  he  out  would  crawl ; 
And  ever  as  he  crept  would  squint  as'de. 
Lest  he  should  be  by  fiends  from  hell  espied. 
And  forced,  alas  !  in  chains  for  ever  to  abide. 

Christ's  triumph  over  death,  by  his  suf- 
ferings on  the  cross. 

A  tree  was  first  the  instrument  of  strife, 
Where  Eve  to  sin  her  soul  did  prostitute ; 

A  tree  is  now  the  instrument  of  life. 
Though  ill  that  trunk  and  <  hrist's  fair  body  suit ; 
Ah,  cursed  tree  !  and  yet,  oh  blessed  fruit  ; 

That  death  to  him,  this  life  to  us  doth  give  ; 

Strange  is  the  cure,  when  things  past  cure  revive, 

And  the  Physician  dies  to  make  his  patient  live. 

Christ's  triumph  over  death  by  his  pas- 
sion in  the  garden. 

So  may  we  oft  a  tender  father  see, 

To  please  his  wanton  son,  his  only  joy. 
Coast  all  about  to  catch  the  roving  bee. 
And,  stung  himself,  his  busy  hands  employ 
To  save  tfie  honey  for  the  gamesome  boy  ; 
Or  from  the  snake  her  rancorous  teeth  erase, 
Making  his  child  the  toothless  serpent  chase, 
Or  with  his  little  hands  her  swelling  crest  embrace. 

Thus  Christ  himself  to  watch  and  sorrow  gives, 
While  dew'd  in  easy  sleep  dead  Peter  lies  ; 

Thus  man  in  his  own  grai  e  securely  lives, 
While  Christ  alive  with  thousand  horrors  dies. 
Yet  more  for  ours  than  his  own  pardon  cries. 

No  sins  he  had,  yet  all  our  sins  he  bare; 

So  much  doth  God  for  others' evils  care. 

And  yet  so  careless  men  for  their  own  evils  are. 

The   treachery   of  Judas  is  thus  repre- 
sented. 
See  drowsy  Peter,  see  where  Judas  wakes, 

Where  Judas  kisses  him  whom  Peter  flies; 
O  kiss,  more  deadly  than  the  sting  of  snakes  ! 

False  love,  more  hurtful  than  true  injuries  ! 

Ah  me  !  how  dearly  God  his  servant  luys  ! 
For  God  his  man  at  his  own  blood  doth  hold. 
And  man  his  God  for  thirty  pence  hath  sold: 
So  tin  for  silver  goes,  and  dunghill-dross  for  gold. 

The  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect, 
are  very  poetically  described  in  the  fol- 
lowing stanza  : 

No  sorrow  now  hangs  clouding  on  their  brow; 

No  bloodless  malady  empales  the  face  : 
No  age  drops  on  their  hairs  his  silver  snow ; 

No  nakedness  their  bodies  does  embase; 

No  poverty  themselves  and  theirs  disgrace  ; 
No   fear  of  death  the  joy  of  life  devours ; 
No  unchaste  sleep  their  precious  time  deflowers; 
No  loss,  no  grief,  no  change  wait  on  their  winged 
hours. 


LETTER  CCVII. 

Weston- Favell,  Nov.  7,  1758. 

RkVKUF.ND    AND    DEAR     SiR, 1     should 

be  very  ungratefid,  if  I  did  not  thank  you 
for  your  late  present ;  and  for  the  many 
obliging'  things  you  arc  pleased  to  say  of  me 


and  my  writings,  in  your  valuable  letter.  I 
hope  they  will  be  successful  advocates  for 
the  furtherance  of  the  gospel ;  and  I  am 
ver)'  sorry  to  hear  by  you,  as  well  as  from 
several  other  of  my  correspondents  in  Scot- 
land, that  the  gentlemen  of  letters  in  that 
kingdom  are  deplorably  gone  off  from  the 
simplicity  and  truth  of  the  Scriptures,  and 
that  the  Socinian  tenets  are  gaining  ground 
apace.  I  could  wish,  methinks,  at  this  cri- 
tical juncture,  that  Alsop's  *  Anti-Sozzo, 
which  made  its  first  appearance  in  1675, 
was  judiciously  abridged,  and,  in  the  neat 
Glasgow  type,  reprinted  in  a  duodecimo  vo- 
lume ;  though  it  is  almost  a  pity  to  abridge 
it,  (unless  it  was  well  executed),  as  the 
whole  is  so  interesting,  and  might  be  con- 
tained in  two  duodecimo  volumes,  or  even 
in  one  octavo  volume,  if  printed  at  Glas- 
gow. It  is,  I  can  assure  you,  a  very  smart 
book,  and  one  of  the  best  defences  of  the 
evangelical  doctrines  I  ever  saw,  or  ever 
expect  to  see,  even  if  my  life,  which  now 
draws  very  near  its  end,  could  be  prolonged 
to  the  next  century.  In  short,  I  think  it 
an  unanswerable  performance  ;  and  divines 
of  every  denomination  would  do  well  to 
make  themselves  thoroughly  masters  of  this 
spirited  and  entertaining  writer,  as  they 
would  then  be  able  to  defend  the  truth  as  it 
is  in  Jesus  against  all  kind  of  opponents, 
how  witty,  keen,  subtle,  or  malignant  soever 
the  attack  might  be.  I  would,  therefore, 
beg  you  to  recommend  this  book  as  a  spe- 
cific against  Socinianism,  and  use  your  in- 
terest to  have  it  forthwith  reprinted  at 
Glasgow. 

Glad  I  am  to  be  informed,  that  you  are 
so  very  zealous  for  the  honour  and  interest 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  What  can  make 
mankind  happy,  but  his  gospel  ?  What  is 
worthy  of  our  sedulous  application,  but  his 
interest  ?  What  will  be  a  substantial  reward, 
but  his  acceptance,  favour,  and  love  ? 

I  am  now  reduced  to  a  state  of  infant 
weakness,  and  given  over  by  my  physician. 
My  grand  consolation  is  to  meditate  on 
Christ ;  and  I  am  hourly  repeating  those 
heart-reviving  lines  of  I)r.  Young,  in  his 
fourth  night. 

This,  only  this,  subdues  the  fear  of  death  : 
And  what  is  this?  Survey  the  wondrous  cure; 
And  at  each  step  let  higher  wonder  rise  ! 

I.  Pardon  for  infinite  otlence  !  2.  and  pardon 
Through  means  that  speak  its  value  uifinite  I 

3.  A  pardon  bought  with  blood  I    4.  With  blood  di- 
vine 
a.  With  blood  divine  of  hin:  I  made  my  foe  ! 
6.  Persisted  to  provoke!  7.Though  woo'd  andaw'd, 
Bless'd  and  chastised,  a  flagrant  rebel  still  '. 

8.  A  rebel  'midst  the  thunders  of  his  throne 

9.  Nor  1  alone!  111.  .\  rebel  universe: 

II.  My  species  up  in  arms  !  13.  Not  one  exempt. 
l.J.  ^■et  for  the  foulest  of  the  foul  he  dies 

M.  Most  joy'd  for  the  redcem'd  from  deepest  guilt ! 
15.  As  if  our  race  were  held  of  highest  rank  ; 
And  Godhead  dearer,  as  more  kind  to  man. 


*  Anti-Sozzo,  or  against  Socinus  (Kaustus),  a  na- 
tive of  Sienna,  whose  Italian  name  was  Sozzo.  He 
wrote  a  book  about  1.^,75,  entitled,  De  Jcsu  Chri»:<» 
servatorc,  and  died  10O4. 


y'20 


•A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


These  amazingly  comfortable  lines,  I  dare    obtained  by  him  ;  and,   in  short,   what  the 


say,  you  will  treasure  up  in  your  heart  ;  aiu! 
when  you  think  of  tbem,  will  think  of  me  ; 
and  I  hope,  dear  sir,  pray  for  me,  that  I 
may  not  disgrace  my  ministry,  or  dishonour 
the  gospel  of  my  Master  in  my  last  moments, 
by  unbelief!  base  provoking  unbelief !  This 
probably  is  the  last  time  you  will  ever  hear 
from  me  :  for  indeed  it  is  with  some  diffi- 
culty I  have  wrote  now  ;  but  I  shall  not  f  lil 
to  remember  you  in  my  intercessions  tor  my 
friends  at  the  throne  of  Christ ;  and  I  hum-  j 


triie  stiite  of  his  case  was.  Nor  mil  In 
condemti  any  one  unjustly  or  arbitrarily. 
Hcvv'  comfort-able  a  retlection  is  this  !  espe- 
cially to  one  who  is  cruelly  persecuted,  or 
unjustly  censured — that  God  shall  judge  the 
world  in  equity ;  and  yet  what  a  tremen- 
dous thoii!;ht  is  it,  that  eveiy  d<iy  we  live 
we  provoke  this  Judge  of  all  men,  and  in- 
crease our  heap  of  sin,  which  swells  into 
such  a  fri^.-btful  size,  such  a  stupendous 
mountain  of  guilt,  as  will  make  us  one  day 


"bly  beg  of  God  Almighty,  that  the  love  of  I  stand  amazed  at  the  sight  of  it  I  Eut  'what 


■  bis  Son  may  sweetly  constrain  you,  and 
that  his  promises  may  be  ever  operative  on 
your  mind. — I  am,  with  great  gratitude  and 
much  esteem,  reverend  and  dear  sir,  your 
a^l'ectionate  brother  in  Christ. 


LETTER  CCVIIL 

Friday  morning. 
Dear  Sir, — You  ask  me  what  I  think 
of  you,  in  case  it  should  please  God  to  take 
you  out  of  the  world  in  the  perplexed  state 
you  have  described  to  me.  An  answer  to 
such  a  question  is  much  more  difficult  than 
you  seem  to  be  aware  of;  and,  therefore,  I 
must  beg  leave  to  decline  passing  any  sen- 
tence.     We  ministers  are   to   teach,  warn. 


art  thou,  O  thou  great  mountain  ?  before 
Zerubbabel  thou  shalt  become  a  plain,' 
Zech.  iv.  7.  '  We  have  an  advocate  with 
the  Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,  and 
he  is  the  propitiation  for  our  sins.'  Oh! 
that  I  may  have  a  devout  and  lively  faith  in 
him,  as  it  is  by  him  alone  my  sins  can  be 
cancelled.  Slay  the  cry  of  his  blood  dro\^"n 
their  clamour ! — We  are,  most  just  God, 
the  children  of  thy  wrath,  and  be  is  the 
Son  of  thy  love,  who  died  to  save  us,  and 
through  whom  thou  art  v.illing  to  receive 
us.  Yet  what  a  distrustful  fainting  of  mind 
comes  over  me,  on  the  remembrance  of  for- 
mer transgressions,  which  neither  a  retiec- 
tion  on  God's  ineffable  goodness,  nor  on 
the  unbounded  value  of  the  sacrifice  of 
Christ,  can  effectually  relieve  ?  '  Hear  me, 
O  Lord  God,  in  tljis  my  hour  of  heartfelt 
distress,  nor  take    thou   vengeance  of  m;, 


comfort,  and  exhort  every  man,  according  to 

God's  most  holy  word  ;  but  after  death  ]  sins  ;  spare  thy  creature,  O  Lord,  spare  him 
comes  the  judgment  on  each  of  us.  P'or,  j  whom  thou  hast  redeemed  with  thy  most 
alas  !  how  little,  how  very  little  do  we  know  |  precious  blood  ;  let  thy  mighty  Spirit  fit  me 
of  one  another,  cr  of  ourselves  !  The  most ,  for  mercy  and  acceptance,  and  be  not,  oh  ! 
amazing,  perhaps,  and  one  of  the  most  hum-  ,  be  not  angry  with  me  for  ever.'  " 
bling  considerations  too,  which  can  well  be  j  With  this  prose  quotation,  I  send  you  a 
offered  to  the  human  mind,  is,  that  though  '  copy  of  verses  on  the  renovation  of  a  sin- 
we  cannot  form  a  tolerable  judgment  of  any  j  ner  ;  which  will,  perhaps,  at  this  time,  be 
man's  real  condition,  yet  God  shall  judge  j  neither  unacceptable  nor  unseasonable.  It 
the  world,  the  whole  world,  in  equity ;  not  j  was  wrote  by  a  very  particular  friend  of 
so  much  as  one  single  case,  how  intricate  ;  mine,  and  is  as  poetical  as  it  is  instructive 
soever  it  may  seem  to  us,  will  he  mistake,  and  consolatoiy. 
He  was,  is,  and  ever  shall  be,  omniscient  j 
and  omnipresent.  And  yet,  short  sighted 
creatures  as  we  are,  how  often  do  we  usurp 
this  prerogative,  and  presume  to  judge  our 
fellow- creatures  ?  A  certain  author,  whose 
name  I  forgot,  (though  I  registered  to  the 
following  effect  from  him  in  one  of  my  old 
diaries),  has  observed,  "  That  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  mortals  to  form  an  equitable 
judgment  (,f  the  state  of  any  one  individual; 
because  God  alone  knows  all  the  circum- 
stances be  has  beeii,  and  now  is  in.  He 
alone  can  be  the  pi-<>j)er  judge  of  his  abili- 
ties and  powers  ;  w'lat  opportunities  he  had 
of  improving  himself,  and  of  doing  good; 
what  were  the  force  of  his  temptations ; 
what  difficulties  he  had  to  struggle  with  ; 
\shut  portion  of  divine  grace  was  given  to 
liim ;  what  natural  understanding  he  had  ; 
ivhat  acquired  knowledge  was  or  could  be 


I. 
When,  with  mvmind  devoutly  press'il. 
Dear  Saviour  !  my  revolving  breast 

V.ouid  past  offeiices  trace 
Trembling  1  m.ake  the  black  review. 
Yet  pleased  behold,  admiring  too. 

The  power  of  changing  grace. 

II. 

This  tongue,  with  blasphemies  defiled. 
These /erf,  to  erring  paths  beguiled. 

In  heavenly  league  agree; 
AVho  would  believe  such  lips  could  nraisc. 
Or  think  my  dark  and  winding  ways 

Should  ever  lead  to  thee  ? 

III. 
These  eves,  that  once  abused  lljeirsitl't. 
Now  lift  to  thee  their  watery  light 

And  weep  a  silent  flood  . 
These  hands  ascend  in  ceaseless  prayer. 
Oh  !  wash  away  the  stains  they  wear 

In  pure,  redeeming  b'.ood 

IV. 

These  ears  that  pleased  could  entertam 
The  midnight  oath,  the  lustfi;!  strain, 
W  hen  roiiud  the  festal  board ; 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LETTERS. 


921 


Now  deaf  to  all  the  enrhantii^ft  noise, 
'ivoitl  tiielhioiig,  cietpst  tliejoys, 
And  long  to  htai'  thy  word. 

V. 

Thus  art  thou  served  :  in  every  part, 

Oh!  wouldst  thou  but  transform  my /leart, 

That  drossy  tiling  refine ; 
That . f rare  mii;ht  m.-lnyf'.-!  strength  control. 
And  a  new  creature,  liody,  soul, 

Be  all,  be  ever  tliinc. 

I  transcribed  these  verses,  as  I  hope  you 
will  commit  them  to  your  memory,  aiiti  often 
repeat  them  as  you  ride  or  walk,  till  your 
tongue,  lips,  eyes,  cars,  and  very  heart,  are 
subservient  to  tlie  great  end  of  your  salva- 
tion, and  that  of  others.  Exert  yourself, 
be  of  good  cheer,  the  clouds  that  darken  the 
face  of  your  aflairs,  will  ere  long  disperse. 
He  that  gave  his  blood  for  you,  and  refused 
not  to  bear  the  racking  agonies  of  the  cross 
for  you  ;  he  will  not  leave  you,  nor  forsake 
you.  God,  who  is  faithful  and  just,  has 
promised  to  forgive  us  our  sins  through  the 
mediation  of  his  Son.  Lord,  I  believe 
this  ;  help  thou  our  inibelief. — So  wishes, 
and  so  prays,  yours  very  sincerely. 


LETTER  CCIX. 

^Veston-Favdl,  jHotidti?/  mormng. 
Dear  Siiv,— I  am  much  obliged  to  you 
for  the  lean  of  Dr.  Squire's  Inquiry  into 
the  Foundation  of  the  English  Constitu- 
tion. The  performance  seems  to  be  curi- 
ous, useful,  and  interesting.  But  iiow  in- 
teresting soever  the  subject  may  be  to 
others,  it  can  be  very  little  so  now  to   me  ; 


Christ?  I  will  be  bold  to  say,  that,  on  an 
impartial  examination,  the  majority  will  be 
found  on  the  side  of  those  who  embrace  the 
doctrine  of  the  imputation  of  Christ's  right- 
eousness, and  who  expect  salvation  by  him 
alone,  and  not  by  deeds  which  they  have 
done.  Yet  I  should  vvoiuler  how  men  of 
discenimtiit  (men  who,  one  would  think, 
should  be  daily  sensible  of  their  innume- 
rable failings)  could  possibly  espouse  the 
opposite  doctrines,  had  I  not  too  many  me- 
lancholy jiroofs  to  the  contrary.  You  may 
safely  confide  in  this  doctrine  ;  for  this, 
dear  sir,  is  not  to  be  considered  as  the  par- 
ticular opinion  of  James  Hervey,  but  it  is 
the  general  opinion  of  our  exemplary  refor- 
mers ;  it  is  the  doctrine  of  our  Articles  and 
our  Homilies.  Will  you  say  that  our  mo- 
dern moral  Christians,  if  I  may  so  call  them, 
are  to  be  set  in  competition  with  men  like 
these  ?  I  apjieal  to  facts.  ]\Iatk  the  ellect 
of  preaching  mere  morality,  and  of  preach- 
ing the  grace  of  Christ.  But  so  long  as 
the  devil  is  suliered  to  deceive  the  nations, 
and  so  long  as  the  heart  is  unconvinced  of 
sin,  we  may  assure  ourselves,  the  doctrines 
of  justification  by  Christ's  righteousness, 
and  salvation  by  free  grace,  will  meet  with 
opposition.       Therefore  St.    Paul    exhorts 

1  unothy,    Ay^tivii^H     mv     Kukov     c  yava     tas 

■snTio);,  "  to  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith  -." 
it  is  an  address  to  a  combatant,  and  sup- 
poses a  conflict,  a  noble  conflict ;  xaXos,  the 
finest  word  in  the  most  expressive  language, 
importing  all  that  is  goo<l  and  great ;  let  us 
not  then  be  ashamed  of  the  cause. 

fliy   cough  is   very  troublesome.     I  can 
get   little  I  est;   medicines   yield  no  relief; 


as  my  indisposition  is  daily  increasing,  and  ' 

must,  in  all  human  probability,  soon  ]>ut  an    but  my  never-failing   cordial   is   the  love  of 

end  to  my  being.  Christ. 

In  sjiite  of  the  sarcastical  reflections  you 
say  are  thrown  iqion  me,  I  mtjst  ricommend 
to  every  one  iVIar.-hall  on  Sanctification,  and 
Jenks's  Submission  to  the  righteousness  of 
God.  These  are  with  me  the  two  funda- 
iTiental  books;  these  teach  vital  religion. 
Do  they  who  would  decry  faith,  and  extol 
their  good  works,  distinguish  themselves  by 
the  practice  of  them  ?  If  not,  I  must  beg 
leave  to  say,  they  are  self-condemned.  On- 
ly observe  for  the  next  month  (by  their 
fruits  you  will  know  them)  the  condui-t  of 
those  «ho  are  such  loud  advocates  for  the 
merit,  the  dignity  of  man,  and  the  freedom 
of  his  action  ;  and  of  those  who  rely  on  the 
active  and  passive  obedience  of  Christ ;  and 
then  tell  me  ingenuously,  which  are  the 
people  that  pay  the  greatest  reverenci- 
to  the  word  of  God  ;  and  in  particular,  to 
the  fourth  commandment?  Inqiiire  whicii 
of  them  use  family  prayer?  whose  con- 
versation is  most  edifying?  which  of  them 
visit  and  travel  on  Sundays  ?  and  which 
of  them  .pass  that  holy  day  as  becomes 
l!io>e    wli.)    h.ive    named     the     name    of 


Religion  berrs  my  spirits  up  ; 

A  faithful  and  unchanging  God 
Lays  the  foundation  for  my  hope, 

In  oaths,*  in  promises,!  in  blood.J 

Watts'  Hymns,  b.  i. 

Staynoe  (see  Let.  cxxx.)  whom  you  in- 
quire after,  was  a  good  man,  a  tutor  at  Tri- 
nity College,  Oxfonl,  and  afterwards  rector 
of  St.  Leonard,  Foster-lane  ;  and  in  the 
year  1704,  published,  in  two  volumes,  octa- 
vo, his  treatise  on  Salvation  by  Jesus 
Cluist.  Mine  is  the  second  edition.  It  is 
no  contemptible  book,  though  the  style  is 
rather  too  ])rolix,  and  he  has  some  peculiar 
notions.  But  who  has  ever  seen  a  faultless 
book?  All  writers  have  their  failings, 
more  or  less.  No  mortal  is  exempted  from 
them  ;  not  even  Homer,  Yirgil,  or  3Iiltoii 
himself.  This  ought  to  teach  us  candour 
and  humility  in  such  a  state  of  imperfec- 
tion ;  and  above  all,  it  should  insi)ire  us 
with  a  reverential  admiration  of  the  book  of 
God,  which   alone   is  free   from   error ;  by 

♦lltb.  %i.  17.       t-Tct.  1. -1.        tllLi.iS. 


922 


EPISTOLA  AD  C.  THAYER. 


which  we  are  guided  into  all  truth  ;  a?id  in 
which  we  are  promised  eternal  life,  procur- 
ed for  us  by  the  righteousness,  sutTeritigs, 
and  mediation  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  wish, 
raost  heartily  wish,  you  may  sufficiently  re- 
gard this  inestimable  book  ;  and  then  you 
will  be  like  the  tree  planted  by  the  water- 


side, which  bringeth  forth  its  fruits  in  due 
season  ;  and  like  that  happy  man  of  whom 
it  is  written  l)y  the  Psalmist,  "Look! 
whatsoever  he  doeth  it  shall  prosper."  I 
am,  my  dear  friend,  afi'ectionately  and  ujial- 
terably  yours,  &c. 


JACOBI  HERVEY 
DE   LIBRO   JOBI 

EPISTOLA  AD  CAROLUM  THAYER. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Tins  epistle  was  published  by  John  Riv- 
ington,  Mr.  Hervey's  bookseller,  in  1766, 
and  sold  at  6(1.  The  following  advertise- 
ment is  prefixed  to  it. 

"  The  design  of  this  publication  is  to 
acquaint  the  reader  with  the  late  ingenious 
Mr.  Hervey's  sentiments  on  the  book  of 
Job  ;  and  it  is  given  to  the  community  in 
the  language  with  which  it  was  penned,  as 
a  specimen  of  this  author's  Latin  style  ;  but 
as  it  has  never  been  corrected,  it  is  presum- 
ed that  the  candid  reader  will  make  proper 
allowances  for  its  defects. 

*'  N.B — The  original  letter  (without  the 
least  variation)  was  transmitted  to  the, 
press  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Robert  Knight, 
rector  of  Weston- Fa  veil,  in  Northamp- 
tonshire, who  married  Mr.  Hervey's 
youngest  sister  ;  and  it  is  now  deposited 
in  the  hands  of  Mr.  Rivington,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  such  as  desire  to  be  assured 
of  its  authenticity." 

The  translation  of  this  excellent  letter, 
■which  now  makes  its  tiist  appearance  In 
print,  was  undertaken  by  the  printer,  at  the 
desire  of  several  gentlemen,  who  conceived 
that  the  inserting  the  Latin  copy  of  it  only 
m  our  author's  works,  would  be  of  no  use 
to  the  generality  of  the  encouragers  of  this 
edition.  Though  the  translator  does  not 
pretend  that  the  translation  is  any  way  equal 
to  the  original,  yet  he  Hatters  himself  he 
has  given  the  author's  meaning,  which  may 
be  of  use  to  the  unlearned.  Those  who 
aje  skilled  in  the  learned  languages  will 
prefer  the  original,  and  cannot  be  displeas- 
ed that  Mr.  Hervey  is  also  made  to  speak 
in  English  to  those  who  do  not  understand 
Latin. 


REVERENDO  VIRO 

CAROLO  THAYER, 

SALUTEM. 

MiROR  equidem,  vir  spectatissime,  tan- 
tam  tibi  linguae  non  vernaculse,  quaeque 
ab  hodiernis  colloquiis  exulat,  copiam  in 
promptu  esse.  Ni  te  jamdudum  nossem, 
uberrima  ista  Romani  eloquii  penus  facile 
me  induceret  ut  crederem,  Tusculi*  te  po- 
tius  quam  Abingtonisef  habitasse.  Quod 
ad  me  attinet,  quum  probe  sciam,  quam 
rudis  sim  et  inexercitatus  in  hoc  scribendi 
genere,  paulum  abfuit  quin  sileutum  mihi 
perpetuuni  indixissem.  Per  plurimos  dies, 
tenuitatis  nostra  conscius,  manum  de  tabu- 
la timidam  cohibui.  Verum  enimvero  pu- 
dor  reclamavit,  animusque  ab  ingratitudine 
abhorrens  stimulos  addidit ;  atque  inde  sit 
ut  calamus,  impar  licet  et  ineptus,  ad  epis- 
tolare  munus  jam  tandem  excitatus  est. 

Gratias  itaque  ago,  quantas  possum  maxi- 
mas,  quod  plurima  mihi  notatu  dignissima 
de  Jobo,  Jobique  libro,  pro  singular!  tua 
humanitate  atque  eruditione,  ultro  commu- 
nicasti.  Versionem  imprimis  ad  examen 
revocas.  Nitida  ea  est,  elegantiarum  ferax, 
vimque  Hebraearum  vocum,  supra  quod 
sperari  potuit,  vix  imminutam  tradit.  Ad- 
das licet,  novam  earn  esse  in  plurimis,  sed 
quae  auctoritatem  suam  secum  afFerat,  et 
legentium  suftVagia  primo  statim  ab  intuitu 
adsciscit.     Notas   deinde  sagaci  percurris 


*  Tusculum,  urbs  Italira,  ubi  villa  Ciceroiiis. 
t  Abingtonia,  oppiduluni  prove  Nortliantoniam. 


EPISTOLA  AD  C.  THAYER. 


923 


orulo.  Quas  qui  lepit  religitque,  hand  fa- 
cile est  dicere,  utuiin  plus  sit  re[)ortaturus 
utilitatis,  ex  amplissima  orieritalis  erudi- 
tionis  sej^ete  ;  sou  potius  oblectameiiti,  a 
dulcij^simo  illo  criticic  artis  tiore.  Adeo 
lion  frivola  sunt  et  futilia  qua"  nbique  ainio- 
tantur,  nt  vocabuloruni  enipliasin,  arjju- 
mentonun  pondeia,  sensuum  suhlimitatein, 
colloquii  deniqiie  telam  pulcherrinio  oi'dine 
deductani,  manu  limatissima  adniota  collus- 
trant.  Imo  tanto  affuso  luniine  follustrant, 
ut  vol  mihi  hebetioiis  ingenii  viio  pates- 
cant,  et  patefacta  placeant.  Quid  luultis? 
eum  ipsum,  puto,  commentatorem  nat'tus 
est  Jobus,  quern  pra?  omnibus  aliis  optasset, 
si  superstes  adbuc  inter  homines  versare- 
tur. 

De  Jobi  aevo,  quo  vixit,  non  constat  inter 
doctos,  iieque  opiiior  constabit  unquam. 
Atqui  verisimilima  videtur  quam  tu  aliique 
tueiitur  opinio.  In  vestras  partes  non  in- 
vitus  transeo.  Illustrem  hiinc  principeni 
non  nisi  post  Abrahamum  tloruisse  certo 
certius  est.  Qui  enim  nomen  terice  dedit, 
quam  alter  amicorum  eoluit,  Temanitidi,  is 
inter  Esaui  posterns  numeratur.  Frohi- 
bet  porro  insignissimum  istud  encomium 
quo  cohonestatur  a  Spiritu  Sancto,  ne  sus- 
picemur  euin  diebus  patriarcliarum  Isaaci 
aut  Jacobi  vitam  transegisse.  Vix  potuit 
vere  dice  "  ci  ain  cthu  cading"  nisi  ])ost 
funcra  Jose])hi.  Inter  hunc  igitur  morte 
ablatum,  et  Mosen  ex  epbebis  excessum, 
omnino  statuendo  videtur  aera  Jobi. 

De  scripto  ipso,  profluxisse  illud  ab 
alia  quam  Jobi  maiui  nullus  dubito.  Is 
quippe  inter  Arabas  nutritus,  atque  Ara- 
buni  lingujfi  assuefactus,  vix  tanta  tuit  lite- 
braicarum  literarum  peritia  imbutus,  quan- 
ta opus  erat  ad  res  tales  tali  verborum  ni- 
tore  et  concinnitate  consignandas  chartis. 
Si  Mosi  author!  librum  ascribere  quis  ma- 
luit,  quod  Anglicsma  nostra  in  observati- 
imculis  suis  margini  atiixis  editio  iniuiit, 
turn  demum  abritror  ante  Israelitas  per 
deserta  traductos  confectum  esse.  Legis- 
lator ille  celeberrimus  dum  tanto  agmini 
ducem  se  rectoremque  pra^buit,  vix  potuit 
ad  histoiiam  poeticam  contexendam  ani- 
nium  appellere.  Ingens  prsterea  rerimi 
quotidie  agendarum  nmltitudo  atque  oruis, 
ne  tale  aliquid  moliretur,  mentem  sine  du- 
bio  abstraherent.  Nulla  autem  ea  potuit 
opportunior  esse  occasio,  qua;  illi  obtigit, 
dum  exul  inter  INIidianitas  commoratus  est. 
Rusticabatur  time  temporis  ;  otiabatur  ; 
omnia  habuit  indulta,  qua;  poetce  ingeiiimri 
stimulare  atijue  accendere  solent.  Iliiic 
insuper  sentenii;e  adstipulatur,  <juod  in  eas 
regioiies  relegatus,  onmia  ((ua;  ad  Jobuin, 
finitinue  terrte  incolan),  jtertinerent,  edis- 
cere  potuit  uberius.  {jlnaviter  quoque  v^j-o 
tali  conjectura  militat  frequentior  exotici 
idiomatis  usus,  phrasiumque  varietas  Ara- 
bicam,  indolein  plane  redolentium.     War- 


burtonus  noster  omni  nisu  id  agit,  ut  Esrie, 
scriptorum  sacrorum  ultimo,  thesaurarium 
hoc  theologian,  pliilosophije,  atque  oinni- 
geiiie  fere  doctrinal  acceptum  referamus. 
Qufe  quidem  hypotiiesis,  speciosa  licet,  et 
rationibus  neutiquam  contemnendis  sub- 
nixa,  tideni  a))U(i  ine  non  optinet.  Signa 
enim  sunt  (ni  vanus  auguror)  et  criteria, 
passim  per  librum  sparsa,  qua?  ajtatem  longe 
antiquiorem  subindicant.  Ad  legem  latam 
aut  res  gestas  Israelitarum  ne  allusum  est, 
quod  mihi  videre  contigit,  uspiam.  Nulli- 
bi  vel  mentio  fit  miraculorum  in  .^gypto 
et  per  deserta  editorum.  Que  tantum 
cuivis  poemati  coiiciliarent  decus,  tantum 
purro  Judteis  solamen  suppeditarent,  ut  a 
iiemine  cordato  intacta  prorsus  relinquer- 
entur.  Inter  alia  qua;  .scripsisti  pulcher- 
rima,  tjjv  7vj!<n»T>i7»  toti  huic  historiie  ad- 
struis.  Adeo  non  esse  asseris,  assertura- 
que  probas,  fictitium  quendam  pii  ingenii 
lusum,  ut  omnia  e  contra  revera  agerentur. 
Proinde  non  debere  aliquem  inter  legen- 
dum  putare,  sibi  ante  oculos  esse  ejus  solius 
quod  fieri  potuit  figmentuni,  sed  genuinam 
ejus  quod  fuit  narrationem.  Me  jam  an- 
tea  huic  opinioni  accedentem,  fecerunt  quas 
protulisti  rationes,  ut  ei  arctius  adhceream. 
Etsi  vero  historise  veritatem  sibi  vindicet, 
dramatici  tamen  operis  lepores  prue  se  fert. 
Voces  si  spectes,  ornatissimie  illie  cultissi- 
maeque,  non  tarn  enarrant,  quam  res  conspi- 
ciendas  ferme  exhibent.  Sensibus  autem 
nihil  gravius,  grandius,  sublimius,  Deo  in- 
spirante  dignius,  aut  humano  generi  magis 
scitu  necessarium.  Characterum  intereii 
diversitas  mira;  quodque  artis  est  suinma, 
ad  vivum  depicti  singuli,  et  sibi  invicem 
undique  constantes.  Altera  insuper  venu- 
statis  specie  gaudet  Joba^is  nostra,  qua;  ar- 
tificio.sis  dramaticorum  commentis  decori 
est  atque  ornamento.  Non  finnum  ex  fui- 
gore,  quod  nionuit  criticus,  sed  ex  fumo 
lucem  edit.  Sermone  pedestri  orditur. 
Inde  pedetentim  progreditur  ad  altiores  di- 
cendi  modos.  Et  cothurno  induto,  sensi- 
bus quoque  assurgit.  Rerum  major  nasci- 
tur  ordo.  ^^ehementiores  congressus.  Ac- 
riora  coiifiictantiuin  certaniina.  Usque 
dum  nihil  aniplius  aut  fortius  hinc  illinc 
dici  potuit.  'I'um  demum  interveiiit  mo- 
derator. Qu;e  prave  dicta  sunt  utrinque 
subacto  pen.sitat  judicio,  debitaque  repre- 
hensione  castigat.  yumnia,  si  fieri  potest, 
ope  nititur,  ut  fervidos  dispiit;  ntium  ani- 
mos  componat,  litemque  diu  agitatam  diri« 
mat.  Sed  frustra.  Major  inest  nodus, 
et  diflicilioris  longe  solutionis,  quam  ut 
juveia  remonstranti  cedat.  Dkus,  ecce 
Dia^s  adest !  quidquanme  augustius  exco- 
gitari  possit  ?  Qui  circuitus  crclorum  pir- 
ambulat,  in  areiiam  quiusi  (constet  summa 
revereiitia  dicto)  descendit.  Qui(iue  astra 
per  inane  volvcntia  librat,  ii.i.k  ipse  coji- 
trovcrsiie  hujus  monjenta  rt  pondcra  reqiia. 


924 


EPISTOLA  AD  C.  THAYER. 


quasi  bilance  trutinat.     Deo  autem  orante  !  est  inter  codices  divinos  pagina,  qure  non 
caiisam,    lit   ferocienfes   animi   subsidunt !  i  aiirifodinis  sit  prtestantior ;  mdla  vel  mimi- 


reniti  cessanf.  Manus  dant.  Obmiites- 
ciint.  Jobiis  ipse,  quern  lautiores  de  fua 
puntate  tumidique  iiimis  conceptus,  ultra 
quim  par  erat,  vexeraiit,  erroris  convictus, 
iniquitatis  manifestus,  pudore  suffunditur, 
arma  projicet,  ad  pedes  intiiiita?  misericor- 
diiE  venerabundi's  devolvitur.  Noscit  seip- 
sum  ;  poenitentiam  agit ;  cedendo  vincet ; 
eumque,  simul  atque  se  coram  Deo  hu- 
millime  deprimit,  calamitatis  sortitus  est 
exitum,  quern  iiefas  esset  expectare,  dum 
inculpatam  sibi  integritatem  teinere  nimis 
arrogavit.  Omnia  sua,  non  ita  piidenj 
misere  deperdita,  cumulatissima  manu  re- 
ponit,  auget,  stabilitque  numen  propitium. 
Palmfe  ad  instar,  pressus  resurgit ;  quam- 
que  omnes  de  felicitate  sua  conclamatuin 
iri  arbitrabantur,  tum  demum  rediviva  eva- 
sit,  multoque,  quam  dim,  Isetius  eflloruit. 
Qiiam  subitanea  atque  insperata  prorsus 
catastrophe  !  quam  jucundus  malomm  iinis ! 
quam  pulchra  coronis  toto  operi  superin- 
ducta ! 

Leviter  hsec  tetigisse  sufficiat.  A  rebus 
curioste  speculatinnis,  tuo  ductus  exemplo, 
ad  utilioralonge  mentem  calaraumque  verto. 
Quffi  lidem  vacillantem  suffiilciant,  praxim- 
que  errabundam  niiuis  gubernatoris  solcrtis 
ritu  ad  clavum  assidue  sedentis,  corrigant 
dirigantque,  ea  nunc  consideranda  occurrunt. 
Quod  prudenter  mones,  de  ediscenda  animi 
fortitudine  ex  Jobo  afflictionum  agminibus 
lacessito,  nee  tameii  fracto  aut  prostrato  ; 
de  petendis  insuper  ad  patientiam  incita- 
mentis  ex  Jobo  mala  acerbissima  passo, 
atque  humiliter  se  et  summisse  ferendo  oneri 
accingente  ;  iu  avide  aripio  ;  memoria  de- 
'  fixum  teneo  ;  Deumque  precor  ut  in  ima 
atque  iiitima  cordis  transeat.  Nobilissimum 
iihid  quod  resurrectioni*  mnrtuorum  per- 
liibetur  testimonium,  te  eo  remittente  medi- 
tationes  nostras,  lil)entcr  adeo.  Quamque 
aliqui,  de  re  Christiana  non  bene  meriti, 
monumentum  istud  a?;e  perennius,  auro  pre- 
fiosus  convellere  satagunt,  pergratam  sane 
oper;  m  navat  interpres  noster,  dum  vali- 
dissimis  rationum  viribus  id  sibi  stabilien- 
ihnn  accipit.  Non  te  latet  fuisse  inter 
eruditos,  qui  pulcherrimam  banc  Jobinae 
fidei  confessionem  aiiorsum  detorquere  stu- 
dent ;  ct  de  fortunis  solummodo  redinte- 
gratis  ut  intelligatur  velint.  Quem  quidem 
errorem  radicitus  avulsum  et  funditius  de- 
letum,  non  sine  gaudio  et  gratulatione,  in 
lucubrationibus  hisce  accuratissimis  con- 
templari  datum  est.  Quod  mihi  de  Ke- 
demptore  "  cali"  suggeris,  id  profecto  arri- 
det  magnopere,  et  toto  pcctore  amplector. 
Vellem  dequocunque  sacroruin  voluminum 
libro  dicere,  quod  olim  Augustinus  optime, 
*'  Sunt  Scriptunetuffi  delicise  mcse."    Nulla 

,  »  Vide  Job!,  cap.  xix.  2j. 


tissima  inspiratse  veritatis  portiuncula,  quin 
melle  Hyblaeo  dulcior  longe.  Qute  autem 
de  Christo  vaticinantur ;  Christuji  sive 
venturum  spondent,  sive  adventum  depin- 
gunt ;  Christum,  cpgris  me  delam,  lugenti- 
bus  solatium,  vicariam  pro  sontibus  victi- 
mam,  a'.TiXvT^^y,  a.vT.-\^vyov,  ea,  apud  me, 
infinitum  quantum  !  })almam  prteripiunt. 
Renident  ea  margaritarum  itistar  hinc  inde 
coruseantium  ;  sive,  ut  cum  poeta  loquar, 
velut  inter  ignes  luna  minores.  De  his 
colloquia  apud  sedes  privatas,  de  his  pro 
rostro  conciones,  de  his  denique  contempla- 
tiones  domi,  foris,  instituere  gestirum.  Imo 
in  his  totus  essem,  atque  immorarer  jugiter,. 
nisi  corruptela,  proh  dolor  !  natura;  insita 
obstaret ;  vageeque  ac  instabiles  cogitationes 
mentem  in  contraria  identidem  detlecterent. 
Hiec  enim  edidicisse,  sapientia  est ;  his 
fidem  adhibuisse,  sahis.  Qui  hEcc  ad  un- 
guem  callet,  boiuis  evadet  theologus  ;  quique 
animo  penitins  imbibit,  Christianus. 

At  quo  feror  ?  In  qure  spatia  efftisus, 
trans  limites  epistolaris  commcrcii  excurro? 
Reprimo  me  tandem.  Unum  duntaxat 
])rte  aliis  eximium,  e  versione  antea  laudata, 
locum  seligere  liceat.  Ea  erit  scriptiun- 
cul;e  hujus  nostne  rneta,  et  patientite  tuse 
Inssae  plus  satis  et  defatigatse  levamen. 
Verum  ibi  pristinumque  sensum,  acerrimo 
ingenii  acumine  e  tenebris  erutum,  et  non 
sine  magiio  sanae  doctnnre  commodo  rcposi- 
tum,  lu?tus  aspicio.  Pericopam,  si  vacat, 
videre  cs,  cap.  iv.  17.  Num  mortalis  a 
(non  pra,  ut  nostras  se  habet  hie  saltern 
malefida  versiu)  numiue  Justus  erit  ?  Hand 
memini  legisse  me,  aut  iiarrando  accepisse, 
ab  ullo  unquam,  eo  impudentice  deventum 
iri,  ut  justiorem  se  Deo,  perfectionis  omni- 
modae  ibnte  ac  norma,  venditare  ausit.  Vix 
igitur,  imo  ne  vix  quidem  opera?  pretium 
fuisset,  tanto  cum  conamine  dictorum  et 
pompa  refellere,  quod  in  nuUius  quotquot 
sunt  mortalium  cogitationes  introire  potuit. 
Neque  aliud  quam  niigatorem  agit  scriptor 
divinus,  si  fidem  reUditioni  receptje  habes  ; 
sin  vero  Schultensii  admittas,  non  item. 
Exhibet  ista  nodum  deo  vindice  dignum. 
Errorem  perstringit  jugulatque,  quo  nullus 
alius  exitialior,  quive  importunius  sese  in 
mentes  nostras  i'lgcrit.  Speciem  omnem 
humani,  quod  vocatur,  meriti  tollit,  con- 
vellit,  conculcat.  Neque  sinit,  ut  minima 
vel  sanctissimis  hominum,  aut  sua  junctandi, 
aut  se  justificandi,  ansa  sit  rclictii.  Quin 
omnes  omnino,  utcunque  pietatis  puritatis- 
que  encomiis  per  terras  nobilitatos,  coram 
supremo  judice  reos  avaTo/.o;  jjts;,  sistit. 
Nullos  proinde  posse  a  tremendo  illo  tri- 
bunal! pccnarum  expertes  abire,  nisi  gratuito 
iis  condonentur  peccata  et  Chuisti  Media- 
toris  justitia  iis  in  salutem  imputetur.  Ecce 
revcra  evangclicum  ante  envangelium  i    Qui 


A  LETTER  TO  MR.  THAYER. 


925 


non  cutem  solam  reconomi^  istiiis  saluti- 
ietm  invenisset  iialpaiulo,  sed  in  ipsissima 
vicera  et  medullas  quodammodo,  pcnetrasse 
videtur.  Felices  nos  iiostrosque  si  eaiidcm 
fidem  mcdullitus  hausisse  detur !  Amo 
meherciile  houiinem,  qui  feliciter  commen- 
tarido  ha;c  taui  luculciita  mayyikiet  Jobo, 
Christianismo,  nobisque  etiain,  aut  inscitia 
Hebraicie  dictiouis  aut  iiu'uiia  interpretum 
ablata,  instauravit  demum  ac  restituit.  Te 
vero  impensius,  vir  reverende,  amo  atqtie 
colo;  dulcissima  cujus  amicitia,  plus  una 
alteraqiie  vice  experimento  cogiiita,  fecit, 
ut  amplissimam  ex  ea  voluptatis  atque  emol- 
umenti  messein  sperare,  ac  miliimct  ipsi 
polliceri  audeam.  Ut  vivas,  valeusque,  ex 
aninio  optat  tibi  devinctissimus 

Jacobls  Hervev. 

P.  S. — Si  qua  in.  re  tibi,  salute  recupe- 
rata,  prodesse  potero,  id  ne  dicam  loges, 
sed  jubeas  velim. 


Rev.  Mr.   CHARLES  THAYER. 

Respected  Sir, — Truly  I  am  surprised 
that  3'ou  have  so  ready  a  faculty  of  express- 
ing yourself  in  a  -language  which  is  not 
your  mother  tongue,  and  which  is  banished 
from  modem  conversation.  Unless  I  had 
been  intimately  acqu;unted  with  you  long 
ago,  that  fruitlul  fund  of  Roman  elocution 
would  easily  induce  me  to  believe  that  you 
"had  dwelt  at  Tusculum*  rather  than  at 
Abingdon. t  As  to  myself,  well  knowing 
my  rudeness  and  want  of  exercise  in  this 
kind  of  writing,  I  was  on  the  point  of  im- 
posing a  perpetual  silence  on  myself.  For 
several  days,  sensible  of  my  own  incapacity, 
I  withheld  my  timorous  hand  from  the 
desk.  But  indeed  sliiane  remonstrated, 
and  a  mind  extremely  averse  to  ingratitude, 
egged  me  on  ;  and  hence  it  is  that  my  pen, 
though  unequal  and  ill  titte'l  for  the  task, 
is  now  at  last  excited  to  give  you  the  trou- 
ble of  a  letter, 

I  render  you  my  greatest  thanks  for  your 
voluntarily  communicating  to  me,  out  of 
your  singular  humanity  and  erudition,  many 
remarks  worthy  of  the  highest  notice  con- 
cerning Job  and  his  book.  In  the  first 
place,  you  bring  the  version  to  the  touch- 
stone. It  is  neat,  replete  with  elegance, 
and  gives  the  force  of  the  Hebrew  phrases 
in  their  full  strength,  beyond  aiiy  man's  ex- 
pectation. Add  to  this,  that  though  it  is 
new  in  most  instances,  yet  it  is  what  carries 
its  authority  in  its  bosom,    and    gains    the 


»  Tusculum,  a  tovm  of  Italy,  where  Cicero's  coun- 
try-house st<jod. 
i  Abingdon,  a  little  town  near  Northampton. 


reader's  assent  at  the  very  first  sight.  Then 
you  run  over  the  notes  with  a  sagacious  eye. 
Which  whoever  reads,  and  reads  over  ag;un, 
it  is  not  easy  to  say  whether  he  will  carry 
off"  more  profit  from  that  very  large  croj)  of 
eastern  learning,  or  rather  delight  from  that 
most  agreeable  fiower  of  the  art  of  criticism. 
So  that  the  remarks  everywhere  interspers- 
ed are  not  trifling  or  unimportant,  as  they, 
with  great  ingenuity  and  skill,  illustrate  the 
emphasis  of  the  words,  the  weight  of  the 
arguments,  the  sublimity  of  the  meaning, 
and  the  thread  of  the  discourse  laid  out  in 
a  most  beautiful  order.  Nay,  they  shine 
with  so  glaring  a  light,  that  they  are  clearly 
understood  even  by  me,  a  man  of  dull  ap- 
prehension ;  and,  being  understood,  please 
me.  In  short.  Job,  I  fancy,  has  got  the 
very  commentator  which  he  would  have 
prcfeired  to  all  others,  if  he  himself  had 
beeii  now  liviiig  and  conversant  among 
men. 

As  to  the  age  in  which  Job  lived,  the 
learned  are  not  agreed,  nor  I  suppose  ever 
will.  But  that  opinion  which  you  and 
others  maintain  seems  to  be  most  proba- 
ble. I  willingly  go  over  to  your  side. 
Kothing  is  more  cerUiin  than  that  this  il- 
lustrious hero  lived  after  Abraham  :  For 
he  who  gave  a  name  to  the  country  which 
one  of  his  friends,  the  Temanite,  inhabited, 
is  reckoned  among  the  ])ostcrity  of  Esau. 
jMoreover,  thit  very  remarkable  encomium 
with  which  he  is  honoured  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  forbids  us  to  imagine  that  he  lived 
in  the  days  of  the  patriarchs  Isaac  or  Jacob. 
It  could  scarcely  be  truly  said  that  there 
■>vas  none  like  him  in  the  earth,  unless  he 
had  lived  after  the  death  of  Joseph.  The 
time  of  Job  seems  therefore  to  be  truly 
placed  between  the  decease  of  Joseph  and 
the  maidiood  of  Moses. 

As  to  the  writing  itself,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  it  proceeded  from  no  other  hand  than 
that  of  Job.  For  he  being  educated  among 
the  Arabs,  and  used  to  their  language,  he 
had  scarce  so  great  skill  in  the  Hebrew 
learning  as  was  necessary  for  consigning  to 
writing  such  important  matters  in  so  neat 
and  elegant  a  style.  If  any  choose  to  as- 
cribe the  book  to  Moses  as  its  author,  as 
j  our  English  edition  has  intimated  in  the 
j  notes  on  the  margin,  then  I  siip]jose  it  was 
j  wrote  before  the  ])assage  of  the  Israelites 
through  the  wilderness.  While  that  celc- 
1  brated  hiwgiver  was  employed  ;is  the  guide 
and  ruler  of  so  great  a  comi)any,  be  could 
scarce  apply  h:s  mind  to  write  a  poetical 
history.  Besides,  the  great  number  and 
I  weight  of  the  matters  he  had  to  do  every 
'  day,  would,  without  doubt,  divert  his  mind 
from  so  great  an  undertaking.  And  no 
time  could  be  more  favourable  to  him  thaii 
that  which  he  enjoyed  while  he  lived  as  an 
exile  among  the  Midianitcs.     He  dwelt  ia 


926 


A  LETTER  TO  MR.  THAYER. 


the  countiy  at  that  time,  had  much  leisure, 
and  had  all  conveniencies  which  use  to  sti- 
mulate and  fire  the  genius  of  a  poet.  Wliat 
further  strengthens  this  opinion  is,  that  be- 
ing banished  into  those  countries,  he  could 
have  full  information  of  everj-  thing  re- 
lating to  Job,  who  dwelt  in  the  neighbour- 
ing land.  The  frequent  use,  too,  of  a  fo- 
reign idiom,  and  a  variety  of  phrases  plain- 
ly smelling  of  the  Arabian  genius,  plead 
strongly  in  behalf  of  such  a  conjecture. 
Our  countrj'man.  Dr.  Warburton,  labours 
hard  to  prove  that  we  are  indebted  to 
Ezra,  the  last  of  the  sacred  writers,  for 
this  treasure  of  divinity,  philosophy,  and 
all  kind  of  learning.  But  this  h}'pothesis, 
however  specious,  and  supported  by  reasons 
nowise  despicable,  does  not  command  my 
assent.  For  unless  I  guess  wrong,  there 
are  marks  and  characters  scattered  every- 
■\vhere  through  the  book  which  denote  a 
much  more  ancient  period.  There  is  no- 
where any  illusion,  so  far  as  I  could  ob- 
serve, to  the  piomulgatiou  of  the  law,  or 
the  e.xploits  of  the  Israelites.  In  no  place 
is  there  any  mention  of  the  miracles  per- 
formed in  Eg)-pt  or  through  the  deserts, 
which  would  have  given  so  great  a  dignity 
to  any  poem,  and  atibrded  so  much  com- 
fort to  the  Jews,  that  they  could  never 
have  passed  unnoticed  by  any  wise  man. 
Among  other  very  beautiful  things  that 
you  have  wrote,  you  establish  the  genuine- 
ness of  this  whole  history.  Consequently 
you  do  not  assert  it  to  be,  and  prove 
\vhat  you  have  asserted,  a  certain  fictitious 
amusement  of  a  pious  genius,  but  that,  on 
the  contrary,  it  was  a  real  transaction  :  that 
therefore  no  one,  in  reading,  ough  t  to  imagine 
that  he  has  before  his  eyes  a  fiction  of  what 
might  have  been  done,  but  a  genuine  nar- 
rative of  what  actually  happened.  I  was 
formerly  of  this  opinion,  and  the  reasons 
you  have  brought  forth  make  me  adhere 
more  closely  to  it.  But  although  it  claims 
the  truth  of  a  real  history,  it  displaj's  all 
the  pleasant  entertainment  of  a  dramatic 
performance.  If  you  consider  the  words, 
which  are  most  elegant  and  ornate,  they  do 
not  so  much  relate,  as  exhibit  to  view,  the 
several  transactions.  And  nothing  is  more 
important,  more  grand,  more  sublime, 
more  worthy  of  an  inspiring  God,  or  more 
necessarj'  for  mankind  to  know.  !Mean- 
tinie,  there  is  a  surprising  diversity  of  cha- 
racters, and,  what  is  the  highest  attainment 
of  art,  tliey  are  every  one  painted  to  the 
life,  and  everywhere  consistent  with  one 
another.  Moreover,  our  history  of  Job  is 
distinguished  by  another  species  of  ele- 
gance, which  is  a  decoration  and  ornament 
to  the  artificial  romances  of  dramatic 
writers.     He  does  not  bring  smoke  from  a 


flash,  as  a  critic  has  observed,  but  light 
from  smoke.  He  begins  with  prose,  and 
then  in  a  trice  he  proceeds  to  the  higher 
modes  of  speaking ;  and  putting  on  a  bus- 
kin, rises  up  to  the  senses.  A  greater  or- 
der of  things  commences  ;  more  vehement 
conferences,  more  fierce  attacks  of  the  dis- 
putants, until  nothing  more  important  or 
more  forcible  can  be  said  on  either  side. 
Then  at  last  a  mediator  comes  in.  The 
perverse  sayings  of  each  party  he  weighs 
with  a  deliberate  judgment,  and  chastises 
with  due  reprehension.  He  endeavours 
with  his  utmost  might,  if  possible,  to  calm 
the  warm  spirits  of  the  disputants,  and 
decide  a  controversy  that  has  been  long 
litigated.  But  in  vain.  The  difficulty  is 
greater,  and  of  far  harder  solution,  than  to 
yield  to  the  remonstrance  of  a  youth.  A 
God,  behold  a  God  appears  !  Can  any 
thing  more  majestic  be  contrived  !  He 
who  traverses  the  circuits  of  the  heavens 
descends,  (let  me  speak  with  the  utmost 
reverence),  as  it  were,  to  the  sand.  And 
he  who  balances  the  stars  that  roll  through 
the  empty  air,  he  himself  weighs  the  im- 
portance and  weight  of  this  controversy,  as 
it  were,  in  an  impartial  balance.  While 
God  pleads  the  cause,  how  do  their  fierce 
spirits  subside !  They  cease  to  resist. 
They  give  up  their  weapons.  They  are 
mute.  Job  himself,  whom  too  splendid 
and  swelling  conceptions  of  his  own  pu- 
rity had  transported  beyond  due  bounds, 
being  convinced  of  his  mistake,  and  sen- 
sible of  bis  iniquity,  is  covered  with  shame, 
throws  down  his  arms,  and,  in  a  worship- 
ping posture,  falls  prostrate  at  the  feet  of 
infinite  mercy.  He  knows  himself;  exer- 
cises penitence,  overcomes  by  submission  j 
and  as  soon  as  he  most  humbly  falls  down 
before  God,  he  obtains  an  end  of  his  ca- 
lamity, which  he  could  not  lawfully  have 
expected  so  long  as  he  too  rashly  arrogated 
to  himself  an  unblamable  integrity.  The 
propitious  Deity,  with  a  most  liberal  hand, 
replaces,  augments,  establishes  all  his  ef- 
fects, which  had  been  not  long  ago  miserably 
lost.  Like  the  palm-tree,  being  pressed 
down  he  rises  up  ;  and  when  all  were  go- 
ing to  congratulate  him  upon  his  felicity, 
then  at  last  it  revived,  and  fiourished  much 
more  plentifully  than  before.  How  sudden 
and  unlooked-for  a  catastrophe  !  How  joy- 
ful a  period  of  his  distresses  !  How  beauti- 
ful a  conclusion  brought  to  the  whole  work  ! 
Let  it  suffice  to  have  touched  these 
things  slightly.  Led  by  your  example,  I  turn 
my  mind  and  pen  from  matters  of  curious 
speculation  to  things  of  greater  utility. 
Those  things  which  support  a  tottering 
faith,  and  rectify  and  direct  a  practice  too 
apt  to  wander,  like  a  tkilful  pilot  who  con- 


A  LETTER  TO  MR.   THAYER. 


927 


itinually  sits  at  the  helm,  are  no\v  to  become 
the  subject  of  oonsirteratioti.  What  you 
discreetly  admonish  of,  as  to  learning  for- 
titude of  mind  I'rom  Job  teased  with  a  troop 
of  aliiictions,  yet  not  broken  or  dispirited  : 
as  to  fetching  incitements  to  patience  from 
this  man  who  suffered  the  must  bitter  evils, 
and  yet  ])repared  himself  humbly  and  sub- 
missively to  bear  the  burden  ;  that  I  greedi- 
ly catch  at,  I  hold  it  iixed  in  my  memory, 
and  I  pray  to  God,  that  it  may  penetrate 
into  the  lowest  and  innermost  recesses  of 
my  heart.  I  cheerfully  proceed,  upon  your 
remitting  my  meditations  thither,  to  that 
most  noble  testimony  which  is  given  to  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead.*  And  while 
come  who  have  not  deserved  well  of  Chris- 
tianity labour  to  destroy  this  monument, 
more  lasting  than  brass,  and  more  precious 
tlTan  gold,  our  interpreter  performs  a  truly 
acceptable  sci'vice,  while  he  undertakes  to 
establish  it  by  the  most  powerful  ar- 
guments. You  are  not  ignorant,  that 
there  have  been  some  among  the  learned 
who  endeavour  to  pervert  to  a  different 
meaning  this  most  beautiful  confession 
of  Job's  faith,  and  would  have  it  under- 
stood only  of  the  restoration  of  his  estate. 
AVhich  error  indeed  I  observed  with  no 
small  joy  and  congratulation  to  be  plucked 
up  by  the  roots,  and  entirely  overthrown  in 
these  your  most  accurate  lucubrations.  As 
to  what  you  suggest  to  me  concerning  the 
Redeemer,  it  truly  pleases  me  very  much, 
and  I  embrace  it  with  my  whole  heart.  I 
would  wish  to  say  concerning  every  book 
of  the  sacred  volumes,  w  hat  Augustine  long 
ago  said  excellently,  "  Thy  writings  are 
my  delight."  There  is  no  page  in  the 
divine  books  which  is  not  more  excellent 
than  iniiies  of  gold  ;  there  is  not  even  the 
most  minute  portion  of  inspired  truth,  but 
is  sweeter  than  the  sweetest  honey.  But 
what  they  prophesy  concerning  Christ  ; 
whether  tliey  promise  CiiuiST  to  come,  or 
describe  his  advent ;  Christ,  medicine  for 
the  sick,  comfort  to  mourners,  a  vicarious 
cacrifice  ibr  the  guilty,  a  ransom  for  us, 
giving  his  life  for  us — these  things,  how 
infinitely  great !  carry  away  the  prize. 
These  thiugs  shine  like  pearls  sparkling  on 
€very  side,  or,  to  sjieak  with  the  poet,  as 
the  moon  among  the  lesser  stars.  Con- 
cerning these,  1  wonld  rejoice  to  hold  con- 
ferences in  private  houses,  in  the  puti)it,  in 
my  family,  and  when  abroad.  Nay,  I  would 
be  wholly  enij)l{)yed  about  them,  unless  the 
inbred  corruption  of  nature  (O  grief!)  op- 
posed, and  wandering  and  unsettled  thoughts 
now  and  then  diverted  my  mind  to  contrary 
subjects.  l"'or  to  learn  these,  is  wisdom  ; 
to  believe  them,  is  salvation.  He  who  u!i- 
derstands  these  things  exactly,  will  become 

*  See  Jobxii,  i6. 


a  good  divine  ;  and  he  who  drinks  them  into 
his  mind,  will  become  a  C;hristian. 

But  whither  am  I  carried  ?  Into  what 
excursions,  transported,  do  I  run  beyond 
the  limits  of  epistolary  correspondence  ?  I 
repress  myself  at  length.  Let  me  be  per- 
mitted to  select  one  place  at  least  excellent 
above  others,  from  the  version  before  ex- 
tolled ;  which  will  put  a  period  to  this  little 
N^riting  of  mine,  and  relax  your  patience, 
too  nmch  tired  and  wearied  out.  There 
with  pleasure  I  behold  the  true  and  ancient 
meaning,  by  a  very  brisk  effort  of  genius, 
rescued  from  darkness,  and  restored,  not 
without  considerable  advantage,  to  sound 
doctrine.  You  may  see  the  defect,  if  you 
be  at  leisure,  chap.  iv.  ver.  17.  "  Shall 
mortal  man  be  just  before  God?"  not, 
more  just  than  (rod,*  as  our  version,  un- 
faithful here  at  least,  has  it.  I  do  not  re- 
member to  have  read,  or  to  have  received 
by  report,  that  any  one  ever  arrived  to  such 
a  pitch  of  impudence,  as  to  dare  to  boast 
that  he  was  more  just  than  God,  the  foun- 
tain and  rule  of  all  manner  of  goodness. 
Hardly,  therefore,  nay,  scarcely  would  it 
have  been  worth  while  to  confute,  with  so 
great  energy  and  pomp  of  words,  what 
could  enter  into  the  thoughts  of  no  mortabj 
whatsoever.  Nor  does  the  divine  writer 
act  otherwise  than  as  a  tritler,  if  you  be- 
lieve the  received  version.  But  if  you  admit 
that  of  Schultens,  he  acts  quite  the  reverse. 
That  version  discovers  a  dithculty  worthy 
of  a  God  to  unravel.  It  deciphers  aiid 
destroys  an  error,  than  which  there  is  none 
more  destructive,  or  that  insinuates  itself 
with  greater  importunity  into  our  minds. 
It  takes  away,  it  refutes,  it  tramjjles  upon 
every  sjjecies  of  what  is  called  huiimn 
merit.  Nor  does  it  suffer  even  the  least 
handle  to  be  left  to  the  holiest  of  men, 
either  to  boast  of  their  own  deeds,  or  to 
justify  themselves.  Nay,  it  represents  all 
men,  however  dignified  through  the  world 
by  the  praises  of  [liety  and  purity,  as  wholly 
guilty,  and  without  excuse  before  the  su- 
preme Judge  ;  and  shows  that  none  i'jin  go 
away  from  that  tremendous  tribunal  free 
from  punishment,  unless  their  sins  are  freely 
forgiven  them,  and  the  righteousness  of 
Chuist  the  Mediator  be  imi)Uted  to  them 
for  their  justilicatiou.  Behold  an  evangelist 
indeed  before  the  (josi)el !  who  by  feeling 
found  out,  not  the  sum  only  of  that  saving 
economy,  but  seems  in  a  manner  to  have 
entered  into  the  very  bowels  and  marrow 
of  it-  Happy  we  and  our  ])eoj)le,  if  it  be 
given  us  to  draw  forth  the  same  taith  from 
the  marrow.  Truly  I  love  the  man,  who, 
by  such  a  happy  comment,  h;is  at  last  re- 
newed   and    restored    these    bright  gospel 


•  See  this  passage  excellently  illustrated  by 
author,  in  hit  Conleiiiplations  ou  ttiK  NiuhL 


92B 


CHARACTER  OF  MR.   HERVEY'S  WRITINGS. 


tidings  to  Job,  to  Christianity,  and  to  us 
too,  removing  either  unskilfulness  in  the 
Hebrew  diction,  or  the  carelessness  of  in- 
terpreters. But,  reverend  sir,  I  love  and 
respect  you  the  more  ardently,  whose  most 
amiable  friendship,  which  I  have  experienced 
on  trial  once  and  again,  has  caused  me  to 
hope  from  it  a  more  abundant  harvest  of 
pleasure  and  advantage  than  I  durst  promise 
myself.  That  you  may  live  and  prosper, 
is  the  hearty  wish  of  your  much  obliged 
Jamks  Heivvey. 

P.  S. — If  upon  the  recoveiy  of  my 
liealth,  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  you  in 
any  business,  I  do  not  say  you  should  ask 
it,  but  command  it. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  REV.  JAMES 
HERVEY., 

On  vulgar  marks  Death  long  had  meanly  spent 
His  loaded  quiver,  and  his  bow  full  bciu  ; 
Monarchs,  who  had  been  great  but  for  a  crown, 
Statesmen  and  heroes,  sons  of  high  renown  ; 
When,  lo'!  in  Heaven  this  awful  mandate  past, 
"  To-morrow's  dawn  be  some  famed  mortars  last !" 
The  tidings,  to  our  world  officious  sent. 
Through  Albion's  isles  on  wing  of  lightning  went: 
Impiety,  her  heart  by  vipers  stung. 
Again  blasphemes  with  loud  audacious  tongue  ; 
Vice  stalks  abroad,  each  late  retreat  forsook, 
AVith  all  her  bold  effrontery  of  look 
But,  ah  !  while  these  malignant  triumphs  show. 
Far  other  bosoms  other  feelings  know  1 
The  muse  in  vain  conceals  her  weeping  eye. 
And  each  tear  Learning  answers  with  a  sigh  ; 
Religion  starts,  though  arm'd  with  tenfold  shield, 
And  Virtue  shrinks,  tl'OUgh  she  disdains  to  yield: 
• — The  arrow  sped.  Death  took  his  aim  too  well, 
The  mitred  pontiff  lived,  and  HsRVJiy  fell. 


CHARACTEH 


MR.  JAMES  HERVEY'S  WRITINGS. 


The  Reverend  Mr.  James  Hervey  being 
now  dead,  yet  speaketh  to  us  in  his  valuable 
writings  ;  writings  which,  for  importiince  of 
subject,  weight  of  argument,  sublimity  of 
thought,  justness  of  sentiment,  and  ele- 
gance of  diction,  are  equalled  by  few,  and 
excelled  by  none. 


His  strain  is  truly  evangelical ;  his  me- 
thod inviting,  entertaining,  and  edifying  ; 
calcidated  both  to  profit  and  to  please :  and 
a  s])int  of  meekness,  candour,  and  modesty, 
breathes  through  and  beautifies  the  whole. 

His  favourite  topic  is  the  righteousness 
and  atonement  of  the  Redeemer.  On  this 
he  expatiates  with  inexpressible  satisfaction, 
and  dwells  with  rapturous  delight.  By  this 
he  "  touches  the  finest  movements  of  the 
soul,  and  strikes  all  the  inmost  springs  of 
action,  with  the  most  persuasive,  the  most 
commanding  energy,"  and  sweetly  con- 
strains to  the  obedience  of  love. 

He  ransacks  the  mansions  of  the  dead, 
turns  the  gra\'e  into  a  pulpit,  and  makes 
putrefaction  and  mortality  preach  lessons 
to  the  living.  He  surveys,  with  Newtonian 
exactness,  the  starn/  cxpunse,  and  the  coimt- 
less  radiant  worlds  that  roll  in  the  noctur- 
nal sky :  from  these  he  investigates  the 
glory  and  perfections  of  the  creating  and 
sustaining  God  ;  and  from  these  he  en- 
hances the  wonders  of  redeeming  love.  He 
mounts  the  believer  on  the  summit  of  crea- 
tion, as  upon  a  stupendous  eminence,  to 
enlarge  his  prospect,  and  exalt  his  concep- 
tions of  the  majesty  and  glory  of  that  God, 
who  redeemed  his  church  with  his  own  blood. 
V/hen  imagination  itself,  with  all  the  assist- 
ance of  science,  is  lost  in  the  immensity 
and  awful  gTandeur  of  the  works  of  nature  ; 
immediately  he  contracts  the  universe  into 
a  span,  and  the  enormous  orbs  into  fleeting 
atoms,  or  the  small  dust  that  remains  in 
the  balance,  when  the  works  of  redemption 
are  brought  in  view. 

Thus,  he  unites  the  most  improved  phi- 
losopher with  the  sound  believer;  and  makes 
reason  and  natiu'e  subservient  to  faith  and 
revelation.  Whilst  he  allows  reason  its 
freest  inquiry  and  fidlest  scope,  he  gives 
up  with  none  of  the  peculiarities  of  the 
gospel ;  but  holds  forth,  with  the  clearest 
light,  and  in  various  points  of  view,  those 
truths  wherein  the  offence  of  the  cross  con. 
sists. 

Mny  these  heavenly  doctrines,  and  pre- 
cious truths,  which  flowed  in  such  copious, 
I  gladdening  streams,  from  his  lips  and  pen, 
be  transmitted  pure  and  unadulterated  to 
the  latest  posterity ;  and  may  that  divine 
Spirit,  which  gave  them  their  projier  energy 
and  influence  upon  his  heart  and  life,  ever 
accompany  them  to  remotest  ages  ! 


THE  END. 


ki)Inbui;gii  : 

FHlNTtI>   BV    A.    BALFOUit  AND   CO.   MUDRY   STRHET. 


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